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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

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Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 28- New Beginnings

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 5716

Warnings: Sexual themes but nothing crazy.

AN: This is it! Thank you to those who have come along on this slow burning journey! Last chapter before the epilogue!

27- The Raven Queen

...

Ivar's tired eyes were glued to the horizon, the familiar sight of Kattegat in the far distance covered in a blanket of orange and yellow from the slow rising sun. It filled him with joy and suddenly, he felt a sense of urgency to reach its shores.

"You know, we won't reach the beach any faster by staring at it." Heahmund comments lazily with a yawn. He smiles at the look Ivar shoots him, a non threatening glance that the bishop had gotten use to.

"And still I wonder why I've kept you around this long." Ivar scowls, twisting his body to fit back into the very corner of the ship. The seasickness had subsided a while ago, but it was replaced with that returning feeling of uncertainty.

"It is God's will," Heahmund says, and Ivar almost mimicks him in his annoyance, hearing this particular claim from the bishop one too many times. He sucks his teeth, waving his hand about to dismiss the bishops comment. Apparently it was one that the Saxon man truly believed.

Ivar sighs, running a hand atop his smooth unbraided hair. He looks out towards the ships rocking gently beside his own; returning with less than when he left. Such was the sacrifice he made for his idiotic older brother, who promised to return the favor. Most of his remaining warriors were in deep sleep, something he wished he were doing, but his mind would allow him no rest.

One warrior was awake, Dafi, who sat so vigilant, so still in the cape of dawn while the others slept like the dead. Even now he felt the need to prove himself, keeping watch of the calming waves as if he'd have the power to control them if need be. The once trusted warrior nods to his King before fixing his gaze back towards the Northern Sea. Ivar keeps his eyes on him for a moment more, raking over the scar he'd given him before turning away, his rough fingers reaching up to trace the healing wound on his cheekbone. He grunts at the slight sting of it while his mind wandered back to Hedeby.

The taking of Hedeby was fairly easy, and quite successful thanks to Ivar and his men. Of course, the reigning Jarl and the few warriors he had rounded up had quite the fight in them. Their determination to keep the town was strong, but Bjorn's ambition was much stronger.

Within a few days, Bjorn had Hedeby in the palm of his hand and after 2 weeks, he had everything running smoothly with Ivar's intervention. The youngest Ragnarson had a better understanding of organizing the systems in which a kingdom was to run by. By the 3rd week, feasts were being thrown every night in celebration of their success, though Kattegat's King was in no mood to celebrate. He just wanted to get back home to his wife.

A terrible feeling nagged at him that had made him grow uneasy for the rest of his stay in the Danish city. In his desperation he invoked the gods, praying for the safety of his wife and his kingdom. There were moments in which he finally felt his mind was at peace, though he still had a strong desire to return home.

"I worry something might have happened." Ivar mutters loud enough for Heahmund to hear over the soft waves. The bishop grunts.

"What could have happened in 3 weeks?" He responds back with a shrug, crossing his arms and linking his ankles together.

"I don't know," Ivar says, turning back to look at the horizon, "But I've prayed to the gods that they are safe."

...

Asa had the habit of rising before anyone else did in the household, always ready to cause mischief. Giving herself a few moments to blink the sleep from her eyes, her gaze fell toward the raven perched right over the sleeping Queen. She stares at it for a while as she always did, its beady little eyes watching her movements. She rises from her little bed, padding over to the larger one where Artemis slept soundly. The child goes over to pet the mastiff and the cats scattered about the chamber before climbing up the furs to get on the bed.

Siggy was curled up on the empty side of the bed, waiting for her favorite human to return from wherever he had gone to. Asa pushes the feline away, crawling over to the sleeping form hiding under the sheets and placing a chubby hand against Artemis's cheek. She does this a few more times, poking her cheek until finally, she shifts.

"Asa," Artemis groans, cracking an eye open to get a blurry look at the smiling girl, "It's barely morning." The girl giggles, plopping down to lay beside her.

"I'm not tired," Asa whines, fiddling with the sheets until her new guardian finally pulls at them so that she may snuggle with her underneath, "I miss mother." The child says in a melancholic tone not missed by Artemis, who then immediately draws her closer and places a comforting kiss upon her brow.

"I know, sweetness," She whispers to her tiredly, "And I know your mother misses you very much." Asa says nothing, already distracting herself by playing with the Queen's messy hair that she held in her small fingers. A few minutes passed and it was enough for Artemis to try to succumb to the sleep that was drawing her back in.

"Artemis." Asa calls out to her, gently pulling at her hair to get her attention.

"Hmm?"

"Uncle Ivar must love you." To this, Artemis snaps her eyes open, now giving the child her undivided attention. She turns slightly, eyeing the girl who was looking directly at her.

"What?" Artemis asks dumbly.

"Uncle Ivar," Asa repeats, "He loves you." The girl usually had a baby talk to her, as a young child it was expected, but her words were articulated almost perfectly. It struck Artemis odd.

"What makes you say so, sweet girl?"

"He only smiles when you are near him." She lets out a tired laugh, moving a hand forward to push away Asa's fringe and getting a better look at her.

"Uncle Ivar is a menace," She teases, poking at her little nose, "But I love him just the same."

"Father doesn't love mother," The words tumble out the girl's lips so nonchalantly, and Artemis slightly jerks back in surprise, momentarily struggling to find a response to such a statement.

"Why do you say such things?"

"Because father does not look at mother the way Uncle Ivar looks at you." Artemis remains quiet for a few seconds, finding it hard to believe she was speaking with a 4 year old girl. She sighs, shifting her body so that she may look directly at the girl.

"Your father and mother care for each other deeply." She says, though she did not believe the words herself. She did not feel she was the one to be having this particular conversation with her.

"But not in the way you and uncle care for each other," Asa says, "Is that why they left me here? Because they don't love me either?"

"Do not say such nonsense," Artemis scolds her, gently holding onto her so that they may sit up against the pillows. She takes a breath, placing her arm over her tiny shoulders, resting her cheek atop the blonde tresses, "Do not ever think that your family does not love you. You are loved, do not think otherwise."

"Do you love me?" Asa turns, bringing those innocent blue eyes to look at her.

"Of course I do." She reassures her, squeezing her tight. If the child wanted to feel loved, then she would try her best to give it to her. She deserved that much. Asa seemed to accept the answer, her lips pulling into a grin revealing her missing teeth.

Artemis let's out a huff of laughter, laying her head back against the soft pillows in her weariness. It was then that the horns blasted over all of Kattegat, signaling the arrival of ships on their horizon.

