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#unaccompanied queen
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Whiny King
Anon request:
More Hal please
Wordcount: 2.4K+
Description: Reader is sick of not getting respected as Queen and Hal is just sick
A/N: More from Unaccompanied Trope. This is soon after their wedding, before UA. I saw some photos of Timmy as Hal and had to write this. 
Warning: Dagger, but that is a given with them. Fluff, mention of blood.
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Your Majesty, the Queen says you must eat this?” The young maid said shakily to your husband, who should be laying in bed, but instead sat at his desk in your outer room, going over reports with one of his advisors.
He completely ignore her and her hands began to shake as she moved closer to him, thinking he didn’t hear her. “Y-Your Majesty ?” She asked timidly.
With the quickness of a snail, Hal dragged his eyes from the papers to the shaking woman, holding a pot of soup. His dark eyes pierced through her and she wanted to cry the longer he stared at her.
“T-The Queen,” she started again, be he scoffed waving her away.
“Leave my room,” he said leaving no room for discussion.
With a clumsy bow and a nod, she flew from the room. The moment she was far away from the room she let out a sob. She had no idea what she was going to do. She was sent to make sure the king was resting and not to leave until he finished the bowl. 
He refused both of those things, he was holding meetings and sent her way. She was too afraid to go back in. Who was she to demand anything of the King of England, but she didn’t want to return to the Queen as a failure. 
While the King was terrifying, always rash, yelling, and murdering, there was something even more unsettling about the queen, she was sly, calm, and always calculating.  Taking a shaking breath, she wiped her face and made her way to the throne room where she knew the Queen waited for her.
The moment she walked into the room, you glared at her. The bowl was clearly still full. Between the members of the counsels not listening to you and now a maid that can’t do her job, you were at your end.
Hal was sick. Very sick, rather he liked to admit it or not, and needed rest. Of course, your husband was stubborn and has been refusing to stop working long enough to get better.
“Well don’t just stand there, come here,” you said to the maid. All the Counsel went quiet at your words and all watching as she slowly made her way to you.
“He refused to eat the soup, milady,” she said, bowing at your feet, holding the pot of soup out to you.
“Of course he did. Still, you have barely been gone, you didn’t try very hard,” you said with an edge to your voice, though you were more annoyed with Hal than her.
“I’m sorry, Milady I did not wish to fail you,” she said letting another sob ring out. It echoed off the quiet walls and a counsel member chuckled.
“Is something amusing, Jameson?” You asked turning your attention to him. His eyes widen for a moment, but he, like most of the men, refused to let you see that you frightened them, instead he grinned lazily. “Nothing is amusing, do you find something amusing?” He asked.
You dig your hands into the side of the throne before, tilting your head from side to side. You stared around the room before chuckling. “Yes, I do find something amusing,” you said as you laughed louder, though there was no humor in your voice.
The maid sobbed more and the members shuffled uncomfortably as you continued to laugh. One brave member cleared his throat, “Your Highness, may I ask with is so amusing?”
You instantly stopped laughing and looked at him. “I’m so glad one of you was brave enough to ask. I was just picturing Jameson going to serve the soup to My King,” you said, giggling as the words let.
Jameson's eyes widened and he stood. “I-I…” He stopped when you turned away from him. “Give him the soup, he will deliver it to the King.” You smiled softly to the maid, before glaring at him, daring him to defy you.
Getting off shaking knees, the maid took the soup over to him. For a moment he stared at the pot without taking it, but another glance in your direction, where you had causally taken out your dagger had him second guessing. 
His eyes then fell to your dress. Your dress was tight, tighter than he was seen outside of whorehouse. Your breast spilled out of the top and he stared for a moment, he couldn’t help himself, as afraid of you he was, he was more attracted to you.
You noticed where his stare was. You were taking notes of who stared at your chest and how many times. “Oh Jameson while you are there make sure to tell the King how much you enjoy my dress today, he would love to know that,” You said, getting off the throne and walking toward him.
“I doubt the King cares to know my opinion on f-fashion, Your Highness,” he said in a beg, but you didn’t care if he got on his knees and cried, you were sick of the disrespect you got when Hal was not around.
“I don’t believe I asked. That was an order.” You said. “Go with him and make sure that he does it,” you said, dismissing both him and the maid as you walked back to your throne.
When the door closed behind them, you grinned at the rest of the room. “Now I understand all of you are used to dealing with the King and his father and women were barely seen or heard, but things are different, and I will either get your respect or take it but know I might take something else too, just pray it isn’t your favorite appendage.”
There was a silence that followed your words. And you grinned wickedly at them. “Do we have an understanding?”
A chorus of agreement followed when a scream ranged out from somewhere in the palace. You chuckled, picking your nails with your dagger. “Huh. It seems like Jameson was right, the King did not enjoy his opinion on fashion.”
When you returned to your room half an hour later the pot of soup lay spilled on the floor. Jameson's eye was bandaged, but still heavily bleeding, as he and the maid worked to clean up the blood and soup from the floor.
“Oh dear, you don’t have to help him, Jameson is a big boy, you are dismissed,” you said smiling warmly at her.
Smiling nervously, she got to her feet, bowing before leaving. You watched her go. You will need to talk to Hal about giving her a raise, the poor thing was scared shitless of the two of you. 
Turning to Jameson you grinned. “What happened here?” You asked with fake sincerity.
He was smart enough to keep his head low and his eyes, well eye, on the mess he was cleaning. “His Majesty was practicing his skills with his dagger, it found its way into my eye,” he mumbled.
“Oh, dear. He must be terribly sick if his dagger found its way into just one of your eyes. When he is feeling better I’ll personally make sure he rectifies it,” you said, patting his head.
His hands balled into fists as he nodded, “That would be wonderful, Your highness.”
“It’s actually Your Majesty as well. We are both are rulers  of this country. You should pass that around to everyone else, I won’t waste my breath doing it, but please let them know I won’t put up with anything else.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, getting to his feet and leaving the room. Grinning happily, you asked the guard at the door to send for more soup before going into your bed chamber to find your husband.
You found Hal sitting in the bath, half awake. Gasping softly, you ran to his side. “My King?” You whispered, running your hands through his hair, which was wet, but from the water or the sweat, you were unsure about.
His eyes opened slightly at your touch. A soft, high-pitched whined answered your words.  You sighed, half relieved, half sad, and all annoyed. “You never listen to me, do you? Look at yourself. You could have slipped under the water and died. You stubborn, stubborn man,” you scowled, grabbing a cloth and washing his face.
Hal whined again, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. He was burning up and too weak for you to scowl anymore, but when he was better he was going to get a tongue lashing.
“It’s fine, well it’s not fine, but I’m here now, don’t worry. My King, nothing will happen to you. You should have eaten the soup and rested as I said, you wouldn’t be this sick, but I care more about getting you better,” You said, helping him out of the tub.
He leaned heavily on your shoulder, slipping on his pants before collapsing onto the bed. You sat on the edge of the bed, patting his cheek and running your fingers through his hair.
“Tell me what hurts?” You asked.
“I’m just a little weak, My Queen. I overdid it today, I should have rested. You always know best,” he said, grasping the hand that was touching his cheek. “What would I do without you?” He smiled.
“Die, that is exactly what you would do,” you grinned.
“I heard you speaking with Jameson, I’m sure he will be having some hellish dreams about you,” he said, glowing with pride.
“I am not the one that took his eye out with a dagger, Hal.”
“You will be the one to take the other eyes. After all, what better way to learn to respect women than having  punishment from a woman,” he said.
“Ah, and here I thought you were too tired to take out the other one,” you teased.
“That too, but mainly the first reason. He and every person in this palace need to know you are the Queen, mine and theirs and they will respect you, or die.”
“I love it when you say things like that. They will respect you as well, or I’ll be personally involved with correcting their foolishness.”
You both grinned widely at each other, holding eye contact until there was a knock on the door. You stood to go answer when Hal tightened his hold on your hand. “No don’t leave my side,” he pouted, whining softly.
“Oh, shush you whiny King, I’ll only be a moment,” You said, leaving the bed chambers only to return a few moments later with a fresh bowl of soup. Hal was laying on his side, his chest moving slowly. You barely were gone, but he was already asleep.
Putting the soup on the side table, you climbed into bed with your husband, wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging yourself to him. While your marriage was still young and your rule as King and Queen was new, you knew it would be okay as long as you had him by your side.
Loving Hal was not what you thought would happen when you married, you both hated each other, which turned into rage sex, and somewhere it wasn’t rage sex, but passionate sex, and not leaving the room when you finished, but holding each other, talking and now you never wanted to part from him.
“I love you,” you whispered into his shoulder. “So very much, my sun, my moon, my day and my night,”
Hal whined in his sleep, turning in your arms, burying his face into your chest. You held him closely for a few minutes, not wanting to wake him, but he needed to get something in his stomach.
“Hal, my darling, you have to wake up,” you said, kissing his forehead repeatedly.
“Allow me to rest. I thought I needed it,” he argued, pouting into your breasts.
“You also need to eat, to get your strength back.” You replied.
“Will you feed me?”
“Of course, My King.”
Hal was silent for a moment. You thought he maybe had fallen back asleep, but soon he pulled his face from his chest and sat up a bit. 
Grabbing the bowl, you moved to sit next to him.
“No,” he protested. “Sit on my lap.”
Fondly rolling your eyes you moved to sit on his lap, letting your dress pool around you both. “I hope you know you are like a pouting child right now, Hal.”
He didn’t reply just opened his mouth for a spoonful of soup. Chuckling you fed him, what better way to make sure he is eating besides feeding him yourself.  Hal looked so soft and cuddly, unlike the hard King most people saw, you were happy to see this side of your husband.
“I like this side of you, so whiny and soft,” you commented as you fed him.
“You take good care of me,” He smiled.
“It’s because it’s my job because I love you so much.”
Hal’s eyes closed for a moment, he took a shaky breath before opening his eyes, which were misty. “There is nothing in this world I need more than your love. You are a gift and I love you so much.”
Hal sits up more, taking the soup and putting it on the table, grabbing your hips, pulling you closer. “My Queen, you are the heart and soul of this kingdom and you are the key to my happiest,” mumbled, before kissing you. 
Kissing back, you bit his lower lip, causing him to groan and his mouth opened slightly letting you in to explore his mouth. Taking control of the kiss, you grabbed the back of his neck as you explored his mouth, nipping and biting on everything you could. Hal surrendered to your kiss, whining and moaning the whole time. He held your body close to his, hands desperate to touch your skin.
“Hal, you need rest,” you said breaking away for you both to breathe. 
“I need you, badly.., desperately,” he said, reconnecting your lips. You allowed him to kiss you for a bit more before pulling away and pushing his shoulders until he was laying down.
His eyes were dark and swimming with lust, but you could still see the fatigue in them. “You need rest, Hal. When you are better you can show me how desperately you need me,” you said moving from his lap, ignoring his protest and hands grabbing for you.
“Rest, My King,” you said, fixing your dress.”
“Rest with me,” he asked, with wide, needy eyes.
“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of leaving you,” You took off your dress, changing into one of his tunics before slipping back into bed with him, resting your head on his chest.
“When I’m better, I want to hear in detail all the threats you delivered today,” he mumbled, into your hair.
Laughing you pressed a kiss over his heart. “I will tell you in full, it does involve my dagger and cutting off a certain appendage,”
“That’s my Queen.”
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written-in-flowers · 5 months
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Be the Light: Pt. 3 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)
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Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.
Word Count: 6k
Genre: angst, fluff, smut
AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au
Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.
Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.
Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearltinyy @raviollirin
Huge thanks to my lovely beta reader @daesukiii 💕💕
Part 2 < | > Part 4
***
The palace temple was built by the first King of Hanseong, one of Sookmyung’s ancestors, many years ago. Walking through the temple’s zen garden, a small pond area guarded by stone statues of gods, Hongjoong and Seonghwa did not meet anyone during their walk. Hardly anyone visited the palace temple anymore, and since Sookmyung did not care about it, the area became overgrown by wildlife and dense foliage. Both men struggled to find the path at times, and once or twice one of them ran into garden snakes. But, eventually they saw the stone and wood structure in the middle of a clearing. Hongjoong saw a stone buddha statue eroded by age and weather in front of several kneeling cushions on the ground. The place overall carried a tranquil silence that he worried might break at the slightest sound. He’d expected they’d be alone, but he’d been wrong. 
Sitting in her usual wheelchair, Queen Mother Jisoo sat with her hands folded over her lap and head bowed in prayer. On a cushion beside her was Chaewon, her handmaiden. This sudden appearance of Sookmyung’s mother raised their suspicions. The small offerings placed in front of the statue implied she visited often, and she appeared entirely at peace. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa, and saw the caution in his eyes. They walked slowly and quietly behind the two women, taking their own cushions and sitting in silence. Hongjoong wondered how long the pair planned to be here. What if their contact backs away because he saw Jisoo and Chaewon? Then, he’d never learn of their plan. He’d considered leaving and waiting in the bushes before another figure joined them. 
Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik. He came unaccompanied this time, in his usual official robes and gat. A quick glance to them with a bow was returned before he took a cushion beside Hongjoong. Another person to scare off his contact. Hongjoong had given Seonghwa a look before Jisoo spoke first. 
“What do you pray for, Hongjoong?” 
Jisoo’s voice broke the garden’s tranquil silence, as soothing as the water falling into the pond nearby. Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at one another, then at Wonshik, who smiled serenely with his head bowed. Chaewon showed a similar expression, not looking over at him or anyone else. He thought about what he could possibly say to Sookmyung’s mother. It’d be wrong to tell her ‘your daughter’s downfall’ out loud and to her face.
“For home,” Seonghwa said from beside him.
Hongjoong whipped his head over to him, but Jisoo spoke first. “As do all of us,” she beckoned Chaewon to stand, and the woman moved to turn her chair around and face them. The lines around her mouth and her eyes showed signs of a woman who’d laughed and lived well. Her eyes, while similar to Sookmyung, did not hold viciousness but rather warmth. 
She smiled at them both, “This country is my home. I spent many years of my life dedicated to leaving it better than when I first came into power. I pray for its safety and wellbeing every morning, afternoon, and night. I pray that the crops will be fruitful this harvest, and that we will never see another war or famine again. My prayers are the only thing left to me since my daughter was crowned queen.”
“It is the only thing many of us have left,” added Wonshik. “I pray for strength,” he told them, “And for patience. I pray that one day the dignity of The Crown is restored, and that when people see our banners, they do not cower in fear but instead feel comforted.”
“I pray for the good health of the people,” said Chaewon, “And for the protection of my daughter, YN.”
“As we should,” said Wonshik.
Suddenly everything made sense. He looked over at Chaewon, then Wonshik, then at Jisoo.
“We may speak plainly,” Jisoo declared. “I told the guards to leave this place, and this temple has been banned since Sookmyung became queen. This means you can remove those ridiculous veils and let me see your handsome faces."
Tentatively, Hongjoong and Seonghwa removed their veils and Jisoo beamed brightly at them. She examined Seonghwa first, clearly admiring his jawline and wide eyes. Hongjoong saw her nod her head in approval. 
"Just as handsome as you are intelligent," she concluded. "One might have thought you'd been sculpted by gods if they saw you." 
Seonghwa bowed his head appreciatively. She did the same with Hongjoong, studying his features closely. His cheeks blushed being observed like a painting or statue sold at auction. He looked over to Wonshik, who appeared to be doing the same from where he sat. But, it was Chaewon who spoke.
"He looks like a true prince, doesn't he, Your Majesty?" She grinned fondly. 
"No, not a prince," Jisoo said. She met his eyes when she said, "A king." 
Her words left him speechless. He eyed her closely, searching for a lie in her face. This woman is Sookmyung’s mother; her being part of a resistance against her sounded too good to be true. Hongjoong never knew Jisoo to scold or criticize her daughter. More often than not, she remained neutral and kept to herself in the palace. Seeing The Queen Mother was rarer than seeing a concubine. He couldn’t imagine her wanting to depose her own child. When she moved away, he spoke. 
