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itsafanficthing · 4 years

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The Paper Boy - Chapter 9

Queue Meme "It's been 84 Years".

I knew how I wanted this chapter to go, but getting it out of my head and onto the page was a struggle. Thank you for your comments and messages, thank you for sticking with the story.

I truly hope you enjoy it!

A03 Link here

---

Jamie sat in his usual seat beside Claire and set out his books. The teacher began speaking and Claire immediately started taking notes but Jamie’s mind was far beyond the classroom. He’d never really put much thought into a school dance before. He’d never really put much thought into asking someone. He wondered if Claire expected him to ask her. Did she think that it was unspoken that they would go together? They were friends after all. It wouldn’t be out of the ballpark for them to go together. Should he still ask her though? If she was expecting it, would she want him to ask her? It was more than likely that she would. He remembered dances past and hearing Geillis and Mary chatter away about the boy they hoped would ask them, and the others that had already asked and were now “off the market”. He should ask her. Clarify that it was just “as friends”. It didn’t need to be anything more than that.

Jamie glanced beside him. A curl had already escaped the confines of her hair tie and she was tucking it behind her ear in frustration before she felt Jamie’s eyes on her and she turned her head. Jamie looked away quickly and tried to focus on what the teacher was writing on the board, but he was distracted as Claire nudged his arm and looked pointedly at the corner of her book.

Are you alright?

The words were written in her clean handwriting and Jamie felt a swell of affection bloom in his chest and explode down his spine for her. She would never know the depth of his feelings for her- Jamie barely understood them himself- and why simply reading her words, asking if he was alright would have such an effect on him. He nodded briefly before he focused back on the whiteboard at the front of the room, and started to copy down some of the notes that he had in no way-shape or form been paying attention to.

Claire nudged him again and he looked back at her book.

What’s wrong?

She’d crossed out the words above and underlined these ones, looking at him with her eyes narrowed. Jamie fought the urge to roll his eyes at her persistence as he pulled her book toward him and hastily scribbled back a reply.

Nothing, just zoned out for a second.

He watched as Claire’s hawk eyes scanned the words quickly before narrowing on him again.

Tell me about it after class.

She made sure that Jamie saw her reply before she pulled her book back and began taking rapid notes again. Jamie couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched her. Not much got past Claire when it came to Jamie, apparently. Except perhaps the way that he truly felt towards her.

He would ask her to the dance, he decided- and not just as friends.

The morning seemed to fly by and before Jamie knew what was happening, he and Claire were walking side by side to her Biology class.

There was somewhat of an awkward quiet between them. Claire was evidently waiting for Jamie to say something and Jamie was very deliberately avoiding her eyes.

“Are you nervous about the dance?” Claire asked, breaking the silence and nudging Jamie with her shoulder.

Jamie chuckled and shook his head. No, it wasn’t the actual dance he was worried about. It was the asking of a date- asking a friend, that had his stomach in knots.

“You seem off,” Claire pressed, unwilling to let it go. “Was it the messages you were getting? Did something happen to your father? Is everything alright? Did you forget to do your homework? Did morning tea upset your stomach?” Claire started throwing rapid fire questions at Jamie and he had to speak over her to stop her from talking.

“No, no, Claire, shh, no.” Jamie fought the urge to roll his eyes at her as she gave up with a huff. “The messages were from Laoghaire. She’s excited that I have a phone I guess,” Jamie said with an uncomfortable half shrug. “Excited about the dance as well,” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh. I see. Yes. Well. Yes, of course.” Claire shook her head, as though she was trying to clear it, but Jamie didn’t see that. He was avoiding looking at Claire and instead watching as Frank Randall walked in a direct beline toward them.

“Hi Claire, James,” he greeted them both happily, his cheeks flushed lightly.

Jamie nodded in response with a tight lipped smile. Mr Randall insisted on calling Jamie “James” no matter how many of the other teachers called him Jamie and no matter how many times Jamie asked him not to. It seemed that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

“Hi Frank,” Claire replied happily, completely missing Jamie’s discomfort. Or perhaps she was ignoring it. For how impressively Claire managed to pick up on Jamie’s moods, she seemed to be particularly obtuse about his current disposition.

“Interesting about the dance. They don’t usually do one so close to school starting, do they?” Frank fell into step with them as they continued across the courtyard to Claire’s classroom.

“Oh? How many dances do you usually have? Is it a constant thing? Every month or something?” Claire asked curiously.

Jamie opened his mouth to answer her but Frank beat him to it.

“Well, there’s usually the welcome back to school dance, but that’s, what... normally a month after we’re back. Not two weeks. And then there’s the Samhain dance- you know Halloween. That’s not really a dance. It’s more like… a gathering of sorts. Christmas obviously. And then nothing again until the Seniors have their farewell towards the end of the school year. But there’s also the fete that happens on the weekend, usually in May. Raises money for the school, with games and rides and things.”

“Quite a lot of activity then,” Claire commented. Jamie could feel her eyes on him, but he just shrugged and continued to look forward.

“I suppose so. Keeps everyone quite busy through the year,” Frank continued, calling Claire’s attention back to him. “Seems that they are blending a few of the class years together for this one. They usually stagger it out so that they don’t have so many students all at once. But it looks like they are doing it in sections this time- the Juniors and then the Seniors. More options for the grades to mix I suppose.”

Jamie groaned internally. Perfect. That meant that Laoghaires’ year would be attending the dance with his- no wonder she was so excited. Jamie felt his phone buzz in his pocket again. So far he was not completely enjoying having a mobile phone. Though the one person that he did want to text was walking right beside him, so maybe he would reserve judgment for the time being. Jamie’s mind drifted as they walked to Claire's class and as they arrived at the room he focused back to whatever Frank was prattling on about.

“- expect that there will be a lot of fuss over finding dates for this particular one.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed as Claire put down her bag.

“What with the years mixing I mean. Which leads me to ask…”

“I didn’t realise you had Bio with Claire,” Jamie stated, well aware of the fact that Frank did not in fact have Biography with her. Frank started to answer but Jamie interrupted him again. “I’ll see you after class, Claire. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

There were several reasons why Jamie did what he did next.

1- The fact that Frank Randall was surely about to ask Claire out to the dance.

2- That he’d been wanting to reach out and tuck that stray curl back behind Claire’s ear since it had escaped her ponytail during class.

3- He wanted Frank Randall to see that there was something between Jamie and Claire even if Jamie didn’t know what it was.

However, if you asked Jamie directly why he did what he did, he would very honestly say that he had no idea what made him do it.

Carefully Jamie reached out and gently brushed the curl from Claire’s cheek, feeling his fingers tremble as they feathered against the soft skin of her face. Time seemed to slow down as he tucked the curl, Claire’s eyes met his and it was like molten gold churning and bubbling away and the urge to kiss her had never been stronger. Carefully Jamie dropped his hand to her shoulder and squeezed it briefly.

“Right here.” He repeated before he adjusted his own backpack and stalked off to class. His hand tingled, feeling like he had just received an electric shot. He chanced a quick glance back to where Frank and Clare were standing. Claire looked shell shocked at the intimate gesture and Frank was looking frantically between the two of them, trying to get Claire’s attention back.

—

Jamie was exactly where Claire had left him, breathing a little heavier than normal after sprinting across the courtyard to be there as she left her class. He noticed that her cheeks pinked slightly when she saw him but she grinned nonetheless.

“Everyone won’t stop talking about this bloody dance,” she said casually as they walked toward the field to have their lunch. “Geillis was a steady stream of consciousness throughout Bio about who had already asked who, what she was going to wear, what I was going to wear. It was ridiculous.”

“Aye, the lasses seem to get excited by it,” Jamie agreed as they walked to their lunch time spot together.

“What about the lads?” Claire asked as she tried to mimic Jamie’s accent. “Do they enjoy it as much?”

“Ye’d have to ask them. I’m sure Rupert and Angus dinna mind it so much... if they’re able to snag a date that is,” Jamie answered as he dropped his bag into the ground.

“Will they get dates? Is that a thing here? Everyone has to have a date?” Claire asked as she delicately placed her own bag on the ground and sat next to it, removing her lunch.

“They dinna have to,” Jamie said as Angus called out his name from the field. “Ye can go stag if ye wish.”

Claire hummed in reply as Louise, Mary and Geillis plopped themselves next to her, immediately calling her attention to their own conversation.

Jamie looked down at the group of girls as Angus called his name again, waiting for Jamie to go and kick the ball with the other lads.

No, you didn’t need a date, but that didn’t mean that Jamie didn’t want one.

—

Jamie realised that he hadn’t actually eaten anything by the time the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. He shook his head as he grabbed an apple from his bag and hastily stuffed it into his mouth.

“Don’t choke,” Claire called as she was pulled away from him by Geillis. Jamie smiled back at her, his mouth full of the fruit with juice dribbling down his chin, making her laugh in response.

“See you after class,” she waved as Geillis shook her head at the both of them.

—-

It seemed that Tom had a personal vendetta against Jamie in that afternoon's PE class. He pushed himself harder, ran faster and played more aggressively than Jamie had ever seen him, and Jamie had no idea why. He raised his hand for every question in the class and threw specific looks at Jamie when he was picked.

Jamie didn’t particularly care that Tom was hogging the spotlight, Jamie’s mind was far too preoccupied wondering how he was going to ask Claire to the dance- well, that and he hadn’t had anything apart from his apple for lunch and he was starving.

As soon as class was over he dug around in his bag for his forgotten lunch, disappointed to realise that in his haste to get to Claire’s in the morning and show her his new phone he had actually forgotten to pack said lunch. He finally pulled out a long forgotten muesli bar and inhaled it.

“Fraser!” Jamie turned to the sound of Tom calling out to him. “Wait up.”

Rupert and Angus both paused as well, not sure if they should hang back and wait for Jamie. He waved them away with a slight shrug. Since when did Tom want to talk to him about anything?

“Ye were’na keeping up today,” Tom said as he fell into step with Jamie.

“Missed lunch,” Jamie shrugged back. Did Tom just want to rub in that he’d got the best of him?

“Heard yer taking Laoghaire to the dance as well,” Tom continued as if Jamie hadn’t spoken.

Jamie inhaled sharply and an oat from the muesli bar he had just demolished wedged itself in the back of his throat and he spluttered helplessly.

“Ye did’na want people to find out?” Tom guessed. There was something about the way he was looking at Jamie that made him all the more uncomfortable but after coughing and spluttering and finally clearing his throat, with his eyes streaming with tears Jamie could actually respond.

“Who the hell told ye that?”

“Laoghaire’s been spoutin’ off ta everyone that ye’ll be going together. Thought ye’d already asked her.”

“I’mnae takin’ Laoghaire to the dance,” Jamie disagreed vehemently.

“Oh,” Tom replied in genuine surprise. “I just thought… that… everyone thinks that there’s something going on with the both of ye.”

“Who- What- who thinks that? Why?” Jamie stuttered. He would kill Laoghaire for making things up about the two of them. Especially if word got back to Claire.

“She’s always around ye, and ye canna deny the way that ye look at her.”

“I look at her?” Jamie repeated incredulously. “Christ, she’s a child. There is nothin’ goin’ on with me and Laoghaire.”

“Oh right, it’s just that… Nah, never mind eh. I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

“It’s what? What, Tom!” Jamie tried to stop him from leaving and to spit out whatever he’d been about to say but he was cut off feeling a tap on his shoulder. Lord help him if it was Laoghaire, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

“You alright?” Claire stood beside him, her eyebrows furrowed as she watched the retreating figure of Tom Christie.

“Aye,” Jamie answered absentmindedly before shaking his head clear and focusing on Claire. “Aye, just wanted to have a word after a class.”

“Yes, he seemed to run circles around you this afternoon. In fact, at one point I think he literally was running circles around you,” Claire laughed as they headed out of the school front gates together.

“I thought ye were supposed to be payin’ attention in class,” Jamie scoffed as he nudged her with his shoulder.

“I was. But it’s awfully distracting when you hear the whistle being blown out on the field and a lot of yelling.”

“Sorry to distract ye from yer class then,” Jamie scoffed with laughter. “What were ye learning about?”

“I don’t know honestly. Frank kept trying to get my attention and between that and you playing out on the field I have no idea what Mr Randall was talking about.”

“What did Frank want?” Jamie asked cautiously, not really sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Who knows,” Claire sighed heavily as she pulled her hair free of its tie. “Mr Randall got fed up with him and sent him outside for a bit. Imagine having your own father as your teacher and him sending you outside for playing up. Definitely can’t call favouritism there, can you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Jamie said, letting out a brief sigh of relief that Frank hadn’t beaten Jamie to the punch in asking Claire to the dance before Jamie had the chance.

“I think I’d ask to be in a different class if it were me. Not that my dad was a teacher. Even Lamb though. Imagine the pressure if you got something wrong. There’s no break in your day. You wake up and there’s your dad. You go to school and there he is again. You get home, boom- Homework on the table with the one and only. It would be exhausting.”

Jamie merely grunted response as Claire continued.

“Imagine if he gave you detention. I can’t imagine dinner would be great after that. I wonder if Frank feels that kind of expectation? That he has to be perfect for his father? I bet he does. I would. If it were me. Or maybe that would make me act out? I don’t know,” Claire continued as they walked to her house. “I guess it depends on the kind of person your parent is. I think my mother would have let more things slide than my father. She could have been a teacher. What did your mum do? You’ve never told me.”

Jamie shook his head trying to trace how Claire had landed there in her musings.

“She was an artist- a painter,” he answered eventually as Claire’s house came into view with Lamb on the front lawn. “She ran the household of course and helped Da on the farm, but if ye asked her, she’d say she was a painter.”

“Oh, the art in your house?”

“Aye, some of it’s hers. The uhh… the paintin’ of Jen and me that’s in the living room. She did that one.”

Claire’s eyebrows furrowed and she squinted her eyes as if she was trying to see something very far away. “Oh, as children,” she said in understanding, “I remember. She’s very good.”

“Aye,” Jamie said through a sigh. “She was.”

Lamb was waving at them as they edged closer to Claire’s house. He looked excited by something. Jamie couldn’t help but be a little frustrated that Lamb was clearly waiting for them. He’d wanted to ask Claire to the dance but he didn’t want to do it in front of her uncle. How awkward that would be!

“Claire. Thank goodness you're home!” He said excitedly as Claire opened her front gate.

“Is everything alright?” Claire asked cautiously, perhaps with a tinge of fear in her voice. Jamie was sure that Lamb hardly noticed, such was his excitement, but Jamie could hear it.

“Marvellous, bumblebee. Marvellous. Come inside.” He said in a rush before he walked, no, skipped back indoors.

Jamie looked after Lamb in curiosity as Claire rolled her eyes. “I’d better go in. He might combust.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed half heartedly. He couldn’t ask her now. It would be rushed, and he hadn’t at all planned what he was actually going to say.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Claire asked expectantly. There was something else that flashed across her face but Jamie couldn’t quite tell what it was. One second it was there and then it was gone. Maybe she did want him to ask her to the dance?

“Aye,” he repeated. “I’ll be here.”

Claire looked at him for a moment longer than was strictly necessary for saying goodbye to someone and Jamie took a deep breath. He may as well just ask her.

“Claire!” Lamb yelled from inside the house impatiently and Claire threw Jamie an apologetic look before she replied that she was coming.

“See you!” She said brightly before she turned and headed inside the house, closing the front door carefully behind her.

Jamie felt his phone buzz in his pocket with a new message. He didn’t have to guess who it would be, he already knew.

—

Jamie was late.

Jamie was never late.

Jamie woke up with the crow of the rooster.

Jamie was never late.

This morning- Jamie was late.

Either the bloody rooster hadn’t crowed or a night of fitful sleeping dreaming of all the ways to ask Claire to the dance, only for her to turn around and tell him that she was going with Frank Randall, had exhausted him so much that he didn’t hear the stupid rooster.

He sent Claire a message from his phone at the time that he would usually be turning onto her street.

-Running late. Meet you at school.-

He’d actually spent too long thinking about how to word his first actual text message to Claire Beauchamp and had wasted more time that he didn’t have.

Claire responded almost immediately and Jamie felt an unwarranted thrill go through him as he read her response. Short as it was.

-No worries. See you there.-

And then a moment later another message from her. A sleepy face emoji.

-Something like that.- Jamie responded as he grabbed a piece of toast from Jenny’s outstretched hand, grunting in thanks.

“Better pedal hard, braither,” Jenny shook her head, grinning at him as he shoved the bread into his mouth, chewing furiously.

“Aye, thank ye Jen,” he mumbled around a full mouth as he ran for his bike.

It was days like these, not that there were many, that he wished he already had his licence and could take his motorbike. He knew that his Da would have a heart attack if he took the dirt bike out on the road but it would certainly be better than having to pedal furiously to school.

—

Jamie locked his bike up on the racks as the first bell rang. He would make it just in time. He hoped that Claire had saved him a seat in Homeroom.

—

Breathlessly Jamie arrived at the back of the line of students as they were heading into class. He could see the back of Claire’s head as she walked through the doorway and Jamie tried to slow his breathing. She was talking with someone, Geillis more than likely, and laughing at whatever the other person was saying. Jamie wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, still trying to calm his breathing as he followed the line into the classroom.

Perhaps it was worth being late just to see Claire’s face as he walked in. Jamie was sure that he looked a dreadful sight. He’d ridden his bike as fast as he could, he hadn’t had time to brush his hair or his teeth. He could almost guarantee that his cheeks would be red and flushed with sweat brimming along his hairline.

In contrast, Claire sat at their usual desk, her hair was in two braids, taming the riotous curls. She smiled at him as he entered the room, her cheeks pinking slightly as he smiled back. Her skin looked particularly glowing, pale as she was, and when she smiled at him, Jamie felt his heart stutter in his chest. He didn’t know that hearts did that.

“Mr Fraser. If ye’d like to take yer seat,” an impatient voice said from behind him and Jamie looked to see the thoroughly unimpressed Mrs Fox waiting for him to move from the front of the room.

“Aye, sorry,” he mumbled, ducking his head and moving to the spare seat next to Claire. The sounds of the other students laughing at his embarrassment was unheard by Jamie as he slipped into the chair next to Claire and she whispered a quiet hello to him.

Jamie tried to pay attention to the morning announcements from Mrs Fox but he could help stealing furtive glances at Claire sitting next to him. She seemed to be doing the same thing and a few times they accidentally caught each other’s eyes. Blushes from both of them quickly followed whenever that happened.

The bell finally rang and Jamie wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. Perhaps he could ask her to the dance on the way to their first classes.

Just as he picked up his bag he was accosted by Rupert and Angus.

“Ye wake up late, ye numpty?”

“It’s not like ye to sleep in.”

“Maybe he finally figured out what that phone was for?”

“Kept him up all night?? Found a few choice websites??”

“He does’na look dehydrated to ye, does he Rupe?”

“Nah lad, but his eyes are bloodshot. Must’na’ha slept a wink.”

“Shove off,” Jamie groaned at their adolescent banter.

“So did ye use any of the sites I sent ye? Messy Bessy?” Angus continued despite the withering glare that Jamie was giving him. “I remember my first phone and unmonitored internet privileges.”

“Aye, ye could’na write for a week,” Rupert laughed loudly as Angus shoved him.

“Will ye two give it a rest!” Jamie growled as Claire walked half a pace in front of them with Mary. So much for asking her to the dance in the walk between classes.

“But ye’re never late Jamie,” Rupert said in mock outrage. “Especially since that lass has come along,” he continued tiling his head pointedly at Claire.

“Aye, well I was this mornin’, so ye can shut her mouths about it.”

“Seems a bit grumpy to ye, doesn’t he, Rupert,” Angus asked innocently.

“Aye, I’d say he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Angus,” Rupert replied casually.

“Ah, but ye’re assuming he got any sleep at all.” With that Angus and Rupert lost themselves in laughter, dodging away from Jamie’s fists with an infuriating practised ease.

Claire turned around to see what the boys were laughing at and she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Jamie to explain. He shook his head quickly but could feel the stupid flush coming to his cheeks as she looked at him. She smiled back before turning to Mary and engaging her in conversation again.

—

He didn’t really get a chance to talk to Claire again until their break and even then he barely managed to get a word in as Geillis and Louise monopolised her time. Jamie wasn’t sure what they were talking about but Louise kept giggling and Claire was blushing, so maybe he was glad that he wasn’t privy to that particular discussion.

Jamie earned a few hard nudges from Rupert who was trying to talk to him about something and Jamie was very clearly not listening.

However when the word “dance” caught in Jamie’s mind, he stopped watching the girls and turned to hear whatever Rupert was saying.

“I’m going to ask her at lunch,” he finished and Jamie shook his head at his friend as he tried to catch up.

“Yer sure she’ll say yes?” Angus asked doubtfully, his eyes darting over to the group of girls quickly and back. “What about Jamie?”

“What about me? Who are ye askin’?” Jamie asked quickly, his heart skipping a beat as he hoped it wasn’t Claire.

“I thought he was taking Laoghaire? ‘Asides, Jamie, ye did go wi’ her a’fore. I didn’t think if ye’d want to again,” Rupert answered nervously.

“Go with her again?” Jamie repeated. “Oh Geillis!” He suddenly realised. “Nah I was’na gonna ask her to the dance. Yer welcome to.”

The bell rang, indicating the end to their break and Rupert looked cheery again.

“So ye’r not taking Laoghaire?”

“No!” Jamie shook his head violently. “I need to have a word with the lass. I dinna ken why she’s telling everyone and their mother that I’ve asked her.”

“Aye, I was curious about it. I assumed ye’d be takin’ the lass,” Rupert answered, inclining his head towards Claire and the other girls.

“Aye,” Jamie mumbled in response. “I suppose so.”

“Ye dinna want to ask her?” Rupert asked in astonishment as they headed to the classrooms.

“Aye, I do. I just… I dinna ken how.” Jamie shook his head. He hadn’t had any trouble asking Geillis to the last dance they went to. But Claire was different. He also didn’t really know if Claire actually wanted him to ask her. Maybe she didn’t want to have any date at all.

Rupert grunted in agreement, though his eyes were firmly on the back on Geillis’ redhead and he fiddled with his tie uselessly.

Jamie didn’t love Tuesday’s. While Claire headed to Biology, Jamie had Physics. They did have Math together in the afternoon, but the middle double period on Tuesday’s in their separate classes, seemed like the longest part of the week to Jamie.

They hadn’t even been back at school that long, even more, with Claire at his school, and already he was very attached to having the same classes as her. As a studious note-taker in all of their classes, she encouraged him to be a better student. He could have used her influence in Physics if he was honest. It was one of the hardest classes he’d ever taken, he wondered if it was even worth it.

The other issue was that Tom had Biology with Claire. That’s where they had first met and struck up a friendship. Jamie could see Tom now, walking beside her to the classroom, making her laugh at something. That should be Jamie walking with her to class, making her laugh- asking her to the dance- Not Tom.

Tom looked back as if he could head Jamie’s thoughts and Jamie thought that he saw him smirk, but it could have been nothing. Jamie shook the look off with a sigh as he dropped his bag to the ground and entered his classroom. If he wasn’t in such a huff, he would have seen Claire look at him as well, a look of longing on her face.

---

Sometimes Physics just didn’t make any sense. Jamie looked at notes written on his page about the module they were concentrating on.

“Analyse the motion of projectiles by resolving the motion into horizontal and vertical components, making the following assumptions; a constant vertical acceleration due to gravity, and zero air resistance.”

Jamie looked at the words. Sure, they made sense, and he knew in theory what he was meant to be working out, but it was like his brain was full of sludge, struggling to connect the dots and work out what it was he was actually meant to be solving. Jamie shook his head, continuing to copy down the notes the teacher was making on the whiteboard, but he still wasn’t any clearer in what he was actually meant to be doing. Truth be told, his mind wasn’t really in the Physics classroom, it was a few doors down, where Claire was in the Biology lab.

