#i’m throwing myself neck deep into game of thrones again as well to like

[ronnieiswriting]

BY DORNE PART 3

F!reader x Oberyn Martell No descriptive terms for reader, no use of y/n, EXPLICIT, ongoing

Part 1 Part 2

Important: set WELL before the events in Game of Thrones/ Book one of ASOIAF- King Aerys Targaryen is on the throne, Elia Martell is alive, Ellaria Sand is not in the picture (yet?) and Oberyn doesn’t have any daughters yet. As for the universe this is set in, Each major house (Starks, Tyrells, Arryns, Martells etc) are the families that run each region of Westeros but with a 70s backdrop instead of a high fantasy one.

The reader is Oberyn’s favourite arm piece- one he brings to lots of events. He’s known as the hungriest of all the Martells and he likes to prove that to anyone who might question that, therefore, its no secret that Oberyn has had a number of partners and sometimes multiple at once, men and women. Insatiable appetite aside, Oberyn hasn’t enjoyed spoiling any girl as much as he does you, and he’s set on keeping you around for as long as you can keep up with him.

TAGS!!: female masturbation (descriptions, references, partner watches), subtle power play, 70s circle beds, crotchless romper, lots of praise, implied oral f receiving, other sex acts implied/ referenced, feelings, a little bit of angst at the end. ENJOY (if I missed any tags pls let me know!!)

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

If you had expected any other words to be the first from your lover’s mouth the second he found you- after almost two months apart- you would've been disappointed. The first thing he had done, however, was pull you to him eagerly and greet your starved lips with a searing kiss. When you had separated only for the necessity of air, Oberyn had started remapping your body with his hands as if he had forgotten it in his absence.

You hummed against him, arms circling around his neck where his dark curls brushed against your skin. It had gotten longer since he had been away- you wondered if he planned to get it cut soon. “I missed you.” you told him, drawing in a breath of his cologne.

Oberyn groaned. “Honey, did you touch yourself?” His hands climbed up further, thumbs brushing against the sides of your breasts.

You nodded. “Of course I did. I missed every bit of you with every part of me.”

His brow creased in response. The world forgotten, Oberyn led you in the direction of his room. “How many times.”

You weren’t oblivious to the power you had over the man currently attacking your neck with desperate lips, and you couldn’t deny its effect on you- his effect on you- a welcome kind of intoxication. You gave him an answer, “I lost count.”

He nodded against you, lips dragging and stubble catching across your skin when he looked away to fumble with door handles. After he cursed them for sticking, he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll forget all about your fingers when I’m done with you.”

When he finally got the double doors open it was you that pulled him inside, slamming one shut again by shoving his back against it and the other with a kick.

He looked at you differently then- still like an animal of course- for you had never known the hunger running deep in his pitch black eyes to ebb its flow. But this look came when you would reach out and touch the power you had. And nothing needed to be said, no words to acknowledge the truth- the way Oberyn looked at you let you know exactly how he felt about you seizing power.

The hardening length of him pressing against the inside of your thigh also got the message across without spoken language.

You leaned into the sensation and ran a hand up his chest, along the thick chain of his heirloom necklace. Dropping your voice only slightly, you said “Why don’t I show you?”

Oberyn was leaning forward so far on the vanity stool that you were almost sure he’d fall off it and get a mouthful of the brightly coloured shag rug that covered one side of the room. He watched intently as you draped yourself over his circle bed, pulling back the sheer curtain on your way in a manner you hoped was seductive.

Since you knew Oberyn was coming back that day, you’d made a point to wear one of his favourite pieces- a slinky, lace romper with only a few skimpy panels of silk. Though, what he liked about it most (other than the way it barely brushed the tops of your thighs- and the fact that it was sinfully crotchless) was the colour; not the typical warm orange or bright yellow that the Martell’s so famously covered everything in. You were like a beacon in the room as soon as you took off the earth-toned dress you were wearing, capturing the man before you as he drank in the sight of the romper- rich, royal purple.

He had muttered something that sounded remarkably like an old Dornish verse at the garment, swallowed, and restrained himself to the seat where he adjusted himself shamelessly.

Once you had gotten situated against the pile of velvet cushions set up against the arched bedhead, you stretched for effect, reaching high so he’d get a good view of the way your pert nipples peaked against the fabric. Seeking the rush from his response, you looked at him through your lashes and let out the faintest of moans.

His full lips tugged up at that, edging impossibly closer to the foot of the bed. You found yourself wondering how he would look kneeling for you… another time, you thought.

When he smiled fully, you were unable to resist mirroring it. “Go on, baby.” he said, voice strained with admiration. “Show me how you missed me.”

You obliged him, edging a hand down between your legs that you parted wide for your man to see. When you reached your uncovered sex, your eyes locked onto Oberyn’s as you spread yourself open with your fingers and felt the wetness that had began to gather there. It started slowly, your digits easing the anticipation into a low pressure that made your entire body relax further into the plushness of the bed.

He praised the sight, “That’s it, honey.” and you agreed with a lazy hum.

For a few minutes, you were content with the languid pace at which you teased yourself, running fingers up and down your slit and coating your lips with your arousal. Sufficient pressure built, you tilted your hips towards him and pulled one fingertip over your clit. The pleasure was instantaneous but you resisted throwing your head back in favour of maintaining eye contact with the man at the end of the bed. You noticed that he had scooted the chair forward and contorted himself to be eye-level with your cunt, elbows on his knees, one thumb tracing his bottom lip as he drank you in. He began to compliment you again, “Sweet honey, you look so-” but you cut him off when you moaned his name- circling the bud again to the sound of his voice catching. Before you could hold back the flutter of your eyes at the sensation, you saw the devilish smirk that took to Oberyn’s lips. He repeated the sentiment slower this time and complete, matching each word to the tempo of your fingers, “Sweet, sweet honey. You look so fucking gorgeous.”

It was then that you were suddenly, painfully aware that the man who was so good at pleasing you was so close to you and yet wasn’t touching you- not his hands nor his lips or his cock. His tender words were nowhere near your ear and they weren’t kissed into your skin- it was as if he had become the presence you imagined when he was away. And while the both of you were so clearly enjoying the dynamic, it was an intense thing to act out what you had done to imitate his affections in front of him. There was a rush to it- something exciting about showing him how you could superficially replace him- and the powerful feeling you got out of it easily outweighed the frustration of not having him between your legs right then.

Oberyn seemed to enjoy it as much as you did. You coaxed yourself closer to release with one digit slipping just inside every few swipes. You could hear him through it, his voice harmonising with each breathy moan from you and it sounded like he was repeating phrases- thanking the gods for what he was witnessing, cursing himself for not coming back sooner, praising you, encouraging you- and you could tell he was dying to touch himself.

Though you had intended to watch him the whole time, your eyes kept rolling with the effort to chase a climax. Looking at him again, you could’ve pounced on him- he had shifted upright and was working idly at the buttons on his shirt, never taking his eyes off you. He noticed the way your attention drew to the tent in his pants because you showed your appreciation by wetting your lips and arching your back, fingers never stopping.

You moaned his name again and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going to touch myself. To think I’d come in my hand when your pussy is right in front of me- now that would be an insult.”

You replied without thinking, “You don’t have to come- you--” you paused to squirm, finding a better angle, “You could just stroke yourself a bit?” You were offering him the chance to even the dominance, maybe even take all of it. You’d let him.

It was a vain effort and a suggestion he refused entirely. “If I’m going to make you forget about your fingers- I need to see what they can do, right? I need to know what I’m up against.” He returned to his previous position, chain swinging heavily into his bare chest, hands locked together on his knees and gaze set on your dripping centre. “Don’t let up, sweetness, okay.”

His words encouraged you to go faster still and you moaned louder. When you started to thrust two fingers inside yourself everything felt enhanced. Your feet slid against the sheet as you struggled to ground yourself through the rapidly increasing intensity and your gasping breath turned into a string of words, “Gods, Oberyn- I missed you so much.” and “Did this every night- in every room.” A feat you exaggerated a little- Oberyn’s mansion was a relatively small building next to the Martell manor but it couldn’t be called humble. Your whole body started to burn when you told him how you missed his cock.

He didn’t hesitate to rouse you further, telling you how much he missed you- namely, “Your sweet cunt…” You lost sight of him when your head finally fell completely back into the mass of pillows but his voice rang equally insistent and lustful. “You’re my best girl, honey.” he said as you continued to tightly swirl your clit. “My sweet lover- that’s it, baby- so good for me.”

Tantalizingly close now, you reached under the romper to flick your nipples, squeezing because you desperately craved the same level of stimulation he’d so often saturate you with. Chasing that feeling further, you tried to hit your clit with the thumb of the same hand you fucked yourself on but you couldn’t.

For a second you almost gave up and asked him to help you come- add a finger- anything. But he got you there before you could even get out a word or a pleading moan. Oberyn’s praises came again and he practically begged you to come for him. “Come for me so I can make you come again and again. Let me prove that I missed you... Come so I can fuck you so good you forget the entire world--”

Your climax came out with a choked sob and in a white hot flash that drained all the feelings in your body. All of you went limp but your chest heaved in the air. The bliss was incredible and well-earned but there was so much more to be had.

With the little energy you could muster, you beckoned to him with the same fingers you pulled from yourself. They were still glossy with your slick but barely had the chance to cool in the air as Oberyn’s lips quickly latched around your fingers. His tongue swirled to devour your spend and hungry hands roamed over your tired thighs that trembled in the aftershock.

Kissing your knuckles once he had licked you clean, he moved the same hand to the crown of his head and encouraged you to grab hold. He gave your other hand the same treatment before he moved his lips over your thighs, massaging the tension from them with the pads of his fingers. “My turn.” he mumbled into your skin.

By the time Oberyn had proved himself better than your fingers, the sky was beginning to turn purple with dawn. When he had found you that day it had been just after 10pm.

Somehow, though, whether due to miraculous pacing or because neither of you had so recently exerted yourselves, you and Oberyn were still wide awake. He emerged from between your thighs again- this time without a heavy pant or a shiny chin- with a washcloth in his hand. Coming up to sit back fully on his knees, he unashamedly looked you over.

The purple romper had been folded down around your waist and you were sure one of the straps were broken from the force it had been yanked down with. He smirked proudly at the number of hickies he had left all over your skin as many of them would be seen regardless of what you wore. “You look good.” he said.

Oberyn was quite a sight himself. When he removed himself from the bed to return the cloth to his ensuite, you admired the way his skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat. His hair stuck out in every direction and before he disappeared behind the doorway, he rolled his shoulders and neck with a happy groan. You called out to him, “You make me look good.” Then, put off by the feeling of the lace against you, you kicked off the romper fully and stretched back out on the bed.

He replied, “I don’t agree with a single word of that, baby.”

When he came back into the room, you couldn’t help but admire the almost comical way in which he had shrugged on his favorite robe but not bothered with affording himself any more modesty in it than he had completely naked. You took the opportunity to ogle him openly, proud of the marks you had left on him and he wasted little time in crossing the room again to rejoin you on the bed. When he had gotten comfortable situated between your legs, this time on his back, with his head resting on your stomach and arms slung over your thighs, Oberyn looked up at you fondly. “I do think I proved myself though.”

“To who?”

That smug smile returned, “Well, to you.” Then he looked to think on it for a moment, pondering as his fingers drew half-thought images across the skin of your thigh. “Proved that I’m still good enough for you.”

You didn’t even bother to hold back from rolling your eyes. “You know that’s ridiculous, Oberyn.”

Oberyn nodded, warm eyes drooping before closing softly. “Mmhmm” he hummed.

It settled like that for a while. You stroked his hair, drawing more relaxed hums from him while a question started bubbling up in your mind.

You pushed it aside for a different one, “Why don’t we do something tomorrow?”

“Can’t, I’m afraid.” He sighed, “Doran wants me to come in first thing to review some clause in the trade documents with Lys- something about a weird shipment- it's all very complicated really. I’m sure he’ll find a way to keep me there longer too and spring more papers on me or something.” When he finished the silence started to sting. “I’m sorry, honey. You know I’d love to-”

You refused to let him get to the “but” in that sentence, “It’s okay--really! I mean we just did a lot… Maybe later in the week?”

Oberyn kissed your hand. He was visibly relieved of the tension diffusing between you.“You got it, honey.”

Oberyn left about an hour later, giving you a tender kiss on the forehead and the promise of “soon”. The warm spot beside you and the marks on you were the only tangible signs that Oberyn had even been there at all and you lamented the fact that they too would be quick to flee as the rest of him had.

You hated to pout but it was easy when your lover had barely spent a day with you before being snatched away again by something more important. Important, demanding or serious -any similar word- was more so because you were relatively less. You- unlike business or politics or events- could wait on his bed all day and night for his return.

Ultimatums weren’t known to be answered romantically every time. And you swore to yourself that you’d never force him to choose. Nevertheless, the seed of doubt had been planted and the casualness of your relationship with Oberyn nurtured it against your better judgement.

You stewed over these thoughts long into the morning, staring up at the canopy butt-naked.

He had told you something before he left for King’s Landing two months ago that you remembered suddenly. “... you are the reason I am going to rush back to Dorne.”, the unspoken idea there being that he would value your company above the general comfort of familiarity. You had almost told him then how you felt about him, but a nagging feeling had told you to hold it in and now you had to suffer under the weight of more doubts and insecurities.

Maybe if you had, he would have been able to clear up half of the doubts you were festering over- maybe he would have said he loved you too. It was a selfish thought but irresistible all the same and you were too quickly lulled into indulging in it.

#oberyn martell #prince oberyn #prince of dorne #oberyn au #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #oberyn fanfic #pedro pascal #game of thrones au #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf #modern!oberyn #ronnie's actual writing #ronnie's aus

[intensitystoner]

Scribble for @sifkiweek

Day 2 - AU

~2,000 words (attempt at lil’ humour)

Jotunheim was nothing but ice on the surface, such a vast layer over the original soil of the planet that most forms of life couldn't survive here. The few cold-bearing pines that arched towards the sky heedless of the chilling storms had been here long before the Jotunn arrived and the winter they brought along killed all other creatures and plants; this was one of the few superfluous facts that Sif knew, besides ways to find food on foreign land or to recognise the enemy.

Instead of lore, she excelled at warfare: this is what brought her here with the golden armies of Asgard, to take over control and gift the land with their culture and technology. She saw this as a great opportunity to prove worthy of her title. Many people had doubts about her, some had the most insulting accusations. She deemed it wise to stabilise her reputation at this opportunity by delivering a few Frost Giant heads back into the camp from the solo scouting mission she volunteered for among others.

That said, there had been no Giants in sight for what felt hours of wandering in the bone-bursting chill. The ever-present snow gnawed its way under the protective layers of her neck-high armour and padded cloak. Valiant Sif soon got bored of the monotonous rows of icebergs, ice valleys, ice canyons and ice plains. She started looking for caves, through the derivation that the giant inhabitants must be hiding away in fear of her. She ventured into a cavity under a cliff, with icicles hanging off from it like a coarse beast's fangs. She crept bravely inwards in the deepening dark, stumbling occasionally as she tried keeping a hand against the wall, determined that such a difficult place must be a hideout, and she would bring back the desired slain heads from here if it killed her. But Norns, how deep were those miserable beasts tucked away?

She startled when a small light flashed into her eyes, but she quickly figured out that it was the end of the corridor beyond a bend, and with breaths eased, she stepped outside.

Almost immediately, splashing of water hit her ears. Frowning at the peculiarly misplaced sound, she turned to observe the thick bundle of mist. Then she recoiled and reached for her sword, although she hesitated to believe what she perceived: there, in the middle of the snow field, was a steaming pool, and in it, a Frost Giant crouching, presumably washing something.

There were so many peculiarities about this that she couldn't enumerate them at once. So she settled with carefully drawing her sword and creeping up on the vile being for a long awaited death match for valour.

Her hand was halfway towards the handle when a crude bellow interrupted:

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, barging in like that? Can't you see I'm defenceless?"

Astonishment made her hover for a moment, but she quickly remedied it by swinging the blade into an attack stance before her. Encouraged by the comforting metal in her grasp, she responded:

"I will never trust your word or your demeanour, monster! Prepare yourself, for this is the last day you see this meagre sunlight!"

"How dare you?" came the low hiss as an answer.

Vengeful assault it is, then. Her eyes narrowed in preparation for the well expectable offence, her muscles tensed as the figure moved.

When he stood, she noticed three things consecutively: the giant, uniquely, had pitch dark hair of shoulder length; he was but the size of an Aesir, the scrawniest Jotunn she had seen; and – she gasped – he was naked, and his nakedness didn't stop below the hips as he rose, eventually presenting himself in his entire unveiled glory.

"You've got some nerve, pointing that measly stick at me, Asgardian," said the not-so-giant one with hands on his hips like he weren't as bare and plain as a newborn.

Well, plain wasn’t entirely accurate, as he wore the intricate carvings of his kin all over the body, smooth curves following the muscles and other significant features – quite elegantly sculpted, at least for a barbaric Jotunn build, she thought with some untoward warmth throbbing in her temple. In this critical moment when life or death could be decided within a single breath, half of her attention got wasted on not to glance where his fingers on those unbelievably narrow hips were pointing.

"Are you perhaps dull?" mused the creature then and gestured with a full arm towards the cave entrance, forming each word clearly: "Make your way back where you came from, and I'll grant you mercy this one time; solely because I'm past an especially tiresome group hunt with imbeciles."

The insulting tone stirred Sif out of her stun.

"Or better," she spat, "I'll be the one to hunt you down, and we'll see who's dull. I'll let you get armed now and face me properly for the slaying. Move out, be quick about it!"

The measly but impudent Giant – or whatever it was, she was less and less sure – laughed at her soundlessly.

"All right," he said when he regained control over his breaths, "I see how we stand. But I know one even better." With eyes wide, he bent closer to share the excitement. "Getting armed to spar with you would be a waste of time. I'll fight you off unclothed like this."

She could have exploded from the perky glint in his eyes and the spread arms. Though she tried to stay untouched, anger – so she named the sensation – heated up her cheeks.

"You will learn your place soon enough," she promised mostly to herself, but she remained where she was for now, unsure of what to do: a victory against someone exposed and weak like this was not what she could have bragged about at home, and especially not if this was the only thing she brought back today.

"Oh, I’m sure it’ll be an easy win for you. If you climbed this high in the palace of gods, you won't even break a sweat killing someone like me, will you?"

So that’s what the game was about. He knew very well that her honour wouldn't let her fight an unarmed being, and he evaded the battle this way. No wonder he was trying to get away; with his size, he must have been a weak link, probably subject to continuous scorn. And his marks-

Dumbfounded, she lowered her sword and took a step closer for a better look, meanwhile noting how the movement didn’t even break his infinitely bored posture.

"A royalty," she breathed staring at the curved lines on his forehead, symbols for a crown or horns according to Aesir scripts. "You're meant for the throne? How is that possible? You're so-"

"Majestic, indeed," he cut in.

"Well, not quite-"

"I get it, knightess, you're wondering: how can such an eloquent being be found among barbarians?" The tiny Jotunn presented himself with both arms while speaking, in a languid stride towards the side of the steaming pool, undisturbed by Sif as she smoothly followed his procession with relentless steps and keen eyes. "Could the land of Frost Giants ever nurture something as refined, as poised, as glamorous as this? Could they hide something that no codices in the golden halls of Asgard tell about? Let me soothe your wonder: they can't. Yes, I am Laufey's son; yes, I will have the throne of Jotunheim, and then woe to all that have wronged me. But no, these brutes have no mind to hold me as the jewel in the swamps of their miserable existence,” he boasted while heading for a bundle of clothes on a cleared rock. “I have nurtured my own self, my own talents: everything you're ogling now has been grown through sheer discipline-"

He was about to bend down for the leathers when she stepped in; but before her blade would have stirred, his arm whipped towards her, and she grew motionless as something sharp dug into her neck. His face was languid, his eyelids low over his crimson look at her.

"I merely wish to dress, milady," he cooed like he was victim to the threat. "Won't you allow me this one boon?"

"It's Warmaiden for you, beast," she snarled as her breath let loose again. "And you better learn your place before you think again that I'm ogling anything."

She hid her relief over the fact that she had a voice, her skin intact, though the sharp thing was still pressed tight against her throat. And where in the Nine had he been hiding it up to now?

"I may grace you with your name on my lips, if you give mine due respect,” he replied while reaching for his clothes once again. “Namely, I am Loki, third son of Laufey, would-be King of-" His lofty words merged into a quiet snarl as his lowering arm got smoothly replaced with hers, the much longer sword keeping his chin up. "You may address me as Your Highness, shield maiden."

He uttered the title with such contempt that for an insulted moment, his insightful knowledge failed to catch her attention. But the epiphany reached her before she'd have retorted, and her sharp breath turned into a threatening hiss.

"How do you know so much?" she demanded.

And he laughed, once again that modest hissing sound under his breath, as if he weren't even doing it to mock her, and then he continued obtaining his clothes despite the blade grazing his skin.

"By reading. I taught myself runes, carving them into the snow," he admitted, though his tone felt a lot like he was but jesting. "I used the sharpened bones of my slain ancestors."

"You're an outcast, aren't you?" she inquired with her deepest scorn, just to retort.

That seemed to hit the mark.

“I'm a rightful heir of Jotunheim, and I'll live up to it," snapped the annoyingly fine-wired creature while winding the girdle and kilt around his hips with irate movements.

The Jotunn soldiers Sif had seen always settled with this amount of clothing, so she eyed him in mild surprise as he went on throwing the skin of a soft-furred beast around his shoulders, with her blade following the movements in loutish idleness.

"You may not live up to anything your people don't accept," she pointed out meanwhile. "I hear that resilience is power in this realm, which you seem to lack miserably. Your nation has yet to adopt some higher values."

"Higher values," the creature repeated with honest amusement. "You could list a hundred of those in one sitting, I bet."

"Tell me then, if you’ve read so much, what do you hold for one?"

"There is no light I could shed in your head, Asgardian," he said bending towards her to emphasize the statement. "Your mind is already set, the Allfather's teachings too deeply rooted within you since your birth."

"I only first saw Asgard after I came of age," she protested, too quickly before she'd have considered whether she owed him this excuse.

He took it in with a surprised arch of eyebrows. His exhale was audible when he turned to leave.

"Then you may have a glimmer of hope. Don't waste it. The nearest horde is wandering east of here, by the way, full of the dullest-"

"Waste what exactly?" she snapped while hurrying to catch up with him before he could elope or have time to catch her off-guard. "Do you really hold yourself so-"

"Fine, I'll be your guide. You could have just asked nicely, you know. You should be well aware of the benefits of courtesy, since you come here with your people to preach about it."

“I have no need of a guide,” she announced as they walked on side by side.

“Don’t you, now? How long exactly have you been circling around in the area again? Not even noting that you passed the most significant landmarks you’ll ever find here twenty-four times altogether? And this before I grew bored of you and retreated believing to be rid of you for good?”

“I don’t need a blabbering guide, like you,” she corrected, her look challenging.

“And yet here we are,” he announced brightly. “If you’re not attentive, you’ll find yourself my spouse after I obtained the throne.”

“You’ll regret that a thousand times, I’m not marriage material.”

“Challenge accepted.”

An abrupt silence followed as their thoughts caught up to the mutual jest, filled with unintended smiles. Not yet giving it much significance, they carelessly trudged on in the snow on their joint path.

#sifkiweek21 #sifki #da orky writing

[the-chick-of-the-air]

Fool Me Once, I’ll Fool You Too

Summary: As a way to exact revenge in Locke after finding love letters addressed to Taryn, Jude goes to some interesting lengths to show she won’t be messed with. Set during Cruel Prince, when Locke throws his revel and invites Jude to stay. One-shot.

Jude was seething, however she plastered a gratuitously large grin on her face, clinging to Locke’s arm as one would if they were absolutely taken with their partner.

She was, decidedly, not.

After Locke had left her to change into his mother’s dress, Jude had wandered back into his room to wait for him. Upon doing so, she took note of something she hadn’t before when they were dallying in there last. Notes and parchment on his writing desk.

Of course, she knew she shouldn’t. His personal, private property was his. However, Jude was a naturally curious creature, and perhaps slightly mischievous. And Locke had shown her so much, what would he care if she read a boring letter to someone?

She picked up the first one with an impish grin on her face, always ready to collect more ammunition against even those closest to her.

The smile quickly faded from her face when she read the first words.

My dearest Taryn.

A love letter. Of course this had been too good to be true.

As she read further, contempt grew and a decision was made.

Jude would not play the fool in whatever story Locke was weaving. She would not be a pawn in yet another person’s game. She would rectify this little misshapen issue through some form of revenge. She just didn’t know what yet. However, Locke himself had stated how revels were the perfect breeding ground for chaos. Surely an opportunity would arise.

Now they had made it to the center of the garden maze and Jude was hanging off Locke’s arm like a love sick girl hoping to garner her partner’s full attention.

She had to hand it to him. He played the role of doting boyfriend deceptively well. He tugged her around, tucked her hair behind her ears, looked into her eyes and waxed poetic about how beautiful she was. And when they were in the center of it all, finally in the party, where the most people could see- how had she been so blind?- he pressed his lips to hers in a heart melting kiss.

Her resolve grew ice cold. She was going to ruin him in the most beautiful way, and possibly take her sister down with him.

Locke pulled away from her, grinning from ear to ear and earnestly gazing into her face with those fox eyes.

In an attempt to look shy and besotted in the face of such affections, Jude bit her lip and glanced away.

And locked eyes with a cruel prince.

