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#no one said it was necessary to crush my skull to save my mother

waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

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Game of Thrones - 59 CATELYN IX (pages 614-627)

Cat and Robb arrive at the Twins, and Cat tries some politics to open the way forward, lest their campaign end for lack of a bridge.

She feared for Ned and her girls, and for the sweet sons she left behind at Winterfell. And yet there was nothing she could do for any of them, and so she made herself put all thought of them aside. You must save your strength for Robb, she told herself. He is the only one you can help. You must be as fierce and hard as the north, Catelyn Tully. You must be a Stark for true now.

This must be so hard on her. Deliberately compartmentalizing and saving mental strength. That has to be so tough for a mother who loves her children so much. I like how she's dipping into the Stark part of her identity, because there were hints if not outright declarations in her earlier inner monologues that even now, a decade and a half (ish) on that there was still some small part of her that felt like an outsider to the north. Now she's deliberately stepping into that identity, and shoving that doubt aside because the chips are down and this is what she needs to do, who she needs to be to protect her family.

Catelyn put her heels to her horse and rode off, it would not do to make him feel as if his mother were usurping his position. Did you teach him wisdom as well as valor, Ned! she wondered. Did you teach him how to kneel! The graveyards of the Seven Kingdoms were full of brave men who had never learned that lesson.

Again with the good play, leading Robb to where he should be paying attention but letting him get the final steps on his own. Guidance, not hand holding, not smothering, not stepping on his toes. Good balance. Also: "The graveyards of the Seven Kingdoms were full of brave men who had never learned that lesson." ooph, now there's a line.

"I will go," she said loudly. "You, my lady?" The Greatjon furrowed his brow. "Mother, are you certain?" Clearly, Robb was not. "Never more," Catelyn lied glibly. "Lord Walder is my father's bannerman. I have known him since I was a girl. He would never offer me any harm." Unless he saw some profit in it, she added silently, but some truths were did not bear saying, and some lies were necessary.

Ooohh, Cat being ready to walk into danger, while knowing she could be walking into danger, but also knowing it's the safest course of action for them.

It does raise more questions than it answers about your children, but knowing they were raised by technically at least four people to varying degrees, I think we can all accept that no one person is singularly responsible for their... mind sets. ... kind of a metaphor for the whole ASOIAF isn't it? It would be easy to look at specific people and go "literally everything is your fault and your fault alone." but the reality is it was a series of shitty life choices and poorly informed decisions snowballing beyond anyone's control. (Littlefinger certainly had a large part to do with it all though.)

Lord Walder was ninety, a wizened pink weasel with a bald spotted head, too gouty to stand unassisted. His newest wife, a pale frail girl of sixteen years, walked beside his litter when they carried him in. She was the eighth Lady Frey.

I think we should expand the "Petyr's being creepy (around children) so let's kill him" game. I'll start: And then suddenly the walls collapsed as a giant metal monster crashed though it, its mouth opened and Catelyn saw her husband standing in its metallic maw. "Cat, get in the robot!" Cat looked around her to see the rubble from the fallen wall had crushed Walder Frey, as made obviously by the leaking smear of red where he'd been seconds before, though it had missed the eighth Lady Frey. This was probably a bit not good, Cat decided, and let her husband help her into the giant mouth of the metal beast. At the back of its throat there was a staircase that lead up into what should have been the beast's skull. Her daughters and Jeyne Poole were bickering over a strange table with glowing circles and coloured levers. "What is going on?" Cat asked, afraid to hug her daughters, lest they vanish like smoke. "What is this monster?" "Its called a Zord!"

The reader recently finished marathoning a season of Power Rangers and regrets nothing.

Catelyn frowned, disquieted. "I had understood that Lysa's boy was to be fostered with Lord Tywin at Casterly Rock." "No, it was Lord Stannis," Walder Frey said irritably.

Come on, Cat, you can figure this out, people have been lying to you!

"And you are to wed one of his daughters, once the fighting is done," she finished. "His lordship has graciously consented to allow you to choose whichever girl you prefer. He has a number he thinks might be suitable." To his credit, Robb did not flinch. "I see." "Do you consent?" "Can I refuse?" "Not if you wish to cross." "Then I consent," Robb said, solemnly. He had never seemed more manly to her than he did in that moment. Boys might play with swords, but it took a lord to make a marriage pact, knowing what it meant.

This world sucks (: I want better things for this family. She's right though; alliances, not war, make stable kingdoms.

Related reminder: if you cannot say 'no' without negative consequences, or if you fear that you cannot say 'no' without negative consequences, then your ability to consent is impaired.

This is Consent Under Duress. It is not true consent, but that doesn't mean he isn't bound by this decision, because it is still a political contract, and doesn't mean that his later actions aren't cheating.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #a chapter a day reading

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trulyhumblenarcissist · 3 years

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Abourt Rei Himura and BNHA Chapter 301

Now that I've read the official release of chapter 301 I can finally try to gather my thoughts. I think this time the particular rendition of dialogues and inflections provided by Caleb Cook is more crisp and clear than usual, especially in throwing "shade" upon Endeavor as a father figure. But let's do things in order...

Title: THE WRONG WAY TO PUT OUT A FIRE - a simple, but stark message that doesn't leave space for ambiguity. There was a fire, an imminent tragedy that could and should have been avoided, but whoever tried to fix it, did it all wrong and now we have to deal with a huge arson.

CARLESS HANDLING OF FIRE, on the other hand, doesn't quite cut it for me, because it seems like everything was caused by a foolish mistake. "I was carless and now I'm in a pinch"- type of situation, while it's perfectly clear that Endeavor and Rei decided purposefully which "strategy" to use with Touya. A BAD one to say it lightly. Rei's contribution and complicity is debatable, of course, and I'll touch on this later.

Let me get this clear though: I'm not trying in any way to critique the hard work of unofficial translators. I can't say anything relevant because I'm not a translator in the first place (I can barely understand English and my native language on a good day) and also because I am so grateful for everything they do in order to give us really good material FREE OF CHARGE basically a second after the release in Japan. I'm just interested about the different shades of subtext we can catch if we read the story through multiple filters. Every translation is unique because it carries the personal spin of the author even if the bias should be inexistent or ideally undetectable...

However, back to the chapter

REI'S CAGE

The first scene opens on a luxurious classic Japanese villa, with Enji, Rei and her parents discussing the motivation behind Enji's proposal. Or at least we initially think that's what's going on... Because in reality Rei's family couldn't care less about the motivation. Everything these people see is a wealthy, famous guy the next number one hero ready to take their daughter in marriage. I guess the Himuras are pretty broke, thight on cash, their old prestige is definitely gone and all they can do to save themselves from shame and poverty is "to sell" their only remaining asset.

During the whole ordeal, Rei is standing still, silent, cold as ice. She knows she doesn't really have a choice. How mortifying and sad is this? An adult, capable woman has no agency whatsoever, she is used again and again and she stoically accepts this treatment from every single dominant figure in her life until she can't be stoic anymore. I really hope Horikoshi's going to give her a much more proactive role in saving her family and it seems the narrative wants us to expect this type of character development.

I'd like to point out 2 panels in particular:

First one

In this scene the Todorokis are back from their trip to the doc, who clearly said they shouldn't try to conceive a child with a perfect quirk mix because it is dangerous (and morally questionable too). Rei understands this fact and tries to dissuade Enji, but he doesn't listen, because he's projecting all his pent-up resentment and frustration onto Touya. He knows how it feels to crush against an unbreakable wall, since he can't surpass All might and his son can't too. He had to learn this truth the hard way, so Touya needs to do the same. Enji is purposefully throwing upon his son years of failures, self consciousness and despair, just because the boy has to get it into his thick skull that he is a dud, just like his father. This is not a hopeless dad making a mistake bona fide, this is a broken man trying to destroy his self reflection by proxy, annihilating everything Touya is, swiping the kid's identity under the rug. He describes his son's dreams and sadness as something birthed from stubbornness. He is auto-convincing himself however (because Endeavor is not stupid). A little bit later he's basically saying: "Touya let's play make believe! We can go on like everything I had engulfed in your psyche never existed, you're a failed attempt so you don't exist. Your needs and wants are silly and useless, nothing worth dealing with now that I can't make you my prodigy. Why don't you go play with the other failures so that I don't have to look at myself while taking actually care of you. I don't want to see you, because it's too painful, because you're a remainder of my own inadequacy."

Note: If you want to read an incredibly well done analysis about Endeavor's motives and psyche, you can get it on @thyandrawrites , she's dwelt on everything extensively and way better than me.

I really want to talk about Rei though. In the panel I showed above, her expression is a bit tricky to analyse. At first she is very vocal about her position. She doesn't want to put Touya through useless suffering, especially since they have a scientific reason not to. They have no guarantee of success with other children, besides, they could possibly have to deal with other health related issues. However, all it takes to convince her in the end is Enji's half assed attempt at the "It's for Touya's sake" shtick. Is it really? Why doesn't she question her husband anymore?

Well... I think before Natsuo, she was probably hoping Touya would let go "naturally", with time and growth, maybe by taking interest in his other siblings. Rei said she wanted to have more children because in her mind they would have supported and loved each other. Maybe she was naive enough to think that a big family full of kids few years apart from each other was all Touya needed to distract himself from his purposes... BUT and here is the point I want to get across: She was deluding herself too, much like Enji. The ugly truth, in my opinion, is that Rei is a person prone to protect herself by going with everything other people want, especially if said people are capable of hurting her. Yes, she was hurt time and time again, but what would have happened if she really tried to stop Enji?

What I am trying to say is that Rei is the kind of person who endures to survive. She holds a "captive" mentality in which, by indulging her captor's desires, she can continue living with less possibile damage. If I stay still and silent, if I don't make a scene, I can go on, I can hold onto the few things I have that actually make me happy.

Let's think about it... Enji was so obsessed with his psychotic, power-hungry quest that he would have probably disown Rei. She would have been thrown away for a more compliant woman with an ice quirk, or something similar, this resulting in her probably losing everything, the respect and love of her family (the Himuras) and also her own children. Because we know Endeavor can definitely hold a grudge and is vendicative.

So, clarifying, Rei doesn't put up a fight because she is scared for herself in a way... She is scared to be hurt in the worst possible way (by losing her little bit of serenity), so her strategy is to endure and to keep up a facade of control and purpose.

Rei, ironically just like Touya and other characters in mha, doesn't really get what unconditional love is. Her family loves her until she can be useful to the Himura name and status, her husband loves her for her quirk. Her children, however, love her for who she is and she wants to stay with them... Only to be forced to leave them later anyway.

The few times Rei actually smiles are when she is with her babies. She is a deeply loving mother in her core, but her declining mental health makes her a very lacking caregiver.

This panel, in my opinion, shows the point of no return for Rei. She can't keep the glacial facade forever...

After Natsuo's turn to be deemed a failure, Endeavor is crazier than ever, because All Might is as popular and loved as ever and he hasn't make any progress into his eugenetic games. The last two images of Rei are very telling. She is exhausted, but she knows what her husband wants from her this time too. She looks like a lifeless doll and honestly I can easily see Shouto's conception as... Non consensual and I will stop here.

Then Shouto is born, the last, perfect specimen... And Rei isn't doing much for Touya, we can see she's apparently blind towards her eldest son's distress already after Natsuo's birth... But why?

Because she is actively avoiding to face the Touya's problems too.

If Touya is still suffering, is still feeling stressed and worthless, then everything Rei has endured, everything she pretended not to feel for the sake of her family has been completely useless. What Rei cannot look at is her own parental failure, is the concrete proof that while protecting herself and her peace she did not protect her children too, because the two interests were never really aligned, even if she really believed so. She never had a functional family to preserve in the first place and everything she accepted to do was all for the sake of a false sense of belonging.

However is too easy to say she should've rebelled against Enji and dumped his sorry ass. Abuse traps you and your abuser too in a cage tricky to escape.

What I imagine will happen next chapter is one of two things:

Enji stops Touya by using brute force, probably also saying something really scarring to reinforce the notion that Shouto is the only child he cares about.

Rei stops Touya by using her quirk. This act could be considered by Touya another confirmation that even his mother actually does something by her own accord only when Shouto's safety is at risk

Necessary conclusions

I don't blame Rei for her actions too much. She is a victim turned abuser by circumstances, but more importantly she's actually taken mesures to prevent herself from hurting her children again. She's trying to heal for her family's sake, really this time. Ten years spent dealing with guilt and having actual therapy seem a good plan to me. And now she's the one ready to snap Enji back to reality.

Enji, on the other hand, is trying too. It's too little too late, but if he stops avoiding reality and hardly works on understanding his family's point of view I don't think he is completely unredeemable. I don't see him surviving his last confrontation with Touya, thought... But I could be totally wrong.

Obviously everything I've said it's my personal analysis on Rei's character, as I interpret her actions and words, so feel free to contradict me and/or to add anything you might see fit.

#bnha301 #bnha meta #mha #my hero academia #todoroki enji #endevor #todoroki rei #rei himura #todoroki family #tw abuse

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orangepeelers · 4 years

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thunderstorm beneath my skin

i’m actually very proud of this :)) first time writing angst and hurt/comfort but overall i think it turned out pretty good!

also happy birthday j <3

***

Remus felt like he had been peeled open and scooped out.

The news of his mother’s death fell around him like pouring rain, soaking him to his skin, cold seeping into his bones. He read the owl again and again, as if the words would rearrange themselves and assure him that it was just something he’d made up, that he’d take the train home in two weeks for summer break and his mother would be there, holding her arms open to embrace her son. But they stared back at him from their parchment home, blinking as he traced their ink paths for the thousandth time.

James cleared his throat. “You alright, mate?”

Tearing his eyes from the parchment, Remus blinked. The boom of the Great Hall resumed around him, rain evaporating and leaving only mud. But it lingered on his skin, its cool whisper clinging to his robes, frosting his limbs, trapping him with its news.

James and Peter peered at him from across the table, concern widening their eyes. From next to him, Sirius placed a hand on his, reaching a hand up to tuck Remus’ hair behind his ears. He stared into their faces, eyes so familiar from years of tracing their patterns, yet so foreign in the moment. White noise roared in his brain, drowning out anything else.

His mother was dead.

He blinked at them and cleared his throat. “I- Yeah. Yeah, yeah, just uh, just something dad said about the dog. It’s nothing.” The lie clung to his throat, viscous words inching their way out in his small voice.

James frowned. “Whatever it is, you can tell us. You look pale.”

Remus shook his head again. “No, no it’s nothing.”

Sirius carded his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Are you sure? You can-”

“I’m sure!” Remus snapped, a little louder than necessary. He cleared his throat again, as if the truth would inch its way up and explode out of his mouth, knocking away the frail defenses Remus was setting. “I’m fine. I promise.” He gave them all a wan smile, trying to convince them of his facade.

James slowly went back to his food, clearly not convinced. “Okay, Moons.”

Peter opened his mouth, then thought better of what he was going to say and went back to picking at his beef roast. Tears pressed fingers at the back of Remus’ eyes, clawing their way around his throat. He pressed the heel of his palm to the space between his eyebrows. He would not cry. He had two more weeks here. Two weeks where he would pretend everything was fine. Two weeks of pranks and OWLs and a Hogsmeade trip.

He could make it.

Few words were exchanged for the rest of dinner. Remus’ outburst had cast a thick curtain around their section of the dining table, making all the noise of students feel far away. Maybe Remus was the only one who could hear it as thunder shook within his skull, all of the memories of his mother soaked and electrified by lightning.

He would make it.

He had to.

As they trudged up to the common room, Sirius laced his fingers through Remus’ and squeezed. Remus offered a dingy gray smile, paled with grief. Sirius looked into his face and squeezed again, asking a question.

What’s wrong?

“Tired. Studying for owls, y’know.” Sirius nodded pensively and they stepped through the portrait hole.

“I think I’ll turn in early tonight.” Please don’t ask me why please don’t ask me why please don’t-

“Get some rest, Moons. You look like you could use it.” James placed a hand on his shoulder, genuine concern lining his irises.

Remus just nodded, not trusting his voice. Sirius pulled him gently, but he knew that if he collapsed into his arms the truth would come rolling out, loosened by his warm chest and shoulders. So instead he pulled his arm out of his grip and tried for another grin. “Really tired. Sorry.”

The brief look of hurt that flickered across Sirius’ face crushed him further, but he schooled it into a warm look of sympathy. “S’alright baby. Goodnight.”

Remus felt the weight of their stares as he made his way up to their dormitory. He knew his lies weren’t fooling them, but he couldn’t tell them the truth.

Telling the truth would cement her death into the ground. Each word would be a shovel of dirt above her grave, burying her forever. He couldn’t bear the gravity his words would bring thundering down.

***

Remus had gone one week without telling his friends the truth.

It kept him awake at night, his mother’s face smiling in his dreams before melting into grave dirt, his friends’ concerned frowns, rushing around and around like he was on a merry go round, spinning away helplessly.

He saw the way they looked at him at mealtimes and in the common room, like they were seeing someone who was terminally ill but couldn’t quite place it. He noticed how Sirius deflated more and more each time he avoided his warm embraces and soft kisses. Remus knew that if he gave into their familiarity, paper body crumpled in Sirius’ arms, he wouldn’t be able to put himself back together. Even now, he saw how he flaked away each day, brilliant paint chipping and leaving dull green-gray.

They were in the common room now, the only ones doing last minute studying for OWLs. James groaned at his parchment and books, hands flecked with ink as he chewed on the back of his quill. Peter peered at his copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, face utterly perplexed. Next to him, Sirius was ignoring his books and studying Remus, face pensive.

Remus gave up on reading the same paragraph for the hundredth time, letters treading on the muck in his brain but failing to leave any impression. He made half-hearted eye contact with Sirius, eyes tired from his lack of sleep.

Sirius smiled brightly, snapped out of his reverie. “Hey, Re.”

“Hey.” Remus tried for a smile, but his face fell limp from attempting the same expression that had evaded him for a week.

Sirius made the same face he always did when he knew something was wrong. Remus had memorized it by now, just like he’d memorized the dip in his voice when he asked what was wrong, or the clouds in his gray eyes when they peered at him with concern.

“How are you?”

Remus cleared his throat, lie ready to spring out of his mouth. “Fine.”

“Really, Re. I know something’s wrong.”

“I told you. I’m fine. How goes the potions work?”

The perpetual frown on Sirius’ face deepened. “Remus. Please tell me. Maybe I can-”

“I said I was fucking fine!” He snapped, chips of paint tumbling to the ground around him. “Why won’t you believe me? Why won’t you?” He gestured at their corner, Peter and James now watching closely. “I see the way you all look at me. I’m not made of china. Maybe I’d be fine if you just left me the fuck alone.” Tears burned just beneath the surface of his skin, hot and insistent. A lump formed in his throat, like all the lying he was doing had caused an allergic reaction and now he would asphyxiate to death.

Sirius wore a wounded expression, words piercing his skin. James reached a hand out. “C’mon, Moons. We just want to know what’s bothering you. Let us help you.”

Remus looked down at his hand, and back up at his face, features swimming with sympathy. The tears pushing at his eyes were winning their fight. “I- I just- I have to go.”

Before he could run to his dorm, he felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him to look back at its owner. Remus felt like a wounded bird, flitting around on broken wings, flailing uselessly.

“Remus, baby. Please. Please look at me.” Sirius’ raw timbre took all the fight out of Remus. He turned to look at him, really look at him, for the first time in what felt like centuries. From within their stormy depths, his gray eyes offered a lifeline. Something inexpressible by words, something to both drown in and be saved by. An outstretched hand offered to pull him from the edge of the cliff at which he stood, smothered in nothing, and into the arms of his sun and moon.

In that moment, Remus felt like the world’s most fragile object, exterior shattering to powder, falling around their feet, leaving only a raw wound. His tears came rushing out, floodgates finally crushed by their pressure.

The outstretched hand yanked him in and held him close, its strength and warmth the only thing keeping the thin walls around Remus standing. He collapsed into Sirius’ arms, loud sobs racking his body as tears streamed down his face and soaked his robes. Sirius rubbed his back and whispered.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, c’mere, c’mon I’ve got you…”

Being in Sirius’ arms felt like he was drinking water for the first time ever. He still smelled like sandalwood and warm nights spent by the common room fire, his arms still encircled him like they were the safest shelter from storm.

He whimpered into his chest. “My- my mum, she’s-” the words stuck to his throat, resisting leaving their home from the past week. “She’s gone- she’s dead.”

Peter and James made quiet noises of surprise. Sirius held him closer, as if he could ward off all bad things by keeping them as close as possible.

“Oh, Moons. Why didn’t you tell us? You’ve been living this whole week like that?”

Remus choked through his sobs. “I was- I was afraid that if I told you guys it would be real. I wouldn’t be able to- ignore it anymore.”

“It’s okay, love. Look, we’re here now-- we’ll always be here for you. Always, baby.” Sirius said the words into his hair as his hands rubbed circles over his back. “You don’t have to be alone. You are never alone.”

Remus took a shuddering breath, all of their words clinging to his skin, keeping him warm. Sirius could piece him together, hands caring as he placed each fragment into place, holding them so they stayed. With each shuddering breath, he shook a little less, melting into warm arms.

“We will always remember her, Remus.” James promised.

Peter offered a soft smile. “She’ll live in our memories.”

Sirius whispered quietly, just for him. “You will always have her in here.” He tapped his head. “I will always be here to help you pull yourself back up, even if you feel like you can’t. It’s so, so hard. I know it is. But we will share some of the load.”

And in that moment, Remus knew it hurt now, it would always hurt, but each day, the press on his chest would lessen. The constant storm roaring between his ears would subdue, watering flowers and nourishing greenery.

He could do it.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #remus #remus x sirius #sirius black #hurt comfort #wolfstar fic #wolfstar angst #angst #remus x lupin fic #the marauders #james potter #peter pettigrew

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obxsummer · 4 years

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Heart of Gold // Hold On

word count: 3.1k

warnings: physical violence, cursing, blood, injuries

summary: there’s pain in your eyes with no escape in sight as you remain in the kook kingdom. the rescue mission begins and suddenly, it seems like agreeing to rafe’s terms are the only chance at living that you may have, especially when jj’s life is put on the line.

a/n: ooh i love some nice angst, y’all already know

masterlist

series masterlist

Your head was pounding against your skull as you laid on the cold concrete floor where you had fallen. A concussion was most likely the cause from Rafe slamming you against the wall before leaving you to crumble to the ground with no assistance.

“We could be so powerful,” He complained as he paced the room in front of you. With a sigh, he crouched down to survey your bruised, sunken in face. “I’m sorry I have to do this to you. I don’t like seeing you in pain but you clearly don’t understand my point of view.”

You rolled your eyes and shifted out of his grip. “I understand it loud and clear, Rafe, but it’s not happening. Tossing me around and beating me doesn’t change the fact that I love JJ and that I’ll never be with you! I don’t know how Sarah hasn’t run from your psychotic family because I would’ve never looked back.”

You screamed as Rafe’s foot collided with your ankle, snapping the bones with pure force as he glared at you with enraged eyes. “You’re pathetic. Once Maybank sees how damaged you are, he won’t want to even look at you. It’s over, princess. Whether you think so or not, I won. They clearly don’t care. They haven’t looked for you once and nobody’s said a word about the beloved Princess Y/N missing from her kingdom. You’re nothing. They were probably looking for a way to get rid of you all along. I just did the dirty work for them.”

Tears were falling down your cheeks as you held your knees to your chest. Your hand shook above your ankle as immense pain filtered up and down the injured area. Chest heaving with sobs, you let your head fall against your knees.

It was so hard, so hard to hope and have faith that you would be out of Rafe’s reach sometime soon. Sarah had come back every so often to sneak you food and water as well as tell you what she was hearing from your brother, but none of it eased the aches in your body. You were so close to giving up and just agreeing so Rafe wouldn’t touch you again.

“Aww,” He faked sympathy as he kicked you again, sending you on your side as you winced from the pain of your bruises. “It’s a shame. I don’t have pity for you. Perhaps I could find some if you just agreed to my terms.”

The door slam shook you to your core as you curled into a ball as tight as you could. Ribs aching, head pounding, and all you could think about was if JJ would be okay without you.

The kingdom became a mess of plans once there was confirmation from John B of your whereabouts. The four remaining members of your group remained by each other’s sides as JJ was given the special task of going in amongst the raid and bringing you back. John B would be fighting by his side, the duo having trained together since the beginning of days. Pope and Kiara would be behind the scenes, but ready at a moment’s notice for when the boys returned, hopefully with you in hand.

“Okay, we’ll move in from this quadrant all together and then break off into smaller groups.” JJ’s finger pointed at the detailed map of Kook Kingdom that was broken down into sections. “The prince and I will move in through this path to where Princess Sarah will be awaiting our arrival. The main point is to defend and distract until we can get Princess Y/N back to safety. As soon as you see the signal, back out if possible. Don’t be afraid to call for backup and if deemed necessary, shoot to kill.”

Pope watched over his friend’s shoulder as he addressed the group of soldiers in front of him. JJ never failed to step up when it came to protecting any of his friends. Now that it was you on the line, he would stop at no end until you were in his arms, safe and sound. Pope’s chest was full of pride to know the boy in front of him.

“You have your orders,” JJ concluded as he looked at each person in front of him. “We have one shot at bringing her home. Let’s not fail. For the princess.”

“For the princess!” The group repeated his word before breaking off through the doors to prepare themselves for the battle ahead.

JJ let out a deep breath as he removed his hands from the table. Turning around, he came face to face with three important people in his life. Kiara, Pope, and John B wrapped the blond boy in a hug as he just let them hold him out of exhaustion.

“Almost there, J,” John B ruffled his friend’s hair in encouragement before they broke their embrace. “Come on, Mom and Dad want to see us before we leave.”

JJ’s heart was beating out of his chest as he walked down the hall beside his friends. He was anxious about what they were walking into. He just wanted to have you home, and he was itching to get inside and make sure you were okay.

“Kids,” Your mother greeted as the group stopped in front of her. She looked exhausted, having been tormented by her own thoughts of what went on behind closed doors as she waited for your return. John B walked into his mother’s open arms and hugged her tightly, knowing she needed the reassurance nobody could really give except you.

“I wish I could be on the field with you today, but it is for safety that I cannot,” King John addressed JJ mainly as he spoke, “Rest assured, I know each and every one of you will do your best to come back safely to me and Mariah with Y/N.”

Kiara nodded, her hand resting on Pope’s shoulder. “We will, sir. We promise.”

“Be careful,” Mariah kissed her son’s forehead before hugging him tightly. She did the same with Kiara and Pope before facing JJ. “Will the three of you step out so we can have a moment with JJ?”

The three teens gave their friend reassuring nudges and pats before exiting the throne room to wait for him outside. JJ looked at your parents with concern in his eyes. “Have I done something wrong?”

King John shook his head and placed a hand on the young boy’s shoulders. “Quite the opposite, JJ. We know of your relationship with our daughter. We have for a while now.”

“But, we promise we aren’t upset. She’s so much happier with you than we’ve ever seen her,” Mariah reassured when she saw his face falter with worry. “JJ, Y/N’s always loved you. From the first day you met I remember her running to me with the biggest smile telling me about her new friend that she found. You’ve always been there for each other, now is no different.”

“I-I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.” JJ felt stupid in the moment for being unable to find words. He was here, learning that your parents knew every inch of your sneaking around, yet they were so kind and accepting of it that he was confused.

Mariah pulled him into a bone crushing hug, feeling him relax into her grasp from pure relief. She truly loved the boy, he was so good hearted. It was like he had a heart of gold, she swore at times. “It’s okay. We know you’ll save her, JJ. You always do.”

So, JJ Maybank stood there in the embrace of the King and Queen with his heart and his mind set on bringing you back to your kingdom and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Black spots danced across your vision as Topper yanked you to your feet. You stumbled and crashed into him with a whimper, your body failing to hold you up as you blindly tried to follow him.

“Ridiculous,” The guard mumbled as he continued to drag you from the room you had been kept in. Your eyes were wide in disbelief as you realized this was it. Rafe was going to kill you, and he was going to make sure everyone knew.

The Cameron Palace passed in a blur as Topper pulled you along towards where you assumed the throne room was. Shouting became evident to your ears along with the firing of weapons as you entered a long hallway.

“What’s happening?” You choked out as you attempted to look out the windows. “Topper, what’s going on?”

There was no answer as the young guard shoved you forward through the large double doors into the throne room. You tripped over your own feet and landed in a heap at the end of the stairs amongst the five chairs on the elevated stone. To your shock, King Ward wasn’t in the seat and it was instead occupied by Rafe who was smirking down at you.

“Finally!” He shouted, his voice echoing through the empty room as he stood and approached you. “I’m glad you could make it, really.” Rafe pulled you from the ground, his arm curling around you in a chokehold as he dragged you towards the window. You swore your feet weren’t even touching the ground as he moved while you writhed in his grip. Wounds were reopening at his rough actions, sending blood over your stained clothes and his pristine dress shirt.

Rafe’s fingers curled into your jaw as he forced you to look out of the glass. “Look at it. Your kingdom thinks it has a chance at beating mine to get you back. It’s comical, really.”

You whimpered at the strain on your sore body but you still had the energy to argue back. “Doesn’t look like they’re losing, does it?” You hissed as you watched your red and white uniformed troops take over the blue and white ones. “I know it’s hard to lose, Rafe, but I’m glad I’m here for your first time.”

“Everything isn’t as it seems, princess,” He sneered as his grip tightened on you. He moved back to where the large pillars stood next to the throne platform. Your back collided with the marble surface as Rafe yanked your arms back behind you. You screamed in pain as you felt a pop in your shoulder, the joint dislocated with the force of his actions. Harsh rope wrapped around your wrists, leaving you pinned in the awkward position as the prince stepped away.