Was she sitting with Tom? Was she worrying about the dance like Jamie was? Had she heard the stupid rumour that Jamie was apparently taking Laoghiare to the dance? Was Biology a hell of a lot easier than Physics? Should Jamie have chosen that instead of trying to test himself with a Science that he didn’t think that he would ever use in his real life?

Finally the bell rang, signalling the start of lunch and Jamie nearly groaned with relief. The teacher was calling something out about the upcoming assignment, but their voice was drowned out by the scraping of chairs and general chatter of the other students.

Jamie knew he had to just buck up and ask Claire to the dance. What was the worst that could happen? She could say no. He’d feel like a bit of an idiot, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Hopefully she hadn’t heard the rumour that Laoghaire had started and hadn’t said yes to someone else before Jamie could ask her.

Jamie absentmindedly picked up his bag and made his way to their usual lunch spot, near the sporting sheds and the soccer field. He would pull her aside or something, see if she wanted to go for a walk with him and then he would ask her.

Jamie dug his lunch out of his bag, but barely noticed what he was eating. Each swallow seemed difficult as he tried to get the food down around the lump of nerves that had currently wedged themselves in his throat. Then he saw her walking the field towards him. Geillis was howling with laughter at something, Louise was beaming and Claire was blushing profusely. Even at a distance, Jamie could see that. He tried to swallow his mouthful of food, but coughed and gagged at the half chewed sandwich. Jamie watched as Rupert jogged up to the group of girls, separating Geillis from the other two. Louise and Claire exchanged a look before they continued on to where Jamie was sitting.

“I think Rupert is asking Geillis to the dance,” Louise said as she sat delicately on the grass. “He said that he wanted to speak to her privately.” She glanced back at the pair, both of whom looked incredibly awkward with each other.

“I think she’ll say yes,” Claire said, studying them for a moment before meeting Jamie’s eyes briefly and then looking down quickly at her lunch. “She said that she wanted to go with him in Bio.”

“Do ye sit next to each other?” Jamie asked, his voice trembling a little bit. He hoped Claire didn’t notice.

“No,” Louise answered for her. “Claire sits with Tom, I sit with Geillis. But she was saying when we sat down. I think she was going to ask him at the end of the day if he didn’t do anything.”

Jamie nodded along, but the sandwich he had just eaten felt like a block of cement in his stomach. Claire and Tom sat next to each other. Not that that really meant anything in particular, but Jamie didn’t like it all the same. Claire also wouldn’t meet Jamie’s eyes now, so he wasn’t entirely sure how he was meant to ask her to the dance, especially with Louise so close.

“They’ll be good together. I’m glad he asked her,” Claire said quietly. Jamie tried to study her face, tried to read what she was thinking but she refused to look at him. Was that a hint? Did she want Jamie to ask her.

Jamie opened his mouth to get her attention but was interrupted by the arrival of Angus and Mary.

“Rupert just asked Geillis to the dance,” Angus announced loudly. “Pretty sure she said yes, they’ve gone for a walk together, so might have to wait a bit to kick the ball around.”

Jamie nodded carefully, not quite trusting his voice.

“We were just talking about that,” Louise continued on with the latest gossip. “She was going to ask him at the end of the day, if he didn’t ask her. Oh, and Frank asked Claire.”

Jamie looked up at Claire quickly to see her cheeks flaming red.

“Frank? Frank Randall?” Angus scoffed loudly. “When did that happen? What did ye say?”

“He asked me this morning; before homeroom,” Claire answered quietly, purposefully avoiding Jamie’s eyes.

“What did ye say?” Angus pushed, his eyes lighting up with mischievousness.

“I said no,” Claire responded haughtily, clearly uncomfortable to have the entire conversation now focused on her.

Jamie almost sighed in relief.

“I didn’t think… that was before I found out…. Never mind. I said no. I thought we are better as friends.”

Jamie was itching to know what she had found out. He needed to ask if she wanted to go for a walk with him.

“I wish I could’ha seen his face,” Angus laughed joyously. “Perfect Frank Randall having someone say no to him. Ah, it’s better than my wildest dreams.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Claire shook her head. “He’s a nice guy, just… misunderstood. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

Claire still hadn’t looked at Jamie and he couldn’t figure out why.

“Ah,” Angus laughed again, “Could’na happened to a better lad.”

“Hush yer gob,” Jamie said under his breath. Jamie knew that Angus and Rupert didn’t like Frank Randall, but he was sure that was just because his father Mr Randall was such a twat of a teacher that they were more than a little prejudiced.

“Come on, let’s go kick the ball,” Angus said, still grinning. Jamie nodded but paused before he stood up. “Claire, can I borrow ye for a moment?”

“I’m just finishing my lunch, can it wait until after?” She replied, still not looking at him.

Christie sat next to her in Biology, what had he told her about him?

“Aye, it’s uhhh… yeah, never mind.” Shaking his head, trying to clear it, Jamie followed Angus out onto the field.

She had said “no” to Frank, did that mean that she was waiting for Jamie to ask her? Jamie ran after the ball after a misplaced wide kick from Angus, trying to get rid of the nagging feeling that something had happened in Biology that Jamie was unaware of. As far as he knew, no one else had asked Claire, but that didn’t mean that someone else wouldn’t. It could be Angus, or Adam McLean, Simon O’Hara, or heaven forbid, Tom Christie. There was almost a line of lads in the school that would be more than willing to take her to the dance. Jamie needed to ask her before it was too late.

Jamie booted the ball back to Angus, pleased to see that Rupert had finished his discussion with Geillis and was now running onto the field. Geillis was grinning from ear to ear as she joined the other girls. Jamie’s eyes automatically went to Claire, expecting her to be caught up in the gossip of Geillis and Rupert going to the dance together. Instead she was watching Jamie carefully. She looked away as soon as she realised that he was looking back. There was something in the way she was looking at him. He was too far away to actually see her facial expression, but it felt like it was more than just curiosity, more than just watching them kick the ball around to each other.

He needed to talk to her.

But how? How was he supposed to get her on his own? Maybe when they were walking home together, though he did ride his bike today. That wouldn’t matter, he would push it beside him, and then he would ask her. He just needed to get through the afternoon. He also needed to get to her before any other lad in the school could try.

The bell rang and Jamie was glad. Now that he had decided that he would ask her after school, on their walk home, he more than anything just wanted the school day to end.

They did have a double Math class together, so at least Jamie knew that he would be with her, and no one else would be able to ask her before he had a chance. Even if it was just as friends, that would be fine with him. He wasn’t totally sure if she had any feelings for him, beyond their friendship, but a lad could dream couldn’t he?

So caught up in his thoughts about asking Claire to the dance after school, he almost missed the way she packed up her bag and was walking to class without him. She’d never done that before. Sure she’d only been there a couple of weeks, and yes she knew her way around the school now, but they had class together. Why didn’t she wait for him?

Jamie quickly ran to collect his bag and catch up with their retreating figures.

“Now I just need to figure out what to wear,” Geillis said to Claire.

“Do people usually get dressed up for these kinds of things?” Claire asked curiously.

“Somewhat. Not as much as when we graduate, ye ken, but still, it’s a nice chance to show off,” Geillis answered. Jamie followed behind them, listening eagerly.

“I suppose so. I don’t think I actually have anything that I could wear to a dance. It’s not a jeans and t-shirt type of affair, is it.”

Geillis scoffed with laughter at Claire’s response. “I suppose I’ll have to take ye shopping with me. Not one of the ones in the main street. I’ll get my Ma to take us to one of the major centres. What about Saturday?”

“Oh,” Claire answered in surprise. Jamie could imagine her blushing, though he couldn’t see her face. “Shopping, yes, of course. Would your Mum mind? Do you need to ask her?”

“Nah, she ken’s it’s comin’ up, so she’ll be expectin’ it. We can ask Mary and Louise too, make a girls day of it.”

“A girl’s day,” Claire repeated. “Sure. Why not.” She giggled nervously as they arrived at the classroom.

“Have ye told Jamie yet?” Geillis asked, her voice dropping dramatically in volume. Jamie almost missed it as Simon O’Hara bumped into him.

“I don’t see why I have to,” Claire answered her question pointedly.

“Weel, Rupert seems to think that he was going to ask ye.”

“How many dates does he need?” Claire replied and Jamie could almost see her rolling her eyes. How many dates did he need? Just the one he had thought, preferably Claire. Unless… Laoghaire. The rumour had spread. Well, that was fine, right? All he needed to do was explain that he wasn’t taking Laoghaire. No harm done!

“Ye might want to check with him, Rupert seemed pretty certain,” Geillis said nervously. Whatever Claire’s response was it was lost to Jamie as the teacher arrived and everyone started to enter the classroom.

Thankfully the seat beside Claire was still empty. She hadn’t decided to sit next to Geillis, though Geillis did give him a pointed look as he sat down.

“I did’na get a chance to talk to you properly at lunch,” Jamie said breathlessly. “And ye left before I had a chance to catch ye up.”

“Sorry, I guess I was just caught up with Geillis,” Claire said, not even sounding remotely sorry. She didn’t look at him either, rather she sat stiffly, facing the front of the room while the other student took their seats.

“Aye, weel, I was wondering if I could talk to ye after school,” Jamie continued, aware that the voices around them were hushing and Mr Sandringham had started writing the day’s lesson outline on the whiteboard.

Claire nodded stiffly before she started to copy the same thing into her notebook.

“After school then,” Jamie mumbled as he opened his own book.

A double period of math had never felt both so long and like the time was flying by. Jamie could barely concentrate, all too aware of the girl sitting beside him. Every shift in her chair, every sigh from her mouth, even when she answered questions, sticking her hand up in the air, Jamie barely felt like he could breathe. It felt like he had done something grossly offensive to her, but he had no idea what. It was the first time that he had truly felt very awkward around her. When he looked up at the clock, barely ten minutes had passed. Then he planned out what he would say to her. How he would explain that he wasn’t going to the dance with Laoghaire, that he really wanted to go with her, and that it was all a big misunderstanding, and the feeling of concrete would come back to his stomach, and then he would look up at the clock and see that almost forty-five minutes had passed.

It was lucky that the maths class was easier than his physics class. He couldn’t imagine how he would be able to concentrate if Claire was in that one with him. The final ten minutes of the school day dragged by. Claire was tapping her fingers on the desk, no longer taking notes as Mr Sandringham droned on.

Eight minutes left and he could explain things to her and they could work out whatever this weird energy was between them.

Five minutes left and he had to remember to pick up his bike from the racks before he left with Claire.

Three minutes left and he hoped that Claire would actually wait for him to pick up his bike and then walk home with her.

Two minutes left and the lump of concrete made its way back to Jamie’s gut. What if she laughed in his face? What if she didn’t believe him about Laoghaire? What if she said yes?

One minute left and Claire was packing up her things. She never packed up her things before the bell. She was traditionally one of the last students to leave the room. Jamie had teased her about it on Friday and she had rolled her eyes at-

The bell rang and Claire shut her textbook with a snap.

“I have to get my bike,” Jamie said quickly, quickly closing his own books, trying to match her speed. She nodded in response and Jamie quickly rose out of his chair. He would sprint to the bike rack if he needed to. Just so long as she didn’t leave without him.

He was puffed and breathing heavily as he waited by the front gates for her. She was walking slowly, talking to Tom Christie. Damn it, Tom Christie. Would the two minutes that it took Jamie to get his bike be enough time for Tom to ask her to the dance? Who was he kidding, of course that would be more than enough time for Tom.

Claire was smiling at something Tom was saying and Jamie felt an unfamiliar stab of jealousy in his wame.

“See you later,” Claire waved before she looked up to see Jamie waiting for her. She was still smiling, but it seemed a little bit forced now.

“Ready?” She asked, and without waiting for a response, exited the school grounds.

Well- It was awkward. It was awkward walking back to Claire’s house. Jamie had it all planned out in his head but now that it was actually time to open his mouth, he felt like it had been glued shut.

“What was the news yer Uncle was so excited about yesterday?” Jamie asked finally.

“Oh,” Claire said, sounding surprised, “he uh, he’s been writing a book and he got a call back from a potential publisher. He needs to go down to Edinburgh in a few weeks to meet with them.”

“That’s amazing!” Jamie exclaimed. “I had no idea!”

“Well, he’s been working on it for a long time. I had no idea that he’d even sent anything off to anyone. So it was a bit out of the blue.”

“What’s the book about?”

Things seemed easier after that. Claire spoke about her Uncle and then her garden most of the way home. Jamie barely could get a word in and that suited him just fine. It was when they rounded the final corner onto her street that his palms really started to sweat.

“So,” he began, trying to take a deep breath and instead coughing slightly on his own saliva. “There’s a rumour going around that I’m takin’ Laoghaire to the dance.”

Claire made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything further.

“Which, to be clear- I am’na taking her to the dance. I have’na asked her, I will’na ask her, and I dinna ken where she got the ridiculous notion to begin wi’,” Jamie continued, feeling himself getting angrier. “I barely even speak to the lass and she’s got all these ideas in her head. I dinna ken what to do about it.”

“Are you asking for my advice?” Claire asked quietly. She sounded shy and Jamie wondered if it was because she knew what was coming- That he was going to ask her.

“No, not so much, I’ll… I’ll ah, deal with the lass myself. But it, uh, I was wonderin’ if ye’d thought about the dance.”

“It’s hard not to think about it when it’s all anyone talks about 24/7,” Claire answered, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes.

“Aye, people do get excited by it. What I meant was, have ye thought about going with anyone?”

“I… erm have thought about it, yes.” Claire said. Their walking had slowed down now, as if they each didn’t want to arrive at her house. As if they were both trying to prolong the moment, to give Jamie the chance to actually finally ask her out.

“Weel, I was wonderin’ it maybe, perhaps, ye would like to go to the dance wi’ me?” Jamie asked nervously. He felt like he was going to vomit. He may as well go the full hog, lay it all out on the line, put their friendship out there and properly ask her for a date. “Ye ken, as my date.”

“Oh… Jamie… I erm,” Claire stumbled over her words and Jamie felt his heart drop somewhere to his feet, or maybe he had left it a few steps back.

“It does’na have to be a date, if ye dinna want it to. We can just go as friends,” he backtracked quickly. He felt so stupid. Of course she didn’t feel that way about him. She was just being nice, as nice as she was to anyone else at school and he’s misread the entire thing. He felt like such an idiot.

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that… Tom said that you were taking Laoghaire and he seemed very certain of it, and then he asked me this morning in Biology and I… well, as you were taking Laoghaire… I said… I told him that I would go with him.”

Jamie felt his jaw drop open. Tom Fucking Christie. That worthless little shitbag, bod ceann of a human. Yesterday he had confirmed the rumour with Jamie wasn’t true and then turned around the next morning and jumped at the chance to ask Claire.

“No problems,” Jamie said automatically, his left fist gripped the handlebar needlessly roughly. “That’s fine. Just ah… ye’ll save me a dance then? There’s always next time.” The words were coming out of his mouth, but Jamie didn’t at all believe that he was the one that was saying it.

Claire seemed to sigh in relief as she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes of course, I’m so sorry, I should have checked with you first. But as you hadn’t asked me yet and so many people were saying that you and Laoghaire-”

“It’s fine, Claire, really,” Jamie interrupted her. “Don’t put yerself out.”

“It’s just that-” Claire tried again before Jamie cut her off once more.

“Truly. I’ll ahh, I’ll see ye tomorrow then.”

“Oh, ok.” Claire nodded but Jamie didn’t see. He swung his leg over his bike. He had to get away from her. He could feel his eyes stinging and while he didn’t think that he was going to cry, (why would he cry over something so stupid) he couldn’t be sure and he sure as hell didn’t want Claire to see that.

Claire turned around to wave goodbye, as she always did when she reached her front door, but Jamie was already gone.

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #fanfiction #jamie x claire #the paper boy #chapter 9 #highschool au

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {14}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Drank margs all day with my mom and im 2 beers in at home....excuse typos lol this chapter is to be continued....

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“That's everyone's dream, isn't it, really? Instead of many who give you little pieces of themselves-one who gives you everything.” ― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

Mila was sitting in the backseat, knowing they were going to see Amarantha, but not really sure of anything else. Azriel hadn’t known how to explain it to her. She was only four. He was trying to make light of it, even though he hadn’t slept at all the night before.

He hated Amarantha.

But he loved his niece.

“Are we almost there?” she asked, looking out the window.

The prison was on the outskirts of the city, and that, to a toddler, felt like hours.

“Yes,” Azriel said, glancing at the clock.

It was just after ten.

“Excited to see mama?” Azriel asked.

Mila’s voice was soft when she said, “Yes.”

It must have been scary, confusing, going to see your mom after you hadn’t seen her in a while, in a new place. Azriel had told her that they would have to not touch Amarantha, there were to be no hugs, and they wouldn’t be able to stay for long.

Mila was confused.

Azriel tried to ease her confusion but wasn’t successful.

By the time he made it through the gates of the prison, Azriel just wanted it all to be over. He pulled Mila out of the car and held her as he walked through the doors.

They were stopped and searched. They forced Azriel to put Mila down as they searched his person, then they sent Mila through security, looking terrified.

“Alright,” Azriel began, gently, when they were inside. “All done. Now we get to go see mama.”

“Why mama here?” Mila whispered.

Azriel just gave her a smile.

They were led to a big meeting room and told to sit, where inmates were already talking with friends and family. Azriel sat with Mila on his lap at a small, round table, and they waited.

Neither of them spoke.

Even Mila, who loved to talk about anything to anyone, stayed silent.

Amarantha was escorted in five minutes later, dressed in her tan scrubs. She saw Mila, and smiled. Azriel didn’t react as his sister met them in the corner, where they sat at the table.

“Hi, my baby,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to Mila’s head.

“Uncle Az says we can’t touch,” Mila said, hand in Azriel’s.

Amarantha hesitated, before sitting across from them. “Well, I can still kiss my baby. How are you? I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Mila said, quietly. “I like staying with Uncle Azzie, though. I go to school and have a unicorn backpack. Uncle Azzie makes me lunch for my batman lunchbox, too.”

“You and Batman,” Amarantha chuckled, and for once, Azriel thought she almost looked human. He and Amarantha used to watch Batman on Saturday mornings - a tradition Azriel brought to Mila the moment she was born. Batman, the best of all superheroes.

“Uncle Azriel seems to be taking good care of you,” Amarantha said, glancing at Azriel.

His eyes were watching his sister, clinging to every word that came out of her mouth, ready to bolt the moment she said something wrong.

“Yeah,” Mila said, finally starting to sound like her real self. “And Aunt Mor and Lain.”

Amarantha raised her eyebrows, then looked at Azriel.

“Mor is home from school for the Summer,” Azriel explained. “Elain is a friend of mine.”

“Lain and Uncle Az are getting married,” Mila beamed.

Amarantha’s brows shot into her hairline.

“No, we’re not,” Azriel began, clearing his throat. “How have you been?”

It was obvious that he was only asking the question so that the spotlight would be off of him.

“Not awful,” Amarantha said, sighing. “Would be nice if you sent money from time to time.”

Azriel, despite himself, laughed. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Help you get a candy bar while you’re locked up.”

Rolling her eyes, Amarantha looked back to Mila. “Tell me about your school, baby.”

They went on talking. Azriel sat still, Mila on his lap, as she talked to her mother. He let them catch up, watching the clock as it ticked by. They would leave soon. He would carry Mila to the car and get her away from there, buy her some ice cream, some chicken nuggets, and return to normalcy.

As much normalcy as they could have.

“You don’t let her stay the night, do you?” Amarantha asked.

Azriel blinked, and when he looked at Amarantha, he realized it wasn’t the first time she had asked. “Sorry, what?”

“This Elain,” she repeated, and Mila was looking back and forth between her mother and her uncle. “She doesn’t stay the night, right? With Mila there? She shouldn’t be seeing that.”

Azriel hesitated. “You’re kidding, right?”

She gave him a look that told him no, she definitely wasn’t.

“I…” Azriel trailed off, laughing. “You’re in fucking prison, and you’re worried about me setting a bad example?”

With thinned lips, Amarantha said, “I still care about my daughter, Azriel.”

“Yeah,” Azriel began. “So do I, which is why I’m fucking here. Don’t ask questions about my personal life. She’s well taken care of. I’ve always taken care of her. You know that, perfectly well.” He took one look into Mila’s eyes and instantly felt guilty.

They were wide, scared, confused, lost.

Azriel sighed. “Sorry, babe. Uncle Az is just tired.”

Mila leaned into his chest, and Amarantha watched the sight with jealousy. “I would like for Mila to come see me once a week, at least.”

Azriel shook his head. “I have a job, Amarantha. And she has school. I can’t get her here every Monday morning.”

“Then find someone who can,” she snapped.

The threat she dished him over the phone days before replayed in his mind. Get her here, or I’ll have her stay with someone who can. You’re replaceable, Azriel.

“Fine,” he gritted out.

Amarantha stood. It was five minutes until twelve. It was time to go.

“I love you,” she smiled, and pressed her lips to Mila’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Mila’s lip wobbled as she nodded. “Love you, mama.”

Amarantha looked at her brother. “Azriel.”

“Amarantha,” he muttered.

She walked away, Mila crying as she watched. Azriel felt helpless. He couldn’t make the situation better. A little bit easier, maybe, but never better. He held Mila closely to him as he stood, thanked the guards, and walked outside.

Mila didn’t say anything else until they were back in the truck.

“Why did mama have to go with those men?” she asked, as Azriel buckled her into her carseat.

“They were guards,” Azriel said, then realized she had no idea what that meant. “They were there to make sure she knew where she was going.”

Mila nodded, slowly.

“Lunch?” Azriel asked. “I was thinking of chicken nuggets and ice cream.”

Mila clapped. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Chicken nuggets and ice cream healed all. Azriel pulled out of the prison’s parking lot and headed back toward the city. Five minutes later, Mila was asleep.

Azriel’s phone rang.

“Hey,” he answered, picking it up quickly, hoping his obnoxious ringtone wouldn’t wake Mila.

“Hey,” Elain said, and he knew she was smiling, which made him smile. “How’d it go?”

“Okay. Could have gone worse,” he said, honestly. “Mila actually handled it pretty well, considering. She only cried and broke my heart a handful of times.”

“It must be hard for her,” Elain said. “She’s a tough little girl, though. And she had you with her, thankfully.”

Azriel shook his head. “You always look at the bright side, don’t you?”

“I try to,” Elain said.

Azriel propped the phone on his shoulder. “I like that about you.” She laughed, quietly. “What are you up to?”

“Getting ready for work,” she answered. “Ready to go sell overpriced kids clothes to a bunch of stay at home moms.”

Azriel chuckled. “Sounds fun.”

“Not so much,” she laughed. “But, I’m excited to see you later.”

“Me too,” he breathed. “I thought maybe, if you want, you could stay over...again.”

Elain paused. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Azriel said, trying to pretend he wasn’t ridiculously nervous every time he asked Elain to stay with him. It wasn’t that he expected anything, but he liked sleeping with her, lying with her in his arms. They kept saying they were going to take things slow, and they had, only sharing kisses and lying together, fully clothed, through the night. But, there was something intimate about sharing a bed with someone, no matter what you were doing in that bed.