Cardan was lounging on a blanket in the grass. A Pixie girl was leaning against him, running her hands along his exposed chest as she kissed the golden liquid from the corner of his mouth. Another girl placed her lips on his calf, just above his boot.

When he locked eyes with Jude, he held her gaze, even as the Pixie girl captured his lips with hers.

Had she not been so angry just then, Jude may have felt hot embarrassment at the intense look he was giving her. She may have misread the look as contempt or hate, or any of the other various negative descriptive words usually associated between them. However, having just spent the day with a seemingly smitten Locke, she knew the look Cardan was giving her all too well.

Lust.

Desire.

Longing, even.

And a wicked plan formed in Jude’s head.

This was perfect. Cardan, in one form or another, wanted her for some reason- she would have to dissect that later- and Locke was playing her for all she was worth. There was a way she could gain the upper hand over both of them.

Cardan wanted her. Locke was playing her. She was livid and ready to watch the world burn from atop a throne of cinders.

Absently, she wondered if this was how Locke constantly felt as he wove his frantic epics with threads of people’s lives. One way to find out.

When Locke grabbed her chin and turned her face towards him, Jude grinned and slipped her arms around his waist. Seemingly innocent as she slowly turned them so Locke’s back was to an eavesdropping Cardan, and she had a full view of the dark haired prince.

Two could play his little game as well. She smiled at Locke until he closed his eyes and leaned in. Over his shoulder, Jude cast a sinister, inviting smile at Cardan, holding his gaze as her lips met Locke’s.

Cardan’s cheeks pinked in a way she had never seen before, and he lazily looked away, now seemingly uncomfortable with the two girls clinging to him. Perfect.

Before it could go too far, Jude pulled away from Locke’s kiss and smiled sweetly up at him. Never had she been gladder for her ability to lie. Deception was in her nature. Betrayal in her blood.

She was about to request a drink in order to get him to leave, but Locke made her job easier saying, “I’m afraid I have to go greet some guests. I won’t be long.” He began to move away.

Jude painted on a pout and ran her hand down his chest, inwardly cackling as his gaze grew dark, “Just when I thought I could keep you to myself.”

Playing into her hand, Locke pressed in, kissing at her temple, at her hairline. Jude took this as an opportunity to catch Cardan’s gaze again. He was watching with a clenched jaw as the Pixie girl whispered something in his ear, pouting when she didn’t get a reaction.

Locke pulled away, saying, “Try to have fun, Duarte. I’ll find you later.”

Jude smiled softly as she watched him go, “Don’t be long.”

He smirked and took off.

Jude squared her shoulders and faced Cardan.

He was watching her with that dark gaze as the Pixie girl pressed sloppy kisses to his neck and shoulders. The other girl had disappeared.

Jude turned to a passing server, grabbed a goblet of that golden wine off the tray and made her way to the prince.

She stopped at the edge of his blanket, reveling in the way his eyes went wide. Surprise looked ridiculously attractive on him. Jude took a sip of the wine, nearly shivering at the strange feeling of fuzzy delight that entered her mind. However, it wasn’t nearly enough to shake her of her objective. Have fun, Locke had said. Oh, she intended too. She toed at the Pixie girl’s shoulder, sending her sprawling over Cardan’s lap.

Cardan glanced between the two, waiting to see what would happen. The Pixie girl whirled around and glared at Jude, who, in turn, simply rose an elegant brow.

“You,” Jude gestured at the girl with her goblet, “Scram.”

“Excuse me?” The girl asked in an annoyingly high voice. How Cardan had put up with her assumed prattling, Jude had no clue. “How dare you?!” She turned to the prince with a fake smile, “Cardan, can yo-”

“You should go.” He told the Pixie girl, eyes on Jude.

The girl spluttered for a moment before dejectedly getting up and leaving, shooting a scathing glare at Jude as she passed.

Jude took another sip of wine.

“You,” Cardan pointed at her, imitating the tone she had used, “Sit.”

Normally, she would fight back, tell him…well something that would probably alarm Taryn. Something that would heighten this war between them. But she was playing a game. Not unlike chess, and she had to make her next moves carefully.

Delicately, she lowered herself next to the prince, sitting just close enough that their shoulders brushed.

“You were watching me.” She stated, looking out over the crowd.

Cardan reached for the goblet and she gave it to him without a fight. It had been for him anyway, “You were watching me.” He took a long drink and settled his gaze on her.

Jude caught sight of Locke in the crowd, moving around as revel-goers danced and laughed and tumbled around one another. He would be making his way over soon. All the more reason to speed things along.

She turned to face Cardan, so close their noses were brushing. “Tell me,” she began, lifting her fingers to his jawline, “what do you think of me?”

“I hate you.” He answered without hesitation, lifting his own fingers to her ear. She did not shiver at the touch.

“Mhmm, and tell me,” she leaned in past his mouth, so her lips were against his ear. He defiantly did shiver, “when you hate someone,” she whispered, trailing fingers across his collarbone, “do you think of them often?”

Cardan froze, and Jude recalled a piece of paper, her name furiously scribbled across it again and again and again. The prince was being quiet. She knew he wasn’t ignoring her, he was taking deep breaths as though to steady himself. He was being quiet to avoid telling her something.

She would get it out of him. She nudged at his temple with her nose, making his head bob a little, “Tell me.” She wasn’t so foolish as to think she had any sort of control over him other than her own assumptions. If she was right…

Her hands danced across his chest and his fingers drifted to her hair. Locke would be coming back soon, she had to move things along.

“Hmm? How much time do you spend thinking of me? Of what you would do to me if I was in your control?” She asked in that same whisper, hands going to his hair. She placed a kiss to his jawline, which was tight with tension, she noted. “What goes on in that twisted mind of yours?”

Cardan inhaled sharply, pulling his head back to look her in the eye. Slowly, he leaned in, knowing what he was about to confess would change the course of their story. But he couldn’t lie and she wouldn’t quit. He brought his free hand to her elbow, gripping it tightly.

“Why do you hate me so?” Jude asked in a soft whisper, breath brushing over his mouth. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear his gaze softened, just a little.

This. This was good, he could tell a partial truth. Throw her off kilter. Get her to either stop torturing him with that maddening touch of hers or get her to delve in deeper with him. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more.

“I hate you because your family loves you.”

Not what she was expecting, but they were getting somewhere. She pressed closer to him, sliding one arm over his shoulder. Slowly, she buried her face into the crook of his neck, pressing her lips to the smooth column of his throat, he groaned, “Why else?” She asked against his skin.

Cardan squeezed his eyes shut, far more sober then he needed to be for this, but he couldn’t drink the wine she gave him while she had him trapped, her lips making slow, agonizing work of his neck. He had to stay focused.

“I hate you because even though you’re not one of us, will never be one of us…you fit in here better than I do.”

Jude gripped his hair and forced his head back so she could look him in the eye. She was practically on top of him now, had moved to straddle his waist in a way that was driving him wild, she could see it. She brought her lips as close to his as she could without touching.

“That’s it? No better reason?”

The hand on her elbow shifted until it was pressing into her back, pressing her closer. He was quiet and avoiding her gaze, wanting to evade some truth. She wouldn’t let that happen. She tugged at his hair, garnering a sharp hiss from him, “Tell me.” She insisted.

Cardan closed his eyes and leaned forward, slightly disheartened when she moved with him, keeping their lips from touching.

“Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting and I can’t stop.”

And that had been the absolute last thing she had expected him to confess to. But as she gazed down into his face, his eyes now open, she realized he was telling the truth. Not like he could lie anyway.

He still wouldn’t meet her gaze, instead he was looking over her shoulder at the blanket they were resting on. Jude gripped his chin and forced him to look up. When he finally met her gaze, she could read the feelings there. Fear, desire.

“You really do want me… and you hate it.” She could feel the odd sensation of shame dripping down her spine, but it paled in comparison to the absolute glee she felt at having this sort of power of him. Over a prince of Elfhame. Playing this game would be easier than she thought.

Without checking to see if Locke was behind them like she hoped he was, she took the leap and pressed her mouth to Cardan’s.

It was wrong and right and horrible and beautiful. Like waltzing over a blade, the risk of falling and slicing yourself in half potent and tangible, but the adrenaline spike that followed was worth the danger. The high of doing something you shouldn’t and getting away with it coursing through the moment, squeezing them like a vice.

Cardan gripped her tighter and for a bizarre moment she thought he was being cautions, but then it hit her that he was holding himself back, not allowing himself to let go with her. He didn’t want this, but he did, and he hated the both of them for it.

How sweet it was that this was a public moment.

Unwilling to let him control his emotions, she bit at his bottom lip, and apparently that’s the last his resolve could take.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her so tightly against him she could feel every part of them that pressed together, couldn’t find where she ended and he began. He started kissing her in earnest and she nearly had to stop just to marvel at how much pent up emotion was behind the action. His hands were on her shoulders, in her hair, forcing her mouth closer so he could gain better access. She granted it to him.

The sound of the goblet knocking over shocked him out of his haze and he pulled away from her as though she’d burned him. His breathing was labored and when he noticed the goblet was knocked over, golden liquid seeping into the blanket he let out a surprised laugh.

Jude ran her fingers through his hair somewhat gently. Not in a gesture of goodwill, but it was something. A promise that something had changed and charged between them.

Then someone cleared their throat behind them.

Both Cardan and Jude’s heads snapped in the direction of the sound to see Locke standing there, arms crossed, a carefully crafted scowl painted on his face.

Jude grabbed Cardan’s face and planted one last, lingering kiss to his lips. She ran her fingers softly down his cheek when she pulled away, then stood and began moving towards Locke.

Her eyes narrowed and a scowl of her own-genuine and heated- graced her features. Cardan was running his hands through his hair, trying to control his breathing.

“I have to go.” She snipped at Locke. And as she left, she let the other shoe drop, “You should go make sure my sister isn’t seeing anyone behind your back.”

With that growled sentence she stomped off, deliberately putting the thought of Cardan’s soft lips on her own out of her mind for now. She reminded herself of a line from Locke’s love letter to Taryn to fuel her rage.

And at the coronation, I do promise quite the plot twist will be revealed. Then and only then shall I have you. After you have proven that your love for me is strong enough to withhold this information from your dear twin.

Jude stomped back into Locke’s estate, ripped off his mother’s dress and left it on his floor, but took the acorn with her. As she dressed in her own clothing, she plotted out her revenge on her next target.

Taryn.

Unbeknownst to her she had activated a new player on this twisted game board. Cardan, the prince who had to fight to get his breathing back under control as Locke shouted at him about his “stupid crush ruining his plans.”

He couldn’t bring himself to care. Didn’t care that Jude had used him as a way to get back at Locke. All he knew was that after that night, he wanted to work towards something he had honestly wanted with her for a long time.

A truce.

That’s that! Please let me know what you guys think and feel free to re-blog:) ❤️

Tag-list: (please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future fic’s!)

@cardan-greenbriar-tcp @woodsbeyond1 @thewickedkings @aneurwin @snusbandxknifewife @jurdanhell

#cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #jurdan #jude x cardan #the cruel prince #locke:thecruelprince #tcp #tqon #twk #revengekissing

[go--ask--alice]

Exordium

The Librarian

One morning, trying to be cheeky, Alice sent J a series of selfies in various states of undress and told him to come find her. Like a trail of bread crumbs it led him to a small tucked away staircase leading to the third floor of his expansive home. The Joker’s personal library is housed up there. And like Beast with his Belle, J allowed Alice free reign over the stacks of books. It’s one of her favorite places on the entire property.

Alice also has recently gotten a [tattoo] on her wrist in honor of J. Something that let’s the whole world know who she belongs to.

🃏: Joker

👑: Alice

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

👑 *On the floor is a trail of clothes. My bra, yoga pants, and finally at the bottom of the library stairs laid out perfectly neat are my panties.*

🃏 *I pick up your panties and hold them to my nose. Your scent makes me hard. I run up the stairs and into the library.* Alice… I think you dropped a couple of things. Come out and I’ll only spank you a little.

👑 *You find me, buried in a book, glasses on the end of my nose, totally naked and lounging in one of the plush high back chairs.* Oh, hi Daddy! What took you so long?

🃏 *The sight of you leaves me panting. I drop my phone and walk towards you slowly.* You… Alice, are a delicious sight. Are you my new librarian? I can only hope so. I need help finding a few books. One about punishment and another about a princess.

👑 *I push my glasses up and sigh. Setting my book down slowly.* Well I suppose sir. Hmm punishment.. medieval? Bondage? Or more of a general overview?

🃏 *You in glasses and nothing else makes my cock swell.*

👑 I think we have a great volume on knot tying somewhere?

🃏 *I involuntarily pound my fist when you say knot tying.* Th…that one.

👑 Excuse me sir.. please keep it down.

🃏 *My heartbeat is ripping through my chest.* Sorry Miss.

👑 So.. knot tying. Anything else you may need sir? Or is this it?

🃏 I’m so excited. It’s been a while since I read a nice, big, thick book. *I grab my crotch.*

👑 Oh you could just get lost in a good book..

🃏 I’d like a book about princesses please. Preferably a curious one. *I admire your body as you move about.*

👑 Hmm there are so many to choose from… would you like one from Grimm? They have quite the extensive body of work.

🃏 *You have an extensive body of work, grrrrr.* Choose one for me? I trust your judgement.

👑 *I pull an old leather bound first edition. I’m honestly shocked you own this but makes me so happy.* Lewis Carroll… 1865… not technically about a princess, but very very curious none the less.

🃏 *I give you a wide metal smile.* And this curious girl, will I enjoy reading about her escapades?

👑 Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland… Oh most definitely! She falls into a mad upside down world where nothing makes sense yet everything is just right. There’s a crazy man that she meets, he’s my favorite. You’ll probably like him too.

🃏 *I draw closer to you, trapping you against a wall of books.* Really? Your favorite you say? And why would I like this crazy man?

👑 Can I tell you a secret?

🃏 *Leans in close.* My lips are sealed. Tell me.

👑 *I lean in right to your ear.* I think your curious girl? She falls completely in love with that mad man.

🃏 *Throws my head back and moans.* She must be mad herself.

👑 She is.. a bit. But their particular brand a crazy, seems to be a perfect fit. She’s his missing chess piece. He’s her perfect puzzle piece.

🃏 *I reach forward and cup you between the legs.* Perfect fit…. hmmmm…. I think I like that. Yes, I’d like to check that one out.

👑 I think you’ll love it sir. *I’m struggling to keep my composer.*

🃏 *I pull a Joker card out of my pocket.* I brought my library card.

👑 Excellent. *I take the card and kiss it. A dark red lip print now marks the front. I hand it back.*

🃏 *I stick it back in my pocket proudly.* And what if I don’t return this book on time? Will I have to pay a fee? *I run my finger up your slit.*

👑 Mmhmm.. I’m afraid it’s a pretty steep fine too.

🃏 I’m a very rich man, I think I can pay it. *I keep rubbing your slit and bite my bottom lip.*

👑 Why Mr. Joker, in that case you should just buy it so you can keep it forever. *I don’t know how much longer I can keep this game up before I just fall apart.*

🃏 *I start rubbing faster, emboldened by you keeping in character despite your very wet pussy.* I might have to do that. I’d like to support this library. Just think of me as a patron of the arts.

👑 W..would you like to know the price sir..?

🃏 Very much so. *Rubbing faster still, my hand slickening with your arousal.*

👑 The.. price… *Whispers* oh god.. The price is a kiss… and…

🃏 *I smile as you fumble with your words and lean in closer.* A kiss and?

👑 *I lean in til our lips are barely touching* ..and your heart. *I put my hand over your heart, which is pounding like mad, and i kiss you.*

🃏 *I insert my finger inside of you as you kiss me and invade your mouth with my tongue.*

👑 *I collapse against you.*

🃏 *I continue to kiss you and insert another finger, pushing into your hot core.*

👑 *I moan into your mouth, my hands grasping at your shoulders.* Excuse me… sir.. *Fuck it! I can’t keep this game up any longer.* Oh god… *I give you a pleading look.* Please… I need you inside me.

🃏 *I grin and laugh a little. You’re so fucking adorable. I drop down to my knees.* Oh no Miss… I think I need to make a contribution first. Consider it my pledge to always honor the arts. *I pull your legs apart and stick out my tongue.* Have a fucking seat Alice.

👑 *I stumble backwards into the chair I was waiting for you in. I pull you with me, pushing your head down between my legs.*

🃏 *I start to kiss the insides of your thighs. I keep up the game wanting to tease you with your own saucy scenario.* I love a woman who likes to read. Maybe I’ll read you a story? *Licks your clit.*

👑 Oh yeah? I’m all ears Daddy…

🃏 *I bring my fingers to my lips.* Shhhhhhhh… keep your voice down. Once there was a curious girl who couldn’t keep her clothes on. So she took them all off and left a trail like a naughty little goldilocks. Ahem… I mean like Gretle. *I laugh lightly.* Anyway… *I suck on your clit.* She could not keep those clothes on no matter how she tried! Do you know this story?

👑 *I’m barely holding on. I try concentrating on your voice to keep me grounded.* It sounds… vaguely familiar…?

🃏 Only vaguely huh? She belonged to a criminal this curious girl, even without any clothes on she bored his mark. *I tug at your pussy lips with my teeth.*

👑 *I glance down at my wrist my smile.*

🃏 Do you know what that criminals name is?

👑 *I’m panting.* ….J…Joker…

🃏 Mmmm… That’s right Miss librarian. Do me a favor, say that one more time for me.

👑 Joker… *Your name drips off my lips like honey.*

🃏 *I love how you say it. It makes my cock feel heavy.* I’ll spell it out for you so you don’t forget. *I bend down and trace a “J” onto you slowly.*

👑 Oh fuck…

🃏 *I pool saliva and your juices onto my tongue as I trace the “O” It’s my favorite letter to trace.*

👑 Dadddddy…

🃏 *I stare up at you, my eyes wild with lust under a mound of green hair. I trace the “K” taking great pleasure in the upward stroke as I form the letter. The “E” is tricky fun. The upward stroke is easy but I drip excessive amounts of saliva and your juices onto you as I trace the horizontal bars of the letter. It looks obscene as I pull back with strings of moisture connecting me to your hot core.*

👑 *I nearly cum at the sight of your lips as you pull back.*

🃏 *I take extra time on the “R”. The stroke upward takes a sharp turn to the right and a delicious loop inward before leaning out of the letter. I can feel how tense your legs are as I grip them.* Are you OK Miss? You look a little flushed. Was it something I said?

👑 Daddy please…

🃏 Tell me what you need.

👑 I need to cum.

🃏 *I lay on my back fully clothed and unzip my pants releasing my cock.* Come sit on your throne Queen.

👑 *I pitch forward and crawl up your body.* Anything for you, my King.

🃏 *The sight of you crawling to me is beautiful.*

👑 *As I crawl I push your shirt up your torso. I kiss up your body, paying extra attention to the head of your hard cock.*

🃏 *My cock twitches involuntarily when you kiss it.* Unngggg… fuck! *I caress the side of your face.*

👑 You taste so good Daddy. *I trail my lips up your torso, I lick the lips of your smile tattoo.*

🃏 Come up here, I want to see your body.

👑 *I sit up, my pussy rubbing against your cock, you’re one slight move away from being inside me.*

🃏 *I bring my pelvis up and tease my cock along your pussy.*

👑 *I grind my hips against you.*

🃏 When Daddy’s cock goes inside, I want you to show me how much you need it. I want you to put on a little show for me. That’s it rub your pussy on Daddy’s cock. How does that feel?

👑 So good! You.. you want more Daddy…?

🃏 Give me more sugar. *I have both hands clenched and I’m focused on you. I can’t see anything else. My heart is pounding again.* Oh god Alice…. *I’m almost on the verge of begging you. I don’t know how that happened.*

👑 You ready daddy? *I raise my hips and angle myself directly over you. When we lock eyes again I slam down onto your cock, impaling myself on your hard body. I take no time and begin bouncing my hips, pushing you deep with each motion.*

🃏 Ready baby. Do it. Ohhhhhhhh fuck yes bounce on my cock Alice! Goddamn fuck! *I realize how amazing your tits are everytime I see them.*

👑 God Daddy you feel so good inside me!!

🃏 Fuck me hard baby. How much do you want me?

👑 Fuck Daddy! I want you so bad! You’re the one I want! The only one… oh god…

🃏 Mmmm… You. Are. Mine.

👑 Yours. *I have a very devious desire. I’m hesitant to ask but I know you’ll get off on it.* Daddy? Please c..ch..choke me Daddy..

🃏 *My hands are around your throat in an instant.* Ohhhhhhhh fuck!! *I don’t squeeze too tight. It’s your first time. I squeeze so you know I’m there. It feels amazing. Your tender exposed neck. You gave it all to me.* You like that? *I grip your throat with one hand and smack your face with the other.*

👑 Tha…thank you… Daddy!! *Your hands feel so good around my neck. I love feeling the power you have over me. I trust you completely. *

🃏 Mmmm…. so polite…. *Thanking me for fucking her while I choke her beautiful fucking throat.* You are fucking perfect.

👑 No Daddy… you.

🃏 *I feel like cumming. I’m starting to squirm hard underneath you.* Ohhhhhhhh fuck Alice!

👑 Daddy, do I make you feel good? Are you gonna cum for me..? I wanna feel you fill me up!

🃏 Ohhhhhhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna… cummmmmm.

👑 Thats it Daddy!!! Cum with me!! *Seeing you let go beneath is more than I can take.* Daddy!!! Fuck Daddy can I cum too???

🃏 Ohhhhhhhh goddamn Alice! *In one hard thrust I’m cumming hard into you with my hands around your throat. My orgasm is intense and I’m left shaking.*

👑 That’s it Daddy! Give me everything…

🃏 *I spill every drop inside of you* Alice…Thank you. *Panting* You have my soul.

👑 *I’m a quivering mess above you.* I love you J.

🃏 *I put my hands into your hair and kiss you passionately.*

👑 *I fall into your kiss. I can feel the words that you can’t say. I know the truth in your actions.*

🃏 *I sit up and continue to hold you and stay inside of you.* Alice… we have to stop meeting like this. *Smirk*

#exordium #ephemeris #joker #joker x alice #go ask alice #joker fanfiction #joker x oc #alice #j #07 #rp 2017 #tw smut #tw daddy kink #tw roleplay #tw choking

[enchanted-prose]

#11 Playing a Game, Solving a Puzzle

 I am publishing a chapter featuring thE BIRTHDAY QUEEN, PRINCESS AMARINDA OF BULTAIN!!!!

Word Count: 4,203

Characters: Amarinda, Tobias, Queen Danika’s Inquisitors (Original characters), Ayvar (Original character), Lord Feall (Original character)

Notes: Edited! I hope you really enjoy this one because I HAD TOO MUCH FUN WRITING IT!

ENJOY!

“That’s Falstan Stead, Cornwick, and Riverfront,” Amarinda sighed, crossing three town names off her list. She stretched out her gloved hands. “That’s everything, aside from Drylliad.”

Tobias tipped his canteen towards his hand, and wiped water across his forehead, “I’d be willing to go with you to Tithio if that’s what you wanted.”

A tempting offer, but Amarinda shook her head.

A gusty breeze whisked through her horse’s mane, the trees and their rustling leaves seemed to agree with her thoughts.

The scent of horse and her own unwashed body added to her frustration.

Come to think of it, her frustration was a large, decorative cake. The kind of cake with lines and lines of spun sugar, and tiers and tiers of cake itself. With each inconvenience, Amarinda was quietly adding a decoration to her frustration creation.

Oh how she longed to be rid of it; the cake had become extremely distasteful early on.

Fatigue was threatening to overtake her.

It was time.

It was time to return to Drylliad. Time for a hot bath, something with cream, and a few minutes of frustrated emotional release. She’d be prepared to handle all other situations after that.

Time to throw away her gaudy frustration cake.

Her riding boots became a little too tight the moment she thought about being able to take them off and walk through the castle lawns.

She’d ridden out with Queen Danika’s seven investigators two days before, and Tobias went with her without hesitation.

Together, they’d combed through every village within a reasonable radius of Drylliad, asking if they’d seen anyone fitting the predicted description of any surviving Thay member.

They heard a wide variety of rumors, but only one of them had enough credibility to almost be true.

Supposedly, Graer Thay had gathered an army, and he was somewhere in Carthya looking for his daughter too.

Too many theories cluttered Amarinda’s head. She prided herself on being perfectly organized, but without a clear path, she’d fallen into disarray. Tobias made her write everything down at one point. It helped, in a way. Having everything out in the open made thinking much easier.

Amarinda spent hours pouring over her decision. Though she’d come to Carthya at a tender age, she still had memories of Bymar. Still remembered learning how to fence with her cousin, Princess Eline, and Eline’s ladies-in-waiting.

Mireldis Thay was one of them.

Too much time had passed since Amarinda last saw Mireldis, she doubted she would recognize her.

The Thays were ghosts.

Rumors people clung to, a scapegoat the sixteen other noble houses dragged around to put their faults on.

A pin was coming loose from Amarinda’s hair. She shoved it back in, but to no avail; the pin only shifted.

Everything was much more enticing than admitting that they’d gone on a wild goose chase. Amarinda studied the patterns on her riding skirts. Studied the creases in her tan gloves. Studied the well kept road that would take her and her party back to the castle.

She’d stepped out on the stage, sang her magnificent aria, and took her final bow. The final encore was playing, it was time to face the music.

“I think it’s time to admit that we’re just chasing ghosts,” murmured Amarinda.

“Sounds like you’re saying Thay are ghosts,” Tobias grinned, eventually breaking into a stifled chuckle.

