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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

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An Ever Fixed Mark (arranged marriage Au)

Part 1 is here, finally! Title a reference to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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Vesemir’s slap hit Geralt firmly on the back of the head. Two seconds previously Geralt had been complaining about his upcoming, politically motivated marriage to some nobleman’s son.

“It’s a good thing, lad. Other witcher schools would kill for something like this,” he said. Geralt knew it was right, legal punishment for those who shortchanged or attacked witchers. It set a precedent, and apparently the earl was very influential. It could change things.

“And there isn’t a fidelity clause,” Eskel said. “It doesn’t have to be more than a sort of partnership.”

“No consummation requirement either,” sniggered Lambert from the other side of the campfire. “You don’t even have to fuck the bugger if he’s ugly.” This earned him a sharp elbow from Eskel.

“What I don’t understand is what they get out of this,” Geralt said. It had been bugging him.

“Ah,” Vesemir said, looking uneasy. “It seems that the payment is...taking the viscount off of the Earl’s hands, officially. It seems he’s something of an embarrassment.”

The unease in Vesemir’s voice was subtle, but after so many decades with their teacher, the wolves of Kaer Morhen knew the slight variations of tone and expression. His discomfort was twofold, first, the obvious implication that the Earl was sending his son to live a dangerous life alongside a witcher in order to...deal with him. A death sentence, from father to son. The second was that Geralt, already saddled with a political marriage, was also to be saddled with a nuisance of a husband.

“But why me?” Geralt knew he was whining like a child, but he couldn’t help it. It was three days to Lettenhove, and then they’d be there at least a week for the wedding and he’d have to act courtly.

He wasn’t good at courtly.

When he thought about it none of them were.

“It couldn’t have been me,” Eskel said, a little shyly. He was right. Eskel believed his scars were horrible, made him unlovable and undesirable. Geralt didn’t buy it, but nobles could get a bit stroppy about appearances. And if they humiliated Eskel because of his scarring...no, Geralt wouldn’t let that happen.

“Couldn’t have been me,” Lambert said, mouth full and rather cheerfully. No. It couldn’t have been him either, no manners and no filter, they’d be at war with the entirety of Lettenhove within a day.

“And I’m an old man,” Vesemir said. He didn’t actually wink, but he might as well have. Older though he was, he was still three times the warrior of any young human man walking about these days. But from what Geralt had heard, and it hadn’t been much, the Viscount was young, not quite twenty, and it wouldn’t be kind to marry him to someone so much older than himself. Geralt reflected grimly that he was nearly four times the youth’s age.

Three days of riding passed far too quickly for Geralt’s liking.

Chateau de Lettenhove loomed. It was a fairytale castle built by a man expecting a siege. There were high, rising towers with huge windows and artful buttresses, but to the trained eye of the witchers, it was a fortress. The towers had carved, decorative arrow slits, the windows all had iron grates over them, wrought like lace, and the buttresses could be easily used as defensive positions. All in all, it was a castle that growled, albeit genteelly.

They were greeted first by a footman, and then a line of servants increasing in rank, until a very snobby servant, likely the head housekeeper from the way all the maids scuttled away from her, brought them to an anteroom. At this point courtesy dictated that she bade them sit down on one of the lavish sofas. She did not. She chose instead to turn up her nose and sweep away.

The four witchers remained standing, not looking at one another. Geralt could feel Lambert stewing about the obvious slight beside him. He reached out, still staring straight ahead, and tweaked Lambert’s ear.

This was about to result in much brotherly retribution and probably a brawl when the housekeeper returned, followed by another woman.

“His lordship the Earl of Lettenhove is attending to vital business,” the housekeeper said, tone of voice implying that the arrival of four witchers who were muddying her nice clean floor were certainly not vital. “I present, her ladyship, Countess Amaria Elizaveta de Lettenhove.”

The countess curtsied, it was a polite little bob, and she smiled a little dazedly as the witchers all gave their best attempt at courtly bows. A small but significant part of Geralt’s brain was panicking, and it dealt with this new form of terror by imagining that the school of the wolf, seen from the outside plying their newly practiced bows, must look like a line of seagulls vying for a dropped crumb.

Vesemir stepped forward and, in a rather more suave gesture than Geralt had been expecting, took the Countess’ hand and bowed over it. Two bows seemed excessive to Geralt, but since it seemed to indicate that Vesemir would be taking over the speaking for now, he certainly wasn’t about to bring it up.

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Vesemir said, straightening and releasing her hand. “May I introduce the school of the wolf. Eskel is--”

The countess had waved a limp hand. “Plenty of time for that at the feast, deary,” she said, smiling dreamily. There was something in her eyes that was a little absent, possibly more than a little if her calling Vesemir ‘deary’ was anything to go by. Geralt looked the countess over. He had been given to understand through the brief letters from the Lettenhove estate, that this wasn’t the viscount-Julian, the letters said-’s mother, but rather his step mother. She was a petite lady with mousy hair and rather absent blue eyes. Her dress was obviously of very fine material, rose pink and probably silk, although Lambert would know better than him, but a simpler cut than Geralt had expected.

His examination, done in a split second, decided that she wasn’t an immediate enemy, but probably not a terrible useful ally.

“I’m to give you this courting gift,” here she proffered a small but beautifully carved wooden box. “And to show you to your quarters.” She smiled again, and it was warm, but still vapid.

“Custom usually dictates that the fiancé give the courting gift,” Vesemir said, cautiously taking the box.”

“My husband wanted someone else to present it,” she said. “But your grandson can give his gift in person when he meets Julian. Now what...” she trailed off, not even noticing Vesemir’s slight sputter at grandson. “Ah yes, your rooms, right this way please.”

She got lost on the way to their rooms and a shaking footman showed them up to a suite, then kindly took her by the hand and led her away.

They sat, silent, in the nice but not lavish quarters. Four beds in curtained alcoves off to the side, and in the middle a room with a table and chairs, and a sofa and more comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace. It was already blazing and the witchers stared into it for a minute.

“That was strange,” Eskel finally said, and the others just nodded.

“Should I have insisted on giving her our courting gift?” Geralt said after another pause. “I thought they were usually given in person.”

“I think you’re fine,” Vesemir said. “If they broke that tradition they can hardly fault you for doing the same.”

Lambert, sprawled across the sofa, said, “When’s dinner?”

“I think I’m supposed to meet Julian first,” Geralt said. “Someone will probably come get us.

“When we meet Julian you mean,” Lambert said, sitting up.

“No, I’ve been thinking about that and I want to meet him alone.”

Vesemir nodded, “Sensible, we don’t know how he will react to one witcher, let alone four.” Then he smirked, although not unkindly, at Lambert. “You will be introduced and have a chance to be nosy later. At dinner perhaps.”

They unpacked their belongings, potion bottles and swords looking out of place along the old but nicely carved furniture. After days of tension on the road as Geralt wound himself tighter and tighter with anxiety for his...wedding, yes his wedding, now this pause was jarring. Eskel tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a look.

Geralt turned around to give Eskel room to work.

On the Path, witchers are rarely, if ever touched. Certainly not in a friendly way if the other isn’t being compensated. It wasn’t therefore, unusual for the wolves of Kaer Morhen to be tactile with one another. Not hugging and cuddling sweetly, but rough housing and wrestling ending in exhausted dog piles. But Eskel had a gift, he had magic hands, literally and figuratively, and he carefully oiled his hands while Geralt took off his travel stained shirt.

Geralt sunk into himself, half meditating as Eskel dragged the tension from his shoulders and beat the knots from his muscles. It wasn’t a relaxing massage, but it always left him feeling like liquid, if slightly bruised. When it was over and the liquid feeling had left him, or at least subsided enough that his knees could hold him, he stood, clapping Eskel on the shoulder in thanks.

Then came the hard bit.

Geralt needed to be courtly. He scrubbed the bits he could with water and a cloth from a little washstand, but he hoped he could have a hot bath later. Afterwards Vesemir advanced on him and battled the dirt from underneath his fingernails with a stiff brush before attacking his hair with a comb. Geralt sat on the ground like a child, his brothers looking on in amusement as Vesemir sat behind him on the couch and teased the tangles from his hair. He was making faces, he knew, but Vesemir wasn’t gentle, and he hadn’t detangled his hair in some time.

Scrubbed raw, with his hair floating around his shoulders like a silver cloud, Lambert presented him with a doublet.

It was black, which was good.

That was the only good thing about it. It was most likely a very nice, extremely fashionable doublet. Lambert might take delight in embarrassing Geralt, but he didn’t mess about with clothing. The issue was that it was attention grabbing, it was subtle in a way that seemed to play itself down while actually drawing every eye. It was black, in the same way a raven’s wing was black, every shimmering shade shifting as the fabric moved.

And he would be wearing it.

He did wear it.

His hands shook as he buttoned it up.

He was just examining himself in a slightly tarnished hand mirror when there was a sharp knock at the door. The footman let himself in right after and bowed swiftly.

“I am to escort the witchers of Kaer Morhen to meet Lord Julian.”

“Just the one witcher,” Geralt said. Vesemir pressed his courting gift, and the little carved boxed nestled on top, into his arms.

The footman didn’t seem to care and simply turned away, leading Geralt through hallways that all looked the same and down two very winding staicases, the second of which was so narrow his shoulders actually brushed the walls. They stopped outside a plain wooden door. The footman bowed and smiled. It looked, Geralt couldn’t help but feel, rather cruel. Then he left. Geralt knocked softly on the door, feeling very large in the narrow, low ceilinged hallway.

Eskel had told him once of a myth he had read, about a beast, half man half bull, hidden away in a maze. Geralt felt like such a beast, too large and rough and probably going to barge in and do everything wrong.

“Come in.”

It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door.

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Oooh I’m naughty for leaving it there, but it’s almost 2000 words already. @llamasdumpsterfire here it is at last, I hope it lives up to expectations.

#the witcher #geraskier #arranged marriage au #vesemir #eskel #lambert #don't worry we'll meet Jaskier in part 2

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

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Of Kings and Beasts - Seven

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Violence, Language (Maybe)

Word Count: 3.7K

A/n: hello friends! Enjoy this plz. also idk what’s wrong but I’m having a hard time remembering things and my brain is just super mush. I think I’m like, malnourished and exhausted but I really don’t know. Goodnight though, I love you all!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

“How many times must I explain this? I hardly remember anything. I could barely see his face through the snow. I know not his name nor his rank, all I know is that he was wearing the armour of a Knight.” You’re getting frustrated now as you explain for what feels like the thousandth time what happened before you ventured out into the snow.

James and Steve exchange glances.

“I did not send for her. And I know you would not trust her safety in the hands of anyone who has not fought alongside you in battle. I believe-” James stops speaking abruptly, shaking his head. He’s not sure who is trying to sabotage his marriage, and he doesn’t want them to know that he knows.

“What?” You ask softly, stepping towards him. He takes a step back and you frown. You’d thought that after the night you had spent with the man that he would be more open to having you, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Nat!” The redhead is in Steve’s office as soon as he says her name.

“I want you or Sam with (Y/n) at all times. You may only leave her side if you are directly dismissed by one of the three of us. Do you understand?” She nods, guilt heavy in her gut at the fact that you could’ve died because of her carelessness.

“Have Clint bring the stable boy here. I want him to give me details. I need to know who the traitor is and why they want my wife dead,” Steve says after a moment, his eyes hard at the thought of someone wanting to bring you harm.

“I’ll go,” James pipes in, avoiding your eyes as he walks to the door, closing it tightly behind himself.

Your shoulders slump and you shake your head sadly. “I had thought that after our night... we may be starting to rebuild our relationship. However, it seems as though he does not wish for that to happen.” Steve sighs, walking around his desk to wrap his arms around your frame.

“He is sad and afraid. He has not been himself for a long while, but he will come back.” Your bottom lip quivers and you curse yourself for being so emotional.

“I do not wish to be the cause of his unhappiness. At times I wonder if it would be better if I stayed away. If I allowed the two of you to continue as if I were not here at all.” Steve turns you around and lifts your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“You are very important to both of us. If he truly wanted you out of the picture he would not have gone out to find you. You matter far too much to the both of us. He will come around again, he just needs some time.”

A knock on the door pulls your attention from him and you sniffle, wiping a stray tear off of your cheek.

“Come in.”

The door gets pushed open and a red-faced young man scurries in, his eyes focused on the ground as he bows.

“Y-you called for me, Your Majesties?” Your heart warms at the obvious nervousness.

“What is your name?” You ask, cutting Steve off. He raises his eyebrows at you and you simply smile, taking a step away from him and towards the boy.

“P-Peter, Your Majesty. A-and I did not mean for any harm to come to you. I was led to believe that the man was indeed a knight of the king and that the business transpiring was none that should involve me. I ask that you are lenient in your punishment, for I truly enjoy my position and I am so grateful that you have given me the opportunity to work here. I-” You raise your hand, silencing his rambling and looking every bit like the queen you are.

Steve watches from behind you, never having seen you truly take control of the title you have.

“You will not be punished for following the orders of someone who seemed to be an honest man. No harm came from it. We simply would like to know if you have any recollection of his name or his rank. Or perhaps a description of his appearance.” The boy stares at you in shock before looking to the King. Steve simply nods and the boy inhales deeply.

“I did not gather his name nor his rank, Your Majesty. But he seemed tall. Not as tall as the King, Mind you, but still taller than most knights. And his build was slimmer, which I found surprising. I should’ve questioned it and I will spend my days regretting that I did not because our Kingdom could have lost its queen due to my carelessness and-”

“Peter, please stay focused,” Steve says. The boy swallows hard and nods, clearing his throat before speaking again.

“He had... dark hair and dark eyes... bared no resemblance to any knight I’ve ever seen before. He lacked the composure of a knight as well. It almost seemed as if he were trying to mimic the actions of one.” You turn to Steve, brows raised at this new information.

“Thank you, Peter. That will be all.” The boy bows again then hurries out of the room.

“So someone was able to pose as a knight? But who? And why? I hardly have a purpose in the kingdom. Why did I become a target?” Steve shakes his head, wishing he had the answers of which you seek.

“I know not. But I will be bringing this up when James and I meet with the council next. Any threat against our wife is a direct threat against our kingdom, and justice needs to be served.” The mention of your other husband has your heart aching.

“Do... do you think he would talk to me were I to find him?” You ask. Steve purses his lips. James seemed so comfortable with you the other night. He hates the thought, but maybe it’s his presence that is making James so distant.

“There is no harm in trying. Have Natalia accompany you.” You nod, gathering your skirts and hurrying out of the room, the redhead hot on your heels.

“I offer you my sincerest apologies, your majesty. I should have been there.” You shake your head at her, smiling softly.

“Do not apologize, Natalia. No one was harmed.” you pause just as you’re about to walk past the glass doors leading to the gardens, a glint of silver catching your eye.

“You may wait here. I fear having any more of an audience will only have a negative effect,” you whisper, pushing the door open and venturing into the snow.

Natalia stands just outside the door, watching with her hand on the hilt of her sword as you walk down the path towards the brooding king.

“James?” You call, waiting until he looks at you.

“You should not be here,” he murmurs, his eyes closing tightly and his hands clenching into fists. He huffs out heavy breaths through his nose, the air forming a misty cloud that dissipates slowly.

“James, please. I cannot stand the distance you put between us. I am begging you to let me in.” He grinds his teeth together, his face contorting in what looks like pain before suddenly going stoic.

He’s quiet for a long moment, long enough for you to slowly approach him, fingers prickling in the cold winter air.

“James?” You ask softly, hoping he’s ready to open up to you again.

His eyes snap open and in a flash of silver, he’s got his metal hand wrapped around your throat, fingers flexing and nearly crushing your windpipe.

Your eyes widen and you instinctively grab at the metal appendage.

His face is devoid of emotion as he lifts you nearly clean off the ground, the tips of your toes hardly brushing the ground. Your lungs burn and tears of pain and discomfort well up in your eyes.

There’s a whooshing sound and then he grunts, toppling to the left and dropping you to the ground.

You collapse in a heap, hands grabbing at your throat protectively as you draw in huge lungfuls of air between painful coughs.

The sound of metal clanging against metal has your eyes shooting upwards just in time to see two swords connect above you, one belonging to the king and the other belonging to Natalia.

“Your Majesty, get back!” She shouts, her eyes on you for a brief moment.

You scramble through the snow, trying to get to the palace and call for help.

James overpowers the redhead with practiced ease, and then his murderous gaze is focused on you again.

Fear freezes you in place and you stare up at him with wide eyes while Natalia is screaming for him to stop, for someone to come to your aid.

His sword comes down right as a powerful hand jerks you to the side.

The blow that was meant to kill you draws a red line across your cheek, blood spilling out and trailing down your chin.

The hot liquid splatters against the frozen snow, melting a hole and staining the white.

For a moment you’re reminded of your place in the world. A stain against purity. A mistake.

You’re wrenched back to reality by hands yanking you backwards, away from where the two Kings fight each other, Steve with desperation and James with determination.

“Come, Majesty.” Nat helps you inside but you don’t move past the doors, heart hammering in your chest as guards rush out to help the blond king.

“Your Majesty, you’re injured. We must-” you shake your head at her, eyes far too focused on the fight.

James manages to knock Steve’s sword away but is quickly distracted by the other men, giving the blond an opportunity to deliver a nasty blow to the back of his head.

The brunet collapses in the snow, groaning and grabbing his head.

You watch with nothing but terror and tears in your eyes as he slowly pushes himself to his knees, familiar blue eyes looking around in confusion.

They land on you, blood on your cheek and fear in your eyes and he nearly throws up as he realizes what he’s done.

“James?” He shakes his head at Steve, stumbling to his feet and hurrying into the Palace.

“James!” He runs straight past you and down the hallway, disappearing after a few moments.

Steve stands in the snow, blue eyes narrowed and pink lips parted. He pants, trying to gather his thoughts while the cold air bites his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

Steve is at your side in a flash, his hand cupping your cheek and angling your head to allow himself to inspect your wound.

“Just a scratch,” he murmurs, brows drawn together as he glances to where his husband was.

Your eyes, however, are drawn to a movement in the garden.

A familiar pair of muddy brown eyes stand out against the snow and you inhale sharply.

“Steve, it’s him.” He follows your gaze to the garden,

“Guards!” He shouts, grabbing his sword and hurrying out into the snow.

“Please, your majesty. I need to tend to your wound.” You finally allow Natalia to drag you away, but not before hearing Steve mention something about the dungeon to one of the guards with him.

~*~

You toss and turn all throughout the night, missing the warmth of your husband and beyond afraid at the events of the day.

Not only were you attacked, but you also potentially caught the man who wants you dead.

The worst part? Steve has given you zero information. No matter how much you asked, he refused to say a single thing about James or the stranger in the garden.

So that is how you have ended up here, pacing through the dark palace halls in search of your blond husband.

As you’re leaving his empty office you hear a whisper of your name, followed by a soft laugh.

You frown and follow the sound, the voice beckoning you closer and yet getting further away every time you approach.

The voice leads you through the halls for what feels like hours until you find yourself in front of a wooden door that nearly blends in with the walls around it.

Steadying yourself with a deep breath, you push the door open. It creaks loudly and you instinctively look around to make sure that no one heard.

Once deeming the coast to be clear, you slowly walk through the doorway and nearly fall.

It’s a spiral staircase going downwards.

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you take the steps one at a time, getting reminded of all the times you snuck around the Palace back home.

Through the darkness, there’s a yellow glow that you identify as candlelight.

You dare not step into the light, so instead, you stay tucked safely around the corner, ears straining to hear... anything.

You make out two voices, one of them far more familiar than the other.

“I am going to ask you one last time: who is it that is plotting against me?” Steve demands.

The other man sounds weak, his breath coming in ragged pants.

You risk a glance around the corner, eyes finding the two in the dimly lit room. Th man on the ground is bloody and bruised and you can hardly recognize him until he speaks.

“You’d best be careful who you allow into your circle, your Majesty. I serve my Kingdom, but not all who are close to you are true to their word. Is it not suspicious that so many terrible events have occurred so soon after the Queen was brought here?” Steve's hand comes down hard against the man’s face and you hold back a gasp.

“If you do not cooperate and answer truthfully, I will rip your teeth out one by one and force them down your throat.”

The man spits blood onto the ground then chuckles weakly.

His bloodied face is too much for you, and you turn on your heel and run up the stairs as silently as you can, hands trembling with fear and disgust as you realize that both kings are brutal in their own sick ways.

“You know I speak the truth. The change in your husband has only occurred since your wife has been here. Has Orlen always been a friend to us? Or have they been trying to get into our Kingdom to take what they wish?”

Steve is silent for just a moment too long, long enough for the man to know he struck a nerve.

“If you wish to kill me, do so. But remember my warning. And do not be surprised when she turns on you, too.”

~*~

He doesn’t return to his chambers for nearly an hour after that, and as much as you try, you cannot fall asleep after what you witnessed.

Sure, you expected there to be consequences, but you never imagined that Steve would torture the man with his own hands.

When he finally returns to you, he climbs into bed without noticing your stiff figure.

His arm comes around your waist as it usually would, and you try your hardest not to flinch away from him.

A single glance down shows you his split knuckles and you have to bite your lip to stop from making a noise of fear.

He falls asleep quickly behind you, and you’re horrified at how comfortable he is with being so brutal to another human being.

~*~

The King paces in his office, the question of the prisoner echoing in his mind.

He had not even considered the possibility of you being responsible for the change in his husband’s demeanour, but it only started since you came to the palace.

A weight settles in the pit of his stomach and he takes a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

He needs to speak to you immediately.

Just as he pulls the door to his study open, you raise your hand to knock.

“Oh!” You gasp, grabbing your chest and taking a sharp breath.

“You startled me. I was just coming to find you. H-have you any news of James?” Your eyes stray down to his split knuckles and Steve takes notice of the tension in your shoulders.

“He’s locked himself in the east wing. He refuses to speak to anyone but doctor banner,” he says, voice stiff and mechanical.

You nod slowly, stepping into the room when he steps aside and motions you to come in.

It’s silent for a long moment, the pressure nearly making your eardrums burst.

You want him to say something, anything. Explain what happened last night or what’s going on today. You’re far too terrified to ask him, however. After witnessing what you did... you do not want to anger him.

That seems to be a futile wish, however.

“Is he alright?” You try, hoping that this is a safe topic.

Steve doesn’t reply. No, instead he paces slowly around the room.

“Do you take me for a fool?” He asks, eyes finding you for the first time.

“What are you talking about?” You’re genuinely curious, trying to think of what you could’ve done to make him ask you this.

“I will ask you again, and this time you will answer. Do you take me for a fool?” He’s walking to you now, steps purposeful and intimidating, a walk that he has practiced and perfected.

You back up a step, fear coursing through your veins. “N-no, of course not. What is this about, Steve?”

“You will address me properly.” You’ve never seen this side of him before. Except for last night.

“I-I don’t think I am understanding... Your Majesty.” You’re not sure if you are more disappointed or sad, but you drop your eyes to the floor.

“Rumours have been spoken, words whispered of a traitor among us. Someone who wishes for the kingdom to fall. Someone close to myself.”

You furrow your brows, taken aback by the accusation.

“And you think me capable of that?” You demand.

He shrugs but his eyes are anything but calm. There’s a fiery storm in his blue eyes, accusation and rage simmering just beneath the surface.

“I hardly know you. It would be foolish of me to think you are anything more than a spy sent by Orlen.” Your heart hurts and you need to take a few deep breaths before you speak.

“I have been nothing but loyal to you, your husband, and your kingdom. Who might I even have to conspire with? I have not been allowed near the people, and I fear my own ladies because their loyalties lie with you.”

Your words ring with truths that even you didn’t consider until now. Steve opens his mouth to speak but you do not allow him a turn.

“I have not breathed a word of the brutalities I have experienced at the hand of your beloved. I have not even dreamed of leaving the castle walls for fear of what consequences would await such thoughts. From the moment I arrived, I have been treated like dirt and yet you stand here with the audacity to question my loyalties!”

He’s taken aback for a moment. He wants to trust you, he really does, but he just can't. Not after what the man said last night. It makes too much sense that you would do this.

“You speak of rumours... as if you do not have your own to worry about. Your brutality is spoken of throughout the continent. Clearly, the rumours hold true, for your brutality extends far beyond the lines of the battlefield. The kings show no mercy, not even to their wife in the privacy of their bed chambers.”

He grabs your forearms tightly, face full of fury.

“You will watch your tongue, woman!” You huff out a breath and shake your head, face contorting in pain as his grip tightens.

“You are so quick to accuse me when you were nowhere to be found in a time that I needed you.” His brows raise nearly to his hairline.

“Are you implying that I had a hand in that?” He demands, a vein in his forehead throbbing as he only gets more furious.

“I imply nothing, your majesty. I am simply taking note of the fact that you were conveniently away during a time when I was in peril.”

His hand comes up before he can register what’s happening, and then you’re tumbling to the floor, the crisp sound of a slap ringing in his ears.

Your hands tremble and your cheek burns. You stay rooted in place, eyes squeezed shut in fear as he towers over you.

He stands before you, chest heaving and eyes wide with horror at himself.

“Your actions only further prove my point,” you whisper, blinking your eyes open to suppress your tears.

“And do yours not prove mine?” He counters, glaring at you as you rub your aching wrists. Seeing you cower beneath him, so small and so fragile, his anger starts to melt away.

“I would like to remind you, Your Majesty, that I do not benefit from being here. I have only traded one prison for another, and I am not sure how much longer I will endure such treatment.”

He opens his mouth to speak, one hand extending to help you to your feet. His eyes find a line of red on your cheek and he glances down at his hand, the mark on your cheek matching his wedding band.

Now you have matching scratches on either side of your face.

“Do not touch me,” you hiss, glaring up at him with wet eyes.

He’s crouching down when there’s a knock on the door. Sam pushes it open without waiting for an invitation but the look on his face is enough for Steve not to snap at him.

“There’s been an attempt on Doctor Banner’s life.”

#king au #king!bucky #king!steve rogers x reader #king!bucky x Princess!reader X king!steve #king!Steve X reader #king!steve x reader #dark!au #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #darkfic #Steve X reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark au #steve x reader dark fic #Bucky Barnes x reader dark au #bucky x reader dark fic #Steve rogers x reader dark fic

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nanaminokanojo · 3 years

Text

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 2/8

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The sun hasn’t even risen when Nanami came to consciousness as usual. It did not matter whether he was on vacation or working, he just automatically wakes up at the same time each and every morning without miss. It’s regardless of whether he slept enough or not. He saw no point in tarrying in bed – it was unproductive – and immediately got up without skipping a beat in his routine.

“You’re too vanilla,” he remembered you commenting when you stayed one weekend at his place in the city for an art symposium, having met him on the hallway on your way to bed after staying up all night playing video games. He just brushed your remark off with a grunt back then, but at present, he couldn’t help but muse over the fact that everything he did reminded him of you.

It was a bit light outside when he emerged from the adjoining bath of the guest room. He threw on a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt and grabbed a water bottle and a small towel on his way out of the room, mind set on going for a run. If there was something great about staying at Gojo Manor, it was the fact that it was surrounded with acres of grassland and forest with trails great for walks and jogs.

Nanami particularly grew fond of the path that led to the lake at the bottom of the hill where the mansion stood. There was a direct view of it from the balcony at the back of the structure, appearing like a jewel in the middle of the woods, and it had always been his favorite spot. The late former clan head told him it was man-made and has been there for more than a century that it became a natural feature of the estate. It was a spot in the property with a great history and great value to the clan, thus his gravitation towards it.

It’s her favorite place in the whole estate, too, he thought indulgently.

Inhaling deeply, he set out to the back doors that led to the patio and the walled gardens, starting in a slow jog before building his momentum as he reached open grounds.

And thus, his day began as such.

He came back from his run when it was already too hot, heaving deep breaths and desperate for a shower as his white shirt and grey sweats stuck to his body, drenched in sweat. His leg muscles ached, but it had been a good run.

Greetings from the staff met him as he reentered the manor which he returned with polite nods. He was headed to the stairs when he passed by the breakfast room and happened to hear Gojo talking to you. It went against his principles to eavesdrop in an evidently private conversation but he stayed rooted on his spot upon hearing you speak.

Despite your seeming foul temper upon leaving him the previous night, you seemed to have bounced back to your usual self, your tone sounding more jovial than usual. Your words were at odds to your tone as you told Gojo not to piss you off so early in the morning.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Kento?" Gojo asked just as the person in question was about to pass the doorway.

"It's really none of your business," you responded, voice devoid of any emotions. He did it, Gojo. He finally fouled up your mood.

"But I'm your brother!" Gojo protested, acting all dumb around you again. He just had that complex where you were concerned. He has always been very soft on you yet he was also fiercely protective. You hated his attention though. Yours was a strange dynamic.

"Worry about your wedding, will you? Geez. Don’t you have a luncheon to host?"

"Why did you kiss him then? On the mouth no less!"

Nanami’s heart skipped a beat, anticipation rising like cold water from his toes going up his chest. He wanted to hear what you had to say. Fuck principles. He needed his answers, too. It did not matter in what way he was getting them at that rate. He was secretly hoping you will say something a little bit more revealing about what goes inside your head given that he cannot just pry inside it even if he wanted to.

"Because I wanted to." You stated it so matter-of-factly that Gojo was at a loss for words for a moment. “Didn’t you hear me? I was dying to do that since he arrived.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“You tell me.” That’s becoming your signature line. “You won’t understand unless you kiss, Nanamin, too,” the tenor of your words turning fanciful. “He has such an alluring taste to him.”

What is this woman on about?

“Oh, god, stop it!”

"You should have seen the looks on your faces though. I was half expecting your eyeballs to roll on the floor. Wouldn’t that have been grand? It’s definitely shocking but a good subject for art if not a medium." At that, you laughed, the sound hitting Nanami like tinkling bells. It was such a happy sound that reminded him of better days although the thought that prompted it was utterly macabre. “Maybe that should inspire my next work. It would be like Munch’s The Scream, the next of its kind.”

"Hmm. Good point…” Gojo mumbled, sidetracked, obviously sharing your sentiments on the idea of such grotesqueness, but regained his composure just as quickly. “It's not funny!"

