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cassandraclare · 3 years

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The Whispering Room: James’ POV

Here it is finally — James’ POV of the Whispering Room scene from Chain of Gold. I wanted to wait until Chain of Iron was released to give more people a chance to read the book, and also because what we learn in COI does inform the scene. I hope you enjoy!

*art by Cassandra Jean

Cortana wove with her words, underlining each one with steel. She turned as her sword turned, and her body curved and moved like water or fire, like a river under an infinity of stars. It was beautiful—she was beautiful, but it was not a distant beauty. It was a beauty that lived and breathed and reached out with its hands to crush James’s chest and make him breathless. — Chain of Gold

James had felt a strange emotion when Daisy first took the stage at the Hell Ruelle. It was a mix of several feelings...

worry on her behalf, annoyance at Kellington, curiosity, and admiration for her bravery and poise. It was unfair of these Bohemians to force her to caper for them, and, he thought, a bit insulting to Shadowhunters in general. He supposed that Matthew had given them a rather unusual view of what the Nephilim were like in such circumstances.

And then she had begun to dance. And suddenly she was not Daisy, his old friend. She was Cordelia, whose name meant heart, whose every gesture was fire. Every earthly worry he’d had had been swept out of his mind. He was conscious only of Cordelia, whirling back and forth across the small stage. Cortana danced around her, shedding light like embers. The dull glow of the lamps illuminated her body, describing her every movement, her every curve as she danced. Her scarlet hair whipped around her in time to the music, and the golden light of the lamps in the Ruelle slipped across her skin, slow and hot, like beads of honey. The cadences of her voice, rising and falling, seemed to weave a cage of silken thread about her audience, and James was no exception.

Later, James would think it was odd that he had not compared her to Grace. Grace had never entered his mind at all. Cordelia danced, and by the end of her performance, James’s entire life had been disassembled and put back together in a new and different shape. He was conscious of Matthew, beside him, also staring as the crowd cheered, his sharp cheekbones flushed. He looked dazed; James couldn’t blame him.

Cordelia descended the stage and slipped through the crowd to come back to them, blushing at the looks and murmured comments she was drawing from the audience now. James could see the desire in the eyes that followed her. Everyone wanted her. He felt a dull fury. They had no right. They did not know Cordelia. She was more than just that dance.

When she reached them she let out a long breath of relief and smiled. She glowed with the exercise of dancing. Sweat beaded along her collarbones, shimmered between her breasts. Her eyes were bright as Cortana’s blade, strapped to her back.

“Bloody hell,” Matthew exclaimed. “What was that?”

A look of uncertainty crossed Cordelia’s face. James said, “It was a fairy tale, Math,” and Matthew nodded. His dark green eyes searched Cordelia’s face, as if looking for the key to a locked room he had only just discovered.

Cordelia looked uncertain. James couldn’t bear that. She’d been magnificent; she should know it. But he couldn’t say that, of course. It would only make her self-conscious.

“Well done, Cordelia,” James said instead; when he unfolded his arms; his wrist hurt and he wondered if he’d been clenching his hands.

Cordelia. He hadn’t called her Daisy, and she looked a little surprised. It seemed inappropriate, somehow. Daisy was Lucie’s friend, the Merry Thieves’ compatriot; he found it a smaller name than she deserved. Cordelia, though—she had been a queen, hadn’t she? Queen Cordelia, daughter of Leir, ruler of Britain before the Romans had ever landed on those shores. Like Boadicea, a legendary warrior queen. A blazing white fire behind fathomless black eyes.

“Anna has disappeared with Hypatia,” James said, noting the empty settee, “so I would call your distraction a success.”

Cordelia’s lips twitched into a smile. “How long does a seduction usually last?”

“Depends if you do it properly,” Matthew said, with a wink. James felt it as a spark of relief, a bit of lightness amid the feeling that something heavy was sitting on his chest.

“Well, I hope for Hypatia’s sake Anna does it properly,” James said. He registered, with the reflexes of a parabatai, that Matthew had gone still next to him, and wondered what was wrong. “Yet for our sake, I hope she hurries it up.”

All hint of Matthew’s jocular tone from before was gone. “Both of you,” he said urgently. “Listen.”

Did he mean all the muttering about Shadowhunters? Was he only noticing it now? It had followed them since they came into the place. But when James followed Matthew’s gaze, he found Kellington staring with an expression of vexation, not at them but at the door. All questions were answered as through the door came Charles Fairchild, looking around him with a haughty expression. He looked like was about to raid the place; so much for whatever work Matthew and Anna had done for Downworlder-Shadowhunter relations here.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. “Charles,” he sighed. “By the Angel, what is he doing here?”

Charles was, James thought, probably looking for them. He was making his way through the crowd and gazing around him. Luckily for them, the crowd was not interested in letting him through, and he was moving very slowly.

“We should go,” James said. “But we can’t leave Anna.”

In one way, at least, Charles’s arrival was helpful; it threw a bucket of cold water on the roiling heat that had gripped James’s heart since Cordelia had begun her dance. Back to the matter at hand: a demon, a Pyxis, a plan.

“You two run and hide yourselves,” Matthew said, still keeping his eyes on his brother. “Charles will go off his head if he sees you here.”

“But what about you?” said Cordelia.

Matthew shrugged, but James could see the tension in his jaw and his shoulders. “He’s used to this kind of thing from me. I’ll deal with Charles.”

Not for the first time, James wished that his parabatai wasn’t in such a hurry to sacrifice his own reputation. He exchanged a long look with Matthew, but Matthew was sure, and determined, and his desire to rush into his own humiliation was an issue that would have to wait. Nodding, he turned and caught Cordelia’s hand with his own. “This way,” he said, and she nodded back in acknowledgement. As he pulled them into the crowd he heard Matthew’s voice calling, “Charles!” in a hearty tone of pleasant, if entirely false, welcome.

James didn’t know his way around the place, and the crowd made orientating himself even more difficult, but after some trial and error he and Cordelia managed to get behind Kellington and slip into a corridor leading away. This wasn’t safe in itself, since from the main chamber one would have a clear view down the entire corridor. In fact, they were temporarily more exposed than before, and James’s hope for the hallway to take a quick turn or to contain large statuary to hide behind was quickly dashed. He continued to hold onto Cordelia’s hand, not that he needed to; she seemed to know her way better than he did.

Partway down the corridor, James caught sight of an open door — its silver plaque labeling it the entrance to THE WHISPERING ROOM. Swiftly he drew Cordelia inside, out of sight. He slammed the door behind them, causing a loud noise, but he thought it couldn’t possibly be heard over the crowd in the main chamber. Only then did he release Cordelia’s hand and take stock of their surroundings.

The room was dimly lit, but not cold: a scented fire burned in the grate, filling the space with the smell of sandalwood and roses. It was a study, he guessed, based on the gigantic walnut desk against the wall and the bookshelves opposite, but it was too richly decorated to be solely a place for studious contemplation. Phoenix feathers and dragon scales danced across the gilded wallpaper; there were no windows, but the walls were hung with patterned tapestries, the floor covered with a rug so thick James felt his boots sink into it as he moved further into the room.

Cordelia had leaned her back against the wall next to the door. Her eyes were closed and she was taking deep, full breaths, calming herself down. Cortana gleamed gold over her shoulder; the firelight gleamed a deeper gold on her skin, which seemed to take and hold its warmth. James curled his fingers in against his palm.

He wanted to touch her. He half-turned away, pretending to study the books on the wall. Any other time, he would have been fascinated by the titles. Now they seemed distant, neither immediate nor imporant. He could have sworn he heard his own heart hammering. He said, “Where did you learn to dance like that?” surprising himself with the roughness of his own voice.

His gaze snapped back to Cordelia as she opened her eyes and gave a little shrug. There was something magical about the dress she wore: it followed the shape of her own body rather than the shape of corsetry or whalebone petticoats. It slid softly against her skin as she moved, just as her dark red hair tickled the bare skin of her throat, her shoulders. “I had a dance instructor in Paris. My mother believed that learning to dance aided in learning grace in battle.”

The word grace pierced James like an icicle. He could not quite picture Grace at the moment, it was true; could not quite envision her face. He had given Grace his heart — that was an immutable fact, something he knew as he knew that two plus two equaled four. But he had to admit that at the moment his heart did not feel given. It felt like a thrumming machine inside his chest, pumping blood and heat.

“That dance,” Cordelia added with a quirk of her soft mouth that struck James like a blow to the stomach, “was forbidden to be taught to unmarried ladies. But my dance instructor did not care.”

“Well,” James said, keeping his voice steady with practiced control, “thank the Angel you were there. Matthew and I could certainly not have pulled off that dance on our own.”

Cordelia turned away from him, the smile still on her face, as though she were keeping it secret from him. She trailed her hand along the top of Hypatia’s desk. At one end was a stack of papers held down by a large copper bowl of fruit, and she brought her hand up to trace its rim.

James may have been distracted beyond the capacity for distraction he’d known before, but he was still a Shadowhunter. “Be careful,” he said warningly. “I suspect that is faerie fruit. It has no effect on warlocks—no magical effect, at least. But on humans…”

Cordelia pulled her hand back as though stung. “Surely it does not harm you if you do not eat it.”

“Oh, it does not. But I have met those who have tasted it. The say the more you have of it, the more you want, and the more you ache when you can…have no more.”

Cordelia was looking at him now, and though it took a great summoning of courage, he returned her gaze. In her dark eyes the silver and blue flames of the fireplace danced. James could not catch his breath. He had never felt this before, this breathlessness. It was like pain, but with a sweet, sharp edge. Like licking honey from a knife. He said, in a low voice, “And yet. I have always thought…is not knowing what it tastes like just another form of torture? The torture of wondering?”

The door shook on his hinges suddenly, making a clatter that made both he and Cordelia jerk their heads around to look at it. The knob was starting to turn.

Cordelia paled. “We’re not meant to be in here —“

James’s world closed down to just this: Cordelia was here, she was with him, and she looked frightened. He would do anything to stop that look on her face. He caught her in his arms, and the relief was incredible — he had not realized how much he wanted to be touching her until he was. Until he was holding her, and her strength and warmth and softness were all pressed against him, and her face was so beautiful it hurt, and her lips were parted in surprise and without another thought he kissed them.

He could feel her sharp intake of breath with his hands, clasped together at her lower back. She gasped, but did not draw back, or away — he thought he would have died if she had — she leaned into him, her full lips opening under his. She was kissing him back. He tasted honey, smelled jasmine and smoke. His hand slid up her warm cheek and into the soft fall of her hair.

Time stopped.

Cordelia’s arms were around his neck. Her lush mouth opened a little against his, and the kiss deepened. He moved his hand to the back of her neck to bring her closer. Her teeth grazed his lower lip, and he couldn’t help it; he moaned, and felt her tremble against him.

Very far away, a voice chuckled and the door closed with a soft click. This whole thing had been intended as a ruse, he knew, for the benefit of whomever was trying to get into the Whispering Room. Probably some Ruelle attendees, Downworlders most likely, who had snuck off for a rendez-vous.

Ruse accomplished, then. With intense regret, James drew back from Cordelia. Her hand, warm and soft and wonderful, was against his neck; her fingers stroked his pale white scar. Her eyes were fixed at the level of his shoulder. He could hear himself say her name — Daisy, my Daisy — instead of responding, she whispered, “I think more people are coming.”

He knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t care. He knew what she was saying: that she was asking and giving permission at once. All James’ life, he had struggled for control: control over his sudden falls into shadow, control over the dark world he could see, that was invisible to everyone else. He had worked and fought and trained for control every day, and for the first time in as long as he could remember it deserted him.

The walls he had put up burned to the ground in an instant as he caught Cordelia to him. He groaned against her mouth, his hands slipping over the silk of her dress, the hot satin of her skin. He undid the strap that held Cortana, got rid of it somehow — carefully, he hoped — and let himself fall back into delirium.

He did not ask himself why he had never felt desire like this before. He could not. He was lost in the feel of her, the incline of her waist, the flare of her hips, the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped. They were kissing wildly, uncontrolled; they fetched up against the desk, Cordelia’s back to it.

Her body bent backward in an impossible arch, her hands going behind her to brace herself. Her eyes half-closed, her head fell back, revealing the bare column of her throat. He pressed his lips there, eliciting a gasp of surprised pleasure.

His hands trailed up the sleek material of her dress — he could feel the heat of her skin through it — from her waist to the neckline of her gown. His palms followed her curves until the tips of his fingers were pressing into the bare bronze skin just above the neckline of her dress. She was sleek and soft and hot all at the same time, like nothing else he’d ever touched. He heard her whimper; she was saying his name, and his heart beat in time with her words: James, James, Jamie please.

The please undid him; shrugging off his frock coat, he caught hold of her around the waist, lifting her until she was perched on the edge of the desk. The material of her dress bunched around her knees, her thighs, as she took hold of his shirt by the starched front and kissed him. His mouth drove against hers, hot and demanding, even as he clambered onto the desk after her. She reached up her arms for him and he sank down on top of her, bracing his weight with a hand above her head.

He paused, just for a moment, looking down at her. Her scarlet hair fanned out across the desk, her eyes glazed, her full lips red from kissing. He was cradled by her body, her legs on either side of his hips, her skirt rucked up nearly to her waist. She wrapped her long, bare legs around him and he shuddered. What was in him, what he wanted, was inchoate but insistant, a force he’d never known. A yearning like hot wires in his blood, the pain-pleasurable ache of unbearable wanting that drove him to kiss her again, kiss her harder. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling at it as he kissed her breasts, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin until she gave a low scream and clutched at him with desperate hands.

He sank down against her and kissed her, hot and deep and hard. She arched into the kiss, her breath coming in gasps. He felt her through the thinner material of his shirt: the heat of her, the swell of her breasts against his chest, her hands smoothing over his chest, his sides.

His hands aching to touch her in kind, to find out what she liked, what made her gasp, and do it again and again . . . Nothing had ever felt like this, nothing. He’d known desire before; so he remembered, so he had believed. It turned out he had stepped into a puddle and thought it was the sea. As Cordelia moved in his arms, as her lips, he realized there was a depth to desire he hadn’t even guessed at: that it was more than just desperation, but joy and need and wanting and being wanted back. It was a fever dream, his hands sliding up under the heavy satin of her skirts, the salt-sweet taste of her skin, the soft sounds of her pleasure as she urged him closer, urged him onward, the desk seeming to spin beneath them.

He heard, as if at a great distance, the sound of the door opening. He lifted his head, saw the slim fair-hared figure in the doorway. Ice washed through his veins. Cordelia stiffened, began to scramble to sit up. No, he thought, but he couldn’t stop her, couldn’t blame her. It — whatever it had been — was over.

He slid off the desk. Already the fever was vanishing, that feeling —the glorious freedom from the burden of his own will — receding. Grasping at his control, he drew it around himself, reaching for his coat, turning to calmly meet the gaze of his parabatai.

“James?” Matthew said.

#the whispering room #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #the last hours #cassandra clare #cassandra jean #chain of gold

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howlingday · 3 years

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the girls of rwby (along with nora and pyrrha) are all goddesses who have come to judge humanity... it's not going well and should it continue humanity will be destroyed

only one man can save us, JAUNE ARC! he will have to seduce and romance every one of them to save us all!

.... so how screwed is humanity?

Vice and Virtue

Long ago, far longer than you may remember, there was a time when humanity was truly in it's darkest hour. Horrible, black beasts known as Grimm rampaged across the land, destroying everything man had made. It seemed destiny deemed us unworthy of living, and we were condemned to perish like smoke in the wind.

But then they arrived. Seven, beautiful goddesses fell from the heavens and slew the beasts. Humanity was saved, but the goddesses' work was not yet done, for each bestowed a gift upon us.

From Ruby, the youngest of the Seven, came steel. She taught us to forge tools and weapons to defend ourselves from the Grimm, should we be beyond their grace. Thus, she was declared The Daughter of the Forge.

From Weiss, the stern lieutenant of the Seven, came Dust, a magical element designed to imbue our weapons and tools with properties of the elements themselves! Thus, she was known as the The Heiress of the Elements.

From Blake, the most recluse of the Seven, came knowledge. She taught us to read and write, as well as gifted us with a broader perspective of the world at large. Thus, she was awarded the title of The Mistress of Tomes.

From Yang, the most aggressive of the Seven, came strength. She taught us to no longer fear the beasts, but to grow angry and strike back tenfold of what we lost! Thus, she was acknowledged as The Mother of the Heart.

From Nora, the kindest of the Seven, came joy. She bestowed upon us the gift of laughter, the ability to think positively, to shirk away the horrors of the dark and to accept the light. Thus, she was accepted as the Queen of Laughter.

Yes, yes, children. I am about to tell you of our final goddess; the one who leads both the Seven as well as ourselves. However, you must know that she was the only one of the Seven to not gift humanity with a blessing, for she foresaw a great darkness within humanity; a terrible, evil thing that corrupts us, and forces our will to sin. So, instead, she ordered us to obey the Doctrine of Destiny.

Yes, my children; the very same Doctrine your parents order you to obey every day, from the Sun's Dawn to the Moon's Dusk. Thus, for this order, she was Pyrrha, Champion of Destiny!

Now, how do the Seven rule over us? Well, it all began long ago...

"Aaaaaaugh!" Nora screamed. "This is so boring! Can we please watch a different mortal?!"

"Not yet!" Ruby shouted back. "I need to see if he wins her!"

"You can look back at the dumb sword later!"

"I'll show you a dumb sword!" Ruby leaped over the table, tackling Nora. "It's called my fist!"

"Nora toss!" Ruby flew through the air, landing into Yang and Blake as the two were passing by.

Blake groaned as she sat up from her fall. She looked down at the dazed, smaller goddess, whose head was in her lap. Once Ruby came to, she immediately fell asleep. Blake grumbled and pinched Ruby's cheeks to wake her.

Yang, however, leapt from her fall and charged around the table, chasing the fleeing Nora. The shorter girl wailed and cried as she was pursued, but this did not slow the golden goddess. If anything, it spurred her to pick up her pace.

Weiss, sat down and watched as the mortal failed his test, the sword carried away by an older man, presumably his father. She swiped to a different mortal, who was cowering as another portal pushed him towards the water. Bored with him, she swiped again.

Pyrrha stepped down from her alcove to investigate the chaos. She watched as Yang chased Nora, Ruby sleep on top of Blake, and Weiss swipe across mortals on the viewing port. She sighed as she walked down the steps to the port. Extending a hand, she caught Yang, letting Nora continue to run. As Yang swung at Pyrrha, she caught her fist.

"Stop." Yang lowered her fist, and head, and sat down next to Weiss.

Pyrrha then made her way to Blake, trapped by the sleeping goddess in her lap. She knelt down and tapped her face. The goddess stirred, but did not wake.

"He failed." Ruby immediately awoken and rushed to the port. There she argued with Weiss to use it. Pyrrha helped Blake up and led her to the table, where she sat next to Yang. "Nora." The girl stopped, looking to Pyrrha. "Sit." She did as she was told.

Weiss returned the port to the downtrodden young man in the port. He was sitting on a stump, head down as he sighed.

"Oh no!" Ruby cried. "He did fail!"

"So what? It was just a sword." Nora commented.

"You're just a sword!" Ruby stood to restart her assault, but Yang shot her a glare, and she sat down.

"I'm sure it was a really good sword, but it's not worth fighting over." Yang said, trying to calm Ruby. She watched as the boy sat and moped, head in his hands. She twisted her face in discomfort as she thought. 'Could do without his moping, though.'

"Agh!" Pyrrha gripped her head as her emerald eyes shined with a beautiful, green light. As beautiful as it was, however, it could not compare to the agonizing burning sensation she felt in her head. The others watched, for they knew what this was. It was the reason she was the head of the goddesses, their leader blessed with a powerful gift. Pyrrha was recieving a prophecy, a vision of a destiny to be realized.

And from the pain she was in, it was a prophecy to come soon. A fate that often ended in a death.

The young man stood before Pyrrha, sword in hand. He raised his blade high above him, both hands gripping the hilt, and brought it low. The next image was of the young man weeping over the fallen form of the goddess. She lay still at his feet, his blade soaked in blood.

When Pyrrha came to from her vision, the others surrounded her.

"Step away," Weiss called out, "let her breathe!"

"What happened?" Nora kneeled next to Pyrrha, refusing to back away as the others had. "Did you have a vision?"

"Yes." Pyrrha stood on shaky legs as Nora guided her to her feet. "I foresaw that man, and he will be my death."

The others stood in silence, each slowly turning their heads to the morose lad on his seat. Nora and Ruby shared a look of concern, while Yang and Weiss grit their teeth in anger. Blake, however, approached the port. She studied the mortal as though he were a puzzle to be solved.

After a few moments, she sighed, looking back to Pyrrha. "What do you suggest?"

"I say we kill him!" Yang barked with rage. "A mortal who threatens the goddesses must be dealt with severely!"

"Must you be so barbaric?" Weiss rolled her eyes. "I suggest we place him in the Dust mines. Some hard labor will deter any attack."

"We could just, you know, ignore him?" Nora offered. "He doesn't have a sword, so I don't see why we should even bother worrying about him."

"I say we steal his sword!" Ruby leapt onto the table around the porthole. "He can't hurt us if he doesn't have it!"

Blake sighed, and walked to Pyrrha. Guiding her to her seat, she knelt next to her and massaged her hand. As Pyrrha regained her bearings, Blake asked again.

"What do you suggest?"

Jaune Arc carried hay from the storage unit to the stable. As he tossed it over the fence, two horses approached him, a stallion and a mare. The stallion was black with a fiery-orange mane, and a temper to match. The mare was white with a mane of gold, and spirit as gentle as a morning breeze.

The two shared this stable since they were purchased by his family years ago, since Jaune was only a lad. He had always dreamed of being a warrior, fit for his family name, but it seems he was only fit for tending to these two. But he didn't mind. These two were his responsibility, after all, so it wouldn't be fair to leave them alone for him to play hero.

Still, though, the thoughts never left his mind. He imagined battling ferocious monsters. He dreamed rescuing damsels and the innocent from the wicked. He fantasized traveling outside these lands atop his horse.

But which one? The stallion was certainly brave, if his temper was any way of telling. But his temper was mostly directed towards Jaune. If the boy traveled too close to the stable, the stallion would rear back and charge towards him, before tearing back again and stomping his hooves around him.

Perhaps the mare then? Ah, but where the stallion was bold, she was as shy. She would often hide away into the shade of the stable, leaving it's safety only for meals or when no one else was nearby. She wasn't a mare for heroics. To say she was a mare for anything besides shying away would be completely untrue.

As the two ate from their pile, Jaune leaned in and pet their heads. The stallion grunted while the mare's ears flicked. He smiled and leaned against the fence, sighing with satisfaction.

"Such beautiful creatures, no?"

Jaune looked to his right and saw a robed figure standing next him. They were tall, with a deep crimson robe with golden trimmings. The voice sounded feminine, leading Jaune to think the figure was a woman. She turned and smiled at him, the robe covering the rest of her face. "What are their names?"

"Names?" Jaune looked to the horses, holding his chin with his fingers. "I... don't know. We never named them."

"No? Beautiful creatures deserve beautiful names, no?" She extended her pale, delicate hand towards him. "Like yourself. I'm sure you have a beautiful name."

Jaune blushed a bit at that. "Uh, Jaune. My name is Jaune."

"Jaune." She said his name with a sigh, like it was a pleasant breeze on a clear, summer day. "Why haven't you named these horses, Jaune?"

"I... I don't know." He turned around and leaned back against the fence. "I never thought about naming them."

"Never?" Jaune shook his head. The woman pointed her finger at the stallion, who snorted and flared his nostrils at her. "You have a fiery soul; a temper like a volcano, and twice as dangerous. Henceforth, you will be Vulcan."

The stallion stomped his hooves at his naming, like a child throwing a tantrum. The woman giggled at this and reached into the stable.

"Wait! Don't-!" Jaune reached to woman, but as he grabbed her, he slipped and fell onto his face. He wiped to mud from his face and witnessed something unbelievable.

Vulcan, the stallion who never let anyone near his stable without an offering, placed his head against the woman's palm. He breathed calmly as she stroked her thumb along his hair. She removed her hand and kneeled to lift Jaune to his feet.

"What about her?" She asked, gesturing to the mare. "What would her name be?"

Jaune looked at the mare. She looked back at him, almost expectantly, as she shook her head. She was beautiful; a horse many would fight for just to have and gloat about it. If Jaune were a warrior, he would be proud to be held aloft by such a magnificent creature.

"Gloria." He said. "Her name is Gloria." She trotted by to her shade, but he noticed that she had livelier steps in her canter. He chuckled.

"But what about you?" Jaune looked to the woman. "Does this beautiful creature have a name?"

The woman chuckled. "Indeed." She removed her hood with a smile, and down her head flowed a beautiful river of hair that reminded him of a fire-pit, with piercing eyes like those of gemstone. "I am the disciple of my goddess, the Lady of Black, and my name is Cinder Fall."

#rwby #rwby au #rwby pantheon au #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #nora valkyrie #pyrrah nikos #cinder fall #jaune arc #my answer

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

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fic count: 12

mostly zoyalai because they have an iron grip on my heart

1. (part one) we will fight for you

Summary: weeks of tension and stolen glances after the mess in the Fold lead to a fight between Nikolai and Zoya, lashing on each other for their repressed feelings and pent up frustration.

- second half of the first chapter (sorry for my mess)

Summary: Genya decides to take matters in her own hand and have a honest talk with Nikolai about his fight with Zoya. A moment of friendship, pride and strenght.

2. (part two) the demon and the witch

Summary: after his talk with Genya, Nikolai comes to discover that Zoya took a ride out of the palace and got hurt. He rushes to her chamber and a confrontation ensues, the two of them not being able to hold themselves anymore.

3. (part three) blissful mornings

Summary: Nikolai wakes up beside Zoya and reflects on the sheer beauty of their first morning together. Until someone interrupts and their friends don’t miss the chance to tease on them.

4. just one last night

Summary: based on the “holding hands in the quiet of his bedchamber” snippet. Zoya visits Nikolai and she lets another one of her carefully guarded secrets slips, as they dance around each other like always. Some angst.

5. together now

Summary: Genya and Zoya are gettin ready together for a ball. A shared moment of sweet friendship, support and some teasing from Genya’s part.

6. our first lifetime

Summary: short take on how Nikolai proposes to Zoya, after the war ends and they finally find peace.

7. for other people, for other lives

Summary: basically some plotless angst between Zoya and Nikolai, circling each other and keeping themselves from falling into making a mistake. Based on the snippet “sweet words and grand declarations were for other people, other lives”.

8. burning flames and raging fires

Summary: the Fjerdan attack Lazlayon while Nikolai and the others are there. Zoya saves the day but gets hurt, and Nikolai loses it a bit. He then reflects on his feelings toward her in the doom of his impending marriage (planning to continue this one).

9. you are my endless summer

Summary: the epilogue we deserved for Row and never got. This is the one I’m most proud of thus far, I poured all my heart into this. Nikolai courts Zoya, finally proposes and we get to see the end (or start) of their story.

10. the blood in our veins

Summary: post Row. Zoya gets a letter that unsettles her. Nikolai holds her together, as he always does, and they both reflect on their families legacies and their still open wounds and hopes for the future.

