#someone who’s remembered on a certain day but forgotten about the feast of the year

[drowning-in-cacophony]

Ten Years Tomorrow

For @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 213: Ten Years Later

[Summary: two former comrades meet up, ten years on]

The chair creaks ominously as someone slides their weight in, barely bothering to pull it back. Maybe they want a seamless arrival. Maybe they’re an idiot who doesn’t realise this isn’t a place that bolts down the seats.

Either way, actually, they’re an idiot, because a seamless arrival, gone one moment and there the next, was never going to happen. She’d clocked them as soon as they’d walked into the place. Into town, really.

How could she not?

They clear their throat. Their hopeful first sign of appearing or a genuine need, who knows.

“Ten years tomorrow, huh?”

She doesn’t look at them. Not yet. The words are neutral enough, what everyone will be talking about. It’s a national celebration – a flicker at the screen set in one corner will assure that. They’re talking parades. Massive dramatizations of how it all went down. Feasts, gifts, days off work. A whole thing. It’s a decade, after all. That’s a big deal.

Her plans for tomorrow are a little different.

It’s a decade. After all.

She wonders if that’s why they’re in town. To praise the celebrations, maybe participate in a fete or two. Or because they know that whatever she’s doing, it’s not going to be about participation.

“Long time, really,” they add on after a lengthy pause, yet like the time that’s passed, it’s not enough for her to forget. She curls her fingers up into her palms, hidden by the shadow of her elbows set on the counter. Says nothing.

“It’s a whole new order, now. Something fresh; something born out of the ashes of what came before. They’ll be hoping for another decade. Another ten decades.”

Born out of the ashes: they’re not wrong. She remembers those ashes, how they’d scorched along her palms as she dug – in fact, she still has the burn scars, still pink and waxy even after all this time. They make certain actions uncomfortable, and they make for excellent reminders of what ten years ago had cost. Of what it was meant to cost, and the actual price it took.

Of course, it wasn’t just a case of overcharging. It was deliberate. Made heavier on purpose.

Her fingers curl tighter; the scars pull with them.

It had taken her months to stop choking on the ash in her lungs and months to plan tomorrow too. This sort of thing needs precision, a sharp mind – is that why they’re here then, if they mean to stop her? To dull her mind against their unrelenting excuses? It’ll be one of the only things that can be done. She’s done nothing wrong yet, nothing that’s wrong under this new order at least. Her old sins and failures, they were wiped out on the day she committed them.

“I don’t know if you look at the world much, but it’s coping. It’s moving on. Maybe it should be allowed to. Maybe the past should be buried tomorrow. Let those ashes go.”

She takes a very deliberate breath, as deliberate as their move a decade ago. “Maybe.”

They startle a little, from the sound of her voice. It’s sudden, considering her silence; it’s a reminder that maybe they’d forgotten, slid under the floorboards of the world’s coping. Coping! Like that’s a reason to let things by. The world’s coping, but it shouldn’t be. It should be thriving. People should be thriving, stretching and growing. Not-

Not this.

“Look,” they say, taking a breath of their own. “I’m in town for the celebrations. Thought… well. It seemed appropriate.”

“So you looked me up.” She wonders if they did it alone, or if this is some sort of sanctioned thing. Last she heard, they were doing pretty well for themselves. Taking the ashes and building themselves stairs while she burned her flesh.

“We should- I mean. It’s ten years tomorrow. Maybe we could take in the celebrations together.”      

“Together.” Her tone’s flat. Together, it says. You think I’d want to go together with you?

They, naturally, flinch.

“We’re the only ones left, aren’t we? It seems fitting. You and me, letting the world celebrate its biggest milestone of this order. A whole decade.”

They keep repeating how long it’s been. As if a decade is a millennia, too long to consider changing anything. Too long to fight against, because it’s too many years coming in to pin down. But a decade’s just a decade. Ten years, not even a generation. Ten years, and most of the people in this place were born well before ten years. They remember.

And even if it’d been a millennia. There are some things worth fighting, even if it’ll be like an avalanche.

“It does sound fitting,” she tells them. “You and me, the last ones left.”

They jolt, and out of the corner of her eye she sees the hopeful twitch at the corner of their mouth.

“I have missed you, you know.”

“I know.” Obviously they’d have missed her, otherwise they’d never have come here, ordered or not. It’s not just duty or worry that’s brought them here, it’s that hollow loneliness that they’d know only she’d understand and feel in that searching way. Once, they’d all been something. Closer than anything. That sort of thing can’t be replaced, no matter how hard someone tries.

She’s the only person left in the world who knows what they’re feeling. Who could smooth those raw edges, even just for one day.

Her edges hurt too, of course, but she dug in the ashes and fire cauterises pretty well. Even with them being as messy and aching as they are. It will be fitting, really, them both together again, ten years later.

As it began, so it will end. And this time, there will be no fire they can escape.

“So you and me? Taking in the celebrations together?” They check. The smile on their face grows a little, hope and the wry fondness they’d always worn when they’d looked at her. At any of them.

“It’ll be fitting.”

“Great! Something to look forward to. Tomorrow.” The chair creaks again as they lean back in it, more of a relaxed posture now. They think they’ve won something: their eyes on her. If this is duty, they’ll think there no way she can do anything now. If this was just about old connections, then they’ve got what they wanted too.

And so has she.

#flash fiction friday #flash fiction #writeblr #short story #word count: 1067 #a litttlleee over but hopefully that's still okay #anyway such a fun prompt! I've intrigued myself with this #anna's writing

[mooneyedandglowing]

XCX

Certain medications always cause nightmares for me. Last night I dreamed of a baby dying, which is a common dream for me. They started this year and usually involve a baby drowning in a basin because the man who was watching the child either looks away or doesn’t understand that the infant is in trouble. And that dream always ends with me lifting the small body out of the water either too soon or too late. This time his left eyelid was blackened, singed by the sun, and the skin of his forehead was a furious red. He’d been left on a countertop. A man was meant to be watching him. And I lifted him elsewhere and performed CPR. I was conscious enough to know I was crying in my sleep. I brought him back while the man stood around and looked on and acted amazed and grateful. I was conscious enough to know I was screaming. Before that dream, I dreamt of a woman recalling her father and his death. She said, “When I broke my ankle in the first grade . . . he made me laugh.” She said, said, “And while he lay there dying . . . he made me laugh.” I was conscious enough to know I was crying in my sleep. I was conscious enough to know I was wailing.  I want a world where the same dull mistakes aren’t repeated. I want a world where I can’t predict a failing. I want a world where I no longer feel a catch in my throat when I try to speak. Eventually nothing hurts your feelings. Eventually most people mean very little. Eventually it’s a cloud of characters that move across the air until you can’t make out even a single face. They become a part of the haze. Each day of your life before now is forgotten with each now. You struggle to understand the nostalgia of others. Everything is new to you or so old it’s barely real and of little interest. You’ve examined it already. You’ve blown it away. You don’t know how to get along otherwise - how to keep moving. Some people like to stay where they are though. They’d like if you had stayed where you were. It’s no use thinking about it. It’s unfortunate - all these different places we belong to - there is no neutral zone.  All editions now are revised editions. They make less sense. They make more sense. No one tells them to each other but they repeat them to themselves - the way we’ve learned to tell this to ensure our self-esteem. People judge and deride others for what they yearn to do themselves. When they were young they would wish for the confidence or courage to be and to receive, but age steals the energy to wish and hatefulness takes over the position. Every dead tree gets fed upon. People are bound to lie to the self. Getting devoured, we feast on hope until none is left. I don’t want it to happen to me. There is difference between my anger and the hatefulness. I don’t want it to happen to me. I don’t want to feel bitterness at what has been and is unfair. For what is bad and for what is unkind and for what is not fair - If not me, who? Why not me if anyone? I don’t understand your pain. I understand my own.  I haven’t been writing. I’ve barely been at all. I remember asking for allowance to simply exist and I feel like I’ve simply existed myself into a strange nonexistence. On, on, on. Off. I feel nothing most of the time. And when I do, I am tired. I am overwhelmed. Off. Too much to think about. Off. I still don’t know how much my dad’s death has changed in me. He was in that great big house alone and let himself die. When I was 12 or 13, he walked me up the driveway at night. I remember the wet grass in conflict with the sharp gravel against my bare feet. He said, “If I had the courage, I would have killed myself already.” I didn’t know what to say. I think I just looked at the sky, and it feels like I can remember every placement of every star. I couldn’t know his pain. I couldn’t understand it. But I could know my own. Too much. Too great. Something to be put away. Something unsafe to hold, show, share. Someone touches me near it and my body jumps out of itself and maybe it goes towards those stars and hangs there for a little while. Maybe that’s where I am right now, dangling off a star. Someone accused me once of feigning intimacy. The accusation didn’t hurt. Several more have accused me of acting my way though our relationship. Those accusations didn’t hurt. I don’t know what anyone could expect of me. They never say. I never ask. I remember years ago misreading something before years later realizing I had been barely a blip - they’d rebounded into and off of me. And I didn’t know. I felt so stupid for what I hadn’t been told until I was told and until the evidence said what it said, which was stupid and embarrassing and gross and cheapened my feeling until all meaning was removed. I realized the capacity for delusion that had somehow been stowed away since adolescence until adulthood. And then the year my dad died I misread again. I thought I had figured all of this life out, finally, and that the work left was just to rebuild from that new knowledge. I was well. My relationships were straightforward in their expressions, and I trusted. There was no one suffocating me, and I was not compelled to control. I felt able to be and began to tell my stories as unrevised as I could. But I had misread again. I didn’t see. I was not told. And then suddenly on the agenda were all new lies I was tasked with. I wished to be doing anything else than this again. But I had learned that to make it make sense would be to funnel it through myself. It would not lead to the truth but a version of it that had played telephone tag through my own biases. I don’t understand your motivations. To try would be to find a lie to tell myself that will eventually be destroyed by some sadder realization. I shouldn’t have bothered to try any of the times I tried. But deluded, I tried. Only this time I thought my authenticity would be what would make the difference; however, to not have emulated anything - to not have been somewhat not myself to some degree - made it all the worse for me by the end. But I don’t want to be unable to hold that space that way again. I don’t want to be upended by that rejection. Changed or regressed after so much work to be, so much work to arrive there and trust another with who I am and who I’ve been.  With the gray sky my indifference feels brought along. It’s not unfair, this life. If not me, then who. If anyone, then why not me. I’ve lived where I shouldn’t have. And that will continue until it doesn’t. Hate would make no difference to it. I feel safe that I won’t be devoured, won’t be unable to find my hopes. And find them again. And once more. And find forgiveness for what I’m not, for what I won’t be, for what wasn’t meant for me. Happiness for those who are, who will. There’s one blessing of every terror-filled story: when it has been as it has been since your own bloody birth, it can’t get any worse. You know that much. And I’ve had to learn to live for the minor peace between. The cat who sleeps curled around my head like a crown. The way coarse salt pops when pressed against my teeth. The burn of hot water, my heart racing to meet it. A stranger who is cringe enough to say “Hello, love” when he passes by me as I stand in the street. Ducks. Ice cream. A brief shine of sun. The way I fight myself to win myself. The way I always will. This small freedom of joy. Not knowing how to feel sorry for the self. Not knowing if I need to. 

#personal #journal #life #spilled ink #diary #no one needs to read this it is long and personal and probably not great but i want to be writing more often even if I don't say anything #that is particularly spectacular #it's a step I need to be taking

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust | 5 - culmination

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🔖 a/n - aaah some stuff finally starts going down in this chapter, thanks y'all for staying patient through the last four chapters. please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for updates! enjoy!

—

  “Admittedly,” Zhongli sighed, “I may have gone a little overboard with the food.”

   You both peered at the carnage leftover from your feast, the table strewn with at least half of the meal left.

   “Are you full?” Zhongli inquired. He wasn’t smiling, but there was unmistakeable amusement in his voice. You nodded — a few minutes ago, you’d felt like you could have eaten everything on the table, but the physical limits of your stomach betrayed you. “Very well. Let’s clean up, then I will show you around the house. How does that sound?”

   It still took you by surprise, each time he asked you for your opinion. “It sounds good, Mr. Zhongli.”

—

   The first time you touched him was as he handed you one of the plates, as you thumbed over the intricate blue-white markings and felt your fingers brush.  You didn’t know it then, but it would not be the last.

   He was wearing his gloves, and so it was really leather that you’d touched, but it was electrifying all the same. You winced, searching his features for any displeasure. It was not your place to so much as gaze upon a noble of  half his status without permission, let alone touch — you’d been taught that lesson, quickly and very early on.

   “Please take this to the kitchen,” he requested, as though nothing had happened. You obeyed with slow, deliberate steps, squashing even any thoughts of dropping the fine china. Gingerly — how in Celestia was even the inside of his fridge elegant? — you set it down, closed the door and almost jumped out of your skin. He was standing right behind you, arms crossed as he studied you, features unreadable.

   “Tell me a little about yourself, Hansi.”

   Small talk? Or a test? Surely, certainly, he wasn’t genuinely curious? You felt naked under his probing gaze, still clad in that plain white dress. Had it really only been a day since you’d met Zhongli? Every second with him seemed to stretch over the length of a millennia. Instinctively, your hands wandered to your chest, feeling for your Vision. Wasn’t there. Wouldn’t help you even if it was.

   I grew up in a shithole with a dozen other people. I stole, robbed, dredged myself through life, you imagined yourself saying to him, just to get sold to a nobleman who thinks I’m too stupid to understand his intentions. 

   By the way, three nights ago, Rex Lapis smoked up something real good and gave me a Geo Vision I don’t know how to use.

   “There is nothing to know about me,” you said, instead, “save that I am bound to you in loyal servitude, and that I will do as you please, Mr. Zhongli.“

   “Hm.” Zhongli hummed, a low echo. His golden gaze rend you through Then, rather abruptly, he said, “Let’s begin the house tour, shall we?”

   Somehow, his curtness stung. Had you said something wrong? What you’d said — that was the textbook response you were meant to give, no? Regardless, you nodded your obedience, swallowing the fear you felt, as always, at his displeasure.

—

   You almost expected there to be a dungeon of some sort hidden behind one of the doors, some skulls, maybe a poor chained up Hilichurl or two.

   What you didn’t expect was so many rocks. 

   And paintings. And scrolls, and trinkets, and jewelry, arranged carefully upon display stands in each room. You remembered how cluttered the drawers were that you hid your Vision in. In the daylight, now that your mind wasn’t clouded with as much fear and fatigue, you were realizing just how much stuff Zhongli owned.

    (Vaguely, it brought to mind images of dragons — the billowing, fire-breathing, treasure-hoarding creatures you’d read about in one of the many storybooks you’d stolen. You shook that image out of your head. Zhongli was plenty intimidating, even without a set of horns and fangs.)

   “—and this is the bathroom,” Zhongli said, pushing open the door. The bathroom, on its own, was bigger than the shack you’d shared with four other families growing up. In the middle of the room, the dark marble floor gave way to a large, circular bathtub — it looked a little like a pool. “You are free to use it, and anything in it, whenever you’d like.”

   The idea of a hot bath was heaven, but you were a hundred percent certain that your current state — dirt-caked fingernails and unkempt hair and all — was all that was keeping you safe. If you got nice and clean, who was to say what he would decide to do to you?

   No, you would avoid taking a bath as long as you could.

   Zhongli closed the door, and hesitated. “Hmm. There is less than I thought to show you,” he admitted. “These other rooms are simply full of items I’ve collected over the years, and I’m sure they would bore you.“

   “It would be my pleasure to hear more about them,” you said, quickly. You wanted to keep him talking; as long as he was talking, he was doing nothing else. Besides, you found yourself growing more and more intrigued about Zhongli — only so that you could read him better, you promised yourself.

   “Well, then far be it from me to deny you your pleasure,” he said. “What would you like to know more about?”

   You glanced around, gaze landing on a small, glass standing display case. Two gemstones sat side by side in it, both a rich, translucent gold — like his eyes, you thought. “What are those?”

   “Cor Lapis,” he said, and you heard a hint of something in his voice. Pride? “They were a gift, from someone close to me.”

   “Are they worth a lot? They’re so pretty.” You bit your lip. They were probably worth more than the average Liyue merchant would ever earn. Pretty? Really?

   “In terms of Mora, yes, they are worth no small amount,” Zhongli replied. “However, their value far surpasses material currency, for these are prime Cor Lapis samples from Mount Hulao.”

   “Hulao... in Jueyun Karst?” You’d heard the rumors that floated between drunk fishermen and merchants, of the dangers of the mountain, of those who entered and came back changed. You had never put much stock in them — drunk men would say just about anything.

   “Yes. And as I’m sure you know, Jueyun Karst is a dangerous place to venture into, without the proper precautions.”

   “Dangerous… even for you?” You glanced at the Vision hanging off his waist. You couldn’t imagine a situation where Zhongli would ever be forced to break that collected facade of his.

   “For any human.”

   You found yourself enjoying the light conversation — you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spoken to another person like this. “Who gave you these?” You tried to smile, and it came easier than you expected. “They must have been really nice, to give away something so expensive.”

   Immediately, you regret opening your mouth. Zhongli’s eyes darkened, and his face fell visibly.

   “Yes. She… was certainly very kind,” he said, quietly. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but didn't. Couldn’t.

   Was? You wanted to kick yourself. Of course you’d manage to bring up his dead friend in your first real conversation with him. The next seconds of silence were almost unbearable. Finally, you spoke up with the first thing that popped into your head. “So, you like rocks?”

   By the Archon, weren’t you on a roll today.

   You were pleasantly baffled to hear him chuckle, a deep, throaty rumble from the depths of his chest. “Yes, one could say that I am fond of them.” He said, amidst soft laughter. “And you?”

   “I don’t know much about them,” you admitted, “but the ones you have are beautiful, Mr. Zhongli.” So was his laugh.

   “Is that so?” He asked, the previous conversation seemingly forgotten, as he strode over to a case across the room, “perhaps you will find these to your fancy as well — these pieces of Noctilucuous Jade were mined from the deepest mines of the Mingyun...“

—

   By the time Zhongli had finished regaling you about his rock collection, the sky outside had become a smear of pink and orange, the sun drifting barely over the horizon. You hadn’t even noticed the time — Zhongli simply had the kind of voice that demanded wholehearted attention.

   “I seem to have gotten carried away again,” Zhongli smiled. Was it just you, or were his smiles coming more frequently? “Thank you for being such a good listener, Hansi.”

   You nodded in response, not quite sure what to say to that. The praise had a strange, warm feeling spreading through your chest.

   “All that’s left of the house is the library upstairs,” he paused, the tacit question clear on his lips.

   You froze. Ever since you started stealing to survive, you’d made a point to sell everything that couldn’t be eaten. Jewelry, hairpins, no matter how pretty, no matter how much your heart ached to put them on, went straight to the pawn store. But you could never sell books. You couldn’t bear to give up the worlds within them, the promises that one day you would be able to live as freely as the heroes of those stories.

   So you stole. First from Wanwen bookstore, then when the owner learned to watch for your grubby hands, from bags and pockets and homes. You devoured them like hot meals, kept them under the floorboards of your corner, read them out loud to the kids who lived with you, read them till the dirt from your fingers had smeared the words to unrecognition.

   You wanted to see Zhongli’s library, so badly that it hurt.

   But to tell him this would be to admit to him that you’d stolen those books, that you taught yourself a skill that someone of your social class didn’t deserve to learn. Something you weren’t worthy of.

   “I can’t read anyway,” you lied.

   “I see,” Zhongli said. “Then, shall we go and get some dinner? Are you feeling well enough to make a trip to Liyue Harbor? I know the most splendid restaurant.”

—

   You thought that things were going relatively well, that you were doing a fine job of squashing the unease and distrust of Zhongli that still gnawed at the corners of your mind. You were giddily excited, even, to be going to a restaurant for the first time.

   So, as you two arrived at the outskirts of Liyue, close enough to hear the bustle of nightlife, you certainly weren’t expecting the sudden wave of emotions that knocked you clean off your feet.

   It had started small — the unrelenting reminder of how out of place you would look at the restaurant. How out of place you would look in public, next to Zhongli in all his regality. Then: how out of place you truly were — how absurd of you to have started warming up to Zhongli when you knew, with every fiber of your being, what all men like him wanted; when you knew that one day he would grow impatient of waiting for you to offer it.

   If you took his dinner, his food, his kindness, what would you begin to owe him?

    Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. The bile that rose through your throat was hot and bitter, and you doubled over and retched noisily into the nearest bush. Vaguely, you could hear Zhongli’s exclamation and his footsteps approaching, but you couldn’t stop until your stomach was empty once again.

   You flinched violently at his light touch on your shoulder. “Hansi,” he said, and you were baffled at how genuine his concern sounded, “what happened? What’s wrong?”

   “I don’t know,” you whispered, and it was true. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

   “Please don’t apologize. Can you stand?” Zhongli asked, voice low and soothing. “Let’s get you home.”

   You nodded. “I’m sorry I ruined dinner.”

   “Nonsense, your health is infinitely more important.” He said. “Do you think that you can walk?”

   Once again, you nodded. You let him lead you home.

—

   When you reached the front door of the house, Zhongli’s hand on your shoulder firm and gentle, something had begun — deep in your heart — to fester. The fear, the confusion, the things that had fallen into place but didn’t quite fit together — it had all been boiling too long, too hot. 

   “Mr. Zhongli.” You said, as you stepped through the door, once again greeted by a warm gust of air. 

   “Yes, Hansi?” He asked, close behind. His hand on your shoulder was suddenly heavy, and hot. You shrugged it off, whipping around to stare him in the eyes.

   “Please, just— do whatever you’re planning to do to me.” You said, knowing that if you lost your momentum now you would never get it back.

   “I beg your pardon?”

   “I’m not a child. We both know what I'm here for. When I lived on the streets, two pieces Mora would have earned any nobleman a night -- let alone... however much you’ve spent.” You were vaguely aware of how many lines you were crossing with each word, but there was no stopping the words flowing from your lips now. You could feel your heart thrashing against your chest, anger warming your bones. 

   “We both know that I have nowhere to run, no way to defend myself, so just DO it already. Be cruel, hit me, whatever, do your thing so that I can stop holding my Archon-damned breath and waiting for the inevitable. What exactly are your intentions with me, sir?”

   You paused to catch your breath, and the horror set in suddenly. Your temper had always been the bane of your well-being — you just had to let it get the best of you, every time, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you have just bided your time and waited for his patience to run out later rather than sooner?

   Zhongli stayed silent, face pulled into a frown as though he was pondering over your words. Time seemed to slow into a viscous fluid, drowning you in its wake. You glanced down the hallway at your room.

   If he raised his hand against you, would you be able to make it to your room? Would you be able to grab your Geo Vision before he caught you, and would you even be able to use it against him, against the years of experience he’s had with his? You knew the answer to all of those questions: a resounding no.

   Would he let you live if you apologized? You opened your mouth to beg.

   “My intentions with you...” he said, brow pulled down over heavy lids. “Hm. It seems that I must apologize.”

   You let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. For the umpteenth time since your meeting with Zhongli, you wondered: What?

   “I have been trying to let you acclimate to your new life at your own pace, whilst moving on from your old.” Zhongli’s pursed lips were the only sign of discomfort in his composed features. “I did not know that such concerns were going through your head, though I should have seen that your seeming lack of fear was but a facade from your incredibly strong character.”

   In the corner of your eye, you saw your hands trembling. You tried to get them to stop. They would not.

   Zhongli swept on. “The circumstances of our meeting are... unfortunate. In time, you will understand my intentions in orchestrating our meeting, but for now -- you have been put in a very uncomfortable situation. I am remiss for not having acknowledged this much earlier.”

   What?

   Zhongli cleared his throat. “Hansi, please listen to me. While you are under my roof, I will never lift a finger to cause you any harm, physically or otherwise. And for as long as you are a part of my household, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are never again touched by hunger, frost, hardship. That you will never be subject to the kind of fear that’s making you tremble,” he reached out slowly and took your hand, “like this.” 

   He had done all the speaking, but it was you who had lost the breath from your lungs. Each of his words was a low rumble, earthquakes in their own right. You didn’t know if you believed him, but you so badly, badly wanted to, with every inch of your shaking body.

   “I do not expect you to believe me, right now,” he said, as though reading your mind. He let go of your hand, and it fell back to your side, still shaking. “However, you will soon come to learn that I never break my word.”

   You were beginning to see why Rex Lapis had chosen to grace this man with a Vision. He commanded — no, demanded — your attention, your respect, your trust, your entire being. There was more to him than the rich, lonely nobleman he seemed to be; in that moment, you had never been more sure of it.

   “Is there anything else you would like to ask me, Hansi?” Zhongli asked.

   You shook your head, mutely. There were a lot of things you wanted to say to that, but the swollen words stuck in your throat. “Thank you, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, and hoped he heard everything behind it. 

  Tomorrow morning, you supposed, it’d be alright if you had that bath.

#zhongli #zhongli fanfic #Zhongli fanfiction #Zhongli genshin #genshin #genshin fanfic #Zhongli x reader #fragile as dust #anqi writes #my writing #this is solidly toeing the boundaries of self indulgence/projection #but I hope y'all like it anyway ;;

[tantei-chan-4869]

Chapter 2: Shinichi is Back?!?

Last Chapter..........

"You must've have guessed. Of course, for a brilliant detective like you, I have nowhere to hide. Yes. It is I, the Moonlight Phantom. Kaitou KID." Slowly, a smug begin to form on his face as he put his poker face on. "Looks like we'll have a lot to talk about tonight~" he said seductively as he slowly approached the unguarded detective. She slowly backed away, her heart beating wildly. She was fearful. What does he wanted do to her?

As his steps echoed closer, Shinichi shut her eyes in despair. "Help me..... someone. Anyone. Help me....."

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Suddenly, the panicked detective felt something cold and metallic against her forehead. Immediately, her face paled from nervousness.

"Oh? Who would've thought the detective who had fired a bullet on me a year ago would've been in the same situation." Kaito's voice can be heard, very close in her ear as Shinichi stood frozen in fear. Is this it? Must her life as Shinichi be so short?

With the sound of trigger being heard echoing across the empty alleyway, signaling that the gun had been fired. Shinichi strangely didn't feel any pain. Strange, she thought. The death must've been quite an easy one. But by the time she opened her eyes, she was perfectly fine. Alive and well. No blood gushing out of her forehead and was staring into the indigo eyes of a certain thief.

The detective gasped and immediately was alert and on guard. However Kaito was quite pleased with himself.

"I wasn't going to do anything to you. You seemed to have forgotten my rule that no blood shall be shed when I'm around Meiantei. Never think you'd be so freaked out like that. Quite amusing to mess with you~"

Shinichi glared daggers into Kaito's eyes as he whistles while twirling his card gun around his finger. Frustrated, the detective turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Kaito behind to catch up.

"Oi, oi Meiantei! Matte yo! (Wait up!)" Kaito called as he ran after her. "Hey, I'm sorry for pranking you like that. It's not everyday you hear the news that the kid you deal with on your heists is actually a high school detective." He chuckled. "I mean, I had guesses that you're not someone ordinary but this was too much, even for KID himself. So, will you forgive me my dearest Tantei-chan?"

But Shinichi's mind was not on Kaito at all. She was afraid that someone from BO was hiding in the dark who happened to hear everything and someday they'll rebuilt and hunt her down again. She vividly remember how her childhood best friend Mouri Ran almost died because of a mortal bullet wound to the stomach. She didn't want anymore innocent people lose their lives for her. Not even KID the master of escape himself.

"Earth to Shin-chan, are you here?" Kaito asked with a cute headtilt as he tried to get her attention. Shinichi was quite annoyed at this point. She stopped abruptly, whipped around and scolded Kaito.

"Go home. It's quite late. Besides, what's a thief doing with a detective so late at night like this? And we're both a guy and a girl. Do you think it's normal for someone to still be friendly after they found out the person had been their rivals the entire time? I don't think so! I regretted meeting you in the park. In fact, I wish I never ran into you in the first place!"

The last of the sentence was shouted out. Each words she said was a dagger being driven into Kaito's heart, wounding him. Sure. He could shrug it off with his poker face, but he would rather not do that in front of his favorite critique. He only listened with silence as his Meiantei lets out her anger on him. Shinichi however, was displeased. "Don't just stand there. Say something for yourself Kuroba Kaito. Why do you steal? Why do you live under the alias 'Kaitou KID'? What are you trying to hide?"

"When I was young...." Kaito hesitated but decided to continue. "My dad died in an accident while performing magic. I always thought his death was not normal, so I decided to look into it. Let's just say..... He was involved with a group of shady men. They were trying to find this jewel called 'Pandora'. It's said to be able to grant anyone's wish for immortality. My dad didn't want that to happen so he took up the job of stealing, hoping to find the jewel before them and to destroy it before they found it. Apparently, the men found out my dad's identity and..... Murdered him. However, I still believe that my dad is still alive. And..... I want to complete what he started. So yeah. Basically why I took up stealing."

There was a hint of sadness in Kaito's voice, as Shinichi noticed. For a minute, she didn't know what to say. The feeling of having to keep 2 identities was too similar and painful to not acknowledge. For a minute, she felt bad for Kaito.

" I...... I'm sorry Kuroba- I mean, Kaito." She apologized. " I just want to let you know, I understand and I'm here for you. Now I understand you're now really stealing. Sorry for misunderstanding you..... "

Kaito only gave the detective a wry smile. "I'm used to being misunderstood. It's nothing new for me. However, like you said, it is getting quite late. I should probably head home anyways. See you next illusion Meiantei."

He turned and was about to go until Shinichi's voice stopped him. "I- I mean, you can stay over for the night if..... If you want. It's not safe to walk alone on the streets so late like this anyways....."

The said thief looked back to see a quite flustered Shinichi offering him hospitality while trying not to sound too awkward. He had to smile, seeing his favorite detective in such a situation. It's quite cute, he thought to himself.

"Are you sure? Who said a guy and a girl can't be alone together? Definitely not me~" he teased while walking back to her. Which flustered the poor detective more as she blushed pink. "You don't have to take up the offer if you're not interested." She pouted as she proceeded to head over to her house's direction. Kaito only grinned as he followed after her.

Once inside the manor, Kaito couldn't help but marvel how big the place was. He whistled as to see how many compartments this house had. "You've been living in here growing up? Sheesh, your parents are filthy rich Shin-chan." He commented as he stood in front of a framed artwork to examine it.

"Eh, it's nothing if your mom is a popular retired actress and your dad is a world renowned novel writer." Shinichi shrugged as she proceeded to hang up her jacket, glove, and scarf on the hanger at the entrance of the house. "Can I get you something? I'm guessing you want both something to eat and something to drink?" She asked as she proceeded into the kitchen. "Just a heads-up, I don't cook a lot. My childhood best friend comes over and cook once in a while for me. But my cooking isn't good so bear with me." She explained as she tied an apron around her waist only for it to be untied by Kaito.

"Oi what are you-" Shinichi was about to protest until Kaito shushed her. "Let me handle it. I usually live alone and I've had to learn to cook quite a few dishes by myself. Don't worry, won't burn your house down if that's what you're worried about." Kaito winked at her, earning a flustered stutter from her.

"No I'm not worried about that- it's just- well, I can't make a guest cook-" She chased after Kaito, trying to get the apron back from him. But Kaito only dodged her.

"Aw, and here I thought you were going to worry about me. How cruel are you Meiantei~ my heart is in pain~~" Kaito teased her in a playful manner. Poor Shinichi was quite red at this point to the point where she seemed like she was going to pass out. Laughing, Kaito was quite pleased with his doing before he waltzed around the room getting ingredients out.

Soon, the Kudo manor was filled with the delicious aroma of something cooking. Shinichi, who was reading a Sherlock Holmes book in the library sniffed the air and immediately felt drolls in her mouth. The female detective followed the smell into the kitchen to see a beaming Kaito coming towards her with plates of food in his hands. Shinichi was quite impressed. "W-we had that many food materials in the house-?" Her gaze followed the plate of food as Kaito moved about the room setting the table.

"Of course. You had quite a lot of left overs that can be made into a table of feast. It's just up to your creativity." Kaito hummed as he set some utensils on the table. "Well, don't just stand over there Tantei-chan." Kaito waved. "Come and have a taste!"

The two enjoyed a quite filling meal. After Kaito had cleared take, Shinichi pushed back her chair quite contently. Kaito only sat across from her with a triumphant smug. The detective only rolled her eyes playfully at him before smiling. His cooking had definitely captured her stomach.

"So, what now?" Kaito asked as he folded his hands together. Shinichi noticed how slender and well-cared for they looked. "Well, I suppose perhaps I should help you on your heists." Shinichi replied as she looked at her nails rather casually while waiting to get a reaction from him.

True to her prediction, Kaito almost fell off of the chair he was sitting on. "Seriously? Meiantei is going to help me-?" He asked in disbelief as he tried to process what Shinichi was telling him.

"Yep." She replied simply. "Your dad was somewhat of a sensei to my mom who taught her how to disguise. So in a way, my family owe you one."

Kaito gave Shinichi a genuine smile. He never thought that this day would come. Who knows your rival would suddenly just stop being your rival and actually side with you?

Shinichi, had a knowing look as she stared at Kaito's idioticly hopeful face, decided to wake him up from his daydreams. "However, we'll still be somewhat of a rival." She smiled mysteriously as Kaito pouted.

"B-but why?" Kaito whined. The smug high school detective mused at how cute he looked. "Well, it wouldn't be fun for me if I can't triumphantly take you down myself, would it?" She smirked. "Isn't it your job to entertain your audience, Mr. Magician?"

Kaito huffed and pouted. Shinichi only laughed it off. "I'm off to bed. You can sleep in my parents' room if you want. I got you a pair of my dad's sleeping wear ready and laid on the bed for you." Then she paused and turned to look at Kaito dead in the eyes. "Do. Not. Try. Anything. Funny. While. I'm. Sleeping. Do you understand?"

The said magician just raised up his hands in surrender. "Never planned to do anything anyways. Please Tantei-chan, I'm not that perverted to the point of not having any self respect. Unless...... " Then, Kaito lowered his voice into a quite deep and seductive tone. "You want me to snuggle next to you while you're asleep~"

"Ew you pervert!" Came Shinichi's flustered voice followed by a slipper flying to his way, to which Kaito easily dodged. He laughed at how easily she reacted to his playful jokes and went to get ready for the night.

Early the next morning, a loud and rapid rapping could be heard outside of the Kudo manor followed by a voice that Shinichi couldn't be more familiar with. "Shinichi! Shinichi are you back? I'm coming in!"

"Hang on I'm coming!" The high school detective jumped out of bed with a messy bedhead rushed to the door, almost knocking over a very confused Kaito who was also not very pleased about his morning sleep being interrupted. He followed Shinichi to the front door to see her childhood best friend Mouri Ran, who was, staring daggers into Kaito's soul as he came face to face with the karate champion.

"Yo, good morning." Kaito yawned and waved.

"Kudo Shinichi, could you explain the meaning of this-?" Ran growled through his gritted teeth.

"Oh crap-" came Shinichi's reply. She's as good as dead.

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Author's Note.........

Oh no! What will happen to Shin-chan!? Sounds like a love triangle/secret crushes compilation! I hope you guys stick around long enough to find out because cliffhangers will be a thing in my fan fics 👀

#kuroba kaito #female au kudo shinichi #kudo shinichi #dcmk #kaishin #kaishin fanfiction #anime #detective conan #detective conan alternate universe

[amazingmsme]

Dandelions Don’t Die

AN: It’s finally here! The much anticipated(on my part at least) vampire!jaskier fic! Buckle the fuck in cause it’s a whopper, I really wanted to make this all one fic, so it stands at 12,714 words! Wowza, I think this is the longest oneshot I’ve ever posted! Too long for me to read through & no beta, I apologize if there’s any mistakes

WARNINGS: Jaskier’s a vampire, so there’s a few mentions of blood if that sort of thing upsets you. He also kills a deer, but that’s over fairly quickly so you can skip over that if you need to.

As much as Jaskier wished it could last, he knew it couldn't. It would have to end eventually, with Geralt and Jaskier going their separate ways. He only wished it had ended on better terms. Instead they split at the mountainside, with harsh words thrown in his face. It hurt more than he ever thought it could. He had traveled back down the trail at a slow pace, matching his somber mind. He felt many things, more than he had in a long time. Anger, hurt, jealousy, guilt and sadness all swirled like a whirlpool in his head, turning his brain into a sloshing liquid that splashed against his skull with each step he took.

He needed to take his anger out on something, anything. He knew he could not feed on humans. Not only would he feel immensely bad about it, but it wouldn't be long until word spread of a vampire lurking about. And where a monster was, a certain witcher was bound to show up eventually. So he journeyed into the woods in search of an unfortunate creature.

Hunting always helped to clear his head. It had been hard to do on his travels with Geralt. He always had to find a way to slink off while the other man was busy and clean himself up before he noticed his companion was missing. At least he wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. His chest ached at the thought.

Well Geralt would finally have what he wanted. To be alone. Truly alone, with only his horse to keep him company. As he thought about it, he began to miss Roach. He hadn't only grown fond of the brooding man, but his horse as well. Fuck, these next few years were going to suck. If he was lucky, he would be over this by the end of the decade. He hadn't been this down since he had first been turned. For 50 years he hasn't felt a steady beat in his chest, only the odd slow thump every five seconds or so. A stagnant muscle sitting in his chest just trying to resemble some semblance of normalcy.

He waited in the bushes, consumed by his misery. A twig snapped and he jerked his head up. He hoped beyond hope that Geralt had come to apologize, to take him up on his offer of escape, to invite him on his journeys. Instead he saw a buck enter the clearing before him. He licked his lips. He could smell the enticing scent of the deer's blood. It had been forever since he had had a real meal. He continued to eat human food to keep up appearances, but it did nothing to satisfy his hunger. It still tasted wonderful and he enjoyed the comfort, but his stomach and veins remained empty, longing for something more.

He pounced, and the poor animal didn't stand a chance. He let out a hum of relief as his teeth pierced through the pelt and flesh, sinking into the jugular. He sucked, not wanting to waste a drop. He felt himself grow stronger with each gulp. The blood was warm and thick, like syrup fresh from a tree. The satisfying tang of iron coated his mouth as he finished his feast. He wiped the remaining blood from his lips and continued on his way. To where, he did not know.

He wandered aimlessly from kingdom to kingdom, town to town. He was in every sense a lost soul. His songs were no longer jaunty tunes to sing along with, but emotional ballads that made the heart weep. People started to forget the bright eyed bard who sang the tales of the white wolf. He would hear others play them in taverns across the land, and it would always bring about a sad smile on his face. Those songs were popular, and good if he did say so himself. But they made him yearn for what once was. He couldn't have that anymore.

He heard whispers asking whatever happened to Jaskier, the bard who nobly followed Geralt of Rivia wherever he went. He sat alone in a booth, overhearing such a conversation. He himself wondered the same thing.

Everyone must die eventually, he thought to himself. He needed a fresh start, one not tied down to the ghosts of his past. It was commonplace for vampires to assume a new identity and create a fake death for their old persona. Now would be the perfect opportunity to plant the seed for his new life. He spoke up without turning to look at them.

"He died." There was a brief silence before they spoke up.

"Oh... that's a shame, he seemed like a good man. Talented too," the man in the booth behind him said. The woman at his arm chided in, "I suppose one of his journeys with the witcher didn't turn out so well."

"We'll never know I guess. At least the music will live on."

And with that, Jaskier was dead.

Word travels fast through a town, and faster by horse. It wouldn't be too long before Geralt would hear the news. Good, he wouldn't have to worry about running into him. What a mess that would be. He couldn't decide if it was bad that he hoped the man felt guilty. Make him feel as lousy as he does. He was always a little petty, and he saw no reason to change that.

He went by Amarant now. What can he say, he liked flowers. He still liked Jaskier much better, but he knew he would have to give up the name eventually. Perhaps in a hundred years or so he could take it up again. Surely Geralt will have forgotten him by then. If only he could be so lucky.

He still needed to change his appearance somehow. He had become slightly well known as the White Wolf's bard, and he didn't want to risk anyone recognizing him. The funny thing about vampires is that their appearance doesn't change... except for hair.

He really did have lovely hair. Thick and shiny and looking good in whatever style he chose. He decided to grow it out. Shoulder length was his limit, and he preferred to keep it slicked back away from his face, giving it a natural wind blown look. He also grew out some facial hair, keeping it well shaped into a handsome mustache and goatee.

He never stayed in one place for too long, always needing to find some way to fill the emptiness he felt inside, but never finding it. He enjoyed many nights with many strangers. And if most of them tended to be blonde and large in stature, well, he never mentioned it.

Amarant was making a name for himself as quite the hopeless romantic. He sang songs for the heartbroken, and lovers serenaded each other with his ballads. Even his peppier jaunts held a sad tale. He was currently between travels, resting in a poppy field as he wrote his newest song. The familiar weight of the lute sat against his chest as he strummed.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man of such beauty He wandered from place to place. In search of life and fulfillment But nothing could replace his lovers embrace.

Ooo he had a secret. His face was fair. He only travels by night and escapes from his lair.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so empty, The life faded out long ago. What a sad and weary soul Who will never grow old.

Ooo he's lost in the night. And he hides from the light, of the day. And if they knew what he was, they'd all turn away.

He liked it so far. The chords sounded right and the lyrics came from the heart. Those were his best ones. His quill dragged along the parchment in his journal, leaving black ink in spiraling letters. He continued.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so heartless. 'Twas ripped from his chest With hatred and scorn And now owns a barren breast.

Ooo a lost love can kill you With heartbreak and blade. Because a steak through the heart can kill any maid.

She was as lovely as ever, Skin pale as snow, and red lips of blood, She stole him away. A bleeding heart left to drain.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so broken, Who just went through the motions, of a pointless life.

Ooo he was doomed for infinity. Until someone sets him free, He will rest in a coffin bed.

A dead bard sings no songs. Dead men tell no tales, And dead witches can't cast spells.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so hollow. So desperate for love, he would follow. Tailing behind until the end of time.

He finished the ballad with a soft series of strums. It was short, but good. The song was just as much about him as it was about Geralt. He just hoped that people wouldn't tire of his melancholy tunes. Of course he would take requests for songs and wouldn't mind singing ones other bards had written. Wherever he went, he still received requests for the songs of the great witcher's travels. And he would sing them as his heart ached, remembering a better time.

~~~~

He wasn't the only one who longed for the comfort of the past. About two and a half years into his travels with Ciri, he heard word of Jaskier's death. They were having a quick meal in a tavern, and Geralt nursed his mug of ale, idly listening to whatever Ciri was rambling about, but not giving it too much thought. He was tired after killing the silkie that had been drowning children in the nearby river and let his mind wander.

His enhanced hearing was able to pick up a conversation from a nearby table. They seemed to be talking about the bard stood in the corner. He was singing Her Sweet Kiss. Geralt couldn't help but note that Jaskier was much more talented. Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"He's butchering this song," the man said, staring at the musician with distaste. His friend nodded along.

"I know. Poor Jaskier's probably rolling in his grave."

That definitely caught his attention and his head whipped around to look. Ciri's brows furrowed with concern.

"Geralt are you-"

"Shh." He held his hand up to silence her as he listened more intently.

"It should be illegal to sing a deadman's song unless you can actually sing it."

"Cheers," the man agreed and clinked their glasses together. Geralt stood and made his way to their table. Ciri, not knowing where the situation was heading followed, ready to deescalate if need be.

"Sorry for for intruding but I couldn't help overhearing what you said about the bard, Jaskier." The men didn't seem to mind very much about his sudden appearance.

"Yeah, it's a real shame too. One of the most talented bards I've seen in my day." He looked Geralt up and down, as though just now taking him in. "Hold on a minute, you're that Witcher he was always singing about! Thought you'd be the first to know, seeing as well, y'know..." he trailed off, taking a drink from his glass.

"Mm. We parted ways some time ago. I hadn't seen him sense. Now I know why," he said gruffly. The two men shifted awkwardly, remorse clearly written on their faces.

"Well gee, I'm sorry you had to hear it from us."

"Hmm," he grunted, ready to turn away. Ciri stepped forward, asking, "How did he die?" Geralt shot her a warning look. One that she did not heed.

The first man shrugged, "Wish I could say, but no one knows. Not even sure if there's a grave."

"If there's no grave, is there a chance he could still be alive?" she asked.

"Ciri," Geralt's patience was wearing thin. With the news he just received, he was in a sour and rotten mood and just wanted to drink himself unconscious.

The other man tilted his head in thought, "I suppose so. Been hearing rumors of a traveling bard who looks strikingly similar. Apparently he sounds like him too. His songs aren't as upbeat though. More melancholy." Geralt nodded in thanks with another grunt, and grabbed Ciri to lead her back to their table.

He was even more silent than usual. Ciri began awkwardly, "I'm sorry about your friend." He didn't look at her. "Why did you two split up?" she asked, ever so curious.

"We had a fight, and I said things I shouldn't have." He stared into his empty pitcher, mind completely lost. He didn't know what to think or to feel. He needed to be numb. He waved at the bartender for another pint and nodded gratefully once he brought it to him.

"I'm sorry, I know how awful it can be when you're left on bad terms with someone close to you."

"Mmm."

"But I'm sure that despite whatever you said, he knew you still cared for him," she tried to comfort him.

"That's the thing," he said, tracing the grain of the table. "I don't think he did." He threw his head back, taking large gulps of the bitter liquid. He relished in the slight burn down his throat as his stomach began to feel warm. Ciri offered a sad smile and squeezed his hand from across the table. By the end of their meal, Geralt could barely walk straight, and Ciri had to hold him upright on their way to the inn they were currently residing.