"But it is." Your laughter subsided as quickly as it erupted from your throat as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Your capricious nature was surfacing once more, and if there was something that was more frightening than your strong, habitual liking for trifling with people, it was that. "So what if I have other intentions behind it? Are you gonna get mad at me or something?”

"Well, do you?!" Gojo sounded like a manatee on the throes of death.

“But what are you going to do, brother? Stop me perhaps?"

He of all people should know just how unstoppable you were when you have set yourself into doing something. “N-no –”

“And what if Nanamin has the same intentions? What will you do then?”

“Hey, that’s enough of you. I know you’re trying to trap me into saying something again.” He clucked his tongue. “I seem to be the only one who isn’t in on your games, and if it is one, I have to know. You’re just way too outrageous these days that I cannot tell what’s serious and what’s not anymore.”

Gojo took a deep breath, sounding distressed as he exhaled. “Is there something else going on?”

"Maybe,” you answered noncommittally.

"That's not an answer at all!" he snapped.

You clucked your tongue, sounding irritated. "Stop screaming, Satoru."

"Do you like him?"

“Is your emphasis on that word supposed to change its meaning?”

If Nanami’s heart was skipping earlier, it has now stopped completely, robbing him of air as it seemed to have affected his lungs, too. You were maddening, not only to Gojo but to him as well. It was evident that you were in your gaming mood again, and although you were only intentionally riling your brother, he was also directly in your line of assault.

Gojo sighed in defeat, mirroring Nanami’s feelings. “Y/N, please, just answer the question,” he whined.

“I guess.” There was a pause then you said, "I mean, what's not to like?"

"What?!"

“Like it or not, Nanamin is a very excellent specimen of the male populace. He’s fucking irresistible and that’s an understatement.” You scoffed. "Even you like him."

Your voice was followed by your footsteps as you neared the door. In a daze at your vocal expression of how you find him physically attractive, instead of backtracking, Nanami stepped forward and collided with your form, nearly knocking you off your feet. He was after all twice your size and a good foot taller than you.

"Careful," he said between deep breaths, one arm securing you by the waist while his other arm gripped onto the door jamb, the position making the veins and sinews of his arm rather pronounced.

“Speak of the devil…” You straightened up, not making any effort to hide the fact that you were checking him out. Your head turned towards the direction of the breakfast room, making him mimic the action only to see Gojo standing slack-jawed, watching what was unfolding before him with eyes wide with shock. Nanami could've sworn his best friend just went into a state of catatonia.

"Didn't see you there," you said, addressing Nanami, your blue eyes assessing him as if in suspicion.

"I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath, feeling the tips of his ears heating up. Before you could notice, he stepped aside, heading towards the direction of the stairs.

"Hey, Nanamin," you suddenly called, making him halt and turn his head to your direction. You were smirking at the direction of your brother as you said, "Nice ass."

He shook his head. It was really just a ploy to get to Gojo’s nerves, and he was your pawn.

The sound of graphite scratching on paper like a harsh slash of sword punctuated the impending absence of thought in your mind. Nothing mattered but the sight of your hand gripping a pencil as it created unintelligible strokes on the plain page of the sketchbook on your lap. It progressed to furious scribbling, your movements becoming faster, the sound dominating your corner of the room. Everything has been drowned out – the endless chattering, the sound of porcelain and silverware hitting each other in chaotic cacophony – heightening in a painful crescendo of auditory abomination and dying in the air, overwhelmed by the picture you were creating on the blank expanse of space.

“You must be so proud of your daughter.”

Scratch.

“Who wouldn’t be? It must be great to have geniuses for children”

Scratch.

“She’s just as famous as Satoru.”

Scratch.

Just like that, they didn't exist. The room was empty save for you and the view outside the window coming to life on paper. Your eyes darted from your sketch to the familiar yet equally exhilarating view just outside the parlor. Gojo was animatedly talking about something, easily excitable as always. His fiancée laughed on the side while Nanami was witheringly eyeing him, stoic as always. Shoko, who arrived the previous evening, also joined the group. All that was missing was Geto. You wondered if you should draw him somewhere in the sketch.

The image before you reminded you of those days when reality seemed far away, back when Gojo was still a student, exceptional as always but still young, not the renowned genius tycoon he was at present. His friends would always be around him, lounging around the manor like they hadn't a care in the world.

His crowd grew in number with Geto and Nanami being the two closest pals he had. Shoko joined in shortly in middle school. On the other hand, Utahime came during his university days, also starting off as Gojo’s friend and eventually becoming his girlfriend. Now they were about to get married and it seemed to punctuate all the changes that came with being the grown-ups that they are.

It scared you.

Fact is, growing up and growing old and the changes that come with it was terrifying. Even if you yourself were already twenty four, seemingly had your life together and appearing to have matured without a hitch, that wasn’t the case at all. Genius or not, your brother also had his issues even while he was rising to his current position in society.

The problem was within you, you knew it. That and the fact that you did not really know what growing means. Your work grew, matured like crazy. You didn’t think you yourself grew, stuck in those days when everything was relatively easier. At least then, you only had to worry about your classmates hating on you. Now a part of the public did.

Looking at Gojo and his gang, they’ve all handled that well, making you wonder how they did it. He is one of the youngest CEOs in the country, having built his business empire at just seventeen. Your future sister-in-law is a professor, Geto is a sought-after model and Shoko is a forensic pathologist. They were all great at what they did, struggled as well, but came out with perfect grace.

However, you think the best one out of them was none other than the object of your pining – Nanami Kento. The man made transitioning to adulthood look rather easy. Maybe it was because he had always been mature and held himself in perfect equilibrium. Sure, he was no Gojo Satoru, but he was innately intelligent and became one of the youngest barristers who held the position of a famous attorney’s partner. He handled controversial cases and is one of the best prosecutors in the country with a high winning percentage. His work aside, he seemed to have the least struggle out of everyone.

Your lips curled up at the corners at the thought of the man. Your gaze flicked to him from the sketchbook, sitting there with a beverage in his hand, the noon sun glimmering on his hair and the planes of his face, looking more laid back without a blazer on. He was dressed rather casually in a pair of khaki trousers and dusty blue button-ups, but he still looked smart. He always dressed that way which you found very attractive although seeing him in more casual clothes like that morning was another level of hot altogether. He’s quite a bit formal, making him seem monotonous, but it’s that consistency that you liked about him. It was only a bonus that he was devastatingly handsome with those sharp features and the suits made him look so sexy in that it left everything about his real physique to imagination.

One just could not get enough of him, at least you couldn’t, but you did see how his partner’s paralegal eyeballed him all the time. (You secretly wanted to gouge her eyes out.) That’s the kind of man Nanami was. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it leaves profound dents to one’s psyche. And man, was he hot in court! He’s fucking sarcastic when he wants to be, to the point of being vile, but one just can’t get offended with the kind of logic he has. Once he speaks his mind, one wishes he wouldn’t stop, but he does and leaves that person craving more, his hypnotic, deep voice a rare treat. He wasn’t big on actions, wasn’t expressive, but when he does something, it’s always with purpose and precision, never over the top and always with disciplined stoicism.

You chuckled quietly, your pencil drawing perfect strokes of his hair when you were pulled out of your trance.

“Yuuji!” you heard Gojo say, pulling your attention to the direction of the window.

You broke into a grin at the mention of the name, hurriedly getting on your feet and running out of the room, deaf to your mother’s protests against your unladylike behavior – the commotion foreign to the ladies in the room who moved with the minutest rustles. You made your way out to the patio, that familiar tuft of pink hair coming into your line of vision. You sprinted through the glass doors towards the person whose name your brother called, smile wide and genuine.

“You kept me waiting long enough,” you called out, voice louder than usual. You’re hardly ever giddy nor were you easily excitable like your brother, but Itadori Yuuji was a different story altogether. You loved the boy with a fierceness akin to a mother and were always ecstatic to be around him but suppressed it by acting gruff. You were crazy like that.

“That’s because you won’t help me with my final requirements,” he retorted good-naturedly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and nuzzling the back of your head as if you were a fuzzy plush toy, making you drop your drawing implements. Well, you were considerably smaller than him, and he was probably the only one who could do that to you and get away unscathed.

You rolled your eyes, noticing how Gojo had picked up your stuff, looking at the page where it was opened. “You should exert yourself more. You’re no genius after all.”

“That’s mean!”

You smirked at him, your eyes straying to your brother who was smiling at your drawing. He had such a proud, fond look on his face that you couldn’t do anything but stare. He has always been ever since you first held crayons and drew him as a cat. “You even included Suguru,” he cooed, pointing at the missing person you included then proceeding to show it off to his friends. “Guys, look. My baby sister drew us.”

“Surprise, surprise,” you sallied, but you were happy that he’s always showing you off.

Utahime and Shoko stood beside him, also looking at the sketch. The latter raised a thumb at your direction. “Damn, kid. You’re really great at what you do. How do you make things come alive with just a pencil?”

You smiled awkwardly. “I –”

“Give it here,” Nanami suddenly butted in, hand reaching for the sketchpad which Gojo promptly handed him.

You felt Yuuji elbowing you while you stood there, observing the man who was in possession of your drawing.

Nanami blinked then, handing it back to you. “How come I don’t have a face?” he asked, expression expectant of your response.

Annoyed, you snatched it back from him.

“It’s obviously not finished yet,” Shoko commented, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was not that you cannot, but you would never draw his face. Ever. You tried tons of times if the tens of pages of sketchpads at your apartment filled with different angles and parts of him would be a basis for that. You could draw everything else about him, just not his face. No amount of contemplation and practice helped you to know why, but you attributed it to the fact that you could not do his face justice, at least in the sense that you would not be able to bring it to life as Shoko said.

Finally, you said, “I didn’t feel like drawing your face.” You turned away, dragging Yuuji with you. The boy was still giggling like a hyena until you got to the second-floor balcony where you propped yourself up on the balustrade, looking sulky.

"You might fall there, you know," he commented, jumping up the marble balustrade to join you.

"I can say the same for you," came your quiet reply. "Where's Megumi?"

“He’ll be here before lunch.” Yuuji leaned close to you with a mischievous grin on his face. “What, or rather who, is that look on your face for?”

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Did you tell Nanamin?" He addressed the man just as you did and got away with it, too, for some reason.

"Tell him what?"

He scoffed playfully. "Are you seriously playing this game with me? I'm your best buddy. I know everything."

"As irritating as that is, it's true."

Yuuji pouted at you. "I heard what you did yesterday. Why do you have to make games out of everything?"

"That's how I communicate. I thought you knew everything."

Harsh as always, he thought. "Be a normal person for once and just tell him." His brows knit together. "Well, you're anything but normal," he mused aloud. “I meant that nicely.”

You blew a raspberry. "You're just as normal as I am if you claim to be my best friend. Which you are. No take backs."

Yuuji couldn't help but smile at that. You have always been a loner and you did not mind being alone. He was grateful you wanted him around despite that.

"But you should stop doing this. He wants you. It's obvious."

"It's not that simple."

"What isn't simple? If it's Satoru, he'll understand for sure if you just try to be honest. I'm sure he just isn't for it more because he doesn't know how you feel. I mean, if I were him, I'll also protect my baby sister from my male friends. That's just how it is."

You blinked, pivoting your whole body so you were facing him.

"Well, of course, Nanamin needs to fight for it, too," he was quick to throw in, rambling to himself when he suddenly felt you reach out towards him, gently running your fingers through his pink hair. He leaned towards your touch, smiling contentedly.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"I'm not –"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you seriously playing this game with me?" you asked, mimicking his words earlier. "I'm your best buddy. I know everything, one of them being the fact that you worry worse than my mother."

Yuuji jumped off the balustrade, reaching out to grab you in a bear hug despite your protestations. Just like how you were with everyone else, you shunned his affection, but he knew better than to let go when you were saying exactly that. He found that trait of yours adorable.

"You're so irritating," you hissed, flipping your platinum white hair over your shoulder when you finally managed to get off his grip but he wrapped an arm over your shoulder nonetheless, undeterred by your words.

"You know you love me."

"Shut up."

Yuuji pouted. "You sound like Megumi."

"I heard that," the person in question suddenly spoke from the direction of the entry, his deep voice making you and Yuuji turn towards him. "They're calling everyone for lunch."

Yuuji followed behind as you approached Megumi, also one of your closest friends and practically your brother, keeping you in check more than Gojo ever can.

"Guess what," Megumi said to you as you walked beside him. In one of the rare moments you would see it, he grinned and you knew it wasn't because of anything good.

"What?" you and Yuuji, who thought the same by the look on his face, chorused.

"Nobara switched your name card with Miwa's. You're now seated next to your man candy. You're welcome."

“Isn’t that more of a perk for Miwa? She’s scared shitless of Nanamin, you know.”

The three of you laughed while Yuuji could just shake his head at the inescapable trouble that will follow. His only consolation was that it’s fun when it involves you.

What were the odds, Nanami thought to himself. He didn't have to look twice to see whose name it was on the card on the spot next to him. He exhaled loudly, unfolding the napkin and placing it on his lap. This could only lead to hullabaloo he was not exactly in the mood to deal with especially after you just told him you did not feel like drawing his face. You sure were mean when you wanted to be.

He surveyed his vicinity. Your father, the current head of the clan from whence your blue eyes came from, was seated at the head of the table, your mother to his right, while Utahime’s parents sat to his left. It seemed to have been the only formalities observed in the arrangement. From across Nanami sat Utahime and Gojo while on his right were a couple he only knew as cousins to the Gojo main family.

He was internally pinching the bridge of his nose. You really had to be the one seated next to him and right across your annoying brother, too.

The luncheon started without you. It wasn't a formal gathering after all except they were serving a full-course meal. It was more of a way to get everyone to know one another over the week for some reason he cannot fathom, and he was glad that only your father was the one who had engaged him in a conversation, mostly about work. It was easy enough to deal with.

"Where are Y/N and her friends?" your mother asked Gojo out of the blue.

Utahime, answering for the clueless person beside her, pointed towards the direction of the door to the banquet hall where you were leisurely walking towards your designated seat with Yuuji and Megumi. The former rounded the table to sit next to Gojo.

"Still managing to be late even when you're already at the venue, baby sis?" Nanami heard Gojo say as you assumed your seat. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted from Nanami to you that your tardiness wasn't exactly the problem.

You blatantly ignored his comment and turned your attention to Nanami. "Had a good run this morning, Nanamin?"

"Just so," he answered, side-glancing at you.

"Yeah. You looked super hot this morning," you said just as Gojo was taking a sip from his wine glass.

Megumi snorted when the older male started choking on his drink while Yuuji was trying hard not to laugh.

Nanami knew he would have reacted the same way except that he had been bracing himself for whatever you will say the moment Gojo opened his mouth. Of course you will use him in your counter attack. It's yet another game, not that he was less affected by your words.

"You should have seen him, Iori," you continued, addressing your brother's fiancée. "He looks so much less uptight in casual clothes."

It didn't escape Nanami’s notice how Gojo was looking at him. He looked about ready to drop onto the floor, but paid him no mind as he leveled his mouth to your ear. "Y/N, let's not make your dear brother snap, shall we?"

"Oh, sweetheart, maybe that's what he needs right now," you deadpanned, meeting his gaze squarely, your disposition unreadable as you let your eyes linger on him longer than was deemed appropriate.

Yuuji finally laughed, earning him a kick to the shins under the table courtesy of Megumi.

What it was about you that made everything else irrelevant and nonexistent when you’re that close to him was something beyond him. You always made him lose control, tempted him to break the rules. He only knew he couldn't act on it. Most of the time anyway. He also felt like laughing, oddly enough.

Utahime just chuckled good-naturedly breaking the tension. "Since the two of you are here, I should tell you that the final fitting for your clothes for the wedding is this afternoon. So, you better go together at the shop."

"Traitor." Gojo pouted at Utahime but nobody was really paying attention to him anymore. For someone so important to society with a flawless image, the closest people around him sure were good at disregarding him when they deemed it fit.

"Okay," Nanami said, looking at you for confirmation.

It was you who looked away this time. "I'm free."

"That's set then." Utahime clapped her hands and to Nanami she cheekily said, "Maybe wear something less formal."

At that, you grinned wickedly at him. So much for avoiding trouble with you.

-end of part 2-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

If you want to be included in the tag list, please DM me :)

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

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7spaceace7 · 3 years

Text

By Fireflies’ Glow (Bagginshield)

Soooo I made a Bagginshield fic based off of this post and it’s on my Ao3 if you prefer to read it there, but here it is! The firefly scene didn’t make it into the movie’s cuts, so I made it myself and made it gay for good measure.

Word count: 2237

Warnings: None, unless you count unreasonable amounts of pining

Rivendell’s magnificence only extended into the evening, after the last light of day passed over the mountains surrounding it. Streaming waterfalls cascaded over the cliffs below, leading into rivers and streams down past the elven borders. Dusk crept up on Eastern skies in parallel to the setting sun, until the moon above followed its path high into the sky. Where there was sunlight cast into the water, silver moonlight now shone upon its surface. Bilbo had never seen an evening so beautiful, not in all his years.

The beauty of Rivendell had so captured him that the hobbit had spent nearly all his time wandering about the kingdom. While his dwarrow companions dined together, Bilbo explored the main halls of Rivendell, and the hobbit was quick to continue his self-guided tour just after Thror’s map had been translated. There was no doubt that Bilbo had fallen in love with the Valley of Imladris. He had to see as much as he could before their journey picked up once more.

At least, that was his excuse to distract from the real reason he had put distance between himself and the others. In truth, he did not feel welcome at their table. Bilbo was acutely aware of his outsider status to the dwarves; he may have been a contracted burglar of this company, but the hobbit knew he was still viewed as little more than a burdensome stranger without any experience of the larger world. The worst part was that he couldn’t blame them.

It was no secret he was inexperienced. What he had in his skills of gardening and baking (the best cakes from scratch in the Shire, you see), he lacked in the practical adventuring repertoire of sword fighting and travelling across Middle Earth. He was a Baggins of Bag-End after all, such respectable hobbits didn’t just up and leave on journeys with strange dwarves who ate his pantry stock.

But then, Bilbo supposed he wasn’t a respectable hobbit anymore. He had left that title behind as soon as he grabbed his signed contract and rushed out of his rounded door all that time ago. Instead, he was a member of a perilous quest to slay a dragon and reclaim a dwarven kingdom. However, the title of “adventurer” didn’t seem to belong to him either.

Another rounded corner of the path led Bilbo to find himself back where his exploration had started in the gardens. He hadn’t meant to come this way again, but it seemed his feet had started wandering on their own when the hobbit became lost in doubt. Bilbo didn’t mind, though.

The gardens of the elves were some of the most enchanting he’d ever seen. Hedges encircled the area, trees sprung up their lanky limbs that seemed to welcome all who ventured there. It was well-kept, organized, and filled with flowers of all colors he’d only ever seen in books. The colors seemed to glow by moonlight as well, transforming into translucent blues, purples, and greens. Bilbo used to daydream about places like these from reading his books, wondering what it would be like to live in a place where such beautiful things can grow. Lord Elrond’s offer of staying in Rivendell returned to his mind.

“Master Baggins,” Came the rough voice of Thorin Oakenshield, pulling the hobbit from his thoughts in surprise. Bilbo’s head turned to see that the gardens had already been occupied by said dwarven king, who sat upon the backless, stone-carved bench alone. He held an expression that Bilbo could not place. At the least, it was not a glare or look of disdain toward him as usual. “I was beginning to think you’d run off. You made quick leave after reading the map. You weren’t at dinner, either.”

“You’re right, I was..”The hobbit shifted to his other leg. The words didn’t find him to explain that he didn’t think himself welcome in their company. Exploring didn’t seem much like a Baggins pastime either, so Bilbo’s sentence hung unfinished. “I didn’t realize someone else was here. I expect you wish to be left alone, I’ll take my leave-”

“The others are resting,” Thorin said before Bilbo could take even a step away. His gaze turned away from the hobbit and back to the open trees. “I couldn’t find sleep.”

“...So you came here?”

Thorin bowed his chin in a nod. The halfling recalled many sleepless nights of his own being comforted by the fresh air found in his garden back home. He allowed himself to wonder if this was something he and the dwarf had in common.

“I never took you for a lover of nature.”

Perhaps on better terms, Thorin might have seemed amused. “I assure you, I am not. The gardens just happened to be far enough away from the sounds of Bombur’s snores.”

“I see. It is rather peaceful. In the gardens, I mean.”

“Indeed.”

Moments of silence stretched between the unlikely pair while the two admired their surroundings, even if Thorin wouldn’t admit to elvish work capturing his attention. Bilbo remained awkwardly at the steps of the garden where he was first stopped. He didn’t mind standing since Hobbits had more resilience in being on their feet for long amounts of time, but to Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin made room on the bench beside him.

The halfling’s lips twitched in figuring what to say, should he say anything at all. Finally he decided that he ought to try and test the waters. If Thorin was offering him a place to sit, he would take the opportunity and see where it took him. The Tookish part inside told him that this could be his chance to reconcile their strained first impressions. Bilbo walked over and took his seat at the far end of the bench.

“I have my own garden, back in Bag-End,” He started, after the silence became too heavy to hold any longer, “You might have seen it when you arrived that night. It’s certainly not as impressive as this, but then I’m just one hobbit compared to many elves. Besides, it has all the flowers I really need, all of my favorites. The Shire has perfect weather for my hydrangeas best of all.”

The dwarf didn’t speak as he watched him ramble. Bilbo didn’t think Thorin much the type for listening about gardening techniques and therefore spared the details, but a quick glance over to the dwarf proved that he was, indeed, listening. Still silent as ever, but this was a bit different. The exiled king seemed at peace for once. Like he was grateful to hear of a hobbit’s silly affinity for plants instead of a mountain kingdom to be reclaimed.

It was a sight Bilbo found himself having trouble looking away from. He willed himself to focus on the fireflies gathering around the bushes instead.

“Gardens were not to be found in the mountain,” Thorin’s voice softened at the mention of his old home. He always regarded the Lonely Mountain with careful, almost protective, thought. Bilbo’s eyes settled back on the dwarf and clung to every word. “Nothing grows underground, of course. No grass or soil to grow it, and there was no true light, save for the forges and fires burning.”

“None at all? Did you never go outside..?” Bilbo asked. He had known dwarves were the type to mostly stay underground, but such a concept still seemed so foreign to him. Hobbits were known to spend practically all of their time outdoors, and there was light everywhere he could remember. Thorin, however, shook his head.

“Dwarves in that time were born into the darkness of caves. They grew used to seeing rock instead of sky, and I was no different. From the moment I could walk, my time was devoted to training, watching my grandfather as he ruled so I could one day take his place. Learning of the kingdom and its people, of how to protect and serve them, everything a young prince must know,” Thorin explained. His eyes cast toward the ground as he hunched over, deep in thought. It seemed a painful memory sprung from his words without his meaning to. “There was no time for anything but such duties, especially as my grandfather’s health began to fail...”

Thorin trailed off with regret held in his eyes.

“There was little I knew of the world outside of Erebor’s halls, and that’s how it would have stayed were it not for the snake residing there now,” The exiled king finished with bitten words. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“I have no need of your pity,” Thorin’s words were said without malice. Instead, they were filled with shame, like he believed he did not deserve sympathy. Like this horror was his fault, somehow. “Especially from someone who knows a very different life.”

“Actually, it doesn’t sound completely different.”

The dwarf’s taken aback look was all he needed to continue.

“I mean, I certainly wasn’t an heir to a kingdom, but in the Shire you didn’t go much of anywhere else. Sometimes to Bree if you were the type, but that would get you odd looks from the rest of town, and by no means were you considered the respectable sort. In fact, I’m sure by now I’ve probably been declared mad beyond all reason, going off on adventures with strange dwarves and a wizard.”

The light brown curls framing Bilbo’s face bounced when he chuckled. Thorin found himself wondering why he noticed this.

“Hobbits simply don’t care much for learning what outside the Shire borders holds. We don’t get visitors, and we don’t do any visiting of our own. So..I suppose in that regard, I understand not knowing much else but what expectations you’ve been born to,” Bilbo finished with a hesitant smile. It was a smile simply for Thorin in that moment, reserved for his eyes and his eyes alone. And yet, the dwarf looked away, startled by its intimacy.

“I see both our clans have deemed us mad, then,” Thorin said, clearing his throat to hide the sudden topic shift.

“How do you mean?”

“The other dwarrow leaders called our quest a fool’s death sentence. I made mention of it before we left your home, but in truth they did not use as-- encouraging-- words as I led the others to believe,” The words of mockery bounced back bitterly to the forefront of his mind. “They believe we won’t make it alive to even reach the mountain. It is why we take on this task alone.”

Bilbo’s mouth twitched in thought again. “Well,” He began, “Perhaps they’re right.”

Thorin’s shock bubbled up instantly, paired with a list of insults in Khuzdul that he had half a mind to repeat from the aforementioned dwarrow council. The hobbit knew that look and raised his arms in defense.

“What I mean to say is, yes, perhaps you won’t reach the mountain, perhaps that’s how we’re fated to finish, but,” Bilbo took a breath, calmed his nerves, “It is still a noble cause to see through the end. And I know each of those who’ve followed you this far would agree. Anyone who doubts you hasn’t got the courage to see it as such.”

Thorin’s eyes softened. He looked down at the smaller creature, such a curious thing by anyone’s standards. A hobbit of the Shire, fond of books, green gardens, and the comforts of home, and yet it is he who has remedied his doubts of his birthright.

“...Thank you.”

Bilbo simply nodded. Even if he himself wasn’t fit for this journey, he truly did hope these dwarves would succeed. They’d all lost so much when their home was taken from them. Especially Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield, who’d braved unfathomable death and destruction and still stood, facing up against an almost impossible task. And here he was, thanking a small hobbit for mere words.

Their lives could not be more different-- and still, they were familiar.

A soft, shining glow from the middle of the garden grove brought their attention away from one another. Dozens and dozens of fireflies had snuck their way closer and completely surrounded the pair on the bench. Their patterns blinked and glimmered for all to see, with shimmering water nearby to exemplify the view. Thorin, surprisingly, was the one captivated most. His cobalt blue eyes shimmered from their reflection, trained on their light.

“Perhaps you were right. About us being raised too differently,” The hobbit mused. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched the king become a prince again. “I don’t remember being so enthralled by the nightly fireflies.”

Thorin chuckled. A small, but genuine, bout of humor. Honestly, it almost shocked Bilbo into the next age.

“Forgive me. I suppose I just never stopped to notice them before. Not in all my journeys across Middle Earth,” His smile lingered. Bilbo’s brightened.

They held such a gaze for some time in comfortable silence. At first meeting, Thorin had sized up the simple hobbit for a commoner, unfit for the wilds of the journey the company had planned to cross. And perhaps that was still the case. Only time would tell if Bilbo was truly a loyal member of this quest, but for now, they had this moment to share.

That is, until Gandalf’s voice was heard passing along the bridge mentioning the dwarven king by name.

#Bagginshield #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #thilbo #thilbo bagginshield #the hobbit: an unexpected journey #Rivendell #Fanfics #lil bit of both canon compliance and canon divergence #obviously in my AU no one dies tho #did i mention the pining

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caught-in-the-filter · 3 years

Note

Smutty CS notion: sweet duckling Princess Emma stumbles on Dark Hook and is too intrigued for her own good...there are some things she just won’t tell Queen Snow 😉

Chasing a Shadow (Chasing a High) - Chapter 1

A/N:Thank you so much for the prompt @karlyfr13s! There is never enough Dark Hook Duckling. 😏 I hope you like it! 😘❤️ Huge thank you to @veryverynotgoodwrites for beta-ing and being awesome. ❤️ And thank you to everyone on the CSMM Discord for all your support! ❤️

Rated: E; Words (Ch1): 3856; AO3 tumblr.: Ch1, Ch2

——

Emma knew how to handle herself. As the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, who’d since become the ruling queen and king, she’d been well-trained in several ways by which to defend herself and protect the citizens of their kingdom. She could use a bow and arrow, was very skilled with a sword, and knew how to travel amongst others undetected. Whenever she’d asked to venture into the town, her parents were usually agreeable to it.

They didn’t know, however, about the dark figure in whom she’d taken an interest on her last few visits. Curiosity bubbled inside her while she watched him from afar as he swiftly moved through the crowd, the hood of his cloak concealing his face as he rounded a corner and vanished from her sight.

It became a little game she played with herself—finding him, trying to catch a glimpse of the man beneath the shadows, almost copying his swagger as she followed him. She wanted to know where he disappeared to every day as the sun set.

Her desire for answers made her bolder than she’d ever been, determination fueling her next moves.

Emma tracked the mysterious figure to a seedy street a few towns over, sparsely lined with lamps which mostly remained unlit as the day gave way to nightfall, and she found herself squinting in the darkness as she lost sight of the man again.

“A bit far from home, aren’t we, lass?”

Emma jumped at the sound of the sultry voice and turned to face its source. Her eyes widened as she got a good look at the cloaked man for the first time. Dark wisps of hair covered his forehead, and matching scruff decorated his chin, with equally dark kohl setting off his deep blue eyes and making them look that much more wild. An intriguing scar had long since healed on his cheek, and despite it, she couldn’t explain the sudden ache she felt as she scanned his features. He was rather attractive, she had to admit, save for the threat of the sharp metal hook whose tip he held at her throat as he backed her to a wall, the sudden contact of cold stone taking her by surprise. (In all honesty, though, that intrigued her too, the moonlight dancing across its surface as it sent a chill of some sort coursing through her.)

“What is it, love?” he sneered. “Are you here to make a deal or to try to kill me?” He glanced down at her scabbard and loosened it with his hand, shoving it to the ground with a clatter. “Either way, you’re in so far over your head.”

“Please,” Emma croaked, her throat suddenly dry, though from what she wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t exactly fear, she knew that much. “Neither. I just—”

“Ahh,” he gave her a devilish grin, “or perhaps you’re after something else entirely.” His hand snuck beneath her bodice and seared her skin as he slid it up her side. “Does the thought of the big, bad Dark One turn you on?” He leaned the curve of his hook against the wall over her shoulder and hovered his face just above where it had been, inhaling sharply along her neck and humming against the shell of her ear, making her legs tremble beneath her as they suddenly grew weak. “Ohh, you don’t know what you’ve just gotten yourself into, then,” he growled, “Princess.”

The Dark One?!