11. the times we made a choice

Summary: the time Zoya saves Nikolai in the Fold. The time Nikolai asks her to be his general. And the times when they had win their battles and they can tell each other of those times.

12. i’d give us time if i could

Summary: Nikolai gives Zoya the dragon timepiece she wore in Rule of Wolves. And of course, we have pining and yearning and angst.

13. we’ll make flowers bloom from ruins

Summary: set months after the ending of Rule of Wolves, as Zoya, newly crowned queen, and Nikolai, her advisor, try to steer the country into peace while learning what it means to be together. As they struggle with their new roles and relationship, a new threat arises in Os Kervo, and they face it with the help of the Dregs and Nikolai’s sister, Linnea. Lot of emotions, angst, fluff, and characters’ study into their new journey. (Published in full in ao3)

Snippets: (x), (x)

Art for the fic: (x), (x), (x), (x), (x), (x)

#fic count #fan fiction #my writing #fan ficiton summary #zoyalai #zoya and nikolai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #nikolai duology #Grishaverse fic #grishaverse #king of scars #rule of wolves #genya safin #tolya yul bataar #tamar kir bataar #they own my soul #and im not sorry

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 3 years

Text

Tales of Heroes

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Klaus Mikaelson x @mikaelson-emma

Request: Hi! Could I request a imagine/one-shot were the reader is Hayley’s sister (a hybrid) and has a child, but scarified herself to save the Mikaelson’s? She could romantically involved with Klaus, but her child isn’t his. She asks him to have him tell stories about her to the child, and one day she gets resurrected. Or it could something else! I love you writing and I am excited to see that you are taking requests! I hope you have a good day! ❤️❤️ -@mikaelson-emma Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Nope. Nothing I can think of.

Author’s Note: I’M OVER HERE CRYING MY EYES OUT. Like you guys have no idea how emotional this one has made me. I really do hope that at some point Emma comes in and sees this. I hope that this is everything you wanted. I freaking miss you! On another note, Welcome to another day of May Madness. I hope you guys enjoy!

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

Laughter filled the air as Hope and Ava played in Hope’s room. The sound could easily be heard anywhere throughout the compound. The two cousins playing while using up the last burst of energy they had in their systems before bed. For the first time in centuries, there was a peace that surrounded the Mikaelsons that allowed the girls to be carefree.

There was enough peace that the Mikaelson siblings didn’t have to worry about looking over their shoulders for any enemies that may be lurking in the shadows. With the two young girls, the Mikalesons believed that even more danger would be on their doorstep. But that hadn’t been the case. They were safe. They wouldn’t be hurt by the Mikaelsons’ past and that was all thanks to Emma. Without her, there wouldn’t have been the peace they were living in.

Klaus leaned against the door frame as he watched Hope run after Ava with a pillow. Ava’s laughter had been followed with a shriek as the pillow in Hope’s hand had come into contact with her. Ava swung the one she had in her hand, hoping to get Hope away for only a moment before she attacked back.

The sight itself had brought a smile to Klaus’ lips as he watched them. The bond between the two cousins had reminded him greatly of Emma and Hayley. The two girls are inseparable just as their mothers were after their own reunion. Hayley had believed she didn’t have any family left. And when she found her fraternal twin after coming to New Orleans, there was no breaking them apart.

Emma had fit easily into the family. It didn’t matter how complicated things may have become, Emma was there for her found family. She would never leave her sister in a fight and she’d make damn sure that her own daughter and niece were safe. And when it came to making a sacrifice for the girls’ safety. Emma was ready and willing to pay the price.

Just promise me one thing. Emma’s voice played in Klaus’ head as he watched the girls. That if anything ever happens to me, you’ll take care of her.

Klaus could remember telling her that he should never have to make that promise. That Emma would always be around to watch as her own daughter grew. Emma had made him promise anyways. She had even gotten Hayley to promise as well. Emma needed to be sure that her daughter was taken care of.

“Alright girls,” Hayley’s voice cut through Klaus’s memories, pulling him back to the present. “Time for bed.” Hope and Ava whined in unison the moment the words left Hayley’s lips.

“Five more minutes, Aunt Hayley?” Ava asked as she watched her Aunt look over at Klaus for a moment.

“Hayley is right.” Klaus said agreeing with her. “You both have big days tomorrow. It’d be a shame if the both of you were exhausted before the fun even began.”

For weeks the girls had been asking about taking a trip to the state fair when it came. While Klaus and even Hayley were skeptical about taking the girls there, they had been assured several times that things would be okay. That things wouldn’t go wrong just because the girls wanted to have some fun.

It was Freya that had convinced her younger brother that they should go. That they should have fun without worrying about anything. To let the girls live as normal of a life as they could from time to time. Ava may have only been a year older than Hope, but the girls were needing interactions with the outside world. Away from the teachings of spells, or self defense classes.

Klaus’s words had made the girls toss the pillows back onto Hope’s bed before turning to each other and saying goodnight. Ava ran past Klaus and Hayley as she went into the room across the hall. It caused Klaus to chuckle as he pushed himself off the doorframe.

“I got Ava.” He said as he turned and walked towards the door.

A small smile pulled at Hayley’s lips as he watched Klaus do so. For as many times Hayley had warned Emma about Klaus, they found a way to be together. After the fights, after the accusations, there was something that Emma had seen in Klaus. The same thing Klaus had seen within her. They were willing to do whatever it took to keep their family safe. To do whatever it took to keep each other safe.

Klaus had stepped up as the father figure to Ava after Emma sacrificed herself. While Hope was still his daughter and he’d do anything for her, Ava was in a sense, now his as well. For the past year, he worried for her. Stayed up with her when the nightmares would scare her. When she’d break down crying simply because she had missed her mom. Klaus was there for her. He may have not been her biological father, but with how much he had grown to care for and love Emma and Ava, Ava had become like a daughter to him.

Klaus watched as Ava climbed into bed, the moment he walked into the room. It wasn’t long before a smile tugged at his lips as she burrowed into her bed. To see so much of Emma within the young girl had caused a tinge of pain within his chest. Ava smiled at Klaus as she pulled the blanket over herself and nodded her head, signaling she was ready for her favorite story.

It was during those nights that Ava had woken up from nightmares that Klaus would tell her the tale of her Mother. It was in a way that showed how much he had loved and adored her while proving she was the hero that saved them all. It had become Ava’s favorite story. One that needed to be told each night in order to keep the nightmares at bay.

He walked over towards the bed and sat down at the edge. His hand coming to rest on her feet, making her giggle before he moved them. “You have to promise right after, you��ll go to bed.”

“I promise.” Ava brought her small hand up and made an x over her heart. “Cross my heart.”

Klaus chuckled as he shook his head slightly. “In a kingdom in a far away land, there lived a Queen. One that was loved by not only her subjects, but the family she had created. The bond between them ensured they were kept safe from any enemy that may have threatened them. The Queen was not immortal. For even the genes she carried within her blood may have made her stronger, but even the strongest warriors have their weaknesses.”

He watched as Ava’s lips pulled into a smile. “For this Queen’s weakness was her beautiful daughter. The Queen would slay those who dared entered their kingdom in hopes of taking or harming the Princess. She’d return from battle with the blood of her enemies on her body, showing that she would do anything in her power to save her child.

“Even her family would face the invaders to help the Queen. So long as the Queen was there, the family would be invincible.” Klaus had lost count of the many times Emma had helped save them. The countless times she had been there to help protect them or to take down an enemy without any hesitation as to what his past held. “It wasn’t long before a new threat arose in the Kingdom. A dark creature entered the Kingdom, taking her loved ones one by one, threatening to take their lives.

“One night, while the Princess slept, the Queen went and made a deal with a very powerful witch.” As Klaus said the words he could easily see in his mind how Emma had gotten up in the middle of the night to meet with Freya. Klaus remembered watching as she walked into Freya’s room before a spell kept him from hearing the words they spoke, or even viewing into the room from the balcony. “The deal would ensure the Princess would be safe, along with the rest of her family. But the King that had courted her, tried to stop her from making the deal.”

“You are all in danger!” Emma had yelled as she stood in front of Klaus. “I can’t just sit by and watch as you all are targeted. We almost lost your brother. What other close calls are we going to have to make before you let me help?”

“What about Ava?” He asked, trying to keep himself calm. The way they had been screaming at each other wasn’t getting them anywhere.

Emma shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “This is for her as much as it is for you and your siblings. For my sister. For our girls to be able to live without a darkness looming over them. You have to let me do this. I’ll be able to come back from this.”

“No.” Klaus said as he shook his head before moving to place his hands on the sides of her face. “A spell like this, even I know there is no coming back from it. It will break Ava.”

“You promised to take care of her.” She said as she placed her hands on top of his as they rested against her face. “Just don’t let her forget about me. Talk to her about me, about us. Because I know that is the only thing that will make this easier for her.”

He took in her words before he pulled his hands away from her. Realization hitting him. This just wasn’t her saying she was going to try and do this. This was Emma saying she had already done so. This was her saying her goodbyes. He ran his hand along his face before he turned his head away from her.

“When?” He asked a moment later as he turned to look back at her. It was as he looked into her beautiful brown eyes, that he loved so much, that he found the answer he needed.

“But he had been too late.” Klaus continued. He watched as Ava’s eyes began to close. He knew she would be asleep towards the end of the story. “No matter how much the Queen had loved the King, she knew what needed to be done. The very night the dark creature came to attack, the Queen’s family had begun to fall. Slowly each of them had been hurt by the creature. The Queen knew she’d be the next to be hurt. And once she was, the spell she had the powerful witch cast, allowed her body to absorb the dark creature.”

Ava rolled on to her side, her hands coming up under her head, her eyes closed. “Mommy saved us.”

The words were soft. To any human, they would have barely been able to hear them. But for a hybrid, they had been loud in his ears. A sad smile pulled at his lips as he watched her eyes close. “That she did.” He said before continuing the story. “The Kingdom mourned the loss of their Queen. But there was one thing the King had promised the Princess. She’d always be safe. She’d always be taken care of. And she’d be told of her mothers heroics. The Queen would never be forgotten. It was her wish for stories to be passed on about her just as the stories of legends had.”

Klaus slowly stood from his spot before he watched Ava for a moment. She was sound asleep by the time he had finished. A smile pulled at his lips as he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Goodnight little one.”

“You were always so great at telling her stories.”

Klaus froze at the voice. He thought for a moment that there was some kind of trick that someone dared to do on him. Because after a year, he never thought he’d hear that voice again. His memory didn’t even do it justice.

His heart sped up for a brief moment as he slowly turned towards the door. He hoped that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Or anyone else for that matter. But as soon as his eyes landed towards the doorway, his jaw dropped slightly.

She was there. She was standing there in the doorway with a smile on her face as she watched his reaction. Klaus could see the way her eyes slowly filled with tears as he began closing the space between them. Without a second thought, he walked quickly over to her and pulled her into his arms.

Having her press against him had told him that this wasn’t a dream. That this wasn’t someone attempting to hurt him and the little girl that slept a few feet away. Emma was home and Klaus had every intention of making sure she never left his sight again.

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

Starlit Vigil

Dannymay Day 4: Stars _____________________________

Everything has a story to it, a tale interwoven into it’s very being from it’s birth to it’s death. Sometimes the mystery of the story is as much a story in and of itself.

Scientists and researchers can’t say when the constellation first appeared in the night sky. It could be seen above Antarctica, near where the edge of the continent meets the Indian Ocean. It confounded a great many people as stars simply didn’t appear out of nowhere. But these did, slowly over the course of several decades sometimes years apart but two appeared within hours of each other. Each new star, eight in total, had a glistening, almost unnatural twinkle to them. The constellation was named Mnemosyne after the Grecian goddess of memory and the stars eight of her nine daughters, better known as the Muses.

You’ve always had your eyes turned towards the stars and Mnemosyne in particular had always captured your attention. You can’t really explain what it is about those stars that speak to you. Maybe it’s sheer impossibility of their existence. Perhaps it’s the particular beauty of these stars, sometimes appearing to shift in shape and change colors. Or it could be the story behind the stars, the mystery that couldn’t be solved and so imagination filled in the holes left behind.

They say there was a great king, hundreds of years ago. A king who was powerful and kind and helped create the world as we know it. The land of the dead exists and certain people can interact with those beyond it. Technology and understanding have advanced dramatically and, while no life would ever be perfect, there was a general sense of peace that could felt in this world and the next. This king loved our world so much it’s said he plucked the greatest jewels he could find and placed them in the stars where he could watch over and cherish them forever. It’s a sentiment you can understand.

You study astronomy in school and when you’re given a chance to travel to the Antarctic Circle to study Mnemosyne, you can’t say yes fast enough. The bitter cold and isolation is a small price to pay to see your favorite constellation up close. Maybe when you see it with your own eyes, you can unravel some of the questions people have been asking over the years. Why the goddess of Memory? Why are the stars named after the Muses but missing the muse of astronomy, Urania? What is the true story behind the supernaturally bright stars that appeared out of nowhere?

It’s hard to sleep during the day, partially because it goes against your normal circadian rhythm but you’re also too excited for night to come. For the stars to come out. You bundle up in the warmest clothes, pack your cameras and notebooks and throw the highest quality telescope you can carry over your shoulder. Arriving at the best site for star gazing, you are so delighted by the clear skies and sparkling stars that it takes you an extra moment to realize that you’re not alone.

At first, you think it’s one of the many researchers conducting studies at the pole but it’s soon apparent that this is someone new. Their hair is stark white, almost appearing one with the blustering wind as it’s blown around. You can’t see what they’re wearing because a thick white cape covers them entirely; it has the consistency of freshly fallen snow. Atop their head floats a crown made of pure, crystalline ice. Your eyes widen behind your protective goggles. The existence of ghosts was common knowledge by now but it’s another thing to see one up close. You turn to leave, before the spirit notices you.

“Don’t leave,” he says quietly but despite the roaring of the wind, you can hear him perfectly clear. “You came to watch the stars too, I don’t mind. Mnemosyne is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” you say back without even thinking. “I would love to know their stories.” The ghost turns to smile at you and his eyes are a bright, glowing green without any pupils or sclera.

“Come, I’ll tell you about them.” You know you shouldn’t. While most spirits aren’t malicious, this one exudes a power you can’t even imagine. But you find yourself stepping closer anyway. You want to hear the stories of the stars and his smile is the warmest thing you’ll find for miles. Somehow you know this ghost won’t harm you. He points up at Mnemosyne and your twin gazes stare up in wonder.

“They say souls and stars are made of the same ingredients. When I was a boy, I loved this thought. There was something comforting in knowing that, no matter where I went, that I could carry the stars within me,” the ghost explains, looking at you joyfully.

“But unlike stars, souls are mortal, impermanent,” he says, his smile turning sad. “So I thought, why not put a soul into a star? Then it could last for eons.” He turns back to the stars with a melancholic expression. “Danielle was the first, my little sister. She was always fragile and after only a decade of life, one day she just broke. Her core was too damaged to become a full ghost so I offered her another way to live on. I took the brightness of her smile and made it into a star, into Euterpe. She was the muse of lyrics and poetry, they say she was the ‘bringer of delight’. It suited Danielle.”

“My enemy died next,” the ghost continues. “He hurt me and, moreover, hurt the ones I loved. But he was the only one who truly understood me. His existence comforted me no matter how much bad blood existed between us. His life was full of misfortune, most of it self-inflicted but his fear of death pulled on my heart. My last move in our battle was to make him a star as well, Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. I put him far away from Danielle, I think he’d hurt her.”

“My parents passed a few decades later,” the ghost whispers. “Mom went first, in her sleep. Dad always followed her example so it wasn’t a surprise when Dad followed her in death before the day was done. They were scientists, I think but they loved me very much. Things were tense, I remember being afraid for some reason but their deaths pained me. They were too fulfilled to become ghosts. I grabbed bits of their essence before it dissipated and made the stars Polyhymnia and Terpsichore, the muses of hymns and dance respectively. They were a perfect couple, partners in everything. A song and a dance, always in time with each other.”

The wind rustles the ghost’s cape, he clutches it as if he is cold. You cannot tear your eyes from the the soft grief on his face.

“Valerie went next, some sort of illness; I can’t remember the details,” the ghost frowned. “She had no desire to become a ghost, no matter how much I asked her to stay. I am King of All Ghosts and yet I got on my knees and begged for some part of her to keep with me. In the end, I stole a bit of her fading spirit and crafted Calliope, the assertive muse, the author of epic poetry. She shines so brightly up there like she had in life.”

“Jasmine died peacefully in her sleep like our mother. She was always protecting me, even in death. Her devotion to knowledge and my wellbeing kept her by my side for many years but it wasn’t enough to last forever. When her spirit was nothing more than wisps, I took her core and placed Clio with the rest of our family. The muse of history, the proclaimer of great deeds fit my older sister well.”

“Tucker and Sam stayed with me the longest. Tucker went first, a quick death from an aged body followed by years as the playful spirit I always knew him as. Sam, my life and my love, passed the same and was my queen in death as she’d been in life. But love can delay death but not deny it and their spirits needed to move on. I kissed them both, my soulmates and made them into stars. Thalia, the muse of comedy and idyllic poems for the light Tucker brought to me. Erato for Sam, muse of love and its poetry for all that she inspired and gave me.”

You see glowing tears running down his face, he holds his hands out to the night sky. His fingers are curved as if wanting to reach and tenderly brush the faces of people long gone. Only they’re not gone completely. You look at the stars with a newfound appreciation. They are no longer pinpricks of long dead light but people who lived and died and yet still lived on in such beauty. If you look closely, you can almost see them. Brushes of red hair, dark rugged skin, the glint of glasses, a flash of amethyst eyes.

“There’s no Urania,” you say quietly, the wind tossing them.

“Not yet,” he says longingly, “but soon. The Zone and the Earth are at peace, they won’t need my protection for much longer. When that happens, my spirit will leave this world and join my loved ones in the stars as Urania.” This ghost has been dead for longer than you’ve been alive, longer than many of your most recent ancestors. But his love can still be felt, still burns high above in the sky for everyone to see. What better eternity is there?

“May I tell their story?” You ask and he only nods in response, not taking his eyes off Mnemosyne. You get the feeling he has forgotten about you, caught up in the light of his loved ones shining down on him, waiting. All at once, you realize how late it is, how cold. You leave to return to the research shelter, to write the history of the miracle constellation.

The stars made out of souls, crafted by love.

Twelve years later, you are not surprised when you look up and see a ninth star in the constellation of Mnemosyne. It glows brightly, twinkling with the other muses as if in conversation. You can only smile through your tears, so profoundly happy that Urania’s lonely vigil is finally over and they have assumed their rightful place among the stars.

#dannymay2021 #danny phantom #i'm not crying you're crying #this came to me last night in the bath #the idea that Danny takes pieces of his loved ones soul and made them into stars #so that they can stay with him while he finishes his duty as Ghost King #I want to stress they all DID move on #these are just pieces of them #stars are echoes of light long gone and same for these stars #they're the memory of friends and family and enemies #people who meant so much to Danny that he blazed their souls across the sky so they could watch over him #while he finished he duty and waited to join them #Danny Fenton never went to the stars #but because of Phantom he was able to finally walk among them #arm and arm with the family of his soul #thats not a bad afterlife shining in the sky softly watching over the earth you spent so long protecting #dont fucking touch me #wanted to play with second person pov lmk if it sux #its danny fucking may now open up and eat your soft tender angst

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yan-twst · 3 years

Note

Hello ! Can I have a scenario with Lilia. The reader is a Fae warrior who fought alongside Lilia a long time ago. There's always been something between them but nothing happened because a relationship between warrior was forbidden. After several years they meet again at NRC when the reader brings something to Malleus. It's been in my mind for a while, so I'm trying! Thanks !

Centuries

pairing: lilia x gn!reader

word count: 2910

warnings: mentions of war, like one mention of blood

------

There really wasn’t time for love during war. There wasn’t even a chance to get comfortable, really- the fae warriors were supposed to be quick, efficient, ruthless: things like romance between warriors weren’t allowed, it was too risky, it could turn them reckless. Lilia, of course, knew this; he’d been well-warned a long time ago, and he’d seen the horrors of war upclose. It always hurt to lose a friend, but it’d hurt more if it was a lover. He didn’t care, really, he was there to fight in the name of the Witch of Thorns and not to build relationships.

Or at least that’s what he’d say when his fellow warriors would ask him if he had his eye on anyone. He was one of the more seasoned fighters, with lifetimes of experience under his belt and strength that betrayed his appearance, along with his powerful magic. It wasn’t unusual for the younger fighters to gather around him for chats or to hear stories, it was one of the few ways to lift the spirits in the barracks in the sparse times of quietness. Dating, or romance in general, was forbidden, sure, but it didn’t stop the younger soldiers from prodding and asking if he wasn’t getting a bit too close to a certain someone.

“You are all certainly nosy, aren’t you?” laughed Lilia as he put down his canteen. His squad had arrived at a small base in the Valley of Thorns’ border a few days ago as prevention, having received intel that some of the enemy army would probably try to get in while the greater part of the Witch of Thorn’s army was fighting off in the main battleground. Of course, the more elite warriors had been sent to safeguard said point in the border; amongst them two of the army’s best, those being Lilia and...

“Aw, c’mon, you can’t say you don’t like them at least a little! You’re always sticking by their side, sir!” one of the youngest fae spoke up, crossing his arms.

Them. Lilia and [name], two of the most skilled warriors in the Witch of Thorn’s army, and also the source of countless rumors. Lilia let out a sigh- it was always the young kids trying to tease him. Did they really think he’d just go and admit he was breaking rules and romancing a fellow warrior just because some rumors said so? Not only was it not allowed, they shouldn’t be concentrating on silly relationship rumors. There was a war going on.

“Now, now, you know very well that’s not allowed, young man.” Lilia gently tapped the boy’s helmet, shaking his head. “If you keep worrying over every rumour you hear in the barracks, you’re not going to be able to keep your head on your body out in the field.”

“But yesterday I saw you two talking, and you almost put your hand on their hip-”

“You’re polishing everyone’s armour today.” Lilia quickly cut off the young warrior, assigning him a task as a punishment. The young fae groaned, knowing full well that if he kept pushing he’d get assigned even more work, as the rest of the fae laughed. The door to the room opened, making Lilia look up; speak of the devil, there they were. Out of armor, they still looked fearsome, their sharp eyes scanning the room.

“You all, what are you doing here?” they asked, tilting their head. “You were supposed to go check our weapons and make sure nothing is damaged from transportation. None of you have done that, have you?”

The warriors quickly scrambled out of the room, not wanting to get assigned any punishment. Lilia chuckled; he liked this squad, sure, but he’d never quite seen so many airheaded fighters. Oh, they had proved themselves on the battlefield before, surely- but in regular tasks, they certainly weren’t the best. His fellow warrior chuckled from the door, then looked straight at Lilia.

“You weren’t distracting the young ones, were you?” they said. There were many things that made Lilia be particularly more friendly to them than to others; shared interests, experience, but perhaps something more was the fact they were one of the few fae warriors nearly as old as him. They shared the wisdom and experience that came with years and years and years of living, something not many could say they shared with Lilia. “I think the enemy will be here in about three days.”

“Three days? Oh my, that’s quicker than expected.” said Lilia, humming. He wasn’t worried- really, if it was just him and them, he knew it’d be enough to hold back the enemy’s whole platoon if necessary.

“Mhm, our informants sent the intel just now.” they replied, taking a seat next to Lilia. “The way things are going, this war might be over soon.”

“Wouldn’t that just be lovely?” said Lilia. ‘Soon’ probably meant a couple of years, of course; and the consequences of the war itself would permeate for longer, but a handful of years really wasn’t much to him or them. He didn’t love wartime, sure, but there was some melancholy in thinking of it ending: after all, the warriors would be once again spread through the kingdom once they weren’t needed in battle. He’d be stationed somewhere, with new people, and... Well, he shouldn’t dwell over it. It’d be good for everyone.

“Well, it’s not like that means much.” the other warrior stretched, and Lilia couldn’t help but stare. They weren’t in armor, not when just hanging out at the base, but they still had an air of strength to them. The glow of the fireplace in the room cast an amber glow on their skin and hair, their sharp fae ears sticking out of their slightly messy hair. If he weren’t also so ancient, he’d have a hard time believing they’d lived for so long: in moments like these, they felt so young, so beautiful. “After this war ends, who knows how much time we’ll have until the next one? Peace just never seems to stick around.”

“Tragically, you’re right.” sighed Lilia. “It seems like conflict just increases every passing decade, doesn’t it? I still remember when these wars were small enough they’d only send one of us to deal with trouble.” said Lilia with a sigh. “Now every kingdom has an army and a motive to attack, it seems.”

“I know it’s impossible, but... Can you imagine if peace really did stick around?” they didn’t say anything else, but Lilia understood what they meant as their hand softly rested upon his. Extended peace- time for them. Away from the army, away from their duties as fae warriors, away from rules that forbade romance. Neither of them ever discussed the topic, always skirting around it, but it was clear they were both waiting. “Hm, as if. There’s always going to be conflict, isn’t there?”

“It sure seems so.” replied Lilia, softly gazing at their face. “It’d be a miracle if the world could ever truly be at peace for just once.”

-------

But then there was peace.

The war ended messily, with more losses to each side than either kingdom had expected. Nothing was truly won, other than some territory and the usual honour of winning battles- the usual spoils of war, mostly worthless to the warriors themselves. Of course, Lilia couldn’t be upset: he knew exactly what being a warrior entailed, and he’d sworn to serve the Witch of Thorns with his life. Perhaps that was why he was appointed to take care of Her grandchild, once he was born- it was a shock, to be suddenly playing the role of a caretaker when he’d spent so long as a fighter, but he was proud to say he’d adapted to it quickly. He heard [name] had been sent to continue working as a warrior under the Queen’s name, guarding the newly captured territory, but he was in no place to inquire. He had a new job, after all- and he knew very well fae warriors weren’t allowed romance.

Memories of the war quickly became something he kept merely in the back of his mind, vague images that would sometimes show up in dreams but never quite bother him. After all, taking care of Malleus was simply much more important. It wasn’t just out of a sense of duty, at least not anymore; he’d grown to genuinely care for the child. He’d never have imagined himself as a father, and yet, as time went on, he played perfectly into the role- going as far as to raise a human child as his own, once Malleus was grown. And then there he was: attending school once again, as if he was a teenager, along with Malleus and Silver- from a warrior, to a father, to a student.

“Lilia, the messenger from home will be arriving today. They should bring the herb with them.” Malleus distracted Lilia from his videogame, causing his character to fall and the game to display the ‘you have died’ screen. The elder fae didn’t seem fazed, instead just nodding.

“Great, that’s wonderful! I’ll be sure to make the paste as soon as they hand the herb over.” said Lilia, putting down his console and walking up to Malleus. The shorter fae patted the prince’s head, making the prince turn his head to the side to hide his embarrassment. “Now, now, there’s no need to get embarrassed, I used to do this all the time when you were a wee little baby!”

Neither Lilia or Malleus were quite sure why, but lately, Malleus’ horns had started to ache. It wasn’t an illness or a curse, but rather something Malleus was familiar with: it was the same dull ache he’d felt in his childhood as his horns grew. They’d long since stopped their growth, but from time to time, the ache would return for seemingly no reason, and the only way to get it to stop was a paste made from an herb native to the Valley of Thorns. Lilia had written to the palace a while ago requesting some of the herbs to be sent over, and it seemed they’d sent a messenger today.