Azriel loved that intimacy. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Yeah,” Elain said, softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

~~~~~

“At least the swelling is going down.”

It was true. A few days had passed since Rhyasnd’s incident with Tamlin, and he was able to see out of his eyes more and more as the swelling progressively went down. He had the day off of work, had most of the week off of work, but it sure didn’t make anything any easier. The more time he had off, the more time had off to dwell on everything. Feyre came home on her lunch, every day, fussing over him, even though he claimed he was fine.

And he was fine.

The pain wasn’t so bad. He still looked much worse than he felt. The broken ribs were the worst of it, but it was bearable. And the swelling of his eyes was much better - it was nice to be able to see.

“I thought we could go out tonight,” Rhysand said.

Feyre had just got home not long ago and she was already searching through the fridge, figuring out what to make for dinner.

She hesitated. “I thought it would be nice to stay in.”

“Why?” Rhysand said, trying not to grow frustrated. “I haven’t left the house in days.”

“I just prefer to stay home,” she murmured, closing the refrigerator before opening up the freezer.

“Afraid people will stare?” Rhysand snapped. “I get I look like shit right now, Feyre, but I can’t hide in the house.”

Feyre slammed the freezer door shut before turning to look at him, arms crossed. “No. I’m not afraid people will stare. But I am afraid that everyone we pass is going to report back to Tamlin, and he’ll find a way to make things worse.”

Rhysand raked a hand through his messy, black hair. “You act like he’s the head of the fucking mob.”

Feyre’s lips tightened, but she said nothing. She simply opened the fridge, once more.

“Whatever,” Rhysand shook his head. “I’m going out.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not!” she said, slamming a thawed package of chicken breasts onto the counter. And Rhysand instantly felt guilty, because there were tears in her eyes. “Please.”

Rhysand shook his head. “I’m not scared of him, Feyre, and you shouldn’t be either. It’s fucking Tamlin. He can only do so much harm.”

Feyre stared at him. “I just don’t feel like going out. And if you love me, you won’t fight me on this.”

The words were soft, all of her bite gone, her eyes dry.

“You can’t keep using that,” Rhysand mumbled. “If you love me...You know I do.”

“Too much,” Feyre said.

“Not possible,” Rhysand breathed. “Even though you’re being a pain in the ass.”

Feyre’s eyes rolled. “The only pain in the ass here is you.”

Rhysand pushed himself off the couch and walked into the kitchen, Feyre watching each of his steps with narrowed eyes. When he reached her, he took her face into his hands and planted his mouth on her forehead. “I know.”

This earned him a smile. She traced the black designs inked across his chest. “It has nothing to do with you, with how you look. I’m just not ready to go out yet. I feel violated. And, yes, I feel scared. I know you can handle it, you can take care of yourself and all that, but I’m not ready to get another call, calling me to the hospital because you were knocked unconscious.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pushing her hair back. “We can stay in. I’ll help cook.”

Feyre arched a brow. “You’re going to help me cook?”

“I can cook.”

“We both know that’s total bullshit.”

Rhysand barked a laugh. “Challenge accepted.”

Feyre stilled. “What?”

“I’m making you dinner.”

“That’s not what-”

“Sit back and relax, Feyre, darling. I’ve got this.”

With a look of pure uncertainty, Feyre sat down by the island, hesitantly, and folded her hands together. “Can I at least-”

“No.”

“But I-”

“Nope.”

Feyre scowled. “Fine. But I’m going to sit here and judge you the entire time.”

Rhysand grinned, grabbing a bottle of wine from the stand and a glass from the cabinet. He poured it, the glass filling halfway, and slid it to Feyre on the island. “Enjoy.”

“Enjoy watching you burn everything?” Feyre asked, fingers pulling the glass of sweet white wine toward her.

“Would it help if I were naked?”

Feyre howled. “Although I wouldn’t mind, I prefer you don’t jeopardize my favorite part. If little Rhys were to get burned, I’d be heartbroken.”

“Little Rhys?” he grinned, pulling out a bunch of asparagus. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

“What do you usually call him?”

“I don’t know,” Rhysand said, shrugging. “Something that sounds a little more dangerous than Little Rhys.”

Feyre sipped her wine as she watched Rhysand cut up the raw chicken. “Like what?”

Rhysand laughed, tossing the cut-up chicken into a skillet. “I don’t know. Maybe Bruce. Or Wolverine.”

Feyre nearly spat out her wine. “You want me to start referring to your penis as Bruce?”

“You’re right,” Rhysand hummed. “Definitely Wolverine.”

Their night went on like that: nice, easy, light. He did everything he could to make her laugh, to make her smile, to make her forget about Tamlin, her fears, her discomfort.

To her surprise, Rhysand didn’t burn their food. And to both of their surprise, it actually tasted pretty damn good.

After they ate, Rhysand did the dishes, no matter how much she protested, saying that he needed to relax.

He was tired of relaxing.

With a little more wine, her protests died down, and after Rhysand was done cleaning up the kitchen, she dragged him down the hall, to his bed, where they made love until Feyre was sleeping, soundly.

Rhysand watched her sleep, admired her soft snoring.

He hated Tamlin for making her scared.

Rhysand couldn't live like that, Feyre could live like that, full of fear and paranoia.

It seemed Rhysand would have to do something to end it, once and for all, sooner rather than later.

~~~~~

“Hey, Bartender.”

Nesta’s eyes snapped over to the other end of the bar, where Cassian sat, grinning.

“Come to get drunk on a weeknight?” She asked. “Don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Bright and early,” he said, eyes narrowed. “Whiskey.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “It’s always whiskey.”

“Of course it is,” Cassian agreed. “Be nice to me, though. You don’t want me to leave you a shitty tip.”

Nesta snorted. “You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, watching her lean over the bar, toward him. “I promise to give you a good tip. And an even better tip, once you clock out.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed as his grin widened.

“Fuck off,” she muttered, but was unable to control her smile.

Cassian laughed, but Nesta had frozen halfway to fulfill his request, because the door had opened, and someone new had walked in. He caught Nesta’s eye and walked toward the bar, sitting close to Cassian, only a stool away.

“Beer,” he said, grinning. “Whatever’s on tap.”

Cassian had seen him, too. Of course, he had. There weren’t that many people there, and he’d sat right by him. Nesta shook it off, grabbing a glass and filling it with whiskey. She slowly walked back to Cassian and set it down in front of him.

Cassian didn’t touch it.

