this moment. . . i treasure it

champagne coloured

Written for 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt #95 Champagne

Ship: Sully/Sumia

Fandom: Fire Emblem Awakening

Word Count: 1,476

Rating: T

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Proposals

   Sumia squealed with laughter as Sully gave the reins a good stir. The horse they shared, a beautiful darling with a free spirit and a champagne coloured coat, gave a buck. Its excitement roused by how Sully commanded it, it huffed and snorted as it continued to race through the countryside.

   Sumia’s arms tightened their embrace around Sully’s midsection. She was stocky and warm, it made Sumia smile as she buried her face against Sully’s back, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the ride. She felt the sun on her back and every rock to the horse’s gallop.

   No matter the time of day or how frequently she rode, Sumia never got sick or bored of the sensation of riding a horse or pegasus. In tandem, sitting in the saddle behind Sully, she could never tire or grow dull of that. She adored spending time with her beloved, being whisked away over hills and moors that she would not typically explore by herself or with her own mount.

   The picnic basket that Sumia had packed rattled and jangled against the saddle. Her stomach growled, too. It felt like they had only been out and adventuring the verdant countryside for a handful of minutes but maybe it had been a lot longer than Sumia had guessed. Enraptured by the fun and excitement truly made it last, Sumia felt. She tapped Sully’s shoulder and Sully turned her head slightly.

   “Hankering for lunch, are ya?” sully asked, her voice razed by the wind that they were dashing through.

   “I am a little peckish.” Sumia replied.

   “Don’t worry ‘bout it, there’s a lovely little gully nearby. We’ll set up camp there.” Sully assured her.

   Sumia beamed, “I can’t wait to see it then.”

   “Heck yeah,” Sully raucously replied, “c’mon boy, giddy up, we’re almost at our rest stop, bud.”

   She gave the reins another jostle and then held them back tight to warn her horse not to over exert itself. Sumia felt the pace shift and took the time to lean out over the side of the horse. She watched as more of the landscape became known to her. Clean, trickling creeks and mossy trees on their banks choked and cluttered with all sorts of blooming wildflowers. All whilst under a demure and cloudy blue-grey sky.

   Sully had the horse halt up ahead and dismounted with ease - and all without giving Sumia an accidental smack with her leg, too. She tied the reins to a branch and pet the nose of her companion mount, whispering to him that he get his rest whilst she and Sumia had their lunch.

   Sumia dismounted next. Her foot tangled with one of the stirrups and so, her awkward dismount ended in a flop. Sully screeched and Sumia whined that she was fine, even though she had face-planted into the soft ground. At least it was soft.

   “Are you okay?” Sully asked as she helped Sumia to her feet.

   “Y-Yeah,” Sumia brokenly replied as she tried to wipe dirt off her face, “its very cushiony here.” She even bounced on her heel to emphasise.

   “Yeah, unexpected benefit of all that good rain we’ve had recently, I s’pose.” Sully replied.

   Under the discarded and swatted away muck, Sumia did look fine. No broken nose or anything, not even a busted lip or a little bit of blood. Sully sighed with relief but she decided to unhitch the picnic basket from the saddle instead of Sumia, lest she drop it, too, or worse. Sumia didn’t mind, she appreciated the courtesy and instead pulled the rolled up blanket free from where it had been fixed upon the saddle.

   Sumia trotted around inquisitively as she looked for a good spot to unveil the blanket - it was thick and tartan, and was unlikely to get messy anywhere regardless of where it was placed - but she still wanted to choose the best spot. The best spot, she decided, was adjacent to the tree that Sully had affixed their horse to. She sprawled it out and as soon as the fabric settled on the ground, Sully plopped down the picnic basket, popping it open.

   “Let’s dig in, eh?” Sully asked.

   “Sounds good.” Sumia smiled.

   She knelt down softly and perched herself upon the blanket. Sully’s hand fished through the contents of the picnic basket: Sumia had packed them both a verifiable feast. Sandwiches, pies, and fancy looking drinks, too. Sully could hardly choose where to start. However, given that Sumia had chosen a sandwich first, Sully thought to do the same thing.

   Sully tucked into mashed egg sandwiches and cold meat sandwiches, too. At least three at a time and ate with much gusto. Sumia could hardly eat her own as she was so entranced by the enthusiasm that Sully had for the food that Sumia had made for them both. All her hard work was most certainly satisfied by watching Sully so eagerly eat. So, not wanting to be left behind in Sully’s crumbs before she charged onto the second course of the dessert pies that Sumia had made, Sumia made some effort to eat at least half as heartily as Sully.

   Somewhere in between the sandwiches and pies, they also poured themselves some drinks that Sumia had brewed herself. Cold tea with sparkling water, flavoured with all her favourite berries and fruits. It was all so very delicious, bright and vivacious.

   Sumia had done well to pack just enough food between them to leave them more than content. Sully laid down by the empty basket and bottles of drink, staring up at the sky. Though it was murky with clouds, there didn’t seem to be a hint of rain. It was just dim but cosy, only in the way big, thick clouds of white and grey could be. All because here and there, great shafting sunbeams peeked out from behind those blanketing clouds like glimpses of heaven.

   Sumia laid down beside Sully as well. She stole a glance at Sully and slowly inched her hand closer to Sully’s. Their pinkie fingers entwined. Sully beamed whilst Sumia felt the pitter-patter of her heartbeat increase. Even Sully’s pinkie finger felt sturdy and tough, just like the rest of her, it was comforting.

   “D’you think there’ll be a good harvest this spring?” Sully asked.

   “I would hope so. We’ve had a good winter for it.” Sumia replied.

   “Yeah, I think so, too.” Sumia agreed. “I reckon I’ll give a hand where needed. Its nice, this peacetime thing.”

   “It really is.” Sumia murmured.

   “Then, when everything’s done an’ dusted, we’ve put down all the shears and reaped all what we’ve sown, we’ll have more food than we’ll know what to do with, don’t ya think?” Sully asked but her question sounded rhetorical.

   Sumia only hummed there, letting Sully continue to speak her stream of consciousness as she admired the sky.

   “Since we’ll have so much food, and everyone’ll be so tired, I think having a huge shindig with all the Shepherds would go down a treat.” Sully said.

   Sumia shifted her head slightly, her eyes were sparkling, “Just for the occasion of a good harvest?” 

   “Nah.” Sully replied and she turned her head too, her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “The occasion will be a wedding. Ours. Whaddya think? Sumia, will you do me the absolute honour of being my wife?”

   Sumia felt every nerve in her body alight. She propped herself up, reefing her hand from Sully but Sully got up as well. She smiled a cheeky smile whilst her other hand rummaged through a pack at her rear, attached to her belt. She pulled out a little black-purple pouch of velvet and there was only one thing inside of it. 

   Sully offered the ring to Sumia, “Well?” she prompted her.

   “Well, what? Of course, I’m going to say yes, dummy.” Sumia replied, tears of joy already spilling out the side of her eyes as she embraced Sully into the biggest embrace of either of their lives - and hard enough to crack Sully’s spine by the feel of it.

   Sully laughed from the bottom of her belly and she hugged Sumia back, keeping a careful hold on the ring. It was just a plain little band of champagne coloured gold. It didn’t have a gem atop it nor did it have any inscriptions. It didn’t need anything like that and neither did Sumia or Sully. The way Sully saw it, it was going to get beaten and scuffed by everything Sumia did with her hands, thereby imbuing it with a lifetime of love better than any jewel could ever signify.

   Slowly, Sumia let go and she gave her hand to Sully. Her eyes were soft but determined as she slipped the ring onto Sumia’s finger. It was a perfect fit and Sumia’s thrilled expression was one that Sully would sooner die than forget.

The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 6

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate. A/N: Hi sweeties! Writing this chapter has been hard, looooot of feelings in this one :( Hope you like it, bacetti! Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior. General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence Chapter’s warning: Angst-ish Words: 3937