When he was notified to go meet the messenger in the hall of mirrors, Lilia insisted Malleus tag along. It wasn’t often he could get Malleus to interact with others in a casual setting, with most people being so scared of him, but surely, staff from the palace would at least properly greet and hold a conversation with the prince, right? Perhaps it was still his fatherly instincts telling him to help his child grow out of his shell, but Lilia ended up dragging Malleus along to the hall of mirrors.

“Good evening, we’re here for the package-” Lilia froze once he saw who stood by the mirror.

The last time he’d seen them, they’d been in full armor, holding their weapon, covered in the enemy’s blood. That’d been the last battle in the war- so long ago, yet he could remember it perfectly- the last time he’d seen them. He’d been sure that would be the last time he saw them, or that it’d take for another war to brew for him to be reunited with them under the strict rules of the army. And yet there they were, dressed in traditional Valley of Thorns clothes, holding a parcel under their arm, looking as young and beautiful as ever.

“... Lilia?!” they seemed surprised to see him there. Sure, they had probably heard the prince was attending NRC and accompanied by some guards and a caretaker, but they’d probably expected some old soot from the palace, not Lilia, not an ex-warrior. They almost dropped the package, quickly regaining their balance.

“This is-” even Lilia was at a loss for words. Time truly hadn’t done much to damper his feelings; even after centuries of not seeing them, he could feel his heart speed up, much like it had back then when he sat next to them, basking in their presence. They looked at him, then at Malleus, then back at him, and it seemed they quickly realized they were in presence of the prince, because they suddenly kneeled.

“My lord, here is the package of herbs you requested.” they said, addressing Malleus. Despite not being very social, Malleus had enough experience dealing with formalities to not be flustered over this- however, he looked quite confused at Lilia’s reaction. He took the package, then turned to his caretaker. After a few seconds, he set his eyes on the messenger.

“Thank you.” he said, quickly adding, “Are you familiar with Lilia?”

“We fought in the war together.” they replied quickly, but it looked as if though they were picking their words carefully. It made sense- it was weird to explain their relationship with Lilia. It had absolutely been more than just fellow soldiers, something past a regular friendship, and yet it hadn’t quite been a romance, neither daring break the rules and take the first step. There wasn’t a comfortable way to explain such a thing, no way to say we were in love but neither of us dared do anything about it because we weren’t allowed to.

“Oh, seeing you brings back memories I thought I’d forgotten.” Lilia chuckled, although he seemed to be acting off. Nervous, almost? Luckily, the subtle changes in his attitude went right over Malleus’ head, and he just nodded. “Malleus, would you mind returning to the dorm with the herbs? The fresher they are when we begin the better- ask Silver to boil some water so I can start preparing them soon.”

“Are you staying behind, then?” replied Malleus, and Lilia chuckled, then nodded.

“Oh, you must understand it’s not often I get to chat with an old friend like this.” said Lilia. Malleus didn’t seem like he quite understood, but nodded nonetheless, and bid goodbye to the two ancient fae before disappearing, leaving only small wisps of green fire that slowly faded away in the air.

“... The prince is as powerful as they say, isn’t he?” they said, staring at the fading green lights.

“He certainly is. Oh, but he’s also a sweetheart, don’t believe those who say he’s coldhearted or meanspirited.” said Lilia with a smile. “He’s a little cold right now, but that’s just how teenagers are, you know.”

“... You’ve certainly been busy since last time I saw you. I knew they’d appointed someone to take care of the Queen’s grandson, but I never would have imagined it’d be you.” they said, looking off to the side. “I’ve been working around the palace- you know, I really can’t believe I was wrong, but it seems peace is here to stay for a long time. Not much use for a warrior nowadays.”

There were a few moments of silence as both fae stared at each other. It’d been so long- by now, anyone else would have moved on, gotten to someone else, built new relationships. And yet neither of them had to say it for the other one to know; neither had truly moved on. They weren’t warriors anymore: right now, they were just two adults, two people in love, despite never having said it. And before he could really think about it, Lilia’s arms were around them, his mouth pressed into theirs.

Oh, intimacy. How long had it been since he’d been this close to someone? He’d had his share of throwaway flings in the years after the war, but his full attention had been on raising Malleus. Besides, nothing could quite compare to this: he’d been imagining how it’d feel to hold them close, to have his lips on them, to kiss them deeply, ever since the war. How had he gone so long without this? Truly, he couldn’t understand how he’d had enough self-restraint to never act upon his feelings back then, how both him and them had been obedient enough to not act on their love just because the rules said so.

“... I missed you.” they murmured once they separated their lips from his. They were staring right into his eyes, their face slightly red and eyes full of love. “Back then, in the war- every time I was alone with you, I... I thought about how badly I wanted to be with you. I thought about how much I loved you, and god, it hurt, it really hurt to have to keep it all locked inside.”

“You’re taking my words right out of my mouth, my love.” said Lilia, pressing his forehead against theirs. His arms wrapped around them, he could feel their heartbeat in their chest- their heart was going fast, but once again, so was his. “I can’t believe I waited so long to do this.”

Wordlessly, they kissed him again. Lilia vaguely thought it’d be rather embarrassing if Crowley were to walk in to lock the hall of mirrors now, but he couldn’t be bothered; he’d been waiting centuries for this moment. It wasn’t often Lilia felt young (truly, he was ancient), but right in that moment, he felt like he was being kissed for the first time. Two fae ancient enough to be recorded in history textbooks holding each other, letting the emotions they’d held onto for hundreds of years finally blossom- it was an odd image, but a charming one.

“I love you.” he murmured, burying his head into their neck. “You don’t know how happy I am I finally get to tell you that.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge #blood ment #Anonymous

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Brave - CHAN

I honestly still can’t believe I’ve finished this? There was a time I didn’t think I’d get to writing this fully until 2021 lmao?? And now it’s the longest fic in the whispers of nature series I need to go lie down

Dedicated to @wingkkun because screaming to Kai was like 95% of the reason I wrote this so fast <3 I also appreciate your fanart SO MUCH you are the entire reason tbz has such a presence in this fic!!

(reposted for... the second time without gifs AND links if it doesn’t work I'll cry)

Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, nature spirit!au

Triggers: mild descriptions of violence (nothing graphic)

Word Count: 12.9k

Through tears, heartbreak, and a bit of love, Chan teaches you how to be brave once again.

SKZ Masterlist | Whispers of Nature

Red is simultaneously a color of love and a color of death. It is the color of passion, the color of a bride’s dress and the roses she carries down the aisle, but also the color of blood seeping slowly out of an open wound.

Right now, watching the wedding, surrounded by pale red flowers and silks and draperies, you feel as though you’re sitting at a funeral.

Your dress isn’t red, of course. No matter how much you wish you could leave the elegant hall and run away forever, you wouldn’t disrespect the bride in such a fashion. Not only is she the crown princess of your kingdom, she is also kind, a gentle, intelligent, bright woman who will be a brilliant queen when she is crowned tomorrow.

No wonder she is the love of your best friend’s life.

Something in you itches to just start screaming, to draw your sword and ruin the festivities. But you have no sword, only a sparkling ivory gown chosen by the kind princess herself. Today, as Jacob said, you are here as a friend. Not as a knight, not as a guard, not as a protector. A friend.

Somehow, that word feels so much worse than a cold “protector” would.

The dress is shimmering white, pale and beautiful, dotted with small crystals that shimmer like clouds and stars. It should make you feel lighter than air, light with happiness for your best friend and the woman he is marrying.

But the soft fabric feels cloying on your skin, heavy and strange and choking. It’s not that you can’t wear a dress – no, you’ve gone undercover many times at balls and galas as an unseen eye to protect Jacob, after he took his place as his father’s heir. It’s the situation.

This gown was made with good intentions. The heaviness in your heart has dragged those good intentions away, replacing them with dread, anger, guilt, and sadness.

At the altar, somewhere simultaneously very close and very far away, Jacob smiles at his bride-to-be, holding her soft hands between his rougher ones, reciting the vows that will bind them for the rest of their lives. You stifle the urge to place your hands over your ears.

Oh, spirits.

He says the word “love,” and you have to fight the visceral flinch that threatens to tear through your body.

His bride’s words are not quite as painful as his. You didn’t know her as well as you knew him (does she know his favorite color is burgundy, a red between scarlet and purple, the color of roses on the darkest night?), so her vows don’t sting as much. But there’s pain just the same – throbbing, subtle, never harsh but ever present.

The neckline of your dress feels too hot against your skin.

With sick dread, you listen to her voice taper away, see the trembling smile on her face as she stares into the face of the nobleman’s son. Jacob stares back with all the stars of the sky in his eyes.

(Did he never notice that you looked at him the same way?)

The priest takes their hands, guides them through the “I dos.” They are a radiant couple, pure red covering pale skin and silky hair.

Your heart, smothered in innocent white cloth, cries.

The priest’s next words ring through your head, rattling around your mind with a force to rival the club that gave you last year’s concussion. “You may kiss the bride,” you hear, muffled as though he is speaking through water.

The red-covered couple leans in close. One of Jacob’s hands cups her cheek almost reverently, while the other gently grasps her fingers. He looks at her like she hung the moon that illuminates the red roses of his night.

You’re a knight. You’re one of the Guard. You’re brave, courageous, able to face down any foe without hesitation, ready to fight to the death for your country and the people that you love.

As their lips touch, you close your eyes.

(You’re a coward.)

. . . . .

Your boots echo loudly on the hard marble floor. As you approach the throne, the large, wooden doors swing shut behind you with a soft thud. You sink to your knees, head bowed.

“Rise,” your queen says, her voice lilting and sweet and perfect in the shining chamber. Her king consort, your best friend (is he still your best friend? You aren’t quite sure), sits by her side.

Respectfully, you stand, careful to hide any vestiges of pain on your face. It’s been several months since the wedding, and you’ve gone back to the Crown’s Guard, assigned to protect the king and queen and train the guards for their duties.

The metal of your armor, though heavier than the ivory dress that still hangs in your closet, feels lighter on your body. It is protection, from swords and words and emotions.

“We received the request for your leave of absence,” the queen says. Her eyes convey the perfect amount of sadness and wisdom. “We would be sorry to see you go.”

Jacob looks at you beseechingly. He wants you to change your mind, to stay as his friend and protector. Your mind tells you that you should stay – after all, you know little of the other kingdoms, of the lands you have decided to travel and explore. Staying in the country you know best is the safest option, for you and for the royal family.

But your heart tells you to go, and on this matter, you will listen. You wouldn’t be able to live here long, watching Jacob and his queen rule happily together for the rest of your days. You wouldn’t be able to stomach seeing their children romp around, watching them dance together at balls, hearing the cries of the common folk singing praises of the royal couple.

“However, though it pains us to see such a trusted member of the Guard gone, it is your life, and we wish for you to live it to the fullest.” The queen smiles gently, holding out a folded letter. “This contains a copy of your signed request, as well as a letter of recommendation to any future employer you may seek.”

She’s kind. So kind. Your throat closes up as you take the letter, and you can barely choke out a “thank you, Your Majesty.”

“And do remember,” Jacob adds, “that you will always have a place in our guard, should you choose to return.”

“I thank you for your kindness, Your Majesties.” You bow low, touching your hand to your head in a gesture of utmost respect. “I, too, am sad to go. However, I do not doubt that I leave you in very capable hands.” A ghost of your usual smirk appears on your lips. “And I am sure, Your Majesty, that the King Consort has enough skill to keep the two of you safe.”

The queen, being the wonderful lovely woman she is, chuckles slightly. “If he was taught by you, I am sure he will.” She smiles. “We wish you the best, Protector of the Crown.”

. . .

Jacob catches up to you later, just as training has finished for the day. As you bid goodbye to the last recruits, he enters through the back door. You recognize his footsteps and put on a smile as you turn around.

“I could’ve been an attacker, you know,” he says, slipping into the easy banter you’ve established over a decade of friendship.

“You think I don’t recognize your footsteps by now?” The smile stays on your face more easily now, not because the pain is any less, but because you’ve had more practice.

A short silence hangs in the air. Sweat from your hair drips onto your leather tunic, while not a speck of dust lies on the rich silk that clothes your best friend. It reminds you of how far apart you are now.

“Is there really no way I can persuade you not to leave?” Jacob finally asks. His mouth is downturned in the slight pout you’ve grown to love, while his eyes hold the hope that made you fall.

Your mind screams yes. Your heart shouts no.

“Not this time, Cobi.” The nickname slips out before you can even think. “I’ve made my decision. It’s time for me to go.”

Jacob sighs. “Could you at least tell me why?”

You could. Speaking words isn’t as hard as other people think it is. It’s just that once you say them, you can never take them back.

Should you tell him?

His eyes are earnest. They’re honest. They want the brutal truth that you’ve grown accustomed to giving him over the years.

But the easiest lies are those that carry a hint of truth.

“I’ve never traveled.” The untruth falls easily from your lips. “Sure, I’ve gone to the countries where we were called to battle, and I was around when you had to go places for business, but I never got to really see anything. I want to explore, see the world before I’m too old.”

He doesn’t completely believe you. You know that for sure. You can see it in the downturned quirk of his lips, the suspicion as he blinks, but he knows better than to question it. He knows you would tell him everything if you could.

(This time, you can’t.)

“And here I was, thinking I could find you someone in court to repay you for all you’ve done for me.” Jacob smiles, completely unaware of how his words are stabbing holes into your heart. “Visit, all right? You’ll always be welcome here.”

You can almost hear your heart shattering, the pieces breaking off bit by bit as they fall to the floor. But you smile. “I’ll try,” you say, because here you won’t lie and say that you will. You won’t give your best friend, the love of your short life, a promise you may not be able to keep. “I’ll try.”

He hugs you, staining his silken shirt with the sweat of your tunic. You hesitate a moment, then fall into the embrace, taking a final comfort in the strength of his arms. It hurts, but it’s a memory. And even though you want to escape, you don’t want to forget Jacob. Ever.

“I’ll see you off when you go,” Jacob says when you break apart. “Tell me when, all right?”

Should you tell him? you wonder. Will him seeing you off do anything but hurt you more?

It won’t. But your pain means little in the face of Jacob’s, not when you’ve already hurt him so much with your desire to leave. You’ve injured him enough. “I will,” you promise.

Later that night, you wonder if you should have told him the true reason you were leaving. You wonder if you should have confessed everything, laid your heart bare and told him how much he truly means to you.

No, you eventually decide. You’re glad you didn’t. Better to not ruin his happiness with his wife or his remaining memories of you.

(Or maybe you were just too scared to tell him.)

. . .

You set out early in the morning, just as the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon. A part of you hoped that Jacob would be too tired to send you off, but you knew he could never do that. He cares for you.

Just not in the way you care for him.

He meets you at the stables, where you’re outfitting your favorite horse for the journey. In his loose tunic and trousers, it almost feels like the two of you are in your teens again, waking early to train for your positions in the Guard.

Those were the good days, you think. There wasn’t a worry in the world besides making it past the next test. Jacob’s father wasn’t dead, and he didn’t have to leave the Guard to take over his household’s duties. Meanwhile, you had no idea of your feelings. There was no heartbreak.

Better times.

Words aren’t necessary, not this morning. Jacob helps you saddle your horse and store your belongings in silence. If he notices you stiffening – just barely, mind you, you’re much better at hiding it now – when his fingers brush against yours, he doesn’t say anything.

When everything is finished, you linger for a moment more. It hits you that you’re really leaving the place and the people you’ve called home for so long with no intention of coming back.

Jacob’s eyes are sad but tinged with hope when he finally speaks. “You’ll always be welcome here, you know that, right?”

Your chest tightens. You know he’s asking, one more time, for you to stay.

Last chance to tell him, you think. Last chance to clear the air.

But you’re still a coward.

“I know,” you reply. “But I have to go, Jacob.”

He doesn’t ask you why, not this time.

You wrap him in a hug, one last hug before you set off forever. A piece of your heart shatters when he puts his arms around you, squeezing your body to his in that secure, soft hold that’s just so him. So caring, so sweet, so Jacob.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

“Safe travels, Y/N,” he says as you swing yourself onto the horse. His eyes sparkle. You know he’s holding back tears, too.

You give him one last smile, imprinting the memory of his voice saying your name in your mind. “Thank you, Jacob.”

When you ride away, you only look back once. Jacob smiles in the distance, hand raised in farewell. A small tear on his cheek barely glints in the morning sunlight.

You wave back.

. . . . .

Travel is liberating, truly – though you loved being a knight, there’s something so free about not wearing armor all the time, not having everyone recognize you as one of the Crown’s Guard. You don’t have to listen to anyone, you don’t have to watch out for constant danger. You don’t have to worry about anyone, now, but yourself.

There’s a little guilt in this pleasure, as well as some unease. It’s strange not to follow the strict routine you’ve held yourself to for over a decade, and it’s even weirder not to have someone you are charged to protect.

Well, you have to protect yourself, you guess. But that just… doesn’t come as naturally.

You eventually force yourself stop thinking about it. Thoughts like these weigh down your mind and take away from the joys of exploration, you firmly remind yourself. So you content yourself with roaming small towns and villages, meeting the people, picking up new skills with which to make a living.

(You never knew you were so bad at cooking, but at least you get better.)

The spirits treat you kindly for the first few years. The money from your work as a knight keeps you afloat as you learn to make a new living (you avoid using the queen’s letter – that would draw attention, and you don’t want any of that now), and when that runs out, you put your newfound abilities to use wherever people care to pay you for them.

It’s not a rich existence. Nothing is certain in this life, not the way it was when you lived in the palace barracks and your basic needs were always met. Here, you can rely only on yourself for food and water and shelter.

But it’s enough. Everywhere you go, you meet new people – rich and poor, rude and kind – and it only enhances your wonder at the world around you. Truly, you think, you lived in a bubble before. Now, even though you’re poorer, you can see everything your eyes glanced over as a knight.

(And if you sometimes miss Jacob’s warm smile, even if it never spoke of love as deep as yours, it doesn’t matter. You’ve made your decision. You won’t go back.)

It isn’t like you’re losing your fighting skills, either. You still have your sword, something you refuse to part with no matter how little money you have. There’s plenty of danger – bandits, thieves, rich boys who think they own the streets – and as such, plenty of opportunities for you to keep your senses sharp.

It’s after one of these fights that you meet the moon child, Changbin. He appears in the dark alley after you’ve knocked the last man out and takes concern with the bleeding wound on your upper arm.

“I’m fine,” you try to tell him as he firmly guides you away from the alley and towards a dark patch of trees. “I’m fine – hey, please let go of me.”

Hearing the urgency in your voice, he drops your arm. Your hand immediately goes to the sword at your hip. “Where are you taking me?” you snap, eyes flickering toward the trees.

He reddens. “I’m so stupid,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. “I stay in the woods,” he explains. “If you’ll let me take you there, I can help you clean your wound.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You stay in the woods?” you repeat, incredulous. “Why –”

A breeze shifts his hair away from his ear, revealing a pure white flower dangling from a slim chain, glowing in the moonlight.

A moon child.

Oh.

In all of your years of traveling, you never thought you would truly meet a spirit.

“My Lord,” you say, dropping hastily to your knees. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier.”

“Please, none of that.” The moon child tugs you back up, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m just a moon child, none of the ‘my Lord’ stuff. My name is Changbin.”

Changbin doesn’t turn out to be a bandit masquerading as a moon child, thankfully, so you allow him to clean your wound in his makeshift hut in the middle of the trees. He introduces himself fully as a wanderer. Not a traveler, he clarifies, because travelers roam the world for pleasure. He does it out of necessity.

(The look of desolation in his eyes convinces you not to ask.)

He becomes your companion for months, nearly a year, walking with you from city to city until he decides to part ways in a small village near a forest. By that time, you’re sad to see him go – he’s been a wonderful friend – but like Jacob never asked the reason for your departure, you honor Changbin’s desire for silence.

He does leave you with one piece of advice, “traveler’s wisdom,” he calls it (you punch him in the arm when he says that in this high, haughty voice). “Villagers will tell you that these woods are dangerous,” he says once the two of you have calmed down. “They’ll say it’s haunted by spirits. And there is danger, it’s true, but there is also safety.”

You listen carefully.

“In the heart of the woods, there is a shrine. If ever you find yourself lost or in trouble, go into the forest at the break of dawn and find the shrine. The priestesses will take you in. If you can’t find the shrine by dark, though, leave as fast as you can.” The seriousness in Changbin’s eyes tells you he isn’t joking this time. “The forest isn’t nearly as dangerous during the day as it is during the night.”

So you travel for another year, keeping Changbin’s words in the back of your mind. As you continue, though, money begins to get scarce. These villagers are more suspicious than others you’ve met and aren’t as quick to hire a newcomer, especially one so poor but who bears such a sword (you’ll never sell it, not ever). Their suspicion is understandable, but it doesn’t make anything better for you.

You’re lost, now. You sold your horse and fine clothes a long time ago, leaving you with nothing from your old life but your memories and your sword. You’ve become a wanderer, not a traveler – forced to roam for no reason other than you must.

Several times, you mull over returning to the Guard. Jacob said he would welcome you back, and the thought of a full stomach and a place to sleep almost make up your mind on the worst nights.

But even though you want to see Jacob again, want to remember his warmth and kindness, a green snake twists its way around your heart, sliding up your throat every time you think of going back to him. He’ll never accept you, not truly, the snake hisses. He’ll never love you the way you love him.

And try as you might, you can’t stomach the thought of facing him again, not when you made the choice to leave.

So you remain a coward, a blind, stupid, stubborn coward. Instead of going to a place you know, a place where you would find care and acceptance, you throw your lot into Changbin’s advice.

You decide to find the shrine.

. . .

You’re on your last coins when you finally make it back to the village where you and Changbin parted ways. As dawn breaks, you take a breath, summoning your last strength, and head between the trees.

It’s eerie, a bit, but so beautiful. As the sun rises, the sky turns a beautiful shade of blue that melds with the trees’ greenery. It almost distracts you from the fact that you legitimately have zero idea where you’re going – Changbin only told you the shrine was at the heart of the forest, nothing else. You’ve been marking your path with stones you picked up along the way, but something tells you that won’t help much if you’re being chased by… an evil spirit. Or something.

(It’s embarrassing and slightly scary to say it, but you don’t think you have the strength anymore to outrun such a spirit, much less fight one.)

Luck seems to finally be on your side, though, because after exhaustedly pushing through a crowd of bushes, you come face to face with a beautiful shrine, surrounded by wild gardens and small stone buildings.

Several young men and women – a few barely older than children – look up at the rustling of leaves. For a few moments, they stare at your undoubtedly grimy, gross face. You only stare back.

It feels like an eternity has passed before one of the young women stands and walks up, a gentle smile on her face. “Hello, traveler.”

“Hello,” you manage, voice croaking with disuse. You clear your throat, face hot. “I’m sorry for intruding. I just… I met… I don’t know if you know him, but I met a moon – a man named Changbin –”

“You met Changbin?” Her eyes take on a new intensity and a sliver of joy.

“Um, yes.” You try to smile. “He told me if I was lost and needed a place to stay, I could try to find the shrine.” Looking down at your dirty hands, you bite your lip in shame. “I’m sorry. I can leave if you want, I’ve just… I don’t have a place to stay. I can cook, clean, anything you need help with. And, um…” You hold out the remaining coins in your pocket. “I have these?”

A rough hand closes your fingers over the money. “Keep your coins, traveler.” The woman smiles widely. “Changbin would only tell a true friend about the shrine, and a friend of Changbin’s is always a friend of ours.”

As she leads you into the shrine, the only thing you feel is guilty, overwhelming, crushing relief. Relief that you won’t have to face Jacob once more. Relief that you won’t have to face your heart once more.

The mere thought of your cowardice makes you cringe.

. . .

The shrine, you learn, is a very busy place. You wake up pretty early the next day, unused to the fact that you have an actual futon now and not just the ground, but already the other two girls in the room are getting dressed. Feeling distinctly out of place, you start to follow suit.

“Oh, you don’t need to get up just yet!” One of them smiles. “You’re a guest, traveler. Take some time to rest.”

“No, it’s all right.” You smile back, hoping it isn’t as awkward as it feels. “I’ve never been able to sleep too late, and I don’t feel right intruding on your hospitality without giving something back in return. Is there anything I can help with?”

So you find yourself in the garden after breakfast, sweating under the sun with a boy around your age named Kevin. He’s cheerful. Very fun company. Somehow, he makes the monotonous task of pulling weeds enjoyable, even takes your mind off of how out of place you feel in this quaint shrine.

Walking back into the shrine after spending the day in the garden, you wave off Kevin’s offer to bring you dinner, telling him you’re going to take a shower instead. But because you’re an idiot, you forget the fact that you have no idea where the showers are.

Kevin’s already walking away, and you honestly feel too embarrassed to call after him and ask. So, ignoring the curious stares you’re garnering from the other girls and boys, you start walking in an arbitrary direction.

It’s a mistake. As the sun sets, you feel like you’ve wandered the grounds at least four times, but you can’t even find a semblance of a shower room in the whole shrine. You’re about to give up when the priestess who welcomed you walks out of a nearby building, followed by a young man with curly blond hair.

You really don’t mean to catch his eye. In fact, you’re drawing away, about to walk in the other direction, when he looks up and fixes your gaze with his. His eyes narrow.

You suddenly feel very uncomfortable.

The priestess – what was her name? Priestess Yang? You think that’s it – turns around and sees you there, immediately breaking into a gentle smile. “Oh, hello, Y/N!”

Sheepishly, you wave. “Hello, Priestess.”

“You welcomed the sword-bearer?” the man interrupts.

What?

You’re not even carrying your sword. You left it back in the room, thinking it might be viewed as a threat if you brought it around. And you’ve never seen this man in your life. So how does he know that about you?

The priestess gives him a scolding look. “Chan, the shrine welcomes those who are lost.”

“But a sword-bearer?” he – Chan – argues. “You do remember what kinds of damage they cause?”

Indignation rises in your chest. He doesn’t even know you, and he’s already making assumptions? “Hey –”

“Changbin told her to find us if she was lost,” Priestess Yang cuts in smoothly. “If Changbin can trust this sword-bearer, I’m sure you can find it in yourself to do so too, Chan.”

Chan just looks at you with undisguised suspicion in his eyes. You glare back. How dare he assume such things about your character?

“Were you looking for someone, Y/N?” Priestess Yang asks, pulling you out of your annoyance.

“Well, no.” The sheepish smile finds its way back to your face. “I was, um, looking for the showers.”

“Oh, they’re just over there! I’ll show you the way.” She pats Chan’s shoulder. “I’ll see you, Chan.”

Chan smiles briefly, then disappears into the air, leaving behind the faintest scent of grass and springtime.

The priestess laughs at the shocked look on your face. “Chan is our forest guardian,” she explains, leading you onto a dirt path. “He helps keep us safe.”

Uneasiness crawls up your spine. “Is that how he knew I had a sword?”

“Yes.” She nods. “He sees everything, knows of all those who travel the forest. It’s part of his Sight.”

A ripple of annoyance passes through your mind.