The evil glint in his eye was evident as he stood in front of you, a devilish smirk on his lips as he observed your broken form. Stepping forward, he pressed a harsh kiss to your lips as you protested beneath him before he pulled away. “Contrary to your belief, my plan is just starting.”

Beneath the castle floors, John B and JJ were scrambling after Sarah Cameron who was leading them through the secret tunnels. Water splashed on their ankles as they finally climbed up the stairs that led them into the main dungeons.

“Come on. She should be here.” Sarah rounded a corner where a singular door was at the end of the hallway. JJ rushed forward, his anxiety getting the best of him as he threw the door open only to come upon an empty room.

“They moved her,” He huffed as the other two stood in the doorway. “Where would he go?”

“Throne Room!” Sarah snapped her fingers in recognition. “My parents aren’t here, they took Wheezie to the beach for the week. He would go there to watch the battle from up high.”

JJ squeezed the necklace in his pocket tighter as he followed the blonde out of the room and through the palace. His heart threatened to burst from his chest with adrenaline as they raced to get to you.

“Right on cue,” Rafe mumbled seconds before the room doors were thrown open to reveal JJ, Sarah, and John B. Your eyes were on the blond boy’s in seconds as you started crying in relief. They were here. They found you.

“Y/N!” Your brother shouted as the three of them moved towards you.

You shook your head desperately as you tried to get them to stop. “Behind you!”

Rafe had relocated around the edge of the room, both he and Topper jumping on JJ and John B and tackling the two boys to the floor. You and Sarah screamed in protest as you watched the two boys fight to free themselves.

“John B!” It was your turn to scream your brother’s name as he fell to the floor unconscious from the force of Topper’s hit. Sarah was by his side in seconds, cursing out the blond guard she used to trust as she cradled the brunette boy in her arms.

Rafe and Topper managed to get JJ on the floor as you cried and shouted for them to stop, all hope of freedom slowly leaving your body as you watched the blond struggle to get loose.

Rafe stepped away once his friend had gotten a decent grip on JJ. He turned to you and shook his head. “I told you, Y/N, you had a choice. I’m really sorry that JJ’s life has to end this way, with you watching.”

“No!” Your throat was raw from the scream you released as you shook your head. “Please. Rafe, please. You can’t do this.”

“I’m not completely heartless, though, princess. I’ll at least let you say goodbye.” He tapped your cheek lightly before releasing your hands, letting you go.

You didn’t hesitate to sprint across the throne room to where Topper let JJ go for a moment. JJ was ready for the impact of you hitting his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, cradling you in his lap as the two of you cried.

“You’re okay,” JJ whispered as he kissed your forehead before your lips. “You’re okay. I’m so sorry, baby.”

You shook your head, holding onto him as tight as possible with your left arm as your right one rested between the two of you from the pain in your shoulder. “You actually came.”

JJ held your head against his chest as he trembled. “I’ll always save you, Y/N.”

“Aw, how touching. Too bad I have to cut this cute reunion short.”

JJ shouted as Topper regained his grip on the smaller boy, yanking him to his feet as you sobbed on the ground. You turned to face Rafe, face full of tears as you saw him grab the sharp sword on his side.

“No!” You begged as you got to your feet. “Rafe stop!”

“Move, Y/N. I won’t hesitate to make you,” The prince growled as he approached, sarcastically brushing off the gleaming metal as if it had dust on it. “This pathetic being is the only thing standing between us and marriage, do you get that?”

You walked closer to him as JJ struggled in Topper’s grip. Your throat was tight as you fought to breathe and push air into your lungs, but you closed the gap between you and Rafe slowly. “I’ll go with you,” You agreed as you came to a stop. “You let JJ and John B go, and I’ll stay.”

“Y/N, no!” JJ’s face was red as he cried, his teary eyes never leaving your bruised form. “I’m not letting you do this.”

You ignored his plea as you set your hand on Rafe’s arm. “Tell Topper to let him go. They need time to leave the palace, and then I’m yours, okay?”

Rafe was clearly considering the offer on hand. This was a win-win. He didn’t have to clean his sword and he got the girl of his dreams all at the same time. “You double crossing me?”

You shook your head as he lowered his sword slightly. “I promise,” You vowed, your voice betraying you as it cracked amongst your emotions. “Let him go.” Rafe’s eyes watched yours as you turned to glance behind you. He waited to see if you would crack, if anything would reveal your true motive against your words. When he realized you were telling the truth, he motioned for Topper to let JJ go.

The next thirty seconds felt like hours. JJ knocked Topper down in seconds as he pulled his own weapon and ran headfirst towards Rafe. You spun at the commotion and panicked once you realized what was happening. Rafe reacted similarly as he grabbed his own weapon for attack.

Your legs moved before your brain processed as you jumped in front of JJ and shoved him away from the injury that would no doubt end his life. You hit the ground next, a groan leaving your lips from the impact. There was more screaming and shouting, the clanging of metal, and worried cries as you tried to keep your mind moving.

JJ’s crystal eyes appeared above yours, Sarah’s above him as you blinked. Your ears were ringing with noise as you tried to understand what was going on. JJ’s hands were red when he pulled away for a moment, making you confused as to who was bleeding. He was crying, Sarah too, as they both stared down at you, the blonde girl’s mouth moving but you couldn’t hear her words. You moved your good arm to rest your hands on top of JJ’s that were pushed against your chest, catching his attention. He shook his head, his tears falling against your cheeks as you mustered up a smile.

“I love you,” You whispered.

JJ shook his head desperately as he tried to stop the bleeding from your wound. He was shaking, his whole body freaking out as Sarah screamed for help, for anybody. His eyes never left yours though. He wanted you to know he was here, that he wasn’t leaving. Blood seeped through his fingers from the impact of Rafe’s sword as you protected him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to save you, not be the reason you were bleeding out beneath him.

The world slowed down, your eyes growing heavy as you fought to stay awake. JJ watched, unable to look away as your eyes slowly closed and your hand went limp against him. Now, he knew. Now, JJ knew what it was like to have the world ripped away from you without any warning, and he sobbed with the realization that he didn’t know if he would ever get the chance to return those three words to you in this lifetime.

tags: @dpaccione @socialwriter @mimi-multifandomxo @hmsjiara @rudths @bubblyglimmer

want to be tagged in the next part? let me know here

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solitaria-fantasma · 3 years

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((No-one asked but I’m gonna info-dump about these characters anyway so bUCKLE UP!

I’ll put it under a cut to save the dash tho.))

Michael

Yes, I’ve used his name and face before - sometimes you love a character so much you’ve just gotta recycle them don’t judge me.

He’s a human whose memories were magically stolen from him as a form of torture, and he is cursed with immortality, but only in the form of when he dies, his body is magically broken down and reformed into a new one.

The curse drains literally all his mana, so he’s basically unconscious for 2-3 days each time it happens, and his body always reforms within a radius of the area the curse was first cast in (that being, a locked cage in a now-abandoned fortress halfway across the kingdom, whose grounds he was once magically bound to with runes carved into his skin).

One of the people who first rescued him - a dragon cleric named Velenna - made it her mission to break his curse (because she’s secretly the reason his tormentor was even able to curse him, WHOOPS), but has so far only been able to break the spell that bound him to the fortress grounds.

Michael now lives in Velenna’s basement, and is basically her son.

He works as a part-time server/baker for a local tavern, and is just happy to have a somewhat normal life now.

He is a powerful magic user, but has no contextual knowledge of his spells (he knows them, but can’t remember how or why he knows them).

Is he a bard? Is he a warlock with a missing patron? Nobody knows!

He sings nice and plays the fiddle real good, and has been seen to channel his magic through that, so that’s one point for ‘bard’.

There is a clearly otherworldly tinge to some of his stronger spells, however, so that’s also one point for ‘warlock’.

Can you tell where I’ve put most of my character development budget so far?

He knows that Vashael is a prince, but hasn’t said anything yet.

Vashael

He is a dragon, and a ‘runaway’ prince on the hunt for adventure and also his soulmate.

He isn’t actually a runaway. His parents know exactly what he’s doing, and as long as he returns home now and again, they don’t mind.

He has two siblings - Kemat and Maji - who are the Crown Prince and Princess, respectively, and who handle most of the royal duties outside of their mother’s own.

He first met Michael in a tavern and defended him from a shady patron that was getting violent. As thanks, Michael gave him free (homemade) cake, and Vashael’s friends had to talk him out of asking for a date right then.

Vashael asked for one the next day, anyway.

The relationship between Vashael and Michael is the storybook love-at-first-sight-with-no-strings-attached that I myself want to read so shush.

Vashael is capable of slinging a few spells, but only defensive ones that might allow him to get in closer to his enemy to strike with his sword or fiery breath.

He had a difficult time learning those spells (and does not consider himself ‘studious’ by any means), and has an immense amount of awe and respect for anyone who can cast magic.

He can transform between a human form and his dragon form at will, but doing so takes a lot of energy, so he tends not to use it in combat unless absolutely necessary.

He hasn’t told Michael about his royal heritage, and is a little nervous to.

Naoka

She is a half-elf, half-human cleric who was born to noble parents in the capitol city, and grew up in the shadow of the palace.

Growing up in the heart of the capitol, Naoka recognized Vashael for the prince he was the moment they met, despite his attempts to pass as ‘just your average adventurer’.

She will die before she admits that she cheated in the drinking contest that earned her that first dinner with her now-wife, Haaruma.

She comes across as a kind and gentle soul, which makes it all the more startling when she effortlessly crushes the skull of an enemy.

Naoka was skeptical of Vashael’s sudden lovesickness, and briefly suspected Michael of charming him; however, after getting to know him, she came to change her mind, and realize that Vashael’s behavior was just a side of him she hadn’t seen.

She had to talk Vashael out of asking for a date on the first night, and had to get Haaruma and Bashur to back her up.

Vashael asked anyway, to her chagrin.

When she’s in town, she’ll often go out picking ingredients with Michael - him for his recipes, and her for her potions.

Haaruma

She is a lizardfolk mercenary who never lost a drinking contest until she met her wife (and then again, several years later, when she met Vashael).

She her tongue is often faster than her brain, and those who don’t know her would call her blunt - those who do know her would call her tactless, but usually not malicious.

Despite only knowing each other for a couple of months, she and Michael get along like a house on fire, and when the party is in town, Haaruma knows that she can count on Michael to team up with her for a little harmless fun.

No-one was more excited than Haaruma when the decision was made to ask Michael along for the first time.

She is terrible at keeping secrets; when she discovered that Vashael and Michael were dating on the down-low, Michael had to swear her to secrecy under threat of being turned into a rabbit for a week.

She doesn’t know that Michael can’t actually turn her into a rabbit, but it all worked out in the end.

Bashur

I couldn’t find a minotaur head like I could a cobra head so just pretend that the mask is good enough pls thank.

He’s a retired minotaur war hero who more prefers books and research to blood and glory these days.

He may or may not have been asked by the Queen to ‘keep an eye’ on her adventurous youngest son.

First meetings aside, Bashur genuinely enjoys the companionship he’s found with the group.

Whether he likes it or not, he is the Team Dad.

He and Michael both enjoy baking, and Bashur is more than happy to talk recipes and experiments with him when he’s in town.

Bashur isn’t a native to the kingdom, but the last monarch he swore fealty to was its Queen, so he basically lives there now.

He always talks fondly about things from his homeland - the music, the food, etc. - but he never talks about the people, or his family.

Haaruma suspects that he did something to get banished, but Naoka has convinced her not to ask.

Michael did ask, and Bashur told him the truth. Michael decided not to tell anyone else.

#OOC #Quarantine D&D #((technically NOT a part of the campaign that started the tag))#((but I want to be able to find this easily in six months))#((so under the tag it goes))

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inmyownlittlecorner5 · 3 years

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Lily’s Eyes

an AU one-shot by la-topolina rated for Teen audiences Summary: Severus knew that taking in four-year-old Harry Potter would be a trial. But he hadn't realized how much the child's green eyes would haunt him. Alternate Universe--Canon Divergence

<< a rock and a hard place+

Severus Snape was elbow deep in a wrestling match with the spiny arms of his choking-berry bush, struggling to bring in what he could of the late summer harvest. It was a wretchedly hot day, much better suited to being indoors in the cool of the basement with a book. Unfortunately, he was due back at Hogwarts in less than a week, and whatever he left on the stem or vine would be consigned to wither and die. Some of this was necessary—a careful selection of the plants would go to seed to provide the starter for next year’s garden—but his potions stores were greedy for the fruit of his summer labours. It galled him to let them go to waste.

The way that Harry Potter had been trailing after him like a shadow galled him too. The boy was currently digging in an empty patch of dirt with a stick, and watching Severus with wide eyes that seemed too large for his wan face. Those green eyes had been watching him unceasingly, and every time Severus met their wary, curious gaze, his stomach turned. Their likeness to his fallen friend (betrayed friend—and you betrayed her) was unmistakeable. It made his skin crawl.

Sweat was stinging his eyes, and his shirt was sticking to him unpleasantly as he wrenched the last of the berries from their branches. He added them to the neat row that was drying in the sun, and sat back on his heels to catch his breath. Harry continued to dig and to stare, until Severus felt compelled to say something to diffuse a silence that seemed censorious to his guilty soul.

“It’s…er…dreadfully hot, isn’t it Harry?” he said. Brilliant. Just what he wanted to be doing—making small talk with a four-year-old.

Harry blinked back at him curiously, but said nothing. Severus turned away to start on the witch’s weed, but he could feel that infernal stare boring into the back of his neck. He threw down his sheers, unable to stand another moment alone with Lily’s child. He stalked to the faucet, flipped it on, and splashed the cold water on his face. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d rescued the child from the Dursleys’ inhospitable house, and he was already nearing the end of his patience. Washing away the sweat of the afternoon did make him feel slightly more human and less haunted. He glanced over his shoulder at his charge, and decided that a change of scene might do both of them some good. “Come, Harry. Wash your hands and we’ll go for a walk.”

******

The Cokeworth Library sat near enough to the finer streets of haughty, neighboring Coldfield that, like Moses, she could see the Promised Land, but never enter it. A former owner of the Mill that had employed most of Cokeworth until recent years had donated his townhouse to create the library in a fit of deathbed generosity. Whether or not his alms had done anything to save his soul from Dives’ fate, he had created one of the havens that had allowed Severus to make it through his childhood alive. He’d spent many hours in the faded building, reading and rereading the modest collection of books until closing time would force Mrs Stark to send him home. This same woman, gray-haired now, greeted him as he and Harry passed her circulation desk in the parlor.

“Professor Snape! It’s so nice to see you,” she said brightly. “And who is this young man you’ve brought with you today?”

Severus had the strong urge to tug nervously at his sleeve, but Harry refused to let go of his hand.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Stark,” he replied. “This is my…er…ward, Harry Potter. Lily Evans’ son.”

Mrs Stark’s expression softened, and her eyes grew bright behind her wire-rimmed spectacles.

“You’ve had a busy summer, haven’t you professor?”

“Indeed.”

The librarian got up from her desk and extended her hand to Harry. The boy studied her as he hesitantly let go of Severus to take it.

“Hello, Master Harry,” she said. “My name is Mrs Stark, and I knew your mother. She used to come here every Saturday afternoon when she was a child. Would you like me to show you some of her favorite books?”

Severus held his breath as he waited for Harry’s response. Merlin help him if the child spooked and started to cry.

“Yes, please,” Harry said at last.

The children’s section was still nestled in what once had been a bedroom on the first floor. The bright paint on the walls and the colorful rag rug were both somewhat dingy, and the books on the shelves were worn, but from love rather than abuse. The windows looked out over a garden blooming with sunflowers and gladioli, and the little table with the trains was right in the far corner where Severus remembered it. Harry gasped at the sight, and ran for the table. Soon he was engrossed in lining up the train cars and pushing them over the tracks.

“I suppose I ought to get some toys for the boy,” Severus mused wryly.

“My girl Janet left a box of her toys in our attic,” Mrs Stark said as she stooped to pull a selection of books from the shelves and stack them on the rug. “I could send them over tomorrow if you think he’d like them. They’re simple things, blocks and balls mostly. But I think there’s a little train set in there too.”

He felt his ears growing hot at the unexpected generosity. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? It would be a help to me. She says she doesn’t want them, and I’ve been meaning to get rid of them for years.”

He had the distinct feeling that she was not going to capitulate. “I…suppose. If it would be a help.”

“Thank you. It would.” She put a final book on the stack and pushed herself up from the floor. “Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Enjoy the trains, Harry.”

Harry made a sound like a steam whistle in response, and Mrs Stark laughed as she went out of the room. Severus leaned against the window frame, looking out at the garden and watching Harry in the reflection of the glass. As the boy played, Severus’s mind began to wander down dangerous memories involving green eyes, red hair, and hateful words. He firmly set it to the task of cataloguing the rest of his garden for harvest or seed.

Eventually Harry tired of the train table, and he plopped down on the rug by the stack of books. He went through them carefully, turning the pages and running his little fingers over the pictures. When he came to one featuring a rabbit in a blue coat, he looked up with entreating eyes. Severus had to restrain himself from flinching.

“What is it, Harry?” he asked.

“Please read?” Harry replied.

“Ah.” Severus took the book and reluctantly sat down on the floor next to Harry. “I suppose that is the purpose of the library.”

No sooner had Severus finished one book featuring anthropomorphic animals then Harry would hand him the next. The sun beat in through the window as it dipped lower in the sky, making Severus’s back uncomfortably hot. Harry sagged against his arm, his eyelids drooping, until he fell asleep in the middle of The Tailor of Gloucester. Severus quietly scooted the boy into a more comfortable position on the rug. Then he picked through the stack of books, selecting the ones he was willing to carry home. It would mean an extra trip to the library to return them, but he had to admit (however grudgingly) that it had been short-sighted of him to neglect to provide for the child’s entertainment. When he’d finished, he gathered the books under one arm, and scooped up Harry with the other, awkwardly managing his load as he went downstairs to the circulation desk in the parlor.

“Here, let me get those for you,” Mrs Stark said, meeting him in the doorway. “Nodded off, did he?”

“He did, thank you,” Severus replied.

She briskly stamped and recorded the books before putting them into a paper sack with handles for him.

“There was a time or two when you used to fall asleep up in that room,” she said.

“It’s a comfortable rug,” he allowed, picking up the sack. “Thank you Mrs Stark.”

“You’re welcome. It was so good to see you. And to meet Harry.” She rose from the desk to open the door for him. “He has Lily’s eyes, doesn’t he?”

Severus grimaced. “So he does. Good evening, Mrs Stark.”

The trek home was even hotter than the trek to the library had been. His burden of the still sleeping Harry and the sack of picture books seemed unbearably heavy. Severus hated the oppressive heat as afternoon faded into evening even more than the blazing heat of midday. It crushed the lungs and sapped the strength, and by the time Severus arrived back at Spinner’s End, he was completely exhausted.

He laid Harry on the sofa and collapsed into the armchair, too hot to move. The threadbare curtains were drawn against the summer sun, darkening the shabby sitting room. Severus’s eyes drifted closed, and he hovered between sleep and wakefulness. His lucid dreams were a disturbing brew of his tumultuous school days, ending with him slinking away from Gryffindor tower, Lily’s furious glare searing into the back of his skull. When he started awake, he saw these same eyes blinking at him sleepily from Harry’s face.

The boy was sitting on the sofa, ever watchful in the shadowy twilight. Severus waved his hand to light the candles in the room, and returned the boy’s stare until he could stand it no longer. He pulled the stack of books from the bag that Mrs Stark had given him and set them on the sofa next to the child.

“You can read these while I make tea,” he said in a stern tone.

“Can’t read,” Harry observed.

Severus forced himself to take a deep breath before answering. “Then look at the pictures.”

He stalked out of the room before the boy could object. The kitchen was infernally hot, and only the knowledge that Minerva would have his head if he neglected to feed the boy three meals a day made him go into it. If it had been him alone, he would have happily spent the evening in his basement potions room and skipped eating altogether. But he wasn’t alone, and even he had to admit that the boy was far too small.

The leftover roast beef and cheddar in the icebox and the rye bread he’d baked that morning, along with plums from the garden would do for them. He quickly assembled the sandwiches, washed the fruit, and was in the act of setting it all on the table when Harry came into the kitchen.

“I’m thirsty,” Harry said.

Severus poured the child a glass of cider from the icebox and held it out to him. “Here. Come eat, and then I will read to you.”

Harry sipped the cider cautiously. “Mmm, apple juice!”

“Apple cider, Harry. But, lacking the alcohol, I suppose it is little more than spiced apple juice.”

“Apple cider. I like it.”

Harry climbed onto the chair across from Severus and promptly took apart his sandwich, eating each piece of it separately. As he ate, he kept up a near constant narrative, during which he retold the events of the afternoon ad infinitum. Severus mostly ignored him, letting the child prattle on undisturbed. After tea, he cleaned the dishes with a quick succession of wand flicks, which Harry (of course) watched with his unnerving eyes.

When they left the kitchen, Harry disappeared into his bedroom. Severus took advantage of the momentary reprieve and continued to the sitting room. He’d just settled himself on the sofa with the least obnoxious of the picture books close at hand when Harry returned. The boy walked up to Severus and dropped a photograph onto his lap.

“It’s me and Mummy and Daddy,” Harry said proudly.

Severus picked up the picture as though it were a venomous snake. Lily was holding a smaller Harry, beaming up at the camera while James mussed the boy’s already thick hair.

“I see,” Severus said, quickly setting the photograph upside down on the coffee table so that he would not have to look at it.

“Auntie Tuney hid the picture too,” Harry said. “She said it would get torn. But I miss looking at Mummy and Daddy.”

Being compared to Petunia Dursley was a humiliation that Severus did not intend to bear. He picked up the photograph and set it, face up, on the mantel next to the mortar and pestle his mentor had given him upon his attaining his potions mastery.

“Let’s keep it here for now,” he said. “When we go up to school, we’ll buy a frame for it in Hogsmeade. Then you can take it around with you without tearing it.”

They spent a quiet evening reading on the sofa, and Severus managed to keep his temper even as he slowly went mad from reading the same two picture books over and over to his tyrannical audience. Thankfully, the afternoon nap did not keep Harry from falling asleep at a decent hour. Severus was startled by how weary he felt after one day as the boy’s guardian, but he told himself the heat must be taking more of a toll on him than he’d thought.

He poured himself a glass of wine, and brought it into the sitting room. Lily, Harry, and James were waving at him from the photograph, and he went to the mantel to glare down at them. All in all, he wasn’t entirely certain that his taking Harry under his protection was one of Minerva’s better plans. But he’d agreed to it, and there was nothing else to be done now but see it through the best he could.

The Lily in the photograph was looking up at him, and mouthing something that looked suspiciously like a thank you. Harry was grinning at him from her arms, and even James was nodding to him with grudging acceptance. The urge to turn the photograph over filled him, but he extinguished the candles instead.

He raised his glass and drank deeply to the family he’d helped rend asunder. And though he knew their ghosts had crossed over long ago, he could feel their eyes watching him still.

*****

<< a rock and a hard place+

#pro snape #severus snape fanfiction #harry potter fandom #inmyownlittlecorner5

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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WARRIOR CLAN : 1 part : Science Fiction in the Lezon saga.

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Science Fiction

WARRIOR CLAN

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

4874 words

writing begun 2004

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Dramatis Personae:

Lezon Treh K’lass: Long time slave of Clan D’ancer. During the events of Lezon found to be the long missing M'cratt War Leader.

T’cass: one surviving sister wife of the Clan D’ancer triad. Injured as a result of happenings in Lezon

K’ress: the second surviving sister wife of the Clan D'ancer triad.

T’lass: youngest kit of Clan D’ancer.

K’sere: middle kit of Clan D’ancer.

T’cill: oldest kit of Clan D’ancer.

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Lezon sat alone in the control compartment of the small Clan starship, D’ancer. The tachyonic screens showed a rich system falling astern. M’rel was back there, murdered by a M’cratt Talon carrier, the Hand of Claws. All that the Talons’ disruptors had left of M’rel’s unarmed lighter was a cloud of vapor.

They had lost their other lighter to those same Talons but T’cass had successfully put down on the second planet before her lighter was hit and managed to escape the fate of her ship. Unfortunately the planet was a rocky giant and far too close to its blue giant star for long term safety.

Before the attack on M’rel made it necessary for Lezon to reveal her identity to the other members of the Clan, only T’cass knew that Lezon was the nearly legendary M’cratt War Leader, Lezon Treh K’lass, believed to have been lost from an assassination attempt in the battle at M’onafar. The regeneration of the nearly dead Lezon had produced a nearly impenetrable disguise.

In the engagement that followed the M’cratt attacks on their lighters, they were far out gunned. Lezon had succeeded in damaging the Talon carrier enough to make a running battle of it by hitting one of its returning Talons just at the big ship’s shield boundary.

Even in ships that outpace light itself, stars remain immense distances and long travel times apart. The running battle covered several light years. Lezon’s legendary cunning in combat finally succeeded in destroying the Hand of Claws along with an entire triple sun system. It took eight months to return for T’cass.

Now, two months after being picked up, T’cass was still in the MediBed. The reports from that expensive piece of hardware were encouraging. T’cass’ joints and back were regenerating nicely from her eight months in the crushing gravity of the planet where she was marooned.

Speaking of the rest of Clan D’ancer, Lezon keyed the in-ship screens and saw that the D’ancer Clan’s three kits were in the fabrication shop learning metal smithing and machine work along with an obvious lesson in composite plastics. K’ress, one of the kit’s two surviving biological mothers, was teaching the lesson. Lezon appreciated that. Mostly, teaching the kits what they needed to know was Lezon’s job. K’ress had taken up much of the work of the Clan’s slave. With one of the clan’s Triad in sickbay and the other dead, the D’ancer was seriously understaffed.

Lezon consulted her schedule and signaled to K’ress. “It is time for the kits to study their history lessons. Pick up with the treaty of 0947 Treaty Commission Standard. I’ll be down to take the lesson shortly.”

There were predictable cries of, “History! That’s dull!” and, “We want to stay in the shop!”

K’ress looked at the comm panel and echoed the kits. “Look, Lezon! They’ve almost got this pattern welded steel right, see?” She held a blank for a blade to the panel for Lezon to inspect. It wasn’t finished yet but a quick acid wipe brought out the pattern of stars worked into the swirls of the multitude of thin layers of forge welded steel that made up the blade.

With honest admiration, Lezon said, “You’re teaching them very well, K’ress. I could not do better. Another hour, then. It will have to be made up, though.”

K’sere looked up from her screen of history lessons and saw Lezon lounged carelessly by her own console, working on some sort of mathematical problem. K’sere knew that appearances were deceiving. Lezon was working on her problem, no doubt, but she was also alert to everything happening aboard the D’ancer. A little screen split showed the ship condition at all times and, K’sere was aware, Lezon had already noticed that she was looking away from her screen.

She asked cautiously, “Lezon, why do the M’cratt always break their treaties?”

That brought an instant reaction from her M’cratt teacher. Lezon locked her green eyes on K’sere and her pupils narrowed to almost invisible vertical slits. In a totally level tone she stated, “I was not aware that the M’cratt have ever broken a single treaty. Please support your assertion. Snack points if you can.”

Having known her teacher all of her life, K’sere was suddenly far less sure of herself. She forged ahead, now certain that some sort of unexpected thing lurked in what seemed so obvious to her. Where Lezon was involved, the unforeseen was the norm.

“Right here, it says that the M’cratt signed a peace treaty after the War of T.C. 0947 and then made the opening attack of the next war in T.C. 0986.”

Lezon nodded briskly in agreement. The other two kits of Clan D’ancer were watching with interest. History might often be dull but having it taught by one of the true living legends of the last War tended to make things more than a bit interesting at times. It was only recently, since the battle with the Hand of Claws, that they had learned who Lezon really was. She had been a unique War Leader even among the Warriors of the M’cratt. Besides, T’cill and T’lass weren’t the ones having to watch out for their snack points.

Lezon seriously asked, “So, in what particular was the treaty broken? What did the Treaty Commission do about it? If the treaty were broken by the M’cratt, they would have intervened on the side of the Clan. Did they?”

K’sere could see her snack points retreating in disarray, even if she could not yet see the cause of the stampede. “The Treaty Commission didn’t do anything! There was a War!”

“And?” Lezon interposed, “Why did the Treaty Commission do nothing?”

Almost contemptuously, K’sere spouted the common excuse, “Because the T.C. doesn’t interfere in wars. They just protect habitable planets from illegal attacks!”

Lezon frowned, laying her ears so flat to her skull that they were almost hidden in her mane. “K’sere! I know that you have studied the Treaty Commission Charter! They are required to stop treaty violations! Who was it that they stopped?” Lezon purred, “Clan or M’cratt?”

K’sere paged through her information, using all the search keys that she could think of. Perplexed, she looked up and saw her teacher’s tail twitching in amusement. “It doesn’t say.”

Sardonically amused, whiskered lip pulled slightly up from her right fang, Lezon said, “I know. This is a Clan written history prepared for the young by Clan historians. I do need the permission of T’cass and K’ress both to go beyond it. They are the remaining two of your mothers and your Clan’s leaders.”

She keyed the console and spoke briefly to the surviving parents of her charges. In only moments, the little room got smaller. K’ress came in and sat with the kits. “I would like to hear your answer to K’sere’s question too, Lezon. Back before we got married, both you and T’cass did drill it into us that the M’cratt didn’t break the Treaty. I will help with part of the answer.” Thinking of M’rel’s death brought another tear. Would she ever stop mourning her triad wife?

