Every bookbinding tutorial i found online: "DO NOT TRY THE COPTIC STITCH AS A BEGINNER ITS TOO ADVANCED"

Me who has only bound one book before and used a completely different method: "ehh it can't be that hard"

2 hours later

.....I was right. Its not that hard.

A Voyage to Liberation

➜ Words: 11k

➜ Genres: 90% Fluff, 5% Angst, 5% Smut, Historical!AU

➜ Summary: The year is 1790. The overcrowding of prisons causes Britain to send their convicts to Australian Penal Colonies. On the ship are political prisoners, pirates, and those who have committed petty crimes. Most importantly, there's you and also a man by the name of Kim Namjoon.

➜ Warnings: Sexual harassment, attempted sexual assault, dick-harming, misogyny, depiction of slaves/servants, blood, and violence.

The ship rocks back and forth.   Your world is tilted on an axis and a frightening bout of nausea threatens to soil your already dirtied dress. It’s a sad little thing, drawstring neckline with few frills and a high-waisted narrow skirt, and the once pristine white stained with mud and dirt. You would’ve worn something more pleasant had they not stripped you of all your belongings.    A bunch of scoundrels they are.   “Ey, take a gander of this whore.”   “Bend over, will you?”   The ship is cramped and terribly diseased. You cover your mouth with your hand, disgusted at the sights that behold you. In the little space that you occupy, you gather your knees together and turn away. Many have already succumbed to disease with the first signs of death being that their teeth fall out, that their mouths start to bleed, that their hair begins to fall. While you have not yet been affected, it is still downright awful.   You wish you could at least come above deck and take in some fresh air.   “Damned wretch is ignoring us!”   “Aye! Madam, we’re talking to you.”   One of the diseased men grabs a hold of your arm, pulling you upright onto your feet. A gasp pulls from your lips and onlookers scramble back. At once, your nose scrunch and your hand whips back to smack his cheek as hard as you can muster.   There’s a loud noise and your palm stings. It’s enough that his entire head knocks to the side, eyes big.   “Unhand me, beast.”   His jaw clenches, grip on you tightening. “You damned hedge whore.”   The other ruffian steps forward and the fear you’ll be held down overwhelms you.    But then suddenly, a stranger intercepts. His shadow towers over you, height overcoming the two misfits. He’s a strapping, young fellow with dark hair and eyes. His chin is jutted out.   “You should heed the lady’s wishes, good sirs.”   They’re taken aback by his sturdy build, intimidating. The clearing of their throats are heard and the one grabbing you releases you from his bindings. You step back, right behind the stranger you’re grateful for.    “Is this your lady?”   He turns around for a moment and your eyes meet his. The stranger has sculpted features, a cleanly shaved man with tangled hair. Both sides of his cheeks deepen into small dots when he smiles tenderly — it is a curious sight.   He looks back at the ruffians.   “She is, so I’d gladly appreciate it if you wouldn’t lay a finger on her, good sirs. She is with child.”   They grumble, looking at one another before they retreat to the scummy place they emerged from. You watch them move to the other end of the ship, onlookers also relieved nothing atrocious occurred.   You scoff, unladylike when you mutter, “They’ve gone absolutely mad.”   You sit yourself back down, gathering your knees together, paying absolutely no mind to the stranger that rescued you from those terrible circumstances. Instead, you shut your eyes in an attempt to halt the spinning of your head and lean your head against the damp ship walls.   The man has gone the next time you open your eyes.   //   The food is given few and far in between. It is worse than when you were on the streets picking at rubbish. There are bugs in the soup, bread gone too hard, and today, the biscuits are molded.   You sigh, picking the green bits off before taking a bite. But your eyes stray to an old woman who is finishing her own biscuit with hands that tremble.   Her eyes widen when you hand yours to her. She is undoubtedly shocked. “For me?”   You hum, uncurling her bandaged fingers to place your biscuit in her palm. “They ought to feed us more.”   “T-Thank you, good miss.” The elder nearly cries.   You say nothing, returning to your spot as your stomach makes unseemly noises. You are ignorant to the strange man who had his eyes set on you. And you do not pay any mind to him until he suddenly moves to sit beside you, knees brushing against yours.   You whip your head up. Instead of a ruffian or no-good-doer, it is the man who had saved you a good day or two ago.   He regards you with a smile as if you are familiar to him.   “Can I assist you, sir?” you inquire, brows furrowing.   “Wouldn’t some words of gratitude be the appropriate gesture to someone who assisted you?”   “Your assistance wasn’t necessary.” You look away. “But I suppose it is indeed the proper thing to do considering your assistance did aid me, so thank you.”   The corners of his lips pull into a smile. He gathers his knees to his chest just like you. “My name is Kim Namjoon. I suppose it wouldn’t be too much if I asked for your name, madam?”   “I am L/N Y/N, if you must know, Mr. Kim. Is there a reason for your approach? I must tell you I have no arrangements to be your lady nor carry your child, good sir.” You make your suspicions of his intentions clear, yet his smile simply widens.   “Then I am relieved as I had no arrangements in mind either. I only seek friendship.”   “Friendship?” On a ship of convicts, ruffian and misfits? These men were becoming more mad by the day.   Namjoon watches you scoff and he laughs.   “Is it so hard to fathom?”   “I believe your efforts should be spent elsewhere, perhaps on trying to get off here alive.”   “Maybe so, but I’d like to make my time on here memorable.”   “Well, I have no plans on helping you make it more memorable, Mr. Kim.”   The man stops you before you can find another spot on this cramped ship. “The folks here are….undesirable to make acquaintances with. It is difficult to discover someone without ill-intentions. And I believe that you are not such a person, therefore I believe it is in our best interest to be friendly with one another. It would prevent such a situation from happening again.” He is suggesting the early incidents of those ruffians trying to get their hands on you.   You eye him up and down. His shirt, breech, shoes and coat is worn. The man’s face is dirtied, but he has a warm demeanour and he is rather good-mannered with strong reasoning.   The people on here are frightening, that much is true. And it would help the soundness of your mind if you had someone you could trust. Furthermore, the man’s towering height and lean muscles could deter attackers. It could be fairly advantageous to accept his friendship.   You tear your eyes away from him for fear of staring too long and being impolite. You lean your head against the wall, shutting your lids. You can still feel his gaze on you.   “Mr. Kim.”   “Yes?”   “Do you happen to know how to stop this nausea I have? The ship is awfully unsteady.”   You open your eyes once more when you feel pressure just below your wrist. The man is delicately pressing against a point in your flesh. But when he notices your stare, he withdraws his hand. “My apologies. It’s just that...when you press a certain point just below the wrist, it may help with nausea. I learnt it from a medic back at home.”   There is a tantalizing pause before you extend your arm to him. “Show me.”   Namjoon smiles, and you begin to feel like your world becomes straight again.   //   “What will happen to us?”   “I hear they will send us to work at a factory?”   “A factory?”   “Sewing clothing. I heard from a sailor above. They will be docking at a place called Sydney Cove. It is the new colony, New South Wales. But I am still unsure if those rumours are true.”   She solemnly nods. “We shall know in two days time.”   The conversation you were eavesdropping in is interrupted when Namjoon finds you, taking his seat beside you once more on the floor. You turn to the dapper fellow. “What are you here for?”   “Me?” He has a broad smile, already knowing the meaning of your question. Each person on this ship was here for a reason — whether they had stolen, assaulted another, or committed a political offence. And you cannot help but become curious as to the reason why your new friend has found himself in such a dire place. “Well, I would like you to know that I was framed.”   In spite of the horrible circumstances, the man always knows how to lighten the atmosphere and make you smile. “Framed?”   “Undoubtedly framed,” he leans closer to say, “False charges that soiled my name completely.”   “What for then?” He’s piqued your curiosity even more.   “I was framed for stealing a handkerchief. It was less than five shillings at that, but enough to get me sent away.”   “And why were you framed?”   “Well, the man’s wife gave it to me.”   You laugh. “Why would she give it to you?”   Namjoon clears his throat. It makes you press him for a reply and he relents, “I may or may not have been engaged in an adulterous relationship with the madam.”   You gasp, scandalized, and you hit at his arm. “Bastard!”   He winces, but matches your laugh and smile. “He was jealous and though he had no proof of such an affair, he set me up and soiled my name.”   “You should be fortunate he did not beat you to death,” you tell through snickers.   “I am aware. And what were you sent here for?”   “Me?” Your half-lidded eyes flicker in all directions. With no one watching, you pull a plump, red fruit from the sleeve of your dress.   Namjoon’s mouth humourly draws open. “How did you get an apple?”   “Shush now.” You frown. “I took it from the sailor. He didn’t even notice.”   He scoffs, whispering, “You’re a pickpocketer. Are you not afraid of being caught?”   “If I am then so be it. I think it would be hard for things to be worse than they already are. Plus, I am almost certain that the sailor I stole from is attempting to court me.”   The man chuckles, curious as to the reasoning behind your apprehension. “Why do you not agree to him then? Being wedded to a man like him would make your life easier.”   “He simply doesn’t appeal to me,” you say and split the apple with your hand. You pass him the other half. “Here.”   “Thank you.”   In spite of being clouded in a damp sort of darkness, your side is warm. You’re glad to have established a friendship with Mr. Kim. His company, contrary to your feelings or lack thereof for the sailor, is not unpleasant.