All that sight, and he couldn’t help me once? you grumble internally. Thanks a lot, guardian.

Suffice to say, even though Priestess Yang encourages you to have an open mind, your opinion of Chan isn’t the highest.

. . .

The discomfort of being the “new traveler” at the shrine stays for a week or so. By then, most of the residents are more or less used to your presence (you just ignore Chan whenever he gives you one of his suspicious looks), and you’ve carved out a small niche for yourself, taking care of the shrine children.

There are more than you expected, surprisingly. You would’ve thought the shrine was primarily made up of older teens, if anything, who could find their way here. When you mention this to Kevin, he gets a faraway look in his eye. “The shrine opens its arms to the lost,” he says in reply. “It makes itself easier to find for children, because they often can’t journey here themselves.”

“Abusive families?”

Kevin bites his lip. “Yes.”

This knowledge only makes you want to protect them more.

As much as you enjoy talking with Kevin in the garden, it’s so much easier to work with the shrine children, you find. They’re sweet and kind, if rambunctious, and you make it your duty to keep them occupied and safe while the older kids and priestesses work.

“Y/N, Y/N!” One of the older children, Yuna, comes running up one afternoon. “Priestess Jeon said you could take us into the forest for a walk!”

“Who else?” you ask. “Not just you, right?”

“Chaeryeong, Sunwoo, and Eric want to come too.” She looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you weigh the merits and dangers of a walk. It’s going to get dark in a few hours, so you can’t stay out long, but if one of the head priestesses agreed, it couldn’t be too bad of an idea. The kids aren’t too young, either. They’ll listen if something goes wrong.

“If you get one of the messenger boys to come, we can go,” you eventually decide. If something happens, at least you’ll be able to send someone off to get help quickly. Just in case, though, you strap your sword to your side.

Juyeon meets you with the four kids at the shrine’s entrance. Your heart sinks a little – you hoped Yuna would find Kevin – but Juyeon is pleasant enough. He returns the smile you flash at him, anyway.

The walk is uneventful, for the most part. Eric and Yuna pepper you with questions about your work as a knight while Sunwoo and Chaeryeong listen in rapture. Really, it hurts a little to talk about your life in years past, but for the kids, you’ll do it. The smiles on their faces are worth it.

When you start walking back to the shrine, though, the air changes. It doesn’t ripple right – the wind feels strange, somehow evil. Juyeon clearly feels it too, from the way his eyes are darting around the trees. With an unspoken agreement, you begin herding the kids along faster.

There’s barely a change in the wind when the thing – whatever it is – swoops down. Only the blur of a wing in the side of your vision alerts you and you shout, pushing Eric out of the owl’s range and drawing your sword.

“What the fuck is that?” you snap, brandishing your blade.

Juyeon’s face is white as he gathers the children. “Screech owl!”

“Screech owl?”

Then the thing – screech owl, you guess – dives down again, and there’s no time to talk.

“Juyeon!” you yell. “Get them out of here!”

He doesn’t argue, just herds the children together and races away. Smart boy.

You’ve never fought an opponent in the air before. It isn’t fun. The owl is fast, too fast, almost like a damn mosquito racing through the air as you try to squash it, only a million times bigger and fiercer.

Your sword slashes through the air as you duck and twist and hide behind trees, feathers fluttering to the grass all around you. Awful shrieks ring through the air and you honestly can’t tell if it’s you or the bird – all of your senses are jumbled up.

Adrenaline courses through your veins even as the sun sets further, washing the forest in pale evening light. The bird seems to take delight in the onset of night – it swoops faster, hoots louder, and is in general just a much bigger asshole than before (if that was possible).

“ARGH!” A claw slices the top of your shoulder. If I had my armor…

But you don’t, so you duck behind another tree. Think, Y/N, think, you tell yourself as you heave deep breaths. Wait, no, don’t think. Thinking gets you killed.

Just listen.

The air is still. You don’t move a muscle.

Then –

The faintest brush of wind on your left.

Your sword cuts through meat and bone, and the owl falls, dead, at your feet.

For a moment, you just stand there, gasping, staring at the blood dripping off your blade and pooling from the owl’s body.

Gross.

“Thank you.”

For not the first time that afternoon, you let out a deathly screech and leap away. Clapping a hand over your heart, you glare at the newcomer.

“… Chan?”

“That’s my name.” The forest guardian raises an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “Thank you for killing the owl.”

You just look at him, eyebrows fully wrinkled in annoyance and confusion. “If you wanted the owl dead, why didn’t you kill it yourself? You’re the forest guardian, surely you have the power to do that much.”

“I can’t kill things just because I want to,” Chan replies. It should sound antagonistic, you think, but the look in his eyes is softer than he’s ever looked at you. Appreciative, maybe? “It would upset the forest’s balance if its guardian killed one of those who live in its domain. I can only defend the forest against those that mean it deadly harm, not those that are merely dangerous.”

Wiping your sword on the edge of your tunic, you mull that over. “But if the screech owl was too dangerous, wouldn’t that upset the balance of the forest in the end anyway?”

“We weren’t at that point yet.” Chan raises a shoulder in a half shrug. “But you killed it, so we’ll never know if that would’ve happened.”

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.”

He laughs. It’s a surprisingly cheerful sound – you thought it might sound like, you don’t know, someone croaking (look, you never had the greatest opinion of Chan until this point, and that’s still in the air). “I don’t think it is,” he finally says. “And I’m sorry. I was wrong about you being like all of the other sword-bearers who came to this forest. You clearly care for the shrine children.”

An apology. That’s something. Grudgingly, you force yourself to see Chan in a better light. “Apology accepted.”

For a few seconds, you just stand there, feeling the air turn more awkward by the second. “Um –”

“Do you need the way back?” Chan interrupts, a knowing glint in his eye.

By all the spirits, why did you have to meet him when you were lost at the shrine? Now he thinks you’re bad with directions, which you swear you’re really not, you just hadn’t been at the shrine long enough to figure it out.

Embarrassment creeps up your skin as Chan’s smirk grows. “… Yes.”

(And, okay, the forest guardian is a little infuriating and you find yourself wanting to hit him several times on the way back. But really, he isn’t that bad. Though you’d rather die than let him know you think that of him.)

. . .

Chan comes back the next day. You don’t expect him there, especially because he never visits the shrine more than one day in a row, but he surprises you with a smile and the offer of a walk.

“This isn’t your plan for killing a sword-bearer without anyone finding out, is it?” you ask, raising a nonplussed eyebrow as you follow the guardian out of the shrine. You’re not sure why, but it’s so easy to fall into banter with Chan the way you used to joke around with the other knights in the Guard.

Chan snorts. “As a centuries-old guardian of the forest, wouldn’t you think I’d have a little more wisdom than to kill you after several people at the shrine witnessed you leaving with me?”

You very visibly keep a hand on your sword just in case.

“So why did you invite me on a walk?” you ask after several moments. Chan’s bare feet are silent against the grass, but your boots make slightly louder thumps as you step over stones and fallen branches. “I know it wasn’t because of my scintillating personality.”

He stops walking. “I’ve heard you used to be a knight,” he says bluntly. “I wanted to know what kind of sword-bearer you were to leave such a prestigious position and even befriend Changbin, of all people.”

“What’s wrong with befriending Changbin?” you ask, desperately dodging the first part of Chan’s implied questions. “You make it sound like he hates… sword-bearers. He literally dragged me away after I beat up a bunch of men in an alley with my sword so he could clean the one wound I got on my shoulder.”

“Ah. That explains it.” Chan nods. “He saw you do good things with your blade.”

“… Yes?”

“Sword-bearers killed the girl he loved,” Chan explains. “Well, archers, really, but swords were involved.”

You swallow. That explains his wandering tendencies. “Oh. Who sent them?”

“The king of Adment.”

The title brings a scowl to your face. “Oh, him.” You spit. “That would explain it.”

Chan looks at you curiously. “You hold a grudge towards him as well?”

“He was never the friendliest to my kingdom,” is your brief reply before diverting the topic again. “So, is that also the reason you hate sword-bearers in your forest?”

“Whenever sword-bearers trespass, they almost always bring destruction.” Chan’s face turns hard. “I’ve learned not to take chances.”

The ages-old anger in his eyes speaks of a wisdom far older than the youthful form Chan takes. You narrow your eyes. “How old are you, exactly? You said centuries, but how many?”

He smirks, though there’s something weary in his gaze. “I’ve been alive for over a millennium.”

“What?”

“I can tell you more about that another day,” he says, teasing. You want to complain that he can’t leave you on a cliffhanger like that, but the sun is beginning to set, and you have things to do at the shrine. “Do you need an escort?”

You resist the urge to punch him, forest guardian or no. “I’m not that bad with directions,” you grouse. “You just caught me on a bad day. I can find my way back.”

He walks you back to the shrine anyway. And day by day, after every conversation you have, he walks you back as well.

Kevin, when you meet him in the garden, remarks that you seem more cheerful after a few weeks. “You look like you’re anticipating something exciting,” he clarifies when you only dignify him with a confused glance. His lips curl into a smirk. “Something about Chan?”

Kevin probably expects you to hit him or roll your eyes, maybe say something snappy in response. Instead, your face only drops as the meaning of his words hits you.

Do you feel something for Chan?

Well, you love to hear about his life. There are some really exciting stories he’s had after living so long. He’s also pleasant to hang around, and you enjoy talking to him.

It’s just curiosity, nothing romantic, you tell yourself. There’s no attraction. Just a slight friendship, maybe. Nothing more.

Nothing like what you felt for Jacob.

“Y/N – hey, Y/N!”

You blink to see Kevin staring at you in concern. “Are you all right? You zoned out for a minute.”

No, definitely nothing like Jacob. You try to smile at Kevin, pushing thoughts of blond hair and kind eyes out of your mind. That’s stupid – you would never let yourself be swayed so badly again. “I’m fine,” you say, hoping you’re telling the truth. “Let’s go get dinner, yeah?”

. . .

As the weeks pass, you begin to wonder just how much was truthful in what Kevin said.

Walks with Chan have become a regular occurrence, now. When he shows up at the shrine entrance every other afternoon, someone immediately calls for you.

And the worst thing is, you feel excited when you hear your name being called, when you’re with the children or scrubbing dishes or working in the garden. Everyone around gives you a knowing glance and maybe a teasing smile as you rush to see the forest guardian.

One part of you wants it. You want to be able to freely enjoy these walks, feeling the soft earth beneath your boots as you listen to Chan speak. The forest itself is interesting – he shows you the overgrown faerie ring, the water nymph’s pond and the accompanying willow tree – but you think his stories are even more intriguing. You like hearing Chan’s voice. You think you’d like to keep hearing it.

The other part of you doesn’t want this, though, doesn’t want the budding warmth that you feel with the forest guardian, even as the months begin to grow colder. It’s not that it doesn’t feel nice – in fact, this is precisely because it does feel nice. Too nice. You’re starting to feel a stirring in your heart that reminds you of how you felt for Jacob. Though it’s small, very small, it’s there – you can recognize it from the years of heartache you spent watching Jacob fall in love with someone else.

You don’t want that again with Chan.

It shames you to want to run away again, to run away from a place that has provided you with so much comfort in the months past. You love the children, truly, and the friends you’ve made are wonderful. You’ve even started giving Juyeon lessons with your sword. But what other course of action is there? There’s no reason a forest guardian with so many centuries of wisdom would fall for a young, naïve human like you. Here, a love story is even more impossible than one with Jacob.

The decision curdles in your stomach, fills your throat with bitter, hot shame, but it’s necessary, you tell yourself. Better to cut everything off right now, before your emotions grow out of control.

You’re not that important to the shrine, really. You’ve only been there a few months. They’ll survive without you.

You just can’t go through the pain you felt with Jacob ever again.

. . .

You debate avoiding Chan. If he were human, you might actually have chosen that path. But just like you couldn’t avoid Jacob when you fell in love – you were too close, he definitely would’ve noticed – you can’t avoid Chan. He’s the forest’s guardian – he’ll know you’re purposely trying not to be found.

So you decide to cut things off on one of your walks. It feels so simple in your mind – get away from the shrine, then tell him you’re leaving. He won’t care, you tell yourself. It won’t matter to him. And as much as the thought hurts, it’s the better option.

It should be easy, really. Chan gives you the perfect opening – “Why do you look so sad today?” he asks, stopping you by Hyunjin’s pond. The nymph himself doesn’t appear, which you’re very thankful for.

Well, no time like the present. You steel yourself. “I’m going to leave the shrine.”

Chan’s face switches expressions several times within seconds. You watch, feeling a sick sense of dread and relief pooling in your stomach. It’s out there. You’ve said it.

But spirits, why does he look so upset? So angry?

Like you mean something to him?

“Why?” he finally asks.

“Well,” you stammer, his unprecedented reaction sending all of the rehearsed words flying out of your mind, “I – I’ve overstayed my welcome, haven’t I? I’ve been here for months already, and I’ve used the shrine’s hospitality long enough.” His incredulous expression sparks indignation in your chest. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you realize how much you do for the shrine?” he snaps. His footsteps, usually so silent, pound on the earth as he steps up to you. “You think you’ve overstayed your welcome – do you know how much I – how much the shrine needs you now?”

How much I?

How much I need you?

How much Chan needs me?

Slip of the tongue. You shake your head, trying your best to ignore it. “All I do is help with the children, work with Kevin in the garden! Chan, I’m easily replaceable – I’m just a poor traveler who was fortunate enough to find the shrine! I’m lucky that you’ve all been so welcoming, but really, it’s time for me to move on.”

“And what about the children? Your friends?” He crosses his arms. “What about me?”

“They’ll live!” you snap. “And what do you mean, what about you?”

Chan growls under his breath. “Are you really trying to say that I mean nothing to you?”

His words hit you like a punch in the gut, like that time Jacob accidentally rammed you in the stomach with the pommel of a sword.

So… not a slip of the tongue.

“Why does it matter that you mean something to me when I don’t mean anything to you?” you finally say.

��And here I thought you were smart,” Chan snaps.

Anger flares in your chest. “I’m serious, Chan! Why would I ever think I meant something to you?” You gesture wildly at the expanse of trees surrounding you. “You’re a millennia-old guardian of a forest of magic. I’m a human who ended up here out of luck. Why, even if I ever felt anything for you, would you feel anything for me? What have I done to merit your attention?”

Chan’s eyes soften slightly. “So many things.”

Taken aback, you flail for words. “Elaborate.”

“You’re a sword-bearer. A kind sword-bearer. A sword-bearer Changbin trusts, enough to divulge his name and travel with for almost a year. A sword-bearer he believed was pure enough of heart to find the shrine – and don’t stop me there, if he hadn’t thought you would be able to find it, he wouldn’t have told you of its existence.” Chan stares at you with that same soft look, that soft look that pierces your heart and makes you feel guilty, so guilty, because you’re not as good, not as kind, not as pure as he thinks you are. “You carved your place in the shrine the first day you spent there. Without anyone asking, you took care of the children and helped Kevin in the garden. You did everything you could to give the children a bit of the love they never might’ve experienced otherwise and protected them from a threat you knew nothing of, something that could have torn you to pieces if you weren’t as trained as you were. You –”

“Stop.”

Chan looks at you, confused. “What –”

“I’m not – I’m not even near the brave person you’re describing,” you snap, tears starting to well in your eyes. “Stop talking about me like I’m some – some spirits-damned martyr, or something –”

“But –”

“And even if I was this, this noble and amazing person you think I am,” you interrupt, tears fighting to slip past your eyes, “how many other men and women at the shrine are the same? Kind, gentle, whatever you want to use to describe me? I’m not special, Chan. I’ve never been.”

Jacob didn’t think you were, at least.

“Y/N, why – just – did you not hear anything I just said about you?” Chan tries to take your hand, but you shy away, pretending the hurt in his eyes doesn’t send knives into your chest. “You earned the trust of a moon child haunted by those who carry blades in a matter of months. Those at the shrine took years to gain his full acceptance. You proved me wrong about sword-bearers. You showed me you were fearless, brave, kind – you are special, Y/N,” he insists, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’ve shown me that, shown me so much –”

“Stop.”

Your chest is heaving, the tears have spilled out, and you’re fighting for breath. It hurts, it hurts so much that Chan thinks this much of you, but all you are is a coward running away your feelings. “You don’t know,” you gasp, “you don’t know what kind of a person I am. I’m not what you see. How can you –” you angrily brush a tear away – “how can you not see that?”

“Then tell me,” Chan says. “Tell me why you’re so different. Convince me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to convince him, you want him to always have that beautiful image of you in his mind – a brave, gentle knight dedicated to protecting those who cannot defend themselves. But he deserves the truth.

And the truth is that you are a coward.

“I left my kingdom because I was in love with my best friend,” you spit. “He married the queen, and I couldn’t do anything but watch. I left because I couldn’t stand to see them so happy together, knowing I would only be on the sidelines of their love for the rest of my life. I left because I couldn’t bring myself to tell him how I felt, couldn’t bring myself to clear the air. I left because I wanted to run away instead of facing my problems, Chan! And even when I knew Jacob would always welcome me back with open arms, even during my darkest moments, I still chose to run away! I chose to find the shrine instead of letting my feelings go and reconciling with my friend. I chose to find the shrine and run away a second time because I couldn’t stand to face him again when I was the one who chose to leave.” A choked sob escapes your lips. “And now I’m running away again, because I thought you could never care for me in the way I’m beginning to care for you. Only you apparently do, but I can’t just stay here and let you love this perfect, noble character who doesn’t exist.”

Silence fills the air. Surely the birds are chirping, the leaves rustling, but you can’t hear anything over the pathetic sounds of you trying to control your tears.

“So now you know,” you croak. “You know the truth behind the coward this knight really is.”

You can’t even meet Chan’s eyes.

“You’re right,” Chan finally says. “For a knight, you’re an awful coward.”

His words stab you in the chest.

“Courage doesn’t constitute running away.”

You can feel the blood dripping out of your heart.

“It means facing your challenges head on, doing what you must.”

You clench your teeth, resolutely looking down at your feet. It’s the truth, you tell yourself. It doesn’t matter if it hurts. It’s the truth.

Then Chan’s trousers enter your vision. You stiffen, ready to back away, but Chan’s already tilting your chin up with one gentle finger so that you’re staring into his eyes. “But you’re brave, Y/N,” he murmurs. “You’re brave when it comes to protecting others, defending the innocent from those who would bring harm.” A small smile curves his lips. “You’re just not too good at protecting yourself.”

You burst into tears. And this time, when Chan presses you into his chest, letting you inhale his woodsy smell of fresh grass and sunlight, you don’t pull away.

. . .

“You don’t have to run away from attachment,” Chan tells you on the walk back to the shrine. “You don’t have to run away from familiarity, from caring about people. We care about you, truly. The children would be heartbroken if you left. So would Kevin and Juyeon and everyone else.” He gives you a gentle smile. “I would be, too.”

Keeping his words in mind, you put away your thoughts of leaving the shrine and try to open your eyes to how much people actually enjoy your presence. Some days, when the self-loathing rises and you don’t want to do anything but run away, it’s hard.

But Chan always finds you, if not the same day, then the day after. He takes you into the woods and tells stories until your sides ache from laughter and the sparkle – or so he tells you – is back in your eyes. With his slow, careful help, you begin to see the small, but visible effects you have on the shrine.

Eric’s and Chaeryeong’s eyes light up when you walk into the room. Sunwoo and Yuna fight for your attention. Juyeon’s calm face breaks into a smile when you show up for his daily swordplay practice, and Kevin laughs with abandon when you crack jokes in the garden. They’re small things, but you realize that leaving the shrine would’ve caused a lot more damage – to you and to them – that you didn’t realize before.

So you cement your place in the shrine, throwing yourself into the daily life of the place you’ve tentatively begun to think of as something deeper than a mere shelter. Juyeon’s interest in swordplay gives you the idea to begin training some of the girls and boys in defense. The priestesses agree after a little convincing – after all, you argue, even if the shrine isn’t threatened very often, dangers like the screech owl crop up every now and then. And if anyone decides to leave the shrine in the future and make their own life, defense could be a very useful skill.

Chan embraces your idea with more warmth than you’d imagine, given his aversion to sword-bearers. When you ask him about it, he just gives you that teasing smile that infuriates and calms you. “I trust you, don’t I?” His smile turns gentler. “You’re a good, brave sword-bearer. I think you’ll be able to keep your pupils from going… astray.”

You certainly do your best. Over several years of training, you watch Juyeon, Kevin, Yeji, and Lia grow into formidable opponents. Sunwoo takes more of an interest in archery after you fashion him a crude bow and arrow, practicing with the (kind of terrible) weapons until you buy him proper set in town.

Life goes on, and it goes well. Shrine life is peaceful as new residents enter – the newest resident, Haknyeon, is adorable – and you grow into yourself as the months go by. Chan never presses his feelings, only treats you the same way he always did until you’re ready to accept his care.

“Are you sure?” he asks when you tell him, eyes sparkling with hope and love and uncertainty all at once.

Your heart blossoms with love for the forest guardian. “Yes.” You smile. “I think I love myself enough to allow you to love me too.”

His lips taste like spring, like golden sunlight filtered through verdant leaves. Pressed against his chest, you feel safe, delicate in the touch of his fingers splayed gently across your back, strong in the warmth of his arms around your waist.

Oh, Chan makes you feel loved, loved in a way that slowly erases the self-loathing you’ve carried for so long, in a way that makes you feel brave enough to remain standing with each passing day. And even though you’ve still got a long way to go, you take comfort in the knowledge that Chan, your forest guardian, will always be there for you.

. . . . .

News doesn’t come often to the small village just outside the forest, so when there’s gossip that doesn’t pertain to the whereabouts about one villager or another, it’s worth listening to. This time, it’s a kingdom at war with another.

“Which kingdoms?” you ask idly, examining an apple.

“One is Adment,” the shopkeeper replies. You snort, a sentiment he laughs with. “Which was the other, honey?” he yells to his wife in the back of the stall.

“Was it Callia?” she yells back.

You don’t laugh when the apple drops from your hand.

Trying not to visibly show your distress, you wave off the shopkeeper’s worry at your expression and hurry to finish the shopping. To your luck, when you make it back to the shrine, Chan is already there, conversing with one of the priestesses.

“Y/N!” His smile drops slightly when he takes in your expression. The priestess quietly excuses herself. “Did something happen?”

“Callia – Callia is at war with Adment.” You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. “Jacob’s kingdom. At war with the one that killed Changbin’s love.”

Chan’s face turns hard. “I see.”

“I – I feel like I need to do something.” You gaze at him, begging him to understand everything you can’t put into words. “Chan, I feel like I have to go back and help, somehow.”

Chan’s eyes are gentle but unreadable as he grasps your hand firmly in his. “You should do what you think is right,” he says quietly.

What I think is right.

What do I think is right?

Your mind races with panic, but one thought emerges, crystal clear in certainty.

“Yes,” you whisper, more to yourself than Chan. “I’ll do what is right.”

. . .

The priestesses give you their blessing to return to the kingdom you used to call home. Juyeon, Kevin, Lia, and Sunwoo volunteer to come with you as well, even though you try to dissuade them repeatedly with how dangerous it’ll be. They could die, you stress – this is war, after all. But they insist.

You put off saying goodbye to Chan until the day before you leave. He’s the one who finds you, actually – he has something to say, apparently, before you go.

It feels so strange, walking with Chan through the forest with the knowledge that you may never come back. It’s not like you’re a stranger to the evils of war – every time you rode into battle as a knight, you knew there was a high likelihood that you would die.

But it’s different, now. Jacob and your fellow Guards knew the risks of war – you were all seasoned fighters, trained in tactics and stealth and strategy. Here, you only have a very small group of fighters – reasonably good for the amount of training they’ve had, but lacking in true experience. They won’t understand the true horror of battle until they’ve experienced it themselves.

There’s something else, too. You’re leaving behind someone you love for the first time, someone who cannot come and fight by your side.

“Can I go first?” you ask, stopping by Hyunjin’s pond. You want to see the still waters one more time before you leave.

Chan nods. “Of course.”

“I…” You look down, mustering your courage. “I wanted to tell you that I love you.”

For a moment, there’s just silence. Then a sudden flush spreads across Chan’s cheeks.

It bolsters your confidence. “I know I don’t say it often,” you continue, enjoying the shyness on your guardian’s face, “but I really do. I wanted you to know that I’m not going off to help Jacob’s kingdom because I love him the way I used to, but because I still care about him as a friend.” You gaze into Chan’s clear eyes. “I love you very much, and I wanted to tell you that before I left.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I never thought you were going to war out of romantic love for Jacob,” he says quietly. “You don’t need to worry about that, ever. I trust you.”

Your heart explodes with warmth. “So what is it that you had to tell me?”

“I never told you how forest guardians are chosen, did I?” Chan asks.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Well, sit down, and I’ll tell you now.” He smiles. “It’s a long story.”

Chan tells you of his first life as an oread, a mountain spirit settled in the craggy cliffs not too far from the forest. He tells you of the last guardian before him, a teasing fae named Jaebum.

“A fae?” you interrupt. “Isn’t that… not a good idea?” As lovely as Han and his lady are – you’ve met them several times by now – you wouldn’t exactly call him a suitable guardian. You’d say the same and more for his more sinister counterparts.

“Jaebum was different,” Chan says. “He cared deeply for the forest. After the two centuries I knew him, he found someone to love, to grow old with over time. He asked me to be forest guardian after he died.”

“So the current forest guardian chooses the next when they feel their time is over?” you clarify.

Chan nods, gazing into your eyes. “Yes.”

And all of a sudden, you understand.

“Chan, you –” You have to clear away the emotion rising in your throat. “You want to pass on the guardianship for me? To whom?”

“I’ve spoken to Changbin.” Chan smiles. “He was very receptive to the idea.”

“But – Chan, for me?” The old uncertainty starts to plague your mind. “Chan, I’m just… I’m just me.”

“Exactly.” Chan takes your hands in his. “You’re you. And I want to grow old with you. Live life with you. Don’t try to argue with me – this is something I know I want.”

You can’t even speak through the tears running down your face. “Chan –”

“Come here.” He wraps you in his warm arms. “I love you, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

For how long you stay there, crying into Chan’s embrace, you don’t know. By the time you’re coherent enough to pull back, it feels like it’s been an eternity.

“So now you have to come back.” Chan smiles, though you can see a glimmer of fear, of uncertainty in his gaze. “You have to stay safe and come back for me, all right?”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin suddenly appears from the pond and you literally shriek, toppling backwards onto the grass. “You have to come back to Chan, or he’ll mope around for millennia and send the forest into ruin.” The nymph smirks, though you can see real concern hidden in his eyes.

“Like you moped for centuries over your cloud nymph?” Chan retorts, lips curved in an exasperated smile.

Hyunjin sniffs. “Details,” he says haughtily, already sinking back into his pool. He sends you a glance, though, that’s full of meaning.

You must come back. Don’t leave Chan waiting.

You make a silent promise that you won’t.

. . .

The next day, your cohort wakes up early. After yawning through a quick breakfast, you quickly gather your belongings and meet up at the front of the shrine. Several of the priestesses cluck over you like mother hens checking on their chicks, and you dutifully take their warnings and cautions with as light a smile as you can muster.

