#view like that. zoology is my special interest and i like when he talks about it things gaming terms

[dokuhebi]

❛ kings die, realms fall, but magic endures. ❜

THE WITCHER 3 PROMPTS // @snakereign Everything in this world is different to them. From the wood making up tables, bookshelves and furnishings, to the materials making blankets, clothing and curtains. Born from bushes, trees and animals the serpent has simply never seen before. But despite how foreign everything here is, it is they themself who remains the exotic and misplaced one. The outlander. If they had felt hunted in their old world - and how constantly tracked down like a witch they were - this new realm offered countless more enemies to contend with. Fools who wanted them for power, spare parts in wizard like potions, or zoology. While being formidable and immortal certainly aids them in staying safe, they know better than to take on a world of enemies. They had done it once before, and although they ought to consider themself lucky to have come out alive of that war, they had learnt some hard lessons. One was never too powerful to need friends. It was their luck that they had found the company of someone with similar interests and passions, someone who did not shy away from their more ferocious side, but did not treat them like some animal either. A man who could see them for what they were, a mixture of many, a multifaceted leviathan who could bring harm or fortune to those smart enough to use them wisely. And how Voldemort proved to be smart enough, perhaps even too smart for their liking. It was rare they had to stay on guard, yet be too sweet-talked and ensnared to remind themself of that. He knew how to offer them enough information to keep them around, but never so much that he outlived his use to them. He kept himself a few steps ahead, and they are both aware and complacent with this. He’s made too compelling an argument with that silver tongue of his, to ever have them drifting or losing interest. So they wait for him, even when he disappears on his own agenda. Knowing better than to ask him where he has been when he returns. Had he wanted them to know, surely they would have been granted the right to accompany him. After all, even the most vicious dogs swore loyalty to those who kept them well fed. And the young man knew precisely how to sate their appetite. The doors quiet groan is what alerts them to the fact that he has returned. As the sun starts to sink low enough to be engulfed by the horizon. Vanishing in brilliant oranges and reds, painting the room in vivid saffrons. Such colours catch upon the vipers porcelain skin, flesh white as snow now used as a canvas under the suns fleeting rays. Warm hues faintly reflected where their night kimono slips lazily down their shoulder. Ivory arms, collar and legs bared to gentle but flame like colours panting their figure. Perched on the stone window arch, gazing down from their godlike view at the forests hundreds of feet below. Not timid of the fall, but admiring the height. Admiring the newness, truly reborn in this moment, when they gaze at things they have never seen before. Their fingers had been idly combing through raven black hair, until eager eyes move instead to the sound of his return. He is greeted instantly by their light smile, one that so quickly loses its tenderness when the edges of fangs can be seen. They slip gracefully from the windowsill they had been seated at, to meet him at his side. To scan his eyes and body for anything that may signal trouble. Whether he had run in to any, they don’t know. They do know however, that if he had, he had handled it as usual, and returned to them unscathed. “I did as you asked,” they say, a tome left upon the desk. What knowledge lies within the weighted book they do not know, they can not decipher its meaning despite being fully capable of reading it. Too inexperienced in this world to understand the gibberish of spells, foreign creatures, lands and names. But he had asked for it, so they had provided. In full anticipation to have their efforts rewarded, and having exercised all the patience they had within themself simply waiting for his return, “will you show it me then? One of the forbidden curses those lesser wizards keep muttering about?” They live for these lessons, thrive under his instruction, his tutoring. Magic is a power that is not within their veins, much like the muggles of this world. Yet unlike those muggles, they are not completely without something special, the chakra they harbor enabling them to produce attacks monstrous in its own regards, something so very similar to witchcraft. They follow him to the small coffee table, finding their seat beside him on the couch, listening to each word from his mouth and watching the artifact he draws out. A wand. And they watch next as the little demonstration begins, as his simple command has the summoned snake, courtesy of Orochimaru, suddenly wrapped under mind control. It is so effortless, so tasteful, so immediate. While the conjured snake is a loyal companion to Orochimaru, and would do their bidding without question, it now has lost all ability to do just that. Imperio. Far more sophisticated than the mind control those in the vipers realm are capable of. They are in awe instantly, enamored by the demonstrated power, enamored by how he makes it look second nature. How within a moment of his attention, with a single breathed command, this venomous and lethal summon is his new play thing. Golden eyes shift to the man when he speaks, inquisitive eyes following his every movement. “Magic... I imagine such a word is interchangeable with power, is it not?” they reply, leaning against him now, giving in to their tactile nature. They watch the snake innocently obey each command, as they rest their head against Tom’s shoulder. Too comfortable perhaps, around the charming man. A man who has even lulled the infamously distrustful serpent in to deeming him their home, their place of refuge. Not because they mistake his power as anything less than it is, but because they are hellbent on surrounding themself with any and all power - if not from their own sylphlike body, then instead they would content themself being beside his. They draw their hand lightly down to run their fingertips over his wand, to feel the texture curiously, an elegant motion before their hand brushes over his arm a moment to be gathered back to their person, “... the magic of this world, can it be mine?” With their summon finally having its free will returned, the reptile makes its way over to the two humans. Ever so complacent with what had happened, seeing no difference in the requested duty of killing on command, or being puppeted a moment. A bronze body lazily slips away from the small table it had been perched on, sliding instead to creep up the coach and languidly lace itself around and over the laps of the wizard and shinobi. Their hand moves to brush over its scaled body next, “there are those born without magic in this realm, I have seen them. Have none ever tried to get it regardless? Have any ever succeeded?” A more cunning smile replaces their previous one now, as they lift their head from his shoulder ever so slightly, to instead correct a tassel of dark brown hair, “you shall mark the first king to never die, and be the founder of a realm indomitable,” they say, golden eyes meeting his umber pair, ensnared instantly by the intelligence so clearly living there, their gaze against his the contrast of the pale yellow moon meeting the midnight sky, “for as long as I am permitted at your side,  I will make it so, and you will want for nothing my dear Lord,” they place a hand to his shoulder now to get to their feet, to saunter across the room and fix them both a drink, even the alcohol a rather differing taste here for them. They lean on the table a moment to watch him, to inspect his reactions before offering him his drink and a more tamed smile.  “I do hope I have sworn myself to a generous king.”