“W-wait—” she pleaded because she knew she should. Panted, really. He already had her breathless as his mouth explored what little skin was left exposed by her modest outfit, while his hand found her laces and worked to reveal more of it to him. “I didn’t know….” She’d heard stories of the Dark One that had made her blood run cold, and she knew the danger he presented.

But the man in front of her didn’t quite fit the description that had been passed along in fairy tales, and all she felt now was heat, pooling low in her belly and blossoming on her cheeks and curling her toes.

“You know who I am?” she questioned, not that her identity was exactly a secret, but she thought she’d done well to evade his observation, though she guessed her current circumstances proved otherwise.

“Aye. Why do you think I led you all this way?” he asked, rucking up her skirts as his fingers brushed the back of her knee, encouraging her to lock her leg behind him as he lifted it and caressed her thigh. “I couldn’t very well take you in the middle of your own town for everyone you know to witness.” His eyebrow raised as he added cheekily, “Unless, of course, you’d like that too.”

“I wouldn’t,” she replied quickly, unamused by his soft chuckle.

“But you’d like me to take you here?” he teased, not waiting for an answer. She gasped into his mouth as he slanted it against hers, his tongue inviting itself between her lips and she found it not unwelcome as it drew forth a moan from deep within her in tandem with his thigh as he nudged her legs further apart and nestled it between them. Without a second thought, she rocked her hips, seeking a friction she didn’t know she needed until each pass both soothed and spurred the throbbing she felt in her core.

“Tell me what you desire, Princess,” he coaxed, breath hot over her lips. “I know you’ve been following me for some time. Tell me what you’ve come to crave, and I shall make it happen.”

“And what would I owe in return?” Emma knew any interaction with the Dark One would have unintended consequences.

“For you, love, I’d make an exception. Consider it my patronage to the crown,” he said with a flourishing bow while keeping his thigh pressed between hers. The timbre of his voice dropped much lower as he pressed his forehead to hers and purred, “With or without magic, you’ll come with no price, I assure you.”

Emma knew it was a bad idea, tried to convince herself to push him away, but her hands and hormones betrayed her mind as she pulled him closer, one hand anchored in his hair while the other splayed against his back and travelled lower to grip his ass with a confident playfulness neither of them had expected. She felt the hard bulge rubbing her thigh through his trousers as she continued to ride his leg and cursed without realizing what she was saying.

“My, what a crude vocabulary for a princess,” the Dark One commented, slowly sliding his hand toward the apex of her thighs. “Beneath the yards of intricate fabric, you’re still just a needy little wench, aren’t you?” He sent a jolt along her spine as his fingers passed through her folds and eased between them, working her more gently than his reputation would’ve led her to expect. “You put on airs of piety, in your castle with your guard and your formal address, but your slickness reveals the truth of your primal desire.” He pressed them deeper inside her, adding another and curling them towards himself, and she arched into his touch with a whimper and another string of curses when he continued to repeat the motion. “That’s it, darling. Fuck yourself with my hand. Show me just how desperate you are for me.”

Emma furrowed her brow at his words, unsure of when he’d stilled his hand and let her take over the pace. Her rhythm faltered, and she canted her hips in protest as he removed his hand from her core, only to watch in stunned amazement as he licked her arousal from his fingers one by one, his talented tongue determined to catch every drop.

“Your taste is exquisite, Princess,” he said. “It’s no wonder you stay locked away at most times. If they only knew what they were missing, you’d never be without a caller begging for even the smallest sample of your irresistible sweetness.”

Emma stuttered over unintelligible syllables, biting back words she hadn’t expected to want to say, a vulgar question nagging to be spoken that she wouldn’t dare to voice.

“Yes, love?” The Dark One pressed his chest flush against her, staring into her eyes, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from hers.

“I, umm—” Emma hesitated. The Dark One simply smiled, waiting.

“You’re a bit of an open book, Princess,” he said. “I can read your thoughts, but to get what you want, I need you to say it.”

Not one to back down from a challenge, Emma worked up the courage to ask, “Would—would you like to taste it directly?”

He raised his eyebrow and hummed his assent, his voice a low rumble in his chest as he prodded, “Is that what you would like, love?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then tell me.”

“I want your mouth on me, Dark One,” she pleaded. “I want to feel your tongue inside me.”

“Mmmm, with pleasure,” he growled as he sank to his knees in front of her and ducked beneath her skirts.

The sinful cry that left her lips echoed down the empty street as he made contact with her wet and aching flesh, and Emma was sure someone would hear it and the equally loud moans that followed. Her legs wanted to cave beneath her, instinctively pulling together and pressing tightly around his cheeks as he devoured her, the brush of his scruff burning her skin in the best way. He chuckled without pausing his ministrations and held her thighs apart with the palm of his hand warming one and the flat of his hook cooling the other. She squirmed at the conflicting temperatures, or more likely at the way he licked and sucked in the space between them.

“Still with me, Princess?” he mumbled into her core, muffled by the layers of fabric cinched at her waist that shrouded him. Bracing herself with her arms against the wall, her fingertips dug into the gaps between the stones as he scraped his teeth against her clit and nipped at her sensitive flesh, his tongue plunging inside her as he drank in her arousal.

“Mmhmm,” she sighed unconvincingly, rolling her hips as she chased her high. A building tension overwhelmed her as the Dark One nosed at the swollen bundle of nerves while his tongue relentlessly found a spot that his fingers had only teased. “Oh gods,” she panted, her knuckles turning white as she heavily relied on the wall to keep her upright, losing the support of his hand and hook as they met his mouth in the middle to bring her to the edge.

“You flatter me,” he muttered, the joke lost on her as her head spun dizzily and fell back against the stone, her eyes fluttering closed while her hips bucked into his encouraging grunts as she came hard on his tongue.

The Dark One did well to catch as much of it as he could, opening his mouth beneath her as he thrust his fingers inside her with purpose and let her release pour into it, licking along her folds and sucking on her clit until she at last relaxed into the wall behind her. He lifted her skirts and stood before her once more, looking absolutely wrecked and feral, his chin glistening with her wetness below swollen lips, his hair mussed from static and sweat, his pupils blown wide with a greater hunger they’d yet to sate.

“I so wanted to make you wait for it,” he growled, chest heaving, “to make you wait for your release until I had you on my cock, but you were just too tempting, my dear. I had to taste all of you.”

Emma’s hands reached up to attempt to tame the haphazard locks atop his head but only served to add to the chaos as she clenched fistfuls of it instead when his lips collided with her own. She melted at the heady taste of herself on him and welcomed his full perusal of her mouth. The Dark One moaned eagerly as his tongue teased hers as it had her core, and Emma boldly took his bottom lip between her teeth as she pulled back for just a moment before she rose on her toes to meet him again.

“That’s it, Princess,” he said as they breathed together. “Take what you want.” He nosed along her jaw, nipping at the path until he bit her earlobe. His hook caught on her neckline and he tugged it down, down until he freed her breasts. The cool night air rushed across her newly exposed skin, teasing her nipples until he harshly palmed one breast and thumbed at the stiffening peak as he asked, “What do you want?”

“I want—” she could barely breathe, let alone think enough to speak. But then, she really didn’t need to think at all, only feel, to feel something more and then keep feeling it until she crashed all over again. “I want your cock, Dark One. Give me your cock.”

“Good girl,” he purred into her ear as he unlaced his trousers and lifted her skirts in the crook of his hook. His hand departed from her breast only long enough to align himself with her entrance and press inside with one steady roll of his hips as his teeth sank into her shoulder.

Emma cried out at the pleasurable pain of his bite and the stretch of his cock, clutching at his back for any sort of hold, finding purchase in the material of his cloak.

The Dark One’s fingers returned to their task of kneading her flesh as his tongue worked to soothe the purpling spot onto which his mouth had latched, and he began to move inside her with deep thrusts that left her almost empty before filling her completely each time.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight, Princess,” he praised. “Tight and wet and fucking perfect. All for me.”

The small, encouraging sounds she made with every slide echoed the muted slap of his balls against her wet skin, the Dark One’s hungry moans finding their own sort of syncopated rhythm as he kissed along her collarbone and licked at the hollow of her throat before meeting her mouth again.

“Oh, how I’d love to taste every inch of you,” the Dark One groaned against her lips, “to watch your body quiver as I run my tongue all over your skin.” He dipped his head to trail his breath down her chest and suck at her nipple before releasing it with a soft pop. “But alas, we’ve not the time nor is it the place, and there’s a much more pressing matter for us both.”

Emma felt that tension building inside herself again as he devoured her mouth once more, massaged her breasts relentlessly, and slammed into her aching core. His words affected her more than she thought they could, and she writhed against the wall as she moved with him in an effort to bring them both to completion. She could tell he felt it too as the cords in his neck tensed and the force of his hips increased.

“Where do you want it, love?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper this time as the words caught in his throat.

“Ins—inside me,” she choked between whimpers. “I want to feel it inside me, Dark One. Please come inside me.”

“Fuck, Princess, you are a naughty minx.” His thrusts grew rougher, more frantic as he began to lose the last of his resolve. “As you wish, my darling.”

While she thought he was already as impossibly deep as he could go, the Dark One adjusted his angle so that his legs would give him a stronger foundation as he pistoned his hips with abandon. The change sent her reeling, and she struggled to hold on as the corners of her vision blurred from his merciless snaps.

“Are you with me, Princess?” He breathed.

“Mmhmm,” Emma answered as before, though she knew it wasn’t quite true. Her mind travelled to the edge of another blissful plane, and her body was kept from physically falling only by his pinning hers to the wall.

“No, I mean, are you with me, love?” the Dark One clarified. “I’m so fucking close, sweetheart. Are you with me?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” His hand slid its way up to her throat, taking a loose but firm hold. This time Emma did feel just a touch of fear, wondering how far the darkness would go to get him where he wanted to be, but it soon turned to further desire as the Dark One only tightened his grip enough to make her gasp as she relaxed in a mildly lightheaded haze. “Come for me, Princess. Come right on my cock as I fill you with my seed, you naughty thing.”

It did something to her, the way he continually mixed formalities with such vulgarity in equally sultry tones and with an eloquence that made her wonder for a brief moment why there would be any other way to speak when his speech alone could make her feel so good.

Emma’s legs began to quake beneath her when he passed the curve of his hook over her clit in deliberate circles and reminded her that she didn’t have to rely on just his voice to find her release, for which she was most grateful.

The Dark One stifled their moans of pleasure with a passionate kiss, plunging his tongue as deep as his cock as his hips stuttered and stilled and he spilled himself inside her. Their chests heaved as they rested their foreheads together and panted over each other’s lips, attempting to catch their breaths and waiting for their limbs to feel solidified again before daring to move.

“That was wonderful, darling. And I’ll be expecting some… other reciprocation with this pretty little mouth of yours next time,” the Dark One smirked. With a snap of his fingers, he righted himself, leaving her already missing the feel of his cock as his trousers laced themselves.

“Next time? I thought you said I’d come at no price,” she teased, wrapping her fingers around his hook and running them back and forth along the curve.

“That I did. And I didn’t lie, you’ve nothing to repay me.” He took the time to manually fix her bodice, every brush of his fingers lighting little fires across her skin, his effort with the ties as hot as the rest of their prior interactions. “But you withheld the truth from me of just how good of a fuck you are, Princess. You can’t honestly say this was a one-time thing.”

Emma hummed and placed her other hand on his chest as she challenged, “And what if I do?”

“Then I’d hope you’d kindly get on your knees for me right now, and I would assure you that whatever ungodly hour you arrive home will have been worth it.”

Emma’s gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth and back as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“As tempting as that sounds,” she said with a smile, genuinely interested in finding out how he tastes and curious to see just how weak she could make the all-powerful Dark One in the process. But she knew she shouldn’t have gone this far to begin with, and fearing the consequences of further pursuit of whatever this was with him, she responded, “I need to get back before my extended absence is noticed, unless you want to deal with the army of guards my parents would send after you if they somehow found out you’ve ‘ruined’ me.”

“‘Ruined’ you?” His eyebrow raised as he scoffed, “Oh love, your innocence was clearly gone long before tonight. We both know you knew what you were after when you followed me here, and you certainly knew what you were doing when you got it.” His voice became darker, almost threatening when he added, “And I can handle the guards.”

“We might know that, but they sure as hell don’t, and I intend to keep it that way.” Emma sighed. “And I know you can handle them, that’s what I’m afraid of. It’s not for your sake but for theirs.” That earned a sarcastically begrudging eye roll from him.

Emma ducked and slipped away from him, picking up her scabbard as she did, and he spun on his heel as he watched her slowly step backward, beyond his reach.

“Goodbye, Dark One,” she said.

“I’m not unwilling to fight for what I want. Don’t think I’m letting you go this easily.”

“I would despair if you did.” Emma took another backward step before turning and taking off in the direction of her castle.

“Goodbye, Princess,” the Dark One called after her, or thought he called, his voice softer than he’d realized or intended as he watched her leave and got lost in the thought of his release still inside her.

It was all Emma could think about too, knowing it was driving him just as mad and grinning to herself at the fact that she could get to him. She could feel the way it dripped down her thighs as she moved. She could feel the way it dried sticky on her skin as she allowed it to remain there longer than she probably should have.

And she could feel it later as she further explored herself when she finally reunited with her bed and imagined what else he might do to her if given the chance, and what she could do to him, the scent of his pleasure mixing with that of her own arousal as they blended on her desperate fingers, which would have to suffice until she could find him again. She bit back moans and struggled to refrain from calling out his infamous moniker as her head fell back with the fresh memory of his mouth on her neck and the promise that she would feel it everywhere else.

Oh yes. Yes.

Yes, she would absolutely have to see him again, somewhere that would allow them a bit more freedom, the potential danger of granting that to him only adding to the thrill of it all.

Recalling his request, she brought her wet fingers to her lips and tested herself to see what she could handle, learning how much could fit and how deeply and for how long before she’d need a break. Just the hint of him on them encouraged her to try more, deeper, longer, as her other hand matched the pace inside her core and her thumb flicked at her clit.

She’d find an excuse for why she’d need to clean her own sheets tomorrow.

As Emma at last relaxed into the mattress, she drifted into dreams of what might be in store for the two of them. There are some things she would never tell her parents, and fucking the Dark One again and again would just have to be one of them.

——

Tag list ❤️: @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @qualitycoffeethings @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert

#cs smut #captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfiction #dark hook duckling #dark hook #princess!emma #pwp #cs pwp #kayla writes #my writing #prompt fic #chasing a shadow (chasing a high)

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eveningstar1516 · 3 years

Text

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 12

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A/N: I gotta Discord server guys! It's primarily Obey Me but other fandoms are welcome as well. It's kinda baby and dead so me and the other members are looking to revive it and we'd love for you to come join us. A roleplay area is included :) https://discord.gg/F3YEmDZCPS Please remember to read and accept the rules once you join for access to all the channels. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

I faced the edge, ready to jump when I realized I had forgotten something. Turning around, I looked God straight in the eyes and threw the strongest right hook I had ever thrown in my life before jumping backwards, tucking in my wings and closing my eyes. A content sigh leaving my lips as I let the darkness engulf me whole.

I’m coming guys. Wait up for me ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER 12 - Welcome Home (2132 words)

I woke up sometime mid-fall. The initial shock caused me to blackout. Now that I was falling, all I could hear was the wind around me and the sound of someone's pained gasps and screams. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered that the screaming was my own. My hands flew to my head and my wings wrapped around me. My wings felt like they were melting off. When I managed to open my eyes, I watched as the once pure white wings slowly fade to black. The center of each feather shining with a deep blue. My clothes started transforming at around midway. The last thing I registered was a swirl of magic surrounding me before I blacked out once again from the pain.

I woke up in a small crater. The first thing I noticed was the white hot pain all around my body, specifically my back. Using what little strength I had, I pushed myself up into a sitting position and cocooned myself in my 4 wings. Wait 4! Painfully, I stretched my wings out and noticed that my top pair had burnt off. Looking down, I noticed that my attire didn’t change much either. I stayed in my celestial garb, but all the white now turned black. The gold accents became a midnight blue. A black cape hung off my shoulders with a blue inner lining. I reached towards my head to feel for my horns but was shocked to find nothing there.

Despite feeling numb all over, I tried standing up to take in my surroundings but I just collapsed right back down. Instead, I took to crawling. I appeared to be in a garden of sorts. I found my way over to a fountain, and peered into the water taking in my reflection. I looked like I had just left a battlefield, but what surprised me the most, was the small black halo over my head. Lucifer told me that when they fell, their halo’s shattered and horns grew in their place, but my halo was still there. It was a small ring of black fire instead of light. I tentatively reached up to feel it, noting that it was cool to the touch and whatever I did, didn't disturb it.

I looked around the garden, something was strangely familiar about it but I couldn't place my finger on it. All of a sudden, I heard shouting and hurried footsteps. I turned around to see what looked to be a squad of guards rushing towards me. Before my fogged mind could register what was happening, 2 of them tackled me to the ground and secured my wrists and wings behind my back. One of the guards hands brushed over my halo and I could feel a disturbance in the fire before he screamed. His hand had been severely burned. The guard whom I assumed to be the leader of the group barked out orders to bring me to the throne room. My mind having finally caught up to the situation realized why the garden and uniforms looked familiar. I was in the Palace Garden! I felt the guards grab my shoulders and pull me off the ground as I got dragged off; my whole body still aching all over.

I knew I couldn’t take the guards in my current condition so I stayed silent and looked around as I was being led to the throne room. The hallways all looked as familiar and welcoming as they had when I first arrived in the Devildom as a human. There were a few notable differences such as the added portraits. Eventually, we stopped in front of the throne room and I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. One of the guards opened the door as 2 of them grabbed my shoulders and pushed me onto my knees in front of the king. Hissing at the pain, I kept my head bowed for a second before looking up.

Raising my head, I saw Diavolo sitting on the throne. His demon form had some subtle changes. He wore a little less accessories but the most notable change was the crown adorning his head. The once prince, now king, looked as majestic and regal as he always had been. His once carefree demeanour, now replaced with a presence that demanded respect. He looked like he was born to lead. Before anyone could say anything, I locked eyes with Diavolo and smiled. “Long time no see my Lord, or perhaps, my King would be more appropriate.” I saw the recognition of my voice flash in Diavolo’s eyes, a momentary expression of disbelief flickered across his face before he ordered the guards to release me. “But my Liege-” “Need I repeat myself? I ordered you to release them. You’re all dismissed.” The guards now scared of any repercussions that would arise, quickly released me, bowed their apologies and left. Carefully I stood up, rubbing my wrists before Diavolo came up and captured me in a bone crushing hug. I hissed in pain. “Ah! Hehe, I missed you too Dia.” Diavolo squeezed a little tighter, tears starting to pool into his eyes. “Uh, Dia. I still hurt from the fall and I kind of need to breathe. Please?” Diavolo released me with an apologetic look. Gently holding my chin, he looked into my eyes. I smiled back. “You’re here. You’re really here. I’ve missed you so much. We’ve missed you so much.” Diavolo leaned down as I embraced him. Whisper-crying onto my shoulder. “I know. I did too.” Patting his back I let him stay there for a little. “There there big guy. Where’s my happy go lucky prince hmm?” At this, Diavolo let out a laugh. Composing himself he stood up and flashed me his signature smile. De-powering, he pointed to his chest. “Still here, but not the prince anymore.” “That’s right. You’re a King now! I hope this means less pranks and spontaneous schemes are going to be pulled on the brothers?” “I wouldn’t say less, but definitely less frequent.” Barbatos walked into the throne room and dropped the papers he was carrying. A hand went to cover his mouth as he stood in shock. I made my way over to him and gave him a hug. “Hey Barb. I’m back.” Barbatos hesitated for a second. The time demon was still in shock from my appearance before he returned the hug. He held me tightly against him while being mindful of my injuries. “Your wings.” Releasing the hug I looked at them. “I know. It hurts, but it’s more of a phantom pain. I lost the top set.” “You look just like Lucifer did before he fell.” Diavolo remarked, reaching for my halo. I stepped just beyond his reach. “I wouldn't do that. One of the guards touched me and badly burned his hand.” “This is interesting. Why did the brothers lose theirs but yours only changed?” Barbatos thought aloud. “I don’t know. I wish I did but I don’t. Speaking of Lucifer and the brothers, where is he?” “Ah, I thought you’d ask that. He’s here in the palace working. I do warn you though, he hasn’t been the same since you left.” “Let me guess, he buried himself in work and reverted back to his old self from before we met?” “Well yes, but 10x worse.” “Can I see him?” “Of course! Follow me” Waving bye to Barbatos. I followed Diavolo out of the throne room. It was now that the rest of the pain from the fall wanted to hit. As soon as we left the throne room, I almost collapsed and had to lean against the wall for support. My back was killing me and my legs were numb. Diavolo saw me and caught me halfway. “Y/N! Are you sure you’re alright?” “No, no I don’t think so, but I did expect this to happen.” “Do you want me to call a physician?” “No, I’ll be fine with some rest. I just want to see him.” “Alright. You can lean on me.” “Thank you.” Walking around the halls with Diavolo, we caught up on some stuff going on in the Devildom. I promised to tell him about my time in the Celestial Realm after I’ve gotten some rest. Sometime later, we stopped in front of an office in the east wing. Diavolo knocked on the door. “Lucifer. You have someone who wants to see you.” Diavolo opened the door as I

stood behind him. I heard Lucifer sigh. “I would love to my Lord, but I’m afraid these need to get done before I am available to see anyone.” Seeing the opportunity, I chose to seize it. Stepping around Diavolo, I saw Lucifer still looking down at the documents on his desk as I announced myself. “Aww, so does that mean you don’t want to see me?” Lucifer dropped his pen, his head shooting up to look at me. His face, a mix between shock and hope. I made my way over to his desk as he stood up and walked around to meet me halfway. He stopped in front of me looking very conflicted. Slowly, his hand made its way up to cup my face. “Y/N?” I would have missed that whisper if I wasn’t paying attention. I put my hand over his and turned my head giving him a small kiss against his palm before closing my eyes and leaning into him. “Yes. I missed you.” Lucifer lost his composure and pulled me protectively against his chest, my head resting just above his heart. His head resting on top of my own. “Lucifer, their halo-!” His hold was tight, but comforting, holding on as if, if he were to loosen just a bit, I would disappear. I looked up to see my halo had dissipated, making room for Lucifer. I pulled away from him. “How? How did you not get burned?” Lucifer looked at me and Diavolo, confused. Then he saw the black ring of fire atop my head. “How did you retain your halo?” “I don’t know. But when other demons touched it, they got severely burned, but you're just fine.” Diavolo crossed his arms, thinking. “Maybe it doesn’t affect higher ranked demons?” “No, it still does. I felt the heat when I got close to you Y/N.” “Maybe it’s because Lucifer was once an angel?” “Perhaps. I can still sense some grace within you. You didn’t lose all of it when you fell like the rest of us.” “Neither did you Lucifer.” “What?” “You still retained a small portion of your celestial power and grace. Perhaps, the halo won’t harm demons or angels with grace within them. It will do its job and repel true demons.” “In that case, I should probably stay away from Satan, huh?” “I don’t know. Satan was born from Lucifer so he might have some trace of grace within him. I wouldn’t test it, but I would be cautious. Take the day Lucifer. Take care of them.” “Thank you Diavolo.” With that, Lucifer shifted into his demon form. Wings encompassing the both of us. “We will catch up later Y/N. Get some rest.” “Thank you Diavolo. Nice to see you again.” Lucifer muttered a spell teleporting us to his room.

Now in the privacy of his own room, his walls fell down. Lucifer held me tight. His head bowed down, resting on the crook of my neck. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” The tears flowed freely as he cried on my shoulder. I maneuvered us towards the bed as sat down as Lucifer kneeled to match my height. I put my arms around his back, fingers running through his hair. “It’s not your fault Lucifer. Please don’t blame yourself. I’m alright, and I’m here with you. Please don’t be sorry.” Lucifer lifted his head from my shoulder, taking me in properly for the first time. His hand made its way to my wings, softly stroking the blackened feathers. His fingers traced the base of my wings on my back when he noticed the scarring. “Your top pair.” “I know. It’s alright. I’m still numb there so I can’t feel it.” “You look perfect in my clothes. They were made for you.” “No Lucifer, they were made for you. I just borrowed them.” Chuckling, he leaned forward and leaned his forehead against mine. “Welcome home”

I spent that night cuddled close to Lucifer. After I bathed, he tended to my injuries and wrapped my upper back where my top set of wings once were. We layed in bed together, Lucifer holding me protectively against him as we fell asleep to the sound of our heartbeats, beating in sync.

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imagines-dreams · 4 years

Text

A Reaper - Jack Frost Imagine

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of death and overworking oneself, burnout, not much romantic things so it can be read as platonic

Summary: You’re one of the many reapers who lead souls from death. You’ve never met any of the guardians, but you’ve met Pitch more times than you’d like.

Word Count: 2882

Notes: This is unedited, because I feel bad for not posting so hopefully this is good for someone

~ - ~

“Hello.”

The old woman opened her eyes and blinked the stiffness of death away. “Wha-” She rubbed her eyes at the sight of you. “Who” -she turned only to gasp. You gently pulled her to face you before smiling. “It’s ok. Your friends will be fine.”

“But I’m-”

“Dead.”

“Are you-” She gulped. “Are you death?”

“I have many names, but my job is to bring you home.” You held out your hand. “You can come with me, or you can stay.”

“What if I stay?”

“Then, I’ll come back when you’re ready.” You stared past her to look at the nurses and her friends that surround the hospital bed. “I warn you, though, it’s a sad existence to see and not be seen.”

The old woman slowly made her way to another old woman, who was crying at the bedside. Your passenger patted her friend’s head only to see her hand touch nothing. The woman started to cry. “I’ll go.”

You nodded. “Alright.” When she took your hand, you led her away, and as your surroundings came back into focus, she beamed. “My home.”

You laughed. “I told you. Back home.”

The apartment door didn’t open, but someone emerged.

“Mama?”

The old woman and her mother embraced, and they left.

You closed your eyes and leaned against the wall. Leading the dead was exhausting. Willing yourself out, you took yourself to your garden. There, nothing was dead, only the silence. You stared at the moon in the night sky. “You really couldn’t have found someone else for the job?”

And like always, the moon didn’t respond.

And like always, you were whisked away to another soul to lead.

“Hello, dear.”

Damn it. Your sword appeared in your hand, and brandished it with no fear. “Pitch.” The name tasted like tar.

Despite the unfortunate circumstance of the king of nightmares being present, you noticed the road beneath your feet and the ambulance to your right. There was also a child in someone’s arms, struggling against the hold. A nightmare.

“You sick, twisted-”

“There’s no need for name calling.”

You put away your sword and rushed to the child. With one touch, the black sand disintegrated. “He witnessed death, and you play with his dreams like its nothing.” You hadn’t so desperately wished for the Sand man’s abilities until the moment.

“I just needed your attention.”

The ambulance was your next destination. A middle-aged woman was crying over the body of her husband, and the soul was just leaving. “Please, leave, you’re not needed,” you sneered as you checked the man’s memories. He liked the beach, and he had recently lost a beloved uncle. Perhaps you could call upon that soul.

As you made your arrangements, Pitch slithered behind you. “Don’t you think some souls deserve punishment?”

“That’s not our call to make, Pitch.” You took out your sword. “Now, get out!” You striked, but he was gone.

“Wha- Who- Are you-”

“Death?” You smiled through your stress. “I have many names, but my job is to bring you home.”

After the man had reunited with his uncle, you stared at the waves and watched them go, back and forth. It was mesmerizing. Sometimes, you wished you could have that kind of simplicity.

“Are you really going to ignore me?”

But, that wasn’t your life.

You said nothing. He wouldn’t stop. You took a deep breath and let him talk. He’d tire himself out.

He stood in front of you, blocking your view of the sea. “Your fellow grim reapers joined me. Don’t you want to see them again?”

You didn’t even give him the satisfaction of glaring at him. It didn’t mean that your shoulders weren’t tense, though.

“They all agreed that some deserve the nightmares. You don’t think there are bad people in the world?” He circled you, but you kept your eyes on the waves, even as he grew mad. “Don’t they deserve punishment?! The liars! The cheaters! The murderers!”

You bit your cheek. He talked about so much, and both of you knew so little of what happens after death. It was a shame that the people you once worked with agreed with a man who was only mad at the world and everyone in it. Your friends may have taken the easy way out, let nightmares guide people in death instead of themselves, but you wouldn’t.

“Don’t you want help, my dear?”

You steeled yourself. Because yes, you did want help. You didn’t ask to see death every minute of every day. You didn’t ask to be immortal. But you were, and you were people’s first comfort in death. You wouldn’t hand that over to some nightmare king.

“I can help you.” He crouched down to whisper in your ear, “And then, you can stare at the ocean all you want.”

You shivered.

He screamed.

And someone laughed. “Hey, snake eyes!”

When you looked up to see what had happened, a laugh bubbled from within you and escaped your lips in a merry glee. Pitch, the darkness personified and king of the nightmare realm had been hit with two snowballs, and he wasn’t happy about it. A boy in blue was behind you. Snow covered the ground he walked on, and a pile of snow was next to him. He had a snowball ready to fire.

Jack Frost.

The boy launched the other snowball right as Pitch disappeared and reappeared by his side.

“Jack Frost,” Pitch said, “you are-”

Jack threw a snowball in his face. “Ha!” He raced to you, grabbed your hand, and pulled you behind him. “You’re so bad at this, Pitch. You’re not supposed to talk!” Another snowball thrown, and another appeared. A big one. On top of Pitch’s head.

It fell and covered the lord of darkness in blue, fluffy snow.

You laughed. You laughed really hard. “You really shouldn’t do that,” you said with a smile that said otherwise.

The guardian shrugged. “Sometimes, when stupid people talk, you have to treat it like a joke.” He threw his snowball in the air and let you catch it. “Take the shot.”

With nothing better to do, you did, and seeing Pitch’s face covered in snow was a payoff you never knew you needed. “I did it!”

“Yeah, you did!” With a wave of his hand, the beach was covered in snow, and a pile of ready-made ammunition was by your side. “Take aim!”

You’re not sure how it happened, but soon you were giggling and the man of fear wasn’t talking. He was too busy being hit by you or by Jack Frost! You were besting him at a game he didn’t want to play, and honestly, it felt good. You had run for the joy of it or laughed for the sake of laughing in so long.

