#enchanted daggers and arrows

[notquitecanon]

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 

"No promises." 

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 

____

Ambushed in the night.  

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 

And Astarion? Their target? 

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 

"SHADOWHEART!" 

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

#me when I can use both literal and metaphorical vampirism as an allegory of being consumed by love. #astarion x reader #astarion x you #Astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 fanfic #Astarion self insert

[cyn-write]

"Her Smoldering Eyes Still Scorch My Soul"

Summary: Rollo has been eyeing you since your arrival, seeing you as the diamond amongst coals. At the Ball, he corners you into a dance, but your BF is not going to let this slide...

Pairings: Rook, Epel, Silver, and Sebek x F!Reader (separate) For Azul, Idia, and Malleus' part

For Riddle, Deuce, Ruggie, and Jamil's

For Rollo's Warnings: Possessive behavior, suggestive, manipulation (Rollo), obsession (Rollo), established relationships, romantic, fluff ~

Note: This is the last part FINALLY!!! I have been working on this for a while and am excited to move on to new projects! Any suggestions, please let me know!!

Prologue

"Who might you be miss?"

Y/n gave a kind smile and nodded her head in greeting "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," she stayed next to Trein as she was there as his assistant.

"Yuu is our magicless perfect of Ramshackle. She will be working as my assistant throughout the trip," Trein added.

She felt Rollo's eyes scan her, and, unlike his greetings to the rest, he held out a hand. Being poilet, she offered her hand as well, and he lifted it to his lips, grazing her knuckles quickly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I understand it must be difficult, being surrounded by mages every second of the day. I hope you get a chance to relax this trip." Y/n blushed at the motion and bit her lower lip. All the while she could feel her boyfriend glaring daggers into her and Rollo.

"I-I'll do my best..." Y/n replied. Throughout the entire trip, Rollo seemed to gravitate towards y/n and used every excuse to isolate her from the group. They chatted about her difficulties at NRC and of the festival. Due to her being Trein's assistant and the constant reminders to behave, she and her boyfriend had little time together.

This all accumulated at the Masquerade. Rollo had given Y/n a proper dress for the occasion instead of the attire his counsel had chosen. The (color) fabric decadently adorned your figure and stunned the NRC boys with its beauty. But before her boyfriend could ask for a dance, Rollo stole y/n away. He whisked her to the dance floor, and they started chatting.

At this point, Y/N's boyfriend has had enough of the student counsel president, but what sent him over the edge is when he takes you to the balcony and dare suggest the worst:

"Y/n, stay here with me." Y/n turned quickly on her heels to Rollo in confusion, "The fools at NRC do not deserve your purity. You belong here. with me." He has her pinned against the balcony, "This is your sanctuary."

Y/n pushed Rollo away slightly and spoke up, "Thank you for the offer, but I have not intention of leaving NRC. It is difficult at times but I wouldn't have it any other way. Now if you excuse me, I want to go back to the ball."

Rollo grabbed y/n's wrist and pulled her against him. "It's because of Draconia, isn't it? He has bewitched you!" He pinned her between the balcony wall and him. "Those fiends have enchanted you, but I will free you from those chains and show you salvation! No matter the cost!"

Rook Hunt

An Arrow landed right in between Rollo's middle and index finger splayed on the wall.

Rollo turned to see Rook with his bow still aimed at him.

"What is the-"

"Step away from Mon Ange."

Ever the observant Hunter, he could tell Rollo was attracted to his dearest as many were. He trusted y/n to take care of most of them. She was quietly capable, and he knew she preferred to fight some battles alone, but this crossed a line.

It only took a few strides to close the distance between them. Rook, being the gentleman he was, gently pulled y/n out from under Rollo's grip. He pulled her behind him and stood tall against the Student Council President.

"Hunt. What is the meaning of this? The perfect and I were having a conversation and you shoot at me?!" Rollo's tone begins to lose his composure. "You will pay for this!"

"Not if you want the entirety of Nobel Bell to learn their esteemed president is a pervert." Rook held up his phone and a video of the previous events started playing. Along with that he scrolled and displayed photos of Rollo looking at y/n's behind and chest, being aggressive towards her, and pinning her against the wall.

Rollo quieted and stared at Rook in rage, "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh I would, and the first person to see this would be the Dean of Nobel Bell and Professor Trien. Permanently ruining your reputation and the friendship between the schools." Rook took a step closer and held his thumb over the 'send' button. "And you wouldn't want that would you?"

Y/n looked at her loving hunter in shock. This was a side of Rook you were never privy to and it was terrifying. Rollo closed his agape mouth and stepped back. He bowed to the couple and retreated "Enjoy the ball, Mages." he spatted.

The moment Rollo left Rook turned to his Mon Ange and cupped her face with his soft gloved hands. "Mon Amour, are you alright?" he was so gentle with her.

Her emotions started to flood her senses as tears spilled from her eyes. She nodded and smiled, "Now that you're here I am," she brought her hands to his shoulder and he pulled her into a hug.

"Mon Amour, you're safe now. Non will dare hurt you as I stand by your side." He patted her head and kissed her cheek and forehead and anywhere he could get his lips before he finally placed them on her lips.

She smiled and let out a soft cry, "I know, I know."

"Ma Princesse, your chevalier dans une armure brillante will never leave your side again." He held her close as she cried.

Eventually, a new song began and he stepped back. Rook had an idea to make her feel better. He kneeled in front of her and clasped her hands in his, "Mon Ange, will you honor a humble chevalier with a dance?"

Y/n nodded and smiled at her brilliant hunter, "Of course, Mon chevalier!"

Epel Fulimer

"YOU GET YUR HANDS OFF HER!" Epel wasted no time, pulling Rollo off his apple-blossom. He stood in front of y/n and held out his magic pen to the predator. "YOU LAY A HAND ON HER AND ILL BUST YOUR BOTTOM THREE WAYS TA SUNDAY!"

Epel looked dashing in the moonlight. Despite the cuteness of his outfit, in the eyes of y/n he looked like a prince rescuing his love from an evil monster.

Rollo looked shocked at being thrown off the perfect by this little mage. He squinted his eyes then they widened when they realized it was one of the NRC freshmen.

"Fulimer. This doesn't concern you." He said pointedly, "Now go back to the ball and leave the perfect and I to our discussion."

"NO. YOU LISTEN TO ME." Epel said and squared up the older mage, "y/n told you NO. She clearly said she doesn't want to leave NRC. So unless you wanna go right here. right now. You leave MY Girl alone."

Rollo glared at the two and before he could say anything else he heard someone call his name from inside. He straightened up and looked past Epel at y/n, "Think about my offer y/n, we will discuss this matter later."

He turned and left the balcony. Leaving Epel and y/n alone in the cold night breeze. Epel watched Rollo leave then turned to hug his beloved close to his chest, "y/n, I am so sorry I didn't get here sooner. I couldn' find ya in the ballroom and people said Rollo took ya, and I thought the-"

She shut up his yapping by giving him a deep kiss on the lips. Epel pulled her closer, firmly gripping her waist and slipping a hand into her hair. The couple stayed like this for a long time before parting to breathe.

After regaining his breath, Epel said, "Wow... what was that for?"

Y/n smiled and placed her hands on either side of his face, her fingertips grazing his mask, "Isn't it traditional for the damsel to kiss her champion after a heroic rescue?"

Epel's smile turned mischievous, the way it always did when she complimented his masculinity. "Champion ya say? Well, Princess, do ya wanna go back to the ball or keep thanking me?"

Y/n giggled at the suggestive comment and said, "What do you have in mind?"

Epel leaned in close and whispered in a low voice teaming with desire, "I say we slip back to my room and-"

"Monsieur Cherry Apple! Madame trickster! There you are! I was looking all over for you!" Rook came out and Epel jumped back and grumbled at his senior's interruption. "The music is splendid! why don't you join me for a dance?"

He held open the door back into the ballroom open and gestured for them to come inside.

"We will be there in just a sec," Epel said and gave Rook a look of 'Please give me two more seconds'.

"Very Well, I will be waiting ~" Rook said and closed the door for a second.

"Well... looks like Rook decided for ya, but" He bowed to y/n and held out his hand, "Will you be this humble Champion's Princess tonight?

Silver

"I suggest you let the lady go." Silver’s hand gripped Rollo’s shoulder, forcing the president to turn from y/n.

The expression on his face was stone, eyes filled with a fiery rage all aimed at the man who dared to lay a hand on his princess. Rollo was taken aback by the gaze, it it made y/n’s heart swell. The momentary shock of Silver’s iron grip allowed for y/n to slip away from her captor and into Silver’s arms. The partner change changed Silver’s tactic from offense to defense. He let go of Rollo’s shoulder, took y/n’s waist, held her close to his chest. He held out his magic pen like a sword and y/n felt as if she was on the cover of a Romance Book. From where she stood, Silver looked like a fairytale prince. He may be a man of few words, but his eyes could write a novel.

“As a retainer of Prince Malleus and a Knight of Briar Valley, I cannot overlook a man of your caliber harassing a lady.” He said, his voice steady yet commanding, “Especially MY Lady.”

Y/n felt the heat rise in her cheeks, that was the first time he ever referred to her as “his.” Due to his position, their relationship had to be kept secret from everyone but Malleus and Lilia. They never used labels even in private. There were times she felt as though they were just friends, but you understood his situation. Now he called her his and acted as her knight, her Prince Charming.

Rollo was shocked to say the least. He took a step back and said, “The perfect and I were just discussing some private matters. But we can continue our conversation later,” Rollo started to walk away but Silver held his pan to the small of his back.

Silver’s expression shifted from stone to threatening, he lowered his voice an octave and whispered into Rollo’s ear, “You will not speak to her again. If you do, I swear to the sevens you will have wished those fires consumed you.”

Rollo glanced back a Silver with a twinge of fear in his eyes before retreating back to the ballroom.

The moment Rollo left the balcony, Silver turned back to look at his dearest. For someone notorious for his stone expression, Silver was very expressive on the balcony. He looked at the perfect with concern. His eyebrows knit, lips slightly frowning, and eyes looking in her eyes with deep concern.

Without any words, the two lovers embraced under the stars. Silver pressed his lips to her temple and whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

Y/n looked up at her knight and smiled, “It’s okay…” she brushed her lips against his cheek and whispered with tears in her eyes, “y-you called me ‘your lady’… you’ve never called me your’s.”

Silver brushed back a stray hand of hair as he said, “I know I asked to… to keep us quiet, but after that, I think it best that I be selfish…” he kneeled before his beloved in the (f/c) dress, one hand clasping hers while the other laid over his heart. “Y/n, will you honor the selfish request of a knight and be my princess?”

Sebek Zigolt

"Let. Her. Go."

Rollo turned to face him and was surprised to see Sebek. The usually loud retainer spoke in an even tone, barely above a sage whisper. His magic pen was drawn and pointing at directly at Rollo’s head.

He did not yell, but his rage was oozing out of every creases of his being. The fear in y/n’s eyes when Rollo pinned her to the railing made a switch click inside the freshman. He had been looking for y/n for a while. Malleus suggested the two dance n’s relax, and Sebek was never one to deny his Prince’s request. But when he saw Rollo pulled the human on to the balcony, he knew something was up. He got to the balcony just in time to hear Rollo suggest the worse: the Human switching schools… HIS human. And worse off, when she said no, Rollo forced himself on her. He could not take this anymore.

Rollo stood between the human and him. The council resident looked the freshman up and down before simply stating, “Zigolt, what are you doing? The perfect and I are trying to have a private conversation.”

“You touch her again and I will not hesitate.” Sebek Said, he stepped forward and Rollo remained unmoving.

“And I suggest you leave us be.” Rollo dare place his arm around y/n’s waist, “If the professor’s heard a NRC student threaten the Host of this event, the relations between our schools would be ruined, so I suggest you leave us be. She and I still have much to discuss-“

“You let go of her or I will-“

“Will what? Ruin the name of you dear prince and university over a human woman? I thought human’s meant nothing to fea like you-“

“The discussion is over. Flamme.” Malleus appeared behind Sebek with Silver by his side.

Sebek looked back to his Prince and his brother in arms and they could see the rage and disparation on his face. Malleus smiled at Sebek and said, “Sebek, take the child of man to the dace floor, it is simply criminal that a young couple not dance at a ball.”

Sebek understood the hidden meaning behind the words, ‘take y/n out of here.’

He strode over to y/n as she shimmed out of Rollo’s grip. In a rush, y/n and Sebek embraced upon meeting and he took her hand in his before leading his human away from the scene. Silver nodded to Sebek as they passed, releasing him of his duties for the night. Once away, the couple stopped in an alcove and Sebek embraced his human tightly.

“Y/n forgive me,” He said with his emotions finally spilling over, “I have been an inattentive lover and did nothing when Rollo had you… I’m so useless-“

“Don’t say that.” Y/n placed her hands on either side of Sebek's face. She looked him in the eyes and saw the disappointment. He was so upset with himself for what happened. Despite his rough facade, he put a lot of responsibility on himself, and if he did not live up to those impossible standards, he punished himself. "You saved me Sebek, so can we leave that behind us and go to the ball?"

Sebek allowed a small smile to grace his lips. He leaned his forehead against her's, "Oh course... I want nothing more than to be with you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing an NSFW part 2 or want to see more characters in this scenario, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

#twst rook #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt x mc #rook hunt x oc #epel felmier #twst epel #twisted wonderland epel #epel x reader #epel x yuu #epel x mc #disney twist #disney twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #silver x reader #silver x yuu #silver x mc #silver vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland sebek #twst sebek #sebek x reader #twst mc #twisted wonderland pomefiore #twisted wonderland x reader #sebek x mc #twisted wonderland diasomnia #twisted wonderland fanfic

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity; Tulips & Starlight

series masterlist

i decided to make it super fluffy and cute - to make up for the angst to come (ig thats a spoiler?? but not really). if you want more one shots for this series send me a request because this was actually so fun 😁😁

Every year, without fail, the castle halls were full to the brim with wreathes of glittering hearts and ribbons of all sorts of reds, pinks and whites. The Hogwarts student body made a huge deal of Valentines Day every year – the muggleborn students had the most fun with the aspects that made it all the more magical. Each year, Professor Dumbledore would employ a series of real life Cupids to fly about the castle shooting 'arrows of love' towards their targets for the price of five whole Galleons.

Every year you find it sickening. This year is no different.

The Great Hall is swarming with people during breakfast and flying among the swooping owls are at least thirty or so Cupids who drift above the tables, skimming people's heads with the tips of their wrinkled feet. In place of the enchanted sky in the ceiling, red hearts have been enchanted to cascade like rain fall, bursting into balls of sparkling light that falls softly onto the tables, which are decorated in the same shade rather than the traditional scarlet, emerald, navy and yellow of the House colours.

You walk into the Great Hall, followed closely by Theo and Pansy, with distain painted across your face. Theo snickers as Pansy gushes silently over the Valentines decor.

"This is disgusting." You say with a scowl as the three of you wander in behind a group of giggling second year girls. Theo's snickering turns into a full on laughter as Pansy's head whips in your direction, disbelief written on her face.

"How can you possibly hate this?" she asks with wide eyes, as if you're committing some form of treason for hating this muggle holiday. "I think it's an endearing little thing."

