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herstarburststories · 3 years

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illicit love

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x reader

Summary: Jensen loves you, but sometimes love isn’t the right thing.

A/N: Hey, guys! All we needed was a newish fic to say that I was really back, here it is! This one goes for @negans-lucille-tblr 6k challenge. So glad you got to another millestone, honey. It's like I was posting my part for your 5k celebration just yesterday! xD Prompt in bold.

Warnings: age gap, cheating

Jensen Ackles kept squinting through the bricks of his memory in an attempt to recall where it all began. Maybe it was when he drove off the road he had known for years with the dumbfounded desire to take the trails yet traveled, threading his fingers through your hair on the night of September 7th. He could’ve chosen the easy out and say it all started to crumble with the first kiss, but no. The actor, father, and now horrible husband highly doubted that. No, as he unwound the convoluted wires in his mind, it wasn’t the first clandestine meeting that he saw as the beginning, not the first kiss or the primal stolen glances. It wasn’t even the lies or the way he pushed his body against yours in an act of illicit faith.

Like any grand mistake, it was way before that. Just like how the church not-so-gently advised, it all starts with craving something you never thought you would want.

It happened when he landed the job in a new series after leaving a fifteen-year-long rollercoaster, pushing away any real witness to the fact the old show that swallowed part of his soul was over. There was a certain shock of excitement misplaced by the fact he was going to be working with Eric again, and that the show was an abrupt change considering what he had been doing previously. Now, he believed it was his body’s particular way of telling him that — as the savage animals can sense rain or a calamity — this, baby, this is gonna change your life.

JENSEN ACKLES CAST AS SOLDIER BOY!

‘’Since when have you read comics?’’ Jensen arched his messy eyebrows at Dee’s curiosity about the Homelander and Soldier Boy panel making it to the screen. Shaking the comic book in his right hand slightly, he continued: ‘’Especially that kind.’’

‘’Never,’’ Danneel stated plainly, “but I have Google. It was pretty much the first thing that appeared.’’

‘’Well, Eric said that scene won't be on the screen. Besides, the portrayal won't be that Soldier Boy, but the original one who died in the war. ‘Course, he wouldn’t have died there in our show, but it ain’t the panel one.’’ He shrugged, bringing her closer to his side as she snuggled against him. ‘’There’ll be a bunch of Herogasm, which is basically drugs and sex. Just not with Homelander.’’

Danneel nodded at his explanation, humor clinging to her words as she added: ‘’Guess the only man I have to share you with is still Jared.’’

‘’Hey, you knew what you were getting yourself into.’’ Jensen scoffed playfully before kissing her cheek. ‘’Can't wait to start the show.’’

Jensen leaned forward to rest the comic that he had been religiously studying to form a psychological character profile on the dashboard of the Impala. The actor was spending plenty of hours inside his most palpable Supernatural souvenir -- Baby. His safe place. He sure as hell needed one of those, as molding a whole character that has a bunch of source material wasn’t as easy as he pictured. With Dean, he was putting himself and the script in one until it made his imaginary best friend. It was love at the first sight. Soldier Boy, however, was a long story short. Jensen figured he should do both, honor the character created and add his own special ingredients to it. It was a brand new kind of passion that he hadn’t done for a series in the longest time. Still, his glance trailed back to the woman by his side in the backseat.

‘’Let's hope it won't last another decade,” she mocked.

Jensen shook his head with a chuckle, relaxing against the leather seat. Even the mere smell of the Impala was enough to settle his nerves. ‘’Eric has plans for five seasons.’’

Danneel’s features contorted as if having war flashbacks. Sort of. She never imagined Supernatural would make it that far, and now with three kids, signing on for another excessively time-consuming idea for a new show didn’t seem too appealing either. Yet, she would support Jensen in any decision he’d take regarding his job. “Remind me the last time I heard that line before?”

‘’Come on.’’ He let out a wry huff, poking her side in a playful manner. She couldn't help but laugh, returning the gesture with tickles to start a very light-hearted battle. He seemed happy with the new job, something Danneel truly thought he would have more difficulty with. She’d pushed her weathered worries away with his easy-going laughter for now.

SOLDIER BOY’S LOVE INTEREST?

Eric Kripke threw the gossip magazine on the table, his eyes not straying from his long-time friend’s. He could’ve simply added the digital article to an irate email and be done with it, but he was a simple man with extravagant taste. That had been usual through his whole career, especially regarding the Supernatural aesthetic. Yet, in those mundane situations, Jensen almost found it too much. That wasn’t the case, though. If anything, the plain, yet still overpowering words that his green eyes scanned made his body sweat. He could even hear his organs working from the absolute silence of the blame that covered the room. Kripke’s room had never seemed more like an interrogation chamber than now.

The magazine in question held Jensen and your picture on the cover, his arms wrapped around your torso as he pulled you close. The most sequin smile hung from your lips like happiness was something that could be touched on that sunny day in the private park near the studio. Giant and garish letters made the headline along with the subline: Jensen Ackles wearing his Soldier Boy costume caught sharing a passionate kiss with the new arrival of The Boy’s Team: Y/N Y/L/N, also known on-screen as Cangaceira!

His voice came out as an accusation: ‘’What’s this, Jensen?’’

‘’We were…’’ The director just waved his hand to interrupt.

‘’Don’t try saying you were practicing a scene because I wrote the Soldier Boy and Cangaceira kiss, and it wasn’t here.’’ Acid tainted his words with no space for fake niceties on his set. Jensen remained in the chair, not even daring to make the most subtle move. Eric knew where he was hitting, and Ackles deserved a punch in the jaw. “The sex scene wasn’t here either, but you two added a lot of erotic subtext. Trust me, I know.’’

His shoulders fell in exhaustion. ‘’Eric…’’

‘’You’re lucky we were going to make those two a couple anyway. I can just put the kiss here and save your ass. What if that wasn’t the case, huh?’’ the director continued, more interested in spilling out his anger than listening to dumb excuses. ‘’What about Danneel, Jensen? You have a wife and kids, for God’s sake!’’

The breaking point. Jensen rose to his feet with sudden frustration, a growl leaving his lips as he pushed the chair to the side with uncharacteristic brutality. How could Eric bring up his family like this? And how could Jensen’s heart not bring them up when he kissed you before? It was all a fucking mess, and he had no choice but to choke down whatever came out of it, even if it was poison and spite.

‘’Fuck, Eric! Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think it doesn’t pull me apart every time I go home and know I’m lying to the people who love me?’’ The vein on his neck popped as he spoke, emotion gushing thicker through his arteries than blood. Woe remerged under his skin as he swallowed dryly, resting his hands on the table and looking down. That wasn’t him. He had done a lot of things that weren't him lately. ‘’I have enough guilt here, pal.’’

Eric just glared down at the man’s outburst, furrowing before asking, ‘’What’s going on, Jay? You don’t just get up and cheat on your wife. That ain’t you.’’

He shook his head. ‘’I don’t know. Y/N’s just…’’

‘’At least 20 years younger than you,” he stated. ‘’Just starting her career and might be getting the homewrecker title if someone finds out.’’

‘’I won’t let that happen.’’

‘’How? You are gonna be more careful or will you cut it out and go back to your wife and three kids?’’ When Ackles didn’t respond, Eric sighed. ‘’Just stop this, Jensen. Let her go.’’

Jensen scoffed humorlessly. ‘’I can’t.’’

Kripke felt like talking to a teenager. He shook his head as he got up. ‘’Do you have any idea what you’re doing here? This could destroy your family, destroy Y/N’s chance to make a name when you already have your own. That’s selfish in all proportions, Jensen!’’

‘’I know, I know.’’

‘’She deserves more than this and —’’

‘’I know.’’

‘’You are gonna mess up everyone’s lives —’’

‘’I know!’’ He slammed the table and winced, turning around with his hands on his head. If only he could stop his thoughts for a second and reorganize his feelings. ‘’Do you think it doesn’t rip my heart out that I can’t love her?’’

‘’Who?’’ The burning question was ready to set everything ablaze. ‘’You can’t love Y/N, or you can’t love your wife anymore, Jensen?’’

He couldn’t love you in public. He couldn’t love Danneel anywhere. Love just escaped through his reaches when you spoke his name like a prayer, and it was time to accept that.

‘’Both.’’

NO CHICK FLICK MOMENTS: SOLDIER BOY AND CANGACEIRA TALK ABOUT WHAT TO EXPECT FROM THEIR RELATIONSHIP

‘’It's amazing to portray with Jensen. I’ve watched Supernatural since I was like twelve, which probably isn't advisable.’’ You chortled, answering the reporter’s question. Your body could barely contain your excitement under your skin, although, why would you want that? You did it. You got the job you had dreamed and worked hard for. To a bonus, you were working with Jensen Ackles! If there was someone that had earned the right to scream to the sky until your face was the color of the red carpet your heels currently stood on, it was you. ‘‘I was even a Samgirl!’’

Jensen faked a gasp next to you, a light spectrum surrounding the interview. ‘’Really? Me too!’’

You pushed his shoulder playfully while he chuckled. ‘’Anyway, I'm very excited to be here and portray a strong latina superhero. The representation’s very important, and to be able not only to cherish it, but to be a part of it doing what I love and inspiring people like me is… mythical.’’

‘’Wow, woman!’’ Ackles pursed his lips, clapping a little before shifting his gaze from you to the reporter. ‘’She likes the big words. I swear, dude. She’ll just come and in like, a casual conversation, say something like gelid or whilst, and then she's gonna say dumbass. Both sound smart as heck.’’

You winked. ''It's the accent. Makes everything sound nice.”’

Jensen nodded but was quick to sprinkle in an incendiary remark to his compliments. ‘’Yeah, I have never seen someone confuse coach and couch before. Go sit on the coach got a lot of wrong ideas.’’

‘’Hey, you sat on the coach!’’

‘’Because I’m a good boy.’’

You rolled your eyes despite the grin on your lips. ‘’Sure, mister hours-to-get-ready.’’

‘’Hey, plenty of face masks are needed to keep this — ’’ He pointed at his face. ‘’at fourteen.’’

‘’All I hear is that you’re old.’’ Your eyebrows knitted together. Jensen licked his lips at the sight. On any other day, he’d pick you up, say I’m gonna show you who’s old, and enjoy where your teasing had gotten you two, but he couldn’t do it now. You’d get what was coming to you after the event, perhaps even under the table if your dress allowed it, or in the bathroom, if you kept going.

The mischievous smirk on your cherry-stained lips proved that you knew what was going through his mind. God, you were his sweet death. Nonetheless, Jensen sighed dramatically and looked at the camera. ‘’This is what I have to deal with every day.’’

The reporter went on, happily surprised about how comfortable you and Jensen seemed together. Usually, new coworkers were timider around each other during interviews, especially when they were a romantic pair. The journalist decided to try getting a little sneak peek of the couple aspects of Soldier Boy and Cangaceira.

‘’It's definitely interesting.’’

‘’But not in the best way.’’ The only thing more messed up than Jensen’s relationship with you was the correlation between your characters. At least you and he had the purity of love, even if it was twisted enough to turn heads and churn stomachs

‘’Certainly not in the best way.’’ You agreed, bringing him back into reality as always. ‘’It's really nice to explore a couple that doesn't consist of two white people getting to it like most main characters of the shows in our current climate. It’s not the kind of relationship you should be rooting for — not because it's interracial or anything, that's pretty much the biggest, if not only, positive aspect about those two — but because they aren’t healthy at all, just as all main relationships in our show. It's not a romance series, and we certainly don't treat our couples like it.’’

‘’Told you she is the beauty and the brains.’’ His cheeks dimpled with joy and pride as he looked at you. Jensen knew how excitedly nervous you were about that interview. He couldn’t wait to tell you how great you were like you were born to sell dreams and magazines. ‘’But yeah, it’s a messed up relationship like any other in The Boys. After all, it's not a respectful, wholesome show. It's about gritty superheroes that ain’t got heroism. Soldier Boy isn't a good guy, and it translates in his relationship too.’’

You nodded in agreement, brushing his arm to keep you sane. ‘’It’ll be an interesting dynamic to see on-screen to our show standards, but it's not an actual picture of how a relationship should be.’’

THE BOYS 100TH EPISODE PARTY!

The glimmer of his green comet eyes caught your undivided attention in the throngs of people. The crowd had gathered for his family, his arm around his wife's waist as you both shared a tender, stolen look. You savored her wine and yearned for the man in her arms.

It was just a small celebration due to COVID’s lasting effects on public events. People from the set and their significants together were in the Ackles house for a couple of drinks, small talk, and a cake with The Boy’s comics printed on it.

‘’Aunt Y/N!’’ JJ tugged your dress, her mix of Danneel and Jensen’s features almost haunting your soul. Almost. You would never despise a kid for that — you didn’t even have the right to. If anything, JJ was the one that would graduate to hating you someday. You didn't have enough youthful stupidity not to know the risks of being in love with a married man. ‘’Auntie!’’

You leaned in the most that you could with the red skirt, glancing at the child. ‘’Yes, honey?’’

‘’That’s my new Barbie! I bought a beach one! She looks like you!’’ the blonde kid said with a childish joy that ached in your heart. You could end up destroying her family’s stability if Jensen went any further, yet there she was; buying dolls that looked like you and so happily babbling about it.

You were a monster. Love opened you up and planted greedy seeds, and now you were a monster growing like a beautiful tree that could never be strong enough to hold a kid as they climbed up. The fact that you could sense Jensen’s eyes on your ass didn’t help one bit.

‘’She does! That’s so cute, JJ.’’

‘’You can be her. I have one who looks like mommy, I’ll be her, ‘kay?’’

Your nausea was replaced by a pageant smile and a nod, and so you spent the night sharing longing stares with the dad and playing dolls with the daughter. It was a role that was never yours.

ILLICIT AFFAIR? JENSEN ACKLES SEEN ON THE BEACH WITH Y/N Y/L/N

‘’I can’t believe you did this to me, to our family,‘’ Danneel screamed exasperatedly as she threw her clothes in a bag and heart on the wall. Jensen just stood there, accepting the deserved fury. ‘’Ten years of my life, Jensen, and you just threw it away for a mistress! I gave up on my job to be a stay at home mom because you didn’t want a babysitter. I supported you in every moment. I loved you!’’

‘’I’m sorry…’’

‘’You don’t get to be sorry,” she howled, glaring at him with the hatred of an overthrown nation. She felt like he got to the podium and forgot to say her name. ‘’You let that woman get in my house, drink my wine, talk to my children…’’

Reflexively, he said, ‘’Our.’’

‘’Shut the fuck up! There’s no ours anymore, no us!’’ Her words had garnered a learned violence, much louder than the sound of the zipper closing her duffel bag. She threw the CC exclusive on the floor, holding onto the handle for dear life. He didn’t deserve to see her breaking, only her anger. ‘’You destroyed our family, you destroyed me!’’

He pleaded, unable to discern if it was for her or the guilt: ‘’Dee.’’

‘’I hope you’re happy. I hope you go to her, get her to sleep on our bed, and be happy for a month.’’ She gulped, pursing her lips. Her glossy eyes coupled with the pink hue of her lipstick brought back a treacherous memory of their wedding day. ‘’And then, I hope she cheats, like you did to me.’’

The next headline didn’t call it love.

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years

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DEAR FISH FUCKERS, YOU’RE WELCOME

I’ve done what no other has done before (to my knowledge) and found the aging system for the Zora!

Ok so this started as simple research for this ask

See, I misread the phrasing of “best educated guess” to “research for 2 hours and come to a conclusive answer” so anyhow before I indulge you into the answers of the universe allow me to explain the research I’ve come across

[TL;DR at the bottom]

So firstly, we have to look at our conclusive evidence, from which we’ll base our theory/headcanon on, which can mainly be found in the Creating a Champion book, and some dialogue in game. I’ve compiled them all in these bullets here

Zora children are around 20ish years old [as said by dialogue with Finley in her love letter sidequest, I don’t have a screenshot but please just take my word for it]

150ish is considered middle-aged for Zora

Muzu is around 4 centuries old

Curved claws, weathered fins, and worn noses are signs of an older Zora that is more than 3 centuries(ish) old

Zora that were friends with Link must be around 150ish (not just 100), since you need to also account for the 20+ years of growing from a child stage, to the more normal sized form that you see them in the game, ergo, it’s that age plus the 100 years stasis that we determine the “middle age” of around 150

150 is the middle age, double that for the average old age of 300 years, but I say it could go to 400 too for additional reasons I’ll explain later with examples with my final age system. Anyhow, Muzu is around 400 if you take the 100 years for actually growing up from childhood, additional 100+ years of holding a different job as I doubt you just straight out hire a councilman without experience, and then another century for where he first started working in in the council, training Mipha, which would overlap with the period of the pre and post Great Calamity and Link’s return, meaning that’s 3 centuries plus 50ish years if we’re being generous with the overlap. This would help line up with the “for over a century” line as that doesn’t quite mean 2 centuries of working in the council, but Muzu is definitely getting up there to 4 centuries for his age alone

Now, I thought, this was gonna be my breakthrough, this screenshot here, depicting the traits of the older Zora. The elderly Zora are probably around 3 centuries old (since King Dorephan said they were young men around Mipha’s time, 150ish+100 gives us the range of 250-300), so I was like “Oh l can look at the size of their fins and noses and head/tail things and find a more efficient way to find their age” but nOPE. There is very little variation in that ballpark, the Zora either have exaggerated weathered noses or nice and shiny fins and no in between. The size of their head fins are roughly the same, with again, the only exaggerated differences being with the King and Sidon which doesn’t help at all because the Royal Zora already have a bunch of other difference such as their SIZE to name one.

I even went to the part about their curved toes, which initially would line up with some other Zora like Muzu

And let me tell you

I’ve looked at their toes

This is them from a child, a middle-aged, and an elderly. Color doesn’t matter and the curve? Well there’s

BARELY A DIFFERENCE

At least not nearly enough to find an efficient way to find age. Even Muzu’s final model didn’t have the exaggerated curvature as seen in the book.

I looked at their tail tail fins, (not the tail on their head, but their actual small rounded tail fin by their butts) because the book also mentioned how the grown Zora have more pronounced tail fins compared to the kids, but it was the same for the 150s and the 300s sooo not that helpful

So I kept digging. In the book I found that King Dorephan was crowned around 100 years before the game started. In addition I reread the 10 Zora stone monuments and found that he had killed a Guardian with his bare hands and thrown it off a cliff, which he still had a scar from.

[and yes I attempted to find his definitive age by seeing how long it takes for a scar to fade but I gave up cause Zora anatomy is too different to find a conclusive answer]

So I was like, “ok Dorephan had to have been around 150 when he came to the throne, then 50 years later the guardians are excavated giving way to the story about the guardian...” blah blah blahbla I even went to the supposed site where that guardian was, but it all didn’t really give me that much more info than what I already knew. I was researching ways to age the rock monuments from visuals alone which needless to say is pretty impossible, so I gave up on finding Dorephan’s age and I kept digging.

All I wanted was something physical that could properly give way to identifying a Zora’s age was that too much to ask???

Now this is where I had all but given up, it seems that my only answer was this vague note about how their fins move up when they grow

Which, to be fair, held true when I looked at the in-game character models myself, but I can’t exactly pixel measure these things for each Zora.

But THAT’S where the revelation came. I was so focused on finding inconsistencies within the elderly Zora, when I should have been looking at the young baby ones. See, this pictures, literally right next to the page about elderly Zora that I was analyzing for ages, is the key to it all

Now, I was thinking about the rings on a tree, and certain species of banded fish that grow and discard different markings as they grow older, I even counted the neck rings on certain Zora to see if they did that thing where they add a ring for each birthday like some African and Asian cultures do (look it up, that stuff’s pretty interesting!) and that is where it struck me.

Count how many luminescent markings are on their head

The males have 11, the females have 8 (on the one side, the other side has the same number of dots but for simplicity purposes I’m doing one side)

Now let’s count for these Zoras, who are middle aged-ish

The male has 10, the female has 7.

Now let’s look at the oldest Zora that we know of

3 dots above the eye, four on the tail. Muzu that motherfucker has 7 damn dots and I couldn’t be happier.

MY DUDES, GALS, AND PALS THIS IS IT, I’VE CHECKED AND DOUBLE CHECKED WITH NEARLY EVERY ZORA I COULD AND THE NUMBER OF LUMINESCENT MARKINGS ON THEIR HEAD CORRESPONDS WITH THE AMOUNT OF CENTURIES THEY’VE LIVED, LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY DOWN TO THE DOT

First we have Muzu, who as I’ve preciously stated is around 4 centuries old. 11-4? Oh, it’s seven, and that’s the amount of markings he has? OOoo??

