#looks around. i think the loose wraps on the master sword are braided by link btw. no reason in particular [< lying] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jengajives · 3 years

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Did a collection of defining moments for my Tolkien OCs a while ago and finally decided to post it. Got eight or nine different characters here depending on how you count.

When Agzil gasped, it brought nothing but a cold ash into his lungs. His limbs trembled. Even on all fours, they nearly didn’t have the strength to support him. An elbow buckled and he fell to a forearm instead, forehead hitting the dusty ground, flooding his eyes, nose, and mouth, with the same thick, grey soot that covered everything here. “You talk back again, maggot, and the Lieutenant won’t be so friendly!” The orc captain had a strong Lugburz accent. She was from here- the land of endless burning and choking and death. Made Agzil’s head spin. He obviously had done something wrong in his non-reaction, though, because the whip cracked across his back again with a blinding white-hot agony that dropped him flat to the earth. “Enough!” he heard Mirci crying, so distant he almost didn’t comprehend the words. “You’ve taught him your lesson, now leave him!” “You keep out of this, tinkerer!” Agzil breathed a lungful of soot so foul it made his lungs spasm. He coughed into the ground, and slowly raised himself to his forearms again. He could go no further. “You keep sticking out your neck for Gundabad trash, one day it’s going to get sliced!” the captain roared in the background. “Master may like your big metal beasts, but they done us no good! Done disrupted our ranks, made us look like fools- don’t you know we’re at war?!” When a voice spoke out from behind them all, somehow Agzil instantly knew it was not the voice of an orc. The Dark Master had Men in his armies, too, but as far as Agzil knew, Men didn’t speak the Black Tongue, and this newcomer used it with a natural and melodic lilt. Agzil wished he knew Black Speech. The captain barked something back in the same tongue, then Mirci spoke up in Common. “It wasn’t his fault, sir. It was my machine what went wild. Drive gears broke and the whole thing-“ She stopped abruptly. Agzil imagined this newcomer raising a hand in the way he’d never known a real general to do, and the fear that shot through him was icy and cold at the idea that this might be the Lieutenant of the Tower himself. Something sharp and cold tucked beneath his chin. Agzil felt a trickle of blood down his throat, and he worked to raise his head with the only strength he had left. His eyes met the empty, blank pits in a mask of iron, regarding him expressionless and still. He’d never seen Garavdúr before, but he knew what the War Wolf was meant to look like, and so of course he knew what he was faced with now. His entire body trembled, waiting, staring. Garavdúr did not speak for a long moment. Finally he lifted his sword away from Agzil’s throat and let his head fall, muttering softly as he did. “Pathetic creatures...” The heavy metal footfalls moved away. Agzil laid in the dust for a while before he raised his face again. Mirci’s head was there, coated now in black blood and ash, a few feet from where her body lay crumpled and lifeless. Agzil put his forehead in the dust again. The captain gave him another taste of lashing when he did not try to get up.

Thet wished her mother would loosen up on her hand so she could get closer to the extremely hot molten metal, but unfortunately, it seemed her parents were somewhat responsible. They were traders and always had been, and Thet had seen so many different types of places- dwarf-keeps and hobbit villages and little towns of Men- but never before had she seen metal being worked. It was stunning. “What is it going to be?” she asked eagerly, reaching out a hand as if she could touch the white-hot goop. The smith paused and flipped back the heavy iron mask to reveal fair golden hair and a beard done into neatly capped braids. Her face was smeared with soot. “Going to be a knife someday, little one,” she said in a kind and rumbling voice. “Maybe you’ll use it to cut up your dinner.” “Could you make it a necklace?” Thet asked instead, very eager. They had one necklace in the family; her father wore it at all times and she would recognize the dull reddish gold anywhere. There was a garnet set into the middle. She really liked the chain- how delicate and yet sturdy every individual link was. It was fascinating every time her father let her play with it. The smith looked at her and gave a friendly smile, then reached down with a pair of heavy clamps and broke one small section of the metal off. She twisted it into a crude spiral, bent a thin loop over the top, and then plunged it into her bucket of water. There was a hiss and a rush of steam went up from the boiling liquid. Quick as could be, the smith pulled the spiral out with another clamp and laid it on her table. She produced a length of thin leather from a pile nearby and slipped its end through the loop, and tied it off to create a loose circle. She held the trinket out in a gloved hand. “You be careful now. It’s hot.” Thet squirmed free of her mother’s grip and scurried forward on her crutch. She wrapped her hand in a length of her cloak so she could accept the gift. It was tarnished and none too shiny; just a simple lump of steel crudely wrought into a pendant of sorts, but to Thet’s young eyes it was the most astonishing gift she had ever received. Something made just for her, only for her. Never had she had anything like it. She gripped it tight, pulled it close and looked up eagerly at the tall smith turning back to her work. “I’m going to be just like you someday!” The smith smiled and rustled a hand through the young dwarf’s hair. “You’ll need a good bit of beard before that, little one. Take good care of your necklace.” And Thet never let that shoddy piece of metalwork leave her side.

There was no silence after battle. Corien could only hear the groans of the dying. Flames crackling cruelly in the grass. Huff of beasts and screams carried far away from the walls of the burning city. Orcs that were not quite dead gurgled when he vaulted past. Men that weren’t quite dead begged and choked and sang in shaking, weepy voices. All of it was blurry. Smeared. Nothing real, no sound registering to his battle-worn ears. The only things he heard were the cries of bowstrings, and a clash of steel on steel and wood on stone and metal creaking and screaming and tearing apart. “Halbarad!” he screamed into the settling night. It was lost amidst the identical calls coming up from other places on the field. Other brothers and sisters found hewn, children lifeless, friend and lover ripped apart. Everyone was out to collect their dead. The ribbon tied to the haft of his spear fluttered lightly in the breeze that swept up from the river. It had been blue this morning. It was splattered now with black and scarlet, bruised and sickly beyond repair. He threw the spear aside when he at last saw the gleam of silver against a cloak of bloodstained grey. It took both hands to roll his brother face-up. The silver star Halbarad had always worn on his cloak was shiny and clean, but it was about the only thing left recognizable. Corien’s fingers trembled uncontrollably as he pushed the earth brown hair out of his brother’s face. Blood caught on his fingers and colored his palm scarlet, so he left red smears on the eyelids when he closed those familiar ice-grey eyes. “Halbarad,” he said. His voice sounded so steady it would have surprised him, had he actually believed it was he himself speaking. There was no way it could be. No way he could form the words. “Don’t.. Don’t be dead. You can’t be dead, I- I need you. Please don’t be-“ His eyes travelled slowly to the gashes that tore his brother from jaw to belly and the words broke on a sob. He thought he might have screamed, but so many others were doing the same thing that he couldn’t pick his own voice out from the roar.

Mosco sat listening to the bees. His back rested against the thick grey bark, and his legs were up on a bough, and around his head bees danced from flower to flower in an endless choreographed routine. They were right smart, bees. His ma always said so. They talked back and forth, spoke in their own special language of waltz. Ma used to say that the Greenhands were honey farmers because they had dancing in their blood, and that they and the bees were one and the same. He’d fallen asleep tucked into the branches of his peach tree. The sun was growing low, and at this rate he’d miss his own nineteenth birthday party, but the woods of the Southfarthing were beautiful at sunset in the summer, and he thought he might go for a walk. The grass felt good on his bare feet, if a little cool. His hair hadn’t grown in all proper yet, so sometimes his toes got chilly and he had to embarrass himself wearing socks, but he just chalked that up to his being a “late bloomer,” as Ma put it. He was just out of season. He’d ripen up someday. The birches that made up the part of the forest closest to the farm soon gave way to wrinkly old pines with boughs hanging heavy and dark over their beds of needles. Mosco hummed a walking song, not at all caring for a track to follow, but wandering aimlessly and contemplating his own infinite nineteen-year-old wisdom. The smell of rot stopped him just before he put his foot into it. Beneath the overhanging crypt of the pines, a deer lay dead. Its skin was drawn thin over bones that poked halfway through, and underneath he could see a red-yellow ooze that leaked out into the forest floor. This, he guessed, was what smelled so foul and attracted the bugs. Beetles crawled in and out of the dead animal’s empty eye sockets and nostrils. Worms pitted the parts of its muscle still intact. Mosco saw eggs peppering the ragged hide like white trees in a minuscule forest. His family didn’t eat much meat. They never slaughtered it themselves if they did. He couldn’t think of a time he’d seen a real dead thing. When he got home, he declined the offer of birthday cake and went right to bed, and dreamt of squirming things that burrowed down to lay their eggs in pits beneath his flesh.

