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saintlethanavir · 3 years

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Inquisitor as a Companion: Updated

Inquisitor’s Name: Calliope Tarenan Lavellan

Alternate Name?: Calliope Tarenan Himanaris

Race, Class, & Specialization: Dalish Elf, two handed warrior, Reaver ; mage, necromancer (loyalty and/or romance dependant)

Varric’s Nickname for them: Shortstack

Default Tarot Card: Death (Upright: Endings, change, transformation, transition)

Loyalty Tarot Card: Judgement (Upright: absolution, rebirth, inner calling)

Romance Tarot Card: The Star (Upright: Hope, faith, purpose)

Hostile/Unloyal Tarot Card: Death ( Reversed: Resistance to change, personal transformation)

How they are recruited:

The Inquisitor will come upon a dalish elf loitering in front of the Chantry after completely the prologue. They’ve been trying to get the attention of any guard that walks by though most completely ignore them or say they’ll send word to the proper people. Upon the Inquisitor leaving the Chantry they call out in an annoyed tone to them, a definitive mix of an Irish and French accent.

If they’re an elf: “Will you not help a fellow elf, falon? Lot of people coming and going, ignoring my requests. Could you spare some time?

If they’re not an elf: “Would you kindly tell your people to stop pulling my leg? I need someone to actually help me and not completely ignore my requests. Think you can do that?”

At that point the Inquisitor can:

1. Apologize for the people before them not taking them seriously and ask what’s going on

2. Sigh heavily and commiserate, make a sarcastic comment about shemlen if Dalish, and ask what’s wrong

3. Tell them their tone is probably what put them off but if it helps them feel better they’ll do their best to help.

With any of these options, Calliope will say that a friend of theirs is being held in the Chantry on an assault charge. Their brother, Elessar, accidentally nabbed a templar in the shoulder while out in the woods surrounding Haven. The Templar is fine and they’d rather not let their friend rot down there. If you answered with Option 3. Calliope will be short with you, and you will start with a lower approval score.

The Inquisitor can then tell Calliope to move on or that they will release Elessar personally, and they either owe them and would like to speak to them, or that they just want to speak to them.

If the Inquisitor tells them to move on: Calliope will break into the Chantry and get their friend out. Later on in Skyhold there will be a chance to recruit them if you go down to visit a prisoner, both Elessar and Calliope were arrested for spying on the group as they settled into Skyhold. If you recruit both of them during this scene you will start out with the lowest approval you can obtain with them.

If the Inquisitor breaks Elessar out: Calliope will express their interest in repaying the Inquisitor or say that they want to repay their debt as quickly as possible so they can get back to their clan. You can either dismiss them at this point or take them on as a companion.

Where they are in Skyhold: In the reading nook Dorian stands in, usually sitting at a table and idly reading a book about dragons. You can also find them hacking apart training dummies near the tavern.

Things they Generally Approve of:

Sarcastic dialogue options

Supporting magic/mages

Supporting Elves

Criticism of the Chantry/Circle/Templars

Fighting Dragons

Being friendly towards spirits

Things they Generally Disapprove of:

Cruel/harsh criticisms of magic

Supporting the Chantry

Supporting the Circle/Templars

Criticism of Elves

Major decisions:

Greatly Approves Allying with the Mages

If in the party: “They have spent enough time in cages. Let them spread their wings, let them be free.”

If Inquisitor is an elf/mage: “Falon/Lethallen, you know just as I that magic can only be stunted under oppressive influence. Let them be free of their cages, it’s up to them what they do with their freedom.”

Back at Haven: “You did the right thing, never doubt that. They’ll be singing your praises tonight.”

Disapproves Conscripting the Mages

If in the party/Back at Haven: “You would have them trade one cage for another? Lovely.”

If the Inquisitor is an elf/mage: “I hope you release them eventually. A caged dog will bite the hand that feeds it.”

Greatly Disapproves of Allying with Templars:

If in party/Back at Haven: “You would trust a bunch of fools who believe they have a right to cage other people? That’s rich.

If the Inquisitor is an elf: “Fen’harel ma ghilana, garas quenathra. They will be the end of us all, da’len. May you learn from your mistakes.”

Slightly Approves of Conscripting the Templars:

If in party/Back at Haven: “At the very least they have to do what you say, no? I hope you know what you’re doing. “

Approves of letting the Wardens Stay

If in the party/Back at Skyhold: “The wardens have a chance to make up for what happened, thank you for giving them that chance. “

Slightly Disapproves of Exiling them

If in the party/Back at Skyhold: You didn’t exile the Fereldan Wardens did you? I wonder what will happen when the next Blight comes. I hope I’m not here to see it.

Greatly Disapproves Briala/Celene getting back together and/or Celene being on the throne/saved. Slightly Disapproves Gaspard ruling alone, and Approves of Briala puppeting Gaspard

If asked their opinion at the Winter Palace: “You should put Briala at the center and let the Empress die. She burned down the alienage, elves lost their families and lives. It was bad enough Halamshiral was taken from them once.”

If the Inquisitor is an elf: “I will help you end Empress Celene myself if it comes down to it. Briala is who I would choose. I hope you would as well.”

Greatly Approves Allying with the Ancient Elves and doing the Rituals

Disapproves Killing the Ancient Elves

Slightly Disapproves if a non elven Inquisitor or Morrigan drinks from the Well of Sorrows

Approves if an elven Inquisitor drinks from the Well of Sorrows

Any decision made to make a mage Tranquil will result in Calliope becoming hostile towards the Inquisitor and romance/loyalty is cut off

Friends in the Inquisition: Iron Bull, Dorian, Varric, Sera, Cole, Leliana, brief friendship/romance with Solas.

Romanceable?: Calliope is romanceable by male inquisitors of any race or class! Flirting is available the moment you get to Haven, though they are a lot more receptive to kind/non rival Inquisitors. A full romance is available after Here Lies the Abyss and if you continue to flirt with them, express interest in them. They will slowly reveal to you that they suffer from hallucinations (both auditory and visual) and have since they were a child, they have gotten worse since their magic appeared at the age of seven. Pressing on this matter the first time will result in them saying they don’t wish to speak more about it, but maybe in time they can tell the Inquisitor why they don’t just use their magic to alleviate some of their stress.

After Here Lies the Abyss the Inquisitor can approach Calliope about what the Nightmare said to them, as it called them Lethanavir. A non elven Inquisitor may be confused as to what that means or at least curious, but an elven Inquisitor knows that’s the title of Falon’Din. Calliope will of course explain if the Inquisitor is in need of it, but they’re just as confused as them about what that could mean for them specifically. They will joke about past lives and memory loss to lighten the mood, but will confide in the Inquisitor that what they hear in their hallucinations are the sounds of the dying. Last words and breaths. Their visual hallucinations come at times of high stress and will sometimes involve watching someone they know or don’t know die. Sometimes they become paranoid that the person is truly dead and has been replaced if it’s someone they know. They believed for some time that practicing their magic would alleviate some of these instances but it never has.

Though they don’t believe it’ll help much, an Inquisitor can either support them in building their magical talents or telling them it may not be worth it. If they support Calliope they will seek out the help of the Inner Circle Mages, and if Dorian is within the Inner Circle they will latch onto his teachings. It is also possible in the course of this romance to begin a polyamorous relationship with Calliope, Dorian, and the Iron Bull if the Inquisitor expresses interest in all three of them. It is also entirely possible for Calliope and the Inquisitor to engage in a polyam relationship with Solas, but eventually Calliope will break off the relationship with Solas for ‘personal differences’. This is also true if Calliope is not romanced and Solas isn’t pursued at first or not at all by the Inquisitor. Then if Dorian and Iron Bull are not Romanced, or if one or the other isn’t romanced, they will enter into a relationship with both or one of them.

You will get a dance scene in Halamshiral if you take Callie along with you, though the scene will go a little differently depending on what you’ve done so far in the game. If Here Lies the Abyss is done after Halamshiral you will not get a dance scene with Calliope but you will be able to flirt with them as per usual.

Upon finding them in the palace gardens sitting on the pool where you toss the coins:

Inquisitor: How are you finding the party? It must be nice to know what everyone is talking about.

Calliope: Ah yes, I love hearing about the various affairs of nobles and how they’ve been abusing their staff. At least the food is good, but I wouldn’t touch the ham no matter what Dorian says.

Inquisitor, flirting: Do you think you’ll have time for a dance later?

Calliope (if in a relationship already): Vhenan, I will be whisking you away to the dance floor no less than three times if I have my way.

(If not in a relationship yet): I think I can pencil you in for at least one. Though I will be leading, I hope that’s alright (laughs).

A romance will be locked in after Halamshiral or the completion of Here Lies the Abyss if Halamshiral was done first. They will meet the Inquisitor in their quarters and begin to show off what they’ve learned, commenting that their twin helped them perfect a barrier spell which they use on the Inquisitor. They will then share a tender moment and kiss, pushing the Inquisitor down on the bed. However, the Inquisitor can either choose to tell them they want to spend time with them but wish to not be physical, or they can continue that particular scene. Either way they’ll wake up the next morning with Calliope smiling at them and telling them they love them in Elven.

There is a repeatable kiss scene with Calliope in the Inquisitor's quarters as well as a tarot card change! They will go from a two handed warrior to a necromancer as well, though will still use a sword along with their magic. At the end of the game there will be a cut scene where Calliope follows the Inquisitor into their rooms, then sweeps them into a near crushing embrace.

Calliope: We survived, I cannot believe we survived.

Inquisitor: You sound so thrilled!

Calliope: (laughs) Asshole. You know what I mean. I am...just happy that we’re here together at the end of it all.

Fear: The Dark

What the Nightmare says to them: “Ah, Lethanavir. The Darkness will only consume you again, why do you struggle so? Wouldn’t it be better if you laid down and gave up?

Small side mission:

Whose Faithful Sing: Calliope has tasked you to help them give final rites to the Dalish elves who have helped the Inquisition but died in the process. Take their remains to the Emerald Graves, the Dales, and the Hinterlands to lay them to rest. (Grants Approval all three times).

This quest is given to you after unlocking the Emerald Graves on the War Table.

Companion quest:

In the Dark, All is Revealed: This quest is given to you when Calliope asks to see the Inquisitor post Halamshiral and romance scene (if you romanced them). There will be a cut scene where Calliope lets the Inquisitor know that their twin brother recently joined the Grey Wardens after the events of Here Lies the Abyss, citing that he wanted to actually do something for the world for once. While Calliope had their reservations about this, especially because of the false Calling, Elessar did this anyway though has not had his Joining yet. He was recruited into the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and went with them on an excursion to the Deep Roads to block off some darkspawn hordes only to get trapped in a cave in. Calliope wants your help to get Elessar out of this situation.

If Calliope hasn’t been romanced, and you are at low approval, and you tell them you can’t do this for them they will permanently leave the Inquisition. Refer to end card section for what happens post DAI and Trespasser. If you take this quest however keep reading!

Calliope and the Inquisitor will go to the Storm Coast where the cave in happened and search for Elessar. They encounter the main group made up of grey wardens and Legion of the Dead soldiers, who mention the Elessar was cut off from the main group with Carver Hawke (Bethany Hawke if Carver did not survive DA2, or an unnamed senior warden if either are unavailable). After fighting through a horde, Calliope mentions that they’re having trouble with seeing things and that there are voices in their head. A romanced Inquisitor can ask if they’re alright and they’ll just say that they’re fine, it’s nothing.

After another horde, there will be a cut scene where Calliope faints after they fell all the darkspawn. There’s a moment where the party freaks out only for Calliope to open their eyes wide and sharply inhale, with a two toned voice saying that there’s something big coming. And an ogre will show up! Their abilities will be slightly more erratic,either as a necromancer or a Reaver and halfway through the fight Carver (or whoever it was) will show up with Elessar. The twins begin to fight in sync and act much in the same manner until the ogre is felled and the Inquisitor can ask questions. The twins will reveal that they are Falon’Din and Dirthamen, a revelation to both of them, as the gods needed time to reveal and dedicate themselves to the cause. They explain that they are inhabiting the bodies of the twins not unlike how the Old God soul is inhabiting Keiran (if he was the result of the Dark Ritual. If he was not born they will liken it to being reincarnation. All references to being an abomination are met with scorn. They will then ascend to the surface after the gods release their holds, and the Inquisitor can interrogate the twins. Both mention they had no idea what was going on and will need some time to process, but they promise they’ll keep the Inquisitor posted. If they’re not elven they will also explain who the gods are.

Once back at Skyhold a cutscene will trigger with Calliope asking to talk to the Inquisitor in their quarters. They’ll reveal that they’ve talked to Falon’Din, or what they believe is Falon’Din, and that while things are still murky they’re grateful for the Inquisitor helping them and their twin brother. If the Inquisitor is romanced, Calliope will mention that they understand if the Inquisitor is no longer interested, but the Inquisitor can reassure them that they still are and this doesn’t change who Calliope is as a person.

End Cards/Trespasser:

If loyal to the Inquisitor: ‘Calliope promised to stay at the Inquisitors side, as a bodyguard and friend. The Tarenan Clan are steadfast allies to the Inquisition, who hopes this will finally be a step towards peace for the Dalish.’

If romanced: ‘The Inquisitor and their paramour, the Lethanavir made quite the ripple amongst Chantry officials when they announced their partnership. Maker help anyone who should stand against them. Though some still grumble about and supposed elven god being in love with the Herald of Andraste.’

If they left the Inquistion: ‘Not much is known about what happened to Lavellan/Himanaris, though some say they’ve spotted the elf in the Emerald Graves. Though it was only ever for a moment. They left behind whispers of death and revenge, so the soldiers say.’

Trespasser: ‘They found traces of Lavellan/Himanaris between a section of Crossroads where it seems they have amassed quite the following. Dalish elves flock towards rumors of the reincarnation of Falon’Din and Dirthamen, but whether or not those rumors can be trusted is yet to be seen.’

If romanced: ‘What transpired at the Council leaves many questions for Calliope, but they know they will always have their Inquisitor close at hand. Come what may they will not let the growing threat of Fen’Harel and his plans overshadow theirs. There are fewer grumbles from the Chantry about their relationship with the Inquisitor, but the fires have been stoked once more after Calliope proposed. What will come for them next, its anyone’s guess.’

If loyal to the Inquisitor: ‘Promises to the Inquisition were made and they will be kept. Plans have come to fruition between Dorian and the Lethanavir, scouring the lands for any trace of Fen’harel and his spies (if Dorian is not romanced). Rumors have spread that the Magister may have even taken on Calliope as his paramour. The Magisterium has certain words for the pair, but they always fall on deaf ears.

#dragon age #calliope lavellan #this is a long one folks lmao

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banrionceallach · 4 years

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Reverse AU Crowley/Harry Omens Short

This will only make sense if you’ve read both my main fic and my scraps on AO3. Posting it anyway.

Raphael is still here.

He is still here and he keeps smiling at Aziraphale all the time.

Aziraphale keeps smiling back.

Crowley hates it.

He is not jealous, he tells himself, as he watches Raphael sit on a couch in the back of the bookshop. Raphael is currently pouring over an arcane text that Aziraphale thinks might solve the ‘angel from an alternate universe’ problem.

Crowley has known Aziraphale for six thousand years. He has argued and dined with and gotten drunk with the angel innumerable times. They’re best friends. Aziraphale walked into hell for him and sassed Michael into the bargain. He knows Aziraphale loves him. They are raising (another) child together, for Someone’s sake. Some alternate universe angel is not going to change that.

Even if he is basically a better version of Crowley.

Stupid angelic tosser. With his stupid round pupils and his stupid white wings and his stupid long braided hair that Aziraphale spent a whole minute complimenting after lunch.

( It is just possible that Crowley is trying to grow his hair out as quickly and discreetly as possible.)

Currently Crowley is alone with the Archangel Bloody Raphael, because the aforementioned child that Crowley and his angel are raising together had a sleepover with the former antichrist and Aziraphale has gone to Tadfield to pick him up and also consult the local witch on their Alternate Universe Angel problem. Normally picking up Harry from a friend’s house is something Crowley does in the Bentley, but today the knowledge that that would have left Aziraphale alone with Raphael for over an hour had made him strongly suggest that Aziraphale should go, and use the opportunity to consult the witch.

Crowley really hopes Book Girl has something. He doesn’t know how much more of the archangel’s presence he can take without jumping across the room and trying to claw his stupid perfect eyes out.

He notices the other red-head has put down his book and is looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“What are you looking at?” he demands.

Raphael shrugs innocently. “I was just surprised you didn’t go to Tadfield instead of Aziraphale.” He waves a hand at the piles of esoteric text cluttered around the room. “It would have been more efficient for you to bring Anathema here while we continued to research, wouldn’t it?”

“Leaving Aziraphale alone with you?” Crowley snaps, with rather more honesty than he prefers. “Not likely!”