Chan shows up just as you’re about to go. The others thankfully leave you two alone for a bit (though you scowl at Kevin’s smirk and Lia’s whistle).

You don’t talk much, just stay wrapped in each other’s arms for several minutes. Eventually, though, dawn breaks. It’s time to leave.

“Be brave,” Chan whispers as you pull away.

You smile. “I’ll come back.”

With one last kiss that tastes of spring greenery, you leave the shrine. When you look back, Chan’s already disappeared.

. . .

It’s a long two years spent away from the shrine. The pace is difficult on your friends, who have only known the shrine as a home for so many years. For you, it’s a bit easier – you’ve been a traveler for a good few years, and it doesn’t take too long to settle back into the wanderer’s mindset, moving around, never staying in one place too long.

But they don’t complain. They’re strong, resilient, and resourceful – more so, really, than some of the knights you knew on the Guard. With their help, you launch quiet strikes at the border of Adment and Callia, taking down Adment’s forces small legion by small legion. Your group becomes known for your silent ambushes, though you take care to keep your identities hidden.

It’s like being a knight again on a smaller scale – planning attacks and carrying them out, knowing that you might lose your life or your friends along the way. It isn’t entirely unwelcome. Fighting still gives you that adrenaline rush, that grim, satisfying knowledge that you’re doing something to protect the people you love.

At the same time, though, it isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be. This life of fighting battles isn’t for you anymore. Yes, you will fight to defend, but you’ve found other ways to protect your loved ones, too.

It just cements the fact that you don’t think you’ll ever come back to Callia to stay.

Finally, Adment surrenders. You’re glad, truly – you’re ready to return to the shrine, as are your friends. As you begin the trek back through some of the rural villages, though, a few posters catch your eye. They spell out a request for the unknown border attackers to come forth to the palace and be honored for their aid in the war.

They know your story, Lia, Juyeon, Kevin, Sunwoo. It was only fair that you told them – how could you lead them to possible death without knowing why you came in the first place, why this was so important to you?

So you ask them. “Do you want to reveal yourselves?”

“I don’t think it’s a question of us,” Juyeon says quietly. “It’s about you.”

“Yes,” Lia echoes. “We’ll follow you, whatever you decide.”

Their trust still astounds you, even after so many years spent trying to dilute the self-loathing that used to plague your brain. “Give me a day to think,” you eventually say. “If you say you’ll follow me, I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

You stay up all night, debating. Your friends have already spent so long away from their home, fighting a war on your behalf. Is it worth it to take the extra few weeks spent traveling to and from the palace? Would it be fair to ask them to journey with you for even longer?

No, Y/N. You shake your head. They asked you to decide, which means they want a decision based on your feelings, on your desires. They’re kind enough to know that this must be your choice to make.

You sigh, leaning back against a sturdy tree. Why are you so hesitant about seeing Jacob again, anyway? You don’t love him anymore, not the way you used to. It doesn’t hurt you as much to think of him. Spirits, you even came all this way to help him in a war you weren’t even involved in.

Maybe you’re afraid that you’ll fall in love with him again, a tiny voice in your head suggests. Maybe you’re afraid that you’ll want to stay.

Oh.

That’s probably it.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you sigh again. You love Chan. You love the shrine. You’ve realized that fighting battles as a knight isn’t the way you want to spend the rest of your life. But you’re still afraid that seeing Jacob again will awaken feelings for him once more.

Wait. You sit up, frowning into the darkness. For your feelings to awaken, they would still have to exist.

You don’t love Jacob anymore. The thought of him doesn’t make your heart thump anymore, doesn’t choke your throat with emotions anymore.

Logically, rationally, seeing him again wouldn’t hurt the way it used to.

But love isn’t rational, the oh-so-helpful part of your mind pipes up.

You scowl. Stop making this decision harder.

As the fire dies to glowing coals, as your friends quietly snore throughout the night (except Sunwoo, he snores very loudly), you sit there, mind warring with fear.

By morning, you’ve made your decision.

. . .

The palace is almost the same as you remembered – high, polished stone walls surrounded by a bustling marketplace and lush gardens. The grass looks a bit wilted and the market chatter sounds subdued, but the kingdom has just gone through a war. You would be more worried, really, if everything looked exactly as beautiful as it used to be.

Anxiety bursts in your chest as you slip through the crowds, face covered in a scarf, getting closer and closer to the palace. Three of the Guard stand sentinel at front gates, and even though you’re too far away to see their faces, you’re sure you’d recognize at least a couple of them up close.

“Breathe,” Kevin whispers helpfully next to you. “You’ll be fine.”

You nod shakily. “Yeah.”

Two of the Guard cross their spears over the gates as you approach. The third steps forward, meeting your gaze.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of an old friend. Changmin!

“State your business,” Changmin says, eyes unmoved. It stings a little that he doesn’t recognize you, but it’s understandable. You’ve both changed over the years – you’ve grown out your hair, while he’s cut his shorter, and he’s lost the last baby fat from his cheeks – and you have a scarf covering half of your face.

“I have business with the king,” you reply, heart hammering in your chest. “I believe my presence was specifically requested, along with that of my friends from the border.”

Faint recognition lights Changmin’s eyes, though they also narrow in slight confusion. He looks at you for a second, gaze piercing yours.

“Is something wrong?” you ask. “We can leave our weapons at the gates, if you wish.”

Changmin shakes his head, shoulders slumped in resignation. “No, I just thought you sounded like someone I once knew.” He looks down. “She had a sword like yours, too.”

Your heart hammers at your old friend’s words. What would he say if he did know it was you?

His voice cuts through your panicked thoughts. “May I have a name by which to introduce you to His Majesty?”

Last chance, you tell yourself. Last chance to turn back.

You won’t lie – the choice sounds appealing, at least to your pounding heart. Glancing up at the high stone walls, you feel the old urge to run away.

You could. You could turn away from the gates right now, leave Changmin remembering someone who will never return. You could travel back to the shrine and forget this ever happened.

But Chan told you to be brave. And being brave doesn’t only apply to war.

You pull down your scarf, smiling at the incredulous expression spreading over Changmin’s face. “You can tell him an old friend’s come back to visit.”

. . .

After yelling at you for never visiting and punching you at least ten times (your arm is so, so sore, but as he reminds you, you should just be glad he didn’t challenge you to a duel right then and there), Changmin brings you into one of the waiting rooms. “I’ll find you and bite you if I come back and see that you’ve disappeared again,” he threatens before heading back into the halls.

Sunwoo raises an eyebrow, looking mildly disturbed. “Bite you?”

You snort, smiling widely. “Long story.”

Too soon, though, there’s another set of footsteps echoing outside of the room. The smile slowly starts to slip off your face, and your heart, previously calmed by Changmin’s characteristic welcome, starts to pound again.

Be brave. Chan’s voice speaks in your mind. Be brave.

You steel yourself.

Then Jacob appears in the doorway, and the room feels like it’s falling away.

. . .

By the time your mind has caught up to the present, you’re wrapped in Jacob’s strong arms, in one of those Jacob hugs that you used to yearn for every day. It’s comforting, warm, but to your pleasant surprise, there’s no hurt. No pain.

You only feel happy.

“You came back,” Jacob whispers, more to himself than to you. “You came back.”

You just laugh, squeezing your best friend harder. “I did.”

Thankfully, your friends understand that you need some time with Jacob alone. Changmin leads them out, already bickering with Sunwoo (how they became friends so quickly, you’re not sure you want to know). In the silence of the room, you and Jacob just stare at each other for a moment.

“I –”

“What –”

You burst into laughter and Jacob joins in, feeling heady with absolute bliss and relief that your worst fears haven’t been realized. You haven’t fallen back in love with Jacob at first sight. His mere presence doesn’t make you want to stay.

“You first,” Jacob finally says when you’ve calmed down. “You first.”

The laughter disappears from your throat as your smile dims. “I never told you the full reason why I left.”

Jacob is a good listener, a fact that you’re grateful for. If he’d interrupted you at any point, you aren’t sure you would’ve been able to continue. Still, though, it’s harrowing, recounting the love you felt for your best friend for so long.

“When I left the first time, I didn’t have any intention of returning.” You state the harsh truth with a bitter taste in your mouth. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you about what I felt, so seeing you only hurt. I didn’t… I didn’t want to feel any more pain.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jacob’s eyes are cloudy, filled with pain on your behalf. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known…”

“Stop.” You put a hand on his shoulder. “One reason I didn’t tell you was because I knew you’d blame yourself. It isn’t your fault. None of it is.”

Jacob sits in silence for a moment. “But you did come back.”

“I did.” A small smile curves your lips. “I found a place that took me in, allowed me to try and find myself once more. I found someone who helped me heal. So when I heard about the war, I didn’t have qualms about coming to help. It was something… I knew it was something I had to do.”

Jacob’s eyes clear. “I see. Your someone, your, um…”

“Husband,” you offer. It’s the closest thing to what Chan is to you that Jacob would understand.

He nods. “Your husband didn’t come?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I came with friends. We have our own things to protect, back at home.”

Home. That word surprises you as it leaves your lips. Home.

The forest, the shrine is your home.

It’s the first time you’ve made this connection. With the realization, a sudden burst of warmth fills your chest.

“I see.” Jacob leans forward, looking genuinely happy for you. “Things are going well, then?”

Briefly, you wonder if you should tell him about the shrine. You decide not to. That’s your secret to keep, at least for now.

“Yes, they are.” A smile involuntarily spreads across your face. “Very well.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit in comfortable silence. Then Jacob speaks. “Can I persuade you again to stay?” he asks, though from the look in his eye, you’re pretty sure he already knows your answer. “You can bring your husband and friends. There will always be a place for you here.”

It feels like you’re being thrown back in time to that day in the training room, just a few months before you left. Your answer is still the same as it was then, so many years ago.

But you have something else to add.

You shake your head. “Not this time, Jacob.” Your smile grows smaller, but softer. “Though I do promise I’ll visit you again.”

. . .

On the horses Jacob gifted you, it only takes a few weeks to return to the forest. You see the children and the priestesses first, waiting at the front of the shrine, followed by the other maidens and messenger boys. Their shouts of welcome bring a smile to your face.

Then Chan appears when you’re riding up to the gates, crushing you in a hug almost before you’ve leapt off your horse.

You lose yourself in your guardian’s warmth, in the strength of his arms wrapped around your body. It feels so similar to Jacob’s hugs, so comforting and soft and strong, but also so uniquely Chan. You laugh into his chest, tears beginning to stream down your face.

“I’m back,” you gasp between the tears. “I’m back, Chan.”

“I know,” he whispers, only holding you closer. “I know.”

A blissful eternity passes, wrapped in Chan’s arms, until he pulls back the slightest bit, just enough to press a long-awaited kiss on your lips. “You’re back,” he says one more time, as though he still can’t quite believe it.

“I am,” you confirm. “I did it, Chan.”

He knows. He knows, looking into your eyes, what you mean by “it.” He knows you don’t just mean that you fought Adment, that you came home alive. He knows there’s something more.

Something involving a certain past love.

Warm, warm pride blooms in Chan’s eyes. “Were you brave?”

Memories race through your mind – staunching bloody wounds, trekking through the forests at the border – but you know that isn’t what Chan means. He knows you can be brave in the midst of battle, brave in protecting those you love the most.

He wants to know if you were brave with him.

Your eyes twinkle as you remember the palace gates, seeing Changmin again, landing in Jacob’s arms once more. You remember his soft voice, his kind eyes full of real, platonic care, a memory you’ll treasure for years to come.

Where you once might have grimaced at the thought of your old home, now, the smile on your face only broadens with every passing second.

“Yes.” Your laughing gaze sparkles into Chan’s proud eyes. “I was.”

234 notes · View notes

wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

Ok as always i need angst 😂 what would have happened if when Myrine paralyzes Xenia and attacks MC, she managed to hurt mc 😶 the angst of Xenia seeing MC injured while trying to defend herself with the knife, until they end up in the situation of MC at the mercy of Myrine with the knife to the throat (battered and cut by the fight) and well... Myrine fulfilled his threat and cut MC throat. Xenia's reaction to it all while she is paralyzed and after. Thank you so much and sorry 😅 Send love 💕❤

First of all, anon. Thank you for giving me writing motivation with this.

Second of all, you are fucking cruel.

- Mod JD

Warnings for: Blood; Death; Attempted Murder; Grief; Trauma; Flashbacks; Angst; Tons Of Angst; Pain Xenia Doesn’t Fucking Deserve; Ruelle Hugging Someone Of Her Own Free Will; Did I Mention Blood?

Read at your own risk.

(These are Xenia’s thoughts)

“What did you do to her?”

“A simple paralysis poison.”

Myrine’s smile was nothing short of wicked as she waggles her fingers. Xenia could barely hear what she said next over her own thoughts - she should’ve been prepared for that, she’s such a fool - Iris jumping at her momentarily ripped her away from those, and when he got kicked away, part of her mind spat out some humor - she could see the anger on her love’s face, increasing with every insult that flew from Myrine’s rotten mouth.

(HOW DARE SHE.)

Xenia desperately tried to move to help MC in the following battle, but she couldn’t, helpless to only watch, helplessly lying there, her mind screaming out with pain and an endless stream of insults at herself, what an idiot she was, a failure, unable to -

Myrine took MC into her grasp, holding her in plain view for Xenia to see. Helpless like her, unable to move. This couldn’t - she had to DO SOMETHING, she needed to save her, get to her, to tackle Myrine down at whatever slushing cost there was, and if it would be her own life -

“You see, Xenia? This is what happens when you get sloppy. When you get soft.”

(I will end her.)

“You have so much potential. If only you could see past these nonsensical feelings of yours and stop letting them hinder your ambitions. This girl is holding you back.”

(This queen is making me stronger than I ever could’ve been on my own.)

“You could have achieved your greatest dreams by now, could have obtained everything you ever wanted... All you had to do was marry her and kill her, and you’d be the Queen of Lysende right now.”

(I have everything I wanted.)

She wants to scream it, wants to shout it over the paralysis, but she can’t. She can’t do anything at all.

“You could’ve done it any time - it would have been so easy. And instead you’ve wasted your time and energy looking after her, playing house with her.”

Her scoff hurts more than she cared to show. It reminded her too much of the way her old mentor had sounded when she’d accidentally added too much of a herb into her potions. Just now it was twisted. Ruined. Wrong.

“Take now, for example. Had you not been so concerned with protecting her, you might have been able to fight me now.Instead, you made a stupid, rash decision. And now you’re helpless to stop me.”

She’d protected MC because Myrine might have killed her if she hadn’t. But… could MC have slipped away? Could she have retaliated? Could she… Had she done something wrong? Was her protectiveness finally demanding it’s price? MC had told her to not always - was this what came of it now?

“Have fun knowing she bleeds out.”

With that, Myrine moved the knife over MC’’s throat. The queen drops to the ground with a gurgle as Myrine laughs silently and calmly vanishes in thin air while Xenia’s eyes fill with tears.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even see her - she had to - she couldn’t - she could only blink the tears away, tears of rage and worry and pain and sorrow.

(NO!)

(MC!)

(Ruelle, please… please, anybody must’ve…)

“...Xenia…”

(She lives. She lives. She’s…)

“... I love you.”

(CALL FOR HELP, YOU FOOL! DON’T WASTE YOUR ENERGY ON ME!)

“I’ve... “

Her voice is so weak, so gurgling, wheezing - Myrine must’ve only lightly cut her, to make sure to prolong her suffering, to make sure she’d die as slowly as possible.

“I’m so happy I met you… I… I just… I need you to know how much you mean to me… before I…”

(Shutupshutupshutupdon’tplease)

“You’re slushing incredible… you’ve made my life so much better… you’ve helped me so much, and I could…”

(Please stop using past tense, please-)

Xenia’s fingertips and toes moved. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

“I always wanted… hoped… to marry you. One day.”

MC’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but Xenia felt the words deep in her heart.

“I would’ve understood if you didn’t- I’m… you never would’ve had to, and-”

(One day. One day, I would have.)

“I want you to know… none of this… is your fault. You did everything you could, and that’s more than I ever would’ve asked.”

(And it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.)

“I love you. And hey… if… afterlife turns out to be a thing… you can… live with Val there.”

(Don’t speak of that. Please. Please no.)

Xenia heard and felt herself sob.

“I’ll say hi to him from you.”

(He’d love to meet you. But please… please don’t say this as if…)

“...please…”

“Xenia!”

“..I… love… you…”

Every word was torture with her still weird-feeling lips and tongue, but at least the poison seemed to wear off a little faster now.

“Save… your… energy… or...call...help…”

“I can’t… It feels as if when I scream, this is going to rip open further…”

(No… NO!)

Xenia sobbed again.

“Please… don’t cry… I…”, MC sniffled, “I don’t want to spend my last moments hearing you cry…”

That made Xenia sob again. Just while she tried to wrangle herself back for MC’s sake, she felt how her lower arms could move up to her elbow.

(Enough.)

She moved. Forced her hands to pull the dead weight of her body and push it with her feet, forced herself to turn around and fall off the bed, landing with a slam and a muffled noise of pain.

But that was worth it when she saw MC’s eyes on her. She didn’t mind the puddle of blood as she dragged herself over, didn’t mind how it stained her hands and arms and chest. She knew she wouldn’t be able to reach her herb bag, and she didn’t have the strength to shout yet… but she could cup MC’s face, she could lean their foreheads together and force a smile for her sake, could feel how MC took one of her limp arms and wrap it around her.

“Don’t… move… for my sake.”

MC kissed her. It tasted of blood and love and despair, relief to be with her, grief to leave her.

“For your sake… I’d do anything.”

Xenia kissed her again.

“Sweet... little... fool.”

Her voice dripped with affection, her eyes dripped with sadness, her heart bled at the smile that ghosted over MC’s beautiful features.

“I love you.”

“I would’ve married you.”

Xenia whispered, closing her eyes and holding her forehead to MC’s.

“One day, I would’ve asked you to marry me. I would’ve let you take off my veil as we sealed our love. I would’ve held your hand in public every single day, would’ve kissed you good night and good morning, would’ve…”

She felt a new rush of tears and pressed her lips to the smiling ones of MC, sobbing - and when she pulled back, she didn’t feel her love’s breath any longer.

“MC?”

No answer.

“MC?!”

“Xenia…?”

Silent.

And in that moment, Xenia found the strength to scream. Incoherent, wordless, full of pain and grief and rage and hatred, sorrow, despair, a love that was taken away, again, and left her heart ripped out entirely.

She held MC against her and sobbed, not caring to hide her emotions as usual, not caring that she knelt in a puddle of blood and had it smeared all over her, not caring that she begged MC to come back and cried for help at the same time - and that was how Ruelle found her as she slammed open the door, taking in the scene before her with utter shock and having half a mind to shoo the guards away with word to fetch a bucket of boiled water.

“She… Myrine… I… paralyzed... I couldn’t....”

Xenia looked at her niece with such pain that Ruelle took half a step back before rushing to her side, assessing the situation in full and then rushing over to Xenia’s bag, taking out the antidote for the poison and some bandages and other salves. She swallowed and crouched down next to Xenia - thanks to her aunt’s impeccable training, she was able to stay calm for now.

“Rub yourself down. I’m…”

Ruelle swallowed, handing Xenia the antidote, slightly uncomfortable. Xenia nodded in shock and pulled back, eyes on MC as Ruelle bent over her, checking her pulse.

“She lives. Barely.”

Xenia sobbed. Ruelle swallowed and cleared her throat - and she saw Piama, Lyris and Galen in the door a moment before the Spring Princess let out a blood-curling scream. Galen almost dropped the water they carried as Lyris pulled Piama close to him and shielded her from the view.

Only Galen stepped inside, dropping the bucket at Ruelle’s side before rushing to toss her Xenia’s bag entirely, then sat down at the Spy Mistress’s side and carefully touched her arm.

“She’s in good hands. You taught her well. You’re not alone.”

Ruelle quickly washed out the wound before practically drenching it in a healing potion, fumbling around in the bag and taking out a needle and yarn.

“Let me-”

“Xenia. You’re shaking.”

With quick, methodic stitches, Ruelle sewed the wound shut tightly, happy to see that the inner layers were already slowly starting to mend thanks to the potion - after she was done, she smeared another salve around the outer layer before wrapping it up in a bandage.

Only the slight shaking in Ruelle’s voice spoke of her fear and worry, and how soft it was in comparison to usual.

Lyris and Piama carefully walked over to the bed and sat down next to Xenia - even Piama got over her usual discomfort with the Spy Mistress enough to offer one of her hands. Xenia held it.

“Piama?”

“Yes?”

“Get a thick layer of sheets. Lyris, Galen, please take the blanket and help me get MC off the floor.”

Piama rushed off - one of Ruelle’s hands reaching up and brushing her thigh as if subconsciously, and Galen and Lyris carefully, slowly moved MC in a sitting position to slow the blood flowing up, then cleaned her up best they could. By the time they were done, Piama had returned with the sheets and spread them on the bed - the old ones were rolled to prop MC’s body up diagonally, the others so she wouldn’t utterly ruin the mattress with the amount of blood still on her.

Xenia hadn’t done much over that time, just sat there like in a trance, reliving past and current trauma in a loop, seeing Val and MC melting together - Val slashed by MC, she herself letting a painless poison flow between MC’s lips, Val dying from the apple, MC passing away to an illness she couldn’t cure, blood, poison, sickness, murder, death, death, death over and over and over again.

“She lives. She will live.”

That was, until Ruelle carefully took her hand and pressed it onto MC’s chest.

A faint beating. Not strong, but unstoppable.

Ruelle leaned in and… hugged her, whispering so softly only she could hear.

“You won’t lose her.”

Those words broke through her stupor, and Xenia sobbed dryly, wrapping all arms around an increasingly alarmed Ruelle, spending moments just there before she pulled back, wiping at her eyes and wrapping all four arms around herself.

“...thank you.”

She said weakly, breath shaking as she slipped onto the bed further and leaned in to kiss MC’s forehead.

“Should we… stay?”

Piama asked softly, earning a shake of Xenia’s head.

“I’ll… wash her myself.”

(So I at least did something.)

“Tell us when she wakes up again, yes?”

“I will.”

Ruelle said, clearing her throat.

“I’ll stay here in case… she returns.”

When she woke up, the queen hadn’t moved a bit, unsurprisingly. Xenia sighed and got out of bed, stretching as she walked to the washroom and washed the traces of last night from her face, looking at her still slightly swollen, exhausted eyes.

Xenia nodded. The rest left slowly, and the Autumn princess went invisible, giving Xenia enough privacy to take a washcloth and rub the rest of the blood off silently, only stopping to kiss MC’s forehead again and again, changing the bandage slowly when she was done with it - the wound already looked a lot better.

She asked Ruelle to get some broth and she did, Xenia working in some herbs that were supposed to help her body regenerate.

After that was done, she could do nothing but wait and track Myrine on her map, figuring out the pattern eventually. She didn’t allow herself any sleep, but she couldn’t help it, the emotional and physical drain overwhelming her with exhaustion. She fell asleep at MC’s side, two arms draped around her.

“... Xen… ia…”

Her head flew around. She rushed out of the bath and sobbed as her eyes met green ones looking right up at her, a weak smile on lips that she feared would never move again.

She wiped a tear away and moved over, taking a seat next to MC and stroking her thumb over MC’s lower lip.

“Hush. Don’t strain your throat..”

MC kissed Xenia’s thumb and closed her eyes, wincing a little as she tried to lean into her palm.

“Don’t move, my love.”

The look in MC’s eyes after that made Xenia’s heart melt. MC didn’t speak, but she slowly moved her hand and placed it on her own heart first, then on Xenia’s. Xenia took it and kissed it, then did the same.

*Sorry I worried you.*

MC mouthed slowly, and Xenia just leaned in and kissed her forehead, happy she’d invested time to learn reading lips.

“You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

She whispered softly, then pulled back to find MC smirking ever so slightly.

*It takes more than that to keep me away from you.*

*I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.*

Xenia mouthed back, and MC glared.

*Don’t you slushing dare.*

Xenia swallowed and nodded. MC stroked her cheek and then tried to pull her in. Xenia let her, and allowed MC to kiss her, softly, gently, feeling two tears slip from her eyes that MC kissed off of her cheeks before letting her pull back, softly smiling up at her.

*I’m here.*

Xenia smiled back and pressed another kiss to MC’s forehead… which was when Ruelle cleared her throat and slipped from the shadows.

“If you’re done being all sappy… can I tell the others now?”

MC mouthed a ‘yes’ and Ruelle left, leaving Xenia and her alone for a moment.

“She saved you. Stitched your wound closed. The others… helped best they could.”

MC smiled.

*And you never left.*

“I just sat there and did nothing.”

*Which no one would think to blame you for.*

“I-”

“You... stayed. You... let others... help... when you couldn’t... yourself. You… let them… comfort… you.”

“Didn’t I tell you to not strain your throat?”

“I’m… happy… you accepted… help.”

“MC…”

“I… love… you… always.”

Xenia kissed her if only to shut her up. MC kissed back softly, cupping Xenia’s cheek and deepening the kiss a little.

“And I love you.”

And for that one moment, MC’s smile blew all of her worries away.

#I'm sorry #I'm so sorry #anon I love and hate you both #xenia of the autumn #xenia x mc #reigning passions xenia #reigning passions #lovestruck #woeful wednesday

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blitheringmcgonagall · 3 years

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My Gallant Lad - Part 2

A wonderful anon told me this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fic, it’s part of my canon marauders fic We Can Be Heroes. But it works as a stand alone, so I’m posting it in four parts here. I hope you like it (Lily is very BAMF here but James here is the bravest I have ever seen as well as very clever so I think they are both fantastic), set during First Wizarding War during an Order mission gone wrong...

Read part 1 here :

TW: Lots of angst and violence...

Part 2...

Previously...

“Leave it to me,” he whispered.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and locked eyes with Severus Snape.

“Fuck you, Severus Snape! You absolute bastard! Stay the fuck away from my wife, do you hear? Don’t you dare go near her, you fucking piece of shit! I despise you, Snivellus! You fucking coward! Bastard cursed Death Eater! Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” James screamed.

Voldemort had now reached them and was looking between Snape and James in confusion, and with not a small amount of displeasure.

“What do we have here then?” he said, turning to Severus Snape and smiling thinly. “Someone who is not a fan of yours, Severus? How very interesting. These two Dumbledore followers are clearly not aware whose presence they are in, or they would shut up and keep their heads low unless spoken to!”

Lily made a disbelieving noise at Voldemort. What the hell did that bastard think he was playing at, pretending never to have met them before, she thought.

James elbowed her sharply just as she was about to speak.

“Silencio!” hissed Voldemort, his face contorted with rage as two spells shot at lightning speed towards them. “I am the Dark Lord and I do not recall giving you permission to speak!”

Voldemort looked up at Mulciber, still wrathful, his wand pointed towards the Death Eaters in the room.

“My Lord,” Mulciber said immediately. “They clearly have no idea who they have been captured by.”

Voldemort’s face darkened.

“I am most displeased,” he hissed, so quietly that they had to strain to hear him. Who are these two?”

“I have never seen them before in battle, my Lord,” Mulciber answered quickly. “But I do recall seeing them in Hogwarts, both in Gryffindor, I believe they were Head Boy and Head Girl, graduated in ’78, James Potter and Lily Evans, blood traitor and mudblood.”