"At least it's only for one day, tesoro." Theodore teases sarcastically, moving away just in time to avoid your swatting hand. "Don't you want to be swooned with flowers and chocolate?"

You curse his words as you part ways to the Ravenclaw table, shooting him daggers when he speaks to you in your mind as he sits down.

I wonder...should I pay one of those ugly Cupids to shoot an arrow at Matt for you? He smirks mischievously as said boy wanders into the Great Hall, deep brown eyes immediately seeking you out before he finds his friends.

You send him a smile, that goes unnoticed by everyone but him, before shooting as many cuss words you know towards Theo, who only laughs in response.

I'll take that as a no, then. Enjoy your breakfast, tesoro. Is all he can say before you kick him from your mind with a forceful shove.

He turns to Mattheo and they begin to have a lengthy discussion, but you're not curious enough to find out what it is, more content with drowning yourself in caffeine, if only to fuel your need to survive through the day.

~∞~

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom is possibly the only room in the castle that doesn't reflect the rest of the hallways. You should be glad that it no longer looks like Saint Valentine threw up in every single crevice, but the gloomy atmosphere actually makes your mood deplete. Mattheo had been sending you secretive looks all day and you had to admit that you were curious.

He was definitely planning something; it made you nervous, butterflies fluttering anxiously in your stomach.

Professor Snape was still yet to make his dramatic entrance to the classroom; you were chatting with Hermione, Ron and Harry as you waited impatiently for the lesson to start when Harry pointed to something fluttering above your head.

It's not a Cupid. Thank Merlin. But it's still happening in front of so many people and you want the ground to swallow you whole, until you make eye contact with its sender, who was smirking into the crook of his elbow, avoiding your narrowed gaze.

Mattheo had somehow gotten some faeries to flutter about your head, silent and imposing as one by one, they made about a dozen tulips of varying shades of red, purple and yellow, appear on your desk. You bite the inside of your cheek hard to stop the smile spreading across your face, but it doesn't hinder the bright blush that floods your aching cheeks.

"What the fuck?" Ron guffaws loudly, drawing more attention to the four of you, but you ignore everyone in favour of the deep rasp of his voice that enters your mind.

Theo said it would be a hard no if I paid one of the Cupids to shoot an arrow at you. He says, voice filled with mirth.

Yes. I would've run out of this classroom and you would never see me again. You respond with sparkling eyes.

Well I'm glad I listened to him, for once. Do you like them? The flowers, I mean? He sounds almost... insecure; nervous. Two things Mattheo Riddle is not. Your expression softens.

I love them. Did you know that tulips are my favourite flower?

I asked little Weasley for some help with that one. I'm glad you like them, love. His smirk has transformed into a genuine smile as you brave looking at him amidst the sea of your peers, including the eyes of your three best friends.

Within your conversation that only took mere minutes, rather than the eternity you wished it was, the faeries flittered towards your books and rested upon your desk infront of you, bounding the fallen tulips into an intricate bouquet, bound by what looked like a string of glitter, but you knew better.

You and Hermione gasp simultaneously, along with the other girls in the near vicinity of your desk. Harry and Ron only look more baffled.

"I-is that starlight?" Mione whispers in awe as you both stare down at the faeries who grin up at you with sparkling teeth as the bright silvery light acts like a beacon amidst the darkness of the classroom. "Whoever this is has gone beyond what I thought possible for your attention."

"Yeah." you reply with glistening eyes that flick to Mattheo who looks like he's sat on the edge of his seat.

He sees it in your eyes. The emotion that neither of you have dared to voice, too scared to step even further over the line that you were already holding onto for dear life, but that grip was slipping with every passing day.

Mattheo knew then that he would gift you the world if you asked for it; he would give you anything, even something as rare and beautiful as starlight.

The rest of the day is a blur for you. You hardly notice the eyesores that are Cupids flying around like headless chickens, chasing people around the grounds. All you can think about are the Tulips wrapped up in glistening starlight that sit safely in a vase in your dorm room.

~∞~

Meet me in the Astronomy Tower – M

The lone note, that sits on your bedside table, reads. It was not there when you returned from dinner earlier, so it had appeared during the time you've spent in the company of your friends since then.

The day is almost over, the Grandfather clock in the common room is distantly chiming that it is eleven at night, marking one more hour of the day.

You had woken up in a sour mood over what you would have to endure from overbearing couples and lovesick idiots all day. But you had been pleasantly surprised by just how thoughtful Mattheo had been.

And you were not expecting it at all.

Mattheo Riddle who portrayed this persona of pure evil, stoicism and nonchalance to the world had gone above and beyond your expectations of Valentines Day and turned it into something truely magical.

You turn to look at your chest of drawers, where the tulips rest in a glass vase, starlight pooling around them, and into the air, casting a pleasant glow around your room. You had quickly discovered that he had also charmed the tulips to last forever. So they would never die; symbolic true love forever bathed in breathtaking starlight that was bestowed upon the bouquet like faery dust infront of your very eyes.

Quickly you changed into presentable, but comfortable clothes: Black flared leggings and you covered your cold arms with a fluffy jumper that cropped just above your belly button shoving on a pair of dark trainers before you made the short journey out of the Ravenclaw common room towards the neighbouring Astronomy tower.

It only took you ten slow minutes to sneak across corridors, silently praying the Filch and Mrs. Norris didn't turn the corners when you did. But you got to the Astronomy tower without a hitch and descended the steep staircase, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself at the bite of the cold.

"You came." his voice is a soft caress against the wind and you find yourself immediately wrapped up in his strong arms.

"Of course, I did." you mumble into his chest, hugging him tighter as a gust of wind circles the two of you. "I've been thinking about you all day."

"Have you now?" He asks with a smirk that turns into a startled chuckle as you shove against his chest with a laugh of your own.

It's only when you step out of his embrace that you see what he had planned. Your mouth gapes as you take in the scene in front of you.

Set up in the centre of the open room, surrounded by telescope's and magical orreries, is a red and white gingham picnic blanket surrounded by dazzling balls of light that cascade down the stone walls like fairy lights. There are candles dotted about the room, casting a warm glow.

"Matt-" you start but the feeling of his chest pressing into your back has your voice quieting as he presses languid kisses to your exposed neck. You sigh as you relax into his hold. "How long did this take you?"

"Not long. Pansy helped me with the decorations while I got food from the kitchens. Dobby heard your name and went all out." he chuckles quietly as he gently guides you towards the blanket, where a dark brown picnic basket sits among a series of long candlesticks.

"It looks lovely." you say as you move to sit down, Mattheo following closely behind.

Your thigh presses against his as he reaches into the basket, pulling out a bottle of sparkling wine. You smile as he turns to you with a cheeky grin.

"Ready to be wined and dined, sweetheart?" he asks with a smirk as he pops the cork and pours both of you a generous amount. Your smile gives way to a delightful giggle as you clink your glasses together, pulling out a series of food that Dobby had generously prepared for the two of you.

~∞~

"How did you manage to plan all this? From the tulips to the starlight to...to this? It's all so perfect." you ask as you take a bit out of a chocolate covered strawberry.

"Well...Weasley told me about your favourite flowers and their meaning and I figured out how to bargain with the faeries from the forest for the starlight."

"How?" you were intrigued.

"That's my secret, love." he teases. "I'm not allowed to say."

"Not even to me?" you pout and he laughs as he takes a bit out of the pumpkin pasty on his plate.

"Not even you. I can't break a faerie's promise. You know that."

You could reason with that, you supposed. Faerie promises were sacred in the wizarding world.

"I think this is our first real date." you say contently, as you lean back on your elbows, staring at the side of his chiselled face.

"It is, isn't it." he says, nodding his head. One of his hands rests idly against your thigh, thumb occasionally stroking against the fabric of your leggings. "Well I must say, I don't think you'll ever top this."

You let out a loud laugh at his arrogance that has Mattheo swooning as he stares at you.

"What?" you ask, face wide with a smile as you reach up to brush your hands against your mouth. "Do I have something on my face?"

He leans in closer, voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah, you have an eyelash right here-" he reaches his hand to brush away the stray lash that had fallen onto your cheek but before he does, he presses a searing kiss to your lips.

Momentarily stunned, you react a second late before you wrap your arms around his neck, letting him lay you across the gingham blanket. He smiles against your lips and you can't help but lick at the seam of them until he lets you explore his mouth with your tongue, groaning as he grinds his hips against your's.

The peaceful atmosphere is disrupted by the incessant flapping of wings that has you detaching your lips from his. Looking around curiously you spot the intruder floating around in your peripheral.

"I thought I made it clear that I abhored the idea of a Cupid shooting an arrow at us." you say with a huff as the angel like creature lines up it's bow and arrow. To his credit, Mattheo actually looks confused as he swivels his head in the direction you're looking in.

"I- I didn't-" he pauses before shooting a scathing look towards the door. "Fucking Theodore thinks he's so funny."

The Cupid's arrow makes it's mark and all you feel is a pinch, no less painful than a pin prick, before the loud laughter of your friend is heard from behind the door. You'd find it hillarious if it was anyone else, but not while you were having such an intimate moment.

Mattheo looks about ready to maim his best friend, but you stop him by wrapping your legs around his hips.

"Leave it, Théo. He's just being a dick because he's got no Valentine this year." you say, making your voice louder so that Theo can hear you clearly. You hear his receding footsteps along with his echoing laughter that has Mattheo easing up, but he's clearly speaking to Theo as there's a clouded look in his raging onyx eyes.

"Sorry love." he says as he presses kisses down your neck, reaching for the hem of your jumper that is quickly discarded. You look up at him with an expression that has him melting into you instantly. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but something was stopping you; you knew it was irrational, knew that he felt the same way about you.

But you wanted to tell him when the time was right, and no matter how perfect, you knew that this wasn't that moment. You were content in bathing in his otherworldly presence, pressing kisses to his mouth, nose, cheeks and neck as he worshipped you under the stars.

Your time together was a reprieve from everything happening around you; there was a darkness looming about the castle, but in Mattheo's arms you felt infinitely safe.

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

#mattheo riddle x reader #serendipity series #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #fluff #valentines day #drabble

[monstersandmaw]

You know that ‘but what if there was a good one’ trope of the ‘monsters’ from movies/media etc.? I’m thinking of BG3 (because BG3 brainrot is constant right now)…

What if there was someone in the shadow cursed lands who was undead but not hostile? What if this character could help your party? Or could be welcomed into your camp as a follower? Not heroic or anything. Just a lil undead guy (gn).

Maybe they cook for your party, or maybe you find a lute and bring it back, but no one at camp can play it so it gets set aside, but they pick it up and strum a few chords and remember what it felt like to be alive? What if they can fletch and enchant arrows for you? What if they’re so desperate to be useful and loved and cherished that they’ll do anything not to be sent out into the cursed, dark, echoing shadows again? spoilers they don’t have to *do* anything to earn their place, but after 100 yrs they don’t know that

What if they can pass as the undead and slink out of camp after your party one day, only to find you surrounded and struggling, so they grab a dagger from a nearby corpse and chuck a bag of healing potions and scrolls at you at the last minute and literally save everyone, and they’re celebrated and hugged and thanked that night back around the fire and finally feel like they have a home and a family again after a hundred years of fear and isolation and loneliness…

What if…?

Oof.

#bg3 #shadow cursed ​undead #but what if there was a good one #monster headcanons #undead #ghosti’s ramblings #baldur’s gate 3

[ceruleancattail]

“What are you doing with that camera, Rook?” (Yandere)

(LEZZ GO CERUUUUUUUUUUU! ONCE AGAIN— CONGRATS ON REACHING 700+ ;;;; It’s so nice to see you thrive !! Also— you better take breaks and rest >:///// can’t fight without a good breather yk)

Moist cloth has this remarkable way of clinging onto your skin. What was once a ironed white shirt was reduced to a sopping wet rag, plastering itself onto your back. Your potions partner was a little too trigger happy with the ingredients, and the result?

You got blasted in the face.

Thankfully, it wasn’t anything too serious. No side effects… unless you count the wet clothes that cling onto your back.

Stepping out of class, you started a brisk pace towards the washroom. Wringing out your clothes and praying for the best was the best option.

Ramshackle dorm wasn’t the most accessible place, especially from the main building. There just wasn’t enough time for you to run back and grab a fresh set of uniform.

Hands reaching for your arms, you give them a vigorous rub, trying to preserve whatever feeble embers of warmth that still remained.

A tap on your shoulder. You spin around to the left, greeted by an empty hallway. Another tap on your left. This time, your hand rushed upwards, smashing the offender’s hand in between your palm and your shoulder.

A laugh, deep and bellowing. Thunder before a storm. You turn, only greeted with outstretched hands, piercing eyes of emerald staring into your eyes.

Rook Hunt. One of the more prominent seniors. A shake of his head has golden locks swaying wildly. A testament to his wilder nature, perhaps. He was a hunter, after all.

Hands reaching for your uniform, he pats your arms, gasping at the moisture.

“Ah, mi amour, what tragedy has befallen you?”

You shrug his hands off, folding your arms.

“Potion accident.”

Another theatrical gasp from Rook, before he grabs your arms, pinning them to your sides. His eyes are wide open, overflowing with concern. Yet within those same eyes, a certain darkness was brewing. The plans of a hunter, slowly cornering his prey.

A shiver raced down your spine, settling deep within its base. This was probably what Rook’s pray felt, before an arrow slices through their chest, pinning them to the ground. However, Rook would never hurt a fellow student… right?

Leaning in, Rook slips off his blazer in one fluid motion. With a flourish, he has it around your own shoulders. There was a certain scent to it. The smell of the woodlands, bark and dew. Some of his own body warmth lingered in the fabric, offering you some much needed relief from the cold.

Despite your earlier distrust of Rook, you find yourself pulling the blazer tighter around you. A rather nice gesture, especially for a student of Night Raven College.

“Th.. thanks, Rook.”

“Anytime, mi amour.”

Turning back around, you take a step forward, fully intending to resume your march to the restroom. An audible “click” rings out, echoing down the hallway, bouncing off the walls.

The click of a shutter button.

You spun around wildly, eyes wide with panic. Rook Hunt lowers a camera from his eyes, the ghost of a coy smile playing on his lips. His eyes are narrowed, staring you down as if you were the shaft of an arrow.

“What are you doing with that Camera, Rook?”

Upturned palms faced you, as if he was begging for your pardon. It would have been apologetic, if only he wasn’t smiling. That grin stretched from ear to ear, beaming like a thousand light bulbs.

“Forgive me, you just looked rather enchanting in my blazer. I couldn’t resist.”

“Delete it.”

You glare daggers at him, voice hardened with fury. For all your efforts to look menacing, Rook only shrugs, that sickeningly patronising smile still stuck on his face.

“Ah, Mi amour. If you asked me to hunt every beast in the land, I would gladly do so. However this request of yours…”

Rook bows, sweeping his hat off his head, holding it tightly to his chest.

“I cannot fulfil.”

Taking a knee, he reaches for your hand. Holding it tightly in his own, Rook doesn’t give you much room to fight back. Stuck in his vice grip, all you could do was to submit.

“Please do not look that despondent, mi amour. I promise you, no one but me will have the blessing of viewing these images.

After all, a hunter rarely shares his prize.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #rook hunt #twst rook #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #yandere rook hunt #yandere rook hunt x reader #Yandere rook #yandere rook x reader #calamity

[letters-unsending]

No. 51

////

“Stab me.”

