#she's a very mercenary nursemaid
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The Great Mountains
The Journey - The Great Mountains
Summary: For enough coin a mercenary will play guardian
Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader
Rating: 18+ series
Warnings: Underage arranged marriage and infertility mentions. Mentions of rape. Murder. See the full warnings list for this series on the masterlist.
Word Count: 3,096
Author’s Note: The Great Mountains are the Alps. I’m sure they weren’t always called the Alps so I took a guess at what people in 1010 or whatever would call them. Also, wow, this chapter got dark for a split second. Sorry.
xxx
Another night. Another dim lit tavern in a small village. Pero Tovar was sipping on another drink, seated in the far back corner of the main room when a bag of coins was tossed in front of him, clinking heavily as it landed on the table.
His eyes shot up from his drink in the direction the bag had come from. There was a man in his early sixties standing at the end of the table, silver hair cropped short, beard well trimmed, one hand on a cane for support. He was well dressed, not a speck of dirt on his expensive shirt and pants. His stance was of someone who was important (or at least thought he was) and knew it. He was studying Pero, like he was trying to get a read on him.
“What’s this?” Pero inquired, tilting his head at the bag.
“Compensation,” the man answered plainly.
“For what?” Pero asked guardedly, an eyebrow cocked.
“I’m hiring you to bring my daughter through The Great Mountains,” the man informed him. “I have overheard that you’ve seen combat and know how to transverse the land. That you work for coin. You could get her to her destination safely.”
“That is true,” Pero confirmed. “But I am a mercenary. A hired swordsman. Not an escort or some kind of a nursemaid.”
“My daughter is far from a child,” the old man told him. “She is getting married to a man in Poland, but she cannot there travel alone, and I cannot go with her. Neither can her future husband pass this way safely, not anymore. With the ongoing war and the danger of bandits, I need someone like you to bring her on this journey. It shouldn’t take you more than a month and a half. You’ll be done with her before the leaves begin to change. I’ll make it worth your time.”
Pero huffed and folded his arms. He shouldn’t have even been entertaining the idea, but he was curious. “What’s the payment?”
The payment was pretty decent. More than Pero was normally paid for a single mission. It would keep him fed and sheltered for a full year if he was mindful of his spending, even if he didn’t do any other jobs. It was suddenly very tempting for him to accept. Even though he’d told the old man he wasn’t an escort, he could be one for that amount of coin.
It didn’t mean he was particularly happy about accepting it. He could only imagine what it would be like traveling through the wilderness and dozens of small villages for so long with a spoiled rich man’s daughter. He could already hear the whining.
But it was a lot of coin.
He sighed. “I’ll only do it if you pay me at least half upfront.”
“You’ll have that and more,” the old man promised. “I’ll be sending you on your way with extra coin so you do not have to spend your own to get her there.”
“And the back half?”
“It will be paid by her fiancé when you deliver her to him.”
Pero nodded. “Alright then. Show me a map of where we need to go and I will get her there.”
x
The rich man’s daughter was a lot older than Pero had expected, every inch of a mature woman, not the young maiden he’d imagined. Old for a bride-to-be by their century’s standards.
She was as pretty as he figured she’d be though. Definitely eye catching, especially in her dark green flowing dress that was highly inappropriate for traveling on horseback as they would be. She’d be riding sidesaddle, but the dress was long enough it hindered her from mounting and dismounting without assistance.
At least the horse that her father had bought for her to ride was solid. The dapple gray mare was as thick legged as Pero’s black stallion, and appeared to be of good health, her ribs not notable except upon palpation.
There was a quick exchange of greetings between the three of them when they met outside the tavern the morning after he’d agreed to the job, then the rich old man hugged his daughter goodbye, said a few words to her too lowly for Pero to hear, and nudged her towards her horse. The rich man had brought a stable hand with them, and the man helped her up into the saddle quickly, leaving her to adjust her dress and secure her delicate riding boots into the stirrups. After her father and the stable hand left she adjusted the reins in her hands and nodded at Pero without a word, signaling to him that she was ready.
He nodded back at her and started his horse into a fast walk. He could hear her kiss at her horse to get her moving, and after a couple seconds they stepped in stride with him and his horse, shoulder to shoulder.
They were out of the village in a few minutes, through a grassy field in ten, and beginning the climb through the first set of The Great Mountains in an hour.
In all that time, she remained silent, to Pero’s surprise. He was not used to a woman who was this quiet, especially a woman of her high status. Hell, he wasn’t used to riding with anyone that speechless. His last mercenary partner, a good friend, had spoken enough for the both of them. Not that Pero didn’t have his moments.
Usually Pero didn’t mind silence, it was much better than the bellyaching he’d expected, but the more they rode together, the more curious he got as to why she was acting like a mute. Surely she had something on her mind.
“Planning out your wedding?” he guessed out loud.
She craned her neck to put her eyes on him and her eyebrows knitted together, like it displeased her that he had asked, but she was polite when she answered. “No.”
“Thinking of your family?”
She barked a laugh at that question. “I should not. They certainly will never think of me again.”
“Your father seemed to care,” Pero said pointedly.
She snorted, not very lady like. “Seemed. Trust me. He was the most anxious to be rid of me.”
“Last to leave the nest?” Pero inquired.
“How many twenty-nine year olds do you know who are maidens?” she asked.
He thought about it for a moment. “None that weren’t outcasts.”
Outcasts who were disfigured or otherwise deemed not fit for society for one reason or another. This woman was definitely not one of those women.
“Exactly,” she said. “I’m not a maiden; I’m a widow.”
“Oh.” He instantly regretted digging. “Sorry.”
“I’m not,” she told him without hesitation. “It was an arranged marriage. My husband was nearly twice my age and a bastard through and through. I was overjoyed when he was killed in battle. Finally free of him after twelve ridiculously long years.”
Twelve years. That would’ve made her seventeen at the time she’d been forced to marry her first husband. Pero’s jaw twitched. He wasn’t the best example of a man, but he had never stooped to bedding down with a teenager. He knew it wasn’t an uncommon practice in many villages, but he’d grown up in one that detested older men preying on young ladies who were hardly mature yet. He couldn’t comprehend how any father would want that for his daughter. It was a good thing they were over an hour away from the tavern or he may have turned back to give her sorry excuse of a father a piece of his mind...or his fists.
“Is this marriage arranged too?” he questioned instead, not sure he wanted the answer, but wanting to know anyway for some reason.
“It is,” she replied. “I met him once. He’s more my age and seems nice enough, but we lied to him, so I have no idea if that will stick.”
“What do you mean, lied?”
“You sure are nosy for a mercenary,” she quipped. “But I suppose it would be somewhat of a relief to spill my transgression to someone.” She sighed heavily and stared at a snow-capped mountain in the distance. “The man I’m marrying wants children. He was concerned that I had never bore any for my first husband. My father lied to him and said that the three children we’d had all died from a tragic disease two years ago. He made me go along with it, saying my options were too limited not to and he wasn’t going to keep me through the winter. I’d have to lie or live on the streets, maybe work in a whore house. He said I’d be perfect for it.” She chewed her bottom lip, and Pero could see moisture filling her eyes.
“Your father is a bastard,” he declared firmly.
She turned her head to flash him a small smile. “That he is. But he was right. A barren lady is a whore house owner’s dream.”
She clucked at her horse so the mare broke out into a trot, clearly no longer wanting to take part in their conversation. Pero let her put distance between them, respecting that she wanted to be alone, but he made sure she was in sight at all times as he scanned for danger. Bandits, wolves, enemy soldiers. It was early morning, so man and animal alike weren’t likely to be traveling this particular path, but it didn’t hurt to keep an eye out.
It also kept him from thinking too much about his conversation with the woman in his charge. He’d barely known anything about her less than two hours ago and then the next thing he knew he’d known too much. It was his own fault.
Lesson learned.
x
Traversing The Great Mountains was tedious on the best days and a nightmare on the worst days. The weather always was the biggest factor. On the sunny, dry days, the worst thing that could happen was one of the horses could take a misstep and lose their footing for a split second on a narrow trail, pumping their rider with a shot of adrenaline, but usually not dooming them. The rainy or snowy days were much more frightening. Pero had seen some of the mountain paths give out under horse and rider before, plummeting them to their deaths. He’d also heard of avalanches burying them prematurely on occasion, those few riders who were reckless enough to traverse them in the winter and early spring.
Safe to say Pero avoided the narrow paths on the rainy days, even if they ended up covering less ground in a day because of it.
Outside of the weather, the beginning of Pero’s journey with the rich man’s daughter was surprising calm and predictable.
They spent their days on the trail in peace, nothing but the sound of birds and their horses’ hooves clopping along. Pero only spoke to her if he needed her to direct her horse to a specific spot and she only spoke to him if she needed a break to stretch her legs. Every time she did, he had to help her down, hands under her arms.
They were usually able to stop at a village to rest at night, either in an inn or a private home when someone offered their hospitality to them. It wasn’t common, not with the scar over Pero’s left eye and his grumpy demeanor. The times they were allowed beds in a private home his charge had turned up her charm to convince them.
She’d turned out to be a tough lady. Sitting hours side saddle without complaint, ignoring the flies, enduring the rain. She hadn’t even complained when they’d had to set up camp in the forest, those few nights they weren’t close to a village. Sleeping on the hard ground with nothing to cushion her body.
It was Pero who suggested a week into the trip for her to trade in her dresses to buy a set of feminine riding pants and a couple blouses with vests. He also suggested trading in the side saddle for a normal one, telling her it was better for her to sacrifice some of her femininity in the wilderness than her life. Riding side saddle was dangerous, especially in the mountains.
She did not hesitate, seemingly having thought about making the exchange from the start of her ride, but feeling the need to be proper. She’d needed to be given the okay. It was a strange realization for Pero. Everything about her otherwise screamed independent. She’d been forced into marriage and was about to be forced into a second, but he didn’t get the vibe that she usually was one to ask permission to do anything, which must’ve drove her late husband mad.
Maybe Pero was just making assumptions again, for the wrong reasons. He liked strong minded women, and the more days he spent at her side, the more he felt something for his charge. He was attracted to her. Not just to her beauty, but also her will, her inner strength, and her pose.
By their third week on the trail together, it was eating at him. Especially because she’d finally started talking to him again the last few days, telling him about her childhood with her eight other siblings and asking about his adventures as a mercenary. He answered all her questions as honestly as he could, avoiding any talk of the monsters he’d faced in China. The ones that still haunted his dreams some nights. She’d just think he was crazy.
It wasn’t until the fourth week that something happened to shake their world, to remind them both of the dangers of their reality.
He’d left her with the horses at a post in front of a village store, in the middle of broad daylight, to quickly buy a new girth to replace the worn one on his saddle.
When he’d returned, he was just in time to see his charge get pulled off her mount, kicking and screaming, by three very large men. He gritted his teeth at the sight and unsheathed his sword.
“Let her go!” he commanded.
The men had her on her knees in the mud. One was in the middle of trying to tie her hands behind her back. Fury flared in Pero’s chest at the sight. “Now!”
The men pulled their own swords. “This woman yours, mercenary?” one asked.
Pero shook his head. “No, but she’s under my watch. So back off.”
“We can’t offer you a better deal?” the second inquired. “Such a pretty little thing.” He caressed her right cheek and she flinched away. Pero hated seeing her so afraid.
“You’re quite brash, trying to steal a woman on main, and then making a counter offer when you are threatened for it,” he growled.
“This is our town,” the third, who’d finished binding her hands together, declared. “No one confronts us when we take a woman. We return them, after all. Well, most of them anyway. The ones worth returning.”
The implications of his words made Pero’s skin crawl. He thought the monsters in his dreams were bad. How could any village allow this? Why would anyone stay?
“I don’t make deals with rapists,” Pero told them.
“Too bad,” the second said.
The next thing he knew, the three men were upon him, swords flailing about. They were clearly inexperienced swordsman, and he had armor on, unlike them.
Catching their blades on his own, blocking them, Pero smirked and got to work.
If he ever told the story in the future, he’d play up the fight, make it tense, say that the three men nearly got him, they were that good, but the truth was he wiped the floor with them without a sweat because they were downright awful at it compared to him.
In less than a minute all three of their bodies were laying at his feet.
Without a second glance at them, Pero slid his bloodied sword back into its sheath and marched over to his charge’s side, kneeling at her back to untie her hands.
“Are you okay?” he inquired as she began rubbing her freed wrists.
She nodded at him quickly, and stood, tears of relief forming in her eyes. Without warning she threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. “You saved me.”
“Kind of part of my task,” he said, awkwardly patting her back. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Like she hadn’t heard him, she pulled away, eyes studying his, then pitched forward to plant a kiss on his lips.
Her mouth was so warm and delicate and inviting that for a moment, he lost all sense, deepening the kiss with a groan.
How many times had he daydreamed about how it would be like to kiss her? Countless. But the real deal was even better.
It was only when they had to part for air that his senses returned to him. “We need to get out of here,” he repeated.
He boosted her up into her saddle and climbed into his own, encouraging his stallion into a canter. Her mare followed.
They were quiet for a while after, as they returned to the general safety of the forest on the bright, sunny day. Pero was ready to pretend like the kiss never happened, to just keep going, there was really no need to say anything about it, but his charge was not having it.
“I don’t regret it,” she told him. “You are the best man I’ve ever known.”
“You only feel that way cause I saved your life,” he refuted.
She scoffed. “I’ve liked you long before today. You’re a little rough on the edges, and you’re far from unfamiliar with violence, but you are a good man. You’ve been nothing but thoughtful and patient with me since this trip began.”
“Nothing can come of it,” Pero told her. “I am being paid to bring you to your future husband and I will not touch a woman promised to another man.”
It was a lame excuse, not the truth. He did not hold arranged marriages anywhere near the same standards as a genuine engagement. But she couldn’t be with him. He was a mercenary and she was too sweet for his lifestyle. He could not give her the life she deserved and she would not survive his world. She’d have a better chance with her new husband. She said he’d been nice.
She deserved a chance at nice.
xxx
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omg your aneurysm ask gave me life i love seeing fushimi suffer and people being all fussy over him uwu so let's say he's recovering from the aneurysm, still very weak and frustrated he's being useless bc he can't work (he doesn't care he almost died tbh), and munakata and yata start fighting over who's gonna take care of him and the doctor gets fed up and seri ends up being the one in charge of him *w*
Awashima just stepping in between Yata and Munakata like okay if you two can't agree I'm taking over XD So imagine Fushimi's recovering from an aneurysm, he's still weak in the aftermath and he's supposed to take things very easy until he gets his strength back. This being the case someone needs to keep an eye on him as much as possible, Fushimi being so frustrated with his situation that he keeps trying to sneak out of bed even though he can barely walk and he could easily hurt himself worse if he doesn't follow the doctor's orders. Naturally Munakata is more than happy to become Fushimi's nurse for the time being, he can do his work while watching Fushimi-kun and they can have some time alone.
He's already planning out the proper recovery schedule for Fushimi when Yata shows up at Scepter 4 headquarters, wanting to check on Saruhiko. He figures someone will need to watch Fushimi while he recovers and Yata doesn't have a lot of stuff to do so maybe he could help, and get a little time to actually talk with Saruhiko and start to understand him more and all that. Munakata understands Yata's reasoning and while he finds it admirable that Yata would make such an offer there is no need for it, as Munakata will be handling Fushimi's care going forward. Yata's all suspicious like don't you have a job, you guys worked Saruhiko so much he got sick someone else needs to watch him. Munakata doubts Yata has the ability to properly deal with Fushimi's situation and Yata's like oh yeah well you can deal with my fists King or no King I don't trust you guys to watch Saruhiko anymore.