He was looking at Tomas.

~~~~~

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@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit

@6255igntm

@littlehoneyybee

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn

@julemmaes

@regular-nessian-trash

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #tacmc AITA #feysand #nessian #elriel #sjm #modern au #fanfic #fanfiction

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years

Text

The Last Night Part V

Author’s Notes: Hey all you cool cats and kittens (she did it), here is Part V of my Jordelia (and friends) fanfiction based off of the lovely characters from Cassandra Clare’s novel Chain of Gold. The song sung in the dream sequence is a Persian Children’s song called You Are The Sky's Great Moon. I’m not sure of the author, unfortunately, but it was not me. I just thought it fit so perfectly for how Cordelia feels about her friends and how they feel about her. I am terribly sorry about the wait on this one, but it’s quite possibly my favorite piece yet. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, if this did tickle your fancy, please hit the <3, reblog, or pop in with a comment. Comments grow my heart and fill me with motivation. Stay safe. Stay healthy. Stay sane. We’re almost out of the woods.

P.S- This one might require some reading of the previous parts. So, here they are in order if you want to catch up:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

.Part V.

Cordelia stood in the center of the ballroom of the London institute. It was larger than she remembered it: empty now of the elaborately dressed guests, the waiting staff, the noise of the quartet, and tables of food. The curtains were all drawn away from the arched cathedral windows illuminated the space in the warm light of the auspicious London sun burning away the last hours it had in the sky. The distant London skyline was bathed in blue with not a cloud to be seen for miles. No smoke billowed into the sky from factories or chimneys; no boats crowded the harbors as if she were looking at a picture of London. It felt so warm to be in the light, she wanted nothing more than to bath it in and never leave.

A light pressure wrapped around her elbow. She turned around to and found herself facing her mother, with her dark hair loose in curls to her waist, standing in front of her.

“Mâmân?” Relief filled her as she wrapped her arms around Sona’s waist and buried her face in her shoulder.

“Layla.” Her mother’s hand slid down the back of Cordelia’s head, fingers sliding through the tendrils. “Do you remember that song we used to sing together when you were a child?"

Sona grabbed Cordelia’s hand; the other pressed against her shoulder blade and suddenly they were dancing across the room. An odd thing, to be dancing with one’s mother, but Cordelia didn’t mind. A smile spread across her face as she matched her mother’s footwork as they spun around the room.

“It’s been such a long time since we sang it,” said Sona. “I cannot seem to remember how it begins.”

Sona released Cordelia in a spin, the delicate soutache embroidered golden mesh of her dress billowed out around her ankles, and when she turned back around Lucie was standing in her mother’s place. Her tawny hair was twisted back in an intricate braid and her eyes, the same intense blue as the Tenerife sea, glistened as she grabbed Cordelia’s hand. Cordelia had never realized how lacking in height Lucie was— but then Lucie had never invited her to dance.

“If you are the sky’s great moon.” Lucie’s clear voice filled the empty ballroom as she began reciting the childhood lullaby as they floated in a semi-circle around the room. “I’ll become a star and go around you.”

Lucie paused and stepped away from Cordelia, their hands outstretched, but still clasped together like when they were children swinging around in a circle until they both collapsed from dizziness.

Lucie let go and looked over Cordelia’s shoulder. She turned around just as Matthew strolled across the room in a pinstripe suit and picked her up under the arms and lifted her off of the floor. “If you become a star and go around me, I’ll become a cloud and cover your face.”

Just as he set her back on her feet, a hand clasped her own and spun her around. “Thomas?”

He turned and shuffled down the room with her beside him. “If you become a cloud and cover my face.”

“I’ll become the rain and will rain down.” She turned to her right to find Christopher.

They raised her arms and both bent at the waist in a bow before disappearing like the rest. Anna came from behind her and walked in a small perimeter around her. Cordelia’s eyes trailed her every step. “If you become the rain and rain down.”

Alastair walked in the opposite direction of Anna. “I’ll become grass and spring.” The crossed each other and disappeared to opposite sides of the room, leaving Cordelia in the center, right underneath the three tiered crystal chandelier.

A hand slide around her waist. She felt the feather light tickle of fingers sliding down the bare skin of her arm until fingers slide into the spaces between her own. A body pressed firmly against hers from behind. The hand tightened around her middle and she felt someone’s breath on the exposed skin of her neck. “Daisy, my Daisy.”

There was only one boy who called her that.

She spun around to face him. She was so close to him she could see the faint random freckles across his nose and cheekbones. His hair was disorderly, as it always was: a piece fell across his brows, and his warm gold eyes moved across her face as if she were a painting, studying each individual line and stroke and shape that made up the whole picture.

“James.”

A sharp pain lanced through her ribcage, stealing her breath, as she fell limp against him. It was only then that she noticed a great shadow had stretched across the ballroom stealing away the warmth and the light.

James head bent until his forehead pressed against her own. “When you become grass and spring, I’ll become a flower and sit next to you.”

The shadow inched closer to them until they were a pinpoint in the center of the room. Her hands clung to the fabric of his shirt until her knuckles became white as she drew herself up so their noses were aligned. They recited the last line together. “When you become a flower and sit next to me, I’ll become a nightingale and sing for you.”

A feeling like the floor dropping out from her feet pulled Cordelia away as she was ripped from James once more.

***

It was dark, that much Cordelia could tell, and it was cold. So cold the tips of her fingers ached. She was flat on her stomach, laying on something hard- stone possibly— that chilled her to her core. A dull, but intensifying pain, ached on the right side of her ribcage with every breath that she took. It was also the only part of her that felt enflamed with heat. Her lungs felt too full, the air scratched against the back of her throat as though she’d inhaled a mouth full of soot. She tried to cough, but nearly cried out from the pain in her ribcage.

Moving didn’t seem like a viable option, but neither did lying still. She tried to walk carefully through her memories to figure out where she might be. The last thing she remembered was James. He held her so tight; he was so warm and then everything was so cold again. She had said goodbye to James. Then Alastair— she’d been in a carriage with Alastair. The memory of him lying, bleeding in the street made her cringe. She had to find him—to get her stele and get to him.

Her arms shook as she pushed herself to her feet; her teeth clenched so tightly they might crack from the pressure. The pain was agonizing, spotting her vision with white dots; it was only then that she noticed the ground beneath her hands turned to fine powder and disappeared in a gust of wind.

She had been here before, that much she was sure of. The smell of acidic rot and decaying flesh was difficult to forget. Everything around her was orange and hazy like being surrounded by a blazing fire, but without the heat.

“Welcome back,” said a clear, deep voice that rang through her like the bass of thunder.

Cordelia stilled, bent awkwardly on her hands and knees. She looked up in the direction the voice had come from.

He was dressed much the same as the last time she’d seen him, in an all white tailored suit complete with black buttons that glistened like eyes- perhaps they were eyes. His pale gray hair swept across his face; in much the same way as James’, but she would not allow herself to think about that.

“Didn’t I stab you?” asked Cordelia.

Belial moved towards her, the tails of his coat flapping in the desert-like wind. “I faintly remember something about that, yes.”

“If at once one doesn’t succeed, one must try again.” Cordelia reached for Cortana with the arm on her uninjured side, but found that her hand closed around empty air where the hilt should be.

Belial smiled mockingly.

“Where is Cortana?”

“Where it fell,” said Belial. “You see I don’t often make mistakes, but on the rare occasion that I do, I am sure not to make the same one again.”

Cordelia’s head dropped and she looked at her hands. The knuckles on her right hand were bleeding; the pinky on her left hand was angry, swollen, and bend out of place at the joint. Dried blood encased her arms from her elbows to her wrists. There was pain everywhere, enough to swallow anyone whole, but still she tucked her legs underneath herself and sat up with her hands resting on her thighs, as if she were presenting him with an offering.

The last time she’d been in the shadow realm, she had been with James. They had held each other, defended one another, and barely managed to escape with their lives. Self-preservation hadn’t been a thought in her mind, as if James and herself were one entity, there was none without the other. Now, alone, self-preservation rang through her blood- Shadowhunter blood- every sense awakened and alert; desperate for a fight or an escape.

“What is it that you want from me?” asked Cordelia, the words shook on her lips.

Belial chucked, it echoed around them. “Nothing from you.”

“James.” Cordelia caught her breath and gripped her ribcage. When she looked down at her hand again it was covered in blood. There was a hole in her dress, just underneath her breast, the whole front of her was covered in a dark stain. “He won’t come. He thinks I’m in Idris with my—Alastair. What have you done with Alastair?”

“Consider him a calling card,” he said. “He was wounded quite gravely, but left with enough breath to relay a message as soon as your friends find him. It’s been extremely difficult to capture the attention of either of my grandchildren especially while I… healed, but after some careful observations, I believe I have exactly what will capture their attention.”

Cordelia’s hands clenched around the fabric of her dress, still damp from the rain. “He won’t come.”

“You don’t think so?” Belial raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’re right, but no matter, he is not the one that I require.”

Cordelia looked up again. Belial’s face hadn’t changed. It remained expressionless with the stoic passivity of a graveyard statue. “Who— who else would you—“ The thought dawned on her like a punch to the stomach. “Lucie.”

“Very good. I was afraid you were only bronze and no brain,” said Belial. He waved a hand in the air, and for a moment, Cordelia caught the faint outline of an automobile speeding down a London street. The two passengers in the front seemed to be squabbling with one another, a much larger figure sat in-between them with his neck bent awkwardly so his head wouldn’t burst through the top of the cab. Three more figures sat side-by-side in the back, one of them was Lucie. The picture focused on her face, gazing out the window, her body present but her mind lost in thought. “My granddaughter. It’s true, I overlooked her at first, believing James to be the true vessel because of his connection with the shadow realm, but that is until it came to my attention that my granddaughter holds the power to summon the dead. While I did prefer a male form, James is merely an adolescent traveler, jumping from realm to realm as if on holiday.”

The burning intensified in Cordelia’s chest. She could feel sweat drip down her spine despite the chill.

“Lucie?” Cordelia nearly laughed. Sweet, unassuming Lucie— with ink stains on her fingers and her mind constantly in the pages of her stories— with the ability to summon the dead. “You must be mistaken. If Lucie had the ability to summon the dead, I’m sure that I would know about it. I am her— best friend.”

“Didn’t you just abandon her to go home to Idris?” His lips curled.

Cordelia shook her head. “No, I—“ She caught her breath and nearly bent over from the pain. “No, I wanted to spare her the humiliation of being seen with me after I—“ She raised herself up again. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“No, I’d much prefer it if you didn’t actually,” said Belial, examining his shoes as if they held more interest to him than the entirety of the conversation.

“If what you’re saying is true,” said Cordelia, a shudder went through her whole body as the pieces started to come together in her mind. Her mouth became impossibly dry. “Then Lucie would—“

“Be able to summon an army of the undead,” said Belial, as if it were a completely normal thing to do like walking. “A truly wonderful thing about dead people is that you can’t kill them… again. They’ll be unstoppable in destroying your realm: killing, pillaging, destroying, so that I can come and claim it as my own.”

Cordelia let out a deep breath. “Just once I would like for a villain to come up with a less egregious plan than world domination. However, considering who you are— thief of realms and all— this is rather right on character.”

Belial spread his arms out to his sides and bowed at the waist.

“Lucie won’t do it,” said Cordelia, oddly calm. It was one thing she was absolutely sure of.

“Do you not think so?” Belial squatted down in front of her, still feet away as though she were a wild animal that might attack him at any moment. He was smart— she would. “I didn’t think so either. Not willingly, not unless I had something of great importance to her.” His eyes narrowed. “I tried to capture James but he had more wards around him due to my last attempt. I thought my dear daughter, Tessa, but Tessa seems like the explosive type. Unreasonable, like she might throw herself onto a blade before being used. Then there was her father, William, well I’ll just admit I feared I’d be decapitated before Lucie had a chance to join us.” He cleared his throat. “Her other friends, while they hold great importance to her and would have done the trick, there was the little dilemma of you and that blade. It seemed you were the most logical choice.

“You did make it quite difficult for me,” said Belial. “Always following James around like a loyal dog. I had to think of some way to separate the two of you. That’s where the Blackthorn girl came into play.”

“Grace,” said Cordelia. “Are you controlling, Grace?”

“Not directly,” purred Belial, “but I am not without my connections. You see, I promised the Blackthorn’s to raise their beloved Jesse if they served me. After that, they were like clay in my hands.

“When I found out the Blackthorn girl already had James under a binding spell, it all became rather easy.” Belial laughed. “He went to her like a drunk goes to ale.”

Cordelia swayed slightly and fell to her hip, her arm outstretched to catch her. Tears burned her eyes with rage. How could she know nothing of Lucie’s power; nothing of Grace’s spell on James. It seemed perhaps Belial was right about one thing. Perhaps she didn’t know her dear friends at all.

Belial’s eyes danced and flickered over her, taking in her expression, her resolve, her bleeding waist.

“Don’t die yet Miss Carstairs.” Belial turned his back to her and crossed his arms. His eyes took to the darkened sky as if waiting for something to fall from it. “There is still a need for you.”

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calla-lefford · 3 years

Text

The funeral of Grover Tully

Location: The Riverlands, Riverrun

Under the cut you will find Calla’s interactions at Grover Tully’s funeral with Wylla Tully ( @wyllatully ), Garrett Erenford ( @garrett-erenford ), Garland Hightower ( @garlandhightower ), Brynden Tully ( @rvrprnc ), Cedric Tyrell ( @visxionaries ), Harrion Stark ( @harrionstark ), Henry Lannister ( @henryoflannister ), Elyse Tully ( @goldcnaura ), Cian Tully ( @rxverlanders ), Hal Storm Jaehaerys Targaryen ( @targaryenstorm ), Mellara Tully ( @mellaratully ), Tyrin Lannister ( @tyrinlan ), Guinevere Lannister ( @gcuienveres ), Clare Tully ( @ladyotheriver ) and Araya Frey ( @ladycfthecrossing )

WYLLA TULLY: Planning and execution were two of Wylla Tully's greatest skills. There was nothing she couldn't put together that would not be excellent. A dinner to bring together the allied forces against Grover Tully in the very halls he used to roam on the same day he was buried as the Tully tradition dictated? Easy. A meal fine enough for kings but still tame enough for a funeral day was spread out for the family and their guests. As the last servant poured the wine and the last plate was brought out to pick from, she motioned for the family and guests to dig in. “Please, enjoy yourselves.” She kept her voice relatively somber, settling down in her chair fully after she spoke to the room, eyes settling on faces she'd never seen but had helped end her father's tyranny in one way or another.

GARRETT ERENFORD: The commander's respect for Grover Tully had been nonexistent, though a man in his position could at least pretend a certain amount of deference for the old trout. It was expected of him to be present at an event such as this one, he supposed, though he only found himself in attendance because of Grover's children, not the corpse himself. Some of them were family to him. As Wylla Tully spoke, he raised his glass and nodded in silence, knowing better than to offend her with condolences. He didn't say honorable words about the old man, all he hoped for was that the gods -if there truly were deities watching over this wretched world- would grant the Tully children long, better lives than that of their late father.

GARLAND HIGHTOWER: Garland didn't know why he was here. Well, he did, he knew his prince had decided on a deal with the Riverlands that made balancing the Reach's coffers and books more than a headache for the past few weeks as all the last details were ironed out between him and the Lord Frey in charge of the Riverland's gold. Sitting next to Cedric, Garland kept his wounded leg straight under the table while the good one bounced with anxiety as he drained his first glass of wine after given leave by the Tully princess. Such a position also let him favor the arm of his chair closest to his future king. “So far everything's settled in terms of the numbers, and we can start everything agreed upon when we return to Highgarden.” he said low enough to Cedric. “Unless you have last minute changes?”

BRYNDEN TULLY: There has been a long time coming. Between justice and un, the Tully children have been dealt a strong deal of both. Where they are now is not without the strength of family, duty, and honor that they make of their words and their values. Though, there was question brought to Brynden. What are they if not family? They stick together, their bond is true, but what are they if individual beings? A king is a king, not equal to one's brothers and sisters, nor even parents. A king is individual. Brynden could not be, he could not rule without his four sisters and half brother a title as great, and so would it be fair to call him king? Most especially after his findings? Findings calling another, king. There had been much thinking, observing done in the most recent of days. Questions of strength, self, and integrity. All Brynden knew he could be, or wanted to be was who he was before the war, and it was the version of self he would give it all up to go back to. His siblings would always be his siblings, and now he would choose to always be him, the Brynden that came before the neverending dance with spins and twirls. Brynden clears his throat, calling forth the attention of those who are seated around him. “Call it what you may, but this is an unfortunate passing, a passing that came not by traitorous acts, traitorous allies; worn masks by foes. Today I lost a father, and my siblings theirs. Today my father and mother meet again by the grace of the Seven. There is loss here, and there is sadness. And at the end of the day we all sit here, yours and ours,” he gestures to the parties joining the Tullys. “To bid farewell to one king and welcome another in his place. A place, that was meant for me.” His eyes move to Cedric, “but it is a place I cannot take, and will not take.” He raises from his lap a paper that he hands to him first, “It is for Cian to take. The legitimized heir, signed by with no other than the handwriting of my father.”

CEDRIC TYRELL: Cedric found himself remaining briefly in the Riverlands for the funeral of a king; an anointed king, with a bloodline that could be traced for a thousand years, he who seemed the most stable of all high within the walls of Riverrun. For the situation had grown effortlessly dire, with the River King remaining safe behind the walls of Riverrun whilst it looked as though they would have to siege; and all of Westeros knew, one could not siege Riverrun as though it were simply a castle made of paper cards. “See to it the books are kept safe under lock and key until we have returned to our soil.” Cedric spoke under his breath as he watched a serving girl pour him a glass of wine, turning his attention toward Brynden Tully, who had risen from his seat to utter some words. Family was a fickle matter; Cedric perhaps understood better than others how dire relationships between family could become, giving the correct circumstances. After all, were there not thoughts in the back of his mind, hoping the King of Thorns would befall some tragic accident?

Bringing the goblet of wine to his lips, he noticed the man's eyes looking over at him; they were beginning a new chapter of life around similar times. At least, that was until... his thoughts trailed to the books he had just spoken to his Master of Coin about; he had made his condition explicitly clear, it was only his childhood friend Brynden he would trust to start this journey with; with Reach money funding the Riverlands, there would be progress. Or would have been. There were no words to come from his mouth, his gaze remaining fixed on the man, his orbs becoming increasingly colder with each minute. Then, finally. “It would be wise to reconsider.”

HARRION STARK: Harrion felt like he had stepped back in time, sitting in the hall at Riverrun like he had done so many time during his time fostered here. And yet, so very much had changed. For one, Grover Tully’s formidable figure no longer sat at the front of the room. He had spent most of the day with his eyes trained like a hawk on Elyse, watching for any sign that she might not be alright, and moving to stand next to her or to throw her a smile across the crowd when it seemed so.

He had found a seat next to her during dinner, his leg pressed reassuringly against hers under the table in a manner neither of them had chosen to acknowledge. His wolfskin cloak, the best he owned, was draped over the back of her chair from when he had wrapped it protectively around her shoulders on their way back inside. Normally the loudest man in every room, his rough norther accent unmissable, he had grown quiet tonight.

When Brynden, the oldest friend he has, the closest thing he has to a brother next to Rodrik, clears his throat, Harrion’s attention is caught like a fish in a net. His head tilts ever so slightly to one side, a frown marring his brow, trying to figure out what it means. He manages to bite down on the curse against the dead man that threatens to leave his lips. It was not often he would willingly agree with a Tyrell, but he nodded his assent. “Bryn…” he looked from the man he had always assumed would take Grover’s place at the helm of the Riverlands and then the the Rivers bastard of the same auburn hair as the rest of them. “Surely not…”

HENRY LANNISTER: Truthfully; Henry Lannister little for the Grover king, and even less for the Tullys overall, for it seemed as though once again some element of family theatrics were spilling before the world stage. The man, dressed in velvet maroon and gold, was sat to the left of his siblings. he took a deep gulp of the Arbor wine in his goblet as the Tully prince stood to make a speech, no doubt regarding his limp, dead father. The man was expressionless, his eyes surveying the notable guests in attendance, those who had made their presence known, those who had sent delegates and thoughts and respects. In truth, such a man who would risk such turmoil upon his own lands would not be granted a funeral; but rather be hung, drawn and quartered. If one chose to behave like a thirsty animal in life, they would meet their end like an animal.

Though, his eyes looked up as it seemed Brynden Tully was renouncing his right to the River throne, all for a man called Cian to come and take. His gaze fixed upon the other Tully male, older than the prince in question, who looked as though the world had just been flipped from beneath his feet. Looking sideways at Tyrin and Guinevere, he simply shook his head. It was not something they should pursue any further, in his own opinion; they needed to ally with an experienced leader. “It no longer benefits this family.”

ELYSE TULLY: The mood had altered so much within the span of minutes that the Tully princess nearly felt faint. It made her queasy to think that things truly were out of their control. She had laid her eyes upon the lit boat, the flames embracing it had taken a liking to the river all the same. The girl had stood there, watching the flames for a moment too long before turning her back on whatever remained of Grover Tully. Harrion had been waiting for her, he had wrapped his cloak around her and she had gratefully accepted. Though the chills that claimed her body were perhaps not because of the wind.

Light gaze watched her brother as he stood, comforted by the presence of her family and the touch of the northern prince. she is unsure what she was expecting from Brynden but the words that spew from his lips… well, she was not expecting that. Gaze flickers instinctively to Wylla and she bites back a grimace as Cedric speaks. Eyes find her big brother, legitimized by her late father as a last means of perhaps being a pain even in death. She’s conflicted - Brynden had grown up expecting to take his father’s place, knowing he would and now… Cian was everything his siblings always saw him as. A Tully, not a Rivers.

“Cian?” Elyse calls quietly, glancing at him where he sat besides her. “Are you alright?” His life was about to change just as much as the rest of theirs and she cannot help but worry for him, wonder what exactly is going through his mind. Finally, her gaze finds Brynden. What was to come of him? “And what of yourself, brother ??” There’s heaviness in her heart, a silent sign she will not like his answer. Slowly, a hand finds Harrion’s beneath the table.

CIAN TULLY: The man remained sat as his brother rose to his feet, ready to make his euology regarding Grover Tully; and what a man he was, long before the dragons danced in the sky. He was a man that endured his bastard son was treated well within the triangle walls of Riverrun, ate at the same table as his siblings, was in family portraits, was called son regardless of surname; Cian himself never once felt a sense of resentment or anger toward his father, for it was his inviting nature and his prioritisation of family that gave Cian the confidence to be the man he was today. For yes, he were a bastard; but he were more than that too.

And yet, as Cian listened intently to the words of his brother, there were certain words he did not think to ever hear. For he had been legitimised; he was a Tully in name and heart. And yet, it came at a price, a price that could knock the wind from him. The man rose to his feet briefly, standing beside his brother and putting a hand on his shoulder, keeping his voice incredibly low.

“Come on lad..” Cian muttered, his tone concerned yet there was an element of irritation behind it, at the very back of his throat. “Think rationally, he wasn't in his greatest of minds toward his final days. This...” he trailed off, a slight laugh of shock escaping from his lips. “This isn't happening.”

HAL STORM JAEHAERYS TARGARYEN: Tension. It made him nostalgic for family dinners. He almost wanted to stand and give a speech. He didn't have a speech to give. He was hungry and he did want to eat. There were pluses. He could learn something new. There could be some information that he didn't know before. Jae looked around the table and smiled into his cup, taking another drink.

He didn't care about the Tullys. He didn't really hate fish unless it was in a stew. Maybe something thick cut. Jae put his cup down and considered offering something. He supposed that all funerals came with their own sort of tensions. Headaches. Dead men meant one thing. Schemes and Jae liked schemes. Especially schemes he could watch safely from the sidelines.

“Enjoy is a strong recommendation. give the circumstances. lovely table setting.”

MELLARA TULLY: The words from her brother clearly sent a shock wave throughout the entire hall. It was clear none of them knew this information was coming. Mel stared at her brother, dumbfounded he had no warned her of his news to come. After all the two of them had been through together. Everything at Dragonstone the two of them suffered, the night of the attack, the trials. Their time in the Vale, the war. All of that they had shared together and he could not tell her of this earth-shattering news.

Her eyes flickered over to Cian, clear by his expression he had little idea what was happening either. Cian was a good man, a good brother to them all. A Tully like he always had been. There was little doubt in her mind about that. But never had she thought of him becoming king, since that spot had always been in line for Brynden. And now everything was out of sorts. The quiet in the hall seemed never-ending as she waited for someone to say something. Lucian happily babbling away sitting on her lap stretching out his arms to his nearby aunts for attention, not aware of the changes his family was facing.

Mel wanted to say something to Cian but before she could, he rose from his seat and went towards their brother. Mel unsure of what to say or what even could be said. “Is this not something that should be discussed later?” she asked, her voice low hoping only her siblings could hear it. There were too many others here. But maybe that's what Brynden wanted. To announce in front of others. His words could not be taken back now after being heard by so many.

TYRIN LANNISTER: Tyrin is a man for surprises, but not this one. This news would mean that the Lannisters and the Westerlands would have to come up with a plan B, but they only ever needed their plan A's. There was frustration, anger within him. The wine he was to bring to taste, near came pouring out of his mouth. Who would give up their regency? And to a bastard? “You speak against your region if you speak for a bastard.” A bastard should never be king. Clare was better suited for queen than was a bastard and she was a full-blooded daughter when a full-blooded son was born and still breathed. The Tullys and Riverlands would be another weak link for the Lannisters and Westerlands. Already Alaric and his own wife failed them, his wife proving again the queen she is by not attending. “What better is it for a bastard to take the Riverlands based off of a dead man's word? A formerly mad dead man's word?” he near wants to laugh. “You favor not an alliance, but a foe when you choose to put a bastard on your already cracking throne to weaken your kingdom and those they align with.”

GUINEVERE LANNISTER: Guinevere's head had been leaning in her cousin Calla's direction, the girls engaging in some talk regarding the members of noble society that had made themselves present for what they all silently prayed was the final curtain call on the Tully matter. The topic of conversation had also fallen onto a certain Lord Hightower; whom her cousin would soon find herself wed to, should all go smoothly and according to plan. She fell quiet however when she saw a distant head of auburn hair stand upon their feet, setting her cold glass of water down and looking briefly across the faces of the Tully chldren; they were to be the next generation of their neighbours, and she truly hoped the two regions would be able to secure a benefit from their close geographical proximity.

The words of Brynden Tully had caught her attention, the words drying from her throat as she sat and fully contemplated the consequences. Her two brothers seemed to move first, as they always did, though she remained in her seat. She didn't look over at the prince, whom she had discussed a deal with; though a trip to the wall had been left out before she approached the matter with the Lion King. She bit back her words on the tip of her tongue, words that would no doubt only add to the tension. All the benefits for trade with the Riverlands still stood, though their leadership was now firmly under question. Was it a risk worth taking? There had to be more, another promise, another bind to the alliance; her eyes fell over to the Tully women, one she had never seen before... “Can we not strengthen this partnership by adding to it?” she asked, glancing slightly at Tyrin, before looking over at Harry.