Superhero tossed a dagger onto Villain’s desk. It spun on the ruby embedded in its hilt and Villain blinked as it slowed to a stop, blade angled toward Superhero’s waist.

“Excuse me?”

Villain sputtered, glancing around his cubicle: three white walls, sloping stacks of paper, laptop puttering away in the corner. And in the center, stood Superhero. His armor smoked at the edges and ash drifted down from his pauldrons, darkening the cream carpet.

“I believe you’re in the wrong part of the building. If you want to put in a request, you’ll have to go through one of the higher-ups. They’re at the top floor–”

“I don’t need your boss. I need you.” Superhero insisted, pointing at the dagger. The ruby gleamed like a serpent’s eye. “Next week, at the gala, stab me with this. I know you’ll be there.”

“I don’t stab people,” Villain hissed, “especially not supers. I value my life. If I raised even a finger against you, half the Organization would be on my tail.”

“I’ll protect you.” Superhero leaned forward, palms spread over Villain’s desk, voice cutting to a whisper, “I can free you from this place. You’ll never have to work for [Supervillain] again.”

“No one leaves. I can’t leave,” Villain insisted, “you know what happens.”

“There are limits to his power,” Superhero argued, “he won’t be able to find you. I can assure that.”

Villain reached forward and curled his fingers around the ruby. Power purred through his palm and over his knuckles, alighting the hairs on his arm.

“Tracking enchantment,” he observed, “this will hit no matter who throws it. Why me? And why go through all the trouble of protecting me afterward?”

“It was always meant to be you.” Superhero swore, steel in his eyes. He placed his hand atop Villain’s and the power surged, coursing through Villain’s shoulders. Energy filled his chest and rolled against his sternum as he breathed.

“How cliche,” Villain droned, reigning in the urge to rip his hand away. Superhero’s hand appeared gentle, his fingers draped loosely over Villain’s, but the weight was controlled. As Superhero pressed down, Villain swore each facet of the gem would imprint its face upon his skin.

“You are my destiny,” Superhero smiled, letting up his grip, “my ruin, the arrow to my Achilles heel.”

Villain snatched his hand back into lap. “Did some prophet run away with all your fortune after telling you that?”

“No, I saw it. I saw you.” Sighing, Superhero staggered back. Dirt and ash fell with the sweep of his cape. “Everything. Everything ends with you. Only you can—”

////

Light flashed, encompassing the cubicle in white.

As Villain blinked at the carpet, where a black mark now scored through the center and part way up the wall, his coworker poked her head through the entrance. Her nose wrinkled at the lingering scent of smoke and she twisted her heel to tamp the smolder at the carpet’s fringe.

“Tough customer?”

“They were certainly demanding,” Villain muttered, dragging the dagger into his topmost desk drawer.

“What was that?” She inquired, sidling in.

“New letter opener.” Villain coughed and tapped his hand over a stack of papers. “Hey, we’re still good with covering the venue on Saturday, right?”

#writeblr #villain #writing prompt #hero #prompt #villain prompt #writing #hero prompt #hero x villain #drabble #I am not satisfied with the pacing. #But I need to write more lol

[oksana-moods]

Queens of Promise - Final Part

Summary: The journey is a work of art, they say. And if to grow one needs to bleed, then you certainly paid your price. 

A/N: Writing this part was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Nothing seemed fit, nothing seemed good enough for a Last Part. There were some feelings or emotions that I couldn’t quite grasp, unfortunately, so to give you this part without stalling any further, I decided to move on with what I had. Hope you guys like it. Thank you to the ones who stayed or kept asking for the end of this story. Thank you everyone who spared a time of your life to read my work. And to the ones who shared some love, thank you.

As always, it means the world to me. 

Previous Parts here

Warnings: Game of Thrones kind of violence, language. Mentions of blood and death.

“We were the Kings and Queens of promise We are the Queens”

Your limbs hurt, it feels like daggers are piercing through your skin with every step taken, yet you’re standing. It’s astounding.

Just like the people of Taharr, who gathered under the castle walls alongside the river shores from both sides. From your point of view they looked like ants, but there were more than thousands willing to pay their respects, their last courtesy to Queen Calanthe. The Strong Lioness.

The Lords, Ladies and other knights were allowed inside the castle walls and would attend the ceremony on the inner patio, the one with the river view.

However, you and a very selected few were in the winter garden, where there were statues of the former kings and queens, soon there would be one of Calanthe too. Too soon for your liking.

Many rivers grew or were born from a mountain of rocks, but the “Castle River” started from inside the boulders and rocks where Triskelion Castle was built in, its first appearance was, in fact, in the winter garden.

This spot of crystal clear water had a coffin boat on it, beautifully decorated with golden lionesses and adorned with chrysanthemums, your mother’s favorite flowers. They were simple - misunderstood she used to say, but they were always pretty.

Usually, the ceremony occurred on the seashore, at Pierce Coast, however, contemplating the attacks and the coup attempt, you had decided to stay and proceed with the burial in the capital, from the castle.

You knew how far you could shoot an arrow from this height and considering the winter garden stood close to fifty meters from the ground, would be a long shot. She deserved no less.

Three women covered from head to toe in full white gowns with golden lines forming some sort of pattern arrived at the garden where you stood and started to enchant their elder song.

It was always beautiful to watch, but the lines of the old druid poem touched a little too close this time.

The elder song was meant to guide the spirit to afterlife, the lines referred to the circle of life provided by the water. Every energy, every soul, everything was water. The flow of the universe.

You tried, but it was impossible not to share a tear or two as the last verse was sung. The song was about to end, your mother’s time as ruler was about to end. This was a reality that you did not want to acknowledge.

Your mother was gone.

And you were alone.

As the song ended, the men close to the boat looked at you expectantly, looking for your signal to release your mother on the river, to go down with the flow. As her boat was released, you tightened the grip around the bow on your hand.

Your knuckles hurt, but everything in you hurts, there’s nothing new.

You casted your eyes downwards, following the boat but also watching as the others knelt as it passed by, never stopping, the water flow was inexorable just as life was. 

It was painful, it was raw. It was true.

The seconds passed and your eyes burned just as your heart was, it was time for you to shoot your arrow in flames, only you couldn’t. After your shot, there was no turning back.

Maria, who stood several steps ahead, looked back at you. Even without words you knew what she meant. It was time. But you couldn’t.

She nodded, encouraging you to lift your useless arm and loose the arrow as you were supposed to. But you couldn’t.

You looked down at the fire pit in front of you, waiting to kiss your arrow and, as the flames danced, you blinked your tears away. Your hands were shaken.

“How can you shoot so far, mother?” The childish voice made the woman look down at you and she smiled that tender smile of hers.

“Practice, love.” She approached you with her bow, beautifully crafted and adorned with rubies, she extended it to you and encouraged you to hold it properly.

Now, standing right behind you, she commanded. “Take a deep breath and, as you do, pull the string with your other arm.” You did as you were told and she kind of guided, kind of corrected your movement. “Take your aim and release.”

Your movement faltered. “How do I aim, mother?” You heard a snort a second later after your question.

“Both eyes open, love. Choose your target and point the arrow at it, that’s your aim.” She instructed and guided your little hands. “Never lose sight of it. inhale, exhale, release.” Her voice was soft in your ear.

It was a little overwhelming. Only ten summers had passed for you, but your training was intensive. You wanted to play gobstones, wanted to play pass the ball, throw your hat, all the games the other kids were playing, yet, you couldn’t. Your free time was scarce as a breeze during summer. As a future ruler, you were supposed to train, study, observe, learn. There was no time for anything else.

“I can’t do this, momma.” You muttered after a second, for your arms got too stiff and shaken, you lowered them before you could loosen the arrow.

“Why not?” She inquired, never leaving her place behind you.

“My arms hurt. I’m terrible at this.” You confessed. From all the activities she requested for you to take, bow and arrow was the worst. You were the worst at it.

A second snort was heard and she squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Your arms will hurt if you overthink. Do it swiftly.” After a light tap on your chin, you turned your face to her. “And you’re not terrible, you’re afraid of failure. Don’t be.”

“What if I miss?” You blinked as she laughed lightly at your question.

“If you miss, you go and take another shot.” Her smile could light up the whole world. “Failing is to give up, so there’s no failing, as long as you try again. Be stubborn.”

At this, your face lit up like a tree during the summer festivals. “I can be stubborn!” You offered as if this was all that was missing in your life for you to accomplish your goals. Maybe it was.

With renewed interest and spirit, you turned to your target once more and pulled the string again, following her guidance as if it was a recipe.

“Don’t overthink.” She muttered behind your ear and hell, you heard her smile when you did as told. Your hand let go of the string and your eyes followed your arrow until it reached the target, almost a hand away from the bullseye, it wasn’t perfect, but you were content.

You could be stubborn.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you blinked again at the arrow on your hand, begging for you to bathe it in flames and let it paint the blue sky.

“You can do this.” Carol Danvers smiled softly by your side and you clenched your jaw.

Taking a deep breath, your arm pulled the string until it reached your cheek and you could see the flame dancing on the tip of your arrow, the boat caught on your blurred vision.

Inhale. Exhale. Release.

Thousands of eyes followed as the arrow crossed the sky on that pale morning. As it flew, your heart hammered your ribcage.

You let out a low whistle when the arrow missed the boat and dived a foot away from the boat where your mother slowly and continuously flowed with the waters.

You had missed.

You had failed.

All of a sudden, you felt a light breeze hit your face and you sworn by all heavens that your nostrils were invaded by your mother’s perfume. Your lungs burned as chrysanthemums claimed the air around you.

Another light squeeze on your shoulder and, handling you another arrow, Danvers stubbornly said. “You can do this.”

Stubborn.

“I can be stubborn.” You muttered, doing the same thing you did seconds before. You lowered the point of the arrow on the fire pit and soon pulled the string until it touched your cheek again.

Inhale. Exhale. Release.

The people on the banks of the river resumed the chant started by the White Ladies as the boat was engulfed in flames. It was beautiful, it was disheartening.

As the boat sank, you retreated into the castle. Your steps were heavy, stiffy as if walking took a toll on you.

Your mother’s sun sank into the fate's waters.

Your sun had just begun its ascension.

– – –

The chill in the air could almost be touched. The Winter Garden was taken by a thick haze, yet you could still see what was in front of you.

The stone, carved to resemble the woman your mother once was, felt cold, probably colder than it should be, but you touched it, nonetheless.

Almost a moon had passed and the crafters worked non-stop until this memorial statue was ready, you were adamant that it should be before your coronation. And here you were, hours away from officially being crowned the new Queen of Taharr, in front of the last queen, seeking comfort.

“I never really gave much thought of how this would be,” You spoke to the stone, it remained immovable, as you knew it would. “But I never thought it’d be this hard.” 

Even with all the things you had to do after the last battle, known as the Battle of the Failed Coup, your head didn’t rest or stopped thinking about your mother. After a while, it became pretty common for you to speak out loud as if she was present and would engage the conversation. 

You were past the point of feeling silly, now it brought you a mild sense of comfort. It was odd, you knew, but one should work with what they got and if you had to go through your grieving, you’d do it your own way.

“How am I supposed to move on?” You asked but your words were engulfed by the fog and died in nothingness just like all the others. You felt so not ready for this, completely unprepared and the urgency only drove you a little bit closer to the brink of the edge of your sanity.

She would hate to see you stuck in the mud like you were, and you’re afraid you’re becoming everything you hate. However, day after day, the weight of your decisions and their aftermath sometimes felt a burden too heavy for your shoulders. And you hated to feel so incapable, so defeated. 

First, you thought you were listening to things, but then the unmistakable sound of shoes scraping the wet grass properly reached your ears and you knew you were not alone anymore, a person - not a ghost - was about to arrive where you were. 

“Thought I’d find you here.” Maria Rambeau's voice filled the silence after she stopped right behind you.

You ignored her choice of greeting and fired. “What have I done, Maria?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, my queen.” The woman shifted, side walking to level her eyes with yours. You all but flinch at the measure, you’re still not prepared to be called the supreme ruler of Tahar. Still feeling undeserving of the title you’re supposed to bear. 

“All this time, all the lessons and I feel like it was all for nothing. She’s dead and that’s because of me. It’s all my fault.” There you were, digging deeper into the mud of remorse and guilt. You felt like a wreck, beyond repair. 

“If I may, I don’t see it that way, my lady.” Maria starts. “Queen Calanthe died a true queen’s death, fighting for her people feistily, as she always did.” She paused for a second to make sure you were listening. “Your mistakes or even Loki’s betrayal can’t and won’t diminish the importance of her sacrifice, of her strength.”

Her hands pointed to the castle you were standing on, as to emphasize her next words. “The enemy had us in a chokehold, yet Triskelion resisted, she endured and Taharr prevailed. There will be so many songs about this feature, my lady.” 

“What will I do with songs?” You retorted like a petty child.  

“Revel in them! For she’ll always be alive, in every ballad sang from a bard and in our hearts. In your heart.” She replied without missing a beat, adamant in making her point of view crystal clear.

“And now?” You inquired. Unsure to whom, if to the wind, to your friend or to the memory of your mother, you did not know. “There was so much to learn. There’s a whole kingdom waiting for me to guide them but I feel so lost.

“I don’t know if I should gather the army and seek revenge or if I should prepare for winter and reinforce the borders.” You continued your rant. “If I should reunite with the other kings to hold Hydrarr’s plans or if I should just stand here, waiting.” You balled your fists, irritated with one of the feelings inside your heart. 

Being indecisive wasn’t a trait usually associated with you. Before, you’d say that is best to ask forgiveness than living a lifetime wondering what could have been. Before, you had your mind made up and set with a plan. Before, if things went wrong, you’d just go with the flow. 

That was before. 

“There are so many decisions, so many lives depending on me and said decisions. I feel like I’m crushing with the burden and crushing even further with each passing second.” You finish, now looking back to the stone, jaw clenched. 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Maria interjected. “I used to say these words to your mother and it is only fitting to keep saying it, because it’s still the truth.” 

Her words made you avert your eyes to your friend and there were so many thoughts running in your head, that it seemed difficult to organize or even prioritize given there was so much to be done.

Deciding on taking one step at a time, you shot. “Maria, remember that promise that you made me that you’d comply with everything I said after I became queen?” 

“Of course I do, my queen.” Maria smiled softly. “Is this the moment where I pledge to follow every single command of yours, no matter how silly they are?” She humored, not really knowing why the hell you brought this up. 

“No.” You turned back and looked at her. Your tone was so serious that you can see her forehead frowning. “I want you to be you. I want you to be my conscience… Would you do the honor of serving Taharr as High Advisor?” 

She’s taken back by your bluntness. This wasn’t small, actually, you were asking a lot of her but giving just as much. It was the second most powerful position in this Kingdom, losing only, of course, to the queen herself. “M-My queen? Are you sure?” 

“I am.” Few times in your life you felt that sure. 

She’s speechless for a moment. Perhaps trying to read the catch on your request, maybe weighing her options. 