The two of them are arguing back and forth (well mostly Yata loudly arguing and Munakata being somewhat condescending towards him in a way that's pissing Yata off even more) when Awashima shows up wondering what all the noise is, this is a workplace. Munakata adjusts his glasses and apologizes, he was about to go see Fushimi-kun. Awashima coldly notes that he has work to do and should be focused on that, Munakata wilts slightly as Yata grins like yeah go do your work asshole. Awashima's immediately like 'Homra's Yata Misaki' and Yata gulps, feeling oddly like his mom just called him by his full name. Awashima says they appreciate his willingness to help, however his presence here is too disruptive and she cannot allow him to do more than visit. Yata manages to stammer out 'what about Saruhiko though...?' and Awashima assures him that Fushimi-kun's well being will be taken care of.
Some time later cue Awashima walking into Fushimi's room with some soup and blankets as she says she's come to watch him for the day. Fushimi clicks his tongue and wonders how she ended up with this, he almost expected Munakata to show up. Awashima coolly notes that there was some fuss over who would be watching him, smiling gently as she reminds him that many people are interested in his well being and supporting his recovery. Fushimi's like 'is that so...', looking a bit gloomy, and Awashima puts a hand on his shoulder as she tells him to take it easy so he can get his strength back. She leaves the soup there for him now and says she'll be back shortly to be sure he's eaten it and also if he tries to get up again she will tie him to the bed, Fushimi manages a 'yes, ma'am' as he realizes that Munakata or Yata might have been the better option after all.
#Fushimi Saruhiko#Awashima Seri#Talking K#unfortunately for Saru Awashima won't take any of his shit#she's a very mercenary nursemaid#like she obviously cares but also she will not take any backtalk he needs to sleep and get better#even Munakata and Yata are brought in line#imagine Yata going back to Bar Homra and telling Kusanagi what happened#Kusanagi laughs like don't worry Seri-chan can handle this sort of thing better than anyone
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Sparring Session (Kenna x Dom)
Summary: Queen Kenna and King Dominic of the Five Kingdoms take a trip down memory lane.
Author’s note: The Crown & The Flame is my favorite Choices series ever, and I’m weak for the “friends to lovers” trope and I’ve always wanted a spin-off of Kenna and Dom. I’ve been sketching this fanfic for almost two years and have finally been able to write it all out, thanks to Blades finale. The nostalgia hit hard. Anyway, I don’t know if anyone will read this, if there still are die hard fans of TC&TF like me here, but I’m so glad I was able to write this. My masterlist
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kenna x Dom
Word count: +5.5K
________________________________________
The boy swung his small sword bravely.
“Come on, fight me! Or are you too afraid?” - nine-years-old Crown Prince Gabriel Arthur Rys of Stormholt shouted defiantly at his father as they squared off on the hillside just outside the Stormholt castle’s gate.
King Dominic burst out in laughter.
“Watch your mouth, kid, when I was your age I used to beat every kid, whether they were the castle staff’s or villagers’ kids.”
“You? I thought it was mother.” - Prince Arden Leon, second son, seven-years-old, asked, interrupting his reading, with a confused expression on his face, from where he was with his younger sister, four-years-old Princess Marcella Idara.
“This is what the history books want you to believe, but not everything that's written in it is true. I was better than your mom.”
“Is that so?” - they heard a voice coming from the gates.
A heavily pregnant Kenna stepped outside the castle’s ground to the hill. Her loyal friend and Crown Guardian Will Jackson accompanied her, making sure that the queen wouldn’t trip on her condition.
“Mother!” - the kids sprinted towards her, instantly forgetting the argument. Dom couldn’t hold back a smile as he watched his loving and growing family.
“Your Highnesses, be careful with the Queen and the baby!” - Jackson tried to lecture the royal children but it was useless, none of them heard him as they elbowed each other to hug Kenna tightly. They were always excited to see their beloved mother.
“Alright, alright, give your mom some space!” - the king approached them with calm steps, and friendly patted the royal guard on the back. The kids groaned in frustration but they stopped fussing over her. - “How was the meeting with the Tree Lady?”
“Dom! I’ve told you to stop calling Queen Rowan like this. Especially in front of the kids.” - she lectured her husband in a whisper, but with a smile on her lips.
"Come on, your highnesses, it's time to bathe." - Will said as he motioned to someone inside the gates. A couple of nursemaids came rushing out.
"But we still haven't finished our duel!" - Prince Gabriel whined, raising his sword to the air to show his discontentment.
"Tomorrow you can spar some more. But for now you must clean yourselves up to get ready for dinner." - Kenna said firmly. - "We have some guests tonight."
"Who?" - Princess Marcella asked, taking the hand of one of the maids.
"Well, Queen Rowan is staying for dinner and--"
"Of course there's me too!" - they heard a voice coming from a few feet away, they all turning to see who it was. - "You better not think I would miss a damn fancy dinner."
"Val!!!!" - the three kids exclaimed in excitement, running down the hill to meet with the ex-mercenary, now Stormholt's Master-at-Arms.
"Oof! You kids are getting big, aren't ya?" - she smiled adoringly at them, messing with Princess Marcella's hair as the little girl hugged her tightly. - "I even brought a little present!" - she pointed to the keg in one of her shoulders. - "Since Kenna here can't drink, you're immediately obliged to drink her part, Jackson. You know, as her personal guard. I even put your name here."
Will rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. He knew Val too well to know that there was no escape from his destiny and the horrible hangover he would have the next day.
Val clasped hands with Dominic as she approached the royal couple.
"Oh, were you sparring?" - she asked as she saw Gabriel proudly holding his sword.
"More talking, actually. Gabriel and Father wouldn't shut up about who is the 'best warrior of all Five Kingdoms', blah blah blah." - Arden rolled his eyes, making Marcella and Val laugh.
“Oh right! Mother, who's the best warrior? You or Father?" - Gabriel asked as they all headed toward the castle. Kenna smirked.
"Well, I'm not known as the 'Warrior Queen' for nothing. And I remember beating your father frequently as we grew up."
"I guess the pregnancy is making you delirious, my Queen.” - Dominic smiled back at his wife, who was holding his arm to balance herself as they climbed the castle front stairs.
“And I think Gabriel hit you in the head with his toy sword too many times, my King.” - the two boys giggled to their parents playful banter, before the royal kids were escorted to bathe.
"I'm not a big fan of kids, but those three are too damn adorable." - Val said as the adults headed to the dinner room.
"Of course, we made them!" - Dom puffed his chest proudly, looking at the corridor where their kids disappeared into with the maids.
The eldest, Gabriel Arthur, was the perfect mixture of his parents, bright blue eyes and a dark brown hair. He pretty much had a bit of problem sitting through the royal classes, and preferred staying outside, sparring with his friends, much like his mother. But he was a goofy at heart, just like his father, and would prank one of the nobles in every Kenna's coronation anniversary.
Arden Leon looked like his mother, physically-wise, with his dark brown hair and clever brown eyes. He preferred spending his time reading and even accompanying his mother on her endless strategic and political reunions than training for combat. Dominic was pretty sure the young boy was much more intelligent than him.
Princess Marcella Idara still was too young, her personality still building up, but she was very smart - she said her first words when she was just 10 months old! - and was very attached to her brothers - she would always throw a tantrum if she got separated from her the boys -, especially Arden. And she adored Val. She looked the most with Dominic of the three, with lighter hair and blue eyes.
It had passed 10 years since they had defeated Empress Azura and now Dominic Hunter was Stormholt’s king, married to his childhood sweetheart Kenna and they had two sons with opposite personalities, a feisty little girl and another kid on the way.
Not bad for an orphan stable boy, huh?
“Hey, what’s going on inside this pretty head of yours?” - Kenna asked later that night, at their chambers, as they prepared themselves to sleep.
"Oh, am I pretty now?"
"Typical. You just hear what you want. And yes, you've never not been pretty, Dom." - she smiled adoringly to him as they both laid down their bed.
She watched the goofiest smile spreading on her husband's face and he snooped closer, kissing her on the lips.
"Just thinking about the amazing kids we have."
"Well, they have an amazing father." - Kenna frowned. - "I'm sorry I can't be around much to help you take care of them. I wish I could, but--"
"Hey, hey. I've told you this before, Kenna. Don't worry. It's impossible to take care of both Five Kingdoms and of our children. We're lucky to have you as our Queen. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't be able to handle all this political thing." - although Dominic was crowned as King, it was just a formal title. Kenna was the only one who ruled and, truth be told, he gladly took his part as just a consort. He much preferred taking care of the kids rather than discussing politics with other rulers, even though they were all allies.
"It's been a while since you've gone to the Blackspine Mountains, hasn't it?" - she asked.
"Yeah, I guess it's been almost a year?" - Dom was the official Ambassador of the Blackspines too, and would often travel there, both for training and to strengthen their political alliances. - "But don't worry, Kenna. It's a good thing that Sei get down of those mountains and come visit us for a change. Although she's not very fond of kids." - he chuckled to himself as he remembered the last words his good friend had told him the last time he was there. "I know you adore those little creatures, Dominic, but you should let poor Queen Kenna rest before making more of them. She has the Five Kingdoms to look after."
"You're right." - the queen smiled softly. - "It's just that I know how you enjoyed going there, but since Marcella was born, you have barely been there." - three kids started being a bit harder for Kenna to look after alone, even with all the castle staff. Both the queen and the king wanted to be close to their children, since Kenna had lost her father when she was around Marcella's age and her mother was too occupied ruling Stormholt and Dom had never known his parents.
"I enjoy being here with you and the kids much more. Although I am from the Blackspine people, Stormholt is and has always been my home and my heart." - he cupped her face, gazing into her eyes.
Kenna smiled back at him, warmth spreading through her chest.
"How is it possible? It's been almost thirty years since I've known you, Dominic Hunter, and you still make my heart float." - Dom laughed loudly before kissing her forehead. - "You know, I still remember the first time we talked to each other."
"Oh?" - he cocked up an eyebrow, his light eyes shining curiously. - "And was it love at first sight?"
"Dom. We were eight."
"And? I saw you for the first time when we were around six and I knew right away that I would marry you. Even though I was a stable boy and you were the princess. I still remember it vividly. You came into the stables with the Queen and Gabriel, of course, to meet your very first horse, a present from the King of Fydoria himself to the young Heiress Princess of Stormholt. Which turned out to be a pony. And you became less that pleased with it. 'Why is this horse so small?', you asked. 'It's a pony, my little butterfly', Queen Adriana explained, 'it's a specimen of horses. Do you like it?'. In which you answered, your scowl turning into a smile, 'well, maybe him being small can be handy in a battle! It'll be more difficult for the enemies to catch, right?' and in that exact moment you've captured my heart forever."
"Oh, shush." - Kenna laughed to that memory. Starfury became a good company of her and still was alive, retired and enjoying his final years eating all apples he deserved.
"Anyway, you were going to tell me about our first encounter? I want to hear this story from your point of view."
"Right." - she smiled as memories flooded their minds.
________________________________________
The little girl perched against the window, watching the castle grounds. She watched a group of kids - villagers’ and palace staff’s sons and daughters - playing, running around, giggling.
She had just finished her classes for the day. Maybe she could sneak out real quick before a maid came in to get her ready for dinner...
“Princess Kenna!”
The little princess stopped on her tracks and turned around to see Gabriel marching toward her, a severe expression on his face.
"Hello, Gabriel!" - she flashed him her best 'diplomatic smile' (she had learned of it during her decorum classes), turning around and hiding her toy sword behind her back, as the guards closed the front doors of the castle. Dammit, it took her almost ten minutes of convincing them to open it.
"Where do you think you're going? It's almost dinner time. You should be getting yourself ready."
"I know… but I just wanted to go outside just for a little bit. The other kids seem to be having so much fun and I wanted to join in."
She saw the old man frowning. He dropped to his knees to be at the same height as her.
"My princess, you know you can't play with them. If you want to spar with someone, you can always call me, okay?"
"Okay…" - Kenna sighed.
She still couldn’t quite understand why she couldn’t play outside with the other kids. She wanted to have friends who were the same age as her. Gabriel, her bodyguard and paternal figure, was a great playmate, but… well, he was old. Although he had started training her with the sword recently - against her mother wishes -, he didn’t have the energy and stamina to keep playing with the little princess for long.
"Now, you must get ready for dinner. But I think we can fit a spar session into your agenda tomorrow." - he winked at her and the girl hugged him fiercely.
She loved sparring. Although her mother wasn't very keen of it. Everyone said that Kenna took it from her father.
She wasn’t older than four when King Marcel was killed in a battle against the Five Kingdoms oldest enemy, the Iron Empire, and the crown immediately fell onto his wife Adriana.
But Kenna could clearly remember that he would let her play with his favorite sword. The king also was the one who gave that toy sword she always carried with her wherever she went.
But then, on the next day of that little exchange, Princess Kenna managed to sneak out the castle without being spotted by Gabriel and go down the hill where the other kids were playing as usual.
"Hey!" - she waved with her sword, trotting at them.
“Oh my Gods, it’s the princess!” - one of the village girls squealed. All the kids immediately stopped playing and bowed to her.
“Can I play with you?” - Kenna asked, ignoring the reverence. The kids exchanged warily looks; their parents always told them that nobles and commoners didn’t mix and that the little Princess wasn’t their equal, although she seemed to talk to them as if she was one of them.
Kenna saw another kid making their way to the small group, until he was standing up in front of her. The boy was around her age, although he was a head taller; he had a light pale brown hair and his big blue eyes stared down at her.
“We are not playing. We are dueling.” - he stated, pompously, a smirk on his lips. Kenna just rolled her eyes.
“Okay, can I duel with you, then?”
The other kids gasped in shock. The princess was challenging Dominic Hunter, the best fighter of all Stormholt!
“As you wish, Your Highness.” - he said mockingly. He snorted; that little girl would never be able to win.
But as soon as he said this, one of the girls dragged him a few feet away from the rest of the group as Kenna prepared herself for the duel.
“Dom, are you crazy?!” - Rose Blake shouted. - “You can’t fight with the princess! If one of the adults find out about this, you could…!” - she gasped, her eyes widening in horror. - “They could throw you at the dungeons!”
“Relax, Rosie.” - the boy answered calmingly. - “I won’t hurt her or whatever. Plus, she’s the Princess. Who am I to deny anything to her?”
The two of them returned to the group. Kenna puffed her chest, looking defiantly at here adversary, raising her sword. The other kids took a few steps back, standing in a circle around the young princess and Dominic.
Staring each other down, they squared one another, their swords in hand.
"Raaah!" - the stableboy was the first to attack, but the princess graciously dodged him and prepared for her own attack.
But the boy was more than used to spar, and recovered just in time before Kenna's swords could hit him, their blades tangling together.
Their audience cheered upon them, divided between the stable boy and the princess.
"I have to admit, you're pretty good, Princess."
"Thanks. This is what happens when you practice with real warriors." - she smirked mockingly at him and then, with a quick movement, she hit his side with her toy sword.
"Oh my Gods!" - they heard someone nearby gasp. Dominic Hunter, the greatest warrior of Stormholt, had been defeated by Princess Kenna Rys herself!
"Noooooo!" - the boy cried, throwing his sword to the air and falling dramatically to the floor.
"Ha! This is what you get for underestimating me." - the girl raised her own sword triumphantly as the kids around them applauded and bowed to the newest greatest warrior of Stormholt. - "I shall be known as the 'Warrior Princess' from now on!" - still giggling, Kenna kneeled and offered a hand to Dominic. He clasped it and she pulled him up. - "This was a good duel, Sir Dominic."
"I'll be looking for a rematch, Your Highness." - he bowed to her and they shared smiles as a genuine and beautiful friendship started blossoming between them.
________________________________________
“And after that outstanding victory from my part, we became inseparable.” - Kenna concluded, smiling fondly as the memories that filled her mind.
Whenever the two friends had a break from their duties, they would both go down the hill and spar with each other. Gabriel knew that the growing bond between the young princess and that orphan boy would be a problem in the future, but he also was aware that Dominic was the only friend Kenna truly had that was the same age as her. Plus, he knew the young boy would do anything to protect the princess. It was all written in his face.
“I still can’t believe you threatened to have Caleb executed.” - Dom laughed to another memory.
“Of course! He was tormenting you. Good thing my mother never knew about this. She would have lectured me for abuse of power.” - they shared a chuckle.