#snakereign #毒蛇 IMMORTAL; the curse is broken (post war) #/long post

[longclawislightbringer]

Wake Up & Smell the Amortentia: Lemoncakes, or Second Time’s the Charm

Rating: T

Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Ygritte, Sansa Stark/Harrold Hardyng

Characters: Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Harrold Hardyng, Robb Stark, Arya Stark, Bran Stark, Rickon Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, mentions of Joffrey Baratheon

Summary: Jon overhears part of an interesting conversation on his way to meet up with Dany and discovers Sansa's little side project in the room of Requirement.

Wow. It's really been like ten months since I updated this. Whoops! My bad.

But in my defense I did move to another country and start my masters in the intervening time.

Anyway, thanks again to my wonderful beta-reader sansapotter! Follow her on tumblr and AO3.

Leave a comment if you want to! I love getting feedback.

Also on AO3.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three. 

Part Three: Lemoncakes, or Second Time’s the Charm

“I think it’s almost done.” Sansa glanced at her open potions textbook, letting her free hand drift over the final instructions while the other continued to stir the bubbling potion in the cauldron.

Dany leaped from her perch on the other side of the table where she had laid out all the materials for her upcoming paper on the history of dragon training for Magical Zoology. She sidled around the table to peer over Sansa's shoulder at the cauldron.

“What are you going to do,” Dany asked, “if you smell Jon’s conditioner again? Are you going to tell him?” Her silvery braids swung over her shoulder as she leaned in even closer to examine the potion.

"I don't even know how I could," Sansa sighed. "It's not like I can just go up to him and say, ‘Sorry I've been such a terrible friend these past few weeks, but I smelled your conditioner in the Amortentia at the beginning of the term, and I think I'm in love with you." She collapsed on her stool, still stirring the potion with due diligence. "Dany, I'm such a terrible person!" Sansa glared at the potion. "I know he loves Ygritte and here I am wondering how to tell him I love him."

Dany patted her on the shoulder. "You need to tell Jon—he deserves to know." She peeked at her watch before hurrying to the other side and shoving her papers into her bag. "Oh, would you look at that; four o'clock already? I gotta jet—let me know how it all works out, love," she winked before dashing to the door. Sansa focused on the roiling potion in front her as Dany's footsteps receded. She swirled it one final time as the colors began to shift into that familiar mother-of-pearl sheen. The metal handle on the door clinked as Dany pulled it open.

