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idreamofblueming · 2 years

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Hidden Strife Event: Dawn Winery Letters

A Letter With Rough Handwriting:

Diluc,

Jean wrote to me lately with shocking news. If I don't miss my guess, she wrote to you too. Her sentiments are those of the Knights as a whole

Crepus was a good man, and I thought very well of him. It grieves me greatly to know that he met with such a fate.

As for the defeat of the drake, the honors for that accomplishment should go to your father. I do not accept Eroch's theft of the credit for that deed, which was bought with your father's sacrifice.

Stolen credit will not be accepted within the Knights of Favonius under any circumstances. I will not permit it.

I have already given Jean the authority to punish Eroch with all necessary severity. The Knights will inform you of the results.

I've heard that you've been taking some time off outdoors and may not be easy to reach, so there is no guarantee that my letter will reach you. As such, I'll stop here for now.

If this does reach you, then I wish you good health and safety in your travels. Contact us if you need anything.

I hope that falcon of yours will help put this letter in your hands. I mean, I don't write in person very often, you know?

These may seem like pointless words to you right now, but remember: even the greatest of disasters must come to an end.

Mondstadt waits for your return, and if you're willing, the Knights will always welcome you. (If you're not, forget I said anything, yeah?)

A Tidily Written Letter:

To the heir of the Ragnvindr Clan,

I apologize for sending this letter without notice. You may not remember me, but we've met a few times.

We've met near the square, when I sat at the table adjacent to yours at the Good Hunter, and I've seen you in your tavern...

You were always busy with a great many things, especially back when you were much chattier than you are now. You spoke cheerfully and often with your brother and friends then.

It's probably no surprise that you did not notice me then. But I've always had my eye on you, child.

I recall with crystal clarity how my little Klee once made a complete mess of your vineyard while she was trying to catch Crystalflies there...

But you didn't get angry. In fact, you personally escorted Klee back and even gave her a few bottles of fresh grape juice.

Now I think that might jog your memory, yes?

Klee recently told me that she "hasn't seen that strange man with the red hair in aaages," so I decided to look into it out of curiosity.

My deepest condolences regarding your father.

In many of the stories I've been told, you are the model knight: proud, driven, a knight of noble character and lineage.

But I know that you're gentler than you appear. If you weren't, you wouldn't have treated Klee the way you did.

And since you helped my child out, I hope you won't mind if I treat you as if you were my own.

Therefore, I sincerely hope that you will leave the dark place that you are presently in, and that you will not wallow in grief and remorse.

Partings are most painful things, but they also encourage us to grow. A bird that has lost the roof over its head will fly further than others of its kind.

Go out and see the world. That's the best course of action I can envision. Only by feeling, observing, and listening can your heart be healed.

Parents all wish that they can accompany their children forever, and the skies, seas, and stars bear witness to that oath.

Everything that was your father now finds new life with you. That which you will experience in this world may have been things that your father experienced once upon a time.

I hope that the wind will bring you all manner of wondrous things in your journeys to come.

In any case, keep your chin up, young child.

A Letter with Clear Handwriting:

Master,

Master Kaeya took leave and stayed at Dawn Winery for a few days.

In a rare turn of events he decided to stay in his original bedroom. He would pace about the grounds when idle, and even asked Adelinde to make him his favorite dishes.

Ah, it really does take me back.

I shall be honest with you, but I was quite surprised to hear Master Kaeya say that he wanted to stay for a few days.

We did not refuse him, however. We believe that even if you were here, you would not refuse him outright.

Dawn Winery has always been a more quiet location, perhaps because all who stay here are rather peaceable people

The house is made by those who live in it, and Master Kaeya's uncommon arrival did end up livening the place up significantly

I hope that you are doing well in your travels abroad. Everyone here at the winery misses you.

May you remain safe and in good health.

A Letter with Elegant Handwriting:

Dear Diluc,

Welcome back to Mondstadt, Sir.

It has been some time since the incident. We discovered that Eroch had betrayed us, and he has been punished severely.

I hope that this news will put your mind at ease.

In other news, our people have discovered that the Abyss Order has stepped up its activities between Wolvendom and Stone Gate lately.

Also -- a mysterious individual that people are calling the "Darknight Hero" has suddenly started showing up out of nowhere all around Mondstadt City. He typically acts in the dead of night, and his intentions are currently unclear.

Please stay safe, and notify the Knights as soon as possible should you see anything suspicious. We will send support immediately.

Whether you are presently in our ranks or not, all faithful knights will remember your contributions to the Knights of Favonius.

May you remain in great health.

A Neatly Written Letter:

Dear Mr. Diluc,

It is my pleasure to investigate the ley lines alongside you.

As you know, my focus is on alchemy, so my knowledge of the ley lines remains quite shallow, and I fear that I will only be able to share what little understanding I have.

According to many pre-existing documents, the ley lines can be seen as a medium for storing information. Under certain circumstances, they can record activities that occur in the area around them.

All this information goes through a recording and storage process. After a certain period of time, they may be released once again by the ley lines

If I may be so bold as to make a guess, there should be a method to activate the ley lines. Those who grasp such methods can control the times at which ley line information is recorded and released.

Judging from the runic symbols and some other clues, I surmise that there are particular members of the Abyss Order who may have a very small chance of being able to achieve this.

If you believe that this requires further investigation, these entities may serve as your point of entry.

I wrote a paper a few years ago in which I covered my brief foray into questions concerning the flow of ley lines and other topics. You will find a copy of this paper enclosed.

I hope that it can help to clear up some of your doubts

A New Letter:

Dear Darknight Hero, the Knights of Favonius have stepped up the guard details throughout Mondstadt without making major movements. The Abyss Order will not have noticed.

I am scouting around Dragonspine. The monsters here are scattered and separated. Clearly, they haven't been assembled by the Abyss Order.

There are no signs of enemy activity in the south of Mondstadt either.

If you can confirm that the other locations are also free of monsters, we will be able to conclude that the Abyss Order has nothing to do with the recent ley line disorder

A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting (I)

To D:

A storm is brewing within the Knights of Favonius. Varka's inner circle is preparing to investigate Eroch and his henchmen, and it's looking increasingly likely that Eroch is about to get unseated from that high horse of his.

You might not be too pleased to see this letter of mine, but I mean to get this news to you as soon as possible

You don't have to reply.

A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting (II)

To D:

Even I was a little surprised to hear that you'd decided to leave on a trip.

Jean wanted to write and try to dissuade you, but I advised her against it.

As for Varka, I don't think he knows about this. Otherwise, he'd have probably sat you down for a talk.

If you'd like to leave, do it now. The less the people know, the less the goodbyes you'll have to say. Leave at night, too, so things won't be too saddening.

Take care.

A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting (III)

To D:

Some slightly bad news. Eroch won't be quite so difficult to bring down after all.

The Grand Master's order to investigate has certainly dealt him a major blow, but I wouldn't call the problem "pulled up by the roots" yet.

The matter's been handed over to Jean's jurisdiction. She'll take care of this, I believe. Eroch is an obstacle in her path, in any case.

Just sit tight and wait for the good news.

A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting (IV)

To D:

Recently, a group of businessmen returned to Mondstadt. Word is that the reason for their return is a downturn in business.

According to my observations, their employees are regulars at Angel's Share. These people can also be found out in the more dangerous parts of the wilds around the city.

Now, a few of them were a little careless and even dropped some pages of their notes on the ground. I took the liberty of returning these sheets to the Angel's Share. You know, out of the goodness of my heart.

I think they might have something to do with you, seeing as how they were there. I also noticed that their notes were written in code. Information brokers, perhaps? Or some kind of secret organization?

Whatever the case, it took quite a lot of effort to see those blurred words with only one eye, you know? Don't worry, I'll keep this a secret.

A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting (V)

To D:

I didn't try to hide it from you on purpose, you know. But I suppose you found out all the same, huh?

I mean, not everyone who wears an eyepatch must be blind, right? Don't people also wear an eyepatch if they have a scar over their right eye?

The long-awaited good news is finally here.

Now, I'm going to bring a glass of wine when I go to watch Eroch pack his things and leave on his last day (good riddance, by the way). That should be fun, eh?

I know you're not the type to do that sort of thing, but I am, so allow me.

A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting (VI)

To D:

Oh, my! No sooner did you get back than a mysterious character started popping up.

I hear he's called the Darknight Hero. He has repeatedly fought off Treasure Hoarders and monsters in the Mondstadt Area -- and he's even attacked Abyss Order strongholds.

So far, it seems like he is on Mondstadt's side, but the Knights of Favonius could never permit the existence of a vigilante.

I get the feeling that the two of you would get along nicely. Why don't you find an opportunity to get to know him and give him some sage advice? You know, just so he doesn't get caught by the Knights?

A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting (VII)

To D:

Per standard procedure, the Knights of Favonius needs to take a statement from all relevant parties.

Recently, the Knights of Favonius have received reports from a number of eye-witnesses claiming to have seen the Darknight Hero in the vicinity of the Dawn Winery.

The Grand Master has assigned the Cavalry Company to this mission. As such, I will be paying you a visit in three days.

He seems to think that our relationship can be improved if we are forced to talk in person.

Don't worry, though. My lips are sealed. This will be nothing more than a formality. Anyway, three days' notice should be enough for you, I presume?

A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting (VIII)

To D:

The appearance of the Darknight Hero has indeed bought the Knights of Favonius some valuable time during the Abyss Order's last attack.

This helped Jean convince the Knights of Favonius to stop focusing on trying to stop him.

This will decrease the limits on the Darknight Hero's actions, but this doesn't necessarily mean that his situation will necessarily improve.

Objects with too honed an edge tend to be damaged more easily. You, I'm sure, are aware of the great dangers that come with acting alone.

That said, I would advise against such a course of action.

A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting (IX)

To D:

I heard that the Dawn Winery did not suffer any damage. Likewise the Knights of Favonius only sustained minor injuries, and will recover quickly.

However, an employee of a local merchant has gone missing, and their last known location just so happens to align with the Abyss Order's area of activity

The Knights have dispatched people to go to the rescue.

Do be aware that the Abyss Order has become more dangerous as of late, even going so far as to organize multi-pronged offensives.

Perhaps the Darknight Hero and the Knights of Favonius should team up. That might guarantee that things will go off without a hitch, hmm?

#genshin lore #diluc lore #kaeya lore #genshin impact lore #hidden strife genshin #i really hate all these enters but also i wanna stick as close to source formatting as possible #mane this makes me so sad #the letters not the formatting #knights of favonius lore

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SIX || AFTER RAIN

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of death + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 25 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.6k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : curse womb must die II

↳ next episode : assault

↳ barista’s notes : hey hey hey~ let me admit, i have no idea how to write the next episode since you don’t see anyone in them except for gojo and itadori (domain expansion episode) ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ so i might have to improvise something now...BUT there’s nothing much happening in this episode, so i hope you still enjoy it even when there is no action or anything interesting going on ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode...

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing

“We’re in!” Fushiguro and Kugisaki simultaneously answered with determined looks on their faces before turning back to look at you, waiting for your answer.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, you knew that you had no way out of this since they looked so motivated for you to join, even if you disagreed with them.

“This is such a drag, but fine, I’ll join in too,” you replied with a small smile on your face leading them to nod at you before turning back to your seniors.

“But if I decided this training and exchange event is pointless, I’m quitting instantly,” Kugisaki mentioned.

“Same here,” Fushiguro commented, causing you to kick both of them on the back much to their surprise.

“So you drags make me do this event, only for you to dip when it’s pointless for you, besides I heard there are some interesting sorcerers in the Kyoto side, so prepare yourselves,” you stated before stepping down the few steps you were in front of before standing between them.

“Well, people this cocky are all more worthwhile to train,” Panda mentioned with his arms folded with a determined look on his face.

“Bonito flakes,” Inumaki said in a softer tone.

Looking up to the sky, you couldn’t help but brisk in the sunlight that was shining lightly down upon you, leading you to raise your hand over your face in order to not be blinded.

‘I wonder how I’m going to hide from this one now?’

ꕥ

“You’re late, Megumi,” Zenin obviously mentioned, as her head was turned with what seemed like to be a wooden combat pole in her hand as it casually leaned against her shoulder.

“Kelp,” Inumaki stated, as he was sitting on the ground, also having his head turned to look at the Shikigami user, ignoring what seemed to be a race between Kugisaki and Panda going on behind him.

“What were you doing?” Maki asked curiously, as Fushiguro made his way down the stone steps towards his upperclassman while zipping up his blue track top.

“What does it matter?” Fushiguro then questioned, not giving the weapon-wielder sorcerer a clear answer since he thought there was no need sharing the fact that he went to visit the mother of the man (that Itadori want to save) that had been killed by the special-grade curse back at Eushi Detention Centre to pay his condolences.

“Zenin-senpai...what kinds of people do you want to save as a jujutsu sorcerer?” Fushiguro queried, as he processed to stare down upon the ground trying to hide his emotions to compose his stoic nature, causing the mentioned sorcerer to turn her head once again to look at the other student.

“Huh? It’s not like I care if my actions save anyone,” Zenin answered in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Fushiguro to look to the side with an ‘I’m done’ expression.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Fushiguro muttered in a lowered tone, leading Zenin to instantly become annoyed as she eyed at the erratic-haired boy with instant irritations in her eyes as well as expression.

Suddenly…

“FUSHIGURO! Quit asking interview prep questions! Switch with me! I’m sick of these school uniforms! Let me go buy some cute tracksuits!” Kugisaki shouted in a fit of rage, as she was strangely spun around in a dizzy circle like she was at a funfair circus as a clueless gymnast before being thrown in the air by Panda.

“What are those two doing?” Fushiguro confusingly asked as he watched the amusing sight process while his classmate landed on the floor.

“Falling practice!” Panda announced as he pointed his finger in the air like what he was doing was obviously.

“Mustard leaf,” Inumaki stated as if to confirm Panda’s answer, as he too looked at the ridiculous scene.

“You’re both weak in close quarters, after all,” Panda stated, as he informed his younger classmen on why what he was doing, made sense to the training that he had planned.

“By the way, where is Y/N? She was with you when you both left to do whatever you were doing,” Zenin questioned, as she looked around the area behind her to see if you were there since she did miss your presence the last time you both met.

“She said she needed to go somewhere important, but will be back as quick as possible,” Fushiguro recalled, as he remembers after you both met with Tadashi’s mother, you informed him that you had to go somewhere for the time being, but didn’t tell him where you were exactly heading off to.

“That’s fine, I guess,” Maki replied back as she processed to swing around the wooden pole she had in her hand with such grace and accuracy before continuing with, “if what that idiot Gojo said to us about her is true, she could beat all of us in an instant, she’ll probably be perfect in the individual’s battle,”.

“Okay, land a blow on us,” Zenin stated, with her palm out, as if inviting Fushiguro to attack her.

ꕥ

“I’m here, mother”

As of right now, you were holding a small bouquet of a beautiful arrangement of blue hydrangeas paired with white roses with some incense sticks in one hand, while the other was holding a wooden tub filled with water with a wooden ladle as well as a plastic white bag with items you quickly brought from the corner store causing you to quickly place your items down before leaving the delicate bouquet in a safe area.

Digging through the white plastic bag, you pulled out a cloth before removing the stubborn tags that refused to be taken off as you processed to soak the material before beginning to wipe down the marble gravestone that towered you as your crouched down before cleaning the vase that you had also brought from the corner store - yet you were surprised at the fact there were no weeds to be pulled.

After you had quickly clean the gravestone, you picked up the incense sticks in their rightful holder before lighting them up with a match (that you also brought from the store) before carefully removing the paper that held the flowers to gently place the floral plants in the same neat arrangement in the now cleaned vase.

Making sure the china vase was placed in the middle, you grabbed the wooden ladle that was in the wooden bucket, making sure it had enough water before standing back up on your feet to pour the clear liquid over the grave as you then placed the ladle back into the bucket.

Placing your hands together in prayer, before internally thanking your mother for protecting you as well as expressing your gratitude for her.

“They’re your favourite flowers right?” you gently asked, as you stared down at the flowers that were beautifully sitting in the vase. “Those were really expensive you know, I wonder how you were able to buy them so often without any regrets,” you muttered with a small smile before crouching back down as if you were going to look eye to eye with the gravestone like your mother was going to be sitting in front of you.

“I've been found…but...I wasn’t as bad as I suspected, the people at Jujutsu Tech are such drags but they’re really nice people,” you expressed, as you continued with, “I’m sorry I took so long to visit, you know Sendai to Tyoko is a really long journey, technically that’s both our faults since we agreed that we wanted to rest in Tokyo if we did pass,”.

Looking at the marble stone in front of you, you could see the thin smoke of incense that was slowly swirling into the air, as if it was trying to hypnotise you with its graceful movements. However, even though you knew you had to get back to Jujutsu Tech as quick as you could, you couldn’t help but utter a few more words to your late mother.

“I miss you mum”

ꕥ

“Ah- am I late?”

At this current moment in time, it seemed like training had taken a pause since everyone was seated somewhere close to the stone stairs that lead the way down to the track field.

“Where were you? I needed you to train Megumi more,” Zenin asked, as you carefully made your way down the stairs with another white plastic bag in hand before making your way to your upperclassmen with one hand holding each handle, leaving an opening that was large enough to let her have a view on the contents inside.

“Sorry, I was visiting someone, but I got you guys some refreshments since I know you all were going to be tired by the time I came. Oh! The orange juice is mine by the way,” you mentioned, as you swiftly grabbed the orange carton from the bag as if someone was going to steal it if you didn’t.

Smiling at you, Zenin leaned away from the tree bark to see what she could choose from the bag, before reaching in, to grab that bottle of water as her choice before you processed to hold the bag around for everyone to get a pick on what beverage they wanted before you took a seat on the steps between Fushiguro and Inuamki.

“Where’s Kugisaki?” you asked in curiosity, as you looked around the fielded area only to not find your classmate leading Fushiguro to explain to you that she went out to buy a tracksuit since she didn’t have one, causing you to realise that you probably needed to change later but for now, you didn’t find being in your school uniform since the slit on the side of your long skirt, made it easier to move as well as deal with the warm environment that was coming in for the season at the moment.

“Gojo, your katana is a cursed weapon right?” Fushiguro asked, causing you to look at him weirdly after stabbing the straw into the carton before giving him a nod as a way to reply to his question.

“I agreed with the others that supplementing my close combat with weapons is the best choice right now, but with my cursed technique, I want to be able to free both hands at any time, with katanas, you lose time sheathing them,” Fushiguro explained, as he placed the pads of his fingers together while looking down at them.

“How do you carry your weapon when your cursed technique is used by your hands as well, also how did you manage to hide the chain attached at the end?” Fushiguro asked as he looked up at you, only to be surprised when he saw you looking at him with an annoyed expression.

‘That’s one way to somewhat expose me, I guess’

“I can utilise my technique by using only one hand, although there are times when I have to use both hands like you. However, I rarely unsheathe my katana, so it usually hangs on my back,” you described, causing Fushiguro’s to concentrate on you, trying to understand your technique since it seemed more complicated then you made it look at your battle with Sukuna.

“About the chain, the red charm cancels the chain being constructed since it will use my cursed energy, not a lot for me, but it’s a drag since I need the extra bit. When the charm is off, I use my curse energy to conceal before clicking my fingers to reveal it, if I want to, and when I use two hands, I can use the chain to pull it back,” you explained, causing the second-years to be surprised at the amount of cursed energy you have to use to employ such a simple weapon - maybe it wasn’t as simple as they intentionally thought.

“How much cursed energy do you possess, Y/N?” Panda asked as he placed his paw on his chin in a thinking posture, only for Fushiguro to answer the question.

“She has a lot more than she is showing right now, I don’t know how but she can hide it,” Fushiguro stated, causing you to smack the back of his head before placing the neglected straw back to your lips since you were desperately craving the citrus content that was in the carton.

“Zenin-senpai, you often carry more than two around with you, right? How do you do that?” Fushiguro queried as he rubbed the back of his head to soothe the pain you had given him.

“I made Panda carry them,” Zenin answered, as she pointed at the classmate leading to the animal sorcerer to proudly show off his muscles as if to inform you and Fushiguro on how strong he was.

“I shouldn’t have asked, part two,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath, causing you to giggle internally at the statement as you wondered what he must have asked the first time since ‘part two’ was in the sentence.

“Some sorcerers keep cursed spirits that can store and retrieve objects,” Panda presented a well-thought idea, even though there was a disadvantage to that.

“He can’t do that. It’s a rare thing and it takes time to tame them, as well. But if you find any, let me know,” Zenin countered, before Panda replied for the payment he wanted if he ever finds a curse for her, causing you to zone out from the conversation as you processed to stare down at the step before you, that was slightly darkened by the shade of your shadow.

In curiosity, you took a side glance at your classmate only to notice that he was in deep thought, leaving you to figure something out for him while he thought of his own solution.

‘His shikigami uses shadows for a medium, then if that is the case…’

Using your hand that was occupied with your orange juice, you leaned forwards slightly, letting the tips of your fingers touch the stone step below you while making them land in the middle of your shadow.

“I think you can do that,” you stated in a quiet tone, causing Fushiguro to look in your direction only to see you staying still in the position that you had set yourself in before slowly pulling yourself back up to sit in a normal position, leading Fushiguro to go back to what he was in deep thought about.

‘I don’t get it, though. Why...did you run back then? What a waste of talent, but the girl back at that place, she knows how to use her technique extremely well’

“You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?”

‘I have the potential to beat special grades? Is that what he meant by that?’ Fushiguro thought, before turning to look at you to discover you were looking into the distance while continuously sipping on your orange juice like the addict you were.

‘What was she trying to tell me? It seemed like L/N knows something...intellect?’

Slowly but curiously, Fushiguro began to reciprocate your previous movements by letting his hand touch the step between his legs before waiting for a second to see what you were trying to inform him, only for his hand to steadily go deeper into his shadow leading him to widen his eyes at this discovery.

“Tuna, tuna,” Inumaki mentioned, as he pointed at Fushiguro since he noticed what he was doing, leading Zenin and Panda to look at their classmate wanting to know what he was trying to bring their attention to.

“Huh? What?” Zenin asked in confusion, before turning her head in the shikigami user’s direction to realise what he was doing.

“Senpai, I think I can do it,” Fushiguro stated with a rare smile, before looking in your direction once again to see you were still staring at the field in front of you.