K’ress turned in her seat to face her kits, wiping away the tear, and pointed her ears frankly forward as she said, “The T.C. interfered only three times during the last War. Each time, it was to save a M’cratt world from space-borne bombardment by biosphere destructive weapons.

“The last time, it was M’cratt itself, saved from complete destruction as a planet.” She hung her head in shame. “Our leaders were ready to bombard the Imperial Planet into an asteroid field. That is why there is a Treaty Commission. They stopped us from doing a great evil.

“I know that the M’cratt did not break the treaty. If they had broken the treaty, it would have violated the Warrior’s Way. That is something that they will not do. The Empress Triad ordered the executions of three M’cratt commanders WHO WON engagements because they violated the Warrior’s Way to do it.”

Little T’lass diplomatically put her claws into the discussion and batted it onto a new path. “Maybe we are asking the question the wrong way about. What did the M’cratt sign if it wasn’t a peace treaty?”

Lezon beamed. “Excellent logic, T’lass. Snack points! What did the Imperial Triad sign? Everybody get the treaty on screen in both Clan and M’cratt.” There was a small flurry of activity as screens flickered and keys clicked.

“Got it, Lezon,” a ragged chorus said.

“There it is!” said K’sere, pointing in triumph. “The title is, Treaty of Peace!”

Almost sadly, Lezon pointed out, “In Clan, it does say that. What does the M’cratt translation of the treaty say? Remember, that translation is the only version that was signed by the Imperial Triad.”

K’ress had already pulled up a M’cratt lexicon and was puzzling out the unfamiliar and therefore difficult characters. “It says, Treaty for a Time of No Conflict. Doesn’t that mean peace?”

“No,” said a mellow voice from the doorway. “You can’t say peace in M’cratt. The language doesn’t even have the concept. To say ‘no conflict’ is a contradiction in terms like ‘I can’t stand sitting.’ It negates itself.”

“Mommy T’cass!” the kits called out in excitement. “You’re up!”

“Only for an hour, children. The MediBed is most insistent that I return.” T’cass ruffled their ears and scratched juvenile manes. “Now get back to your desks and I will answer K’sere’s question.”

She seated herself at Lezon’s teaching desk and asked the room, “Does anybody in this room know where I was born?”

At the blank looks from the rest, Lezon replied, “Your mothers were ambassadors to M’cratt for Clan interests. I don’t know where you were born. Is it important?”

T’cass cocked her head at Lezon and said, “You must all decide that for yourselves. I was born on M’cratt, in the Imperial City. My mothers put me into K’lass’s School of All Conflict.”

Lezon interrupted to ask, “How is my old teacher? I have been unable to check, myself, due to remaining in concealment.”

T’cass smiled, showing many teeth, “She not only survived the war, the last that I checked, her school remains the most respected one in the Empire. I was just a kit but I did well and learned the Warrior’s Way along with all the others. By the time that I was half grown, I was translating for my Mothers. My story begins with that.

“Nobody was willing to listen to what I tried to tell them about the treaty that we had with the Empire. When I tried to tell other Embassy staff about the flaws in the treaty, I learned a hard lesson. Some of them had written and translated that treaty. They were not receptive to a juvenile saying that the highest point of their careers was a mistake. They got my mothers recalled and replaced by others less competent.

“The next few years were the most awful time in my life. It was spent as a young adult in Clan Space. I spoke Clan perfectly but had trouble understanding some parts of it. I had been raised as a Warrior and I was now in a place that hated war and failed entirely to understand the nature of conflict. Only Lezon can understand what that means.”

Lezon nodded understanding, saying, “Now I know why you were so patient with me at first. I wasn’t a very good slave back then.”

T’cass smiled softly and pointed her ears directly as she replied, “No, you weren’t. You still aren’t, for that matter, but this Clan would be far worse for not having you in it. You were, and still are, a Warrior. A Battle Friend. I needed someone around who actually understood me.

“The War changed everything. My training allowed me to predict the nature and location of the M’cratt attacks. I spoke perfect M’cratt and could interrogate prisoners. I was the best fighter pilot and tactician in all of Clan Space. I was promoted to the Tactical and Strategic Board.

“I remained unpopular. I was constantly telling off anybody who tried to say that the M’cratt had broken the treaty. It is not the fault of the M’cratt that the Clan’s translation failed to convey what they meant.

“K’ress, the lexicon that you just used to translate the treaty title is the same one the Clan translators used to make the treaty. It is worse than merely wrong, it is almost right. The correct reading of the title would be something like Treaty Governing the Time of Preparation for New Conflict.”

There was a soft hiss of indrawn breath all about the room as the kits and K’ress realized the implications of the mistake.

T’cass went on, “The M’cratt language is built around three fundamental states of conflict, each related to one of the Goddess’ Triad.

“There is preparation for Conflict, represented by Lezon, keeper of the Cave of Life. She prepares the souls of the dead to return to the Conflict of Life. She represents the memory of Conflict won or lost, as lessons to be learned. She is also the bridge from the past to the future.

“There is Conflict itself, in all of its forms. It is represented by Treh, Huntress of the Stars, whose battles bring Light to the world. She also represents Life itself. Life and Conflict are the same word. Conflict is inherent in the present as it is in all tenses.

The last state is death, usually but not precisely translated as the future tense. It is not freedom from Conflict. K’lass is the guide whose wisdom, if followed, leads the souls of the dead through difficult battles. They have to relive every conflict that they ever experienced and learn the best response to each one. Then K’lass leads the souls to Lezon in the Cave of Life. K’lass represents Wisdom in the Management of Conflict which is the source of all perfection.”

T’cill raised a hand. “I thought that Lezon lit candles to light the way of the dead to the Cave of Life,” she said earnestly.

Lezon smiled, “I tried to keep my explanation simple before. The candle is a beacon for K’lass. It assists her in finding the souls of the fallen. Once she finds them, she is their guide. Only she knows where the Cave of Life is.”

T’cass looked directly at Lezon and added, “You risked your life to give me a Warrior’s Return to Clan territory at the battle of K’stall when I ran out of firepower while we were dog-fighting. Someone with that sort of honor could never allow the treaty to be broken in the war she planned and was carrying out … the war that the Clans nearly lost.

“K’sere’s question must be stated as T’lass did it. How could the treaty be kept and still allow a war? Now, you know. It was our own translation error. The Combined Clans only thought that it was a peace treaty.”

Lezon smiled and the world was full of friendly teeth. “When I planned that war, the terms of the treaty were kept carefully. The honor of the Empire and the Imperial Triad were at stake. The war was only possible because it was not a peace treaty. Neither is the current one, by the way. The Clan translators have made the same errors all over again.

“The Treaty Commission does know the correct reading of the treaty and that is why they did not intervene. Their job is strictly limited by their Charter. They can not assist in the making of treaties. They only enforce the treaties that others have made and protect habitable planets from illegal, biosphere destructive attacks.”

“T’cass, when I fought you at K’stall, I met and tested a Warrior. The Warrior’s Way required that I give you the Return. That placed you under an Obligation of Conflict. You balanced the Obligation when you saved my life after M’onafar.”

All of the D’ancer’s Clan listened intently. This was about the foundation of their family, not just history. T’lass asked, “Can you tell us why nobody knew who you were? I know that they searched for some proof besides your wrecked Talon that you died at M’onafar. We’ve all read about that.”

It was T’cass who answered. “Nobody else knew who she was because I knew who she was. This was before I met M’rel and you, K’ress. I had never found anybody who understood me and was willing to accept me. I didn’t know that it was possible for anyone from the Clans to love me.

“Besides the Obligations of the Warrior’s Way, I had my own reason. She was a Battle Friend and wounded seriously. She needed to be shielded from her enemies. They were not only in the Clans. In fact, Lezon was safer with me, among the Clans, than among her own.”

T’cass paused and clicked up a picture that was now famous. It was Lezon’s battle damaged Talon fighter. She rotated the image to show the damaged driver array. “What I am telling you now has been a secret kept between me and Lezon. I shot up the drivers and the life system myself, after I took Lezon out of the wreck.”

Using a pointer, T’cass indicated a section. “Look closely at this area,” she directed.

K’sere wrinkled her brow as she looked at the picture under high magnification. She stated, “That looks like a M’cratt disruptor hit.”

Lezon said quietly, “It is. My Talon was hit from behind by a low powered attack when my vector would carry me away from the M’cratt battle formation. It destroyed the superconducting cables to my drive, wounded me slightly and caused some other damage. Even injured and losing air, I almost got my Talon back home.

“I was only about three inches of superconducting cable short of getting power up. I tried to bridge the gap with copper. It almost worked. The saturation blast from the failure of the superconducting drive circuit is what nearly killed me.”

Puzzled, T’cill, oldest of the kits, asked, “Why did they try to assassinate you? You were winning the war for them.”

Dryly, Lezon answered, “Precisely. And the only reason that the admirals and other leaders took directions from a mere combat pilot was that the Empress Triad ordered them to. The youngest wife of the Empress Triad, S'tand, just happened to go to K’lass’ School of All Conflict at the same time that I did. The Imperial Triad knew that every conflict that I planned or participated in at the School of All Conflict came out the way that I wanted it to.”

T’cill’s snout wrinkled skeptically along one side. “Why were you a fighter pilot then? Why weren’t you one of those admirals?”

T’cass picked that one up. “They couldn’t keep her from fighting. It’s a guiding principle of the Warrior’s Way. A Warrior must be allowed to fight. Those high officers took it poorly when the Empress Triad’s chosen War Leader refused their company and the safety of their positions aboard fortress ships. I think that they felt that it reflected on their courage.”

Lezon said dryly, “As a matter of fact, that was pointed out to them by the Empress Triad in person. It may have had something to do with the assassination attempt.”

A gentle bonging began to sound. T’cass wrinkled her snout at her kits affectionately and said, “Now you know how the M’cratt see those issues that the Clans think of as treaty violations. In fact, the only ones who have violated the treaties are the Clans. They are also the ones who bungled the translations.

“Now, the MediBed is calling and I do have to go. Be as good as you can be and still be the D’ancer’s kits.” She reached over and ruffled juvenile manes, then raised her claws in farewell and left the room. In moments, the bonging ceased.

Lezon turned to the kits and asked, “Does everybody understand the situation that K’sere brought up?”

They all made noises of agreement.

“Enough to take a test on the subject?” Lezon asked looking aslant at them. The agreement was complete but nowhere near as enthusiastic.

Suddenly, Lezon’s tail twitched and her ears shot up jauntily, “Good, because we’re not going to put that test on the computer for the Educational Combine to find! T’lass, for your suggestion, Snack Points! K’sere, for bringing up the topic, Snack Points, after all!

“Let’s go to the galley and get lunch!” Lezon said cheerfully. “Will you kits kill T’cass’ lunch and take it to her? The MediBed will allow her real food now but she still can’t pounce her own.”

A delighted tumble of kits charged out of the compartment. Lezon shook her head in wonderment. Smiling she said, “Kits! Such simple things can make them so happy.”

K’ress smiled fondly after her Clan’s progeny and agreed, “I wish that life was that simple for us.”

Suddenly serious, she said, “I fear that it may get complicated for us all over again, Lezon. I tried to discuss this matter once before. We … were interrupted. It is about manumission. T’cass and I both want to free you. The kits do too. In fact, what we need to ask was first proposed by them.

“Our problem is simply this. We want to ask something of you and by Clan law, the question can only be asked of a free person.”

Lezon was actually afraid. For one who followed the Way of the Warrior there was only one way to deal with fear. It had to be faced. Voice shaking, she replied, “Then let me have you all there and do as you feel you must.” Bleakly, she added, “I did tell you, there is no place for me, if I am freed. Where will I go?”

Sympathetically, K’ress laid her hand on Lezon’s arm said gently, “Come up to T’cass’ bedside and take your freedom from her claws. You know that she wishes you no ill. I hope that you will trust the rest of us, too.”

Bracing herself, Lezon nodded, saying, “I will have to.”

They came in just in time to hear the kits say with pride, “We checked the MediBed computer and chose one exactly the right size for you!” K’sere reached into the serving cage and neatly caught and killed the snack, giving the still quivering creature to her birth Mother.

Smiling in delight, T’cass accepted it and bit into her lunch. Chewing and swallowing, she said, “Thank you, children. I love you all. It was loving you that kept me going while I was stranded.”

Looking past the kits to the door, she said, “I see that it is time for something else. Is everything ready?”

“It sure is!” T’cill exclaimed, practically hopping in excitement. “We finished it just in time, too! Can I go get it?”

“Please,” requested T’cass. “I think that we will have a good use for the things that you made. I also need you to stop by my cabin and get me the item from the locked cabinet as well.”

T’cill fairly flew out of the compartment. Shortly the kit returned with a long bulky bundle and an object carefully wrapped in oiled silk. She carefully laid everything on the MediBed beside T’cass.

T’cass looked sympathetically at Lezon and said, “Lezon Treh K’lass, within this Clan you have never been a slave, no matter what the law might have said. I took your submission and refused the notion of surrender. The time has come to take care of the matter of Clan law. Please come here to my side.”

Lezon stepped up to the bedside of the only M’cratt Warrior that had ever been born of Clan parents and said, “Battle Friend, if you free me, where shall I go? The Clans will try me for the last War. The M’cratt have no place for me either. The new Treaty forbids me from my home if I am ever found. There is no place for me.”

T’cass smiled and replied, “Lezon, trust me in this. It is to discuss your place that it is necessary to free you. Take this from my hands. I saved it from your Talon to give it back to you some day. This is that day.”

She unwrapped the oiled silk and held out to Lezon a pattern welded steel knife. The unique pattern of this knife was perhaps the most famous in either Clan or M’cratt spaces. Against a fall of the finest maidenhair pattern, worked into the form of the Great M’cratt nebula, small star and eye shapes revealed the faces of the Triple Goddess. It was the Warrior’s knife made by Lezon Treh K’lass. T’cass held it out handle first, free of the plain M’cratt fast draw sheath.

T’cass intoned formally, “Lezon Treh K’lass, your service to the Clan D’ancer has been honorably acquitted. By returning your Knife, I arm you as a free Warrior. I hope that you will continue to fight by my side and that of my Clan. I can no longer compel you by either Clan law or M’cratt submission. Take back your Soul Knife and free choices.”

Lezon took the big blade and carefully strapped the sheath to her leg. Placing the knife flat on her palm she offered it to T’cass’ touch.

T’cass responded, “I cannot, in Warrior’s Honor, accept the gift of a favor yet. There is more to do and speak of first. The kits made these. I hope that you find them worthy for the rest of us to bear.” She held to Lezon the long package.

Unwrapped, it proved to be six ceremonial spears. Their blades were of elegantly worked pattern welded steel mounted on hafts of tough composite plastic inlaid with the signs of the Triple Goddess of the M’cratt. Lezon examined them each carefully, with the critical eye of a true expert. The kits held their breath until Lezon smiled.

“These are as well done as any spears that I have ever handled,” she pronounced. Knowing what was needed now, Lezon handed the first spear to T’cass, saying, “Battle Friend, accept this gift of arms and fight by my side.”

Solemnly T’cass nodded and took the weapon. In turn, K’ress, T’cill, K’sere, and T’lass took theirs. Lezon took the last spear and choked slightly as she stated, “As you will stand at my side, so shall I be at yours.” She turned to T’cass and added, “So this is my place? Here with you all? What of the Clans?”

K’ress smiled almost wickedly as she spoke. “They don’t need to know any more about you than they already do. Of course, if they even think about getting uppity, there’s a few practical details that they will need to consider.

“This vessel will fight for your safety and life. They will know that it has just destroyed a powerful M’cratt Talon Carrier single handed. As the cream on that snack, there’s the pesky detail that we also inadvertently destroyed a triple sun system while discharging the weapon that finished the Hand of Claws. Three stars splatted so hard that there is only one is left. Oops!”

“What of my knife?”

T’cass nodded, acknowledging a potential difficulty, and said, “I am known to possess that war souvenir. I have given it to you as a freely given gift after your help in saving our lives.”

Lezon accepted that and asked, “The Clans will believe that, even if no M’cratt would. Now, what was so important that you had to free me to ask it?”

Suddenly very serious, T’cass replied, “First, know that your place with us is secure no matter what your answer to our question. What we need to ask does go against the Warrior’s Way but you have done so already, in a way that gives us hope that you will accept our offer.”

K’ress moved over to where she could hold T’cass’s hand and each of them held out her free hand to Lezon. “Will you marry us, Lezon? Will you make our Clan triad whole and become a true mother to our kits? Please?”

Lezon looked carefully about her, at all of these people that she had known and served for so long. She could see the fear that she would reject them written plainly on the faces of the kits. She loved them. She already knew that. How to show it though? The Warrior’s Way had given her a lifetime of training in repressing such expressions.

Lezon smiled, swept her arms about the kits, gathering them together, and enclosed them in the grip that she gave to T’cass and K’ress. Holding all of them at once, Lezon said, “I would be honored. Knowing you has showed me that there is a truth that goes beyond the Warrior’s Way. It has also showed me that the truth of the Clans is not complete either. I think that we are about to create something new.”

Slightly dryly, T’cass snorted, “Life should be interesting around here from now on. I am glad that you accepted us, Lezon. We do love you. All of us. The D’ancer Clan is going to be a unique one, with two who were raised as M’cratt Warriors in it.”

“It will be strange indeed,” responded Lezon. “After all, how many Warrior Clans are there? Just this one, I think.”

–THE END–

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#WARRIOR CLAN #1 part #Science Fiction #Written by De Writer

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nxnoire · 5 years

Text

Desiderium

Don’t Let Them See You Cry

Part One Part Two Part Four

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

My third prompt for @badthingshappenbingo

———

Chat Noir had become a stray cat, roaming Paris trying to find a place to stay the night. It had been close to a half hour since he had barged out of his house. At first, he just needed to get out and make sense of the spinning thoughts in his head. Now that he had calmed down, he realized the danger of being out in the streets. The sun was slowly inching towards the horizon, nighttime coming soon to swallow the city in darkness. He wasn't safe out in the streets alone as a 15-year-old boy. His father—Hawkmoth could easily akumatize him, too. For once, he wished the demon wouldn't go looking for his lost son.

He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, trying to think of what to do. Marinette's house stood in front of him. He had considered Nino, but nobody was home. He'd crash with Alya, but she'd make a big deal out of it. All he needed was somebody who would help him without question. Marinette was the perfect person.

She sat on her rooftop balcony, sketching in her sketchbook. What would she think if he just waltzed in and asked her to shelter the superhero that was supposed to be a figure to look up to? Coming in as Adrien would be his best bet, but, still, it'd be like hitting a brick wall either way. How he would explain himself without giving his secret identity away, he had no idea.

There probably wasn't a good way to. All he'd be able to say is that his father was evil and he ran away. Basically, downplay the story until she was ready to hear the truth. Until he was ready. Truthfully, he didn't think he'd ever be ready to tell her, no matter how much it'd bug him.

He hopped off the roof and landed in an empty alley. Once he made sure nobody was around, he detransformed.

Plagg flew out of the ring and yawned, his yawn resembling a meow. "Did you find a place to stay yet?" He asked, expressing genuine concern for his owner.

"Yeah. We're gonna stay with Marinette for a while," he answered, beginning to head out of the alley.

Plagg didn't waste his time complaining. The kid needed to be with someone he knew. He needed someone that would understand him when he was ready to reveal his secrets. Someone that would save him and risk their own secret if necessary. He needed Ladybug, even if he didn't know it was her.

He hid in Adrien's pocket as they exited the safety of the alley. Adrien took a deep breath and crossed the street, walking closer and closer to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Inside the shop was Marinette's mother, her father probably making pastries behind her. He'd just walk in that way and tell them he was there to get make-up work, or something like that.

He opened the shop door, causing a bell to ring. Sabine put on her retail face and looked up, but shed the mask when she saw it was Adrien who walked in. "Hello, Adrien, are you here to see Marinette?" she asked warmly.

"Yeah, is she here? I need help with the work I missed today," he said with his best fake smile.

"She should be in her room."

"Thank you, ma'am." He smiled and walked towards the door. He waved to Tom, who waved back, flour covering his hands and apron.

Once he walked into the apartment, he shed his mask, a more comfortable frown laying on his face. Slowly, he made his way upstairs to Marinette's room. For some reason, he was nervous to be there. What was he supposed to say? Her friend just barges in unexpectedly asking to stay with her for an unknown period of time. Not exactly normal to say the least.

Marinette's room was void of her presence, as expected. He walked over to her ladder and climbed it, careful not to fall. Quietly, he poked his head out of the trap door and looked at the girl. She was unaware of his presence, her concentration deep in her newest design.

"Marinette?" He called softly.

Marinette threw her sketchbook, shot up and turned around. "A-Adrien?!" She looked at him, flustered. "I thought you were kisk–I mean sick!"

He shook his head. "It's a long story..."

She noticed whatever it was seemed to be bothering him. "Do you need to talk about it?"

"Can we?"

She nodded and walked over to him, her heart beating quickly. As they stepped down the ladder, she noticed that her hands were shaking and sweaty. It was all normal to her, but she really wished that in that moment her body would stop freaking out.

They walked over to her desk and sat down in the chairs, facing each other. "So...what's wrong?" she asked, worried.

Adrien looked at the ground. No matter how much he wanted to avoid telling her the story, he had to. He was in her bedroom, the point of no return. Whatever he said, he knew wouldn’t leave the house, through. That comforted him just enough to push him to tell her. "I can't go back home. It's not safe. Not now at least."

"What? Why?"

He sighed heavily. "I just found out my father is Hawkmoth."

Marinette’s eyes were about to pop out of her skull. Of all people she could have been fighting, it had to be Gabriel Agreste. The world-famous fashion designer she looked up to. The father of her crush. Why, of all people, did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have been anyone else? Someone that didn’t affect her friends. “Adrien...” she muttered sadly, his tears reflecting on her eyes.

Her hands reached out but stopped, not knowing what to do. As Ladybug she found it easy to comfort others. As Marinette...not so much. Especially when the person crying was Adrien. Usually, she hugged those in need and assured them that everything would be alright. It wouldn’t work this time. Nothing would ever alright. What he had just gone through was so harsh that he would never recover. It wasn’t something Ladybug could fix by throwing a Lucy Charm in the air. It wasn’t something capturing an akuma would fix. Capturing Hawkmoth wouldn’t help.

“I’m so sorry...” A hot tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she repeated, hating for herself for not knowing how to help him. “Please, stay here.” She sniffled and grabbed his hands, feeling the fallen droplets on his skin. He looked up at her, wanting to cry even more that he had made her cry too. “I promise you with my life that I will protect you. You’re safe here. Just...don’t go. I don’t know what’d happen if you didn’t have somewhere safe to stay.” She took in a shaky breath. “Please don’t leave me.”

Adrien smiled weakly, a smile that shattered Marinette’s heart. He was happy that he found a new home, even if it was temporary. There would be lively dinners, human interaction, people that truly cared about him, and, above all, no Miraculous to worry about, except for his own, of course. His face couldn’t display that joy. The pain was far too strong. Still, he forced himself to smile through the strong frown. “Thank you, Marinette.”

Without hesitation, he pulled her into a large hug. He held her tightly, a combination of needing human contact and not wanting to loose the only person that was there to protect him.

Marinette didn’t freak out for the first time in a while. Seeing him so raw had in turn made her raw, which worked in her favor as it curbed her anxiety. She closed her eyes and smiled, the last of her tears falling onto his shoulders.

After embracing each other for a few long moments, they pulled away. Adrien rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, the waterfall finally coming to a halt. He yawned, all of the sudden emotions tiring him out. His chronic lack of sleep wasn’t much help, either.

Marinette, rubbing her eyes, stood up and pushed her chair in. “Do you need anything? I could fix dinner for you, if you’d like.”

“No, but thank you. I just need sleep.” He ruffled his already messy hair.

Marinette finally took notice of how horrible he looked. His hair was a mess, nothing like the perfectly groomed hair Adrien normally donned. Instead of his typical outfit, he wore a hoodie and sweatpants. He hadn’t even bothered to grab tennis shoes, his feet fitting snug in a pair of slide-on sandals. The kindness that usually sat in his eyes was replaced with a gray haze. Dried tears he hadn’t bothered to wash off sat on top of the dark circles underneath them. This wasn’t the picture-perfect-company-image-Adrien she had come to know. This was his true form, him at his true worst.

"Maybe you should take a shower first," she suggested. Once her words registered, she became flustered again. "N-not that you're bad how you are now! I just thought-"

"No, I understand. I haven't been in the best mood lately. I think the shower can wait until tomorrow. Tonight, I need to separate myself from my old home."

An arrow shot through Marinette’s heart, shattering the broken pieces she had begun to put back together. It was almost impossible for her to imagine what it must have been like to be forced to leave all he loved behind. “Do you need to go back there and get a few things? I’d be glad to help.” She would 100% help him as Ladybug. The only problem was explaining how she got Ladybug to do it for her. In such a troubling time, she would willingly reveal her identity to help, but she couldn’t trust him, no matter how much she wanted to. This was Hawkmoth’s son. Even if she knew he was pure, she couldn’t take any chances.

“I can’t go back there. My father, he’d try to hurt me.” He looked at his Miraculous, and made himself aware of Plagg’s presence in his hoodie, half-wishing he had never been given it.

“Why would he do that? I’m sure he still loves you, even if he is...bad.”

"I can't explain it. If I did, it'd only put you in more danger."

"More danger?"

"He can find me, no matter where I am. He knows every single person I associate with. He's going to send my bodyguard and Nathalie. They're going to find out where I am eventually. If they can't, he'll just send over an akuma and figure it out easily." He sighed. "And I can't be akumatized.”

“If you were akumatized, I’m sure Ladybug and Chat Noir would help you.” She saw something strange flash in his eyes. “Besides...I don’t think I’d be in any more danger.” She was. She was Ladybug. She had the Miraculous his father wanted. If he found Adrien and her together, and tired to hurt her for helping him...he would figure it out easily and things wouldn’t be so pretty.

“What’s the worst he could do,” she continued, “akumatize me? If neither of us have a Miraculous, there’s no way he’d be able to do much harm to us.”

Plagg squirmed in the hoodie, hitting Adrien’s chest. It was tacit that the kwami was trying to warn him against mentioning his Miraculous. “It doesn’t matter. This will only end in pain. He’s going to find a way to get the Miraculous. He’s angry. Really angry. There’s going to be a really strong akuma soon, and it’s probably going to be me.”

"Not on my watch." He looked back up at Marinette. "I know how to avoid akumatization. All you have to do is tell yourself there's another way out, and he can't hurt you. Besides, he can't just come into my house and take you. If it comes down to it, we can run off to someone else's house. For now, though, we stay here and keep our eyes open."

But I have a Miraculous. It's extremely dangerous here, Adrien wished he could say.

It is dangerous being around him. I have a Miraculous, Marinette thought, weighing the good and bad.

Adrien stood up. "Can I go to bed now? I think I need to hit reset for a bit."

Marinette nodded. "You can sleep in my bed, if you'd like. I can sleep down here for a while until we figure something out."

"Can you lay with me? I don't feel comfortable being alone." He scratched the back of his head and looked to the side.

"U-uh, yes, I'd love to! Ah, I mean-yes, I'd love to help! Yeah, I'm always ready to help my best friend!"

Adrien smiled. Another yawn came over him, signaling he was about to crash. He climbed onto the bed, it’s warmth singing an irresistible song. Marinette followed, not bothering to change out of her normal clothes. A bright blush tinted her face, her anxiety finally coming back. Both teens got under the blanket awkwardly and lay down facing away from each other.

Almost immediately, Adrien fell asleep. He lay completely still, his chest softly rising and falling with his calm breathing. Marinette looked at him and smiled. She was in the same bed as Adrien Agreste! No, she shook her head. He's hurting. This isn't the time to be fangirling.

She turned around and looked at Tikki, who seemed more troubled than Marinette. "Tikki, what's wrong?"

"It's just...I feel so bad for him, and...there's other things that I can't tell you, to keep you safe. I'm sure when he's ready he'll tell you," Tikki explained.

Marinette nodded and turned the light off, enveloping the room in a comfortable darkness. The lights from Paris peeked through the windows, keeping the room from being completely dark. She closed her eyes and found sleep easy to come.

Tikki waited until Marinette had fallen asleep before flying over to Plagg, who had hidden under the bed. "Are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, I'm just worried for him. It's a lot to handle, especially since he's so young," Plagg explained.

Tikki understood completely. "Come lay up here. You don't have to worry here." She flew onto the bed, Plagg following. Both kwamis curled up by their owners and lay, hoping Hawkmoth would be kind that night.

———

Marinette’s eyes slowly opened to the annoying sound of her alarm. She groaned and turned it off, wishing for another couple hours of sleep. Just as she was about to sit up, she felt something laying on her. She looked down. Flesh? Her body froze as she realized what—or who—it was.

A scream almost erupted from her mouth, the sharp pain of her biting her lip preventing it from manifesting. The fact that Adrien had stayed the night had completely gone out the window during her slumber. Surprisingly, he was still fast asleep. He had cuddled up next to her, his arm and leg resting on her.

What was she supposed to do? He looked so peaceful sleeping like that. Cute, even. They couldn't be late to school, though. Well, Marinette couldn't. Not again.

Tikki flew over and gave Marinette a sly grin. Marinette pouted her lip. "This isn't funny!" she whispered. "I slept in the same bed as Adrien Agreste! He slept in my bed!"

All she got in return was that same grin. She turned to face Adrien again, giving up on entrusting her kwami for support. It was now or never. If she hesitated, both of them would be late. She set her hand on his shoulder and shook it softly. "Adrien...it's time to get up."