Cypress knelt next to the crime scene and tried very hard not to cry. Stuff like this didn’t happen in the Shire. It wasn’t meant to happen. A whole crowd of people looked at her with big, terrified eyes, expecting her to lead them. To tell them what to do in this moment because she was the mayor and she was meant to know. Blood had never been spilled like this. Woodhall’s history was a peaceful one and nothing like this had ever happened before. She looked at the assembled group. It was hard to seem like she wasn’t completely out of her depth, because her voice squeaked rather loudly. “We... We should bury them, yes?” At once the hobbits broke into cries and murmurs that all laid over each other into a horrific cacophony. “They took half the year’s stock!” “How did they get past the borders?” “Why didn’t we know they were coming?” “Are we going to get my honey back?” The last voice was that of Mosco Greenhand, who looked as devastated as the rest, but with an air of determination in his eyes. Cypress raised her hands to quiet the townspeople. “Look, I know this is a lot to process and we can’t understand it yet. But the first thing we ought to do is give these three brave souls who gave their lives for the good of Woodhall a proper burial, yes?” A general murmur of agreement. Cypress looked down at the fair faces she had known, the throats and bellies split by goblin blades, and it made her feel desperately ill. This horror could not be left unpunished.

Sometimes, when Astorrel went to sleep, she had a nightmare. It was always the same one, and it always came on when she decided to rest like other creatures did and actually close her eyes for hours. So, naturally, she avoided doing so. Rested on her feet and never let her guard down while she did it. She never had liked sleeping anyway. Never had any reason to do so for the better part of an age. Lina changed things, though. Lina liked it when Astorrel was there to share her night and her dawn, sleeping and waking, both together as equals. And of course, Astorrel liked to be there when Lina wanted her, and she liked to be close to her beloved, so of course whenever she could she shared Lina’s bed. Made the nightmares come back though. In the deepest hours of the night, when Lina was still and the moonlight slanted in through the window to paint her brown skin silver, Astorrel would lie stiff with her eyes open and nonseeing, and she’d tremble. She knew that in the dream- at least, in parts of it- she was her father. She carried Mirlach, but the blade was younger and the gem hadn’t yet fallen from its hilt. The whole sword always seemed darkened and scarlet-stained to her, and sometimes it dripped. She would hold the fire of the Silmaril and scream and scream as the agony of it withered her flesh away and the stench of rotting burn rose hotly to meet her nostrils, and she would see everything that Maedhros had done to hold the heirloom of his house in his hand, and how in the end, the reward of the quest became its doom. She would feel the irrepressible heat of smoldering, burning rock, and taste the earth as it pressed in, swallowed, took her and her cursed Silmaril into its throat and entombed them there forever. And the dream let her lie, suspended there in agony, the unseen gem scorching her hand to withered bone and the rock pressing in on her, for the entirety of the rest of the world. When she woke up with her hunting knife in her hand, dangerously close to Lina’s back, she decided abruptly she would not be doing this again. She left the cottage that morning before dawn. The next occasion she saw her Lina was on the day she died.

“You’re doing it again,” Léothain said, pulling Wulfrun’s focus away from the herders leading in a group of freshly adult horses to settle in the city. “You don’t really think she’s going to be there, right?” Wulfrun flushed and went back to sharpening her sword. Behind her, Léo plucked the last piece of laundry from the line and waltzed over with his basket against his hip. He stood next to Wulfrun, who sat silent on the stone step and watched young horses and rough herders pass the house by. They didn’t come into the city much; spent most of their time in the downs and the fields tending to their herds. Wulfrun had heard they were capital horsemen, and they guided the herds well enough through the winding lane of Edoras, riding without saddle on their sturdy, gleaming mounts. The horses they were leading in were meant to be ridden in battle. She could tell from the way they moved; so confident with strength and quiet grace, heads set proudly. She’d have one someday. Her fa made enough as a carpenter, but wasn’t much for travel, and they only had one horse for the three of them. The fat little thing was functional enough, but far from the mighty steed Wulfrun dreamed of. “You’re going to be really lucky if you see her again,” said Léo in an irritating sort of singsong voice. Wulfrun scowled at him. The sharpening stone swept over her worn blade again. Again. When most of the herd had passed, she finally found what she’d been seeking. At the rear of the group, riding a tall, shimmering palomino, came the girl. She looked just a little older than Wulfrun’s proud fifteen. Her face gleamed sunshine golden, and the dark hair that should have been dyed probably yellow was grown out and black down to the ears. She wore sturdy, battered clothes like the rest of the herders, but her eyes shone a brilliant black from her regal face. She saw Wulfrun looking and waved. Wulfrun wished she knew her name. She waved back.

Riston wasn’t his proper name. He didn’t know what it was. Could be Jett. Pierson. Randy. Likely he had a family name, too, though he had no guesses as to what it could be and all the Bree names he’d ever heard seemed bizarre and strangely food-centric. He didn’t want to have a real name. He just wanted to be Riston of the elves. Riston of the Havens. That was who he was. He sat on the big smooth rock on the west side of the harbor and plucked absently at his lute strings. Nothing sounded right. Nothing fit how it was supposed it. He was meant to leave in the morning. Head east and find who he actually was. He didn’t want to go. What’s a name matter? he thought as he crossed his legs and tried to let the waves paint a tempo into his mind. Anything he tried to make manifest withered away. I know who I am. This is my home. A discordant note. He tried to retune, very aggressively. Even if I find my family somehow, it’s not like my Westron is good enough to communicate with them. His fingers clenched. It’s not fair. They can’t just ask me to leave like I’m some guest who’s worn out his- One of lute strings snapped against his fingers and on a deep-gut impulse he slammed his fist into the instrument’s wooden body. A crunch, and he’d broken his most prized possession. Riston sat for a moment, slowing his breathing, taking stock of the fist-shaped hole splintering his delicate elf-made lute, the most beautiful thing he’d ever owned. Then he put his face in his hands and started to cry.

#jenga makes junk #fic #tolkien oc #agzil #garavdur #thet #corien #halbarad #mosco #cypress #astorrel #wulfrun #riston #tw gore #tw death #tw rot #i have so many ocs it is not fair

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middleearthpixie · 3 years

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Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Chapter Fifteen

Summary: In Laketown, Seren and Thorin risk taking the chance on each other, but then the dwarves come up with the idea of breaking into the Armory to steal weapons…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Seren (female OC, formerly of Dale)

Characters: The Company, Bard the Bowman, Tilda, Sigrid, and Bain, the denizens of Laketown

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,629

Additional Information: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! And feel free to reblog this if you've enjoyed it!

@tschrist1

The man’s name was Bard and he lived in Laketown and after a bit of a back and forth between him, Thorin, and Balin, the Lake-man agreed to smuggle them into Laketown.

Seren sat at the stern of his flat-bottomed barge, trying to ignore how cold she was, but it wasn’t easy. Frost layered her hair, made her cuffs crunchy, and no matter how tightly she wrapped her arms about herself, she shivered.

Thorin and Dwalin spoke quietly amongst themselves. Kili sat against his brother, pale and shivering as well. The others were quiet altogether.

The lake that gave Laketown its name might as well have been an ocean, as land seemed to be little more than a line on the horizon in any direction. In the distance, the town itself rose from the center of the lake, with canals instead of streets and the houses stretching skyward instead of outward.

“Everyone, we need more coins,” Balin said softly. “We are fifteen short.”

