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tojigasm · 1 year

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I’m crossfaded right now but I need diff Jake x pregnant reader a combination and angst, fluff and smut I literally don’t care what it is please !! It will make the wake and bake hit

I'm so fuckin deranged. In so sorry for this. This is so evil. I went down an angsty route with this one. I wrote this to be a sequel to "Who am I to Love you"

It rots within him. A thorny, prickly weed burrowing itself in the thick of his mind. It pricks and prods at his thoughts, trickling down his spine in a sickly plague.

He bides the long days with time in the ocean. Learning the ways of the metkayina and spending time with his children. He's braiding seagrass when his mind crawls back to the metkayinas soul tree. The tree where he'd seen Neteyam soon after his death.

He wonders if you're there too.

"Daddy, you're not braiding it right." Tuk scolds from beside him, taking over the thick weed and finishing the fishtail with a knot at the end.

"Sorry, Tuk," Jake doesn't go to the tree.

—

"I know you're thinking of her." Neytiri speaks through a sigh, cutting pieces of fruit. She places her knife down to rest a hand on Jake's back.

"Thinking of who?" Jake hardly acknowledges her, finishing a thread of grass, cinching the dried weed into a fold.

"Dont–" Neytiri takes a sharp inhale through her nose. "Don't even."

Jake drops the padded grass to turn to her, "what?" He shrugs, "what do you want me to say?" He stands up to pace around the length of the hammock.

"My Jake," she speaks softly, massaging the skin of her arm in an attempt to comfort herself.

"You want me to go talk to her?" He points outward to the ocean, and Neytiri drops her head in defeat, braids swaying side to side. "You want me to go pour my heart out to my dead mate–

"Our." She chokes under her breath.

It's begin to rain.

"Y-you want me to attach myself to her again? Attach myself to the one thing that I can't come back from? If i go there, i won't leave." He shakes his head solemnly. "God only knows how hard it's been fr'me to not take a knife to my fuckin' throat." Jake's voice croaks and blubbers.

Neytiri looks up at him under her lashes. A deepened blue shadows her features, and her honey eyes run an amber heat to them. She stands up and meets him eye to eye.

Jake's crying.

"She was my mate too, Jake." There's a sickly hiss to the way his name is spit from her tongue. "Not just yours," her ears flatten back and her canines bear, "you suffer in silence, but I will not."

He watches her leave.

—

It's late past eclipse when Neytiri returns home. Wet footsteps make their way into the hammock and a breeze pulls him from his light sleep before she slots herself against his back.

Neytiri presses a kiss to the base of his neck, thumbing his braid gently.

"She misses you."

She knows he's awake. He knows that she knows. Even so, he doesn't say anything.

—

He waits along the surrounding rocks of the tree of souls for hours. Fiddling with sheets of rock and coral that spots the ground as though it were weeds.

He thinks about going back to the clan. Back to his children, back to his mate, and back to his home. And a part of him thinks back to the forest and the years before neytam had been born. He thinks back to you.

It's not a long swim to reach the sprouting limbs of the tree, making the bond with shaky hands.

There's a moment of darkness before the forest surrounds him. He walks through the heavy brush and thick plants, running the tips of his fingers over the small flowers that litter the forest. He remembers the flower crowns you'd made for him. He wishes that the petals would live forever. Instead, they rot away, trapped in a chest hidden within the hammock. They lost their color long ago.

"Jake?" Your voice calls to him near the pond, and he can see you as he rounds a thick tree.

"Hi, honey," he whispers. His voice is quiet and soft. He thinks he might cry.

You're glowing under the rays of sun that glitter along the forest floor. Capturing you in their wake and painting an almost infinite image of you.

You run to him, jumping into his arms so quickly he doesn't have time to react before the both of you fall to the floor. "I missed you!" You squeal through a giggle.

"Woah," Jake chuckles lightly, "missed you too, kid." He kisses your temple, wrapping his arms around you loosely as you laugh into his chest.

Rolling off of him with a giggle, you land on your back beside him, arms and legs outstretched through the thick blades of grass that tickle your thighs.

Jake props himself onto an elbow beside you, tracing over your soft features, taking in the glow of your excitement with a warm smile.

"I never see you anymore." You say, lifting a hand to trace your finger over the outline of a few clouds thay scatter the sky. "Are you mad at me?"

Jake physically recoils at your question, scoffing at the idea that you could ever do anything wrong, let alone lead him to be cross with you.

"No, I'm–I'm not mad at you," he follows it with a laugh, brows furrowing. He watches you roll to your side, meeting his eyes.

"Then why don't you see me?"

"It's not–"

"Neytiri comes to see me all the time. She's made bracelets with me, and she's so excited to have another baby!" You scrunch your nose in glee.

A lump crawls up Jake's throat and plants itself there. He nearly chokes on it.

"M'sure she is–"

"Do you not want another baby?"

The genuine innocence in your voice makes Jake want to scream. He wants to rip his hair out and bite his lips until they bleed and choke on his tongue and sit at the bottom of the shallow water until he just falls asleep there.

You don't know about Neyetam.

"Jake," you stroke the soft of his jaw softly, and his eyes fill with tears. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't even realize he's crying until you're cupping his face in your small hands.

"M'so scared, baby." Jake's voice shakes under the weight of his fear. It cracks, and it bubbles over.

You aren't quite sure what's happening, settling on pulling yourself closer to your mate, letting him hold you to him.

There's a long while of quiet, only filled by the soft strokes of Jake's hand along your stomach as he presses kisses to the back of your ear.

"Thinking of any names fr'the little squirt?" Jake asks, voice hoarse as he massages his thumb over your belly button.

You shake your head. "I was hoping you and Neytiri could figure something out. Maybe a mix of both of you guys' names?" You pull at your bottom lip.

Jake nods, eyes falling from your own to your lips. He kisses you gently, stroking a hand over your cheek and the other at your hip.

When you pull apart, he holds you in his lap again. "I like that idea," he offers, kissing your shoulder.

You nod, "what did you mean earlier?" You fiddle with your anklet, tracing the engrained 'J'.

"What do you mean?" Jake shrugs through a hum.

"When you said you were scared."

"Oh."

—

Jake tells you about Neteyam. He tells you about the metkayina. He tells you about the forest and the sky people and your ikran that still follows him around like a lost puppy.

He tells you about the ocean and the pretty talkun that come in waves and about Ronal and how the two of you'd be friends.

He tells you about how big Tuk's gotten and how much trouble Loak still causes. He tells you about Kiri and Eywa. He doesn't tell her about how Tuk braids exactly like you do, or how Kiri's picked up on your mannerisms, or the fact that Loak subconsciously still leaves extra pieces of food for you.

Jake sits with you for hours, letting you trickle and trace lines with the tips of your fingers over the stripes that litter his arms and ribs.

He lets you sing to him, and he hunts with you for the night.

And it's only when he's completely certain that you've fallen asleep that he pulls himself from the root of the tree.

He does so with a heaviness as he makes his way back to the clan. Back to the hammock and back to Neytiri and back to the rotted petals and braided flower crowns.

He knows you won't remember when he comes back to visit — if he comes back at all.

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar #dilf jake sully

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ultra-violet-heart · 2 months

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A 7th Time Loop Short Story (Episode 7, 2/18)

This is a canon short story written by Touko Amekawa herself! This was posted on 2/18/2024, a day before Episode 7 of 7th Time Loop aired, as a sort of commemorative side story of sorts.

PLEASE DON'T REPOST OR RE-UPLOAD THIS FAN TRANSLATION ANYWHERE.