Raphael arches a fine auburn eyebrow. “Are you always this possessive?” he asks and damn him, there is actual genuine concern in his tone. Who is he to be concerned about Aziraphale? He has his own version, yes? That he should be wanting to get back to? A tiny part of Crowley still doubts that. He can’t imagine a demon Aziraphale, can’t imagine Aziraphale Falling.

It hurts to think about.

“Possessive?” Crowley sputters, wrenching his mind away from the possibility of a horrified spiral into guilt. “I am not!”

And the thing is, he isn’t. Not usually. But of course, it occurs to him, it’s been rather easy to not be possessive when he can be safe in the knowledge that no one else on the planet has a hope of competing for Aziraphale’s affection. Not humans, not other demons, definitely not other angels.

Except now, there is another angel. An angel who never fell, still bathing in Her favour. With Crowley’s face. And, key point, without the more demonic attributes caused by the Fall.

He is polite and gentle and exudes a puppy-like bouncy enthusiasm and he keeps smiling at Aziraphale and Crowley hates everything about him.

“Really?”

“Really,” Crowley snaps back, baring his fangs. “I am concerned for his safety. For all I know, this could still be some trick by Above and Below to attack us. You could be in on it.”

“You really are very suspicious, aren’t you?” Raphael says, grinning like Crowley has just said something amusing.

“Demon,” Crowley snaps. “Goes with the job description. Suspicious, sly, evil demon.” He notes with satisfaction that his blunt reference to his status makes Raphael go pale and twitch slightly. Good.

“You’re not that demonic,” Raphael says softly after a moment, giving him a considering look. “I think Azirafell is worse. Better, I mean. At demoning.”

This is too much.

Crowley snarls and surges to his feet. “I,” he hisses, “am the Serpent in the Garden. The Fall of Man? Humanity exiled from Eden never to return? That was me. For six-thousand years I was Hell’s favourite demon. Don’t go thinking I am soft!”

Of course, it’s at this moment that Harry runs into the room, having just got back from Tadfield. “Dad! Dad! Is it true?”

Crowley draws his fangs back in so fast there’s an almost audible click. “Is what true?”

Harry is about to reply when he spots Raphael. Raphael stares at him, wide-eyed. Harry stares back, fascinated.

“Wow,” the nearly-thirteen-year-old breathes. “You really do look just like Dad! Weird!” Then Harry frowns. “Why don’t you have the cool eyes, though?”

Crowley flips from cursing Harry’s sense of timing to grinning widely. He and his angel have the Best Son. Objectively. It is fact.

Raphael makes a strangled noise. “Dad?” he manages to wheeze, still staring at Harry.

They had not mentioned Harry up until now as a precaution. Just in case Raphael was part of a plot against them. Watching Raphael almost choke in shock, Crowley is extra glad they’d not mentioned the young wizard.

He still has to squash the urge to snap ‘yes, this is our son’ in his most smug tone of voice. Crowley loves Harry and is not under any circumstances going to use him to score against the annoying stupid archangel who will be punted back to his own universe as soon as possible.

So instead he just waves, wiggling his fingers insouciantly at the Archangel. “That’s me.”

(It’s also Aziraphale, as well as James Potter, sadly deceased. People who start talking to Harry when he mentions his father soon learn to be alert for context clues.)

Raphael coughs, clearing his throat. “You’ve . . . adopted a child?” he says weakly.

“That’s right,” beams Aziraphale, who has just walked into the room behind Harry.

“Stole,” Crowley corrects. “We stole him. Evil, remember.”

“More like rescued,” says Harry, the little traitor. Raphael gives him a watery smile.

It turns out that (to Crowley’s great relief) Aziraphale has brought back a way to get Raphael home. Unfortunately, the ritual to do it takes hours to set up.

Raphael spends most of that time trying not to stare at Harry. He doesn’t really succeed.

Eventually, since they are now guaranteed to be archangel-free very soon, Crowley grudgingly explains how Harry came to be living with them.

Raphael is appalled.

“What do you mean, this headmaster knew and just left him with those people for ten years?” he hisses, his golden eyes narrow with outrage.

“He’d convinced himself that the blood ward was the only resort,” Aziraphale explains.

“Bullshit,” snaps Raphael and for a second Crowley almost likes him.

“Quite,” Aziraphale says. “We were less than happy with the state of affairs ourselves.”

“No kidding,” the archangel mutters. Right,” he says decisively. “Is that circle ready to get me home? I need to take a quick trip to Surrey. Just to check on something.”

It is possible, Crowley thinks, as Raphael steps into the circle and disappears in a flash, that the archangel will find that there is no alternate Harry. Or perhaps there’s no alternate Voldemort. Or Dumbledore. Who knows?

***

Harry Potter, aged almost thirteen, ran from Number 4 Privet Drive, his suitcase and his owl’s travelling cage thumping beside him. His could feel his heart jumping in his chest. He had never been so angry in his life. Why had he listened to Aunt Marge? Why hadn’t he done the smart thing and excused himself to the loo when she’d started to talk?

What was he going to do now?

A noise and sudden light, caught his attention. It was a car, approaching fast. When it reached Harry, it skidded to a stop. He backed away, fumbling for his wand.

Then the passenger’s window rolled down, and a man’s head emerged. “Hello,” the man said in a cheerful voice. “Harry, isn’t it?”

Harry gasped and backed away further.

“Look,” said the man, “I don’t normally get involved in these things, but my friend here” – he waved vaguely towards the driver, a man with long waves of red hair- “seems to think you need help.” The man squinted at Harry. “And from the looks of it, he’s right.”

An enraged roar, familiar to Harry, echoed out of the night.

Uncle Vernon, furious and getting closer.

“Alright,” said the driver, speaking for the first time, “that’s enough of that.”

Harry heard the sound of clicking fingers and suddenly found himself in the car’s back seat with Hedwig’s cage next to him. His seatbelt had already fastened itself. The big black dog, which he’d almost tripped over earlier, was sitting on the car floor and looking extremely puzzled.

“Really dear,” said the man in the passenger seat to the driver as the car sped off, Vernon Dursley’s furious shouts receding into the distance “Did you have to bring the dog too?”

“Yep. He’s a good dog.”

Harry swallowed and finally managed to speak. “People will come looking for me,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

The man in the passenger seat smiled at him. “Well I do hope so, my boy.” He nodded towards his friend. “Raf here is quite keen to give Albus Dumbledore a piece of his mind.”

#Good Omens #Harry Potter #Reverse Omens #Crossover crossover #because it makes me happy

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rextasywrites · 3 years

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Grab a bite (Lady Dimitrescu x f!Reader)

Hello! This is my first smut fic here on Tumblr. Please enjoy, I tried my very best <3 mostly smut with a hint of plot, maybe i can expand this idea??? have fun!

Warning: period blood kink! smut! don’t like don’t read please!

Find this fic on AO3

The days in the castle hadn’t been pleasant to you...to say it in a mild way. The three vampire chicks had thrown you into the basement, up to rot along your mates. The first one to go was Mike. He had suffered from a cold before you headed into the mysterious village, and his cold soon turned into pneumonia. There wasn’t anything you could do for him apart from making sure he was as comfortable as he could be.

The next one to go was Jasmin. In the cells you three (and a corpse) shared were quite a few rusty nails and she had the misfortune of stepping on one. Sepsis took her in less than 24 hours.

Just a few hours ago, it was James who perished. The food given to you by the vampires was barely edible.. for humans. While you suffered from stomach aches quite a lot, James had a bigger problem. His food allergies were through the roof, and a simple dish with some nuts in it was his last meal on death row. You tried to make a tracheotomy, you really did.

The vampires kept you in the cage for just a little bit longer. The bodies were taken away by them, but you had no chance of escaping. As you laid on the uncomfortable bed that kind of resembled a murphy bed, your mind went to everything you had left behind. Your family, your friends. All of this for a stupid job and “exploring Romania”. Fuck this shit. Were they looking for you? Were they missing you?

Your stomach churned at all the anxieties creeping up your throat, making you choke back whatever was trying to come back up. But that wasn’t the only weird feeling in your stomach. While you didn’t know how long you had actually been in this hellhole, you knew your birth control ran out several days ago, and now your body was keen on getting its hormone household back into place.

As if your uterus called her, one of the vampire ladies stood in front of the cell you were locked in, licking over her lips. You couldn’t tell if the darkness of her lips was from lipstick or the fact that she was a half dead monster. “Lady Dimitrescu awaits you.”, the lady said and unlocked the cage. When you first stood up, you had to press your hand against your stomach, feeling how the cramps were slowly getting worse inside of you. The lady just watched with raised eyebrows - do vampires even get periods?

She led you through the impressive castle, and you wondered when someone cleaned in here for the last time, spiderwebs and dust were settled on nearly every surface. But boy, if it wasn’t impressive. Bigger than anything you had ever seen in your life. This sentence also was fitting for Lady Dimitrescu, who was sitting on her luxurious bed, covers of satin under her impressive...body.

“My dear, I knew you would make it alive out of there!”, she gave you her biggest smile, and when she stood up...Jesus, she was taller than anyone you had ever seen, easily reaching 2,5 meters. Absolutely supernatural. But the thing which caught your eyes the most were her huge breasts. They were right at eye height for you, and being killed by massive tits seemed like the most pleasant death in this place. Well, at least better than dying because of a rusty nail.

Lady Dimitrescu cupped your cheeks, feeling how the past few days had made you visibly lose weight already. “Oh my...if you want to survive the ritual, we have to nourish you. Daniela, please, get us some of the wine. I wouldn’t want my daughter to starve, would I?”

Daniela came back with a bottle of the wine Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, pouring it into two glasses before handing you one, the other one to her...mentor? Mother? You didn’t know. Lady Dimitrescu made your two glasses click together and took a sip off the exclusive fluid, smiling as it made its way to her stomach. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. A strong taste of dry wine, but the aftertaste was slightly metallic. “You know you are allowed to speak with me.”, Lady Dimitrescu said as she put her glass on the nightstand, which had looked hilariously small in her hands. “You are part of the family now, dear. There is nothing to hide.”

“Why me?”, was everything you managed out. Daniela had left the room by now, but that didn’t help to lessen your anxiety.

Lady Dimitrescu chuckled and took your hand into hers, giving you the gentlest smile a vampire demon whatever the fuck she was could give. “Because you are special. The first moment my daughters spotted you in the village, I knew you’d come here. I knew you’d make it out of there alive. And now, I will prepare you for the ritual.”

“What kind of ritual?”, the questions were clouding your mind. The last ritual you heard of was from Midsommar, and you had no interest in being burnt alive! As your hands started to shake, Lady Dimitrescu tightened her grip on them.

“I will make you one of us. But first, you have to show me you can handle this life. That you can handle…”, she got closer to your ear as she whispered into it, “my needs.” Her needs?

Lady Dimitrescu took the glass from your hands, putting it next to hers. Once her hands were free she placed them on your shoulders, pushing you down into the satin covers of her bed, and once you hit the sheets, your eyes felt so heavy. “Don’t fall asleep little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu shooed, tapping her long fingers against your skin.

“We would have started this sooner, but sadly”, Lady Dimitrescu gestured to your pants, “you have used this pill which stopped your period. And I need a good taste of you before we can continue.” What? A good taste?

“I thought vampires drink blood!”, you bursted out, cupping your mouth once your brain realized what you just said.

Lady Dimitrescu laughed loudly, giving your thigh a little pat. “Oh, we do, little dove. But I need to taste your innocence.” Your innocence… Her words flew around your brain while her fingers touched your bare skin from the holes in your pants. The bucket of water and the washing cloth might have helped you with feeling filthy, but it didn’t help with any ripped clothes. “It won’t hurt, I promise you. And once you have passed this test, you will be one of us in no time.”

“...Okay?”

“Good to hear that you agree with me, little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu smiled, and her next move shook you to the bone. Out of the fingers of her right hand came claws, something straight out of a Wolverine movie! You froze in shock as she came closer, but instead of hurting you, all she did was slowly ripping the fabric of your clothes - or better said, what was left of them. She hummed at the sight under her, while your face became hotter and hotter. “Do not worry, dove. You will get new costumes when I am done with you. We will burn this trash you called clothes. Cheap trash.”

Soon you were left in your undergarments, Lady Dimitrescu eyeing you up and down as if you were a piece of meat, ready for the predator to rip into its prey. And it wasn’t that wrong of a thought. In the end, you were at her mercy, but slowly her soft touch made you feel warm on the inside, spreading from your stomach, reaching all the way to your fingers and toes, a warmth you hadn’t felt in days. Was it the wine? Or was it something else?

Lady Dimitrescu smelt old. But not an unpleasant old smelt, not this smell from nursing homes, where the rotten flesh melted into the seats of the wheelchairs. The smell of old books and knowledge, aged like the fine wine she had just given you.

As your mind was clouded, Lady Dimitrescu continued to undress you. Your period had started by now, and a single drop of your blood fell on the satin covers under your ass. She chuckled, dipping her finger into the blood, licking it clean. “Have you ever laid with a man before, my dove?”, Lady Dimitrescu asked, to which you were ripped out of your thoughts, your reply a simple nod. You didn’t trust your voice anymore. “That’s good. You are pure. You are innocent. Just perfect for my daughters and me. Oh little dove, we are going to have so much fun together!”, Lady Dimitrescu laughed as she clapped her hands together, giving you her widest smile - and for a moment you could spot her fangs. What a weird turn on all of this was.

Once her finger was clean, a hunger formed inside of her. Your blood...it tasted so good, so fresh, so healthy. Unlike anything she had eaten in the past 500 years - and she fucking wanted more. “Come here, little dove. Spread your legs for the Lady.”, she said as she grabbed hold of your hips, pulling your middle closer. The claws on her right hand had gone back into her skin, and at this point, you didn’t even want to ask why. At this point, all you needed was her.

Lady Dimitrescu settled between your legs, “Let’s make this a pleasant experience for the both of us, shall we?”, she smiled as she pulled down her dress, exposing her big breasts. “I noticed your stares.”, and by the gods, they were everything you ever wanted and needed. Big, her dress had held them up, it must have been painful to her. They were saggy, but who didn’t appreciate a great pair of tits? You reached upward, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh as she chuckled. Lady Dimitrescu placed her hand on yours, letting you feel her up as you desired.

“Come on, little dove”, she smiled after some groping from your side. She couldn’t deny, your eager massages on her breasts had left her wet and ready, but she had to prepare you. Maybe once she managed to spill a sweet orgasm from your lips, maybe then she would engage in some self centered pleasure. But right now, you were her main focus.

Her fingers dipped a finger between your folds, scooping up your wetness mixed with blood. Lady Dimitrescu hummed in delight as she sucked her fingers clean, happiness clearly evident as she savoured the taste on her tongue. “You want to try it too?”, you shook your head in response, to which she laughed, “Oh, you will appreciate blood soon enough, little dove!”

You couldn’t gasp when Lady Dimitrescu grabbed your hips, pulling you up against her mouth. With your legs wrapped around her shoulders, she had your pussy right in her face, taking in the sweet smell of your arousal and the metallic undertone of blood. Just how she liked it. Just how she imagined it. “Oh, having to wait for you for so many days was terrible, little dove. But now, you are mine.”, she whispered as she dove her head between your thighs, taking in more and more of you. The moment her tongue hit your folds, a loud gasp escaped your throat, surely the vampires outside of the room would hear you. Lady Dimitrescu just chuckled against your wetness, flicking her tongue over your clit as the sweet taste of your wetness spread all across her mouth.

Her tongue was in the same proportion as her body, longer and thicker than anything you had ever seen before - or felt before. She slurped up whatever fluid she could reach, humming in delight whenever blood found its way into her mouth. The blood of a healthy and innocent virgin had been her favourite kind for so long, so hard to come by and the resulting fullness lasting for even longer. Maybe she wouldn’t turn you and keep you as her little to-go human. But where would be the fun in that?

As much as you wished she’d use her fingers too, it was like Lady Dimitrescu was reading your mind. “No penetration for you, little dove. You need to stay pure, untouched.”, but eating your pussy out was fine? Well, you had to play by her rules, not yours. You relaxed further in her grip as Lady Dimitrescu refreshed herself on you, feeling hundreds of years younger.

Your orgasm came crashing down on you, unexpected but with a force you had never felt before. While you groaned and trashed under Lady Dimitrescu’s grip, she kept her lips on your pussy, taking in all the juices she could get her mouth on, the hint of blood making her moan in delight.

The next thing you know is that the pain in your abdomen had stopped and Lady Dimitrescu had put clothes on your. You rubbed your eyes, blinking as you made sense of what had happened while you were out. The clothes on your body were dark and silky, just like the dress of Daniela before. The hunger inside of you was burning your stomach down, but it wasn’t just a simple hunger.

You were lusting for blood. Well, time to find Lady Dimitrescu and tell her about the little changes in your body...

#resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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sea monster indruck nsfw? maybe including one of them masturbating while fantasizing about the other one and confessing all their dirty thoughts as they're actually having sex? scary protective monster is also always hot if you're down for that

Here you go! I wasn’t able to fit in everything, but this one was fun!