CALLA LEFFORD: The eldest of the Lefford children behaved as the courteous woman her mother had raised her to be, offering condolences to the newly orphaned sons and daughters of Grover Tully. A plentiful dinner was served for those in attendance and Calla found her place by her cousin’s side. At any given situation she chose Gwen’s company above anyone else’s, and that was especially true throughout this dreary matter. They chatted privately regarding Lord Hightower, the man she was bound to marry. The crippled knight, she’d called him when speaking to her mother. If anything, this event might serve as an excuse to begin seeing if there was more to the man than being crippled.

Calla did wonder how many of those present here truly mourned the passing of the old king and how many found themselves present due to some requirement of some kind. She took some sips of her wine and watched the chaos erupt between the Tullys after Brynden’s unexpected announcement. She schooled her expression into a composed, dignified one; though she couldn’t help but feel partially amused by the sheer stupidity of airing these sorts of matters in front of an audience. What credibility could be in a house that didn’t have its own affairs in order? “Pardon me, my lords,” she glanced towards Brynden and then to Cian, “It must be the wine causing some confusion,” she smiled politely. She was perfectly sober in spite of the goblet in her hand, a drink she nursed slowly while continuing to pay attention to those around her. She never got drunk in public events. “So, who’s to be called king after all this?”

CLARE TULLY: Clare took her seat next to Wylla, knowing full well she could trust the other with the underhanded comments she would surely be muttering to her all evening. The last thing she wanted to do was play the part of the mourning daughter of Grover Tully in front of the many Kings, Lords, and Ladies of Westeros. It felt like putting on a mask. It was feign. It was exhausting. Clare was tired of the pretending, but she assured herself this evening would be the last, and then gods willing she would have to speak of Grover Tully no more. She took a long sip of wine, her second glass already, a choice she'd likely come to regret, but the bold flavors of the liquid filled her with a courage she feared she couldn't muster on her own. Along with her siblings, she knew she'd make it through this night. That was, until Brynden spoke, shocking the entirety of the dinner party in one fell swoop.

At Mellara's comment about private matters, Clare gave a firm nod and spoke quietly back, “It should have been spoken of earlier.” Her voice was harsher than she intended, but her frustration was clearly not aimed at her sister. Clare closed her eyes, only a few seconds, composing herself, especially of the Tyrell King's comment, before sitting straighter, formulating an appropriate, diplomatic response in her mind. “Trust is not earned over dinner, alliances are not forged strongly in just one generation. Your graces, my lords, my ladies, surely you will give the Riverlands a chance to prove your trust would not be earned in vain. We, together, plan to continue our father's vision for our Kingdom, as duty, honor, and family are the core values we all hold dearly. Many of you put your trust into Brynden, and perhaps our father before him, I implore you to trust his decision in this, or at the very least, open your mind to it.” It was important to her to leave options on the table, and she hoped that even if one at this table took her words to heart, it might make all the difference.

ARAYA FREY: The passing of her great uncle was bittersweet for most of the river lands who had seen first hand how the man had slowly lost his mind, to put it ever so bluntly. She sympathized with her cousins of course, because mad or not he was still their father. The woman also could not help but recall the passing of her own parents on this day, and it made the whole affair all that much unbearable. Thus her goblet wasn’t without wine from the moment it had first been filled. It was when Bryn made his announcement that she finally had reprieve from the looming grief, a distraction. Her gaze sought out her brothers curious to see how he was reacting to this news, and then Garrett though ever so fleetingly. “And here I was expecting a peaceful dinner. ” She muttered into her wine glass. Though anyone who knew her at all could guess at how dreadful the idea of peaceful anything was to her.

WYLLA TULLY: She was seeing red. Her younger brother had gone and decided a public dinner with their allies was the best time to bow out and throw them a stranger, their brother, to rip apart while he ducked away from the throne. She could understand why, with what grover had put his heir through and perhaps how unprepared he might feel... but now was not the time to tell everyone. Definitely not the time to tell his own family. It was the foreign royalty that kept her mostly contained, but anyone could see a fire in the Tully's eyes as she stood, kicking away her chair and snatching their father's legitimization to read herself. “As the only sibling with free access to our father in his last days, I can attest our father was more intent on causing chaos than he was on domestic affairs. This surprises even myself.” She made her voice carry through the hall, the tone cold as she read the paper. She knew the handwriting anywhere, and it was real. Giving it back to her brother with a burning look in her eye to him, she turned to the room. “Cian was raised among us as a brother until he reached majority and left to start his own life, your highnesses. Never was he a bastard. To call him such is an insult to each and every Tully in this room.” Her eyes pass over the Lannisters and Tyrells, begging for a challenge from them, begging for an insult that she could unleash on them for. “We as a family will settle this matter privately, but rest assured both of my brothers always have the good of the Riverlands and our friends at heart. For you are our friends.” It was all she allowed herself to say, for she could not bear to start more trouble for her family when the last of it was sinking in the rivers and feeding the fish. Turning to her brothers though, her voice was low and left little room for argument. “Sit. We mustn't let them smell the blood in the water from this.” Wylla then sat and scooped up her nephew, holding him close so she didn't strangle one of them.

GARRETT ERENFORD: The commander was shocked by the news as he supposed everyone else was. All this time he’d expected to serve Brynden. Not that he would be any less honorable in his service to Cian but- Seven hells, what had possessed his friend to make this announcement now? He figured that after all their years of camaraderie there would be trust and honesty between them. But then again, Brynden had clearly blindsided his siblings so why should he expect special treatment? He would try and get a moment’s privacy with his friend after all of this was over.

He caught Araya’s eyes on him, even if she looked at him only briefly. He was subtle in the gesture but he raised his glass to her in the trajectory of raising the drink to his lips.

ELYSE TULLY: Chaos threatened to unfold and… in a way, had already done so. Her family was in discrete shambles, a brother had kept things from the rest, a brother was horrified, all three of her sisters were infuriated and offended. The kings did not understand, they saw a bastard where the Tullys looked at a brother. His lack of sharing a mother meant nothing to them just as Clare’s did. They were siblings, through and through. No one, not the Lion King or the Thorn Regent would change that. Elyse nods as her twin mutters the fact that these are private affairs and as the conversation continues, Clare’s irritation floods her tone and Wylla’s fire is mirrored in oceanic hues… the youngest stands. She abruptly does so, suddenly feeling as though the air is thick and the spoken words of others adds to it.

“Pardon me.” Her digits unthread from Harrion’s, releasing his hand suddenly and moving to exit the room. The soft voice of the princess is not as hushed as she excuses herself, no glance spared to any of her siblings so as to avoid Wylla’s particular one. The princess furrows her brows as she rushes through the halls and out towards the garden, breathless. “Gods…” she mutters, hands lifting towards her lifted hair. The pins holding it up are removed, held in her grasp tightly as long fiery locks cascade down her back.

GARLAND HIGHTOWER: With the announcement made, Garland looked between Cedric and the Tully family, before wincing from his leg. It was a legitimate pain, as it was always slightly aching, but he let it play as worse than it was on his face. “I need to retire, your grace. My leg.” He says loud enough for the rest of the room before making a bit of a production of getting up and walking out, leaning heavy on his cane until no one could see. The books were already locked away, but this would set him at the very least on a long night of new maths and figures that he didn't exactly want to set out on yet again.

CALLA LEFFORD: It didn't go unnoticed by Calla that some attendees were beginning to step out now that some of the complicated matters had been spoken. She took a sip from her wine and set the goblet on the table. Her attention went to Ser Hightower as he excused himself, making it known that his injured leg was troubling him in some way. “The wine is getting to my head, I need some air,” she said towards her cousin. Her eyes darted briefly towards the now empty sear of the Hightower lord and then back to Gwen. A spoken excuse for the rest, a truthful explanation for her cousin. Calla barely knew the man she was to marry and this served as a perfect opportunity to learn more about the knight.

#event: the funeral of grover tully

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gracekelsen · 3 years

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Her face was pale, bloodless.

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fairytalesofavalon · 3 years

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how to live with the consequences of your actions

Summary: Lamorak, the greatest thief in the kingdom of Virtue, decides to visit his last remaining relative, in order to reconnect. Only to end up betting his life on his skills as a thief after his uncle figures out who he is.

Warnings: Mentions of death, anxiety, swearing.

Short story: 4862 words

How to Live with the Consequences of Your Actions

Rain beat down around me, soaking my already drenched clothes. I pounded on the door, again, drawing my cloak tighter around me in an attempt to keep the cold at bay. Even this far south, I guess it was still cold during winter sometimes. After a moment, there was still nothing. I leaned over the porch railing to look inside the manor. Large windows sprawled up the side, light shining between the sand colored stone that made up the place. Someone was here, even if it wasn’t who I was looking for. I tried again, nearly rattling the entire door frame this time. There was still nothing, so I tried again and again and again.

I kept at it for a straight minute until the door finally swung open. Inside was a young woman, a pristine white apron over her navy dress. The maid took one look at me and already was clearly irritated. “We don’t take beggars, boy. If you wanna job at the stables, you’re going to have to come back in the morning.”

Right as she was about to shut the door in my face, I grabbed onto the edge of it nearly slamming my fingers inside. “Wait, wait, stop.” I pried it open just enough to see her face. “My name is Lamorak Gold… Well, Clarent Lamorak Gold. My uncle is Arturo Gold.” The man who runs this place, but I didn’t need to tell her that.

The maid just opened the door again, looking me over again before yelling back into the recesses of the house.“Gold, could you please come here for a moment.”

There was a bit of a pause before a man came strolling down the hallway. He reminded me of my father, well how my mother always described my father. Jet hair, bronze skin, but the bright blue overcoat with gold embroidery did throw me off. My uncle came to a stop right in front of the doorway, sneering at me before ignoring me completely and turning his attention to the maid.

“What does he want?” More than anything, he reminded me of all those idiots I’ve been robbing over the past few years. The way he tilted his head up, barely seemed to acknowledge either of us. I hated it. Not even ten seconds in his presence and I already hated him.

“This boy…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced back over to me. “He claims to be Clare… I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again.”

“Lamorak. Clarent Lamorak Gold. Your nephew.”

He just stood there, staring at me with a blank expression on his face. Finally, he mumbled two words to me. “Prove it.”

I dug inside the folds of my cloak, wrapping my fingers around the hilt of my dagger. But that’s all I did. For a brief moment, I could do nothing but stand there, staring down at my drenched cloak and mud covered boots. Then I forced myself to slide it out, handing the dagger to my uncle before I could stop myself.

Speaking purely as an expert in my field, the dagger was nearly priceless. One of a kind, adorned with a pearls, blade engraved with the scene of a sun setting over the ocean, awarded to a knight who demonstrated the virtue of sacrifice. The exact copy awarded to my mother. My uncle, a man who cursed my mother and refused to speak with her after she made the choice to come back for me, now held that. He turned the dagger over, examining every scratch and graze on the metal.

After a pause, my uncle nodded to me. “Well then, Clarent, come inside.” He didn’t even bother turning to his maid when he spoke. “Warm up some tea, I assume he’ll need some.”

She disappeared down the hallway. A more mundane place than I was used to, no expensive paintings, or shiny baubles, just pristine tan walls and white marble floors. I followed him down a few twists and turns until we arrived at a dining room. He gestured for me to sit which I did. Only then did he take the seat across from me. Sighing, he buried his face into his hands. After a pause he finally spoke.

“What do you want, Lamorak.”

“You’re, you’re the last thing I have left that I can call family. I...I just wanted to see you… I guess.”

“You guess?” His head shot up, eyes digging into me. “Lamorak, after the attack everyone thought you were dead. You just disappeared without a trace. Now you show up, nearly ten years later because you want to see your family.” He laughed to himself, rolling his eyes. “Oh, I see. If you really need money that badly, just know I’m not going to give it to you for free.”

“No, no it’s nothing like that. I...I just really wanted to see you.” There was no other way to explain it. I couldn’t even put it into words.

“Really, Clarent, you haven’t seen me since your mother deserted.”

His words hung in the air for a moment. That alone made me want to punch him in the face. But I kept calm, took a deep breath. “Don’t. Just don’t.” It was the very reason I hadn’t seen him. To him, my mother was nothing but a traitor. He’s the one who never spoke to us after she left the military.

“Don’t talk about it like you know what she's been through. She gave up everything just to take care of me.”

“Avalon didn’t even go to prison,” he said, voice completely calm. “Even if she didn’t have something like…” His voice trailed off as he gestured around the dining room. “Something like this. She shouldn’t have just been free to live her life after receiving the mark of a deserter.”

It was a nice dining room, much better than the one I had back when I had a home. But it was nothing compared to the things I’ve seen. It was foolish really, but I couldn’t help myself. I just started laughing.

“You think this is something.” I mocked his overly grand gesture. “I’ve stood inside the dining room in the Maiden’s Keep. There’s actually an entire mural spanning the ceiling. A giant coast, slowly fading into the ocean…” At that time, I was trying to prove a point. Even what he had was really nothing. We had less, much, much less. A small farm, barely enough to eat, other people spitting on us. She suffered everyday for that choice.

I did make a mistake. The mistake being that I mentioned the places my thieving had taken me.

Without another thought, I bolted for the door. Right as my hand touched the knob, my uncle’s hand was on my shoulder.

“As a matter of fact, I have been fortunate enough to see The Maiden’s Keep in person. I gifted Lady Marino the best mare I had from my farm. As thank you, her ladyship invited me to her palace to personally thank me. More of a glorified tour. The real question, however, is how you have seen that mural.”

I kept on cursing myself. Maybe I should have ran, but I still wanted to prove a point to him. That after everything Virtue put me though, put my mother and I through, that I still had more. Only three words came out of my mouth though. “I’m Virtue’s Shadow.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Then his nails were digging into my shoulder. “Should have expected that from her son, some rat stealing what hardworking people-”

“Hardworking people. I steal from idiots who inherit fortunes.”

“And that entitles you to what they have.”

I bit my lip staring down at the floor. What I do isn’t exactly the right thing to do, I couldn’t argue that. However they got their money, it still didn’t make it mine.

My uncle smiled at his perceived victory. “Well then, I should probably find a room that can hold you for the night.”

---

That room turned out to be some spare guest room on the fourth floor. He just shoved me inside and locked the door behind me. My uncle did have the foresight to have me searched, but it wasn't like he’d find every single lockpick hidden on me. Escaping would be easy enough. There was only one major problem. Arturo still had my dagger. That’s all that I cared about.

What was I even thinking, I nearly screamed at myself. I couldn’t have just kept my mouth shut. No, it was stupid to come back here in the first place. I just wanted to give him a chance. That’s what mother would have wanted me to do. Well, that chance has passed, now I just need to get out of here.

For the first few minutes, I just paced the room. He’d have people stationed right outside, meaning the door wasn’t an option. The window was out too. Jumping out from this height would shatter both of my legs at best and kill me at worst. I sighed, leaning up against some cabinet that I’m guessing was too heavy to move on short notice. There wasn’t much else left in here. Sheets stripped off beds, dresser emptied, the only things he bothered leaving was the bed, cabinet, and an end table in the corner.

Wait, I do have an idea.

I dragged the end table over to the window as quietly as I could. Ten seconds, I’d have about ten seconds. That’s if I get it on the first try. I picked up the table, smashing it against the window. A loud crash vibrated through the room, followed by shards of glass hitting the floor. That clattering was only topped by the sound of splitting wood that echoed up from four stories down. As soon as I caught my breath, I darted into the cabinet and shut the door.

Two guards stormed into the room shortly after. “Did he really?” One of them asked as he walked up to the broken window.

Out of the very edge of the slits, I could see the other guard creeping into the room. It wouldn’t take long for them to realize what happened. The first stuck his head out the window, craning his neck in a vain attempt to figure out where I was. All the while, the other slowly approached him, waiting for some kind of response. My heart was pounding, limbs screaming at me to run. But I made myself stand still, to breathe, to keep calm.

The first one looked to the other guard. I already knew what I needed to do before the guard even spoke.

“He’s still in-”

I burst out of the closet. Both were shocked, for a very brief moment at least. I darted for the door, getting halfway down the hallway before they even screamed after me. They would be expecting me to run, get out of here as soon as possible. But I still needed something. He would keep something like that close, his office or something.

This was a manor constructed during the reign of Queen Melina. Most of the time, offices or personal rooms were designed with hidden safes. Those were usually put on the second floor. I ran for the stairs, flying down the first few sets. Right when I got to the second to last flight of stairs, I hid inside another spare room.

They passed right by, just as I expected. I slipped out, ignoring the fear and ecstasy mingling in my head. I needed to get my dagger and leave. That’s it, I wasn’t risking anything by staying here longer than necessary.

With the path clear, it didn’t take me long to find my uncle’s study. It was fairly messy compared to the rest of the place. Filing cabinets covered the wall, small desk covered in papers tucked away in the corner, a window for an easy escape. I checked the cabinets first, sifting through land disputes with half of his neighbors, proof of pedigree for I swear every horse on his farm, and a couple other legal things I didn’t understand.

Slamming the last one shut, I dug through his desk for a moment. That is until I heard a knob turn. I was frustrated beyond explanation, but I needed to leave. Right as I opened the window, my uncle stepped inside. He took one look at me, then another at the open window, and panicked.

One step and this was all over. I still didn’t have my dagger. Not the best case scenario, but I knew where it was. I could always come back. “Well, uncle, I doubt you’ll see me again, even if I do come back.” I turned my back on him slowly. Right as I was about to step through, he spoke.

“I could give that dagger to the king, tell him where I got it from. Tell him who you really are.”

My stomach lurched at the mere thought. The only place I hadn’t broken into yet was the king’s palace and that’s because I valued my life. If he got a hold of it, shoved it in some vault, I might never see it again. More importantly, I didn’t want Mordred to find out that dagger belonged to me.

“Well, I guess I have your attention now.”

“What do you want?”

“Surrender yourself and-”

“That’s not happening.” Her dagger was the last thing she ever gave to me. It was the most important thing I owned. But I know she would slap me if I died over a piece of metal. “Now give it back and maybe I don’t come back and steal something else.” Looking back I want to slap myself for giving him a warning. If any of my targets actually knew for sure I was coming, I’d have been dead a long time ago.

He growled, then that rage turned to some twisted smile. “Well then, Virtue’s Shadow, it seems we’ve reached an interesting road. How about a bet.” He paused, purposefully drawing out the moment. “You win, I give you your dagger back, I win and you surrender quietly.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either. But it’s either this or I keep the dagger and you escape right now. What’s your answer?”

I cursed myself for even considering asking the question bouncing inside my head. “What’s the bet?”

“A little while ago, I won a mare in a bet with Redwoolfe’s stable master.” My uncle smirked as he said that. “I was keeping her as a surprise gift to Lady Marino. She’s a prize, strong, beautiful. Steal her by tonight and you win... And you remember what happens when you lose.”

“Fine.” I smiled, trying not to show how terrified I was. He couldn’t afford the same security as all the real nobles. That didn’t matter. I survived off of being smart. Patiently waiting for the right opportunity, watching places for days, planning for weeks. I couldn’t do anything in a night. Not only that, a horse was way different from a necklace or a ring.

“You do got a lot of horses.” He did run a breeding farm after all. “You mind telling me which one she is?”

“Dark brown, black mane and tail.” That stupid bastard smirked again. “She’ll be the one you can’t touch.”

“Whatever.” I turned back to the window. Regardless, he’d break our deal and just kill me if I stayed here any longer.

“Oh, and Lamorak. Don’t think about coming back for your dagger. You won’t find it.”

---

While my uncle was still getting the new details of his security sorted, I decided to pay a visit to his stables. It was a long building in the middle of an empty field behind his manor. Two rows of stables lined up next to each other, both leading to a fenced off pasture. It took me a moment to find her. A rather confusing moment since a few of his horses matched the mare’s description.

The one he was talking about was at the very end of the second row of stalls, a very intricate lock keeping her locked up. Nothing I’d ever seen before, just a twist of metal shaped sort of like a lock. If the thought of losing my dagger wasn’t screaming inside my head, I’d be intrigued. Instead, I knelt down in front of the lock and tried opening it.

After five attempts to figure out what it was and ten minutes, I gave up. By that point I couldn’t do anything but sigh, stand up, and look inside the horse’s stall for some other method. Nothing, well nothing except the giant bay mare currently walking towards the opening at the top of the door. She stuck her head out, swinging her massive head towards me.

“Hey, hey, girl,” I whispered. “Sorry, I don’t have anything…” My voice trailed off as she stared at me with those big soft brown eyes of hers. She reminded me a little of one of the horses back on mother’s farm. This entire place reminded me of our farm, smell of hay, manure, scratching of hooves. We didn’t have many animals, a few sheeps, horses. But it all just felt so nostalgic. Especially when she swung her head back around again.

“Really,” I said, rubbing her snout. “I don’t have anything.”

As if responding, she nudged my hand. I opened it, revealing an empty palm. That didn’t stop her from rubbing her wet nose across my palm.

“Alright, fine, I’ll find you something.”

At the very beginning of the stalls was a small supply room. It was locked, but… yeah. Soon enough I was sifting through sacks of oats, bales of hay, and a few pitchforks I nearly tripped over. It took me a moment to uncover a sack of carrots in the mess. Once I placed my hand on the knob, I heard the unmistakable sound of boots dragging against the stone floor.

“The two of you will stand right outside her stall.” It was my uncle, two other sets of footsteps following him. “Do not leave until two guards come to take your place.”

“When exactly will that be?” One of the guard’s asked.

“A half hour, fifteen minutes, it’s not going to be a set time, but it won’t be long. He’s smart, I’ll give him that. But he can’t fight.”

And if he constantly is rotating guards, I won’t be able to drug them either. Cursing in my head, I scrambled for some other option. Nothing, stealing that horse tonight was going to be impossible. As I heard my uncle passing by the door again, I wanted to scream.

This was it, I was going to lose my dagger. The king would probably hold some festival. Avalon Gold’s dagger, the disgraced knight who cast away her sins to defend her kingdom, returned from the clutches of the vile thief haunting all of Virtue. It pissed me off. Then Mordred flashed through my mind once again. Mordred, the very knight who convinced her to fight for Virtue again. The king might even award him with it.

That thought was enough to piss me off, but I was still at a dead end. It was still impossible to steal that horse. My options were growing thin. Tearing his manor apart, brick by brick to find my dagger seemed like my only choice. It was still stupid. Finding it would be impossible before morning.

I bit my lip pressing my back against the door. More options, I needed more options. Then I remembered something I somehow forgot. I’m a thief, I don’t need to play by his rules.

Smiling, I slipped out the door making my way back to his manor.

---

I didn’t exactly case the place before. Circling the manor a few times, I figured out a couple of things. One, he stationed most of his guards near the stables. Two, the one’s he did have were patrolling the second floor, exactly where I needed to be. Not like that ever stopped me before. Three, my uncle actually leaves the back door unlocked.

I turned the handle carefully, pusing it open just a crack. An empty kitchen, counters cleaned off for the night, staff long gone, only light coming from the windows. A nice place to figure out how to sneak up to the second floor. I stepped inside, standing straight up. There were two doors, one led to an empty dining room, the other upstairs.

Cursing myself every step of the way, I slowly opened the door and crept up the stairs. Most of the place was still dark, with the exception of the second floor. Before I was even at the top of the stairs, I was already regretting this plan. Then I heard the soft crunch of carpet under feet as the guards were heading right towards me. I nearly tripped running back down, slipping back into the kitchen just to be safe.

There were too many of them up there, halls were too narrow, too much of a risk hiding in rooms that may or may not be locked. Without realizing it, I was pacing around the room, nervously scratching my palm. I just needed to get upstairs.

“You just had to station guards here uncle, didn’t you.” The reason why didn’t exactly make much sense. I stopped dead in front of the door, peaking out to make sure they didn’t notice me. Maybe as a countermeasure if I decide to break in and steal something and try to hold that as ransom for my dagger. No, nothing in here was that valuable. Maybe some of his documents were worth something. Those he could replace though, it would be a pain, but he could. That’s not the reason and he wouldn’t position guards away from his prized horse for no reason.

No, I think I might know what’s going on. I went back outside, circling around to the front. Five horses were waiting out there, scraping their feet against the dirt impatiently. Well then, this should be easy. I went back inside, opening the door leading to the stairs just a crack.

Taking a deep breath, I screamed as loud as I could actually allow myself. “He got out with her and is heading back into town. Get after him now.”

I wasted no time shutting the door, pinning myself against the wall right next to the door. Very shortly after, there were footsteps pounding on the other side. Once five sets passed right by, I slipped out the room. The second floor was completely empty now, I headed for my uncle’s office, walking right out the front door the moment I had what I came for.

---

The morning after, I knocked on the front door once again. As I waited, I lit a candle, setting it on the edge of the railing for my third plan in case the other two didn’t work. After a moment, my uncle answered the door, seeming shocked as he stared behind me. A bay mare was loosely tied to the porch railing, watching the two of us.

“There, I did what you wanted.” I held out my hand. “Now give me back my dagger and neither of us will ever need to see the other ever again.”

He gritted his teeth, but my gut wretched as that slowly turned into a smile. “How foolish do you think I am, Clarent?” He brushed past me, heading down the stairs. “You see, Lamorak. I had my men paint a small red stripe right under her mane.” Brushing the hair aside, my uncle traced over where I assume the stripe would have been. “Just in case you tried to pull a trick like this.” He allowed her mane to fall back into place. “You really are smart… But I expect tricks like this from a thief.”

That wasn’t the mare I was supposed to steal, he was right about that. But then again, what did that matter. I stepped off the porch standing right beside him. My heart was pounding. Inside, out, without anyone seeing me, that’s how it worked. I never do things like this. Still, this was really my only option. I glanced over to him, giving him the best fake smile I could manage.

“Well, the horse isn’t exactly what’s valuable, at least alone.” I slipped the mare’s proof of pedigree out from my pocket, the one I had stolen last night. Stealing her was nothing, quick in and out of his own farm. No one was actually guarding her after all. “But this little piece of paper is what actually makes a horse have value. From my view, you’re out a horse and what the one you wanted me to steal is worth. To me, that’s stealing the horse.”

“The bet was-”

“The bet was I steal the mare. But no one cares about that. It’s not exactly going to be easy proving me wrong. I sell this horse and the papers to a fence and get out before he knows what happened. Well, most of them wouldn’t even care anyway. They’d be long gone before any buyer figured it out either.” It would be harder to move her maybe, but nothing a few lies couldn’t fix.