Seren winced, her entire body aching as she reached for the oilskin sack holding her money. It was the only personal possession she had left. Her sword and knives were in Mirkwood. Her original clothes had been left in Rivendell. Her sack vanished when the ponies bolted after their first battle with the orcs.

She unwound the leather thong cinching it and spilled the coins into her palm. Too tired to count any of it, she pushed up to her feet and walked over to dump the lot of it into Balin’s small palm. “Take it. I’ve no need for any of it.”

Balin looked up at her. “I cannot take all of this, Seren.” He glanced at the others. “Don’t be stingy, lads. Pay up.”

Seren tossed the oilskin into the lake. “I have no way to carry any of it now.”

Thorin came over to her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

He pressed his hand to her forehead and she smacked it away as he said, “You feel warm.”

“Impossible. I’m freezing.” She turned to go back to where she had been sitting.

He crossed the deck to crouch before her. “Seren.”

“I’m fine, Thorin. Just tired and banged up. Again. I just—“ She stopped, shaking her head as she stared off toward Laketown. Her thoughts were such tangled knot, she didn’t know which end was up or which loose end to pull.

“You just what?”

“I just rather wish I’d stayed in Bree. Or the Shire. Or anywhere else.” She glanced over at Bilbo, who seemed to be studying them, but then sharply turned away. “And I think he is jealous.”

Thorin glanced over toward the hobbit, then back at her. “I think you see something that isn’t there.”

She knew better, but didn’t feel much like arguing about it. “I feel as if everything has grown far more complicated.”

“Because they know you aren’t a lad?”

“That.” She met his gaze. “And us, I suppose.”

A hint of mischief came into his blue eyes. “I thought you said there was no us?”

A heavy sigh rose to her lips and she let her head all forward into her hands. “Maybe there is… I don’t know. Nothing is the way I thought it would be. No one was supposed to ever know I was a woman. It is so much easier when the world thinks me a boy.”

Thorin rose with a grunt and shifted to sit beside her. Glancing at the others, he said, “They are all fond of you, Seren. Every man in this company sees you as one of us.”

“But I’m not one of you. Even more so now.”

“You are. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

Without thinking, she let her head come to rest against his shoulder. It just felt natural, and he didn’t seem to mind it, either. Across from them, Gloín argued over giving up ten more coins, and she smiled as the others tried to convince him it would be in his best interest to do so.

Her eyes closed as Thorin pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “Your hair is frosty.”

“I’m turning into an icicle.”

“We’re almost there.”

She mangled a smile, then lifted her head at the sudden tension in his shoulder. He abruptly stood, but said nothing and as her curiosity got the better of her, she also rose.

In the distance, shrouded in mist, stood the Lonely Mountain. It was serene and majestic and she could feel what it meant to the dwarves around her as they all, one by one, caught sight of it and went silent. Gloín, without a word, handed over the rest of his money to Balin.

Seren glanced up at Thorin. His expression was unreadable, and for the first time, he looked like a king to her as the lake breeze wafted across the water to lift his dark hair away from his face as he simply gazed toward the mountain.

Her hand found its way into his, and she smiled as he linked his fingers with hers and gave a gentle squeeze. As his thumb grazed hers, she wished she could forget her secret and trust in what Amara had told her. But she couldn’t. If she confessed her true feelings for him, she would only hurt him when the time came to spill her secret. No, it was better this way. This way, the only one who ran the risk of getting hurt was her, and she was more comfortable with that than with being the one who hurt Thorin.

Bard broke the heavy silence. “We are almost at the gate. Into the barrels with you.”

She bit back a sigh as Thorin’s hand slipped from hers, and one by one, they all did as they were told. As the barge glided to a halt before the checkpoint, Seren fought the urge to poke her head up and see what was going on.

Not that it mattered. The answer to her question came in the form of hundreds of slimy, stinky codfish seemingly falling from the sky to fill each one of the barrels. She gagged at the stink and tried to ignore the slippery scales pasted up against her hands, her face, stuck in her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to will away the rising nausea. It’s only for a few minutes.

Above, through the fish, came the sound of Bard arguing with someone. Then, someone shouted, “Dump the barrels!” and her heart skipping a beat. Any moment, and they’d all be exposed and arrested and that meant another cell. Of course, if she was tossed into one with Bofur, he wouldn’t have to worry about Smaug.

No, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t really angry with him. It was almost a relief, actually, not having to pretend any longer. And perhaps Dwalin was right and her voice gave her away before Bofur did. To her, her voice sounded throaty and almost husky, like a boy’s before it changed. But it was entirely possible what she heard and what others heard were not the same voice.

Either way, it was moot. They all knew.

“Never mind,” came the same voice who’d ordered the barrels dumped, and Seren breathed a sigh of relief as she closed her eyes and let her forehead come to rest against the inside of her barrel. It stunk of fish. She would be eternally grateful to never, ever see the inside of another barrel ever again.

The barge resumed its glide through the now-calm canals, and when they finally stopped and Bard said, “Come along. Follow me and do not draw attention to yourselves,” she and the others all popped up from their barrels to send fish in all directions, to the bemusement of the dock-master.

Bard flipped him a gold piece. “You didn’t see any of this, Percy,” he said as he helped one dwarf after another from the barge. “And you can have the fish as well.”

“See any of what?” Percy asked, his gaze following each dwarf as he passed by.

From the corner of her eye, Seren saw how his gaze lingered on her, and she bit back a smile as Thorin’s hand caught hers and he gave a gentle tug as he said to Percy, “She’s with me.”

“Thorin!”

He glanced down at her. “What?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you are.”

“Since when?”

He didn’t reply, but tugged on her arm to pull her along as Bard led them through the alleys of Laketown. Although the populace of Laketown was that of Man, they all seemed to tower over both her and the dwarfs. Still, they moved through the crowded marketplace, attracting only bit of attention, and Thorin did not let go of her the entire time. He laced his fingers with hers, and every now and again, his thumb grazed hers.

Bard’s home was in the center of town and he stopped a block or so from there and said, “The Lake Master has eyes on my home at all times. There is only one way to get in without being seen.”

He turned to them. “Can you all swim?”

The thought of plunging into the icy lake water was not at all appealing to Seren, but she followed the others and gritted her teeth to keep them from shattering against one another as the dwarves swam silently along the canal toward the house at the center of town.

But that wasn’t the worst part about it.

“Da,” a tall blond girl called over her shoulder as Seren peered up at her, “why are there dwarves coming out of our toilet?”

Seren rolled her eyes as she climbed up and out into what served as the bathroom. Soaked to the skin, still aching, and now frozen besides, she said, “How do you do?”

“Sigrid,” Bard appeared down the narrow hallway, “take Seren and find her something warm and dry to wear. Your brother and I will tend to the others.”

To say Sigrid looked confused would be an understatement, but she nodded and said, “Come with me, then.”

Seren squelched along behind her, into a cozy little room at the rear of the tall house. As Sigrid closed the door behind them, she said, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in my brother’s clothes?”

“Miss Sigrid,” Seren offered up a slight smile, “I’m not a boy.”

The girl blushed and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry… I thought—“

“It’s all right. Everyone thought at first.” She grimaced as she tugged the leather thong holding her braid securely and unwound her hair to let it stream over her shoulders. “I would be more comfortable, but I doubt anything of his would fit me.”

“No. Most likely not. But, I’m afraid all I have are dresses.”

“If it’s dry, I’ll treasure it.”

Sigrid moved to a battered wardrobe and opened it. “Everything is dry and warm, I promise you that.”

Seren sighed as she fought to peel off her wet tunic and leggings and hose. Her boots left puddles on the floor, but there was nothing she could do about that. Sigrid passed her a towel without turning about and Seren went to work drying her body and then her hair as best she could.

When she emerged from the wardrobe, Sigrid had a fresh muslin chemise and a lovely, if slightly faded, gown of deep green velvet. “These are old, but I’ve take care with them and this sis my favorite dress. I thought you might like to wear something pretty.”

The girl’s generosity touched Seren, her throat tightened and her eyes stinging as they fell on the beautiful dress. It had been years since she’d last been in a dress, never mind something as pretty as this one. “Are you certain? It’s so pretty, I’d hate to ruin it.”