Luckily, his eyes slid open not long after she began to wake him up. He blinked a couple times, trying to register where he was. Once he came to, he sat up quickly and looked at Marinette, who had already begun to sit up.

"Good morning," Marinette said, trying to hide her embarrassment. She hoped she’d be the only one to remember the position they had slept in."Let's get ready for school, okay?"

He nodded and was the first to get down, not saying a word. Marinette followed, hoping his silence was due to his lack of awareness.

"I can show you the way to the bathroom," she suggested.

"Okay," he muttered, his voice still hoarse from sleeping.

She led him downstairs, only to be greeted by her mother, who had made breakfast for the both of them. "Ah!" Marinette exclaimed, almost falling down the stairs. "M-mom! I can explain it's-"

"Oh, honey, you don't have to explain. I know you're just trying to help a friend out," Sabine said sweetly. "I made breakfast for the both of you!"

Both teens walked over to the table, trying to hide their embarrassment. Adrien had finally begun to wake up and fully realized how strange the situation was. With that also came him remembering the events that took place the day before. He swallowed and looked down at the breakfast made for him.

He looked back up at Marinette, who was staring at the TV behind him. He smiled, without truly knowing why. He snapped out of it and turned to look at the TV, but Marinette stopped him.

"Ah, so, uh, Adrien..." she began, gaining his attention. "I guess I could help you catch up on what you missed yesterday. Once you're done eating, that is."

He nodded. "Thanks, that would help a lot."

Once they had finished eating in awkward silence, Marinette showed Adrien the way to the bathroom, allowing him to take as much time as he needed.

She sighed on the other side of the door and walked over to her mother. "We need to protect him from the news, Mom."

Her mother nodded, watching the broadcast of Gabriel Agreste.

"My son and I had a little...argument last night. He ran off, all of his teen angst getting the better of him. I hope we find him soon."

Marinette narrowed her eyes, knowing the only true reason he wanted Adrien was because he was Hawkmoth. If Adrien was home, then the secret would be safe. He could prevent Adrien from saying a thing just by locking him up and taking his access to the outside world.

Adrien leaned against the vanity, trying not to cry. Of course he remembered every single word his father said to him. He wished he could go back, but he couldn't. Not if his father was...

He refused to put those two names in the same sentence. Maybe if he ignored it, he would eventually be numb to it, just like everything else. He splashed water on his face, cooling it down and washing the budding tears away with it. Once he dried his face, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make it look semi-presentable. Tonight, he'd have to return home and get his things, no matter what. He couldn't live with just the clothes in his back, the ring on his finger, and the cell phone in his pocket.

He pulled the phone out and saw texts from his father and Nathalie. He didn't bother reading them before he deleted them. Sighing, he put the phone back in his pocket and walked out of the bathroom.

He noticed Marinette was all ready. He remembered he had forgotten to grab his bag from home, so all of his school work was still there.

Marinette saw he had finished and walked over to him. "We can share notes today. We'll find a way to get your things back later, okay?"

He nodded and followed the girl outside, avoiding the eyes of her parents and the customers. "I'm sorry, again, for dragging you into all of this."

"No, no, don't apologize! I'm always happy to help, Adrien." They crossed the street and walked to the school in silence, both trying to find the right words to say.

Neither of them were able to say anything because Alya and Nino had noticed them walking together. Alya ran over, dragging Nino with her.

"Marinette! Adrien! Fancy seeing you two here," Alya said, obviously wanting a full length essay about why they had come to school together.

"Dude, are you okay? You look horrible," Nino noted, worried for his best friend.

"Oh, yeah, I still don't feel too well," he scratched the back of his head.

"Hmm." Alya narrowed her eyes. "You don't seem sick. Why didn't your bodyguard bring you to school today?"

He froze. "Uh...because, uh..." He could feel himself about to cry with the mention of a piece of his home. He bit his lip, trying to hold back the gushing river.

"It's a long story, guys," Marinette cut in. "How about you let him explain when he's ready?"

Alya was taken aback. "Woah, someone's getting defensive."

"Al, let's just them go," Nino, suggested, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"But this is big news! Marinette not being flustered around Adrien, Adrien looking like he just climbed out of a grave, and both of them arriving to school together without his bodyguard! Is this not–"

"Let it go."

Alya looked at her two friends, who looked more uncomfortable now. She sighed and heeded Nino's advice. "Whatever, just let us know when you're ready."

They all walked inside and into class in silence. Adrien leaned into Marinette's ear. "Can I sit by you today?" He asked.

She nodded, blushing. She sat down and patted the seat next to her, signaling for Adrien to sit down. He sat down and toyed with his Miraculous subconsciously, not having much to do. As he sat in silence, his ears picked up the conversations of others.

Did you hear what happened?

No, what?

Gabriel Agreste just came on the news and said Adrien had run away last night!

But...he's right there.

Where did he go?

What happened to him?

He tried to hold back his tears, but one slid down his cheek, causing the rest of them to flow. There was no sobbing, no messiness. Just tears falling down his cheeks and him burying his head in his arms to hide them.

Marinette noticed he had lay his head down and became concerned. He wasn't one to sleep in class or even rest his head. Still, she let him be, hoping he'd be fine. In his state, he didn’t need to be pestered.

He was anything but fine, but he had to hide his pain. He didn't know why. Maybe if nobody could see his pain, he wouldn't worry others. If he hid his pain then everyone would be safer. Marinette was already in danger. Nobody else needed to be put in danger because of himself.

Once he felt the tears stop, he lifted his head, sniffled, and rubbed his eyes. He rested his head in his hand and spaced out as Miss Bustier began her lesson.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous fanfic #adrienette #bad things happen bingo #angst #angst fic #i cried while writing this :(

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sage-nebula · 5 years

Text

Astral Chain - Howard Twins Headcanons

As I usually do when I play video games, I came up with headcanons and fleshed out the narrative / scenes in my head as I played through Astral Chain. I’m thinking about putting all of those ideas into a fic that’s something of a novelization of the story (albeit with some canon divergences, deeper explorations of relationships, and lots of flashbacks to the past), but until I do that, I figured I’d jot down some headcanons I have for the twins that would absolutely play into anything I decided to write for them, both serious and trivial.

With that said . . .

- - -

Their names are Maki and Akira. Maki is the girl, Akira is the boy.

Max is the one who named them, because their father was nowhere to be seen when he found them, and their mother redshifted into an aberration minutes after they were born. That said, it took him a while to come up with names for them; for the first week and a half he referred to them as “Girl Baby” and “Boy Baby” respectively.

That said, he did put legitimate thought into their names. When he got a chance he went through baby name sites to try to find Japanese names, and ultimately picked their names based on what they (the twins) meant to him. He chose “Akira” because the site he found said it meant “shining; bright.” He chose “Maki” because the site he found said it meant “truth; hope.” He later learned that Japanese names can mean many different things depending on the kanji chosen for them (and that he hadn’t chosen any kanji at all because he couldn’t read it), but he decided to keep the names anyway because he liked the sound of them, particularly since they subtly matched (Maki, Akira).

He actually doesn’t know which one was born first, but just decided it was Maki after being asked one too many times by strangers and flipping a coin to decide on an answer.

Maki’s hair is naturally light bluish-silver, and her eyes are naturally purple. No one knows if this is due to genes on one parent’s side or another, or if this is due to the red matter she and Akira soaked up while in the womb. Max would rather smash skulls than let scientists find out.

Maki is also naturally near-sighted, which gives way to needing vision correction. She usually wears glasses, but does have a pair of brown contacts---the same color as Akira’s---that she uses sometimes as well. She used these and black hair dye when she took the police academy entrance exams to make a better impression on those testing her, not wanting to be looked upon as a delinquent and have that affect her scores. Once accepted, she went back to her natural hair color / showed her natural eye color, knowing they couldn’t (or rather, wouldn’t) exactly boot her out so long as she kept her performance up.

Akira’s eyesight is perfect, as are his other senses. Darker hair and eyes also speak to dominant genes. These things always made Akira subconsciously think he was stronger than his sister, which is part of what caused such a shock to his system when she could fully control her Legion while he lost control of his.

On a lighter note, Maki and Akira have always considered the other to be their best friend, and were always open and unashamed about this fact. Obviously, things took a turn for the very strained and bad once they both came to Neuron.

That said, when they fought, they fought; neither has ever held anything back from each other and shouting matches could get intense. They always forgave each other, but there were times when Max had to separate them for his own sanity and eardrums.

Like most people, Akira cried when he was born. Maki did not. In his defense, Akira was also nearly killed by his aberration mother shortly after being born, so.

To that end, Akira has always been something of an easy crier, as well as loudly expressive of his emotions. Maki cries less easily, and is quieter about how she feels, though no less expressive if you look at her (and even with how quiet she is, she can be pushed---see the reference to the shouting matches above).

Akira is more impulsive, whereas Maki takes more time to think. However, Akira places far more importance in following rules and regulations, whereas Maki prefers to ask forgiveness rather than permission (and even then, does not always ask forgiveness if she doesn’t care whether the other person forgives her or not; this is the case with Yoseph after everything in Zone 09 and how she’s thrown in jail, for instance).

To that end, while Maki does look up to and respect Max a great deal, she didn’t feel it was strictly necessary to become a cop to save people, and signed up partially because Akira was signing up and she wanted to watch out for him as his partner on the field. This is why she goes along with things like trying to fight a chimera even though Max said not to (because she doesn’t want Akira to get hurt / killed), and also why she doesn’t really mind being a fugitive once Yoseph declares her one.

Maki’s favorite colors are blue and purple; Akira’s favorite color is red; and Max’s favorite color is green.

Maki is asexual with an ambiguous romantic orientation; she doesn’t think gender really plays a part in who she develops feelings for at all, but she does develop feelings for Hal and he’s a cyborg who interacts with her through a drone 99.9% of the time, so. There’s that.

Akira is gay, but he’s been so laser-focused on becoming an officer for so long that he’s never realized / recognized his attraction to anyone before, much less thought about a relationship. When he does develop a crush on someone, he’s caught so off-guard and becomes so flustered that he’s more likely to pull a “get out of my precinct” than anything else. When Maki notices, she tries to help him be less of a disaster about it (and when he realizes that’s what she’s doing, he points out that she’s dating a cyborg who interacts with her primarily through drone and so she’s not exactly an expert on this, which is when she points out that he just told his crush to get out of HQ via handwritten note, which is when Olive overhears this and decides to give both of the disasters some guidance (”or,” she says, “at least Akira, because at least he’s got better taste than Hal”).

While Akira is more impulsive, Maki is the one more likely to jump to practical violence faster, e.g. knocking out guards instead of trying to sneak past them, punching someone in the face for making fun of her brother when they were younger, et cetera. Part of this can be seen in how Akira prefers to fight from a distance with ammunition, whereas Maki prefers to get up close and personal to hit things.

Once they became officers, Alicia made a comment along the lines of, “Guess your sister prefers the short staff because of her eyesight, huh?” to Akira, to which he replied, “I think she just likes to hit things and get it over with.” Later, when Alicia brought up her theory to Maki (saying she’d mentioned it to Akira), Maki shrugged and said, “Eh, I just like to hit things and get it over with.” Akira’s grin was so smug.

Maki loves ice cream; it’s a huge vice and weakness. Akira prefers cake, and keeps little snack cakes in his locker at HQ.

Consequently, their birthday cakes were always ice cream cakes.

Although they’re not identical and couldn’t pass for one another, they used to always swap and wear each other’s clothes growing up, and even now that they’re adults Maki still has no qualms about “borrowing” one of Akira’s sweatshirts or jackets (and he really doesn’t care if she does).

Max took extra care to never make one of them think the other was the favorite. Whenever he praised one for something, he found something else to praise the other for, and so forth. Any time it seemed like there might be a hint of competition for his attention or affection between them, he shut it down real quick by giving attention and affection to both at the same time.

Akira was always quietly envious of Maki’s ability to seemingly always remain cool and level-headed in tense situations; Maki was always quietly envious of Akira’s ability to quickly be open with and befriend strangers.

Akira is very ticklish in his sides and whenever he would get too wrapped up in trying to appear mature and Definitely Ready to Save the World, Maki would tickle him there to bring him back down to earth. Obviously, it wasn’t really possible to fix things this way once they got to Neuron.

When they were kids and Max had them out shopping or for errands and they’d get too rambunctious, he’d tell them, “stealth mode, eyes up.” Thinking this was part of Hero Training™, they’d serious up very quick and be much more manageable for the rest of the trip.

“Eyes up” is the Howard way of saying, “stay safe; take care” whenever separating.

Maki tries to keep Akira out of (life-threatening) danger; Akira tries to keep Maki out of (serious) trouble. As demonstrated by everything that happens once they join Neuron, both tend to be rather bad at their self-appointed tasks.

While Maki would punch those who teased Akira in the face when they were children, Akira took a more passive-aggressive approach to dealing with those who would tease Maki. He would stand up for her in person, generally, telling the other kid to back off---but then he’d also pay close attention to them so that the moment they did something wrong, he’d get them caught by the teacher (or principal, or whoever) so they’d get in trouble.

They shared a room for many years growing up. Max got a bigger place so they could have separate rooms once they hit their teenage years, but on nights when Max would be out very late working, both twins would end up sleeping on opposite ends of the couch together anyway, Maki’s legs up over the back while Akira’s were spread out across the coffee table, both because they’d tried to wait up for him, and because they felt less anxious about his safety if they were near each other.

Once they were old enough to use things like the microwave, stove, or even oven without burning the house down, Akira and Maki worked together took cook dinner (or breakfast, or whatever) for Max on his birthday. On Father’s Day, they always pooled their allowances to get him a mutual gift. (They would hand make him cards, and Max saved each and every one in a photo album.)

Each year on their birthday, they played a game of trying to guess what the other got them. By the time they hit Neuron, their scores are about even.

When they were in school, if one of them got detention, the other would do something wrong so they’d be in detention together after school. For instance, once Maki got detention for pouring her soup over a boy who was harassing another girl in the lunch room, so Akira landed himself in the same detention by looking a teacher straight in the eye as he knocked their coffee mug off their desk and onto the floor, and then not even saying sorry after. (He bought them a new mug two days later.)

Akira is a horrible liar, and he doesn’t make a habit of trying, but he’d often try to if it meant covering for his sister, which would usually go something like: “I think your sister did [this wrong thing].” “I don’t know, I don’t know her.” “You don’t know your sister??” Maki is only slightly better because she usually shuts her mouth and refuses to talk at all.

One time when Jin was babysitting he took the twins out for a day of fun, and at one point they decided (without asking) to play hide-and-seek with him. At first their hiding spaces were pretty obvious to him, though he pretneded they weren’t, but then somehow they managed to slip away and he, however briefly, lost them and panicked because he knew that he’d be dead before he had a chance to make a will if Max found out. Fortunately, he found the twins before then.

Another time when they were kids, they decided to give each other haircuts. When Max saw them, he laughed so hard he cried, and took pictures. The twins, fortunately, were too young to be embarrassed.

#astral chain #maximilian howard #akira howard #maki howard #astral chain spoilers #ac spoilers #ok that's enough for now #i'm so sad at the ending this family got THEY DESERVED HAPPINESS #maybe if i novelize it i can do something slightly better #because that clone bit . . . it's too sad for words #but anyway Akira has lying skills on par with Miles Morales and you will pry that from my cold dead hands

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whenimgoodandready · 5 years

Text

Adrienette, Lukanette, Adrienette, Lukanette, Adrienette, Lukanette, Adrienette, Lukanette, Adrienette, Lukanette, Adrienette, Lukanette, Adrienette, Lukanette, ADRIENETTE! LUKANETTE! ADRIENETTE! LUKANETTE! IDK!? STOP BADGARING ME FANDOM!!! Even Marinette is indecisive about it! She’s just a dumb teenager who doesn’t know what she wants!..........does she?

*Desperada-Marinette and the girl squad were hangin’ out at Julekas house boat listening to Kitty Section rehearse and Marinette and Luka get cozy with each other. It also looks to be that the squad is starting to jump onboard with the Lukanette ship. Well, Adrienette isn’t goin’ anywhere so how much longer are they gonna support something that hasn’t even set sail yet!? Adrien and Kagami show up (having ditched fencing practice) and Marinette quickly leaves Lukas side to not give Adrien the impression she likes Luka. Oh, Marinette, what are we gonna do with you? She even says they’re “just friends” too🤨.

Jagged Stone arrives and he tries to get Juleka and Lukas mother back into the band cuz they had “history”. Oh! Thing is, he fired his guitarist, Vivica, and now he’s looking for a new one. Hmmmm, a new guitarist? Like, someone who knows rock n’ roll? And who’s young and talented? Marinette knows a guy like that! IIIIIIt’s Lu-Adrien!? Whomp! Whomp! Whomp! 🤦‍♀️. Marinette WTF!? Adrien is a classical pianist! I highly doubt he’s strummed a guitar! She knows damn well Luka is a better fit and yet she’s still trying to give Adrien hints she wants him! Okay, Marinette, I know how much you want Adrien, but you can’t just ignore talent when you see it from Luka.

Just then, Vivica shows up in her akumatized form calling herself Desperada! OOOOOH! So she’s that mysterious villainess I saw in “Gamer 2.0”! Well, thanks for the closure! (I’m talking to you person in charge of episode scheduling 😑). Desperada, I like that name, reminds me of a Rihanna song. Thing is, it’s more like a Western name and she didn’t really look “Western”. I mean, she kinda did with the whole musical skeleton make-up look, which is pretty cool, but nothing really “Wild Wild West” to me. It was more like something outta “The Book of Life” or “Coco” with that sugar skull thing. I’m a little fan of westerns where there’s a female outlaw that’s why. Her powers were using any instrument like a gun to capture people in her guitar case with a pic of them appearing on it as a sticker. Let’s just say if she wasn’t a musician, she’d make a bada** sniper!

Anyways, Desperada captures everyone except the love triangle kids and Ladybug is given the lucky charm to bring in extra help from Master Fu again using the snake miraculous! The snake miraculous!? OOOOOH! We saw who that was! (“Party Crasher”), some people in the fandom were right about it too! And now, ladies and gentlemen, the holder of the snake miraculous, (drum roll) Luk(trumpets begin to sound)-ADRIEN!? AGAIN!? (trumpets die out). WTF!? WHY!? Okay, I get it, he did save Luka when Desperada almost got him and as we know, Marinette/Ladybug doesn’t know Adriens Cat Noir, but still! Adrien agrees to it thinking he’ll win over Ladybug in a new superhero form since this time, she knows who he is and becomes “Aspik”...........(turns to the trumpeteers) you guys can sound I guess, (trumpets sound, but not enthusiastically). Okay, thank you.

So um, the snake miraculous is a bracelet of a snake swallowing itself, a Kwami snake like being named Sass (remember him from “Sandboy”!? He’s kinda like the leader of the Kwamies), a harp weapon and its power is “Second Chance” where they can go back a few minutes in time by turning the snake head on their bracelet back and it’s not a one hit power! It can go on as many times until the snake head gets to the end! It’s almost like Bunnyxs power except hers is more serious and can go back (and fourth) many times and it’s more fragile. Huh, I always thought the snake miraculouses power would be hypnotism, but I’m thinking too much “Jungle Book” here (what do snakes have to do with time travel!?). That’s cool! So it’s just Ladybug and Aspik vs. Desperada. It. went. TERRIBLE! Ladybug kept getting captured again and again and again and again and again AND AGAIN! And do you know why!? Cuz Aspik over here was too busy trying to woo Ladybug and not focusing on defeating the bad guy! That’s why!

ENOUGH! Adrien quits cuz he’s had it with being a f**king failure as it’s been 25,913 times! 25,913 TIMES!? 25,913 TIMES!? 25,913 TIMES!? 25,913 TIMES!? DAMN ADRIEN! YOU SUCK! Ladybug finally sees she’s wrong again! So Adrien suggests Luka take the miraculous instead. HALLELUJAH! Ladies and gentlemen, the real holder of the snake miraculous, Viperion, a.k.a. Luka Couffaine! (trumpets sound and end with a big finish!). Now this guy, this guy! Does a hell of a better job than “Aspik” did and it only took him a few tries! Humph!

I apologize for my wild outbursts there, I’m a very passionate writer and I speak what others are afraid to say. I’m like a voice for the people. I’m sure that’s what all of you were probably thinking way in the back of your heads there about the plot that occurred in the episode. I’ve settled down now and I’ll explain more. Ahem, first off, the girl squad are now leaning towards the Lukanette ship cuz they’re probably sick and tired of all the Adrienette nonsense and want something new. More importantly, they think this ship better since Marinette is more comfortable with Luka and how he’s more liberated than the sheltered Adrien. Fair point. The character Vivica/Desperada was based off a fan who won a contest at comic con and was originally supposed to be a veterinarian until they changed it to a guitarist (she looked so cute!). I heard about that, they also said she was supposed to be a fan of Cat Noir and was upset that he wasn’t getting as much recognition as Ladybug. It would’ve been nice cuz according to my Love Chart (which I legit have), nobody and I mean NOBODY likes Cat Noir, so cut him some slack and give him at least one fangirl! C’mon! Adrien failed at being the snake miraculous holder, but it’s not because he sucked (25,913 TIMES!? That’s like 3 months!), but it’s cuz there was no black cat hero to assist Ladybug! It was just Ladybug and Aspik and no Cat Noir! I thought they would’ve realized by now that they can’t defeat the villain unless it’s both of ‘em (plus a third or fourth party if necessary) to stop ‘em! Sure Ladybug defeated Style Queen by herself, but at least she had a “black cat” like someone there to help! It has to be Ladybug and Cat Noir! Good luck/Bad luck, Yin/Yang! That’s the idea! The reason why they didn’t see that was cuz they were both blinded by love! Marinette/Ladybug mostly picked Adrien to be the snake miraculous holder cuz she thought, “OMG! I’m gonna be fighting crime with my crush!” and Adrien/Cat Noir said yes cuz he thought, “Maybe she’ll love me this time if she knows who I am!” :P. Even Plagg thought it was a bad idea cuz he knew they needed Cat Noir and they weren’t even focused on Desperada and just trying to court each other! You’d think Marinette/Ladybug would’ve listened to her own words about Adrien being a distraction in her life (“Chameleon”). Speaking of courting, during one of Aspiks failed Second Chances, he confessed to Ladybug that he was Cat Noir (cuz she knows he’s Adrien as Aspik) and we only see a brief look of shock on her face before she’s captured again. Wonder what was quickly goin’ through her head at that point? Flashbacks of all her moments with him as himself and Cat and how she acted like both herselves in front of ‘em realizing how stupid she’s been? Lol! The shocks gonna be more wilder when it happens though and I’ll be there to see it. Ladybug really should’ve picked Luka first cuz at least he was bold enough to step in and distract Desperada to save Ladybug like he did as Viperion. Poor Adrien though, now he’s gonna think his Lady is too incompetent to be a hero. Well, not a “snake” hero at least, but a different animal hero if only she knew. The problem is Marinette is indecisive. She doesn’t know what she wants which is why she can’t choose between Adrien and Luka. Tikki and Kagami can see that and the latter even points out how Marinette needs to make up her mind already! Actually, according to the Season 3 canon episode order, this is actually the start of the mid episodes which means things won’t get more complicated ‘til the end. Especially when the last few episodes are more focused on the love issues. Currently, we’re dealing with plot right now, but we’ll eventually get there.

#miraculous ladybug #desperada #miraculous ladybug desperada

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crazed-rambling · 4 years

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What The Water Takes It Returns

Morgan didn’t go down to The Beach. Not the sandy beach four miles down, with its soft breeze and softer tides lapping at your feet. Their days were filled with running through the shallows shoes in hand whenever they could convince their mother to take a detour home from school. Even now; without mother, they’d still spend summer days sitting on the sands. But still Morgan never went down to The Beach.

Though only a few minutes’ walk from their house it had never been a place for summer days. Pounded by the winds on the best of days and lost to the North Sea on the worst, mother had never trusted the tides enough to let Morgan and Thomas loose. Despite all the treasures the other kids had brought back; the most beautiful shells, iridescent in the sunlight that when you put to your ear, no matter where you were you could always hear the call of the sea. Thomas had brought back one of these shells once, and a broken leg. A bet with the other boys gone wrong he said, but he like all the others seems almost covetous of his prize and he’d never answer any of their questions.

Of course, Morgan had seen The Beach, they’d peered down from the cliff many times, braced against the winds, watching as the waves broke and crashed upon the shore. But they never went down, never gone further than the trees where the grass gave way and the track clung to the rock faces as it plunged down towards the shore. They’d always been a good child, too afraid of disappointing mother again and too distracted by the warmer drier adventures to be found within the fields between Village and the old lighthouse. It had always seemed to be a lonely figure standing alone on the cliffs, salt winds stripping it of its paint and any company it could have had. Still Morgan liked the lighthouse, it could be seen from their bedroom window, a single light in the darkness, calling out to ships unseen. When they couldn’t sleep and mother was no longer there to comfort them; they’d stare out into the darkness and talk to the lighthouse, it never responded but they appreciated its company all the same.

The Beach had never held such interest to them and by the time they became aware that breaking the rules would not in fact end the world they had far better things to be worrying about. Such as whether they could get away with wearing the boys uniform or scrounging together enough spare change from the bus to buy a liquid eyeliner; which they then proceeded to apply in thick wobbly lines for months. Both had got them detention at first but they’d got better and soon even Ms Clarke their form tutor was forced to give up on them, and from that point they’d proceeded to wear both with pride just to make their victory clear.

But here they were standing at the edge of that path, salt whipping at the gap between their crop top and jeans. The sounds of drunken shouting and The Chainsmokers muffled by the sound of waves. Thomas had called it a last hurrah, the last chance to go wild before they were all out of there, off to university, to drinking, to sex, to lifelong debt. Half the school had decided to cram itself into their living room, borrowed speakers wedged on either side of the fireplace, cider bottles among school photos and sports trophies. This wasn’t the first time, dad had taken it as a sign that we were recovering normally and was all too willing to leave the house to us on weekends, so long as the police were never called. So, Morgan’s teenage years had been spent working out how much they could drink before it was too much and playing Ring of Fire wedged between Thomas’s friends, trying to make a place for themselves. They were nice enough, especially after a few ciders when everything they said was funny and people stopped forgetting why Morgan was a little odd, but still they were no Farah. Not that they’d put Farah through this, the music was too loud and the space far too small for anyone who didn’t drink. But still there was something to be said about drinking with people who knew far too many of your embarrassing stories before you’d even been introduced, like gaining six older brothers and a sister in the form of Anna, their brother’s girlfriend and the most embarrassing crush of 2016. Although Morgan could have done without the rest of their year, it seems they agreed since they’d left the house to the party goers and decided to go see the ‘cool-ass beach where I broke my leg’ at Thomas’s endorsement. They’d lost Julian to a rock that he swore looked like a squirrel and Jack and Ben to the chippy along the way but here they were. Thomas leading the way, illuminating the path with his phone and yelling warnings about not dying back at the rest: elder brothers gave the most helpful advice.

Maybe it was the cider making them think of things which would have normally been inane but Morgan hadn’t realised that they’d never seen The Beach properly before this moment. A realisation which, to their drunk mind, made taking the first step seem all the more ominous. As though once their foot touched The Beach, they could never go back to a person who had never been to The Beach.

“Hey Morgan, you coming?” even drunk, Anna’s voice seemed to float up them, light and lyrical in a way no one else seemed to notice.

“You being a pussy, Morgan?”

Drunk laughter.

Decision made.

Sending a quick apology to mother Morgan made their way down the path, between the rocks, feet striking the ground with slightly more force than necessary, their yell of “Fuck off Thomas” lost to the night. they picked their way around damp rocks, careful to test every step and clinging close to the rock face, following the sound of voices until it gave way to the sound of boots on shingle.

The wind was so much stronger on the beach, the smell of salt on the air so thick you could taste it on your tongue. The music had faded; drowned by the rhythmic crashing of the waves and Thomas’s dramatic re-enactment of how he once saved a dog on a beach, an epic that seemed to get more thrilling with each retelling; maybe by the time he told his kids there’d be a sea monster to fight. Morgan hoped so, it’s not a very interesting story otherwise. But apparently interesting enough for the drunk teenagers hanging off his every word, faces illuminated by harsh LED light.

You can see the lighthouse from here, makes sense if you think about it ships could see it for miles. It still looked lonely to Morgan, standing there alone on the cliff tops, it’s black figure only visible from the lack of stars. They couldn’t really judge though, they were also standing alone by the sea, they weren’t even saving ships. Some direction was better than none and the lighthouse was as good as any so they made that their North Star walking away from the others until all they could hear was the pebbles beneath their feet and the waves.

Now that they were actually on The Beach, they weren’t quite sure what there was to do, the whole thing was pretty anticlimactic and they mused that they should probably stop thinking of it as The Beach now that they’d actually visited. The shine of glass washed up on the shore caught their eye and brought their brothers prized shell to mind, the way it glinted in the sun greens, blues and purples fading into one another in a way that reminded them of pictures of the northern lights. They’d never seen shells like it from any other beach and no one ever seemed willing to part with them no matter how many they collected. Disappointment forgotten they kept their eyes trained on the pebbles beneath their feet, eyes squinted in search of a reflection among the grey. The wind seemed to be sobering everyone up, making The Beach a lot less interesting and a lot more damp if the sounds of Thomas and his friends making their way up the path yelling promises to see them at the house were anything to go by. Between finally having one of those shells or another round of cheap vodka shots Morgan’s decision was easy, they had years to give themselves alcohol poisoning. Although the beach seemed all that much darker for the lack of others, the waves ceased catching the moonlight and stones seeming all the duller now alone. Shell hunting was probably designed for the day time when not exposing your stomach to arctic winds and with Farah by your side. The chills down their back and salt on their tongue had just about driven them from the beach when they finally saw it. A glint of brightness between the pebbles. A shell. Finally. They could place it on their windowsill and watch its colours dance in the sunlight, they didn’t know why they wanted it so badly now, maybe it was just a dislike of failure, but they wanted it. In that moment more than anything else. Their pace picked up as they approached the shore, hairs raised on their exposed arms, the sound of pebbles slipping beneath their feet, eyes on the sliver of white as though they’d lose it if they blinked.