Mulciber was obviously lying, Lily thought, in order not to embarrass Voldemort. It was as though Voldemort had rewritten history, their previous capture and escape wiped out of their collective memories. Perhaps he had.

“I see,” Voldemort turned towards Snape, with a bored expression. “Lily Evans? Was that not the name of the mudblood you coveted, before you realised the error of your ways? Still do desire, somewhat, as far as I can recall?”

Snape’s face remained impenetrable, but he nodded his head minimally. James’ face blazed with fury.

“Oh dear, I think that the mudblood’s friend is upset by this fact, Severus, am I correct?” Voldemort smiled at James and Severus in turn.

“Potter has always detested me, my Lord,” Severus said, keeping his voice steady.

“They are married now, my Lord,” said Wilkes, interrupting the conversation.

Severus’ eyes widened for a split second. Long enough for Voldemort to notice. Voldemort’s smile grew.

“Oh Severus, how delightful!” he said, laughing lightly, and turning to look at James again. “I suggest you spend some time showing your friend, Mr. Potter, what happens to those who join Dumbledore’s side and fight against us? And afterwards, if you would be so kind as to visit Mrs. Potter in her cell, and do likewise, I’m sure she would love to see you?”

James looked like he was about to explode.

“Wonderful!” Voldemort said, pocketing his wand and giving Severus a forced smile. “I’m exceptionally pleased, Severus, I do hope you arrange an entertaining evening for us! We are sadly very bored at the moment, and your mudblood has provided us with a lively diversion! Don’t disappoint me, Severus!”

“I will strive to live up to your high expectations, my Lord,” Severus said, bowing low.

“Excellent,” Voldemort’s eyes gleamed as they rested on Lily’s white face. “Wilkes, Villiers – take the mudblood and lock her into one of the holding cells, they are currently empty. Mulciber, Rosier – escort Mr. Potter to the oubliette.”

Lily looked at James in confusion and terror, as Wilkes and Villiers began dragging her away.

“I fear the mudblood does not yet know what an oubliette is, Mulciber. Would you care to enlighten her?” Voldemort said, with a wide smile. “I have other more interesting and pressing matters to attend to.”

All the Death Eaters bowed low in front of him, and Voldemort strolled out of the room.

“Certainly, my Lord,” Mulciber’s eyes glimmered cruelly. “It is a dungeon that has only one escape route — through a trap door in its ceiling. Escape is of course pretty much impossible. In this castle it also doubles up as our torture chamber.”

Lily’s wide eyes flew to James’ face, both still unable to speak. What if this was the last time she saw him alive? She had never gotten the chance to say she was sorry about their stupid row, to tell him how much she loved him, she couldn’t lose him now, they couldn’t hurt him, anything but that. She felt unable to breathe. A single tear tracked down her cheek. James looked back, a determined look on his face, she knew that look.

I’ve got this, I have a plan, his face said.

His eyes were burning, burning through to her very soul.

I need you, beautiful, I need you safe, she thought, her own eyes heavy with dread and fear.

James closed his eyes for a brief moment, and when he looked at her again, they were shining brightly, a warm smile, and almost imperceptible wink. She knew that smile.

Alright, Evans…

She tried to smile back.

I trust you, she thought, I trust you, James.

Then Mulciber and Rosier jerked James backwards, and her captors pulled her in the opposite direction, and their eyes remained locked until James reached the stairs leading into the dungeons, and Mulciber lifted his booted leg and pushed James down the stairs, hard.

“Stop it!” Lily screamed, unsure how she had overcome the spell so quickly, pulling so hard that she was momentarily free from the Death Eaters holding her.

They grabbed her again, looking stunned.

“A fall like that down stone stairs could kill him! If anything happens to him, God forgive me, I’ll come after whoever is responsible and-“ Lily was still screaming.

“How the fuck is she able to talk?” stammered Wilkes.

“No idea,” Villiers said, concentrating on trying to hold onto Lily, who was twisting violently in his grasp.

“James!” shouted Lily.

As they dragged her kicking and screaming into the holding cell, she heard the creak of something metal opening and after a few seconds, the sound of a sickening thud as something heavy hit the floor.

“Welcome to the oubliette, Mr. Potter!”

She could hear the cruelty in Mulciber’s voice.

“Wake up, Potter, stop being a drama queen, as usual.”

Snape’s nasal tones, filled with contempt, floated into his consciousness as soon as he awoke. He opened his eyes slowly, intense pain racking his body, making him wish he could sink back into oblivion. As his eyes accommodated to the dark, he noted he was chained to a freezing cold, damp wall, arms outstretched and unable to bear any weight on his feet, he guessed correctly that he must have fractured both his ankles when he was thrown down feet first. He was slumped forwards as a result. It was painful to breath, probably due to a few broken ribs. The difficulty in breathing appeared to be also due to the effort he had to make to lift his ribcage against his own weight. His shoulders were killing him, he wondered vaguely had they been dislocated. His glasses must have fallen off and he could feel bits of glass sticking into his face. There were torches in the corners of the room. And it was freezing cold, his jacket and muggle clothing gone, his teeth were chattering and his body shaking. Mulciber and Rosier were standing behind Snape, looking bored, leaning against the wall. Snape was standing next to a small table, wand in his hand, with a mask-like facial expression, revealing nothing. He concentrated on trying to breathe for a moment. He knew immediately that they had already used the Cruciatus on him a number of times, although he couldn’t remember much, if anything.

“The Dark Lord wants to know what you and Lily Evans were doing here today, Potter,” Snape said, curling his lip as he spat out his surname.

“My wife and I were going for a walk, before we were rudely interrupted by your friends, Snivellus,” said James, smirking openly as he saw Snape’s eyes darken at the mention of wife.

“Hardly credible, Potter,” Snape said, looking livid as he gripped his wand tightly.

“What Mr. and Mrs. Potter do in their spare time is frankly none of your business,” James laughed, his breathing laboured as he shot Snape a condescending look.

Snape’s nostrils flared.

“Sniv, you should keep your abnormally large nose out of this. Try to remember that Lily Evans hates your guts and that she never once returned your affections. You disgust her,” James said.

Snape appeared speechless momentarily. James saw his fists curl as he stepped closer to him.

“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge here, Potter?” Snape murmured through his teeth.

“You can’t make me tell you anything, Sniv,” James’ teeth were chattering so hard he could barely get the words out, but the utter contempt was clear.

“I can do what I want to you!” Snape’s voice was full of rage as his wand tip touched James’ right shoulder. “Crucio!”

The pain flashed through his sinews and his chest and ribs, stopping his breathing. All remaining colour drained from his face. He couldn’t even cry out with the pain, until Snape moved his wand lower and James heard himself scream in agony as he gasped for air, the pain in his legs intensifying dramatically. He couldn’t breathe and scream at the same time and he began to feel panicked, his pupils dilating.

“What were you saying, Potter?” Snape laughed to himself, glancing back at the two men who were now looking mildly entertained.

As the spell wore off, James looked up at Snape through the hair that had fallen over his eyes, dripping sweat and melting frost, every inhaled breath a struggle.

“I said… you can’t read my mind, I won’t tell you… anything,” he gasped, with a derisive eye-roll.

Snape’s face lit up.

“Wrong, Potter, I suggest you do your research a bit better the next time you say that to a Legilimens, but then you were always infinitely arrogant and stupid,” Snape was wearing the biggest smile as he plunged his wand into the base of James’ neck and intoned the spell.

The unpleasant tingling sensation behind James’ forehead, painful so closely following on from the Cruciatus, confirmed the spell was working.

Took you long enough, James thought, glaring at Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes, his expression somewhat unsure. He could now read James’ mind completely.

Oh for Merlin’s sake, man, I’ve been hinting you use that spell for bloody ages. I need to talk to you, alone. It’s about Lily.

Snape’s mouth shut tightly as he listened to James’ thoughts, his wand now pushing against James’ Adam’s apple.

“Why would you possibly think I would be interested in doing that?” he said quietly.

Because you’re interested… in Lily’s fate? Because you don’t… want her to die?

Snape watched as James’ breathing became more difficult, as the man pursed his lips together tightly while exhaling through his mouth and inhaling through the nose with his mouth closed.

“Of course not!” Snape said, dread and fear making his fingers shake as he grabbed hold of James’ hair and lifted him upwards roughly.

James gasped a lungful of air as he watched Snape, knowing the other men wouldn’t know what he was thinking.

Please, talk to me… alone… for a few minutes, that’s all I ask… you can bring them back in… any time you want…

Snape let go of James and watched as his body slid downwards, groaning in pain, his weight hanging from his shoulders, his neck hanging down. Snape looked back at the two Death-Eaters, regarding him with mild interest.

“What did you find out, Snape?” Mulciber asked, stifling a wide yawn.

“Not enough,” Snape demurred.

He looked back at James, unsure.

“I need to question him, alone,” he said eventually, sounding displeased. “Leave this room, I shall call you if I need anything.”

“Are you sure?” Mulciber asked.

He sounded disappointed.

“Yes, for now. Stand guard above the trapdoor,” he said, his wand still pressed to James’ neck. “You shall be needed again shortly.”

James’ breathing seemed shallower once more.

Please hurry… we don’t have much time…

“You have very little time and talking to me will do nothing to change that!” Snape snapped back, as soon as he heard the trap door swing shut.

“Talk!” he ordered, removing the wand from the other man’s neck but keeping it levelled at him.

“Of course it won’t change that,” James’ voice was barely a whisper. “We both know I’ll be dead soon.”

“Obviously,” Snape said coldly.

“And if you don’t do something, Lily will die later today too,” James said, lifting his head with difficulty and looking straight at Snape.

Snape’s mouth went dry. He had been trying to avoid thinking about that possibility, probability, but it was true. And it terrified him.

“I…” he said.

Fuck you, Snape, if she dies, I will hold you entirely responsible!

James was making a strange noise as he breathed in, Snape could see that talking was too difficult for the other man.

“I won’t be the one killing her!” Snape whispered, his dark eyes molten. “You killed her, allowing her to be part of your futile resistance group! What kind of husband were you? Did you want her to die? Were you sick of her already?”

“Pah!” James made a dismissive sound in his throat and spat out some blood. “If she dies… it will be… because you failed… to rescue her!”

Snape looked at him furiously, his heart racing, feeling unwell. He didn’t want to hear any more, wanted no part in this entire awful scenario involving the love of his life. Wanted this to be a nightmare that he could wake up from. Most of all, he wanted James Potter to shut up and stop appealing to his conscience.

“I’m going to have to Crucio you again,” Snape said, placing the wand back onto James’ chest.

“Are you now? How astonishing,” James rasped, looking vaguely bored.

“It will appear suspicious otherwise. Wouldn’t want the others to guess what you’re trying to do, would you?” Snape said.

James’ face immediately changed, and he nodded.

“Do it,” he ordered.

Snape hated being told what to do, by Potter, as though he was Head Boy again, in this situation – how was that even possible?

Snape’s Crucio was excruciating and longer than the previous spell. By the time it wore off, James was flitting in and out of consciousness and shaking like a leaf.

Please…

Snape stared back at him.

Please…

“Please what?” he whispered irritably.

I’m going to tell you how you save Lily.

“I cannot ask Voldemort to spare her! Not now, not in these circumstances!” Snape hissed, swallowing hard.

Not the plan…

He could see James was wilting rapidly, his mind becoming progressively emptier.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” he said, throwing a powerful healing charm at James. “What are you talking about?”

James opened his eyes and took a few deeper breaths.

“I want you to go directly from here to Lily. Tell her I’m dead. Tell her you’ve had a change of heart and want to leave Voldemort’s forces. Tell her you’re going to save her, that you’re doing it because you love her. She has a portkey on her. Bring her to whatever part of the castle is accessible by portkey and get both of you out of here. You can decide on longer term plans after that. If you approach the others with Lily, looking for help, they will accept you. Lily will never agree to join Voldemort. Ever,” James whispered.

James was wrong, Severus was sure of it, if there was no option, Lily would cave and join Voldemort. But having Lily Evans at last? He was willing to risk everything.

“And you?” Snape said. “You know I can’t-“

James looked at him blankly.

What do you mean?

“You stay here,” Snape said.

“Obviously,” James said, mimicking Snape’s earlier statement and tone.

“Which means you-“ Snape said, narrowing his eyes.

Yes, I’m quite aware, Snape.

James lips had turned a bluish colour.

“Will she agree to… you know?” Snape said after a pause.

I can’t mind read, elaborate…

Snape tossed his head.

“You know exactly what I mean, Potter!” he whispered irritably. “Do I… have I any chance with her?”

He could see James struggling to think, his eyes closed.

“Maybe, yes,” he gasped. “But tell her… tell her you tried to save me… that I convinced you… to swap sides… she needs to believe that…”

Snape’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t imagine himself saying that to Lily.

“Snape!” James’ voice was fading but urgent. “You have to…”

She won’t go with you unless she thinks… you have… please…

The man’s thoughts weren’t even making sense now.

“If I do this, I shall be risking my life. If Voldemort finds out, I’m a dead man,” Snape’s words were clipped, anxious.

I know… but it’s Lily… your only hope… with her…

Snape stayed quiet.

If he finds… Blame me… Occlumens…

Snape vacillated. He was an excellent Occlumens. He could blame Potter, a trick he had fallen for, and then an opportunity to play Dumbledore? The fact that Voldemort knew about his past infatuation made it more credible, but also more dangerous.

She’s dead otherwise, Snape, dead!

Snape nodded slowly.

“Do you have anything I can say to her if she doesn’t believe that we discussed this? Any secret code or words?” Snape said, leaning down.

James’ whisper was barely audible.

“Graham’s number.”

Disbelief written all over his face, Snape turned to leave.

Snape!

He turned back.

Be good to her. Please.

His dark eyes widening slightly.

Get her out of here, Severus, I’m depending on you…

It was ridiculous and stupid and laughable. What would he have done, in the same position? Would he have sacrificed himself to save Lily if it meant Potter won in the end? She was better off without Potter. Lily would see that, she’d come around, she would come to love him, he knew it deep down, especially if she thought he had tried to save her husband. Potter was right.

Would he have done the same, though?

He shivered, impatient to rid himself of these thoughts. Get her out of here, Severus, always telling him what to do! Still, there was no denying the man was brave, braver than he had expected, if you valued that. He found himself compelled to look at James Potter one last time – shaking violently with the cold, his lips blue, his body covered in the pinprick rash of the Cruciatus, his breathing ragged, his face grey, unable to stand. Potter’s eyes made his stomach twist uncomfortably – there was pain there, and that glazed look that prisoners got. But there was fire still in his eyes, desperate light, and he knew why they burned.

“For Lily,” he said to Potter, nodding his head.

For Lily… Thank you.

Potter was unable to talk now. Without answering, Snape aimed his ebony wand at the trapdoor and intoned a spell to pull himself upwards, holding onto the rope ladder.

“Get Hugo Avery,” he said brusquely to Rosier and Mulciber. “Tell him he can have Potter. You can help him, of course.”

Mulciber looked mutinous.

“The Dark Lord’s wishes,” Snape said.

Mulciber stormed off, cursing under his breath.

Snape flew down the corridor towards the holding cells, his heart racing furiously, wand out. He had thrown a silencing spell at the oubliette. He hadn’t forgotten anything. This was a dangerous game. But he loved Lily Po- Evans, Lily Evans, with all his heart. It was worth it, if it meant he got to be with her for the rest of his life. He stood in front of the door to her cell, taking deep breaths and flicked some dandruff off his dark robes, before entering the room.

***

Severus pushed the heavy door slowly, almost reluctantly, now that it came to it. He looked uncharacteristically agitated, his waxy cheeks flushed. Relief swept over him as he looked at Lily. She looked upset but safe. She was shackled to the wall, her hands above her head, tied together. She was trembling and pale. There was no sign of the Cruciatus, or other dark magic.

“Are you alright, Lily?” He said, hurriedly throwing a potent heating charm at her. “What are you doing here?” Lily’s husky voice surprised him, he hadn’t heard her screaming.

“What happened? Did they hurt you?” Severus said, moving closer to Lily and regarding her anxiously. “They hurt me by hurting him,” she whispered.

Tears tracked down her cheek, and Severus wiped it with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Lily,” he said, his voice trembling – he was slightly scared of her, and then there was unexpected guilt - guilt about lying, guilt about how James was going to die. “I tried to... I tried...”

He stopped and took a few breaths, looking at the ground.

“I tried to save him, I tried some healing charms and... and I sent the others away. I wasn’t sure what to do, Lily, but then I was called away and Avery had... I was too late, Lily, I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t look at her.

“No, Sev, please, not James, please,” Lily’s broken whisper made Severus’ heart ache.

“I’m so sorry, I’m... you don’t know how sorry I am,” Severus whispered back. “I’m desperately sorry.”

Lily didn’t say anything, silent tears streaming down her face.

“He... James and I, he spoke to me, he thanked me for trying to save him, before he... he asked me to save you, to get you out of here. I promised him I’d do it. Do you understand Lily?” She was looking at him blankly, through her tears, her mind far away in some distant time or place. “Lily!” Severus whispered urgently. “Lily, he wanted you to be safe! He insisted I save you! He told me a code word - I’ve no idea what he meant, but he said to tell you - Graham’s Number.“ “Graham’s Number,” Lily repeated quietly, as though dazed. “James.” “Yes, James,” Severus said, trying not to sound impatient. “We have to leave now, I promised him I’d get you out of here! Do you understand?”

Lily nodded, still crying.

“My beautiful,” she said. “My gallant lad.”

“Yes, yes,” Severus said, eying the door of the cell. “We need to leave! Now! If Voldemort finds us, we’re both dead!”

Lily stared at him intently. After a few seconds she smiled vaguely.

“I’m so sorry Sev, let’s go, I just... it’s so much to take in, you know? I can never thank you enough, for trying to save him, for being such a noble person?”

Severus squirmed.

“It means everything to me,” she said, her red-rimmed eyes looking into his soul.

“It’s nothing,” he said firmly, refusing to hold eye contact and pointing his wand at the chains. “Frangit!”

The chains broke, and Lily collapsed into Severus’ arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Can you help me? I don’t think I can walk?”

***

He heard the trapdoor groan, one at a time he heard the light footfall of young men jump down the rope ladder. He wouldn’t let himself think of her. She was safe. Lily - the kindest, bravest, truest person he had ever met. Their baby was safe. He had managed to keep Snape’s Legilimency away from those thoughts. Voldemort’s reaction to his rant, his own interaction with Snape - both had played out exactly as James had predicted, practically word for word. In another world, another future - he could see Lily and their two children, all four of them, standing in that field surrounded by wildflowers and joy. It was not to be. Not in this lifetime.

He looked up at Avery, ready. “Fancy meeting you here? I knew we’d get you in the end, Potter!” Avery laughed. “Looks like today is my lucky day!” He was rubbing his hands together with glee, his laughter loud and erratic, his eyes wide. He had changed drastically since James had last seen him in King’s Cross Station all those years ago. There was no trace of boyishness left in him, despite his laughter - his eyes were cold, lifeless, bitter. “What a pitiful way to die! This is how traitors die, Potter! How your friends will mourn! When I’m finished with you here, I’ll move on and kill your little mudblood. It will be reassuring for you to know what sort of death awaits her, won’t it?” Avery’s shrill laughter echoed around the dungeon. Please, if there is a God, let her be safe, he asked, closing his eyes. “Scribo per Ignem!” Avery cried, as a dark, liquid, ink-like substance poured out of his wand and floated in front of James, suspended in the air, shimmering as though molten. “Proditor!” Avery said, with a slash of his wand.

The liquid rearranged itself into the word “traitor”, that seared into the skin of James’ chest, sizzling as it burned, unbearable. “Crucio!” said Avery, placing the tip of his wand inside the burnt flesh.

James blacked out with the pain. He flirted in and out of consciousness, each time the pain overwhelmed him and he felt everything fade into blessed darkness, one of the three men threw a powerful healing charm at him, which kept him awake long enough for another Crucio. Mulciber and Rosier joined in, Sectumsempra one of the many spells they used.

He could feel his body weakening with the blood loss. Lily would have their child, a boy, Harry. Thinking about Lily would only endanger her safety, in case she felt his presence. His parents would be proud of him for saving Lily, and they would have a beloved grandchild. Sirius and the Marauders would make the most excellent uncles. Nobody was a loser. For a moment he thought of Sirius losing his blood brother, then losing him too. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his brother, ignoring the pain. I’m fine, Sirius old chap, this is how it ends. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m too weak to cope with losing any of you. You deserve a long life with Moony, the best man we have ever known.

He opened his eyes again and saw Mr and Mrs Evans standing beside him, smiling.

“I kept my promise, Sir,” he tried to say.

When he blinked, they were gone. He fought it, yet as he sank into darkness, all he could think about was Lily.

Lily, Lily, Lily…

#OUCH #canon jily #first wizarding war #canon marauders #WCBH one shots #lily recues james #BAMF Lily #BAMF James #fuck Sn*pe #not for you if you like sneep #jily angst #tw: violence #you haven't seen what Lily does yet...#happy to post next part whenever you want me to

41 notes · View notes

worldoffanfiction2021 · 3 years

Text

Eternal Love of Dream - Chapter Next 2

(Image source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1829656087662319/)

The Bai household was bustling with activity today. The former queen of Quingqui and the future queen of Sky Kingdom, Bai Xian was visiting after a long time. Her son Ah-li was with her too. He had always been quite close to his Fengjiu Jiejie. Knowing that Fengjiu was in coma had had both Xian and Ah-li worried. So they had come to check on her.

Bai Xian and Dijun exchanged pleasantries. Dijun introduced Gungun. After the initial shock and surprise, Bai Xian and Gungun took an instant liking to this little silver haired boy.

Bai Xian checked on the sleeping Fengjiu and then excused herself. She went on to look for her mother.

Ah-li and Gungun took a seat at the window, watching the birds outside and started chatting. Dijun busied himself with preparing medicine for his wife. He could hear the little boys talk excitedly nearby.

“So, where have you lived all this while, Gungun? What’s your home like?”, asked the ever curious Ah-li.

“Mother and I lived in the mortal realm. Not in any one place though. Mother says I grow much slowly than mortal children so to avoid people talking and making more trouble, we move every few months or every couple years.”, Gungun explained. “We still do get into plenty of trouble anyways, but at least we have gotten better in the last couple years”, he added.

That just piqued A-li’s interest immensely and his eyes shone brightly. “Tell me all about it. I know when I went around with Fengjiu Jiejie we often got into trouble, but she always made an adventure out of it.”

Dijun was listening, he did get worried when Gungun said trouble, but on hearing Ah-li’s response, a tiny chuckle escaped him. Yes, that was true. His Xiaobai could turn a trouble into an adventure any time. That was one of the many things he admired about her. Curious to learn more, he diverted his attention back to the little boys by the window.

“Well, my earliest memory is of Mother fighting a bunch of roughs. Their leader wanted to hold Mother’s hand and take her away. He said he had never seen a beauty like her. Mother tried to reason with him to leave her alone, but when he didn’t listen, she kicked him. So they all came to fight with her.

Out of nowhere Mother took out a knife, made it into a sword and fought them all by herself. But the leader guy was sly. He picked me up and started threatening her. She was furious. She did something with her hand, a bright red light shot up and the guy holding me went flying backwards, while Mother caught me. That scared them all and they ran away shouting. But all that fighting had injured Mother too. She was bleeding all over and was also spitting blood. I was very scared. But Mother is brave. She smiled at me, told me not to worry, collected just a few things from home and took me away.” Gungun’s face showed all kinds emotions as he spoke. But most of all, you could feel the pride the little boy felt for his Mother. She was his hero.

Listening to all this perturbed Dijun’s heart. He should have been there for her. She had been all alone while he was still alive. He had promised her, over and over, that he would never leave her alone. That he would always be with her. He had failed miserably to keep that promise. No wonder she had not believed him and walked away, when he had said no one was more important to him than her. After what she had gone through, after what he had inadvertently put her through, how could she ever believe him? Why should she believe him? His heart broke at the thought. The ring on Xiaobai’s finger glowed again.

Ah-li’s eyes had grown as big as saucers. “Wow, what an amazing story! I am so proud of Fengjiu Jiejie. Tell me more.”, Ah-li said leaning closer.

“More? Well there are so many stories like this. A few months later, Mother had started covering up the Phoenix feather on her forehead with something she called cosmetics. She had also started dying my hair black so we could both look more like mortals. At that time she ran a small tea stall in a different town. One day it started raining heavily and before we could wrap up our stall and go home, we were both drenched. Her cosmetics had washed away and the Phoenix feather on her forehead glowed. I thought it looked so pretty, but there was a mortal nearby who saw and told everyone she was a demon. People gathered around us and wanted to throw all kinds of things at us. The bad guy jeered at us, he told everyone to capture Mother and hand her over to him. Mother did something clever this time. She did some magic to make the black snake come out of his sleeve. And then she told everyone that the guy himself was a bad wizard and he kept black snakes as pets. That scared everyone long enough and we ran away.”, Gungun recalled.

“You ran away to where? What did you do after running away? Did the bad guy chase you? Tell me, tell me, tell me....”, Ah-li begged to know more.

“He tried to chase us, but we were too fast for him. Mother flew us away to nearby forest and we took shelter in a cave that time. Her magic had hurt her though. She was spitting blood for so many days after that. She said it was because of backfire from her magic. Immortals were not allowed to use magic in mortal realm, so it was like a punishment. ”

“We began living in that cave. We did not have any quilts etc in there, but Mother made us beds with some grass and we kept fire running at the door all the time. Mother said it kept the wild animals away. She worked hard there too. She would take me on her back and go gathering fruits and hunting during the day. At night she would feed me first and eat only if something was left over. She used to get fever at night for several nights - may be because of the back fire or the cold in that cave. But at least we were safe from bad guys for the time being. In spite of all this, she always kept smiling and told me I was enough for her to be happy. I tried to help as best as I could. Slowly things got better as Mother recovered. We lived in that cave for several months, all the way till winter was almost starting.”

“That’s an amazing story! I wish I could have been there with you both. I would have also helped and would have also enjoyed the adventures.”, Ah-li sighed.

Chonglin came in at that very moment. He bowed to Dijun and the little ‘your majesties’. He had brought dinner for Dijun and a message for the boys. “Your grandma said you both need to come with me. I will help you wash up for dinner.”, he said.

Gungun looked at Dijun as if asking for permission silently. He didn’t really know Chonglin yet. Dijun smiled and nodded a yes. All of them left to go eat.

Dijun was alone with his wife. He left the food alone for the time being and gave her her medicine. He lovingly wiped her face and adjusted the quilt on her. He bent down and planted a soft kiss on the Phoenix feather on her forehead. Dijun sighed. Xiaobai did not stir.

He sat next to her bed as he started eating. His thoughts drifted again. He had wondered why she had stubbornly stayed away from him for almost 200 years. Even if she was mad at him, she could not have stayed mad at him for that long. She would have at least tried to meet him once. She would not have made a deliberate attempt to avoid him like that.

Her actions were becoming more and more clear now. When he did not show up for their wedding and also didn’t show up for over a couple months after that, she was forced to believe that he had given up on them. She must have believed that he had chosen Ji Feng and left her. She must have realized she was pregnant at that time. So to avoid complicating things, she had taken herself away. She had stayed away to protect his son and also to protect him.

