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maple-the-awesome · 2 months

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The Chain Meets You, His Partner || 2/3

Part 1 || Part 3

Pairing: Hyrule, Sky, Wind x GN! Reader

Requested by @temporarilyablog: i see requests are open still so im coming to you with a thought i had recently:how about a Link from the Chain interacting with the reader, another Link's s/o from their original adventures, when *their* Link isn't around. i can see some teasing another Link with the reader that they've only known through little stories here and here, or others grilling the reader relentlessly because another Link was so shy about their relationship and partner, and wants to know how that Link is like around someone he allows himself to relax.its kinda like when the Chain met Malon for the first time and interacted with her for stories about old man Timeand as always stay awesome, i love your writing!

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Concerningly delighted or eerily eager - the Chain can’t quite agree on which descriptor best described their teammate the best once he realized they had all landed in his Hyrule. Bubbling with excitement ever since while maintaining a pace some of the other boys have to jog after, Link doesn’t waste breath saying where he’s leading them, although that giddy smile upon his face - as much as he tries to hide it - is plenty for the wiser heroes to get the hint…

Hyrule's time is 'rough around the edges', to put it easily, not that it can't be expected considering all the stories he's rather casually told the others about regarding both his world and adventures. Even the Kingdom's Castle - usually a centerpiece to the land - is beaten down and, in most aspects, less...impressive compared to what most of the heroes are accustomed to seeing, although for a simple traveler like Hyrule, it still holds quite a bit of significance.

"I just want to speak to the Sovereign before we move on - to let them know why I've been away," He rambles his explanation to the Chain, his outward emotions suddenly undergoing yet another change. His once untroubled smile becomes wary, his hands unstill as he fidgets with his sleeves. That prior excitement he had held when first suggesting they even go to the Castle has now turned into what the other heroes misjudge to be poorly hidden nerves, "I don't want them to be left assuming I'm dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Makes sense," Warrior nods, keeping a careful eye on Hyrule's behavior. Being a captain in charge of so many, he can spot a shift in confidence from a mile away, "You have been gone for a while."

"We're not going to be - I don't know - arrested on the spot or anything, right?" Legend asks, his focus more on the guards who maintain obvious glaring suspicions towards the group despite allowing them inside once confirming their famed hero's identity.

"Why would we be arrested?"

"You mentioned how much of a hardass your Sovereign can be," The Vet clarifies with a casual shrug, "And a paranoid one, too, if these guards leave anything to the imagination. Leaders like that don't usually need much reason to throw someone in a dungeon. Nine random heroes showing up while claiming to be from different timelines, all chasing some shadow lizard through magic portals? We'll sound insane."

Hyrule frowns and maybe even takes some offense to Legend's observations which is why his rebuttal is so swift, "They -...They aren't like that! The previous King died suddenly. They were forced to take on the throne without much notice and at a young age, too! After everything Ganon put this kingdom through - Of course they're going to be paranoid, but they're reasonable and fair. There's nothing to worry about. Besides, we don't have to mention the exact reasoning for our meeting. I just...I would just like to see them while I can…"

The red on Hyrule's cheeks would've no doubt been noticed if not for the Chain's collective attention being stolen elsewhere, focused upon a pair of large doors that open into the Castle's throne room. Inside, a series of guards line the walls and at the opposite end sits the very subject of their conversation.

Your expression is stern and cold as you sit upon your claim dressed in expensive, colorful garments fitting for a proper monarch of your time. The golden crown upon your head shimmers in torch light, yet its glow is quickly outshined by your eyes which go wide with delight once you recognize your hero amongst this crowd of ragtag travelers.

"Link…!" In an instant, you rise, your smile as grand as your divine beauty. Whether you gracefully walk or float down the stairs, there would be no visual difference. What is true is that you meet Hyrule at the bottom of those four measly steps, welcoming him with a strong embrace he's eager to return.

"...Your Majesty..." He doesn't realize just how quiet his voice is, whispered beside your ear as he forgets about the world while in your arms again. Oh, how he's missed this feeling!

The Chain is left in awe - No, it would be more accurate to say they're completely dumbfounded. Hyrule has always spoken favorably about the Royal Family of his time, tying especially pleasant compliments to the kingdom’s head. As stern as he admits you can appear, only good things have been attached to your name from your wise leadership to the love you hold towards your people, however not once - not a single murmur or breath - had ever dared mention your very apparent fondness for each other which certainly goes beyond the ordinary relationship of a monarch and their realm’s savior.

Even after your embrace, it's obvious that you hold nothing except the greatest of affections towards your hero. You look at him as if he's the sun that gives your kingdom life; the courage that keeps you going despite such challenging times. Hyrule's, of course, no better when it comes to you. It's not until now that his friend's realize they're previous mistake in assuming he was afraid to see you. No, that wasn't fear before, it was shyness. The thought of you had him feeling both delighted and sheepish. Now that he's here, though, his grin is uncontrollable.

"Your Majesty, I'd like to meet the friends I've been traveling with -"

"- A Sovereign?! You're dating the freaking Sovereign and you didn't think to mention that small detail earlier?!" Legend suddenly shouts, demolishing the silence that had befallen the Chain.

He can’t help it! He feels utterly scammed! Hyrule had told everyone a great deal about his kingdom’s Sovereign, yet had only confessed to his predecessor during a late night heart-to-heart that he holds deep feelings towards a mysterious someone back home; someone he fears telling of his secret endearment. Not once - Not a single damn time - had he so much as let on that they’re the same person!

Legend isn’t sure what strikes his nerves more: the fact that Hyrule would be dumb enough not to add the important context that it’s royalty he’s in love with or that he’s dense enough to somehow believe you don’t love him back despite it being clear you’re totally whipped for him! Is he blind? Completely and utterly dull in the brain?!

Poor Hyrule's whole face explodes in red after Legend's outburst, and his condition is made no better when the others add in their own comments to this already awkward situation.

"Now it makes sense why you wanted to come here so badly," Wild nods in understanding, having previously been confused as to why Hyrule would care to go out of his way to let the royal family know of his whereabouts if he had no ties to them.

"To think our humble traveler could land a monarch. I mean, good for you and all," Warrior crosses his arms with a smirk, hoping to mask his slight jealousy.

The Traveler is left stammering for a response, finding himself suddenly overwhelmed.

"‘Dating’? Well, this is certainly news to me," You frown with a hand placed delicately above your heart. Turning to your hero, you can only look betrayed, "Link, I would've hoped you'd tell me. I could've cleared more of my schedule to be with you in that case."

"E-EH?!"

"And all those suitors the advisors have been arranging - I’ll have to tell them to abandon their efforts! Excellent, seeing as I didn’t truly care for their match-making attempts,” You huff, not giving Hyrule anytime to explain himself as you get right to business, waving your maid over to make a note, “But that should free up a considerable amount of my time…Will you and your friends be staying long? I can have the kitchen staff whip up a nice feast for later if you do.”

“Um -”

“- Can we?! My feet are aching!” Wind whines, practically deflating on the spot. The only thing holding him up is Warrior who scowls at his poor manners and forces him to stand upright.

Time is quick to step in front of the group and bow, hoping you dismiss their lack of grace, “If you don’t mind, Your Majesty. We wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“Not at all. It isn't often that we receive guests. I’ll have word sent to the kitchen right away. In the meantime, Lady Impa here can show you to a room where you may rest,” You finish writing on the paper she holds, allowing her to take both the paper and quill before once again giving your full attention to the travelers, “I have a meeting with the Zora Queen in precisely ten minutes, but following that the rest of my afternoon should be clear.”

You then face Hyrule, smirking at his flustered state, “Once that meeting is over, my time is yours, Link, if you wish to fill me in on your recent endeavors. I must say, I’m particularly interested in learning just how long we’ve supposedly been dating for.”

“...R - Right…Of course…” The poor boy squeaks, unable to process many thoughts beyond the feeling of his face overheating when you press a quick kiss to his cheek before leaving the room with your guards. Even the weight of Legend’s arm over his shoulder is barely enough to break him from his trance when the past hero leans in with a smug whisper:

“You’re welcome, buddy.”

From the moment he first stepped through that last portal, Sky has been radiating with pure glee. Anyone could understand why. He’s finally returned to Skyloft, a place he’s been missing so dearly ever since the start of this adventure months ago. Of course, home isn’t the only thing he’s been dying to be apart from.

Most of the other Links have long taken notice to Sky’s heartache which has been poorly hidden behind dreary melodies played on his harp and heaps of carved projects to distract from lonesome silence; somebody’s been on his mind, their absences from his life slowly driving him insane despite his efforts to remain focused.

That said, it’s no wonder that Sky is excited to be home again, moving at a hasty pace some assumed he’d be incapable of. Even the jolly greetings and curious questions from locals don’t slow him down much, his steps swift in bringing him to the doorstep of a brightly colored home no different from the many others that surround it, but it’s still special for what it holds inside.

There’s a short internal debate to be seen on Sky’s face - one where he hesitates to open the door because wouldn’t that be rude to simply invite himself into someone else’s house unannounced? Then again, it’s not like proper manners have ever stopped him before, and they won’t start today. He decides to impatiently let himself in. Forgiveness can be sought after later.

Every ache of his travel-worn body and each gloomy thought surrounding his collective adventures melt away like magic by the mere sight of you. You must’ve just been about to leave - that or you recently arrived home, because you’re still in your knight’s uniform, caught mid-adjusting your belt when you look up at the man standing in your doorway.

Surprised for sure, yet it’s also a welcomed feeling when you rush to meet your lover half-way. There’s no words for the amount of joy you feel in holding him tight, possibly even shedding a few tears as he decorates your face in dozens of butterfly kisses, one for each second he’s thought of you while apart.

It takes some time and a loud clearing of someone’s throat for the Hero of Sky to remember his companions who all wait awkwardly around the doorway. Even when snapped out of his trance, he’s still grinning ear-to-ear like a lovestruck fool, his arm unmoving from where it remains wrapped around your waist as he introduces you.

Needless to say, it’s nice to finally be able to put a face to the name sighed so often. You’re sociable and polite, yet if that sword upon your back is any indication, you must be a strong fighter to have secured yourself a position amongst the knights of Skyloft.

To the Chain’s luck, it turns out you had just arrived home which grants them plenty of time to bend your ear. They have lots of questions, their curiosity only being natural since your place on the timeline is so different from their own. They ask about your life in the clouds, job as a knight, and most importantly, your relationship with Sky who’s thrilled to expand upon such a wonderful topic himself by sharing his own honored memories.

“‘seems our Skylofian here is truly whipped,” Twilight chuckles at the end of Sky’s latest story, although truthfully he’s starting to have trouble hiding his boredom.

At this point, Sky’s been rambling about his affections towards you for well over an hour, sparing no detail from your first meeting as children to practically each and every date you’ve shared since becoming more than friends. As happy as the boys are for him - truly, they are - they do have their limits for how much lovey-dovey they can take in one day. Legend in particular looks like he’s seconds away from banging his head against the table.

“I am~” Sky exhales lovingly while staring at you with hearts in his eyes. You find his attention endearing and give his hand a squeeze as it sits intertwined with yours on your lap.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Time queries, half-teasing and half-genuine.

“Oh, I don’t know…” You scratch the back of your head bashfully, but when your attention falls back to Sky, you find him still staring at you, this time with a pout no different from a baby remlit’s. Rolling your eyes, you lean into him with a dramatized sigh, “He’d have to ask me first, but I’m hoping being around you eight will give him the courage to do so soon. We’re only getting older, after all.”

“Why drag your feet? You’re clearly in love.”

“You’ve got a willin’ partner right here. No need to hesitate.”

“You know, we’ve passed a few merchants who sell rings during our journey.”

“Yeah, cheaply made ones. If you want something fancy, Castle Town is the place to go.”

“Not too fancy. A simple yet well-thought out gesture can go a long way.”

“A strong protection spell wouldn’t hurt, though.”

“I know a Gerudo who handcrafts the most beautiful jewelry. If we end up in my Hyrule, I could introduce you.”

“Oh, or Tetra’s crew has a TON of jewelry! Maybe you can find a nice ring in their stash?”

Sky laughs awkwardly as the other heroes suddenly bombard him with their ‘helpful’ suggestions, chattering away as they begin putting together the pieces for a proper proposal. When he glances your way, you’re not-so-subtly hiding your amused smile behind your hand, clearly looking forward to whatever plan they end up holding him to later. Hopefully, you won’t have to wait long to find out.

Wind’s destination isn’t too far from the last portal opened which is good because the others have a hard time keeping up with the younger boy who effortlessly dashes across the deep sand-covered beach, heading directly to one of the few huts on this small island they’ve found themselves on.

He doesn’t wait for his companions to catch up. He might not have even noticed they fell behind. His focus is primarily on reaching home, practically overboiling with excitement at the prospect of seeing his family again. It’s always a relief for his dear grandmother to see him safe, shedding many tears as she hugs her grandson with a grip unthought of for a little old woman.

Wind’s grandmother has a list of questions she asks at the speed of light which must not be unusual seeing as he answers each just as skillfully, telling her where he’s been, who he’s been with, and confirming that yes, he’s well fed. Of course, it’s only natural that the same questions are also asked of each and every hero who steps through her front door, after all, curiosity is second only to her naturally nurturing spirit. Who cares how old some of them are? No matter the age, they’re no different than her grandson in her eyes!

A sudden shrill of jubilation scares the group half to death mere milliseconds before a small girl comes racing through the front door, leaping into her older brother’s arms with similar cries about how much she’s missed him. She’s followed by another adult who’s much calmer in their approach, yet nevertheless gleefully smiling as they eagerly accept their turn in hugging the teen while welcoming him home.

You attend to Wind tenderly, quickly pulling away from the hug to check over his face and account for any new scars. Your hand then lingers on his cheek as you sigh at his smiled reassurances, looking down upon him with an amount of love and care not too far off from how his own grandmother had.

It’s only after ensuring his well-being that you address his traveling companions. You’re barely fazed by the large group when you introduce yourself, having become accustomed to Wind’s strange ability to make friends with almost anyone during his adventures. They seem to be a bunch of respectable young men, anyway, judging on their politeness, and as you tell them, friends of Wind’s are always welcomed.

After introductions - which are short seeing as most in this room share the same name - Wind’s grandmother suggests a tour be given to your visitors. Being such a small community on a more lonesome edge of the map, newcomers are rare, so Wind and Aryall immediately leap at the chance to show their new friends around the island that they love. Who would you be to deny their adorable puppy-dog eyes?

Realistically, there isn’t that much to see aside from a few landmarks, interesting locals, and a population of chubby pigs, however if there’s any benefit to being surrounded by an ocean, it’s that there’s lots of good places to swim and seeing as most of the Links are long overdue for some quality time spent as normal teenagers, they’re happy for the break.

Most of the boys partake in jumping from the rocks to see who can create the biggest splash, although Legend and Sky favor staying on land to help Aryall build a sandcastle for her seagull friends. You, meanwhile, relax in the sun, keeping a careful eye on all activities which has simply become second nature to you at this point. While Wind may be a fourteen-year-old who has sailed across the entire ocean, you don’t think you’ll ever stop worrying for his safety.

“Those kids seem rather fond of you.”

You glance up to the oldest Link of the group - you believe you heard the other’s refer to him as ‘Time’ - as he invites himself to sit next to you in the sand. Despite several pleas for the other boys, he had turned down their attempts at getting him in the water. Maybe for the best, since they’re now starting to toss each other off the rocks.

“I would hope so. I’ve known them both since before they could walk.”

“I take it you’re their guardian?”

Humming at his observation, you turn back to watch the younger kids and teens, “...People on our island have always kept an eye out for each other, but…Well, when Link and Aryall’s parents passed, I guess you could say I felt extra inclined to help.

“I don’t have any family of my own here and there’s only so much their poor grandma can do at her age. Unfortunately, keeping up with two lively kids can be a struggle for her, so I’ve done what I can to remove some of that stress from her shoulders. With no kids of my own, I have the time and quite frankly, I enjoy the opportunity to feel…-”

“- To feel like a parent?”

“...Yeah…” You frown, pulling your knees to your chest with a sigh, “Of course, I don’t go around calling myself that. I wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries, you know? Especially not for Link. Aryall - She was so young when they lost their parents, so I think it’s always been easier for her to see me as fitting the role, but Link…He was five. He still remembers them, so I doubt he’ll ever exactly see me as any kind of replacement.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Time objects kindly, following your gaze out to where Wind fights to wiggle himself out of Warrior’s grip. Seconds before he can be pushed off the rock, Wild and Twilight come up behind the two, shoving Warrior overboard just as Wind slips away, “I suppose I can’t speak directly for him, but I can say he refers to you as his parent quite frequently around us.”

“...Does he?” You blink in surprise. Wind’s never said anything in particular that would make you think he sees you in that light, but now that you think about it, when you first met Tetra, she referred to you as Wind’s parent, too. Did she say it out of mistaken observation like you assumed then or because Wind told her?

“From the sounds of it, you’ve made quite the impact on his life, one he admires greatly.”

You once again look back to the group, catching Wind’s eyes. He perks up, immediately waving as he shouts for you ‘Watch this!’ before running and leaping into the water with a giant cannonball and nearly on top of Warrior’s head much to the older boy’s annoyance. Once resurfacing, he searches for your attention and beams when he finds your proud smile reflecting back at him.

You’re thankful that he becomes distracted by the other boys jumping in, because as soon as he looks away, you can feel yourself becoming teary eyed. Perhaps you’ve been overthinking things this entire time. You were so focused on giving him space and not forcing a relationship that you failed to pick up on the little signs that he’s already accepted you. Wind has always been close to you, never shying away from hugs after his adventures while always seeking both your attention and approval; something he only does with his family.

#reader insert #x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #link x reader #lu hyrule x reader #lu sky x reader #legend of zelda x reader #lu wind x reader

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

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It All Starts And Ends With You, Chapter One (Stories from THE EMERALD)

TITLE: It All Starts And Ends With You, Chapter 1

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The nature of a drake, human versus dragon, isn't just tragic backstory. The supernatural halfbreeds are a living duality, two creatures in one skin. Every drake is, essentially, a twin soul.

Unlike most twin souls with a Necromatic match, however, a drake can choose.

For Janus, giving Patton his human soul was easy...but a secret from his past means that his choice has consequences...consequences he was never supposed to face, because Patton would never be free.

So much for a sure thing.

SHIPS: Moceit (Patton/Janus), Dragon Witch/Original Male Character and background Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: Future smut--warnings for all pertinent chapters will be posted.

...so apparently there's going to be a few side stories in this series? This takes place shortly after MANY MORE TO DIE, but it's not the big sequel. It's very much a side quest type thing because Janus Has Backstory and I Have Moceit Feels(TM). XD

Also, later on there WILL be smut in this story, but the chapters will be labeled--and I'm planning to make them skippable if I can. Otherwise I'll summarize plotty things in the end notes. So you filthy minded animals can have your debauchery, and those less inclined can still have all of my feels. :P

Per usual, unbeta'd self indulgent drivel, all mistakes are mine. ONWARD TO SHIPPYTOWN!