“What did we meet here for?” he asked her, “To talk of prayers? Changbin’s message mentioned another heir.”
“How can that be?” Seonghwa asked after him. 
“Sookmyung has a twin sister.”
The news shocked the two men. “A twin?” Hongjoong furrowed his brow, “Where? How? If there is someone walking around with Sookmyung’s face, then they would’ve been found before now.” 
“I married King Siwon when I was nineteen-years-old,” she started. “Being the King, Siwon had a multitude of responsibilities. I only had one: to produce heirs for the throne. I’m sad to say it was the only thing I could not do. Siwon and I spent five years of our marriage trying for a child, and failing. Every pregnancy I did have never carried to term or came out ill and died or was a stillborn,” Hongjoong saw the discomfort in her face speaking about it. “I felt like a failure. I loved Siwon, and I knew how much he wanted a child, and I’d disappointed him. Those snakes at court began whispering that perhaps I was barren or I had a disease preventing me from having a healthy child. I had to do something. I knew if I failed to produce an heir, they might demand an annulment and Siwon and I would be separated forever.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I prayed,” she answered. “I prayed right here in this temple. Chaewon was there,” she lifted a hand which Chaewon took in her own, “And she prayed with me. I prayed for fertility, for a healthy child, and to bring honor to my family. The next time Siwon and I made love, a month later I was declared pregnant. I spent most of my pregnancy bed ridden, since I feared the slightest movement might make me lose the child inside me. The physicians checked on me night and day, giving me herbal teas and acupuncture treatments for the baby. It was a painful experience, but Siwon said the result would be worth the struggle.” She then said, “Then, on the fourteenth night on the eighth moon twenty-four years ago, I finally gave birth to my child. She came into the world crying and screaming, and by all accounts was perfectly healthy. I’d done my duty to my family, and I’d finally gotten the one thing I’d always wanted: a child.
“But then, I felt another pain and the physician said I was going into labor again. Out came a second girl, quieter than the first and whimpering softly, but also completely healthy. Siwon saw the crisis before anyone else did. He said he’d seen dynasties be torn apart by a succession dispute…” she paused, gulping thickly as she said, “And said one of the girls would have to go.”
“What? That’s awful,” said Seonghwa softly. “He forced you to part from your own child to avoid a war over the throne?”
“That’s what he believed he was doing,” she replied. Chaewon put both her hands on Jisoo’s shoulders, and the queen touched one of them still. “I knew he was right. My own family went through a similar struggle when my father died, and I did not wish to see my children be torn apart because of a silly chair. I told my husband I understood his reasoning, but I did not wish to be fully separated from my child. I begged him to let the girl remain in the palace; I told him we can pass her off as somebody’s else’s child, and nobody would have to know outside of a select few. The girls looked nothing alike, so it wasn’t as if anyone would suspect.” 
Hongjoong sensed the end of this story, and he couldn’t believe it at all. 
“Then, I turned to my closest friend,” she smiled up at Chaewon, “Who’d held my hand throughout my labors and been there every step of the way. She’d suffered similar fertility issues with her husband, who couldn’t produce enough sperm to give her a child. I offered the younger of the two to her,” she looked back at them, “And she’d live as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s daughter instead.”
“YN…” your name escaped his lips softly. “No, that’s…YN and Sookmyung could not be any different from one another. Firstly, their appearances alone are vastly different, and their demeanors…YN, she’s…She’s too sweet to have shared a womb with a monster like Sookmyung. How would you have kept this from other servants? Gossip spreads in this place like wildfire. If Queen Jisoo had two twins, people would have known in seconds.” 
“And if Chaewon didn’t have a child one day, was never pregnant, and suddenly produced one,” added Seonghwa, “Might raise suspicions.” 
“I told people my husband and I adopted a baby from the city orphanage,” Chaewon said. 
“And the only people in the birthing room that night were myself, the king, the physician, Chaewon and Wonshik,” Jisoo replied. “Everyone involved was sworn to secrecy. Physician Yoon passed away some years after the twins’ birth, so it was one less person. Han YN became Park YN, and she has lived as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s adopted daughter ever since. I demanded that YN and Sookmyung live side-by-side like sisters, being companions as children before YN became her handmaiden.” 
“It was His Majesty’s wish that YN be educated alongside Sookmyung,” said Wonshik. “I think when Sookmyung’s nature began to show, he started regretting his decision to separate the twins. I suggested he reveal his deception to the people, and claim YN as his daughter, but he refused. He was too proud to admit he’d made a mistake, and too optimistic that Sookmyung’s wild behavior was a phase she’d grown out of in adulthood.”
“He also feared what Sookmyung might do if she found out she had a sister,” Jisoo admitted to them. “You two saw what she’d done to those who had claims to the throne, no matter how distant. I knew telling her would put YN’s life in danger.”
“Then why are you bringing this to light now?” asked Hongjoong, appalled by their confessions. “Sookmyung is the queen. She is the most powerful person in the country. She has men who will torture and kill people at the first word, and will not hesitate to do it herself. She’ll kill YN and get away with it,” he couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “We can’t let anyone else know. If Sookmyung should ever think YN is-”
“-Sookmyung needs to be stopped,” Jisoo cut him off firmly. “I love my daughter. I have loved her despite her faults and wrongdoings. I did my best to raise her to be a proper lady of the realm, and prepare her for her ascension. But, I must accept the truth: my daughter is not the person I’d hoped she’d become.”
“She never was,” said Wonshik. “Ever since her girlhood, Queen Sookmyung has been vicious, manipulative, aggressive and cruel. You cannot deny this, Your Majesty,” he told her, “I told your husband that naming Sookmyung his heir would be a mistake.”
“Then who would he have named? His incompetent brother? His people-pleasing sister?” she snapped at him. “I don’t know if you remember, Senior Advisor, but my daughter had most of my husband’s family killed during the war. There are so few claimants left, and they’d be too frightened to challenge Sookmyung.” She turned back to Hongjoong, “YN is our only hope at saving this kingdom from open warfare.”
“Warfare? Do you believe the rebels are strong enough to engage?” asked Seonghwa, sitting back on his haunches and putting a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “From what I’ve always understood the rebel forces to be ill equipped and nothing more than commoners with pitchforks?”
“And that is the exact image we want Sookmyung to have,” Wonshik told him. “I can assure you that the rebels are more than farmers and fishermen. Her Majesty and I have managed to rally some supporters from the other cities. Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang have all given their support to our cause, and minor lords in Gangwon-do and Jeju-do gave theirs as well. I have close friends here at court who will be on YN's side when we finally usurp Sookmyung.” 
“It will not be an easy transition, Senior Advisor,” said Seonghwa. “The people only know Sookmyung; they do not know YN. If they hear she is a twin, they may assume she shares Sookmyung’s behaviors. I don’t know if you’re aware, sir, but Sookmyung forces YN to participate in the torture and abuse a majority of the time. It’s a strange intimacy the both of them have. They might believe she’s the same or worse.”
“Which is why we must show them that YN is tender-hearted and gentle,” he replied. “Have her go into the city, meet her people and speak to them face-to-face. Reinstate the protection laws and charities Sookmyung banned or removed. She can repair damages done across the kingdom and lower taxation and those ridiculous tributes Sookmyung demands. The people will see that she is vastly different from their previous queen.”
“And she’ll have something Sookmyung has not had in the eight years of her reign,” said Jisoo. “The thing her advisors have hounded her about for years.”
“What?”
“A husband,” she eyed Hongjoong when she said this. “Not only a husband, but a husband who’d been a prince of Wonju, the rebel base and rallying point of the rebellion.”
“Should peace be restored, I’d return to Wonju to rule,” said Hongjoong. “My whole family is dead. There’d be nobody to take my place.”
“That is not entirely true, young prince,” Wonshik said. “There is your cousin, Jeongin.”
“Jeongin?” He lifted an eyebrow. Hongjoong remember his youngest cousin, and said, “He was killed by Sookmyung’s guards the day they sacked the city.”
“No, he wasn’t,” he said. “Wonju loyalists managed to smuggle him out right as the fighting began. He has been living in the countryside ever since. The people in charge of him have been preparing him to be your steward in Wonju. You would be here with YN, ruling at her side, while giving him control of Wonju in your place.” When he saw Hongjoong’s hesitation, he added, “Jeongin is the same kind, caring boy you remember. He would make a great steward.”
“And it’d rebuild the alliance Wonju and Hanseong once had,” said Jisoo. “I don’t believe Wonju’s bannermen would agree to any ties with Hanseong without a marriage pact. Even if you have not been in Wonju, the people there still stand with you, Hongjoong. You are their king. You can be my daughter’s king consort, be at her side and guide her.” She then grinned slyly, "Unless you do not want her?” 
"Of course I do," he blurted out without thinking. "I mean, I do like her. I think YN could be a good queen with the right counsel, but Sookmyung…" 
Hongjoong did not want to imagine what horrors she'd have in store for you. Sookmyung held you very close to her heart. Should she believe you're conspiring against her, she'll see it as the deepest of betrayals. Hongjoong refused to let her dangle you from a ceiling or shove you in a horrific box. He'd kill her before he let that happen. 
"What are your plans for Sookmyung?" Seonghwa asked when Hongjoong failed to respond. 
"She will be arrested and put on trial," said Wonshik 
"On what charges?"
"Crimes she committed during the war," he explained. "The murder and torture of prisoners of war,  purposefully attacking civilian towns and taking hostages are only a few named."
"You cannot arrest a queen."
"You can if she has been deposed," he corrected him. "If the council decides Sookmyung is unfit as queen, she will be replaced by YN, therefore removing her titles. Up until now, most of the officials feared retaliation from her for speaking out, but I have convinced the Head Advisors to join me."
"Is she not supposed to be there when the ruling is made? That is part of the law."
"Smart boy," Wonshik smiled at him, "But there is a loophole in this law."
"Is there?"
"The ruling monarch does not have to be present for every council meeting," he said, "And Sookmyung never comes to any of them. We always come to decisions on our own, and present them to her for approval."
"And this ruling can be made during one of these meetings," concluded Seonghwa. "She will not go quietly, you know. She will try to flee."
"We have no doubt about that," he replied. "Do not worry. I have many things in place to make sure she is detained."
"And when is this supposed to happen?"
"Tonight."
"Tonight? So soon? Why?"
"Because it is crucial we do it as soon as possible," he said. “Her Majesty will set up a place for Sookmyung to be, we will wait until she is unsuspecting, and then confront her. We will have supporters around us to step in if need be.” 
"The only person we are waiting on is you, Your Grace," Jisoo said to him gently. "Will you accept my daughter’s hand in marriage and be her king consort? Help us reunite the kingdoms and restore peace?" 
His eyes began to sting. Nobody had called him 'Your Grace' in a very long time. He didn't think he'd ever be called that again. Thinking deeply, Naeun came to mind. If he refused, everything she suffered would be for nothing. He remembered her lifeless body laying on the hard straw, broken bones protruding from her skin and her eye swollen shut. She died with the hope that one day her home will be as she remembered. Hongjoong then thought of you. As your king consort, he could be around you whenever he liked. He could speak to you, laugh with you, kiss and hold you the way he dreamed. You would be his, and you could restore the kingdom together. 
"Yes," he nodded. "Yes, I will."
For home.
****
"-He kept crying all the way back," she huffed. "I thought, being a man, that he'd have a higher tolerance for it."
You knelt at Sookmyung’s side by the low dining table. The afternoon light shone in through the open windows, their borders creating shapes on the floors. Along with it came a cool spring breeze that kissed your warm cheeks. You hated it when Sookmyung recounted her nights in the dungeon. It sickened your stomach, and only brought on more haunting visions. You laddled egg soup into a bowl for her, stirred it around a few times, then placed it in front of her. 
“You’re a woman and you have a stronger stomach than him,” she said, spooning soup into her mouth. 
“I am sure Hongjoong was only overwhelmed by experiencing so much so quickly,” you told her. You sliced toasted bread, putting a small pot of honey and jaw in front of her. “You should have started small, perhaps The Box or The Bull. You know, an act he doesn’t see but hears instead. It lets his mind fill in the blank spaces.” 
“Hm,” she mused, sipping more soup from her bowl, “I suppose you’re right. I may have been a bit hasty in my excitement to show him the chamber. I thought…” she hesitated, “I thought he might understand. I thought he’d enjoy it the way we do.” She pondered over her soup, pushing the strings of egg with her spoon. “I was wrong.” You saw her fingers grip the spoon tightly, her eyes narrowed at the bowl as it’d wronged her.
“Things like the dungeon take a bit of getting used to,” you told her. “I am sure with time, he will come to enjoy it with you.” 
You sat back on your legs and watched her eat. Your own stomach growled quietly, and rumbled in your gut the longer you lingered on the food. The porridge you’d eaten this morning had since been digested, and left you hungry again. You did not know what plans Sookmyung had for the day, since she never concerned herself with the day-to-day work of a queen. The advisors usually held meetings in the morning, then approached her with their decisions some time in the day. Having started her day late, you’re sure they’ll wait until much later to discuss any rulings they’ve made. A part of you believed the council made decisions and put them into action without Sookmyungs’s knowledge sometimes. It is not as if she cared anyway.
“You’re the only person I can share my chambers with,” she said. “You’re the only one who understands.”
Unfortunately, she was right. While Sookmyung’s ‘experiments’ and ‘delights’ haunted your dreams and churned your stomach, you’d begun to understand why she must hurt others. It made sense when you thought about it. Relishing in the pain of others gave her a gratification she couldn’t find anywhere else. Hurting them, controlling when the pain began and ended simulated a power reserved for gods, and not men. You often stood by as she forcibly shoved a man into a box full of venomous scorpions and spiders, and saw the glee in her face. You’d see her carve a man’s face off to place maggots on the red flesh, then stand to watch him writhe in agony. It was abhorrent to anyone else. It was fun for Sookmyung. The fact that her treasured flower did not revel in the torture with her must’ve upset her deeply. Hongjoong having cried at whatever befell the assassin angered Sookmyung. Watching her stir her soup around before eating it, you worried she might decide she no longer wants Hongjoong.
He may end up in The Box next. 
“Will you take him back there?” you asked her, pouring milk into a cup for her to drink.
“I wanted to, but the assassin died in the night,” she scoffed. She ate another piece of kimchi, chewing on the fermented vegetable before saying, “You should have seen her, YN. I think you would have admired her resistance.”
“Did she reveal any information to you?”
“No,” she shook her head, “Those rebel bastards should start finding smarter people. The guards say they found her climbing over the garden wall, waiting in the trees by the corner. You’d think an assassin might be smarter than that.”
“Hubris,” you said, “That was her mistake.”
She grinned, “And stupidity. What made her think she could ever possibly put her knife to my throat?”
“Pride or desperation. One of the two, I suspect.” 
Sookmyung then changed to another topic, a smirk lifting a corner of her mouth, “You never answered me last night.”
“Your Majesty?” you dug your nails into your skirt. Another test was coming, you knew it.
“I asked if San was your type.”
“I told you he was not, Your Majesty.”
Your cheeks burned recalling the previous night. You are certain Sookmyung had no intention of letting you lay with one of her flowers. She only wanted to embarrass you further in front of people. Like with her victims, she controlled your life. She’d also control any lover you took up. She’d kill them if she didn’t approve.
“YN, I cannot find you a proper husband unless you tell me,” she said irritably. She then sneered, “Or, maybe, you don’t like men at all.”
“Wha-what?” your eyes widened at the implication, and you shook your head. “Your Majesty, I assure you I do prefer me-”
“-There is nothing wrong with liking the same sex, YN. There are places all over the world where women couple with women,” she cupped your chin so you looked at her. Her thumb traced your bottom lip line as she said, “I sometimes wish I’d been the boy my father had wanted. Then, this marriage situation could be easily solved.” She moved away from her bowl to sit closer to you. You shivered as her fingers pushed stray strands of hair away, “I could marry the prettiest, loveliest woman I know, and make her mine.” When you looked away in embarrassment, she cackled, “Such a flustered little virgin. There is so much you do not know.”