The Queen sits up immediately, her heart beginning to thump, and it felt as if it would burst right through her chest. Asa scrambles down the bed and towards the window, Heracles already at her heels. She gets on her tippy toes, pulling the fur curtains back to reveal the ships in the distance bearing Kattegat's sigils.

"Uncle Ivar." She says through little puffs, struggling to keep herself up. Artemis rises from the bed, going over to the window to catch an quick glimpse before picking the child up against her hip and holding back the curtain to get a better look. The ships had the appearance of sailing through the rising sun, close enough to come into view, but still too far from shore. It was a welcoming sight nonetheless.

"Your Uncle Ivar is home." Artemis beams, all the sleep gone from her eyes as she gives Asa one last kiss to her brow before gently placing her down. "We have much to prepare." She tells the child, poking through the leather dividers to call upon Geirdis.

"A feast?" Asa asks, running over to her new little chest that was filled with dresses provided by her new caretaker.

"Mhm. We must welcome the King back home." Artemis tells her, glancing at the raven that now flapped its wings vigorously, "And thank the gods for his and your fathers success."

...

Not once had Ivar thought of gifting a woman flowers.

The idea always seemed ridiculous to him. In the days of his youth he'd often accompany his mother flower picking, as she so loved the wild flowers that bloomed in the spring, but he hated the pastime. He'd sit within the tall grass and pout, watching the clouds float by as his mother and her favored thrall set out to pick the most beautiful blossoms to decorate the hall with. Once they were picked there was limited time to admire their beauty before they easily wilted and died. He didn't appreciate the delicate blooms and their careful beauty.

He wished he could go back to those simple days, the fleeting memories passing through his mind as he eyed a few wild daisies growing by the sandy bank. They were nothing spectacular, white in color with a yellow center, simple blooms Kattegat had to offer.

Ivar grumbles, shuffling over slowly to yank them from the earth, brutally crushing the thin green stems between thick fingers. He ignores the noise surrounding him, of warriors disembarking the ships and greeting their loved ones, in favor of gazing at the daisies.

Of all the things he had gifted his wife, flowers were not among such items, but the tiny little plants reminded him of her gentle ways and soft beauty. So pathetic of a trinket, yet he had such a desire to see her hold delicate blossoms in her hands that so often crafted things for war.

He hears Heahmund behind him, already knowing the bishop had a comment or two to say about the flowers he held. Ivar whips around, flowers held tightly in his fist, watching with narrowed eyes as amusement filled the older man's eyes.

"You're growing soft." Was all he says to the King, a slight snort escaping his lips before his eyes settle past him. Ivar turns and sees Geirdis with Aria beside her, both inevitably waiting for the men of their interests. Ivar smirks.

"You grow soft as well," He says with a snort, "You're looking at my wife's maid?" He questions the bishop, a teasing tone already settling in his words.

"Who?"

"She's young," Ivar continues with a roll of his eyes, ignoring the feign ignorance that Heahmund had attempted, "But I could arrange something for you...if that is what you'd like."

"A conversation for a later time, My King." He says, gently pointing in front of them. Relief floods through Ivar's entire being, spotting Artemis walking down towards the path to the docks with Hvitserk, his little niece holding his older brother's hand as she stumbled into the sand to play. Ivar immediately notices the absence of the mastiff, and wondered what havoc the beast was causing in the hall, but still, he silently thanked his gods, watching his wife as if she'd disappear from his sight the moment he looked away.

"All that worrying was a waste of time." Heahmund points out, though his blue eyes were locked upon the young blonde girl, now gazing back at him with a timid smile.

"Shut up." Ivar mutters, leaving behind the lovestruck bishop in favor of his wife, gliding to her as quickly as he could manage. It was then that he realized the two guards trailing behind her, alongside Tordis. He frowns. An increase in protection meant something far worse had occurred.

"She is heavily guarded." Heahmund comments catching up with him, already aware of what Ivar was thinking.

"Then something did happen." He growls, his fist tightening around the flowers. He pauses to collect his thoughts, feeling as if he were sinking straight into the sand. He let's out a frustrated breath, ready to bark out and demand just what happened during his absence, but the heavy hand upon his shoulder stopped him, and when he sees Heahmund beside him, Ivar's lips form into a tight line.

"Don't," The Bishop says to him, "Not in front of the people."

Perhaps the Bishop was right.

Artemis was momentarily distracted, bending down to pick up Asa who had stumbled and fallen into the sand. She laughs along with his brother as she dusts off the sandy grains from the child's dress as best she could. Such simple actions could have made Ivar smile, to see tender moments he wished to have with his own children someday.

When Artemis finally looks up, her eyes magnetized to his and the grin that breaks out on her lips is blinding. It's enough to make his pulse quicken, and all he wants to do is get to her. He tightens his hand around his crutch, stabbing it deep into the sand with every painful step as he swallows against the dryness of his throat. Seeing her so genuinely happy to see him filled him with an unexplainable emotion, a heat that burned at his fingertips.

They meet half way. Ivar immediately grips her waist, pulling her close as he closes his eyes to savor the moment. She let's out a soft grunt at the pressure and then puffs out a laugh, wrapping her arms about his shoulders just as tightly while on the tips of her toes.

"I've missed you." Ivar mumbles into her hair, smelling the sweet scent of lavender that she seemed to favor. He doesn't let her speak, moving to grasp her chin tightly and planting a kiss over her parted lips. Artemis smiles, laughing against his lips before returning the gesture, molding her lips against his like the perfect puzzle piece.

"I've missed you too." She finally has the chance to mummer, the words hot over Ivar's soft lips, "All of Kattegat did." He hums, peppering her face with little pecks.

"Welcome home, my love." She says to him after his pecks of affection, breathing in his piney scent that was greatly missed. Ivar steps back, feeling a small presence between them. He glances down toward Asa, the girl already revealing her shy nature by hiding behind his wife's skirts, peeking her little head out.

"I have something for you, little one." He softly calls out to her. Artemis lifts the child up against her hip bringing her closer to her uncle. Ivar holds out between his fingers the daisy for her to take. Asa's blue eyes brighten, glancing at Ivar before grasping the small daisy in her chubby hand, eyes marveling the white petals.

"The first bloom of spring," He comments, placing the other daisies right above his wife's healed ear and into the dark sea of her hair, "Pretty flowers for the prettiest girls in Midgard." Artemis rolls her eyes but grins, bouncing the child on her hip to get a reaction from her.