The moment the ship docks at harbour, you are overwhelmingly relieved. You are shoved out by the sailors from below deck, but once you make it out, you are finally able to breathe in the fresh air. Even when the light of the sun stings your eyes, you look upon the new yet unruly land.   “What’re you doing standing there? Get off!”   “Get your assess off the ship!”   “Quickly!”   The weather is hot, trees unfamiliar, grass more yellow than it is green. The land is barren, soil seemingly dry. There is moaning and groaning around you, criminals pushed forward and staggering on weakened knees. Amidst the crowd, you catch the towering fellow with dark hair.   His eyes meet yours but you’re unable to get to one another. The two of you are forced into a line. The guards pacing back and forth and shoving folks who stumble out of place.   The Governor ahead is seated at a table, sorting the horde. “Name?”   “Kim Seokjin, Mr. Governor.”   He hums and holds a card with the name, age, and a short description of each convict. Yet, he still asks, “And do you have any usable skills? What was your occupation in his majesty’s kingdom?”   “I was a former blacksmith, sir.”   “Alright.” He writes and the officer beside him motions to the left. “Next! Name?”   “Good morning, sir. How do you do? My name is Kim Namjoon.”   “I am fine, thank you, sir.” His throat clears. “Do you have any usable skills?”   “I was a carpenter in his majesty’s kingdom.”   “Very well. To the left, good sir.”   “Thank you.” Namjoon is handed a yellow and black uniform.   The officer tells him to get into line. Another asks where they’ll be going and he says, “You’re assigned to help build roads and buildings. Considers yourselves fortunate. There’s more brutal work to be done on this land.”   You try to look ahead to see where Namjoon is, but you are unable.   The women are gathered together with some other men around. The free settlers sweep their indecent gazes on you, eyeing you from head to toe.   A middle-aged man in particular approaches. He has blonde hair, gruff hair around his dirty mouth and protruding eyes. A sharp gasp slips from your lips when he grabs your chin and tilts your head up for his inspection.   “You are rather easy on the eyes, aren’t you, girl?”   Your jaw clenches. He must notice the way your teeth grits for he barks out in noisy laughter and unhands you. “You’re an entertaining one.” The man’s eyes linger on the swell of your chest, outright vulgar and shameless.   “How do you do, Officer Kwon? I thought today was your unoccupied day, yet you have shown at work! What does that make the rest of us?” A man strides to him in a uniform, exchanging hearity chuckles.   “I am well, Officer Jeon. My wife is in need of a new domestic servant to help with the kitchen and the household. I was considering selecting this girl.” He gestures towards you, much like choosing a cow for purchase.   “Well, I am sure her absence will not be missed. She is perfectly at our disposal.”   “Marvelous.”   You know better than to look at him with disdain, but you cannot help it seep through. “If I may, good sirs, I am afraid I must tell that I am quite rubbish at household work,” you tell. “I neither know how to cook, sew or wash clothing. I may not be any use to you.”   Officer Kwon scoffs. “I am not in need of your opinion, servant. You will learn what is required of you.”   You are shoved forward, feet stumbling. “You should be fortunate you were handpicked by Officer Kwon, otherwise you would work in the factory.” Officer Jeon shouts angrily, “Go on now!”   You’re led away from the crowds, sights lost from Namjoon. Moving past the barren land, you wonder about the prospects of your future. Unfortunately, your thoughts are halted when you feel your ass being squeezed by the man’s rough hand. You resist the urge to beat him to death.   //   The estate you are brought to is not as formidable as the manors from home. Although, you still get lost on your way to the kitchen, even when the land is lacking and seemingly barren. It’s a two level house with plenty of rooms and several servants like you.   “My name is Rose,” the younger girl greets you. “It’s very nice to be acquainted with another g—”   “Rose!” An older woman in the kitchen shouts, running by while wiping her hands on her apron. “Watch the fire, will you?! You will burn the food!”   “I already checked it, Jane!”   “I smell it burning!” she shrieks at him.   Rose winces and looks at you with brows furrowed. She quickly rushes off. “Sorry.”   The older woman halts for a moment to regard you. “Do you know how to chop vegetables?”   You slowly shake your head. “I...I am unsure.”   She sighs and spins around, only to come back with a wooden tray that she hands to you. It is heavy weight with teacups, straining your wrists. “Bring the tea to her Lady. She is upstairs, first left door down the hall. She will be waiting.”   You hold your sigh in your nose.   The next seven years of your punishment will be spent here. It will become better the faster you become accustomed to your duties here.   You meet the Lady. Kwon Miyeon. She has an oval face, sharp features, blonde hair forming into perfect spiral curls. Her dresses are made from the prettiest cloth and silks, pouter-pigeon fronts with full skirts. But contrary to her pleasant appearance, her interior is less than pleasing.   “Of course my husband would choose someone like you. He could never stand a foul-looking wrench. What are you looking at me for?! Fetch me my biscuits, servant girl!”   Day and night, there are shrill howls at you, tasks upon tasks, duties upon duties. From helping her bathe — “Are you planning to skin me alive?! I said gentle!” — to washing clothing — “Took you long enough!” — and even getting her tea — “It’s gone cold!”   Fortunately you are not the only one receiving such treatment. The lady of the house seems to be ruthless to anyone with a handsome face which is abundant in her household. There are countless girls with swelled chests, plump asses, long hair pinned back. You can muster sympathy for the woman for her husband being such a hound and choosing such girls to bring into the home. But it is difficult to keep your compassion when she is such an evil wrench.   “Who is it?!”   “Your most obedient servant, Madam.” You speak through the door, and a moment later, you open.    Lord Kwon seated in his chair, pulls himself away from his wife at the sight of you. His eyes linger on your hips and Lady Kwon must take notice as her teeth grit.   You clear your throat. “You called for tea.”   “Then get a move on!” she barks at you like you are her dog.   You set the teacups down onto the table, pouring an appropriate amount. You fail to perceive how Lord Kwon’s eyes set on your plump bottom as you bend.   “Did you get me my sugar yet?”   “I can only head to the town center by your leave, Madam.”   “Hmph. I have allowed you to go, girl. Why have you not gotten it done?” She huffs, “Lazy. All of you.”   Your mouth twitches into a reverent smile. “It is difficult when you have assigned so many tasks to me, Madam. I can hardly find time to breathe.”   “Are you speaking back to me? I will not tolerate such rudeness,” she sputters, perhaps preparing to threaten lashings. But you stand straight, having enough of this. Your hands were cracked, bleeding, body ached. The meek are blessed by God but it has never been in you to be meek.   “I am merely speaking what is true,” you say. “Perhaps I would have more time in my day if I did not have to assist you in bathing. I find that even children these days do not need such help.”   She stands to her feet, and you’re whipped in the face by her palm. You are struck across the cheek, head knocked back, noise ringing your ears. You are baffled.   Her chest rises and falls. “I will not allow such disrespect in my home, whore. Know your place!”   “Darling.” Lord Kwon stands upright, taking his wife back. “Do not pay the servant girl any mind. Do not let her ruin such a beautiful afternoon. She is clearly ignorant of what is appropriate.”   The lady looks at him and huffs again. She regards you with absolute disdain. “Do not come back until you have sugar! I can’t drink my tea without it!”   You stagger out the room, shutting the door behind you. With no one in the hall, you gasp for air.    Once you regain the soundness of your mind, you drop your tray at a table in the corridor meant for display and march down the stairs, out the door. There is nowhere for you to run to on this barren, hot land. The wilderness would have you dead by the third hour. The cold sea would have you drowning. And people everywhere know your name and status. You’d be shaved head clean if you attempted to escape. It was prison after all.   Thus with no other way to go, you head straight to the town’s center with absolutely no plans to get her damned sugar. You barrel down the street with your steps stomping against the path, hurting your feet and wearing down your thin shoes. But you are enraged—   That is until you hear the call of your name by a familiar friend.   “Lady Y/N?”   Uncertainty rises in his voice. You turn yourself, eyes widening. It’s a tall fellow with dark hair and eyes, a smile that creases dots into both sides of his cheeks. “Mr. Kim?”   He’s dressed in a yellow and black uniform, features worn the last time you remember. He’s thinner as well. It must be from the back breaking labour that you pity. Yet behind the fatigue is still a well-mannered man.   “How do you do, Lady. Y/N? I'm very heartily glad to see you.”   “I am well, thank you, Mr. Kim. Though I am sure only you are the only person who calls me a lady around here.”   “Rightfully so. No matter your status, you are still a lady to me.”   “And now I begin to understand why you were such a charmer back in his majesty’s land, Mr. Kim. Enough to tempt a married woman.”   “Make no mistake, Lady Y/N. It was her who lured me into such an adulterous sin.”   Namjoon laughs, sound glorious in its own way. You had not ever in your life felt such a relief to see a friend. It is now that you realize just how much you have yearned for this man in the past endless days.    A smile draws upon your features. “And how do you do, Mr. Kim? What business finds you here on this warm afternoon?”    It must be an amusing sight to see two criminals speak to each other so respectfully as if you are from the nobility. But as strange as the man may be, there has been no one who has treated you better.   Simply by standing with him here, suddenly all your troubles have up and vanished.   “Well, I am as well as someone like me could be. I am part of a building task.”   “Is that so?”   “Yes. It will perhaps house books. A library of sorts.”   “It sounds like much taxing work.”   “It is much taxing work.”   You take note of how hungry he appears and wonder if he has enough to eat. You are fortunate enough to be able to sneak objects out the kitchen when there are no wandering eyes.    As you ponder, Namjoon notices the mark on your cheek, much like a handprint still embedded into your skin. “What happened here?” He indicates, concerned.   “Oh nothing really. It was my fault for being disobedient.”   He’s not eased from your words, expression troubled. “I heard you were being employed as a domestic servant by the Kwon Household. Do they strike you often?”   “No, not at all. Only when I...defy their wishes…”   “Do you have ointment?”   “I am perfectly well, Mr. Kim. There is really no need for you to fret,” you reassure. “I am sure there are more important matters for you to take care of.”   Namjoon opens his mouth, perhaps to chide you for belittling yourself in his view — at least you hope so. But you’re never quite sure what he wants to tell because he’s interrupted by a shouting Superintendent. “You there! What are you waiting around for?! Get a move on! Quickly!”   He looks at you in distress. “I...must go.”   You nod. “I will see you soon, Mr. Kim.”   “I will hold onto that promise and find strength in it, Lady Y/N.” Namjoon smiles, on his way carrying bricks. You watch his backside with a longing sigh, off to buy sugar.   //   You’ve never lived a life of much comfort. You were born and became an orphan before your mind could contain any memory. You were raised on the streets until you were taken by a group of misfits and taught to pickpocket with other children. Thus for the entirety of your life, you have stolen food and clothing to get by.   So it’s quite absurd for you when you get a peek of how those in luxury reside.   “—goodness me! It was absolutely unbelievable!” Lady Kwon chuckles behind a gloved hand. “How could she have thought cotton was silk? You jest me.”   “I would not,” Lady Bae Suzy tells, a free settler, much like the Kwon Household. “I could never fathom such a thought.”   “Well, Miss Williams has always been a bit empty in the head.”   “I pity you who has to continue to entertain her for the coming months. I wish there was a way she would understand that we do not enjoy her company.”   She hums and holds her teacup up. You scatter from the corner to refill her drink as well as Lady Bae’s. “When are you leaving again?”   “Four weeks from now. It will be twenty five days. It is coming sooner than expected, Miyeon.”   “Are you looking forward to the trip? The voyage will be rather tiresome.”   “It will be, but with my husband’s company, I am sure it will not be too difficult.” She reaches over to grab her hand with a polite smile. “I promise to bring back the best sugars and cotton from the United States of America.”   She releases a small laugh, ladylike and never too loud. “You worry about your health, Suzy. I have an abundance of things I could ever desire.”   “Then I will come back soon so you will not have to deal with that old hag by your lonesome.”   “I will look forward to your return. Are you famished? Servant, get Lady Bae the cooked lamb from the kitchen.”   “Right away, Madam.” You dip yourself down, nodding.   As you stride away, you overhear their voices. “That is your new servant girl?”   “My husband selected her,” Lady Kwon replies in disdain.   And the devil appears as they speak about him. With the door closed, the stout man in his short breeches and tight waistcoat comes from down the hall. “Sir, your humble servant. Good day.”   “Very good. I assume you have been well, girl?”   “Very well, thank you.”   You pass by, moving out of the way. But then suddenly, the sweaty man grabs onto you. He spins you and hits you against the wall, trapping you in place against his hold. His lips curl when he hears the gasp that tears from your throat.   “Where do you think you are leaving to, whore? I still have not had my fun with you yet,” Lord Kwon mutters into your ear, his spit hitting against your skin. It’s absolutely abhorrent and disgusting. He squeezes your ass with the palm of his hand, pressing his tiny groin to you. “Skirting around me is useless. It only entices me more.”   You can imagine it now, elbow jutting out into his ribs. You would smack his face until he falls, dig your heels into his awfully pathetic crotch until he is shrieking like a pig being skewered.    But right as you are about to move, the door suddenly opens and he is off of you.   “Husband?”   “Wife, good day. Is Lady Bae here? I thought I would come to say hello.”   She peers at you in suspicion. “What are you still lingering for, servant?! Did I not give you orders?!”   “My apologies, madam. I was...stopped.” Your stare is pointed at the man, and you turn away before she can inquire what you mean or the man can accuse you of lies and threaten lashings.   It is despicable. Utterly despicable.   You hope God is watching and will reign down his punishment on judgment day. The both of them enter the realm of hell, back to where they belong.    It is shameful being in this household. You ought to kill them, by God’s name he would know why.   You angrily enter the kitchen in distress. “Lady Kwon requires the rack of lamb.”   “Already?!” Rose huffs. “We are not finished! It still needs to cook till half past three.”   “Then you can tell her ladyship of the delay.”   She groans and whips her cleaning cloth onto the bench. “Lord knows how spiteful she is. She might strike me across the face for all I know.”   “What are you moaning about now?” Jane, head of the house duties, approaches from the other door.   “Why must we permit Lady Kwon’s malice? We are not at fault for her son’s passing.”   “Her son passed?” you pipe up, curious.   “He succumbed to disease in the previous year. Fever. Vomiting. These horrible spots all over his body.” The young servant childishly shivers. “And ever since, Lady Kwon has been more insufferable. She threw the servant before you out the door because she forgot to wash her dress.”   “Enough with the gossip,” Jane chides harshly. “You must permit her anger because you are a servant of this household. Because you are a criminal. If you work hard enough, you will receive a ticket of pardon.”   “Three years from now.” Rose sighs longingly and looks at you. “Four for you since you just arrived.”   You don’t have to work a full seven if you can tolerate the foolish antics of this house. And with that thought in mind, you release your fury and start to chop the carrots, quicker, less clumsily.   //   Notwithstanding your newfound efforts, it is still difficult for you to be as obedient as they wish.    You begin to learn what is expected of you, how to complete your duties and tasks, but it is not enough if they do not see a sort of suffering from you. Yet you remain uninjured from their demands, insults, their treatment that would be suitable towards a cow than a maid.   “Did you get the fish?”   “Fresh for sale.” Rose brings it in and Jane immediately gets to work, tending to the dinner that will be served in five hours time. “I picked up apples too and some herbs.”   “Marvelous.”   She sets them down. “On my way back, I saw one of the men being flogged. Apparently he was being disrespectful to the Superintendent and now they’re lashing him fifty times. It was horrid really.”   Your blood runs cold.   “Maybe he shouldn’t have been disrespectful,” Jane mutters as she swirls the broth in the pot over the fire.   “Do you know his name? The man who is being flogged,” you ask in a hurry, grabbing Rose by her shoulders. The girl is taken back.   “I don’t know.”   “What was he wearing?”   “Yellow and black— Hey! Where are you going?! You can’t just leave! You need permission!” the young servant girl screams out to you. But by that time, you’ve darted out the door, across the estate and out of view. The two women are utterly stunned. Jane’s eyes are rounded and then she shakes her head, muttering how ridiculous you are.   “Did I say something wrong?” Rose asks Jane who remains silent, ignoring what occurred in favour of chopping the herbs. “Don’t all the prisoners wear yellow and black?”   You run across the land, chest heaving, sweat dripping down your face underneath the stifling heat. You move past people, shoes digging into dirt, and when you see the crowd in the town’s center, you can hear wails and cries. What precedes another cry is the crack of a whip.   The onlookers grimace while some find ill enjoyment in it.   “Excuse me! Pardon me!”   You split the horde, bringing yourself past them until you make it to the front of the crowd.   The man tied to a pole, whip meeting his back that is splitting at the seams. Blood pours down his skin. It is awful, but a sense of relief overwhelms you when you discover it is not Namjoon.   You walk away, not wanting to watch the man being beat. Slowly, you return to where you came from, feeling foolish for being impetuous. But before you can carry yourself to the estate, you are stopped on your way.   “Lady Y/N?”   The man you were entirely troubled for appears, although his smile falls as he regards you and how your hair sticks to your skin in sweat. “Are you alright?”    “I am...fine.”    “Then why do you look so uneasy? Did you run here?”   “I thought—I thought that was you being whipped.” Your hand is placed over your chest, trying to breathe once more. Your voice trembles against your will. “I had to come to see.”   Namjoon reaches out.   Hesitantly.    His arm extends. The man coddles your face with a single hand, holding you still. His skin is rough from the tiring labour, but he is gentle, thumb running over your cheek. Unlike the way Lord Kwon makes you disgusted when he lays a hand on you, Namjoon’s touch calms you considerably.   You search each other’s eyes, even if it is just for one mere moment. The two of you relish in one another’s company.   “I am glad you were not harmed,” you murmur.   “And I am honoured that I still have part of your mind, Lady Y/N. That you still choose to concern yourself with someone of my lowly status.”   “I...should go,” you say and he releases you with a nod. “I will come to see you soon when I can make the time, Mr. Kim.”   “I will wait patiently.” He smiles.   You brush against the man, body pressed to his for a moment.   Namjoon watches you disappear over the horizon. With you gone, he comes to his senses and finds his pocket heavier than before. He looks down and smiles when he discerns you have secretly passed him bread.   “I am utterly astounded that you still find the time of day to romance others.” Seokjin, his friend, lays down the brick when Namjoon returns to his post. He is as terrified as he is impressed. “Are you courting the lady?”   “Well, if she was to become my wife, it would not be such an unpleasant affair.” Namjoon smiles widely, discovering more strength to lay bricks on the road quicker.