~~~~

Amarant couldn't take it anymore. Constantly being on the road was too painful of a reminder of what he lost. Traveling was lonely, and he was not meant to be alone. Clearly that was more suiting for Geralt, seeing as how he made it clear how unwanted his company was. His feet were constantly sore, and he wanted nothing more than to find a place to settle down. Wherever it was needed to be remote. A place where he could still perform for people, but also have a decent meal without stirring suspicion of a vampire in the area. There had been too many close calls, a cow here, two or three sheep there, all drained of blood leaving angry farmers. He tried not to make a habit of feeding on livestock, but there were times when he was desperate and starving. And there were many nights spent with beautiful strangers that were all too tempting. The hot and fresh scent of blood hanging in the air after sex. He knew their veins were full; he could feel their pulse against his skin. The flush on their cheeks made them look as delicious as the ripest apple, just waiting for him to sink his teeth into it. But he always resisted the temptation.

Even after everything, he still felt the call of the sea. Everything about it just seemed so appealing. The seclusion, the serenity, the sirens... it was exactly what he needed. But traveling that far on foot would take ages. He needed a horse. He was a day out from the nearest town, he supposed he could start over and be there by noon tomorrow. He had enough coin saved up from playing to buy himself a descent mare.

He watched the sun's light fade out through the branches in the forest and decided to set up camp for now. He was still full from the badger he had drank from earlier, so he focused on building a fire.

It was funny: there were many things about vampires that he discovered were false, and others that held true. Sunlight: not a problem. Sure he'd grow a little more pink than normal if he stayed out too long, but that's what sleeves and hats were for. He could still see his reflection, thank the gods for that. He doesn't think he could live forever without seeing his own pretty face. Silver didn't burn all too badly, in fact the pain was almost nice. A satisfying sting that dug into his skin and left a small welt.

Then there were the things that were completely true. Garlic was awful. Vampires had an enhanced sense of smell and the potency of the vegetable damaged the sensitive nerves, and if it were to be consumed, it would act as a poison. So basically, he was allergic. Oh well he was never a big fan of it anyway. Vampires and werewolves really did hate each other. Enough said. Gods he hated those snarling fucks. He hasn't aged a day since his turning, and his skin grew paler. He definitely felt more lively at night, and his canines were sharper that the average human's. Despite all of this, no one has suspected him of being a vampire, to the best of his knowledge.

By now the sun had set, and the remaining orange of the sun's fleeting light melted into the purple of dusk. Between the leaves above him he watched as stars danced into view. The warmth of the fire kissed his chilled skin as he let his thoughts wonder. And just as always, his mind immediately went to Geralt.

They had just finished setting up camp for the night. Geralt had gotten a few deep gashes from the minotaur he had finished slaying, and sat silently as Jaskier patched him up. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to Jaskier's chastising words.

"You know bard, I would much prefer your singing than scolding right now."

Jaskier scoffed, "Oh would you now? That's a first." He held the needle in his hand close to the fire to sterilize it some before sewing the wounds shut. "Any requests?" he asked, his tongue poking out between his lips as he focused on threading the needle.

"Hmm. Maybe a new one?" he asked, watching as he brought the tool closer to his skin. Jaskier chuckled at that.

"Ohoho that's rich. Normally when I try to compose a new song you tell me to shut it."

"I'm not right now," Geralt stated. That made Jaskier pause in his movements, looking up to meet his eyes. They were still black from the potions having not wore off quite yet. He swallowed thickly.

"Right. Well then, I can, uh, come up with a new one," he said. He was still looking into his pitch dark eyes, feeling himself get lost. He was pulled back out when Geralt grunted and asked, "What?"

Jaskier cleared his throat. "Nothing. It's just that, ah, your eyes look very nice right now," he admitted with a hint of a smile. Geralt tilted his head, a frown etching it's way onto his face.

"What?"

"Yeah, I can see my reflection perfectly. They've never looked more lovely," he recovered. When Geralt let out a snort of amusement, he let out an internal sigh of relief. He couldn't let himself slip up like that again. As he continued stitching him up, he started singing about his latest battle.

Geralt closed his eyes, listening to his voice raise through the air over the crackling of the fire. The dim glow illuminated his features and cast shadows under his jaw. Jaskier didn't dare let his gaze linger for too long.

"There, all better!" he chirped, standing up to stretch. Geralt examined the fresh scar stretching across his chest before he laid down in the soft grass.

"Look at the stars," he said. Jaskier tilted his head up to do so, letting out a soft gasp. They were absolutely beautiful. He had never seen so many of them, all twinkling and dazzling in the night. The sky itself was a swirling array of colors, full of royal blues and purples with a touch of light blue and green. "Come. Lay down, you deserve to rest." He did as he said, laying next to him. They simply laid there, looking up at the sky, content in saying nothing.

It was Jaskier who broke the silence. "Y'know, one day I bet you'll have a constellation up there." Geralt raised his eyebrows with a hum.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, all the greatest heroes and legends end up there eventually. And with all the monsters you've slain, there's no doubt in my mind you'll join them," he said honestly. Geralt was quiet, not knowing what to say to that. Another bout of silence had fallen over the two. This time, it was Geralt who interrupted the quiet, surprisingly.

"Have you ever considered making a song about the stars?" he asked.

"Uhh, no not really," Jaskier admitted. "But now I think I might."

Geralt turned to look at him, tearing his gaze away from the universe. "I'd like to hear it when you do." Jaskier's lips upturned into a breathless smile.

"Alright."

Amarant wiped away his tears at the memory. He reached for his lute, and began his star song. He let all of his emotions surge forth in a beautiful melody. A rustle from the brush startled him, and his hand stilled. His enhanced vision allowed him to peer into the dark, and he scanned for the source of the noise. He could barely make out the outline of a dark horse and relaxed. He went back to his singing, and the creature wandered closer. He smiled as he played, seeing as it enjoyed his music. He sucked in a sharp breath upon seeing it step into the light.

She was tall and stout, with a shining black coat that glistened in the firelight. Her mane was long and wavy, and her tail draped to the floor, looking as soft as spun silk. But what really drew his eye was the grayish blue horn atop her head that held a pearlescent glow.

His knowledge of unicorns was limited, but he knew they could be dangerous if spooked. They were incredibly loyal creatures once they formed a bond, but the chance of ever seeing one in person was incredibly low. He supposed they acted like a normal horse personality wise, but that was just speculation. He slowly set his lute on the ground. The unicorn tossed her head with a small whiny, pawing the ground with her hoof. He held his hands out in front of him in a cautious gesture.

"Easy girl." His footing was careful, bringing him closer to the beautiful creature while still keeping a respectable distance. "My aren't you gorgeous," he said in awe. She hesitated before closing the distance between them. He let out a breathy laugh of disbelief and brought his hand up to pet her head. "I-I can't believe this... What on earth did I do to possibly deserve being graced with your presence, hm?" he questioned. He got no response. "Perhaps my life is finally getting back on track."

After petting her for another minute or two, she shoved past him not so gently and stood by the log he had been sitting on. His lute was propped against it, and she dipped her head down to inspect it. He nervously made his way over, neither wanting to scare her away or harm his beloved instrument, and carefully picked it up.

"Ah, so you like my tunes. Perhaps you'll stick around," he mused, and got a soft neigh in agreement. He couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. "Say, what's your name? An animal as lovely as you deserves to have a beautiful name. How about Ember?" he asked. She let out a snort in apparent disgust. "Ok so that's a no... "Galaktyka?" He could tell he was closer that time by her silence, but still not quite there. He tried different names, getting varying degrees of disscontempt. He thought about how he was playing his star song when she appeared, and he lit up. "Gwiazda?"

She threw her head back, whinnying with excitement that rubbed off on him. "Gwiazda it is!" He settled in for the night, feeling much better than he had earlier. He wasn't sure if she would still be around by morning, but regardless it will have been one of the greatest things to ever happen to him.

He awoke in the morning to the feeling of soft nibbling at the back of his neck. He began to stir, a few tired giggles slipping out at the tickly feeling. His eyes fluttered open and met a pair of large blue ones. Before he could let himself be startled, be remembered the previous night.

"Good morning beautiful girl!" he greeted happily. She gave soft snort in reply and tried to press their foreheads together, causing Amarant to duck to avoid her horn. He chuckled and stroked the side of her head before standing up. "I don't suppose you plan on sticking around," he joked as he packed up his camp. There weren't many things to gather, so he was done rather quickly. He gave her one last pat before he went on his way. To his surprise, he wasn't alone.

"I'm just going to warn you now, I don't know what will happen if townspeople see you, but I can't imagine it would be good. And it's not like I can put a hat on you," he wondered aloud. She nipped at his sleeve to get his attention, and he watched in amazement as the horn vanished before his eyes. "Huh, problem solved. Now if you're going to come with me to the coast, which let's face it, you probably are, am I right? I'll need to buy a saddle and some feed. You're not too picky for plain oats, right?" The rest on the journey to the town was filled with more one sided conversations just like this. As was the rest of the journey to the sea.

~~~~

After about two weeks, they made it to the coast. Amarant sat atop Gwiazda as the vast expanse of blue stretched over the horizon. For the first time in forever it seems, things felt right. He leaned forward and patted her neck before pressing onward. Together they moved down the rocky cliff towards the shore until they reached the sand. The fine earth shifted beneath her heavy hooves, kicking up slightly with each step.

He took a deep breath through his nose, enjoying all of the fresh and earthy scents. Salt and dead fish mixed together to create an unpleasantly pleasant smell. The kind where you commented on how bad it is, only to take another whiff. He wondered to himself if he would enjoy fish blood as much as he enjoyed seafood. The tide pools were teeming with life, which would allow him to be able to feed whenever he needed. He would no longer have to worry about townsfolk catching him with their livestock.

Amarant dismounted Gwiazda, standing beside her as he took off his boots. He dug his feet a little into the sand, enjoying the feeling. It was soft and comforting. They walked closer to the water, watching the waves crash along the shore. Amarant purposefully walked so that his feet were in the water. The cool sea washed over his feet, sometimes up to his ankles, before retreating. The frothy foam barely had time to absorb into the sand before another wave brought forth more.

Ahead of him he spotted a cave at the bottom of a cliff, far enough away from the shore that it would remain dry during high tide. "I think we found our new home, girl," he said, patting her side. She tossed her head with a small neigh in agreement. After settling in and unloading his belonging into the cave, they went out to watch the setting sun. Amarant found a tide pool close by and sat on the edge. He kicked his feet gently in the water, dipping a hand in every once in a while and skimmed the top with his fingers. He watched the small ripples trailing after his hand, disturbing the peace.

Gwiazda was laying on the beach next to him, rolling in the sand. She was obviously enjoying herself as well. He watched as the fading light glistened on the water, spotting something in the distance. In a flash, it disappeared, followed by a splash. Who knows what it was, the ocean was full of creatures, and even more monsters. The sun was now resting on the horizon, beginning its journey to the unseen. Darkness would soon be upon them. That was when it was safest to hunt, and he was so very hungry.

A sudden voice startled him.

"You can't stay here." He jumped, turning to look at the owner of those words.

"Why? Is someone else living in that cave?" he asked.

"Well no-" she started, and he cut her off

"Then I see no reason to leave."

"You really shouldn't be here you know. It's not safe for sweet little boys so close to sea," she purred, propping herself up on her elbows at the edge of the tide pool.

Amarant scoffed, "Oh yeah, and what are you? An expert?"

She tilted her head in amused annoyance. "Considering I live here, yes I am." She raised herself up and sat on the edge of the rocks, putting her long shimmering tail on display. He couldn't help but stare.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you? Staring's rude." Amarant quickly tore his gaze away from her scales, only to find he had to tear them away from her bare chest. Not daring to look anywhere else, he locked eyes with her.

"My apologies, it's just- well, it's very beautiful." She gave a genuine smile before turning it into something more sly. More sinister.

"Why thank you," she said, and scooted closer. "We sirens are known for our beauty. Everything about us from our scales to our voices is exquisite. It makes it easier to lure our prey." She leaned in, "Does it scare you?"

"No." He easily held her gaze as she snarled, her spines sticking out of her back quivered.

"Why not? Do you not think that I could pull you under the water and keep you there until you drown?"

Amarant smirked, "I know you can, and I've no doubt that you've done it many times. But I've met many monsters. If anything, it's you who should be scared." She let out a laugh.

"What could you possibly do to me? I didn't see you unpack any weapons, and a human could never overpower a siren." She took a moment to look him over. "Especially not one who looks so... soft." She stroked a hand across his cheek as she spoke. Amarant put his hand atop hers.

"What makes you so sure I'm human?" This caught her attention, a spark of intrigue flashed across her pupils.

"If you're not human, what are you?"

Amarant figured, what the hell, it's been a while since he had a good night of fun. Not to mention he's never slept with a siren, and he very much wanted to change that. He gripped her arms, tugging her towards him a little roughly, but still playful enough to be flirty. She let out a giggly gasp as he growled and bared his sharp teeth.

"Guess." She stared at him with wide eyes before pulling him in, lips crashing together in a heated kiss. He returned it with the same amount of passion, gently guiding her down until they were both laying.

That night they spent it on the sand underneath the stars. The cool breeze brushed against their heated skin. She had transformed after crawling out of the water, and their legs were tangled together as she laid her head on his chest. His hand traced idle patterns on her back as he hummed. She looked down at him, "You're a singer?"

"Yes, and a good one if I say so myself. And I do," he joked. "Though I'm sure it's nothing compared to you."

She smiled, "Yes well, you're only human," she teased.

"I'm Amarant by the way," he said.

"Aquaria."

He looked into her bright blue eyes, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Amarant hoped this would be the first of many nights. Thankfully it was. They didn't put a label on what they had. It was a relationship based on sex and the occasional friendly conversation. She had told him what it was like underneath the waves, the beautiful cities and sea life, the terrifying depths and monsters. In return, he told her about his travels and about the people on land. He even told her about Geralt, from their meeting up until their unfortunate departure. Aquaria offered sympathy and comfort. They made quite a few songs together, though there were some notes that he just couldn't hit. She was a good friend, and he enjoyed her company. Sadly, not everything lasts forever.

They were sitting on a rock in the cave, braiding Gwiazda's mane and tail. The seasons were beginning to change now. The leaves were warm vibrant colors instead of the lush green of summer, and they were starting to fall to the ground. Aquaria looked out of the cave's mouth with a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong love? You need me to fetch you a pail of water?" Amarant asked. Sometimes she got too tired or cranky when she was out of the water for too long. She shook her head.

"Thank you, but no I'm fine. It's just, I'm going to have to go soon," she said. Her voice was low, a sad weight clinging to her words.

"Oh." His face fell just the slightest. He knew all along that this would happen, but he wished it wasn't so soon.

"The water's getting cold, and me and my choir are are heading south for the time being. I'm not sure we'll be coming back." She looked over and him, and he quickly dried his eyes from the forming tears.

"Yes well, I hope you have fun, it sounds like it's going to be lovely." She reached out a hand to cup his face, forcing him to look at her. "Don't be sad, it was fun while it lasted. And besides, a vampire and siren could never make it work. Not really." He chuckled and met her eyes.

"Maybe not, but it made a damn good song."

"Indeed it did. One of my favorites."

"It also seems to be one of the town's favorites too." They shared a sweet, chaste kiss. When their lips parted, she asked, "Can we sing it one last time?"

"Of course," he answered.

"When a monster of the night Leaves his cozy cave. After the light of day Slowly fades away.

When a creature from the deep Rises from the sea. Up upon the sand Out of waves she creeps.

Ooooh his teeth graze her scales, She tries to pull him under. Under the waves, With her siren song.

He fights the growing urge To plunge his fangs into her flesh. So he stops short of his quest And pauses in his feast.

Upon the beach they lay Next to a dim cave. A deadly love Destined to kill.

Hurt by people And hurt by scorn. Hurt by witchers, Now they're left to mourn.

People love hard, But monsters love harder. You better hide darling, Before you become a martyr.

Hurt by people And hurt by scorn. Hurt by witchers, Now they're left to mourn.

Because monsters hate hard But people hate harder. You better hide darling, Before you become a martyr.

Hurt by people And hurt by scorn. Hurt by witchers, Now they're left to mourn.

A forbidden enchanted love Of magic and monsters. A beautiful siren And her charming vampire."

It was their song, meant for each other. It was all true: no matter how compassionate a monster or beast could be, the villagers always wanted them dead. But as soon as you put something to music, they all suddenly changed their tune.

"You need to go out more. Meet other people and share your music."

"I do that," Amarant most definitely didn't whine. She placed a comforting hand on his chest.

"I know, but you barely leave the cave. It's not good for you."

"Need I remind you that the sun hurts?" he raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes fondly and pinched his cheek.

"I don't see you complaining about it when we go swimming."

"That's because we're together," he said. Her smile turned a bit sad.

"I'm sure we'll meet again. It's a small world after all, and I doubt you'll die anytime soon," she teased.

"True. But I'll miss you all the same."

"And I'll miss you too." They kissed once more. When they broke away, she reached behind her back for her bag. She put it in his hands, and there was a substantial weight to it. When he moved his hands he could hear the soft jingle of clinking metal.

"I want you to take this. Buy yourself that lyre you were talking about." He opened the satchel and gasped. It was full of gold coin, some still covered it moss and wrapped in seaweed.

"H-how..." he trailed off.

"There's quite a few shipwrecks, and you'd be surprised at just how much coin gets lost at sea."

He looked at her, love and adoration clear in his eyes. "Thank you. Thank you so much," he wrapped her in a warm hug. "Every time I play it, I'll think of you."

"You better hurry before the shops close," she said. He hopped up, bag still in hand.

"Yes, of course. Gwiazda!" he called, and she trotted over. She mounted her in one swift easy motion. He held out his hand to help Aquaria up, but she remained where she sat. She gave him a look. "Oh," he said in realization. This was goodbye.

"We both know it'll be easier this way," she admitted. He nodded, knowing it to be true but not liking it anymore than she did.

"'Til we meet again," he said.

"Until then," she sighed heavily. She rose up, walking over to him. He leant down to share one final kiss. He rode out of the cave and into town, knowing exactly where he needed to go to buy the instrument. He was lucky that the small ocean side town had such a place.

He returned to an empty cave.

It was sadistically humorous, he thought, how everyone he had truly cared for left him in some way.

~~~~

Geralt was dealing with a lot of emotions. Emotions a witcher shouldn't have, yet he felt all the same. He truly was heartbroken at hearing of his bard's passing. Yet he didn't want to believe it. He was feeling incredibly guilty and angry at himself for driving Jaskier away. He made sure that he would not make the same mistake with Ciri. He saw much of Jaskier in her, funny enough. The two loved to talk, rambling on about anything that crossed their minds. They were bright and cheery, and their smile could light up a room. It was even able to warm his once cold heart.

Now he was angrier, less willing to engage in conversation with Ciri. She definitely picked up on it. He could smell it on her; the concern, the sadness, the fear for his well being. He kept assuring her he was fine, but the fact that he was doing so just proved he wasn't.

He worked more often now, taking fewer and shorter breaks between jobs. Ciri told him to slow down, to pace himself. He told her he knew what he was doing and didn't need to be mothered. She just scoffed and told him it wouldn't be the worst thing if was. She definitely reminded him of Jaskier, and it hurt.

They were on their way to their next hunt when Ciri spoke up. "When are you going to admit you're not okay?" she questioned. His head whipped around to look at her.

"I'm fine," he insisted through clenched teeth.

"You clearly aren't though! I know witchers aren't good with emotions, but I also know he was your friend. It's not healthy to keep it all in like this," she said.

"Well it's worked for me before. And it will pass. In time," he added.

"You know as well as I do that that's not good."

"Hm." And that was the last he'd say on the subject. Until she would inevitably bring it up again. However their attention was preoccupied as they approached the nest of sirens that had been bothering seemingly everyone in the nearby town. Singing at all hours of the night, letting no one rest, and drawing a few people away from their families and into the water where they drowned.

They both shoved cotton in their ears to be protected from their songs. Geralt could easily spot the signs that they had taken root in the river and readied his sword.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Witcher," came an unexpected noise from above. In the branches of a close tree, a siren laid wrapped in the entangled vines stretched across the limbs. Her large wings were spread out, basking in the sun the top of the canopy provided. "Me and my family have done nothing wrong."

Geralt slid his sword back into its hilt seeing that she was capable of reason. "The villagers seem to think otherwise." She had to laugh.

"Don't they always?"

"You've lured men and women down to the river to drown them," he deadpanned. She gasped in mock offense.

How rude to throw such accusations at me, I've done nothing of the sort!" There was a beat of silence in which Geralt looked extremely unamused. "Okay I can't say the same for the others, but it's what we're meant to do."

"What will it take to make you all leave without having to kill you?" he cut to the chase.

"Well I think just saying that will do the trick," she said, and both Geralt and Ciri could hear the tinge of fear in her voice. She flew back down to the water, propping her elbows on the bank. She rested her head in her hands, studying him. "You're Geralt, aren't you?" she asked. The questioned seemed to grab his attention.

"Yes. How did you know?" his voice was gruff one warning.

"I heard stories from a dear friend. He speaks quite fondly of you." She smirked to herself when she saw his entire frame stiffen as he took a step closer.

"What-" his voice was barely audible, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "What's his name?"

She studied him before deciding it was safe to talk. Amarant. Though it's not his true name, just what he chooses to go by," she explained. Geralt's heart leaped at the prospect of Jaskier still being alive.

"Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me." He bent down and shook her hand. "But you and your choir better find a new home before another witcher shows up and isn't as merciful," he warned. She nodded and swam off downstream.

Geralt and Ciri continued on their trek across the continent with a renewed vigor. Geralt began to talk a little more, and if you squinted hard enough it seemed as though there was the slightest pep in his step. He stopped acting rash and too bold on hunts, making more sensible moves and efficient kills. Just the faintest glimmer of hope had changed the man completely.

~~~~

Geralt wasn't the only one who had heard word of Jaskier's demise. Yennefer felt conflicted; while she was never close with the man and didn't particularly like him, she knew that he meant something to Geralt. And their bickering relationship full of teases and insults was a fun dynamic to play off of, and she was saddened to hear that he died so young. Humans were fragile beings and she would need to get used to hearing of the deaths of people she once knew.

She was gathering ingredients. Her inventory was growing low, and she needed to build up her stock. She had already been to the mountains and forests, gathering what she needed. Her tiresome journey had lead her to the coast. She would probably stay for a few more days to find what she needs and rest up in an inn.

She sat by herself at the tavern, enjoying her meal in peace. Music flowed through the room as people sang along with a bard in the corner, tossing their coin freely. She rolled her eyes, figuring it would be wiser for them to keep their money for their selves. Whoever was singing did sound good, she'd give them that, but people threw away their coin too easily. I mean, all they do is sing and pluck a few chords, it's not that hard. She tore off a piece of bread, popping it in her mouth to chew.

She finally raised her head, tearing her gaze away from her plate and scanned the room. People sat at tables, enjoying their meals while a crowd formed in front of a makeshift stage. She saw a flash of brown hair and blue eyes. She did a double take, squinting her eyes to peer above the crowd. A familiar lute sat in a chair near a corner, while the man swayed back and forth, strumming on a lyre. His song was sad and sweet, bringing a few patrons to tears. There was only one voice she knew that sounded like that.

Yennefer stood and worked her way through the people until she could see the man fully. Hair grown out to his shoulders, facial hair trimmed into a stylish goatee, and eyes as blue as the sky itself. He wore a flowing cream colored blouse with tights that hugged his body in all of the right places, and topped it all off with a purple hat. He looked different, but it was undoubtedly Jaskier.

He was singing a newer song, but one that she had heard all the same. People humming the tune from town to town, and a bard here or there performing it. She took her time to listen to the lyrics, and I mean really listen. Hearing each struck chord, processing the words and their meanings, watching his expression as he sang. She couldn't tell if the song was about himself or Geralt.

She saw him scan the small group, and it was easy for him to spot her. His nose scrunched you the slightest bit in disdain. She offered a small wave, and he nodded at her in acknowledgement, his hands too busy at the moment.

Towards the end of the song, he locked eyes with her, making sure she got the full brunt of his words as he belted, "A dead bard sings no songs. Dead men tell no tales, And dead witches can't cast spells." Okay, yeah, that one stung.

As he finished, everyone cheered, tossing their coin his way. He bowed, giving his thanks and blowing kisses to women and men alike. She called out trying to get his attention.

"Jaskier! Jaskier!"

His head immediately whipped around at the familiar name, knowing exactly who had said it. He feigned innocence.

"Yes, he was quite good. Perhaps one of the best in our time. This next song is dedicated to Jaskier!" The crowd practically roared their approval. He switched to his lute, putting the strap around his body. "How about O Gwiazda, eh? A star song for the man amongst the stars!"

Yennefer practically had to yell for her voice to be heard. "Why not one of his songs?" This seemed to be a popular idea as requests started flooding in.

He looked around nervously, tugging at his collar. "I-I'm sorry, I don't believe I can hit some of those notes," he started, only for her to interject.

"Nonsense! I think you'd sound just like him," she challenged. The smirk she wore could kill. Oh she was good.

Jaskier was quick though. "Now there's really no need to insult the dead," he joked, earning a few laughs. But as soon as she yelled the words "Fishmonger's Daughter," he knew he lost. Everyone joined her chant, asking him to play. Damnit, it was one of his most popular songs that no one could resist, not even himself. And so he performed. And he did so perfectly.

He weaved in and out of bodies as they all sang and clapped along. He sent a few winks, making a few ladies swoon. When he finished, he declared that he was parched and would take a break. He was lounging with a very giggly brunette when Yennefer approached him.

"Do you mind if I steal him for a second?" she asked. The girl raised a brow and looked her up and down.

"Depends. Do you plan on giving him back?"

"Yes," she assured. "I only wish to speak with him for a few minutes." The girl relented and let him go. She scooted off of his lap so he could stand.

"Don't worry love, I'll be back soon. She's just an old friend and we need to catch up."

"Don't leave me waiting too long," she said. He lead Yennefer outside of the door to make sure no one else was listening in on the conversation. As soon as the door closed, she started.

"You seem to have settled in quite nicely Jaskier," she said, putting emphasis on his name. He however, was persistent in his denial.

"That's not my name."

She tilted her head, "Oh? Then what is it?"

He rolled his eyes, "If you must know, I'm Amarant." He extended his hand for her to shake. "And you are?"

She looked down at his offered hand. "You already know." He chuckled, putting his arm down.

"I assure you I do not."

She sighed, figuring it would be easier to just play along. "Yennefer of Vengerberg."

"Ah yes! I've heard of you, and might I say that you are even more beautiful in person," he said with a flourish. He brought her delicate hand up to kiss it.

"Flattery will get you nowhere Jaskier."

"Look," he said, all charm leaving his voice. "I'm really not who you think I am. And I'm getting quite fed up with being mistaken for him. I'm my own person you know," he said pointedly.

"I would think you were too clever to believe I'd actually fall for that, yet here you continue to lie to my face," she stated. His mouth hung open a bit in shock.

"Okay what do you want you snake?" he hissed. She held her hands up in surrender.

"No need for names. I simply came here looking for ingredients, yet I found something better."

He glared at her, "I don't believe you."

"It's the truth," she said simply. There was a moment of silence before she continued. "Everyone thinks you're dead." Call him crazy, but he could swear he heard a touch of sadness in her voice.

"Good." He folded his arms over his chest, turning away. She touched his arm gently, prompting his to look at her.

"Why?" she asked. He scoffed.

"Must everything have a reason?" he pondered aloud. He turned to her fully. "I needed a fresh start," he said simply.

"I know there's more to it than that," she said.

"Oh there's lots more to it, but you have no right to be disclosed to that information!"

"I know it has something to do with Geralt."

He let out a high pitched, slightly manic laugh. "Oh do you now? Congratulations dear, you just scratched the surface!" He leaned in her face, making a show of clapping his hands in mock praise. "Do you want a medallion for your wit?"

She smacked his hands away, a small frown on her face.

"Not everything has to do with that boar headed idiot," he spat. She could tell she struck a nerve. His voice was full of hurt and hate, his eyes hardened, turning to ice, and his lips curled into a sneer.

"I know he hurt you," she said softly. He scoffed, "He did more than that. He broke my fucking heart."

Yennefer wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug that surprised the both of them. She whispered in his ear, "If it makes you feel better, you did the same."

He pulls away, shooting her a quizzical look. "I highly doubt that. He got his wish, he's rid of me. The bastard should be jumping for joy," he stated plainly. She gave him a look that he couldn't quite read.

"He's not."

Jaskier couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at his lips. He knew it was probably wrong for him to be happy about that, but he had to admit it felt good. "Nice to know." He pulled her away, holding her at arms length. "Well this little reunion was quite nice, but I have company to entertain. It was lovely to see you again, really, but please leave and don't bother me again. I made a new life for a reason." He started to leave, pausing in the doorway and looked back at her. "Oh, and don't tell Geralt about all this. The last thing I want is to dig up that mess of a past. It's already hard enough to forget about him as it is," he mumbled the last part to himself as the door shut. She was still able to hear however. And one thing was for certain: she was not planning on keeping this to herself.

She had no idea where he was, or when she'd see him again. But she knew that fate would bring the two of them together once more.

~~~~

Ciri had grown into a beautiful and powerful young lady under Geralt's protective wing. She had learned well and came into her full power. The lion cub of Cintra was now a strong lioness. Five years had passed since their brush with the mysterious siren, and that had been the last they had heard any word of Jaskier. Until chance to happened that they came across an old friend in the woods.

"Yen!" Ciri exclaimed upon seeing her, and rushed over to hug her.

"My, look how you've grown!" Yennefer said, looking her up and down. She beamed brightly.

Geralt was slower, more calm in his approach. "It's nice to see you again," he said as he dismounted Roach.

"I can say the same," she said as she walked over to him, greeting him with a warm embrace. They set up camp together, Ciri and Yennefer gathering firewood while Geralt hunted for their dinner. They had a nice meal of rabbit stew, and caught up while they ate. It was getting darker each minute as the sun slipped farther under the horizon. Ciri had gone to bed as Geralt and Yennefer continued to talk over the diminishing fire.

It was far into the night, ensuring the girl was asleep. Roach stood tied to a nearby tree, not giving them much thought as she too drifted off. An owl hooted overhead. She took a deep breath. There was no easy way to put this, but he needed to know.

"I saw Jaskier."

He froze, his cat like eyes bore into her, deciding if she was telling the truth. "What?"

"When I was gathering ingredients from the coast I stopped in Low View. I went to the tavern where I saw Jaskier performing, but he wasn't Jaskier," she explained. She could see the gears beginning to turn in his brain. Finally he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked.

"I didn't know where you were, and it wasn't the right time." She subtly nodded over to Ciri's calm form. He only hummed.

"Thank you for telling me," he said.

"What're you going to do?" she asked, already knowing his answer.