This is all the hangman's fault.

Indrid could be pleasantly dead right now, not trapped in a gibbet on a clifftop, if the man had bothered to check his ropes ahead of time. But no, instead he failed to see the rats had been gnawing on them and the blasted noose snapped clean off the instant it took Indrids weight. To the villagers, this was a sign that Indrid was indeed a witch (and the son of a demon, a rare charge that drags his poor, deceased mother into this mess). To Indrid, it meant a new set of bruises and the worst possible death.

They locked him in the gibbet, the Atlantic crashing in angry, grey waves far below them. The man on his right is dead, eyeballs already plucked out by an enterprising bird, and the man on his left is getting there. If his visions are accurate, Indrid has a good five days of suffering the elements, the wild-life, and his own hunger and thirst before he joins them.

A lifetime of visions breeds resignation in the face of fate, so he closes his eyes, follows the futures of luckier men as a temporary escape. The screams of his neighbor rouse him with a start. Their source is wholly unexpected.

Looming at the edge of the cliff is an immense monster. From his vantage point, Indrid spies the creatures’ lower body still submerged in the sea, making it well over a hundred feet tall. It’s skin is green, it’s fingers webbed, and it’s crowned by a frill of wave-shaped spikes. The face is humanoid, with green eyes and hair of black water and a squid-beak where a mouth should be. Strange tentacles appear and disappear along its torso, as if they have not made up their mind as to whether they wish to exist.

The monster sighs, “Fuckin hate it when they leave their dead like this. Unsightly, and I ain’t sure it’s good for the seagulls to be eatin humans.”

“The dead and, ah, almost dead do not enjoy it much either.”

Upon hearing Indrids voice, the creature peers into his cage, “Huh, guess you ain’t dead. Either of you.” He turns his eyes on the other condemned man, who starts screaming again, “why’d they stick you here?”

“Witchcraft, specifically foresight and dabbling in ‘black magic.’ Well, that and a failed hanging” He tilts his head to show the visitor the rope mark.

“Damn, that looks like it hurts. Wonder if I can..” the tip of an immense claw extends towards him. There’s a crackle of power that makes his ears pop, and the monster pulls his hand back, “nope, fuck, was hopin it’d be a small enough thing to do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The monster sighs, “Long story short, my kind ain’t able to interact in an, uh, altruistic fashion with humans unless they’re acolytes. Can’t even open that damn cage without gettin zapped. Never mind that some of us don’t even wanna be old gods or whatever the fuck, still ain’t allowed to help. Maybe if I get a real big stick..”

“How does one become an acolyte?” Indrid presses his face to the front of the cage.

“Uh, you gotta swear loyalty and servitude to me, specifically, and the ‘old gods’ in general, live in a place I set up for you, and do stuff when I need you to.”

“Very well, are there specific words of the oath or…”

“Whoah, hold up now” the creature raises his hands, “this shit is real bindin’, rather you not rush into it.”

“Given the alternative is death, a rush is rather necessary.”

“All I’m sayin is you might wanna think for more than two seconds before you agree! And there might be other ways for me to get you out.”

“Do..do you not want an acolyte?” Being rejected by a sea monster feels like a fitting end to his life.

“Not really. It ain’t personal or anythin; I’m just now leanin into the whole god thing and I still ain’t all that comfortable with parts if it. Last thing I want is an acolyte who saw me as ‘not as bad as death.”

“And the last thing I want is to die of exposure, so we are at an impasse.”

The monster clicks his beak once, “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. You take until sunset to think over whether you wanna be stuck servin’ this” he gestures to himself, “for a long-ass time, and we’ll go from there.”

“Very well.” Indrid resigns himself to several more hours of misery as the creature sinks from view. He glances at the other prisoner, “what do you think? He seems very considerate for a sea monster and I for one would like to keep living.”

The man stares, babbles incoherently for a moment before shouting, “You, you conversed with a devil! You are a witch, just as they say!”

“He spoke to both of us.” Indrid blinks, puzzled.

“I closed my ears to his lies, you offered yourself to his wickedness! Speak no more to me from your black tongue.”

“Hmmph” Indrid does his best to ignore the ongoing beration. He’s not sure the creature is a god, but then again the creature seems uncertain on the matter himself. Serving a maybe-god seems no worse than serving the king, a life among the depths no less tolerable than his small home in a town torn to pieces by accusations of witchcraft.

After a time, the storm clouds fulfill their purpose, a downpour battering him from all angles. Then a shadow falls over his shut eyes, and no more rain touches him.

“Seemed awful rude to leave you stuck in the rain while you thought things over.” The god explains, one massive hand shielding the human.

“Many thanks. Ah, I do have one concern about being your acolyte. Would...would I have to hurt anyone?”

“Don’t think so. I ain’t fond of hurtin folks, and if someone did need to be hurt, seems real strange to make the tiny human do it.”

Indrid puts on his most hopeful, charming smile, “I am very cold, very hungry, and my whole being feels as though it’s been stomped on by a team of horses. Perhaps I could give my answer early?”

A chuckle, like bubbles in deep water, “Hard to say no to that face. Okay, you got a deal. I checked with Joe while I was gone, to make sure I knew the right thing to do if you said yes. I’m gonna say the oath, and you’re gonna repeat it.”

Indrid nods, makes his way laboriously through the incantation in a gurgling language he does not know. The god patiently guides him along, cracks open the cage when the last word is spoken.

“Do I get to know your name? If it was one of those words, it will take me some time to master it.”

The monsters’ cheeks rise, suggesting a smile, “You can call me Duck. It’s a nickname. C’mon” he holds out his hand, “let’s get you outta the rain.”

“One moment.” Indrid moves to the other gibbet, undoing the lock, “you can get free if you wish. If anyone asks how, tell them it was the witch.” With that, he settles in Duck’s cupped palms, the skin smooth and cool to the touch.

“Down we go.” Duck sinks.

“Wait, how will I bre-” water fills his mouth, but only for a moment. A clear bubble forms around him, let’s him gulp in air as Duck dives further into the sea. More jarring than the spell is the sight of the monster unfurling behind him. He assumed Duck had legs, but instead his lower body is that of a sea-serpent, green with bronze rings and undulating in the dark waves.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes” he wonders what touching that tail is like.

“Yeah, this is a real beautiful part of the sea. If you want, some time I can take you further out; some spectacular lookin creatures out there. Here we go, home sweet home.” They surface at the base of a much shorter cliff, Indrid woozy from the change in depth. Three cottages--one red, one gold, and one blue-- stare back at them from a grassy hill.

“Let’s see if I can do this” Duck sets Indrid on the ground, closes his eyes, and hums. The world shudders and splits, and then a fourth, emerald green cottage sits alongside the others.

“Ha! Pretty damn good for a first effort.” His frill flickers with silver light.

“It’s wonderful.”

“All yours. You get yourself settled, I'm gonna go find out from the others what else needs doin’ now that I got an acolyte.” He lowers himself so the two of them are roughly face to face, “see you soon, Indrid.”

--------------------------------------

The cottage holds more possessions than Indrid’s ever had in his life, including a large feather bed that he stretches his aching body across before falling asleep and dreaming of seaweed twining up his legs.

Voices from the window rouse him some hours later. At the side of the red cottage sit three other humans, two of whom are at work in a vegetable garden. Indrid ventures down to introduce himself.

“Hi!” One, a woman with golden hair, waves to him, “you must be Indrid. I’m Dani, this is Barclay” she points to the bearded man harvesting potatoes, then to a tattooed man polishing a pile of gold and silver jewelry, “and that’s Boyd.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are all acolytes as well?” His stomach rumbles and Barclay pauses his digging to slide him a basket containing bread and cheese.

“Help yourself, those are leftover from lunch. And yeah, we are. Or were, in Dani’s case.”

Even with foresight, Indrid is surprised when the woman says jokingly, “Got promoted to ‘wife’ a few months.”

“Congratulations.” It seems the appropriate thing to say, given her smile, “ah, what exactly do you all do for your gods? Duck is rather unclear on the details.”

“Some of it is spellwork. Beings like Duck have some innate power, but they can get more of it from an acolyte doing rituals or making offerings. Joseph, that’s my monster, Duck, and a few others aren’t sold on the idea that they’re meant to destroy humans, so they spend a lot of time keeping other monsters from doing just that. Our spellwork gives them an edge. Other than that, it really depends on who you’re working for; I spent a lot of my first month helping Joseph understand that hauling himself up onto a random dock to ask questions is not the best way to learn about humans. Boyd spends a lot of time maintaining Ned’s treasure.”

“Only because he bloody tricked me into workin for him. Just bidin my time until the deal runs out. You hear that Chicane!” Boyd yells towards the water, “don’t care how much you steal, I’ll get my share and run one of these days.”

To Indrid’s ear, the sea laughs in reply. Boyd grumbles and returns to his work.

“He’s just annoyed because he and Ned thought they could outwit each other; Boyd was on a prison ship bound for Jamaica and Ned offered him an out. Apparently they spent hours haggling over the terms.” Dani leans closer, whispers, “Boyds left twice, comes back every time saying he’s bored without someone to challenge him.”

They talk a while longer, Dani promising to bring Indrid some hens and a goat from town, Boyd giving him some firewood, and Barclay explaining the network of sea caves in the surrounding hills. When there’s a knock at the door, he opens it expecting another human and jumps when this is not the case.

“Evenin’” Duck smiles as he slithers into the house, “brought you a few more things.”

“You got smaller.”

“Can change my size some, though this is about as small as I can get.” He’s still two heads taller than Indrid, who notes that the ceilings are just high enough to accommodate him, as if the god built the cottage with visits in mind.

Duck sets a bucket of fresh oysters in the kitchen along with a large slab of butter, some milk, and some sugar, “Had one of my human friends bring me these. And, uh, I made you this” he holds up a cloak in the same colors as his tail. It fits Indrid snugly, shutting out the chilly air and making him feel rather grand indeed.

“C’mere” Duck pats a kitchen chair, “lemme take care of your neck.”

Indrid sits, shudders when webbing and claws rub sticky balm into his skin. The gods hands easily encircle his neck, a realization that stirs heat deep in his stomach. Duck talks as he works, a meandering story about a shipwreck, and Indrid finds he enjoys his manner of speech. The initial discomfort of the touches subside, the balm washing the pain in his neck away like a wave erasing a message in the sand. Cool hands wrapped around his throat turn as comforting as the fire crackling in the stove.

“That looks like it healed. Good” Duck’s beak fondly nips his ear, “gotta make sure my servant is in good condition.”

“Mmmm” Indrid bumps his chest with his head, hoping for more; tomorrow he’ll ask the others if it’s commonplace for an acolyte to lounge in the coils of their gods lap like a housecat.

The beak touches his ear once more, biting it lightly with little kissing sounds.

“Huh'' two tentacles catch Indrid as he tips sideways, his body deciding that the earlier nap was not enough rest, “didn’t think you’d find that soothin. Did it by accident, it’s how my kind show affection.”

“S’very nice” Indrid mumbles, dimly aware of being carried.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Y’know, in case I need to reward you for somethin.” Duck lays him in bed, pulls a thick blanket over him, and bids him goodnight. Indrid is sound asleep before the door closes.

------------------------------------

“Ngahka miskato--ah! Give that back” Indrid wrenches his spectacles free from hold of a far too inquisitive octopus. The creature squirts him with water, then disappears back into its pool.

Each of the gods has a sea cave in which their acolytes perform their rituals. Since the processes involves ancient, dark magic, all manner of strange sea life makes its way to the caves. Some, like the octopus or the seals that bob in the distance or flop on the rocks to nap, are known to him. Others might be classified as indescribable horrors from the deep, though Indrid thinks they look like crustaceans with a few too many limbs or the offspring of an eel and devil fish.

His oath to Duck allows him to read the spells, and his pronunciation is improving. Duck’s requests center on defense; letting himself take greater damage from an enemy, be better able to protect his friends, that sort of thing. Indrid even found a ritual that gives the god new cloaking abilities, which he’s used to make the cottages disappear on the hillside and thus keep curious townsfolk away. He also found one that allows Duck to remain out of water for well over a day.

The Duck who visits him in the cave and the one who stops by his home may be radically different sizes, but his disposition is constant. He talks about the kelp forests and the animals, about his annoyance with his supposed destiny as “destroyer of all man.” He conjures fine clothes from seaweed, furniture from driftwood, and brings Indrid newly made grins embedded with fresh pearls.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one serving you?” Indrid will tease.

“Way I see it, we serve each other. Don’t care what that fuckin oath said.”

Indrid is feeding his hens one evening when his luck catches up with him; his human friends are all standing at the edge of Dani’s house, peering anxiously around it’s corner and down the hill. Joining them, he sees a crowd marching with torches and an assortment of lethal farm equipment.

“What the fuck are they doing? You were just in town today and everything was fine” Barclay glances at Dani, who shrugs, worried.

“My visions tell me that as they get closer we will hear them yelling about witches and that I will recognize many of them. I suspect my fellow gibbet-occupant told them about Duck.” He sighs, “I’ll try to lead them on a chase, get them away from all of you.”

Indrid runs into the evening before the others, or his own common sense, can stop him. Keeping to the cliffside, he lets them glimpse his hair and his red glasses, both used at the trial as proof of his wicked nature. His plan is to take a secret tunnel down into the caves, but his visions alert him a moment too late to the fact there are two, not one, groups of villagers. He’s outflanked on the cliff, holds up his hands to show he means no harm.

“I understand my continued existence alarms and confuses you, but that is no reason to go running about with weapons. Would you kindly leave me alone?”

“No, witch, we will not.” The head of the party shouts over the wind.

“I have a name, you know.” He grumbles, looking behind him and wondering if his status as an acolyte grants him immunity from death by falling in the water.

“You have already confessed to your black work, and we have on good authority you have made a pact with the devil. There is nowhere to run, and if you come quietly I promise we will hang you properly this time.”

“And if I do not?”

“We shall see to it that your body is scattered about this cliffside before the night is out.” The mob moves forward and Indrid stumbles back, the earth giving out beneath his feet.

He lands with a yelp in a smooth, large hand. As Duck rises more fully from the waves, the crowd freezes, struck dumb with fear.

“Y’all ain’t gonna touch him, y’hear? Indrid’s under my protection and in case it ain’t obvious, I could smoosh the whole damn bunch of you without breakin a sweat. So, what you’re gonna do is turn around and go back to your village, and I’ll forget this ever happened. If you come after him again, I’m gonna start taking out ships in your harbor. We clear?”

The panicked flight of the mod downhill suggests he’s made his point.

Duck carries Indrid home, joining him in the cottage once he can fit through the door. The monster follows him upstairs, pulling him into his arms.

“Thought I was gonna lose you.”

“That makes two of us.”

Duck nuzzles the top of his head, “You mind if I stay here tonight? Little worried some of them might get it into their heads to come back and hurt you.”

No futures show this, but Indrid nods all the same. Duck curls up near the bed, not leaving until the morning sun shines through the window. He does the same the next night, and the night after that, and soon it’s been two weeks of the god talking softly with Indrid as the human falls asleep.

When Indrid shyly asks if Duck will join him, his monster lays as comfortably as he can on the right side of the bed. Indrid is now used to waking up with a tail looped around his leg or a tentacle clinging to his arm.

------------------------------------

Indrid is just drifting off when the covers slide aside and weight slithers up the bed. He opens his eyes; Duck is on his side, facing him, annoyed.

“What troubles you, my dark excellency?” Indrid nudges Ducks’ lower belly with his toes. He’s taken to calling Duck increasingly absurd things, and the monster calls him “faithful servant” or “esteemed attendant” in reply.

Tonight, Duck just sighs, “Y’know how I was supposed to do somethin important tonight, bein’ that it’s the second full moon in the month? Turns out that somethin was, ‘spread my seed among the beds of men’ so our kind will gradually overrun the surface.” He clicks his beak with a snort, “don’t that sound fun?”

“No.”

“Smart little thing, ain’t you?” Duck teases, cups Indrid’s chin, “Yeah, I said no. Problem is, apparently a second full moon makes my whole body wanna fuck, which is why that prophecy was supposed to happen tonight.”

Indrid looks down, sees something rippling under the skin at the upper part of Duck’s tail.

“I’m gonna try sleepin it off.”

His visions give him courage; Duck turns him down in most futures, but none of them end in death or bodily harm, which at his point in his life is all he asks.

“Or you could, ah, allow me to help you.”

Green eyes blink, slow and calculating, “‘Drid, that ain’t part of your job.”

“No…” Indrid scoots across the sheets, tentatively runs his fingers up Duck’s side, “but that is not why I’m offering.”

“No?” The rest of his tail joins them on the bed, curving so it traps Indrid against him, “Then why are you offerin, sweet human of mine?”

“Because I, ah, I want, that is I would very much like to know you in that way, and I thought it was allowed based on the others, I apologize if it’s not, I did not mean to-” He freezes as Duck cups his face, nipping his ear and throat with a kissing noise.