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six: Leaving

Aoife was happy to see that Finan was back to his old cocky self now that Uthred had come back. Aoife had stepped back against the wall, careful not to interfere with the celebration of Uthred’s return. She had watched him hug Finan, with a wide smile on his handsome face and the Irish warrior seemed utterly light-hearted for the first time since Uthred had left. But it was fleeting moment because when gave him the news of Sithric departure with the Dane prisoners, cloud covered his honey-eyes. The Lord didn’t looked particularly surprised. Hurt, yes, but after all it was his last order for Sithric to leave. He quickly dismissed the issue, turning around to greet the young monk. “You still alive?” he asked, hugging him tightly. “Of course.” Osferth answered, and the Dane’s eyes found Aoife, sending her a grateful smile. She had saved his friend’s life, all in all. And ask quick as he smiled, his attention was diverted and captured by Aethelflaed. She had entered the hall and was looking at him with the widest smile on her face,. “You are back.” She stated happily. “I told you I would.” Food was brought for the Lord. Aoife was sitting between Aethelflaed and Osferth, while Finan was sitting in front of her with a fur wrapped around his broad shoulders. They all were discussing how to recover Skade and Uthred seemed confident in the success of the plan, even if there wasn’t an actual plan yet. He looked happier than before and Aoife would have liked to ask him if he had found peace for his brother. She surely hoped so, but she could not ask such question; Finan had told her that Uthred’s brother, the great Dane warrior Young Ragnar, had been brutally murdered by an unknown companion, without his sword in hand, which meant that he was stuck in the cold, Dane hell, the Niflheim, and not feasting in the Valhalla. How could people be so cruel, Aoife could not understand, but if Uthred’s smile meant that he had found the solution he was searching and had help Ragnar to enter the Valhalla, she was pleased with the ending. Her streamed of thought was interrupted by Aethelflaed who stood up to leave the room, not without ordering Uthred, with a sly smile on, to walk with her after he was done eating. She patted Aoife on her back, a silence demand to go with her, and the maid followed her outside with a last smile to Finan and a little bow to Uthred. “Are you humping her, Finan?” Uthred asked and the other choked on his ale. “ ‘M not, Lord.” he mumbled shily, gasping for air. “You’re a fool, then. She surely has desire behind her eyes, might as well fulfil them myself.” Finan’s hands open and close frantically, he knew Uthred was making fun of him,  but he was also known for desiring every beautiful woman and for winning their love back most of the time. He could not even imagine losing Aoife for his Lord. Uthred laughed loudly at his rage “I’m mocking you, Finan.” he slapped the back of his head lightly “But you should act on it before someone else does.” “You, insolent woman!” Aoife laughed, entering Aethelflaed’s room. Their relation had developed to a point of friendship where Aoife felt free to tell her Lady whatever she wanted, without fearing the consequences; likewise, when they were alone, Aethelflaed dropped her serious stance of Lady of Mercia and acted as the girl she still was inside. The Lady shot a shameless smile “I had to take advantage of the moment.” She jumped on her bed, not very lady-like, and started brushing her hair emphatically “And he look so handsome. Even more handsome than before, don’t you think?” “Stop that, you’ll bald in moments.” Aoife screamed exasperated, snatching the brush from her hands and working on her hair more delicately, the free hand place on the top of her, careful not to pull her hair. “And you’re the one talking!” the Lady continued, raising her voice “Walking around my estate hand in hand with Finan!” Aoife blushed intensely “He’s my friend” she tried to explain herself. “You’re lying, and you know that.” She was right, Aoife knew that, what she was feeling wasn’t friendly at all, nor holy if she had to be entirely honest, but she also knew that if Finan would have felt those same feelings, he would have acted upon them. They were only friends who held each other’s hand. It was that easy. “So, what do you want to tell Uthred?” she changed subject, and Aethelflaed let her do so. “For once, I will not share my thoughts with you, Aoife.” She answered and her friend hit her playfully with the brush “Rude.” Aoife had left Aethelflaed with Uthred and was now walking around the town with Osferth. He was recovering well, no longer limping. “So, when are you expected to leave?” “Very soon. Uthred is eager and wants his seer back.” “I don’t understand, he could have Aethelflaed and he is risking his life for that… that witch.” Osferth laughed heartily “It’s not that easy, lady.” he stated “He believes he is cursed by Skade until he lays with her.” Aoife twitched her nose “Disgusting.” The monk nodded “Indeed. it would never lay with Aethelflaed, anyway, as much as he wants to. He believes he would corrupt her.” Aoife shot him a questioning look “What does it even mean?” “It means that she is a Lady, he is a heathen. He does have feeling for her but cannot act upon them because it wouldn’t be right for her. Adultery is a sin, and it would mean a great deal both for Wessex and Mercia. He does not want to endanger her for his selfish desires. Which, funnily enough, is also what Finan thinks about you.” She really needed to learn how to not blush “Hush, Osferth. He does not.” “You like to think that you know him to the core, Aoife. But you do not. I’m confident you will end up together, one day or the other.” She didn’t know what to answer, but luckily Finan forced his way between them and wrapped his arms about their shoulders. “What are we talking about?” “Your departure!” Aoife answered quickly, raising her voice to cover Osferth possible answer. He did not speak, however, and repressed a smile. Finan didn’t seem to notice the weird interaction, and pinched Aoife’s cheek “You’ll miss me, lady?” he asked playfully. “Very much so.” She answered, sarcastic her tone, not her words. They walked around town until Uthred and Aethelflaed returned with a guest. They had been attacked by a group of Danes and the man with them was an hostage and one of Aethelwold’s man, Uthred had recognised him instantly. They went back to the hall, Aoife standing next to Aethelflaed in a corner of the room, following Finan’s every move, while he was heating the pliers over the fire. She wasn’t sure she was ready to watch a man being tortured, or better yet, she wasn’t ready to watch Finan do such a cruel thing. However, she was well aware that he would not enjoy it either, but he was doing what was needed to guarantee the safety of his people. After all, the hostage that now seemed harmless and afraid had tried to kill her Lady and his Lord. Deep in her guts, she was feeling guilty for leaving her Lady’s side; her job was specifically to keep her safe and she had failed miserably. Nonetheless Aethelflaed didn’t seem to mind and she was gripping her hand tightly, earnest, resolute and vigilant. She had never looked more threatening. Torture was not necessary, however, because the men spoke immediately. He was sent to kill Uthred. “Why did Lord Aethelwold send men to kill Lord Uthred?” Aethelflaed walked closer to the prisoner, slowly and dangerous as a wolf, Aoife followed closely, she would not leave her alone for a moment more. “Because Uthred is Alfred’s sword and shield.” He answered truthfully as if it was the most obvious answer. Uthred was inscrutable: calm, almost bored. Aoife was watching him in amaze, and a fire of desire started in her heart, she wanted to serve him as a warrior. As quickly as the idea came, it was gone, leaving her guilty towards her Lady. Uthred offered to spare his life if he would carry a message to the Danes, which was weird and honestly reckless. “You will return to Aethelwold, Haesten, Cnut and Bloodhead and you will tell them that Uthred of Bebbanburg is coming as a shadow walker and they will die as my brother died. I will send them all to Niflheim.” The man accepted, a gaze of fear and admiration in his light eyes, and Uthred turned around to address his warriors, Finan standing at his side as the good second in command he was “Like Sithric, some of you might doubt me. I understand why. There have been times, of late, when I have doubted myself. Those times are behind me, now.” Aoife, from the corner of her eyes, saw Aethelflaed watch him in adoration. In any other moment, she would have made fun of her, but now her too, like everyone in the room, was captivated by him, by his words. “I am a Lord without wealth. Without land. I cannot offer you silver nor the wall of a fortress behind which you can grow fat and lazy. Follow me and I will take you down a hard, brutal path. But it is a path that leads to the one thing every true warrior desires: reputation. Follow me and you will have my sword and my oath. For what that you are Dane or Saxon, I swear I will die to protect each and anyone of you. My mind is clear about what must be done, though I cannot do it without you.” One after the other, all the men stood up without hesitation. It was a matter of second and so impressive that Aoife desired to be sitting on the chair, just so she could stand up with the others. As the most violent of rivers, Aoife felt the desire of join Uthred’s army hit her soul once again. It was just a moment, though, because she turned around to watch Aethelflaed, who was already watching her, and she immediately felt guilty, for she loved her friend and Lady and she had oath to her. That woman had given her protection, love, the freedom to be herself, happiness; and she had only asked for her loyalty, and yet, Aoife was craving another life, which would mean leaving her. But which would also mean being what she had wanted to be for a long time now. And moreover, it would mean living side by side with Finan. Was her desire for a man enough to betray her Lady? It was not. She followed Aethelflaed up to her room and help her out of the dress. The Lady was unusually silent, and Aoife feared it was because of her. Aethelflaed could easily read emotions on her face and she would have surely noticed the shine of desire in her eyes. She decided not to address the issue, let that moment of weakness slip, as if it had never happened; but Aethelflaed was thinking otherwise. “You should go with him, Aoife.” She casually stated, after a long silence. Aoife decided that the right thing to do was to pretend she doesn’t know what was going on “I am lost.” Aethelflaed rolled her eyes and gestured for the maid to sit on the bed with her and turned to face her “You should ask Uthred to let you go with them.” She smiled sweetly, holding her hands “I know you want to.” “I do not.” Aoife kept lying “I have sworn my sword to you, and I am more than happy at your side. It is what I want.” “No, it is not.” Aethelflaed insisted “And I know that you would stay, should I ask you to, because you’re my friend and a very loyal maid.” She gripped her hands tightly “But that’s not what you are, deep down. You’re a warrior. I have watched you training, you are never as happy as when you’re fighting.” Aoife’s eyes where already filled with tears “I promised you that you would live as a free woman and by letting you be my guard, I am breaking my promise. I have many guards, Aoife. And you know that I am safer here than anywhere else. I do not need you. But I think that Uthred needs you, both as a warrior and as a healer. And you need Uthred to be free.” She then smiled sheepishly “And I don’t think that neither you nor Finan are ready to let go of each other. Aoife was already weeping, and the Lady’s eyes too were filled with tears, so they hugged each other and cried, all night long, knowing that, should Uthred accept Aoife’s oath, they would risk to not see each other for a very long time, if not forever; for Aoife it felt like losing her only family. They fell asleep when the sky was already starting to clear, holding each other as if it was the last night in the world. The next morning, the air was cold on Aoife face, and she woke up alone in the Lady’s bed. She knew she was looking miserable when she rolled down the stairs. She was wearing her weapons, and, on her shoulder, she was carrying a small sack that contained her few belongings: some clothes and silver Aethelflaed had given her, a book and a wooden rosary. “You look horrible.” Aethelflaed commented, joining her at the entrance. “You don’t look much better, my Lady.” She joked with a sad smile, eyes wet. “You should be happy, new adventures await!” Aethelflaed tried to ease the tension. “We don’t know, he might refuse my oath.” “Trust me, he will not.” the Lady ruffled her hair “You’re a gifted woman.” Uthred was standing with Finan and Osferth when the women joined him. “You healed him well.” Uthred said to Aoife, pointing at Osferth “I have never seen him leaving for battle so willingly.” Aoife smiled, at loss of words. It was Aethelflaed who addressed the situation. “Aoife here wishes to fight for you, Uthred.” Aoife could feel Finan’s questioning look burning the side of her face. “And why should I let you fight, Aoife? The battlefield is a dangerous place, especially for a woman.” the Lord was staring at her with an amused smile on, he was not taking her seriously. So, Aoife straighten her back, ready to plead her case. She felt braver because he hadn’t said no just yet and she could tell by his face that he was at least willing to hear her reasons. “I know it is, Lord. I would be a fool not to understand the danger I would face, but I have worked hard with Finan to improve my fighting skills and, excuse my arrogance, I am a better warrior that half of yours.” “She is.” Osferth admitted. “And she is also a healer.” Aethelflaed added “And what happened to Osferth proves that you are in desperate need of one.” “I know my way around wound, yes.” Aoife smiled to her friends, then watched back to Uthred, who was staring at her with a curious and pleased look on his face. “Look. Let me try at least. Should I fail you, I will find my way back to my Lady.” She took Aethelflaed’s hand “Because one thing must be clear. My sword shall be yours as long as you desire, but I will forever be a woman of the Lady of Mercia.” Uthred was thinking about it, Aoife could see him reflecting behind those beautiful eyes of him, then with a sudden movement, he gripped at the back of her head and pushed her forehead against his. They stand there in silence, eyes closed, for what seemed like the eternity, Aoife’s heart was beating violently against her chest. Was it a yes? Was it a no? What was it, in God’s name? Then he stepped away with a huge smile on his face. “Go get your horse. You’re my warrior now.” Saying goodbye to Aethelflaed was the hardest part, but they had already said everything the night before. “I shall meet you soon, Aoife.” The Lady said, “Try not to get yourself killed.” Aoife laughed while tears rolled down her face “I will try my best, Lady.” She then pulled the rosary out of her sack “Keep it safe until I’m back, would you?” “I sure will.” Aethelflaed put the rosary around her neck and hugged her tightly “I will miss you greatly, Aoife.” “Nun!” Uthred screamed from the gate “We are to leave!” She got on her mount swiftly. Godiva, her beautiful black horse, neighed happily. She was once used to great adventures, but since Cenric had left her with Aoife she hadn’t done much more than some walk. “I know my love.” The woman said, patting her neck “You’re free now.” “You stubborn woman.” Finan had guided his horse closer to her and he did not look happy. Stretching her right leg, she could easily touch him. “You’re not happy to see me?” she joked, and he did crack a smile. “I am, trust me.” He mumbled, and she could swear he was blushing “But I know I’m being selfish, Aoife. Being a warrior… it’s dangerous, lady.” She was flattered that he cared, of course she was, and she understood why he was worried. However, it was her choice and only hers to make and even if she had chosen impulsively, she felt it was the right thing to do. She stretched her hand, and he met her halfway, their finger intertwining in the empty space between their horses. “I’m a woman, Finan. I’m always in danger.” They rode all day long and Uthred ordered then to stop only when the sun disappeared, and they could not see past the nose of their mount. Aoife was exhausted, her back was aching, and the humidity of the wood gotten to her bones and she was shivering. Yet it had been one of the best days of her life. She had never been much in the open and she had spent the entire ride stretching her neck as far as possible to look at everything she could. It was all covered in snow. When the night had come, she had almost fell from her horse, raising her gaze to the sky. She had never seen that many stars in just one night. Osferth had laughed of her and she had come back to reality. They had stopped soon after to rest for the night and she just then realised that she had to sleep in a tent, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by man. “Don’t worry Aoife” Uthred turned around to smile at her “You can trust these men. And if not, you must believe I will kill them, shall they even try to touch you.” his eyes diverted on the Irishman, who was working on Aoife’s tent “And he would too.” he patted her on the shoulder, strong enough to make her stumble, and then left her alone. The tents were soon set up, the food cooked, and Aoife realised she was starving when the soup was placed in front of her. Ale was drank – just a cup each, they had to be sober the day after – and while some men made themselves as comfortable as possible for the first turn of guard, the others went to sleep. Aoife left the group too, but she wasn’t tired, she walked around the camp for a while, to stretch her sore muscles. The night was dark, but she was feeling safe, maybe too safe. Finan was watching her from the shadow and silently slipped behind her and wrapped his hand around her mouth, pushing the tip of his blade against her ribcage before she could even turn around. “You should never let your guard down, Aoife.” he whispered in her ear, and was pleased to see her shivering against his chest. He could feel every curve of her body against his, despite the layers of clothes and weapons. She mumbled something in his palm and kicked him lightly on the shin and he quickly let her go. She spun to face him, red her cheeks for their proximity “I have you keeping an eye on me all the time, I’m not worried.” she joked, but seeing his stern look she added before he could scold her “You’re right, thought, and I apologise. I’m just enjoying the freedom. I’ve dreamt about it for so long.” He was still angry at her lack of caution but couldn’t repress the smile. He had spent the ride watching her admiring landscape and the night sky, he had seen how happy she was, how good the freedom tasted. He had also come to terms with the reality that all he seemed to notice, those days, concerned Aoife. He hadn’t even thought about the mission yet, he hadn’t thought about his possible encounter with Sithric, what would he do if he had to fight him. He hadn’t thought yet about how Uthred’s plan was doomed to fail. All he could think about was Aoife, where was she, how was she feeling, how happy yet worry he was to have her at his side. Sweet Jesus Christ, was his feelings deeper than those of a friend? “We can stay here for a while, if you want.” They stood there for a long time, in complete silence, Aoife savouring the clear air, the smell of snow and pine, Finan watching her, with a small smile. They was called to guard duty and sat around the fine, facing each other. “We should talk” Finan said “to keep each other awake.” “Tell me something, then.” Aoife smiled lazily, she was not used to be awake at night, but she would fight the tiredness until the end of the guard. She wanted to prove to Uthred – and to herself – that she was, indeed, a warrior. “I told you much about me, lady.” Finan laughed “And I know nothing about you.” “I have been a nun most of my life, I have no memories of the life before. You know everything.” “I do not.” She put her chin on her hand “What do you want to know, then?” “Who gifted you the horse, Aoife?” He didn’t even have to think about a question, it was something he had been curious about since the day they rode to Winchester. He had guessed that whoever had left her the horse was the same person that had gifted her the weapons and taught her how to fight; and then there was that comment from the Abbess: “I will not let it happen again.” What should not happen again? Had it have something to do with a man like Finan? “You had that question ready, hadn’t you?” Aoife laughed but he could tell that she was uncomfortable. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” She took his hand in hers, they were cold and soft “You had trusted me with your past, Finan. I shall trust you with mine.” Chapter Seven.

happy lizzer kiss babes! also, as mentioned in the notes of this one, lil heads up that i’m gonna be taking a little break from posting fic in november! and by “little break” i mean i’ll be writing 50k of a novel lmao what a good “break” i am so terribly smart. anyway love you!

A Moment As An Optimist

[ao3] [Ch 2]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Forbidden Love , (alas.......), miscommunication followed quickly by communication

Summary: It is one of Damien's favorite events of the entire year, all revelry and romance and joy, and he cannot wait to share it with his lovers. Or- with one of them, at least.

Notes: Title from the song Heart of a Pessimist, by Be Steadwell, a song which also p well vibes with the fic as a whole. Also, just to... get out ahead of this a little, but I'm gonna be taking a break from fanfic for the month of November so I can properly do NaNoWriMo again this year! Which is exciting! But it also means that I'm gonna publish fic on tuesdays for the rest of October, and then November is gonna be radio silence from my end, on here at least. You can come hmu on tumblr @jakkubrat if you wanna see me just, shrieking at the void about writing in general, but I doubt any of y'all are interested in that. Anyway I love you. Hope you like this one! I intend to get the second chapter out before my little hiatus :3c

~

"And then," Damien says, gesturing wildly with his hands, "after the sparring demonstrations and the feast, the square is cleared and the musicians take their place of honor. They will play, and play, and play the whole rest of the evening. Songs quick and full of giddy joy, songs steeped with contemplation and longing and love, all manner of melodies in the in-between, and they will not cease playing- not until the very last of us has grown too fatigued for further footwork. Only when the very last of the revelers has succumbed to exhaustion, only then will the music finally fade into the more natural song of the night."

Damien sighs deeply, then, his hand pressing over his heart as he fixes his eyes on the middle distance.

"I'll admit the dancing is pretty fun, at least," Rilla says with a shrug, her own tone much more casual. "Food's not too bad either."

"Pretty fun!" Damien cries, his eyes sparking with excitement. "Oh, damning with such faint praise, my love! It is quite reliably among the most enjoyable events of the year! Why- oh, I could not possibly forget the year when you and I danced clear through until the dawn, and when finally we relented we were so terribly exhausted that we barely clung to each other long enough to stumble to the closest inn to properly collapse- a battle more draining that my greatest conquests, and still I do not think there has been a day I have laughed quite so heartily, nor been so blessed with your own laughter and love! Oh, Rilla, perhaps this year they will play that one particular song- that one with those quick triplets, the one that played just as they lit the lanterns last year, oh, and Arum! When the drums begin, then we could-"

He pauses.

"We- y-you and I could- could-"

Damien notices, quite suddenly, the low growl emanating from his lizard love. He notices the wince upon Rilla's face, as well.

Damien swallows, pulling his hand back to press over his heart as it sinks, and sinks, and sinks.

"We could... what?" Arum murmurs, slow and measured and vicious. "What, precisely, could we do at your festival, honeysuckle?"

"I-" Damien's breath catches. "I... I only..." he buries the hitch in his throat in a slight cough. "I... I managed to get quite ahead of myself, I'm afraid," he says in a muted voice. "So excited was I to share such joy... I did not even think."

"You certainly did not," Arum hisses. "How little prompting you require to forget, hm? To forget entirely that I am a monster."

"No," Damien says quickly, shaking his head. "I- I did not forget- how could I possibly? Arum-"

"Or to forget me entirely, perhaps-"

"I did not forget you," Damien says. "I forgot them. I forgot- I forgot every single thing in the world, besides you, and Rilla, and I, and... and the idea of spending a whole long evening with you both, dancing in the lamplight."

"I imagine the evening would be rather short, in fact. Hardly a minute would pass before I was slain."

"That's not fair," Rilla snaps, pushing off from the wall and glaring at the monster, but Damien's heart is still swirling and tumbling and the image- Arum at the festival, dancing at their sides, the cries of alarm and fear and hatred, the blades-

"Very little is," Arum snarls. "I am merely pointing out the obvious. It does not matter what we want- what he wants. That door is not open to us, and to pretend otherwise is foolishness itself."

"You know he wasn't trying to make you feel left out-"

"I-" Arum laughs, bitter and brittle and unconvincing. "I feel no such thing. I do not care. In fact- in fact, I do not have the first clue why we are still discussing it. Should you not be on your way already?" He snarls, and then he folds his arms over his chest, visibly settling himself. "Go on, then," Arum says, his voice flat and toneless, but Damien- Damien can't help but hear the current of pain beneath it. Judging by the way Rilla's expression shifts, just slightly, she can hear it too. "Go on. If this event is so terribly exciting, you should scuttle off to your Citadel and start your revelry already."

"Arum," Damien starts, his voice gentle, and Arum's snout wrinkles.

"I don't need your pity, honeysuckle," he hisses quickly, turning to pace with his cape billowing behind him. "We all know exactly what time we may steal away with each other. We all know what we are allowed, and what we are not." He turns his head away, his lip curling up to show the edges of his teeth. "It hardly matters anyway. I do not expect that any human celebration would be of any interest to me whatsoever. Music is only music and food is only food and I can very well find some of my own anywhere I should like."

"Arum," Rilla says, her voice quiet but firm, and Arum's scowl deepens.

"What? What, precisely, have I gotten wrong? In what way is my understanding of the situation flawed? I have no interest in-"

"I won't go."

Arum blinks, stumbling from his pacing to a halt, and his frill begins to sink as Rilla turns towards Damien again.

Damien shakes his head, feeling the tightness in his throat and attempting not to let it become evident in his voice. "I won't. I- I do not want to. It is only by necessity that I am ever anywhere that you cannot safely accompany. By Saint Damien above why should I ever want to revel and ramble and partake in such a joy if I cannot share it with the both of my loves? Why-"

"Oh, Damien-"

Rilla steps closer, one hand reaching to grip his wrist, and Damien feels the heat at the corners of his eyes and shakes his head again, more fiercely.

"This festival has always and only ever brought me joy, brought me closer to and more familiar with love, with beauty and delight, and- and I could not even consider those concepts for one moment without thinking of you as well, Arum, and- and- and I cannot bear the idea of suffering an event I once loved so dearly without you by our sides. It is unthinkable, I could not- I will not."

Arum stares at him for a long moment, his frill sinking further, his throat rattling.

"I won't," Damien says again, more quietly. "Not without you."

Arum inhales slowly, his expression folding into more visible pain, and he hisses through his teeth and winces before he responds.

"No," he says slowly, his voice low and rumbling. "No, I can't abide-" he pauses, and then sighs, dropping his eyes. "No. I didn't- I did not- I spoke rashly and- no. I didn't mean to- to-" he clenches his teeth again, lifting a hand to scrub down his face. "No. This... this event is... significant to you, honeysuckle. I know that it is not your fault, nor hers, nor mine, that we cannot enjoy it together. It is no one's fault, it is simply the truth. It is simply... the world, as it is. But-" he hesitates, and then he sighs again and steps closer, reaching to brush his hand down Damien's arm.