"Ciri and I leave for Low View first thing tomorrow."

~~~~

It had been three years since Yennefer had been in the tavern. Amarant had first been on edge constantly, always expecting Geralt to walk through the doors. As time passed, that anxiety diminished. Perhaps she would do as Jaskier wished and simply not tell, but he highly doubted that. Or maybe she just hasn't run into Geralt. Or maybe Geralt just straight up did not care. Gods, do not let it be the third option.

Logically, he knew it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. It was honestly inevitable, they had done it many times before and it always ended with Jaskier leaving with him, ready to compose some new songs for the White Wolf. Only this time it was different. Geralt didn't want him, and he certainly didn't like him, that much he made clear.

And still, despite his best interests, he hoped he would see him. Wished for it almost every day. To see that familiar face and hear his voice. Longing for what once was. And then he'd immediately turn back around, scolding himself for wanting such a thing. Reminding himself of the hurt he had brought on. Remembering the fact that he was a vampire, and if Geralt knew... He couldn't bring himself to picture such a thing. But he knew what would happen.

The door had been opening and closing all night with patrons coming and going. Amarant had already made a good bit of coin, and he was only really just getting started. He belted out into the small space, singing his heart out and laying his soul on the line.

He didn't know when exactly he felt a change in the air, but he couldn't deny the shift in energy. It didn't take him long until his eyes fell on Geralt. He'd know those broad shoulders and white hair anywhere. His gaze hardened into a glare from across the room. They made eye contact, and Jaskier could see the recognition on the other man's face. After all, facial hair could only do so much to change his appearance. Perfect timing too. He was in the middle of singing I Once Knew A Man, now aiming the song directly at him and adding a fierce bite to his words.

Geralt sighed and watched him, knowing Jaskier was not happy to see him. The song was undoubtedly a jab at him, and he could feel guilt boiling up from years passed. It had been quite a few years since their fight at the mountain top, and he had been kept busy with work and caring for Ciri. They had been on the road for years, and never once heard word of Jaskier. Sometimes he would forget, until they found themselves in yet another tavern with no sign of the joyous bard. He would hear a familiar tune that got his hopes up until he realized it wasn't him. Then the terrible guilt and grief of hearing of his friend's death. His only true friend. And he had ruined it.

And yet there he was, alive and well. He saw another instrument propped against a corner. He recalls Jaskier once mentioning wanting to play the lyre. Good for him. A decent crowd was formed around him, dancing and singing along. His skin seemed to glow under the candle light and he wore a blue shirt with a purple vest paired with a matching hat. His blue pants hugged him in all the right places, flattering his figure quite nicely. He had grown his hair out too, and Geralt had to admit it was a good look on him. His goatee was well kept and accentuated his jawline.

"Are you drooling?" Ciri asked from across the table, her nose scrunching slightly. Geralt immediately jerks his head away wipes at his mouth. When his hand remains dry he shoots the giggling princess a look of annoyance. "Well you might as well have!" she teased and he gently kicked her leg to tell her to stop. She just smiled and watched as Jaskier played. He continued straight into another song, this time a peppy love ballad. Geralt couldn't help the simmering jealousy bubbling in his gut.

Each time he got to the chorus, he glared directly at Geralt. Hurt by witchers... Geralt knew he had been cruel and unfair. He had every right to hate him, but he wished he wouldn't. At least, hate him less once he apologized. His medallion rest warm on his chest as it did every time Jaskier was near. His mouth formed beautiful words, his voice like silk slipping into the air. As he sang, Geralt could see the tips of his fangs peaking out from under his lips.

After some applause and the throwing of money, he rose up with a flourish.

"It seems like we have a special guest in the corner, everyone say hi! I think we should dedicate this next song to him, a little tune we all know and love!" Jaskier's eyes burned with mischief and anger. He knew Geralt hated attention more than just about anything. And Jaskier was nothing, if not petty.

"When a humble bard," he began walking forward as he started the song, and people cleared his path. He was walking straight to Geralt. The witcher kept his features neutral. "With Geralt of Rivia, along came this song."

Fuck.

As the first verse came, he took a sharp turn right before he reached their table and ducked into the crowd, making his way through the room.

"They came after me, with masterful deceit," he stood on a chair, one leg propped up on the back as he sang. "Broke down my lute and they kicked in my teeth!" In a swift graceful movement, he leaned forward and knocked the chair down, easily walking onto the ground. He continued to dance and pull people from their seats. He stopped in front of Ciri, making a show of inviting her to dance, which she eagerly accepted. The look on Geralt's face was priceless.

Of course Jaskier was up on the tables. Hopping from one to the other, taking his time to show off a bit. He had been waiting for this. He's a performer, and he wanted nothing more than to put on a show. The song was nearing its end, and he made his way to Geralt's table. He was there for the last verse. He stood above him while he sang, winking down at him. For a moment, Geralt thought things were good. That he would apologize and everything would go back to normal. But the smell of pent up rage, hurt and resentment told him otherwise.

"Toss a coin to your Witcher O Valley of Plenty, O Valley of Plenty, a-oh Toss a coin to your Witcher A friend of humanity," he finished off by kneeling down in front of Geralt. He made it a point to look in his eyes, to make sure he knew what he did and that he sure didn't need him.

Everyone cheered, and the sound of coin being thrown in the air rang out, clinging on the hard floor. Amarant wore a bitter yet smug smirk on his lips, "Hello Geralt." His chest heaved up and down as he tried to regain the oxygen in his lungs. Beads of sweat were sprinkled across his forehead. And despite the venom in his words, Geralt couldn't help the small quirk of his lips as he looked up at the angry bard.

"Hi Jaskier." His voice was breathier than he meant it to be, but could you blame him? He had thought him to be dead for years and here he was, in the flesh, a mere foot away.

"Sorry, there's no Jaskier here," he said flippantly. Geralt blinked.

"Jaskier I have eyes, you're right here," he softly argued. He didn't come all this way to be dismissed so easily.

"The name's Amarant now. Jaskier died on that mountain top as far as I'm concerned," he looked at him with unamused eyes, lips curling into a sneer ever so slightly. "If that's all you came for, I believe your business is done," he said, gesturing towards the door.

Geralt stared, dumbfounded. "I- Jaskier please, I-I'm sorry," he started. Jaskier cut him off with a cruel laugh.

"It's much too late for apologies now. I have a new life now, one not tied to your name. You have no idea how hard it is to forget someone when people are constantly asking you where they are." Geralt looked down at his lap, avoiding his gaze. Amarant tilted his head. "Then yet again, maybe you do."

He hoped off from the table and started to walk away only for Geralt to grab his hand. The touch was gentle but firm, and Amarant could feel just how much desperation was in that one motion. He turned back around, but withdrew his hand from his grip. Open to hear what he had to say, yet signaling that he owed him nothing and could leave at any time.

"Please Jaskier. Let me apologize," he pleaded.

Jaskier let out a heavy sigh, placing his hands on his hips. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ciri lingering in the diminishing crowd. She hung back, standing awkwardly, unsure if it was okay to approach them. He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes and gestured for her to come over. When she hesitated still, he gently guided her back to her seat.

"It's okay darling, Geralt and I are just going to have a little chat." He wore a soft and kind expression aimed at the girl. She gave a small timid grin, and Jaskier flashed her his charismatic smile to reassure her that everything was fine. Gods did Geralt miss that smile. It could light up even the dimmest rooms and melt the coldest of hearts... After all it had melted his. It had only taken about a week if that before Geralt grew to miss it. The bright flash of teeth after a performance, a sly quirk of his lips when flirting, his tongue poking out between his teeth when he thinks of something funny. It was all so dynamic, just like him. That smile was always something he could rely on. It was there when he woke up after sharing a night in the woods or at an inn, after a successful hunt, followed by a night of drinking and laughter. It was always waiting for him when their paths would meet once more on the road. And it was gone from Jaskier's face as soon as he turned to look at him.

It had been replaced with a truly unhappy look. A frown etched its way onto his face and his brows drew together. From the angle Geralt sat, he could see the glisten of held back tears.

"Jaskier I know I hurt you. Not just with my words but, physically too. I- I know I wasn't a good friend. I was afraid of growing close to someone, so I did what I could to try to distance myself, and in doing so, put you at risk more than once. I really am sorry for everything I said. Not just on the mountain, but before that too. You really are a fantastic bard and a truly good friend. I admit I took your company for granted, and being apart for so long gave me a lot of time to reflect on that."

Jaskier didn't know what to say or do or feel. For years he hated and missed Geralt, wanted nothing more than to slap him across the face before bringing him in for a kiss. He had never felt more torn as he listened to the man speak. This was probably the most words he'd ever heard him say.

Geralt scooted back in the booth, making room for him to sit. Amarant eyed the seat before sitting across from him with Ciri. He didn't know if he could trust himself to hold strong if he were so close to Geralt. If he was able to hear his slow heartbeat close to his ear and smell the sweat and grime that never seemed to wash completely off his skin and hair. So he kept his distance, folding his hands together as he watched him. Steely blue eyes bore into every inch of him. Geralt shifted under the intense gaze, knowing Jaskier had every right and reason to hate him still.

"I don't want to be without you Jaskier."

"You don't want me, you just don't want to be alone!" he argued. Geralt cut in before he had the chance to say anything else.

"At first I thought the same. I'd gotten used to traveling with a companion, and when I found Ciri I thought things would be the same. But they weren't. I still wanted you." Jaskier couldn't help but to snap his head up at hearing those words. For years he had wanted nothing more than to hear Geralt say that. He only allowed himself to be hopeful for a second before he remembered everything all over again and rage filled him once more.

"That's funny, I remember you wanting something completely different! I was such a burden, such a nuisance to you so I did what you asked me. I got the fuck out of your life Geralt of Rivia, and gave you your life's blessing." The witcher flinched at the use of his full name, feeling much like a scolded child. Ciri awkwardly picked at her plate, avoiding looking at either of them but still obviously listening.

"I looked for you, you know. After our fight, but every time I thought I found you, you were already gone."

"Yes well, that's what a traveling bard does. We travel," he deadpanned. Geralt rolled his eyes at the sarcasm.

"It seemed like you were purposefully avoiding me."

"Glad to know my efforts were acknowledged," he quipped with a sneer. Geralt stared at him with something akin to hurt on his face.

"You didn't have to fake your own death." Amarant looked away, mouth hanging open slightly as he thought of what to say. He tilted his head and glanced back at him.

"I have my own reasons, and believe it or not they don't always revolve around you. Now if you'll excuse me," he made to stand, brushing himself off before turning to the door. Geralt followed, and Ciri trailed after him. Amarant made sure to slam the door in his face, but he easily caught it before it could close. They walked out into the cool night, a gentle breeze blew Geralt's hair in his face. He didn't care enough to brush it away.

"Damnit stop following me! Do you have any idea how hard it is to try and forget you?" Jaskier yelled at him. Geralt took a cautious step forward, as if he were a wild animal that would spook if he moved too quickly.

"Then don't." Another step closer. "I really am sorry for everything Jaskier. Now, you don't have to forgive me. But please, let me try to earn you back."

The tears that he had been fighting back finally won, and spilled over. "How? Where do we even start?" Geralt went out on a limb and reached up to cup his cheek, wiping away a single tear.

"How 'bout we start here?" he asked. Before Jaskier could question him, he leaned forward, pressing their lips together. Jaskier was taken aback, eyes wide before they fluttered closed and he found himself melting. He had wanted this for so long. Then he felt Geralt's tongue slip into his mouth, running over his fangs and he remembered why this could never work. His eyes flew open and he pulled himself back. Reacting on instinct, not even thinking, his hand collided with Geralt's cheek with a loud slap.

Geralt didn't even flinch. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"How dare you," Jaskier interrupted, "Waltz back into my life after eight years and kiss me like I've always dreamed of you doing, thinking it'll fix everything?"

"I know it can't fix everything, but it's a start," Geralt said, holding him by his forearms. His calloused hands felt wonderful against his smooth skin. Damnit why was he making this so hard? Jaskier tilted his head to the side, not wanting to look at him directly. He cast his gaze to the side, seeing the moonlight illuminate his features in a silver glow. "Please, I can't lose you again."

"Geralt, don't get me wrong I wish this could work, but it just can't. You're a witcher and I'm a-" he caught himself. Geralt cocked his head in that oh so familiar way of his. Unmistakable fear was clear on Jaskier's face as he realized the slip up he just made. If he had any blood in him it would've surely drained from his face. He had a sickening feeling in his stomach and he tried to turn to leave.

Geralt pulled him closer, not ready to let go. He lifted a hand and raised his chin so he could meet his eyes. His voice was the softest he had ever heard it. "Jaskier, I know." Terror now replaced by confusion.

"You- what?" Geralt could pinpoint the exact moment when his brain switched from autopilot to manual, trying to piece it all together. "How?"

"Like you said, I'm a witcher. At first I didn't know exactly what you were, scent is normally carried by blood and even though I could smell emotions and a few other small things, I couldn't place your scent. It was a strange, empty kind of smell. Then I noticed little things here and there. And your fangs aren't exactly subtle." Jaskier stood there dumbfounded by all of this new information.

"If you knew, why did you let me stay? Why didn't you kill me?" His eyes glistened, his mouth slightly agape. He subconsciously reached out, fists gripping tightly to the leather armor. Geralt drew his brows together at the question.

"You're my friend, I wouldn't do that. I only kill when it's necessary, you know that, and you posed no threat. When you first approached, I was skeptical, but then I learned better. I know you Jaskier, you're a good and kind man. And in all the time we spent traveling together not once did you try to feed on humans," he said.

"How do you know?" Jaskier asked. He was still afraid. Afraid of losing him again, afraid of himself, the uncertainty of it all.

"Because I just know." Jaskier was silent, not daring to say a word. Geralt's golden eyes shimmered with longing, and he held him closer. He needed to feel their bodies pressed together. "Don't go."

Jaskier bit his lip, looking at him through his lashes. "Okay. I'll stay." Geralt broke into a wide grin, the widest Jaskier had ever seen. "This in no way means you're off the hook," Jaskier made sure to set the record straight. "You have a lot to make up for."

"I know, and I will." He raised a hand and stroked it through Jaskier's hair, a soft smile on his face. "I've missed you."

Jaskier placed his hand atop Geralt's and leaned into the touch. "I've missed you too." Geralt slid his hand down, cupping his chin and tilted his head up slightly. They shared another kiss, this one slower and with more passion. When they pulled away for a breath, Jaskier asked, "So, where are we off to next?"

Geralt smirked, tugging him even closer so he was pressed flush against his body. His arms wrapped around him, hands resting at the small of his back. The moon bathed them in her silver shine. "I was thinking of maybe staying here for a bit. At the coast."

Jaskier was beaming. "That sounds lovely." And so the vampire, the witcher, and the princess settled in a cave on the shore.

#jaskier #vampire!jaskier #immortal!jaskier #geralt of rivia #ciri of cintra #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskier #geraskier fic #geraskier angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #jaskier is bitter #ouc(original unicorn character) #sirens #witcher sirens #fake identity #original song

[flowercrown-bucky]

Trouble has never looked so good - But then again, it’s never been wearing a push-up bra before.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists..... It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats.

Word Count: 3084

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter One] 

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. 

During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.

A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED. 

LIFE on Asgard was unbearably normal.

It was fine. If anything, it was too fine.

There was only so much feasting and so many council meetings one could take, you know?

Loki had stalked off to his chambers, muttering to his brother that he needed time to focus his magic.

He didn't, of course. Odin's lecturing on diplomatic decorum had simply become mind numbingly dull and it seemed like the most suitable excuse.

Loki's chambers were in a prime position. It was, after all, the reason he had coerced his older brother into switching with him when they were both around three hundred years old. He was roughly a hundred yards from the palace kitchens, something that well suited his secret midnight-snacking habit, and about as far from the Allfather and Allmother's chambers as he could possibly be, something that well suited his secret midnight sneaking-out habit.

However, the thing he loved most about his chambers, was the proximity to the palace orchard. If he stepped through the doors onto the balcony, he could grip the railings and sort of kamikaze himself over, before dropping the two-or-so-feet distance between him and the floor, and it was this that had made him want to occupy this chamber so badly.

He'd loved the orchard ever since he was a little boy. It was his safe spot, somewhere he had gone to hide from the world, where nothing could harm him or make him feel anything he didn't want to. He liked to take a book with him, and read under the shade of the apple trees until someone came to retrieve him.

It was here he had considered retreating to when he remembered the girl kneeling between his legs.

She was, Loki believed, a princess of Vanaheim, visiting Asgard with her father. Sex was not something that particularly concerned him, but he had left the council hall feeling rather frustrated, and the remarkably attractive woman had practically thrown herself at him.

If a beautiful woman desired to fellate him, who was he to complain?

It was, however, doing nothing for him - so much so he had forgotten she was even there.

"You can stop now." He wasn't entirely gentle when he tugged her off him, opting to do so with the help of a handful of her hair, but ,hey, he was extremely frustrated and she had been no help in the easing of that frustration.

"I can-"

"Nope." He waved a hand dismissively at the woman, leaving her to gather her clothes and dignity from where they'd been discarded in the floor. Girls were far more his brother's thing.

The only satisfying sexual encounter he had ever had had been on Midgard, some ten years before. Her name was Elizabeth, and she wanted to be an actress. With a head of carefully constructed dark curls and unusual violet coloured eyes, she was positively electrifying. She'd liked Loki's regal manner, assumed he was important. He'd been looking for a way to unwind and had yet to find it in a bottle of whiskey. They had, you might say, used each other equally.

He wondered what she was doing now.

Midgard, however, didn't seem like too bad an idea.

The mortals, he thought, were funny. Their funny little ways, their funny little habits, their funny little emotions.

He rather liked that idea. Midgard it was to be, then.

--

Las Vegas, was perhaps, the worst place he had ever been. Crawling with perhaps the worst specimens humanity had to offer, and drowning in immorality, Vegas was perhaps the physical embodiment of iniquity. 

Perhaps the underbelly of the world, Vegas combined all aspects of bigotry - racism, misogyny, pride. Men traded their lives away to pay to warm the sheets of women condemned to a life of misery, destined to while their days away in some clandestine pact with dingy hotel rooms. 

Not Vegas, Loki thought to himself. 

New York, he was not particularly fond of either. It was much too cold and full of self importance. The people were, largely, cold and unpleasant, and the food was something he could never get behind. 

Europe he had not visited for a long while since. It had been stricken by an unpleasant pox last time he had visited, covering the suffering with boils as large as the palm as his hand. He’d begrudgingly lent his healing skills to the ailing people. After all, he really didn’t like the smell of rotting flesh. 

 He wasn’t altogether pleased with the likenesses the people later formed in the name of worship.

In all honesty, they made him look rather greasy and weaselly.

—

Montecarlo, Loki thought, might be a little more interesting than he'd initially thought. Possibly, his favourite place he'd visited on Midgard.

It was like a hive of temptation, the culmination of human greed. Nowhere on earth quite said luxury like a city dressed to the nines, and Loki loved it.

It was far better than his previous visits, wherein he had found the planet stricken by various bouts of violence and deadly plagues. 

1973, with its penchant for sex, drugs and rock'n'roll was far more to his taste.

He had, in the short time he'd been in the city, become very well acquainted with the calibrate of person who liked to visit. Men with enough class to never let an expletive pass their lips within company, but perfectly happy to snort narcotics off the seats of public toilets using a ten dollar bill that was on its fourth use.

Women loyal enough to remain on the arm of one gentleman for the whole of an evening but not opposed to a quick fuck in a back alley from a tall dark stranger with a mysterious smile.

Sex was not something Loki was particularly concerned with, but he did enjoy the sense of power he got from looking directly into the eyes of a man whose wife he had made come undone not ten minutes earlier.

Humans, he noted, were no different to the savage tribes of Muspelheim. They just hid it better, under expensive clothes and university degrees and layers of makeup.

This was not something he necessarily was bothered by. He was having far too good a time for that.

Casinos, he had taken a real liking to. Money was another thing that held no meaning for him, but cheating pompous assholes out of what they believed was rightfully theirs?

That, he could get behind, and it seemed he was not alone in that.

He had been watching you all evening, as you worked your way around the room.

You were dressed to kill, and the man you'd turned your attentions to looked like he would gladly die if it would please you.

One hand stroking his *ahem* ego, and the other stealing his wallet.

You were perfect.

Mischief was on his agenda, and you looked like a wonderful accomplice.

He'd approached you quietly, a gentle hand on your shoulder, his lips by your ear.

"Well, hello." He'd murmured, as you turned to face him. "Who might you be?"

You'd practically preened at the sudden attention, clearly very pleased with the idea of a second conquest of the evening.

"Darling, I'm your worst nightmare." You bit your red painted lip, your eyes trailing the length of him. Your glance was cold, calculating - pretty much everything Loki appreciated in a woman. 

For a moment, he wondered if you were to kill him, how you would carry out the act. He felt almost as if he would appreciate it. 

You looked like a poisoner, he decided. Less messy, less loose ends to take care of. 

“And what, exactly, does my worst nightmare take to drink?” He could feel the smug grin growing on his face. “I am well acquainted with the torment of the unconscious mind.” 

You were taken aback, that much he could see from your face. For someone so experienced with hustling card games, you did not have much of a poker face. 

His smile grew. Unsettling people was one of his very favourite things.

“Champagne.” You still gnawed at your lip, but the reasoning, he could tell, had changed - if he didn’t know better, he’d think you were quite literally biting back a smile. 

“A lady after my own heart.” He replied. “You have good taste.” 

 “Only the best.” You lifted your glass towards him. 

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

The course of the evening made abundant to Loki exactly how you operated. You were fairly certain you had him in the palm of your hand, that much he could tell - and it was certainly amusing to play along with it. 

You played your role well, and that was something he admired. You allowed him to lead the conversation, showering his ego with praise and affirmation. You fiddled with your hair as you spoke, twisting it around your index finger before draping it over your clavicle, trailing towards your ample bosom. 

You occasionally - intentionally - licked at your lip as you spoke, your tongue coyly tracing your plump bottom lip, tilting your head to the side as if to show how truly intrigued you were by what he was saying, exposing a good deal of neck in the process. 

It truly was a shame, he thought, that mortal men were unable to see the brains, the intellect, behind the beauty - or more specifically, the bust. 

Midgardian men were truly unable to see exactly what they possessed, but on Asgard, you would’ve been celebrated, treasured even, for the power of your mind. 

It was a great pity, Loki thought, and rather unfortunate for their wallets. 

You’d kept him on his toes since you’d first spoken. You were keeping him on his toes now. 

He watched you as you spoke to the woman next to you. You were so careful, every movement deliberate, purposeful. 

You played your part well. In a knee-length blue dress, you largely left the curves of your body to the imagination. The imagination, however, was aided by how the material clung to your hips and your more than ample bosom. Almost every male eye in the room was on you. 

You made your way back over to where he lent on the bar. You seemed to enjoy toying with him. As to why, he could not fathom. 

You waved a bottle of champagne in his face, before topping up his own glass. 

“Consider the favour...” You flashed a smile at him that was utterly to die for. “Repaid.” 

He ran a hand through his long hair, catching your gaze. 

If he was an ordinary man, he would be truly fucked. 

“So, tell me.” His voice came out as something closer to a purr than anything else. “How does a woman such as yourself turn to petty crime?” If it were possible to display every element of the spectrum of human emotion in one simultaneous instant, Loki was sure it would look very similar to how your face currently looked. 

Almost as quickly as it had come over you, it was gone. The mask returned and you flashed him a coy grin. 

“What gave me away?” Your left eyebrow quirked. 

“I’m perceptive.” He smiled. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But I’m better.” 

“What are you, a cop?” Your voice was calm, level. It was almost completely impossible to detect the emotions behind it. 

“Please.” He scoffed. “I have a proposal for you.” 

Your arm dropped to your side. Your face remained unchanged, but the mischief, the slight twinkle in your eye, was gone. 

“Meet me outside the toilets in five minutes.” Your voice was hoarse. You turned away from him with a swish of apple-scented hair, taking a step away from him. 

He reached out, catching your wrist. You stumbled slightly, grabbing at the bar to steady yourself. 

“I’m not interested in sex, if that’s what you think.” His voice dropped. 

“Then what do you want?” You spun to face him. 

“If you show me, I’ll show you.” He grinned at you. 

“Show me, what, exactly?” You asked, intrigued. 

“Everything.” He whispered. His hand came up to your face, taking your chin gently inbetween his forefinger and thumb. He turned your head gently from side to side, before tilting it back. You watched with curious eyes, but allowed him to rest his hand on your forehead. 

He closed his eyes slowly, his consciousness seeping through his body, penetrating your mind. 

--

It was an odd place, your mind. He’d never been in any other quite like it. There had always been a lot going on, in people’s minds. They were.. furnished. Most appeared as a place, at least - a childhood home, a favourite place - but yours was remarkably empty. 

Enormous black units surrounded him, rows upon rows of boxes reaching as far as his eyes could see. The only other thing present within your mind was a chair, upon which you sat. 

It was tall and as black as the shelves. The back faced him, your legs slung either side of it, your elbow resting on the top. Your chin rested on your fist, and you watched him as he adjusted to your surroundings, one eyebrow bemusedly quirked. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You smiled. “Sorry about the mess. I don’t get a lot of visitors, you know, inside my head.” 

Loki laughed. 

“Your mind is intriguing, little one.” He walked towards one of the units to get a closer look, lifting a hand to open one. It didn’t budge. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You teased.  

“Just the pretty ones.” He tugged again, a little harder. “What’s in these boxes?“

“My deepest secrets.” You replied curtly. “How do you do this, anyway? You don’t get many people who can waltz into your mind uninvited around here.” 

“I told you, you show me, and I’ll show you.” He left the boxes, walking over to where you sat. He circled you a few times, looking around for anything else within your mind. “I am not of this world.” 

“No shit.” You grumbled. 

“Ladies first.” He grinned. “I want to know how you do it. Then you will get your answers.” 

“Then get out of my head.” You replied. “The only person in here to scam is you, and it’s not quite the same when someone knows you’re going to rob them.” 

“Very well.” Loki snapped his fingers. 

You opened your eyes with a gasp as he lifted his hand from your forehead. 

“Never do that again.” You warned. 

He chuckled, lifting his hand to support his head, looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m waiting.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Where shall we start?” 

--

You leant across the table towards Loki. 

“That one.” You tilted your head towards the left. 

He lifted his head, looking up for the man you’d singled out. The ginger in the double breasted suit? The lanky blonde with the knock knees? The man bun? 

No. 

He knew the one. 

“Clammy hands.” He mused. “Look at the discoloration on the front of his trousers. The pigment has been lost from repeatedly wiping his hands on them. He has sweaty hands.” 

“Can I keep you?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Why him?” He asked. “How do you choose?” 

“I don’t.” You replied. “They sort of... reveal themselves. They look at me. Stare at me. All I have to do is look back.” 

“And from there?” 

“The art of robbing someone just comes down to sleight of hand. Same as hustling a card game.” You glanced over at the man. “I used to do magic tricks with cards and make people’s car keys disappear as a kid. I picked it up from there.” 

“Impressive.” He leaned back in his seat. “Why do you do it?” 

“This world has not been kind to me.” You sighed. “Besides, life is so much more interesting with a little chaos.” 

He chuckled, placing both of his elbows on the table, hands clasped together in front of his face. 

“Do you fuck all of them?” He raised one eyebrow. 

“Just the pretty ones.” Your face cracked into a wide smile. 

He stared at you for a second. This beautiful, conniving woman in front of him, the poison that resided in your mind, the deadliness that lay in your hands. 

In all honesty, it excited him. 

You’d intrigued him since he’d very first laid eyes on you, and every moment since, that  intrigue had grown. Who were you really? What were you? 

For the first time that evening, it occurred to him that he didn’t even know your name. 

He got the feeling that if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him the truth. You weren’t that stupid. 

You were hiding from something, he was fairly sure. Being in hiding was something he was all too familiar, and if there was anything he had learned in his five thousand years of life, it was how to spot when someone was on the run. 

“I believe you are exactly what I’ve been looking for, little criminal.” He murmured. 

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” You pursed your red painted lips. 

“A partner in crime.” He replied. “A fellow mischief maker, if you will.” 

“You could be a serial killer.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“So could you.” He said curtly. “I entered your mind and you’ve just explained how you con and rob people, but yet, here we both still are.” 

You blinked, shifting so you were leaning on your left side. Your expression was thoughtful - you were considering his suggestion. 

“And what exactly do I get out of this deal?” You asked. 

“You saw what I did earlier.” He leaned forwards on his forearms. “I will open your mind to things you cannot currently even begin to comprehend.” 

“Okay. I’ll bite.” You lifted your drink to your lips, taking a sip. “I accept your offer.” 

“I must tell you.” He warned. “You will be playing with fire.”  You set your glass down on the table, before leaning back in your seat. You turned your head to the left briefly, tossing your hair over one shoulder. You crossed one leg over the other as you turned back to face him. Your eyes found his, a gaze that truly seemed to be looking into his soul, and you smiled. 

“Luckily for you, I like to watch things burn.” 

TAGLIST: @possessedjoker​ @amour-delicate

#loki x reader #loki smut #tom hiddleston x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki/reader #loki au #loz writes loki

[thebookomens]

Reaction to Circe by Madeline Miller

I love the style she uses to write a book like this is Circe sitting down and writing her story from beginning to end.

Hated her family, but I like how they are represented: gods that don’t really care.

Her siblings are aaaaaaaall horrible people.

I mean: Aeëtes, Circe raised you, have a little love, or better even respect.

Pasiphaë I can empathize on a certain level with, but not Perse and Aeëtes. Pasiphaë had to find a way to survive like every other woman with no power back then. She found away, it does not make me like her or make her a good person, but I do understand.

I am sad to have seen what he became though, he could have been so much better. He let the power get to his head and didn’t appreciate what he already had.

I didn't like her, but I am conflicted about whether she really deserves her faith because at the end of the day she ended up enjoying it and just becomes a monster. This makes me think: Circe could never make any of the animals she changed act differently which kind of means that Scylla was just always a monster inside that wanted to feast on flesh…

The fact that this act is the one that haunts her and defines a part of her story. The guilt always follows her and is used against her. It is fitting that part of the end of her story is killing Scylla. So, she doesn’t have to feel haunted anymore, there will be no more death.

Pasiphaë I know you need to survive and that's why you are a bitch, but Circe is not your enemy, in fact, at this point, she doesn't give a shit.

Her and Daedalus’ story is beautiful and other than Telemachus, he was one of the best of her romances, I wish she had gotten a couple more years with him. They were both prisoners that just wanted to be free from the power above.

Ariadne, I loved. She had such a compassionate and good soul I wish she had gotten a happy ending. I wish she had gotten to run away with her aunt Circe.

The golden cage analogy starts Circe into the journey to realizing she is still under her families' power.

Yeah, even I could see the kid was traumatized and wanted to get as far away from you as possible Medea.

Medea truly was Aeëtes’ daughter, she had his cruelty and arrogance, believing to know more than your immortal aunt when she has seen this before.

And Circe meets the real Aeëtes, the cruel monster that gets along with Perse. Circe telling her brother off was beautiful: “This is my island.”

Circe having her innocence over mortals broken that way breaks my heart. My poor baby…

They got what they deserved.

The haze and fog she lives in for years after is so heartbreaking. It brings me to tears to read and think about it. A part of her was taken and nothing is bringing that back.

I hate that because she was a woman living alone, she gets to experience that much of the cruelty of men.

When we start reading this story, we all pretty much think it will be about him and Circe’s love for him, but really, it’s about how the aftermath of him, it gives her Telegonus and in the end Penelope and Telemachus.

The fact that in the end, it is her son she will risk everything for is beautiful.

Circe's pregnancy, his birth, and even his childhood was waaaaaay too difficult to not have been influenced by someone trying very hard to kill him.

Athena, I have always had a hate/impressed relationship with, but she believes herself way too important and intelligent. And thinking she can just replace Telegonus with another son, Gods are terrible parents (other than Circe).

I love how Telegonus was a horrible child and grew up into a very good man.

I knew Circe not telling him the truth about how his father really was and who was after him was bad. You can’t raise kids in a bubble, their innocence will get shattered horribly.  But I can appreciate her just wanting to protect her son.

Telegonus is Circe’s son, he wants to go and explore and just live.

The point she makes about how Odysseus didn’t really try that hard to get home (cough seven years with Calypso cough) is very good and one I have always agreed with.

She wanted to believe that if she waited long enough than Athena would get bored and Odysseus would come back, but that was just the man he was, he wanted to be the Best of the Greeks.

I love how in the end Circe doesn’t end up with a hero, she ends up with a man that wants to be forgotten, that wants the life his father could not understand.

Him and his father were polar opposite, Telemachus did not see the need for masking his feelings, everything he felt was projected. He wanted a simple life because he saw what being a hero actually did.

Telegonus going with her I saw coming, he wants to experience the world. He has the best of Odysseus and Circe.

Telemachus believes in Circe, sees her a powerful goddess not because she is a goddess but because he grew up to understand women are equal to men.

They both just want to travel, be free and be happy, they don’t want to be heroes or to be remembered, they just want to live.

I really love their romance; how healthy it was and how it grew. She didn’t love him when he arrived, she wasn’t impressed by him, but she grew too.

#circe #circe by madeline miller #telegonus #minotaur #telemachus #penelope of sparta #penelope #odysseus #odyssey #athena #hermes #reaction to book #book reactions #ancient greece #mythology

[the-homicidediaries]

Issei Sagawa

“Sometimes I wonder why I did such a horrible thing. Maybe it’s because I come from another planet, or another dimension and accidentally fell to Earth like a meteorite, disguised as a baby crying on the street. My mother walked by and took pity on me. I must have come from a place of cannibals, and I’m the only one of my kind who exists on this planet.”

Good afternoon, everyone who takes the time to read this!

Today, I have the very displeasure of telling you about one of the most.. bizarre human beings I have ever read about.

I have been interested in true crime ever since I could remember. My father is really interested in it as well, so growing up there were always books laying around about the worst of the worst kind of people. Even to this day, my dad and I share stories we heard or a new podcast we listened to or swap books; it’s real fun.  And when you are heavily interested in true crime, you hear and see so many similar stories. This person had an abusive childhood and became a serial killer, this person was not longer interested in being a family man so he killed his whole family and moved away to start a new life, this person was strung out on drugs, this person caught her husband cheating on her and stabbed him as a crime of passion, etc. And while I am not downplaying or excusing these murders AT ALL, because no one should be murdered, I do find myself skipping stories like that. They don’t check my boxes.

Cannibals check my box.  And I have, admittedly, unconsciously, been surrounding myself with cannibalistic aspects. I just finished (another) three part podcast about Jeffrey Dahmer, I’m reading My Friend Dahmer, and watching Attack on Titan like my life depends on it. (Attack on Titan is a Japanese manga series turned into a long running anime about three conjoined towns who are constantly being attacked and eaten by the HUGE human-like zombie creatures, but that is for another day.)

Have I rambled enough? Yes. Yes, I think so. Let’s get into ittttt.

Issei Sagawa, known as Pang or The Kobe Cannibal, was born on April 26th, 1949 in Kobe, Japan to a very wealthy family. Issei has said himself that his childhood was the happiest time of his life and he was a carefree child. He said his parents love him deeply. One thing to note about Issei is that he was born prematurely (and he looks.. off) and doctors did not think he would survive. Issei said because of this, he has always seen himself as an undesirable person. So, instead of friends, Issei had books! Because his family was so wealthy, Issei was afforded an incredible education and was able to travel all over the world and learn about music, art, literature, etc.  He was very interested in art. This will come back around later.

So how does a rich, seemingly normal, intelligent child become a cannibal?  Issei contributes a few things to this: *Issei said his first cannibalistic urge happened when he was in first grade and saw a fellow classmate’s thighs. *Issei said sex was a taboo subject around his household. He said when he had reached a certain age, he began having erections, like all boys do, but he thought he was sick and was too embarrassed to tell anyone. He didn’t know how to relieve himself at this time.. soooo. He, uh, got help from his dog.  Yeah. Yeeeah. (I watched an interview he did with Vice about ten years ago, which I will link below, and watching him describe this so nonchalantly made me the most uncomfortable. Actually, he is nonchalant the entire interview and it’s so disturbing and uncomfy. At one point he says, “I think my sexual desires began to distort around that time.”  Yeah, I would say so, buddy.) *Issei said he would have a reoccurring dream where he and his brother were being boiled in a large pot to be eaten. Issei said he flipped the script and began to fantasize about what it would be like to eat someone. As with most premeditated killers, his fantasies escalated from curiosity to behavior. *Issei was obsessed with western women. He said they are tall and beautiful and he has described himself as a “weak, ugly, and small man”. In an interview after what he keeps calling an “incident”, Issei claimed one of the reasons he consumed human flesh was to “absorb her energy”. 

Issei said he did practice a good amount of restraint for his cannibalistic urges until his college years. While attending Wako University in Tokyo, Issei said he saw a beautiful, blonde, German woman walking by and he was “dazzled by her white thighs”.  One day, he broke into this woman’s apartment on the ground floor. He said his plan was to hit her in the head with an umbrella so he could get a knife from her kitchen and cut into her buttocks and eat it. He was extremely hesitant and his knees accidentally brushed against her stomach, waking her up. She screamed and Issei fled. Police charged him with attempted rape.  Issei said he did explain to psychiatrists about his sexual urges but they didn’t consider it cannibalism and let him go. 

After this, Akira (his father) sent Issei to study comparative literature at Sorbonne University in France in 1981. In the interview, as Issei is recalling this, he said his mother had the an extremely sad look on her face the day he was leaving, “like she knew something horrible was going to happen”. (I could think of a reason why.)

Issei had not forgotten about how close he had gotten to fulfilling his fantasy of eating a European woman back in Tokyo. He was convinced if he was more prepared he could follow through with it flawlessly. He said when he moved to France, he would bring home a sex worker almost every night, but everytime he tried to shoot her, his fingers would freeze. While studying at Sorbonne University, Issei set his eyes on 25-year old Dutch student, Renée Hartevelt. Issei said Renée was so beautiful and he had never seen anyone like her before. (She really was stunning and looked like such a sweet person.) He also said he didn’t want to get caught staring at her, so he began making sketches of her.  From what I read, and I do not know how accurate this is, the two started as friends and eventually Issei began to pursue Renée romantically. He would take her on dates to art museums and dinner. When he confessed his feelings for her, she insisted they just remain friends because she was not sexually attracted to him.  So Issei lied to Renée and told her his professor wanted him to record some German poetry. Renée didn’t think anything about helping out a fellow classmate, so she was happy to come over and help.  Issei said he picked out the poem she read, and as she was reading the poem out loud at his desk, he pulled a rifle out of a closet and shot her in the neck. He said she kept reciting the poem after he shot her, then she just.. stopped. Issei said he fainted after he shot her and when he came to he almost called an ambulance for her, but he knew he would regret it if he lost this opportunity to act out his fantasies.

I am going to quote Issei verbatim from his interview with Vice.

TRIGGER WARNING

“I lied to her that my professor wanted some German poetry recorded. That was the pretext. She didn’t doubt a thing. I chose the poetry. I reached for the gun while she was reading. I was talking to her with a smile on my face. I was really scared. Yet I did pull the trigger. She... kept on talking... until suddenly she fell silent. First she collapsed onto the desk, then fell to the ground with the chair. I laid a towel under her head then undressed her. I had everything planned out in my head from which part i would start feasting on and such. Starting with her ass. I thought it looked the most delicious. It had to be the right cheek, not the left. The left cheek is closer to the heart and I’m scared of blood. I abruptly bit into it, but it was too hard to bite into. It hurt my jaw. I tried cutting in with a fruit knife but it didn’t go through. I gave up and went to the market. I bought a curved meat knife. Finally it went through the flesh. I thought I’d see red meat right away, but there was a yellow corn-like substance, which I later found out was fat. I had to cut deeply to reach the red meat. I don’t remember if I sliced it off, or tore it off with my fingers. I put most of my favorite parts, like the thighs, in the fridge.”

My face right now.

He’s leaving out a lot of details on this.. right after he shot Renée, he had sex with her corpse. And, like I said before, he is so nonchalant about all of this. He ate a LOT of her. I saw a picture of eleven paper plates loaded with human flesh, muscles, and fat. Both of her breasts, her nose, her tongue, her bottom lip, and most of her lower half (her hips, middle of her stomach, and thighs) was missing. He did say he tried to eat her breast, but it was mostly fat and he didn’t enjoy it. Her buttocks, however, “(It) melted in my mouth like raw tuna in a sushi restaurant.” He continued to try different parts of Renée’s body. He would fry pieces of her and eat other parts with mustard. He even decapitated her. He took pictures of Renée’s mutilated body and would have sex with it while listening to the recording of her reading the German poem.

For four days.

He mentioned how June is the hottest month in Paris and he was worried the body would start to rot. So he took Renée’s body to the bathroom and cut her up so he could get rid of it. (He also mentioned after finishing his graduate program, he wanted to go to Greece. He said he took a big luxurious boat and actually shared a table with a butcher and his wife during dinner. He said the butcher was a fat, jolly man and told him how to butcher meat. Issei wrote a letter to the butcher after “the incident” thanking him. He said the butcher never wrote back.)

One he had cut the body up into pieces, he placed the pieces into two suitcases and, made plans to dump the body in a lake in Bois de Boulogne, called in a cab.  “It wasn’t easy getting the body into [the suitcases]. The torso is extremely heavy. It’s really hard to cut to begin with. It’s nothing like a horror movie.” When the cab driver picked up Issei’s suitcases to put them in the cab, he asked Issei if he had a dead body in them. (That tidbit made me really sad.)

Once Issei reached the lake, he pushed the suitcases down the slope. He vastly underestimated how light it still was outside at 8 pm. He said several people were sunbathing still. The sun was setting across the lake, and Issei said for the first time, he saw color. He was fascinated watching a young boy and his grandfather at the top of a hill and while he was distracted, another man came up, opened one of the suitcases, and saw a bloody bedsheet with legs wrapped in it. A woman screamed and someone else yelled, “Murderer!”  Issei said he just walked away.

Issei was, of course, arrested. He was interrogated by three psychiatrists who deemed him mentally insane. Issei was sent to a criminal psych ward, but before he could even begin treatment, he was deported back to Japan because the French people were very uncomfortable with him being there at their expense.  Once Issei arrived back in Japan, he mentioned the hospital he was staying at didn’t conclude that he was mentally ill, just that he had a personality disorder. Issei was forced to leave the hospital without undergoing any treatment. He did not serve any time in prison for ungodly crimes he had committed.  Actually, in a weird turn of events, he became a local celebrity. He became an author, had several interviews, has illustrated mangas (that’s why I mentioned he loves art), made porn, and was even a food critic. He even travelled to Canada, Mexico, and Iceland with two friends of him. I don’t have time to cover all of that because that in itself could be a whole other essay, but like I said, I will link the YouTube video I watched below.

And that is the gruesome, awful, gut wrenching story of Issei Sagawa.

Below are pictures of Issei Sagawa and his victim, Renée Hartevelt. I am also linking the Vice interview on YouTube as well as the crime scene photos. Please view at your own risk.

Thank you for reading. <3

Crime scene photos: https://murderpedia.org/male.S/s/sagawa-issei-photos-2.htm Vice Interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BosZxa1bYcE&t=336s

[pandawritesmanythings]

Folkloric Lesson

Based on @gingerwritess Loki's Happy Ending and for her 4k follower celeration! Congrats, love!

Word Count: 1743

(I must admit that this is more self-insert-y than anything, but gosh darn it I have this scenario so clear in my mind, so sue me!)

Summary: A hot meal and a music lesson, outfits included, are a good way to introduce someone to a culture, right?

It's not that you didn't enjoy eating fancy meals when you and Loki were by yourselves. Or quick homemade meals most days with Elliot and Frigg. But you missed your mom's food.

That's why when she called you to say that she had left something for you and the kiddos on the doorstep you drove as fast as the law would allow you to pick up Frigg from kindergarten and Elliot from his afterschool club to get home. Quick.

When you saw the beaten up deep pot, clearly used past it's intended years, your eyes got glossy. You remembered that old pot.

Frigg and Elliot swarmed you with questions about what was in it.

"It's smells really good!" Elliot said trying to get a peek.

"Does that mean we're not eating spaghetti again?" Frigg's eyes widened in excitement.

"Hey! You love my pasta." You pouted placing the pot on the counter before leaning down and kissing her neck as she laughed and squirmed out of your grip.

"But what is it?" Elliot asked trying to get on top of the counter to look inside the pot.

You catched him before he could climb up. "Eh! No climbing the counter. You know that!" You admonished him half-seriously.

"But I want to know!" He pouted. Oh yeah. He totally took that from you.

"Then let me open it and let's see!"

When you opened the lid a heavenly aroma rose from the pot. A soup with an array of different vegetables and some type of meat was on the pot. A little bit of the oil from the guiso still floating at the top, but not enough to make it look greasy.

Your jaw dropped when you recognized the meat. "Oh my god es lagarto..." 

"LAGARTO!?" Elliot shrieked horrified.

"What?" Frigh asked confused.

You mentally slapped yourself. You shouldn't have said it like that. While trying to make an effort for your kiddos to know a bit of your mother tongue you had completely forgotten that colloquial language was also a thing, and not every overly simplified card game with animal names in spanish could explain everything to a nine-year-old.

"No, Elliot, that's not what it means."

"Then what does it mean?" He asked, obviously concerned at the prospect of potentially eating a lizard.

"It's a way of calling this type of meat. It's part of the cow, just like any other steak. It's just a way of speaking." You smiled as his concern slowly drained from his face. "On the other hand this is one of the softest parts to eat! You guys are really going to like it!" 

Placing it back onto the stove and turning the heat on, you ask your kids to go change and come back to help you set the table for the night.

As you finished getting everything ready your mind flew back to your culture. You had to admit that there had been a certain disconnect with it ever since you had moved to New York, and it only grew as your shenanigans with Loki augmented.  But it was something that was yours and you wanted your children to also appreciate.

A smile came to your face as you thought of an idea. But you couldn't do it today. You would have to wait a bit.

Loki was delighted when he saw the gift from his mother-in-law. He was the first to admit that the relationship with your parents was... bumpy at best. But marrying a reformed super villian isn't exactly every parents' dream, is it? But they respected your decision and were supportive where they could, even if they lived a bit far away.

The meal that day was great, and there was some leftovers that you put on a Tupperware to take to work tomorrow. Nothing in the house went to waste, and that was a law.

Loki noticed whispers among you and the children for the next few weeks, and even heard a couple of times scrambling and shushing as he came home from meeting and such.

He was starting to get suspicious, especially one night, when after finally getting Frigg to sleep, he came into the room to find you pushing something far into the closet.

He wanted to ask you about it, but he trusted you. And he honestly couldn't resist when you kissed him so lovingly. It just melted his troubles away whenever you were next to him.

Almost a month later he found what all the secrecy had been about. He came in the small apartment waiting the usual scene of you and the kids getting ready for dinner, but he found something even better.

You were sitting on the floor with Frigg on your lap beaming up at him. Both of you were wearing traditional clothes from your country. Flowers decorating your hairstyle, which consisted of tying it up on a bun.

Elliot stood by your side on a male style of the traditional costume. His mop of hair covered by a traditional sewn hat.

You three beamed at his delighted confusion. And you nodded at Elliot who played some flokloric music on the speaker and, after pulling Loki to sit on the couch, you three began singing and dancing around him as you had practiced during the past weeks. The kids on a choppy, but adorable spanish, and you with the words flowing out of your mouth. Words you had known all of your life but hadn't said in a long time.

Loki was absolutely delighted at his little family and tried to partake by taking you and trying to follow your steps. And although it was very sloppy, you didn't care. It wasn't just the sheer happiness, or the smooth but old sounding man's voice that came from the speaker, it was everything. The smiles on yours and your kids' faces. The aroma of spices that Loki had never smelled before. Maybe once in a lifetime, but too long ago for him to remember it this vividly. The flow of your dress. The way it was clinging to your hips, yet it flowed at your feet, twirling almost magically as you spun around carrying a laughing Frigg on your arms. How your cleavage and shoulders were exposed by the white shirt.  It was everything. Everything that reminded Loki everyday why he loved you and why he was so happy to have chosen you over his own pride.

This was living. This was what it had meant to be alive. To enjoy the colorful moments. The mix of cultures. The beauty of the strong woman you had become. It sent him on a trip of emotions, a spiral of happiness that not even he could explain. Because now that the song had ended, his little daughter, his little miracle, said that she practiced a song and wanted to try and sing it to him. He agreed, euphoric, and you pulled him to sit on the couch and Elliot cuddled next to him to listen to his little sister.

You kneeled next to your daughter as she took a breath and began reciting the song that both of you had been practicing. A song that you had been raised with. That you grew up singing and now your baby girl was singing too. She began to sing in her choppy and wonderful spanish:

"La vaca mah-riposa tuvo un ter-ne'.

Un becerito lindo como un beh-beh!"

You giggled as you joined her to sing along with her.

"Dámelo papaito dicen los niños cuando lo ven nacer,

Y ella lo esconde por los mogotes, que no se

¡La vaca mariposa tuvo un terne'!

Y los pericos van,Y el Gavilán también,

Con frutas criollas hasta el caney para él,

Y mariposa está, que nos sabe que hacer.

Por que ella sabe la suerte de él."

Loki sees you both there. His little girl standing there looking down at her mom kneeling next to her, a loving expression. One that goes beyond words in both of your faces as you share in a song a lifetime an a million more that go from one generation to the next.

A pretty outfit that is almost identical between the both of you, Frigg's being a bit more age appropriate for a 4, almost 5 year old. And yours that accentuated your figure perfectly and made you look like a goddess from a fable from your people. A goddess of laughter, kindness and fertility that Loki was completly enamoured with.

As the song ended he and Elliot clapped as Frigg did a little bow and you followed her lead after she motioned a hand for you to do the same.

Promptly afterwards, Loki was taken hostage by the kiddos to look at the meal that they and their mom had proudly made.

Loki was amazed at the variety of foods that you had made. He saw the arepas, like the ones that you had offered him a long time ago, when hiding in your office seemed like a good idea.

"I remember these." He smirked.

You pushed past him to pick up the trays and take them to the dining table. "Oh, shut up." You smirked back.

The table was filled with many traditional dishes from your home country, surprisingly, many were fried. One had an egg on top of it and ketchup.

"Don't judge me. Judge my ancestors. I still don't get the egg. But I said "eh, I might as well go all out!"" You offered as an explanation as you placed a tray with tequeños next to the traditional drink chicha.