“Your Majesty…”
“It’s sweet.”
The sound of footsteps made you jump away from her, but she stayed in place. A knock on the door made her grunt frustratedly.
“Go see who it is, YN,” she said, “Then tell them to leave. We have places to be later, and I need to get dressed.”
You were all too eager to go. You are not a naive child. You know women can be romantic with other women; there is nothing wrong with that. You’d seen Sookmyung nude many times over the course of your servitude, and you wouldn’t say she was ugly by any means. Any true naive person would think she is a goddess with her slender curves and hips. The only problem for you was that said woman is sadistically evil. You reached the door, and slid it open to reveal your mother and Queen Jisoo.
“Your Majesty,” you said, heat rising in your cheeks again as you bowed, “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”
“My daughter,” she replied stiffly. “Is she finally awake?”
“She is,” you nodded, “But she has a busy schedule ahead of her, so she must be getting dressed now.”
“Psh, as if that will stop me,” she replied. “Chaewon, wheel me in.” 
With a beckoning gesture over her shoulder, your mother wheeled Jisoo into the room where Sookmyung sat on cushions by the low breakfast table. You trailed behind, not meeting her eyes, and remaining silent.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” Sookmyung said with a false grin, “I hope you’re feeling better. YN was just telling me you hadn’t eaten much yesterday.” A lie that Queen Jisoo did not believe for a second.
“I am, darling daughter,” she said, “But my health is not why I’ve come here. I am here to tell you that you are to clear your afternoon schedule today.”
“Why is that?”
“I have invited lords from Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang as well as sons of your bannermen to our banquet pavilion today. It is about time you stopped fiddling with those poor concubines of yours and settled down with a husband.”
Sookmyung glared at her, “I do not want a husband.”
“I’m afraid that your wishes are no longer a concern to anyone. You are a queen, and a queen must have a king.”
“I do not want a king.”
“Why? Because then you’d have to actually share your power with someone? Because there will finally be someone restraining these ghastly, deviant urges of yours?” her mother accused. “I have made excuses for your behavior for years and years, Sookmyung. When people at court called you improper and promiscuous, I told them you shared your father’s fiery passion. When they said your conquest brought nothing but poverty to your people, I said that you united the kingdoms under one rule and brought forth strength to our armies. Even when you rebuilt the dungeons, to toy and defile people you deemed criminals, I told them that you were passionate about justice.” You heard the frustration rising in her voice, and flaring in her dark eyes. “People have begun to talk, Sookmyung. They say that one day soon, you’ll become pregnant with an illegitimate child and bring shame to our throne.”
“Who cares?” Sookmyung groaned, “Any child I bare would have my blood. Why would that make them unworthy?”
“Because a bastard has never sat on our throne-”
“-I don’t want them, so why does this matter?”
Jisoo sighed, “Sookmyung, I understand your hesitancy to marry. I had my reservations when my mother approached me, but I made it work. I did my duty to my country and my family.” Her eyes shifted over to you, sad and full of regret. It struck you as strange. “But, in order for our family to continue, you must produce a legitimate child. A child of royal, noble blood.”
“I hate children,” she spat, glaring back at her mother, “They’re whiny, snotty, and annoying.”
“You’ll feel differently when you have a child of your own.”
Sookmyung then gave her mother a grin that unsettled you. It was the same mischievous smile she’d given when she misbehaved. She stood up from her seat, and said, “But, what if I have found true love at last, Mother? What if I have found someone I wish to spend my life with?”
“You-You have? Who?” the queen asked, shocked.
Sookmyung moved over to you, standing behind you with arms around your waist. She placed her head on your shoulder as she said, “YN.”
Jisoo scoffed, “Oh please, Sookmyung. You cannot marry YN; she is a woman.”
“Women marry women all the time, Mother, when they marry the same husband,” she said. “YN and I can marry the same man and he can give her children instead.”
“As true as that may be, our clan has never indulged in such practices,” she said. “Besides, any child YN has will be considered…” she searched for the words, “Hers. Not yours. You are the queen, so it is your children who should-”
“-I am aware of how succession works, Mother!” Sookmyung snapped, her voice pinching your eardrum. “I have told you explicitly time and time again that I do not wish to have children or to marry. YN is perfect for it. If I marry her, her children will also be considered my children.”
“Should you marry a woman, it cannot be YN,” her mother said.
“Why not?”
“She is your handmaiden, love. She is not…” she paused again, “She is not suitable for you. She is not of noble blood.”
“Psh, wow,” Sookmyung snorted, “I thought I could be cruel. Did you hear that, Chaewon? My mother thinks your daughter is unworthy of me.”
“My daughter is a servant, Your Majesty,” your mother told her. “She’ll be marrying someone of her station like a stableboy or a blacksmith. A woman of your rank, Your Majesty, should be marrying a fine lord or a prince.”
“There are no princes left, you fool,” Sookmyung sniped at her.
“There would be if you hadn’t slain them all,” interjected Jisoo. “Enough of this foolishness. You will come to the pavilion today and greet your suitors. I give you until the end of the day to make a decision. If you do not choose one, I will choose one for you,” she said sternly.
“You wouldn’t-”
“-I would,” she cut her off. “This childish behavior of yours is coming to an end. You have been a queen for eight years, and have not even considered any suitors for yourself, so I must do it for you. I am giving one chance. If not, consider yourself lucky that you have not been dethroned.”
“You bitch!”
Sookmyung grabbed a small ceramic vase and flung it in the queen’s direction. Jisoo shielded her face in time to avoid any serious damage, but you still saw the disbelief in her eyes.
“I hate you!” Sookmyung grabbed another object, this time a small dish, which was dodged when your mother pulled Jisoo away. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” 
“Your Majesty, please!” 
You managed to grab her wrist in time to stop her from taking up a third object, which gave your mother time to wheel Jisoo away. “You can throw tantrums all you want,” Jisoo called from nearby, “You will get married or live to regret it.”
“What did you say, you-”
You kept Sookmyung from following her mother out by the waist. “Your Majesty,” you called over her grunting and growling, “Please enough. You will only make things worse for yourself.”
“For myself?” she twisted out of your grasp and turned on you, “I am the queen, you idiot! What sort of consequences could I face? What can that old, useless woman do to me?”
“I-I don’t know-”
“-You never know anything,” she hissed. “Just as stupid as you look. I am the queen. Nobody can touch me. Nobody can make me do anything I don’t want to do. I don’t have to marry anyone. I don’t have to have children. I don’t have to do anything that those stupid, old men in the council want me to do.”
“They only have the country’s best interest at heart,” you explained, keeping your hands together to stop them shaking. “They’re not doing it to hurt you or make you unhappy. Having a child would ensure your family name and legacy continues onward,” you took a moment to think, then said, “How can you make sure your dungeons and practices remain in place if somebody else takes up the throne? With a child of your own, you can make sure they share the same beliefs as you about crime and punishment.”
“I hate children,” she gruffed. 
“You don’t have to like them. You don’t even have to take care of them; you can have a wet nurse look after them for you. You only have to have them.”
“I don’t want to marry any of those men.”
“I’m afraid it must be one of them.”
Sookmyung’s palm collided with your cheek sharply. The pain burned on your skin, but you did not dare flinch or wince in front of her. “You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do,” she snarled. “I do. I am the queen." She smacked you again, “Say it. Say I am the queen.”
“You are the queen,” you squeaked.
“And you are my slave.”
“And I am your slave.”
Sookmyung smacked your other cheek, then grabbed you by the collar of your jacket. “I should throw you in that chamber. I think you’d remember who you are after a few days in there.”
Your eyes stayed on hers, and you trembled in her grasp. She could do it. You knew she could. For the briefest moment, you saw yourself laying nude in The Box, screaming and clawing at the wooden door as insects and arachnids crawled all over you.
“But no,” she released you and stepped away, “You’re not hard-headed like the other idiots around here. Dress me, and then we can meet these stupid suitors.”
“You…You will meet them then?”
“Might as well,” she shrugged. “Maybe we can find a husband we both like.”
“Both of us? Your Majesty,” you followed her to the bedroom, “None of those men would want to marry me. I am a servant.”
“You’re my servant,” she noted. “If they marry me, they’re marrying you too.” She held her arms behind her back so you may untie and remove her robe for her.
You gingerly touched your left cheek, and felt a small welt where her ring struck you. It pinched when you touched it. “What about your flowers? If you marry, you may not be allowed to have them.”
“I’m never giving them up,” she said, “Not for anyone. I worked too hard to obtain them.”
“Your husband may not like that and dismiss them from the palace. As king consort, he’d be allowed that right.” You’ll admit, you liked the idea of her flowers being set free. They’d all be able to live the lives they’ve always wanted freely and happily. 
“I’d kill my flowers before I let anyone else take them from me,” she said. “Grab the red and gold dress.” 
“Shall I call in the others?”
“No. I can’t stand them.”
“As you wish.”
“Because I am the queen.”
“Because you are the queen,” you repeated, giving a nod of your head before disappearing into the nearby closet. 
In the privacy of the walk-in closet, you pretended to search the shelves for the appropriate box. Sookmyung kept all her hanboks in boxes with their descriptions on the side. You already knew where her regal dress was, but did not reach for the box. Your back pressed into the opposite shelf and you took deep, silent breaths. Heart pounding in your chest, you tried your best to calm it before Sookmyung heard you. Like a feral animal, she grew tense the second she sensed fear. You hated this feeling, but it came regardless. You hated that your life was at her mercy. 
One mistake, one false word, and she’d throw you into a torture cell.
***
A/N: The conspirators have finally met!! I am so happy you guys are enjoying this fic so far. I know it's complex and elaborate, but I really love historical dramas and period pieces, so I wanted to write one for ateez. Please, as always, feel free to like, reblog, and comment <3
Also, sorry if some tags aren't tagging. Idk why.
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mxacegrey · 1 year
Text
Bride-to-be? Assassin.
Pairing: Viserys Targaryen I x Fem! Reader
Summary: "I intend to marry ... The Lady Y/N of the house of Y/L/N before spring's end."
Warnings: Descriptions of violence & references to marrying a child
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King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, stood before his council and his daughter, who were all waiting for the name of the King's bride to be. Otto Hightower, the King's hand, sat back in his chair, a small smirk gracing his face.
"I intend to marry... The Lady Y/N of the house of Y/L/N before spring's end." Viserys announced, much to the outrage of Corlys Velaryon and Otto Hightower, both of which had intended for their daughter to be chosen. Rhaenyra looked up at her father, her expression revealing confusion, especially after the previous night's conversation.
"What the f-?!" came a hissed response, unheard by the members of the small council. Hidden in a darkened alcove, by the side of the Iron Throne, a hooded figure stood, hand on their sword and their eyes glaring. Waiting for the exit of the council, the hooded figure made their way through the secret tunnels into the King's personal chambers. Once there, they watched Viserys walk into his chambers and sit in a chair before his table full of figurines. They laughed darkly before speaking. “With all due respect, Your Grace, what the fuck was that?!”
“Such a vulgar tongue for a lady.” Viserys smirked, not turning towards the voice. “My darling Y/N. How are you today, my queen?”
“Enough with this nonsense! Queen? Me?! I’m an assassin.”
“And my Hand. Was it not you who said ‘A queen who knows how to create a network and holds a silvertongue is the strongest queen there is’? Was it not you who has prevented many attacks on my behalf and rid Otto Hightower of his spies in my court?”
“You know very well that I was not talking about myself when I had said that. And what of your family? Of Hightower?” You scoffed as you walked towards him. You stood before him, pushing your hood down. Running a hand through your hair, you began pacing in front of Viserys before his hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his lap. “Hey!”
“Darling. You’ll be fine.” The doors of the King’s chambers opened to reveal the presence of the King’s ‘Hand’, Otto Hightower.
“My King.” Otto bowed slightly, taking in the position that you and Viserys were currently in.
“Otto.” Viserys replied simply, refusing to move from his position.
“You seem to have made a mistake in your choice of a bride.” Otto began.
“Oh? How so?” Viserys asked, his eyes holding a hint of amusement while his voice didn’t betray this. 
“You see, if anyone was to spread the news that my daughter had been spending unaccompanied time with the King, especially at night, it would not look good on either of you.” Otto explained, his eyes attempting to hide his malicious intent.
“I have spent no time with your daughter, the Lady Alicent. Especially not unaccompanied at night.” Viserys replied, somewhat amused by Otto’s actions and somewhat confused at the idea of Alicent in his chambers.
“But...” Otto stated, eyebrows furrowed in response.
“I believe what you have done, Hightower, is try and send your daughter here unaccompanied purposefully at night. Perhaps in a sense to appeal the King and even to have her as queen?” You explained, tilting your head in a seemingly innocent manner and nodding your head in mock-understanding. At Otto’s widening eyes, you leaned closer to whisper, “The walls have ears too.”
Otto left the room in anger and embarrassment, leaving Viserys to hold you closer to him and place kisses on your head. You moved slightly to grab papers and letters before being pulled back into Viserys’ embrace and you began explaining actions that could be taken as you read through different agreements. Viserys nodded from behind you and asked questions as to why you had a particular opinion on a matter, leading to a further explanation as to your discovery of actions in particular houses.
“I’m still mad at you.” You stated, Viserys’ arms wrapped around your middle.
“I know.” Viserys replied simply, a small smirk sitting on his lips.
~~~~
“Kepus.” A young female voice called out in High Valyrian. Daemon turned towards the voice, cool eyes looking at the woman before him.
“Princess Rhaenyra. What are you doing in Dragonstone now?” came his cool reply. Rhaenyra paused for a moment before asking,
“Do you know a... Lady Y/N?”
“Why?” Daemon’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly.
“It’s just. Father said he intends to marry her... before Spring’s end!” Rhaenyra began before Daemon rushed past her and headed towards Caraxes and Syrax. “Uncle!”
Ignoring the calls of his niece, Daemon flew towards King’s Landing, Rhaenyra not far behind him. Daemon landed in the Dragonpit, storming through the castle, knocking out any guards that came in his way.
“VISERYS!” Daemon yelled as he slammed open his brother’s chambers, his voice echoing.
“Daemon. I thought I sent you to the Vale.” Viserys stated, you sitting behind him, sharpening your sword. Daemon glared as he removed Dark Sister from her sheath and held the tip towards his brother. You swiftly held your own sword towards Daemon, eyes daring him to make a move.
“You. You stole my betrothed!” Daemon roared, eyes blazing. “She was to be mine!”
“You forget yourself, Daemon. You are married to Lady Royce of Runestone.” You spat, Viserys holding your other wrist.
“Calm, Darling.” Viserys whispered into your ear as he moved to stand behind you before looking back at his brother. “She is not your betrothed nor has she ever been.“
“I chose her. I wanted to marry her!” Daemon seethed, his commotion gathering the guards. “You only wanted a son!”
“Well brother, she is to be my wife in less than 2 moons.” Viserys smirked slightly as he pulled you into his arms and gave you a deep kiss, ignoring Daemon. “Why don’t you head to the Vale, to your wife, of whom Y/N holds in her affection very deeply?“
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thebadgerclan · 9 months
Text
Repayment
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x reader
Requested by @blueberrycoffee19
Summary: Kate and Edwina wish to repay you...
For as long as Edwina could remember, you had been in her life.  She had grown up calling you her “Auntie Y/N”, and you had helped Kate and Lady Mary shape her into the wonderful young lady she was today.  You accompanied the Sheffield-Sharmas to London for Edwina’s season, and everyone was floored when she was named the season’s diamond.  The surprises continued when Queen Charlotte offered to put in a good with her nephew, Prince Fredrich, who had just arrived to visit his aunt.