Damien sags instantly at the contact, immediately closing the remaining gap, folding himself against Arum's chest as Rilla lets go of his wrist, stepping up behind him instead and touching his back with soothing hands.

"But, little honeysuckle, that does not mean you both should not enjoy it regardless. Clearly I should not like to be without you, but I would be much more unhappy if my mere existence kept you from something you so clearly adore."

Damien blinks, and then he lifts his face to frown up at the monster. "But, Arum-"

"This is important to you," he murmurs. "And it is important to me that our arrangement does not prevent you from taking little joys where you can. I apologize for... for snapping at you, in my frustration." He leans down, nudging their foreheads together and sighing. "I am sorry that I allowed my own... that I turned my own pain outward to cause you distress as well. I want you to go. I want you to go, and I want you to enjoy the evening as much as you are able."

Damien makes a small noise, helpless, and then he wraps his arms around the monster and squeezes, hugging him tightly enough that Arum gives a surprised exhale, and then a low soft laugh.

"Oh Arum-"

"I want you to be happy, Damien. I want you both to be happy, even if I cannot be always by your side to be happy with you."

Damien hugs Arum even tighter for a moment, until the monster makes a small breathless noise, and then he loosens his grip enough that he can tilt his head, pressing a kiss to the edge of Arum's jaw, and he cannot help but feel the tears rallying again at the gentle purring noise that rumbles deep in Arum's throat.

"I love you," Damien croons, his lips still touching scales. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry we cannot-"

"It is no one's fault," Arum says again, even more gently. "What we have together already, despite the current conflict... what we have together is already something miraculous. We should not be greedy, I think," he grumbles, his voice performatively grumpy, and Damien chokes on a laugh.

"Oh, so greedy of us, wanting to dance together," Rilla grumbles behind him, her hands gentle on his sides, and he's surprised to hear a small note of sourness in her voice.

"Still," Damien says after a moment, soft and sad. "Still. I cannot help my feelings, cannot help how much I wish..."

Arum nuzzles Damien's cheek with his snout, sighing. "I know. Loathe as I am to admit it... clearly I wish, as well. We knew this would be... complicated when we began together. This is simply something we must swallow, for the moment. Perhaps, someday, we will not need to."

"I do not want to leave you here alone while Rilla and I-"

"I will be fine, honeysuckle," Arum says, shifting back enough that he can lift a hand to brush Damien's hair from his forehead. "I promise. To begin with, I am not alone, so to speak. I am never alone within my Keep."

"You know that isn't what he meant," Rilla says, and Arum rolls his eyes.

"Obviously. But I meant only to assure him that I will not be curled into a ball and wallowing. I will have company, should I desire it, and I will be fine. I apologize, again, for speaking cruelly to you. I've... gotten it out of my system, as Amaryllis is fond of saying," he says with a light sneer, and Damien can see him burying a grin as Rilla raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. "I will not be too terribly bothered by anything but the lack of your warmth. It is only one evening, after all."

"Well... I suppose, if- if you are certain-"

"I am certain, honeysuckle." He nudges his snout against Damien's temple, then, a sweet echo of a kiss, and then he steps back, squeezing Damien's hands before he drops them. "You should go. I will be dearly disappointed if I have managed to entirely ruin this evening for you."

Damien frowns, his stomach still twisting with uncertainty, with how wrong it feels to leave in such a way. "But-"

"He said he'd be fine, Damien," Rilla says, and her shrug is exactly as casual as her words, but when Damien turns towards her to continue to voice his distress, she-

Winks, with the eye that Arum cannot see in their current positions.

"It's just one night. We'll all manage to muddle through for just tonight, and then we'll all do something together later this week. Okay?"

Damien frowns, very lightly, his confusion bubbling, but-

Well. He knows her, knows that particular quirk of her lips, knows the way her eyebrows raise when she silently tells him to trust, to trust her.

He does, of course. He always does.

"I... I suppose..." he murmurs, still confused enough that he cannot think of any better words to say.

"We'll make an appearance, at least. If we aren't enjoying ourselves, there's no reason not to just... slip out early, yeah? And-" she turns to Arum, ducking her head slightly as she lifts a hand to touch his shoulder, smiling when he leans into the contact. "Can we just... come back here later tonight? Just to sleep, or- whatever. You don't have to wait up for us, if you don't want to, but-"

"Of course you may," Arum says quickly, frowning. "Always. You are always welcome and wanted, here." And then, as if to soften the certainty, the enormity of the always he has just offered, he scowls. "And I certainly will not wait up, so you may waste no consideration on that outcome."

Rilla grins, soft and bright and sweet, and Damien knows as well as she does that the monster is lying.

"I love you," Damien says again, because he cannot hold the words inside while they sit scalding at the back of his tongue.

Arum's expression softens, surprise and aching fondness shaping his features, and he steps closer again so he may pull the both of them into his arms.

"I love you as well," the monster murmurs, sighing into their hair. "Now go and have your fun, will you? I expect further tales of glory and exultation when you return."

"Love you too," Rilla says with a snorting laugh, rolling her eyes as she pushes his scaled arms away, but Damien's heart still aches.

"I..." he trails off, uncertain, and he clings to one of Arum's hands for another moment.

"Please," Arum says softly. "Enjoy the evening for me, if you cannot enjoy it with me. I will still be here, when you tire of the lamplight."

"Alright," Damien says slowly, and then he kisses the back of Arum's hand before he releases it. "Until tomorrow, then, Lord Arum."

When the Keep opens a portal for them back to Rilla's hut, Damien does his best not to allow his eyes to linger on his lily for too terribly long. Rilla takes him by the hand, thankfully, and her unruffled feathers soothe Damien's own jagged edges as the portal closes again behind them.

When they are alone, Damien sighs, but he rallies his nerves in only a moment, and he raises an eyebrow as Rilla's grin goes toothy and wild.

"Alright. Alright, my flower. May I know, now, precisely what you have planned for our love?"

"Okay," Rilla says, her voice nearly trembling with her sly delight, "so, tell me if you like this idea-"

𝕺𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖞||TLK Fic|| FinanxOC||Two

AN: Welcome to part two! Just a note, I’ve decided I am going to be using a combination of the show and the book plot for the storyline here.  Also this will be a longer chapter than normal. I didn’t feel there was a natural stopping point any sooner lol. So ya’ll get some fluffy Finan/Tove at the end!

Taglist: let me know if you wanted to be tagged for updates!

||Masterlist||

Summary: Tove chose to surrender rather than be killed, after Sigfried was defeated at Beamfleot, giving herself up to the mercy of the Saxons. Thanks to Finan’s intervention, her life is indeed spared and she is brought into Uhtred’s service. With the sting of defeat fresh on her tongue and her new life fighting for the Saxons secured; Tove is left wondering what tricks the Gods have in store for her next.

Words:3039

-----

In the end, it turned out Tove had been correct about there being no reactionary attack against their main force. A few smoke pillars rose to smudge the sky in the distance, indicating some surviving Danes had been raiding in their retreat toward the sea. But if any followed them, they stayed far enough away not to be observed by the Saxon scouts. As they drew closer to Winchester, it seemed everyone began to relax.

On the third day, the vast city walls came into view from behind a hill and Tove was momentarily struck by the place. Though it's bustling nature was not unlike her home in Denmark, Winchester had tall stone walls which she was told were remnants of an old people called the Romans. There were several other glaring differences between this city and her home walls aside. The most notable, though not unexpected, being the number of Christian priests who scurried about the streets as they passed through the gate.

In Denmark, Tove did not stand out in a crowd, but she quickly realized she did in Winchester. Tove’s war gear was not nearly as splendid as the Lord Uhtred and nothing compared to that of their King. Still, her leather armor, furs, mail coat, trousers, and weapons drew eyes. People stared at her. Not everyone stared, though; some made a concerted effort not to catch her eye, but those who did either stared out of fear or apparent disgust. All the eyes made Tove feel deeply uncomfortable, causing her to stick close to those few she did know; mostly Sihtric and Finan.

“They stare as if they have never seen a shield maiden before,” Tove hissed softly to Sihtric as they reached the stables.

“I doubt they have lass.”

It was not Sihtric who had replied, but Finan. She turned to face him as he dismounted his horse. A slight frown marred Tove’s delicate features.

“They’re common folk,” Finan went on. “War rarely reaches this far into the heart of Wessex. There are still many people here who have never properly even seen a Dane -much less a shieldmaiden.”

“He is right,” Sihtric added. “Do not let them bother you, though.”

She frowned. “I am unused to be stared at.”

Finan quirked an incredulous eyebrow at her words. His eyes flicked over the fitted leather and down her long legs. Finan found that difficult to believe; Tove was not a homely looking woman. He likely would have said as much if it were not for Sihtric’s elbow swiftly striking his side as he opened his mouth to speak. The gesture caused Tove’s eyebrow to arch slightly, but she was easily soothed when Sihtric spoke again.

“Do not let them bother you,” said Sihtric with a reassuring smile. “Come, let us go to the palace.”

Alfred’s palace was imposing. The time and craftsmanship that must have gone into constructing the vast stone building was a daunting thought. More often than not, her people chose to build with planks and logs, which could still be impressive, but it was nothing like what she saw there. The great stone etchings and many-colored paintings caught Tove’s attention more than anything else as she was led down corridors toward the King’s hall. 

Once inside, her attention was drawn to the figure standing before what she thought to be a rather plain chair for a king at the far end of the hall. Immediately she knew this unassuming man must be Alfred. Up close, his figure was no more impressive than she had first deemed him to be, but as his sharp, intelligent eyes focused upon her, Tove saw how this otherwise non-remarkable man commanded such power.

“I’m told you are called Tove Ødgersdottier?” Alfred asked.

Instantly Tove’s eyes flicked to Uhtred, who was closest of their group to the King. Uhtred inclined his head slightly. She gave an almost imperceptible nod of understanding; she was to answer any questions asked of her then, before focusing back on the King.

“I am…Lord King.”

Alfred hummed in response and fell silent for a moment before speaking again. “And you serve the Lord Uhtred now?”

“I do.”

Grey eyes flicked to Uhtred again for some indication of where this questioning was going. There was no answer to be found in her Lord’s face, though and it frustrated her. He appeared to either not know or was simply not inclined to share anything if he did.

“But formerly, you served a Jarl called Njal…and this Jarl was bound to the now-deceased Erik Thurgilson?”

“Yes, my Lord Njal is also slain at Beamfleot,” Tove said. “ Lord Uhtred sees fit to spare me of this fate.”

“So, it seems he did,” said Alfred turning his gaze to Uhtred for the first time. There was something in the look exchanged between the King and her Lord that she did not understand it. “That will be all.”

They were dismissed, all except the Lord Uhtred who gestured that she should follow the others. Tove could not help but glance over her shoulder as they left the hall. Uhtred stood straight-backed as he waited for the room to be cleared while Alfred looked contemplative if not ill at ease. Out in the corridor, she pulled Sihtric aside for an explanation of the tension they had just experienced in Alfred’s hall.

“What was that all about?” Tove asked in Danish.

Sihtric cast a glance around as if checking whether he would be overheard. Ridiculous really, by her estimation, she doubted many people in Winchester spoke Danish.

“You have heard that the Lord Odda disobeyed the King’s orders? And that our Lord was convinced by him that he was doing the King’s bidding in moving against Beamfleot?”

Tove nodded.

“We were not. It was our intent to rescue the Lady Aethelfled.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly. Though, she knew Sigfried had been concerned about Erik and the Lady. It had never occurred to her that Erik may have outside assistance -let alone help of Saxons- for that was unmistakably what was being implied.

“Does the King know this?” Tove asked.

Sihtric shrugged, though he looked somewhat nervous. “Can’t say. He may suspect our story is not the full truth, but what proof does he have?”

None, she supposed, because, by her measure of Alfred, it seemed likely that if the King had any proof, then the lot of them would be locked in a cell alongside the Lord Odda. Despite her disagreement with the principle of punishing one who brought you victory, Tove did admire one thing about Alfred. It appeared he could, in fact, be ruthless when need be as she heard the Lord Odda was a close friend of the King.

At the conclusion of their conversation, Sihtric suggested meeting the others at the popular alehouse called Two Cranes. Despite Winchester's size, the walk was short as the place was not far and the three of them reached it before full dark had set in. Usually, she was not one to tire from travel, but Tove was somewhat worn from the road due to her injuries, and so was thankful for the shortness of the journey.

Upon their arrival, Sihtric and a few others in their party went directly to the bar to order drinks and food. Meanwhile, Tove and Finan found their group a few tables along one side of the tavern’s crowded main room. Finally, able to rest Tove exhaled a sigh as she propped her feet onto the stool beside her own. Finan sat across the table from her with an amused smirk playing at his lips.

“Have ya something to say, Irishman?” Tove quipped.

“Who me?” Finan asked, making a show of looking around to see whom else she could be talking to. “I’ve nothing to say to the mighty shieldmaiden.”

Tove scoffed. ”If Hel came to take ya, you’d sweet-talk her into makin’ ya king in her realm.”

Finan chortled heartily at that, to which Tove could not help but smile slightly herself.

“You flatter me, lass,” Finan said when his laughter died down. “Though, I was only meanin t’ ask if ya were feelin alright after the journey.”

“I am no fragile Saxon maid,” said Tove firmly, but at Finan’s earnest tone, she softened slightly. “I…would thank you for your concern, though.”

“Aye tis no trouble,” Finan said. “And after the way, I saw ya fight on the field I don'na ever think I could mistake ya as one who was fragile. After all…it was my shield ya took in the chest.”

Tove’s eyebrow arched slightly at that.

“Ya looked like a she-devil come to carry me t’ the devil’s gates.” continued Finan with an appreciative grin on his lips. “Couldn’ have been more shocked when ya yielded t’ be honest.”

“That man was Njal.” Tove reminded him in a somewhat solemn tone.

Tove had not been close to Njal, though; he was a decent man. Had she not thought him so, she never would have sworn herself to him, but Njal was fair, just, and generous. Beside that fact, he was a well-accomplished warrior. She had liked him well enough.

“Ahhh…sorry bou’ that lass,” Finan said with a shrug. “He was a hell of a fighter.”

“He was,” Tove agreed, and she was smiling then. “He died well. I will see him in the mead halls of Valhalla.”

Finan only nodded. Whatever he might have said was cut off by the arrival of their comrades with food and drink. They both took their shares thankfully, and everyone dug in. There was much talk and joking around their table as everyone unwound from the journey.

An hour or so into their small feast, Uhtred joined them with an intriguing piece of news. They were all to leave Winchester in three days’ time, but not for Cookham as the men had automatically assumed. Tove, too found herself somewhat perplexed as she had been told Cookham was the steading Lord Uhtred owned in Wessex. Instead, they would be traveling to Lunden, where Lord Uhtred was to be put in charge of the protection and fortification of that city. Word was being sent on to all the household warrior’s families to meet them there. Those who were not part of the household troops would be allowed to return to Cookham to protect that burh if they so choose.

A few drinks after the announcement and some logistics discussion, Uhtred declared he was off to bed for the night. Some of the other men also began to trickle off to their rooms, not long after their Lord. Eventually, it dwindled down to just Finan, Osferth, and Tove at their table.

“Isn’ it past your bedtime, baby monk?” Finan joked.

“Bedtime? Honestly, Finan,” said Osferth with an exasperated look.

Finan looked over to Tove and shrugged as if he thought it was a perfectly reasonable question. She gave a jovial chuckle, but as she did, there was a sudden stab of pain through her side. Tove’s fingers flew to her side unbidden, as her nose crinkled from the sudden discomfort. Both men, who had been laughing with her, immediately stopped to look on with concern.

“Are you alright, Lady?” Osferth asked, brow creased with worry.

“Tis nothing,” she asserted, though the argument was weak as her forehead was still creased in pain. “Just healing pain.”

“Nah lass ya’ve gone pale. Shall I fetch a healer?” Finan’s eyes were on her hand, which laid tenderly against the spot where her ribs were bound.

“No!” Tove snapped.