She couldn’t prevent her own smile. “That was clever.”

“I don’t like seeing you defeated, figured you needed a pick-me-up.”

His ability to notice her distress was comforting in a way. He was too good at making her understand that she was safe with him. “And what about you, Tobias? Are you in need of a pick-me-up?”

“You’re my pick-me-up, darling.”

“If you’re not careful, my blush will match my skirts.”

“I do like seeing you in that color.”

Amarinda shook her head, a laugh falling from her lips. She welcomed the play on words. She appreciated Tobias’s attempts to keep her happy.

But she was wasting time.

Even if the Thays were alive, they didn’t want to be found.

Who was she to take that from them?

The investigators, a little too slouched in their Bymarian uniforms, were waiting farther up the road. Their horses pawed the ground. Not one person called out a greeting.

Amarinda couldn’t blame them.

They were supposed to be scouring the countryside with Feall, not her.

However, she knew her value, and she still deserved to be treated with respect. The hairs on the back of her neck began to rise despite the sun shining on her back.

“Was anything found?” Amarinda asked, guiding her horse to the front of the group.

One of the investigators, a tall woman with pitch black hair, shook her head. “Thay must have known we were coming for her. I’m afraid she might have fled the area.”

“I would’ve fled the country,” muttered Tobias.

Which was probably what Mireldis Thay did, if she was alive. Amarinda was learning that she was ready to let the dead remain at peace. It wasn’t fair to drag memories through the mud.

“I would like a combined report from all of you that I can look over,” ordered Amarinda as she motioned for the investigators to follow her lead. “It seems our quest has failed.”

“We did make really good friendships,” Tobias argued, gesturing to the scowling investigators behind him.

His quiet humor really did manage to bring a lightness to any situation.

“You know, I think it would do good if you spoke to that young woman, Ayvar,” he mused.

“I know, I know. I wanted to participate in the investigation myself before I spoke to anyone. I was hoping we’d find Thay. Too many people are all too willing to impersonate royalty when given the chance.”

Tobias shrugged, “I can’t correct you there, and I’ve been in a similar situation.”

“That was insensitive, I’m-”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it was completely out of your control. Your statement is correct, and I wanted to attest to that. There was an opportunity to impersonate a missing person of power, Jaron, and many people seized that chance.”

“Conner’s gamble played out in Jaron’s favor,” Amarinda wrinkled her nose.

She hated admitting that her mind moved too quickly, hated admitting that sometimes she brought up old memories completely by accident.

Hated that she still said foolish things despite her training.

Hated that she inadvertently made connections.

Patterns were easy to her. She recognized patterns in history, and did her best to incorporate them into the present. Sometimes, Amarinda felt her head split into two sides.

One side was completely dedicated to her friends and family.

The other side was bent on finding every correlation imaginable.

It had taken years of practice to avoid bringing up Darius in a roundabout way in front of Jaron.

And she was still practicing the art of tenderly respecting the horrible game Bevin Conner forced her husband and two dear friends into.

“Now that you bring that up,” Tobias tilted his head. “I can see your concern. Why you would avoid bringing it up around Ayvar.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Oberson was involved somehow.”

“How so?”

How?

So many, many, many ways to usurp a kingdom-state, especially when there was already a family name taking all of the blame.

Bloody ways, stealthy ways, peaceful ways.

Too many ideas. Amarinda had to pick one. “Maybe he’s trying to put a puppet princess on the throne of Idunn Craich, marry her, kill her, and take the land. He’d be king over two kingdom states, it would be easy for him to lead an uprising against Queen Danika and King Norman.”

“Do you think Oberson is really capable of that?”

A direct reference to Oberson’s obvious disdain for physical activity.

People were both predictable and unpredictable all at once. Watching a grown adult behave in a position of power was almost the same as watching a toddler be left in a room with sweets.

“Not exactly, but it is a start. It’s also a coincidence that he’s here in Carthya, don’t you think?” Amarinda rolled her shoulders. “I’m excited to sleep in a real bed again.”

“Ah, I see where you’re coming from, spreading rumors about how much he fears the bloodthirsty Mireldis Thay and then lift her up to become his bride. It would make quite the romantic ballad. A disgusting one at that.”

“Hardly romantic to force a young woman to marry a man the same age as her grandfather.”

“Which makes Oberson’s theoretical plan all the more despicable.”

Amarinda’s skin was crawling. “We’ll put that on the extreme end. I shouldn’t even be judging him.”

“True,” Tobias nodded. “But you also know Bymarian politics better than anyone I’ve ever met, including King Oberson and Lord Feall.”

Warmth spread through her ribs. Spread through the entirety of her body, and burst out through a smile. "You're getting quite good at the game too, you know."

"I do try," Tobias chuckled. His dark hair was flopping across his eyes. "I still think you should speak with Ayvar. I know I will, but it won't be anything about politics. Or at least state politics, more along the lines of, and I can't believe I'm saying this, criminal politics. This is much more Roden's expertise than mine."

"Roden's got a lot on his plate at the moment, you're a good friend to help him out."

"Anything to keep him out of the alehouse. I haven't had to prescribe any tonics for him in almost four weeks!"

"That has to be a lie," teased Amarinda, but deep within her heart of hearts, she was happy to hear the news.

It wasn't her place to instruct a person's life.

But it was her place as a friend to be concerned.

A pair of pink roses bloomed on Tobias's pale face. "No, no, I'm being completely serious. And same with Jaron, as well, he's been doing much better now that he has multiple puzzles to play with. Although I suspect that he may have an allergy pertaining to, ah, Imogen's new feline friend."

"And what can we do about that?"

"Not much, except get rid of the cat," Tobias steepled his fingers, and tapped them against his nose.

The little gesture was all too recognizable. Amarinda pointed to her head, "Have you got a brilliant idea for me, love?"

"I do, actually. Oberson is the cat, and you are Jaron-"

"Hopefully I don't look like Jaron."

"-you're absolutely stunning, and if Jaron were a woman, he'd wish he looked like you, but I have a different point. Oberson is the cat, you are Jaron, who is quite possibly allergic to cats. You're allergic to Oberson.

"Think about it, Ami, we didn't have the Faola to worry about before Oberson arrived. Mireldis Thay was resting in an unmarked grave. Oberson is the one we should be worried about. Nobody ever suspects the older man with a-," Tobias arched backwards, and rounded his hand over his stomach. "I think there's more than what we see. A lot more."

"You're right, you're very right," Amarinda shoved her loose hair pin back into place. "I pride myself on locating similarities but I can't do it right now."

"In your defense, you're a part of the puzzle, not the person putting the puzzle together."

"Thank you, I think?"

As odd as his words were, Tobias's analogy made sense.

If Amarinda was a part of the puzzle, it would be much harder to see the grand picture. Even then, there would still be parts of the puzzle missing, as she doubted the puzzle was put together. The whole ordeal was making her head spin.

Making her head spin with no apparent direction.

Plans were essential. Jaron would argue that point at every turn, despite having plans already twirling around in his head. Things rarely ever worked out in the way people hoped, but plans provided stability.

There was typically an outcome various parties hoped for.

Not anymore. There was no grand ending to plan for.

No end goal.

There was no end goal to even think about.

Was it even there?

Was the end goal not something Amarinda could grasp?

That made her stomach tilt. It was dangerous, keeping harmful secrets. She was beginning to realize that maybe she was being stared in the face by an enemy she’d talked with before.

Perhaps they knew what the end goal was.

Aware of her scowl, Amarinda forced her face to relax. The birds were singing despite the rising heat. Everything was bursting with life, with the promise for a bright, wonderful day.

She clung to that promise.

“Tobias?” Amarinda asked, urging her horse to go just a little bit faster.

He followed suit. “Yes?”

Large stones marked the road, pointing the way to Drylliad for weary travellers. Dozens and dozens of people walked in lines towards the city.

At their head was a large man riding an even larger golden horse. He waved a greeting, and soon turned his attention back to the lines of people.

“I just want you to know that I love you.”

“Have you done something wrong?”

“Why is that the question you ask me?”

“Jaron tells me that he loves me each time he does something he knows I’d get mad about.”

Amarinda’s polite giggle soon turned into a struggle to keep herself from snorting. It made sense, as she’d seen Jaron walk up to Tobias covered in chicken feathers with a declaration of love on his lips. Her battle to contain her ungraceful laugh failed.

“No, no!” Laughed Amarinda, her eyes welling up. She was painfully aware of how her giggles were gaining pitch with each escaped sound. “I just- I just wanted to tell you!”

“I love you too, darling, and I haven’t done anything wrong either,” Tobias’s chuckles were far more contained.

It wasn’t quite fair, Tobias’s perfect laugh.

He was her best friend above everyone else.

Which was why it was so painful to know how close he’d come to harm because of that girl who’d attacked Feall.

So painful to know that no matter how hard Amarinda tried, there would always be something she couldn’t control. Something that would come hurtling toward her, and only damage Tobias in the process.

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

Her skin had been scrubbed of dirt, sweat, and its own top layer. Made her skin smart, of course, but it was better than walking around in a disgusting travel gown with sticky hair.

And it was definitely better than being trapped in a large meeting room, flanked by virtual strangers.

Amarinda tucked her hair behind her ears. Lines and lines and lines of words were beginning to blur into the same excuse.

Tobias sat to her right, holding eerily still. The investigators sent from Bymar to find any living member of House Thay were seated at the same table. Each one of them bore the same black hair and the same royal uniform of blue and white. Not one person said a word as Amarinda read through their report.

“You didn’t find anyone,” Amarinda sat as tall as she could. “In all of your findings, you found no trace of Mireldis Thay or her father.”

“I’m sorry, Ambassador, we searched as well as we could,” said one of the investigators, a tall man with his hair tied back. The pins on his shoulder distinguished him from the others. He was of higher rank.

“I understand, it’s difficult searching for people who’ve grown used to keeping their names hidden. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mireldis wasn’t even here.”

A clatter of opinions burst from the investigators, all of whom were trying to argue that Lady Thay was most definitely in Carthya.

“Did you take a chance to visit the girl who allegedly attacked Feall?” Tobias murmured, he’d reached for Amarinda’s hand beneath the table.

They’d only just gotten back from their travels. Or at least that was the excuse Amarinda had drafted up during her long break before the meeting.

His grip helped her stay firmly planted. Amarinda sighed, “I-, no. I haven’t, I’m afraid of going. . .”

“And seeing the wrong girl there?”

“I’m more afraid of finding the right girl, Tobias. The Thays were good friends to Danika, they were there when I left Bymar for the first and last time.”

“Queen Danika is pushing for their pardon. Or at least that’s what I’ve been able to gather,” Tobias muttered, his eyes glued on Amarinda’s face.

“That’s what’s been said, but there’s no telling how true that is. King Oberson, he, ah, he’s terrified of Mireldis Thay, and it’s very likely that everyone else shares that view. I’ve sent a letter to Queen Danika to prove that she sanctioned this, but haven’t received anything in return.”

The arguing grew louder and louder, much unlike what Amarinda expected from Danika’s representatives. Her aunt ran a strict court, and had no time for gossiping in her presence.

Perhaps the investigators who’d been sent weren’t even members of Danika’s court.

It wouldn’t be shocking if that was true.

In silence, Amarinda and Tobias watched the men and women rise to their feet as they began to yell at each other.

“I know Thay is here! She’s going to slit our throats in our sleep!”

“And how do we know you’re not Mireldis Thay?”

“Because you were with me on that-!”

“You’re fools! All of you!”

Dots were appearing. Dots that needed to be connected. Amarinda shut her eyes for a moment, remembering the days of her childhood when she’d visit Drylliad. When she and Darius were calmly discussing the matters of whether or not fruit teas were legitimate, and he’d begin to fidget.

Just like his brother.

Darius would flick ink all over a piece of parchment, and then begin to connect dots until he’d made a picture.

He could do that no matter how dispersed the dots were.

Saints, Amarinda needed that ability.

She needed to connect these seemingly unrelated dots.

Oberson’s arrival, the rise of the Faola, the rude investigators Danika had sent, the sudden rise of interest in a young woman who’d vanished four years ago.

But how?

“I want to go. I want to go see her right now,” Amarinda decided.

She was choosing to pursue the more likely lead.

Choosing to connect the dots.

Besides, she’d been riding with the investigators all day, she knew what they’d seen.

Amarinda stood tall, Tobias standing ever so slightly behind her. She clasped her hands, “Noble lords, ladies, I appreciate what we’ve done and your efforts. I do believe that our search was thorough despite not finding what we wanted. Please leave your reports here so I can read them. As of now, you are free to return to Bymar.”

“With all due respect, Ambassador-.”

“There will be absolutely no arguing on my decision. My word is final, good sir.”

The silence that followed as she left the room had the power to choke a horse.

Think, Amarinda!     Think!

Dots, dots, dots. Put them into boxes. She needed to put them into boxes, organize them by size, frequency, and their first appearance.

Tobias padded along beside her, his hands clasped behind his back as the pair of them began the long descent to Drylliad's dungeon. No words needed to be said.

Amarinda was facing her fears, and deep down, she knew that she would find at least one piece of information before the afternoon was through.

King Oberson, a lesser king from Bymar. Amarinda had met him before while she was a child. She remembered him as being large, kind, and a little afraid. He brought presents to certain children in the court, but always kept his gift giving a secret. Pleasing others was always his priority.

Now Feall.

Feall was unpredictable, Amarinda had barely known him, as he'd risen to power just as she was fully embracing her role as Carthya's future queen. But she'd written to Danika and Danika's daughter, Eline, all about him.

He was a kind man with a strict outline for order.

He was one of the brave cavalry members who'd come to Carthya's aid during the Avenian war.

His presence with Oberson wasn't unexpected. Feall was a noble, yes, but not a king. He provided safety to those who sought it.

However, Feall and Oberson's involvement with Danika's investigators was enough to raise alarms. Amarinda didn't want to confess out loud how much she'd disliked their company.

She was supposed to be kind.

If it weren't for Tobias's steady hand, Amarinda would've walked into a stone wall. He continued his silence as he guided her down the grand staircase.

Then came the matter of Mireldis Thay.

Mireldis, daughter of Graer Thay, a man who'd earned the title of vagabond with his frequent travels. The Thays had been dear friends of the crown for generations following a marriage of two people from years and years ago. Their loyalties ran deep enough that the Thays frequently provided their children to pose as decoys for the crown's heirs.

Amarinda had known Mireldis.

They'd played together with imported dolls, fabricating elaborate stories that rivaled the dramas of court.

It had taken much on Amarinda's part to finally figure out what happened.

She could still remember the night that she read Eline's letter, explaining that the Thays knew about Avenia's plan to ravage Carthya, but didn't say a single word to Danika.

The Thay's kingdom-state was pillaged while Danika's soldiers were in Carthya.

The entire castle had been gutted, members of the family butchered, save for Graer's wife. She managed to rebuild as much as she could.

Rumors spoke that she'd kept Mireldis alive, but when Danika came to find out the truth for herself, she'd been informed that Mireldis died; murdered by those who hated her family.

Grief didn't pick and choose the people it affected.

Amarinda hadn't seen Mireldis in more than a decade, but her heart still broke.

Her heart broke that night knowing that there was no proof of what had actually taken place that merited the slaughter of a family.

The torches guiding the way down to the dungeon flickered. A shiver ran down her spine, and she gladly took Tobias’s hand when he offered it.

Four guards had been posted at the outmost door. Only one spoke, asking minimal questions before letting both Amarinda and Tobias in.

Sunlight poured into the dungeons in patched gaps. Several of the prisoners inside only moved their heads as Amarinda and Tobias reached the bottom step.

A figure was already standing outside of the last prison cell.

The cell belonging to the supposed Mireldis Thay.

Heart in her throat, Amarinda forced herself to step forward. What would she say if it was Mireldis?

How could she apologize for the atrocities of the past?

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Feall said. “Not that I don’t welcome your company.”

“We’ve just returned from searching for Mireldis Thay,” Amarinda stood tall. “There was no sign of her.”

“I can imagine it was surprising when word got out that Mireldis was here in Drylliad.”

“Is it true?”

Feall stepped aside, “See for yourself.”

Amarinda inhaled, clasping her hands behind her back as she looked over the girl in the cell.

Long red hair, bright green eyes, freckles that rivaled the stars. Her face was perfectly devoid of scars and blemishes. She wore trousers and a long black shirt. There was something fiercely confident in her stance.

This girl knew her value.

“It’s-,” Amarinda began, releasing the breath she’d been holding.

Feall was nodding. “I know.”

Was it wrong how relieved her heart was?

Was it wrong that she was happy for the answer she’d been given?

“Is it what you wanted?” asked Tobias.

Amarinda squeezed his hand. “That’s. . . That’s not Mireldis Thay, love.”

“Somebody recognizes it,” the red haired girl wrinkled her nose. “I keep telling everyone my name is Ayvar, and they don’t believe me.”

“People thrive on gossip, I’m sorry for the mixup.”

“I don’t mind, I’d be a fool to get angry about being mistaken for a princess. . . And I’d be a fool for not being angry about being locked in here.”

“Banditry and attempting murder is-,” Amarinda began, but Feall shook his head, stopping her argument.

“Ayvar knows the man behind the attack.”

“And?”

“And she was innocent,” Feall gestured to Ayvar. “She is the Faola who fought with me against my attacker.”

Tobias nodded in agreement. “He’s telling the truth, there was one who broke away from the group to help him.”

She nodded, “And what do you propose?”

“I haven’t run this by Captain Harlowe yet, but I think it’s unfair to Ayvar to be trapped here despite being innocent of what she was arrested for,” explained Feall as he crossed his arms. “I’d like to promise freedom to Ayvar if she helps us capture the bandit who came after not only me, but your husband, a noble regent, might I add.”

A noble proposition indeed.

And yet, Amarinda was still unsure of how she felt about relying on a criminal for information.

People would do anything to get what they wanted.

#dun dun dun #the intrigue is so spicy #princess amarinda #tobias #the ascendance series #the false prince #fic friday #fic Friday and its actually a friday #also holy cow the ascendance tumblr tag is bouncing today guys #that rocks #happy birthday to my darling ami #id die for her

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

The Dove and Her Hound CH. Two

Title: Off to the Twins

Words: 1,799

Warnings: Some strong language, mention(s) of rape[NO ACTUAL RAPE], some suggestive mature content

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Sandor Masterlist

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

The next morning, you sensed a body near yours and you instinctively curled into it. You felt a deep rumble under your head and let out a noise of complaint. Fingers brushed up and down your arm, lulling you back to sleep.

After you went back under, Arya woke up. She got up quietly and picked up a rock. Walking slowly towards Sandor, she hesitated slightly when she saw you curled up to his side, his arm around you. Breaking out of it, she raised the rock over her head.

 “I’ll give you one try, girl,” Sandor said. “Kill me and you’re free. But if I live, I’ll break both of your hands.”

 Arya went to throw the rock down, but you moved in your sleep, nuzzling your face into Sandor’s neck and she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She threw the rock down in frustration and the noise woke you up.

 “Is everything okay?” You mumbled, sitting up and stretching. Arya glared at Sandor and stalked away.

 “Aye. We should get going. We’re still too close to the Brotherhood for my taste.”

 “We should eat something first. Especially you, if you’re going to be walking all day,” you said.

 “I can walk and eat.” His voice was gruff.

 “Alright. Let’s get going then.”

 Sandor helped you onto the horse, then shoved Arya on next. You rummaged through your pack and brought out a piece of dried meat, some bread, and two apples. You handed the meat and half of the bread to Sandor, and one of the apples and the rest of the bread to Arya.

 “Here you go. Eat. If you need more, just tell me,” you said to Arya. She gave you a small smile and leaned into you as the horse started to move. Your arms wrapped around her and your fingers tangled into the horse’s mane. After a while, Sandor offered the rest of the meat to Arya and she just looked at him in disgust then looked away, not taking the food. You pinched her gently and Sandor shook his head.

 “Sulk all you want. Truth is, you’re lucky. You don’t want to be alone out here. Someone worse than me would find you.”

 “There’s no one worse than you,” Arya spat.

 “You never knew my brother,” Sandor said. “He once killed a man for snoring. There’s plenty worse than me. Like the men who like to beat little girls. Rape them. I saved your sisters from some of them.”

 “You’re lying,” she said after a small pause.

 “He’s not. He’s saved both me and Sansa, many times,” you said quietly. “They would’ve killed us if Sandor hadn’t been there.”

 Arya went quiet after that, stuck in her thoughts. Time flew by and before you knew it, it was almost mid-day. Arya had fallen into a fitful bout of sleep and you had convinced Sandor to take a small break. As gently as he could, he picked Arya up and set her on the ground. After she was settled on the ground he picked you up.

 Your hands were on his arms and his were on your waist. The heat from his hands was seeping through your clothes and your grip tightened around his biceps. You leaned into him and his arms engulfed you. Because of the height difference, you head was directly over his heart. He was still wearing his armor so you couldn’t hear his heartbeat, but that didn’t deter you from trying. You clung to him like your life depended on it.

 “I can’t believe that I’m actually seeing you again,” you whispered.

 “I can’t believe it either. I always expected for me to be dead by now.”

 “I’m glad that didn’t happen. I don’t know what I would do if you died.”

 “You’d still be with the Brotherhood, that’s for sure.” You let out a snort.

 “Stupid bastards.” You looked up at Sandor. “They did one good thing though.”

 “And what is that?”

 Reaching up to cup his face in your hands, you gently pulled him down to your level.

 “They brought you back to me.” He covered your hands with his big ones and put his forehead on yours.

 “Aye, that they did.” The two of you stayed in that position for a few minutes, Sandor’s breath mixing with yours. His thumbs rubbing circles on the back of your hands.

 “Sandor?”

 “Yes?”

 You opened your eyes and looked directly into his.

 “Kiss me?”

 You could feel the tension exit his body. One of his hands drifted from yours, down your arm, to your waist. He squeezed you gently and with his other hand, pulled your face close to his. Your nose bumped his and he finally kissed you. It was sweet and slow; you could feel the love pouring out of Sandor and your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. With a groan, Sandor pulled you closer and the kiss began to get more heated. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and buried the other in your hair. Pulling your hair gently, Sandor broke the kiss and began to kiss his way down your neck.

 “S-Sandor,” you gasped out. He let out another groan that you felt more than heard.

 “If you keep making sounds like that, I won’t be able to hold myself back,” Sandor all but growled into your skin.  

 “Please manage to hold yourself back. I’d rather not see anything else,” Arya said, looking at the two of you in disgust.

 “Then why don’t you fuck off back to sleep.” He released his hand from your hair but kept his arm around your waist. Your face was dark red and you hid yourself from Arya out of embarrassment.

 “Why don’t you stop kissing my sister?” With a final look at the two of you, she walked to the horse and grabbed some water. Sandor shook his head and lifted your chin up. He kissed you again and led you over to the horse.

 “We should get going,” he said.

 “Where are we going?” You asked.

 “I’m bringing you to the Twins.”

 “Not back to King’s Landing?” Arya piped up.

 “Fuck no. Fuck the King. Fuck the Queen. I don’t ever want to go back to that shit city.”

 “But why the Twins?”

 “Because your uncle is marrying one of the Frey girls. If we leave now we might make it in time for the wedding,” Sandor said. “Your mother and brother will be there too.”

 Your chest tightened with hope and happiness at the mention of your family. Sandor helped the two of you onto the horse and began to lead it away. Arya remained silent and you couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face. Sandor noticed and his chest tightened as well, but it was filled with fear instead of hope. Fear that he’d have to leave you when he reunited the two of you with your family. Fear that he might not ever see you again.

 All of that fear was washed away momentarily when your small hand squeezed his shoulder. Looking up at you, he saw you smile at him. He allowed himself to give you a small smile in return. Now was not the time to dwell on these things. He had to focus and bring you back to your family.

 ---

 It was now well past mid-day and you came upon a merchant stuck in the road. One of the wheels on his cart had fallen off and he was desperately trying to put it back on. Sandor stopped the three of you and helped you off the horse.

 “Remember what happens to children that run,” Sandor said to Arya.

 To the both of you he said, “I’m your father and I’ll do all of the talking.”

 “Bit weird for you to be [y/n]’s father,” Arya said. Sandor looked like he wanted to strangle your sister and you put a calming hand on his arm.

 “It’s okay, love. Arya, we’re going to be your parents. Please just stay quiet. We don’t know what will happen.” Arya looked conflicted for a moment and then nodded in consent. You put your arm through Sandor’s and the two of you walked to the merchant.

 “Are you alright?” You asked the man sweetly.

 “Ah, the roads have gone to hell. I broke three spokes this morning,” he said.

 “Do you need a hand?”

 “I need about eight hands,” the man started to say when Sandor lifted the cart by himself. Hurriedly, you and the merchant put the wheel back onto the cart.

 “I have to get all this food to the Twins in time for the wedding.” The wheel slipped back on and Sandor put the cart back on the ground.

 “Many thanks to you and your lovely wife.” After the final word left his mouth, Sandor punched him. You knew it was coming, but still flinched. When he pulled out his dagger, your eyes widened. Arya rushed over and pushed Sandor away.

 “Don’t! Don’t kill him!”

 “Dead rats don’t squeak,” he said.

 “But we still don’t have to kill people without reason.” You put your hand on his. “Please.”

 With one last glance at the man on the ground, he sheathed his dagger. You and Arya both let out a breath of relief. After a moment past, the man began to stir on the ground. Looking at him, Arya stooped to the ground, picked up a stick, and clubbed the man over the head before walking back to the horse.

 “You’re both too kind. One of these days it’ll get you killed,” Sandor said.