"Thank you Uncle Ivar." Asa says with a yawn, placing her head back into the crook of her neck, bringing her hand that held the daisy to rest on her shoulder.

Ivar smiles triumphantly, chest puffing out in pride. He gently brings a finger to his niece's cheek, stroking her skin softly before turning his attention to Hvitserk, recieving a playful pat on the back from his older brother.

3 weeks felt endless, but he was glad to finally be home.

...

His hands were everywhere.

They grabbed at her, running up the side of her slim waist and up toward her shoulder, gently caressing her neck until finally burrowing into the depths of her hair. Their lips crashed against one another's in passionate kisses drowned out by the ongoing feast.

Ivar hovered over her, nestled as comfortably as he could between her legs, hiking up her pretty dress in the process. He ran a hand down the smooth expanse of her leg tucked tightly against his side in anticipation. He moved away from her lips in favor of kissing her neck, her skin leaving a sweet taste on his tongue making him moan out in delight.

She let's out a giggle, moving her hands to work the tie out of his hair, letting the strands loose as she buries her fingers deeper into his mane. He growls against her neck, a shiver running through him at the contact of her fingertips against his scalp. Lifting himself up, he gazes at her lidded eyes, a lazy smile forming on the very edges of her swollen lips.

"We're missing the feast." She says to him quietly, bringing a hand from his hair to trace a finger over his flushed face. Ivar snorts.

"You think I care for a silly feast when I finally have you in my arms? I'd much rather be with my wife."

"I wouldn't call it silly," She mutters with a smile, "I organized it just for you."

"And our people are enjoying their time there, while I'm enjoying my time here." He tells her with a wicked little grin, but it quickly falters when the music in the hall stops suddenly and the people began to speak in low whispers. Ivar turns his head at the obvious change in mood, looking behind him to see a raven enter their chambers, only to perch itself on its usual spot over the bed. The music slowly begins again and the hall quickly comes back to life as if nothing had happened.

Ivar blinks up at the creature.

"My love," He questions her, turning to see her more than calm demeanor, "What is the meaning of this?"

"It's a raven." Artemis gives a simple reply, the most obvious answer in the world.

"Yes," Ivar agrees, slowly inching his face closer to hers, "But what is it doing here?"

"It has made a home in our hall." She explains, trying her best to get his attention again, though he was too busy making eye contact with the silent bird. She pouts. "The people say it was sent from the gods," She finally gives in with a sigh, feeding into her husband's curiosity, "A symbol of protection." Ivar cocks his head slightly, her words holding his attention.

"Protection against what, exactly?" Artemis pursed her lips, moving to lean against her elbows. Suddenly she looked so tired, as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders.

"Why weigh your mind with troubles so soon? Tonight should be of celebration," She looks at him with the eyes of a child, no doubt his nieces doing, "You deserve a night of rest before settling your mind into Kattegat's affairs." Ivar grunts, giving the odd raven one last look, wondering when his hall became a barn to house all these animals. He shakes his head, pacifying his wife and giving her his undivided attention.

He chuckles when she beams at him, bringing her finger toward the small wound on his cheekbone. She taps it gently, a silent way of telling him to reveal its origin.

"A passing arrow." He answers quietly, watching her eyes trace over his face. They were not so lidded anymore, fully open and alert.

"Ivar-"

"Artemis." He cuts her off, mimicking her tone with a smile. She let's out a huff, moving both her hands down his leather covered chest before placing them upon his shoulders and linking her fingers behind his neck.

"You should have been more careful."

"A minor inconvenience during battle, baby bird." He snorts again, shaking his head before placing his lips against hers in much softer and tender kisses than before. He breathes in deeply, allowing her scent to overwhelm him as his kisses grew more hungry, and an ache began to bloom between his legs.

"How did it happen?" She struggles to say, pulling away from him so that they may both breathe. He groans, but obliges her.

"A warrior shot his arrow faster than I could turn my chariot," He begins to say, placing his brow atop hers, "It would have been far worse if Dafi hadn't pulled me down."

"Dafi saved you?" She brightens up, a smile breaking out on her face. Ivar hums his response, moving his rough hand from her leg, burrowing it under her dress to better caress her side.

"He is a good man," He admits, pinching at her waist and emiting a yelp from her.

"Reward him," She says, "Raise him back up the ranks. Let him marry Aria." Ivar chuckles.

"You should be rewarding me, dear wife, have I not earned it?" She intakes a sharp breath as Ivar's hand ventured higher up her body, caressing her side as he went. He slowly moves up toward her chest, the other steadying himself over her. His eyes never left hers, watching the way her lips part as she let's out little breaths. She stares back at him, her eyes now glazed in desire as he continues to move his fingers over her like he had mastered an instrument, working her up into a panting mess.

Removing her hands from behind his neck, she brings them to his stubbled cheeks, pulling him back down to firecely kiss him, moaning against his lips as she gently jerks her hips up against his in silent request. She breathes softly over his lips before replying.

"Then claim your prize."

...

The feast was still in motion, music lazily being played by drunk musicians. Mummered chatter could be heard in the distance by those who lingered; Hvitserk could be heard clear as day, and the scent of roasted meats still lingered about.

It was still nightfall when Artemis picks up the sound of movement. She blinks the haze from her eyes, having fallen into a deep sleep, so deep in fact, that she had no recollection of Asa being placed into her little bed on the other side of the chamber.

She stares at the sleeping child for a moment before shifting, only then noticing the emptiness beside her and Ivar moving about in the dying candle light. He sits at his desk, a cloth in his hand, and she slowly processes the blood splattered on his face and his hands. He works the cloth over a surface, over the sword she had gifted him. Heracles laid by his feet asleep, while Siggy watched his movements from atop the desk, sniffing at the stench that was permeating around the chamber. It was an endearing sight really, if it weren't for the blood.

The sword was drenched in it, yet Ivar did not seem bothered in the least. In quick movements he wipes the sword down from base to the very curved tip with the now bloodied cloth, the once white fabric stained nothing but red. He began humming something to himself, a low tune to help him work through the mess he had created.

Artemis slowly rises from her pillow, rubbing at her eyes to clear her vision. She pauses, focusing on the song he was humming and how he made it sound so beautiful despite the absence of words. The smell of iron finally reached her nose and she makes a face at the unpleasant smell. Moving the sheets she swings her legs over the edge of the bed before cautiously calling out to him.

"Ivar?" He turns his head slightly at her weary tone, his eyes not showing much of his emotions. He puts the cloth and sword down atop the desk before turning to extend a hand towards her.