Lady Mary and Kate were overjoyed for Edwina, and to your shock, they attributed the bulk of her success to you.  “You have been there for us since the beginning,” Lady Mary had said.  “You treated Kate and Edwina as your own sisters, and I will forever be in your debt.”  Kate had shared the sentiment.  “Thanks to your efforts, Edwina has charmed a prince.  Fredrich has said he will provide for us all!  I will not be forced to marry!”
They insisted on repaying you, something you insisted was entirely unnecessary.  “We will find you a suitor!” Edwina had said excitedly.  “Edwina, darling, I require no repayment.  You are as much my family as my own blood, I would do the same for them.”  But the sisters heard none of your arguments, drafting and revising lists of potential suitors.  As it turns out, you were quite popular amongst the ton, and you soon felt like a debutante yourself.
Promenades, afternoon teas, lunch parties, dinner parties, your dance card full at every ball; it was a life you had never envisioned for yourself, but one you were enjoying nonetheless.  Like most evenings, you were dressed in a glittering gown, your hair curled and pinned, every gentleman vying for a dance with you.  Kate leaned in to whisper to you, keeping her gaze ahead.
“I know you have met many of these gentlemen,” she said.  “But him… He is a case I have yet to crack.”  She pointed to a strikingly handsome man who was speaking with someone who appeared to be his sister.  “The Viscount Bridgerton.  The head of his household who has yet to marry.  He inherited his title tragically–his father passed quite suddenly.  From what I managed to gather, his standards are very high.  But you, Y/N, I believe you may meet those standards.”
You smiled.  You would be hard pressed to deny that the Viscount Bridgerton was attractive.  You had heard about him; his history as a rake, his fierce devotion to his family, and his apparent aversion to marriage.  He was a challenge, and oh, you did love a challenge.  “How would I even be introduced?”  Edwina smirked.  “Leave that to me.”  She took your dance card, seeing who was slated for your next dance.  She copied that name onto hers and conveniently spilled her lemonade on yours.
“He is nothing if not a gentleman,” Edwina said.  “When he sees you unaccompanied for a dance, he will have to offer.”  You took Edwina’s hand, smiling as you shook your head.  “You are a genius, Edwina.  You shall make an excellent princess.”  Edwina blushed, smoothly stepping in front of your original partner for the next dance, as you made your way across the room into Lord Bridgerton’s line of sight.
When people began pairing off, you remained solitary, which sure enough, drew the Viscount’s attention.  “Pardon me, my lady?” he said.  “Are you in need of a dance partner?”  You smiled coyly, offering your hand.  “I am indeed, thank you, Lord…?”  He took your hand.  “Bridgerton, miss.  Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.  And you are?”  “Miss Y/N L/N, my lord.  It is a pleasure to meet you.”  “I assure you, miss, the pleasure is entirely mine.”
He kissed your hand, and the musicians began playing.  The pair of you took to the dance floor, the steps like second nature, allowing you to speak to one another as you danced.  “So, Miss L/N,” Anthony said.  “I do not believe I have seen you in town before.”  “No, I am here with the Lady Sheffield-Sharma and her daughters.  I have been close with them since childhood.”
“I see…”  He spun you before you faced him again.  “If I may, are you seeking a match this season?”  You shook your head.  “Not originally.  But Miss Edwina has caught Her Majesty’s nephew’s eye, so Kate–her sister–and she insisted on finding me a suitor.”  Anthony nodded.  “But tell me, my lord, are you not also seeking a wife?”  “Indeed I am.  I have been told my criteria are a bit harsh, however.”
You laughed, a real laugh, and Anthony felt his heart squeeze.  “How so?”  “Oh, I dare not say in front of a gently bred lady.”  You looked at his through your lashes.  “There is little I have not heard, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied, and he smiled.  “Very well.  I had thought my requirements were simple: she must be well read, be reasonably intelligent, be able to hold a decent conversation, and….”
“And what, sir?” you said, a hint of teasing leaching into your voice.  “That she be reasonably pleasant to look upon.”  You had to stifle a roaring laugh.  “Oh my.  Well, perhaps it was the way you phrased it?  I can indeed see how they may be off putting.”  Anthony cocked his head.  “How might you suggest I pose such questions?  My current model has been proven ineffective, I suppose.”
“Well, rather than asking a lady if she is well read, as what she enjoys reading.  Do not ask her if she is intelligent, ask her if she enjoys studying, and what she enjoys.  As for her appearance, I suppose that is subjective.  Though you must understand, my lord, we have been raised on needlework and pianoforte.  So if a lady brags about her skills, it is because we have been told those are what gentlemen are looking for.”
The Viscount nearly rolled his eyes.  “I cannot speak for all gentlemen, but I certainly do not care if a woman can embroider a pillow.  There are far more practical uses for one’s time.”  “I quite agree.  Lord knows how much blood I have lost to embroidery.”  Anthony laughed, a warm, hearty sound, and you smiled.  The dance ended, and Anthony bowed as you curtsied.  He found that he was not annoyed with dancing as he normally was.
You were sharp, witty, funny.  Clearly an intelligent young lady, and gorgeous to boot.  How was it possible that you met every one of his criteria for a wife?  “Miss L/N, if I am not too bold, might I call upon you tomorrow morning?  I feel we have much to discuss.”  You smiled, feeling your heart skip a beat.  “I would like that, my lord.  I am staying with Lady Danbury.”  Anthony kissed your hand once he had returned you to Kate and Edwina.  “Until tomorrow, then, Miss L/N.”
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hrefna-the-raven · 5 months
Text
Web of faith
Masterlist- BG3 masterlist
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 6 - 7
Words: 3703 (sorry it turned out to be so endlessly long^^)
Warnings: smut (18+), more precisely smut including the drider version of Kar'niss
Summary: you finally entered the shadow-cursed lands and called out to your guide, but you didn't expect to know him...
Chapter 4
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As soon as your tadpole reached out, you were taken aback to discover something familiar. You couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but the mind that responded felt incredibly comforting and recognisable, seamlessly connecting with your own. Drider was your first thought as you heard the clicking of spiderlegs approaching in the darkness accompanied by a pale white light. Your hand instinctively went to the hilt of your sword but your body froze as soon as the drider was in sight.
"Yes", the drider spoke with a raspy voice, "I hear them, your majesty. Calling us."
His enormous spider-like form would have instilled terror in most others, particularly the goblins, the half-orc, and your companions. However, your gaze was fixated on his face. It appeared different, yet strangely familiar. The eyes were engulfed in darkness with light brown irises, and there were five additional spider eyes on the left side. Beautifully cascading white hair adorned his broad shoulders, swept behind the ear on the same side you used to do it. And there it was, that unmistakable scar on his full, soft lips. He had changed, had become disfigured, but beneath it all, you immediately recognised an undeniable beauty. The same beauty that had captivated you back then in Menzoberranzan. You couldn't believe what you were seeing - he was alive. Your beloved was alive. Though your mind acknowledged that his transformation into a drider meant he had endured immense pain and suffering for failing Lolth's test, your heart could not deny the sheer joy of witnessing him breathing and relatively well before you.
Kar'niss hesitated to appear when he sensed the presence reaching out to him. It echoed the same tune as the other voice in his mind, that gentle melody piercing through the commanding tone of his queen, softer but irresistibly captivating. He desired to distance himself, to avoid committing any offense against her majesty, as it had nearly destroyed him before. However, he found himself unable to resist the allure of that melody and then he caught sight of that exquisite visage, seamlessly weaving through his fractured memories like a crimson thread. Though unaccompanied by a name, he was intrigued. If his queen permitted, he felt compelled to uncover more. Before he could utter a word, the half-orc stepped forward, breaking the uneasy silence.
"Greetings in the Absolute's name, you have been charged with guiding us", he said, deliberately avoiding meeting the gaze of the drider as his feet shuffled nervously.
"New flesh for you, my queen. But who are they?", he approached you, drawing nearer until his face was directly in front of yours, his body stooping low. The pale glow from the lantern cast an mellow light on your countenance as you stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.
"Niss, is that you?", your voice quivered, unable to contain the mixture of agony and inexplicable joy welling up within you.
Your minds connected and you heard a whispered voice, unsure if it was the Absolute or just the echoes of his fractured mind reverberating in the dark but deep in there, just a fraction of a second, your own voice resonated alongside a fleeting image: delicate fingers tenderly brushing his hair away from his face. The connection abruptly severed, leaving Kar'niss bewildered, his face etched with confusion as he desperately grasped at the fading memory, only to find it eluding him. A bitter taste of shame gnawed at his very soul.
"Bless us again, majesty. Shine your light, protect us!", Kar'niss spoke with an agitated tone, spinning around and striding away, "follow us or die in the shadows!"
Your companions exchanged whispered words amongst themselves. It was clear to them that you had some connection to this drider, but you paid no mind to their inquiries. Your sole concern was Kar'niss in this moment. Hastening past the group, you positioned yourself by his side. Though he remained silent, his gaze shifted towards you, filled with curiosity and a tinge of unease. You were well aware of the anguish that accompanied the creation of driders. Not even the smallest traces of the person they were before the transformation rarely remained, instead they became monstrous husks, their broken minds barely holding them together, filled with shame, sadness and anger. Your heart shattered when you delved into his thoughts, witnessing the devastation inflicted upon your beloved and now infected by the mind control of the Absolute's cult. The weight of it all burdened you, threatening to drown you in a sea of sorrow. Yet, you clung to that one glimmer of hope as you heard your own voice and witnessed a shared memory. Deep down, you believed that the real him still existed, buried beneath layers of pain and madness. You were determined to dig him up again, even if it meant using your bare hands and dedicating the rest of your life to the endeavour. You swore to yourself that you would do everything in your power to reclaim your one true love.
"Niss, do you remember me?", you cautiously inquired, your hand reaching out towards him, however, before it could make contact, he retreated.
You suppressed a sob that threatened to escape your lips, battling the pain that surged within you at his rejection.
"Niss, please", you begged, almost whispering to ensure the others wouldn't overhear.
Kar'niss felt a tightness in his chest upon hearing your words, as if an invisible force had stolen the air from his lungs, leaving him bewildered. Who was this young drow and why did she address him with the same name as the other voice? Why did he feel so drawn to her? He understood that his loyalty should lie solely with his queen, the one who had bestowed upon him purpose and value. Yet, he yearned to bow before this drow, to worship and love her. The ease with which he entertained such thoughts of betrayal to his queen terrified him. He must not allow the drow to touch him; he must distance himself, seek guidance from his queen, beg for forgiveness, and determine the meaning of this drow from a safe distance. And yet, her melody echoed in his mind, growing louder and oh so sweet. How could he possibly resist?
"The shadows are strongest here, do not stray from the path, no matter what they promise", he warned, casting a glance at you before resuming his journey.
The remainder of the route was devoid of any noteworthy incidents, and you soon reached your destination: Moonrise Towers.
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Kar'niss swiftly departed as the guards at Moonrise Towers greeted you, stealing a final glance before ascending the tower walls. Upon entering, a comforting warmth enveloped you, creating an almost inviting and friendly atmosphere, if not for your knowledge of the cult's true nature. However, the ambiance quickly shifted upon reaching the throne hall, where Ketheric Thorm sat in a state of irritation and boredom, standing next to him a half-orc named Z'rell, who was currently torturing some goblins. Your attention drifted away, leaving Gale to handle the conversation while you focused on scanning your surroundings with the aid of your tadpole, desperately searching for any trace of Kar'niss. Finally, you managed to detect his presence. The sound of your name being mentioned abruptly snapped you back to reality.
"Were you even listening to a word I just said?", Gale let out a sigh, but upon noticing the guilt in your expression, he decided not to dig further, "let's head to Balthazar's room and get that lantern."
You nodded, taking the lead and pausing in the middle of the library. You gazed upward, a faint smile appearing as you spotted an opening in the ceiling.
"Would it be alright if you grab the lantern and search for Balthazar? I have something I need to attend to here."
The rest of the group frowned in disagreement, but Gale nodded, offering you a warm smile. He understood the significance of what you needed to do. If there was even a chance to save the one you loved, it was crucial to seize it. He couldn't help but admire your unwavering determination and the fact that your love continued to grow, despite your beloved being transformed into a creature that would terrify most.
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Your mind reached out to Kar'niss, imploring him to join you. Initially, there was no response, but then you sensed his reluctance as he attempted to shut you out completely. It was only when you sent one final desperate plea that he relented. Niss, please. Emerging from a hole in the ceiling, the drider descended on a delicate thread of spider silk.
"Tiny excuse of a drow", he grumbled, "bothering us until we give in."
With his hands firmly gripping your waist, he effortlessly hoisted you over his shoulder. As he crawled up the wall, returning to his secluded space, he held onto you tightly.
"We shouldn't listen to you, it's treason, our queen will punish us."
He almost threw you into his little chamber and you had to use all your force and balance to not fall flat on your face. You crawled upon the blanket and took in your surroundings. It was a small little space, almost hidden away from the other cultists, a woollen blanket spread out on the floor, while the moon lantern's light engulfed everything in a calming pale white glow. You almost started to cry as you realised that his broken mind seemed to remember happy bits of his past and, without being aware it, recreated them to give him comfort.
As soon as Kar'niss slipped through the opening, his movements came to an abrupt halt, his numerous eyes scanning the scene unfolding before him. In that brief moment, his mind fell silent, devoid of voices or commands from his queen, leaving behind a comforting emptiness as he absorbed the sight of you sitting on his blanket, basking in the gentle glow of the lantern. It felt incredibly familiar, offering a sense of solace akin to returning home after a long day.
"We-we-I don't understand", he stuttered as he approached you, his voice shaky, "what is this magic? What trick are you playing on us?", he raised his voice and his mind reached out to yours.
You saw through his eyes, witnessing yourself holding a piece of fabric and placing it tenderly against his lips while wearing a smile. You heard your own voice uttering the first words you ever spoke to him: fear not, everything will be alright. Rest if you need to, I mean you no harm. The connection severed once again, causing you to gasp as you opened your eyes, unaware that Kar'niss had drawn nearer and was now seated directly in front of you. Tears streamed down his two ordinary eyes, a wave of sorrow engulfing him, threatening to consume and drown him entirely.
"Tiny goddess of flesh", he cried, his voice filled with despair, "we don't her the voice of our queen anymore, we failed again, we will be punished again. What are you doing to us? Why can't we resist?"
It pained you to witness his anguish. Seeking solace, you attempted to establish a mental connection once more. This time, there was no resistance on his part, allowing you to delve deep into the fragments that composed your cherished memories. Though distorted and scattered, they still existed. And within this ethereal realm of thoughts, you beheld it all. You relived the very first encounter, sensing his nervousness as he mustered the courage to confess his feelings. The warmth in his heart when your lips first met. You nearly became lost within the recollection of your final moments together, seeing yourself through his eyes. The touch of the ring on his fingertips stirred conflicting emotions of doubt, love, and the hope of marriage that spread within your own mind. And then, his thoughts suddenly struck against you, enveloping you in a sinister mist that seeped into your being, rendering you immobile. As the mist dispersed, you felt his heart racing in his chest, fear coursing through him, while a strange female voice called out your name. Looking up, you beheld the awe-inspiring yet terrifying figure of Lolth, demanding your demise as proof of his loyalty. His body trembled, and he let out a scream, unable to comply with the request. He pleaded for death, rejecting his goddess, and everything descended into darkness. The connection severed, leaving you gasping for breath, as you took a moment to reorient yourself and realise that you were still at Moonrise Towers. Your gaze fell upon Kar'niss and you sobbed, shuffling towards him, desperately grasping his face as if it might fracture at any given moment and you'd loose him again.
"We have failed," he wept, his voice choked with sorrow, "we always fail; we are insignificant... I... I am nothing."