 “We are kind, yes. But we have you here to protect us.”

 “Something could happen to me. Then what would you do?”

 “You have me to protect you,” you said with a smile. Sandor cocked an eyebrow at you.

 “Don’t believe me?” Your voice was as sweet as honey and you stepped closer to him. His arms automatically wrapped around your figure, and one of your hands went to caress his face. You pulled him down gently and he felt the cool tip of a blade at his throat. He went to disarm you, but you dropped your blade and caught it in your other hand, bringing it close to his chest.

 “Where did you learn that?” Sandor said, a slight edge to his voice.

 “A lady never tells her secrets,” you replied with a wink. You sheathed your blade and kissed him on the cheek, sauntering towards the horse after. Sandor watched your hips sway and swallowed heavily.

 “Seven Hells, would you please stop staring at my sister like that,” Arya said to Sandor. He flinched slightly, not realizing she was next to him.

 “Shut your mouth and help me with the wagon.”

#sandor clegane x reader #sandor x reader #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #x reader #reader insert #Sandor Clegane #arya stark #stark reader #game of thrones #got #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #got fanfiction #got fanfic #sandor clegane fanfiction #sandor clegane fanfic

[rattyoakenbitch]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐰𝐧 ➳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯: . . 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩

— summary: after getting out of the storm, it just seems like the company keeps getting themselves into more and more trouble. they ultimately end up at the bottom of the mountain, all the way down in goblin town. they fight for their freedom, all the while aramina and her stubborn dwarvish leader, thorin, sort out their complicated relationship.

— warnings: fic will include smut, language, angst, ptsd, depictions of gore.

— pairings: thorin oakenshield x female oc (oc info here) masterlist

Aramina fell in and out of consciousness after the hard fall despite Thorin’s efforts to keep her shielded from the rough landing. Though she was barely able to stand, she was pulled on her feet, getting roughly dragged along by the Goblins. Thorin noticed her head fall back and limbs go limp several times, but the Goblins disregarded this and tugged her with them, some even slapping her awake, laughing while doing so. Thorin grunted at their harsh treatment. He wished he could move to the front to support Aramina in her weak state, but he too, just like the rest of The Company, was being held back and bound. 

The Company finally arrived before the Goblin king, who was sitting on his tiny throne that was crushed beneath his weight. After the Great Goblin finished his little song and received The Company’s opinions, he spoke, “Who are you?” The Goblin king started. “Spies? Thieves? Assassins?!” 

“Dwarves, your malevolence,” one Goblin spoke up as the Goblin king searched among The Company, Aramina catching his eye. As soon as the king gestured to her, the Goblins pulled her to the front. 

“And a Fawn! What a surprise,” the king chortled. “Now, wouldn’t she make a good little pet?” At that, three Goblins brought Aramina down on her knees, as another tied a collar-like chain around her neck, pulling her to the Goblin king’s side while she writhed around. She tried to shove the Goblins off her but all efforts were in vain. “See? Good pet!” the king mocked, tugging at Aramina’s ‘leash’. She gasped for air as the chain around her neck grew tighter with each pull, all while The Company watched in distress but could do nothing. Until.. 

“Do not touch her!” Thorin’s deep baritone voice echoed as he came forward into the Goblin king’s sight. Aramina looked up at Thorin, her gaze meeting his. A concerned expression was etched onto his face, but Aramina gave him a small reassuring smile. 

“Well, well, well! Look who it is! Thorin! Son of Thrain, Son of Thror,” The Goblin king announced, stooping down. “King Under the Mountain!” Then the Goblin king stood to his full height, looking down at Thorin with a smug smile playing on his lips. “Oh, wait! But I’m forgetting! You don’t have a mountain. And you’re not a king..” The Company cringed upon hearing the words spill from the so-called king’s mouth. “Which makes you.. nobody, really.”

“He’s more of a king than you ever will be,” Aramina snarled, resulting in getting her collar pulled to a tighter setting. She held her chest, coughing as she felt the air get knocked out of her lungs. Thorin looked at Aramina, then back at the Great Goblin.

“Let her go, or by my oath, I will kill you all,” Thorin said through gritted teeth. The king simply laughed and leaned back into his throne, his grip still on Aramina’s leash, twiddling with it teasingly. 

“I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head,” The king started. “Just a head! Nothing attached.” He smiled maliciously. “Perhaps you know of whom I speak. A pale Orc, astride a white Warg.”

Thorin looked up at the Goblin king intently, his chest rising and falling fast. “Azog the Defiler was destroyed.. He was slain in battle long ago!” His voice became shakier with each word. Could the Goblin king be telling the truth? The Great Goblin leaned in, his repulsive breath fanning against The Company’s face.

“So you think his defiling days are over, do you?” He turned to one of his minions, and with a chuckle, told it, “Send word to the pale Orc. Tell him; I have found his prize.” 

“Bones will be shattered! Necks will be wrung! You’ll be beaten and battered! From racks you’ll be hung..” The Great Goblin’s voice rang out, echoing against the stone walls. Aramina whimpered at both the irritating song and lack of breath. She felt her head become light, and neck grow numb. Her vision darkened and the surrounding noises became more and more faint. She was going to die. 

“Aramina!”

“Lassie, can you hear us?!”  

“Aramina, no!” Thorin’s voice shook her awake. She looked up at him with half-lidded eyes as he writhed around, trying to escape from the Goblin’s grasps and get to Aramina. The Goblin king looked between the two, laughing mockingly and yanked on the chains again, straining the collar around Aramina’s neck. 

“Aw, she’s special to you, is she?” The Goblin guffawed, watching Thorin’s expression change into a painful one as Aramina struggled to breath, her body growing weaker by the second. “It matters not. She will die like the rest of you.” His laughing was cut short when a Goblin pulled out Orcrist, promptly throwing it on the ground and scattering away from it. “I know that sword! It is the Goblin Cleaver! The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks!” The Goblin creatures surrounded The Company, jumping and pushing them to the ground. “Slash them! Beat them!” Thorin was especially whipped, and tackled with a dagger getting pointed to his neck. “Cut off his head!” 

A blast of light, followed by a gust of wind knocked the Goblins off, stunning them briefly. In the center of the clearing smoke, there Gandalf stood. “Take up arms. Fight!” When the Dwarves were out of their bonds and got ahold of their weapons, it was over for the Goblins. Left and right, they were slain mercilessly. As soon as Thorin got on his feet, he immediately made his way to Aramina. Thorin’s breath got caught in his throat as he feared the worst had happened. He kneeled by Aramina’s side, picking her up in his broad arms. 

“Aramina!” The chains around her neck were shattered in the explosion, but she didn’t stir. She laid almost lifeless in his hold, if it wasn’t for the slow rise and fall of her chest. “Aramina, wake up!” Despite the fight raging around him, Thorin didn’t leave Aramina until she showed any sign of consciousness. When she did, Thorin let out a sigh of relief. Her eyes fluttered open, instantly falling on Thorin. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Excuse me,” she coughed, still regaining her strength. “I almost died! But hey, it’s good to know you have feelings.”

Thorin couldn’t help but crack a smile. Aramina was back. “Can you walk?” Aramina’s eyes left Thorin’s face, drifting away to the battle behind him.

“Guess I don’t have a choice.” At that, Thorin picked her up as she clung to him weakly. 

“Stay close.”

“I can handle myself, Thorin. I’m not a baby,” Aramina claimed, despite her staggering and clumsiness. Oh yes, Aramina was back and still as snarky as ever. Thorin rolled his eyes at her.

“Be quiet! You may act like an ass later but first, let’s work on getting out of here.” 

The duo fought side by side, protecting and backing up one another despite having a nasty argument the same day. 

“And to think you wanted me gone not long ago,” Aramina said with a grunt while beheading several Goblins all in one swing.

“If you’ve forgotten,” Thorin started, still effortlessly fighting off the crowd of Goblins. “You were threatening to kill me, so who do you think is in the wrong?”

“I like to think I had a good reason to after your unfair treatment with the Hobbit--!” Aramina spun around to see Thorin on the ground, two small Goblins tackling him. She kicked the Goblins off into the depths below them and helped Thorin up. “Don’t worry; you come from a strong line of lunatics, your majesty. You’ll be fine.” Thorin grumbled at her remark, but brushed her off as they ran side by side, killing any and every Goblin in their path. Aramina raised her dagger at one particular Goblin, until said Goblin was pushed off into the cave below them by Thorin. “Hey, that was my kill, you numbskull!”

“Hm, such poison from a pretty mouth,” Thorin mused, causing Aramina to furrow her brows in annoyance, despite the blush forming on her face. Thorin noticed the blush on her pale skin, causing a small, smug smile to play on his lips despite the situation and clashing around them.

“Oh, don’t let this fuel your ego,” Aramina huffed, lunging forward to kill off the Goblins and clear The Company’s path. “My face is only red because you’re making me mad!”

“It’s not good to lie to yourself,” Thorin called from behind. Aramina scoffed.

“Keep up, old man!” 

Thorin growled, running after Aramina, determined to ‘win’ the race and establish his dominance instead of being treated like a kid playing a game. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t entertained and amused by Aramina’s childlike yet headstrong attitude. “I do not deem that fair! If I knew you were fully capable of running, I wouldn’t have helped you up!” The Company kept their pace as they ran through the Goblin tunnels, trusting that Gandalf knew the way out. The Company, especially Kili & Fili noticed the change of atmosphere between Aramina and Thorin considering they fought side by side, literally flirting while doing so. They were sure going to tease him for it afterwards. 

Just when they thought they had got away, the Great Goblin king stopped them in their tracks, blocking their escape. 

“You thought you could escape me?” He pushed Gandalf back with his scepter, “What’re you going to do now, wizard?!” Without giving Gandalf the chance to react, Aramina lunged forward and in one swift motion, kicked the Goblin king back and sliced his sagging throat open. The Goblin king paused, “That’ll do it.” His body collapsed onto the bridge, his weight bringing it down. The Company hung on tight as they rode the broken platform down the cave at an immense speed, hitting the bottom of the cave with a hard impact, yet miraculously surviving without any broken bones. 

“Well, that could have been worse!” Bofur exclaimed, shortly before the Goblin king’s body piled on top of them. “Oh, you’ve got to be joking me!” The weight of the Goblin king’s dead body and debris kept them down briefly, until the sight of a Goblin army charging at them shook them awake. “Gandalf!” The Company fought their way out of the rubble, turning to Gandalf. “There’s too many of them! We can’t possibly fight them all off!”

“Only one thing will save us.. Daylight!” The Company hurried out of the cave, but Thorin stayed behind to look for Aramina under the mess. He eventually found her small figure and pulled her out.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Thorin said, referring to the Goblin king. Aramina just scoffed in response.

“I was fully capable of kicking his ass. You needn’t worry about me.” 

“Aramina, don’t be a fool. You’re bleeding!” Aramina got to her feet and looked down, where the bloody outline of a shallow gash ran along her ribcage to her abdomen. 

“I’m fin--”

“Would you listen to me for a second?!”

“It’s been a second!”

They paused their petty argument, looking up at the Goblins getting nearer and nearer.

“Do you trust me?”

Aramina gulped. “Yes.” Thorin swept Aramina off her feet, securing her tightly in his arms as he carried her out the Goblin tunnels, running after The Company. Aramina couldn’t help but smile. “This is new.” Thorin rolled his eyes at her.

“Don’t get used to this, Aramina. We still have plenty to sort out.”

“Oh, be quiet. You don’t need to act so brash all the time,” Aramina huffed. “I try to lighten the mood and you still manage to hold a grudge against me!”

“You’re hurt, Aramina! I do not understand what’s so relieving about that!”

“Well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” The two kept quiet after that as they approached The Company, who noticed Aramina in Thorin’s arms. They wanted to smile and make a joke about it, until they realized Aramina was hurt. Thorin set her down on a rock and called Oin over. “Hold still, this may hurt,” he warned. Aramina braced herself, but the wound didn’t hurt as badly as she thought it would. Thorin came forward to talk to Aramina as soon as Oin was finished cleaning and patching her wound up.

“I would take back what I said in the cave,” Thorin apologized sincerely, a guilty expression crossing his face. “I realize I had gone too far with my words. Forgive me, Aramin--” Aramina threw her small arms around Thorin’s slightly larger figure, engulfing him in a tight hug. She pulled away shortly after to get a good look at Thorin, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I would say the same.. T-Thank you for saving my life.. Even after I threatened to take yours,” she stammered. “Well, I mean, I never would have killed you over a petty argument in the first place--!” Thorin cut her off with a laugh at her awkwardness. Aramina pursed her lips, huffing. “Well, I’m glad I was able to squeeze a laugh out of you. You should do it more often-- I mean you should laugh more often! You know you’ll get forehead creases if you’re always brooding!”

- - - ♡ taglist ♡ - - - @tschrist1​

#thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #thorin the dwarf #thorin thursday #the hobbit #thorin fluff #thorin angst #the hobbit angst #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fandom #thorin series #the hobbit fluff #the hobbit series #the fawn series #the hobbit x oc #thorin's company #the company x oc #rattyoakenbitch

[evangeline-of-montfort]

ash garden (ii)

chapter 1 read it here on ao3

The words leave me in a jumble, trying to push from my mouth before the enemy arrives. Trying to call for aid before I am utterly trapped. “Elane, there’s an active raid. I’m in trouble: Sector E-1. Please– ”

The ground itself shakes with the force of drumming hooves as figures burst from the treeline, surrounding me in seconds. I don’t get much further before a gust of wind rips the wireless broadcaster from my fingers and sends it flying over the ledge behind me. Windweaver. 

Now I’m well and truly on my own. I pray that the raiders hadn’t interfered with the second broadcaster, that Elane heard me and sent aid. 

If not, I could die here. 

I count a dozen other raiders, each sitting astride a wall of shaggy fur and horns.  Bison. From experience, I know that they can sustain over a dozen bullets before going down. The animals’ eyes are flat and glassy, a sure sign they’re under the control of a Silver animos. 

Fuck. 

“You weren’t broadcasting for aid, I hope?” the lead raider asks coolly. Her nose and mouth are covered with a black bandana; above it, her eyes are hard and unforgiving. I reach out with my ability, scanning her up and down. She carries two pistols with eight rounds each, bright copper and heavy tungsten; her belt buckle is silver. 

I weigh my options, wondering how many enemies I could cut down before the bison trample me into the earth. The odds are not good, so I start talking. “No help is coming for me, I’m afraid. I seem to have been cut off from my unit.” 

The raider shrugs. “I apologize—we may have interfered slightly with your broadcasting capabilities. It wouldn’t have been ideal for newblood freaks to rush us from all sides as soon as we got close to you.”

As soon as we got close to you. Any lingering hope I had of this being a random attack vanishes. They targeted me specifically, but why? 

I choose my next words carefully. The voice I use belongs to a lost princess from a lost court, but it serves me well here. “Why waste thirteen seasoned raiders on one patrol officer? You must think quite highly of me. Either that, or you aren’t sure of your own abilities in the slightest.”

As I talk, I study the raiders, trying to pick out the details that might save my life. Why are they here? Who are they? 

Each of them wears a black bandana covering their noses and mouths. Their eyes are all hard and cold, veined with gray. Their clothes seem relatively new, a far cry from the mismatched rags that raiders usually wear. I spot an emblem of some sort—a shield emblazoned with a silver stripe—and it looks disgustingly familiar. 

My stomach drops as I realize what it is. 

The Nortan Silver Secession is here.

One of the raiders slides off her mount, moving with a liquid, easy grace.  Silk. “Why waste thirteen raiders on one person? Well, that would be very simple,” she says, talking like she would to a child. “We do indeed think a great deal of you, Your Majesty.” 

She stops before me and sinks to one knee. It feels like a mockery, and it may very well be. “Lady Evangeline Samos. Daughter of Royal House Samos and House Viper. Betrothed of not one but two Calore kings. Former Queen of the Rift.”

My legs go weak at her words. They call me back to an old life, titles won in a country that no longer exists. What game are the Secessionists playing now? “I am no longer any of those things,” I manage. “What do you want with me?” 

The silk tuts as she rises and approaches me, swaying almost hypnotically in my vision. Something in her face reminds me of Sonya and her family. They’re probably related, after all. “I am no longer any of those things,” she mocks. “I see our poor queen has been brainwashed by the Montfort bastards. I hear you have renounced all titles and family ties, my dear. That you walk as equals with Red rats in the streets. That you take a girl to your bed each night—”

“Enough!” I snap, sounding braver than I feel. Her words struck deep, an unwelcome reminder that I am the antithesis of all I was born to be. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want?” 

She is unperturbed. “Why, we want to restore you to your throne, Your Majesty. To crown you queen of all of Norta. Second to no other. And, if you so wish—” She leers, and I can see the disdain in her eyes—“the Lady Haven shall be named your princess consort.”

Her words release an old yearning inside me, a longing for power and for freedom. It tears through my insides before I can control it, and the greed has to show on my face.

“That’s it, little magnetron,” the silk coos. “You need not resist. Blood need not be shed. And before the week is out, you will have a throne and a crown.”

She is offering me what I was raised to want. I was  born to be the queen of Norta. Such a deep-seated desire does not simply disappear. I feel my old ambitions surge to life, a roaring tide inside my head. 

But I know now that what the silk offers is not true. To wear a crown is to lose your freedom of choice. Power given can be just as easily taken away.

And here in Montfort, with its too-close sky and sheer granite cliffs, roaring whitewater falls and dark green pines, I have everything I want. Ptolemus and Wren are here. I am free to love Elane, to marry her, and to grow old and die with her. I do not need a throne. 

What I need is to get out of here alive. I need to stall for more time and hope that backup is on its way.

“A crown and a country,” I say slowly. Every word is an extra second I’m alive. My mind searches frantically for an escape route and comes up empty. Please, Elane. I need you. “Now, that’s a hard offer to beat, Lady…” 

“Tana Iral, Your Majesty.” So she is related to Sonya, maybe a cousin or aunt. Her eyes gleam with barely-suppressed excitement, watching me as a cat watches its prey. As my mother’s wolves used to watch me. 

I briefly wonder what will become of me if they have their way. They could make me their puppet, controlled in every action by a Merandus whisper. The thought terrifies me like no other. 

Keep talking. It’s all I can do. 

“But… enlighten me,” I continue, forcing the fear away. “There is already a stable government in place in Norta. Democracy. Equality of blood. You speak of a waiting crown, but I see no throne.”

Tana laughs, showing even white teeth. “ Yet, Your Majesty. A government led by Reds and their allies is no government at all. They cannot hope to stand against us for long.”

My stomach twists even tighter. “You propose civil war.”

“A restoration of the throne to its rightful owner.” 

“Countless lives will be lost,” I say slowly. “Silver lives. Valuable blood.” I try to fall into my expected role: a blood supremacist, a Silver lady. It isn’t difficult—after all, it’s who I used to be. 

Another one of the raiders shifts impatiently. “Those Silvers forfeited their lives when they betrayed their people. We have no qualms about clearing them out of the way. Will you, Your Majesty?” His words carry a thinly veiled threat. 

They’re getting tired of stalling. My time is almost up.

I don’t know what I would’ve done if left to my own devices, but suddenly, several things happen all at once. 

Tires screech on asphalt as a cycle roars down the Hawkway. Someone dismounts and runs towards me, and a glowing blue shield erupts across my vision. My heart jumps in my chest. Davidson. Elane came through.

I scan the Hawkway for more reinforcements, but there are none. The premier’s the only person I’ve got, but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have here except Tolly.  

The raiders overcome their surprise and attack. I feel exactly six guns fire at once, and without blinking, I stop the bullets in midair and throw them back. Two of them cut through flesh, and the rest go sailing into the woods, missing the raiders entirely. I grit my teeth—I’m out of practice. 

A gale-force wind picks up. I stagger and lose my balance, and it throws me to the ground. My ribs slam into the dirt, knocking the wind from my chest. 

The air itself turns into a vacuum, sucking the breath from my lungs as I scrabble uselessly for purchase. I try to shout as I’m flung towards the edge of the cliff, but my own breath chokes me, forcing the sound back down my throat. Stars swim across my vision, bright spots of color that almost hurt my eyes. 

The windstorm is cut off as suddenly as it began. The sounds and sensations of battle abruptly disappear as a dome materializes around me and the premier, blue as a robin’s egg and nearly an inch thick on all sides. 

Still on the ground, I cough and gasp for air, stunned by both the impact and the sudden silence. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and every breath is unnaturally loud.

“Can you stand?” Davidson bends over me, his eyes alight with concern.

I grasp his offered hand and gingerly pull myself up. Nothing seems broken—I can already feel the bruises spreading, but I’ve definitely had a lot worse. “Thanks for the save. You’ve clearly been practicing.” 

He smiles at that. “Even old dogs can learn new tricks.” 

I suddenly lose my balance again, catching myself on his arm. At first, I think my brain hasn’t reoriented itself properly, but then I realize it isn’t me. 

The ground is trembling again. 

I look up in time to see the bison charging us, a moving wall of pure muscle. A mountain of shaggy fur slams into the shield, inches from my face, with enough force to knock down a small house. The dome shakes under the impact. Despite myself, I flinch back, nearly colliding with Davidson. 

An awful crunch filters through the muffling effects of the shield. One of the animals collapses sideways, its neck bent at the wrong angle. The others begin to sway uncertainly, stamping at the ground, but their eyes go flat as the animos reasserts control. They shake their heads, stunned, and charge us again. 

The dome flickers, growing weaker with each impact, each passing second. It’s incredibly disorienting, like the entire world is underwater, distorted. Everything is blurry except for Davidson at my side. The ground shakes, my vision flashes blue, and the drumming of hooves rumbles in my ears like thunder. I want to curl into a ball on the ground and put my head between my knees until it’s over. 

Instead, I put a hand on Davidson’s shoulder. It trembles with strain, nearly in time with the flickering shield. “Don’t give out on me,” I say, trying to bolster us both. “I’d like to get out of this alive.” 

His eyes meet mine for the briefest second, the only acknowledgement he can manage. I can’t begin to fathom the amount of willpower it takes to maintain that dome. He doesn’t look it, but the premier might be the strongest Ardent I’ve ever met—and I’ve fought the lightning girl. 

My legs brace automatically as another charge begins. I can feel the vibrations in the iron soles of my boots, like standing on top of a rattling transport. Next to me, Davidson grits his teeth. His stare is so intense I can feel it, even though it’s not leveled at me. 

“How much longer can you last?” I ask, and my voice echoes around the tiny space.

He only shakes his head, the smallest of movements. We don’t have long at all.

The Nortans prowl around the edges of our bubble. They don’t waste energy attacking—they don’t have to. All they have to do is wait for Davidson to give out, and they’ll have us outnumbered eleven to two.

Who has the advantage? Lord Arven’s voice echoes bitterly through my brain. That question has an easy answer. 

The hard part is neutralizing the advantage. 

“We have to kill the animos,” I realize suddenly. 

Briefly, I wonder if their animos is family. One of my mother’s Viper cousins, here to drag me back to Norta at long last. I can only think of a few nobles who could control half a herd of bison for this long.  “Which one of them do you think–”

Even with the bandana, even through the uncertain light cast by the dome, her face is familiar. We have the same eyes, after all—Viper eyes—but hers are brown to my gray.  There’s no mistaking it.  

“Atara,” I whisper. 

In another life, we were friends and allies—cousins—at court. She helped organize my birthday gala when we were fifteen. I cheered her Queenstrial, even though I knew she didn’t stand a chance. She was my mother’s favorite niece. 

Davidson seems to realize. “I’m… sorry,” he says. “If—if there were another way…” 

The strain in his voice surprises me—the premier isn’t one to display exhaustion. We’re out of time. This isn’t the place for doubt, or morals.

“There isn’t,” I say flatly. “She’s chosen her side. I’ve chosen mine. Drop the shield on ten.” 

The premier nods, unable to manage words. A sheen of sweat coats his brow. I slide a steel ring off my right hand, forming it into a bullet with a burst of willpower. 

The blue shield disappears. Sound and color rush back to the world, but I barely notice. My vision tunnels until all I see is Atara’s black-clad figure. I take a deep breath and let the projectile fly, and like an extension of my own arm, I feel its trajectory across the clearing. I feel the miniature crosswinds as it slices through the air. 

I feel it puncture fabric, flesh, and bone, in that order.

Atara crumples to the ground.

I’m sorry. 

#red queen #red queen fandom #evangeline samos #dane davidson #red queen fanfiction #rq fandom #evangeline of montfort #ash garden

[saelwen]

The Last Dragon

Daenys Targaryen x Thranduil

Crossover: Game of Thrones and LOTR/Hobbit

Chapter13

Masterlist

Summary:After Daenerys death, her daughter Daenys, flew away with Drogon. Feeling lost with out her mother beside her, but what will happen when Daenys find a portal that will lead her to a certain world, where dwell elves, dwarves, humans and other races.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 2k

A small smile forms on my lips as I see the baby dragons interact with Drogon, letting little roars to imitate him and trying to climb to his head and back.

It’s have been two days since my dragons have been born and I never been so happy in my life. They are the cutest thing, following me around and sleeping in my bed at night, curled into my side. Yesterday, I’ve been almost all day trying to think of names and today finally I come with some for them.

I stood from the grass, where I was sitting, walking to where Drogon and the baby dragons were.  

As the little dragons saw me, they start jumping and roaring happily to me. A giggle falls from my lips “Hello my children.” I say softly, bending down on my knees so they could jump to my lap.  

I pick an orange dragon and pet his head, making purr and push his head into my warm hand. His scales were dark orange, with some faded black stripes along his body.