Loki mildly remembered parties, and banquets and feasts back in Asgard. But there was nothing in the world that could make him forget something like this. And of course, he loved to have casual dinners with you and his little family, but this felt special, it felt like when you sit next to the heart at a cozy home. It feels right and safe. And yeah, you are playing a game with Elliot and Frigg to get them to eat their veggies, not just the deliciously fried tequeños. But it was his family, it was his life, it was you and your kids in lovely folkloric outfits and feeling safe.

It was everything that he had ever wished for. And he knew that he had never expected the universe to be this kind to him. That's why he was so thankful.

---

Hope you guys liked it! And again Theo, congrats love! <3

#loki #loki x reader #gingerwritess #gingers4kwc #writing challenge #loki (marvel) #loki fanfic #loki x you #hispanic reader #loki x hispanic!reader

[eloquated]

Kili & Elladan, @murkhith

All was not quiet in the Last Homely House, east of the sea.  From the high walls, Elladan could see the dark procession of dwarves as they wound along the side of the valley.  Even if they rode hard, the newcomers would arrive at the front doors before they could greet them– though not by much, he reckoned.

“Dwarves, in our valley!”  Elrohir groused beside his twin, pinch mouthed and doubting, “Who knows what trouble they bring!”

“Or what trouble they seek to escape.”  Elladan countered, and pressed his heels to his horse’s flanks, guiding her back towards their party, “They wouldn’t venture here if they thought they had other options.  Hear them out, otorno.  They may have come with good stories.”

That evening came with music and feasting– and the best seats in the house for eavesdropping on both his father’s solemn conversation with Mithrandir and the gruff Dwarf lord, and his companions chatter among themselves, were at the front of the balcony with the musicians.  

Individually, the sons of Elrond didn’t attract as much attention– they were fine featured and dark haired, but so were many of their brethren.  Together, people tended to pay them more mind– either from the novelty of their symmetry, or because they’d heard rumours of the elflord’s mischievous heirs!

From his seat, Elladan watched as the mood of the stately meal began to change.  One of the Dwarves (a man with a very jaunty hat indeed!) leapt up onto the table, and Elladan could see the looks of horror on Lindir and Vendethiel’s faces at the raucousness of it all.

Elladan bit his tongue to bury a laugh, but it wasn’t in his nature to hide his levity– and by the end of the first verse, despite a sharp and despairing look from Lindir, Elladan was laughing and tapping his foot to the melody. 

“I can never remember, good sir, if the next verse is the little dog or the hornéd cow.”

“Elladan!” Hissed the elfmaid beside him, sharp and quiet, “You’ll only encourage him!”

Elladan ignored her warning, and flashed the Dwarves a grin, “I should thank you for bringing such lively music to our evening meal!”

...

To say the elves were a bore would have been an understatement. Even if they had been welcomed to the kingdom, Kili saw the glances that the elves kept throwing at them; some curious but most distrusting and suffering, as if they couldn’t wait to get rid of the company already. He doubted they would have been allowed to stay without Thorin and the whole royal respect thing.

Not that he knew too much about those.

But Mahal was he bored out of his mind, and the leaf on his plate seemed more suspicious the more he stared at it. Surely it was poisoned or would taste absolutely vile at least. They weren’t rabbits damnit, they needed more than some leaves to keep their stomach filled. And the music, Mahal help him the music. It was dreadful and he felt as if he was taking part in someone’s funeral.

Luckily it seemed like he wasn’t the only one thinking the same way, as Bofur soon jumped up and started singing a very known dinking song much to the elves dismay. The dwarves, however, were living for it. Their voices rose in volume and some of them started clapping and laughing, some even rising up to spin around the table. 

The sudden words to his left caused Kili to look up, eyebrow rising in surprise at the mischievous gaze he was met with. Well well, it seemed like the evening had taken an unexpected but pleasant turn. Perhaps not every elf acted like a warg had crawled up their arse. 

“It’s about the horned cow,” Kili snickered, turning his full attention towards the elf. “I’m not sure your fellow mates would agree with you though, it seems as if they would rather be anywhere else than here.” 

...

The silence that followed the short exchange was almost deafening.  Both Elves and Dwarves alike looked slowly from Elladan to Kili, united for a single moment in their baffled confusion.  There had been animosity between the two races for longer than anyone could remember; and even now, when days were meant to be peaceful, there was suspicion and doubt.

Elves did not laugh at the jokes of Dwarves.

And Dwarves did not find amusement in the humour of Elves.

That was simply the way things had always been.

“Of course!”  Elladan chimed in return, “They also keep a hornéd cow

as proud as any queen.  It’s been an age since I’ve heard it, and longer since I’ve heard it sung so well.  Your minstrel– I’m sorry good sir, I didn’t hear your name– has a rare talent!”  Elladan’s attention flickered to Bofur only long enough to offer him a brief and smiling nod.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the sidelong glances he was receiving from the table in the corner.

It didn’t take elf eyes to read the paternal long-suffering on his ada’s face, or the bemused and too-knowing look on Mithrandir’s.  But as Elladan hadn’t actually offended their honored guests, both of them seemed to have chosen discretion as the better part of valor.  Lest Elrohir take it into his head to appear and cause trouble of his own!

“Ah, your music may be more lively, but that doesn’t mean ours must be less lovely!”  Setting down his own instrument, Elladan swung his feet around the side of his stool with an easy, long-legged grace.  His tunic was of simpler cut than most of the others; it slanted above his knees, instead of draped around his ankles, and his tall, grey boots looked worn by years of wear.  

“I would hate to think that we had made you feel less than welcome.”  There was an irrepressible tease in Elladan’s grey eyes as he held a hand to his heart, and offered Kili a very small bow, motioning to an empty seat and the Dwarves table, “Might I join you?  That way I can enjoy your music, instead of inflicting mine on you!”

...

This elf was definitely whittled from a completely different tree than others of his race. There was humor in the tone of his voice, and a teasing glint in his eyes Kili knew he had seen on his own reflection many, many times. The elves on the other tables began to whisper quietly, their glances shifting between the two of them and for a moment, the dwarf enjoyed the confusion they had thrown the elves in. Even Thorin had paused in his talk with Elrond to shoot him a warning look, one that Kili brushed off with a grin. 

Of course, he knew about Thorin’s hatred towards the elves. 

But those grudges were not his own. 

Personally, the elves had not done him wrong. 

And he could not deny his growing curiosity towards the other race either; after all, he had winked at the harp player just to see them almost roll their eyes unimpressed. But this one was different; this one seemed to answer fire with fire, wishing to cause mayhem and stir the almost droning atmosphere the clearing had sunken beneath. 

“Of course, make yourself comfortable,” Kili smirked motioning towards the empty seat, and those around him snickered and leaned forward out of curiosity. “I trust you know how… different our definition of celebration is, however. The least we’d want to do is scare you off,” he taunted lightly, resting his head in his hand.

...

For a long, suspended moment, both Elves and Dwarves seemed to wait on the edges of the their seats for the replies.  For longer than anyone could properly remember, there had been bad blood between the Elves and the children of the stones, stemming from some ancient and long-forgotten slight.  

In truth, even Elladan hadn’t been certain how the Dwarves would respond to his request!  Most of the inhabitants of the Last Homely House knew better than to encourage the twin’s mischief, but the Dwarves had no such warning– and seemed determined to scandalize the peaceful halls with their laughter.

Good.  It was long passed due!

“I’m quivering, mellon nin!  But you may find me harder to scare away than you think.”  Which was a challenge, after a fashion.  A laughing, good hearted challenge where the only stakes were pride.  Elladan’s grey eyes were bright and mirrored the silver circlet he wore on his brow.  And which glinted, polished bright, when the elf lord swept it from his head and set it unceremoniously on the table!  

“Is the sallet not to your liking?”  Elladan asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, “No wonder you’ve hardly eaten a bite, dry leaves are food for horses.”  His posture was relaxed as he leaned a little closer to Kili (much to the sharp-eyed wariness of some of the people in the room!) and motioned to a small glass bottle on the table, “You pour that over it.  But having snuck down to the kitchens earlier, I believe roast boar is the next course, and probably more to your taste!”

...

He hadn’t really paid much attention to the circlet on the elf’s head before it was moved over to the table, and Kili felt his eyebrows rise to his hairline. So, even the elves had mischievous princes among them. A quick glance over his shoulder told him his brother had seen the same thing, and the grin on his lips was filled with amusement. Even if Fili was the calmer from the two of them, he knew his brother would appreciate a good jab at his elders now and then. 

His attention was next directed to the bottle of whatever liquid it contained, and Kili wrinkled his nose. “I fail to understand how soggy leaves would make the taste better, but I am glad to hear we’re served actual food at some point,” he snickered, taking a moment to properly study the elf beside him and the longer he stared, the more he noticed the atmosphere grow uncomfortable as the elves seemed to battle between watching them and avoiding what was happening. 

The dwarves, however, had quickly grown bored of the exchange and were back to laughing and jabbing at each other over the table as yet another cheery melody filled the air. 

Huffing out a laugh, Kili motioned around with his hand. “Do you often scandalize your people like this? Shouldn’t they be glad that their prince is getting along with the kin they most seem to have troubles with?”

A teasing glint lit up in Kili’s brown eyes. “And you should know that it’s not smart to challenge a dwarf. As some would say, we have no shame. Could have you running before you’d speak another fancy elvish word.”

...

People ventured to Imladris for peace, and learning, and for healing.  Mostly humans, and the occasional elf– but the dwarves had kept their own council for longer than Elladan had been alive, and he had few encounters with the children of the stones.  

“By making them not taste like dry leaves!”  Elladan’s laugh was a merry thing; a good natured tease at Kili’s expense.  He hadn’t expected to meet a kindred spirit within the dwarven company; but it was a wonderful surprise to have been proven wrong!  Kili wasn’t like the solemn, old greybeards– and from his space at the table, Elladan could feel the eyes of the room as they lingered on the back of his neck.  

There were things good little elf boys and girls didn’t not do– but the twin sons of Lord Elrond had never listened to that wisdom!

“Ah, you know who I am, then!”  He beamed down at Kili, and inclined his head in the cheekiest of little bows, “And I know you, nephew of the great Thorin Oakenshield!  I suppose neither of us has the advantage, and we’ll both be soundly lectured about propriety as soon as your uncle, or my ada, catches us without a crowd.”

Somehow, Elladan didn’t think Kili was the sort of run away from trouble.  Especially when it was the trouble he’d caused!

“I’ll bet you on that!  If you can’t scare me away before the end of the meal, then you have to let me show you around Imladris.”  Elladan tilted his head, and fixed Kili with a slanted, mischievous smile, “Unless, of course, you don’t think you can do it?”

...

Well, seemed like the cat was out of the bag. Of course, the elves would know who he was; while neither he or his brother carried a circlet nor a crown on their heads, it was no secret that Thorin had taken both of his nephews with him on this journey. And seeing how Thorin only glared at him instead of anyone else, it made being invisible a bit harder. “Ah, they can try. But I have a feeling neither one of us will listen to them for too long,” Kili laughed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Otherwise, we would know better than to talk to each other, at least in their opinion.“ 

He felt great amusement that only kept growing as Elladan continued to tease him, clearly not bothered by the stares nor the whispers. Perhaps this was a tale people would eventually hear after their time was over; how the two different princes caused mayhem during their first meal together, and nothing was ever the same ever since. 

The thought felt bizarre yet hilarious. 

At the dare presented to him, Kili’s grin only grew wider and those close to him seemed to freeze in place before shooting the elf varying looks of pity and humor. 

"Dare accepted,” he purred, exhaling a small laugh. “But I don’t play nice, or fair. If you end up being traumatized for life, you have no one else to blame but yourself.” The tone of his voice was teasing, and he could practically feel his nerves vibrating with excitement as he leaned even closer, staring at the prince with a smirk. It had been a long while since he last had the chance to tease someone, and now he was allowed to do it to an elven prince. And either way, he’d win. Spending more time with Elladan didn’t seem that bad of a price to pay if he’d lose. 

Which he wouldn’t. 

He had never lost.

...

Elladan was the taller, but Kili was stronger and much broader, especially through the shoulders– sat side by side, they looked strangely balanced, wearing complimentary expressions of mischievous challenge.  

At their table, Thorin and Elrond exchanged glances of wary long-suffering; and if neither were willing to apologize to the other for the behaviour of their kind?  Well, it seemed as though they were willing to let the young be young (provided they didn’t cause too much mayhem for the peaceful city!)

“I’m certain I can endure the wiles of one dwarf!”  

But to the other dwarves’ surprise, and the elves’ chagrin, Elladan didn’t press his playful dare.  Instead, he crossed his long legs beneath the table, and reached for one of the slim, tapered bottles; he refilled the glasses around him, and then poured one of his own. He enjoyed the raucous music, and laughed as every verse of the old drinking song was a little more ridiculous than the one before.

In short?  Elladan let Kili stew in his own impatience, as the merry elf slowly… slowly… almost imperceptibly, slid closer to the dwarf beside him.  Elves were notoriously patient.  And Kili was not the only one who refused to play nice, or fair!

By the time the servers had begun moving between the tables with great, heated plates of roast boar, potatoes, and refreshingly bitter greens, some of the other guests had noticed Elladan’s slow shift– amusement and quiet chuckles filtering through the room as they cast Kili disconcertingly sidelong looks.  

...

The silence that followed their dare was heavy and filled with tension, the dwarf prepared for anything the elf would throw his way. Yet to his surprise, Elladan had gone silent and seemed to enjoy the celebration once more instead of making good of his words. He knew he was good, but he hadn’t thought he was good enough to scare the elf off without doing anything. Snorting amused, Kili spent the next hour talking with his kin, joining in their laughter and singing with a jolly spirit.

It wasn’t until he turned to look at the servants that he realised just how close Elladan had shifted, and for a brief second it startled the dwarf, the surprise visible on his face before he quickly covered it with a grin. So that’s the kind of game Elladan wished to play?

He was more than up for it.

As the plates were placed on the tables in front of them and the heavenly smell reached the dwarves noses, Kili wasn’t surprised to find other dwarves immediately sinking into the meat with enough vigour to make the elves almost gag in disgust. As tempting as the food was, he couldn’t just let the trick Elladan did go unnoticed.

Especially when those close to them seemed amused about the entire situation.

“No need to feel so shy,” Kili smirked, throwing a casual arm around Elladan’s waist, ignoring the sharp gasps he could hear from his left. He was sure someone even dropped a fork, if the clatter was something to go by.

“If you wished to be close, all you had to do was say so,” he added, brown eyes glinting playfully, the warmth under his hand almost distracting.

Who knew elves were so warm?

Besides, he could hear the dwarves around him whoop and laugh, boosting his confidence even further. Surely, Elladan would be shocked with the touch and pull away from their table.

...

The elven folk tended to value their privacy, and their love– though it made for wonderful stories– was courtly and gentle in public.  You would be more likely to see an elven couple with elegantly laced fingers, than with their arms around one another!  Such displays were for other people– younger races with hotter, quicker blood, and less decorum.

Elladan tensed for an instant when Kili thumped his arm around his waist.  It was heavy and warm, a solid band of dense dwarven bone and muscles worked hard by their travels.  It was unexpected; in truth, he’d wagered on Kili getting flustered at the attention of the rest of the room– clearly he’d underestimated how stubborn and resilient he was!  

“How generous you are with your affection, mellon nin!”  Elladan teased, his tone light and unshaken, “But alas?  I was merely trying to get a better look at the lovely clasp you have in your hair.”

His arm probably shouldn’t have settled so easily around Elladan’s waist, and Kili’s hand shouldn’t have slotted as comfortably as it did against his hip– and yet? 

Despite the scandalized looks fixed on them (there was even a conspicuous silence from the dwarf that had been singing, and a slack-jawed look of shock from the youngest of their company) Elladan grinned.

It was a good game.  And suddenly, a much more interesting one!

The dwarf across the table watched the two of them with a dark look of disapproval, and a voice to match, “Mind yourself.”  He intoned flatly, but the message, ‘Don’t get so damn close to one of those pointy eared types’ was more than clear.

...

“Ah, it’s alright, don’t be such a spoilsport,” Kili laughed glancing at Dwalin, whose look seemed to turn even more thunderous if possible. Both he and Thorin shared the same hatred towards the elves, so he wasn’t that surprised when the older one had spoken up. Still, it wasn’t Dwalin’s words that caused him to hesitate for a moment.

It was Elladan’s words about his hair and the clasp residing in there, the tips of his ears turning a lighter shade of red as the others around him snickered and nudged his side. Hair after all, was one of the most intimate things to the dwarves. Only close family and lovers were allowed to touch them, much less braid or play with them.

He doubted Elladan knew, but then again, the elf had surprised him before.

“… It’s a gift,” Kili finally spoke out, his words a tad more quieter and flustered as he glanced at Elladan and then away. The hand around the elf’s waist tightened a bit out of instinct, the fabric smooth against the palm of his hand. “My mother made me and my brother a matching set when we came off age.”

As sweet as the memory was, he couldn’t let Elladan win their small bet.

Hunger forgotten for now, Kili scraped up his dignity and confidence by allowing the fingers from his other hand to glide over Elladan’s own briefly before reaching over for the plate of meat.

“Are you often interested in dwarves? I’m sure we’re setting off a bunch of rumors right now,” he teased.

...

Though their friends and relatives were watching them with mingled looks of embarrassment and horror, Elladan knew that this was nothing more than a game.  A battle of wills to pass an otherwise dull meal; and for Kili, a dull meal in a strange place.  

Instead of teasing the dwarf for the mention of his mother, or the token she’d made for him, Elladan merely nodded and let the point slide uncommented.  The dwarven company was far from home, and Elladan would not score points with the mention of their distant family.  

And as intrigued as he found himself, (and he was!) there were some things you didn’t ask in such mixed company.  

“Interested?”  He asked instead, the grey of his eyes brightening at the cheeky question, “I’m interested in all the creatures of Arda!”  With a slight shift, Elladan crossed on leg over the other; a gesture the rest of the table couldn’t see, but which angled his body subtly closer to Kili.  “According to my very patient father, I’m incurably curious about all the world outside of Imladris.”

Elladan paused a beat, his fingers curled loosely around the stem of his glass, “And how could I fail to wonder about your people?  I couldn’t fathom living with tons of stone over my head.  And yet!”  His grin was half lost against the fragile green glass, “There must be something to it.  Otherwise your noble people wouldn’t do it.  So clearly there is more I have yet to learn!”

...

The answer pulled a laugh from the dwarven prince, and he had to lower the piece of meat he had bit into lest he’d choke on it. “It seems like that makes it two of us. Mahal knows that my uncle has suffered with my curiosity and I’ve gotten lectured more than once about it. Suppose there’s one of those waiting for me after the celebration too.”

A sudden urge to show Elladan their home, the way of their life rose in his mind, and he tried to imagine the elf’s face if he was to see the huge furnaces or the hidden baths carved deep within the mountains. Perhaps one day he had the chance to do so.

Granted that Thorin would not murder him first.

“Did you ever think you would actually be flirting with a dwarf?” Kili teased lightly, the corner of his lips quirking as he allowed his fingers to tap Elladan’s waist; just a reminder where his arm still rested against the fabric. The motion did not go unnoticed by some of the elves, who seemed actually shocked that their little game was still going further. Perhaps they had thought one of them would have withdrawn already.

Taking it a bit further, Kili allowed his gaze to trail up Elladan’s form very slowly, making it clear that he was enjoying what he was seeing with a smirk. “Is your plot to make me lose so you could have me in private?”

There, surely now Elladan would find him repulsing and run away.

...

The crowd had wagered (and hoped, for the sake of their own peace of mind!) that the game would have ended long before this.  That one of them would have wisely accepted defeat, and allowed the natural and long-standing lines to be drawn back between them.  Elladan could feel the weight of their eyes on the back of his neck– the resignation from the high table, and the suspicion from their own.

But when Elladan looked over at Kili, his arm still heavy and warm around his waist, he could see his own mischief reflected there.  It didn’t matter so much that they were different, when so much of what made them them was the same.

“Flirting?  Perhaps not.  But I must say… I’m not the one trying to shock our audience with such audacious displays.”  It took everything in Elladan’s will not to burst out laughing, especially when the youngest of the dwarves gasped a shallow sound of shock and clamped a hand over his own mouth, his ears turning bright red.

Elladan hadn’t expected the warmth of Kili’s appraising gaze to be such a tangible thing, it simmered like static on his skin beneath the light linen of his tunic.  If anything, it stirred the temptation to lean in closer, instead of fleeing the table!

“I believe, mellon nin, that you set the terms of the wager.”  A small, fae smile played triumphantly at the corners of Elladan’s mouth, and he motioned to the servers who were entering the balcony with trays laden with sweets.  “You claimed no elf was brave enough to endure the company of dwarves– and yet?  Here I am.  Closer than when I sat down.  In fact–” 

Elladan lightly tapped his fingers on the back of Kili’s wrist, “You seem determined to keep me here.”

...

This was not working.

Elladan was surprisingly resilient for an elf; had he made the bet with anyone else, they would have given up ages ago based on their shocked and suffering looks. For once, it even seemed that Thorin was agreeing with the elves about something, his uncle heaving a sigh before giving up in trying to keep his nephew in check.

“I admit, you are tougher to break than I thought,” Kili hummed, pulling his arm finally free from around Elladan’s waist much to their audience’s relief. Weirdly enough, he found himself craving for the contact but the elf was right; how could he leave if he was holding onto Elladan?

The light touch against his wrist sent a small shiver down Kili’s spine; he couldn’t recall a time when someone had touched his skin with such gentleness.

It felt almost odd.

He really shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“But I still have a chance,” he said picking up a long string of sweet from the plate, placing the other end between his lips. The dwarves around him started laughing as he held the other end for Elladan, challenge heavy in his eyes, a snicker slipping past his lips. “Ready to back down?”

...

Elladan was grateful he couldn’t see his father’s expression– or Thorin’s, for that matter– from where he was sitting. It was one thing to tease, and flirt, but another entirely to share a kiss with someone he’d just met.  Elves didn’t tend to blush, but Elladan could feel the heat slowly crawling up the back of his neck and across his cheeks.

The dwarves seemed to find it hilarious, their laughter holding a jeering and triumphant note, already celebrating Kili’s victory over one of those pointy eared types.

It wasn’t the idea of being close to Kili that was flustering him; the place where the dwarf’s arm had been felt too light, too cold, too conspicuously bereft.  A ridiculous thing, for both of them!  They were already so close that he couldn’t miss the way Kili shivered at his touch– but with the whole of the room waiting for his response, Elladan had no time to muse over their odd reactions.

Instead of bolting from the table (as the other dwarves were wagering he would.  Silly fools!) he leaned into Kili’s side.  Elladan smelled of fresh air and road dust, lingering from his long ride that afternoon, and his black hair tickled Kili’s cheek when he lowered his mouth beside his ear.  “You leave me a difficult decision,”  He whispered, voice pitched low to keep from being overheard.

“I could rise to your new challenge, but at such a cost.”  His voice lilted with amusement, “I wouldn’t cheapen a first kiss by placing our wager on it.  Do you truly want such a thing to be for the spectacle of our audience?”

...

For a brief moment Kili thought he had won. He had seen the flash of uncertainty and surprise in Elladan’s grey eyes and the cheers that his friends shouted only cemented that feeling further.

However…

He hadn’t expected for Elladan to lean so close all of the sudden, and the scent of dust and sun hit his nose so quickly he was forced to suck in a breath only to freeze in spot as the whispered words ghosted over his sensitive ear. His body grew rigid and he breathed out a shuddering gasp, only loud enough for Elladan to hear.

To everyone’s shock, the candy fell from Kili’s parted lips and a bright shade of red climbed up his cheeks until they had also colored his ears.

He hadn’t even thought about sharing a kiss.

At most, he had expected for Elladan to snatch the candy with his fingers, or bite on the other end; there would have been space between their lips either way. Not much, but still enough for it not to be a proper kiss.

But now Elladan had planted that thought in his head and Mahal save him, he could not continue any further with the way it suddenly felt like his heart was threatening to leap up his throat. Surely it wasn’t as loud as he felt, the elf could not hear it right?

Kili pulled back slowly, the dark hair slipping down from his shoulders as he cleared his throat and stared at the table flustered. It was an odd sensation, to feel so at loss yet so excited, so… Nervous.

No one had made him feel nervous before.

His words while silent, sounded almost like a shout in the now quiet clearing.

“… I yield.”

...

Elladan had been around people with presence before, Imladris tended to attracted them like bees to honey.  But Kili had a different sort of magnetism to him, something that made Elladan feel strangely at ease, even though they’d barely met.  He shouldn’t have felt comfortable with his arm around him, or his chest pressed to Kili’s broad shoulder as he leaned close to whisper to him– but he did.

So close that he couldn’t mistake or ignore the rapid, racing beat of Kili’s heart; and to hope that dwarven hearing was much less sharp than his own.  

For a long moment, they hovered at the edge of a stalemate, until Kili’s words pieced the tension and Elladan felt the air rush from his lungs in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  “Thank goodness.”  He breathed, a smile swiftly taking place of his heartfelt relief.  That had been far too close!

Elladan leaned back, swiftly trying to reclaim his composure, when one of the dwarves– the one that had been sitting across the table from them, his expression fixed in a dark, mottled anger– rose to his feet so sharply that his chair rocked and rattled, nearly tumbling over.

“You yield?!”  He demanded, ignoring the long suffering “Caution, brother..”  from a white beareded dwarf at the end of the table.  “It’s not bad enough we’re surrounded by these pointy-eared–”

Elladan couldn’t translate the snapped, gutteral Dwarven tongue.  But he doubted it was at all flattering!

...

He shouldn’t be missing Elladan’s warmth already.

He shouldn’t crave for more touches or to be able to inhale their scent further, maybe drown in it. The way he yearned for the elf Prince was confusing to say the least, and he didn’t like being confused. When he didn’t know something, Kili got overly protective about himself.

Easily agitated.

So it was not a surprise for the dwarves that once Dwalin started to lecture him for yielding, Kili grabbed a wad of green from a nearby plate and tossed them at the older dwarf. “Be quiet would you! That’s not your burden to carry,” he hissed, casting a flustered look towards Elladan as if to apologise with his eyes alone.

He knew his kin would not appreciate him losing, especially when he had practically given up. But he was sure if they had continued and that kiss had actually happened, it would have been much worse. Elladan was right, that was not something he’d wish for the entire party to see.

“What did he say?” Bofur asked from the far end of the table, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Must have been something bad for you to yield.”

“Please,” Kili groaned with a wave of his hand. “I merely got tired of the silly game, that’s all,” he lied, pushing himself away from the table. He hesitated before looking at Elladan.

“Do you want your price now? Don’t think we’ll get another chance before we have to leave, and the food is mostly eaten anyway.”

...

It wasn’t in Elladan’s nature to sit quiet when the people he cared about were in trouble.  More to the point, it wasn’t in his nature to sit quiet at all– but that was a very different sort of trouble.  For an instant, he wanted nothing more than to rise to his feet and shove the angry dwarf’s words back down his throat where they belonged.

And then Kili looked back at him, and there was something apologetic in his expression that made Elladan’s chest tighten unexpectedly.  He was no diplomat, and the company had run hard that day.  Been chased by wargs.  And faced an unfathomable journey yet ahead of them.  But mostly, it was that look that stayed the sharpness of his tongue.

“I told him that I wished to hear more about your adventures, and the kingdom you’re trying to free.  But such a conversation doesn’t fit within the stakes of our wager.”  Elladan told Bofur smoothly, and let Kili wave away the rest.  Several of the dwarves had the good grace to look a little shamefaced, all save Dwalin, who was furiously picking bits of greenery out of his beard!

Turning to Kili, Elladan reached across and plucked two of the sweet buns from the platter on the table, and tossed one lightly to his new friend.  “We should!  If I don’t get you back in time to sleep, you may fall asleep on your feet tomorrow.”

Elladan scooped his circlet off the table, and bowed elegantly to his father and Thorin, pressing the gleaming silver to his heart, “Máriessë alámenë, Ada… And good night, my lord.”

...

Kili caught the sweet bun with ease despite being caught by surprise from the throw, and felt gratitude wash over him like a wave as Elladan came up with such a convincing lie so quickly. Usually, the dwarf would have a sharp tongue and quick wit to respond to such teasing words, but oddly enough his brain felt nearly sluggish after the flustered state Elladan had left him in.

The only one he didn’t fool was his uncle and brother; while Fili gave him a cheeky grin and a look he would ask questions later, Thorin just seemed ready to drag him away by his ear.

He knew from experience how much that hurt.

“Thank you for the feast,” Kili said quickly, remembering his manners barely in time. After all, Elrond had prepared the celebration for them and fed them, giving them shelter even if their kin had been reluctant to take it.

Without another word he grabbed a hold of Elladan’s sleeve, dragging him away from the clearing. The need to get as far as possible burned in his chest, and even if he didn’t know where to go he still followed the marble stairs down as far as they lead, until the sound of songs and laughter was but a distant echo.

Only then did he stop and release his hold of the elf with a soft yet embarrassed chuckle. “That went well,” he huffed smiling, shifting weight from one foot to the other in a nervous gesture.

“… Thank you for coming up with the lie. You didn’t have to save me from their jests.”

...

While the elves of Imladris and their guests had lingered over their meal, the sky over the Last Homely House had darkened with the coming night.  Bright stars were beginning to shine through the deepening blackness, picking out the constellations that Elladan knew by heart.  

It was nearly summer, and beyond the elaborate windows and balconies, they could smell the freshness of the water that spilled in great waterfalls through the valley.  Elladan was quick on his feet as Kili dragged them both from the dining room, his chest feeling strangely effervescent and light.

“Better than either of us could have expected, I’d say!  I thought your friend was going to challenge me to a duel for your honor!”

When they finally stopped, he grinned down at Kili– without the table between them, he could see the dwarf more clearly, the muscled arms that had felt so at home around his waist, and the sheer sense of solid, capable strength that all his folk seemed to have.  In comparison, Elladan was tall, but willow thin; black haired and grey eyed, the pale elf looked at home in the cool silver light.

With a look that was equal parts impish and hopeful, Elladan held out his hand to Kili and wiggled his fingers teasingly, “I’ll let you thank me this once, but never again.  Next time, you’ll know I don’t leave my friends to be eaten alive. Even by their own company.  Now, I promised to show you some of Imladris that would be more to your liking, and I mean to keep my word!”

...

Knowing Dwalin, the dwarf would have challenged Elladan for sure if they hadn’t left when they did. Just like Thorin, the older dwarf felt the need to protect him and Fili from harm, especially if it came from elves. He hoped that eventually they would understand that no harm had been done, and it was truly merely a game between two mischievous princes.

A game he had lost, unfortunately.

That didn’t quell his fire, however, as he grinned up at the elf. “You might have won this time, but I demand a rematch later. You merely caught me by surprise with your words,” he stated, finally reaching out to link his fingers between Elladan’s own wriggling ones.

What was some hand holding after such blatant flirting after all? Yet the almost intimate gesture made him feel more nervous than what they had done by the table.

Elladan’s hand was slim and smooth against his own; where his own fingers were thicker and shorter, the elfs were long and elegant but still fit together with his own surprisingly well. He hadn’t really thought that fingers could be interesting before, yet now he found himself comparing them silently, the pale skin against his darker one a visible contrast how different they were.

“You definitely have more open space under the sky than we do,” Kili finally spoke out to break the silence, his smile almost a shy one as he turned to stare at the darkened sky above them. “It almost feels like one could get lost here where there are no walls.”

...

“So eager to lose again?  I’m sure I could indulge your rematch.  The next time I see you, then.”  The words felt like a promise when they left his lips, and the sincerity behind the words surprised even Elladan a bit.

The next time I see you.  

Neither of them knew what the next few months would bring, and the company were going in search of a dragon– across the deadly peaks of the Misty Mountains, and through the unkind darkness of the Greenwood, there were hundreds of miles left before the dwarves. And neither Elladan, nor Kili, could predict what that future would hold.

Stay alive, stay safe.  And I will see you again.

“I’d thought the same about your cities.  All the walls, and the weight over your heads!  How could you navigate the tunnels without getting yourself hopelessly lost?”  Elladan hadn’t been lying when he’d admitted to being curious about the dwarves; their lives were just so different!

At the table, their flirting, teasing game of one-upmanship had been half for the amusement of their audience.  But out here, as they stopped by one of the great windows, there was no excuse for the comfortable thread of their fingers, or the quickening of his heart when they came together so easily.

With a tug, Elladan hurried Kili along, eager as an elfling to show him the valley outside of the glittering house.  “How do you sleep without being afraid the roof will fall in on you?”

...

“How do you sleep out in the open?” Kili countered laughing, taking in the passing scenery. The scent of trees and flowers filled his nose, and he could hear the rumble of the waterfall close-by. Back home, all he could smell was dirt and earth, and all he could hear was the sound of hammer on an anvil and feel the heat of the flames against his skin.

But here the air was cool and fresh, and he had to admit it was a nice change.

“You do know the belief of how we came to be, right? We were born out of stone and that’s why we made stone into our home. It brings us comfort and safety, we carve rooms and furniture out of the material with ease for that same reason. It’s just a part of who we are,” Kili explained, giving Elladan’s hand a light squeeze.

He was glad no one else seemed to be around because of the celebration, he wasn’t sure how they would take it if they were to see the two of them now. The sensible thing to do would be to let go but he couldn’t make himself do so.

Besides, it didn’t seem that Elladan minded.

“Do you not feel vulnerable being open like this? No walls or ceiling to shelter from oncoming threats?” He asked curiously. “Your defences must be top-notch, considering you haven’t had any invasions.”

...

“Then you see the source of my curiousity!  Your people walk and talk, and breathe the same air as mine– and yet, your bones are made of a very different metal than mine.  The same differences that our people use as justification for their anger, are the same differences I want to understand!”  

Hand in hand, Elladan half pulled and half coaxed Kili along through the house.  The ceilings were high and the walls and windows seemed to have been built in harmony with the airy world of waterfalls and trees around them.  It was nothing like the great dwarven halls, but it held a soft, fae beauty of its own.  And in short order, Elladan held the door for them, and lead his companion out into the birdsong night.

“I know the stories my father told me when we were small.  Though, I confess!  I was always more fascinated by the tales of the Ents.  I’ve never seen a walking tree before!”  He returned the gentle squeeze of Kili’s fingers, and turned his face up to the night sky when they left the house.  The hard-packed paths gave way to mossy ground as Elladan turned their steps away from the roads, following a thousand years of his own memories. 

He and Elrohir knew every inch of the valley, and explored them twice over!

“Aulë made the dwarves strong to endure. Therefore they are stone-hard, stubborn, fast in friendship and in enmity, and they suffer toil and hunger and hurt of body more hardily than all other speaking peoples; and they live long, far beyond the span of Men, yet not forever.“  Our books don’t tell us much about your people, but I shudder to think what your tales say about us!”  Elladan grinned broadly at Kili, and released his hand long enough to deftly leap over a fallen log, long since mossy and returning to the earth.  

“Vulnerable?  No!  Out here I can run, I can shoot, and I can see my enemies coming.  This feels like the safest place in the world.”

...

“We don’t have many books about elves,” Kili admitted chuckling, taking his time in climbing on the mossy log. Unlike Elladan, he wasn’t used to jumping or climbing trees, especially mossy ones. He had learned the hard way that those were slippery. Now he took his time in balancing with more care, feeling his boots sink into the greenery.

He felt like a child again with his arms spread on both sides, a wide grin playing on his lips.

“Those we have don’t tell much either. I’m not sure whether it’s because of our kins issues with yours or if we simply don’t know enough. Some say you came from the trees, others believe you descended from the stars,” he continued, making a show of teetering on the very edge of the log before leaping down, brushing his hands against his pants before skipping to the nearby rock.

It had been a while since he could just enjoy being outside with no one breathing down his neck, and it was clear on his relaxed posture how much he was enjoying their small escape.

“Are you truly immortal, or is that just a tale?” Kili asked curiously, turning to look at Elladan over his shoulder. Up on the rock, he was almost the same height with the elf.

“What do you do with that much time? How old even are you?”

...

The further they ventured from the path, the steeper the slope began to slant downwards.  There were a dozen easier ways to where Elladan was leading them, but none so direct– and none that wouldn’t mean wandering, winding, through the busier parts of Imladris.  

Their time was limited, and Elladan could feel the prick of the deepening night on his skin.  The cool air was a reminder that they only had until dawn, when the dwarven company would surely be eager to continue their journey.  Light would some, and they would go; and Elladan refused to waste a minute of it.

“I couldn’t tell you!  It’s as much a mystery to my people as it is to yours– there are some secrets even the firstborn aren’t meant to know.”  Elladan admitted merrily, his heart feeling unexpectedly light when he returned Kili’s easy smile.  “Life would be intolerably boring without a mystery or two, wouldn’t it?”

Elladan paused halfway down the slope and half turned, the night air blowing the long, black hair back from his face.  His circlet had been tucked onto his belt, barely an afterthought, and Kili could see the pale point of one ear escaping through his hair.

At the table he’d been taller than Kili, and even moreso when they were standing…  Suddenly, he was eye to eye with the dwarf, and his smile faltered.

“Immortal?  Not entirely.  We age, and we can die.  But we measure time very differently.”

It was the sort of question people didn’t ask the elves!  And Elladan wanted to answer, he wanted to encourage the brash curiousity that had so completely caught his attention!  But what a question… And how would he react to the answer?

“I’m … Young, by our reckoning.”  Elladan said quietly, his grey eyes not quite meeting Kili’s in the dark, “We were born early in this age, and I had already reached my majority before your great city was founded.”

...

The way Elladan closed up about his age caught Kili by surprise, and uncertainty flickered in the dark eyes for a brief second. Had he already managed to cross over a line and made the elf uncomfortable? He didn’t mean it, but he also couldn’t help his curiosity. While dwarves did not age as slow as the elves, most of them still lived to be a healthy 250 years in average.

Some even reached the age of 300!

“You must think we all are very young in that case, especially me,” Kili chuckled, smiling in a tad uncertain way as he tried to light up the situation again. “I came off age just a while ago, so guess I could blame my young age for my curiosity but you’re a proof that age has nothing to do with curiosity,” he teased lightly, leaning over to poke his finger gently against Elladan’s forehead.

“If anything else, one could say one gets more reckless as they get older. I mean, look at you being out here alone with a dwarf, who knows what whispers are going around as we speak?”

...

With an incandescent little pop, like the bursting of a soap bubble, Elladan felt his fear evaporate.  “I’m still very young by elven standards!  Truthfully, we’re probably close to the same.  The only difference is that I had my 2800th Begetting Day a few years ago.”

But his grandmother had watched the Valar kindle the moon into being, and his father had seen the end of the First Age.  In comparison, the twins were very young indeed!

Elladan’s hand swept up to catch Kili’s fingers, a brief furrow crossing his forehead when he’d been poked, “I suppose this must be reckless, indeed.  But I haven’t had this much fun all season!”  With a beaming smile, Elladan looked down at their hands, and splayed his fingers out against Kili’s.  One hand was pale and slender, the other broader and stronger; but when they fit.  

“I’d be more worried about the trouble you’ll get tomorrow.  Your friends seem the sort to tease you from here to Osgiliath!”  Halfway down the slope was a strange place to stand, but it was quiet and private, while the rest of Imladris lingered over their evening meals.  

“I’ll hope my company is worth the trouble.”

...

“Eh, I’m more worried about Thorin than one of my friends,” Kili admitted with a small huff, gaze fixed on their fingers. The intimacy of it still shocked the dwarf, his expression thoughtful as he ran one of his finger lightly over Elladan’s own. Never in hundred years did he think he’d find such peace by holding hands with an elf, yet here he was.

Elladan was teaching him a lot of new stuff in the span of one evening.

“But while I fear my uncle’s reaction to this developing bond, I have to admit I’m rather curious too see how others react to this. I’ve done a lot of reckless things in my time but never anything quite like this,” he smiled, allowing the gravity to finally slide him down from the rock.

In the new position, he had to hold his arm higher to keep their fingers connected but he didn’t mind. If anything, he felt a tad excited about how different they were.

“What about you? I don’t think your family is taking this lightly either, unless you’ve made a habit to run off with your guests,” the dwarf continued with a soft laugh, throwing a wink up at Elladan. He couldn’t quite explain why he felt the need to tease the elf, why he was close to flirting with him again for reactions but…

It didn’t feel wrong.

...

Elladan’s fingers twitched, responsive and sensitive, at the gentle rasp of Kili’s touch.  It wasn’t unpleasant at all; just different.  Like the two of them, like their hands, like the whole of this unexpected night– things that shouldn’t work together, but somehow did.  Complimentary differences, perhaps; but Elladan wasn’t interested in analyzing it.  

Not then.  They’d have more than enough time for that later.

“As have I!  And I’m a little leery of your uncle’s reaction, as well.  I have no doubt he means only the best for you, but I fear he’ll find it difficult to look beyond my race.”  Elladan paused while Kili slid down from his rock, and the height between them changed again.  Even if the dark, there was no mistaking the differences between them!  And Elladan could no more pretend to be a dwarf, than Kili could be an elf.

“My father will have nothing but words of support, and caution.  He holds no ill-will towards your people, and he’s rather given up telling us who we’re allowed to befriend!  So long as you mean us no harm, he’ll keep his own council.  As for the rest of my people?  Well, it’s been too long since they’ve had new grist for their gossip!  I’m curious about their rumours, not afraid of them!”  

Gripping Kili’s hand more tightly, Elladan lead the way through the valley, their path winding up and around until the lights of Imladris were pinpoints, and then lost entirely on the far side of the night dark trees.

“My family has a history of carrying on with people we shouldn’t.”  Elladan grinned back over his shoulder, bright and impish, “Or do Dwarves not tell the story of Lúthien?”

...

He had no doubts that the elves were already spreading rumors, and had to admit he was also curious about finding out what those rumors were. Surely, this was the talk of the century!

“Can’t say it sounds familiar,” Kili admitted laughing, stepping over the larger rocks and branches with ease. After all, dwarves had an excellent sight in the dark; how else would their kind be able to live inside the mountains? Before the fires had been lit, they had to rely on their instincts and senses. 

A quick glance over his shoulders told him they had ventured far from the city, and curiosity bloomed ever brighter within the dwarf. Where was Elladan taking him? Were they merely walking, or was there a destination to be reached? 

“Is it a juicy story? I’m afraid our books did not cover what scandals your race might have gone through by yourselves,” the dwarf snickered good-naturally, tightening his hold of Elladan’s hand just because he enjoyed the sensation of the smooth skin against his own rougher one. 

It felt hard to believe those same hands could kill with such ease if needed. 

“Please tell me it’s a tale of an elf who ran away with a dwarf or a human.”

...

“Believe me, mellon nin, if I had a relative that had run away with a Dwarf, it would have made for a very different sort of gossip over the evening meal!”

Elladan had been back in the city for months, and the walls had begun to feel close and suffocating around him.  Too many walls, too many expectations– he knew his brother had felt the same itchiness under his skin, the urge to turn and run for the wider plains.  

But they had ridden with the Dunedain long enough, and when their father had called, they had returned home.

But this?  Out beneath the star studded sky, his spirits lifted by the merry company at his side?  Elladan felt as though he could breathe again.  

Hand in hand, he lead Kili around the edge of the grey valley, the night air brisk and cool, and scented with damp loam and crushed greenery beneath their feet, crackling with deadfall.  “Just a little further..”

In the silver light, Elladan’s face was touched with fey mischief, as he reached out with his free hand to pull aside a thick veil of branches.  He’d promised Kili that he would show him a beautiful sight; something lovely beneath the sky, to prove that not all wondrous things were found in deep caves.  He only hoped this settled their wager.

The slope of the valley steepened here, dropping down a sharp and wooded slope towards the river far, far below.  It felt like standing at the edge of the world, domed by the endless vault of silver stars in their limitless blackness.  The Last Homely House was picked out like an orange-red jewel against the deep green darkness, but the only sound around Kili and Elladan was the breeze in the trees, the rush of the distant river, and the occasional twitter of night birds.

“The story begins in a place like this.”  He murmured, tethered by Kili’s hand as he walked closer to the edge.  “With Lúthien dancing beneath the starlight.   She was the daughter of Elu Thingol, King of Doriath, and his Queen, the Maia, Melian.  And how, caught up in her dance, she didn’t notice the human man, Beren, who had seen her.”

...

Instinctively, his grip of Elladan’s hand tightened as the elf waltzed closer to the edge of what seemed to be a bottomless pit. Being a dwarf, Kili was not fond of high places and for him it felt as if he could be sucked into the void at any moment. But there was beauty in the darkness; the stars above them reflected from the surface of the water below, and he had to admit there was an own kind of beauty in the place.

It felt almost as if they were in a world of their own.

A private place that existed only for the two of them.

Suddenly, it felt as if his heart began pounding a lot faster.

“Was he captivated by her beauty?” Kili asked silently, breaking the tentative silence that had descended upon them. “I don’t think many men have had the chance to see an elf dance, much less an elf maid. I think he would have been, unless the story has a sad ending.” 

The dwarf made a face, taking a tentative step closer to the edge to stand beside Elladan. The air felt thicker than before, and Kili wasn’t sure whether he only imagined it or if something was building between them. Did he wish for something? Or was he merely loopy from the height of the place?

Shaking his head to clear it, the dwarf released his hold of Elladan’s hand and crouched instead, burying his hand in the cool grass.

 “Please tell me it’s not a sad story.” 

...

Whatever this was between them, and Elladan couldn’t put the feeling into words, it seemed to have a life of its own.  A quicksilver energy that bound them together, running through their veins and crossing their joined hands, creating a closed circuit that tingled on Elladan’s skin wherever they touched.

“It was love at first sight.  A hopeless, all consuming love.  But when Lúthien heard him approaching?  She fled.”  

Elladan had always loved stories, and it didn’t particularly matter where they came from.  He delighted in the telling of them, his voice animated and that softly enigmatic smile on his face.

When Kili dropped his hand, Elladan could feel the cold that rushed in to take the place of the rough Dwarven heat.  Sitting down beside him hadn’t been a conscious decision; it felt like the only natural thing to do.  So he sank down crosslegged on the grass beside his new friend, and looked out at the glittering blackness over the valley.

“But he came again in spring, and this time she let Beren fold her in his arms.  It’s said that Lúthien was more beautiful than any elf-maid before, or after; and it there was Maiar blood in her veins.”  

Elladan’s heart felt like it was tripping, hammering, against his ribs.  And before he could think better of it, he reached out, his fingers lightly resting over Kili’s in the thick grass.

“Their son, Dior, was the first child of mixed blood.  The first of a union of Elf and Man.  And their choice has traveled through their bloodline, generation after generation– the choice of whether to remain immortal, or to sacrifice their long, long lives for short human ones.  So you see, mellon-”

Elladan waved his free hand towards himself, and out to the dark valley, “What I said was true.  My family does have a history of finding love in very unexpected places.”

...

It took a moment for Elladan’s words to register in his mind and once they did, he could feel the tips of his ears burn and thanked Mahal that the valley they rested in was bathed in darkness. For it hid the redness he was sure had taken over his entire face, burning under his skin but it was not unpleasant. It wasn’t a blush of shame or embarrassment, but surprise. 

There laid something unsaid between the words Elladan spoke, of his family finding love from other races. Something Kili did not dare to put into words.

“It’s not uncommon for some of our race to fall for people,” Kili said, fingers twitching underneath Elladan’s own as he laced them together once again, thumb running over the smooth surface of the elf’s fingers. “Elves however… that’s unheard of. Most of our kin still thinks of you as something too different and because of that. they reject your kin. If they were to hear about this, about the way we speak to each other and… hold each other…” the dwarf trailed off, tongue thick in his mouth as he swallowed nervously.

Mahal, what was it about this particular elf that made him feel as if his every nerve was on fire?

“I’m not delusional, am I? You feel it too?” He asked almost desperately, finally turning to gaze upon Elladan. In any other situation he’d be ashamed of how he sounded; almost pleading like a child desperate for an affirmative answer. He felt raw and exposed, and knew that with a single word Elladan could inflict a blow so deep it would take him years to recover.

“There’s….something.”

...

“It’s not your people, alone.  My own are far from free of prejudice.  Both sides have been at odds for so long that…”  Elladan trailed off, and in the darkness a look of helplessness flickered across his face.

What had started as a joke between them, a way to tease each other– and to ease the stuffy, rigid formality of the evening meal– head become something else.  Or perhaps it had always been, and the joke had merely been the catalyst for them to see it.

Kili’s fingers were warm and broad in his own, as solid as the bedrock the children of stone were said to be crafted from. And they fit– that was strangest thing of all!  His skin felt flushed and alive where they touched; and Elladan’s sigh of relief when Kili turned his hand to clasp his own, was audible in the still night.

“Something… Yes.”

It was almost a relief to say it aloud, and Elladan turned to Kili with a small, shaken smile.  Slowly, he traced the pad of his thumb across the ridge of Kili’s knuckles, feeling hard bone beneath the weathered skin.  It was still an unfamiliar touch, but it made his stomach tense with pleasant nerves, the space filled with fluttering.

“You’re not delusional.  Unless we both are, and that seems even more impossible.  I know… I know.  We should both go back to the city, and forget all of this.  Your company is going to leave in the morning, and it would surely be the wisest thing to pretend this... never happened.”

Elladan swallowed hard, his grey eyes tracing Kili’s face in the silver moonlight, the desperate cadence of his heart compelling him to commit it to memory.  Just as it looked in this moment, like a talisman against the forever days ahead without him.

“But… I’ve never claimed to be wise.”  

...

He knew Elladan was right.

They would leave in the morning, and the chances of seeing each other again were slim. The road ahead was filled with dangers and the looming threat of death, and it would not be fair for him to ask the elf to wait for something that might never happen.

Besides, Elladan was immortal. His own lifespan would be a mere blink in their eyes.

It wasn’t fair.

“…It pains me,” Kili whispered quietly, meeting Elladan’s gaze with his own; just as miserable, just as lost as he was. Their time together was running short, and he knew he would never meet anyone who would make his heart jump with joy as Elladan did. After all, dwarves only fell once.

“If things were different… if we had met in different circumstances, a year or so later when this journey was over…” he trailed off with a slow shake of his head, shoulders slumped in defeat. His fingers caught Elladan’s own, slowly tracing patterns into the warm skin as if he was memorizing the sensation on his fingertips.

“Yet, I can’t bring myself to say we should forget. I don’t want to forget, and pretend this never existed.”

...

Even the powerful, and the wise, could not choose who their heart wanted.  For most of his life, Elladan had reconciled himself to living without that particular connection; his people loved once, and only once.  And the sons of Elrond had always come as a pair.  Perhaps, he’d thought then, they were a joke of Eru– making them brothers instead of lovers.  

And it hadn’t mattered!  He’d never felt the lack of romance in his life.

Now, Elladan suspected, his heart tight and trembling against his ribs, that he’d simply been waiting for someone entirely different.

“I would not be the source of your pain.”  Elladan’s gaze dropped to their hands, his own long, slender fingers laced through Kili’s as though they’d been fashioned to fit there.  Complimentary in their opposites.  “Not for all the world.  But it seems that Fate has other ideas.”

With a long sigh, Elladan lay back on the grass, the soft blades releasing their fresh, green scent when they broke.  From this angle, Kili looked haloed by stars, the light of them catching on his dark hair and the flush of his cheeks. 

“If we’d met two years from now, your journey would be done, and perhaps you would not be the same person you are now.”  He murmured, still thumbing the back of Kili’s hand.  “Had you not been attacked so close to our valley, your people would have had to reason to seek shelter here for the night.’

“Had gwenur and I been away this night, as we often are… So many things aligned for us to meet, like this, in this moment.”