"Come." He beckons to her softly, the gentleness in that one word a contradiction towards his actions. Still she goes to him, hesitating in grasping his bloody hand, but she does so anyway. Ivar immediately pulls her closer to him, covering her cream colored sleeping shift in red streaked handprints.

She says nothing for a while, her eyes glued to the sword. She could scarcely see her reflection, her face scattered upon its surface. Leaning against him she finally brings her eyes to his and finds him already gazing at her, his own searching for any hints of discomfort or fear, though he found none. She bends to grip the flowy hem of her nightgown, bringing the edge to his bloody cheeks and wiping the red away.

"You killed them." It was meant to be posed as a question though it came out more of a statement. She knew exactly what Ivar had done. He had enacted his punishment on the rebels in the best way he saw fit.

"I did." He replies quietly, moving a bloody finger up and down the curve of her lower back until finally, he let his hand rest there.

"All of them?"

"Mhm." Ivar grunts his reply, "Though one did beg for your forgiveness quite vocally. Hagen's apprentice."

"Arne." Artemis says his name sadly.

"That's the one, yes," Ivar agrees, shifting to look up at his wife, "I ran my blade through him, through every single one of them, and they all watched each other die." She remains silent, but she nods, accepting the fate that Ivar had delievered to them.

"I am sorry, my love." Ivar says to her, holding her as tightly as she would allow. Bewildered, she looks down at him, noting a sadness in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"What ever for?" She questions him.

"I was not there to protect you," He mumbles, burying his face into her shift, turning his cheek flat against the smooth plane of her abdomine.

"You were away, Ivar, this was out of your control." He growls low at her words. He loathed not being in control of a situation. "Besides," She continues, "I was unharmed, thanks to Hvitserk." Suddenly there was a cawing, and they both turned to look towards the sound. The forgotten raven stood in the center of their bed, wings flapping erratically until it finally stopped to stare at the both of them, a reminder.

"It seems I was protected all along." Artemis looks back down at Ivar, running a hand down his smooth hair. Ivar says nothing, letting her play with his locks as it did help to calm him. They stayed like this for a few moments in comfortable silence.

"Artemis." Ivar says her name, turning once again to look up at her.

"Mm?"

"I am sorry."

"Ivar, I don't understand."

"I feel as though I have failed you as a husband." He let's out a sigh, twisting his fingers into her shift.

"What are you talking about?"

"You have endured so much for me, and yet I've only hurt you in return." Ivar's tone was dropping lower and lower until she thought he might cry, his voice wavering. She removes his hands from her waist, getting on her knees to get a better look at him. He was not crying, but those blue eyes were glassy, a rare sight for him. He'd only ever gotten like that when mourning his mother or Sigurd.

"We have both endured hardships, my love." She says to him, taking his hands into her own. Some of the blood had dried on his skin, but it didn't bother her.

"I killed these people, that young boy, all for daring to hurt you, and I liked it," He tells her with downcast eyes, looking at their entwined fingers, "I liked it. I liked hearing them scream. I liked watching the blood pour from their bodies. And I liked knowing that the cause of their pain was by my hands." She swallows thickly, licking her lips while processing Ivar's dark words.

"I am sorry, my love," He says again, bringing their joined hands to his mouth to place kisses over her skin, "I am sorry that you must play mother to a child not of your blood, when I cannot even provide you with our own to nurture."

"Ivar-"

"I am sorry you were taken away from your home, and I am sorry for being cruel to you in our earliest days."

"My lo-"

"I am sorry for ever causing you pain with my words. For underestimating you and accusing you of ridiculous things." Ivar the vulnerable was overshadowing his usual self, and he finally let's the tears leak from his eyes, like little crystal's running down his chiseled cheeks. Artemis's heart breaks, her own eyes watering at the sight of her husband revealing his most vulnerable side of him. She removes one hand from his grip, placing it on his cheek to rub a falling tear with her thumb.

"I've treated you as everything but a Queen. The whole world can see your strength, your wit, your brilliance," Ivar closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself, "And I could have lost you so easily. I go away and in mere days anyone could have harmed you."

"All this danger you knew was to come remaining by my side, and yet you still stay. I over look that, using cruel words when I should have sang your praises." He opens his eyes, blinking the wet drops from his lashes, and finally, brings his gaze to her. Artemis was smiling through her own tears, and she let's out a laugh, not one of mockery, but one of joy. This was the apology he meant to give her some time ago. This was him pouring out his soul to her.

Moving both her hands towards the edges of his chair, she brings herself up and forward, angling her head right under his to gently press her lips to his. After all this time, their kisses always seemed like the first time.

They both ignore the wetness of their cheeks and noses, and Ivar brings a hand up to grip the side of her face, the other moving into her bed slept hair. Their breathing became erratic, their kisses growing hungrier and hungrier until suddenly, Ivar pulls his lips away from hers. He places his brow to hers, both trying to catch their breath, before he repeats himself again.

"I am sorry, my love. Forgive me." He looked lost, almost defeated. His shoulders sagged and it seemed he had been plagued with such thoughts for some time. She let's out a breath, reaching up again to steal a kiss from him. She offers him a smile, though he doesn't reciprocate it, only anxiously awaiting her next words.

"You are forgiven," She mutters to him softly, "You have been forgiven, my love. Despite everything that has happened, and despite what is to come. You have my heart." His eyes glossed over once more, letting the smallest hints of a smile poke through.

"And you have mine." He replied, reaching forward to engulf her in a tight embrace. She burrows her face into his neck with her arms going round his broad shoulders. She smiles against his skin at the way his fingers pressed against her sides, as if she might just suddenly disappear.

"What is it that you are afraid of, hmm?" She asks him, burrying her hands into his silky hair.

"I'm not afraid of anything." He mutters a half truth.

"Ivar." He sighs.

"I fear you leaving me." He says into her skin, repositioning his hold on her and if he could, he'd never let her go. He's expressed this fear once, right before their wedding. In his head she runs away from him, just as she had attempted to in Wessex. He fears being left alone with nothing but his thoughts. Such a fierce warrior he was, and yet his only fear was his woman leaving him.

"Kattegat is my home now," She tells him, pushing away from him and poking her finger onto his chest, "Anywhere you are is my home." Ivar blinks, licking his lips before nodding.

"I will not give up on you..." Artemis begins as Ivar grasps her hand.

"If you will not give up on me." He finishes, kissing her hands so tenderly, so unlike him in the face of his people. Ivar sighs, rubbing the wetness from his eyes with the back of his hand before smiling at her. That smile made Artemis swell with warmth, and all she could do was return it.