How about this Zora Lady who recognized Link from 100 years ago?

Seven dots? 8-7 is 1 so shes just over one century which lines up timeline wise. You can even see how the third dot is slowing shrinking on her head so she’s coming up on 2 centuries

Ok how about the elders?

NINE. 11-9 is 2 centuries, with again, the dot by their head shrinking significantly showing how they’re getting up on 3 centuries.

The part I circled in green there is jewelry, not a marking, however this only goes further to prove my point. What better way to appear youthful than to have jewelry that makes it look like you have more markings than you have, made with luminous stone, no less.

This guy? Seggin? Super close to 4 centuries, those dots are fading away fast. Count your days old timer

Random dude that doesn’t recognize Link but is an new apprentice for sculpture making? 10 dots, a fresh 1 century pal, lookin young

I was a feral child running across the Domain screaming people’s ages in their face like a rude, naive, brat, I was elated to say the least. Especially since this system even works on the King himself

[plus one dot slightly behind the fin here...]

King Dorephan has 7 dots, he’s 400 years old. Which still lines up timeline wise, especially since he’s similar age with Muzu who he has stated is one of his most trusted advisors, beecaaaaaaaause of the years they’ve spent working together the timelines match uppppppp

This system works for almost all Zora, with 2 exceptions. Guards have helmets that cover their markings, so it’s impossible to tell. In addition, Prince Sidon, has sixteen lights on this hammerhead because he’s fancy like that (we already know he’s canonically 2ish centuries old anyhow from the DLC)

EDIT: I WAS WRONG THIS WORKS FOR SIDON TOO. The sixteen markings I was referring to was actually the amount of marking on each side of the head total, however if we look at the markings for only one side, like intended

Ten dots, Sidon’s over 100 years old. I’d say he’s closer to 150 given the timeline

Essentially, the most surefire way to find almost any Zora’s age is to identify a male or female Zora, count the number of lights on the side of their head/tail thing, then subtract from 11 if they’re a male, and from 8 for a female. The number left is how many centuries they’ve lived. You can check to see if their markings are shrinking and fading to get a sense if they’re coming up on the next century anytime soon. Comparing this with the oldest Zora we see in game, we can conclusively say that the Zora lifespan is around 3 to 4 centuries since no Zora has been seen with less than seven markings

Now go and make your Zora ocs with your appropriate number of lights. I’m gonna have a cookie

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #zora #zora botw #botw theory #botw headcanon #no fuck that this IS canon

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nativerse · 3 years

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Letters From Mabe to Tabantha

Hi everyone! I’m finally able to post the piece I wrote for @memorabiliazine, as preorders have started shipping! It tells the story of a woman who has moved from Tabantha Village to Mabe Village, through letters she has written to her childhood friend. I wanted this story to focus on the life of an ordinary person living in Hyrule, years and years before the calamity started. We often think of the people in Hyrule in the context of the horrors that happened to them, and the ways in which they survived, but what about the times when they experienced life ordinarily, not defined by the calamity they were destined to live through?

I absolutely loved writing this— please enjoy!

My dear friend,

The air in Mabe is so different, but I’m becoming acquainted. Here it envelops every breathing thing, thick like honey, sunshine and expansive sky, but I am accustomed to the crispness and cold frost of Tabantha. I write to you now as I sit, at my window, as little spots of light flicker through the trees and onto the objects of my house, illuminating them strangely, as with everything else in this town that light touches. Life here is so different, and the softness of the air has yet to become a friend to me. Increasingly, I long to feel something familiar, anything recognizable, but only one thing has caught my eye—

To the north I can see the spires of Hyrule Castle. I remember fondly, in our youth, when we would sit and watch the sun rise in the east, silhouetting the castle beautifully. We dreamt of a life within those walls. Now, as the veil of distance and childhood is lifted, a life like that does not seem as inviting… But I still have caught myself staring at those tall, arched windows from time to time, looking to catch a glimpse of movement. I wonder if the princess wishes she was someone like us. Maybe a little bit of my younger self is still alive in me, deep down.

You would love it here, in the warm verdure. Beyond the boundaries of this village we are surrounded by fields for miles, and from here I can see the long grasses sway like the ocean. I know Tabantha lies past those fields, and I know you are there, too, somewhere on the horizon. I am not as far away as I feel. There are so many people here, more than there ever were at home… Even now, I hear my neighbors laughing in the streets below. But I still cannot dispense this feeling of isolation. It is clinging to me like my memories of Tabantha, and my memories of you.

I will see to it that this is sent to you, and I await your response. I think I will catch one of the merchants moving west and put this letter in their care, so it will arrive swiftly. It has only been a few nights, but loneliness is not something to be underestimated. I’m afraid I will forget your face by the time we meet again.

I am thinking of you, always.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

The seasons are truly changing in this part of Hyrule. This morning I awoke to quite an affirming blanket of snow on the ground, and I realized just how long it has been since I’ve seen a landscape like the one in Mabe today. It was a soft reminder of home, one I am already hesitant to let go of... No matter how life presented itself in Tabantha Village, there was certain reassurance found in that monotony of snow.

This may sound strange, but late at night, when I am on the edge of sleep, I can see those white, rolling hills of the village so vividly. I see the mountains and the icy rivers of Hebra, just as I did in childhood, I see my hands, my footprints in the snow, I see my mother’s face, whole and reflective like the moon. I see yours.

I dreamt last night I was sitting on that river bank above Hebra Plunge, staring down at myself in the water. It felt so real, but some bitter reason, no matter what I did, I could not recognize my own reflection. I was an outsider to my own body and mind, occupying a world I had no place in, looking down at someone I did not know. I continue to ask myself what this could mean, but I remain with only questions, and no answers...

I woke from sleep with a sort of residual homesickness, the kind that makes your whole body ache. As much as I wish I could dispense of that feeling for good, there was still something comforting about waking up to find that snow had fallen. The world greeted me at dawn as if it was an old friend.

Remember to stay warm.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

I was walking home the evening before last, watching birds circle high above me, and a memory surfaced, one I have not thought of in years—

Do you remember during those warmer months, when your father would let us accompany him on his trips towards the Tabantha frontier? Those were the days when we hadn’t travelled anywhere outside of the village, and every excursion past the boundaries of home felt like a lifetime to my childhood mind. I was too young at the time to remember what the occasions for these trips were, and as we grew older I never thought to ask, but the memories from such trips still linger… We would fall asleep as we left home and wake up as the highest tower of Rito Village came into view from behind the mountains. That feeling has stayed with me since then, along with the warm smell of pine and dust in the air. No matter how much time goes on, I don’t believe I’ll ever forget it.

I remember wanting to see everything, and touch everything I could. Life felt so big and overwhelming and unknown, and we had only just begun to explore it. I wonder, would you want to go back and experience that feeling again, if it were possible? Even for just a moment? The world feels much smaller now than it did years ago— Or maybe now, I simply take up more space in it.

The passage of time recently has become obvious to me. It is hard to believe I’ve been in Mabe for almost two years. It has begun to feel like home here, but I believe part of my soul will always remain in Tabantha, buried somewhere deep in the snow…

I’m sorry. You tell me to look towards the future, but I cannot help dwelling on these old memories. Time passes by so quickly, and the only choice we’re given is to continue along with it. We will never be children again, this I know. Isn’t it strange how something can be so beautiful, yet so heartbreaking, all at once?

It is difficult to put into words how all of this made me feel on my way home. I just kept walking, and kept watching the birds.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

Have I ever told you about the view from my bedroom window? When the air is clearest I am able to see all the way across Hyrule Field towards the Tabantha Hills from this spot on my bed. Years ago, on slower afternoons, I would go out into that big sea of billowing grasses and sit down, and watch wild horses graze in the distance, and imagine what the journey would be like if I walked all the way back to you. A fleeting, sunlit moment of peace in a life otherwise full of confusion... I do not have the time anymore for such excursions, but I do still think about it once every so often…

Time continues to pass quickly, to no one’s surprise. Last winter, my neighbors had a son. I see them daily, and it astounds me how fast he is growing. On the days when they need help looking after him, I bring him to Hylia River just east of here, to let him wade around in the shallow water and chase frogs. I love watching him experience the world with such perfect, fragile simplicity… I often imagine what kind of person he will be when he’s older, but for now it is enough just to watch him babble and laugh. One day he will be different, just as we all will be. More than anything, I want the world to nurture him gently as he lives in it. How beautiful it is, the ability to grow up.

I have a question to ask you, one that I have been considering for some time now. I know your birthday is quickly approaching, and in the past we have always settled for sending gifts back and forth… But, would you like it if I made a visit home this year, in time to celebrate with you? I feel terrible that I have not offered sooner, but the occasion to do so always seemed to pass me by without warning.

Please let me know. We have been apart for far too long.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

I can hardly wait to see you again. In packing up my things, I came across my old coat in the back of my wardrobe, the one your mother made for me. There has not been a need for it in this fair Mabe weather, but I never had it in me to give it away… It still holds that faint smell of charcoal I had forgotten about…

How much have you changed since I left all those years ago? I wonder, do you still have the first letter I wrote? As embarrassing as it is to say, I’ve kept all of yours. They serve as good medicine for when I find myself thinking of Tabantha. I try to imagine your voice speaking to me as I read them, but what a relief it will soon be to hear it from your own mouth instead.

I’m counting down the days. By the time you read this, I will most likely already be on my way...

Sent with great anticipation and all of my love

#my writing #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #memorabilia zine #botw zine #loz zine #natpost #thanks for having me!!! (つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

disappearing trick — SaguKai

━━━━━━━

fandom | magic kaito

pairing | kuroba kaito x hakuba saguru

genre | angst to fluff :3

w.c | 2.1k

━━━━━━━

It was a heist went wrong.

So, so wrong.

There were explosions and gunshots, all of which Hakuba was about 99.99% sure wasn’t in KID’s itinerary of the night. He remembered catching a glimpse of a torn white cape, the grimace of pain clear as day despite the lack of helicopters overhead, and men dressed in black.

“KID—!” Hakuba had yelled, which, looking back, was not the smartest thing he could’ve done. The barrels of two guns instantaneously locked on him, much to the phantom thief’s horror.

It seemed like it was the end for Hakuba Saguru.

But of course, KID always loved to meddle in things that didn’t involve him. And so he did what he always did best.

KID was a performer, after all. He specialised in attracting his audience’s attention to him. Flashing a cocky smirk towards Hakuba’s direction, even though there was a stream of blood trickling down his cheek, the phantom thief disappeared into the night with a loud bang, taking the two men with him.

Kuroba Kaito was ‘kidnapped’ the same night.

According to Aoko, who had been in the Nakamouri house when the teen was attacked, there had been a loud crash, gunshots, and yelling. The girl had hid under the kitchen counter in fright, hoping and praying with all her heart that Kaito hadn’t been home at the time of the break-in.

As it turned out, he was.

The crime scene investigators turned Kuroba’s house upside down, finding multiple signs that the teen boy had been shot, if the splatters of blood (That all had Kaito’s DNA) was any indication. It was also concluded by the investigators that Kaito put up a hell of a fight, as there were signs of his magic tricks all through the house.

Hakuba was still being treated for shock at the heist location when Detective Nakamouri received a call from his devastated, hysterical daughter, who sobbed so loudly through the phone that the blonde detective overheard.

It was only one disaster after another.

For once, Hakuba chose to stay out of the crime scene, instead stroking Aoko’s back as comfortingly as he could, trying not to think about Kaito’s body, abandoned in some dark alley dumpster. His coat was soaked through with splotches of her tears, but he didn’t care much, because he himself felt like crying, too.

━━━━━━━

School the next day was eerily quiet. Practically everyone had heard of Kaito’s kidnapping, and if they didn’t, Aoko’s swollen eyes were a dead giveaway that something had happened to the playful teen. The teacher kept glancing up, as if she was waiting for an interruption, only to flick her eyes onto the empty seat at the corner of the classroom. The topic lingered like a dark cloud above the classroom, and no one dared to even mention the name ‘Kaito’ when Aoko was within hearing distance.

“He’s alive.”

Hakuba glanced up after a few moments of silence, realising that Akako was talking to him. “What?”

“Kuroba.” Akako continued impatiently. “He’s alive.”

The blonde detective couldn’t help but snort. “And how did you come to that conclusion? Did your crystal ball tell you that?”

Judging by the glare the female shot in his direction, she didn’t appreciate his snark, but Hakuba just couldn’t be bothered at the moment. “He won’t go down this easily.” Akako stated, as if she’d seen Kaito alive with her own two eyes. Granted, the image hadn’t exactly been clear when she used her seer powers on him, but she could go as far as saying that the magician was still breathing.

“Look. He was shot.” Hakuba interrupted emotionlessly. “Even if the gunshot wasn’t fatal, he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“He won’t go out that easily. You’ll see.”

━━━━━━━

Kuroba Kaito was pronounced dead after three months. KID went back into retirement— At least, that’s what the KID division announced after no sight of any heist in the horizon.

After a long consideration, Hakuba decided to leave Japan behind— Along with the memories of KID and Kaito— And return to Britain. Some would call him cowardly, and he would admit, yes, it was cowardly of him to run away like that, but as far as he was concerned, he didn’t care what others thought of him.

Sure, Aoko was a little upset, but Akako had reassured her that she wasn’t going anywhere. He did feel a little bad for leaving Nakamouri behind— All her friends were disappearing, one by one, after all—

Disappearing.

That was KID’s— Kaito’s last trick, Hakuba thought tearily, hastily ushering the tears away as he packed the last of his clothes into the luggage bag. A disappearing trick gone wrong— And the phantom thief KID, Kuroba Kaito— Two sides of the same coin— Dropped off the surface of the planet, never to be heard from again.

But there was no point in crying over spilled milk anymore.

“Saguru-kun, there’s a man looking for you outside.” His housekeeper knocked on the door, informing him monotonously. “He said he has a few things to tell you before you leave Japan.”

A quick peer out of the window gave him a glimpse of dark brown hair— A familiar stature and height, a relaxed pose—

Hakuba had never dashed out of his room that fast in his entire life. All composure and calamity was forgotten as he practically barrelled down the stairs, narrowly missing a few boxes of belongings he had wrapped up the days prior. The door burst open with a tremendous bang! as Hakuba hurried down the front steps of his house, hoping, praying, pleading that the face that he would meet belonged to—

“Kudou-kun?” The tone of disappointment couldn’t be avoided as Hakuba remembered just how alike the detective and the magician looked. If he was asked, the two were definitely genetically related at some degree or another. “How may I help you today?” His tone was terribly strained; he had had expectations, and he had been let down.

Kudou Shinichi, as the great detective that rivalled many others, took quick note of Hakuba’s inner turmoil. “Hakuba-kun. I have news that you might want to... Think about before you leave Japan.”

“Go on.” Hakuba said bitterly. Nothing could stop him from leaving Japan, he thought. Not when every corner reminded him of the man that kept him on his feet.

“Kuroba Kaito is very much alive.” Kudou said casually, with no prior preparation or whatsoever. Hakuba looked as if he was just hit by a freight train, stunned and dazed by the words that destroyed everything he knew about life. “He’s been staying undercover to help the FBI take down the Black Organisation, who, as if seems, was after Pandora as well. Because he’s been missing for three months, its’ going to be very hard for him to explain his absence— So he has requested for me to pass you this letter in his stead.”

The thoughts running through Saguru’s head as the slim letter was received into his head were wild. Kaito was alive? He was involved with the FBI? What was the Black Organisation— And forget the Black Organisation, what the hell was Pandora? And why couldn’t Kaito have passed him the letter himself?

“Well, I’m going to get going.” Kudou smiled gently. “See you around, Hakuba-kun.”

━━━━━━━

It seems like your detective skills have mellowed since my absence, Hakubastard. Your observational ability is... Mediocre, to say the least. Anyway, I suppose I should provide you with an explanation (Although I would love to go world-hopping and leave you in pursuit of the truth for the rest of your life), but I guess I owe you this much after just upping and leaving like that. Those gun wounds hurt like hell, but they weren’t going to nuff this magician up that easily. I still had a couple tricks up my sleeve— It was nice seeing you all worried about me, though! So you do care~

Anyway, its still not too safe for me to appear publicly in Japan. I’ve sent a letter to Aoko, so don’t worry about filling her in. I left the meeting location in your bedroom. Exactly a month from now. Better set a reminder on that pocket watch of yours, tantei.

With love malice,

Kuroba Kaito

“My bedroom...?” Hakuba murmured to himself, realisation striking like a flash of lightning. A quick inspection of his room turned out with a slip of yellow paper: Rivals shall meet once more, in the romantic city people adore; When the clock strikes a quarter and by the Seine shop corner.

Saguru rushed over to his bedroom window, eyes flicking up and down the nearby streets to find Kudou Shinichi’s silhouette, but he came up empty handed— For that wasn’t Kudou Shinichi at all... Because who else would break into his bedroom just to leave a riddle?

It didn’t take long for Hakuba to figure out the time, date, and location— Kudou— No, Kaito had said so himself. Exactly a month from then— In the ‘romantic city people adore’— Which would be Paris— ‘clock strikes a quarter’— At a quarter of a day, which would be 6am— And by the ‘Seine shop corner’— So at a coffee shop next to River Seine.

“Baa-san!” Saguru called out into the manor, a smile on his face. “Cancel my flight ticket and book one to Paris instead.”

━━━━━━━

Paris at 6am was quite the pretty sight. The sun was barely rising over the horizon, little splays of light shimmying over the river surface, bathing Paris in a fine, gold threads of sunshine. Not that many cafes were open at the crack of dawn, which made it even easier for Saguru to track down his cafe.

The little coffee shop by the Seine provided an amazing view as Saguru enjoyed his morning coffee. He had taken a seat outside the cafe, the streets silent in a peaceful, docile manner, early birds already leaving their nests for the worms that were promised.

The latte in his hands felt warm, inducing heat into his frozen fingers. Hakuba had never felt that on edge in his entire life— Would Kaito show up?

“Lovely morning, no?” An old man commented, plopping into the seat opposite Saguru. “I love watching the sunrise from here.”

Hakuba raised an eyebrow, looking for details of a disguise. The fat seemed genuine— The voice was deep and velvety, a little rough and raspy around the edges— The wrinkles around the eyes looked authentic— But he had seen the quality of KID’s work, and he wasn’t taking his chances.

“Indeed,” Saguru agreed with a pleasant hum, French rolling off his tongue smoothly. “Say, mister, what do you think about magic tricks?”

“Ah, I think they’re quite quaint.” The old man replied in his deep voice, eyes forming crescent lines as he smiled. “What do you think of them, young man?”

Saguru placed his latte back onto the cup. “I think magic tricks are nice,” He started softly, making firm eye contact with the old man, French rolling off his tongue smoothly. “But I hate disappearing tricks the most.”

“Oh?” The old man was confused, clearly missing the memo. “Why so—?”

“Good morning, sir, can I take your order?” A voice pricked into Hakuba’s memory, triggering some sort of mechanism. It was the same tone, frequency, wavelength— The only thing different was the dialect and accent.

Saguru looked up right into Kaito’s violet eyes, the latter dressed in a waiter’s uniform. A soft smile spread over the magician’s lips as he winked, Hakuba’s jaw dropping as his gaze returned to the man in front of him.

“Ah, a cappuccino please. And one slice of carrot cake.”

“Of course.” Kaito nodded pleasantly. “Right away, sir. And you?”

Hakuba took longer to find his voice than he would’ve liked. “Just a cup of black coffee, please.”

“Is that all?” Kaito hummed, scribbling down the orders on a piece of paper.

“Yes, thank you.”

Hakuba laid back against the chair, a sigh slipping from his lips as he smiled continuing his conversation with the old man, who was still very much confused.

“Ah, but I find disappearing tricks interesting,” The old man commented, chuckling slightly. “It’s always so magical when the reappearance happens, no?”

The blonde detective hummed, watching the dark-haired magician busy himself inside the shop. “I suppose I’ll have to agree with that.”