The two men exchanged looks.

“At least let me help ya t’ your room?” Finan asked.

“Unless you’d prefer, we wake Lord Uhtred?” Osferth put in as if he could sense her imminent refusal.

Tove frowned but relented silently with a small nod. Finan came around to her side of the table and stooped to gently place an arm around her lower back. Helping her to her feet, Finan took much of her weight as though she were little more than feather and began leading Tove up to her assigned quarters. She could not help but grumble slightly as Finan helped her along, but he took it in stride.

“Ya don’na have t’ be a shieldmaiden all the time,” he commented lowly as they reached her room.

Pulling away from him to lean on the door frame, Tove gave Finan a dirty look. She could not help it. The sudden onslaught of pain left the fowl taste of weakness in her mouth. He did not seem to understand; if she was to travel to Lunden, she had to be okay. Otherwise, she would be left behind in this unfriendly city until she was healed enough to do so.

“Will ya at least let me take a look at it?”

There was a long beat of silence between them, during which Tove scrutinized him. Finan’s expression was soft, somewhat concerned, and open. She could see no malintent. Though, after all they had done for her at this point, she felt slightly guilty even looking for it. Finally, she exhaled a labored sigh and nodded in affirmation.

Before Tove could maneuver to open the door herself, Finan had already moved forward to do so though he did step back and allow her inside first. Once inside, Tove plopped herself on the end of the bed. Pausing a moment, she let out another labored breath as she looked up at Finan with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you intend to help me out of this, or shall I struggle on my own?” She gestured vaguely to the leather armor and mail she still wore.

“Well, since ya be askin’ so nicely!” Finan threw her a wink.

Tove snorted.

He seated himself on the bed beside her but did not move to help immediately. Rolling her eyes, Tove pulled the laces to loosen one side of the armor but forewent the other. With its buckles in the back, she need only loosen one side to be able to slip out of it once those were undone, but the pain in her side stopped her from reaching them. After a second of hesitation, Finan shuffled around to get the buckles at the back of her chest piece. In mere seconds they were all swiftly undone. She could not help but snicker softly. The leather slid easily off her shoulders then, and she shrugged it off the rest of the way, tossing it onto the dusty floor.

“It seems they do not lie about your many skills,” Tove teased, inhaling a more resonant and easier breath.

“I’d love to hear what it is they say about me, but perhaps another time?”

“Perhaps,” Tove responded with a slight smirk.

“Now…about that coat…”

“I will have to raise my arms. If you could lift it off?”

Finan nodded. Though she winced, Tove managed to hold her arms above her head long enough for the Irishman to slip the coat over her head. It dragged her linen tunic up some with it as it came off, and Finan saw a brief flash of her bare midriff before the tunic fell back into place. He dropped the mail coat onto the floor beside her chest armor with a slight thud.

He was silent as Tove seemed to take a moment. Her face was again contorted in pain. Breathing was shallow but steady as she calmed herself. When she opened her grey eyes, she found Finan staring intently into them. A strange feeling of calm washed over her, and though she still felt the pain, it was dulled somehow.

Finan was the one who had caused this pain, but he was also the one who had spared her. Yes, Lord Uhtred may have made the final call and have her oath but had Finan not accepted her yield, she would have been dead. He had trusted the truth of her words even in the heat of battle, even not knowing her, and she was being a brat.

“Thank you,” said Tove softly in Danish.

Though his eyebrow rose, Finan said nothing. He did take it as a signal to continue. Sitting again beside her, Finan urged her to lean back onto her elbows, and Tove went along without complaint. He pulled the tunic up on one side until he could see the bandages that had been wound around her injured ribs. A slight frown settled on his lips as he tenderly brushed his fingers along the dressing. She flinched away from the contact.

“When were these last changed?” he asked.

His fingers probed softly at the bandage. Having seen a fair number of injuries in his time, Finan thought he had an idea what the problem was. There was no evidence of blood on the bandage, an exceptionally good sign. He was not surprised as she had worn armor, and it was his shield that hit her, not his sword.

“This morning?” She guessed.

“You’ll have t’ tell me which good fer nothin’ healer done it. Cause I’d wager they wrapped ya too tight,” Finan grumbled. “I’ll need ya t’ sit up.”

She heaved herself back up without question. Tove only hesitated a moment before lifting her tunic to just below her breasts to show the whole of the bandage to Finan. Gentle were his hands as they unwound the wrapping smoothly and efficiently. Once it was removed, there was an instant wave of relief from the pain. Against her will, Tove exhaled a low sigh and flopped back onto the bed, eyes instantly falling shut.

“Well…I don’ think I’ve ever made a lass faint simply by undressin her before,” Finan laughed.

Cracking one eye open, Tove reached out and smacked him hard on the leg.

“Shut up, you cocky bastard,” she snapped in Danish.

Her exclamation, though he did not know what she had said, only made Finan laugh harder. They shared a moment of laughter, which eventually died down. As it did, Finan turned his eyes back to her side.

“I’d leave that unbound tonight, an we’ll fetch ya someone who knows what they’re doin’ in the morning. Yeah?”

She nodded.

I heartily recommend me unto you...

A/N: The Death of Katherine Howard 1117 Words

This is probably highly innaccurate to both the realistic and the musical versions of the thoughts of Katherine Howard, but this was for a class and I needed to cover a couple of things in the story and this was the best way to do it. 

Please don’t send me hate because of the innaccuracies. Again I reiterate, this was for a class. That and I am a very inexperienced 

I heartily recommend me unto you, praying you to send me word how that you do.

 The room was cold and quiet in the morning, as if the atmosphere itself somehow knew what was to come. Katherine couldn’t take her eyes off the block that sat ominously opposite her. She had requested for one the night before, in order to practise resting her head upon it when the time came. Always having the grace of a queen, until the very end.

 It was showed me that you was sick, the which thing troubled me very much till such time that I hear from you praying you to send me word how that you do, for I never longed so much for a thing as I do to see you and to speak with you, the which I trust shall be shortly now.

 Her decadent skirts were still delicately draped around the room. If one hadn’t known of the young queen’s alleged transgressions against the king - her king - then the dresses would have appeared exactly where they were meant to be. Katherine however, was not one such person. She was not the most educated of the king’s previous wives - the likes of Katherine’s cousin Anne Boleyn who befell the same fate that awaited her - but she knew what was coming.

 Katherine wasn’t afraid. Katherine did not want to die, either, but she’d already wailed for her king to have mercy on her, to no avail. The king was nothing if not a stubborn man. There would be no change in his decision. Now, Katherine was resigned to her fate, thinking solely of a him, but not of the king that doomed her.

 That which doth comfortly me very much when I think of it, and when I think again that you shall depart from me again it makes my heart die to think what fortune I have that I cannot be always in your company.

 No other will but his. That had been her queenly motto. Non autre olonte que la sienna. It was awfully ironic, was it not? A queen with a phrase as decided as Katherine’s was, being one for a queen who had so wholly defied the king.

 No other will but his. It could be argued that that was a motto Katherine had followed all her life. No other will but Henry Mannox’s, as he put his hands all over her thirteen year old body. No other will but Francis Dereham’s when called her his wife. No other will but Thomas Culpepper’s when he convinced her to defy the king. No other will but his.

 Yet my trust is always in you that you will be as you have promised me, and in that hope I trust upon still, praying you that you will come when my Lady Rochford is here for then I shall be best at leisure to be at your commandment…

One of her ladies in waiting had come to fetch her and guards followed her to the courtyard. Katherine’s face was cold and decided, not showing a hint of her true feelings. The grace of a queen until the very end. She had expected to feel some sort of fear at this point, but she didn’t. Instead she thought of Mannox, of Dereham of… Culpepper. Every thought she had bounced back to him.

 …thanking you for that you have promised me to be so good unto that poor fellow my man which is one of the griefs that I do feel to depart from him for then I do know no one that I dare trust to send to you, and therefore I pray you take him to be with you that I may sometime hear from you one thing.

 Despite her grace, Katherine was still forcibly pushed upon the block. She tried to look up at her King, but he didn’t dare look at her. Perhaps he didn’t want to see her still so strong despite everything. Or perhaps he truly did care about Katherine.

 No, he didn’t.

 Katherine saw the king’s servants. They were holding containers full of lime juice. The king just wanted to get rid of her. The king didn’t care about her. Katherine didn’t even think he ever did, any more. He wanted to erase her presence from the halls of his castle. The first few tears of the morning sprung to her eyes.

 I pray you to give me a horse for my man for I had much ado to get one and therefore I pray send me one by him and in so doing I am as I said afor…

No, she didn’t want to die. She couldn’t die. She wanted to live and be happy and laugh and raise her children and live old enough to see her children married. She wanted to have ladies styling her hair, and dress her, and have rich feasts and fall asleep in lush blankets and sheets. She wanted long days with her love, and quiet nights with her love, and her love.

 She wanted to live. The reality of her impending death hit her hard. Perhaps it was that she couldn’t truly see the reality of her situation until her head was laid upon that block, but her strength was faltering. Deep down, she knew her punishment was worthy and just of her crime. She’d defied her king, and if this was what was due then she would have to deal with it.

 …and thus I take my leave of you, trusting to see you shortly again and I would you was with me now that you might see what pain I take in writing to you.

 She sat back up with her final ounce of strength. “I beg of you all to have mercy and pray for my soul.” She said, addressing the crowd that had assembled to watch her die. “The punishment for my crime is fair, and I shall not argue with it, however, I die a Queen, but I would rather have died the wife of Culpepper.”

 She heard the king say something, or maybe she just heard him move, but all she knew was her head being once again forced upon the block, and then a loud swishing noise and then, it was over.

 Yours as long as life endures,

 Katherine ________________________________________________________________

There boom, I posted the story.

Feast Your Eyes | k.nj x f.r

Pairing: k.nj x f.r

Genre: n a u g h t y....

Length: 3k

Quick Summary: The sensation it brought you to stare at his delightfully tensing, lean physique through the crack of his door - carelessly left ajar - was more than addictive. 

A/N: First of all, I really have to apologise because this is my first time writing something naughty and so close to smut. I had more planned but I was really unsure about how it would turn out so you could say that this is a little tester. If you guys like it or have any idea of how you want the fic to continue then don’t be afraid to tell me and I’ll get to work on, maybe, a part 2???? 

Constructive critisim is always helpful too as I am still working on my writing style. Thank you! 

Anyway, this was requested by a doll of an Anon. Thank you for the request Dollface, I hope this is to your liking. I apologise for the extended wait. Much love x 

W A R N I N G S: voyeurism, masturbation...nakednessssss...

There it was again...the groans and moans of your roommate - Kim Namjoon. 

This wasn’t the first time you had entered the modest space of your modern apartment, only to be greeted by the sinfully delicious sounds that your sexy, sharp roommate emitted when doing the deed, ‘alone’. You could deem this to be, perhaps, the sixth time already. It wasn’t a general, reoccurring event as those occurrences were spaced out over several months; lengthy weeks stretching the intervals between each one. Personally, you had wished for it to be a more frequent event. Having it be a rare circumstance gave you immoral desires but they can’t be helped. 

The sensation it brought you to stare at his delightfully tensing, lean physique through the crack of his door - carelessly left ajar - was more than addictive. 

‘He’s so beautiful’ was always the first thought that verbalised itself in your clouded mind. Everything else disappears and it’s just you and himhimhim. Biting your lip, you smothered a moan as the male, through the crack of the door, whimpered helplessly under the searing touch of red-hot pleasure. ‘How sexy can he get?’ was your second thought, drinking in the erotic expression he was shamelessly displaying in his demeaning condition. The next thought would be: ‘he’s so big...’ as your eyes made their usual route down, from his bliss-compressed countenance, down his (unfortunately) dressed torso, before greedily devouring the image of his solid member. The tip was a painful, swollen pink colour, supported by an impressive length that strained and pulsed with prominent veins. 

You licked your lips. ‘I wonder what it would feel like to trace those veins with my tongue...’. Sometimes, you couldn’t believe how vulgar your thoughts suddenly became at the sight of him in such a state. Every male would’ve gone through the same thing Namjoon was doing, but you know for a fact that he’s affecting you more than any other man could. It’s no surprise either, you’ve always been acutely aware that you’ve had this adoration towards him ever since the day you met. 

It all started based on his appearance. His hair always looked so much more well kept than yours, like fine, silk strands with the volume of fluffy clouds. Naturally, you would often find yourself wanting to comb your fingers through his mass of dyed locks. The skin he had, stretched over lean (but not over the top) muscles, was blemish free and smooth looking, igniting deep jealousy inside you. It was a serious offence as you are someone that’s constantly battling a moody epidermis; sprouting pimples here, there and everywhere, whenever possible. His eyes were gentle but fierce, his lips plump and kissable, a perfect combination to have for each minor but significant feature. Above all, however, was his voice, the pièce de résistance, so creamy-smooth, and possessing the texture of burnished satin. Subsequently, the two of you spent many times together, and you’ve slowly grown a fondness of his variable personality also: silly yet responsible, witty but also earnest, humorous and ethereal. A whole package that you had all to yourself, but only as a roommate. A fact you scoffed at. 

Were you ever going to get out of such a basic ranking? 

Dismissing that thought, you continued to indulge in the rare, but commonplace act Namjoon (Joonie) was participating in as a pool of stickiness accumulated at the flimsy fabric you had covering your weeping nether-regions. You hoped and wished that the sight would persist without ever ending. Nevertheless, such a fancy for an impossible deed was not permitted and you found yourself sighing in disappointment almost as heavily as your breathing became when ogling the episode that had played out before you. Joonie had met his end soon enough, sighing between laboured breaths upon shooting his load onto the sheets of his single bed. It was over far too soon. 

Suppressing the urge to complain openly, you quietly rushed to the front door in order to make it look as if you had just gotten back.

“I’m home!” you announced after opening and slamming the door from inside. 

“W-Welcome home!” there was a faint kerfuffle from the end of the hallway, tugging a smirk of mischief at your rosy lips as you imagined your sticky roommate scrambling around in order to look presentable. 

“What are you up to?” you hummed with innocent curiosity, already knowing the answer. 

“I’m about to take a shower!” 

“Oh alright! I’m starving so I’m going to cook!” making your way into the kitchen, you rummaged around, finding just about enough ingredients to make two servings of a decent meal, “Want me to make you something too?” 

“That’d be great! Thanks (Y/N)!” 

“No problem Joonie!” 

Saturdays were your respite. You would sleep in, share a large brunch with your coquettish roommate before utilising the rest of day’s hours, whether it be through binge eat whilst indulging in K-dramas, reading a book, getting lost in music and dance or going out with your girls. They were the days where the world was appointed to be your oyster. The former of those activities was a very favoured matter of business between you and Joonie so the two of you would, at least, watch a couple together, even if there was something urgent that either of you would have to do - watching K-dramas in each other’s company was always the most important on Saturdays. 

You’ve wanted to become more productive with your time, however, and had expressed this to Namjoon, who suggested limiting the time spent watching the dramas. 

“What are you going to be doing today?” Namjoon hummed curiously from across the table, he already knew the answer but wondered if you really were planning on doing something else. 

“Hmm...” you stopped for a moment of thought, “I have no idea!” you giggled, already adapting to the careless ambience of the day but leaving you open to your choices, earning a deep chuckle. The smoothness of the sound forced your crossed thighs to clench under the shocks of electricity that dared to strike and heat up your already melting core. It was a horrible habit for your brain to turn his chuckles into laboured moans that instantly generated heat deep within you. 

“You haven't decided whether or not you wanted to follow through with your pledge of productiveness then, huh?.” it was a playful jeer, you knew that but his eyes seemed somewhat predatory as he took a tantalising swig of his black coffee, allowing you to meekly watch; his jugular rocked back and forth upon the vertical length of his thick neck as a seductive gulp penetrated your sensitive hearing. More electrifying pleasure shot through you, sending your body jolting forward and almost hitting the underside of the table with your knee. “Is something wrong?” he quipped a curious brow as a teasing tongue peeked past two soft, rosy rims, lapping at the bitter residue upon the pinkness of his lips. 

“Oh, nothing. I actually just realised what I’ve wanted to do with my time.” you lied with a quivering tongue. 