“I won’t take shit from you if you try to play the queen card on me. If you want me to step in as Advisor, I want my voice to be heard and I don’t want blindspots.” Her face was devoid of that humor from seconds ago. She meant business and if you wanted her to take this job, there would be conditions. She wouldn’t pose as a mannequin    

“Deal.” You offered your hand for her to shake and seal the offer. “That’s exactly why I need you. I want to be as good as my mother was, and to do that I need someone to keep me on my toes.” You sighed, now deflated. “There’s no one else here to do that.”

“You are good.” She intervened. “You’re worried about the right things, everyone makes mistakes.” Maria squeezed your shoulder affectionately, trying to pull you back from the sorrow abyss you were floundering in. “We just have to learn how to pick ourselves up now. We’ll do this together.”

You nod, but let her words simmer through your head while you take a few steps until the edge of the Garden, where you could see the city below. The sun had only started to rise and the fog was slowly dissipating around you or the city. 

“Learn.” You try the word in your mouth as if a wine for you to taste. You had learnt so much in this past year. Hate. Love. Fear. Heartbreak. Grief.  

“Can I ask you something personal, Maria?” You asked, briefly glancing at your friend then looking back down, to the small buildings bathing on the first light of the day. Maria barely nodded her head to signal for you to go on, then you fired. “How did you know Carol was the one?

She remained silent for a few seconds, looking down, you knew she had heard you, for this was her telltale that her brain was working on an answer. “Do you remember when your mother created the High Guard?”

“She asked for the mightest and greatest knights from every village in Taharr. It didn’t matter their status. First it was a tournament, then the best were selected so you’d fight against each other until only the best kept standing.” You remembered, despite being relatively young. It lasted for weeks and you were mesmerized by many warriors displaying incredible techniques and skills.  

“Exactly. Carol and I were from different villages, so the tournament was the reason why we met and she challenged me in every possible way.” Maria began, eyes flashing with memories of a brilliant past, if the smile on her lips said anything. 

“In the tournament she was my rival, but after, at the sparring turns, she came with everything she had. She was marvelous indeed: strong, fast, powerful, yet, I could always find a way to counter her attacks.

“We kept our little competition, even after the tournament, even after we were both granted our current titles for bravery and skill set, but there had always been this pull between us, you know?

“I’d both hate and love that smile of hers and she later confessed she both hated and loved my bossy face. When she finally let her guard down, I saw the woman behind the title, behind the Marvelous and she was beautiful - I simply knew Carol was my person.”

You nod as if to thank her for her explanation while you stood there contemplating her words and their meaning. Eyes still cast down, you’re able to discern some dots that you knew were people, moving around the streets starting, preparing for another day. Completely unaware of your inner queries. 

“May I ask why you wonder, my queen?” Perhaps not only your citizens were unaware of the doubts clawing your guts. 

“I-.” You sighed, unsure of what words to use in an attempt to explain the turmoil in your head and chest concerning a certain princess that has already been spoken for. “I thought Wanda was the one.” You felt stupid for still giving thought to a woman who misled you. “For me.” 

Out of a sudden, you felt your back hurt again due the burden pressuring you as if to remind you of where your focus should be. It was not the time to think about Wanda. 

And speaking of hurt, you stared at the burnt mark on your hand, a last minute gift from your pal Lord Vision, as punishment for your audacity of touching Wanda in a way you were not supposed to. 

“For the first time in my life, I let myself be vulnerable and she did the same.” Your eyes met concerned obsidian orbs intently looking at you. “I swear she did and she showed me how wonderful she was on the inside.” 

Fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your tunic, you continued, eyes cast once more on the people moving on with their lives. The way you couldn’t. “There were so many flaws, Maria, fears… I loved that Wanda no one else knew.” 

A sad smile now adorned your lips. “And I hate to know she played me like a doll in a sick game. I hate to understand that I was just stupid for falling in love and believing that she loved me back.”

“You shouldn’t think that way, dear.” Turning to look at her again, you could see her eyes were soft, but there wasn’t a single trace of pity. “What your heart felt was your truth. I, myself, had a hard time believing that Princess Wanda was capable of something like this. But if she deceived you, that’s on her. She’s the one losing.” 

Her lips twitched a little, trying to give way to a small but sincere smile. “You are a wonderful person and whoever you choose to be your queen will be the luckiest woman for sure.”

You narrowed your eyes a little. Maria wasn’t one known for throwing compliments at the wind for no reason. With a slight smirk, you asked. “Are you saying this because you’re my friend?” 

She gasped, offended. “Of course not!” Then, the lines in her face turned a little less grave. “I’m telling you this because you are the Queen, my boss. Why else would I lie?” 

At her words, a laugh erupted from your chest as if a bubble wanted to set free. Your whole body shook and you could see hers did as well. 

For some reason, after this unexpected section of laughter, you felt a little less burdened, it was just tiny, but you felt a little bit lighter. 

As the laugh died down, she elbowed you lightly and called. “Come. There’s a coronation for you to get prepared for.” 

Wordlessly, you started to follow her, casually walking towards your chambers. Before your mind could travel to an unwanted, dark place of sorrow or worry, Maria’s voice found you again. 

“Have you heard your friend Aria Stark is here for your ceremony?” She never gave you the time to reply, for she completed her own thoughts. “And that her sister, aka your ex-fiancé, Queen Sansa, came as well?” 

“Oh.” It was all that you could mutter. You knew Aria should arrive soon, for she sent you a raven when she heard the news. Funny how a powerful friendship developed after you stumbled on a lost grieving girl in Braavos. 

But you were specially surprised by Sansa’s presence, you supposed she wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you, politely, declined her proposal offer. 

“‘Oh’” Maria mocked your tone. “I swear, you and your redheads.” 

– – – 

The raging storm knocked at the walls mercilessly, the thunder shook the whole castle as the lightning flashed the room alit every now and then. The fire in the fireplace danced erratically and you were surprised it still continued alive despite the wind making force through the cracks of the windows.

Staring at the cup of wine in your hand, you thought that maybe the weather was just mirroring the feelings in your chest. The taste of the wine faded from your tongue, but you could still taste Wanda’s love on your very lips. 

It was amazing, actually, how you could all but remember your time with her when confined in your chambers alone. If not sad, it would be mesmerizing the way you missed her lips and not even the strongest alcohol could numb it in your skin, in your mind or heart.

You wished you could escape the assault of memories and tender moments together, however, all you seemed to be capable of was to stumble on the ashes of your once upon a time with the northern princess. 

So much for your happy ending. 

Heavy knocks on the door broke your miserable daze and you cursed them, and entertained the idea of asking for their head on a spike for interrupting your sulking, but you assumed it’d be Maria. It would be more likely for her to have your head in one. 

Without waiting for your response, you were proven right, when she barged into the room as if she had run for miles. Her rapid breath made you anxious, for she hadn’t given you a single clue as to why she was so nervous and breathless. 

“My Queen, you won’t believe-.” She paused for air, but you hated the drama she created. There were thousands of things you wouldn’t believe in, but they were all running through your head. 

You wouldn’t believe it, but you entertained the idea of a dragon rampaging your realm. Or about flying whales passing above the city, with this storm, who could say?! Perhaps the Kree or Skrulls had organized and orchestrated a secret invasion and the city was doomed. Highly unlikely, but what if the same iced zombies that infected Westeros came to Noveria? After all, no one really knows what happens in Vormir. 

“My Queen-” She resumed, putting your imagination to rest. “Barton is here, alive. And the Black Widow is here with him.” Her eyes portrayed nothing, and you did hear the second part. Lady Natasha, your enemy’s loyalist was in your castle, the nerve. 

But you chose to focus on the first part, for lately, good news was just scarce as the leaves during winter. Your beloved friend, the one that taught you so much, the very one you thought you had lost - just another casualty to your naivety and recklessness, was back and alive. 

At least this was definitely good news and yeah, this was something you couldn’t believe in. 

You started to move around your room, gathering the minimum of clothes to be presentable before your subjects and you thought how much you have changed, a few months ago and you wouldn’t have minded if you were half naked. 

As you approached your closet, you barked at Maria. “Take Clint and Romanoff to the Great Hall. Call the cooks and bring whatever they can prepare this fast and get a barrel of our finest wine.” The High Advisor nodded and started to leave the room, but stopped when you spoke once more. 

“And for fuck’s sake send a word to Lady Laura, immediately.” A sharp nod and she fled to comply with your orders. 

The fire cracked calmly in the fireplace, giving the foolish idea that everything was calm despite the thunderstorm raging against the walls, despite the storm increasing inside your chest.

As soon as you entered, you spotted three figures standing, close to the fireplace - Maria, Carol and Sam. And another two figures seated at the table, one in front of another, eating rather fast - they were starving. 

The quietness of the Hall was violently interrupted by your heels clacking against the marble floor as you marched towards the people gathered and saw their heads rising from their meals to look at you. 

Even a few meters away, you saw Clint limping from his chair and sunk his knees on the floor, looking directly at your eyes. “My Queen.” The weight of his eyes and tone showed you his grief, his – your ruefulness. 

Before your hand could touch his shoulder, you saw Natasha Romanoff also kneeling slightly behind Clint, eyes cast on the floor and voiced. “Queen Lioness, my condolences.” The action surprises you, surely, but you’re mostly stunned because of her tone. 

It almost seemed that she meanted what she had just said, that she was indeed sad about your mother’s death, even though her Kingdom, her army, was responsible for this fact. 

Confused, you nodded. Then, resumed your previous action and pulled Clint by his shoulders, so he could get to his feet, and hugged him. 

“I thought you were dead.” You confided, voice as far from a queen’s as possible, twice as weak. “I’m so glad you’re not.” 

He returned your embrace just as tight. You knew what you had suffered, only the gods could know what this man had endured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it faster.” And by his words you knew he blamed himself for not being here during the battle, the coup attempt. Or the burial. He, too, blamed himself for Queen Calanthe’s death. 

“You’re here now.” You patted his cheek and gave him a weak smile. You meant your words, but it still hurt, you wouldn’t deny it. 

Taking a deep breath to help you fall into the character you were supposed to play, you raised your chin slightly and directed a hard glare at Natasha, with a matching hard tone directed at Clint. “Now you want to explain why there is an enemy, a Sokovian no less, still breathing inside my castle?” 

– – – 

“You’re lying.” You hissed, for the thousandth time. You just couldn’t believe what they, especially Natasha, were trying to say to you. 

“Why would I lie?” She asked, tiredly, arms crossed in her chest. You amused the idea of putting her in chains, to make her understand her position, you even entertained the idea of taking her to her room, a cell in the dungeons, to retribute the hospitality. 

But in the end, you gave in after Barton pledged on your friendship’s name for you to listen to them, to the both of them. The only problem is that they were suggesting absurd things to a very jaded woman. 

“Oh.” You mocked confusion. “Why would a Sokovian lie, Romanoff?” You shot back venomously. “You’ve been lying this whole time! I don’t even know your reasons anymore!” At this, you threw the decorated invitation you had received earlier at the table. 

The marks of burnt and crinkles of a parchment recently crumbled in a paper ball were visible, but also visible was its content. Without even trying to hide your disgust, you started to spat the words engraved not only in the paper, but also in your mind.

“Prince Vision, heir of Hydrarr, son of Red Skull, proudly announces his marriage to Princess Wanda Maximoff, heir of Sokovia, daughter of King Django and Queen Marya Maximoff, with the blessings of King Pietro, who announces his retirement due critical illness. The ceremony will be due in two moons. This invitation is extended to the friendly realms to Sokovia.”

Taharr wasn’t, obviously, a friendly realm to Sokovia. This was probably Vision’s way of taking an opportunity of messing with your head a little further. Or, perhaps, this could be Wanda’s doing. Who knew?

Whoever sent this, did on the sole purpose of fucking with you. And they succeeded. 

Maria, Carol and Sam gasped at your words, they were just as shocked as you were. You knew about the marriage, it hurt like hell to see a confirmation, but you were completely in the dark about Lord Vision’s - now Prince Vision - origins. 

Not to mention the news about Pietro’s retirement, since when does a King or Queen retire? All the ones you knew died and their rest would be in the afterlife. What the fuck was going on?

A more rational part of your brain understood the geopolitics involved in this marriage: Hydrarr and Sokovia would become one united Kingdom, with its forces and ruthlessness combined, who knew where they’d stop? With King Pietro’s retirement, Wanda and Vision would, respectively, become Queen and King of the combined territory. 

With a start, you realized the only ones who did not bore impressed looks were Clint and Natasha. They already knew about this. And, for a split second, you almost doubted your friend. Almost. 

“And that’s a coup.” Clint pointed at the paper while the Black Widow simply wrinkled her nose as if the parchment had a bad smell. “A very well orchestrated one, might I add. They’re overthrowing Pietro.” 

Your eyes darted back to him and he continued. “I told you, Lord Vision has been contaminating Sokovia for years. Day after day, he’s working to make it more Hydrarr’s. And with this marriage? He’ll achieve it.” 

“Harv Krickitt told you this?” You asked about the man, the jeweler, who crafted the piece of jewel the Black Widow assigned to kill you had received as payment. Barely a year has passed, but it felt so, so long ago, almost another life. 

Remembering that day, that night, your eyes were hard and jaw so clenched it hurt, still, a pale contrast to the pain brought by the memories dancing behind your eyes. 

“Kricket told us Vision was the one to ask for the necklace, with the lioness’ pendant. But he was asked to deliver it to Barnes’ care.” Natasha answered, voice as if made of stone. “He killed Steve during the attack. Those men, that day? They were a Hydrarr unit, a cover up.”

“As everything so far, my queen, this was a set up.” Clint completed. And you laughed at the absurd image they were trying to paint. Inwardly. Outside it looked more like a snort that could very well be mistaken with a choke.

“You want me to believe that Pietro, that Wanda,” Your voice failed, it’s been months since you last spoke her name out loud. You tried not to show any weaknesses, but your heart still skipped a beat and you hated it. “-had nothing to do with this?” 

“Precisely.” His words were unwavering. He was certain and you seriously wondered how badly your friend had been compromised. 

If you were the older you, this thought wouldn’t have even popped into your head, because it'd be straight away unfathomable, but the older you died after facing the treason of people so dear to you. Wanda’s betrayal was a stab in the guts, for sure, but Loki’s? It killed your heart. 

So, who could blame you for asking? 

“Did you turn?” Your tone was flat, devoid of emotion. 

Across the room, your peripheral sight caught heads snapping at you or even the sound of an intake of a good amount of air. The other occupants of this room judged you had gone too far on your assumption and that this was not what someone with Clint’s reputation should hear upon returning home. 

But you didn’t care that this could offend him or even if you were calling him traitor right on his face, you were the queen, weren’t you? You were entitled to. 

To his credit, Lord Barton didn’t even flinch at your question, his voice, still unwavering. “I would never!”

Your eyes searched for his, scrutinized his soul looking for any sign of deceit but you found nothing. He was speaking the truth. 

Nodding as to show you accepted his answer, you resumed the conversation. “What are you suggesting?” 

“Vision has the Maximoff twins in a hook.” He fired back without wasting a second, if you were willing to hear him, there was no time to waste. And, as if on cue, Natasha expanded the idea started by Clint. 

“Pietro is ill, that part is true, but Vision is threatening Wanda’s life if he does not step back.” This sentence ignited a fire in your whole being, even though you didn’t know what to believe. If all of this is true or not, it didn’t matter, the idea of someone hurting Wanda made you very angry. “And Wanda has to marry Vision, otherwise he’ll kill Pietro.” 

