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tiens-letters · 3 years

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with these hands, I vowed to love you

with these hands, I vowed to care for you

and with these hands, I ruined you

Childe (angst)

tw : slight gore and just pure pain

...

It was that time of the year again, going back to the snowy region was a bliss for you. Having to visit your fiancée's family was an unspoken tradition after he introduced you to them. They practically took you in as one of them immediately, especially that little angel brother of his.

Teucer.

The train ride was comfortable , the window giving you the familiar beauty of the snowy landscape of snezhenaya. It was snug inside the rather spacious compartment Childe rented out, even when you told him that you'd rather share a normal one due to your thrifty nature he'd shrug it off, claiming it that he has too much mora and nowhere to spend it on other than you.

Gifts from him would scare you as you knew these weren't anywhere cheap. Everything he gave was expensive, he loved showering you in gifts and it made you feel so overwhelmed.

"Ajax, you're spending too much." you were visibly sweating beside him as he picked out another one of the dresses on display at the local boutique of Liyue.

"I think this one would suit you better, don't you think so love?" of course he wasn't listening, placing the dress in front of you

"Ajax." you frowned at him

" I just want to spoil you." he whines

"I know but sometimes its just..." you stopped yourself before saying anything further in fear of offending him

"Was it too much again?" the tone in his voice softens as he puts back the dress, he knew how you didn't like that habit of his, formed from the first time he saw you down by the docks.

"One dress, Ajax. One is enough since you picked it out for me." you gave in not wanting to see him so dejected, he immediately brightens up as he pecks you on cheek before rushing off to a different aisle of clothing. Sighing, you sat down on the sofa present in the shop, watching the ginger decide thoroughly of what dress to buy.

But of course, your love for one another runs deeper than things bought off gold nor silver. No, it ran deeper than anything else, rivaling the oceanic depths.

"What are you thinking about hmm?" he hums below you, head resting against your lap.

"Im just happy to be visiting again, that's all." you smile, nimble hands brushing through his soft hair "Sleep well?"

"You bet I did." he grins taking your hand and placing a kiss to your beating pulse and then another and another, showering you in his deeply rooted affection. Soon his kisses reached where they are supposed to belong, those soft lips of yours and then inching their way to the sensitive spots on your neck, leaving marks only he can place on you.

Breathless and bothered, you pushed him back "The attendants are gonna see, you idiot." at least you still had some control in you

"They will only arrive when we call them , so its fine to have a little fun before we arrive." there was that sly grin of his as he continued in where you both left off, ears perking to hear more sounds exclusively for him and him only.

"You horny bastard!"

...

It was cozy by the hearth, you and his siblings huddled together in one single fleece blanket, steaming cups of hot cocoa in hand. Childish giggles and hushed stories erupted amongst you. Teucer having wrapped in your arms as he snuggled closer. Anthon and Tonia flanking your sides.

"Hey, who's fiancé do you think you guys are coveting?"

"Oh don't be like that, your siblings just miss them." his mother chided from the couch where she sat, an open book on her lap, she didn't seem to age and always looked so young that at first you were shocked to have been introduced to her.

"But mom, I haven't seen her all day." her son pouts as if he were still a child denied his candy

"Give me a break, you're always clinging onto her you know." his sister rolls those identical thalassic eyes at him "You wont die if you go a day without her."

"Listen here you little---"

"Ajax." you interjected, as much as you enjoy the siblingly banter of theirs, you cant have them going at each other with offensive words. His pleading gaze aimed at you as he practically begged for you both to go home.

"Please?"

"After I put Teucer to bed." you sighed, standing up with the youngest in your arms

"Seriously this guy." his sister groaned "I was having a good time."

"Tonia dear, we can continue our conversations tomorrow." you winked at her, it was a promise

"Fine."

Both of you bid farewell to his mother and made your way towards Teucer's room and tucking him in.

"Happy?" you turned to your fiancée, a narrowed look in your eyes as he grinned beside you

"Of course, sweetheart!" he pecked your lips as he pulled you closer

"Can you not do it in Teucer's room? Have some shame." his siblings' comments were endless, this time it was from his older brother.

"That's why were going home." Childe picked you up as you made a surprised yelp making the other party roll his eyes "Also, get ready to lose tomorrow brother. I'm getting that white deer for my lady."

"I'm looking forward to it."

The walk was short towards Childe's home as he preferred living alone. It was a grandiose manor and you were sure you will never get used to how big it was and filled with such furnitures of the finest quality.

"Well, how was your day darling?" you hummed, arms snaking around his neck

"Oh you wouldn't believe it."

...

It was there.

You felt it in the cold breeze that wafted into the room.

A shift in the flow of the wind, it was different yet familiar at the same time. Leaving the window open as the harsh temperatures of the night climbed and crawled inside. The curtains danced in the turbulent current of the gale, carrying songs only you could hear. Songs that made mountains tremble and build civilizations at the same time.

there was something foreboding, something terrifying and something heavy and dark that devoured anything in its path.

You heard him first before he came in through those doors, that tousled ginger hair of his caked with melting snowflakes in the warm glow of the lamps. His rugged appearance caused by the hunting competition between him and his older siblings induced his worn out state. That soft yet jaded smile of his was what welcomed you as he trudged inside the bedroom, lazily discarding his clothes on the basket for dirty laundry and entering the bathroom for a quick shower.