“And what’s that?” he smiled thinly. 

“Binge eat through K-dramas!” you announce as he laughed heartily, “Care to join me in my new pledge of unproductiveness?” your eyes fluttered playfully in a nonverbal invitation. 

“I’ll have to take care of some things first but I’ll be sure to join you as soon as I can.” 

Suppressing a squeal, you allowed only your eyes to reflect the light of your excitement, “Great! I’ll make sure to get your favourite snacks too when I head out for a quick trip to the corner store, then.”

“Thanks.” 

After finishing up your brunch and helping to wash and dry the dishes, you quickly got ready for a step outside before making your way to the door with your keys and purse, where you announced your leaving. There was a brief, nonchalant response from Namjoon’s room, hinting at his current occupation. A trait you really admire about him - his dedication and smartness.

There were plenty of snacks to choose from when you arrived at your destination but you made sure to get an equal amount of yours and Namjoon’s favourites, landing you with a decent variety of sweet and savoury treats. Grinning to yourself, you rushed to pay for the refreshments piled up high in your arms and raced to your shared apartment, where you began setting everything up, understanding that Namjoon might extend his absence in your day-long session of K-drama watching.

He’s a very dedicated soul and you don’t want to get in between him and his studies, which were - basically - his passions. You still hope for his company as soon as possible though. It’s so much more enjoyable with him at your side; you can have someone to cuddle with for the times when you’d get sad or would genuinely crave the heat of another person. 

Like most of your previous sessions, you were reduced to a sobbing mess at times, brought up to hysterics at others, made fuming angry at particular characters that you hold a passionate hatred towards, whilst also being silently content at cute moments. Despite your enjoyment, however, your gaze would, more often than not, wander past the screen of the TV in order to face the clock hung up high. It’s late, really late, and yet, Namjoon still hadn’t shown up to fulfil his word. Granted, he had stepped out several times, seeking food or any cooling beverages, where you’d offer him a sample of your displayed snacks but that was it. There was a dwindling hope that grew weak inside you, optimising that the light meal you were able to offer the male would lure him out of the confines of his monopolising room. 

As the clock ticked past the latest hour and your final episode for the night came to an end, you began tidying up, throwing away empty packets of plastic and sweeping up stray crumbs. Banishing your dilating dismay at Namjoon’s broken promise, you realised that you needed a bath as you frowned at the settled sweat and dried tears caking your complexion. There was no urgency to wake up early for tomorrow, so you’d be able to wallow in a warm vanilla-scented bubble bath before going to bed and sleeping dreamlessly. 

Humming softly to yourself, you purged your mind of everything that had to do with your roommate, succumbing to a state of passive aggressiveness, and set about preparing your bath. 

As the harsh rapping of lukewarm water pounded against the tub, slowly climbing up the bath’s volume, Namjoon was snapped awake, blinking his eyes with exponential fullness. Coming to his senses and adjusting to his surroundings, curses spitefully clicked his tongue against rows of pearly-white teeth when staring up at the tired clock - ticking away precious seconds, minutes and hours. 

He must’ve fallen asleep when going over his material for the final time. There was a genuine intention in his promise because the K-drama session was made into a ritual between the two of you. It was a practice that you both would participate in (every Saturday) and after months of a constant streak, that you had encouraged and made into a habitual occurrence, he had been the first to break it alongside a promise that he made empty. 

Cautiously stepping into the small living room, Namjoon expected to see you, asleep on the sofa as it was your habit to end up sleeping as a way of concluding the session. Instead, he found the space to be vacant of anything: of you, of store-bought snacks and piled-high CDs. You’re definitely going to be having a grudge against him and he hated that. You were, in some ways, closer to him than any of his other 6 friends and the two of you also live together, it’s only going to be tense and awkward if he doesn’t apologise with absolute validity - which he’s sure he’ll be able to express because he was an authentic man.

With the sound of running water, he had been minorly aware of, the male soon came to the conclusion that you’re probably taking a bath and decided to apologise when you were finished; he didn’t want this to extend into the next day so he’ll wait up for you to finish. 

Slowly dipping into the comforting water, you breathed a sigh and began playing around with the bubbles. Humming filled the air again as you lathered your body - anything to keep your mind from straying out of it’s fixed path of resentment, but you were always thinking of the male, no matter what you did. He had taken over your mind with his cute-ass dimple smile, goddamn velvet voice and his scandalous yet sophisticated demeanour. 

You moaned as wandering hands trailed down your curves to roughly caress your sensitivity. Biting your lip, you imagined his proficient hands replacing your incompetent ones and shamelessly wonder about what magic he’ll be able to cast. Surely, one that matched his unique appeal. Whimpering from your dainty fingers teasingly poking at your entrance, you imagined his dominance and tongue, he’d undoubtedly have you begging from a simple touch and the thought set the deepest pits of your dripping cavern on fire. 

How disgraceful...

Before a hand could curve over and fondle the eminence of your breasts, the angel on your right shoulder took control and went to unplug the tub for several moments, stopping halfway just to refill the bath with cold water. That'll teach you a lesson and keep you from your arousals. The bath wasn’t as enjoyable but, at the very least, you were able to calm down. 

It wasn’t until past midnight that you decided to step out in only a small towel and with your hair up in a turban that was already getting to work on absorbing the unwanted moisture in your hair. 

In a twist of fate, you walked straight into the person you had sworn to distance yourself from. With a shriek of surprise, you jumped back, almost crashing into an antique vase that housed an array of flowers atop an elegant, polished table. Fuelled by adrenaline, Namjoon snatched a hold of your forearm and pulled you into his chest, saving you but resulting in the two of you toppling over and into an immodest position - you hovering above him as your towel-turban came undone.

With baited breath, you stared down at the man you’ve mentally claimed to be the world’s sexiest creature; someone you’ve admired greatly for his success in life; a guy with surprisingly, rather similar interests to your own; someone that you’ve grown disreputable fantasies over and a man that you’re unravelled towel has forced you to show your naked body to. 

“Damn...” he cursed, biting his lip with eyes sinfully wandering soft curves. 

Never has it ever been this awkward between the two of you, even when you found out that you’d have to be roommates in a quaint apartment just at the edge of campus. It was fathomable, the petty inconvenience, but that was a time where you weren’t only shoulder-to-shoulder with vex towards the male’s broken promise but were now attempting to repress the redness of embarrassment that kept trying to dominate the hue of your cheeks. 

“I-I’m sorry about yesterday (Y/N).” he mused with timid sincerity over your plate of breakfast. As much as you’d love to discuss his atypical display of personal defect the previous day, you’d much rather avoid the topic. 

“Y-yeah...” you forced through clenched teeth before getting up and making your way to the door with your body fully dressed for your part-time job. Upon slipping your shoes on, you made your usual announcement: “I’m off.” 

Namjoon stared at the unfinished, barely touched plate of breakfast he had worked so hard in making, your plate and his were practically the same in the unwanted condition of their contents. He wasn’t in the mood to eat unless you were consuming a meal your stomach was usually more than greedy to digest. Who was he to think that you would forgive him over a simple plate of breakfast? He wasn’t even a good cook - the two of you knew that - and upon sampling a bite of what he had made, there was an instant wince at the blandness and odd texture.

“Fuck..me...” he cursed breathlessly, only cursing himself further when he helplessly allowed his mind to have devilish thoughts over last night’ s occurrences. 

Today, you were getting off work early, it was an offer your boss had given you a week ago when praising your high-level of service, at the time, it was an offer you didn’t dare decline but, now, under your current circumstances, you’d much rather not go home. There was nothing for you to do though; your friends were either working or hitting the books. 

...Perhaps Namjoon isn’t at home and maybe he’s at the library studying. 

Remaining sanguine, you slowly made your way home, walking slower than your average walking speed and possibly irritating some people in the process. Fuck them whispering about your slowness. You weren’t in the mood today so they can go suck it. 

When you finally reached your door, you silently stepped inside and crept through the halls whilst whispering out to a person that you’re hoping isn’t there. 

“Namjoon?” you called softly.

“Ahh~” 

This was odd. 

He already had a private session only a few days ago and he was already at it again, usually, he would be sated enough to last several weeks but apparently not this time - you wonder why that is. 

Your mind completely disregarding the events of last night, you made your way through the narrow hall once more ending at Namjoon’s door and your eyes immediately widened at the fact that he had been cautious enough to have the door shut completely. This was very very odd. 

What’s gotten into him?

“(Y-Y/N)~” he panted as your mouth parted in disbelief. “Fuck- baby~AH!”

Never before had the touch of magma slicked your nether lips so- 

Many times you’ve imagined him moaning your name and now that he has, all you want is moremoremore...

Again, if you guys want a part 2 or something, please say something. Or if you have any ideas of what I should happen next, message me! I just might include your fantasies *winkwonk* 

BUT, if you don’t like it then tell me as well - as long as it’s constructive please - just go easy on me; it’s my first smutty-ish fic. 

Thank you Dolls! 

masterlist

The Taming of Thorns - Chapter 2

Pairing: Raymond de Merville / OFC 

Warnings: None as of yet. YET. (insert maniac laugh). 

Enjoy (hopefully)! Feedback is always welcome. :)  Read it on Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13410333/chapters/30881019 

In retrospect, I was foolish and careless. I was determined not to let the invaders ruin our harvest feast, so I made a promise to myself to pretend as if they weren’t there. Not listening to the whispered warnings not to dance so exuberantly, to talk less heartily with the village men.

Nonsense, I told myself. I had always danced, not well but enthusiastically, and I had always talked to everyone openly, be they man or woman. We were in Blackwater, not in the royal courts of distant lands. For most of the evening and long into the night, I actually thought I had gotten away with it.

That changed when I went into the city hall’s storage room for more ale. I should not have gone alone.  

“How suitable your name is, after all.”

I stopped abruptly. I did not like how he made me feel, how his voice could tempt me to believe he was more than just a violent brute. “What?”

His hand on my cheek, travelling down to my throat. “Intoxicating.”

I flinched back, out of Raymond’s reach. He scared me, no matter how hard I tried not to let it show. Too tall, too broad, too violent and harsh. He didn’t belong here and I wanted him gone, but at the same time the knowledge he never would go away easily twisted the knife in my side.

“Your uncle clearly failed in his duties.”

“What? He took good care of Ella and me when our father went to the Holy Land,” I replied indignantly. It was true, more or less – Thomas may not be a great man, but he was not a monster and he had tried to do well. I could not ask for more under the circumstances.

Either way, I was in no mood to have this discussion now, or any day, not with him. I clutched the small barrel of ale tightly in my hands. How had he even gotten here without me hearing him approach? I had not seen him throughout the evening, had dared to hope he did not care for “pagan” feasts. Had he been sitting, watching in the shadows this whole time?  

“He did not get you a husband,” Raymond replied coolly, his eyes on my breasts, my hips. “You are clearly ripe for one.”

He wasn’t the first to make such a remark. Though he was the first one to phrase it so bluntly, so salaciously. “That is for me decide, nobody else,” I muttered. Certainly not by him.  

Suddenly, my wrists were in his grip, the barrel in my arms that had served as a shield crashing to the floor and my body forced to arch against his. “Did you think,” he seethed, “I allowed your pretty sister to be off the hook without some form of recompense?”

No, not like this. I struggled against his hold, trying not to think of the tales I had heard. Of what men could do to women. I did not dare imagine what a man like Raymond could do to a woman like me; any woman, to tell the truth. “My sister was never yours to take in the first place!” I spat and pushed him away with all the strength I could muster. “Neither am I. We are not toys for you to pick up when you like and discard when you’re done with them. Perhaps your French women like it that way – I, for one, do not.”

He looked almost amused as he glared at me. “Wake up, sweetling. The world does not play by your would-be rules. The strongest win, and they take what they will,” he growled. His fingers were tightly woven into my hair, leaving me without leeway to flee. He was no more sober than I was, but the lucidity he displayed nonetheless made him even more terrifying.

“Then why haven’t you taken Jerusalem yet?” I whispered. I cried out when he released me so suddenly I stumbled.

“How could a heathen ever understand?”

“Do you?” I challenged. “Do you even understand? Your compatriots may be devout Christians, but I fail to see the same fervour in you.” My fate was already sealed; it was tied to this man for as long as he remained in Blackwater. I had apparently piqued his interest, for whatever reasons. Why should I not say what was on my mind? There were few things he could do to me that were worse than what I was already living through. Rather he brutalised me than my sister. That was my only goal now: Keep Ella away from them, keep her safe.  

“I have given enough for God,” he seethed. “I certainly don’t need to be lectured by a heathen girl like you.”

“I didn’t invite you to follow me,” I growled.

He looked at me again, and it reminded me of a wolf who had caught sight of delectable prey. “Oh, but you did, Maeve.” Suddenly he was too close to me again, one hand on my hip while the other took my chin firmly and forced me to look up at him. “The way you danced tonight… made it all too clear you wanted this.”

“What?” My exclamation was close to a screech. I pushed hard against his chest, managing to at least get a breath of distance between us. “I dance how I please, not to please others. Let alone to invite… to invite this!” What did he think I was? Desperate? Property? Shameless? All of it?

“Maeve?”

I used Raymond’s split second of distraction to break free from his hold, just as William came in. Frowning at the scene before him, he slowly asked: “I just wanted to see… if you’re okay? We’re getting thirsty out there.”

Dear, sweet Will. He would never stand a chance against Raymond, but in this moment, he was the saviour I needed. My heart pounded loudly in my chest. “Sorry, Will – I got interrupted,” I added sharply as I picked up the ale and followed William out before the situation could escalate.

Back at the fire, I released the breath I had been holding. But I could not shake the feeling of Raymond’s gaze, his hands upon me. They haunted me even as I lay in bed.

#

For days, I dreaded leaving the house just for fear of seeing him, being alone with him. When nothing happened, I relaxed and went about my usual business.

Foolish, again. I had forfeited every right to call myself independent and smart. It took all of three days for the summons to come to our house. Asking – demanding – me to visit him. Supposedly because of the way I handled the distribution of corn. I suspected other motives.

“You wanted to see me?” I said tensely. Why was I asked, commanded, to be here? I was not the leader of this town. Politically or elsewise, I had nothing to offer. Certainly Raymond de Merville cared nothing for corn.

“Yes. Sit.”

I could have rebelled, could have refused. I decided to save my energy.

“Tell me about this town.”

I blinked in confusion. He sounded calm, almost interested. As if he had not forcefully made Blackwater his home and stationed his army of brutes outside our doorstep. “There is nothing to tell. It is a town, like so many others.” I would not spy for him, if that was what he was after.

“Certainly there is more to it.” That dangerous edge had returned to his voice, hidden by the deep baritone of his, but it was no less sharp for it. “This is Gaelic land, yet an English town is allowed to prosper, to be at peace. One might think you had a deal with the Gaelic heathens.”

“Not everyone tries to make a home by coming in, swords blazing and threatening every breathing soul. Some do try the diplomatic way, by talks and truces. Cooperation,” I added, knowing this might be dangerous. “We do not invade on their land, and they let us be. That is the only deal we have with them.” I was stretching the truth, and omitting quite a few facts completely. Raymond de Merville was in no way entitled to knowing them.

He sat down opposite me and waved at someone behind me. “Is that so.” Disbelief, veiled as its mocking opposite. I would have to try harder, if I wanted to be left standing by the time this game was done.

A plate of food was placed before me, next to a goblet generously filled with wine. I looked up, confused – was I to be his taster now, make sure nobody would poison him? I was tempted to poison it myself. “Eat,” Raymond ordered instead as another plate and goblet were put before him.

“I don’t-“

“Eat,” he repeated. “Allow me the indulgence of your company.” Blue eyes sparkling with mockery, and something darker.

“If it is company you seek,” I began hesitantly, “there are better choices.” What would ‘company’ even mean? This man made me uneasy, scared me even, yet my sinful pride would not allow me to do the sensible thing and back down. To disappear into the shadows and become invisible to him.

“That is for me to decide.”