Two years later, Kenna found herself finally free from her political studies, and walked around the castle grounds looking for her friend. She was almost giving up when she found Dom's sword on the grass near the stable. As she approached it, she heard voices coming from inside there. There was yelling and lots of swearing, one of the voices belonging to Dominic.
Not thinking twice, the princess rushed into the stable, where she found two boys rolling on the floor, punching, kicking and calling each other names.
“Stop. Stop this immediately!” - both boys stopped at the same moment she yelled at them and saw Princess Kenna herself walking towards them with firm steps and a furrowed expression on her face. - “What’s happening here?”
"Nothing, Your Highness." - Caleb, one of the guard's son, said, immediately letting go of Dom's shirt. He briefly bowed his head to her before turning around and sprinting out of the stable.
Kenna looked at her friend on the floor. Dominic was already sat up and desperately rubbed the tears off his eyes, his cheeks red with anger and in embarrassment. He didn't want anyone seeing him cry. Especially her.
"What happened, Dom?" - the princess asked, her voice sounding much calmer, as she kneeled beside him.
"...Nothing." - he turned his face away.
"It doesn't look like 'nothing'. C'mon, you know you can tell me, right? You're my friend and I'm worried about you."
After a few moments in silence, Dominic finally looked back at Kenna, who had been patiently waiting for him to tell her what happened.
"Caleb has been pestering me a lot lately. He kind of have always bugged me, but now he started calling me names just because I have no parents and no one knows where I'm really from. He called me a… ‘bad blood bastard that no one wants around’." - Kenna saw tears welling up on her friend’s eyes, and anger flooded inside the little girl's frame.
"How dare he! This is a lie, Dom, don't listen to him. You're not a bad blood and you are wanted around. I want you around. You're my best friend."
Kenna saw a smile slowly spreading on the boy's face.
"Thanks, Kenna. So you're mine. I guess Caleb's just jealous because the Princess is best friends with me and not him."
"Just ignore him, Dom." - the girl said as she pulled him up to his feet, a plan already forming in her head. She would have a 'little talk' with Caleb later. And by 'little talk', maybe it meant threaten him go be executed if he continued bullying Dom. She knew she couldn't do it in fact, just the Queen could order something like that, but the others didn't need to know it. She was the princess after all, there must be some advantage about it, right? - "So, are you ready for our sparring session?"
Dominic grinned.
"Be ready to eat some dirt today, Princess. I'm not going easy on you just because you were nice to me just now."
Kenna smiled. She wouldn't have it any other way.
"And I won't go easy on you either."
________________________________________
“And after this, whenever Caleb saw you, he would run to the opposite direction. And no one ever called me names again.” - Dom chuckled, Kenna’s head resting on his shoulder.
“As they shouldn’t.”
“And we became the best of friends. We told each other everything. Well, almost.”
“What do you mean?” - the Queen pulled out just enough to look into her husband’s face, Dominic’s blue eyes shining as he stared into her dark eyes.
“My feelings for you changed a little and became stronger.” - Dominic kind of always knew he loved Kenna. Since that day when she beat him for the first time. She was brave, stubborn and fought her own fights. Yet, she still was kind to everyone and just, not taking advantage of her higher status. She was the noblest person he has ever met. - “I knew I loved you more than a friend, Kenna, but I of course wouldn’t tell you anything. Especially with Gabriel watching you like a hawk.”
“Poor Gabriel was just doing his job. But you’re right, I know how especially hard he was with you. He indeed confessed to me that he didn’t like you much.”
“Oh, really?” - Dom asked, sarcastically. - “I didn't have noticed!”
As they grew up, Kenna’s and Dom’s relationship strengthened (to Gabriel’s growing discontent) and they started sneaking up from their duties (Kenna from her political classes and Dom from his work as a stable boy) to spar a little. They would try to do it daily as a form of training and also of spending time together.
As they both entered adolescence, the two teenagers remained as the best of friends and also became each other’s confidants (although Kenna had Gabriel, it wasn’t the same thing. He was an adult and she needed to rant about adults and her royal duties to someone of her own age), but other feelings started to blossom as well...
Dom would have to be blind to not notice how Kenna grew up into a fine young lady, curves slowly taking place on her once flat childish body. He thought about her natural red and full lips more frequently than he should, and how soft they should be and what was their taste.
It wasn't different to Kenna. Of course she noted that Dom somehow got bigger, with broad shoulders and bigger hands. She caught herself a few too many times staring in awe at her friend's bare chest as he worked in the stable, from the castle windows, immediately flushing as she realized what she was doing and cursing herself for it.
She obviously knew that Dominic was rather popular within the maids of the castle. He had quite a reputation. She caught a couple times the young maids gossiping and giggling about him.
But she also knew that what she and Dom shared was special, although neither of them tried to overstep it. It was complicated. She was a princess. He was a stableboy. They both were fully aware that they didn't belong together. Kenna was tired of hearing Gabriel's warnings about her close friendship with Dominic.
Of course her loyal and personal bodyguard had noticed the way the princess grinned whenever she saw that boy, as well as how Dom always had a big doofus smirk on his face after talking to her.
And Kenna knew that Gabriel was right. And she indeed tried to ignore her feelings towards Dominic. But then, one day, her mother told her about the plans of her marriage. She had barely turned eighteen and Queen Adriana was already setting up a political marriage between her and the son of some neighbor kingdom.
The princess knew it would happen sooner and later… she just wasn't expecting it to be so soon. She would never be able to marry Dominic. The one she ever loved and wanted.
That night, she cried at the expectation of having to marry anyone but Dom. Gabriel was there for her and was very emphatic that she couldn't have him.
"You know your mother would never allow it, Your Highness."
"Yes, just because he's not a 'match'. But I love him, Gabriel." - she murmured, hiding her face in one of her pillows.
"I know. But who's he? He's a stable boy with no name. We don't even know from where he's came from."
"I don't care about where he's from, I don't care that he's an orphan, I don't care about any of this. I care about him. I love him just as he is, with name or no name."
"I know, I know… but you're a princess, Kenna. You know you can't. You must put the crown before your heart."
Kenna nodded, her eyes red and puffy from all that crying.
"Yes... I know. You're right." - Gabriel squeezed her shoulder gently. - "...But I love him so much."
"It must feel hard now… but you're still young. You'll see that not everything lasts forever, especially first loves." - he stood up. - "I shall leave you now, Princess. You should rest. Try not to think much about this, okay? You still have time before the Queen decides to put up a wedding. At least three years."
She nodded and the bodyguard left her chambers.
________________________________________
“And on that same night Beltane Festival was happening. And I wished, just for one moment, to not be a princess anymore, and enjoy the festivities like an ordinary girl. And then you found me there.”
“Oh, I clearly remember what happened.” - Dominic smirked, making Kenna blush slightly.
They both would never forget the first kiss they shared at Beltane Festival. When the princess asked for it as her wish.
After it, they spent the whole night with each other’s company, joking and eating. They even danced together and they both smiled the whole time, feeling truly happy and lucky to be in each other arms. Dominic accompanied the princess back to the castle as a good gentleman.
"Well, we must part our ways, mylady." - he bowed with a flourish, making Kenna chuckle.
"Thank you, kind sir." - she bowed in response. - "Good night, Dom. Thank you for spending the whole festival with me." - she smiled gracefully and the young man had to hold himself to not kiss her. Again.
"I hope you had all your wishes fulfilled."
"Yes, I had." - but before she could sneak back into her chambers, Dom delicately took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. Kenna's face flushed immediately.
"Good night, Kenna." - he winked at her and she retreated to her bedroom, a giant grin on her face.
He walked down the castle hallways, whistling a happy song, until he finally stopped and turned around.
"I know you're here, Gabriel."
The older man's figure stepped out from one of the alcoves.
"Very perceptive, Dominic."
The young man sighed, readying himself for the lecture.
"C'mon, Gabriel, lay it all on me. I know what you're going to say."
"If you know what I am going to tell you, then why do you do this? You know how much you mean to her."
"She means everything to me too."
"Please, Dominic, spare me from this. I've seen you with the young maids. It's best if you keep on just being a good and loyal friend to the Princess and marry some village girl."
"But I don't want to marry anyone but Kenna." - he stated stubbornly. - "I've never loved anyone but her. I can separate my heart from the fun."
"And do you think you're a match to Her Highness? She's the Princess and she'll be your Queen someday, not your wife, boy. Just take this idea out of your mind before you get too hurt. Queen Adriana hopes that the Princess will be finally settled in three years. Actually, Her Majesty has already picked a strong political match to be Kenna's husband. Their marriage would bring the most powerful of the alliances within the Five Kingdoms."
Dominic really didn't want to know who Gabriel was talking about, but… well, he got curious.
"Who?" - he grudgingly asked.
"King Luther's eldest son, Prince Diavolos Nevrakis."
"What?! The Queen expects Kenna to marry the son of the man who killed King Marcel? That's insane."
"No, this is politics. And Kenna will understand. It'll finally bring peace to the whole kingdom."
"I know Kenna. She won't marry a Nevrakis."
"Her Highness still is young, but she'll understand eventually. It's her duty."
"Kenna should marry whoever she wants. Especially the one she loves."
"Dominic, please. Don't be so immature. You know the Princess can't have this. And you know that the Princess is far superior than you."
Of course he knew. He had always known it. But hearing it out loud hurt his ego.
"Ouch, Gabriel! No need to be so mean!" - he joked, turning around to resume his walking.
"If this is what I have to do to make you forget about Kenna, then I must be mean. Give up on her, Dominic.”
________________________________________
“...To think that Diavolos would become an ally. Things are just crazy. But I guess it’s better him than Zenobia.”
“Thank the Gods it’s him who’s the Iron Empire ruler and didn’t follow his father’s steps.” - Kenna agreed. King Diavolos was one of her most precious allies. Surprisingly, they got along well and shared great respect and admiration towards one another.
“The Gods have nothing to do with it, Kenna. It was all on you. You know he got interested in you, right?”
“Diavolos? Nonsense.”
“It’s not. I bet that, when he met you, he wasn’t only interested in conquering Stormholt, but conquering you too.” - Kenna scoffed to that absurd idea. - “You just haven't realized it because he never flirted with you, unlike Tevan, Raydan, Annelyse…”
“Either way, flirting or not, I’ve never corresponded to any of them.” - Kenna interrupted Dominic, feeling a bit embarrassed by that list of her admirers. - “We were at war and I’ve only had eyes for you, Dominic Hunter.”
“Yes, I know.” - he smirked, squeezing the embrace around her waist. - “It’s always been you too, Kenna.”
“And even though we have known and loved each other since practically forever, it took years until we finally got together.”
“Well, a lot of crazy things happened. You became the exiled princess and I found out about my powers…”
“And after two years apart, the first thing we did was spar with each other.” - she chuckled to herself as memories flowed to her mind once more. - "At that same spot down the hill, where the kids were playing today."
“Oh, we have such different memories of that day. I remember it involved lots of kissing and what came afterwards. That was the first time we made love, right?” - Dom said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. His wife punched him in the arm, giggling, before frowning.
“And then we made a promise to never be apart again…. but we got separated a few more times… you went to the Blackspine Mountains with Sei to master your fire user power… and then you got kidnapped by Hex.”
“Yeah, not my finest moment.” - he pulled her even closer. - “But then you saved me from that horribly mind control maze thing and we finally got together. Oh, and then you had to fight Azura. And then Luther. And then, finally, you asked me to marry you.”
“Well, as the queen I thought it was proper.”
“To be honest, I’m glad it was you who asked for my hand. Is not everyday that the Warrior Queen herself asks you to marry her.”
Kenna’s grin widened and she leaned in, kissing his lips softly.
“And I would do that again in a heartbeat. I loved none but you, Dom. You’re my best friend and the one who knows me most. I can be my true self when I’m with you.”
“And I wouldn’t expect anything else.” - he smiled adoringly to her, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. - “And then you got pregnant of Gabriel on our wedding night. And we’ve been making babies like rabbits since then.”
“Dom!” - Kenna tried to lecture him, but she was laughing way too much to sound grossed out or embarrassed. - “And this one will be the last one.” - she caressed her protuberant stomach.
“Right…” - Dominic didn't sound convinced.
“I swear. I think I won’t be able to handle another pregnancy.”
“Are you telling me that the great Queen of the Five Kingdoms, who defeated both King Luther Nevrakis and Empress Azura will be defeated by a baby?”
“You say this because you don’t get pregnant.”
“Okay, okay, fair.” - he raised his hands in an apology gesture. - “But you know you’re the Queen of the Five Kingdoms.” - Kenna looked confused at him. - “...so it makes sense if we have five kids, each for a kingdom. You’re not the Queen of the Four Kingdoms.”
Dominic watched his wife burst out laughing.
“Gods, this kid isn’t even born yet and you’re already talking about a fifth? You’ll have to wait, Dom. At least let this one be born first and then we can talk about having another kid.”
“Okay, I’ll wait, but you know I’ll hold you onto that.”
Kenna rolled her eyes, but Dominic could see a side smile tugging on the corner of the Queen's mouth.
"Yes, I know." - she said.
________________________________________
Tagging: @obsessed-with-humans @nia-kamilah @keviriass @nynnke @shakespeareanwannabe
#kenna rys#dominic hunter#kenna x dom#the crown and the flame#playchoices#playchoices fanfiction#playchoices fanfic#choices fanfic#choices fanfiction
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Can't remember the last time I did one of these
I mentioned maybe doing an oc reveal to celebrate 100 followers and three days ago I got to 175 followers
So here he is, my boy Tagiukiri.
Tagiukiri is the son of an Earth Kingdom general named Yi Jun and a waterbending mercenary from the Northern Water Tribe named Pakimna. Yi Jun was impressed by Pakimna's sheer brute strength and tracking abilities in spite of a near complete lack of combative training, and she had a deep appreciation for his respect and kindness toward her. As the two got to know each other more intimately, the bond grew stronger and each considered it a great love. Yi Jun made arrangements for Pakimna to be taken to his home in Omashu, were she would be cared for by servants during her pregnancy, birth, and recovery. He also offered to marry her to perserve her reputation and honor, but she declined his offer because though he'd given her many reasons to love him, and she truly did, she would be no man's wife.
She gave birth to a healthy boy and named him Tagiukiri, and when she recovered and gotten back into fighting shape, she hired a live-in nursemaid and wrote to Yi Jun that she was joining the war effort again.
Tagiukiri's parents would visit as often as they could, Yi Jun while on leave and Pakimna in between jobs. They loved him very much and though Pakimna refused to indulge him enough to spoil him, he was a happy child. Tagiukiri was always a quiet, sensitive child, much softer than most other boys, and prefered dolls to toy weapons. It warmed his parents' hearts that he hadn't inherited their view of warfare as an absolute duty, and they hoped that this innocent, peaceful son of two soldiers might be a sign of good things to come.
But it seems not all good things can last. Omashu fell to the Fire Nation and his nursemaid, who had been there for him since before he could talk and intended to escort him all the way to Ba Sing Se, sacrificed herself as a distraction so he could flee from the soldiers undetected. He had gold, and food for a three day journey, and some keepsakes, and his documents, but everything and everyone he had ever known was lost to him. His parents were off fighting, and he told every passing soldier who he was, that he was alive, and that he was seeking refuge in the walls of Ba Sing Se. It was the only form of contact he had to his parents and he could never be sure they got the message.
On the way to the impenetrable city he heard many stories over many campfires. They told of the Fire Nation's banished prince, of a boy named Jet and his Freedom Fighters, of pirates and bounty hunters and a mysterious blind girl with unimaginable abilities, and even a few of his own mother that made him swell with pride to hear of her bravery and cleverness. He learned his mother was the famed North Water Lady, the reason Fire Nation soldiers feared camping near rivers and streams and creeks, that she had a marching song about her prowess. But more than any of that, he heard that the Avatar was found, and that he was looking for the best trainers to show him how to win the War. These stories brought him hope like no others could.