Your head snapped at the redhead seated in front of you so fast it felt like a whiplash, at the same time, your heart rate skyrocketed to the moon. 

“You mean she hadn’t agreed with this marriage on her own?” You carefully chose your next words, you wanted to make sure your ears and your brain were not playing games with you. “Are you telling me that she won’t marry him because she wants, but obliged to keep her brother safe?” 

“I am.” Her confirmation blew the air out of your lungs. 

Alarmed, you got off your seat and retreated to the fireplace, which still cracked, unbothered by the revelations these walls have just witnessed. You tried to remind yourself to keep breathing, because these past minutes were beyond intense. 

Your head was still trying to wrap itself around the proposition the spies were presenting to you and, at the same time, your heart was trying to grasp the meaning behind these implications. 

Wanda was about to marry a man because of her duty to her brother, to protect the last blood attachment she has with her family. And if she was forced to marry him, if Pietro was not involved, then could this mean-? 

“Wanda would never betray you, My Queen.” Clint’s voice reached your ears as if he spoke from miles away, but he knew how fast your head and heart were running, he knew what sort of questions plagued your mind. “She was devastated, went berserk after she found the house you shared empty.” 

Contradictory emotions clashed on your chest and you didn’t even know what those emotions were, for there were so many. And just like that, you didn’t know what to think or what to make out of this. 

For so long, you believed and were led to believe that Wanda had participated, organized this ploy like a brilliant sociopath. You blamed her for your suffering, you hated her and called names in the confines of your room at night while tears ran free down your cheek. 

You cursed the feeling she made you feel and now someone dares to say otherwise. Someone dares to say you got it all wrong, that you were lied to and the woman you loved had nothing to do with this? 

“This is profanity.” You whispered, but somehow Clint heard, despite the heavy rain outside. 

“I’m not lying.” He confirmed, as if this was all that you needed to accept this plot twist. 

“You can’t possibly think that I’ll believe this, Clint. I was put through hell.” You cried, disregarding the others still present, you didn’t care if they saw you weak right now. This wasn’t news to them after all.

Without a word, Natasha pulled something from her battered purse and you were about to turn away again when she opened her hand, palm flat upwards, offering you its content. Your eyes narrowed due the feeble light, tiredness and to try and keep the tears from falling. 

“Wanda gave me this.” The Black Widow spoke solely to you, for she knew the others didn’t know what was in her hand nor its meaning. “She said you would understand-” And by the looks of it, Natasha herself didn’t really know what was the meaning of what she was carrying either. “and I quote ‘It’s impossible to hold back the wind”. 

It was dirty, but with a step or two you could very well distinguish the trace and pattern of a tied knot in a rope, it was unmistakable that it was the same piece of Aberdeen rope you had given Wanda in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

The memory, though, surfaced as if it was yesterday. 

Wanda watched as you absentmindedly ran a hand through your hair. “Why do I feel so tied to you?” She wondered out loud, after you settled down close to her at the cushions sprawled on the floor.

“I don’t know.” You smiled softly, offering her a cup of tea. “But if it makes you feel better, I feel just the same.” You countered and she smiled away. 

It was unclear if your answer had pleased her or not. Sometimes you felt as though you knew Wanda like the palm of your hand and others, just like now, it was as if she was a stranger that had just arrived in the room. 

Sometimes it was impossible to decipher her silence. 

After a while, she turned to you with a bittersweet smile gracing her heavenly lips. “Do you think this will last forever?”  

You were touched, paralyzed even, for you didn’t really know what she specifically meant with ‘this’. It could be the feeling of being tied or the tie itself - conversations like these with Wanda were like treading on thin ice or holding on a breakable thread. So you remained muted, waiting for further context. 

“Forever. Don’t you think this is such a strange concept?” She chuckled humorlessly. “Forever doesn’t even exist, if we think about it.” She rambled with brows furrowed. 

“Forever could last a lifetime.” You tried tentatively, still unsure of where this conversation was heading to. 

“Forever could last a whole minute.” She retaliated without missing a beat. She wasn’t even looking at you anymore, but to a fix point at the wall as if it could show her the future if she stared at it for long enough. 

“You don’t know how long your forever will last.” Now, your brows were also crinkled only your eyes were cast on the mug nested on your hands. “No one knows.” 

“What do people do, then?” You looked at her, but her inquiry seemed genuine. 

You laughed at the absurd. You had no clue about what they do with their forevers. To be honest, you didn’t know anything about this. “I don’t know. I guess, they live the best they can, nonetheless?” You supplied. 

It was so strange, because during your whole life you’ve learnt a lot of things, but no one stopped even a second to explain to you what it was to like someone. To love someone. The ‘what to dos’ and the ‘hows’ were completely overlooked as you grew up. 

Tilting your head up, as if the sky could be of any help, your eyes caught sight of a rope loosely tied to the canopy, it wasn’t big, but you took a piece with your knife and expertly started to knot it down, your skills from your time as sailor showing off, and you were highly aware of Wanda’s eyes focused on you.

You pulled the tip of the rope from both sides but the knot remained untouched, the tie was still perfectly strong, as if made of stone. Then, you offered it to her, heart pounding in your chest as if you were handing her your own heart on a silver plate. 

She took it in her hands with a tenderness yet unseen, as if it was made of glass. “This tie could last forever.” Though you pointed to the piece of rope in Wanda’s hands, you both knew what tie you meant with your words. You just hoped she wouldn’t freak out with your naive, yet brave attempt to wish for impossible things. 

You were completely conscious that a future with Wanda was highly improbable. Still, you couldn’t help but dream that the two of you would find a way and make it work. Somehow.

“Can we stop this?” She asked, but this time she stressed the last words of her sentence and moved her hand between the two of you. This time, she was crystal clear about what she meant. 

“It’d be like holding back the wind.”

You touched it with a gentleness that no one in the room judged you’d possess. It burst a fire in your chest and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the emotion slipping through the cracks of your heart. 

It was impossible to ignore the hammering thoughts shooting through your head and there were so many, so loud that you thought you’d go crazy. 

This piece of fabric meant nothing and everything at the same time. 

“I need to think.” Without another word, your fingers closed around the material and your feet stormed out of the room to collect yourself in your own chambers, so you could ruminate about the implications laid upon you this night. 

— — 

“Stop this wedding!” Lady Danvers’ voice resonated throughout the Hall. “I’ve got an objection.” She looked sheepishly to the side and revealed a sly smirk and whispered for only you and her own wife to hear. “I always wanted to say this.” 

If the moment wasn’t so daunting, you’d probably laugh or retort some snide remark, but your eyes were solely focused on the woman dressed in white in front of the makeshift altar prepared for the occasion. 

There were shocked murmurs, metal clanging against metal, for you dragged the fight from the inner gates into the main hall of the castle, where the wedding was taking place. There were voices speaking, screaming words devoid of any meaning, for your ears ignored any and all of them. 

Her eyes were locked on yours and your knees felt weak; she was a sight to behold and worship. Like a true goddess, Wanda Maximoff’s dress made her look ethereal, as if she was sent from another dimension to cleanse this Earth’s sins and her eyes cast on yours burn with something you couldn’t know.

The contrast of white and red, from her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, was mesmerizing and it only made it difficult for you to think coherently. For a whole second you forgot where you were and what you should be doing. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Vision shot his hand to his sword, but with one look he realized he was outnumbered. 

A sly smirk crossed your lips, tongue as sharp as usual. “Well, you did send me the invitation, have you not?” With a start, you realized that your sarcastic self hadn’t vanished for good. 

You could make anyone mad with only a couple of words. And, oh, Prince Vision red with anger was one of your favorite sports. Just like he was. 

“You’re invading my castle!” His voice boomed throughout the room, in a futile attempt to intimidate and stop your advance. Poor him. 

“Last time I checked this was Maximoff’s.” You provoked, walking towards his direction, with the conviction that his goons would know better than to come your way. You were a woman on a mission and they wouldn’t stand a chance. 

In fact, there weren’t many goons available anymore. Rumlow was dead after all, and Natasha had her dagger dangerously close to Bucky’s throat rendering him immovable. And the others… Well, they wouldn’t dare to cross paths with you right now. 

Drawing his sword, Vision took one step towards you, but you could see that this action was just an automatic response, for his eyes darting around told you his head was running all the possible outcomes and, more importantly, how he’d get away from this. 

He wouldn’t. 

You were adamant in making him pay for every single word, or minute he made you suffer. For every lie, every single action and all the blood shared that he was responsible for. Especially your mother’s. Oh, you’d make sure he’d pay. 

“One shouldn’t draw a sword if not ready to bathe in blood.” Your words were marked by each step you took, hand with a tight grip on your own sword. To be honest, it looked like he wanted to try his chances with jumping from the window instead of facing you, but you had cornered him now. 

“You think I won’t kill you?” He threatened, lifting his sword so it’d be between you. Perhaps in his head this could make you stop.

It wouldn’t. 

“Will you try it by yourself or will you ask someone else to do what you can’t?” You jabbed back, but remained immovable only a few steps away from him. You were ready to take matters into your own hands, you were ready to go to hell and back. 

However you were a queen, threatening a prince under another king’s roof. Again, the older you, would be hands deep into Vision’s throat squeezing the life out of him, but your new version knew better. This was not your castle, nor your land. 

No matter how much this man had made you suffer, no matter how many crimes he committed to you and to your people. This was still Sokovia, another man’s realm, there were rules and you should step down on shedding blood at your will.

“You should surrender, Vision.” King Pietro rose to his feet, taking the cue from your pause. It was visible how this illness had an effect on him even though he was trying to be tough. 

The man, on the other hand, decided to ignore this modest warning and took another step, ready to clash his sword on yours, but before he could, another blade appeared under his chin, kissing the skin on his throat which made him stop in his tracks. 

Perhaps Wanda had that sword under her dress this whole time, perhaps she took from some random guard around her. In fact, it didn’t matter where that blade came from, because her intentions were clear and menace was evident in every inch of her being. 

“You’ll do what you were told.” Not that it was needed, but her eyes screamed danger. Vision could be many things, but he wasn’t crazy enough to ignore the threat underlining her words. “You’ll abide to the King’s order.” 

Visibly cornered and defeated, the prince dropped his sword and looked up with a sorrowful eye, ready to beg for one of the Maximoffs for mercy. 

“Take this idiot out of my face.” Pietro commanded no one in particular, not that he needed, and two guards pushed Prince Vision out of the hall, closely followed by Clint and Carol. They certainly would make sure he’d stay locked. 

By then, all the guards loyal to Vision or Hydrarr were dead or arrested. It was the first part of the plan, designed in Triskelion: to take down Vision, they’d need to undermine his influence, take his minions to be able to weaken his power inside the castle.

The last part was the invasion itself and the dramatic wedding interruption.  

Your head was highly aware that you were needed to stop this plot orchestrated by Red Skull. After all, Taharr was one of the most powerful realms in Noveria, even though shaken, Triskelion was still a stronghold against enemies in this continent. Taharr was the only realm that could prevent this coup. 

No one else would be this effective, this fast or this invested. One could say that it was the smartest thing to do, that no other vengeance would be greater, but your heart hammered your ribcage looking at the redhead barely meters away from you. 

There was nothing else greater than the way she was looking at you. 

With a start, you didn’t know what to do now. All this time, you and your friends thought what needed to be done to stop the coup, your mind didn’t wander to the moment after it. Again, you were used to fighting, but what was expected to be done after the fight?

Even more, after those wonderful days in that cozy house, you’ve been running from her memories and the feelings she’d made you feel. You were clueless about what you and Wanda were - are. 

Suddenly, you felt a body colliding with yours and it took you a second to understand what was happening and you closed your arms around her. And, once more, it felt as though you had been locked out of heaven.  

The woman roamed her hands all over your body, your hair, assessing every single part to make sure you weren’t hurt. To make sure you were in one piece. When satisfied she rested it on both sides of your cheeks. Holding you in place. Eyes set on yours, centimeters away. 

“By the gods, please, don’t tell me you believe in him.” Her voice sounded strangled, as if trying to keep herself composed was a strenuous effort. 

“He was pretty convincing.” You replied without missing a beat. How could you think, when breathing her breath was so intoxicating? You were incapable of speaking something more elaborated and you knew she’d be upset with your answer, but Vision pulled quite the number. 

For a second, she said nothing. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on yours, letting her hands fall to your shoulder as yours instinctively found her waist. As if they belonged there, as if they have never left at all. 

When she opened her eyes, it was perfectly clear how sad she was. “I can’t even begin to imagine what he put you through.” They were so genuine that your heart clenched. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” She whispered the last part and it was hard for you not to kiss her right then and there. 

But you were a queen now and this was not your castle. You couldn’t just do whatever your heart desires. With a chaste kiss on her forehead, you disentangled yourself from her embrace and walked towards the limping form of King Pietro, only to realize Wanda had taken your hand on hers to hold as you walked. 

“Lioness, I apologize for everything Vision did and I condoned.” The man was weak, very different from the one you met in his dungeons. But he was still as regal as someone of his position should be. “I know it can’t be erased, but your presence will be appreciated during his trials.” 

Taking your nod as the only answer he’d receive, he turned to the crowd standing awkwardly in the hall, most of them without a single clue as to what had just transpired. Raising his voice, he said. “Now, I understand that there’s a feast to be served and I see no reason for us to starve.” Then, he turned to a maiden in sokovian’s colors and ordered. “Take half to the city and bring the rest for us, there’s an army to feed.” 

– – – 

You looked up to the sky and tried to spot any cloud but there was none. It was so impressive, because you swore you have never seen this shade of blue, it was as if the sky had been painted. 

Wanda had told you that this was a rare occurrence during winter, but it was a welcome change to the permanent gray, common for the colder season. Also, she said that if the blue showed up more than once in a week, then it meant that spring was slowly lurching towards Sokovia. 

It was the second time you were mesmerized by this impressive color and beauty. Surely spring was on its way. 

Ironic, you thought. 

‘I’ve learned to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring’. You felt as if you could hear your mother speaking these exact words to you. You felt as if you were a whole new person and somehow, these words made more sense now than ever. 

It had been a rough winter. Metaphorical and not. The weather proved to be a ruthless enemy, without mercy, it wiped the crops, farms and you thanked the gods for the crown’s reserve, so there was food enough to aid the whole kingdom. 

And, as a matter of speaking, your winter was just as hard. Funny to think you used to complain about all the training and study you had received when younger, because right now, you felt as though you should have been pushed harder. 

Mastering all weapons, learning numbers and languages, geography and geopolitics, religion and history, nothing really gave you the mere idea of how to bear the weight of a crown. The younger lioness couldn’t even grasp the importance or the challenges a ruler would experience. 

Granted, as the days passed by, you understood what you should do and knew what variables you were supposed to think of before making a decision. But nothing, and you do mean nothing, prepared you to understand that there is no right move. 

People will get hurt, people will suffer. No matter what you choose, there will always be consequences. The trick is to look for the lesser of two evils and accept what you can’t change. It was this trick that you struggled the most, though. 

It was ironic, indeed, how much you have grown after your trim. After your mother’s death, Loki’s betrayal and even Wanda’s, even though it was just another ruse, you had felt that, mourned that love, after all of these cuts and trims, you didn’t even know you could endure this much. 