Looking down to him, I smile “You will be Arcturion, the blaze star.” as I say his name, Arcturion lets out pleased roar, flapping his small wings.  

Putting him down, I pick the orange-yellow like. His scales aren’t as orange as his brother, they were more like gold, that reminds me of Viserion, but something grabbed my attention.

From his head to the tip of his tail, there was a green stripe. It was almost transparent and if he was far away, you could almost not see it. Rubbing his back softly, I kiss his little snout “And you will be Viseral! In honor of your uncles...Viserion and Rhaegal.” I smile to him sadly, putting on my shoulder.

Then I look to the little black dragon before me, his scales were black as the night, making him look like shadow. His eyes were vibrant violet like mine...and like my mother. Picking him up, I rub under his chin “You will be strong and powerful like my mother... Daenerion!” a small tear falls down on my cheek.  

Daenerion lick my tear and rub his warm snout into my neck, making a strange purring that made my all body relax. Arcturion and Viseral cuddle into my chest and also begin purring, Drogon put his huge head behind my back and curl his giant body around us “I love you all...my family.” I spoke softly, closing my eyes and letting my back relax on Drogon neck. She would be proud... 

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~

I was in the middle of teaching Daenerion to feed himself when a knock sounded on my chamber's door, putting the piece of meat down, I look back to the door “Yes?” I say a while petting Arcturion.

When the door open, I saw Elrond peeking “Can we come in, Daenys?” I smile and nod. He walk inside with Gandalf, Glorfindel and ….Thranduil, close behind him. I took a deep breath and gave a warm smile to Gandalf and Glorfindel, ignoring the Elven King “What brings my lords here, if may i ask?” I ask softly.

Gandalf took a step forward and sat down beside me “We came to see if everything was alright...and we have some questions to ask you.” I nod and put Arcturion on the table, beside his brothers.

I look the man in front of me “Well...what do you wish to know?” Gandalf let out of a small cough “We wish to know how did you know that you wouldn’t burn in the fire?” he asks a while looking to me with a serious face. I move my gaze from him and look to my children, playing with each other “The House Targaryen is known for having dragon blood. Making us one of them.” I move my hand and pet Daenerion “And fire can’t kill a dragon...” they all nod, looking to me in awe.

Glorfindel walk to me “May I touch them?” he asks, staring to the dragons with excitement. I nod “Of course, Mellon nin!” I say a while picking Viseral and putting him on Glorfindel shoulder.  

A huge smile appears on his face as he pet Viseral head, rubbing under his chin and on his belly “He so beautiful!...Did you already gave them names?” he asks a while adjusting Arcturion, who had flied to his head and started playing with his golden hair.

A giggle escape from as I pick Daenerion and put him on my lap “Yes...The one on your shoulder his Viseral, named after the two other dragons of my mother. The other on your hair is Arcturion, the blaze start.” I look down and smile to the little black dragon, who was sleeping on my lap “And this is Daenerion...in honor of my mother, Daenerys Stormborn.”  

Elrond smiles “They have beautiful names, Daenys...May I ask, when they are bigger...they wouldn’t hurt my people or other innocent being, are they?" He asks with a hit of fear. I shake my head and look to his grey eyes “They won’t! Drogon will teach them how to hunt and won’t let them do nothing bad...i promise!” he nods and let out a relief sigh.

After a while of talking and Glorfindel playing with the dragons like a child, Gandalf stood up “Well, it’s late. We should go and let Lady Daenys rest...and also before Lord Glorfindel become a dragon.” I let out a chuckle and nod in thanks. They all bend their goodbyes and left the room... except one.  

Standing In the middle of the room was Thranduil, looking at me with a sorrow expression. Ahh...What does he want?!  

Standing up, I walk to the wine table, filling a cup “Shouldn’t you also go to your chambers?” I say with a cold voice. In the corner of my eye, I notice his body go tense “Why did you leave Mirkwood?” his voice sends a shiver run down my spine. How I miss the sound of his voice...

I turn back and look to his ice blue eyes “Because I didn’t felt welcome there.” as I say that, a frown fell on his face “Not welcome?! I open my kingdom to you!” his voice came out like a growl, that made my dragons hiss to him and Daenerion flew to my shoulder, glaring to Thranduil. I took a deep breath and rub under Daenerion chin “Mind your tone, King Thranduil!...Your people gave me side looks, whispering behind my back...also I didn’t want to bother you when you have to take care of the maiden that you are courting!” the last words came out full of venom.

Thranduil looks to me in confuse, he took a step forward but stops as Daenerion let out a loud roar to him, “What are talking about? I’m not courting no one and you FUCKING know that I love you!!” he says with a stern voice. A booming laugh left from me, making him look to with a frown on his angelic face. I clean a tear that have fallen from eyes and look to him “Love me?? Now you can love a mere mortal?!...You are a strange elf, King Thranduil. You say that you love me but yet you kiss another woman with such passion.” his eyes wide, the color of his face pales “How?!...” he whispers, almost to himself.

I put my cup down on the table and look to my window, watching the moon rise high in dark sky “I saw you kissing a beautiful elleth on the same day that you kiss me...” he stays silent, lost in guilt and shame. I sigh and look to him with a tired face “We weren’t made for each other, Thranduil...It’s better if we leave it here... move on with our life. You have a kingdom to rule and I have dragons to take care.”  I notice his hand shake and his eyes shine with tears that were threating to fall “Daenys...Please-” “Please get out, Thranduil.” he stays there for a minute, looking at me with a pleading eyes.  

Then he nods and turn around to leave, letting a tear fall down on his soft cheek. I close my eyes as I heard the door close with a loud bang, I sit down on the sofa and let out a loud sob. It’s was for the better...

Daenerion push his warm snout into my face and starts purring, in the distant I heard Drogon roar, feeling the pain in my heart.  

I lie down on the sofa and cry myself to sleep, surrounded by my children. Why love hurt so much?!

(Thranduil P.O.V)

I close the door of my chamber with all my strength. Standing in the middle of the room, I feel my tears running down my face none stop. Why my heart hurt so much?!  

I pick a vase, that was beside me, and throw to the wall in front of me, trying to let out my rage and pain. Suddenly I hear a knock on my door and the voice of Elrond outside “Thranduil? Is everything okay?!” I let out a sigh and tell him to come in, “Mellon nin...what did you do this time?” he says softly, looking to the pieces of vase on the floor.

A sigh fell from my lips, I put my hands on my hair “I’ve fuck up everything, Elrond...she saw me with another woman...” he looks to me and sighs, putting his hand on my shoulder “Yes...i agreed that you fuck up...if you love her, give her time...some space. Maybe she will forgive you.” I only nod, knowing that he’s right. Taking a deep breath, cleaning my tears, I look to the moon outside the window, that reminds me of Daenys beautiful silver hair. I will conquer her heart again!...She will be mine and I will be hers!

Hey Guys!!! New chapter here. I want to thank the people who have help me with the dragon's names!! Hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what do you think!

XOXO

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#thranduil x reader #thranduil #x reader #fantasy #fanfic #fanficion #Fanfic Request #lotr fanfic #hobbit fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #lord of the rings #the hobbit #game of thrones #house targaryen #thranduil imagines #middle earth #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #crossover #jrr tolkien #tolkien #angst #My writing #reblog #gandalf #drogon #daenys targaryen #masterlist #dragon eggs #daenerys targeryan

[merakiaes]

Together, Always - Jorah Mormont

Pairing: Jorah Mormont x Targaryen!reader, Daenerys Targaryen x sister!reader, Jorah Mormont x Daenerys Targaryen (platonic)

Requested: Yes

Prompts: None

Warnings/notes: Mentions of death and violence, angst-ish. Jorah does not have feelings for Dany in this, he’s more like a father-figure to her. 

Wordcount: 2760

Description: Finding Jorah and Dany during the battle, some  Jorah fluff for Anon! 

The day when Dany and Jorah would arrive at Winterfell was finally here. 

Being Dany’s older sister, you’d expect that you would have gone beyond the Wall with them, but while also being the lover of Jorah Mormont, he had convinced your sister to not let you go. 

Despite the fact that you were five years older, the twin of the late Viserys Targaryen. 

But you had expected as much. Your sweet bear was always trying to keep you out of danger’s way, and while you often appreciated it with every bone in your body that he would go out of his way to make sure your sister and you were safe, it was beginning to get on your final nerve. 

Luckily, or not so luckily, this was one of few times he would not be able to get his way. During the upcoming Battle of Winterfell, they would need every bit of help they could get.

As you were the oldest out of your sister and yourself, you rightfully had the first claim to the Iron Throne. But you were in no way interested in being any kind of ruler, leaving that rubbish completely to your sister who only seemed to grow more infatuated with the metal chair for every passing day.

You’d much rather live in a calm home with your Jorah, having a normal life with your children running around and being there to take care of you once growing old, than be involved with the game that was that damned chair in King’s Landing. 

But where Daenerys went, you went. Despite wishing for things to be different, you would never abandon your own blood. 

When you had woken up that morning, you had hurried to the courtyard to receive your sister and lover at the gates, standing beside Sansa who you had, despite your differences, become quite close with during the weeks of your stay. 

However, as the first soldiers of your army spilled in, some of Jon’s men had come up to you, needing help with the trench. So, although begrudgingly, you had left your position at Sansa’s side and trudged off to see to your duties. 

“I need some help over here!” You yelled out as you attempted to lift the spiked piece of wood into the trench, this particular piece being a bit to heavy for you, however. 

Two men ran over almost instantly to take the pole from you, proceeding to drag it over to the trench and dig it into the mud. 

"No, no, no.” You shook your head. “It’s too far to the left, it won’t light.”

The men proceeded to move it further to the right, and you heaved out a sigh. “Now it’s too far to the right.” You shook your head as you watched them try to move it again, going over to slap their hands away. “I’ll do it myself, go back to yours.” You muttered. 

The men each gave you an irritating glare, moving away to leave you to your pole again. 

“Why is no one listening to me today?” You muttered to yourself as you put the pole on your shoulder and tried to move it back to the left, feet slipping in the wet mud every once in a while. 

“I overheard some of them calling you bossy.” A voice suddenly called from behind you, causing you to drop your pole and throw out your arms in exasperation. 

“I’m not bossy! I’m aggressively helpful!” You turned around, spotting your sister and Jorah approaching you. 

The grizzled man smiled as he watched the angry frown resting on your face, the look reminding him of an angry baby dragon. 

“The northerners don’t seem to look at it that way.” Dany chuckled. “I don’t think they’re very used to a woman being in command.”

“Well.” You began, cutting yourself off for a second to curse as you stepped into the mud the wrong way. “They better get used to it, because I’m not going easy on them just because they’re not.” 

Dany laughed, finally reaching her sister. “I missed you.” She opened her arms. 

“I missed you, as well, little sister.” You smiled, following her example and embracing her, squeezing her long and hard before pulling away with a smile to look at Jorah. 

“I missed you even more, my love.” Your smile widened as you threw your arms around the taller man’s shoulders, burying your face into the skin of his neck. 

“And I you, my princess.” You smiled at the nickname, bringing your head up from his neck and raising your hands to grab a hold of his stubbly cheeks to pull him in for a sweet kiss. 

The two of you smiled against each others’ lips as Jorah’s hands came to rest on your waist, grabbing gently to lift you slightly higher all while you rubbed his cheeks slowly. 

Daenerys smiled at the sight, a teasing glint twinkling in her eye. “I don’t know if I should be offended that I got the less loving welcome out of the two of us, or if I should be happy for the both of you.”

You snickered into the kiss, holding on for just a second longer before pulling away. 

Jorah let you down on your feet, instead pulling you into his body as you turned to your sister with a playful smile, hand resting on Jorah’s chest. “Unless you’d want a kiss from your sister, I’d opt for the latter.”

You let your hand fall from Jorah’s chest and the three of you started walking towards the castle side by side, Jorah’s hand eventually coming to find yours. 

You talked about Dany’s trip further north as you walked, and your heart got stuck in your throat as she told you about Viserion’s death. 

You had during Visery’s final years alive hated him with every bone in your body for trying to sell you and Dany off to get the throne back, but despite this Viserion had reminded you of the earlier days where he had still been your twin brother; your Viserys. 

It pained you greatly to know that the single thing keeping that memory alive was now gone.

Jorah had noticed your change of demeanor immediately, using his leather-clad thumb to rub up and down the back of your hand. 

But knowing you had to be strong for your sister, seeing as she was the one to have lost one of her babies, you put on a strong front. 

You reached the castle in no time, not having been too far away to begin with. And Jon had wasted no time in coming up to you once spotting you walking into the bailey. 

“Princess.” He greeted you, bowing his head slightly in respect. 

You watched as Dany’s face lit up at the sight of him, your lips pulling up into a sincere smile at the sight. 

“Jon.” You greeted back, dropping Jorah’s hand to kiss Jon on his cheeks.

“How are you enjoying the North?” He asked. 

You furrowed your brows in thought, having a hard time finding the right word to describe the horrible climate. “It’s...white.”

“It’s snow.” Jon chuckled, and you felt Jorah do the same from your side. 

“I grew up in the desert.” You shot back with a teasing smile. “I barely knew what weather was, let alone snow.”

“Fair enough.” Jon snickered, before walking off with your sister, leaving you to walk alone with Jorah. 

The sun slipped below the horizon, the breeze rippling the water gently as you sat down on a stone near a stream. Jorah put his hands on your shoulders from above you, looking into the reflection of the water, you doing the same. 

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked carefully, as if afraid to hear your answer. 

You squeezed his hand. “I’m not sitting around doing nothing while you go out and fight for me. I might not be as good as you with a sword, but I can do some serious damage with a few knives and arrows, and I’ll be damned if I let you go out there alone.”

“I wouldn’t be alone.” Jorah tried convincing you. 

Although you couldn’t help but feel slightly irritated that he was, like every other time, trying to convince you to sit the fight out, you looked up at him  with a small smile. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do.” Jorah nodded. “I just wish you would take my advice and stay in the crypts.”

“I know how to defend myself, Jorah.” You caressed his hand resting on your shoulder. 

“I know you do. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Jorah gulped. “You mean more to me than life itself.”

When hearing the words leave his frozen lips, a smile came to grace your features. Standing up, you took his face in your hands like you had only minutes before, looking deep into his eyes to let him know whatever you were about to say, was true. “I’m here with you, you hear that? Always. Together we can do anything.”

Jorah smiled, after a moment of silence giving you a nod. He believed your words, he knew you could stand your ground and protect yourself. But he was still terrified. 

The dreaded moment came, sooner than you had expected and would have hoped, but nonetheless you wasted no time in getting ready for battle. 

You were just leaving the armory, having gotten dressed in fresh leather armor. Had you been able to, you would have chosen metal armor like the men, but seeing as you had to keep your flexibility to be able to shoot your bow and fight up close with your daggers, you had no other choice but to go for the less protective defense. 

Strapping your quiver of arrows to your back, you looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of your beloved’s golden hair, luckily doing so almost instantly, the man in question looking to be conversing with the younger of the Mormonts. 

As Lyanna walked away from Jorah, you began walking towards him, watching as he struggled to adjust his gorget. 

His eyes looked up at you as he heard your approach, and you smiled gently at him, immediately raising your hands to his neck. “Come here, let me fix it.”

He said nothing as you went to work on his armor, watching with soft eyes as the tip of your tongue dipped out of your mouth in concentration. 

With a snap, you managed to get the piece of metal inside the armor. You shook your head, laughing in amusement. “I don’t understand how you still to this day always forget to put on the gorget before you do the breastplate.” 

“I’m guessing it’s the age.” Jorah smiled sadly, eyes not leaving you for a second as you kept adjusting his armor to fit better. 

Finishing the final touches, you slapped his breast lightly, looking up to meet his eyes. “You’re not that old yet, Mormont.”

He didn’t answer, only gave you the saddest of eyes, causing your heart to yerk in your chest. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you can still choose to stay in the crypt.” 

You had to resist the urge to give in to his puppy eyes, instead giving him a look similar to his own. “I want to fight, Jorah.” 

He nodded, accepting your answer without more protests, knowing fully well there was no changing your mind once you had made a decision, but you could see the disappointment clear on his tired face.

Your previously teasing demeanor had completely changed by now, a frown etching onto your soft features as you brought your hands up to his hair, grabbing onto it gently. 

You leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes to take in his touch to the full, knowing he had done the same. 

“Don’t you dare die on me, Jorah Mormont.” You spoke after a minute of silence, just bathing in each others’ warmth and feel. 

“You have my word, princess.” Jorah responded, hand coming to rest on the sides of your face gingerly. 

An hour later and the battle was raging on. You hadn’t seen Dany nor Jorah the entire time, only catching glimpses of a dragon’s silhouette in the sky ever once in a while, but it was impossible to know if it was Jon or Dany. 

You had started off on the castle walls, shooting alongside the rest of the archers. But once the Others had managed to find their way through the trench and climbed the walls, you had left your position and joined the battle below you. 

You were losing, hard. That much you were sure off. But you were dead-set not to die, just as you were dead-set on finding Jorah and your sister. 

You held a hard grip on your bow as you ran, legs and arms pumping as you slid under, through and between the living and the dead in the battlefield. 

As you looked around, you caught sight of movement a bit away from the battle, and as you squinted, you could easily make out the forms of two people, one of which had the white hair of your sister. 

And you knew Jorah had to be the one who was with her. 

You pushed yourself to go faster, watching with fear in your eyes as Dany and Jorah fought alone against dozens of the dead, barely avoiding being killed several times. 

You hardened your eyes in determination, and as you watched one of the wights sneak up beside Jorah, you pulled an arrow from your back. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” You yelled, knocking two arrows in less than a second and releasing the string, letting them fly through the air and watching in success as the first one hit the blade away from the wight’s grasp, and the other buried itself in its rotting skull. 

Jorah and Dany turned their heads to look your way, relief washing through them once they spotted your form running their way. 

“Jorah, look out!” You suddenly yelled as another wight made move to stab him in the chest, right before you threw a dagger his way, successfully hitting the wight in the hand, resulting in Jorah getting stabbed in the shoulder instead. 

As you kept on running, and Jorah and Dany kept on fighting, you watched as the dead all fell limp to the ground around them just in time as you reached them. 

Only then did Jorah allow himself to fall to the floor, the many wounds in his legs and sides causing him to no longer be able to stand up. 

He groaned as he hit the ground, pressing down on his shoulder. He was hurt, there was no denying that, but thanks to you he was not hurt enough to lose his life. 

Finally reaching the pair, you wasted no time in kneeling to Jorah’s side, putting your hand on top of his to squeeze down harder to the wound. “I thought you were a man of your word, Jorah Mormont.” You managed to get out through heavy breaths, thinking back to your conversation before the battle. 

Jorah groaned quietly, grabbing your, now bloody, hand, with his other one. “How can I not be when I have you to make sure I never break them?”

You chuckled at him, tears beginning to pool in your eyes as Dany came to sit beside you.

You turned to your sister. “We need to get him to the castle, his wounds need to be tended to before they get infected.”

Danny nodded hurriedly, out of breath from fighting off the wights, and she hurried to stand up, you going to do the same but being stopped by Jorah’s hand around your wrist before you could. 

“Don’t get up.” He breathed out, causing you to stop in your tracks and slowly sing back to the ground. 

Jorah rolled around slightly to place his head in your lap, squeezing his eyes shut in pain, mumbling out a quiet “Just a little longer.” 

You looked at him for a moment before nodding, Dany coming back to your side with a cloth in hand, giving it to you to put pressure on the wound. 

Once you were sure that the cloth was tight enough to stop Jorah from bleeding out, you allowed your hand to run through his hair, letting Dany rest against you under your other arm as Drogon came to curl around the three of you, protecting you from any possible dangers as you caught your breaths together. 

#jorah mormont imagine #daenerys x jorah #jorah mormont #jorah x reader #dany x jorah #daenerys targaryen #jon x daenerys #daenerys stormborn #daenerys x jon #daenerys x reader #daenerys imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #jon snow x reader #jon snow #jon snow imagine #jon x dany

[mimiplaysgames]

A Good Defense

Pairing: Aqua/Xemnas Rating: T Word Count: 4,996

Summary: She hasn’t been the only person in twelve years to be wasted by darkness and left to pick up the remains alone. It only takes meeting a familiar face on a dangerous stranger for her to realize this.

Read on AO3

Notes: Made for the @khrarepairszine​!! Surprise, surprise, I’m sure some of you have never expected me to venture here. This was actually a cancelled fic but this zine gave me an opportunity to bring life back to it again (which is good, what I cancel always threatens me in my sleep). It was tricky writing through a slow burn in such a short amount of words but I hope it’s enjoyable! Special thanks to @lyssala for beta-reading this and holding my hand every time I was insecure about this piece. Also to my boyfriend - without him, I would have made a fool of myself.

***

Day One ~*~

“You can keep it.”

Her answer starts slow and ends with a hiss, and the enigma sitting on a tall, white throne narrows his eyes - it lasts for a mere moment, a smirk drawing on the edge of his lips and she swears he’s thinking to himself that he has something valuable.

Two can play that game. 

This is their first meeting, two days after she is discovered on the banks of a beach at night, after someone gives her a black robe to wear and leather gloves to cover the red tips of her fingers, after another introduces her to a familiar face stolen by a stranger. 

And he had the audacity to try and give her a new name.

“I am Master Aqua to you,” she says like there’s an expectation to introduce herself as such, and it comes out like an audio recording because after so many years it sounds weird to say. She’s seen herself in the mirror since coming here. She knows how much she’s changed. 

“Master Aqua,” he repeats, slowly, as though he likes to hear himself pronounce the syllables. His smile is foreign. “What is in a name, but a powerful congruence of will and faith?”

It’s enough of an introduction and she decides she can’t stand this guy. It’s wrong, he smiles wrong and for someone who thinks so little of such things, he calls himself Xemnas; not a name that should be worn with a face like his.

Day Thirteen ~*~

He catches her wandering the castle by herself, doing nothing but avoiding everyone else - particularly him. It’s hard enough to look at his face without having ugly reminders. 

“So neglectful of your commands,” he says simply.

True. She’s been traveling on her own, keeping her hood up and dropping clues to other doe-eyed Keyblade wielders on how they can free Ventus from his deep sleep.

Not because she wants them to know who she is and not because she wants to join anyone who has abandoned her. Ventus will have to suffer enough disappointment with how long she’s taken already, there’s no need to prolong it.   

Either way, anything to do with Ventus trumps whatever dumb shit and other shenanigans this Organization tries to throw at her - looking for missing boxes, babysitting princesses, it goes on. Xemnas has even commanded her on a mission to retrieve Ventus from his hiding spot. Her answer: never. 

“You can’t make me care about them,” she says with a click of her tongue, too lazy to shrug with both shoulders. 

“The cost of such defiance is steep.” His voice is deep and it rumbles even when it sneaks, startling and unnerving like a candle being snuffed out. 

It doesn’t take a day to understand what Xemnas is capable of, and immediately she stiffens to prepare an attack, battle tactics and back-up plans coursing through her mind in case he pulls out his sabers against her. She’s still a force to be reckoned with, and he’s an idiot if he’s feeling testy.

Still… It’s not something a face like his would ever say to her. Should ever say. She wants to lunge forward and slap him, lose control and pull the real him out of his body, give him one thousand long lectures about what it was like to wait for him in the darkness, to chase him around worlds, to spend years worrying about him.

“Don’t speak to me that way,” she keeps, her voice as low as it can get before it turns to a whisper.

Xemnas smiles and she almost spits that he should entertain himself rather than bother her. 

Entertaining himself indeed, every smile he gives has a double meaning and she’s only lucky to be able to guess what correctly. Otherwise, his eyes act like nothing but glass, doing their best at mimicking. 

… It’s a wonder how he does it.

His lackeys give her a lot of comments of what it’s supposed to be like. How a Nobody feels, what her responsibilities are, how to connect to her powers, what to believe, what to expect out of Kingdom Hearts and when. Yes, she has yellow eyes just like the rest of them but that means nothing. It’s only because she’s angry.

Angry enough that she stews in between the grinding of her teeth when he lets her words slide off of him like it doesn’t matter. A perfect Nobody in every sense of the word, non-feeling, non-caring, un-attached… he therefore feels no pain and so he is free. Where does he hide the secrets to achieving such a high?

Xemnas draws a hand in the air, conjuring a dark corridor. “Come, Master Aqua.” 

There’s a lot to fear in obeying him, one of which is enduring whatever punishment he’s decided for her. Not that there is a trace of threat in his voice, he’s just mostly amused. Perhaps the worst that would happen is finding out he’s just as bad company as the rest of them. Perhaps not.

She pushes the thought to the back of her mind that she shouldn’t follow a man with no hobbies.

Day Fifteen ~*~

He likes to hear himself talk.

The field trips are a nice distraction but she often finds herself tuning him out when he gets too involved in overblown monologues. She doesn’t spare this kind of time with the other Organization members - she instead follows other Keybearers to make sure they get her messages about Ventus. When he drones on about subjects too big for anyone, she’s afraid to name what she’s looking for in him. 

Maybe if she pays enough attention, she’ll find that she’s walking by herself in Twilight Town, leaving him behind at a booth selling souvenirs.

It’s a strange thing to witness Xemnas show interest in something other than the moon. He usually keeps the other members at a far distance, where talks of what he’s like as a person are no more than rumors, and there is a certain… intimacy in being allowed to see him like this. 

“A camera?” she asks when he picks one up, equipped with a neck strap and zoom lens, listening to the man behind the counter sell the idea that film photography is superior and can truly capture things as they are. 

“As a matter of fact…” Even when he’s teasing, he’s monotone. 