With a decided crunch they landed on their knees, grateful for the denim to protect them the sharp edges of broken shells and rocks. As they moved the nearby stones out of the way it became clearer that this would be larger than any shell they’d seen so far, although paler than the rest as well. Once they’d suitable located their prize they struggled to find a grip on its surface, worn smooth by the salt and sea. The dull pain of knuckles scraping against rocks did nothing to deter them as they wiggled their prize free. And soon the sound of sliding rocks to be heard as the ground gave way. The warm sense of satisfaction in their chest Morgan turned it around to examine their prize. The sound of it colliding with the shingle deafening, drowning out the waves and wind as they stared at their discovery, fingers numb and breathe shallow.

Not a shell but a cracked skull, washed up upon the shore.

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officerjennie · 5 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara Characters: Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Heroes & Heroines, Supernatural Elements Series: Part 2 of Hero and Villain Verse Summary:

Something dark is taking hold of him.

A companion piece - and sequel to - Spark.

Click the link or continue below to read!

Their rutting was more wild, frantic, violent than any of their previous couplings.

They had done this countless times before, meeting in the abandoned buildings at the edge of town, fucking out the adrenaline and frustration against the crumbling walls and creaking floors. Darkness their only witness, the air filled with unabated moans and the sounds of flesh on flesh.

The last several months, however, their dances had been softer, less sharp at the edges, more low gasping and soft caresses and whispered affections. Each night found them more and more reluctant to let go, holding on to the lie that was their masks.

There was none of that now.

The wood beam supporting Hurricane’s weight groaned in protest at the snapping hips, Hellfire all teeth and bright-hot fury, Hurricane all desperate pleas and shaking, fingers like claws raking against his lover’s back as he shouts his release.

Even still, desperate and raging as he was, Hellfire found it nearly impossible to let him go, gripping him in the aftermath, shielding him from the world.

He had nearly lost him today. Nearly watched Hurricane die in front of him, shot down by lightning by a filthy weed of a monster, a nothing, a no one - a disgusting bug that had almost killed his lover, his Hurricane, from him for good.

It took hours to bear the idea of leaving, fighting back the urge to fold his lover in his arms and never let him go. Longer still before he could force himself home, slinking in the shadows lest someone spot and recognize him.

By the time he crawled into bed, dawn was peeking up over the horizon. A chill ran up his spin despite the warmth of his house, eyes flickering wary towards the dark corners of his room.

The shadow was closer.

Hellfire had always been able to see the spirits. They used to play with him when he was younger, much to the concern of his older sibling who could not see them. Kodama would lure him into the woods for hours, the little devils high in the treetops dropping acorns down on him - though the nicer ones would bring him flowers in apology, riding on his shoulders and hiding things in his hair for later. Animal spirits brought him food, throwing hissy fits when he would curl his nose up at the carcasses of fish and rabbits, even going as far as to strip the kills to try and tempt him.

Lately, however, he had been seeing them less and less.

The one that he could never quite make out, never quite bring into focus, was the only constant now, coming ever closer - ever since that day Hurricane had nearly died, ever since Hellfire had called out to the shadow entity for help for the first time.

The power he’d used had not come naturally to him - it took time to realize it was not his own, not some new development as he’d thought. In order to use it, he had to ask for it, though he only needed to do so in his thoughts. Having a massive skeletal arm at his disposal was useful, to say the least, and the more he called upon it the stronger it became, no longer shattering into ember fragments at the slightest blow. Lifting heavy objects might have never been an issue for him, his body able to withstand more strain than most others, but the new limb made it so much easier.

The entity he called upon came closer still, always present in his periphery, always just out of his physical reach but easing into his mind at a moment’s notice.

At first, it grated on him to know the power was not his own. He knew his greatest sin was pride, and knowing that it was not his made him hate using it. But the appendages made fights easier, kept his own arms free, and lifting larger objects more manageable. Their self-appointed jobs were too dangerous not to take any and all advantages at their disposal.

He had always been rather resilient, able to survive attacks that would crush a normal person. It lead to what most would call self-destructive habits, jumping head first into danger, more willing to sacrifice his own safety than those of others. Lately, it had become instinctual to call upon the entity for help, relying more on its strength than his own, letting it do more of the work for him.

It made everything easier in battle. The blue fire, the white bone, intimidated and startled opponents. The extra reach meant he no longer relied on close-combat, despite his love for exchanging physical blows. He could also protect his companions from afar, making it easier to focus on his own battles.

But part of him knew those weren’t the main reasons. He enjoyed the rush of thick power through his veins, the absolute force at his disposal. The raw energy he could command. He craved it, his body a little more empty every time it left, a little more willing to use it the next time his mask was set in place.

And the shadow loomed ever closer.

Living near a fault line at least meant constant employment, though Hellfire would have certainly been happier if he were actually getting paid for his help. Evacuating part of the city had certainly not been high on his weekend to-do list, no matter how necessary it was. At least moving rubble took less concentration than battling giant slugs like the ones from a week before - he shuddered at the thought, shoving a large chunk of concrete out of his way, trying to not think of the globs of slime he was still having to clean out of his hair.

Sweat stung his eyes, and he took a moment to breathe, looking around to assess the situation. He could see Mokudai in all his too-tight suit glory doing his best to support the collapsing apartment building, tone high-pitched as he begged for help from the spirits he couldn’t actually see. A small sprite had attached itself to the back of his cloak, blinking lazily at the two nymphs seated and chatting just off to the side. They sent dark looks his way, not once lifting a finger to aid him even as they grew strong roots to help his friend.

He didn’t bother trying to make sense of the garbled chattering of the nymphs. Seeing them had never made it easy for him to communicate with such creatures, though their relationships had never been tinted with hostility before.

A loud crack, groaning of concrete and wood, pieces falling around them - and the building starts to fall.

And Mokudai was right in its path.

He couldn’t reach him in time. Dust clouded the area even as he jolted forward, the ground shaking, shouts echoed but sounded far too distant. The damned fool was strong, but his thick skull wouldn’t save him here.

A shadow in his vision, desperation shooting through him - he had to get close enough, had to save him, couldn’t lose someone else, reaching even as falling glass tore at his clothes and skin, even as he saw the rubble about to crush his companion, his friend, he had to save him-

Agony. Searing pain in his blood. His vision white, and then blue flaming energy around him. Breathing labored, body shaking. When he finally could see again, he’s on his knees, nails scrapping into the ground, bloody. Mokudai was at his side, voice distant and panicked. A hissing sound just at the edge of the energy, the small sprite spitting at the white structure in the flames.

He rolled his eyes towards the bones connected to the usual arm, the effort leaving him dizzy. It resembled a rib cage - half of one, at least. A hand found his face, found the oozing liquid leaking out of his left eye, but the words still made no sense to the swirling weight of his empty mind.

Another person rushed towards them, white hair dyed grey from the dust, red eyes wide and searching. Hurricane shouted something at them, vaulting over what looked like the remains of a dresser - and was flung backwards as he touched smoking blue energy, sliding against the ground until he hit another piece of unrecognizable and broken furniture.

He saw him try again. Felt the moment he stepped too close, something in his head screaming at the contact. He fought against the need to push, eyes shut and sweat dripping off his face.

The next hand that cupped his face was more familiar. A soothing voice, calm pushing through the storm, white noise fading into the sounds of Hurricane speaking to him, talking him down.

Bones disappeared in ember and ash. The pain became unbearable, his head pounding, unwelcome sounds tearing out of his throat. Blood leaked profusely from his eye, his vision blurred and eyes burning.

On some level, he recognized Mokudai mother henning about him, flailing here and there, spewing high-pitched nonsense. His head was soon rested against his lover’s chest, one arm holding him while the other hand checks for wounds. Some words made more sense than others, his low voice easing the ache of his thoughts until he can actually understand what is being said about him.

“...don’t know yet what caused it, your healing might make it worse.”

“M’fine.” He wasn’t fine. His head hurt, his arms hurt, breathing hurt, existing hurt. But he hated the thought of the two of them fretting over him like some useless child. Supporting his own weight took more effort than he would ever admit, but he leaned back anyway, cradling his head in one hand when it felt like it might fall off.

“You are not fine, and don’t bother trying to hide it.” The tone should have been sharper. He shook his head at the worry, doing his best to push himself back to his feet.

“I’ll be fine. Just. Need to rest my eyes a bit. Happens.”

“What do you mean, it happens? What happens?” Hellfire glared over at the obnoxious idiot, gesturing towards the blood streaming down his cheek in response.

Much to his displeasure, that only made the fretting worse, a flood of questions barreling over him at a volume that was near ear-splitting with his head hurting as it was.

“Are you talking about your eye? What’s wrong with your eyes? Have they bled like that before? Why have you never brought this up? And what about the whole collapsing in pain thing? Do you do that often too? What about-”

“Would you just-” His own voice had him flinching, and he had to take a moment to calm down, not wanting to hurt himself further. “No, they don’t usually bleed. They just hurt. And my head. Migraines. It’s not a big deal.”

A hand on his shoulder had him turning, only to sigh as it brushed through his hair, stopping to scratch at his scalp. Normally, he wouldn’t lean so heavily on Hurricane in public, but he knew his weaknesses too well, and his body ached with the effort of standing. And the fingers felt nice in his hair.

“Your eyes don’t normally bleed?” Talking seemed too difficult at the moment, so he shook his head, letting Hurricane support his weight. “Hellfire, do you think it might have been the new addition to the bone structure that caused the bleeding?”

Something twitched in him at the question, but he ignored it, shrugging instead. He didn’t want to think about it. All he wanted was to sleep, and maybe drag Hurricane with him to pet his hair some more, soothing as the motion was.

“You shouldn’t use it for a while, just in case. There’s no telling what sort of damage it’s done.”

The statement tasted of poison. He jerked away, every piece of him feeling betrayed by the suggestion.

Why it felt like that, he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what came over him, what caused him to react so strongly, to spit fire and venom at his companions. It was like something tore his body open and forcibly poured sun-hot fury into his veins, his conscious fogged by blinding rage.

He didn’t remember what he said to them. Didn’t remember leaving, didn’t know when or how he made it home, what happened after that.

He only remember the look of pained confusion on Mokudai’s face, the poorly concealed concern and fear on Hurricane’s.

It was the first time in nearly two years that they didn’t meet in the abandoned buildings, his only company that night the looming shadow now at his side.

#madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #fanfiction #mywriting #superheroes au #also on ao3 #modern setting #some supernatural elements

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therealcalicali · 6 years

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REPOST FOR @TEPHI101 (Ivar, I Have Something To Tell You.” Part 3)

SINCE THE APP IS ACTING UP, YET AGAIN, THIS IS A CUT AND PASTE POSTING FOR MY GIRL @tephi101 (she inspired the damn series and can’t even read it thanks to this wonky #$^%!* app!) FIX THE ISSUES TUMBLR!!!!!

Hopefully, anyone whose app is not acting up, should be able to read the fully illustrated post here:

“IVAR I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU.” PART 3

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PART 3 WARNINGS: Character Death, Murder, Threats, Violence, Domestic Violence, Angst, Cheating, Sex and Fluff

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You were carried back home from the docks after hearing Ivar gloat about Harald sailing off to Wessex. It was as if in an instant, all your of strength was drained from your body and you felt sick to your stomach. Truly, you had nearly vomited due to how shocked you were at the revelation. When your legs went weak, you were very fortunate that Halfdan was standing nearby. The strong warrior was the one who caught you in his arms as you fainted. Your husband merely watched as his friend did his best to awaken you, almost mocking your reaction. When your eyes had finally fluttered open, Ivar cocked his head to the side and smiled - as if trying to decide whether to laugh maniacally or to just keep things smug. He chose the latter.

Though a concerned Halfdan asked if they should escort you back home, your husband insisted that it wasn’t necessary. He commanded some thralls to carry you back to the estate whilst he remained with his friends at the docks; watching the sunset over the ocean. Indeed, Ivar was a delighted and content man - looking ever so forward to his sweet, sweet revenge.

_________________

As you laid in bed the following evening, you stared at the ceiling still numb from Ivar’s revelation. Wessex! The way the words rolled of his tongue along with his smug smile made you sick to your stomach again. If you had the ability, you would have done anything to prevent Harald from departing Kattegat, but alas he was long gone. Now that it was evening, Ivar was busy entertaining guests at the lavish feast he had decided to throw at the last minute. In his Great Hall, he was happily celebrating his victory over you and your lover. Truly, you had never seen Ivar this genuinely happy in a long while. The only time he had been in such a good mood was when Bjorn had given him permission to marry you. Ivar’s smile had not left his face since Harald’s ship had departed. And it wasn’t the sinister smile as he typically displayed, he was TRULY happy.

As you lay on top of the furs, you clutched a silver cross that once hung form your neck - given to you by your Grandmother long ago. Ivar had forbid you to wear it any longer so you kept in hidden from him. You were determined to pray as many prayers as you could for sweet Herry. If God felt you were contrite enough and accepted your plea, perhaps he would save him by miracle.

___________

“Elizabeth. Come here a moment.” A tipsy Ivar beckoned to your little sister as she and a friend passed by his throne.

As she went to place her foot on the steps, Ivar motioned with his hand to one of the thralls who was beside him.

“You idiot! Do you not see she is with child?” He hissed as he furrowed his brow. “Help her before I toss you into the streets!”

The thrall apologized profusely as she rushed over to your sister and helped her up the steps that led to Ivar’s seat. As soon as Elizabeth was standing in front of him, Ivar angrily motioned for the thrall to get out of his presence. Turning back to your sister, he quickly softened his expression. She was truly glowing and radiated joy in both her mannerisms and expression. Her dainty hands were gently rested on her round belly as she smiled back at Ivar.

“Are you in need of something brother?” Elizabeth asked in her usual innocent manner.

“There is no need to be so far away. You are free to come closer.” Your husband beckoned as he sipped the last drops from his horn.

As he raised his hand for more mead, your sister obeyed his request. She went and stood directly in front of Ivar - as he brushed off the thrall who had finished pouring him more drink. He looked at Elizabeth and eyed her with fascination. The manner in which her petite frame now boasted heaving breasts, curves and a rounded belly, intrigued him. Indeed, Ivar thought for her to endure all these changes just to bear a child for Jonah, meant she truly loved him. Why could you not behave as she did…..Ivar pondered. Your sister always seemed accommodating to her husband and now, was giving him the ultimate gift.

Ivar stopped drinking his mead and reached out towards Elizabeth’s belly. Realizing that he wanted to feel the baby, she smiled and gently took his hand in hers. When she placed his palm on her stomach, Ivar’s eyes widened in amazement. He caressed her round and firm belly with a smile upon his face.

“It is…..remarkable.” He said as he looked up at her. “So, have they told you much longer you have?”

“Mother and the midwife say it should be five more months or so.” She sighed with a smile. “I must confess that I hope to deliver sooner than later. Being with child can be draining. I am often so tired, that I sleep more than I am awake.” She added with a giggle.

Across the Hall, sitting alone at a corner table, Jonah apprehensively watched as Ivar conversed with his wife. He feared your husband and for good reason. Ivar had the ability of taking even the happiest of occasions and destroying it in an instant with his temper. You brother-in-law hoped that whatever Ivar was speaking to Elizabeth about, would not result in something terrible being said or done. Jonah wasn’t the only person in the Hall eyeing Ivar with disdain. A quiet Hvitserk stole hateful glances at his little brother as well. Ubbe, who was seated next to him, understood why he felt animosity towards the youngest Ragnarsson.

Hvitserk, being a person who often doubted himself, had asked for advice about his desire to be with you. Naturally, Ubbe and Bjorn were the most trustworthy. With the eldest Ragnarsson living very far away, he wound up confessing everything to Ubbe, whom surprisingly, was supportive. He, like anyone else with common sense, could see how horribly Ivar treated you. Despite his constant remarks about ‘loving’ you, his actions seemed to betray his words. Ubbe only asked that Hvitserk be careful but did not discourage him from pursuing you. In fact, he supported the affair since it seemed to be the one thing that would make his brother happy.

Hvitserk sat, angered about Ivar’s plan to have you watch your lover die. Despite feeling jealousy over your lovesick demeanor, Hvitserk didn’t want you to be tormented. He loved you enough to even attempt speaking to Ivar about alternative punishments. Instead of killing the man, he suggested imprisoning him or sending him off to another kingdom as a mine worker. But it all fell on deaf ears. Ivar was hell bent on destroying your lover in the most brutal manner his dark mind could think of.

“Do you know that soon we shall be able to feel it kick?” Elizabeth said as she held Ivar’s hand over her belly. “I am so looking forward to it….though I hope it does not hurt.”

“I do not think you need to worry. It seems that you and Jonah are very blessed of the Gods.” Ivar replied. “While Y/N is….a constant thorn in my side.”

Ivar looked up your sister and smiled though he was envious. How could Jonah, a man with no power, title or great accolades be expecting a child? Whilst he, Ivar the Boneless, leader of the Great Heathen Army and son of Ragnar, be denied? You! He blamed you of course! Yes, indeed! Ivar knew that somehow, you had caused the Gods to not bless your home with a little one due to your affair. You chose to defile his marital bed and now, the consequences of your actions were being felt.

No matter. Ivar knew how make sure that there was atonement. The blood and flesh of Herry Forester would be food for the Viking Gods.

_____________

It took nearly two weeks, but Harald’s boat was finally spotted in the great distance. The news traveled across Kattegat like the wind and soon, you could hear Ivar’s voice as he gave instructions to his servants and men. There was to be an opulent feast to welcome the great Harald Finehair. As you worked on other household tasks, some thralls came to you with orders from Ivar. You were to ensure that a meal fit for a King awaited his friend in addition to assigning thralls to be at his beck and call. Truly, Ivar was sparing no expense in making Harald feel both missed and appreciated.

As you went about giving orders to the thralls and servants, you felt weak. You also developed a massive pain within your head that felt as if your skull was being crushed in a vice.

“I must remain calm and strong. There must be something I can say or do to save Herry.” You thought to yourself.”

Before your husband departed to go to the docks, he made certain to stop in your sewing room where he found you praying. Surprised that you still held out some faith in the midst of everything that was occurring, he laughed. Ivar thought you were insane for being so determined to beg your God for your lover’s life.

“Wife, despite your prayers, I do believe I am the one your so-called God has listened to.” He said with wide, pleased eyes. “He and my own Gods have blessed me. We are leaving to the docks but shall be home shortly for Harald’s welcoming. And please make certain that it is the most lavish feast I have thrown in a long while. I am in a……celebratory mood.”

For a moment, you contemplated stabbing Ivar with the knitting needle that you held in your hand as he turned to leave. He was far to pleased with himself and the glee he seemed to get from the impeding death of Herry made you detest him even more. Though you wanted to hurt him in that moment, you knew better. So, instead of attacking your husband, you laid the knitting needle down and cried.

_______________

At the docks, Ivar appeared to be the happiest man on earth as he sat upon a bench watching the ship pull ever closer to Kattegat. As he peered out over the waters, he flipped his axe over and over in anticipation of having Herry Forester standing in front of him in the flesh.

He wanted to see for himself, the man whom you wished to live happily ever after with and most likely bear his children. Ivar could only imagine the things you and Herry spoke about as you lay in his arms whilst he was away raiding. The thought of it all made him even happier that he had chosen to capture your lover. His jealousy was properly stoked as he threw his axe again.

“I see that you are very pleased.” Halfdan said as he leaned on a wooden beam.

“Oh, I am. Not only will I get my vengeance but I will make certain that his death is one that will honor the Gods.” Ivar said as he kept his eyes on the approaching ship.

Halfdan understood why Ivar was planning to kill the man but at the same time, he also felt bad for you. As he gazed into the sky, he contemplated all that was about to unfold once his brother’s ship docked.

Halfdan knew that you were a good woman and had seen how often his friend had mistreated you. Even as a Viking, he knew women would often find comfort in other man’s arms when they felt unloved or unappreciated. Though he wanted to advise Ivar of this, he understood that the young Ragnarsson was not like other men. He found offense in things too easily and was also quick-tempered. For that reason, Halfdan kept his opinion to himself.

As Ivar, Halfdan and some of their other friends awaited the ship that was still a bit off in the distance, Bjorn appeared. He came with news of an important meeting that was taking place about upcoming raids and newly discovered lands. It had been announced some time back but it appeared that Ivar had forgotten about it due to his focus being on your lover.

“But I am awaiting Harald to dock.” Your husband protested. “Go on without me and make my excuses.”

“Ivar this is important. The other leaders and Kings will take exception if all the Ragnarssons are not present.” Bjorn chided him. “Even I have come, despite living the furthest away. It is far too important. You must attend!”

Rolling his eyes, Ivar finally relented as he took up his crutch. Turning to Halfdan, he announced that they would attend the meeting but leave a good number of thralls and servants behind to welcome Harald home. After leaving instructions with some of his men, Ivar and Halfdan joined Bjorn to attend the meeting.

_________________

After the meeting had ended and all was decided about who would lead what garrisons and battalions, Ivar was quick to make haste back home. He was pleased to see that all the thralls and servants that had traveled with Harald were back on the estate premises. It meant that his friend and the mysterious Herry Forester were there as well.

Harald was outdoors in the canopied dining area after receiving a greeting fit for a King, as per Ivar’s orders. He had been lavishly bathed by thralls and now sat, busily eating foods befitting any royal.

“My dear friend. I am glad to see that the Gods have brought you back home safely.” Ivar said as he warmly greeted Harald.

“Good to see you as well.”

After Harald and his brother exchanged greetings and brotherly love, Ivar sat down with the two men.

“We shall celebrate your return in grand fashion tonight. So you should rest until then.”Ivar boasted.

“Your little ‘present’ is in the cell as you wanted.”

“How does he appear to you?” Ivar asked as he gave all his attention to Harald.

His inquisitive mind wanted to know more before setting eyes on your lover. In a way, he wanted the opinion of another man, perhaps to squelch his deep seeded insecurity. Pondering for a moment, Harald finally spoke.

“Well, when I first spotted him when they brought him aboard the ship, I was not surprised.”

“How so?” Ivar asked.

“Well, he seems to be the type that could make some women weak. Especially Christian women. He possesses a boyish appearance…. you know….soft face and all.”Harald said as he took a bite of roasted meat. “Typical weakness brought about through their odd breeding practices….I assume.”

“So he appears a weaker man than I?” Ivar asked as blue eyes got larger.

“By Gods yes! Our shield-maidens would utterly reject him on site.” Harald chuckled as a thrall poured him mead.

Ivar smiled upon hearing that his ‘rival’ was not as masculine or powerful in appearance as he was. To know that you had chosen a weak specimen of a man actually made him laugh. Especially, since your husband prided himself on being imposing and intimidating. As you passed by them with four thralls in tow, Ivar glanced at you. Though your eyes met, you ignored him and turned your head.

“Wife!” He barked. “Do you not see that our friend Harald has returned?”

You stopped walking, almost ready to burst from rage. His happy countenance as of late was frustrating to endure. Turning sharply towards your husband, you exhaled before you spoke.

“I have had the pleasure of welcoming dear Harald home already.” You said. “He arrived hours ago whilst you were away at the meeting after all. Or have you forgotten that you instructed me to care for him prior to your departure?” You asked with some annoyance.

“I truly suggest that you watch your tone Y/N.” Ivar said as he gazed at you. “I merely asked you one simple question. I am in no need of a speech. Am I understood?”

“You are understood.” You replied.

With that you turned on your heels and walked away with the four thralls scurrying behind you. Harald and Halfdan exchanged glances before they continued to eat and drink. Ivar on the other hand, continued to watch you as you walked away. What he was thinking about or planning, only he knew.

_______________

“Mistress, can you please follow me to the courtyard?” A thrall said as she nervously looked at you.

“But this is my alone time.” You replied. “I shall go for fresh air later.”

You continued to sew gold and sliver embellishments into the light blue over-tunic you were making for Sigurd. Since you were an amazing seamstress, you often found yourself making clothes for your brothers-in-law. The thrall swallowed hard before approaching you timidly.

“My Mistress, I do not mean to be so forward but I must insist. I was instructed to take you there by the Master.”

You stopped sewing and looked up at the thrall. She seemed tense as she waited for you to do as she asked.

“Fine.” You said as you put your things down. “Let us see what this is all about.”

__________________

Since the winter was lifting, the weather was pretty decent so you only donned your light cloak over your dress and skirts as you followed the thrall. You were unaware that your every move was being watched. In the high-tower, Ivar sat with Ubbe and Hvitserk, observing you as he had planned.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Ubbe asked as he poured himself some ale.

“Of course I am.” Ivar replied as he kept his eyes trained upon you. “I never do anything I am not certain of. Besides………..I have to see it for myself.”

What he wanted to ‘see for himself’ was the depth of your affection for Herry. Ivar had decided against meeting his prisoner face-to-face for the meantime. Instead, he wanted to lay eyes upon him from a distance. That was his reason for having you brought to the courtyard. To not only gaze upon his nemesis for the first time, but to witness your reaction to seeing him again. Most men would not have wanted to put themselves in that type of situation, but Ivar was an oddity. He was tormenting himself so that the execution would be far worse.

“This is absurd.” Hvisterk said as he watched you cross the courtyard. “Do you not realize that this will make her melancholy worse?”

“Melancholy?” Ivar scoffed. “Do not allow Y/N to fool you, brother. She is no wilting flower or tender-hearted woman. She is only upset that her plans to disgrace me did no come to fruition.

As he finished speaking, Ivar noted that some of his men were approaching you from the east-side of the estate. He waved Ubbe and Hvitserk forward so they could also witness what he was seeing.

_____________

The attractive Herry Forester walked between five guards as they led him towards where you and your thralls were sat. As he took notice of your form, your lover walked ahead of the men with a smile upon his face.

Since you had your back to them, he admired you a while before he finally called out to you. Upon hearing the voice you knew all too well, you froze. Slowly, you turned to see the man you loved and adored standing before you. You stood up and looked him over, still in shock at the sight. Surprisingly, Herry appeared to be in good spirits despite everything as he gazed into your eyes with deep affection.

You were utterly beside yourself with love and grief.

_______________

As he sat next to Ivar, Hvitserk watched with bated breath - his ears growing hot with jealously. Though he knew he should not be feeling so. You had been perfectly honest with him about your love for the man after all. Even when you had divulged the reason behind Ivar ordering you to be interrogated, you never held back about your devotion to Herry. So, like his little brother, all Hvitserk could do was watch the reunion unfold below him.

Ubbe, for his part, thought Ivar was insane for allowing you to be put in such a position. He knew that nothing good could come of it for either you nor Ivar. As much as the youngest Ragnarsson liked to make others believe that he was always in control of his emotions, Ubbe knew better. He knew that his little brother was underestimating the situation. Dark heart or not, watching the person you loved reunite with whom they really desired, would be a painful experience for anyone.

________________

“Herry!” You said as you finally ran to him.

Amazingly, the guards did not stop you. Since they had been instructed to allow you freedom of movement, they merely stood and watched. You embraced Herry tightly as he picked you up off your feet. You buried your face in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his flesh while running your fingers through his wavy hair. The two of you stayed that way for a good long while, pretending that the world had melted away.

As he set you down, you looked up at your lover with eyes that began welling with tears.

“I have missed you something fierce Y/N.” He said - his own eyes glistening with tears as well.

“Your beautiful hair.” You exclaimed with a weak smile upon your face. “It is flaxen now?”

Herry chuckled as you brushed his locks with your fingers. He stated that there was an older woman who had bleached it with ash and lye soap to help further his disguise.

“That worked out quite well, did it not love?” He said in jest as he laughed.

You hit him on his shoulder for his attempt at humor at such a serious time. Knowing your hatred of jesting during grave moments, Herry laughed at you even harder.

“Well, I see you have not changed.” He added.

“Oh, be quiet.” You playfully commanded as you gazed at him.

Placing your hands on each of his cheeks, you caressed his face as if you were touching him for the first time. He gazed down at you with adoration as you took in every little detail of his person. From the tiny light brown mole on his chin, to the stubble along his jawline.

“I am so, so very sorry, my love” You said as tears escaped your eyes. “I did not wish for you to ever be here again. If–”

"Well, I for one cannot say that I am entirely saddened to be back here.” He smiled weakly. “At least I have laid eyes upon you again. I was so miserable without you. Every day, I wondered if it was the day your ship would arrive.

You pulled his face to yours - touching foreheads as you began to cry. The two of you stood that way for at least two minutes before Herry perked your chin up with his finger.

“Y/N, you know that I love you.” He said tapping your chin gently. “Though things are quite dire, you are forgetting what we have always said. No regrets. Remember?”

“No regrets.” You echoed as the tears kept streaming down your face.

Herry took a kerchief from his leather vest and began wiping your face as if you were a child. He smiled at you while doing so, knowing that your love for him was as deep as his love for you.

_______

Ivar’s jaws were so tense that Ubbe feared he would erupt in a blind rage at any moment. He was in no mood for his brother to escalate things more than they already were. Before he could say a word to his little brother, Ivar spoke.

“Look how she dotes upon him with no shame.” He said both in envy and anger.

“You are the one who insisted on witnessing it.” An annoyed Ubbe replied. “What did you think was going to occur?”