━━━━━━━

this thing has been sitting in my drafts for four months and its time for it to see the light of day~

#magic kaito #kuroba kaito #kaitou KID #kaitou 1412 #hakuba suguru #kuroba kaito x hakuba saguru #sagukai #fluff #angst #magic kaito angst #magic kaito fluff #[ris writes]—✧

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ranger-kellyn · 3 years

Note

Do you ever think about how in BOTW Robbie says in his diary he never got to say goodbye to Purah? Like- I can't. I JUST CAN'T! 😭

WHEN I TELL U I THINK ABOUT THAT NEARLY EVERY DAY I AM ONLY BARELY EXAGGERATING

i reFUSE to accept it. i think he lied in his notebook. they all write their journals like they're EXPECTING them to be read. they all LIED and i rEFUSE-

-----

have the extended wip from my very first wip wednesday based on this VERY THING

-----

Slapping her hands over her mouth was all Purah could do to smother her own laughter, watching as Robbie smacked Link in his lower back with his rolled-up notebook.

“I’m starting to think I liked it better when you kept your nose outta things!” Robbie said, huffing and puffing his entire way back to his chair.

“I’m sorry!” Link said, keeping his distance out of swatting range.

Robbie swatted at the air, grumbling again.

Looking over at Link, all Purah could do was grin. “What’cha get into this time, Linky?” she asked.

He crossed his arms, face flushed with embarrassment.

“Journals I never said he could read!” Robbie answered, getting another laugh from Purah.

“How was I supposed to distinguish that from all your other mess of papers that you said I could?” Link asked.

The look Robbie shot her was that of, ‘Can you believe this guy?’

She shook her head. “Now he’s done it to both of us…”

Robbie continued to fuss at Link, all the way until Jerren and Zelda came to his rescue, dragging him along on their trip to Skull Lake to further investigate the shrine that was there.

Given it had been over 100 years since they last saw one another, Purah opted to stay behind with Robbie to continue catching up.

For the both of them, seeing one another after so long was...odd, at best; but in the same breath, odd always accompanied their relationship in some way, pre-calamity and post-calamity, so it wasn’t too hard to find a rhythm with one another again.

On Purah’s end, it was odd seeing Robbie as he was now. As a little old man, with a wife and a kid. (Never mind the part where his wife had been her assistant at one time)

For Robbie, even though he was fully aware of her experiment that had led to her physically reverting to a child, nothing could have prepared him to see her looking almost exactly as she did the day they last saw one another, the only key difference being a lack of dye in her hair and on her nails.

“What was he even getting into, anyway?” Purah asked, setting her cup of tea on the table separating them.

Unrolling the notebook, he leaned forward to place them down, angled to where she could read the first page -an invitation to continue reading if she wanted. “Just an old journal detailing coming out here and whatnot. My fault for having it out, I guess.”

Waiting for him to lean back, she looked down at it. “Can I?” she asked.

He nodded. “Go ahead. Nothing good in there, anyways. Just a lot of guilt,” he said, tugging at her heart.

She knew the feeling all too well. Far too many of her early journals were just detailed rants about the guilt she felt about not having done enough to stop the calamity.

As she began to read the first few pages, a smile tugged at her lips. His writing always tended to be more...poetic. Writing tended to be the only place he ever properly gathered his thoughts, whereas when speaking he could easily get off on one tangent, only to go down six other tangents before finally getting to the point.

It was one of many things that helped them get along, seeing as she was no better in the manner.

“Pushy? Me a pushy woman?” She asked, her grin evident in her tone.

He crossed his arms, returning the grin. “Don’t even pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he said.

She rolled her eyes in a playful manner. “I have never been pushy a day in my life. Especially not when it came to you,” she teased.

He chuckled. “Pushiest damn woman I’ve ever worked with,” he said.

When she looked up at him over the notebook, it occurred to him that, a lifetime ago, the look would have been more than enough to drive him mad in only the best kind of way. In only the way Purah ever did.

“Oh, please, you liked it. You wouldn’t have rolled over so easily if you didn’t. Mister Rebel Without A Cause only ever let me push him around,” she added.

“You and now my wife, apparently,” he said, thinking nothing of the comment.

Purah hesitated, re-reading the same line she had been on again. “That’s because I trained her first,” she said.

She re-read the line again, still not absorbing any of the words, too suddenly consumed with the thought of her oldest partner marrying and having a child with her old assistant. An assistant who was fifty years younger than the both of them.

If there was one major drawback of suddenly being so much younger, physically, it was that her emotions had distinctly become harder to control again. All the experience from her lifetime wasn’t enough when faced with a frontal lobe that wasn’t fully developed again.

A frontal lobe that only wanted to scream about how wrong all of it was. A frontal lobe that was competing with the knowledge that the calamity had forced people into odd situations, good, bad, and indifferent.

Robbie and Jerren were merely a product of the calamity; two people making the best of a bad situation neither had any control over and--

She re-read the line for a third time, finally registering a few words.

Though, it was thanks to her third re-read that she realized something: this wasn’t Robbie’s writing.

At least, it wasn’t his writing from when it would have been written.

Despite his hasty nature, his handwriting had always been immaculate. Neat, flowing letters, always in a perfect line even without some sort of paper line to guide him.

This handwriting was...scratchier. Some things didn’t connect the way they would have in the past. It wasn’t like his current handwriting, but it was better…

As she turned the page to continue reading, she hesitated.

Up to that point, she knew his account wasn’t entirely accurate, but had chalked it up to emotions getting in the way.

The way he described their parting, however, was an outright lie.

“Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice that Dr. Purah had slipped away. I knew Hateno Village wasn't much farther along the road, and that the Calamity had barely touched that area... So I felt safe letting her continue on her own. We parted ways without even saying good-bye, I suppose. Stirring myself back to action, I set out on my own journey back to Kakariko Village.”

Closing the notebook over her finger, she looked up at Robbie. “You and I both know that’s not how we parted,” she said, keeping her voice down, as though there was even anybody to overhear.

He looked away, unable to come up with a response.

“I might have skipped over some details, but I at least implied what happened,” she continued, feeling a distinct ache in her chest, cursing her young body. She had sworn a long time ago she had put all those feelings to rest.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he carefully looked back up at her. “You know I very well couldn't have written out every little detail like some trashy novel-”

“Like I said, I at least implied…” she defended.

Though, there had been a journal, long ago, right after she set up in Hateno, where she detailed everything. From everything the two of them had done, to every emotion she had forced herself to hold back from saying.

The guilt she felt from burning it in the ancient furnace nagged at her now and then.

“Don’t know why I’m trying to keep secrets after 100 years.” He adjusted himself to be more comfortable in his chair. “That’s an amended version, Cherry.”

From the other room, she just barely heard the Ancient Oven stir to life, a low grinding sound as it moved around.

Despite herself, she felt a shiver run up her spine. It had been a long time since she last heard that nickname. A nickname he had given her after she first put the red streak in her hair. A nickname she only allowed him to use.

A nickname she realized he had omitted from the journal -something he would have never done in the past.

She leaned forward again to put the notebook back in its place, her desire to read any more thoroughly quashed. “You never told Jerren about us, did you?” she asked.

“No, but in my defense, you never did, either,” he said.

“No, but I didn’t knock her up and marry her, did I?” she asked, not holding back any of the bite.

He seemed to flinch at her words.

Over 100 years later, and she could still get a rise out of him; always knowing just how to get under his skin.

And like 100 years ago, no matter how much he wanted to fight back, he rolled over.

“Jerren wasn’t even born by the time you and I had to part ways. There wasn’t a point in bringing it up,” he said.

She’d rather he just punch her in the gut.

She wanted to fight back. To yell. To lay into him for making her think that what they had never actually meant anything.

For the life of her, she couldn’t. No words would come out.

Robbie breathed a laugh. “I know that look, Cherry.” She wanted to tell him to drop the nickname. “Whatever you’re overthinking, don’t overthink it.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing herself back into her chair. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got an old man's brain! I’m over here stuck with my dumb twenty-something brain that is determined to bring up every dumb emotion I swore up and down I had buried!”

He was silent for an uncomfortably long time.

Staring at the fire crackling away in the fireplace, she nearly jumped when he said her name.

“Humor me. Come with me a minute,” he said, sliding off his chair.

She said nothing, but stood to follow him.

He led them back into the main room, where the Ancient Oven turned to greet them, their weird voice tone still grating to Purah’s ears.

“Greetings, Dr. Robbie and FamiliarNameMissing,” they said.

Robbie chuckled, regarding the machine with a look that was probably uncomfortably soft for just about anyone else. Purah, however, remembered the look well. He had always been attached to the guardians they had drug into the Royal Research Lab, giving each of them individual names.

At the time, she pretended to think it was stupid, but, secretly, she had known all the names he had given them.

“My pride and joy, the Ancient Oven. Few things I love more in life,” he said.

She breathed a laugh, uncrossing her arms.

“Jerren, though...hates it,” he continued, getting another laugh from Purah.

“Kinda figured that. The way the poor thing sprung to life after Link finally replaced the blue flame told me it hadn’t been on for a while,” she said.

It had been rather sweet; Link not even needing to be asked to do it. The second they arrived, he saw that the outside furnace wasn’t lit, and headed off without prompt. The personality adjustment was still new to everyone, but he still had his core, endearing qualities.

“Ancient Oven wasn’t her original name,” Robbie continued. “And well...I suppose you deserve the truth.”

The machine looked between the both of them, Purah now regarding her...differently.

“Ancient Oven, what’s your name?” he asked.

She focused on him. “My name is simply Ancient Oven,” she responded in her odd cadence.

He shook his head. “What’s your real name? The name I gave you?” he clarified.

She hummed for a second, a slow grind of her gears. “My name is Cherry.”

There had been considerable heat emitted from the machine before, but Purah was positive the heat she was now feeling was from her own flush.

“Why are you named that?” Robbie asked.

“I am named after the first woman you ever loved...” The machine almost seemed to hesitate.

Maybe it was a part of her programing to acknowledge everyone within her vicinity while talking.

Maybe it was pure happenstance.

Maybe the machine somehow knew.

“Cherry,” she concluded, looking straight at Purah.

If she was flushed before, she was having a full-on hot flash now.

“Don’t misunderstand me. I love Jerren dearly. I love the son she gave me more than life itself...but there will always be a part of me that belongs to you.”

Run.

She wanted to run.

She wasn’t sure what was making it so hard to breathe. The heat from Cherry, her own flush, or the knowledge that she could say the very same to him.

She wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry-- I shouldn't be here,” she said, turning on her heel to leave.

“Purah-”

“No, no- I shouldn't be here. This was stupid- I’m so fucking stupid-- I knew coming here would do this! I knew seeing you would do this,” she said, ranting her way to the door. She didn’t even bother going back for her coat, or anything else she didn’t have on her person. Zelda and Link could grab it for all she cared. She needed to get out.

“Purah, please,” he pleaded, following her to the door.

The midday air outside was far cooler thanks to the constant breeze coming off the ocean.

She looked around, searching for Mule among the horses in the nearby holding pen.

“Maybe I should have left without saying goodbye! I knew it then-- I should have made you hate me! Getting you to hate me- I should have. I should have done it.” She nearly tripped down the stairs, barely catching herself in time.

“You know damn well I could never hate you. I only ever lo-”

She instantly reared on him, talking over him so she didn’t have to hear that word. “Don’t! Don’t say it! Don’t you fucking say it!” she yelled.

Words that were all too familiar.

Words she said before.

Her eyes began to sting as she fought back tears. “I don’t care if you don’t feel it now, but don’t you dare tell me you felt it then!”

He waved his hands in exasperation. “Why? What is so damn bad about hearing me tell you how I felt?” he asked.

“Because you just don’t get it! You don’t get how pathetic I feel because I never got over you! I never moved on! I promised you I wouldn’t let you hold me back, but I lied to both of us! For over 100 years, I never moved on! I’m pathetic!” she yelled.

Only the wind dared to break the silence that followed. A soft rustle of the spring leaves. A sound far softer than her confession.

It took everything in her to not crumble in on herself. “You just don’t get it, Robbie. Maybe it was easier for you to move on, but I just...I never could.”

He grabbed a hold of the railing, but made no motion towards her. He only looked pained. “I don’t know what to say here, Purah. Nothing I can think of will make you feel better.”

#loz #tloz #hwaoc #botw #purobbie #fanfics #my fics #wip #can u believe there's gonna be MORE AFTER THIS #AND ALTERNATE ENDINGS????#it's wednesday somewhere #wip wednesday #i'll post another wip tomorrow PROPERLY but i just CANT resist sharing this

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tentimesthecourage · 3 years

Text

Mail Through Time And Space

To whoever gets this,

Hello! My name’s Rinku and I’m 8 years old! I have decided I want to send letters to people and you get the first one!

I don’t really know what to put, there’s so much I could say. I’m practicing sword play with my twin, Link. We... don’t really like it, but we do it because we want to protect everyone, especially mom and Aryll, she’s our baby sister!

I hope I can hear from you soon!

Rinku

---

Dear Rinku,

You might find this a little strange, but my name’s also Link, like your twin. I am 9 years old. Sounds like fun, sending letters to strangers, and I’m glad I got to be the first to get one!

I think you two practicing for that reason is… noble. I think that’s the right word. I’m pretty good with a sword myself! Been practicing since I was 7, how long have you been practicing?

I hope this letter finds you well.

Link

---

Dear Link,

Wow! I didn’t think I’d reach someone with the same name as my twin! Link says hi by the way. Aryll probably would too, but she can’t really talk yet.

Noble? I asked mom what that means and she said having good morals, whatever those are, but I guess that means good things so thank you!

Link and I have been practicing since we were five. Dad Father wants us to become knights when we’re older.

I… I don’t want to… but

Nevermind.

Rinku

---

Dear Rinku,

I’m sorry to hear that being a knight is being forced upon you. Sounds like your father is a bit stubborn.

I know how that feels, my father is the same, though more about teamwork than my plans for the future. Still though, I hope things can become brighter, maybe he’ll see that you and your twin’s passion lies somewhere else.

Take care,

Link

---

Dear Link,

Thanks, that really makes me feel better. Lately things have been getting… bad. I wanna tell you, but Link, my Link, doesn’t think it’s a good idea. So let’s talk about other things!

Our birthday is coming up soon! October 30th! When’s your birthday? Is it soon? I wanna be able to send you a gift!

Write back soon!

Rinku

---

Dear Rinku,

I’m sorry to hear things haven’t improved for you, but as my grandfather says, keep a stiff upper lip. There’s always a storm before a rainbow. He says strange things but he means well.

I don’t know if this’ll arrive before your birthday or after, but happy birthday regardless! I’ve put something in the envelope and hopefully it’ll stay safe.

It’s half of a kinstone, when you find the other half and fuse them together, something good will happen.

As for my birthday, it’s still months away. Mine’s March 4th

Looking forward to your next letter,

Link

---

Dear Link,

I don’t think I’ll be able to send letters as often anymore. Somehow Link and I pulled something called the ‘Master Sword’ and it split in two. Everyone’s calling us the ‘Chosen Heroes’ and telling us that we have to begin training soon.

I’m scared… I have a really bad feeling…

I hope I’ll be able to hear from you soon.

Rinku

---

Dear Link,

Hah… I don’t even know why I’m writing this. It’s been so long… a century. I doubt you're even still alive, but something in my heart urges me to write this anyway.

So much has happened, where do I even begin?

Link became the Hylian Champion at the same time that I became Captain of the Royal Guard. We barely saw each other after that, he always had to follow the princess while I had to train the troops to prepare for Calamity Ganon.

Even with everything, it didn’t matter.

We still failed.

That beast took everything from us, Hyrule is in shambles. I hope wherever you are, you’re safe.

Link was shot by a guardian, these huge metal monsters, they put him in the Shrine of Ressurection, an ancient piece of Shiekah technology that would supposedly heal him.

I fell in Kakariko… yet, here I am. Apparently they put me in a room that had some sort of Stasis similar to the Shrine.

The difference however… I remember everything.

Link remembers nothing. Not even me.

But we managed, we survived, we took on so many trials together.

And then we took on Calamity Ganon.

It’s gone now, Hyrule is finally safe, we fixed our mistake.

So why does it still feel like we failed?

I wish I could have met you…

Like I said, I don’t even know if you’re alive, I might be sending this to a dead man. But on the slim chance that I’m not…

I really hope I can see you.

Rinku

---

Fiddling with the kinstone half that he had fashioned into a necklace, Rinku sighed heavily. Nearby he could hear Link fiddling with the Slate. The two of them were relaxing on the Plateau, needing some peace and quiet.

A snapping sound caught both of their attention, as one they looked over at the source of the sound, dumbfounded to find themselves staring at a group of people. How the hell did they get up here?

“Pardon us… but would either of you be named Link?” Rinku bristled faintly, defensive as he felt Link tense beside him.

“Who wants to know-?” His terse reply was suddenly caught off by a quiet gasp from seemingly the smallest of the group.

“Rinku…?” His ears flicked and he looked over at the speaker, the guy looked like he’d seen a ghost, the way his gaze kept flicking between his face and… his necklace?

“That’s me, yes…?” He replied cautiously, well aware of the confused looks both of them were getting. He tensed as the other approached after murmuring something to the supposed. The other raised his hands passively, showing they were empty and that he meant no harm.

“Your birthday’s October 30th.”

Rinku stiffened in surprise, he was not expecting him to say that.

“You didn’t want to be a knight and neither did your twin, he has a passion for baking while you had one for sewing.” The stranger continued softly. “On your ninth birthday, you drew the Master Sword together-” They were both aware of the sharp gasp from the group behind the smaller male, but neither acknowledged them.

“Just mere days before then, you received a letter holding half a kinstone.” A soft, hopeful smile crossed his face and Rinku could swear his eyes shone with four different colors. “Kinstones are special… if you fuse two halves together…”

“...Something good will happen.” Rinku managed to finish, staring at the other in disbelief. He managed to stand and half walk, half stumble to the other. He had hoped, he had wished… could it really be…?

“Link…?”

A small laugh escaped him before he held out his arms.

“You said you wanted to meet me, right…? Hope I don’t disappoint-” He grunted softly as Rinku slammed into him, knocking them both over as he hugged him tightly.

Four winced slightly as they hit the ground together, he knew the others would be completely confused about what just happened and he’d definitely owe them an explanation, but right now, he was more focused on finally being able to meet him. Finally focusing back on him, he paused before his heart melted at the mumbling he could barely hear.

“You’re safe, you’re safe, thank the goddess, you’re safe.”

“I’m safe.” He agreed softly, gently rubbing his back. “I’m safe and you’re safe…” His voice lowered as his grip tightened slightly. “And you didn’t fail.” He felt Rinku stiffen in his arms, but pushed regardless. “Listen to me, you didn’t. You, your twin, you did everything you could, I know you did. And in the end you won.”

“But Link-” He started to protest and Four shushed him sharply.

“But Link nothing.” He replied sternly. “Yes, it took awhile, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Hyrule is safe. You’re safe, Link is safe. You won.”

Rinku sagged against him, burying his face against his shoulder. Four settled with a small sigh before blinking as his gaze met Link’s, Rinku’s Link, his twin.

-You… know my brother?- He asked, cocking his head. -You are… the one he writes to?-

“I am.” He confirmed with a nod. “My name’s Link, just like you. But they-” he nodded to the group behind them. “Call me Four.”

Link seemed to process this before he smiled and raised his hands again.

-Thank you.-

Four blinked, confused as the other continued.

-He told you what happened to us, right? About the Calamity?- At his nod, Link continued. -I think the only thing really keeping him going was the letters he had from you from a hundred years prior. He keeps them in the slate- At that, he pulled up the stone slab from his hip and turned it around so Four could see a screen. On it was the symbol of an envelope and the numbers 523. Internally, he could hear the colors flustering.

“We really wrote that much?”

“Some of them were before us, when it was just Link.”

“Yeesh, all of that…”

“...he kept them all…”

The colors quieted at Red’s words and Four fought back a shiver at the realization. Every letter from their childhood to now, Rinku had found a way to keep them all safe and sound. He tightened his hold on the younger male, overwhelmed at the emotion engulfing his heart.

A soft clearing of someone’s throat caused the trio to jump and finally turn their attention to the group once more.

“Four… perhaps it’s time for introductions?” The smith flushed faintly at the amused glint in Time’s eye.

“Ah… yes.” He managed, fighting back a pout (he did not pout, he did not) when Rinku pulled back to look at the group with a wary eye. Just because he trusted Four, didn’t mean he trusted the rest of them right away.

“Everyone… this is Link and Rinku. Twin brothers and the heroes of this Hyrule.”

His gaze met Rinku’s and he gave a half smile.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

#Rinku #LU Four #LU Wild #LU Time #but he's got the briefest part #Penpal AU #Drabble #Linked Universe

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khizumet-e · 2 years

Text

You want to hear, sera, of the greatest adventure of my life? Well, I must warn you, you will be quite disappointed by it. I would not have held it against you if you lost interest, or left. Everyone does. You will find it too, one day. But you wanted to hear of adventure. I suppose it wasn’t everyone who left, in this one, but me. Not that I made it far, trifling it must seem to you as it did to me those few times I have completed the journey since. But it was that first journey, my grand adventure, with that kindly friend of my brother’s.