‘Such intellect…’

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chainofclovers · 3 years

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Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #meta by me #ted lasso 2x10 #a lesbian watches ted lasso #lotta feelings in here y'all #cw suicide

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erosofthepen · 3 years

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Letters From Amad pt.2

After about five months of not knowing how to continue it, i have finished part 2!! There will be a third part, not nearly as long, and i already have most of it written, so it should be out a lot sooner lol. BUT, i hope you enjoy it, and thanks for putting up with me lol.

-Part 1

-Words: 4,898

-Warnings: blizzard/storm, injury, hypothermia, some swearing

-Tags: @grunid, @elvish-sky, @sassyscribbler, @whore4fictionalhoes11, @smaugs-guardian, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @jotink78, @marvel-ous-hobbit, @anjhope1, (if i forgot you, im sorry, i have trouble keeping track sometimes)

It was moments like this that reflected Thorin’s terrible decision making. In actuality, his decision to not put anymore lives at risk was very wise. But still, it was Fili who was out there. And Kili. And since Thorin would not send a search party out, it was time to take matters into your own hands.

First things first, you went back to your chambers and put on your warmest, fluffiest, most wind-resistant coat. Rabbit fur covered the insides (the hides were hunted and tanned by Fili, a courting gift to you), and thick leather made up the outside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in. Next, you pulled on your winter boots (you had actually just had them made last week, and there were three little pockets perfect for concealing knives in), as well as a hat, gloves, and a scarf, all knitted by Ori, his way to show gratitude after your help in the libraries. You then proceeded to gather up some salted meat and cram, walk down to the entrance of the mountain, and enter the stables.

You choose a faithful companion to keep you company, namely, Daisy. The Mare had a thick wooly mane, and an extreme proclivity towards sweets. This was not to be your first venture with the pony, and now you knew better to bring him anywhere within five leagues of a bakery. You had not been amused when he had eaten an entire box of pastries meant for you and the scholars, though Kili and Fili had thought it to be the most hilarious of stories. However, despite his tendency to devour pastries, Daisy was reliable and resilient, and you hardly rode any other steed.

Several stableboys tried to dissuade you from leaving in the storm, but you brushed off their remarks as you tacked up Daisy. Thankfully, they didn’t try to block your path as you left, though they did warn you to be careful. You weren’t too concerned, for the storm had grown tamer in the day, and the frost was not biting your face. Yet, that is.

You reached Dale in about an hour. It took much longer than expected, with Daisy being nearly up to his belly in the fallen snow. Dale was practically devoid of men and women, most of them having the brains to stay inside during the storm. The only exceptions were some watchmen and one or two passersby.

“Oi, it’s a bit too cold for a morning ride lady, have you lost all sense?” A guard asked as you were leaving the gate on the other side of town.

“No my good fellow, I'm just looking for my friends. Have you seen two dwarrow come this way?”

“Can’t say that I have, but Maurice said he saw a pair last night, a few hours before the snow started.”

“Did Maurice mention where they were headed?”

“To the caravan, where else? It’s about fifteen miles from here, I would guess. You’re not considering going out there, are you?”

“I’m afraid that I must. Good day to you sir,”

“And a very cold day to you, lassie. Best of travels.”

“And to you as well.”

You quickly left and mentally cursed yourself for wishing him best of travels in return. He wasn’t traveling, you idiot!

The embarrassment faded as the wind began to pick up. The blizzard was steadily getting thicker, the puffy snowflakes turning more compact and icy. The city of Dale had long disappeared behind you in the snow, and you could only hope you were headed in the right direction.

However adventurous and bold it sounds, riding bare-back on a pony in the middle of a freezing cold snow storm was not at all an easy task. Your scarf had been moved to cover most of your face, and your hood was tied tightly ‘round your head, yet the flakes still stung your flesh. You were definitely starting to rethink your whole “making sure the brothers were alright in a storm idea.” Especially since it was pointless to look for them in between the caravan and Dale, as you couldn’t even see ten feet in front of you. Your goal now was to simply make it to the caravan without frostbite.

Around noon, you tried eating a bit of the bread you had packed, only to find it frozen. As well as the cheese. And the dried meat. It wouldn’t do good to gnaw on it either, as that would just make your innards cold as well, so you just went with your stomach protesting.

It was starting to get quite dark when you finally saw what seemed to be a glow in the distance. As you drew closer, it grew apparent that it was the caravan, and you sighed in great relief.

The dwarrow on watch were very suspicious. Of course, once you explained your purpose, they grew less so.

“I come from Erebor, in search of the Princes. Prince Fili and Kili left last night with the intention to travel here, have they arrived?”

The guards started to look a bit nervous.

“No my lady, no one’s seen anything of them.”

Your heart dropped to your feet.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, the whole group would have known.”

You might’ve cried, but your eyes felt nearly frozen. You turned your pony, with full intent to head back out into the blizzard and look for your love, when one of the watchdwarrow stopped you.

“You’ll freeze out there my lady, as will your pony. Stay and get warm.”

“Aye lass” another said, “Besides, if the Prince’s are out there, her Lady Dís should be informed.”

Ah, that’s right. Dís.

One of the guards led Daisy off to get warm with other animals, while the other led you to Her Ladyship’s tent. He announced your presence, awaited approval, and then lifted the flap of the tent, beckoning you inside before letting it fall behind you.

Dís was a truly stunning Dwarrow, even for her age, with long black raven hair and a beard to match. Some strands were turning silver, much like Thorin’s, and her blue eyes were more piercing than an orc’s. She looked incredibly confused when you walked into her tent.

“Good Mahal lass, what the hell were you doing out in that storm? You must be senseless.” She said, looking up from a book she had been reading and furrowing her brows.

“I was looking for the Prince’s. I should introduce myself, my name is (Y/N).”

Dís’s eyes widened and she stood, showing off quite an impressive height.

“Why would you be looking for my sons out in this storm, (Y/N)?”

“They… Fili left a note this morning, he and Kili were coming to the caravan to see you. The watchdwarrow said they hadn’t arrived.”

The Dwarrowdams jaw went slack for a moment, and then she cursed, banging her hand on a small table that held a bottle of whiskey.

“Foolish boys! Have they no sense? I was to be seeing them in only a few more days, but they could not wait, could they? Och, the beasts!” Dís continued her rant for a while longer, before she turned her gaze back on you.

“And you journeyed out here in the storm?”

“Aye. I could not rest well knowing that they were out in this foul weather. I will be going to head back out to look for them as soon as I’ve warmed up a bit,” you replied, very conscious of the Mother’s piercing stare. She was quiet, until she breathed a worried sigh.

“It’s no use to search out in this weather, lass. Especially at night. Rest here with me, we’ll go searching first thing on the morrow. I must talk with the guards for now, make yourself comfortable, I will return soon.”

And, just like that, Dís left the tent. Her talk was brief, and left you standing dumb in the center of the tent. For some time, you debated on whether or not to go out searching anyways, but the fire was surely inviting, and something in you knew Dís wouldn’t take kindly to you leaving against her wishes.

Your travel bag, heavy and frozen from being exposed to the elements for so long, left your shoulders as you set it down by the entrance. Next came your gloves, and then the outer coat, snow and ice caked on it making your fingers fumble whilst trying to unbutton it. Eventually, it joined your bag, as well as your boots (if you had thought the coat was difficult to get off, the frozen buckles on your boots were torture). After you had stripped the burdensome clothing off, you simply stood in the center of the room, close to the fire. There were blankets nearby, piled near a bedroll, but you dared not touch them, seeing as they belonged to Dís. It was rather awkward, simply sitting in a stranger's (of sorts) quarters, and weren’t sure what to do.

Your eyes did some exploring for you, falling first on the book that Dís had been reading. ‘The Heart of Hrund’. Huh. You recognized the title, from the Great Library, but you knew very little about it. You’d have to read it now. Your eyes then fell to the whiskey bottle. ‘Breaker’s’. Ah. Memories you shared with Kili at the beginning of the journey returned, however hazed they were due to your drunken state. Strong stuff, Breaker’s was. Bofur managed to get his hands on a few bottles from a merchant, and you and Kili had stolen one from him, much to Thorin’s disappointment and Fili’s annoyance (he was upset to be left out of the fun). Your eyes then drifted to a leather-fitted box, beautiful khuzdul runes and designs etched into it, however, before you could get a closer look, footsteps crunched through the snow outside the tent.

Dís and a young dwarrow entered, carrying stew, bread, and a plethora of blankets and pillows.

“Mahal,” Dís started, placing the tray of food down on the little table and grabbing a quilt from the other dwarrow, “Have you just been sitting here freezing? You could have taken a blanket, you know.” She said, wrapping the quilt around your shoulders and moving you to sit down.

“I, er, I didn't want to be rude.” You replied, now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dís screwed her face at you.

“Lass, it is never considered rude to take a blanket in the cold. Only exception is if someone is already using it.”

You didn’t reply, feeling very uncomfortable social-wise, despite finally starting to warm up physically. Dís grabbed the rest of the supplies from the other dwarrow and nodded at him to leave. As he left the tent, Dís set the other blankets down and started making a bedspace for you near the fire.

“I can help with that,” you said, starting to get up to help.

“Nonsense lass, you get yourself warm.” Dis stood and grabbed the food tray once more. “However, I do request that you eat.” she set the tray down in front of you, and you thanked her, feeling a bit guilty as you started on the stew.

“Uh, have you eaten yet, My Lady?”

Dís scoffed, resuming her work on your bed roll. “Don’t call me that child, call me Amad. I can hardly stand to be addressed in that way by servants, let alone my sons One. But yes, I’ve had my fill.”

Her words shocked you, having only ever heard Fili refer to you as his One. You hardly expected Dís to accept you as Fili’s lover, let alone his One.

“Alright.” You replied, once more feeling dumb and without anything to contribute. So you sat in silence, trying hard not to slurp and watching Dís make up your bed. Eventually, She moved up and away, surveying her work.

“Thank you, that was very kind.” you said. Dís sighed and nodded, sitting down on the other side of the fire. You were quiet once more, and were now re-considering going out to search for Fili and Kili, if only to avoid the discomfort of the situation.

“I hope you are only not talking because of the storm. I expected a much more chatty lass, if i’m being honest.” Dís remarked, eyeing you carefully.

Panic flashed through your eyes as you tried to think of something to say, but Dís let out a soft chuckle before you could make a fool of yourself.

“I’m only joking, child. You needn't be nervous here. Tell me, how was your journey from the mountain to here?”

“Cold,” You blurted out, shuddering as you imagined the wind biting your face. Dís smiled at your bluntness.

“Indeed, I imagine it would be, especially if you’ve been out all day. Tell me, was there any sign of them as you came over?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately no, I could hardly see past my nose once the snow grew thicker.”

“I swear, those boys will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“Just be glad you weren’t Thorin trying to deal with all three of us,” you said without thinking. Dís locked eyes with you, and then started chuckling.

“I do not envy him, based on what I've read of you three. It seems that you made it your entire purpose to create trouble for my brother dear.”

“Well, we tried to. For the first half of the journey, at least. He was much more willing to withstand our meddling before we crossed the Misty Mountains. Then came the orcs, and goblins, and Mirkwood, Laketown, the dragon… and the battle too.” Your face had fallen whilst you spoke, and Dis reached out her hand to comfort you.

“You mustn't dwell on the hardships of the past, child. It does nothing but cause trouble for the mind. Believe me, I know.”

At that moment, Dís seemed to age very quickly, and the wisdom and experience that this dwarrowdam had became clearer. You knew her story well-enough, from nights Fili had needed to find comfort in you, telling you about his childhood and family. Dís had wed Víli Heptifilissøn, and twelve years after Kili had been born, he had fallen ill from the Black Lung*, and had spent months growing weaker and weaker until he perished. Fili was able to remember the wretched coughing, and his Adad’s ragged breaths, as clearly as the day it happened. It was the reason he refused to go deep into coal mines, or else made up excuses. If those memories still hung onto Fili, you could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Dís, who had to watch her husband suffer such a death. Looking at her now, you never felt more in awe of a single person.

“You speak truly, my Lady-”

She looked at you sharply, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“-I mean, Amad.”

That satisfied her, and she relaxed her hand away. “I do indeed, child. Never has a lie crossed my lips. Except when I told Thorin that he had a mighty spider in his beard.” You chuckled at that, but it quickly turned to a yawn. Dís raised a brow.

“It’s time for sleep then,” she commented, “I’ll leave you in peace to finish eating, and then it’s straight to bed.” Dís stood and went back to her chair, and resumed her book, leaving you to scoop that last of the stew in your mouth. It was not long before you were warm and cozy in your makeshift bed, and Dís bid you goodnight before blowing out the lanterns.

You woke to shouting. In your groggy state, you couldn’t make out the words, and you blinked in the dim light of the fire.

“What new madness arises?” You heard Dís murmur, followed by the sounds of her fumbling about. The shouting grew nearer. “Are you awake, (Y/N)?”

“Only partly,” you replied, trying to untangle the covers from your legs. You shuddered as the extra warmth left, but hurried to your feet, only stumbling slightly. The noise was becoming considerably louder, and your ears could start to make out the words being yelled.

“Get a healer, lads!”

“He looks frozen stiff!”

“SHOVE OFF! WHERE IS AMAD?” Kili’s furious shout snapped you into alertness. At that moment, Dís was able to find a lantern, and finally the tent’s interior was more visible. The flap in front of the tent lifted, and Kili stumbled in, hair frozen with bits of ice and face bright red. With horror, you realized he was supporting another dwarf who was barely conscious. Fili.

You jumped to your feet and rushed towards your betrothed, supporting his other side and lifting his head. Fili’s lips were tinged blue, and his teeth were chattering bitterly, clacking together in a terrible rhythm. Dís was there not a second after you, and she helped guide you all to lay Fili down in the space you had slept just moments before.

“Strip him down,” Dís commanded, starting to work on his boots. You followed her orders without hesitation, helping Kili with Fee’s coat. It didn’t take too long for the three of you to undress him to his underclothes, and you winced when you saw his shoulder looked… definitely not normal. Dís pressed on it gently, and Fili made a weak groan that twisted at your heart.

“He fell off his pony,” Kili said.

“Of course he did. Kili, fetch a healer.” The younger prince sprang up, filled with energy even after being out in a blizzard for nearly an entire day. But he was hardly at the entrance when a grizzled old dwarrow entered, a satchel in hand and a hard look set in his features.

‘‘Hanarr,” Dís welcomed, nodding her head. The old dwarf grunted in acknowledgement before kneeling down by Fili’s shoulder, feeling along the bone. He grunted once more, before looking up at Kili.

“Hold down right here lad,” Hanarr instructed, moving Kili’s hands to rest on Fili’s other shoulder and chest. “Right, hold it firm.”

Hanarr outstretched Fili’s other arm, and began to move it towards his head. A click sounded, and Fili called out, however weakly. His shoulder looked back to normal again, and Hanarr quickly folded his arm against his chest, before searching through his medical pack and pulling out a sling.

“Sit him up, lad.” the healer instructed Kili. He propped Fili up against his side, and this time, Fili held his own head up, his gaze landing on you. Confusion flitted across his nearly-frostbitten features, and he mumbled your name despite of his state.

But Hanarr was upon him again, and soon the sling was fastened to his arm, and the Healer was moving his legs so that they were tucked against his chest. He addressed Kili once more, “Get rid of yer tunic, and stay close to yer brother” and then turned towards you, “do the same, but mind his shoulder lassie.” Without hesitation, you followed his command and soon Fili was sandwiched between yourself and Kili. Dís (with the permission of Hanarr), wrapped several blankets around the three of you, and soon set to work on making some tea. Hanarr presented her with a root of ginger, and, after seeing that all that could be done was done, decided to take his leave.

“He should be fine in a few hours, I'll come back to check on him soon. Keep him awake.” were his final words before departing.

The silence that followed his departure was intense, interrupted only by the sound of the fire, the kettle, and a knife. Dís was the first to speak.

“I would have your hides, if I was not so glad to see you again.” She said in a low voice as she shredded the ginger.

“I’m sorry Amad,” Kili said, eyeing the movement of his Amad’s knife, “Patience has never been my strong suit.” Beside you, Fili shifted and rested his forehead against your temple.

“Indeed not,” Dís replied, her voice heating like the water she was boiling, “How did you convince your brother to join you in this endeavor?” Fili moved again, this time nuzzling his face into your neck and hair, his nose startlingly cold.

“Who said it was my idea?” Kili argued. However, Dís turned her glare on him, and He flushed and murmured, “he wanted to see you too, it didn’t take much to convince him.”

“(Y/N)” Fili said, drawing the attention away from arguing. “ ‘m tired.” He let his head rest heavy against your shoulder, and you (reluctantly) moved him away.

“You must wait to sleep, Kidhuzel,” You said, bringing your hand up to brush his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes wider, in sheer betrayal. You could have smiled, knowing Fili’s tendency to become unreasonably cross when denied sleep, but instead you kissed his cheek.

“Your Amad is making tea for you, and when you drink it, you’ll warm right up.” The blond prince’s eyes dropped once more and he tried moving back to the crook of your neck, only to be refused a second time.

“ I’d prefer Ale,” He muttered bitterly. At this, you did allow yourself to smile.

“Not a chance. Your heart might stop.” He grumbled and detached his uninjured arm from Kili, taking your hand and squeezing it with what feeble strength that had returned to his veins.

“It won’ stop as long as you’re ‘ere.”

Kili snorted, but was silenced as Dís sent him another glare, and you laughed softly, shaking your head and squeezing his hand back.

“If it worked that way, then I would gladly give you the finest Ale, however, I do believe tea would be a better option.”

When the tea was ready, you helped Fili to drink it. At first, the prince had winced at the heat, but soon he drank it gladly, becoming more alive with each sip. You sensed Dís watching you and Fili carefully, but brushed it off, telling yourself she was only concerned for Fili, not observing how you interacted. A small part of you that wouldn’t be silenced said it was both. Soon the mug was empty, and it had apparently helped Fili along much more than you anticipated, and soon he had detached himself completely from his brother and was pulling you closer.

“Careful of your shoulder,” you reminded him.

“ ‘s fine.” He replied, pressing flush against you. His skin had already warmed, thus proving the hardiness and hot blood of dwarrow. Kili scooted away, seeing that he was no longer needed, readjusted the furs covering yourself and his brother, and pulled his tunic back on. Dís immediately walked over and threw another fur across his shoulders, and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned just as tightly. You averted your eyes when Kili started to sniff and tremble.

“I missed you,” he said.

“And I as well, inùdoy” Mother and son stayed in once another’s embrace, until she drew away and made him drink his fill of ginger tea as well.

A half hour later, you were struggling to keep Fili’s eyes open, and Kili had already crashed on Dís’s bedroll. The dwarrowdam herself grew impatient for Hanarr’s return, and had gone out searching for him. She reentered the tent with him not ten minutes later, and Hanarr (as grumpy and irritable as he was, he was an excellent healer), inspected Fili. Truly, your prince was proof that dwarves were nothing more than portable furnaces, and his temperature was more or less back to normal. He still was a bit out of it, but it was nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Soon Hanarr declared that it was safe for Fili to sleep, and almost immediately, the blond sank into your bedroll and began to snore.

Diís left after Hanarr, telling you to rest and call her if need be. You didn’t question where she was going, and she did not share it with you.

However tired and exhausted you were, sleep would not come. You sat in front of the fire for hours, feeding it and stoking it, keeping your mind entertained with the images dancing in the flames.

You had just finished adding another log to the fire, when a hand lightly gripped your wrist.

“Ghivashel” Fili said faintly. Your head turned towards him, and you smiled despite all things; for while Fili’s face was still red, his hair undone, and his eyes bleary, he was alive and conscious.

“Khuzd allakhul” you scolded, bending down to lean your forehead against his, “What sort of prince are you, to go out in the snow and frighten your lover?” You kissed his lips softly before drawing away just enough to wait for his answer.

“A very foolish prince indeed,” He murmured, his hand on your wrist pulling you back towards him. “But what sort of lover are you, to worry so greatly and come after me in the snow?”

“A very devoted lover, who has half a mind to leave now that you’ve insulted my care of you.” Fili’s eyes widened and he summoned his strength to pull you down, nestled in his side.

“Forgive me, I was not thinking of insulting you, amrâlimê. I just don’t want to see you suffer for my sake. Menu Tessu.” He said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. The beads on his mustache braids still felt frozen, but his lips were warm. You smiled and took his hand, entwining your fingers together.

“All is forgiven. So long as you won’t do anything as stupid as that ever again.” you replied. Fili sighed and kissed the side of your mouth.

“I shall try my very hardest not to.”

“That isn’t very reassuring.”

“Then you must forgive me once more, for I cannot make such bold promises whilst Kili remains my brother.”

You both chuckled at this, before settling into comfortable silence. Slowly, your eyes began to drop, the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of Fili’s breath making it harder and harder to evade sleep. The fact that the lion prince had begun to rub circles into your shoulder with his thumb wasn’t helping. After the third time you startled yourself awake, Fili’s voice was near your ear.

“You can sleep now, Amralime. I won’t be going anywhere.”

His words were nothing short of a spell, and in less than a minute, your eyes closed and sleep overtook you, a comforting, dreamless sleep, the best kind.

When next you woke, indeed, Fili was still right next to you, awake, but only just. He was blinking the sleep away, and you suspected that his movements had been what had woken yourself. Cold winter light was shining through the tent flaps, cutting like a blade through the warm glow that filled the inside, and a conversation was taking place.

“We left in the wee hours, m’lady, just before dawn. You can imagine the state Thorin was in when he heard that the entire future of Erebor was out in the snow.” The voice of Dwalin more than successfully brought you to awakeness, and you sat up, looking around for the source of his voice.

“Indeed, I imagine he would be weathering the floors with pacing. I expect we’ll be leaving soon, no?” Now Dís spoke, and by this point, you and Fili had turned behind you to see the pair talking over mugs of mulled wine. Kili was also there, however, he was still dreaming on Dís’s previous sleeping roll, limbs sprawled out wide and mouth hung open almost comically.

“Aye, as soon as these three are dressed and ready.” Dwalin said, turning his gaze onto you and Fili, brow raised and the slightest of smiles on his warrior face. “What a lot of worry you and your brother had us in,” he continued, addressing Fili specifically, “I swear to Mahal, you’ve no idea what sort of panic you caused. Course, when yeh come back with your shoulder like that, everyone’ll be doting on yeh. ‘The poor heir who got caught in a blizzard trying to see his Amad’, not ‘the fucking idiot who didn’t have any patience and went out in the night despite knowing there was a storm brewin’.” But all while saying this, there was humor and relief in the warrior's voice, betraying how glad he felt that the boys were not frozen under three feet of ice and snow.