“It is of no consequence now.” Ivar snapped. “I am finally ready to meet this so-called Herry face to face. I want him to hear of his impending death from my own lips.”

Hvitserk and Ubbe glanced at one another in silence. They knew Ivar’s desire to see you reunite with your lover had only added to his madness. And they also knew that it would lead to things become worse for everyone for the foreseeable future.

__________________

Herry was sat in his prison cell reading the Psalms from his family bible when he heard numerous people approaching. For some odd reason, Ivar had allowed his prisoner to keep his religious books. Not as a show of kindness, but as a display of his great power. He wanted you and Herry to know that despite all your bibles, prayers and crosses, none were a match for Ivar the Boneless!

As the cell door was unlocked by a guard, Herry looked up to see who was coming to pay him a visit.

“So, I finally get to meet the man and legend himself. Herry Forester!” Ivar smirked as he walked into the cell. “The thrall who seduced my wife and then absconded to Wessex with my coin.”

Herry looked at Ivar a moment, not shaken by his words. He knew your husband was a cruel man who prided himself in tormenting others. So, despite being a prisoner of a man feared by both Heathen and Christian alike, your lover was unmoved.

“I cannot seduce a woman who is mine freely.”

Ivar glared at Herry as he walked around him slowly. He did not like the composed manner in which your Christian lover spoke. Not only did he look Ivar straight in his eyes, he did not show an ounce of fear, despite his situation.

“Do you think I am a fool?” Ivar asked.

“No. Why would I think that?” A serene Herry replied.

Ivar’s jaw tensed. His anger was rising quickly as he looked upon the young man before him. Whether he cared to admit it or not, he envied Herry. Though he had no great family name, war accolades or wealth, he had something that Ivar had yet to capture. Your heart.

“If you do not think me a fool, why did you sleep with my wife and think there would be no punishment?” Ivar hissed. “

“I will be honest with you Prince Ivar. In my wildest dreams, I would have never thought that I would ever bed a married woman.” Herry said. “However, Y/N should have never been your wife to begin with.”

Ivar’s blue eyes widened at the young man’s bluntness.

“We were in love and intended to marry long before you took her by force.” Herry continued. “I have broken a commandment, that I know. My Lord and God will have to judge me for that. But I do not regret being with the woman I love. Neither you nor anyone else can ever make me feel different.”

Ivar’s nostrils flared and his brow furrowed as he got in Herry’s face. He had heard enough from the unapologetic Christian. He expected the young man to be begging for his life by now, not reaffirming his love for you.

“I am going to enjoy killing you.” Ivar hissed.

“Do what you must.” Herry replied never looking away from Ivar’s intense glare.

“You have done nothing but torment Y/N from the day you walked into her life. At least this time, I am the focus of your rage. You can kill me. But what she and I share is beyond this mortal world. She will always love me.” Herry added.

“Good. Then you can expect her to love you whilst you lay in your Christian grave.” Ivar said between gritted teeth.

“The Bible tells us that it is appointed for man to live once and then die to face judgment. I do not fear death.”

“We’ll see.” Ivar replied.

“Despite what you believe, you are not God! I will neither beg nor fear you Ivar. Believer or not, you shall also die one day and receive your own judgment.” Herry said as he clasped his hands in front of him.

Ivar began shaking with rage. So much so that his guards thought for certain he would kill the prisoner at that very moment. Before he lost control, your husband calmed himself. He backed out of the cell and had it locked again. As he stood in front of the bars looking at Herry, Ivar spit on the ground before he finally departed.

__________________

Ivar barged into your chamber nearly in the middle of the night after drinking with his brothers and friends. The only brother to make excuses that evening was Hvitserk; who did not think he could be around Ivar without it resulting in violence. As soon as your husband sat upon the bed to be undressed by the thralls, you spoke up.

“Please Ivar! I cannot live if you follow through.” You said holding in your tears. If there is anything you want me to do, I beg that you tell me. Please!” You added as you practically crawled to him. "With everything in me as a woman….I ask for mercy.”

You held onto one of his legs - covered by his metal brace. The coldness of the steel that helped your husband walk was as cold as his heart. Ivar looked down at you as if you were a madwoman that had wondered in off the streets.

“Let go of me Y/N.” He snapped. “I am tired and in need of rest.”

“Punish me instead!” You said as you began to weep.

Your heart began to feel as if it would stop beating from the pain. The thought of your sweet Herry dying in front of you was worse than anything you could imagine. How could you watch the life leave your lover’s body? It was just too much for your Christian sensibilities to handle. Still looking down at you, Ivar drew his face into a familiar scowl as his jaw tightened. His blue eyes became dark and full of a malice you had never seen before. It was the angriest you had seen your husband in a long while.

“Have you gone mad Y/N?” He shouted at you with his face turning red. “You are MY wife and you gave yourself to another. Now you beg upon your knees?” He seethed. “Do you know that you are making it worse for him? I shall give him a death that will make even the Gods tremble if you do not leave me be!”

“Ivar.” You said - tears falling uncontrollably. “I implore you not to kill him. Just imprison him for life. If anyone should suffer, let it be me.” Your voice shook with brokenness. “Kill me instead. I am the one who deceived you not–.”

“Shut up Y/N! Do you hear yourself right now?” Ivar shouted.

He could not believe what you were saying. Why were you so dedicated to a man who was nothing and owned nothing compared to him? He was a Ragnarsson and a Prince, not to mention a feared warrior. Herry was merely a former thrall that had made good use of the coin you gave him.

“So, you are willing to offer me your life for his without a second thought?” Ivar asked as he looked at you with disgust. “Listen and listen to me well Y/N, for I shall not repeat myself. You fucked this thrall while I was off raiding, never giving thought of praying for my safe return. Then, you had the gall to use my coin to hide him! Do you really suppose tears will suffice for all that?” He shook his head as if you had lost your senses. “Of course I’m going to kill him!”

______________

It was the night before Herry’s appointed death and you paced the floor of the Great Hall beside yourself with grief. Ivar had gone off somewhere with Halfdan, Harald and Ubbe leaving you to your own devices. You wanted desperately to see your lover one last time but you knew your husband’s men would never allow it. As you took a seat, utterly dejected, you heard footsteps approach.

“Come quickly Y/N.” Hvitserk beckoned.

When you looked at him, he knelt by you - dressed finely as if he had just returned from a feast or event.

“Where are we–.”

“There is no time for questions. Just trust me.”

Taking his hand, you allowed the Ragnarsson you had grown to trust and depend on, to lead you without question. It didn’t take long before your realized exactly where he was taking you. The tower where your dear Herry was being held. The two guards stopped you both when you arrived at the massive doors, however, Hvitserk took charge.

“You will allow us to pass, do I make myself clear? And if you repeat anything that you saw tonight, I will kill you both.” He said very calmly.

The men glanced at each other and then back at the Prince that stood before them. Shrugging, one stepped aside as the other opened up the large wood and metal door. Upon opening it, the one guard led the two of you to the cell where you found your lover awake looking out of the window into the night sky. The guard unlocked the metal cell door with a clank, which finally drew Herry’s attention. His face lit up upon seeing you.

Despite pain in his chest that felt worse than anything, Hvitserk stepped back.

“Go to him.” He said to you.

You looked back at the elder Ragnarsson and noted the forced smile upon his face. Touching his shoulder, you smiled with tears welling in your eyes.

“Thank you Hvitty.” You whispered.

___________

In the cell, you ran into Herry’s arms. He hugged you tightly as you both attempted to savor the moment. Without a second thought you broke the embrace and crashed your lips to his for the first time in months. The kiss was gentle, sweet and pure. His lips claimed yours as he practically swept you off your feet.

A solemn Hvitserk turned his back to the two of you and took a seat on a nearby stool. Everything in him hurt. It wasn’t a feeling he had ever felt before. He had his share of lovers but he never felt any pain when he lost them or saw them with another. But with you, it felt as if he was falling ill. Hvitserk gritted his teeth to keep from thinking about how only a few paces behind him, you were utterly happy in another man’s arms.

“I love you so much Herry.” You said. “Please forgive me for everything I have done to you to bring you to this wretched moment.”

He smiled as he brushed his lips against yours a moment before kissing you again. After breaking the kiss, Herry rubbed his thumb against your bottom lip and smiled.

“What is there for me to forgive my silly one? You have done nothing to me but love me unconditionally. Everything else is as God has allowed it.” He said before giving you a soft peck.

“I will always love you Herry.” You replied with a shaking voice. “I…..I shall kill myself so I can be with you.”

Hvitserk’s heart sank when he heard you state that you wanted to end your life.

“Do not say such things Y/N. You know that people who take their own life end up in purgatory and can never enter eternal rest. Do you wish to damn your soul and separate us for eternity?” Herry asked with a smile.

“No.” You hesitated. “I suppose not. It is just….I cannot live without you. You are my heart.”

“As you are mine.” He said as he pulled you closer. “That is why you must be a fighter. You dying as well will not solve anything. Remember, things will not always be so dire, you must believe that.”

Herry took your hand and kissed your fingertips and then playfully bit them as he had habit of doing. In spite of your sadness, you giggled in response. The two of you touched foreheads tenderly as you caressed his face - you fingers lightly dancing against his skin.

“I have prayed and committed my soul to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.” He said. “I feel an odd sense peace now.”

“I have been praying for you as well. Perhaps, we can still hold out for a miracle.”

“Let us not speak of miracles my sweet Y/N.” Herry said as he wrapped his arms around you and rested your head upon his shoulder. “Just let me hold you.”

_______________

In the courtyard of your husbands estate, you sat where the Viking priests had instructed. It was late in the afternoon and time for the Herry Forester to meet his maker. Numerous friends and acquaintances of your husband were sat around at tables, eating and drinking. As you sat numb to the world, you nervously twisted your black over-skirt - the entire outfit selected by Ivar. As for your husband, he was also donned in all black standing near a large table full of all manner of weaponry.

You winced as you saw how many instruments of torture were on display. Especially the large war axe that you knew Berserkers loved for it’s ability to mutilate the human body quickly. You overheard Ivar speaking to the priest who was sharpening a large dagger in a language you did not recognize. When he had finished, the priest unraveled his braids and allowed Ivar’s dark hair to cascade down his back and shoulders. The man then rubbed some dark-reddish powder throughout your husband’s locks. When he was done, the priest handed the dagger to Ivar. Walking to you upon his crutch, your husband stopped directly in front of you.

“Stand up, wife.” He commanded.

When you did as he asked, Ivar pressed his forehead to yours - his hair tickling your cheeks as the wind picked up. You then realized that he wasn’t merely pressing his head to yours for no reason, he was saying some words in the dialect you did not recognize. From the cadence of how he spoke, you surmised that he was likely offering a prayer to his Gods.

Hvitserk, who sat a few yards away with Ubbe and Sigurd, eyed Ivar with disdain. When your husband had finished the prayer, he suddenly held the curved dagger by it’s handle. The weapon was as pretty as it was deadly looking. It was engraved with runes so you assumed it was a ceremonial weapon of sorts. As his hair blew in the wind, Ivar’s blue eyes stared into yours a moment before he leaned to your ear.

“If you kill him, I shall not have the need to prolong his death.” He said. See, I have given you a choice.

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open but no words escaped. Ivar gave you a pleased look as you stood in utter shock. Your husband then managed to unravel one of your thick braids and used the dagger to cut a lock of your hair. He handed the strands to a priest and then cut a lock of his own hair in the same manner. When the priest had both of your hairs in his hand, he nodded and walked away. After that was complete, two thralls rushed over and rubbed some aromatic oils in Ivar’s hair before they quickly braided it.

The same scented oils were run along your already style hair as you stood motionless. Satisfied, one of the priests applied black ash on both of your foreheads in the form of a symbol - what it stood for, you did not know.

Ivar held on to the ceremonial dagger as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You began to shake as you felt your knees go weak. How could he expect you to kill the man you loved? The three priests walked to you and Ivar and began chanting in the unfamiliar dialect again while walking around you both in a circle. Your heart began to pound in your ears as you looked around and searched for where they were holding Herry.

You had not seen him since Hvitserk had taken you to him the night before. The nausea hit you as the priests continued walking around you and Ivar. For a brief moment, you looked at the dagger in your husband’s hand and contemplated using it on him. The man who had tormented you for nearly two years was within striking distance. Ivar’s guard was down as he stood beside you holding it loosely, focused on what the priests were saying.

But your husband was a perceptive man. Noticing the manner in which you were staring at the dagger and clenching your jaw, Ivar’s grip upon your waist tightened. He then leaned his mouth to your ear.

“What are you thinking, hmm?” He asked in a very calm tone. “I will not try to stop you. But know this Y/N, if you strike, you best kill me.”

You looked up into Ivar’s blue eyes that met yours with odd resolve. He stared at you as if he was challenging you to try to kill him. The intense, unwavering nature of his gaze finally made you look away. How did he know you so well that he could tell what you were thinking by merely by looking at you? It was as strange as it was unnerving.

Suddenly, some horns sounded and Herry was led past the gathered people towards the center of the courtyard. As soon as you saw your lover, you tried to go to him but Ivar pulled you back.

“Hold him there a moment.” A pleased Ivar commanded. “Behold everyone! Here is our Christian hero returned to us from Wessex. All in the name of love.” He shouted to the laughter of the Vikings around him.

Ivar laughed as he gazed at his rival for the last time. Indeed, Herry would no longer cause him any more grief.

Hvitserk shifted in his seat as he held his sword on his lap, quite tired of his brother’s show.

“What was it you said to me in the cell, Herry?” Ivar asked before he leaned over and placed a kiss upon your cheek. “Oh, I remember. You said that you appreciated that my rage was focused on you instead of Y/N.”

Herry glared at him but stood with his head held high.

“So what would you do if I was to decide to punish her instead?” Ivar said as he grabbed the back of your neck and raised the dagger.

Exposing the length of your neck by drawing you head backward, he placed the jagged blade against your throat as he glared into the eyes of the man he hated. Harald and Halfdan both looked at each other with some confusion before turning their attention back to Ivar’s display. Though he had a weapon at your neck, neither of them believed he would actually do anything.

However, the brothers were unsure of what their friend was trying to prove and did not care for it. Fortunately, they were not the only ones. The other Ragnarssons eyed Ivar cautiously in case his display was not merely for shock value. As for Hvitserk, he was thoroughly prepared to kill Ivar if need be.

“Do not harm her please.” Herry said with brokenness.

“Then get on your knees and beg me for her life!” Ivar hissed. “You told me that you would never beg me nor fear me. I want to see you do both.”

Without hesitation, Herry got on his knees.

“I beg you Prince Ivar, do not hurt Y/N. She does not deserve it.” He said. “You have me to do with as you see fit. Please, I ask you for mercy.”

Ivar chuckled, quite pleased with the manner in which his threat had caused distress to Herry. He glanced at you a moment before slowly pulling the dagger away. With a smug smile, your husband looked down at his prisoner.

“Well that was easy.” He said with satisfaction. “Now, it is time for you to meet your Christian God.”

You pulled yourself from Ivar’s grip and ran to Herry - kneeling on the ground before him. Sigurd, being perhaps the most sensitive of the Ragnarssons, watched with a heavy heart. He could not imagine how you were feeling. Hvitserk also felt bad, however, he wavered between jealousy and pity.

“Herry, do not worry about me. I should be the one begging for your life despite the fact that Ivar has a heart of stone.”

“As I have told you already, I have made my peace. Just promise me that you will always love me.” Herry said as he caressed your cheek.

Ivar frowned as he watched you behave as if the world was coming to an end.

“Y/N, you best kill him now or I will began dismembering him while alive and spread his parts all over Kattegat!” Your husband yelled at you.

Your heart raced as you looked into Herry’s eyes. He appeared to pity you instead of concerning himself with his impending death.

“Do not allow him to force you to kill me. I will take his punishment as it comes.”

“No!” You said as you grasped his tunic. “Are you mad? Do you want me to think about your last moments being that of gore and violence?”

“But…you cannot do it my love. It would be too much for you to live with. I know your kind heart too well.” Herry said as he gave you a faint smile.

“I cannot allow you to suffer but I also do not want to use my own hands to hurt you.”You said placing your forehead against his.

“Either say you will do it or I shall begin carving!” Ivar growled.

“I…I shall do it!” You said loudly as tears fell.

Ivar was inwardly happy with your decision. All along, he had wanted you to be the one to destroy your lover. He felt it was what you deserved for hurting him. A surprised Bjorn put his head down as he tapped the side of horn of mead. There was an uneasy silence as the guards grabbed Herry and began to lead him towards the table used for human sacrifice.

You did your best to hold onto his hand as long as possible until one of the guards finally had to pull you off. As he was being taken to his area of execution, Herry broke away from the guards suddenly. He rushed over to you with his eyes fixed upon yours and pulled you into one last kiss.

Ivar was livid and he shouted at his men to break up the scene before his eyes. The guards all hesitated a moment, seemingly astounded by the depth of the love between you. Once Herry was pulled away from you, Ivar walked over and placed the ceremonial dagger into your hand.

“If you hesitate Y/N, I will not give you a second attempt.” He said.

As you slowly walked over to your lover, who was laid on his back on the ceremonial table, Bjorn suddenly sauntered over to your side. Grabbing your wrist, your former Master and now brother-in-law whispered.

“Stick him between his jaw and earlobe. He will go rather quickly.” The elder Ragnarsson said and then pointed to the spot he spoke of.

You nodded slowly, in a bit of a daze as you held the dagger close to your chest. When you approached the table where Herry laid awaiting you, you legs went weak and you stumbled. Bjorn, who was still close by, caught you and rested you against himself. Being a caring person, he walked you over to the ceremonial table and stood beside you still allowing you to place your weight against him. In his heart, Bjorn felt as if everything occurring was his own fault. If he had only stuck to his initial denials to his little brother, you would have had a much happier life.

Your body trembled violently as you leaned over Herry and laid your head upon his chest. Your tears would not stop as you listened to his heart beating underneath your ear. A heart, that in moments, would beat no more. Bringing his hand to your head, Herry turned you to face him.

“Do not do it Y/N. It will break you.” He said as he peered into your eyes.

“I would do anything for you Herry. Even this.” You said. “I will be strong for both of us so that your death will not be painful.”

He smiled at you weakly as you caressed his face. Your heart felt utterly broken beyond comfort.

“I love you so much Herry.” You said as you studied his features.

“I love you too Y/N. More than you could ever comprehend.” He said with his beautiful smile beaming at you. “No regrets my love.”

“No regrets.” You replied.

Taking the ceremonial dagger, you glanced back at Bjorn who pointed to his neck again to show you the spot to hit. You exhaled deeply and looked down at Herry’s neck to find the right area as instructed by the eldest Ragnarsson. Once you spotted it, you leaned down and gave Herry once last kiss.

“That is enough! I–.”

Before Ivar could finish his words, you thrust the dagger swiftly into your lover’s neck, severing the artery just as Bjorn had instructed. Herry’s green eyes went wide as he looked into Y/C eyes with shock. You dropped the bloody dagger on the ground as you took his hand in yours and placed you face close to his.

“I am so, very sorry. Please do not hate me Herry.” You sobbed as you tried to comfort him the best you could. “It is all my fault.”

Hvitserk looked away. He could not bear to see you so distraught, even if it was over another man.

Sigurd and Ubbe both drank their mead by the mouthfuls as they attempted to drown out your sorrowful wails. As for the other Vikings, they seemed pleased with the death of a Christian. Especially at the hand of another supposed Christian. The irony of your ‘thou shalt not kill’ commandment made them laugh the more.

Herry did not make any painful noises as you expected. He kept looking into your eyes as the blood pooled underneath him and slowly slid down into a large wooden bowl located by the table. His breathing became shallow as he kept staring into your eyes. The light in his once bright green eyes, seemingly fading by the second.

“I see it. It is so very beautiful Y/N.” He muttered.

“I love you Herry. I will always love you.” You whimpered with your face against his.

Within seconds, your sweet Herry was no more. His body stilled and his eyes stared into yours but with no life behind them. You collapsed on top of him, kissing his lips and caressing his face as you wailed unlike anything the Vikings around you had seen before. You were utterly broken.

You could not recall what else had occurred between you collapsing on top of Herry’s body and when you awakened to find yourself being carried by Sigurd. He was relieved to see you open your eyes, as was Hvitserk who was walking alongside him. As your brother-in-law carried you away from the now festive atmosphere of your lover’s execution, you saw Ivar with the bowl that contained Herry’s blood. He was the first to dip his hands and taste of it before the rest of the Vikings would have their turn.

It was then you swore to one day leave Ivar no matter what the cost. If the two of you killed one another in the attempt, so be it.

____________

It had been nearly four months since Herry’s death and you had made certain that Ivar knew you would not lay with him. No matter what he said or did, you kept your word. To say your husband was sexually frustrated would have been an understatement. He became even more short tempered than he was already. However, you knew you had to come up with a plan since Ivar had begun ranting about his right to force himself upon you. Thinking long and hard, you came up with a solution you hoped would work. Taking great care to invite your little sister over for suppers and long walks, you slowly began introducing the subject of Ivar and your inability to ‘please’ him in the bed.

Despite Elizabeth’s good Christian girl persona, she was a woman first and foremost. Since having her son, you knew that she and Jonah’s sex life was not that great, according to her own words. You also knew that she found Ivar quite attractive and had seen her harmlessly flirt with him on many occasion. At one such supper, as you and your little sister ate alone, you finally decided to get to the point.

“You should perhaps try to relax more, or even try new positions in the bed. The man on top is wonderful but there is so much more, sister.” She suggested. “Please, do not think me naughty for saying it” She added with a giggle.

“No, that will not help the problem.” You replied. “What we are in need of is a…a convenient woman. Someone to lay with him since I am unable to at the present time.” You said as you eyed your sister.

Despite her shifting uncomfortably in her seat and sipping her wine quickly, Elizabeth did not interrupt you.

“Ivar is far too much man for me. I know we need another woman to please him but I just do not wish for it to be a stranger.” You paused. “That is why…..I want you, as my sister, to lay with him in my place.”

Elizabeth eyes shot to you. She could barely register what you had suggested.

“Now remember Lizzy, in the bible there are numerous mentions of women laying with married men at the behest of their wives.” You said as you tried to convince her. “It would not be deceitful since I am asking you to do it.”

To your utter relief, she did not throw her fork down and leave the table as you had thought. Instead, Elizabeth looked around and leaned closer over the table.

“But what of Jonah?” She asked. “Would I not be breaking my vows with him?”

“Oh heavens no. We are both married couples and you are not leaving him or philandering about. You are helping me to keep my marriage a happy one by fulfilling what I cannot in the bedchamber.” You replied. “There is no need to involve Jonah. Bedsides, Ivar is a man of privacy, he would want only the three of us to be in the know.”

Your sister was more excited than she wanted to let on. After mulling it over only a few minutes, she suddenly glanced up at you with a shy smile.

“I will do it.” She said.

_________________

After his return from visiting a nearby Kingdom with Halfdan, Bjorn and Harald, Ivar began drinking heavily again. Every night, he accused you of all manner of things, including being the reason he was being denied a baby. One such evening; when you had reminded him that he could father one with any woman in Kattegat; Ivar attempted to throw a large vessel of mead at your head. The only reason he was unable to do so was due to three thralls grabbing his arms. Indeed, Ivar had been on a rampage, the likes you had not seen.

Even Harald’s council did not soothe his inner beast. Due to his behavior, you tried to avoid him when he was at the estate. However, this only made things worse. He would go on tangents until frightened thralls searched you out and informed him of your whereabouts.

Regardless of what you were doing, whether it was merely sewing or watching the sunset over the waters of Kattegat, he would demand to be taken to your side. Despite you ignoring him, Ivar would seem content enough just being around you and eventually calm down. Your husband was behaving like a child afraid of their parent abandoning them and it was wearing on your nerves.

_____________

“You were too content with the idea of sleeping alone when I traveled with Bjorn.” He said in a drunken stupor one night. “Even if you cannot lay with me because of your issue, I am your husband; you should miss me!”

“What would you have me do Ivar? Go around mourning because you are not beside me every waking moment?”

“I no longer have patience for your sharp tongue Y/N! I do not know how many times I have to tell you this. One day, I shall cut it out and feed it to the dogs of Kattegat.” Ivar said.

He then produced his favorite knife from his side and placed the tip upon your cheek. You stared at him but said nothing.

The blade he held was quite sharp and you had seen him cut numerous thralls with it with little effort. Now, he had it pressed to your flesh as his drunken eyes glared at you.

“That is better.” He said with a frown upon his face. “I want you to speak to me as if love me as much as I love you.” He said as he blue eyes bore into yours. “Am I understood?”

“Of course.”

“Of course what?” Ivar hissed.

“Of course, my husband.”

Ivar smiled as he took the knife away from you flesh. He flurried it in his fingers a moment before returning it to his waist.

“I want you now.” He commanded as he drunkenly shoved you onto your back.

“Ivar, I have told you I have been suffering some women problems.” You protested with your lie.

Despite wanting to lay with you badly, Ivar scowled and rolled onto his back.

“I do have a solution though. Take this and I shall return.”

Ivar took the mead from your hand and began to drink as you stepped out of the bedchamber.

___________

You went straight off to the guest room your little sister always slept in when she visited and knocked. The way the two of you had figured things, it was only a matter of time before Ivar would demand sex and Elizabeth would be there to provide it. As you sister exited her chamber, she looked quite nervous. She was already wearing a red silk slip and over-slip in anticipation of you calling for her.

“It is time.” You said. “Do not be be so frightened Lizzy. He is merely a man.”

“I understand but I am still nervous.” She confessed. “What if he gets mad at the two of us for no reason and does something terrible?”

“Do not worry so much. Ivar is very drunk and very much in the mood for a woman’s touch.” You reassured her. “You will be fine.”

As you took your little sister’s hand in yours, you used the candle in your grasp to guide her back to your chambers.

__________

Ivar looked up when the two of you entered the chamber and gazed between you both for a moment. Immediately, he became perplexed.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked with his anger rising. “What is she doing here?”

“Ivar, my sweet husband. I have brought sweet Lizzy here to offer you release. She is willingly doing it to help us in our–.”

“You are pushing me to another woman? He asked with anger. “Is that how much you detest my touch?”

Comforting him, you caressed his cheek and kissed his lips sweetly.

“Of course not. It’s just that I know that Vikings do this all the time–”

“Stop comparing me to other men!” He hissed.

“I am sorry.” You soothed. “I merely meant that Lizzy wants to help you find some pleasure until I can give you what you need.”

Ivar looked into your eyes with mistrust as he gulped down more ale. He then looked over at Elizabeth who kept her eyes to the floor.

“Just for tonight.” He said as he glared at you. “I will not be pushed away Y/N. You are my wife, not Elizabeth!”

“Of course Ivar.” You replied as you kissed his cheek.

With that, you stood up and departed the chamber, quite pleased with yourself.

________

To say Elizabeth was excited to get in bed with Ivar the Boneless would have been an understatement. Ivar’s odd charms had managed to work their way into your little sister’s heart long ago. Aside from his good looks, she found his temperament exciting to be around especially since she was never on the receiving end of his cruelty. He seemed to treat her better than most people and even spoke with her more gently than he even spoke to you.

As the last of his clothes were removed by the thralls, Ivar barked at them to get out. As she stood looking at him, Elizabeth slowly began removing her garments as Ivar watched her from the bed. Instead of looking delighted however, Ivar’s expression changed to one of sad apprehension.

A nude Elizabeth slowly walked over to the bed and sat close to Ivar as he shifted on the furs. She was excited by toned frame as well as his manliness, which was overwhelming when compared to Jonah. Though she loved Jonah, your sister lusted after Ivar. You asking her to lay with him was not only a dream come true but something she had fantasied about numerous times. As she got on top of him, Elizabeth slowly rocked her mound against his semi erect cock. Unsure what to do at first, Ivar finally held her waist as he watched her move.

“I hope I am not hurting you.” She said as she felt herself become even more aroused - her whole body running hot.

She looked down at your husband who still seemed hesitant as his eyes darted around the room.

“Do not be so tense. I am a woman Ivar. No different than my sister.”

“Do not mention Y/N.” Ivar said as his eyes went dark.

Nodding, Elizabeth kept rotating her hips against him until he began to groan as his excitement grew. Then abruptly, Ivar tossed your sister off him. Stunned, she sat up in the bed and looked at your husband who seemed to be battling his emotions.

“Did I do something wrong?” Elizabeth asked. “Please let me know so I can make it better.”

A frustrated Ivar rolled his eyes as he threw himself onto his back.

“What is the matter?” You sister asked nervously. “Did I offend with my words?”

Ivar looked up at the ceiling a while before he finally spoke.

“You did not offend me so stop apologizing.” He said. “It is just that…I do not want you.”

Elizabeth was stunned. How could he reject her while she sat in front of him naked and ready to please him?

“But Ivar, I am here to give you anything you desire. Let me do what is required to make you feel good.” Elizabeth said as she kissed Ivar’s cheek. “You can just lay there while I—”

“No!” An increasingly upset Ivar said. “I just want to rest.”

With that Ivar rolled onto his side and covered himself with some furs. Though she felt quite rejected, Elizabeth cuddled up close to him as he tried to get comfortable.

“Ivar…..do you find me unattractive?” She asked.

Her pride was greatly wounded and she supposed that his rejection could have something to do with the few stretch marks from her pregnancy.

“You are not unattractive.” Ivar sighed as he closed his eyes. “I just want to be with my wife.”

________________

Two days later at your mother’s home, you sat in the main room embelishing a dress for her when she took a seat in front of you.

“I will help you do inventory when I am done with this, mother.”

“There will be no need for that dear. I have a girl that now does it for me on a regular basis.”