Sigrid set the clothes on the bed. “I’m positive. Please, take it.”

Seren shrugged into the chemise, the muslin cool and smooth against her skin, and Sigrid helped her into the dress. It was a bit snug in the bodice, but otherwise it fit perfectly and as she smoothed a hand along the velvet skirt, she looked up and said, “I cannot even begin to thank you.”

“There is no need for that. No one would mistake you for a boy now.”

Seren peered at her reflection in the small mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Her hair was mostly dry now, thick and tumbling over her shoulders in loose curls and for the first time in a lifetime, she felt like a girl.

“I have dry hose,” Sigrid dove into the wardrobe again, “but your feet look tiny. Perhaps a pair of Tilda’s slippers will fit you until your boots dry.”

She moved to the second wardrobe, the one Seren presumed belonged to her sister and a minute later, she had on a pair of pale green slippers that fit her almost as if they had been made for her.

“Sigrid?” Bard rapped gently on the door. “Is everything all right?”

She tugged open the door. “It’s fine, Da.”

Bard’s gaze fell on Seren and she didn’t miss how his back stiffened. “Miss Seren,” he said with a hint of a smile. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“The others won’t know what hit them.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she ventured down the narrow hallway, toward the great room, where the noise ceased as soon as she stepped into the room. Her cheeks grew warm as fourteen pairs of eyes slid in her direction and widened.

“Seren?” Bofur asked as if he might be mistaken.

“Stop. It’s still me. I’m just dry now.”

“Oh, lassie, you are more than that,” Dwalin said softly. “Wouldn’t you say, Thorin?”

She looked over at him, biting back a smile at the wide-eyed stare Thorin offered up in return. A slow smile lifted the corners of his lips as he said, “You look lovely, Seren.”

“Thank you. I feel like a sore thumb, however. And if I trip over this skirt, I will hurt the first one who laughs.”

“No one is going to laugh.” Thorin stepped up and to her surprise, caught both of her hands in his. “We should talk.”

“Not now,” she said, mindful of how the others all tried to inch closer and listen to their conversation. “Don’t you have weapons to procure? I’d like my steel back.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” he said, releasing her hands. “Your blades, our blades—they are all somewhere in Mirkwood.”

Dwalin looked over at Bard. “You promised us weapons. Where are they?”

Bard sighed softly. “I will bring them up. They will not be what you are used, to, though.”

While the others waited for him to return with weapons, Seren moved away from the room, toward the rear of the house. She peered out the window at Laketown spread out before them. Dale was just on the far side of the lake. Erebor just beyond it.

Their quest was almost at an end.

She peered over her shoulder at the others. Bard had returned with the promised weapons, which were in reality just modified boating tools, much to the dwarves’ dismay. They demanded weapons of iron, true weapons, only to be told the Lake Master confiscated all the weapons years earlier and kept them locked in the town armory.

Thorin and Balin huddled together and she couldn’t hear them, but from their serious expressions, she had the feeling at some point, dwarves were going to raid the armory. Somehow, she also had the feeling it would not end well for them.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Everybody Lives AU

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syilcawrites · 4 years

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archived memories | 7

Series: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Type: Multi-Chapter Main pairing: Zelink (Zelda and Link) Rated: T Tags/Genre: pre-calamity, fluff (middle chapters mostly), hurt (toward the last chapters lmao), pining Summary: bits and pieces of zelink scenes strewn in between the canon memories in botw! Snippet from Ch 7: “And it only grew larger when he tilted his head up at her and smiled—not those small smiles he usually gave her—but a smile that reached his eyes. She had never seen one of those before, and a selfish desire to keep that smile only to herself flourished alongside that fear.” A/N: Between Memory 9-10 Obligatory beach chapter! :^D

You can also read it on ao3! Click here to see all chapters on tumblr

chapter 7: sweet summer sea

She stared in awe at the view in front of her—the sun was at its highest point, and the swaying sea water reflected its illumination, casting a glowing shimmer over it. They were situated in a small gulf of water, with high cliffs on either side of them.

It had been a long time since Zelda stepped foot in sand, and the feeling of it under her toes reminded her that she was here, in the present.

“Breathtaking,” she exhaled as her eyes shifted from the sea to the sky. A gust of wind rushed toward them, lifting her ceremonial dress to reveal the waterproof one piece suit she had worn underneath. Zelda dropped her sandals from her hand and pressed her dress down, face red, and darted her eyes over to Link. He was conveniently crouched down, observing a seashell.

“Well, this is absolutely stunning,” Zelda declared, poking his thigh with her big toe. He jumped at her touch, startled.

“Uh, yeah! I thought you’d like it here. My family used to visit the beaches near Lurelin sometimes, since the water is really warm.” He snuck a glance at her. “This is between Aris Beach and Clarnet Coast. It’s a secret spot though, so don’t tell anyone.” He brought a finger to his lips, smiling cheekily at her.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Zelda said, laughing. She always found his smiles contagious. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been near Lurelin…” She had went once, with her parents. When her mother was still alive.

“You ready?” The sound of his voice prompted her to look over at him. He stood up and proceeded to take off his Champion’s tunic in one swift pull over his head. Her fingers twitched as she watched the muscles on his back move—she wanted to trace her fingers along them, but decided to be courteous instead and looked away.

“Ready for what exactly?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow up.

“We’re going in the water,” he declared. When she looked back at him, his trousers were replaced with shorts, and he faced the waves with his hands on his hips.

“We are?” Zelda asked, pointing at herself. He nodded enthusiastically, his blue eyes sparkling with happiness. Zelda frowned, glaring at the rippling water. She felt conflicted—the reason why she avoided the beach for so long was due to her growing dislike for water. But when she glanced back over to Link, his encouraging smile was hard to say no to.

“Well, maybe a little dip will be refreshing,” Zelda murmured in agreement, beginning to slip out of her ceremonial dress. She paused, halfway through pulling it off as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you going to watch me undress?”

He looked away, cheeks red. Zelda chuckled to herself at his amusing response. She neatly folded it and placed it next to a palm tree, then placed her sandals snuggly beside it.

Another gust of wind made her hair fly all over her face—one of the many downsides of having long hair was having to constantly tame it. Zelda had contemplated on cutting it every now and then, but could never muster up the courage to do so. She swatted at the stray strands that made its way into her mouth.

“I’ll join you in just a second… I’m going to braid my hair.” She shuffled around in her bag for a hair band, and when she pulled it out, Link tapped on her shoulder, holding his hand out.

“I can do it.”

“You can braid?” Zelda asked, surprised. She situated herself down on the sand, smiling in content when her skin hit the warm surface. Warm and comfortable, the two things she enjoyed. Link let out a hum of affirmation, sitting behind her, as he carefully combed her hair with his fingers.

“I have a younger sister, so I used to do her hair a lot.”

“You have a younger sister?” Zelda almost turned her head around, but stopped herself. “You’ve never mentioned her before! There’s always something new with you isn’t there?” Zelda smiled as he let out a small laugh. She focused on his fingers brushing through her hair, and on the sound of the waves that washed up onto the sandy shores. She had forgotten how pleasant the sea sounded.

Ever since she was unable to visit Hateno with him, he had promised to take her to secret spots around Hyrule that his father had taken him to, given that they were around the same area as their initial destination. She had looked forward to these various locations—although, that was before the overbearing pressure of obtaining the power.

No, the pressure was always there, but it had been suffocating her to hurry as of late. She had no time for such pleasantries, and decided to immerse herself in unlocking that damned sealing power to the point of exhaustion.

In the latest incident, she collapsed on horseback when they had gone on a trip to Rito Village to speak with Revali. Luckily he was riding beside her, and caught her before she could tumult head first into the rocky ground beneath them, but not without sustaining a couple of nasty scabs that still marked her legs. Link had fallen off of his own horse to dampen her fall and cushioned most of her damage. As he wrapped bandages around her legs, she tended to his head wounds, all while expressing her discomfort with him recklessly putting himself in harms way. It had been hard to keep the sternness in her voice when the pain from her legs kept causing her to grit her teeth though.