You must know him –my brother, I mean, his friend buried for too long to matter now– everyone knows my brother. Charming as he is, loyal, devoted. You must have heard it all. Not as much as I have, though, the shadows of my earliest memories, my father and brother fighting. Sometimes it was about me, more often than not as time went on. I learned early but only realised late, that there was love for me but no space. Ah but I should start at the beginning, for your sake.

I was never meant to be the heir, of course not, but nor was I meant to be the spare. I never heard it from my father’s lips, died before I learned my letters or charms, and you would think my brother too dashing to sink to telling me. But somewhere I heard, everyone knew, like little drones in a skyrender hill. Hah, aren’t we all quite that.

You might have heard of my brother’s tastes. Silly now, I know, with that woman he wedded, but he must have sworn off marriage quite strongly in his youth. I would scarcely be sitting here otherwise. That was all I was ever meant to be, a begrudging afterthought, a concession made by our father to my brother, a guarantor it would be his blood that prevailed in the ruling line, not my uncle’s. Bitter mer, the both of them, but how nice it must be to be so loathed by someone they bend their lives to spite you. No, no, who would ever go to that effort for me.

Now as I said, I was young when my father died, but beyond the childish tears it did not mean much to me yet, or much for what had been decided to be my fate. My brother had done half the raising of me before then anyways, the source of his spiting I’m sure, our father’s rather coarse schemes. Not much later than that it was, that I learned how eager people were to hand me off, somewhere out underfoot.

I might have been sheltered and barely smearing my letters onto paper, but even I heard about the calamity that took him north. He even had the good graces to tell me himself, to shush me, tell me why no one else would do. How fated he made it all sound. I was too young to understand the tang of desperation in his voice. Maybe he was desperate to be rid of me.

My brother never told me why he stayed, you know. I was a child of six and my letters crooked and ungainly, and my cousin sometimes had me draw pictures to send my brother. He kept them. Just as he kept any nice words he might have sent to me, directly, not the spare morsels my cousin fed me. I think they were both content with that.

It smarted more, that abandonment, than my father’s death had. Because this time it was a choice. I still do not know why he made that choice. It’s a curious thing to grow used to, to be kept in the dark. But the rumour mills flow slower in Thorn than the brackish waters in the cisterns, so I have contented myself with not knowing. How foolish the youth. If you made me guess, now, there was a half whispered apology by a half mad man I did not recognise. I asked him if she was our sister, you know. The only thing that made sense to a child. He told me she was his, and I never asked further.

But I have strayed, haven’t I? Telling you of my lurking forgotten in the stands of others’ great adventures. I made quite the home in those wings, you see. I defied them, here and there, but what good is it to shake off complacency. As I said, I am used to being handed around. Even if one time the recipient was more fey than my kinsmen, and our acquaintance much shorter lived.

Oh yes, even my great adventure was not some dashing escape, I was only the package, in a ways. My brother had not even sent word, that he wanted me fetched, why would he, with the rumours of war starting up. But no one had much concerned themselves with me, so maybe he did write, somewhere in that stack of official correspondence. It could get lost so easily, as triflingly easy as losing your mind and heart in that paper labyrinth.

There was this guard, who ushered me outside, satchel in hand and down the ramps. We were going slower than they would have liked, those retainers, unhappy and furtive in the dark, as if they weren’t carrying out their lord’s wishes. You must know I was never particularly hale, and though we only went down and down the ramps and stairs, I was exhausted. It was late, I had not had supper, nor would I get sleep for a long while.

For the child of two soldiers my constitution was poor, my hands soft, unused to weapons. I had never been much beyond that lake outside Tear, born in the city and destined to die there, I thought. My grandfather, his life must have been quite similar, the worry and fretting, but of course I would never get to talk to him. Summoning the ghosts of the marsh, now that is the prerogative of– but I’m not here to spill secrets.

My family, you know, they were good to me. Like one might be to a prize guar, maybe, but they weren’t unkind. They just, forgot, sometimes. But they liked to blame my health, coddle me, wrap me in silks until I could no longer even see the bars of my gilded cage. And suddenly they opened the door. Put me out there, in front of that fey man on his giant wheezing mount, and left me without a word.

He did not seem kind then, as I would find him later, only thoughtful. Maybe he questioned my cousin’s senses in not sending us an escort. Not that I ever felt afraid, with that man. A friend of my brother’s, he was, from far off Mournhold, there to deliver me safely to my brother. I’d never seen a Nord before, could count the number of Kothringi I’d talked to on one hand, but he was careful as he seemed lost. A strange man, with his ruddy hair and giant beast, his charming voice that struggled where he had received a recent wound to the throat. I had never seen war.

And I would not. We flew north, along those roads, and though I had studied maps all my life, knew the material of every road, the tolls, the numbers of troops to be moved, none of that made any sense to me when I saw it in life. But the man was kind, asking me all those things people would just take for granted, or shrug off. My home, my family. What I thought of Mournhold. He laughed, when I told him I thought it was a great adventure, and when I told him it sounded charming despite the pained rasp, he laughed even more and said my brother thought so too.

I had a vague sense of distance, that travel took long, but all the maps I’d seen had covered the south, and I could not have told you if it would take a day to Mournhold, a week, or a decade. I almost wished it were the last, then, to excuse my brother not returning. Even more I wished it were the first, for the beast’s hair hurt my lungs and the thundering movements made me queasy. A horse, the man told me, going on full of love and passion for the beasts. Nord creatures. When I made to talk of skyrenders he said he heard it all. Of course he had, friend of my brother’s that he was.

He would pet my hair, and forget that I’d never roughhoused. Tell me stories and sing strange songs, and call me cub. Talk about how very glad my brother would be to have me safely by his side. It was strange, of course, to think that I would be safer with this stranger on his beast than in the citadel of Tear, but the man reminded me of the dangers of war, that the Nords might be driven there. When I shivered, later, in the cool, he wrapped me in a brown pelt and held me closer still, and I realised how fortunateI was to have been taken so carefully to safety, not dragged screaming from my bed by murderous masses.

Sometimes now, I wonder if my cousin had with a heavy heart hoped that some evil would befall us lone travelers on the journey. My brother must have been worried sick, for me and his friend. But we were alone, unbothered, making it to safety just before the jaws of war closed once more on Deshaan. A great adventure, indeed, to be handled like a package, if one held cautiously like the frailest glass. But we ate under the sky, and slept under the stars, and I wondered what sort of freedom I might gain, now that my brother had remembered my existence.

Not that I would gain any, of course, in that dizzying game of chairs that followed, where my brother stepped aside for my cousin and my uncle stepped up to claim me. Thorn has its charms, of course. If you are a hunter, an adventurer. I grew to enjoy sitting on the high roots in the garden.

Not that I should complain. My brother’s dear friend, who seemed so awestruck to me in the moonlight that night, gazing up at the citadel with something indescribable in those pale eyes, I’m sure he would have been happy to sit in just such a garden. The lush green, the life. See, it is hard to be a soldier, sera, a restless duty bound soul. I never saw him again, after our little adventure. He died no long after, I was told, but my brother was tight lipped. You might have never known he could be so sensitive.

It was another battle for Mournhold that took him. Or something the likes, those northern places are all the same, are they not. How honourable, that even a Nord would die defending that city. How incomprehensible, that Nord would turn against Nord all for the sake of us mer. It might have been kindness, to retire the human soldiers, before the would be killed by the swords of their brethren. Like that kind soul who took me on that journey. But war swallows good men and mer all the time, does it not. Now that is an adventure I would rather avoid.

#no context

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fatefulfaerie · 3 years

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Broken Heart (Last Christmas)

Day four of the 12 days of Christmas prompts orchestrated by @zelink-prompts

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild AU where they were victorious over the Calamity and everyone survived

“I understand that the young Prince Sidon has taken an interest in learning to fight.”

“Yes, Father,” Mipha said with a single nod, her intricate Zora crown jingling only slightly as she returned her yellow gaze to the Zora King. “Although I must admit it makes me worry. He is still so small.”

The Zora King gave a resounding chuckle that shook his large chest.

“You must remember, Mipha,” the King said. “You weren’t much older than him when you kept grabbing the spears of our soldiers. They humored you for you irresistibly adorable looks. I fathom all our people had little choice in the matter of loving their dear princess.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Mipha said with a slight blush at the flattery. “I suppose he is better off trained than injured, and since there seems to be no more monsters plaguing the domain, I--”

Mipha was interrupted by the growing flapping of wings, looking over to see a Rito, the messengers of Hyrule blessed with strong wings and known for their skills in archery. Zora’s Domain got dozens of letters daily from various parts of Hyrule inquiring about trade and various other correspondence, yet this Rito in particular had a royal blue sash tied diagonally around his torso, which meant he brought news directly from the Royal Family.

“Thank you,” Mipha said with a polite nod as she took the letter into her smooth, red hands, the Rito departing for what was surely a busy schedule. She faced her father as she elegantly opened the envelope, somehow leaving no tear as she prepared to read it aloud.

“It’s from King Bospharamous himself,” Mipha said, looking at the very top of the letter. “But it is not specifically addressed to you. He likely sent the letter to all the leaders of Hyrule.”

“What does it say?” King Dorephan asked, Mipha preparing to project her soft-spoken voice.

“Fellow Hyruleans, trusted comrades, and long-lasting friends,” Mipha started reading. “I hope this letter reaches you with good health in your bodies and and good spirits in your hearts. Before my seal brings you worry, I must tell you that I write to you of good news. Here in Hyrule Castle we very much have been reeling with happiness, as it seems we have been given a great glimpse into the future of our kingdom! Our very own princess, my very own lovely daughter, is now…”

Mipha had trouble voicing the next words, scanning ahead and almost not believing what she saw. Her heart sank and again broke into a million pieces. It was as devastating as exactly a year ago, when Link politely declined her proposal. It was like no time had passed at all and her voice weakened because of it.

“…engaged,” she continued, “to be married to none other than high-ranking General Link.” Mipha attempted to swallow her heartbreak but it was deeper and thus harder to get rid of. “He is to be Prince Consort within the week, their wedding scheduled for this coming Saturday, and when I step down as King in the next few years, the royal couple will rise to their titles of Queen Zelda and King Consort Link.”

Mipha cleared her throat and denied the watering of her eyes.

“You and your people are more than welcome, in fact, encouraged to come celebrate the festivities with us. There is indeed a place at my table for champion Mipha and you may bring as many of your denizens as you see fit to celebrate the occasion. Let us celebrate together an entire year free from the calamity with this exciting prospect of our kingdom’s future! Signed King Bospharamous of Hyrule.”

“What great news!” The Zora King exclaimed with a large smile as Mipha folded up the paper, meek and demure and forlorn and disappointed and so many other things that contradicted this news the was indeed great. “We must make preparations immediately!”

She kicked herself for thinking things may still work out in her favor and she kicked herself for not being more happy for her dear friends, who had suffered so much and deserved their happiness more than anyone else. Mipha hated herself for her sadness. How horribly selfish she was.

——————————————————————————————————

It was incredibly awkward for Mipha to be a guest at the wedding of the man she knew she would still swoon for if she allowed herself to. Somehow, a year had passed and she still hadn’t gotten over her feelings for the blue-eyed knight who still caught her eye. She thought herself a fool, and even more so considering that one kiss like the one in her fantasies and he would be able to fool her again.

However, during the actual ceremony, sat next to her good friend Urbosa, Mipha’s heart was much more occupied with happiness for Link and Zelda. The way they looked at each other was with a deep love that made Mipha smile.

Mipha couldn’t help the thought that Link never looked at her like that and yet, the thought afterwards seemed to liberate her from her seemingly eternal prison of non-mutual pining.

Mipha never quite had that connection with Link either.

Perhaps a childish infatuation that had grown fonder over that web of lies created by distance, Mipha felt for the first time that her crush on Link perhaps wasn’t what she thought. Gradually, as the night passed, Mipha felt herself less in love with the fantasy of Link and more determined to find love like the one he shared with Zelda.

Mipha revved up her courage and finally approached them, wishing them congratulations for their nuptials. To her surprise, they both insisted on hugging her. Mipha was thankful she had such friends.

Mipha had in fact garnered enough courage to be completely honest with them. At first she was hesitant, thinking Link would judge her crazy for the way her feelings had lingered, but Link smiled in the way only Link could smile and told Mipha that he, of course, understood, and that it was okay. Mipha told them of her wish to find love like theirs and Zelda blushed, Link scratching the back of his head. Zelda told Mipha that her and Link’s love was much more complicated in its growth than it perhaps should have been, so they maybe aren’t the best to ask for advice, but Zelda declared herself matchmaker nonetheless.

Selflessly, Zelda and Link spent a portion of their wedding night helping Mipha be brave talking to all sorts of eligible bachelors, all the while assuring Mipha not to lose hope if she doesn’t find her soulmate tonight.

However, Link and Zelda left Mipha to her own graces when the Zora princess seemed to forget about them completely, deep in conversation with a male Zora. Link and Zelda smirked and hastened to the dance floor, peppering each other with kisses and hugs and every little gesture and word that could show their love to the other.

Last year, Mipha gave Link her heart. But, the very next day, he gave it away. He was in love with Princess Zelda and although he said he appreciated Mipha’s honesty, he could not reciprocate her love for him truthfully. This year, to save her from tears, Mipha gave her heart to someone special, someone new and exciting, like a safe version of electricity.

And soon, Mipha was glad Link didn’t say yes last year.

#zelink #zelda #link #mipha #twelve days of christmas #broken heart #last christmas #botw #breath of the wild #tloz #the legend of zelda

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corinnesamuels · 3 years

Text

Guarding the Gates, Chapter 3: No More Questions, Please.

. . . the Ministry of Magic requests that anyone with information on the whereabouts of any of the aforementioned witches and wizards listed as missing contacts the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at their earliest convenience, as their families would like to see them home. Up next: The Ministry of Magic reports the recent hurricanes reported in the West Country are the work of giants in league with You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters—

“Merlin and fucking Morgana.” Lily curses, running a hand over her face roughly in frustration. The mental notes she had been taking were beginning to look like a NEWT-level essay, but she still hadn’t gotten word that it was time to start working. She watched the skies each morning for owls and even checked the muggle post. Dumbledore had always been peculiar, and if she didn’t know better, she might have thought he’d forgotten.

“I would advise you to rest up, Lily.” He had said in their last meeting. “Once we begin in earnest, breaks may be few and far between.

Lily sighs and lets her attention drift back to the wireless. They had shifted from missing persons and calamities to the upcoming Celestina Warbeck concert. It was almost odd to catch the juxtaposition, but people do need joy in times like these.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Lily looks up to see a barn owl tapping at her window. She opens the window and offers up pieces of bacon to the owl, which hoots happily as it sticks out a leg. Lily unties it and begins to do a quick scan, but the first line lets her know that it wasn’t from Dumbledore.

I’m back, bitches!

Lily laughs out loud, recognizing the telltale greeting style of one Dorcas Meadowes. Lily guesses that Dorcas just sent the same letter to her, Marlene, and Mary to save time. Dorcas talked a bit about her time with family over in the States.

Disco is dying, sadly, but there’s this new upbeat thing happening that I expect to really take off. They’re calling it “rap.” Race relations are still shit, but there’s a little progress, at least. I was hoping I’d be able to at least say the same about pureblood mania in England by the time I got back, but by the looks of things, the opposite has happened.

“You’re right about that.” Lily says to herself dejectedly. At the end of Dorcas’ letter, she recommends they get together soon, and Lily couldn’t agree more. She writes a quick note saying that she can’t wait to catch up and offers up her flat as the gathering place. Lily taps the letter with her wand three times to duplicate it and sends the letters back off with Dorcas’ owl. As it flies away, she thinks of how excited she is to see them, but how difficult it might be for Mary. Lily hopes that gathering in a private place will help make Mary comfortable enough to join them but understands if it doesn’t. Mary had been more timid than the other girls in their year, and a timid muggle born was unfortunately too easy of a target for the Death-Eaters-in-Training over in Slytherin House. Since they’d finished school, Mary had taken a job in muggle London. Not sure that she wanted to risk being the focus of more attacks, she limited her interactions with the wizarding world as much as possible.

Lily doesn’t judge Mary or blame her. But Lily didn’t have anything tethering her to the muggle world anymore. Petunia wanted nothing to do with her. Her parents and the rest of their family were all gone. And when she thinks of her life ten and twenty years from now, it’s always filled with the same wonder she felt when she first discovered the expansiveness and sheer possibility of magic. She thinks of children from non-magical families that need a safe space to learn and grow. She thinks of how the magic running through her veins is as much a part of her as the eyes she inherited from her father or the hair she inherited from her mother. And if that meant fighting for a place here, for herself and for others, then so be it.

The next day a letter comes from Marlene saying she had a few days off from St. Mungo’s and would be in attendance. Among other things.

I’ll bring takeaway too. I don’t have faith that Lily’s cooking has gotten any better in the last four years.

“Tramp.” Lily mutters.

A letter never comes from Mary to let them know if she would attend or not, but she was the first one to stumble out of Lily’s fireplace a few days later.

“I made a last-second decision because I’ve missed you terribly.” Mary says nervously. She tucks a blonde lock of hair behind her ear and looks at the floor before looking up at Lily. “I brought the good stuff, too.” She says, gesturing to a box containing several rather large bottles of mead sitting on her hip.

Lily, who had been searching for a record to put on the player when Mary stumbled in, scrambles to her feet to take the box from Mary. She places it on the ground and immediately envelops Mary in the kind of embrace that makes it difficult to breathe. Mary quickly returns it, holding on to Lily for dear life. Lily feels her shoulders quake slightly and knows that Mary’s eyes are becoming as damp as her own. Yes, Lily had missed her friend dearly. She’d missed all of them. But knowing that Mary fought through her demons to see her? Lily isn’t taking that for granted.

“I’ve missed you.” She says when they take a step back. Lily uses her thumbs to wipe tears from Mary’s face before using the back of her hand to handle her own.

“I’ve missed you more.” Mary says through a watery laugh that Lily returns.

“Now this ‘good stuff’ you say you brought,” Lily says once they’ve gotten themselves composed again. She reaches into the box and pulls out one of the bottles. “Rosemerta’s Oak-Matured Mead, eh? Mary, you spoil us!”

“Yes, well. I wanted it to feel like we were sneaking it into Gryffindor Tower again.” Mary smiles.

“James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were terrible influences on us.” Says Lily with a smile at the memories of her sneaking through Hogwarts tunnels with James to get supplies from The Three Broomsticks for various occasions. “Why didn’t we start hanging out with them sooner?”

“Because you said James was a git.”

“Well, in my defense, he was at the time.”

Lily and Mary look at each other and break into laughter as Lily’s fireplace turns green again. Dorcas and Marlene step out in quick succession and begin screaming and scooping Lily and Mary into a loud, weepy group hug.

“Oh my God, Mary!”

“You came! I’m so happy to see you!”

“Lily, you’re really back for good?”

Once they settled and begun wiping away tears, Lily summons four glasses and plates. “Mary splurged on us birds and got us the good stuff.

“Is that so? Do I need to put out?” Dorcas asks. “Because if this stuff is as good as I remember when we were sneaking it into the tower, then I might not mind too much.” She says happily as she helps herself to the mead.

“Not necessary, Dorcas, thank you, though.” Mary laughs before looking around at the girls anxiously. “My boyfriend might not like that.”

“Well, you kept that quiet!” Lily says.

“I’ve only been here a few minutes!” Mary replies. “He’s actually the one that got the mead. I . . . I’m still not quite comfortable in public wizarding spaces. It feels too exposed. Especially with things getting worse. But Reg knows I’ve missed you guys and told me that he’d do whatever he could to help me feel comfortable enough to come.”

Marlene, who had been laying out the food she’d brought, looks up and places a hand to her heart. “Mary, that’s beautiful.” She gushes.

“Right. Tell me, Mare,” Dorcas says, scooting closer to Mary and bumping her shoulder lightly. “does he have any brothers?”

They all laugh, and Mary shakes her head. “No, Reg only has sisters.”

“Better luck next time, I guess.” Dorcas sighs.

“Well, I’m flexible, so let me know if any are single.” Marlene wiggles her eyebrows, and they all laugh again.

“Reg . . . this wouldn’t happen to be Reginald Cattermole, would it?” Lily asks as she swirls her mead around in her glass.