It had been a huge mistake to hide things from her. It had been his mistake. It had been his love. She had paid the hefty price for it.

And yet, she had come. In spite of everything. When she had heard Dijun’s side of story from Chonglin and found out about his battle with Miao Luo, she had kept everything else aside and rushed to protect him.

He recalled how her delicate, fragile frame had burst in through the Star Light ward wielding her Pottery sword in front of the fearsome Miao Luo. Her graceful, agile movements had showed no trace of hesitation. She was determined to save him. Even if it meant sacrificing herself.

How could someone love him so much? How could she love him so much? Love was mysterious in many ways!

He realized that while he thought he was protecting her, she had suffered so much. For him.

And in the end it had been her who had protected him. It was the blood from her heart, the heart of the only red nine-tailed fox in the universe, that had cleansed the immense negative energy from Miao Luo. It was her blood that had destroyed Miao Luo forever, cleared up all the negative energy, broken the Star Light ward and saved him. Saved Bihai Cangling. Saved this universe from chaos.

Yes, he had underestimated her grossly. He had been captivated by her ethereal fragile beauty, her innocence. He had completely missed her strength, her perseverance and her power. Yes, she was powerful. In her own right. She had not need him as much as he had needed her, he thought wryly.

Yes, she was the only one for him.

#three lives three worlds the pillow book #eternal love of dream #pillow book #bai feng jiu #dong hua #donghua dijun #xiao bai #bai gun gun #cdrama

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randominagines · 3 years

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Request: hiii, how are you? Can you write a Peter Pevensie X female reader in which she is at Miraz's castle and she is maybe Caspian's bf or sister idk and they save her and Peter likes her. A happy ending if possible. Thanks a loooot

Requested by: anon

Pairing: Peter Pevensie X fem!reader

Setting: Caspian's time

Warning: violence, blood, death of minor characters (very minor), what if, angst

P.s. if you find any mistake please correct me, English is not my mother tongue and I want to improve. Reblog, if you can, it helps a lot, thank you💕

P.p.s. gif belongs to the creator

Worthy

Miraz's Castle was a proper maze: Peter was running through the corridors hoping to find the way out without having to ask Caspian. He was still mad about his deviation, thanks to him the plan was totally screwed up.

"Wait, we need to take someone with us" Caspian said and suddenly stopped, he turned left and crossed a small aisle, Peter and Susan couldn't see where it led.

"Can we stop waisting time?" Susan whispered while following him, Peter was about to go ballistic. The aisle eventually ended up and led to a big brown door.

"What on Earth are we doing here?" Peter asked, his voice filled with frustration and his hand almost squeezing the hilt of his sword.

"My mentor, Doctor Cornelius, he has an apprentice who appears to be my best friend, I want to take her with us" He said while slowly pulling the handle of the door down. Peter and Susan exchanged a look and checked if someone was around. The heavy door opened with a mild squeaking. Caspian looked inside and tensed up: she seemed to be nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe she escaped"Susan whispered while taking a look inside the room. "Impossible, she knew that she would have endangered Cornelius, she couldn't even know that I sat him free" Caspian said nervously, he was starting to panic: she was the only person, besides Cornelius, that he really cared about.

"Let me check" Peter impatiently said and pushed the door, he took a step inside and before he could see anything he felt the cold of a blade's tip behind his back.

"Not another step" A female voice firmly said, he let go of his sword and raised his hands. "Y/n, it's me, Caspian" The boy whispered and the girl immediately turned back.

"Caspian, I thought you were dead" She said and hugged him, the boy gently caressed the back of her head, in an almost fraternal way. Peter turned around and, as soon as she unknotted the hug, he saw her: he didn't know what to expect, but he certainly did not imagine that she would have been that beautiful. Her Y/e/c were intense and fixed on his, her Y/h/c were morbidly framing her face, she had pink lips and she looked fierce. Peter noticed she was not wearing an elegant dress: she was wearing a pair of beige colored trousers and a white big shirt tucked in her trousers, a pair of boots completed her outfit. She was probably ready to escape or fight.

"These are..."

"I know who you are. You are Queen Susan, the Gentle" She interrupted Caspian and pointed at Susan, she nodded. Then the girl turned toward the blonde boy again.

"And you must be King Peter, the Magnificent. You are in every single illustration of the ancient books but I thought you were just legends" She said intensely looking at the young King, Peter smiled.

"Well, we ruled a lot of centuries ago, Y/n" He joked and she gave him a hint of a smile, she liked how her name sounded when told by him.

"I'll explain everything, Cornelius must be waiting for us, we have to go now" Caspian said all the rest of them nodded, she took her sword and they left the room. They crossed the castle while the noises of the soldiers preparing for the battle was filling their ears.

"What's the plan?" She asked, Caspian looked at her as if she had made a mistake by asking that thing. "The plan has been delayed, but we open the gate now and let our army in" Peter said and she opened her eyes wide.

"Not to be a party killer, but I guess you just lost the surprise element and Miraz is not the kind of man who make prisoners" She said and Susan looked at Peter in concern, he kept walking toward the gate. "Peter!" She called in his name in order to draw his attention.

"Our troops are just outside, come on" He said and while crossing the entrance courtyard to reach the gate. The three of them followed him.

"Now Ed, now, signal the troops!" He screamed while grabbing his sword and killing one of Miraz's men. She took her sword too, ready to fight, while looking toward the tower: she saw a boy and thought that he must have been King Edmund.

"I'm a bit busy, Pet" He answered while fighting against a man. She looked around and realized that Miraz's army was surrounding them, there was no time.

"Peter, it's too late. We have to call it off while we can" Queen Susan screamed trying to make him think clearly but he was already spinning the wheel to open the gate. Y\n looked at Caspian: they knew they were screwed up. They grew up in that castle and they knew that it was a impossible to take.

"No, I can still do this. Help me" The King screamed and they started to help him.

"Exactly who are you doing this for?" Queen Susan asked while y\n and Caspian exchanged a look filled with confusion.

As soon as the gate opened, all sorts of creatures y\n had never seen before flocked inside: minotaurs, centaurs, mice as big as cats, dwarfs, fauns. She didn't thought that Narnia's population still existed. She was fascinated.

"For Narnia!" King Peter screamed raising his sword. She did the same together with Susan and Caspian and the battle begun.

It was impossible to win, too many men were surrounding Peter's army, but they still fought with such a passion. At a certain point, a man pushed her on the floor by hitting her back, she lost the sword; she turned around and saw the man pointing a sword toward her face. Y/n was about to kick him when an arrow came out from his chest. His body crumbled on the floor and she saw Susan behind him, her expression concerned.

"Stay behind me" Queen Susan kindly told her while Y/n was standing up and picking up her sword. Another man ran toward them and she pushed Susan aside before stabbing him.

"Or you stay behind me, your Highness" She said and took a quick bow, she was surprised. Y/n turned left and saw King Peter looking at them with an amused smile on his face.

The battle went on for a time that seemed infinite, but they were losing. At a certain point the gate started to fall down: a minotaur stopped the heavy gate and king Peter looked at him in concern, he finally had realised.

"Fall back, we need to retreat. Get her out of here, now" He started to scream while commanding to a centaur to save his sister. He took Susan on his back and ran toward the exit. Caspian and Y/n stole two horses and reached Peter.

"Take this, your Majesty" Y/n said while passing him the reins. He took them and nodded in gratefulness. Caspian jumped on the back of the other horse and was about to take her when a man hit her on her aarm with his sword, a deep cut opened on her skin. She screamed and took her sword

"Get the hell out of here, I'll bring her" Peter said and Caspian looked at him as to warn him to be careful to her; he started to ride toward the exit, Cornelius following him on another horse.

Y/n killed the man stabbing him in his chest and Peter pulled her on the horse. She crossed her arms around his torso and felt his heart pounding under her hands.

"Fall back" He kept screaming while riding toward the gate. As many creatures as possible followed them, others were laying on the floor. She looked around and felt her heart heavy: they lost. As soon as the King crossed the gate, the minotaur let himself go. The gate crushed on him with an unpleasant thud: many were still inside. Peter stopped the horse and turned to look at them: she could feel his chest raising and lowering quickly as if it was hard to breath for him. She looked at him and noticed his watery eyes. She gently squeezed her arms around his torso and leaned her hand on his shoulder , as to comfort him.

"Peter..." She whispered as to invite him, he looked at her and touched her hands before turning back to a scene he would never had forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone was painfully quite during whole way back. Y/n kept hugging Peter with her head was still resting on his shoulders. The wound stopped pulsing at a certain point, because Peter had ripped the edge of his own shirt to bandage up her arm.

Arriving at the rock building and witnessing the argument between Caspian and Peter had been even worse. The air was tensed up after the fight and the general mood was on pieces.

"Are you okay?" Queen Lucy kindly asked Y/n while she was during her own wound. "Yes, your Majesty, it's just a cut" She said while stitching the wound. Luckily Cornelius has taught her how to medicate. As soon as she was done, she went outside: Peter was sitting on a rock, his eyes stuck on the horizon.

"Your Majesty, are you okay?" She gently asked while sitting next to him. He looked at her, his deep blue eyes filled with sadness.

"Please, call me Peter" He said with a calm voice and took her arm, he gently caressed the fresh bandage. "Does it hurt?" He asked and looked at her, she shook her head.

"I'm fine, I stitched it" She said and he gave her a glimpse of a smile before letting her arm. "This is my fault, I have rushed this and a good King doesn't act like this" He whispered looking at the rest of his army.

"Peter, you did what you thought was best, but you are human. A mistake doesn't make you a bad King" She said and caressed his arm, he runner his fingers through his own hair before looking at her.

"You helped me calming before, and you are helping now, thank you" He said and smiled at her, she did the same. "Peter, you will fix this, don't dwell on today and do not feel like you need to prove your worth, your people are already aware of it" She kindly explained to him and took his hands into hers, he looked at them and caressed them with his thumb. She felt weird, she didn't even know him, only through the books Cornelius made her read, but she felt the deepest connection to him.

Peter looked at him and felt in peace, he didn't expect to find himself in front of a stranger and perceive her as so close to him. He got closer to her, he felt the desire to kiss her. She closed his eyes, but before their lips could meet, a noise coming from the inside drew their attention. They quickly looked at each other and stood up; they walked toward the source of the noise, their swords in their hands. They entered the stone table room and Edmund was immediately by their side, maybe he had heard the noise too. They finally saw it: a big wall made of ice was standing in front of Caspian, and inside of it, Jadis was staring the Prince while reaching out her hand toward him. The kings and Y/n quickly moved: while reaching him, three creatures stopped them. Peter killed a creature that resembled a wolf, Edmund crossed his sword with a dwarf while y/n stabbed another creature with hers. She turned back and saw Peter standing in front of the wall, Jadis now talking to him with her hand extended toward him.

"What happened" Y/n asked helping her best friend to stand up, he looked at her and hugged her. She gently caressed his back, he was like a brother to her. "Jadis was tricking me into setting her free by offering me the power to succeed" Caspian explained and she immediately turned her face toward Peter: she was doing the same to him.

"Peter, you don't need this" She screamed and walked toward Peter. he didn't even turned, he seemed in a trans. Before she could do anything, Edmund stabbed Jadis from behind. The frozen wall broke into a million pieces and exploded. Caspian protected y/n by pulling her away. Peter kneeled down and covered his head with his arms. She looked at him and saw the disappointment in his eyes, he felt lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Peter, wait" Y/n called him but he didn't stop, he was desperate. She reached him a took his arm. "If you don't start believing in yourself things won't sort out" She said and he looked toward the forest, his eyes were filled with tears.

"I keep screwing things up and Miraz's army is now surrounding the building" He said, his voice was a mix of anger and sadness. She put a finger under his chin and raised his head, now they were looking at each other.

"Listen to me: I've read anything about you, you saved Narnia when you were practically a kid, you have been the greatest leader for this people. You are their King: they love you, the believe in you and they will follow you. You don't need to prove that you are worthy of your title and this competition against Caspian is only going to make thing worse. Put your shit together and show them why you are King Peter the Magnificent, because you really are" She said without stopping looking at him in his eyes, her voice gentle but firm and her hands holding his. He did not say anything, he just hugged her. She was initially surprised, then she held him back.

"Maybe I needed this, you are all right" He whispered and she caressed his back. He moved back to look at her for a moment, then he crushed his lips on hers. She immediately melted into the kiss: Peter's lips were soft and warm, his scent was strong but pleasurable and his hands were gently caressing her waist. She runned her fingers through his blonde locks while opening her mouth and letting his tongue in. He pulled her closer, now their bodies were attached and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. The kiss became more passionate when she bit his lower lip, he growled while she smiled and stopped the kiss.

"Easy your Majesty, there are more important business to handle right now" She joked and he smiled on her lips. "You are all right, y/n. I have an idea to buy us time. Come with me" He said and gave her one last quick kiss on her lips before taking her hand into his and walking toward the building. She looked at him in concern.

"Do I need to worry about this idea?" She asked while keeping up with him and caressing his hand with her thumb. "Probably" He said and smiled, she shook her head: that boy was going to make her crazy.

#peter pevensie x y/n #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie #the chronicles of narnia imagine #the chronicles of narnia #peter pevensie x oc

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izzyhavilliard · 3 years

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This is for all the Elriel stans out there, all the scenes between Elain & Azriel that we have so far (let me know if I missed any). To keep you going until we get a book an Elriel book (which I’m confident we will.)

”The silk skirts of her cobalt dress whispering over the parquet floor.”

It might be a coincidence that she was wearing this color the first time she and Az met but we all know how much Sarah loves foreshadowing.

”A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork.”

”Elain said, ”It’s all very disorienting.” ”I can imagine,” Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.”

”Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here. ”Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinkint. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, ”Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” ”That’s very beautiful,” she said. ”Is it not - frightening, though? To fly so high?” ”It is sometimes,” Azriel said.”

”Rhys chuckled, Cassian’s wrath slippering enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.”

”Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too wore his Illyrian armor, Elain’s golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulder. He ser her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in trough the front door. Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face. Azriel smiled faintly. ”Would you like me to show you the garden?” She seemes so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded - just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, ”Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors of the garden, sunlight bathing them.”

”Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports - likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn city - the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it. ”Why not make them mates?” I mused.”

”I didn’t hear you.” Azriel stepped forward. ”But you heard something else.” Elain seemed about to nod, but only backed away. ”I think I was dreaming,” she murmured. [...] Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. Mor watched the space where he’d been standing long after he was gone.”

”The two Illyrians paused their inspection of me long enough to note my sisters finishing up breakfast, Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink. Both males went a bit still. But Azriel sketched a bow - while Cassian stalked for the dining table.”

It’s important to note that Az & Cassian had the same reaction to seeing Elain & Nesta.

””Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” ”I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but he kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went.”

”But Azriel asked softly, taking a single step over the threshold and into the sitting room, ”What other?” Elain’s brows twitched toward each other. ”The queen - with the feathers of flame.” The shadowsinger angled his head. Lucien murmured to me, eyes still fixed on Elain, ”Should we - does she need...?” ”She doesn’t need snything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now - unblinking. ”We’re the ones who need...” Azriel trailed off. ”A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. ”The Cauldron made you a seer.”

”It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not... Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.”

”While shadows gathered around Azriel, Elain at his side, wide eyed at the spymaster’s display.”

”Then Azriel, gently taking Elain’s hand in his own, as if afraid his scars would hurt her.”

I think this is a parallel to his pov in ACOSF when he thought his hands weren’t worthy of touching her.

”But Azriel asked softly, ”What about Elain?”

He was the first one to notice that she was missing, not Feyre, not Nesta, but him!

”From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoked debate, ”I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowes golden in the shadows. Nesta said, ”Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare. ”I’m getting her back.”

He was literally risking his life to get her back!

”Azriel slid back the curtain - Elain was in her nighgown. Gagged, wrists wrapped in steel that glowed violet. Her eyes went wide as she saw us - Azriel and me. I shifteb my face back into my own, raising a hand to my lips as Azriel knelt before her. [...] Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. ”Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of hom as if not quite believing it. ”You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.”

”As Azriel battled to keep them airborn, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast’s face. Its eye. Another. Another. It bellowed, and Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home.”

”Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time - a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out. Contained only by the patches of power he’d slapped on it. Help - he needed a healer immediately.”

He held on to Elain despite that she was now safe while he was very injured!

”Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel raped ”swaying on his feet, ”We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.”

Again, Az is injured but his first instinct is to get the chains off Elain.

”This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. ”I won’t be usung it today - so I want you to.” [...] It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. ”Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. ”It will serve you well.” [...] Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade - Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the only space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection ... that knife.”

Maybe Feyre will give that painting to Az & Elain in the future?

”Send Lucien, then. As our human emissary. I studied the tenseness in Azriel’s shoulders, the shadows veiling half of him from the sunlight. [...] ”I don’t make a point of looking after his movements.” ”Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. ”He is Elain’s mate.” I waited. ”It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.” To know when and if Lucien sought her out. What they did together. ”You sure about that?” I asked quietly. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the sea.”

Az gets very tense while talking about Lucien. He also doesn’t spy on him out of respect for Elain, I also think it’s because their bond hurts him too much (as mentioned in ACOSF).

”If Lucien kills Graysen, then good riddance.”

He hates Graysen for what he did to Elain

””Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?” ”No,” I said, and meant it. Az seemed to loose a sigh of relief.”

He was nevous about getting Elain a gift, he does however give her one in ACOSF meaning their relationship has grown.

”In time to see Elain say to Azriel, ”Hello.” Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me. But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, ”Sit. I’ll take care of it.” Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. With a blink, she lowered them, and noticed her apron. ”I - I’ll be right back, she murmured.”

”There’s no going back to being human, girl,” Amren said, perhaps a tad gently. ”Amren,” I warned. Elain’s face reddened further , her back straightening. But she didn’t bolt. ”I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’d never heard Elain’s voice so cold. I glanced at the others. Rhys was frowning, Cassian and Mor were both grimacing, and Azriel... It was pity on his beautiful face. Pity and sorrow as he watched my sister. [...] ”Pick on someone your own size,” Cassian said to Amren, shoveling roast chicken into his mouth. ”I’d feel bad for the mice,” Azriel muttered. Mor and Cassian howled, earning a blush from Azriel and a grateful smile from Elain - and no short of scowling from Amren. But something in me eased at that laughter, at the light that returned to Elain’s eyes.”

Azriel protectes Elain & made her feel better.

”I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it. The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s - the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his Siphon atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footstept, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, ”Happy solstice.” Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly. ”I’ve never participated in one of these.””

”It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.” Silence again. The Azriel tipped back hus head and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys jouined him, the former grabbing the glass bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. ”Brilliant,” Cassian said. Elain smiled again, ducking her head. Azriel mastered himself enough to say, ”Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. ”This will be invaluable.””

”Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. ”What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. ”A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up”, he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened.”

”Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.” Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.”

Az’s shadows are ready to defend Elain.

”Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, ”There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

He is protective over her.

”I always thought she was born on the wrong side of the wall,” Elain admitted. ”She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two,” she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel. Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from. Cassian tucked away his puzzlement. Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long.”

”Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it. ”I was just checking on desert,” Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shiften to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.”

”Why don’t you sit?” She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger. ”My shadows don’t like the flames so much.” A pretty lie. She’d seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer. ”Why did you come if it torments you so much?” ”Because Rhys wants me here. It’d hurt him if I didn’t come.” [...] Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire. His secret to tell, never hers”

From the bonus chapter we know the reason he won’t go into the room is Elain and that her mating bond with Lucien hurts him too much. This really shows how much he loves Elain and how much pain it causes him that he can’t act on his feelings.

I decided not to add anything from the bonus chapter considering most of it is a scene between the two of them.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, sorry about any potential spelling errors.

#elriel #azriel and elain #elain and azriel #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain archeron #acotar #azriel acosf #bookworm #bookish #booklr #reading

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

His Mistress ~ JJK [Request]

⇢⇢⇢Word Count: 4K

⇢⇢⇢Genre: fluff, angst, AU.

⇢⇢⇢Pairing: Emperor!Jungkook x Concubine!Reader

Everyone had heard the stories about Emperor Jungkook and his wife, the empress. They'd only married because Jungkook needed to have a wife before he could become king and she'd only accepted because her father wanted money and power. Which he got, he got his own smaller palace inside of Joseon and he got all the money he wanted from his daughter, using her to get the things he needed in life.

"I heard they aren't getting on so well in the bedroom if you know what I mean," One of the kitchen ladies said to the other while you were washing dishes that morning. They were all much older than you were but that was because you were a new worker in the kitchen palace and were assigned all of the duties no one else wanted to do, dishes, waiting on the empress and making sure everything was cleaned after the day had come to an end. Everyone else there was more experienced with the job and with life since they were much older than you, the only other younger girls there were their daughters so they hadn't had to do the duties you were being put through.

Though you knew it wasn't good to eavesdrop on conversations this one was intriguing to you because the job you had taken was your grandmothers before she was put in the hospital and she'd given you details about the empress and emperor. Always fighting with one another, making a scene in the palace halls but on the outside of the palace, they were seen as the perfect couple.

"Is it her or him though?" Another elderly woman in the kitchen said in a shrill voice - it sounded like a witch in your opinion and whenever she spoke to you it sends shivers down your spine - You put your head down, wanting nothing more than to get the dishes done before going to visit your grandma in the hospital wing.

"I'm sure one of us will find out soon enough if the Emperor isn't satisfied with his queen he'll look for a concubine soon." The words cut through you like a knife, paying somebody to be your mistress, sleeping with him just because he ordered it seemed disgusting to you. Sex was supposed to be between two people who loved one another, not a man with too much power than he knew what to do with. The room fell silent the moment the doors to the kitchen slid open, the court lady had walked in and stared at everyone. She hated gossip and she hated when everyone talked instead of worked hard.

"Y/n! Serving duty and then you may leave." She ordered not even looking in your direction, you dried off your hands and went to change into the correct Hanbok for the dining room, ignoring the looks you got as you raced past other workers who had thrown you under the bus to serve the emperor and his wife. It wasn't a job that anybody wanted since the Empress made it her lives mission to make every girl who served her cry but you were tough, your grandmother had raised you not to cry in front of anyone. To wait until you were home or out of sight to cry, never let anyone see you weak. If they know your weaknesses they use it against you.

The doors slid open and you kept your head down at the floor as you laid out their food for them, you'd only been there a week and the Empress had already tried to make you cry. She'd taken hits at the way you looked and why you worked in the palace, she would try anything with everyone but you let it all go. Washing over you because none of it mattered, the job was good pay and you needed it to be able to look after your grandmothers hospital bills.

"You may leave." She spat at you but Jungkook smirked as he watched you backing out of the room, his wife wasn't watching so she hadn't seen the eyeroll you'd given her but Jungkook had. It made you stand out from everyone else that had been in the room before you. All the other people that had worked in there let it go or broke down into tears in front of them both but you seemed to speak back but ina way that wouldn't get you killed and he liked that about you. He beckoned his royal guard over and whispered in his ear to find you and have you wait for him wherever you would be that night. Not only were you beautiful but he could tell that his wife didn't like you meaning you would be a pleasure to be around while being a torture for his new wife.

"The emperor wishes to speak to you, I advise you do not leave." You stared up at the royal guard, he'd followed you all the way to the kitchen quarters where you were now standing in front of all the girls. You were sure they were all coming up with their own stories about why he was wanting to see you, the main one being the concubine one but you weren't interested in the position or to be a part of all of their stories so you walked away from the door and away from the shouting guard who was trying to get you to go back to him.

"You ran from a palace guard?" Your grandmother asked as you sat down beside her bed, you nodded and took her hand into yours.

"Said the Emperor wanted to talk to me but he's been looking for a concubine and I don't want that job," You told her as you added a blanket over her body. She was getting older and sicker with every day, you didn't want to be down at the palace but this was the only way she would get the proper care she needed.

"If he orders you to do something you can't say no. He's our emperor, he rules over everything." She coughed into tissue and you looked away pretending not to see the blood on the handkerchief that you'd made for her.

"She's right," You gasped standing up and putting your arms to the side as if doing so would protect her from whoever was inside the room. Your eyes glanced at Jungkook as he bowed to your grandmother, he remembered her from when he was a child playing in the kitchens.

"I see you're not in good health, what's wrong?" You went to tell him that it was none of his business but your grandmother began to speak for herself.

"Halmeoni!" You cried out in Korean but she waved her hand at your face and explained what was wrong,

"It's nothing but a cold, but because of the fires, I used to work near...Well, it's not doing so good for my lungs." Jungkook nodded in understanding and questioned whether or not there was something he could do to help.

"No, I can take care of her. The job at the palace is more than enough Sir," He smirked knowing that the Concubine position he wanted you to take would pay more than enough for you and your grandmother's health.

"May I speak with you alone?"

"No, I have to-"

"She'd be glad to follow you out Sir," You glared at your grandmother and followed him out into the small yard that was outside her room. The hospital wing was a large square around a small garden where the patients could go and sit. You walked over to one of the benches and sat down,

"It's customary to let the Emperor sit down fist, but I'll let it go since you clearly don't want me here anyway." He sat down beside you and you stared at the flowers that were growing next to the bench.

"You don't like me do you?" He questioned, breaking the silence that was in the air. It was pitch black outside except for the lanterns that were lightening up all four corners of the garden,

"You don't remember me do you?" You mumbled turning to look at him, he stared at your face as he tried to place where he knew you from. There was one thing that no one knew about you and Jungkook and that was that you had a history. As a kid, your grandmother would sneak you into the palace while she worked you'd spend hours upon hours playing with the other children that came with their parents and there was one boy that was always singled out

"I'm Y/n," You stuck out his hand to shake and he took it in his hand shaking it as you sat down beside him in front of the lake.

"Why don't the other kids like you?" You questioned, giving him half of a sandwich and then looking around. All of the other kids your age avoided him like he was the plague but you thought he was okay, he'd never done anything to hurt anyone and he was always trying to play with the other kids.

"I'm Kookie, and I'm not like them so they single me out." You sighed and bit down into your sandwich.

"I like you, you're cool. We'll be best friends forever." You hugged him from the side and then pulled him up from the floor.

You'd spent every day together since you were kids until you turned 16 and learnt his true identity, he wasn't just 'Kookie' he was Prince Jungkook and once he turned 16 things changed. He grew distant towards you because he had to focus on his studies while you focused on kitchen training, while he focused on training for a battle you trained on how to do the washing with your grandmother. You weren't kids allowed to run wild anymore, you were forming into young adults who had to learn the ways of life.

"Kookie, you're all grown up." You said with a sad smile on your face and that's when it hit him.

"Y/n?" You nodded and he practically jumped off the bench and starting laughing at the memories you had shared together as kids. Giving you stories that you knew by heart and then some that you'd forgotten but not the most important one. Your first kiss. It was his first kiss too and it was just something that happened and went unnoticed by him but to you, the first kiss meant everything. It was what made you fall in love with him when you were teenagers and kept you in love with him until now, 24 years old and still in love with your childhood crush who had clearly moved on.

"We were 17 and hiding out under one of the trees by the lake! I remember because you'd brought one of your grandmother's sandwiches again." He started to laugh at the memories and then he frowned looking at you you didn't look as happy about the memory as he did.