Your heart was about the shatter into a thousand pieces, all these years of thinking he died where as he had been through the most cruel torment, simply because his love for you was stronger than any faith. You drew his face closer, your lips colliding with his in a passionate embrace, encapsulating all your sorrow, newfound happiness and everlasting devotion in one single kiss. It mattered not what he had become; he was present, he was alive and you would unleash chaos upon the world if necessary just to keep him safe. He made his selfless sacrifice for you long ago and now you would demonstrate that you were more than prepared to do the same for him.
Kar'niss' soul was silently screaming as his thoughts raced and clashed in an unending cycle. Whatever you did within his mind, it gradually reassembled fragments of his former self and without the Absolute poisoning him, the fog in his head cleared and he began to remember everything. Memories flooded back, capturing every fleeting instance of joy shared between the two of you, each intricate detail etched into his consciousness until the very moment he defied his deity to protect you. The rest was still enveloped in shrouds of darkness but it mattered little to him, all that was important to him was here, within his small space, kissing him deeply. Despite his doubts, he felt the radiance of your love piercing his very essence and even though he wanted to reject it, all too aware of the monster he was now, he simply couldn't, he'd take this moment of bliss for he was afraid it might be the last one for the rest of his miserable life. Kar'niss broke the kiss, gently removing your hands from his face and holding them tenderly as he gazed at you. Numerous thoughts raced through his mind, yet his lips remained silent, leaving you to break the silence.
"Yes", you said softly, a giggle escaping your lips at his bewildered expression, "the answer to the question you wanted to ask me the day before your trial, it is yes."
For the first time, Kar'niss let out a nervous chuckle, it was broken and yet it sounded the same as back then in Menzoberranzan, never failing to melt your heart away.
"It was", his voice cracked, exposing the dread and sorrow hidden within, "we are not the same, we are", he gestured towards the spider part of his body, "broken, not worthy, even less than before."
"Niss", you tenderly brushed a strand of his hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear, "nothing has changed. I still love you and I would still say yes if you were to ask me now. I don't care how you look, you're my beloved still if you'll have me."
"But we are, we are-"
"Worthy", you finished his sentence, "you've always been."
You pressed your lips against his once more and this time he responded eagerly, his fingers tangling in your hair. Breaking the kiss first, you gasped for breath. You had missed this, missed him, and there was so much lost time to make up for. Kar'niss turned to the side, retrieving something from the floor before taking your hand and clumsily sliding a ring onto your finger with his trembling hands. Your mouth fell open in shock, speechless as you stared at the ring.
"We....I kept it", he placed a kiss on your hand, "never knowing why but it felt important, so we-I held on to it."
You hugged him tightly, pulling him down as you both descended to the ground. Kar'niss placed one hand on the floor beside you, careful not to put too much weight on you with his spider-like lower body. His breath hitched as he felt your legs wrap around his lower torso, urging him closer. Trying his best to keep a neutral expression, his pedipalps delicately caressed your sides, evoking a smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. In that moment, with your beloved lying atop you, his soft hair falling across your face, it felt as if time had stood still and this was just another blissful moment of togetherness like the many you shared in your past. Kar'niss couldn't help but grin, his fangs visible but not detracting from the gentle happiness in his smile. Sensing your mind reaching out to his, he closed his eyes and welcomed you in. This newfound form of intimate communication was something he cherished, as it allowed both of you to share emotions without the need for words.
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At first, there was a sense of hesitation and confusion but then it became more apparent to him. The emotion that you were conveying to him was not just a simple connection; it was desire, a longing to be intimately close to him, projecting images of him kissing you. The intensity of your feelings was evident in the quickening of your heartbeat and the heat that emanated from your body as you pressed your hips against his. Overwhelmed by the moment, he let out a deep groan and momentarily lost himself in the embrace, nuzzling his face into the tender skin of your neck and peppering it with gentle kisses. Just as he thought you were about to pull away, thinking that you had come to your senses and were going to reject him, you surprised him by tenderly caressing his cheek.
"Would it hurt you if we...", your voice grew quiet as your gaze darted between your hips and him, "can you still do...this?"
Kar'niss blushed, his fair complexion turning all crimson as he raised his lower body slightly and extended one of his palps towards you. Without hesitation, your hand reached out and delicately caressed it, reconnecting your desires. Overwhelming waves of lust surged through you as you continued to stroke him, his eyes closing as he let out a deep groan. His other palp pressed against your clothed arousal, the desires of both of you intertwining through your connection. Sensing your hesitation, he opened his eyes, afraid that you might reconsider, but instead he felt you shifting beneath him, eager to remove your clothes. Kar'niss took a step back, his hands fumbling eagerly to help you remove your clothing until you were completely exposed beneath him. With a light touch, his hands traced over the contours of your body, careful not to harm you with his sharp claws. He licked his lips hungrily, battling against his inner demons to resist ravishing your body like the savage creature he had become.
"Niss please", you pleaded, echoing the same desperate request you had made in Menzoberranzan when he was about to make love to you for the first time. He lowered himself, positioning his face between your thighs, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your arousal before he eagerly indulged in your wet folds, licking and sucking as if starved for it. Your voice filled the air with sinful moans as you called out his name. It felt heavenly to be touched this way after all this time as you never let anyone close to you after you thought your beloved to be dead. Unable to hold back any longer, you succumbed to the pleasure, your legs trembling as you experienced your first orgasm. Kar'niss let out a primal growl, feeling the intensity of your climax through the deep connection you shared, his desire growing uncontrollable. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you closer and positioning you at the perfect angle. Whispers of a protective spell escaped your lips, hoping it would avoid you being sliced open from the inside as your bodies were not entirely compatible anymore to indulge in these kind of pleasures. One of his palps rested at your dripping entrance as the other was pressed against your clit. The intense connection between your bodies and the shared anticipation in your minds threatened to push Kar'niss over the edge but he restrained himself. He couldn't bear to disappoint you, not when you had willingly come back to him to love him again. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed himself inside you, overwhelmed by the pleasure of your tight walls squeezing around one palp and the other teasing your sensitive nub simultaneously. The sensation of him filling you was almost too much to handle, and despite your desire to take all of him, it was simply impossible. Moans escaped both of you in perfect harmony, as if you were synchronised in every way. He momentarily halted his movements, afraid of causing you any pain. You gave him a reassuring nod and he resumed his movements again, slowly thrusting into you. Both of you moaned loudly, the sensation heightened by your shared connection and it didn't take long for you to come undone at the same time. Your walls clenched around him and he growled your name, palp twitching as some liquid silk dripped out of his abdomen. The connection broke and, exhausted, Kar'niss laid down beside you, pulling you close in an affectionate embrace, his face buried in your soft hair, murmuring sweet words of affection. As you both drifted off to sleep, the tranquillity was shattered by piercing screams and the reverberating clash of weapons coming from the lower floors...
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amuseoffyre · 6 months
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Having some thoughts about Ed's final and destructive reaction to everything in episode 10 and seeing how the seeds of that destruction have been scattered from episode 3, all the way through.
We know he's bored and struggling with it and that Izzy has basically been keeping the Queen Anne running in his stead when the crew are questioning things. Ed never deals with those confrontations because he has Izzy as his buffer. Izzy says it himself - even when Ed is at his most unstable and erratic, Izzy has kept the crew in check for him. "I need you here", Ed says, because he relies on Izzy to keep things operating.
Then we move onto the way he tries to fit into a different station and class and Stede is there to back him up, but the minute Stede leaves him unaccompanied, things go wrong. Stede being absent from the table is even highlighted as we see Ed's anxiety about the cutlery rising. And more importantly, Ed isn't present when Stede does demolish the aristocrats. He comes in to find the ship burning and Stede laughing and has no idea how he did it. Stede used the weapons of that world and wrecked them, which defininitely plants the seeds that Stede is more part of that world that Ed can never understand.
And when things begin to turn sour, it's at the hand of someone he trusts and considers a friend. Calico Jack takes his surprise at the betrayal as a joke, laughing in his face, and telling him "we're all just at various stages of fucking each other over".
This is the important thing - Ed explicitly put his trust and reliance on three people in the course of the show. He trusted in Izzy to watch his back, both pre-show-canon and after he returns from the Academy and is in a spiral of depression. He trusted Stede to be beside him because he said they were friends. He trusted Jack, because why wouldn't you trust the crewmate who saved your life?
Jack is the first one to knock that certainty sideways. Ed seems genuinely shocked and wounded by the fact he's been double-crossed and tricked by someone he considered a friend. At this point, he doesn't see this fully as Izzy's betrayal, because Izzy was targeting Stede and not Ed.
Immediately, he goes back to Stede, the person who said he was his friend. He even gets arrested - under threat of death - and signs his life away for this friend. Despite the old school chum of his friend saying "he's from my world, not yours", Stede is still there with him. And then, when he thinks he's got this all sorted out, when he's put his heart out on his sleeve, he gets to the dock and someone else has betrayed him and left him on his own again. He's from that world, he remembers. Not yours. We're just not those kind of people.
So he returns to the ship alone and asks for the person who he knows he can rely on, the person who has stood by him for years and who he can trust implicitly. And at first, Izzy does as he's always done: he keeps Ed's real condition from the crew. But there's a secondary motive for Izzy too: he always said he was honoured to work for the Legendary Blackbeard. He's there for the image that has kept them all alive this long and even when he sends Lucius in, he warns him he's not allowed to talk about what he sees "on pain of death".
But Lucius does what Lucius does and encourages Ed to come out, express himself and share his feelings and that is when Izzy's fraying nerves shred to bits. And he has no idea of exactly how catastrophic the repercussions will be when he takes that last shaky support Ed has depended on and kicks it out from under him.
"You said above all else is loyalty to my Captain" has become "I should have let the English kill you."
What he is, what he is allowing himself to be, is not enough. It wasn't enough to stop Jack. It wasn't enough to stop Stede. And now Izzy, the one person who had been there beside him for years, is pleased to see him show anger and violence, tells him "Edward better watch his fucking step".
Every person he has counted on and trusted and been vulnerable with has let him down in rapid succession. The only people left who have seen him that way are the crew and the "Come on Eddie, give us another song" was the death blow.
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They're cheering him now. They're clapping and saying his name and telling him how cool and brilliant he is, but he's learned a lesson. He's learned it from the people who treated him like a rockstar and then turned on him and laughed in his face only hours later. He's learned it from the people he considered his friends and most trusted allies.
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Any one of them might turn on him. Any one of them might turn him into a mockery and a joke and humiliate him. Any one of them might trick him the way Jack did. Any one of them might betray him the way Stede did. Any one of them might threaten him the way Izzy did.
And so, the Kraken rises. The part of himself that kills before it can be killed. That hurts others before it can be hurt. That will close itself from everyone and be so terrible and monstrous, no one will ever get close enough to hurt him again.
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needcake · 7 months
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@hetaberia-week
Day 1: historical .
.
1539,
Lisbon
A man in his crew had made a comment that had stayed with him hours after they had reached the capital. In fact, Portugal was still thinking about it when he finally left the Casa da Índia and crossed the short distance to the Ribeira Palace, walking up the stone steps in the winding staircases, nodding at the palace staff that passed him by and greeted him demurely, and, being himself clad in black, it had taken him a moment to realize everyone was too.
No bad news ever comes unaccompanied, his crewmate had said, and Portugal was still thinking of that when he opened the door to the King’s private drawing room, finding him with his eyes red-rimmed, clutching a letter to his chest in anguish. The Empress of the Holy Roman Empire, his younger sister, had died in May, he said, her last pregnancy had robbed her much of her strength, the child had not survived either. Portugal still smelled of gunpowder and ash, he could still feel grains of Indian sand inside his boots, but his eyes were lost on some unidentifiable corner of the King’s private drawing room as he sat down before his desk. They never lived long, did they. He had held her as a baby in his arms, had seen her learn her first words of his language, had attended her wedding, had visited her children. Their lives went by so fast, not like his.
There would be a funeral and the King wanted him to accompany him, Portugal did not think to say no. He was tired, battered, hurting, ears still ringing from cannon blasts shot across the Indian coast by Ottoman ships into his fortress in Diu, wearing months of a siege they had at great pains finally won. No bad news ever comes unaccompanied, and he found himself on a carriage a few days later bound to Granada, crossing the border with his shoulders heavy with padded fabric, his hair combed and clean, golden rings on his fingers.
The husband, the Holy Roman Emperor, was not there when they reached the church. Unable to bring himself to say the final good-bye to his beloved wife, he had instead sent his son in his place, his first-born and only surviving son and heir, and the boy stood, stone-faced and ashen, accompanying his mother’s coffin into the small, packed full church alone.
How small he seemed at that moment. And Portugal would never forget that image, of the boy entering the church behind his mother’s casket, his posture stiff with grief, dark clothes too heavy, golden fleece too garish. It would be the last time he ever saw him as a child. Once the ceremony was over and the body was buried, the son would leave the marble grounds of that church forever changed. No bad news ever came unaccompanied.
From across the entrance to the church while the crowd dispersed, surrounded by a group of nobles and high-ranking clergymen, Spain spotted him and excused himself to come to him, the pull on the bottom of his stomach becoming stronger the closer he came, recognizing him as an old soul like himself, despite him being so much younger.
“We did everything we could to save her,” Spain said, taking Portugal’s numb hand between both of his in a comforting gesture.
It should be the other way around, Portugal thought, looking at his young face and red-rimmed eyes. It was Spain who had just lost a Queen and an Empress, Portugal had lost her long ago, the moment they had sent her away to be married in a political alliance, but Spain had just lost a companion, an advisor, a friend. Portugal should be the one comforting him.
What an odd creature this boy was, he thought, observing the brown curls that framed his youthful face, feeling the calluses on his fingers from handling sword and quill, looking into his olive green eyes that so reminded him of someone else.
Portugal laid his other hand on top of theirs.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said, earnestly, and Spain’s composure cracked, his chin trembling as he turned his eyes down to nod at the ground, sniffling.
And how odd, he thought, how so very odd, that his first instinct had been to pull him into his arms, even though he didn’t.
--
Notes: Portugal is coming home from the Battle of Diu (1538), only to discover the Holy Roman Empress, Isabella of Portugal, had died in May, 1539.
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sergeantsporks · 9 months
Text
Dadrius Week 2023 Day 6: Palisman
Hunter grabbed his boots, but didn’t pull them on, instead padding softly down the stairs. His socks muffled his footsteps, so the only sound in the house was the click of the lock.
“Are you really going without eating breakfast?”
Hunter jumped, dropping his boots and nearly slipping backwards on the tile. Darius sat in a recliner, fully clothed, sipping from a mug. The man blended right into his cushions, all purples. “You’re up?!”
Darius’ hand snaked out, turning on the lights. “Yes.” He set his mug on an end table. “I’m surprised you weren’t up earlier. You’re only leaving a whole HOUR early today? My goodness, what a sleep-in.”
Hunter flushed. He’d actually woken early enough to arrive an hour before Dell even showed up. Sometimes he liked to practice carving in the quiet, or just sit with the Bat Queen’s rescue palisman. But Darius liked the idea of ‘getting a proper eight hours of sleep’ and tended to insist Hunter sleep at least that long. He supposed he could always go to bed earlier than midnight. “Were you waiting for me?” he demanded.
“Yes. And a good thing. Breakfast. You have plenty of time.”
Hunter trudged to the kitchen, painfully aware of Darius in the other room, sipping his coffee. This was his third week with Dell, and Darius hadn’t gotten up to see him off any other time—it had to have something to do with the fiasco yesterday. Darius hadn’t tried to talk about it last night—he’d said good night pleasantly enough, and that was it. He’d probably just wanted a second of space, or maybe he’d been taking time to smooth things over with his family. Yes. That made sense. But now…
Hunter scarfed down a couple slices of toast, then headed back to the door. “Okay. I ate. Goodbye.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Four words. Somehow, each one felt like a punch to the gut. Oh, yeah. This was definitely about what had happened yesterday. Did Darius think Hunter was fragile? Did he think he couldn’t walk there on his own anymore?