"Hello Jon," Dany said. "Fancy seeing you here." Sansa jerked up from her potion, her hair whipping so fast it almost caught on the legs of the cauldron holding it above the small flame. Jon stood in the doorway, hand poised as if to knock, with a curious expression on his face. Dany brushed past him and smirked before sauntering down the hallway. Sansa shot up from her stool, letting the spoon fall from her hand. It clattered on the stone floor as the potion stopped transforming, sending up the familiar swirls. Sansa scrambled, almost tripping over her robe to get to the other side and block the cauldron from Jon's view as he stepped into the Room of Requirement and the door swung closed behind him. Sansa flinched when it banged shut.

“Jon,” she squeaked. “How much did you hear?”

"Only that you have something to tell me." He took a few steps forward, stopping in front of her before crossing his arms. "You've been avoiding me. Why?”

Sansa shrank back against the table. Her skin flushed as she glanced away from his questioning gaze.

“I had to figure something out, ”she mumbled, sticking her hands in her pockets.

"And have you?" he asked. “Figured it out, I mean. Is that why it smells of lemon cakes in here?"

“I don’t know how to say this,” she sighed, stepping aside of the cauldron. Shifting her weight to one side, she rubbed her arm. The pattern on the stone floor suddenly seemed captivating.

“Is that Amortentia?” Jon rushed past her to get a closer look at the cauldron. “Are you trying to dose someone, Sansa?”

“No!” Sansa shook her head. “I mean, yes, that is Amortentia, but I wasn’t going to use it on anyone.”

“Then why are you brewing it in the Room of Requirement?”

The words tumbled out before she could stop herself.

“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” Sansa clapped a hand over her traitorous mouth. The blush spread to the tip of her ears.

Jon blinked.

“I . . . You . . . What?” He stammered.

“Professor Aemon made Amortentia for our first day of Potions this year.” Her voice wobbled. She turned away to avoid showing him the tears welling in her eyes. “I smelled your broom wax and that special conditioner I gave you. No one else wears it; I checked. That’s what I was trying to tell you in the hallway outside the locker rooms.”

“Then why are you brewing more Amortentia?”

"You were still with Ygritte; I wanted to double-check it, but I don't need to anymore." She sniffled. "I think I'm in love with you, Jon; heck, I've probably loved you for a while, but I just didn't know it. Smelling you in the Amortentia just made me realize how sweet, kind and handsome you are." She wiped away her tears. "I know you're still with Ygritte; we can go back to the way things were and forget I ever said anything if that's what you want, but I thought you should know." She rearranged her sweater before turning back around.

Jon sank onto the stool opposite the cauldron previously occupied by Dany and scratched his head.

“Jon, say something.” The tears threatened to fall again.

Jon crinkled his nose, sniffing the potion. A strange expression passed over his face.

At long last, he spoke.

“Why is your perfume so strong?”

Sansa blinked the tears away, taken aback.

“I’m not wearing my perfume today,” she frowned, taking in shimmering potion on the table. “Why does it matter—oh.” Jon flushed as red as a tomato, playing with the cuff on his white shirt.

“What about Ygritte?” Sansa broke the silence.

Jon shook his head. “We broke up yesterday.”

Sansa sat down across from him.

“I see.”

The cauldron continued to send up swirls of sparkling steam.

“What do we do now?” Jon asked as he stared deep into the potion.

"You know how I feel," she said at long last, "but if you want to just stay friends, I'll understand. Give it some time." She hopped off the bench. "I have to clean this up before Professor Aemon finds out I borrowed some of his ingredients." She screwed the lid on the rose thorn jar with a pop and doused the flame under the cauldron with a flick of her wand.

“I’ll help you.” Jon reached across the table to close the last of her jars as Sansa poured the finished potion into a vial.

“Thanks.” She corked the vial.

“What are you going to do with that?”

Sansa shrugged. "Guess I'll have to flush it. Can't get caught with contraband as a prefect." She rummaged through her bag, moving the worn textbooks to the side to make room for her cauldron and stolen supplies. She slung the bag over her shoulder.

Jon remained as inscrutable as ever, his eyes on the ground. Sansa sighed. She took a step toward the door, heart almost bursting in her chest.

"I guess I'll see you later…" Jon rubbed the back of his neck. Of course, the dolt still couldn't meet her eyes.

“When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.”

She hurried outside, resting against the shut door for a moment, chest heaving and clutching her bag to her shoulder.

With a small smile, she straightened her shiny Prefect’s badge. She glanced at the door one more time before hurrying down the hallway lighter than she had felt in weeks.

#jonsa #hogwarts au #Wake Up & Smell the Amortentia #CLUELESS JON #pining Sansa #my fic