The man growled, “This isn’t over,” but since he was covered in snow, it didn’t sound as threatening or tiring. Then, he was gone.

Your chest hurt from the lightness you felt, and yet you had never felt better. “I’ve never had him leave so fast,” you said. “Usually, he’d follow me until something else called his attention.”

“That’s no fair.” Jack leaned against his staff. “Did Manny really put one person in charge of leading the souls?”

“Not at first.” You shook your head. “There were many of us, but Pitch, he convinced so many to let him handle it. After all, so many people in the world, right?”

Jack’s face contorted into something of disgust. “I mean, some, yeah, but not all.”

“Exactly, but Pitch sees it differently, and my other reapers were just so tired of-”

Another soul called out to you. Your chest felt heavy again. “I need to go.” You smiled. “This was fun.”

“Woah, wait!” Jack raised his eyebrows. “I think I’m owed a name.”

You told him your name. You left before seeing his brilliant smile and before you could see him repeat your name before nodding to himself. “Name to remember.”

As the weeks went by, More and more reapers joined Pitch, and more and more souls were put under your care. You were exhausted. While you could physically do your job, you were so tired of seeing all these souls distraught and clinging to you for answers. You helped people, but you were soon at a point where you couldn’t help yourself.

“I can’t do this,” you said to the moon. “I’m going to break soon. Help me.”

Jack Frost visited your garden. He didn’t know it was yours but it was winter. “Hi, Jack.”

“Ah, our own Hades!” He bowed. “Your majesty.”

Though your head was heavy and your thoughts far from light, you smiled as best you could. “That’s not how it works. People don’t fear me like the god of death and destruction.”

Jack blinked. “Ok, you need a breather.” He tilted his head far too much to the side. “Ah!” He held out his staff to you. “Grab on.”

“What?”

“Grab on.”

“I might have another soul-”

“To lead, I know, but grab on, you can have a bit of a break.”

When you only stared at the staff, Jack poked you. “Come on, before you need to leave.”

You shook your head. “Only for a little bit.” You grabbed the end of his staff, and Jack smirked. “Jack, I don’t like that- Woah!” You were yanked right into the air, the wind carrying you and Jack. The pull was so strong, so unexpected, and the staff slipped from your grip.

“Jack!”

“Oh!” He zipped past you and let the wind carry him forward so he could hold your hand and pull you into his chest. “You haven’t flown by wind before have you?”

“I can transport!” You held onto him. “No need for the wind messing up my robes!”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, the wind will fix you when we land.”

The North Pole was beautiful. It was bright and full of music, and there was no such thing as silence. Elves were bustling around and testing toys. There was music in the air, percussion, strings, wind, brass, and even some yetis singing carols as they worked.

“Ah, a reaper!” North lifted you up and squeezed you as if he had met you before and hadn’t seen you in years. “Wait!” He pulled away. “Don’t tell me it’s my time already!”

You laughed. “Don’t worry, North, you’re not on my list.”

The jolly man laughed, and it sounded better than music. “My friend, you must visit us more.”

You and Jack got to build toys for a lengthy twelve minutes before someone called out to you.

“I’ll bring you back when you have a break,” Jack promised.

As your shoulders sagged and you put on your standard robe, you said, “You better.”

The days went on, and more reapers left to join Pitch. Soon, he began to reappear to you. “Wouldn’t it be easier?” he said. “Let me take care of this. Let me free you from-”

You threw sand at his face, and you laughed.

“That’s not funny.”

You shrugged. “It’s kinda funny.” You went back to tending your garden. “Also, I know what you’re doing.”

“What? Trying to help you?”

“No.” You plucked the last of your fruits and smiled at him. “Helping yourself.” You turned to go back into your house. “You see, it didn’t occur to me until Jack had called me Hades.” you set your basket down and sorted your fresh harvest. “When people fear death, they believe that you must be able to cheat it, talk to it. Of course, you can’t, but if a certain king of nightmares kept on haunting people close to death, maybe, just maybe, some people would fear him enough to believe.”

You took your knife and began to cut some vegetables for a salad. “But you see, I’m not leaving.” You turned to him and casually let your knife point right at him. “People don’t deserve to fear and avoid something as inevitable as death.”

He scoffed. “So, you’re what? You’re going to keep on helping until you become exhausted? Think of all that death you will witness. All those people you must comfort. All the souls you must lead. Won’t you need help?”

“I have help.” You leaned forward to open your window. “He’s here!” you yelled.

In a flash, Jack, North, and some of their friends were in front of your cottage. You continue to chop tomatoes. “It’s funny, because if you didn’t pester me so much, Jack wouldn’t have found me. He wouldn’t have forced me to take breaks and make friends and find the fun in everything as many things as I can.” You scooped all of your ingredients into a bowl and looked at Pitch. “So, really, I must thank you. I can help souls, and be helped by guardians.” You opened the door so Pitch could try to escape. “Have fun.”

As guardians fought Pitch and sent him back to his realm, you ate your salad and cheered them on. They knew you had a busy day, and they could easily handle a man who was in over his head. It had only taken a few minutes.

You let them stay for lunch. You had enough harvest to share.

“Thanks for the rabbit food,” Jack said.

“Oi, I’d watch your tongue, Frosty,” Bunny said.

You only shook your head. “You’re welcome, but I must thank all of you. It’s been hard, but I’m glad to say I have friends like you.”

When they left, Jack hugged you and smiled. “Hey, I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s for me, too.” He held up two bells, one blue and one white. “Ring this when you need me.” You took the white one and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

That night, no soul called out to you. You had an entire night to yourself. When morning came, no souls called. Something was wrong. You were just about to ring you new bell when it rang by itself. Jack was calling you. You grabbed the bell, and your door flew open. The wind scooped you up and flew you North.

“Jack?!” you called, but he didn’t answer.

When you were above North’s workshop, the wind dropped you.

Jack caught you. “Hey there.”

“What?!”

He laughed and kissed your forehead before letting you down. “Trust me, it’s going to be fun.” With an overdramatic bow, he held out his hand, “My reaper.”

You rolled your eyes and put your hand in his. Then, the two of you were off. Jack pushed you inside the workshop backwards so your fell into Tooth’s arms. She wrapped something around your eyes just to disappear and let Sandy hold your hand. “Follow you?”

Sandy jingled, so yes.

Sandy led you somewhere into the workshop, and when you stopped, North’ sand Bunny’s voices were hushed. Jack reassured you, “You’re gonna love this.”

“Not loving the blindfold, though. What’s going on?”

The blindfold was off.

There was a great noise, like fireworks, and streamers and confetti. “Surprise!” North stepped forward and announced, “You are our new guardian!” He spread out his arms. ‘Ta da!”

You blinked.

“What?”

“Believe it.” Jack draped his arm around your shoulder and pointed at the skylight where the moon watched the two of you. “That guy up there, he told us last night.” He brought his hand up to cover his whisper to you, “Be grateful I told North to tone it down for you.”

You laughed. “Wait, I’m not a guardian. I’m just a reaper.”

“Our reaper guardian!” Tooth gushed.

North knelt in front of you and asked, “Little one, you are a guardian, like us. You defied Pitch and helped souls for years, and you learned how to help yourself. That is guardian material right there!”

“Better than some, actually,” Bunny joked.

Jack promptly put his hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, did you hear something? Cause I swore I heard the sound of someone who only has one day as opposed to, I don’t know, a season?” He looked to you. “Guess who has a season? Me!”

Tooth only rolled her eyes before flying up to you and saying, “Some people can’t take every day jobs.”

Sandy pointed at her with glee in enthusiastic agreement.

You laughed. “I don’t even know what I’m guardian of!”

Sandy tugged on your robe and pointed at your stomach.

“He’s right,” Jack said. “It’s your center. At your core, what are you? What do you want to impart on everyone else?”

You wanted to say something like laughter, but that was Jack. He brought you laughter. Before that, you were tired and drained. Really, it was all thanks to Jack for bringing you a balance to life, a steady state where you could be calm and…

“Peace,” you whispered. As soon as the word left your lips, you felt like everything had fallen into place. It was all a perfect state, and if you could remember only one moment in your life it would be that one. Nothing was out of place. Not you, not your friends, not your struggles. It was all at peace.

“I’m a reaper,” you stated, “and I’m the new guardian of peace.”

#jack frost x reader #jack frost imagine #jack frost oneshot #jack frost fanfiction #jack frost #rotg #rotg x reader #rotg imagine #rotg oneshot #rotg fanfiction

682 notes · View notes

hearts-hunger · 3 years

Text

aay’han mar’eyce (bittersweet discovery): chapter three || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

chapter one || chapter two

Series Summary: In search of the Jedi you’ve been tasked to find, you and Din wrestle with the bittersweet discovery of your little one’s past and destined future. || Part Three of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Ahsoka gives you a bittersweet gift.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst | Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, pregnant reader

A/N: You got me, I’m a sucker for Din and his bride working through angst together, especially if that angst has a lot of fluff and hurt/comfort mixed in, especially if they get emotional about how much they love their baby. I hope you like it! ♡

You stumbled backwards, both arms wrapped protectively around your baby, eyes wide as you watched Din block swing after swing of the blazing white swords. Each parry sent sparks flying from his beskar; he met his attacker’s downward blow with his vambraces and held them there for a moment, the contact ringing as neither would give way. Din regained his footing and held the swords off with one arm while he activated his flamethrower, and the forest was awash in an angry red blaze.

He threw his whipcord and bound his attacker, giving you your first real look at the Jedi you’d been tasked to find.

She’s beautiful, you thought foolishly, unable to process how quickly the fight had started. Her skin was the color of candlewick flowers, and the head-tails that draped over her shoulders were dusty blue and white. She looked slightly stunned by the whipcord that confined her, but only for a moment; she gave Din a smirk and leapt upwards. Your shocked gaze followed her as she drew the whipcord over a branch and hoisted Din up by his vambrace. He cut himself loose and drew his blaster as she drew her swords again.

“Ahsoka Tano!” he growled. She stilled at her name, studying him warily.

Din’s shoulders rose and fell with rapid breaths, and he held a half-defensive, half-placating hand out to her out to her even as he kept his blaster trained on her.

“Bo-Katan sent me,” he said, and you heard how he struggled to keep his voice calm. “We need to talk.”

They stayed frozen for a moment, each considering the other, perhaps gearing up for another round - then her gaze snagged on you, and the baby in your arms.

She turned off her swords and straightened, her posture relaxing.

“I hope it’s about him,” she said, surprise and genuine interest coloring her voice. Din turned, slowly holstering his blaster; you gave him a pleading look as your baby cooed at the two of them.

She took a few steps towards you, and you reacted in panic; whatever truce she and Din had come to, you didn’t know what her intentions were. Adrenaline and fear still coursed through your body, and you stepped back from her and held your baby closer.

She stopped when she saw your expression.

“Wait,” she said, her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt either of you.”

You looked to Din. She’d just attacked you, out of nowhere, and you couldn’t believe he was so willing to trust her.

“Din,” you said, willing him to understand your hesitation, your fear. You saw from the set of his shoulders that he wasn’t completely at ease with her, but he also hadn’t tried to stop her from coming over to you. What if she tried to take your baby? Your hands shook, and you couldn’t get your heart to stop pounding.

He closed the distance between you, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “It’s alright, cyare.”

“Alright?” you snapped. “She tried to kill you.”

Ahsoka put her hands on her hips. “In my defense, I thought you were coming to kill me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. It was probably best not to mention the Magistrate’s deal.

She nodded to your baby. “Are you... the little one’s mother?”

“Yes, I am,” you said, more confidently than you’d said anything else in this exchange. You met her gaze and held it, speaking to her not as a warrior, but as a woman and as a mother.

“I made a vow to protect him,” you said. “And even though we both know I can’t fight you, I will gladly let myself be the last protection he has from you, if I need to.”

You made no mention of your husband, nor of his far superior skill in fighting her if the need arose. You also didn't tell her you were pregnant, which made the act of self-sacrifice a more complicated thing. None of it changed the point you were trying to get across to her: she must be very careful to earn your trust where your son was concerned.

She nodded, her expression serious and sincere. “I know you will,” she said, and there was nothing patronizing in her tone. “I promise you won’t have any reason to. Not from me.”

You saw nothing but honesty in her eyes. For the first time since she’d drawn her swords, you felt your tension and fear ease. You relaxed your hold on your baby, and he reached out to Ahsoka and babbled at her.

“Hello, little one,” she said, and the smile that eased her expression was kind and gentle. She looked over at Din.

“We should head to my camp,” she said. “We don’t want to be caught out here after dark.”

He nodded. “Lead the way.”

You and Din walked beside each other, following a few paces behind Ahsoka as she led you to her camp. His body language was a little reserved, and he kept an uncharacteristic distance between you as you walked.

“Are you angry with me?” he finally asked.

You looked up at him. “No,” you said truthfully. “I’m not angry with you. I’m... sorry if I was a little harsh, earlier. I was just scared.”

“Me too,” he said. He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to try and rush you. She and I came to an agreement when we stopped fighting, without having to talk about it. It’s a little hard to explain. You just sort of... know that you’re not enemies any more. But it was wrong of me to try and force that on you.”

He put his hand to the small of your back as the path steepened. Steadying you, lending you his strength - that came as easy as breathing to your husband, and you felt a sudden rush of gratitude and tenderness at the way he continually showed you his willingness to protect and care for you.

“Thank you,” you said.

He looked down at you. “For what?”

You shrugged. “Everything. Taking care of me. I love you.”

“Oh,” he said, and he affectionately nudged his shoulder against yours, a little bashful. “Well, you’re welcome. I love you too.”

You took his forearm in a gentle grip and raised it to examine his armor. “Did she hurt you?”

He shook his head. “No. Well - ” He rolled his left shoulder. “Dangling from the whipcord isn’t nearly as fun as it looks. But otherwise I’m fine.”

You moved your hand down to his, and he twined your fingers together.

“Your armor was sparking like crazy,” you said. You tried to shake the memory of him bracing his arms together against her death stroke. “Did you know it would hold up like that?”

He shrugged. “It’s sturdy stuff, this beskar. I haven’t met a thing yet that it couldn’t hold up against. I’ve never had to use it against laser swords, but it seemed to do the trick.”

You glanced at the sword hilts strapped to Ahsoka’s waist. “I’ve never seen weapons like those before,” you said. You wondered if she was the only person who used them, or if they were a traditional Jedi weapon. Though you had always known Din would likely teach your son how to fight, that had always been a long way off, and you wondered how young Jedi were when they started training in combat.

“Me either,” Din agreed. “They’re powerful, there’s no doubt about that. I’d be afraid to use one of them, let alone two.”

You smiled. “No you wouldn’t.” Whatever he said, you knew your husband was skilled enough to be effective with a weapon he’d never used before and could become proficient with it if he put his mind to it.

“You can’t fool me, Djarin,” you teased. “You want to try them out, don’t you?”

He chuckled. “Maybe. It would certainly be an interesting look, wouldn’t it? A Mandalorian with a laser sword?”

You gave a soft laugh. “I think you could pull it off.”

You kept a hold of him as darkness fell; the roots grew more tangled and the fallen logs more numerous as you went deeper into the mountains. For all the times Din had gotten snagged on something earlier, he was much steadier on his feet with the night vision in his HUD. You, on the other hand, felt like you were stumbling over something every other step.

“Dank farrik,” you bit out, grabbing Din’s arm to keep from falling flat on your face. No sooner had you steadied yourself than he swept you off your feet, scooping you up bridal-style and holding you close to his chest.

“Din!” you squeaked, grabbing onto his shoulder for dear life. The baby giggled at the sudden swing upwards, and your husband gave a warm laugh.

“Relax, cyare,” he said. He gave Ahsoka a nod when she glanced back to see what the commotion was, and you thought you saw a smile on her face as she turned back.

Din kept pace behind her, seemingly no worse for wear with both his wife and baby in his arms. You relaxed and circled one arm around his neck while the other held your baby, who was absolutely delighted to be carried around by both his parents.

“You don’t have to carry me, Din,” you said, amused and affectionate. He was really quite the romantic under that tough exterior, and it had always been something you loved about him.

He hummed in agreement. “I know, but I figure it’s better than you twisting an ankle,” he teased. “And you’re probably tired, aren’t you?”

You nodded. It was very nice to be off of your feet for a moment; you’d been walking all day, and you knew Din must be just as weary of it as you were.

“My camp’s just ahead,” Ahsoka called over her shoulder. Your baby offered her a pleasant babble in response, and you smiled at the sound of Din’s chuckle.

“We sure did get a friendly one, didn’t we?” he asked.

You brushed your fingers over your baby’s ear, feeling an almost impossible amount of love for him when he smiled and cooed at you.

“Yeah, we did,” you agreed. You hoped that no matter what happened - whether he trained under Ahsoka or another Jedi, or stayed with you and Din - nothing would dim your little one’s bubbly and inquisitive personality.

As promised, you arrived at Ahsoka’s camp before long. Din set you down as she turned on her lantern, the warm golden light spilling over the ground in a small circle. You let your baby down to stretch his legs, and he toddled over to the lamp and greeted it with a curious babble.

A shiver took you by surprise, and you rubbed your hands over your arms as you realized how cool the night air was. You saw Ahsoka fasten her cloak over her shoulders and wished you’d thought to bring something; it had been warm when you left the Crest, and you didn’t know you’d be trekking through the mountains after you left the city.

“Here, cyare,” Din said from behind you. He unclasped his cloak and draped it over your shoulders. “Better?”

You snuggled into the warmth that enveloped you and gave him a grateful smile. “Much better. Thank you.”

Ahsoka perched on one of the small boulders near the lamp, watching your little one with a smile. You were unexpectedly endeared to the way she watched him with such obvious affection; though part of you wasn’t surprised, as your baby charmed everyone he met, you also hadn’t ventured to hope that she would even like him. You didn’t know how you felt about it; it would be much easier to justify not leaving him with her if she was unkind to him.

You watched as your baby clambered up onto the rock across from her; he sat still, uncharacteristic for your usually energetic and adventurous little one, and cooed up at her. He cocked his head and gestured with his little claws, something that still made you smile even if you’d seen him do a hundred times.

“Look, Din,” you said. You nodded to your baby. “It’s almost like they’re talking.”

He watched them for a few moments; Ahsoka certainly seemed to be nodding in response to your baby’s gestures, but didn’t everyone do that to a baby? You were a little surprised when Din pulled you aside a few paces.

“What?” you asked, your voice low. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment; you put a hand on his arm.

“Talk to me,” you said. “What is it?”

He looked over at your baby, then back at you. His shoulders were tense, and you wish you knew the reason for his discomfort.

“What if they are speaking?” he asked. “What if... it’s some language only Jedi speak? What if that’s the only way he communicates?”

You frowned. “He’s only a baby, Din,” you reminded him. “He’ll learn Basic. He’s just little, that’s all.”

He gestured over to the two of them. “But what is that? It’s not Basic, and it’s not just baby talk. He’s saying something to her, and she understands it.”

You looked back over at them. You had thought there was something different, more intentional about your baby’s gestures and coos as he sat with Ahsoka, but you’d dismissed the idea as quickly as it occurred to you. With Din’s concern, though, it came back in full force - were they speaking? Could Ahsoka understand your child in a way even you couldn't?

The thought made you pale with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite identify. Grief, guilt, and sadness were among them, and something even a little like jealousy.

“They can’t be,” you said, even as it became clear that they were. “He’s not - he can’t...”

You and Din had been interacting with your little one every day, talking to him like you would a human baby. Had he been trying to speak to you, and you just couldn’t understand him? Had you been parenting him inadequately this whole time, thinking you knew what was best for him?

Your chest tightened. How could you know what was best for him? You and Din weren’t Jedi. It was why you had been tasked with returning him to them, why you had been looking all over the galaxy for a Jedi - your baby belonged with them.

You looked over at Din, who had started to pace back and forth, agitation rolling off him in waves. You weren’t a pacer, but your discomfort needed somewhere to go; you worried the fabric of his cloak between your fingers, twisting and pulling at the well-loved cloth.

“Have we been doing this all wrong?” you asked.

He didn’t stop pacing. “What do you mean?” he asked, cautiously, as if he knew already.

You bit your bottom lip, feeling closer to tears than you wanted to be. “What if we - ” You shook your head. “What if we’re not what’s best for him, Din?”

That did stop his pacing, but he seemed no less tense.

“We are,” he said. “Of course we are, cyare. Don’t talk like that. We’ve done the best we can.”

You felt a flash of frustration and guilt. “Isn’t that the problem?”

You thought of your other little one, the one growing inside you. You had considered yourself a decent mother - rough around the edges, perhaps, without your own mother’s help, and capable of making mistakes like everyone else. But with Din’s help, you were trying so hard to be the mother your babies needed - one who taught kindness and virtue, one who protected and cared for them above everything else. And you loved your son, like you already loved this baby you carried. You truly hadn’t considered a misstep of this magnitude, nor the idea that your son would really be better off with the Jedi.

“We can’t even speak to him, Din,” you said desperately. “How many other things are we doing wrong? How many other things am I doing wrong?”

Din read your distress easily and closed the distance between you. He put his hands on your shoulders, something he did when he really wanted you to listen to him.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, cyare,” he said. His voice was gentle and firm. “You’ve loved him as your own. You’ve taught him and protected him and loved him like he came from you. You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t know.”

Your vision blurred in a wash of tears.

“I knew he didn’t belong with me,” you said quietly. “Deep down, I must have known - I did know, and we were always supposed to bring him to the Jedi. I was never supposed to be his mother.”

His grip on your shoulders tightened.

“No, cyare.” He sounded hurt, heartsick. He released your shoulders; his hands hovered near you, as if unsure how best to comfort you.

“How can I convince you?” he asked. “You’re a wonderful mother, cyar'ika. He belongs with you. He belongs with us. He’s supposed to train with the Jedi, but - we’re his family. We’ll always be his family, even if we have to let him go.”

You pressed your hands to your face, hiding behind them as a few tears fell. You leaned against his chest, and he gathered you in his arms.

“He’s your baby, cyar’ika,” he said gently, holding you close. “You’re his mother. You took the adoption vow just like I did. He belongs with us.”

You remembered the day you said the adoption vow, both you and your husband repeating the words after the armorer. Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad - I know your name as my child. Din had explained to you later that adopting a foundling was a very serious thing and a cause for great celebration: a parent and their foundling shared gai bal manda, name and soul. You had kissed your baby then, cradling him in your arms as Din held both of you close, calling him Djarin’ika - little Djarin.

You felt a wave of peace at the memory. He did belong with you. Whatever happened, he was your son, the little one who had made you a clan of three. Your little Djarin.

You took a deep, steadying breath and looked up at your husband.

“He belongs with us,” you said.

Din cradled your face in his hands and rested his helm against your head.

“Yes, cyare. No matter what happens, no matter how far apart we are. He’s still our son, and he’ll always belong with us.”

You rested against his touch for a few moments, both of you drawing strength and comfort from each other. You were so thankful for Din, for his kindness and honesty and unwavering love for you and your family.

“Our son is lucky to have you as his father, Din,” you said, holding his wrists in a gentle grip. “Your dad would be very proud of you.”

Din cleared his throat, the sound thick with tears. You pressed closer to him.

“Thank you, cyare,” he managed after a moment. “That means more to me than you know.”

You held him for a moment more, then pulled away just enough to press a kiss to his helmet, right over his cheek. “I love you.”

He released a shaky breath. “I love you too, cyar’ika.”

He held you for the space of a few heartbeats, seeming to collect himself; when he straightened, you could see from his body language how tired he was. The light of the huge moon shone weakly through the clouds and reflected dully off his beskar.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” you asked, looking over at Ahsoka and your baby.

Din shook his head. “I don’t know. I think that’s what we’re about to find out.”

Both of you watched as Ahsoka lifted your baby into her arms, carrying him with one hand and holding the lantern with the other. She made her way over to you, the lantern light swaying gently over the ground; you took Din’s hand in yours and tried to keep yourself from asking the hundreds of questions that ran through your mind.

She set the lantern down and placed your baby on the stone nearest Din. Your baby looked up at his father with a sweet little smile before he looked back at Ahsoka, babbling to her again as she sat across from him.

Din shifted his weight onto the other foot; his impatience, his nervousness, was easy to read.

“Is he speaking?” he asked her. “Can you... understand him?”

Ahsoka tucked her hands under her cloak, considering his question.

“In a way,” she said. She looked up at you. “Grogu and I can feel each other’s thoughts.”

You felt a wild, sudden thrill in your chest like the beating wings of a caged bird.

“Grogu?” both of you asked.

Your baby swung his gaze over to you, his little ears flopping with the movement. He cooed and looked up at you with those big, starry eyes, and you felt a deep ache in your chest.

“Yes,” Ahsoka said. You almost didn’t hear her. “That’s his name.”

Oh.

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t think anything. You squeezed Din’s hand, tightly.

“Grogu,” he said again. Gentle, wondering. Your little one looked up at him and gave him a curious coo.

You couldn’t help your beaming smile, then, nor the rush of tears that accompanied it. You knelt in front of him and extended your hand to him; he took hold of your finger and waved it happily.

“Hi, my love,” you said softly, only for him to hear. “My little Grogu.”

His ears perked up and he showed you a toothy grin, and you thought your heart might break with love for him.

“That’s right,” you said, and your voice was wobbly with emotion. You ran your thumb over his fingers. “Your mama loves you, Grogu Djarin.”

He giggled when you pressed a kiss to his head, touching your cheek with his little hand.

You felt Din’s hand on your shoulder; he knelt next to you, but kept his gaze trained on Ahsoka.

“What did he say?” he asked her. “When you were talking?”

You looked up at Ahsoka; her expression was calm and somber.

“He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant,” she told you. “Many masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden. Someone took him from the temple.”

You sent a silent thank you to the jate’kara for keeping your little one safe, for whoever had hidden him from those who sought to do him harm.

“Then his memory becomes... dark,” Ahsoka said. “He seemed lost. Alone.”

You wondered how long he had been alone before Din found him. You knew he must have been lost before he came to you, but you didn't like to dwell on it. To know he had been raised with the Jedi and had Masters train him and care for him, only to be taken away so suddenly and left all alone, tracked by bounty hunters and hunted by the Empire - you wished you could protect him from everything that had ever hurt him.

“I’ve only known one other being like this,” Ahsoka said. “A wise Jedi master named Yoda.”

Your baby - Grogu - looked over at her at the Jedi master’s name. She smiled.

“Can he still wield the Force?” she asked.

Din cocked his head. “You mean his powers?”

As much as you wanted to know more about Grogu’s past, you let your husband carry the conversation; your little one was tired, and his head nodded as his eyes fluttered shut. You gathered him into your arms and held him close; he grabbed a fistful of your shirt and snuggled close to you.

“The Force is what gives him his powers,” she explained. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

Din considered this. “I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. Both of us have.”

His grip on your shoulder tightened, a warning and a comfort.

“Our task was to bring him to a Jedi,” he said.

Ahsoka shook her head. “The Jedi order fell a long time ago.”

“So did the Empire,” Din countered. “Yet it still hunts him. He needs your help.”

She looked at the baby in your arms for a long moment, the barest hints of sorrow and regret lining her face. However long ago the fall of the Jedi order had been, you knew she had not yet healed from the loss.

“Let him sleep,” she said gently. “I’ll test him in the morning.”

She rose, hesitating before she turned away. She looked at the three of you.

“He doesn’t feel lost or alone any more,” she said. “Not with you.”

You knew from her voice that she was telling you the truth. You searched her face, gratitude and sympathy warring as you saw the complicated mix of emotions across her expression.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely, your voice tight. “You’ve given us a great gift, Ahsoka. We’re more grateful to you than you know.”

Her smile was genuine, if shadowed by sadness. “You’re welcome.”

You watched her go, her figure enveloped by shadows as she stepped out of the light of the lantern. You wondered if she had any family, if she too had been lost and alone after the Jedi order fell.

You looked down at your baby.

“Grogu,” you said softly, not intending to wake him. It was a good name, fitting for your little one. Grogu of Clan Djarin, sharing name and soul with you and Din.

“Come on, cyare,” your husband said, his voice low so as not to wake the baby. He helped you to your feet and held you close for a moment, you and Grogu held safely in the circle of his arms.

“I can’t believe we know his name,” Din said softly. He brushed a finger over his son’s ear. “Grogu. Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, ad’ika.”

You swallowed. Your adoption vow meant that much more now that you knew his name. Din tapped his helm against the crown of your head, like a gentle kiss.

“We should try and get some rest,” he said. “I know you didn’t plan on being away from the Crest so long, though. I'm sorry.”

You shrugged. “It’ll be like the old days, right?” you said. You gave him a smile. “You forget I went with you on lots of hunts back then, and we ended up sleeping under the stars more than once.”

He put his hand around your waist and drew you close as he steered you towards a small clearing in the brush.

“Oh no, cyare,” he said, an edge of teasing to his voice. “I haven’t forgotten those nights.”

You felt your face warm a little despite the cool night air. Back then, when the two of you were newly married and chasing the rush of bounty hunting, you rarely spent your nights under the stars just sleeping. That desire for each other had never dimmed, but becoming parents had cut down on your opportunities to be spontaneous, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had such a... risky liaison with your husband.

Din settled himself on the ground, his back propped up against a broad tree trunk. “We should do that again, sometime.”

You curled up next to him, resting against his chest and drawing his cloak around you and your baby. Din put his arms around you slowly ran his hand up and down your arm.

“Do what?” you asked. You hid a yawn behind your hand and leaned your head on his collar. “Start hunting again?”

He hummed in agreement. “Or just fly somewhere and go at each other as many times as we can before we get caught.”

You laughed. “Din,” you chided. You weren’t necessarily opposed to it, but you were less adventurous in that way than you had been back then. You preferred to make love to your husband somewhere you wouldn’t get caught.

He chuckled and drew you closer. “I’m only teasing,” he said. “But, we are going to have a new baby soon. Our chances for something like that are about to be few and far between.”

You hadn’t really though of that - bounty hunting would become more difficult than ever with two babies. Though you had enough credits saved that you didn’t need to hunt now, it was something you would have to work out eventually. But you were already overwhelmed with everything that had happened today; there was no use worrying about your future when you couldn’t do anything to change it right now.