At least it’s a healthier pastime for him than sulking.

With his new toy, Xemnas requests a trip on the city trolley, over the sea and up a hill, until they reach a park and watch the sun bathe the entire city in a warm glow. Despite the sun’s reach, she’s cold, pulling on her sleeves to cover more of her wrists, hugging herself because even in thick leather, she shivers. Still, it’s quite a romantic little town, peaceful and vibrant. Nothing like this has ever existed in the Realm of Darkness.

“Does the view please you?” he asks, aiming the lens toward the horizon.

“I don’t care for the ocean.”

It reminds her of sinking, the water frigid and lonely where it’s too hard to swim up.

Learning how to use the camera is slow for him at first. The man has incredible focus though, and she can see the gears in his mind turning as he fumbles with the settings, twisting the lens, turning the flash on and off. 

That’s the thing with him, that mind never stays quiet even when he is.

“What are you doing all that for? Art?” she snickers - obviously that could never be the reason.

“This world exists in-between… a ghost warped by the conflict of polarity, both standing in the light yet hidden in shadow. It will not continue to endure after the War. But now I have proof of its existence.”

“So you’re keeping a record for science,” she scoffs. “Such a civil servant.”

Her own words eat her up. A servant to the public would be locked in battle with him, doing all that it takes to put a stop to his very existence, and here she is, by his side, watching him study his camera the same way she used to study her books growing up.

It makes her wonder why a man so enraptured by the clicks of his machine would be so willing to walk into the fire once the end of the world comes. 

“Why don’t you care about being swallowed by Kingdom Hearts?” she asks, half-expecting a lie as a response. 

The question pulls his attention away. “Only a suffered soul abandons purpose.”

Of course, she should have known than to hope for a straightforward answer. 

Finding a bench to sit on, she listens to him click away, each one blanketed by a pause as he adjusts ever so slightly, moving his frame from the town far below to the clock tower far away. This is familiar, like watching a close friend try his best to understand the secrets of a Keyblade, eyes lost in thought, focus spearheaded onto one thing and one thing only.

“A picture is a moment trapped in ink,” he says. “Here, a piece to take with me.”

“Where to?” 

“Kingdom Hearts,” he says and it makes his breath swell. “To wherever we shall go when the time comes. When all memory erases and we reset, in a space somewhere my existence will linger so long as I have a memory to hold onto.”

It’s not something she really thought about - him wanting to have something to possess. These people, these Nobodies, give their free will up to Xehanort’s influence, to reduce themselves to puppets. It never occurred to her that the others might have something they cherish and want to keep as well, no matter the reason why they chose to walk this path and give themselves up like this.

“It is beautiful, is it not?” he asks.

If he means the ocean, it used to be. 

She cocks an eyebrow. “That’s something that moves you?” 

He takes a seat on the bench in front of her, the camera treasured in his hands. “I am only missing a heart, not a mind. Opinions are privileged to me... What we will leave behind here is graceful, as damning as that is.”

“Hmph.” Listening to him speak about absent hearts, that he’s a hollow body, chokes her each time, like she’s facing punishment for her transgressions. 

Either way, she can’t let him see her get so affected. She flicks dirt off her cloak, leaning back and crossing her legs. 

“Xemnas,” she starts, her tone teasing like a dark thought hasn’t crossed her mind. “Superior of the In-Between, Appreciator of Beauty.”

Titles have a weight to them, some befitting and others suppressing. Xemnas is a man who gives them value, who finds agreement to what she’s saying, testing his new designation in his mind to see how well it suits. 

He studies her first. Brings the camera to his face, aims the lens at her. She sees herself in its reflection, gold eyes bright, before the flash captures her.

Day Thirty-Two ~*~

She flips through several developed photos and it comes as no surprise that she’s not smiling in any of them. She can read the timeline as she looks through portraits of herself standing by riverbanks and strolling through souks, her hair whitening by the week. 

The two of them meet in secret to look over the photographs when they’re certain no one else is in the castle, and a part of her today hopes that one of them is beautiful enough to bring her some comfort.

Ventus is no longer in Castle Oblivion. Her hints and paper trails have worked and he’s now in the custody of the other Keybearers. 

But it leaves her with a sensational loneliness, having no reason to go back and watch him sleep, and she doesn’t have anyone to talk about these feelings with. 

It’s hard to tell if she’s doing a banging job at pretending it doesn’t affect her, since she’s grumpy all the time anyway. 

Xemnas stands close, looking over her shoulder as she goes through a stack where he recorded a trip they took to a world of mountains.

Some of these photos she was aware of. Others not so much, and one in particular shows her staring at her Wayfinder, blue and powerful, while she ignores the backdrop of clouds cowering under the girth of the peaks behind her. He’s captured her standing so close to the edge yet she doesn’t even remember walking so dangerously near.

He scoffs gently. “Continue to be bound by the chains that drag you, and you will plunge into oblivion.”

She doesn’t know what game he’s playing anymore. Is he just fooling himself at this point? What other reason does he have to always follow her around unless there’s something pulling him?

Maybe it’s time to see exactly what he remembers. She’s had so many wonderful years living in the mountains with her boys, exploring the forests and camping overnight...

“We used to fish together,” she says, and the words sting more than she expected.

“Hmmm,” he sighs. “It was a leisure that came easily to me.”

Her heart skips a beat. Xemnas rambles, Xemnas tricks himself, Xemnas keeps others in the dark, the blind leading the blind. 

But this is the truest statement that he’s ever said; she’s never been the best at hunting.

“It was, you were the best at it,” she says, prodding his eyes for more. “There was a river by the closest trail and-” 

He smiles, and she almost hates it. It’s not warm, not comforting, just condescending.

“At an ocean that stretched by my childhood home, on an island, stranded in the middle of nowhere, where I fished with schoolmates,” he says.

That’s incorrect… 

The lump in her throat sinks, and it’s an emotion called devastation. She’s spent years exploring her memories privately because admitting to them would acknowledge their existence, and there’s something about the dark that makes her question whether she’s making them up. Just like he is now.

She wants to throw his photos at his face, demand that he remembers her, shake him until he gives her an expression in his eyes that actually means he feels. 

He pulls the photos from her hand, creased from her holding them too tightly. Whatever stupefied look she had on her face prompts him to say this next: “There is a place I want to show you.”

A single white room void of windows, like a capsule. But what’s inside nearly makes her wonder if she’s been transported elsewhere. There’s a white throne marked by chains and it’s uncanny how much it looks like the one Ventus slept in all this time. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” she starts to ask, suddenly terrified that she’s been found out when she spots a mess of color. 

Cracked and abandoned, just like her. Her armor in a scrap heap.

And right by it, Stormfall, dusty like it’s been waiting for as long as she has. 

“It has not been a very…” He hides his hands behind his back. “Loquacious partner.”

She’s speechless at the idea that all this time the other members think he’s been talking to himself… 

And what did he talk about? Why bother to pretend the armor is alive?

It’s enough temptation to try her hand. “Terra?”

If his smile is patronizing, his laugh is worse: breathy, amused, pitiful. 

“What is in a name,” he says, “but a hopeful delusion?”

“Don’t mess with me,” she steps forward, ready to jab a finger at his chest. “I’m not in denial. There’s so much riding with me-”

“No.” He shakes his head, so tall that he has to look down. “You have nothing.”

“I’m not like you,” she hisses. “Any of you, I don’t tell myself lies that I am nothing.”

“You cannot claim that.” The confidence in his speech is astounding. “What you have is a star-shaped trinket. A fossil. That former life of yours is dead.”

She wants to spit back. Really, she does. And yet her mouth feels sewn together, too afraid to let toxic words slip out of her mouth, too tired to have to prove herself otherwise. It’s like she’s been paranoid that punishment has been waiting for its chance to pounce, and it’s finally here. 

He’s so much larger than Terra that he has to bend over to meet her face, and he’s close enough she can smell his cologne, see the details of his irises and finally witness a spark - 

Anger lives behind them, tested, refined, and tamed. Powerful, unlike hers which throws her at whims.

“This room,” he starts, and he pierces her with his eyes, beautiful and messy, “is what I have left. A troublesome reminder that there is something I have forgotten. The chains that keep us bound are attached to an empty void. That is why we are nothing, friend.” 

The title feels like a leash and a collar around her neck, like he’s about to grab her. She braces herself for the possibility, and it churns her stomach.

“What I have earned since are the hollow words of a woman who’s told me there was nothing to darkness but hate and rage,” he continues, barely giving her the space to breathe for herself. “So I came here, to ask her time and time again if she still believes I will continue to go astray.” 

If there is a memory she ever wished for Terra’s heart to hold onto, it wouldn’t have been those words. 

“The fates that have been chiseled for us,” he continues, “were deviant… unnatural… manipulated. We should not have existed, maimed and exploited. Darkness has ravaged us, as much as it has left you destitute.”

What echoes in the silence is the shuddering of her breath, driving her to near-tears when she thought that she wasn’t capable of crying anymore. “I didn’t deserve what happened to me.” She doesn’t know why she needs to say that or what kind of comfort she will get out of it.

His eyes search her face and there’s that feeling in the back of her mind that he’s going to touch her. “I did not think so, either.”

With that, he straightens up, turning over his shoulder to leave her shivering in this cold room. 

She lunges forward to grab his wrist - a knee-jerk reaction really. Who can blame her when she’s looking for… someone to tell her it’s not her fault. When he turns to look back at her and she realizes the smile she wants is just a fantasy, she’s reminded:

Xemnas. She has to remember that he is Xemnas and not who she wants him to be. 

So she lets him go, to be left in an air-tight container with no Terra to hold her, no Ventus to wake up, and a Keyblade.

It belongs to a Master, to Aqua. And she is Aqua but she is not. 

She has been tethered and conditioned since, a dull glory with memories that don’t serve her anymore except to leave her feeling… well, destitute. An Anti-Aqua, a new her with the same name she was born with.

Certainly it feels strange to hold Stormfall again after all these years, and she takes it with her. After all, stealing a Keyblade isn’t that terrible of a crime.

Day Seventy-Nine ~*~

There isn’t so much of a point to being part of an Organization when she’s lonely even around other people. It’s daunting, and if she isn’t around Nobodies that can speak, she’s around monstrosities that can’t. 

The World That Never Was is hollow, and the sea of empty hotels and apartments is all just for show, like it’s good enough to pretend to have friends. 

But maybe that is definitely the point: keep attachments at bay to make it easier to move on to the other side when the time comes.

Footsteps softly rise as she hears him climb the steps that lead to the lounge where she waits, and it makes her smirk. He walks with the lightness of air; that’s impressive for his size.

“I come bearing gifts,” he announces when he arrives to take the couch across from her, crossing his legs as he makes himself comfortable. In his hand is a white envelope, full enough to have photos she hasn’t seen yet. 

Her face goes cold when she looks through them - it’s like he’s throwing more games at her that she’s too tired to play, like he keeps testing her to see when she finally breaks. If he hasn’t figured her out yet, he certainly has now. 

Ventus, in all of them. Wandering streets by himself with the curiosity of a toddler. Laughing with Sora. Sparring with Riku. 

She inhales sharply. “What do you want with him?”

“Nothing,” he says like it’s his favorite word. “I do not wish to harm him.”

“Stalking and endangering him makes you look bad.”

All Xemnas does is flash her a smug grin, his fingers on his chest like he’s proud of himself. “It appears I am not the heartless one between the two of us, throwing such a blatant accusation against me.”

Being playful doesn’t suit him well but at least she’s fond of it. He lets go of a long breath, the smirk melting away into a faraway longing as he stares at his own hand, those gears of his turning. 

It gives her the impression that her reaction stung him, and she wonders if anyone has ever asked him if his feelings have been hurt. If he’s even capable of being offended that way. 

Rubbing his gloved fingers against his palm, Xemnas shakes his head. “There was a… an oath made to me long ago, and still I cannot recall the exact words.”

Aqua doesn’t know what to say - Terra and Ventus were like brothers, and sometimes would share secrets and promises without her knowing, so she really can’t help him remember. 

She wishes, though, that he’s easier to read. It’s hard to tell if he’s being entirely sincere or if he’s pulling fanciful words to suit her - if he has other reasons not to attack Ventus. Come to think of it, he only asked her to find Ventus for him once… though it’s unsafe to assume too much. Believing that he feels a bond is still a risk, but so long as she can take care of herself, it’s probably a good idea to humor him.

It’s for the best since Ven isn’t something Xemnas should think he can keep.

“How long I have searched for the chamber that kept him locked away for more than a decade,” he continues. “I admit all I yearned for were answers to questions no book can satiate. Now... he simply waltzes out of the castle with nary a helping hand.”

It’s the way he says it that tells her he knows. 

She shrugs. “Magically.”

“Magically.” At least he’s amused. “The portraits are yours to keep.”

She takes another glance, petting her thumb on the smooth surface where his cheek was captured. “How is he?”

“He is healthy.” He leans back, one elbow on the armrest. “Rambunctious and eager to fight.” 

“Did he see you?”

“No.” He takes one hard look at her. “Will you not meet with him?”

“No.”

He attempts to ask why but she cuts him off. “He’d be very upset if-” Takes a moment. Regain composure. There’s nothing left to cry over, he’s happy and he deserves it. “If he saw either of us this way.”

She adds, “my body is changing.”

The confession is like pulling a stopper, letting the water gush down the drain like a hurricane, where tears do not come out of her eyes but out of the growling in her throat and the fists she makes as she slips off her gloves to show him the red fingertips, the purple wrists, the smoke that poofs out like she’s sweating it.

Nothing could have prepared her for how much his smile falls, completely enraptured with what he sees, like she’s a foreign specimen in need of study.

“To feel so intensely,” he says mostly to himself, leaning over the table in between them to look at it more closely. “That it alters the host.” He frees a hand from his glove, and his skin looks smooth like a human’s - for someone who considers himself a monster, she’s the only one who looks like one.

He reaches over, as if asking for her hand. It has to be the most human thing to be curious. 

Meeting him halfway, they press their palms against each other, the rolls that make up the hand and fingers shifting as they fill the gaps. His are so familiarly big, so amazingly warm, and she’s been certain this entire time that she’d never feel hands like these again. It’s pleasant to find some solace from the frigidity of her scales.

Splaying his fingers to meet hers, he plays: first leaning into hers to see how far they can bend, then threading them together one by one, like he understands what it is to hold a hand but has never learned what it’s supposed to feel like.

Intertwined like this, he’s now leashed to her, bound by a chain he can’t break either.

Day Eighty ~*~

It’s hard to count the hours when there’s no sun. It could be late or early, whatever, but either way sleep has decided not to say good night no matter how many times she’ll toss and turn. 

Suppose the only question keeping her awake is whether any of this matters. When that heart-shaped moon finally opens and she disintegrates, suppose she’ll become the inky sky that allows the stars to shine in the new world, a ghost so far away and expansive that she’ll stretch forever and witness everything. 

Or instead, she’ll turn into a star, a memory of the way things were and she’ll shine brightly to give others hope. Maybe even become the sun and be the source of all life. 

She takes her hand, lets her cold, scaly fingers brush her chest first before finding her heartbeat, quiet and calm with the hours in rest. 

Still, what is the point if she’s at it alone? Will she blend into other people? Will she reconnect with Terra and Ven? Will she forget about them, about her current life, about pain and loss?

After all, the only way to remove the loss is to wipe away the reminiscence. 

With this in mind, she leaves her bed and this empty room. 

Whatever she becomes, the least she can have is something to hold onto. She should be allowed to keep the things she’s loved. Maybe nothing will happen - maybe they can run away, abandon crazy prospects and make a life out of what’s left. 

Finding herself standing in front of Xemnas’ door, she knocks, somewhere between soft and demanding. When he opens the door, he’s finishing the zipper up his cloak, having just stood from his desk where his camera splays open. 

“Don’t say anything,” Aqua says. There’s been enough thinking, enough existential crises tainted by the question of why’s and when’s and what’s. 

They’re wasting time and she doesn’t want to be alone when her bones turn to dust. 

Xemnas still has his glove-less fingers on his zipper when he steps aside and lets her walk through the threshold into his room, respecting her request to keep silent, a small smirk pulling on his face.

Aqua closes the gap between them, her head leaning against his chest, nuzzling on the leather he wears. He likes to talk big about being nothing, but there it is, his heartbeat, quiet and calm like it doesn’t want to be discovered.

What’s in a name indeed, a man once said to her when his own very name, Xemnas, is a body and a mind. He is someone, and Kingdom Hearts will take him away too. 

Hearing its beat lulls her and finally, finally, she thinks she’ll be able to find sleep for this long night. Gripping his leather into her fists, her breath slows and she rests against him, taking his warmth as a reminder that she’s alive for now. There’s nothing else relevant except the lack of rhythm in their hearts and that camera, a small trinket they can take with them so at least they can share a life that isn’t dead. 

He helps himself to a lock of her hair as he intertwines it into his fingers, his free hand claiming the small of her back, his warm breath on her scalp as he searches for his own meaning of life. 

“It’s magnificent,” he says about whatever it is he’s finding. 

She hums, half in contempt that he’s speaking and half asleep, intoxicated by his cologne as she pulls on his cloak, squeezing her fist tighter like tonight will be the last.

“Xemnas,” she calls but does not follow-up. 

She was about to say that he can continue to take photos of her, to let her take some of him with her, to liven the mood, to keep her warm because this entire castle is cold… to do something or tell her a story of a world where the sun rises from the west. Maybe they can find it together and gather proof of it. 

He’s been wrong all along - there is power to a name and if he wants to deny that, then she’ll have to slap him out of such a problem.

He moves slightly and now his hair covers her face but he grips her tighter. The door to his room closes. He carries her to bed, and she lets herself drown in his mouth as his weight pressures her to sink, down to the depths where they gasp for air together. 

#xemqua #aqua #anti-aqua #dark aqua #xemnas #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #AHHHHH i'm honestly deathly nervous to post this #i just don't know what people are going to think eeeeeeeeeeeeek #my fic

[andy-loves-corgis]

All of The Lights - Ch 4 (TRR AU)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: well, now just the dysfunctional Rileyx Liam and the awful Liam x Madeleine

Rating: PG

Word count: ~ 3,300

Notes: I’m so sorry and I hated this chapter, that’s all I can say. Thanks, whoever is still here ♥️

WARNING: Read the Prologue! Every chapter has TWO timelines, Before (about a year before the Prologue) and After (two years after the prologue), if you don’t pay attention to that you might get confused!

Fast cars, shooting stars

BEFORE

Drake stretched his fingers absentmindedly, after a week immobilized he decided upon taking the gauze off and though a little sore, they seemed to have healed perfectly.

“What in the seven hells?!”

Liam was horrified, Drake could see by his contorted face looking outside the tinted windows of the limo.

Looking like every bit of a Cordonian Sweetheart, Riley stood in front of the press, half of her chocolate locks now a deep shade of red, some blonde spots seen between the brown and the red, redder than Liam’s livid face.

“I’m telling you, Drake. She has a very unique way of driving me insane” Liam said burying his face in his hands.

“I think it suits her” Drake tried to control the smirk in his lips.

Yes, Riley had her own way of bringing hell to Liam, or basically anyone who crossed her way. He knew she had been stressing over her broken ankle and not being able to care for herself, whether dying her hair herself or painting an entire wall of her home, she would always find a way to express her need of change.

Leaving the limo with a now very composed Liam, Drake spotted another livid individual, Madeleine’s nostrils flared under her perfectly done makeup, of course she would hate to divide the spotlight with Riley.

The press went wild as Liam walked to Riley, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek, and whispering something on her ear that made her face fall as he turned smiling to the camera.

That’s none of your business

He just walked away from the frenzy of the crowd, who had just spotted Leo, poor guy, Leo was suffering so much he even lost weight, which could be completely related to his drinking habits and whole-night sex with his maids. The future king was doing anything to forget that he would soon to be married to one of those uptight bland women or worse... Madeleine.

On the far corner, next to the boats, Drake found his father’s pupil, looking as tired as someone could be.

“You look like shit, Bastien” Drake laughed, standing beside his only living father figure.

“Every night with Leo takes a week out of my life span” Bastien whispered.

Drake tried unsuccessfully suppress a laugh.

Looking at all the nobles in their exclusive designer clothes gathering around the harbor just to see those girls who never tied a knot in their life, Drake felt glad for living in the invisible sidelines, he always thought that he preferred the snarky comments and side outraged glances than the fake smiles and sugar-coated condescending words.

“I hate those stuff, how to you manage to survive to every one of these things?” Drake sighed as soon as the boats sailed. “It’s just so boring.”

“It’s just work, it’s not every time that we are breathing on some terrorists neck” Bastien simply said. “Sometimes you are in Bósnia-Herzegovina at 04:23 am to pick up a drunk heir to the throne.”

Drake snorted again, excusing himself to get some water.

“No, Liam, YOUR problem is that I didn’t tell you I was going to dye MY hair!” It was undoubtedly Riley’s voice behind the drink station.

“Well, if you wanted so much to look like Olivia, you should’ve dyed it all” Drake could almost picture Liam’s smirk, knowing he’d hit a soft spot.

“EXCUSE ME?!”

Drake cleared his throat and the voices turned to angry whispers, until he heard hard steps towards the Riva, Liam appeared chewing the insides of his cheeks and adjusting the collar of the shirt under his sweater, barely throwing a second glance at Drake.

The commoner made his way to the secluded place where Riley stood leaning on a fence massaging her temples.

He was about to greet her when they heard the cheering voices of the crowd.

“Shit!” Riley exclaimed.

Even though what unfolded in front of him wasn’t anything new, every time Drake saw Riley inhaling deeply before putting the most dazzling smile on her face, he was amazed - saddened to the core, but amazed nonetheless.

“Oh hi!” She said in a cheerful tone, if Drake hadn’t grown up with her, he might have believed she was happy. “Mind to help?”

One of her crutches had fallen to the ground and Drake quickly lowered himself to get it, he noticed her swollen calves and a crease formed in his eyebrows.

“Thanks” she smiled and left walking like with her head held high.

Sometimes he couldn’t understand what it took to be like that, to live like that.

Madeleine won, obviously, as if she hadn’t paid Nick Thompson to sail for her, but in the end, it was all power games during social season.

Imagine a dozen of the most well-crafted women of the kingdom, they were molded since they were able to walk to sit still, look pretty, pour tea and to think like true strategist.

No, Cordonian court wasn’t a complete sexist place, of course as in any patriarchal society men would have the upper hand on the ladder to success, but women were always behind that.

Drake watched as Madeleine hugged Riley while the other suitors clapped, those sweet smiles only hiding their next step.

“Do you like whiskey?” He heard Liam’s voice next to him.

“Was that even supposed to sound like a question?” Drake rose an eyebrow to his best friend.

“Hope McCallan isn’t too cheap for you” Liam’s smirk grew.

“Liam, every time you come up with the whiskey talk it’s because you’re gonna ask me to do something I don’t wanna do... what is it?”

Liam cleared his throat but kept the smirk

“Well, there’s whiskey... in Olivia’s yacht”

The prospect of that night becoming a huge nightmare has shifted to 112%.

“Please...?” Liam gave him a forced smile.

Gathering all the force he still had, Drake just nodded, rubbing his eyes to avoid the scowl.

Well, at least there will be whiskey.

Olivia’s yacht was big enough for a family of four to live comfortably, but oddly enough she gathered her guests on the small deck by the jacuzzi.

The sun was setting and they were a swimming distance from the shore, but the view was still a breathtaking, sipping from his whiskey, Drake noticed that Riley was focused on another view.

By the jacuzzi Liam laughed with Olivia, their elbows touching as they sat side by side in the hot water. To any spectator the scene unfolding would look as friends having a good time together, but to anyone who knew that little love triangle, it was way more than that.

York: I’m about to throw myself in the waters.

He tried not to laugh at the message on his phone, Riley was known for being dramatic, so he casually walked to the jacuzzi, under Kiara’s blushing gaze and Olivia’s scowl.

“Hey” he squatted next to Liam. “I don’t think Riley is feeling well, I’ll take her back okay?”

Liam’s knitted his eyebrows puzzled.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s feeling nauseous” Drake came up with the first excuse he could think of.

“Oh, well...”

“Leighton can take them to the shore, Li” Olivia interjected without looking at Drake.

“See you at the palace” Drake taped Liam’s shoulder, wetting his hand in the process.

He walked between the crowd, their champagne glasses glinting on the fading sun.

“Let’s get out of here, York” he looked at his miserable friend.

“Thank God” she answered grabbing his hand for support.

It was a short way to the shore and they made their way in silence as droplets of sea water splashed on their faces.

Drake helped her hop on his truck and finally felt at ease feeling Riley get comfortable turning the radio on.

Night fell as the black truck made its way through the woods near the palace where a clearing welcome then along with a smirk Riley couldn’t suppress.

“And I thought you were just going to leave me alone in my room to scroll through Twitter” she laughed as he helped her out of the car and proceeded to open the pick up truck bed where some pillows and covers awaited them.

“I got your back, York” he smiled as she got cozy on the pillows and he pulled his guitar.

After a minute of only the soft melody he was playing and the wind hushing on tree leaves she turned to him.

“Sing something”

He gave it a little thought, slowly striking the chords before he decided.

I wanna be drunk when I wake up

On the right side of the wrong bed

And never an excuse I made up

Tell you the truth I hate

What didn't kill me,

It never made me stronger at all

Love will scar your make up

Lips sticks to me, so now I maybe lean back there

I'm sat here wishing I was sober

I know I'll never hold you like I used to

But a house gets cold when you cut the heating

Without you to hold I'll be freezing

Can't rely on my heart to beat in

'Cause you take parts of it every evening

Take words out of my mouth just from breathing

Replace with phrases like 'when you leaving me? '

Should I? Should I?