Also located at AO3 over here.

1019, A.A.

“Jay! A word?”

Eleven year old Janus Ormor looked up from the book he was reading on the floor of their living chamber. Father was captain of the guard, and as such they had better quarters in the palace than some other soldiers—shutters on the windows, softer beds, and the rug in their living chamber was far more comfortable than his bed, especially with a fire going.

Janus always had trouble staying warm—which never seemed right, since he was half dragon, but if Father wasn't worried then neither was Janus.

Marking his place carefully, Janus set his book aside and got to his feet so he could dash across the room to crawl into his father's lap. Yeah, it was kind of juvenile—he was eleven, Shadow's sake—but Father ran hot, and Janus was not above stealing a little of that warmth from him.

Knowing that, Timothy Ormor smiled and loosened the top couple buttons on his collar, allowing Janus to press his forehead to the curve of his neck as he crowded close with a satisfied sigh.

“What's going on, Father?”

“Nothing, really, just...well, your birthday is in a couple days.”

“Uh huh! I'm really excited! I love surprise parties.”

“How did...”

Janus looked up at his father with a smile, earning one in return. Father finally laughed, shaking his head.

“Sometimes I forget how good your ears are, wriggle worm.” Father sighed, tugging Janus closer. “No matter—yes, we're throwing you a surprise party. Think you can pretend?”

“I'm real good at pretending!” Janus assured him before cuddling up to Father's chest again.

“Well, that's good...but, uh...we need to talk 'bout something else.”

“What's that, Father?”

“Well...you know the story I told you about how you were born?”

Janus nodded, tucking his head against Father's neck again. “You and Mother loved each other very much, so you--”

“Not that part, imp!”

Giggling, Janus continued.

“--after Mother found out she was with child, you guys let me be born in the way of the dragons: she changed form, carried me for a year, and I was hatched a few weeks after the egg came. I didn't get my human form until I was a month old.”

“Well...that's the thing, kiddo...Shadow's Balls, there's no easy way to say this...”

“Say what, Father?”

“I...damn it, but I promised her you'd know your people. Thing is, Jan...your mother didn't have you with me.”

Janus felt his stomach get cold inside.

“What do you mean? You...you're my father.”

Timothy ran a hand through his son's hair, staring into his bright and confused little face. He wasn't overly fair, but his jet black hair washed out his complexion some, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

He was so easily mistaken for human with that beautiful face—until he heard things no child his age should. Until he stuck his hand in a fire and came away unburnt. Until he grew slow and lethargic in the cold...until those dark eyes bled yellow as daffodils, pupils lengthening into reptilian slits.

“I'm your dad, wriggle worm,” Timothy confessed, “but the truth is...I'm not actually your father.”

********** 1033, A.A.

“Sneak attack!”

Janus dropped his book as Patton rushed straight at him, flinging himself into Janus's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck to squeeze tight.

“I could see you coming, sweetie.” Janus pointed out with a sigh that didn't match the fierce swell of affection in his chest, hot and restless, compelling him to hold Patton in return with arms wrapped carefully around his waist.

Patton's giggle, right in his ear, sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. “But you didn't know I was gonna hug you!”

“Your arms were open for one.”

“So?”

“You also do this at least three times a day.”

“Only because you said four was too many!”

Patton drew back to pout at him this time, and that hot swell of affection stretched in his chest to the point of pain. Since Mori's death and Roman's installment as regent until the coronation, Logan and Patton had been given free reign of the castle, along with a few other Necromata prisoners the pair had vetted. Until their freedom was voted on by the citizens, they couldn't be released, but they could at least be made comfortable, and given room to reclaim some shred of normalcy.

Which meant Patton could, and did, visit Janus far too often, greedily devouring every hug, cuddle, hand hold, or simple hair ruffle he could gain access to. Janus could hardly deny him...and Janus wanted it all just as much.

Gods, Janus wanted, too much and too soon and too...inhuman.

Staring into Patton's face, Janus's vision was tinged with rays of gold. A gilt to every dark curl on Patton's head, flecks of gold in those deep blue eyes turning them into true lapis...shimmering gold lips pooched into a mock scowl, gold dusting the faint array of freckles he was acquiring after a few weeks of sunlight...

Pressure. Warm, steady, gentle...

Janus blinked, realizing Patton had his forehead pressed against Janus's. He was talking, words Janus couldn't hear but felt, soft and soothing and endless to fill his ears and press back the shimmering film over his vision.

The gilt edges faded away. His eyes were blue, deep and still and endless. He was Patton again, not...not some worthless hoard.

Just Patton, soft and sweet and bloodthirsty, infinitely more precious.

“...got you, Janny, my beautiful Janus. I got you, you're doing so good, you're so good for me...”

...okay, that couldn't be allowed to go on. Not when it made warmth pool far lower in Janus's body, made him want something entirely different—and wow, he was not ready for those kinds of personal revelations today.

Clearing his throat, Janus reached up to gently touch Patton's cheek.

“I'm all right, Pattycake. Promise.”

Patton watched him dubiously, a far more serious version of that pout forming on his face again...Gods and Souls, he wanted to run a fingertip over that lush lower lip. Or maybe bite it.

“You were growling.” Patton replied suspiciously. “And you were feeling cold. You're never cold, you're always warm as toast.”

“It's nothing, truly. I was just...distracted.” Janus tried again. “Work related, got me a little upset is all.”

Patton narrowed his eyes—then leaned back in to hug Janus again. Janus hugged him back without thinking...and felt his breath catch when he swore, swore to all the dragon gods, that he felt the tiniest press of lips against his neck before Patton burrowed in, pressing his face there.

“No one's 'llowed to upset my pretty dragon.” Patton mumbled against his throat. “Gonna eat their liver.”

Janus knew enough to know that was a very genuine threat, petulant as it sounded—and the promise of bloodshed should not make his heart throb with the softest pulse of tenderness and adoration. And yet...

“No more cannibalism, remember, darling?”

“It was one time, and it was an accident!”

Janus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Patton drew back to whine at him in protest.

“Yes, darling. Of course—entirely accidental. Naturally.”

“Humph. Not talking to you anymore.”

“Understood.”

“...the Lord Father is here to see you.”

Janus felt his blood turn to ice at that.

“Janny? You okay?”

With a sigh, Janus gently patted Patton's knee.

“No, but this was inevitable. Up, Paddock darling. I've business to attend to.”

********** He seemed bigger than Janus remembered.

Walking into his office, he was unsuprised to see Josiah Crofter standing within its walls, back turned as he stared out the window, arms folded across his chest. He wasn't, technically, allowed to be here and leave free, but Josiah had made it clear to the prince regent he knew how to access the castle at will—and had been given leave to do so whenever he wished to see his family.

When Janus was thirteen, he'd been a hungry giant, and now...now he was exactly the same despite the fact that Janus was now a grown man. Tall, too, thanks to that seven foot frame in his ancestry. Somehow, even still, Josiah himself was the bigger, the prouder, the more intimidating.

Clearing his throat, Janus announced his presence. Josiah didn't even turn around.

“You got good men servin' you, Deceit.”

“Do not call me that.” Janus replied flatly, sauntering over to his desk. “The walls have ears. Granted, most of them are mine, but loose lips and all. Unlike the rest of you, I take protection of my True Name very seriously.”

“Unlike the rest of us, son, it can't be used to hurt you. Not anymore.”

“Yes, you saw to that, didn't you?” Janus bit off tersely, sinking into his chair.

Josiah fell silent, taking a moment before he finally turned to face him. He was a stoic wall for several seconds before his expression just...melted, cold gray eyes going smoke-soft as he watched him.

“You look so much like your momma it hurts.” Josiah murmured, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “It's a good hurt, mind, but...I know you don't believe me, but seein' you's a balm on old wounds, little ember.”

That caught Janus by surprise—and he hated that. He was the one with the surprises, the tricks, the knowledge...but this man had things he never would.

Father knew who Janus was, but Josiah Crofter...he knew where Janus came from. He knew the why, the history and the parts and how they worked together, because they were a part of him as well. They were, quite literally, part of his soul.

“Which part?”

The question left Janus without his permission, torn from the small, secret part of him that had been inexorably drawn to his birth father's doorstep from the moment his human half had truly awakened for the first time.

He wasn't sure what he even meant, but somehow Josiah knew all the same.

“Both. All.” he replied, deep voice heavy with affection that settled over Janus, warm as fire and soft as the heaviest flannel blanket. “You got her scales and her hair—and in human form, her eyes were always that same shade of yellow you got on the one side.”

The knowledge hit him hard, formed a fist and plunged straight into his chest. It was comfort, it was agony...and it was a much needed reminder.

Josiah Crofter knew him as even his own father couldn't—and far too late, Janus learned to fear him for that reason. Far too late.

Janus's True Name was proof of that.

“Is there a reason you're here to see me, Lord Father?” he replied instead of addressing the observation. “Or did you come her to merely wax sentiment?”

A flare of hurt, then anger passed through his expression, clinging to his bones with its painful familiarity. Timothy Ormor was a man slow to anger, patient and steady—unlike Janus, whose swift mind was only outpaced by his heart, burning with the fire of the dragons.

Lashing out with anger instead of grieving or showing fear. This man was where he got it from.

Like Josiah did now, composing himself and folding his hands behind his back, he would default to a steady and inscrutable mask, cover the truth with strength and decorum.

“I came here to check on you.” he replied evenly. “Your situation with the Morrel boy ain't exactly a common one. Does he know?”

“About my condition? No.” Janus replied flatly. “And he never will.”

“That ain't an option, and you damn well know it.”

“It is if we aren't together.”

Josiah's brow furrowed, expression clouding with confusion. “You a Jadeheart?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “That term is archaic as all Seven Hells—no, I am not aromantic. Nor am I asexual, which is hardly your business—oh, I'm sorry, Soultouched.”

“You love that boy. You're bonded to him.”

“Your point?”

“...so you did give him your human soul.”

Janus fell silent, stubbornly holding the other man's gaze until he grit his teeth with a growl.

“Ah, Hells...”

Janus didn't like the way Josiah's breath left him in a rush, the way he cursed as if he'd just lost something precious. He didn't like the way he hung his head, shoulders slumping in something like defeat.

Janus didn't like the way he felt suddenly like he'd done something to deliberately hurt him.

“He was a Black Dog with a pure heart.” Janus hissed. “The purest heart...anyone who didn't know would assume he had a soul already, how could I give him anything else? How could I kill that human heart with a monster's soul?”

As he said it, he felt the reality of it sink into him for the first time, saying it out loud like that.

Because unlike most twin souls, a drake could choose.

And when Janus gained an inkling of what might be happening, when he felt that moment come—to give of himself, to release something of himself into Patton's care, of course—of course he chose to give Patton, to trust Patton, with everything in him that was human.

“You know what's gonna happen if you hold yourself away from him, son.” Josiah warned.

Janus narrowed his eyes at him, but could no longer bear up under Josiah's scrutiny, his eyes flicking down to his desk.

“Tell me this, Father: if you knew that you were going to become every foul thing the Animator stood for, if you knew that you were going to turn into your own father, would you have married my mother? Would you have exposed her to that monster?”

There was no answer from Josiah. Janus didn't expect one.

The closer he grew to Patton, the worse it got—and now that the sweet little killer was no longer safely tucked away in the dungeons or sequestered in a single wing of the palace, Janus was slipping.

Consumed by the hunger for possession. Tormented by visions of riches. Haunted by the knowledge that, if given half a chance, he would consume Patton whole just to sate his growing thirst for more.

Without his human soul, Janus was losing his grip on himself—and if he couldn't do something soon, the dragon—Deceit--would be all that was left of him.

#janus sanders #patton sanders #moceit #sanders sides #fanfic #necromancer au #fic series: the emerald #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again

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agoodgoddamnshot · 4 years

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Opulence [E] - Geralt/Jaskier

[Gif not mine]

Posted originally on my AO3 account - Rated E

Jaskier seems to follow his reputation like a shadow. More often than not, stories of the bard are already in a town or city by the time they actually arrive. For the most part, Geralt has to deal with the fallout of cuckolded men whose courtships or engagements or even marriages have been affected by the bard, in one way or another. It’s easy enough; noblemen, other bards, or even the occasional innkeeper take one look at Geralt – and Jaskier, who always seems to hide just behind the larger man – and tuck tail. On the occasion where ones may pick a fight, it’s not really fair at all. Noblemen, who’ve been taught to fight by great swordmasters, but never have seen so much as a drunken tavern brawl, often end up on the floor with little to no effort.

And while he knows that Jaskier doesn’t go cavorting with the affiances of the upper class anymore – because, for the past few months, it’s been his bed that Jaskier finds himself in – he does have to wonder just how many trysts the man had before settling firmly with Geralt.

“Oh, you don’t want to know,” Jaskier sighs into Geralt’s shoulder. The man has an arm firmly around the bard’s shoulders. His skin is speckled with sweat – a waste, after spending so long in a much-needed bath following days of travelling. But Jaskier just wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone when they were downstairs, drinking in one corner of the inn. Now, though, Geralt’s bard has a sleepy, contented smile lacing his lips.

Geralt arches an eyebrow. “What if I do? I want to know how many towns and cities we probably won’t be allowed into just because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“You’re one to talk. You have people speak about you as well, Witcher.” Jaskier laughs. A light little thing, mostly into Geralt’s chest. “Between the both of us, we might as well just travel south and hope that the rumours stop at the border.”

One rumour that he is arguably grateful for, however, is how highly people thought of Jaskier’s singing at Cintra. Foreign lords and ladies had been at the banquet. Geralt had watched them; joyfully singing and clapping along with reels and polkas that Jaskier had played. He can only imagine when they travelled back to their own homesteads, rumours of the bard’s singing went with them.

An invite comes. How the message finds them, he isn’t entirely sure. All he does know is that a feast is being hosted in an affluent town almost a two-day ride from their current lodgings. “Oh, don’t be like that,” Jaskier all but pouts as Geralt fetches Roach’s saddle. The mare regards both men for a moment, before going back to her hay. With Geralt’s back to them, Jaskier fishes a small sugar cube out of his pocket and holds it out for the mare. Her ears twitch, and she knickers softly at the treat, but this is still their secret. She still won’t let him on her back without Geralt, but at least Jaskier can be in the same space as the mare without fear of being kicked in the shin. Jaskier wipes the small string of horse spit from his hand and watches Geralt set about tacking her up. “I followed you half-way around the country, into all manners of situations. You can do the same for me, can’t you?”

Geralt huffs. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Setting Roach’s saddle snugly on her back, Geralt looks over at Jaskier. “Anytime you say for me, you expect me to drop everything and do what you want.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Jaskier’s lip. He pets Roach’s muzzle before walking over to Geralt. The Witcher grunts softly, making a few last adjustments to the placement of Roach’s gear, before fetching the girth underneath her stomach. He barely has a chance to attach it to the saddle before he feels Jaskier all but drape against his side. The stables of the inn are well-kept. Stalls are divided by wooden planks that run from the ground to the ceiling. In private, and sheltered from the wandering eyes of stablehands, Jaskier presses a light kiss to Geralt’s neck. “Please?” he mumbles against the skin, smirking as he trails his nose along a tendon there. “For me?”

Geralt turns, catching Jaskier’s lips in a kiss that, if he wasn’t completely aware of how discreet they have to be, would become so much more. Jaskier still doesn’t move his hands though; one on the small of Geralt’s back, and the other holding on to a forearm. When he pulls away, Jaskier tries to follow, but a barked order from one of the grooms to a nearby stableboy makes him pull away.

“Siren,” Geralt sighs. He would follow Jaskier anywhere. The bard knows that. He’s abused that fact. But the city they’re heading to has a reputation; draped in gold with springs of silver in the main square, it’s opulence at its finest. And Geralt is pretty sure that, although he’ll appreciate the comfy bed and the nice food they’ll be provided with, he’s going to fucking hate the rest of it.

Gathering Roach’s reins, Jaskier smiles brightly. “It’ll be great,” Jaskier says, as though he’s a mindreader all of a sudden. Then again, Geralt has different kinds of scowls. And Jaskier is just very good at reading them.

The city is everything he expected it to be. High, thick walls encase it, shielding it from a forest on one side and the foot of a mountain on the other. The main road into the city is packed with other travellers. Merchants with horse-drawn carriages walk alongside them, selling everything from cloth to spices and herbs to books. Sentries line the top of the walls, with their gleaming armour so polished that the sun, perched high in the air, makes them shine like beacons.

Two guards vet everyone approaching the gates. Both Geralt and Jaskier pass with little trouble. The letter that had been delivered to them has the royal sigil stamped on to one corner of the page. A guard with a battle-worn face merely waved them through.

Each person that they pass on the main road through the town seems clad in silks and cottons, with their heads adorned in shawls or headpieces or tropical flowers.

Even the gutters running along either side of the cobblestones look spotless.

Jaskier nudges Geralt’s side. “You look even more constipated than usual,” he remarks, fiddling with the letter. “Mind telling me why?”

It’s not the worst place they could be in. Nice cities mean nice inns, nice food, nice beds. But something Geralt wonders is why a city like this, pinned between a dense forest and a scaling mountain, sitting on a plateau of land with not much agriculture on it, could find its wealth. It doesn’t sit right with him. But he looks to his bard, and finds that he hasn’t given much of a verbal excuse. And Jaskier just keeps looking at him for an explanation. He sighs. “This is a city that is too nice.”

“Too nice,” Jaskier laughs. “You should hear yourself. You always complain about staying in the backrooms of people’s houses, and thin, uncomfortable mattresses. This will be the best we’ll have for a long time.”

Geralt never complains. He barely has enough wherewithal to clench his jaw shut. You’re the one who complains.

Instead, he breathes out a sharp sigh. “You’ll be singing in the king’s court, and what am I to do? Spend the night being your guard, again?”

Jaskier pets Roach’s neck. “Be my consort instead,” he looks up at Geralt with a spark in his eye.

He levels the bard with a look. “I’m not sure how people think about that sort of thing here.”

Jaskier shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out, then.”

“No, we won’t.”

“If you really do find the thought of spending the night with me appalling, then I’m sure there is something else you could be doing.” Jaskier huffs. Petting Roach’s muzzle, Jaskier then slows down slightly, walking along with Geralt. “I’m sure even a city like this has a pest problem,” Jaskier says quietly, smiling politely at a captain of a passing squad of patrolling guards. Geralt regards them. Chainmail, with heavy armour sitting on top of it. The royal crest is painted on to the breastplate. A plate, Geralt notes with a frown, with not a scratch on it.

They find themselves in a townhouse near the royal district. “We can’t just have anyone staying within the castle walls,” a spokesperson for the king smiles; one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I hope you understand.”

Jaskier nods. “Completely.” Someone comes to collect Roach and take her into the neighbouring stables. Geralt shrugs them off, leading the mare into the yard himself. Jaskier stays with the spokesperson, happy enough to talk about what etiquette is expected of him. Geralt can’t help but snort. Jaskier, for all of the rumours that would say otherwise, knows how to behave in front of dignitary.

He’ll just follow the bard’s lead.

If he’s going, that is.