"I love you." He tells her in a tone that held the same strength when speaking to his warriors. He wanted her to know the truth behind those 3 simple words that he'd been guarding away, words he's never said to anyone.

"And I love you."

"To new beginnings?" He asks her, his dark brows raised, the smile daring not to fade from his lips.

Artemis smiles. She was ready for what ever may come their way.

Besides, who can claim to have given Ivar the Boneless a heart? Or rather, who can say their heart was stolen by him?

She could have pounced on him in all her joy, but instead she calmly nods, accepting the kisses Ivar gives her before replying against his lips.

"To new beginnings."

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @leilabeaux @jzr201 @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @rastakami23 @ostra814 @zumzum96

#vikings #ivar #ivar imagine #ivarfanfiction #vikings ivar #ivarxofc #alex hogh andersen #ivar the boneless

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ariannjs · 5 years

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MORNINGS | A SasuSaku FanFic One Shot

For Day 22 (Early Mornings) of SasuSaku Month 2019 :)

Rating: K+

Summary: Surely, he wouldn't trade waking up on mornings beside Sakura for anything in the world.

Here’s a one shot describing the love of a husband and wife, inspired by the Greatest Love I know. <3

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Meanwhile, here’s an amazing art commission by @blissuniverse for this fic! I’ve always wanted to ask her for a commission before, I’m so glad that it finally happened! <3

[Reblogs are fine but please DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE.]

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The light seeping through the venetian blinds caused Sasuke to slowly open his eyes. On most days, the sudden welcoming of the sun's heat and rays after a good night's rest would normally irritate him and give him a struggle to regain a good mood throughout the day. But today was one of those days that he's not on a long term mission in any of the hidden- villages. He's sleeping with the comfort of a mattress and not in a forest or a cave. He's in his safe place. He's in his home.

Groggily, he tried to sit up, only to lie back down on the bed again when he noticed some weight on his chest and caught sight of pink tresses sprawled on it. He then realized that his wife was beside him, nestled in his arm with her head resting on his chest peacefully, and her arm just right above his torso. He smiled.

Waking up in a home with any loved ones, let alone waking up next to someone just like this, wasn't something Sasuke had been accustomed to ever since the slaughter of his entire clan. Yet, Sakura's presence beside him was an impactful reminder that he's not alone anymore unlike pretty much majority of his life. Just the fact that his former teammate and childhood lover is present in his life even after everything he had gone through brought a drastic change to his lifestyle as the "lone Uchiha survivor", for finally, there's someone that he could go home to, someone eagerly supporting him on his decisions, someone lovingly correcting him when he makes the wrong ones, someone comforting him in his physical and emotional pains, and someone with whom he could rebuild the Uchiha clan out of love with.

Staring at her, it dawned on him how all his loneliness for how many years due to the absence of a family had gone down the drain; and that truly, in her presence, there is fullness of joy that he has never experienced before.

Sasuke took the liberty of gently stroking his wife's pink locks, careful not to wake her up knowing that she had a tiresome shift in the hospital the night before. He rolled his eyes at the memory of hearing young girls bully Sakura about how weird her hair color was back when they were kids. Sure, having hair that rivals the color and beauty of Cherry Blossoms was peculiar, but to him, it was peculiar in a good way, just like how everything was suddenly extraordinary ever since Sakura came into his solitary life when they were genins in Team 7.

Furthermore, when he finally returned her feelings for him and eventually asked her to marry him, he learned to appreciate how all things were made new in this new life he's surrendered to. It's so much unlike what was usual in his life, yet it was as special as his wife's pink hair. For once, there was affirmation that he's always desired from his father, tenderness comparable with that of his mother, and relentless love he had never experienced since the death of his brother – all, and so much more, encompassed in just a single person. Even though he was robbed of the bliss of having a family for so many years, Sakura was the proof that one could start anew, and that a once pitch-black life could still be filled with all the colors of the spectrum.

Stirring in her sleep, Sakura tightened her embrace to her husband. Sasuke couldn't help but be amused. Even in his wife's sleep, the warmth of her touch was inevitable. Hers were the only close physical contacts he tolerated and eventually got used to since they were still genins. With his common reticence to people when they try to be close to him, it was kind of an unspoken rule that if you aren't Sakura, you have to back off.

Sasuke subsequently pulled his wife closer while a mental image of that time he had an unprecedented rampage due to his curse seal appeared in his mind. It was Sakura's sudden embrace to his uncontrollably enraged self that made his almost too frozen heart due to hatred and desire for revenge melt in place, slowly causing the curse mark to diminish in the process. With that bittersweet memory, he realized how her every touch affects him like a consuming fire that devours every negative thing inside him. And it was through it that he knew, although it was too impossible to believe back then, that he still had a tinge of hope for salvation because someone was willing to take his pain away from him even though she could be hurt in the process.

He had mixed emotions when he felt how his and Sakura's breathing seemed in sync while they were lying beside each other, one fully awake, and one still savoring her time in the dreamland. Feeling the rise and fall of his wife's chest reminded him of the fact that if Itachi didn't spare him when he had no other choice but to cause the bloodbath of their clan, he wouldn't even be breathing right now. There were times that he wished Itachi just finished him off as well so he didn't have to go through a depressing childhood that led to his agonizing journey for revenge – a journey that only filled him with bitterness, regrets, guilt, and shame in the end. It was kind of tempting for Sasuke to settle on the thought that he was better off dead just like the rest of his clan; still, somewhere at the back of his mind, he believed that there's a purpose why he was spared to continue living. It was a struggle to figure out what it was at first, but he eventually learned that this reason for living includes seeing his own family breathing and making sure that they are living a life away from any kind of danger.

His gaze then focused intently on Sakura as he continued to observe the subtle movement of her respiration. For a moment, the displeasing memory of him almost bringing her to the point of her last breathe through a technique their sensei taught him just so he could protect his comrades resurfaced in his mind. He sighed at the thought. It was one of those many things he had regretted in the past. And now, seeing how the fact that he's still alive despite the many opportunities he could've been dead has led him to Sakura, who eventually became his wife and the new matriarch of the Uchiha clan, caused him to fully understand how one's life should not be taken for granted. He knew that despite any circumstance in life, there's a purpose why we're still breathing and we should live for that.

"You've been staring."

Sasuke was too caught up in his trail of thoughts that the woman he was pondering about was already looking up at him without him realizing. "Hn. Good morning." He smirked, allowing his mismatched eyes to meet with her viridian ones.