“What does it matter, Clarent. You still lost. I told you to steal that mare by this morning and you failed. However, I don’t exactly expect you to actually hold up your end…” His voice trailed off as he stared at me expectantly. I doubt he really thought I’d do anything, nothing but a vain hope that I would give myself to him. After the moment passed, my uncle just sighed. “A pity then, Lamorak. But I understand, even your mother couldn’t keep her word.”

He just watched after that. I know he was waiting for me to run, maybe attack him for insulting her again. It must have surprised him when I walked back onto the porch. When I stood right next to that candle. When I turned around to face him, holding the flimsy piece of paper over the fire. That panic that shot through him, the way his eyes widened, the way he reached out, I won’t lie, I savored every moment of it.

“Don’t.” All I had to do was move the paper closer to the fire and he froze. “You really shouldn’t have told me you won this in a bet. No real paper trail, no real proof. Just the word of one pissed off man. One who I am certain would snatch up an opportunity to screw you over.” I smiled, holding out my hand. “My dagger or I torch this thing.”

“You’re bluffing. If you can really sell that thing, why not do it?”

Because I would need to get rid of the giant animal that’s difficult to travel with without being noticed. I’d need to sell her in the nearest city for a quarter her value. Then all he’d need to do is buy her back, or even convince the guards she was stolen. And after that show I put on for him last night, I doubt that would be difficult.

“What would I need more money for, I have more than you ever will. While screwing you over would be nice, I’d rather have my dagger.” I flicked my wrist one time, paper nearly grazing the edge of the flame. “Just give it back.”

That air of confidence shattered, giving way to a boiling anger. Even then, he pulled my dagger out from his coat and slid it over to me. I picked it up, walking off the porch, pressing the piece of paper back into his hands. He seemed surprised, but it barely did anything for his anger.

“You just don’t want to be an oathbreaker or something. It doesn’t even come close to what you need to do to make up for your actions. Eventually, you’ll pay for everything.”

In the end, I was being foolish. After everything I just went through, I shouldn’t have stopped. Even just remembering it, I’m screaming at myself for turning around to face him, for looking my uncle in the eye as I spoke to him.

“I have been paying for it. Every night I slept in the gutters, every time I looked over my shoulder. Every day I live in fear, thinking that maybe this is the last one I get to see. I have nothing, no home…” I bit my lip, gaze darting to the dirt. “No family, nothing. I really have nothing but this. You have safety, security, a chance to actually have a family, a real life. I’ll always live thinking people will turn me in the moment they figure out who I am.”

I turned back around, walking back to the city. “And I live with that, uncle. I made my choices and I’ll live with the consequences if it kills me.”

#my writing #writers on tumblr #writing #fiction #fantasy #short story

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cryptidqueerr · 4 years

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you said “but you criticize cassie clare all the time particularly for her misuse of queer characters” and I said “well yeah but anna lightwood make gay brain go ‘hnnnng’ so I stole her and picked up a free gift on the way out” and you said “oh right sure”

drink the sun like wine

Anna Lightwood knew sad girls.

She knew how sadness flooded a person, became the rain and the ocean and the blizzard that they lost themselves in. She knew how many ways girls could wear their sadness, how some girls cloaked themselves in tears while others packed their sorrow into beautiful little vials to keep in their drawers, only to be taken out and lovingly handled on the blackest, loneliest midnights. She’d known the girls who turned their grief into armor, their skin turned to ice and iron, and the girls whose misery turned them to snow and porcelain, fragile and collecting dust on some man’s highest shelf. The girls who came to Anna all came with sadness, and they often left with more than they could bear.

Anna Lightwood loved sad girls. Perhaps it was starting to take a toll on her.

Anna lifted her cheroot to her mouth, then let it fall again without inhaling. She’d made the mistake of leaving her flask lying on the table in her flat, filled with gin and now utterly useless to her. She briefly considered asking Matthew what he had on his person - Matthew Fairchild always had something on his person - then thought better of it. Matthew treated liquor like knives, as though if he poured enough down his throat it might one day show the world the damage he felt should be obvious. She liked Matthew; if she were being honest with herself, Matthew was likely her closest friend. Better to suffer the hideous boredom of another party than encourage his self-destruction.

The stone of the wall bit into her shoulder-blades through her clothes. Around her, the room swirled with brightly colored silks punctuated by dark jackets. At every wall, girls clustered around each other, hydrangea bloom dresses concealing whispers and giggles from the boys who lurked just far enough away to be admired. Matthew and his parabatai, James, weren’t among them, though that wasn’t uncommon. James Herondale didn’t have enough room in his head around all his romance and chivalry to think about preening for girls like Catherine Townsend or Rosamund Wentworth.

Ariadne stood with them. Anna always knew where Ariadne stood.

Pain pricked at her chest, a delicate reminder of what loving Ariadne Bridgestock had done to her. Sad girls, Anna mused, sad girls and their sad tales. She lifted the cheroot again, this time inhaling enough that she could pretend the constriction in her chest came from the smoke. Her eyes slid past Ariadne to Wentworth and Townsend. Both girls could be absolute vipers; there’d been more than one expensive dress that found itself accidentally ruined by Anna’s clumsy shoes, uncharacteristically smeared with mud, after she overheard them tittering amongst themselves about Matthew. On this particular occasion, they seemed to have snared a new prey. Laced up in a lavender gown trembling with beading, a girl Anna did not recognize gave them a thin smile.

There were not many ladies in London that Anna did not know. She shifted slightly against the wall, craning her neck as though searching out someone else entirely though her eyes stayed fixed on the stranger. The girl’s hair fell in dark curls, nearly black except where it glowed deep red in candlelight. Her golden skin spoke of a heritage rooted far from the hills of Wales and the sooty streets of London that gave Anna and most of her cousins their pale complexion, and the defiant lift in her chin might as well have been a beacon of her unfamiliarity with society. Her cheekbones were high, an elegant contrast to her striking eyes. Her hands, not delicately folded or fluttering like nervous birds as many girls’ were wont to do, occasionally shifted restlessly toward her hip. She must have been accustomed to wearing a sword, Anna realized. Another oddity, even for a Shadowhunter.

The cluster of girls shifted. Anna caught sight of Lucie, pressed against the girl’s side and going furiously red in the face as Wentworth and Rosamund giggled. The new girl’s brows drew slightly in confusion. Likely the girls were having another go at Matthew, or at the new girl’s dress, or Lucie’s continued disinterest in sharing their obsession with boys. Girls like that rarely went more than a half hour without finding something new to tear apart.

“Still doing all right?” A voice at her shoulder nearly made her jump. An evening full of new experiences, then - Anna hadn’t been properly startled in years.

“As well as can be expected,” she said smoothly to her father, who didn’t seem to have noticed her flinch. She turned her back on the girls to face him. “The Herondales do know how to provide an entertaining evening.”

Gabriel laughed. “At least your mother has been out of the party-throwing mood since the baby was born.”

Anna nodded her agreement and subtly dropped her cheroot into a nearby potted plant. Like many of Anna’s habits, Gabriel didn’t look favorably on her smoking, though he allowed her mother to deliver the blatant admonishments. “What is this one for, again?”

Gabriel frowned slightly out at the crowd, over Anna’s shoulder. “I believe it was to introduce the Carstairs, though I’ll admit the only one I’ve seen is the boy.”

“Carstairs?” The name rustled up a piece of news she'd heard and discarded as irrelevant. Lucie had told her, she recalled, about the friend who was coming to London to train to be her parabatai. There were other things, she remembered now, rumors of a disgraced father and a mother desperate to ingratiate her children into London society before a trial could be held and a name could be smeared. She followed her father’s eyes out to the dancing pairs, over Matthew and Lucie laughing together and Charles pretending to gaze adoringly at Ariadne, then looked back at where Lucie had been, where the new girl stood alone.

“Ah! There’s the girl. Cordelia, I believe Will said her name was,” Gabriel said. He lifted his glass to his lips and raised his eyebrows to subtly indicate the new girl, who now was accepting an invitation to dance from James.

“Oh, yes,” Anna said, practiced disinterest smoothing over her voice. “She and Lucie are to be parabatai, aren’t they?”

“I believe so. I expect her mother will want to rush it through, given her father’s trial.” Her father had caught sight of someone in the withdrawing room behind them, his attention already leaving Anna alone once again. “You’ll excuse me, dear. Come say hello to Arthur, when you’ve got a moment.”

As he left, Anna returned her attention to the dance floor. Now the pairs whirled in a waltz, the music swaying and rising with the ruffles and taffeta. There were likely hours left to this, and she found herself reaching the end of her limits to polite society. As much as Shadowhunter society tolerated her behavior, there were no girls here who would dare dance with her, and most of the boys avoided her out of fear or insecurity, she didn’t care which. Matthew, it seemed, had become entirely engrossed in Lucie, and James held Cordelia in a way which suggested he had little interest in finding another partner. Even her brother, one of the other members of their little troupe, was nowhere to be found.

Anna scanned the room one last time. She had spoken to everyone who would expect her to, she thought, but there was always one old tutor or friend of her father’s that she missed and heard all hell about later. But faces were blurring together, and she could see no one of importance. The only person who remained clear, her garnet hair flickering like embers as she danced, was Cordelia Carstairs.

Anna allowed herself a moment of respite, letting her eyes focus on the girl. She watched her dance, watched her staring at James with the hopeless adoration of a girl reunited with the boy she loved in childhood. She would grow up, Anna knew, and realize that the world was never so simple, that people did not remain still and wait for you to arrive to love them. Anna had seen enough of the world to know how the hearts of men and women moved. Countless girls arrived at her doorstep for this precise reason. The thought normally brought pity at best and scorn at worst, for the girls who wept and wailed over the boys and girls whose fickle hearts betrayed them, but for Cordelia she only felt a pale wash of sorrow. It would be a shame, Anna thought, for such a beautiful girl to cry.

Cordelia’s head turned, and over James’ shoulder her eyes swept the room, landing at last on Anna. Warmth rushed to pool in Anna’s chest, in her bones. The blurred faces around her turned to nothing more than painted wallpaper, a backdrop for the dancing girl in the center of the room. Out of reflex more than choice, Anna lifted one eyebrow in a silent greeting. For a single heartbeat, just long enough to tie Anna’s mind in an endless knot, Cordelia smiled at her.

Then she was gone, vanished into the bustle of dresses and dancing. Anna turned toward the withdrawing room. She slipped one shaking hand into her pocket. Anna did not live well with certainty; her world existed in gray spaces and emotions with no names. But the feeling that settled in her chest could be nothing less than sure, no word less forceful than knowledge.

Cordelia Carstairs didn’t carry her sadness. Whatever grief tried to fill her, she had wrested it into a weapon. It flashed out from her hip in shining gold, cleaving through bone and treachery. Her tears would not drown her but sustain her, provide soothing relief to her wounds before she returned to battle.

Anna Lightwood loved sad girls. Perhaps it was time to love a girl who burned.

#chain of gold #fanfiction #fanfic #the mortal instruments #the last hours #anna lightwood #cordelia carstairs #anna/cordelia #anna lightwood/cordelia carstairs #look I haven't even finished this book but....gay #consider this...cassie clare treats her queer women with respect #ha jk #text

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cph-dreaming · 4 years

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Extract/dribbles # 21

[Notes: This is probably the most smutty I will ever be in my writing, as I still don’t feel comfortable writing about our boys in that way. But yeah... last night someone inspired me to give it a go...]

“Is that a threat?” Robbe asked not being able to keep the playfulness out of his voice.

“Do you want it to be?” Sander answered stepping closer to his boyfriend so Robbe had to look up at him. The height difference had always been a turn-on for Sander. In reality his boyfriend wasn’t that much shorter than him but to Sander it was more a feeling. Robbe could sometimes be so tiny! As he leaned in for a kiss Sander took a step back. Robbe let out a small sound, a slight rumble from the back of his throat.

Before he had ever met Robbe Sander’s favourite sound had always been the sound of the rain. Never the same, always new, always fascinating. Robbe’s nonverbal sounds had that same effect on him. His slow breathing at night was like a soft drizzle in spring. His humming to David Bowie while he did his homework was like the steady drops falling on the windows as Sander watched his boyfriend. Robbe’s giggle left Sander’s mind as refreshed as a sudden downpour on a hot summer day. What Sander wanted that evening was the thunderstorm of Robbe’s orgasm.

Robbe had been a little shit all day, teasing him, asking silly questions, pulling his beanie over his eyes, squeezing his butt playfully as they went for a walk in the Stadspark and running away when Sander tried to grab his hand, all the time with that annoying grin on his face as if saying, go ahead and chastise me if you can catch me.

Even mere seconds ago when they were getting ready to go to sleep Robbe had tickled Sander as he stood in front of the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth. And he had laughed like the small child he could be when Sander had coughed, tried to tell him to stop, and involuntarily had spit toothpaste all over the mirror.

Standing in front of him now Robbe was the most placid he had been all day. His body was tilted slightly forward, his eyes closed, a half smile on the lips that still waited for Sander’s kiss. Slowly Sander lifted his right hand wanting to cup Robbe’s face and let his thumb trail the dimples on his cheek. The sound of Robbe’s breathing stopped his hand, leaving it hanging in the air inches from the skin he was desperate to touch.

Not a sound could be heard from outside of the windows in Sander’s bedroom, as his eyes trailed from Robbe’s face down his chest, his flat stomach, down to his groin. Robbe’s heavy breathing wasn’t the only thing indicating the anticipation the younger boy felt. The growing bulge he couldn’t keep his eyes from made Sander wonder how this stunning creature in front of him in such a short time had grown from a timid boy, haunted by the inability to accept himself and his own desires, into a passionate, even lustful adolescent confident in his needs.

Sander turned his hand and with a single finger lifted Robbe’s chin.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low but with a determined note to it, breaking the heavy silence of expectation between them. Robbe opened his eyes. Sander knew he would never grow tired of watching the colours of the irises change according to the light and the mood of his boyfriend. From the honey gold of glee to the dark chocolate of lust, to Sander every nuance was the colour of love. And how he loved that little shit in front of him.

With a sudden thrust of his hand he pushed Robbe onto the bed. The fall left him breathless and surprised, but when he opened his mouth to voice his complaint, Sander spoke hoarsely before Robbe had even voiced a syllable.

“Shut up!” The time for playing was over.

Sander’s eyes was locked onto his boyfriend’s as he grabbed the fabric of the last piece of clothing Robbe was wearing, pulling the briefs off of him. Before he joined Robbe lying on the bed in hard contemplation of what was to come, Sander found his Pink Floyd playlist and put on ‘The Great Gig In The Sky’. The opening chords of the piano filled the room as he slowly crawled on top of his boyfriend, just slightly letting their bodies touch, only ghosting a kiss.

“I’m not frightened of dying. Any time will do, I don’t mind,” he whispered.

“Sander...” As soon as the sound of his name slipped past Robbe’s mouth his left hand seized his boyfriend’s throat, his right index finger resting on Robbe’s lips indicating silence. Was that a hint of fear in the brown eyes? Had he squeezed too tight? Sander was most of the time the one to take the reins but he was rarely forceful. With his eyes he tried to tell Robbe to trust him, not wanting to break the silence. Of course his boyfriend did.

The high-hat, the bass drum.

As soon as Clare Torry’s voice filled the room Sander flipped Robbe over onto his stomach. He took hold of his arms and perched them above his head, pinning them with his right hand to the pillow. Robbe was deceptively strong. There was no way Sander could keep him nailed if he didn’t want to be, but Robbe only moved slightly in arousal beneath him.

With the fingernail of his left thumb he drew a line on the skin of Robbe’s torso, from the armpit to the hips. It made the body beneath him shiver violently. As he trailed his lips from Robbe’s ear down his neck he used his knee to spread his boyfriend’s legs, pressing the kneecap against the perineum. The motion made Robbe push his pelvis hard against the mattress with a loud moan. Sander moved his hands beneath Robbe’s chest, grabbing his shoulders, as he lay all his weight on the younger boy.

“I never said I was frightened of dying.” The whisper nearly sent Sander spiralling, as his mind heard Puddie’s words in Robbe’s voice. Only the boy beneath him kept him grounded as he moved his lips on the skin in junction with Clare’s vocals.

The playlist continued with ‘Comfortably Numb’. Sander felt anything but. The song might not be Sander’s preferred choice but he couldn’t be bothered with changing the music. When the first ‘Hello’ sounded through the speakers he turned Robbe around, needing to see his face, to kiss those lips. The pliantness of his boyfriend nearly turned Sander insane with want. It wasn’t that he needed to be in control. In fact he cherished every time Robbe tried to take the lead. But the epitome of trust shown to him in this very moment made his body burst in emotion. No matter how much more experience he had, how much he had done in the life that came before Robbe, this was a first. With Robbe everything they did, however mundane and trivial it could be, always felt like a first time.

When he penetrated Robbe to the song’s ‘Ok, just a little pinprick’ he couldn’t stop laughing. Robbe opened his eyes wide and looked at him with a questioning gaze. How could anything ever compare to this? Sander’s heart was filled with the purest joy as his lips crushed the mouth beneath him. Their bodies moved in unison as had they been born for that purpose alone. When David Gilmour’s guitar solo guided them to the end of the song the boys followed suit. Every stroke of the crash and ride cymbals was copied by a thrust of their hips as the end came near.

The last conscious thought Sander had before he came and fainted on top of Robbe was

“If this is dying, I’m not frightened anymore.”

[End notes: Although I don’t write the word ‘condom’ I expect the boys to practice safe sex. Take care out there!]

#wtfock #wtfock fanfic #sander driesen #robbe x sander #be kind always #comments are more than welcome

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typicalmidnightsoul · 4 years

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼- Chapter 6

ℍ𝕒𝕝𝕗 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕗 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕜

I was made heavy half blade and half silk, difficult to forget but not easy for the mind to follow- Rupi Kaur

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4 5 <- here

The dinner went fine. Elain was rigid next to Feyre watching as the others tried to mix with the people of Rask. Cassian had…words with Leona. Whether it was regarding Nesta or their shared experiences of being generals then royalty, Feyre did not know. The Rask royal family was not that sociable, but how could they be when Nesta’s relationship with the court of dreams was jagged. Luna had taken a particular liking to Azriel who in turn blushed at her… advances, but for most of the time Audrey and Luna remained quiet their eyes on the door. Nesta had not shown up and just as they were about to leave without doing any alliance negations Nesta sent a note saying to start without her and that she would be there as soon as she could.

Amren sipped from the wine glass saying, “You would think being a Princess would make her punctual.”

Luna’s head snapped toward her, she lowered her eyebrows glancing at Jonah who in turn bared his teeth and said to Amren, “She is not just any odd person, she is the crown princess, and she has territories and people more important than the likes of you and your court of dreams to attend to.”

Amren gave a snake-like smile, “Tell me, did Nesta force you to be here?”

He looked her up and down, “Every single person you see here is here out of their own choice those who didn’t want to come didn’t.” He mock looked around, “Do you see Clare or Eris here?”

Amren was about to answer back-

“Enough.” Audrey spoke up, her eyes venomous, “We should discuss the matter holding up the treaty negotiations before Nesta gets here.”

“Wait before Nesta-”

Audrey nodded at Luna who cut Feyre off saying, “For this alliance to proceed all the territories of Rask will need to sign, if even one of them don’t the alliance will not go forward. My territory, Jonah’s and Leona’s refuse to sign until you agree to one condition.” She lifted her chin.

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a look,

“We would like to hear it first.” Feyre was sure that Rhys would give them whatever they wanted if only to assure the safety of the humans.

They all braced themselves eyes on Luna but it was Jonah who said,

“We would like you to accept this cheque of 20,000 gold marks.”

They all froze and stared with wide eyes.

“Accept?” Feyre asked in shock.

“Why would you want us to accept it?” Rhys asked his tone suspicious.

Leona looked at him eyes lit with a raging fire, “because we want to go into this relationship without any debts with you. We wouldn’t want to give you another opportunity to demean us or our other family members.”

“What debt?” Cassian ground out.

“The debt that my older sister has to you. The debt that you taunt Nesta with whenever an opportunity presents itself.” Jonah replied.

Cassian and Jonah stared each other down.

Until Jonah dragged his head to Rhys, “Will you accept?”

Rhys had that far-away look in his eyes that suggested he was conversing with his inner circle. A long time after he replied, “Nesta Archeron‘s expenses weren’t that much when she was in our care therefore we will accept half of what you are offering.”

Audrey gave them all a soft smile, “We will look forward to our alliance with you.”

“Is that it then?” Cassian asked leaning back into his chair, “Are we allies now?”

“There will obviously be a formal ceremony, but yes since all territories will have signed by tonight… we are, I guess, allies.”

Heels clicked into the restaurant, “That quick and without me?”

Nesta’s family beamed at her, a grin splitting on Jonah’s face. One that had to been there even when his mate had held his hand.

Caroline gesture for a waiter to get another chair but Nesta shook her head.

“I thought I would be needed for alliance negotiations but since I am not then it would be best for me to leave with Luna and Auj.”

Luna and Audrey raised a brow.

“We seem to have to solve a blood feud or we’ll have another Romeo and Juliet on our hands. Clare’s already there.” She went to walk out, Luna and Audrey getting up when Feyre stopped them.

“I would like to speak with Nesta.”

Luna sized up the space between them.

Audrey asked, “alone?”

Feyre froze, what did they think she would do to her sister? Kidnap her?

“Not alone but not publicly either.”

Audrey nodded and jerked her chin at Luna, “You go.” Feyre nodded at Elain to come as well.

Confusion ruffled Nesta’s beautiful face, but nonetheless she led them out to the garden below.

Luna gestured for Elain to sit with her at a nearby table and ordered tea and coffee.

Nesta leaned against the post of the gazebo that gave shelter to the diners outside, which there were none of as all the customers chose to dine on the roof for the view.

“So, what’s this about?”

Feyre knew Nesta would hate it if she beat around the bush. So she just said, “I am obviously mad at you for leaving. And I know that I must have instigated it but… let bygones be bygones. Let’s start over.”

Feyre stepped closer to her. Nesta stepped back.

“No I don’t think we should.”

Feyre flinched, “Why?”

She turned back, leaning back onto the fencing of the gazebo looking at the small, quiet little town before them.

“Do you know what you’re asking me to do? You’re asking me for the sake of your own guilt to forget the bitter behaviour I have experienced from you and your family. To forget Clare’s grieving face” Feyre opened her mouth but Nesta turned and held up a finger. “I know you think you avenged her but stabbing the attor will not bring back the Beddor family or ease Clare’s torment no matter how much conciliation it gives you.”

“Nesta I admit I may have unknowingly hurt you-”

“Well then Feyre you must be really nave and foolish because the amount of people you have unknowingly hurt? Lucien for starters has been ‘unknowingly’”-she made quotation marks with her fingers-“mocked for getting close to new people. Mocked for giving themselves the name of ‘the band of exiles’, I mean come on hypocrisy at its finest, Feyre how much better is The Court of dreams?”

“Lucien, Nesta? You hate him!” Feyre exclaimed.

“Stop trying to change the subject.” She flicked a lock over her shoulder, “Do you not think you and your friends have a god complex? Even when it came to me. Your own sister. You thought that because Love healed you it would heal me. You made my decision for me. What if I died from it? Would come to my grave and ask me to start over.”

Nesta’s face was now scrunched up tears trying to force tares back her back to Feyre,

“You acted like it was a choice. Like my depression, PTSD, anorexia was all a choice like I could just,”-She snapped her fingers-“turn it off.”

Feyre started to shake her head profusely.

“Well I couldn’t. And worst of all I blamed myself. But not anymore.” She wiped her tears away and faced her, “From now on you are accountable for your own decisions. I am no longer holding myself responsible for your mistakes. I am done second guessing myself. I have learnt to live with my mistakes, so maybe instead of trying to ‘start over’ you should as well.”

Nesta walked out of the wards of the restaurant and winnowed away. Leaving a cold Feyre with tears slipping down her face. Luna came to her.

“Feyre the document has not been signed yet. If, after this you do not want to go ahead with the alliance then you have to tell me now.”

Feyre turned to her.

“That’s why Audrey sent you. Because she knew the Nesta would blow and you had to make sure I still agreed to the alliance.”

Luna offered no explanation.

“Well I still consent to this alliance. So you can save your breath.”

Luna nodded, “If you go back in please tell Audrey, Nesta and I have left.” Feyre nodded and went up to the roof with Elain.

-----

Two weeks after the dinner, Feyre was readying her gallery for classes when a flying letter burst in through the window. Before she could grab it the letter folded itself and spoke,

“To the high lady of Night,” a posh voice said, then Caroline’s voice started playing,

“Hello Feyre, I wondered if you would like to join me for a drink before I open my restaurant now. There is something I would like to discuss. If you do just touch the letter after my message if you don’t just tell the letter to leave.

Yours truly Caroline.”

Feyre looked taken aback.

“Ah, the talking transportation letters. They are apparently a habit of Raskians.” Ressina came out of the back room and put a hand on Feyre’s shoulder chuckling at her shocked face, “You should go. We have another hour till we open.”

Feyre considered glancing at the clock. Then nodded.

She touched the letter. In what seemed like a mist travelling through the folds of the world, a sound much like a deafening howling wind Feyre was transported and now standing on the street in front of the restaurant.

She looked around, the letter was nowhere to be seen. People were busy in the street market behind her. She gathered herself and walked up to the rooftop part.

Caroline was there admiring the view. She stood up to greet her.

“Hello.”

Feyre smiled and said, “I am really sorry Caroline but this must be quick I have to open my gallery for classes soon.”

She gestured for her to sit, “Of course, I also have to open, and this will only take a few minutes.” She looked at Feyre’s face, “You have something on your mind.”

She bit her lip, “It was just… Jonah, your mate, he’s my brother and Clare’s alive… this is all so confusing. It’s just that when I find out how they… how do you think I will feel?”

Feyre winced, “Ugh, I sound so pathetic.”

Caroline smiled, “No, it’s fine. I am sorry though Feyre. I don’t really know how you will feel. I can tell you though that Clare’s story is much less complicated than Jonah’s, funnily enough. He is very protective of Nesta. So I do apologize for his behaviour.”

Feyre shook her head, “He loves her deeply. And I hurt her, his behaviour is normal. Anyway what would you like to discuss.”

Feyre sipped from the glass of coffee.

Caroline glanced at the clock, “Um, there is little time so,” She pulled a gold invite towards her and handed it to Feyre, “It is mine and Jonah’s anniversary next week. So I would like to invite you to the party we’re holding.”

Feyre accepted it, “Do you think Nesta will want me there?”

She waved a hand, “Nesta will not mind, just don’t mention any of the words you exchanged and Nesta won’t get triggered.”

“You all seem really close.”

“Oh we are. All of us. Leona, Clare, Luna and Audrey stick with her, Nesta’s mine and my brother’s partner in crime. Ollie and Ash love her like crazy, they have shopping sprees together. Honestly we are a really big group. You will meet the whole family next week if you come. Are you… planning to?”

Feyre nodded, “Yes. I intend on making the relationship with my sister stronger.”

Caroline smiled and then stood up, “Sorry Feyre I have to get to the kitchen. Feel free to stay here and finish your coffee.” She downed her own. Then stopped and turned back.

“Just a heads up, Nesta and Leo…Leona, Luna and Audrey will be coming in the next few days.”

“Why?” Feyre asked tearing her eyes away from the invitation.

“It’s tradition for Rask to give a gift to you after the alliance has been finalized.

“Do we give-”

“No, no. Just a heads-up, anyway bye see you next week.”

“You too.” She sipped from her cup admiring the place Nesta now called home. She glanced at the clock. She had to go back in the next five minutes if she wanted to be on time. She didn’t know if she should be dreading or celebrating the invitation she was now holding.

--------

This was such a long one. Sorry for the lateness, life got in the way. Up next: The party, an introduction the first love in Nesta's life and a distraught Nesta seeking Azriel's help.

Tags:@mis-lil-red @wannawriteyouabook @my-fan-side

#nesta archeron #cassian #ersi #original character #nessian fanfic #acotar #rhys #rhysand #helion #lucien #elain #mor #morrigan #amren #varian #acomaf #acowar #acofas #day court #rask #prythian

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bookfast-at-tiffanys · 4 years

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‘Ice, ice baby’