When the sun rises, Namjoon is called like the others are. They are all howled at by the officers and the Superintendent, forced to rise from the barracks for another ten hours of work without a moment’s rest. He puts his mind to brick-making alongside a few others in the heat of the sun, sweat dousing his clothing, stomach turning in on itself from starvation. The eyes of the Superintendent Min are always behind him.   “Quickly now, men! Do not dawdle! You there! Hurry your hands!”   There is barely any food — perhaps enough to continue moving his body, but not enough to stop the onset of sickness he is beginning to feel as his breaths heave slower.   “You! Where do you think you are leaving to?!”   “Good sir, please, I must relieve myself,” another prisoner pleads.   “Not until you complete more work! Don’t try to fool me! I know you have done little work since morning!”   “Mr. Superintendent, I beg of you. I must relieve myself soon or I fear I will soil my trousers.”   “You dare to talk back to me?!” The prisoner is dragged away, as he cries, to be flogged for disrespect.   Seokjin shakes his head, murmuring underneath his breath, “Park should have held it in or relieved himself in secret.”   Namjoon does not speak for fear of being overheard. He hopes Park Jimin makes through it considering he is a kind fellow and a good friend.   Eventually the day ends with Namjoon’s body sore, his bones and muscles aching. Superintendent Min approaches him. “I have not failed to notice your hard efforts, boy.”   “I merely do what I am asked, Mr. Superintendent.”   “Well you are doing a wondrous job,” Superintendent Yoongi slaps his back with a smile. “Here, some tobacco for a job well done.”   Namjoon receives the tobacco with words of gratitude. But as the Superintendent leaves, it stays within his hand and he wonders what he should do with it. While Namjoon appreciates the gesture, some simple bread or biscuits would have been sufficient.   “What did he want from you?” Seokjin comes with him, walking towards the barracks under the close eye of other officers. Namjoon shows him. “Tobacco?! Lord almighty.”   “Do you want it?”   Seokjin’s eyes flutter to him. “You would give me your reward?”   “I am not very fond of it.”   “Then you do not know how to enjoy the simplicities of life. By all means I will not let it go to waste.” Seokjin receives it with a hearty chuckle. Namjoon enjoys his company. Much like himself, the man is cheerful no matter the circumstance. “Thank you.”   “There is no need to be grateful,” he reassures. “I would have preferred an apple, perhaps. Even some bread and biscuits.”   “There is not much food here for such luxuries, friend. But I hear there will be a shipment vessel from his majesty’s kingdom in a few weeks time. We can only hope there will be more food then.”   “A….shipment vessel?” His voice trails as his thoughts begin to wander.   //   The night arrives with the moon high above the horizon. The officers have fallen asleep at their stations and the quietness throughout the barracks has Namjoon slipping from his thin cover. His feet find his shoes, but once the place beside him turns, he halts his movement at once.    But then Seokjin opens his eyes.   “Fear not,” he whispers with a sleepy voice. “I will keep watch for you.”   “Thank you.”   Namjoon disappears in the middle of the night. Arguably it is the most important part of his day. The most fond part. It is certainly the part he looks forward to the most and what gets him through the difficult labour.   The man rounds the building of the barracks outside to the shadow waiting for him. The high waisted, narrow skirt of their shabby dress billowing in the slightest of breezes. The hair let loose after being pinned up all day long. Namjoon regards you with the biggest and truest of smiles.    “You are early.”   “As are you.”   “I do not mind waiting a little while. The quiet is good for the soundness of my mind. I simply worry that you will find yourself in trouble one of these days for meeting me here.”   “And I worry that you will find yourself in trouble for leaving the estate.”   You are ignorant to how happy he is to find you. It is worth the risk and trouble he would find himself in.   You meet his eye. Through the dim moonlight, you can only see part of his fatigued features. But it is more than enough to make you sorrowful. “Here, quickly, eat.” You uncurl his fingers, placing bread into his palm. He does not hesitate to devour the stale food. And you hastily reach into your pockets for the other things you stole under their noses through the entire day. “I also have a biscuits and a crumpet, two slices of apple, a slice of pear.”   “Do you not worry you will be caught and punished?”   You scoff at the man. “I have been pickpocketing all my life, Mr. Kim. And I have not once been caught.”   “But you’re here,” he points out.   “I’ve been caught only once,” you correct yourself and smile when he laughs. “Do not fret yourself with me. The lord and lady of the house are much too foolish and would not notice if their brooches and gowns were on backwards.”   It is not an unfamiliar arrangement. For the past week or so, the both of you have been sneaking off to see one another in the dead of the night with no other soul awake. You sit together on the ground and speak about your day and grievances as he feeds himself. It’s a friendship that helps the soundness of your mind. You are able to laugh at the remarks he makes without worry. It is good to know you are not driving yourself mad with the lunacy of the household and your plaguing concern lessens to know he is eating.   “—rubbish at sewing. It is not my fault I cannot see where the pin is or the thread. She ought to go to a seamstress as would anybody of her status would.”   “Y/N.” Namjoon calls you by your name without a title and you are taken aback by the intimacy his voice gives. He finishes the last slice of sweet apple. “We should escape.”   There is held silence in the air.   “You are out of your mind,” you say, stiffening. “Do not speak of such a thing again. I do not wish to see you sent away.”   “I am not out of my mind, Lady Y/N, and I wish you would not suggest such thing. Is it too absurd to think of escaping this?”   “There is no food out there. We would be caught by the natives, get eaten by dingos, snakes, or ravenous beasts. Who knows what is lurking out there. It is hot during the day and much too cold during the night. We would die without food or water. Mr. Kim.” You turn to him in urgency, and seek that this nonsensical idea be expelled from his mind. It is much too dangerous.   “There is a ship,” he tells. “A vessel coming from his majesty’s land in a few weeks time. It is bringing food. We can board it in secret.”   “And then what shall we do?” you inquire. “Escape under the law forevermore? Or perhaps be caught and sent back here for worse punishment?”   “We would never have to hide in order to see each other.” The two of you would not have to sneak around, to creep in the shadows at night to be together for only a few moments.    The suggestion is much too tempting.   You look away from him, too unsure. It is clear he has thought of it, that his intentions are not made recklessly. But you do not want to endanger his livelihood.   “If we behave well enough, we can get a ticket of pardon after four years.”   “Is stealing food for me behaving well?” he asks without expecting an answer. “Sooner or later, we will die. We cannot survive here, Lady Y/N.”   “If we are caught….I would only be placed alone in a cell, perhaps with my head shaved. But for you. I do not wish for you to be caught and sent to Norfolk Island. I hear it is...awful.” Your voice breaks and you shake your head. You gather your knees together and lean your head against the wall, much like you used to on the ship that brought you here. “The men that go there never return. We will never see one another again, Mr. Kim. Not even like this.”   “Hear me, Lady Y/N.” Your eyes meet each other’s, and he holds your gaze with great passion and thought. “My greatest wish is that you would not be harmed. That you would not suffer under the whims of Lady Kwon. That Lord Kwon would not lay his hand on you.”   Such things are inevitable. You have come to accept them long ago. But Namjoon makes it so that you don’t want to accept it.   “I fear this inability to protect you would drive me to true madness,” he says. “I fear I may not last.”   Namjoon persists with his speech that sways you excessively, “If you do not wish to come with me, then I will never hold it against you. I would not be so rude as to do such a thing. We shall never speak of this matter again if you desire so. But do not be fearful for me. I am willing to face danger — but only if you are willing to come. To be by my side.”   You are able to infer the meaning of his words. He is a gentleman and is asking you to be with him.   You have never had such a proposal before and from someone who you long to be with, who you long to see constantly. You are moved by his sincerity and by his offer.   “You speak well, Mr. Kim.” Your hand moves over his and he smiles. “I will come with you.”   Namjoon turns his hand to clasps yours. Your fingers lace into one another’s. It is a promise that invigorates you.   //   The preparations are beginning.   One. Two. Three.   At eight thirty, the lady of the household requires her bath. But at nine, she retires to her bedroom for the night. Twenty before ten, Jane finishes eating with you and Rose, and her duties in the kitchen are complete for the night. She retreats to her own quarters while Rose tends to wander around more, perhaps sneaking out treats from the pantry or lingering in the bath longer than she should. Whatever the case, you are used to keeping your ear against the surface of the door and counting her retreating steps down the hall until her door shuts.    That only leaves Lord Kwon. His movements are undoubtedly incalculable. Often he returns to his chambers at eleven. Other times, he returns at twelve, drunken and noisy with women’s perfume stained to his clothing as his steps thump against the stairs. Tonight, you are not sure where he is.   It is midnight when you peek from your curtains, candle long blown out. You scope the surroundings with your eyes. The land is dark, blanked in blackness save for the dim moonlight that allows shadows to cast. Other than the silence, the sound of cicadas chirp in the night.   When you feel the time is right, you creep from your quarters, footsteps light against the flooring. But before you can turn to the kitchen and escape from the back door, there’s thumping feet behind you, becoming louder and louder.   A gasp falls from your lips and you whirl yourself around. Nearly bumping into whoever it is.   “What are you doing here?”   “I could ask you the same!”   They are sharp, hushed whispers, and you halt your movements. The both of you peek up the stairs, but luckily neither Lady Kwon nor Jane comes down.   From the moonlight coming through the window, you see the way Rose pouts.   “I was just heading to the family basin. I am on the rag.”   “Is that so? Because I see jam on your mouth.” You lift your hand, wiping the side of the young girl’s lip. It is the strawberry jam made from the afternoon.   Her doe eyes tremble. “Do not tell Lady Kwon or Jane, please, I beg of you.”   “I will not do such a thing,” you reassure her. “I do not find pleasure in people’s misery. Just go to bed. Stop sneaking treats before you get into trouble.”   The girl nods obediently and retreats down the hall. She turns and never once questions where you are headed at this time of night. “Good bye, Y/N.”   “Good bye, Rose.”   Luckily, you are able to ward her off without arousing suspicion.    Unfortunately, you are unable to make it to the back entrance with the sack of food you stashed underneath the table. You are stopped when you enter through the kitchen doorway, grabbed by your waist. There is stiff heat against your back, something pressed to your ass. You are trapped on spot, a gasp catching your throat.   “Where are you headed off to, little girl?”   There is a mutter against your ear, hot breath that makes you want to bathe. You quickly turn around before his hand can drag any lower on your body. “My lord…”   “Such a shame you dismissed the other servant girl.” Lord Kwon holds your chin, tilting your head up for his viewing. “She is more frightened of me than you are, but the three of us could indulge together. I guess you will suffice for tonight.”   You step back quickly, able to mask your disgust in the darkness. “I am but your most obedient and humble servant, sir. I am undeserving of your attention and would never satisfy any desire you may have beyond housework. I apologize, my lord.”   “On the contrary, I believe you would be able to satisfy me quite well.”   It does not work. Playing coy only excites the beast. Being modest and bashful rouses him further, so you hastily change your scheme.    You laugh quietly, and the lewd man is taken aback when you push yourself forward against the man’s body. His back hits against the wall and you shamelessly palm his groin, squeeze his tiny prize.   “Shall we indulge then?”   Lord Kwon’s lips curl. “You’re more of a whore than I thought. Bend over.”   You tilt your head, bringing forth a pretty smile he can see before you remove yourself. “My lord, the lady of the house has been asking about you for the entire day.”   “Why should that concern me?”   “If you do not return to your chambers soon to see her, I fear she will go looking for you and our time together will be cut short. I want to...take my time. I am a delicate woman after all and I will not be able to stay if Lady Kwon becomes suspicious of us.”   He chuckles. “So you do have actual thoughts in that pretty head of yours, servant.”   “I must think of the long period of time, my lord. Not just enjoyment for the short term.”   “Then when can I see you again?”   “Some night soon,” you tell. “Fruit is sweeter the longer you wait for it to ripen.”   “Ah, but I am afraid I lack patience. Nevertheless, tonight I will wait.” He leans himself against you and your breath halts when he suddenly yanks your dress up and palms your ass. He gives a tight squeeze. “I cannot wait to make you mine.”   //   “Disgusting! It was absolutely revolting!” You are retching out loud. It’s unladylike, but you could not care less in front of him. He does not pay mind or have ill thoughts. “He is downright awful, I wanted to kill him.”   The man sitting beside you on the ground laughs. “If you kill him, we will be unable to escape.”   “I am well aware. But there are times the thought is irresistible.”   “He did not hurt you?”   “He would be dead if he did. Do not fret. I can take care of myself.”   Yet in spite of your reassurance, Namjoon still appears troubled.   He suddenly drops his bread to the ground and reaches out. He takes hold of your waist and moves you onto his lap as you draw a surprised breath. Namjoon’s gaze on you is fond.   You look away from it onto the discarded food. “What a waste.”   “I hunger for something else.” His eyes are half-lidded and your hands grasp his shoulders. It is comfortable on his body, a kind of warmth that spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes that you didn’t know was possible to have. “Where did he touch you?”   “Here.” You bring his hand to your chin then trail downwards to your waist, letting his fingers brush a path on the rest of your body on the way there. “And here.”   “Anywhere else?” he breathes, forehead pressed on yours.   You are ridding of that old man’s touch in exchange for Namjoon’s course but gentle hands. “Here.”   You tug your dress up, curling his grasp to your behind. He squeezes tenderly underneath the cloth of your nightgown and overcoat. It is a ticklish feeling that excites you.   The tip of his tongue comes to lick the seam of his lips. “M-May I-I k...kiss you?”   You nod forthrightly. “You may.”   The man presses his mouth with caution to yours. A simple graze. There is hesitancy in his gesture, as if scared he will frighten you away. But his lips are soft, delicious to the taste.   Namjoon pulls away, gazing with endearment into your eyes. After a moment, he leans in to kiss you once more as if entranced. It lasts longer this time and you are able to move your mouth against his.   You do not need long-winded poetry or noisy declarations to know that he adores you very much so. His actions are attentive enough to show his affections. You are aware of how he dotes on you. Namjoon thinks of you as you think of him.   Thus, it is not vulgar to you when his tongue protrudes into your wet mouth. When his kisses deepen and would make strangers watching blush. Namjoon takes your breath like he’s already taken your heart and mind.    But when he pushes you closer to his hardening groin, and squeezes your ass in a way that makes you whimper, you pull yourself away from him with the decency you have left.   “I will not be bedded out here on the dirty ground,” you say, catching your breath. You try to lessen the heat on your face. If anyone caught you sitting on the lap of Kim Namjoon, allowing him to have his way with you in the middle of the night alone, even if you are prisoners, it is still scandalous. “And—And I refuse to have a child out of wedlock. I will not risk such thing.”   “Nor will I,” he easily agrees and smiles. “I will not rush. I am a very patient man.”   You ponder if Mr. Kim is aware of his own charms.    In spite of your conviction, he makes it hard to resist.    “Someday,” he tells. “I will wed to you. When we can. Then our children will have proper families. I will work hard to provide. It is my promise.”   “Then I will hold onto that promise.” You smile and kiss him one last time.

You are humming to yourself as you work. It never occurred to you how bright the days were, how beautiful it was when flowers bloomed. While it was hot and the land was barren, there are still plants and life around you.   In the morrow, you will be free with the love of your life, and you cannot wait. The anticipation is overwhelming.   And so, you are pouring the tea with a gladden smile, unaware of Lady Kwon glaring. She is vexed over your good mood, but does not say anything to you in the company of a friend.   “How fast time flies. I cannot believe I am headed to harbour in the morrow.”   “Will you be gone at first blush?” Lady Kwon sips her tea.   “A few hours after, I believe,” Lady Bae replies. “My husband has never been fond of dawn.”   “Keep yourself well, friend. A twenty five day voyage on the sea is rather tedious. I wish you well.”   “Thank you. I will be back sooner than you will know and I will come with treasures again. I hear the weather there will be more pleasant than it is here. Certainly, less hot.”   “Where are you headed to?”   “I believe it’s a place called North Carolina. We may even head to the colony of Louisiana. My husband has friends there. It seems that tobacco and cotton are well known there.”   “But are you sure the land is safe? It has been seven years after the war, but it is always good to be cautious.”   “It should be fine. I heard that ever since the war, there has been more opportunities in the United States of America. Many people have come there to settle. It might even be a place to come to in the future.”   “Hmm….” Lady Kwon’s eyes stray and she sees you. A frown forms on her features. “Servant, what are you doing standing there? Fill my cup!”   Your thoughts travel. “My apologies, madam.”   //   One. Two. Three.   You count the steps that move up the stairs and listen to the creeks of the flooring.   At eight thirty, the lady of the household had her bath. At nine, she retired to her bedroom for the night. Jane, you, and Rose finished your dinner twenty before ten and the kitchen is spic and span. The older domestic servant even retired to her room earlier than expected and Rose yawned before telling you of how she was to sleep early tonight.   You wish to bid a final farewell to both Jane and Rose, but you cannot. Not without arousing their suspicion which would foil your plans.   And things were as perfect as they could be. Even Lord Kwon arrived home early in the evening, ate with the lady and retreated to his chambers an hour ago.   Tonight, you were escaping with Namjoon. Tomorrow, you would have found freedom with him.   “You are still awake. Lovely.”   A sudden voice interrupts your thoughts and you turn away from the curtains of your room. Quickly, you light your candle again and the dim glow casts its light onto Lord Kwon’s face.   He shuts the door behind him.   “L-Lord Kwon. I—I thought you were asleep.”   “And leave you waiting for me? I would not be so cruel as to leave a maiden on her lonesome.”   “I am not lonely, please, sir. Will Lady Kwon not wonder where you are?”   “She is but fast asleep.” He approaches in three strides, driving you into a corner. “Tonight, we can finally indulge in one another.”   “I...really am not prepared, sir. Perhaps another night.”   “No!” He shouts, enough to startle you cold. The man points a finger at your face. “I will not wait any longer, whore.”   You consider screaming to gather the attention of the household. Rose would most certainly come running with Jane. But that would foil the plans of your escape. You do not know when another opportunity would arise, when another vessel or ship would reach the harbour and leave again.   “I—I am on the rag,” you say. “I am bleeding.”   “Then you still have a mouth to satisfy me with.”   He is as stubborn as a mule, foolish like one too. So with your teeth gritted and having no choice, you step aside. “Then take a seat, sir. I will try my hardest to please you.”   Lord Kwon smiles, content with your willingness. He pulls his breeches down to his ankles, and sits on your bed. You stop yourself from gagging aloud when you come face to face with the smallest, ugliest meat sausage. “Well, do not just stare, peasant. Get a move on.”   You comply with his wishes, dropping to your knees. You look at him for a moment before you grab hold of his meat stick with your hand and you pump once. The poor man almost finishes right then and there. He releases a throaty moan and his fist takes your hair and tugs harshly.   “Do you like this, sir?”   “Shut your trap, whore, before I stuff it for you.”   You doubt he could do it with his skinny little thing.   You give a few more pumps until he has lost his mind in pleasure. But before he can insist you put your mouth on it and at the moment he least expects, with his eyes shut tight, your left hand raises. You grab for the candlestick beside your bed. You swing as hard as you can.   The metal collides with the strike of his skull.   He yelps in shock, hand raising to where you have hit him, where crimson blood stains his fingertips.   “Why you little—”   You beat him with the candlestick once more. This time, he falls to the ground, out of consciousness. His body sags off your bed, a mere thump on your flooring.    For good measure, you beat him once more with the candlestick, dropping on his head. You kick him in his stomach for all the things he has ever done to you. And you dig the heel of your shoe and twist into his tiny groin to make sure he could never raise it again.   You ensure he is still breathing, so he may wake up to his manhood gone.   You step over him, going underneath your bedding. You grab for the sack of the lady and lord’s clothing you stole in the afternoon, filled with food, and gold and jewelry that you swiped to exchange for shillings.    Quickly, you change into your dress. You abandon your servant clothing for a pouter-pigeon front dress, a white high-waisted narrow skirt, with a colored striped jacket.    You are beginning to look like a free settler.   //   The night is still. You creep to the back of the barracks, the designated spot you have met for the past weeks, waiting patiently. Finally, you hear steps behind you, and you twirl around.   But your smile falls. It is not the man you were expecting — the man you are to be wedded to — that you are running off with.   “Who are you?” There is a deep voice approaching closer. It is the Superintendent and he can see you in the moonlight. Your feet are rooted with his stare, unable to move. “Madam, what are you doing at this time of night?”   “I, uh, I was walking.”   “At this time of night?”   His eyes sweep your body and your fancy attire, suspicion arousing. But you clear your throat, lifting your chin in an attempt to act pompous. “I do not believe I need to be questioned by you. Now if you will excuse me.”   Superintendent Min grabs your arm before you can stride away. His eyes are narrowed into a glare. “Excuse my rudeness, madam. But I believe I do believe I have not seen you before. Did you come inland? What is your name?”   “Unhand me instantly!”   “Answer my question!”   Fear courses through you. Unlike Lord Kwon who you have come to understand and know his desires, you know nothing about this stranger whose hold on you is tight enough to injure. “Or perhaps you are someone who should not be here,” he perceives and asks, “What household do you belong to?”   “I—”   You are rudely interrupted or rather thankfully saved by a sharp noise. A clang.    The man questioning you falls forward onto the ground and you step back with a wince.   Namjoon stands looming over him. He drops the brick in his hands and takes your hand immediately.   “Did he harm you?”   “N—No. He just frightened me. So did you.”   “I apologize. There were people asking me questions and I had to say farewell to my good friend.”   You nod and bring your sack forward. “Hurry and change. We must leave soon.”   Namjoon rids his prisoner uniform in exchange for an expensive coat, waistcoat and breeches. The clothes you now wear are objects that you have both longed to adorn that only riches could buy. But finally it is on you. And hand-in-hand, you grasp tightly onto one another to lurk in the darkness.   “The vessel should be on the harbour. I saw it unloading goods today into the market.”   “Wait, Namjoon.” You hold him back behind a stable. “I wanted to tell you. There is a ship going to the United States, I—I heard it from one of the ladies who often drank tea with Lady Kwon.”   You search his eyes in the darkness. “There is no place for us in the Kingdom of Great Britain. They sent us away. His majesty’s kingdom abandoned us. But this new land, the United States, it sounds promising. I hear there are opportunities there. We—we could have a new life.”   You hold him close. “Will you come with me?”   His features draw into a soft smile. “You had not needed to ask twice. I will go wherever you go.”   With the promise made, the pair of you move onwards onto a smaller ship but one just as hopeful.   The sailors are long asleep, the night quiet as the water spills onto the harbour and land, receding and rising once again with the swell of the waves. There are boxes on the shore, filled with food and goods. Namjoon finds a large crate filled with hay and meant to house fragile antiques, and he grabs you. The both of you sneak into it and move the cover over you.   You lay there in discomfort, but with your future husband’s body heat warming your skin.   At the blush of dawn, you hear voices and hitch your breaths. The crate you occupy lifts with complaints of it being heavy and you hear the lady’s shrill voice telling them to get a move on, distracting them from taking a look at what is inside.   Before the sirens of escaped convicts can ring and news can spread across the town to halt all movements, you are brought to the lower deck. The anchors are pulled. There are yells of sailors. The boat is pushed out to sea.   The light pierces through the cracks of the crate, and you are able to see Namjoon’s face and his brightened smile.   “I hope you are ready, Mr. Kim.”   You met each other on a ship and you are now leaving together on another. This time, the both of you sailing to freedom.    And for the free settlers left in the new colony, the whereabouts of the two escaped convicts would forever remain a mystery, records incompleted for centuries, never to be found again.    What is only left are rumours of a married couple in the new land who suddenly appeared one afternoon but lived the rest of their lives happily and enamoured with one another.

Tangled up in messy sheets after a night of little sleep, Guzma lays his head back on her lap. He reaches up his hand, fingertips beginning to poke and prod idly at the countless of freckles dotting her features as if he were counting stars. "Anybody ever tell you how cute these fuckin' things are? 'Cause I wanna be the first: they fuckin' cute."

They really could’ve slept in a little longer. Guzma, as always driven by some fit of restlessness, is the first to stir and light himself a morning smoke. Max can’t feel the shifting of the bed, doesn’t hear the gentle clicking of his lighter or the strained creaking of this rusty old bedframe when Guzma maneuvers his huge body into an upright position. What ends up waking her runs a little deeper, something she can only describe as an intuition. Her body reacts to Guzma like a flower to dusk’s first sunlight. Announcing herself with a long and hearty yawn, Max rolls to her front for a stretch. First her legs, then her arms, then all at once, accompanied by a satisfied moan when life returns into her limbs. Sometimes one’s left to wonder if Rosie’s cat-like habits have rubbed off on her. 

She pushes her torso backwards and sits on her knees, binds her messy hair together and gets comfortable against a propped up cushion. It’s become somewhat of a habit to let him finish his first smoke before any conversation is made, but she chirps a “morning” at him anyway. Lack of sleep is making her eyes water and she doesn’t want to think about the state she must look, but - well, all the times Guzma has let her stay the night kind of blurred into something that feels like ‘since forever’. Point is he’s seen this girl look far worse before and still thinks she’s the sexiest little thing. Main reason Max looks like a hot mess is him anyway and Guzma seems to take great pride in this fact. 