“Both versions are correct,” Fili pointed out, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Aye, but only the first version will get told.” Dwalin replied, to which you laughed. He turned his focus to you now. “Don’t think you’re innocent lass, Thorin nearly had a heart-attack when we couldn’t find you. Both the heirs missin’ was bad enough, but the lady who’ll be adding to the heirs disappearing made it all worse.”

“Och, Dwalin, she had a noble cause to come out in the snow, you needn’t blame her for anything.” Dís said, coming to your aid.

“Was our cause not noble and justified?” Kili’s voice piped up. The Prince's eyes were hardly opened, but he was more than ready to defend himself from accusations.

“Not when you were to be seeing me in less than a week. If I was able to refrain myself from going out into a blizzard in the late hours, you should have been able to as well.” Dís retorted. A sour expression crossed Kili’s face, but he dared not argue with his Amad.

“Right then,” Dwalin said, “Get yourselves up an’ ready, we’ve not much daylight left to get back to Erebor.”

*Black Lung: Coal miner’s pneumonia.

Kidhuzel: Gold of Gold

Inùdoy: Son

Ghivashel: Treasure of Treasures

Khuzd allakhul: Stupid Dwarf

Menu Tessu: You mean everything to me

(part three will be out soon)

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nmikaelsonimagines · 3 years

Text

The Way I Loved You, Part Two: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

So this is Part Two! Hope this is okay for you guys, and enjoy x

Need to catch up? Find the rest of the series just below:

The Way I Loved You

He respects my space And never makes me wait And he calls exactly when he says he will He's close to my mother

Klaus sighed as yet again, he was told that the number he was trying to call had been disconnected. Maybe he should have just given Y/N her space; she clearly didn’t want to talk to him. His last letter hadn’t been answered and that was over a fortnight ago.

It was ironic really. When they were together, he had been useless at answering her calls, at calling her when he said he would. And now she was gone from his life, he was reaching the point of desperation.

Klaus knew that she had moved on in the six months since they had broken up, but it didn’t explain why he couldn’t get hold of her. Okay, admittedly, things had ended badly, but Klaus wanted to patch them up.

He understood that it didn’t mean they would get back together – she was in love with someone else, after all – but he still wanted her in his life. Klaus Mikaelson hadn’t been the perfect boyfriend, and as much as he didn’t really want to settle for anything less than that, he would try and be a better friend.

Even if his letters did tell her that he still loved her. He always would.

Talks business with my father He's charming and endearing And I'm comfortable

Klaus tried the number again. He wasn’t going to let an automated machine tell him that he couldn’t talk to Y/N, that he had lost her forever.

It wasn’t even as if he could contact her family; he had never got on particularly well with her parents, no matter how charming he tried to be. Those charms had only seemed to work on Y/N herself.

Until something had gone terribly wrong and they had broken up.

The phone still ringing in his ear, Klaus reflected on just how badly things had gone. Yes, there had been lots of shouting, lots of screaming, but at the end of it all, Klaus had wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and whisper words of endearment into her ears. He wanted to kiss it all away, and his lips ached as he remembered how it felt to kiss her.

She had made him feel so comfortable, so content with life.

It just didn’t make sense that she’d disappeared. Klaus didn’t entertain the thought that something terrible had happened, wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if it happened when he wasn’t there to protect her.

Six months of trying, of writing, of missing her. Nothing.

Klaus groaned at the voice of the machine at his ear.

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain It's 2AM and I'm cursing your name

Klaus resisted throwing the phone into the bustling crowds of New Orleans. He resisted the urge to roar, to lose his temper, frustration coating every rational thought. He hadn’t been this angry since the night he had lost Y/N, that night where she had told him that things were over between them.

He remembered how it had been pouring, the rain thrashing down on both of them, mingling with her tears as she told him how she loved him, but how she couldn’t do this anymore.

He should have promised to change for her then, should have told her that he understood, told her that he would do whatever it took to make her stay with him. Instead he had kissed her and when that hadn’t worked, he had thrown insults her way, told her she was being ridiculous, told her that he would be better off without her anyway.

It was a lie, the biggest he had ever told. It was his biggest regret and as he looked at her name on his phone for what must have been the millionth time in six months, Klaus muttered under his breath. “Where are you, Y/N?”

It was a question that had been haunting him.

You're so in love that you acted insane And that's the way I loved you

Klaus didn’t dare think about Y/N with her new boyfriend, knowing that if he pictured her like that, he would go insane. Well, more insane than he already was.

The idea of her loving someone other than him was heartbreaking. He had been so in love with her, still was, that it had driven him crazy. The day she had come to him and told him that they were over, Y/N had crushed his soul. But he forgave her for that, would take her back in an instant. She was the only one that could fix him again, the only one that could make him whole.

Even if she wasn’t in love with him anymore, she would still be in his life, and that would be good enough for him at this point. Anything would be good enough, as long as he knew that she was okay.

In a thousand years, Klaus had never felt about anyone the way he felt about Y/N. He had never written as many letters as he had, and he still remembered the last one he had sent.

Always and forever yours. There was never a truer statement.

His thumb hovered over the call button. One more attempt, and then that would be it.

Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller coaster kind of rush

Klaus knew it was pointless, but he needed to keep trying. He needed a miracle, for Y/N to answer the phone instead of that automated machine, that nuisance voice telling him that the number had been disconnected.

He had never been driven to such a point of desperation before, unable to find logic among his feelings of love.

His thumb hovered. What if she did answer? What if, by some miracle, Y/N spoke to Klaus and told him the thing he had been dreading? What if she told him that she never wanted to speak to him again?

He wasn’t sure if it was worse than not hearing from her at all.

Klaus Mikaelson had always been a risk taker – he had shown that during their relationship, taking Y/N on incredible dates, always getting a boost whenever she told him that that was one of the many reasons she loved him.

One last attempt. He would make one last call, and if there wasn’t a letter waiting for him when he got home, he would give up.

He would let her go.

He pressed the button, a pit forming in his stomach, his heart threatening to break all over again.

And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you

I’m sorry, the number you are trying to call is unavailable.

Klaus closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of exasperation as he was met with that damned robotic voice. This was it. This would always be the moment he lost Y/N forever.

He took the phone away from his ear, and put it back in his pocket. He was numb, not quite knowing what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, knew that he wanted to kill every person walking past him on the street, but couldn’t muster the energy.

He felt useless, and it was an effort just to walk. It was an effort to make the journey back home, back to a room that he should have shared with Y/N. He looked through every person that he saw, not seeing them as people, just things in his way.

He had lost the person he loved, and it was worse than death.

And then his eyes landed on something he didn’t quite expect. He thought he was dreaming when he registered the figure standing at the end of the street, looking at him like he was a ghost. The figure’s lips were parted and her eyes were wide as she stared at him. Klaus stared right back at her.

Y/N.

Masterlist

#TVD #tvd imagine #tvd imagines #the vampire diaries #to #the originals #the originals imagine #the originals imagines #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagines #klaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson imagines #niklaus mikaelson imagine #niklaus mikaelson x reader #Joseph Morgan

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lavellander · 3 years

Text

hello im feeling extra “touch the stove”-y today so. i was looking for any dialogue where solas just straight up lies and (of what i could find online/transcribed, obv) i didnt find anything that was 100% untrue. he’ll completely avoid the question, change the subject, give part of the truth, etc etc etc, but nothing was just Entirely A Lie

what really gets me is that there’s a handful of convos where someone infers something from what solas says, and he will even point out that he didn’t directly say that. like, he tells people how to see through his shit, lmao

here is an embarrassingly long ass list of examples, all sorted by what kind of not-lying he’s doing lol, just bc i am unhinged<3

*note that some of these are cut from longer bits of dialogue or have been split up from one conversation into different categories*

literally just Not Answering The Question lol

Dorian: How much “will” do they have? They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade. Solas: Hmm.

Dorian: Solas, have I offended you? Solas: If you have, why would it concern you?

Dorian: Solas, what is this whole look of yours about? Solas: I’m sorry? Dorian: No, that outfit is sorry. What are you supposed to be, some kind of woodsman? Dorian: Is it a Dalish thing? Don’t you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some kind of statement? Solas: No.

Dorian: Let me get this straight, Solas. Dorian: You’re an apostate – neither Dalish nor city elf – who lived alone in the woods studying spirits. Solas: Is that a problem for you?

Solas: [has a whole tactical moment about the red jennies lmao] Sera: Where d’you get all this, then? Solas: Do you wish to be unnerved by another tale of my explorations of the Fade? Or do you wish to learn something?

Vivienne: You must be pleased with what was revealed at the Temple of Mythal, Solas. Solas: Why should those ruins please me, Enchanter?

changing the subject before he backs himself into a corner

Gatt: I don’t see any tattoos, but you’re carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle? Solas: No. And I would prefer not to discuss it.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What’s so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter.

giving the truth, but not the whole truth

Blackwall: Skyhold. How did you find it? Solas: I looked. Blackwall: Now you sound like Cole. You looked? Solas: This world is full of wonders for those who seek them.

Blackwall: You spoke of seeing death and destruction. Did you fight in a war? Solas: There are struggles across Thedas at any given time. I doubt you would have heard of it. Blackwall: An elven skirmish? Solas: In a manner of speaking, yes.

Cassandra: Solas, have you always lived alone? Out in the wilderness, as an apostate? Solas: For the most part.

Cassandra: Have you ever encountered templars before? Solas: Only at a distance. I am an apostate, after all. Cassandra: And they never caught you even once? Solas: I am a very careful apostate.

Dorian: We found elves, living ancient elves, at the Temple of Mythal. Does that bother you, Solas? If Inquisitor allied with the Sentinels: Solas: I am pleased we were not forced to kill them, if that’s what you mean.

Iron Bull: You’ve got an odd style, Solas. Your spells are a bit different from the Circle mages or the Vints. Solas: That comes from being self-taught. Solas: I discovered most of my magic on my own, or learned it from my journeys in the Fade.

Vivienne: So, an apostate? Solas: That is correct, Enchanter. I did not train in your Circle.

Solas: You are a man who made a choice... possibly the first of your life. Iron Bull: I’ve always liked fighting. What if I turn savage, like the other Tal-Vashoth? Solas: You have the Inquisition, you have the Inquisitor... and you have me.

from cutscene at beginning Inquisitor: [mentions the anchor closing a rift] Solas: Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct.

from cutscene at beginning Solas: [to a Dalish Inq] You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here? Inquisitor: What do you know of the Dalish? Solas: I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. Inquisitor: [Crossed paths? dialogue choice] Solas: I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.

from “I’d like to know more about you” convo in Haven Inquisitor: What made you start studying the Fade? Solas: I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined. I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome.

actually telling the truth but no one picks up on the gravity of it

Solas: [...] I believe the elven gods existed, as did the old gods of Tevinter. But I do not think any of them were gods, unless you expand the definition of the word to the point of absurdity. I appreciate the idea of your Maker, a god that does not need to prove his power. I wish more such gods felt the same. Cassandra: You have seen much sadness in your journeys, Solas. Following the Maker might offer some hope. Solas: I have people, Seeker. The greatest triumphs and tragedies this world has known can all be traced to people.

Cole: No, inside. I don’t hear your hurt as much. Your song is softer, subtler, not silent but still. Solas: How small the pain of one man seems when weighted against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples.

Cole: You didn’t do it to be right. You did it to save them. Inquisitor: Solas, what is Cole talking about? Solas: A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything.

Solas: Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more “innocent” than your own Tevinter in its time. Solas: Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless.

Solas: Our people used to be here. Sera: Pfft, you say that everywhere. Solas: It is more true than you want to believe.

Vivienne: You must be pleased, apostate. With the Templars dissolved, your rebels will be most difficult to pacify. Solas: My rebels? Am I an agent for their cause, whispering poison into the Inquisition’s ears? Solas: How comforting. Vivienne: You enjoy seeing yourself as a villain? Solas: No more than any other clever man who wonders what he could do if pushed.

Vivienne: [about the Temple of Mythal] Now you know the elves were once a mighty nation. Solas: I always knew, Enchanter. The Temple of Mythal is just another reminder of what was lost.

(in the Emerald Graves): These forests have changed much since I was last here.

during the Fade!Haven cutscene Solas: It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change. Inquisitor: [romance option] “Felt the whole world change?” Solas: A figure of speech. Inquisitor: I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in felt. Solas: You change... everything.

pointing out that people assume he means things he did not directly say

Cole: There is pain though, still within you. Solas: And I never said there was not.

Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it. Cole: When did you see it before? Solas: I did not say that I had.

Iron Bull: We’ve got the alliance with my people. Given how much you love the Qun, I figured... Solas: I might scold you? Berate you for your decisions? Iron Bull: Hey. The Chargers died as heroes for the good of the mission. Solas: I never said otherwise.

Sera: Don’t you start. Solas: I’m reasonably certain I said nothing.

Vivienne: [talking shit about grey warden mages] Solas: I never claimed mages should be above the law, Enchanter. Vivienne: No, darling. You merely implied it, while offering no viable suggestions for improvement.

after infamous “side benefits” dialogue Warrior Inquisitor: You find my muscles enjoyable? Solas: I meant that you enjoyed having them, presumably. Warrior Inquisitor: Ah. Solas: But yes... since you asked.

diminishing things he does actually know by saying he he “believes” or “thinks,” or that things were vaguely “said” or “told”

Solas: I say what I believe to be true, even if it gives offense to those who prefer the lie.

Dorian: That orb Corypheus carries... are you certain it’s of elven origin, Solas? Solas: I believe so. Why do you ask?

Solas: It is said that we lived at a pace that sustained us for... ages.

making it sound like he’s talking about something/someone else, but it’s just him lmao

Cole: Do you know a lot about wolves? Solas: I know that they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts.

Solas: No man can kill so many people without breaking inside. To survive... those you fight must become monsters. Iron Bull: The ones that kill innocent people, yeah. The rest... I don’t know. Solas: The mind does marvelous things to protect itself.

during In Hushed Whispers Inquisitor: I’m glad you understood what he just said because I’m not sure I did. Solas: You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.

misc

this one i wanted to include because it’s the only circumstance (that i came across) where someone directly asks solas to lie and he literally says he can’t

during the fucking crestwood breakup scene Inquisitor: [angry option] Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. Inquisitor: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted son of a bitch and move on! Solas: I’m sorry.

*also note that most of these are banter transcriptions from the wiki; some are cutscene / other dialogue posted by either @/daitranscripts or u/karinini on reddit; it’s not all his cutscenes obv, but I’m not about to look up every single one individually sdlkfj*

#i am................incredibly embarrassed that i did this #forgive me. the brain worms would not leave until it was Done #also sorry that its ugly no matter what i did tungle was NOT happy w my formatting. just know its clean and easy to read in my mind :/#and i know none of this is new information but i am riddled with terminal grad student brain disease so i like having my evidence organized #long post #(bc its long as hell if u open the read more)#im going to put this in my #ref #tag. bc i sometimes get tripped up writing his dialogue to be cryptic but true

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

- Chapter 6 -

For his trip to the Cloud Recesses, Wen Chao was assigned a bodyguard of his own, a man introduced to them as Wen Zhuliu – not his actual name, of course. Wen Ruohan handed out his surname like a gift, spreading his poison to as many people as possible, and this Wen Zhuliu was apparently one of his most highly prized finds.

“They call him the Core-Melting Hand,” Wen Xu told the children. “And it’s not an exaggeration – he has a technique that can actually melt a person’s golden core.”

Personally, Nie Mingjue thought that techniques like that, however frightening, were all a bunch of trash in the end – a technique of that sort was flashy, impressive, but it had only two uses: to scare people or to turn the tide of a single battle against fellow cultivators, and for the run-of-the-mill work of night-hunts was totally pointless. It required such immense focus and dedication to puzzle out that it left no room for anything else, meaning this Wen Zhuliu probably didn’t know how to do anything practical, even as he thought himself better than others.

The man looked it, too. His face seemed older than he probably actually was in years, with an expression of detachment and ennui that made him come off as arrogant, or at minimum as snobbish, despite being nothing more than a tool for Wen Ruohan to use up and cast aside.

He’d probably be a bad influence on Wen Chao, Nie Mingjue thought, frowning to himself. He would need to have a word with Wen Chao before he left – tell him to trust his own instincts, to avoid things that made him uncomfortable, to reach out to trustworthy adults in the Lan sect if he thought he needed help. Even if this Wen Zhuliu wanted to make trouble on Wen Ruohan’s behalf, it would be difficult for him to act if Wen Chao used his youth and desire to please his father as an excuse to obey the rules…

A hand touched his shoulder and Nie Mingjue flinched, his hand flying to Baxia’s hilt – he was never without her comforting weight anymore – but it was only Wen Xu, looking as anxious as ever.

“It’s lunch,” he said, and Nie Mingjue blinked, noticing that they were now alone in the hall. He must have lost time again, sinking into his thoughts without tracking the world outside. A dangerous habit anywhere, even more so in Qishan, but on the other hand it wasn’t like he was being allowed out for night-hunts right now – the danger here was only internal, and Wen Ruohan found his suffering funny. “I asked them to make lamb skewers with cumin.”

A Qinghe specialty. Nie Mingjue appreciated the gesture.

“Wen Zhuliu,” he croaked, his voice rasping as if he had just been screaming. Maybe he had been. It hadn’t been that long since the last ‘walk’ through the Fire Palace that Wen Ruohan had invited him on – they were a regular part of the routine, now. Wen Ruohan’s own personal indoctrination since the usual sorts of things didn’t seem to be working well enough on Nie Mingjue.

Maybe if he could keep thinking of it that way, as some twisted form of education, then perhaps the horror of the things he saw and, worse, was made to do – the choices he was forced to make, the things he had to do to innocent people with his own hands, the things that were sometimes done to him as an example, the screams, whether his own or others, that incessantly rang in his ears, the feeling afterwards that he would never be clean again – perhaps it would eventually become merely mundane. Maybe. Probably not.

It might be worse if it did, actually.

“What about Wen Zhuliu?” Wen Xu asked, interrupting Nie Mingjue’s increasingly dark thoughts, and Nie Mingjue shook his head to clear it.

“He’ll be trouble,” he said.

Wen Xu frowned. “You think so? He’s just a bodyguard.”

Nie Mingjue shook his head a second time. It was evident to him that Wen Zhuliu was being sent to ensure that the Lan sect taught Wen Chao only as much – or as little – as Wen Ruohan preferred; otherwise, there was no need for such a powerful servant, with a frightening aura and an older man’s authority, to chaperone Wen Chao. Especially not to such a peaceful place, backed by the Lan sect’s guarantee of safety.

Wen Chao had only so very recently started acting like a person, thinking of others and considering questions of right and wrong beyond his own selfish desires – leaving him alone with Wen Zhuliu threatened that.

Nie Mingjue was sure of it.

“I’ll talk to A-Chao about it, then, warn him of the sorts of tricks he might play,” Wen Xu said. He would know them best, of course. “And I’ll make room for you to talk to him as well, if you feel able. Maybe I can get us permission to escort them some part of their journey, you and I…it’d be good for you to stretch your legs a little.”

Get you out of here for a while, he meant, and Nie Mingjue shrugged. Even if Wen Xu won permission for him to leave, which he doubted he’d be able to, in the end Nie Mingjue would have to come back, back to Wen Ruohan and his Fire Palace, back to all the people who depended on him.

Nie Huaisang, Wen Chao, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, even Wen Xu…

He was their big brother. He had a responsibility to them, just the same as he’d had ever since his father put Nie Huaisang into his arms for the first time, love chaining him more effectively than any iron.

He had to come back.

After all, if he didn’t go walking with Wen Ruohan, someone else might have to, and that was just – intolerable.

“I need help planning a murder,” Wen Xu announced as he swept in through the door in a swirl of intricately designed red robes, and Nie Mingjue wondered grumpily what type of dramatic actor he had been in a past or future life that made him quite so inclined to extravagant gestures. “Well, don’t all of you jump up and volunteer to help at once!”

Everyone reluctantly turned to look at him. Wen Ning was playing weiqi with Nie Mingjue while Nie Huaisang pretended to meditate as Wen Qing examined his meridians for any courses of treatment that might make cultivating easier on him; no one was especially moved by Wen Xu’s grandiose proclamation.

Maybe if he didn’t say something similar just about every other week…

“Who are we murdering today, Wen-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, cracking an eye open and very obviously asking more to have a reason to stop even the pretense of meditation rather than any actual interest in the answer. “One of the teachers, or the soldiers, or a guard, or someone that stepped on your foot in the marketplace –”

“Wen Zhuliu,” Wen Xu said, and Nie Mingjue put down the weiqi piece he’d been toying with abruptly, with a smack that shook the table.

“What did he do?” he asked, concerned. “Is A-Chao all right?”

“He’s fine, if a bit shaken,” Wen Xu said. “Wen Zhuliu took him to a brothel.”

“He did what,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Unfair,” Nie Huaisang said. “I want to visit a brothel.”

“I’m fairly sure he wasn’t there on an educational visit, Huaisang-xiong,” Wen Qing said. “Or, at least, not in terms of a literary education.”

“Oh. Ick. No thanks, then.”

Wen Xu was gnashing his teeth together. “He wants to make a waste out of him. Fancy restaurants, a gambling house – I insisted we leave as soon as I realized – and now a brothel…if I hadn’t put a stop to it, A-Chao would be addicted to every vice available by the time he got to the Lan sect. They’d kick him out within a week!”

“He wouldn’t be able to challenge your position if he were a waste,” Wen Ning observed quietly. “If you were more like your father, you might even thank him for getting rid of a rival.”

“But why now?” Nie Mingjue asked, shaking his head. “A-Chao’s still so young. Playing around at that age can injure the body.”

It probably fucked up your head, too. Wen Ruohan’s specialty.

“If A-Ning is right about the motive, that’s the sort of injury one might want to inflict,” Wen Qing said. “Boys that young can’t get women pregnant, and overdoing it too young can damage them, keep them from having children in the future. Not to mention the impact on their adult personalities; it might turn him into a lascivious beast, unable to take no for an answer, or else retard him in childhood, injure him with trauma – or all of the above. Or none, of course, some people are fine, but it’s not something you want to take a chance on.”

“You put a stop to it, right?” Nie Mingjue asked Wen Xu, who nodded.

“I explained at some length to A-Chao how exactly one gets infected with lin bing,” he said. “Bleeding sores on your prick and all…in fact, I may have overdone it a bit. I’m not sure he’s even willing to look at a woman right now.”