Zelda frowned upon that memory—if there was one thing she had to pick about him that she disliked, it would have to be how self-sacrficing he was.

After that incident, he seemed insistent that they take a small break to one of the many locations that he wanted to take her to, but reluctantly, she had always refused. Zelda did feel a little bad that she kept rejecting his proposal to take a short one-day trip, so she agreed to wear her bathing suit under her ceremonial dress for this trip, since he continuously mentioned that it would make her feel less uncomfortable while she was in the water when she prayed.

Of course she didn’t believe him—but she did it to humor him anyway.

And then this happened.

As she readied herself for another day of praying at the Spring of Courage, he lifted her onto the back of his horse, hopped on himself, and then sped off toward the coasts near Lurelin with her in tow.

Not that she hated being here. Rather, it was quite the opposite, but the stress was still there and the guilt for abandoning her responsibilities for the day were ever blooming in her chest.

“There, done,” Link exhaled with satisfaction.

Zelda turned around to face him, beaming. “Oh, we must take a picture!” She quickly grabbed the Sheikah Slate and pulled his arm toward her. Their heads lightly bumped against one another as she took a quick snap.

Link blinked rapidly afterwards, unprepared.

Zelda smiled down at the picture she had taken—her grinning and Link looking alarmed and confused. His expression reminded her of the first photo they had taken with the other Champions. She set the Sheikah Slate on top of her dress and felt around her hair.

“Why, you did quite a good job! I don’t feel much looseness in it.” Zelda pulled her braid over her shoulder, admiring it.

“There’s still enough time to go to the Spring instead, if you really want to.”

She caught that teasing tone of his—always lightly settled underneath the seriousness of his voice whenever he decided to poke some fun at her.

She scoffed and stood up, brushing bits of sand that had stuck to the back of her thighs.

“Come on, you need this too.”

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She didn’t go into the water immediately. Instead, she watched Link attempt to catch fish with his bare hands for the first hour near the rocks. Halfway through, with no progress, he decided to try to stab them with his Master Sword, as if it would increase his chance of success.

Which it didn’t, to her amusement.

After he had gotten out, she decided to try her own fair share of the beach experience.

She tentatively stuck her toes in first to check the temperature of the sea, but it was surprisingly warm—nothing like the times where she stood in the shallow waters of the Springs and prayed. It was refreshing and inviting.

It was… peaceful.

Zelda wiggled her toes, watching the wet sand slip in and out between them with the water for a moment.

She looked behind to wave at Link, who decided to settle on the sand, sprawled. He waved back lazily, his eyes fluttering close. She waded in a bit deeper, submerging her body, trying to at least enjoy the warm waters without thinking of her responsibilities. At least for a little bit, if anything.

When she sat down, the water was up to her neck, and it felt like she was getting hugged by a warm blanket. As she relaxed, her eyes wandered across the sea. It was clear enough that she could see the rocks beneath and the different variety of colorful sea life. Zelda hummed, moving her hands under the water to watch the ripples it created. She chuckled as some of the little fishes around her darted away, swimming deeper, toward the rocks.

As her gaze trailed their path, her eyes caught a glimpse of a shine off to the side—something sparkled under the waves, just in the distance. She simply had to wade a bit deeper. She glanced back to Link, who now had his arm over his eyes in an attempt to shield the sun out.

She debated whether or not to bring the Sheikah Slate, but found herself already treading toward the sparkle underneath the crystal blue sea.

Her heart flipped as she drew closer to it. More colorful groups of fishes dispersed when she neared, scattering all around her. She knew why she had been so drawn to it—the gem sparkled like the color of Link’s eyes, bright blue against the rough grayness of the other rocks.

An Aquamarine gem.

She figured a quick duck under would suffice—but of course things appeared closer than they seemed underwater, and she was under the surface for longer than she anticipated. A little overestimation didn’t hurt her though, as she retrieved the Aquamarine easily enough. She didn’t rise up to the surface immediately after picking it up. Instead, she admired how it looked under the rays of the sun in the water.

The sound of Link’s muffled voice calling her from above drew her out of her admiration. She took one last glance at the gem in her hand before grasping it tightly, wiggling her way back up to the surface.

“Hey! I’m right here!” Zelda shouted once she broke through, waving her arms in the air. She swam back, hardly that far from shore in the first place, and rung out her braid of water as she smiled brightly at him. “I just found this stunning—“

“Why’d you go out so far?” he asked, panic wrapping around his voice. Her smile faltered.

“Link, I went approximately fifteen feet away,” Zelda stated, bewildered. “It looked like you were sleeping so I didn’t wake you up.”

“Regardless of what I’m doing you should’ve told me.” He ran his hand fervently through his hair, sending sand flying everywhere. He looked confused and troubled, as if he had startled himself awake from his own nap. Zelda tightened her grip on the Aquamarine in her hand, frowning now.

“If you’re resting, I’m not going to wake you up to tell you I’m walking fifteen feet away from you. That’s absurd.”

He stayed silent, and she knew what it was—closing up, deciding to keep his mouth shut. He did that now and then, and it was something she had accepted, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to keep him from falling back into his old habits. She wanted him to speak for himself, for him to voice his own opinions without worrying. At least… with her.

“Link, you deserve as much rest as I do. You need to put yourself first—“

“Your safety is my priority,” he stated firmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The fact that he had said it so easily angered her.

“Well, you’re my priority!” Zelda declared back stubbornly, shoving the gem into his chest. He grabbed it, but didn’t tear his eyes away from her. “I found this because I thought of you and I thought you’d like it. A-And as Princess, I declare you to put yourself as your own priority!” Zelda sharply twisted around to trudge back into the water.

“Don’t follow me!” she demanded. His soft footsteps that had trekked behind after her paused. She let out a huff of irritation as she submerged herself once more into the sea, going far enough so that she could sit down with the water just below her mouth. She blew bubbles into the water in hopes to blow off some steam, but the tempered anger didn’t linger very long anway. She kept glancing over her shoulder at him. He sat in the sand, looking sullen and glum. She couldn’t find it in herself to stay annoyed for too long.

After a short while she waved her hand at him, letting him know that he could come if he wanted to.

He had to sit a little ways behind her if he didn’t want the water to cover his nose. They sat there quietly for a couple minutes, simply listening to the sounds of the coastline.

“It’s pretty, thanks,” he said, breaking the silence. She nodded in response.

“I know it’s pretty, you’re welcome.” Zelda continued to blow bubbles into the water, her arms still crossed.

Eventually she scooted back and stopped once her back hit him. She drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them.

“Link. Did you ever hate me?”

Her question startled him—she could feel him shift as the water around them rippled.

“Why would I hate you?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“Because I was nothing but rude to you at first,” Zelda stated matter of factly. “I don’t know what compels you to be so kind. Ever since the beginning you’ve been nothing but that.”

She patiently waited for a response, but his extended silence began to unnerve her. Soon, the little voices of doubt began creeping up into her thoughts: he must’ve been nice to her because he had to—how could he be rude to her, if she was the princess?

“The world is already cruel to you, so I thought you’ve had enough of that,” he said quietly. Her chiding thoughts halted shortly after, fading. Not even the voice of doubt could compete against his words, because if there was one thing Zelda was sure of, it was his honesty.

They sat there until their fingers grew wrinkled and pruny before she decided to finally look at him.

“I know you’re just concerned about me, but getting agitated over such a thing was quite unnecessary you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” Link rubbed the back of his neck.

“But I do appreciate your concern,” she stated, standing up. She turned around and held out a hand to him. He didn’t grab on immediately and glanced up at her first, hesitating. Zelda had a ghost of a smile on her lips, assuring him that she was okay. But there was still an unresolved tension under her skin that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

He gripped her wrist as he pulled himself up. It took all of Zelda’s strength not to topple over, but she felt slightly proud for not falling on top of him this time. Their weekly training sessions were definitely paying off.

“I was ready for you to fall into my open arms,” he said with a playful lilt of his voice.