“‘Drid?”

“Y-yes, my lord of the depths?” He’s breathless, drowning in Duck’s gaze.

“Stop apologizin and take off your clothes.”

Indrid flails until nothing is between him and his monster.

“Thats better” Duck’s voice deepens, washing over him like rough waves, “now, come serve your god.” He pats what Indrid thinks of as his waist, the point where his human qualities disappear entirely.

“As you wish” Indrid tries for a coquettish smile as he straddles him, but it gives way to surprise as the slit in Ducks skin parts.

“I was not expecting tentacles. Which, given the rest of you, was naive.”

“Not usin that future vision of yours to see what’s comin’?” The webbing of Duck’s fingers is like velvet as it caresses Indrid’s chest.

“It is difficult to focus on such things when you are here. You command my attention. You always have.”

Duck flicks his tongue across Indrid’s lower lip, “Now that kind of devotion I could get used to.”

“It is yours whenever you want it.”

A tentacle emerges from his side, petting Indrid’s face, “My Indrid. You been so good for me, so faithful and true. Letting me babble about seaweed and when my claws through that pretty hair. And you just keep gettin better.”

“Please” Indrid rests his head against Duck’s chest, hugging him as best as his size will allow, “please teach me how to serve you this way too.”

“I can do that. You don’t gotta lift a finger.” Several of the tendrils that comprise his cock twine together to form a single appendage. The tentacle on his face gains a twin and the pair slide down to his ass, parting it.

Indrid’s thighs are uncooperative, struggle to get and keep him in the right position to sink down. He curses, reaches down to adjust only for a thicker tentacles to bind both wrists and yank them up above his head.

“Uh uh, I said no finger-liftin and I meant it.”

Indrid moans, his cock filling as he discovers there’s no way to free himself. He expects Duck to guide him into place with his hands. The end of his tail encircles Indrid’s hips while his claws trace arcane shapes on his skin.

“I, I did not know it was quite so dextrousOH, oh god.” The tip of that strange cock pushes in, pulsing little by little to stretch him open without pain.

“Right here.” Duck nibbles his hair with that same kissing sound, “I got you. Take such good care of my faithful human.”

“Oh god” Indrid can’t come up with anything else to express the sensation of Duck sinking deeper into his body, of how safe he feels stretched out and stretched open in the monsters hold. He tips his head back with a cry as Duck bottoms out and his cock moves fluid and disjointed all at once. It’s pulsing, thrusting him full on each inward push, yet it’s individual tendrils curve and curl within him independent of the whole.

“More, oh god, please, please never ever ever stop.”

A fond chuckle, “That good huh? Maybe that prophecy was wrong. Maybe what I’m supposed to do is fuck you full and then drop you in town so you can spread the word of how good my dick is. Be my consort and prophet all in one. Get everyone clamorin for the chance for me to fuck them.”

“No” Indrid squirms, petulant, “you’re my master. Not theirs.”

A louder laugh this time, “You gonna take the amount of fuckin I was supposed to do to a whole town yourself?” A tendril curls around Indrid’s aching cock.

“Yes” He wails, rolls his hips “you may have me as often as you please, I want you too, I’ll, I’ll be your faithful servant always.”

“You’re already somethin better; you’re my ‘Drid.” Duck twists the tendril and Indrid’s lost, his orgasm knocking breath from his chest and tears from his eyes as white spatters the green of Duck’s abdomen.

“That’s it darlin, lookit you bein so good, cummin for your master. Think it’s time for you to make good on your promise to take whatever I give you.” The tail lifts Indrid up and down as Duck cums, the monster not so much as pausing before thrusting his hips harder, “fuuuck that’s good, my perfect servant, my ‘Drid, takin me so well.”

Indrid sobs as another burst of cum enters him and a strange feeling fills his chest; he’s buzzing with blindingly bright power. It’s coming from Duck, he knows this, and in the haze of his submissive state he understands the depth of his divinity.

“Duck” he whimpers as more tentacles twist around his limbs, the god losing himself in his pursuit of pleasure, filling Indrid until his belly twinges and his eyes fight to remain open. When the god groans out the humans name a final time, Indrid is so enveloped by him he wonders if they’ll ever fully disentangle.

The monster carries him to the washroom, Indrid still squirming on his cock, and gently pulls him free to set him in the tub. A flick of his hand fills it with warm seawater.

“You okay?”

“I doubt I will be able to walk tomorrow.” Indrid smiles to show he relishes this fact.

“Guess I’ll be spendin tomorrow waitin on you.” Duck joins him in the tub, coiling protectively around him as he washes his chest and thighs.

“I thought I was the servant here?” Indrid cuddles closer, kissing Duck on the tip of his beak.

“Nah. Far as I’m concerned, we take care of each other.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #Indruck #monster march #reader requests #monster boyfriend #the author says "fuck HP Lovecraft

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poormeowmeowcollector · 3 years

Text

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 4: Bridge and Chorus

Chapter summary: the aftermath

Chapter warnings: Odin, Major Character Death, suicide

Chapter note: this chapter is dedicated to @lucywrites02 because she pretended to be a bad bitch yesterday.

Previous chapter AO3

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

The shackles sing as Loki walks towards the throne, fighting back a grin. Odin, on the other hand, sits on his high quality chair, believing to be intimidating.

"You have committed a grave crime against the-" Odin tries to speak, but Loki chuckles.

"I know what I have done, Odin. No need to repeat yourself," they interrupt, using a voice they've been hiding in their throat since they learned how to speak.

And it has so much to say…

"Has your mother taught you no respect for your king?" They yell, their favourite way of speaking to Loki. In all these years, Loki cowarded away at this voice, scared of a physical expression of the anger. This time, he laughs at it.

"Not my mother, and I have no king but myself," they smile, watching a new wave of anger flashing in the old charlatan's face.

"Silence! You never knew how to shut this mouth of yours!" Odin raises his voice, hoping to see the now natural cowering of Loki. The only answer is another laugh.

"Do you really want me to start speaking, Odin? To see who is truly guilty, with all these good dicks and whores listening?" Loki asks, a glow in his eyes as he gestures around as wide as the shackles allow. The harshness of their tongue makes the nobles who watch the "trial" gasp.

"Who taught you this language?" The old man spits, narrowing one eye.

"Apart from your anger? And that old warrior you ordered to teach Thor and me how to survive in a forest? And there are the guards, I can name a few but stitching is a worse crime than murder…" he mutters, acting if like he's chatting with a cup of tea other than being on a trial for murder.

There's no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

"Enough with your games! Why did you murder Lord Gæirasson in cold blood?" Odin asks the "big question", as if the right answer will lift the charges from Loki's name.

"Because… one, because he was a racist and offended me, to which the punishment is death. Two, because he started a war-"

"You started a war, Loki," Thor interrupts, taking Odin's side, like every time.

"A war had been started. Let's not blame people, Thor. Now where were I? Oh, yeah, at how Gæirasson started a war. Also, he refused to pay his taxes and you know how seriously I took my responsibility of being in charge of the palace's finances. Did war crimes against my people, father would be proud the son of a bitch is dead. And lastly, but definitely not least, a dreadful sense of fashion. Have you seen what his grooms wear? I think I threw up in my mouth when I saw it…" they finish with the rumbling, not even thinking of answering seriously. Odin will execute him anyways, would some fun be so bad?

"I said, enough with the games!" Odin basically screeches, their face going red.

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

"For the murder of a lord, cause of a war and disrespect towards the throne, I Odin Allfather sentence you to a life in the dungeons," he decides.

"Dungeons? Not axe? Did Frigga's ghost or this moron talk you out of killing me?" Loki questions, taking their turn to narrow their eyes.

"If you keep talking, I might change my mind," Odin sighs, rubbing his temple.

"And get rid of this perfect pawn to hold King Laufey from the balls? A shame, really," Loki poutes and shrugs, pretending awfully that he cares.

"I will not stand your disrespect any longer! I had granted you your life, Loki, more than once! You will learn to respect me for it! Take them to the dungeons!" Odin speaks the final order. Four guards grab the chains that lead to Loki's shackles and push him away, forcing him to walk with them

Only then I am human / only then I am free

On the way to the dungeons, Thor stops the guards and demands to speak to Loki.

"Just tell me why, brother. Please. What didn't we give you to make you care so little?" they ask, grabbing Loki's shoulder, just like they always used to do.

"A family. That's what you didn't give me. And that's what I've earned," Loki answers, staring right into his no-brother's eyes, the blue in them and the pale lines that resemble his lightning. They know they won't see Thor from this close ever again, and they deserve a proper last memory.

"Then, I'm sorry. It's late, I know, but remember this, please… I shall visit, whenever I can, Loki. I swear. You shouldn't be in prison all alone," Thor promises. Loki gives only a nod, enough to make Thor dismiss the guards and let them keep walking Loki to his future and last chamber.

The only sign of emotions they allow themselves to show is a sigh, only out of sympathy.

For he knows that his freedom just begins.

Take me to church / I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

The moment the guards put Loki back into the white vacant cell and take their eyes off them, they cast an illusion of them settling on the floor and staring at nothing. The real Loki is walking up and down the room, waiting for the Tesseract to speak.

"Now?" he asks, feeling it close.

"Now, you need to learn who your family is. Not Odin, not Laufey, your true family, Entropy," they answer.

"What with this name? After all this, can't you call me by my name?" Loki groans.

"I am. You have many names. Entropy, the Chaos Stone, the Death Stone, the Knot… the last one, actually, is the name you're most familiar with, translated to Old Jötunn tongue," they speak, all matter-of-factly.

"You're lying, the Chaos stone is a myth," Loki brushes off the answer.

"It does exist. A black gem, created by billions of ropes, strings and threads tangled together. The hardest one to wield and command and impossible to find. The Jötnar had found it and worshipped it. And when Laufey found out that his son is nothing but a dead baby, he sacrificed the infant for the infant. And Odin found the baby crying in the altar, the gem gone,"

"So I own my life to an imaginary stone, apart from an old piece of shit. What a surprise…" Loki throws their hands in the air.

"No. You are the imaginary stone. In order to give life, the Chaos gem entered your body and never left. You are the flesh of a corpse and the mind of an infinity stone. And it's time to leave the corpse and join us,"

The aimless walking stops, and Loki's heart skips a beat

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

"You made me kill a man, for this?" he asks, glaring at nothing. They don't answer.

"You made me kill a man! Just so I could die!" boiling hot tears streaming down their eyes and slither into their shirt as burning red eyes stare at the empty room for something. "I trusted you! You promised me a family!" he yells between his sobs.

Their feet cannot support them, and they kneel down, turned into a crying sobbing and yelling mess. A hand, created by mist, grabs his shoulder, trying to provide comfort.

"I hate you," they spit, flaring their nose drills as they stare into the blue eyes of the illusion they use to pretend they're close to them.

"I'm sorry, hurting you was… if I could prevent it…" the stone says and gives him a small squeeze. And they mean it. If there was a way to do it without any pain, they would. But it's too late, Loki is already hurt…

Offer me that deathless death

Loki throws themselves into the tightest embrace they ever had, weeping like a baby. "I don't want to die. Please, I don't wanna die. Anything but this, anything, please!" he whispers, diving his head into their shoulder without a thought of holding back the tears.

"Shhhh, you won't die. Not truly. Your mind is the stone, as long as it exists you exist. And the body will stay intact until you need it again. You will be fine, I promise," they whisper, hoping of making them feel better.

"I'm scared, Tessie. I'm so scared, I can't," for a prince, Loki sounds so small, almost like the small child they used to be. Tessie starts playing with his hair, hoping to calm him down, even for a bit.

"It's alright. Everything will be fine, no matter if you do it or not," they shush them.

"If I do it or not?" Loki repeats, sniffing quietly and breaking the hug only to look at the misty blue eyes of Tessie.

"I… you're in so much pain… if you decide that you had enough, you'll be left alone," they explain. Loki nods, still quivering from the crying, but determined.

"No. We got so far. I-I-I'm not giving up," he lets his voice get louder, and then stands up. "What do I do?" they ask, collected once again.

"Get comfortable in a position. And once you're ready, make the ropes appear and let them wash over you," Tessie explains, holding this sympathetic voice. Loki nods and sits back down against the white wall, moving to get comfortable.

Then, with just a thought, the ropes appear and fill him with this calming sensation. Tessie walks closer and cups their cheeks. "See you on the other side, Loki," they smile and kiss their forehead before vanishing.

Loki takes a deep breath, and looks around the cage. He remembers a field day he had when little, a good day. Odin was sleeping on a bench and Frigga was yelling at them and Thor to not get into trouble as Thor dragged Loki, who was just above six, on an expiration of the forest around a castle in Vanaheim. Of course, they returned after the sun was down, with scraped up knees and dirty clothes and Loki had traces of tears in his cheeks because a bug scared him. But it had been, and still is, the best time they ever had with Thor.

He holds tight into the memory as he lets the ropes cover him and closes his eyes.

Good God, let me give you my life

The guards don't know how this happened. One moment, Loki was gazing at nothing and the next…

How does one say this to the Allfather?

The healers walk out of the cage when Thor storms in the dungeons, on the verge of panicking. "Is he alive?" It's all they ask.

The healers won't answer, it's enough to know.

Thor walks in and sits beside what used to be Loki, holding their cold and deformed hand and letting tears run down his face.

Loki doesn't respond, how could he?

He's a statue, as if made from black stone, and his hands covered in stone black ropes, with a faint glow where his heart should be being the only sign that there was once life there.

Loki's face doesn't have the signature smirk, and there's no gleam in their closed eyes. But he does wear a peaceful smile. A smile Thor regrets he had to see this body in order to know that his brother knows finally peace.

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Is the this the longest fic Ive ever written? Yes. Does it suck? Also yes. Will nobody read it because it makes no sense but Im still going to post because I wasted way too much damn on this thing? TRIPLE YES.

Word count: 10.4k words (she thicc)

Genre: Angst and Fluff, sfw

AU: Fantasy AU!, Hanahaki disease

Prompt: “How could your keep this from?”

Warnings: blood

Summary: You are born into a worls where you must marry your best friend, Prince Shoto, in order to unite your kingdoms in harmony. You are happy to marry your childhood friend and love, until he leaves for a quest unannounced, and you are left questioning if you really want to marry him. Once he returns a few weeks before your planned wedding, you begin to not fall in love with him, but one of his comrades- the barbarian, Bakugo.

*this is for the even for @bnhabookclub! Heres the link to the post if your interested!

Again. welcome to the shitshow that is my blog. read at your own risk cause this gets REAL WIERD REAL QUICK

Petals-all you could see were the petals.

Your mouth and throat felt so dry, your forehead damp with sweat as your back convulsed painfully, raspy coughs wracking out of your chest as you forced the petals out of your body.

They were so pale, like creamy vanilla, a stark contrast from the droplets of your blood splattered on the delicate buds.

You quickly reached for your handkerchief, wiping the residue off your dry mouth in fear of it dribbling on to your white dress-your wedding dress. Your hands were shaking, unable to cry any more tears at your misery-you had come to terms many weeks ago that you were going to reach an unhappy end.

Why did it have to be him?

----------------

You were the princess of your kingdom, destined to marry Prince Shoto of the neighboring kingdom. It was something you two had been accustomed to from birth- in order to connect the two kingdoms and end the quarrels between the two civilizations, you had to marry. It would be a harmonious marriage: Prince Shoto was kind, soft spoken, and a natural born leader. You two had been wonderful friends as siblings, your fathers putting away their troubles in order for you two to get along. They were hoping that by making you friends at a young age, you would learn to grow feelings for each other.

For a time, it worked-you had fallen for Prince Shoto, his soft yet powerful demeanor making you blush each time you remembered him, your young hands writing your name with his last in your journal like a prayer. At 13 you already began to count down the days until you would turn 18, because on that day, you were set to marry your predestined lover- Shoto Todoroki.

For years you had felt so lucky you were blessed with such a sweet boy to be with, being able to live out your lives harmoniously and in peace, something both your parents didn't have the luxury to have. It sometimes left you feeling frustrated- Shoto was truly kind, but very quiet about his thoughts. Your love felt one sided, Shoto seemingly only tolerating you because he had to.

Once he got older, he became more distant towards you, clearly wishing to rebel against his father’s wishes by being distant towards you. It hurt you immensely to see your best friend and crush plainly reject you, but you still held on to the hope that you two could be happy with each other. Yet all that changed when the Prince had left for a quest.

He had been gone for what seemed like an eternity and for a time, you were extremely worried. You could barely focus on your studies, only imagining your poor friend somewhere cold, hungry, and alone. You knew he would be fine, he was a resilient fighter, but yet you couldn't help but allow the worrisome thoughts to collect in your brain. After news that the Prince was in a neighboring kingdom, safely traveling with a young boy, a witch, and a warrior, you felt at ease- with all those comrades, he was sure to be safe. You finally breathed a sigh of relief, able to calm your anxieties after a long time of being unable to.