Roach nudges him once he’s removed the last of her tack and strung up a net of hay for her. A knowing look sits in her eyes. “Don’t,” he points a finger, stepping out of the stall. She huffs.

A couple of hours stand between them having to leave for the banquet and now. The space is large enough for two double beds on either side of the room, and a bathtub that has already been brought up. On a nearby table, there’s a collection of salts and perfumes. Even with their caps on, the vials give off heavy aromas.

Jaskier fiddles with them, regarding each one carefully. It wasn’t a long trek from their last lodging; but muscles ache after a while, and he’s been on the road too long to ever refuse the offer of a bath.

Jaskier takes the cork off one of the vials. A pungent smell of lavender seeps into the room, and Geralt, even setting the last of his things down at the other side of the space, wrinkles his nose. “Unless you plan on falling asleep during your performance,” he says, “don’t use that.”

Jaskier closes the vial. A small frown creases his brow. “You can smell that all the way over there?”

“It’s not like I’m an entire country away, Jaskier.” Geralt slides the sheathes of both of his swords underneath one of the beds. They’ll lock the room when they leave, but he won’t be too careful. Geralt looks over his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, Jaskier hasn’t replied to a quip he’s made. Looking at the bard now, there’s a look on his face that he can’t entirely make out. “What?”

“Interesting,” Jaskier mumbles, picking up another vial.

It’s not the worst gathering he’s been to. The king – though, he finds out from a hoard of gossiping guards that he isn’t a king at all, but a man with grand notions of his place in the world – allows him to sit with the rest of them. Any friend of the bard is a friend of mine! Geralt’s eyes threaten to roll to the back of his head. But he settles for looking out on to the main hall, already packed with people who’ve had their fill of food and drink.

Long tables are laden with just about every meat Geralt can think of, with bowls packed with seasonal vegetables and spiced fruits in between each platter. Everyone seems merry; aided by the small army of servants wandering around to each table setting, filling goblets back up with ale and mead and wine just as soon as they’re empty.

When a server comes for his own goblet, Geralt covers the lid with his hand. “I’m fine,” he says gruffly. The server bows her head slightly, before going to the next person. It takes a lot of drink to even affect him, thanks to the mutations. He never quite understood it; a high metabolism, most likely. And he’s pretty sure that he would be able to get that volume of alcohol here, if he looked for it. The king seems keen for the visiting nobles to have a good time. Opinions easily bought with good food and drink.

But Geralt sits back in his chair, content to just watch his bard. A small gathering of others have joined him off to one side. The great hall is almost like a throne room; high vaulted ceilings held up by marble pillars. The space sprawls onwards, almost like fields. It would be impossible for Jaskier to play alone, and be heard by everyone. But he gives it a fair go.

Jaskier looks like he belongs there. A begrudging smile pulls at the corner of Geralt’s lip, threatening to show itself. He does his best to school his expression. Jaskier would never let him live it down if he saw that Geralt was actually enjoying himself.

Well, that’s not entirely true. He hasn’t so much as glanced at the dancing nobles in the middle of the grand hall. He’s fairly certain that a diplomat and her sister, or cousin, or daughter, have been talking to him for the past ten minutes; but he hasn’t taken in a single word.

After each song, Jaskier takes a moment to himself, looking out on to the applauding crowd. Geralt’s chest tightens. Stop, he has to keep telling himself. If he could shake the feeling away, he doesn’t know if he would. There was never any good in his life. Fleeting bed-partners came and went, as did faint flames of romances. This is different. A feeling churns his stomach and just won’t settle; simultaneously setting fire to his bones and making him shiver, as if a winter’s wind caught him off guard.

It’s frightening.

Jaskier looks at him first. After each song, he’ll seek out Geralt’s eyes from across the room, before smiling at him. Geralt can’t get over the fact that Jaskier’s eyes are so pale. Grey, with specks of blue in them. The golden lighting of the hall doesn’t do them any justice. Geralt lifts his chin in acknowledgement. Jaskier winks – a fucking wink – and moves on to the next song.

By the time the music finishes, gods’ know how many hours have passed. Geralt watches with some faint feeling of pride when those who had been dancing offer the first claps of applause, shouting for another couple of songs.

Nobles sitting alongside Geralt join in.

The most vocal of them sits in the centre. “Marvellous!” the king applauds, looking to each person beside him. “Wasn’t he just marvellous?”

There’s fevered agreement. Geralt watches it out of the corner of his eye, but ultimately settles for taking a long sip of wine. Jaskier holds his lute close to his chest, bowing his head in thanks. When he looks over to Geralt again, Geralt inclines his head. Well done. Because fuck if Jaskier is going to get a verbal praise out of him.

It’s enough for the bard. He places his hand on his heart and smiles. The minstrels that had accompanied him disperse back into the crowd, pulled into groups of chattering dignitaries. Geralt watches as Jaskier tries to navigate the room, serving between people, heading straight for the head table.

Because of where Geralt is, he’s the first person the bard seeks out. Up close, Geralt spies that the bard’s skin is speckled with sweat. And he seems slightly out of breath. Then again, Jaskier is never happy to just sing; insisting on dancing around the room whenever he can, getting a crowd going. The man is still so skinny, and Geralt has to wonder if that’s why.

Jaskier puts a hand on the back of Geralt’s chair. He tries not to shudder at the feeling of knuckles pressing into his back. The last time they had so much as brushed against each other had been before the doors to the hall opened, and they were both swept away to different sides of the room. Now, Geralt’s grip on his goblet tightens.

“Well, you big brute, did you enjoy yourself?” Jaskier leans down to Geralt. His eyes go to the man’s goblet, and must-see how white his knuckles have turned, because the grin that spreads across his face is just chaotic.

Geralt huffs. Jaskier plays his games. Geralt plays his own. “I didn’t want to throw myself off of the parapets, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The noblelady beside him balks slightly. Geralt grins. Something mirrored by the bard. “The highest of praise,” Jaskier marvels, patting Geralt’s shoulder. The touch scalds his skin, even through the layers of nice, formal clothes he had been almost-bribed to wear.

The king beckons him over. As Jaskier brushes Geralt’s back, moving towards the king, he lets his fingers trail over Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt tries his best to swallow a low growl.

A slight flourish of air signals that Jaskier has moved away. A scent follows, trailing along and skimming the bottom of Geralt’s nose. He allows himself to breathe it, for a moment. The air inside the grand hall had steadily become heavy with the scent of drink and food and sweat. Even when the tall lancet doors were open, leading out on to a large balcony looking over the city, the sea breeze wafting in couldn’t entirely chase the harsh scent away.

But what’s here now is different. All consuming.

Geralt looks over to Jaskier, sliding into a place made for him by the king’s side.

Honey. Nutmeg. A slight trace of orange blossom. It’s a scent that coils around his chest and spreads along his veins, easing his muscles. For the first time during the entire night, the world around him all fades away.

Jaskier makes idle conversation with the king. What it’s about, Geralt isn’t entirely sure. Blood rushes through his ears, sounding like the crashing ocean outside, battering the nearby cliffs as the moon churns the sea.

He catches Geralt’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. Without turning fully away from the king, a loose, content smile curls along the bard’s lips. Geralt all but balks. He knows that smile – one that’s always painted over his bard’s face after nights spent together. One that he sees either before falling into bed, shortly after, or even in the morning hours.

One that is being sent his way, in front of the lords and ladies of gods know where, in front of an elite family. In front of other people who had been drafted to come to this event, all surely looking towards their table, seeing what the king thinks of the bard who performed all night.

Geralt schools his expression; a hard thing to do, when the grip on his goblet becomes so much, he worries vaguely about distending it.

That little siren—

Geralt, in his long life, has weathered some tough situations. But the walk back from the castle’s keep to their lodgings is definitely up there.

It doesn’t help at all that Jaskier, under a guise of being merry – the King just kept offering me drink, Geralt. I can’t turn him down! – all but drapes against his side. Their fingers brushed on the walk over, knuckles skimming each other, until Geralt tried outstretching his fingers to try and catch Jaskier’s. When the bard took it upon himself to press against Geralt’s side, one arm was flung loosely around his shoulders, while a hand placed itself on Geralt’s chest. Geralt tried biting back a growl when that particularly hand slipped underneath Geralt’s shirt, fingers skimming across his chest.

The temptation is there – stalking around in his brain. All he would have to do is drag Jaskier into a nearby street; a small alleyway where the guards aren’t patrolling, and one that they won’t even glance down. But gods, Jaskier would complain. We are not doing this like back-alley whores, Geralt. He can already hear the man’s voice in his head.

But he does hear something. He’s been playing with the man since stepping into that fool’s palace, casting glances and smirks across the grand hall, turning away coyly when Geralt wants to curse him out.

The inn is quiet. Stepping inside, Geralt is slightly surprised to find only a couple of men are posted by the bar keep’s counter. Another handful are by the hearth, mugs of mead in hand, chatting quietly among themselves. It’s a change from the inns and taverns that line country roads, which never seem to sleep. They walk straight through the tavern, with Jaskier nodding what seems to be a goodnight to the woman gathering plates around the room. But no one else even lifts their head. The hearth still crackles. Men slouched in chairs in front of it still discuss what road they’re going to take in the morning to their next destination. The lady who owns the tavern finishes putting away the polished tankards.

When they reach their room – upstairs, with a lancet window looking out on to the town – Geralt barely lets the door close behind them before he has Jaskier pushed up against it. The bard laughs, almost giggles; something smothered when Geralt catches his face in between his hands, bringing them together in a heated kiss.

Nimble fingers work at the laces of Geralt’s shirt. The top of it had been undone for a few hours now. The grand hall had been warm, and Geralt was done with Jaskier’s coy games. He could play them too. Jaskier breaks from the kiss, resting his forehead against Geralt’s. “You should have just taken the fucking shirt off,” he groans. “You were already halfway there with how much of your chest was out during that feast. Honestly Geralt, you need to work on your modesty.”

Geralt tries to catch Jaskier’s lips again, but the bard pulls back, focused on getting at least one article of clothing off of the other man. Geralt could help. Of course he could. His hands aren’t doing anything; keeping hold of Jaskier’s neck and head. But there’s something thrilling about how he can feel Jaskier’s heartbeat through the hand on his neck.

“Everyone was too busy looking at you,” he replies instead, freeing one hand to momentarily skim down Jaskier’s side.

The bard scoffs. “Are you going to be pissy about it?” With the last of the shirt laces undone, Jaskier makes quick work of wrestling it up and off of the man. Jaskier finally kisses him again, looping his arms loosely around the span of Geralt’s shoulders. “Whenever I looked for you, you had the same sulk on your face as always. What’s wrong? Did you not like all the attention being on me for once?”

He’s playing again, Geralt thinks. He’s egging you on. “If you really want to know,” he says lowly, undoing the buttons of Jaskier’s doublet. Peeling it back and off, Geralt sets his lips and teeth against the length of the bard’s neck. He hides a smirk into the skin when Jaskier’s head tilts to one side: when his breathing starts to falter and hitch. “I’ve never been prouder.”

Suddenly, the bard’s hands are on his shoulders, and Geralt is wrenched back from Jaskier. “What?” the bard balks.

I can play your game too, you siren. Geralt sets his chin. “You were in your element. I spent the night watching people singing along with you, dance to your songs. I had to endure endless praises said by a king and his court.”

Geralt returns to Jaskier’s neck – at a slight loss, since he wants to watch the bard’s eyes go even wider at the praise. But the bard’s skin is still steeped in sweet notes of honey and nutmeg, and Geralt can’t find it in himself to part with it just yet.

Jaskier’s mouth opens and closes. For the first time in a long time, nothing actually comes out in the way of words. Instead, his breath catches when Geralt’s hands find their way underneath his shirt, tracing fingers along his bare sides. A shiver ricochets throughout Jaskier’s body. The arms around Geralt’s neck tighten, keeping him pressed firmly against the bard’s front. Truth be known, Geralt doesn’t know how long they stay there; pressed against the door, bodies moving against each other while hands wander, pulling at clothing and pawing skin. It could be a couple of seconds. It could be hours. The distant hum of people downstairs and walking in the hallway outside fade away entirely, until the only sounds that Geralt can hear are the crackling of the hearth and soft groans wrenching from Jaskier’s throat.

Wealthy towns mean wealthy inns; an ever-burning hearth with chopped wood nearby, plush beds stuffed with goose feathers, and quilted blankets and furs folded by the end. Geralt guides them across the room, until Jaskier’s knees hit the foot of the bed, and they pull each other down. The bard huffs against Geralt’s lips, pulling away for a second to press his forehead against the other man’s. He looks down as Geralt pulls at the laces of his shirt. Within seconds, because his Witcher moves fast, it’s flung across the room. Out of sight, out of mind. “Tell me this,” he says. Geralt hides a smirk into the centre of Jaskier’s chest at how breathless his bard sounds already. “Do all Witchers have a thing for smells, or is it just the one I’ve got?”

Teeth nip at Jaskier’s side.

The bard presses on. “Don’t get me wrong, I like nice smells as much as the next person,” he says, carding his fingers through Geralt’s hair. Recently washed, and pulled back into its normal, simple tie, he delights as it comes undone. “But you seem to really like it.”

It’s still there; honey, nutmeg, and orange blossom. Although it’s faded, in the hours since bathing, replaced with tones of wine and sweat, Geralt can still find traces of it in the pores of the bard’s skin. Geralt’s lips trail downwards. His fingers make quick work of getting Jaskier out of his breeches. Another scent seeps into the air; one he’s quite fond of. He’s grown used to the sharp smell of sex; bedrooms of taverns tended to reek of it, no matter how many times sheets were washed and mattresses are turned. But there’s something different about scenting it on Jaskier. The bard has a very particular smell, one that Geralt has come to know over their time together. With Jaskier bared in front of him, Geralt loops his arms underneath the bard’s legs, and tugs him closer. Setting his mouth into the groove of Jaskier’s hip, Geralt breathes. “I like this better.”

Jaskier gives a half-laugh. It dies completely at the familiar feel of lips against skin. “I can’t go around smelling of sex all day, Geralt. What will people think?”

Geralt hums. “Nothing they don’t already assume with the rumours they used to spread about you.”

“Geralt.”

“If anything, I think it’ll only prove them right.”

“You’re not funny.”

It should bother him: how familiar they are with each other. How well both of them can map out each other’s bodies, find where they’re most vulnerable to lips or teeth or touch. It should bother him how well Jaskier knows his mind, and how their usual banter continues into an act like this. Sex had never been like this with anyone else. Not even the more serious of his lovers in the past, the ones where he felt sparks in his veins. But Jaskier is like an inferno, setting his body on fire, and never fully being put out. It should bother him. And yet it really doesn’t.

Gentle hands running over his shoulders bring him back. “Everything alright down there?”

Geralt looks up. Pillows piled up against the headboard help the bard sit up slightly. Geralt can’t help but imagine him as some sort of regent, reclining and observing. Geralt lets his hands wander down the outside of Jaskier’s legs. He presses one last kiss to the join of the bard’s hip and leg. It’s not where Jaskier needs him. He knows that. Some part of him delights in watching the other man squirm: how he’ll try and shift his hips slightly, urging Geralt to put his mouth somewhere fucking useful—

“You’re being cruel.” Jaskier frowns down at him with all the power of a child not getting what they want.

Geralt hums. “Am I?” He moves past the man’s length, all but missing it completely, to worry skin of the other side of Jaskier’s hip.

The bard groans, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “And obtuse.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jaskier squirms. He’s strong; something not many people know about him. The bard isn’t completely helpless. But at the same time, Geralt has little to no trouble in catching writhing legs and hips, and holding them down to continue doing whatever it was he was doing not a couple of seconds before.

But Jaskier’s top half is free. Geralt looks up for a second, watching the bard reach for the bottle of oil they have on the bedside table. He frowns slightly. He doesn’t remember fishing it out of Roach’s bags, which means that Jaskier took it inside. And Jaskier left it on the bedside table, for all the world to see.

And Jaskier definitely knew that they would come back to the tavern and fall into bed together.

He flings the bottle down towards Geralt, almost knocking the Witcher’s head with it. “If you’re going to spend the rest of your days down there, could you at least do something useful?” Jaskier huffs, sitting back on his elbows.

“This is useful,” Geralt replies easily. For all their games – for all the times he prods and pokes fun at his bard, because it’s genuinely amusing – he does take pity. Searching blindly for the bottle, Geralt adds a couple of more bruises to Jaskier’s hip. “There’s no point in rushing things. We have all night. And tomorrow morning.”

Uncapping the glass bottle, the smell of oil suddenly enters the room. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but it’s not his favourite thing in the world. It’s heavy, almost smothering, as it coats the roof of Geralt’s mouth. He coats his fingers, making sure that there’s enough left behind because, for all people say about Witcher’s and their stamina, the same could be said about Jaskier. And he will want something akin to a second round in the morning hours.

Jaskier’s head falls back against the pillows as Geralt’s finger traces his hole. Geralt lifts his lips from Jaskier’s hip, watching intently as he slips one finger in; humming when there’s no resistance at all.

A groan echoes through Jaskier’s entire body. “There you go,” he sighs, “another.”

Geralt gladly obliges, after a time. He likes taunting his bard. There’s a humour shared between the two of them that he doesn’t have with anyone else. But eventually, it always leaves when they get a bit too close. When something else takes its place. They’ll still share breath when joined, and Jaskier will always loose a content little giggle into Geralt’s neck once they’ve finished. But right now, it’s not the time.

A second finger joins the first. And Jaskier’s body starts to squirm again. Geralt runs a hand over the man’s flank. Beneath his hand, gooseflesh bubbles to the surface. Geralt takes his time, coaxing muscle loose and making sure that nothing ever hurts Jaskier in any way. He returns to the bard’s neck, tracing his lips along the tendon that stands out whenever Jaskier tries to swallow back moans. The second that he runs his nose along it, though, Jaskier gasps. “I appreciate – fuck – I appreciate your attentiveness Geralt but – for fuck sake – get on with it, please.”

A third finger slips in. Geralt hums against Jaskier’s stomach, watching how his body seemingly recognises his partner’s touch, parting for him easily. Geralt turns his hand slightly, curling his fingers, searching and feeling out for something. He knows he has found it when a hand slaps against his shoulder. Geralt smirks: the bard’s fingers coil over the meat of his shoulder, nails pressing into skin. “For fuck sake,” Jaskier groans at the ceiling, “are you going to torture me all night?”

A gentle kiss is pressed to Jaskier’s stomach. “Maybe,” Geralt hums, tracing the pads of his fingers gently over the spot, relishing in how his bard both wants to squirm away from the overstimulation, and grind his hips back on to his hand. “You do look good lain out like this.”

“I’d look even better with you fucking me,” Jaskier bites, looking down at an entirely all-too-smug Witcher. His eyes narrow. “So get to it.”

“Bossy little bastard, aren’t you,” Geralt says, leaning up to catch Jaskier’s lips in his own. He has them for a brief moment, before the bard pulls away with a huff, pressing his head back into the pillow when Geralt’s fingers brush against his prostate again.