By the time he reached Ba Sing Se, he parted with a few old treasures and spent the last of his money on his ferry ticket. He learned quickly that mentioning that his father was a general or saying anything about the war at all was incredibly discouraged and wouldn't grant him access to comfortable lodgings on his father's money, and so it was best to settle for the Lower Ring. He managed to find work in a laundry that doubled as a secondhand clothes shop, specifically mending clothes and assisting customers, and a shabby little room he could afford to rent with his earnings. There he kept the treasures he still owned; his old doll, a spearhead snapped off of an enemy spear and wrapped with a stone coin on a string, a family portrait, one of the bowls from home, and others.
He eventually got used to falling asleep to the sounds of misery and poverty outside his window, and to offering his condolences to those who brought their child's entire wardrobe to sell. He got used to the dampness, the pests, the ever-present slight hunger, but never to the fact that he wasn't sure his parents even knew he was still alive.
(Edit: brightened up the picture some and increased the contrast)
#atla#avatar the last airbender#atla oc#i better not get anything like *that's not real japanese*#like no shit sherlock it's inupiaq#in case you missed me being eskimo#not the name yi jun but pakimna and tagiukiri
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A Bygone Era - Chapter 1
A fictionalised account of Isabel Neville’s life from the point of view of her and those close to her.
So far told through the points of view of: Anne Beauchamp 16th Countess of Warwick.
5th September 1451
As each gust of wind veered and swooped around the pointed turrets of Warwick castle, it would not surrender its strength before first claiming a tawny leaf from the hazel trees. The emerald blush of the castle grounds: the summer green that made the tableaux of the landscape ever more poignant just a few months ago, was now fading into a browner more lifeless hue.
Having seen twenty-five summers, the countess was hardly a young lass at the cusp of womanhood. Her half-sister Margaret was six years younger than she when she bore her first child, Elizabeth even more so. Labour was harder for those years past their first flowering. The pain in her back and hips seemed to sting her everytime she drew breath, her head felt uneasy on her shoulders as the exertion of the birth seemed to have pushed all the air out of her. However, there were none to pity her or lay at her feet praising her for the beautiful daughter she had just provided - the Earl of Warwick needed a son.
Even my wretched ladies seem less eager to attend to me. Especially Martha. She thinks herself above me now, for the whelp she bore her minor knight of a husband was a boy.
‘Jesus wept’ snapped Anne ‘may I not be washed and given a morsel of food or even the child?’
A tremble hit Martha and Agnes before they bound down the castle stairs, one with a washbasin nestled under an arm and the other clutching at a gilded platter. Not since she was a little girl had Anne raised her voice beyond a ladylike drone. Those two did not know that, hence the agitation.
‘Begging your pardon milady’ said a breathless Agnes while handing her some bread and salt and Isabel, rosy and clean from the nursemaid’s scrubbing.
Anne tilted her head letting her long auburn tresses fall over into the silver washbowl that Martha brought. While the labour of childbirth was scrubbed off her, she looked at the babe before her. Isabel slowly opened her eyes with a lack of enthusiasm so uncommon to a newborn babe. They were the phantasmagorical green of the turbulent sea.
A beauty that would rally the men of the field to pick up swords and fight god himself it was not.
Though not even an hour unto this world, Isabel’s fair face had no suggestion of roundness, but was a slender oval. The small mouth had a suggestion of full lips and the thin tuft of hair on her head appeared flaxen - though Anne knew it would darken to Richard’s chestnut brown in little time.
A beauty of ice instead maybe. A Despenser, Montacute, Beauchamp and Neville fit for a king or at least a duke who would be immensely drawn to those features, so like those of a statue. Let the golden haired, sky-eyed buxom jezebels catch the eyes of peasant boys and mercenaries. My Isabel shall rouse the very rose of Plantagenet with a face that only generations of careful breeding since the age of the conquest could produce. Because with these she shows herself a daughter of Warwick - and what man would not rally behind that?
At first Anne thought she could hear the pitter-patter of raindrops, but the sound grew sharper resembling a thundercloud heralding a Warwickshire late summer storm.
As the sound of the bailey’s gravel amplified the countess’ entire body shot up so fast that she could feel a surging pain through her spine. The kingmaker had arrived.
The years have proven that the lack of a heir did nothing to dull the earl’s affections for his wife. As he leaped from his horse in one refined movement and took Anne into his arms, she once more felt like a newly wed bride greeting her betrothed outside Bisham Abbey.
She winced as he roughly pulled her into a arduous kiss marvelling at how deliciously crude this gesture was in contrast to his previous elegant one. He may be an earl but he is also a soldier, and above that a man quenching his thirst after months on dry land. And how could he not? At just a couple of inches below his height and still lithe and thin after just moments of childbirth, Anne had the elegance of a water nymph. As Richard was stroking her cheeks he could not help but gaze in awe at the bonny eyes whose colour so much resembled the burnished emerald of her ancestral land.
‘My son how fare he?’ He asked with impatient excitement ‘A strong lad is he not?’
Anne’s chest tightened as if the gusts of wind from a few hours ago were filling her lungs like saltwater would a drowning sailor’s. It is my entire fault. I should never have told him I knew I was carrying a son. All mothers share the same musings about their firstborn, they can not all be right.
‘My Lord husband’ she began adopting a more formal tone ‘It is a girl and I have decided to call her Isabel after mother’
To her relief his smile reappeared. ‘How fitting. The second Lady Isabel Neville’
Anne looked noticeably confused.
‘Ah you do not know then? Isabel de Neville was the daughter and sole heiress of the Norman Geoffrey de Neville and wife of Robert Ritzmaldred a son of the Earls of Northumbria and Etheldred II’ he grinned ‘By the time Lionheart was crowned and fighting his wars in the foreign lands of the east, no one could then gainsay the Plantagenet dynasty so Geoffrey took the Neville name as his own to sit at the high tables of the Norman nobility’
Her husband was so taken up with his tales of Saxon princes and Gospatric of Northumbria that she had to lead him through the great hall and up the winding staircase like a mother hen guiding a sleep-heavy child to its bed. I have done this before she started to remember I was nine and he seven, and we were right here on those stairs. If truth be told my mother had invited Lady Alice to introduce her son as my betrothed in guise of a St Crispin’s day luncheon invitation. By then I have perfected my curtsey and broke the nasty habit of handling my skirts, so I was finally considered worthy of social presentation. They bid me go show him all around the castle grounds and I played hostess thinking I had merely gained another playmate - though he might not have been so easily duped. To think where we are now.
In her apartments Isabel lay satisfied in her cot having just received her milk and with Margaret and the nursemaid hovering over her dotingly.
‘Ah dear wife’ proclaimed Richard ‘it seems her and Margaret would make splendid companions - she had always wanted a sister’. With one small step he picks her up and kisses her on the forehead. The little girl giggled at that, her wide smile squeezing her cornflower blue eyes in satisfied lines.
Ah yes the bastard daughter. Richard’s little indiscretion. The newborn girl that greeted me at Middleham where we first appeared as man and wife, before all our sisters, John and dear Henry- could it really have been eight years past? It feels like just yesterday I buried my dear brother.
Anne became a stone statue as Agnes was at work binding her straight auburn strands into a china blue crespine whose cauls were covered in wide copper netting to complement her Burgundian gown. The dress’ saffron skirts were piercing beams of summer against the burnished autumn hue of the kirtle that latched tightly against her pert chest. The image of his darling wife rushing past the stony keep and into the courtyard seeming more woman than countess with her hair tumbling about her, must have made the earl’s heart wrench with delight for this sun goddess of a woman that he now possessed. I chose his favourite dress, but for that remark I shall choose the most matronly headdress - the one he hates. I shall take it off when he begs my pardon for all this inappropriate cooing over the bastard.
With the classic lack of concern customary of a pre-occupied magnate, Richard did not notice his wife’s minuscule act of defiance. Ever since the death of little Anne two years past, one of England’s greatest earldoms had burdened her husband with its great expectations. Ever since parliament declared her sole heiress over her half-sisters, Richard’s mind was constantly operating in tandem between the world before him and the world next morrow.
Thankfully he eventually sensed the tension surrounding him soon enough to act swiftly and pick up Isabel. The baby’s eyes that only moments ago seemed to lay frozen in her face, lit up with an excitement spreading throughout her whole expression, culminating in a joyful squirm as her father cradled her. Anne started to worry that the disappointment surrounding her sex had started to be rescepted by Isabel. She was now relieved to see the prevention of that.
‘Dear god Anne’ said Richard not tearing his eyes off Isabel ‘What a jewel you have given me’
The heartfelt display thawed the ice that previously had a hold over Anne’s heart as she let out a smiling sigh of relief that after months enraptured in the gripping power plays and intrigues of a royal court, Isabel did not disappoint.
‘As beautiful as her lady mother’ he continued before flashing a knight’s dazzling smile. A smile devoid of vulgarity and void of mummery. A smile so chivalrous that it belonged in Camelot.
He knows to appeal to my vanity the wicked man. Shame on him and his courtier’s tricks.
Before she could damn him further he gently tugged at the hem of her sleeves, bringing her close enough to folder her in his arms with Isabel. She made her peace. ‘Remind me, my sweet, what is the meaning of her Christian name?’ He asked
‘Pledged to God’ Anne smiled ‘As we all are’
‘As we all must be. The war against France has weakened our king. That shrew of a maid of Orleans has marked the demise of any chance we may ever have to hold true power in France’ he started complaining vociferously. And now he recommences. I find it passing incredible how nearly everything I say he takes as a prompt to indulge himself into one of his soliloquies. Today he bemoans England’s fortunes in “the useless war.” ‘... with any luck our recapturing of Bordeaux would at least render this war not a complete loss.’
‘I hear Talbot shall be leading the command. If Gascony were taken back that would bring glory to-’
‘The glory of the Lancastrian rose is of no concern to me Anne’ Richard interrupted suddenly ‘I need this wasteful war to cease so that my father may regain his men and deal with Percy once and for all.’
‘For shame my Lord husband! You mean to tell me you’re heart does not yearn for the chivalry of defeating the lily of France?’ teased Anne playfully ‘Does your heart not beat red for Lancaster and the quest of justice to fulfill their ancestral claims?’
Any other day Richard would respond to Anne’s coyness the way she liked. It was one of their oldest customs. A couple of japes would be passed back and forth always leading to him jokingly proclaiming her a disobedient woman while slowly lifting her skirts and punishing her as if she were an unruly wench eagerly accepting what punishment her lord sees fit. Today something was different and Anne admittedly felt a little more than hurt.
‘Nay wife. Red for the bear and ragged staff. The only cause I believe in. My father was right; this simpleton of a King is incapable of responding to our petitions. We are of royal blood and wardenship of the West March does make us far more capable of keeping Percy tenants in good support. If the Lancastrians of Westminster choose to preoccupy themselves with the lost cause which is the French crown I see no reason to continue blindly serving this line of usurpers.’
Anne froze. Though far from an emotional man, Richard usually delighted in being the cause of his own flights of fury. She would sit on the ledge by the solar windowpanes attentively as he would in his lectures damn half a dozen men and complain endlessly about anything between Beaufort’s incompetence and the treacherous Percys. The series after the Scottish wars was the most heartfelt.
Today’s sermon was delivered in a frigid manner devoid of any of the four humours nor spite. It was the discourse of a man already deep in planning
Choleric or not, Richard was ravenous, downing one slice of capon dipped in melted spiced butter after the other. His return was especially rejoiced by Cook Royce whose pregnant mistress’ cravings for the mundane poussin and squab had left him with no opportunity for great culinary creative expression.
The Goyart tapestries on the soot grey walls of the great hall have been changed for the richer and more sombre Flemish tapestries. Her favourite depicted a fair haired maiden lying sombrely on the juniper grass guarded by maned lions. She pointed her mirror towards the unicorn as if to reveal to him his own magic, though his horn did not reflect in the mirror like the rest of his comely face. Ah the scintillating nature of magic. God reveals himself in ways that elude most. She thought back to all the miracles she thought she had witnessed in her girlhood. Blue roses appearing in winter, the butterfly with transparent wings, even the draft and light from the glass window working in conjunction, turning her to the appropriate page and shining blue light upon the bible passage so her governess would not realise she was not attentive...
‘Ah yes, do you like them Anne? They were part of the Dowager Duchess of Bedford’s dowry, given to the crown in part payment for the dishonour that was her illicit marriage’ Richard said after finally lifting his head from the plate
‘The lady Jacquetta led quite a scandal’ started Anne ‘How is she fareing shacked up with her squire?’
‘Last I heard he was made Baron Rivers’
‘A fanciful title’
‘Still not one a mere country squire merits. I highly doubt it will ever bring in the income to sufficiently maintain the widow of Prince John in the luxury to which she grew accustomed.’
‘The luxury she grew accustomed to as the daughter of Peter of Luxembourg would prove to be the more insurmountable standard for Woodville to reach.’
‘What are you trying to say my lady?’ Richard began teasing ‘Do our English comforts no longer satisfy yours or the Duchess’ lofty needs?’
‘I only say, husband, that just as the Italian duchies are rife with classical art, bards singing dulcet tones and those technologies - whatever they would be, Duke Philip has his own cohort of artists and inventors. The ‘Burgundian School’ is so accomplished our very own John Dunstaple has joined their ranks...’ Richard’s fatigue was waning his attention until his wife stood up from the oak long table and spun around. The flashes of the yellow silk at the skirts extending out with each movement and encircling the amber coloured kirtle as if she were the sun itself come down from the heavens to grace and bring calm to her particularly agitated earl. ‘...and this.’ Anne finished referring to the Burgundian fashions. For dramatic effect she pointed her elbows high to present the same pomegranate pattern adornishing the trimmings of the long jagged sleeves - and as he later noticed - the lining of the deep v-neckline of the dress.
‘Jesus wept’ Richard exclaimed ‘What could have possibly possessed me and drawn me away from noticing the beauty of your gown, for so long?’
By then all the food was dispensed with and the hall was clear of servants. In the privacy of the ancient great hall and enraptured with the smell of fresh rushes the Earl of Warwick drew his wife onto his lap. Anne happily obliged as eagerly as a moth to a flame and threw her arms around his neck tangling her long fingers in his shoulder-length woodland brown hair as she kissed him. Improper public displays like this were a rarity and almost never passed between the Earl and Countess of Warwick, but betwixt the lengthy separation, a wife’s adoration and splendid supper neither could help themselves.
I see Isabel’s birth has not made him wroth at me. Perchance he will one day grow to love her as much as I do.
As if capable of reading her mind Richard drew her in even closer for a longer more ardent kiss. Not the polite type a knight would give his elusive ladylove.
‘No verbalisation of mine could ever express my gratitude for your birthing of such a perfect babe, I shall love Isabel as dearly as others love their sons’
‘God will give us a son soon my love, I promise you that....’ Anne started
‘Even if he does not, lest we forget the running tradition of female heiresses in both our lines’ Richard gently said while his fingers traced the hem marking the end of Anne’s kirtle and the tender skin above her breasts. It was no secret that her vast inheritance served as a point of pride for her husband; few knew it was also an aphrodisiac. ‘The finest men in the kingdom will vie for her hand in marriage’.
Anne nestled her weary head in the crook of his neck adjusting so the sharp corners of her caul do not dig into his neck before saying ‘She is too young to even contemplate such a thing.’ She was playing the doting mother. I would not admit to anyone that just hours after her birth I had been lining up a list of names in my head. Most women would think that only shrews and wicked mothers work in that way. But these women were not born to be heiresses like I was and Isabel is. Her and I are of a different breed.
‘Margaret of Anjou is taking very young girls into her service nowadays. Jacquetta Rivers’ eldest Elizabeth had been appointed lady-in-Waiting since she was just ten and three’
‘It never ceases to amaze me how many lives those Woodvilles have’ Anne chortled ‘not even the biggest scandal of Christendom could bar them from the court or king’s favour.’
‘For all of Lady Rivers’ ambitions this is the highest her or any of her brats could ever rise to. For all her fabled beauty, last I heard Elizabeth is pre-contracted to marry a modest Leicester knight like her father. Now just imagine the great marriages Isabel will have to choose from, when the time comes for her to be brought to court’ said Richard
‘Just imagine’ replied Anne wistfully ‘the greatest lady of the land - second only to the Rose of Anjou herself.’