It sounded final. With a sigh, I picked up my cutlery. It shamed me to admit it, but I was hungry and the food smelt good. I haven’t had wine in… years, I think. I hadn’t liked the taste then, but now it tasted like heaven. I couldn’t think about what Raymond might demand as payment for this dinner – it would have turned the delicacies to ashes in my mouth. I wasn’t worried about poison. If he wanted me dead, all he had to do was lift his sword.              

No, I worried about the demands. The feeling of entitlement, which he already possessed in abundance. If all it took for him was a village dance for him to think I was asking for male company at night, I dreaded to think what he might make of us dining together.

Lest you judge me, bear in mind that these were hard days, and the food before me was more luxurious than I had ever seen, smelled or tasted. Would I sell my body for it? No. Once again, I deluded myself by telling the rational part of me that my body had not been asked for in exchange.

Of course it hadn’t been, I realised later. Raymond de Merville didn’t trade. He took, and if he was feeling generous, you got something out of it, too. If.

Catholic Daily Reading + Reflection: 8 December 2020 - Immaculate Conception

Readings at Mass for Tuesday December 8, 2020

Second Week of Advent Year B Vestment: White Today’s Rosary: The Sorrowful Mystery

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY Solemnity:

This solemnity celebrates Mary as the virgin who is “full of grace,” as the archangel Gabriel said at the annunciation. From earliest times the Church expressed and developed the belief that Mary was conceived without original sin, but it was only in 1854 that Pope Pius IX proclaimed it a dogma. We give thanks to God for having chosen the Blessed Virgin Mary as the mother of the Lord, and our mother, and having preserved her from sin.

Theme of the Feast: 

Mary Is the Sign of Victory over the Serpent. Mary is only a creature; she is and has nothing herself. All she is, she is by the power of the Almighty “and holy is his name” (Lk1:49). This is why the Gospel passage describes her as “favoured one,” full of grace, the same fullness of grace that God is ready to grant to each one of us.

Entrance Antiphon Is 61:10

I rejoice heartily in the Lord, in my God is the joy of my soul; For he has clothed me with a robe of salvation, and wrapped me in a mantle of justice, like a bride adorned with her jewels.

Collect

O God, who by the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin prepared a worthy dwelling for your Son, grant, we pray, that, as you preserved her from every stain by virtue of the Death of your Son, which you foresaw, so, through her intercession, we, too, may be cleansed and admitted to your presence. Through our Lord. .

FIRST READING

“I will put enmity between your seed and her seed.” A reading from the Book of Genesis (Genesis 3:9-15.20) [After Adam had eaten of the tree,] the Lord God called to him and said, “Where are you?” And he said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” The man said, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree, and I ate.” Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent beguiled me, and I ate.” The Lord God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this, cursed are you above all cattle, and above all wild animals; upon your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life. I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” The man called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living. The word of the Lord.

RESPONSORIAL PSALM Psalm 98:1.2-3ab.3cd-4 (R. lab)

R/. O sing a new song to the Lord, for he has worked wonders. O sing a new song to the Lord, For he has worked wonders. His right hand and his holy arm  have brought salvation. R. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); The Lord has made known his salvation, has shown his deliverance to the nations. He has remembered his merciful love and his truth for the house of Israel. R. All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God. Shout to the Lord, all the earth;  break forth into joyous song, and sing out your praise. R.

SECOND READING

”God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world.” A reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Ephesians (Ephesians 1:3-6.11-12) Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. He destined us in love to be his sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace which he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. In him, according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to the counsel of his will, we who first hoped in Christ have been destined and appointed to live for the praise of his glory. The word of the Lord.

ALLELUIA Cf. Luke 1:28

Alleluia. Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women. Alleluia.

GOSPEL

“Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you.” A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke (Luke 1:26b-38) At that time: The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you!” But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and considered in her mind what sort of greeting this might be. And the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there will be no end.” And Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I know not man?” And the angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God. And behold, your kinswoman Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren. For with God nothing will be impossible.” And Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her. The Gospel of the Lord.

Today's Reflection

In our celebration of the immaculate conception of Mary, the focus is on God who preserved Mary from Original Sin. The greeting of the angel to Mary, “Hail, full of grace” (LK 1:28) is an indication of that. Adam and Eve were created in precisely that state of grace (cf Gen 1:31), but by the abuse of their free will, they fell out of that grace. Mary on the other hand chose to cooperate with God (Lk 1:38). We too can choose either to cooperate with God and strive after holiness in life or remain and perish in sin. That decision is for everyone to make individually. May the spirit of God inspire and sustain in you, the decision to follow him faithfully in holiness of life. Amen (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

Personal Devotional

Let us pray meditativelly and praise God in the words of Mary: “My soul now glorifies, the Lord who is my saviour, rejoice for who am I, that God has shown me favour, the world shall call me blessed, and ponder on my story, in me God manifest His greatness and His glory. For those who are His friends and keep his laws most holy, his mercy never ends, and He exalts the lowly. But by his power, the great, the proud, the self-conceited, the kings who sit in state, are humbled and defeated. He feeds the starving poor, he guides his holy nation, fulfilling what he swore, long since in revelation. Glorify with me, the Lord who is my Saviour, one Holy Trinity, forever and forever.

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

Follow us on social media: Facebook: @hottestnaijadotcom Twitter: @wherehot Instagram: @hottest9jablog Disclaimer: This post contains links by our advertisers. Presence of such links does not warrant endorsements by HottestNaija. Your use of their services, is subject to their terms of service. Click here to take a look at our posts on gospel music download or click this link to see all posts that include gospel music lyrics You may also like our gospel worship songs page which contains, the best, coolest and hottest Nigerian Gospel Songs, and Foreign Gospel Songs. Whatsoever is the mood, we've got you covered. Do you feel like dancing, rejoicing, shouting, screaming, or you're filled with jubilation because of the Mighty things the Lord has done? Then look no further, cos our gospel praise songs page, containing the hottest Nigerian and foreign praise songs collection, was prepared specifically for you. Peradventure you need the lyrics of the songs you are downloading now, just downloaded, or have downloaded before, our lyrics page is the best place to look. What more could be more helpful and entertaining than seeing the lyrics of your most favourite song before you, as the music unfolds unto the climax. Hey we've been there before, and still encounter it from time to time when the vocals get lost in the cloud of heavy orchestration. Are You a Classical Music lover, our classical music page, contains the best of classical songs, composed and written by composers like G. F Handel, Bach, Joseph Haydn, etc. As you listen to your best gospel song, you may also want to get some more insight and knowledge about the word of God, from eBooks written by God's servants, or you may want to learn something new or build yourself up in some way. Then our eBook Page is the right place to look. You may be in need of entertainment, and probably want to watch a video too. We understand that as well. You can get entertaining music videos from our videos page.

Leaving Home pt 5

@life-is-righteous

Dori’s leaving

word count: 3k

Dori could have sworn she saw Nori’s distinctive peaks when she went to the market to buy something for their supper, but she shook off the thought. Nori had not come back once these past few years, leaving no word with the ragamuffins that used to come to her backdoor with his presents. Dori had learned a long time ago not to speak to Nori’s delivery boys, though they would usually accept a token of food for the delivery.

She regretted their last fight, five years earlier, and she missed her little brother, her mithril-heart, that bright spark of mischief that Nori had always had, able to make her laugh even when Amad was dying, only holding on for Ori’s sake. Dori sometimes wondered if it had not been better for Arnóra to have died with less suffering, even if it would have stolen her mother at least six years earlier. She chastised herself for the thought, but she still felt – even if she now realised that Nori’s current lifestyle had always been nigh inevitable – that if Arnóra had died earlier, Nori might not have come to the Guard’s attention quite so soon. That was wishful thinking, she knew, because Nori had told her that their father, under the name Radulf, had taken him on as a protégé many years before Arnóra’s lungs, damaged by the smoke from Smaug’s fire and further harmed by the coal dust from the mines where she worked, had begun to fail her. Sometimes, Dori had envied Nori the time spent with Natfari, whom she had rarely seen herself, but at the same time, she had been aware of the danger his presence posed to their lives. Natfari was always careful, entering their little house quietly, and never in the same disguise, but her Adad did not have the same life as he had enjoyed in Erebor, spending enough time in Guard rotations that he could be home at least every third night.

Dori remembered the day the dragon had attacked, shortly before the Forge Day Feast, when it had been permitted for parents to bring their children to work, to show them what they did for a living. She had begged for WEEKS before Natfari had agreed to bring her with him on Guard duty, having already spent many hours in her Amad’s wire-weaving workshop. When the fire and smoke clouded the hallways, she had been ripped away from Natfári’s hand, but someone she didn’t know had picked her up along with another little girl and carried her out of the inferno and made sure she was fed. Dori had not known at the time that Princess Frís had been her saviour, something she had only realised upon meeting the princess as an almost-adult in Ered Luin. By then, she had been used to hiding her femininity, having learned early on that it was far easier to avoid trouble with Men if they though she was male. Her mother had wept, as they re-stitched clothes to hide Dori’s bust and give her a more masculine shape. The beard alone might have fooled them, but she did not want to give away her identity to other Dwarrow either, and so Dori, daughter of Natfari, had become Dori, First Son of Arnóra.

By now, braiding her hair as a male was second nature to Dori, and she was quite content never to have felt the Longing, because trying to explain her complicated relationship with her own gender would have been more than troublesome. The Sons of Arnóra were fairly well-known, by now, with Ori making himself a name under Master Balin’s tutelage – for which Dori was grateful to her father, towards whom her feelings were even more tangled than towards her brother – and Dori herself had done well as a tailor and lace-maker, especially since she had met Princess Dís. Dís was one of the only ones who knew her true gender, but Dori knew that her friend would take the secret to her grave if need be. Dís had not liked that Dori felt she needed to hide, and sometimes she had invited her to the Royal house while her ‘boys’ – Dwalin, Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, and Balin – were out, in order to let Dori have a safe place to be feminine and pretty. Of course, Dori was always pretty, widely considered the most beautiful Dwarf in Ered Luin, and many had lamented the fact that such beauty was wasted on a male who had no interest in suitors. Dori had giggled when Dís brought her that bit of gossip, delivered in the Princess’ driest tones, but with her eyes showing her mirth.

 When she got home, having shaken off her musings on the past and almost forgotten the possible sighting of Nori, she had received the first shock of the day.

Nori was in her kitchen. Dori dropped her parcels with a shriek, her hands flying to her mouth, but Nori handily grabbed her bags and put them on the table.

“Nori…” Dori had not known what to say, and Nori had simply stood there, looking as though he was unsure whether he should have come. In two steps, Dori had reached him, pulling him into the tightest hug she had ever given him. “You’re alive!” as Nori’s arms hesitantly wrapped around her, Dori inhaled his familiar scent, a mix of leather, mineral oil and something herbal that always clung to his hair.

“Hello, Dori.” When he tried to give her one of his unrepentant grins, Dori had snapped. She had punched him in the stomach, hard enough to make him winded, before she had found her words.

“FIVE YEARS, NORI! FIVE YEARS AND NOT A SINGLE WORD!” She shouted, and she DID NOT care if all of Granite Way could hear her. “YOU COULD HAVE BEEN HURT! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN DEAD!” her breath hitched, but her glare kept Nori seated, looking like he had as a Dwarfling when she berated him for getting in trouble with the Guard. “You could have been dead, Nori, and we would never have known what happened to you!” Dori’s voice lowered to a whisper, a broken sob on her next words, “Nori, you could have been just like Adad, just never coming home…” Dori crumbled. She was surprised when Nori caught her, sliding to the ground with her as he let her sob into his shoulder, stroking her braids gently. Dori’s anger calmed slowly.

Nori had made a pot of tea, just the way she liked it, and silently pushed her cup towards her. Dori’s hands shook, but she lifted the cup and sipped her tea, staring at him in total silence. Nori looked skinny – but Nori always looked skinny – and slightly haggard, as though he had spent months on the road with little rest. Dori winced, but she did not apologise for hitting him, and Nori gave her that smile that meant he knew he had earned her ire and deserved everything she threw at him.

“I’m sorry, Dori.” Nori eventually broke the silence, tracing the edge of his own empty cup with a finger that had a slightly crooked look to it, as if it had been broken and set by someone with little experience. It had not looked like that the last time he was home, Dori was sure. She reached out, covering his hand with hers and stilled its slightly twitchy movement.

“I know, Nori. I’m sorry, too.” Neither of them needed to say more, and when Dori knocked her forehead against Nori’s, he gave her a soft smile and caught her up in a proper kin-blessing. Dori’s shoulders lost the last vestiges of tension, at least until Nori spoke once more.

“I came to say proper goodbye, sister,” his voice was hoarse with unconcealed emotion and Dori stiffened once more.

“What’s wrong, Nori?” she searched his face frantically, but Nori just sighed and pulled her back to rest her head against his.

“I am going on the Quest for Erebor along with the King, Dori.” Dori’s second shock of the day was even more devastating than the first, but her first reaction, a vehement denial, died on her lips when she saw the look in Nori’s eyes.

“Please, Nori.” She begged, “Please, don’t do this.” She knew his answer before he voiced it, however, and just caught him up in a wordless hug. “Thank you for coming back to tell me,” she whispered, her heart breaking into tiny pieces.

“You’ll be good, Dori. Ori will take care of you, and I’ll do my very best to come back to you,” Nori swore. Dori almost believed that he would – in fact – return to her, but she knew her brother well enough to know that even if he used every trick in the book, he was going up against a dragon – not to mention all the dangers he might find on the road between here and Erebor – and she knew that this was his goodbye. Nori did not expect to live long enough to see her again once he left, and Dori knew it.

“I’ll help you pack,” she whispered, and it was a declaration of love. Nori hugged her tighter. When he finally let go, they both wiped away tears, but Nori’s crooked smile had returned.

That’s when Ori entered the house, like a harbinger of doom, and delivered the third shock of Dori’s day:

“Master Balin is going with Uzbad Thorin to Erebor!” he exclaimed, glowing with pure excitement. “I’ve already signed up; I’ll be appointed official scribe! Master Balin says I can earn my Mastery writing the official account of the Quest!” Dori froze. Nori sent a despairing glance towards her, but Dori was speechless in the face of Ori’s excitement. “Nori’s here!?” the journeyman scribe exclaimed, hugging the Thief tightly. Dori screamed.

 When she had yelled herself hoarse, with unexpected but heartily welcome support from Nori’s impressive collection of curses, Dori looked at her brothers, feeling her heart break as surely as a glass orb under a smith’s hammer. “You can’t both leave me behind to wait for news, Nori,” Dori said, dashing away the tears she would not shed. “I expect it from you, but you can take care of yourself, I know. But Ori… please, Ori, don’t go get yourself killed like this too.” Looking at Nori, who – in a rare unguarded moment – gave her the smile he had always saved especially for her as a Dwarfling, her efforts were in wain. The tears began falling, and the next thing she felt was Nori’s slim arms wrap around her as he whispered soft Khuzdul into her ear. On her other side, Ori – who was right that he was an adult, she knew, but that didn’t stop her seeing the Dwarfling she had raised almost as if he had been her child – joined the hug. The three children of Arnóra spent the night curled around each other, looking for some sort of comfort.

 Three weeks later, Dori was signed up as the Quest’s jack-of-all-trades, strongly backed by Dís, who had given her a teary hug when Dori had come seeking her advice and realised that she had only one option, and surprisingly Dwalin. Dori was sad to leave her friend behind, but Dís had all but told her to go with her brothers, and Dori felt grateful to have such an understanding friend.

 The Present:

Dori looked over the three packs that littered her kitchen table. Nori’s, a little worn from use, but with so many extra pockets and other useful things stitched into the seams that she would never even suggest he replaced it, Ori’s, which was brand-new, and her own, by far the bulkiest. Sometimes, it was good to have her strength, Dori knew, and she had caught the grateful flash in Dwalin’s eyes when she had signed on. The big warrior had met her through Nori, of course, but Dwalin had only challenged her to an arm wrestle once. Nori had suggested it, a drunken wager going round the table of the inn they found themselves in, and Dori had earned the moniker ‘The Strongest Dwarf in Ered Luin’ with as little apparent effort as when she lifted her mug of ale. She smirked at the thought of the look on the Shumrozbid’s face; flabbergasted had been putting it mildly, but she had earned a new kind of respect from Dwalin thereafter. With a sigh, Dori turned her attention to their saddlebags, counting off her completed tasks on her fingers.