"why is the window open? " he asks you, sliding inside the warm covers

"I just wanted fresh air ." you smile as you shut the windows and pull the blinds enough for you to see the moon that hung above the sky. Joining him under the covers, you cradled him, his head resting on the crook of your neck. Your hands finding their way into those soft locks of his , entangling them as he hummed softly against you. Those arms of his that held weapons and skin littered with scars both old and new now held you close, so tenderly as if he'd never taken a life before.

"sing me a song, sweetheart. " his queries were simple yet genuine

"of course." you sang until you equated him to a sleeping newborn

It was warm, so warm that you could have mistaken it for a summer afternoon in Liyue, resting on the couch with silken pillows and window showcasing the view of the harbor below. The steaming cups of soothing tea Beidou would brew for you when nights became cold at times she would pay you a visit after trading that would take weeks, months and rarely years.

you slept.

Why is it cold? you wondered, Did Ajax open the windows?

You were blessed by the tsaritsa so such climates shouldn't matter to you.

You woke up.

A shadow was cast over you by the man youve sung to sleep. Virulent blue eyes looked at you with so much abhorrence, for a second you couldnt recognize them and thought it was a stranger to which you were ready to terminate.

"Ajax?" your voice was hoarse, as you slowly lost the feeling in your lips.

He was crazed, still trapped in that dreaming state of his, drifting between experiences. Today was a re-enactment of a memory he would never speak of, not even to you. There were parts of him he'd never tell you, such a soul as yours should never hear.

You choked and coughed as the metallic taste of mortal ichor filled your throat. How could you have not felt anything earlier? Was it because of your futile attempts to coax Ajax back into reality or was it because of the numerous thoughts your mind came up with to he answer as to why he is in such a virulent state. Excruciating pain filled your whole body as you writhed and struggled under his grip. It felt as if something was being ripped out of you.

"Ajax, darling come back to me." you cried, it took so much to even utter a word as you bled out, you know not where but you could feel it. The liquid vital for your survival was seeping out of you, flowing like a lazy river on an autumns day, only that it was warm, sticky and addicting.

"Ajax?" a hiss comes from that mouth, he cringes as you freed your numb hands to hold his face and he let you, seeing as to there was no point in stopping you as you dangerously danced on a tight rope of life and death. You couldn't tell in that delirious disposition of yours if his eyes were shifting between Ajax or the primal eyes of a beast hunting its prey.

It wasn't too late was it?

But why didn't your eyes meet his?

Who snuffed out all the lights?

"I've abandoned that name a long time ago."

The cold took over you completely, freezing you until you broke under his touch with words left dying in your ichor filled lips

and then fear was the last thing you felt.

fear that he might not return to his sweet, charming self.

fear that he will curse everything in his path.

fear that he might attempt to use different various methods to bring back what was lost

and fear of his ruination.

you care not for your death, even in your last minutes of life, you dare not blame him for what he's endured so far. only wishing he never had to experience such in the first place.

This is what the wind warned you about in its lullaby.

...

Childe woke up for the second time.

Oddly more worn out than the day before, but your songs always worked, how come? . He wondered if you left to make breakfast as the covers felt empty as he reached out for you. No, you were a late riser, always having to slumber in the middle of the warm covers of the bed you both share. It was he who mostly did the cooking in the morning. So your presence gone was a displacement in the moment of his waking.

His eyes had to adjust to the view of the room as he sat up, a yawn escaping his lips as he called for you. The pitter-patter sound of the water on the bathroom tiles were non-existent as he strained his ears to hear for any trace of you.

"What..." he was confused as to why the room was trashed, furniture broken in half and strewn about the room, the drapes shredded and laying on the floor and the mirror shattered to pieces, shards sharp enough to cut through skin yet he slept through such a thing?

his first concern was your safety as you had not been present in the room and it him.

the heavy stench of blood lingered in the air. His enjoyment for such things turned into something suffocating because blood was never shed in his own home nor in his very room. In the state of confusion, something dark caught his peripheral vision. A large blemish in the covers beside him, it was dyed a deep dark crimson and he knew well what it was. He began to shake in worry, telling himself not to panic until he finds you safe. All he could remember was you singing him to sleep, held captive in your soft arms, encased in your warmth, so how did it come to such a morning that looked like a result of a monster's tantrum. He calls out for you, his bare feet on the floor as splinters punctured them and he didnt care. he had to find you.

The hallways looked haunting, the portraits on the walls taunting him and he swore he was going lose it if he hadnt found you sooner, every room was achingly vacant and it felt like a dream. He calls for your name again in a frenzy as he rushes through the place, had the mansion been this big? he thinks as he runs down the stairs.

There in the fireplace, the dying embers of fire lit from the night before, wood giving away and turning into coal as the burning smell mingled with similar stench that engulfed the bedroom, the same dark liquid on the sheets was present as well, only that it was painted into the wall and bled down creating a cascading waterfall.

Because there you were, with arms spread out as if welcoming each and every sinner for solace and blessing them with forgiveness, the drying mortal ichor behind you creating a halo. Your lips upturned into something soft as if you'd do anything disgraceful to keep the effeminacy on a soul lost to ruin.

an angel crucified.

that oh so heavenly face of yours could rival anything beautiful, even statues would crumble under you, nations would go to war for you and bodies of those who want you would turn into a throne built for you and you only. You were immortally ethereal even in death.