“I’m sure you would’ve loved that just so you could have something else to make fun of me for,” Zelda replied back with a scoff. The chill of the wind made her shiver, and they walked back to the shores, with Zelda rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Link was quick to grab some towels that he left on some nearby rocks and wrapped it around her shoulders before he did the same to himself.

The tension under her skin snapped.

“See—that’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Zelda exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him.

He blinked, confused.

“You always do that. You make sure I eat first, make sure my tent is up first. You always make sure that I’m comfortable first before you are comfortable yourself!” She said quickly, halting. The waves crawled up to their ankles before drawing back into the sea. It continued that constant rhythm as they stared at one another.

He raised an eyebrow, as if he was saying so what? Zelda frowned and stood a bit straighter as she spoke. “From now on, I insist that you take care of yourself first, before you start concerning yourself over me.” He opened his mouth, as if to counter her point, but she immediately continued before he could say anything. “I see you as a companion, Link. As a dear friend, not just some associate of mine. I know that it’s your duty to ensure my safety, but I don’t want it to be at the expense of your own. It happens time after time, and it pains me to—“ she halted, sighing. She realized it seemed ridiculous that she had begun spewing this out simply because he had given her a towel first. But with him, she found herself more impulsive than usual.

And she wasn’t sure if it was necessarily a good thing.

At that point, Zelda had clasped her hands in front of her, casting her eyes elsewhere. Before she continued, she returned her attention back to his now softened gaze once she had found the words she had meant to say. “Take care of yourself more, Link. Won’t you?”

She admired his recklessness, but also feared it. Feared that it would make him meet a brutal end. The mere thought of it chilled her, and as if he knew she was plummeting into the depths of her thoughts, he brought her out of it with the brush of his skin against hers.

His fingers moved a stray piece of damp hair that had stuck to her cheek, making her realize how tense her expression probably looked.

“I’ll be okay,” Link reassured her. But it wasn’t the answer she was hoping to hear.

“Link,” Zelda grabbed his wrist before he could pull away from her cheek. “You’re not invincible,” she whispered, her voice grim.

A heartbeat passed between them.

“I know.”

But did he really? Her eyes traced the various scars covering his legs, arms, to the ones that trailed up his torso. The scars were long, thin, short, wide. Some deep, others superficial. There were even some on his neck. His skin was riddled with marks and burns, and that wasn’t even taking into account the backside of him. Zelda tore her attention away from his body and met his eyes once more.

“Truly?” she asked.

He nodded, and she relaxed when she noticed that any semblance of humor had left his features. Zelda let go of his wrist, drawing her hands back to latch onto the ends of the towel hanging around her shoulders.

“I’ll hold you to that then,” she warned, letting lightness back into her tone. “Don’t you dare forget.”

“You’re so demanding today,” he exhaled, feigning annoyance. He shifted away from her to walk further up the shore, and Zelda followed suit.

“I’m exercising my right as future Queen,” Zelda insisted curtly, tugging at his ponytail gently. A smile of her own quirked up on her lips after she got a laugh out of him.

“Okay, fine. But I’m not going to put myself first every time. If you’re shivering from head to toe I’m giving the blanket to you first.” Link covered his feet with dry sand, wiggling his toes underneath it. She copied him and did the same to her own feet.

“As long as you don’t risk your life, I suppose I’ll agree to your terms,” Zelda replied back solemnly. He chuckled at her intentional usage of her princess-esque tone.

A click clacking sound prompted her to look up from her feet. She glanced back toward the waves, ears perking up. Her eyes latched onto a nearby ironshell crab, sauntering its way alongside the waves.

“Oh!” she said, her eyes brightening. “And lest I forget…” Zelda carefully made her way toward it, “I do wonder if I could study these local crabs alongside the hot-footed frogs. Will these crabs also produce some interesting effects, or will they simply be good for dining?” She raised her hands up, her fingers wiggling in anticipation. The moment the ironshell crab turned its head, Zelda latched onto it, being mindful of its claws.

She turned around to face Link, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “I have seen these crabs in some of our flora and fauna books in the royal library. I’m sure the name ‘ironshell’ wouldn’t have appeared out of the blue if they weren’t known for just that. If we take its name into consideration, perhaps it can offer some sort of increased sturdiness, which would greatly benefit you!” she rambled, peeking up to a nervous looking Link.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to eat this one just as it is,” she promised. “Unless, in the name of research, you would be willing to try it this time?” Zelda held the crab up to him, and she burst into fit of laughter when he instinctively paced ten steps back. “I’m merely joking, Link!”

He let out a shaky, albeit relieved, laugh of his own. Although it would’ve been fortunate for her studies, the last time she urged Link to try a critter, he was less than willing to. She was hoping that maybe a crab would be up his alley, but she figured that eating live critters raw was probably not something anyone, even Link, would be too keen on trying if he didn’t have to.

“Get a bottle for me, will you? I want to take it back to the castle.”

As he shuffled in her bag for a glass bottle, Zelda carefully made her way back to him while avoiding its sharp clippers. They sat down across from one another, with Link holding out the bottle, and Zelda meticulously placing the ironshell crab into it. She sealed it with a pre-stabbed cork top. She wanted to enable some breathing air for her captured critters, since a live specimen was far more valuable to her than a dead one. She lowered her head to get a clearer view as the numerous experiments she was planning on conducting were already whirring around in her head.

“Let’s come back here with everyone else once we seal Ganon,” Link said, his voice quiet against the wind. Zelda raised her eyes from the glass bottle to his face, a bit taken aback from his declaration. He was looking down at her hunched form, staring at her. Even now, it was hard to tell what he was thinking sometimes, despite her best efforts to decipher his expressions.

“Once we seal Calamity Ganon,” she echoed back, agreeing with a nod. She leaned back, clearing her throat, but the uncomfortable lodge stuck in it did not disappear. And she knew exactly what it was.

Her fear, growing and evolving into something more twisted and deafening than it already was.

And it only grew larger when he tilted his head up at her and smiled—not those small smiles he usually gave her—but a smile that reached his eyes. She had never seen one of those before, and a selfish desire to keep that smile only to herself flourished alongside that fear.

“I think we should visit the Spring of Courage again before we head back to the castle. We still have two days left,” Zelda murmured, casting her attention back to the clear blue water.

“Are you sure?” Link asked, drawing his eyes in the same direction.

Zelda nodded, letting out a long, hard exhale.

They both stared out toward the sea, relishing in its peacefulness for one last time.

#botw #zelink #breath of the wild #link #zelda #botw fanfiction #zelink fanfiction #archived memories #my fanfics #chonky chapter!

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sp00kworm · 5 years

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Grace (Lorenz x Female Reader)

Ko-fi Link | AO3

Link to the Story on AO3

Warning for Post-Time skip spoilers!

The heir to House Gloucester was, simply put, a pompous noble. Galivanting his way around the grounds and town, he was always chatting to women, offering flowers and trying to swindle his way into dates with the finest noble women. He was a hooligan, if ever Byleth had seen one, and the Professor made sure to put this across to his student whenever he could. Lorenz of course, disagreed with his points, claiming the attention to be valid and wanted. It was not. It never was. Byleth only asked that he stop speaking to the girls so harshly. They weren’t wanting of his endeavours, nor were any of the girls, perhaps bar Dorothea, looking for husbands during their studies. It didn’t really get through the young lord’s thick skull. His grades were still impeccable, and Lorenz overachieved despite his tendencies with the women. Byleth simply encouraged him to think on other things, yet the noble was somewhat cowed by his blunt forwardness. It was upsetting to him to think that the women and girls despised him when he was simply doing his duty to his house.

No-one understood it. Surely the other nobles did? It was his duty to find a suitable wife and continue his bloodline with their crest. It was hard enough now, with the noble blood diluting and the crests being harder and harder to bear. It was a troubling time. Lorenz knew that and had known it from being small. He had to have a suitable wife. That was the end of it. He had to make his family proud.