Translation:

"You know, Prince Arnold, your black hair would look more beautiful if it's adorned by flowers!"

As she was seated on a bench in the corner of the Imperial Palace's garden, Rishe's eyes seemed to sparkle.

Arnold sat next to her and looked down at her in silence.

"What did you do just now?"

"I'm doing some official business: taking you, Prince Arnold, to the garden, as a health check. Your Highness has been quite busy with official duties."

"I'm not talking about that."

Arnold's hair was now adorned with tiny flowers here and there, as if they were hair ornaments.

"Why on earth are you decorating my hair with flowers?"

"Hehe."

Basking in the spring weather, Rishe replied to Arnold.

"I heard a lot of flowers bloom in this country. Since I am the future Crown Princess, I feel I should fully enjoy my future home country's specialties, no?"

"How does this relate to your enjoyment, then?"

Rishe pondered about Arnold's question.

(I'm sure he knows I'm pranking him. However, I wasn't able to have revenge for the chapel kiss...)

She stopped from saying this was payback for back then, but had a new idea instead.

"Isn't this a special game?"

She placed the largest coral-hued flower on Arnold's ear and smiled.

"I can't play the 'decorate-my-husband's-hair-with-flowers' game without my husband, of course!"

At that moment, Arnold cast down his eyes and sighed.

"If that's the case..."

His large hand gently caressed Rishe's hair. As she seemed startled by the touch, Arnold just said it was natural.

"Instead of a game, isn't it a husband's duty to remove petals from his wife's hair?"

"!!!"

As she touched her hair back in surprise, Arnold’s eyes narrowed, as if laughing at the sight. He then placed the petal he just removed on the tip of Rishe's nose.

"Ugh..."

Feeling somewhat defeated, Rishe picked up that petal and carefully stroked it with her fingers.

#7th time loop: the villainess enjoys a carefree life married to her worst enemy!#7th time loop #rishe irmgard weitzner #arnold hein #arnold x rishe #rishe x arnold #ルプなな #ループ7回目の悪役令嬢は、元敵国で自由気ままな花嫁生活を満喫する #touko amekawa #violet's potato translations

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atlaculture · 8 months

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Cultural Fashion: Earth King Kuei Pt. 1 - Head & Shoulders

The “Cultural Fashion” posts that no one asked for! ^_^

The Earth King’s design is inspired by the dress of Qing Dynasty emperors (1636–1912) in their royal portraits. Starting from the top: The hat worn is called a cháoguān (朝冠) in Mandarin, meaning “court hat”, and a mahala (ᠮᠠᡥᠠᠯᠠ ) in Manchu, meaning “morning crown”. This hat was only allowed to be worn by Qing emperors and members of the imperial family. The chaoguan came in two styles: one for cold weather (what the Earth King wears) and one for warm weather (pictured here).

Moving on to the neck, the little collar-cape is called a pī lǐng (披领), meaning “detachable collar”. This collar was worn by members of the imperial family, nobility, and court officials for formal occasions. The necklace is called a cháozhū (朝珠), meaning “court beads”. Traditionally, chaozhu were only allowed to be worn by Qing dynasty emperors, members of the imperial family, 1st through 5th rank imperial civil officials, and military officials above the 4th rank. The chaozhu of an emperor was typically composed of multiple valuable materials such as pearl, coral, amber, jade, and other precious stones. For animation purposes, the Earth King’s simplified chaozhu is composed exclusively of jade beads.

Fun Fact: Chaozhu were actually inspired by Tibetan prayer beads! However, they lost their religious connotation once they became adopted as court dress.

In Part 2, we’ll cover Earth King Kuei’s clothing and shoes.

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

#avatar #atla #Avatar The Last Airbender #earth kingdom #cultural fashion

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annawayne · 5 months

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I see that you're Ukrainian and I saw two arts with Ukrainian culture. Is there some meanings behind it, references? Could you please tell more? I love seeing artist drawing their culture. It's amazing

OH, anon! You have no idea how it made me happy to know you're curious about my country. And yes, there's a lot to tell, so thank you so much for asking!

I'll try to keep it as short as possible and not turn it into the lecture, so here we go!

So, I have two arts, featuring Ukrainian culture

So, all the jewelry here is traditional Ukrainian jewelry, and not just random. Important note: all Ukrainian culture is about the beauty of layers, in clothes, jewelry, literature, in art.

For example, this one from the left art is called dukach - a medallion, which is supplemented with additional jewelry elements, such as ribbons, bows etc. Annie wears a lion medallion, of course, as a reference to her surname.

Another element, under the dukach, the necklace with the half moons, is called zgrada. The base consists of crosses in two or three rows strung on a string or a dart, in the spaces between them there are tubes or spirals made of brass or copper. Well, the truth is that zgrada can be not only with crosses but also with other elements. Here are half moons that are a reference to another Ukrainian piece of jewelry, lunnitsa. It's a talisman ornament in the form of a crescent with the tips down. Lunnitsa was called to ensure the continuation of the family, it was endowed with the properties of a family talisman, capable of harmonizing the relationship of spouses. It was also believed that the talisman promotes restful sleep, drives away nightmares, and protects the owner from nighttime evil spirits.

Finally, the red necklace that we call namysto. The more layers of necklaces a woman had, the wealthier she was considered. Here Annie wears 10 (!) strings of the namysto, and it's not just a "cheap" gem, it's corals!

Now, about earrings!

Both Armin and Annie wear earrings, and it's the usual shape of the Ukrainian traditional earrings, but we have a small interesting detail here with Armin.

Actually, in both arts Armin is a Cossack - the Ukrainian warrior, who decided against all odds to fight for the independence of Ukraine. All of them were struggling in slavery (not really the "usual" form of slavery but more military like) and under other countries' protectorate, but if we put it VERY simply, they were fed up and started fighting for Ukraine and the freedom of their homeland. That's why they are usually called "people of a free spirit".

And Armin wears earrings in both of his ears and in Cossack culture - it's also the symbol of his status. So, if the Cossask wears it on his left ear - indicates that the Cossack was the only son of his mother; on the right — signals that the man is the last representative of his family; both have a sign that the Cossack is the only child of his parents. So, yeah! Only child Armin!

About the embroidery!

Each region of Ukraine has various embroidery techniques, starting from the color of the threads used and to the ornaments/motifs the shirt is adorned. Both Armin and Annie wear floral and geometry ornaments that are widely used in the central-north part of Ukraine such as the Poltava and Chernihiv regions. But also you can find similar ornaments in Kharkiv, Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, but all of them differ in colors and shapes.

Now, Annie's flower crown or wreath that we call vinok.

Usually, vinok is worn by girls and unmarried women, sometimes, even after marriage, women wear it, accompanied by a head shawl or kerchief. Flowers here aren't also random, but each of them symbolizes something: malva and peony - beauty, hope, the long lives and symbol of home, of Homeland; centaurea - simple and quiet life.

And ending it all, just want to add that the left art with the ornaments in the background - it's an imitation of one of the traditional Ukrainian ornaments that is widely used for the decoration of walls, plates, cups etc; and for the second one - Ukraine has a lot of sunflower fields, so that's landscape is very dear for me.

Thank you once again for asking, and I hope it was interesting!