“Good thing he’s off to the Cloud Recesses, then,” Nie Huaisang said, pitiless in the ways of the young. At least, Nie Mingjue hoped that was the reason, and not Qishan Wen cruelty seeping into his bones. “Don’t they split up men and women?”

“I knew Wen Zhuliu was trouble,” Nie Mingjue said, deciding to sidestep the current conversational subject. “We should write to the Lan sect – Xichen will be able to recruit his uncle to help stop anything like that going forward. Though I still want to know why Sect Leader Wen would do such a thing to A-Chao now. Haven’t I reduced my level of influence on you enough?”

He got a whole array of pitying looks that suggested his supposed ‘influence’ on them – mentioned several times by Wen Ruohan, and just as inexplicable to Nie Mingjue as it had been the first time it had come up, even though everyone else seemed to automatically know what was meant by it – was not only still existent but running stronger than ever.

“Well, fine,” he said, scowling at the traitors who refused, to a man (and woman), to explain anything. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t understand what they were always not-saying to each other about it. “But the point still stands. Why now? Why this way?”

“It’s his first time leaving the Nightless City without the usual retinue,” Wen Qing said. “And he’ll be staying at the Cloud Recesses for a few months. If he gets used to the outside world without going off-course, it may be harder to lure him into vice later. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence?”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said.

“If we’re very lucky, it’s not a coincidence, but has nothing to do with us at all,” Nie Huaisang put in. “There may be more that we don’t yet know.”

The ‘more’ turned out to be a very well-off young lady, closely connected to several of the cultivation families in Henan – in the area right between Qishan Wen, the remnants of Qinghe Nie, and Lanling Jin – moving into the Nightless City as Wen Chao’s future bride.

Nominally, anyway.

In reality, her ‘bridal’ suite became a regular stop on Wen Ruohan’s daily schedule, and the extremely audible sounds of their romping had everyone chewing ginger in an attempt to avoid vomiting.

“There goes any hope of another girl for me to spend time with,” Wen Qing said with a sigh.

“What? I’m not good enough for you?” Nie Huaisang huffed, mock-offended. “How many girlish arts to I have to excel in, huh? I dress neat, I embroider, I…uh…”

She poked him in the forehead. “I was just saying that it might be nice to have someone else, that’s all. Ideally someone who is actually my gender. But I’m not anywhere desperate enough to spend time with someone like that.”

The young lady in question, Ma Liyuan, was arrogant and self-absorbed, closer to Nie Mingjue’s age – or maybe even Wen Xu’s, he hadn’t asked – than to Wen Chao’s, and seemed quite content with the circumstances that had brought her to and kept her in the Nightless City, provided that she was kept well supplied in new clothing and make-up. The morality, or lack thereof, of fucking her engaged-in-absentia fiancé’s father on the regular appeared not to matter in the slightest.

“I’m happy that she’s here,” Nie Mingjue said, and when they all looked at him strangely, he elaborated, “She’s been very distracting.”

He hadn’t had to go on anymore ‘walks’ with Wen Ruohan since she arrived, since there was really only so much time to spare for extracurricular activities in the busy schedule of a Sect Leader, and his mental state had improved dramatically as a result. He didn’t like the fact that his reprieve came at Wen Chao’s expense – at least Wen Chao was safely away in Gusu for the moment, and didn’t have to endure the wretched humiliation of it in person – but he couldn’t deny that it was, in fact, a reprieve.

“It won’t last,” Wen Xu predicted gloomily. “It never does, with his lovers. Father only ever cares about power; he’s fucking the promise of Henan land, not her, though I assume he also enjoys demeaning her in every way he can think of in the process. Honestly, I don’t know why Father didn’t just take her on as one of his own concubines if he was planning on doing this – why the charade?”

“Another plan to get A-Chao out of the line of succession?” Wen Ning suggested.

“Seems like too much effort for just that,” Wen Qing said, and Nie Mingjue nodded, agreeing. Wen Ruohan didn’t need a reason to disinherit somebody, but even if he wanted one, he only needed one, not a half-dozen.

“Perhaps he just wants A-Chao to become disappointing,” Nie Huaisang said, his chin on his hands. “To us, I mean, not to him. A-Chao’s prickly, you know – if you mixed together those vices he’s being tempted with and the humiliation he must feel when he hears about what’s going on here, he might get himself into something stupid. And then, well, you know A-Chao would be heartbroken if we turned away from him, and you know he’s not the most independent person. All he’d have left is him.”

“But we wouldn’t turn away from A-Chao even if he did disappoint us,” Nie Mingjue objected. “I’d break his legs if he tried to turn into some drunken wastrel, of course; scold him, refuse to let him out of his room, make him reflect and write reasons why he needed to stop, train him into the ground if necessary, but that’s hardly turning away from him. Who’d do something like that?”

Everyone looked at him fondly, as if he was a puppy that just performed a unique trick.

Nie Mingjue scowled at them. Hadn’t they respected him, once? Or was that his imagination?

“It’s a reasonable thought,” Wen Xu said, apparently opting to ignore Nie Mingjue’s view on the subject. “Divide and conquer is my father’s preferred method of attack, along with forcing people to suppress their own morals in order to reach a temporary compromise that he’ll only break further the next time. With Mingjue-xiong injured –”

He was fine. Physically, anyway. The mental scars didn’t count.

“– and A-Chao temporarily gone, his next goal will be one of us, no doubt. Perhaps we should preempt him.”

“Oooh, are we staging a fight?” Nie Huaisang asked, perking up. “I call spectator. Fight! Fight!”

Nie Mingjue reached over and tugged on his hair. “If there’s going to be a fight between the four of you, you are definitely getting involved, and not as a spectator. And speaking of fighting, Huaisang, where is your saber? Have you been practicing?”

Everybody laughed.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen ning #wen qing #my fic #my fics #fire and light

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vendettaparker · 3 years

Text

Where’s My Love: Chapter 2- A Second Chance [T.H]

Summary: Tom learns what it feels like to watch a flower die; though I suppose a heart that is broken is a heart that was loved. Harrison reminds everyone about the finality of death.

Word Count: 4.7k of pure pain

Warnings: Angst (like the most i’ve ever written; which is saying something), mentions of sex, mentions of alcoholism, depression, cursing, character death, unhealthy grieving, grief in general, very very small mention of/hint to suicide (it’s extremely brief and you might even miss it, but it’s there)

a/n: i lowkey am kinda sorry about how sad this is. i’m just now realizing how sad this series is going to be as a whole (today i came up with a new plot idea and it made me cry just thinking about it so...), anyways, technically you could argue that this has a happy ending, so theres that to look forward to :) also you’re my best friend if you catch the WandaVision reference! reblogs, likes, and feedback is extremely appreciated! this series hasn’t been doing great in the notes department :( i’m still gonna write it obvi, but anything helps with the motivation, thanks <3 ps. thanatos is the god of death

Series Masterlist| Main Masterlist

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Tom,” You smiled up at your husband, eyes shining in the moonlight and heart swelling with love. “We should go home soon. There’s still more to be done tonight.”

Tom smirked and tilted your face up, capturing your soft lips in a heated kiss, tongue slipping in and clashing with yours. He pulled away after a while of savoring your taste, lips pink and swollen, “You’re right, darling. There’s still so much to do tonight.” Tom lips travelled further down to your jawline, where he kissed, nipped, and sucked, leaving a dark pink love bite.

You whimpered and tugged at his unruly curls, bringing his lips closer to your sweet spot. Tom chuckled and littered kisses and marks all up and down your collar bones. You brought his face up to yours and kissed him, practically shoving your mouth onto his in a clash of teeth and tongue.

Tom pulled away and groaned, “You’re gonna be the death of me, love.” His eyes darkened with arousal and you smirked, knowingly.

Your breathing slowed and you giggled, pushing him away gently, “Then we better get to it, lover.”

Tom stood up from where you were both lying, holding a hand out to help you up as well. You placed your hand in his and basked in the warmth of his touch. Something so simple as holding hands was enough to make you feel electric. Bursts of tingles and butterflies filled your body. You felt like you were on fire, burning up with the desire to feel him, touch him, and just love him.

All the while, an evil in the form of Aristaeus watched from the shadows, his disdain growing for Tom by the minute. He watched as Tom held you close, as he seized every opportunity to kiss you. His hatred for the son of Apollo only deepened when he saw how your eyes shone and how your smiled grew in his presence. How perfect you looked and how all the intimacy and love you possessed was now only for Tom. You were only for Tom, and Aristaeus just couldn’t have that.

Watching Tom’s smile and listening to his care-free laugh, he knew that he needed to feel that. He needed the source of that type of happiness.

Aristaeus waited in the shadows for his moment to take what he wanted. Dagger clutched in his hand and blade sharpened, ready for use. The moment he saw you and Tom stand up and begin the journey back to your villa, he knew the time was now.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

With your hand clasped tightly in Tom’s, you began the trek back to the villa you’d purchased for the two of you. You swung your hands up with Tom’s as you both happily made your journey in comfortable silence.

You reveled in the way his hand felt in yours. Warm, encasing your entire being in warmth. It was so simple, just his hand clutching yours, holding your hand and your heart. There are only so many ways to describe love, and his hand in yours said more than any empty words could.

Your peacefulness was interrupted when you heard a shuffling in the wooded area you were walking through. The bush you were passing shook and soon Aristaeus launched out of it, dagger in hand, aimed at Tom. You screamed and Tom pushed you away to keep you away from the evading blow.

Tom dodged the attack, swiftly throwing a punch to the offender's jaw, momentarily stunning him. Tom grabbed your hand, and began running through the woods. You could hear the shouts and curses of Aristaeus behind you, quickly gaining speed on the gravelly road.

In an attempted detour, you ran through the thicket, hoping the thick mixture of branches and thorns would diverge the route of the crazed man chasing you. The thrones pricked at your skin and scratched up your face. Tom was no better, hand slowly loosening up on yours due to the pain of the thrones scrapping up his arms.

“Tom!” You yelped, tripping on a small log. The momentum of the fall ripping your hand from his, leaving his cold. Tom, stressed and frantic, kept running, unaware of the fact that you were no longer behind him.

“Come on (Y/N)! We’re almost home!” Tom yelled back, seeing the light of a clearing just up ahead. Tom jumped through the last few branches, breathing heavily once he reached the other side of the woods. He ended up in a meadow, close to your home. Tom turned around to hug you and make sure you were alright, but you were nowhere to be found.

“Love, we made it! Look, our villa’s right over ther—” Tom cut himself off, realizing he was now alone.

Tom began walking back into the woods, a sharp shot of anxiety ran up his spine. Why wouldn’t she follow me? He thought, is she hurt? Tom continued, his thought quickly being interrupted by a pained scream.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!?” Tom ran where he heard the scream and then the whimpers. His heart dropping to his stomach, bile rising. He finally found you, laid out in a pile of daisies, leg purple and bruised, small drops of blood coming from two puncture wounds in your leg.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened, and the snake slithering away from your limp body told Tom all he needed to know.

Aristaeus had fled upon seeing you. He too knew, and he even saw with his own eyes, what had happened. The viper dug in deep and long, the poison immediately taking effect on you.

“(Y/N)? Fuck, darling?” Tom crouched down to your still body. He didn’t want to believe what he was seeing, he didn’t want to believe the pained look in your eyes, or the tears welled up in his. “It’s okay, love. You’re alright. Can you move? Can you get up? Please?”

Tom did his best to help you up, but you were limp, no movement in your entire body, only your eyes showed the fear you were feeling.

“Tom,” you mumbled, tears streaming down your cheeks, “I-I can’t feel anything.” You cried softly, your face almost stoic from the poison coursing through your veins.

“No, no, darling. You can feel me, right?” Tom grabbed your limp hand and squeezed, expecting a squeeze in return. Yet nothing came, your hand remained cold and limp in his.

You choked out a sob, “I can’t feel you.” Tears streamed down the side of your face, soaking the ground beneath your head, leaving small weeds in their wake.

Tom let out a painful whimper at your words. “Darling, it’s okay, we’re okay. Yeah? We’re gonna go home, and then you can lay down and get better, okay? I’ll bring you tea and flowers and Paddy will come over and play chess with you. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Tom’s tears soaked into your now cold skin, momentarily warming it.

“Yeah…” you mumbled softly, tears slowing and breath hitching.

“Yeah, and t-then Sam can come over and bring your favorite meal, o-or maybe a cake? And Harrison can work on your garden, so it won’t be limp when you get better. And I'll serenade you every night, even after you’re well, because I love you. And we’re gonna make it through this, just hold on.”

His words faded in and out, beginning to sound muffled and underwater. Your head tilted to the side, clearly seeing the immeasurable pain etched onto his features. Tom caught your gaze and still, still tried to manage a small, hopeful smile. Deep down Tom knew this was pointless, he knew you wouldn’t ever make it home to see the villa, or the gift he left in the garden. The golden potted plant—an orchid—was now going to be a constant reminder to what he lost. But he could fake it, and fuck, he was going to fake it like it was real.

He would trick himself for the rest of his life until he truly believed you were okay. But he wouldn’t have to wait that long, because sitting there, holding your near lifeless body in his arms, he was ready to believe anything that even remotely implied you were okay.

Just past Tom you could see a figure watching you from the shadows. His suit was black and his white hair was gelled back. He stepped out of the shadows and tapped his foot impatiently, as if waiting for your time to be up. And then it hit you. You knew this man—or rather this god.

“Thanatos…” you whispered, eye’s finally glazing over with lifelessness. The now once bright and vibrant eyes, now dull and empty. A mere shell of what they once were.

“No, no, no!” Tom screamed, his painful wails being heard by the whole town. “No! (Y/N), come back! Please, please, please, please, please…”

You were now standing away, a lonely spectator to the happenings in the woods on this mortal realm.

“Come, child.” Thanatos held his hand out, ready to lead you away.

“But I never got to say goodbye.” Your eyes welled up with tears, seeing Tom frantically shake your body, trying to bring you back to life. “I never got to live my life with him.”

Thanatos gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze, “We must go now. Don’t worry, little one. You will see him again.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊

Tom didn’t move. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep. He wished he didn’t even breathe. He sat in the villa and stared at the now dying orchid, limp and sickly, in the golden pot. You never even got to see it, he thought, you would’ve loved it.

All of Tom’s thought’s surrounded you, and how he could no longer hold you. He felt so cold, he found no joy in things he used to. And all he wanted to do was cry. But he couldn’t. He’d cried himself dry over the past three days. Now all he felt was pain, and he couldn’t even ease it with tears.

“Tom,” Harrison snapped him out of his daze, pulling his gaze away from the dying orchid. “It’s time.”

Tom let out a breath, pained and labored. Today was the day. The day your body would be laid to rest. The day that you would truly be lost to him.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

Tom groggily pulled himself from the bed. He dressed slowly and carefully, wanting to look his best for the last time he’d see you. Every intake of breath hurt his head, another painful reminder that he was here and you weren’t. He was alive, and you were gone.

The clearing that he once found solace in was cold. The flowers around him were limp and dying, and the world just looked gray. The color was gone from his eyes and all he could think was, it should’ve been me.

Paddy hadn’t spoken a word since he heard of your death. He hardly even looked at Tom, every time he did the young boy would tear up and look away, too embarrassed of his tears to let them be seen. But in the dark, in the comfort of his bed, he cried for you. His first encounter with death, and it had to be you. His heart hurt more than his young mind could comprehend; he could hardly imagine what Tom was feeling.

Harry and Sam were numb. They hardly knew how to feel. They loved you like a sister but only knew you for a few months. Was it appropriate to mourn the loss of someone you only knew for a moment? Was it ignorant to fein a stoic exterior when your sister was gone? In the comfort of each other, the boys mourned. They cried a bit, but mostly tried their best to remember the good times. Harry remembered how you always backed him up in an argument, even against Tom, and how you always expressed how blessed you felt getting to know their family. Sam remembered how you always volunteered to be his test subject for his dishes. How you were always sweet, but honest. You fit so well into their lives, it was almost impossible to imagine you wouldn’t be in them anymore.

Harrison couldn’t believe it, or rather he didn’t want to. He held Tom close, and tried to convince him that everything was okay. He was the rock the group leaned on in any way they could.

He was a rock, and he was cracking. He found himself alone in clearing multiple times, watering the flowers, doing his best to keep them afloat, and yet they still withered away. He tried to feel you there, so he could tell Tom that maybe you weren’t truly gone, but all he felt was the absence of your presence.

Tom looked at the patch of dirt you laid under. He looked at it and all he felt was anger. Anger at Aristaeus for leading you to your death, anger at the viper that sealed your fate, anger at the gods for letting you be taken, and anger at himself for living through it.

The ceremony was short; just him and his brothers, gathered around a patch of dirt, crying.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Everyone was forced to cope. They all had their tricks to make the pain ease. Paddy would play chess by himself, wishing you were there for him to beat, but mostly remembering how many times you praised his amazing chess skills and made him feel special. Harry and Sam took on the duty of attempting to fix your garden in the clearing. They took shifts watering the plants and picking out the weeds.

Harrison smiled whenever he saw wild daisies. They always reminded him of you, partially for your pure innocence, but also because when you first met him, you gave him a flower crown made out of daisies. The crown was now limp and wilted, but he would treasure it until the day it withered away.

Tom suffered the most, though. He lost not only his soulmate, but his best friend. His coping consisted of copious amounts of alcohol to help him sleep, then he would see you in his dreams, and he’d have to drink more to stop from feeling the constant pit in his stomach growing with each baited breath.

“Tom, this isn’t healthy.” Harrison chided each time he walked into the murky depths of his bedroom; which was at least twice a day to check on the poor boy.

Harrison sat on Tom's bed as Tom laid on his stomach, facing away from him. Tom would grumble, then sniffle and completely ignore the presence of someone new in his room. The bed would be musty, his hair would be in knots, and his eyes would have a constant red rimmed appearance accentuated by the dark circles that resided underneath.

“Tom come on, let’s go for a walk. Sam and Harry fixed up the garden a bit; I think you’d like it.” Harrison shook Tom’s shoulder gently, prompting him to face the blonde.

“It won’t be the same.” Tom mumble, voice hoarse and wobbly.

“I know, but they worked hard on it. They’re grieving too, y’know?”

“Of course I fucking know.” Tom snapped, swatting Harrison’s hand away, “You think I don’t know how much of an impact she had on all of us? You think I don’t hear Paddy crying at night when he thinks he’s alone, or the way he refuses to look at me?”

“Tom—”

“You think I don’t know that this is my fault?” Tom sobbed, burning holes with his harsh gaze into Harrison. “I know, Haz. I know all too well how we’re all grieving.”

Tom broke down, heaving and rambling about how it was his fault, about how helpless you looked, and how broken he was. All Harrison could do was listen.

“She died in my arms, Haz. S-she curled up and just… died.” Tom spoke barely above a whisper, his crying ruining his voice. “She looked so scared and I couldn't help her. I couldn’t save her.”

“I know.” Harrison was crying now too, tears falling from his diamond eyes.

“It was supposed to be me. The attacker was after me. I-I should’ve taken the hit, and then she’d be alive.”

“No, Tom. You don’t know that that would’ve saved her from this fate.” Harrison scolded Tom’s reckless words. “She could’ve died a day later, or minutes later. Life is not a guarantee. Tom.”

“At least we would’ve been together.”

Harrison frowned, “In the underworld? And what type of existence would that have been?”

Some turned away from Harrison, “One where we would at least have each other.”

Harrison softened his gaze and held Tom close before he could protest, “You still have us. I know it’s not what we want right now, but it’s what you need. You can’t go through this alone; I won’t let you.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

As the weeks went by, Tom’s grief continued to eat away at him. Try all he might, he could never escape you. You were in all of his favorite things. His lyre now laid dusty and cold next to his bed, it hadn’t been touched since your wedding night.

He held it together as long as he could, but it was too much. The pain ripped away at him and ate him up. One day he reached his breaking point. He needed you to come home. He needed you in his arms. Nothing in this mortal world could ever compare to your sweet kisses and loving praises. Nothing would ever satiate him again.

How could this have happened? How could the gods have cursed him this way. He was a good man, he did all that was expected of him. He went above and beyond for his community, for others. He helped find and procure the fleece that placed Jason rightfully on the throne of Iolcus in Thessaly. His music cured lost souls, helped them find solitude and comfort in his songs. He did everything right. And yet the gods mock and torture him by taking you away. Ripping his other half from him, stealing you. The only comfort in his otherwise lonesome life. There’s no need for old age, sickness, or murder to take him away now; his grief will surely get the job done.

“Tom,” Harrison, spoke softly, taking in the man who’s broken soul was starting to shine through to his exterior appearance. His hair matted, eyes red and puffy, knuckles bruised from letting his anger out on the pillars over his home. What was supposed to be your home. Now the clay brick home was cold, your presence no longer there to bring natural warmth. “Tom, come on. You have to keep going.” Harrison put a hand on his friend's shoulder, giving it a hearty squeeze. “She wouldn’t want this for you. She loved you.”

“Then why was she taken from me?” Tom burst, hands flying to his hair, gripping his unruly curls. “Why would the gods allow this pain? I’ve done it all. I was so good, I-I did all that they asked of me.”

“Tom, please just come—”

“No! Harrison, don’t you see? I can’t move on! I can’t think about anything other than what was lost, what I lost. There must be a way to get her back. I’d do anything, just to hold her one more time. To love her, like it’s all I was put here on this Earth to do.” Tom pushed Harrison’s hand away. “Help me. Please, find a way.”

Harrison sighed sadly, rubbing his face with his hands. Tom, the most deserving person of his happy ending had it ripped from him, and there was nothing that could be done. Almost as if it was fate, there were no loopholes. Expect maybe—no. It was too risky. The god of the underworld was not a merciful man.

“Harrison? You have something?” Tom looked at his friend, a glint of barely visible hope in his eyes, the type that only the thought of you could bring. The look on Harrison’s face clearly showed that the gears in his head were turning. This look always brought about Harrison’s best ideas, or in this case, his only one.

“I— well, it’s not plausible.” Harrison debated. “You’d need your father’s help, and even so,” he whispered the last part “you’d need to go to the Underworld and bargain with Hades.”

Tom looked at his friend in shock? How could this be the only plan he’s come up with? A plan that would surely get Tom killed, or worse, turned into a lost soul. “What? No, no— there has to be another way. There are other gods—more merciful— who would help us.”

Harrison shook his head, “I’m sorry, Tom. But death? That’s final. The only god with the power to bring (Y/N) back is Hades. And he always has a price.”