She had decided to stitch a supply of gold wire-thread – her mother had been a canny Dwarrowdam, and she had known many things that had been useful when they lived on the surface – into their clothes seams, so they would have money, even if they lost their packs. Most of their food would be in the saddlebags, but she made sure to stuff a bundle of oilcloth-wrapped cram into the bottom of each pack, on the basis that the ponies might run off with their saddlebags.

They’d each have a small blade – Nori had obtained these, and Dori knew better than to ask where he had found three blades of exquisite quality on such short notice – strapped to their belts, which had more holes than necessary, in order to be cinched in when they lost weight on the journey. Dori had been stuffing all three of them full of the richest foods she could get her hands on since they had decided to go, and even Nori now had a small layer of extra padding around his middle.

Dori had – at the urging of Dís – asked young Prince Kíli to help her create extra pockets in her own and Ori’s boots. Nori’s already had such, each boot carrying two small blades cleverly hidden in invisible pockets. The Prince had been so excited about the idea that he had promptly added more pockets to his own and Prince Fíli’s boots. King Thorin had already been gone by then, but Dori would not be surprised if Masters Dwalin and Balin also sported boot pockets when they all met up in the Shire.

All their cloaks had been treated against the weather, and lined with a layer of silk Dori had once bought from a merchant and then never had opportunity to use. The silk would ensure that the cloaks were warm in the cold but not overly hot when the sun shone, and Dori had noticed that Nori had stitched superstitious luck-knots and old traveller’s blessings along the hems. The thought made her smile, an old habit of their mother’s carried on in Nori’s fine stitches. He had learned the knot-language from Natfari, Dori was sure, and she still had some of the frankly beautiful knots he had tied when he was still learning. She had one that spelled her name, with each knot meaning beautiful sister, and it had hung over her bed for many years.

When the packs were as organised as she could make them, Dori turned her attention to that night’s supper and the morning’s breakfast. She had set aside the whole day to get them all ready, handing the key to her shop to Dís for safe-keeping the day before and saying her goodbyes to her neighbours and few friends.

When Ori got home – the lad had been adamant that he would finish his current project and bring the payment along on the quest against unforeseen events as he had called it – Dori was almost done cooking. They waited for Nori to make an appearance, but when it was an hour after normal suppertime, Dori tersely ordered Ori to eat. Her own stomach was in knots, and she could not stop herself from listening for the door – a rather useless occupation, as Nori always oiled all hinges when he came around and could move as quietly as a cat – but Dori tried to eat anyway. When they were done, she was grateful when Ori escaped to his own room, leaving her to fret by herself. Her baby brother needed a good night’s sleep. Dori did not, or perhaps could not, think of Ori without seeing his excitable Dwarfling face superimposed over his adult face, and he would always be her baby brother, even when he woke in Itdendûm and got to meet their father for the first time. When Dori finally went to bed, far later than she had planned, she did not think she could sleep, but sleep found her with surprising speed.

When Dori woke, the first thing she did was check on Nori. She had not heard him come in – a surprise, considering the stench of alcohol that drifted from his very skin as well as the fact that he was accompanied by Bofur, who had probably never even heard the word stealth – and her relief mingled with fury until she was yelling at the two delinquents at the top of her lungs.

Eventually, Dori took pity on them, both dwarrow looking more than a little abashed and definitely hung-over. With a final scoff of contempt, Dori granted them each a token of her mercy: a cup of her secret hangover cure, which made Bofur call her many flattering things and apologise profusely for his drunken state. Nori simply sipped in silence, and ushered the miner out the door with a raised eyebrow at Dori, who huffed, cuffing him gently round the head. Nori grinned, tossing back the rest of his cup and began to check the gear she had packed.

They were delayed by several hours, but Dori knew they could make up the time on the road so she didn’t worry. Nori was – by far – the most travelled Dwarf of all the Company, she knew, and felt surprisingly good about their leaving Ered Luin. Waving back at her neighbours, Dori set off into the sunlight with a slight smile.

Full series on Ao3!

An Affordable Winter Festivus For All (An AnY X-Mas Fic)

Dearest @uta-chan-meganekko I am SO SORRY that your gift is late, but as they say, MERRY BELATED CHRISTMAS AND SORRY SORRY SORRY (ok, so that might not be an actual saying, but I am still really sorry). 

The prompts you gave me were: 

Hak x Yona Zeno x Kaya Any and all HHB brotps (including Yoon and Hak) Kija x Jae-Ha is fine too! Just Yona and the HHB Shenanigans Angst/Fluff/Humor everything goes I don't mind nsfw, but it isn't something I particularly request for, here

I tried to combine a bit of everything and ended up with a group fic with general interaction between everyone and a healthy dose of Hak x Yona. I hope you enjoy (again, sorry, sorry, sorry and I sincerely hope you enjoy!) 

Very Bestest Wishes for the New Year! 

CharlieChaplin2 (of Akatsukinoawesome)

Title: An Affordable Winter Festivus For All (or an AnY Christmas Fic).

Characters: Yona, Hak, Yun, Kija, Jae Ha, Shin Ah, Squirrel Ao, Zeno.

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Author’s Notes: Written for the @akayonagiftexchange (thank you for organising this and having patience with me!). Manga compliant. Full of fluff. This is the fluffiest of fluff to have ever fluffed. Enjoy! 

“Do you think it'll have a lot of bugs in there?”

The trepidation in Kija’s voice was clear even though his stomach growled loudly enough to nearly drown out his question. Jae Ha grinned but otherwise ignored the noise, saving the Hakuryuu from further embarrassment. To be fair, they were all ravenous after their long day spent climbing up the steepest part of the mountain path, but fortunately their efforts had paid off: just like Yun’s excellent map reading skills had promised, they were about to arrive at a cozy (but suitably large) cave which would do nicely as a shelter for the night.

“Would you rather sleep outside in this freezing cold, White Snake?”

Despite knowing he was being teased it was obvious that Kija was actually considering it as an option. “Once we get a fire going there won't be any need to worry, it’ll chase any bugs away,” Jae Ha offered by way of reassurance.

Hak was having too much fun, however, to let it go. “No it won't,” he said, “creepy crawlers are attracted to heat and light. If anything, more will come towards us.You don't need to worry, though, I'll be happy to protect you through the night in exchange for your portion of dinner.”

“Stop frightening him, Hak.” In spite of her attempt to hide it, Jae Ha could hear the exasperation in Yona’s voice - a sure sign she was also very tired and hungry. He guessed it was that, more than what she actually said which made Hak stop his teasing. “Kija, if you sleep outside you'll catch a cold,” she said as she pulled her cloak closer, “besides, since they'll be so many of us moving around we'll be the ones frightening the bugs, they'll go into hiding and won't bother us. You’ll be perfectly safe in the cave, I promise.”

“Thank you, Princess.” Kija turned to the Thunder Beast and gave him a look of smug triumph. “And while I thank you for the offer, Hak,” he said sarcastically, “I can protect myself just fine. You keep away from my food.”

Hak shrugged. “I was only offering my services, and at a discounted rate for a friend, too.”

“None of you will get dinner if you don't hurry up!” Yun called out from a little further up the mountain road, the Seiryuu and Ouryuu standing on either side of him. “Shin Ah says we’re almost there but it's getting dark quickly.”

Jae Ha’s own stomach rumbled in protest at the thought of going the night without food. “Best we pick up the pace,” he suggested to the other three, “before we upset mother too much.”

“I heard that!”

“He's got ears as keen as a falcon’s eyes, that one,” he grumbled. Yona chuckled lightly, her mood lifted since they were so close to their destination. He couldn't help feeling pleased at having made her smile and it nearly made him roll his eyes at himself. I'm almost as bad as Hak, he thought, go away, dragon blood, leave my poor heart in peace. As per usual, though, it wasn't listening.

~*~

Immediately upon arrival at their new site, and despite the overall fatigue of the group, everyone fell into a well-practiced routine as they each did their part to make camp. As per usual Yun was the one preparing dinner and once the food had been made ready everyone formed an orderly queue… if by ‘formed an orderly queue’ Jae Ha actually meant that while Zeno and Kija bickered and fought between themselves to snag the first bowlful of stew from the pot, Yona had tried to sneak past them, only to be caught by Hak (which started an additional kerfuffle on a whole other level). In the end, whilst everyone was fighting over who was hungriest/oldest/had most seniority, it was Shin Ah who managed to get first dibs on the food… it’s always the quiet ones, Jae Ha thought to himself. Being the big brother and knowing that bickering over dinner was unattractive, he’d stayed out of it, surveying it all instead from his spot next to his sleeping mat. He might have been last to eat, but watching his pseudo-family interacting with each other with such normalcy and comfort was more than worth it.

The only thing that was out of place was the fact that Yun wasn’t telling them off as loudly as usual. Jae Ha might have been hungry, but an empty belly hadn’t dulled his senses. He made a note to ask Yun about it when they were alone but Yona beat him to the punch and spoke to him while everyone was still eating around the campfire.

“Yun, is everything alright? You seem a little… contemplative tonight.” Her voice echoed louder than she intended it to in the cave and drew the attention of the others.

Jae Ha’s sharp, violet eyes flicked over to the boy, curious to see if he would open up.

Yun stopped munching on the wild herbs he was eating and to Jae Ha’s surprise, he looked a little sheepish. “Well, the famous Kouka tradition of Winter Festivus is coming-”

“Ah, my favorite holiday!” Kija sighed, interrupting. “I’d almost forgotten it’s that time of year. Granny will be busy supervising the decorating of the village right about now. There’ll be presents for everyone, warms fires, plenty of feasting, fireworks and sweet drinks!”

Yona heartily agreed with him. “Winter Festivus was so much fun at the palace, we had the best food and games! Father would open up the palace doors for the whole kingdom and finding gifts for everyone was so much fun!” She laughed, revelling in her memories. “Mundok used to dress up as Mr Festivus and give all the children gifts. Do you remember, Hak?” Her eyes creased with nostalgia at the corners. “He used to chase after you when you tried to sneak a peek from his sack!”

Hak unconsciously rubbed at the back of his head, her infectious grin spreading easily to him. “Sometimes he actually caught me, too.”

“Ik-Soo used to pretend Mr Festivus came to leave me a gift in the night,” Yun piped up, that false irritability ever present whenever he spoke about the priest, “but I never fell for it. It was so obvious it was him,” he said, “but I would pretend not to know because it made him so happy.”

“You must miss him,” Yona said kindly, “and I'm sure he misses you, too.”

Yun waved it off. “Bah, since he's on his own he'll probably go visit the mountain shrine. Lots of people from the region travel there for Winter Festivus, they'll be plenty for him to do to in order to help set everything up for the influx of holiday tourists…” he said, deliberately dodging Yona’s point, “although he'll probably cause the other priests more harm than good,” he added in a low mumble.

“I'm sure he'll be fine. And between all the food preparation, decorating, music and fireworks, Ik-Soo will likely have a great Winter Festivus holiday,” Yona reassured him.

Shin Ah’s face lit up under the mask as he listened, imagining all the events which supposedly took place during the celebration. “It sounds nice.”

Kija turned to the Seiryuu, aghast at the implication. “Don't tell me you've never celebrated a Festivus before?”

Shin Ah sat momentarily paralysed, his spoon halfway to his mouth, as if worried he'd somehow given an incorrect answer, and then shyly shook his head. Ao stopped sipping broth from his bowl to mimic him.

“That's terrible!” exclaimed Zeno, his voice echoing loudly within their cave. “We’ll have to throw a Festivus celebration so you can experience it! Zeno loves celebrations.”

Yun’s initial frown had returned. “As I was trying to say before I was interrupted, Winter Festivus is coming up and, well… we’re all dirt poor.”

“That's not new information, Yun-kun, why does it bother you now?” Jae Ha asked.

“Well,” Yun sat up a little taller, evidently proud of his potential new idea, “I've come up with a plan - a way for all of us to celebrate the holiday together in an affordable manner.”

“You never let us down, such a good mother,” Jae Ha teased, seeing the boy was already looking happier.

“Watch it, you exotic leg-beast, or I won't let you take seconds.”

Jae Ha feigned being being distraught. “I take it all back, then. What's your plan, bishi-Yun?”

“We’ll pull names out of a pot. Whoever you get, that's the only person you'll get a gift for. The only person.” He looked specifically at Hak and Yona. “No extra gifts for anyone, got it? That way we’ll all get presents and it'll still be fair and cheap.”

“That sounds like fun!” Yona beamed as a thought occurred to her.  “Do you think when we pull out the name of the person we’re buying the gift for we keep that name a secret until Winter Festivus Day?”

Yun shrugged. “Sure, if you think it'll make it more interesting.”

“Yay!” Zeno threw his arms out in celebration “Seiryuu gets to experience his first Winter Festivus and Zeno will get a present! This is going to be great!”

Simply because Zeno was doing it, Shin Ah raised his arms out, too. “Yay,” he said in his soft voice and smiled, tentatively excited at the prospect of his first Festivus.  

“I'll write everyone’s names down and put them in a pot.”

“Not you, Droopy Eyes,” Hak warned. “I don't trust you to put your own name in only once.”

“Fufu, how mean, Hak.” Jae Ha pretended to pout.

“You can try and look cute all you like, but you're not my type so it won't work.”

The Ryokuryuu’s eyes lit up like stars. “You think I'm so cute when I pout that you tease me deliberately? Oh, Hak-kun…”

Hak sighed. “That’s… that's not what I said.”

“I’ll get the pot ready with everyone’s names,” volunteered Yun, “once we finish dinner.”  

He was rewarded with a chorus of “Thank you, mother!”

“I don't remember raising any of you as children!”

~*~

On the day of Winter Festivus they'd spent the morning and afternoon in the town taking in all the sights and sounds and smells the holiday had to offer them. They ate too many sweets, (some of them) drank a little too much and they spent as much money as they had on games (sometimes even winning little prizes). Shin Ah’s cheeks ached from smiling so much, more exhilarated than frightened at all the hustle and bustle. Zeno got lost in the crowd on more than one occasion and for a while Jae Ha was somehow roped into acting as a substitute for a band whose flute player was ill. For an hour or so Yun even set up shop and sold a few medicinal herbs (and what he marketed as ‘hunky beast’ hugs, building on previous experience and exploiting not just Hak, but Kija and Jae Ha as well), although he guarded the money he earned from that business venture tightly, staunchly refusing to allow the others to waste any of it at the Festival.

As the afternoon dragged on and the sensations began to overwhelm them all a little, they agreed to return to their inn until the fireworks began at night. They’d rented two rooms (a small one for Yun and Yona, and a much larger one for the others), and gathered in the bigger of the two for the highly anticipated exchange of their Winter Festivus gifts.

They all sat in a circle, their presents hidden behind their backs as they gleefully tried to spy on one another, each of them brimming with anticipation.

“So, who wants to go first?” Yun asked when everyone was ready.

The Ouryuu volunteered immediately. “Zeno does!” Without waiting for permission he whipped out the gift from his sleeve: a rolled piece of cotton with something wrapped inside it. “This is for the Ryokuryuu! Happy Winter Festivus!” He tossed it to Jae Ha, sitting opposite him. “Zeno hopes he likes it and makes good use of it.”

Jae Ha looked up in surprise once he'd unrolled the cotton and realised what his gift was. “How did you know I needed this?” he asked.

“What is it?” Yona asked, not recognising what it was.

“It's Python skin,” he explained, “for my erhu.”

“Zeno noticed the Ryokuryuu wasn't playing as often after he dropped his bag during that fight in Sei, and that when he did play, the sound wasn't quite right. Zeno guessed that it was damaged and the Ryokuryuu was probably having trouble affording to fix it.”

Jae Ha nodded, surprised at Zeno’s perceptiveness. “This would have been expensive,” he said.

The Ouryuu smiled broadly. “That's why Zeno caught the python himself. It was free!”

Yona’s eyes widened in horror. “But didn't you get bitten?”

“Only a few times,” Zeno said in an attempt to placate her concerns, “but everyone knows the Ouryuu will always recover so it was no problem!”