He stubs out the cigarette and falls backwards without warning whatsoever. Before Max can say a thing, he’s got his head comfortably settled in her lap - and not without a tranquil tune humming from his phone. Max’s first instinct is to reach into the wild, white mane. Guzma’s hair always feels so soft. First time she touched it, Max remembers how surprised she was at the lack of product he’s using to keep it maintained. Long, manicured nails scrape along his hairline with gentle pressure, trace his sideburns and ears, then chin, then fall forwards to rest on his chest. “Hey,” she murmurs into their comfortable silence.

She could easily nod off like this. Guzma, on the other hand, is wide awake. Her eyes flutter open and the unnatural hue remains locked with his own, silver gaze when Guzma’s rough fingertips begin to caress and prod at her skin. They take journey along Maxy’s collarbone and slender neck, the soft mounds of her breasts, then her cheeks. Takes a moment to realize what he’s doing, but when it hits, Max is sure he can feel the heat seeping from her skin. Arceus, she’s never let anybody do this before - when people tried, and they did, she has had cut ‘em off before the intimacy could be taken too far. With Guzma, Max doesn’t mind. She welcomes it, leans into his touch like her body’s taken control over mind. Her heart skips a beat before Guzma sends it into complete overdrive. 

               "Anybody ever tell you how cute these fuckin’ things are? ‘Cause I wanna be the first: they fuckin’ cute.” 

Fuck. Oh, please don’t fucking lose your cool now, Max. But she is totally, absolutely losing her cool when her face turns bright red and she lets loose the dumbest, silliest, love-struck giggle Guzma’s possibly ever heard. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. This ain’t like Max in the slightest, and she absolutely hates how easily this asshole can disarm her. Hates it, but loves it all the more. 

“What, you trying to pick me up when I’m already in your bed, Guz?” Max falls back to their usual banter because it’s the only way she can try not to look like a complete dumbass. It ain’t working because Guzma’s grinning and peeking right through her shit. Max pokes out her tongue in a ‘It’s too early for this shit’-gesture, but he can see how much she’s soaking up his softer side. “Well,” Max buries her entire face in his white crown, “You are not the first who ever said it, but you’re the first I want to hear it from.”

Max moves and lets Guzma’s head hit the cushion - his confused “oof” makes her laugh before he’s straddled by this 100-pound lightweight. She relishes in the way his eyes take in her naked body, not minding this turn of events in the slightest. Soon enough, Guzma will find himself pinned down by the weight of two hands Max lays against his chest. “I might let you cherish them a little longer. They’re everywhere,” with a wink, she crawls up his chest until her thighs frame his head like a painting. Mmm yes, this is a piece of art she could look at a little while longer. 

                         “Even between my thighs.” 

ask: Maybe some younger Leo? Him being naive and not understanding what's going to happen until it's too late.

(I couldn’t do with the word ‘younger,’ but I figured he’s the type to stay fairly naive and too trusting, even with his brothers, up until it’s too, too late to save himself. Also this is forming up what is becoming a real AU in my head. I may need to separate these prompts out and put them together with their own story.)

incense, prequel to natural sub

Early enough that his brothers were finishing their morning routines, Leonardo opened the dojo, kneeling at the altar to light sandalwood incense. A holdover from when Splinter was still young enough to lead practice—he sighed. Splinter did not join them for practice any more. And Leonardo didn't really care that the incense burner was a the statue of Buddha, but the brass dish at his base held incense well, and practice didn't feel right without that scent in the air.

Then he went to the pile of athletic tape in the corner. He'd forgotten how many stores they'd cleaned out for the rolls upon rolls of black tape, but they'd gone from hitting the local convenience shops to stealing boxes from warehouses. Sitting down by the pile, he stretched his long legs for a moment, then relaxed with a tired sigh.

Sometimes...he really hated waking up this early just to practice. To bother his siblings to rise and work out even when Saki was dead and the clan war was over. At least Donatello had coffee to look forward to. Raphael was still dragging himself out of his hammock, and Michelangelo—

Michelangelo plopped down in front of him with a grin too cheery for the morning. Leonardo blinked, pausing with the tape at his wrist.

"You're in here early," he said, but he glanced at the clock. "Or did I lose track of time?"

"Hey, I don't always play hooky in the kitchen." Michelangelo plucked the tape out of his hand, stretching a piece and holding it out. "Here, I'll do your arms if you do mine after."

"...okay."

Leonardo put his hand out and watched his brother wind the tape beneath his shoulder, fitting it snugly, slowly bringing it down to his hand. The repetitive movement lulled him into quiet, and he remembered how late he'd gotten to sleep the night before.

"Raph needs to learn to be a little nicer," Michelangelo said softly, chuckling as a flush colored Leonardo's face. "He should remember you like to get to bed early."

"I should've known better than to say yes," Leonardo muttered. "He's as bad as you when he gets going."

"Aw, you wound me." Michelangelo began tending his hand, wrapping the tape around his fingers. "I thought I take good care of you."

"You're a sex weasel," Leonardo said without any heat, simply stating a fact. "You're just nicer about it."

"So I'm worse than Donny, too?"

Leonardo's eyes closed. Michelangelo understood. Donatello was as attentive as a scientist hovering over his experiment, always watching, gauging for expected reactions. Sleeping with Donatello was pleasant if unnerving—monitored every moment.

Now Michelangelo started working on the other arm. Leonardo let himself drowse, snatching what small form of sleep he could. Raphael hadn't come in yet, so he could afford to snooze without fearing being teased. And Donatello was still finishing breakfast...

Leonardo frowned.

"What's the matter?" Michelangelo asked.

"Don's still not here," Leonardo said.

"Is that bad?"

"It means he's probably snuck back into his lab and I'll have to drag him out again."

"I don't think so," Michelangelo said mildly. "I mean, you're probably right. He probably shot off to watch his slimes, molds and spores creep across a petri dish."

Leonardo sighed.

"But I don't think that he meant anything bad by it," Michelangelo said. "Since I'm the one who told him that you called off practice."

A moment passed before Leonard understood what Michelangelo had said. "...what?"

"Told him practice was canceled," Michelangelo repeated with the same cheerful smile. "Told Raph, too. He just flopped back into his hammock. And Splinter's sleeping in—don't' worry, I checked. So no one's coming in besides us."

Confused, Leonardo sat straight...and looked down at his arms—completely taped, yes, and completely tangled together. The tape from each arm had been wrapped over and under the tape around the other arm, and with a firm tug, Michelangelo pulled the ends, taking out the slack so that his forearms drew together.

"Mikey—"

"Like I said." Michelangelo finished by wrapping the tape over and over and over his wrists, reinforcing the bindings as he tucked in the ends. "No one else is coming in. You're in here with me for a few hours."

Michelangelo watched the way Leonardo pulled and shifted to test that he really couldn't pull free. The way Leonardo didn't panic or try to run, instead lowering his arms and meeting Michelangelo's look.

Michelangelo felt his suspicions confirmed. Leonardo even waiting for his little brother to take the next step. To dictate the next step. Michelangelo reached over to  cup his face, brushing his thumb across his brother's cheek. The tip slid into Leonardo's mouth up to the first knuckle, then withdrew to hover his mouth.

"What are you doing?" Leonardo whispered.

"I'm testing something," Michelangelo said. "Can you get loose?"

"...no."

"Are you going to run when my back is turned?"

"No." Leonardo smiled with a faint laugh. "Not like I'd get far anyway."

Michelangelo paused. "Do you like that?"

Blinking in confusion, Leonardo tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"Me tying you up, knowing I'm gonna do stuff to you and you can't stop me."

The flush returned to Leonardo's face twice as strong, and he lowered his eyes, refusing to look at him even when Michelangelo tilted his face up.

"I'm going to kiss you," Michelangelo said, "so no one hears you pounding you into the mat. And I'm gonna come before you can, and then I'll see if the coast is clear so I can take you back to my room and do it again. And I'll keep doing it until you beg to suck me off just for a break. Then I'll let you come."

Leonardo's breathing had grown labored. Michelangelo slid his thumb back into his mouth, pressing deep so that Leonardo balked. But when he tried to back away, Michelangelo caught his brother's jaw, holding him tight.

"Do you like this?" Michelangelo asked.

"Don't make me say—" Leonardo whispered, his voice muffled.

"No, you're going to say it." Michelangelo leaned close, pulling his bound arms so that Leonardo was yanked close. "Do you want me to keep doing this to you?"

He felt Leonardo's pulse against his knuckles, felt the warm breath panting over his fingers. Leonardo's eyes shut, and he gave one more struggle to pull away. Michelangelo held him tight as if he was holding a fluttering bird. The blush was down Leonardo's throat, and he absolutely would not look up.

The answer was a small, silent nod.

Michelangelo wondered if his brother would have admitted that to anyone else, if he would have admitted it now if he hadn't been captured first. Michelangelo held his brother a moment longer, savoring that unbroken vulnerability.

The kiss that followed was as fragile as a wisp of incense.

untitled; obiyuki fic

for obiyukimadness, accidental soulbond

if i don’t stop now i won’t ever stop and i have work to do today, so here, have a couple of scenes from a fic that i may never finish and which, if i do finish, will probably either be scrapped or changed beyond recognition, since the rest of what i’ve written more recently for this stupid thing is pretty different already

what you need to know: harry potter au, seventh year, obi super-sneaky cast a spell to bind zen and shirayuki together without their consent and, wonder of wonders, fucked it up, so now he and shirayuki are all tangled together and shirayuki NEEDS TO STUDY FOR N.E.W.T.S, OKAY?? also there are elements of non-con throughout because of obi’s stupid, stupid choices. (o shit yeah also: i gave ‘em last names)

A clap of thunder woke her from a dead, dreary sleep, and Shirayuki -- without opening her eyes and with a groan of instinctual dismay, heart hammering and wide-awake with a sickening lurch -- slapped her palm desperately at her headboard and her wand in its bolted holster above her pillows.

Merlin, but she wished there was a gentler way to wake herself up.

The silencing charm on her bed curtains, at least, ensured that none of her year mates would strangle her in her sleep. And Prickle was the type of kneazle who could sleep through the entire castle falling down around their ears, so the heavy, warm weight stayed content across Shirayuki’s ankles, attempting to lure her back to slumber with indecent amounts of purring.

Shirayuki, alone, suffered the horrendous alarm spell.

A shift of agitation -- muzzy and sleep-addled, like the buzz of distant wasps -- looped about her sternum, tugging.

“Well,” she told Prickle, rubbing at her eyes and shifting up onto her elbows. “If he didn’t want to be a morning person he should have thought for a moment and realized that casting a highly illegal, highly temperamental soulbond spell on two students who had not given their consent would backfire on him in epic proportions. He can deal.”

After all, the whole thing was his stupid fault.

The agitation mounted, tugging more firmly, and Shirayuki scowled beneath her palm. A headache throbbed at her temples, and she felt sick, shaky, weak. Not dissimilar to how she often felt woken so suddenly, on little sleep, still exhausted and worn from the mountainous work assigned her, but much, much worse and with a significantly more frustrating cause.

Reaching unsteadily for her wand, she forced her wrist to move into a smooth clockwise circle, and then cast, “Tempus,” on the sudden uptick. A clock face wavered into perfect existence atop her wand point, hour hand at four, minute hand at ten.

Nearly ten hours since she had last seen him, and considering the distance -- Hufflepuff Basement versus Ravenclaw Tower, could this possibly have been a worse combination -- between them, it --

Was getting worse.

Last week hadn’t been nearly so bad. But each day the spell pulled on them tighter and tight, cinching them inward, pushing them hard until they were plummeting deeper inside each other, until struggling out, away, apart, became an excruciating exercise.

How bad, she wondered, would this have to get before they fixed it? How many hours would they have before the side effects became unbearable? Exactly how close would they need to be, for how long?

Ugh, it was too early to dwell on it.

A wave of her wand dismissed the spell into a dissipating, pearlescent fog, and she gripped the length of applewood in her fist as though for comfort, rubbing at her chest where she could feel him curled tightly in annoyance, woken by her own slap-dash heartbeat and sudden startlement.

Probably, she should say sorry; should go back to sleep and head into the Great Hall at a later hour, let the ache and nausea and exhaustion abate with his presence; should, no doubt, not have skipped out on performing the second-half of the ritual to end this on the last new moon.

But she wouldn’t, because N.E.W.T.s waited for no witch, and it was all his own fault.

So instead Shirayuki was going to get up, escape from the comforting weight of Prickle, and the soft glide of her warm duvet, and she was going to get dressed, and make certain that her robes were not on inside-out this time, and then Shirayuki was going to get some studying done, and to hell with Obi Karasu and this stupid, stupid soulbond.

If the agitation prickling along the barrier of her ribs eased, soothed, turned rueful and fond in response to whatever involuntary feelings of apology and guilt Shirayuki may or may not have felt at waking him up at 4:50 in the morning, then she just sniffed, annoyed, and ignored it, because she wasn’t going to say she was sorry, and if he knew that she was then that was cheating and did not count.

“This sucks,” Shirayuki told Prickle, who opened one glittering green eye and yawned, teeth gleaming, plumed tail twitching, and entirely without sympathy.

*

Quidditch.

Stupid, stupid quidditch.

Slumped in an armchair in the library hours later, Shirayuki glared blearily at the quill clenched between her fingers. The ink on the nib had long since dried, and Yuzuri, at this point, had both elbows on the table, chin cradled between her palms, watching her with interest.

“You know...”

“I do, actually, know a lot of things,” Shirayuki interrupted desperately. “What I do not know is how I’m going to get any work done if he insists on flying about every morning.”

Yuzuri snorted. “It is quidditch season, you know. And he is their best player.”

“He’s just a beater,” Shirayuki complained, glum. “Maybe if he was a chaser then I’d understand. Or seeker, even! But he just -- hits things --”

“Mm, yes,” Yuzuri grinned. “And he does it very well.”

Groaning, Shirayuki finally released her quill and allowed herself to slump forward onto the parchment that was meant to be twenty-three inches of Potions essay, and was, instead, mostly just staggered blotches and emptiness. Merlin, but her head ached. There wasn’t much, she thought, that she wouldn’t do for the kind of migraine that could be cured by just going to the infirmary.

But no. It could only be cured in one way.

And just -- what the hell was wrong with him?

Didn’t he know how stupid it was to be on a team during Seventh Year? He should have been focusing only on N.E.W.T.s, he should have been studying, not hundreds and hundreds of feet up in the air, dizzying heights, far above her and out of reach, their bond pulling and tugging, straining worse than it did with the entire distance of the castle between them.

What an idiot.

“I think I hate him,” she wailed, voice muffled by the crook of her elbow as she buried her face in her arms. “I am so tired.”

Yuzuri patted her head gently, hesitated, and then plucked at Shirayuki’s hair. “You should really put this up in a ponytail,” she tutted. “You’ve got a bad case of bed head, Shirayuki. I meant to tell you. You can’t go see him looking like this.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Shirayuki whimpered.

“Then do so elsewhere, please. I’ll watch your stuff, so just go. You know it won’t get any better until you do.”

Unfortunately, that was true. Because of the stupid bond Shirayuki had to give up valuable studying time to hunt down Karasu by the Hufflepuff dorms so she could snag him after quidditich practice. When he was all sweaty, and flushed, and encased in leather padding, and...

Ugh. This was the worst.

“Well, now you just look down-right flustered,” Yuzuri commented when Shirayuki finally leveraged herself back upright, waving her wand at Shirayuki pointedly. “You look like you could use --”

“A hug,” Shirayuki said, voice flat, and refusing to acknowledge the flush that wanted to burn her cheeks.

“Sure,” Yuzuri winked. “If you wanna call it that.”

*

Ten minutes later Shirayuki was stumbling past the portrait that led to the kitchens towards the cluster of barrels that disguised the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. She was practically one with the wall by the time she got there, and let herself slump into a defeated lump on the floor to wait.

“I want a nap,” she told the empty corridor sadly.

It was all well and good that Yuzuri could joke about Shirayuki getting some, but the truth of the matter was that the side effects of that stupid spell Obi had performed were awful. The migraine was a pulsing agony, her vision slick and blurred, white lights and nausea to the point of vomiting. If she could have convinced her sluggish body to go any faster she would have, but she couldn’t.

The real kicker, though, was how sluggish her brain felt. Mental exhaustion was the worst of the side effects in Shirayuki’s opinion. She had N.E.W.T.s to conquer. A mental hiatus for any length of time was too long.

Despite the truly impressive amount of work she’d gotten done last new moon, Shirayuki did, indeed, deeply regret not finishing the ritual needed to break the soulbond spell. She just hadn’t realized how pervasive this spell would become. How incredibly, absolutely consuming, and impossible to ignore.

Next time, she promised. Next time I will not forget!

But in the meantime, she supposed it wasn’t such a bad thing if she just closed her eyes. Just for a moment. Karasu wasn’t going to show up any sooner just because she kept her eyes open, after all, so there was no point in bothering. She’d just...rest. A little.

And if she fell asleep listening to the fast-paced beat of another heart echoing inside her chest, well, no one had to know.

*

Shirayuki woke up when another body slumped down to the floor beside hers, almost close enough to touch.

“Mornin’,” Obi grinned, looking weary. There were bruises beneath his eyes, and his skin looked pale, soured. Even his eyes were glassy, too-yellow when usually they were a bewildering blend of darkened topaz and rich honey and pale gold. A bead of sweat lingered on his brow. “You look like shit, Akagi.”