Hey guys so this is my Malec New Year’s Eve onshot!! I know I’m late and I’m sorry about that but your girl was dragged to a horrible family gathering where we played charades and did other dumb things like that so I couldn’t finish it quick enough. But here we are now all finished so I hope you enjoy it! But word of caution, get ready to take a trip to the feels because this oneshot is full of emotions and I’m sorry, it’s kinda long, I get carried away :)))) Btw thanks to @just-another-lightwood-bane , @kitherondaleandminacarstairs , @igonecrazy , @tmi-tid-tda-tlh-twp , @lavanyalol , and @becca66667 for the support and kind words!

A oneshot in which Malec goes to an ice rink to celebrate New Year’s Eve.

‘Bang! Pop! Crack!’

Sparks of gold, ruby, and emerald exploded around Magnus and Alec. They were enveloped in illuminescent colours that crackled all around them, almost as if they were wrapped in what looked like a plan of the galaxy, stars shining over there, small rocks bursting over here. It was just the two of them, together in this moment, a moment neither of them could ever forget. They spun on the ice in a small, but unbreakable circle, folded into one another, the sound of their ice skates on the ground falling away, blanketed under the whistle and bang of the fireworks, and the warmth and tenderness of the joint gaze of both men.

New Year’s Eve was a special time for both Magnus and Alec, and they made sure to spend every moment of the day together. It was a day for the paid to go back over the years memories and then begin the new year together, wishing that they would stay together for many more years to come. Magnus now thoroughly enjoyed New Year’s Eve, leaving the old time tradition of throwing a fantastical extravaganza, and replacing it with Alec. Just Alec. All he had ever needed in his life was his blue-eyed archer boy, and now that he had him, Magnus would be a fool to ignore him for a few shots of tequila. But Magnus Bane, no matter what Ragnor Fell or Raphael Santiago said, was no fool. He made it his task to find something for himself and Alec to do on New Year’s Eve so that he could spend every waking moment of it with him.

Magnus, however, was not the only one with a new found appreciation for New Year’s Eve. For years he had spent it with his family and he had enjoyed it, however there was always an empty space in his heart, a place he usually kept highly guarded. That had all changed on one beautiful evening when Alec had met the stunning Magnus Bane and had immediately, but subconsciously, decided that Magnus was his soulmate. Fortunately, it seemed that Magnus agreed and so the two men had begun a glorious relationship (Isabelle always refererred to it as ‘Endgame’ although Alec was completely puzzled as to what that meant). A relationship full of love and passion and an immense need of each other. Alec began to spend New Year’s Eve with Magnus and he soon realised that the empty space in his heart that he was so conscious of, had been filled, now a solid temple devoted to Magnus Bane, and Magnus Bane only.

This year, Magnus was lost for ideas on what to do for New Year’s Eve. He was beginning to get slightly frustrated because he was the HIGH WARLOCK OF BROOKLYN! HOW COULD HE NOT DECIDED WHAT TO DO ON NEW YEAR’S EVE?! This situation was extremely flummaxing and it was very much unlike Magnus to be so undecisive, however he chose to stay calm and hope that he could finally find something for himself and his love to do together. Magnus prided himself on planning for occasions at least two weeks in advance and so instead of moping around in defeat, Magnus went shopping to lift his spirits. He did need a new white Teddy Bear coat, he supposed.

On a bright, sun-filled morning, Magnus took Alec shopping with him, for no other reason than the fact that he simply wanted Alec around him. Alec begrudgingly agreed to go with Magnus but was quite irritable since it was early, and Magnus had denied him of morning hugs since ‘there wasn’t enough time’. Magnus and Alec walked, hand in hand around the shopping centre, looking in any shop Magnus liked. At one point in their trip, Alec had to drag Magnus out of Clare’s whilst Magnus shouted, ‘But Alexander! The glitter!’. The pair finally found themselves in Urban Outfitters and Alec watched with a completely smitten look as his husband sorted through racks of coats, occasionally muttering about how something wasn’t his style. Alec personally thought that everything looked fantastic on Magnus what with his tanned skin, toned muscles, and just Magnus’ natural beauty.

Alec was broken out of his love-filled daydream when he noticed Magnus staring at him with wide eyes. Alec came back to reality and heard the faint background music playing.

‘Ice, ice baby’ played, a soft hum around them. Alec frowned and was about to ask what was wrong when Magnus began to jump up and down and clap his hands. Alec would think that Magnus had lost his mind but Magnus’ antics were a usual occurancr in Alec’s life now, so he wasn’t too worried. He waited until his husband’s frantic flapping came to a standstill and then asked what happened. Magnus shrieked, ‘I HAVE THE PERFECT IDEA FOR NEW YEAR’S EVE! WE CAN GO ICE-SKATING!’

As Alec tried to calm Magnus down, he couldn’t help but agree that ice-skating sounded like a good idea. They could have some fun together and if he fell flat on his face in the process, only Magnus would see, so some of his dignity would remain intact. Alec told Magnus that he would love to go ice-skating with him so they both made plans to go ice-skating on New Year’s Eve, the Teddy Bear coat forgotten.

At 3pm on New Year’s Eve, Magnus coaxed Alec swag from the warmth of their bed and arm in arm, they walked to the ice-skating rink close to their apartment. When they got there, Alec noticed that the ice rink was closed, and he was about to voice his confusion to Magnus, who put his hand on the door and waited for it to swing open. Magnus was well aware that the ice rink didn’t open for another hour, however going early meant that nobody else would be there and they wouldn’t be disturbed. Magnus and Alec walked in and got the correct sized ice skates but Alec had a small sense of lingering guilt. ‘This is illegal though Magnus, it’s breaking and entering,’ Alex whispered, because even though he knew nobody else was there, he was still slightly afraid that they would be caught.

‘Nobody will know darling and technically we haven’t broken anything,’ Magnus said with a grin on his face. Alec couldn’t argue with that and so forgot about the law and began to put on his ice skates, all the while letting his thoughts stray to the familiar figure in front of him as they do often did. Magnus looked gorgeous, just as he usually did, and his makeup was perfectly done, accentuating his full lips and the green colour of his almond-shaped cats eyes. Magnus turned to look at Alec and noticed his adorable husband staring.....again. Magnus held Alec’s hand, which broke him out of his reverie, and gently lead him to the ice rink. As nervous as Alec was, he knew that he had Magnus and Magnus would never let him get hurt, so his nerves calmed.

As the two men got on the ice, Magnus pulled Alec close and told him that the first thing that needed mastering was gliding. He left Alec on the side of the rink, hands clenched on the support bar in a death grip, and drifted further out, showing Alec what to do. Magnus then beckoned first Alec to try, expecting extremely negative results, considering how terribly Alec had done during roller-skating. Boy, was this going to take some time. Magnus’ eyes widened in shock as he was proven wrong. Alec hesititantly, but skilfully, glided towards Magnus with the grace of a ballerina performing Swan Lake, Alec’s face first stricken but then relaxing into an easy smile of child-like excitement. ‘I did it Magnus!’ he said, his eyes lighting up.

‘Yes.....you did,’ Magnus returned dryly. A sense of panic rose up in him. His plan was ruined! Alec was a naturally great ice-skater and so Magnus could not teach him how to do it, an experience Magnus hoped Alec would treasure. If he was going to impress his Alexander he was going to have to do something truly fantastic, something marvellous. Alec was looking up at Magnus like a puppy that had just fetched a tennis ball so his owner could throw it again and Magnus knew he had to make this special for Alec.

In between one blink and another, Alec saw sparks forming, flying high into the air, gaining speed, and erupting in shades of scarlett, luxurious gold, emerald green, and violet. It was as if a crown full of jewels had exploded, shards of the jewels flying this way and that. Alec watched in awe as the quiet, calm ice rink was filled with booming noises and illuminescent colours. Magnus beamed with pride as Alec’s lips formed an ‘o’, a gasp escaping from his mouth. Now this was impressive. Magnus began to glide along the ice, his movements inaudible and Alec began to follow him. The two men quickened in speed, their movements now rapid but still delicate, and with them the fireworks being sent from Magnus’ hands increased in size and magnificence.

Almost as if it was a crescendo, the fireworks banged the loudest and burned the brightest as Magnus and Alec returned to the middle of the ice rink. The affection and passion was thick in the air as the two men came to face each other. Their gaze caught and they were cocooned in fluorescent lights which popped and crackled all around them, closer now, so close that the gold of the fireworks spun a web of reflection in Alec’s eyes and then were swallowed by the golden flecks of Magnus’ own eyes. Magnus and Alec spun on the ice in their cocoon, not speaking but communicating with their eyes. The raw yearning and desire for each other, the love and adoration, an unrestrained passion for one another. Magnus was hardly touching Alec and Alec was hardly touching Magnus but the small bit of contact was enough to light a village on fire. The touch burnt the two men but it seemed that neither of them minded, in fact they enjoyed it, never once letting go.

The fireworks, which were a kaleidoscope of colours not long before, had now transformed into an electric blue colour booming and crackling around Magnus and Alec and then fading into the blue colour of both Alec’s eyes and Magnus’ magic. Alec smiles, a wide smile which ripples throughout his entire face, and his heart burst with his love for Magnus. He will love Magnus until the day he breathes his last. Magnus’ face also formed a wide smile, reciprocating Alec’s, and a warmth ran through his body and he looked at his Alexander with all the love and doting he felt, displayed on his face. He loved his blue-eyed archer boy and he would love him until the end of time. The men continued to spin in a web of colours, knowing that this New Year’s Eve was perfect.

#Malec Fanfiction #Ice Skating #Fanfiction #My writing #magnus bane #magnus lightwood bane #alec lightwood #alec lightwood bane #shadowhunters

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missbrightsky · 4 years

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On My Honor

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: Feyre

“Feyre! Feeeeyyyyyy-rrreeeeee,” the whine carried out over the field, grating against my ears. I loosed a tight breath, turning towards the source.

“Yes, Elain?” my sister had left her hair down today, lovely and golden in the late summer sun. She had always been the prettiest of us, soft and gentle, a smile easy on her lips. The opposite of Nesta who was somewhere in the trees near the house.

“Do you think you can find some berries for tonight’s dinner?” she pleaded, her eyes going wide and doe-like. It hadn’t occurred to her that she could find them herself. I’d shown her the patches a dozen times, but she complained of them staining her soft fingertips.

“Sure, I’ll see what I can find.” It was late summer so hopefully we hadn’t picked them clean by now. A smile burst across her face, putting the sun to shame. She skipped back towards the house, presumably to find Nesta and deliver the news. I’m sure she couldn't care less what I put on the table, as long as she didn’t have to do anything.

I slipped between the trees on the other side of the field, the cool shade playing over my skin. Greens and golds and pinks filtered through the canopy, snatches of color snagged my attention. Flowers colored with the blush of a fair maiden. Crimson birds crafted from a forgotten god’s blood. A spot of sapphire sky that was nestled in emerald green.

I pressed further in, if only to escape for a few minutes. Summer was always a plentiful season for us but there was always something that needed to be done. Firewood chopped in the morning and evening. Chicken eggs collected and the pigs fed. And now, berries to be picked for dinner. At least Elain tended to her garden, providing vegetables for our table. I was hopeless when it came to growing things, more used to taking lives than raising them.

A small stream gurgled nearby, cutting through our small slice of land. It wasn’t even our land really. Our house sat just off the main road, obscured by the odd bush or so. The land behind was shared with our neighbors. Alis’s family was to the left of our house and Clare was to our right. Elain and Nesta had claimed Clare as their friend early on. I was too young when they started playing with her, and once I was old enough, they deemed it too late to join their trio. Alis was the closest thing I could call a friend. We really only saw each other when neither of us were busy. She had her nephews to look after and I had my family to worry about.

I wandered loosely through the patch of trees and bushes, idly looking a berry bush. Even if the land wasn’t ours, at least we had access to it. We were far from the wealthiest family in town, and only barely escaped the clutches of poverty except in the worst of winters.

There, I spotted a few clusters hiding deep in a bush, maybe I can use them to bribe Elain to do a chore or two. The deep red shone in the shaded light, thinking themselves clever for burying themselves deep in the bush. Only the most eagle-eyed forager could reap the sweet reward.

It wasn’t that I resented my sisters for their lack of help in keeping us alive, they weren’t the ones that had promised their mother on her death bed to keep them alive. It was almost eight years since she’d passed. That quiet fire extinguished forever.

Elain had cried for weeks.

Nesta for only a day.

I had yet to shed a tear over her.

I kneeled in the warm, soft dirt, inhaling the rich scent of soil and leaves. Gathering up a corner of my shirt, I started to pluck the berries, popping one or two in my mouth, not caring if their juices stained my mouth or cloth. There were few simple pleasures in my life, I had to take them when I could. Soon, I had stripped the bush of its treasure and turned to make my way back.

As soon as I stepped out of the trees, the full force of the sun hit me again, pressing into whatever exposed skin there was. By the time I reached the house, sweat was drying on me.

Elain had already released a squeal of delight when she saw me carry the berries past her in the small garden. My father was at the kitchen table, carving a bit of wood. Nesta was reading one of our few books by the front window, probably more preoccupied with judging the townsfolk that walked by.

She stiffened suddenly, drawing my attention to her and then the world beyond.

There, heading into our village, was a small contingent of soldiers. This wasn’t unusual due to the war that had been raging distantly for years but so rarely did they bear the royal standard. The group of five rode straight and proud on their horses, unruffled from their ride and the heat. Whenever soldiers came to town, bad news soon followed.

Nesta swiftly stood from her seat, sweeping past me with hardly a glance to go and gather Elain from the back. Little happened in our village so they would go see what commotion could be caused. I dumped the berries into an empty wooden bowl on the counter and turned to see what I could cook for dinner tonight.

Nesta returned with Elain in tow, sneering at the red stains on my shirt. I followed them out of the house, if only to make sure that they returned for dinner on time. Other neighbors had emerged in their wake, curiosity spread like wildfire when there was gossip to be had.

Nesta sought out Clare, tugging Elain with her leaving me to trail behind. The three struck up a conversation about the soldiers and what news they might bring.

Alis emerged from her house, her two nephews tugging her along. I paused, waiting for her while my sisters went ahead. I gave Alis a closed mouth smile at how the boys tugged on her hands, urging her to go faster so they could keep the soldiers in their sight. She returned my smile, but it turned tight when she looked down at her boys. They were at the age when they only thought about becoming soldiers, not the war that was raging at the front.

We walked the short distance into town, not exchanging words but listening to the endless stream of chatter from the boys. Word had spread like wildfire in the village, when we turned the corner, it seemed like some or all from every house had come. Had come even with no guarantee that the soldiers were here for any reason other than to resupply.

Curiosity crackled in the air, words buzzing with concern and excitement. The soldiers, dressed in black tunics with silver stitching depicting a crescent moon crossed with a sword, came to a halt in front of the pub, the closest thing we had to a town hall. From their mounts, they surveyed the crowd, their faces unremarkable and vaguely bored. No sneering or grimaces at the state of our small village with its common peasants and odd or end merchant.

“Hybern continues to press forward,” the leader's voice rang out, deep and grave, “General Knight has called for reinforcements to the front.” The murmurs that were quieted had broken out again, neighbors and family turning to each other with fear in their eyes.

The man waited for them to absorb the news before continuing. “We will be coming to everyone’s houses in the next few days with conscription notices and taking names. He has asked for at least one man from every family to step forward and answer the call. Each family will be fairly paid for their service. It is an honor to serve Prythian.”

I hardly heard the last words, all sounds going dull and distant. One man from every family, was echoing in my mind. Our father had served the country years ago. But that was a different ruler, a different age. He was being called to war again and the last one already wrecked his knee. He wouldn’t survive training, let alone the bloody battles that would follow. Even Elain begging him not to go wouldn’t stop him. He had too much pride for himself and where he stood in the world.

The man stopped speaking and the crowd was starting to disperse. I forced myself to unfreeze, looking over to where my sisters were still talking with Clare. They looked unbothered by the announcement, clearly not caring or realizing that our father would be going to war for the second time.

I turned to start the walk home, lost in thought. The only thing I knew for sure was that my father cannot go off to war, but we needed money that would come with conscription.

And there at the edges of my mind, a crazy idea formed. One that I didn’t want to look at too closely. Not yet, but soon.

Next Chapter

#acotar #mulan #feyre #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #sarah j maas

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tlhnetwork · 5 years

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the last hours by cassandra clare : a complete compilation of snippets released as of 19 feb 19

reminder that snippets are tentative and can be misleading, it’s all up to interpretation. i have ordered the snippets, some are all from chain of gold as far as i guessed / can tell from cassie’s tags and have some sort of sequence, others are most likely from chain of gold too. some are from cassie’s pinterest so they might just be ideas. i will update this post at least once a month, also depending on whether new snippets have been released.

WILL, JEM, TESSA & JAMES ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

Will had been sitting on the floor, the rug bunched up under his feet, with his back against Tessa’s legs. He looked up when Jem came in, and Jem, in his Silent Brother robes, went over to Will and sat down beside him. He drew Will’s head against his shoulder, and Will held the front of Jem’s robes in his fists and he cried. It was the first time it had ever occurred to James that his father might cry about anything.

SHADOWHUNTERS FOUR

They were inseperable.

MATTHEW

"What's that little smile of yours?" Matthew inquired. "You look as if you're about to laugh."

UNKNOWN BOY & MATTHEW

He yanked him downward, and in a moment they were rolling on the carpet like puppies, Matthew laughing uncontrollably...

SEMI-UNIDENTIFIED SNIPPET ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

He took a deep breath, and crossed the floor of blades and constellations to the other boy’s side. He stood at the foot of the stairs, looking down.

“But of course,” he said, very softly, “your sentiments are reciprocated.”

He stooped over him, tilting his chin up. Their lips met. The other boy made a soft sound, almost like surrender, stretching under his body. He slid an arm around his neck and pulled him down onto the stairs.

TESSA & WILL

"Will." Tessa sank down beside him on the bed. "There is no war."

MATTHEW

"A lapidary phrase is one that is worth carving into stone," said Matthew, "and preserving forever — a wise saying such as we are dust and shadows, or alternately, any words that come out of my mouth."

JAMES

"That's because you’re drunk," said James. They were both sprawled at the same round table in an upper room of the Devil Tavern on Fleet Street.

MATTHEW

"I think too much and I drink too much," said Matthew, "that's my problem."

MATTHEW talking to JAMES

"Please recall that I am the pale neurasthenic one and you are the dark brooding one. It is tedious when you mix up our roles."

MATTHEW & JAMES

Matthew held out his hands. “Pax,” he said, wheedlingly. “Let it be peace between us. You can pour the rest of the port* on my head.”

James’ mouth curved up into a smile. It was impossible to stay angry with Matthew. It was almost impossible to get angry at Matthew.

* as it turns out, a definition of ‘port’ is a strong, sweet dark red (occasionally brown or white) fortified wine, originally from Portugal, typically drunk as a dessert wine. that’s how I made the connection between these snippets and arranged them so. it’s not confirmed.

WILL & LUCIE ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

“What if Cordelia has changed her mind, and says she will not have a minx like you?”

“She would never!” Lucie was outraged.

“No,” Will agreed. “She would not. As far as I am concerned, you shall perform the ceremony as soon as you please. All I want is for you and Cordelia to live a long and happy life, and never be parted.”

CECILY ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

"I am pleased - it is high time I think more girls became parabatai with each other," said Cecily.

WILL & CORDELIA ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

“Cordelia Carstairs,” Will said, after greeting her mother. “How pretty you’ve become.”

Cordelia beamed. If Will thought she was pretty, perhaps his son thought so, too. Of course Will was entirely prejudiced toward all things Carstairs. He even thought Alastair was perfect (and, possibly, also pretty.)

LUCIE

The Beautiful Cordelia was a novel that Lucie had begun when she was twelve.

“THE BEAUTIFUL CORDELIA” LUCIE & CORDELIA ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

Cordelia glanced over her shoulder. “Is it — I mean, I wish to chat alone with you, too, but are we being dreadfully rude asking your brother to walk behind us?”

“Not a bit,” Lucie assured her. “Look at him. He’s quite distracted, reading.”

And he was. James had a book out and was calmly reading while he walked. Though he seemed entirely caught up in whatever he was perusing, he nevertheless skirted oncoming passers-by, the occasional rock or fallen branch, and once even a small boy holding a hoop, with admirable grace. Cordelia suspected that if she had tried such a stunt, she would have crashed into a tree.

“You’re so lucky,” Cordelia said, wistfully, still looking over her shoulder at James.

“Goodness me, why?” Lucie looked at her with wide eyes. Where James’ eyes were amber, Lucie’s were a pretty pale blue, a shade lighter than her father’s. The famous dark blue Herondale eyes had gone to Will’s sister’s children.

Cordelia’s head snapped back around. “Oh, because —“ Because you get to spend time with James every day? She doubted Lucie thought that was any special gift; one didn’t, when it was one’s family. “He’s such a good older brother. If I’d asked Alastair to walk ten paces behind me in a park he would have made sure to stick by my side the entire time just to be annoying.”

“Pfft!” Lucie exhaled. “Of course I adore Jamie but he’s been dreadful lately, ever since he fell in love.”

She might as well have dropped an incendiary device on Cordelia’s head. Everything seemed to fly apart around her. “He’s what?”

“Fallen in love,” Lucie repeated, with the look of someone enjoying imparting a bit of gossip. “Oh, he won’t say with who, of course, because it’s Jamie and he never tells us anything. But Father’s diagnosed him and he says it’s definitely love.”

“You make it sound like consumption.” Cordelia’s head was whirling with dismay. James in love? With who? The look he had given her when she stepped down from the carriage, perhaps she had imagined that?

“Well, it is a bit, isn’t it? He gets all pale and moody and stares off out of windows like Keats.”

“Did Keats stare out of windows? I don’t recall hearing that.”

Lucie plowed on, undeterred by the question of whether England’s foremost romantic poet did or did not stare out of windows. “He won’t say anything to anyone but Matthew, and Matthew is a tomb where James is concerned. I heard a bit of their conversation once by accident, though —“

“Accident?” Cordelia raised an eyebrow.

“I may have been hiding beneath a table,” said Lucie, with dignity. “But it was only because I had lost an earring and was looking for it.”

Cordelia suppressed a smile. “Go on.”

“He is definitely in love, and Matthew definitely thinks he is being foolish. He does not like her.“

CORDELIA, LUCIE & MATTHEW ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

Cordelia clutched Lucie’s hand as they jolted through the streets in the Carstairs’ carriage, surrounded by the blurred traffic of omnibuses, motorcars, and pedestrians. Advertisements whirled past. THE HORSESHOE HOTEL. THREE GUINEA STOUT. NEW PALACE STEAMERS. Signs advertising tailors and fishmongers, hair tonic and cheap printing.

Matthew, sitting across from them on the upholstered carriage seat, was muttering and swearing to himself, his hair sticking out madly.

“Hidebound,” he muttered. “Weasels.”

“What?” said Lucie.

“I think he said hidebound weasels,” said Cordelia. “But who do you mean, Matthew? Are you angry at us?”

Matthew flung himself sideways so his long legs were pulled up on the bench seat in front of him, and his profile was presented to Lucie and Cordelia. It was a fine profile: he was much more delicate-featured than his brother, who had a broad, strong face. Matthew had a face that looked as if it had been meant to be painted on china.

“Of course not,” he said. “It’s just appalling how they all treat James.” He glanced at Cordelia, and then at Lucie. “She knows, doesn’t she?”

JAMES, TESSA & WILL ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

James could see his mother moving like an anxious pale star among the guests in her lilac dress, greeting each of them warmly, welcoming them to her home. She had not glamoured herself to look her husband’s age for the evening, and she appeared enormously young, though her hair was done up like a gracious older woman’s, not a girl’s. When Will materialized out of the crowd and came to put his arm around Tessa, smiling down at her, the gray at his temples flashed like silver. James looked away; he loved his parents for being extraordinary, but sometimes he also hated them for the same thing.

JAMES & CORDELIA ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

James and Matthew separated, Matthew to dance with Lucie, and James to speak to his parents. Cordelia saw them glance over toward her and looked away quickly; still, she was not at all surprised when James appeared a moment later in front of her, flashing a smile at his aunt and uncle.

“Miss Carstairs,” he said, with a slight bow in Cordelia’s direction. “Would you favor me with this dance?”

“It’s a waltz,” said Cordelia’s mother, before Cordelia could speak. “My daughter does not know how to waltz.”

Cordelia bit her lip. She certainly knew how to dance: her mother had engaged an expert instructor to teach her the quadrille and the lancer, the stately minuet and the cotilion. But the waltz was a seductive dance, one where you could feel your partner’s body against yours, scandalous when it had first become popular.

She very much wanted to waltz with James.

JAMES & CORDELIA ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

"Who's the boy tripping over his own feet?" Cordelia asked as the boy in question, a slender, ink-stained young man with spectacles and tousled brown curls, nearly careened into Lucie and Matthew.

"That's Christopher Lightwood. My cousin. Alas, Christopher is far more at home with beakers and test tubes than he is with female company. Let's just hope he doesn’t pitch poor Rosamund Townsend into the refreshment table."

"Is he in love with her?"

"Lord, no, barely knows her," said James. "Charles and Ariadne* are engaged, and Barbara Lightwood has an understanding with George** Hayward. Beyond that, I'm not sure I can think of any romances brewing in our set. Though having you and Alastair here might bring us some excitement, Daisy."

Her heart leaped. "I didn't realize you remembered that old nickname."

"What, Daisy?” He was holding her close as they danced: she could feel the heat of him all up and down her front, making her prickle all over. "Of course I remember it. I gave it to you. I hope you don't intend me to stop using it."

"Of course not. I like it." She forced herself not to move her gaze from his. Goodness, his eyes were startling up close. They were the color of golden syrup, almost shocking against the black of his pupils. She had heard the whispers, knew people found his eyes odd and alien, a sign of his difference. She thought they were lovely: the color of fire and gold, the way she imagined the heart of the sun. "Though I don't think it suits me. Daisy sounds like a pretty little girl in hair ribbons."

"Well," he said. "You are at least -"

He broke off. She heard the click as he swallowed: he was looking past her, at someone who had just come into the room. Cordelia followed his glance, and saw a tall woman, thin as a scarecrow and dressed in the black of mourning, with gray-streaked auburn hair done in the style of decades ago piled on her head. Tessa was hurrying toward her, a concerned look on her face. Will was following, and goodness, what did they both look so worried about?

As Tessa reached her, the woman stepped aside, revealing the girl who had been standing behind her. A girl, dressed all in ivory, with a soft waterfall of white-gold curls gathered back from her face. The girl moved forward gracefully to greet Tessa and Will, and as she did so, James dropped Cordelia's hands.

They were no longer dancing. Cordelia stood, frozen in confusion, as James turned away from her without a word and strode across the room toward the girl.

* in the original snippet, her name was Daphne, it’s been changed to Ariadne, confirmed.

** see next snippet

BARBARA & THOMAS ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

Barbara patted Thomas, as if his brawny arm was a small boy’s head. “I was merely anxious about you, Tommy. Surely you are not vexed.”

Thomas’s brows were drawn sharply together, making his amiable countenance dark for the briefest interval. Then he sighed, drew his sister toward him in the circle of his arm, and stooped to press a kiss upon her brow.

“No, Babs,” he said. “Of course I am not vexed. Can you spare your brother a dance, though I know Oliver** will be loath to part with you? I will take care not to be clumsy.”

** unsure if George’s name has been changed to Oliver or if they are even the same person.

THOMAS, CHRISTOPHER & GRACE ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

“Christopher,” said Thomas. “Would you take James away immediately and show him an interesting scientific experiment?”

Christopher frowned. “Which one?”

“Any one at all!” said Thomas. “I will escort the ladies home.”

Christopher’s brow cleared. “Ah, I understand perfectly. This is what Matthew said we were to do, about not letting James out of our sight and above all else keeping him away from…”

He trailed off, gazing at Grace with distant alarm.

GRACE

Be careful what you say to me, Grace told him. There is nothing I cannot make you do.

[ popularly assumed to be JAMES talking to GRACE ]