Your heart nearly stopped. You had purposely come to get your supply of herbs that had run out.

“But mother. Who knows the use of herbs like our family?” You said. “Besides, we have such a methodical way of arranging them.”

“My thrall has picked up on it quite nicely. You need not worry.” Your mother replied as she eyed you.

You were becoming agitated as you continued to sew. You had to figure out a way to get into her shop. To gather the herbs she had was both difficult and time consuming. Especially since they were spread all over Kattegat. With how Ivar had you under lock and key, there was no way you could ever gather them yourself even if you wanted to.

“Mother if—.”

“Why have you been lying to me Y/N?”

“Pardon?”

Your mother exhaled as she put her cup of honeyed water down.

“I know you have been stealing herbs from me.” She said. “Why did you feel the need to do such a thing?”

You stopped sewing and sighed as you put the dress to the side. It was time to come clean to your mother now that you had been caught.

“Mother, I am truly sorry but I thought you would not understand. I know how you feel about such herbs for Christian women.”

“That may be true but does that give you the right to commit the sin of stealing? She asked. “From your own mother of all people. Do you know how long it takes me and the thralls I’ve trained to find these specimens?”

“I am so–”

“Of course you do not know because you simply come here, pretend that you want to keep me company and steal what you need.”

You felt like a wicked person when you actually heard your mother speak of your actions. It was a bit cruel to visit her for the sole purpose of stealing herbs for your own use - never taking into account her time and effort to attain them.

“Mother forgive me but I was desperate.”

“But I am your mother. You should be able to tell me these things.” She sighed. “What do you suppose your violent husband would do to me if his servants were to ever find those herbs in your possession?”

“I never thought about–.”

“Do you realize that most females can recognize these herbs by looking at them?” She asked. “Do you think we are the only women on earth to have knowledge of ‘how not to hold seed’?”

You thought about all your mother had put to you and realized that you had been selfish with both her herbs as well as her well-being. It was true that if any thralls saw the herbs and reported back to Ivar, your mother would not necessarily be safe. Ivar was capable of anything and her being your mother didn’t mean he would not harm her.

“Look dear. I will not allow you anymore access to the shop.”

You looked around the room in a panic, wondering what to say to change her mind.

“However….” She continued. “I will make small batches for you and send them with one of my trusted thralls.” Your mother said holding up a little silver vial. “She’s very old and keeps to herself. The tinctures will come in something similar to this….easy to hide and appears to be jewelry to the untrained eye.”

“You mean….you will still help me?” You asked.

“Of course.” Your mother said. “After all, you are my daughter.”

__________________

“I do not understand.” You said as you began to pace. “Why must Ivar set you and your men in the center of the battle?”

Hvitserk smiled at you knowing you were worried about him losing his life on the battlefield.

A Viking King named Kol Oddsson had turned on some of Bjorn and Ivar’s men after they had helped in raiding a newly discovered settlement. Upon hearing the news, the other Viking leaders asked that swift justice be meted out. After all, they could not allow leaders to think that the breaking alliances would ever be tolerated.

With great planning by Ivar, Bjorn and the rest of the Ragnarssons, the tactics had been drawn-up to take war to the wayward King. They were all to depart in three days much to your concern.

“Do not worry Y/N. I believe that the Gods are on my side……at least for now.” Hvitserk said as he pulled you by your skirts towards him. “At any rate, if I fall in battle, I shall go to Valhalla to be with my father and the other great warriors.”

“Hvitserk!” You sharply looked at him with fire in your eyes. “If you speak of dying to me again, I shall leave you in this room by yourself! I do not wish to lose you regardless of what your beliefs are.”

Very touched at how much you cared, he pulled you to his lap and kissed you. His soft lips grazed yours as he pulled away.

“I have been mulling over some plans to get us away from Ivar. I know it will take time to thoroughly come up with a good enough one for him to not find us…but I am confidant.” Hvitserk said as he held your hand.

Your eyes twinkled as you looked at him. It was one of the best pieces of news you had received in a long time. You wanted nothing more than to be with Hvitserk as your husband. That was the closest to an ideal life you could dream up especially now that Herry was gone.

“I trust your mind Hvitty.” You said as you placed a gentle kiss upon his lips. “I will wait patiently. You know how much I have grown to care for you”

Hvitserk bit his lip at your words. He wanted desperately for you to say you loved him not merely ‘cared’ for him. However, he knew that you had lost Herry not long ago and you would not be so quick to confess such a thing. Since he loved you already, he was willing to wait to hear the three words whenever you were able to utter them.

“I love you Y/N.” He sighed. “And the time will come when I will have you all to myself. We will no longer have to tiptoe around Ivar’s madness.” He said before he kissed your cheek.

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Do not get comfortable with the idea so quickly. After all, I am a demanding man myself. You will earn your keep.” He teased. “As you promised, you will cook at least five meals a week yourself, despite us having servants. Oh, and of course you shall give me three children I can dote on.”

“Three?” You smiled with curiosity. “Why the odd number?

“I suppose I want one less than my mother had. Ivar was the fourth born, and well…….you see how that turned out.” He smirked.

You gave Hvitserk a passionate kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The two of you were stolen away in a new portion of the estate that had been built. The rooms were not yet fully decorated so no one really came there with the exception of decorators during the daytime. Hvitserk looked into your eyes with a passion that made your heart race. He was very much like Herry in how he cared for you. Because of this, you cared for the older Ragnarsson despite never even laying with him once.

“You better return to me in one piece.” You said as you caressed his hands that were intertwined with yours.

“I know why you are so desperate for me to survive.”

“Because I care for you of course.”

“That is not your only reason. I know for a fact that you lust after me.” He teased. “Do not think I have not noticed how you eye me at all times. If you do not control yourself, I will begin thinking that you are using me solely for my body, Y/N.”

You laughed at his remark as you stood so the two of you could return to the main portion of the estate. However, Hvitserk stopped you. Instead, he brought you back to his lap and tickled you mercilessly.

_________________

Despite what Hvitserk had said, you knew he was being put in a very dangerous position. Out of all his brothers and close friends, Ivar had Hvitserk in the center of the greatest amount of fighting. You could not understand how your husband could risk his brother’s life in such a fashion but not that of Halfdan and Harald. You knew telling Hvitserk to make Ivar change the battle plans would be fruitless. He did not care to ask for his little brother’s mercy and had already thrown his life into the hands of his Gods.

You, on the other hand, had the ability to get Ivar to do things for you. That was, if you actually took your time to be ‘nice’ to him. You cared for Hvitserk and if seducing Ivar meant saving his life, you would do so in a heartbeat. After all, you could do nothing to save Herry but Hvtiserk would not be put in an early grave due to Ivar’s whims. Not if you could help it!

“Ivar.” You said as you finally found him still seated in the empty Great Hall.

He looked at you with annoyance but other than that, he beckoned you forward. When you sat upon his lap, he was surprised and shifted in his seat. As you placed your arms around his neck, your husband looked at your with a grain of mistrust.

“What is it Y/N?” He said as he coldly eyed you. “You have never liked sitting on my lap before. Even when I try to pull you to me, you resist, but now you do so willingly?” He furrowed his brow as he finished speaking.

“I…I suppose you are correct. It is just that…..well…” You tried to find the best words as not to raise his suspicion. “I feel……the need to be touched now that my womanly issue is getting better.”

Ivar smirked at your revelation. But just as quickly, his face went serious.

“You toy with me.” He said as his nostrils flared and eyes became large. “I am in no mood for your games.”

Seeing you were losing control of him, you kept your voice serene and calm as you stroked the back of his neck with your fingers.

“I did not come to taunt you Ivar.” You said. “It has been a long while since I have felt….well….pleasure. Though I have given you permission to find comfort with Elizabeth, I myself grow anxious for comfort.”

Ivar’s eyes perked up as he brought his face closer to yours. He looked up at you in the same manner he did when he spotted you at Bjorn’s Great Hall.

You had to admit, when he wasn’t raging, Ivar could look at you with great devotion and love. Perhaps Bjorn was correct when he had told you that Ivar loved you more than anything in the entire world.

You pressed your lips to your husband’s own very gently as you cupped his face. As you pulled away, you looked into his blue eyes that were nearly wet with tears. Just like that, Ivar had melted in your hands.

“You know that I love you.” He whispered as he searched your Y/C eyes. “If you really mean it, I wish to come back to lay with you not just for tonight. He paused. “I have not found release elsewhere and you insisting that your sister comfort me is unfair.”

Ivar pulled you closer as he continued to look at you as if he was on the verge of crying.

“I understand and am sorry to have made you feel so.” You replied. “I thought that since other men–.”

“Stop that. How many time must I tell you that I am not like other men!” Ivar snapped. “I want to lay with you, my wife.” He paused. “I want you always with me, do you understand Y/N?”

“Yes.” You soothed him as you gently caressed the prickly hairs of his sideburns.

Ivar leaned forward and gave you a soft peck on your lips.

“Remember, I chose you.” He said. “When you constantly push me away, it wounds me.”

You leaned down and parted Ivar’s lips with yours. It didn’t take him long to become enthralled as he passionately kissed you back. His hands traveled from your waist to your breasts as he gently groped them a little roughly. He then slowly took his lips from yours and slid his tongue down your jawline to your neck. When he found your sensitive spot, on the crook of your neck, he began to give the flesh open mouth kisses and bites. Stopping abruptly, he stood you up from his lap.

“Come, let us go to our chamber.” Ivar said as he tapped you hip.

_____________

In your bed chamber, Ivar was undressed by thralls while you went to your jewelry box. You grabbed one of the small vials your mother had been sending to you with the tincture. Uncorking the tiny silver bottle, you swallowed the contents down quickly. By you the time got to the side of the bed, Ivar had already tossed all the thralls out of the room. You stood in front of him utterly naked with the exception of tiny silver waist chain that you often wore for vanity purposes.

After looking at you a while, Ivar took your hand and kissed it before pulling you down gently onto the bed. He laid you on your back slowly before rolling on top of you. When he was over you, your husband hovered a moment as he brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.

“I am so happy right now.” He said.

Ivar then leaned down and parted your lips sensually as he took you into a kiss. It was a needy and erotic one as he possessed your lips and tongue with his own. Moving from you lips, he went to your neck as he bit and sucked at the sensitive flesh leaving love bites from your neck to your shoulder. You fought the urge to moan as he positioned his nude body between your legs. As you laid there and allowed him to give you more open mouthed kisses on your neck, he cupped your right breast roughly. Immediately you sensed his excitement was increasing. The manner in which he groped your breast and the way his grinding increased in pace, you knew he would not be doing foreplay much longer.

You could feel Ivar’s erection pressed tightly against your mound as he began to breathe erratically. As you caressed his back, you could practically feel his excitement as heart thumped against you bare breasts. Crashing his lips to yours again, he slipped his hand in-between your bodies and grabbed his member. As his lips devoured yours, he slowly dragged his cock against your opening that was very ready for him. Despite how you felt about Ivar, the things he did always made your body betray you. It was as if your body had a mind of it’s own when it came to responding to your husband’s touch.

“Y/N.” Ivar whispered as his face was hovering over yours. “Open your eyes for me.

As you slowly opened your eyes despite not wanting to, Ivar continued to rub himself against your entrance - you tried your best to think of Hvitserk.

“That is better.” He said as he bit his lip to contain a moan. “Do not take your eyes off me. Alright?”

He gave you another quick kiss on your forehead as he pushed the tip of his member into your hot and slick entrance.

“Gods! I have missed you being in my arms.” He moaned as he gave you another long kiss.

As he was kissing you, Ivar took advantage of that moment to push himself inside you fully. In the midst of kissing him, you moaned into his mouth as the pain and pleasure overtook you. He broke the kiss and looked into your eyes before pressing his forehead to yours.

“That is it Y/N. Keep looking at me.” He said in a hushed tone. “I am going to give you a baby tonight.” He added before planting a kiss to your neck.

Ivar picked up the pace of his thrusting as he rested against your body fully. As he erotically thrust his cock deeply into you, he kissed you passionately. You both became covered in sweat within seconds. Though you tried your best to turn you head from him, your husband was relentless. His deep pounding of your womanhood and his breathless kisses quickly brought the familiar tingling to your pelvis. Intense heat rushed to your walls and clit and your orgasm began to build with sweet aching.

“Hvitserk.” You said in your mind - picturing the golden haired Ragnarsson on top of you.

“Y/N, I’m going to cum for you.” Ivar grunted against you ear.

As his hips began to move faster, he gripped your waist and placed is face against your cheek. He whimpered things in his native tongue as his orgasm took over his movements. You felt his cock twitch and then felt his hips stutter their pace as he groaned in your ear again. Ivar began pumping his hips frantically as his cock finally erupted within you - sending months of pent up seed deep within you.

The pace and the friction of his thrusts made your orgasm meet his. As you felt yourself go and your weak legs began to shake, you screamed out in ecstasy. It was one of your most intense orgasms ever as you envisioned Hvitserk on top of you instead of Ivar. Your husband’s orgasm lasted longer than yours as he kept thrusting long after your high had washed over you. He finally stopped moving and collapsed on top of you - hair and body wet as if someone had doused him with water.

“I love you Y/N.” He whispered breathlessly before drifting off to sleep.

__________

You were able to convince Ivar to move Hvitserk to his side prior to them leaving for the battle against King Kol Oddsson. Not only did your husband do as you asked willingly, he never questioned your reasoning or your inquisitiveness. He also informed you that after the battle, they were to head immediately into their raiding of the new lands, so you knew you would not see them again for a long while.

During their absence, you fell very ill. At first you ignored it and did your duties as always, hoping it would clear on it’s own. However, a few months later, it was still there and worse than before. You soon became too sick and weak to leave the estate so a healer had to be summoned by a servant to examine you in your chamber.

“You are not ill my dear woman, you are with child.” The excited old healer said as she finished examining you in your chamber. “At least three months along from the looks of it.”

“Tell no one of this!” You angrily demanded.

“Yes, Mistress.” The healer replied with a hint of fear

‘With Child’! The two words echoed in your mind as you began to feel a state of panic you had not felt in a long time. Hvitserk would leave you when he found out that you were carrying Ivar’s child.

How could it be? You had taken your tinctures everyday without fail. The concoction had never failed any woman in your homeland before. In fact, it was so strong that at higher concentrations, it even rendered women permanently infertile. The fact that Ivar had managed to seed you despite this time tested method made your heart sink. You felt as if your God had finally abandoned you for good. To allow you to be seeded by a man such as Ivar was a punishment only God could deliver. Perhaps, you deserved it for getting Herry killed.

Then another thought came to your mind. Your escape! If Ivar was a overly attentive to you now, the addition of a child would make things even worse. How would you be able to sneak out of Kattegat then? You sighed as your laid in your bed with your thoughts racing. How ironic. Despite all your actions, in the end, your husband had gotten his hearts desire. The fact that the men would be returning also crossed your mind. You wondered if you should risk killing the baby in the womb despite the danger to your person.

There were herbs that could accomplish the task but they were hard to find in Kattegat. The one person you knew that could get them, was your mother. However, she only gave them to Heathen women. She did not assist Christian women in destroying their babies in the womb due to God’s command. Since she was your only option and would never give them willingly, you had to be stealthy when you went to her home next.

“I will just steal them.” You affirmed to yourself as you yawned.

As your hand traced your stomach, you had an overwhelming desire to runaway with Hvitserk. How much more could you take of being around Ivar, the man who forced you to kill your first love? A man who also seemed intent on reducing your freedom of movement with each passing month. Your husband was controlling and possessive and it had not improved with time. Perhaps the plans that Hvisterk was making could be rushed somehow…you thought

“I will not be a mother to Ivar’s seed. He is wicked to the core and his children will be no different.” You said to yourself.

________________

“What do you mean?” You shouted at your mother in her living room.

You didn’t know what to do at her revelation. What was a person to do when they had been so betrayed? How could your own mother have put you in such a bad position? As you paced the floor, she watched you with a serene expression. When you had arrived at her home, she knew immediately that you were with child. She stated that it was noticeable due to your face and breasts rounding out. Then she also confessed that she had not been giving you the tincture as you thought.

“Think of it Y/N, you have not been fair to any of us. Every one of your actions results in other people getting hurt. These games you play with your insane husband had to come to an end eventually. I do not like him anymore than you do but we are stuck. The sooner you learn to adjust and accept it, the better it will be for everyone.”

“You lied to me mother!” You screamed. “You told me you were giving me what I asked for and now look at me. Nearly four months along with a evil man’s child!”

“I’m sorry I tricked dear you but it was the only way. Your decision making is getting people hurt. Look at what happened to poor Herry.”

“Don’t you dare bring up his name you……you witch!” You seethed as tears fell. “He was my heart and I would have done anything to prevent what happened if I could have. How dare you? You are a cruel woman and I do not ever wish to see you again. Do you hear me? Never!”

With that you stormed out of your mother’s home determined to cut her out of your life. She had only pretended to understand your need for the contraceptive tinctures. Every last one of the vials she had been sending her thrall to deliver merely contained a wellness concoction. It was her fault you were now with child for a man you wanted to kill half the time. No matter, you would figure things out on your own.

_______________

Over the next few weeks you tried everything to get the child out of your body. Since you could not gain help from your mother nor go to any healers, you tried your own remedies. You first tried to throw yourself down some stairs - which only resulted in a very bruised body and a sprained wrist. The next thing you attempted was to find Pennyroyal leaves on Ivar’s massive property. Though you lucked out and found some, it was a highly dangerous and toxic plant. The wrong dosage and you would die right along with the baby in your womb.

Still, you risked it. Unfortunately, all you earned for your careful dosing was two weeks in bed with a fever, cramps, fatigue and light bleeding from your private area. When the bleeding had occurred, you were initially very happy because you thought for certain that the baby would pass out of your body. However, the bleeding lasted only three days and stopped without anything else occurring.

While you were you were still recovering in bed, Ivar and the other men all returned to Kattegat. When he did not see you come to greet him at the docks, he was beyond livid. Despite his servants and thralls trying to speak to him, he shut them all down. Your husband returned to the estate in a violent mood as he set off looking for you. Finally, the eldest of his servants was able to calm him and finally get him to listen to what was occurring. All anyone knew was that you were sick and being cared for by healers, so that is what she told Ivar.

You had made sure that the healers kept their mouths shut and the two thralls who attended you in the chamber were threatened to keep quiet as well. A very concerned Ivar burst through the doors of your chambers without first taking his bath or eating.

“What is the matter with my wife?” He demanded

The healer that had been asleep by your side, rubbed his eyes and asked your husband to calm himself.

“Prince Ivar welcome. I have been caring for your wife due to her having severe symptoms. She is with child you see and it seems–”

Ivar’s blue eyes widened. He grabbed hold of the man’s tunic tightly as he tried to absorb the words.

“Say that again.” Ivar demanded.

“Your wife, she is with child. She has been suffering great maladies and other symptoms but other than that, she is well.”

Ivar rushed to your side as you slept and gazed at you with overwhelming happiness washing over him. He gently lifted the furs that were on you to get a better look at your form. As his eyes beheld your belly, that was quite rounded since you were nearing five months, Ivar’s eyes welled with tears. He then glanced at your face, which appeared peaceful in your slumbering state, before he got on the bed beside you. Your husband cuddled close to you and remained there a while, caressing you while you slept.

_____________

Three weeks later, you found yourself trying to not lose yet another good man. Hvitserk was enraged as you expected and not willing to be around you any longer.

“I will not come around you again and I want you to avoid me as well.” An angry Hvitserk said as the two of you stood in the courtyard

He had packed all his things from Ivar’s estate and was planning to spend his time in Ubbe and Torvi’s home. Since his home was being renovated, he would be at his elder brother’s place a good while.

“Please believe me when I say it is not wanted nor was it intentional.” You said with desperation.

Hvitserk glanced at you with fury in his eyes for a short moment before throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

No matter how much you asked him to calm down and look at you, he would not. He shook his head and refused to stand still. Even when you begged, he would not look you in the eyes again as he clenched his teeth and paced.

“I do not wish to listen to your stories any further. Why I am even here right now…I do not even know.”

“Hvitty, please.” You said on the verge of tears. “I did not mean for any of this to happen. My mother she–”

“I do not care for your excuses Y/N.” He interrupted. “You have hurt me more than I even care to say. Just stay with your husband! It is where you belong now. I must move on with my life and find a woman who can make me happy. You are surely not that person from what I can see.”

The words cut like a knife as you stood in front of the man you cared for whilst with child for his brother that you hated. It was a pathetic situation and you wished you had powers to change it all.

“Goodbye Y/N.” Hvisterk said without looking at you. “I will try to avoid you at all cost. Please do not make a scene by attempting to speak to me anytime we meet at events. When we gather as a family, I will keep my words short and curteous.”

With that, Hvitserk left you alone in the courtyard without a formal goodbye or even a second glance.

_____________

Ivar’s child would not be contained any longer. As you laid on your back trying to find comfort in your prayer, you could feel the tension in your hips and pelvic region as your contractions got closer together. Your heart raced as if you had just finished sprinting from one side of Kattegat to the other. Truly the pain was making it quite difficult to catch your breath as the midwives kept ordering you to breathe better.

“Breathe better? How the hell am I supposed to do that when I am in so much pain?”You thought as you cursed the women in your mind.

As sweat drenched your body, you realized that it was going to be a very difficult delivery, despite never birthing a child before. Ivar burst into the room upon his crutch and stood by one of the midwives for a moment. He felt guilt as he looked at you and realized how much discomfort you were in - your white gown practically see through from all your sweating.

Without hesitating further, he sat beside you on the bed and placed down his crutch. As you sat up with your legs wide open, you grunted as a wave of pain took over you for what seemed like an eternity. You turned and glanced at Ivar. If you had been yourself, you would have told him to sit in the chair but you were in too much pain to fuss with anyone. You could not believe that some women went through such pain ten or more times. This was your first and you wanted to rip the skin off your own thighs just to take your attention of the pain coming form between your legs. Even your back hurt as if someone had kicked you ferociously.

Ivar positioned you in front of him with no resistance from coming from you. You just wanted the baby to come out so you could have some relief. Finally, one of the midwives took a look under the linen sheet they had placed over your lower body for modesty.

“It looks like you will be ready to push soon.” She said as she smiled at you.

With that, she spread your legs apart, as wide as she could get them and placed a hand at the bottom of your opening. Feeling around, she looked up at you and smiled.

“The head has crowned. With three to five good pushed, you ought to work it out in no time.”

Ivar smiled at the news and kissed your sweat soaked cheek. However, you were too engrossed in your pain to even notice. You felt the worst amount of pain and burning coming from your private area as the baby’s head stretched your entrance to it’s limits. It was as if someone was holding both sides of your vagina and attempting to pull it in opposite directions.

“It hurts too much!” You shouted.

But you were in too much pain. No one heard a thing except a string of jumbled words that made no sense. Ivar held you close as you leaned against his chest, tossing your head from one side to the next as the pain became worse. The midwives would not allow you to push until they were ready and it was taking all your willpower to listen to them. Your mother suddenly entered with Elizabeth in tow. Grabbing a clean cloth, your mother took a seat beside you on the bed and began wiping your face. As she did so, you made sure to shoot her a glare, pain or not.

After all, it was her fault you were in the position you were in in first place. Her tricking you was wicked enough but to refuse to help you terminate the baby was even worse. She had forced your hand and you did not appreciate it at all.

“Why are you here?” You angrily snapped in-between the bouts of pain. “Get out!”

“She is your mother Y/N.” Ivar said as he tried to calm you.

“Mother, I want you to get out before I–.”

A massive sharp pain hit you and your words caught in your throat. Just then, someone you never expected to see again entered. Hvitserk walked in despite two female thralls attempting to stop him. His eyes went wide when he saw you and the state you were in. Without a word to anyone, he knelt at your bedside and took your hand in his. You could not believe that he was there in the flesh. After what he had said when you last saw him in the courtyard, you were certain that he hated you.

“What is the matter with her?” A worried Hvitserk asked Ivar. “She appears too weak.”

Your husband, who was scared despite giving the appearance of being calm, looked at his brother with helplessness.

“They will not let her push yet.” He replied.

“May I sit there?” Hvitserk motioned to your mother.

Your mother reluctantly gave up her position beside you in the bed to the worried Ragnarsson. Hvitserk sat beside you straightaway - not caring what Ivar would say or think. Luckily, the stress of the moment actually made your husband more open to having his elder brother around. He feared that you were dying based on your groans and weakening physical state.

“When will you let her push it out?” Ivar asked with concern. “She grows weaker by the minute.” He added nervously.

Hvitserk’s mind raced. If you were to die childbirth, he would never be able to forgive his brother. He knew that you never wanted to have children with Ivar and this was most likely the worst moment of your life. Soothing your head against his shoulder, Hvitserk whispered to you.

“Forgive me.” He said. “Please survive this so we can leave.”

“Okay Mistress, let us try to push this eager baby out.” One of the midwives finally announced loudly as she took her place in-between your legs.

Lifting the sheet, she spread your weak legs wider as you grabbed onto Hvitserk’s hand tightly. Ivar glanced at you and took your other hand. He knew you two were still not close despite you being with child, but he believed that once you saw the baby, things would change.

“Would you look at that. The head is nearly out on it’s own. It should take only a few pushes to get this little one free.” Another midwife said as she looked over the other’s shoulder.

“Why is there so much blood?” A worried Hvitserk asked as he saw some thralls taking away red stained cloths. “Hey! I am asking you question!” He seethed at the women.

“Calm yourself young Master.” The midwife between your legs said. “It is normal for some women to bleed excessively. She will be fine.”

Hvtiserk did not like her response but relented. He focused on comforting you instead. As he brushed your sweaty forehead with his hand, the elder Ragnarsson gazed at your pained expression. Ivar, who was also sat at your other side pressed his face to yours.

“Come on Y/N.” He said with his lips against your cheek. “You are stronger than even some of the men I know. You cannot not die on me. Please.”

At that moment, Ivar cared more about you leaving him alone in the world than he cared about becoming a father. The thought of you dying was more than he could handle. It frightened him so much that he was relieved that Hvitserk had arrived to share the burden. If not, he would have lost it in front of everyone long ago.

When the midwives finally told you to push, you thought you would not be able to do so, however, your body seemed to work on instinct. The moment you bared down, your muscles and nerves kept the rhythmic contractions going. After the third push, the baby’s head finally hung from your opening.

“Hey! There we are.” The midwife exclaimed. “What a great deal of hair this one has. And as black as a raven’s wing to boot.” The woman added with a laugh.

She then made sure the cord was not around the baby’s neck while you rested. The pain in your body eased a little now that the head had come out. Still you were eager to get it over with. You hated your mother for putting you in the situation and glared at her while she watched nervously over the midwife’s shoulders. As for Elizabeth, she appeared happy, however, she kept stealing glances at Ivar. Despite him rejecting her, your sister still harbored feelings towards him which made the moment that more difficult for her to witness.

After allowing you to rest a while longer, the women instructed you to push again. With five good pushes and Hvitserk practically taking over in encouraging and comforting you the entire time,….everyone finally heard it. Ivar’s child came into the world with a powerful cry that filled the room. He pulled your body to him and held you close as his eyes welled with tears. He could not believe it. The baby that boasted powerful lungs and seemed to please the midwives, was his. All his life the Gods had denied him so much but in that moment, he felt as if he could fight a thousand wars for them on his own.

“Be careful of how you take hold of Y/N. She is in a weakened state and still has more to do.” Hvisterk said as he took you from Ivar and rested your head against his chest.

“Of course.” Ivar replied with his eyes still beholding you with admiration.

“It’s a Princess for your two.” One of the midwives announced.

Ivar was elated as he looked at his brother with his excitement building. Hvitserk smiled and then looked down at you. He wasn’t sure if you had heard the woman but in that moment, he resolved to stick by your side. True, he had been furious with you, but now, none of it mattered. Hvisterk just wanted Ivar out of the picture so that the two of you could be happy. Surprisingly, when the flaxen haired Ragnarsson kissed your forehead, Ivar didn’t get upset. He actually smiled at his elder brother assuming that he was happy for the both of you.

The newborn was set upon a table so the midwives could look it over for any defects.

Ivar suddenly became afraid. His expression changed as he nervously held your hand and glanced to the floor. ‘I’m a cripple. Why did I not think about that fact all this while? He thought to himself. The thing he feared most was punishing a child to go through what he had. Ivar did not want his daughter to be like him and prayed that the Gods did not curse her with his affliction. As for your mother, despite your anger towards her, she put her hand to her mouth as she shed tears of joy at seeing her new grandchild. Utterly soaked in sweat, you were nearly asleep as you rested against Hvitserk, who rocked you gently. Ivar leaned over and kissed your cheek - excitement literately emanating from his very being. The midwife was headed towards him and he could barely contain himself. Ivar was apprehensive at first, but the woman reassured him before she carefully placed the newborn into his trembling hands.

“Meet your newborn daughter.” The old midwife said. “She is a beauty, if I have ever seen one. Strong like an ox too.”

“So she….she is healthy?” He asked with great concern upon his face.

“Not only is she healthy…..she is practically perfect.” The midwife assured him with a wink.

Ivar was relieved and awestruck as he stared at the tiny baby in his arms.

“I cannot believe how small she is.” He exclaimed as he admired her.

Ivar truly felt as if he was dreaming as he glanced over at your weakened frame for a moment. Taking the cord that still connected you and the crying little bundle in his arms, he bit through, severing it. Your husband then spit the blood onto the floor, as was Viking practice. He held his daughter close to his chest and ensured that the swaddling sheets were keeping her warm.

“Look at our daughter Y/N.” He beamed as he leaned closer to you. “She is so beautiful and amazing…like you.” Ivar said before planting a kiss upon your cheek.