Tom debated his options, one being the clear winner. He knew he couldn’t go on without you, he wasn’t strong enough. If he were less selfish then maybe he’d find a way to find joy again. But he needed you more than he needed the air in his lungs. He didn’t care if he was being selfish, trying to bring you back to a world that had just gotten used to life without you. He spent his whole life being selfless, helping others. It was time to get what he was due, what he was owed: His happy ending.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom paced and pondered, his restless mind a futile assistance in this matter. His thoughts only focused on you and how to bring you home. In the beginning, he took into account all of the risks he’d be taking going to the underworld and bringing you back. He’d need to enlist the help of his father, to persuade Hades to listen to his pleas. He’d need to safely get in and out of the Underworld with you entow, and the hardest part of all; he’d need Hades permission for you to come home.

It was not that Hades was cruel or unjust; he was just simply too fair. Death is final and Hades followed that order to a tee. He scarcely made exceptions and when he did there was always a price that needed to be paid. Usually, that price was worth the life of the soul being returned, a hefty sum.

Tom hardly worked out the intricacies of his plan before Harrison caught him, bag packed and determination scrawled across his face.

“Tom, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Harrison chided, standing in between Tom and the doorway.

“I’m getting her back, Haz. I need her home. You guys may be able to move on and be okay, but I can’t. She meant more to me than any of you will ever know.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, Tom.” Harrison spoke in a hushed whisper as to not alert the others to what was going on, “What happens then, huh? How do you think we will feel then? We already lost (Y/N), Tom; we can’t afford to lose you too.”

Tom’s eyes glistened with frustration and unshed tears, “but I’m not complete without her…” he whispered, sniffling. “I have to do what I can.”

“No, Tom. I’ve let this go on long enough.” Harrison spoke sternly, “You have to move on. I’m sorry because I know it’s not fair. I know that this shouldn’t have happened. It broke all of us. But you need to come back to us, okay? You need to move on with your life. Paddy is thirteen, Tom. He has no father-figure, he needs you. Harry and Sam have been by your side since they were babies, they need you. And you're my best friend, I need you. You don’t get to walk out on us because of your pain, because we never walked out on you. We were hurting, yet we stayed by your side. You need to do the same for us.” Harrison gave Tom a tightlipped smile, “Please, Tom. Just try.”

Tom had never seen such anguish in Harrison's eyes. He knew him and his brothers had also been struggling and he knew he was being selfish. He needed to do better.

“Okay,” Tom choked out, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I’ll try.” Tom placed his bag down on the floor and sat on the bed. He placed his face in his hands and sniffled out sobs. It was time for him to let you go.

Harrison left Tom alone in his dark room, shaking with anger. Once again the anger had returned, tenfold. Tom just wished he’d held your hand tighter, maybe then he’d be in your arms right now. Instead he was alone in his room, mind clouded with guilt and exhaustion.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Tom.” Your voice whispered in his ear, taunting him. Reminding him of what he lost. What he couldn’t save. The only one he couldn't save. The only one he needed to save.

“I’m right here, Tommy.” You never ceased. You constantly called to him as he tried his best to put his tortuous thoughts to rest. You stood over him, eyes wide in fear. You watched him, and you whispered.

“Tommy, why couldn’t you save me?”

You broke his heart all over again every night.

He sat up in his bed, body wet with sweat and eyes clouded with tears.

“(Y/N). Please, darling,” he begged, “I tried, please, I’m still trying.” You walked over and stood right above him, face inches apart. It was almost as if he could smell the sweet scent of flowers on you. The orchids and daisies you loved so much wafting over him, calming him. Until your cold, dead grip latched onto his shoulder.

“You failed, my love.”

Tom woke with a start, screaming and crying into the empty abyss of his room. You were nowhere to be found. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you back. You needed to come home and never leave his side ever again. If he had to spend one more day without you, he’d lose it. He’d become the monster he felt like on the inside. All the dark, twisty despair holed up in his heart would rush out in acts of unchecked rage and violence. He was never the villain, but he would be.

He couldn’t follow through with his promise to Harrison. He couldn't just move on and pretend that life made any sense without you, because it didn’t. Nothing made sense, and everything hurt.

Zeus created humans to have another half, and they would spend the rest of their lives if they had to, searching for it. You were Tom’s, and you were ripped away from him. That just won’t do.

He couldn’t spend another night lying awake, thoughts ripping apart his mind. He couldn’t sleep either, or else he’d see you. See what you’ve become. A ghost of happier times. A reminder of what never was and never will be. A figment of his ill fated mind.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The next morning, Paddy went into Tom’s room to bring him breakfast, as usual. It’s been months since he’s eaten with his brothers, and the new normal was one of them toughing it out and giving him his food in his room, then listening to his cries form outside the door for a moment, just to gauge if he was getting better; he never was.

Paddy was about to knock but paused before, gently pressing his ear up against the door. He didn’t hear crying like he usually did, he didn’t even hear sniffles.

Paddy hesitantly opened the door, afraid of what he might find. The silence was all too scary for the young boy. Once the door was fully opened Paddy got a good look around, not seeing Tom anywhere.

Paddy dropped the bowl of food on the floor and ran for Harrison.

“Harrison! Harrison! Sam! Harry! Anyone!” Paddy yelled out, running around the garden looking for the boys. He slammed into Harrison, who was just on his way to the garden.

The force knocked the wind out of a crying Paddy and slammed him into the ground.

“Woah,” Harrison breathed out, bending down to help Paddy up. Paddy gasped to catch his breath and attempted to stop the tears.

“What happened, kid?” Harrison rubbed his bruised back, “Come on, Paddy, breathe.”

“G-Gone…” Paddy wheezed out, “Tom’s gone.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

tags and moots: @justapurrcat @itsapeterthing @peterbenjiparker @kelieah @portraitoforion @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @cherrytholland @waitimcomingtoo @rosyparkers @iovebug @hollandcrush @celestialbarnes @blissfulparker @starktonyx @asonofpeter @keithseabrook27 @devildisguiseasangel @felicityparkers @selfcarecap

#tom holland #tom holland au #tom holland series #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #greek mythology fic #orpheus and eurydice

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fieryhonesty · 3 years

Text

The life of You

[AO3]

“This is funny I never planned this become multi chapter. Was meant only as chaptered oneshot (time to make a masterlist, huh) what can I promise you: this series will always have the banner where only name of specific chapters changes”

Words: 2479

Warning(s): rated this as mature on AO3 just cause it might turn whatever direction in future (I say might, not will 😳), already has swearing in and might get more (depends on situation I put characters in, we don’t swear without reason, right?), maybe suggestive innuendos

Perhaps you could have expected journeying with your ever so flirty friend would turn into one wild ride. Especially if the destination was Stormterror’s lair. As Dvalin was freed and the area is now accessible. The place piqued the curiosity of many. When Frostblade approached you if you were fancy to tag along. You were quite surprised as he didn’t seem like somebody who deliberately enjoys adventuring.

However after sharing his reason you quickly understood. Fatui started being active, the ones within city walls were seen in small groups. Debating about the honorary knight, no how people of Mondstadt were able to drive Stormterror away. They were scheming something, that’s for sure.

Maybe it hurt their imaginary pride or perhaps they had their own plans. Whatever it is, Kaeya wanted to be one step ahead. Seeing what was behind the wind barrier for so long was a good start. And who knows. Maybe he will be able to screw over Fatui plans.

Well that’s it if the area was not overly complicated. The ruins you had to explore first in order to get further into the lair were quite complicated. But the problem was you accidentally activated a trap and now each of you were standing at different sides of the bars which nearly skewered you.

Staring with wide eyes at the bars which were just a few inches away from your face. One step more and you would be goner. Gulping loudly. “Too close to my comfort.”

“Oh? And if it were me?” Letting out a sigh and shaking your head in disapproval. “Then I’d reconsider if giving you frostbite would be punishment enough. Anyway I’ll backtrack and try to find another way.”

---

More than you finding another way, the another way has found you. During your exploration you came across a ruin guard. Its eye light up in dangerous demeanor. If one thing could go wrong then it was probably meeting up with this walking hunk of steel. Corridors were too narrow for fighting.

You decided to run away from it, hoping it will either lose sight of you or get stuck somewhere. You had no idea where the hell you were running. But managed to end up in a dead end. However you noticed the wall was in a bad shape, feeling wind blowing between the bricks.

Charging elemental energy in your sword and hurling it forward, creating a hole. Big enough for you to get out. Finally getting out and breathing fresh air, your hair were ruffled by the blowing wind. Such a nice change after all that time spent in ruins where it smelled like- well mold and dust.

The noise of falling debris behind brought you back to reality. The ruin guard was making its way out. Following the intruder no matter what. Such a persistent thing. But at least now you can fight. Air got extremely cold as you summoned several cryo blades and dashed towards the machine. It tried to hit you but it’s too huge and slow to land a hit on you. Rolling to the side or jumping a bit back to avoid any kind of danger. No matter how much it tried, you were faster. Slashing here and there. Your attacks might not do much but there's way too many of them. Even the sturdy material those things are made off will slowly fall apart. Leaving the more vulnerable parts exposed. Nothing can work in such cold temperature as you were attacking it with.

Cutting one of its arms off. As it fell down, dust rose up. How heavy are those things? You better never find out. Sliding between its legs, leaving a thin slippery surface behind you, hoping it will slip and fall down. However the ice crushed under its weight. Well it was a good try?

Noticing how it turned around and kneeled. You had seen this once. Dashing behind a pillar and praying it will withstand the rockets. When you were sure no more explosives were coming your way. Jumping out of the hiding spot and seeing the Captain of Cavalry was having its attention. When did he get there?

You had exploited this situation and aimed one of the cryo blades at its weak spot on back which caused it to flinch. Kaeya didn’t waste any moment and used his own elemental power to hit its front eye, causing it to shut down. The damage caused by the both of you was enough for it to never initiate the auto recovery function. Leaving it in a half destroyed state forever.

Keaya has looked towards you and clapped.

“I knew I can rely on you, partner.”

“Technically it was you who was the game changer. How did you find me anyway? The exit is near by?” Chuckle coming out of the male’s chest. He walked closer to you, lips curled up into his usual smug.

“Princess, I’m not deaf you know. I heard distant noise and thought it might be my cute friend needing help. But I guess you were having fun, sorry for breaking your toy.”

The sarcasm in his voice was more than obvious. Rising your hand up towards him, saying ‘high five’ which made him chuckle once more. He was quite worried when each of you stood at different sides of bars. He felt responsible for your well being although he knew you can take care of yourself. You had to do it for half a decade anyway. Yet, something inside of him was making him anxious.

As the two of you reunited it was time to slowly explore the unknown area. It was quite peaceful there but also empty. There probably used to grow trees and more stuff but now it was just a few twigs here and there. The lair felt like one big crater with several ruins shattered around with one bigger at the entrance. To probably keep invaders off. That’s it if they could get through the wind barrier. But it was gone now, so of course you would meet something here.

Hilichurls had several camps around the whole area. Making you wonder if they were living here ever since or just recently moved in. Also wild animals, which was even weirder as you knew animals are sensitive to elemental energy. And just until recently there was a huge concentration of anemo.

To your surprise or maybe not, you had encountered a few more ruin guards. However as you are two it was no huge issue to deal with them. The only issue was it started raining during one of the encounters. Deciding it was kind of pointless to hide as your clothes were already wet so why not explore a bit more.

The fourth encounter with a ruin guard was quite more challenging for you than the rest. It seemed different than the others, it was bigger and more sturdier and hit like a truck. You were rubbing your wrist. It seemed alright however your sword didn't look so well. It was more than visible how the steel was slightly curved as you had to use it to block one of its attacks.

Looking up at Kaeya who was examining the destroyed colossus. Having a hand on his chin, thinking of something.

"Hmm, I just realized this is our second time being just the two of us and it's again raining." Rising his head and giving you a playful wink.

You just chuckled at his remark. He was not wrong. Ever since you got back you two didn't see each other that often. Kaeya was sort of avoiding you or so it seemed like. Until you accidently ran into him one day. You were hungry and decided to dine at Good Hunter. Before he could disappear you spoke up. Teasing him to yet again chickening out which obviously made him look back at you. Sometimes he is so easy to challenge.

In the end you sorted out everything over a double honey sticky roast. Talking about stuff like nothing, like you weren’t separated or anything. Since then you kept seeing each other here and now. Be at the tavern or when you were passing by the knights. Dropping by, knocking at doors and just exchanging a few words before you ran off to do your tasks.

"Still. It's so strange. Why is there so many of those oversized toys? And what's more strange. How the hell did Aether pass by without coming across any of them?!"

You pouted, arms crossed on your chest. When you come back to Monds you will have to ask the blonde.

"I wouldn't be surprised if this was Abyss Order's makings." The bluenette answered and pointed towards something that looked like a small cave. "Let's head there and rest."

The cave was big enough to fit both of you in. However the issue was you were soaked and there was no way to make fire. Unless Kaeya will magically pull out of nowhere a few dry sticks. Luckily you had packed a blanket which surprised the iceman. Scoffing at him.

"What? I am an adventurer now, might not be a fully fledged one. But still I'm always ready!"

"Always ready, huh."

His remark made you blush, you did not expect it. Well, maybe you did but still you reacted this way. ‘Why must he be like this?!’ Coughing a little.

"What I mean is. I always carry with me this little fuzzy blanket. It was my first thing I bought when I got here. And not once it proved to be useful. Also! I got some canned food!" You chirped happily.

Ok, this surprised him even more. When he asked you to accompany him on a small venture. He did not expect you to bring an entire survival kit. The bag was not even that huge. How do women stuff so many things into such small bags?

"Let me guess. You got there packed your entire bedroom." He joked as he took one of the cans from you. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, instead giving him a spoon.

Kaeya checked what's on the menu. Some veggies and ground meat. Not the fanciest thing he ever ate but better than nothing. All that fighting made him quite hungry after all. He won’t admit it but he quite enjoyed this little adventure with you. It’s been so long since he could fight side by side with his friend. The way you swung your blade and used the cryo vision to obliterate enemies. Color him impressed, not once he wanted to just whistle.

When you had finished the very modest lunch it was still raining which meant you will be stuck there for a while. You stood up to pull the blanket over your friend and realized it’s not that big as you thought. Sitting next to him, your shoulders were brushing against each other. For some reason you could feel heat in your cheeks. Rather looking outside, hoping he didn’t see it. Otherwise you can ready up for another wave of teasing.

"It's sad none of us have pyro, we could dry our clothes." You whined while trying not to shake.

Suddenly feeling Kaeya's breath at you ear. "Dear, that would require you to be naked for a certain period of time." He whispered in a teasy manner. You didn’t look at him but you are one hundred percent sure his smile is dangerously wide.

The way you groaned, ears turned red despite all of your efforts. Kaeya was more than satisfied. It took him awhile to find out how to make you feel embarrassed. Now he just found deliberate joy in teasing you all the time.

"You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that?" You murmured with an annoyed voice. Eyes still locked at cave entrance. How long will it take until it stops raining?

The sound of rain drops landing on the ground was quite relaxing. It didn't take long until you felt really sleepy. Trying to keep eyes open was close to impossible.

"Kaeya?"

The bluenette hummed in response.

"Talk to me or I will fall asleep..."

He did not want to admit it but he was already half asleep. The only thing which kept him awake was your occasional shaking. Silently chuckling as he turned head to you.

"I've got a better idea. Do you remember that one night when you were sleeping over and couldn't sleep. When I found you looking out of the window in the middle of night?"

Shaking your head, not remembering anything at all. Wondering how he can remember something like that.

"Well, we ended up watching out of the window together. Sitting on a chair while you were leaning on me. We fell asleep and the maids woke us up in the morning. Questioning why we weren't in beds."

Really? Did they? Why can't you recall anything like that? Giving Kaeya a confused look.

"How could we fit one chair-" As you finished it, the answer flashed through your mind. Finally you get what he meant with lean on him.

Not even giving it a second thought you shifted in front of him, hesitantly pressing your back on his chest. If you did this as kids then it clearly felt different than now. You were not sure if the warm feeling was caused by your flushed cheeks. Feeling like your entire body is burning right now. Or if it was because of how Kaeya put the blanket over the two of you and wrapped one hand around your waist.

"Don't mind that hand. I just want to have you secure.~"

"Secure for what?"

"In case you slide to side while sleeping, silly."

"I'm not going to sleep. It's embarrassing and worst is you are having fun!" You protested, pouting once again.

He could not deny the fact he found this whole situation amusing. Not even feeling guilty for his little lie. You are such a cutie when you are pouting like that

"The real embarrassing thing would be you shifting around and waking up my-"

"What the- Kaeya!" You groaned and wanted to get up but couldn't as his hand kept you in place.

"Shh, I'm just joking, Dearie. Relax. Let's just keep each other warm." Pulling you closer, feeling how your muscles relaxed a bit.

There was silence between you for a while. You were wishing he can't hear your heart beating so loud for no reason. The butterfly feeling in your stomach was lingering there for the whole time.

"You better not run your mouth about this to anyone, or..." You whispered silently, not even bothering to finish the sentence.

"Or? What's wrong about two friends being close, hmm?"

"I dunno." Admitting while completely relaxing against him and closing eyes. You are too tired to bother about anything.

Previous ✨ Next

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #i wonder where this will take us #f!reader #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact kaeya #diluc #kaeya #fiery series #what could go wrong?

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Trips. Yan Illumi x Reader [COMM]

Life brings with it new situations, impeding obstacles that need to be overcome.

Flexibility is the trait that allows such things to be navigated properly, to accept and work with the cards that you’ve been dealt. Unfortunately for you, this character trait has always seemed to be one of your greatest fallacies.

Why this incontestable fact wasn’t enough to deter Illumi, you would never know for certain. Determined is the word you found to fit his likeness the best. Illumi sought out on the long and cumbersome journey of sculpting you into his ideal masterpiece, chipping away at elements unfitting of his taste; while emphasizing any desirable traits.

Dehumanizing as it is, it’s your new reality. One that you never expected to be a chapter in the book of your life, if not the falling action and conclusion now all together. But, as inflexible as you are at times, you can still attempt to make the most of it in your own way.

Having already offered any serious forms of opposition, you quickly learned the petty endeavors would ultimately be pointless. Illumi never so much as blinked at any of your trite attempts at upsetting him, not taking the offenses as seriously as you hoped. Maybe that was for the best, as he’d still reprimand you despite seeming unaffected.

“Aina,” you invite over in a low tone. “Can you come here for a moment?”

There isn’t any reason to voice your desires in a polite manner, seeing as the Zoldyck butlers would carry out your every reasonable whim without complaint. Even if they held the key to freeing you from this grandiose prison, you still couldn’t find it within yourself to harbor any serious resentment against them.

Even if they did come to their senses, and ever tried to assist you, you didn’t want to imagine what the consequences would be for such an offense.

“Do you need something, Master [First]?”

Aina appears next to you faster than the human eye could comprehend, her serious gaze set wholly upon you. Aina was who Illumi assigned to be your personal butler during your first few days here, someone who has become a familiar face. You had asked her before for her age, only to learn she was only a year older than you.

Illumi most likely picked her out for that very reason, wanting to “ease” the transition into your new life.

Aina sports a well cared for bob, having light brunette hair and honey colored eyes. It seems you fell right into Illumi’s trap, feeling a kindling of friendship with her. Even if it wasn’t formed in a natural way, a friend is a friend.

Leaning back in the garden chair, a soft noise leaves your lips as you stretch your stiff muscles. The relaxing sounds of nature always felt like a welcome change of pace. You’ve always expressed your preference for the gardens in the Zoldyck estate, preferring them greatly over the Gothic style mansion.

The air out here feels lighter, the sun inviting as it gently kisses your skin. Different cries from exotic creatures you couldn’t even begin to name fill your ears, along with the sounds of running water from the fountains.

Aina waits by your side ever so patiently, while your mind is full of these thoughts.

Sheepishly looking up at her through your eyelashes, you smile. “I have a bit of a request, actually.”

She’s capable of picking up on every nuance to your words, of reading all the twitches of your muscles and knowing what emotions they indicate. In a way, it almost reminds you of Illumi. But whereas Illumi would exploit this telling information for his own gain, Aina uses it only to serve you better.

“If by chance I’m asking for too much, just let me know,” you request, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. At this you notice her jawline tightening, most likely anticipating the worst. “It’s been on my mind to get some new decorations to spruce up my room. Not to say I dislike the whole, vampires living in the 1800s look, but it’s a tad dreary.”

Aina’s lips quirk up, before she swiftly changes to a neutral look once more.

“Since I can’t really use the internet, it’s not like I can do online shopping. And I’d feel bad for someone having to deliver it on a mountain too. So how do I go about this? Is there like a special Zoldyck amazon that I can use, but no one has told me about yet?”

At any hints of humanity Aina offers, you find it easier to talk without holding yourself back. Being all doom and gloom nonstop is tiring after all, sometimes you just have to roll with the punches. Even if that phrase most likely is not intended for being forced into marriage with an assassin, it could still apply here, right?

“If I’m being honest with you, I’m not entirely sure,” Aina places a tentative hand to her chin, eyes narrowing in deep thought. “I’d need to contact Master Illumi for his instructions. Do you want me to do so now?”

At the mention of your husband’s name, you frown. Even if you were expecting your request to be run through multiple channels for permission to be granted, it doesn’t soothe the sting any less. Most things in your life, if not everything, are controlled entirely by Illumi.

Puffing your cheeks out in mild annoyance, you can’t help but sigh dejectedly. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I don’t have much of a choice if I want to get my pink sheets…”

Aina doesn’t so much as flinch at your thinly veiled sarcasm, instantly getting herself to work with the matter at hand. You find yourself watching her carefully as Aina reaches for the black phone in her pocket. If you remember correctly, Aina had informed you that Illumi is on his way back from a job that had him absent a week.

Seeing as he must be in transit, you assume Aina has the green light to contact him whenever necessary without the concern of impeding on his work.

With the press of a button, you hear a low dialing tone come from her phone. One ring later you hear him pick up, Aina’s posture straightening even more than it was before out of respect. Tilting your head at the half heard exchange before you, you’re unable to determine much from Aina’s stoic facade.

Eventually, she pulls the phone away from her head. Before you get the opportunity to ask if you’re in the clear, she holds the phone out in your direction.

“Master Illumi wishes to speak with you.”

At this instruction, you swallow thickly. Speaking to Illumi is always a tricky battle, his words blunt yet crafted all the same. Aina subtly nudges the phone forward once more, prompting you to gingerly pick it up. Placing it against your ear, you bite your lip before finally speaking. Not wanting to give off the impression of being frightened, you put your all into sounding casual.