Read the other 4 Chapters here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268239/chapters/53175664
#isabel neville#george duke of clarence#wars of the roses#the white queen#the kingmaker#anne beauchamp#fanfic#richard neville earl of warwick#anne neville#fanfiction#house of york#please r and r :)
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aeondeug replied to your post
“Tag Game: Post the last sentence you wrote and tag as many people as...”
MASS EFFECTYRATH???
So when I play ME sometimes my partner hangs out in my room with me and I commentate to him, and he was hanging out with me while I was doing the Reaper IFF mission in ME2. And if you click around during that mission you can find the journal fragments from the scientists who boarded the dead Reaper and fell under its indoctrination, which features one of the most DOWNRIGHT CHILLING lines of the entire series: "Chandana said the ship was dead....but even a dead god can dream. A god--a real god--is a verb....it's a force. It warps reality just by being there. It doesn't have to want to. It doesn't have to think about it. It just does."
And I paused the game, abominations and husks all over my team, and turned to my partner who knew nothing about the Kencyrath, and said very intensely "I AM GOING TO WRITE A KENCYRATH AU OF THIS WHERE TORI IS SHEPARD AND THE REAPERS ARE PERIMAL DARKLING AND JAME IS THE VANGUARD OF THEIR INVASION WHO BROKE FREE AND RAN, AND I AM GOING TO TITLE IT 'EVEN DEAD GODS DREAM'"
And now I am doing exactly that. Some high points below the cut, in which I approach Mass Effect canon with my usual tender disregard for the rules and Kencyrath with an uncommon disregard for spoilers.
High Councillor Gerridon was one of a long-extinct, broadly human-like alien species, looked to as brilliant scientists and the creators of the mass relays and the Citadel by the current Council races. His people, the Shanir, were wiped from existence mysteriously about fifty thousand years ago, and no one knows why. The truth of the matter is that Gerridon betrayed the previous Citadel to the Reapers in return for immortality. He sort of got it--he's the heart of the Master, a Reaper made from the genetic material of his people. Jamethiel Dream-weaver was his twin and consort, who aided him in the annihilation of the Citadel and everyone aboard by using her species' natural biotic abilities to hold the entire populace in thrall until the Reapers came. For this service, and for the potential she showed to be a weapon in future cycles, she was spared. However, this massive expenditure of power began to erode her control over her abilities, and in turn her mind, and so Jamethiel was placed in stasis when it became too much for her to bear, until the next cycle came to an end and the Master decided to try a new method of harvest.
The new method of harvesting a cycle is named Jamethiel, for her mother, and when she's seven years old, the blood of her mother's ancient race finally comes to full bloom. Jame sees her father, the disgraced general of the First Contact War who has been court martialed and drummed out of the Alliance for his recklessness that obliterated the Fifth Fleet, point a gun at her nursemaid's head, and without help, without an implant, without anything, she throws up a suddenly clawed hand and hurls Ganth into a bulkhead with a biotic shove. The explosion of power is gone as quickly as it appears, and when Ganth picks himself up, he drives his daughter out into the void in an escape pod. Aliens are less than animals, in Ganth's opinion, and while lashing out against him might be an unforgivable betrayal, it's the new, strange claws on Jame's hands that earns her exile.
Jame hasn't lost all her memories entirely, although they're horrifically hazy for the first decade and change after her escape pod is lost in the black. Something about indoctrination at such a young age seems to have eaten away her ability to form memories at the time, although she's retained quite a few skills whose origins she's not quite sure of. Somewhere in that fuzzy time period, she was given a biotic implant lightyears more advanced than anything the Council races can boast, so that she could focus her abilities with more ease--the splice of human and Shanir is dicey at times, and she seems to have gotten all the power and none of the biological road blocks that would normally keep her from becoming a living supernova. It took a long time, the labor of years, for Jame to pull herself out of the endless black water of indoctrination. One breath at a time, building biotic walls around herself. It was impossible. She did it anyway. Then she heard that the latest cycle was almost ready for harvest....
Back on Ganth's ship of exile, Torisen grows up. People die. Torisen is not a biotic, is not an alien, is nothing like his sister. He is a loyal and obedient son. Until he's not. Torisen Talissen, possessing the clothes on his back and not a single credit more, finds the turians before he finds the Alliance, and it's Primarch Adric Ardeth who sees to it that this young boy doesn't starve before he's old enough to become a soldier. It's also Primarch Ardeth who gets him into the Alliance. There are more strings on that arrangement than Torisen knows.
His father's name is Torisen Talissen's greatest secret, when he finally reaches Earth, the Alliance, because Ganth Knorth is a war criminal whose methods in the First Contact War were notoriously brutal, whose final stand with the Fifth Fleet cost thousands upon thousands of lives and left every ship under his command shattered and drifting. Only a small handful of his commanders know the truth, and then Torisen is hand-selected for N-7 and half his life is classified anyway. He's not a biotic, he's not an alien, he's a good soldier and the most stubborn bastard any of his comrades have ever seen, and the mystery of where he came from fades under the glamour of his exploits. The Urakarn colony is the one everyone knows about. No one questions why Torisen fights tooth and nail to take Burr, his most trusted lieutenant, and Rowan, the medic he dragged from the sand, everywhere with him, after Urakarn. Even when he's assigned as XO on the Gothregor, second in command to Captain Sheth Sharptongue, they go with him.
On the Gothregor's maiden voyage, they're assigned to Spectre Ashe, no last name given, an asari that Torisen knows as a friend of a friend (the friend is Harn, he's already on board because Ashe requested some muscle), and orders to take her to Eden Prime.
While the Gothregor plots her jump to the first mass relay, Jame steals a data chip and her armor and the first assault rifle she gets her hands on, and runs, not stopping even when she blunders into a Beacon that the Master has been experimenting with. Her shuttle's navigation doesn't survive her rather explosive escape from the Master, so she slaves the thing to the first geth ship she sees and hopes for the best.
The geth ship is headed for Eden Prime.
Other highlights:
Tori actually super is a biotic, don't tell him, Shanir bloodlines allow limited biotic use without an implant and he's been unintentionally using it for years
I wanted Harn to be the captain of the Gothregor before she's given to Tori, but then I realized that the Best Outcome here is that Harn and Marc are both krogans but on diametrically opposed ends of the Self Control Spectrum. Harn is your classic krogan berserker, Marc is a really good cook who is also prepared to fuck you up with a shotgun if you mess with Jame. Also I just. Really love Sheth and wanted him to be here.
Pereden is Saren, the Ardeths are all turians, you know I'm right
Torisen is the first human Spectre
The first narrative arc here (the contents of the first game) mostly feature Tori's in-group as squad mates, ft:
Lt Burr, a sniper/assault rifle specialist
Kirien J'ran, an asari biotic who specializes in the history of the Shanir
Harn Griphard, a krogan mercenary whose record is actually pretty legit, shotgun specialist and berserker
Lt Cmdr Donkerri Caineron, disgraced grandson of an Alliance admiral, assigned to the Gothregor as a spy, pistol/shotgun specialist, he dies on Virmire
Grimly nar Weald, an upbeat quarian machinist, a friend of Tori's who's been on his Pilgrimage for a bit, a shotgun/tech specialist
Not a squadmate, but in the whole first arc the pilot of the ship is very quiet and unwilling to talk but over the course of the narrative Bel-tairi warms up to people a little
Jame is not a squadmate, she and Tori are both main characters in the first arc and if this was a game you'd have to take both always, but Jame is a biotic powerhouse and Tori is an assault rifle/melee specialist, don't question me
Tori and Jame stop Sovereign the Horde and still no one believes them about the Reapers, even though they make Torisen a whole-ass Council member and Jame a whole-ass Spectre (she doesn't even HAVE a military rank, she's not even PART of the Alliance, everyone on her ship calls her "boss" or "Jame")
It somehow does not improve things, re: Jame and Tori's relationship, to be more or less imprisoned on a ship together fighting the geth, and they'd die for each other but also everyone learns real quick to keep their heads down when they start fighting, until....
The Gothregor is destroyed not long after the Horde, and Jame Knorth (Tori and Jame take their real last name again, after everything, might as well redeem the family line while they're at it) is one of the casualties, killed saving Bel-tairi. Tori has two years to become intimately familiar with the fact that he may, actually, have fucked up. Then his sister shows up in his office with a new ship called the Tagmeth, new scars lacing her face and shoulder, and new horrible information about the fate of the galaxy.
Admiral Caineron is not actually running nearly as much as he thinks he is, he is being puppeteered by Matriarch Rawneth of the asari, but he's the one bankrolling the Tentir program and technically speaking Brier and Rue are his spies. In the second arc, squadmates include:
Marcarn, an unnaturally calm krogan mercenary who's an intermittent presence in the first game and takes an intense interest in making sure Jame eats regular meals, shotgun specialist and Local Tank
Brier Ironthorn, genetically engineered perfect soldier, stolen from her father by her mother at a young age, orphaned not that much later (Tori brought her mother’s tags back to her), Tentir officer assigned as Jame's XO who turns on Caineron pretty quick-like, biotic mostly specializing in your standard push/lift/slam assortment rather than Jame's more intense reave/warp/singularity skillset, she refused to place a control chip in Jame's implant during the resurrection
Rue Mindrear, Tentir officer and self-appointed quartermaster of the Tagmeth because Jame has no idea what she's doing, assault rifle/tech specialist
Bane, ex-prisoner with unusually erratic biotic abilities (Jack, okay, he's Jack, Ishtier tried to replicate legends of Shanir biotic powers and Bane hates/loves Jame enormously even before they figure out that they're related, he dies on the suicide run no matter what)
Grimly again, he and Jame are kinda tight by now and she politely pretends not to know that he's keeping Tori elaborately posted on their activities
Timmon Ardeth, grandson of the Primarch, looking to prove his father's ultimate innocence, sniper/electronics specialist, insufferable due to constantly hitting on Jame
Kindrie Walker, not a squadmate but the new medic, who grows a spine over the course of a year of yelling at Jame to sit down and let him look at her broken ribs, Rowan got a job at Huerta so she could be close to Torisen
Aerulan, a geth mobile platform named after the quarian word for Legion, sniper/electronics specialist
Probably some other people but Jesus this is long already
Tori comes back to the Tagmeth for the third arc, after the Reapers start to hit hard, because he's in some minor-to-moderate hot water with the Council on account of using his accesses to help Bel steal the Tagmeth and break his sister out of her own trial. This is also where they finally get to make full use of the datachip Jame stole waaaaaay back at the beginning, because the Reapers are here and she is the only person in the galaxy who has a record of previous cycles, including some odd schematics they can’t unravel.
They find a Shanir in stasis, his name is Terribend, and while he's too weak to fight for them, he might be able to help decode some of those schematics...especially the one labeled as the Ivory Knife.
The third game includes a Greatest Hits squad assembly of those left living and also features Jame and Tori actually functionally working together for once.
Um...I have no idea if I'll ever write this whole thing because I’m realizing it would be forty bazillion words, but I'll probably yeet snippets of it into the void from time to time.
#aeondeug#replies#mass effect#kencyrath#mass effectyrath#me: 'i'll just write a quick rundown of what i'm picturing'#LITERALLY TWO THOUSAND WORDS LATER#anyway yeah i'm writing A Scene right now#(it's jame and burr waiting for tori to wake up after his first encounter with a beacon)#but YEAH anyway jame and tori are both shepard and they mutually save the galaxy#i impulsively finished this massive write-up because (you guessed it) i have feelings after reading by demons possessed!#take it away from me#if you want any SPECIFIC scenes from this i would be happy to fill specific requests but otherwise idk#i'll just write whatever my little heart craves most from it#(......what my heart craves most is tori getting the report about the gothregor)#(proooooobably gonna write that one)#(ANGST! HELL! NOW!)#(i'm very tired because i slept terribly so my brain just spat out 'my tyr-ridan my tyr-ridan and me')#(mtmtam? MUH-TIM-TAM????)#(please stop me)#(i'm a monster)#queue deeper than the sea of stars
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newfragile yellows [492]
“You know when you signed me for this job, it wasn’t because I was a healer of any renown,” Ellana says. “In fact, I recall telling you that I as capable of rudimentary healing. I explained to Dalish, quite thoroughly, that I am proficient in only the most basic of field medicines. My field of expertise lies in the arts that cause the injury rather than repair it.��
“Absolutely fascinating. Scintillating shit, there,” Bull drawls. “Lay it on me, Wolf. Just hit me with that hot and heavy stuff. I’m loving it. It’s great.”
“And yet,” Ellana plows on as she slathers the burn on his back in salve that Stitches had literally thrown at her as he beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction. “Here I am. Again. Playing your nursemaid.”
“You have the shittiest bedside manner for a nurse or a maid,” Bull grumbles. “Hey. You think this is great for me? My physician has abandoned me to a Wolf.”
Ellana takes a small bit of satisfaction in the way his shoulder tense and the barely audible hiss followed by the low curse that slides out between his teeth when she slaps her salve covered palm onto the edge of one of the less worrisome burns.
“Cold hands,” Bull says.
“Seething heart.”
“That’s not how that saying goes. Do they not have that saying where you come from?”
“They definitely don’t have it where you come from,” Ellana retorts.
“And how would you know that? Fuck. Are you here to kill me? I’m pretty sure you’re obligated to tell me that. It has to be listed somewhere in your contract. I have that standard in everyone else’s.”
“For all you know I had Dalish take that part out,” Ellana says. “I’m their loophole.”
“Fuckers. Ungrateful shits, every last one.”
“Even Grim?” Ellana asks, pausing and leaning forward to look at him over his shoulder. “Are you really going to say those unkind things about Grim?”
Bull’s lips press together into a thin line before he sighs, “You’re right. Nah. He doesn’t deserve that shit. I take it back. Fuckers. Ungrateful shits. Everyone last one, except for Grim.”
Ellana nods, leaning back to even out the layers of salve and cover them with some clean fibers.
“You think Stitches is in breach of contract to throwing me to a wolf rather than doing his fucking job?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t read that contract. We’re not allowed to read each other’s signing terms, which was part of the rules,” Ellana says. “Which, in hindsight, seems strange because Dalish had to read mine to sign me, and Krem had to read mine to approve it. So really, it doesn’t matter.”
“If it makes you feel better I also read your contract, I just can’t remember if they made that crucial change to the you have to tell me if you’re here for murder part.”
“Aren’t we all, in our own way, here for some kind of murder?”
“You know what I mean. Are you done yet?”
“Probably,” Ellana says. She doesn’t think it looks wrong. It seems simple enough. She cleaned the wounds. Put the salve. Covered it so it doesn’t get dry or get dirt on it. She’s probably gotten it right.
“That’s not comforting.”
“Remember the part about the bedside manner?”
“I’m starting to realize I might have liked you better when you were skittish and stand-offish and wary of me.”
“Me? Skittish?” Ellana can’t keep the laugh out of her voice.
“Yeah, yeah. Shows what kind of judge of character I am,” Bull mutters.
“You thought I was skittish?”
“Past tense.”
“How sweet of you.”
“Foolhardly, you mean. Look, you done?”
“I’m finished. Until the next time you get injured beyond my capabilities and Stitches and Dalish throw another set of directions and medical supplies at me with conflicting directives, I suppose.” Ellana, much more gently this time, pats some relatively uninjured skin on his back. “Perhaps next time don’t get hit by a giant ball of fire, hm?”
-
“You came back,” Bull says, eyebrows raising, “Miss us that much?”
“No, I forgot something,” Ellana says. “I was gone for two days, camp hasn’t moved, last I heard we hadn’t received any new assignment. What happened to Rocky?”
She’d passed him on her way to the center of camp while looking for Dalish and he looked awful. She didn’t even recognize him except for the faint smell of slightly singed Deep Mushrooms mixed with cedar.