“Oh,” he fumbled, “Well, I usually walk, because magic can upset the palisman if it shows up too suddenly, so—so we wouldn’t be able to use your abomination warp.”
“I don’t mind a walk.”
Great. “Oh. Okay.”
Hunter tugged his boots on. Darius followed him out the door, and they walked in slow, awkward silence for at least a block. Very few people walked in the streets this early, and most of them trudged along blearily, either coming back from a late night, or up against their will. Even though the street was wide enough for all of them, other citizens still parted respectfully for Darius, giving Hunter appraising looks.
“So,” Darius said finally.
So. The word, unaccompanied by any others, sent a shiver of panic down Hunter’s spine. He won’t kick you out. Still, the dozens of other possible bad things that could happen flitted through his mind. “So.”
“About yesterday…”
Hunter pressed his arms against his stomach. “It was nothing. I mean, I’m sorry.” Eber’s words echoed in his head—that Darius thought he’d been the one to blame, not Hunter. “I mean—it’s fine.”
“How’s your hand?”
Hunter flexed his bandaged hand. He’d put more gel on it this morning, and the scabs hadn’t cracked yet. He just hoped he’d be able to hold his carving tools properly. “Fine.”
“Good. That’s good.” More awkward silence. They were still hopelessly far from the palistrom forest, and the workshop, and Hunter desperately wished he could teleport there and get out of this conversation.
“What happened?”
Hunter edged further away from Darius. The whole thing had been a stupid mistake, and he knew it. After a good night’s sleep, it all seemed so ridiculous. A ridiculous reaction and an unnecessary silence between them. “Nothing. I mean—I dropped the glass. It broke. I panicked. It’s just—” he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, searching for the right words. “The usual.”
“Ah. The usual.” Darius cleared his throat. “Hunter. My parents… are not the type of people to get angry at you for breaking a glass.”
Right. No. Of course not. “Okay.”
“And if they were,” Darius continued, “I would never have taken you near them.” He stopped walking, and Hunter stopped too, as if he were attached to Darius by a short leash. “Do you understand? I wouldn’t—If someone was dangerous like that, I wouldn’t put you in peril. That sort of situation—”
“I get it. Darius, it’s okay. I get it. I understand.” Hunter started walking again, the tips of his ears burning. Darius meant well enough, he knew, and part of him was glad that the sentiment had been expressed in no uncertain terms, leaving zero room for doubt. But the other part simmered with embarrassment that Darius had to say it so explicitly. He should just know it. He should just trust that Darius wouldn’t willfully put him in dangerous situations, or near people like…
Darius followed, now a few steps behind, rather than at Hunter’s side. “I can’t help but feel like that wasn’t the only issue.”
Hunter walked faster, one step away from jogging. “We’re going to be late.”
“Little Prince, did the panic attack get worse after I came in with abomination?”
Hunter gulped at the question, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “Dell’s going to wonder—”
Darius stopped. Hunter didn’t have to look to know, he just felt, in the back of his mind, that Darius was standing still in the empty street again. “Hunter, I know this is a hard conversation to have, but we need to have it. Abomination magic is something I use often. It’s a part of me. I know it hasn’t caused you trouble in the past, or at least if it has, you didn’t show it. I need to know what I did differently yesterday so that it doesn’t happen again.”
Hunter shrugged helplessly. How was he supposed to say ‘in that instant, you were Belos, even though I know you’re not’? “It wasn’t—you didn’t—I don’t know, I was already panicking—and it just…”
“Made an already bad situation worse?”
“Yeah.” Hunter crossed his arms, his shoulders hunching. “Can we just… go?”
“Okay.” Darius started walking again. “Thank you, Hunter.”
Hunter blinked, looking up at him. “For what?”
“For talking to me.”
“Oh. You’re welcome?”
They reached the outskirts of town, buildings turning to trees and cobbled road to dirt path. Darius glanced around. “So. Is there a house here, or…?”
“It’s all outdoors.” Hunter moved more confidently here, the trees drawing him onwards. He skipped ahead, turning to face Darius and walking backwards. “We have niches for the unawakened palisman so that they don’t get wet in the rain, of course.”
“Of course,” Darius echoed, “Ah—unawakened palisman? Isn’t that all of them?”
“Nope!” Hunter felt a grin starting to creep onto his face. This wasn’t the first time he’d given the explanation to a newcomer, but he’d never expected that newcomer to be Darius. “There are three different options for a palisman adoption here, each of them with their own benefits.” The words poured out easily, much more easily than discussing the Deamonne House Fiasco.
“First, and most commonly expected, of course, is that you order your own palisman. If you know what animal you want, and what your wish will be, I can carve you what it is you like—the palisman will be exactly what you always knew you wanted. Uh—or at least that’s the theory. Technically, that avenue isn’t open yet because I’m still learning to carve, and I can’t make that kind of promise just yet. The second avenue is that if you’re not sure what animal you want, you can look through a selection I’ve already carved—most of those are easy shapes right now and I practiced on regular wood a few times before carving. Or they’re palisman that Dell started before his injuries, and I finished carving, polishing, and painting. The palisman will be completely yours, but you’re a bit low on choice, there.”
“And the third option?”
Hunter’s hand went to his chest almost without thinking. “Adoption. There are… a lot of palisman who ran away from bad homes, or… bad things happened to their witches. Some of them are… they’re still hurting. But others are ready to try again. If your goals line up with a palisman’s desires, they’ll choose you. Those are the awakened palisman. Sometimes they have more complicated needs than a new palisman, but they also have a lot of experience and knowledge to offer.”
“Ah.”
Hunter hummed. They were close—he could hear the awakened palisman rustling in the trees, watching him from a distance as they usually did until he reached the safety of the workshop. “Maybe I could find you a palisman.”
Darius locked up for just a second at that, but quickly shook his head. “Ah. No thank you. I’m not sure that having a palisman is for me.”
“You didn’t used to think having some kid around was for you, either.” The words popped out of Hunter’s mouth before he could really think them through, and he immediately glanced up at Darius to see his reaction.
The abomination coven head snorted, ruffling his hair. “Well, you’re not just some kid. You’re my kid.” His eyes immediately widened, and he coughed. “That is to say—why don’t you show me some of what you’re working on?”
Hunter’s heart thumped in his chest. He didn’t even try to push Darius’ hand away like he usually would, just mutely nodded and picked up one of his half-finished practice pieces, carved from regular red wood instead of the blue palistrom.
“This is, um.”
His kid.
Focus.
Concentrate.
Do not blow this. Be cool.
“It’s going to be a bee,” Hunter explained, “See, there’s the stinger—I’m still trying to figure out how to carve the wings in, or if I should attach them separately, or maybe just carve them flat against the body instead of poking out. I’m just worried that if I do that, they wouldn’t be able to fly, or else the part of the body they were folded against will be off-color.”
“That sounds… not like the easiest design, then.”
Hunter shrugged. “Dell said I should start with familiar shapes—the cat was probably the easiest. The curves on the snake made it a bit hard to do, and I still haven’t successfully made a chameleon.” He brushed his thumb against the rough, unpolished wood, his heart aching in his chest. There was a shape he knew every curve of. Sometimes if he wasn’t thinking about it while carving, his knife shaped a beak, or a stray wing. He was almost certain that if he tried, he could create the most perfect songbird in the world.
But he wasn’t ready to try.
Hunter set the unfinished statue down, shaking away his melancholy. “Oh, I know a palisman you might like!”
Darius shook his head. “I told you, I’m not in the market for a palisman right now.”
“I know, I know.” Hunter raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He wondered if Darius had missed the fact that Dell wasn’t here yet. Probably not, he reflected gloomily. But he could distract from that. “But you’ve seen what I’m working on—let me find a finished palisman, to show you the goal!”
He stood on the top platform, waving to the palisman that lurked in the trees. “Ava! C’mere, girl, I want you to meet someone!”
In a whoosh of green and blue, an elegant peacock dove down from the tree, landing on his arm with a squawk. She pecked gently at his ear, and preened herself, smoothing her feathers.
“You look lovely,” he told her, rubbing the space just between her eyes. “Sorry, he’s not looking for a palisman right now. He’s just a friend of mine that I wanted to introduce you to. Maybe you’ll change his mind about getting a palisman, huh?” He smoothed her feathers. “He’s the one I told you about, the one I’m living with right now? You want to help me test the waters on how he feels about adoption? Do you, Ava?”
She cooed in response.
“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”
Hunter descended the staircase more carefully with the palisman. She was bigger than most of the others—her tail gave her probably twice the surface area of his other charges, and she was a little more unwieldy to carry if she fanned it out. Which she did now, looking down the stairs expectantly.
Hunter hopped down the last stairs. “Darius, this is—”
“Ava?!” Darius finished, his voice rising to a squeak.
Ava’s eyes locked on Darius and she screamed in rage, her tail feathers folding, then fanning out again, this time in an angry display of aggression. She clawed her way up to Hunter’s shoulder, digging in and snaking her neck around his to peer around his other shoulder, still shrieking at Darius.
“Ow—Ava, what’s the matter with—Dariiiiuuuuussssss…” the realization hit him like a human transport worm. “She’s your palisman?!”
Ava gave his ear a nip, then shrieked again, glaring at Darius.
“I’m sorry!” Darius pleaded, “Ava, if I’d known—but you’re alive! That’s—”
Hunter reached up to quiet the palisman, starting to pat her head, but she bit his fingers, hissed at Darius, then fled back up the stairs, disappearing into the forest in a blur of beautiful feathers flitting through the trees.
“Ow.” Hunter shook his smarting hand. “I’m so sorry, Ava usually doesn’t act like that! But then… you… already… knew that…” Hunter shook his head. Most of the palisman here had lost an owner. But Darius was still alive, which must mean that Ava had either been thrown away or had run from him. Why? “Darius? What is your palisman doing here?”
In a whoosh of wings, the Bat Queen landed on the forest floor. “Carver.”
“Bat Queen! Um—Ava just ran off, I’m sorry, I’ll go after her.”
Bat Queen shifted, eying Darius. “Ah, Ava.” She clicked her tongue. “In her past life, her witch tried to feed her to a monster. She escaped unharmed, but brokenhearted.”
Darius flinched. “I’ll… help you find her.”
Bat Queen inclined her head. “Yes. Go together.” She glanced around at the trees. “Something bad has come to Bat Queen’s forest. Palisman can feel it in the trees.”
That sounded… troubling. Hunter hadn’t felt anything walking in, but he trusted the palisman more than his own senses—especially since he’d been so desperate to change the topic of conversation on the way here. “We’ll be careful.”
Bat Queen tapped Darius’ chest with one big claw. “Keep the carver safe. Find Ava.”
“We’ll bring her home,” Hunter promised.
Darius seemed all too happy to get out of the Bat Queen’s presence, practically bolting into the forest. Hunter followed more slowly, crossing his arms.
“You never told me you had a palisman.”
“You heard the Bat Queen,” Darius replied tensely, “Ava’s partner tried to feed her to a monster.” He dragged one hand over his face. “I thought she was dead this whole time,” he said softly, “I thought Belos must have destroyed her, just like all the other palisman.”
“Why?” Hunter’s hand went to his chest. He’d given palisman to Belos, he knew he didn’t really have the space to judge. But not his palisman. Never his palisman, not of his own free will. “How could you…?”
Xxx
Darius scanned the trees for any sign of Ava’s brilliant plumage. She hated him. And he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t think he could look Hunter in the eye, so he just kept looking up, rechecking trees he knew she wasn’t in.
“For the coven,” he said tersely, “You know Belos collected new recruits’ palisman. You were lucky to get yours after your initiation.”
“But—you could have hidden her, right? They wouldn’t have known—you could—you could—”
Darius’ legs wobbled, and he sat down on a fallen log with a whump. Seeing Ava, seeing her anger, it was like that day all over again, watching her disappear into a dark room, not even struggling to get back to him, just watching him with hurt, abandoned eyes. “I suppose I wasn’t as brave as you, Little Prince.” He buried his face in his hands. “I chose my ambition over my friend. I let her die.”
The log creaked as Hunter sat down next to him. “Are you okay?”
Darius laughed, a short, barking sound. “Not really. Although I appreciate the concern.” He sighed. “I wish I could say that I’ve regretted it ever since. And I did, for a while after I gave her up. But if I hadn’t, I never would have become coven head, and I never would have found out what was going on with the day of unity.” He looked up at Hunter, desperate to… he didn’t even know what. Be understood? Receive some sort of absolution? “I never would have met you. I hate that I had to do that to her, but I did have to, didn’t I?”
Hunter twisted the ends of his apron strings between his fingers. “I don’t know,” he said softly, “I guess there was always a choice, but I can’t tell you if things would have been better if you’d chosen differently.”
Not exactly forgiveness, but then, he hadn’t done anything to earn that, had he? “I suppose.”
“Do you want her back?”
“What?”
“Do you want her back?” Hunter repeated, “You hurt her, but she was still your palisman first. It’s not too late to repair things between you and she.”
Darius snorted, pushing down the spark of hope in his chest. “Do you really think that? After what I did to her? I threw her under the transport worm, I gave her up to be eaten by a monster. Her words. After everything, do you really think she’d want to be my palisman again? Do I deserve a palisman again?”
Hunter went silent for a moment, and Darius saw his hand drift up to his chest, a movement Darius knew meant he was thinking about his own lost palisman.
“I guess that’s something you should ask her,” he said finally, “Apologize. Ask if she can forgive you. But first, we have to find her.”
Angry squawking tore through the trees. Hunter winced.
“And I think I know which direction to start with.”
Panic swept over Darius in a dizzying wave—the Bat Queen had said something dangerous might be in these woods. What if it had gotten to Ava first? He surged to his feet, tearing towards the sound. He summoned abomination after abomination, sliding into a clearing on a wave of his own, already transformed.
Ava lay on the ground, bound by pinkish magical ropes. Odalia Blight stood above her, the circle over her finger matching the ropes in color. “Darius?!”
“Odalia,” he snarled, “Let her go!”
Odalia waved a hand, and a spirit floated out of her necklace, picking Ava up and dragging her back towards its master. “Oh, no, dear. I’m going to get a leg up on the demand for palisman. It’s going to be a successfully booming business now that the Empire is gone, and I’ll need a few starters if I’m going to purchase the wood necessary to create custom creatures.”
“They’re not a—a product!” Hunter cried, skidding into the clearing next to Darius, “They’re living creatures, and you can’t—can’t deny people the chance to have one because they can’t pay you!”
Odalia tilted her head. “Oh, hello, dear. You’re a palisman carver now, aren’t you?” She tittered, putting one hand to her chest. “Perhaps I should take you along with me as well and avoid the trouble of trying to train someone new!”
Darius put one arm out in front of Hunter. “Try it,” he growled.
“Oh, relax, I was joking.” Odalia patted Ava on the head. “They’re just animals. This one doesn’t even have an owner! So really, who’s getting hurt, here?”
“You are,” Hunter answered simply, and disappeared in a flash of gold. He reappeared behind Odalia, snatching Ava away.
Darius sent his abominations forward, intercepting Odalia’s ghosts before they could attack Hunter. “This is a new low, Odalia. Even for you.”
Hunter flash-stepped next to Darius, tugging at the ropes. “I can’t—”
Darius shrank his usual scythe to a small knife, wiggling it under her bonds. Ava squawked, struggling, and Darius dismissed the knife before he cut the palisman on accident. “Shshsh, I’m trying to help you!”
Hunter disappeared, this time attacking one of Odalia’s ghosts while it tried to rip through Darius’ abomination. He yanked it backwards, kicking it away. “Should we just go?”
“One second.” Darius turned back to Ava. “You have no reason to trust me. I know. But please—let me help you. I promise I won’t hurt you—not again.”
Hunter teleported in front of Odalia, snatching her necklace away. “Haha! Try controlling your ghosts now!”