“So uh, what’s up?” you inquire to him, looking down at your tea cup. By now it’s undoubtedly cold, the amber colored liquid held in a fine china worth more than you could imagine. The desire to fiddle with your hands overwhelms you, so you reach for the handle.

At your voice, Illumi responds immediately in his signature deadpan. “Aina mentioned you wanted to go shopping.”

‘Is this… newsworthy or something?’

“Yeah, I thought it could be a nice change of pace,” you let out an airy laugh, your grip on the handle growing tighter. Even when Illumi isn’t face to face with you, you still can’t help but feel nervous. “It’d make me happy. But I understand if it’s too unreasonable.”

You sit awaiting a response, hearing nothing but the propellers of the blimp Illumi must be travelling on. Does that mean he’s considering it? There’s always a chance he has already made up his mind, but wants to give the impression of taking your feelings into account. It’s a creepy tick you noticed he has, trying to act more human for your sake.

“Alright. We’ll go when I get back this evening,” Illumi eventually concludes, much to your surprise. “You can hand the phone back to Aina now.”

Nodding your head despite him not being able to see you, you give the dark phone back to Aina who stands in waiting. She takes it before confirming a few more minor details, and then ultimately ending the phone call. It’s strange, you believe, that such a mild request requires so many moving parts. Whether it be Illumi’s suffocatingly protective nature over you, or the cost of being a Zoldyck, you’re unsure.

Aina busies herself with contacting other butlers at your behest, most likely planning out in great length how everything will work. If it weren’t for being held here against your will, you might even feel bad for all the effort they’re putting in for your sake. But even if it’s a small one, this is a victory nonetheless!

Having been with Illumi for over a year now, you quickly picked up on what you should and shouldn’t do. Even when you’re upset with him, which you can’t help but be a majority of the time; it’s in your best interest to not show it. A few snarky quips here and there don’t do much damage, but anything other than that can place you in boiling hot water.

Illumi had expressed to you in the past a similar sentiment. That once you adjust to your new life, things will flow a lot smoother for you. Now the fruits of your labor are starting to show, you believe. If he’s placing enough trust in you to do this, then maybe, just maybe; you can have even more freedoms over time.

Once Aina looks to be free for a moment, you begin to speak to her again.

“You know, in the past when I wanted to go shopping I’d just get in my car, and head to the mall.” you recall over to her, wistfully sighing for extra effect. Aina never seems bothered by your musings, always indulging you without a hint of irritation.

“I’m sure things were simpler then. But now that you’re a Zoldyck, there are a lot of extra factors to account for,” Aina points out with a soft smile of her own. Whether it’s genuine or not, you’re unsure. “Master Illumi does the utmost to ensure your safety.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t wrapped me up in bubble wrap yet,” you snicker at the thought, before your eyes widen in realization. “Wait, I shouldn’t give him any ideas…”

“If it makes you feel any better, I doubt he’d do that.”

‘For some reason, that doesn’t make me feel much better.’

Shaking your head, you decide to curve the conversation away from your overprotective husband. “What time are we heading out? I have to wear my finest threads and all, since I’m representing the family.”

Pulling the cuff of her suit back, she looks down at her watch.

“Four hours, give or take. You still have some time.” Aina responds in haste, before covering her watch yet again.

Owlishly, you stare at her, finding her every move to be of interest. It further cements the feeling that you don’t fit in with this estate, despite Illumi’s attempts. The grace the family members have, and even their servants have, is still far from your grasp.

That still doesn’t stop him from trying though.

“In that case, I’ll return to my previous philosophical musings.” you respond while stroking your chin, stifling another laugh. If there’s anything that can bring you comfort in this foreign place, it’s your own stupid words.

Why you caught the interest of Illumi Zoldyck is still one of the world’s wonders, not to say you don’t have your own theories. Some ranging from being cursed as a baby, to having done something in your past life to deserve this.

‘How does the saying go again? Opposites attract, or something. Illumi is probably the opposite of me in every conceivable way, after all.’

“Would you like me to brew you some fresh tea?” Aina asks you, having taken notice of your cold beverage. You purse your lips, knowing that trying to understand Illumi is a lost cause.

“Yes please.”

---

When you used to watch events where celebrities would gather, one of the coolest aspects to you were the cars they’d emerge from. Sports cars, luxury vehicles, limousines. All of them filled you with awe and wonder, a class above what you could ever hope to afford.

Now you stand here, face to face with a limousine of your own, gaping at the tinted windows and expensive tires. Three vehicles just like it line up behind, most likely your other escorts.

Aina looks over at you once more, straightening her posture and then subtly motioning to you. It takes a moment for it to click, before realizing that your gawking isn’t as subtle as you thought it was. Following her example with less grace, you walk towards the car door.

Before you can continue to do so, you hear Aina speak up behind you.

“Do you recall everything I told you earlier?” she inquires, causing you to turn your head back to her. Humming lowly, you remember the myriad of boring guidelines you had to endure earlier. It all felt so dramatic, and if you’re being honest, you zoned out for a majority of it.

Scrunching up your nose, you place a finger to your cheek. “Don’t go around yelling ‘Help! I’ve been kidnapped!’ or something.”

Aina pinches her nose, before shaking her head. “Well, you’re not wrong per se…”

Giving her a cheeky smile, you go to reach for the door handle. But before you get the opportunity, another servant swiftly opens it for you.

“Please, allow me, Master [First].”

He opens it with a respectful bow, revealing a black leather interior. Letting out a small “oooh!”, you bite your lip upon noticing the other occupant of the limousine. Waving off the servant’s attempt to assist you into your seat, you hear Aina speak to you once more.

“I’ll be in the car behind you if you need anything.”

“I’ll yell out the window in that case.” you yell back, undoubtedly earning a reprimanding look from her. Plopping yourself down into your seat, your door is closed before you even get the chance to do it yourself.

“No greeting, huh?” Illumi tilts his head, blank eyes staring at you with an unreadable expression. Fiddling with your seat belt, you finally look over at him in acknowledgement. Managing to hear a click signifying your seat belt is locked in place, you give Illumi your full attention.

“Hey, didn’t see you there.” you greet Illumi who doesn’t so much as blink at your words.

“You looked at me when getting in,” he points out, any form of humor flying over his head. “Do we need to get your eyes checked?”

Throwing your hands up in defense, you swiftly shake your head at his offer. “I was just joking, Illumi.”

“Ah.”

Illumi’s tone is as flippant as ever, one of his signature trademarks. On the other side of the partition, you hear keys being flipped to turn the car on. With a soft hum, the car gains traction with remarkable ease. On such a rocky terrain, none of it is felt as the luxury vehicle glides across the ground.

Returning your attention to Illumi, you find him staring at you as well. For a while it gave you a jittery feeling, having those dark voids for eyes thoroughly observing your every move. While it certainly isn’t any less frightening, you suppose that all this time with Illumi has given you a sort of immunity to it.

“So… how did your job go?” you inquire in a soft voice, hands set in place on your lap. There isn’t much else to talk about, so might as well try your luck with this. Illumi would sit next to you in total silence if he so chose to, not being the type to entertain conversation himself without some kind of agenda.

“As well as expected,” Illumi responds earnestly, seemingly pleased that you’re taken interest in him. “The target was killed without a hitch.”

You let out a hesitant laugh. “Oh. That’s uh, that’s good I think...”

Trailing off your sentence, you find yourself scratching the back of your neck at the topic in progress. The thought of the person next to you having killed someone in the last twenty-four hours is dizzying, so you’re quick to move onto something new.

“So, where exactly are we going?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for the past few hours. The fact you were even leaving Kukuroo mountain in the first place is a surprising one, even your honeymoon took place here. Unless there’s some other Zoldyck owned establishment that happens to double as a mall, your mind is clueless to any possible destinations.

“I made arrangements to empty out a shopping center for a few hours. Aside from employees, that is,” Illumi explains, still not blinking. “Aina went over everything with you, right?”

‘She did, but it’s not like I was really paying attention.’

Clearing your throat, you quickly nod your head to deter any negative repercussions. “Yeah, I remember everything she said.”

He studies you once more, before leaning back into his seat. You feel a sudden urge to do the same, but find it difficult to ever fully relax when Illumi is present. Among other things, there’s still one damning question you still can’t fully understand.

Why Illumi is even allowing this in the first place, after all the insane precautions he’s taken to seal you off from the world. Maybe it’s best not to pry into your sudden good fortune? Since curiosity killed the cat, quelling this question will be in your best interest.

Leaning your head against your fist, your eyebrows furrow.

“You have more questions.” Illumi points out, alarming you. Of course he notices any change in your behavior, having spent hours studying every aspect about you. In his own words, there’s nothing you can hide from him. At every given opportunity he proves those words to be correct.

“W-well, yeah,” you admit out at the unexpected heckle. “If I’m being completely honest… I’m just a little taken aback that you’re actually allowing this. I guess.”

For a moment you wonder if your words were too blunt, as Illumi sits there in rigid silence.

“Think of it as a reward for your good behavior,” Illumi eventually concludes, lips curling into an unnatural, proud smile. “Even though you weren’t too compliant at first, you never made any escape attempts. I would’ve known had you tried. I was largely expecting the possibility, but you never made any serious offenses.”

‘I feel like this is how a judge talks to a defendant or something.’

“I suppose that’s true…” you consider, reflecting back to your time here. Although escaping had crossed your mind numerous times, you never had the guts to act on it. The odds were insourmantable against you. What with all the highly trained assassins and butlers running about, you’d have better luck at winning the lottery than pulling a successful escape.

“I’ve always liked outings like this. I would treat myself to a five dollar coffee and then immediately regret it when I got home,” you recall with a snicker. “There’s nothing quite like opening your bank account and wondering, ‘What was I thinking?’ when you’re out of the moment.”

Illumi nods his head. “That’s true. Your bank account wasn’t in the best shape.”

“How do you even-- whatever, I probably don’t want to know,” you murmur while rolling your eyes at his lack of tact. “The point being that the most fun part is all the little treats you buy yourself in between the stores. Sometimes I’d get those cups of small pretzel bites, then have to eat them really quick since you can’t bring them in the stores.”

“Ah! That explains all the small transactions I saw.” Illumi proclaims, eyes lighting up for a moment.

‘The art of being subtle is all but lost to my husband.’

“Have you ever had pretzel bites, Illumi? For some reason, I get the feeling you haven’t been to the mall that often.” you comment while giving him a once over, taking in his unique fashion that would certainly stand out. How he even goes in public without people badgering him is remarkable.

“Only once for shadowing on a job.” Illumi answers, piquing your inner curiosity.

“You were hired to assassinate someone who hung out around a mall? I thought you only went after politicians or important people.” you point out, tilting your head.

“There’s some variety. The client himself was a wealthy individual, who wanted his daughter’s boyfriend killed. She had been dating someone who worked at a clothing store, going against her father’s wishes.”

Frowning, you lean back into your seat. Some people will do anything for the sake of image, but the thought of doing something that would actively hurt a member of your family doesn’t make any sense to you. But the people that Illumi deal with are in a league of their own, taking part in a world you will never understand.

A somber atmosphere begins to set in, to which you attempt to alleviate with a joke. “Did you trail the guy in one of those mascot suits? Like the ones people give free samples in?”

For a moment, you swear you saw Illumi’s eyebrows knit together. He’s still getting used to unfiltered comments, even after all this time. You’ve been told your personality is a tad on the eccentric side in the past. It doesn’t help that Illumi is incapable of spotting humor even in others.

“No. That wouldn’t have been effective.” Illumi plainly states, unimpressed with your guess.

At his dismissal, you further explain your reasoning. “Think about it! It’s an efficient method. You’d blend right in with the atmosphere around you, and no one would be able to tell that you’re looking at your target because of the mask. I think this is genius, actually. Maybe I should patent it…”

Illumi purses his lips together at your further insistence. At the very least you know Illumi never tunes you out like most would be inclined to at this point. He soaks in every word, every movement of your lips.

“That’s certainly something you would say.” he ultimately decides, knowing your carefree nature and comments well.

‘Is that a good or bad thing? That’s probably a bad thing.’

Not giving too much thought to Illumi’s blunt comment, you content yourself by looking out your window. On the outside it’s impossible to see the interior of the car, but from this angle you’re able to see blurry scenery as it goes by. Having familiarized yourself with most of the Zoldyck estate, this felt like an entirely new world. A welcome one at that.

The temptation to lower the window for fresh air presses against you like a thorn, but you ultimately deny it. Who knows how Illumi would interpret the act, it’s better to not risk it. Instead your eyes go wide at the sights around you, seeing the outside world in what felt like forever.

You can still feel Illumi’s gaze boring into the back of your head, but you think nothing of it. He watches you enough as is, it’s not worth getting worked up about. Through winding roads, a hint of civilization finally makes itself known. Seeing people not donning the standard Zoldyck tuxedo fills your heart with nostalgia of a time before.

Eventually, the vehicle comes to a stop in an almost empty parking lot. Not wanting to make any wrong moves, you sit patiently for whatever security checks the butlers are most likely performing at the moment. Illumi gets out before you do, the chauffeur eventually coming to open the door for you just a minute later.

Taking in the fresh air, you appreciate the ability to stretch your legs while awaiting further instruction. Aina catches your eye for a brief moment, giving you a reassuring nod before returning her attention to looking at the premises. The butlers continue to speak among themselves, occasionally running a few words by Illumi who returns to your side.

Once everything seems to be in order, you’re prompted to walk towards the entrance. It reminds you of a scene from an apocalyptic movie, seeing how this large mall is almost entirely devoid of human life. It seems Illumi’s comment about only employees being present rings true, as you cheerfully enter into the grandiose mall.

Looking around at the interior, you come to the realization that this is an extremely high end mall.

‘So much for my pretzel bite dreams… Maybe they have caviar stands here instead.’

Pausing, you glance over at Illumi to make certain that you’re still in the clear. Not sensing any indication that you’ve done something wrong, you continue on your merry way. It’s an overwhelming selection before you, but you want to treasure this moment for as long as you can.

Anything that catches your eye you indulge, walking into the store while being surrounded by numerous butlers. The employees at the store seem understandably hesitant at your presence, so you make an effort to not disturb them more than necessary. The shops that catch your eye the most are clothing stores.

Eventually, you approach one with a variety of cute outfits. The collection of clothes you currently have is surprisingly tailored to your taste, Illumi most likely having studied that aspect about you. An overall outfit in particular stands out to you, causing you to walk over to it with urgency.

“Illumi! How do you think this would look on me?” you call over to him with a snicker, grabbing the hanger and holding it against your person. Illumi looks at you as if you have three heads, mind undoubtedly wracking to form a husband like answer.

“It would look acceptable.” he eventually responds, to which your shoulders slump. It’s not like your expectations are high, but Illumi’s lack of enthusiasm never fails to shine through. A mischievous thought passes through your mind, grin adorning your face before you can stop it. Placing the outfit back to its previous spot, your eyes roam over the selection.

Spotting a bright pink tuxedo, you pick it up before examining Illumi.

“I think you need a new outfit or two. How about this? It’d really bring out your eyes.” you beam, using all of your strength not to laugh. Illumi looks at the bright, hot pink tuxedo and then looks at you. In your peripheral vision you see Aina place her hand to her forehead. Shouldn’t she also be used to this by now?

“I’ll consider your input.” Illumi reaches for the tuxedo, much to your astonishment. Could it be? Is he actually going to purchase this in an attempt to further win you over? Victory is a fleeting emotion, as he stretches his arms to place the outfit back in record time.

“I don’t think that’s what I’d call considering,” you point out with a frown, Illumi seemingly content with the outfit being out of your hands. “You didn’t even give it a shot. At least try it on.”

At your additional pressure, Illumi offers a simple response. “I am considering it.’

Giving an over dramatic sigh, you nod before busying yourself with the other selections. Adding a few more odds and ends to your bag, it’s paid for by one of the butlers. Most likely to further limit any of your contact with the outside world. You get the feeling that if you even attempt to make conversation with them, they’d be too skittish to say anything in response. It doesn’t help that you have Illumi looming over you.

Humming to yourself, you move onto the next few stores. It’s impossible to curtail all of your old habits, still checking the price tag before remembering it doesn’t matter anymore. This part of being with Illumi isn’t all that bad, despite its shallowness. Guilt never comes to you, however, as you recall with ease all Illumi has taken from you.

The sun starts to set in the sky above you, the glass ceiling of the mall further showcasing the bold oranges and reds. All of the recent sunsets you’ve seen have been on Kukuroo Mountain, where you almost felt you could reach out and touch the clouds yourself. Stopping in your tracks, you gape at the nostalgic scene.

‘This is how it used to look like.’

The thought of never being able to see the sky from your own residence never occurred to you. Despite the undeniable beauty witnessing a sunset on a mountain brings, it’s too surreal. This is a familiar comfort, one that you’ve experienced your entire life before Illumi entered it.

“There aren’t any shops up there.” Illumi points out, his monotone returning you to reality. Jumping slightly at his sudden speech, you offer a small laugh. In a way, Illumi’s bluntness can be unintentionally humorous.

“Now that you mention it,” you begin, squinting and looking around. “You’re right. There aren’t any. Strange, I could’ve sworn I saw some.”

“Maybe you should see an ophthalmologist after all.”

“I’m still joking, Illumi.”

“Ah.”

A butler who you don’t recognize approaches Illumi carefully, whispering a few words into his ear. Illumi looks back towards you, his attention once again yours. Your stomach sinks before he even speaks, capable of guessing what he’s already going to say.

“We’ll be heading back home now,” Illumi states, leaving little room for debate. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

It’s a rhetorical question, you feel. At this point it’ll be best for you to offer your abundant gratitude, for him having allowed this entire trip to begin with. Giving one more glance to the sky, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be able to look at it like this again.

Giving Illumi a bittersweet smile, you nod your head. “Yeah. Everything I wanted.”

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hysterialevi · 3 years

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Hjarta | Chapter 2

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Walking underneath the white sun, Eivor worked his way around the village as he scanned the surrounding buildings, keeping an eye out for Randvi’s bright head of hair. Roughly half an hour had passed ever since Thora first approached him on the hill asking for his assistance, but he had yet to catch a glimpse of his younger sister anywhere.

According to some of the people Eivor had spoken to, Randvi was last seen heading towards the town’s temple. She was accompanying the local seeress on an “urgent matter,” and apparently hadn’t returned since. Eivor didn’t have a clue as to what Ingrida could’ve needed help with on a day like this, but nonetheless, it was the only lead he had. And so, he took it.

Pushing himself up the steep incline that led to the temple’s archway, Eivor slowly ascended a dirt path decorated with ceremonial bones and charms, causing a soft chime to rattle in his ears as they swayed gently in the wind.

His boots dug deeply into the many layers of snow blanketing over the path, and with every step he took on his short journey, a sharp crunch emitted from his feet, alerting nearby hares and birds.

Up ahead, Eivor saw a majestic line of wooden statues standing proudly in front of the temple’s lake, towering over its still waters like a row of guardians. Piles of snow had gathered on their heads and shoulders as a result of the frostbitten weather, and in the bowls that lay at their feet, Eivor saw a handful of fresh offerings left by some of the locals.

The main thing that caught his attention however, was a toppled statue of Freya lying motionlessly in the snow. The base of its structure had broken somehow, and now, it was garnering the care of their seeress, as well as Randvi herself.

Eivor stopped briefly in his tracks, feeling a sense of relief.

“There you are.” He whispered under his breath.

Approaching them from behind, Eivor hurriedly made his way to Randvi as the two women covertly bickered with each other, speaking in a hushed manner. At first, he simply assumed they were trying to figure out how to get the statue back on its feet, but once he got closer, their conversation suggested otherwise.

“....You’re not listening to me,” Ingrida insisted. “It’s a sign! We must not ignore it.”

Randvi crossed her arms in disagreement, attempting temper the seeress’ fear. “I understand that, Ingrida, but there isn’t much we can do about it now. What’s done is done.”

“You must cancel the wedding,” the older woman reiterated. “The gods have made it clear that this joining will ensue nothing but chaos!”

“A king is coming to our shores at our invitation, Ingrida. To turn Styrbjorn away would be a grave insult to him and his clan. We have no choice but to go through with this.”

Still, the seeress was unconvinced. “An insult holds little weight in the face of death. The arrival of the Raven Clan will bring naught but misery and conflict. The gods have shown this to me.”

Eivor stepped in the middle of their altercation, trying to get a grasp of what was going on.

“Randvi,” he called out, earning a glance from the woman. “What’s going on? Why haven’t you joined father at the docks yet?”

She sighed in frustration. “I apologize for the delay, Eivor, but Ingrida is concerned about the nature of this wedding, and nothing I say seems to ease her nerves.”

Eivor turned to the seeress, curious to hear her side. “What troubles you, Ingrida? You look perturbed.”

The elderly woman scoffed. “Perturbed is an understatement, young man. Last night, the gods visited me in my dreams, and showed me visions of things to come. They were not good.”

“What did you see?”

Ingrida took a moment to recall her memories. “...There was a man. He appeared human in my dream, yet carried a monstrous nature to him. His eyes burned bright with the heat of Muspelheim itself, and his hair was so red that, at first, I mistook it for fire. There was a strange mark etched into the flesh on his neck, and one of his arms had been severed clean off. Lurking behind him, I saw a white wolf whose snout was stained by the redness of his blood.”

It didn’t take long for Eivor to make the connection. “You dreamt of Tyr?”

The seeress seemed unsure. “Perhaps... but I did not get the impression that this man was a god. He seemed too earthly. Too... familiar. That’s not the part that frightens me, though. What worries me is, when I awoke, the statue of Freya had fallen to the ground, despite the fact that it was still standing mere moments ago.”

Eivor shrugged. “I fail to see what’s so alarming about that.”

Ingrida gestured to the statue. “Use your head, Eivor! Freya is the goddess of love. Her collapse -- paired with my vision -- signifies what this marriage will bring. War.”

“How could this marriage bring war? The whole purpose of this joining is to forge an alliance between the Bear and Raven Clans.”

“I’m aware. But our plans do not always match what the gods have in mind.”

Randvi tried to defuse the situation. “Have faith in our jarl, Ingrida. I know these are frightening times, but our father is simply trying to eradicate Kjotve’s people from our waters for good. We would have killed him ourselves long ago, but we alone do not have the strength necessary to do that. We need Styrbjorn and his people.”

“What we need is to avoid more bloodshed. We have had enough.”

The seeress sighed in annoyance, deciding to put an end to this argument. It was clear that her message wasn’t getting through to the other members of the clan, and despite what she may have believed, she couldn’t deny that Randvi had a point.