Maybe I'll get drunk again

I'll be drunk again, I'll be drunk again

To feel a little love

“That’s beautiful... and sad. You should really start playing it somewhere” her small voice filled the silence. “Is it about Erika?”

Drake shrugged.

“I guess it was when I first thought about it”

“You never told me why you two broke up” she propped herself on her elbows.

“It just didn’t work out”

“Well, I never liked her” Riley laughed.

“You never liked any of my girlfriends, York” he threw a pillow at her.

“Hey! I’ll like her when it’s the right one okay?”

“Yeah, now shut up and look up” he adjusted himself next to her.

He heard her soft gasp at the sight of the falling stars, as if she was the same 10-year-old girl he brought there along with his sister and father to see their first meteor shower. He felt her hand grabbing two of his fingers and smiled.

“Make a wish, Walker”

AFTER

The sun wasn’t too high in the sky when he finished shaving, God forbids Madeleine saw a glint of facial hair on anyone at any of her events, not that he minded what she thought, but he rather be invisible at this event.

A cup of coffee and a croissant later, he found himself at the site of the barn raising, it would be so fun watch the nobles having the day to pretend they have any inclination to do hard work. Penelope and Kiara for example were wearing high heels, he betted 5 euros one of them would fall in 5 minutes.

Drake laughed to himself but got pulled out of his thoughts by a loud engine blasted on the road, the feeling of déja vu overcoming him, he knew exactly who loved loud engines drawing the attention to her entrance.

Shit

A white Bugatti stopped at the entrance and for a second, after seeing the frightened face of Hana getting out of the car, he forgot that he was pissed.

Although he remembered on the next second when Riley got out of the driver’s side laughing heartedly, she was wearing a simple plaid shirt, jeans shorts and sneakers, all the flashes were on her, the first press appearance since she was back two weeks ago.

“Lady Riley! Lady Riley!” The press screamed to get her attention. “How does if feel to be back?”

“Amazing!” She smiled, but he saw right through her, she didn’t get any better at hiding her lies and discomfort than she did at 18.

“Lady Riley! How do you describe your style today?”

“Riley York ready to build a barn” Maxwell made his way through the press to hug Riley and Hana.

“Lady Riley! Don Brine here! We see your coming with a new crew, Lady Hana and Lord Maxwell, does this has anything to do with your best friend getting engaged to your ex while you were away?”

Her smile faltered for a second, Drake held his breath without even knowing, across from the press he finally acknowledged Madeleine grabbing Liam’s arms forcefully while the future king didn’t blink watching Riley getting close to them.

“I think I’ll have to set the record straight” she pulled Madeleine’s hand into hers, locking them in an uncomfortable hold. “Liam, Madeleine and I all grew up together, and some people change along the way, some relationships change along the way.”

Riley’s angelic face gave the future monarchs the sweetest smile, Drake could almost touch the longing in Liam’s eyes.

“Liam and Madeleine will rule wisely and will be remembered for generations, and I couldn’t be more than happy for them. i guess that’s all.”

“One more thing Lady York. Ana de Luca for trend. We got an anonymous tip that you were away on a rehab clinic for self harm, what do you have to say about that?”

Drake saw Riley twisting Madeleine’s hand.

“Ana, some people don’t know when to shut up” she smirked and left them under the urges for more words and flashes blinking.

He watched as Liam cleared his throat and gave his speech on the barn raising, completely mechanical as he forced himself not to look over to Riley laughing with her friends.

Drake saw himself standing awkwardly with his hands buried in his pockets until he felt a light touch in his arms.

“It will all happen again, won’t it?” Kiara’s black eyes met his and wandered where Riley was. “She’s a bulldozer Drake, I remember how you were when she left, how Liam was, god, even Penelope...”

“Shall we start?” Liam started gathering everyone, not giving him any time to answer Kiara.

“Kiara and Penelope can help with the hay, Maxwell and Hana can take care of painting the fences and... Drake and Riley will work lifting the wood of the barn walls.” Madeleine smiled proudly at herself and Liam choked.

“It’s too much of manual labor for a Lady, my dear, I’m sure Lady Riley could trade places with Maxwell” Liam pondered.

“No way, it would give my hands blisters!” Maxwell interjected and Riley laughed.

“Don’t be silly dear, Lady Riley spent the last year as a working woman in America.” Madeleine’s fire gaze pierced through Liam’s blue eyes.

“Hey Liam, it’s okay really, I used to do some heavy lifting at work...” Riley finally spoke and Liam’s gaze went from her to Drake.

At that moment Drake understood why Liam didn’t want her inside the barn.

“Told you so..” Kiara whispered beside him.

“I can help you two...”

“No, you can’t!” Madeleine exclaimed more fiercely that she probably intended. “We need to make rounds and pose for pictures dear, it’s our engagement event after all.”

“Then we should go!” A completely anxious Penelope stated, wanting as much as any of them to be excluded from the awkwardness.

Drake sighed and made his way to the structure of the barn without a second glance to Riley. He was preparing the wood when she reached their spot.

“Hey, let me help” she said smiling and reaching for the wood he was carrying, he didn’t reply.

They worked in silence for almost an hour, she didn’t back up from any activity, from carrying heavy buckets of water for the horses, to helping him pulling up the wood.

“We’re still a good team!” She exclaimed after most of the work was done, he stole a glance and her proud look and warm smile, a drop of sweat descending from her neck.

“We’re not a team” he grunted at his relapse.

The smile vanished from her face.

“After everything, how you can say that?”

“After everything, how can YOU say that?” Drake spat turning fully to her. “Why the hell did you come back, Riley? Why didn’t you just disappear and let us live our pathetic lives here?”

“Why didn’t you let me drown, Drake? It would definitely be better than be here now, right?”

Drakes face fell, and suddenly flashes of that fateful afternoon flooded him like the gelid winter see, the white dress plastered on her numb skin, the muttering blue lips, his heart beating so hard in his chest, wanting to trade places with hers, to make her alive again.

He got close to her, closer than he should for the sake of his sanity, he could feel the heat coming from her body as her resolve slowly crumbled and his rage grew.

“Go to hell, Riley. Fuck you!” She shrank at his words, spat so cruelly it made her eyes watery.

Drake suddenly couldn’t breath so he left the almost finished barn to the hired workers to complete, the sun hanging low in the sky only heating his chest more, he wanted to scream, but he refused to be seen by anyone of the court, so, like a coward, he just sneaked out.

The humming sound of his truck engine was the only thing calming him right now, he drove aimlessly for more than an hour until night came and he saw himself somewhere he almost forgot it existed, somewhere he locked in her mind along with every other memory of Riley.

He sat on the empty boot of his truck, opening a can of beer and looking at the sky, as if he was a child, he was desperate for a shooting star so he could ask for everything to be normal again.

The loud engine once again pulled him from his thoughts, the white Bugatti now had several brown spots of dirt on its side, she sat on the hood, no respect for a €4 million car, one more reason he could add to the list for hating her.

“I’m sorry.” She said without looking at him, her tired eyes lost, miles away, in the sky.

Drake looked at the beer in his hands, then back to the sky.

“I shouldn’t have said that today.” He heard her sighing. “I actually never thanked you, so thank you, Drake.”

“For what?” He gave another gulp to his beer.

“For taking me out of the waters, whichever mean it has, you saved my life in more ways than that for years, but that day, that day I only came back breathing because of you.” Her eyes were full of tears once again, eyes pleading to him. “I didn’t come back to screw everything, I just... I miss my best friend, Drake.”

“I just can’t understand why, Riley?” He licked his dry lips, thinking of how to say it. “You gave up on us, you decided to stay, and then... why? You really meant it? You really wanted it?”

He really hoped she said no.

“Yes” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I wanted to die that day.”

“Why?” He tried in vain to keep his emotions under control.

“I don’t know” she dried her cheeks with her sleeves. “ I came back to try and find it out, it’s the only thing holding me back, I need to find out. Then I promise you’ll never hear of me again.”

.

If you wanna be out of the tags, just let me know

@drakewalkerrosenberg @sleepwalkingelite @agent-bossypants @pug-bitch @iplaydrake @rtinaz @silviasutton1989 @ooo-barff-ooo @likethetailofacomet @notoriouscs @mind-reader1 @annekebbphotography @walkerismychoice @tmarie82 @blackwidow2721 @thequeenchoices @missameliep @jovialyouthmusic @perksof-everything @choicesmacmakes @carabeth @drakenazario @drakesensworld @moneyfordiamonds @ao719 @lynne1993 @ilovedrakewalker23 @msjpuddleduck @iplaydrake @drakewalkerisreal @violinist3121 @wannabemc2 @gibbles82 @furiousherringoperatortoad @jenp02cutie-blog 

#drake x mc #drake walker #choices fanfiction #choices trr #trr fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #choices stories you play #the royal romance #trr drake #trr

[the-darklings]

as dark as the night (maybe darker still);

pairing: villain!rk900 x hero!reader

words: 3.3k+

request: none, but this idea began with this post and I highly suggest you read it before continuing on because this fic is a direct continuation/expansion of it.

notes: your girl is trash what can I even say? The morality/struggle of romantic villain x reader relationship is too tempting also ~Nines~

warnings: NADA 

. . .

“He refuses to talk.”

You bit your tongue while Hank released a colourful array of swear words at Connor’s quiet declaration.

“I say we throw the fucker in a hole somewhere, and make sure he never sees the light of day,” Hank snapped angrily. “He has some nerve after everythin’ he’s done—”

“It doesn’t work like that, Lieutenant,” you cut in, a note of disapproval clear in your voice, “I appreciate this is a difficult situation for you, considering it was your squad that he—”

“Yeah! He butchered them. That crazy asshole didn’t so much as blink,” Hank barked, fury lacing every inch of his face and voice. “If you had just—”

“Lieutenant,” Connor interrupted, a heavy furrow of his eyebrows showcasing his displeasure, “We cannot throw blame around. Besides...he said he will talk under one condition.”

Your head turned to your partner—your friend—in confusion, only to find his calm, steady gaze already fixed on you.

The realisation was like icy water being dumped all over you.

“No,” was your strangled whisper, heavy and nervous, “No Connor—I—I refuse.”

Connor took a hurried step towards you, reaching forward in that steadying, calming manner you’ve seen him use hundreds of times, “(Name) I’m sorry but he said he will only talk with you. I’m sorry to have to ask this but you know that I—”

“No,” you growled angrily, harsh bitterness bleeding through your tone, “I have done enough. I have given up enough. Please don’t ask this of me Connor. Please, as my friend, I’m begging you don’t ask me to speak with him. I—I can’t,” you trailed off, your voice growing weaker and more hurt the further you went.

There was something about Nines—Richard, you had called him Richard once, lovingly and soft; the way one would confess their deepest desires in secret—that managed to weaken you explicitly every time.

“It seems like this weakness might be mutual after all.”

His gentle words were like the sharp edges of a knife he had stuck into your gut only a month ago. If it hadn’t been for Connor—

But Rich—Nines knew about Connor coming too. Always three, five, ten steps ahead of everyone else.

“You’re always smarter and stronger, is there even a point in trying with you?” you had asked once with a mild laugh.

His smirk was softer than usual, almost warm as he brushed his fingers down the length of your arm, interlocking your fingers together. Something flitted across his expression as he thoughtfully gazed down at your connected hands.

“You challenge me (Name),” he had confessed then, words clearly foreign to him by the careful way he spoke them. “You make me question things. Your power is...it calls to me. I enjoy you in ways I have never enjoyed another's presence. I think...”

Your eyebrows had hiked up at his hesitation. That was unusual—odd, in fact—in a man who breathed meticulously constructed words and plans. Everything about Richard was composed and methodical.

“What is it?”

“I think you and I are meant to complete each other,” he whispered slowly, almost reverently, as he pulled you closer, pressing a lingering kiss against your temple. “No one has ever come close to equalling my power, but you...we will change this world together (Name).”

“(Name), please,” Connor’s pleading voice tore through the hazy memory, splintering it brutally. “We need to know what happened to Markus. I wish more than anything I didn’t have to ask this. But this is the last time. We find where Markus is being kept, and you will never have to see him again, you have my word.”

Something moved just beneath your skin; a hard, nameless thing you didn’t dare to acknowledge. Your power rolled just beneath the fragile layer, and you knew your unease came from Connor’s words, as well as the fact that the one who always sparked your abilities the most was close.  

The look you gave Connor was full of bitterness, mixed with sadness as you shoved past him, not bothering to look at the glaring Lieutenant.

“(Name)—”

“Don’t bother,” you spat out, not letting Connor finish, “I do this one thing for you Connor. But you never contact me after this again, understood? I’m done.”

You stormed out of the room, pausing before the first door on your right. You could feel it even now. The tingle, the subtle buzz; like low level electric current running up and down your skin.

The door hissed open, and you walked into the holding cell stiffly, head held high. The sole light hung above the table, faintly illuminating the room as you dragged a metal chair back, seating yourself down in one orderly motion.

He sat opposite to you, his black turtleneck blending in with the shadows of the room. His head was tilted back, baring the smooth, powerful shape of his neck as his eyes remained closed. His elegant, long fingers were folded on the table, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he exuded icy, effortless sort of arrogance. He might as well have been a king sitting on his throne, and not a prisoner being held in a cell.

“What other pitiful attempt are you going to make Connor? I told you already,” his cold, apathetic voice filled the empty room, crawling across your suddenly clammy skin, “I will speak with no one but (Name).”

Swallowing shakily, you narrowed your eyes, trying to bury your unease, “Can’t even tell who’s walking into the room anymore? You’re losing your touch.”

His reaction was instant.

Nines’ nostrils flared as his eyes flew open, his head snapping towards you, gaze sharp and heated. His eyes moved hungrily over your features, lingering on your lips for moment too long before his eyes finally levelled on yours. The low light seemed to make his eyes glow; like two sheets of ice caught in the bright winter sun, they were terrible in their beauty.

“(Name).”

Your heart squeezed, and you hated him so much in that moment. Hated him for the way his mouth—a terrible, awful thing capable of unleashing words of pure destruction and mayhem—spoke your name like it was the most precious word in any language known to man.

You didn’t reply, maybe because you couldn't—not yet—or perhaps because you simply had nothing to say.

He leaned closer slowly, suddenly attentive, previous indifference wiped clean from his frame, “Tell me, did he beg you to come, or did you do it by choice?”

“If it was up to me, I would never see your face again, and I assure you after today you never will,” you spoke harshly, “I hate you, and I stopped you, just like I said I would. Does that answer your question?”

The chains connecting his handcuffs chimed from the sharp way he leaned closer, straining them to be as near as possible. Harshness twisted his face, and there was nothing nice about the sudden twist of his mouth, “Oh, (Name), you cannot lie to me, remember?” he practically purred, his teeth bared in that dangerous, brutal way that made your pulse jump. “I know you. We’re two halves of a whole. You yearn for me the same way I yearn for you. Why else would I allow someone as dangerous as you to still draw breath?”

“Because you’re a psychopath who enjoys your twisted little games,” you replied through gritted teeth, leaning closer as your eyes narrowed. “You kill people, do awful things—you stabbed me. And you call it what exactly? Love? You’re a monster, and you will pay for things you have done, you can be sure of that. You disgust me.”

“Cut the scripted ‘you’re so evil and I’m so good’ talk,” was his sharp retort, his eyes narrowing into slits, “You are not like them. You are like me. You see them for what they are, even when you wish you couldn't. They need you now because you’re a convenient tool for them to use. How long do you think that will last? How long before all the bad guys are locked up? Do you think they will not turn against you? That they will not deem you a danger to society? That they will not hunt you for what you are? You do know...you see it even now. The doubts, the suspicions, the accusations—they are lying to you. Let me keep you safe as I once did. Your place is by my side (Name).”

“You will be rotting away in prison soon,” you whispered tightly, your fingers shaking, “So I guess your offer is useless.”

He laughed huskily; the sound amused and deep as it rumbled from his chest, and you felt another stab deep in your heart. How many times have you heard that noise wash over you as he held you close to him? Skin pressed against yours as you both marvelled at the burning, harmonious way your power blended together.

“Do you really think they can keep me here,” he asked with an amused, half grin while he leaned as close as he could, chains rattling again, “They couldn't keep me in this little cage of theirs if they tried for a hundred years. I can demolish this city overnight if I wanted. They can’t stop me.”

You weren't afraid of him—of his nearness—maybe because you were truly strong enough to face him or maybe because you were simply too angry to care, “Maybe they can’t, but I can. Don’t forget you taught me everything you know. We’re equals after all Nines,” you mocked as you slanted your head at an angle, mimicking him.

His expression was sly, knowing, and you saw his fingers twitch on the table as if he was holding himself back. “That we are. Yet you allow them and their corrupt system to control you. Why?” he questioned curiously, head tilting as he gazed at you fixedly, “Why shackle yourself to them and their lies?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to shackle myself to yours?” you shot back with ferocity that surprised you both as your power shimmered beneath your skin. “Everything about you has been lies. All you ever did was lie, Richard. Everything we were was a lie. I thought I—”

He drummed his fingers against the metal once, before he splayed his open palm against the table, his expression growing darker and more serious the more you spoke. Any traces of sly, mocking humour were gone, leaving nothing but sharp, familiar angles of his beautiful face.       

“You mean more than you know,” was his quiet, barely there whisper and you almost cringed away from him. Was it that obvious? Or was the truth simpler? Were you truly so intertwined he could read you so easily, so effortlessly? “I still want you by my side (Name). Even now you can feel it, can’t you? Like a whisper calling you to me. Every memory, every touch, every kiss. You have poisoned me, and I have etched myself so deeply inside of you, I can feel a part of me living in your heart (Name). We share a power no one else can even begin to comprehend. A burden that comes with knowing you can destroy with a single breath, but the will to hold yourself reigned in. They will use you till they no longer need you. I know because I’ve been where you’ve been. And I will not allow them to do this again. Not to you. I will not allow them to ruin you for their gain.”

Your heart was beating so loudly, you prayed to whatever higher powers there may be, he could not hear it. That he could not sense through your bond how every atom of you wanted to believe him, how your power coiled inside you—desperate and missing the connection between you two—as you stared at him steadily.

Licking your lips once, you instead said, “Where is Markus?”

Something cold flickered across his face, the previous subtle softness all but wiped away as he rolled his eyes, glancing away dismissively towards the two-way mirror, “Ah yes, the fair leader. I’ve always been rather curious. Why does he lead when you are so much more powerful than him?”

“Some people are not made for leadership, and I’m one of them,” you replied warily, suddenly worried about the way his icy stare slowly slid to you, eyebrow arching slightly. “I don’t want that responsibility,” you added cautiously.

“Do not lie to me,” he repeated, words cutting and hard, while his eyes examined you shrewdly, “You do not lead because you are afraid. Afraid to take your rightful place. Those with power rule this world, it is simply the way of things. Why are you...you are afraid that you will become like me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

There was no point of lying to him about this. He would see right through your deceit anyway.

“Yes, I’m afraid that I’ll end up like you—cold and remorseless, a monster. That I will care for no one and nothing. That I will leave nothing but devastation and pain in my wake. I don’t want to be like you,” you confessed in a gentle, distant voice. “I don’t want to destroy people the way you do. The way you destroyed me when you betrayed me. You left me alone when I needed you most. I trusted you, and you left. I loved you, and you chose power and absolute control over me. So don't think even for a second that I believe a word coming from your mouth. Just another act, another attempt to weave me into your web. I know you too Nines. I know how effortlessly you lie. I know how to play this game too, perhaps you taught me too well. A weakness that goes both ways, right? Now tell me where Markus is or I’m going to walk out that door and you will never see me again.”

His stare was like spotting a hurricane from a distance—too far to hurt you just yet—but still powerful enough to fill you with unshakable sense of terror.

His mouth twitched upwards, a faint smile curling his lips, and it brought back too many memories. Memories of seeing that smile for the first time; how it felt against your bare skin while he trailed kisses down your neck.

“What time is it?”

Air rushed out of your lungs in one go, and you blinked, “What? What does that have anything to do with this?”

“Well if you want to know where Markus is I need you to tell me the time,” he explained easily, lacing his fingers together elegantly as he looked at you, a ghost of a smile still gracing his lips as he gazed at you almost...fondly.

You allowed your eyes to flicker towards your watch, and when you looked up at him again he was still peering at you patiently.

“Two minutes to midnight.”

He leaned closer, the simmering heat in his eyes immediately setting you on edge, “And we both know what day it will be when that clock hits midnight.”

The screech of your chair sliding backwards was deafening as you stood up hurriedly, heading straight for the door as your heart stuttered in your chest.

Oh, he sure knew how to hit where it hurt the most.

“Did you think it was a coincidence?” his sly, deliberate words stopped you dead in your tracks. “After what happened on that rooftop a month ago, they kept you away from me. As if they could separate us. So tell me, fiancé, do you think it was a coincidence you caught me a day before our engagement anniversary? It’s time for us to celebrate like real lovers would.”

Dread flooded your chest and your head snapped in his direction. He had one elbow propped on the back of his chair, body lazily stretched out as he peered at you, head mockingly tilted to one side. He bared his teeth in that monstrous smile, and the blood in your veins froze.

BANG

The structure of the building shook, debris flying in every direction as lights flickered wildly. Stumbling, you braced yourself against the freezing wall, a cough choking you as you covered your mouth. The lights blinked erratically as another explosion shook the structure, your knees quaking with it.

“Hello, lover,” a purr grazed against the shell of your ear before a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

The power churning beneath your skin flared at the sound of his voice, at his touch, but you pushed against the wild joy, against the feeling of rightness. You shackled your power so it would stop from reaching out for his—raw, terrifying and bottomless against your warm, blazing and equally endless power.

He turned you around, pressing you against the wall as light and shadows danced across the slopes of his face, “Why do you pull away (Name)? Let me feel you.”

His forehead pressed against yours, and you gasped when his power engulfed you, “Don’t hide from me, lover,” his voice brushed against your mind, and you shivered.

Your fist connected to his chest, but he was completely unmovable, and you knew that the only way to break the contact was to use your power. But—

“D-Don’t touch me,” you choked out, struggling weakly in his grasp.

Nines frigid fingers cupped your chin, foreheads still connected as he tilted your head upwards, your breaths mingling, “If I ever, even for a moment, felt like you didn’t want me to touch you, I would never lay a hand on you again,” he told you seriously. “But we cannot escape it, can we? Our connection, the way we burn for one another. And I warned you that no cage of their making can hold me.”

“You planned this.”

The barest hint of an ironic smile crossed his expression, “Of course I did. I wasn't going to allow this to continue any further. They will not use you against me again. What I did a month ago was to protect you. You just don’t know the truth yet.”

You bared your teeth at him, and pushed, “You’re lying.”

A breathless sound escaped his parted lips, and he chuckled lowly, gaze fervent as he stared at you, “Oh, look at you. Look how fiercely you burn with power. How can you even doubt we’re not the same?” he questioned, grabbing your hand and laying it against his chest—a painstakingly familiar gesture he had done so many times before. A way to connect, to feel, to—

Power cannot be measured.

Others lived in computations, rules and limitations.

Neither of you have ever fit into any tangible bracket of control.

You didn't know where he ended and you began as your powers mingled and raged; hot and cold, breaking and mending as the room creaked around you.

Infinite and terrible was the joining of you and him, of your souls mending and burning together.

“I need to show you the truth,” his voice barely registered, “I did not teach you everything I know.”

And then it was no longer a perfect dance but a head dive into an abyss.

It was not painful; but it was a horrendous, choking, clawing sensation of power being fused into you.

“It’s called Overflow,” he murmured gently, pressing a kiss against your cheek while white danced in your vision. “It will not hurt you because we are alike. You can take my power without being killed by it. Just another proof of us being made for each other. However I cannot show you the truth here.”

“No, stop, Nines—”

Too much/too much/toomuch

He was everywhere all at once, drowning you in the cold comfort of his power.

“Goodnight, lover.”

Lips pressed against your forehead, and you felt a distinct stab through your mind before you tipped towards oblivion willingly.

His mind brushed against yours one last time, as his soothing, taunting words buried themselves deep.

“Sweet dreams (Name).”  

#did i ever mention the fact that i LOVE writing dialog #I LOVE WRITING DIALOG #this entire fic is basically a very long conversation so sorry if you found this boring and not terribly exciting?? #i love writing dialog for characters especially when they have dynamics like this #connor rk900 #dbh rk900 #dbh connor rk900 #dbh connor rk900 x reader #rk900 x reader #rk900 #detroit become human #detroit become human x reader #detroit become human fic #detroit: bh #detroit connor #dbh connor #dbh fanfic #dbh connor x reader #dbh #villain x hero #villain x reader #writers on tumblr #dbh fanfiction #brownie point if anyone can tell me what scene i was inspired by when i wrote this #there's hints!!! #hero/villain au

[ask-ephraelrhiannon]

Ephrael vs Ishabella Playlist

A playlist entirely dedicated to the relationship between Ephrael and her arch-rival, @ask-rune-priest-ulfric‘s Inquisitor-turned-Slaaneshi daemon Ishabella. I adore their relationship, so now this playlist exists. Listen here.

Pt 1: Ephrael

Early Sunsets Over Monroeville//My Chemical Romance-  But would anything matter, if you’re already dead? And should I be shocked now, by the last thing you said?