#aruani #ukraine #ukrainian art #ukrainian culture #my art #art #digital art #illustration #attack on titan #armin arlert #shingeki no kyojin #annie leonhardt #annie leonhart #answered ask #ask #aruannie #арткозацтво #украрт

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poetthewriter · 1 year

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🔮Carnelian Trinkets🗝️

Vex!Scar x Reader

thank you to my 🪶feather anon for requesting this I'm sorry I accidentally deleted you're request but from what a remember you said you wanted a vex!Scar x reader where scar likes to give reader trinkets and little gifts because of his vex side! please enjoy and feel free to leave tips (p.s im not so proud of this story but I hope at least you guy like it<3)

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐬&𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬🌱🧄🌿

Scar had decided to go on a little adventure as he liked to call it but in Y/ns case it meant being left alone for a few days, it not like Y/n couldn't be by their self or that they constantly needed to be with Scar but tonight Y/n will be all alone with no date for the party.

A small gathering happens every so often in Hermitcraft where all the hermits get together and have a nice evening with drinks and treats for all, even though there's so many members as well as a few guests coming from their empires it feels right to give everyone a little thank you gift. pulling out tiny little boxes Y/n walks out of their house and into the mines, after hours and hours of mining and polishing a scatter of crystals lay on a table, from ruby to agate there is a set of handpicked personalized crystals for every guest.

Gold or silver, crown, necklace, bracelet, or ring, smooth or pointy. hundreds of decisions lay in front of Y/n but at the end of the day around 40 sets of jewelry are set in boxes to be given to the person there for.

Amber ear cuffs for Impulse, aquamarine and pink coral tiara for Queen Lizzie of the Ocean empire, golden peridot anklets for the one and only fae girl Gem, and a jasper pendent like amulet for the prince of the lost empire Joey.

The only thing that catches Y/ns eye is a carnelian ring with a engraving inside saying " I Love You, Dear " a little bit of disappointment hits them as they remember Scars absents but all they do is close the box and throw it in the basket.

________

The stars shine brightly around Scar as he walks down the paths of the Ender capital, people pass scar left and right from Endermen hybrids to Nether hybrids hes surrounded, some people stare at him and his vex features uncomfortably as others pass and don't bat an eye.

Markets and stalls are set up everywhere going from one to another nothings right, some potions and magical seeds end up in scars inventory but there's something hes looking for that he just cant figure out what it is until a small sparky shine catches his eye.

A flow of magic wisps through the air pulling scar in all he wanted was something personal to give Y/n so all he can do is hope this light can lead him to the perfect thing, slowly he steps over to the shine and a small chest of colorful crystals, rare buttons, and mini empty bottles sits Infront of him his eyes light up and his wings flutter at the big and small trinkets to give his partner.

walking back to the portal to the over world, end flowers, and little pieces of shiny metal litter the ground, more and more bobbles clutter into scar bag and cut his hand and he picks up sharp pieces. reaching into a different pocket for a bandage Scar communicator tumbles out of his bag a bright yellow message takes up the whole screen leaving his face shocked.

"GATHERING AT NINE HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON!"

---

Y/n stands there looking in the mirror at their fancy attire, their shoes click as they walk across their house grabbing the big basket full of little gift boxes, a load knock echos through their house slowly but surely Y/n walks the open the door but when they get their someone is already their waiting for them.

"SCAR!"

Y/n runs up the him, he pulls them into a soft hug slowly lowering to the ground.

"oh my god.. I am so sorry, I totally forgot about the party tonight I never meant to do that Y/n, I missed you so so much"

a small kiss opens Scars eyes Y/n just sits there with a goofy smile on their face as they tug on his arm standing up, Y/n yanks Scar to the table they rummage through the big weaved basket and pull out one box slowly opening it they hide it in there hands and slowly slide it on to scars ring finger, he looks at it for a few moments before Y/n asks him a question.

"Do you like it!" they say swinging side to side in excitement, Scar looks up at them and lifts them up with a huge smile on his face, giddy as heck he pulls Y/n in to a seat.

"I LOVE IT!! LOOK LOOK I HAVE STUFF FOR YOU AS WELL, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT" Scar pulls out the big box of little knobs and treats, if he was a dog his big golden retriever tail would be shaking faster then lightning and all Y/n could do is match his energy the trinkets doesn’t matter anymore as much as Y/n loved their partners little gift they were just exited to be with him.

Walking to the party scar runs off like a little child to grab sparkly nicknacks and give them back to Y/n and they just swing their basket excitedly like little red riding hood.

The vex boy rests at his lovers side as they enter the party with everyone. The night was long but the energy never died gifts were given, hugs were shared and the night ended of with cuddles in their warm comfy bed.

#hermitcraft x reader #goodtimeswithscar #goodtimeswithscar x reader #3rd life #mcyt x reader #Mcyt #<33333 #anon answered

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cal-a-bungaa · 8 months

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The Realm

The Realm Part 7 - Prince!Jake Kiszka

Synopsis: In the heat of danger, love will always conquer

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death and war, sexual acts and language, descriptions of child birth, swearing and violence. Fluff.

Enjoy (please don't throw things at me) and thank you to the amazing @capturethechaos for reading it over and to @writingcold for your wonderful commentary and help planning this series!!

__________

Jake POV

Jake had stepped foot in this room only once before, the night he agreed to become a married man. It was different from Josh’s- his war room. The walls here were decorated in different weapons that had been favored by the late king, no intricately stitched curtains hanging from the windows. It was bleak, cold and the sense of dread flooded his senses for what’s to come. He could tell how uncomfortable she was being in here; the way she stiffened after seeing the collected layer of dust across the table, dragging the tips of her fingers through it. Whether she liked it or not, she’d best get used to it- they’ll both be in here quite a lot until the enemy is defeated.

The sunsets rose hues beamed through the arched windows, dusting over her soft skin. Even as Jake stares at her in awe, he cannot help but think of the knife that dangles above her head in the shape of a crown. He even thinks of his brother- how Josh loved the color pink, always opting to sniff the coral tinted roses in his private garden. He’d always sneak them into Jake’s chambers though he was adamant of his distaste towards the sweet scented flowers. Now Jake looks back and wishes that he could rewind and have those damn flowers on his nightstand to fall asleep next to. Or even some to give to the woman before him. The rose bushes his brother hid from the groundskeeper have probably all wilted away by now, no longer having the proper care that they need.

She was silent by the window, taking in the rolling hills and tall mountains in the distance. The sky's color enhanced the lighter streaks in her hair and the color of her lips. He needed to keep her safe like he wished to with Josh, but now he is sure he will even if it costs him his own life. He would rather a sword pierce his heart than have it shatter all over again. Jake would rather cough up his own blood than to have his hands covered in others that he loves. He leans his hip into the hardwood, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re scared.” Jake says, taking in her figure. Her stiff shoulders, and the way her teeth chew into her bottom lip are dead giveaways of her fear.

He sees the way she immediately tries to fix her posture. “I am not.” Jake rolls his eyes.

Jake doesn’t say anything else, opting to approach her from behind. He sees her reflection in the glass, eyes so unsure of what’s to come and what will happen to either of them. It’s clear to him that she doesn’t want him to die, but she’s not ready to die herself. His fingertips run down the expanse of her arm, sending shivers down her spine at the contact.

“I am a feather disguised as steel…” Jake furrows his brows, confused on why she switched so suddenly. The queen before him has curled back in on herself to be the quiet princess she once was.

Jake takes hold of her wrist, spinning her towards him. She refuses to meet his eyes, succumbing to the thought that she is weak. He reaches out to slowly lift her chin. “You are steel, not even I can break through,” She shakes her head in disagreement, “Don’t do that. Do not doubt yourself. You are strong if you will yourself to be.”