“Touch me,” she said.

“Holy -- shhh, jesus fuck, Akagi!” Nervous, Obi darted his gaze around the hallway, but he must have waited to wake her until the rest of his teammates had gone inside, and there was no one in the hallway to have heard.

Honestly, Shirayuki wasn’t certain she would have cared if there had been.

“Touch me,” she ordered, voice slurred with sleep and pain, and lifted up her arm to offer her hand. It trembled, slightly.

Grumbling, Obi pulled off his quidditch glove and, after only a small hesitation, laid his palm against hers. Instantly, relief swelled through Shirayuki. It doubled as she caught the ricochet from Obi, the two of them overlapping, mingling, pressing into each other too intimately. “Ohhh,” Obi groaned,  leaning the back of his head against the stone wall and rocking it there, eyes closed, an expression of agonized bliss on his face.

Shirayuki bit her lip, trying not to think of Yuzuri’s suggestion. Trying not to think about anything other than how much she needed to get back to the library as soon as touching Obi stopped being as necessary as breathing.

“It’s like a fucking drug,” Obi complained. “Complete with body-wrecking withdrawals. I almost fell off my broom today, Akagi.”

Shirayuki frowned.

“Don’t,” Obi said, scrunching up his nose and refusing to open his eyes to look at her. “Ugh, I can feel your worry, all right, and your disdain for our practice sessions, stop it, that’s enough. What do you have against quidditch, anyway?”

“Nothing. It’s just -- distracting.”

Distracting, like the low-burn of arousal she felt from Obi every time the pain went away, a knee-jerk reaction. Like the horniness he carried with him every day, all the time, because he was seventeen and hungry and it was ruining Shirayuki’s life, because before this she had had control of her hormones, she had been better than this, damn it.

“You are so weird, Akagi, I don’t even know where to start." Obi sighed, lashes fluttering as he forced his eyes to open and remain so. “C’mon, we gotta go before any one comes by and sees us. Do you -- No, wait. I’m starving, actually. Have you eaten?”

Shirayuki admitted, “No. I didn’t want to loose it when the side effects set in. And I need coffee. Lots of coffee.”

Laughing, Obi went to his feet. Their fingers were linked, locked, never letting go. Shirayuki was tugged up with him, helpless to do anything but follow him down the sort distance to the entrance to the kitchens, basking in the way their momentary contentedness layered, sweet and soft.

*

No stranger to the kitchens -- late night study sessions in Ravenclaw common room necessitated copious amounts of snack food, after all, and Shirayuki had done her due diligence in retrieving it at three in the morning -- Shirayuki tickled the appropriate pear, grasped the resulting door knob giggling against her palm, and led them inside.

“Oh! Obi Karasu, sir! You has come again!”

Shirayuki’s forward march to a cleared space at one of the long, rough hewn tables bisecting the massive, high-ceiling room was brought to an abrupt halt. For a moment, Shirayuki thought about twisting her hand out of Obi’s grip. Most of the side effects of the spell had eased, though relief still shivered beneath her skin at the prolonged contact. But it was enough to get by; she could have easily escaped.

Sighing, she turned toward the house-elf quivering before them, and summoned up a smile, made all the more easier for the throb of fond affection Obi felt, suffusing her with an indulgence she might otherwise not have found without coffee.

“Now, Bonky,” Obi started, voice warm and curled through with amusement, “You know I couldn’t possibly stay away from you. How’s it been going?”

“Oh, Master Obi! We is just fine, just fine!” The house-elf, knee-high, with large, gleaming eyes and a neat, pale-yellow shawl wrapped about his little body, grinned fit to split his face. “Master Obi is too kind to ask after such as us, sir.”

“Is that so?” Obi asked, sounding convincingly surprised; but Shirayuki felt the frission of helplessness and frustration course through him, there then gone, and turned to look at him. Obi glanced back, eyes all honey-glaze and secrets. He looked back at the house-elf, but Shirayuki lost the thread of the conversation, thinking: he always did have a lot to say about house-elf rights in History, didn’t he?

Shuffling closer, Shirayuki took a deep breath in, let it out, and leaned against Obi’s side, arm to arm. He shifted beneath her weight, and she felt the sharp, bright note of his surprise before Bonky pulled him back into conversation.

*

Eventually, Bonky released them to be fed.

A veritable army of house-elves saw the two of them seated at a table near the massive fire, and a small spread of the breakfast mirrored above in the Great Hall had been set out for them. The crush of sound was almost comforting. The clang of copper pots and the thwock of knives, ladles ringing, dishes being washed eased the heightened, too-aware silence between them as they muddled through the indignity of eating one handed.

Shirayuki thought about being embarrassed. Thought about being horrified that handsome, clever, popular Obi Karasu was watching her get cream on her cheeks and nose, golden flaky bits of pastry all over her robes and sweater. Thought Yuzuri, at least, would be mortified at the way she shoved food into her mouth, heedless, reckless, without grace or poise or manners.

She had seen him far worse, after all, and that when they had been little more than acquaintances; when he had been Zen’s friend, an irritation on her peripheral that was too loud, too bright, too boisterous, glittering gold and shifting shadow, secret darkness too deep and treacherous to ever risk the venture.

And then Obi had wrenched that choice away.

So she stuffed herself full, uncaring, her fingers shifting, sliding, catching against his, their knuckles grazing the rough wood of the bench, pulling and tugging and readjusting, and never, ever letting each other slip.

Obi Karasu could deal with her, all of her, every single improper part of her.

He had no one but himself to blame, after all.

*

Later, after they’d each eaten their fill, Shirayuki said, voice low: “They’re quite fond of you.”

“Hm?”

“The house-elves,” Shirayuki clarified with a faint smile, watching him steadily.

Obi grimaced, free hand cupped around a chilled goblet of pumpkin juice while he straddled the wide bench, his thighs -- still strapped into all-too-enticing, corrugated leather protective gear -- flexing as he shifted forward. Shirayuki sipped from her own hefty mug of sweetened coffee in a helpless bid to moisten her suddenly dry mouth.

Quidditch uniforms were the worst.

“House-elves have always been pretty fond of Hufflepuffs,” Obi dismissed. “And I mean. I’m not a part of S.P.E.W. or anything, which I think they appreciate. It’s not like I do anything in particular, I’m just, you know, naturally charming and awesome.”

“You treat them with respect,” said Shirayuki, and she opened her mouth to say more -- that he treated them better than most humans, like sentient beings deserving of affection and equality, like friends, and that it was all the more important for being a conscious choice -- but she felt the twist of his agitation and discomfort sharp in her gut, and let it go.

“I’ve never been to the Hufflepuff common room.”

“The Basement?” Obi asked, surprised. “No? Huh, that’s right. You Ravenclaws don’t really party much.” He grinned, a bright gleam of white teeth against dark skin. “Pity, we’ve got some good party favors. I would totally get you high, Akagi, you’d love it.”

If Shirayuki was very, very lucky, Obi took the hot, vibrant burst of arousal in her gut at his stupid, perfect grin as anger. She muttered into her coffee, “That is a waste of valuable studying time. Really, Obi, we’re in our Seventh Year.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Obi said, rolling his eyes. Between them, their clasped hands shifted, awkward, uncertain. “Anyway, wanna come with? I can show you.”

“I should really get back to the library.”

“Oh, my god,” Obi groaned, tipping his head back. Shirayuki stared at his throat, frustrated. In her chest her heart beat fast, hard, and she saw the moment it echoed in Obi’s because he started, chin coming back down with his brows raised up in question.

He decided, “Yeah, no, you need a break, Akagi. If you spend any more time in that library you’re going to actually become a fixture there, permanently, and then you won’t ever get to do anything with all that knowledge you’re hoarding.”

“No,” she said, and watched the way Karasu moved beneath the surge of her emotion, the roiling morass of half-thought, visceral reaction; the sting of irritation, the hot buzz of anger, the helpless drip of desire and how much Shirayuki hated feeling that way.

“I need,” she tried, again, swallowing hard, “to go back and study. Yuzuri is waiting for me. But --”

Obi wasn’t looking at her. He was looking down at their joined hands, and she could see the shift of his jaw as he clenched his teeth, the furrow between his brows; could feel him in her veins, a black tide -- regret, shame, acceptance -- that threatened to drown before pulling back.

“We do need to talk about this,” Shirayuki admitted. With a sigh, she slipped her hand free from his. “We -- the new moon isn’t for another two weeks, and we can’t go on like this, right? Pretending like nothing is happening and then almost -- almost falling off of brooms, really. So we... We’re going to set up a plan, a -- a schedule, or something. So I’ll see you later, Karasu.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, slipping from the bench and standing, stretching, as if he hadn’t a single care, as if this was nothing at all. When Obi’s voice got sharp and flat, like a smooth sheet of tin, Shirayuki could hear the emotion strike off it like raindrops on a roof. He thought he was subtle. He was not subtle.

Honestly, it was endearing and stupid. He was endearing and stupid.

Shirayuki didn’t fight the surge of affection that got stuck in her throat, and huffed a sigh at the way his eyebrow twitched, feeling it. “You’re a menace,” she complained. “And I need to study. Don’t you need to study?”

“Eh,” said Obi, rocking back on his heels. He was waffling, now, confused by the swift change of her emotion, of the back-and-forth. She was exhausted, confused, furious.

None of this was fair. She hadn’t asked for this. For Obi in his stupid, sexy quidditch uniform, stretched lean and long and rippling before her, still sweat-damp and beautiful, and --

Eventually, Shirayuki realized she was staring because Obi was staring back, jaw dropped a little with surprise.

It was the surprise, really, that jerked Shirayuki away from her hormones. Irritation welled up in her, warring with the need to lick the sweat off Obi’s collar bones and neck until he was shaking beneath her, gasping, and --

A blush suffused his skin, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Did he have to look so surprised that she found him attractive? Really? What was she, a rock?

“You need to leave,” Shirayuki huffed, shoving at her fringe. “I mean it. I don’t have time for --” she waved her hand at him, fluttering it in the air in disgust, “-- this.”

His heart flipped in her chest -- lub-da-lub -- and --

“Right,” Obi babbled, edging toward the door out of the kitchen, sounding wildly confused by what he was reading off of Shirayuki’s emotions. “I’m gonna -- study, too, I guess, if just so you’ll stop nagging me? And shower. Cause I must stink. Rank, right? I left practice as soon as we hit ground to find you and so -- I, uh, sweat. Stink. Shower!”

“Go,” Shirayuki managed, before her stupid sex drive could quite finish latching onto Obi showering.

this thing wants to be some weird mash-up of angst and comedy or some weird shit and also apparently i really want to spend too much time talking about how badly shirayuki hates her father because i really think teenage shirayuki in an environment like this would not be quite so cool with daddy being awol, and there is just, a lot of things that are cropping up that i’m tripping along behind too slowly to keep up with, so yeah, we’ll see if anything else ever comes of this, HOPE YOU HAD SOME FUN THOUGH, i figured the least i could do was save the silly pervy-esque bit for you guys /thumbs up??

A/N: Here’s a Part 2 to my KC/Hades and Persephone drabble, “Fill Me with Your Kissing Death,” I wrote for AU week. It can be read as a standalone, but both parts/chapters are here under the title “Our Lips Are Raw with Petals and Pomegranate”:

(A03) (FFnet) 

I’d also like to send a special shout out to the lovely Helen, @klarolinessecondbreakfast, because her stunning KC edit (here) reduced me to a flailing fangirl within seconds *cries: it’s so beautiful* and provided me with the inspiration to f i n a l l y finish this damn thing. And thanks to my beloved Sadie Sadie, @kickassfu, for listening to me bitch, moan, and complain about this story (and all of my writing) without cease.You ladies are the best! 

Enjoy lovelies.

xx Ashlee Bree

Drain Me of This Blushing Neglect

Many eons ago, in a land rife with sharp, barbed edges which were thicker than mountain bone yet more slippery than a snake’s shedding skin, and throughout a kingdom forged out of tinted glass the color of dragon’s breath and oppressive temperature swings that clattered teeth or beaded flesh with sweat, a god-king paced the dim crooks and corridors of his home at all hours like a wraith. And like a wraith, he floated through his duties and demands. Lost to all dreams of delight.

It was during a time when loneliness still cracked hard along Klaus’s knuckles as well, charring blood between his bones until it drained into deeper pits of nothing because there was only empty air to hold, because there was only that whistling despondency around each muscle, around each tendon of his fists. It was in a moment, too, when midnight felt like a silk rope around his neck: exquisite in its strength and power to bind, but so tight he wanted to choke while his fingernails pried at the prickly coffin. Crying out for a rose-snowed droplet of life. Gasping for the swell of cerulean waves and dawn’s preening feathers.

As he skulked beneath the dense fog of another unbearable death-day one evening, however, a yellow daisy suddenly appeared like a vision to slip through the full but dark moon above his head. With naught but a single petal, it slithered open the center with a flawless vibrancy that made it impossible for him to blink. Eager, it seemed, to dig itself through the earth’s dirt and worms so it could wilt somewhere against the austere rock below, near his feet. Perhaps even die. For, there, in the Deadlands, the only water which existed came from tears which weren’t plucked—never plucked—but scratched from a cemetery of miserable, tormented, bloodshot eyes.

Klaus monitored the daisy’s progress with rapt attention. Curious, of course, but also flummoxed by the crumbling stones of the plum sky which fell to the ground like droplets of hail as the petal sliced its way inside. Humming vivid streaks of moisture atop blunt peaks and ashy ravines. And also illuminating the air with songbird waves that were slowly taking form. Down the center of the moon the flower cut with smooth purpose and precision, seeping into the Deadlands with a gush so it could unfurl all its spring curves before him like a million rays of honey slipping from a budded sheath.

It expanded toward him in silky green leaflets first, and in peachy feminine limbs second. Revealing to him, not a flower, but a garden of a woman not yet in full bloom. A sagacious, cheerful young woman, who, like him in a complementary way, was an outcast in a cosmos where multifaceted hopes or ambitions were stifled—blackened until they could no longer breathe. And yet…

The young maiden planted herself before him like a partially eclipsed tree: half shaded, half shining rays of gold.

“Sorry if the light stings a bit, but you’ll adjust to it in time. And to me,” she said, beaming. “My name’s Caroline, by the way.”

Like a perfectly off-kilter dichotomy, she then offered Klaus a sprite “hello” with no bow. Unafraid, it seemed, to match him eye-to-eye; nor to face him, toe-to-toe.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought it proper to introduce myself.” Caught off guard, all he could do was blink. “You know,” she added with a flippant hand gesture plus an anxious bounce of her toes, “since I’m to become queen and everything?”

“Truth be told, love,” he sighed and scratched the back of his neck, “I don’t recall placing an order to the Sky for a midnight bride, so I’m at a loss here. What are you saying? And how did you manage to squeak through the gates of my home without prior—ah, what’s the word?”

“Death?”

“I was going to say invitation,” he said with a twitch of his mouth, “but frankly…yes.”

“Oh, that.” Caroline rolled her eyes then snorted like the answer was obvious. “I came of my own volition, silly! I found and ate your lovely forbidden fruit.”

“You…you what!?”

“No need to pretend to be shocked or anything. That pomegranate was a devil to procure, sure, but not impossible by any means. (Personally, I think on some subconscious level, you hoped someone would find it and that’s why you didn’t obscure it from view completely.)”

“Besides,” she continued lightheartedly, “I was determined. I needed a new home where I could cultivate my extremes, and you…” she bit her lip, “well, you needed me.”

Klaus blanched for a second time, recovering only long enough to arch a brow at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. You do.” Caroline fixed him with a penetrating glance and crossed her arms. “You need me—I can feel it.”

Chuckling, Klaus mused over this last comment before billowing around her with an acute gaze so he could assess her, head-to-foot. He took in her green-thorned thumbs, her soil-hemmed gown, her hair woven through with dandelion weeds, and couldn’t help but think her an anomaly. A beautifully assertive and provoking anomaly, mind you, but an anomaly all the same.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said in reply, “but I assure you I require nothing and no one. I never have and I never will. Moreover, the absolute last thing I desire is a spring queen.” “In fact,” he added with an air of protracted arrogance and a voice which boomed with commanding certainty, “were I so inclined to choose a bride for myself at all—which I neither am nor plan to be (I prefer to rule alone, unchallenged, you see)—what makes you think I’d dare to select one as fresh or as perky as you are, hmm?”

“Wow. Are you so greedy and bitter that you refuse to share the falling granules of Time with me? Seriously!?”

“And what if I am?”

Caroline gaped.

“You know,” she narrowed her eyes; placed her hands on her hips, “I rather expected you to be glad of some eternal company down here after all your time alone…but nope!”

“Instead, you’re nothing but a stubborn and pretentious jerk who’d rather sift along in solitary sameness, absolutely miserable, than usher in an opportunity for change and cohesion! You’re…you’re a coward! Terrified of the mere possibility of intimacy, you are,” she scoffed. “You want it more than anything, but you’re too damn afraid to let yourself have it even though I’m basically gifting it to you for free! And let me tell you, pal,” Caroline added with an arm-crossed humph and a pout, “being alone by choice is infinitely more tragic than being alone by command.”

“Pretentious jerk, eh?” Something twinged hard against his ribcage. “Coward?” It was his heart. It was his heart twingeing; it was his heart heavying in his chest.

“That’s not so awful,” Klaus said with forced apathy as he let the stinging truth of her words sink in. “I’ve been called much worse than that.”

“What?” Caroline’s brow furrowed and she softened. “By who?” she asked.