Ajax, dear sweet Ajax felt his legs give away, energy having siphoned from him as he trembled so much that it could rival the mountains when they shook. Thalassic eyes, wide blown into grief, anguish and all other emotions crashed against him like strong waves that could drown anyone caught up in it. He knelt as pain spread through him like wildfire, burning, scorching and killing. Agonized cries filled the room and if someone were to pass by, they couldve mistaken it for a dying animal. He gasped and choked on his own breath as he dared to look at you, the tears freely flowing from his eyes, down to his pale cheek and finally falling off his trembling chin to be hungrily absorbed by the carpeted floor that was also tarnished by ichor.

He felt crazed as he wept and in that moment of insanity, he remembered. That most disgusting sin he's ever committed that he should never be pardoned for in the life he has right now and the next ones he will be in. Through the blur of tears, he saw his hands and he wished he didnt.

Sullied hands befitting a murderer.

He screams into the ground, doubling over as his hands find their way into his hair, gripping it and ripping out those jacinthe locks of his. He could never forgive himself now and he never will. He wails out loud until his own throat collapsed into a croaking mess.

and then he couldnt find himself no longer.

The sand of time seemed to trickle down slowly. His eldest siblings came looking for him, to continue the hunt. A once peaceful encounter turned into a nightmarish reality as they witnessed their brother rocking back and forth with you gingerly wrapped in his arms, mumbling your name. Lips pressed to your forehead as he prayed and begged for forgiveness over and over in hushed torn whispers as if it were enough to bring you back and cover that gaping hole in your abdomen.

"What did you do?"

...

"Brother, when are they coming back?"

Oh darling Teucer, innocence reflecting off his eyes as he tugged on his brother's sleeve. The toy you gifted him clutched tightly at his side.

"I dont know kid, their mission was sudden so its best to wait. Can you do that Teuc?" the truth about you was kept behind closed doors, only adults can speak of and if they did, it took time to keep the conversation smooth and off of any grief nor sadness when your name reached their tongue. The younger ones would never know until the time is right. When everything was taken care of and hearts moved on.

Your funeral was held in secrecy yet was it was grand. Something that would hold the significance of your memories with them. It was beautiful, your favorite flowers lined along your coffin, and you. Looking ever so ethereal even when death has kissed you, clad in that dress Childe bought for you.

"uh huh!" the youngest ginger nodded eagerly and skipped away as the eldest sighed into his hands, the pressure weighing heavily on his shoulders as he worried more and more about his younger sibling. Another memory, a mind broken and a his soul withering. was there any way to save him?

Days seemed to go by as any glimpse of the man was scarce. Until one day they ceased to see him altogether. It started at lunch, a week after the funeral when it took everyone to coax him into eating more as he lost weight and trickled down to a whole day. Cooped up in his room, clinging to a pillow with the fading scent of you. and then he was gone, like a snowflake melting upon ones forehead. They grew anxious and thought of the worse until they caught wind that he was back in Liyue from one of the agents only then were they allowed to breathe a little better.

"Childe, what finds you here?" the calm tone of the geo archon's voice broke him out of his trance

"Have you seen my fiance?" Zhongli blinks at the question of the harbinger, he knew what befell you and yet this man before him seemed clueless enough as to what he committed. How Childe did what he did, he seemed to sympathize with in a way that would make him understand his behavior.

" I have not." he couldnt bring himself to tell this man the truth. Perhaps he was sparing him, spearing that mind of his into spiraling down into nothingness and a heart that was held by a thin piece of thread. "Perhaps it is better to enjoy yourself while you wait for them."

To deviate oneself from the loss might be the best way Childe right now until his mind is ready to accept the torment of the heavy truth that would slew this man.

"I see. " he smiles and yet it feels so empty to Childe, the reason? He wouldnt know or atleast his mind wouldnt allow him to know

"Ill see you around then Xiansheng."

Everything that he portrayed lacked and all he could do as he's always did.

...........

i had to.

I hope yall would get Childe :)

#genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact drabbles #childe #childe angst #childe one shot #childe imagine #childe drabble #ajax #tartaglia

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eryiss · 3 years

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Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Summary: Laxus has returned to the guild, but is still scared of not being accepted. Freed does what he can to help, and insists that Laxus attend some of the events held in the guildhall. Over the course of a year, and four different parties, the guild starts feeling like home again. And Freed, well... Freed has something to confess.

Notes: Hi. This was a little thing I wrote becuase I haven't done enough canon-verse writing; that and I want to procrastonate from uni work. I hope you all enjoy it, and sorry for any mistakes.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Part of the Party

The Summer Solstice

Freed was, despite what some might claim, rather fond of parties. Not so much in the way a typical Fairy Tail mage might do; he didn't find pleasure in getting as drunk as his body would allow, starting a fight, and collapsing in the mountain of rubble they'd created. Rather, he went to the guild parties to nurse a glass of wine, watch the inevitable decline in both intelligence and balance of his friends, and watch from the side-lines. It was his own form of enjoyment, and yet it had somehow given him the reputation as, as one of his guildmates had so eloquently put it, a boring stick-in-the-mud bastard.

That had been Natsu, who at that moment was wobbling haphazardly towards the bar, hugging Pantherlilly as if he were his own cat, singing at the top of his lungs with neither pitch nor tone. Hardly a reputable source of judgment, Freed concluded.

Still, that was the reputation he had gained, and he wasn't helping that tonight.