“That’s the one.” Mary has a soft smile and a dreamy look in her eyes. “He’s been so good to me. Incredibly patient and kind.” She looks down at her feet, a smile still resting across her face. “He encourages me not to give up on the wizarding world and goes above and beyond to make me feel safe. I couldn’t dream of a better situation.”

Lily’s heart feels lighter than it has in months as she listens to Mary explain how she and Reginald had randomly run into each other on one of Mary’s rare wizarding excursions. It’s beautiful to know that people are still finding and experiencing love, even when it seems like the world is burning. She wishes that she felt like this was feasible for her.

Honestly, had she not been distracted, she might have seen what was coming next.

“So, Lily.” Marlene begins with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “You and Potter finally making the beast with two backs, or are you still both pretending that you don’t want to?”

“Marlene.” Mary scolds as Dorcas laughs.

“I was wondering who was going to ask.” Dorcas grins, leaning in closer to get the details. Lily rolls her eyes.

“James and I are, again, just friends.” Says Lily as she throws a few chips at Marlene. “And besides, he has a girlfriend.”

“Ah.” The other three girls say in unison before dissolving into giggles. Lily is frustrated to find that she can’t prevent herself from joining them.

“Why don’t I have better friends?”

Dorcas gestures around the room. “Because we’re the best there is, love.”

“Ta.” Marlene says, raising a glass in salute before taking a large swallow and pouring herself another.

“Now look, on a serious note. We don’t have to do this.” Dorcas says more kindly. “But Lily, why on earth didn’t you two get together in the first place? We all thought it was just a matter of time. The boys too.”

Marlene and Mary’s eyes wander from Dorcas to Lily, waiting to see what kind of answer they’ll get. Whether it’s because Lily is happy to see them, dying to talk to someone, or pleasantly tipsy, she doesn’t know, but she surprises herself and decides to tell them the truth.

Read the rest at ao3

#Lily and James #Jily fic #Jily #Jily Fanfiction #harry potter #fanfiction #Lily just has a lot of feelings #Lily finally snaps on Miranda #first wizarding war

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lorelylantana · 3 years

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A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 1: Blindsided

Chapter rating: G Overall rating: G

Ao3

Calamity was soundly defeated, and the Kingdom of Hyrule was at peace, but King Rhoam knew something dark was afoot. He sat at his desk, eyeing the tray of incoming documents. Of all the missives and appeals, he had the sinking feeling that today would be yet another day passed without a request for his daughter’s hand in marriage. King Rhoam had many regrets for his actions toward his daughter, and he didn’t want to rush Zelda into marriage. He couldn’t undo the years of neglect, but he could do that much.

His resolve in the matter didn’t make the lack of suitors any less disconcerting. He was baffled. Even if his daughter was homely, which she most certainly was not, the King would have received several letters from young nobles and their parents eyeing the throne before Zelda even came of age. Before Calamity’s defeat, he figured it was another facet of the extenuating circumstances that darkened those years, and had expected a cascade of offers after things settled down. After losing sleep over it, he could only think of one explanation.

A coup was brewing. One intent on wresting Hylia’s bloodline from the throne.

The moment the thought ran through his mind Rhoam summoned the Sheikah forces, the researchers took center stage in the last decade, but the stealth units still existed. This meant that the crown still had a robust intelligence agency, which he wasted no time sending them out to sniff out the traitors and drag them out to face justice.

The Sheikah were efficient, and more importantly they were accurate, so when they returned empty handed, the King knew it was because there was nothing to find.

Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you certain?”

The agent nodded, “There’s nothing but glowing praise for the royal family in the wake of Calamity’s downfall, the recent events have highlighted the need to preserve the bloodline.”

Then what was it? Why didn’t anyone want to marry his daughter?

Confused and more than a little offended, he summoned the son of a noble house that was known to be particularly opportunistic.

“You wanted to see me, your Majesty?”

The young man squirmed under the King’s stare. Rhoam shuffled some papers around to look busy before beginning his ruse.

“You know my daughter, Princess Zelda?”

The man gulped, “Yes, sire.”

“And you know she is of marrying age.”

“Yes,”

“I’m considering Zelda’s groom to be, future of Hyrule and all that, and since you are fairly high on the list of prospects I want your thoughts on the matter,” King Rhoam said, staring at the young man as he shifted on his feet and looked down. As the silence dragged on he prompted him. “Do you want to marry my daughter?”

The young man took a breath to brace himself before looking the King in the eye, “No, Your Majesty.”

“Why not, then?!” Rhoam’s voice came out louder than he’d intended, offended on his daughter’s behalf. The young noble flinched at his tone. A minute ran long, silent as the man gathered himself and gave his answer.

“It wouldn’t feel right, sir,” the nobleman shrunk under Rhoam’s gaze, and he began to lose his thoughts, “It’s just, Sir Link saved my little brother’s life. I can’t betray him like that after he’s done so much for my family-”

“Wait,” the King held up a hand, baffled, “What does the Hylian Champion have to do with this?”

The young noble stopped, his face reflecting the king’s own confusion.

“He loves her, as I’m sure you noticed.”

He had not noticed. Yet this young man’s voice rang with the certainty of one talking about the blue sky or the chill of winter, and yet it gave the King a pause. He leaned back.

“Come again?”

“Sir Link is in love with Princess Zelda,” the young man said.

“And he told you this?”

He shook his head, “He didn’t need to, it’s as plain as day. Everyone knows, just ask around.”

With that the nobleman was sent away, and King Rhoam sent the Sheikah out to gather information once more. This time, his suspicions were confirmed.

Every single noble house in Hyrule received critical aid from the Hylian Champion, and subsequently held him in high regard. That verified one half of the young man’s theory, but what of the other?

As a knight bound by oath, Link adhered to a strict code of conduct that governed his every waking hour. He wasn’t to deceive frivolously, he was to extend a helping hand whenever possible, and he would never, under any circumstances, presume to declare his undying love to Princess Zelda. It was unprofessional, if not unethical. He was tasked with her safety, and that included sheltering her from the burden of his emotions. And so, Zelda was kept in blissful ignorance to the heart she held in her hands.

The chivalric code was strict, but it wasn’t unforgiving. There were allowances. Small things Link could do to express little shreds of his love, if only to keep from exploding. To keep from shouting out his devotion for Zelda, her fierce determination and her unbreakable spirit. He kept his silence for so long, he thought restraining himself would be natural, but then she would laugh, or look his way, or hum if he was lucky, and he was a beat away from saying ‘I love you’. It was too much to hold in. Too much to hide, so he began giving Zelda small tokens of his affections. Subtle gestures, unnoticeable, and easily misconstrued as a part of his duty to the Princess’ safety.

Link brought her flowers, but only those with medicinal purposes. To aid in her research, he insisted to those who questioned, to ensure she had medicine of any kind should she need it. He would take every opportunity to take her hand, only to ensure she wouldn’t fall.

The gesture that brought him the most relief, however, was simply bringing her hand to his lips and leaving a small kiss against her knuckles. It was perfectly acceptable because it was selfless. A kiss upon the hand was a show of respect, of reverence, and expected absolutely nothing in return. It was his greeting and his farewell When he first became Zelda’s appointed knight, she would rip her hand away as soon as was polite. Yet as the esteem she held him in rose she was much more indulgent of his wishes, reaching for his hand at times. He’d grown so bold recently, bowing over her arm no longer. Instead, he was reckless enough to raise her hand to his lips so he could look her in the eye.

It was no cause for scrutiny, of course. All very honorable and above board, so when Link was called to the King’s office one fateful day, he was fully under the impression that his affections were a secret to all but the knight himself.

Sir Link stood still and stoic before his King, looking for all the world like the hero he was. He’d been called into the King’s office a few times, all to report on his daughter’s wellbeing, so when the King asked his question Link was taken aback.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Sir Link. Do you love my daughter?”

Link didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The nobleman was right, it was plain as day. Written in the blush on his cheeks and the way his breath caught, highlighted by the slight panic in his eye.

Hylia save him, the boy wasn’t subtle at all. Quite surprising in the face of Sir Link’s reputation, but young love is a strange force indeed.

Although, now that Rhoam considered things, perhaps Sir Link’s blatant heart could help solve this issue quicker. The King wasn’t going to pass up a stress free wedding, without all the yapping of disgruntled nobles trying to match their own sons with his daughter. Yes, the king was certain that this was a very good sign indeed. His dear Zelda was the brightest of her generation, renowned for her keen eye and discerning mind. There was absolutely no way his daughter could look upon this young man and not be immediately aware of his feelings for her. This, along with how well she got along with Sir Link, could only mean that she accepted his feelings. Surely, if Link loving her was a cause for discomfort, Zelda would have sent him away. She had ample opportunity, and after her triumph Rhoam would deny her nothing.

“I- I assure you, Your Majesty, I’ve made no untoward advances. I swear on the sword I carry.”

The young man’s shaking voice snapped Rhoam out of his train of thought.

“What?” he asked before waving a dismissive and, “Of course, of course. Sit, Zelda will be here soon enough.”

Sir Link’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak before shutting it tightly. Sitting rigidly in his chair, the young man waited with bated breath while the King sent for his daughter.

She arrived only a few minutes later, never far from the library and the surrounding offices.

“You called for me, father?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. She had just finished going over her itinerary, so she didn’t know what this meeting was about. The king gestured for the second chair across his desk. And waited for her to sit down before answering.

“We are here to discuss Sir Link’s love for you,”

In his seat, Link made a choking sound, almost hyperventilating. Rhoam pitied him, but he knew that the sooner Link learned of his place in Zelda’s heart he would feel much better. Zelda on the other hand, seemed to be caught completely off guard. Her cheeks red and hands brought to her mouth as she whispered. She looked at her knight, who sat still and resolute, yet blushing all the more.

“His what?”

Well, it was understandable that she would be a tad confused, after all, it wasn’t every day that one spoke of love so bluntly.

Link was mortified, but said nothing in his defense. This was clearly his penance for having impure thoughts of his charge. He had deluded himself into thinking the dreams that haunted him were out of his control, and thus undeserving of reproach. The present situation swiftly disabused him of any such notion in short order.

Still, King Rhoam had to keep the ball rolling. There was no use wasting time.

“In light of this recent discovery, and since you are of age to be married, I thought it wise to consult you on the matter, dear Zelda.”

At the mention of her name, she turned back to her father, still a bit disoriented in the face of her revelation, “Yes?”

Rhoam spoke plainly, as he always did, “Would you like to marry Sir Link?”

Zelda was frozen. She was completely unaware how Link felt about her, but now that she was told, everything fell into place. How she found her hand in his several times a day. The softness in his eyes. She’d thought them expressions of duty, but when she looked at the flush in his cheeks as he stared at the floor she knew her father’s words were true.

Before Zelda knew it, “Yes, I would,” fell from her lips, breathless and sincere.

Link’s head snapped up, looking up at her with a furrowed brow, disbelieving.

“Yes,” she said again, and her heart leapt at the way her knight’s skepticism melted into pure joy, smiling brighter than she’d ever seen him. She found herself giggling at the expression.

“Well then, it’s settled,” the King declared with a grin, “The two of you shall be wed in a year’s time. Now go, I won’t keep you two any longer.”

The young couple raced out of the room, and Rhoam heard the two explode into conversation, no doubt eager to celebrate their upcoming union.

#zelink #loz botw #botw zelink #link #zelda #botw link #botw zelda #loz aoc #engagement #rhoam bosphoramus hyrule #legend of zelda breath of the wild #legend of zelda #aoc link #aoc zelda #fic #aoc zelink #humor #botw

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josefavomjaaga · 3 years

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Letters from Naples. 1813

All these letters are still from the first half of the year, before Murat (for the last time) joined forces with Napoleon in August 1813. Most of them are only postscripts to “official letters” (which were likely to be opened and read by secret police), some even using an extra secret cipher not used on other occasions, if only to give you this special “007″-feeling.

Translated again from “Helfert, Joachim Murat”.

Mier to Metternich [French, in ciphers].

Naples 16 March 1813.

My Lord Count!

The sort of mystery put from the beginning into the sending of Prince Cariati to Vienna, and the rumours which circulate in the public on the object of his mission, can only cause offence to the French government and will necessarily increase the bad blood of the Emperor Napoleon towards the King, which is already sufficiently pronounced without it. Since his arrival in Naples the king has not received a word from the Emperor; the queen has had two letters, but she thought she had to conceal them from her husband because of their content. The Duke of Berthier told the king at the moment of his leaving the army to return to Naples, that he believed him to be too good a Frenchman not to be sure that he would willingly sacrifice his crown if the interests of France required it. This statement, which the King supposes to have been ordered by the Emperor to prepare him for what he must expect, has increased his distrust and anxiety for the preservation of his kingdom. Knowing the King's character, I fear that this will lead him to some step contrary to his position and his true interests, and will give France a pretext of necessity for the realisation of a project which perhaps for the moment should not yet be put into execution. The departure of the Queen would be in this respect a real calamity for this country, because she prevents by her wise and reasoned advice, and her pleas, many steps dictated by the first movement of the King's hot temper, and which would end up by completely dividing him from the Emperor. At first, on his return, he intended to summon the Estates or Deputies of the kingdom and have himself crowned of the Two Sicilies; it was only by dint of persuasion and entreaties that the Queen succeeded in turning him away from this project.

Accept etc

Mier

Prince Cariati was Murat’s special envoy sent to Vienna to start negotiations with Austria, apparently behind Caroline’s back.

Metternich to Mier [French, concept; original in ciphers].

Vienna, 20 April 1813. By Neopolitan courier.

Prince Cariati has acquitted himself to me of the commission he is charged with. He told me that the King desired only the preservation of the throne of Naples; that he would renounce his claims to Sicily and was not aiming at any acquisitions; convinced, however, that his existence would sooner or later be threatened by the great preponderance of France, and knowing the liberal views of our august master, H. M. wished to have a guarantee which would ensure his future existence; that this guarantee could only be given to him by Austria, and that the king was ready, on the other hand, to support our approach, if necessary, by all his military forces.

I answered Prince Cariati that the policy of the Emperor did not require to be commented on, that it was sufficiently known in Europe to be generally appreciated at its just value. That we desired only a state of peace deserving of the name; that far from any excess in our designs, and not subjecting the good to the prospects of an often illusory better, we had succeeded in winning the confidence of all the great powers to the point of seeing them, France not excepted, solicit us to change the subordinate attitude of a merely intervening power into that of mediator. That consequently His Imperial Majesty was assembling great military forces to support his words of peace and to bring them to a successful conclusion; but that the mediating Power had no longer any choice; that he could only hope to succeed in so far as he was actually prepared to support his words by war.

As Prince Cariati kept repeating to me that this was undoubtedly the King's way of judging these questions, and that His Majesty had only the most pronounced desire to prove to us that he would be able to uphold, against all odds, the commitments which he had made, I asked him if he had sufficiently precise instructions to enter into a real negotiation with us and full powers to complete it. He replied that he did not; that he felt that full powers were necessary for our own safety, but that as for the instructions I could be assured that the King's views were invariable, and that those which His Majesty had expressed to him at the time of his departure from Naples were confined to the widest possible latitude.

The present courier (an officer of the guards who accompanied Prince Cariati here) is sent by him in secret to Naples. He asks for full powers. You will not have, Count, to meddle in the substance of an affair which is very delicate in itself, and you will keep strictly to the terms of my answer to Prince Cariati above, without taking a step to engage the King to send the document requested by his envoy. You will add, however, that the Emperor nourishes particular feelings of esteem for the King; that His Majesty's policy is entirely conservative, and that he only wishes to see the King rule the people who have devoted all their attachment to him, and that His Majesty is very sensitive to the marks of confidence which this Prince gives him. You can be sure that no evidence of this feeling has ever caused regret to any power.

As Prince Cariati is making his report to the Duke of Gallo, you can speak to him about the present communication, and you will testify to him with the confidence which we personally have in him the conviction that, if we are ready to listen to the King, it is up to him to provide his Envoy with all diplomatic guarantees.

You will also satisfy yourselves that by virtue of the present instructions you have little to add to what I have lately prescribed to you.

If I’m not mistaken the “Duc de Gallo” was minister of foreign affairs in Naples. His ... ability to adapt to several consecutive goverments at odds with each other would later result in a rather awkward situation for him: He refused to go to Vienna for the Congress of 1814 because there he would have met his ex-queen, Maria Carolina of Habsburg.

Mier to Metternich [French, in special ciphers, "très sécrèt"].

Naples this 27 April 1813.

On the return of the King I will carry out your orders, I distrust the minister too much to speak to him about it. He is persuaded of the forthcoming reunion of this country with the great Empire, and always thinking more of his own interests than those of his country and his sovereign, he does everything possible to win the goodwill of the new French government in advance and thereby secure lucrative positions for himself under the new reign. He is known as such from the past and his present conduct has not earned him an appreciation. X. also advised me not to confide in him too much.

I have the honour to be ut in litteris

Mier.

Yes. “X.” would mean “Joachim”. We have literally reached the level of a Bond movie now.

Mier to Metternich [French, in particular ciphers, "très sécrèt"].

this 30 April 1813.

We have consulted with X. about what to say to his wife. I will always keep strictly to your orders, but do not let me miss your instructions. X. requests your friendly advice on what he should say, do, ask, stipulate, promising to follow your advice in everything. All that is required is the preservation of the present fortune and independence.

I have the honour etc.

The book’s author adds a footnote here with an interesting remark:

In Nicomede Bianchi "Storia docum. della Diplomazia europea in Italia I" p. 2 we find the assertion that Metternich had already made contact with Caroline Murat in Paris, and that he had succeeded in turning her away from her imperial brother; Caroline had thus become "nelle mani del principe di Metternich il migliore instrumento per sospingere il re di Napoli a passare nel campo de' nemici della sua patria e del suo benefattore".... Since the "X" of the despatches I reproduced can only refer to King Joachim, and "sa femme" is therefore Caroline Murat, who at that time cannot yet have been fully aware of the contacts with the Viennese Cabinet, this results in the opposite of Bianchi's assertion, which, incidentally, would also be in irresolvable contradiction with other facts and circumstances.

My personal footnote to the above letter: May I find it a little piquant to see Murat ask Metternich for advice on how to break the news to Caroline? “Dear Metternich, as you have slept with my wife, how do you think I should got about this?”

Mier to Metternich [French, in ciphers, postscript 1].

Naples 29 June 1813

My Lord Count!

The article of the Moniteur relating to the isle of Ponza has enraged the King, to the point of making him ill. He has sent Mr. Durand, Minister of France, a very strong note on this subject which states, among other things, that this is the second time that the French gazettes have taken it upon themselves to insult him, and that at the third such article he would respond by dismissing the Minister of France from his State.

The Emperor Napoleon intends to ask the King of Naples again for 20,000 men.

His Majesty gave a negative answer, declaring that not a company of his army would leave the kingdom unless commanded by him in person.

All these measures of the Emperor persuade the King more and more that Emperor Napoleon nurses hostile designs against him and that he would have already put them into execution if he were not too busy on another side. Not omitting any occasion to humiliate him, doing everything to finally weary his patience he has the air of provoking him and finding a pretext of his annihilation in the resistance to his will.

The King sets himself up for any event, and I am convinced that only one Senatus Consult is needed to deprive him of his kingdom.

I have the honour to be ut in litteris

Once more we have Murat getting ill when under stress or in great emotional turmoil. And this time, Mier even has an extra secret postscript to the secret postscript:

Mier to Metternich [French, in special ciphers, 'très sécrèt', postcript 2]

this 29th June 1813.

Napoleon has had the Queen informed that war with Austria was inevitable; that he needed troops; that consequently she should engage the King to place 20,000 men at the disposal of the Viceroy of Italy. Their Majesties await with impatience the answer to Cariati's proposals in order to know the course to be followed in the event of war between Austria and France. The King is still determined to support our interests

Please give me your instructions on the conduct I should follow in the event of war with France

I have the honour etc.

If this is true, if it really was already known in Naples by the end of June that Napoleon wanted war with Austria (which means that Napoleon must have been decided already at the beginning of the armistice and a long time before his meeting with Metternich in Dresden), this is diametrically opposed to the claim of Napoleon-friendly historians, who tend to accuse the allies of not having been sincere in their peace proposals in mid-1813. And it makes me feel like crying, considering how many people at this point put all their hopes in Napoleon making peace. Which he apparently never even seriously considered.