“Rocky happened to Rocky,” Bull says, looking down at some letters that he’s shuffling through. Possible contracts, maybe recommendations, tips, general notes from previous employers. Or news from other mercenary groups. Maybe even notes from old, or current, lovers. Ellana has no idea. But she does think it’s very impressive that the Iron Bull’s managed to get messages delivered to himself when they so rarely have any idea of where they’re going to be and for how long.
Ellana pulls her bag over her head and sets it down, sitting next to Krem as he whittles away at some arrow shafts.
“What happened to Rocky, specifically?” Ellana asks.
“He thought,” Krem says, tongue momentarily poking out between his teeth as he carefully straightens out one side of the arrow shaft to even it out a bit. “He thought, incorrectly as you can guess, that it would be a good idea to put a bit of metal flakes in his latest attempt at copying Qunari black powder.”
“Did it work?”
“Define work,” Bull says. “What’d you leave behind, Wolf? Aside from us.”
“Some letters Dalish wanted me to deliver for her,” Ellana answers, “And some copies of maps a few of the other members wanted delivered along the way. Did he succeed in recreating black powder?”
“Not even close,” Bull says. “But he figure out an excellent recipe for a flash grenade.”
Bull looks up at her, “Are you going to make your ship? You’re two days behind, now. You want to take a second horse or something?”
“I have time,” Ellana says. “I can make it up tomorrow morning, my hart and I can take a long ride with minimal rest if we keep an even pace.”
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Just thinking of random things and thought of some of the muses’ parents and their jobs. No particular reason. Just did.
Crowe’s father, Theodric Metaxas, is a fisherman. It is very common of a job and his father’s always been proud of it. Unlike Crowe, he’s up very early to get a start on things and for a while thought Crowe might take it up. Which by his adolescence it was clear he wouldn’t.
Sofia Metaxas, Crowe’s mother, helps maintain an olive farm and vineyard. His family always seemed old-fashioned in terms of work but a lot of his hometown is like that.
Kirika’s mother runs the business aspect of the Sumeragi family as they have clients, some with history spanning centuries with them. Her father is a trainer for other Sumeragi in the ways of exorcism.
Arjun, Velvet’s father, was a doctor although he occasionally healed patients with magic. He also was something of a researcher although it was not something he shared due to the unusual nature of it.
Elysia’s parents are aristocrats although her father is an architect and her mother is quite adept at horseback riding.
Aspis’ mother worked in one of the more popular tourist experiences for their island. She actually enjoyed it although tourist season leaves her very swamped and sometimes she brought Keahi and Kai to some performances because of it.
Aspis’ father was a healthcare worker, mainly doing in-home care to the older residents of the island. Despite being a foreigner, he adapted fast and always seen as a ‘perfect match’ to Aspis’ mother.
Sorin’s mother’s family runs a ryokan, or a traditional Japanese inn, where his mother primarily does the running around to ease on her parents. His father’s family essentially are the secretive overseers of the RSB, which they had founded.
Danika’s mother, Corrine (now Chihaya Magami), works in IT while her father, Shin Magami, is an English teacher for primary school.
Kesil, Artemis, and Iggy’s dad, as has been told a lot by now, is a mercenary. Andrei Mechnikov only does assassination and is a thorough and a man unable to be found unless he wants to be found. Their mothers (which Iggy doesn’t share with them) are both mercenaries too. Kasimira Mechnikova specializes in poisoning although she does have medical knowledge. Silvestre specializes in brutality and intimidation.
Kesil’s aunt, Lyudmila Yoshida, works as a forensics expert. She prefers ballistics but it’s pretty useless out where she lives. Her husband, Isamu Yoshida, is a doctor. He often takes emergency calls.
Rivka Winterrose, Samir’s mother, is a translator for written works. She knows several languages and usually is brushing up on any she hasn’t worked on recently. Which she also has taught to her son.
Asher Winterrose, Samir’s father, is a former soldier that eventually went into social work, particularly interested in working with other veterans and later with children.
Bijou’s mother, Scarlet Girardot, is a phantom thief like her daughter. They only team up on occasion due to Bijou’s father trying to hunt Scarlet.
Vesna’s mother, Marisa, was a ranger and volunteer firefighter before her accident. Her father, Renshu, used to work in manufacturing but went into carpentry when he moved with Vesna.
Lihua, Tsura’s mom, was dancer that specialized in traditional dance for both Japanese and Chinese performances. She now is cared for by the Jiaolong. Trenton Grey, Tsura’s father, had clairvoyance and served as adviser to the Jiaolong.
Dominicus’ parents are aristocrats that have lost their fortune and have very slowly been getting rid of their assets to keep up with their way of living.
Noe’s mother, Sybil, was a princess and later strategist for her land’s army. His father, Raza, was a guard to Sybil. They took on odd jobs since they ran away when he was born.
Rune’s mother, Duvessa (born Masami Marufuji), is a vagrant that is hiding from her family. Meanwhile their father, Jarl Vespar, is an escort. They do not know what their parents do.
Kylar’s parents both worked stables and have long since passed of natural causes.
Sullivan’s mother was a nursemaid and his father was a shipwright.
Altair’s parents were both bounty hunters.
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Closure [6&7]
Chapter Six [The Princess]
Notes: This is two chapters in one, featuring the POV of both Sophy & Maxwell.
Words: 2164
Tag list: @drakewalkerwhipped @hhiggs @youwontlikewherewewillgo @nicestrokepam @theroyalweisme @hopefulmoonobject @laniquelove @penguininapinktuxedo @pbchoicesobsessed @dangerous-capri15 @alicars @mfackenthal @ninamckenzie22 @topsyturvy-dream @viktoriapetit ~ sorry if I missed anyone!
Song: Let Her Go, Passenger
Sophy hates this party. The sugar mice have already been eaten, and her mummy is dancing, dancing, dancing with the king, which has made Papa sad. It's made her Uncle Bertrand happy though -- he's been smiling like his face will fall off since they arrived at the palace, as if he wasn't talking to Mummy in that grumpy voice before they left.
Don't you remember? We've been practicing for months. You must remember, Lilly. Sophy, you are dismissed. Go play with your dolls. Of course, he was not so grumpy with Sophy, but she saw the way he looked at Mummy, and fiercely wanted her Papa to come home.
I'll be home soon, my sweet little squirrel. Look after your mama and your little sisters. Papa had kissed her on the forehead, and she had wondered, in the morning, why Uncle Bertrand was so grumpy.
She hadn't had to wonder for long.
She, Gemma and Talia had been playing with their dolls under the long table in the breakfast room (Kenna had defeated the evil Azura, she was marrying Diavolos and Valentina, and her best friend was a dragon). They all tensed when the shouting match began. Talia screwed up her face, like she was about to start bawling, but Gemma grabbed her hand and pointed down the tunnel of chairs that led to the door. After Talia started crawling, clutching her blue dragon plushie, Gemma had looked at Sophy, her brown eyes filled with tears.
Come on, Gemma mouthed. In Sophy's ear, she whispered, Let's go see the babies and Miss Jess.
Miss Jess was a lady that Uncle Bertrand had hired as a nursemaid to watch the babies for the social season. She knew the King's big brother, which confused Sophy (shouldn't a big brother be King?), but she was more fun than Mummy, which made Sophy feel bad, so unlike her sisters, she could not warm up to Miss Jess. If she thought she might love Miss Jess more than Mummy, Mummy would feel bad and send her away -- just like her Aunty Vannah had gone away, Mummy screaming bad words and throwing things. Whenever she begged for Percy to come home, Papa tried to pretend he was not about to cry.
You go. I want to see Papa, Sophy whispered. Tell Miss Jess I'm in the greenhouse.
The lie felt funny in her stomach, like the time she took a bite of Papa's birthday cake that before it was served. Gemma hugged her, hard. Then she followed Talia down the tunnel of chairs, not once looking behind her. The shouting got louder. Sophy saw Uncle Bertrand's feet, pacing up and down. His voice was the loudest.
Peacocks would be welcome! The Cote d' Or... Bleeding us dry! I've had to borrow money to fund our return to court, quite a bit of it. How could you leave like that... I'm sick to death of it, do you hear me, brother?
Bertrand, it's not like that, I was winning, if I could have a little money, I can win it all back for us, please... I only need ten thousand euro...
A little money, Max, that is not a little! Some commoners make only twice that in a year. Our pockets are not deep like your Saudi friends, they are full of holes. ...Yes, I borrowed money. Quite a bit. So stay away from the casinos until after I have paid at least half of it back, or god help me, we will be in it up to our necks.
Papa! Sophy burst out from under the table, throwing herself in his arms. Uncle Bertrand turned his face away. The ugly scowl on his face scared Sophy, and she buried her face in her Papa's chest.
That child... You are truly your father's daughter. Uncle Bertrand patted her on the head with affection. Max, we'll continue this later.
But if they had, Sophy had not heard a word of it. Instead, Mummy had told her she was to accompany them to court, because the king was throwing a party for her, for Sophy, because she was such a big girl now, and he had heard that she was the very best of all House Beaumont's daughters.
"This is boring." Sophy looks at Jack. He is a funny boy, with messy dark hair, green eyes, and freckles. "Aren't there any other kids for us to play with?"
"No." He sticks out his tongue at Sophy. "Look!" Jack points out the corral. Something is glinting outside in the grass, a piece of gold foil. "That looks like a chocolate crown! Those are my favorites!"
Jack wriggles our first, and Sophy follows him, game for anything. The edge of her dress rips, and she knows Mummy will be mad, but she doesn't care. Once they get outside, the candy lies on the ground between them. It's a piece of chocolate, wrapped in gold foil and stamped with a crown. They both fall in it, squabbling. Chocolate with a Cordonian Ruby nougat center is Sophy's favorite.
"Look!" Jack points. "There's another one!"
It's like a game. They fill their pockets with the little candies, grinning at each other, each trying to get more than the other. The candies lead to a dark path, down a twisting maze of tall hedges. Sophy pauses at the edge, unsure, but Jack breezes past her, shouting:
"Look, Sophy! A lollipop!" He holds it up in his hands triumphantly, it's a rainbow swirl bigger than his head. "And there's a unicorn horn for you!"
Pushing back her trepidation, Sophy follows him. It is very dark here, beyond the lights, and the blackness seems alive. "Jack..."
"Well, well, well. Who have we here? Well met, Master Jackson Nevrakis."
Sophy cannot breathe. Jack turns around in confusion. He has a smear of chocolate around his mouth. He doesn't look scared, so why does Sophy feel so funny? She turns, too. There is a whiff of something sickly and sweet.
A beautiful lady stands before them in a golden gown, pale hair glittering with diamond combs. "You must be Sophy Beaumont," she says with a soft chuckle that makes all the hairs on Sophy's arms rise on edge.
Run, Jack! But she never gets the words out. Something sweet smelling is pressed on her nose and mouth, and beside her she hears Jack's body hit the grass with a soft whumpf.
Chapter 7 [The Husband]
"Maxwell!" Olivia snaps her fingers in front of his face. "Are you listening?" Her gaze follows his. The king and Lilly have waltzed out of the ballroom and the open doors to the balcony. Olivia's lips twist into a grimace. "We may as well wait. He likes to take his time, he's quite the generous lover."
Maxwell feels like he's been stabbed all over, like he is bleeding out. His vision flickers, everything going dark except Olivia's face. He feels for a chair, collapsing into it.
My Little Bird with throat so red, sings sorrow, sorrow, sorrow. He's singing for his love who's dead, sing sorrow, sorrow, sorrow. (1)
Maxwell jumped when he heard the lullaby. Lilly stood near the cradle, rocking baby Sophy in her arms. He was overcome with emotion, and he pressed his fist in his mouth, not daring to interrupt the moment. For before this, Lilly's interest in the baby had been nil, and Maxwell was the one who rocked Sophy to sleep every night, her sweet, milk-drunk face making him fall more and more in love with her. She had a nursemaid, of course, a sweet girl from the village, but to see Lilly with their daughter in his arms broke his heart.
The doctor had told him Lilly would come around, that it was a thing called postpartum depression, and soon she would love Sophy just as much as he. Plenty of rest, the doctor ordered. And perhaps, her own mother...?
But who is Lilly's mother? She would never speak of her life before Cordonia. All she would say, when pressed, was that That was a long time ago. I don't want to talk about it.
He pressed his forehead against the doorframe and listened, for now she had begun to speak in a soothing voice. It is like the fairytales his own mother would tell him as a child, about brave Kenna, fighting for her kingdom against the evil Luther, and Valentina, the fierce and lovely female mercenary who fought by her side. As Maxwell listened, a chill crept into his veins. Though Sophy was not yet at the age of understanding, he still did not want her to hear this.
Once upon a time, there was a little girl with hair like crow's feathers and golden eyes like the moon. The old king died when she was still in her cradle, and her mother stole her from the palace in the dark of night, the blood of the regent on her hands. They wandered for many moons, over hill and dale, until they heard a little bird singing in a lonely cove. There, they found a little cottage in the mangroves. And there they stayed, and they were happy. But when the little girl turned fourteen, the queen ate poison and died...
Lilly. He'd opened the door, and stood there. She'd turned to him, a sudden darkness in her eyes. Her arms tightened around Sophy, who let out a shriek of pain. Maxwell grabbed Sophy from her arms, cuddling her to his chest until she quieted. Lilly's eyes in the low light were unfathomable.
That night, she had wanted him to hurt her in bed. Hold me down, she said savagely. Fuck me like your whore. Don't think I haven't noticed the way she looks at you. Well, she can't have you. Fuck me hard, Max, or I'll go find Bertrand. I've seen the way he looks at me when he drinks.
To his shame, he hadn't been able to perform. I can't hurt you, Lilly! he'd protested, and she'd thrown her drink at him, screaming that she wanted a real man, someone who would fuck her like she deserved, someone who knew how to make her come. After that, she was gone for three weeks, and when she returned she was satiated and satisfied with herself, like a cat in heat that has been let out to roam. Faded yellow and green love bites had peppered her neck and breasts, and her look had dared him to do violence, to make her his in a sick way, but he was never that sort of man, the kind she needed, the one she wanted.
Someone shoves a glass into his hand, and he drinks, not caring what it is, until the room swims back into focus. "Lilly..."
"That's right. Your precious Lilly." Olivia's voice is fierce, yet she is trembling, and there is such a vulnerability in her eyes that Maxwell cannot look at her, it mirrors his own pain too deeply. "Spreading her thighs for the king, taking my place. You know I loved him once," she continues, staring off into the distance. "But I loved Drake more. Everything was taken from me, Maxwell. Love... dignity... But for Jack, I would quit this accursed island." Bitterly, she sets her glass down. Tears run freely from her eyes. "Why didn't you send her away, once you knew what she was?"
But Maxwell is striding away, oblivious to Bertrand's hiss of disapproval, and when he exits the ballroom into the gardens he breaks into a run, his feet taking him down the paths he remembers running through as a child, before Lilly, before Liam was king, tears blinding his eyes. "Lilly!" Maxwell howls. "Lilly, Lilly!"
The King passes him in the moonlight and sees his tears, but says nothing. Liam is like a man possessed, on his face is every betrayal scarred across Maxwell's heart for all eternity. Something familiar is in his face, so familiar, so dear, that Maxwell has looked at every day for the past seven years and denied -- not wanting to recognize the truth. The pain doubles him over.
Past him rushes Lilly, calling for the king. She has greenery in her hair, her skirts are rumpled. She does not know Maxwell, she does not care. The darkness opens up and Maxwell grabs her by the waist, throwing her down in the soft grass. Lilly stares up at him in surprise, and then fear. He doesn't know what he wants to do, only that he wants her to know that she is his wife, his Lilly, his and only his, the desire to hurt her like a black serpent twisting under his skin, where it has lain for seven years in bitter solitude.
That is when he hears it, the panicked shouts that makes his blood run cold, and the fear crystallize in his veins.