Information continued to trickle in, sometimes good and sometimes bad, but it always stated that the Prince was spotted safe and sound. You took solace in that information, and for awhile, you began to worry less and less about Shoto, until he was barely a memory.

During that time, you had begun to take on the habit of reading. Before it was a task you simply did when forced or extremely bored, only reading books and stories from your own kingdom.

With so much extra time on your hands waiting upon the Prince to return, you began to learn of other stories, ones that were trully a delight to you: stories of nomads who traveled the country and did rituals to bring them fortunes, women who sold potions by gathering mystical ingredients from the woods, people choosing their own destines and their own paths. It intrigued you- from birth you had one mission for your life: to unite your kingdoms. Once you married Prince Shoto, your destiny would be complete: and then what would you do? You had no other purpose, except being a symbol of that peace for the rest of your life, sitting pretty on a throne until your last breath.

It began to eat at your insides, gnaw at your conscience that you were merely a pawn in your father’s legacy. You could now fully understand why Shoto had been so defiant: he had realized the truth of his life as well.

Slowly, you began to learn to dread instead of anticipate your wedding day. With the Prince being gone, it was sending quite a ruckus in your home, your father more annoyed with each passing day that the Prince had not come back. You, on the other hand, rejoiced. The kings had both agreed at your times of birth that if anything happened to either child before your 18th birthday, the agreement would be cancelled and the marriage no more. They would rely on their children to fix their broken ties.

You had just turned 17, the mental clock beginning to tick in you and your father’s minds, as the Prince still wasn't back form his quest. Just a few more months, and you would both have your wishes: Shoto seemed to have no interest in marrying you, and why should you even for that matter? You two truly didnt love each other- your friendship was a hoax your fathers had created in order to save their own legacies. Your love for each other was man-made and a lie. Just a few more months, and you'd be free of this terrible fate.

------------

The day you turned 17 and a half, you were busying yourself on your plush pink bed, reading another novel about free spirited women in a far off land.

“Princess y/n,” your hand maiden opened the door quietly, afraid of disturbing you, “the King would like to speak with you.”

You gave your shy handmaiden a small smile, delicately marking the spot in your book as your feet landed on the cold floor.

“Thank you,” you replied, “Ill be there shortly.”

You entered your father’s study, his feet stomping the room heavily as he paced in deep thought.

The room was grand, a golden chair sitting in front of an old ebony desk, the room surrounded by maps, battle plans, and bookcases full of legends of stories written long before your time. Light flitted through long windows against the wall, looking out to the rural countryside and a matching red carpet run the lengths of the stone floors.

Your entrance seemed to have disturbed your Father’s train of thought, his head instantly looking to see who had interrupted him. Once he saw it was you, he sighed, greeting you with a tight smile.

“You wished to see me Father?’ you asked politely, your fingers tugging nervously at the sleeves of your dress. Your father never called upon you unless it was extremely important- had you done something wrong? You wracked your mind for any actions that would had been unwise for your father to find out, but to your surprise, you couldnt think of a single thing you had done.

“Yes, yes,” your father said hastily, waving his hands toward a small wooden chair at the foot of his desk, “please-sit. We have much to discuss.”

You sat on the hard chair, a chill traveling your back as you watched your father sit in his plush throne, his face clearly tired.

“As we all know, Prince Shoto has been on a quite a long quest for some time,” your father began, his voice deep with annoyance, “and has not come back. And with your 18th birthday fast approaching, and it worries me that the boy wont be back in time for your marriage. I have talked to King Todoroki about my worries, who also had the same fear, and he promised to bring the boy back and end his little shenanigan. But Shoto refuses to leave until his quest is complete.”

Your father took in a deep breath through his nose, his face a mix of anger and agitation.

Your heart beat excitedly- the prince wasnt coming back? The news bounced happily inside you, giving you some hope that you needed- that must have been why he had gone on that quest in the first place! Even though you were excited, you felt a tightness in your chest- you were childhood firend after all. He really didnt like you that much that he felt he had to run away?

“Oh dont look so solemn daughter,” your father comforted, his voice soft with sympathy,” Shotos father allowed the boy to finish his quest in 5 months’ time, and he is forced to return to his kingdom. In the meantime, we can not forget the whole reason for your marriage like young Todoroki has- you must connect the kingdoms in order to bring harmony.``

“Which is why,” your father added, “we must begin to plan the wedding.”

Your head shot up, the feeling of shock flooding your body. It was still going to happen? Your body began to feel heavy, your father's words fuzzy against your ear- you didn't want this, any of this. You felt trapped like a songbird in a cage, unable to scream out what you desperately wanted to say: if he didnt love you, you didnt want any part of this.

Your father seemed to not notice the look of terror on your face, continuing to inform you of his plan. “We already have sent out invitation to relatives and noblemen in other countries, as well as begin to plan out the festivities. It will be a 3 day event, full of food and parties and, of course, the celebration of our kingdoms coming together. The closer to the date, we will begin to need you for fittings of your dresses as well as rehearse your wedding vows and such. I promise I will make this as wonderful as I can, for you are my only daughter.”

The king smiled at you, wrapping your stiff body into a hug. You could barely feel his embrace- the world was numb to your screaming mind. You wished upon everything in you to end this, to make this all go away, but you knew you couldn't- you would be forced to do this whether you wanted to or not.

You simply nodded your head to your father’s parting words, and then ran to your quarters, shutting the door and ceremoniously throwing yourself on your bed in defeat.

--------------

For days you felt numb and broken, all fight leaving your body. You watched as all your handmaidens and servants ran like chickens around the castle, preparing for the enormous festivities coming in close time. You were a good and proper princes, silently placid and allowing everything around you to happen.

Flower arrangements, samples of sweets, and fabrics for your dresses all came to you, and you agreed to all of them or just randomly choose. You could care less for your “special day”- the only thing you could truly hope for was prince Shoto ignoring his father’s wishes and not coming back.

That, of course, was a wishful fantasy. You were having a blissful dream when your hand maiden barged into your room, clearly too excited to be considerate of your sleeping state.

“Miss y/n! Miss y/n! Oh please wake up! There is most wonderful news!” she cried excitedly, gently pulling the covers off your body, “You must get ready at once!”

“Prince Shoto- he is back from his quest!”

---------

The whole of the kingdom rejoiced at the news, since he had arrived a month before the wedding. He was here, ready to marry and unite the kingdom. That was all that truly mattered.

Your handmaiden dressed you in your most elegant gown, the icy aqua color bringing out the rosiness of your cheeks, as she placed pearly ornaments in your hair. You felt like you were being presented as a gift to the Prince, a reminder of what he was destined to do. You sighed, dreading having to reunite with your once friend and secret love.

Shoto was standing in the ballroom of your castle, very accustomed to it since you both played here occasionally as children. He was used to the golden floors and the crystal chandeliers the sizes of boulders, all hung gracefully in a row on the ebony ceiling. Him and his company were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the polished staircase cascading towards them.

He looked at his new found friend’s faces, their expressions clearly in shock. Izuku, his face ruddy with dirt and his cheeks aflame from nervousness as he twisted his shirt between his fingers (a nervous tick Shoto had noticed). Uraraka gawked at the room around her in awe, her wide eyes drinking up the scene in front of her. Bakugo was least impressed, his arms crossed in front of his exposed chest and his eyes formed in judgmental slits.

Shoto had told the others before why he had to go back, but only after the quest was over- he wanted to help his new found friends, and after promising to help them in their battle, he would have felt extremely guilty leaving them behind.

Their reactions were mixed when he revealed he had a marriage in a few weeks time- Izuku was clearly shocked yet in awe hed be marrying a princess, while Uraraka seemed to find the situation romantic. Bakugo simply laughed, mocking him from being such a “sissy” for actually getting married in the first place.

Shoto was feeling conflicted inside at the moment- it had been so long since he had last seen you, and when he had, he was less than kind to you. He was quiet, distant, and quite petty about the whole situation of your marriage. You had turned barely 17 when he left, his young body desperate for some adventure and resilient to his father’s wishes. He merely saw you as a nuisance, someone in the way of his freedom. He knew it was unkind and unjustified, you didn't know what was going on inside him, but he was angry nevertheless and desperate to leave. So when he was approached by young boy in need of a friend for his quest, it was hard to resist the offer.

But as nights when on and he had time to be alone with his thoughts, his mind always seemed to travel to you. The way you giggled, your laughs sounding like chimes in the wind, or how your smile always seemed to make his skin tingle with warmth.

You were always a strange girl, but always in the best way, daring Shoto to races even thought your father said it was “unlike a princess to do so” or trying to braid Shoto’s mix-matched hair.

He would never forget the day he had allowed you to do so, your nimble fingers soft against his skin and making him burn up from nervousness. Your touch was so calming and soothing, your small compliments and soft voice sending his soul soaring with pleasure. It was then he realized he had loved you for you, not because he was forced to.

Shoto felt guilty for forgetting those cherished memories in his fits of anger, but he had agreed to help Izuku and he vowed to not give up on that promimse. Months went on, and Shoto couldnt tell how much time had passed: he only hoped you were doing okay without him.

It wasnt until his father had came to collect him that he realized how short he was on time. He had still stuck by his friends, yet the constant reminders of your wedding was in the air, haunting him. They would travel through kingdoms, the whispers of this event following him as the townspeople began to talk. It was a wonder his friends never caught on except him, only to find out weeks before your wedding.

Now Shoto was standing in the ballroom, feeling quite nervous- he hadnt seen you in so long….would you look any different? He was certain your beauty had grown by then, the thought of you looking older and more womanly bringing a blush to his cheeks. How would you see him? He had become quite a different person on his quest, his body becoming more hardened from battles with bandits and the harsh life of travelling. Would you feel the same for him still? Were you just as excited as you were so many years ago to finally be together?

Shoto heard the clicks of shoes on the wooden floor, a man with the straightest back he had ever seen standing proudly at the steps of the stairs.The man took a deep breath, his voice traveling through the room as he announced your arrival to the group of travelers.

Yet Shoto didnt hear a single word he said- he was enraptured by your beauty. You had seemed to turn into a fine young woman since he had last seen you, your curves accentuated by the tightness of your gown, the blue complimenting you perfectly. Your hair flowed in soft ringlets on your back, the pearls in your hair like stars. You were an angel blessed to this planet- an angel he was destined to marry.

The only thing that was worrying him was your expression- he had expected you to seem so much more lively, welcoming the bright smile you would always give him when you saw him. But now, your face was gone of any warmth, looking almost numb to the situation as you looked down at the group.

You traveled down the stairs, hating the way your name sounded in the announcer's voice. This was all so cliche- the Prince comes from a quest, and there is the Princess, simply a prize for his hardwork. A trophy of sorts for doing a good deed. Why did it have to be this why? Why couldnt you feel anything? The world had felt so cold for so long, feeling trapped due to the lack of control you had. Everything had seemed to loose its splendor and color, your vision for weeks turning gray in sadness-

Until you saw him.

The ash blonde boy, his hair unruly and his eyes a bright red like blood. He was clad in strange clothes, like a barbarian, his chest completely open and showcasing his taut muscles. You were intrigued by him- you had only seen likes of him in books and stories you read. He was so different, so menacing, and you wanted to know more. He was the only thing you could focus on, not taking any time to look at the others in the group, including Shoto.

Shoto was the first to reach you, unafraid to approach you like the rest of the group as you reached the bottom of the steps.

“Y/n-” he said, his voice deep and airy, “you look-wonderful.”

You gave him a small smile, but it made his heart sink- you didnt look happy at all. It seemed forced, far from the bright grins you used to send his way all the time.

“As do you, Shoto. You look quite different from when we last saw each other.”

You quickly turned your attention away from him, focusing on his new comrades instead.

“I assume these are the young heroes that accompanied you on your journey?”

“Y-yes!” the young boy with the unruly green hair stuttered, nervously bowing his head. He was quite adorable in a way, his small stature and freckles dusted on his cheeks giving him a child-like quality (even though he was most likely your age). “My name is Izuku Midoriya!”

You gave a reassuring smile to the young boy, trying to make him feel comfortable.

“It is wonderful to meet you Izuku.”

You began to walk towards the girl know, her pointy yet colorful hat signaling that she was a light witch, a sorceress who used your powers for good.

The girl shimmied in her dusty boots, clearly as nervous as the boy. She lifted the corners of her cloth dress, bowing slightly.

“My name is Ochaco Uraraka, your highness,” she smiled sweetly, her cheeks dusted in a pinky glow.

“Ochaco…” you mused over the name, its sound foregin yet light on your tongue, “you are a light witch, I assume?”

“Yes, yes I am!” the girl practically squealed, relief seemingly flooding her face. ‘How did you know?”

You giggled a her amazement at you, completely unaware apparently that she had the most witch-like outfit you had ever seen.

“A lucky guess,” you shrugged your shoulders playfully as you began to walk again, your heart beginning to race as you edged toward the barbarian.

You stopped in front of the man, his stature a head taller than yours. You eyes looked slightly up at him, your cheeks reddening- he was much more handsome up close, his rugged features making you feel breathless. He un-apologetically judged you with his vermilion eyes, looking you up and down with scorn.

Why did you find that so attractive?

“And you are-”

“My name is Bakugo.” he instantly interrupted you, his voice deep and velevty like syrup, “thats all you need to know.”

“Bakugo?” Your brain searched for any name similar to that, but found none- this boy was definitely a foreigner, most likely from far off lands you could only dream of. You had no idea why he followed Shoto back to the kingdom, but you were happy he did- he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

“A warrior, I assume by your garments,” you nodded, your eyes trailing to his torso “and by the looks of your scars, an experienced one.”

He scoffed at your observations, his eyes rolling in his sockets.

“For a princess, your eyes wander a damn lot. But yeah- Im hella of a good warrior. Best in the kingdoms.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his language, your cheeks red by his comment. He was so unapologetic and rude, yet- it was intoxicating to you.

“I’m glad to here that.”

Shoto was eyeing you sadly the whole time- what was so different between you two? Why did you seem so welcoming to the others but so distant to him? His face began to turn red with fury as he watched you interact with Bakugo, the way Bakugo insulted you so plainly and cockily making him want to yell. He watched as your face had light up for just a moment when you spoke with him, something Shoto didn't get the luxury to experience.

He also noticed what Bakugo had vocalized- you eyes did wander when you looked at him. Shoto at first tried to rationalize that you were simply being curious, since Bakugo was definitely a strange sight for you, but the way your cheeks blushed and you smiled so warmly at him made him think otherwise.

What did you see in that barbarian that you didnt with Shoto?

You looked again at the odd group, taking a deep breath through your lungs.

“I want to congratulate you all for your successful quest,” you began, the lines slightly rehearsed, “and as thanks from my father for bringing back Prince Shoto, he would like to welcome you all for dinner tonight. We would love to hear all about your journey then,” you then snuck one last look at Bakugo, his eyes boaring into yours. It was making you feel a warmth inside that you had thought long ceased.

You instantly looked down at your hands, your cheeks feeling hot. You knew this was wrong- you shouldn't feel smitten for any other boy, especially this warrior, yet you couldnt help it- you were entranced by his resilience and the freedom he had, something you could only dream of.

“If youll excuse me, I have - things to attend to. It was a pleasure to see you all” you gave the group a tight smile, turning your back quickly from the group to follow your handmaiden back to your quarters.

Shoto watched you until you were gone, his heart beating painfully. He wished he could run up to you, grab you by your wrist and ask you what was the matter. It was still him, your friend for all those years, and you were still you, his love and his best friend. Were you beginning to forget, like he did? He felt his stomach drop painfully at the idea- he would ask you, tonight. He would figure out what had happened between you two, and fix it.

--------------

You were now at dinner, sitting stiffly as you moved your food around your plate, your tight corset making you feel un-hungry. All night you had been detached and quiet, feeling almost sick by your surroundings. Your father was overly outgoing to the guest,giving you side-eyed glances and trying to enter you in the conversation. You would simply smile and nod, occasionally throwing in a comment before returning to squishing your food between your utensils.

The only time you ever seemed interested was when Bakugo would speak. His comments were all snarky and rude, completely self centered about how strong or intelligent he was.

He was constantly proving his worth throughout the dinner, taking over the story of their journey when he saw fit, making sure everyone knew he was the most capable one of the group. It was obscene, his remarks, his language, even his personality, but- you were intrigued by it. The only person he had to listen to was himself. It was so intoxicating to watch him talk, to hear what other remarks would leave his mouth. Whenever he spoke, you stood up a little straighter, taking time to take in any information he gave about himself and immortalize it into your brain.

Shoto had felt awkward the whole meal, not knowing how to gauge your emotions. You seemed so distant, as if a stranger was sitting next to him. He wished he could enter your mind, detangle all the emotions and thoughts that were keeping you from being yourself around him. There was no laughter, no genuine smiles, no happiness came from you. This bothered him- you were usually so cheerful. His nervousness was eating the inside of his stomach, as his mind still couldn't figure out how to approach you after dinner.