You looked at the baby with eyes that were heavy with sleep. You could not believe that the child in Ivar’s arms was yours. It made the moment bittersweet as you tried your best to feel something for the innocent life. But as you glanced at Ivar, you knew the child could never grow into anything good. As you drifted off to sleep, Hvitserk glared at Ivar as he caressed your sweaty forehead. No matter what, he was determined more than ever to take you far away from Kattegat so you two could finally be free of his brother.

______________

People stopped and stared when they spotted Ivar the Boneless riding his horse drawn chariot swiftly through Kattegat. Utterly beside himself with joy, he had left you and his newborn daughter sleeping peacefully back home. Much too happy with his life to sit still, he guided his white horse at top speed while he screamed at the top of his lungs in celebration. He finally had what he had longed for - a happy family of his own.

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themildestofwriters · 5 years

Text

Because Tumblr’s going down the shitter tomorrow, I’m going to post a chapter of the up-coming novel “short”-story I’m writing, ‘The Weird and Wonderful Sexual Awakening of Babette Melwyn’. This is chapter four, six seven and follows Babette after having her sexual reawakening and deciding to experiment a bit more. Does it spoil what happens? Well, it was already a foregone conclusion anyway and this is only one part of the story which has quite a bit more then just the smut.Quite a bit more.

Anyway, on to the story!

Babette Visits Pandora’s Box

Breath—in, out. In, out.

My skin prickled uncomfortably, suffocating heat washing all over me. Like the pounding of war drums, my heart was hammering in my chest. I knew that, if anyone saw me, they would see bright-red blush across my countenance.

I didn’t want to here.

I really didn’t want to be here.

Of course, the option to leave was there. It would be so simple. Just turn around and walk away, but I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Indignant pride—along with incessant curiosity—kept me rooted in place. I survived hell and beyond, led armies, ruled an Empire and fought against everything from the Third Reich to the very gods themselves.

Yet… here I was, terrified. Petrified!

It infuriated me, how I felt, and it was all Josephine’s fault—or mother’s fault. It fluctuated now and then.

Weeks had passed since mother asked the question that changed everything, and it had been quite the journey. Now, here I was, standing before a building that was in no way discreet. It was only one story tall, sitting at a corner beside a few other stores—a mechanic and hardware retailer. Cement walls were painted black with a long and thick purple strip running through it, merging with a great eight-ball painted on its side; however, instead of there being an eight in the centre, there was an eighteen-plus. To finish it off, atop the flattened roof was a broad sign that read: Pandora’s Box Adult Store.

It was quite a distance from home, at least another suburb over. As sure as I was that it was far enough from school and home that I wouldn’t meet anyone I knew, the fear still lingered like a miasma. If I locked eyes with someone from school, a friend, a family member or, worse, Josephine herself, I knew I’d die from utter humiliation. That, or I’d bury myself somewhere on Pluto for the next century or two, at least until everyone who knew me was dead.

With that in mind, I took precautions. So, nobody would recognise me and hadn’t arrived as myself, per se.

Nobody walking by would see little Babette Melwyn visiting an adult store, no siree. Instead, they would see a man right out of a modern interpretation of Lord of the Rings. To put it simply, he looked like an elf—if a particularly strange elf—with a very thin and lanky frame, a strong aquiline nose that sat flush with his brow, and bright crimson eyes. His clothes were simple, a pair of plain black pants, a forest green shirt and a satchel that hung across his body. Finally, there was the black beanie that sat on his head, hiding a pair of long elfin ears.

I couldn’t remember the last time I used this form. In recent millennia, I hadn’t much use for it: No need to go undercover; no need to hide from the authorities; no songs to sing that simply sounded better with a masculine voice. I would have preferred a slightly different form from this—mostly because changing sex was a rather odd experience—but it was the only one I had that looked human enough and didn’t look a thing like me.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I adjusted my new clothes and began crossing the car park.

The streets were relatively empty, and I couldn’t see anyone out and about on a walk nearby, so my fears eased. Despite this, I still flung the entry door as open as I could and stepped inside as quick as I could. Unfortunately, in my haste, I almost slammed my face into another door a few feet away. Jerking back to save myself, I quickly noticed the large poster plastered on it—big bold letters declared a warning to minors, stating that this wasn’t the place for them.

Well, I’m certainly no minor, at least chronologically, though mentally? I mused. Completely different story.

I gave the poster a further few seconds of consideration before passing through.

The first thing I noticed was the front desk. A few advertisements and products decorated it here and there—lubricants and condoms mainly—but it wasn’t that which interested me, rather it was the human manning the desk who caught my eye.

I didn’t really know what I was expecting when I entered Pandora’s Box: A leering man with questionable stains on a rumbled spotted shirt; an Amazonian sex goddess with thighs that could crush skulls; or maybe the extravagantly dressed Madame who secretly owned a trafficking ring out back. There were many ideas and expectations I had when I first planned this trip. What I got instead was an old lady with greying hair who looked to be in her sixties or seventies. She wore modest clothes, a pale pink blouse with a short red cardigan over top.

It was… odd.

Nevertheless, what she looked like didn’t matter much at all to me. The fact that she was here, staring at me, however, was something else entirely.

She smiled, warm and welcomingly.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice as sweet as any grandmothers should.

“Hey,” I mumbled back, nerves and social ineptitude making it difficult to say much else.

I turned away quickly, wanting to forget she was even there, only to recoil in shock as the rest of the store revealed itself to me.

Just what in the Abyss had I gotten myself into?

Along the walls, hanging from hooks and on display in little island tables was an ungodly supply of dildos—some small, some so large I wondered how they’d even fit! There was more as well: lingerie, butt plugs, handcuffs, vibrators and so much more. Some of these things I couldn’t even name let alone determine their purpose.

Cheeks flared red and, much to my further embarrassment and dismay, I could feel my pants tighten. My eyes grew wide and for the next couple of seconds, all that went through my head was a steady stream of unholy screams and curses.

I had forgotten about that little fact.

I was biologically male and so I had to deal with all the aspects of being a male.

I took a deep breath and accepted that this was going to be my life for the next hour or so. Reluctantly, I began browsing, all the while attempting to reposition my newest appendage as subtly as I could. By Anu, it was uncomfortable.

As for what I was looking for, I didn’t want anything too fancy nor anything too big—just something to satisfy my curiosity—but it soon became apparent that I had absolutely no idea what I was looking for. Silicone versus rubber; double ended verses suction cup; veiny verses smooth; strap-on compatible verses that one weird dildo that looked more like featureless snowman: there were so many options to choose from that tackling size alone was its own chore, and I had no idea what any of it meant!

Oh, sure, I did spend a few weeks online researching the subject. I read a few articles about sex and masturbation, I learned that what I felt when with Josephine was “being horny” or “aroused”, and I’d seen many videos of people having sex. Yet nothing mentioned anything about the specifications of different dildos and what they meant. I didn’t even think this was going to be an issue! I just thought most of the different designs I’d seen were purely aesthetic based!

Unfortunately, it appeared my ignorance must have shown in some way as, after roughly ten minutes of staring at the shelves with confused horror etched on my face, a voice spoke.

“Would you like some help, dearie?” the old lady asked, her sweet voice unnervingly at odds with everything around her. In fact, the entire store felt off. It was quiet, casual. It was like I just walked into a convenience store but instead of lollies and Stanley knives, it sold riding crops and ball-gags.

I turned to the woman, trying my best to keep composure, and paused—at a complete loss for words. Should I ask for help? I had no idea. I didn’t want to look like some idiot, but I also didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.

Once again, I cursed my stupidity. Of course there would be different types of dildos, each with their own pros and cons, yet all I did was get off to watching those wretched videos.

After much deliberation, I decided “to hell with it” and accepted her aid.

“Yes, please,” I replied meekly.

She smiled tenderly and left the counter, soon joining my side. It was then I realised that I was an entire head taller than her, a completely useless fact that left me feeling uncomfortable for some inexplicable reason. “Do you know what you’re looking for exactly?”

“I—ah…” I wasn’t really sure how to reply to that. Should I just out and say it? Would that be socially accepted? Or would a euphemism be in order? I had no bloody idea. “I’m looking for… I’m looking for a dildo.”

“Is this your first time?” she asked, this time with a knowing.

First time? I blushed. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Don’t worry, dearie,” she said. “I’ll help you out.”

One misunderstanding and many uncomfortable questions later, I had my vibrator in hand. While I would have much preferred a normal dildo, it at least looked far less complicated than the other toys recommended. The entire vibrator verses dildo dichotomy confused me, but not being an expert left me little room to complain. Of course, getting to that point wasn’t easy nor fun. Not only did I realise how deep the well of my stupidity goes but I think I somehow convinced the old lady that I was trans. After all, how else are you supposed to explain away a man looking for a dildo to use on his vagina?

Soon after paying, I hid the vibrator away in my satchel and left the store as discreetly as possible.

Once out, I wandered around for a bit, eventually arriving at a wooded park nearby. Hiding among the trees, I made sure none were nearby before returning to my old skin.

Shapeshifting was a queer affair. Disorientation was always something to worry about if one was unaccustomed with the art or shifting into an unfamiliar body with different proportions. However, that was only a minor inconvenience for me as it was the shift itself that was more unusual. It was by no means painful or anything, it simply felt weird. It was as if my skin and bones were melting and reshaping again and again until my body fit what form I desired. The first to change was my height, becoming noticeably shorter; my shoulders narrowed; my hips widened; my chest expanded; features became less elvish and more feminine; and then finally, my eyes shifted from a red to vivid gold.

It only took a second at the most, but I was grateful that my body was mine once again. What’s more, the annoying erection was no more, yet I still felt the tingling of anticipation twisting in my gut below, aching for release.

I fought down a shiver and took a deep breath. Every thought I had went straight beck to the vibrator in my bag: what I would do with it; what it would do to me. I was eager, ready, but I couldn’t just fly home right now—I needed batteries.

After once again checking to see if the coast was clear, four great black wings burst from my back, tearing through my shirt. A few seconds, I launched into the sky, vanishing from sight moments later.

A short stop to buy an eight-pack of batteries later and I was on my way home.

I had the house all to myself, what with my family being out for the next few hours, so I had time to satiate my curiosity. There was a reason I chose today to go out to the store.

Locking the front door behind me, I silently set the alarm spell just in case anyone attempted to break in. I then retired to my room, closing and once again locking the door before flopping onto my bed.

I was home, all alone.

The strange aching sensation had tapered off during the flight, but now that I was back, all I could think about was the vibrator and what would come next.

Sitting up, I opened my satchel and removed my newly bought toy, still sitting inside the box it was sold in.

I removed the packaging and examined the purple disembodied member. It was roughly seven inches long, curved slightly, with a realistic mould of the male genitalia. Apparently, it was a high-quality product, not only being waterproof and made of silicone but also with seven different intensities to choose from. Let’s just hope it was worth every cent I spent.

I bit my lip, my legs squirming together as the tingling warmth began spreading throughout my body. I was eager—more than eager—to find out how it would feel. Fingers were one thing, but these were supposed to be ten times better.

I smirked despite myself. Everyone said masturbation was a healthy and natural thing, even my therapist, but their words still didn’t change how I felt. Masturbation was a dirty thing, so depraved and selfish in my mind; a taboo I had never considered, yet a taboo all the same. However, these thoughts only seemed to make the action all the more exciting as if to spite it all. It was a forbidden fruit, something I shamefully tasted once and was left only wanting more.

Quickly, I summoned a Shroud of Silence around my bedroom and got ready.

With the batteries placed inside, I quickly discarded my clothes—my beanie, hair tie, shoes and socks—and threw them onto the floor with everything else that wasn’t necessary.

Next came the tattered shirt. I didn’t really need it anymore and considering the fact that it was already ruined, I tore it off and threw the remains to the floor. Without a bra, I was left bare-chested, everything from my pale lavender-grey skin to my scars—some faint, some not—and my small breasts.

I looked down, I inspected myself—the dark room, a bright monochrome to my eyes. My body felt all warm and sensitive, hyper-aware of the tingling pressure below my navel begging to be attended to. My hands roved, tempted to simply forgoing the vibrator and take matters into my own hands. The slightest touch was like sparks of electricity to my skin, enticing.

I forced myself to stop, to think clearly. I crawled onto my bed. With pillows to act as a buffer, I leaned against the headboard and spread my legs. Absently, I summoned the vibrator to hand and… stopped.

This was the first time I had ever used anything aside from my fingers and pillow, and I had no idea what I was going to expect. Of course, I had seen videos of people using them but seeing and experiencing were two completely different things.

I pressed the button sitting flush with the black base of the vibrator and instantly the room was filled with a low hum.

I squirmed at the noise, the vibrations stimulating my imagination. My legs clamped shut and I could feel my body ache to feel the massaging touch of my new toy. Like tunnel vision, the vibrator was the only thing on my mind at the moment—the desire to feel it against me, inside me; the carnal pleasures it would bring. But before I began, curiosity pushed me further. I pressed the button a few more times, each rewarding me with a new and enticing setting that picked up in intensity until it was buzzing madly in hand.

My breath hitched and quickly I switched the thing off with a final press of the button.

By Anu, I would certainly not be using that setting tonight. That was far too… too potent. I smiled nevertheless, excited to see what this night would bring.

Relaxing against the headboard, I spread my legs once again.

Slowly, the fingers of my left hand ran down my body, past the tuft of silky black pubic hair before gliding over my warm mound. I wanted to ease myself in, not be overly hasty.

First, I started with my middle digit, circling my clitoris—each movement of my finger sending sparks of pleasure, some more often than not, flowing through my body. I varied myself, trying to find that right touch, that right rhythm to get the best effect. Sometimes I would slide my finger between slippery lips, delving deep into my warmth; at other times, I would use two or more fingers, playing with myself until my head became hazy.

The only constant was how deep my breathing became and how slick my fingers got. I felt as if I could go on and on, slowly building myself up and up until that bright flash of absolute paradise. It would be easy to give into temptation, but I stopped myself, huffing a deep breath as I did.

Bringing my fingers up for inspection, I saw they were glistening, lines of wetness connecting finger to finger like a spider’s web.

I blushed. I had never been so wet before.

I knew I was enthusiastic—shamefully so—but I didn’t expect this!

I stared, almost mesmerised by the lines of fluid that coated my fingers. I had seen video after video of men and women using their mouths and tongues, tasting the viscous juices of others. I wondered how it tasted—the girls surely looked like they were enjoying themselves from what I remember.

I tilted my head and, in a fit of impulse, brought my fingers to my lips, dragging my middle finger down my tongue.

The taste… it tasted kind of… I wasn’t sure.

There wasn’t much of a taste to be honest, perhaps a bit sweet? It was underwhelming, to be honest. It wasn’t ambrosia and I certainly wouldn’t drink a glass full. But, somehow… the thought that this was what a woman tasted like?

I wondered if this is what every woman tasted like or if it was different. Did Josephine taste this way? I didn’t know but I wanted to find out—to feel my tongue running along her slick lips, tasting every inch of her. I could almost see it when I closed my eyes, her body writhing beneath me; my tongue explored every inch of her.

I brought my fingers back to my mouth, slowly lapping up the remaining nectar from each digit. This was the closest I could ever get to Josephine and I savoured every last bit, moaning as I did. My tongue grew and reformed, becoming longer and pointed, wrapping around my fingers and tasting every last drop.

Only when I was done and there was none left did I sigh, deep and content. The taste wasn’t anything special but the thought of my tongue exploring Josephine’s depths just made it so… so… delectable. My body was already hot and bothered before, but now I could barely think straight.

I turned my attention back towards my vibrator and then down towards my vagina—aching heat calling desperately to be tended to.

Readjusting my grip, I turned it on to the lowest setting and brought it down slowly. The second it brushed against me, I jerked up, stifling a small cry—a powerful jolt of pleasure, intense and sudden, shooting through me.

It… um. I— I didn’t expect that…

Suppressing a grin, I repositioned myself and pressed against me again. Just like before, pleasure shot through me, but it was more than that—a near constant assault as I pressed it between my lips. The vibrator changed pitch, and I groaned and squirmed.

I tried to be quiet, but I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath.

“Fuck…” I groaned, beginning to move the head, watching it roam around my vulva. I never let it overstay its welcome, exploring around and between soaking lips to my sensitive clitoris and everywhere else. As I did, more jolts of pleasure racked through me, soliciting moan after moan, threatening to overwhelm me.

My head lulled back, eyes closed, as my free hand moved slid up my waist and ribs, tickling my side before cupping my breast. With thumb and finger, I teased myself, pinching my hardened nipple as fresh waves drowned me in carnal delight.

My groans became louder, hungrier. I could feel that presence below my navel growing and growing as time ticked by—tense, like a spring, as if it were ready to release at any moment.

I didn’t just want more, I needed more.

I pressed the button on the base and—

“By Anu!” I cried. My body arched suddenly, an entirely new world of ecstasy taking root. I pressed the button again and again, lost in my insatiable craving for more. “Oh, fuck!”

My mind blanked, the world around me darkening as I focused purely on myself and nothing else. I felt as if I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to. All I could think about was feeding my blind hedonism until I was left a drooling mess.

Pinching and teasing turned to rough kneading—my hand massaging and squeezing my small supple breast.

Soon, fantasies began filling my mind to tempt and stimulate. I remembered back to that particular video I watched—the one of the two women sharing in each other’s company. They would kiss deeply, their hands ever wandering, caressing, teasing. Soon, one girl began to kiss lower, down the other’s neck, past her breast and between her legs.

I couldn’t help but put myself in the other’s position, completely at the mercy to another’s masterful tongue.

But then the girl changed. No longer was she a blonde white woman taking deep pleasure in lapping up every inch of me. Instead, her skin turned a dark caramel, her hair curlier and now a deep chocolate brown. She looked at me, parting hair that obscured her face and—

My heart skipped a beat.

Josephine…

I could see her plain as day in my mind.

She crawled to me, slowly and seductively, her delicious arse swaying so tantalisingly as she did—her enthralling green eyes never wavering from mine. There was a look in those eyes, some unrestrained hunger that scared me, excited me and awoke something deep within me.

Pure bliss flooded every part of my body. I moaned her name, feeling shameful desire swirl at my desperation. That presence below my navel called out, demanding to be filled, and I obeyed.

My lips parted as I eased the vibrator in. First the head then, slowly, the rest of it began to fill me. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. Instantly, I was intoxicated, drunk on unabashed lust. I groaned loud—loud enough that, had anyone been home, they surely would have heard.

In and out, I pumped the vibrator, building speed as I yearned to feel more. My free hand soon joined it, massaging my clitoris as the vibrator continued to send wave after wave of crushing pleasure through me again and again and again.

My fantasy continued, Josephine’s splendour still in my mind.

I soaked up every last bit of her I could remember—her eyes, her skin, those lips. Oh, how I longed to feel those luscious lips upon my own, on my neck, on my breast, teasing me with teeth and tongue.

Down, down, down, down.

How I longed for those beautiful soft lips to mark me all the way down to between my legs—to feel her tongue dance a most wicked dance around and inside me, exploring my warm depths.

Oh, how I wanted her here.

I wanted her, I so desperately wanted her here it was frustrating. I wanted her here to make me her plaything. I wanted her here to ravage me so completely that I couldn’t think straight. I wanted her here to fuck me hard and rough until I was nothing more than an incoherent babbling mess in the palm of her hands.

I gasped.

My entire body seized up, legs slamming shut onto my hands. I clenched down hard onto my vibrator. My entire body rocked. Hips bucking wildly as absolute euphoria flooded my entire body.

I felt as if I was being shattered deep into my very core—a feeling so strong and intense it almost hurt.

Muffled whine turned whimpers tried desperately to be heard as white hot bliss shot through me again and again and again and again.

Jolt after jolt of agonising pleasure ruined me, never-ending and omnipresent. I could feel it building me up and up, just as before. Every inch of me felt so sensitive, like the slightest touch could send me spiralling down all over again.

I cried out, every last moan loudly declaring my depraved deeds to the world.

I couldn’t handle it. It was just too overwhelming.

I removed the vibrator as quickly as I could, fearing that I would break. The second its ravenous touch left, I surrendered to fatigue.

My heart raced. Blood thumped loudly in my ears. My breaths, long and laboured. I was utterly exhausted.

I laid there for a moment, trying to recover my lost strength. The buzzing of the vibrator continued but a quick spell later and all that could be heard was my heavy breaths.

That was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

It was just so… so… pure. So utterly all-consuming. I could barely describe it.

Slowly, my faculties returned. My mind became clearer and my breathing soon became more measured. When my body relinquished control back to me, I summoned the silenced vibrator to hand. I could still it vibrate against my hand and so I quickly cycled through the various settings and turned it off, placing it on my bedside.

I continued laying for a time, staring up at the cream ceiling as my muscles began to relax.

After a minute or so, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and quickly looked down, noticing a sudden wetness against my leg.

I frowned, cheeks flaring hot as I realised just how soaked I, and the bed, was. Not only were my thighs glossy with the clear coating of my release, but there was a large dark stain on my sheets, intermingling with the marks of sweat.

I sighed and reclined on my bed. It’d be a pain to clean up. Next time, definitely bring a towel.

Next time.

I smiled wistfully and turned to the veiny member sitting innocently on my bedside. There was no doubt that I wouldn’t be using it again.

But now? I need to clean up and probably have a bath. A nice warm bath.

#oc: babette melwyn #work: divine intervention

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noodlecupcakes · 7 years

Text

The Other Woman Chapter 6

Scream at me if you want to be added to the taglist

Warnings: Language, Violence, Walkers, Angry Negan

Chapter 6

Roxy’s P.O.V

Sherry had been smuggling me little bits of food while my points had been halved. Mainly candy bars and bags of chips, things you’d find in a vending machine. Either way I was grateful, but a little worried she might get into trouble and that was the last thing I wanted, people suffering for my mistakes. But now Clay’s points had been halved and I couldn’t have that. Fine, I’d give that mother fucker his apology but not for my sake.

I headed to his room, calming myself. I had to apologise and resist punching him in the face. I knocked on his door and forced a smile as he called me in. I closed the door behind me, meeting his gaze. “I wanted to apologise,” I forced the words out, hating myself for it. I had his full attention now although I really wanted to punch that smug smirk right off his face. “I’m sorry for what I said and how…disrespectful I was,” I continued. “What made you change your mind?” He asked. I grit my teeth. Oh gee I don’t know, maybe it was the fact that you came after my one friend, or maybe my significant weight loss or maybe even Sherry and Simon constantly nagging me to apologise to you.

“I guess I just came to my senses,” I lied. “About time you did. Now things aren’t quite going to go back to how they were just yet, I don’t trust you enough to go back out on runs. So until then you’re on watch duty. You think you can handle that?” “I’ve handled most things you’ve thrown at me so far,” I challenged. “You most certainly have.” “So my points and Clays go back to normal now?” “Yeah.” “Good.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Watch duty was fun as long as you remembered to bring something with you, mainly a book. Something to do at least. I was sat on the roof now, my legs dangling over the side, a book on my lap and a sniper rifle sat next to me. I still had yet to use it throughout the two weeks I had been up here. I didn’t see the point of wasting a bullet on just one walker so normally I would go down and take it out with my machete. And the only signs of people were those that were coming and going from runs.

I did kinda like it up here though, nobody came to bother me and I wasn’t stuck inside all day. Also up here I got to see who was sneaking around with who. Right now for example. There was a skinny blonde that seemed incredibly timed and paranoid talking to a guy that looked barely twenty. They kept looking around to see if anybody was watching them…funny how not once they looked up and spotted me. I was out of earshot to hear what they were saying but it was obvious they were in a relationship…or at least trying to keep said relationship a secret.

Then there were the guys who were meant to be working in the greenhouse area that were stood around talking and laughing about something. I’d spotted a few shoving things like tomatoes in their pockets at times. Seems like the last message about no stealing didn’t quite get through to them. Not that I cared. I was to keep watch to make sure the place stayed safe, that didn’t mean I had to be a snitch and tell Negan every damn thing I saw going on that he wouldn’t approve of.

Because damn there was a lot. Some of the other guys on watch with me would tend to slack off themselves, sneaking off to do whatever because they believed this place was invincible. No place was invincible. One day a build-up of walkers could get to much and a fence could cave. And if walkers got inside then sure we would be able to defend ourselves but someone would get bitten. That was inevitable. Or what if we got raided, again sure we would be able to defend ourselves but there would be casualties. That’s the way these things work.

I got to my feet and went to do a full circle of the roof, checking each fence. I reached the opposite end and cursed. Of course now we get a build-up and I was on duty alone because someone was slacking off yet again. I grabbed my radio and told whoever was listening that there was a code red. I waited thirty seconds for a response but nothing. I rolled my eyes, fine I’d sort it out myself. Thankfully I didn’t have to take the long route off the roof as there were some crates stacked high enough for me drop on to safely.

I left the rifle behind, why waste the bullets? I was perfectly capable. I landed on the top crate and climbed the rest of the way down until my feet were on solid ground. I ran to the gate, opening it and closing it behind me. I’d attracted the attention of a few walkers already and kicked the first one away from me and into the one behind it, both of them staggering back. I swung my machete down at the next closest one, cranium and black fluid spilling over the walkers face. I pulled the machete free and advanced on the next one.

By this point I had the attention of the entire build-up, which were now staggering towards me. It was about seven, but that’s ok, I could handle it. I heard a gunshot and then the bullet hit the ground, barely missing me. I glared at the male up on the roof, holding my rifle. Learn to aim asshole. I took out the next walker and was getting ready for the next when a barbed wire baseball bat came down, crushing its skull.

I turned to find Negan and he looked pissed. We too out the rest of the walkers together before heading back inside the gates. “What the fuck were you doing out there on your own?” He snapped. “I could have handled it. And besides I radioed through and nobody responded, also some people aren’t doing their fucking jobs hence why I just risked my ass.” “You could have taken your fucking gun!” “I didn’t want to waste the bullets.”

Negan sighed before taking a deep breath to calm himself, “I’m not mad at you. You were doing your fucking job. I’m mad because something bad could have happened to you because others weren’t.” “Negan I’m fine honestly. Don’t worry about it.” “Ok but what if it happens again and I’m not fucking here to save your ass? What then?” I sighed, I guess he would calm down in his own time. I guess it was better to have had his help taking the walkers out just in case something had gone wrong. Negan led me inside and radioed for the others who were meant to be on watch duty to meet us in his office.

Negan had an office? Fair enough. He led me to it, letting me into the small and simple room. There was a desk with various papers strewn across it and maps on the walls. He motioned for me to take the only seat in the room and I did a little cautiously. Eventually four men knocked and entered the office all looking a little nervous. Negan was still carrying a rather bloody Lucille after all. That and you could cut the tension with a freaking knife. “So how was watch duty going guys?” Negan asked, sarcasm evident in his tone. None of them answered, it was like watching a teacher lecture of bunch of school kids who were too scared to look up so they just gazed at their shoes instead. “Watch duty means you stay at your fucking post and keep watch for anything that might threaten what we have going on here. Now Roxy here is a fucking god send and you should all thank her for saving our asses today. You’re probably thinking oh it wasn’t that many fucking walkers what does it matter? It fucking matters when she’s the one risking her life on her own when there should have been help. Forget doing watch duty now, I clearly can’t fucking trust the lot of you, maybe you’d all be better of working the damn wall!”

I wanted to interject, telling him that it wouldn’t be necessary but I didn’t want his anger to be directed towards me. “Now how about you show some fucking gratitude to the woman that did your fucking jobs,” Negan ordered. In unison they mumbled a thank you to me before Negan sent them out. Negan seemed to relax a little once they left but I could tell he was still mad. I kinda wish he would send me away too. “Thank you for what you did today,” he spoke. “No need to thank me, just doing my job. But thank you for actually responding to the code red.”

He smiled at this and finally put Lucille down. “Consider today your last day on watch duty,” he spoke. “What am I supposed to do now?” “You're back to going out on runs sweetheart. That’s what you want isn’t it?” “I’m not sure-“ “Why not, we can use someone like you, you proved that today.” “How am I gonna be much of an addition to the hundreds of men you have already on runs?” “Well for one you actually do your fucking job. But if you’re not comfortable to go on the runs to places like The Hilltop and The Kingdom then you don’t have to go on those ones. Just the actually supply runs.”

I frowned, this was not the Negan I was used to. At all. A part of me still hated this man for what he had done prior to this job. Hated him for his morals and what he stood for. But he was being…nice. I had no idea this man was even capable of being nice to others. “Forgive me for being a little creeped out but you're being nice. I’m not exactly used to that,” I spoke. Negan laughed at this, not his usual sadistic, I’m laughing to creep you out laugh, this was a normal laugh. “I admit we haven’t exactly hit it off to a great start but I think we can change that. So what’dya say to the runs?” He asked. “Until I’m ready for the other runs that sounds fine to me.” “Great. Lucky for you I’m planning to go out on one tomorrow, you up for tagging along?” “I don’t see why not.” “In that case I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I took that as my cue to leave his office. It still felt weird that he was being nice to me but I guess if he continued I might not feel so much hate towards him. Who knew, maybe we could even become friendly.

Taglist: @astrangegirlsmind, @ladylorelitany, @grungedaddykinks, @mypapawinchester, @negandarylsatisfaction, @mwesterfeld1985, @warriorqueen1991, @isayweallgetdrunk, @jungle-feeveer, @negans-network, @fuck-yeah-lets-do-negan-ff, @slothdoll, @genevievedarcygranger, @shadesofarrogance, @jessie-cake1994-blog, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @jml509, @glittered-unicorn-lava

#Negan #Negan fanfiction #Neganxoc #NeganxRoxy #walking dead #walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan

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