Rather, he was making it worse. From the moment he had arrived he had refused any drinks, had perched himself at a table on the second floor as to overlook the party but not be a part of it, and hardly spoken to anybody; not the most convivial actions for celebrating the summer solstice. It hadn't been for lack of wanting to be involved, but rather out of necessity. This was Laxus' first guild event since he had returned, and he hadn't been entirely enthusiastic to go.

It was a problem that had Freed worried. Laxus had been accepted back with open arms, and yet he was still skittish around anyone other than the Raijinshuu. He had been forgiven, but didn't seem to believe it, and avoided everyone as much as he could. Freed knew that, had he not been forceful with his friend, Laxus would have spent the night alone.

So they'd made a deal. Laxus would attend the party, but he was allowed to leave at any moment.

Freed felt that this was maybe too big a step taken too quickly, and he'd only realised that as they approached the guildhall. Laxus was… off-kilter, and this might push him over the edge. So, he had decided that if the worse did happen, Freed would be sober and waiting to help Laxus with it. But it didn't look like he needed it.

"You can't just watch him all night, you know," Mirajane commented as she walked up the stairs, holding a glass of chocolate milkshake; if he couldn't have alcohol, Freed would indulge in other ways. "You might enjoy yourself more. He's doing okay."

"I know," Freed agreed, taking the drink and placing the used glass from earlier on Mirajane's tray. "But I think, the longer he's down there alone, the better. He needs to be fully submerged without his crutch."

"His crutch being you, Ever and Bicks?" Mirajane asked, and Freed nodded. "That's why they're avoiding him, then."

"Indeed, although I suspect Ever would gravitate towards your brother no matter what," Freed chuckled a little, and Mirajane preened a little at the reminder. "Though I must admit, Bickslow, Loke and Natsu being so close does concern me. They're chaotic enough as is, I'd rather not deal with them all together."

"I think they're playing tic-tac-toe," Mirajane frowned a little. "I think it's only a matter of time before Loke suggests making it strip tic-tac-toe, but it's innocent enough right now."

"Perhaps bring me a bucket of water, I could probably pour it over them all from here should they get too involved in their game," Freed mused aloud, and Mirajane laughed a little at the thought.

They both remained in silence for a while, Freed watching as Laxus had a somewhat awkward looking conversation with Reedus, who seemed to be requesting Laxus model for a painting sometimes in the future. Freed smiled a little, hearing Laxus say that he'd consider it; a step in the right direction already. Before his excommunication, Laxus wouldn't have given a second before denying the request, it was nice for him to be making the effort.

Too engrossed in his pride for his friend, Freed missed the slightly sad look on Mirajane's face as she looked down at him. Because of this, when she spoke again, Freed found himself on the back foot and ill-prepared.

"Have you told him yet?" She asked, voice soft but words making Freed freeze. She continued. "It's just that you said that you would, and I really do think he'd-"

"It's not the time," Freed spoke softly, but with firmness.

"When will the time be, Freed?"

"He's," Freed began, but stopped and sighed. "His life is a mess right now. He has nowhere to live other than my sofa, feels like the place he's called home for most of his life doesn't want him there, and doesn't know what to do. It would be cruel to add something else onto that."

"I understand that, but it might be nice for him," Mirajane shrugged. "He likes you back, he always has. He's just not been ready for you until now."

"Well, if that's the case, then we can both wait until things are a little less precarious," Freed stated, putting an end to the conversation.

Mirajane didn't seem to want to push, so Freed looked over the banister to the lower floor to see that Laxus' conversation with Reedus had ended. He looked a little lost for a moment, and Freed let a smile flicker onto his face before it immediately died. Laxus couldn't see it yet, but Lucy was approaching him. She, more than anyone else in the guild, was the person Laxus was most scared of speaking with. He had been avoiding her like the plague, and by the expression of determination on her face, she had noticed.

Freed wanted to intercept, or at least break his own rule and be there beside Laxus. Many times, Laxus had expressed regret for how he had treated his guildmates, and more than anyone else he believed Lucy could not forgive him. Many of the others had known Laxus before his shift in character, but Lucy had only seen him at his worth. He couldn't believe that she would give him any benefit of the doubt.

He clearly didn't know her. Freed had thought that way, until he'd been forced to speak with her about fixing his issue with his hair – something that should have been humiliating, but had instead been easy, and without complication. The woman was kind, nothing less.

"He'll be fine," Mirajane assured Freed. "She just wants to get to know him, and he's been okay with everyone else. It'll be fine."

"I know," Freed said, not believing his own words.

They watched from afar as Lucy finally came face to face with Laxus. He was clearly tense, face unmoving and words stilted. Lucy seemed unaffected, chatting away as she so often didn't with enthusiasm and with cheerfulness. Freed had often wondered how so much optimism could be contained in a single person, but he was glad for it now. This was good, it was going fine.

Until it wasn't.

Freed couldn't hear what had been said, but without warning, Laxus erupted into lightning. He was consumed by it within a moment, and bolts of flickering magic shot out of the door, breaking it open and lighting up the city as it darted through the streets. Laxus was gone, and Lucy was left with her mouth agape, silent in her shock. Freed hissed, placing his milkshake on the table and storming towards the staircase. Teleportation runes had consumed him before he had reached the top step, and he found himself in his sitting room, with Laxus on the sofa, hunched over, crying weakly and trying to stop.

With a small breath, Freed stepped forward and placed a hand on Laxus' shoulder. Laxus tensed, but leaned into it.