Ava looked at Hunter, then at Darius, and bowed her head, closing her eyes and going still.
“Thank you,” he murmured. He gingerly slid the knife back under the ropes. “One, two, three.” Darius pulled the abomination knife towards himself, cutting through the magic cleanly.
In Hunter’s hand, the pendant shook and released a spirit the size of a griffin, the smaller spirits flying into it and molding into one whole that roared in Hunter’s face, pushing his hair backwards. Hunter dropped the stone, teleporting backwards to avoid a swipe. “Darius, hurry!”
“One, two, three.” Darius cut the set binding Ava’s legs—only her beak left now. Hunter teleported circles around the spirit, confusing and enraging it. The spirit destroyed Darius’ abominations with a single swipe, keeping itself between Odalia and Darius, but still wheeling around to face the threat that was Hunter, its claws always a beat too slow to hit him.
“Last one, Ava.” Darius slipped the knife under the muzzle. “One, two—”
“Darius! Look out!”
Hunter slammed into Darius with all the force of a charging ratworm, jarring his arm and jostling the knife, which cut both the ropes and left a thin cut in Ava’s face. The world around them burned gold, and Odalia’s spirit roared, half caught in the warp, its claws barely missing Darius. The stone on the ground cracked, and it disappeared. Hunter clung to Darius’ side, breathing heavily.
Odalia stumbled back with a short shriek, glaring at Darius before disappearing into the trees without another word.
Darius hissed out through his teeth. “Well, that was a close…”
Hunter slumped against him with a groan.
“…call…”
Darius caught Hunter before he could fall, lowering him gently to the ground. The spirit had missed him, but its claws had found a mark in Hunter’s side, ripping so deeply that Darius saw bone. The edges of his shirt around the gash were already dark with blood, and Darius didn’t know if it was because of pain, shock, or blood loss, but his eyes were closed.
No.
No, no, no, no.
Darius tore open Hunter’s belt pouch. “Please—you always have—you have to have—” he tossed aside a crumpled piece of paper, dumping the contents of the pouch onto the ground to find the bandages Hunter always seemed to have on him. He found them, two rolls of cloth bandages that his shaking hands missed the binding on twice before finally unrolling them. He pushed the bandages into the gashes, packing them tightly into the wounds.
Hunter twitched, weakly whining and batting at Darius’ arms, but Darius pushed his hands away, stuffing more cloth inside of the lacerations. He tore off his own cloak, wrapping it tightly around Hunter’s torso to keep the packing in place.
“You’re going to be fine,” he promised shakily, shoving Hunter’s belongings back into the pouch. “Do you hear me?”
Back to the workshop? No, the Bat Queen wouldn’t be able to help him. But Bonesborough was too far, even with his warp. They’d come deep in the forest, and he didn’t know the local clinic well enough to safely bring two people there, especially if Hunter reacted badly to abomination magic right now.
His eyes slid to Ava, who eyed him, green blood dripping from the gash made by his knife. “Please,” he begged, “I know I hurt you when I promised I wouldn’t. I know I betrayed you in the past. You don’t have to forgive me. But help me save him.” He half-offered Hunter’s broken body to her. “I can’t do it without you.”
Ava strode towards him, and instead of a squawk, he heard her voice, a voice he hadn’t heard in decades. “For my friend.” She shifted into her staff form.
“Thank you,” Darius whispered. He swept Hunter up, snatching the staff out of the air, “Let’s fly.”
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Salon Fréluire, Palais de Thornolie: 18 May 1850, 15:30
Monseigneur Oliver: Why did it have to be Mademoiselle Aubert?
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La Reine Arabella: You must be seen actively pursuing a match. Eleanor has rejected your invitation, and because you cannot show up unaccompanied I had no choice but to make the invitation.
Monseigneur Oliver: [Scoffs] But Aubert? You could have issued an invitation to practically anyone else, Maman.
La Reine Arabella: Perhaps-
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Monseigneur Oliver: You do realise she and I have already agreed not to pursue a match?
La Reine Arabella: That may be, but-Adelaide, is something the matter?
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Madame Adelaide: I...I'm afraid not. I feel a bit unwell. Pardonnez-moi...[Leaves]
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La Reine Arabella: Adelaide-
Monseigneur Oliver: Let her go. She's suffered an emotional week.
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La Reine Arabella: What do you mean?
Monseigneur Oliver: I'm not at liberty to say.
La Reine Arabella: [Sighs] The two of you and your secrets...I'll go check on her. Meanwhile, do try and not to look so heartbroken. While I cannot do much regarding Eleanor's rejection at present, I have invited her and the rest of their family for tea tomorrow so that we may discover the root of the problem. So please try and be patient. [Leaves]
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Le Roi Gaspard: She speaks wise words, Oliver.
Monseigneur Oliver: I've already made my decision.
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Le Roi Gaspard: [Sighs] Your heart may have made a decision, but have you-
Monseigneur Oliver: The decision is made, both by heart and reason.
Le Roi Gaspard: Then explain it me. Why her?
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Monseigneur Oliver: [Sighs] I've known Eleanor for almost my entire life, Papa. There is nothing about her I do not know, and that includes all the things she doesn't wish to put on display for anyone. She possesses the greatest strength of character, a keen mind...a true queen in every sense of the word. She is steadfast in her resolutions. She is gentle in her presentations. But...
Le Roi Gaspard: Quoi?
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Monseigneur Oliver: I need her to see it...
Le Roi Gaspard: Hmm...
Monseigneur Oliver: Papa?
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Le Roi Gaspard: See that she does.
Monseigneur Oliver: Quoi?
Le Roi Gaspard: You've given me a great deal to think about. Thornolia will need all of those qualities, and more, in her next Madame la Reine in order to secure and maintain her future. Without someone as strong as the mademoiselle you described...you will not be able to face what lies ahead. Excusez-moi. [Leaves]
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Monseigneur Oliver: What lies ahead? What do you mean? Papa?
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Previous | Beginning | Next
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allthefights · 2 years
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→ Duchess Elisabeth Amalie Eugenie was born in Munich on December 24, 1837, as the fourth child of Duke Maximilian Joseph in Bavaria and Princess Ludovika. Nicknamed Sisi, she enjoyed an informal upbringing before marrying Emperor Franz Joseph I at the age of sixteen. Shy and unsure, Sisi crumbled under the strict court etiquette, which left her isolated and friendless. Her melancholy and distaste for public life was treated as a childish indulgence by her distracted husband and his mother, the formidable Archduchess Sophie. Despite her somber demeanor, Sisi captivated the public thanks to her stunning beauty and ankle-length chestnut hair. Early in her reign, Sisi developed a deep interest in Hungary, then a rebellious part of her husband’s empire. She believed the Hungarian people deserved greater freedoms and respect. In 1867, Hungary became an equal partner in the Austro-Hungarian empire. Franz Joseph was crowned King of Hungary and Sisi became queen - she was beloved by the Hungarian people. The death of Elisabeth’s only son and his mistress Mary Vetsera in a murder–suicide at his hunting lodge at Mayerling in 1889 was a blow from which the Empress never recovered. She withdrew from court duties and travelled widely, unaccompanied by her family. While travelling in Geneva in 1898, Elisabeth was mortally wounded by an Italian anarchist named Luigi Lucheni. Her tenure of 44 years was the longest of any Austrian empress.
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sjsmith56 · 5 months
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Lord Buchanan - Series Masterlist
Series completed.
A bit of a mashup, set in an alternate universe, where a modern woman finds herself stuck in a medieval world. She needs the protection of a powerful man (guess who?) to stay safe in this world as there is danger in many places for an unaccompanied woman. The people of the medieval world (with touches of the Renaissance) are also aware of the modern world through the visions of their sorceress. Magic is accepted as being equal to religion. All MCU characters except for two will have different identities in this story. The two will be revealed during the story. Much of this story will be suitable for 18+ readers only. Minors should not interact with this story. If you follow me and your bio does not indicate you are older than 18 you will be blocked.
Characters: Lord Buchanan (James Buchanan Barnes), OFC (named), King Steven (Steve Rogers), Queen Peg (Peggy Carter), Sir Samuel / Knight Commander (Sam Wilson), Bruce the Giant (Bruce Banner), Lord and Lady Stark (Tony and Pepper Stark), King Thorn and Prince Loke (Thor and Loki), Dr. Jane Foster, Sorceress (Wanda Maximoff), Garrison Commander Rhodes (James Rhodes), Archer Barton (Clint Barton), the Baron (Baron Zemo), the Dreykov sisters (Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova), Prince Arthur David Joaquin de Torres Walker aka Quin Torres (Joaquin Torres as a teenager), Duke John Walker, Lord Fury (Nick Fury), and others in brief cameos. The final character of note is not an MCU character but a horse, Magnus, the black stallion ridden by Lord Buchanan; Magnus is a central character in several plot lines.
Warnings: sexual content, violent content, misogyny, talk of slavery, talk of child abuse, talk of sexual abuse, talk of incest, forced arranged marriages, death. There is also love, valour, honour, truth, and attention to duty so it balances out quite well.
Previously published on Wattpad and AO3 platforms, under the username SJSmith56.
Novels/Collections Masterlist Tumblr Masterlist
Read past the break for chapter titles.
Chapter 1. A New World
Chapter 2. To the Castle
Chapter 3. The Feast
Chapter 4. The Duel
Chapter 5. Declarations
Chapter 6. A Time for War
Chapter 7. Time to Live
Chapter 8. The White Wolf
Chapter 9. Two Brothers, Two Kingdoms
Chapter 10. Decisions
Chapter 11. Magic Moment
Chapter 12. Coronation
Chapter 13. Tactics
Chapter 14. Friends in Need
Chapter 15. Setting Things Right
Chapter 16. The Way Home
Chapter 17. Heavens Above
Chapter 18. At Home in the Rocky Woodlands
Chapter 19. Hope and Friendship
Chapter 20. Meeting of the Minds
Chapter 21. Solidarity
Chapter 22. Two Steps Forward
Chapter 23. Three Steps Back
Chapter 24. The Sweet and the Bitter
Chapter 25. Radio Silence
Chapter 26. Across the Waters
Chapter 27. A Single Step
Chapter 28. Home
Chapter 29. The Danger
Chapter 30. Celebrations
Chapter 31. Revelations
Chapter 32. Destiny Calls
Chapter 33. A Matter of Honour
Chapter 34. Time for Love
Chapter 35. A Call to War
Chapter 36. The Gathering
Chapter 37. Time to Fight
Chapter 38. The Last Time
Chapter 39. A Shot in the Dark
Chapter 40. Reap What You Sow
Chapter 41. Coming Home
Chapter 42. A Time for Everything
Chapter 43. Epilogue
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Miss your Hal writing. Do you have any plans to write more for him?
I love Hal and miss him too. I am working on another part of unaccompanied queen, it will be set before they married and fell in love. But I would never turn down some more request for him.
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lakecountylibrary · 5 months
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Read like a librarian! Here's Kate's current TBR:
Mao (volume 12) written and illustrated by Rumiko Takahashi
Star Knights written and illustrated by Kay Davault
The Skull written and illustrated by Jon Klassen
The Dog Knight written by Jeremy Whitley illustrated by Bre Indigo
Dear Rosie written and illustrated by Meghan Boehman and Rachael Briner
Girl Juice written and illustrated by Benji Nate
Out There written and illustrated by Seaerra Miller
Monstrous: A Transracial Adoption Story written and illustrated by Sarah Myer
Squire & Knight written and illustrated by Scott Chantler
Unaccompanied: Stories of Brave Teenagers Seeking Asylum written and illustrated by Tracy White
Suee and the Strange White Light written by Ginger Ly and illustrated by Molly Park
The Sea in You written and illustrated by Jessi Sheron
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sseniita · 3 months
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two royals, one stone
part one!! (prologue)
After the war, the Prince thought he had lost everything. His kingdom was in shambles and abandoned, left to fend for themselves under the rule of a foreign King. To add insult to injury the Prince was captured and hidden in the enemy’s dungeon. Hopeless and angry. Until the 13th day that the Queen went to visit him, her heels clicking against the slippery cobblestone. She came unaccompanied by guard with only a lantern lighting her way.
“You want me for what?” the Prince asked through the rusted bars of his cell. The Queen was at an arm’s length from the Prince. He could have grabbed her and threatened to break her neck if she didn’t hand over the keys. Yet something inside the Prince warned him not to. The Queen was older but looked beautiful and kind. Her bright colours were washed out by the darkness enveloping the dungeon. Her gown looked uncomfortable and unnecessary for any occasion that didn't involve ballrooms and dancing. I’ll never understand these northern kingdom attires, thought the prince. The Queen shone like the sun, and smiled just as brightly and she explained. 
“Take my daughter eastward. If not a scratch is laid on her, then you shall have your kingdom returned.” The Queen repeated, as if rehearsed- straight, direct and brave. It was an insult, for something to be stolen from the Prince and then ask of him to work to get it back.
The war between the Prince's Forested Kingdom and the Shining Kingdom they were in now was one written in stone. A burden passed on by the Prince's mother to him. The shining kingdom had always hated the Prince's home. Dirty, dark and evil were the kindest of names used in the feud. Finally, the forested kingdom fell because of a fatal miscalculation the Prince had made. He had to save his kingdom and this might have been his only chance.
“Why me? What’s the catch?” 
“I mean no deception. The journey east is dangerous but required. She needs protection, and who better than the prince who single handedly fended off my army for months.” 
The Prince scoffed. “I didn’t do anything.” 
“Only a fool would believe that. I have reports of you as you handled both your sword in battle and plans in your war room. If it wasn’t for you, your kingdom wouldn’t be rebelling as it is now.” 
The Prince’s head perked. This was the first he heard of a rebellion. The guards teased about his people dying. Cruel lies. 
“They’re giving you trouble, are they?” He said proudly. 
“Yes. Tremendously so.” the Queen winced, forgetting herself.
“Why should I do anything for you? You want my kingdom controlled, only I can do that. I’d be doing you a favour by just returning to my kingdom, leaving you to rule over your own."
“Perhaps. But I am not dull. I need leverage to make sure you don't attack and I need something done. Something only you can do right."
Two birds with one stone. The Princes clenched his fist. He was being used.
"I suppose I should perhaps rephrase. Take my daughter east, make sure she arrives in perfect condition and you shall be returned to your kingdom that we will rebuild once you agree to a truce and you will control your people. And yes, I'll be the first to admit our mistake." The Queen rolled her eyes.
"If even one scratch is inflicted on her at any point or if any traitorous activity is noticed you shall be beheaded, and your corpse burned on enemy territory.” 
"And if I don't?"
"Feel free to rot, your highness." The queen smirked. "If you don't take my deal, you'll never see the light of day."
As the Queen said those words it began to sound like a wager. The kindness in her voice was gone, replaced by something sinister and protective, but her face remained kind. The Prince almost wanted to reason with her. 
“And your husband?”
“I will deal with my husband the moment my daughter arrives in the eastern territories.” 
“How do I know you're not lying?” 
“If I were lying you would quickly figure it out and kill the Princess. I would never risk that loss.” 
“And lets say I believe you’re telling the truth-”
“Then that would mean we have a deal.” The Queen interrupted, a smile reforming on her face. “So?” 
The Prince trusted no one, and that included the foreign Queen. Even if this was all lie he could runaway back to his kingdom. He doubted it'd be that easy but if he could make it East and there was the slightest chance the Queen kept her side of the deal- the Prince had to take it.
"East? Past the forbidden woods." The Prince's mind connected the dots. "The Sun Chapel. It wouldn't've have anything to do with that. Right?" The Sun chapel was shrouded in mystery and legends. Most bad, most involving the Shining Kingdom.
The Queen didn't respond. The Princes sighed, despite himself he laughed, not believing the utter mistake he was about to commit.