Life took so much from you, yet, here you were. Still standing. 

Persevering. 

Just another irony, if someone asked you, because that's what Pietro had said to you earlier in the meeting: ‘Spring is life persevering after a long winter.’ And you agreed. 

Your philosophical moment was cut short with the arrival of no one other than Wanda. Her perfume announced her presence seconds before her hands found your back as she slid them until she was hugging you from behind. You snacked your arms around hers and closed your eyes for a moment, savoring her warmth, her scent, her company. 

Right after the wedding-stopping thing, you learnt that Wanda basically became your shadow. Wherever you went, she was probably following not far behind. Unconsciously, she was probably scared of losing you again if she let you out of her sight. 

And there was a shift in your relationship after the very much needed, long and exhaustive conversation about everything that transpired since that morning she left you in that house. Your point of view and hers. 

It was hard. She had cried and you had cried, it was obvious that she was blaming herself for basically everything you had suffered. It was unfair for her to think like this, but she was adamant. And you knew, deep down, she was sad you had doubted her. 

However, there was nothing that could be done on that matter. It was in the past. 

With a kiss on your cheek, she let go of your waist and stepped to the side so she could take a look at you. Basking in the sun like this, she felt as though you were an angel sent from above. 

You and your army saved her kingdom from certain doom. Funny, though, for Wanda never saw herself as a damsel in distress kind of princess, but her own and her people’s freedom was a gift, delivered by your hands. 

“Pietro said you wanted to talk to me?” She started, tilting her head to the side in evident curiosity. When you left her this morning after breakfast because you had a meeting with her brother, she was quite surprised. Not that you two didn’t bode well, but because she wasn’t invited. 

In fact, she was told to not interrupt. 

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” You said, turning your body so now you were facing her, the balcony serving as a body support. “I was wondering if you’d take me on that horse ride to see the waterfalls?” 

She smiled softly, her curious self giving way to the old Wanda who wouldn’t stop talking about the amazing waterfalls close to the castle. She thought about how endering you were right now, asking for her to fulfill a promise she never imagined would really become true. 

“Say no more.” She grabbed your hand and fled the room. Not long till you were each on a horseback, riding to one of her favorite places in the world. 

The ride to Ms Marvel waterfall was barely an hour long, but perpassing through fields, trees and the most beautiful sightseeing rivers. It was so pretty, so particular, that you felt as though you were walking inside Wanda’s memories, for she had described this place over and over. 

The moment you set foot on your destination, you realized how thoroughly Wanda had been when speaking about this place. Every single pebble, rock, grass and the magnificent waterfall was just as she painted with words. 

It was beautiful and magical. 

Despite the weather, you shed your clothes and jumped into the cristaline water, followed suit by the princess. The redhead, however, was far more used to the cold waters than you were, but you always liked cold baths. 

This one felt as though you were being cleansed. It was welcoming. 

As Wanda swum towards you, it was easy to see a soft smile gracing her lips and a predatory look on her eyes. Hair slick back due the water, some droplets covering her face and you wondered if she wasn’t a siren, trying to lure into unknown waters, to your demise. 

Somehow, her body was warm even though you were both chin deep into the waters and her embrace was something that you couldn’t find words to describe. And seeing this new side of her, so carefree, and not preoccupied with everything, made your heart soar in your chest. 

Surely, your relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was plain to see that, right now, there were no worries about who could find out. You were not the enemy anymore, there was no war and there was no one targeting you. 

For Wanda, this was almost living her fairy tale dreams, right after emerging from her worst nightmares. First, she had lost you. She was a wreck after she realized she had not been as careful as she thought she was. 

It was no mystery to her who had taken you but much to her dismay, Vision had convinced Pietro that you were secretly invading Wolfgang, taking advantage of her innocence to demoralize his image and power. 

Wanda tried to explain to her brother, but to no avail for his mind was impregnated with lies and deceit. She tried to make Pietro understand that she loved you and though you had never used words, she pretty much knew you also had strong feelings for her, and you were definitely not using her as the Advisor had informed the king. 

It was all part of the plan. It was a mess. However, the final strike was yet his boldest. Vision pledged Wanda was impure and no one would want her as wife, but he could take this burden for the sake of their friendship. 

The nerve. 

Curious enough, things got worse when Pietro started to believe her. One day, he showed up at her door and was utterly embarrassed for not believing her, he then explained to her that he had talked to you and there were no reasons for him to think you were lying. 

Wanda’s heart broke all over, for she could only imagine how bad it must have been in the dungeons with the care of the likes of Vision and his loyalists. She was scared, she was hurt and she was desperate to set you free. 

She schemed a plan with Natasha and Clint for you to escape, but her brother fell ill, probably poisoned by Vision even though they could not prove it, and they became hostages too. On their own castle. Each of them had a sword on their throats, each of them were ready to lose everything in order to keep the other safe. 

Among all the other things, Wanda would lose the love of her life. 

“I know I never said this to you.” Your voice brought her head out of her reverie. It was even and melodic, she found herself smiling. “And I think this is so silly now, trying to mask my feelings.” She felt, more than heard you chuckling, even under the water, your whole body shook. “I love you, Wanda.” 

Her head snapped backwards so she could have a better look at your face. After all the time you spent together, she came to decipher whether you were mocking or not, yet, this voice, this tone was different. It was new altogether. 

You were older, wiser and sadlier too, she realized, you were not the Young Lioness anymore.  

“I mean it.” You finished, trying to convince her that you were not messing around. 

Realizing her lack of answer might have led you to believe she was searching your eyes for a lie, she shook her head and smiled softly. “I know.” She did believe you. She really knew, she really felt. 

You have told her, just not with words. 

You couldn’t help but lean in and capture her lips with yours. When Wanda was about to deepen the kiss, you pulled back and looked down in time to see a small pout and you smiled softly at her attitude. 

“There’s something else I want to talk to you about.” You ran your hand down her cheek, mesmerized with the perfection glued to your body. “Did Pietro say his plans for his future to you?” 

Despite the intimate moment, or position, Wanda felt a slight shift in your stance and certainly the topic of the conversation. Seconds ago you were talking about feelings and now you returned to politics. 

She didn’t not know what exactly you were talking about. Or what you really wanted to. But this question was just a preamble, that much she was certain. 

“That he desires to step down from the throne to look for treatment and healing?” She asked, head tilting to the side and she was so adorable wearing that confused look of hers that your heart skipped a beat. 

You only nodded and she asked. “Why?” 

For hours, you had been trying to think of the best form to ask her. Being blunt, straightforward as usual or perhaps with a romantic flourish, but in the end, anxiety took the best of you and you were not sure of how to do it. 

There were two Wandas. The one you were in love with, the simple woman with a heart, you usually knew what she’d do or say. But then, there was the feisty and strong princess, who will always think about her duty to her people before anything else. Even her own heart. 

And that woman? She could virtually say or do anything, she was indomable and you were irrevocably devoted to her.  

“I was thinking about what we always said…” You mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid and not knowing the right words. To be honest, you were afraid of her reply or even her decision. “About a time or place where we could simply be, where we’d have a choice.” 

A quirk of brow told you she did not understand what your words meant and you sighed heavily. Deciding to take the bandage off, you shot. “Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?” 

She opened her mouth, but then the words hit her and you saw her eyes grasping their meaning as it sank in what you were asking. What you were really asking her. What you were really asking of her.

“How?” She asked, doubt written all over her face. 

For sure, you had hoped for an easy ‘yes’ even though you already knew it wouldn’t come. However, a how it was far better than a no.

A smart comeback made its way to your tongue, but you swallowed it down just as fast. “If you’ll step up as the new queen of Sokovia, why wouldn’t you as Novi Grad’s?” 

Her jaw dropped a few inches at your proposal and everything that would surely entail, regaining her composure after her stupor, she fired back. “Is this political?” 

She tried to disguise the hurt perpassing her being. She wanted you, but were you suggesting just a political maneuver?

“No.” You were quick to clarify. “I want to marry you because of what I feel for you. But I understand that this is not simple. Between the two of us, we can’t take one thing without the other.” 

For several seconds she looked at you and said nothing. Her eyes scrutinized every freckle, every inch of your face and eyes. You were so beautiful and she hated how much she loved you, how desperate she was for your touch. 

The possibility laid upon her was far too tempting. She was aware of her needs and duty and for a long time she wished she could split her heart from her responsibilities, but right then and there, this was her chance, your chance to finally combine both. 

It wouldn’t be needed to sever one thing from another, the both of you could take your place as required without breaking your hearts in the process. 

“Are you sure?” You were not convinced of what she was really asking. What should you be certain about? Your love, your offer or everything in between? 

“I’m sure of what I feel for you.” You replied and her eyes, once lost, finally focused on yours. A soft snort told you that this was not of her concern. Good. 

“I know, darling. I love you too, you know this already.” Her smile was soft but not more than her words. “I was just… Do you think we can reunite the realm?” She asked more directly this time and you understood her fears. 

The Golden Accords existed for a long time and there would be resistance, there would be fear, but there would also be reunion, there would be peace. And that was the very thread you were holding on. 

“In my humble opinion? You and I together can do anything.” Certainty coated every single word rolling out of your mouth and that made Wanda’s smile go wider. She always loved - after she had hated - your confidence. 

– – – 

If you squinted, her dress looked like a waterfall, cascading down her back, feet and beyond and Wanda, once more in full white, looked like a fallen angel. Her eyes, her smile… everything in her glowed brighter than a star. She was perfect. 

After your vows, Pietro took your hand and Wanda’s and laced it with a red piece of satin. It represented your bloods, your souls intertwining themselves, tying the eternal knot between your lives. 

Her smile was broad and you were certain it shone for miles, when Pietro spoke the last sentences of the ceremony. “I now present you the Queen of Taharr and Queen of Sokovia. All rise to the Queens of the Great Realm of Novi Grad.” 

The crowd was loud to the point you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts and you swore the earth shook when you leaned in and Wanda sealed your promise with a kiss. 

The promise of union, the promise of peace, prosperity and love. 

After all, you were the Queens of Promise.

taglist: @californianwhiterabbit, @cowxpoke

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x fem!reader #angst #princess wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #medieval au #queens of promise #wanda maximov #princess reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x female reader #wanda x fem #wanda maximoff x fem! reader

[theladyregret]

Drow Name Tables

Something I did as a special favor to @kimmurielsscryingmirror (@eldritchmist ) who showed interest. Because it’s...pretty big I decided to make it into it’s own post.

These are a few Drow naming tables that were originally found in an issue of Dragon Magazine. It’s two d100 tables of prefixes and suffixes commonly used in first names. The second couple of tables is a list of common house name prefixes and suffixes.

EDIT: Just a little something for those who care which I didn’t add before because it took me so long to finish the transcription I just wanted to post it lol. The gender difference is noted in the related Dragon Magazine article as being significant. Non Drow may not notice but a Drow will notice the difference. Female names sometimes borrow parts that are normally only considered male and this is considered fine...but a male with a name that borrows a typically only female part would be seen as extremely taboo.