“I spent an age bathing and getting nice for you. Not to mention how much time I spent riling you up in the king’s halls,” Jaskier all but huffs. Geralt smiles, sitting back on his haunches. With the Witcher not covering him anymore, a slight chill trails over Jaskier’s bare skin. Even with the hearth blazing, he feels cold. “The least you can do is actually follow through with those bedroom eyes you were sending me all night.”

Geralt cleans his hand on the far corner of the bed. Hooded eyes watch him make quick and deft work with the laces of his breeches. His boots are lost to the room, toed off at some point on their journey from the door to the bed. Gods only know where they are. “If you had the patience to spend all that time playing coy,” Geralt smirks, slipping his breeches off and flinging them on to the floor, “then you can wait a few more minutes until we’re ready.”

Geralt returns, and Jaskier feels warm again. Kisses litter his torso: lips either barely brushing skin at all, or wet presses along the ridges of his collarbone and ribs. It’s lovely. It really is. But Geralt feels another objection from the bard coming when his shoulder is lightly smacked.

“I’ll find someone else,” Jaskier groans.

“Right.”

“I will,” he bites, “someone downstairs will take better care of my needs.”

“I’m sure they will.”

It’s always in jest. Well, it’s always in jest when it’s between them. Geralt knows that it’s his bed that Jaskier lies in, that he’ll always come back to. Jaskier knows the same. He can joke with his bard about his past affairs – since there probably isn’t a town in the continent that hasn’t been saved from Jaskier’s past romances. It’s never a joke when it’s someone else; when someone in an inn or tavern, or drunkard stumbling out of a brothel at night, seeing them walk by. It’s never a joke when those people say it.

Geralt finds his place again, Jaskier’s legs parted and framed around him. He hovers over the bard, leaning on his arms, placed on either side of Jaskier’s head. They can be close, that way. Geralt kisses him again, humming as he feels Jaskier pull his hair free of its tie, and runs his fingers through the strands. When they part, it’s only a fragment. Their lips brush and their noses are set against the other’s. Any scorn that the bard had been feeling not a couple of moments ago has seeped away. Jaskier’s fingers trail from Geralt’s hair, to his temples, down along the ridges of his cheekbones and coming to a rest along his jaw, mapping out lines. “I’m yours,”

“And you’re mine,” Geralt agrees, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Their joining now is just as intense as it had been during their first. Many moons ago, aided by blood humming slightly with ale and a warm bed, when the first brush of naked skin set them both alight. Geralt buries his face into Jaskier’s neck, the urge to bite the skin there rising, but he thinks better against it. If his bard has been this tightly strung all night, best not to let go of the string.

Jaskier’s legs wrap around his waist, with his feet poised at the small of his back. The movement jostles Geralt slightly, wrenching a small groan from both of them. Either one of them could finish early. The night’s tension all rushes upon them now. Geralt nips at the join of Jaskier’s shoulder and neck. “Alright?”

“Very much so,” Jaskier sighs, head tilted back and eyes staring straight up at the ceiling. They roll back at the first slide of Geralt in him: a slow draw back and push forward, the tentative first movement, and a quiet question of is this okay?

Finding no reason to stop, Geralt moves faster and deeper into the body below him. Jaskier all but moulds himself to Geralt’s frame, arms draped over and crossed around his shoulders and back, keeping their chests flushed together. Even with several nights of lying together behind them – so many that Geralt has stopped keeping track – it still surprises him how quickly a coil of heat starts to wind around his core.

Jaskier turns his head, moaning into the pillow. “There,” he gasps at a well-placed thrust, “there, there, keep going.”

There are things people say about Geralt that don’t hold an ounce of truth. Usually, it’s the whole Witcher thing. People will make up all kinds of rumours and beliefs, and stand by them, to justify distrust and hate. Other things are frivolous – like how he is as a lover. Jaskier thought some of them, at one point. One of the prevailing beliefs being that Geralt was going to be rough and coarse, and the entire thing would leave him unable to walk the next day. And while some times the latter is true, Geralt has never once bore teeth and nail to Jaskier – unless he explicitly asked for it, of course. Geralt is attentive; he reaches blindly for one of Jaskier’s thighs, hoisting it higher up Geralt’s torso just so he can get deeper. It wrenches something caught between a moan and yell from the bard.

It’s always for Jaskier.

Geralt wants to watch. He wants to see the bard’s face and body, but he presses his nose against Jaskier’s skin instead, drawing in a lungful of sweet and salty scents. It sends a thrum of pleasure down his spine.

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasps. His nails dig into the flesh of Geralt’s back. “Geralt, please. I’m close.”

“You can come for me without my help,” Geralt pulls away from Jaskier’s neck, but keeping his face close to the other man’s. “Can’t you, my little lark?”

Jaskier’s eyelids flicker closed. “Geralt-” The bard body tightens around him, and for a brief moment, all Geralt sees is white. Their foreheads knock gently together as Jaskier comes, holding on to Geralt for dear life as wetness shoots between them.

A choked groan wrenches out of Geralt’s throat. It’s all too much, the tight heat and the scents encircling him, and the fact that it’s Jaskier. With one last hard thrust, he stills, emptying himself into Jaskier. The bard moans, shifting his hips slightly. The legs around Geralt’s waist tighten, keeping the man pressed close.

Some sort of whine leaves Jaskier’s throat when Geralt manages to pull away from the bard. With whatever energy is left in him, Geralt uses it to avoid falling down directly on to the body beneath him. Instead, he moves on to one side of the bed, but keeping Jaskier within an arm’s reach.

Jaskier peers down at himself. They should bathe. But bathing would mean going in search of the tavernkeep and asking for hot water. It would involve them moving and putting clothes on. The idea is quickly thrown out the window. It’ll be a problem for the morning.

Both of them lie there for a time, content to catch their breaths. Sweat cools, and soon, Jaskier starts to shiver slightly. Even with the hearth, it’s not enough. Their legs are still joined, entangled, keeping them tethered to each other. The very thought of having to move away, even just for a second, makes Jaskier’s heart clench.

But they do move after a time, albeit, just shuffling around slightly to lie facing each other.

“For all the grumbling you did on our journey here,” Jaskier says, reaching out to brush some strands of white hair back from Geralt’s face, “we had a lovely time in this city, don’t you think?”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s eyelids droop close. Jaskier moves to fetch the linen sheets, kicked down towards the foot of the bed. When he drapes them over their bodies, Geralt shuffles slightly, throwing an arm loosely around Jaskier’s waist, tugging him closer.

Jaskier pillows his head on one arm, pale blue eyes scanning over the Witcher’s face. He’s mapped every inch of it in their time together; the ridges of cheekbones, the small scars on his temple, how his eyes, although they stay that amber colour, can change to different shades depending on what mood he’s in. Jaskier smiles. “Thank you,” he says softly. “For coming here with me.”

Geralt hums. His eyes remain closed, but from his breathing alone, Jaskier knows he’s not asleep. Though, he could very well be teetering on the edge. “I was hardly going to let you go alone,” he rasps. “Gods know what kind of trouble you would have gotten yourself into.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t to watch me perform?” Jaskier smiles, something hidden into his arm. But his eyes crease with how widely the smile spreads. “Since you had such nice words for me when we got back.”

“Did I?”

“You complimented me, Geralt.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do. You have me confused with someone else.”

Jaskier pokes his side. “No, I vividly remember you saying that you were proud of me. Seeing me in my element, as you put it.”

“Go to fucking sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt mumbles. The words are mostly lost into the cotton cover of the pillow, but he feels Jaskier shift slightly, finally settling after a couple of minutes.

The town outside sleeps, except for the patrols of mounted guards that pass every half an hour or so. Horses’ hooves echo along the cobbles outside. If he strains, he can hear the guards chattering amongst themselves. There are other sounds too; the crackle of burning wood in the hearth, the groaning of boards in the tavern’s walls as the night begins to cool. All sounds that Geralt tries not to listen to. He turns his head, burying his nose into Jaskier’s mop of hair.

It’s still there. Traces of it, clinging on to his skin for dear life, but Geralt fills his lungs with honey and nutmeg and orange blossom. The mattress seems to part for him as he sinks into it, holding the bard’s body close, and letting sleep wash over him.

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amarabliss · 4 years

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Galahdian Dreams - 9 ( Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands.

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

“I want to take her out with us.” Nyx watched as Drautos’ shoulders slowly deflated when he sat down in the chair across from him, “Hear me out…”

“You do realize that the last time you took Y/N out…” He looked at Nyx finally.

“It will different…” Nyx talked over him.

“…was only two months ago and…” Drautos began shaking his head

“And I’m asking this time…” Nyx smiled at him.

“…you got the shit kicked out of you, Nyx!” Drautos stood up leaning on his desk his brow coming together with worry, “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Nyx stared at him for a moment before leaning back shaking his head, “It’s was…one time…”

“One of many that are happening to our people. Your people, Nyx.” Drautos stood up letting out a heavy sigh, “People are beginning to fear leaving their homes…and you want to take Y/N out…not even just out in the city, you want to go out beyond the wall with her.”

Nyx shook his head chewing on his thumb, “Regis cannot keep her locked in here forever.”

“This isn’t about their politics Nyx, this is about the fact that we are not welcome here and you’d be putting both yourselves in the line of fire.” Drautos shook his head, “When are you going to do something?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Nyx raised his voice, “You think that I’m just guarding her because I think it’s fun? I’m doing this because when we came here, we came to see King Malcolm…instead we were met with King Regis…you’re the one who told me to stay under the radar…”

“Well you never showed much interest in your duties until recently.” Drautos sniped back.

Nyx stared at him for a long silent moment before he looked away, “You’re right…I haven’t done anything to help the situation, and I wasn’t very good right after the fall…”

“Nyx…” Drautos sighed hanging his head a little, “I didn’t mean…we understand why it took you so long to get back up. Everyone was beaten down into the dirt right next to you. But we also wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you…we’d be back home, more than likely six feet under.”

Nyx took in a deep breath letting it out slowly as he looked out the window watching a recruit warp up the main pillar before skidding down not connecting his dagger in deep enough, that was gonna hurt. Finally, he came back to Drautos, “I know it’s unconventional…but I’m trying to make Y/N see us…she is our biggest supporter here and she’s willing, no, eager to learn our ways. From what I’ve seen being around her these past few months…she is definitely King Malcolm’s daughter.”

Drautos sat back down looking at him as a small smile of admiration crept onto his face, “You have your mother’s instincts…and your father’s charisma…”

Nyx smiled a little before he spoke, “And was my mother ever wrong?”

“One occasion…” Drautos smirked a little as Nyx’s eyes widened surprised by the admission, “She decided one day it would be a wonderful idea to assign me to the most obnoxious child in all of Galahd…told me to try to whip him into something more than a snot nose brat.”

Nyx rolled his eyes smiling at him, “Just remember…I’m stubborn because you told me not to ever give up.”

Drautos smiled at him before letting out a sigh, “I can get you the paperwork you need to fill out…but I’m not the one who can approve it.”

“Who is?” Nyx watched his mentor take in, if it were possible, a heavier breath.

Several hours later he was standing outside the throne room doors waiting to be summoned before the king. His thumbs kept running over the tips of his fingers in a rhythmic motion as he tried to stay calm. He practiced everything he needed to say over and over in his head ignoring the subtle glares he kept getting from the throne room guards.

Jokes on them, they’re stuck guarding a door that no one would ever get to if the castle was breached. There were enough Glaives surrounding the Citadel that no one would even consider it an option. He didn’t think poorly of the normal guard…it’s just they were dicks…

“Ulric…” He turned to the guard taking in a deep breath, “You’re up.”

He walked into the throne room swiftly to his mark where he kneeled before the king keeping his head low and eyes averted, “Thank you for seeing me, your majesty.”

“I haven’t much time…so we can cease with the formalities.” Regis told him as he stood and began walking down the steps.

“Uh of course.” Nyx was thrown off momentarily by the dismissal as he stood up watching Regis walk down toward him, “I only came to request allowing Y/N to accompany myself and several other Glaives on an outing, outside the wall.”

Regis eyed him as he walked by only giving him a nod to follow, “And what would you be taking my niece out to do?”

“Sailing.” Nyx put his arms behind is back as he walked aside him.

“Sailing? You think it’s an appropriate outing to take? Y/N has never been sailing…” Regis took a folder from an attendant that approached him.

“Her ladyship is very quick to learn; I have no doubt she’ll be fine.” Nyx glanced at him as he sifted through the folder brow creasing, whether it was from the information in his hand or the conversation he would never know, “I believe the outing will do her some good. She’s been feeling trapped…”

“You presume to know how she is feeling?” Regis stopped looking at him sternly, “You are her guard…your job is to protect her, yet you are here asking to see if she can go on a field trip with you…Tell me do you know where my niece is right now?”

Nyx stood there for a moment before he pulled out his phone. Regis scoffed shaking his head as he spoke, “If you don’t know-”

Nyx raised up a finger as he clicked away at his phone. He smiled before he looked up, “She is in the east wing currently. She’s attending practice with your son, Prince Noctis. She wasn’t sure if she was going, she’s been feeling a bit distant from people since you closed off the greenhouse.”

He watched Regis eyes cloud up a little as he went on to explain, “When I’m not with her…I have people around her that I trust. People that I have vetted to ensure she is safe and well looked after. Thankfully, it’s only once in a great, great while that I’m not with her, but rest assured I have her safety in mind always.”

Regis tapped the file against his hand before taking in a slow breath, “You seem to take your job seriously.”

“As I should, I’m protecting a member of the royal family. She may not be in line for the throne anymore,” Nyx watched the older man take in a deep breath, “but it doesn’t mean she’s completely safe.”

“You’re smart to think that…” Regis looked at him with a distant thought in his eye, “You think this…outing…will improve her mood?”

Nyx tensed momentarily. Things had been extremely tense between you and the King. Family mealtimes were required now…and extremely awkward…Regis also had closed the greenhouse the following week after your incident with him.

You had been crushed and nearly lost it…

“Y/N…” He looked at you as your fist balled up looking at the chain on the door with a huge padlock, “Y/N, take a breath…”

“He can’t…” You turned and began marching down the hall as if you were going to war, “He can’t do this! This is the one place…the only place…”

“Wait…” He warped in front of you cutting you off as he put his hands on your arms, “just…”

“This is too far!” Your voice rose as you face began to redden, “He can’t…this is…”

“I know…” Nyx frowned giving your arms a gentle squeeze, “but you, going in wherever he’s at… and exploding…it isn’t going to help. You know this…”

You looked up at him tears just beginning to show in the corners of your eyes, “He…he’s trying to erase them…everything good that my parents did…He’s trying to erase it all…”

Nyx couldn’t say anything…he would have liked to agree with you to make you feel better, but he couldn’t. Ever since that day you had been…sad… He got worried for you. Afraid you might do something to hurt yourself, but you didn’t.

Nyx finally let out the breath held for a moment and spoke quietly, “I think…it would be a step in the right direction.”

Regis let out a sigh as he began walking again, “I am only restricting her of the things that are distractions. She may not become queen, but she still plays a vital role in the arena of politics. It is important that she finishes her studies and begin her duties.”

“Duties, your Majesty?” Nyx questioned him a look of confusion coming to his face, “Forgive me, no one has informed me of the future yet…”

“It doesn’t surprise me that she hasn’t told you. It’s hard to have trained for one role your whole life and be thrusted into another so jarringly.” Regis smiled a little, “She essentially will be filling my position that I held when my brother was king, may he rest in peace…”

“You were in charge of overseeing relations with the territories, right?” Nyx smirked a little as surprised overtook the King’s face.

“Yes…as well as relations with other countries. Specifically, Accordo and Tenebrae.” Regis kept walking further down a hall toward the council chambers, “I need her to take her place before we lose those relationships.”

“Your majesty…” Nyx stopped gaining the full attention of the king, “Do you understand that she is terrified of being in large crowds?”

A flicker of surprise came over Regis’ face, “I…I was unaware.”

Nyx sighed looking down to the ground, “Sir…she suffers from PTSD…at least a little bit…That night destroyed her trust in people, and then when she was finally better…her entire world was torn down in a single moment. I have been working these past few months with her. Trying to at least get her comfortable with the people she sees everyday…”

Nyx looked back up at him putting his hands on his hips, “That’s why I took her out that night…I know it was wrong. I should have followed protocol, but you didn’t see what that party did to her. She puts on such a brave face, and she fakes the perfect smile, all the while she is panicking. Even the whole way to the Hearth, she tried to be brave asking questions to hide her fear…and she was brave finally…her curiosity of the ward overtook her when we arrived. It felt like I was finally seeing her in her element for the first time.”

“Why do you think that is?” Regis was watching him carefully. Nyx looked at him and he could see how genuine he was trying to be, “Be honest…”

“It’s because she trusts me, your majesty. We’ve built a bond by sharing conversations…I believe she lets her walls down enough around me to feel safe…and normal.” Nyx let his arms drop standing up tall like his mother always told him to do when he delivered something important, “If you want her to step into your old role…you have to get her to trust you again. You have to let her be free.”

Regis let out a long sigh before he nodded slowly, “You know your charge well. I trust you will take care of her while sailing.”

Nyx felt his excitement rise inside of him as he bowed, “Thank you, your majesty. I will do just that.”

“As I said when you first took over your position…” Regis spoke over him placing a hand on Nyx’s head, “Keep her safe…”

Nyx watched as his feet disappeared out of his view. He stood up straight watching the king walk through a set of doors leading to the council room. There was a strange feeling that stirred inside of his chest as he began to compare things.

What you told him about your uncle, that day he reprimanded you, and the cold breakfasts the weeks following…they didn’t add up to the man who seemed genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. He could tell each time he spoke those last few words to him…there was father’s love in them…Regis didn’t wish any harm to come to you and he was truly sorry for everything.

His strange feeling didn’t stop him long as he raced to the training grounds. He stepped inside cautiously and just in time to see Gladio throw Noctis halfway across the field. The prince landed hard on the ground with a groan.

“Whoa…hey…” Nyx rushed over to him kneeling down, “You alright there?”

“Don’t you feel bad for him! He deserves all he’s getting right now!” Gladio shouted toward them.

Noctis groaned sitting up with Nyx’s help, “I said I was sorry.”

“What happened?” Nyx chuckled a little further helping Noctis to his feet.

“I…maybe…sorta…” Noctis scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Maybe sorta nothing!” Gladio walked over, “Little twerp embarrassed the hell outta me…”

“She likes you…every girl likes you!” Noctis rolled his eyes, “Anita even said yes!”

“Whoa…you’re into Anita?” Nyx smirked a little as Gladio scowled looking away from them both. He really liked that the prince’s guards did not take shit from him because he was royal. It reminded him of home.

“He does and I happened to say something about it to her, mentioning how neat it would be for them to go out on a date…” Noctis glanced at Gladio who was still fuming.

“You two would make a cute couple.” Nyx patted Gladio on the back, “Go easy on our prince…he’s young…”

Gladio rolled his eyes nodding a little, “If you’re looking for Y/N, she and Ignis stepped into the other arena for a tutorial on javelins.”