You cuddled closer to your husband for warmth. “Sorgan,” you said.

He gave a soft grunt as he got comfortable. “What about it?”

Despite the darkness, and your back turned to him, you smirked. “You can go at me as many times as you want before we get caught, when we go back to Sorgan.”

“I thought we were going back to Sorgan to have the baby,” he said. His voice was intrigued, though, and you knew you’d piqued his interest.

You gave a half-shrug. “I guess you’ll have to take me back before then,” you said cooly. He would have taken you back regardless, if you asked and he thought it was safe; but you kind of liked the idea of getting back to your more adventurous days, even if it was just in the woods on a backwater planet rather than on a high-adrenaline bounty hunt.

He gave a soft laugh. “Alright, cyare,” he said. “You’ve still got a little shereshoy in you, hm?”

That was a Mandalorian word for living life to the fullest, having a zeal for the enjoyment of each day, no matter what it brought. You and Din had lived like that before Grogu came to be with you, in the traditional way; you still believed you lived it out now, even if it looked different than it had back then. You were a wife and a mother, and you loved it and wanted to do it for the rest of your life. It was a different kind of shereshoy, but one you liked just as much.

A little bit of adventure wouldn’t hurt, though.

“We’ll go back to Sorgan,” he promised. “Sometime before the baby’s born.”

He didn't say whether Grogu would be with you, and you didn’t ask. There’d be plenty of time for working through that with Ahsoka tomorrow, in all its confusion and sadness and worry. For right now, you were together - and that was enough for all of you.

Read chapter four!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekcryptid, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @stardust-galaxies, @theorganasolo, @qhbr2013 ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven, @sarahjkl82-blog, @remmysbounty, @bitchin-beskar, @cosmicbreathe, @prettyboyskywalker, @happyxdayxbitch, @radiowallet ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

#this series is proving to be a little more challenging than the other two? idk if i'm 100% satisfied with it #but i think it's still very cute and i hope you like it <3 #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian chapter 13 #chapter 13: the jedi #aay'han mar'eyce #jate'kara series #maddie writes stuff!#usercaty #clan dinui #(cate i smiled so much using those tags ily)

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cant-think-of-anything · 3 years

Text

Pirate AU (Part Three)

Cordelia and Alastair stood outside a small café, her hat dipped low to hide her face. Lucie had told her that she was bringing her cousin, so she thought it only fair to drag her brother along as well. Alastair seemed apprehensive, claiming Eugenia was already watchful of them but Cordelia countered by saying this could be a way to prove their innocence.

The problem with waiting outside in London though was that it was pouring. Constantly.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” Alastair said, scowling as he shook rain soaked dark hair from his eyes.

“A few hours of being social will not kill you dadash.”

His eyebrows raised at the use of their native language. They spoke a mixture of English and Persian when they were at home, but using it anywhere else elicited dirty stares that made Cordelia want to stab something with Cortana. Alastair looked as if he was going to say something but a strong blow of icy water into their faces before he had the chance.

Before Cordelia could contemplate unanchoring their ship and sailing somewhere warmer, she heard her name being called. Lucie and the presumed Eugenia Lightwood were hurrying towards them, umbrellas nearly being blown out of their hands. Cordelia propped the door open for them, offering a smile to Lucie who’s eyes were bright from the wind instead of tears.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Lucie said in an overjoyed whisper, a complete contrast to the last time they had spoken, though Cordelia suspected it was a front. Lucie’s cheerfulness was most definitely a pretense but Cordelia understood why she had it in place. “ Eugenia desperately needs a distraction and as do I.”

Cordelia smiled, enjoying Lucie’s happiness as she watched Alastair and Eugenia have a sort of staring competition. “I had to drag Alas- my brother here. He isn’t fond of social outings.”

“So,” Eugenia said smoothly when they were seated, “Your brother here is rather good at slipping out of conversations isn’t he?”

Alastair scowled as he usually did, as if he was trying to kill someone by looking at them. “Cornering new arrivals is something you do often then?”

“What tea do you want!” Cordelia cut in brightly, waving the menu in their face.

“Black.” They responded in unison, their glares intensifying.

“Will Thomas be joining us?” Lucie asked her eyes darting between the two as if she either wanted to laugh or flee.

At that Eugenia’s eyes went soft and worried. “He hasn’t returned home yet. He isn’t usually the reckless type but-” She cut herself off.

“Who’s Thomas?” Cordelia asked gently, trying not to overstep. She felt Alastair lean forward as if he was interested in the answer as well.

“My brother. He saw the note and took off.”

“Note?”

Eugenia looked between Cordelia and Lucie, confusion clouding her face. “Lucie didn’t tell you? I thought the two of you were- oh. Well there was a note left in the Institute, by the killer,” Her voice hitched on that word, “or some cruel person who wants to make our lives more hellish.”

“What did the note say?” Alastair asked, his voice low.

Eugenia shrugged and pulled a paper from her pocket, sliding it across the table. Cordelia inhaled sharply and felt Alastair’s arm tense before she had the chance to read what the note said. The symbol at the bottom. She had seen it before. A crude jagged line that had been carved into numerous wrecked ships around the ocean. She’d watched those ships fall.

As for who it belonged to, that was a mystery.

Cordelia was getting tired of mysteries.

Lucie, who had been watching Cordelia with a confused expression, stood up suddenly and grabbed her hand.

“I- what?” Cordelia stammered, horror and confusion hazing her mind.

“I think we have matters to discuss.

Pulling Cordelia away from the table, she led the two of them into a dim hallway before whirling around, her cheeks faintly pink.

“You’re lying to us aren’t you?”

Cordelia drew back sharply, which seemed to give Lucie all the confirmation she needed.

“You are,” She murmured. “Tell me it wasn’t you? You didn’t do this to my cousin?”

“No-Goodness, Lucie no.”

“You’re lying about something. How did you get on the guest list? Who are you? Did you have something to do with Barbra?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with her, I swear it.” At Lucie’s intense stare she felt her resolve crumble a bit.

“You need to prove it. Please.”

Cordelia looked at Lucie again, her blue eyes were blazing. She told herself that this was an awful idea, that she had only known Lucie for one afternoon. She felt an odd sort of connection to her, that much was true, but was that really enough? Perhaps if she denied Lucie the truth then she would go to her parents, incriminating them even more. Cordelia knew all it took to get her imprisoned was a word claiming her guilt.

Cordelia let out a soft sigh of defeat and lowered her voice. “I might have to show you. You wouldn’t believe it otherwise.”

~~~

Alastair wondered what demon had possessed his sister to have made her sit alone at a table with Eugenia. He determinedly stared at the wall, praying she wouldn’t attempt at small talk. Not that she seemed like the type.

“Why did you react that way?”

Alastair startled. “What?”

“When I gave you the note you and your sister looked as if someone slapped you.”

He internally cursed himself for allowing such a see-through expression, but he truly hadn’t been expecting it. It meant that the killer they were dealing with was a pirate, more than that, a pirate that belonged to one of the most dangerous crews known.

“It was a startling note then,” He grumbled, casting a backwards glance at Cordelia who didn’t look anywhere near done talking.

“The writing was too small for you to have read it that quickly.”

Privately, he was surprised that she noticed so much. It would be admirable if it wasn’t so aggravating.

“We aren’t responsible for what happened at the party,” he snapped instead.

“I’m aware. I don’t believe you’re guilty, but I do believe that there’s something important you’re keeping from us.”

“Of course. We’re strangers.”

Eugenia rolled her eyes and leaned forward. “I don’t want your snark. I want your help.”

Before Alastair could respond or even process what she said, Cordelia and Lucie arrived back at the table.

“Am I to tell Eugenia?” Lucie asked.

“Tell her what exactly?” Alastair muttered to Cordelia, who had a somewhat sheepish look on her face.

“So Alastair do you have skulls on your masts?” Lucie chirped happily, taking a sip of her tea. “Eye patches? Maybe a peg leg?”

“Cordelia!”

The note lay forgotten between them as the siblings bickering took the attention. It’s words were scribbled in a suspicious red that grew darker the longer you looked.

Your families have wronged mine in ways you couldn’t imagine. Vengeance must be taken and vengeance is often taken out on innocent people isn't it? Don’t assume that this is over.

~~~

Kamala knelt in front of the telescope, her dark hair fluttering uncomfortably in the soft sea winds. The barely discernible block of land known as London lay little ways away. She plucked a quill from where it rested in it’s inkwell charting the estimated distance of her journey. She was something of a self proclaimed sailing master, charged by Tatiana to travel the seas in her name. It wasn’t a pleasant job exactly, but the pay was good.

She absentmindedly rubbed the needle in her hand against the lodestone resting on the table, watching as it grew magnetized and swung to true north. A soft thud sounded behind her, but Kamala didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“London?” The girl’s voice was icy as always, nearly as sharp as the wind tearing through her thin blouse.

“London. We have a job.”

Grace scoffed and came up next to her to lean against her table, cluttered with maps and compasses. Tatiana had taken Grace when she had been very young, twisting and molding her into the girl she was now. Kamala had come soon after, hired from a village where she had been running out of money. Everyone came for selfish reasons she supposed, but she never understood Grace’s motives to stay.

“What’s in London?” Grace asked, “Besides Tatiana.”

Kamala winced. “The Herondales.”

Grace’s face twisted into an unpleasant scowl, she turned on her heel and disappeared to enter the hold where their beds were kept. The Herondales were a touchy subject. She didn’t understand the full story, just knew that Tatiana made a public offer to marry off Grace and the Herondales declined; just as publicly. Then again Tatiana had a way of twisting the truth and Grace a way of believing it.

Kamala steeled herself before rapping her knuckles on the door leading to the captain’s cabin. The door swung open rather quickly revealing the captain of their ship. A man named Belial. He had been aboard longer than even Grace, terrorizing the seas alongside Tatiana and the rest of their crew, but as far as Kamala knew there were no romantic ties.

Belial, though she would never admit such a thing, frightened her. She relayed the direction they were meant to be headed and tried not to appear as if she was fleeing when she retreated into the hold.

“Ms. Joshi.” Belial said, stopping her in her tracks.

“Yes?” She asked, wondering what would happen if she pushed him overboard.

“When we arrive in London there’s something I need you to do, since Tatiana will have her hands full with her vendetta against the Herondales” When she didn’t respond he continued. “ Our other ships have reported sightings of the Carstairs. In London.”

Kamala stiffened. She’d only seen the Carstairs ship once, hadn’t seen their small crew at all but she’d heard enough about them. The boy with cold eyes and sharp daggers, the girl with red hair and a golden sword that marked their family.

“What exactly is it that I’m meant to do?” She asked, clearing the roughness from her voice.

“Lure them here. Locate them and bring them to this ship.”

“You want me to capture them?”

A cruel smile twisted his face. “No. I want you to kill them.”

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno and @barbra-lightwood

Props to Alastair for being able to canonically pick up a language he’d stopped speaking for several years, I still feel so awkward about talking in my native language.

#alastair carstairs #eugenia lightwood #lucie herondale #cordelia carstairs #kamala joshi #grace blackthorn #thomas lightwood #lucelia #the last hours #tlh #tsc

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pastelsandpining · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 12: Who Are You?

You already know what’s coming. Have a poorly written, way too long, and posted way too early angst prompt. Sorry for the lack of a read more and any weird formatting, I’m on mobile 🙄

Pairing: Zelink

Summary: Link doesn’t remember. Not sure what else you expected

Warnings: depression, poorly written survivor’s guilt

Words: 2821

Masterlist

~~~

“Who are you?”

Three simple words, yet they weren’t what stung. It was the blunt and direct way he said them, leaving very little room for hope that he might’ve been joking. There was always a possibility that the stasis recovery would deprive him of his memories, and for the shortest of seconds, she wondered if she really had taken those precautions. But she had, and still he stood before her with the sword that sealed the darkness and very little memory of what it meant--if any. Yet after holding the Calamity back for over a century, this would not be what broke her.

“Zelda,” she replied softly, fighting to keep the hurt from her voice. If he could not remember, then that was not his fault. Perhaps the pictures didn’t work. Maybe he remembered nothing at all.

“Right,” Link replied with an awkward nod. His eyebrows furrowed as if the name rang a bell somewhere in the depths of his empty mind, but his tone of voice said otherwise. Zelda held her hands a little tighter, draining the color from her knuckles, and willed herself not to cry. She was stronger than this. It wasn’t his fault.

“Hyrule owes you everything,” she said as she took a slight step backwards. Maybe he noticed, because his hand moved. He dropped it before she could figure out its path. “Thank you.”

“Are you.. okay?” he asked. His eyes overlooked her with worry, scanning her for injury, even without a clue of who she was. Zelda fought the urge to step away and hide from his gaze.

“Yes,” she answered with a nod and a strained smile. “I’m okay.”

She should have been happy. She should have been reuniting with the grass and the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the world around her. But all she could do was stare at him, as if she could will him to remember or transfer her memories to him. It was in vain, and she didn’t know what else she could say to him. She’d wanted to say so much, to tell him once and for all how much he meant to her and how grateful she was that he still fought on her side, but none of it would serve any purpose now.

So Zelda turned her eyes away and looked instead to the remains of the castle. It looked familiar now that there were no guardians surrounding it, and no towering pillars encasing it like fingers threatening to crush it.

“Zelda..”

Her name did not sound the way it used to when he said it. He sounded hesitant, like he was asking whether that really was her name. It hurt that he didn’t know it.

It wasn’t his fault.

She looked towards him over her shoulder.

“Yes?” she asked. He looked as if suddenly, he couldn’t find his words.

“I, uh.. the castle is.. I can bring you to Impa.”

Impa. Zelda could do little more than nod to his offer. Her dear friend had survived the carnage, but that also meant that Link had indeed made it to Kakariko Village. She bit back the bitter thoughts and instead told herself that maybe she didn’t have all of the answers. Maybe the pictures simply didn’t work.

Link nodded to her and turned away, and she followed him wordlessly to his horse. Exhaustion was beginning to build in every last inch of her body, leaving little room for anything else after such an adrenaline rush. Yet guilt slithered its way in, as did immense sadness and a new, overwhelming loneliness. Link did not know who she was, and she knew that it might happen, but it just felt like she’d officially lost everything to the Calamity.

Her foot hit a rock and she stumbled. A quiet hiss left her lips as she dug her fingernails into her palms, and again, she fought back the tears with a wave of fury. No, she would not break now, not in front of him.

But it was hard when he looked back at her, those sky blue eyes shining with concern.

She averted her eyes, hoping to avoid the lie she’d give if he asked any question. Link said nothing, but his glances back to her became more frequent and she kept her eyes stubbornly locked on the grass beneath her feet.

“Do you have the strength to ride?” Link asked at last, when he came to a stop in front of her.

“I know the way to Kakariko,” Zelda replied as she lifted her head. It was a new feeling, a desperate one that made her heart beat so hard in her chest that she had no choice but to be aware of it. She didn’t want him to feel guilty over something he had no control over, but she also did not want his pity. She did not want him to look at her with that concern in his eyes, with his urge to help everyone he came across. Was that all she was to him now that he couldn’t remember? Just another person to help once and never see again?

It wasn’t his fault.

Zelda forced a small smile onto her lips and folded her hands again.

“I appreciate everything, really,” she continued. “But you needn’t worry.”

“You’ll never make it.” His reply was blunt, but goddesses knew he was right. She hadn’t slept, or eaten, or done anything other than hold back the Calamity for months once the stasis had broken. It was starting to take a toll, between the headache and the weakness, but she had no appetite and too heavy of a heart to sleep. Yet a century had done little to change her stubborn nature.

“I’ll be alright,” she insisted. “It’s really not that far-”

“I’m heading to Hateno anyway, and we can stop at a stable.”

Zelda took a breath. He wouldn’t be giving up easily, would he? The soul of a hero through and through, she supposed, even with little recollection of it.

“Alright,” she replied.

Except she didn’t make it to the stable. Link refused to let her walk and instead led the horse through Hyrule field himself, but no matter how hard she held to the reins, she succumbed to exhaustion.

When she stirred and pried her eyes open, she still felt as tired as she had before she’d fallen asleep. Except, she didn’t remember falling asleep. She was fairly certain she hadn’t made it to a bed either, but there was a soft pillow beneath her head and warm blankets hugging her, tempting her to fall back into the bliss of sleep. Instead, she slowly pushed herself up and rubbed at her eyes.

There were a few other beds identical to hers pressed to the circular walls. There were people bustling about, going in and out and chattering excitedly about something she couldn’t make out. The sunlight was too bright out the curtained doors of the stable for it to be morning. Zelda pressed her feet to the floor and started towards the stable exit, hugging her arms close to her chest.

“...just a few days ago! I haven’t seen it since-”

“...no idea what happened-”

“...say it’s a descendant of the champion-”

Well, she supposed a swirling beast disappearing from Hyrule Castle would be an interesting topic of conversation.

The light was blinding, and she almost bumped into someone due to it. She stumbled to the side, grabbing the door frame as she mumbled out an apology.

“You’re awake,” they replied. Zelda blinked hard, and Link came into focus. “I thought you might’ve had a concussion.”

“Why would I have a concussion?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“You fell,” he answered. “And the horse is high enough from the ground to cause injury.”

“Oh.” A wave of embarrassment washed over her and she stepped outside into the warmth of the sun so she didn’t have to look at him. He looked just the same as he had when he shielded her with his body, and yet she had no idea if he even remembered doing it.

“You were out for a while,” he replied from behind her. He sounded much closer than he had a century ago when he was reduced to three paces.

“How long?” she asked absentmindedly as she continued walking, though she didn’t know where she was going. Anywhere as long as she was out from under his gaze, she supposed. Unlike all those years ago, it hurt more than anything to know he was looking at her as a stranger. But goddesses, it wasn’t his fault, and she knew it was a possibility, so why did she feel so frustrated with him? Or maybe it was with herself for being naive enough to hope things could return to normal after the fall of her friends and her kingdom.

“Three days.”

That made her pause. She’d slept for three days. Why hadn’t he left? Zelda pushed the thought from her mind and turned to face him with another deep breath.

“I apologize for the delay,” she said, folding her hands at her chest again--something that’d become an anxious tic. “We can continue to Kakariko whenever you’re ready.”

“Here.”

Link was holding a plate out to her. It looked like an omelette of sorts, with vegetables and meat thrown into the mix, and it was small enough that it wouldn’t cause her sickness from overeating. She took it carefully with shaking hands.

“Thank you,” she whispered out, and she told herself again that he didn’t know her. He was a kind heart down to his very soul, and he would help anyone that needed it until the end of time. Goddesses knew she didn’t want his help, not like this, but she needed it.

“Take your time,” he said and placed a glass of milk on the ground. “We’ll leave after you eat.”

Zelda nodded and slid next to the glass. Link turned his back on her and walked off to speak with the stable manager, and she forced her eyes off of him. She wanted to cry. The Calamity had really left her with nothing. No home, no family, no friends, and the one person she held out hope for hadn’t a clue who she was. She dug her fingers into her hair and pressed her forehead against her knees, fighting the sting in her eyes.

She couldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of all these strangers who would, without a doubt, come to her side and ask her if she was alright. And she didn’t know if she could answer that question without crying harder, because she wasn’t okay.

She lifted her head and took a bite of the omelette to pull herself out of her own head. It took every bit of strength she had left to keep from scarfing it down like an animal, because she was hungry even if her appetite was scarce. Even the milk, which she didn’t typically drink, was soothing and filling to her.

“I’m ready,” she said once she’d found Link again. He was standing with the horses, petting his own with a kind smile she hadn’t seen in years. She almost hated to interrupt it. The smile was gone as soon as he turned to face her. “But I can rent another horse and find my way to Kakariko myself.”

“I don’t trust you to not pass out again,” he replied, pulling his horse into the open area.

“I’m fine,” she insisted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why don’t you want any help?” he asked. There was an edge of frustration in his voice. Perhaps this new Link wasn’t used to people rejecting him. She almost gave him the truth.

“Because you needn’t go out of your way for me, Link. You deserve to go home and rest,” she replied, reaching a hesitant hand towards him that dropped (hopefully) before he noticed.

“So do you,” he answered as he shook his head. “You faced that thing alone for a century.”

What do you know about me?

But she didn’t ask, because it wasn’t his fault.

“I’m not helpless,” she defended.

“No, you’re not.” He nodded towards his horse without a word more. Zelda sighed and climbed up, deciding the argument wasn’t worth it. This wasn’t how she’d wanted their reunion to go, and this certainly wasn’t what she wanted him to know now that he didn’t remember.

Zelda held tighter to the reins this time and willed herself to stay awake. For the most part, it worked. Only when they neared Kakariko did she begin to grow sleepy, but it was suppressed by how happy she was to see that the quaint village was spared from the devastation that the Calamity had caused. And with the path they took, she was spared the sight of Fort Hateno and the memory that came with it.

Impa was much shorter and much older than when Zelda last saw her, but her smile was as warm as ever. She welcomed the princess just as she used to, and she thanked Link for all he had done, and not a minute passed after Link had left the house before Zelda’s resolve broke. She crumpled to the floor in front of Impa’s pillow stack and let the cry rip from her throat. She dug her fingernails into her palms and squeezed her eyes shut, and Impa’s small and wrinkled hand threaded through the knots in her hair.

A century had gone by without her. A century had passed without granting her the opportunity to grieve. A century had passed and forgot her in a nightmare, and she had no more strength to hold it back. It hurt. Everything hurt. Her father--goddesses, what was the last thing she’d said to him? It was their argument, his scolding on the bridge to her study, and never would she be able to see him again, speak to him again, to have a family member left to hug her or guide her. Had her father died disappointed in her, like many of her subjects did?

Their friends, Daruk, Mipha, and Revali, trapped within the machines that once obeyed them. They trusted her, she assured them they were safe within their Divine Beasts, and they were slaughtered mercilessly by a demon too powerful for their comprehension. She tried her best to keep watch over their homes once the stasis had broken, but what could she do? If she were to fail again, if her power were to give out before the savior arrived, then their homes would be given the same treatment the rest of the Hylian population had been subject to. Urbosa, the woman who’d become such a comfort in a time where she both needed and lacked a mother figure, who was a storm of power that couldn’t be stopped, was gone too.

And Link. She loved him so much that it hurt, she watched over him and did whatever she could to keep him safe through his journey, and he hardly knew her.

This was her punishment for her failure to awaken her power in time. This was her reward for saving Hyrule a moment too late.

“It hurts,” she choked out, clutching her fists tighter.

“I know, child,” Impa whispered to her.

Her best friend, subject to the passing of time. That was really all she had left now, wasn’t it? She supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she was appreciative nonetheless. She was even appreciative for Paya draping a blanket around her shoulders at some point during her breakdown.

The Sheikah were kind to her, even if she didn’t dare step foot outside of the protection of her dear friend. The only time she did was when Impa insisted she take a bath. Even though the water was warm and welcoming, Zelda spent very little time in it. She scrubbed her skin until it was red and washed her hair as best as she could, but she wanted so desperately to get back in the house.

They gave her a warm meal, too—with Impa monitoring how much she ate or drank, and Paya even offered her bed. Zelda tried to argue, to say she didn’t want to be a bother, but she insisted. The bed was warm and far softer than the one at the stable, and she was asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow. Her exhaustion was still extensive enough to ward off any dreams, to leave her in a deep and heavy sleep, but at the very least, this time she woke to morning light in the windows.

And when she dragged herself out of the comfort of the bed and questioned the whereabouts of Link, deciding perhaps she should take a day to speak with him, Paya was the one to tell her that he’d left.

#zelink #febuwhump #febuwhump day 12 #angst #post calamity #Zelda fandom getting a thousand of the same #scenario because we all saw ‘who are you’#and said aha what if

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laurelsofhighever · 3 years

Link

Almost two years after civil war nearly tore Ferelden apart, Alistair has settled into his role as king despite the cost of the victory. Having come to Orlais to lead trade talks with Empress Celene and representatives from the Free Marches, he hopes to build a stronger future for his people. But grief and guilt still haunt him, the expectations placed on his shoulders cut deep, and to top it all off, there's a stranger in the Winter Palace with the power to shatter his world once again.

CW: sleep paralysis in the beginning

Something hunted her. Avarice, perhaps, or Glory. The light in her hand drew them ever closer, blinding them to the glint of the dragonbone Talon she kept unsheathed by her side, the blade that longed to sate itself on their spirit flesh. For one, the rose was a trophy, for the other, the essence of all she hoped to gain. The forest around her hung close, crooked branches girdled by beards of hoary lichen, roots trying to trip her, the light above blocked by the canopy so that only the bobbing green glow of wisps remained to guide her along the path. They drifted towards her and darted away again like shoals of curious fish, and as ever, the demons gained. She would have to turn soon, to stand and fight though exhaustion snapped at her heels. And something else nagged at her too, a weightlessness, a disconnect between her actions and the world around her as if chains dragged at her limbs.

A dream, then. In realising it, she slipped into sunlight as the forest dissolved around her, opening her eyes to rich furnishings and sheets of gold brocade overlaid with soft pelts to keep out the cold, the warm pull of an arm thrown over her stomach. Alistair lay already alert beside her, the details of his face blurred by the haze of first waking but no less dear because of it. As her body rolled and turned into him, he rose above her to bring her close, untangling his arm from the bedclothes to embrace her.

“Bad dreams?” he asked, in a voice that didn’t quite reach her sleep-fogged ears.

She felt no desire to reply, and instead slid her hand into the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck to pull him down to her mouth. His touch stirred the banked embers in her chest, his weight melding them together, one body, one lick of heat through questing limbs –

But he had no scent. There was no scratch of stubble against her cheek.

Her consciousness erupted into the prone form of her slumbering body, but got no further. She commanded it to move. Her flesh responded like stone, and panic rose like water to freeze her lungs. Avarice might be leaning over her, its claws poised above her to rend life from her bones and claim her skin as its own, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t even feel her sword in her hand. A finger, an eyelid – anything that might bring her back to herself. She fought. She screamed inside her own head, pushing back at the darkness and at the illusion it fed her of her hands moving, the iron of her will useless against the dead weight of her limbs.

It must have been only moments before the paralysis recoiled and broke without warning, but it felt longer. It left her gasping in the dim, moonlit confines of an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar shape lumped among the pillows next to her. Despite her sudden start, the figure breathed in deep, even lungfuls of air, and as her eyes grew used to the dark, Rosslyn made out Alistair’s bearded face poking from the covers. His eyes roved under their lids, his lips parted slightly, while his hair – though longer than it had appeared in her dream – stuck out at all the odd angles she remembered. The certainty that she could not have imagined him so calmed the race of her heart and brought her back to where she was, the knotted string that had led her back into his life.

“No, Ambassador, I didn’t say that…”

His mumbles trailed off as he shifted under the covers, and she bit down on a smile. They had been in Highever when she first found out he talked in his sleep. She had teased him about it, and all the salacious things he might have uttered without the filter of his conscious mind to stop him, but even as her hand reached out to smooth his hair away from his face, the sweetness of the memories turned bitter. They had shared so little time together without the world getting in the way, brief weeks after only a year of knowing each other, and since then, she had lived two years in an endless Void, without anything to bar the sound of her own breath from her ears. He, meanwhile, had grown into the grace of his kingship without her. She had known he would, but it didn’t stop the whisperings of the snide voice at the back of her mind that told her he no longer needed her. What if everything, including his image, were just another dream?

She withdrew her hand without touching him.

Carefully, so Alistair wouldn’t notice, she shimmied out from under the covers and set her feet into the thick silk pile of the rug that guarded the bed like a moat. She counted her fingers, pressing her thumb to the tip of each one in turn, and then along the scar on her wrist that she had received from an accident in the training arena when she was still a beginner. The movements had become habit by now, but experience had taught her habit itself was dangerous, a way for the mind to skip over inconsistencies in favour of familiarity, and so to ground herself she closed her fist around Talon’s blue leather scabbard. Slowly, making sure to feel the difference between cool metal wire and rough drakeskin, she half-drew the blade and winced at the scrape of the dragonbone as it came free.

Here lay the test; she breathed deep relief when her reflection showed her eyes, a slice of the tapestry behind her, and nothing else. It did not warp into any monstrosity, or move while she sat still, and with a roll of her shoulders she eased the sword back into its rest. Not that it stopped her hands from shaking. With a last long glance over her shoulder, she rose and padded across the expanse of gilded carpet, with Talon held tight in her left hand so the buckles wouldn’t jingle.

No expense had been spared in the appointments of the Emperor’s bedchamber. The high ceiling had been painted blue and dusted with silver stars that glinted in the moonlight spilling in from the windows. The largest of them mapped out the constellations visible in the night sky, though as she gazed upwards, Rosslyn noted that they had been arranged according to aesthetics, rather than accuracy to the true heavens her mother had taught her to read as a child. With a rueful twitch of her lips, she turned away and skirted the suite of chaises and spindle-legged sofas that clustered around the fire, their fine silk threads a heady texture under the trail of her fingers.

She found the opulence garish, from the sculpted marble halla framing the hearth to the tapestries on the wall that showed scenes of nobles hunting or riding into battle on horses with faces that seemed almost human, and she imagined the expression Alistair might have let slip when he first opened the door. Only the drift of woodsmoke from the fire brought her any familiarity, the faint, whining hiss of its heart filling the silence as she explored. A bookcase stood in the corner of the room at the edge of the fire’s shaky glow, but close enough to spark against the gold-leafed titles on the spines. Still unsettled, she tilted her head to read them, mouthing their names to herself before she pulled out a likely tome concerning natural science and let the pages fall open on a discussion of dragon anatomy. She forced herself to see the shape of the words as well as their meaning, the first sentence on a page and then the last, and then the first again to make sure it hadn’t changed.

“Rosslyn?”

She dropped the book and turned, Talon already ringing out of the scabbard as she sank into a defensive crouch at the unexpected voice. Blinking groggily, Alistair sat up in the bed, running a hand through his hair to smooth it down. His eyes shifted from her face to the weapon in her hand and the battle-ready stance she was too slow to hide.

“What are you doing over there?” he asked as she turned towards the window and tried to calm the race of her pulse. She heard him kick the covers away, the grumbled command to the glowstone, and the pad of his bare feet across the floor.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Even though she heard him coming, she flinched when he touched her arm.

He edged closer. “Bad dreams?”

She clenched her jaw against the chill of déjà vu down her spine. “Something like that.”

“Are you alright?” he asked.

A sigh tumbled from her lips as she ducked her head, as she leaned into the hand sliding into the small of her back and fought against the part of her that wanted to make light of what he must have seen. And yet, hadn’t she been trying for months to find him again? His lack at her side had been a physical ache beyond even the scars the Fade had left on her; to shut him out now when he was reaching out seemed too much like madness, like being bested by the fear she had pushed back for so long.

“When I was in the Fade, it was difficult sometimes to tell what was real,” she admitted, drawing her hands around herself. “When I had to sleep I’d wander through the dreams of others, and when I woke up I could never really be sure that I really was awake or if it was just some trap set by a demon. It’s been… hard to adjust back.” She kept her gaze on the carpet, but then she didn’t need to look to feel the cautious sympathy radiating from every line in Alistair’s body.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I…” The heat of his palm was a distraction, a reminder of all the times she had opened her eyes on his image and wondered whether the illusion might be worth succumbing to it. She had been alone too long, and left too many pieces of herself behind with the corpse of the Nightmare. But he was too clever, reading her silence and the fear behind it as if the words were scrawled across her face, and he moved close so that his bulk and his scent might fold her away from the world, cupping her jaw to lay a kiss at her temple.

“What will help?” he asked.

Rosslyn let herself wrap around him; her body acted on its own initiative and buried into his shoulder as her mind drifted back to the bad episodes of the first few days, when Merrill had led her through reality and shown her all the ways to rely on her senses again.

“Details,” she said, content to lose herself in the rhythm his fingers made against the back of her neck. “Things to ground me, that my mind can’t make up.”

“Such as?”

“Words on a page, smells…” She allowed herself a smirk. “That damned beard.”

“More baseless attacks against facial hair?” He tutted, shaking his head and deliberately mussing her hair with the accused beard in the process. “You’re still as cruel as ever, dear lady.”

Her heart fluttered. “I’m still ‘dear lady’?”

“Always.”

When she could stand to lean away, she looked up at him, gazing at her with the same oak-bronze eyes she remembered, the same flecks of gold, the calm and the rapture and the certainty that had steadied her soul from the beginning. Unable to bear the weight of his expression, she turned her focus to the slight bow-curve of his mouth, and the growth of hair that accentuated the strong line of his jaw. It was several shades darker than that on the rest of his head, though as she gently raked her fingers through it, strands of copper and gold caught in the glowstone’s light. His eyes slipped closed at the touch and she smirked wider.

“You like that,” she murmured.

He hummed. “I never thought it would feel so nice.”

If they had been together, they would have discovered such sensitivity long ago.

“Rosslyn?”

She bolstered her crumbling smile. “I just thought of a use for these bristles of yours.”

“Mm?”

Instead of answering, she closed her fingers and drew him down with the lightest pressure until they met in a soft brush of lips. “That’s a much easier way of getting you to kiss me.”

“Easier than just being in the same room as me?” he teased. “Easier than being brave and beautiful and everything I’ve ever wanted?”

She let go. His smile was earnest but she couldn’t look at it, blinding and stealing her breath as if she were stepping out into the sun on a winter’s day. And still, his sigh cleaved her like a butcher’s knife as his hand skimmed the length of her arm to where Talon still rested in a white-knuckled fist.

“I have guards outside,” he told her. “You’re safe. Whatever hunted you before, I won’t let it get you here.”

She remembered another night, after an attempt on her life, when he had sworn himself to her defence. “So Orlais has run out of assassins, then?” asked lightly.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured, raising her knuckles to his lips. “Or – we could read one of the books, if…”

“If I don’t think this is real? You don’t need to worry about that, I’m convinced.”

The tension knitted tight through his shoulders unspooled. “I’m glad.”

“You don’t have to stay up on my account.” A smile ghosted across her mouth, brief and unconvincing. “This is hardly my first night without sleep, and from what I overheard earlier, you have negotiations to attend in the morning.”

“And rob you of the company? Perish the thought. Besides,” he added, bending past her to pick up the book she had been skimming, “Une étude de draconides du sud sounds fascinating.”

“It’s rather dry, actually.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Then maybe it’ll send us back to sleep faster. Come on, those chaises look comfortable, even if they’re gaudier than any furniture has a right to be.”

Defeated, Rosslyn sighed and let herself be tugged along, unable to entirely fend off the infectious grin sent her way, or the squeeze in her chest as she sat and Alistair knelt before her on the floor to wrap a heavy blanket around her shoulders.

“Will you read to me?” she asked.

His smile softened. “Of course. Now budge up.”

Negotiating the chaise took more effort than the bed. Despite being wide enough for the voluminous panniers favoured by Orlesian fashion, the springy, overstuffed cushions had not been designed to accommodate even one person lying down, much less two who had become unused to coordinating their limbs. After a lot of awkward folding and a brief interlude where she made him sit up again to take one half of the blanket, Rosslyn settled on her side with her back against the chaise and her cheek resting on Alistair’s shoulder in order to see the pages as he read them. Talon, still within reach, had been propped against the armrest.

“Now, let’s see, where shall we start…”

Heaving a contented sigh as he flicked through the pages, she snuggled closer and wrapped her free arm more fully around his waist. The movement pushed up the loose hem of his nightshirt, and without thinking she followed the feel of warm skin and slipped her hand beneath the fabric, pleased with the small hum elicited by the movement. After a moment, however, she paused, frowning. Instead of the smooth expanse of muscle she had once known almost as well as her own body, her fingertips tracked along a line of hard, raised tissue that curved across the point of Alistair’s hip.

“What…”

“Rosslyn?”

She levered herself upright and lifted the fabric to get a better look at the scar. “I don’t remember this.” Three long, uneven stripes stood out pale against the richer tone of his skin, faded enough that the initial blow must have been healed by magic, but still livid pink beneath where the new flesh didn’t quite meld with the old.

“Oh, that. It’s nothing, really.” He pulled the shirt down again to cover it, and dragged her hand to his lips. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It looks like it hurt,” she pressed.

He smiled, too wide. “Barely felt it, actually. This looks like a promising page –”

“What happened?”

“Just leave it alone!”

Stunned, she flinched away to better look at him, at the immediate regret in his eyes and the wariness that still lurked behind it.

“Rosslyn –”

“It happened at Ostagar, didn’t it?” she said, and felt her stomach lurch as he sat up and hunched over with his elbows on his knees.

“It… It was while they were still clearing the rubble. There was still hope, but not much, and every rock they lifted where they didn’t find you…” He bit his lip. “It all got too much in the end, so I took a party out to hunt down the demons that escaped the rift’s collapse. One got a lucky swipe.”

All because of her. She shut her eyes and dropped her forehead to his shoulder to banish the image of him, wounded and grieving and hating her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he murmured “You’re the one who was always telling me not to drop my guard.”

“If I had been there…”

“No. Don’t do that. I’ve spent two years wondering what might have been.” Arms wrapped around her waist, fingers under her jaw coaxing her to look at him. “You’re here, now, and everything’s going to be alright.”

Still unsure, she shook her head. “I thought this would all be so easy. I thought I could just… walk back into my life like none of it happened. But everything’s so different.” Just because she had been stuck in time, she had assumed the same of everything else, that she might return to the moment she first struck the Nightmare and still have her place as the Falcon without politics or resentment to cloud her triumph. The worst of it, the part she could barely admit even to herself, was that everything from her return to Harrowhill to the painted stars above her might not be real at all, and yet she had wearied so much that not even the guilt of surrender could make her care. Perhaps the real Alistair had died along with her at Ostagar, the only thing left of him this illusion, a phantom set of hands around her waist the closest she would ever get to him again.

The pressure of those hands tightened before she could move away, drawn into his lap instead with the blanket forgotten around her knees.

“Not everything is different,” he said. “Not the important things. You’re still my wife.”

Her breath caught in her lungs.

“Unless…” A pause. “Rosslyn, when this is over – when you’ve done what you have to for Flemeth and these trade talks have been hammered out – you will come back with me, won’t you? Ferelden still needs its queen.” He swallowed. “And even if it didn’t, there’s not a moment that’s gone by that I haven’t needed you. It’s been awful, I’ve missed you so much.”

Something sharp constricted in her chest as the firelight caught in his eyes, on the tears he rapidly tried to blink away. “I didn’t know if you’d want me like before,” she confessed.

“Of course I do.” For the second time, the book tumbled to the floor, this time displaced from his lap so he could turn and take her face between both of his hands. “I love you. I never stopped.”

“I’ve caused you so much pain –”

“It’s alright,” he repeated, again, stroking her face with his fingers as he leaned forwards and pressed his brow to hers. “You came back to me. It’s alright.”

Soothed by the patterns he was drawing across the back of her neck, she shifted until her legs pressed on either side of his. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m here. Rosslyn, I…”

His hands had wandered again, palms ghosting down her back and over her thighs, pulling her closer while his knees came up behind her to take more of her weight, to tip her forward onto his chest. She cupped his face and kissed him before he could gather himself enough to speak, and then followed the line of his jaw with lighter brushes of her lips to the pulse point in his neck, her concentration only broken when he found the hem of her borrowed shirt and slinked into a tighter embrace against her skin.

His teeth rasped against her shoulder, a chuckle low in his throat. “We’re supposed to be reading, dear lady.”

“You’re the one who started this,” she murmured back, as her fingers inched beneath his collar.

“You’re the one encouraging me,” he retorted. “Maker, I can’t get you close enough – tell me you don’t want to stop.”

“It’s not that…” A worry tugged at the small corner of her mind not yet consumed by the sensation of being touched, growing in presence until it could not be ignored. “I don’t know if I’m – if we’re still, uh, protected.”

“Ah.” To her relief, he didn’t push her away, and instead leaned back against the chaise with his arms around her shoulders. “And you don’t have any of that tea with you?”

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to need it.”

For an instant, the shadow of thwarted expectation hung in the air, mingling with her worry about the cost of her hesitation, until with the breath of a low, rumbled laugh, Alistair sent the tension blowing away like errant cobwebs on a breeze.

“I’m sure we’ll dig some up from somewhere eventually,” he allowed, helping her adjust so she lay adjacent rather than astride his lap. “Besides, after two years, I can’t say it would have been my best performance anyway.”

She stretched up, careful not to jab a knee into where it wouldn’t be appreciated, and pecked him on the cheek before tucking herself back against his side. “The performance isn’t what I care about.”

“I love you. Have I said that yet?”

“I could stand to hear it again.”

Their fingers laced, and for a while only the fire made conversation.

“It occurs to me,” he offered eventually, with a sly wiggle of his eyebrows, “there are other things we could do. If you wanted. We could find out why that bed is so ridiculously big.”

“We could,” she replied, careful. “But… I think I want this over first. I’m still bound, and I want to feel like myself when I call you my husband again.”

Another sigh heaved through his body, shuddered with uncertainty. “‘Husband’. I’ve missed hearing that. I’ve missed –” He scrubbed at his eyes. “You know, we never got our honeymoon. We said we’d go to Eastwatch when the war was over, but we never made it.”

“We were going to take picnics to the riverbank.”

They’d had it pictured so clearly before Ostagar, a shining beacon for which to strive, when their responsibilities might fall away just for a little while and allow them the peace that had always at the last eluded them. Her family’s estate, couched in a slow meander of the River Rangett with the sweeping glades and pastures of Marl-land beyond, had seemed the perfect remedy to the demands claimed of them by war.

“I left Teagan in charge in Denerim,” Alistair mused. “There’ll have to be a progress to show you off to the people now that you’re back, but I’m sure we can persuade the guard to lose us on the Imperial Highway – what are you laughing at?”

She drew his knuckles to her lips. “You. Talking like a politician. Plotting. You’ve grown.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on the number of fine cheeses I’ve been sampling of late,” he huffed, shifting beneath her.

She recognised the deflection for what it was but let it go, realising the dark turn of her thoughts must have shown in her voice, the knowledge that so much of the person he had become was a stranger to her. And yet, as he reached down to retrieve the now sadly crumpled Une étude des draconides from where it had fallen, the way their bodies fit together and the logs cracking in the fire brought back all the promise she had felt in those few weeks by his side as they waited out her recovery from the Battle of Highever, the winter nights long and the frozen wind turned aside by the thick walls of her childhood home. He had read to her then, too, taking her away from the pain of her healing wounds to places woven by his voice alone, with his heartbeat under her ear and his fingers idle in her hair.

“Is the book alright?” she asked.

“A bit creased,” he answered. “But intact.”

“Good. Tell me about dragons.”

He read from the book until his voice turned hoarse, the winding prattle of academic language somewhat beyond his grasp of conversational Orlesian, but he tried keep the flow of words in cadence to at least get the general meaning. When he finally laid it aside and pinched his hands over his eyes to refocus his vision, the first rime of daylight could just be seen over the distant trees outside, a faint lilac stain against the ink of night swallowing the stars. Rosslyn didn’t stir even when he touched her shoulder to check her realness, when he gently carded the jet strands of her hair back from the wet patch of drool slowly seeping into his shirt. She had always slept heavily, like a true soldier, deep to dream and grumpy to rise, while he often started at phantom noises or spent hours trying to calm the whirl of his thoughts long enough to let him rest; more than once, he had used the slow, even rhythm of her breath to follow her into slumber.

He had so much to tell her. Without her to share it, his life had turned into one long road of nothing but duty stretching to the horizon, but now the details flooded back into his mind, full of colour. The two mares Fergus had given her as a wedding gift were stabled below as his own personal mounts, and Cuno waited back in Denerim, a pampered sire of many litters who would no doubt prove unbearably smug about being right that his mistress had survived.

The news could wait until they had more time, however, when they no longer had to hide her presence from Celene. For now, he had no wish to move her, but the angle of the chaise was beginning to hurt his back and they would both be in far more comfort on the bed.

“Rosslyn? Love, we need to get up, just for a bit.”

A wordless mumble was the only reply, tilting his mouth in a smile as he gave up and hooked one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back. Had she been awake, she would have complained about being carried when she had two perfectly good legs of her own, but as Alistair stood the movement only turned her further into his chest and her hands closed around the folds in his shirt. He tried not to think about how light she had become as he laid her down again a moment later, how much colder.

After pausing only long enough to retrieve Talon, he slipped under the covers beside her and pulled them up until she was tucked in snug up to her chin. Too much did her trusting, easy breathing remind him of their last night together before the battle at Ostagar, the morning when he had unwound his arms from her warm body and left without a word, hoping to keep her safe.

He would not suffer that again.

Careful and quiet, he tore his eyes away and rolled over, reaching for the top drawer of his nightstand where servants had stashed a set of reed pens, paper, and a writing pad. Both of them had duties, he his meetings and she the destruction of Morrigan’s mirror, but as he dipped the nib into the inkpot and sponged off the excess, he breathed deep through his nose, determined not to waste the gift Fate had chosen to grant him. After their trials were over, he would make sure they could both be together again. Forever, this time.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #da:o #alistair x warden #alistair x cousland #alistair theirin #king alistair #king alistair theirin #cousland #f!cousland #rosslyn cousland #the falcon and the rose

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lokislittlesigyn · 3 years

Text

OG616 : Thor: The Dark World - Pt.2 [Isolation]

[My masterlist, where all parts of this and my other fics can be found]

Pairing: Loki / Sigyn (basically an oc based off the marvel/myth namesake)

Warnings: None. again, unless you want a warning for sad sigyn and loki

Author’s Note: This one’s a bit longer. Apologies in advance for me being such a horse girl, I can’t help myself.

Taglist: @high-functioning-lokipath , @onaheroicmission

To be added to the taglist, just ask me here or send a message! <3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Frigga left, Sigyn looked around her room. With the exception of her dirty riding boots off in the corner and a few books and papers lying around, the room was practically untouched, as intended.

What would he want?

She paced a moment. Stopped. The bed… She smoothed her fingertips over the soft, velvety bedspread. Deep sapphire, with silvery accents. She smiled slowly, thinking of countless lazy mornings spent under it. He’ll like this.

She turned, surveying the room. Think. What will he be doing? Probably lots of reading… I should send him books. Where does he like to read...

She looked to their set of chairs and accompanying footstools, which were covered in a similar soft, deep blue fabric. Perfect.

Sigyn gathered a few more things: The book he’d been reading before his fall. A pitcher of water - and one of his favorite wines. A book of spells. Finally, she grabbed a sheet of paper and wrote a short note before folding the paper and tucking it into one of the books. Perhaps she’d do this again, in the future - send him books with letters, little love notes reminding him that someway, somehow, they’d see each other again. She clutched the book to her chest.