“-and the wedding will be a three day celebration, full of festivities,” your father continued boisterously, his voice booming embarrassingly around the room, “Shoto and y/n will be the main attention, of course, over 200 noblemen will see them share vows-”

The sound of your chair pushing away echoed throughout the dining hall, making the whole group look to you. You cleared your throat delicately, a hand resting on your chest.

“Excuse me for my rudeness, but Im feeling- unwell,” you sighed a quick smile.

“Are you alright, do I need to-” the king asked, his eyes full of concern as you shook of his worries.

“Oh no, Im completely fine- just a headache,” you gave a pained smile, “I hope you all enjoy the rest of the meal.”

Shoto watched you walk away, desperate to make sure he knew which way you went in this large castle. He instantly pushed away from the table as well, rising quietly.

“I- uh-am full, thank you for the meal,” he bowed to the King slightly, placing his napkin on his plate as he rushed out, confusing the group that was left.

Izuku and Ochaco looked at each other, their cheeks red with embarrassment and shock as they looked at Bakugo, who was clearly not bothered by the disturbance. Ochaco then looked at the king, who was clearly confused by the whole ordeal, as an awkward air lay heavy on the table.

Ochaco hastily took a large bite from her plate, filling her mouth with food- “MMMMMM!” she exaggerated, trying to start up conversation again, “I LOVE the ham!”

------------

Shoto ran around the castle, looking through every corridor and door, searching for you.His head was racing, trying to organize his thoughts in his minds. He needed to figure out how to speak to you- should he act normal, like nothing was wrong? Should he be formal and see how that went? Angry? Upset? He didnt know how to approach you, but he knew he had to do it.

He finally saw your gown turn an empty hallway, his feet picking up pace. He quickly was able to catch up once he could pin point your location, his hand wrapping around your wrist in order to stop you.

You felt slender,cool fingers wrap around your skin, making your body run cold. You instantly jumped by the sudden touch, all breath leaving your body as you turned around quickly.

Your wide eyes met the mix matched orbs of Shoto, a small pang of annoyance filling your body from getting so scared.

“Shoto,” you replied breathlessly, slightly happy though it was only him and not somebody else that had grabbed you.

“I-uh-y/n,” he replied back, his mind going blank.

He let go of your wrists, his hands resting at the side of his body. “I-Im sorry to scare you like that,” he apologized, “I just- wanted to speak to you. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at the boy, his eyes now averting yours, probably from nerves. You decided to listen, turning your body to him.

“Apology accepted,” you said plainly, “What did you want to speak about?”

Shoto drew a blank- what did he want to talk about? He loved hearing your voice, finally only reserved for him, but yet you seemed preoccupied. Distant. Like you were on another world and not truly there with him.

He stared at you lightly, looking extremely conflicted. “I-I wanted to talk to you about what happened while I was gone.”

“You explained quite plainly what happened on your journey,” you replied, clearly not in the mood to talk, “I applaud you for your bravery, it must have been quite a difficult journey-” you gave him a small bow, your eyes gone of any warmth. “I really must go to bed, Im sorry, but i do feel-”

You began to walk away again, Shoto desperate to keep you near him. He walked in font you, blocking your path.

“You didnt here me correctly-” he changed his wording this time, trying to be as specific as possible. “I want to know what happened to you while I was gone.”

You eyebrows turned down in confusion. “What are you trying to say Shoto?”

He swallowed, trying to clear his dry throat as he licked his lips, conflicted.

“You seem-different.”

“Its been a year and a half since I last saw you, Shoto,” you reasoned, “of course Ill be different.”

“Yes, but-” he paused, “youre too different. Youre not the same y/n I knew.”

“Why? Because Im not following you around like a love sick puppy?” Annoyance began to bubble inside, feeling attacked by Shoto’s words. “Because I finally got over the fact you didnt love me ? You dont have to pretend Shoto, I know full well you only see me as a nuisance.”

Shock flooded Shoto’s system as your icy words pierced his skin. What happened to you? Yes, he was rude to you before he left, but he didnt feel like that anymore. That was a simple phase, were you going to define him by that?

“I dont see you as a nuisance, y/n.”

“Really?” you scoffed at his words. “then tell me why your father had to go out to find you twice before you finally decided to come back?”

“I made a promise to my friends. I had to finish my quest before-”

“You had a promise to me, Shoto!” you yelled exasperatedly, your heart bursting with hurt. “To your family! To my family! Our people! What was so much more important than that?”

“I was so worried about you Shoto, terrified for you. Those first few months I couldnt think of anything but you.” You were beginning to reveal a lot, too much, but the emotions, the hurt, the anger, was flooding out of you like a broken dam and you couldn't stop it.

“But then I realized that you didnt care for me. You thought I didn't notice how you gave me the cold shoulder those last few months? How you ignored me, only gave me quick answers, acted as if I was just a pest following you around? I remembered all of it, and then I realized- you left because of me.”

“You left because of me, didn't you, Shoto?” your voice was harsh and crude like metal, stabbing into Shoto’s conscience.

He stayed silent- how could he say anything back? Your words were making him feel small and foolish- he should have known that you would have noticed his change in demeanor, just as he noticed yours.

You smiled painfully at his silence, feeling a fresh cut of pain slash inside you. “I knew it.”

“Y/n, I-” There was so much he wanted to say, things he wanted to take back. He didnt want this meeting to go like this- with you even more distant to him. Out of all the possible outcomes, this had to be the worst one.

“Dont even try to backtrack Shoto, I know the truth now,you just confirmed it.”

He knew he was less than kind to you before he left, but know it wasnt like that anymore. Why were you so angry?

“Fine-yes-I left, and it wasnt right,” he admitted, his voice deep, “but Im back. Why are you putting my old self against me now?”

“Because I couldn't for the year and half you were gone! I-I loved you Shoto, and you-”

“You dont love me anymore?” Shoto looked down at you sadly, his eyes full of sorrow. It felt like his heart was breaking in two, the way those words spilled out your mouth so easily making it sting even more.

You swallowed, filling a pit grow in your chest. Everything felt so cold, so empty. This was your best friend- why couldn't you just be nice to him? You thought you had gotten over all this.

“You dont love me-so why should I love you?” your voice was barely a whisper, cold and empty in the frigid hallway.

Shoto stared down at you, his voice caught in his throat. Did you really believe that? That he didnt love you?You had been friends since children- you really thought all those times, all those days you played together, were all fake? Who even were you?

“I just want you to know,” you spoke, your voice monotone and icy,” Im not doing this for my father, or your father, or even you. Im doing this for my people and thats it.”

“It” meaning the wedding.

Tears began to prickle your lashline, confusion flooding your numb body as you began to walk away from Shoto-

you hadnt cried in what seemed like forever.

Why were you now?

“Y/n, please, can we just talk-” he tried to reason, harsh with desperation.

“No.” your voice was plain in its tone that you were done with the conversation.

“Im just curious Shoto- why did you come back? Because if I had the luxury to have all that freedom, to be free for once- I wouldnt.”

Shoto’s heart felt broken as he watched you walk away, your dress ruffling as you continued on your path. He felt defeated, confused, even angry- what had happened to you since he had been gone? Did you really hate him that much? What did you mean you had no freedom? More questions flooded his mind than what were answered, but he now knew one thing- you didnt want anything to do with him.

As Shoto’s was returning to his corrdiors sadly, you were lost in thought, just feeling- empty. You didnt feel sad, or angry, or even spitefu anymorel. Just- numb to the world. You could walk for miles and miles it seemed and you wouldnt feel a thing.

Why was that? Why were so mean to your long lost firend? You should be hugging him from happiness and relief-not meeting him with coldness and hate.

As you were lost in thought, you didn't even notice yourself running into a person. Your hand instantly reached out, meeting soft yet rough skin. You looked up in confusion ,and your breath hitch- it was the barbairan, his vermilion eyes like rubies as he stared down at you in scorn.

“Oi, watch were your going you damn princess,” he scolded,pushing you off him gently. You stumbled slightly, trying to get your footing right- you had run in to him, you had even touched him. If you were feeling alright, and if the circumstances were different, you could practically squeal. “Youre gonna hurt someone.”

“Did I hurt you?”

He scoffed at your comment. “Like you could ever hurt me,” his voice was deep and velvety, his comment sending shocwaves into your system. The reply was prideful, yet it could have been- sweet. Kind, in a way in a different light- maybe he meant it like that?

“How do you know that?” you blurted out, a small smirk crawling across your lips.

You just wanted him to talk more, to hear that velvety voice directed towards you- but you were close to flirting with him. What were you doing? What was going on with you?

One second you were chewing out your life time friend weeks before your wedding, and now you were being smitten with a random man you didn't even know.

He chuckled slightly, his canines glinting. “Your a fucking handful, arentcha?”

He eyed your wobbling feet, as you still were finding your footing slightly.

“You clearly cant walk right-you feeling fine, because Im not gonna be the one who carries you-”

“No, no , Im fine.” you reassured, your cheeks rosy. ‘Thank you for catching me.”

“Youre the one who ran into me.”

“You could have just pushed me off though, you seem like the type to do that,” you gave him a cheeky grin, it disappearing when you heard a slight growl come form him.

“The hell you mean princess?” he was trying to be menacing, but you could tell there was something behind it- he was curious. You loved how he called you “princess”, making it sound like a pet name than a title.

“Your a lone wolf, are you not? You are strong, independent, free-” you began to list off, your eyes focusing on his, “you follow your own code and beliefs”

“Damn right I do,” he agreed, your heart soaring that he looked so proud of you for describing him so perfectly. “-which is why Im confused as hell that half-and-half prince is allowing himself to get married.”

Ouch.

The small amount of hope that Bakugo seemed to like you had quickly got destroyed, feeling hurt flood your body. You quickly tried to shake it off, so Bakugo couldn't see it on your face.

“What he even want to talk to you about anyway?” The boy shifted in his stance, his muscles moving with his movements.

You gulped, guilt filling your body- Shoto, the one who had just fought with. You couldnt tell this boy what had happened- that was private, and really, it was embarrassing.

“Just-uh-about-” you stammered, your cheeks red as you searched for a lie.

“Ugh, let me guess, you two were trading spit werent you?” he interrupted in disgust, taking your red cheeks as a sign you two were doing something unholy in the hallway.

You swallowed, licking your lips as you gave him a tight lipped smile. You were just going to follow along with Bakugo’s line of reasoning- you didnt have any other better ideas.

“Y-yep, just- please dont tell anyone?”

He gave a bitter laugh, his voice booming against your ears. “You guys cant get dirty? I guess that makes sense, since you all our royalty, cant be having any scandals-”

“Do you promise?” you rushed him, now feeling uncomfortable- if anybody heard you and Shoto were kissing in the hallway, and you two were really arguing-

“Yeah, dont worry princess, youre secrets safe with me.”

You sighed a breath of relief, feeling your heart jump at the smirk the boy sent your way.

“Thank you- I- uh- best be going now,” you stammered, rushing past the warrior, “have a nice night Bakugo.”

You rushed to your room, your heart feeling on fire. Your hands were shaking, your mid racing- all you could think about was that boy. Your world had seemed so dark, until he showed up. His rude responses, his chaotic personality, his snarkiness, that overly prideful speech, his freedom- it was so intoxicating to you. You felt your heart pumping against your chest- you hadn't felt this alive in so long.

You suddenly felt very sick, your head feeling drowsy- maybe you were actually catching something, and thats why you were acting so strange? You were gasping for breath it seemed, your corset making it hard to breath. I felt like something was tightening around your chest, small prods poking into you from the inside- it was a strange sensation, one you did not welcome in the slightest. You stumbled to your bed, holding on to the post as your lungs felt tight with no air, liking something was blocking your passageway. Coughs began to erupt out of you, wracking your body until you finally felt you could breathe. You sucked in a deep breath, welcoming the sweet night air, your chest still feeling tight. You looked down at the ground, trying to slow your stammering heart, until your eyes feel upon something new- a single white petal, resting softly on the ground.

------------

After that night, You became obsessed with this boy, learning bits and pieces from him though conversation you had overheard from Shoto’s friends and workers inside the castle. You learned he was from an extremely far off land, past even the Mountains, which surprised you. He lived alone, and apparently had a dragon as well. He had gotten in many fights due to his overly prideful personality, which was why he had so many scars decorating his taut body. Your handmaidens seemed to look at him with annoyance, saying he refused to wear anything “civilized” and would plainly cuss them out if they even set foot in his room to clean.

You knew he had a softer side though- he had kept your “secret” safe, right? You heard nothing around the castle about any make-out session or argument between you and Shoto. That little act made you feel special in someway- maybe he had a soft side for you?

Whenever you would feel yourself getting sucked into the sadness of planning your wedding, you’d think of fantasies with that barbarian boy. Him taking you in the middle of night, taking you far away from this place. His hands placed around your waist, that snarky smile looking down at you again.

Seeing him walk around the castle grew a desperation and love in your body, watching his handsome face stare around the rooms, his voice loud and prideful- you wished he could look your way, acknowledge you again. His vermillion eyes sent fire into your soul whenever you closed his eyes, his face being a beacon of warmth in your life.

Yet that beacon of life was killing you from the inside- every day and every night you fantasized about Bakugo, the sickness taking over you grew worse and worse. The closer you got to your wedding day, the worse it felt, the vines inside you prickling at your soft organs. They were growing, you felt it, as you coughed up more and more petals.

For a few days you had no idea what was going on, fear striking you as you wondered if you should ask to see a doctor. But you decided to do your own research, scourging through books until you found your sickness: Hanahaki. The the mythical disease for unrequited love. It was quite rare, but it came to the most lonely, delusional, and desperate of lovers.

It made sense, really- it all started when you talked to Bakugo, after falling in his arms. It hurt he didnt love you back- but why should he? One run-in shouldn't make people fall in love with each other, but somehow it made you. You welcomed the pain alittle, as it was a reminder you still had some feeling other than emptiness inside you. It also terrfiied you- you were supposed to be in love with Shoto, not some barbarian from a far off land you barely spoke to.

How had this happened, how could you let this happen?

Even if you did tell others you had Hanahaki, they would point the finger at Shoto, calling him cold and callous for not loving you. You were the one who was the cold one, pushing your old friend away. Even if you felt some residue of anger for him, you wouldn't put him through that- he didn't deserve it. You let this disease do its course- if it went away youd be freed, knowing that Bakugo loved you back, and if not- well, you’d figure that out when you got there.

You had barely talked to Shoto or even noticed him since that night, not realizing the amount of worry he felt towards you. Everyday that went by he noticed how sick you looked, your skin paling and you eyes losing any life. Every cough you tried to hold back he noticed and it rang in his ear like a terrible siren- there was something wrong with you.It ate at his insides, his fear of you pushing him away again making him scared to ask what was wrong.

------------

It was now the night before you wedding and you were feeling less than hopeful. You were supposed to be lively and happy, as your father had thrown a party to celebrate the events of the next day, yet you had no energy left in you to dance or socialize. You stayed in a dark corner, trying your best to blend in and not be noticed.

The coughs were not leaving, and it felt like your chest was being constricted until you could barely breathe. The annoying tickle of a cough was constantly at the back of your throat, as you tried to keep the petals at bay. You were miserable.

“Princess, are you doing alright, you seem a little- pale? Do you need some water, or maybe fresh air,” the young witch Ochaco approached you, her rosy cheeks and bright eyes looking at you.

“Hello, Ochaco,” you greeted, your smile strained, “you know-fresh air would be nice.”

The sweet girl smiled at you, gingerly taking you by the crook of your elbow and out of the ballroom. The fresh air was rather nice, soothing your hurting brain and your sore lungs. You two walked in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Your mind was shifting around, thinking about Shoto and what would happen tomorrow. It hurt too much, though- you still were both not at speaking terms, and now you had to be promised to each other for eternity. The thought made your throat itch even more, and instead, you switched to own of your many fantasies of Bakugo that brought you some comfort.

“So, how are you feeling? Nervous, excited, scared?” Ochaco asked gingerly

“About what?” you asked, looking at her with curiosity

“Uh,um-your wedding,” she giggled nervously, her cheeks growing red again.

Oh-you cursed yourself for getting to invested in your fantasy, feeling embarrassed for thinking of Bakugo and not about Shoto.

You really didnt know how to answer her question-You felt yourself dreading it-how could you tell her that? But you didnt want to lie to her- lying to her would be practically evil, like giving a child a promise and not fulfilling it.

“Its expected of me to marry him,” you reasoned out carefully, “Ive been thinking of this day since I was a child.”

She gaped out you in awe. “Really?That early? In your kingdoms is it a tradition to marry from each other’s kingdoms?”

You gave her a wihsful smile. “Actually- no, it isnt. We’re the first ones.”

Her brown bob fluttered against her cheeks, her eyes staring up at you in confusion.

“I-if you dont mind me asking,” she asked nervously, “why is that?”