Lorenz sighed inside the stables. He had made sure Marianne wasn’t lingering with the horses before sitting in the stall. His horse huffed, stomping her foot against the straw bedding over the cobbles. They had been out for a small walk around the fields just outside of Garreg Mach. He knew it was dangerous, and that he was lucky he wasn’t caught breaking curfew by the Professor, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty. The young man had needed the air, and the moment away from everyone. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry. His mare snuffled softly, and Lorenz ran his hand through her black hair as he sniffled into his shirt sleeve, the cravat choking him almost as he cried.

He quietened himself as he heard someone humming. A mount whinnied and Lorenz covered his mouth before wiping his eyes on his white shirt sleeve. After taking a breath he opened his mare’s gate and peered down the aisle of other stalls. He caught sight of a very familiar looking girl then, down the stables and in her own stall. She smiled as she ran her fingers over a pegasus’ mane. Her other hand held a comb, and she ran it gently through the creature’s hair before placing it away and setting her fingers to work, braiding the section loosely, tying the end off with a deep purple ribbon. She was engrossed in her work and didn’t notice him until he was stood outside of her stall. As the woman turned, she let out a gasp and jumped. Lorenz cringed at the noise before smiling, flicking his hair from his face as he turned on the façade of carefree noble.

“Surely you are not in such awe of I that you cannot speak?” Lorenz smiled and peered over at her handy work with the Pegasus. It was a male, wings broad and strong, yet it’s snooty persona shone through as the animal looked at him with scornful eyes. He was evidently interrupting something that the Pegasus enjoyed.

You felt your cheeks flush a little with embarrassment, having been caught cooing and playing with an animal that everyone viewed as a tool, and by Lorenz no less. The rumour mill would churn viciously with Lorenz at the helm, “No, Master Gloucester, I was just looking after Percy’s coat. He got dusty and dirty in the last fight.”

“He is a magnificent creature.” Lorenz complimented, looking over the bows before he sighed, “And you are a talented woman! Such skill with hair.” The young man leaned over the stall and noticed the lack of uniform with a furrowed brow, “You are not enrolled at the academy?” Lorenz asked, lilac eyes widening with interest.

This was maybe the longest one of the academy students had ever spoken to you. You were a Knight’s apprentice, the dashing Falcon Knight taking you under her wing after seeing you looking after one of the injured Pegasus on their breeder’s farm. And orphan and now an apprentice to the most prestigious Pegasus Knight within the Knights of Seiros.

“I’m an apprentice under Primrose.” You confessed quietly, “She is a Falcon Knight and leader of the Pegasus Knights.” Your eyes went starry as you spoke of your Master.

“I have seen her in the courtyard. Her form and grace are unrivalled! Her wit as well. She is a fine woman, for a knight that is.” His off handed comment made you frown.

“Just because she is not noble, doesn’t make her achievements any less, Lorenz.” You flushed with anger at the young man, turning away from your Pegasus.

The man scoffed, “I am not insulting her, how dare you suggest that I, a noble, would fall to that level. It is slanderous.” He pulled away from the stall, manners forgotten as he scowled at the young Pegasus Knight.

“I will leave you to your grooming. Good evening, Miss.” Lorenz bowed at the waist, face twisted in upset as he moved to leave, pushing his hair back behind his ear, before realising he had fallen into the nervous habit once more.

With a thump, you threw your grooming tools on the floor and followed the noble, grabbing the back of his shirt in your fist, rubbing dust into the pristine white colour, “Then why were you in here in the first place? You come in here for hours sometimes. I heard you…” The boy stiffened in your grasp, “I heard you crying…” You whispered softly before letting go of his shirt, “I shouldn’t have been listening, I know, but its always after you go out riding…You can talk to me about it, you know…Even if you don’t want to, you can always just come here and hide.”

Lorenz clenched his jaw before looking over his shoulder at you, purple eyes burning with anger. He was humiliated. He felt completely and utterly humiliated, and by a commoner no less. An orphan. He pulled himself away and turned around, face red and eyes burning with fresh tears, “You don’t know anything!” He covered his mouth after the vicious words fell from his lips, “I…I apologise milady. I did…” He swallowed thickly before looking to the side and sighing, “Don’t…Don’t tell anyone about it, please?”

Your eyes widened as the noble drew closer, “I promise. But my offer still stands. You can talk to me…Without any of the stupid speech too if you would like?” You smiled at the young man and watched his mouth open and close like a goldfish.

Lorenz coughed, recovering the composure that he was known for, “I appreciate your offer, and I will accept it. I will…see you tomorrow?” He offered his hand before curling his fingers back towards himself. He smiled awkwardly as you caught his hand and shook it.

“Deal!” You turned back to your Pegasus’ stall and waved gently, “See you tomorrow…”

“Lorenz…Call me Lorenz. You don’t need to use titles between us.” A ghost of a smile flickered over the noble’s face as he addressed you simply by your first name.

You nodded before taking up Percy’s comb once more, “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Lorenz.”

He didn’t see you for some time after the siege of Garreg Mach. His family was pledged into the Empire before he could raise a word with his father, and he spent years atop his horse seeking to quell the rebellions against his father’s weak decision. It was better to side with the winning force, he had told him as he came out of the empresses’ throne room. Lorenz had disagreed after some time thinking on it, and only disagreed more when he faced his teacher’s blade. The man was radiant in the dawn light, his face as cold as he remembered, yet the blade never reached him, a lance shattering before his face, the soft flutter of Pegasus wings dancing over his lavender coloured hair.

“Professor! It is Lorenz! Please! Stay your blade!” You landed softly over him, and Lorenz felt his mount heave him backwards.

He had fallen from his saddle unceremoniously, his leg tangled in his stirrups, the armour over his leg wrapped with leather and stuck fast. Lorenz prayed the mare didn’t spook and haul him through the last of the battle raging behind them. The cut over his face burned with gravel in it and Lorenz reached for his leg, pulling the leather free of his greaves before he managed to reign in his horse.

He whispered softly to the mare, looking at the cut on her flank before he looked to the bright white Pegasus, wings spread as a woman he had not seen in years defended him.

“Professor, please!” You cried, blood dripping into your armour from a gash. The lance you had used to defend him had exploded with the impact of the Sword of The Creator, and the pieces flashed back into your skin, cutting you in several places.

“How do I know he is not the enemy?” Byleth’s cold voice gave Lorenz enough sense, through his concussion, to defend himself.

“I am not.” He announced as he stood next to his mount, lance in his grasp and magic flaring in his palms, “My father is wrong. I know he is wrong to side with the Empire.” Lorenz gripped his lance before kneeling before his once Professor, “If you think I am a traitor, then strike me down! I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, and on my honour as a knight and a lord, I swear that I am no friend to the empire!”

He felt a hand on his shoulder after the proclamation and looked up, seeing the orphan girl he had once taken to confiding in, now grown as a woman, and a Knight.

“I know, Lorenz.” Byleth stood over him, bright hair gleaming as he offered the lord his hand, “Will you side with us? We aim to put an end to Edelgard’s tyranny.”

Without hesitation, he took the man’s hand firmly, lifting himself up, “I swear it to you, on my name and honour, I will see the empire in ruins before I abandon my friends ever again.”

Byleth smiled, “I am glad to hear it.” And clapped his student over the back before moving aside. Lorenz felt his heart swell at the sight behind him, his Academy friends, grouped together and staring at him. Claude was elated to see him and quickly strolled over, clamping their hands together before giving his back a firm slap.

“It is good to have you back on board, Lorenz, even if it was after kicking your ass off that horse.”

Lorenz scoffed at the man, “Please, Claude, you embarrass yourself. Twas not I who fell from his Wyvern moments ago.” He smirked, a cat like grin curling his lips upwards, and Claude gave the noble a glare in response. Soon, the two of them were laughing, and you smiled from the side lines before turning to the Professor. You hadn’t come to just participate in the battle. Lorenz turned away from Claude with a smile and looked over at you, blood leaking over your collar bone as you handed the man a scroll. He couldn’t hear the exchange, but he saw the seriousness on your face all the same. You weren’t the carefree girl he once knew anymore. He waited patiently by his horse for the two of you to finish your conversation before he approached, leading his pitch-black mare by her bit. Before you could jump back onto your Pegasus, Lorenz caught your arm gently.