“My father…earthlings…tormented souls…” He offered her a tight, painful smile. “Anyone and everyone, I suppose.”

“Really?”

Klaus shrugged, glancing away to kick at a rock.

“I’m sorry that’s…that’s not okay. I shouldn’t have—you’re not that bad, okay? You’re just a little…rough around the edges is all.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Don’t let it go to your head or anything, and definitely do not make a habit of infuriating me, because I will throttle you,” she said, daring him to try with a look, “but I kind of like that you’re enigmatic. You’re vexing in a good way, you know? You keep a girl on her toes.”

Caroline drifted closer then, and it thrummed something deep inside of him because he could smell her authenticity. He could feel how much she meant what she said.

Soft and delicate, this spring darling was spun from thread that burned gold with candor, consideration and care; so instead of flaming into annihilation when another’s anger or pain snipped at one of her split ends, she curled herself around the wound like a compress and shined hope against it until all felt possible. Until all was healed again. Not healed in the way it once was, mind you, but doctored in a way which stitched all the residual agony together, making one feel better about the jaggedness it left behind in the end. More calm and controlled about it, so to speak.

She was nourishing in presence as well. She cultivated growth in a way that required the shoveling up of his old roots to study tangles and bends because she believed it was the only way to see where the neglect first started, because it was the only way for her to calculate when the rot would win out if there were no intervention.

(Not that Caroline wouldn’t work like hell before disease encroached that far, of course. Because she would. She did.)

Hair trickled over her shoulders like blades of grass bending in the breeze, too. It framed her in shades of mercy so blonde, and so glossy, she reeked of pure sincerity and compassion, infecting everyone she met along the way. And while the trunk of her was deep and grooved with shadows—not to mention full of thick sap Klaus smelled but couldn’t see without sawing further beneath her rings, the leaves of her were airy and graceful and constantly swaying in a fashion which he considered to be most distracting. Yet…

Also (much to his chagrin), grossly enchanting.

This young woman, who had appeared in his kingdom without beckoning, was beguiling in an unsettling way. She unnerved him with tender words and mannerisms until the distrustful paranoia in his mind began to thaw…until the cold armor of his chest started to fall with a settled plonk near his ankles.

Something about Caroline primed his ears to listen and consider before he spoke. Where, with anyone else, his mouth wouldn’t hesitant to strike out or blast.

So, why the discrepancy? What was so halting about her, how was she so melting?

She was everything Klaus shunned, after all. She was everything Klaus pertained to loath here in this jarring domain…amid these burdensome, endlessly lamenting, clutching souls.

A woman who, with a chirping voice much too high and sweet when she spoke her three-syllable name: Caroline, Caroline; plus a smile which held the promise of sharp green, yellow, blue and pink demands, and a chin stained with the red-orange juice of a pomegranate, had asked upon her arrival, if he’d clip open the iron cage around his heart for her. Wondering, sanguinely, if he’d make room for a white-blossomed girl with nothing to offer him but seeds.

But would he?

Could he?

Klaus already knew no one wanted to amble through the dank and troubled air of his thoughts, of his kingdom. Just like he understood no creature in existence thirsted for his smoldering artistry, either.

It seemed people feared the scraping of his charcoal fingertips through their heads because he tended to linger over their memories, dreams, and friendships until they shivered or sweat. The cretins never once appreciating the skill it took to sketch out every folded swoop of longing he found wound around their bones like shoelaces. Which was laughable, frankly. Truly laughable. After all, what was so hard to fathom about a king, sentenced to the dark, who knew how to paint others’ misery?

All beings shrank away from his hunger, though. They always had. They found fault with his voracious creativity and called him the Sculptor of Shadows behind his back while they tittered.

(And they were always tittering.)

Something unsettled earthen kind about the way his glare ripped them apart to draw what once was in the realm above, to paint that which was no longer their’s to hold or hide. With his eyes brushing against all the weight their hearts had to bear in life, he colored all conflict out of them and stroked it into the air for review.

Each piece was unique in its daunting, but exquisite, truth, too. No two stories, no two people, were the same.

Klaus had an innate talent for depicting with whom another’s life was shared, for how long it was felt, why it was relished, resented, or missed; and when it all came to an end—but most people hated it. Hated him for his creations. Every single one of them were unable to understand precisely why their old lives must be preserved on ghost canvasses that could echo, but could never be touched again. They couldn’t reconcile how much agony it cost him to portray things he longed to experience himself, but most likely never would.

Klaus knew, too, that no soul, dead or alive, cared for knowledge or insight into his bruising history. People preferred ignorance. People preferred not to hear.

It mattered not that his step-father, Mikael the Mighty, kicked him from the cloud-castles of his birth and into the pits of hell because he thought him a plague on the Original family—a repulsive half-blooded beast, you are; and no son of mine, he’d said before punting Klaus into the Deadlands to rot; to be forgotten; to roast in the flames like garbage—only that people distrusted the moonstruck yellow of his seer eyes more. They were eyes which stalked through so much of others’ loveliness and adventures, but reflected no such contentedness of his own in their depths.

Unfortunately, suspicion and aversion were the emotions which won out first and foremost among the once-living. It was easier for earthlings to fear him. Loath him. Misunderstand him. It was easier for them to condemn his pledge to preserve everlasting memories in death than to understand that he’d never waltz in the arms of the changing seasons himself unless he did so vicariously:  through them.

Perhaps it was too difficult for anyone to believe Klaus might know something of dejection, too? Or grief. Or wonder. Or longing for something alive. Perhaps it was impossible for anyone to fathom that the Kindred of the Damned might know something of suffering, too?

“You can’t fool me, you know,” Caroline cut in like a chirping dove.

“No?”

“No.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I…” Eyelashes flicking to his face, gaze unwavering, she shuffled forward with tulips trailing in her wake to place a tentative but steady hand on his chest. “Because I hear the muffled howl of your heart full of holes—how all of that emptiness blows straight through you. It calls out like the notes of a flute every time the wind rustles in the hopes that someone out there will hear it and rush into your arms. That’s why I came. I heard it, I felt your aching melody in my veins,” she said, her voice as soft as a feather. “I still do.”

Reaching for his hand, she beamed up at him with the rose-gold softness of a million suns as she intertwined their fingers in a tender, comforting way he’d never been shown before. The gesture caused Klaus’s throat to scratch uncomfortably. His lungs tingled with the warmth of a coming sunrise, making it almost difficult to breathe.

“That doesn’t mean you can dethrone me, though, sweetheart,” he replied in a low drawl.

“It doesn’t, you’re right. But if you let me,” Caroline said with a tilt of her head and a spreading smile, “I could occupy one next to you so you always have someone by your side?”

Those words, as legend later would claim, changed everything.

For, although she left behind a small lesion on the moon’s sooty, weathered face where her perfectly-petalled tip punctured it with grace and light, she showed Klaus the finesse of bending instead of breaking. She replenished his rotted insides with laughter, with hopes of forever which tangled them together like two onyx-shamrock stems dancing in the wind. She taught him how, sometimes, a heart given freely beats louder and longer, feels fatter and fuller, and gushes softer and surer than a heart that’s taken forcibly.

Before long, Klaus realized her nectar burned too bright for him to resist the urge to close his eyes and revel in her liquid sunshine taste…so he breathed Caroline in until he was blinded. And here’s a little secret:

He never regretted it once, either.

Over the Mountains - Chapter 7

Sepha was soaking wet as Dwalin pulled her out of the water into the bathroom of Bard's house. She was so cold that she didn't even care that she had just crawled out of a toilet.

"We need to warm you up," Bard's eldest daughter said, quickly wrapping a blanket around the shivering girl. "You're turning blue."

"Seph?" FIli's gentle voice whispered, his warm arms wrapping around her, "What happened?"

Sepha shook her head, "I guess I'm just not used to the cold."

What she didn't want to tell them was that her back was stinging from the fish in her cuts and the cold was making her weak and uncommonly cold. Her whole body was working to heal her wounds so she had less body heat to keep herself warm.

"You should get cleaned up and warmed," The girl said. "Come, you can wash in the wash room."

She gently led the girl into a bathroom set off from the other bathroom. This one didn't have a toilet but it had a large basin for washing and there was a pot of hot water.

"You can wash in here," the girl said, "I'll bring you a fresh change of clothes. but for now you can use these."

She held out a pair of pants to Sepha, a pair of leather boots, warm socks, a white shirt and a wrap for her bosom.

"Thank you..." Sepha said.

"Sigrid," the girl answered her, "And you're welcome. What is your name by the way?"

"Persephone," Sepha replied. "but everyone calls me Sepha."

Sigrid's face lit up, "That's so pretty! I'll let you be."

With that, the girl headed off, leaving Sepha alone in the wash room. Sepha tested the hot water and poured a good amount in the large basin, cooling it off slightly with cold water so it wasn't scalding. She then submerged herself into the water as much as she could. She grabbed the bar of soap and cloth and washed herself thoroughly. Soon she felt ten times better and even managed to clean her hair and get the tangles out.

Climbing out, she wrapped a towel around herself while she wrung out her hair. it hung straight and damp down her back, reaching past her waist. She pulled on the breeches and boots, then wrapped her bosom with the wrap Sigrid gave her. She held off putting on the shirt, wanting her back to air out a while.

She was just preparing to pull on the shirt when she heard a board creak behind her and spinning around, she found Thorin standing in the doorway of the wash room. She quickly hugged the shirt to her chest, glad that the bindings covered everything of her front except part of her stomach but it left most of her back bare.

"THorin.... you scared me," she gasped, preparing to pull the shirt on.

"Wait," Thorin said softly, stepping forward.

His hand reached out and he pushed her hand down so she wouldn't put on her shirt. His calloused fingers reached out and gently turned her around so her back was facing him. She felt his warm fingers brush against her back.... tracing her scars.... touching the soft flesh that was just healing from her most recent encounter with a whip.

"When did you get these?" he whispered.

"Thranduil," Sepha replied, knowing that there was no avoiding tell him now. "Right before Legolas got me out."

"Why didn't you tell me?" THorin whispered, his voice gentle but laced with concern.

"I didn't want to be a burden," Sepha whispered back.

When Thorin didn't reply, she thought he was upset.... but then she felt his hands reach up and gently stroke her long hair.... then his fingers traced her neck.... her bare shoulder.... her arms.... Sepha felt all the air escape her when both his arms found their way to her bare waist and gently stroked the skin there.

She felt his body heat as he took a step closer so that his dry shirt was touching her bare back.... then she felt his nose brush against her bare shoulder.... then his beard.... then he pressed his lips to her shoulder.... letting his lower lip graze her soft skin. He then reached up with one hand and brushed her hair to the side, exposing the side of her neck and he pressed a gentle kiss on the soft skin of her neck, just below her pretty pointed ear.

Sepha's breathing hitched and she gasped as Thorin's arms snaked all the way around her and his hands lay against her stomach, hugging her close so that she could feel his hard chest against her shoulder blades.

"Thorin..." she gasped, her voice barely audible.

Thorin placed another kiss on her neck, hugging her closer, "Hmm?"

"I...."

Thorin gently gripped her hands and turned her around so that she was facing him, "I love you Sepha...."

Sepha felt her whole world freeze. Her heart stopped beating at least for ten whole seconds. her breath froze and her eyes widened.

"wha...."

"That was why I did what I did," Thorin whispered, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "When we were at Beorn's.... and you were healing.... it was then that I knew that you are my One. You complete me.... you make me whole. I didn't know how else to tell you and I was hoping Balin would help you understand but then Thranduil...."

Sepha's green eyes were staring at Thorin, stunned and not quite knowing what to do. Thorin smiled softly at her and ran his calloused thumb across her cheek, "You don't have to say anything in return.... you don't have to do or say anything. I just want you to know that I love you more than anything."

Sepha was hoping dearly that her mouth wasn't hanging open but Thorin just smiled, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving her alone in the wash room to finish on her own.

Thorin.... loved her. And she had been too dumbstruck to say it back!

When Sepha emerged from the bathroom, she looked fully refreshed. Her rich brown hair was dry and billowing around her shoulders and her hips in long brown waves. Her face was clean and everyone could see the color returning to her cheeks. She was wearing only boots, a pair of black pants and a white shirt that was tucked into the pants but she looked much more comfortable. As she came into the room, Tilda, the younger daughter skipped over to her and held out a brown cotton sweater.

Smiling, Sepha took it and thanked the girl, pulling it on over her shirt and shivering at the warmth it gave off. She then saw FIli and Kili sipping mugs of hot tea at the table so she walked over and sat down across from them.

"How are you feeling Seph?" Fili inquired.

"Better thanks," The girl replied.

"What about your back?" Kili inquired.

Sepha's head snapped up and she looked over at THorin who sat near the window, staring outside as if in a  daze.

"Yeah he told us," FIli replied. "But he made us promise to keep it between the three of us, Dwalin, Balin and Oin. That way we can help you if anything happens."

Sepha smiled, "Thanks boys."

Kili smiled and reaching over, he hugged the girl, "We're just glad your back. I think uncle is the happiest."

Sepha's green eyes flitted back over to Thorin again and this time she realized he was looking at her. She quickly ducked her head when her face lit up with a blush but the two brothers noticed. When she looked back at them, they were both smirking knowingly.

"So are you going to tell him?" Kili inquired.

Sepha's eyebrows shot up, "Tell him what?"

"That you love him back," The dwarf pointed out.

Sepha felt her heart stop, "how did you know about that?"

The young dwarf smirked, "I happened to make really good friends with your friend Tauriel while we were prisoners. Then while Balin and Dwalin were gushing over you at the edge of the lake, she told me about your little talk in the woods."

Sepha ducked her head again and blushed, hearing a soft chuckle from the two brothers.

"I promise, we didn't tell anyone," FIli whispered. "Actually now, we have a leg up on Dwalin and Balin."

"A leg up on what?" the girl inquired.

Fili grinned, "After the developments recently, Kili and I think it will be before we leave lake town that you and uncle become a 'thing'. Dwalin and Balin still think it's sometime after but before we reclaim Erabor."

Sepha sighed and rolled her eyes, "And exactly what is a 'thing'?"

"Oh you know.... smiling at each other," Kili replied. "Maybe holding hands.... kissing....fondling..."

"Okay I think I've heard enough," Sepha sighed, earning smirks from the two boys. They looked absolutely ridiculous with those grins on their faces.

"Dont break his heart too much," Fili whispered.

Sepha rolled her eyes and ruffled their hair playfully, earning a yelp from Kili who was very picky about his hair. Stepping away from them, she grabbed the comb Tilda had leant her and began to brush her hair. She managed to get the tangles out but her hands were still cold so she could barely do anything to her hair. Thorin seemed to notice because she felt his eyes watching her.

Finally giving up, she undid the mess she had attempted and turning around, she set the comb down and approached Thorin. He was leaning against the wall, watching her when she approached. She could barely look at him but when she did, she blushed bright red.

"Can you help me?" she asked in a whisper.

Thorin stood up straighter, pushing himself off his leaning position and uncrossed his arms, "With.... your hair?" he asked, surprised and uncertain.

The girl nodded her head, "if you don't mind...."

Thorin shook his head, "No I don't mind but.... do you know what.... that implies?"

Sepha nodded, "YEs."

Thorin suddenly remembered their conversation in the dungeons of the woodland realm. He had told her about the hair braiding being a sign of affection and marking territory. He felt his heart beat quicken as Sepha turned around for him and didn't move as he ran his fingers through her hair.

THorin was halfway through braiding her hair when he realized what was happening. Sepha had asked him to braid her hair... knowing that it meant that he was showing her signs of affection and marking her as his own.... and she was letting him! He felt his heart swell with hope as he finished braiding. He paused, about to ask her if she had a bead when a thought jumped to his mind. She had let him braid her hair.... maybe he could chance it.

Reaching up with one hand, he removed the silver bead from his hair and gently placed it in her hair. It looked perfect in her dark brown hair, bringing out the copper in her hair.

He was about to tell her he was done but thought better of it. Sepha was his right now... and none of the dwarves were watching them.... Fili and Kili were talking together softly, Balin and Dwalin discussing breaking into the armory. The others were either asleep or sitting around the fire talking to Bilbo.

Thorin gently reached down and tangled his fingers with hers, smiling when she felt her tense but then relax almost instantly. He felt his heart freeze when Sepha took a half step back so that her back was pressed against his hard chest. She turned her head gently so that her ear was in front of his mouth and she gently pressed her face to his chest.

The dwarf prince brought his hands up, still holding her hands and wrapped them around her waist, feeling her smooth waist through the shirt and sweater. He cocked his head slightly so that he could press his nose into her hair and gently kiss her neck gently.

The two were snapped out of their quiet moment by the return of Bard who had news that the house was being watched till the next morning. Sepha and THorin jumped apart but Sepha noticed FIli and Kili waggling their eyebrows at her, implying that they had seen most of it. She shook her head, warning them to not say anything.

It was late and Thorin had been discussing plans with Balin and Dwalin for hours. Ever since Sepha and Thorin's private moment, the two had barely been in each other's presence. Thorin had squirreled his two close friends to a corner of the room where Bard couldn't eavesdrop to discuss things while Sepha spent the rest of the day talking with Bilbo, Tilda and Sigrid.

It was late and Bard was sitting in a far corner, reading. Bain was staring out the window while Sigrid stroked Tilda's hair. Sepha was sitting on the floor, crossed legs looking at the fire when Tilda walked over and sat down beside her, leaning her head on her shoulder.

"Do you ever miss your mother?" she whispered.

Sepha felt her heart freeze, "Yes Tilda.... every day."

"What happened to her?" she whispered.

"She was killed....when I was little," Sepha whispered. "I barely got to know her."