Ingrida may have been skeptical about the outcome of this wedding, but Styrbjorn was already on his way. His entire clan was accompanying him to Bjornheimr’s shores, and there wasn’t much she could do about that now.

“...Alright, you two.” Ingrida finally said. “I can see that this is going nowhere. If your father believes this is the best way forward... then I suppose it is not my place to defy him.”

The young woman beamed at her. “Do not fear, seeress. Everything will be alright.”

“I certainly hope so. Our people have suffered enough at the hands of Kjotve and his men. I pray that this joining will put an end to that.”

Randvi nodded in agreement. “As do I.”

Eivor smirked humorously at his sister. “Well, it’s never going to happen if you don’t make haste to the docks.”

The woman chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll be on my way soon. Just...” Randvi took a breath, “...give me a moment.”

Her brother grinned. “Nervous, are we?”

Randvi gave him a friendly shove. “Yes, and you are not helping.”

Eivor smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Father wouldn’t promise you to this man if he thought he couldn’t be trusted. You know him.”

The woman remained somewhat anxious. “I know he would never do anything to put me in harm’s way. I’m just... nervous about what the future holds. What if my husband and I don’t get along? What if we’re miserable together? What if this only brews more animosity between our clans?”

“All the better,” Eivor replied. “You’ll fit right in with the rest of Norway’s royalty.”

Randvi let out a laugh at that. “You certainly know how to make light of any situation, don’t you?”

Eivor leaned against a tree, crossing his arms in a jesting way. “It’s my blessing and my curse.”

Ingrida rested her hands on her hips. “More often a curse, I would say.”

Randvi rolled her eyes in a playful manner, finally deciding to return to her duties.

“Alright,” she said with a troubled sigh. “I’ll go find father at the docks now. He’s probably wondering where I am. I’ll see you and Thora at the feast this evening. Try to keep things orderly, will you?”

Eivor nodded reassuringly. “Of course.”

“Good. Father’s counting on us to make a good impression. I trust you won’t scare anyone off before the feast starts?”

“Now that, I can’t promise.”

Randvi snickered in amusement and threw a casual grin at Eivor before taking her leave from the temple, following the trail of dented snow that her brother left behind. The sun was nearing the center of the sky at this point in the day, and if Eivor squinted hardly enough, he could’ve sworn he saw the miniature silhouettes of distant ship sails billowing on the horizon.

The Raven Clan had arrived.

“Ingrida?” Eivor said, continuing his talk with the seeress. “Can I ask you something?”

The old woman took a seat on a nearby bench, placing herself in front of the statues.

“Of course, young cub. What’s on your mind?”

Eivor strolled towards Ingrida’s position, keeping his eyes nailed on Freya’s fallen figure as he put his thoughts into words.

“Do you truly think this wedding will bring more chaos to our clan?”

The seeress shook her head in uncertainty. “I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know what the gods are thinking. All I can tell you is that this marriage sparks a sense of worry in me... and it stems from the man in my dreams.”

Eivor sat beside Ingrida. “Is there anything I can do to tame your fear?”

A warm smile radiated on the woman’s face. “You are kind, but I suspect that this situation is now in the hands of the Nornir. If they wish to lead us into battle, then it would be pointless to cower behind our shields.”

The young man recalled a conversation he had with the seeress many years ago, bringing up one of her own quotes.

“Ingrida, do you remember what you said to me? After my parents were killed, and Arngeir took me in?”

She shook her head, staying silent in response.

“We are all bound by the threads of fate,” Eivor reminded her. “Any attempt to deviate from the path--”

“--will simply be met with what was always destined to be.” Ingrida finished. “Yes, I remember now. And it seems that I would do well to follow my own wisdom.”

The woman chuckled softly, gazing at Eivor with a motherly twinkle in her aged eyes. “You have grown into a fine young man, Eivor. It seems that your mind is as sharp as your axe. Varin would be proud of you. I know Arngeir certainly is.”

“...Thank you, seeress.”

Ingrida rose from her seat, ready to head back inside. “Well, I should return to my duties. We have a busy day ahead of us, and this statue isn’t going to stand up on its own. I’ll see if I can find my son. Perhaps he could help me.”

Eivor mirrored her actions and removed himself from the bench, offering assistance. “I can help you now, if you’d like.”

The woman raised a hand of refusal. “No, no. It’s alright. I’ve occupied enough of your time. You just focus on tending to your own family, and seeing that the Raven Clan receives the welcome they deserve. In the meantime, I will stay here, and do what I can to prepare the temple before King Styrbjorn arrives. It’s possible he will want to make an offering before the wedding.”

“Very well,” Eivor said, making his way through the temple’s arch. “I will speak with you later, then.”

“Farewell, Eivor.” Ingrida replied. “May you carry Odin’s favor.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE DOCKS

Rushing down to the harbor, Randvi weaved her way through Bjornheimr’s crowds and hurried to join her father as the Raven Clan steadily approached the docks, drawing everyone’s attention.

By now, there was a canopy of clouds hovering in the sky, slowly inching its way across the ocean’s vast length as it passed through an array of sunbeams.

Meanwhile, underneath them, an impressive collection of longships glided over the sea’s rolling waves, causing spurts of white mist to spray in their wake as they crashed into the tides.

It was an armada fit for a king, Randvi thought. Even though she had never made contact with the Raven Clan before, it was clear that they carried a strong sense of pride and honor with them, similar to the one that her own clan held.

It made her wonder if, perhaps, it wouldn’t be such a difficult task to bring their people together, after all. For many days now, Randvi had spend most of her nights twisting and turning in bed with the worry of causing more trouble like Ingrida suggested, but after seeing the Raven Clan face-to-face, it managed to put some of her fears to rest.

Her heart still hammered with the nervousness of meeting her future spouse, but the anxiety in her chest was no longer as debilitating as before.

Freya willing, it would stay that way.

Finally reaching the harbor, Randvi came to a halt when she spotted Arngeir waiting by the edge of the pier, standing quietly as his fur cloak danced wildly in the breeze.

Arngeir Hallbjornson was a tall man clad in fierce armor that broadened his already stocky build, causing him to stand out from the clan like a walking giant. Most of his visage was hidden behind a grizzled beard and mane that had been twisted into multiple braids, and the parts of his face that remained uncovered were creased with years of experience.

Despite the boldness that his presence carried however, Arngeir did not wield an intimidating temperament as others might have expected. Instead, his pragmatic nature only enhanced the fatherly spirit in him, and a firm sense of nobility stood proudly in his eyes.

A certain kindness radiated from his stern expression, but due to the plethora of burdens that came with being a jarl, there was also a rougher edge to him like thorns on a rose.

He was no stranger to the idea of mercy, but he wasn’t able to engage with it as often as he wished.

“Father!” Randvi exclaimed, taking her position beside the man.

Arngeir turned around at the sound of her voice, slouching his shoulders in relief.

“Randvi. There you are. I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

The woman replied with a humorous response. “I wasn’t. But then Eivor found me.”

A chuckle escaped her father’s lips. “I understand if you’re hesitant to go through with this wedding, but trust me. Everything will be fine. Sigurd is a good man. I believe he will be a worthy husband.”

“He’s also a prince,” Randvi added, “which means someday I’ll be...”

“...his queen. A daunting task, indeed, but I have faith that you will live up to the challenge.” Arngeir rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Do not fear, Randvi. You are ready for this.”

“I hope so. I’m just worried about the future of our marriage. What if Sigurd and I don’t go well together? What if this turns out to be a disaster?”

Arngeir gave her a reassuring smile. “These thoughts you’re experiencing are quite normal for someone in your situation. Fear is a natural part of change, and marriage can be a life-altering event. But as I said before -- I would not have chosen Sigurd if I did not think he was suitable to be your husband. Even though this wedding is for the good of our clan, I also want to ensure that you are happy as well.”

Randvi took a deep breath, attempting to conceal how much she was shaking.

“I suppose I won’t know for sure until I meet him myself.”

“Exactly.” Arngeir paused for a moment, suddenly realizing that King Styrbjorn had reached the dock. “But enough of that. The Raven Clan is here. Keep your head high, and do your best to stay calm. The gods are watching over us.”

Turning away from his daughter, the jarl swiftly approached the opposite end of the pier with open arms as Styrbjorn stepped off the longship, eager to return to the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet.

He appeared to be a man of great stature and etiquette just based on the elegancy of his demeanor, but it was no secret to Randvi that he had seen his fair share of battles throughout the years.

There were many faint scars hiding beneath the surface of his weathered skin, and even though Styrbjorn spent most of his time occupying a throne these days, his hands remained hardened with the callouses of a soldier, implying that the hilt of an axe once sat in his palm.

Though, as age would decree, the muscles that once sharpened his physique had softened over time, and the shaved hair sitting atop his head had been washed with silver. The lids of his eyes hung slightly low with with a tinge of fatigue, and sitting between his brows, Randvi saw the wrinkles of a serious man embedded into his skin.

“King Styrbjorn!” Arngeir called out in a convivial tone. “Welcome to Bjornheimr!”

The older man returned his smile, beaming brightly as he adjusted to the land beneath his boots.

“Arngeir Jarl!” Styrbjorn said boisterously. “Now there’s a face that I haven’t seen nearly enough of.” He pulled Arngeir into a tight embrace, greeting the man with a warm hug. “You look well, my friend. It is a blessing to see you safe in times like these.”

The jarl welcomed the gesture, immediately picking up on the smell of sea salt. “And you, my lord. I trust you had a safe journey from Fornburg?”

Styrbjorn nodded, separating the hug. “We did. Njord graced us with calm waters and strong winds today. We were also lucky enough to avoid Kjotve’s men during the voyage. I’m glad to say our journey was rather uneventful. Though, I fear it may have been too uneventful for my son’s liking.”

Arngeir chuckled. “A warrior’s heart beats inside his chest, just like yours.”

“Indeed,” the king joked, “and it will be the death of me someday.”

Styrbjorn diverted his gaze to the woman at Arngeir’s side, instantly realizing who she was.

“Ah, and you must be Randvi.”

The young viking bowed her head politely, admittedly unsure of how to address Styrbjorn.

“...Yes,” she answered. “I-It’s an honor to meet you, my lord.”

Styrbjorn gently took Randvi’s hand into his grasp, shaking it in an affable manner. “The honor is mine, my lady. Your father has offered nothing but praise in response to the questions I’ve asked about you. I’m certain you’ll make a fine addition to our family.”

“Thank you,” she said, slightly more relaxed. “You’re too kind.”

An extra pair of footsteps thudded on the pier’s wooden surface, causing Styrbjorn to throw a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Ah, but enough about me. Allow me to introduce you to your betrothed.” He placed a hand on his son’s back, presenting him to Randvi.

“My lady Randvi, I’d like you to meet my son. Sigurd.”

Staring silently at the person in front of her, Randvi was met with a young man clothed in noble attire and light armor, similar to the image she had in mind. His face was embellished with a handful of neatly-drawn tattoos, and in the middle of his forehead stood an unfamiliar rune resembling the shape a tree.

The strange part about Sigurd’s appearance though, was that he happened to match the exact description Ingrida described to Randvi earlier. He wasn’t missing an arm like the man in the seeress’ dream, but everything else seemed to be identical.

A certain type of ferocity enhanced the raw ardor in his icy gaze, and with the sun’s light getting trapped between the strands of his red hair, it almost looked as if his head was surrounded by a ring of fire.

He was certainly a sight to behold, even without the context of Ingrida’s vision. He cradled a peculiar flame inside the breast of his soul, and even though he appeared as human as anyone else in Bjornheimr, Randvi couldn’t help but sense something more otherworldly in his presence.

“H-Hello.” Randvi said, sounding much more nervous than she intended. “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

Surprisingly, Sigurd shared her timidness. “As am I. I’ve heard much about you, my lady.”

Styrbjorn laughed softly at his son’s quiet response. “Have no fear, Randvi. That shyness will wear off soon enough.”

Arngeir agreed with the sentiment. “The same could be said for my daughter.”

The king began making his way off the pier, growing weary of the ocean’s chilled winds. “Well, I think I’ll go help my clan settle in now. We’re planning to pitch camp in the woods outside of Bjornheimr, but I hope it won’t be a bother if some of my men need to share a roof with your people?”

Arngeir shook his head. “Not at all, my lord. Bjornheimr is open to you. We have plenty of open space in the village should your men require more shelter. You’re free to use it.”

“Thank you, my friend. Your hospitality is appreciated. In the meantime,” Styrbjorn looked at his son, “Sigurd, why don’t you stay here with Randvi? Take some time to get to know her, and the locals as well. In two weeks from now, these people will be our family.”

“Of course, father.”

Arngeir’s face lit up with a look of remembrance. “That reminds me -- my people are preparing a feast to welcome your clan. It should be ready before this evening. Your men are welcome to join us at the longhouse.”

Styrbjorn seemed pleased. “A perfect opportunity to bring our people together. I’ll be there.”

“As will I.” Sigurd promised.

“Wonderful,” Arngeir said. “I’ll let my oldest know. Her name is Thora. She and a few others will make sure the tables are laden with food. You should introduce yourself to her when you find the opportunity, though I fear she’s not quite as sociable as Randvi. I also have a son who’d like to meet you as well. His name is Eivor.”

Styrbjorn made a mental note of that. “I shall keep that in mind. Until then, let us dig our boots into the soil here, and thank the gods for our safe arrival.”

The jarl joined his king as the two of them ventured deeper into Bjornheimr, ready to tackle the rest of the day. “And may they bless us in the days to come.”

Strolling off into the distance, Arngeir and Styrbjorn returned to their lengthy list of duties as life carried on in the village around them, causing the small crowd that had gathered at the harbor to disperse.

Meanwhile, Sigurd and Randvi stayed behind at the docks, rendered silent by an awkward lack of conversation. Neither of them really knew what to do with themselves from here on out, but in spite of that, the young woman had to admit that she was feeling far more relieved than before.

“So,” Randvi started, “I’m curious. Am I what you expected?”

Sigurd turned his head towards the young woman as he examined her, revealing a strange mark on the side of his neck.

“Yes, actually. Though, you are a bit taller than I pictured.” An inquisitive expression spread across his face. “...What about me? Did you think I would look like this?”

“No,” Randvi answered honestly. “Not at all. D-Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m not disappointed.”

Sigurd chuckled lightly. “Glad to hear it. I must admit -- I was somewhat nervous before coming here. I had no idea what I would be walking into or what kind of person you would be. So far though, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

The woman found some comfort in his words. “I’m relieved. These past few days have been filled to the brim with stress. It’s good to finally set things in motion.”

“Agreed.”

Randvi gestured to the other areas of the village, beckoning Sigurd to follow her. “Would you... like me to show you around before the feast starts? Bjornheimr has many places to see. I could also introduce you to my siblings, if you like.”

The man smiled cordially. “Of course.”

“Great. Thora should be at the longhouse, but... I’m not sure where Eivor is right now. He was at the temple the last time I saw him, but if we can’t find him, I’m certain he’ll show up at the feast. He’d never miss the opportunity to get a fresh cup of mead.”

Sigurd smirked in amusement. “A man after my own heart.”

Randvi returned the jest. “You might change your mind once you meet him, but I digress. Shall we?”

“Lead on.”

Finally removing himself from the ocean’s vicinity after a long day of traveling, Sigurd stuck to Randvi’s side as she led him away from the bustling harbor, enthusiastic to spend more time with her betrothed.

The two of them had only known each other for a few moments, and yet, Randvi got the impression that Sigurd was far gentler than his exterior suggested him to be. His appearance resembled that of a war-weathered vikingr who knew only stoicism, but his personality seemed to stem from a heart of honor and compassion.

The one thing about him that concerned Randvi so far was how accurate Ingrida’s vision had proven to be. Nothing about Sigurd gave off the impression that he harbored any malicious intent, but that didn’t stop the young woman from wondering if the seeress’ instincts were correct.

The timing of Freya’s collapse struck Randvi as somewhat odd now that she thought about it, and the fact that Ingrida dreamt about the god of war beforehand did nothing to ease her nerves.

She had to admit that she was beginning to understand the old woman’s fears surrounding this wedding, but alas, it was too late to back out of it now.

And so, with a quick change of the subject, Randvi brushed off her worries for the time being and simply focused on getting to know her betrothed. She was just as clueless as Ingrida when it came to the events of the near-future, but she figured it would be pointless fretting about it now.

The fires of this alliance were already being stoked, after all, and there was little she could do to snuff it out. She may as well have just drifted off with the waves, and allowed the tides of fate to do their job.

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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ibijau · 3 years

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part 10 of the Nomad Nie AU // On AO3

Huaisang has a surprise for his husband, who tries to surprise him in return

It took nearly another week after Cunzhi’s little adventure before the Nie finally arrived at their winter camp. The entire time, Nie Huaisang stuck close to his husband, in case Lan Xichen had developed a taste for confronting wolves unarmed and needed to be stopped. Lan Xichen was both amused and touched by this, and didn’t complain.

He thought that Khan Mingjue too seemed rather entertained by this turn of events, and acted perhaps a little less angry toward him these days. When they arrived at the winter camp, Lan Xichen was bossed around by the Khan just the same way as everyone else as they rebuilt the gers, and he was trusted with helping Huaisang and a few others check whether any of the animals had sustained wounds during the long journey. He also was a little warmer when the three of them retired for the night, and constantly teased him about the wolf. This greatly annoyed Huaisang, which seemed to be the aim, but Lan Xichen found he rather enjoyed the Khan’s dry humour. It reminded him of Lan Wangji.

When they reached the place they would spend the winter, it took very little time to set everything up, at least in Lan Xichen’s opinion. In less than a day, there was a whole village standing, looking exactly as if it had always been there. The herds were then separated, which led to a few small disputes here and there. The Khan ordered his brother and Zonghui to take care of those if they could. As for himself, Mingjue was only giving the horses a chance to rest a little, and then he would head with a few men toward the other camp, to make sure that everything was alright with them.

Mingjue left early the next morning, just as Lan Xichen was starting to wake up. He groggily bid his brother-in-law a safe trip, then decided it was really too early to be up yet and tried to pull Huaisang back under the covers with him to cuddle for a while. Huaisang indulged him at first, but before long he was escaping to eat something, saying he had a busy day ahead. He was clearly very proud of having been tasked with helping settle any disputes that might have arisen due to the migration, and refused to let his brother down when Mingjue was finally trusting him with something.

Any hope Lan Xichen might still have had about a quiet morning together was fully ruined when Meng Yao came to check on them. Huaisang and Lan Xichen were still having breakfast, but invited him to sit with them if he wished and share their meal. Lan Xichen was delighted to see his friend, as always. So was Huaisang, though he still left before long, eager for this chance to prove how very useful and mature he could be.

“We’ll chat later,” Nie Huaisang said in Hanyu, his accent much better than it used to be. “Keep my husband company, Menyao. Make sure he does nothing stupid. No more wolves for him!”

Meng Yao laughed, and promised to keep an eye on Lan Xichen. Satisfied with this, Huaisang dropped a quick kiss on his husband’s forehead and hopped out of the ger. Lan Xichen watched him go, unable to refrain a fond smile as he passed some cheese to Meng Yao.

“Do you think he minds that we are friends?” Meng Yao asked as he took the food.

Lan Xichen shot him a surprised look. “Of course not. Why would he?”

Meng Yao appeared to hesitate, the way he sometimes did when he feared he had some unpleasant information to share. He stalled a moment, nibbling on his piece of cheese, before diving in.

“These barbarians can be rather possessive,” he explained. “And I am right in guessing you are still refusing him his marital rights, are you not?”

Lan Xichen nodded and looked away, heat rushing to his face. It really wasn’t a matter of refusing anything at this point, and just that the occasion for it couldn’t be found. With Nie Mingjue gone for a few days, Lan Xichen was hoping they’d seize their chance at last… but of course he couldn’t have said that to Meng Yao, it was too private a matter.

“Huaisang is much sweeter than the others,” Meng Yao said, “but even he could get jealous. Lan gongzi should keep that in mind, and tell me if I create problems for him.” He sighed, his expression pained. “Lan gongzi is dear to me, but I will distance myself if it is needed. I do not want to provoke Huaisang into anger.”

Lan Xichen laughed awkwardly, and drank to hide his embarrassment.

“It’s fine, it’s quite fine,” he said. “Huaisang doesn’t mind at all. You’re his friend too, in spite of his brother.”

Meng Yao looked unconvinced. “These people will turn on their friends over anything. Even among brothers there is strife sometimes. If Huaisang weren’t so indolent, he would probably have been killed a long while ago, just so he wouldn’t pose a threat to the Khan’s power. Their grandfather killed his own father for power, it runs in their blood. So please, be careful, and tell me if I can ever do anything for you. You’re the only true friend I have, I don’t want for any harm to come to you.”

The story of Huaisang’s grandfather wasn’t unknown to Lan Xichen. Huaisang had told it to him, not without some pride, because the murdered father had been a cruel man who abused people and animals alike. Mingjue, who had been with them in the ger, had added that an unjust Khan could not be allowed to rule, and he would expect the same if he took a turn for the worse.

It had disturbed Lan Xichen at first, that anyone could talk so lightly of killing one’s father, one’s superior. In the end, he figured that perhaps the Nie too had a version of the Mandate of Heaven at play, and that Huaisang’s great-grandfather had lost heaven’s favour with his misconduct.

“I’m glad Meng gongzi feels this way,” Lan Xichen said. “I also see you as a true friend. If you had not been here to help me, I don’t know what I would have done. And I hope you know that I would be happy to help you as well, should you ever require it.” He hesitated a moment, then added: “For example if there might be a way to mend things between you and the Khan…”

Meng Yao failed to contain a slight grimace, and shook his head.

“No, the chance for that has passed,” he sighed. “He hates me too much now, and is too ready to blame me for everything that goes wrong in the clan. I’m sure he blames me for what happened with Cunzhi too, wouldn’t you say?”

Lan Xichen, quite awkwardly, didn’t know what to answer.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao had caused that situation on purpose, of course. Still, Lan Xichen had become quite convinced that Cunzhi had escaped his mother’s care and hidden this way specifically because he had been so upset at losing Meng Yao’s company, and somehow hoped that making his displeasure obvious enough would allow him to get his way. It was likely that Khan Mingjue had come to the same conclusion, but was less kind with regards to Meng Yao’s intentions in that situation.

“Misunderstandings have happened in the past,” Lan Xichen said at last. “They can be corrected. I’m sure there must be ways to let the Khan see that you’ve never had ill intentions, only bad luck.”

“You think too kindly of the Khan,” Meng Yao scoffed.

And you think too ill of him, Lan Xichen thought with some disappointment.

