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margindoodles2407 · 2 months

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OKAY OKAY SO I can't really find a way to end this BUT

I have been working on this fic for literal months. And I think I am finally able to share it with the world. It's still a work in progress, but I am happy with how it is turning out, I just have to finish the ending.

A few words before I get into it, and PLEASE read this carefully, because this fic does deal with some topics that may be sensitive for some readers.

Basically, it deals with how Paladin- Hyrule Warriors Link- got his facial scars. If you've ever seen a picture of him that I've drawn, you'll notice that the left side of his face is covered in scars.

Well, this is the idea I've had bouncing around for like. A year (oh my gosh have I been zelda obsessed for that long already?) and anyway here it is!

TRIGGER WARNINGS- Self Harm, Blood

It’s a silent summer night when he finally snaps.

It’s been weeks in the coming, silently encroaching upon him like a lizalfos stalking its prey. The knowledge that he is the cause of this war- he and his perfect handsome face. It’s been eating him up inside since that night in the Valley of Seers.

And now it’s everywhere.

The distrustful glares of his soldiers. The outright hateful ones of orphaned, widowed, dispossessed citizens.

Most of all, the cold, silent, expressionless gazes of the dead.

Hadrian died today. Hadrian, his best friend since childhood, his only remaining friend from before the war. One of the few who ever stood up for him when the other soldiers picked on him (in the early days) and when they dragged his name and his title through the mud (more recently). His only true defender.

And now he is gone.

He doesn’t remember unsheathing his knife- Hadrian’s gift, the only gift he’d gotten when he became Captain Link. All he knows is the blank, lifeless stare from the steel-blue eyes peering up at him from the reflection in the blade. He disgusts himself. He hates his face.

He hates his eyes. (The tears begin to fall.) His perfect, handsome eyes. And he hates the perfect handsome eyebrows that shade them. He hates his forehead, his cheekbones, his strong chin and flaxen hair. (Your fault your fault your fault) He hates his shoulders and his chest, his alabaster limbs and his strong, slender fingers. (His shoulder shake with anguished sobs and the only thought that registers is Your Fault He’s Dead)

But most of all he hates his face.

His perfect, handsome, horrible face.

The face that killed Hadrian.

And then the knife is flashing in the dark, gleaming steel slicing through the flawless skin of the face he hates so much. Scarlet blood and tormented tears mingle as they pour down off his face and stain his night shirt crimson. Every slash of the blade is more painful and bitingly cold than the last but he can’t stop. He can’t stop. He can’t stop--

He didn’t see the tent flap open and he didn’t hear the gasp of horror mixed with something like concern. The thing that brings him back is the sensation of warm firm hands wrenching the knife out of his grasp and hurling it across the tent. And then they cup his face and he looks up, and it’s her.

Because of course it is.

It’s dark and his tent has no windows, but even in the darkest caverns of the Pits of Demise, he’d be able to make out her face. It’s twisted, so horribly twisted, by sympathy and pain and anger not directed at him- never directed at him, only at what could possibly hurt him this much. Her hand cups the left side of his face- the side he ruined- to inspect the damage, and as she pulls it away to take a better look they both notice it’s absolutely stained with ruby-hued liquid.

What have you done, is what is etched into her face, but not in the accusatory tones of his men. No, her question is much softer, much gentler, not so much a demand as a petition.

He’s never had a proper conversation with her. He’s met her eyes a total of three times prior to this encounter. She’s his superior. She’s his Queen.

But she’s kneeling on the floor of his tent, and her hand is again resting on his mangled cheek, and all remaining decorum is completely tossed aside as he gives in to her touch and collapses into her arms.

Neither of them know how long they kneel there together, she stroking his hair as he weeps into her shoulder, his blood wrecking his shirt and her nightgown and seeping into both of their hair and getting all over their hands.

In the end, it doesn’t matter.

#hyrule warriors #margin writes #margin's links #I AM SO SORRY #I'M SO SO SORRY #I THINK I CRIED WHILE WRITING IT #you know what next sunday when i am back i'll have a nice fluffy fic to make up for it okay i promise i'll make it up to you #my beloved hyrule warriors

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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I'll take you way back (Trixya) Chapter 3 - Bramble

A/N: Again completely fiction inspired by history a bit like Kim and Trixie’s project in this fic. Thank you t anyone reading this, this is by far one of my favourite chapters I have ever written.