"Sophy! Sophy, where are you?!"
this rhyme is from the fairy tale, Jorinda and Joringel
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FE Awakening: The Nightmare Part 7
Her first trip to Ylisstol took place when Severa was five, before Morgan was born. Her mother was still pregnant with the baby that would be Severa’s sister, and so took it easy in the carriage as it trundled down the road toward the capital of the halidom. Her father sat next to Severa, reading from a book as his daughter listened to his voice with rapt attention. She loved it when Robin read; he had a way of bringing the characters to life, giving each a distinctive voice despite the stress it must have caused to his throat.
Today the story was of the warrior Ike and his band of mercenaries. These were some of Severa’s personal favorites, of Soren and Titania, of Zelgius and Micaiah, and she was endlessly amused by her father’s attempts to make a high-pitched voice for Micaiah. Judging by the chuckling her mother was making, Severa wasn’t the only one.
As they were about to reach the climax of the story, the carriage slowed to a stop. Robin smiled, glancing out the window. “It seems we’ve arrived.”
The three stepped out, Robin helping Cordelia down. As the two paid the driver, Severa glanced around, amazed at her surroundings. Buildings towered over her, larger than any she had ever seen in their home village. People crowded around, and she could hear shouts as merchants advertised their wares. And in the distance, the towering palace of the Exalt, shining and proud.
Her parents rejoined her, and each held her hands as they began walking toward that magnificent palace. Twice they were waylaid, each time by the same red-haired woman who insisted she was two different people. Severa had giggled at that, not quite believing the woman who only rolled her eyes with a smile on her face.
Severa and her parents reached the palace forty-five minutes later, her parents having pointed out different landmarks on their walk. The guards allowed the three passage into the palace, and suddenly Severa was in the presence of the Exalt and his family.
The Exalt’s wife – Aunt Sumia, Severa dimly recalled – grinned and embraced Cordelia when they appeared, with the Exalt’s sister following close behind. Severa heard Sumia talking excitedly about her newborn, and asking Cordelia when she was due. Grown-up talk, Severa decided as she tuned it out.
The Exalt himself – tall and confident – stepped forward and embraced her father, grinning. “You don’t stop by often enough,” the Exalt was saying.
Robin’s response was a mere shrug, returning the Exalt’s grin. “What can I say? I prefer the countryside. Besides, I’m certain that if I were to live in the capital, you’d bury me in so much paperwork I’d wonder if there were any trees left in the world.”
The two laughed, then the Exalt turned his gaze to Severa, who hid somewhat behind her father’s leg. “And this must be your daughter. She was still in Cordelia’s arms last I saw her. You’re growing up pretty quickly, Severa.”
Severa blushed, amazed that the Exalt remembered her name! “T-thank you, Your Highness,” Severa said, ducking her head to hide her embarrassment.
“So shy!” Chrom said, chuckling. “So much like Lucina, actually.”
“And where is she, by the way?” Robin asked. “And Owain?”
“They’re visiting the baby. Lucina is practically overjoyed that she has a baby sister now. That’s another reason you should move here; I’m sure your daughter will love to have a playmate.”
“Stahl and his family live close by, and while his child isn’t quite old enough to play with Severa, I’m sure they’ll be friends soon enough.”
“And how is Stahl, by the way?”
“He’s been doing well. Put on a bit of weight from his wife’s cooking. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it.”
“That’s alright; I’m glad he’s happy.” The Exalt gestured. “Would you all like to visit baby Cynthia yourselves?”
“Waaaay ahead of you, bro!” his sister called out as she led the way, Sumia and Cordelia following. “Carriage is leaving the stable, all aboard!”
“Lissa is still as energetic as ever, I see,” Robin commented as they set off, Severa still clinging to his robe. “Some things never change.”
“Almost a relief, I think,” Chrom replied. “So many things have changed since we defeated Valm. I’m still not sure if I’m capable to handling it all.”
Robin set a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Chrom. You’re the most qualified man I know to run the halidom. Tactician’s promise.”
Chrom smiled. “We’ve certainly changed a lot from when we first met in that field.”
Robin glanced over his shoulder to his daughter. “That we have,” he laughed warmly.
They reached the baby’s room soon after. A nursemaid was standing within, watching over the baby, and on either side of her were two children that seemed about Severa’s age. One was a young boy with dark black hair, spouting off nonsense so fast that Severa couldn’t keep up. Beside him was a girl, slightly taller than him, with flowing blue hair. She was cooing softly at the baby, trying to drown out the boy’s nonsense before it could wake her. When the small party walked inside, the girl stopped and looked up, her face lighting up when she saw Chrom. “Father!” she exclaimed softly, scurrying up to him.
Chrom took her in his arms, laughing. “You’re getting pretty big, Lucy. I won’t be able to hold you much longer.” He turned, the girl now facing Severa and her father. “Do you know who this is?”
The girl’s eyes narrowed in thought for a moment. “Robin! Father’s best friend and the Shepherd’s top tactician!”
Robin grinned. “Very good.” He gestured at Severa, who clung to his pants as she stared up at the girl. “And her?”
Lucina thought again for a moment. “Your...daughter?”
“Yes. This is Severa.” Robin smiled at her. “She’s a little shy. Say hi, Sevvy.”
“H-hi,” Severa said, waving slightly.
Lucina waved back. “Hi. I’m Lucina.”
“Severa.”
#writing#fanfiction#fire emblem fanfiction#fire emblem#fire emblem awakening#severa#lucina#cordelia#robin#sumia#cynthia#chrom#owain#flashback#shy severa#kids
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What are the traits of the SMILE children?
I had this discussion with @opotakuism about this since SMILE is very different from the Devil Fruits~ Here’s their appearance along with a little of their pasts~ I’ll get out their personalities later~
All of the children live in the Barn, a place in Onigashima where abandoned and orphaned children are kept and “raised” to be strong for training. They are known as “Younglings”. There is only five Younglings as the Beast Pirates hadn’t make an effort to find more recently and had been neglectful to the children.
Pollen- Pollen is an infant from a Kijani tribe that eats honey-based food. Because of they are trying to escape a violent warlord clan, they tend to hired mercenaries to fight as they planned to travel to the East. They are unable to hire Germa 66 due to their lack of money and called the Beast Pirates instead since they can take an alternative payment. Instead of taking cash, the Beast Pirates offered to take one of the children instead. After some time, the tribe agreed to give them Pollen, who is an “extra” child, meaning she’s one child too many for them. She was then given a SMILE to see if a baby can eat it. It was a Kijanized Honeybee SMILE. She has puffy black hair and red eyes. She would look like this. Before Sanju arrived, Pollen was wearing only a diaper. Due to the Beast Pirates’ negligence, she ended up with a rash due to being changed once daily. When Sanju became a nursemaid, Pollen has been getting clean diapers and wears a black and yellow dress. Her SMILE traits are a smaller stinger from behind (which can regenerate minutes after stinging), a small antenna, can carry pollen, and producing honey. Due to her age, she don’t have Gifter clothes though she’s allowed to wear a pair of clothes.
Goatboy- Goatboy is a six year old from Bornholm. He was kidnapped from his town in Bornholm when a subordinate crew of the Beast Pirates raided it. He asked to go back home but his pleads were mocked. Instead, he was forced to become a member of the Beast Pirates. Due to the Beast Pirates’ neglect, Goatboy started eating metal, which doesn’t damaged his body. He has wavy gray hair and goat-like blue eyes. Before Sanju came, he often fights over the canned food so he can eat the metal cans first. He wore a ragged shirt and shorts. After Sanju got him clothes, he wears a red shirt and blue pants with shoes. His Gifter clothes are a black vest and shoulder plates with spikes. His boots, wristbands, and pants are black. His belt has a goat symbol. As a Gifter, he wears a pair of black horns on his head. His Goat SMILE traits are that his right leg is a goat leg, growing large goat horns, and he end his sentences with “Maaa”. His goat leg allows him to jump and climb high.
Shion- Shion is a seven year old that was abandoned by his family due to the shortage of food. He traveled to Onigashima in order to steal some food but he was captured by the Beast Pirates. Shion fought back with a sword and managed to injured a few Waiters and Pleasures. The Headliners see him to be very useful and kept him in the Barn with the other children. He is classified as a Waiter and will be eating a SMILE. HE had been punished for attempting to leave several times. He has partially shaved teal hair and yellow eyes. Before Sanju came, he wore a ragged and tattered red yukata with patches. After her arrival, Shion wears a blue and green yukata. As a Waiter, he wears black pants, gloves, and boots. He also has a pair of goggles and a sword.
Bura- Bura is a five year old orphan from Roshwan. She stowaway in a subordinate’s ship when she saw gold and diamonds. When she discovered, she begged them not to kill her and that she can useful to them. She then ended up eating a Turtle SMILE when searching for food when the Beast Pirates only gave her scraps. I based her appearance on a young Russian model from Instagram named Viola. She has blonde hair with dark green highlights and green eyes. She wore an oversized dirty shirt before Sanju came. Then Bura wears a light green dress and sandals. Her Gifter clothes is a dark green dress with a turtle shell shield to fight. Her turtle leather gloves and boots are dark green and she wears a leather mouth mask. Her tongue is a retractable turtle head. It has a mind of its mind and the bites are extremely pain. The turtle shares the same stomach with her, allowing her to eat through it. As a Gifter, she wears a pair of black horns on her head.
Freude- Since he ate a failed smile, he smiles and laughs constantly even when he’s afraid, in pain, angry, or sad. He’s a five year old orphan from a raided island that was looking for food and asked a Gifter. Instead, he was given a failed SMILE and forced him to the Barn. Freude has spent most of his time in the Barn in fear but he’s unable to show it because of the SMILE. He has long shaggy violet hair and blue eyes. Prior to Sanju’s arrival, he wears a ragged pair of dirty shorts. After that, he wears a yellow jersey with a pair of blue jeans. As a Pleasure, he wears only one horn on his head. He wears a pair of black shorts, boots, and a sleeveless shirt. He also wears black shoulder pads. He carries an axe to fight.
The Barn looks like a one story small barn. Inside, there is a room for the Younglings to sleep in, a bathroom, and a living room. After Sanju arrived, a kitchenette got added, along with her own bedroom, a food pantry, a dining room, and a private lactation room so the Beast Pirates won’t see her. It’s constantly monitored by the Pleasures to prevent Sanju and the Younglings from escaping and enemies from entering. Sanju herself wear a black and white cow dress with a pair of horns and a collar with a gold cow bell. As a result of the Cow SMILE, her breasts and bottom have become larger. She has to get milked daily or she’ll start leaking uncontrollably.
#one piece#one piece au#cow smile au#one piece oc#Shion#Bura#Pollen#Freude#Goatboy#beast pirates#Younglings#fem!sanji au#Barn#Sanju#Vinsmoke Sanju
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One of my favorite moments in True Colors is the scene where Ordo takes a moment to eat some of the cheffa cake Besany sent him. It’s a moment where Ordo has the chance to recenter himself after a big disappointment and to gather himself up before facing a difficult issue.
It’s also a moment at the end of the chapter where the narrative has a moment to breathe, important because narrative tension cannot be always held taut, it must also be relaxed from time to time—or, well, the scene would serve this function if the entire chapter before it was more effectively written to maintain tension.
Under a cut because this got much longer than expected:
The scene comes at a moment where the group is very close to catching Ko Sai after years of desperate search. This is a moment that the Nulls, Ordo included, have dreamed of all their lives. Just when the Ko Sai is in reach, Ordo is told he needs to leave the hunt to tend to Etain on Qiilura. It’s an important task—Etain is pregnant and bleeding where she shouldn’t, and there’s no med droid to tend to her—but it’s one that requires Ordo to potentially give up a moment he’s wanted his entire life. Ordo, naturally, is upset. He’s even upset enough to try to gently argue it with Kal: “Kal’buir, are you certain you want me in Qiilura? I can be more use to you finding Ko Sai.” Although Vau volunteers to go instead, Kal insists on sending Ordo instead, saying that Etain is more used to Ordo than Vau—a dubious claim, given that Vau points out he and Etain got along well before. Ordo senses that Kal is not being entirely forthcoming and “wasn’t levelling with him now”, and he reflects on the situation:
Ordo couldn’t disobey. Kal’buir had his plans, and this was where Ordo fitted in. He didn’t have to be happy about it, though. He was being handed a soft job, a nursemaid job, the kind he always did when his brothers were racing around the galaxy carrying out anything from assassinations to elaborate financial frauds.
Do they resent me? Maybe they pity me.
“Yes, Kal’buir,” Ordo said. “I’ll treat it as a medical emergency.”
Mereel tossed him an identichip, the kind that opened security locks. “Take the shuttle I used to get here. I left it next to the cantina.”
They lived that kind of life. Credits, transport, supplies, the cost was no object: if the Republic didn’t bankroll it, they stole it, directly or indirectly. Ordo didn’t have any more personal desire for wealth than his brothers. He was used to finding all his needs met, but his needs seemed nowhere near as rich and varied as those of the beings around him. All he wanted right then was a piece of the cheffa cake that Besany had sent him, so he took half from the galley, slicing it in two pieces with his vibroblade, and left the rest for the others—even Mird, if strills ate such things. Then he went in search of the shuttle, just another mercenary wandering around on a lawless planet, and sat in the cockpit chewing the cake for a few minutes.
It was dry and spicy against his tongue, like licking scented velvet. The comfort effect was immediate and from another time and place.
Sometimes Ordo felt just as he did when he was a small child and Skirata first towered above him: part of him was competent far beyond his years, and the rest was hollow terror because the kaminiise were going to kill him, but Skirata had snatched him and his brothers to safety and fed them all on uj’alayi, a sticky-sweet Mandalorian cake. It was a powerful act of salvation, one that had defined Ordo. He felt it as freshly now as he had then. It was the cake. That was it. The cake had brought it all back. He felt safe again.
And this was from Besany Wennen. She was saving him too, in her way.
Ordo folded the remains of the cake in a piece of cleaning rag, slipped it into the pocket on the thigh of his flight suit, and fired up the shuttle’s drives to head for Qiilura. He had no idea—yet—what to do with a pregnant Jedi who was showing signs of miscarriage on a backworld planet a long way from competent gynecological help, but he’d find out.
He was Ordo. Nothing was beyond him.
It’s significant that Ordo doesn’t eat the cake on Aay’han. He takes the slice, goes out to find the shuttle, and only when he’s in the shuttle cockpit does he pause to eat the cake. This is a moment where Ordo is facing a deep disappointment. He’s being asked to give up the victory he’s dreamed of his entire life just when that victory is in his grasp. He’s being reminded that he’s being constantly coddled and restrained, unable to make the choices he wants.
He manages his disappointment well, but, yes, to an extent, he’s sulking. But, that’s oversimplifying. For Ordo, being sent away now, denying him what he’s ached over for years, needlessly keeping him from danger, must be a genuinely crushing thing. Ordo needs to be comforted. It’s especially called out because Ordo notes: “the comfort effect was immediate”. He talks about cake the in connection with an older one, he talks about feeling saved, he talks about being given hope in hopeless situations.
That is what he needs in this moment. The best moment to give him this comfort is to give him something representative of comfort in his life and is a gift to him from someone he has romantic feelings for. It’s important to see Ordo accept Besany’s gift—and there isn’t any better time to do it than now.
In a smaller moment, at the same time, Ordo is facing an immense and difficult task. He has to get medical aid to Etain on a rural world with limited medical resources, no nearby med droids, all without alerting anyone that she is pregnant. He does not know what to do. He is exiting one stressful moment and entering another stressful moment—he needs to take the time to gather himself so that he can best face the situation before him. If Ordo is stretched thin, emotionally and mentally, if he holds on to the stress from the previous moment, he will not be able to function to the best of his ability for Etain and he will not be focusing properly on the matter at hand. It’s not that he doesn’t care that Etain is suffering, possibly miscarrying; it’s just that he needs to take this moment to calm down before trying to help her, because if he isn’t calm, he cannot help her properly.
He is taking a deep breath here, figuratively. It is a moment where he allows himself to decompress for a moment before moving between strain.