#joachim murat #helfert murat #1813 #napoleon #italy1813 #naples #letters #metternich #caroline murat

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so-i-dont-forget-again · 3 years

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So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 205: Zora’s Domain

The party was so fun. After vows were exchanged we had a feast, and there was lots of music and we danced through the night. The town was lit up with candles and colorful lanterns. I got to help with the cooking, actually I was cooking most of the time and Sidon helped me. I got to teach him a lot! Sidon actually took over towards the end of the night so I could join the others and chat for a bit. I’m not used to dancing, but it seems you kinda just move however you want, so I think I was okay. There was also a lot of drinking so almost everyone was acting a little off. They kept inviting me to join them, but I have to keep my mind sharp at all times, you never know what could happen whenever. Bolson told me the construction on my house was going well so far, it should also go even faster after the party since he and his team can now get supplies from here. Though he also said that he probably didn’t have to tell me since I’d be coming back soon anyway. It was then he got the idea I go with and the others back to Hateno, everyone back home would certainly be surprised and happy. Unless he felt he needed my protection to get back I declined.

I’d love to go back, but… even if Sidon believes in my strength, I need to believe it. Doubting myself will just get me killed. Before home, I’m going to learn from Shikah and Zora.

Hudson and Sidon overheard and joined in. Sidon wondered aloud if perhaps I could have a have a second home for storage or something here, it’s close to the domain so Sidon could visit me more often than he can when I’m at Hateno, it could also just be a place for me to take a quick rest when traveling. Bolson practically sold Sidon a house on the spot. While they were talking Calisa approached me. She said that she herself had officiated many weddings for fellow travelers so if we happened to bump into one another, she could do it for Sidon and I. She then said even if we don’t wed to keep him close, we seem really good for one another.

So I guess this is a shared house since Sidon got it for me, but he’d probably get use out of it more often than I. Though I guess I will be storing some miscellaneous things here like the iron boots, weapons I have not been using, things like that so Bossa Nova doesn’t have as much to carry. Since we got to town he kept wandering off to the lake below to go swimming. He usually returns by nightfall but I think the party may have been a bit loud for him so he dug a hole and laid in it, resting his head in the deepest part.

By the time the first signs of dawn were showing most were asleep or were off doing their own thing. Sidon and I were sitting by the edge of town just talking. At some point I asked Sidon what zora weddings are like. There are more so two separate sections, the celebrating with others part and the lovers making their vows part. Celebrating with others is similar with food and music, but the dancing is a little different, and the music itself is admittedly slower and not a peppy as what we had here. As for the vows part… well he started speaking but then quickly grew quiet. When he spoke again he was rather sheepish, I only hard part of it due to him mumbling. It went along the lines of the new pair make vows to one another or of the future as they fall from a great height or waterfall into water together, then something about riding through treacherous rivers or facing some great challenge to represent how they’ll stay together no matter how harsh life may become, to prove they can and will rely on one another, and support the other. Then… Sidon wondered aloud if facing something like a Divine Beast would count as that “challenge”.

I… was not sure what he was talking about.

Kapson said facing the Divine Beast, let alone managing to fell it would most certainly count. We didn’t even realize he was near by and his abrupt answer startled us senseless. Sidon than asked him to not tell his father or anyone that he got secretly married.

I mean… I wasn’t planning on doing anything like this till the Calamity was defeated.

I was just, my mind went blank and it took me a few moments to realize what had happened. I am so slow. Only just then did it click and I kind of shouted “WE’RE MARRIED!?” They both just stared at me for a moment before Kapson said he wouldn’t tell, but everyone would probably find out from me. Calisa was also around because I heard her chuckling and she said that we didn’t need her services after all.

Sidon excused himself as he picked me up and took me to our house. He first asked me if we could agree to only be “kind of married- engaged, how about we are engaged” since if we were to get married for real we’d have to have his people there to celebrate and he knew I’d want Kass, the people of Hateno and others there, a wedding between us had to be perfect for both of us. He also wanted it to be at a time when we both felt ready for this, not before facing the Calamity of all things. And most importantly before we can get married, if we ever wanted too, he placed a big emphasis on the “if” he just really wants to make sure I don’t feel pressured by this, that he properly court me so that I’ll be just as much in love with him as he is with me. I’m pretty sure I like him more than he likes me, but he said that could not possibly be true and we kinda got into a competition over who loved the other more? Now we’re going to court each other to see who the winner is? So… we’re going to go on lots of outings together I guess. In the end we wound up cuddling for a while. He just kept hugging me and running his fingers through my hair and talking about how kind, and strong, how great I am and how he was so glad he got the chance to meet me let alone gain my affections and how much good I’ve done and how I don’t treat Sidon as a prince or Mipha’s brother, with me he’s just a person who I happen to think is amazing, he’s not different from others, he’s just completely and unabashedly accepted, and how I wasn’t like that with just him but others like how I write of Riju and Zelda now. And he just really likes me, that I’m capable of that.

Sidon was late getting back to the Domain so some guards came to collect him. He didn’t want to go back yet but did. He refused to leave before giving he a long tight hug and told me he’d be waiting eagerly for my return.

I can’t lose to him, he had been so affectionate the whole time, I never got the chance to prove I love him more! It’s always like this, he always does so much for me, he helps me get up when I’m hurting, he looks after me when I’m ill, he even made me armor and just spends his time with me. The very least I can do is force this world to be one where he can be free and travel without worry and make sure he knows I appreciate everything he does for me and that I love him so, so much! But I don’t know how to do that. What could I possibly ever do to show him all that?

The best I could do in the moment was give him a kiss and tell him he didn’t have to wait at all, that I’d accompany him back, I was planning on going there after visiting the spring of power anyway. I swear his eyes sparkled, he had such a bright smile, lifting me off the ground in a tight hug and spinning around, he was so giggly. He nuzzled into me saying he was so excited.

The trip was uneventful except for Bossa Nova wading down a different river and us having to drag him back.

And now, here we are. Sidon had a room set up for me by his. He’s busy since he didn’t get to work when he should have before.

First thing he had done though was send me to the doctors to check on my arm.

The new medicine I have has this, weird, awful taste. I hate it. And there are also going to be other tests and check-ups tomorrow. I hope the medicine is changed to something better. I also sent Amali a letter so she knows my arm is being looked after again!

I guess I’ll sleep for now, then after the tests go see the guards, ask if I can join in on their training if Sidon is too busy.

He did say he’d get back to me as soon as he could and that he would sweep me off my feet. I wonder what he has planned.

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nothing-but-dreams · 3 years

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Raised From Darkness, We Deserve the Light

SPNDBCC (By @foundfamily4eva): Part 6- Destiel / Part 8- Love Confession Dean/Cas, 2.9k, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Angst to Fluff Summary: On the heels of losing Cas, and not being able to speak his truth, Dean goes on a mission to rescue Cas from the Empty. Things quickly go awry, and Dean has to fight to save the man he loves. AO3: Link

It was pitch black, the roar of thunder filled the nothingness like a cosmic being screaming a warning, and Dean felt like he was falling through time itself. He should’ve expected such, seeing as the Empty was, in fact, a cosmic being, and it was pissed that it couldn’t be left alone.

Dean took a shot at a spell he found in one of the old Men of Letters books. They said they used the spell to resurrect a demon who they needed information from. It wasn’t super specific, but Dean figured if it could get a demon out of the Empty, it could also work for an angel.

As he lit the ring of holy oil, a rift appeared, similar to the one that let them travel to purgatory and apocalypse world, but this one was black. Before he could figure out the next step, he was sucked into the void, and found himself falling endlessly through the Empty.

He hit something with a thud. He’d call it the ground, but it wasn’t. Everything around him was darkness. It fell silent. There was no more wind, no thunder, no distant calamity. Dean wished he had a map. Or a flashlight. Or a more thought out plan, because he really only thought this through up to the point where he got here. All he cared about was finding Cas, and bringing him home. He figured he’d make the rest up along the way.

Dean stood up, unable to see or hear anything other than his own breathing.

“Cas!” he shouted, hoping maybe, somehow Cas would be able to hear him. There was nothing. So he shouted his name again, and again, and again, calling out into the void, hoping something would shout back. He was about to give up when he heard a whoosh.

“Dean?”

Dean turned around, and sure enough, in front of him stood Castiel. It was overwhelming, the sudden rush of emotions that shot through his body. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but he didn’t know how. He was just as shocked standing before Cas now as he was when the Empty took him.

“Cas? Is it … is it really you?” Dean was skeptical, it seemed too easy to call out his name and that was enough to summon him.

“Yes. Are you really you?”

Dean tilted his head, waiting for an explanation.

“The Empty has been playing tricks on me ever since I got here. It’ll manifest as you and then make me think you were here to save me. Much like you are now.”

“No, it’s really good ol’, 50% scar tissue and cholesterol, me.”

“That’s good to hear. Well, not objectively, because the number one killer of humans is heart disease, and if you’re 50% cholesterol, that’s not-”

“Look,” Dean interrupted, realizing there was a very real possibility of Cas going off on a 30 minute tangent, “I don’t know how much time we have, so let’s try to figure out a plan to bust you out of here.”

“I don’t really know how to get out of here. Do you?” Cas asked, eyebrows raised.

Dean was flying by the seat of his pants. He realized, yeah, he really should’ve done a little more research on how to escape the Empty, but when an angel confesses their love to you, it can make you do crazy things.

“Not exactly. I kinda figured we’d go out the way I came in. Whatever, we’ll figure it out, but right now, we have to go.”

Dean went to grab Cas’s wrist, and in an instant, Cas’s body melted into a pile of black goo, and reemerged in the image of Meg, sitting on her throne.

“Dean, long time no see.”

“Meg?”

“No, this is just the face I’ve taken a liking to. But I figured you’d connect better with a certain lovesick angel. Gotta say, I’m pretty pissed you had to go and ruin my fun, because I could’ve toyed with you all day.”

“Where’s Cas?”

“All business, no play. Got it.” The Empty snapped its fingers and Cas appeared next to the throne. He was unharmed, but his eyes went wide and his jaw fell slack as soon as he saw Dean.

“Cas!” Dean tried to run to the angel, but he was frozen in place. It didn’t seem like Cas could move either.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast there lover boy. I know you want E.T. here to return home, but since I have him, I want to make a deal.”

Dean’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. Evil sons of bitches always wanted to make deals, and every time Dean said yes, he’d end up screwed over in the long run. But what the hell? This was for Cas.

“What do you want?”

“I’ll give you your precious angel, if you hold up the bargain that Death promised me.”

“And what was that?”

“It’s loud.” The Empty waved its hand and a cacophony of tortured screams echoed through the void. “They were all sleeping. And when they sleep, I sleep. But you, and the angel, and God kept coming in, and dragging people out. Now all they do is scream and I’m sick of it.”

“Sorry about your beauty sleep, but I don’t really see how that’s my problem.”

“Oh, you don’t?” With another snap of the Empty’s fingers, Cas fell to his knees, hunched over in pain, and started vomiting up blood. “Because I can do this for the rest of eternity, Dean.”

Unable to watch Cas suffer any longer, Dean gave in.

“Fine, I’m in. What do you need me to do?”

The Empty snapped its fingers, and Cas went back to normal.

It explained to Dean that in order for there to be peace in the Empty, there needed to be no more unwelcome guests, and no more resurrections. The Empty would be the only one with the power to let things in or let things out. In order to do that, he would need to close the rift to the Empty, forever.

It was a simple spell, in that it was only a few ingredients, but Dean didn’t want to put his trust in another bad guy. Cosmic entities were high up on his don’t-mess-with list.

In order to close the rift, Dean would have to take the Empty’s plasma, mix it with holy oil and demon blood, use the mixture to draw a devil’s trap around the rift while it was still open, then set the sigil on fire. It seemed doable, but there was a catch. There was always a catch. The Empty wouldn’t return Cas back to Earth until the spell was complete.

If he agreed, there was a risk that the Empty would keep Cas trapped in there forever. That just wasn’t a risk Dean was willing to take. Luckily, he had a plan B.

“No deal,” Dean said, pulling an angel blade from his pocket.

“Is that your plan? Attack me with an angel blade? That’s cute, Dean. But I’m the Empty. I rule over fallen angels, remember, that’s not going to work on me.”

“That might be so,” Dean said, throwing the angel blade at the Empty, watching as it landed in its chest, “but an angel blade bonded with pieces of Death’s Scythe? That’s Kryptonite.”

When Dean found the spell that would let him into the Empty, the Men of Letters also included a section on how to slow the Empty down. If you were able to cut the Empty with the blade of Death’s Scythe, it would send the Empty back to the depths of its abyss where it would have to reform. When Billie attacked him and Cas, she broke off a couple small pieces of her blade, which Dean later found in the hallway. He figured if he could weld the two metals together, it would work.

As the Empty melted and vanished into the void, Dean stared, shocked. His plan actually worked. It wasn’t a sure thing, about a 50/50 chance, and considering the other option was him and Cas being murdered, he was glad to see his gamble paid off.

“Alright, let’s go.” Dean grabbed his blade, and ran with Cas in a direction he could only hope was correct. They didn’t get very far before the ground began to quake beneath them. “What the hell is that?”

“What the hell is right,” a voice grumbled as it materialized into a human form. It was followed by another, and another, appearing from nowhere.

“Demons,” Cas said, turning in circles, realizing he and Dean were quickly becoming surrounded. “Run.”

Both men sprinted into the darkness, but were quickly tackled by a group of demons. Dean and Cas fought, punching and wrestling the demons. It seemed like every time they escaped and were able to cover some ground, more demons found them.

They ran and fought their way through the Empty, until they found it. They could see the glow of the rift in the distance, they were so close, but demons kept finding them, and they were intent on keeping them trapped in the Empty forever.

Cas fought the best he could, but with his powers all but gone, he didn’t have much to draw from. The odds were against him. Luckily, Dean was able to kill the demons, with the help of his blade, but not before they pummeled Cas.

Dean kneeled down next to Cas, terrified by the sight of blood spilling from his mouth. This was bad. Dean tried to help Cas get back on his feet, but Cas shook his head, staying put.

“I’m too weak,” Cas said, wincing as his words emphasized the pain of his bruised ribs. “You have to go without me.”

“Cas, don’t do this.”

The ground rumbled again, and the pounding of demon footsteps drew closer. There wasn’t time to argue.

“This is where I belong, Dean. You still have a chance to save yourself.”

“No. Not this time. We’re so close. I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Must you be so stubborn, Dean? You can still make it.” Cas’s voice rumbled with frustration. “Go.”

Dean recognized instantly that that was not a request, but an order. He didn’t care. He knew how this played out once, saw first hand the miserable fall out of it all, and as long as he still had his own free will, he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“Not without you,” Dean said, reaching his hand out again to try to help Cas. Cas knocked it away, overcome with anger.

“Damn it, Dean, why won’t you just go!”

“Because I love you, Cas!” Shock hit Dean as the words left his mouth. Even though he knew Cas felt the same way, it still somehow felt too heavy, too intimate to actually speak into existence. It felt like his soul was an open wound, raw and exposed. He turned his gaze to the ground, trying to compose himself. He had to keep it together if he was going to get them back to Earth. “So don’t you ask me to leave you, because I can’t do that. We’re both getting out of here, or we’re both dying here, and those are the only two options, got it?”

Cas nodded, the faint hint of a smile forming. “Got it.”

Two demons caught up with them, and set their sights on Cas. Dean could see the bloodlust in their eyes, and attacked them before they could make their move. He made quick work of them, stabbing them and sending them to wherever demons go when they die in the Empty. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that they were gone, and he could get Cas to safety.

Dean slid his arm around Cas, lifting him up. Cas was right, he was weak. He had a limp, and he was bleeding, but Dean could handle it.

“I got you, buddy. Don’t worry.”

Dean picked Cas up into a fireman’s carry, more demons charging toward them in the distance, and with the last bit of strength he had, he ran into the rift.

They landed back in the bunker, and Dean knew he didn’t have much time. He grabbed the container of holy oil he used earlier and poured it into a bowl. He pulled the altered angel blade from his pocket and used it to stir the mixture. It had both plasma from the Empty, and demon blood on it. Two birds with one stone. Hopefully.

“Hang in there, Cas, alright. It’s almost over,” Dean said, drawing a devil’s trap with the oil around the still open rift. He struck a match, and dropped it on the oil, watching the sigil burst into tall flames.

The devil’s trap began to glow before shooting a beam of light up to the ceiling. The light pulsed for a second, then swallowed the rift as it contracted and disappeared. The fire went out, leaving nothing but the faint wisps of smoke in its wake.

The bunker was quiet. Dean and Cas looked around, there was no sign of the Empty, no sign that any angels or demons had followed them back. It was just the two of them, alone.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dean grabbed some bandages and rubbing alcohol, despite Cas’s objection to leave him be and that he didn’t need to be fussed over. He carefully cleaned his wounds, and bandaged up the really bad cuts.

As Dean cleaned the blood from the corner of Cas’s mouth, his hand resting gently on his chin, the pricking tickle of peach fuzz against his fingers, he looked into Cas’s eyes, and swore he could see the rest of his life right there.

“Cas, there’s something I have to tell you, man.”

“No, Dean, it’s fine. You don’t have to-“

“Just let me say this.” Dean took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on all the reasons why he needed to say this, instead of the voice telling him to keep his mouth shut. “When you told me you loved me, I didn’t know what to say. There was so much happening, and there just wasn’t enough time.”

There was a tightening in the back of Dean’s throat, and God damn it, he didn’t want to cry, but when you’re unearthing something that’s been buried for decades, it hurts like hell.

“Cas, you mean more to me than I can even say. It’s so hard for me to admit that, because everyone I care about dies, and I can’t handle losing you again. Every single time you left me, I fell apart. And I know you don’t think that’s true, because I never told you, but honestly, it was just because I was scared. I was scared of my own feelings, I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way about me, I was scared you couldn’t feel that way about me. And then you said it, and it was like my world turned on its head. It was everything I wanted, and everything I was so sure I couldn’t have all at once. I didn’t even have a chance to process any of it before you were just… gone.”

Dean took Cas’s hands into his own, both of their eyes brimming with tears. This time Dean knew in the back of his head that no one was coming to ruin his happiness, even if his heart couldn’t fully accept it yet. He knew he was safe with Castiel, the angel, who out of many options, chose to love. The angel who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. The angel who saw the best in him, when he only saw the worst in himself. The angel who gave up an army, rebelled against heaven, gave up his own life so many times for one man.

“So, say it to me again, so I can give you the answer that you deserve.”

Cas smiled, tears falling down his cheeks. He had hoped for years, that this moment would be a reality, but he, much like Dean, didn’t think it possible. But here he was, holding hands with the human who made him question order and obedience. The human who felt things so deeply, and loved with all his heart. The human who changed him, and how he saw the world, and the world itself.

“Dean,” Cas began, happiness filling his being. His smile, full of pure joy. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Cas.”

Without hesitation, and because he felt like he couldn’t hold himself back even one more second, Dean pulled Cas in close and kissed him. The too-rough passion of it, as if their lips found their soulmate, was so much better then what either of them imagined. The wax and wane of their breaths slipping between tongues— a song to say “yes” to when a lover asks if they can have this dance. It was a gentle surrender to bliss, a white flag they both wished to wave for far too long.

In that moment, with nothing more between them, no more lies, no more doubt, they both got to experience a moment of true happiness. They got to experience each other. No consequences. No punishment. Just true, honest, peace.

Their voices were no longer silenced by the forces they thought held dominion over them. This was not the end of their story, but the beginning. They were two magnificent beings, brought together not by fate, but by free will, finally being able to live the life they deserved— one full of hope, endless possibilities, and knowing that the person they loved, loved them in return.

#Destiel #Fanfic #DeanCas #Supernatural #Fanfiction #SPNDBCC #Dean Saves Cas From The Empty #Hurt/Comfort #Love Confession #First Kiss #THEY GET TO BE HAPPY #Dean Is Bi #Dean Loves Cas #Cas Loves Dean #REQUITED Love #Major Character Undeath #Writing

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ashleyswrittenwords · 4 years

Text

Subtleties of a Suitor (Part 1 of 2)

Summary: Pre-calamity AU where Zelda’s powers awaken in time, but not everything is back to normal after Calamity Ganon is defeated.

Note: This is all @intangiblyyourswrites‘s fault. Also, the second part is NSFW -which also happens to be Kristie’s fault. Enjoy!

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Scrawling ink coated the underside of her hand and left light imprints on the edge of the paper. That paper was bound within leather covers that rarely left the Princess’s desk. It was a journal of upmost confidence; containing her deepest secrets and cresting moments of happiness. The highs and lows of her life caught between compressed papyrus.