In this chapter Katherine is Katya and Beatrice is Trixie. A fluffy chapter to make up for the last one. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Tudor Britain

2017

Sunday came and Brian arrived at the museum an hour earlier than it opened. He hadn’t meant to be that early but he forgot it opened later than usual because it was a Sunday. He had managed to kill some time by eating an ice-cream bought from a the ice-cream truck at the bottom of the hill. But now for the last fifteen minutes until opening he was sat on the steps.

“That eager to learn today, Brian?” The brunette on the steps whipped his head up to meet eyes with the blonde man. The sun was shining on him and hitting off of his eyes and Brian found himself mesmerised. He looked good inside the museum but outside? He looked even better.

“I guess you could say that,” Brian let out a nervous chuckle.

“Taking it Kim didn’t like the whole depressing lesbian execution story?” Brian shrugged because it seemed better than saying no. He would maybe have to one day tell the truth but it wouldn’t be today.

“Third times a charm. It’ll be a nice romantic story with beautiful gowns to impress her then,” the blue eyed man laughed as he let his smile settle on his face. Fumbling with keys in his hand he placed on in the lock.

“I’ll see you when the museum is open to the public in,” Brian paused to check his watch. “10 minutes.”

Brian groaned once the man was without of ear shot and he was no longer smiling at him. He watched the man walk away dressed in bright colours. He did have an eye for strange fashion that was for sure.

Ten minutes later after a few texts from Kim asking if he wanted to meet and Brian was in the museum and about to head the same way as usual before he was grabbed by someone. “Not so fast there, tiger. Today’s exhibit is this way.”

Allowing himself to be dragged the right direction Brian tried to make some conversation. “No joke today?”

“What kind of hair do they seek at IHOP?” Brian shrugged waiting for the punch line. “Eggstensions.”

Brian had only heard it a few times but the blonde’s wheeze and flail he did when laughing was one of his favourite things. And he loved that he could help create it. The pair stopped in front of a large painting. Brian scanned it before letting out a breath. “She’s beautiful.”

There was no denying the woman in the painting was gorgeous. She had straw coloured hair carefully tied up and a stunning gown on. “She was wasn’t she? But do you want to know the best part of her story?”

“It had a happy ending.”

Wales, 1501

Tudor Britain seemed to be a rough time for a lot of people. But in Wales things couldn’t be going better. The people were well cared for and the nobles were kind folk. The relationship between royalty and commoners was well kept.

Everyone expect Katherine Zamo was happy. The princess had lived a life of luxury, full of nothing but love from her parents and people. But yet she was dull and unhappy, not letting out a laugh in years or a genuine smile. For months now the King and Queen had tried to find someone who would make their daughter laugh and for months they had failed.

Closing the doors to her quarters Katherine sighed heavily as she walked out to her balcony. The balcony of her room looked over the royal gardens and had many beautiful sights. A rustle from beneath caught her attention. Looking down at the gardens she saw a commoner walking among the flowers. While commoners were allowed within the garden walls, it was a rarity to see on here so late in the day.

Katherine watched as the commoner looked around before quickly plucking a single rose. Now Katherine was intrigued, commoners definitely weren’t supposed to pick the flowers.

“Might I ask what it is you think you’re doing?” Katherine called out to the flower thief in a calm tone. She couldn’t care less if her people picked flowers but she was curious as to why nobody had before.

“I apologise, m'lady. I only take the flowers to feed myself.” The thief replied honestly. “I get paid good money for pretty flowers.”

“A thief with a heart, how very peculiar,” the princess spoke. “What should I call you, thief?”

“You may call me a great many of things, but not my name.”

“And why is that?”

“I’d prefer to keep my head on my shoulders,” the thief giggled and Katherine instantly wanted to hear her do it again.

“You won’t loose you’re head, little thief. You are far too pretty to have that happen,” the princess watched as the corners of the thief’s lips twitch upwards.

“Then we shall call it a trade, I take the rose and you allow me to try and make you smile.”

“Many have tried, none succeeded.”

The thief nodded before walking over to the castle wall before calling up to the balcony. “No harm in trying. If you don’t mind, m'lady, I’d like to climb up.”

Katherine nodded as she watched the thief climb up the vines on the castle wall. When the thief got up to the top she stopped on the ledge of the balcony.