~~~~

Later, Sigyn went to Frigga, explaining what she wanted sent to Loki. The queen assured her the items would reach him, and explained she’d arranged for a few other pieces to be sent. Namely a bed, and a washing stand. But before Sigyn left, Frigga stopped her.

“Child,” Frigga said.

Sigyn turned, facing her. “Yes?”

“Please, do not seek Loki out. The Allfather has forbade you do so.”

Sigyn exhaled, nodding. She’d guessed Odin would forbid it - he’d be a fool not to. But then, perhaps he was a fool to think he could keep her away from him…

“I know.”

Frigga looked at her pointedly. “Promise me you won’t go to him yet. For now, these gifts will have to do.”

Silence hung between them.

“Promise me, Sigyn. Please. If you want any chance of seeing him, you must be patient.”

Sigyn’s shoulders sunk slightly. She nodded. “I.. I promise. I’ll wait. I trust you to tell me when it’s.. Suitable.. To speak to him.”

Frigga stood a moment, considering her words. “Good. Thank you.”

~~~~

Loki stood in the center of a crisp, white room. It felt sterile. Cold. Contrasting with what sat in the room - a bed, which he supposed Frigga must have had sent. It was plain, only having sheets and a set of plain pillows atop it. Perhaps Odin would only allow so much comfort. Besides that, and a washing stand with a bowl of clean water, the only other thing in the room was himself.

He turned to his right, faced the glowing orange barrier that separated him from the outside world.

Would death have been better than this? This life, separated from everyone and everything? Hatred was better than apathy, that much he knew. But isolation…

Could he find solace in it?

The dungeon doors opened. A troop of Einherjar, accompanied by a few women - thralls, by the looks of it - walked to Loki’s cell.

“Stand back.” Tyr, the Einherjar leader and seasoned old warrior, held his sword at the ready. The sorcerer at Tyr’s side cast a spell, and the barrier slowly receded, fading like an ebbing tide.

Loki smiled coyly and stepped back with his hands held aloft. “Why, I had no idea you’d bring me gifts..” He eyed the furniture they brought in, his brow furrowing slightly. That chair - one from his bedroom. His footstool. The women brought in water, wine, and fruit, all set on a table. Another woman placed a pile of blankets on his bed - no, not just any blankets. His blankets. Finally, another woman set two books in front of him and quickly backed away, behind the Einherjar whose spears were pointed at Loki’s throat.

“How very generous.” Loki sneered at the warriors.

“These are not ours,” Tyr said as the sorcerer re-cast his spell. The barrier flowed back in place, seeming to solidify. “They are from your wife.”

Loki merely watched him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he kept his jaw firm, his expression unwavering. “Send my regards.”

Tyr gave him a look. Without another word, the troop left, the heavy dungeon door shutting behind them with an echoing thunk.

Loki glanced at the food and water, only now realizing how hungry he was. Touched the back of the chair - still soft. Walked to the books, picking one up in each hand. The first, he recognized as one of his favorites - a book of spells he often reviewed. He sat it to the side. The second, he realized was a book he’d been reading through before, though had never finished…

He swallowed. Dragged his fingers along the old cover, then tugging the bookmark gently, he flipped it open to the page he’d left it at.

A piece of paper fell to the ground. He caught it just in time, standing back upright and setting the book aside to unfold the note. It was Sigyn’s handwriting.

My dear husband…

Words cannot express my love for you, nor the pain I have felt in your absence.

I cannot imagine the pain and anger you must feel. But believe me when I say, you are not alone. You are never alone. Mother and I are here for you.

We will find a way to help you. And in time, we will be together again.

I love you.

Yours always, Sigyn

Loki’s gaze drifted up from the note, to the barrier of his cell, then beyond it to the door.

Out and to the left. Up, until you reached the main level of the palace. Then up again, with a few turns, would lead you to their room - it was safe there. A place entirely their own, calm and quiet and familiar. She’d be waiting there - waiting for him.

She was probably waiting now, after Odin demanded she be kept there.

Both of us in isolation.

Loki folded the note, tucking it back into the book, which he left on the table. He walked to the bed. Grabbing the blanket, he brought it up to his face - his fingers twitching into a fist as he did. It smelled like her, sweet and warm. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent…

After a moment, he opened his eyes. Laid down on the bed, on his side, clutching the blanket in a tight embrace.

~~~~

Weeks passed. Sigyn kept her promise to Frigga, never once daring to venture too close to the dungeons. Eventually, she grew bored of staying in the palace, where her good behavior would be on display for all the Einherjar, who were no doubt reporting her actions to the king. It had been long enough, hadn’t it? She could stand to leave the safety of Valaskjalf and venture into the city...

So one morning Sigyn slipped on her boots and sleek riding outfit and went to the stables. She could feel the Einherjar’s gaze follow her as she walked, as though expecting her to make a beeline for the dungeons. And as much as she desperately wanted to run down there as fast as her legs could carry her, she still had a promise to keep. She had to wait.

She reached the stables just as the bleak morning gave way to golden sun. Breathed in the deep, calming scent of hay. She smiled.

“Princess,” A stablehand greeted her, walking one of the horses in from pasture. “Shall I saddle your horse?”

“I’ll saddle him, thank you.”

The boy nodded. “He’s out in the eastern paddock.”

Sigyn thanked him, making her way through the grand stable - a few friendly faces greeted her along the way, big brown and blue eyes turning her way, ears swiveling to catch her footsteps when she passed.

Out in the paddock stood her sturdy dapple grey horse, Villieldr. His name meant wildfire - a name which suited his free spirited nature. Next to him, a chestnut whose satiny coat shone the same color as rust: Sinir. Sinewy, his name meant, and his lean, muscular figure certainly reflected that. They were both geldings, and after so many rides together over the years, they’d become close stablemates.

“Sinir,” Sigyn cooed, and the chestnut turned her way, twitching his shoulder. Loki’s horse always had a soft spot for her. Villieldr walked out to meet Sigyn, his velvety muzzle blowing grass-scented air over her face. “Mm, I missed you too.” She giggled, gently pushing his nose away.

Sinir ambled over, and Villieldr tilted his ears back at the approach.

“Hush, you baby.” Sigyn scratched under his chin, then turned to the chestnut. “Hello, friend. I’m sorry Loki hasn’t been around to see you… You must be missing him, too.”

Sinir lowered his head as she stroked his neck.

“In fact… Forgive me, Vill, but I think Sinir needs some proper attention.”

After giving Sinir breakfast and a thorough brushing, then dressing him in the tack Loki had chosen for him, Sigyn eased into the saddle. She clicked her tongue, and he sprung forward, eager to finally be going somewhere. All the horses were allowed to roam the paddocks throughout the day on a regular rotation - and when necessary, stable hands would exercise them. But Sinir had, no doubt, been bored in his master’s absence. Loki was forever his favorite person.

Villieldr’s distraught whinnies carried over the wind. He was pacing at the portion of the paddock nearest to the entrance, snorting, with his ears pinned back.

“I’ll be back tomorrow!” Sigyn smiled despite herself when Villieldr whinnied again, and led Sinir down toward the city.

Through the streets they rode, past houses and merchants and taverns, down to the rainbow bridge.

Sinir tensed beneath her when they approached the Bifrost, his trot growing choppy.

“Want to run?” She stood in the saddle, squeezing his sides - he didn’t need any other signals. Sinir moved into a hurried canter, then soon into a gallop, bouncing Sigyn down the bridge until she found his stride.

By the time they made it to the observatory, Sinir’s coat shone with sweat.

“Ho,” Sigyn slowed him down, slipping out of the saddle once he was still. “What a brilliant boy you are,” Sigyn stroked his neck and he arched it, his head low. “Thank you for the ride.” She ground tied him, then walked into the Observatory.

“How fare the realms, Heimdall?”

The Gatekeeper stood with his back turned to her, staring out the grand window of the Observatory. Naturally, he wasn’t at all surprised by her approach.

“Full of unrest, my lady. Raiders continue to pillage and plunder, souls are left lost without homes.”

Sigyn stopped next to him, crossing her arms. “I suppose there’s no way to help from here...”

“Einherjar have been dispatched across the realms. Prince Thor, as well.”

“And the Warriors Three?”

“Mm.” Heimdall nodded. “They fight bravely.”

“Do you see Midgard, Heimdall?”

“Of course.”

“How do they fare?”

“After the battle?”

Sigyn nodded.

“Humans are surprisingly resilient creatures - they will rebuild. Even now, Thor’s new friend Stark rebuilds his tower.”

“How far can you see, Heimdall?” She inched closer to the window, watching the vastness of the sky. Even during the day, Asgard’s light only shone so far into the endlessness of Yggdrasil. There before her lay an endless ocean of space, full of planets, galaxies, and nebulae. It felt as though if she leaned too far, she’d fall into it.

She stepped back, looking at Heimdall, who was now watching her.

“What is it you seek?” He asked, seeing right through her question.

“After Loki fell, did you see him? Were you able to see him at all?”

“No.. If I had, I would have told you as soon as I found he was alive.”

Sigyn shifted her weight. Wherever Loki was, for whatever reason he was with those creatures in that mysterious abyss, none of it could be good. Something must have happened there, something that inspired him to attack Midgard…

“What about now?”

Heimdall smirked. Turned, his gaze settling on Asgard. “Reading in his bed. He seems content, all things considered.”

Sigyn exhaled a relieved breath. “Thank you.. I may return, ask you to check on him from time to time..”