“Forgive my brashness, my dear, but I wish to thank you.” He waited for you to face him before continuing, “Your intervention very well saved my life. I could not be more thankful for your actions. I am indebted to you.” He placed his hand over his heart before bowing at the waist, low, in a sign of gratitude. What he didn’t expect was for you to start laughing softly.

“I never thought I would see the day that Lorenz Hellman Gloucester was all grown up and thanking a commoner with sincerity.” You stood before him, clad in shining armour, hair pulled away from your face and silver winged helmet sat under your arm, the emblem of the church burning bright on your chest, “You have grown so much since I last saw you, and your hair…It is much nicer.” You teased gently, watching his expression turn shocked.

“Ah…yes w-well.” He stiffened his posture and rubbed his gauntlet covered hands together, “You have changed a great deal too. And you are a Knight of Seiros now, are you not?” Lorenz looked at your mount and pointed at it’s nose, “Yet you still have your foul tempered Percy.” He chortled as the Pegasus snorted, foot stomping against the cobbles.

Holding the reigns tighter, you laughed gently, “Of course. He is how I managed to get away that day, after all… It was a horrible battle, but I am glad to see you safe, Lorenz. I am even happier to be fighting by your side…Perhaps we could pick up our little chats once more? I…” You swallowed, “I have missed them and now you seem like you have many stories to tell.”

Lorenz felt his tongue go heavy, all eloquence disappearing from him, “But of course!” He perhaps sounded a little too eager, and he took to stroking his mare’s nose gently to ease his worries, “I would like nothing more. I have…missed you, (Y/N), more than you know.” He smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, the long lavender strands flattering to his high cheek bones and long, straight nose. They were features you had not noticed before.

“I have missed it all. The duties of a knight are far from the glamour of the fables.” Carefully, avoiding the cut on Percy’s back, you climbed back onto your mount, and smiled, “Shall I meet you tonight? I can help you with her injuries too.”

Lorenz nodded slowly, “Yes…Tonight sounds lovely.”

“Then I will see you tonight, on the edge of camp after dinner. I have a salve for those kinds of scrapes.” You reared Percy upwards, the mount galloping lopsided before taking off into the skies, leaving a gale of dust in his wake. Lorenz looked skywards and smiled, touching the rose on his armour before mounting back up to follow his classmates back to their encampment.

True to your word, you made sure to show up after dinner had been served, on the outskirts of the camp, where the mounts were being kept for the time being. Makeshift tether posts had been fashioned from wood and most of the animals were laid around or stood idly chewing oats and hay. The Wyverns were on the other side of camp, and for good measure. You placed your small bag of brushes and care equipment down by Percy before taking away the linen and salve you had already applied to his flank. The wound had closed nicely, and you sighed with relief before replacing the linen and taking hold of your comb, undoing the ribbons from the Pegasus’ hair before setting to work combing his mane.

“I’m glad to see you still have such talent.” Lorenz made you jump, and you smiled at the noble, who was leading his mare with worry, “I hope you have plenty of that salve. She may be a war horse, but she can only take so many cuts herself.” He tutted softly as he tethered his horse, fingers gentle around her legs as he looked at the cuts. A few were still seeping blood.

With a deep breath you went for your bag and pulled out a thick, green salve, “This should help her heal just fine.” You smiled and handed the man the jar.

He cringed after unscrewing the lid, “By the Goddess…What is in this?” He pinched his nose dramatically at the pungent scent of the salve.

“You’re like a child that doesn’t want bitter medicine.” You took the jar from him and looked at his mare’s legs before pushing your fingers into the herby mixture and spreading it over the little cuts, “It’s a human salve. It works just as well on animals, you know. You’ll just have to wrap her legs to stop her licking at it.” Gently you handed him the jar and wiped the mixture left on your fingers into the grass. Lorenz stuck his finger into the mixture and hummed softly, setting to work covering the cuts on his horse’s legs in salve before wrapping them gently in linen bandages. You watched over Percy’s back as Lorenz worked, his face soft as he cared for his steed. You hid behind Percy’s wing as you blushed, Lorenz chortling at your staring throughout the night.

No one commented on the braids in his steed’s hair, nor the matching purple bows with your Pegasus.

The war was over before he plucked up the guts to speak to you about his feelings. Whenever he gazed at you in the sky, or spoke to you, his heart swelled, and he felt deep down, that he was not worthy of a woman like you. He waited idly in the corridor as you finished your reports to Seteth, the man still the right-hand man, simply to the new Archbishop Byleth now. The door opened and Lorenz swallowed, adjusting his cravat and purple waistcoat, brushing the intricate gold embroidery before pulling at his sleeve cuffs, the puffy material flaring around his wrists.

“Milady?” You turned to look at him curiously and smiled, “Do you have a moment to speak? I would like to take you somewhere.” He confessed before offering his arm, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear as he so often did.

“Of course.” Carefully, you took his arm, dressed in a plain shirt with a black bow around the neck, and heavy black under trousers. Your boots were thick and dark as well. These were no doubt the clothes you wore under your armour, “Where are we going?”

Lorenz smiled, placing his hand over your own in the crook of his arm, “The Goddess Tower.” You said nothing else but followed him, chattering away about an ancient tome. Granted, he was curious about the magic within it.

The tower was cool in the evening, and Lorenz took a breath as you both reached the top, looking out at the loch around the Monastery.

“I have something to confess to you.” He took each of your hands, linking your fingers, much like he had done at the dance last night, “I have fallen in love with you. I could not find the courage to tell you during the war, or even before that. I thought I was not worthy of you. I have changed, I know this to be true, but I am…You are wonderous, beautiful, gallant and graceful. As a youngster…even a year ago, I was not a kind man and…I just wished for you to know.”

Your mouth dropped open but sensing Lorenz’s intention to move away, you gripped his hands tightly and smiled, cheeks warming, “I love you too.”

The man before you was stunned, mouth open wide, his hair flopping over his cheek before he reached into his pocket and presented a ring, dropping to a knee after flicking his long lilac hair back from his face, “Then, milady, would you do me the honour of being my wife?” He held out a golden, ornate ring, and you nodded with a grin, letting Loren’z magic roughened hands sip the ring on. He pressed a kiss to it before rising, giddy and smiling.

“You have done me the highest honour, my love…yes my love, my one and only!” Lorenz reached for you, holding you close by the waist, “You will be the most cherished woman in all of Fodlan, my dearest, my gem, my love!” He laughed brightly and took you by the waist, spinning you, still looming over you with his great height.

“Lorenz! Put me down!” You laughed as your feet were placed firmly back on the floor.

“My lady you will know nothing but luxury, or my name is not Lorenz Hellman Gloucester! By the Goddess, I love you…” He took hold of your cheeks, “Status, crests, nobility. None of it matters. What matters is what is inside. I know that now…thanks to you, my love.” He smiled and you leaned forwards, kissing him, and stilling his rambling.

“I love you, Lorenz, and I have since that very first time we brushed our mounts together. You were never a stuffy noble to me after that…and I suspected you felt the same.”

“Truly? …” He flushed, “And to think I waited this long. How embarrassing…” His pale cheeks went red and you kissed one softly before pushing his hair away and hugging him tightly, “My Lady Gloucester…It suits you.” His soft smile was infectious.

Giggling you laid your head against his shoulder, “The title doesn’t matter, Lorenz. You could be a stable boy and I would still marry you.”

The Dark Knight simply leaned down to kiss you once more, and pulled away with embarrassment, “I apologise my lady, that was rude.” For someone so vocal, the man was prudish in your presence.

“Don’t apologise, my love.” You teased and he only blushed deeper.

“It was tactless, and you deserve…” Lorenz blathered, rubbing your hips softly.

You fixed the Lord with a look before taking his hand, “Hush now, let us break the news. We can’t stay in the presence of the Goddess Tower forever, no matter the rumours surrounding it.” You led the man to the stairs, and with a soft whisper of thank you to the Goddess, you followed your betrothed out of the stone, smiling at his blathering about the wedding.

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