“‘Only a few times’ is a lot, you careless dragon,” Yun said, “it’s not like a simple thorn prick!”

“But the python isn’t very poisonous and it only managed to break Zeno’s wrist once!”

“That doesn’t make it any better!”

Zeno simply laughed and patted the boy on the head.

“This is a very fine gift,” Jae Ha said, “the quality of the skin it high, and it’s been dried and treated perfectly. This was skillfully done. Thank you, Zeno-kun, I really appreciate it.”

Zeno scratched his hair, embarrassed at the sincerity of Jae Ha’s thanks. “Zeno’s happy his gift made the mister happy, too. Maybe the Ryokuryuu will start playing more for us in the evenings again?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the group. “Who’s next?”

“Well, since I got my gift, I think it's only fair I give my present next, right?” Jae Ha suggested.

“Oh, that's a good idea! Who did you pick from the pot?” Yona asked.

“That would be…” Jae Ha paused for dramatic effect, “Hak!” He pulled a large, white bottle out from behind him. “I hope you like it.”

“Cheongju, huh? Good choice.” Hak took the gift from Jae Ha and inspected the name. “This is a good brand, too,” he said appreciatively.

“It was difficult to get a hold of, I had to barter for it in a very dubious place, but it’s definitely the real deal.”

“I don’t want to know more,” Hak said, grinning, “but let's enjoy it together later tonight.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“No fair,” Kija protested, “you guys are always sharing drinks together.”

“Anyone’s welcome to join us, White Snake, if you can keep up with us.”

“It's Winter Festivus, the least you could do is call me by my proper title!”

Considering he was in a good mood, Hak felt there was no harm in obliging. “Fair enough, Hakuryuu. But just for today.”

Kija’s jaw fell open and Yona thought he looked adorable enough to giggle over.

To everyone’s surprise, Shin Ah spoke up. “What about you, Hak?” he asked, “who did you buy a gift for?”

“I’ve never seen you so excited, Shin Ah-kun.” Jae Ha said, highly amused. The boy blushed at the attention but from the way he was smiling and how tightly he was holding his hands together, it was obvious he was struggling to contain his glee. This was his first time celebrating a holiday and he was as excited to give a gift as he was to receive one.

Hak reached for a small bag in his robe and then went back in to pull out a pretty cloth folded in half as well. “It’s funny you should ask because it’s you,” he said, grinning, as he handed the goods over. “There are some nuts in the bag for Ao, and the gift in the cloth is yours.”

Shin Ah beamed and even though he was wearing a mask, Jae Ha was convinced the smile had reached those beautiful eyes of his. He held the cloth reverently, as if it could dissipate with a whisper, and stared at it without moving.

“Well?” Kija asked. “Don't you think you should open it, brother?”

Shin Ah looked up at Kija and it seemed to break the spell. He smiled again before laying the cloth onto his lap and carefully peeling it open. Inside were two medium-sized silk, yellow tassels, connected together with an intricate knot and decorated with two round green stones. Ao would have beamed too, except she’d already begun stuffing her cheeks with the nuts she'd found in the bag Hak had given her. “Just like Yona’s earrings,” Shin Ah whispered, holding his gift up for everyone to see. “Thank you.” He immediately got up and collected his sword, looping the tassels easily in the handle’s hoop.

“Hak made those himself,” Yona informed him, unable to hide her pride in her bodyguard’s hidden artistic talent. “That's why he could afford to buy materials of such good quality; he was able to purchase some silk string and unpolished gems and fashioned the tassels himself out of it.”

“Hak can make jewellery?” Yun asked, impressed. Jae Ha snorted with delight at the very idea.

“Weapon accessories,” Hak corrected, half embarrassed and half preening over the Princess’ praise. “It's important to know how to tie knots well, and I know how to polish things because it's an essential skill for weapons’ care.”

“The Mister is amazing,” Zeno exclaimed.

“I’ll treasure it.” Sitting back down with the group (his sword clutched lovingly) Shin Ah placed a clear jar of ointment in front of Kija. “I… I found this in the market. There were lots of different types, but… the lady there, she said that this was the best one. It should work to repel the toughest bugs. Happy Winter Festivus, Hakuryuu.”

Kija all but had hearts in his eyes and grabbed at the large jar eagerly. “Oh Shin Ah, how thoughtful!”

“I hope it works,” Shin Ah said, still holding his sword, “if it doesn't, I'll… I’ll go back and find you something else you might like.”

Kija shook his head vehemently. “No, no, there's no need. It's the thought that counts most of all, although I am sure it will aid me effectively in my battle against those terrible creepy crawlers from hell!” He opened the top and took an experimental sniff, scrunching his nose. “It’s certainly pungent,” he said. Ever the optimist he smiled broadly. “I can’t see how this will fail me!”

Shin Ah’s heart began to pound, happy beyond words at having succeeded in his first attempt to buy someone a present.

Jae Ha, however, smirked, knowing who was next. Almost everyone knew whose name Kija had picked from pot due to his ensuing panic and subsequent dedicated hunt for the perfect gift. “It’s your turn to give your gift now, Kija-kun. I wonder, who on earth could it have been?”

Kija went bright pink. “You know very well who it was! You made fun of me the whole time and turned my shopping experience into an absolute nightmare!”

Jae Ha shrugged his shoulders. “I was only trying to help...” he said, dolefully.

Kija wasn’t buying the act and angrily shook a fisted claw at the Ryokuryuu.  “You made too many suggestions and doubted all of my choices!”

Hak and Zeno couldn't help but laugh at his expression.

“Oh Kija, please don’t worry, I am sure whoever you got will love whatever it is you bought them, especially when you've obviously put so much thought and effort into finding their gift. Like you said to Shin Ah, that’s what really matters, right?”

Yona hadn’t realised it was possible for Kija’s blush to have gotten redder, but it did.

“Well, Princess, I hope that what you say is true because my person is you.” Without looking at her, he extended out his other hand, clutching a small wooden box. “I hope you like them,” he said shyly. “If not, I can always take them back and get them changed.”

“Oh.” Yona was pleasantly surprised. “I had no idea it was me!”

“Everyone else did.” Hak grinned. “He spent ages discussing what he should get you when everyone was trying to sleep and he wouldn't shut up.”

“Zeno remembers that night… he was so tired!”

“These are so pretty!” Yona was smiling widely from ear to ear, holding up a pair of new walking boots. “They look so comfortable, too!”

“Well I noticed your shoes are a bit worn and I know these ones are less slender but it’s the winter and I was thinking about the cold and how your feet might be getting more uncomfortable with the change in season-”

“Kija-”

“-and so when I saw them I thought you would like them but I wanted them to be pretty too because you’re a princess who deserves only the very best-”

“Kija…”

“-so I asked the cobbler to put some decoration on them and he did but if you don’t like them I can get you som-”

“Kija they’re wonderful and I love them,” Yona said loudly, interrupting his babble and doing everything she could to contain her laughter. “I could not be more grateful.”

“Oh,” he puffed out, utterly relieved, “I’m very glad.”

“I was just asking Hak the other day about whether or not I should get a heavier pair of shoes,” she said. “You've done me a great service because now I don't have to look for a new pair myself.” She smiled and held up her new shoes. “I'll start breaking them in tonight when we go to see the fireworks.”

Kija turned to give Jae Ha his familiar look of smug triumph.

“Well, considering there’s only the eternal seventeen year old and me left, I think we can easily figure out the rest.”

“The little lad is clever,” Zeno said, patting Yun’s head again. “Zeno’s excited to see what the little lad’s got him.”

“You’ll have to wait your turn. It’s Yona who’s supposed to give a present.”

“And here they are,” she said, presenting him with two books. “I know they’re a little boring,” she apologised, “I wanted to get you something more exciting, like a epic ballad or a historical romance but all I could afford was this old book of complicated maths. I bought it from a merchant who’d gotten it from a nobleman’s retired school tutor. I found the book on flora and fauna of the Xing Kingdom abandoned in one of the inns we stayed in a while ago.” She smiled at him. “One day, I’ll take you to the library at Kouka palace. You’ll be able to read anything you want, there are so many books there it’ll make your head spin, I promise. But for now, I hope these will do as a start.”

In a rare state of open emotion, Yun, unable to contain himself, got up to hug Yona tightly. The initial act took Yona by surprise, but the boy’s strong grip around her shoulders was a welcome thanks. Once he came to his senses he let go and sat himself back down as if nothing had happened and tossed Zeno a large, heavy bag. “Here,” he said while trying to duck his blushing face into his arm. “I made these for you.”

Zeno’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Sweets! The little lad made Zeno sweets! How joyful!” He shoved three into his mouth, one straight after the other and beamed, throwing his arms up into the air and making a ‘V’ with each hand. “In Zeno’s opinion, this is the best gift of them all! Happy Festivus Day to all!” His exuberance turned suddenly to trepidation, however, as everyone seemed to get the same idea at same the time. “No! Get away!” he yelled as they all pounced on him and tried to steal a sweet for themselves. “The little lad made them for me!”

~*~

“Uh… Princess, wait,” Hak said as the group made their way out of the inn to go watch the fireworks.

Yun eyed them both with suspicion and was about to open his mouth to berate Hak but Zeno caught him by the shoulders and pulled him away. “Come on, little lad, you and I aren’t as tall as the others, we have to go save spots up in the front or we won’t see anything!”

“That’s a good point,” Jae Ha added, winking quickly at Hak as he passed by. “I don’t want to have to carry you to higher ground, it’d be quite tiring, come along everyone.”

Once they were alone in the room, Hak began rifling through his things.

Having had no indication as to why she was asked to stay, Yona stood watching him awkwardly. Her eyes wandered over his muscular form - as they tended to do when she had an unimpeached view of him (stop it, she told herself, your cheeks will go red and he’s sure to notice!). She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “So… tonight was… um, fun? I really enjoyed celebrating Winter Festivus with everyone.” Yona tilted her head to get a better look at what he was pulling out of his pack when he didn’t respond. “What’s that?” she asked, uncertain if her suspicions about what he was about to do were correct. “Is that a new…”

“Yeah,” he said, standing up again and handing her a sleek, large bow. “For you.”

She gasped lightly. “Hak, this…” she took it from his outstretched hands and ran her fingers along the gift, “it’s beautiful.”

He nodded. “Bamboo core, ears of sandalwood and mulberry, and reinforced with buffalo horn,” he described, proud of his own find. “It’s a good bow.”

“But how did you-”

“I traded in the old one and a dagger I wasn’t using as part payment,” he answered, having anticipated her question. “It was worth it, though.”

“Oh…” To afford something so expensive he would’ve had to have sold one of his better weapons. Her heart ached at the thought of his generosity; he already gave her so much. “You didn’t have t-” she stopped herself when she noticed that of all things, Hak - the Thunder Beast of Kouka - was blushing. She immediately thought it better to simply take the gift in the spirit it was given. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel awkward about his kind gesture. “This is perfect, thank you.” As she was about to test the string she noticed something special about the decoration on the inner side of the bow. “Is that the royal crest in the design?” she asked, surprised.

He smirked. “You noticed. It wasn’t safe to make it obvious but this bow should last you a long time if you take care of it properly. I wanted it to be personal for you, so I kept it subtle and worked it into the pattern. It isn’t easy to see unless you’re really looking. I’m glad you like it. The crest is difficult to replicate, I wanted to do a good job with it.”

“You did,” she said, a smile blooming, “and I do really love it.” Her eyes pricked with tears, but she reigned them in.

“It’s a little bigger than the last one,” he said, “so with more training you’ll be able to reach targets which are further away. It’ll be harder to use but you’ve grown a lot in strength and in skill, and even a little in height,” he added with a grin, “so I’m sure you’ll adjust well.”

At his compliment she grinned, too. “I thought we were only supposed to buy a gift for the person whose name we pulled out of the pot,” she teased.

He stretched his arms out and yawned before answering, feigning nonchalance. “Technically it’s not a Festivus gift. It was about time you had an upgrade and it just so happens that I am giving it to you on Winter Festivus day.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “I broke no rules. Yun can’t punish me.”

Yona’s, however, widened with worry. “Wha? Will Yun really punish us for breaking the rules?” she asked in a panic. “You think he’ll deny me breakfast tomorrow?”

Hak lifted an eyebrow. “You bought someone else a gift?”

It was her turn to blush. “Sort of,” she said, looking down suddenly and finding her new bow very interesting all over again.

“Oh,” he said, mildly surprised, “then yes. I heard Yun say that anyone who bought more than one person a gift wouldn't be allowed food for two whole days.”

At that Yonas gaze shot up. “Whaaaa?! Noooo!” she wailed, “I would have eaten more at dinner if I’d-” she stopped when he burst out laughing at her, clutching at his stomach as he doubled over.  “Hak!” she yelled as she marched over to his pack and drew out an arrow from his quiver, “I'll test out my new bow by shooting you.”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologised amid residual chuckles. “It was just too easy.”

She huffed, putting her bow down gently to pull out a piece of paper from a pocket in her dress. “I'm reconsidering whether I want to give you your Festivus gift.”

He stopped laughing completely at that. “Me?” he asked, surprised.

She began blushing as the rare look of shock in his gaze turned to assessment. He had a way of piercing straight through her, as if he could read her heart like it was an open book. It took all of her strength not to toss the folded sheet of paper at him and run away in embarrassment.

“What’s this?” He opened it, genuinely curious, and read.

“Your gift. I didn't have enough money so…”

“Princess, this is a list of my chores,” he narrowed his eyes in suspicion as they tore themselves away from the paper and peered into her face. “Are you trying to tell me I'm being a slacker?”

Of all his potential reactions, that one had never actually occurred to her. “What? No!”

“Then-”

“You work so hard,” she explained, “you’ve always- well,” she stopped herself, “maybe not when we were in the palace when you used to take naps all the time-”

“It wasn’t all the time,” he mumbled, but she was too far into her spiel to notice.

“-but maybe even then you probably used to nap a lot because I was always such hard work to protect,” she was blushing furiously as she struggled to get back to the focus of her speech, “but that's not the point, you see my point is-”

“Princess-”

“-you do so much, not just for me but for everyone, but also mainly for me, and you never, ever stop. You're always helping out and you’re always on the lookout and you care about everyone so very much. I'm trying to become strong like you, Hak, but it's taking a little while so in the meantime I wanted to just-”

“Princess, slow down.” Hak placed his hands firmly onto her shoulders, bending slightly so that he was eye-level with her, grabbing her attention. “You're sounding flustered,” he said and gave her a gentle smile of reassurance. “I don't mind doing what I do, truly. I work hard because it makes me happy. There's no reason for you to get so stressed about it, especially when I have so many friends that I can count on to take care of me, too.” Pulling away, he waved the paper briefly. “Thank you for laying out my chores for me in an easy list. I’m grateful, for you and your kind gift,” before she could answer he continued on, “Yun would appreciate how organised I'll be from now on. It'll definitely help.”

It was Yona’s turn to frown. “That's not what that is.” Honestly, she thought, he can be so obtuse sometimes. It was half cute and half irritating, which sort of made it even more endearing to her. “They're gifts,” she explained. “The next time you have to do one of those chores I'll do it for you, instead.” She looked up at him, eyes hopeful that he'd like it. “It's not much, but even you need a break too, sometimes.”

For a second she worried she’d said something to upset him. He stood perfectly still, his gaze intense and focused entirely on her.

“Hak?” Before she could say anything more he’d gripped her into a tight hold, just like Yun had done earlier, only this one was much, much fiercer. He’d pulled her close to him, enveloping her small frame entirely, and then pulled away just as quickly. She’d barely had time to register what had happened.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling broadly and not looking sorry at all, “I was greedy and took two gifts from you instead of one.”

“That’s… that’s ok, I didn’t mind,” she said quietly.

They stood grinning awkwardly at each other for a few moment, happy to be within the presence of the other. 

Eventually Hak cleared his throat. “Maybe you should go put your bow away,” he suggested, “we’ll need to catch up with the others soon or we'll miss the fireworks.”

“Alright,” she agreed and bent down to pick up her gift. “Thank you for this,” she said, smiling happily. “Happy Winter Fesitivus, Hak.”

“Happy Winter Festivus, Princess.”