“You can come onto the balcony, you know.” Katherine joked.

“Nonsense, this way I’m still technically in the gardens and not in the castle. If I were to step over I’d be intruding.”

“So,now that you know I won’t have your head on a spike. May I know you’re name, little thief.” Katherine leaned on the balcony and observed the thief. Her blonde hair shone in the sun and her smile seemed to radiate happiness.

“Beatrice, m'lady.” Beatrice, Katherine thought to herself. She liked it, it suited her beauty.

“What is your joke then, Beatrice.” Beatrice loved the way her name sounded coming from the princess.

“You can not be Russian me, princess, a good joke takes time.” Beatrice beamed at the princess who allowed the corners of her lips to slightly twitch upwards.

“That was weak and you know it,” Katherine smiled as Beatrice bowed her head.

“I’m afraid, m'lady, I wasn’t in the right lane; but either way I’ll get run over by the carriage if I just sit there.”

Katherine shook her head as she stared forwards towards the sunset. A wide smile on her face. Already Beatrice, a lowly commoner thief, had made her happier than anyone had ever done in months. “You’re doing well, little thief, but not quite good enough.”

“I thought I wasn’t a thief so long as I tell you jokes. Or is it, m'lady, because I’m stealing your heart.” Beatrice jested.

“Wooing me will not gain you a laugh, Beatrice,” Katherine replied sighing.

“How do you make holy water?” The princess stared at her in disbelief. “You boil the hell out of it.”

Katherine stared at the girl who was now in fits of laughter at her own joke. Only someone like her could find humour in obscene language like that. Katherine merely smiled as she stared at Beatrice waiting for her to slow her laughter. When she did there was an odd sort of tension in the air between them. Both women couldn’t take their eyes off of the other.

The princess noticed the way Beatrice’s eyes flickered between hers and her lips and back. She became nervous for the first time in a long time. The were at close distance, closer than either intended to end up. Their foreheads met, barely any distance left between them.

“You could be killed,” Katherine spoke lowly, her breath tickling Beatrice’s lips.

“It would be a beautiful way to die,” Beatrice whispered before both of them leaned in. Their lips met in a slow but gentle kiss. The warmth of Beatrice’s touch spread like wildfire throughout Katherine’s body. Katherine brought a hand up to grasp at the back of Beatrice’s neck, pulling her in closer to deepen the kiss and to tug on her baby hairs. Beatrice reciprocated the action by pulling Katherine closer to the balcony fencing.

Pulling apart reluctantly, their foreheads rested against the other’s once again. Katherine opened her eyes to see Beatrice smiling at her, that goofy smile of hers. And in that moment Katherine knew who owned her heart. Also in that moment, she realised that she, a princess, had kissed a commoner. A thief, no less.

And she laughed.

She threw her head back and laughed, completely unrestrained and free. Katherine allowed the first laugh to escape through her lips in years to slip free.

2017

“And so because Beatrice made Katherine laugh, the King and Queen decided not to behead the flower thief, and in doing so allowed her to have their daughter’s hand in marriage.” Brian stared at the curator as he wrapped up his story. This one definitely had the previous two trumped for the top spot. The Viking one was cool no doubt but nothing could beat some classic romance in Brian’s heart.

“That was beautiful, I can see why you like working here now.” The blue-eyed man raised a brow at the other. “I mean, it’s so incredible all the stories that this place holds.”

The two men shared a smile as they both remained silent whilst admiring the painting hanging in front of them. “Do you like coffee?”

Brian scrunched his nose up as he shook his head. Coffee and him never mixed well together. The only time he would drink it was if he was pulling an all-nighter before finals. “Tea?”

Brian shook his head again. “I’m more of a hot chocolate kind of person.”

The brunette watched as Brian let out a small chuckle. “Well alright then, grandma, how about I take you out for a hot chocolate?”

Like a date, Brian thought but quickly shot that idea down. They didn’t even know each other, all they had spoken to each other about was history.

“I’m free next on Wednesday, does that fit to your history road trip schedule?”

In return Brian got a wide smile as a nod. “Perfectly, meet me here 10 am sharp.”

“Goodbye Brian.”

“See you soon, other Brian.”

#i'll take you way back #trixya #bramble #regeneration soulmate au #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #kim chi #history au #soulmate au #regeneration au #rpdr fanfiction #m/m au #lesbian au

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