“Right, thanks…” Nyx looked to Noctis giving him a sympathetic look, “Good luck…”

“Thanks…” He murmured as Nyx walked back out.

He walked across the hall again opening the door cautiously. He never knew what to expect when entering a training area here. Back home training rooms didn’t have doors and as soon as you entered you were part of the session. Insomnia however, it depended on the individual. There were rules…and they always changed…

“Good, but…” He looked over seeing you lunge out with a Javelin and Ignis instructing you. He felt his jaw clench as Ignis moved up behind you placing his hand on your hips adjusting you, “square off your hips…move this leg back and let your whole body be the force behind it. Otherwise you’ll fatigue your shoulders…try again.”

You followed the recommendations and sure enough there was a lot more power behind the thrust. You smiled back at Ignis, “That felt much better.”

Ignis smiled at you, “Keep coming and soon you’ll out master us all.”

You let out a laugh, “I doubt it…I’m sure if my uncle hears about me attempting to train, he’ll put his foot down somehow.”

“I have it on good authority…” Nyx took the opportunity to step in. You smiled at him as he approached making his heart flutter, “That will not happen. As I am your guard, it is my job to protect you, and in order to do my job well you also need to know some self-defense.”

“That’s a practical statement.” Ignis smiled at him, “I don’t believe we ever been formally introduced, Ignis Scientia.”

“Nyx Ulric.” Nyx took his outstretched hand his grasping it firmly, “Thank you for taking over for me for a bit. I had a meeting to attend to.”

“Happy to help. Y/N, has always been an easy student.” Ignis nodded toward you, “Always listens and performs well.”

“Well…fighting isn’t a speech…” You shook your head as you leaned on the javelin, “…words never killed anyone…”

“No but they can sometimes cut deeper than any weapon.” Ignis told you. Nyx could feel himself rolling his eyes slightly. What was this guy…perfect? “And with that, I will hand you back to the very capable hands of Nyx.”

“Thank you, Ignis.” You told him as he bowed slightly before excusing himself. You turned your attention to Nyx as soon as Ignis left, “So what meeting did you have? Captain Drautos giving your more recruit drills again?”

“Ah, no…I don’t have another set of those for two weeks.” He smiled at you as he placed his hands behind his back.

“Alright…who did you speak to and why are you so happy?” You moved to put the javelin away on the rack.

He followed you slowly, “Oh…just the king…”

That got your attention quickly, “What?”

“I had to…he’s the only one who can approve taking a member of the royal family out of the city…” Nyx watch as confusion filled your eyes, “which he granted.”

“…I don’t understand…you’re taking me someplace?” You tilted your head eyes narrowing on him as he nodded, “And my uncle approved it? This isn’t some trip he’s devising?”

“No, it is not a trip from him, and yes he did. It’s in a few days…we’re going sailing.” He grinned when your eyes lit up excited, “We’re supposed to have great winds that day…everyone wanted you to come.”

“Everyone…like everyone from the Hearth?” You suddenly became a little nervous when he nodded, “I don’t know…I don’t know how to sail…won’t I get in the way?”

“Well…it’s the Galahd version of sailing…so there’s a lot less rigging to deal with. I have a feeling you’re going to be just fine.” He smirked a little as he opened the door for you.

“That sounds like a trap.” You stopped in front of him putting your hands on your hips, “You wouldn’t be trying to trick me, would you?”

“You? Never…” He smirked at you, eyes twinkling at the thought, “What happened to all that trust you had in me?”

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basenji18 · 4 years

Text

Brush

She's staring at a toothbrush, trying to decide its significance. It's her toothbrush, in his holder. And she cannot for the life of her remember which one of them put it there. She has a clear memory of sliding it into the cup last night. But memory is fragile, and easy to fabricate. She has an equally clear recollection of sleepily leaving it to dry on the counter, can see him as clearly as herself coming in after her and dropping it in place. Which one of them placed it there, and what does it mean? She knows she's overthinking. But knowing it has never stopped it. It's a toothbrush and it belongs in a toothbrush holder and either of them might have done it because they're both neat freaks but her toothbrush in his toothbrush holder could potentially have very big implications and she wants to know which one of them did it so she knows if he's being hospitable or she's being presumptuous or if it's just a stupid toothbrush and it is too early in the morning for her to be doing this to herself. Her side bites her. She's tensed up and angered her bruised ribs. She grips the marble sink and purses her lips against it. She takes a shaky deep breath through her nose. She always tenses and it hurts and she tries to hide it by tensing up worse. She lets the breath out through her lips, and a little of the pain goes with it. A second inhale-exhale lets her straighten. She's off the pain meds, except for once a day, right before bed. James and the old doctor with the furry ears both encouraged her to take them longer, but she refused. Bad enough her plane is gone. Bad enough Cobra's plans are severely delayed. Bad enough the Joes are still loose. And bad enough that this feels like the first vacation she's had in...ever. She likes the drugs. She likes not being in pain. Fuck American puritanism, she likes being high for a while, nothing bothering her, dropping off wherever she happens to be and waking up six to ten hours later, no dreams, refreshed, still a little hazy. Vicodin keeps her from overthinking toothbrushes. And that's what makes it dangerous. The doctor prescribed regular ibuprofen, if she won’t take the hard stuff. If she wants to be up and working, it will "take the edge off." He doesn't understand she needs her edge. She is the knife the Commander wields to keep his empire in line, and she wants to stay the knife instead of the sheep. She'd love to float in a medicine-induced haze until her ribs don't bite and her brain isn't scrambled and she doesn't get headaches and exhaustion from thinking too hard. But it's dangerous to be caught off guard. Because off guard people don't notice who put their toothbrush in the damn toothbrush holder. Everything else is in its place, but nothing else is hers, so it doesn't matter. She didn't come planning to stay. She got off her transport with nothing but the clothes on her back. She's been provided with everything, from medical care to soft wool sweaters. The clothes she wears and the bed she sleeps in and even the hygiene products she uses because of course that would take place this week all have their places in the castle and wardrobes and bathroom cupboards. But none of that matters, because none of those items are really hers. This would bother most people more than her. Anastasia mostly does not have possessions. This sounds odd to people who do not understand what it's like to have money. She’s rich, right? So she must own things. Yes and no. She uses things. The dresses for the parties are rented. Designers pay Cobra to have her seen in their work. The plane belonged to Cobra. Her glasses were designed by their engineers and assigned to her. The houses in her name are overseen by various historical societies - more than one well-heeled old lady with a pedigree almost as long as Ana's own would laugh her out of the office if she so much as suggested where to hang a picture. Her time is Cobra's. Her energies belong to the Commander. But the toothbrush is hers. You can't scrub your mouth out with something and expect someone to want it back. The toothbrush came from the plane. A little travel case, toothbrush and passport (one of them...) and the like. Fireproof, bulletproof. Explosion proof, apparently. Recovered from the wreckage and dutifully returned. Her glasses slide up her head as she rubs her eyes, pressing her fingers in until she sees stars in the dark. This is not about a toothbrush. This is about her trying to fuck something up so she can feel in charge of the fallout. Because she fixes things. She takes care of problems. And here there's nothing to fix. She's heard of happy households. She knows they exist, in the same way she knows endangered rhinoceri exist somewhere out in the wild, though she's never seen one. For all her experience, the rhinos and the happy families might be actual unicorns. Her own parents considered their second born an accident. A mistake at best, a disgrace at worst. Most of their parenting had been a mad scramble after her brother's death, when they realized they'd have to make the best out of a bad situation and try to salvage the family line. Her ribs twinge. She's hugging herself very tight. James' parents are gone, but his household is close. The people here are a community built over generations, not hired and vetted and run like a military. And they have swept her up immediately. She doesn't understand it. When she's not playing the part of PR representative, she's not charming. Her personality is distant and cold as the best or worst Russian stereotype. But the maids and the workers are all friendly, one housekeeper who may have seen the first stones laid taking particular care of her, like she'd been raised in here, and wasn't the new wink-and-a-nudge interest of the laird. They're treating her like she's human, and she's about to crack under the strain. The other day she had her thumb on the button to call Mindbender, just to hear a familiar, caustic voice. At the last second, she...stopped.

She's never visited her parents' graves. Yet she's already seen where James' parents lie. The McCullen clan has a plot, a rolling field under the grey Scotland sky, which somehow looks less like the kind of well-manicured field of death where she's sure her parents rot than like a kind of stone-marked family get together. As if the ghosts were invisibly hanging around, staying close to their descendants. That's too much fantasy. She frowns at the toothbrush. Behind her in the bedroom, she hears James stir. They haven't had sex yet. Isn't that funny? Shared a bed every night for a week and they spoon like cats, but he hasn't even taken a feel, though he's had every opportunity. They've skipped over the hot and heavy and sexy right to the point where they're sprawled out and drooling on each other. The bed springs creak and she can see him in her mind, stretching, craning like a bear, yawning best he can in that mask. He'll be in in a minute to deal with his own teeth, an unpleasant procedure with strong mouthwash and a straw he's embarrassed of, so she tries to always be done and in getting dressed by the time he comes in. Does he watch her in the mirror? She's never caught him at it. Is this love? Even she has felt infatuation, and this doesn't feel like that. Anastasia can count on one hand the people she's sure she's loved, and have fingers left over. James has the charm and he makes such fun toys at MARS, and she'll admit, he's given her a little flutter before. But he's also blown her off back when, when he was MARS and she was Cobra and he was captain of his own ship and proud to stay that way. The mask has humbled him. Recent events have brought them both down a peg. Blind infatuation isn't necessary. Neither one of them needs more fireworks in their life right now. Her head already hurts from her thoughts spinning round inside it. She's just got up and she's making herself tired. She has only seconds until he gets here to review the facts. He calls her Nastya. Not in front of anyone, of course. She vaguely remembers asking him to, and she believes this memory because 1) it's not the nickname English speakers naturally fall to (he still calls her Ana sometimes), and 2) she wants him to call her Nastya, and she has been very drugged lately. Drugged enough to act on wants. So she believes her memory is real in this case. What does that say for her toothbrush? Eugene. Zhenya. The one person Ana knows she's loved. When she thinks of James, she thinks of him as she thought of Zhenya. Not in brotherly fashion, obviously. But when she thinks of the future, he is there. When she thinks of anything, his presence feels natural. Anastasia holds her thumping head. "Are ye alright?" He's in pajama bottoms, bare-chested, as she's wearing the top half. The stark metal of his mask ends at his throat, above a broad chest with a scattering of ginger hair. Lord help them all if they ever have to follow the Joes to a desert. Between her, him, and Mindbender, they'll have to buy a sunscreen factory for Cobra. "What are you grinning at?" The smile in his voice and eyes, tickled at her getting tickled. In answer she wraps her arms around his waist. His skin is warm, the hair lightly coarse against her cheek. Arms wrap around her in return. Who put the toothbrush in the toothbrush holder? Who cares? In the first draft, I realized I wrote Baroness' POV in the same voice I used for Destro, so I went back and reworked it. I like the result. I feel like James is more soft spoken and considerate, kind of sidling up to thoughts, while Anastasia would be blunt and direct even in her own head, but occasionally work herself into a tailspin of overthinking.

#anastasia cisarovna #james mccullen #baroness #destro #gi joe #gi joe renegades #gi joe: renegades #long post #but i actually cut it in half so watch for the sequel #baroness destro #baronestro #fanfiction

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prideverse · 4 years

Photo

The final four refs! If I end up getting any more characters in this next gen belonging to any of the main pairs, I'll edit them into existing sheets, and background ones will remain background (while acknowledging who I've adopted them from). For all the bios, look here: www.deviantart.com/dadjoke-nes… (some of the older ones will have their text edited soon, just because I have new friendships and relationships) --- FREE WILL - The oldest daughter of Iron Will by 1 week, she, along with her sister, was conceived at a Wonderbolts party. Her other parent is none other than the illustrious Rainbow Dash, who gave up her oldest daughter to Iron Will, as she was not ready for kids (and was early in dating Rarity when she gave birth). Despite this, Dash keeps an amicable friendship with Iron Will nowadays, and checks up on her daughter from time to time. Rarity, not to be outdone, designs fashions just for Iron Will's two daughters, and has taken Free on as an apprentice in her shop. Free loves reading and sitting in trees. Her closest friendships are with her half sisters Dynamo (who writes stories, then Free reads and offers suggestions) and Heart (who is like a twin sister in all but name, with birthdays so close together and growing up together). Free is allergic to hay, and suffers terrible hay fever, but she loves hay fries, even if they make her nose into a geyser. Free was adopted from TheBigEarredBat here: www.deviantart.com/thebigearre… IRON HEART - The second daughter of Iron Will, Heart was born to ??? and given up almost immediately. Her mother does not ever make an appearance in her life, and has made it clear to Iron Will that she won't let the fact that she birthed a half breed ruin her career. Heart grows up thinking that Dash's side is also hers, because it's less painful than the truth. Heart is a skilled hoofball player and roller derby player, along with her good friend Duchess Cherrypop Blueblood. She lives for sports, she breathes sports, and she does consider Ogres and Oubliettes to be a sport of its own (that she plays with her dad and sis frequently). She loves her family immensely. She's a bit over competitive, but she makes up for it by being a gracious loser, polite winner, and fantastic team player. Heart was adopted from AshuriKRBG here: www.deviantart.com/ashurikrbg/… NOTE ON THE IRON WILL FAMILY: After moving to Ponyville with his two young daughters (as the growing city was becoming a hub of education and acceptance for non-ponies), Iron Will fell back on the skill he was actually good at: Motivational Speaking! Unlike before though, this time he did a more mixed media podcast on his own radio station, a podcast that grew in popularity when his young daughters started taking part! Their most popular segment is a podcast where they play Ogres and Oubliettes (think The Adventure Zone), with listeners tuning in weekly to hear their adventures, and writing in fanart and support and suggestions for the games. --- MARIA - The daughter of Cranky, Matilda, and a generous egg donation from their good friend Steven Magnet. When Matilda and Cranky were married for a couple years, they decided they wanted a child. However, Matilda, due to being a mule, was infertile and unable to conceive. The two asked their good friend Steven for advice, and the serpent volunteered to be the egg carrier (since an egg would be "faster" than a pregnancy as far as sex change spells went). And so, Maria was born, a glorious tiny noodle with huge floppy ears. Maria stayed relatively small until she hit puberty, and then she shot up in size. By the time she was 15, she was living full time in Twilight's castle, as it was the only building large enough to hold her. Maria currently works as a guard for Twilight's moat, and an occasional babysitter for the twins. She loves her parents a lot, and goes home every night to stick her head through the front door for dinner and hugs from Matilda. She collects pets in her rooms of the castle, and is known for being as good as Fluttershy in finding a home for an abandoned creature. She's kind, and a bit ditzy, though she comes off as scary to strangers, especially when she's in "guard mode". Maria was adopted from Vindhov here: www.deviantart.com/vindhov/art… many many many moons ago "CADAVER" Born "Periwinkle Sugardrop", Cadaver was raised in an orphanage for the first 8 years of her life. At around four, a pony named Diamond Tiara started volunteering, and she grew to like the young creature so much that when Diamond Tiara became an adult and gained her inheritance, the first thing she did was adopt young Cadaver. This move was the final nail in the coffin between DT and Spoiled, and Cadaver has only met Spoiled Milk one time in her life, at a family gathering that ended in a very very loud shouting match. Cadaver started going by her name at a young age - even without access to a cutie mark, she knew her goal in life. Cadaver wants to be a doctor for non-ponies, and she absorbs any and all literature to that effect. Tired of how non-ponies are often referred to vets (despite being fully sentient creatures with opinions and unique needs), Cadaver is making it her goal to usher in better care for EVERYONE whether or not they want it. Her favorite patients are Iron Heart, who suffers a lot of sports injuries, Maria (who suffers a lot of animal bites), and herself (who in studying medicine in other places, has picked up a number of scars and injuries, since young griffons and dragons are far more bitey than young ponies). Though she rarely admits it, she sees Diamond Tiara as a mother more than a sister, as Diamond is there for her in every way a mother should be, despite being only ten years older than the young creature. Cadaver herself doesn't know what she is - half pony for sure, but her other half could be anything from cat like Capper or Diamond Dog, or some other species she just hasn't heard of, since this is Equestria and anything is possible. Cadaver was adopted from DingoBreath and her original reference is here: sta.sh/014ece0g59tq --- And there we have it! Stay tuned because soon I'll open up an ask the cast deviation and possibly some weekly meme type things (for all that eclipse discourages looking at journals)! And I can finally start on story, won't that be just lovely?

#mlp #mlp next gen #Next Gen #next generation #my art #My Little Pony #mlp mylittlepony #long ass post #next gen bios

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fanghuas · 5 years

Note

Oh could you do some Tim and Damian bonding with number 10 or just the batbros in general

Here you go! Sorry it took so long and thanks for the prompt! I had a lot of fun writing this, Tim and Damian are just Peak siblings constantly bitching at each other and I love it, lmaoo.

Tim was having a strange dream. It looked like he was in a video game, making his way through a castle that looked like a Super Mario level, only he was fighting an army of ninjas. Bruce and the others were waiting at the end of the stage, he knew instinctively, trapped inside a giant man-eating plant. He had to get to them fast, or the plant would digest them and it would be game over.

Then there was an earthquake. Tim cursed under his breath and struggled to keep his balance as he danced away from his opponents, but the shaking only got worse. Above him, the ceiling begun to crumble.

“Drake!”

Tim recognized the voice immediately. Damian. He sounded distressed – but something wasn’t quite right. Damian was trapped inside the plant with the others. Had he gotten out on his own?

“Goddamnit, Drake, wake up!”

Tim spun around, trying to pinpoint where Damian’s voice was coming from, but the ground collapsed below him as soon as he did and he was falling, falling. Tim closed his eyes and waited for the crash – instead, he became aware of some soft material below him, impossibly comfortable. Damian’s voice was ringing louder than ever, now having switched to Arabic to mutter his disapproval of…what? Tim’s general existence, maybe.

Tim rolled onto his back with a yawn and blinked up at Damian, who scowled at him and yanked his blankets away. He did so one-armed. In his other hand, Damian was cradling something small that Tim couldn’t see properly. Squinting a little, Tim sat up.

“What d'you want?” Tim asked, voice groggy with sleep.

Stay in the manor for the weekend, Tim, Bruce had said. I’ll make that chicken pot pie you like, Master Tim, Alfred had said. And because Tim was an idiot who deserved his fate, he had agreed. He had not signed up for being cruelly woken up by his pest of a little brother, thank you very much.

Damian deposited the thing – a small ball of spikes – on Tim’s lap, expression guarded. He shuffled his feet in a way that was uncharacteristic of him, almost skittish.

“I found this hedgehog on the grounds,” Damian said with great dignity. “I believe he is ill.”

Tim was prone to agree. The hedgehog was restless, scratching and licking itself, with its spikes sparser than Tim thought they ought to be, its skin dry underneath. There was something about being handed a creature so small and defenseless that made his chest hum with anxiety. He rested a tentative hand on top of the hog’s back, careful not to spook it.