Elladan’s free hand was unsteady when he reached up to smooth a few stray strands of hair from Kili’s brow, his fingertips lingering on his temple.  “I could never forget you… I would rather suffer the pain of missing you, than never have know you, or this, at all.”

...

The lingering, cool touch against his temple almost tore a sob from Kili’s lips. He had been hurt in his life by blades, by fire and mistakes but none of that pain compared to what he felt right now. It felt as if something was trying to tear its way out of his chest and he felt like screaming until his voice was hoarse, he wanted to do something reckless like beg for Elladan to run away with him and just hide from the rest of the world who thought of them as wrong.

But he couldn’t. 

They were both of royal blood and had duties for their people; they could not be selfish like that.

“Why would the Gods wish for us to suffer like this?” Kili asked pained, covering Elladan’s hand with his own so he could lean his head against them, nuzzling his faze over the elf’s open palm. “So much could go wrong, I might not return from this journey at all and I can’t… I can’t ask you to wait for me. It would not be fair towards you. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already am.”

The silence stretched upon them, and Kili took a moment to just breathe in Elladan’s scent, searching comfort from his gentle touch. He smelled like the grass and the forest, something crisp and fresh and it made Kili’s head spin. It was simply the most enticing scent he’d ever smelled in his life.

“But if there is a chance to see you again after this…”

...

He was so very warm, despite the cool night breeze, and Elladan wanted nothing more than to fold himself into the dense strength of Kili’s arms.  To hold onto him, to feel the hammer beat of his heart against his chest, for as long as they might be able to.

Their parents would be horrified.  But in that bittersweet moment, Elladan had no thought for anyone but the man beside him.

“You won’t ask me to wait, any more than I would ask you.  If you find someone on your travels that makes…”  His voice wavered embarrassingly, the last syllable shaking unsteadily before succumbing to silence.  It was selfish, impossibly selfish, but Elladan didn’t want Kili to meet someone else.  

The idea of him holding another hand like this, of knowing that someone else had claimed the small, fledgling corner of his heart?  It made Elladan’s fingers twitch, tightening with the urge to hold him just that bit closer.

Elladan ghosted a smile up at Kili, the tips of his fingers tracing along the line of his cheek, the squared jaw and the rough bristle of his beard.  The elven folk were fair, but Kili felt real in a way his own people didn’t.  

If they were the cool fire of distant stars; than Kili was the glowing forge, or the heat of the home hearth.  

“Tomorrow you go.  Reclaim your kingdom.”  Elladan’s eyes were wide and silver in the starlight, drinking in the sight of his own fingers moving across Kili’s skin.  “And when you’ve driven out the dragon, and are prince beneath your mountain, send me word.  I’ll come.’

“But for tonight, just let me be Elladan, and yours.”

...

Let me be yours.

The words resonated within Kili’s core and he released a wounded sound that came from somewhere deep within his chest, and didn’t even hesitate to brush his lips ever so gently over Elladan’s wandering fingers. He swore he could almost taste the grass on his lips, and he breathed softly against the cool skin, his lip quirking up in a hint of a smile.

“Not many outsider knows, but we dwarves don’t take multiple lovers during our lifetime,” he murmured softly, allowing his other hand to trail through Elladan’s hair slowly. It felt like silk, slipping between his fingers smoothly and he absently rolled a strand around his finger as if that would keep the elf with him for a while longer. “Some do of course, if their spouse dies in a war or from sickness. But they would never love the new one as deeply as they did the first. So I suppose in a way, it’s almost similar to how you elves are told to love.”

He met Elladan’s silver eyes with his own, holding his gaze as he spoke the next words that he was sure would shock his entire family and kin if they were to hear them.

“There will never be anyone out here for me, who would make my heart beat like you do. From now on, it beats for you and only you. And when we’ve reclaimed our kingdom I’ll write you and we will figure something out. If this is what the Gods intended for us, we will find a way to make it work.”

...

It was madness, this feeling.  A wild, impossible thing that felt like it had always been there, patiently waiting for the day that they would be close enough to realize it.  The old stories spoke of love at first sight, of finding someone who’s fea resonated in time with your own.  

But they’d been stories, nothing more. 

“Very much like our own.”  Elladan confirmed, his voice constricted to little more than a murmur, pushed through a tightening throat.  “One love, for all the long days of our lives.  I always believed it was a choice; and one could choose not to love.  I… How wrong I was.”

Would either of them have chosen this?  Elladan wasn’t certain.  The thought of Kili leaving at sunrise was agony, soothed only by the gentle pass of his fingers through his hair, and the steady pressure of their joined hands.  How quickly the alchemy of affection turned laughter into love!

Slowly, Elladan propped himself on one arm, his eyes falling closed as he pressed his forehead to Kili’s, “For you, and only you.”  He repeated the words softly into the space between them, and felt the weight of the vow as it settled on his heart.  

Elladan lifted their joined hands and pressed them to his chest, the rushing trip of his heart vibrating under Kili’s fingers.  “What do you call this feeling in your language?  That I may hold your words close to me, even when you’re not.”

...

“There are many words for what we’re feeling right now,” Kili replied just as silently, moving to rest his hand on the nape of Elladan’s neck to hold the elf close for just a while longer. His thumb continued to draw slow circles through Elladan’s hair, his words a whisper over the elf’s own.

“Amrâlimê simply means ‘my love’,” he started, allowing their joined hands to press closer to Elladan’s chest and for a brief moment, he thought he felt the elf’s heartbeat underneath his palm. “Menu tessu means ‘you’re everything to me,” he continued and in a fit of adrenaline he leaned closer, burying his face into the soft hair and inhaled deeply.

At this rate, his heart would surely burst.

“But if you allow it, I would like to call you my Lukhudel,” Kili finished, a hint of a smile playing on his lips before he pressed them lightly on Elladan’s forehead. “It means ‘light of all lights’.”

And for Kili, Elladan was just that.

A bright light that shone through the trees and unto the earth, castings its warmth over the cold rock.

...

“Amrâlimê…”  Elladan ran the word over his lips softly, feeling the almost Sindarin shape of the letters. It sounded different in his voice than it did in Kili’s, a Dwarven word made tenderly different, precious, in an Elven voice.  There was nobody to judge them here, nobody to warn them against falling too hard, too fast.  

And so there was nothing to caution Elladan against resting his head on Kili’s shoulder, or breathing in the scent of him, like loam and leather and woodsmoke.  For a moment he was tense with uncertainty; but Kili could feel the way his body eased slowly into his side, slotting his long, thin body against him.

“Allow it?”  Elladan laughed, short and quick with surprise, his smile at odds with the tears that beaded the corners of his grey eyes.  “What a thing to ask me now!  I’ll be offended from now on if you call me anything else.”  

Maybe it was easier to laugh at the joy of being with him, than to cry at how inevitably short their time together would be.  So Elladan smiled up at him, and cupped Kili’s cheek in his hand, following the curve of his cheekbone with his thumb.  “Kili…”  He breathed his name like it was something sacred, the feather light touch skimming across the dwarf’s lower lip.

“Does it curse our luck if I kiss you?  Or it is more cursed if I let you go without?” 

...

A shiver ran down the dwarf’s spine as the ghost of breath ran over his lips and in an instant, his entire mouth went dry. Never in his life had he heard anyone say his name as sweetly as Elladan did; it felt as if his name was safe on the elf¨s lips and it sent his heart hammering even faster and almost loud enough he feared Elladan would hear it.

The question was a two-sided sword for no matter which option he’d choose, they would feel pain in one way or another. Yet with one option, the pain would at least be bittersweet.

“I would rather taste you once than wonder the rest of my life whether you taste as sweet as you smell,” Kili murmured, his voice deeper and rougher with emotion as he slid his fingers from Elladan’s neck to rest on the side of his face instead. The lack of facial hair should have startled him but instead, it felt almost natural; as if his hands had always known that his lover would be smooth and warm under his fingertips.

He knew that once they actually crossed the line, there would be no going back. If they did this, he could not pretend this entire evening did not happen. His heart would belong to Elladan no matter what happened. The thought while terrifying also woke a lingering sense of hope in his chest. He could feel his entire body tremble ever so slightly, and he knew he’d never been as nervous in his life before. 

Yet he knew he would not be judged for his wants.

“I think I’m actually going to die if I don’t know,” he added with a low chuckle and taking the question as permission, Kili closed the remaining inches between them and lightly pressed his lips over Elladan’s own.

...

Even as a child, Elladan had never passed the time by dreaming of his one-day lover; perhaps because he could never picture what they might be like. He would never have imagined the bold, squared Dwarven features or the rasp of a beard under his fingers.  Those strong hands wouldn’t have featured in any fantasy, because how could he have guessed?

Those daydreams would have seemed hollow and flat, while his soul craved something that was– until today– elusive.

“More than once.  I swear, I’ll kiss you again before you leave.”  Elladan’s breath jittered across his lips at the low rasp of Kili’s voice, in concert with the same shiver that slid down his spine.  A tangible tremor that Kili could feel against his side where they were pressed close together.

It felt like anticipation and nerves– a kiss was a promise, a line in the sand that could never be crossed again.  

And that when Kili left, he would take with him a piece of Elladan, freely given.

“Thank Elbereth for that… I might have had to kiss you anyway, and risked the ill luck!”

Whatever the next day would hold, their first kiss was sealed with joy.

Elladan’s eyes fell closed as they met each other in the halfway, feeling the curve of his smile against his mouth.  Cool fingers combed through Kili’s dark hair, bumping against the clasp of silver and stopping to pull him closer.  

His heart had never felt so fast, or so full, brimming over with a feeling he couldn’t hope to put into words.  There was only Kili, the touch of his hands and the warmth of his body sheltering them both from the midnight chill.  With flushed cheeks, Elladan rested his forehead against Kili’s again, feeling the lingering, phantom pressure of his lips.

“Your kisses are a dangerous thing.”  He breathed.  The world felt different– or himself different in it– his heart displaced by overwhelming new feeling.  “The world could turn to dust around me, and I’m not sure I’d notice.”

...

The answer was a definite yes; Elladan did taste just as sweet as he smelled like. Like a fruit he could not name but filled his heart with joy and he knew instantly he was hooked on that taste. The fact their thing was practically forbidden at least with his own kin only spurred Kili on, and he released a soft laugh as their kiss broke and he rested close to his new lover.

“I have to agree, I think I already got addicted to your taste,” he murmured smiling, nudging his nose against Elladan’s lightly. He didn’t dare part any further, didn’t want to feel the chill of the night and come back to reality. He only held Elladan closer, whispering soft promises and reassurances against the pale skin. Shy lips pressed tiny fluttering kisses over the fair face; his forehead, the tip of his nose and then once again on his lips.

Time did not exist at the moment, only the two of them with their hearts beating in the same rhythm. 

He knew that this only made leaving much harder in the morning.

But there under the stars in their own little world, he relished on the moment they shared, knowing the memory of it would keep him warm through the lonely nights and the promise they made would help him overcome whatever obstacle the journey threw his way.

...

One kiss lead to two, and five, and twenty; his lips skimming over Kili’s face as his beloved did the same.  He felt the solid bones beneath the warm skin, and the rough softness of his beard against his lips; the same stubble that grazed his cheeks when Kili returned his kisses.

The world could shatter around them, and the valley of Imladris could slide in to the sea, and there would be nothing in Elladan’s mind but Kili.  It was heady, a dizzying swoop of emotion that made his fingers tingle where they touched, and his breath come faster, short and quick between kisses.

“What madness is this?”  He laughed quietly, sinking back against the thick grass.  It smelled fresh and green, as dark in the night as the long strands of black hair that had escaped the plait that wound down Elladan’s back.  “What a lucky thing you yielded our competition earlier– this is one moment I would not have shared, not for all the world.”

With a careful touch, Elladan reached up to curl a loose lock of Kili’s hair around his fingers with a soft catch of his breath.  It was an intimacy among his own people, only your closest and dearest would touch your hair.  But his plait had already been worked loose by Kili’s fingers.  The thought that made him shiver pleasantly, his body flushed warm and unaware of the cooling night.

“Ithildinen…”  He murmured, and tightened his arm around Kili’s shoulders to pull him close again, “Half of my heart goes with you when you leave.  Keep it safe.”

...

“I won’t let anything happen to it,” Kili promised as he allowed the gentle tug to pull him back close to Elladan. He curled on the grass beside the elf, one arm resting over Elladan´s chest, the other behind his own head for support. He had never felt such peace in his entire life, and he dreaded to let the moment slip away. Here the only sounds were their own rapid breathing and the wind in the trees and it felt as if the outside world did not exist.

For a moment he could just let go and be himself.

Be selfish and enjoy the moment.

He wasn’t sure for how long they laid in the cool grass just talking quietly, stealing touches as if they would die if they parted for as long as a minute. Their shared laughter broke the silence now and then and Kili poured out his life for Elladan; everything from his childhood and how he’d lost his father to how he grew up with his mother and uncle, trying to be as good as his older brother. 

Trying to prove his worth as the prince and one of the Durins.

The words came out with surprising ease, and he knew his tales were safe with Elladan. Despite only knowing for such a short time, he felt as if he could trust his life in the elf´s hands.

...

Time slipped by, filled with the quiet stories of their lives.  They weren’t minstrel’s tales, to be told around the hearth at night– they were small, simple.  How it felt to be the younger brother, and the weight of expectation they both carried.  Stories of childhood mischief, and old loss.  

Elladan told Kili of how he and Elrohir had escaped the valley to find their mother when she’d been taken by orcs; and how they’d all survived, yes.. But Celebrian had never been the same, and how she’d chosen to take the boats West before the end of the year.

He spoke of little Arwen, and how strange it was to see her as a woman grown, instead of the elfling child that had learned to dance on his feet.  

Elrohir was a constant through them all, and most of Elladan’s tales were of ‘we’ and not ‘me’.  Elrohir who was older by minutes, and who was so much Elladan’s mirror that nobody could tell them apart.  

But eventually, even the most wonderful nights came to an end.

During the night, they’d draped their cloaks around themselves snugly, the two of them wrapped close beneath the heavy weight.  From his vantage point with his head pillowed on Kili’s chest, Elladan could see the sun on the far side of the valley, the lightening horizon that heralded dawn.  

“Light comes.” He sighed, breaking the comfortable silence they’d fallen into.  “Your company is going to be waiting for you, if they haven’t already noticed we’re gone.”  Propping himself on his elbow, Elladan gazed down at Kili, trying to imprint the image of him, bathed in the orange-pink of dawn, into his memory.

“Free your home, ithildinen, and write to me.  Do you promise?”

...

The dawn felt as if a death sentence had been laid upon them as the reminder that their time was over rose together with the sun. The light of the stars began to dim and what had been a dark void of starlight and water now became more green, the forms of the rocks and trees beginning to take shape around them. Gone was the comfortable bubble they had rested in, and with a wistful sigh, Kili pressed one last kiss on top of Elladan’s hair.

“I promise,” he said softly, regretfully nudging the elf over so that he could get up. Pins and needles instantly travelled through his legs for he had not gotten up for hours and he rubbed them with a groan. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave this wonderful elf behind with the risk of never seeing him again. The thought wound his chest tight as if he could not breathe properly, and an uncomfortable sensation rested in the pit of his stomach.

“I am fairly sure my brother noticed I hadn’t returned, as has my uncle. I expect some stern talk in my future,” he laughed shakily, offering his hand to Elladan to help the other up as well.

“But there’s nothing I would change of our night. It gave me hope I didn’t know I lacked and now I journey with a goal of my own.”

...

“Don’t despair.  It’s a… An absence.  Nothing more.  A temporary thing.” Elladan wasn’t sure which of them he was trying to console, but he had to believe his own words.  Otherwise the aching void in his chest would grow to consume him, fueled by grief and the fear that it would never end.

In the dawn light, Elladan watched as Kili picked himself up from the ground stiffly.  They were both young, but bodies weren’t meant to rest in the cold grass for hours!  “Are you going to tell them?”  He asked, and had half reached up for Kili’s hand before he thought better of it.  Elladan knew he would have to tell Elrohir, but the others?  He didn’t know…

They’d never understand.  How could they?  There was too much anger, too much foolish animosity, on both sides.

One corner of his mouth curved faintly as he looked at Kili’s offered hand, and the thin strip of his wrist where his sleeve had ridden back.  He shifted to a knee and dropped his hand to his boot, finding the small, silver knife he always kept there.  “Then let me send you with something to remind you of your goal.”

Taking a slow breath, Elladan reached back for the long, half unwound plait of black hair, the thick fall of it pooling on the ground.  With a flick of his knife, he sliced through one of the tiny braids that had been woven through it, and deftly tied the shorn edges so they wouldn’t fray.

It was smooth and glossy black, and Elladan wrapped it several times around Kili’s wrist, before tugging his sleeve down to hide it.  

“Come back to me safe, Kili… The dragon cannot have you.”

...

Before Kili had even realized what was going on, he felt the soft strands of Elladan’s hair around his wrist and his heart skipped a beat. If he looked closely, he could see the place where the elf had cut his hair; it stuck out as the wind picked up, and surely someone would see it eventually. Kili pulled his hand close to his chest, feeling the makeshift bracelet like a warm bond around his skin. Never in his life had he acquired something as special as this, and if he could he would have returned the favor. 

Alas, he did not braid his hair yet and that would surely raise questions he could not answer before the journey was over.

“I’ll come back,” he promised softly, cupping Elladan’s face into his hand. “I still have to return the favor after all,” he added with a small flick of his wrist, a content smile spreading on his lips. “I’m not going to let anything happen to this gift, it’ll bring me hope in the darkest of days.”

With a last peck on Elladan’s forehead he took a step back, trying to make his expression as neutral as he could. It would raise suspicions if he returned with a smile or a look of heartbreak in his eyes. The sun was already too high for his liking; he had to sneak back now before the rest of the company would wake up. He would already be in trouble with his family.

“As for your question… perhaps my brother shall know one day. But for now, this night will be mine alone. I’m possessive like that,” Kili winked.

...

Even new love, for all its’ power, couldn’t stop time.  The sun was already rising over the edge of the valley when Elladan vaulted gracefully up to his feet.  The urge to reach for Kili’s hand seemed the most natural thing in the world– but it was a habit neither of them could afford.

Not now.  Not yet.

Kili’s cheeky wink made Elladan’s heart feel lighter, and with a resigned sigh and a bittersweet smile, he nodded towards the path back to the Last Homely House.  “You’re all covered in grass, ithildinen, our families are going to think we passed the whole night finding trouble!”  Which wasn’t entirely untrue, just not in the way they would assume.

Reaching out, his skin tingling at the proximity, he brushed a few crushed, errant strands from his beloved’s dark hair.  They stained his fingers green, the same bright shade as the leaves with the early morning sunlight glowing through them.  Neither of them had slept, but Elladan’s heart felt quickened in his chest. 

Lighter than he’d feared.  But this was a temporary separation… He could accept no other alternative.

“If your possessiveness brings you back to me safe?  I welcome it.”

It was a quiet return to Imladris, both of them frayed and rumpled, with the same creased clothes as the night before.  As they approached the front gates, Elladan could already see the Dwarven company beginning to gather.  They were fed and rested, but Thorin’s gaze was already fixed to the road that would lead them away.  

...

He recognized the look Fili gave him; one of curiosity and a hint of worry, but Kili merely shook his head. He would talk with his brother later. But Thorin, oh his uncle looked utterly displeased and disappointed, and in any other situation that look would have hurt. But it felt nothing compared to the pain he felt now when he had to leave Elladan behind. He could no longer kiss or hold the elf, and was forced to leave Elladan with a small nod and a subtle touch of his own wrist, where the bound hair laid hidden.

A promise of return.

Kili dreaded the moment his family would demand answers, but fate had other plans for the company.

Out of Rivendell they went only to be encountered by Mountain Giants and goblins, their path leading down slippery rocks to the dark depths of the cave systems so complicated they almost got lost several times. They barely had the time to breathe the fresh air before orcs were upon them and for the first time ever Kili faced Azog, the one who had killed his family in the past and almost claimed Thorin’s life as well, if it hadn’t been for the hobbit.

Seeing the pale orc in flesh was horrifying; Kili knew he had a little chance of survival should he encounter the pale orc by himself. They had barely managed to escape with the entire company.

Their path lead to Mirkwood and its poisonous spiders and to Thorin’s dismay; more elves. But these were not as welcoming as the ones in Rivendell. Instead they were locked up as prisoners and Kili made acquaintances with another elf; a female called Tauriel. She spoke of starlight and dancing with the fire, and if his mind hadn’t been occupied by another certain elf already, perhaps he would have found her enchanting.

As it was, his mind only returned to Elladan.

The moment an orcis arrow pierced the muscle of his thigh, his thoughts once again returned to the fair elf of Rivendell. How furious Elladan would be if he found out he got injured, how his silver eyes would widen in worry and elvish mix into his words as he spoke. It was with the strength of the memory and promise that Kili pulled through the escape despite the wound and reached Lake Town with the rest of the company.

That’s when the poison hit his system, and he would have perished if it wasn’t for Tauriel and her healing.

Deemed as a burden for his injury, Kili was forced to stay behind in Lake Town while the company ventured to the mountain, and he wasn’t surprised that Fili had told that he’d stay behind as well.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, they could finally take a day to breathe and in Kili’s case, recover.

“I feel guilty for this,” Kili admitted as he sat on the hard couch, a hand resting over the wound. “I worry so many with this, even if the action helped us forward. But I fear I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

...

Since leaving the damned Elven city, it seemed like everything had gone from bad to worse.  They’d been captured, imprisoned– their narrow escape at the hands of the bloody Hobbit… Not that Fili had a problem with Bilbo, he liked the little fellow.  But the world seemed dark and angry, and Fili felt like he was fighting a dead end.

And his brother saying stupid things like that wasn’t helping!

“Don’t you dare.”  Fili stated, his heavy footsteps making the ancient floorboards creak in time with his restless pacing.  His voice was grim and flat, and his gaze turned to the window as he spoke.  Would their Uncle have reached the mountain by now?  And what would be there when he did?

“This isn’t your fault.  None of it.  Do you understand me?”  He added fiercely.  With a heavy thud of wool, Fili threw off the cloak he’d been wearing since he’d returned, draping the damp mass of it by the fire to dry.  It felt like accepting their situation, when all he wanted to do was rage against the unfairness of it all.

“It was that damned orc!  And Uncle had no right to leave you behind.  If I have to hear any more of that, I’m going to drown you!  This place has plenty of water.  Even men aren’t supposed to live on water.”

With roughly caring hands, Fili fixed his brother’s blanket around him, the same way he’d always done.  “If Amad saw you like this, she’d beat me for letting you get hurt.”  He muttered.  “And you’ve been mooning over that elf.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed!”

...

At the mention of Elladan, Kili felt the familiar heat rise on his face despite the soreness of his body. It seemed like the elf had control of his heart and body even if said body was struggling against a poison. Perhaps he’d let Elladan know one day.

“This has nothing to do with them,” Kili countered quietly, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. So they were going to have that talk now, huh? At least there were no curious ears of their company trying to pick up what they were saying. Perhaps he should start with his brother, see how he reacted to the idea.

After all, Fili already knew. 

He always did before anyone else.

“I did what I had to in order to get us free, and I was careless enough to not pay attention to my surroundings,” he added, resting his head back against the pillows that thankfully had replaced the walnuts Fili had first placed underneath his head. “And uncle was right. I would only slow them down if I had joined,” he murmured bitterly. He didn’t like it, but he had to admit defeat.

And Fili seemed irritated if the scowl was anything to go by, which made the younger of the two smile a bit. Fili had always had his back, no matter the situation. He couldn’t stay angry at their uncle forever.

“…So what is your opinion of the elf?”

...

Kili was right, of course– there was nothing in the world that would keep Fili mad at their uncle forever.  But in the short term?  Well, the older brother had inherited the Durin temper, and it wasn’t the first time he and Thorin had been at odds!  

It never lasted.  His mother always said they were too much alike, too aware of the responsibilities laid on their shoulders, and too willing to take on more when needed.  And much too aware that they were the older brothers, and must take care of their siblings.  Fili didn’t regret staying behind, and he’d meant what he said : his place was with his brother.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t all but chewing gravel over it!

“You wouldn’t have.”  Fili insisted, hunkering down beside his brother’s couch.  “Even if I’d have to carry you up the side of the mountain on my back, you wouldn’t have slowed them down.  Uncle might have the brains of an orc, but I know better.  I know how stubborn you are.”

And how stubborn they were together.  

With a grunt, Fili reached for the fireplace poker and gave the flames a vigorous stir, churning the coals back to life with a chorus of crackling pops.  “My opinion?  They’re an elf.  What do you want me to say?  Tall, skinny, they all look the same.”

Which wasn’t entirely true.  Loyal he might be, but it was a brother’s prerogative to tease!  “What is your opinion?  Where I see brass, do you see gold?”

...

Knowing his brother, he really would have carried him up the mountain if it had come to that. The thought warmed his soul, and Kili couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s back as he angrily poked the flames back to life. He had compared Fili to fire many times before, and this was one of those times he found himself once again thinking of his brother as the unyielding flames.

Always finding a way through obstacles, no matter what.

And yet, he knew the tone of voice Fili used on him. He had used it many times before when fishing for answers; especially when they had been younger. It’s how Fili got him to spill all of the pranks he had done and instead of reprimanding him, Fili had told him to come get him the next time so he would show how to properly prank another dwarf.

Needless to say, they were a bunch of rascals in their town.

“I suppose so,” he answered after a moment of thought, tilting his head back so he could stare at the dark wood of their ceiling. “I wasn’t expecting it to be honest. Mahal, neither one of us were. But something just… Clicked. Like when Ma used to tell how she knew Pa was the one for her. I think I felt something similar,” Kili admitted tentatively.

...

Fili had seen the way his brother looked at the elf-woman, but he hadn’t had time to dwell or worry much on what it might mean.  The pointy eared folk were fair, in their own way.  Pale and slender as willow trees, with eyes that were altogether too bright and clear.  

But it was an untouchable sort of beauty– and he’d thought his brother had the sense to leave it that way!  

Fili’s blond brows beetled in as he looked at Kili, the amusement in his expression quickly swallowed up by doubt and suspicion.  He couldn’t mean– no, that wasn’t possible.  Mahal knew his brother was prone to flights of curious fancy, just look at how he’d carried on with that elf back in the valley, that prince!  But the way Kili was talking about that elf-woman…

Slowly he shook his head, like he was trying to rattle the bits of information around in his head until they made sense.  And then again, because it still didn’t!

“Clicked.”  He repeated, the braided corners of his golden beard drawn down with his frown.  This all sounded much more serious than he’d expected!  Blast all elves and their pointy ears!

“Kili, tell me you haven’t done something stupid.  That you haven’t gone and lost your heart to an elf!”

...

He had expected some wariness. He had expected some curse words, perhaps his brother accusing him of losing his mind or being bewitched.

But the way he spat out the word ‘elf’ made the hairs stand up on the back of Kili’s neck and he felt an uncomfortable coil in the pit of his stomach, as if he was getting sick. Clearly struggling the younger of the two pushed himself up from the couch, his arms trembling with the strain. He refused to lay down for this conversation, no matter how weak he felt.

Dark eyes blazed despite the tiredness as he met his brother’s gaze, the usually healthy skin now sickly pale and sweaty as he pressed his lips together in a thin line and sucked in a breath through his nose. If he had to fight Fili for this, he would. Not many things would make him raise his voice against his own brother, but this tentative relationship made his protective instincts rise.

“And what if I did? Are you claiming I’ve been put under an elven spell? Or that I’ve hit my head? I know what I felt, nadad. I’ve never felt anything like that in my entire life.”

...

“Lie down, lie down, sand for brains!”  Fili said in a rush, reaching out to take his brother’s shoulder before the stubborn fool could get himself any more hurt.  “Your elf might have stopped the poison, but you’ve still got a damned hole in you!”

And if conceding defeat (after a fashion, they still had to talk about this!) was the only way to get his brother to keep still?  He would.  He wouldn’t like it, but some things were just more important.  

Like keeping his brother with him.

Fili wasn’t ready to consider how close he had come to losing him, and how raw his nerves still felt.  

“I’m not saying any of that– now lie down before you open your blasted wounds again!”  With a ragged huff, Fili pushed his brother back against the thick stack of mismatched pillows, his eyes sparking with temper and all but daring him to argue the point.  

Kili was his responsibility, as he’d always been.  But they were far from home, and Thorin had left them.  Someone had to keep him safe… And Fili had already failed his brother once.

Squaring his shoulders, Fili stood up and paced over to the wood pile to grab another log, needing something useful to occupy his hands (more useful that throttling his brother).  “Mahal… You’re in love.”  He said in disbelief, hefting up the log.

“Explain it to me, nadadith.  I’m not saying you haven’t hit your head, but I’ll listen.”

...

He wanted to fight.

He wanted to argue, to make Fili understand what he meant and how he felt. His brother demanding him to lay down and forcibly pushing him back on the couch only added more fuel to the flame, and Kili struggled for a moment before the pain became too much and he had to admit defeat.

His entire body kept shaking as he tugged at his sleeve which covered the gift he had received, searching comfort from the thought of his lover.

Fili hadn’t given up, but at least he seemed willing to listen.

“It began as a joke,” Kili finally sighed, releasing a small hiss as he pressed against his wound to make sure the bandages were not wet, making sure the wound hadn’t opened during his struggles. “But after we spent that night together just talking, it grew into something more. It happened so fast, Fee. It felt right to hold their hand, or feel them close.”

He wasn’t quite ready to admit the kisses yet, Mahal knew his brother would get another fit if he knew an elf had taken his first kiss.

“When we parted, I promised I’d send a word once we reclaim the mountain so we could meet again. Leaving them hurt. The thought of not seeing them again hurt. Every thought of not being able to be with them hurt more than any wound I’ve received.”

He glanced down at his thigh with a wry grimace. “Though I must admit, this is a close second.”

...

Mahal, he didn’t want to hear this!  He didn’t want to think about losing his brother to some elf– or anyone else, for that matter!– not when he still looked pale and clammy, and could hardly move for the pain of his wounds.  Fili had never known fear like he’d felt over his brother’s sickness, and the shadow of it still hung heavily around him.

But he’d given his word to listen, and so he squared his shoulders, and did as he’d promised.

Them.  They.  That night together.

I’d send word.  Leaving them… Leaving them?

Long before the end of Kili’s explanation, Fili had a terrible sinking feeling.  It settled in his belly like a piece of granite, sharp edged and cold with foreboding.  Because the elf-woman had barely left, and even a heart like Kili’s couldn’t be aching for her loss so keenly, not so soon!  

And the only night they’d spent ‘together’ was in the elven prison– and there had been no jokes there!

Fili’s heartfelt groan was half smothered by the thud-crack of the fresh log he threw on the fire, and the crackle of sparks that raced up the chimney. Even had he wanted to be angry (and he did!  It would be so much easier) it was impossible hold onto his ire when Kili called him by his child-name.  Manipulative little goblin.

The end of the hard couch creaked when Fili finally sank down on the end, using the excuse of fixing his brother’s blanket over his feet.  “And here I thought the elf-maid was the problem!”  He muttered, a deep crease between his brows.  “But it’s been longer than that, hasn’t it?  That prince, in the elven valley.  The one you vanished with all night.”

Fili didn’t even want to say it, but loyalty to his brother outweighed all other considerations.  “If you weren’t already hurt, Kee, I’d beat you myself!”

He wouldn’t.  

“Why in Mahal’s name didn’t you tell me?”

...

Kili blinked tiredly at his brother and it took a while for his sluggish mind to realize what Fili meant. And when he did, he couldn’t help but crack a smile that turned into a laugh which again turned into a wheezing cough. “You thought I had lost my heart to Tauriel?” He gasped between gasps of breath, the familiar light in his eyes returning for a brief moment at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

No wonder Fili had seemed pissed when Tauriel had appeared out of nowhere, even if she did save his life.

Each breath he sucked in hurt like tiny knives carving into his lungs, and he hid the pain as much as he could. He was already hurting Fili, he didn’t want him to worry further. Guilt ate him from the inside, twisting his gut into knots as he thought of how his brother had to feel right now.

“I couldn’t, not at first,” he said softly once he had caught his breath, and with his other hand he reached out to cover Fili’s own in a reassuring gesture. “A part of me wished to keep it to myself for a while so I could get use to the thought as well. As right as it felt, I wasn’t expecting it. I wanted to sort my head first as I had a lot to think about.”

Like how he’d tell his family, how he would make them believe how serious he was about pursuing the relationship that had grown between him and Elladan.

“It began as a joke by the table, try to see how far we could push boundaries before one of our elders would snap and grew into something much more once we were by ourselves. Before we knew it, the night had passed.”

...

It made sense, which all the more hateful because Fili supposed he would have done the same in that situation.  Not that he had any intention of falling in love with anyone, much less an elf!  But then, his brother certainly hadn’t expected it, either.  And you couldn’t control who your heart chose– that was, apparently, the magic of it.

Fili had his doubts.

His expression darkened when Kili’s laughter turned to wheezing, his hand gripping his protectively.  If he ever got his hands on the beast that had dared to hurt his little brother, he’d beat him into a pulp and feed him to whatever fell fish lived in this damned lake.  

It didn’t matter that there was no way Fili could have stopped it.  His brother had been hurt, that was the only thing he cared about.

“Stop laughing, you’ll tear your stitches.  And I won’t be the one tying your strings back together!”  He would.  If he had to.  But Fili’s skills with a sewing needle were notoriously bad!  He’d probably end up stitching his brother's hand to his belly, or something equally inconvenient!

With a long suffering sigh, he pushed his brother’s hand aside and grabbed the edge of the blanket, peeling it back so he could take a look at the bandages that wound around him.  

No blood, thank all the Gods.

“I remember.  Dwalin was going to throttle me for letting you leave with him.”  Fili cracked the very smallest of smiles, but there was something a little warmer in his voice.  Oh, he wasn’t happy, not at all– but there was precious little to be happy about, these days.

“If this elf makes you happy, Kee…”  His words clotted in his throat.  He wanted to tell his brother that he supported him, that he’d stand by him no matter what.  But what if that wasn’t what Kili wanted?  Fili coughed and tried to clear his throat.

“Are you planning to live in that valley of his?”

...

“We haven’t thought that far ahead,” Kili chuckled tiredly, his skin breaking into goosebumps as Fili pulled his blanket back. He was getting exhausted and a part of him hated how weak he felt at the moment. He wished to be more useful, to try to get ready to join the others by the mountain but knew he needed more rest before he could do that.

After Fili had checked on the wound, Kili tugged the blanket back up over his shoulders and squirmed a bit to get into a somewhat comfortable position. “We don’t know where this goes or what we’ll do. We just know we both want to pursue this thing we feel,” he said, and for a moment the tired edges of Kili’s eyes softened.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but there’s little privacy to be had in our company and we didn’t really have the time to stop and talk either. You know I’d never leave without a word, right? Trust me nadad, if my path leads me away from our kingdom sometime in the future, that doesn’t mean you’ll get rid of me. I’ll be that annoying thorn in your arse until grave calls us,” he teased lightly, the corner of his lip rising up into a smirk.

“And even beyond I’m sure I’d find a way to drive your spirit insane, as it’s my duty as your younger brother.”

After all, there was no Kili without Fili. He had grown with his older brother after their father’s passing, and didn’t remember much else than following Fili’s footsteps as a child, as a youth and a young adult. He had always tried to be as good as his brother, and still felt lost when they were apart. Like at the mountains with the giants and the ground had split them apart; Kili had wanted to cry out for Fili, but had frozen in terror.

“Even if I am to find a love, you’ll always be the most important person in my life, Fee.”

He snickered and closed his eyes. “Now let me sleep before I start to spit out more mush at you.”

...

“Hush, sand for brains.  Of course I’m not going to be lucky enough to get rid of you.  Even the bloody rock giants couldn’t manage it, what chance does one skinny elf?”  Fili’s voice was low and gravely with emotion when he tucked his brother’s blanket more securely around him once more.

Tauriel had saved his life.  And the prince had given him another reason to keep fighting.  Whatever their people might think of elves, Fili knew he’d never be able to hold the same animosity towards them.

“Go to sleep, you’re obviously mad from the pain.”

For a long time after, Fili sat by the hearth, stirring the coals with the blackened end of the poker.  From infancy, they’d been raised on the same stories of the kingdom the dragon had claimed.  One day, Thorin had said, they would journey to the far mountain to take back their birthright from the beast.  To reclaim the halls where he, and their mother, had come into the world.

Fili had never imagined their home, any home, without his brother in it.

But if this elf made Kili happy?  

“You couldn’t find a nice Dwarf lass, could you?  No, you had to make things hard for yourself.  And for me.”  He added, since his brother was asleep.  For the first time in what seemed like forever, Fili found himself alone with his thoughts.  There were no orcs breaking down the doors, or the presence of the rest of the Company.

Just himself, and the crackling hearth, and the sound of his brother’s sleep-quiet breathing.

If his brother loved this elf, it wasn’t the same as losing him to death.  And if he knew that Kili was still in the world, and happy?  Maybe it wouldn’t be as they wanted, or as they’d planned; but he could be happy for him.  He could endure.

So long as he was alive. 

Mahal, watch over him.  Because it was the only thing that mattered.

...

The poison might be cleared out of his system, but the effects still lingered. If asked, he could not say for certain what had happened next. One minute he was laying on the couch after their talk with his brother and the next thing he knew a dragon flew over the town, lighting it aflame.

The air filled with screams of terror and the scent of burning flesh in minutes and it made Kili’s stomach turn around with nausea.

By some miracle they managed to cross the lake with the boats, and the last thing he saw before passing out was the orange glow of the sky and the earshattering roar of the dragon.

They had thought the worst was over by then, but of course fate had once again other plans for them.

Once they had finally reached the mountain and reunited with their company, they were told Thorin had succumbed to the feared gold sickness. It hurt his heart to see his uncle driven mad by something so mundane, how his eyes were blank and lips constantly muttering out curses and praises towards the gold. No matter what he tried to do or say, Thorin did not listen.

Pale and shaking, Kili sat down to rest and used the chance to write the promised letter to Elladan. Though his heart was heavy, a spark of hope and joy still lit up at the thought of the elf as he scribbled across the paper.

“The mountain has been claimed and I’m more or less in one piece. Rough times ahead, but I’m hoping they’ll be cleared by the time you arrive. Looking forward to seeing you again. I hope you’re doing well, lukhudel.

Kili, son of Durin”

He sent the letter with a raven, and watched wistfully as it flew across the pale sky. Now all he could do was wait, and figure out how to help his uncle. They couldn’t rebuild the kingdom without him.

...

Imladris was quiet.  

The weight of it was heavy on Elladan’s shoulders, a millstone around his neck that made it difficult to breathe.  How strange it was that a decade of mortal men could pass, and Elladan scarcely noticed it– but every day since the Company had departed from the Last Homely House seemed to stretch on into eternity.

Elrohir had known, from the very moment he’d seen him, that something had changed in his brother.  But they had come into the world together, and had even as more of their people left for the boats to the west, he knew where his place was.  Eru had crafted them as two halves of a whole, and whole they would stay.

“Gwenur!  Tiria!”  Elrohir’s voice cut the stillness an instant before the tip of his blade would have caught his twin in the shoulder.  With a tight sigh, he sheathed his sword and affectionately cuffed Elladan’s shoulder, “Even in the middle of a fight you’re thinking of nothing but him.  Be glad I’m no orc!”

Elladan dragged himself back to the moment, banishing the errant ‘I pray he’s alright’ that had been nagging at the back of his mind for days.  It felt like an ill omen to voice it aloud, but he wasn’t surprised his twin had noticed.  “Goheno nin, gwenur.  My thoughts are elsewhere.”

“Lost in a pair of dark eyes, I think!  Ai- Elladan, look.”  He interrupted himself and motioned to the sleek black raven circling the valley, spiraling down and down towards them, “It carries a note.”

With a thanks to the bird, Elladan unrolled the note, his hands unsteady with relief.  “They’ve taken the mountain.”  He explained, his head bowed beneath the sudden rush of air, the first breath he’d taken since Kili had left.  He hadn’t forgotten.

“You travel east, then?”

Elladan nodded, and for half a heartbeat, his gaze sought out Elrohir’s in the twilight, “At first light, if Ada gives me leave.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“… Then at noon, after I’ve convinced him.”

Elrohir mirrored his brother’s nod, and nudged his shoulder as they turned back from the training grounds.  “We’ll travel through the Greenwood, and see if the rumours are true.  Even Ada won’t deny the wisdom in that.”

.

The ring of steel on steel was deafening, and the air smelled of blood and churned earth.  The sons of Elrond had arrived to the valley of Dale to find, not peace, but a gold maddened king barricaded in his mountain and the armies of foul orcs descending on the townspeople.  The town on the lake had been laid to waste, and wet ash still smeared the landscape.

The orcs had broken the Elven line early in the battle, their sheer numbers crashing over the forces of the Mirkwood.  They splintered through the ruins of Dale like a roaring black sea, slaughtering warriors and terrified townspeople in their wake.

“Why does Thorin not leave his halls?!”  Elrohir snapped to his twin, the two of them standing back to back amidst the bloody fray.  “These Dwarves, they fight for him, and he’s nowhere to be seen!”

They were a blur of glittering silver steel and grey cloaks, in perfect symmetry as they fought together.  “Don’t ask questions I cannot answer!”  Elladan countered, his blade slicing passed his brother to block a blow aimed at his head.  

Elrohir’s snapped beneath Elladan’s to catch the orc in the belly, gore spilling over the sodden ground.  “We have to find higher ground, gwenur!  There are just too many of them!”

...

How things had turned from good to the worst, he had no idea.

It seemed as if everything had happened in mere hours; his uncle’s gold sickness, the anger of the people, the elves and orcs at their doors.

He could hear the dying shouts of humans and orcs alike, the clash of steel and the very earth shook underneath their feet. Yet Thorin refused to let them out, refused to open the gates to help the people who were fighting their battles for them. The dwarves could do nothing than stand by the wall in their armors and stare down at the massacre happening on their land, each one itching to get out on the field and protect what was theirs.

It wasn’t until Kili caught the familiar sight of insignia on one of the armors that his heart seized and all breath left his lungs; those elves were from Rivendell which meant there was a chance Elladan was down there.

Despair and fear took control of his body and a flame of rage rose within the dwarf, and he found himself shouting at his uncle, demanding for the gates to be open and for them to be allowed to join the fight. Whether it was his words or something else, there seemed to be clarity back in Thorin’s eyes and in mere minutes, they had joined the war.

Kili fought beside his brother, the two completing each other’s attacks as they took down enemies left and right, blood spilling on the ground. In the back of his mind, Kili worried, fearing his very heart would burst as they ran past the fallen elves begging he would not see the face of his lover on the soiled earth. Their path lead to one of the watchtowers, and as they were rising the stairs Fili froze for a second before turning to his younger brother.

“Go down, I’ll check upstairs.”

“What? Don’t be silly, what if there’s–”

“There’s no time! You need to find the one occupying your mind. Find him, Kili. I’ll be fine.”

Kili hesitated, teeth grit together as his gaze flickered between his brother and the door. A tiny smile was given to him and the brunette turned with a heavy heart, his grip of the sword tightening. It felt as if he was torn apart, having to choose in split second where his heart lead him. Fili had always been by his side, had always helped him and kept him safe. He could handle himself, Kili knew this. But if something was to happen to Fili if he left… But what if something happened to Elladan, something he could prevent?

What if he lost them both because of his hesitation?

With a curse, the dwarf sprint down the hallway but not without a last glance at his brother.

“You better not die on me!”

...

Elven steel cut through stinking orc hides as the twins fought their way up the craggy slope to higher ground.  Blood slicked the uneven stones, and the smell of dying orc was even more potent than when they were alive; their foul juices splattering the path.  Foot by foot they gained precious ground, leaving a swath of orc bodies in their wake.

Ranged weapons were useless here, but Elladan was grateful for the weight of his bow and quiver on his back; whenever possible, he preferred to pick off orc scum from an elevation.  

Elves were immortal, not invincible. And Elladan had no intention of dying that day!

Elladan was breathing hard by the time they reached one of the rocky platforms, the ground scorched in places. It looked like the remains of ancient signal fires– and from this height, the twins could see the tide of the battle.  “We need to break their lines of communication.” He said grimly, half concealed by a rock wall as he and Elrohir studied the fighting. “Even with Thorin and his men joining the fight, it may not be enough.”

Ai Valar, let him live…

Even Elven eyes couldn’t make out single figures in the fray; a sole Dwarf in the bloody crowd.

Silently, Elrohir jerked a thumb towards the higher peak, where one of the orcish war machines clacked and rattled, waving signal banners with foul orc sigils.  “There, gwenur.”

In unison the twins rose to their feet, and had half turned to the steeper path when their ears caught the sound of steps.  The weak, cold sunlight caught on the gleaming arrowhead as Elrohir drew his bow, the arrow leveled at the entrance. This part of the mountain was  riddled with holes and tunnels– a bad place to be caught in a fight. “Come out!”  He demanded, his arrow never lowering an inch, even when his twin touched his shoulder cautioningly.

They didn’t sound like Orc footsteps…

...

To say Fili was surprised to run into the elven twins would be an understatement. The relief of finding an ally soon turned into horror, however, as the blond realized he had turned his brother into the opposite direction in search of this very elf in front of him.

“Kili went in the opposite direction!” He shouted, running up to the twins. “I thought there to be danger here so I sent him away for his safety!”

—

It was hard to see in the mids of the chaos; everywhere his gaze landed there were only death and suffering, fallen comrades and scattered weapons mixed together with what once had been orcs and Mahal knew what other creatures. The longer it took him to find Elladan, the more desperate the dwarven prince grew as he frantically cut through the enemies, praying with every fiber of his body that his elf remained safe.

Despite his brother’s warnings, Kili had run up the side of the mountain in hopes of gaining more advance towards the battle. There were fewer people fighting on the tilted earth and the old ruins, so he stopped for a moment to catch his breath and hopefully recover a bit of his strength.

His eye caught movement on the left and he barely blocked the swing of a heavy mace, his feet slipping on the loose rocks of the ruins. This orc was larger than the others, his face scarred and lips twisted in a bloodthirsty grin and his heart plummeted as he recognized the orc in question; Bolg, son of the Defiler. 

...

Things happened in the pitch of battle, but Elladan hadn’t come all this way– he hadn’t faced the distance, or the desecration of the Mirkwood, just to loose Kili now.  If this were one of the ancient tales, he would have rushed off into the fray like Glorfindel or Ecthelion, sword raised to defend the one he loved.

But this was no story. And Elladan had no intention of letting Kili lose him.  There was still too much undecided between them, too much distance.  Too many aching miles trying to erase the sweet memories of their hasty night together.  No– this was not how their story would end.  

With unnatural Elven silence, the twins made their way down the incline towards the far side of the fighting.  Fili took the path back the way he’d come, intending to cut the orcs off from flanking them.  After all, a Dwarf could fight in the close, bottlenecked tunnels more easily than any Elf.

“Gwenur- thír!”  Elrohir grabbed his brother’s arm, stopping them both above a steep outcropping.  Below, they could see the looming, hideous bulk of Bolg– but more importantly, of the orcs sneaking up the other path.

“A trap.”  Elladan whispered, and exchanged a look with his brother.  They had always fought side by side, but there was no way they could cover both advances at once.  

“Go, save him.  I’ll hold off the others, and we’ll double back and rejoin that other dwarf.”  Elrohir’s cheek pressed hard to Elladan’s in a single moment of wordless devotion, before they parted.  

From Kili’s point of view, there was no warning when the orc suddenly reared back a step, pierced by the keen head of an elven arrow.  The shaft quivered with the force, black blood welling up around the dark Rivendell wood.  “Ai, ithildinen!  I turn away for a moment and find you hanging around this hideous creature?”

In a streak of grey cloak and black hair, Elladan skirted the edge of the wall and dropped down beside Kili, bow drawn and another arrow nocked.  As much as he wanted to take in his lover’s face, to prove to himself that he was safe, Elladan didn’t dare take his gaze off the enraged orc.

“Sorry I’m late, there was a lot of ugly in the way.”

...

To say Kili wanted to weep would be an understatement. 

The confusion of the orc’s pained roar turned into pure relief and joy as he recognized the sound of the elf who had joined him, as it was hard for him to see properly through the blood that covered his left eye. If it hadn’t been for Elladan’s appearance, he would surely have gotten injured worse than a mere slash on his forehead.

“Things are a lot uglier up here it seems,” Kili responded with a laugh that seemed to irritate the orc even further, for it swung for the both of them. With renewed vigor, the dwarf blocked the strike with ease and cut the creature’s upper arm in progress. It seemed to only fuel his anger as Kili was forced to roll aside to dodge, dirt caking over the blood in progress. At least it slowed the bleeding.

“I wish I could properly greet you but now is not the time– not before we fell this thing. He’s not like the others, so don’t make me lose you now.”

 ...

There was nothing in the world Elladan hated as much as orcs, and he’d spent much of his life ridding the world of their foul corruption.  Bolg, son Azog, had no comprehension of the mistake he’d made by challenging the man Elladan loved, or the mountain the Dwarves had already fought so hard to reclaim.

The second arrow caught the orc in the side of the neck, his corded muscles bunching as he roared in a fury.  Like a great beast he squared his shoulders and charged at Kili and Elladan, bristling with arrows, his hideous, flat face set in a snarling rage.

“I’ll put a proper greeting on your account, you can pay the balance of it when we’ve dealt with the vermin!”

Swinging his bow back onto his back, Elladan drew his blade and braced with a deep slash, covering Kili’s rolling dodge.  They’d never fought together, but neither man was a stranger to battle, and the drive to protect Kili thrummed hard and fast in Elladan’s veins.

But Bolg was no green recruit, and he knew how to use his towering strength to good advantage.  

With a sweep of his massive hand, Bolg caught Elladan by the throat, his filthy fingers locked viciously in place.  Elladan slashed back as he was wrenched violently from his feet, but his blade was deflected by a piece of Bolg’s mismatched armor, and the slice wasn’t deep enough to do much harm.

...

“Elladan!”

The dwarf did not think before acting, the impulse, and yearning to keep Elladan safe sending adrenaline through his body as he slammed his entire weight at the orc. Of course, it didn’t even make the filth stumble but at least he paid more attention to Kili now.

“Come on, it’s me you want! You want to wipe out our line? Try starting with me!”

The words fell from his lips with no second thought, his vision zeroing completely on Bolg as he lifted his blade and charged at the creature once again. Bolg released his hold of Elladan, dropping the elf on the ground so he could deflect the incoming attack. The clash of their weapons connecting was deafening and Kili felt his muscles tremble under the weight of each strike, his body still weaker than usual because of the orcish poison he had been hit in during his escape from Mirkwood.

But he did not care and pushed through the pain, leaping from the rock at the orc.

He could not let Elladan suffer because of him.

It all happened so fast that it wasn’t until he tasted copper in his mouth that he realized he had been caught.

A tight grip around his throat made each breath he took feel like a struggle, and the pain he felt through his entire body was white, blinding. He could not scream from agony, the sound gurgling in the back of his throat instead as his other hand released the hold of his sword. His vision swam and he blinked the tears from his eyes, gaze searching for Elladan. Despite his efforts to smile he was rather sure it came out as a grimace, his fingers trembling as he reached out for his elf.

The sound of Bolg’s victorious laugh was drowned under the rush of blood in his ears.

He jerked as the sharp end of the mace was pulled out of his abdomen with a sickening squelch and his body fell limp on the ground, blood seeping between the rocks underneath.

...

Later on, Elladan wouldn’t be able to describe that moment clearly.  Time felt suspended and slow as Kili slumped to the ground, blood staining the frost covered stones. He could hear the pounding of his own blood in his ears, deafening and sick.  Bolg’s laughter was a hideous thing as he raised his mace, already stained red, and raised it high to finish the elf that had shot him.