It was hardly secretive that her lows were concentrated in the years before, caught in the repetitive cycle of failing expectations that were handed down to her from birth. This desk and this journal were Princess Zelda’s small reprieve. Even going as far as referring to it as an old friend because it felt better to write with purpose than to speak nothings into a void.

My dearest friend,

A worry line creased her forehead. The nameless friend was so accustomed to moments of happiness nowadays, it felt alarming to her that she was writing with distress once more.

These days have been nothing short of harrowing. In my last letter, I was convinced that he finally understood my intentions after Calamity Ganon was sealed away. I thought-

She paused her pen strokes and glared at the page, willing herself to connect thoughts to words and words to paper.

We don’t meet anymore, we haven’t since before the monster was sealed away. Even though the night prior haunted my dreams for weeks following my expressed wishes to cease these small moments of privacy. No matter how sweet and innocent they could be. As you know, in my heart of hearts I can’t bind him to me when-

When Zelda could never be his. When, in times of great enlightenment and prosperity, their fates have crossed and her father now sees him only as a valuable combatant in his army. When destinies have been fulfilled and they were no use to one another.

They both knew this in the beginning, but with the veil of ignorance and Zelda’s everflowing failure, she was convinced they were fated to die with the kingdom. It was a simple case of action and reaction. If she didn’t unlock her sealing powers, then Calamity Ganon would not be defeated.

The knowledge most likely drew out their passion. Pages upon pages recounted shaky hands and blushing cheeks that glowed hot and bright against starry skies. A string of months where she felt more warm than she had ever been and more loved than she thought she deserved.

Then, a week after the Calamity, when Link was pressing her against the railing of an empty stairwell far from the celebratory festivities, she broke their kiss after her guilt grew too heavy for her chest to bear. Zelda will never be able to forget the unmasked hurt on his face as she thickly told him that they couldn’t do this anymore. Among it all, Zelda told him she loved him.

I was under the impression he understood. Father offered Link a promotion and he didn’t even wait a day to think about it. The next evening another man was waiting by my door and of course it shocked me. A part of me wanted to be belligerent when Link hadn’t bothered to ask, another part was more than understanding. But now?

Now I’m rethinking everything.

It started two weeks ago.

The court was lively. Since Calamity Ganon’s appearance and subsequent defeat, Hyrule Castle had its fair share of celebrations. Three months later, the Zora was being hosted within its walls. Without looming dread over her head, Princess Zelda found herself in more social circles. The Zoran princess and Champion, Mipha, became an especially close contact. As opposing as the two princesses were, they had cultivated a solid friendship. Zelda assisted Mipha with fitting into Hylian customs and Mipha was a fantastic listener.

“Link hasn’t said anything about it to me,” Mipha said gently, swinging her little brother in her arms. Prince Sidon made a disgruntled noise and reached out towards Zelda once more.

The small prince smoothed the trouble in her brow as she heaved him in her arms. “Well maybe it’s for the best. We should both move on.”

They were taking turns about the court, trying to spend the dying summer days. Sidon giggled and reached out to his sister.. Mipha seemed to be debating what to say before opting for nothing at all and looked across the room. Her Hylian companion followed her gaze to find Link communing with her father and few other Zora. It was typical for him to parade around the Hero of Hyrule as if he were some trophy.

“I don’t know, Zelda,” Mipha softly said beside her. A joke from Link made the group laugh and suddenly the blond caught her eye. As if stung, Zelda looked at the marble tiles in front of her. She scorned herself when her mind would drift from the fact that he wasn’t wearing his Champion’s Tunic. “His burden is lifted, yes, but it’s not like him to so easily let go of someone.”

When Zelda didn’t respond, Mipha tried to reassure her. “I could be wrong. If anything, we can refer to Lady Urbosa.”

As they walked, they soon found themselves amongst a throng of Zoran and Hylian ladies who began to gossip about the affluential bachelors in the room. Although she was physically there with polite smiles galore, her head was miles from the court. There was something about wealth they were talking about when all went silent.

“Master Link!” a woman exclaimed, “What a pleasant surprise!”

Suddenly, Zelda was back with slight vertigo. The group moved from her and began asking a dizzying amount of questions.

“Tell us, how frightful was that monster?”

An excited Zoran was nearing jumping out of her draped fabrics. “Heavens! Recall to us how you slayed the dreadful Calamity Ganon, please sir.”

“Oh goodness, Catherine, not with my weak nerves.”

Why hadn’t they asked Zelda those questions? She was there too!

The man seemed caught up in the storm of women and it occurred to Zelda that she had the opportunity to slip away amongst the chaos. Right when she discreetly bid Mipha goodbye, Link began speaking.

“You’re all too kind. I’m afraid I’m not a very good storyteller,” he wore a graceful smile, but she could see the anxiety behind his eyes. She knew him. Then, she saw the skies in his eyes and any desire to leave dissipated. “I can tell you that Princess Zelda saved my life.”

All eyes fell on her and she felt the acute urge to stare at her feet. Her voice sounded foreign, “You say the most fantastic hyperboles, Captain.”

Those were the first words she has said to him beyond common pleasantries in three months.

“I assure you that there was no embellishment in the slightest.” Link was looking at her along with the rest of the ladies.

“Ah, well,” Zelda trailed off, “It was only fair when you saved mine.”

That caused a sea of hushed whispers around them. The woman that separated them spoke up excitedly, “Will you allow us a story or two, sir?”

“My apologies, I should be off to the barracks right now,” Link said, meeting her again. “I came to bid Her Highness goodbye.”

Another wave of whispers as the woman between them shuffled off quickly. Confusion ebbed at the Princess, but refined manners kept it at bay. Link reached out to her and she instinctively offered her hand, but his fingers grazed the underside of her forearm, the tips of his glove brushing down its length before finally clasping her palm. As he bent down low, he held her gaze, and it felt like they were the only people in the room. Warm lips pressed a long, searing kiss to her hand, and it revived the sensation of those same lips drifting up the inside of her thighs.

He pulled back, “You look lovely this evening, Princess. I hope we cross paths again.”

Zelda’s lips drew tight together and she nodded chastely, not trusting her voice to speak. Footsteps on marbled signified his leave and she looked at Mipha, who stared back with bewilderment. The two princesses thought the same question.

What was that?

Her ink quill scratched against the paper from added pressure, she readjusted her grip.

I thought about it for the rest of the evening. That one moment dredged up emotions I spent weeks burying. Logically, I had chalked it up to basic biology; chemicals in my brain that were ultimately a hindrance to my responsibilities. For a few hours, that had worked until I found out that that night would be the first of many where he would bid me goodnight.

The next day was no better because Father decided he was honored enough to dine with us.

“I’m so glad you can join us, Captain!” King Rhoam boisterously said. “There is a seat next to Princess Zelda.”

The woman stared holes into her empty plate as the chair beside her grated against the floor. When her father coughed to clear his throat she glanced up, “Isn’t it nice that he has joined us, Zelda?”

“Oh, yes,” she smiled tightly, hardly meeting their eyes. “It’s good to see you, Link.”

Her hands folded tightly in her lap. Zelda didn’t hear him reply, so she assumed he demonstrated his signature nod. Perhaps he didn’t want to be there either. Before the Calamity, he was never permitted to sit at the royal table, much less next to the princess. He was a simple soldier then, she reminded herself, someone with promise. Princess Zelda assumed this was another way for her father to show off the Hero of Hyrule to the lords and ladies at the table.

The thought made her bite the inside of her cheek. Didn’t he deserve better? Had he been asked what he wanted?

Supper crawled by painfully. Typically, she didn’t mind if someone sat by her but she hadn’t realized how common it was to brush arms with a neighbor. Each time they touched, she’d involuntarily flinch away. Sometimes he would mumble his apologies that were a little too close to her ear.

Like all things, the torture ceased and as Zelda was about to excuse herself, dessert was announced.

“Where are you off to?” Link said, watching as she was already half-risen from her chair.

The Princess swallowed her curses. “I’m excusing myself,” she lilted, not quite leveling with him. “A lady should keep her figure.”

It was a bold-faced lie. She knew that he knew she loved sweets and would easily endure three courses of her most hated dishes to reach them. Zelda dared him to say anything. The door to the kitchen swung open and revealed several servants. Her father suddenly eyed her oddly, “Are you not planning to stay? I requested fruitcake for this evening on your behalf.”

Oh.

Link looked away as she flopped back in her seat. Despite the rolling in her stomach, her cheeks flared in embarrassment and she rushed to say, “Thank you, Father.”

As much as Zelda wished it would, the issue hadn’t immediately folded. When a large cake was placed on the table, she had the full intention of taking the slice to her room under the guise of studying a fallen Guardian’s laser module. It would be an easy solution to this problem. The cake knife was in her field of view and she went for it, only for another’s to brush her hand away.

With accusation in her eyes, Zelda watched the smallest smile - almost unnoticeable - cross Link’s face.

“What are you doing?” she said under her breath, glancing around the table to assure no one was watching. It hadn’t seemed to be the case, but this was exactly what she didn’t want. The Princess knew this court and though they’re opinion of her had shifted, the lords and ladies would cling to any rumor no matter how innocent his actions were.

His eyes were carefully guarded and if he had been anyone else, she would have been offended by how large the slice of fruitcake was when he set it on her plate . Right when she moved to stand, he caught her with his words.

“Who is it that has you caring about the way you look?”

At the head of the table, King Rhoam was laughing at something an advisor said. By now, it would look uncouth to leave the table mid-course. With a heavy breath, Princess Zelda pulled her chair in and spread her napkin over her skirts. The cake was layered with lemon icing, which would usually make her exponentially excited. Her lips upturned into a soft frown. He shouldn’t ask questions like that. It wasn’t fair.

Annoyance surged into her chest. “Does it matter?”

He was quiet for a moment and conversations from others dominated the air between them. The fruitcake tasted stale in her mouth.

“Yes.”

She wasn’t looking at him - she couldn’t. A stirring feeling lodged itself in her throat and threatened to bring about everything she tried to undo. Memories of laughing so hard in Hyrule Field, doubled over in her saddle from something ridiculous he had said; learning in that moment that he looked at her like she was the moon on a cloudless night; his hands twirling her into a circle besides a campfire to the sound of her humming ballroom tunes.

He had asked me if I fell out of love with him or he had hurt me in some way. I hadn’t and I wasn’t then and I am not now. It wasn’t just about me, but him as well. If it came out to the court, to the public, that we were having an affair, of course I would be criticized. My character put into question and subsequently tarnished for as long as it stayed in the minds of my peers, but nothing would happen to my title. I would still be the Princess of Hyrule.

Link would be scrutinized and his reputation ruined. He could be subject to expellment and be banished from the castle or Castle Town entirely. That was a fear I had harbored and for me to perpetuate our relationship for selfish indulgence… that isn’t love. At least, not a love he deserved.

Daintily, Zelda set her fork beside her plate and partially turned to him. The man had been expecting her as if this was any ordinary conversation, his fork pressing down the spongy dessert instead of eating it.

“Only because you care so much,” she uttered with a stiff back. “The royal family of Labrynna will be hosted in Hyrule Castle in just a few days. I haven’t seen their prince since I was a child.”

His expression hadn’t changed, but he ceased his movements with the fork. Guilt pricked at the edge of her consciousness. Link placed his fork on his plate and reached up. Immediately, her faced flushed hotly and felt his coarse fingertips brushed her cheek. There wasn’t any movement to indicate that she would pull away from his touch.

Then, he smirked. “There was cream on your face.”

It was like he didn’t care! I was mortified.

Her ink pen ran underneath the last word several times to create a line deep enough to bleed onto the next page. The worry line on her forehead had creased deeper as she recounted the events that had happened.

I should have made it clear to him after dessert was over, but when we were taking leave, Father got caught up in a conversation with him. I couldn’t confront him at that point and when Link came to my door again to say goodnight, I shouldn’t have opened it. And when I did, I should have told him: Link, this is inappropriate and I’ve told you that I didn’t want this to continue. Especially in front of my father, no less!

But I didn’t.

Zelda’s face burned and she couldn’t get herself to write down that she might have liked it. She was someone who was both stubborn inside and out, and even her feelings wouldn’t leave with tumultuous effort on Zelda’s part. What was she supposed to say? That she really does miss him and that every second around him chipped deeper in the hole he left?

It was rude. Irresponsible. Ungentlemanly and without regards to propriety. OR my feelings for that matter! What if the way I felt about him is different? Three months is a long time.

And then she remembered his self-satisfied smirk when her face was hot under his hand. Her handwriting grew more frantic against the paper and she had to consciously apply less pressure before the quill-tip punctured through the surface.

Her mind shifted to the days after.

Labrynna was hosted in Hyrule Castle amongst continued celebrations of Hyrule’s success. Their King and Queen were welcomed with open arms, overwhelmed by the jubilations of Hyrulean citizens. Along with them was their son and daughter: Prince Tyrion and Princess Aurra.

Prince Tyrion had written to Zelda several times after the Calamity about their shared childhood, a time she hadn’t remembered at all herself and referred to Impa more than once to verify his stories and to write back to adequately pretend she had. The Labrynnian princess was someone Zelda wasn’t aware of whatsoever and even her father had leaned in during the processions to ask of her name.

Aurra, however, was acutely aware of Zelda. More importantly, she knew of the Hylian Champion who slew a monstrous being of myths.

Not long after making her introductions to Princess Zelda and King Rhoam, she skipped to who was at King Rhoams side and curtsied. Before Zelda could see Link’s reaction, Prince Tyrion took up her view. She offered the appropriate pleasantries and allowed him to take her hand, but she didn’t miss when Link took Princess Aurra’s.

She made note that he didn’t bring it to his lips.

Through the day, she didn’t wander from Prince Tyrion’s side. He was an interesting man; well read and well traveled. She found him to be a fantastic conversationalist nor was she blind to his charm. Dark eyes paired with brunet hair that was shorn close to his ears, which were notably shorter than any Hylian’s - a common trait amongst his people.

However, he was also arrogant.

As King Rhoam led the party through the castle grounds, a level above the barracks and training grounds, Tyrion spoke up.

“You know, Your Majesty, I am well trained in the arts of combat,” he said with a slight smile.

Rhoam raised a brow, turning slightly to face his daughter and the Prince. Two men sparred below, each clash of their swords echoing off the walls. The King of Labrynna nodded in affirmation, a certain pride in his face. “Yes, it’s custom for our prodigy to learn the blade from young ages. Tyrion has a special affinity to it.”

“Fascinating. I hope to see your skill during your stay, young man.”

“Well,” the smile of the Prince’s face and he gestured to Link behind him. “I would be honored to spar with the Hero of Hyrule.”

Princess Aurra stopped her chattering with Link and grabbed the sleeve of his blue tunic, “Oh, brother, you will surely lose. Isn’t that right, Link?”

Zelda swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with her familiarity with him after only hours. Even more was how unbothered he was by it.

“It surely would be quite the duel,” Rhoam mused, “As long as it has your approval, Captain.”

Link nodded Tyrion’s way, graciously, “The honor would be all mine, Your Highness.”

He said it to the Prince, but his eyes meandered to Zelda’s.

The preparation took an hour and by the time Princess took her seat overlooking the training grounds, the sun casted a golden glow over them. King Rhoam was incredibly eager for the duel, shooting secret smiles at his daughter as the two men shook hands below.

It was clear who would win to the Princess, Link was at the top of his class even before he became her attendant. She scolded herself, though, and told herself that she shouldn’t underestimate Prince Tyrion so soon.

Dimly, she could hear the two opponents giving their regards to one another. The Prince had changed into an elaborately designed sparring outfit that appeared to have leather padding laced at his forearms. Link, however, changed only into Hylian trousers.

Princess Aurra hummed next to Zelda, “Is that the magical sword? It looks normal to me.”

It wasn’t as he had chosen a Knight’s Broadsword to match Tyrion’s.

“It isn’t the Master Sword. We returned it to the pedestal after felling Calamity Ganon.”

Aurra blinked, “Together?”

Zelda politely nodded. That sword was an extension of Link and she remembered comforting him after he realized its purpose was served. The night of, she felt his tears through her nightgown and told him he was more than his destiny - they both were.

After Link gave his regards to King Rhoam and Princess Zelda, a man who had sparred prior held an arm out and shouted to begin the duel.

“Oh, how exciting!” Aurra squealed.

The two men circled each other like vultures. Prince Tyrion was the first to push forward, a simple feint that Link sidestepped. He was testing the waters. Then, the Prince leapt forward and went for his opponent’s side, who parried without losing ground. There were several short exchanges of the Hero being passive, while Tyrion was assertive.

Before Zelda knew it, she was gripping the sides of her chair as they danced. Tyrion was grinning wildly at his stoic opponent. He hadn’t been bluffing earlier, he was skilled. The Hylian Princess had seened Link spar time and time again, never did it take so long for him to disarm his opponent in some manner. The sun beat down on them, creating glistening sweat on their skin that bled darkly through their clothes.

Suddenly, Tyrion had space for a large horizontal slash before Link could recover from a parry. Zelda let out a yelp and watched him duck into a lateral roll, regaining his senses and plenty of ground between them.

Tyrion harked out a laugh, “You are brilliant, sir!”

They were panting now and the comment brought a sideways smile to Link’s lips. “I appreciate the regard, Your Highness. You’re a remarkable swordsman.”

They took a moment to breathe and Link did the unthinkable. His Champion tunic was discarded easily to the ground and Zelda held her breath when his eyes found hers on the perch where she sat.

Princess Aurra gasped softly. Zelda didn’t blame her. Hard lines on his stomach were only more prominent in the sun and his chest heaved with his hard breaths. The lack of coverage revealed the flex of his arm as he readjusted his grip on the blade.

It wasn’t an oddity that he was now half naked. Tyrion had long let the strings that laced the neckline of his tunic loosen, leaving a large portion of his chest exposed. Considering that they were already in the heat of midsummer, the sight of shirtless men should be expected at this end of the castle. But Link, well, he was always different.

The Prince of Labrynna lunged forward with a grunt, thrusting his blade out. Where Tryion was tactful, almost mechanical, in his movements, Link was fluid. He took his opponents strikes like water, flowing into the gaps of his defenses and reevaluating in a moment’s notice. It truly was an art in Zelda’s eyes, a very dangerous art.

Much different than anything Tyrion had done, he brought his blade upward in a sideways slashing arch with a loud shout. Princess Zelda’s heart surged in her chest. Link grit his teeth and threw his weight back into a flip, landing on his feet.

Surprise registered in Tyrion’s eyes and couldn’t recover fast enough when Link brought his blade against the hilt of His Highness’s broadsword. The blade was sent skidding along the dirt.

“Ah,” Tyrion brought his hand up to further demonstrate his lack of weapon. “I yield.”

It was then that Zelda realized she was holding her breath. Her father and his guests had all stood and applauded, so she followed suit.

“Good show!” Aurra leaned on the stone wall. “Very well done!”

The two men clasped hands again with a few words of respect. The Hylian princess watched a short regaling and found an opportunity to slip away from the processions without another glance at the arena.

#wow look at allllll those words #loz #zelink #zelda #link #zelink fanfiction #fanfiction #loz fanfiction #legend of zelda #ashleyswrittenwords #subtleties of a suitor

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second-chance-stray · 3 years

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Rp Log: Cravs introduces “Windy” to Lin.

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs has sent a letter to “Windy,” asking him to meet at the Heartwood estate in order to meet a friend of hers. Of course, lacking an address, Cravs had simply handed a moogle the letter with “Windy” written on it, and had hoped that it’d somehow find its way. She waits outside, searching for that telltale tuff of blond hair.

(Cravendy Hound) And moments prior, she had told Lin that she’d be bringing over a friend of hers tonight. A mailman who delivers on foot, who can outrun a chocobo, who’s really good at fighting bugs. What Lin would think of that description...well, it was up to her.

(Bertram Windshadow) It is by the miracle that is the Moogle Mail System that a letter found its way into Bertram's hands. How convenient to couriers that 'knew what she meant'. Though when Bertram saw the address in the letter he was certainly a bit surprised. It certainly wasn't a place unfamiliar to him. At least ... he thought that was the correct address? Any doubt was quickly dispelled as he approached the ground proper, looking travel worn as ever.

(Bertram Windshadow) He hadn't set recovered from his mild confusion when he bumped into Cravendy. "... Oh! Uh ... hey there. It's good to see ya again." He pauses. "Is ... this where you work?"