He glanced at Damian, trying not to look as panicked as he felt. “Can’t you take him to Alfred, or –”

“We’re the only ones home,” Damian cut him off. His tone was curt, impatient, but he wasn’t going out of his way to insult Tim as he usually would. Tim detected a hint of concern. “And – as much as I’m loathe to admit it – I don’t know what to do.”

Tim’s eyes flickered to the hedgehog again, equal parts captivated and terrified. It was so small. Was it a baby hedgehog? Or was this their regular size? Spikes or no, Tim was gripped by the fear that he might crush it without meaning to.

“Alright. Here’s the plan,” he declared, ignoring the part of him that wanted to freak out and denounce all responsibility. “You’re going to do a google search and find out what we can feed this little guy, meanwhile I’m going to call a vet and try to set up an appointment. All good?”

“Very well,” Damian agreed, more easily than Tim had expected. “But the appointment must be for today. I will not risk his health.”

Tim bit back a sarcastic retort and tried to smile instead. “It will be for as soon as I can arrange one, Dames.”

Damian nodded tersely and grabbed Tim’s laptop from his bedside cabinet, plopping down on the bed and typing away at lightning speed. Tim wondered if it was worth protesting that Damian use his own laptop or phone instead, but he shook his head and let it go. Tim lifted his pillow and gave his blankets a shake in search for his phone. It fell out and tumbled to the floor.

It took a few tries to find a clinic that was both open at this time – 7 AM, Damian, what were you even doing outside so early? Tim had only just gone to sleep two hours ago and Damian was already up – and willing to accommodate them on such short notice. Luckily, the name Wayne literally opened doors, and Damian got his wish. They had an appointment for 10 AM. Tim wasn’t expecting so much as a thank you.

When Tim returned to his room, Damian was curled up in bed with the little hedgehog in his hand, feeding him little bites of Titus’ food with great care. Tim stopped at the threshold, mouth quirking up at the corners. It was so rare to see Damian unguarded like this that Tim wished for a moment that he had his camera on hand. He snapped a quick picture with his phone instead and then coughed unsubtly to alert Damian to his presence.

Damian sat up straighter at once. “I have found that we may give the hedgehog cat or dog food as long as it is not fish-based,” he informed Tim. “We may not give him milk.”

“Good job,” Tim said. “We’re going to the vet in a couple of hours. Think you can watch him until then?”

“Of course,” Damian said instantly. “Fetch me a baby bottle filled with warm water.”

Tim’s eyebrows twitched. “Please.”

Damian shot him a puzzled, irritated look. “What?”

“I’m helping you, Damian,” Tim said, as evenly as he could, “but that doesn’t mean you get to order me around. You could say please. Or at least make it a request, not a command.”

“Can you fetch me a baby bottle filled with warm water?” Damian rephrased, this time making it sound like he was doubting Tim’s ability to complete even that simple task.

“You’re lucky your little pinecone is cute,” Tim ground out.

He fetched Damian the damn baby bottle.

“Okay, so they’re doing us a favor seeing us so soon,” Tim reminded Damian as he parked the car outside the clinic. “So let’s not, uh, throw knifes at them, or threaten to eviscerate them if the results are not what you want to hear. Okay? Try it out. Pretend I’m the vet.”

Damian scoffed, but quickly smoothed his expression into something innocent and childlike, eyes wide and pleading. “Doctor, can you heal my pet? And by ‘can’, I mean do it or I’ll murder the town.” He gave Tim a bitter look. “Is that what you expect me to say, Drake? I do know how to behave like a normal human when the occasion calls for it.”

“Of course you – I didn’t mean –” Tim sighed and rubbed his temples. “You’re right. I’m just tired. Being an asshole. Sorry.”

Damian looked taken aback. “Yes. Well. Let us not dwell on it.”

Damian clutched the hedgehog protectively as they walked into the clinic and settled in to wait at the reception room. Tim busied himself with scrolling through news apps on his phone. It was a habit. He had priority alerts for certain terms, of course, Batman and WE and so forth, but it was important to stay informed on a larger scale too.

After a twenty minute wait, give or take, they were called to the examination room. Tim was quietly relieved that it didn’t take longer, because Damian had been growing restless. The hedgehog was asleep in his palm, curled into its side, and Damian was watching it so intently that you would have thought the poor thing would die if he took his eyes off it.

The vet greeted them with a smile and introduced herself as Dr Gleason. She took the hedgehog from Damian – who was reluctant to hand it over – and woke it up gently. She much have sensed Damian’s anxiety, because she took the time to explain each step of the procedure to him as she went about the exam. Tim stood to the side, a little awkwardly, but also marveling at how fixated Damian looked.

“Looks like this little buddy has mites,” she said. “It’s nothing serious, but if you have others pets I would suggest keeping him quarantined. How long have you had him?”

“I just found him today,” Damian said, and then, defensively, “They’re legal to have as pets in New Jersey. I checked.”

Dr Gleason nodded. “Well, he’s gonna need a cage, a hide box, an exercise wheel…you have to keep those all clean to prevent mites in the future, as well as any other toys or items you give him. Okay?”

“I will take good care of him,” Damian declared coolly.

Dr. Gleason prescribed an antiparasitic, instructing them to keep an eye on the hedgehog for a few days to make sure it was working properly. When they were about to leave, she held Tim for a moment longer.

“Is your brother serious about keeping him?” she asked.

“Yeah, pretty sure,” Tim said with a shrug. “He has a…thing. About animals. This would be his fourth pet now.”

Dr Gleason inclined her head. “That’s good, but you should know that hedgehogs have a relatively short lifespan. 3-6 years is the most common. Tell your dad too. Before you make that decision, you should all know what you’re getting into – that kind of loss can be devastating to a kid.”

Tim could testify to the fact that Damian had experienced his fair share of devastating things already, but there was no arguing that he’d be distraught if any of his pets were to die. He’d have to find a way to bring it up subtly, or better yet, pass along the information to Dick and have him handle it.

He smiled and nodded. “Will do, ma'am.”

Damian was waiting for him impatiently, frustrated at being left out. He grew even more so when he demanded to know what Dr Gleason had wanted to talk about and Tim gave him a generic response, but Tim didn’t budge. He’d done his brotherly duty for today – he would not be the one to have the conversation about the mortality of pets, at least not right now.

They got into the car and drove in silence for a few minutes, Damian’s anger dissipating as his focus returned to his newest acquisition. Distantly, Tim wondered if they should have asked Bruce before adding another member to Damian’s growing menagerie. He probably wouldn’t mind, would he? The little creature didn’t take up any space, so small that it could easily fit in Damian’s palm.

“I’m going to call him Drake,” Damian announced.

Tim almost crashed into a street sign, earning scornful honks from the drivers behind him.

“Damian, you can’t tell me something like that when I’m driving and operating on two hours of sleep,” he protested numbly. He’d heard Damian’s words just fine, but his mind refused to process them.

Damian bristled. “Two hours? You imbecile -”

“You’re naming the hedgehog after me?” Tim interrupted.

“That was the thought, yes,” Damian said irritably. “But if it’s going to cause you to kill us both in a car accident -”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tim said. “It’s just, you know. Between the two of us, I would argue that you’re the one with the prickly exterior.”

Damian gave him a scowl. “While I suppose you consider yourself to be oh so mellow and approachable.”

Something in his tone gave Tim pause. Had Damian been trying to reach out, to be nicer to him? Had Tim rebuffed him without realising it? They hadn’t had a serious fight in ages, and Tim couldn’t deny that he cared about the little gremlin, but he hadn’t exactly been campaigning to become Damian’s new best friend.

“I’m honored, I think,” he said. “I’d love for this little guy to be named after me.”

“You’re about as ugly as him,” Damian said without missing a beat.

And this time Tim could easily recognize it as banter, not a genuine attempt at insulting Tim, if only because Damian would never dream of saying anything bad about his pets.

He laughed. “Joke’s on you, I think he’s adorable.”

“I already prefer him to you,” Damian informed him grimly. “Drake the second is far less obnoxious.”

“Pot, kettle,” Tim quipped, and found that this back and forth came easily.

#damian wayne #tim drake #robin #red robin #batman #batman comics #batman and robin comics #red robin comics #batman fanfic #batfamily #batfam #batbros #my writing

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xathia-89 · 5 years

Text

Long Lost Sibling - Kenshin

I was still trying to process the past day as I was sat with my husky dog between my legs in the most unladylike manner possible. I had started off in Kyoto, I was there as part of the recruitment team who were attending a job fayre at the local university. Most people wouldn’t think about joining the military to do anything non-combat based, but when you bring my absolutely adorable, albeit mostly useless, k9 partner into things, it’s a good attraction point. I hadn’t kept track of any sign ups or further information requests, I was just there to make sure Shin didn’t go on the hunt for anything sweet based. It was a nightmare enough that the only sugary items I could ever keep around me were the sour candies I was known for, mostly because he couldn’t stand them.

It was a long story as to how I ended up with a k9 partner in the first place, as officially, I shouldn’t have had him. I worked as a vet with additional duties as a dog trainer. I trained Shin, and he passed everything with just about perfect marks. But then he wouldn’t leave me, every person who he was assigned to, kept complaining he wouldn’t listen to their commands or do as he was trained to. So I’d end up reassessing him, and everything would be fine until one of our superiors decided to get a colleague of mine to try. Turns out that Shin had gotten more than a little attached to me, and had worked out that if he didn’t do what he was meant to, then he would be brought back to see me. Strings were pulled, and I made a really strong case for the fact that I could be in the middle of surgery in the battlefield and the enemy could attack, and a ‘one-off’ was made for Shin and me. I hadn’t told anyone how I had named that particular bunch of dogs since I knew they’d just make fun of me for being so obsessed with such an old school era of history. Every dog in Shin’s class had been named after a Sengoku warlord, and Shin was named after Kenshin Uesugi because of the heterochromia which just struck me as something that reminded me of that particular warlord.

I was sat in 1582, in a kimono of all things, in a room in Azuchi castle after saving Nobunaga from the flames of Honno-Ji. I had met every warlord I had studied at school, and I was in awe a little. This just had to be a dream, until Sasuke re-introduced himself as the original reason we had arrived here. Shin practically bowled him over and started licking his face in greeting, a complete 180 from the lead up to the wormhole. He was a ninja, and I’d already summarised that he worked for the enemy judging from his need to enter my room through the ceiling. He gave me a slight smile and said he had to remember that I worked for the military and said that it was likely to be best if we kept it quiet that we came from the future. I asked about dogs in this era of Japan since Hideyoshi had decided that Shin was a wolf who was fully prepared to kill Nobunaga, and the staff still weren’t convinced he wasn’t going to go feral and kill them all in an instant. He reminded me that pets weren’t always that much of a thing for some time before letting me know that he’d try to keep in regular touch after advising me to get to know the warlords around me before our three months were up.

For a few days, everyone kept their distance. It was impossible to track down Hideyoshi to find out what I was meant to be doing as Chatelaine, and all of the staff were still terrified of Shin. Then I spotted Mitsunari in the library and noticed that he clearly hadn’t moved lately.

I tapped the angel on the shoulder, then pulled on his cowlick before resorting to pulling the book out of his hands to get his attention.

“Oh, Lady Natsuki,” his smile would cure anything, I was sure of that. “Is there something I can help with?”

“Yes, we’re going on a walk, it will do you some good,” I replied, already pulling the man to his feet.

“But what about your duties?” He stammered as I linked my arm through his, a blush peppering his cheeks.

“I can’t find Hideyoshi to know what they are, and I could tell from how you were sat that you hadn’t moved in too long,” I snorted. Shin was barking excitedly and bounding ahead of us. “You can show me around the gardens, it’s too nice of a day to be spent hunting out Hideyoshi,” I smiled. “Plus he’ll probably come and find us if he can’t find you,” I added on.

As I predicted, it took about an hour or so, but the vassal was storming through the grounds and practically foaming at the mouth. We were in the middle of a discussion on battlefield strategies, when he dove between us, with an especially heated glared at me.

“I think I won that bet,” I smiled at Mitsunari, who was struggling not to laugh at his Lord’s actions. “You owe me a trip out to the teahouse.”

Shin came bouncing over and started to lick Toyotomi’s face vigorously. It startled the man, and I was struggling to remove the giant puppy from one of the most dangerous men in this era while giggling furiously.

“You haven’t been near any fruits, have you?” I asked, trying to keep my dog out of harm’s way.

“I came through the kitchens, they’ve probably had some in,” the vassal grumbled. “What are you two doing anyway?”

“I couldn’t find you, then I noticed Mitsunari in the library and it looked like he hadn’t moved for a while since there was dust settling around him, so I decided to bring him out for a walk and some fresh air. I then bet him a date to the teahouse that you would find out he’s missing and come out looking for us, while he said you wouldn’t,” I shrugged. “Anyway, did you want one of us for something?”

“Masamune has dinner ready, so I was looking for Mitsunari to make sure he ate something,” Hideyoshi frowned. “And knowing him, there’ll be enough for you as well.”

“Or I could just go and bother the kitchen staff, “I brushed off, “Let me know when you’re free Mitsunari,” I smiled, calling for Shin to follow me to the kitchens.

I was a little surprised to find that I was being summoned to a war council, and even more so to find out that they had realised I was able to help out Ieyasu in the medical department. Mitsunari announced my talents with such an innocent smile that I couldn’t even try to be mad at him. Though Nobunaga did then announce, I was also going as his good luck charm, to which my good mood vanished. I was merely a trophy to parade it seemed, I just had other uses, as well as I, gritted my teeth behind my neutral mask.

It was then another fight with Hideyoshi to not leave my dog behind.

“No, you’re not bringing it with us!” Toyotomi yelled as I appeared to leave.

“He’ll follow me,” I argued, folding my arms as everyone else looked on in amusement. “So he might as well be incorporated into the whole thing because this is exactly what he was trained to do is protect me on the battlefield from any of the enemy sneaking up on me in the middle of surgery!” I snapped, my voice getting progressively louder.

“If he’s just going to follow then you might as well just let her have her way,” Date chuckled as Oda smirked at the scene. I scoffed and ignored Nobunaga’s outstretched hand while mounting behind him on the horse.

I was glad to reach the designated spot and be able to busy myself away from the warlords. Well, I had to stay with Ieyasu, but we never spoke to each other, there just wasn’t a need unless it was to determine if something was missing from the medical kits. Hideyoshi was continually glaring at me, though Shin was doing as I had already predicted and just sat at my feet as we finished sorting out the medical tent that was also doubling up as my tent. At least if it didn’t look like there was anyone else in the camp, then it would make me less of an obvious target. I had to smile at my past memories of being on tour, and that I had thought fatigues were terrible. I had to keep myself prepped in a kimono here, I had been toying with the idea of designing my own outfit and heading for my preferred dress style of trousers, maybe even going for something similar to what Sasuke wore.

I turned my head at the sound of the tent flap lifting and smiled as it turned out to be Mitsunari.

“The battle starts at first light,” his serious tone made my smile dip a little. It was making me want to do anything to change his expression for some reason. “The scouts have already left, and Lord Nobunaga has decided that you are staying here at first with Ieyasu,” he explained.

“I’m sure Ieyasu isn’t pleased with that decision,” I commented.

“He did say he wasn’t here to play babysitter, but I get the feeling you can look after yourself,” he replied.

“I’m glad for the vote of confidence,” I patted his cheek. “Go and rest up, I’ll get something to eat and put this dope on guard duty,” I smiled, ruffling Shin’s fur as his ears perked up at the mention of food.

Seeing how enthusiastic the troops were on their return from the battle made me nostalgic in some ways. I had to admire the warlords for their leadership. In my experience, the generals would sit back and instruct the pawns, while these insane idiots would lead the charge. I was curious about how battle worked, but I was needed too much on the medical front to slip away for some views. Especially once Ieyasu told me he was leaving me in charge of the camp and mounted his own horse to go and join the fight. I was jealous in some aspect that I couldn’t do the same. I was dabbing at a sword wound to Nobunaga’s arm when Date was yelling and mounting his horse in a fury.

“Hold up!” Hideyoshi yelled, pulling on the reigns of the horse as we all emerged to the scene. Shin was sniffing the air in curiosity, and I wasn’t sure what was going on.

“My scouts are missing,” Masamune snapped. “I need to go and find them,” he growled as I was struggling to now restrain a very determined husky dog from leaping through the gates.

I fell face first onto the floor as Shin barked excitedly and dashed off quicker than I could react. I heard them shouting my name before I was hitched up by the obi onto Date’s horse as he thundered up to me. I was grateful that he didn’t turn around, instead of catching up to the dog in time for us to see two horses galloping towards us. Shin couldn’t contain himself and started yapping happily at the feet of the man I didn’t recognise. Sasuke was on the horse next to the unknown male, but there was definitely battle in his eyes.

Masamune was shocked as I pulled a short sword out from my sleeve and blocked his attack on the other male as the ninja stopped his Lord from doing the same.

“No wonder you took off without a second thought lass,” he muttered, though his glare was now on the snowy-white haired male astride the horse opposite. “What have you done with them?” He snapped.

“What are you talking about? You’ve taken ours,” the other male accused as I shared a look with Sasuke.

“Are you missing some scouts as well?” I asked, interrupting the inevitable from Date.

“Some ninjas,” the astrophysicist replied.

I dismounted the horse, much to Masamune’s displeasure, I had the feeling he was enjoying having me that close to him. I then managed to wrestle Shin back into my arms after a long battle, and some bribery as I pulled a few dog treats out from my obi.

“I have an idea,” I announced to the warlords. “Masamune, go and get some clothing that belongs to our missing scouts, Sasuke, if you could get the same from your missing ninjas,” I smiled. “I think Shin should be able to track them.”

This had always been a party trick at Azuchi, so Date looked surprised to see me effectively proposing a game at such a time.

“It’s not a game this time,” I promised. “I’ll wait here, with my dog and sword and you two go and fetch the things,” I smiled.

Sasuke had already left by the time I finished my sentence, and I gave Masamune a look as the other warlord dismounted his horse to get a closer look at my utterly inappropriate dog. It was a tense silence as Date galloped off, I had no idea who I was with, but Shin was obsessed with the man as the dog leapt from my arms and knocked him flat on the floor before licking his face enthusiastically.

“I am so sorry!” I gasped, trying to pull the husky off the warlord.

“What kind of wolf is this?” He grunted, finally sitting up as I managed to get Shin under my control.

“He’s not a wolf, he’s a dog,” I corrected him. “He normally hates people, so I don’t get why he’s so friendly with you,” I apologised as Shin started licking my face. “Yes, you’re a giant puppy and useless at times like this,” I snorted, fussing the dog a little roughly.

“Who are you anyway, and who brings a woman onto the battlefield?” The man frowned, eyeing me up and down.

“She’s their healer,” Sasuke interrupted. “And this is Lord Kenshin since I know he wouldn’t have introduced himself,” the ninja smiled and dismounted to put himself on our level.

He looked surprised as I bowed politely to the warlord while Masamune arrived back at double pace.

I collected all the scraps of fabric and got Shin’s attention with the last dog treat I had in my obi, ignoring the comments from Date about what I had hidden on my person. Then I bolted after him as he dashed through the forest. I left the men in the dust, I could keep track at first, but dogs have a much better stamina than humans as I made sure to keep track of the blips of white and the visible dog tracks that he left as he tore through the woods.