The chapter before this portion, I believe, is not written to maintain tension as well as it does, but from a structural standpoint, having this cheffa cake moment is important. It’s clear that the chapter is supposed to be a tense one that ends on this decompressing note. It is a slow moment, one that allows the reader to catch their breath while Ordo does. It slows momentum, loosens tension, but not in the bad way that the rest of the chapter does.
Narrative cannot be always rising tension, constantly rising, rising, rising, always held taut. That narrative structure is an exhausting one to maintain, and it does not allow events to settle into the reader effectively. Narrative needs to have moments of respite allowing both characters and readers to process moments. It is pulled taut, then relaxed a little, pulled taut, relaxed a little. Allowing the reader to process a shift in Ordo’s direction in the narrative—going from the hunting Ko Sai plotline to being suddenly shunted sideways into Etain’s plotline. It also allows the reader to process the emotion that Ordo feels at this change, ranging from restrained disappointment to fears of his siblings’ resentment at his easier lot.
And, it’s a lot to write for such a small moment in the series, but it’s certainly sometimes an oddly placed one: Ordo, even though he is given a task he says he will handle with utmost urgency, takes the time to eat some cake. But it’s a scene that is a crucial and natural reaction to the severe disappointment Ordo is processing, and, if the rest of the chapter before this moment were written more effectively, is important for the rising tension of narrative.
Ordo eating cheffa cake is his moment of sitting in your car, hands over your face, taking deep breaths, after you walked out of a stressful conversation and before you turn the key to drive into another stressful conversation. He’s processing his stress, and he’s recentering, and he’s gathering himself up before going again into stress.
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haibara ai verses under cut !
harry potter
charlotte “sherry” serra . hogwarts seventh-year , ravenclaw.
atsushi miyano was a kotodama practitioner in japan that her mother met while on a trip to sample local herbs. elena serra owns a famous dermatology/beauty cooperation amongst the magical community. after proposing, her father emmigrated to england to settle down with elena as an associate of serra co.
sherry thought she was doing the right thing by taking on the family business, but soon realised that her family is knee deep in Bad Shit ™
her family set out to craft a magic tincture that could be applied without trace for eternal youth for profits, but soon realized its worth as an untraceable toxin, as it would send many test subjects into a magical induced coma without aging the host.
when she stumbles across this info, what sort of investors are backing the idea and the illegal testing methods serra co. has resorted to, it drives a rift between her and her family. she debates whether to sell the info out to MoM for full immunity for her and her sister, but doesn’t want to drag her sister into the mess.
her sister (emilia) empathises with her, knowing that sherry was fully behind the cause before she found out about its rotten roots. yet, she is very against sherry’s wish to sell out their family.
unknown to sherry, emi knows that the people backing the project are too powerful to face alone, and are pulling the strings of the company. she doesn’t want sherry to get hurt.
dnd / fantasy verses
half-elven, her village was kidnapped by a hidden council that sought to abuse the potential of their natural talents in magic to create an elixir that could grant a being with eternal prosperity, health and longevity.
while this potion was imbued with their magic, what emerged was a untraceable poison that could be exploited to do great damage across the country.
her family is singled out due to the magical talent that runs in the family. when her parents are killed due to magical fatigue, and her sister fakes her death to escape (without her knowledge). thinking that her family is dead, she devises a plan to escape with the potion.
the council members corner her, and with the last of her remaining efforts she manipulates the vial to explode, killing her pursuers.
the magical energy she expended was absorbed by the elixir, and upon returning to her body, the potion channels through her, reverting her into the form of a child
due to the convenient disguise, she’s able to evade the group
she is now in hiding / hoping to seek some protection by offering her magical services. to her dismay, she’s gaining some infamy as a child sorcerer, powerful and mature for her age. she is seeking for a guild or partner to travel with.
fe3h
a former inhabitant of the adrestian empire, charlotte is an extremely proficient mage, with a penchant for dark magic. high mag and res. hidden talent in bows.
father was a dagdan trader who used to travel and sell at different ports before meeting her mother and settling down with her in the empire.
parents ran a faith healing school, but couldn’t help the temptation of capitalizing on various concoctions, including a fast and barely traceable poison that was sold on to mercenary groups.
parents under-estimated the potency of their product, and the product ultimately fell into the wrong hands. they were found responsible for various incidents of mass poisoning, contamination of water supply (or something of the sort) and were executed by the empire.
both her and sister fled the empire, narrowly escaping their parents fate, before seeking refuge under garreg mach.
she currently has the means of continuing her parent’s business and knows how to recreate the poison, yet cannot bring herself to do so. however, with the burgeoning war at hand, she struggles with deciding where her loyalties lie. she has no love for the adrestian empire, but the next empress preaches of a society with no crest-elitism and prejudices.
she has extended family in dagda. she and her sister wish for safe convoy back to dagda if possible, or at least passage to the neighbouring empire of brigid. but under wartime conditions, the prospect is slim.
black butler / victorian
pretty much the same as canon! as her cover job, she works as a nursemaid so she can raid the hospital for supplies that she may need
a part of underground circles who have have an invested interest in her alchemy, in hope to create an elixir of eternal youth.
the queen demands an investigation into the underground rumors that circulate the matter
either that, or, charlotte finds out the group she had been working for had no plans to recompense her for the work and tries to break from the cause
because of it she ingests her own drug and is seeking for refuge (which could be phantomhive/trancy manor, you catch my drift?)
d:bh verse
a laboratory assistant android at cyberlife “ CHERYL cy600 ” that was repurposed by zlatkov after being replaced by newer models and thrown into the junkyard
forced to wait on him and endure his experiments, she finally deviated when he surgically removed her chip and placed it into the body of an inert yk500
she escapes, drugging zlatkov with sleeping pills and taking his car
her skull is mildly deformed, which is why she wears a baseball cap on her head at all times.
tlou / apocalypse verse
joins the fireflies, hoping to manufacture a cure for the infection.
rather than immunity, she ventures off into her own research against the will of the faction
she ends up creating a prototype bioweapon that has the ability to end all the infected ... and most other lifeforms in the process.
horrified, she sabotages her research. but, the fireflies recover samples of her project and seek to recreate the project against her will.
she takes whatever samples are left and flees the base, hiding in abandoned buildings and staying out of sight.
but disbanded fireflies are still on the lookout for her, and she’s worried that the information of her findings could potentially spread to other factions or groups that want to use the weapon for inter-faction violence.
she is sure that given time and resources, she’d manage to isolate the variables and reformulate a weapon to only target the infected. but with ex-fireflies after her for revenge & no allies to trust, she stubbornly remains in hiding.
play style: ranged fighter, fights best w small pistols / bows / throwables, low str and spd, stealth player that is easy overwhelmed by groups
re: general apocalypse - her backstory is the same but the organization chasing after her can be left unknown or interchangeable!
nb : in most of these verses she goes by cheryl / “ sherry ” . in victorian / historical verses , she goes by charlotte . her name is also shiho , but some cultures warrant double names , to fit in better w the social setting .
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For those who may not be aware:
I accidentally deleted my ENTIRE tumblr account on 10/18, losing metric assloads of writing, collected YEARS of aesthetic posts and inspiration, all of my followed blogs, all of my favorite tags, the entire community I was so happy to be part of on this platform.
So I’ve started over because I literally do not have any other choice besides abandon tumblr entirely. :) :) :) :)
(Yes those smileys are passive aggressive; I am shocked that CS couldn’t do ... anything. At all. BUT I DIGRESS.)
With that being said, I’m looking to re-follow as many of the blogs I used to follow as possible, and I’ve done my best to go ahead and get my characters back up and running again.
I don’t tend to like asking for boosts, but for those who don’t mind, I would be grateful so I can begin to get back into the community.
I’ll put my blogroll below a ‘read more’ so this isn’t as obnoxiously huge a wall of text as it could be!
‘Felicie Moreau’
Art by Imon/Pigeons
Botanist, aspiring alchemist; mistrustful sadsack and co-librarian with Val, Felicity, and William of the Blacklight’s archives. Apprentice to Marlis Starling and interim nurse at the Collective’s infirmary. Once known by a different name, now lost to dust. [ grainsofash.tumblr.com , available for in-game RP and Tumblr/Discord/gDocs on request!]
Status: ROLEPLAY MAIN
Sir Odynae ‘Dyna’ Dawnhammer
Art by Raviollies/Six/Imon
The Resolute; a knight in the traditions of the Silver Hand, though that legacy is forgotten by most, if not all. Current ward of the Cathedral, lost and ugly woman with a wide-brimmed hat. She sweeps and sweeps but the recollections never come clean, the floor is always dirtied again… [ theresolute.tumblr.com ; former main, currently not very able to be roleplayed, but it is BEING WORKED ON]
Status: AVAILABLE ON REQUEST
Dolores ‘Dolly’ Keates
Art by Replica-004/Six/1221
Not-a-priest and former ship’s surgeon; mercenary of The Sable Sun Company, buggerer of Dreadlords, lover of rum, Too God Damn Responsible. Keates, the Frequently Bullied; Keates, the Iron Priest. [ theironpriestess.tumblr.com; on hold for the moment, ICly missing in action from the Company, on a mysterious quest to keep a promise to her girlfriend, and to contend with the repercussions of buggering two (2) dreadlords to death (while crying)]
Status: ON THE SHELF
Sister Lisbet Wheeler
Art by Kat
Acolyte of the Church; caseworker and caretaker, nursemaid and counselor, a woman of the Light and of unshakable calm. Always watching, seldom watched. [ loampriest.tumblr.com currently level hecking 20 in-game, available for RP on request both in-game and out but actively involved in storylines with Ludovick and Gauldoth ]
Status: UNINTENDED ACTIVE ALT FUCK MY LIFE
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newfragile yellows [285]
“Ah, Wolf. It's you.”
Ellana raises her eyebrows as she sets down the supplies Stitches had sent her off with next to the Iron Bull’s bed.
“I see no Wolf, here,” Ellana replies.
“Look in a mirror then, or frozen piss, whichever we have closer on hand,” The Iron Bull replies, “I was wondering who it’d be next.”
“Stitches and Dalish got tired of playing nursemaid,” Ellana says, “I think they think that either you’ll let me tend you because I’m new and you’re trying to get me to stay or that you'll go easy on me because you only do it to fuck with them.”
“And what do you think?” Bull says, voice not that much lower than usual, but there is something of a dullness to his usual sharp edge. It’s hidden beneath even more, now.
“I think that maybe you ought to be more discerning of who you take to bed,” Ellana replies, raising her hand towards his head and waiting for him to signal her.
The Iron Bull raises an eyebrow and gestures for her to begin her examination. Healing will never be her forte, but with the sickness that’s been making its rounds and with the tenacity it’s been going, Ellana thinks that maybe the reason they asked her to start assisting in tending the ill is because it might not be sickness they’re looking for.
So when Ellana takes her thick glove off to check his temperature - still high, but not as high as some of the others she’s seen today, possible rebound is to be considered - she also weaves a subtle spell to wash over him and check for signs of foul play. It’s unlikely but not entirely out consideration.
The wave of illness struck in the middle of crossing the Emprise, and they’ve been stuck in the same camp for the past week. But before then they were in Sarnia, and while Sarnia is not exactly a center for people and ideas of great import, it is not entirely off the map.
No signs of poison that she can sense. No signs of foul magic, either.
A regular bout of winter colds and such, then.
“Are you judging me?” The Iron Bull asks, incredulous.
Ellana raises her eyebrows as she pulls a cloth from her inner pocket and coaxes him into raising his head so she can put it around his neck to absorb some of his sweat.
“You are a handsome man of healthy appetites and a fair and clear judgement of ethics, who you take to bed is none of my business except for when that person had just recovered from severe fever and cough,” Ellana replies, “Did you consider possibly waiting a week or two to make sure symptoms were clear before taking him to bed?”
“Alright, hindsight and all that shit,” Bull mumbles. “And when you say all those things about me it sounds downright clinical.”
“It is downright clinical,” Ellana replies. “Sit up, if you can. I’m going to undress you.”
The Iron Bull gives her a flat look.
“Do you want to lie down in your own sweat?”
The Iron Bull slowly sits up and Ellana peels off layers of furs and cloth to expose flushed skin, grumbling under his breath.
“Are you feeling up to another round to keep your mind occupied?” Ellana asks, “Or would you prefer silence?”
“Another round,” The Iron Bull replies immediately. “But you start because I can’t think right now.”
“You put me at an advantage then, should I be concerned?” Ellana says as she carefully checks his arm for any marks of magic - just in case. The Iron Bull slowly opens and closes his fingers.
“Nah,” The Iron Bull shrugs a shoulder, pulling his knee up and hunching over, eye closing as Ellana carefully wipes at his skin with cold cloth. “Feels nice, Wolf.”
“Let’s start there, then. Wolf?”
He shrugs again, “Everyone gets a nickname at some point. Wolf suits you fine. You look like one. Sometimes you even act like one.”
Ah, another question to tuck away for later.
“What a fine pair we are then,” Ellana muses, “A wolf tending to a druffalo."
Bull opens his eye to glare at her.
Ellana smiles at him a she slowly moves around to get to his back.
“I changed my mind, get out of my tent,” He says without any real force. He shifts forward to give her more room to work.
His skin is very warm.
“Does it hurt?” Ellana asks. “And that doesn’t count as part of the game. I hope you realize.”
“It feels raw, but it’s good when you put the cold cloth on,” Bull says, “And yeah, I know it’s not part of it. I wouldn’t count it anyway. That’d be kind of unfair to me. That trick you did, when we were knocking some sense into those dumbass noble brats. The one with the lightning in your hair. Where’d you learn that?”
“Trial and error,” Ellana replies. It takes her a second to remember what he means. She’d allowed a small lightning spell to channel through her hair, through the beads and the cords she’d woven through her braids, causing her hair to rise in a static filled wave, undulating and moving on its own. Like deep black snakes. “A lot of error. I’d gotten the idea from a hedge-mage I’d met towards the Anderfels. He’d used lightning over his skin like an armor shell. A last defense, or a very interesting intimidation tactic.”
Bull laughs, “Nice. Can you do that?”
“I could, but I’d prefer to get rid of my enemies before it becomes necessary,” Ellana answers, going around to his other side. The full weight of his attention, now that she’s on his right, feels heavy in the confines of the tent. “Why do you take in mages? I’m sure it’s gotten you in trouble.”
“Every merc band worth paying for has mages,” He says, “You need the leg up. I don’t think I’m the first person to hire you.”
It’s not a question, so it doesn’t need an answer.
“No, but you are the first that is so comfortable with me,” Ellana answers anyway. The last time she had signed on with a band of mercenaries she felt like she was moments away from being either thrown to the Templars or worse. She had made as much coin as she needed and left.
“Are you comfortable with us?” The Iron Bull asks.
Ellana goes to search through his things for new blankets or skins. She’ll clean and air out the other ones after this with the others she’d gathered from the other patients she’s treating with Stitches and Dalish and the other surgeons and healers the Chargers has on their roster.
“Yes,” Ellana says.
After she has the Iron Bull settled again she sits next to him and pulls out the braid she had started. It’s much longer now. It would be useful as a necklace, perhaps. Or maybe some sort of wrap for an arm brace.
She’ll stay until he sleeps. Dalish and Stitches told her that if she was in here no one would bother her, and that she could use the rest. Also that the Iron Bull gets bored very easily if left on his own when he’s sick and it was really best for all of them if she just stayed with him to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble. Apparently he can get very introspective when he has a fever and is stuck in one place for too long.
The Iron Bull snags at her cloak as she’s considering what else she should put into her leather cord.
“Stay with us in spring,” He says. “With the thaw there’s going to be worse shit an we’ll be moving back up towards the North. Might pass through some contested land. We’ll need the help.”
Ellana decides to put a very light enchantment for enhanced durability so she can start working on some deeper magic. If she’s going to make this thing any longer she might as well start investing some serious magic into it.
“Ask me again when spring comes,” Ellana says and the Iron Bull lets out a quiet almost laugh. “Sleep well, the Iron Bull.”
“With the Wolf keeping watch?” The Iron Bull replies, “Can’t imagine another way to sleep.”
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