(Bertram Windshadow) (( We're re-enacting the Tyler1 meme right now. )) (Cravendy Hound) PFffFFahaha ))

(Aislinn North) Cravendy had breezed through the front library like a gust of wind moments before, explaining to Lin there was a friend she wanted her to meet and potentially sign a contract with Heartwood. Aislinn had only had time to look up from her notes and blink owlishly, a disoriented 'Alright' coming from her before Cravendy had disappeared out the front door. Aislinn shook her head. While Cravendy had all the power to had her friend a contract herself, ...

(Aislinn North) Aislinn understood that the Seawolf was still uncomfortable with her position in Heartwood. She frowned down at the report from Heartwood's informants and tried to reach a good stopping point before the company arrived.

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs waves at Bertram as he approaches. “Oy there! That’s right. Welcome to ‘eartwood.” She proudly points to the company’s gates. “I said I worked as a mercenary, didn’t I? Anyway, let me show ye around. This ‘ere is the...” She steps into the garden and begins to list off her opinions about the décor.

(Cravendy Hound) Stuff along the lines of “This tree is a nice tree. This tree is not a nice tree.”

(Aislinn North) ((I kinda want to know what quantifies a 'not nice tree' in Cravs' mind xD)) (Cravendy Hound) LOL probably if she holds a personal grudge against it...like a branch falling on her xD )) (Aislinn North) ((That's exactly what I was thinking! It all comes down to a grudge she must hold against it!))

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram rather understands that such distinctions are important when one lives in the Shroud. You wouldn't want to wake up and have your breakfast in the shade of a *grumpy* tree. Of course, as Cravendy rather enthusiastically leads him through the gardens he isn't exactly able to find the opportunity to mention that he's been here before ... instead he just listens polite and occasionally nods ... smiling!

(Cravendy Hound) After giving Bertram a thorough tour of the garden, she finally shows him to the door. “Alright, ‘nough about the good and evil of plants and rocks. My friend should be waitin’ inside for us.” She pauses, and gives a wide grin to her guest. “I think ye’ll like ‘er. She’s...serious, but dependable.”

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram couldn't truly keep himself from starting to connect dots the longer he thought about it. Of course Bertram couldn't claim to have met all the members of Heartwood, so maybe he was mistaken, but ... things seemed to be pointing in a certain direction. "Anything that can keep up with you must be, I think." He let out a quiet chuckle, bobbing his head to the side.

(Cravendy Hound) “Heh, it’s the other way ‘round. Ask ‘er about the time we fought a giant dodo.” Cravs smirks, and then barges in.

(Aislinn North) So the mage she sought had quit Ul'dah and returned to Ishgard after the Calamity. She hung her head and let go a heavy sigh. Bloody Coerthas. Again. Just then, she heard Cravendy and her friend approaching and set the report face down on the table. Certain to clear any lingering annoyance from her face in regards to the report, she turned with a polite smile at the ready and makes her way over to them, smoothing down her skirt. ...

(Aislinn North) "Welcome to Heart-- *Bertram*" she blinked in surprise, quickly shifting her gaze between him and Cravendy. "-This- is your friend?" laughter bubbling up. "Cravendy, this is Bertram." she paused. Perhaps Cravendy didn't recall that part. Wyda would have. She shook her head. "He's an old childhood friend." she turned her attention to Bertram with a warm smile. "Alright, there?"

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram couldn't really keep a straight face as Aislinn walked up, his lips twisting into something decidedly goofy looking. The sight of Aislinn immediately put to bed any doubts regarding who Cravendy's friend was. His laughter was quick to join Aislinn's as his smile grew, dipping his head toward Aislinn in confirmation, "Got my head on my shoulders." He tilts his head to the side, still smiling, "What about you, Linn? Seems we've got a mutual friend."

(Bertram Windshadow) He glances over to Cravendy with an amused expression.

(Cravendy Hound) Looks between the two of them repeatedly, confusion growing with every iteration. “What? Ye know each other already? Wait, what?”

(Cravendy Hound) “Bugger, I can’t go round assumin’ every golden ‘aired man is Bertram. An ye didn’t tell me ‘e was wanderin’ round the Shroud!” Cravs grumbles at Lin. She then turns her ire to the man himself. “And get that smile off yer face. I thought yer name was Windy!”

(Aislinn North) "It does seem that way, doesn't it?" she nodded to Bertram, a thread of good humor still in her voice. "Windy?" laughter threatened to overtake her again but she could see Cravendy was flustered more than anything and did her best to hold it in. "Ahh...wait. So he's the one that saved you when the Shroud attacked?"

(Bertram Windshadow) He blinks several times as his mind processes that. Maybe he should have corrected her when she kept calling him Windy? It had seemed ... y'know ... 'close enough' for him. Then he's chuckling quietly at the absolutely delightful ridiculousness of the situation. "I mean ... it is. Sort of. Windshadow; it's an epithet of sorts."

(Aislinn North) "Like Ren and Armsbreaker." she added. "They're Highlander battle names." she glanced back to Bertram. "Cravendy said you were looking for work? You could have told me that."

(Cravendy Hound) “Ye should’ve! Corrected me!” Cravs grabs Bertram by the shoulder and shakes him like a maraca. “ARgh! Don’t tell me ye’ve been ‘ere afore too! Why didn’t ye stop me in the middle! Of! The garden tour!”

(Bertram Windshadow) (( Oh my *gosh*. )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( Betram's going to be a few marbles short after a rattling like that! ))

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram starts to bob his head in Aislinn's direction in solidarity to her clarification before Aislinn turns the focus onto the matter of his looking for work. Of course, before he manages to say anything, Cravendy is upon him and shaking out any cobwebs that might be building up in his skull. "I'm sorry!" He calls out, though there's a certain joviality to it, "I have, I'm sorry. You got started before I could say anything and then, I don't know! it seemed like you were having a good time."

(Aislinn North) Blinked and hurriedly stepped between them in an effort to keep Bertram's senses from being rattled into oblivion. "Cravendy!" she wasn't loud by nature, but her voice held a urgent edge. "It was a simple misunderstanding, is all."

(Cravendy Hound) Lin’s intervention thankfully brings an end to the shake-egeddon. Cravs huffs, half overwhelmed with embarrassment and half winded from the effort of nearly shaking Bertram’s head loose. “Aargh, bloody bastard...And ‘ere I was, thinkin’ I was gonna bring two friends together, and it turns out they know each other better than they know me!”

(Cravendy Hound) “Anyone else wanna say somethin’ I don’t know afore I make a fool out of myself?” She groans, red faced.

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram stumbles his way back just a touch as he is released, a hand rising to his head to gives himself a steadying before looking back up to Cravendy. He sobers just a touch and offers the woman a light smile. "You did bring two friends together though. And not to mention given me all the confirmation that I'd ever need to know that you're a good sort yourself."

(Aislinn North) Let go a soft breath of relief as Cravendy mercifully releases Bertram. She glanced over at him to be sure he was alright before turning back to Cravendy with a wave of her hand. "That's only because we've had the benefit of time, nothing more. And aye, it's been awhile since we've seen each other, so you did what you set out to do." she eyed him over her shoulder with a teasing glint in her eye. "He has a tendency to disappear for Twelve knows how long. So we were due for a bit of catching up."

(Aislinn North) "Now I know he's been off racing chocobos and saving people from the Shroud, though." she looked back at him again with a deadpan look as if to say 'Racing chocobos. Really?'

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs sighs, slowly but surely recovering from the near lethal dose of embarrassment she had received seconds earlier. She grumpily rubs the space between her brows, as if kneading her head could will it to better process what was going on. “Windy, don’t tell me yer not even a mailman...”

(Aislinn North) Cleared her throat at that. "Maybe we should all go have a drink."

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram lifts a hand up, rubbing the back of his neck a bit bashfully at the teasing before collecting himself enough to give a slightly bemused shrug. It ... seemed like a good idea at the time? He didn't have a good explanation. He looks back to Cravendy as she poses the question. He looks like he's about to answer but hears Aislinn clear her throat and follows her lead. "That's sounds nice, yeah."

(Cravendy Hound) “Bah. Best idea I ‘eard all night.” Cravs goes up the stairs to where the company bar is located.

(Aislinn North) Gave another sigh and glanced at Bertram. "Well, it's good to see you again."

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram looks to Aislinn with an expression that reads as 'is she going to be alright?' before offering a light smile and following up the stairs. "It's good to see you too, Linn."

(Aislinn North) Leaned down under the bar and pulled out a pint glass before looking at Cravendy and Bertram. "Right then. What're you two having?" she asked as she poured cider from the tap.

(Bertram Windshadow) The Windshadow Riker's his way over the stool and settles himself down upon it before glancing around the bartop. "Ah ... " he skewed his lips to the side slightly before retreating to an easy answer, " ... whatever you're having there. That looks good!"

(Cravendy Hound) “I think ye should regale me with embarrassing stories from Windy’s youth. Only fair for what ‘e put me through,” Cravs says to Lin while shooting Bertram a smirk. “...As for drinks, do we ‘ave any mead left?”

(Aislinn North) ((Lol! Riker's his way. Such an apt and efficient description)) (Bertram Windshadow) (( *laughs and grins* It saves time!! ))

(Aislinn North) Nodded and pulled up another pint. Her hand settled on a wine glass but hesitated and thought of the face Cravendy would make if mead showed up in something like that. She went for a short whiskey tumbler instead. As she pours the drinks she gives Bertram a wry sidelong glance. "Embarrassing stories. I'm sure I can recall one or two. If I think hard enough." She sets the bottle of mead on the counter and then pushes all three glasses to the front of the bar before disappearing to make...

(Aislinn North) her way around front. "But tell me why you thought he was a mailman in the first place?"

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram blinks a couple times, holding up his right hand with index finger extended, before speaking. "In my defense, I didn't even know you worked here until you sent the letter." He glances down slightly, a small smile touching his lips, "But I figure it's only fair in recompense for my not correcting you about my name." He pauses again and glances to Aislinn as she asks her own question ... and then back to Cravendy. He takes a sip of cider.

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs gladly takes the drink in hand and leans against the railing. She traces the brim of glass in thought. Why -did- she think he was a mailman? She was so confident about it earlier, but now...Cravs looks at Bertram with a great deal of suspicion. What IF.

(Cravendy Hound) “Didn’t ye tell me that was yer occupation over drinks? And I could’ve sworn I brought it up a second time when ye were racin’ against my chocobo. Something about ‘ow ye run really fast to deliver mail.” There's a hint of doubt in her voice, mind racing as she questions everything she knows about the man.

(Aislinn North) Glanced between the two, entertained as she took a swallow of the crisp cider. She raised a brow in his direction. Lying wasn't something he was any good at so she knew that couldn't be it.

(Bertram Windshadow) The man furrows his brow slightly as focus turns upon him and he beings to file through his memory in search for the day that he met Cravendy, "... uh ... I think you said that I run really fast? And that I had escape tools. And suggested I was a some kind of courier?" He pauses for a moment, "But ... I think we might have miscommunicated. I ... don't really have a *job* so to speak. Even if I'm running around a lot." He clears his throat and glances away. "Sorry about that."

(Bertram Windshadow) It's his turn to look flushed now.

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs is ilms away from grabbing hold of Bertram’s shoulder and shaking more sense into him, AGAIN. But she doesn’t want to put down her drink, so instead she just facepalms with her one free hand in utter disappointment. “WINDY NO...”

(Cravendy Hound) “Is ‘e always like this? Vague and friendly?!” Cravs gives Lin a pleading look. "Well, at least the jobless part I got right."

(Aislinn North) Turned her attention to Cravendy, a hint of a smile tugging at one corner of her lips. "Sounds like an easy mix-up." she shrugged. She glanced back to Bertram and considered Cravendy's description of him. "Friendly, aye. Vague...well, I think we're both just the quiet sort to let assumptions hang in the air." she shook her head. "Though, honestly Bertram. I wouldn't put it past Cravendy here to keep hounding you until she's found you suitable employ. She's the determined sort."

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram concealed himself -- and his blush -- within the opening of his cider. He was probably taking a longer drink than he actually wanted so that he could keep himself hidden away for a moment. It would seem he and Cravendy had swapped hotseats. He glances over to Aislinn as she offers her ... warning? A slight smile pulls at his lips before he bobs his head to the side, "I'm starting to get that impression ..."

(Bertram Windshadow) He looks back at Cravendy. "All the same. I'm sorry. I can be ... a bit cagey around new people. I'm working on it."

(Aislinn North) ((*hugs the cinnamon roll*))

(Cravendy Hound) “Only if ye want it. But with ‘ow fast ye run, ye would make a fine mailman’, and there are plenty of parcels that I need sent, no questions asked.” A smug grin crosses over her face as she senses the heat switch from her to Bertram.

(Bertram Windshadow) (( Cravendy engaged her trap card! ))

(Cravendy Hound) She leans in close to Bertram and whispers something in his ear. “Some of these could be, ah, unverbal messages. If ye catch my drift.”

(Aislinn North) Pauses, her drink halfway to her lips. "Wait...what do you mean parcels, no questions asked." she narrowed her eyes slightly as she looked over at Cravendy. Her suspicion only grows as Cravendy whispers something to him. "Cravendy, he's not going to be your runner." she stated, emphatic.

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram blinks several times at the whisper. No; he did not catch the drift. At least he didn't think he did. He passes Cravendy a somewhat bewildered look before his gaze flickers back toward Aislinn and she makes her point *very* clear. Oh. Now he was caught up in the drift alright. He remained looking a bit shell-shocked for a moment letting out a quiet laugh, his head shaking in gently bewilderment.

(Bertram Windshadow) "I ... don't know about being a *runner* ... but ... maybe some real work wouldn't be bad for me. I know Aislinn's been suggesting that I apply myself a bit more healthily for a while now and ... well ..." He glances back to Cravendy, "With a force like Cravendy out there trying to help too ... I probably should take a hint."

(Cravendy Hound) “Aw, ye ‘eard the man. He’s good at runnin’, and there’s a few people I’d like to see knocked down a peg or two.” Cravs protests, a toothy grin revealing her canines. “Pff, I wouldn’t start ye with such jobs anyway. Just some stuff to deliver to a village we’ve been helpin’ rebuild, and to ‘elp me look into some business in the east.”

(Aislinn North) Put off glaring at Cravendy to look back to Bertram with a sharp exhale. "Me saying it wasn't enough? Should have gotten Cravendy involved a lot sooner, apparently." she noted with a helpless shake of her head.

(Cravendy Hound) “Oy, e’s a grown man and can make ‘is own decisions. And if that’s runnin’ mad in the wilds, aimless and jobless and all other kinds of ‘less’, then power to ‘im.” Cravs is making assumptions. Again. She takes a sip with a smug smile.

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram offers Aislinn an apologetic expression and soft smile as he bows his head toward the woman. "We'll add it to the long list of things that you were right about ..." He murmured quietly, taking a sip of his cider again. A regular one this time. "Cravendy was just ... the tipping point." He offers in gentle tease.

(Bertram Windshadow) "But ... " He looks back to Cravendy, "If I can help with rebuilding a village I can certainly say I'd be happy to do so." There he goes. Not even asking for job details or compensation.

(Aislinn North) Makes a noise of displeasure in the back of her throat. Maybe she was sick and tired of being right after the fact. She quietly takes another swallow of cider. Or two. She'd let Cravendy give him the details of Dirtpatch.

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs snorts. “It’s called volunteerin’ if ye don’t get paid!”

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram winces as he witnesses the level of embarrassment that whatever childhood story Aislinn has in store for Cravendy skyrockets in realtime in the wake of his response. He blinks and looks back to Cravendy, "Oh, ah ... heh ... right. What's the usual price for something like that?"

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram needs an agent.

(Cravendy Hound) “And volunteerin’ won’t pay the bills. Anyway, it’s just a couple of boxes to deliver to a village called Dirtpatch. A small seatown off the coast of Vylbrand. Tools and medicine, stuff like that.” She pauses. “...I’ve ‘eard recent rumors of pirates attacks though. Those don’t follow the accord. So keep an eye out for them.”

(Cravendy Hound) (me w/ no idea of what the proper payment for this would be* ))

(Aislinn North) "And you're afraid you wouldn't make a good officer." she noted to Cravendy as she propped an elbow on the bar and rested her head against her fingertips. 'Get Paid' was rule number 1 of the mercenary company.

(Aislinn North) "Seems like you got it all sorted out to me."

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs blushes. “I-I’m pretty sure ye keep me around to make the others look better. Why ye all ‘aven’t cut me loose is a mystery I grapple with everyday.”

(Aislinn North) Tipped her head in Cravendy's direction, staring at her over the rim of her glasses with a 'Come on, now.' look. It didn't need to be said.

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram glances between the two women and their exchange with a slightly slanted smile. There was something about it the evoked a feeling of happiness before he let out a quiet laugh and took a drink from his cider once again. "She's got a point, Cravs. You *do* seem like you've got this all sorted."

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs presses her lips together in an attempt to hold back a shy smile. “Seven ‘ells...why we talkin’ bout this anyway? So, Bert, ye want the job or not? Can pay ye this much.” Some reasonable number is presented to the man.

(Aislinn North) ((hehe)) (Cravendy Hound) what even is gil. it's like 3 for an egg, 100 million for a house xD )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( So ... you're telling me if we get 300 million eggs ... )) (Aislinn North) ((Profit)) (Cravendy Hound) xD ))

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram quietly chuckles and passes Cravendy a thought expression before glancing over the presented payout. He -- honestly -- doesn't seem like he has a healthy bearing on *normal* expenses but he nods his head all the same. "Count me in, Cravs. And, in good faith, I submit to whatever embarrassing story Linn has in store for you." He pauses and looks back to Aislinn with a subtle smile.

(Aislinn North) had been minding her own business, drinking her cider when Bertram voiced his offer. She shot him a look of surprise. Honestly, she thought she had well and truly helped him dodge that bullet by turning the conversation but here he was, putting himself back in the hotseat. "Why would you..." she stopped and just ruefully shook her head. She glanced over at Cravendy.

(Cravendy Hound) oh Bertram....I feel like I could pay him in eggs and he'd be like. Looks good? Looks good! )) (Aislinn North) ((He would have loved the Hatchingtide shenanigans in that case xD)) (Bertram Windshadow) (( Oh dear ... *laughs* Hatchingtide shenanigans you say? )) (Aislinn North) ((Cravendy paid us in eggs)) (Cravendy Hound) two words. egg mafia )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( Oh. My. *Gosh*. )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( I am slayed. ))

(Cravendy Hound) “Oh, I -so- look forward to it.” Cravs puts her empty glass onto the bar table and then puts her hands on her hips. Leaning over, she gives Lin and Bertram a devious smile. “And of course, anythin’ ye ‘ave on Lin would be appreciated. No secrets between friends, aye?”

(Aislinn North) turned several shades of red in the span of mere moments. She stared hard at Bertram. This is the mess he got them into. After she had neatly changed the subject. No good deed goes unpunished. She gave a heavy sigh. "I swear to the Twelve, Bertram..." she muttered as she touched her fingers to her brow.

(Bertram Windshadow) Bertram lifts his brow in surprise as Cravendy goes fishing and Aislinn invokes the Twelve. "Oh ... ah ... " Oops. He's definitely made a mess of it now. If you give an inch they'll take a mile, as they say. He clears his throat. "Right, ah ... we'll start with just the one, yeah?" He was just trying to be nice!!

(Cravendy Hound) lmao windy....when niceness leads to the opposite effect ))

(Aislinn North) "Alright..." she takes a swallow of cider and then begins in on the misadventures of Bertram, the would-be rescuer of a cat that belonged to a girl he was sweet on. It inevitably ends with Bertram crashing through the awning of a market stall, into a stack of pristine melons with nothing to show for it but a mess of scratches along his face and arms, an angry crush and a cat that simply saunters further down the ledgetop, not in need of rescuing at all.

(Aislinn North) What followed was a pell-mell escape from one burly, enraged melon merchant.

(Aislinn North) "Ren and I could barely catch our breath for laughing. Once we were in the clear. Of course."

(Aislinn North) The three of them continued to drink and trade stories long into the evening. Between them, there was certainly some catching up to do.

(Bertram Windshadow) (( *dies* )) (Cravendy Hound) AWw NICE )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( A long-standing aversion to melons may have been planted that day. )) (Cravendy Hound) noo not melons )) (Aislinn North) ((And to this day, Bertram shudders at the sight of a Gyr Abania melon)) (Cravendy Hound) hehehehe )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( Indeed. Forever shall he associate the sweet, crispness of a melon with the shearing of a cat's claws! ))

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Aislinn North #Bertram Windshadow #my crops are growing my skin is clear #and its all thanks to this rp

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