"That was vile, what you made me do, and vile that you made me do it."

THOMAS & LUCIE ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

Apprehension stole across Thomas’s face. “Lucie, you must not challenge Grace to a duel.”

“We shall see where the night takes us,” Lucie declared.

“Oh good,” said Thomas. “I see you intend to Herondale to the fullest.”

JAMES

Make a wish, Jamie

JAMES

"Stop!" James cried. He felt as if he were drowning. He had always been shy...

JAMES & BARBARA

The world had gone monochrome. James saw broken, black walls, a splintered floor, and dust that glittered like dull jewels scattered across the place where Barbara had fallen.

SHADOWHUNTERS FOUR ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

James cried out. Lightning seemed to fork behind his vision, and suddenly he was back in Regent’s Park, kneeling on the grass. There was a firm grip on his shoulders. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” said an urgent voice, and James — his breath tearing in and out of his chest — tried to focus on what was in front of him.

Matthew.

Everything was blurred in that moment but Matthew’s face, his green eyes wide and dark and steady. Behind him moved other figures; they seemed in that moment like the shapes James had been finding in the clouds — inchoate and untouchable.

“Jamie, breathe,” Matthew said, and his voice was the only steady thing in a world turning upside down. It had been years since this had happened. Years. The horror of it happening in front of a crowd of people —

“Did they see me?” he said in a cracked voice. “Did they see me turn?”

“You didn’t,” Matthew said, “or at least, only a very little bit — perhaps just a bit fuzzy round the edges —“

“It’s not funny,” James said through his teeth, but Matthew’s humor acted like a slap of cold water; he opened his eyes fully, saw Thomas and Christopher looking down at him. They had positioned themselves so as to block him from the crowd at the lake’s edge.

“Get up,” Thomas said. “It’s the best thing you can do, James, we’ll tell them you tripped or fell.” His hazel eyes were anxious but his tone was reassuring. “Honestly all the attention was on Ariadne — “

Matthew’s hands on James’ shoulders turned into a grip on his arms, and James was hauled upright by his three best friends. Christopher produced a handkerchief from somewhere and began to dust his lapels.

“Chris,” said Matthew. He was the only person who ever used that nickname for Christopher besides Anna. “Stop. Who cares if he’s dusty? He was just invisible.”

“But he isn’t any more,” Christopher pointed out.

“We need to get you back to the Institute,” said Matthew to James in a low voice. “If you’re going to start suddenly going all — shadowy — for no reason, then the Silent Brothers —“

“Not the Silent Brothers,” said Thomas. “Just Zachariah.”

JAMES & MATTHEW

The whole way to the Fairchilds’ James had felt as if he were choking, and now he could breathe, the pressure on his chest easing. He couldn’t find words now, couldn’t do anything but clutch on to the front of Matthew’s shirt and put his head down on his shoulder.

JAMES & CORDELIA ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

Cordelia was alone in the hallway. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed open the door to James’ room.

She had never been in a boy’s bedroom before, and it was quite a scandalous action to enter now, but the significance of it seemed small, swallowed up by her worry. James was half under the covers of the bed, moving restlessly from side to side, his face flushed with fever. His nightclothes clung to him, wet with sweat. It was a bright day outside and sunlight speared through the room, illuminating the bowls of burning herbs that Enoch had left behind.

James rolled toward her. His eyes, the color of sunlight, blinked open slowly. “Matthew?” he said. “Matthew, is that you?”

CORDELIA

A betraying hope swelled in her heart and for a moment she allowed herself to imagine being engaged to James, being welcomed into Lucie's family.

JAMES

The moonlight softened the harsh gold of James' eyes to a dark umber. How changed would his life have been if his eyes had not been a sign of his difference?

JAMES & CORDELIA

Cordelia blinked, bewildered. "James?"

"I suffered every thorn for you," he said. "I would again."

JAMES & UNKNOWN GIRL

"Hold my hand, James," she said.

WILL & JAMES ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

“Matthew told me what happened at the park,” Will muttered in a voice no one but James could hear. James shot a betrayed look at Matthew, who shrugged and gave him a half-smile. Matthew could be relied on to tattle on James if he thought it was for his own good. “Thank the Angel for Matthew and Thomas and Christopher.” He touched James’ face. “I regret ever having said that your generation was wasting its time with parties and boating and dancing. All I wish for you is to be able to amuse yourself in a pointless fashion during peace and never, ever be in danger.”

ANNA & CORDELIA ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

"To take tea with Anna Lightwood," said Cordelia. "She invited me."

CORDELIA

Cordelia felt her back stiffen. "I accepted the invitation," she said. "I will go."

ANNA & CORDELIA ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

Anna Lightwood lived on Percy Street, a small byway near Tottenham Court Road. It was made up of long rows of houses of red brick that all looked very much the same. Each had sash windows, white-painted doors, brick chimneys, a shallow set of steps and a fence about the servants’ entrance made of black wrought iron.

On the stairs in front of No. 30, a girl sat crying. She was a very fashionable girl, in a walking-dress of blue foulard with lace trimmings and acres of flounces about the skirt. She wore a head-band trimmed with silk roses, and they wobbled as she cried.

Cordelia checked the address she had written down again, hoping it would have changed. No, definitely Number 30. She sighed, squared her shoulders, and approached.

“Pardon me,” she said, as she reached the steps. The girl was blocking them completely; there was no way to politely edge past. “I’m here to see Anna Lightwood?”

The girl’s head jerked up. She was very pretty: blond and rosy-cheeked, though she’d been crying. She gave Cordelia a deeply wary look. “Who are you, then?”

“I, ah…” Cordelia peered more closely at the girl. Definitely a mundane: no marks, no glamour. “I’m her cousin?”

“Oh.” Some of the suspicion went out of the girl’s face. “I — I am here because —“ She went off in a fresh spate of tears.

“Might I enquire as to the problem? Is there something I can do?” Cordelia asked, though she rather dreaded finding out why as it seemed the sort of thing where she might have to come up with a solution.

“Anna,” the girl wept. “I loved her — I love her still! I would have given it all up for her, all of it, polite society and all its rules, just to be with her, but she has thrown me out like a dog on the street!”

“Now, Emmeline,” drawled a voice, and Cordelia looked up to see Anna leaning out of an upstairs window. She was wearing a man’s dressing gown in rich purple and gold brocade, and her hair was a cap of loose, short waves. “You can’t say you’ve been thrown out like a dog when you’ve got your mama, two butlers, and a footman coming for you.” She waved. “Hello, Cordelia.”

“Oh, dear,” said Cordelia, and patted Emmeline gently on the shoulder.

“Besides, Emmeline,” said Anna. “You’re to be married Wednesday. To a baronet.”

“I don’t want him!” Emmeline sprang to her feet. “I want you!”

“No,” said Anna. “You want a baronet.”

LUCIE & ALASTAIR ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

He might be Cordelia’s brother, but she did not like him above half.

Moreover, at the present moment, he presented the appearance of a lunatic. Beneath his unbuttoned coat his waistcoat was disarranged, and one side of his high wingtip collar was dreadfully askew. His improbably light hair was out of its usual careful shape, pomaded strands going wildly in all directions and glittering electric bright under an arc lamp. On Percy Street, the street lights were older and less reliable, their fierce yellow burn stripping them all down to harsh lines.

“You’ve lost your hat, Alastair,” said Lucie.

Alastair said: “I have lost my sister!”

Lucie went cold. “What do you mean? Has something happened to Cordelia?”

UNKNOWN GIRL

Does love mean anything to you, she said. Or is it just something people give you easily, the way you give toys to a child?

ANNA & GRACE

“I respect a heartbreaker,” said Anna. “People are better off without hearts anyway. But you don’t leave people better off. You’re not a heartbreaker, Grace Blackthorn. You’re a life destroyer.”

MATTHEW & ANNA

"Anna can seduce anyone," said Matthew.

ANNA

"Preferably not boys," said Anna, without looking up. "Then I have to pretend to be interested."

JAMES & ANNA

Anna raised her eyebrow at James as he turned away, but James ignored it. Anna had been raising her eyebrows at him all his life.

ANNA & COUSINS ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

Anna’s deep-blue eyes narrowed as she studied him. James was sitting on the edge of his chair, hands clasped together and leaning forward in Anna’s direction. These cousins looked more like brother and sister than James and Lucie, or Anna and Christopher. James’s face was chiseled and serious, while Anna’s features were sharp and roguish, but they shared the same coloring of crow-black hair and snow-white skin. More than that, both had an air of cleverness that seemed thrown up as a defense against sensitivity, sharp minds that shut away hearts too easily broken. Seeing the similarity made Cordelia wonder what had happened to Anna, and fear what might happen to James.

Anna flicked an eyebrow upward, a scratch of ink dashed across a page. “Ah yes, about that. Let me be perfectly clear what you are asking: you want me to seduce a pretty warlock in order to procure you an [item redacted for spoilers!]?”

Anna surveyed the room, and when she was answered with cautious nods she threw her hands into the air.

“You are off your heads, every one of you.”

“Can you not do it?” Thomas asked apprehensively.

Anna toyed with her watch chain so the chain caught the light and glittered. “Oh, I daresay I could.”

There was a collective moan lamenting Thomas’s stupidity in asking such a question. Lucie told Thomas he was a dolt. Thomas begged Anna’s pardon.

“Not at all, Thomas, I know you’re an innocent soul. That said,” Anna drawled, “I take many issues with your request. For a start, it is against my strict policy to seduce anybody twice.”

“Every outlaw must have a code,” James said.

ANNA

"No one ever just wants to have tea," said Anna. "Tea is always an excuse for a clandestine agenda."

ANNA

"Do you think he's in love?" Anna said. "People can be rather awful when they're in love."

MATTHEW

"But is it wise to prove James isn't a lunatic?" said Matthew.

ANNA

"You might leave that to me," said Anna.

LUCIE & GRACE

And there beside her was Grace. Lucie remembered Grace as a determinedly poised twelve-year-old but she was quite different now. Cold and lovely and statuesque.

TATIANA, GRACE, JAMES, LUCIE & CORDELIA ( CHAIN OF GOLD )

From where they were, they had a perfect view of James, standing straight and polite as Tatiana Blackthorn, wearing a faded fuschia dresses stained with dark spots, advanced on him, a witchlight torch in her hand.

“How dare you come here, Will Herondale,” she said, a savage tone to her voice. “What is left for you to destroy? You murdered my husband and my father —“

Lucie made a small whimpering noise. Cordelia clutched at her cold hand, squeezing it for comfort.

“That’s James.” It was Grace, dressed all in a long white nightgown with a white dressing-gown over it. White slippers covered her feet and her blonde hair was loose, falling over her shoulders. “It isn’t Mr. Herondale, Mama. It’s his son.”

LUCIE & JESSE*

He really did have a most arresting face, Lucie thought. She firmly believed it was all right to stare at people when you were a writer. Writers needed to gather material. That was all there was to it.

* not confirmed, but popularly assumed and not without good reason.

LUCIE & UNKNOWN PERSON

"Miss Herondale?" said a soft voice behind her.

[ most likely JESSE & LUCIE ]

But Lucie was staring at the boy who had come in with them. The boy who she had last seen in Brocelind Forest. Lucie was ten when she met the boy in the forest. Lucie looked for him in the forest after that, but she never saw him again. It would be ten years before she saw him again.

[ these snippets are actually separated but they flow well so I put them together. ]

JESSE

Jesse sighed and looked up at the chandelier. "I have two ages," he said. "I am twenty-four. And I am sixteen."

[ popularly assumed to be JESSE & LUCIE ]

"Can no one else see you?"

JAMES & LUCIE

James went white. "Lucie?"

CORDELIA & JAMES

Not tie him to the bed, Cordelia thought. Not cut his beautiful hair. She loved his hair: it was black like his father's, black as night, dark as a place you could tell secrets in.

ALASTAIR, CORDELIA & MRS BRIDGESTOCK

“Disgraceful,” said Mrs Bridgestock. “I know your face. You are that Persian boy. Are you not ashamed to be running around corrupting nice young people? I suppose you are only following your father’s example, but considering what happened to him, you should really know better.”

Cordelia wished to rush to her brother’s defense, but she did not dare move.

Alastair bared his teeth at Mrs Bridgestock. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

LUCIE & MATTHEW

A coat settled on Lucie’s shoulders, bottle green superfine and warm from the heat of Matthew’s body, smelling of expensive cologne. Lucie glanced up to see Matthew’s face above hers, limned by sunlight and the gold of his hair, serious for once as he carefully buttoned the coat closed. His hands were usually swift and bright with rings, flying through the air when he talked or to the curving hilt of his rapier when he fought, but now they were moving with great deliberation over such a small task. She heard him draw in a slow breath.

JAMES

James' heart lurched in his chest. "We were childhood friends."

UNKNOWN GIRL

"You lied to me," she said.

UNKNOWN BOY ( the person in the pin was a guy )

"You carry my life in those careless hands"

ANNA ( SHADOWHUNTERS FOUR, the pin was four boys )

"Delicate boys must be protected," said Anna.

UNKNOWN BOY

The house has all fallen down into ruins, he said.

UNKNOWN BOY AND GIRL ( in the pin, they both had dark/brown hair )

We could get married, she said.

JAMES & CORDELIA

To the last hour.

[ according to Cassandra Clare’s The Last Hours Pinterest board. The picture was a girl with red hair and a guy with black hair. Cordelia and James fit the description best. ]

UNKNOWN BOY AND GIRL

Death is not the end.

UNKNOWN BOY AND GIRL

The shadows of our own desires stand between us and our better angels, and thus their brightness is eclipsed.

SHADOWHUNTERS FOUR

One for all and all for one.

TWO UNKNOWN BOYS

We had grown as gods, as the gods in heaven, souls fair to look upon, goodly to greet, one splendid spirit, your soul and mine.

SHADOWHUNTERS FOUR

All together, or not at all.

TWO UNKNOWN GIRLS

Thank you angels for ensuring she’s a good dancer, loves to dance and takes me out dancing.

[ unsure if the last five are actually snippets, it’s not in the Shadowhunters’ Wikia but it’s on Cassandra Clare’s The Last Hours Pinterest board so I just added them in. ]

#the last hours #tlh #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #cassandra clare #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns

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paperclipninja · 5 years

Text

Younger post-ep ramble 6x04

Well now, we’ve hit a rather interesting point in the season now haven’t we? Can you say DRAH-MAH. This week’s episode, ‘An Inside Glob’, sees the tension that’s been mounting in the first three episodes of season 6 reach boiling point. And then boil over. Into a restaurant full of onlookers. Then onto Reddit. Lol. Now I may be biased because of my love of Miriam Shor (or I am simply an appreciator of good directing when I see it), but this week’s ep was so well put together, it felt like there was ample room for each scene to breathe and the pacing overall felt significantly less frantic than it sometimes does. There was a familiarity, for lack of a better word, about the structure and the feel of this ep, not to mention the writing left me legit laughing out loud many times throughout. The writers are bringing it this season. We also see the welcome return of two faves: Charles’ three-piece suit and Liza’s silver-suit power-tude. Let’s dive on in.

You always know it’s going to be a good ep when it opens with a loft heart-to-heart between Liza and Maggie, but not before Liza meets Maggie’s new boo Beth (with Liza’s ‘ew’ and hand wiping after Maggie tells her they just finished a session equal parts gold and gross). Their whole interaction, from the ‘I promise not to call him Chaz’ (was anyone else hoping she would call him Chaz, because I was HANGING for a Chaz drop at dinner. There’s still time...), to Liza sharing her concerns that Charles is secretly financing a new company and Maggie trying to justify all the coincidences and reassure her, it was just premium bff content. Not to mention a great set-up for the episode and follow on from the last one.

Liza continues to try and allay her suspicions about Charles by getting Kelsey’s view of the funding source after the morning meeting with my new fave power-trio (quick poll: Zane always looking like a dog who just ate your pizza - accurate or nay?) and Diana brings the top quality delivery of one liners right from the get-go as we’re introduced to this week’s author, Bronwyn Madigan (aka, the cash cow whose milk Millennial could use...yes, D. Trout, you did need to say that). Apparently baby boomers like to top off their reading of erotica with a good meatloaf (actual meatloaf, get your minds out of the euphemistic gutter) and that is now two foodstuffs I have a strained relationship with following this ep of Younger. Liza is able to quash her spidey senses re: the Mercury money briefly, as Kelsey reveals she’s been doing some digging and discovered the company is operating out of the financial district, therefore obviously it’s a big media company behind it. Obviously...

Lo and behold Kelsey marches her feisty self down to the Mercury office to confront Zane and weaves through hopeful start-up founders in a co-working space to find him (also, are AirPods a pre-req to land a job at Mercury?). Their entire exchange had a couple of ‘whoa’ moments for me. Exhibit A, when discussing how Zane secured Audrey Colbert’s book:

Kelsey: ‘So you slept with her? God, that is completely unethical. And so creepy”

Zane: ‘But it’s fine when you do it?’

File under: T for TRUTH. Not gonna lie, I almost applauded. I would have filed under H for Hypocrite except the next part of the conversation, in which Kelsey throws the accusation that Zane went after Audrey because he knew she was (and I’m with Zane on this one, she is going to need to learn to suck it up when Millennial loses out on books, our pal Kels is on one steep learning curve), followed with, ‘that book was important to me and you knew it’, goes straight to the H folder. How does Zane know it? Could it be because Kelsey told Zane she was going after Audrey’s book? Even after he told her he had a job, that he was just waiting for everything to line up and considering his history of swooping in and being competitive? While they are not fully comparable situations, I found this a bit rich considering the grief Kelsey gave Liza for discussing business with Charles (I get that was her insecurity and feeling he would interfere), when her discussions with Zane have seemingly led him to going after this book. Which is 100% in character for him btw.

I have been liking a lot of Kelsey’s boss moments this season but this week it certainly felt like she was in way over her head. At her lunch with Lauren, yet another combo I thoroughly enjoy on my screen, we once again see Lauren being the relentlessly supportive friend she always is and educating Kelsey on the dos and don’ts of dating apps (surely Kelsey knew that deleting an app doesn’t delete your profile right??? Putting it down to stress amnesia). Pointing out that putting your job title on your dating profile if it is in any way a potential threat to male ego is a big no-no (’this kind of over-accomplishment only works if you’re trying to pick up women’), Lauren offers up that Kelsey suffers from BDE. Of course we later discover that rather than big dick energy, Kelsey is suffering bald dude energy, confirmed by her alopecia diagnosis. I did so enjoy Kelsey’s dramatic reactions, ‘just keep an eye out ok?’, to the whole ordeal and it certainly added another element to the rising tension.

Cue hilarious conversation with Diana about her own battle with hair loss (not on her head) along with the rest of her ailments (shingles seems to be a running theme this season. Did someone in the writers room have a shingles flair up recently after reading a particularly terrible autobiography or suffer month-specific breakouts aka Diana’s electric tube top? Need to know). Even though it was not making Kelsey feel better necessarily, this was Diana being supportive in her own way and I am just here for it every day of the week. I think what I enjoyed most about the office scenes in this episode, aside from every single line that came out of Diana’s mouth, were the moments that were reminiscent of the old office dynamic. From Diana bleating ‘Liza’ as she enters Liza’s office (still can’t believe that’s a thing) with the idea of advertising erotica on the bike kiosks to the sarcasm when Liza asks ‘Bronwyn’s?’ and Diana responds with ‘no, my own’. We finally get to meet author of ‘The Seasoned Slut’ (loving the guest casting this season btw) who oozes a self-assurance that only serves to emphasise her reason for not re-signing with Millennial: that her problem ‘is with the lack of value placed on experience’. Ugh, I loved this line.

I loved it because it is an absolute reality, especially for women in the workplace, and goes hand in hand with the ageism this show’s entire premise was built upon. I loved it because this show tells us that experience is and should be valued through Zane’s comment in episode one, that Kelsey should not lose Diana as she is the best in the business and Kelsey telling Diana that she values and respects her. And I loved this line because the set-up for this season remains true to the original premise and challenges it at the same time, taking another look at the role age/experience and gender play in success and reinventing yourself. Did I mention I love this show?

Liza’s reaction to the question of ‘where is the grey hair in the room?’ was also noted, a nice reminder that the age-lie is still in play and is never far from the surface. The other thing I loved in the meeting with Bronwyn was Diana’s horror that she a) might be considered the demographic for her books and b) ‘do people think I’m her age?’ I cannot imagine a time I will ever watch this line and not roar with laughter. I also love that that was the main takeaway Diana had from the whole BJ comment this woman just casually dropped in as she exited, you know, as one might mention they know a great bagel place you might enjoy nearby.

Josh’s parenting journey continues to unfold as he gets his first overnight stay with Gemma, but not before experiencing some kind of parental rite of passage and being squirted in the face with breast milk. I know there is a lot of mistrust of Clare out there in the internet but I will keep saying this week after week, I am so enjoying seeing Josh and Clare navigating this modern-day parenting arrangement together. I appreciate Josh’s desire to be there for both Clare and Gemma in any way he can and I appreciate that Clare appears to be open and wanting the same. I am not the biggest fan of baby storylines in general but I tell you what, to see Lauren pacing up and down cradling this little person, I am 100% pro-baby. This is one of my favourite moments of the whole episode and just when I thought there couldn’t possibly be any more layers to Lauren Heller, I get the up-all-night-with-crying-baby Lauren and I simply cannot: ‘I have been up all night with a crying baby. Why? I don’t know, because the rest of you either don’t have ears or you don’t have souls’. Early contender for line of the season. Kelsey’s bag-of-hair inducing scream finally wakes Josh and Lauren’s reaction, for him to ‘get it together man, Kelsey doesn’t need this’, epitomises Lauren’s selfless nature (which I just love as it seems so contradictory to her sometimes self-absorbed tendencies). It was not because she was up all night with his child, it was that Kelsey was in the midst of a crisis that Lauren needed Josh to pull it together and it just reinforces yet again what a multi-dimensional, caring character she is. And yes Josh, you are the dad, not the babysitter (kudos for this Alison Brown) so you may need to learn to sleep a little more lightly or something FYI.

Kelsey’s hair stress continues to play out as she runs into Maggie, who was also hoping to make a covert pharmaceutical purchase and the two wander back to Maggie’s for the scene I have been looking forward to since the possibility of such a scene came into play. I am of course talking about dinner at the loft and the integration of Charles into the friend circle. Kelsey’s freak out seems to be hitting fever pitch as she asks Beth for advice but this is soon interrupted by the arrival of Charles and Liza, who come bearing blackout cake (which I googled and holy chocolate pudding it looks AMAZING) in the most adorbs coupley entrance and don’t mind me, just having a quiet gush over here. Ok, I’m done. While Kelsey is over chatting with her old boss, Beth puts her naturopathy into practice by suggesting Maggie take a more natural approach to treating her yeast infection, doing some seasoning of her own to let a clove of garlic work its magic. Between jalapeno dick and garlic vag, this show loves to make us consider our spices in a whole new light.

This entire dinner party scene was next level, I want to frame a picture of it and put it on my wall because yes. We have casual, relaxed Charles, who is the first to ask if there is garlic bread on the menu (I love so much that he was the first to smell it) and seriously, from this moment, the unfolding of the garlic saga was nothing short of amazing. Kelsey was so amped this whole scene, she’s like a tightly wound ball and it was palpable. Her interjections as she commented that it smells like an everything bagel and agreement about the garlic knot and escargot were just brilliant contrasts to her otherwise increasing intensity. I so adored seeing Kelsey and Charles interacting casually and seeing what this would (ahem, could have) look like. But Kelsey asking Liza if she’d told Charles about Brownyn Madigan...I’m sorry, but how could she WHEN SHE CAN’T TALK ABOUT WORK WITH CHARLES? This bit made my head hurt a bit. Surely Liza in that moment must have been thinking the same (also Liza’s moment of identifying a garlic knot, so so good).

What I love most about this scene is that we have Kelsey’s conversation getting more intense by the minute as she jumps from unloading about the stress of work, to Zane and his new venture, before finally climaxing with her ‘who is it?’ declaration, all the while having zero suspicion that Mercury’s investor is sitting right beside her. Side note: I really like Charles’ comment that he’s sure it is business, not personal re: Zane. I think it’s interesting considering the stereotype that women are too emotional vs. men and I’m curious to see how this plays out this season as Kelsey finds her feet. Meanwhile, Charles is trying to have a nice double date with his gf, while also keeping a secret that is the cause of much of the distress Kelsey is sharing with the table, while Liza takes the opportunity to make Charles squirm by pressing the point about the money for Zane’s venture coming from somewhere. It’s such an intricate web and of course parallel to that is Maggie’s secret vagina garlic that has the whole room assuming some kind of paranormal baking is taking place before Maggie responds to Kelsey’s ‘who is it?’ with, ‘it’s me!’ and it was just too much. My reaction was the same as everyone around the table when Maggie announced the source of the garlicky aroma, what a dinner party (and what a way for Charles to avoid any further scrutiny).

I am so glad that the conversation that needed to happen finally did this week and that was, of course, Liza confronting Charles about his involvement in Mercury. Oy, my heart. It broke a little when Liza gave Charles the opportunity to come clean and he didn’t and she had to ask so directly. It was so good to hear these two talking, like properly talking, and Charles explaining that he had to make choices in order to be with Liza but he never wanted to give up publishing for good was great insight into the journey Charles has been on post-Empirical, especially as we really haven’t been privy to that. I felt for both of them at various stages during the conversation. I do believe Liza understands why Charles would want to reinvent himself but I also understand why she would feel so hurt that he would keep such a huge thing from her (although again, they’d agreed not to talk about work at Liza’s request so *insert shrug emoji here*).

But it does highlight an ongoing issue which I really hope gets properly addressed sometime soon and that is where Liza’s loyalties lie. I think it is unquestionably not ok that Charles set up a rival company while Chairman of the Board of Millennial, for obvious reasons. However, had he told Liza, she would have felt compelled to tell Kelsey, which I have no doubt Charles knows and would expect as she is the publisher, so in not telling Liza he is yes protecting his own interests but also stopping her from being in a compromised position. So while Charles’ secrecy is disappointing, so is Liza’s text to Kelsey the following morning asking to meet before work after Charles asked specifically that she tell no one about him financing Mercury just yet.

This episode comes to a head at Suffolk House in a most spectacular fashion. Hilary Duff really did knock this entire ep out of the water with her acting, I cannot heap enough praise on her for the entire performance. You just knew it was gonna be good when Liza turned up as Kelsey was intercepting Bronwyn in an attempt to convince her that Zane was a bitter ex-employee (not very professional IMO but we won’t focus on that for now), only to discover that Bronwyn didn’t know Zane from a wart on her butt (delightful). She was in fact there to meet...dun-dun-dunnnnn...Charles (shout-out to the three piece suit, always a welcome sight, did not disappoint)! Kelsey was justifiably angry, however the stark contrast in experience and maturity was well and truly on show as she proceeded to express herself very loudly and publicly, despite Charles and Zane suggesting they step outside. Zane clocked the smart phone filming the entire incident and you just knew that Kelsey’s outburst was going to come back to bite her.

Regardless of whether Kelsey was in the right or wrong, she certainly came off worse in the way she handled it. My favourite part of the scene was Liza FINALLY re-awakening that gutsy silver suit wearing power, her turning and telling Bronwyn that Charles called her books matron lit was this season’s manuscript drop. And thank f-ing god. One of the things I’ve always loved about the Liza/ Charles dynamic is that Liza stands up for herself with him when she doesn’t with so many others and she is not afraid to call him out, which has been missing these past couple of eps. So now that that has been restored, I am legit so excited to see how this relationship moves forward.

The ramifications of the restaurant confrontation are of course trending on Reddit by the next morning, and Liza and Diana have the unenviable job of delivering the news that even though Charles was in the wrong for setting up the company the way he did, he has since resigned from the board and a number of authors are making noise about jumping ship to Mercury (I was going to say that I think Kelsey might have preferred it if her eyebrows actually had fallen off in that moment but I feel like that’s probs false).

The fact that Kelsey and Charles are pitted against one another as publishers and Liza and Zane as editors provides the most glorious opportunity to explore the ideas of reputation vs. experience. vs. gender vs. fresh ideas and I am so here for it, so damn excited, and so sure that whatever ends up playing out this season, it will be nothing that I expect. In the meantime I’m going to compile every Diana Trout line from this episode into a ringtone because what workplace wouldn’t want Diana talking about nutcracker’s oesophagus ringing through the open-plan office?

#youngertv #younger tv #ramble #review #6x04 #sutton foster #peter hermann #kelsey peters #diana trout #maggie amato #lauren heller #team charles #younger season 6

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