I was hoisted up again by the obi, though I was surprised to see it was Kenshin this time on his horse as I issued the directions of the fleeing dog. There wasn’t any need for further discussion as we practically fell over the husky who was loitering on the outskirts of a clearing. He knew how to stick to the shadows as we waited for Sasuke and Date to catch up. The missing ninjas and scouts were all tied up, while they had men guarding them.

“Kennyo’s men,” Masamune muttered from our hiding spot. “Natsuki, stay here,” he grumbled before dashing straight in for a fight.

Kenshin was following the mad man instantly before I shared a look with Sasuke, and I promptly ignored the one instruction I’d been given.

Most of the former monks were facing Kenshin and Masamune, as I took them out by the backs of their knees and ankles. I figured there was going to be a lot of questioning to be done, and it was impossible to ask the dead what the plan had been.

“Natsuki!” Date scolded me as I took out a man aiming for his head.

“I took your advice and ignored it,” I laughed, swinging my blade across the side of a man’s knee who thought I could be an easy target as Shin dragged him to the floor by his arm before I kicked him in the jaw to put him down for a nap.

“How are we getting them all back then?” I paused, looking at the underlings that were now all tied up as the ninjas and scouts were looking intrigued about the rescue party.

“Well, which camp are we taking them to is the best question,” Date replied, stiffly eyeing up Uesugi.

“I believe yours is closer than ours,” he formally replied. “The woman will ride with me,” Kenshin instructed.

“The woman has a name,” I sarcastically added on.

“Natsuki is an Oda Princess, she’s not about to ride with an enemy warlord,” Masamune argued.

“How about I ride with Kenshin, and Sasuke goes with you,” I interrupted. “Masamune will lead the way, and we will take up the rear.”

“I like it when you get bossy lass,” Date chuckled, and gave me a peck on the cheek before I could slap him away.

“It’s an appropriate compromise,” I stated and glared at the one-eyed dragon as the ninjas and scouts arranged themselves accordingly before I went to hoist myself onto Kenshin’s horse.

He surprised me as I was then sat firmly in his arms when I had gone to sit behind him. “I’d like to keep you where I can see you,” he firmly said.

“My short swords are up my sleeves,” I shrugged but offered no physical resistance as we set off. Shin was trotting along at the side of us, looking very proud of himself for some reason as I was pondering if I had any more treats in my tent.

“Natsuki!” Hideyoshi was already running up to us with a telling off of the century all prepared for me.

“What rule did I break that I wasn’t aware of this time?” I snapped as Kenshin helped me to dismount.

I paused as I got my first good look at the enemy warlord in some light, and I felt the camp held its breath along with me. Uesugi was wide-eyed while facing me.

“Natsuki, you look just like Kenshin,” Mitsunari broke the silent spell that had been woven.

Hideyoshi had me in a headlock, while Shin was now attacking his legs while I was struggling and trying to punch him where no male liked to be hurt. Mitsunari was pulling on his Lord as Kenshin had his arms around my waist. Nobunaga was stunned to see the chaos as Masamune was trying to figure out where to get involved, and Sasuke was trying to restrain my husky.

Uesugi wouldn’t let go of my waist as we all went flying in different directions. Shin was growling at Hideyoshi as the ninja had gotten him pinned to the floor finally while Mitsunari and Ieyasu had Toyotomi restrained with his arms held behind his back.

All of the Oda forces were staring at Kenshin and me with slack jaws.

“You really can’t tell me they aren’t related,” Hideyoshi growled.

“There’s a resemblance, yes, it doesn’t mean I’m a spy,” I snapped back, still trying to get out of Uesugi’s hold. “Since when have I done anything to warrant your hostility?”

“She’s had every opportunity Hideyoshi, and she’s done nothing but prove her worth,” Nobunaga gave a warning to his vassal. “Kenshin,” Oda’s tone made me freeze but caused the man holding me to look his enemy in the eye finally. “You had a sister that went missing a long time ago.”

“Natsuki,” he breathed, as my dreams flickered through my head. A young boy with the same mismatched eyes as mine, holding his hand out and telling me to come home while we were stood in a meadow under the moonlight. A slightly older version was scolding my stance as I picked up a short sword, and then correcting it diligently.

“I believe there is some catching up to be done by you both,” Nobunaga shrugged. “Until we leave the battlefield, then I believe there is an adequate amount of time to do so.”

“She’s an Uesugi Princess, she returns with me,” Kenshin corrected him as I came to my senses.

“I’ll go where I like thank you both,” I interrupted. “Now, seeing as both of you had soldiers captured by Kennyo, wouldn’t it be safe to say you both need to work together to get him before you two start arguing again?”

“I hate it when she has a point,” I heard Hideyoshi mutter under his breath.

Mitsunari couldn’t stop checking on Natsuki from a distance at the very least. She had been sat with Kenshin next to a fire all morning, just talking to him as the rest of the camp gathered itself together. There had been moments where it seemed that the soldiers were taking their time just to give the Princess some more time with her brother. In broad daylight, and seeing them next to each other, it was more than a little obvious.

“Mitsunari?” Hideyoshi frowned. “You’ve been watching them a lot.”

“I can’t figure out this feeling,” the vassal admitted to his Lord. “I don’t want to let her go anywhere. My chest feels heavy just to see her with another man in such close quarters.”

Toyotomi paused and hung his head. “That’s love, Mitsunari,” he smiled weakly at the silver-haired male before patting him on the shoulder.

Nobunaga was insistent that I ride back to Azuchi with him, and in his arms instead of behind him. He gave me a look that said I wasn’t going to persuade him otherwise, though it was just so I could sleep since I had been up most of the previous night. Shin was starting to lag behind, so one of the aides snuck him onto one of the carts carrying some of the medical supplies. He was tired since he didn’t try to get back off once, and instead just went to sleep as Oda tapped me on the nose and told me off for fighting sleep.

The Uesugi-Takeda forces would be arriving in Azuchi once they had regrouped and resupplied themselves at Echigo. And I was going to have a hectic time as the mediator.

War councils were officially my least favourite things. I had run out of sour candies to go with my sake, though unfortunately for my brother, I had found that pickled plums were nearly as good and the only adequate substitute so far. Both of us reached for the last one in the middle of one of Mitsunari’s reports, and then locked eyes.

“I’ll fight you for it,” I smirked.

I could hear the bets being placed as I parried off Kenshin’s single blade against my dual short swords. I ducked under his arms, but neither of us seemed to be getting the upper hand as I was going to sneak attack from Shin to get the advantage.

“Hey,” I frowned, leaning over to an empty bowl, and a very innocent looking husky. “Ugh, he had it,” I pouted, losing all interest now in the fight and sheathing my swords.

“If anyone thought you two weren’t related, then we should just refer to this moment in time,” Sasuke smiled.

He had spent a lot of time with me explaining the wormholes, I had fallen through one to get to the modern era, and they had been trying to ‘capture’ me for a while as dates and experiences were plotted on a map where I had been deployed to. Something had obviously decided I wasn’t where I needed to be to grow up safely, Kenshin hated the sound of the future when it had all been explained to him as well, but he said that he was glad I was safe after all this time even if it hadn’t been him who had been protecting me.

Kennyo had sent spies to Azuchi recently, though Shin had been very busy with me on patrols. He knew what scent to go after, and had me running to corner some of Kennyo’s followers up trees. The barking would alert the guards, and they’d bring plenty of rope. The dungeons were getting pretty full, and it was going to be soon that the former Abbott came to investigate.

I found it endearing that Mitsunari would like to accompany me on these patrols. He was constantly asking about where I grew up and seemed to understand the concept of wormholes a lot quicker than I did as I explained how I had arrived at Honno-Ji.

I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me just on the outskirts of the woods. It was so fiery and passionate, I couldn’t comprehend how the man could appear so composed with all of that going on underneath. He looked slightly embarrassed until I pulled the collar of his coat, so he was back on my level for a second one.

My short sword was out before we finished the kiss and stopping my brother from slicing Ishida in half. I gave Kenshin a judgemental look as Mitsunari was trying to establish what was going to happen next.

“Kennyo’s on the move, so I came to find you to tell you to pack,” Kenshin grumbled, glaring at Mitsunari as I started laughing. “And Oda agreed that you’re riding with me,” my brother glared.

“I’m not going anywhere until you turn around and stop threatening Mitsunari,” I argued, promptly turning my brother about to stop the warlord from getting distracted. “We deal with Kennyo first, then you can go back to murdering Nobunaga,” I grinned, enjoying the feeling of having a proper family for the first time in a long while.

“Nobunaga isn’t the one kissing you,” Kenshin shortly replied, hooking my arm through his and dragging me off as I waved and smiled broadly at the silver-haired angel who was struggling to keep up in the rampaging path that my brother was leaving.

Gossip was the only thing that moved quicker than my angry brother. The maids were all winking at me as we passed them, especially as Mitsunari came trailing after us as the castle was preparing to go to war. I was grinning like an idiot, and I knew it as I made sure I had everything I would need before going to see if Ieyasu needed any help with the medical supplies.

It was endearing me that Kenshin was acting in such an overprotective manner, it was a rivalry that only the vigour that Hideyoshi protected Nobunaga with could compete. Mitsunari would often end up staring at me as we travelled to the planned camp, and then I’d end up under a haori, or Kenshin would turn his horse around to fake needing to talk to Shingen or Sasuke. And it was blatantly obvious what was going on to the warlords around us. Once we set up camp, and light had broken, then it was a two prong attack on Kennyo with the objective of capturing him rather than killing, which did surprise me. Then again, I assumed the kitsune of the Oda forces would have some questions for the former Abbott. I was naturally to stay at the camp which I couldn’t resist doing an eye roll towards, which Masamune was laughing about while Hideyoshi was glaring at us both. Then Kenshin pointed out that I didn’t have any armour, Nobunaga didn’t appreciate the retort that it was only because I hadn’t been given any.

Shin had attached himself to my brother nearly as much as he was to me. When both of us were in separate places, it wasn’t that uncommon to have a husky running riot as he couldn’t decide who to try and ‘protect’ more. He whined as I had to practically push him out of the camp to go with Kenshin, though as soon as they shoved a rag with Kennyo’s smell on it, he bolted and the warlords followed on their horses.

It was mostly a waiting game until someone broke into the camp and set off the minimal guards that had been left.

“Princess!” Was my sole moment of warning before my swords locked into contact with a staff.

I wasn’t given any reprieve, and the man was trying to batter me into the ground using sheer force. I wasn’t as strong as he was, but I wasn’t as strong as any of the warlords. I was nimbler, and I was used to fighting against men who had the physical advantage. My trick was to use their own power and swings against them. It was my speciality to find the chinks in their armour as my dog came bounding through the campsite, barking his head off.

If I hadn’t been locked in battle and swinging one of my swords up to try and get Kennyo in the side, then I would likely have been laughing at the warlords’ expressions of disbelief. Instead, I was dodging the next blow that was aimed for my head as I swung myself out of the front line of his attack, and Shin finally joined in as the warlords made sure that Kennyo couldn’t escape the camp at any point before coming to my rescue.

“I think I need some training,” I grumbled as Ieyasu patched me up. My kimono was torn in more than a few places, and both Mitsunari and Kennyo were blocked the majority of anyone from seeing me, so I imagine that it looked indecent to them.

“I’m certain that you shouldn’t even be here,” Kenshin frowned. “Nevermind fighting off anyone like that,” he scoffed.

I was surprised to see Mitsunari wearing a similar expression to my brother as I glanced upwards. “Look, at least get me fitted for some armour if you’re going to insist on bringing me anywhere,” I argued. “And let me design something that’s easier to move about in then a kimono,” I grumbled bitterly.

“She’s got a point,” Ieyasu interrupted before either of them could say anymore. “She’s never been here by choice, and fighting is attracted to her, probably because of who she is. so get her outfitted properly and get her armoured and she’ll be able to protect herself, so no one else needs to do it for her.”

“I’m certain that Masamune would help me regardless of what either of you say,” I beamed brightly before I was promptly dragged back to the tent to get changed by Mitsunari while I laughed maniacally.

#kenshin uesugi #mitsunari ishida #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #Ikémen Sengoku

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jinkisbelly · 5 years

Text

Divination 2/?

Hi, this is a big au that I started writing like early 2015, but I’ve been rewriting and reworking it for jjongsmonth that @rollarscoasterwrite is doing again this year, so ^^ 2K18 jjongmonth if interested Ao3 link AFF Link First part

Pairing: Jongyu

Rating: Pg-13 for a few curse words and Jinki’s emotionally abusive relationship with his father.

w/c: 2k

Summary: After both of his older brothers are assassinated, Prince Jinki must return home to take the throne. Given the circumstances, he’s given a new, special guard. Jonghyun Kim of Jyee

Jinki bowed at the waist, hands clasped in front of him, as the older man entered the center room of the Keep. “Hello, Master. It’s been quite a while.”

“Almost four years, my young apprentice.” The man scowled, wrinkled features twisting with the expression. “You could have at least wrote.”

“I should have, I apologize.” The air in the room was pleasant and gentle, but it all froze as Jinki’s gaze shifted to his right to where Jonghyun was standing near the arched doorway. “Let’s continue this in the next chamber. Alone.”

Jonghyun kept his gaze until Jinki turned and broke the contact, disappearing up the stairs into the next room. He swallowed thickly, realizing just how much he had fucked up not telling Jinki what he was.

-----

The ride back to the castle was silent and uneventful. Night had begun to settle as they rode into the courtyard. When Jinki quickly dismounted, Jonghyun followed without a word. He lost track of the possible intended destinations as he followed him through hallway after hallway, twisting through the expansive castle. Until he stopped, waving his hand to force a large door at the end of the wide hallway open. Before he could get close enough to see what or who was in the room, he overhead Jinki calmly ask. “Do you hold so little value of me that you would hire a lithe to protect me, Father?”

Jonghyun silently stepped into the light coming through the doorway, standing just in front of the opposite wall. Around Jinki he could see the King sitting at a very large desk and a few dignitaries that looked fairly important. The red tint forming on the King’s skin showed how angry he was becoming. His voice was loud and booming as he stood from his chair. “This is absurd. How dare you storm in here, questioning my actions.”

“It is my life. My safety. I’ll question whoever puts those at risk.” Jinki’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Jonghyun couldn’t see his face, but with the tension present in his back, he could only image\ine the defiance written on his expression. “I should have been involved in the decision, but of course, Your Majesty, my opinion on important matters means not to you.”

When the King spoke again, his voice was softer, almost too quiet for Jonghyun to catch what was said. “I will never understand why they had to be the ones to die.”

Jinki didn’t move at the words except for the way his fists curled tighter. His voice was steady and firm. “I apologize for existing. I know you’d rather I not.”

Then he turned on his heel and walked from the room. Jonghyun caught his gaze for just a moment, but that was enough to see the pink of his eyes and the trembling of his lip. Jonghyun pressed his lips together before following a few steps behind. When they arrived at Jinki’s rooms, the Prince walked to his bedroom and pulled the curtain. Jonghyun tried to ignore the soft sounds of his cries for the rest of the night.

-----

For weeks, Jonghyun tried to respect Jinki’s wishes to not speak unless absolutely necessary. He would walk a few more steps behind him, hold his tongue when he thought the man’s plans for traveling detail were ignorant and was short and sweet when spoken to. He also refused to use any magic around him, which Jonghyun knew was a conscious decision from how much the man had used it the weeks prior to the trip up to the keep. Try as he might to be patient, as the sixth week passes without a change to the relationship between them, Jonghyun has had enough.

It’s after dinner, the empty plates stacked at the end of the table in the middle of the room. Jinki is sitting at the head of it, leg crossed over the other, book in his lap and hand holding his head up as he leans on the arm of the chair. Jonghyun clenched his teeth before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. It was now or never. As his eyes opened he kicked the door closed, flicking the lock. “We need to talk, Your Highness.”

Jinki looks up slowly, eyebrow raised as he calmly says. “Indeed we do.”

“I cannot guard you if you have no trust in me. We cannot go on with this agreement when you refuse to speak to me for more than just a few words when you can’t ignore me.”

The prince hums, closing his book and straightening against the back of the chair. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

“I should have told you what I was, but I was under the impression you knew. You must understand the level of vetting I was required to go through to be given this job.” He sighed, flexing his fingers where he held his hands behind his back. “I mean you no harm. Besides, you’re one of the only wizards alive with a power that being a lithe doesn’t protect me from.”

That gets Jinki’s attention as he leans forward in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly. “How do you know about that power? It’s not in my records.”

“There are rumors, Your Highness, of the youngest Prince refusing to touch people because of a power to enslave their minds. The way you reacted to me kissing your hand when we first met cemented my suspicions.”

“You could be wrong.”

“But I’m not.”

A slight pause before Jinki relents, eyes fluttering for a moment before they're just as cold as they were. “You knew of these rumors, found them to be true, and yet here you are almost desperate for my trust in you.”

“I had no ill intentions toward you, Your Highness, so I felt that you’d never feel threatened enough to have to use it.”

“What’s to say I won’t use it anyway to guarantee your loyalty?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Like most of the time he had been in his service, reading him was difficult with the blank stare reflecting back at him. He gently reached behind his neck, unclasping the neck guard and holding it in front of him. “For you to trust me again, Your Highness.”

Jinki doesn’t move for some time, eyes focused on the skin newly revealed to him. Then he rises gracefully, the skirt of his robe falling around his legs as he takes the dozen steps to him. His hand slowly lift before Jonghyun can feel the soft warmth of his touch against his neck. Jinki’s still expressionless as Jonghyun lifts his chin and holds his gaze. For a few stagnant, fearful moments, the hand remains and Jonghyun holds his breath waiting to feel the power wash over him, but then the hand is softly removed as Jinki looks away. “My trust has never meant that much to anyone.”

“It does to me.”

“You have it.” Jinki finds his gaze again, shoulders straightened as he says, “I have had convicted war criminals beg on their knees for that power to not be their punishment, and yet you stand before me willing such punishment just to show the importance of my trust in you. Interesting.”

“I’ll do what I must to protect you, Your Highness.”

Jinki turns away, returning to his chair and his book. He smooths out his skirt with his hands before he looks up again. “Never ask that of me again.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Jonghyun gives a soft smile. “One more thing, if I may?”

“It just so happens tonight is a fortuitous one for you, Jonghyun. What is it?”

“Try to not allow your father’s incorrect views of you tarnish your self-worth.” Jonghyun then bowed his head slowly. “May I be dismissed to my room for the night, Your Highness?”

Jinki stared at him, blinking rapidly for a few minutes before he closed his eyes and waves his hand at him. “Yes. Goodnight Jonghyun.”

------

The warm sun filtering through the tall, glass windows told Jinki is was at least mid-morning, and although he knew he had a fitting today with the tailors for his coronation attire, not a bone in his body wished to move itself from the comfort of his bed. He groaned quietly when he heard Jonghyun’s voice from the other side of the partition. “Your Highness?”