You sighed, giving her a small smile.

“Its kind of a long story….”

------------

“Long ago our two kingdoms began to quarrel against one another. But that happened years back- we still continued to fight against each other, and quite frankly, we forgot about why. We just knew we hated each other and wanted to see the other fail. My father had always said to me that my mother wished for her children to be born in a peaceful kingdom, yet my father’s pride prevented that from coming true for her.

“Until the day I was born- my mother, sadly, died while giving birth to me. My father now had no queen, and really, no future ruler, since I am a girl and only men can become ruler in my kingdom. In his grief, he began to feel sympathetic, I suppose- he knew King Todoroki had a young boy who was barely turning 4, and my father got an idea. He travelled to his kingdom, and somehow was able to talk King Todoroki into an agreement.”

“In order to end the suffering of our two kingdoms, Shoto and I would marry once I turn 18, in which would bind our kingdoms forever in peace, with Shoto as ruling over both.”

Ochaco breathed out a large sigh, giving you a conflicted expression.

“So-thats why you two are getting married? Its arranged?”

You looked at her in confusion-“Didnt-Shoto tell you that? I thought Bakugo at least knew-”

“Bakugo?” Ochaco blinked a few times, clearly puzzled. “Bakugo just thought it was quite, well, wierd Shoto was getting married- Bakugo is just a lone wolf who cant understand love I guess-”

You strangely felt angry at her words- how could she even say that about him? Yes, he was cold and callous at times, but how could she know he couldn't at least love? You knew he had to at least have some way of having feelings for another person, you had to at least hope for that-

“-it must be why he left last night,”

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a ton of bricks pound into your chest.

“He-he left?

“Um yeah! Something about being ‘bored waiting around for a stupid’- oh my gosh, y/n are you alright!?”

You were coughing up quite alot, your lungs dry and painful as your heart tore in two. He-he left. Without you. Without even a goodbye.

After all that daydreaming, all that hope, that dedication to him, hoping he would notice you- he left. He never loved you, and you knew it- you were just so desperate for someone to take you, to teach you how to be free.

You wanted him to teach you, to see potential in you that you could be just as defiant to the world as him.

Uraraka wrapped her slender arms around your body, patting your back softly to help you rid your body of whatever had attacked you. It was taking everything in you to not let a single petal fall out, the itching in the back your neck unbearable as your heart beat agonizingly against horribly.

You felt a few silky petals slip out of your mouth, soft against your dry tongue. Miraculously, Uraraka didn't suspect a thing- most likely from the darkness she couldn't see the disease overtaking you.

You gulped desperately for air, finally getting a hold on your lungs.

“I-Im fine,” you panted out, raising from the floor on shaky knees. “Thank you”

Urarka gave you a pointed look, clearly not convinced. “Of course, but are you sure? Do you need water, or maybe I should get Shoto-”

“No!” you yelled out, covering your mouth in case of another attack.

You felt a little guilty for yelling at Uraraka so harshly, her wide eyes looking at you in shock-you just couldnt bear seeing Shoto when you were grieving over a lover that was never yours- and apparently dying from it too.

“No, Im fine, really,” you said more calmly, trying to be reassuring, “lets, just- walk back, if thats okay-”

“Yes of course! Ill walk you to your room, just in case you get sick again-”

You two walked in silence again, you mulling over your broken heart as Uraraka watched you in worry. You two passed the ballroom, everyone seemingly enjoying themselves and not noticing you two as you lead the way to your room.

You stepped up to the door, your hand grasping the doorknob until you paused, a question entering your mind. You were still confused why Uraraka said she didnt know your marriage was arranged-you would have expected Shoto to have told his group after saying he was getting married.

Was he embarrassed by it, that he was marrying you?

“You said you were surprised to here our marriage was arranged,” you asked quietly, “Shoto never told you?”

Uraraka shuffled in her pink boots, her shoulder hunched close to her chin.

“He-uh-no,” she breathed out, “he said he made a promise to marry a girl he loved.”

-------------------

Morning.

Daylight.

Wedding.

You should be feeling happy, excited, optmistic-you had been imagining this day since you were a child. But now, all you could feel was a coldness you couldnt seem to shake off- after your talk with Uraraka last night, you felt so confused.

The person you “loved” had never loved you, leaving you sick and hurt.

The person who did love you, you most likely pushed away to the point where they didnt love you anymore.

You couldnt even understand your emotions yourself. All night your sickness wouldnt leave your poor lungs alone, making you cough uncontrollably all night, the petals piling up around you.

You wouldn't allow anyone to see you in the morning, snatching your wedding dress from your hand maidens and putting in yourself. You fixed yourself up, trying to make yourself look as lively as possible, but it seemed impossible- you felt too empty inside to really put your heart into it.

Another round of coughs attacked your chest, a single petal dribbling out of your mouth, along with a speckle of blood. It dripped on the inner folds of your creamy white dress- easily disguisable if you made sure it was covered- yet it made you begin to cry.

What was going on? Why did you have to do this? Why were you still sick?

Your knees hit the cold floor, wave after wave of tears and coughs struck your body in a terrible symphony, the petals piling up on your dress.

You couldnt take it anymore- this sickness was going to have to take you, because you had no energy left to fight it anymore.

You felt a knocking on your door, the sounds harsh against your temple. You sniffled, one last cough feebily spilling out of your bloodied lips.

“Go away-I promise Ill be out soon-” you began sadly, until you heard the door swing open.

You looked up, your face in shock as you did not lock eyes with your handmaiden, but with Shoto’s.

He looked around the floor, noticing the bloody petals, his face completely torn-he knew what was going on.

Shoto stared down at you, his eyes boaring into yours-he knew something was wrong with you. He had came by your room in hopes of fixing your relationship before speaking your vows, working up the courage until he heard you crying. No matter what was between you two, he wouldnt let you go through pain by yourself.

Now he watching you cough up your life, those sickly petals flowing out of you, each one taking a toll on your body.

He gasped out your name, the words like honey as he sat next to you on the floor. You looked so beautiful in that white gown, like an angel from heaven.

But the paleness of your skin, the bags like bruises under your eyes, the blood on your lips- it all reminded him that you were human, and you were hurting inside. He reached for your hand, his fingers grazing your skin-so cold- but you pulled it away quickly.

“Please, dont Shoto-” you whispered hoarsely, “Im-”

Another wave of coughs wracked at your chest, this time the rasps painful against your chest as the vines squeezed.

Shoto didnt know what to do- how could he help you? There wasn't anything he could do to help, except watch his best friend and love slowly cough her life away. A few petals cascaded out of your mouth, adding to the piles as you heaved air back into your lungs, your knuckles white.

“How, how could you keep this from me?” he asked sadly, ignoring your pleas and pulling you into his lap.

You felt how warm he was, and realized- he did love you. He had been there for you as a child, and he was here for you now, comforting you in your worst moment.

Your heart felt like it was exploding as tears cascading down your face, salty and warm against your skin.

“How-how could I Shoto?” I shuldnt have been so mean to you,” you sobbed, “Im so sorry, so sorry, this is all my fault-”

“Please, no, dont be sorry,” he said softly, his arms cradling your body, “we both have our own faults. I shouldnt have left you for so long, and Im sorry for that, I-” he gulped, his heart beating harshly against his chest.

“I-I do love you,y/n, I do.”

You picked up your head, forcing yourself to look at him- he was so handsome, his mix matched eyes softly looking down at you- he was still the little boy you knew from a child, though, always so calm and sweet.

“I know, Shoto, I just, I-” you gulped, fighting to keep the coughs and sobs at bay.

He sighed, feeling his heart sink.

“You loved Bakugo, didnt you? Thats why,” he motioned to the petals, “this is happening to you.”

You gave him a shocked look, your eyes wide and glassy. You forgot how observant Shoto could be- you felt your cheeks grow red, realizing now he must have known by the way you stared so much at Bakugo.

“Was-it that noticebale?”

“Y/n,” he sighed, his chest feeling heavy, “very.”

You giggled at his remark, feeling strange for laughing for once. But Shoto was so abrupt with his words, it always made you laugh at his remarks.

Shoto’s heart soared at your laugh, the sound like chimes against his ears. It died down, the room quickly feeling closed in again.

“I just dont want to do this. I-I want to be friends again. To figure out who were are, without us being forced to be with each other.” you sighed, your heart rattling against your chest. “ I-I want to be with you and marry you- when we decide. Not my father, or your father- I want to be free to choose.”

You turned to Shoto, your hands touching his cheek.

“I-I did love you-and I still do-Im just so confused, and trapped, and-”

“You just want to be your own person,” he finished your sentence, his voice so much stronger than yours.

He looked down at you, his face surprisingly smiling.

“I think I may have arranged that,”

You jumped up, your face in shock. “H-how? Tell me!” you squealed, not unilke a child, your eyes wide with anticipation.

Shoto grinned at your face, loving how excited you could get so quickly.

“Do you remember my oldest brother?” he asked

“Of course I remember Natsuo! He was always so kind to me as a child,” you reminenscenced, “but how is he going to help us?”

“Well, as it turns out, I spoke to our fathers and my older brother,” he said, a small grin on his face, “they agreed that my brother could rule both kingdoms in my place. By himself, and my sister will accompany him if he ever needs help.”

You sucked in a lung full of air, unable to believe what you had just heard-

“So that means-”

“We are free to do what we want now.”

You yelled in happiness, happy tears cascading on your face as you wrapped his body around yours, “thank yous” spilling out of your lips.

Shoto hugged you back, smiling sadly- he had to admit, it was hard negotiating that new deal. After the night, that remark of how you didnt feel “free” stayed in his brain, haunting him until he found a solution. Knowing it would make you happy made it worth it- even if that meant you could leave him now. He loved you, but if that meant you could be happy with or without him, he would be content with the knowledge that you were finally able to be your own person.

“You can now be yourself,” he said sadly, his eyes staring down at the floor, “and even if that means you do not love me, I accept it. You dont have to feel guilty.”

You looked at the poor boy, his eyes shaded as his bi-colored locks cascaded onto his foreheads. You felt a warmth fill your chest, the sensation soothing and calming as the tightness in your lungs dissappeared. The tickling in your throat seemed to wane slightly. Your hand found his as his eyes instantly rose to meet yours.

“I wont feel guilty,” you smiled gently, “I want to be free- with you.”

Taggings: (if you want to be added, just shoot me an ask or a reply on this post and Ill add you on to my future fics!)

@freckledoriya @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnhabookclub #bnha au #bnha fantasy au #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todorki x reader #mha todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto #mha shoto x reader #mha shoto todoroki #bnha prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x you #prince shoto x y/n

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jawsofhakkontranscript · 3 years

Text

Ameridan’s End: Assault the Jaws of Hakkon

(Previous quest - On Ameridan's Trail)

Main questline: Ameridan’s End: Assault the Jaws of Hakkon

This is the first part of "Ameridan's End" questline.

Characters involved: Svarah Sun-Hair, Lace Harding, Bram Kenric, Gurd Harofsen

Preparations are in place to wage assault on the Jaws of Hakkon and search for Inquisitor Ameridan.

Part 1: Speak with Svarah Sun-Hair

Svarah: When you are ready, you have our blades, Inquisitor.

Dialogue options:

Special: Hakkon connects to Ameridan. [1] (If both “Storvacker Caged” and “What Yet Lingers” have been completed.)

General: Let us begin the assault. [2]

[1] Special: Hakkon connects to Ameridan.

PC: You said that the Jaws of Hakkon first tried binding their god in mortal form hundreds of years ago?

Svarah: What of it?

PC: In our search for Inquisitor Ameridan, we learned that he came here to fight a great dragon 800 years ago… A dragon that came from the mountains with Avvar warriors to attack the lowlands.

Svarah: (Laughs.) Your last Inquisitor must have fought well to stop Hakkon himself! [3]

[3] Subsequent dialogue options:

Investigate: This is all right with you? [4]

Investigate: Does this happen often? [5]

[4] Investigate: This is all right with you?

PC: You're not bothered by the idea that our Inquisitor killed your god?

Svarah: He didn't kill him. That would have been easier. Whatever fight your Inquisitor finished, the Jaws of Hakkon started. I find no fault with a warrior defending his people. [Back to 3]

[5] Investigate: Does this happen often?

PC: Do the Avvar gods take mortal form on a regular basis?

Svarah: No. The gods belong in the land of dreams. Whether it is their wish—or some augur's—that brings them here, battle-tears will be shed. The skalds say the Lady of the Skies took mortal form when Tyrdda Bright-Ax first led the Avvar to the mountains. They say many things about Bright-Ax and the Lady. [Back to 3]

[2] General: Let us begin the assault.

PC: I'm ready to attack the Jaws of Hakkon.

Svarah: Good. They will pay the blood-price for what they have done.

(Kenric and Harding enter the Thane's hall.)

Svarah: Your skald and your scout are here. We can plan the assault.

Kenric: Oh, I like the sound of "skald." It's more dramatic than "professor."

Harding: (Coughs.)

Kenric: Yes, well. Everything we've found about Inquisitor Ameridan suggests that he never emerged from that Tevinter fortress.

Svarah: If that is where your Inquisitor defeated Hakkon, that is where the Jaws of Hakkon must perform the rite to free him. [6]

[6] Dialogue options:

General: We can stop them. [7]

General: Or hopefully not. [8]

General: We have a target. [9]

[7] General: We can stop them.

PC: Inquisitor Ameridan saved the lowlands from an Avvar invasion. We cannot do any less. [10]

[8] General: Or hopefully not.

PC: Ideally, we stop them before that. I'd rather not fight an Avvar god if we don't have to. [10]

[9] General: We have a target.

PC: Good. We know where to strike. [10]

[10] Harding: You really have no problem with us killing your god?

Svarah: Gods cannot be reborn until they die. (Laughs.) Hakkon needs a good rebirthing.

Harding: If you say so.

Svarah: With its ice-wall melted, the fortress is open to attack. We must strike soon, before our foes recover.

Harding: They're already trying. I've got most of our forces defending the shrine from Hakkonites who want to restore the wall. [11]

[11] Dialogue options:

General: We're going to take losses. [12]

General: I'm open to ideas. [13]

General: A siege seems unlikely. [14]

[12] General: We're going to take losses.

PC: The fortress was built to be defensible. It's going to cost us a lot of people to take it.

Svarah: Why? [15]

[13] General: I'm open to ideas.

PC: If anyone has suggestions, now is the time.

Svarah: What gives you fear, Inquisitor? Is this not the battle you wanted? [15]

[14] General: A siege seems unlikely.

PC: We don't have time to drag siege equipment through the forest to take down those walls.

Svarah: A siege? Bah! We have no need of rock-throwers and rams. [15]

[15] Kenric: I am no warrior, but with Lady Harding's forces defending the shrine and no way to breach the walls...?

Svarah: (Laughs.) Lowlanders. Why not climb the walls?

Harding: Your warriors can get over those walls before the Hakkonites stop them?

Svarah: This is not a war, Stone-Daughter. This is a raid. We strike at night, clad lightly. We climb the wall and open the gate from inside. [16]

[16] Dialogue options:

General: We are in your debt. [17]

General: I guess this is our plan. [18]

General: Let's move. [19]

[17] General: We are in your debt.

PC: If Stone-Bear Hold can open the gates, we would be grateful.

Svarah: The Jaws of Hakkon have been bugs in my bedroll for months, Inquisitor. We owe you thanks. [20]

[18] General: I guess this is our plan.

PC: Well, then. Unless anyone has something that sounds easier than climbing the walls...?

Svarah: I would not offer what I could not give. It will be done. Perhaps my climbers will earn themselves a legend-mark! [20]

[19] General: Let's move.

PC: Agreed. How soon can we attack?

Svarah: As soon as the sun sets, Inquisitor. This will be a good night. [20]

[20] Harding: Inquisition forces will feign weakness near the shrine. That will draw some of them away from the fortress.

Kenric: Not too many, I hope.

Svarah: Yes. Save some for us!

Harding: (Nods.)

Part 2: Assault the gate.

(The Inquisition’s soldiers and the warriors from Stone-Bear Hold gather in front of the gate of the Tevinter ruin.)

Parve: Right, Inquisitor. Hask and I will climb over.

Hask: I'll be there to catch Parve when he slips.

Parve: 'Course you will. You'll be behind me, after all.

(These two are the same Avvar men who participated in the Test of the Lady - the climbing contest used for settling disputes - that took place when the Inquisition first arrived in Stone-Bear Hold - see “Avvar Allies” main quest.)

Hask (to Parve): 'Ware the guard.

Parve: I've got him.

(The Avvar sneak ahead and start climbing over the walls of the fortress. Meanwhile, the Inquisition leads the assault from the front to distract the Hakkonites.)

Male Hakkonite: There! It's the lowlanders!

Female Hakkonite: Kill the Inquisitor! Death to her/his hold, for Hakkon's glory!

(Storvacker joins the fight.)

Party comments:

Varric: Storvacker, good to see you again!