Every fragment of his soul screamed for Kili, but Elladan held his place, grim-faced and breathing hard.  If he ran to his love now, the only thing it would earn was another trophy for the orc army.  And one less person to defend Fili and Elrohir.

As Bolg’s mace swept down, Elladan pushed off from the stones, his body low as he ducked beneath the orc’s weapon, behind the line of his defense. Blood and viscera spilled from the creature’s belly as cold Elven steel slid between the plates of his armor, rending him open like a gutted fish.

“Avo thano rûth vi gûr alfirin!”  He hissed under his breath, and orc growled, enraged by the language that scalded his cursed ears.  

The mace came down again, but Bolg’s great reach worked against him, and with a wet, choking bellow, he dropped to his knees.  

Elladan’s sword clattered beside Kili’s body as he rushed to his side, bloodied fingers searching his neck for a pulse. “Wake up… Wake up!”  His voice broke, and frantic hands tried to assess the damage the beast had done.  “You can’t die on me, meleth nín… Not after all this. You have to live, and you have to see the end of the battle, so you can walk with your people back into your mountain. You’ve come so far… And you’re so close to the end.  You have to live-  do you hear me?’

“Wake up!”

 (Avo thano rûth vi gûr alfirin! : Never kindle anger in an immortal heart

Meleth nín : my love.)

...

The moment Kili’s consciousness returned, his body seized up in pain and a shaky whine left his cracked lips. His mouth tasted foul and the scent of herbs was strong in the air, making him feel nauseous. He could hear hurried steps approach him but could not make out what the person was saying; however, he felt a cup pressing against his lips and soon bitter liquid slid down his throat, forcing a weak cough and a grimace out of him.

His eyelids felt heavy and his body refused to listen to his command to move, the memories of what had happened foggy as a fleeting dream. He remembered parting from his brother, then ending up against Bolg and… Elladan.

Fear of the unknown sent enough adrenaline through his body for him to struggle into a sitting position and even if the light of the infirmary felt harsh in his eyes he could still see the healers fret around him, telling him to lay back down so his wounds would not open again. A light touch over his stomach told him about the tight bandage keeping his insides where they should be, and his forehead seemed to be stitched as well.

“Elladan, where’s…”

“He’ll be here soon, now that you’re awake.”

The dwarf lifted his head up to meet the relieved gaze of his brother, who limped over to him with braces; his right leg seemed to be in a cast and a bang of guilt shot through Kili. If he had gone with his brother, could he have prevented him from being hurt?

“None of that,” Fili huffed resting his hand over Kili’s head, lightly ruffling his hair. “I can see you’re blaming yourself, but there’s no reason for it. I should be the one who is sorry, I nearly sent you to your death,” he said quietly, fingers trembling as he pulled Kili carefully closer into an awkward hug. “They weren’t sure if you’d wake up again and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my brother. I’m sorry, Kee.”

“We’re both alive. We’re… all alive?” Kili asked carefully and when Fili nodded, he couldn’t help but chuckle in relief; which in turn sent him wheezing in pain and the healers to once again fret over him, telling him to lay down. 

...

The day after the battle had been one of the most frustrating of Elladan’s life.  It hadn’t mattered that the sons of Elrond had come to the Dwarves aid in their hour of need, or that they’d saved the lives of Thorin’s nephews.  That they’d slain Bolg, son of Azog.  Or that they’d stumbled down the side of the mountain along with Fili and the unconscious Kili, the four of them bloodied and leaning against one another.

The Dwarves had taken one glance at the twins, and their Elven features, and the doors had been closed to them.

Wounded and frustrated, the twins had taken shelter with the army from the Mirkwood, grimly patching their wounds and waiting for word from the mountain.  Even for an immortal, those hours seemed endless; Elladan could feel the pieces of himself that lingered too close to the edge of death, and prayed to every God individually and by name, that Kili would survive.

It was late in the next day that the twins finally received word from Fili that his brother had awakened, a fierce joy unfolding in Elladan’s chest.  He lived, thank the Valar!  And with fresh determination, the twins scaled the path to the doors of the lonely mountain once more.

From the Halls of Healing, Kili could hear Elladan’s voice a few hours later, rich with stubborn mirth– and counterpointed by Dwalin’s angry gruffness, and Oin’s clench-jawed terseness.  “You can let me in to see him, or I can sit in your tunnels until you grow weary of my presence.”  He argued, undaunted by Dwalin’s reddening complexion.

“We’re already tired of you, elf.  And we’ve no more need of your services.  Stick to your own kind and let us care for ours.”

Fili looked up from his sentry at his brother’s side, and heaved a leaden sigh, “Don’t move, sand for brains,” He admonished, and jabbed his thumb towards the door, “I’ll fetch him for you.”  Fili didn’t think his brother could get up, not yet. But he didn’t want Kili tearing out his stitches in the attempt, either!

...

The sound of his lover’s determined if mirthful voice sent Kili’s heart racing and he offered his brother a small nod and a smile before settling back on the bed much to the healers relief. 

Elladan was alright. 

If he had the strength to speak that way to Dwalin, surely he had been taken care of as well. A memory of Bolg’s hand around his elf’s throat made him shiver unpleasantly, and he had to remind himself that Bolg was dead now, as was the Pale Orc. From what he had heard from his brother, Elladan had felled him only seconds after Kili’s own body had hit the ground.

He could not hear what Fili and the others were talking behind the closed door but from the sound of it, Dwalin was not pleased and couldn’t accept the fact a tree-shagger had saved their prince’s life.

Mahal grant them strength for when they’d find out about their relationship.

The next time the door opened, he was finally faced with the gaze of Elladan and he struggled to sit up again purely out of instinct. He didn’t wish to worry the elf further and wanted to show him he was still breathing thanks to Elladan. With the pulse racing in his ears and his vision a tad foggy, Kili felt small and embarrassed to be in such a vulnerable stage.

This was not a side of him he wished Elladan had to see, weak and pitiful.

Words got stuck in his throat and he licked his dry lips before patting the bed with his hand; an invitation.

“…Hey.”

...

Elladan didn’t care for Dwalin’s insults or his thwarted fury.  To him, Elladan would always be the source of inferior (see: non-Dwarven) stock; too tall, too thing, with pointed ears that heard too much, and eyes that were too clear.  In the end, it didn’t matter to him if Dwalin’s hate was for him, or every Elf in Arda, so long as he stepped out of the way.

Which he did.  Eventually. With a great deal of very black muttering that promised this wasn’t over.

In truth, Elladan had neither heart, nor care, to listen.

His heart felt caught in his throat as he entered the room, the thudding beat mirrored in the pulse in his throat.  Even from across the warm, brazier lit room, Kili looked step away from succumbing back to the grave, and the thought of it rested heavily on his chest.

This wasn’t the reunion either of them had planned. Or wanted.

“Mae govannen,”  Elladan’s voice sounded soft with disbelief, even to his own ears.  A hushed thing, each syllable pushed through the knot in his throat. But he sank down carefully on the side of the bed all the same, one hand mapping across the blankets to find Kili’s.  There were tears at the corners of his grey eyes when he looked down at his injuries; his head and torso wrapped in heavy bandages. 

“One day this might be a fashionable look, but I don’t like it on you.”  He tried to laugh, but that was too soft, too quiet, too.  Lifting his free hand, Elladan tenderly brushed a few stray curls away from Kili’s forehead, careful to avoid the black and purple bruises that spilled from beneath the bandages.  It would heal.  He was alive. The rest would come in time.

“I thought I lost you… By the Valar, Kili…  That’s one moment I never experience again.”

...

Gone was the mirth, joy, and curiosity from those silver eyes; replaced by barely contained tears and pain he wished he could wipe away. Instead, he rose a hand to gently brush the falling tear from Elladan’s chin and offered him a tender smile. “You saved me,” he rasped placing his hand over the elf’s own, soaking in the warmth and comfort of his lover. 

The healers around them had grown quiet; some watched away respectfully, yet some could not hide the shock on their faces as the two interacted in such familiar terms.

The pain felt dull compared to the relief of having Elladan beside him once again, his head tilting against the gentle touch of his elf’s hand on his forehead. Even the sting of the bruises seemed bittersweet. 

“I could not handle the thought of losing you,” he continued quietly as not to break the relieving atmosphere of being together again; if he closed his eyes he could almost pretend there were just the two of them and the soft orange glow from the fires. “When I saw him grab you, I forgot all about my training. Everything I had learned left my mind, I just knew I had to get him to let go of you immediately.”

The memory of that pale hand closed around Elladan’s throat, muscles tensing as it started choking the elf sent an unpleasant shudder through Kili’s body and he allowed his hand to trail up the side of the elf’s neck. “Does it hurt? Are you injured?”

...

Elladan could feel the hot, lingering weight of eyes on the back of his neck.  But unlike Dwalin or several of the Dwarves he’d met on his way through the tunnels, the healers seemed more confused than outraged.  It didn’t come as much of a surprise; from what Elladan had managed to glean, most of them had come with Dain’s army, and they knew nothing of the merry war that had sparked so much between them.

It was only a matter of time before Oin and Dwalin fetched Thorin from whatever work occupied him. 

But none of that seemed to matter when Kili was alive and warm under his hands.  Blessings to Eru Illuvatar, who has been so generous to us this day. Two sets of brother had waded into that bloody fray, and all four men had lived; injured, yes, but alive.

“Hush, none of those words.”  Elladan’s voice shook with a watery, unguarded laugh, and his fingers curled tightly against his beloved’s chest. “We saved each other, as it should be.  Though, in future-”  He ignored the stir of embarrassment in his chest, and brushed away his tears with his free hand, “Perhaps we should set our sights a little less ambitious than invading armies.”

Gingerly he tilted his head so Kili could move aside the high collar of his tunic, baring the wicked, black and purple bruises that circled his throat.  The span of orc fingers was emblazoned on pale skin, shiny with a sticky salve that smelled of crushed herbs. 

“It matters not, it will heal.” Careful not to jostle him, Elladan perched on the edge of his bed and tenderly brushed Kili’s dark curls away from the bandage on his forehead.  “We’ll both have new scars to remind us how lucky were are to be here, together.  And I’ll be here every day until you’re whole and hale again.  Even if that means sneaking passed every Dwarf under the mountain.”

...

“No sneaking will be involved,” Kili promised vehemently, his grip of Elladan’s hand tightening even if, in his own condition, that grip wasn’t as firm as it should have been. “I have no doubt in my mind Thorin will arrive soon to see how I fare. He might still distrust elves, but he’ll be in your debt for saving my life and helping us overcome the orcs. If I ask for it, you will be allowed free pass inside the mountain even if he will grumble about it,” he assured with an amused smile.

There was no way he’d make Elladan sneak around as if they should be ashamed of what they had. They had shared a soft and tender kiss back in Rivendell, a warm moment no one had interrupted and none other than his brother knew of.

But sooner than later he would bring it up with his kin.

His desire to properly court the elf.

The mere thought sent his heart racing and he welcomed the excitement and nervousness of it as it was a reminder they were both alive and one day, healed as well. 

The dark bruises again Elladan’s fair skin woke something dark within him, his eyes narrowing as he reached out and gingerly brushed the tips of his fingers over them. The air felt thicker and heavier, the scent of earth and herbs strong around them, his gaze meeting Elladan’s own. “Next time… I’d like you to carry my marks, instead of something foul like this,” he admitted quietly, the corner of his lip twitching into a grin.

...

In the wake of the war, and with the unforgiving march of winter turned inexorably towards the survivors, Elladan could feel the shifting allegiances in the wind.  Elves and Dwarves had found common enemy in the corrupted armies of the goblins and orcs– they’d fought together, and the plains beyond the Lonely Mountain would be forever stained with their shed blood.

It had stained the earth red. All red.  Human, Dwarf and Elf alike.

When Kili looked up at him, Elladan felt his stomach tense, low and warm, at the intensity in his gaze.  A living, visceral reminder that the hot spark between them hadn’t been quenched by distance or time.  The bruised skin was feverish under Kili’s fingers, blood pooled beneath the surface to aid the healing.  

“All the more reason for us both to mend quickly.” He whispered conspiratorially, not especially wanting to be overheard by the other Dwarves in the room!  “It would be poor manners for me to traumatize your good healers by kissing their prince… Although…”

Elladan trailed off a teasing beat, and leaned close to brush his smooth cheek tenderly across Kili’s stubbled one, “How much trouble are you going to get into between now, and when I can tell your uncle that I am still entirely… and hopelessly… yours?”

...

Even in the dim light, he could see Elladan’s pale skin turn a shade of red and he didn’t even try to stop the smirk that spread on his lips, entire too pleased about the knowledge he had remained important to the elf. However, in mere seconds the situation had turned around and Kili felt his own heart skip a beat as the smooth skin brushed against his rougher one, the warm breath over his ear sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“So much trouble,” he laughed quietly, not even trying to hide the fact he was openly tilting his head up and nuzzling closer to the elf, their noses brushing against each others in a light tease and to him it felt as if the tension had ratcheted up a notch. 

They had almost lost each other, he wasn’t going to pretend there was nothing between them.

“It’s the trouble I’ll gladly walk through with you,” Kili added sliding his hand down Elladan’s arm so he could remove the loose fabric covering his wrist. Underneath, frayed and a bit lose hung the bracelet Elladan had made him of his own dark hair; their own promise of the future.

“I never took it off. The moment you closed it around me, I was yours.”

...

Every place of healing had rules.  Important rules that spared the patients from any more pain, and helped speed the mending of whatever ailed them.  Wise rules that Elladan had absolutely no intention of heeding, even with the burning weight of the healer’s eyes on the back of his neck.

Not when Kili had worn his token through all the months and miles that had divided them.  

“Kili…”  He breathed his name like the benediction it felt like, just like he’d said it even night in his prayers since they were parted.  Gripping the edge of the bed, Elladan carefully swung his feet up onto, his weight balanced easily on the edge.  It had been made for a Dwarf broader than Kili, and there was just enough room to curl in against his side, without jostling his beloved.

“I have missed you every minute we’ve been apart.”  Elladan’s eyes half closed as he softly kissed both of Kili’s cheeks.  Even the sounds of the other people in the room was vague and distant, unimportant compared to the man beside him.  “My father guessed why I wished to leave home so suddenly; but as sad as he was to see us leave, I come with his blessings.  So tell me-”

“How does an elf court the prince of Erebor?”

...

The surprised inhale of air and silent murmurs around them fell to deaf ears as Kili carefully positioned himself on the bed beside Elladan, mindful of both of their injuries. The lips felt so warm and comforting against his cold skin and Kili exhaled shakily, covering Elladan’s hand with his own. The words his elf spoke sent the dwarf’s heart racing, teeth nibbling over his lower lip in a nervous habit; he only knew about the courting in theory; he had never given it much thought as he had thought to be alone through his life.

After all, he wasn’t exactly popular on the dwarven scale.

Funnily enough, it seemed like elves enjoyed his presence more.

“Give me a minute, I’m trying to imagine the face your father made when he found out why you left,” he snickered good-naturally to distract himself; after all, he had never in his life heard of an elf who would run away for a dwarf.

An elf prince on top of everything.

“As for courting…” Kili swallowed, feeling his skin crawl as it flushed at the thought. “We’re both princes, so it doesn’t really matter which one of us initiates it. It would have been different had you been a soldier or someone else. The first thing you do is craft a bead of your own and braid it in your intended one’s hair; a public claim and knowledge for others that the person is no longer accepting courting gifts or proposals for others.” 

His fingers brushed through Elladan’s hair lightly at the thought, the smile on his lips reaching his eyes. “Yours would be made from silver or perhaps a gem, and I’m assuming mine would be of wood.”

Polar opposites, but oh so perfect.

...

“Ada is far wiser than I am, little truly confounds him.  He doesn’t understand my choice, but he could see with his own eyes how happy you make me.  And even the Lord of Imladris cannot always know what the heart will choose.”  Elladan laughed quietly under his breath, his lean frame stretched out beside Kili’s on a bed that was just wide enough, and much too short.  “He was surprised, but sends his blessings to us both.”

Elladan only prayed they’d be as lucky with Thorin.

And Kili’s mother.  Ai Valar…

Slowly settling into the space beside him, Elladan tucked one arm under his own dark head, his grey eyes soft in the firelight.  The flickering glow did nothing to hide the way his cheeks coloured, or his half-lidded look of exhausted joy.  With a sigh, he turned his head into Kili’s touch, letting him comb his fingers through his black hair. The long, Elven braids he’d worn on the battlefield had been unwound, leaving only the daily ones plaited back from his temples, and the smooth strands trickled liquidly through Kili’s fingers.

“Traditionally for Elves, yes… Gifts of silver or wood. I think I know just what I’ll do for yours.”  Reaching out, Elladan threaded their free hands together, and drew them to his lips, brushing a lingering kiss across Kili’s knuckles, sealing the smiling promise against his skin.  “But you’ll have to wait to see it!”

...

By that moment, Kili had forgotten everything about the world outside of their little bubble. Had it not been to the fact they were both injured, he would have called that moment perfect; almost rivaling their first night together under the stars where the first tender promises had been made. Now they might not have been under the stars but bathing in the glow of the fire, and instead of smelling the fresh air they smelled herbs, but the promise felt as strong as the one they made all those months ago.

Of course, that was the moment they were interrupted as a very nervous-looking dwarf stepped beside them and cleared their throats.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt your… moment, but we need to re-dress your wounds, my prince.”

The thought was unpleasant for several reasons; he didn’t wish for Elladan to see how mangled his body looked like, and he hadn’t seen himself either. The fear that the injuries were more severe than he felt wormed their way into his brain and Kili sat up gingerly, his teeth grit together to keep the pained huff inside.

A quick glance down told him the reason for the urgent re-dressing, as the fabric had started to stain red. Most likely some of the stitches were still bleeding, especially since he had been moving around so much despite the protests.

“You might want to step outside for this,” he said quietly, offering the elf an understanding if uncertain smile. “I don’t think this will be pretty.”

...

Elladan rose to his feet in a single, liquid moment when the healer approached the bedside, his cheeks flushed pink at the interruption.  It was too easy to get completely wrapped up in Kili, and he suspected his beloved felt the same way.  His brother would never let him hear the end of it if he found out Elladan had let a dwarf sneak up on him because he was entranced by the flickering firelight in Kili’s dark eyes.  

His expression turned solemn as he saw the blood slowly seeping through the bandages, and the razor-clawed fear twisted in his belly once more.  “And sit outside, hoping I come back to find you in one piece?  The last time I let you out of my sight, this happened– it’s going to be some time before I take that chance again!”

The healer couldn’t see the way his fingers tightened at his side, his mouth set with stubborn resolve.  

“My father is a renowned healer, I’ve spent most of my life around the Halls of Healing.”  He added, half to the healer who looked like she was trying to find an excuse to evict the elf from her patient’s side.  “I neither faint at the sight of blood, nor intend to interfere with his care… But don’t ask me to leave him.”

The healer’s eyes widened in surprise, taking in the earnestness in Elladan’s grey gaze.  With a resigned huff, won over despite herself, she motioned to a space by the wall, and planted her hand on her hip, “Over there, then.  And not a peep out of you!”

...

The words Elladan spoke woke up a new kind of warmth within the dwarf; it coiled around his chest like a warm hug, earnest and comforting and caring. He had not heard anyone aside his own family speak about him with such passion and as embarrassing as it was, Kili felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. 

Elladan was truly turning him into a huge softie, wasn’t he?

“I’m not going to argue against that,” was his watery response accompanied with a chuckle, his gaze averted on his hands which rested over his lap. He didn’t want Elladan or the other dwarves to see just how much of an effect Elladan had on him, even if he had a feeling the elf himself knew.

He complied with the healer’s nudges and words without complaining, though he could not stop the small hiss as the fabric was peeled from his wet skin. As he had thought, part of the stitches had ripped a tad; not enough to be dangerous but definitely enough to bleed and cause him discomfort. The unhappy mutters of the healer merely made his own lip quick up and he finally met Elladan’s gaze with his own, shrugging his shoulders in a rather sheepish way.

His fingers clutched at the sheets as a salve was smeared over the cleaned wound and he breathed rapidly through his nose, biting back low curses of his native tongue. His skin felt as if it was on fire, making it very hard for him not to wipe the skin clean with his hand.

“Next time, wait until I’m asleep or unconscious before doing this!”

...

“I would rather hear you complain!  If you have enough strength to protest the quality of your excellent care–” The healer chuckled under her breath, and rolled her eyes at Kili as if to say, ‘elves are strange sorts!’ “–Then you must be on your way to mending.”

From his place at the wall, Elladan had a half view of the woman changing Kili’s bandages and setting him to right again, the astringent scent of the healing balm filling the air and burning the back of his nose. It smelled like potent stuff, and watching her work was a welcome distraction from the lingering fear of losing the stubborn dwarf that had so captured his heart.

Elladan had never expected to find love.  Now he could scarcely take his eyes off him.

When the healer had finished her work, and giving Kili a strict admonishment for wriggling around too much, Elladan hurried back over to his bedside with a rueful, relieved smile. “Peace, be gentle with yourself!”  The words were punctuated with a breathy laugh as Elladan caught both of Kili’s hands and brought them to his mouth. His lips were warm against his knuckles– and had the added benefit of stopping Kili from actually trying to wipe away the salve.

“Be still a moment and let it work. I’ll bring you something of our own medicine tomorrow, and see if you prefer it– but for now, rest.  And if you cannot-”  Elladan smiled against his fingers mischievously, “You can translate all you just said.  How funny that curses in your tongue sound so similar to ones in mine!”

...

“I’m afraid your ears would drop off if I were to translate what blasphemy I just spoke!” Kili laughed between grit teeth, trying to focus his attention on the feeling of Elladan’s fingers around his own and the warm lips pressing against his skin. By now, he no longer cared if the healers saw; they would have to be both blind and deaf to not realize something deeper ran between the two than just friendship.

The stinging and burning of his skin did not ease up for what felt like hours but were only several minutes, and once it finally began to subdue the dwarf relaxed with a relieved sigh. He acknowledged the healer saying that they would have to wait for it all to dry before redressing the wound but now that the pain was gone, all he could focus on was Elladan.

“I’m thankful that you’re staying by my side,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Within their kin, it was not a weakness to be hurt in a war, but the remaining scars would always be a reminder that while he lived, he had not been strong enough to protect those he cared for. While some looked upon them as a mark of war, something to be proud of, Kili himself felt great shame for allowing Elladan to be hurt in the first place.  

“I hope you do not think of me as weak for being injured so badly; I promise I can protect you.”

...

Of all the things Elladan expected to hear, an apology was nowhere on that list!  In confusion, he sank down carefully on the edge of the bed, Kili’s hands still safely folded in his own. “Hush, I want none of those words.  Neither of us could have defeated Bolg without the other– do you ask me to linger in shame because you were injured?”

Somehow, Elladan didn’t think he would.

The speculating gazes of the healers had become nothing more that a vague annoyance, hovering at the edges of his awareness.  It was something he couldn’t entirely turn off, not when he was in a strange place; and especially one so filled with Dwarves that may take offense to his presence here.  Valar knew things hadn’t always gone well between their people.

“We’re stronger together, but nobody is infallible in battle.  You lived, Kili… Nothing else matters to me.”

Elladan would never forget the fear kindled in his soul when he, Elrohir and Fili had carried Kili’s body down the rocky mountainside; or the blood that had slicked their hands and stained their boots. Clasping their hands more tightly, Elladan leaned down to rest their foreheads together, careful of the bandages wrapped about Kili’s head.

“Love me, and mend.” He murmured, smiling, “When you’re well, I’ll ask your uncle for his blessing.  Then the world will know what I’ve known from the night we met– I am yours, for always.”

...

The elves’ words were followed by the nearly scandalized gasps of the healers; a sound that soon turned into awkward coughs and shuffling as they finally decided that perhaps it would be for the best to give the two some privacy. Perhaps later he would be embarrassed how open the two of them had been despite their company but for now, he could not focus on anything or anyone else than Elladan.

The other did not think of him as weak or a burden and that was such a relief to hear that the dwarf couldn’t help but chuckle and close his eyes as he embraced the other with his less wounded arm.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured fondly, breathing in deeply the other’s scent through the smell of herbs and dirt and finding comfort in it. “The healing will take a while and I’m not certain when I’ll be released from this wing but will you wait for me?” 

The dwarf understood if Elladan had other duties to return to; after all, he was also a prince. As much as he wanted to keep the elf beside him, he would never forgive himself if Elladan got left behind in his duties or whatnot.

On the other hand, he was allowed to be a bit selfish, right?

They had quite literally just gone through hell, and he could not imagine what had been going on in Elladan’s mind while he had been unconscious. 

“Do you think they would give us the glare if we were to ask for a bed to be made next to me?”

...

“Oh Kili…”  Elladan’s voice was soft, the adoring sigh wrapped around his name like a benediction.  “I will wait for you unto the end of the world, if I must.  And while I wait-”  With a teasing smile, Elladan gathered Kili’s broad, strong hand between his own slender ones, and brought his fingers to his lips.

“I will come visit you every day, and I shall bring you news of what happens outside your healing halls.  Of the rebuilding of your beautiful city, and the peace Elrohir and I are determined to foster between our people.  I foresee a future where loving you keeps me very busy… But not out of trouble, naturally!”

He’d almost lost Kili once, and even now– sitting on the edge of his bed, hand in hand, with the future uncertain ahead of them, Elladan couldn’t quell the bright joy that kindled hotly in his chest. 

Kili was alive.  And they were together.

The rest of the world– Elf and Dwarf alike– would simply have to learn to accept that.

Laughing quietly against his knuckles, Elladan looked down at Kili across their joined hands, and pressed a kiss to the hollow of his palm for safekeeping, “Let me stay with my brother, that we may find some way of making ourselves useful to your Uncle.  It can be your incentive to heal– the sooner you’re freed from this place, the sooner I can sleep at your side.”

...

As much as he had thought Elladan would say those words, the dwarf couldn’t help the way his lips pulled into a small pout; he disliked it at the healing wing with the overly fussing healers and brother and whatnot. But in a way he understood; had the situation been reversed, he’d be fussing over his brother or Elladan just as much. As it were, he was the one majorly injured so he just had to go through it.

The way Elladan’s warm lips glided over his fingers brought him comfort and Kili smiled as he brushed one of his fingers down the elf’s jawline. “You have valid reasoning but I’ll still yearn to be beside you every night,” he promised, the thought alone sending a thrill of excitement up his spine. 

After his recovery, they could truly share a bed for the first time. He longed to see what Elladan looked like in the mornings, how his voice sounded after a good nights sleep and had he had the strength his mind would have come up with several more noises he would love to learn to hear but as it was, he was beginning to feel the strain on his body as his eyelids grew heavier.

“I’m afraid I cannot fight sleep any longer,” he apologized, his words beginning to slur together. He knew he’d be alone in mere minutes but clung onto the elf nevertheless, prolonging their contact together for at least one more second.

“Help me lay down?”

...

With warm, careful hands, Elladan helped Kili more comfortably into his bed, and smoothed the blankets straight over him.  “Sleep is what your body needs to heal.  And the sooner you are well, the sooner we can make up for all these months of lost time.”  He whispered cheekily, for Kili’s ears alone.

Best not to scandalize the healers too much more!

He waited until his beloved had drifted into sleep, hands joined over the blankets.  He’d come so close to losing him… Even now, knowing he was safe and mending, Elladan watched the sleep-slow rise and fall of his chest, and let his fingers linger over the steady thud of his pulse, letting the proof of his life soothe a little of the ice in his belly that was taking an age to thaw.

“I’ll return later.”  He said to the healers before he departed, bowing low and respectfully (which made the elder smile reluctantly, and the younger flush pink).  

Elladan was certain that word of their meeting would have reached Thorin before long, if it hadn’t already.  The thought stirred something nervous beside the ice, but the alternative had been not to see Kili.  Impossible.

One day slipped into two, and five, the passing of time marked by their brief visits.  During the days the twins lent their hands to whatever jobs the dwarves needed done.  Sometimes that meant moving stones from the grand entrance (a job assigned to embarrass– and which the twins had performed capably, without complaint, much to the grudging surprise and respect of their overseer!).  And on others, they traveled out into the valley in search of fish and game, as the survivors of the war began to stock for the approaching winter.

By night they stayed with Thranduil’s camp, until the elves began to depart once more for the Mirkwood.

Elladan’s visits to the halls of healing were short but lively, bringing stories of the repairs and the world outside like mountain.  And by the fifth day, even the old healer with the gimlet eye, had softened his grudging scowl.  

His world felt suspended, waiting for Kili to heal enough to be allowed out of the infirmary.  By now, Elladan was sure that Thorin knew.. And yet, the Dwarf king hadn’t spoken a word to him.

“Thranduil’s people leave with the dawn.”  Elladan relayed during his daily visit, his light frame perched on the edge of Kili’s bed. “But the people of the lake have generously offered to let us stay with them a time.  So you see?”  He lifted their joined hands to punctuate the words with a kiss to his knuckles, “You’ll not be rid of me yet.”

...

“I’ll try to get you both inside the mountain as soon as I can,” Kili promised with a bright smile, feeling the familiar fondness towards the elf as the other kissed his knuckles. Elladan hadn’t been the only one telling him stories from the outside world; his brother visited often and always brought new stories of how the dwarves had tried so hard to chase the elves away with tasks that were not fit for them, and how despite the dislike towards them the twins had done their jobs gladly and without complaining.

It was sort of hilarious that two young elves acted more mature than older dwarves.

But he knew some of the dwarves were softening towards Elladan in particular as his visits to the healing wing were not a secret anymore and the rumors had started to grow wings around them as dwarves around the castle begun to wonder what was going on behind the closed doors.

During those days Kili’s strength begun to return slowly.

He was cleared from any mortal danger as it seemed like no infection was taking place inside his wounds; he’d just have to be careful not to rip his stitches and not hit his head anywhere for the next months. It would still take a couple of days before he’d be released, but his spirit was high despite the discomfort.

How could it not be, when he had Elladan beside him?

His fingers stroked through the elf’s dark locks and he smiled as he watched them slip across his skin.

“I must admit I’m starting to feel very impatient laying here every day. I wish to join the rebuilding as soon as possible.”

...

The Elven folk were never meant to live beneath the ground, and Elladan was still disconcertingly aware of the sheer tonnage of raw stone above his head.  An impenetrable wall between him, and the stars.  But every day the path from the entrance to the halls of healing became a little more comfortable, and the faces of the Dwarves, more familiar.  

It was a relief, for when Thranduil’s company returned home in the morning, there would be none of their own people left in the valley.  Rivendell was far due west, and Lorien in the south-west, further still.  But they had one another, and during their long years among the Dunedain, that had been enough.

It was still enough.

“Soon, my dear, stubborn heart!  You’ll be free long before the first snow, and I swear, we’ll leave some of the rebuilding for you.”  Elladan laughed, and turned his head to press a kiss to the heel of Kili’s hand, his mouth curved in a smile.  “But since you’ve been so patient, shall I tell you the news I overheard when I arrived today?”

During his second visit, one of the healers had set a chair at Kili’s bedside, but Elladan – contrary by nature– had always chosen to perch at the edge of the bed.  One foot tucked behind his knee, he let Kili comb his fingers through his long fall of black hair, the soft edges tickling the side of his neck when Elladan leaned down to kiss his cheeks.

“Ravens travel faster than those of us on land.  And your mother sends word that they’ve left Ered Luin, and begun the trek home.”

...

The news of his mother’s arrival made him feel several things at once.

Joy, for he would soon be reunited with his entire family.

Relief, for his mother’s good health.

And dread, for he was sure his mother would have his head as soon as she heard what had happened. Not to mention the rumors that were floating around Erebor about him and the certain elf. He just hoped Dis would not scare Elladan away.

While Dis was more openminded and relaxed than Thorin, she still made grown dwarves shake in their boots when she got angry or demanded answers. The two brothers had been on the receiving end of her wrath more than once.

“My mother can be intimidating at times, and I’m sure there’s a lot she wishes to know,” Kili warned his lover, his brows furrowed a bit in thought. “No doubt she’s going to whack the back of my head for acting recklessly, not to mention I’ve gone and fallen for an elf. I just hope you can handle her,” he winced shaking his head a bit, which only made him feel a tad nauseated; a sign he was on his way to recovery, as it didn’t make him cry out anymore.

“What about your father and brother? Are they still by your side and approve of your decision to be here with me?”

...

Time healed all things, from the rift between the people of the mountain and those who lived in Dale (a slow healing wound, but it had begun to knit), to the hurts of those who had been injured in the war.  It took longer than anyone wanted, but eventually; with good medicine and patience; the last of the wounded prepared to be released back into the wider world.

They all had a few new scars for their trouble, but they lived; and in the end, that was more important than anything else.

“We’re almost there.”  Elladan laughed under his breath as he and Kili made their way through the long, winding tunnels.  It was maze beneath the mountain, but as the weeks had passed, Elladan had learned to find his way about.  Living beneath the stone still didn’t feel right, but as the temperature dropped outside?  He couldn’t help but be grateful for the heavy, insulating rock walls.

And he knew the path to Kili’s chambers by heart; mostly because he, Fili and Elrohir had been cleaning and straightening them in anticipation of Kili’s release.  

“Just around another corner, it’s not far now. You should be glad I’m walking with you; Ori was suggesting you’d be better off ferried about in a wheelbarrow!”

...

“Ori’s being overprotective; he’s almost worse than my brother!”

The dwarf laughed as he followed after Elladan, his heart racing with excitement and joy to finally be able to walk freely through the many tunnels of Erebor. Too many painstakingly slow weeks had passed in the healing wing and he was sure that if he’d had to stay for one more day he’d lose his mind. Elladan had already done his best to keep him entertained during his recovery, and it felt unfair to ask him for more.

To finally be able to explore without having to worry about his injuries and fully understand how far their journey had brought them felt mindblowing, and he still struggled to grasp the idea of being an official prince after the coronation. 

“You seem awfully eager to show me my own chambers; are you that desperate to get me to yourself?” He teased lightly, brushing a light touch down Elladan’s spine; a mere tease. 

Of course, he was curious to see what his new living place would look like but in all honesty, all he could think about was having some time alone with Elladan away from the prying eyes of his family or the healers.

...

They were a long way from that quiet forest beyond the light of Imladris.  And yet, despite the distance, and the war, and the sidelong glances they got from every Dwarf they passed?  Kili’s hand on his back still made Elladan’s skin feel warm and alive.  

“Could you blame me?”  He laughed cheerfully, his delight at being with Kili (and without the constant presence of the healers!) written clearly in every line of his body.  It was in the way he leaned into Kili’s space, drawn by the gravity and magnetism of him; and the way he smiled, like the world was made just a bit better because Kili was there.

“I’ve traveled all this way to be with you, and so far the healers have spent more time with you than I have!  We both have much time to make up for.”

And now that they were both here, and the orcs dispatched, they had the time to do it.

Reaching Kili’s new chambers, Elladan reached for the door, hand hovering above the handle playfully, trying to hide the nerves that lurked behind his grey eyes.  “If you don’t like it, we’ll move you to another set.  There’s no shortage of room beneath the mountain, my prince.”

The rooms were at the edge of the mountain face, instead of buried deep in the heart of the stone.  And unlike the other rooms, this one was lit, not with torches and braziers, but by the gleam of late autumn sunshine.  The main room was a small, cosy space with a wide hearth and worn, comfortable furniture that had obviously been raided from elsewhere in the mountain.  An archway lead through to what must be a bedroom, but it was dark.

But the main chamber was dominated by a strange thing– well, a strange thing for a Dwarven city.

One wall looked as though it had taken damage, but the stonework had been carefully shored up and repaired.  But instead of simply rebuilding the wall, the open space had been filled with with panes of leaded glass.  

From here, Kili could look down the side of the mountain and across the vast plain, all the way to the glimmering lake– as blue as the clear autumn sky overhead.

A window to the sky, in a very Dwarven home.

...

Whatever he had expected his chamber to look like, it definitely wasn’t this.

For several minutes Kili could only gape silently as he slowly circled the room, fingers brushing over the worn furniture and the doorway to his bedroom. It was almost too much for someone who had spent most of his life sharing a small room with his brother in a small house, and now his chamber alone was larger than their house had been.

This would be his place now.

His home.

But what really drew his attention was the large window, keen eyes inspecting every small detail on the glass and the view behind it. He was sure no one else had a chamber like this; dwarves had no use for such large windows nor glass, preferring to keep small holes on the walls instead. The view was absolutely breathtaking and the way his chamber bathed in the golden light made him feel warm and fuzzy; as if the war had never happened.

“Did you do this?” He asked softly, turning to look at his lover with fond eyes, fearing his heart might actually give out under how much love he felt towards the elf.

...

Even with Fili and Elrohir’s reassurances, Elladan had felt like he’d been sitting on pins and needles, waiting for Kili to see the room they’d prepared for him.  It was a strange room for a Dwarf– but then, wasn’t it strange for a Dwarf to be in love with an Elf?

From the doorway, he watched his beloved survey the chambers with an unreadable expression, moving from furniture to window to door, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing!

“With help.”  Elladan’s voice nearly broke, his usually confident chatter turned tight with nerves.  “The people of Dale wanted to thank Elrohir and I for all our help, but they have so little right now, we refused.  But they’re a proud people…”  He sketched a smile, and leaned back against the door frame, his fingers tap-tapping lightly on his thigh.

“They’re rebuilding but much of the city is still in shambles.  The glass was part of a building that couldn’t be saved.  They had no use for it–”  He paused a beat, and finally looked over at Kili, meeting his gaze, “But it seemed a perfect solution to a space of our own.”

...

Space of our own.

Those simple words resonated with his heart, making it flutter like the wings of a butterfly. The thought and knowledge that Elladan had worked all this time to make this a place for the two of them made him feel nearly high with happiness and elation. Of course, he’d have to remember to thank the townspeople as well for their donation; truly, this was a chamber fit for the two princes.

So different, yet matching together almost perfectly.

He did not even try to stop the smile that spread on his lips as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Elladan tightly. He was allowed to have this; to be with Elladan, build a life together with the elven prince. They had gone through literal hell to get to this point but Mahal, was it worth it.

“It’s absolutely perfect for us. Thank you.”

Kili rose on his toes and pressed his lips lightly over Elladan’s, winding his arms around the elf’s neck for support. He yearned this; he wanted Elladan to remain with him, make a home with him. Wanted to make the courting gift and claim the elf as his own, wanted to make them official so all the people would know not to touch what was his.

...

Elladan had never expected to find someone to love.  He and Elrohir were too different from the caste of their people; too wild, too influenced by the eclipsed human blood in their veins.  Their birth gave them noble standing and graces, but it could not undo their mischief, or the Númenorean blood in their veins.

But Kili was no elf.  And twice as impossible as any elven maid or human beloved.

“Thank the Valar for that.  I wasn’t sure what you’d make of it!”  Elladan heaved a breathless, sighing laugh, and leaned over to meet Kili halfway in a long overdue kiss.  “Dwalin and the others helped us bring the glass up the side of the mountain, but he kept looking at me like I’d planned to move you into a talan, like a bird, instead of perfectly safe behind your own stones.”

Elladan grinned for the first time that day, his whole expression alight with relief, and incandescently happy to have Kili where he belonged (chiefly, out of the halls of healing!)  “Everyone is going to want to hear the story of what happened on Weathertop tonight.  Our brothers and I have refused to tell the tale until you were free of the healers.”

“There are a dozen young things that think you’re quite the dashing hero.  Wisdom says I should enjoy the time I have alone with you, before they try to steal you away!”

...

“I’m no hero,” Kili said quietly, fingers twisting and playing with the fabric of Elladan’s robes. He had never considered himself a hero, and what he had done on Weathertop that day was only a desperate fight for survival, for keeping Elladan alive. There was nothing heroic in the way he let the orc pierce through him.

But who knew what sort of heroic tales those youngsters were already spreading around.

“I used to enjoy stories from the war; I suppose in a way, I thought the way those youngsters do now. However, I never thought it would be like this for those who survived. That desperate, fleeting moment one clings to own life… There’s nothing heroic about that.”

It was a sobering though. After all, dwarves prided themselves about their scars and survival but did they all also feel this heavy weight upon them? Did they stare death in the eye, and fear for that second?

“You’re right about one thing, though,” he chuckled, stealing another kiss from Elladan’s lips. “We should make the best of the time we have together now before the party, and not dwell on what happened. So, what do you want to do?” The question was asked with a slow brush of finger down Elladan’s neck, feeling the smooth skin under his fingertips as a slow grin spread on his lips.

“I personally have a couple of suggestions.”

...

“Nobody feels like a hero from this side, ithildinen, we’re too aware of how afraid we were at the time.”

It was one of the wisest things his father had ever told him, a long time ago when the twins were still young and grieving the mother’s leaving.  It hadn’t seemed fair at the time; they’d rescued her, they’d saved her.  Heroes weren’t supposed to be left behind at the end of the story.  

Heroes existed in stories, not in life.  

Elladan smiled against Kili’s mouth, before pulling him over to the low, comfortable couch he and Fili had dragged into the room earlier that day.  “You’re the one that’s been trapped under the care of the good healers; so long as we’re together, I am entirely at my lord’s convenience!”

Sinking down onto the couch, Elladan reached for Kili’s hand, their fingers curling together like they’d been fashioned to fit that way.  “I still can hardly believe that we’re both here.”  He admitted ruefully, folding Kili’s hand between both of his own.

“I know this won’t be easy, but here we are.  And with the blessing of most of our families.  There were so many times that I was afraid I’d dreamed you.”  His smile mirrored his beloved’s, as he lavished kisses over his fingers, “Now I have you, and I can believe that you’re real.”

...

“You already have me, there’s no reason to try to steal my heart again,” Kili murmured a tad flustered, his skin tingling under the gentle kisses. It felt odd to be treated like he was something fragile, something that could break if held on too tightly but he had to admit it was not a bad sensation. 

The would only have mere hours before they’d be whisked away once again, but at least he could steal moments with Elladan at the celebration; it’s not like they had to be hiding as people were already talking, and as soon as he’d get the bead done for Elladan’s hair he would publicly claim the elf as his own.

The mere thought sent his heart racing. 

“I wonder if this celebration will be a repetition from our first one,” he teased, thumb running over Elladan’s knuckles. “It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that one evening gave us such a bright future.”

...

In short order, their brothers would probably be looking for them; Fili because he worried, and his little brother had been stuck in the Halls of Healing for weeks, and Elrohir because he was curious about the dwarven man that had so capture Elladan’s heart.  

But for now, for just a few moments, Elladan didn’t have to share him with anyone.

“There are many worse things it could be!  Though, if it is?  I refuse to let you leave the table with any mischievous other elves!”  The couch was comfortable as they sank down into the pillows, Elladan’s body half twisted to the side so he could lean into Kili’s chest, careful not to jostle his still tender injuries.

Slowly he unfolded his fingers to thread their hands together, squeezing down to make sure (without a doubt!) that he was real.  Elladan could scarcely believe it, after all they’d been through.  It seemed a little impossible that all could have come right.  

“Truthfully, I’m not sure what to expect from your people tonight.”  With a grin, Elladan leaned in to kiss the side of Kili’s neck, before sliding down to rest his head on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of sweat and healing herbs that clung to his skin, “But I find myself impatient to find out!”

...

“I’m assuming you’ve never been to a dwarven party before,” Kili grinned, his skin still prickling with goosebumps from the kiss Elladan had placed on the side of his neck. He shifted carefully so he could wrap his arm around the elf’s waist, absently rubbing his fingers in slow circles against the fabric of his robes. 

The couch was definitely from the people of Lake Town; it was long enough to fit the two of them easily and the soft fabric was not something he had seen on the dwarven furniture before.

“I can already warn you that it’s a lot more noisy and boisterous than the celebration you’re used to,” he chuckled brushing his lips tenderly over Elladan’s forehead, the smooth hair tickling his lips. “Our race is rowdy and loud and have basically no shame, especially where ale is involved. And this is the first celebration of Erebor so it’s safe to assume it’s going to be very grand and last well through the night; if not to the following day!”

His eyes shone with mischief, fingers prodding at his lover’s side. “No one blames you if it’s too much and you wish to retire early.”

...

“This sounds like a familiar taunt, I’m sure I’ve heard it before!”  

It had been an exhausting few weeks, from the long trek out of Rivendell and across the mountains, to the pitch of battle, and the long healing afterwards.  Even an immortal elf (perhaps especially this immortal elf!) could grow impatient with the slowness of it all.  

A loud, raucous celebration sounded like just the things to liven the routine they’d all fallen into.  A bit of a change, since there was no time to rest before winter came.  

With a shallow yawn, Elladan stretched out his long legs and draped against Kili’s side, molded in warm beneath the weight of his beloved’s arm.  “I’m not so delicate I can’t handle a little noise– as well you know!  Unless you’ve forgotten than you still owe me a kiss from the last time I beat you.”

“No, if I leave the reveling early, it’ll be because I can’t keep my hands away from you any longer.  And there are things it would be impolite to do in front of your family!”

...

The mental images Elladan was planting in his head brought a fresh layer of blush on his skin, his lips parting a bit in surprise from the words. Sure, the two had shared several kisses throughout their time together but it had never escalated further than that. Granted, usually the time was against them but perhaps soon they’d have the opportunity to explore further.

“You’re making it very hard for me to find a reason to go to this party, and not lock you up here with me just so you could make good of your words, you tease,” he murmured roughly, fingers tightening their hold of Elladan’s robe, a low noise vibrating from his chest.

Dwarves were known for being impatient; if Elladan kept teasing him this way, he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next.

“You’re toying with fire, my dear,” he added, propping himself on his elbow so he could press a light, teasing kiss on the elf’s lips.

...

For the first time since they’d met, Kili and Elladan were truly alone.

There were no healer’s here, watching with disapproving glances.  Or the rest of the Dwarven company laughing at what they thought was a joke, or scowling darkly when they began to suspect it wasn’t.  There were no brothers vying for their attention, and no stolen hours– come morning, neither of them would be leaving.

No more distance.  Not more waiting.  No more enforced separation.

“And miss the chance to watch the whole of Erebor hanging on the tale you and Fili have to tell?  I’m not such a fool!”  Elladan shifted under the weight of Kili’s arm, his long, lean body stretched across the couch and draped artfully against his beloved’s chest.  This, he thought with a boyish grin, was something he fully intended to get used to.

One kiss melted into two, and five, and fifty; the world contracting down blissfully until it was only the two of them, and the hot slide of Kili’s mouth against his own.  “Toying with it?”  He asked between kisses, his tone breathless and lilted with amusement, “I rather thought I was encouraging it.  But, of course… If you’re too terribly injured still, I’ll behave and keep my hands to myself…!”

...

Each kiss lasted a tad longer than the other, and with each passing kiss, Kili began to feel more and more lightheaded. Each inhale felt too short to relieve the craving of air to his lungs, but he could not care less; not when their lips claimed each other over and over again, their breath mingling together.

“Don’t you dare,” Kili threatened breathlessly, fingers tightening their hold of Elladan’s robes as if physically preventing the other from leaving. He had no clue whether minutes or hours had passed during their embrace yet he knew he craved for more; a fire had been lit inside of him and each kiss poured more fuel to the growing flames. When he had deemed Elladan’s lips kissed enough, he tilted his head so he could brush his nose against the elf’s ear, catching the lobe between his teeth with a low, rumbling growl.

“Unless you’re afraid you’re not… what did you say back in Rivendell again? Skilled enough to make a mess out of me?”

...

Elladan wasn’t entirely sure when they’d slid down on the couch, chest to chest and legs tangled together– but he couldn’t bring himself to care about something so small, not when Kili’s breath was ghosting across his neck, sending shivers down his spine.  

“I don’t know if I have the.. skills… But I’m a quick study.”  He promised, his voice coloured with breathless amusement, “Being a mess may prove a bit of a trouble, since they’re.. ohh…”  

With a tilt of his head and a low shudder, Elladan half flinched away from the sharpness of Kili’s teeth on his pointed ear.  “Careful, ithildinen…”

“They’re going to be expecting us down in the hall soon, and I’m not sure this–”  Elladan was fairly sure his argument would be a lot more convincing if the words weren’t punctuated with kisses.  But it felt like they’d been waiting forever; an eternity of too-little time and chaperoning healers.  “If we show up disheveled, they’ll think I’m only with you because you’re beautiful!”

...

“Mahal, are you going to continue speaking such poetry to me for the rest of our lives?” Kili chuckled breathlessly, trailing small kisses down from Elladan’s ear to his neck, giving the skin a tiny nip. “Because I could get used to that.” 

Clearly, he did not care for what the elf had said about them having to be presentable for the others; he had waited long enough to hear such sighs fall from his lover’s lips, had waited for them to be able to turn their teasing words into actions. With Elladan’s warm body pressed against his own and those lips parted for a whisper of his name, leaving the couch was the absolute last thing on his mind.

He feared someone would have to come to tear them apart if people wished for their attendance at the party.

“It’s your fault for being so irresistible,” he muttered accusingly, slipping his leg between Elladan’s own to press closer to the elf, fingers moving to thread through his hair.

...

With a mischievous grin, Elladan ducked his head against the side of Kili’s neck, his lips brushing the soft spot just beneath his ear.  “Ah well, if it’s poetry you want!”  He teased, looping both arms around his beloved, “I’m sure I can manage something to appease you.”

One day, he wanted to learn Kili’s language; to know the syllables that resonated in parts of his heart that the common tongue couldn’t reach.  But until then?  His own would have to suffice.

“Ten anno hiniath o nin… Pedo gûr hen dartha thenin… A mibo thîr dín ah mipheleg… A tiro din, seron vell nín.”  He murmured, breath warm against Kili’s neck.  

Tangled together in their own space felt like an impossible luxury, a blessing after the long months apart.  With idle hands, Elladan smoothed his fingers over one of Kili’s braids, the plait frayed and loose from spending so long stuck in bed.  “Let me fix this before you leave?”  He asked, voice softening an uncertain octave, “Elrohir and I have been allowed to attend tonight because we had some small part in your story.  But I know you’ll be sitting with Fili, and your uncle; it’s right, after all the three of your endured.”

“But fixing you up… It’s a small thing, until I can finish the proper bead for your hair.”

...

One day, he’d ask Elladan to teach some of those elvish words that were whispered against his neck, curious to know the meaning behind such soft-sounding words. Each syllable made him shiver as the elf’s breath ghosted over his skin, and he still felt a bit out of it by the time Elladan moved over to fix his hair.

The intimate action brought his heart to a skidding halt before beating even faster, his mouth running dry at the mere thought of having Elladan fix his braids. Normally, he would not bother to wear them but as of now, those braids spoke of his royal blood and his heritage, and thus, he had to wear them.

But wearing a braid with Elladan’s bead in it sounded absolutely lovely.

“You can fix them,” he murmured softly, his own fingers drawing absent shapes over Elladan’s chest. He could feel the beat of Elladan’s heart under his palm and it brought a smile to his lips, the joy of having such a wonderful lover as his own making him feel nearly elated.

“You do know I’ll escape the moment I can to join you and your brother instead, right?” He asked laughing. “I do not wish to be stared at for hours on some sort of pedestal when I could have a drink with the two of you.”

...

Beyond their chamber doors, the rest of the mountain was preparing for the evening’s celebration.  They had survived the dragon and reclaimed their home, and the last of their wounded had been released from the halls of healing.  And it was as much as celebration of the living, as it was the lives of those they’d lost.

Elladan’s heart stuttered in his chest, the cadence catching under Kili’s fingers, “Sit up, then.  We’ll see you beautiful before you go.”  The words were light, but his smile was earnest and soft, and so very aware of the intimacy his lover had granted him.