Goodnight, Travel Well//The Killers- Every time you fall and every time you try, every foolish dream and every compromise, every word you spoke and everything you said, everything you left me rambles in my head

I’ve Got All This Ringing in my Ears//Fall Out Boy- The truth hurts worse than anything I could bring myself to do to you

Leave me//Imagine Dragons- Now, if this is the time, if this is the place, if you are the one to give disgrace a name then so be it... you’ve got me holding onto nothing, but nothing’s all I’ve got

Choices//To Kill a King- And I had the same choices as you do, as you do, and when you fall, you fall like I knew you would

The Calling//The Killers- Follow the sun out of the night, brother, just lean into the light, you wanna be sure I’ll give you sight, brother just lean into the light

Diamonds and Waste//Bastille (Cover)- You know that anyone will bite the bait, cause they’re all wanting more and more of the taste of your diamonds and waste, what a waste

Soundtrack Song//The Lumineers- Cowards and heroes feel the same as you and me, it’s real, but some will run and others persevere, victory is in the fight

Losing Touch//The Killers- How you got lost but you made your way back home, you went and sold your soul, an allegiance dead and gone

Work This Body//Walk the Moon- Yeah, I’m a workaholic and I swear, I swear, one day I will beat you fair and square 

Pt 2: Ishabella

It’s Not A Fashion Statement//My Chemical Romance- The hole you put me in wasn’t deep enough, and I’m climbing out right now, you’re running out of places to hide from me. When you go, just know that I will remember you

Broken Crown//Mumford & Sons- Your values are all shot, but oh, my heart was flawed, I knew my weakness, so hold my hand, consign me not to darkness

Peacemaker//Green Day- Well, death to the girl at the end of the serenade. Vendetta, sweet vendetta, this beretta of the night, this fire, and the desire, shots ringing out on a holy parasite

Under a Dome//Of Monsters and Men- I’m taking over my own throne, I’m holding my heart and it’s overgrown... it’s over now, and I’m falling, and I’m falling, so fuck all the times I’ve fallen

Time to Dance//Panic! at the Disco- Have some composure, where is your posture? Oh no, no, you’re pulling the trigger, pulling the trigger all wrong... give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention

Lights Go Down//IDKHOW- It’s curtains for you, jump the back of the queue, and they’ll break our necks like we do when the lights go down

Horseshoes and Handgrenades//Green Day- Everything you employ was meant for me to destroy to the ground now, so don’t you fuck me around, I’m gonna shoot you down

Karma//MARINA- You carried on and on without a doubt, doubt, doubt, so vicious, this cycle, when you live in sweet denial, but you’ll be sorry when you’re coming down, down, down

The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty//Panic! at the Disco- Hey holy roller, if you wanna start a fight, you better throw the first punch, make it a good one

Salt and the Sea//The Lumineers- I’ll let the darkness swallow me whole, I need to find you, need you to know, I’ll be your friend in the daylight again, there we will be like an old enemy

Pt 3: The Feeling is Mutual

Another Daydream//Kongos- Ten thousand people disappeared tonight, another daydream with no end in sight

Two Evils//Bastille- There are two ways to skin tonight, let’s see whose road gets there faster? This is a game, no wrongs, no rights, only a winner and a loser

I Gave You All//Mumford & Sons- And how can you say that your truth is better than ours?

Avalanche//Walk the Moon- It’s do or die, what you gonna choose? You got a look in your eyes, I knew you in a past life

Remember Me//Kongos- I know that you’re afraid to meet me, you try to take the long way home, but rest your mind, you can’t defeat me, so carry on

Choke//IDKHOW- Stop, drop, and drag me into place, and lock the fire escapes, I’ll break your pretty face

Party Poison//My Chemical Romance- Ain’t a preacher gonna save me now, grab a seat, I’m gonna show you how... this ain’t a party, get off the dance floor, you wanna get down? Here comes the gang war

Look at Me//Kongos- Now the time has come for a yea or a nay, like the moon and the sun, each gets half the day, day and night we play this game, with the dark and the light, the push and the pull

My Strange Addiction//Billie Eilish- Bad, bad news, one of us is gonna lose, I’m the powder, you’re the fuse

The Wolf//Siames- I’m out of my head and my heart and my mind, cause you can run but you can’t hide, I’m gonna make you mine

#ishabella #ephrael #playlist

[katedrakeohd]

The Royal Honor 👑

Chapter Three

A ‘The Royal Heir’ Fanfiction

A repost for @ritachacha 😁

______________________________

Royal Affairs

As soon as they entered the villa Kate turned on Drake.

“Ok Drake, what's going on? Since when are you, Mr. ‘l despise anything stuffy and Noble’ suddenly ready to have your future child on the freaking throne?”

“When the King asks you to do him a favor it would be impolite to say no.” he replies.

Kate scoffs at his cookie cutter, matter of fact answer, “Oh please, he's not asking you for one of your fucking french fries, this is our child we're talking about.”

Drake frowns at her comparing the request to something so trivial.

“It’s complicated Ok! ..He's under pressure from the Royal Council, the Cordonian people, and his closest rivals to prove he's worthy of the crown. He went through the trouble of doing a whole damned engagement tour and then the Unity Tour, and our wedding and he's still no further ahead.” Drake argues, pacing the room.

“No kidding, he poured everything into bringing the Duchies together and for what? Our wedding almost didn't happen. Well our second wedding anyway. No wonder he's looking at us for his heir. Anton may have been caught, but the damage has been done. The orchards have been burned, his father is dead and whatever corrupt political alliances he had are gone with him. He's a King without a Queen, and thus a King without an heir. And a King without an heir is doomed to have a very short time on the throne.” Kate says.

“Exactly, he's poured so much into our future. The Duchy, the wedding, this honeymoon, we owe him for everything. That's why I was so honored for him to ask us for an heir. Granted it's really bad timing to ask us during our honeymoon, but with all the pressure he's under he didn't have much choice.” Drake insists, hoping she'll see his point.

“But he's the King, and he's still young. There are other women he could court to be his Queen. Can't he change the rules to give himself more time?” Kate argues.

“Well that's the thing he's already had a taste of what a political marriage would be like with his engagement to Madeleine. And he doesn't want to do that again. He wants to marry for love, like we did. But there's another complication to that happening.”

Kate settles down on the sofa, hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest and drawing up her knees. “What kind of complication?”

Drake sits down next to her on the sofa, pulling her legs across his lap, rubbing his hand up and down her shins. “Well you know how Nicholas and I have been really good friends for a really long time.”

“Yes, I know. It's almost a little weird how close you two are. And I've lived with the Beaumont brothers, so I've seen all kinds of weird.” Kate says with a grin, enjoying Drake's warm hands on her skin.

“Well, what if he and I were a little more than friends once upon a time.” Drake's hand stops stroking her leg and he runs his hand through his hair. He steals a quick glance at Kate and then quickly looks away, a blush forming on his cheeks.

Kate's body tenses, she looks at Drake with a mixture of shock and disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘More than friends’ .. you're not saying that you and the King were….lovers? As in gay?”

When Drake places his hand back on her knee she recoils, drawing her legs out of his reach. “No! Don't touch me.”

Drake gets up from the sofa. The hurt and mistrust in her eyes cutting him deeply, he never wanted her to find out this way. Or at all. He paces back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to explain. Kate hugs the pillow to herself again. Drawing up her knees. “No Kate, there's more to it than that. I'm not gay, he is.”

“But he can't be. I danced with him, kissed him… I…we..” she stammers, blushing as she remembered the few intimate moments she'd shared with Nicholas.

“Did you sleep with him?” Drake asks quietly, already knowing the answer.

“Well no, but that night in Lythikos early in the social season we shared a hot tub.” Kate admits, remembering that she'd spent part of the evening with Drake as well.

Drake places his hands on his hips, frowning at her. The disappointment on his face would have been more effective had he been wearing more than just a pair of shorts. Kate looked at him critically trying to imagine ‘gay' Drake, but couldn't wrap her mind around it.

“So after we’d shared drinks in Olivia's wine cellar you went to his room?”

“Well yes, he invited me. That's what makes this gay argument hard for me to accept.” Kate says with a little laugh, she wasn't sure if Drake was jealous or mad that she'd gone to another man's room that night.

“The whole social season was a lie, a carefully executed plan to force Nicholas to marry someone when he really didn't want to. His brother the playboy had abdicated his position as heir, leaving Constantine a less than desirable son as his only option.”

“But he plays the part so well. The Prince Charming act was flawless. It was all pretend?” Kate frowns with disbelief.

“He's been coached since a young age to hide his feelings. To only portray the stoic courtly diplomatic façade. But when the young girls at court came to the Palace he was more interested in playing with me and Maxwell than with them. The only exception being Olivia. But she was all bluster and flame, more one of the boys than a girly princess like my sister was.”

Drake sits down on the sofa again, with Kate keeping her distance. She was waiting to hear more about Drake and Nicholas’ relationship.

“Nicholas and I had been close as kids, and at first Constantine hadn't paid much attention to it. We'd have sleepovers that seemed innocent enough. But as we grew older and I became more interested in girls, Nicholas wasn't. I started to realize he was more interested in me.”

“So what happened between you two? Did you..did you sleep with him? Did sex happen?” She asked, bracing herself for the answers she didn't want to hear.

Drake feels uncomfortable under her scrutiny, knowing she's going to judge him no matter what he says. “There was no sex, that's where I had drawn the line. We..kissed or cuddled and the occasional touching happened. I wasn’t attracted to him in that way, but I didn't push him away though. Didn't want to hurt him. I saw myself as a safe way for him to explore his sexuality without feeling ashamed of it. I'm breaking a huge promise to him by talking about this to you.”

“Drake, I don't know what to say. That's so sad. You love him don't you.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Drake finally admits it to himself and to Kate. “I do.”

“And he really loves you too, doesn't he? “He's still in love with you after all of these years.” Kate asks quietly.

Drake nods.

Kate struggles to process what's she's learned about Nicholas and about the man she loves, the man she married. She blinks and then frowns.

“But if he's gay, why would he propose to me?” Kate asks.

“Well it's sort of complicated, I know you hate that word by now. Nicholas and I had been having sleepovers since childhood, but it wasn't until we got caught in bed together as teenagers that it set off warning bells. “

“Who found you? Was it Bastien?” she says quietly.

Drake nods, “Yeah, and it was his responsibility to report back to the King. After that Nicholas and I weren't allowed to be alone together. When high school ended I spent the summer in Texas with my Mom, looking at various colleges and working at the family ranch. When I came back to Cordonia at the end of the summer it was like Nicholas was a whole other person. Any kind of physical relationship between us was over. He barely looked at me, and when he did his eyes always seemed to be full of pain and regret. “

Kate moves over closer to Drake on the sofa, taking his hand in hers. Knowing this was his story to tell and that it had to be difficult for him. She didn't want to pry, just sat and waited for him to continue. He squeezes her hand back in silent thanks.

Sucking in a deep breath he lets it out in a rush, his knee shaking nervously.

“Like I said Nicholas played the game well, he had to. The future of Cordonia was riding on it. Constantine had his hooks in him so bad, it was like Nicholas was his puppet. Bastien became more than just a guard, he was the King's spy. He believed that if he left Nicholas to find a wife on his own it would end in disaster. And if Nicholas had stayed with Madeleine it would have. He didn't think it would be possible to fall in love, being the type of man that he is, but with you he was wrong. You're different than all the other crown chasers with silver spoons in their mouths and a polite stick shoved up their asses.”

“If you weren't allowed to be alone with Nicholas, how do you know so much about him?” Kate asks, rubbing her thumb against his hand.

“It wasn't until after his father died that he felt comfortable enough to open up to me about what was going on. But by then it was too late for him and I, because I had proposed to you and therefore made my choice. He explained how he had fallen in love with you and had seen you as his one chance at marrying for love. He felt that as a modern, American woman that you'd be more accepting of who he is and that between the two of you that you could make a marriage work.”

Kate scoffs at Nicholas’ logic, “But I wasn't in love with him Drake, I'm in love with you. That's why I turned him down.”

Drake nods, bringing they're joined hands up to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “Yes I know, that's where this Royal Heir comes in. He loves us both for different reasons, and there's nobody else he trusts more to supply his next in line. He knows that between us we'll give the child the best upbringing. To raise a modern and progressive Monarch that will give Cordonia its brightest future.”

Kate looks down at their joined hands, then places her other hand on her belly. “Wow, nothing like putting a lot of pressure and responsibility on us and your tiny shoulders little apple seed.”

Drake chuckles softly, leaning over to kiss her on the temple. “I like that our ’little apple seed'.

Kate bites her lip, still unsure. “That's just it Drake. What if I don't want our baby to be the next leader of Cordonia? You've seen first hand what growing up in the royal court is like. I want our child to have the most normal upbringing they can. With camping trips, eating s'mores by the campfire, going to the beach, playing carefree with friends. What kind of life can our son or daughter have with the anchor of a future crown around their neck? To be constantly in the public eye, and judged for everything they do?”

Drake wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in for another kiss. “No matter what we'll make sure this child is going to be ours first, so we can love, nurture and raise them right. I intend to keep them as safe and as much out of the public eye as possible. I know it won't be easy, but with Nicholas’ help we'll manage.”

Kate stiffens, “I don't want his help. I want him to have absolutely zero input into how I raise my child. Courtly protocol be damned. Especially if it means having a child that turns out like Madeleine, Neville, Tariq or whatever.”

With a sigh Drake rubs his forehead, “No I meant he could help with security. And with keeping our child safe from the press.”

Getting up from the sofa, Kate folds her arms and is determined to stand her ground. She was still trying to find the honor in letting the King appoint their future child as his anything. She understood Nicholas’ reasons, and Drake's reasons but was still trying to find a reason for her to agree to anything.

“I've seen first hand how ruthless and greedy the press can be when they want a story, or how they can invent stories that..that hurt people.” Kate stammers, her anger and indignation dissolving into tears.

Drake jumps up from the sofa, trying to pull her into his arms, but Kate just pushes him away. “No don't, I'm too pissed off to be pampered. Nicholas is under pressure to supply an heir? He can find someone else. My womb is not for rent damn it.”

“But Kate…” Drake pleads, trying to reach for her again.

“But no. When we got married I pledged my body and soul to you Drake. To you. Granting you sole permission to create a child with me and for my body to carry and nurture it with all the love that you and I brought together. Our child Drake. What happens if we can only have one child? Or for heaven's sake if we were blessed to have two? Would he want that child too as a spare?”

“Kate..” Drake's face creases with sadness and he looks down with a sigh. He knew he'd exhausted his argument, and didn't know how to reply.

“Look I get it that he's done so much for us. And I'm grateful to him and the Beaumont's for everything they've done. But I don't think I could handle the media and everyone else being that far into our personal business. As soon as we agree to this we're going to have zero privacy.”

Drake sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well that's the thing. Nicholas approached me a week before we left for our honeymoon. And I already told him we'd do it. While we've been away they already started working on our nursery back at Valtoria.”

“You what?! How dare you..” Kate goes pale with shock, and then her eyes go dark with rage. Without thinking twice about it she slaps Drake hard on the cheek.

He staggers backward a step and then raises his hand to his hot, stinging face. His eyes water as he looks at her again. “I..I guess I deserved that. I'm sorry Kate. I really am.”

“How dare you make this decision for me, for us, based on your own twisted sense of loyalty? I suppose Nicholas coming to us to ask this morning was just a formality. He doesn't give a damn if I say no, because it's already arranged. He assumes I'm pregnant, and can't wait to tell the press his god damned heir is on the way.”

Drake nods. “Yeah pretty much, there's going to be a press conference waiting for us back in Valtoria. And after we get settled in and meet with the Royal Council, you and I have a doctor's appointment.”

“So I'm just supposed to smile graciously and go along with this farce? As if it isn't batshit crazy? As if I'm going to wear a gopro camera on my thigh that's pointed right at my crotch so everyone can see what comes or doesn't come out of it.” She says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her rage still simmering under the surface.

Drake frowns at her, throwing up his hands in disgust, “Seriously Kate, that's ridiculous. That's not how it will be at all.”

“Oh really? Just you wait. We'll be all over the tabloids within a week. And if I dare refuse to let my unborn child become the heir I'll be roasted and torn apart. As if becoming the newly minted Duke and Duchess hasn't already made us celebrities, our newborn is going to be the most targeted person in the country. I don't know how I'm going to survive this. How we're going to survive this.” Her fists clenched in anger she looks at something to throw at him.

Drake's finally had enough, he's been slapped and he didn't want to see Kate start flipping over tables and throwing things at him. His patience is gone.

“What would you have me do? His back is to the wall and the vultures are circling. He all but begged me to help him out. I couldn't say no.” he argues, his voice rising.

Kate crosses her arms, sizing Drake up with his bare chest heaving, his eyes dark with passion, wearing nothing but shorts. Damn he was sexy when he was fired up, but right now she definitely wasn't in the mood. She feels a sleazy thought enter her mind, knowing it was a low blow, but she couldn't help it. When he went behind her back and agreed to this bullshit he had crossed a line. Walking up to Drake with a smile on her face she kneels down on the floor in front of him and looks up. Her smile quickly replaced by a look of disgust,

“Oh he begged? Was he on his knees like this when he did it? Did he look up at you with hunger in his eyes? Did he offer to suck your godamned dick if you said yes?”

Drake backs away from her in horror, feeling dirty and violated by her accusation.

“What? No! Of course not. Jesus Kate. What's gotten into you?”

Kate gets up off the floor, grabbing a throw pillow off the sofa and hurling it at his head. He ducks and scowls at her, “Hey! Stop it.”

Kate scoffs, with derision. “Pfft, I know what's not getting into me tonight is you! You can sleep on the fucking sofa! Oh and enjoy your damned dinner with Nicholas, I won't be there.”

Turning on her heel she storms into the bedroom and slams the door.

#drakewalker #choices #long post

[genogenocrazycatman]

Chicky - Prompto x OFC

Chicky [Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.Net]

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Original Female Character

“I’m not giving birth to a chocobo!”

***

I never thought that I would sing at the royal wedding. At first it was simple, because I had no connection to Lady Lunafreya or Prince Noctis. I was just a commoner, but then Insomnia fell, the prince came to Altissia and Leviathan was unleashed. The oracle was killed, and I having proven myself an asset joined Noctis and the others on their journey to take back what was theirs. Still with no bride, I never thought that I was going to sing at the royal wedding. Then the world went dark, and the wedding was just a distant memory.

Fortunately, Noct brought back the light, and the gods brought back both him and Lunafreya, and with both of them came work (lots and lots of work) and a wedding. I was definitely more excited about the wedding.

The harpist began to delicately pull the strings of his instrument, the gentle sound starting the process.

The couple made their way to the dance floor, bowing and curtseying to each other as had been the tradition for generations, before beginning their dance, just as I sang the first note.

“When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

No I won't be afraid

Oh, I won't be afraid

Just as long as you stand, stand by me”

Oh Noctis. He had been dreading this dance. He’d dreaded quite a bit about the wedding actually. Feeling that it was wrong to have such an event, when much of the kingdom still needed to recover. Fortunately the boys were able to make him see that this was exactly what everyone needed, an event to show that it was over that we truly could return to normal, something that would make the people feel good.

“So darling, darling

Stand by me, oh stand by me

Oh stand, stand by me

Stand by me”

He and Lunafreya moved with such grace and dignity around the dance floor. It was truly a sight to behold.

Both looked impeccable in their wedding garb. The way the light hit them, accenting the gold and stones, as well as the airiness of the new queen’s dress made them seem more like spirits than humans, like at any second they could fizzle out. It was like a dream that would leave us all in awe of even after we woke up.

“If the sky that we look upon

Should tumble and fall

Or the mountain should crumble to the sea

I won't cry, I won't cry

No, I won't shed a tear

Just as long as you stand, stand by me

“And darling, darling

Stand by me, oh stand by me

Oh stand now, stand by me

Stand by me”

I took the instrumental section of the song to take a quick glance around the room, taking in everything. I had no clue, who most of these people were.

Gladio of course stood above most of the crowd, his arms wrapped around his missus’s, who he was gazing lovingly at.

Ignis was still at his seat, but I could see the small smile that was gracing his features.

Prompto was standing on top of something that I was sure Ignis would yell at him for later, camera trained on the pair dancing.  

I smiled, and almost teared up, because somehow we all made it.

The music swelled and I rejoined.

“Darling, darling

Stand by me, oh stand by me

Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me

Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me

Oh stand by me, won't you stand now, oh, stand

Stand by me

“Darling, darling

Stand by me, oh stand by me

Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me

Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me

Oh stand by me, won't you stand now, oh, stand

Stand by me”

The song came to a close and the couple’s movements came to a halt. We all applauded the two.

I was quickly handed a flute of champagne. I waited until the cheers calmed down, before catching everyone’s attention and introducing myself.  

“It was years ago in Altissia that I first met, King Noctis. There were rumors that he was coming to Altissia. A less than favorable character had put a price on his head and some of my former associates had planned to collect, so I spent the day chasing them around, beating some respect for the Lucian crown into them. He busted me on the last one. At first I was amazed. He was so strong, hiding his pain with a bratty emo kid act. Then I realized that he was just a whiny emo brat.” Noct rolled his eyes, but chuckled along with the rest of the crowd. “That amazement never left. I was given the privilege of joining our king and his companions, and to help bring peace back to the world. I have watched him fight through hardship and heartbreak. He is a man willing to give up everything to protect what matters most. I am proud to call you my king, and my friend. I wish you, your wife, your marriage and your kingdom much love, happiness and prosperity in the years to come.” I raised the glass. “To King Noctis and Queen Lunafreya!”

The crowd repeated my words, raising their glasses.

I put mine to my lip, tipping it, but never letting the liquid hit my tongue. I placed the glass on one of the server’s trays as I exited. As I rejoined the crowd I was greeted by a ridiculous number of people. I was compliment on my voice and my toast. I thanked them politely, never letting myself get caught up in a conversation for too long.

I needed air, between the lights and all of the people, it was getting to be a bit too much.

I stepped outside onto one of the balconies and took a deep breath.

“You know, you’re not supposed to upstage the best man,” Prompto said, coming up behind me. He rested his palms on the balcony ledge in front of me. He rested his chin on my shoulder.

I felt my heart flutter. It was amazing that even little stuff like that could still affect me.  I reached up and stroked the side of his face.

“I’m not supposed to upstage the bride or groom. The best man is fair game,” I said, spinning around and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“You couldn’t cut me a little slack?” he whined, bringing his hands to my waist.

“Nope,” I said, pecking him on the lips.

“I can’t stay mad at you,” he said, kissing me. “Especially, when you look so beautiful.”

The design of the gown was simple, no embroidery, sequins, or stones just flowing fabric that pooled on the floor. Yellow fabric, chocobo yellow fabric.

“I thought you’d like it. You’re not too bad yourself,” I replied, pulling at the lapels of his jacket.

“You know,” he started. “I was thinking with Noct back and on the throne and now married, and the daemons almost entirely wiped out, and the kingdom finally getting back on its feet, you and I could finally get around to planning that wedding.”

I lifted my hand to look at the ring on it. “I guess after seven years, it’s time that this guy got a partner,” I teased. “But I have some conditions.”

“Okay...”

“First, no rushing. We’re waiting a year and a half at least. We need time to plan, and I don’t want

my wedding day to be marked by Gladio making fun of me by saying ‘She’s huge.’”

“Why would he-”

I hadn’t meant for that slip, at least not yet. With all of his responsibilities as best man, I figured it would be best wait. His job for the most part was over, so now was as god of a time as any. Plus, it was getting harder and harder to keep the secret, partially, because there was no way to quietly throw up every morning, and partially, because I just really wanted to tell him.

I acted like he hadn’t asked me anything. “Plus, I think it would be nice if the little one was at the wedding.”

I ignored Prompto and continued talking. “Plus I think it would be nice if the little one could be in the wedding.”

“Little one?” he asked.

I just grinned at him, waiting for him to get it.

“Like a baby?”

I nodded.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked, face a mix of shock and disbelief.

“Yeah,” I said.

He was quiet for a moment seemingly stunned.

“Prom, you alri-“

He kissed me, catching me off guard.

“You’re pregnant,” he said, when we parted. He was grinning like an idiot and his eyes sparkled brighter than I had ever seen them sparkle before. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

“You are,” I confirmed.

He hugged me tight, then let me go, dropping so that his face was in front of my stomach, one hand on either side. “Hey, Little One,” he said.

He was so cute that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the little one couldn’t hear him yet.

“I’m gonna be your dad,” he continued. “I promise you that you are going to be the most loved baby of all time, I’m never going to let anything hurt you or your mommy, and you’ll never be alone, ever, no matter what-“

I chuckled. “Prom, you do realize that you have time right? You don’t have to promise the kid the world all in one shot.”

“Gotta make sure the little chickie knows that-“

“I’m not giving birth to a chocobo!” I said, flicking the side of Prom’s head.

His eyes lit up again, and I just knew what he was thinking.

I held my finger up to stop him from speaking. “We are not discussing chocobo riding yet.”

“But we will discuss it,” he said.

“Yes, we will discuss it,” I conceded. I ran my hand through his hair. “You know, we have a wedding reception to return to.”

“I’d rather stay out here with you two,” he said.

“I’d rather we stay out here too, but just think about it, once the reception’s over it’s just you me and Little One. Plus, I’m sure you’re missing a lot of really good shots.”

“You’re right,” he said, standing up. He pulled out his camera and then pulled me in close. “Say cheese.”

I smiled at his antics, letting him take the selfie, before shoving him to go back inside. “Let’s go. I wanna see them cut the cake.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder.  I wrapped mine around his waist and together we returned to the reception.

***

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#teroin writes #final fantasy xv #fanfiction #prompto argentum