She shakes his grip off, fuming at his words. “I am sick to death of hearing how strong I am.” The queen before him was fuming and he did not know how to calm her. He believed her to be strong regardless of what he had said in their heated moments. She was nothing close to being a feather.

If she wished to be a feather then so be it- Jake would take it upon himself to be the steel, but she can be her own if she only believed it so. He couldn’t do anything besides nod and remain silent, not wanting to push the topic. She turns back towards the window, promptly ignoring his remaining presence. The rose sky had darked to a purple, letting the stars shine through and the only light to illuminate the room being the flickering flames of melting candles. He wanted to assure her that she had that strength and bravery hidden within herself, she showed that side to him hours ago. Circling him with his own sword was strength in itself, it was a wonder to him how she could believe such a thing. Jake had placed both palms on the smooth wooden surface of the war table, letting his eyes fall over the map laid out. In the east corner of the map, a strange marking presented itself. Looking closer at it, the name of the landmark had been scratched out with ink. Possibly a fallen kingdom, abandoned fort or village, Jake is not sure. The map that Josh had laid out for the attack on Weria showed no such thing.

A knock rang through the ever so silent room, her council seconds later piling into the dreary room. It felt as if he was reliving the past. Except for the fact that his brother was not beside him and won’t be again. She’d stepped forward, taking her spot next to Jake. All eyes rested upon her with questions, doubt, and impatience. It angered the king by just their stares, if anyone dared speak a belittling word towards her, they’d be dead on the cold floor instantly.

She took another step forward, placing her palms on the table as well. “As you all have heard, there is a threat out there that wishes death upon the king and I,” She speaks unwavering. Her pinky stretches out, ever so lightly brushing against his own. “We must put an end to this newfound enemy before more damage to the realm can be done.”

Jake takes it upon himself to shift his hand closer to hers, pinkies now linked together for everyone to see. He coughs before speaking up, “I will be on the frontlines as that is what I know, I will fight to keep us safe.” he glances over to his queen, seeing a twitch in the corner of her mouth.

“Your majesties, if I may,” the councilman pauses, “how are we to know where this enemy lies? If we do not know, we cannot plan.”

Jake can tell a condescending tone as if he could see it, he’d grown up around it being a spare but for them to talk to her as such was not something he’d tolerate. “Send units out to scour the woods, search every abandoned building. We could even send parties to this area.” Jake points to the scribbled out lettering.

All eyes slightly widen at his suggestion. Panic and tension in the room quickly rises when she peels her hand from his. Jake quirks an eyebrow at her, confused on everything that is currently happening.

“Sir Jake, with all respect, we do not enter that area. It is a place of death and ruin.”

Her touch reappears on the small of his back. He can finally feel her touch through the thin linen drawstring shirt he changed to. Jake wants to return subtle touches, but is too far invested in why that particular area makes everyone spiral into a panic.

“And with all respect, that is our best option. There must be a reason as to why and how the enemy travels so silently to Weria.” Jake snaps back with a condescending tone of his own. If the councilman could without having his head removed or being thrown in the dungeons, he'd probably laugh at a spare and a queen directing them through a war.

For a moment Jake thinks he has defeated the council in their fight to reject that idea. “You do not know the land like we do, do not speak as if you do.”

Jake feels her nails sink into the skin of his back, a sign of her irritation. He has to swallow a groan at the pain, but also the shooting ropes of pleasure that travel to his cock.

“Councilman, you will not speak to your king as such. Mind your mouth.” your king. That has Jake acting out of reflex, reaching around her to place his hand on the small of back, dipping his hand a little too low in a room full of people.

Looking over at her, he finds her already searching for his eyes. There’s a daring look swirling within them, hypnotizing Jake into pushing it further. At her silent command, his hand slides down the curve of her ass, gripping it tightly- surely enough to leave little bruises. She was his queen even if in this lifetime they were not to be wed. He wanted to feel more of her- more of her touch, for her to feel more of his and to hear the angelic sounds she’d let out beneath him.

The councilmen all continued on about how that area was off limits and no one should dare enter unless they had a death wish. Jake could see the annoyance on her face, matching his own. “We will send men there and that is final. You best trust your king's word, next time will not be excused.” She threatens.

With a wave of her hand, they bow their heads and leave. Not a single one of them agreed, but didn’t argue after their queen spoke against them. Jake squeezes the flesh of her ass once more before removing his hand from her all together. He takes steps away from her, examining her as she stands agitated before him because of this war and because he neglects her of what she wants.

She stares him down, no longer wanting to be the first to make such a daring move. She wanted him to show her how he needed her to want him. But Jake wasn’t going to give it to her so easily.

“Let me show you to your chambers, my queen.” he shoots her a sly grin, lending out his hand for her to take.

The queen squints her eyes, huffing out a breath. “I think I’ll stay here awhile, thank you.” Jake’s grin grows hearing how disheartened she is at what she takes is his rejection of her.

“Would you rather me ravish you here?” He cocks his head at her.

A blush spread across her cheeks. Even after clearing her throat, her voice still cracks, “Perhaps I would.”

Jake steps towards her, not yet wanting to be too close to her as he’d give in to his desires. He wanted to make it last- wanted to look at her- to see all of those gorgeous expressions she’ll make when he does touch her.

“Then tell me what you’d like for me to do.”

She wets her lips, “Love me.”

Jake couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to. In quick strides he wrapped himself around her, letting his heart lead him to the one thing it now called home. His hands encased her cheeks, pushing his lips to hers. Her hands tangle themselves in the fabric of his loose shirt that hides little to the imagination. Jake’s tongue swipes against her bottom lip, wanting to taste more of her. She quickly responds, taking a taste for herself too. Both of them devour each other, taking in everything the other has to give- an outpour of their love.

“Jake… please.” she whispers against his lips, slick with her saliva.

He parts from her, seeing the desperation and need in her eyes. He travels on hand from her face to rest on her waist. “You are a queen, do not beg, my love.”

She takes that in, letting it sink in her mind that she has the power over him body and soul. She fully parts from him, lifting herself onto the surface of the table. Jake watches her in awe, seeing how disheveled she is by just sharing a kiss. She no longer simply wants him, she needs him. His queen teases him, spreading her legs and ever so slowly lifting the hem of her dress to reveal her perfect legs. A few bruises paint her skin, he is sure from the night she spoke about when the cut on her neck was made.

Jake wishes she would hurry and reveal herself to him, but he appreciates getting to view every little part there is to her. Once she pulls the dress to her thighs, the king sinks to his knees- a forbidden act upon royals. No man or woman that dons a crown may sink to their knees before anyone- not even another royal. Jake would break that absurd law as many times as she would let him.

His palms smooth over the expanse of her legs, from her calves to her plush thighs. Their final destination are her knees, slightly pushing them apart for him to fit between them. Jake stares into her lustful eyes, giving the inside of her knee a kiss, letting his tongue peak out to wet her skin. He can see the rise and fall of her chest- the way she is trying to not fall apart at the simplest of things.

Jake rests his head on her thigh, letting himself appreciate the woman that towered over him. “If only you could see what I see- you are so beautiful.”

“I’m quite happy with my view.” She flashes him that smile that he hasn’t seen in far too long. A genuine smile, one that radiates light like his brothers.

The king lets himself smile back at her, rising back to his feet. Jake feels his desires running wild, needing to calm them down by backing away from what’s tempting him most. Meeting at eye level again, he leans his forehead into hers. His breathing is uneven as is hers. Jake’s eyes close and lifts his head to press a feathery light kiss to the crown of her head.