Khan Mingjue could be somewhat unreasonable when worrying for his brother, but even in his dislike he wasn’t unjust. He treated Meng Yao coldly and refused to deal with him more than necessary, but he didn’t go out of his way to be cruel to him, nor did he allow for him to be treated poorly by others. Aside from Huaisang, nobody was forbidden from associating with him. Lan Xichen was certain that if both parties had only made a small effort, they could have reconciled and returned to the friendship Huaisang told him used to exist between them. At first he’d thought all the efforts would have to come from the Khan, but he now saw that Meng Yao too would have to be a little more forgiving.

It would take time, Lan Xichen knew, and no small amount of work.

“It’s fine anyway,” Meng Yao insisted, chewing on the last of his cheese. “I’m only biding my time until I can go home. I know someday my father will return for me, just as you must hope your family will do. When my father comes to get me back, it won’t matter much what the Khan thinks of me.”

The barely restrained fierceness in Meng Yao’s voice surprised Lan Xichen. His friend rarely spoke of his father, or indeed of anything about his life before joining the Nie. Lan Xichen was under the impression he had perhaps been less well treated in their home country than he was among nomads. From some of the things he said, Lan Xichen suspected that Meng Yao was either the child of a concubine or a servant who had been noticed for his intelligence and given an education, but never treated as truly part of the family. If so, it was unlikely that his father would ever bother to attempt to buy him back from the Nie, not the way Lan Xichen thought his own family might attempt once they’d built enough of a fortune with this new trade route opened to them.

It wouldn’t be for a few years at best, but Lan Xichen was unsure what he’d do if this happened. Of course he missed his home and family no less than Meng Yao did, yet he wouldn’t want to leave Huaisang behind. But it might be a pointless question anyway. Meng Yao might hope for his father’s return, Lan Qiren might attempt to buy back his nephew, but Khan Mingjue probably wouldn’t want to let anyone go who knew too much about his people.

Overtaken by a mild melancholy, Lan Xichen changed the topic and quickly finished eating so Meng Yao and him could go out and take care of their chores. Busy hands helped him empty his mind, though his mood remained a little off all morning. It was only when he returned to the ger for lunch that he started feeling better again, knowing he would see Huaisang.

Just as he had hoped, Lan Xichen found himself smiling happily as he entered the ger and started preparing for lunch. That smile only widened when Huaisang finally joined him, holding a bowl of dumplings in one hand, and carrying a dark wooden box under his other arm. The dumplings were carefully set aside, and the box presented to Lan Xichen.

“It’s for you!” Huaisang announced. “A gift for my husband.”

Lan Xichen glanced at the box, then at Huaisang’s excited face.

“Where did you get this?”

“I made a trade with old Xianjun,” Huaisang explained, handing the box to his husband. “Foals for three of his mares from my best racing stallion in spring, and he gave me this. It’s a Han thing, right?”

Inspecting the box more closely confirmed it was of Han origin. Its style had a southern flair to it, and Lan Xichen wondered how it had arrived so far north. It wasn’t a luxurious box, a little rough here and there, but still beautiful and made with obvious care by a competent artisan, and seeing this trace from home tugged at his heart. To distract himself from this renewed melancholy Lan Xichen opened the box while Huaisang peered curiously over his shoulder.

Lan Xichen gasped.

“Is it bad?” Huaisang asked, a note of worry in his voice.

“It’s very good,” Lan Xichen replied, sitting down to more comfortably admire his present. “Why did they have this?”

Huaisang chuckled nervously. “Old Xianjun followed my father on a raid against Han people when he was young,” he admitted. “He traded away many things, kept a few. Nobody wanted this and he found it pretty, so he kept it. What is it?”

“The four treasures of the study,” Lan Xichen said, only to be met with a blank look. “Ah, hm. It is used to write things, like in my books?”

Among Lan Xichen’s few possessions when he arrived with the Nie had been two books he’d taken with him. A caprice, his uncle had called it when they were getting to leave home, telling him he wouldn’t have any use for poetry, nor for that short history treaty he’d picked up some weeks earlier and never made time to study. A few months later and he knew those books by heart, as did Meng Yao who had nearly cried from joy upon being allowed to borrow them. As for Huaisang, he showed little interest in the books themselves, but enjoyed having the poetry read to him and explained, and he liked also the few printed illustrations.

“You can make a book with this?” Huaisang asked, looking doubtful.

“If I had something to say. I could also paint something,” Lan Xichen suggested, guessing that might amuse his husband more. The paper was of good enough quality that its age hadn’t made it too fragile, and the ink still seemed good at well. The inkstone was intact, its square shape simple but elegant. Only the pair of brushes wasn’t perfectly to Lan Xichen’s liking, since they were clearly made for writing rather than painting, but their quality was good, and his skill wasn’t high enough that the wrong tool would really hinder him.

“Paint something for me!” Huaisang predictably demanded, eyeing the box’s content with more interest now.

“Gladly. What should I paint?”

Huaisang barely hesitated. “Something you would miss if you went home.”

Hearing this, Lan Xichen’s smile faltered. It seemed he really couldn’t avoid thinking of home that day. At the same time, this had the advantage of being an easy request to fulfil, because there was only one thing he could think of painting after being asked this.

“I will do that. But it has to be a surprise. You can’t look at it until it’s done, Huaisang.”

“But I want to see how you do it!”

“After this, I teach you how to paint,” Lan Xichen offered. There were about three dozen sheets of paper in the box, which didn’t feel like much, but it would be enough. He’d just have to ask his family to bring him more next time he saw them. “This one will be a gift for you, so you can’t see.”

Huaisang went from pouting to grinning in an instant. Lan Xichen took a moment more to admire his own gift, then closed the box and asked his husband about his morning. They sat down and ate together, chatting about this and that, making plans for the rest of the day. When they were done with food, Lan Xichen took his box and started carefully preparing some paper and ink. Huaisang watched with fascination the process of grinding ink, asking questions about it that Lan Xichen answered as well as he could. Once he started actually painting, Huaisang was chased away to the other side of the ger where he worked for a while with leather.

Lan Xichen found it quite nice to be together like this, each of them occupied with their own work, occasionally trading a few words, but mostly silent and focused on what they were doing. He had never expected that it would be so comfortable to be in someone else’s company this way, least of all under such circumstances, but it made him glad once more than Huaisang and him had been brought together. Fate had really found him a perfect partner.

All too soon though, this moment of peace was interrupted. Someone came to ask Huaisang to help them with a dispute regarding cattle, and Lan Xichen had his own chores to attend. They both put away their work and went out, knowing they would meet again for dinner.

When afternoon reached its end, Xichen returned to the ger and found it empty. After tidying a bit, he took this chance and went back to working on his painting. It was no masterpiece, not when he had never received the education to create great works and hadn't touched a brush in months, but Lan Xichen was still happy enough with his work. He was putting the finishing touches when Huaisang returned, dusted with snow that had started falling, and carrying again some food.

"Can I see soon?" Huaisang asked, staring toward the sheet of paper but keeping his distance, as he'd been asked.

The painting wasn’t quite done, there were a few details to add, but Huaisang’s barely contained curiosity was too adorable. Lan Xichen motioned for his husband to come closer, which Huaisang immediately obeyed, rushing to his side and dropping on his knees right next to him.

“Here it is,” Lan Xichen announced, revealing the painting and handing it to Huaisang.

Just as he had hoped, Huaisang’s initially excited expression quickly turned to astonishment as he discovered that on the paper was a portrait of himself, painted as faithfully as Lan Xichen’s skill would allow. Huaisang’s face took on a very sweet pinkish hue that grew more intense the longer he gazed at the portrait, while his eyes shone with emotion.

“Something you would miss,” he mumbled, tearing his eyes from the painting to look at Lan Xichen. “Really?”

“Really,” Xichen said, putting away his brush in its proper place, telling himself he would clean it in a moment. First, though, he needed to kiss his husband. Huaisang, seeing him lean closer, hurriedly set aside the painting and threw his arms around Lan Xichen’s neck.

It wasn’t rare these days for the two of them to get passionate while kissing, and like many times before, Huaisang quickly ended up straddling Lan Xichen’s lap as he licked into his mouth, his hands wandering under the layers of his husband’s clothes. Usually that was the moment Mingjue would pick to come home and glare at them, but…

But Mingjue wasn’t there at all this time, and at this time of day nobody would come looking for them. So Lan Xichen let himself fall back on the carpeted ground, and looked up at Huaisang, still straddling him.

Huaisang let out a strangled noise, but didn’t move. “Do you want…”

Lan Xichen quickly nodded. However much it had once terrified him to be wanted by Huaisang, he’d more than made his peace with it, his desire now matching his husband’s. There was no one else in the world he could imagine wanting as much as he wanted Huaisang, no one he would trust as much.

That nod was all the invitation Huaisang needed. He leaned down to kiss Lan Xichen with renewed passion, clumsily trying to untie his husband’s clothes while Lan Xichen did the same for him.

It was, to put it mildly, a fun night for both of them.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #jin guangyao #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #Nomad nie #jau writes

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ithinkthereforiamfandom · 3 years

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MarvelLock

(As a welcome to my newest Patreon Kate (sorry this took so long dear one), and I confess a touch of self indulgence. Loki was Actually first in Mitguard many years before Thor, and he met an interesting human, who was high as kite!) Established Johnlock, Established LokiSigyn,

In this AU Loki does not die on that ship and indeed finds the sunshine again!

Loki landed in Midgard, he had heard tales of this land where his people had once been Gods and had also heard endless lectures that this could be no more, as they had to leave Earth and it’s peoples to their fate. The whole was pointless, but he had decided to look the City of London in the eye because it sounded like a challenge. To look a city in the eye must be an interesting feat and it was said that the London Eye was quite impressive.

“Could you direct me to the eye of London?” Loki asked a neatly dressed policeman. “The What!?” “The city's eye, the London Eye. I wish to meet it’s gaze” The man had given him a quizzical look, maybe one could only met the eye by invitation, as a Prince could he not appeal to their Queen. “Down by the river" had been his only direction but his guide gave a further “follow the smell" before going on his way. Loki could smell only one source of water so he made his way towards it. The destitute were everywhere but he understood that the city looked after them, maybe it had a kindly eye, he thought grinning to himself until further enquires led him to an enormous wheel strung with carriages.

This was the great City of London's eye!

Loki barked a laugh of disappointment, it was a perfect metaphor for the whole damn planet, all just spinning in place pointlessly! “It won’t blink you know" Loki started and turned to the voice. One of the destitutes had approached him, a striking face but Loki could smell the poison he’d put in his blood. Curiously Loki held his peace hoping that maybe his sudden companion would speak again.

“You asked after the eye like you were about to have a staring contest and were so clearly disappointed to see it… you’re not from around here, no. You smell wrong, like winter but it's the middle of June and you move strangely too, like you ride a lot of horses but you don’t carry the callouses of caring for them, gloves would mask the marks of riding.” Loki watched the interesting mind race behind those odd eyes. “Sherlock Holmes" Who held his hand out for a polite shake in the manner of someone meeting a new animal, cautious of bites.

“Loki Odinson" He responded in kind and the heat of Midguard blood startled him almost as much as the words that followed “Norse mythology, god of mischief, shape shifter and Mother to a few supposed monsters… this isn’t your real skin is it? It feels wrong too” Loki's eyes filled up blood red right through the sclera as he allowed his Joten face to push through his human skin. Sherlock look intrigued and oddly relieved. Like he has been waiting for his mind to leave him all along.

Loki smiled as questing fingers lightly traced the patterns in his Joten skin, he couldn’t break his glamour for long but to enthral one mortal was really no risk. “This is my true skin Sherlock Holmes, Fenris and Sleipnir are no monsters but if you treat something as monstrous for long enough what’s the difference.” He was growing melancholy and that was not the purpose of this journey. He would entertain his new found friend instead, so he grabbed the hand that lingered on his skin, he had some time while the poison was working during which Sherlock Holmes would dismiss it all as fantasy and hallucination.

The revelation of his true nature had sparked an idea in the mad man's head to they found themselves outside of a bland looking building. “So this establishment is where your brother spends his leisure time, but refuses you entry…” Loki read a small brass plate that displayed Diogenes Club and the rather impolite phrase of ABSOLUTE SILENCE that was engraved beneath it. “You say he has cut you off because of the poison, the drugs, and you would like me to play tricks on him for your amusement…” Loki studied the face in front of him it was sickly and underweight but with arresting eyes and a fine frame to the body. He could work with this. “Just don’t let him touch you" Loki warned as he wove the spell, his magic was still young and could be unstable. “Won't be a problem” Sherlock had managed before the rush of the magic stole his breath.

The door swung open and two men strolled in; hair just slightly longer than proper matched well with impeccably tailored suits. Sherlock took a slight lead to the tea room where the so called powerful but most just plain boring sipped and chewed in their desperate collective solitude. No Mycroft, he shook his head at Loki and turned them towards his brother’s office, pausing beside the doorway to the antechamber he tried to figure out his next move. The fussy old secretary would interfere and he was at a loss until Loki moved him to face himself in a brushed steel light fitting… He barely held back a gasp as his illusion self vanished but not just his illusion, he and Loki were simply gone.

Loki grinned as he guided his shocked accomplice towards the entrance, entering was easy enough and he swiftly moved them into the office proper as the brother's assistant had left the door open to drop off some documents. A pallid man sat at a desk frowning at words and scratching his own mark irritability on each page. A tray beside him held a plate of sweet confections and some hot beverage gone cold, cancelling all sound around them Loki turned to Sherlock. “Okay, what next?”

Sherlock's smile split his face and he hoped he would remember this after the high. “The biscuits, Mummy, our mother sends them by the batch. He always eats too many, has since we were kids" He watched incredulously as Loki waved a hand and the biscuit in his brother’s fingers snapped in two. Startled his brother tried to pick up one piece but it broke again and so did the next one. Sherlock could see the sweat form on his brother’s temple and waited for his next move. A crack, deafening in the habitual silence, heralded spilled tea and fallen papers as his brother’s fussy desk split in two under his palms. Mycroft was on his feet now staring at his secretary who had glanced into the room and continued without a word. The phone was next and the plastic shattered into his palm, his trousers were the final casualty. He’d tried to dust the plastic’s shards off his hands and then fled in his ragged clothes to the next room.

Sherlock followed crying magically silenced tears of mirth as his brother pointed and waved soundlessly to his beleaguered secretary, climbing to her feet she glanced into the office again. All was as it should be. “Are you okay sir, you look a bit peaky" She’d queried quietly and Mycroft had nearly fainted dead away as he had turned and seen his office in perfect order.

Sherlock guided Loki back the tea room and took a few breaths to collect himself, he nodded to his companion to drop the camouflage and led them out to the streets in the requisite silence before collapsing on a park bench to chortle out his thanks.

Loki nodded as his almost friend thanked him, he could smell the poison was leaving Sherlock’s blood and knew he would need to depart soon. “It was my pleasure, the pointless rule of silence, it that your brother’s doing" “No it’s a general rule, avoids political discussions which inevitably always get loud, good rule though” Sherlock was sobering fast so Loki lead them to a small well tended park and settled them on a bench. “Enough poison Sherlock, no more drugs" He watched as Sherlock took in his words but cast a sleep charm upon him before there could be an argument.

If Midgard held One such as Sherlock Holmes maybe it wasn’t so pointless and he was smiling as he went home.

… Ragnarok and one mad titan later. ...

Loki lay on a couch and watched the Midgard sun rise over the green land they had called Asgard because where else would they live. Sigyn would be awake soon and Loki would forever be grateful that she was among the survivors who had trickled in after the attack, Heimdal could see them, see what remained of the Asgardians after that harrowing battle and they had gathered everyone to their new home.

Sigyn had been away in Vanahiem with a small group when Hela had attacked and there had been a few groups in other Realms but Thor had insisted everyone be present in their new home as the people of Asgard rebuilt.

Loki's face clouded over as he remembered how he had gained a wife, she had been delivered by an emissary of Jotenheim, and he had watched his brother’s blood boil as Thor had very slowly realised that the emissary was not actually asking for aid for the clearly ill woman in his charge. Thor had stood to say something, no doubt very kingly and self-righteous, so Loki stepped between his brother and the trouble maker to graciously accept the gift of a spouse from the new king of the Joten, he had been the one to destroy half of their city many years ago and had aided greatly in the repair as recompense.

The woman raised wary eyes as Loki guided her to the healers and then promptly guided her to his chambers after they had dismissed her suffering as simple exhaustion. He was quietly furious as she sank into the couch, he was no healer but he knew who might help, many years ago he had been having fun on Midgard, in London, it wasn’t far. He had watched the mortal many times after that first meeting, he had displayed a brilliant mind but far too many scruples, Sherlock! ... his companion had been a healer, between them they would aid his wife. So he gathered up his precious cargo and stepped though space, South and West over the waters.

John was pecking his way through a blog post as Sherlock prepared dinner. “Sherlock" a voice called from their lounge, holding up a hand for Sherlock to stay where he was John peered into the other room. Loki stood in the lounge holding a limp form to his chest. “John!” John dashed forward as Loki lay the woman carefully on the couch. She wasn’t human, half-mast eyelids showed blood red eyes and the distinctive Joten markings pushed through pale human skin.

Sherlock knew that voice but stayed in the kitchen as John had indicated, Loki had sounded relieved to see the doctor so clearly there was a medical problem, he turned off the gas and collected John’s kit as well as a blanket upstairs. He put the kit at John’s side and stepped around Loki to drape the blanket at the woman’s feet, John would pull it up when he was done so Sherlock clasped a hand to Loki's shoulder in support and quietly headed to the kitchen, two more for dinner then. He let John get on with clearly urgent work.

She had been a cast off like himself, an insult intended to remind Loki of what he was but she was also a true person in Loki's eyes and he had made sure she knew that.

He chuckled to himself because she had learned; she had healed and become his wife but she also grew fiercely independent and though they were wed they saw no need to be in constant company. Loki was pleased with her boldness and proud that she had recovered from her ordeal so excellently.

He could hear her waking, these new chambers were small but suited them with a simplicity that Asgard had never really possessed. It had been a few months since everyone had been called to this new home and the quiet domesticity had been a balm he did not know he’d needed but his heart froze as a loud thump came from the bedchamber.

“Sigyn, my love. Are you well?” He called as he rose then raced through the small house, because he knew the answer. He knew there would no joke to share, of two left feet, or playful mocking of Midgardian shag carpets. His wonderful wife lay pale on the floor as she tried to rouse her body from the collapse.

Loki lifted his wife with quiet words to sooth her distress, there were human healers, a hospital a short way away. He could maintain her illusion for her and hoped they would be able to help as he turned on his heel and stepped through space into a strange room. “My wife, my wife!” He approached a woman standing nearby, her clothes and name tag identified her as a doctor, like Sherlock’s John! “Please aid my wife, she collapsed a few minutes ago, it’s never happened before!”

He lay his very soul on a steel treatment bed and also wept with relief as the room burst into action. They fussed and took readings from all kinds of things that they attached to her arms, fingers, and head. She spoke to them quietly and called to him for answers when she could no longer talk then when once again he was told exhaustion and he nearly screamed, but these were uninformed human doctors. “I’m going to bring her regular doctor, he can consult for you" He gritted out before he threw himself through the doorway of the room, stepping through space once again into 221B Baker street.

“John!” He called this time and Sherlock answered “He’s occupied at the moment Loki, he won’t be long" “Unoccupy him then, my wife has collapsed and these simple Midgard healers know nothing!” Loki was pacing the dingy room when John appeared. “Your wife collapsed, what were her symptoms before it happened” but the end of the sentence was muffled as Loki grabbed John’s shorter frame firmly around the shoulders and stepped through space back to the hospital door he had left from.

“No! Loki, no, I’m not looking at a thing" John adamantly refused as he had been out and out kidnapped from London without even his phone for Sherlock to trace. He could see Sigyn, Loki's wife where she lay resting on a gurney in a pile of blankets. “Just review the tests John and I will return you personally!” “No Loki we discussed this, my phone is at home. Sherlock will be going spare. Trust Loki, there needs to be trust.” Loki almost roared with anger but a quiet coughing sound from the bed drew his gaze, she was laughing weakly at him and shooeing him off with a small gesture.

The regular staff had long since cleared out as the Asgardians had quickly made arrangements with the nearby hospitals, they would be needed until healing rooms could be set up and currency could do anything on Midgard. He returned her small smile and gave John a glare for good measure before he step through space and almost straight into Sherlock, who stood in the lounge in his coat and scarf obviously waiting. Loki had been about to comment on blinding, pig headed loyalty but Sherlock simply flashed a ring shining on his left hand. “I know, he’s lovely isn’t he" Growling at the nonchalant comment Loki quickly confirmed his consent and wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist before he thrust them both through space to John’s side.

John was smiling by the time they returned and Sigyn seemed more awake too but there were tears in her eyes and he rushed to her side. “What did you do to her!" “I did nothing, what did you do to her” John responded as he turned to lean against Sherlock and whisper in his ear.

John watched the bed from Sherlock's arms. Sigyn held Loki and copied John’s gesture of quiet words in the only ear she would need. He watched as Loki froze and then shook, John heard sobs which turned to laughter as Loki scooped Sigyn off the bed and stepped magically though the entire wall, like it was the illusion, before heading towards the reception area. He heard more laughter and walked beside Sherlock as they followed it at a human pace.

Loki smiled with tears on his face as he thanked the staff, he rejected the offer of a wheel chair, refusing to put his wife down so that she might simply walk. “Regular exercise is important in early pregnancy Loki" John had called to him but this was irrelevant for the moment. “Maybe a taxi rather" Sherlock had suggested which made sense as stepping through space had taken him practice and took effort so there was no way to know its effect on a baby. “Loki, get them home first Love" His beautiful, glowing, miraculous wife had chided gently as he had turned for the door. “We'll wait" Two smiling men had said in almost perfect unison and they did wait, quite patiently until Loki strode out from a different doorway and embraced them both.

Arms lock around chests and shoulders as the three men embraced tightly over the good news. Loki dropped his head to Sherlock’s shoulder and said a quiet thanks in John’s ear. When they left the hug they were back in Baker street. “We will visit as much as we are able. John I hope you’ll remain in attendance of Sigyn's condition" Loki turned to John who looked a bit crescent fallen. “I’m not an obstetrician, a birthing doctor.” “But she would prefer you by her side, even if you’re only consulting. I believe you’re familiar with the practice of consultation” He flicked his gaze to Sherlock who was glowing, and Loki knew that look very well. He had worn it just that morning, pride in his partner, and a fathomless depth of love

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