With a final kiss, Elladan sat up and made himself comfortable on one end of the couch, and waited for Kili to settle himself.  Every touch made his fingers tingle, warm with the realization that this could be… would be… what their life looked like.  The two of them, here.  Like this.  

Ai Valar… how could he be so lucky?

“Of course you will!”  He laughed and brought himself back to reality, light fingers starting to unravel Kili’s frayed braids, “Let your people hear your story, and celebrate your survival.  Then you can escape back to me.”

...

The dwarf turned around on the couch, sitting cross-legged in front of Elladan so that the other could easily reach his hair. A shiver ran through his body at the very first touch over his scalp and Kili felt glad the other could not see how flustered his face had become from such a simple action. 

No one aside from his family had touched his hair like this before; and only Fili had tried to braid it a couple of times in their youth.

But it had never felt quite like this.

The air around them felt electrified, the soft glow from the lit fireplace the only source of light in their chamber making the entire situation feel even more intimate than it probably should be. It felt as if they were in their own little world; lulled into a sense of comfort and security, Elladan’s soft voice in his ears the only thing keeping him from drifting away.

“Too bad you’re too tall; I can’t just hide you underneath the table to keep me company,” Kili sighed, laughter evident in his voice; for wouldn’t that be a sight to behold!

“I can try to tell my story but how am I supposed to concentrate when I’ll be too busy staring at my very own star?”

...

“I dread to think what your uncle would think of that!  I’m trying to convince him that I’m a fit husband for a Dwarven prince– hiding under the table might not play into my favour!”  Kili’s dark hair spilled through his fingers as Elladan dissolved into laughter, leaning forward to press a warm kiss to the to crown of his beloved’s head.

He didn’t suppose it was any surprise that he was nervous about the whole evening.  It was one thing to have the people of Erebor speculating about the two of them; but it was another to have it confirmed.  Even if neither of them were wearing the signs of their unofficial betrothal, Elladan felt like it was printed clearly across his face.

I love this man.  And I will do anything to be with him.

“Hush… If I was a star, I would be far out of reach.  You couldn’t touch me, or kiss me; yet here I am!  And here you are.”  Gently Elladan combed out the last of the plaits with his fingers, carefully working out all the little knots that had tangled in during his long convalescence.  

He could feel the crackle of energy between them, electric on his skin; but it was a comfortable thing.  An awareness of the warmth of Kili’s body against his own, and the dip of the pillows beneath their weight.  There was no particular urgency in it; just… This.  Their long absence soothed by their closeness.  

Carefully, Elladan gathered his long hair over his shoulder, and made short work of freeing a few of the tiny, Elven beads.  They were rich blue lapis, the stone veined with threads of silvery mica.  “I’ll keep a few for myself, lest your people think you’re intending to match with Elrohir!”

...

“Now wouldn’t that be a scoop! The dwarven prince mistook his lover’s twin to be his own,” Kili giggled, honest of God giggled at the mere thought. He wasn’t sure who would be more embarrassed if that were to happen; him or Elrohir! Thankfully, he was pretty sure he would recognise his elf if the two stood beside each other.

The knowledge of carrying Elladan’s own beads in his hair sent his heart racing; he didn’t care if they weren’t regal. They were still fit for a prince and they were Elladan’s. That’s all that mattered.

“I can’t wait to start making the beads for you,” he admitted smiling, tilting his head back a bit once he felt Elladan’s fingers return to their work. “Though I’m torn between all of the options! I could sink emerald into mithril, or find a stone that matches the color of your eyes. Or I could try to see what stands out from your hair so that everyone would see them from a distance.”

...

“We would never hear the end of it!”  Kneeling behind Kili, Elladan leaned over to press a kiss to the broad sweep of his shoulder, warm and affectionate.  “For the sake of my pride, be sure you’re kissing the right twin.  Elrohir is not half so pretty as I am!”

Which was a lie.  Nobody in all their lives had reliably been able to tell the sons of Elrond apart.  Even their grandmother, the great lady Galadriel, and their father-- two of the wises people in Arda, and bearers of two of the rings of power-- had found it difficult!  The twins were but one divided soul, one fëa in two bodies.

“I know already what I’m going to use for yours, but my impatient heart thinks it’s taking too long.”  He laughed at his own foibles, his hands still moving carefully through Kili’s hair.

“I want it to be perfect.”  With every pass he worked out a few more of the stubborn knot, dark strands sliding between his fingers.  “For the world to know that we belong together, always.”

...

“I still cannot believe you are mine,” Kili sighed wistfully, his scalp tingling pleasantly the more Elladan worked with his hair. He wished this moment could last forever; just him and his lover in the warm glow of the fire, their soft murmurs or affection the only sound that could be heard and the touch of their skin the softest sensation in the chamber.

Of course, that was the moment someone knocked on the doors and they were pushed open revealing a servant of their kingdom.

“My apologies, my prince, but I have a message from Thorin. His highness wishes for you to change into your regal gear and join him in the High Hall for the celebration of the kingdom.”

The prince groaned and tipped his head back against Elladan’s shoulder; an action that made the servant shift on his feet almost uncomfortably.

“Thank you, I’ll be there soon,” Kili dismissed the servant who scurried away hurriedly, closing the doors after him.

“Why am I not allowed to have more than mere measly hours with you?” He complained, the whine evident in the tone of his voice. He was displeased to say the least; he just wanted to spend one evening with Elladan; was that too much to ask?

“Would it be considered rude if we just skipped the party?”

...

“How impatient you are!”  Elladan teased against his ear, brushing a kiss just above his temple.  How ironic, given that he was truly no better– and Kili had the excuse of being mortal!  “You’ll have me all to yourself tonight after the reveling, though I think we may be too tired to do anything but sleep.”

Waking up together had been a luxury denied to them before; something soft and sweet, and made impossible by their situation.  But they’d endured, and Elladan had left the lands of his people to be with Kili.  All that mattered was that they were both here now.  In a place they’d made for themselves.  

And if the other Dwarves made trouble over it?  Well, Elladan wasn’t going to let himself be scared away!

“If skip the party tonight, your uncle is going to blame me.  And then we’ll have to convince him to forgive us, before he’ll give blessing over our marriage.”  Elladan’s arms tightened around him briefly, his voice lilted with amusement, “Go, dress.  I’ll rescue your brother from my twin– or Elrohir from your brother, I’m never entirely certain with them.”

“Your people need their prince tonight; you bring them hope for their hard won future.  I am yours now, and I shall still be yours tonight.  And for all the rest of the days of our lives… But I know I must share you with your people.  So give me a kiss to fortify myself– and I’ll be with you again shortly!”

...

Marriage.

Even if he knew that would one day be their future, the thought of it still sent the prince’s heart racing. Courting would be the first step towards marriage after they’d receive the blessing from both of their kings and he felt elated at the knowledge nothing could stand between them anymore.

The war had been fought and won.

Now they could focus on themselves.

“I’ll be waiting to see you at the feast then,” Kili sighed regretfully as he bent down and pressed a light yet meaningful kiss on Elladan’s lips. “I’ll be the handsome prince next to the king under the mountain,” he added with a laugh and flashing the elven prince a last grin, he left their chambers.

Yet he could not shake the thought of Elladan from his mind; not when the tailors bustled around him trying out different shades of blue against his skin, not when he was covered with the rich blue and silver and when he placed the silver circled on top of his head. 

All he could think about was Elladan beside him.

The pleasant thoughts disappeared and the weight of the circlet turned heavy the moment he was lead into the Great Hall and hundreds of dwarves began cheering. These people looked up to him and his family for guidance; he was in charge of their lives, their happiness. He had gone from a small-town dwarf to a prince and the change suddenly hit him like a pack of wargs.

The cheering and singing was almost deafening by the time he took his seat next to Thorin, Fili already seated on their uncle’s right side. 

Desperate for something to ground him, Kili grabbed a hold of the goblet in front of him and began searching the hall with his gaze for his own prince.

#murkhith

[vikingsarememes]

His True Wife

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Main Characters: Hvitserk Ragnarsson, Ubbe Ragnarsson, Bjorn Ironside, Reader.

Characters Mentioned: Ivar the boneless, Original characters, baby goat, Lagartha, Gunnhild

Summary: it’s time for Hvitserk to take a step back into the real world, and it frightened you, but not as much as when you couldn’t find him and news that you weren’t very keen of. 

Word Count:   1998

A/N: thank you for all the comments and reblogs! I read every one of them and it made me build some badass plot for later! 

warnings: none

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It’s been a year now, a Yule was celebrated with no sign of him, your heart is healing slowly, you decided it was time for you to move on, it was time for you to live for yourself now, and once you are healed, you will find love again.

Hvitserk has recovered, he still had his nightmares and hallucinations but they were rare, they were violent but you found a way through them, he didn’t leave the farm, not even once, but today he’ll join you when you visit the city.

You smiled as you walked in your farm, it had grown so much, was blooming and very successful, your laborers were well fed and warm, you were developing your farm, day after day.

You had fruits that only grew in your field and vegetables from all over the world, you gazed at Hviserk who was happily playing with the baby goats, it only made you giggle, he carried one and headed towards you “look! She’s grown now!” he said introduced you to his pet, you petted the little animal that was now Hvitserk’s companion “I know Hvitserk, you spend so much time with her by now I’m sure she thinks you are her mother” you gained a little smile “I wish, her eyes are beautiful” 

You wrapped an arm around his back and kissed his cheek “Hvitserk Ragnarsson, mother of Brenda the goat” you announced dramatically, just to hear that beautiful laugh of his that you missed so much for the past few months, you appreciated those moments, they were rare “do I have to come to the market with you today? Can’t I stay here instead?” he asked, with his puppy eyes “love, you must come, I promised Ubbe you’d be there, besides, I’ll be by your side the whole time, we can look after each other no?” He looked down at his feet and hugged his little goat for comfort “what if I see them again?” He murmured, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders “then together we tell them to go away, we moved on, and we enjoy it” 

“Can I bring Brenda with me? Please?”, “love, Brenda wouldn’t like this trip, but I tell you what when we return she can stay inside with you, as long as you clean after her, I’ll even let her on the bed, but first we must visit the city, perhaps buy you a new pair of boots yours looks rotten!” You informed, Hvitserk wasn’t very happy about your decision but you only did what’s best for everyone including him, he trusted you enough, you weren’t sure of how he’d react and if things happen to get out of control, you couldn’t risk Hvitserk feeling bad because he couldn’t look after his little friend “do you want me to braid your hair?” You hoped it would cheer him up, after all, it’s been so long since anyone attended to his hair, nowadays he let it loose, Hvitserk nodded, you called for your workers to fetch you a comb and once they did, you and he sat on the grass.

You combed his golden hair ever so carefully not to hurt him, he petted his little goat quietly, he didn’t wince when you braided it, he barely moved, it felt somehow normal and that’s what mattered, once you were done, he thanked you and you sent him to play with the animals a while longer until it was time for the two of you to leave.

You sat in the back with Hvitserk by your side, Trys, and Elizabeth riding on the front, three horses dragging your cart, you could sense how stressed Hvitserk was about the whole visit but it was time for him to face his fears, it was time for him to remember there was a real-world out there for him, waiting, unlike you.

The two of you descended and you immediately took Hvitserk’s hand in yours, you wanted to remind him you were there and you wanted to have a hold on him in case he’d run away, now the mushrooms was near, the ale was near his ghosts had a hold of him “remember what we talked about?” you whispered, he nodded “stay by your side, tell you if something was wrong, and don’t wander away from your eyesight” you placed a little kiss on his cheek “good boy, take whatever you want it’s alright” you encouraged him and you went to a shop and searched through what they found in their latest adventures.

You had interest in one cup that had small diamonds on it, it was silver, “it’s from the Englishmen, doesn’t hold liquor enough but it looks beautiful, the gems are faux though, you can have it for a jar of milk” the owner of the shop exclaimed “an entire jar for this weird looking cup? Don’t you see it’s a little too much?” the man shook his head no “well, I tell you what, I’ll take the cloaks too and we have a deal” you bargained, he thought about it for a minute then agreed, the winter was cold, someone in your farm definitely needed a new cloak, you exchanged the goods and turned to look at Hvitserk, he was nowhere you could see, you called for him but he didn’t show up.

You stormed out of the shop into the streets, afraid that he might’ve used the chance of you being distracted to find his toxins, the two of you reached this far and it would be a shame if he just wasted it all like this, you kept thinking of the tears and the screams, the sleepless nights, and the sickness, you kept looking for him until you finally found him, in front of a juggler, who was singing the stories of their latest exploit, they told stories of the silk road, Hviterk’s was so focused he didn’t hear to all the times you called for him until you placed your hand on his shoulder, he looked at you confused.

It took him few seconds to connect the dots “Y/N I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you!” you smiled a little and wrapped your arm around his back “it’s alright, as long as you’re alright” you assured him, as long as he was safe, a mini heart attack can be forgiven “they are telling stories of birds that can talk! Can you imagine this? And many other wonders, Ubbe wanted me to lead the exploits but I couldn’t back then, perhaps one day I’ll go see those wonders, I’d take you with me of course” 

He talked so happily, it only made your smile grow bigger “you’d take me with you? I’m no shieldmaiden, I’d only hold you down” he frowned and stood in front of you “you don’t need to be a shieldmaiden to travel, Y/N, you will not be left behind” you started crying, he hugged you and kept apologizing, he didn’t understand what words he said that made you cry, he didn’t understand that you were left behind by the man you love, he didn’t hesitate or look behind, he left you all alone to suffer, you wished if he’d asked you that, but Hvitserk seemed to care more about you then he’d ever did.

You wiped your tears off and sniffed “I’m sorry, it’s nothing I promise” you assured him, he wasn’t convinced but by now he knew, if you didn’t tell him what’s wrong then it might be related to Ivar “come, let’s go to meet your brother, I’m sure he’s been worried about you” you said softly and started to walk towards the main hall, Hvitserk rushed to you and held your hand, just like you told him before, to always hold your hand if you’re walking, to stay where you can see him and to let you know if something was wrong.

Once you entered the hall, it went quiet and all eyes were on you, Hvitserk gave your hand a little squeeze, he didn’t seem comfortable with the sudden interest in him, in the farm, he was just a man, but here, he is Hvitserk Ragnarsson, expected to be a certain way that he had forgotten how “Hvitserk! Y/N!” Ubbe exclaimed as he made his way to you, giving you both a hug, you hugged back, you always did, “king Ubbe” you said respectfully, he laughed “not a king anymore, our true king returned, sadly with no crown on his head!” he teased Bjorn who sat on the throne, he walked to you and smacked the back of Ubbe’s head as if they were still children.

“Y/N, Hvitserk, it’s good to see you both doing well” Bjorn wasn’t a big fan of yours, mainly because you weren’t head over heels about him, just like every other girl in Kattegat.

Because whenever he tried to flirt with you, you’d turn him down, you’d embarrass him and send him with his tail between his thighs, and to Bjorn, it was something new, he hated being told no, and he’d do whatever he can to get what he wants and what he wanted was your attention, which he will never have.

Hvitserk gulped whenever his eyes drifted to the full hall, you weren’t sure if it was the people or the ghosts returning to him, “I thought Lagartha would join in as well?” you questioned, even though you hated the man’s guts, you had such respect to his mother, the famous shieldmaiden who your mother fought alongside when she was alive “I fear my mother’s village was under attack of thieves, she died fighting Whitehair, my wife’s there until she recovers” he informed, “she was a great woman, but she died with honor and now she’ll feast with Odin and Ragnar like she always wanted” you refused to celebrate her sadness, death wasn’t a sad thing to you, it was living that pained you the most, and even though she will be missed, she was finally reunited with the love of her life.

The two of you joined the Ragnarssons on the table, you broke your feast together, over a pig and good mead, later it was time for the ale rounds, however, Hvitserk wanted to no part in the rounds “brother, we didn’t take you for a quitter when it comes to drinking” Bjorn shouted, his drink was definitely reaching his brain, that if he had any, “things are different now, I prefer to stay sober, an oath I made to Y/N for looking after me all those months” he replied, eating instead “do I hear the wedding bells?” Ubbe teased.

Hvitserk looked at you then back at his brothers, you didn’t say a word, how can you tell them that you were married to another? That your husband was gone because of them? “No Ubbe, what you hear is what left of your sense telling you to stop drinking like an idiot” the older men laughed, “now for a minute we thought of you as a changed man! We didn’t recognize you! But here’s the Hvitserk we know!” Bjorn lifted his horn up and shouted “skol” everyone chugged their drink “now… we have some news, regarding Ivar, you must know of” Ubbe’s silliness melted behind this serious facial expression of his.

“What is it?” Hvitserk gulped and reached for your hand under the table, you took it, mainly because you needed the comfort as well “our men returned with stories of a cripple Norseman traveling alongside the silk road with some other men, he’s staying with the Rus” your eyes widened, he’s alive! Your husband’s alive! He’s definitely gathering an army now to come back to you! “If it was any other man, we’d think we’ve seen the last of him, we’d say he’d settled down in Rus but it’s Ivar, he’ll return Hvitserk and we must be ready,” Bjorn said.

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Tags: (let me know if you want to be tagged for this story) @youbloodymadgenius​ @lol-haha-joke​ @i-am-a-teenage-dirtbaggg​ @gearhead66​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @joebob15274​

Images source: stolen from google images.

#vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar vikings #bjorn lothbrok #vikings bjorn #bjorn ironside #bjorn ragnarsson #bjorn x reader #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe x reader #ubbe lothbrok #vikings ubbe #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #hvitty #ivar #ivar the god #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #lagartha #gunnhild #whitehair #fanfic #reader #ivar x reader #his true wife fic

[gilbirda]

What if the wolves arrive a little too late? What If Laurent did bite her? Bella fulfils her dream of being a vampire, but it quickly turns into a nightmare as she finds herself alone, hungry and heartbroken; with no one by her side to help her and guide her. When there's nothing left for her in this world, would she make the same decisions as if she were surrounded by her loved ones?

[Read on AO3][Read on FF.net]

I perfectly remember that day as if it were yesterday. Obviously, with this new vampire mind, I was able to remember every drop of rain that hit my face since I regained consciousness after burning for an eternity, every smell that assailed my nose, and even the taste of the first breath in this new life.

I remember the pain that hit me when I tried to get back my recent memories, like a sword stuck in the middle of my chest. My emotions moved to the front of my mind, amplified by this new body full of new sensations. The pain of rejection, helplessness at seeing me so lonely and despair knowing that everything that I had lived, that fantastic dream of just few months, was gone and never coming back.

Or so I thought.

When Laurent appeared in the meadow I never thought it would come to this. I remember with vivid clarity the voice of Edward’s illusion yelling at me to distract him and tell any lie, but silly me I didn’t do it on time. He lunged at me with those eyes, dark crimson from hunger, and I could barely register the pain of his fangs as almost immediately a new agony spread throughout my body. I did not register either when someone pushed away the body of the vampire feasting on my blood, nor heard the roars and howls filled with fury.

And that’s how I discovered that my best friend is a werewolf. The same day I was exiled from Forks, the day I woke up after what they said were three days of infinite hell, Jacob held my cold hand between his burning ones and looked at my eyes with a mix of feelings in theirs. He said, "You know, Bells? I really loved you, but now ... now that’s not possible.”

And just like that, everything I knew crumbled down before my very eyes. I could not mourn, I could not scream. I could not even move when I was left with my own means on the edge of the small town of Forks. I watched them go back to the reservation, turned into these huge animals designed to kill my kind, realizing that I’ve been spared only because of Jacob, and that I would never see my friend and my Sun again.

***

Living in the streets was relatively easy when you're a vampire. Never getting hungry, never feeling cold or never having to sleep. Eventually I stopped caring about my clothes or being covered with dirt or wandering aimlessly through the streets or not having a place to return to. I had no money, but I did not need anything, I only needed blood.

At first I refused to move from my refuge in the depths of a forest for fear of finding a human, but the thirst was so strange to me that it instinctively made me move. Before I knew it in my arms was the empty body of a hiker who had adventured too deep into the woods and had to be too close to a newborn vampire.

I wanted to die. I spent even more time locked away from humanity, remembering again and again the family of vegetarians who I still loved despite everything, thinking that he did not want me to become a monster. I'm still proud to have resisted the temptation the weeks that I did until my body simply disconnected from my mind and began acting on its own. I had to eat, it was just that, and the blood of the hiker was just too delicious. I could not go back to animals.

But that did not make me a monster. I was the same person, if this empty shell could be called person, no matter whose blood I drank. I did not enjoy the suffering of my victims, or found any fun in their terror or seeked entertainment that gave life to my long existence. Nor it sickened me. Simply it was what it was. I needed to eat, they were there within my reach. They did not even know what was that had happened to them as they never saw me coming.

Still, perhaps in honor of my lost love, I carefully chose my victims among the worst of worst kind, those who would die anyway or should not have been born, and I had to limit my thirst and keep it under a tight control.

And so in a slow succession of week after week, year after year, I rolled with my empty existence to the point where I forgot the sound of my voice, how my parents were called or why it had come to become this.

And you may ask, after so many years, have I not met any of my species? It is true that there are not many in the world, but pure statistics say that some should have crossed my path.

The truth is that I often saw several vampires, and at close distance. That was how I discovered I had the uncanny ability to be completely invisible. Not physically, but even if I were close enough for them to detect my scent, they never managed to find me, even taking them in circles until desisting and letting go. If I did not move and I focused enough, they couldn’t even see me. As if the place where I was wasn’t at all interesting, and when it seemed that they were going to look at me they turned to look elsewhere.

And so I never had any problems with other vampires; and if I didn’t want to be seen by humans I simply had to think about it and I became completely "invisible" to their low quality senses.

***

It was precisely that quirk what saved me from certain death.

The Volturi. I had the opportunity to watch firsthand how deadly they could be and the speed with which they came searching for me. If I did not have this power surely I would have died many years ago.

You see, when I felt strong enough to control my thirst to be among humans, I made the mistake of returning to Forks. Nostalgia, perhaps? I don’t know, I just knew I wanted to come back and see everything once again, have that closure that I was denied; and, silly me, to see if I would finally stop thinking so much of the months I spent in the town and the family of vampires that I met there. Obviously it was bad decision.

My father was destroyed. When I went to see him before going to the town, I looked through the window and there I saw him, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and empty beer bottles. It was about two in the afternoon and he should be at the police station, but was instead on the living room couch with a bottle in his hand and looking the TV screen without really watching what was on. In his hand, a sign of "Have you seen this girl?" with a photograph of my human version. He was incredibly aged even though I had not been gone for more than a few months, and I just knew that the gray hairs that had populated his head were completely my fault.

I could not look anymore and went to the school I never thought I’d yearn to see. I watched from the woods that surrounded it how everyone was going from one class to another and moved around campus, books in their hands and their faces full of concern for a lot of issues that were so alien to me now. I looked face by face for a known one but didn’t recognize any. My old friends had to be here, they were approaching final exams and graduation and they shouldn’t be allowed to skip class. As the minutes passed and all students were leaving after the last class, I analyzed every face feeling butterflies in my stomach. Perhaps I had forgotten them all? Forgotten Angela?

And I saw the face that I less wanted to see and, as if I really were so jinxed, she realized that I was watching and turned to see me. I did not have to see those eyes or blond hair to know it was her because the cry she let no more than two seconds after would be able to make me feel sick to the stomach had I been alive.

Lauren.

“Look what we have here,” she said, getting those who did not turn by her shriek do so now. And I felt everyone's eyes on me, on my face, in my white skin, my clothes that I have not changed since Laurent attacked me. It could not escape. “Our beloved Isabella Swan! The prodigal daughter returns home, huh?” She started walking towards me and I could hear her slightly accelerated pulse calling me. Imperceptibly I swallowed the poison that was gathering in my mouth. “We’ve been very worried, Bella,” she spat my name in disgust, “Where have you been all this time?”

From the giggles of the girls who accompanied her I did not have to be a genius to realize that Lauren had been spreading all sorts of nasty rumors about me and my disappearance. A few more people turned to see what was happening and gradually saw the recognition shine on their faces, followed by a range of expressions from surprise to disgust, passing through amusement.

The situation was so like a high school soap opera I couldn’t even feel afraid of what this human was trying to do to me. Inside my body there was just bloodlust and she was already too close.

“Bella!” a new person approached. Angela. “Oh my God, you're alive! I can’t believe it!”

I moaned, scared. No no no. Please do not get near me, I chanted in my head. But she ran to me with the solid intention to hug me, pushing Lauren out of her way. She threw herself into my arms, remaining motionless when she felt my cold and hard as stone skin. If I had a pulse it would be at full speed by the anxiety I felt at that moment.

I shouldn’t have come here. Damn, I shouldn’t have.

I could feel all eyes on me, on my face and especially on my red eyes. I could almost hear their thoughts thinking that I was Bella, but at the same time I was not; that was really obvious by the way their expressions changed  the following seconds.

I turned my eyes to Angela and swallowed once again the poison that had gathered in my mouth, feeling my will fade whenever her blood hit the same spot on the skin of her neck.

“Bella,” she whispered, raising a hand to touch my face, her eyes roaming my new perfect and dangerous features. “What happened to you?”

“That she underwent surgery to look like her Edward” Lauren answered for me, followed by a chuckle from the people around her. Other people just watched, some feeling obviously uncomfortable after realising that I was not human by now. “I can not believe you've fallen so low, Bella. I knew your obsession was not normal, but this...”

“Is that's true?”

“I do not think so…”

“God, and she seemed responsible.”

“Bells,” the girl in my arms caught back my attention, her pulse quickening, probably feeling a instinctual fear that she surely could not explain. And I knew I could not escape anymore.

Lauren approached us and roughly pushed away my human friend to look at me more closely. I returned her defiant gaze, feeling the poison flowing uncontrollably with every sweet human heartbeat from the girl that was trying to humiliate in public. But how little I cared about that now. There was nothing to humiliate me for anymore and saying things about the Cullen wouldn’t have any effect in me. They were gone and I had been left behind and I think the message was very clear. I had accepted that in my days of isolation.

The blonde huffed and turned to look at his followers, telling them something that I could not register because when she raised her hand to grab my hair, the concentrated scent of her blood through the thin skin of the wrist hit me right in the nose .

And my mind disconnected from my body, driven by a bloodlust that I always felt, leaping from body to body and emptying them quickly before they knew what had hit them. When I was finally full, my eyes focused back and I saw that in my bloody hands lay, lifeless although with a remnant warth, the body of maybe my only friend in my previous human life; her face frozen in a grimace of terror, perhaps a cry, and the ripped skin of her neck in a rather animalistic bite.

***

I still remember my frightened face in the videos that roamed the Internet the following days. Students who were far enough away to escape the massacre recorded everything with their phones (I guess they wanted record Bella's reaction to Lauren’s provocations), and obviously that went to the news.

Until suddenly everyone pretended that nothing had happened, the initial alarm replaced by weather news and everything was blamed on an occultist group making sacrifices to Satan. No one mentioned the word "vampire" and in a couple of months the situation was forgotten. And the Volturi were obviously behind.

I saw them track me with the perfection of a clock, one by one killing the witnesses who were not willing to let it go as another strange thing in the town of Forks. I saw them in person when they almost caught me outside Seattle, a day after the slaughter, as I wiped off the blood on my clothes.

They weren’t able to find me thanks to my power, but their breaths on my neck was a memory I did not want to keep the rest of my life. From what I could understand from their conversation, one was a tracker, as was James, and it was getting on his nerves not being able to accurately locate my position more than a general area. They never gave up, and although over the decades they stopped looking, I know they were in the shadows waiting to come out to get me, and probably destroy me.

***

I looked away from the lifeless eyes of the person who was my dinner while I wiped with my tongue the remnants of blood from my fangs, listening intently. Few people adventured so close to the outskirts of city at this time of the morning, at least not so silently, as would someone who was drunk or high.

I cocked my head and dropped some junkie’s empty body at my feet, a shudder running through me at the taste of his contaminated blood, to crouch in case that these new vampires were coming for me. But they did not approach the city and the people, they went to the forest and up to mountain. How strange, I thought, no vampire in hunting mode (because at that speed and perfection of movements they were not playing) would go to ...

Oh, well. Vegetarians.

An imaginary cold sweat made me squirm. I had never crossed paths with vegetarian vampires before and the chances of it being them were painfully high. I did not know if I wanted to see them though, mainly because of the suddenness and little time to prepare. Because I was sure that I have forgiven them. It was not their fault that Laurent was in the meadow at that time and it was just my own stupidity that had brought me into the wolf's den, pun intended. The Cullen had made the decision that best ensured the survival of the group and now I could see the logic in that. That’s why I had buried my feelings as deeply as possible and tried to rebuild my life all these years, as promised.

But, was I going to try to approach? With my power I wasn’t sure if they’d find me anyway and I would feel like a coward if I tried to hide and escape or wait for them to leave, especially when on my part there was no hostility.

I glanced at the dry body at my feet and sighed. While at this point I do not know if there was any hostility ... I did not hunt like them and it would cause some tension, I was sure. They would ask questions, try to change my way of life ... But  I do not think they’d reaccept me, especially if they knew that I am the most wanted vampire by the Volturi despite nearly hundred years from incident in Forks, and they could attack the family if the kings thought they were associated with me.

I sighed again, looking at the forest.

***

A couple of hours later, when I had buried my victim and had changed my clothes to something more suitable to wear, I went to track down the vampires I detected before. First I could hear and then finally I could see them pounce on a group of deer that did not know who attacked them.

Completely clean clothes and not a single spot of blood or a single hair out of place, Emmet, Rosalie and Carlisle were cleaned any stain on the lips as they stood on the clearing without knowing that I was watching them. I sighed mentally, it was now or never.

I left my hideout making my steps sound heavier and deliberately raised my arms to make me less of a threat. I've waited for them to finish hunting for a reason.

“Who's there -!?” Yelled the blonde turning to face me, her body turning to stone when she recognized me.

“What-” Emmet now turned.

I set my eyes on Carlisle when he finally looked at me, trying to make as if the surprise and horror that crossed his eyes did not affect me; as if the small icy dagger dug into my heart did not exist when they went into a defensive stance; or as if I didn’t feel my stomach turn itself out when they did not relax even though recognition shone in their eyes.

“Bella,” Emmet whispered, his face full of confusion. He looked at Carlisle not really knowing what to do in this situation.

“Oh my God,” Rosalie brought her hands to her mouth, “Edward will have a stroke.”

“Carlisle, what do we do?”

“Hm ....” he said, deep in thought.

I remained impassive as they deliberated, my gaze hovering between the three figures and my body still as a stone, as I was used to be. This was going to happen sooner or later and I was somehow grateful that these three have been those who were hunting when I found them.

“Bella, are you coming home with us?” I came back to reality and looked at him with all the force of my red eyes. I tried not to register the face he made at them.

I nodded silently without bothering to smile.

***

I still had not opened my mouth when I saw the house that so painfully reminded me of the one I knew in Forks and I wondered for a moment how many houses had the family around the world.

“Oh ...It’s good that he’s not at home,” whispered Carlisle and I immediately knew who he meant.

At the door Esme was waiting with her hand on her chest and the most serious face I have ever seen in her. I glanced past her to see what was behind. Alice was waiting for us in Jasper’s arms, sitting on the couch and staring at the horizon with an empty face transforming her perfect features into those of a doll. I set my eyes on Jasper when he got up into a defensive pose.

I cocked my head going over his scars with my eyes, on his beautiful golden eyes, remembering the details of his difficulty adapting to the vegetarian lifestyle. Had he finally gotten the hang of it? I smiled cautiously wishing things with Jasper about our past were less strained.

“What happened? What is she doing here?” hissed the blond, one hand hovering near Alice.

“Jazz …” Esme put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at me apologetically.

“No offence taken,” I finally spoke with my little used but beautiful voice, “is a normal reaction.”

“Bella, how is it that you are ... alive” said Alice when she got out of the trance. She looked about to cry. And I knew that she wasn’t just asking about my life status.

“How long …?” Carlisle sat in the chair beside me.

“Oh, Bella. What happened to you?” Esme dropped on the armrest of the couch where her husband sat.

I looked around observing every little detail of the great room, recognizing a couple of objects and giving myself unnecessary nostalgia. I lowered my eyes to Carlisle and Esme, Emmett, Jasper and Rosalie, Alice's horrified eyes. I could almost see the thoughts going full speed on her head.

“Sometimes, although we think that a situation is over and done with, problems do come back,” I said finally letting myself go down my memories of that afternoon when Bella Swan died. “Even if James was more than dead, Victoria and Laurent were hovering too close to Forks, waiting.”

“Oh no,” Esme gasped, one hand on her mouth. I nodded and smiled softly.

“She wanted revenge and was trying to figure out the best plan to get to me. She recruited Laurent, who had given up your lifestyle, and was around Forks those days. I found him by chance and he was too hungry to wait for her.” My smile turned slightly downwards at the memory.

And then I explained what had happened to me since then, my power, my current diet, Forks’ incident and why I had decided to come and see them after so many years. Various stages of horror crossed their faces and eyes, and I really don’t know what part of my story had shocked them more. I no longer cared. The strong need for acceptance that I felt before when I was human had faded over the decades of a life where I had no one else beside me to impress, or a place to belong. I just got used to the fact that I had to be myself to survive.

It would hurt if they couldn’t accept this new “me”, but I wasn’t willing to change now to fit in the Cullens. Even if that was still an option.

When I finished my tale I stayed standing right there with a tiny smile, trying to ease the obvious tension in the air. I watched them pass a hand through their hair, sigh, look everywhere... except my red eyes.

I knew what they were thinking, of course I did. I didn’t need Edward hearing their thoughts to know what they were thinking. It only took looking into their golden eyes, the tension in the muscles under the skin of granite or slightly pursed lips in concentration to know the answers.

***

The cool evening breeze cradled my hair as I sat on a rock near the back door of the humble but enormous cabin-mansion that the Cullen had chosen as home in some well hidden place in the forest. I wondered vaguely if it was on purpose and if they did not want to make life in this city by being so far from humanity. Did the years change their modus operandi? Or it was just that this place was a temporary thing and they thought that having to leave early was enough reason to not be necessary to show a façade of normal human.

I sighed.

With my eyes closed I heard him before he reached the house, his steps being slightly lighter and faster than the others’, his sweet scent assailing my nose. I could recognize it anywhere even after all that happened, I thought sadly. I felt the slight tug on my chest where my dead heart was that had nothing to do with the pain that initially felt when I thought about him. I sighed, as this has brought me the opportunity to be sure that yes, I had forgiven everything that happened and that no, I didn’t want to give it another chance. Friendship, perhaps, but our “bond” broke so many years ago and over time the possibility of fixing it had faded into nothing.

I straightened up on my place, getting into a perfect Greek statue impersonation and waited for him to appear.

A slight breeze and the sound of his rapid breathing told me the time to open my red eyes, fixing them into his soft creamy golden ones, ignoring the grimace that he made for a second at the intensity of my ruby eyes, those of a freshly fed. His expression was a frightening mixture of horror, shock, disbelief and denial at what was happening, telling me everything I needed to know and confirm that for him things were different now. I vaguely wondered if he had met someone else or if he had somehow moved on; but knowing how things are as a vampire, as I do now, you never really "turn over a new leaf".

I got up with unnecessary slow, for our species, and smiled.

“Hello, Edward. It’s been a long time, isn’t it?”

***

“I don’t understand why he does this,” Alice mumbled while walking in circles in the corner, “I'm so sorry, Bella, I did not expect him to react that way.”

“Oh, honey …” Esme sobbed and collapsed in my arms. Carlisle was right behind her with pursed lips and lost in thought, one hand on his wife's waist, offering silent support.

I sighed for the thirty-fourth time that night.

I turned my eyes to Emmet and Rose sitting on the couch, her arms crossed and a frown on her face, him with an arm around the blonde's shoulder as if he were supporting her, but I knew better. He was holding her in place to stop her from killing someone. Jasper has followed Edward when he ran away.

I patted the weeping mother could that couldn’t cry and rested my head on hers, trying to reassure her that nothing was wrong and that I was okay.

“It’s okay, Esme. Somehow I am not surprised that he reacted that way. I remember that he was very much against my turning and that he was ... sickened of this lifestyle” everyone in the room knew that I was not referring only to being a vampire, but my chosen diet.

“But he you called monster” Esme said in my ear with a disbelieving voice. I closed my eyes tightening the embrace. I was not used to people worrying about me, much less in a motherly way, and I loved the detail. “He has no right to do so. When he gets home he will have to face a very angry Esme.”

Emmet looked at her with wide eyes and somehow I knew it would not be pretty. I smiled widely and pushed her gently out of the embrace to look at her eyes, giving her a slight squeeze on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Esme. For real. I'm fine.”

The other pursed her lips, upset by the situation but understanding what I meant, which I appreciated. After all that had happened I did not want to make this bigger than it was and if Edward wanted to behave so selfishly it was neither my right nor my responsibility to correct it. He was a big boy now.

I went to the couch to sit besides Emmet and slightly leaned on his shoulder, feeling his heavy breathing like a large animal, going through my thoughts about the brief but intense argument with the vampire that as soon as he saw my red eyes shouted that I "was not Bella". Or, at least, was not the same Bella who he had left in Forks.

He said that instead I had become ... something. A monster, I know he wanted to say, and I told him so. He did not deny it.

Still I do not know what hurt more, the expression on Edward’s face or the cowardice he proved to have when he turned around and run the other way. The worst part is that in my mind I was not able to match the image of the Edward I fell in love with back in Forks’ high school, so ethereal and perfect, and that always knew what to what to do; with this Edward, ironically more humane and unable to confront the ghosts of his past. And that had preferred to flee rather than accept that he was wrong those years ago, that I had changed to be someone else.

***

A few hours later and after many farewells, promises to meet again more often, having gotten a satellite cell phone and exchanged numbers with all of the Cullen, I was standing on the porch of their home saying goodbye with my hand and a big smile on the face. The weight that was on my chest had disappeared almost completely, a small thorn with the name of a certain vampire with coppery hair uncomfortably digging in my side.

I hadn’t taken two steps when I felt him coming towards me at full speed. I turned to see what he wanted from me, trying to make my face as emotionless as possible so it did not show how upset I was with him for calling me "monster".

“Bella…” he whispered, frowning. He ran a hand through his hair nervously. I remembered that gesture, how weird. “I'm sorry. That wasn’t an exemplary behavior.”

“Not much,” I simply answered. My honesty seemed to throw him back for a moment.

“I’ve really had a hard time accepting that ... Well, what you are.”

“A vampire. Yeah,” I said looking into the woods behind me. “Edward, I'll be frank with you. It’s been almost a hundred years and I have forgiven what happened. I've moved on, or what we call in this long existence ‘move on’,” he nodded in understanding, a sad glint in his gaze, “but those times are never coming back.”

I could see in his eyes that he knew where I wanted to go with those words and any speech he had prepared crumbled into dust leaving only bare emotions. He was confused, sad, and with the expression of a helpless child and for a second I felt like hugging him. He had spent at least fifty years of his life thinking that I was dead, I had to concede him that. And I would be just as confused if suddenly someone appeared at my house, a vampire whom I believed had died of old age as a human.

“I understand,” he took my hand gently, but there was nothing romantic about it then. “I regret even more deeply for having made this reunion so awkward. Please come back home more often. We've really missed you…”

“Will do,” I smiled and walked over to give him that hug we both needed.

And I could see the rays of a possible friendship starting from scratch. A less lonely life, without carrying my sorrow by myself or not having anywhere to go. At least there was a family of vegetarian vampires who would come to help without thinking twice, no matter what happened. And I would obviously do the same for them.

***

I blinked feeling that the lenses that Alice had given me were clouding my vision more and more. Argh! It was so uncomfortable.

But the need to blend in better with humans was greater since my red eyes did not go as unnoticed as the golden ones of the vegetarians and I could not focus on my power long enough to not rely on extra help to avoid being discovered.

Right now I was trying to buy new clothes without going crazy in the process and I haven’t been even fifteen minutes into the mall when the phone that the Cullen had given me this year rang. The other one worked perfectly fine, but their excuse was that it had to be up to date with the new technologies. I was not one to deny them anything when Esme looked at me with such intensity.

“How dare you go shopping without calling me!” said the high-pitched voice of the pixie from the other side of the line. I sighed.

“Alice, I'm not even "shopping". I just needed some new clothes-” but, of course, I was interrupted.

“I'll be there in ten minutes. Don’t you dare to move!”

I blocked the phone with a small smile. My life had changed since I decided to contact the Cullen family, and it had been for the better. They treated me like one of them but not pressured the issue of Edward, and I appreciated it. I wanted to be myself, and eventually they had accepted my human diet so it was no longer any problem between us. They had also stopped trying to convince me to switch to vegetarianism, although occasionally they brought it up jokingly.

My smile broadened as I raised my eyes to the dark sky with gray clouds. This was not the life as vampire  I had wanted so many years ago, but it was the life where I had done the best I could with the cards that were given to me. And knowing this made me feel more complete than ever.

#twilight fanfiction #twilight #bella swan #edward cullen #new moon #new moon au #alternate universe #fanfic #fanfiction #writeblr #canon divergence #gil writes

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Two brains are better than one | Morgan & Alain

Morgan insisted on going to the butcher herself sometimes. The stores of brains at home were plentiful enough, Morgan couldn’t remember a time when there hadn’t been a few specimens in the shed out back. But since accidentally having a taste of what, as Deirdre gently reminded her, she was meant to feast on, she found herself speeding up the time between meals, hoping that if she stuffed herself with enough squirrels and deer and racoons she might forget that people taste like a three course dinner meal at midnight. That angst didn’t even take into account that she was trying to space out her feedings a little more so she wouldn’t be caught with puny, mortal strength with a hunter again. The whole situation was a mess. But, as a reasonable, grown-ass zombie girl who was definitely not resenting the blandness of squirrel brain, she could go to the butcher and top herself off easy. She rocked on her feet in line, her number pinched between her fingers as she waited.

Sometimes she liked to wonder how many of the customers were like her. A woman had just left with a hefty tub of pig’s blood. And the man at the counter now was asking for brains too. Morgan watched him take his number and mosey to where she waited, comfortable as anything, if not a little tired in his bones. Had he been dead for long? Was it a new death weight, or something much older? Morgan smiled at him. “Don’t see  a lot of people asking for brains around these parts,” she said. “You cook like that a lot?”

Alain did not use to have a thing for cooking offals, but as years passed and he became more sensitized to the consequences of the meat industry, but could not bring himself to give up on eating meat, he had decided that he would start using parts who were usually doomed to end up to the trash, and to turn them into savoury dishes. Veal liver was one of his favorites, but sheep brain was a close second, and exactly why he had pushed the butcher’s door today. Fidgeting idly with his fingers, he waited for his turn, not paying too much attention to his surroundings but rather thinking of who had died instead of him. He had managed to convince himself that it was just an elder who was passing by the shop as Regan screamed, but not knowing for sure was far from pleasant.

He picked up the number given to him and moved to the side to wait. He eyed at the woman smiling at him and refrained a frown. Instead he raised an eyebrow, and scoffed in surprise as she started to talk about his order. Well, it was nice to see that he was not the only one who had taken in interest for pieces that most people would have deemed disgusting. “Oh. Ahem,” he cleared his throat. Well if this did not make it obvious that he was not  good at small talk, what would ? “I do, actually, what about you? I’m planning to make Pad thai with it,” he explained, uncrossing his arms and relaxing a bit in his stance. Talking about cooking was a nice way to start a conversation with him for sure.

Morgan was warmed by the man’s awkwardness more than anything else. Maybe if they had a secret sense, like the fae did, it might all be easier. Here there was no instant safety and, heck, for all she knew, there were hunters trolling the parking lot or working in the shop. It was only paranoia if she was wrong, right? She let out a breath, remembering that this was not the time to let her body return to its natural resting state of death, and smiled again. “Pad Thai?” She asked. “That sounds way more appetizing than the casserole I have planned. I’m uh, still kinda new to cooking this way. But you—“ she couldn’t get a sense of him beyond that he mostly wanted to go home, and who could blame him? “You sound almost like a pro at this, yeah?”

“Southern Asian cooking is really interesting,” Alain replied as she mentioned that she had planned to make a casserole with her purchase. It was not a bad idea, but she would get tired of it, eventually. “I’ve done quite a few casserole with those,” you could tell from his tone that he was not exactly thrilled about these anymore. “I would not say I’m a pro, although I did place second in the pie contest,” he scratched at his cheek and shrugged. He had not expected a win, considering his pie was possibly the most simple in the contest but he’d been glad to see that taste mattered more than aspect to the judges. “Anyway, I feel like cooking is about being able to turn something no one likes, into something great that people will want to eat no matter the ingredients.” Calf sweetbread was another one of his favourites, and it made him wonder if brains could be nice in a vol-au-vent. “I think you should try making Vol-au-vent with those. That might work  well,” he assured her, a bit too enthusiastic perhaps, than one should be about brains.

So brain casserole wasn’t a thrilling time for other zombies too, not just her. Morgan smirked at his knowing tone. It was kind of a shame. Nothing was more of a staple from her childhood suburbias like a baked casserole. She should have made more when she was alive. Now that brains were the only worthwhile food, all she could see them as were wasted tubs of mush. “Wait, you won the pie contest?” She asked, a little heartened that at least it was someone who had a hard time tasting. “With what? Don’t tell me a brain pie. Did you at least get a fun prize?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about his philosophy. She liked working with things she knew people would like, especially when she could taste so little of it herself. If she managed to taste anything that wasn’t brains or ‘why yes, my tastebuds can still catch fire,’ it was the kind of ghostly whiff of flavor she was used to getting at the bottom of a seltzer can, which was, more or less, nothing. “Okay, prize winner guy,” she said. “Tell me what a--” she hesitated, certain she was going to butcher the syllables, they were already turning fuzzy in her head. “Vole-a-vent? Is? And I’ll give it a try. Soon, even, with this order.”

“I’m pretty sure a brain pie would have earned me a place in the flop 3,” his shoulders jolted up as he held back his laughter. If Alain could avoid having the whole butcher shop look at him, he would avoid it. “I made a tatin pie. Apples, sugar and butter. I used to have that all the time when I was a kid,” he scratched at the stubble on his cheek and shook his head at her next question. Nope, a karkinoid was not really the kind of prize he wanted to win in a contest, but the certificate was nice. “A goddamn lobster. Not a big fan of seafood, unfortunately,” he gave her a shrug and let his eyes wander toward someone who was picking up bones for his dogs. Heh, now he remembered what he had forgotten to ask the butcher for. “Mmh?” He held up his finger and repeated slowly “Vole o vent. It means flies in the wind, in French. It sounds fancier than it is. It’s puffed pastry and a creamy sauce with sweetbread. I think you can replace this with brains and perhaps, to really enhance the taste of brains, you could mix some directly into the sauce,” his brows furrowed. This should work. It probably would make one hell of a recipe for people like them who enjoyed those parts the rest of people sulked at.

Morgan took out her phone and started taking notes on her phone. It sounded decadent. The texture of the pastry would at least shake things up, and a sauce--she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything for herself that came with a sauce. As she took it all down, she felt an odd twist of guilt, it was a lot of trouble for something she had to eat by herself. Maybe she could share it with Remmy if they would ever talk to her again, but that was a fat chance. She smiled kindly at the French zombie all the same. “It sounds like you’ve really got your stuff together,” she said. “Um, can I---” She hesitated and searched the shop. No one around screamed hunter, at least. “I just kinda wonder, don’t you ever find it hard? Getting up every day with your real life behind you, trying to figure out how to put all the days in front of you into some kind of sense. Even if it’s longer than what you had before it’s not the same. And you can’t really explain it to most people, because they’ll never understand what it’s like to be like you in the first place. Uuh...it’s okay, if this is too forward. We don’t actually know each other and---” She checked the order counter. One second, three seconds, five-- “Yep! That’s my number, so, we can be good, really.”

“Wow, this got quite existencial really fast,” scoffing to himself, he brushed his laughter hand with a motion of the hand, making it clear that he was not making fun of her at all, but rather surprised by this turn of event. “But to answer to your question, I make do. Besides, you never know what tomorrow might be made of,” he shrugged. Part of what she said made him raise his eyebrows. Could it be possible… that she heard about the banshee scream? It was true that he had more time left than a week ago… technically. “How did you…” he shook his head. Nevermind how she knew. “You’ll send me pictures of your vol-au-vent ? If you need tips, I can send you a copy of my recipe notebook,” he offered. She went to pick up her order and he nodded politely at her. Alain, who had never been one for small talk, had started chatting more easily with others recently. Maybe being happier had helped him open up to people. Either way, it was nice and he couldn’t recall the last time he felt as if things were nice. “It was lovely talking to you.”

“Sorry, just been thinking too much to myself probably,” Morgan said lightly. She hadn’t realized that he didn’t put together the connection between them and it was far too awkward, too public to say, oh, I’m a month and change on the other side of death, how about you? But she gave him a warm look and hefted her brain supply for good measure before tucking it into her woven grocery bag. “Oh, you know, lucky guess,“ she said. “I can be too forward sometimes, I know. But we can chit chat on main, like normal people, if you want. Even without the existential angst! I’m Morgan. And you are—?”

“Who doesn’t,” Alain brushed it off, and glanced away from her, looking up at the order counter. It would not be long for him either, now. The piece of paper with the number on was now all crumpled from him fidgeting with it. He took his eyes back to her and watched her pack her purchases. “No harm done. I tend to be the exact opposite of that, so that’s a nice balance,” he almost smiled. Still there was kindness in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. “Let’s. Be normal people with the right amount of existential angst only,” his lips pursed before he replied. “I’m Alain.”

#chatzy #para morgan #wickedswriting

[lunamusings]

Gravity Well

Chapter 3: Pocket-Sized for Your Convenience

A Loki x Lithium Fanfiction (CanonxOC)

Set before the events of Thor, Loki receives as large mysterious crate of alcohol the day before his birthday. What seems like a strange yet benign gift from an anonymous person ends up being more than he, or the woman at the bottom of the crate bargained for.

Chapter Warnings: Drinking games (?)