“I will not take what is yours from you just yet.”

With that, Jake separates himself from her completely. He watches the way she becomes aware of what he’s said and the shyness he knew hadn’t left her return. She awkwardly shuffles around, fixing herself to look presentable. Dare he say it was quite adorable watching her frantically fix her dress and hair to make it look like treasonous acts hadn’t just taken place in here. New wrinkles had formed in the fabric of her gown and strands of her hair poked out in odd directions.

“In time, love. I simply wish to give you all of my love before my cock.” The queen's eyes widened in horror at his vulgarity. Her face turned beet red in embarrassment. Jake chuckled.

“Jacob! You mustn't speak like that!” She whisper-yells at him as if anyone was truly listening in on their conversation.

He releases a belly laugh at her reaction, she truly was so pure. It was as if she wasn’t just hiking up her skirts to reveal herself to him, begging for him to ravish her right on that table. There was still so much to learn about her and he was excited to take this ride with her.

Jake coughs, letting himself calm down from his fit of laughter. “Let me take you to your chambers.”

She doesn’t respond, still embarrassed. The beautiful girl turns her back and makes her way to the doors that lead to the darkened hallway lined with guards.

_____

You wanted him to take what was yours. The real battle was coming soon and if Jake was to be on the front lines, who knew if he’d make it back to you. You’re scared that you will live the rest of your life without knowing him. You’re more than aware that there is much to make up for before that point, but the way you were testing each other in the war room had you worked up in a way you’d never felt before meeting Jake.

His footsteps echoed your own, but you were far too sheepish to look back at him. You wanted his hand in yours, but without having to ask him brought on a new problem. Jake was watching you, you could feel his eyes burning holes through your dress as you walked. His stare reignited that fire within your core without having to turn back. Just his presence alone was a safety net, one you could fall into and be swallowed whole. You were sure Jake could see the way you clench your fists, bunching up the ruined fabric of your dress. His sole being is enough to have your knees shaking and heart drumming against your chest- he doesn’t have to say a word or lay a single finger upon your skin.

Guards follow five steps behind Jake, ensuring your safety and his. The amount of guards with you at all times has now been upped by the demand of the king himself, putting his men to work at protecting you. It is not long before the door of your chambers comes into your line of sight. What lurked behind the doors still had you petrified- unable to step one foot in without wanting to search every crevice of the room. Rats lay low, they stay hidden away from the naked eye. You did not want them to reappear and this time have a fatal victory.

You hesitate to grab the handle to open the doors, not wanting to see what waits for you inside. Slowly you turn your head back to look at Jake who seems more or less unbothered, unaware of your uneasiness. But his actions tell you otherwise, his simple nod for you to open the doors is reassuring. You knew with him around, nothing would harm you.

The dark room was coated with a sweet scent of roses, the one you found so comforting once upon a time. The moon's light shines ever so brightly through the windows. Your box of memories remains open on the floor, its contents scattered around it. If Jake were to see you’ve kept such ridiculous items, he’d laugh and taunt you for ages. But in the moment you could care less, you needed him with you more than ever.

You shook your head back at him, speaking to him in silence that you could not enter. “Please stay for the night.” you whisper.

The corners of his lips turn upwards. “And what would the councilmen think of you inviting me into your chambers?” Jake jests. You knew it was him poking fun, trying to lighten your heavy heart but you simply needed him to watch over you in the night.

“Jake, I’m not strong- I’m afraid.”

His warmth washes over you, allowing some of your unease to dissipate. “I will not let you be harmed,” His tone has softened greatly. Jake’s hand finds its place on the small of your back, gently ushering you into the room. “I will stay.”

You knew of the rumors that would spread from this, but that is beyond you. As long as you could safely sleep beside the one you wanted most, you’d deal with anything thrown at the two of you. Jake guides you into the darkened room, making haste to shut the door behind him and lighting the candles on your bedside table.

There’s be many times in the past that you have shared a bed with Jake, but tonight felt different. The two of you have been through so much that it almost felt wrong at this time to even consider reliving these moments. You watched him pace around the room, finding the different sources of light so the dark could not cause any more damage to your mind. It felt so domestic to have him this way. It felt too real- too soon and too calm.

As Jake goes to light the last candle on its stand, he looks back over his shoulder at you. “You’ll be uncomfortable sleeping in that.” He looks you up and down.

For the umpteenth time that night a blush rises to your cheeks. He was right of course, but to change before him when he has never seen your body was another challenge that you thought you were ready to face. Bravery was not something you held within you, it was a mere act for people to not look down upon your ruling. Jake didn’t bother turning back to the melted candle, keeping his focus on you.

“Look away then.” and he does as you wish.

You reach behind you to untie the corset that secured the dress to your body. Unable to reach the ribbon that lies between your shoulder blades. You huff in annoyance, succumbing to the fact that you will need help to be released from the imprisonment you forced yourself into.

“Help, please…” you say in a hushed tone.

It’s as if he were waiting for you to ask for his assistance, whipping around to grab the ribbon and pull it from its knot slowly. His fingertips brush against the skin of your back with each loosening of each crossover. What felt like forever was just a few seconds, he quickly but smoothly made work of the corset. When it was fully undone, the sleeves of your dress dropped, revealing your bare shoulders to him and the crisp night air.

Before leaving you to strip bare and change, Jake plants a wet kiss on each of your shoulders. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest at his affections. Though he was in your room with you was familiar, there was a shift in the air- something more heartfelt and heavy. Once you feel his gaze leave you, you drop your dress to pool at your feet on the bear skin rug. You step out of the melted fabric and out of the painful heels you donned all day. Your nightgown rested on the back of your desk chair. You slipped it over quickly, afraid of what would happen if Jake were to see you in such a scandalous state- not that he hadn’t earlier, but now would be the time something more was going to happen if it were.

The small mirror on your desk showed your reflection in it, the way you wore such a remarkable staple on your head while being in a place that you could not hold onto it too tightly without cutting through your palms. You watch it be removed from your body to rest on the grainy old wood, not the best place for it to go but it wasn’t very precious to you. You see the way your styled locks roll down to their rightful place. Being like this made you feel normaal, like a kingdom didn’t lay its lives upon you. You’d wondered if Jake felt the same being in the same position or if it had truly sunk in for him yet.

“Quit judging yourself, you’re beautiful,” Jake’s voice startles you, having forgotten he was even in the same room. “Come to bed.”

What you would give to hear those words for the remainder of your days was above you. He made it sound like heaven to lay beside him every night and fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing. On a normal night you’d let the handmaids brush through your hair and scrub you down, but tonight you couldn’t be bothered to look perfect. You wanted him to see you and only you. The real you.

The way he laid so contently in your bed gave you hope in how this could be your view for eternity. His arms were crossed behind his head, one leg propped up on the other. He looked gorgeous. It’s one of the few times you’ve seen him fully relaxed. His gaze follows you as you approach the opposite side of the bed. You go to lift the layers of blankets only to be beaten to it, Jake peels them back for you. Slithering into bed, he shifts to his side, hand holding his head up and the other reaching to smooth your wild hair.

No other words are said that night, you can see his lips moving but cannot make out what he’s saying. Your eyes grow heavy and eventually everything around you fades to black.

_____

You stand in the long hallway of your home, the one that leads to your mother and fathers chambers. Loud painful cries erupt from behind the closed doors. You can see the uneasiness in the guards standing watch and in the castle staff that are gathered outside the room. In the distance, you can recognise the voices from inside the room- you mother and your father, speaking to one another. One was panicked and the other calming and reassuring. Groans of pain come from one of them.