“I’d be happy to, my lady.” He offered a small nod as she left.

~~~~

That night, Sigyn sat at the table in her chambers. One half of the chair set was gone, now - thought the thought of Loki using his half of it made its absence easier to bear.

She grabbed a fountain pen and a piece of parchment.

My love,

I took Sinir for a ride today. He misses you - as do I. Vill was less than enthusiastic about it, but he’ll come around. Perhaps you’re right about him being spoiled.

I hope you are enjoying the gifts, if you can call them that: they’re yours anyway, after all.

Someday we’ll go for a ride together again. I’m sure of it.

Yours, Sigyn

Sigyn folded the paper, slipping it into a book of poetry and setting it aside, to be given to Frigga in the morning. She glanced toward the bed.

Empty.

It shouldn’t be empty. Not now, not when Loki was so close…

“Promise me you won’t go to him yet.” Frigga’s words echoed in her head.

She had to be patient. But she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep that promise…

Sigyn grabbed a blanket and settled back into the chair, closing her eyes.

#loki x sigyn #loki fanfic #logyn #OG616 #thor: the dark world

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Calling to join them the wretched and joyful

Summary: An ancient game is played in the forest of Asgard by the noblemen. To the winners, go the spoils.

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, fucking), magick.

Note: A Loki one shot I’ve been meaning to write. It’s is vaguely inspired by Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game but obvi I gotta make it kinky. Lol. Thanks for reading <3

Hope y’all enjoy. Like and/or reblog!! <3 Reblogs really help.

It was one of those cool summer mornings that foretells of autumn. The sun was yet to rise but the sky was woven in a rich blue. The trees clung to the night and loomed over the line of shivering women, scared and shivering in thin shifts.

You were one of the eight. Confused and silent as guards in golden armor watched over you with spear and sword. You wondered how much of a threat you could be; unarmed and exhausted.

They came in the night. Your mother clung to you as the guards tore you from her. Your sister Bera hid in the closet. Your mother could not lose two daughters. You bid her a frantic goodbye as your father held her back.

Your family's name had been drawn for the leikr. Rumours were whispered but they were easy to doubt; easy to dismiss without a royal proclamation. The ancient rite was abolished years ago but the new king brought back many other archaic laws. It seemed this was just another dusty scroll put back on the table.

Many thought Thor was a beacon of light after Odin's death but he quickly crushed the hopes of the people. The poor paid more to the rich and the aristocracy thrived on corruption and greed. The leikr was another of their little games. Another pleasure carried on the backs of peasants.

You crossed your arms and peered down the line of woman. Tilly, the butcher's daughter was there, her golden hair loose down her back. Hildi, a girl you knew from the market, too. Her round green eyes shone with tears. Yrsa, the statuesque redhead, was an only daughter; her parents would be distraught. The other girls you didn't know but they were from the same neighbourhood; the same streets that turned bleak in the eclipse of kings.

Before they led you out before the brush, the riki forest shadowy and ominous behind you, they brought you to the palace. The lower floors where the servants slept and worked. You were stripped of your sandals, if you wore any, and all but your thin sleeping gowns.

None of the woman dared speak, not since you had. A single question, a reasonable "what are you doing?" earned you a gauntlet cross your cheek. You felt the dried blood around the small cut, the swelling of the bruised flesh. The others looked to you when they thought to speak up and quickly forgot their words.

Finally, the dirt stirred and the approach of horses sounded. The voices of men and snorts of horses broke the eerie still of the morning. You shivered in time with the other women. Tilly sniffed and Hildi covered her face.

"Enough," A guard approached Tilly. "The king doesn't want to see your tears." He moved along and ripped Hildi's hands from her face. "Stand straight. When your king arrives, you bow your head and keep quiet."

He shoved Hildi's arm down and stepped back. You watched as the nobles appeared along the wide path. The King's golden hair streamed over his shoulders, the waves soft and thick. His men Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun kept their horses just a foot behind his. They laughed as they led the others into the clearing before the Riki.

The guards stood at alert as Thor drew his horse up and the other men lined up beside him. Volstagg made lewd jokes to Hogun as his eyes devoured the women stood before the trees. Fandral shook his head with a smirk as he passed and brought his steed into order. The other nobles chattered here and there as they followed suit. Many stared overtly at the thinly clad peasants.

Tilly leaned on Yrsa and whispered that she would faint. The redhead nudged the blond onto her feet and warned her to keep in line. You snapped your head forward and lowered it as you recalled the guard’s orders.

You peeked up at the last of the nobles. Lords Broddi, Reinn, and Ornulf leered at the trembling women and Prince Loki brought up the rear with a lazy glance towards the forest. You lowered your eyes and braced yourself for what was to come.

"Ladies," Thor greeted above the din. The men laughed, amused at lowly women receiving such a title from the king. "Welcome to the leikr. Your families have been honoured, chosen by the gods, and yourselves are the anointed."

The words made your blood curdle and you clasped your hands together. You bit down and snarled at the malice hidden behind pretty words. The leikr had long been the terror of wives tales; an ancient barbarism meant for storybooks. Even Odin had decried it.

"Before the day is over, you will be blessed with glorious purpose. To serve your sacred king and his lords, each borne of gods' blood."

You looked up again as the fury seared your veins. You glared at the king and your gaze drifted down the line of smug nobles. Some whispered and pointed to the woman they preferred. At the end of the line, your eyes met with another's.

Loki, to that point disinterested, noticed your silent loathing. His brow arched as he tilted his head and you quickly bowed your chin once more. You peeked over at the other women, cowering on bare feet and prone in barely there linen.

"But first there is the fun part. The selection, the game." Thor carried on. "You will have an hour to yourselves. To run, to hide. Should any remain undiscovered till the next dawn, they shall be allowed back to their former lot. Unchosen and unclaimed, you will not be bound by the law of the leikr."

The men chuckled again. That had never happened. None had yet evaded the leikr.

"Thus, without further ado, I shall appease my men's impatience, and declare the leikr begun." Thor announced. "Your hour commences now."

Silence rose around you. You looked to the other girls as they turned to each other in confusion. You turned back to the men, entertained by the clueless women, and your heart seized. You spun around and raced towards the trees. In a moment, several others followed as you plunged into the depths of the forest. The guffaws and shouts of the men rose and faded behind you.

You were lost. Not that it mattered. Perhaps the best thing that could happen was to lose yourself so entirely that none could find you. To perish out here, perhaps was a better fate than to be found.

You heard horses before and quickly charged in the opposite direction. Your stomach plummeted as you ignored the calls of other women when they found themselves sighted. You felt grimy beyond the mud on your feet. This was a self-serving game all around.

Out of breath, you came upon an arm of the river that pooled beneath a great oak. You were thirsty and unconcerned by the water's quality. It looked clear enough. You neared edge and cupped a hand to dip into the depths.

As you sipped from your palm, you heard it. The snap of a twig. Distant but close enough. You blinked and peered around at the wraith-like trees. You heard a hoof and then another. You held in the gasp as you tried to measure the direction of the approach.

You couldn't tell as all noise seemed to surround you. You lowered yourself onto your bottom and eased into the water, careful not to make too much commotion. It was cold against your hot skin and your feet met the silty bottom.

You moved carefully towards the base of the tree, beneath a hole that housed the wild. A bear could sleep there but worse predators chased you. You reached the twisted roots curled beneath the lip of the cave and stepped into the darkness.

You turned and covered your chattering teeth. The hooves grew closer, the twigs snapped, the dirty crunched, the clink of metal sharpened. You waited as you listened to their approach. The sound of boots on the ground as they dismounted.

Whoever it was made careful inspection of the river's edge. The water swirled softly around you and you clung to a gnarled root to keep yourself still. A subtle splash of water as they stooped to drink as you had.

Then, another set of hooves sounded. The panting of a horse as it came upon the shore. "Brother," It must have been Loki as you knew Thor's voice but not his. "Tired already?"

"This is a hunt, you know it is more than just riding around. We must track our game." Thor replied. "Thought I heard something but it must've been a critter."

"Mmm," The second-born hummed.

"I wanted the blond. The one with the teary eyes but Volstagg claimed her before I could."

"Pathetic thing. Not worthy of a king." Loki remarked. "Who do you seek now?"

"The redhead perhaps." Thor answered. "Nice hips. I wouldn't mind a bastard. And you? Have you a fancy for any or do you only come to humour me?"

"This is not my type of game," Loki said. "By rite, I have come along but my preference remains uninspired."

"Oh brother, I know you." Thor returned. "Unlike the others, I saw your pique." Thor grunted as he climbed back on his horse. "That plain one. The angry one. You might just have her because the other men barely noticed the creature."

"They are all the same to me," Loki chuckled. "I think I shall enjoy this little ride through the forest and see if perhaps this year the leikr will see a woman free."

"Mischievous as you are, you cannot lie to me, brother." You listened as the hooves moved slowly through the dirt. "Come on. Follow the river and we will surely stumble upon one soon. The sun grows hot and the air stolid. They will thirst."

“After you,” Loki intoned and you waited for their horses to trot away. The brothers called after each other and you stayed a little longer in the water. Making sure they were truly gone.

When you climbed out, your shift was soaked to your chest and you shivered as you dragged yourself up onto the dirty shore. Streaks of mud lined your nightgown and you crossed your arms as the late afternoon sun slipped through the leaves above and warmed your damp skin.

You began in the direction opposite to where the royal brothers had departed. You climbed up around the great oak and looked off into the untrodden brush behind. Your feet were sore already, scratched and raw from the forest floor. The branches above were thicker and closer together, slowly blotting out the sun the deeper your went.

Ten, maybe twelve feet into the woody umbrage, you heard it. Like a whisper. The subtle whish of fabric around the lithe figure. You turned slowly to face the green eyes as they shone in the dim. You sighed and took a step back as Loki grinned at you.

“My illusions tend to work on the untrained eye, though my brother is just as gullible,” He began. “You couldn’t see me though so how were you to know?”

You continued backward, feeling out each step with your feet. He followed at a similar pace.

“You said you did not like this game,” You said. “So why seek me out?”

“What I say is not always as I feel,” He reached up an unclasped his rich green cloak. “You’re cold. If you come with me, you will be warm. For so long as you wish.”

“I don’t wish it,” You insisted as you continued to walk back into the thickening brush. “I’d rather freeze.”

“Those other men are just lords. I am a prince,” He declared. “Would you rather be used for the night and discarded in the morning. What is left to the leikr woman but a life of whoredom?”

“There are seven other girls.”

“Two. The others were not so clever.” He corrected. “My brother will catch the red head soon enough and the black-haired baker’s daughter isn’t very quick.”

“You could go and let me disappear here. Walk away from the leikr for your boredom---”

“No, I cannot. To be the first to walk away without a prize would be worse than any shame thrust upon me by my brother.” He took a big step and you did too. “Come on, pet,” He held out his cloak. “This needn’t be tedious.”

You stared at him, searching for an ounce of empathy. There was none to be had in his gemlike eyes. You turned and dove into the trees only to be stopped by something quite solid. You looked up as the hands closed around your upper arms and held you in place.

Loki smirked as you glanced over your shoulder at the emptiness behind you. He had his cloak on his shoulders again but his eyes were no longer so hollow. You cringed as you realized his deception. The trickery he was known for. How easy you’d fallen for it.

“I am not of the mood to run after you any longer,” He said. “So come with me timidly or I shall drag you from here kicking and screaming. Your choice will be met with appropriate consequences.”

“Let me go!” You pushed against him. “You monster. You pretend not to be but you are as vile as the rest of them.”

He laughed as you struggled against his unyielding grip. He bent as he slid his hands down your arms and scooped you up over his shoulder in a single motion. You cried out and beat on his back as he carried you back towards the great oak. He was cautious on the decline that led around to the tree and when he came onto even ground, his steps were more swift.

He whistled and the black stallion he rode emerged from the trees, a blade of grass stuck to its lip. He neared the beast and as he rounded it, the beast sniffed your hair and huffed its hot breath down your neck. He chuckled and flipped you up onto your feet. He held your wrist as he stirred with his other hand in his saddlebag. You tried to wrench away from him but only twisted your own arm painfully.

He pulled out a rope and turned you easily and pressed you against the side of the horse. You could smell the stable, the leaves, and sweat of the stallion. He wound the length around your wrists so tightly you were certain your fingers would balloon. He took another and wrapped it around your ankles until you were bound up firmly.

He spun you back to face him and you threatened to topple over. He caught your shoulder and you leaned against the horse. He reached into his bag again as the steed dipped his head to chew on the thin grass.

“Myrkr doesn’t usually like strangers,” He mused as he pulled out a bundle. “Are you hungry?”

You sneered at him and said nothing.

“Well, if you don’t eat now, you’ll not eat for hours to come.” He warned. “So you can sit and let me feed you. A small respite before your duty begins or you can starve and wallow in misery.”

You shrugged and lowered your head. You didn’t care either way. Your appetite wasn’t especially ravenous despite your hours of running. He tucked the bundle under his arm and grabbed your elbow. He led you around the horse as you hopped clumsily. He sat you down in the dirt and unwrapped his fare.

He knelt and watched you, his face foretold of unspoken remarks. He offered you a heel of bread, holding it as you took a bite. Inner musings that irked you more and more. You watched the river just feet away and imagined yourself washing away with the stream. You chewed but didn’t taste the grainy loaf.

“I am most pleased I didn’t pursue that moping mess of a mouse,” He said as he cut a small piece of cheese from the aged chunk. “How interesting you are, pet. Even as you look away, I can feel the loathing.” Your eyes flicked to him as he offered you the cheese. “That won’t last long, I promise.”

The other girls were filthier. Evening set as you came upon the clearing. Loki had you across the saddle as he led his stallion from the path. Tilly wept as she sat on the ground. Her face was red with tears and the bright hand mark across her cheek. Each woman was separated from the others, waiting beside the horse of their respective captor.

Yrsa’s dress was torn and exposed her milky breasts. She stood with her eyes to the ground, her wrists in golden cuffs. The king sent lurid glances her way as he japed with his men. They turned as Loki appeared from the trees, his expression blank, his steps even and unhurried. Thor laughed and boomed as his brother approached.

“I knew you would catch her, brother,” He hollered. “Late but not lost.”

“Do not fret for me. We both know you’d not have caught the scarlet haired wench were it not for my sharp eye.” Loki returned.

Thor sighed and turned back to his men. “Well, I declare this leikr foremost a success and secondly, at an end. At least, the game itself. We have some fun ahead of us, don’t we men.”

The lords laughed and you winced. You looked around as best you could at the other woman. They were pulled from their silent surrender back to reality. Some were tied like you, others were too weak to resist, too scared. They were lifted and slung over saddles like you as the men mounted and settled in.

Loki climbed up behind you in kind, shifting you closer to the horse’s shoulders. He waited as the others kicked their steeds into step before he did the same. He kept to the rear, you felt a tickle along your arm. He held the reins with one hand as his other traced between your shoulders and down your spine.

“You see,” He kept his voice low, “It could be worse. The blonde won’t be able to walk tomorrow and when she does, she’ll work the streets where she was raised. The red-haired beauty might warm my brother’s bed for more than a night but only until he finds his next delight.”

You didn’t say a word. Your stomach hurt as you bounced with the movement of the horse. Loki’s fingers played with the dirty fabric along your hip.

“Be good and I’ll not send you to the gutter.” He continued. “You could be a maid, or a cook. If I like you enough...well, we will wait for promises.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Painful because of your position, more so due to your predicament. When at last the palace came into sight and the horses followed the road to the rear gate, the night bloomed completely. The moon shone in a half crescent and winked above you as the horse continued to jostle your body.

There was a flurry as the men entered the courtyard and attendants rushed to aid their returning masters. Loki dropped down with a lingering touch along your side. He handed the reins to a small boy with straw like hair and patted his shoulder. Servants emerged and offered refreshments to the nobles who left their prizes with their steeds.

Each woman was pulled down without grace and rushed in away from the lords. Your binds were left as they were and you hopped behind the rest of them. Inside the palace, it was dark and a scurry of skirts and aprons surrounded you. Your feet were cut loose but your hands left tied.

The parade of dirtied women was led down a flight of stairs and along a lower corridor. At each, a woman was left with a couple servants and closed up behind the dungeon like doors. You were the last, filled with the same panic more overtly displayed by the others. You were herded inside and two servants remained within as the lock was bolted into place.

“Get her in the tub,” The elder of the two commanded the other. “She’s filthy.”

Neither would look at you as they went about their work. The younger loosed your hands and you stood numb. The shock set in, the grim acceptance crawled down your spine. You were undressed roughly as the room blurred and made your head spin.

“The prince has arranged everything. Make her as presentable as you can.” The older servant explained.

“The prince seeks a lover at last and he chooses her?” The other bemoaned.

“Quiet, girl,” The other retorted. “You think he would want for you? Be her a commoner herself, do not envy her lot.”

The other pursed her lips and stayed silent as she shook her head at her companion. You let them lead you to the large metal tub and you stepped into the steamy water. As you lowered yourself, the fog filled your mind and added to the sudden haze. This could not be.

When the women finished washing you, they dressed you in a sheer green gown and gold sandals. They styled your hair and powdered your bruised face. Dark liner around your eyes and the rosy lip stain made you feel inhuman.

You weren't you anymore, you thought, you were his.

They placed a black rope over the sultry green attire and the door was unlocked at their tapping. You'd heard other doors before, small voices, frightened and pleading. You gulped down your fear and tried not to shake. You wouldn't go with cowardice but with stubborn defiance. Defy the fates and their efforts to crush you.

A twisted stairwell, hidden behind a small door, wound up and up and up. The higher corridors were brighter, lit by golden lamps, lined in red carpet and intricate tapestry. Empty given the hour but you imagined it bustled with gossip and pretension in daylight's grace.

You were stopped at another door. The older servant knocked and the handle clicked. No answer came and you felt a gentle nudge.

"Go on. He will not wait long." The old maid said. "Best not to test his patience."

You took a breath and reached for the handle. She waited for you to open the door and as you stepped inside she reached to grab the golden handle after you. She waited until you were past the threshold and pulled it shut.

You turned and looked around. Your ears rang in the silence, the closing of the door echoed in your head. It was a receiving chamber, a large desk faced you, a grand chair behind it. Green velvet covered chair and sofa, tables of ebony complimented the rich decorations.

"This way, pet," You looked to Loki as he leaned on the door frame to your left. He wore a pair of black silk pants and nothing more. "Unless you prefer the desk to a bed."

You frowned and hesitated before your body responded. Don't let him see you quake. You neared him and he offered his hand to you. You stared at his palm, his slender fingers, his snare-like hand. You took it without a word.

"You look better," He said. "Not so plain now."

You kept your eyes averted as he led you through the door. You looked at carpet, canopy, and curtain before you dared turn to him. As immaculate as the first room. He released you as he let you precede him. He pulled the door closed after him.

"A drink? Wine?" He ventured. "I could send for ale."

You shook your head and he tutted. He caught your wrist before you could move further from him. He turned you to face him.

"You'll have to use your words. I am still a prince and you are still a peasant. ‘Your grace’ or ‘my prince should do’." He smirked. "I prefer the latter."

"I am not thirsty, my grace," You said.

"Eager?" He teased.

You tried to pull away but he was stronger than he looked. He might be slimmer than his brother but certainly not weaker. He unballed your fist with his other hand and placed it flat against his chest. You felt the muscle and at last let yourself look.

"Remove your robe," He released you and stepped away.

You noticed the way the silk twitched along his crotch. He backed away and sat in a chair by the small round table. He reached for his crystal goblet and drank.

"Your grace."

You pulled loose the belt and the robe fell open. You let it slip down from your shoulders and folded it over your arm.

"On the chair," He arched a brow as he set aside his cup. "I'd like a good look at you."

You draped the robe over the back of the other chair and stepped back. You knew the light from the sconces thinned the material and bared all. You stood before him, stiff as you fought not to quiver.

"Well," He leaned on his elbow. "You look ravishing in green, pet."

Your lips were straight but you forced them apart. "Thank you, your grace."

"Let's work on your obedience." He said. "You can try to hide it but I see that little spark. So let's see how good a pet you can be."

"Your grace."

"I hear it too," He chimed. "Sounds a lot like a curse when you say it."

You cleared your throat and repeated yourself. He chuckled.

"Take the dress off." He ordered. "I want to see all of you."

You gave him his title again and inhaled. You reached to slip the straps from your shoulders. You didn't look at Loki, rather past him. Every inch of flesh bared made it harder not to shudder.

You paused before you let the fabric below your chest and over your stomach. You bent to step out of the skirts and stood with the dress in hand. You relinquished the gown to the chair with the robe and kicked the sandals from your feet.

Your turned again to Loki and waited. He didn't move but you felt his gaze. Heard his breath as it wisped between his lips.

"Get down. On your knees." You swallowed and obeyed. "Now…" He pushed his legs apart and his hand rubbed along his thigh, just around his arousal. "Crawl to me, pet."

You blanched and met his eyes. He grinned and pushed his shoulders back. Your jaw tensed as you bit down. Your anger burned through your humiliation and fear. You hated this. You hated him.

"Let me warn you, I do not like to repeat myself so if you insist on disobedience, I will bend you to my will with more than words."

You slowly let yourself down onto your hands. You didn't look away as you began to crawl across the carpet. You stopped before him and waited. You peered up at him and felt another surge within.

"Good pet," He purred and lifted himself slightly from the chair. He lifted the silk over his lap and past his arousal. He sat back as his cock stood against his stomach, just above the top of the black pants. "Now, I want you to put that scowling little mouth of yours to use."

You sat back on your heels and finally you had to look away. You knew what he was asking. You'd done it once with Brenn, the smith just down the road from your father. It hadn't gone much further once you met his wife. The introduction being his first allusion to his marriage.

You grabbed Loki's thighs and drew yourself close. Your fingers stretched over the silk. You wanted it done with. He said if you were good, you could live as a servant. You might not be left to the streets; discarded and disgraced.

You slid your hand over and gripped the base of his cock. He was thicker than you expected. Long, too. The veins stood out against your palm and he groaned as you bent your head over his lap.

You hovered your lips over his tip and when you touched his cock, you slowly parted them. Just the tip at first, you swirled your tongue and pulled back, easing him in and out. You teased the most sensitive part of him and he gripped the arms of the chair.

"Oho, you've...done this before." He breathed.

You didn't stop. You had to keep going because once you stopped, you wouldn't be able to go on. You took a little more of him and his hum rose with delight. You pressed tongue to his shaft and moved up and down his length until your mouth met your hand. Then you worked them in tandem.

He squirmed and his hand went to the back of your head. "Oh, pet, you are surpri--sing.” He gasped. "More. More. Take all of me."

He reached down and pulled on your arm until your hand slipped away. He pushed your head down until you choked and held you at your limit. Your nails dug into his thigh but he only seemed to enjoy the pain.

When he relented you pulled back but not entirely. You kept your lips around him and carried on. You let his hand guide your head and bobbed up and down his length. Your jaw ached as the saliva gathered and dripped down his cock.

"Gods," He swore and fisted your hair.

He pulled you off him and grabbed his cock. He stroked himself as he slid forward on the chair and held your head back. You closed your eyes as he grunted and his cum spurted across your face, along your nose and lips and across your cheek.

He let go as he finished and fell back in his chair. He panted and you opened your eyes. There was cum on his pants too and you reached to wipe away that on your face.

"Don't," He warned. "Leave it. A prince's seed is gift. You should wear it with pride."

He grabbed the arms of the chair and pushed himself to his feet. You fell back onto your ass as he stood, he hadn't softened at all. He pushed his pants down until they fell to his ankles and stepped out of them and strode past you. He looked around the room as he rubbed his chin.

"My pet, I can't decide where to fuck you," He taunted. "Shall I bend you over the bed? Maybe take you on your back? Perhaps against the wall?" He put his hands on his hips and turned to once more present his erection to you. "Tell me, are you wet?"

You shook your head. A lie. He laughed and dropped his hands.

"No?" He neared. "Show me then. Touch yourself and show me how dry you are."

"Your grace," You croaked and your hand felt heavy as pushed it between your legs. You were sopping and when you pulled away, your fingers glistened in the glow of the chamber.

"Do not lie to me, pet," He grabbed your wrist and yanked you up to your feet. He forced your hand up and shoved your fingers into his mouth as he sucked your juices off them. "Delicious."

He released you and played with himself as he once more considered the room and walked to the side of the bed.

"Get on the bed. On your knees." He pointed to the wide mattress. "Back to me."

You walked towards him and stood between him and the bed. You climbed up before him and walked forward on your knees until you were just past the edge. You stopped and waited.

The mattress dipped behind you as he got up too. He pressed himself to your back, his cock bobbed against your ass. He snaked his arm around you and slowly inched down your stomach and along your vee. He forced his hand between your legs and rubbed you with two fingers.

His other hand came around and grasped your chest. He held you against him and toyed with your nipple and clit at the same time. Your breath picked up, a tell, and he bent to nuzzle your head.

"Oh, pet, I told you it wouldn't last," He twirled his fingers. "You want me. You can hate me but you want me too."

You gritted your teeth as he plucked at your nerves. As your shallow breaths turned to barely muffled moans and your body buzzed against his. You twitched and your hand pressed against his as he stirred your body to a boil. You came with a spasm and a squeak and he purred into your hair.

"I want it too. I didn't. I thought this game was a joke but I want you, pet." He reached between you and gripped his cock. He led it along your ass and leaned into you. "I want to feel you around me."

He slipped down along your entrance as his other hand fell to your pelvis. He pushed until you were forced to arch your back. His tip tickled your folds and he guided it with his fingers.

He rested the head of his cock there and pressed until you stretched around his tip. He gasped and you did too. You couldn't resist the ache in your walls that called for any relief. Even him. You pushed back onto him and took more.

He once more began to play with your clit as he eased himself into you. Little by little until he filled you entirely. His other hand trailed up your stomach and his fingers hooked over your shoulder as your spine curved to accommodate him.

"I want more than you, my pet. I want all of me in you." He pushed again and you moaned. You might've been at your limit but he wasn't. "I want to put my seed in you."

He thrust and groaned. He buried himself as deep as he could go and held himself there as you squirmed. He did it again and again and again until your body longed for the pain of it.

"I want to watch you grow, my pet. To see the life blossom inside of you," He rocked steadily into you. "Because of me. Because I willed it."

You reached back to touch his thighs. Wanting him to keep going and stop all at once. Your body was in turmoil. The battle within threatened to tear you in half.

"Tell me you want my seed," He sped up and the sound of his flesh and yours filled the room. "Tell me you want me."

"I…" You breathed between thrusts. "I...want...you."

The lie was easy if it meant you were closer. Closer to the end. Closer to release. You moaned as your walls clung to him.

He impaled you entirely, again he lingered in your warmth before starting again. This time harder and faster. He contorted your body to fit his and his hand wrapped around your throat.

"'I want you, my prince.'" He corrected, each word followed by a sharp thrust.

"I. Want. You. My. P-p-prince." You latched onto his wrist as you struggled to breathe.

He pounded into you, nearly taking you off the bed with each plunge. Your moans mingled with the slap of flesh on flesh and his groans were hot against your ear.

You came, a cry betrayed you, and he nipped at your ear. He relished your orgasm, an unwilling white flag as he chased another. You shook again in another flash of ecstasy and his grip tightened on your neck.

"Gods, oh my pet, I'm….oh."

You felt him cum. He filled you as he shuddered. He fucked his seed deep inside of you and didn't slow until he was out of breath. He let go of your throat and leaned on you until you were forced onto your stomach. He fell atop you, still inside of you.

"Oh, my pet," He wiggled his hips. "I think I might just keep you."

#loki #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #dark loki #dark loki x reader #loki x reader #fic #thor #one shot #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #dark fic

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whumpeeblog · 3 years

Text

TW CHILD SLAVERY MENTION OF TORTURE MENTION OF DEATH PAIN WHUMP

“Don’t you touch her.”

S scrambled through the castle halls, K sprinting behind her.

“Come here you little wretch!” He grumbled as he gained on her. Nearly tripping, S rounded the corner into the throne room, where D stood, talking to a neighboring ambassador. In frantic panic, the girl ran to her master.

D’s blue eyes widened as he watched his prisoner throwing herself towards him. Shock struck him when K came trailing behind her.

S ducked behind D, squatting in a fetal position behind his tall legs, afraid to look towards the disaster she knew was on its way.

K slowed to a walk, his sword drawn.

“Come here, girl. I swear when I get my hands on you, your little body will burn with pain.”

D spoke up in order to protect his captive.

“Don’t you touch her.”

D’s deep command stopped K. However, hatred darkened in his eyes as he glared at the figure hiding behind his cousin and friend. He took a step closer, the thump of his boot causing the marred child to flinch in fear.

“K. Don’t. You. Dare. Touch. Her.” D repeated. “Now tell me what’s going on and maybe we can sort this out.” The ambassador beside him watched the scene unfold, the amusement on his face revealing his attempt not to laugh.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and D was accustomed to bringing K’s temper down while protecting S.

“She stole several items from me and it’s time the little thief learn to pay. In Galway, thieves lose their hands at best and their lives at worst,” K snarled.

“Put the sword away and I’ll deal with this.”

K placed the blade back in its sheath, yet the child still cowered in fear. She may have escaped K’s wrath, but now she needed to face the decision of her master.

“S,” Damian stated confidently. S scurried around to face Master D, as she called him, dropping to her knees and lowering her head. She knew she would be punished, but a small bit of relief crashed through her, acknowledging that D was usually much more merciful than K and wouldn’t torture her like K would. If K had caught her, he would have skinned her alive, literally. He’d done it to many others, and knew how to keep them alive as long as possible. He was the executioner, after all. He, as well as D, N, and almost every other prominent being in the small kingdom, knew how to push a victim to the brink of death, putting them in the most agonizing pain possible, yet keeping their heart beating.

“Look at me,” D commanded. S’s gaze reluctantly met his eyes, and she trembled. She searched his face for mercy; for any chance that he might not let K torture her.

She knew the rules. If a slave, prisoner, or other commoner was caught stealing from a lord, prince, or other high placed official, the king had the right to do whatever he pleased. This usually included severe torture and beheading. If a commoner was stolen from, they could take that person prisoner or slave, and do what they wished. If they were feeling generous, they could send the criminal to a local sheriff, and they would be given a “kind” death: hanging.

A chilly waterfall of horror flushed through S’s body as she searched her master’s eyes.

“Are these accusations true?” D asked sternly, concern and dominance hinted in his eyes. The girl’s face lowered as she nodded softly. She lifted her gaze, but was unable to read Damian’s face. “And may I ask as to what you stole and why you did?”

“I- it was just some food and a few weathered blankets, Master.”

“And why did you take these things when I provide you with what you need? Are you planning an escape attempt perhaps?” D interrogated the girl. Just as it wasn’t the first time she had stolen, he wouldn’t be surprised if she were plotting to run... again. She had been tormented mercilessly for many of her attempts, although there were several times he had allowed her to get away with it. S trembled and her eyes pleaded desperately for Damian to believe her.

“No, Master! I swear it wasn’t an escape attempt, Sir! Please! I was just hungry and cold...”

D questioned the child further, but he was already aware exactly why she had done it.

“If you were hungry or cold, you could have come to me or N and we would have provided you with warmth and a meal. You know this, so why didn’t you ask?” D raised an eyebrow and lifted his hand to his chin, almost as if he were deeply pondering the situation.

“I- I was afraid to ask, Master. I feared that if I became too much of a burden to you, you would take my head.” Her eyes lowered to stare at the cold, golden floor she kneeled upon. She trembled even more, one of the first signs of the panic attack she could feel rising into her heart. A tear slipped, and landed on the ground like the first raindrop of a terrifying storm.

“So you thought that by stealing from my executioner, you could get away with it. You didn’t think he would notice. After all, the less you eat, the smaller of a burden you are to me, correct?” D questioned. S nodded, still afraid to meet his eyes. “And even if you were caught, you hoped I would put you out of your misery quickly, rather than make you suffer as K here would.” D pitied the slave. She was just a teenager, and a traumatized one at that. He recognized the need to correct her habit, however.

“Let me have her, D,” K cut in. S glared at him, a cocktail of hatred and horror drowning her tears. D put up a hand to stop K as he lunged forward, fangs bared.

“Now,” D shifted his eyes to the girl between him and K, “It seems we have a problem, don’t we?”

“Yes, Master D.”

“Leave us,” D glanced at K and his ambassador. K growled resentfully, but walked toward the door. The ambassador followed, understanding that the meeting would be over for the next few hours.

It was now between the prisoner and her captor. She knew what she deserved, and she grimaced as visions of her possible punishments overcame her.

“Please have mercy, Master,” she pleaded tearfully, whimpering with tiny gasps. Thirty seconds of silence went by as D stared at S, deep in thought.

“Why were you so afraid to ask?”

S spoke up nasally, still trying to hide her sobs.

“If- if I eat too much you’ll kill me.”