"I kissed you because I knew I was getting married and didn't want to..." He said slowly as he remembered why the kiss had happened in the first place, you looked down at your hands and nodded.

"Well, that's life." You laughed getting up from the bench and going back to your grandmother but he took your wrist in his grasp to stop you from moving.

"I have something to offer you."

"Look, your highness, I don't want the job." You started using your honorifics since nurses were starting to see why Jungkook was in the hospital wing but he hadn't let go of you.

"People are looking." He let go and you walked back to your grandmother's room looking in at her and smiling as she slept soundly, her breathing was ragged but she was still sleeping soundly.

"If you take it she'll get the proper treatment she needs and she'll be healthy." His hand was placed on your shoulder and you stared at it, you knew that taking the job would include having sex with him whenever he wanted and in return, you would get money, clothes, jewellery and now apparently your grandmother's healthcare.

"I can't." You whispered to him looking down at the floor,

"Why not?"

"A woman my age, unmarried Jungkook. Put it together." You mumbled shoving your shoulder away so his hand would fall. You walked into the room and kissed your grandmother on the head.

"Goodnight Halmeoni," You whispered before leaving the room but Jungkook continued to follow you even as you made your way out of the palace and into the commoner's area.

"You've never had sex-" You clapped your hand over his mouth to stop him from saying it any louder than he already had and he smirked at you from under your hand.

"It's not funny. I wanted to wait." He started laughing and you pushed him away, suddenly it was like you were teenagers again and it didn't matter that he was the Emperor. He followed you back to your house and you stared at him as he looked around at the small hut you lived in,

"It's small,"

"You live in a palace. This is fine." You told him as you walked through to your kitchen and tried to avoid him.

"Why did you follow me home?"

"It's dark out, wanted to make sure you got home okay and to make sure you pack your clothes since you'll be moving into the palace." You scoffed at him while shaking your head.

"I am not moving into the palace." He licked his teeth and nodded at you,

"Oh but you are, it's an order from me...Your Emperor. I'll have your grandmother taken care of and I'll make sure she's safe." You knew it was a losing battle so you just agreed. You didn't want to fight him on it knowing it would result in a loss anyway, at least this way your grandmother would be healthy again soon.

Four months had passed and you were still his concubine only, you hadn't had sex. He would take you out around the palace gardens like when you were kids and you would spend hours talking, laughing and joking about things that you had in common which you didn't think would be a lot but there was.

"It's been four months since you agreed to do this with me," He said as you walked by the lake, you were dressed in a white laced goddess styled dress instead of a Hanbok. Every set of clothing you'd been given to wear was white and you assumed it was because Jungkook wanted to let everyone know that you were pure. He knew how awful the rumours could be around the palace, he was a kid once and he'd heard his fair share of them as well.

"You mean it's been four months since you forced me into becoming your best friend." You laughed it off, on your first night in the palace he'd come to your room and you thought it was for sex but you just talked. It was all you ever did together, talk, eat and just have engaging conversations so you assumed it was because he never got to do that with his wife.

"She can't be happy with all of this," You nodded your head over to his wife who was staring down at you both from the palace entrance, she'd made it clear from the day you stepped in as his 'concubine' that she hated you.

"She's an idiot," Jungkook laughed and you shook your head at him as he insulted her. He walked you down over a small bridge and you were now sitting on one of the gazebos that sat on the water.

"Why aren't you married yet?" Jungkook asked randomly as you sat looking down at the fish in the water, you knew the real reason but you had to come up with some kind of excuse as to why you hadn't yet.

"The right guy never came along." But he had, he had and he was perfect but he was Emperor and married and asking you to be his concubine. You'd been in love with him since you were 12 but love at the age was nothing but a crush until you were 17 and the kiss you shared made you experience real love.

"You're in love with someone else." You scoffed at him and shook your head, unaware that Jungkook knew all of the tell-tale signs of when you were lying to him.

"Who is it? Do I know them?" You shook your head trying to change the subject when it hit him, you weren't looking at him, you'd moved further away from him and you were shutting all body language off to him.

"I have to go check on Halmeoni," You scrambled up from the floor trying to leave but he gripped onto both of your arms making you face him.

"It's me isn't it."

"I have to go-" You were cut off when his lips met yours and like all those years ago by the lake you had your kiss with Jungkook. The air was pulled from your lungs and everything around you faded into the background, you wrapped your arms around his neck drawing him closer to you and he wrapped his arms around your waist. Fireworks were exploding in your stomach, everything was heightened. His touch, the way his tongue felt when it fought yours for dominance and the way his thumb rubbing softly on your hips as he pulled away to let you get some air. He stared down at you as he realised that was the most passionate kiss he'd ever had even though he was married, he ran his thumb over your bottom lip to stop you from biting it and you stared at him, lust taking over everything in your body. All you wanted was him kissing you again.

"Can you come to my room again tonight?" You whispered as you walked off the gazebo together and back onto the pavement around the lake,

"Sure. I'll see you later," He kissed you cheek and ran off in the opposite direction of you while you smiled to yourself and headed towards the hospital to see your grandmother and tell her what had happened between you both.

"So this is why he's not slept with you yet?" You turned to see Jungkook's wife in the door so you got up to bow but she held her hand up to stop you.

"She's sick?" You nodded and she walked over to look at your grandmother closely. She'd gotten a lot better since Jungkook had agreed to make sure she was getting the correct treatment.

"What is my husband to you?" She questioned but you looked at your grandmother who was waking up,

"He's my Emperor who I serve." Your grandmother kept her eyes closed and held up one finger to shush you from talking to her, she wanted to see what the Empress was trying to do.

"You're useless to him, I please him in the bedroom so I have no idea why you're even here. He's in love with me." You nodded at her,

"He loves you, your highness, I'm merely there to keep him company during the day while you please him at night." She smiled and gripped the back of your hair in her hand,

"You're nothing but a filthy mistress, do I make myself clear?" She dropped you once you repeated back to her that you were nothing and she left out of the door again.

"She's no good for nothing little farm girl with too much power, you ignore her." You smiled softly at your grandmother and thought back to what you'd asked Jungkook to do that night, inviting him over seemed like a brilliant idea at the time but now you thought about it and how she'd reacted to you just being friends it wasn't a good idea.

Jungkook stared at you as you knelt on the floor in front of him,

"You cancelled on me last week and you've been avoiding me since...What happened?" You kept your eyes cast on the floor, you were in the throne you and have no idea where the Empress was and where she could come from at any moment.

"I asked you a question." His voice was stern and you knew he was angry with you, you weren't going to tell him about his wife.

"I realised what I did was a mistake, I wanted to fix it."

"A mistake?" You nodded and avoided his gaze as he looked you up and down trying to find the signs of you lying but you weren't giving them away to him.

"With all due respect Sir, I'm not sure why you have me when you have a wife who is very capable of managing your needs." He was taken back,

"Managing my needs? Is that what you think you're for?" You nodded at his question,

"A concubine serves no purpose except to please her master in any way he sees fit. I'm useless to you since your wife takes care of you herself." He huffed and you looked up to see him facing away from you as he stared at the wall in front of him.

"You're far from useless Y/n, god and you're kind of stupid." He dropped the whole Emperor act and you scoffed at him looking away and shaking your head.

"Then if I'm so stupid why am I here?"

"Because I'm in love with you too!" He yelled and you stumbled backwards a little, he didn't yell out of anger but out of pent up frustration. The moment he'd kissed you that second time at the lake it brought back all the emotions he'd felt when he was 17 and you kissed there. It scared him but he knew that you were the one for him, that he was in love with you, always had been and always would be.

"Jungkook I-"

"Don't say you don't love me because your grandmother and I already know you love me." You stared at him,

"You talk to her?" He nodded and sat down on his throne rubbing his temples as he thought back on everything.

"I go to see her when I can't sleep and you're asleep. We talk about you and we discuss how you feel about me and how I feel about you." You got up from the kneeling position and stared over at him.

"You have a wife."

"Not anymore, she's gone."

"Gone?! You killed her?!" You panicked and starting laughing while shaking his head,

"No, I didn't kill her. We're separated." Your heart picked up as he mentioned that they were separated.

"I thought you weren't allowed to divorce." He nodded,

"Which is why we're separated. She gets her own space and money to do with what she likes, I get my kingdom and my girl." He looked at you and smiled softly,

"If you'll agree to be my girl." You smiled cockily at him as he came down to you and ran his hand over your cheek,

"Your girl?"

"Yeah, we do everything we've been doing but I get to show you off at balls, you sit beside me on the throne, and eventually when me and she who shall not be named have been separated for long enough...My wife." You smiled at him and nodded,

"I'd love to be your girl Jungkook." He smiled and placed his hands on your hips taking in a deep breath and sighing,

"Then as my girl, I want to take you out to dinner. Me, you and your grandmother. We'll go out or we will go to her." You agreed with him and he kissed you lovingly on the lips, the fireworks inside of you exploded again and your head span as you kissed him.

"I love you." He whispered as he pulled away, running his hand over your cheek and then kissing where he'd rubbed.

"I love you too Kookie," You whispered back to him, walking out of the throne room hand in hand so you could go and find your grandmother.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @fan-ati--c @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @btsiguess-kpop @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

refreshing

pairing: hardcase / jedi!reader

word count: 4122

summary: you’re able to convince (read: blackmail) anakin into letting the troops take a pit stop on your home planet of naboo for a couple days of morale boost.

request: hi i’d like to order a hardcase combo with a side of smooching (u write him so well i’m a mess!!!)

warnings: unprotected sex, outdoor sex, slight exhibitionist kink?

a/n: my first time writing a full-length fic with smut!! always remember, wrap it before you tap it.

“we are not stopping there, y/n. there’s no time.”

“just like there wasn’t time for you to make a ‘very important call’ to someone that wasn’t even a jedi right before our last battle.”

“how did you-“

“i have more than two brain cells, anakin. now next time you speak to the senator, make sure you tell her i said hi.”

silence. then he tersely orders the pilot to set the coordinates to naboo, silently beginning to contemplate a way to get payback.

you entered the clones’ barracks by anakin’s side, a wild grin still crossing your face at the success of your plan. heads turned to the sudden entrance of two generals and several shinies abruptly stood at attention before being relaxed by older brothers. neither you nor anakin enjoyed the idea of your men dropping everything for something as time-consuming as a salute.

“good news men,” anakin begins while barely stifling a groan. “before we return to coruscant, we’ll be making a brief pit stop.”

that was a poor way to explain it. several groans filled the air, thinking that there was yet another mission to be completed. the men hadn’t been on leave for several long and testing weeks and the idea of such overworking was rather repulsive.

“boys, don’t look so glum! we’re going on vacation!” your giddy shout shocks several of them and confounds many others. why the kriff would they go on vacation? they were soldiers fighting a war, there was no time for something so trivial. even if there were, they were clones. clones weren’t given vacations.

anakin takes a moment to enjoy the bafflement before clarifying your statement. “on paper we’re touching base with the local government to ensure friendly republic relations. once we’re there, however, we will have two days of pre-leave leave. a vacation, if you will.”

rex was dubious. “are you sure this is allowed, sir?”

oh rex, always dependable when it came to the book. his sense of duty was unrivaled, and moments like this made it clear. “anakin and i have both done far worse things without the council’s approval. surely an impromptu morale boost wouldn’t even hit the top ten.” your grin disarmed several troopers, them finally beginning to accept that they were indeed getting a small vacation.

“as long as you’re sure, general,” a small smile graced the captain’s face as he turned to speak to his brothers. “men, we’re going on vacation.”

“but sir,” dogma spoke up. you turned to him and took in the way his eyebrows and tattoo were twisted in concern, finding it very fitting for the trooper. “what planet are we going to?”

“good question, dogma. we’re going to naboo.”

after a few hours spent at the palace, you and anakin were free to join your men. you had to at least make your twist of the truth convincing by actually visiting the naboo palace, even though queen jamillia wasn’t expecting any sort of jedi visit. didn’t need anyone finding loopholes in your future cover story in case they went to looking.

the five-oh-first was currently stationed in a wooded meadow dotted by several tiny ponds and vibrant wildflowers. some were swimming, others were wrestling in the daisy patches, and there were a few napping on moss-covered rocks or logs. everyone was smiling and/or laughing, though, and that was the best part.

the speeder anakin drove you back in skirted to a stop at the edge of the clearing. he offered you a hand to help you off, his driving being the kind that would quite easily disorient someone not used to his methods, and you took it with a smile. there was no way you would be letting him drive again, that was for certain.

it took seconds before your arrival was noticed. “hey everyone, the generals are back!” fives shouted to his brothers that were in one of the small ponds with him. the information spread like wildfire and soon you were both surrounded by men competing for yours and anakin’s company.

“come swim with us, general!”

“no, come join us for sabacc!”

“we’re wrestling in the flowers over there and need an unbiased ref!”

“our pond has a better view!”

“no it doesn’t!”

anakin laughed before bringing about a compromise. “we have two days, guys. we’ll both try to spend as much time with you all as we can, but i’m going to start by judging a few fights. y/n, you know where to find me.”

jesse and spears were excited to have won general skywalker’s attention, neither containing the whoops as they pulled anakin toward the match continuing on without them. from the looks of it appo was winning against jude, which was an interesting turn of events.

now you were left with a choice. you could go play sabacc with kix or go swimming in either hardcase’s pond or tup’s, both of which had spectacular views of the countryside. the decision was a bit biased (which you would tell no one) but you had to put effort into making it look like you spent more than two seconds making a choice.

hardcase was shirtless in front of you, clad only in his soaked briefs that left very little of his body to your vivid imagination. geometric lines decorated his chest, beads of water sliding down or beginning to dry against him in the sun pulling you in. it was hypnotic and quickly becoming a fuel source to your less jedi-like dreams.

you already had plenty of sources to draw from but it never hurt to add more. there was the wild gleam in his eye when taking down clankers with his z-6 and the way he’d comfort his younger brothers when they struggled with anything from night terrors to painting their armor. this wasn’t even mentioning the time you’d gotten a nasty blaster wound to the thigh and he had to carry you to kix and coric, the strong arms a cocoon of safety (kix told you later that you had called hardcase honey in your blood loss delirium and he flushed redder than a tatooine sunset).

he hollered in victory when you slung an arm around his shoulder, letting him guide you to the pond that he was sharing with queen and daze.

hardcase had to be frank with himself when he examined his motives behind wanting you to join him. it did have a lot to do with how he enjoyed you as a person, but he selfishly wanted to bear witness to the way you’d look with the pond water clinging to your skin and underclothes.

but that isn’t to say he only wanted you for your body, maker that couldn’t be farther from the truth. to hardcase, you were more than a general or jedi, and far more than a beautiful body. there was a selflessness he got to see when you interacted with civilians and compassion you showed to him and his brothers that endeared you to him. you were fun and wild and adventurous, and he couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted more.

you spent a few hours playing games in the pond, chicken and marco polo being the favorites. the guys banned you from being it during marco polo, realizing early on that the force was the reason you were finding them so easily and it was most definitely not hardcase splashing you like a child every chance he got. nope, that was not it at all.

the company rotated throughout the time you spent in the pond, the only constant being hardcase. it was pleasant being able to spend so much time with the heavy gunner without having to worry about protocols or codes. you got to just be yourself and spend time with hardcase while doing it, the recipe for a perfect day.

the sun was setting and campfires were built around nearly every pond, both flames and night stars reflecting off the water beautifully. ration bars seemed to taste better on naboo, and dinner was spent singing drinking songs and telling stories of brotherly shenanigans.

you were recounting one of the occasions anakin reprogrammed temple mouse droids to hit people in the ankles on purpose when you noticed it. hardcase’s eyes hadn’t left you for a while, and right now they felt as if they were dissecting you on a laboratory table with their intensity. you wanted to know why but that wasn’t your information to know right then. if he felt comfortable telling you then he would do so in his own time.

nearly everyone was tuckered out by the excessive fun of the day, quickly falling into a peaceful slumber in their bedrolls the likes of which they hadn’t had in a long time. but hardcase, he was far from tired. he was far more awake now than he had been when you were on his shoulders during games of chicken played with fives and tup.

you were enjoying the crackling of the fire paired with the occasional snoring from troopers on all sides when hardcase stood and moved next to you. he had set his roll down on the opposite side of the fire, a decision he now was regretting as he had to maneuver himself carefully around the bodies of sleeping vode.

he eventually made it to your side without waking anyone and let out a sigh of relief as he plopped down next to you. his shoulder lightly bumped yours as he scooted closer and you couldn’t help but be glad he hadn’t put a shirt back on after getting out of the pond for ration dinner.

peaceful silence was achieved (outside of snoring) as you enjoyed each other’s company. you weren’t expecting him to break the silence so soon, but you especially couldn’t predict the way he broke it. “i had a good time today,” he spoke quietly (a true feat for the man) and moved a hand to rest on your knee. “thank you for convincing general skywalker to let us stay here for a couple days.”

the crackling fire illuminated his face just enough for you to see the patches of red on his cheeks and tips of his ears as he continued. his eyes held your captive with their sincerity, emotions swirling wildly just below the surface. “i really enjoyed spending time with you, gen-“

“call me y/n, hardcase. please, it makes everything so much easier.” you had come to a decision a couple hours earlier about how you felt about the man next to you and what you would do about it. there was nothing in you that could maintain the semi-distance you had with him prior to today, not with the way his laughter quickened your pulse and sent waves of joy over you. even his force signature was intoxicating under the nubian sky, you couldn’t get enough.

perplexion overtook his features. he had no idea what you were talking about, silently hoping that you hadn’t lost your mind to fun. “makes what easier-mmm-“

you cut him off with your lips, silencing his question before he could finish. he responded in kind, hands pulling you into his lap without breaking the kiss. it started all tongue and teeth, the adrenaline and arousal beginning to flow through your veins as steady as your blood.

“gen- y/n,” he broke the kiss to catch his breath, quick to correct himself to using your first name instead of rank. his chocolate eyes were blown out with desire, his hands had ventured toward your ass, cradling it with the utmost care. “i-is this what you want? do you really want me?”

your answer was first given with legs wrapped around his waist, mouth meeting his for another breath-stealing kiss. but then you sensed hesitation as his hands gripped your waist and slowly began to detach you from him. he was worried and you had to reassure him, make sure he knew how you cared about him. “more than anything in the galaxy, my dear.”

your eyes conveyed this truth to him the very same way your words did, and the answer given satisfied him. he returned his hands to your backside and gripped the flesh hard before continuing the kiss. you opened your mouth to invite him in and he obliged, his tongue swirling around yours and maker did he taste good.

kissing hardcase was euphoria unlike anything you’ve ever encountered. there wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t aflame where your body met with his, the burn being one you’d relish in for as long as you lived.

one hand left you for a moment before coming back with a loud smack! that produced a whine from your throat. hardcase would do anything to hear that sound again, so he brought his hand down harder and groaned when his ears caught the mewl he ripped from you.

you slid a hand between your bodies and palmed his cock, giving it sweet resistance when his hips thrust into your hand. he felt thick and hot even through his blacks and you could only imagine how he’d feel inside you.

then a grumble from nearby harshly reminded you both that if you weren’t quiet, there would be an audience. hardcase grinned like a loth-cat before rising to his knees, arms holding you up and against him. “let’s take this somewhere a lil’ quieter, sweetheart.”

with the change in position you could feel his member press deliciously against where you wanted him, grinning in triumph when you wiggled your hips against him and wrestled a groan from the back of his throat. he was standing in seconds and barely bothering to avoid stepping on sleeping vode in his haste to get you as alone as he could.

he walked you both to the edge of the meadow, one of the tiniest ponds being only mere feet away from where he set you down on the ground. you pulled him down to you by his hips, not wanting any space between you as he nipped at your neck and jaw. he sucked hard at a sweet spot just above your collarbone and he nearly ascended to the stars at how beautiful his name sounded from your parted lips.

you tugged at your tunics desperately, wanting hardcase to take the hint and rip them off you. he was smarter than some gave him credit for because it took seconds for him to work them off you, tossing the fabric to the side with abandon. callused hands ran across your chest like the flowing rivers this planet was known for, learning the terrain of your breasts and stomach like battle plans.

his mouth descends lower and latches onto your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud before biting it gently. you’d never felt anything like it before and it drove you wild, his name stumbling through your lips.

“you say my name so pretty, y/n,” he smiles against your breast, lustful chocolate eyes looking at yours under long lashes. you reached your arms around his back and let your hands wander the waistband of his blacks, trying to tell him he was wearing too much but most of the words left you. the resulting sentence was fragmented and flooded with desperation that you didn’t bother trying to hide.

“‘case,” you breathed, “g’t ‘em off, please,” the offending fabric was hiding him from you and you weren’t going to put up with it any longer. he chuckled against your skin before moving back to remove his blacks. his boxers had long since dried from swimming and through the light grey fabric you could see spots of precome.

the boxers were peeled off seconds later and once they were low enough on his legs, he kicked them off to leave him completely exposed to you. his naked body rivaled those of marble sculptures kept in the elite coruscanti museums of art, and exceeded the expectations of the artists that had never been blessed to see such beauty in a man before. the tip of his cock was littered with pearlescent droplets you wanted to both taste and have inside you at that very second; you weren’t picky, either one would have you reaching nirvana in record time.

you sat up and brought him into a bruising kiss. he slithered a hand into your underwear and slid it between your folds, eyebrows raised when he felt how wet you were for him. his hand left soon after and, after breaking the kiss, let your lips wrap around the slick-soaked digit. you swirl your tongue around it and sucked lightly, hardcase loving the way you eagerly tasted yourself around him.

pushing him backward into his back, you straddle his lap and slide yourself across his length. hardcase growls at the contact and his fingers move to grip your hips and move you faster. but you wanted more, you wanted him to split you open and fill you up the way only he could. so you raised your hips up slightly and took his cock in one hand, steadily lowering yourself onto it with a moan.

once he was fully sheathed inside of you, your walls clenched around him and for a millisecond you thought you’d killed the heavy gunner with the way his eyes rolled back at the sensation. it was almost painful for hardcase to keep his hips from fucking up into you but he wanted you comfortable; not to brag but he was thicker and longer than average, and he didn’t want to hurt you by going too fast.

the stillness was sending you up a creek. you wanted him to move, to take what you were offering to him, yet he was resting while buried inside you. you were impatient and decided to take initiative, rising halfway off him before sinking back down. it was divine, the way he stretched you out as you went back down on him, and you could tell he was thinking the same when your name was emitted from hardcase with a primal grunt.

it took only a couple more movements on your part before he had you in a bruising grip, holding you up and pistoning his hips into yours recklessly. it was rough and wild and feral, the only goals being release and staking a claim into the other.

your head was thrown back, neck bared to him as he pounded you. in a moment you didn’t expect, he had you on your back and his head buried in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, continuing to bite and suck at the skin in a way you were positive would leave delicious evidence of the night’s activities.

the new angle aided him in finding your g spot, which you were both immensely grateful for. you were seeing stars that weren’t the ones above you when he found it, a choked whine indicating to hardcase the specific way to thrust to continue hitting it with precision only a soldier could have. his forehead pressed against yours as he fucked you, maintaining eye contact no matter how fast he went.

“fuck, hardcase!” his balls were slapping your ass as he went harder and faster, the man holding nothing back. he pressed a finger against your mouth before panting, “gotta be quiet for me, sugar,” he paused to give you a particularly hard thrust that threw you closer to the brink. “don’t want anyone findin’ us, do we?” the rasp and growl of his voice was unreal but he kept talking, and you buried your head into his neck to ground you.

he smelled of a smoky battlefield and fertile earth and honey sweeter than you’d ever tasted. a delicate lick at the sweaty sheen coating his skin had your tastebuds in paralysis and hardcase grunting mando’a curses as his pace grew erratic. he was close.

your walls began to flutter around him, you telling him that you were close with a moan.

“that’s it mesh’la, i want ya to come for me, you can do it beautiful,” he gripped your thigh and pulled it up his waist, spreading you further open for him and oh force it was unbelievable.

“come with me, please!”

“i’m about to, i’m gonna- where do you want it?” images ran through your head of him unloading onto your tongue or your chest and it nearly made you one with the force, but there was plenty of time in the future to experiment with that. you wanted him in you, to fill you up in every sense of the word.

“cum inside me, hardcase!” suffice to say, hardcase was not expecting that reply, shuddering in ecstasy at the thought of his seed leaking out of you.

“sugar, you’re killin’ me, i- holy kriff!” he thrusted a few more times before slamming into you balls deep, making sure that not a drop of him spilled out of you in that moment. you flexed around his cock and milked him for everything he had as the sensation brought you over the edge with him, his name repeated like a prayer.

he braced himself as much as he could before collapsing partly on top of you, sweaty skin mingling against sweaty skin. he was still inside you and the slightest movement ran the risk of overstimulation, but you didn’t want him to leave you empty yet. so you wrapped your arms around him and rolled you both on your sides, facing each other while still keeping him inside you.

you brought your hand to cup his cheek, running your fingers feather light across the lines and dots that decorated his face. he hummed in pleasure, eyes shutting in bliss. his hand not supporting his side was gently stroking the crook of your hip. neither of you spoke for several minutes, just letting yourselves bask in the afterglow.

then hardcase has an idea.

“hey sweetheart,” he begins softly, still hesitant to speak but just as badly wanting you to hear what he has to say. your hum of acknowledgement spurs him on. “wanna go for a swim?”

this man was sent by the gods.

that’s what you told yourself as he slowly slid out of you and helped guide you to the edge of the closest pond. you slid in and he was right behind you, immediately pulling you as close as he could. he didn’t try to continue the prior activities, just simply leaned against the edge of the pond and held you close.

you couldn’t remember the last time you were held for a reason outside of warmth and self-preservation. it was bliss, so comforting and peaceful and safe. you floated and let hardcase anchor you to him, fully trusting him to keep you above the surface as he held you and talked about anything and everything.

the conversation was easy and the touches soft as you talked away the night. you eventually wrapped your arms around his neck and used his chest as a pillow, taking comfort from the way his hands smoothed over the bruises he made in your skin a few hours earlier. his heartbeat was steady against your, the thumping strong and true.

“hey sugar,” he whispered into your hair before slowly unwrapping your arms from his neck. you let him and the water move your body, your back pressed against his chest and his arms holding you in place once again. “look over here.” he pointed to the sky where the sun was beginning to rise, the sky painted in pastel pink and lavender and marigold.

it’s been too long since you’ve gotten to watch the sun rise on your home planet. sharing the moment with hardcase made it all the more a beautiful. “hardcase, it’s gorgeous.”

he smiled and kissed your crown. “it doesn’t compare to a certain jedi i know, don’t even come close.”

“i didn’t know you had a thing for anakin, dear. i’ll be sure to let him know.”

he sputtered in indignation, laughing at the insinuation but taking it as a challenge as well. “you know that’s not who i’m talking about, beautiful.” one hand slides down through the water and comes to rest between your thighs, his index and middle fingers teasing your clit. you push your ass against his dick in retaliation and reeling as you feel him stiffen against you.

you spent the sunrise w in ith hardcase slowly thrusting into you, lips locked together and hands caressing your bodies gently. your legs were wrapped around his waist as he pressed you against the pond’s edge, taking his time with you as the stars faded from view.

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