"I am so proud of you," Freed whispered. "You were spectacular, and did so well."

Laxus didn't respond. That was how the rest of the night went, until Laxus' tears subsided, and he slept curled up, head resting on Freed's lap. All in all, despite how it had ended, Freed knew that this had been good for Laxus, and was something of a breakthrough for him. As the man gently snored, and Freed ran his hands through his hair, Freed repeated himself in a quiet whisper.

"I am so damn proud of you, Laxus."

---

Freed's Birthday

The singing was a little too much, Freed found.

Discordant, with its volume inversely proportionate to its talent, it sounded somewhat like a bag of cats trying to fight with a set of bagpipes in the middle of a tornado. Well, perhaps that was slightly hyperbolic and fanciful, but he'd had his fair share of champagne throughout the day and as such was allowed to enjoy his creative side.

He'd awoken to his team making him breakfast – pancakes, pain au chocolates, and cinnamon rolls – before he had been taken to the guild. As normal, it was a loud and rowdy affair. The peculiar tradition of his yearly fight with Natsu took place, a grand meal had been prepared, and he'd been sung to. Very very loudly.

Still, it was a nice day. A tradition.

It was good to have Laxus there, too. The blonde had been present for the breakfast, and Freed had expected that would be it for his inclusion of the day. A month had passed since the summer solstice party, and Laxus' time spent in the guildhall was still minimal. Other steps had been made – he'd modelled for Reedus, set up a weekly training session with Gajeel, and went on an incredibly unexpected mission with Happy – but he still struggled with the guild as a whole. He confessed that their team spirit was too much, and it felt like he was intruding.

Freed didn't want to push him. The first party had kicked him into action, and now Laxus was getting to know his guildmembers both old and new, and if doing so one-by-one was what it took then so be it.

But, Laxus had come. He'd eaten, drunk, and Freed had caught sight of him and Gajeel laughing together while the rest of the guild sang at him. It was nice to see, and it had made the signing more bearable. Slightly more bearable, anyway.

Then, the presents came.

As always, they were an onslaught of gifts, some personalised, others more general. Levy had gotten him a first edition copy of 'The Mechanics of Magic', Erza a grindstone to polish his sword on, Reedus a painting containing all of his team and Laxus in the heat of battle, and Lucy a set of quills and ink. He thanked them all graciously, touched by the effort that had been spent on them. His guildmates really were too kind.

The thought made him look up, glancing towards where Laxus had been. Freed hoped that, upon seeing the forgiveness and open kindness he was receiving, Laxus might feel more involved himself. When he looked up, he saw that Laxus had left the guildhall.

Dammit.

He sat through the rest of the gifts, trying to remain focused but unable to feel bad. Eventually they ended, and the party moved onto the next stage: Gajeel and his guitar. If Laxus' departure wasn't excuse enough for Freed to leave the guildhall and go into the courtyard, then the music certainly was.

Once outside, it didn't take him long to find where Laxus had ended up. Freed had hoped that his friend hadn't left altogether, and was gratified when he saw him sitting on the edge of the pool, his boots bedside him and his trousers rolled up. Freed smiled as he walked forward, kicking off his own shoes and folding his own trousers to his knees. He sat beside Laxus, letting his calves rest limply in the cold water in the pool. Laxus shifted a little, clearly in his own head and not having noticed Freed's approach.

"Hey," He murmured quietly. "Sorry I didn't… I couldn't… just got a bit much, y'know."

"I understand," Freed said immediately. "I'm impressed that you managed to-"

"You don't need to do that. I appreciate it, but I don't need you telling me that I'm making steps," Laxus argued, smiling a little. He bumped his shoulder into Freed's, as if to make sure Freed knew he'd taken no offence.

"Very well," Freed nodded. "I'm glad you're here though, it wouldn't have felt right without you."

"I can't let my right-hand man celebrate his birthday without me," Laxus grinned, and Freed chuckled quietly, lifting his foot and watching the ripples that the action caused. "Speaking of which, I should give you this," Laxus leant away from Freed for a moment, reached for something, and handed Freed a hastily wrapped box. He didn't meet Freed's eye when he handed it to him. "I was gonna give it to you in the morning, but wanted to force myself to come here so held off. So, erm, happy birthday."

"Thank you, Laxus," Freed smiled, taking the box with a smile.

"You don't know what it is yet," Laxus grinned a little. "Bicks didn't get you a speedo this year, maybe I wanted to keep up the tradition."

"If you did, then there would be a sense of irony because you'd be the one ended up in the pool," Freed chuckled. "And he did, actually. Somehow, and I can only blame Mirajane for this, he had it baked into my slice of the cake," Laxus barked out a laugh. "It was lime green. In a few years' time I'll have a whole rainbow of them."

"Wonder what he'll do when he runs outta colours," Laxus grinned, before nudging Freed again. "Open it."

Freed did as instructed, and halted a little when he realised what it was. It was an Armillary Sphere. It seemed to be made from solid gold, shining under the lamps strewn across the courtyard. He gently ran his hands over the incremental engravings, adjusting the device slowly with a look of wonderment on his face.