In a state of panic you race towards the room, shoving those who block your path out of your way. You go to push the doors open only to find you fall right through them. On your hands and knees, you look up to see a terrifying scene. Your mother laid on the grand bed, face as a white as a ghost in a pool of blood with sweat shining on her forehead. Your father held one of her hands in both of his to his mouth, his eyes told you that he was scared.

Doctors and nurses stood at the foot of the bed between your mothers legs, giving her signs of when she should start again. To your horror, your mothers screams come again but louder now that you have a front row seat to this gruesome scene. Her body lifts from the pile of pillows that held her weight, squeezing the life from your fathers hand.

Eventually it all went silent for a moment. A moment of fear washed over all of their faces. The doctor held something you could not see. Your mother had started to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks as she buried her face in your fathers chest. Even his eyes turned red, fearing the worst. But then a shrill cry filled the silent room.

“It’s a boy your majesties!”

A commotion happens and you see that eventually your mother takes hold of the babe, cradling him in her arms. She looked at him with such adoration. She used to look at you that same way.

“Well, hello there Prince Daniel.” The first born son of Weria and the first of his name.

__________

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vandaliatraveler · 2 years

Photo

Tibbs Run Preserve, Panel 1 of 3. Beneath the moist dripping vaults of the primeval green cathedral gather the true believers: moss, fungi, and ferns. The old hemlock forest ministers silently, relentlessly to its devoted congregation, heathens and pagans all, and adorns the ruins of its trespassers in moss and rhododendron. None but nature shall endure.

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kingofsummer93 · 1 year

Text

Into the Water

Summary:

On the morning of her eighteenth birthday Elain wakes with a taste for blood.

Her task is simple. She must take a man's heart, while it still beats in his chest.

Unfortunately for her, Lucien doesn't plan on going down without a fight.

Part 1/2 Read it on Ao3

Elain woke on the morning of her eighteenth birthday with a taste for blood.

She stretched her arms overhead, flexing her webbed fingers. This was it. This was the day she’d been preparing for her whole life. All those countless hours of training and lessons- it had all been for this.

Today she would take her first heart. And after she presented it to her mother, the Ocean Queen, she would become a full-fledged member of the court. She could go where she liked, without asking for permission or with guards trailing her, or any of that silly nonsense.

Elain could finally travel to every corner of the seas she had only ever heard of or read about in books. And beyond that, to every dark corner that waited to be discovered. She could even go on land if she liked, with nobody to judge or sneer at the sight of her legs.

The sirens’ human form was considered an abomination. Exposing your legs was shameful- dirty, like the humans who bore them. They were meant as a tool for survival only, and were only to be used in dire situations.

But Elain had always had a fascination with them, despite herself. To her they represented freedom- true freedom. With them she could go anywhere she liked. And the only thing standing between her and that freedom was a single human heart.

The rules were simple. On the day of their eighteenth birthday every siren went through the Great Rite. They set out into the depths on their own, and were only allowed to return if they bore a human heart in their hands. The heart had to come from a male, and ideally one of status and rank. Upon presenting the heart to the Queen, they were free to wander the seas as they liked.

It wasn’t that Elain particularly liked the idea of killing a man, especially one with a valiant heart. On the contrary, if she was honest with herself the idea of it made her slightly queasy. But had no other choice.

Failing to complete the Great Rite had dire consequences. Sirens who came back without a heart became known as Lessers. They had no rights of their own, and were little more than property of the crown. Most became servants of some sort- maids, tutors. The more beautiful ones, however, were used as breeding stock. If Elain failed the task today she had no doubt which fate awaited her, and the idea of it was so terrifying that it overshadowed her dislike of violence. She’d bring back ten hearts before accepting that fate.

She flexed her fingers again, this time releasing the sharp claws from her fingertips. They were as clear as glass and as sharp as diamonds. Sharp enough to tear into a man’s chest and rip out his heart.

Elain lifted her forefinger to her mouth, dragging the tip of her claw lightly along her tongue. It was so sharp that the coppery taste of blood immediately filled her mouth. That was the taste of freedom. One measly human life in exchange for a lifetime of living on her own terms.

She sat up on her sand bed, perching on the edge of the coral frame. With a quick glance at her closed bedroom door she swished her tail. Her scales were pearly white, dotted here and there with red and gold that twinkled like gems when she swam. It was unusual coloring for her bloodline- a fact that her mother never failed to remind her of. Her sister Nesta had a purely silver tail, while Feyre’s was midnight blue. Both of them pure in color, as was the norm for the royal bloodline.

Elain didn’t mind. She liked it, even. Something about the colors reminded her of the blinding, prismatic sunshine that filtered in through the water when she swam near the surface. It reminded her of land, and the feel of that sunshine on her face and shoulders. That was the best part of being on land- the warmth of the sun, and the coolness of a breeze ruffling her hair. The salty spray of the ocean filling her nostrils.

Everything on the surface was more. Louder, more colorful, more scented. Different. More. Elain wanted more.

Under the sea everything was the same. Everything was tinged slightly green, and it was always cold. Her sisters relished the cold, and the dark, but more than anything Elain craved warmth and light. She would never admit it out loud- it would be considered akin to treason to do so. But once she passed her initiation she planned to travel south, where the waters ran warm. She had a sudden vision of herself lying on a warm beach, letting the heat of the sand warm her cool scales.

Elain glanced at the door again, listening for any sounds from the hall. When all she heard was silence she swished her tail again. There was a flash of white light tinged with gold, and a familiar burning sensation. When the light dimmed two legs stretched out in front of her, where her tail had been a minute ago.

Her legs were alabaster white, like the rest of her. But unlike her arms and torso, the skin was interspersed with patches of scales, marking her as not quite human. Elain wiggled her toes and kicked her feet, reveling in the feel of the cool water against her skin. It felt sinful, somehow. Decadent in a way that would have earned her a punishment if she ever said it out loud.

She ran her hands down her thighs, shivering at the sensation. Her scales were smooth and cool, but the skin was warm. Warmer than they should have been given that the blood in her veins was dark as night and just as cold. Her fingers drifted back up, and then higher still, to the place where her legs met.

This was the part that intrigued Elain the most about her legs. The soft, petal pink folds of flesh, the sensitive nub in the center, all out in the open. Even the thatch of golden curly hairs was fascinating to her. She’d figured out long ago that if she touched herself there she would feel pleasure. Delicious, sinful pleasure.

Pleasure was a foreign concept in her world. Sirens bred out of necessity, and doing so was a service to the crown. Human concepts of love and family had no place for the cold depths of the ocean.

A peal of laughter from the hall caught her attention, and with another burst of light her legs formed back into her fin. She was schooling her features into a look of nonchalance when the circular door to her bedroom opened and her sisters burst in, bringing with them a current of cold water. Elain tried not to shiver visibly.

“There she is!”

“Happy birthday!”

Elain smiled and returned her sisters’ embraces, her heart still racing from almost getting caught with her legs on display. On this day, of all days. There would have been hell to pay.

“I wish it was my turn already,” Feyre sighed.

“Just two more years, that’s no time at all!” Elain said encouragingly, squeezing her sister’s hand. “And then just think, you can come travel with me! We’d have fun together, wouldn’t we?”

Nesta’s shoulders sagged a little, and Elain immediately felt a pang of guilt. As heir to the throne Nesta didn’t have the same freedom as she and Feyre did. Her sister’s place was at court, learning the intricate business of ruling the seas. Anytime she wanted to venture away from their mother’s underwater palace she had to do so accompanied by her royal guard.