"Good morning, Anata." Sakura tilted her head towards him and met his gaze again after a short yawn escaped her lips, voice still a bit hoarse from her deep sleep. "What are you thinking about?"

He fixed his soft gaze on her eyes before answering, "You."

Even until now, Sasuke couldn't fathom what exactly Sakura saw in him that made her fall in love with him ever since they were young. Those beautiful emerald eyes were the same ones that adored his handsome face, yet also saw through his awful flaws. He used to think that just like every other girl who used to throw themselves at him, Sakura would just see and appreciate his good side, but it amazes him how despite the fact that his dark side was pretty much exposed to her, she was there for him to care for him nevertheless. Before he left the Leaf for the first time, he found it hard to believe that what she had for him was more than just a mere crush. It was only after the war that he got to realize the truth in this – she genuinely loves him, even at the cost of her own life.

How could such eyes see him with love at his most unlovable state? How could such eyes see him with compassion when all that he carried and passed on throughout his younger years was hatred? How could such eyes see him with hope to still arrive to the best version of himself even after seeing his worst? Maybe he'll never know.

"Me? Why?" Sakura snuggled closer to him and smiled.

It's been years since she said "yes" and "I do" to him but her smile still has the tendency to make Sasuke's heart run a hundred miles. He was quite self-conscious with how she could possibly hear his heartbeat now considering how her head was on his chest. Nonetheless, he remembered how she smiled at him through the tears after that time he apologized for everything he had done to her while she was healing him after the war. It was through that sincere smile that he felt the forgiveness he knew he didn't deserve. It still blows his mind how someone he had hurt so much could smile at him like that, and how someone he had pushed away again and again could give him a welcoming and accepting smile every time he sees her. Forgiveness was something he didn't expect to receive after all the wrong deeds he has committed, yet, Sakura was the symbol of that undeserved favor he gained. Because of her, he knew he is loved, accepted, and forgiven. And he'll always be grateful for her.

He shook his head at all the assorted thoughts lingering in his mind on such an early morning. There's no doubt that the past couple of minutes had made him appreciate Sakura all the more. Realizing how there's so many inexplicable things about his wife that he couldn't completely describe into words, he beamed back at her and cupped her cheek.

"I'm just in awe of you, that's all." And then he inclined his head towards her for a kiss, only to be blocked by Sakura's palm on his face.

She had a horrified look on her face before she said, "I haven't brushed my teeth yet!"

Sasuke rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance. All the wonderful things aforementioned could describe his wife, but sometimes, she's still annoying. It's not like they haven't kissed the moment they woke up before. "Like I care."

"Okay! I'm just teasing you." Sakura giggled at her husband and soon allowed him to capture her lips.

While their lips were moving in sync, Sasuke pondered, If I didn't accept her love for me, and I didn't acknowledge my feelings for her, I guess I'd still be alone, empty, and stuck in the past while living without a purpose. Would that, however, be the kind of future I'd want myself to have? He chuckled inwardly. Definitely not.

He pulled away and stared at his wife once more as his two fingers planted a soft poke on her forehead. As much as he wanted to be home more than usual, he knew he could only treasure times like this whenever he's home and keep them etched in his memory while he's not around. Surely, he wouldn't trade waking up on mornings beside Sakura for anything in the world.

————

Hey guys! What struck you the most on this fic? Any favorite part? I’d love to know what you think on the comments below! :D

If y’all want more SS content, check out my other works here! I’d be very glad to receive any feedback from you guys :)

Also, if you like my fics, please consider supporting me on ko-fi and patreon. I’m preparing for a special trip to Japan this November - a month after my birthday - so any tip from you guys would be an appreciated gift! :) Aaaack! pray for me as I save up for this trip! <3 Thanks & God bless!

– A

#sasusaku #ssm19 #ssm19d22 #sasusaku fics #sasusaku fanfics #ss fiction #ss fanfics #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #sakura uchiha #mornings #ariannjfics

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roses-and-lovely-things · 7 years

Text

Fort-nine Years

@halfbreednight @illyrian-high-lord @readinglikewildfire @crazybossbitch1 @2-bookmaster-2 @lovemeinnercircle @lovelygirl-3 @micmac21 @myhighlordrhysand @alienathedreamer @kateflowrchild13

Thank you all so much for your comments and in return, I give you and everyone else who liked my last one, I give you all this.

She was in the gardens the day he returned to her.