"Then how come you miss her so much?" the girl asked.

Sepha smiled as Tilda moved to lay her head in Sepha's lap. Sepha gently stroked Tilda's pretty hair and smiled at the sleepy, saddened girl, "Even if you don't know someone very well, if they care about you and you care about them, you'll never forget them and you'll always miss them."

Tilda turned and smiled at her, "Fili and Kili tell me that you can sing."

Sepha turned to look at Fili and Kili who were leaning against the wall nearby, watching her with smiles. Kili had his head leaning against Fili's shoulder. His leg had been bothering him but now he was just tired.

"Yes.... I guess so."

"Can you sing to me?" Tilda whispered.

Sepha looked at FIli and Kili who were of course giving her pleading looks. Half the other dwarves were asleep, Thorin, Dwalin and Balin were talking together, their backs to them. Bilbo was sitting in a chair, sipping tea and watching her. Sigrid and Bain had leant forward towards her at Tilda's words.

"Okay," Sepha sighed.

She started humming softly, the humming fill the room. Suddenly, Fili, Kili and the other dwarves, minus Balin, Dwalin and Thorin began to hum to the rhythm with her, making the harmony. after a few seconds of that, Sepha stopped humming but the dwarves kept going while her voice gently came out in a ripple of soft, gentle words, fitting perfectly with the deep humming of the dwarves.

When she finished, Tilda had fallen asleep on her lap and Kili was sound asleep, his shoulder on Fili's. All the others were just sitting there, remembering the song that still hung in the air. Sepha looked at Fili who nodded towards Thorin. Turning, Sepha saw the dwarf prince watching her, his arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile on his face.

Blushing bright red, she looked down with a smile. She carefully helped Bard who scooped up the sleeping Tilda and carried her off to bed, taking his other two children with him for the night. The dwarves then set about preparing for the night. They laid out blankets that Bard had given them and curled up, back to back as close to the fire as they could.

Sepha helped Fili lie Kili down without rousing him before grabbing a blanket herself. She found a large enough space for herself near the edge of the group and laid down, wrapping herself in the blanket. She was about to drift off to sleep when she felt someone lie down behind her.

Turning slightly, she saw Thorin's large form as he laid down, on his side facing her, his head propped up on his hand. Sepha blushed when she realized he was looking right at her. She turned back around with a smile.

Suddenly, his arms snaked around her waist from behind and he drew her against him so her back was flush with his chest. He laid back flat on his back, still keeping one arm underneath her shoulders and the other around her waist. After a moment of not moving, Sepha moved so that she was on her back and she turned her face so that she was looking at Thorin's face. His eyes were closed and he looked so peaceful.... so regal when he slept.

She gently laced her fingers with his hand that lay on her stomach. Impulsively she reached up and gently traced his features with her finger ever so gently. When her finger finished tracing his jawline and his beard, she let her finger wander to his bottom lip and gently brush it, her eyes fixed on his lips.

She saw him smile, his eyes still closed. Realizing that he hadn't been asleep, Sepha went pink as he turned his head to look at her and he opened his eyes. His bright blue eyes shone in the dim light as he looked at her, his whole heart in his eyes.

"Sorry," she whispered.

She was about to retract her hand but Thorin gripped it with his free hand and gently brought her hand back to his cheek. She laid her hand against his cheek and he turned his head to kiss her palm.

"You never have to apologize for anything," Thorin whispered, tracing her face with his finger.

For a while they just lay there looking into each other's eyes, tracing each other's features. After a while Thorin noticed the girl's eyes drooping so he shifted so that she was lying in a more comfortable position, her side flush with his side and his arm still around her shoulders. Sepha laid her head against his shoulder and pressed her nose and face into the side of his neck, closing her eyes.

"Amaralime," Thorin whispered, drifting to sleep immediately.

Sepha opened her eyes a moment and knowing that he was asleep, she smiled, "Givashel," she whispered before falling to sleep.

Thorin didn't hear that single word but Fili and Kili who had been watching the whole thing unfold from across the room exchanged excited looks.

"And of course she says it when he's asleep," Fili whispered.

"Patience brother," Kili whispered. "Patience."

When Sepha woke, she realized that she wasn't the first one up. Dwalin, Balin and THorin were already up. That was when the girl noticed that there was another jacket lying over her instead of just the one she fell asleep with. She was about to sit up when she took in a deep breath and smelt the smoke and pine smell of the blanket.... THorin.

She felt her cheeks go bright pink, realizing he had removed his coat to lay it over her while she slept. Slowly sitting up, she saw that Thorin, Balin and Dwalin were all quietly rousing the other dwarves and preparing them to sneak out to the armory. She soon found herself staring as he watched THorin gently rouse his nephews, his hard toned back muscles flexing beneath his blue shirt.

"Morning lass," Gloin whispered to the girl.

Sepha smiled and sat up, stretching and pulling her jacket back on. She picked up Thorin's and walking over to him, she held it out to him, trying to not blush bright red when he took it.

"You have to stay here," Thorin instructed.

Sepha's head snapped up and she frowned, "Why? Are you saying I have to stay here?"

"At least until we get the weapons," THorin replied. "I'll send FIli back to you when we have the weapons. It's too dangerous especially if we get caught."

Sepha frowned deeper and crossed her arms, "If this has to do with my injury...."

"Sepha," Thorin sighed, placing his hands on her upper arms and looking deep into her green eyes. "Just please spare me the worry of you getting hurt or endangered further and just stay here till Fili comes back for you."

Sepha wanted to object but after hearing Thorin's words, she thought better of it. Thorin was looking deep into her eyes, no anger or annoyance on his face, only a soft, gentle look of concern. The girl bowed her head and nodded.

"Okay," she said in barely a whisper.

Thorin smiled and slipping one finger underneath her chin, he lifted her face to look up at him. He just looked into her eyes for a moment before smiling. Sepha felt her breathing hitch at his smile. Whenever he smiled it seemed like his eyes lit up and his whole face just changed....into something brighter.... kinder....handsomer....braver.

"Amaralime," he whispered before reaching over and planting a kiss on her forehead.

He left the girl standing there, too stunned and too bright crimson to move. She barely noticed Fili and Kili come give her encouraging looks and hugs before hurrying out after their uncle.

When Sepha finally managed to break out of her daze, she found herself alone in the sitting room. All the coats were gone and the blankets lying on the floor. Deciding to not waste her time just standing there, she began to grab the blankets and fold them into a neat pile. Then, she sat down near the window and stared out, waiting to see the blond head of Fili when he returned for her.

Hours passed and the girl began to worry when Bard came down the stairs, his children following. He took in the empty living room and the lone girl sitting by the window within a second.

"Where did they go?" he insisted.

"I honestly don't know," Sepha replied. "They left hours ago to the armory but they still haven't returned."

Bard groaned and charged through the door. Bain, Sigrid and Tilda followed but not before Bain and Tilda both grabbed one of Sepha's hands and pulled her after them.

When they finally stopped running after Bard, they had appeared in the town square which was packed with people. Sepha was short, barely coming within Tilda's shoulder but she managed to make out a conversation that Bard was having with the master of the town and THorin. They must have gotten caught!

Sepha was aggravated that she couldn't hear any of the conversation but when Tilda huddled close to her, frightened but the sounds, she held her close. Suddenly, she managed to make out THorin's voice above all others.

"What say you?"

There was a pause before she heard the master, "I say unto you.... welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, king under the mountain."

Sepha let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and sighed. Sigrid suddenly caught sight of her father and began to pull Bain and Tilda after her. The three turned to the girl, suddenly realizing that they might not see her again.

Sepha smiled and hugged each of them, "I'll see you again. I promise."

The three smiled and after giving her a hug, they rushed off to find their dad. Sepha wove through the crowd till she came upon the dwarves who were all laughing and clapping each other on the back.

"Sepha!" FIli cried, pulling her in for a hug, "I'm so sorry I didn't come back for you but we got caught..."

"Yeah I figured," Sepha replied. "Dont worry. Just don't scare me like that! I'm too young to have a heart attack!"

There was a chuckle behind her and she turned to see THorin standing there, looking fully pleased and confident.

"Now we cannot have someone as pretty as you going and having a heart attack," he remarked.

Sepha felt her face go bright crimson from those words but was glad that Dwalin found that moment fitting to come over and swallow her in a huge hug.

The company were soon shuffled off into the hall so they could be given rooms for the night. Sepha soon was pulled from the dwarves by a young handmaiden who led her to a private room.

She gave Sepha the key to the room and showed her where the bath materials were and her dress.

"Don't forget that there is going to be a feast tonight," the girl pointed out. "Best be down within an hour."

"Thank you," Sepha replied.

When she was alone, she contemplated having a bath but then remembered that she already had one the night before and she rather liked the hairstyle Thorin had put into her hair. She then just washed her body and slipped into the dress she had been given.

When she finished, she headed out the hall and almost collided with Fili. The dwarf grinned at her brightly and offered her his arm which she gladly took, allowing him to lead her to the feast.

The feast was still going on but now most of the people weren't eating but either drinking and getting seriously drunk or dancing. Thorin was sitting in the seat he had been assigned for the feast and he hadn't moved from the spot once. He had a mug of ale in his hand but he hadn't even brought it to his lips. It just gave his hand something to grip to keep himself calm.

Dwalin and Balin were laughing at something Oin had said but Thorin didn't even hear them. His blue eyes hadn't move from the one person they had been on all evening. The moment FIli had entered the hall with Sepha on his arm, Thorin had found it virtually impossible to breathe. At first he thought it was the ale but then he remembered that he hadn't drunken any of it.

His blue eyes were steadily watching the girl as she was passed from person to person on the dance floor. Through the whole dinner she had sat between Fili and Kili, laughing at the jokes they kept shooting at her and constantly playfully groaning whenever the two brought up another bet they were making.

Thorin hadn't spoken a word to anyone since she had entered and hadn't even looked at anyone. It was a miracle his eyes weren't drying out because he barely allowed them to blink. He watched the girl playfully dancing with Bilbo who was trying to teach her a hobbit dance but she kept stepping on his feet. Whenever Bilbo's eyes widened with pain whenever her foot stomped on his, she doubled over in laughter and her eyes shone brightly.

Whenever this happened, THorin's hands gripped his mug tighter, making his knuckles go white. It wasn't because he was upset that the girl was finding Bilbo and the other dwarves' company so enjoyable but the fact that whenever she smiled or laughed, THorin's breathing became hitched, his heart drummed faster and butterflies erupted in his stomach. Gripping his mug was all he could do to keep himself from getting up from his chair and doing something stupid and all together improper.

"Thorin," Balin said, finally realizing that the dwarf hadn't been listening. "Are you going to sit there till you boil her brains with your stare or are you going to ask her to dance?"

THorin didn't look at him but kept staring, "Mm."

"That's not an answer," Dwalin pointed out, poking Thorin in the arm.

Even though both brothers knew that if THorin did go and dance with Sepha, there was a strong chance things would lead to another and eventually Fili and Kili would win the bet but Thorin was going to scare someone with that stare of his. Of course, everyone who knew him knew that the look he constantly was giving Sepha nonstop for the past hour wasn't one of anger (even though most people would mistake it for a lethal glower), but rather one belonging to a man who was terribly in love.

"What do you want me to say?" Thorin muttered, still not looking at them.

Dwalin shrugged, "Either take a drink of that ale or ask her to dance. If you don't drink that ale soon I will because that full mug is beginning to get rather tempting."

Thorin was about to push the mug over to Dwalin just to shut him up but he suddenly needed again for at that moment, Fili approached Sepha on the dance floor and got her into a dance. Thorin recognized the dance all too well as a slow dance that his mother had taught him and Dis.... his sister must have taught Fili for his nephew did it perfectly and was working on teaching Sepha how to do it.

HIs heart swelled as he watched his nephew point at where Sepha needed to put her feet and slowly lead her through the steps. He was surprised at how fast Sepha caught onto the dance but that surprise soon disappeared when he saw the girl smile at something Fili said and then when Fili said something else with a mischievous, teasing smirk on his face, Sepha blushed bright red.

Balin and Dwalin were quite sure that Thorin was going to squeeze the mug so tight that it would burst.

Balin was almost on the verge of taking the mug from him when Kili came over and stood on the other side of the table, across from his uncle, obscuring his view of Sepha slightly. He crossed his arms and rested them leisurely on the table.

"Hey Uncle," he said cheerfully, acting all innocent, "You should dance with Sepha. She's a really fast learner and a really good dance partner."

Thorin swallowed thickly and looked at his nephew, hoping his glare would tell Kili to move but his nephew just smiled and didn't move.

"I'm not moving till you go and dance with her," Kili threatened. "Or I could make up some story to her that when a dwarf doesn't want to dance with a girl, he is actually not interested in her."

At once he had THorin's full attention, "That's a straight up lie."

"Not exactly," Kili admitted, earning nods from Balin and Dwalin who agreed. "It is the duty of the dwarf to mark her as his own by dancing with her at least once. Of course, considering that everyone has danced with her once already, people will start to get ideas that no one has claimed her so....."

That seemed to break the cord for Thorin grabbed his mug of ale, took a deep swig and then slid it down the table to Dwalin who at once snatched it up. Thorin got up from the table, giving his nephew a glare before heading around the table and onto the dance floor.

"Good job laddie," Balin whispered, winking at Kili who had a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

"You have twelve hours," Kili warned. "Just pray that ale doesn't make Thorin too confident."

Meanwhile, Thorin had approached Sepha who was still dancing with Fili. Of course, the moment Fili saw THorin coming, he smirked and made an excuse to go and check on Kili, leaving Sepha alone on the dance floor. The girl was about to head over to join Bilbo again who was teaching Nori and Dori a dance when he felt a hand on her elbow.

Turning, she looked up into the piercing blue eyes that belonged to Thorin.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked.

The girl smiled and nodded, allowing him to take her hands. She felt her cheeks flush when his huge calloused hands encased her small, slender, soft ones. She looked up into THorin's eyes that never broke eye contact as he drew her close and placed one of her hands on his shoulder and kept her other firmly encased in his other. He then slipped his free arm around her waist, pulling her close to him so that her chest was pressed against his.

Sepha had no idea how she was breathing or even moving for Thorin's eyes wouldn't stop looking at hers. When she realized that he was barely blinking, she glanced down but still felt his gaze boring into her face. She felt Thorin slowly move his fingers so that they intertwined with hers and he slipped his arm further around her waist, making her gasp slightly.

"You look beautiful," Thorin's voice came in a whisper.

Sepha blushed bright red and she found that she didn't know what to say. In that case, she leant her head against THorin's hard chest and closed her eyes, allowing Thorin to lead her through the slow dance. THorin's arm held her waist tighter and he brought her hand to his chest, right above his heart and held her hand there, between his heart and his hand.

The girl felt his breathing on her neck as he bowed his head and rested his mouth on her partially bare shoulder, planting a soft kiss there.

The moment was perfect and Sepha didn't want it to end, hoping that by keeping her eyes closed she made it last longer. What she didn't know was that Fili, Kili, Dwalin and Balin were watching the whole thing from across the room, ridiculous grins spreading across their faces.

***********

When the dance ended, THorin didn't release Sepha but instead kept one hand around her waist and led her from the dance floor. He was going to lead her to the company but the girl held back.

"I think I'm going to head to bed. I'm tired from everything that's happened to night and I don't want to be exhausted for tomorrow," the girl explained.

Thorin nodded in understanding but kept his hand on her elbow, "Can I escort you to your room?"

Sepha quickly ran through whether or not she should let him. Of course she was dying for him to, dying to have some time to the two of them and hopefully tell him how she felt but then again, it would seem improper in most cases. Yet again, a lot of people had been drinking.... so if anyone asked, Thorin was making sure she got to her room without running into any person who was too drunk to think clearly.

"Sure thing," she said, smiling.

Thorin offered her his arm and she took it, suddenly realizing how tired she really was. Lucky for them, none of the company noticed their departure and there was no one in the hallways as they made their way to Sepha's room. It was right across the hallway from Dwalin and Balin's room. The dwarves were sharing rooms two by two except Sepha who had her own room (duh!:))

Even though they had already passed Thorin and Nori's room a while back, Thorin escorted the girl all the way to her own bedroom door. When they got there, Sepha pulled out her key and turned to Thorin.

"Thanks," she said. "Are you ready for tomorrow."

Thorin didnt quite here her and suddenly snapped out of his daze, "I don't know...."

The girl smiled, "It'll be fine. I promise."

Thorin felt his head swimming as he looked down at the girl who was smiling at him, her green eyes glowing. He had no idea what was happening until Sepha had taken a step forward and standing up on tippy toes, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek just above his beard. If Thorin had found it hard to breathe watching her smile, he was about ready to pass out right then and there.

The girl smiled sweetly at him and took a step back, "Goodnight Thorin."

With that, she turned to unlock her door but Thorin's voice that came in a hoarse whisper stopped her.

"Sepha...."

The girl turned to look at him only to realize he had taken a step towards her and when she turned around, he was right upon her, their bodies inches apart and his nose brushing hers. The girl gasped slightly and instinctively her hands went behind her for she was right up against her door.

Thorin's hand reached up and pushed her hair out of her eyes and off her shoulder, exposing her neck and collar bone. The girl was staring up at him, her green eyes wide with shock and anticipation of what was going to happen.

Thorin's hand trailed along her ear.... to her cheek, across her jawline.... down her neck, across her shoulder..... down to her hand..... then to her hip.

Sepha gasped softly when Thorin's strong hand gripped her hip, drawing him closer to him as he took another step forward, pressing her back against the door. There was no space between her and Thorin now.... their noses practically touching as Thorin looked down at her with his piercing blue eyes that were turning dark with want and need.