Elain and Feyre, as the younger siblings, were given a longer leash to do as they pleased, as long as their behavior was considered appropriate for the royal bloodline.

Or as long as they didn’t get caught doing anything they shouldn’t have been doing.

“Sorry Nes…” Elain said apologetically.

Nesta brushed away her apology. “You’ll have to complete the Rite before you think of going anywhere.” She gave a flick of her fin. It glittered in the murky water, like polished steel. “I remember my first so well. His name was Tomas. Oh how he screamed so pathetically!” She smiled at the memory, her eyes glittering with glee.

Her sister had taken many hearts since her own rite, but according to her, of all the hearts buried underneath her bed, the first would always remain her most precious.

Elain felt a thrill of excitement. It was her turn now. She wondered about the man whose heart she would take. What would he look like? Would he scream as loudly as Tomas had?

“Are you ready?” Feyre asked.

Elain grinned. She was.

---

Her mother’s throne room was full of all manners of sea creatures, all eager to catch a glimpse of the princess on her way to perform the Rite. Sirens and guards filled the front rows, with the Lessers relegated to the back.

The queen herself was seated on her throne, assessing the scene with her usual cool indifference. Her royal guards were floating next to her, holding their sharp tridents in muscled arms. They had the lower body of seahorses, the torso of men, and the sneer of predators. Instead of a single tail fin, the Ocean Queen’s torso led to dozens of tentacles that spread around her like shadows. It was a result of the magic she weld- she was as bound to the ocean as it was to her. The Queen did not have human legs, and even if she did she would never have lowered herself to the point of stepping on land.

Elain swam towards her mother and bent at the waist in a bow, lowering her eyes to the crushed-seashell floor. When she lifted her head her mother’s gaze racked over her from head to fin with barely suppressed disdain. A familiar feeling of shame and inadequacy made her stomach squirm. Still, she forced herself to lift her chin and meet that assessing gaze.

Elain had fussed over her appearance for this day, and looking at herself in her bedroom she had thought she looked particularly lovely. Her hair had been brushed until it floated around her like a cloud of silk, and her favorite pearl earrings sparkled from her ears. She had tied on her favorite shell bra over her chest- from far they appeared pure white, but from up close there were tiny veins of red and gold running through the surface, like the scales on her tail. But under her mother’s gaze she suddenly felt like she was covered in mud.

“Daughter,” the Queen drawled, “the time has come for you to perform the Great Rite and prove your worth to this court.”

An excited murmur rippled through the crowd, tinged with the faint sound of muffled laughter. Instead of admonishing them her mother only grinned in wicked delight.

It was no great secret that the Queen did not deem her second daughter worthy of her royal title, nor did she think her capable of performing the Rite. Elain had always been too gentle, too kind, too hesitant when faced with the cruelty and violence that ruled this court. But she was beautiful, and that, whatever her other shortcomings, had value.

Elain gritted her teeth as the Queen blessed her with the Mother’s prayer. No doubt she considered this a waste of her breath.

She would show them. She would show them that she was more than just a beautiful face and breeding potential. The Queen and her court might think her inadequate but she was as capable as the rest of them.

Elain let her outrage simmer inside her until it felt like fire ran through her veins. She could already hear the screams of her victim ringing in her ears.

She’d make him scream, and then she’d make them all regret ever doubting her.

---

Lucien woke with a jolt.

At first he couldn’t figure out what had woken him. They couldn’t have arrived in Adriata yet- they were at least half a day’s journey away, even with favorable winds.

His cabin was dark, as was the night sky visible outside the porthole near his head. The sea was calm, the soft rocking of the waves gentle enough that he was tempted to simply roll over and fall asleep again. He removed the wax earplugs from his ears (he was a notoriously light sleeper and a pirate’s crew was not known for being quiet) but all was silent. No screaming, no fighting, nobody yelling for the captain to wake up.

His eyelids had barely started drooping when he felt it again. Something was wrong. He felt it viscerally- like a tug on a rib, jerking him to attention.

It was too quiet. Silence like this on his ship was unnatural, hence the need for earplugs. On any given night he should have been able to hear muffled laughter and mild revelry at the very least.

Lucien rubbed the sleep from his good eye and peered out the porthole again. All he saw was a blurry mist, with a weak light of dawn trying to pierce through the dark. He rubbed his mechanical eye this time, but everything outside remained veiled in mist.

This was wrong. Adriata was in the south, and was known for its calm waters and mild weather. A land of permanent summer. A sailor’s true paradise.

The mist outside was so dense that it seemed to seep straight through the hull of the ship and into his very bones. A chill went through him. Wherever they were, it was nowhere near Adriata.

Lucien pinched his nose and grumbled irritably. This was what he got for hiring a rag-tag band of exiles and misfits for a crew.

No matter. Whichever idiot was responsible for this would walk the plank as an example, and whoever didn’t fall in line would get traded in once they reached their destination.

Something in his peripheral vision made him sit up straight, his stomach lurching violently. A jagged, rocky cliff, jutting out of the ocean mere inches from his window. And beyond that- dozens more, stretching around them like some kind of underwater tombstones. For a moment shock and terror rendered Lucien completely immobile. They weren’t just hours off-course, as he had initially thought.

They were sailing directly through Death Valley.

Few ships that ever sailed in this area ever came out of it alive to tell the tale. According to the stories the waters leading up to the barren island were gentle enough to lull even the most experienced of sailors into a sense of security. But soon the thick mist would settle over your ship like a cloak, so dense that at first the obstacle course of crags wouldn’t be visible until it was too late. If somehow a ship managed to not crash on its way towards the coast, the island’s shore was so uneven and inhospitable that there would be nowhere for that ship to dock.

Lucien had never been anywhere near it, nor did he know anyone who had. Its exact location was a subject of such debate by those who claimed to have seen it that it had become mostly a thing of legend. Wild stories spread like wildfire regarding the island itself and the people (or creatures, in some cases) that lived there.

The most popular of these was that the treacherous island was a hunting ground for sirens. It was said that the unfortunate souls who ventured this way had been lured in by their songs, and that those who didn’t drown or otherwise perish in shipwreck were faced with a much crueler fate. It was madness, of course. The stuff of children’s books. But then again, before today Lucien would have thought that the whole island was simply a legend.

How had they gotten here? And more importantly, how were they going to get out of here alive?

He bolted out of bed, grabbing his sword on his way out of the cabin. It was a thing of beauty, with a hilt encrusted in rubies so large that just one could have fed his entire crew for a month. He had stolen it from his father’s armory when he’d escaped from the tyranny of his court. It served both as a reminder of the freedom he’d won, and what he stood to lose if that freedom was taken from him. Lucien had always assumed he would die at sea, but he hadn’t survived this long, and at such costs, only to die because some rookie sailor had veered them off course.

He could already picture himself in a tavern, telling his tale to an enraptured audience once they reached Adriata. He’d have his pick of men to form a new crew, and women would fall on his lap. Maybe word of it would even reach his hateful family. How he’d love to be present to watch the sneer disappear off his father’s face when word of his errant son’s heroics reached him.

The sleeping quarters were eerily quiet as Lucien hurried up to the top deck. Too quiet.

The ship gave a sudden almighty lurch, followed by the ear-splitting sound of wood against stone. Lucien was thrown to the floor, all thoughts of heroism now replaced by gut-wrenching fear. The Loyal Storm had survived its share of battles and storms, but would it survive this?