“Please go away.” He grumbled.

“I have your breakfast.” After another moment, he spoke again. “May I come in?”

Jinki lifted from his pillows just enough to look toward the direction of the voice, squinting at the shadow. “Are you going to make me get up?”

Jonghyun chuckled quietly, “I cannot make you do anything, Your Highness. Only strongly advise.”

“Fine. You may enter.”

Sure enough, as Jonghyun entered there was a tray in his hands. The curtain fell back into place as he stepped closer to the bed. Jinki grumbled quietly before pushing up off the bed and turning to sit up. His blanket fell to his lap just as Jonghyun moved to rest the tray across it. “I must say, I never pictured you to be so morose in the morning, Your Highness.”

“Bite me.”

That must have tickled him for how he was trying not to laugh. “Enjoy your breakfast. I’ll be outside when you wish to be a human being, Your Highness.”

Jinki pretended to not notice the double take Jonghyun made as he turned to leave the room. What? It’s not like he hadn’t seen him half naked before… Right?

-----

“Ah, I’m so happy you’ve decided to grace the world of the living with your presence, Your Highness.”

Jinki flicked his braid over his shoulder and looked at him. “Can we go back to the silent treatment?”

“Trust comes with sass. I don’t make the rules.”

“I feared as much.” Jinki sighed deeply before pushing his dagger into it’s place on his thigh. “Let’s go get this over with.”

Jonghyun grinned, and it widened as Jinki rolled his eyes.

----

As they left the great hall, Jinki’s jaw was clenched tight, his hands curled into soft fists at his side. He hadn’t realized the direction he had walked in until he looked up at staring down at him was the official portrait of his Grandfather. The silence of the room was shattered as Jonghyun softly asked, “What is this place?”

“The Hall of Kings.” He quietly replied, gazing up at the man he had fond memories of as a young child. The man wasn’t around for very long, in his late eighties when he was born, but the few years he was around Jinki could remember vividly. Sitting on his knee and being told outlandish stories, the pride reflected in his eyes when he witnesses a power, the love. He missed that. Love. He wasn’t sure if he remembered what that felt like. “Each reigning monarch has an official portrait painted during the first few years of their reign. Usually. My grandfather wanted to look more established and waited until his thirties.”

“When do you plan to have yours done, Your Highness?”

“When I don’t look like a child.” He moved away from the portrait, walking down the hall, further into time. “I would really appreciate not being preserved for all time and being remembered as the boy King.”

“You should wear blue during it, Your Highness.” Jonghyun smiled sweetly when Jinki gaze him a sideways glance as they walked, “The color they chose for your coronation works well with your complexion.”

“Thank you, I suppose.” He gave a quick, easy smile before it vanished as quick as it showed. “Besides, I have to make it to the throne before I really think about my portrait, don’t I?”

Jinki stopped in front of the last known Wizard King, a hundred years prior, as Jonghyun softly asked, “Do you have an inclination that you won’t make it to your coronation day?”

“Anything is possible, Jonghyun. We’re all going to die someday. Who am I to second guess the grand design?”

Then he turned sharply on his heel and headed toward the door on the opposite end of the room, soft fabric swirling around his legs, ending the conversation as his boots echoed off the marble ceilings.

-----

#jongyu #onjong #jonghyun #onew #shinee #my fic

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rpsquad · 6 years

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71 - “You really have no clue who I am?” - Alburn at Cole

Alburn may not have been scheduled to roam the gardens, strictly speaking. He may of, in actuality, been told to stand at the door of the gardens and watch for people that weren’t supposed to be there. But, as long as long as he could see the garden entrances, Alburn felt that it doesn’t really matter. After all, it didn’t really matter as long as he knew who was here. And perhaps looking like a strong and tough knight who had a fondness for flowers would help his luck with the ladies. Maybe. Perhaps.

But to say that he wasn’t paying attention would be a lie. So when the short and skinny kid with the flaming red hair walked in, Alburn made a beeline to him. After all, this was the Queen’s garden. Not just anyone could walk in.

“Um, hello, young man.” Alburn started. The teen immediately looked up with an almost scared expression “Sorry, but are you allowed to be in here? You do realize this is the Queen’s garden and therefore part of the castle. Only guests and castle staff are allowed.” The teen started to relax and grin

“Oh sorry, I’m new. My name is Cole.” The kid held out his free hand to shake Alburn’s, which Alburn accepted because he isn’t rude “I just started a few days ago as a member of Prince Agares’ council.” Alburn looked understandably startled because ‘Wtf, Agares told me nothing about hiring anyone’.

“Excuse me, what?! I think I would have known if the Prince had been looking for someone new. And, no offense, but they don’t usually pick twelve-year-olds for the future council. So, unless you tell me the truth kid, scram.” The kid hadn’t seemed bad at first, but Alburn hated lairs, and this kid had to be lying. Right? The kid looked nervous and was shrinking away, but he also looked determined

“Alright, look.” the kid said “What are you, a guard? How would you even know? And besides, I’m 18. I know I’m not that short.” Alburn thought that the kid really was as tall as his littlest sister, who was almost thirteen, “And, also, I’m holding official documents with the King’s signature on them and the ink isn’t even dried yet. So yeah, you’re going to have to believe me and let me pass, alright?!” Alburn had to say, this kid had guts.

“Hey, kid. I don’t care how old you are and that signature could be a forge for all I know. And also, I’m a knight who’s actually the next in line for head knight right after the Prince so I’d watch your mouth if I were you.” Alburn was starting to get sick of this. He hated arguing with people, especially when his half what just barking in the face of a kid he didn’t know.

“Some knight you are, stuck in the garden to watch the flowers.” ‘Okay, it might have been a punishment for leaving the barracks after curfew without a valid excuse(Note: Going to the kitchens for a midnight snack to not accepted) but it wasn’t that bad, thank you very much,’ Alburn thought “And really, were could I get a forgery of the King’s signature at mid with ten minutes of the castle? Honestly, this is ridic- Hey, Prince Agares! This knight won’t let me in the garden!” The kid yelled over Alburn’s shoulder. Alburn looked behind him quickly to check, and yes, that was definitely the Prince.

“Yes, Agares, could you please clear this up? This kid says you just hired him for your future council or whatever.” Alburn’s mood improved greatly when he saw his friend. Besides, surely Agares would fix this really quick, right?

Prince Agares looked between the two with a confused expression. “Goodness,” he spoke, chuckling slightly. “I see there’s been a sort of misunderstanding.” The Prince smiled before explaining. “Alburn, this is Cole,” he gestured to his newest hire as he spoke. “I indeed hired him for my future council, so please allow him access when he arrives.” he looked to Cole. “And Cole, this is Alburn. He is one of our most capable knights. I imagine you’ll see each other fairly often, so I would hate for you two to get off on the wrong foot.” he explained.

Alburn sighed “Well, okay then. I suppose.” he grinned and looked at his friend “You should really pick people who don’t look ten. No one is going to believe him when he says he’s working for you. He’s as tall as Ari, for goddess’s sake!” he paused “Also, why’d you never tell me your father started searching for your hand? I totally wanted to vet the guy before you choose him.” he paused again, looking confused and turning to Cole “Also also, you really have no clue who I am? Really? I’ve been in more duels and jousts and sports than I could ever remember.” That was a lie. He had been in fifteen competitions as a knight and twice that in his life, “Surely you’ve seen this handsome face around somewhere? I’m in the area for everything.” Cole shrugged.

“Sorry, I was a sickly kid. And I never understood why people liked watching other people fight so much. It’s too brutal for me. I’ll stick to my books.” Alburn rolled his eyes, but he supposed he could respect that. The kid was probably damn smart if Malladus picked him this young.

Agares watched them converse intently. “Well, I hope that despite your… vastly different interests, you two will still be able to be friends. I think it’s possible, truly.” he smiled. “Anyway, I actually came by to chat before my father drags me back to my books, so it’s good that I caught you two together even if it was because of a misunderstanding.”

“Well, I would try to shelter you but I rather like my position, so no thank you. Cole, was it? I suggest you do the same. The King is brutal with Agares sometimes. And, uh… No offense, but you don’t seem like the… Type the King likes. Take it from me, keep your mouth shut around the guy.” Alburn, whose mother was actually a half-blood herself, knows that Cole is not a full demon and really doesn’t want the kid to be caught too off guard. Cole seemed to shrug it off a bit.

“Thank you for the warning, Sir Alburn. I’m afraid I haven’t spoken to the king yet. I’m rather nervous about it. I don’t even know when I will. I inquired to some of the staff about it, but none of them really seemed to care. Although, from what you're saying, I guess I shouldn’t look forward to it?” Cole was looking at Agares at this point, trying to figure out his opinion on the subject. Alburn was also watching Agares, wondering if there was another rant coming straight at them.

Prince Agares sighed deeply. “Alburn is correct. My father can be incredibly judgemental. I will do my best to be with you when you first speak with him, however, I assure you that you will be caught alone at some point. Simply be on your best behavior, and you should be fine.” he sighed once more before beginning a proper rant. “Though honestly, his nerve never ceases to amaze me.” The Prince continued to rant for what had to be quite a few minutes.

Alburn quietly sighed and shook his head multiple times during the rant. The knight had found that Agares only really needed someone to listen to him since his father was the King and there was nothing to be done. Although, truthfully, Alburn agreed completely with everything the Prince said, even if he didn’t always listen. He noticed that Cole was listening intently and trying to give suggestions that would quickly be shut down by logic of ‘He’s the king, remember?’. Alburn felt bad for the kid, he was only trying to help. Soon, as Agares was winding down, he spotted the king in the second story window. The demon hadn’t looked down yet, so Alburn made a quick quieting motion to Agares and then quickly went back to his post, dragging Cole with him. Cole was confused and annoyed, but would probably be grateful later.

Agares had clearly been hoping to rant for longer, but Alburn spotting his father sent him back towards the castle and presumably back to his work.

After Agares left, Alburn sighed and let go of Cole. “Sorry, I saw the King in the second story window. We should be fine now.” Cole nodded and took his arm back. “But still, I should stand here for a while, just in case. The man loves to try and catch me doing something wrong. You should probably go find somewhere quiet and more hidden to read.”

“Yes, I think I’ll do that.” Cole nodded, seemingly to himself “Well, I suppose I’ll see you around. After Prince Agares came, it was nice to meet you.” He grinned and waved, seeming to about to be leaving. Allburn grinned back

“I don’t know if I’ll see you.” Cole looked momentarily confused “You might be too short.”

#Cole #Alburn #Agares/Malladus #Cambrie write this #Ella helped #She mostly just wrote Malladus #Who is a pain to call Agares #Also she adopted Alburn #And his lil sis #And she loves them even though they're like three days old #Ella = weirdo #I love them to tho #tbh #i have no idea what Alburn looks like #oops #also justed finished #so it might have mistakes #double oops #triple opops cause like im alive

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redconfidential-blog · 7 years

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I’ve been up and away again. This time, to visit the Queen! Okay, that was an exaggeration but, I’ve been in Great Britain for a few weeks, touring some parts of Her Majesty’s Kingdom and as usual, I will be sharing my experience with you! But first, let’s talk about Britain and its people.

Before I go any further, it is important to explain that despite being used interchangeably, the British Isles, United Kingdom, Great Britain, and England actually refer to different things. The diagram below explains this difference succinctly.

The Difference Source: http://brilliantmaps.com/eng-gb-uk/

British Culture I’ve come across unintelligent comments on social media like “white people don’t have culture” and that just isn’t true. Mostly Caucasian, Brits are generally soft-spoken and extremely polite. They are reserved or snobbish as my Brit friend said. They aren’t likely to start a conversation with a stranger but if you started one, they’d respond pleasantly. Most people are helpful with directions and general inquiry and if you are familiar enough, you’ll be invited to have some tea.

With regards to fashion, Brits sense of style is very muted, with most of their clothes in dull colours like pale pink, grey, navy, dark blue or black, and their jewellery very discrete. Generally, they seem not to have a single flamboyant bone in their bodies. The women love leggings, and the teenage girls pair them with cropped tops despite the biting cold. The majority seem not to be wearing any underwear, not that it’s a punishable offence.

Brits and Tea

His name is Shadow

Now, if you’ve wondered where the phrase “every man and his dog” came from, I’m quite certain it’s Great Britain. For most Nigerians, our dogs are primarily security guards, bred to bark and alert us of intruders, and if necessary in the course of duty, take a bite or two of them. A Nigerian with his dog outside the home is most likely going to the vet. But it’s quite different with Brits, who appear to really love their dogs and seem to go almost everywhere with them. On the bus, the train, the morning run, taking a walk, everywhere you look, there’s a dog right next to the baby in the buggy and they come in all kinds of breeds. From the sausage-like ones that give new meaning to hot dogs, to the massive, well-fed and wolf-like, that breathe life to the direwolves of the North. To my surprise and delight, they are mostly well behaved, friendly even.

As much as they love dogs, most Brits appear to also enjoy gardening. On Sunday morning while we are getting dressed and rushing to church, many of them are otherwise purposefully dressed, down on all fours pruning and planting, and they do a good job of it too. These gardens spot the most beautiful flowers and very often fist-size roses.

Landscape The British countryside is a lot like walking into a bedtime story. I grew up on Ladybird books with stories and poems that talked about castles, houses with chimneys that Santa could climb down at Christmas, picturesque woodlands, sheep in the meadow and the grass rippling in the wind, and classic lonely cottages where the witch could be about to cook Hansel and Gretel, all so surreal. Unlike in Nigeria, no one’s sheep or cattle is roaming free on the road. They are all respectfully confined to their farms.

Money The Great British Pounds (£, GBP) otherwise known as Pounds Sterling is the official currency of Great Britain. It is one of the strongest currencies in the world, ranked 4th most-traded in forex markets, after the United States Dollar ($, USD), the Euro(€), and the Japanese Yen(¥). Bringing this home, one Pound Sterling sells for 470 Naira, and one pound is a coin.

Coins from Coin Purse

GBP Coins

Coins and Notes

This brings me to my first inconvenience: Carrying and Spending Coins. Unlike Nigerian currency, coins here are valuable. Drop a one or two-pound coin, and you have lost N1000. The least valuable coins are one and two pence, the “red” ones, equal to 5 and 10 Naira approximately. To get rid of as many of them as possible, I had to do some mental maths and a lot of counting.

Weather In my limited experience, the weather south of Britain is much better than up north. I’m told the best time to visit is between June and September. It’s still cold compared to Nigeria but it’s so much more bearable. Most of the time, a hot bath and some tea kept me warm. I’d like to visit during the winter just so I can see it snow, but the way they describe the bitter cold, I don’t think I’ll survive it.

Sunrise

Me freezing

Sunset

Another inconvenience was Sunset and Sunrise. That thing about longer days and shorter nights we didn’t really grasp in geography class? It’s real here. I crawled out of bed to pee at about 4.00am and light was sipping in through the curtained windows. The sun was rising! I couldn’t believe it, especially since the sun didn’t completely set till about 10.00pm the previous night. With only 5 hours of true darkness, it was difficult to sleep or keep track of the day. It looked like 2.00pm outside but it was actually 6.00pm.

Language Thanks to colonialism, communication in Great Britain is easy because we speak English fluently. However, I learnt that it is necessary to speak slowly and to pronounce one’s words slower and carefully so the Brits can understand, because believe it or not we have a Nigerian accent. This is why people who are foreign-based pick up a foreign accent. It’s not to sound bourgie, it’s just an adaptation to the society they have been in.

Drinking Tap Water

Drinking Tap Water We don’t drink water straight from the tap in Nigeria. In fact, if you do that in Lagos you are most likely to end up in the hospital. We drink bottled water when we are financially buoyant or pure (sachet) water otherwise. In Britain, it’s the exact opposite. According to Prof Paul Younger, of Glasgow University, “Water coming from UK taps is the most stringently tested in the world,”. The tap water is checked daily under a rigorous inspection regime and is widely believed to be safer than bottled water. This was really difficult for me to adapt to. Getting drinking water straight from the tap always felt unhygienic. In thirst, I’d fill my cup but only take down a few sips. This left me dehydrated a lot of the time.

Trying British Foods I enjoyed some typical British foods but I kept a lid on it because my budget was small.

Full English Breakfast which is otherwise known as a fry up is made up of sausages, some bacon, baked beans, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms and bread. Nothing really special in my humble opinion, because we have all of these at home.

Scones are a mouthful everyone should try. It’s more or less hard cake.

Crumpets are my favourite only because they look divine in pictures. They are really just bread made in a pan and they go well with jam and butter. They are a little too salty for my taste but I intend to make a saltless version when I get back home to Abuja.

Branson Pickles are an absolute delight in a ham sandwich

Marmite is salty and absolutely disgusting. Don’t even touch it.

Worcestershire Sauce is the one no one really knows how to pronounce. WorCHester or WorSester, it’s great in Ceasar salad and perfect in meat marinate. Get some.

Finally, you have to try Cornish Pasty by West Cornwall Pastry Co. Thier potato wedges are beyond delicious and for a decent price of one pound. It was so good I didn’t remember to take pictures fo you all, so I have included a few stock images.

Trekking Up and Down The transportation system here is very organised and for the most part timely, so most people use the bus or the train to get around. Consequently, you have to trek to the bus stop or train station. As a Nigerian, I differentiate walking and trekking based on 2 things; distance and purpose. If it is leisurely and short, it’s walking. if it is purposeful, brisk and longer than 12minutes, it’s trekking. Cab fares here are quite steep and an ordinary 20-minutes walking distance can easily cost you some 10 quid which is some N5000! So I trekked. I trekked in the sun and even in the rain (because it started raining out of the blue and cabs aren’t readily available like in Nigeria) while being mindful of stepping in dog poop like dodging landmines.

Running Shoes

On the upside, while trekking, I didn’t sweat because the weather was cold, but I had to pee often, and my fitness improved tremendously. In all of this walking, trekking and running, I cannot overemphasise how much you need a good pair of running shoes. If you overpronate like I do, Nike Zoom Structure is the shoe for you.

Using the Train As if trekking isn’t enough, finding my way around the train station was mind-boggling. I very often found myself running from one platform to another and back, trying to find and catch the right train. Fortunately, and unlike the Indian Metro, these trains have very comfortable seats.

Swindon Train Station

First Great Western Train

Train Tickets and Change

Some trains had wifi and sockets to charge your phones, laptops and other handheld devices. They had on-board toilets and a food cart selling cookies, sandwiches, beverages and other life-saving edibles. You are likely to undervalue these services and facilities until you are in for a 3-hour ride.

Overall, Great Britain is a good place to visit and relax, not just because there’s no language barrier, but for its tourist sites and heritage which I will focus on in my next post. In the meantime, root out your passports!

Discovering Great Britain I've been up and away again. This time, to visit the Queen! Okay, that was an exaggeration but, I've been in Great Britain for a few weeks, touring some parts of Her Majesty's Kingdom and as usual, I will be sharing my experience with you!

#Britain #Crumpets #Dogs #Farming #featured #flowers #food #Houses #Lagos #Nigeria Abuja #Tea #Trains #Trekking #water

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