Viviane floated through the gardens, a ghost among the icy flowers. That was all had been, a ghost, since he’d left. Moonlight thread pulled away from porcelain skin, curled and woven into a braided masterpiece of icy flowers, vines, and hair, the rest left to dance down her back, like a frozen waterfall against the snow white plains of her back. White chiffon sleeves patterned with crystal vines and flowers crept up her arms to grasp at her shoulder, but stopped its journey upon her skin there, instead deciding to go southward again, this time to merge with the more solid rayon and voyage the swell of her pearly white breasts and down her chest, tight, like if it clung tight enough to her, it could bar any danger from marring the smooth flesh beneath. But that is not your job, her mind sighed, that job belongs to him. The tight fabric protected her only past her rear, where it blossomed into an icy white cascades of chiffon and lace, surrounding their mistress, with ends that danced with the wind. The only whisper of color lie in the piercing aquamarine eyes that seemed to glow against their background. She lifted a slender moon kissed hand from her lap, to lightly drag it across the snow covered bench she’d chosen as her perch, leaving a blossoming swirl in its wake. As beautiful and fair as winter itself the servants would tell her each morning as they dressed her in white and wove jewels into her hair. Usually she would take it in stride, allow it to ignite the flames of confidence she’d need to survive the day and rule in her beloved’s place, just as she’d promised him that day forty nine years ago. But days had passed since the anniversary of that day, and with every day her hope was ebbed away by the unseen icy winds of despair. Forty nine years Tamlin was given to find her. The one who would free them from the mountain. But forty nine years and he still hasn’t come home. He still hasn’t come back to me, he promised he would. Ever since the anniversary of the curse, she demanded to be alone and came out here to wait. In this garden of snow carved archways and flowers of crystalline ice and white stone benches she’d wait, in this garden where they’d danced as children and dreamed as adults, dreamed of the world as it could be while they debated on everything and nothing under snowy days and clear nights where stars glimmered like snowflakes trapped in the unending sky. Viviane felt her right cheek warm as a tear spilled over and raced downward. Inside she felt like glass, splintering an breaking, but only in her solitude would she let it break, for as much as she wished she could wither away along with her hope, or cast herself into the fire that was Amarantha in order to join him. But no, I promised him I’d be strong and protect our people, I cannot fail him now. An icy wind brushed her face, whisking away her fallen tear and whispering her name in her ear. Viviane, oh my Viviane it whispered to her as it caressed her cheek. Her pale lips parted in shock, and her head turned to the right of its own accord, like a tether was pulling her toward it. There he was, standing atop the stairs of the entrance to the small garden, right under the snow carved archway, frozen. His snow white tresses slightly disheveled as he panted, out of breath. Only his thick white cloak billowed in the wind, the rest of him frozen in place, icy blue eyes glued to her form. Slowly, Viviane rose to her feet, unsure if her beloved Kallias was truly there or if her crumbling hope had fabricated him. Slowly she placed one foot in front of the other, afraid if she got too close then he would vanish in a gust of snow and wind. But when his lips broke out into a watery smile and shaky breath of relief, relief that she was there and she was safe and that Amarantha hadn’t touched her was what finally undid her. She felt the ends of her own lips curl into a smile and a small whimper escaped her parted lips just before she ran to him. Strong and sure arms already open wide to receive her she fell into the broad chest she hadn’t touched in forty nine years. Large arms crushed her to him so tightly she almost thought she thought she would become a part of him, and perhaps that was what he wanted, to hold her so close she couldn’t physically be parted from him, something she would not mind in the slightest. Her armed snaked around and ensnared his neck bringing his face down to allow her to crush her lips against his. Forty nine years she had been waiting, only imagining what it would feel like to kiss him, and the feeling was electrifying. While the rest of his body was like hard stone and chiseled out muscle, his lips were feather soft and warm as they sent electric currents through her nerves. Her knees began to buckle but before she had completely lost her ability to stand those large, protective arms had lifted her into the air as he swung her around, lips never parting with her own while snowflakes swirled around them in a silent praise that their master and mistress were once again together, once again whole. Once her feet were gently placed back onto the stone Kallias ripped his lips from hers and buried his face into her neck, body wracked with sobs. “You’re safe, you’re safe, thank the cauldron your safe.” He whispered over and over again. Tears of happiness and pure, unending love fell freely from her cheeks and froze into little diamonds in her lover’s hair. “You’ve finally returned to me.” Was all she could manage before closing her eyes and bursting into a laugh. At least she thought it was a laugh, or maybe they were sobs of relief, she couldn’t exactly say. “Marry me.” Kallias whispered into her hair. Viviane’s laughter froze and her eyes flung open. “What did you say?” She knew exactly what he had said, but she couldn’t believe it. Kallias pulled away from her and kneeled down into the snow, grasping both of her tiny hands in his much larger ones. “Marry me, Viviane. Today. Right now.” He asked her again with more love and hope in his eyes than stars in the night sky. Viviane wasn’t sure if her smile could grow any larger or if her body could contain any more joy than it held in this moment as she threw herself on top of him and with the High Lord of Winter gazing up at her, she finally gave him her answer. “Yes. A thousand times yes.” Kallias grinned and with one arm her wrapped it around the back of her neck to pull her down into another time stopping kiss. The Winter Court would officially have their Lady and the long years their lord had spent in unrequited love had finally come to an end.

#acowar #acomaf #acotar #a court of wings and ruin #kallias #viviane #kallias x viviane #feysand #nessian #winter court #high lord #feyre archeron #tamlin #elucien

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archergwenwrites · 7 years

Text

Rosewater and Hellfire (Part 2)

(A/N: Part One here)

“Who are you?”

“I am...a lover of music.”

She laughs like spring, and he feels his heart beat again. “But who are you? I can’t see your face.”

“I do not want to scare you.”

She had tried to peer over the cliff to look down at him, but he had faded into the shadows. This was one of the entrances to the Underworld, so much like on Olympus itself the shadows obeyed his commands. She saw naught a trace of him, but that only heightened her curiosity. Now she sat at the edge of the cliff, next to the asphodel she sang back to life, and dangled her feet over the edge as if into a pleasant lake.

“You are not a mortal, then,” she muses. “Are you a monster, that would seek to harm me?”

“No, no I am divine like you.”

Her exclamation of delight startles him. “Then you most certainly won’t hurt me, and you can show yourself. Please.”

“After another song?”

“You drive a hard bargain. But fine, I’ll sing.”

She sings of the seasons, their beauty and camaraderie, the joy in each one matching the joy in her voice. As she weaves magic in the air with her song, he sighs, letting himself fade from the shadows until he is clearly a dark shape leaning against the rocks.

Katara is, of course, leaning over the edge as she sings. She is a cheat when it suits her, and here there’s no real loser. Plus, it means the voice can hear her better.

She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. The emotion in his voice thickened his first plea, but with more conversation she was sure she recognized the voice. This is the man who has happily hunted her through her dreams. She does not let victory seep into her voice when she finally sees his face.

He is pale, she can tell that much even with shadows over half his face. He looks tall, even looking down, with broad shoulders and a pointed chin. She likes his face.

He looks up, and she’s caught, the song halting suddenly.

His eyes are gold, darkened by shadows and what is quite possibly desire. His eyes are gold with a fierce intensity that matches his strong jaw. His hair is dark, almost fading into the shadows, and the almost-scruffy cut softens the transition from his pale face to the dark wall.

Katara really likes his face.

“Hello.”

He swallows, as if he’s terrified of her, a springtime goddess. He’s sweet.

It’s her.

Her brown hair hangs down as she looks at him, and he knows in his dreams he’s pressed his face into those locks and breathed in the scent drifting towards him now. Her eyes are bluer than he thought possible, innocent in their mischief. His hands twitch to cup her face in his so he can memorize every line, but he stays where he is, glued to the world beneath her adorable feet.

“Hello,” he replies, and his heart keeps beating.

Katara still dreams of running, but now rather fancies getting caught - kisses to her neck, sweet nothings whispered in her ear.

It’s more chaste than she expected her whirlwind secret affair to be.

She still doesn’t know which god he is, though it would be easy to figure out. Instead, she’ll wait for him to reveal it. He probably thinks she’s more important than he is, and will be disappointed when she learns his name. That couldn’t be possible, but she can’t find a diplomatic way to say it, so she lets him steer the conversations. They discuss flowers at length, him providing ideas for her to try - new colors, new blossoms - while she instructs him in the care of asphodel, his favorite.

It never occurs to Katara to share this with someone. They can’t punish her, since they meet in their dreams, mostly, and it’s harmless anyway.