Thorin's other hand reached up and cupped the back of her neck gently in his hand, rubbing the nape of her neck with his finger, his thumb stroking the skin below her ear. Sepha could hear nothing except her heavy breathing that was coming in gasps and her heart that was beating faster than a horse's pounding hooves.

The dwarf prince leant forward and brushed his nose against hers gently, sending chills down her spine and goosebumps over her arms. the tip of his nose brushed the skin right below her eyes.... then down closer to her mouth. She could feel his breath on her face.... she could practically taste his breath as their air mingled between them.

She felt her eyes fluttering closed as Thorin's nose pressed against the side of hers and he drew her face closer to his. Thorin closed his eyes and was quite sure he could feel the cool feeling of her lips as he drew her near.... but in a second it was gone when they both jumped apart at a loud sound that literally gave them a heart attack.

Sepha let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and Thorin jumped back, Sepha bending down to snatch up the key she had dropped without realizing it. Both turned and saw that Balin and Dwalin were stumbling down the hallway, obviously both drunk for Dwalin's eyes were constantly swiveling into the back of his head and Balin was trying to support him but looking just as bad himself.

The two dwarves stumbled to their door and somehow Balin managed to find his key and unlock the door that was already unlocked before the two stumbled in, slamming the door behind them.

Thorin turned back to Sepha who had managed to unlock her door and now had it open. She was standing in the doorway, facing him, one hand on the frame and the other on the doorknob, ready to close the door.

Both found it impossible to find words so Thorin just nodded.

"Goodnight Sepha," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Goodnight," the girl whispered before smiling and closing the door.

When the door closed, Thorin let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was going to box Dwalin in the morning! With a final look at the door, he turned and headed back down the hallway to his own room. As he crawled under the covers, he ignored the snores coming from Nori across the room and curled up, thinking of how close he had been to kissing Sepha.....how he had found it impossible to breathe.... or to even think.... it was like he couldn't breathe without her.

With a certain brown haired, green eyed quarter breed on his mind, THorin fell asleep and slept better than he had in a long time. Meanwhile, Sepha was sitting against her door, looking up at the ceiling with a huge grin on her face, her eyes closed. Thorin had almost kissed her! He had been so gentle.... so slow and careful as if he was afraid to scare her by moving too fast....She would have fallen asleep against the door except the bed sounded more comforting and she fell asleep the moment she hit the bed, the smile still on her face.

What neither of the two knew was that the moment Thorin's door closed, Dwalin and Balin's door opened and both dwarves poked their heads out, fully sober and with pleased smirks on their faces. Down the hallway, another door opened and two more heads poked out, looking at the two with evil glares.

"We still have a few hours," FIli whispered to Dwalin and Balin.

"You two are going down," Kili added before he and his brother drew their heads back into their room.

Dwalin and Balin exchanged knowing looks and head butted each other before going to bed, the small amount of ale they had finally taking over and knocking them into a deep slumber.

Down the hall, Fili and Kili were glowering at their door.

"Those cheaters," Fili spat. "Of all the millions of ways they could have interrupted our triumph, they had to fake being drunk!"

Kili nodded, "We have until tomorrow when we leave for Erabor brother.... we need to up our game."

"But how will we do that?" Fili asked. "After being interrupted like that, who knows how long Thorin and Sepha will take! It's like recovering from a wound!"

Kili nodded and began to think when his eyes fell on the beads in his brother's beard. A smirk came across his face as he got an idea.

"I think we should get up early and acquaint Auntie Seph with the truth behind courting beads."

Fili's face brightened when he caught onto his brother's plan. Both dwarves fell asleep, smiles on their faces, quite sure that their plan would work perfectly.

t was somewhere around midnight when Sepha was waken to a knock at her door. she shot out of bed, having grown accustomed to surprising awakenings in the middle of the night. When the knocking continued she climbed out, not caring that she was wearing only a nightgown that was tied around the waist with a sash. She grabbed her sweater she got from Tilda and pulled it on over the top since the top was slightly see through.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by the sight of Fili who looked worried. "Sorry to wake you Seph..."

"It's alright," the girl said, stepping out, "What's wrong?"

"Kili is tossing and turning," Fili replied. "He's having a horrid nightmare but I cannot wake him and I cannot calm him down. I got uncle and Oin but neither can wake him either."

Sepha nodded and closed the door, following Fili down the hallway to his room. When they entered the room, they saw that Oin was trying to calm Kili who was shivering and muttering in his sleep. Thorin was standing at the end of the bed, looking completely concerned for his youngest nephew. Sepha noticed that he was only wearing a shirt and pants and his boots. The shirt revealed part of his chest but Sepha fought the blush that lit up her face.

"Ah thank goodness you're here lass," Oin said, causing THorin to turn around and notice Sepha's presence.

Sepha stepped over to Oin, fighting the urge to look at Thorin who she knew was watching her for she knew she would blush if she looked at him. Walking over, she looked at Kili who was sweating and muttering in his sleep.

"I cannot calm him," Oin said. "He's so deep in sleep that he wont wake till morning... but we need to calm him."

"How?" the girl asked.

"He needs you to comfort him lass," Oin said, "You always had a way with Kili with that voice of yours. Gandalf wasn't kidding when he said that your voice is like medicine to those who are troubled."

"I need to sing to him?" Sepha inquired.

Oin nodded, "he needs to know you're here. That should be more than enough to calm him and allow him to sleep peacefully."

Sighing, Sepha nodded and walked past Oin. She reached over and with Fili's help, lifted Kili's head and sitting on the bed, she placed Kili's head in her lap and gently held it so he wouldn't hurt himself tossing and turning.

She gently stroked his hair and allowed her soft voice to fill the room. Almost as soon as her voice started, Kili stopped tossing and muttering and his features seemed to relax.

When Sepha's soft voice finished, Kili was sleeping peacefully, a smile on his face and he had stopped sweating and was breathing gently now.

The girl let out a sigh and looked at Fili who was smiling, his eyes still worried but his face calm now. Oin nodded and before telling Fili to warn him if it happened again, he left. Sepha didn't dare move for she didn't want to wake Kili but she soon realized how tired she was. She leant her head against the bed post and stroke Kili's hair.

"Thanks for coming Sepha," Fili said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Sepha nodded and smiled, "I'm glad I could help."

Fili felt a tinge of guilt when he saw how tired the girl was. He and Kili's plan had been that in the morning they would casually bring up the origin of courting beads to her in the hopes she would get the hint and say or do something that would finally make her and Thorin admit their feelings (or at least her since Thorin already did) but this threw everything off. Sepha was exhausted. Fili had hoped she would get a good night's sleep before they told her about the beads but now, she was almost out from exhaustion.

"You need to rest," Thorin said, finally speaking.

FIli at once got up and helped his uncle move Kili's head off of Sepha's lap. The girl was practically half awake and half asleep, barely noticing that they moved Kili off of her. In that case, Thorin slipped one arm under her legs and the other around her shoulders and lifted her bridal style into his arms.

Fili knew better than to smirk with triumph at this gesture but instead thanked his uncle, said goodnight and crawled into bed before covering his brother up with a blanket. Thorin left his two nephews to their much needed sleep and carried the girl down the hallway back to her room.

He was glad the door was half open so he just pushed it open with his shoulder and carried the now sleeping girl to the bed. As he laid the girl down, he marveled at how light she was. Just when he was about to let her go, Sepha's arms snaked around his neck and she held onto him tightly, burying her face in his neck.

He knew she was asleep but it made him smile widely at feeling her arms around his neck and her face in the crook of his neck. He laid her down and gently removed her arms from around his neck. He laid them down next to her and covered her up with the blanket. He stood there a moment, just staring at the beautiful woman lying before him. Her features perfectly shaped.... her long lashes brushing her cheek as her eyes were closed.... her mouth slightly open as she breathed.

How he wanted to bend down and kiss her but he didn't want to wake her. Instead, he bent over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead before whispering in her ear.

"Givashel."

With that, he stood up and headed out of the bedroom, glancing over his shoulder at the woman he loved before he closed the door and went to his own room.

When Sepha roused the next morning, she was surprised to find a new outfit on the chair by her bed. Smiling, she had a sneaking suspicion that the handmaiden who had helped her before the feast had been in for there was a breakfast of bread, cheese and tea on the table.

Getting up, she ate while she changed out of her nightgown and into the fresh outfit.

She decided to redo her hair since it was getting fuzzy so she undid her braids and brushing her hair, she redid it exactly the way it had been. However, when she went to grab the bead to put it back in, she realized it wasn't her bead. Taking a closer look, she felt her heart stop when she recognized the crest on the bead as the crest of the house of Oakenshield....

Her mind raced back to the day before when Thorin had done her hair....he had put his bead in her hair! Not only had he marked her as his.... but he had professed his love in not just words but actions!

Sepha put the bead into her hair and rushed over to her belt that held her two swords and the bow that Kili had given her. It had been recovered from Bard's house the night before. Searching through the pouch that was attached to her belt, she came across her own set of beads that had the elven, dwarves crest on one side and on the other, the wizard, skin changer crest on the other side.

She grabbed up one of them and held it firmly in her palm before buckling on her belt and bolting out the door. She practically collided with Fili and Kili who both yelped at her sudden appearance. While Kili took in her new attire, Fili looked at her slightly flustered, shocked expression.

"Everything okay Sepha?" he asked.

The girl nodded her head vigorously, "Yeah.... yeah everything's great!"

Without giving further explanation, the girl took off down the hallway. They watched her go and then Kili got a wicked idea and smirked.

"See you at the boat later Auntie Seph!" he hollered.

He was lucky she was out of earshot or she would have clobbered him right after FIli did.

The dwarves were given a quick breakfast during which Sepha sat between Bilbo and Ori who were talking happily about the journey ahead. She picked at her food, finding it impossible to eat. Occasionally she caught Dwalin or Balin looking at her, smiles on their faces but it was weird how they kept looking at her.

FIli and Kili were also watching her but whenever she looked at them, they would glance at THorin before looking back down. Of course, they were trying to get the girl to look at their uncle but she guessed that and she kept her eyes on her plate. She noticed how horribly pale Kili was and it was troubling her.

Finally, they were all ushered to the docks where they were given a boat.

"You do realize we're one short," Bilbo pointed out. "Where's Bofur?"

Sepha barely heard THorin and Balin's reply for she could barely keep herself from chuckling at Bilbo's rather ridiculous hat he was wearing which was far too big for him but he seemed to like it immensely.

When they got to the boat, the dwarves began to pile in and Thorin began to hand weapons down to the others. Sepha climbed in beside Fili and found a seat beside Oin.

Just then, she saw Thorin stop Kili from getting into the boat, "not you," he said gently. "We travel with speed, you'll slow us down."

"What are you talking about I'm coming with you," Kili said, thinking THorin was joking.

"No you're not," Thorin said gently

Kili's face fell and Thorin turned to him, a gentle reassuring look on his face.

"I'm going to be there when that door is opened," Kili protested, tears springing up, "When we first look upon the halls of our father...."

"Kili, rest," THorin said, his voice laced with concern and gentleness, "join us when you're healed."

THorin gently patted his nephew's head before turning and speaking with Fili as Oin climbed out.

"I'll stay with the lad," Oin said. "My duty lies with the wounded."

"uncle," Fili objected, "We grew up on tales of the mountain, tales you told us. You cannot take that away from him."

"Fili," Thorin tried to reason.

"I will carry him if I must," FIli offered.

"One day you will be king and you will understand," Thorin whispered. "I cannot risk this quest for the life of one dwarf. Not even my own kin."

FIli climbed out of the boat but Thorin stopped him, "FIli don't be a fool, you belong with the company."

"I belong with my brother," FIli objected, moving over to Oin and Kili.

Thorin turned his eyes back to the boat and they met Sepha's green ones. He realized she had seen it all and he was about to speak but the girl got up from her seat and climbed out of the boat.

"Sepha," THorin said, his voice almost annoyed but trying to reason with her.

"I'm staying," the girl pointed out sternly.

Suddenly THorin grabbed her wrist and turned her towards him, "Are you just as foolish as my nephew? You are needed with the company."

Sepha yanked her arm away from Thorin, "I am a healer Thorin, it is my duty to stay with Kili. You wouldn't understand. When you become a healer, you take an unspoken vow to protect whoever needs your help and in this instance, Kili needs mine much more than anyone."

Her face softened when she saw tears slowly begin to appear in Thorin's eyes and she smiled. Walking over to Thorin, she took his hands and looked down at them a moment.

"I will take care of him and Fili and we'll you the rest of you at Erabor when Kili is ready to travel. Just promise me that the sickness will not overtake you," she whispered. "When we rejoin you, I want to see the THorin you are now.... not a different Thorin."

Thorin nodded and the girl smiled. "I promise."

Sepha took that as enough reassurance and taking one of his hands, she turned his hand over and placed something small and cold in his palm before closing his fingers around it, hiding it from view. She then reached up and instinctively touched one of THorin's long braids that hung on either side of his face and touched the bead, smiling to herself.

Thorin looked at her, puzzled but the girl smiled and let go of his hand before stepping back. "I should probably go find Bofur. We don't want him thinking we abandoned him."

Before stepping away, the girl stepped on tippytoe and pressing her mouth next to his ear, she whispered something in elvish to him:

"ni méla tye"

With that, she turned and headed off through the crowd and back into the empty hall.

THorin turned back and headed to the boat. He watched as the dwarves continued to pile things into the boat. They were almost ready to go.... then he remembered that Sepha had given him something. Looking down, he opened his palm and looked down at the small silver bead that lay in his palm.

Turning it over in his palm, he took in the elvish and dwarfish symbols on one side.... then the wizard staff on the other... and beneath it... a wolf..... it was her symbol....a courting bead.

Then he remembered what she had said to him in elvish. THorin had never taken the time to learn elvish but over time he had recognized all the most used phrases and words.... and now he realized why what Sepha had said had sounded so familiar..... it meant 'I love you'!

Thorin did not know where it came from but he suddenly left the dwarves to finish the loading and he sprinted through the crowd. He was glad he had left his cloak in the boat because his pants and blue cotton jacket made it a lot easier to run as fast as he could.

When he caught sight of Sepha, she was walking towards the front steps of the empty hall. There was not a soul around.... the guards that usually stood on the stairs were down at the docks.

"Sepha!" Thorin yelled, his voice urgent.

The girl turned around, surprised at his voice and her eyes widened in surprise at seeing the dwarf prince running towards her. She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him but she barely was able to open her mouth to speak. Thorin somehow managed to stop right when he reached her but within a millisecond he had grabbed her face in his hands gently and crashed his lips to hers.

Sepha had always tried to imagine what it felt like to be kissed but she never imagined it felt like this. The way Thorin held her face gently, yet firmly and how his lips pressed against hers so hard yet so gently, full of passion and need, Sepha felt like her knees were going to break.

As Thorin's lips caressed hers with want and need, her hands slipped up and wrapped behind his back, feeling his taut muscles. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her hands, his body almost shaking from joy, fear, desire and worry. She knew why he was kissing her like this. Not just because this was the first time they had ever kissed but because he was leaving.... he was leaving and she was staying and who knew if they would ever see each other again.

Thorin slowly and reluctantly moved away but placed one final gentle kiss on Sepha's soft lips. Even though it was short and their lips barely touched, that last kiss seemed to carry all the need, want, desire and passion. Thorin didn't remove his hands from Sepha's face as he slowly looked down at her, his eyes pooling with tears.

"ni méla tye" Thorin whispered, stroking the girl's face with his thumb.

Sepha bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears but Thorin bent down and kissed her again, totally soft and gentle this time. This resulted in the tears pouring from Sepha's eyes.

Thorin let her go again but wiped her tears away gently, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes. Sepha closed hers and she felt more tears fall.

"Amaralime, I promise that no matter what happens, I will never hurt you and I will always love you with all that I have," he whispered, wiping more of her tears away.

Sepha could barely say anything so instead she just reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Thorin's hands snaked around her and he pressed his face into her soft neck, breathing in her scent, feeling her in his arms. He wanted to remember all of this.

"THORIN!" the sound of the dwarves calling him broke the moment.

Sepha gently pushed away from Thorin and traced his jaw with her hand while sniffling back her tears, wiping them away with her free hand, "You should go. You don't want to keep the dragon waiting."

THorin smiled and holding the hand that was tracing his jaw, he turned his head and planted a kiss on her palm, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. "Take care of Fili and Kili."

Sepha nodded and smiled, placing her hand on his chest, "I will, now go Aramalime."

Thorin smiled widely at that word coming from Sepha's lips. He bent down and kissed her hastily one more time before running back to the docks. He stopped just before he disappeared into the crowd to look back at the girl. The girl smiled and played with Thorin's bead that was in her hair, nodding at Thorin.

THorin smiled and rushed back through the crowd. Instead of heading to find Bofur like she had first planned, she rushed back to the end of the docks where there was barely anyone standing.

Rushing to the edge, she saw the boat that had already passed. She saw Thorin's tall, confident figure standing at the front of the boat. Then.... he turned and their eyes met. A smile appeared on the dwarf prince's face and he reached up to touch his heart where one of his braids lay....where he had placed Sepha's bead. The girl did the same, fingering Thorin's bead and raising her hand in farewell.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Oin standing there, smiling Kindly at him, "We'll see them again."

Sepha nodded and looked over at Fili and Kili who were grinning proudly and victoriously. Sepha sighed and shook her head, knowing full well that the two had won the bet. However, Kili suddenly crumbled and Sepha lunged forward to catch him.

"Kili? Kili!"