Still nobody shouted. Wrong. This was all wrong. Where was everybody? Why was nobody panicking? Lucien grabbed the wall for support as he crawled up into the dense mist outside. It was so thick he could barely see a few feet in front of him.

“Jurian! JURIAN!”

There was no sign of his first mate anywhere. Usually he’d be the first one on the scene, wrangling the crew back into shape. If there was one person in this crew he could trust it was him. This ship was as much his as it was Lucien’s.

So where the fuck was he?

The ship lurched again, so violently that Lucien fell flat to his face and started sliding towards the tilting hull. He barely managed to grab onto an armful of rope before sliding to his death, and he held on desperately until the deck righted itself again with another lurch.

The light of dawn was fighting its way through the mist, and shapes were starting to appear around Lucien. He had to rub his eyes again to make sure he was seeing correctly.

His men were jumping overboard. Some were half hanging over the side, as if reaching for something, while others were flat-out climbing overboard and jumping into the water. Lucien ran for the nearest sailor and yanked him back onto the deck by his shoes.

“What do you think you’re-”

The look on the boy’s face made Lucien stumble away in shock. His eyes were glazed, unseeing. As if he’d been bewitched. The boy didn’t even acknowledge him before jumping back to his feet and stumbling towards the edge again, hands outstretched.

“Mate! Sink me, what is going on?”

A sick feeling of dread was starting to fight with his good sense. The stories couldn’t possibly be true. There were no such things as sirens. These scallywags must have gotten mind-numbingly drunk and were now hallucinating.

The mist parted for a moment, giving him an uninterrupted view of the head of the ship. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Jurian was climbing onto the ship’s figure head, a giant eagle with its wings outstretched. His first mate was hanging on for dear life, but one more wave and he’d been falling to his death.

“JURIAN!”

Something was terribly wrong. Had they all been poisoned? Jurian might be hot-headed but he was never reckless. He’d sworn an oath to protect the Loyal Storm and its captain. He would never purposely have put Lucien in danger.

Feeling supremely idiotic, Lucien reached into his pocket for his earplugs. It couldn’t be- there must be another explanation. Still, he stuck the cloth-wrapped wax into his ears before breaking into a run towards his first mate.

“JURIAN! GET DOWN!”

His friend did not even remotely react as Lucien’s hand wrapped around his ankle and yanked. A dark shape loomed ahead, and Lucien realized they were headed straight towards a towering crag. Without thinking he launched himself forward, grabbed a hold of his first mate and fell off the side of the ship and into the water.

---

He was alive. That was the first thought that jammed itself into his mind as he came to. The next thought he had was that he was about to be violently sick.

Without opening his eyes Lucien rolled onto his hands and knees and retched. A torrent of sea water and bile exploded out of him until he was weak and breathless. He slumped onto his back, wincing at the pain burning every cell in his body. For a moment all he could do was lie there, his limbs heavy and leaden. And then the memory of what had happened came rushing back.

The mist, the crags, his sailors jumping ship. Jurian. Jurian.

Lucien’s eyes snapped open. With some difficulty he sat up and glanced around him. He was lying on a rocky beach in a cave. The water in the center of the cave was full of the same rocky crags that surrounded the misty island, and the ceiling dripped with sharp stalactites. Bits of wood floated all around him- the only remnants of his beloved ship.

A wave of grief rocked through him like a punch to the gut. There were other ships, of course, but the Loyal Storm had been his first.

Get a hold of yourself. There would be time to grieve later. For now he had more pressing problems. Like the fact that he was lying in a cave in the middle of the ocean.

That was when he noticed the bodies. His crew, that band of exiles and misfits and thieves and criminals, lying dead on the shore amongst the wreckage.

Lucien scrambled to his feet, lunging from one body to the next, looking for the one that was the most familiar and dear to him. He couldn’t breathe from the fear wrapping its iron first around his throat.

But it was useless. There was no sign of Jurian anywhere in the cave, alive or dead. Lucien fell to his knees.There would be other ships, but there would never be a first mate like Jurian. His only consolation was that his friend had died at sea, as a true pirate should.

Tears were falling down his face, but Lucien didn’t bother wiping them away. There was nobody to see him weep. He was alone, marooned in a cave in the middle of the ocean, without a ship.

Get a grip, you muttonhead. Get up.

One foot in front of the other. That was how he had survived before, and it was how he would keep surviving.

He was struggling to his feet again when a sound caught his attention. A wet, slick sound that had nothing to do with the waves crashing around the mouth of the cave. Had someone else survived the wreck? Lucien stumbled through the mist like a blind man, looking for the source of the sound.

Another noise cut through the silence. A gasp of surprise and delight.

“Hello?” His voice echoed around the rock, calling back to him in a loop.

Another gasp, quick and sharp. Lucien followed the sound, careful to not trip on the bodies littering the beach. There was movement in the water.

“Hello?” he called again. “Is someone there? Are you alright?”

Silence answered him. But someone was definitely in the water, he couldn’t have imagined it. Hope bloomed in his chest. Someone else had survived- perhaps it was Jurian. Maybe his friend hadn’t died after all. He fell to his knees at the edge of the water and held out his hand.

“Jurian, is that you? Here, let me help you. Blimey, how did you-”

His voice died in his throat as a figure appeared in front of him out of the mist. His arm was still extended, limp and useless.

It was a woman. A cascade of golden-brown curls floated around her like seaweed, framing a face as lovely as sunlight itself.

But what caught his attention was the body, half floating in the water next to her. The man’s chest had been ripped open, the blood spray on his face so thick he was unrecognizable. More horrifying, however, was the fact that where there should have been his heart there was only an empty cavity.

The location of said heart became clear when Lucien looked at the woman again. She held her hands above the water, cradling the sailor’s heart like a treasure. Blood dripped down her arms, but Lucien could still make out the shape of her fingers. Or, more specifically, the fact that they ended in sharp claws. Sharp enough to have cut open the man’s chest.

For a split second he stared in mute horror, and she stared back, eyes wide with surprise. And then she grinned, her expression switching to what could only be described as pure delight.

Before Lucien could react or say anything her lips started moving. He could see her mouth move, but no words were coming out.

She dropped the heart she was holding with a plop, and turned her attention towards him. Lucien couldn’t breathe properly as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Her rosy lips curved into a grin, and Lucien felt his own lips mirroring the motion. He wanted to speak but the words were lodging in his throat. There were no words good enough to express what he wanted to say to her.

She was the answer. It was clear now. Why had he been afraid, when she was right there all along? He felt silly with relief.

“There you are.”

Had he spoken, or had she? He couldn’t quite tell. It didn’t matter.

Her lips were still moving, but Lucien couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heart. He was wading into the water, but she was floating back, beckoning him deeper. It didn’t matter. He would follow her wherever she went.

The waves reached his waist, and then his shoulders, and then he was swimming, waves crashing into him from every side. And then finally- finally she was there, in front of him. Her arms reached for him, and Lucien fell into her. Her scent wrapped around him, filling his lungs like air. Salty like the ocean around him, but sweet as honey. It was better than oxygen, more than life.

And then her lips stopped moving, and it was like waking from a dream. Reality snapped into place with horrible clarity.

“What-”

Before he could process where he was or what was happening he was yanked below the surface. The last thing he saw before he was pulled underwater was her eyes. Brown as a fawn’s coat, warm and lovely, with a slit-like pupil.

And then the world was nothing but water and salt.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME #elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #don't yell at me about the earplugs okay?#I HAD TO #what happened to Jurian though?

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