~~~~~~~~~

Over breakfast, Loki glanced back and forth between his dear mother and the strange little woman from the crate. Frigga demurely sipped her tea, making light conversation as they ate. The topic largely revolved around what the day's events would be like. That is to say, full of public appearances early on and culminating in a large feast all through the palace and it's expansive front courtyard. All this he already knew.

What he had not realized was that Lithium would clean up as well as she had. With her hair up and now in a dress, she seemed more like an adult woman than the mess she had been. At the same time, he did rather like the previous look, if he was honest with himself. The disheveled state she was in when busted her way out of the crate had it's charms as well.

He also had to admit that her simple sleeveless shirt with the word “NO” on it did attract attention to her more prominent...features.

His mother was a subtle woman, so much that he knew Lithium did not realize what Frigga had done, putting her in a dress with that particular lining. As his little surprise lady ate enthusiastically, little peeks of delicate acid green fabric flashed in his direction from the bells of her sleeves. Anyone with working eyes during any of the festivities today would know who's "guest" she was by that alone. When she stood up to fetch another tea cup for herself, the pleated dip-dyed underskirt of the same brilliant shade as the other linings drove home that point.

Loki had no doubt his mother meant this particular detail for Lithium's protection. Most people were not keen on crossing him, even if he had sensed the undercurrent of disregard for him in certain spheres of ability the vast majority of his life. Making it clear that she was somehow attached to him was ideal for her.

But it was strangely ideal for himself as well. They had yet to get into what was to become of this little lady and this clear show of possession nested quite perfectly into what he intended to do. He had spent the time before falling asleep mulling over his options and almost all of the options he had say in, which was most of them, led to one conclusion.

He was going to keep her around.

Sure, he ran the risk of Thor going on about her being "part of the family", but the idea of having a person around who had no preconceptions about him was far too tempting to resist. She was also a mystery to him. Most of the women, and even some men he knew, would have had at least a cry of surprise running into someone in the dark, but she merely put up her hands up and tried to put space between them. She did not read as a trained warrior, especially now, her eyes lighting up like a child as she poured her tea out of a clear glass pot which displayed the flowers and leaves that had been steeping in it.

His biggest question though, was why, in the two times she went into the bathroom by herself, did she not turn on the light? Even when his mother went in with her to help with the particulars of her dress, she only did so when Frigga asked. Add that she saw his decoy's movements far faster than most he had used it on and it left him with a large battery of questions about her.

His mother's voice broke him from his thoughts. "Now that we have finished up, it's probably a good time to discuss what is going on here and how we proceed with you."

Lithium sipped her tea while nodding, surprisingly not spilling any in the process. Maybe he was just too used to spending time with his brother. The man was not what one would call graceful, yet it somehow worked for him.

Because you don’t have to be graceful when your mode of operation is “hit it with a hammer and ask questions never”...

"So it was said you were in that crate. However did you get there?"

Am I ever grateful Mother can concentrate where I cannot...it’s still too early in the morning for me...

Lithium sighed. "Well, I can't say for certain, but I have the feeling I was "dealt with", so someone could take over my brewery. Said someone was bent out of shape because his father left the place to me instead of him, as I was the better brew master."

Loki smirked. "And better at naming your collections. Pfft, Imperial indeed."

"Yeah, I had sort been in charge of branding too and it annoyed the hell out of him." She made a face into her cup. "He somehow thought Galaxy wasn't regal enough a name. Too girly and purple, which I take personal offense to, as purple is my favorite color. And also ridiculous because I’m pretty sure galaxies don’t have a gender."

Loki laughed dryly. "I'm guessing this man did not even know what a galaxy is."

Frigga stifled a chuckle herself. "I'm sorry you had to deal with such a person. But how did you end up here? I saw on the crate that it, and thus you, are not from Asgard. We have had little contact with Midgard for many centuries now."

Well, most had little contact with Midgard...not all...

Lithium's mouth moved but no words came out for a few moments. "Um, what's Midgard? I get that here is Asgard but I don't actually know where Asgard is either."

Frigga and Loki shared a look before she answered. "My dear, it seems you have not heard about the Nine Realms. Have you ever learned of the Norse people of Midgard? We are who they patterned their gods from."

Loki could practically see the wheels turning in the poor woman's head as a look of realization slowly crept onto her features. "Wait…you mean the Norse people on Earth? Are you saying the realm of Midgard is Earth? And Asgard is not on Earth?"

Frigga's smile was one Loki remembered fondly from his younger years, the one she gave him when he had mastered a new spell or did particularly well in his studies. "Yes, that is correct. It's been so long since I had heard it called that, I had practically forgotten the name."

Lithium rested her cup in her lap, wrapping her fingers tightly around it. "So…I'm not on Earth at all then…if that's the case,  I have no clue how my uncomfortable mode of transportation ended up here."

She took another sip of tea, but Loki could not miss her hands shaking. "Bart was too chicken to actually dispose of me the conventional villain way, so he sent me to a whole other planet…"

There was a measure of silence from all of them for a moment as the poor woman stared deeply into the soft pink liquid in her cup. Whoever this Bart was, Loki was already sure he would throw that man through a window if he ever met him.

And that was only if he was feeling amicable that day.

That decided, he brought them back to the conversation this time. "Should we assume that this puts you in a particularly difficult situation if we were to return you to Midgard? If this Bart was willing to send you here, surely he would decide to take more drastic action upon you if you suddenly reappeared."

"Given the argument we had before I woke up in a crate, that's a good assumption." She sat back in her chair, making another lopsided face of irritation. "He was demanding I give him the business while we were literally at his father's grave site...either sign it over or marry him….and I was in no mood to talk about that. I went home, drank a large mug of coffee and then…I'm here."

Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, debating on whether or not to put a hand on her shoulder would be appropriate. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds like you are in need of a place to stay. Would you be opposed to staying here? I'm sure Mother would suggest much the same."

Frigga gave him a look he understood, but Lithium likely would not. "Perceptive as always. I see no reason we could not find room for you."

"It's not like you take up much space after all."  Loki sent the surprised woman a little smirk.

A smile broke her surprised expression. "What can I say? I'm pocket-sized for your convenience."

"Well, that's settled then. I shall go take care of those preparations as well as the others I need to attend to." Frigga stood. "There is much to be done today, so I'm sure Loki would not mind you staying here until the arrangements for you are finished."

If Loki was not aware of his mother's abilities, he would have sworn she was reading his mind. "Of course."

Once Frigga was out the door, Loki refilled Lithium's tea cup and sat back. "I am going to have to make my public appearance soon and I will not be able to be here most of the day. It would be best if you kept to yourself for that time."

Lithium tilted her head. "That makes sense. I would probably get myself hopelessly lost anyway."

"You're not wrong. I will show you around after today. Your timing was not entirely helpful."

"If I could have made the necessary adjustment, I would have." She smirked, and something about the way she held her lips struck him as odd, as if she flaring the upper curve of her top lip more than needed.

Just one more question I have…

"I'm sure you would have." He smirked back. "Regardless, I would like to invite you to the feast this evening. It's a rather informal affair, and Mother did dress you appropriately for it. "

Lithium's eyebrows shot up, and her mouth hung open for a moment. "Really? I mean…"

"As I said, it's informal. Mostly food, drink and dancing if you've have the skill or enough of the drink." He stood, smoothing out the front of his tunic reflexively. "If it becomes too much, you can always leave before it ends. I would not be offended, merely jealous that you can escape sooner than myself."

"I think I will go then. Sounds like I might help you stay sane."

Loki smiled as he turned to ready himself for the more exhausting parts of the day.  Before entering the bathroom, he glanced back over his shoulder at the woman now pouring herself another cup of tea. Yes, the surprise on everyone's face this evening, when he walked in with a Midgardian woman, was going to be more than enough to make up for any expense keeping her around would entail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lithium tied off the embroidery floss she has been working with mere moments before Loki walked in with a number of items in his arms, Thor following with even more shiny trinkets. She shoved her work into a spacious hidden pocket in the pleated layer of her skirt and stood up as they entered.

Loki gestured to the sitting area. "Just put them on the table over there."

Thor's blinding grin lit up when he saw her standing there. "Hello again, Tiny Lithium! I heard you will be staying here because things went badly for you in Midgard. I'm sure you will love it here!"

Lithium blinked several times. Even talking normally, Thor was just too loud for her ears, like the man existed perpetually in all-caps.

"Ah, yeah. I'm not worried about liking it here. The view from the window is better than anything I've seen in most of my life."

Loki appeared beside Thor and began pushing him toward the door. "I need to get ready for the feast, you can go now."

Lithium giggled as Thor attempted to keep talking to her, Loki interrupting him with every sentence.  Once he had the door closed in Thor's face, he sagged against it, though his face had a small amused grin.

"My apologies for Thor, he suffers from a case of excessive enthusiasm at all times." He rubbed his forehead. "It can be tiring to be around."

"One of my brothers was like that too." Lithium felt a twinge of pain, remembering that brother, but pushed it back down. Now was not the time to get into her whole life story. "It won't bother me too much."

"Then you have more patience than I possess." Loki shook his head. "Speaking of, do you need to do anything before we head out? People are already gathering for the feast."

Lithium shrugged. "I thought you said you needed to get ready."

"That was to get rid of Thor." He approached her and circled her for a moment. "I will say, you do need a little maintenance."

Lithium froze as he moved around a few locks of her hair. The logical part of her brain let him do what needed to be done, as it was not like she could do much. Her hair skills were lacking compared to what magic Frigga had made of hers. The other part of her brain though, was sounding a confused proximity alarm.

This would be a good time to NOT have the equivalent of the second best nose in nature….

His scent was nice though, a mostly natural with a slight overlay of what she guessed what soap, that should could not deny.

"There you go, back to the way it was." He smiled a little, with no trace of the smirk she had seen much of the past day. "Shall we go, then?"

Lithium felt her chest tighten the closer they came to the buzz of conversation and smell of thousands of unfamiliar but pleasant food smells.  Whether is was just from nervousness, or also because she was having to take two steps for each of Loki's one, she was not sure. She was never so glad when he stopped before a set of doors flanked by a pair of guards. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Are you alright?" Loki glanced down at her.

"Yeah, just haven't worn a dress in a while." She glanced to the guard at her left, who nearly imperceptibly snorted with laughter. "I guess I worked too much to have time to be fancy."

Loki chuckled. "Well if it eases your nerves, you do not look like you are struggling."

He held out his hand to her. "Now we should make a proper entrance. "

She stared at his hand, head tilting. "Um…how does that work?"

He nodded to his hand. "I'll escort you in, they announce me and you and then you are free to move about as you wish. My recommendation is to visit the dessert table first. The kitchen staff are always kind enough to include a coveted selection of chocolate items."

She was not about to say no to a good chocolate dessert, but the way Loki's eyes lit up, she wondered just how much was actually available, and how deep was the man's love of chocolate. She took his hand, as she was trying to push all these question to the back of her mind. No matter how calm he was about this, she had spent most of the day practicing moving in the multiple layers of her dress, when she was not working on the little project in her pocket.

Then the guards opened the doors.

Loki's pace as slower, though whether or not it was to match her short strides or to up the dramatic level of them walking in was yet to be seen. She barely heard them being announced, only just registering that she was announced as Lithium of Midgard. The rush of blood in her ears and to the surface of her face at all the eyes suddenly on the two of them took most of her brain's attention.

Loki leaned down and whispered. "You can go now, I have to deal with a few things…like my father, but do find your way to that chocolate cake at the end of the table. It is particularly wonderful."

She watched him walk away toward where Frigga was, sitting next to an older man with an eye patch, who she figured was the father in question. She stood there for a moment before heading to the table. She figured if she had something to do with her hands and was actively eating , she would not have to mingle too much, even if the strangers around her where more inclined that she was to do that.

Oh how very wrong she was.

Thor spotted her and the crowd parted to let him through.  "TINY LITHIUM, WHERE ARE YOU GOING? COME JOIN US!"

Lithium did not have the option of protesting. Thor pulled her over to a table of people holding large mugs of some alcoholic beverage, fast enough she was not sure her feet actually touched the floor on the way over. Their faces were kind, but she still felt weird without Loki there. She tried to find him in the crowd but apparently all Asgardians present were giant compared to her.

Thor plopped her down on a bench next to himself. "You arrived just in time for a drinking game. We are in need of a judge."

A small smirk spread across her face, Maybe this would be fun afterall. "Well, I'm afraid you'll have to find someone else to judge. If it’s a drinking game you're doing, I plan to play."

Thor stared at her like she was growing another head right there at the table. "You?"

"Yes, me. I am a brew master. Do you think I can't drink?" She shook her head. "Get me some and I'll show you what real drinking is."

One of the other people at this part of the table, a large red-haired man, laughed. "Let her try. It will be fun to watch."

Thor hesitated all the more. "True, but if she dies from her alcohol hubris, I'm the one who has to deal with Loki's vengeance."

Lithium shook her head. "Trust me, you won't need to worry about that. Now get me that drink!"

#gravity well #loki #lithium #loki x lithium #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #canon x oc

[tershuh]

Miraculous Rant

I've been watching this show since the first season was added to Netflix. Now, I'm 21 years old & I adore cartoons. I can binge watch a really good cartoon multiple times. But Miraculous just hasn't seemed to make much progress since the show started. I loved the show at first & I really expected it to become such an amazing show, but it seems to just be going downhill. First off, the "shipping" war that happens in the show especially between all the girls. This show is targeted at small children & preteens & it's sending the wrong message to people who have crushes. No, if someone is uninterested in you, you do not make the decision to keep pursuing them just because you "love" them. Constantly pushing yourself into someone is wrong & you need to teach people early on that this behavior is not okay. It makes you believe you're entitled to someone's feelings when you're not. If someone doesn't feel the same way about you, do not harass them about your feelings. They are not required to return them. I loved the idea of the love square, but seeing each part of them interact makes them seem kind of.. well.. toxic. On both their parts. Marinette basically STALKS Adrien instead of actually becoming his friend. She has his whole schedule marked on her calendar & makes a note of where he's at each second of the day. I'm sorry girl, but if you're not even able to talk to him straight, how did you even get that information? She's broken into his locker & stolen his personal belongings multiple times. Now, Chat Noir towards Ladybug is EXTREMELY toxic. He constantly flirts with her knowing she does not like it & has asked him multiple times to stop. You may think loving nicknames between teammates are cute, but there is a point where when someone tells you not to call them something it gets irritating. We call this playful banter as they're teens, but if they were adults this would not be okay with many people. & not to mention that he constantly gets angry at her for not returning his feelings. Yes okay, it may take a lot for someone to tell someone about their feelings, but that person is NOT required to reciprocate them. & it is NOT okay to keep pursuing someone after they've told you multiple times they are in love with someone else. Now apart from this, the writing seems to forget lots of development from the characters & their previous on-screen experiences. You would think Gabriel would become more powerful remembering the right people akumatize (like Natalie into Catalyst or Lila pretty much ANYTIME) or even be suspicious of Adrien & the ring he always wears. Yes he is a terrible father, but as a villain knowing his enemies & having faced him in person at least twice, you would think he would start to get more suspicious of his son having the same voice, same hair, same ring finger. I get that we had that episode Gorizilla with his suspicions, but really? One day & then he completely drops it for the rest of the series? Gabriel isn't completely incompetent as a villain & I personally would love to see his plans work every once in a while. From a viewer POV I love to see the villains succeed once in a while because it helps with plot & character development. It doesn't have to be a huge victory, but I would have loved to see him get a small win at least once in these 3 seasons apart from Miracle Queen with the deciphered book, but really? It took 3 seasons to even get to that point. & speaking of Lila, she keeps disappearing from the classroom experience until she is needed to cause trouble. After her introduction BACK into school, you would think she would be mentioned more, appear more & would have had bigger parts in the show after they made her character such a big & dangerous deal. I want to see more of her causing chaos around Paris & seeing more of her character develop. I want to know her backstory, her hatred for Ladybug, her hatred towards Marinette because she likes Adrien & won'tt fall for her lies & her relationship with Adrien because he seems to be her soft spot (as shown in Ladybug). All we know about Lila is that she's is a compulsive liar & how she's teamed up with Gabriel, but what was their deal? Does she know for certain about his secret? She was introduced in season 1, has only appeared in an about 7 episodes & we still know next to nothing about her. Please make me hate her more or at least understand why she is the way she is. The plot itself is way underdeveloped and it's already finishing its third season. Marinette becoming the guardian felt so rushed. Yes she proved she can use multiple miraculous in the course of 2 episodes, but where was the actual development for that aside from choosing a miraculous & holder to fight with her & Chat Noir? Marinette is a great superhero , but since when did being a good superhero mean also being a great guardian? The idea was sprung onto her in Feast, but was the full responsibility of becoming a guardian ever explained in depth? Yes we had Master Fu curing Tikki, talking to Marinette about the Miraculous Book, making the powerup potion & passing the miracle box onto Marinette, but that was pretty much it as far as the guardian explanation. & we still know next to nothing about Emilie Agreste who Gabriel is so desperately trying to help. It's been 3 seasons already & we still don't know what even happened to her apart from using the peacock miraculous made her ill. How did it make her ill though? How did she & Gabriel get their miraculouses? I really loved the show & I'm just super let down with it because the main focus seems to be the "love square" & not actual plot to help with the story telling & even then the "love square" isn't a good example of what love is & how people in "love" treat each other. The little plot & character development that we get is usually quickly forgotten or not elaborated & left for us to wonder instead of giving us a straight answer about things. I loved the show & I had really high hopes for it, but I was really let down after Miracle Queen. It did not seem to be built up enough & felt like a regular episode instead of a season finale. I’m still going to continue to watch the show as I already feel way too invested in it (I also hate leaving shows uncompleted because I love seeing how the stories conclude, even poorly told ones), but I really hope it gets better in terms of development & less shipping drama. 

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #mlb #miraculous rant #ladrien #adrien agreste #adrienette #marinette dupen chang #marichat #master fu #chloe bourgeois development was done dirty #lila rossi #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #miraculous season 3 #ladybug and chat noir #chat noir #ladybug #pls dont attack me #its just my opinion

[taronfanfic]

Fast Forward

Chapter 11

You’d taken half the day off work so you could get up to the hospital and see your Dad as soon as you could. With the week ahead booked off as well it only left you with 2 days holiday for the rest of the year and you’d scheduled those in early, grabbing the days around Christmas so you could have plenty of time to spend with Taron and his family. It was something you were really looking forward to and knowing it was on the horizon would get you through the 5 day working weeks you’d have to endure. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that your Dad was ill, but you were thankful you still had the time left to take off work. Some of it would be spent relaxing on the sofa watching films, you were sure you could grab a lie-in or three and you didn’t have to spend a single minute thinking about work so it was still close enough to getting away somewhere for a proper holiday. You even thought you might get chance to do a bit of research towards a foreign holiday for you and Taron next year to make up for it.

The daydreams of sunnier weather were put on hold once you’d arrived at the hospital. That sickening smell brought back all the fear and nerves and made you want to leave immediately but you forced your feet to continue down the corridor so you could join your mum in the small room she’d been waiting in all day. Your Dad was due out of theatre roughly when your train had arrived, but he’d still not been brought back to his room from the recovery ward. Instead there was a bleak gap between the chairs where his bed should have been.

“Hey.” You greeted your Mum softly.

“I got my hopes up then when the door opened,” she sighed, “No one’s been in to tell me anything since they took him off at 8am!”

“Do you want me to go and find someone to ask what’s happening?”

“No, no. They’re all busy doing proper work and don’t need us slowing them down. I’m sure they’ll bring him back soon.” She tried to smile but you could see the fear in her eyes from thinking something must have gone wrong. “I will go and stretch my legs and get a coffee now you’re here. Do you want one?”

“Yes, thanks.”

As your Mum left the room you spotted her book on the side table, the pages well thumbed through and corners still bent over to mark her places. It was the same title that Julie had mentioned in the tea-room last weekend, so you picked it up with intrigue and read the back cover. It was a psychological thriller set between a mother, daughter and son-in-law-to-be and you rolled your eyes imagining how she must be picturing the same dynamic in the mirror of her own life. Perhaps she’d projected some of the negativity from the book onto Taron without realising it? You didn’t get a chance to read through any of the chapters before the doors were being held back by two nurses and a porter wheeled your Dad in his bed back into the centre of the room. He was quickly hooked up to a drip and a monitor, and then the room emptied out of hospital staff before you’d had chance to ask them anything. His hand felt chilly as you placed yours over the top and watched closely as he started to wake up.

“Jane?” He croaked out quietly.

“No, it’s Y/N.” You replied before picking up the glass of water on the tray at the end of his bed and moving the straw into place so he could take a sip.

“Y/N.” He smiled softly. “Even better. Thanks, love.”

“How are you doing?”

“Where’s Taron?” He frowned as he slowly looked to the empty chair on the other side of the bed.

“He’s at work, he’s staying in London this time so you’ve only got me this week.”

“Oh no. I knew Jane would upset him. I told her!”

“Dad, it’s fine, he’s alright about it. You don’t need to worry about us anyway, focus on you!”

“Oh I’m fine.” He shook his head before coughing slightly and then wincing in pain. “Well I will be.” You placed a kiss to the back of his hand before giving him another drink just as your Mum got back with two coffees in hand. She was quick to place them down and take your Dad into a long but gentle hug as she placed a kiss to his forehead.

“I was getting worried.”

“Not you as well.” He rolled his eyes. “Making me wonder what’s happened to this family with all the worrying and sympathy and time spent together in the same room!”

“I can go.” You joked as you pointed to the door and went to stand up.

“Don’t you dare!” You Mum snapped back before apologising just as quickly. “Sorry, stress.”

The conversation tiptoed across eggshells, often landing in spots of lengthy silence as you did your best not to wind each other up. Before long you needed a break so offered to go and buy some food, taking in some fresh air as you walked down the road towards the nearest takeaway shop. It was only then that you checked your phone and switched it off silent, opening up a serious of messages from Taron who seemed to have had an entirely one-sided conversation with himself since he left work.

“You’re easily amused.” You teased him as he answered your call almost immediately.

“What happened to having your phone on you at all times?”

“I will when I’m not sat in the hospital!”

“Good. So you’re back at home now?”

“Not yet, just walking up to the chippy. Visiting ends at about half 8 tonight I think.”

“Have they said how long they’re keeping him in for?”

“Not yet, I guess it depends how he is over night. Hopefully they’ll let him out at some point tomorrow. He’s making a few jokes though so he’s getting there already.”

“That’s brilliant.”

“Hold on 2 minutes while I order.” You paused your conversation and held your phone by your side as you ordered a selection of bits for your Dad to pick at, knowing you’d eat anything that was left over, and then paid. “Right, I’m back.”

“What are you having?”

“Guess? I’d give you 3 guesses, but I know you’ll only need one.”

“If you’re not having cheesy chips then you’re no longer my girlfriend.” He replied nonchalantly.

“Brutal!”

“But I’m not a single man, so I’m right, aren’t I?”  

“The world is still turning, I am still your girlfriend, and when I hang up I will be sending you a photo to make you jealous.”

“God I hate and love you so much at the same time.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” You laughed. “So what are you up to?”

“Re-heating last night’s leftovers and then I was thinking of meeting the boys in the pub, that’s if you’re okay though.”

“I’m fine, it’s all good here so you should definitely go and see them.”

“Sure? I can stay in so we can facetime later if you want.”

“No, you go. I was planning on having a bath and an early night so we’ll facetime tomorrow night.”

“Facetime me from the bath anyway?” He asked cheekily.

“No! You’ll be in the middle of the pub!” You hissed back, suddenly conscious of the people around you who were also waiting for their orders.

“Mean. But it was worth a shot. We’ll save that for when we really really miss each other.”

“Tomorrow then.” You laughed. “Ah my chips are ready so I’ve got to go, I’ll text you later.”

“Enjoy!” Taron ended the call cheerily and you couldn’t hold back the smile on your face as you made your way back to the hospital. It didn’t budge an inch as you sat eating your cheesy chips, thinking back to that rainy night where Taron first offered you one, and then his hoodie and sofa for the night. Things would be so different now if you’d not forgotten your keys.

You were snatched away from that happy place when a doctor entered the room, initially smiling down at the array of unhealthy food you’d snuck in to the hospital before he composed himself and looked deadly serious.

“Sorry to break up this delicious smelling feast, but I wanted to come and see you as soon as I could. The operation this morning went well, and we removed the tumour without too much of a struggle, so Michael will heal up as expected. The one thing we hadn’t expected, based off the initial biopsy, was the full range of cells contained within the tumour. We inspect everything closely, more for research than anything else, but it has meant that we have had to reverse our initial observations on the tumour being benign.”

“What do you mean?” Your Mum asked quickly.

“There are traces of cancer cells within the tumour that we’ve removed.”

“But they’re out, so it’s ok?” Your Dad tried to clarify.

“Yes, for the most part. Obviously we can’t be 100% certain that we’ve managed to remove all the traces, and based on the size of the tumour there’s a fair chance the cancer could have started to spread before we got to it.”

“How will we know?”

“I have put an urgent referral through to oncology for you and you’ll be taken for more scans and reassessed. It could be that, in time, you are set on a course of chemotherapy to essentially lower the risk of anything else developing but oncology will be able to explain all of that in more detail for you. I’m sorry it’s not better news, but I’m confident we’ve removed everything we needed to and that’s the best starting place with this.”

Starting place. You sighed as you continued to stare at the speckled blue and grey floor between your feet. Just as you thought the worst part was over the next, bigger, hurdle is there to be jumped and the weight has descended straight back onto your shoulders.

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#taron egerton #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton fanfic #taron x reader