"It's beautiful," He whispered. "How did you…"

"I don't know if you remember, but we did a mission together a couple years back and finished it early. We got pretty pissed after, since neither of us had had a break for a while," Laxus was a little red in the face. "We were lying in a clearing somewhere, looking at the stars. And you suddenly started naming them all, telling me all the stories associated with the consolations. You kept going, you could even figure out our coordinates based on what we could see. You just kept talking about stars, and astronomy and I never forgot it. You mentioned that you used to have one of these in yer old house, and I saw it in an antique store before I came back to the guild and thought you might have liked it."

"It's incredible," Freed was a little breath taken. The fact Laxus had brought it before returning to the guild was just… "Thank you, Laxus. It's… perhaps one of the nicest things someone has done for me."

"Aw don't say that," Laxus laughed a little, but there was a quaver in his words. "Not when I've got the heights of the speedo collection to contend with. And what did Gray get ya? A monocle? Who the hell put him up to that?"

"In fairness, I did gift him a scarf for his last birthday. Which, with him is the equivalent of throwing a pebble into an active volcano with how long it'll stay on his body," Freed chuckled. "I did tell him that, so I suspect the monocle is his act of revenge."

Laxus made a little laugh, leaning back on his hands and watching the ripples across the water. Freed did the same, shifting slightly and allowing his side to press gently against Laxus'. Laxus didn't move, and Freed had a soft smile across his features as he allowed a yawn to split his lips. A party was nice and all, but this was better.

---

Halloween

"Fuck," Laxus gaped as he looked at Freed. "You take this seriously, huh?"

Freed chuckled a little at Laxus' reaction. As demanded by Bickslow, Freed had kept his costume a secret from everyone, including Laxus. That had been a difficult feat, given that Freed had removed his desk and books from his office, turned it back into a bedroom and they had become official roommates. The costume had been tucked away in the back of his closet for a month, and this was the first time anyone other than Freed himself had seen it.

As always, the Raijinshuu went in a themed costume. This year, fighters throughout history. Evergreen had insisted on being a Viking, Bickslow had chosen an old Rune Amry uniform, and Freed had decided on a gladiator.

The costume was hardly the most accurate, historically speaking, but Freed liked it. His torso was covered by a leather chest plate, complete with straps to hold it in place, a single metal shoulder guard, and a red cape that hung to his lower back. His modesty was protected by a tunic which ended above his knees. He had also adorned sandals that wrapped around his legs, and he'd forgone the helmet as it seemed unnecessary in the end. The look was completed with his sword that was attached to his hip, as normal.

"I forgot, you haven't seen any of our costumes, have you," Freed chuckled. "What do you think."

"It's…" Laxus seemed to pause for a moment. "Good. Really good- creative, I mean. You put a lot of effort into it."

"Thank you for noticing," Freed smiled. "Are you ready to go?"

"Give me a couple minutes to change," Laxus dismissed, and Freed frowned as Laxus retreated into his bedroom.

Laxus had been adamant that he wouldn't wear any costumes at all, because he wasn't into that kind of thing. It was what Freed had expected, and honestly he was happy that Laxus was willing to come at all. Laxus had been at the guild more often lately, and Freed felt that maybe his birthday party had helped with that. Perhaps it was nice to know that Laxus could get some time alone, gather his thoughts, but still be a part of the guild's events.

Freed sat on the sofa for a moment, having to adjust his position when he realised that his tunic had a tendency to ride up and show… everything. Better to know now than to make the mistake in the guild where his friends would be delighted to mock him for it.

Maybe he should allow for another anachronism and wear some boxers…

The door to Laxus' room opened, and Freed looked towards him immediately. A spluttering of laughter slipped out before Freed could stop it, and Laxus raised an eyebrow at him, amusement obvious in his face. He stepped forward, spread his arms to better reveal himself, and grinned.

"Just as good as yours, right?" He joked.

It wasn't as good as Freed's. Laxus' costume consisted of a fairly cheap red suit, a white shirt with ruffles of all things, and a pair of red devil horns. It was put together in a rush, had no detail given to it, and was perhaps to most delightful thing Freed had ever seen. One year ago, when Freed had been celebrating the holiday without Laxus, he wondered if the blonde might have scoffed at the Raijinshuu's new found fondness for Halloween. Now, Laxus had a smile that was almost goofy on his face, wearing a costume that he'd made for himself. Freed couldn't ask for more.

"It's certainly a costume," Freed smirked, and Laxus laughed.

"You know, I'm dressed as the devil," Laxus all but sauntered forward, a good look on the man. "And if you're a demon, that kind of makes me your king, right? And, as your king, surely you should show me some respect and kneel for me."

Rather than allow that comment to affect him – boxers really would have been a good idea – he immediately spoke again. "Say that to Mirajane and I'll pay your tab for a month."

"Nah, I like my organs on the inside," Laxus grinned, walking towards the front door.

"You know that the moment Bickslow and Ever seen that you're willing to wear a costume of any kind, they're going to drag you into our tradition whether you like it or not," Freed taunted as he closed the door and locked it behind him. "I'm afraid to say, Laxus, that this," He gestures to himself. "Is your future."

Laxus paused for a moment, then smiled a private smile.

"I can think of a lot of things worse than that, Freed."

---

New Year's Eve

Laxus Dreyar and Lucy Heartfilia were having a drinking contest.

It was perhaps the only thing that Freed had seen that might convince him that miracles were real. But there they were, two pints of beer in front of them both, drinking as if their lives depended on it. Even more ridiculous, Laxus had been the one instigate it. He'd brought the tray of drinks over, looked Lucy dead in the eye and claimed that, if she drank hers before he did his, then he'd pay for every drink she got for all of January.