The Prince hadn’t met the Princess but there were rumours of her involvement in an ancient prophecy or that she had been cursed since birth. Tales of the Princess often involved irresistible beauty and grace or painful, inevitable misfortunes. Well, the Prince had a curse of his own, he couldn’t say no to a wager. 
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sun-aries · 1 year
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Sunshower (18+)
Okay I finally finished it! Here's this WIP that I previewed a few months ago ':)
This takes place a couple months after their wedding!
Warning: SMUT ahead
On a day where the sun shone bright, they didn't expect to have any trouble on a short trip across the countryside. Eldin Bridge, an old and well-worn bridge on the eastern ends of the kingdom, was in desperate need of repairs, and so the queen wanted to personally assess the damage before conducting a thorough inspection.
While no one was quite comfortable allowing the queen to go unaccompanied, she was fairly miffed at the suggestion of having an entourage only a short way away from the castle, and so they settled on having her husband, the second-in-command and hero of their kingdom, singularly accompany her to and from the bridge. Mounting Epona, they rode through the eastern throughway and arrived in less than an hour.
Though he couldn't tell why, Link had a strange inkling that something was off. There was nobody in sight, save for lone creatures roaming the fields, and the weather seemed fine. Still, he trusted his instincts, and he kept his eyes and ears on high alert as he followed her along the span of the bridge.
Honestly, he wasn't surprised at all that it was in need of repairs. On his travels, he'd noticed the cracks and crumbles of the stone; a large chunk of it was even whisked away to the outskirts of the kingdom before he and Midna found and returned it. In its current state, it was likely not safe to use for much longer.
But it was a bit difficult to focus on the bridge and its durability. It was a rare thing for them to spend their days together, she with her council and he with the knights.
She was focused and diligent, analyzing every crack, humming to herself and taking notes at every stop. Hands folded behind his back, he trailed her quietly - save for the few times she threw a question his way - and watched the way her gloved hand grazed the stone, her lips pressed together in thought and the way her body arched when she bent forward.
Then, there was a drop on his shoulder. He raised his head to the glaring sun rays and the brilliant blue sky, unsullied by stormy clouds, and frowned. "Zelda," he said, cutting through the silence, and she hummed in response. "Do you feel something?" She turned to him then, brow raised, and it happened again. "It's raining."
"What?"
"It's-" He paused, momentarily questioning his own sanity before repeating, "It's raining." Before either could deliberate this strange notion, a torrent of rain rippled over them and Zelda gasped, throwing her hands out at the sudden downfall.
Being in the heart of the countryside was in no way a good place to be amidst a sudden storm, but fortunately, Link knew every crevice of the country, and so he grabbed her hand and sprinted forward to the other end of the bridge. Tucking her notes against her chest, she followed blindly, even when he took her to the most crumbled corner and yelled, "Jump!"
Normally, she'd be able to follow without issue, but as she landed on the wet and uneven chunk of stone, her heel slipped. Zelda let out a short scream as the image of plummeting to her death flashed through her mind, before she felt Link's hands envelop her waist and pull her to him.
She pressed herself to his chest, trembling, and let out a shaky sigh. Her heart was racing and she was soaked, her hair and clothes saturated with the onslaught of rain. Link was in no better state: his blond hair was darkened to a caramel brown and water dripped from the hem of his clothes.
"Are you o-" When she peeled away from him, their eyes met and the words died in his throat. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks.
It was the way her dark wet hair pasted to her skin, against her flushed cheeks and fair shoulders, while a few stray aways curled around her temples. Her clothes, heavy and laden, clung to her body and accented every curve. It was the way her lips were red and her breath was hot that made his pulse thrum against his wrist.
Zelda caught his slip-up, naturally - easily, and searched him carefully. And it took less than precisely two seconds for her to realize why. His heated gaze roamed her, unconcious but unrestrained, lingering at her cleavage. It was evident what was going through his mind.
Link realized he'd been caught by the time their eyes met, his cheeks terribly flustered and eyes wide. He swallowed and her breath caught.
It would be terribly improper to get carried away. And yet -
Their lips met in a frenzy. Should they have given it a second thought, they might've realized how absurd it was. Two warriors stranded in the middle of the countryside, chilled to the bone, and this was what they came up with.
But her back hit the wall, her hips pinned to the stone, and neither of them really thought twice. His body rolled against hers, each thrust sending a surge of heat through her body.
"Link," she breathed before kissing him again, grabbing hold of his shoulders and drawing him closer. "We shouldn't."
"I know," Link growled before kissing her again. He then veered off to her jaw, scattering a dozen more kisses, and Zelda moaned, throwing her head back against the stone.
His lips travelled to her neck, drinking up the raindrops that lingered. She was panting softly but it rang like thunder in his ears. His hands cupped her waist, rolling encouragingly in his grip, as his tongue followed the rivulets that trickled down her chest.
Had she worn one of her regular layered outfits, the sight might've been different, but as it was, her body was practically visible beneath the flimsy dress. The white of her skirts was translucent, her long legs outined by the gossamer fabric, and the burgundy bodice was drawn tight around her breasts.
The sight was irresistible. Everything she did was so addictive, so exhilarating; every pant sent a shudder down his spine, every taste leaving him breathless.
Holding him by the shoulders, as firm as the rocks of Death Mountain, she squeezed a little tighter when he fell to a knee. Link looked up at her with an intensity in his eyes that made her shiver. His wet bangs fixed to his forehead, the ends draping over his wild eyes and shedding droplets of water. "You're so beautiful." The heat of his palms burned through her skin, his fingertips pressing into her in a way that told her he wasn't letting go anytime soon.
Lovingly, Zelda pushed aside the bangs and cupped his cheeks. "Touch me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite the downpour, he heard her command loud and clear.
One hand gripped her sleeve from behind and pulled it down with a few short tugs, and it was drawn taut beneath her breasts, pushing them up in an enticing way. His eyes met hers again, finding no timidity nor shame in them. Zelda bore herself to him with dignity, even basked in his gaze, and he smiled. His tongue found her nipple and she gasped breathlessly, watching him devour her like a forbidden fruit. The taste of the rainwater mixed with her sweat, salty and cold, was revitalizing.
Meanwhile, Link peeled her skirts from her legs and bunched them up at her waist, immensely grateful that there were none of the typical layers beneath. Rubbing the heel of his palm against her, she let out a cry, her head tossing against the wall, and matched his rhythm with small, keen thrusts of her hips.
"Link, please just-" Her words fell on a paticularly loud gasp when he tucked his hand into her panties, where she wanted him. "Yes." His fingers hooked into her before thrusting deep and measured, and it left her mouth gaping.
Her fingers fanned over the sides of his neck and tilted his jaw upwards, pulling on him like the reins of a stead so that their eyes might meet. His gaze was staved, droplets of rainwater dripping from his hair and following the seam of his gaping mouth. Just the way that he touched her, deep but slow, hungry but savouring, showed her how much he loved her. Every kiss was indulgent, every touch reverent; the intensity in which Link wanted her made her body tremor.
She moaned, locking her fingers at the back of his neck and pulling him up to kiss her frantically. He made a noise from the sudden collision of their mouths and his movements in her faltered for just a moment. But her kiss encouraged him to quicken his pace and when they parted, he leaned his forehead against the wall, just over her shoulder, his heavy breaths echoing in the shell of her ear.
His hungry eyes were drunk with passion, staring blankly at the sharp line of her brow, and he whispered, "Does this feel good?"
Turning her head the slightest, she rested her cheek against his, heat burning between them. Breathlessly, she answered, "It's so...so good."
His stomach lurched: her voice, her pleasure, it was all too much; he couldn't stand it anymore. His pulse went into overdrive and he suddenly pulled away.
Tucking his hands beneath her, he lifted her clear off the ground, his years of being a goat herder finally paying off. She gasped, grabbing hold of him to steady herself, and he flashed her a wolfish grin, his wild eyes shimmering with laughter. Even then, in the peak of their pleasure and the depths of their deprivation, he was himself: handsome and rugged, yet charming and boyish.
Pressing her further against the wall for stability, he freed himself from his trousers, and as her ankles locked behind him, he entered her in one swift thrust. Zelda cried out, her voice getting lost to the heavy rain.
He moved within her with slow but deliberate movements, punctuated with soft grunts in her ear. One of his hands held her steady and the other cupped her cheek – tender as always but just a little bit rough, a little bit desperate. Pleasure jolted through her, settling in the place they connected. "Please," she begged, "don't stop."
"I won't." His words were unfaltering, his voice a low tenor, and it made her whimper. Her muscles clenched around him, unwilling to let go, and she wrenched his head back to catch his lips, drinking him in with open-mouthed kisses. Each time they parted, she spotted the frustration and want in his face, his eyes clouded and lost in hers.
His patience was thinning by the moment, his want mounting to an apex, and Zelda felt it as his hips snapped against her. Needing to feel her pulse against him, he dropped his hand from her cheek and snaked it between them, rubbing her where she needed it the most. She gasped. "Link…!" Her toes curled in her boots, clicking behind him, enthralled by his brazen ways. "Link, I'll-"
"Please." She stilled for a moment as her entire body went taut, curling up against him and gripping his shoulders for dear life. He buried his face against her neck and murmured, "Zelda." Tracing the expanse of her neck with his lips, he drank up the raindrops gathered in her collarbone, and she angled her head to help.
Every sensation, his tongue, his fingers, his member inside her, sparked something inside her, setting her on fire despite her drenched clothes. She coiled her arms around his neck and cried out against his shoulder, clinging onto him as her orgasm came over her. It coursed through her in ripples, causing her to spasm against him and cry out in pleasure.
It only revigorated him, hastening his thrusts into her tight passage, deep and desperate. Retracting his hand from between them, he reached behind her and cradled her head, fingers laced in the wet locks of her hair. Zelda cried out again from the sensation, amplified by his rough and desperate rutting and his orgasm ripped through him, sharp and sudden. His cry was muffled against her neck and drowned out by the rain still pouring outside.
There was a still moment as their shudders died down and the rainfall gradually replaced the ringing in their ears. Even as Link gently set her down, his lips continued their journey across her neck, just indulging in her taste and smell, permeated with sweat and rainwater, and the warmth radiating off her. Her skirts fell heavily against her legs and his hand drifted down her back, fingers sifting through her hair.
"That was..." Zelda started breathlessly, "unexpected."
Link leaned his forehead against hers, his breath fanning her lips. "I'm sorry, it's just-" He licked his lips. "You...I've never seen you like that."
"Like what?"
"You're soaking wet from the rain. You look...amazing."
The heat returned to her cheeks and she simply let out a breathless laugh. "Perhaps we should stay out in the rain more often."
He shuddered. "Yes, please."
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annoyinglandmagazine · 6 months
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Female Boromir fic
The captain of the White Tower flung herself beside him on the grass, shielding her eyes with the hood of her mud stained cloak of thick and costly material that betrayed her station. They’d greeted each other in a manner befitting and practiced when their regiments had first crossed paths but they had ridden a long while’s unaccompanied and were now free to seek counsel between themselves as they had on many occasions before.
Theodred tied her horse to a tree with a little murmur and ruffle of the coat, a fine bred steed of course, strong and loyal to his mistress, but no creature of Rohan. He could feel Boromir rolling her eyes at him without having to turn, she was gentle and firm with the beast but had little patience for excessive sentimentality in such matters.
He sat beside her, giving her a bit of space to be sure, there was no need to be indecent about things even if everyone trusted them, and with good reason, to be alone together without concerns of anything untoward.
‘My father has been- thinking,’ he broached uncertain as to if this conversation was truly a good idea.
‘It’s so dreadful when they do that isn’t it?’ He could just see her smirk under the hood, a lazy, playful thing that encouraged him to go on. After all hadn’t they been friends for a decade now, he trusted enough to speak freely.
‘The thing is he’s not getting any younger and he wishes that when he passes he should know that he will be succeeded by a secure lineage……..’
She pulled herself up and the hood fell back off her face as she grasped his arm in commiseration ‘Oh he’s on to you about marriage. I almost thought it was something serious, about troops or the like. They all go through phases Theodred, I’m surprised you’re not familiar with them by now, of desperately wanting to see their child married and with a babe in the cradle and then when it comes to it desperately wanting the child to stay with them forever and never mature enough to have a child of their own. He’ll go off the idea as soon as he starts seeing the candidates and deems none of them near good enough for you, don’t you worry.’
He turned away briefly to smother his chuckle at her admittedly apt description of his father’s attempts at subtly hinting he should court because his father’s whims were not the true thing that was on his mind. It was the knowledge that his father was right, one day he would be king of Rohan and it wouldn’t do for him to pick just anyone for a queen, the duties of one were far too demanding for that.
‘Well, I uhh- I was thinking that I will need to have a queen when I assume the throne. And she’d need to be exceedingly capable; the role has a lot of responsibility involved, in truth about as much as my own if she is competent about it, I’d need to trust and be able to confide in her and well, my father already admires you a great deal……’
She blinked at him slowly ‘You can’t be fucking serious.’
‘I was actually.’
He let the silence hang for a long heavy moment in which neither of them were quite sure that those words had actually just been said. The silence was broken with a jolting burst of cackling from the lady beside him as she fell back onto the grass with racks of laughter barely managing to get out ‘You did not just propose to me, oh Elbereth help me,’ while she struggled to catch her breath.
‘I mean I wasn’t necessarily expecting to get an enthusiastic agreement but this is a little hurtful I have to say.’
She jostled his shoulder good naturedly, ‘Oh no, don’t you dare go be offended now, you’re the one who suggested it! How in Arda do you think that would work you great oaf?’
He groaned and shoved her back while putting on aggrieved air, ‘You truly do love to rub salt in a wound don’t you Boromir? Honestly first rejection and now you go and mock me for daring to attempt the hand of one so obviously far above my station as heir to the throne of Rohan-’
‘Well you’re the one who said it, not me,’ the Lady of Gondor tossed her chestnut braid over her shoulder with a haughty tilt of the chin. She halted her teasing for a moment to turn and look at him.
‘But in all seriousness Theodred, what could you hope to accomplish with such an endeavour? It may sound to you like a good idea for diplomacy now, but I can assure it will do little for your alliances if you attempt to make a Rohirrim out of Gondor’s future steward. Our friendship will serve us well I’ve no doubt but they are nonetheless distinct offices and should be treated as such.’
This new bit of information threw him a moment, causing him to momentarily forget his ‘You truly mean that your father intends for you to inherit? I mean you having a more senior captaincy to your brother is one thing, you have an aptitude for it that would make appointing another simply foolish, but there are rules about the stewardship. Established tradition. Of which one is very much that preference is to be given to sons.’
‘He set it into law the day I came of age.’
‘And how does Faramir feel about the circumventing of old laws to usurp him of the position that should be his?’
‘Oh please, Faramir is as relieved as anything not to be saddled with a role such as that. We would both I think prefer if our father’s blatant favouritism wasn’t a factor in it but in this world we take our blessings when we come to them. And that such a valuable position goes to one who actually wants it is certainly a blessing.’
‘Speaking of your brother, if our union would truly be so ruinous, you don’t suppose-’
‘Don’t. You. Dare.’
‘You don’t even know what I was going to say.’
‘I know you have a lovely young cousin about his age and if you do something to cause my little brother stress over her I will ensure that you do not have to worry about siring heirs again. That is a promise.’
‘I am truly heartbroken that I will not have the opportunity to enjoy your lovely threats daily.’
‘I think your ego may thank you yet if your wife cannot consistently wipe the floor with you in the training grounds however.’
He reached for the sword at his belt, ‘Oh is that a challenge, captain?’
‘Perhaps later, Theodred. Give us a moment,’ she sighed and shifted past the few crucial inches until her face was close enough that he could feel her breath; she pressed a brief but warm kiss to his cheek in placation and he chuckled as she leaned back into the grass.
‘No hard feelings, right?’
‘Honestly, Boromir it’s not as if I’m in love with you are anything of the sort, don’t worry yourself.’
‘Just checking.’
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