This is why when she dances home after one of their rare meetings by the cliff-side, she's surprised Kya is instinctively horrified to see her daughter.

Katara had wanted him to plait her hair, to join her on the upper part of the cliff and weave his flowers into her tresses. She wants to see his whole face in sunlight at once, not just halves - one obscured by shadows or her own hair.

He chuckled. "Alright, then, settle and I'll join you."

She sat cross-legged facing the cliff so he couldn't climb up and sneak, only for his presence to suddenly loom behind her.

"You used my shadow! Cheater."

"I'm just protecting your innocence," he replied lightly, fingers in her hair.

"Yes, because when I see you face I will be so overcome with ecstasy that there will be no possible way to call me a maiden any longer."

His hands stilled briefly before they began again in earnest. She thought he murmured, "not that kind of innocence." But he finished the braid, happily, weaving in more flowers with every twist of his hands. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, and she twisted around to press a kiss to his lips, eyes shut tight. Her hands drift to cup his face but he stills them on his neck.

So when Kya plucks a flower from behind Katara's ear, asking "where did you get these," the young goddess tamps down a blush and replies, "at the edge of a cliff. They're really beautiful, aren't they? I just had to wear them."

"Don't go back there, it's not safe. And take those flowers out quickly. Zeus has agreed to hear your petition, and he hates asphodel."

Arranging the blossoms on her vanity, Katara muses over the fact that her mother knew the name of a flower Katara had never seen before.

She puts those thoughts from her mind and twists her hair into a conservative bun, dressing in garments best suited for healing. She looks professional, serious, when she stands in Olympus for the first time in a long time, and before the throne. Zeus's smile is predatory, a shark running a school of fish to borrow Poseidon's griping to her mother.

"And why do you wish to take on herbal medicines in addition to your current duties?"

"Because, my lord Zeus, I will never turn my back on people who need me. Giving Aesculapius more freedom to develop more complex solutions for more complex problems will bring better good into the world. In addition, my skills in developing new flowers easily lends itself to the creation and cultivation of more herbal cures. I know the mortals will be grateful for their improved health as well as your wisdom in delegation of divine duties."

Zeus's smile grows. "Then I see no reason why you shouldn't develop those very skills. I will set aside a space here on Olympus for your training. I look forward to seeing how you grow." He raises an eyebrow. "Will you need traditional space for a consort in your living quarters?"

Katara tries not to be shocked at the assumption she will live on Olympus for her training, and wonders how her mother will react. She calmly replies, “I will not, but thank you for the offer.” A warning bell inside her begins to chime when a satisfied look crosses his face. “I will inform my mother of your decision then.”

“Do.”

Kya is not pleased. She immediately sends a lesser nymph to clean out her permanent rooms on Olympus. “I will not leave you alone here, not when your friends’ duties carry them away from you frequently.”

Katara is glad of it. When she’s not speaking with her mentor or mother, or catching up with friends, when she’s alone, she feels watched. Her dreams are different now. She no longer seems able to reach her nameless lover. Instead, she’s running again, but running in fear. She is hunted, and whatever is chasing her grows more excited as she eludes him, as her fear grows and as the chase continues.

She wakes up wanting to cry out for the man who loves asphodel, but without his name she just wakes breathless.

Herah begins to spend time with her as well, ostensibly to talk varieties of tea but she quickly learns he, too, is trying to keep the malicious shadow from her. She mentions going to Zeus about it, but Herah shakes his old head. “He is Lord of the Skies, of thunder and lightning. He can do nothing about shadows.”

She questions that, but not enough to go against Zeus’s elder brother. The factions and battle lines left over from the war against the Titans are still clear, it seems.

She doesn’t think Olympus will ever be free of them.

She starts to believe she’ll escape unharmed, until her training is almost finished and Suki wakes her up in the middle of the night.

“Hey, psst. We’re going on a quick adventure. For old time’s sake.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

“Okay, let me tell my mom-”

“No time. The secret will expire if we don’t go now. Besides, if everything goes right, we’ll be back before she notices you’re gone.”

Because she trusts Suki, Katara rises and follows the clever goddess of war - follows her to Hell.

#zutara #fanfiction #rosewater and hellfire #starting a tag for that au #zuko x katara #zuko #katara

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ariannjs · 5 years

Text

MORNINGS | A SasuSaku FanFic (One Shot)

The light seeping through the Venetian blinds caused Sasuke to slowly open his eyes. On most days, the sudden welcoming of the sun's heat and rays after a good night's rest would normally irritate him and give him a struggle to regain a good mood throughout the day. But today was one of those days that he's not on a longterm mission in any of the hidden villages. He's sleeping with the comfort of a mattress and not in a forest or a cave. He's in his safe place. He's in his home.

Staring at her, it dawned on him how all his loneliness for how many years due to the absence of a family had gone down the drain; and truly, in her presence, there is fullness of joy that he has never had before.

Sasuke subsequently pulled his wife closer while a mental image of that time he had an unprecedented rampage due to his curse seal appeared in his mind. It was Sakura's sudden embrace to his uncontrollably enraged self that made his almost too frozen heart due to hatred and desire for revenge melt in place, slowly causing the curse mark to diminish in the process. With that bittersweet memory, he realized how her every touch affects him like a consuming fire that devours every negative thing inside him. And it was through it that he knew, although it was quite too impossible to believe back then, that he still had a tinge of hope for salvation because someone was willing to take his pain away from him even though she could be hurt in the process.

"You've been staring."

"Good morning, Anata." Sakura tilted her head towards him and met his gaze again after a short yawn escaped her lips, voice still a bit hoarse from her deep sleep. "What are you thinking about?"

He fixed his soft gaze on her eyes before answering, "You."

How could such eyes see him with love at his most unlovable state? How could such eyes see him with compassion when all that he carried and passed on throughout his younger years was hatred? How could such eyes see him with hope to still arrive to a best version of himself even after seeing his worst? Maybe he'll never know.

"Me? Why?" Sakura snuggled closer to him and smiled.

"I'm just in awe of you, that's all." And then he inclined his head towards her for a kiss, only to be blocked by Sakura's palm on his face.

She had a horrified look on her face before she said, "I haven't brushed my teeth yet!"

"Okay! I'm just teasing you." Sakura giggled at her husband and soon allowed him to capture her lips.

————

Hey guys! What struck you the most in this entry? Reviews and comments are welcome! Like what I do? Please consider supporting me on ko-fi as I continue to write fictions and make song covers! A cup of coffee would be a big encouragement! :)

Thanks & God bless!

– A

🤗🌸

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