Prefix (Female/Male) - Meaning

Akor/Alak                 beloved, best, first

Alaun/Alton             lightning, powerful

Aly/Kel                     legendary, singing, song

Ang/Adin                  beast, monstrous, savage

Ardul/Amal               blessed, divine, godly

Aun/Ant                   crypt, dead, deadly, death

Bae/Bar                      fate, fated, luck, lucky

Bal/Bel                       burned, burning, fire, flame

Belar/Bruh                 arrow, lance, piercing

Briz/Berg                    graceful, fluid, like water

Bur/Bhin                     craft, crafty, sly

Chal/Chasz                earth, stable

Char/Kron                  sick, venom, venomed

Chess/Cal                  noble, lady/lord

Dhaun                          infested, plague

Dil/Dur                         cold, ice, still

Dirz/Div                       dream, dreaming, fantasy

Dris/Riz                        ash, dawn, east, eastern

Eclav/Elk                      chaos, mad, madness

Elvan/Kalan                 elf, elven, far, lost

Elv/Elaug                     drow, mage, power

Erel/Rhyl                      eye, moon, spy

Ethe/Erth                    mithril, resolute

Faer/Selds                   oath, sworn, vow

Felyn/Fil                       pale, thin, weak, white

Filf/Phar                     dwarf, dwarven, treacherous

Gauss/Orgoll              dread, fear, feared, vile

G'eld                              friend, spider  

Ghuan                           accursed, curse, unlucky

Gin/Din                         berserk, berserker, orc, wild

Grey/Gul                       ghost, pale, unliving

Hael/Hatch                   marked, trail, way

Hal/Sol                           deft, nimble, spider-like  

Houn/Rik                       magic, ring, staff

Iiv/Dip                             liege, war, warrior

Iim                                   life, living, spirit, soul

Illiam/Im                         devoted, heart, love

In/Sorn                           enchanted, spell

Ilph                                  emerald, green, lush, tree

Irae/Ilzt                           arcane, mystic, wizard

Irr/Izz                               hidden, mask, masked

Iym/Ist                            endless, immortal  

Jan/Duag                       shield, warded

Jhael/Gel                       ambitious, clan, kin, family

Jhul/Jar                         charmed, rune, symbol

Jys/Driz                         hard, steel, unyielding

Lael/Llt                           iron, west, western

Lar/Les                          binding, bound, law, lawful

LiNeer/Mourn            legend, legendary, mythical  

Lird/Ryld                   brand, branded, owned, slave

Lua/Lyme                       bright, crystal, light

Mal/Malag                     mystery, secret

May/Mas                         beautiful, beauty, silver

Micar                                lost, poison, widow

Min/Ran                           lesser, minor, second

Mol/Go                            blue, storm, thunder, wind

Myr/Nym                       lost, skeleton, skull

Nath/Mer                        doom, doomed, fate

Ned/Nad               cunning, genius, mind, thought

Nhil/Nal                 fear, gorrible, horror, outraged

Neer                                  core, root, strong

Null/Nil                             sad, tear, weeping

Olor/Omar                       skin, tattoo, tattooed

Pellan/Relon                    north, platiunum, wind

Phaer/Vorn                      honor, honored

Phyr/Phyx                        bless, blessed, blessing

Qualn/Quil                        mighty, ocean, sea

Quar                                   aged, eternal, time

Quav/Quev                        charmed, docile, friend

Qil/Quil                               foe, goblin, slave

Rauv/Welv                         cave, rock, stone

Ril/Ryl                                 foretold, omen

Sbat/Szor                           amber, yellow

Sab/Tsab                            abyss, empty, void  

Shi'n/Kren                          fool, foolish, young

Shri/Ssz                             silk, silent  

Shur/Shar                          dagger, edge, stiletto

Shynt                                 invisible, skilled, unseen

Sin/Szin                              festival, joy, pleasure

Ssap/Tath                          blue, midnight, night

Susp/Spir                           learned, skilled, wise

Talab/Tluth                        burn, burning, fire

Tal/Tar                         love, pain, wound, wounded

Triel/Taz                           bat, winged

T'riss/Teb                           blade, sharp, sword  

Ulvir/Uhls                           gold, golden, treasure

Umrae/Hurz                       faith, faithful, true

Vas/Vesz                            blood, bloody, flesh

Vic                                       abyss, deep, profound

Vier/Val                               black, dark, darkness

Vlon/Wod                           bold, hero, heroic

Waer/Wehl             deep, hidden, south, southern  

Wuyon/Wruz                      humble, third, trivial

Xull/Url                                 blooded, crimson, ruby

Xun                                       demon, fiend, fiendish

Yas/Yaz                       riddle, spinning, thread, web

Zar/Zakn                             dusk, haunted, shadow

Zebey/Zek                        dragon, lithe, rage, wyrm

Zes/Zsz                              ancient, elder, respected

Zilv/Vuz                             forgotten, old, unknown

Suffixes (Female/Male) - Meaning

a/agh                  breaker, destruction, end, omega

ace/as                                savant, scholar, wizard

ae/aun                             dance, dancer, life, player

aer/d                                    blood, blood of, heir

afae/afein                         bane, executioner, slayer

afay/aufein                        eyes, eyes of, seer

ala/launim                          healer, cleric

anna/erin                            advisor, counselor to

arra/atar                             queen/prince

aste                                      bearer, keeper, slaver

avin/aonar                           guardian, guard, shield

ayne/al                       lunatic, maniac, manic, rage

baste/gloth                         path, walker

breena/antar                   matriach/patriarch, ruler

bryn/lyn                               agent, assassin, killer

cice/roos                             born of, child, young  

cyrl/axle                               ally, companion, friend

da/daer                                illusionist, trickster

dia/drin                                rogue, stealer

diira/diirn                             initiate, sister/brother

dra/zar                                  lover, match, mate  

driira/driirn                         mother/father, teacher  

dril/dorl                                 knight, sword, warrior

e                                           servant, slave, vessel

eari/erd                                 giver, god, patron

eyl                                       archer, arrow, flight, flyer

ffyn/fein                               minstrel, singer, song

fryn              champion, victor, weapon, weapon of

iara/ica                                 baron, duke, lady/lord  

ice/eth                                 obsession, taker, taken  

idil/imar           alpha, beginning, creator of, maker

iira/inid                                 harbinger, herald

inidia                                     secret, wall, warder

inil/in                                     lady/lord, rider, steed

intra                               envoy, messenger, prophet

isstra/atlab               acolyte, apprentice, student

ithra/irahc                         dragon, serpent, wyrm

jra/gos                                 beast, biter, stinger

jss                                          scout, stalker

kacha/kah                            beauty, hair, style

kiira/raen                              apostle, disciple

lay/dyn                               flight, flyer, wing, wings

lara/aghar                         cynic, death, end, victim

lin                                         arm, armor, commander

lochar                                   messenger, spider

mice/myr           bone, bones, necromancer, witch  

mur'ss                                   shadow, spy, witness

na/nar                                 adept, ghost, spirit

nilee/olil                             corpse, disease, ravager

niss/nozz                           chance, gambler, game

nitra/net                              kicker, returned, risen

nolu                                 art, artist, expert, treasure

olin                                   ascension, love, lover, lust

onia/onim                           rod, staff, token, wand

oyss/omph                       binder, judge, law, prison

qualyn                                 ally, caller, kin

quarra/net                           horde, host, legion

quiri/oj                                  aura, cloak, hide, skin

ra/or                                     fool, game, prey, quarry

rae/rar                                   secret, seeker, quest

raema/orvir                         crafter, fist, hand

raena/olvir                            center, haven, home

riia/rak                       enchanter, mage, spellcaster

ril                                 bandit, enemy, raider, outlaw

riina/ree                     enchanter, mage, spellcaster

ryna/oyn                         follower, hired, mercenary

ryne/ryn                      blooded, elder, experienced

shalee/ral                 abjurer, gaze, watch, watcher

ssysn/rysn          artifact, dweomer, sorcerer, spell

stin/trin         clan, house, merchant, of the house

stra/tran                             spider, spinner, weaver

tana/ton                           darkness, lurker, prowler

thara/tar                             glyph, marker, rune

thrae/olg                          charmer, leader, seducer

tree/tel                         exile, loner, outcast, pariah

tyrr                    dagger, poison, poisoner, scorpion

ual/dan                                speed, strider

ue/dor                                  arm, artisan, fingers

uit/dar                                  breath, voice, word

une/diin                         diviner, fate, future, oracle

uque                              cavern, digger, mole, tunnel  

urra/dax                       nomad, renegade, wanderer

va/ven                             comrade, honor, honored

vayas                         forge, forger, hammer, smith

vyll punishment, scourge, whip, zealot  

vyrae/vyr                     mistress/master, overseer

wae/hrae                           heir, inheritor, princess

wiira/hriir                           seneschal of, steward

wyss/hrys                          best, creator, starter

xae/zaer                             orb, rank, ruler, sceptor

xena/zen                         cutter, gem, jewel, jeweler

xyra/zyr                             sage, teller

yl                                          drow, woman/man

ylene/yln         handmaiden/squire, maiden/youth

ymma/inyon                      drider, feet, foot, runner

ynda/yrd        captain, custodian, marshal, ranger  

ynrae/yraen                       heretic, rebel, riot, void

vrae                                   architect, founder, mason  

yrr                                         protector, rival, wielder

zyne/zt                                finder, hunter

House Name Prefixes - Meaning

Alean                        the noble line of

Ale                             traders in

Arab                          daughters of

Arken                        mages of

Auvry                        blood of the  

Baen                          blessed by

Barri                           spawn of

Cladd                         warriors from

Desp                          victors of

De                               champions of

Do'                              walkers in

Eils                              lands of

Everh                         the caverns of

Fre                              friends of

Gode                          clan of  

Helvi                          those above

Hla                              seers of

Hun'                           the sisterhood of

Ken                            sworn to

Kil                               people of

Mae                           raiders from  

Mel                            mothers of

My                              honored of

Noqu                         sacred to

Orly                            guild of

Ouss                           heirs to

Rilyn                           house of  

Teken'                        delvers in  

Tor                               mistresses of

Zau                              children of

House Name Suffixes - Meaning

afin                              the web

ana                               the night

ani                                the widow

ar                                   poison

arn                                fire

ate                                the way

ath                                the dragons

duis                              the whip

ervs                              the depths

ep                                  the underdark

ett                                 magic

ghym                            the forgotten ways

iryn                               history

lyl                                  the blade

mtor                             the abyss

ndar                              black hearts

neld                              the arcane

rae                                 fell powers

rahel                             the gods

rret                                the void

sek                                 adamantite

th                                    challenges

tlar                                 mysteries

t'tar                                victory

tyl                                   the pits

und                                 the spider's kiss

urden           ��                 the darkness

val                                   silken weaver

viir                                  dominance

zynge                             the ruins

#Dungeons and Dragons #Drow #The Legend of Drizzt #dnd #dark elves

[artemis-potnia-theron]

How I perceive different deities' energies: (pt. 2)

(based on personal experiences)

Bast 🐈‍⬛: Velvet. Roses. Incense. Aloe vera. Coconut milk. An enchanted vapor that fills the room like a fog, and suddenly its like I've known you for centuries. Light footsteps against wood floor. The humid steam of a sauna. Hot rocks against skin. An abundance of flowers; bouquets from the soul. Black mirrors and purple cystals.

Skadi 🗻: Breathing in winter air. Sharp and crisp within my lungs. Goose bumps. Cloud puffs of breath on a frigid morning. Wolves calling to each other. Dandelions. The whirl of an arrow loosed from its bow. Freshly fallen snow. Thick boots. Leather.

Fenrir 🐺: Righteous fury. Red behind the eyes. A pounding in my chest. An ancient drumb beat. Raw, red meat. Satiated hunger. An ache in my legs like I've been sprinting for a lifetime. Bone shards. The rage of the wronged. A long-fought battle. Bittersweet victory.

Freyja 🏵: My aunt's house. Plush fabric. A banquet. Cherry wine. Waves of gold. A concealed dagger. Calla lilies. Tough love and long embraces. Embroidered silk tapestries. A jewel encrusted mirror. Rosemary. Sun-catchers. Lace.

Kybele 🦁: Mountain mist. Echoing laughter. A voice that sings from somewhere just over the horizon. Dawn breaking. Roasted meat. Whiskey. Frenized dance at dusk. Breathing hard, almost panting. A sting. A balm. Cornflower. Daisies. Queen Anne's lace.

Inanna 🌟: A blue, purple light somewhere in the night. The brightest star in the sky. A river that flows between her and I and you and waves of souls that came before us. A beckoning song and a voice that comes from the heavens. An rare orchid.

Demeter 🌾: Divine rage and divine love. Wind through fields of wheat. Sun-dried tomatoes. Corn boiling in the pot. Hot summer wind. Dried grass. Being carried to my room as a child while I fell asleep. A sweet ache. A mother's touch. Trust, and a torrent of fury when that trust is broken.

Ereshkigal 🦉: Damp earth. Echoes. Owl talons. Quiet as a tomb and breathless whispers. A fluttering of wings in pitch black. Something dancing at the corner of my eye. Strength. Peace. Sterness. Beauty like the cosmos. She demands respect from every tounge.

Persephone 🥀: A funeral shroud. Bioluminescent fungi. Sweet, overripe fruit. Flowers growing from a corpse. Bones in bird nests. A hand clasping mine in the night. The smell of rain. Learning to live with my grief. A fate I no longer run from.

Cailleach Bheur ❄️: Fennel tea. Blizzard air. A lit cabin hearth while the storm rages outside. An heirloom quilt over my shoulders. Quiet. Contemplative. Resolutely austere. She knows all the answers, but she will have her silence. Burning coals. Shepherd's pie. Baked nuts. Glowing silver.

#bast #bastet #freya #freyja #skadi #cailleach #cailleach deity #persephone #proserpina #demeter #ceres #inanna #ereshkigal #fenrir #fenris #kybele #cybele #hellenic paganism #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #hellenic gods #hellenic pantheon #hellenic polytheist #norse paganism #celtic paganism #kemetic paganism #mesopotamian gods #norse polytheism #celtic polytheism

[lady-rosie]

Navena Dren

Navena Dren was exploring the local Ayleid ruin named Wendir while performing a yearly ritual of ridding it of the Undead. With various magic spells she would turn them away, quickly crack the bones of skeletons and slice the heads off of zombies. She would then try to dispel whatever enchantments brought them back, and then leave. This time however, she decided to delve deeper. At first she was fueled by a need to escape the drama and discrimination of the world above, and she found that escape. She’s killed the undead so many times over the years, it came easily, and as she went deeper it was almost meditative. Like a way to release pent up frustration while actually doing something good! Deeper she went until she turned a corner, and realized she’s never seen this area before. With the immediate judgemental and reactive mind of an inquisitor in training, she turned back around to figure out where this was, and realized with a complete blow to her confidence, that nothing looked familiar. She hacked at some more undead, but it was no longer meditative.

Navena ran around, trying to find her place. The smooth stone surfaces and calm blue lights slowly turned into oppressive gated rooms and dark corners where she’d falsely see watching eyes. She pulled out her compass and her maps, kept the undead at bay, and tried to figure out the way back, but it was impossible. Then the floor went loose beneath her, dropping her down to a floor she never even knew existed. When the dust stopped making her cough, she looked up to see a dimly lit room around her, with a slightly ajar gate on the other end from her, and beyond it another room with a shining golden helmet. It captivated her for a moment, until she heard the creaks of bones and growls of zombies. She could barely stand up before a zombie tried grabbing her. With her dagger she started slicing and with her blabbering yet practiced mouth she started repeating her spells to turn them all, and it was barely enough. Arrows were shot and narrowly missed, and skeletons with blades cut through her armor. She fended them off all the way to the room, where she slammed the gate closed, and barred them with nearby bricks. But that wasn’t enough for her. Before she could rest she started casting her blessings at the undead on the other side of the gate to turn them away. When they finally seemed to be distracted, she heard a sheath behind her, and following her training she quickly turned and tried to conjure a shield, but it was too late. A sword from a regal skeleton sweeped at her face and sliced across it. She fell to the floor, and the skeleton haunted out some ancient words. Foolishly, she hadn’t thought there would be another undead in the room. As the skeleton stomped over and readied to execute her, Navena reached for a scroll she used for the most dire circumstances. She read the memorized scroll aloud right before the skeleton stabbed, and an explosion of sunlight came from her words blowing it’s bones away, shattering them against the walls, and leaving it to nothing but dust and withered robes.

After all was done, Navena was left there wheezing on the floor. The scroll slowly burned away in her hands, and she started to feel the blood from her face wound reach her eyes and enter her mouth, which caused her to jerk up, now gasping and wheezing with a smile on her face. She survived. She made it. Navena started laughing, and almost cackling, despite the taste of iron in her mouth. She just had an adventure! When she was done, and still recovering her breath, she propped herself on the wall, and started warming up her healing hands. She started feeling dizzy, and knew she needed to get herself patched up. She put her hands to her arms and started slowing down the swelling scratches. She put her hands to her.. head and started sealing up the cut. There wasn’t much she could do about armor, but the undead were nothing but predictable, and she’s raided Wendir before in nothing but clothes. Then she put her hands back to her.. head again. As much as she hated seeing it, she reached into her bag, and pulled out a mirror. “Does it look bad?” Navena asked Navena, and Navena looked back with her uneasy and hideous face, now covered with dirt and stained with blood, and stained with the ugliest scar slashed across it with a noticeable nick in her nose. And her hands grew weak as memories came back. Lopsided, crooked, snarled, monstrous, and now it’s even worse. She drops the pocket mirror and its clink asks what a passerby would think now? What would people above her think? That she’s crazy? That she’s even more undesirable? “It never looked that great anyways.” She reassured herself.”You’ve always had to fight for respect anyways. How different is this now?” She scrunched her face and tears started forming. “People always found it hard to respect me, maybe now they’ll.. Fear me more?” Her underbite bit at the pain, and she started cursing as all the frustrations of the world above started crashing down on her. Through repressed breaths she shakily mouths out the words “Why the.. fuck am I even.. thinking about such shallow.. things as.. looks… Who cares what others think? That doesn’t matter..” She lied. She’s known all her life that it absolutely does matter what others think but that scar on her crying face made her beg. As her wet eyes catch another glimpse of that glorious helmet, she remembers where she was. “I’ll.. I’ll hide my face. I’m going to hide it for now. I’ll.. I’ll make it back to the Weynon Priory and show Jaufre.. He’s always been understanding. He might know what to do.” Navena shakily stands up, and coughs. Her wounds might be greater than she thought, but she stumbles forward. She needs this comfort more than she needs medical help. Her mind screams hatred at herself as she touches the surface of the golden helmet, and it feels enchanting.. She might even wear it all the time. Maybe hide in it forever, her alter ego jested. Its sides have two huge horn-like structures that seemed to come out of the neck of the helmet, and the two horns went up the sides. It seemed like a Daedric and Dwemer construction, in an Ayleid ruin.. She keeps repressing her mind that tries to put herself down about how It’d be a shame to be worn by her. But the shape of the top of the helmet was like a cone, almost silly, and made it feel amazing. She picked it up, and put it over her head, and it fit snugly, and finally quieted her thoughts.

And then with a deafening metal slam she felt the two horn-like structures on the side of the helmet fall to her shoulders, and lock tightly around her neck. 