Freed watched from above, smiling a little as he leant on the banister. As normal, he had spent the party with a glass of red, watching as his guildmates got drunker and drunker, making asses out of themselves for his amusement. It had been perfect, and he was delighted that Laxus seemed to be getting involved.

"Shit," Laxus cussed loudly when he placed his glass down. "Where the hell did you learn to drink like that?"

Lucy said something in return, but it was too quiet for Freed to hear. She had clearly won their wager, and Laxus seemed to be in good spirits despite the financial loss. They spoke for a little while longer before breaking apart, Lucy walking towards her team, Laxus looking around before spotting where Freed had decided to stay.

He took the stairs to the second floor two by two, grinning at Freed widely when he was face to face with him. He wasn't drunk – Freed had seen Laxus drunk before many times – but he was in high spirits. It was nice to see.

"Hey," Laxus greeted. "You still sticking up here, huh?"

"Best place to be," Freed shrugged, leaning on the banister when Laxus was beside him. "You can see everyone stumbling and falling, and there's no chance of one of them vomiting on you."

"You really know how to party, huh?" Laxus teased, and Freed chuckled.

For a moment, they watched over the guild. Their arms lightly grazed one another, and Freed found himself smiling a little. These moments hadn't happened before. Laxus hadn't ever allowed himself to slow down, to enjoy himself. Ever since Laxus had come back, he'd been more… contemplative. He allowed himself moments of calm and time to think, and Freed enjoyed sharing those times with him. Over the last year, he'd spent many hours in silent company with Laxus by his side, and those moments had become very dear to Freed.

"Was talking to Mira," Laxus spoke up again. "Said you made a promise to her, that you'd tell me something before the year ended."

"Did she?" Freed mumbled slightly. He would be having words with the interfering woman.

"She did," Laxus agreed, looking towards Freed with a soft expression. Freed kept his gaze on the guildhall below. "But, between the two of us, I don't think you should."

Freed froze. "You don't."

"Nah, I don't," Laxus agreed. "Because everything you wanna say to me I already know. Have for a while, but I've been too shit scared to deal with it. Not anymore, though."

"Is that so?" Freed asked, not conveying tone. Where was Laxus going with this?

"Yeah. Pushing away my feelings nearly fucking killed me, and it ain't gonna happen again. And the thing is, everything you were gonna say to me, I know I wanna say to you. But I don't think I've gotten to that point yet, so instead I'm gonna ask something of ya."

"Ask what of me?"

"I'm gonna ask you make a promise to me," Laxus stated. "I'm gonna ask that you promise that," he looked to the countdown clock above the door, "in forty nine seconds, you kiss me. I'm gonna ask that you promise to go to dinner with me tomorrow night as my date. I'm gonna ask you promise me you'll let me show you how much I fucking care about you, and how much I know I'm gonna love you the second I can," His voice wavered slightly. "Because I really-"

Freed cut him off, leaning up and cupping Laxus' cheek with his right hand. He leant forward, pressed their lips together and kissed Laxus for the very first time. Bells rang and fireworks exploded around them, but neither man cared. Freed melted into the kiss, and Laxus wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

"I promise," Freed whispered, before starting another incredible, explosive kiss.

#Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #Word Count: 4.2k

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elriel-oblivion · 3 years

Text

So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter.

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

#elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #elriel #acotar

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janiedean · 7 years

Note

'We are not men' was an offhand comment that dany made to missandei, she doesn't really believe that since they are women they are immune to death or some shit, anon should just chill omg. And the prince/princess is confirmed to be genderless from the books, it's not something that d&d invented bc they love dany, actually they know who aar is so it wouldn't surprise me if it's really both jon AND dany

I know it’s from the book but I thought it was a red herring from the moment it happened which is why the whole thing sounded kinda like melisandre wanted to find a way to convince dany but… like… okay listen idk what D&D want to do, but:

grrm usually does a thing which is, ‘when he TELLS YOU SOMETHING REALLY REALLY HARD AND MENTIONS IT ALL THE TIME that thing usually doesn’t happen’.

case: every death not on page and everything cersei says. affc: OH HEY DAVOS IS DEAD HIS HEAD IS HUNG OUTSIDE MANDERLY’S CASTLE adwd: hey bro we killed someone else in your place you’re going to find rickon byadwd: hey mance is dead!jon: …. I’m not sure it’s himadwd: SURPRISE IT WASN’T HIM ACTUALLY!cersei: I’M SURE THIS THIS AND THIS HAPPEN BECAUSE I SAY SOactual reality: all the contrary happensarya: well I left sandor dying on the road he’s definitely a gonermonk on the quiet island: I AM STILL ALIVEarya: sometimes I still hear his voice& so on.

now, never mind tyrion’s sage advice about prophecies (Prophecy is like a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head). What we have in the text is dany seeing R and elia and the following dialogue happens:

“Aegon. What better name for a king… He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire”; “There must be one more. The dragon has three heads.”

AA prophecy:

There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him

When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.

+ tpwp prophecy as melisandre & others put it

You are he who must stand against the Other. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you.

Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy. Not that I would trust it.

Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai come again, the warrior of fire. In him the prophecies are fulfilled. The red comet blazed across the sky to herald his coming, and he bears Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes.

now, either you think that AA is a red herring and tptwp is the real deal or you think tptwp = AA, the prophecies say exactly the same shit about either, so it’s a lot more likely that AA is tptwp and/or viceversa, or that AA is a red herring but tptwp is not. that stated, in order:

prophecies can’t be trusted 100% and no one interprets them well, which is what tyrion’s implying and what everyone does in these books since until now no one’s ever manage to understand one correctly

if GRRM tells you that someone is SOMETHING without immediate proof/verification, he’s most probably lying or red herring you around

R has elements from which he could deduce that if he didn’t have three children for three dragons the long night would come, which was why he started getting ready for it and was that bent on having three children. now, what is he saying in that vision? that AEGON is tptwp. now, as per above, if R thinks aegon is tptwp he’s definitely wrong because aegon is not and whether the one with jonc is fake or not (I think not) he is not AA or twptw. one out. rhaenys is dead, regardless. and what was R’s deal? getting the third head of the dragon in the world… for which he started a civil war. ops. let’s leave it one moment. anyway, R’s prophecy says for sure three things: the apocalypse is coming, you’ll need three dragons to stop it with three riders who should all be targs, and one of his children is AA/tptwp.

obviously, we could say that dany works anyway because she’s a targ so maybe R’s prophecy was wrong. which is most probably half true, because dany’s of course one of the heads of the dragon. but, she isn’t tptwp. why?

because she’s already been brought up by the narrative and everyone that the narrative explicitly brought up is NOT for now tptwp. it’s not aegon. it’s not stannis. and since in affc grrm took the time to put his red herring around with the language question and so on… sorry but it’s not dany. if she was dany, no one would have brought her up as an option, because that’s… not how the narrative works. like, literally, in asoiaf I’ve never seen anything that explicitly stated (that wasn’t dany owning dragons obv but that was the established plot point from the beginning) actually become a thing. you get hints. you get parallels you can theorize on. but like, if the narrative tells you davos dies offscreen davos doesn’t die offscreen, if cersei thinks marge is the younger and beautiful queen she’s wrong and if aemon thinks tptw is dany, she’s not. it’s a red herring. why?

interlude: there’s a thing named occam’s razor which basically says the simplest explanation is the most likely and if your theory needs to be extra elaborate to work, it’s probably not true.

if we follow occam’s razor (which a lot of narrative does because the more convoluted is a theory the least likely is the reader to buy it), we know: that tptwp has to be a thing, that he/she is related to rhaegar and should be one of his children, that he/she has to die among smoke and salt and blah blah blah and that prophecies are half-trained mules and that in order to have three kids R started a civil war, so that third kid must be damned important, and that it’s not R’s second child because R thought he was, and that it can’t be the first since he’s dead.

now: who is actually R’s offspring which has not been mentioned openly in the book until now, who has never ever ever brought up by the narrative itself as a possible AA/ptwp candidate, who has showed up in melisandre’s flames when she asked to see AA thinking she’d see stannis, and, most important, whose canonical death PERFECTLY matches the AA prophecy if you don’t interpret it literally?

The dead man was Ser Patrek of King’s Mountain; his head was largely gone, but his heraldry was as distinctive as his face. [from awoiaf: Patrek is clean-shaven and windburnt. His knightly raiment are of white and blue and silver, his cloak a spatter of five-pointed stars.] Jon did not want to risk Ser Malegorn or Ser Brus or any of the queen’s other knights trying to avenge him.

Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun howled again and gave Ser Patrek’s other arm a twist and pull. It tore loose from his shoulder with a spray of bright red blood. Like a child pulling petals off a daisy, thought Jon. "Leathers, talk to him, calm him. The Old Tongue, he understands the Old Tongue. Keep back, the rest of you. Put away your steel, we’re scaring him.”

Couldn’t they see the giant had been cut? Jon had to put an end to this or more men would die. They had no idea of Wun Wun’s strength. A horn, I need a horn. He saw the glint of steel, turned toward it. “No blades! ” he screamed. “Wick, put that knife …”

… away, he meant to say. When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. “Why? ”

“For the Watch.” Wick slashed at him again. This time Jon caught his wrist and bent his arm back until he dropped the dagger. The gangling steward backed away, his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me. Men were screaming. Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard.

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. [NOTE: tears are made of… salt…] “For the Watch.” He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold…

… and, who has the show confirmed as being r+l?

guys.

it’s jon.

it’s always been jon and it’s always going to be jon on his own. dany will be important af, whoever else rides the third dragon is gonna be hella important (I have a theory which is probably wrong but whatever grrm will have to pry it from me), but tptwp/AA is jon. and R said ‘his is the song of ice and fire’, not ‘the song of ice and fire is for tptwp and AA’. like. it seems fairly obvious textually to me that there’s no way it’s anyone but jon snow, who by the way in theory has had his nissa nissa moment with ygritte if you take it sorta literally and in a lot other ways if you take it very imaginatively.

you’re totally welcome to think it’s both of them, but according to me it’s just him, never mind that dany is all targ, he is half stark and half targ…. so…. ice and fire. like. it’s so trasparent I just can’t think that there has to be something even more complicated to it. *shrug*

#ch: jon snow #janie writes meta #game of thrones spoilers #janie speculates #i guess #ch: daenerys targaryen #like idk guys this book is titled a song of jon snow #the sooner people make peace with it the better #i don't know why we're still arguing it when jon died and came back to life on top of that *shrug*#red herrings everywheeereee #anonymous #ask post #little grunge blueberry

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