D knew better. She was the spitting image of his deceased sister, and his last plan was to execute the child. Of course, if it came to the point where his only option were the sword, he’d do it, but not for a little nourishment. He still tortured her as needed. She wasn’t his sister after all. He often needed to be reminded that she was a slave, a prisoner of war and ally of the enemy.

D didn’t respond to S’s statement, proving in her mind that her fears would soon come to life. He decided that instead of severely punishing her as he had done many times before, he’d use a harmless fear tactic.

“On your feet.” His sunken tone struck fear and earned a flinch from S. She did as was told, and rose, staring up into his icy glare. “Against the wall.” Once again, S responded submissively, walking to face the wall. D sauntered to his throne, prolonging the process in order to teach a lesson of obedience. He reached for a strand of rope which hung on the wall behind the throne, part of a daunting collection of restraints and weapons.

S’s body jolted as she was forcefully shoved into the gold plated wall. Her arms were yanked behind her back. Her wrists over crossed each other, palms out. The rope brushed against soft skin, leaving a burning trail of red rash as it slithered its way around her wrists.

Fingers sliding over S’s shoulder, D turned her body and guided her forward.

Oh God he’s gonna kill me... no. worse. He’s gonna torture me.

Hyperventilation shook S’s frail body, but instead dragging her to one of the torture chambers, D pushed her towards the opposite side of the throne room. The door on that side led to a stone spiral staircase. These stairs went up to a winding maze of hallways with different suites belonging to each individual royal in the small kingdom. Each suite was like an apartment, and contained its own prison cells for the men’s prisoners. Few ever left the private dungeons. To the surprise of the child, however, D didn’t chain her to a wall in his dungeon. He didn’t beat her to a pulp with the agonizing cracks of a nine stranded whip. A harsh necklace of rope wasn't strung around her neck, nor her tendons cut to allow her to choke to death.

Instead he led her in the opposite direction and down the stairs to the section of the castle that was used as a public hangout. The lower floor was set up with a kitchen, living space, dining hall, music and entertainment room, and had a porch leading outside.

D unsheathed a knife. S only knew this thanks to the familiar metallic scrape of the object leaving its home. A shudder wracked through her, and she expected the worst. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she braced herself, but the pain never came. Instead, D’s knife sliced its way through the rope, and the broken bonds fluttered to the floor.

D walked towards the couch, and picked up a heavy wool blanket. He draped it around his terrified slave. Her body shuddered when the scratchy warm fabric danced on her skin, the only touch she was used to being some form of excruciating torture.

“Sit,” D pointed towards the couch. S timidly waddled over. She was still skeptical that he would hurt her, but D was often merciful to her too. There was no real way of knowing whether he would hurt her or not. When he did, she knew he tried to be lenient, and he only punished her when he felt he had to. Now was one of the times that he may have to, she thought.

Frightened eyes examined every detail of her master making his way about the kitchen at the other side of the room. D heated something in a pot on the stove, occasionally glancing over to assure that his prisoner hadn’t made another escape attempt. The figure huddled in the corner of the couch, afraid to move or make a sound. Even under the shadows of the blanket wrapped over her head and body, dark circles of sleep deprivation made themselves visible.

D walked over to the girl, carrying with him a tray of soup, bread, and water. He set it on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Eat,” he instructed. S didn’t budge. D stared with concern. He cared about her, even if she was his slave. He genuinely didn’t want to hurt her, but she had been his enemy, and a prisoner. Either she was afraid that he poisoned the food, or she was trying to kill herself with starvation.

S cowered away when a steamy spoon of tomato broth met her lips.

“Open.” She did as told, but tears began to fall as she took the liquid in. Whimpers and shivering came with each spoonful.

After several spoonfuls, D seemed to have convinced the child that he hadn’t poisoned her meal. He slowly slid his way up the couch to sit behind her. Drowsiness conquered S’s frail body and she began sleep softly, laying her head across her master’s lap. D combed her brown hair with his fingers, not daring to move. The sedative had finally set in, and he didn’t need to change that.

#whump prompts #emotional whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump trope #whumper #slave #prisoner

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uwua3 · 4 years

Note

Hello! Can you write something for Muku helping Juza impress his crush? Thank you!

thank you so much for requesting, anon !! i hope to make you proud with this piece ٩( >w< )و suddenly today, i was overcome with a charming concept for this prompt and i am so happy! please enjoy, and if you’d like a continuation, let me know!

summary: the crown prince ascending to the throne would be nothing without his number one advisor

warnings: arranged marriage, classism, disease, dueling, fear of touching, fighting, military, monarchy, parental deaths/issues, swords

author’s note: you know, no one said to do a royal au but here i am! this will be an enemies to lovers prompt, so please enjoy :D have fun, juza loves you !! ♡

word count: 6,220

music: eyes blue like the atlantic, pt. 2 – sista prod, powfu, alec benjamin, & rxseboy

the crown prince and his advisor.

🌻👑🍁🍰 sakisaka muku + hyodo juza

“absolutely not.”

it doesn’t take much for first in line, prince feared across many nations, and legend in the making, hyodo juza, to not cooperate with his royal court

an arranged marriage, was expectedly one of the things that made him incompetent

“ju–chan,” first advisor muku started, ignoring the snickers of the much older men around him at the childhood nickname and juza’s sudden flustered expression, “you would be a fool to not agree to this arrangement.”

“me? the fool?!” juza huffed, his voice on the verge of raising as he narrowed his eyes at his cousin with the sharp threat of a death sentence. muku sighed, knitting his eyebrows together as he patiently tapped his fingers upon the round table

(leave it to his older, much more influential, and wealthier cousin to be incredibly difficult to work with)

“yes, you know akizakura is the rising power this century. they’re challenging societal norms and making every other monarchy uneasy with their progressiveness. you and them together would have a shocking power play over every single nation on this map.”

muku used his feather quill to refer to the aged map laid out, gesturing as if to say “this could all be yours if you played your cards right”. juza was about to fight back, but bit his tongue, nearly slouching in his seat to contemplate before straightening with muku’s pointed glare

(seriously... juza was the older one?)

“i have no desire to be a dictator.” juza finally spat, turning his head away towards the window and closed his eyes. the rest of the court bristled at this bold, unambitious statement but muku solemnly nodded

after all, it was the dying king’s one true goal to conquer all, not juza’s

“if i may say, prince juza, the heir to the throne—”

“i wish to hear nothing about this so called heir. they mean nothing to me.”

silence plagued the court, the somewhat out of touch yet logical advisors sharing disapproving looks of juza’s childish behavior. muku did his best not to roll his eyes at the crowd, instead plastering a neutral expression

it seemed like most of the times, the whole kingdom forgot juza was a child. just a boy suddenly forced to uphold his responsibilities with his father’s slow demise

“shall we reconvene tomorrow?” muku suggested, to which juza nodded. the court quickly went up and left, shooting curious and nosy glances at muku who remained in his seat. when everyone parted ways and the guard by the door confirmed there were no eavesdroppers, muku quietly pushed out his chair and moved to stand by his cousin’s side

for a while, no one said anything. until, juza’s tense posture slumped and he buried his face into his hands, trying his best to keep it all together even with no one to witness his defenses down

“i wish... father wasn’t so ill. i shouldn’t be here, i don’t want to be here.” juza declared, the words muffled by his palms. advisor muku gently placed a hand upon the crown prince’s shoulder, patting it slightly with a sympathetic tone to his words

“i know, i’m sorry. but, you will be a great king for the people of higanbana.”

before juza could ask how he knew for sure, muku just fixed the kingdom’s red spider lily pendant to make sure it was straight. it was the royal family’s heirloom, a universally recognized sign this was the son of a highly respected, pure bloodline

“ju–chan, have i ever led you astray?”

yes, many times, juza thought, reminiscing back on when they were kids. but, he didn’t say any of that, he instead shook his head solemnly

hyodo juza, first in line, prince feared across many nations, legacy in the making, was only eighteen when he would be coronated as king. the youngest king in all of higanbana history, all because his father was dying

and, he needed to secure his ascension through marriage to a complete stranger

but rest assured, muku, number one advisor, cousin to the crown prince, wise beyond all, was surprisingly relentless. becoming the new upcoming king’s right hand man had changed him for the better, preventing him from letting his insecurity and indecisiveness show its true colors

sure, he was still the scared coward who screamed unlike a man and didn’t have the natural class of royalty, but putting on a front was worth it to save juza from losing all support inside and out

the abrupt news that the oldest son of the hyodo family was soon to be hailed as king was, a surprise, to the townsfolk. many who were comfortable and simply used to king hyodo’s reign were not vocally against it, luckily enough. it was more a thing to gossip about than anything, but the royal family never particularly enjoyed the rumor mill

unfortunately, being coronated as a... single king was a pressing matter to all of the people, apparently. no king in history just rose to power without an influential and powerful partner by their side, it would leave vulernability due to the limited allies

especially what would remain of them, considering some kingdoms may break ties with the hyodos since juza and his father were... very different people

so, as said before, muku was relentless. continously insisting that this marriage contract was the best possible option for juza, that no other heir could even come close. juza didn’t want to believe it even if it was true, considering his stubborn nature

it took many, many bribes of tea parties and constant challenging duels for him to admit defeat

it was perhaps a tiring match that afternoon before juza exhaled sharply through his nose, moving to sheath his sword as he waved the white flag. muku, also surprisingly quick and agile on his feet with a weapon, managed to suppress a “told you so” grin at the look of exasperation

“fine, fine! i’m tired of fighting—” juza was not a major fan of dueling whatsoever, even if he was blessed with the physical proportions to do so easily

before muku could jump up in relief, juza sent a stern glare with no malice towards his cousin’s way. the sword hit the sheath, making a loud cutting noise throughout the empty, private training grounds

“but, i want to meet them first. then, i’ll decide to marry or not.”

muku knew this was the best he was going to get, and had the private secretary immediately pen a letter toward’s akizakura. shortly afterwards, a request for the heir to visit was accepted

you were also first in line, an intimidating but just political figure, and also a legend in the making. you were the talk of the town, to say the least

but, you sure didn’t feel like it

you anxiously tapped your foot, feeling seasick from how long this boat journey had already been. you had been invited by the higanbara kingdom to “visit” to “discuss political alliances and ideas to better serve the people”, though anyone with a brain could see straight through that lie

your parents intended on promising you to some eighteen year old hyodo hotshot, someone you’ve never even met!

at first, you were extremely demanding for them to consider changing their minds, that you didn’t need... a man... to help you rule the world. men would only hold you back, they’d do nothing good for you, anyways!

but, you knew the future of akizakura was in your hands. your parents were strong, but slowly, their old age would catch up to them and they needed to protect the famly legacy. you were the next expected heir, considering how active you’ve been in the government since you could read and write

though, no one exactly stated a marriage contract came along with power

you didn’t exactly know what higanbara looked like, but you’ve heard... rumors, about the family that ruled it all. the hyodos were an imposing force, spreading their control far and wide with unfathomable military power and merciless tactics

you couldn’t imagine what the crown prince was like. how, barbaric, he must be. must’ve been an inhumane and unreasonable fighter that took everyones’ heads with him

lucky for you, you were a trained fighter as well who would never let a man even have a sliver of control over your dead body

“your royal highness, we are here in higanbara.” the captain announced, followed by the sound of the ship’s horn. thank the gods, or you might have swam there yourself considering how rocky sea travels were

fixing your appearance, you masked your face in a stone cold expression, showing you were all business without the supervision of your parents. you were your own person, you didn’t need to be ordered around by some man

as the ship reached port, you noticed a set of figures at the foggy dock. higanbara was... dismal. it was all shades of grey, like there was no life. the oceans were a glittering silver, as if there were thousands of treasures waiting to be discovered. and at the port, was a sight to behold

you stepped onto the creaky wood cautiously, looking around before you noticed a stoic face peering down at you. perhaps a beat too late from how much he was staring, he then offered his hand without ever saying a word

you ignored it, knowing you didn’t need it at all. but from the looks of it, they were calloused, scarred, large. hands of a warrior—his eyebrows rose slightly in surprise at your blatant rejection. before he could speak, you heard someone else introduce the kingdom

“your royal highness, welcome to higanbara!” you heard a gentle, but enthusiastic, voice from behind the tall man who helped you on land. you turned to see a rather short, pink–haired royal with a shaky but elegant smile. you couldn’t help but smile at the boy

(you didn’t notice juza’s subconcscious quirk of his lips at your guard coming down, before he looked away with his ears red and mind confused. why did he do that?)

“thank you...?” you trailed off, awaiting an introduction before the pink royal dropped into a hurried but somewhat graceful bow, coming up with a surprise rose. you had no idea where it came from, causing you to let out a surprised laugh. higanbara was filled with many surprises, apparently

“i am his royal highness’ first advisor, sakisaka muku, it is a pleasure.” muku smiled pleasantly, but you noticed his eyes lingered on the way you stood oddly close with the crown prince

you tried to step back casually as if there was nothing wrong, but you almost stumbled off the edge of the dock. unluckily, juza was fast and immediately wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you close as he froze under the sudden attention at your close proximity

“let go.” you demanded and your tone was ice cold like the waters

“please... be careful—” juza mumbled, his grip strong before you pushed him off, scowling with a sharp glare his way

“let go!” you yelled, drawing attention as you glared daggers at higanbara’s crown prince. you couldn’t believe it, did all men just think they could grip you like that? as if you needed help?!

“do not touch me, i did not give you permission.” you cursed, shocking nearly everyone as you brushed off your clothes. juza blinked, taken back before he frowned, his eyebrows furrowed

“but, if i hadn’t, you would’ve fell into the water—”

“then, let me fall! i can swim!”

when you met his eyes, he was very clearly frustrated. the awe of meeting you had worn off, and juza was certain he’d make an enemy out of your stubborn pride and rude attitude right off the bat

muku intervened, laughing awkwardly as if a newcomer didn’t just yell at higanbara’s crown prince. stepping between you two, he seemed to communicate something with his eyes to juza who suppressed the need to storm off

“i am first in line, crown prince hyodo juza. a... pleasure.” juza faltered, his tone superficial and void of any genuine pleasure. he bowed anyways, his back rigid and yellow eyes analyzing your every move. he must’ve been a battle tactician with how observant he was

you didn’t do anything back, just crossed your arms and averted your eyes. “i know who you are, you know who i am. can we move on?”

juza was about to impulsively snap back before muku agreed, staying between you two despite the common courtesy of trailing behind royalty. the guards set at the port parted on command, yelling back “yes sir!” at juza’s order to march back to the castle

was this a power move? to intimidate you and make you go in shock over juza’s military background? two could play at this game

you stood taller, ignoring his gaze as you hurried forward, not wanting to be beside the man who just randomly touched you without your consent. not to mention, the audacity to linger! how inappropiate!

juza stared after you, and looked over his shoulder towards muku, visually confused over how offstandish you were

muku just sighed. this was going to be a long, long two weeks of akizakura’s ascending heir in higanbara

it was an understatement to say you and juza got off on the wrong foot. you never allowed just anyone to touch you randomly out of no where. you weren’t some clumsy person in distress, you were a leading figure in your kingdom, for goodness sake! you easily could’ve fixed your footing, stood back up straight, and moved on

juza was rather peeved at your reaction. you didn’t even take his hand like a polite royal would! didn’t thank for him for saving you from the ocean and had the audacity to curse him out like he was some commoner in front of his own troops. juza felt embarrassed from how low he was treated, you had no respect for him or higanbara

muku, was tired. when other nobles whispered about how out of the ordinary and eccentric you were and how strange akizakura’s customs were, he didn’t expect having to save his crown prince from a near beating

you had guts and nerve, just like juza. maybe, you two had more than meets the eye, but unfortunately, both people were stubborn, prideful, and arrogant privileged kids who didn’t want to see the other side

so throughout the first half of your stay, muku felt more like a babysitter than an advisor. it took everything in his power to keep you two from physically fighting each other in front of the royal circle

you two seemed to disagree on everything. while you were an “all or nothing” type of pefson, who went extreme on every suggestion you had and was willing to risk everything for a better future, juza was... the opposite

unlike his bold and brash father who would’ve gotten along just fine with you, juza wanted new change. he was always playing the devil advocate, pointing out flaws you hadn’t taken account for before. but, he was hesitant, wanting to take it slow, and ease into the plan than go head first

it made both your tactics and strategies clash and nothing was getting done. but muku, wise and relentless muku, knew it was more than just childish arguments at the round table. it was the slowly building tension between you two ever since that one bad first impression

and perhaps, the intense pressure from both sides to accept this arranged marriage for the sake of both kingdoms. it was too much on teens savoring their last few years of youth

and just like before, muku knew what needed to happen in order for someone (most likely juza) to give up their defenses and say something

you elegantly strode into the training grounds early in the morning, holding the first advisor’s personal note in your hand as you looked around. you were scheduled to meet muku, in a neutral place to get the overview of today’s meeting without juza’s involvement

or, so you thought

you heard a scuff of shoes and a quick “damn, sakisaka” behind you. whipping around, you came face to face with a sleepy juza, who’s eyes immediately widened and took a few steps back. it seemed like you caught him off guard, and he held a similar note in his hand as well

it didn’t take a genius to figure out what muku had done, as you huffed and placed your hands on your hips. juza straightened his posture and looked down at you, expressing that he wished he could be anywhere but with you

“hyodo—” you started, to which juza pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “that’s my father, i’m juza.” you continued anyways, ignoring his sharp pointed look

“are you here to fight with me again? perhaps, make a fool of me again?” you accused, pointing a finger at his chest as seethed. juza rolled his eyes, visibily frustrated as he threw his hands up, planning his escape already

“i have no business with you here. i will depart now.” juza forced out in a neutral tone, as if you two hadn’t been at each other’s throats the past week. before juza could spin on his heel and take his leave, you grabbed a sword near by and the sound of it leaving its sheath made him stop in his tracks

“you. me. right now.” you demanded and juza let out a humorless laugh. you were in over your head if you could think you could beat a hyodo at a duel. looking at the sky, he noticed it would be quite a bit of time until the official start of his day as crown prince. maybe, he could spare a bit of time

“at your service, your royal highness.” juza mocked, obnoxiously bowing that made your eye twitch at how insufferable he was

“take your pick. regardless, you’ll lose by my hand.”

juza chose his normal practice sword, the hilt engraved with his name and bore the spider design of the red lily. it had the grandeur of being a ceremonial sword, which you scoffed at. ugh, rich kids

you took the one closest to you and juza expected you two would walk to the middle, circle each other to see who would make the first move. he should’ve known you weren’t exactly the waiting type, because the moment he stepped into the ring, you hit first

luckily, juza whipped his sword up and the metal clashed with yours, the sound echoing in the courtyard. that was the start of the longest duel juza’s ever had

used to muku’s dexterity, juza had to find out the hard way you were much more of a strength fighter. you took him by surprise most times, with forceful and somewhat vengeful attacks. yet, juza was a formidable opponent. he had learned from the best after all, and this was one of the few duels he had the goal to try at

you smirked when juza nearly lost his footing, not reaching out to catch him by any means and holding your hands up. “see, i respect people’s private space and don’t touch them without permission.”

juza swung back with much more force than normal, which you hurriedly parried. the contact of metal rang in your ears as juza gained the upper hand, looming over you with distaste

“you would’ve drowned if i let you fall!”

“you knew i didn’t take your hand for a reason, i refuse to let a man touch me!”

you pushed back but he was like a rock, unmoving and resilient. he seemed to contemplate something before putting his sword down, nearly sheathing it before stopping, making sure to meet your eye

“i’m sorry.”

you blinked, taken back. was that an apology? from a hyodo?

“i understand you have your reasonings to hate physical contact, and i respect that. by no means did i mean to make you uncomfortable.” juza explained, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders as he finally found a time to apologize properly

“i wouldn’t have touched you unless i knew it was for your own safety, i’m sorry.” juza finished and you thought about it, before putting your own sword down with a heavy sigh

“i’m... also sorry. i knew you had good intentions, but i blew up because...” you seemed to think some more before exhaling. “i don’t need a man to save me, don’t think i need you or anything. i’m a perfectly capable, independent person.”

juza related to how your pride blinded your anger, and nodded. you two seemed to reach a mutual understanding and juza ducked his head, lowering it so it’d be easier to talk to you away from the castle that was waking up

“i did not mean to insult your character. i’m sure you are a whole person who does not need saving, it was not my intention.”

without another word, you moved past him, acting as if you were going to put your weapon away. instead, you quickly knocked his sword out of his loose hands, smiling innocently as if nothing happened

“i believe i win.”

“a dirty play, mind you.”

“a win is a win.”

“a victory is nothing if not honorable.”

you looked over your shoulder with a curious look, as if you were really seeing juza for the first time. you expected a burly man who would burn down nations just for a taste of godhood. instead, he seemed humble, unlike a hyodo

“hyodo—”

“i’m not my father, i am juza.” juza repeated again, without the usual bite, and you suddenly understood why juza taking the throne was big news. he was nothing like his father, this would be the ushering of a new age

hopefully, a golden age

“juza,” you said for the first time and for once, he presented a close–lipped smile that seemed void of royal duties. “i look forward to dueling you again.”

“as do i.”

“do not expect to win.”

(first advisor muku held in his squeals on the balcony adjacent to the training grounds. he typically liked to sneak up there to read and prepare for the day, but he was hiding this time to eavesdrop. looks like his plan worked!)

(when juza looked up to meet his eyes, he looked as if he knew all this time. muku nervously smiled and waved slowly, to juza’s hidden relief that he made progress)

(but... why was he so happy to see you weren’t holding a grudge against him anymore? did your opinion truly mean that much?)

the round table was much more, productive. muku liked to take credit for the riveting debates that replaced the senseless arguments, finding that both you and juza had similar goals at the end of the day, just different tactics

although there were still some very inappropiate comments here and there by your mouth, it didn’t seem personal anymore. it was clear to the court that you were intelligent, bright, and offered new perspective that no one else considered. they all knew akizakura was a force not to be reckoned with

by then, a week had passed, and it was time for the welcoming ball!

you would be introduced to the rest of the castle through a rather lame excuse to party. you knew what all of the glamarous charades and rich pleasantries were really all about, to assess if akizakura was worthy of taking their beloved crown prince’s hand. you could’ve laughed, because that was a major joke

you didn’t need to do anything, you knew you already were above and beyond what they expected. so that night as you insisted on preparing your appearance alone, you were slightly annoyed to hear a knock on your guest chambers

“go away! i said—”

“your royal highness, this is crown prince juza’s first advisor, sakisaka muku.”

you paused, looking away from the mirror and relented, letting him come in. when muku silently stepped inside and closed the door gently, he bowed with newfound confidence and sent you an easy smile that made you feel at ease

you understood why juza would want muku around, he didn’t seem like that dependable of a guy, but he was a good person through and through

“sakisaka, i remember you. you were the one who misled me to duel juza.” you said, giving him an once over before fixing your hair, staring back into the mirror. out of the corner of your eye, you noticed muku blush and he resorted to laughing awkwardly unprompted

“ah... yes—”

“and you were the one hiding in the balcony, correct?”

muku’s eyes widened, how did he get caught?! he thought only juza noticed. it was no wonder how you were such an equal match to higanbara’s crown prince, you had the same strengths and few weaknesses

“please, you do not give me enough credit.” you hummed in response, standing up and approving your final look of the day. you would wear akizakura’s kingdom colors, with the crest pinned. it would leave no question who you represented and where your loyalties lied

muku rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a breathy “haha” as the silence overcame. you slipped your kingdom ring on, watching it glint in the subtle candle light

“though, i must thank you, shouldn’t i?” you spoke in rhetorics often, muku realized. he waited for you to continue and you did, busying yourself with cleaning up your station. you had no need of maids even if you respected the profession

“without you, i wouldn’t have gotten an apology out of him. now, we’re...” you trailed off, unsure on how to finish that statement. muku hid his teasing smile, masking it as something innocent as he gratefully bowed his head, his white–gloved hand over his heart

“friends?”

you didn’t answer, instead standing tall and turning to completely face muku. he didn’t look you in the eye, but he too increased his height as if to match your authority. he was admirable for at least trying

“i must say, first advisor, juza is most fortunate to have you clean up his messes.” you half–joked, and muku nodded, agreeing seriously even if it was in jest

“however, i can promise you this. if you must contact me, do not trick me. i will not be as merciful.”

a shiver ran down muku’s spine. you truly were next in line of ruthless akizakura. but, it was a sign of respect, nonetheless. everyone was fully aware of how outstanding and remarkable you were to be the voice of the new generation

“understood, your highness. i did not come to deceit you, only to greet my cousin when he arrives.”

you tilted your head. this was news—no one could exactly tell muku and juza were cousins. really? the same bloodline?

“are you serious?”

“we get that reaction a lot.” you heard juza’s voice behind the door and you subconsciously broke your stern expression, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms. muku noticed your shoulders dropped ever so slightly, you must’ve been comfortable around juza, then

“come in already, don’t be a creep.” you called out and juza stepped inside, stopping at the sight of you. instantly, his cheeks became flushed and he seemed like he was about to do something incredibly stupid (which he did, amused muku did not stop him)

“you—um, you, you look... nice.”

nice? you looked absolutely amazing, you already knew that. you were going to be the best dressed in the entire ballroom, that’s for sure

(but, for some reason, you were disappointed. nice? was that all you were to him? wait—why did you care?! a man’s validation of your appearance was the last thing you needed)

muku was this close to intervening before you huffed, patting down your outfit. “do i suddenly have value because i look nice?” you air–quoted “nice” and juza got even redder, looking away as if to save his dignity

“no, no. your worth isn’t based on your looks.” juza reassured and you knew he meant it. you relaxed a bit, thankful juza didn’t have the same intentions as every royal noble out there ever. muku’s eyes bounced back from you and juza continously, picking up on the signs with increasing interest

he had never seen juza slip up this much around someone before... could it be? did he actually like you now?

“look at the time! i must go help with the preparations, come down soon.” muku lied, which juza caught on fairly quickly. before he could call muku to come back, the young advisor sliped out of the chambers and ran to the main event. he succeeded in leaving you and juza alone

an uncomfortable silence set over both of you as juza examined your room out of curiousity, and you tapped your foot. you were confused, what was this feeling inside your chest? why were you suddenly so nervous?

if you were confused, you didn’t let it show on your face. instead, juza offered his arm, holding it out to you with no threat at all as he gestured his chin towards the ballroom

“would you do me the honor of letting me escort you to the ball?”

you stared at his arm, the arm you noticed was slightly shaking, whether from nerves or holding it out too long, who knew. as much as you hated to admit it, you wouldn’t want any other person escorting you

with a turn of events, you took juza’s arm and felt it tense before relaxing, giving you a chance to let go any time. he put on a rare smile, and you liked how his yellow eyes crinkled at the corners when he did

“thank you.” for trusting me, for changing your opinion about me, for giving me a chance even if i don’t deserve it, juza thought, but it was all unsaid

“sure.” you responded, but you smiled, too. it was the first time you had given him such a genuine smile, that he couldn’t help but do the same

you two moved to stand at the top of the stairs, awaiting the announcement of both your names. in the mean time, you realized juza wasn’t the hyodo you thought he was

as he escorted you down the stairs, with everyone’s eyes on you two, you two were the splitting image of graceful and threatening intimidation and power. but, it didn’t feel like that. instead, it was just you and juza, a crown prince who had a nasty temper and natural hand at sword dueling

the ball seemed to last a lifetime. so many unnecessary introductions which you put a front on. social interaction was draining, it was becoming a difficult task to shake everyone’s hands and pretended like you cared about rich people problems

so, like every celebration ever, you escaped the main event and stepped into the hyodo rose garden. mostly hues of orange, you noticed the eternal autumn that hung over the kingdom. oranges and reds entranced you as you sat at the edge of the water fountain in the middle, the constant stream distracting you from the background party noise

(“where are they?” juza asked, pulling wallflower muku aside who mainly stood by the buffet table to hide extra sweets for his cousin. muku smiled, his eyes sliding in the direction of the rose garden as juza caught on. though, juza seemed hesitant, like he was worried if he should go or not)

(“do not be a fool, ju–chan. what other time will you have to confess?” muku asked and juza nearly choked on his champagne glass, shooting a wide–eyed look at his cousin. it was as if he was asking how did he know?)

(“this is your first crush, isn’t it? luckily, the person you intend on marrying.” muku lightheartedly jested, to which juza bumped his shoulder into his slightly. “like i said, do not be a fool, ju–chan. go.”)

(juza contemplated it before nodding, slipping out of mind and out of sight. muku proudly raised his glass after him, as if to say congratulations. all that gossip with the town cupid paid off for muku, his crown prince would be hopelessly pining without him)

(all he needed to do was one last thing. first advisor made his way towards the orchestra, about to request a song)

you watched the moonlight for quite a time before you heard a rustle of leaves towards the entrance, turning your head to see juza. juza, in his orange and black uniform and red spider lily pendant. juza looked dashing beneath the stars, as he waited for you to invite him

you moved aside and juza sat down at a safe distance, stargazing along with you. the silence was comfortable, this time around. it was filled with glasses clinking together, the everpresent buzz of crickets, and flow of the water fountain

unlike your initial thoughts, you didn’t exactly mind higanbara as much as you thought you would

“the ball, is a bit much.” juza admitted, to which you agreed. “tell me about it, i don’t know how you lasted that long.” you said lightheartedly, but it seemed to make juza think as he leaned back, balancing himself by stretching his hands out on the rim of the fountain

“i... i don’t like balls, really. my father always liked them, he was the life of the party.” you noticed juza used the past tense even if his father was still alive, but you knew not for long

“he was also, born to be king. could command a whole army without fail, delivered inspiring speeches that could get the whole town riled up, was the face of his kingdom. now...”

“it’s you.”

juza nodded, as if accepting this fact for the first time. it was as clear as the full moon that night—juza was afraid he could never live up to the legacy his father would soon leave behind

“i don’t want to be king.” juza confessed in a whisper, like it could change anything. you wanted to be a monarch, but you understood juza’s struggles. he must’ve missed out on a normal childhood, like every other person born into nobility

“but, i care for the people of higanbana. i will do my best to make them proud, and to continue the legacy of this kingdom.” juza continued, clenching his fists as he did so. you turned your head to see he looked lighter, like it was something weighing him down ever since he found out

“you’ll be a good king. i have seen your plans, and you are unlike your father. you will be better.”

juza turned to stare into your eyes, searching for any sign of lies. you were telling the truth, and you were shocked at how honest you just were. but, you believed it. you believed in juza and his legacy, the incoming new golden age would arrive

“thank you, i—your people are lucky to have you.” juza said, but he seemed distant. before he could lean in, you heard the soft playing of the orchestra from far, far away

this time, you stood up and offered your hand. unlike last time however, juza accepted your hand and it was true. both your hands were calloused, scarred, large. so the two warriors wordlessly slow danced under the moonlight in the rose garden to their new favorite song

that night, juza may have not said it out loud, but both of you were too observant and smart for your own good. as he walked you to your chambers, you were the one who leaned in this time

“is this a dirty play?” you teased, inches away from his lips. juza gulped as he admired your face illuminated by the lanterns

“a win is a win.”

it was all fair, in the game of love

your two weeks had passed. it was time for you to go home, back to akizakura to make your final decision of whether to marry a hyodo or not

you let juza help you into the boat even if you didn’t need it, and said goodbye to the grey higanbana and it’s forever autumn. there was no one around since juza requested a private departure, so you let yourself smile at him

“will i see you again?” juza asked the question that had been weighing on his mind ever since that night in the rose garden. you were on the ship, but didn’t let go of his hand

“do not be a fool, juza,” you started roughly, and juza could feel his heart drop. was this the end? he didn’t want this to be the last time, he liked you

“next time, you’ll go to akizakura. there, we can duel.”

“and i’ll win.” juza confirmed and you let go, fondly rolling your eyes. as the ship departed, you suddenly rushed to the edge, cupping your hands around your mouth

“tell sakisaka i said thank you!”

of course, you found out about everything. juza just nodded and waved, watching you disappear into the horizon

juza would await your invitation to akizakura as he practiced his dueling skills with a certain matchmaker named sakisaka muku

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