#elder scrolls #fanfic #worldbuilding #pixel art #pixelart #marigolds art #art #the elder scrolls #oc #original character #dunmer #dark elf #writing

[glowsticks-soda-and-magic]

Introduction

DISASTER BI

Name: Cassidy Raven

Gender & Pronous: Non binary, He/They

Sexuality: Bi

Godly parent: Dionysus

Mortal parent: Alice Raven

Mythology (Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Norse): Greek

Faceclaim: Finn Wolfhard

Weapon of Choice: Set of enchanted daggers (They return to you after being thrown, sort of like Thor's hammer)

TA or gods: Gods

Fatal flaw: Loyalty

DnD alignment: Chaotic good

GLOWSTICK JR

Name: Aiden Hawthorne

Gender: Male, He/Him

Sexuality: Gay

Godly parent: Apollo (Legacy of Loki)

Mortal parent: Rhys Hawthorne

Mythology: Roman, Norse

Faceclaim: Thomas Brodie-Sangster

Weapon of choice: Bow & Arrow

TA or gods: Gods

Fatal flaw: Wrath

DnD alignment: Chaotic good

CASPERA THE NOT SO FRIENDLY GHOST

Name: Claire Lewis

Gender: Female, she/her

Sexuality: Pan

Godly parent: Hecate

Mortal parent: Eric Lewis

Mythology: Greek

Faceclaim: Kiernan Shipka

Weapon of choice: Sword

TA or Gods: TA

Fatal flaw: Doesn't matter, she's dead -Cassidy.

Fuck you -Claire

(I haven't decided -OOC)

DnD alignment: Chaotic neutral

OOC (The person behind the screen)

Name: Wraith

Gender: Female (She/Her but I'm okay with the use of any pronouns)

Sexuality: Straight

Godly parent: Hades

Fatal flaw: Procrastination probably

DnD alignment: No idea, I'll do a quiz or something when I'm not feeling lazy

#percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #riordanverse #pjo #ocs #child of dionysus #child of apollo #Daughter of Hecate

[fireolin]

The Wishing Hunt 𝕏𝕏 Ch 24 𝕏𝕏

𝕏 24 𝕏  Sacrifice (Read on Ao3)

This chapter: Killua's freedom and that of everyone the talisman has enchanted hang upon Gon's actions.

Gon sheathed his daggers and took up the bow, praying to whatever gods might inhabit the nearby temple that Marigold would remain unconscious at his feet and that grief would continue to blind Killua to any threat he posed from the hall. As he nocked an arrow, he noted the satisfied edge to the lycan’s snarls, as though she took pleasure in Killua’s sobs... Read on

Rating: E (mostly M) Hunter x Hunter fic, Fae Au Killugon, where your votes help direct the story.

About: The fae realm of Aiai is full of romantic dangers as fae seek to lure humans. As they travel on their own quests, ex-assassin fae Killua and Prince Gon embark on a fake relationship to help keep them safe from fae advances. Neither are looking for love, but the biggest romantic challenge for them both turns out to be each other and the terrain of their own past. Chapter 1 on Ao3

#killugon #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #hxh fic #the wishing hunt #my fic #a short chapter with the next to be published next week #hope you all enjoy it

[tfseeds]

Dungeon AU Sketches

More recent sketches!

First off, we have Raris and Evi, Gaius's adventure companions! Raris fills the role of the party's 'thief,' able to disarm traps, open locks, and scout paths stealthily. He wields a pair of daggers in combat, preferring to wait in ambush for the opportunity to hit an enemy's weak point. He's also Evi's older brother, and is a much more serious, rational type.

Evi is a bit of a mixed-talents teammate. She uses a bow and arrows for combat, and has picked up some minor support magics to assist with healing in a pinch. Her major area of specialty is alchemy - using bits from the dungeon to craft poultices, remedies, and other tools to help their adventures. She's fascinated by the variety of beasts down there and often taking notes in a handbook during their rests.

Raris's affliction is thanks to a wooden splinter that lodes in his left hand and causes a wooden petrification to creep over his form. The struggle to sit or lie down when you can't move your arm, then your shoulder, then neck and more. But wait, there's more!

Meanwhile Evi's got got the essences of several animals insider her trying to exert their influence. Plus other run-ins with traps and enchantments.

And lastly, some sketch work working on Gaius's proportions and studying how he runs in his final form. I like working out his end form so I have a point to work from between human and wyvern. His run is largely based on big cats, with a flexible longer torso to allow his spine to 'spring' and lengthen his strides.

#transformation #transfur #tf #dragon #wyvern #dungeon au #wyvern gaius #raris #evi #evion art

[roadandruingame]

RAR Musings #12: Weapon Specials

Since I mentioned them in Musings 11, I wanted to touch on weapon effects.

Since the beginning, I wanted RAR to have better choices when using different weapons for different reasons. DND has damage vulnerabilities and resistances, but for the most part, there's little you can do to actually change your playstyle WHILE fighting an enemy: you're unlikely to thrust your torch at enemies with a vulnerability to fire, and you're far less likely to purchase acid vials on the off chance you find an enemy vulnerable to acid. This puts combat versatility squarely in the hands of spellcasters, while martials Hit With The Sword Again, which often gets reduced down to whether the creature's physical resistances can be cut through with magic weapons, and whether your character has the proficiency to equip their magic weapon of choice.

Road and Ruin instead grants different strike styles to each weapon:

Piercing, or accuracy-based attacks with force applied in a straight line; rolling a d4

Slashing, or edged-based attacks, slicing or scraping with wide or prolonged surface contact; rolling a d8

Bashing, or contact-based attacks, where no particular care to accuracy is necessary; rolling a d12

Armor reduces the result of each die by the armor's value in that method of defense, though they are mostly equal, so it's much harder to stab through armor than it is to simply cave it in.

Solid Blows, or above half on the die, deal the full damage on the weapon's profile, while below half, or Glancing Blows, deal half damage, rounded down. A 1 and lower is a miss.

When rolling the die achieves a Solid Blow, a second die of the same is rolled, and the results totaled: for every 50% threshold above 100% the combined value achieves, a stage of Special is granted. For example, a Piercing attack gains special on a 6, 8, 10, 12 and so on. Different weapon types have different Special effects, though critical damage is the most common one.

Longbows achieving Special add +1 to their damage and roll again, until Special isn't achieved. This describes arrows cutting through armor and into helm gaps, sometimes finding lethal purchase, although rarely.

Poisoned or serrated daggers inflict their poison or bleeds on a Piercing or Slashing special after armor is calculated, while others increase the critical damage multiplier, or reduce the impact of armor as it finds gaps or cracks it open.

Medium-sized or Heavy weapons that land Bashing specials can damage armor or shatter shields. Strength can be added to Bashing special rolls, helping a landed hit follow through.

Chopping, or d10 attacks, can dismember and sever limbs.

Certain enchantments may activate on a weapon special, granting enhanced speed or power, or igniting the blade with fire.

Or; none of these things. Weapon Special is an optional system, for players who want more of a gear grind, or for their progression to be measured by the size and diversity of their arsenal. Monster-slaying adventures especially would benefit here, but for players who don't want the micromanagement, the system can safely be snipped out in favor of more narrative combats.

A question I still have is whether or not there should be more than one special per weapon, and whether they should both apply, or just one apply, and if the player should have the choice of which. More than one runs the risk of someone just, bathing a knife in two dozen different chemicals, and it's like. You could do that. I'm not sure what that does. I assume it's worse than just one, but I don't know if it's worse than a dozen, or better than three dozen.

Another aspect of weapons I'm proud of is a comprehensive system for determining how much damage is supposed to be on the weapon's baseline. This is through variables like Size, Shape, Weighting, and Material, but it essentially allows you to definitively quantify what a goblin shortspear actually is, and why as a human, there's not much value in looting it unless your own weapon has been damaged.

Speaking of: Improvised weapons. Like improvised materials in the newly revised skill check system, landing a blow (or, using the item) with an improvised or damaged item prompts a secondary roll, to see if the breakage extends, and whether the baseline damage drops. Given how arrows only have 1dmg in the first place, any amount of damage, or even firing them at all, is enough for them to call it quits, but it can mean extra ammo in an emergency.

Crafting of weapons, also mentioned in the revised skill check system, can also produce masterworks. This is sort of like improvised, except that there's an additional stat bonus in some way; bonus damage, or a resistance to breaking. Specialists can work at improving an item over time, with the right materials and hours, to slowly, but surely, craft a masterwork, but it might take them days, or weeks, or months, or years to finish one. Meanwhile, a legendary blacksmith might have a 1 in 2 shot of crafting a masterwork of a common item.

Another system involving weapons is Favor. I'm still juggling the name, since it overlaps with Favor from a godly or spiritual angle, but essentially, beyond proficiency with a weapon type, beyond specialization with a particular kind of weapon, there's favoring a single, individual item. Something about the way it holds, or it's shape, or that it belonged to your family, inspires you, and no other weapon is quite the same. Favor is a kind of gith system, a spellsword, where power comes not from the wielder, nor from the weapon, but from the union of the two. Favored weapons can gain special abilities that only trigger while in your hands, and they become a badge representing your renown in the region. You may brandish it to inspire fear in your enemies who know you, or keep it polished so that it's edge never rusts and it's shine never dulls. But basically, martials will have the option to pick and keep a specific weapon close, so that they aren't incentivized to hop around, but that being a tavern brawler who uses anything at hand is an equally valid playstyle.

#indie ttrpg #road and ruin #ttrpg #ttrpg design

[the-chronicle-of-holy-days]

Day 6

Liber Liberi vel Lapidis Lazuli Adumbratio Kabbalae Aegyptiorum sub figurâ VII

I

1. My God, how I love Thee!

2. With the vehement appetite of a beast I hunt Thee through the Universe.

3. Thou art standing as it were upon a pinnacle at the edge of some fortified city. I am a white bird, and perch upon Thee.

4. Thou art My Lover: I see Thee as a nymph with her white limbs stretched by the spring.

5. She lies upon the moss; there is none other but she:

6. Art Thou not Pan?

7. I am He. Speak not, O my God! Let the work be accomplished in silence.

8. Let my cry of pain be crystallized into a little white fawn to run away into the forest!

9. Thou art a centaur, O my God, from the violet-blossoms that crown Thee to the hoofs of the horse.

10. Thou art harder than tempered steel; there is no diamond beside Thee.

11. Did I not yield this body and soul?

12. I woo thee with a dagger drawn across my throat.

13. Let the spout of blood quench Thy blood-thirst, O my God!

14. Thou art a little white rabbit in the burrow Night.

15. I am greater than the fox and the hole.

16. Give me Thy kisses, O Lord God!

17. The lightning came and licked up the little flock of sheep.

18. There is a tongue and a flame; I see that trident walking over the sea.

19. A phœnix hath it for its head; below are two prongs. They spear the wicked.

20. I will spear Thee, O Thou little grey god, unless Thou beware!

21. From the grey to the gold; from the gold to that which is beyond the gold of Ophir.

22. My God! but I love Thee!

23. Why hast Thou whispered so ambiguous things? Wast Thou afraid, O goat-hoofed One, O horned One, O pillar of lightning?

24. From the lightning fall pearls; from the pearls black specks of nothing.

25. I based all on one, one on naught.

26. Afloat in the æther, O my God, my God!

27. O Thou great hooded sun of glory, cut off these eyelids!

28. Nature shall die out; she hideth me, closing mine eyelids with fear, she hideth me from My destruction, O Thou open eye.

29. O ever-weeping One!

30. Not Isis my mother, nor Osiris my self; but the incestuous Horus given over to Typhon, so may I be!

31. There thought; and thought is evil.

32. Pan! Pan! Io Pan! it is enough.

33. Fall not into death, O my soul! Think that death is the bed into which you are falling!

34. O how I love Thee, O my God! Especially is there a vehement parallel light from infinity, vilely diffracted in the haze of this mind.

35. I love Thee.

I love Thee.

I love Thee.

36. Thou art a beautiful thing whiter than a woman in the column of this vibration.

37. I shoot up vertically like an arrow, and become that Above.

38. But it is death, and the flame of the pyre.

39. Ascend in the flame of the pyre, O my soul! Thy God is like the cold emptiness of the utmost heaven, into which thou radiatest thy little light.

40. When Thou shall know me, O empty God, my flame shall utterly expire in Thy great N. O. X.

41. What shalt Thou be, my God, when I have ceased to love Thee?

42. A worm, a nothing, a niddering knave!

43. But Oh! I love Thee.

44. I have thrown a million flowers from the basket of the Beyond at Thy feet, I have anointed Thee and Thy Staff with oil and blood and kisses.

45. I have kindled Thy marble into life — ay! into death.

46. I have been smitten with the reek of Thy mouth, that drinketh never wine but life.

47. How the dew of the Universe whitens the lips!

48. Ah! trickling flow of the stars of the mother Supernal, begone!

49. I Am She that should come, the Virgin of all men.

50. I am a boy before Thee, O Thou satyr God.

51. Thou wilt inflict the punishment of pleasure — Now! Now! Now!

52. Io Pan! Io Pan! I love Thee. I love Thee.

53. O my God, spare me!

54. Now!

It is done! Death.

55. I cried aloud the word — and it was a mighty spell to bind the Invisible, an enchantment to unbind the bound; yea, to unbind the bound

Years favorite is in bold

Wow this is a doozy lol why all the tower cards remind me of the finale of the Magnus Archives

Artwork source https://www.deviantart.com/decepticoniancybra/art/The-Tower-Tarot-Card-871366781

#thelema #thelemic holy season #argentum astrum #holy days #silver star #tarot #current 93

[starcrossedandstupid]

I know the world is beautiful, but it is dull and without whimsy compared to the fantasy I wish to be apart of. There is no magic or fate or curses or prophecies. We long stopped singing ballads and the fairytales of our world are simple when you look at the tales fantasy children are told. We have no handsome princes with magic swords, no mystical girl who lives on the tower on the hill, who might just be immortal. I cannot walk into an enchanted forest, or do small things to prevent malicious spells. There are no semi-immortal magical figures, there are no Fates, no wizards, no tragic tales of kings past who have been cursed, no hope of a fairytale ending. Because this is not a fairytale world with mystery and intrigue and magic places. We do not have a truly magical history, or dazzling balls. We don’t feel the joy of a dangerous adventure, in search of something fortold. You can’t get wrapped up in some sort of plan between some defied not quite humans when you were trying to dance at some event where people are in detailed doublets and fancy fantastical dresses. Somewhere where many carry weapons around, weapons like bejeweled daggers and enchanted swords, not the occasional person with a gun. Where that same dagger can be strapped to my leg under my ballgown.The world we have is nice, but I would rather risk the danger of a world like that than stay here. I want a world where magic is there and true love is a concept that could be bound by fate, where hope is almost a spell in itself. I want whimsical things and magic and love that makes “naive feminine things” like true love and hope and the belief that if you keep going, keep fighting, that you and the good you believe in will eventually win, and you will make sure it stays that way, are possible with that magic that promises to all. I want to sing tale of tragic love. I want an arrow to whiz past me, to feel the breeze whoosh by. I want an adventurous happily ever after, that isn’t really over. One you keep fighting for, day in and out. One that is something you can keep safe and protect. These places are bound to pages, and it sometimes doesn’t feel fair.

#fantasy #day dreaming #escapism #oh to live in a fantasy world #magic #fate #love #curses #true love #hope #happy endings