Dorian: And we have a bear. Hooray!

Sera: Eat them, not us! Got it?

Cole: I'm happy to see you, too!

Svarah Sun-Hair: Greetings from Stone-Bear Hold, you shit-eating goat-lovers!

(The climbers continue scaling the walls.)

Parve: Watch your grip. It slips a bit.

Hask: Bah, you can't grip anything more challenging than your mother's teat.

Parve: (Grunts.) I was aiming for his throat. We'd best hurry.

Hask: Nicely done.

Parve: Be ready, Inquisitor!

(The gate is opened from the inside by the climbers from Stone-Bear Hold.)

Hask: Lady take you, goat-lovers!

Parve (to the Inquisitor): As you please, Inquisitor.

Hask: I'd not tarry. More will be coming.

(Walk through the gate and defeat the Hakkonites defending the battlements.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: The Avvar were true to their word!

Iron Bull: Nice work, Stone-Bear Hold!

Blackwall: Your Avvar friends pulled it off!

Varric: Our Avvar friends came through!

Svarah Sun-Hair: We have your back, Inquisitor! Fight well!

Part 3: Find Inquisitor Ameridan’s resting place.

(Walk towards the Tevinter ruin.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: No sign of the dragon. It must be in there.

Cole: She doesn't want to be him. He doesn't want to be chained. Tied together, wracked and raging.

Solas: The ritual must be underway. There is a great deal of magical energy coming from the bottom of the crater.

(There are ice wards in the field between the gate and the main building. If destroyed, they freeze everyone in the vicinity.)

Party comments:

Dorian: Watch the wards! We can't afford to be slowed down!

Vivienne: Watch out for the ice wards! We cannot let them slow us!

Sera: Pissing freezing magic!

Solas: Beware the wards! They will sap your strength!

(An ice ward is destroyed.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: The ward is destroyed!

Iron Bull: How do you like that, frosty?

Blackwall: That should end the wards!

Cole: You can't freeze us!

(Enter the Old Temple. The interior is covered in frost.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: This frost is magical in nature. If we do not make haste, we will freeze to death.

Cassandra: This cold is magical in origin. It will kill us if we do not hurry.

Sera: We stay here, our bits will snap off. Get moving.

Solas: The cold is magical. It will kill us if we do not hurry.

Cole: This isn't real, but it still hurts. We have to be fast.

Dorian: Even colder than usual. This is magical. We need to keep moving.

Varric: This isn't natural. We'd better hurry, unless you like freezing to death.

(Stay by the fire to warm up.)

Party comments:

Sera: Better, right? Might even keep our toes.

Iron Bull: (Grunts.) Cold's not so bad here.

Varric: The cold isn't so bad here.

Cole: Yes. False cold, but the real fire keeps it away.

(Gurd Harofsen begins the ritual.)

Party comments:

Varric: We should probably hurry. There's no good kind of crazy ritual chanting.

Vivienne: They are performing the ritual. I suggest we hurry.

Solas: We must hurry. The ritual to free the spirit of Hakkon is underway.

Dorian: Sounds like they've already started the ritual. Best hurry, then.

(Gurd chants the Song of savage Hakkon.)

Sing the song of savage Hakkon, born in battle, bloody bladed.

Wintersbreath to wrack the lowlands, cold to cut and kill the hated.

Meet the might of Mountain-Father, crush the creed of Korth the callow.

Leave the Lady lost and lonely, scour the skies of spirits sallow!

Gurd Harofsen, called the Cutter, wyvern-slayer, lowland-bane

Begs of Hakkon, bring his body bloody blessings, cold and pain!

(The chant ends.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: The barbarian is allowing himself to be possessed by Hakkon!

Solas: The Hakkonite leader is calling the spirit of Hakkon into his own body!

Varric: Harofsen's summoning Hakkon into himself!

Dorian: He's summoning Hakkon into his own body!

Cassandra: Is he insane?

Iron Bull: Who does that? That's a terrible idea!

Blackwall: He's mad!

Sera: Don't care. Stupid gets arrows.

(A dragon can be seen in the distance.)

Party comments:

Sera: There's the dragon! It's... frozen or something?

Cole: The dragon. She's stuck, still, a statue. Hakkon is angry inside her.

Varric: There's the Hakkon dragon! At least it's not moving yet.

Iron Bull: There's the dragon! Long as it holds still like that, we should be all right.

(The fight begins. Gurd continues the ritual while being protected by Hakkonites.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: Hakkon is invulnerable until we disrupt those around him!

Solas: We cannot harm Hakkon until the ritual is disrupted!

Cassandra: We must disrupt the ritual first! Then Hakkon can be harmed!

Dorian: We have to take out the others! We can't hurt Hakkon until they're out!

(Gurd summons the spirit of Hakkon into himself and transforms into a revenant.)

Gurd: Face me and die, Inquisitor! Your predecessor could not stand against me. You shall fall as well! I am the cold bite of winter! I am Hakkon reborn! Death to the lowlanders!

(The revenant casts powerful ice spells.)

Party comments:

Sera: Ranged, right? Too cold up close!

Cassandra: The cold is worse near the creature!

Blackwall: The cold gets worse the closer you are!

Iron Bull: Careful! Cold's worse up close!

(During the fight, the revenant freezes the braziers as he loses health.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: He's putting out the fires!

Varric: Watch yourself! He's putting out the fires!

Dorian: The damn thing's dousing the fires!

Solas: Be careful! He's dousing the fires!

(Next quest - Ameridan's End: Talk to Ameridan)

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antihero-writings · 4 years

Text

The Offspring of a Dream

Fandom: Bloodborne

Fic Summary: Why does the Doll call you “good”?

Notes:

Obviously the lore in this game is very hidden and up for interpretation, so this fic in part has to do with my personal interpretation of things, so please keep that in mind! I know there's a theory about the Doll being a Great One/Avatar out there (haven't read up about it much through), but currently I find there's something rather beautiful about the Doll truly just being a doll, who is genuinely kind, and just trying to help us out, because the game has little to no other characters like that. I also know whether or not we are "good" is definitely up for great debate, but I'm the kind of person who likes to see/read redemption into everything, so this is just my rather optimistic interpretation of events.

Also, I don't necessarily ship the Hunter and the Doll, but I do think it's a cute ship and enjoy content for it...So you're free to interpret the internal monologue as platonic or romantic, whichever you prefer.

This is one of the only times I've used second person, so go easy on me...I chose second person because I didn't find third or first nearly as compelling for it.

I'd really really appreciate it if you could leave a comment!! They seriously do make my week, and give me the motivation to keep writing!!

I also have another Bloodborne fic about Vicar Amelia's transformation, I'd love it if you could check that out too!! Links in a reblog!!

The Offspring of a Dream:

“New Hunter”

“Mister Hunter”

“Hunter”

“A Hunter!”

“Moon-Scented Hunter”

“Miss Hunter!”

“Good Hunter of the Church,

"have you seen the thread of light?”

“Welcome home,

Good Hunter.

What is it you desire?”—

No name.

Not a greeting, nor title.

No adjectives or addendums like ‘holy’ or ‘accursed,’ ‘beast,’ or ‘man.’ Not a crow, or a wolf, or an avenger, or a knight. Nor a roar of what you hunted.

A lonely hunter without a name, or a word.

Just a hunter, who may or may not be good.

And it was a doll, a doll who had a dreamer, but was equally lonely—

Is this all in my mind? Did I dream her up?

It was this Doll who said you were good, every time you arrived in the dream, always ready to turn your desires, the echoes of a scourge, into strength.

She said it faithfully, and it was not easy to recognize when she said it, it wasn’t a greeting, or a title.

It was a prayer.

Because she had watched a thousand “good hunters” walk through the dream, and a thousand fall. A thousand keep her company, a thousand ask for her to make them stronger with the echoes of their killing. A thousand become drunk with blood, trapped in a very different dream, that some might call nightmare. And a thousand become something other than a hunter…something other than good.

A thousand graves.

Graves for the ones who woke up.

So with a title she prayed to the moon that this one—this one—would be good.

That’s all she needed. That’s all any of them ever needed; one good man.

The title ‘hunter’ was meant to be synonymous with good. A force of holiness to purge the impurity. …But their name became equivalent with evil. Or maybe it was from the very start.

The spreading corruption burned.

Before the blood parched their lips and ravaged their bones. After. At the end of the day, we’re all human. At the end of the day, we’re all beasts.

Born of the blood… undone by the blood…

So she—inhuman, human—she prayed that one day there would be a hunter who could fight the monsters and not become one. That the blood wouldn’t burn and coil and wrap its tendrils around them, twist them inside out, and make them something more than just a “good hunter”…and so much less. She cast goodness over you, as if reminding you not to give in to the beast. Not to give in to your humanity. Reminding you that though you were a hunter, though you were drenched in blood, with heart full of holes, and brain full of eyes, you could still be good.

She put her hands together and she prayed. She prayed, and she helped you on your journey, she channeled death into strength, she whispered, and she tended to frail, living flowers, and feeble, dying, old men, and she cried.

Any god-fearing man, not burdened with an overabundance of naiveté, would know that dolls don’t whisper. They don’t ask if you love them. They don’t move. They can’t help. They don’t pray. And they definitely don’t cry.

Dolls sit lifeless on the floors of children’s nurseries, and the abandoned workshops of bitter, maniacal, old men.

Is this just a dream? Will I know you when I wake?

What’s waking worth without you?

If the gods don’t love me I still promise to love you.

You watched human hands twist into claws, skin into fur, faces into tentacles, tongues into snakes, and eyes into eyes, and wondered if perhaps this doll, with her porcelain skin and hair, with her tears and prayer, if she was more human than the rest. This doll—who asked about gods and love, who cared for you, who hoped even the worst hunters might be worth something in another, better world—was more human than the offspring of an old, forgotten town. More human than we, who are born and die by the blood.

How was she born, and how would she die? What caused her to breathe, to come alive? Was it just our minds, some ill-gotten, internal eyes? Was something so primitive as hope or love? Or was it the twisted will of some faceless moon without a man in it?

Is it just me?

Is it my mind?

Tell me she’s more than children’s toys, and old men’s dreams.

Tell me she’s real.

Could something made of metal and mechanics, and the puppet strings of our own minds die?

Do dreams die when we wake up?

Or, in the end when men are all either monsters or gods, would she stand in the wreckage, the only real, awake thing left…the only thing left that’s still human?

When men become gods, do our creations become human?

She watched them fall. She watched them reach for bare threads of guiding moonlight with human hands, and howl at the same moon with a wolf’s cry, and she still had enough hope left in her to call you “good hunter.” To believe that you would be different.

Did she say this to everyone? Did she hope every time? Or was it just you? And which meant more? If she hoped despite just how many had failed, or if she saw something different within you alone?

Here you stood, steeped in the blood of beasts. Ugly thing. Killer. Cold and merciless.

And she called you good.

Did that mean she saw the blood, and the murder, and thought it was good? Or that she looked past all that and saw the good still?

How could she, a doll, an echo herself, know what it meant to be good?

Perhaps she was made by someone who had seen a world with good left in it. Or a world which was evil, but in which there was someone like her, who encompassed all the good in the world to him.

Perhaps that’s what she was to you too. The good. The human left. Without her you may never keep fighting. You had no one else, after all. Your friends were either mad, or intoxicated, or destined to die, or destined for…worse.

Is she just a trick of the moonlight?

She was the embodiment of hope.

You tried to be good. For her. For the world. They all did. But most became drunk on blood, or knowledge, and lost themselves along the way.

What is it you desire?

It always starts good. Goals, on paper, always seem so noble. In practice, so bloodthirsty.

Laurence made a church. A force of holiness and healing. And he turned the city into a madhouse, a cage for monsters.

Wilhelm made a school. A place of mindfulness and learning. And he dabbled in rituals to hide the moon.

The old hunters thought stealing a child wouldn’t incite the wrath of its mother.

They all thought the world could be saved, that the plague could end through quarantine or amputation.

When they cut off the diseased heads the blood only spread. When they stayed in their houses they went insane instead.

The world needed more than a simple fix to return to being “good.”

The hunters thought they were fighting for a noble cause. They thought they were all good…and they turned into the very beasts they fought, awaiting another hunter to spill their blood, and start the cycle again.

The hunters only did what they could; keep killing. That was all they knew to do to get rid of the the beasts in this brick forest.

They needed a hunter who would break the cycle. Do more than just kill and give in to the call of the blood. Who would seek the paleblood, and end this dreadful night.

Transcend the hunt.

But how to eclipse the chase when evolution without courage is the name of ruin?

A hunter who would look beyond today’s night, today’s hunt, today’s beasts. Beyond the blood. Resist its seduction. A hunter who could learn where all this started, find it. And do what hunters do best:

Kill it.

—(For sometimes death is freedom, at least when it’s a dream)—

Seek the paleblood. Hunt the great ones.

—(And sometimes waking up is far worse.)

The formless blood wanted to have a child. Perhaps he thought he was giving those he chose a gift of a sort. Only horror followed.

Every great one loses its child.

One particular woman, long ago, held the name of this broken town. Perhaps it was only fitting that the child of blood and name was born in voice alone.

This child’s formless cries echoed through more than the nightmare; through the waking world—(if you had enough eyes, at least)—calling you to comfort it, to silence it.

Could everyone in the town hear it? Is that what drove them mad? Listening to a child’s endless cries, with no hope of comforting it?

Many had tried to contact it. Some tried to become gods…and misplaced their minds in the process. But you found it. Knowing it was not to be exalted, but destroyed.

You were a hunter after all.

So you killed the only thing keeping it alive, the thing desperately trying to play a lullaby and sing it to sleep.

You yourself played a tiny music box for it, from the beginning of it all—that belonged to a family ravaged by the blood, the hunt, which held a song about love and loss—just to hear it laugh, before the nightmare let out it last.

Cords of thirds. Cords of three.

One from the child of voice. One from the child of night. One from the child stolen long ago, sitting in an old, abandoned workshop.

A workshop alive now only in hunters’ dreams.

You could have left your own nightmare long ago. You could have woken from this dream and believed the world was not so dark, not so strange, not so fascinating.

But this wasn’t the only nightmare you had to liberate.

There was another, another for which all not-so-good hunters were destined—(and thus you too if the Doll’s prayers were in vain). They sent you there with a piece of a drunken man before you yourself became, inevitably, intoxicated, in this bloody bar, so that you could, perhaps navigate sleeping minds with your sanity in tact.

We, the offspring of an old, forgotten secret. Destined and bound by the chase.

So our forefathers sinned?

Ludwig thought he was holy, fighting for a noble cause, and he stood, accursed, in a bath of the blood he spilled, trampling the ghosts of those he killed.

Is it possible there exist moonlight in even the darkest nights?

When we reach for the thread of light, none of us ever want to know what it truly is. Hope can be so vicious that way.

The church turned their eyes from their hands.

All too often, when men try to become gods—or something akin—they become monsters. There's a reason the moon is out of our reach.

Laurence thought the blood would heal. That the gods wouldn’t mind a little thievery. He thought they could keep their humanity in tact, as long as they prayed hard enough.

And he watched the world burn. Watched his hope turn his universe into a waking, walking nightmare. And he burned in his own broken Neverland, ever searching for his own lost, rotted humanity.

Maria, beloved apprentice Maria—

…Is that you, my dear Doll?

Who was there from the beginning. Who vowed to forsake the blood—including her own. Maria, so sickened by her actions, who threw the hunt down a well. Who vowed to in death to be the hunt’s secret keeper, and sat, alone, a lonely princess at the top of the clock tower, alive by the puppet strings of a nightmare—

She sacrificed herself, her values, to purge you from the plague of wild curiosity.

A corpse should be left well enough alone.

And at last, behind time, was a quaint, sad, little village, that lay dripping with secrets, ransacked for its eyes.

A quaint little village where it all started. Where the sky wept, and sun collapsed in on itself, and the great lake held too soft and depraved a secret.

Every great one loses its child…but this one lost his mother.

A quaint little village where a sympathetic mother fell from the stars. Where her child was ripped from her, dissected for parts, by the very people you once thought were good.

The wrath of an angry god is to be feared. But the wrath of a sympathetic god is far worse.

And the wrath of a mother is a lasting curse.

Death is freedom, at least in a dream. But when waking up is far worse, we rewrite the past within our dreams.

This was an orphans dream, pulling the hunt into a nightmare, as he waited to be freed from reality, as he waited for a hunter to rewrite the sins of their ancestors.

As he waited for a good man.

And the spirit thanked you. And the hunt thanked you.

And the Doll thanked you, for a shackle she never even knew was there had been lifted. She thanked you on behalf of the first hunter, for he slept a little sounder.

But there was one last dream that needed slaying:

Your own.

You could have woken long ago. You could have forsaken it all for the sunrise, and left someone else to find the answers, left someone else to be good.

It would have been nice to believe the world made sense.

It would have been nice to believe the dark side of the moon wasn’t made of blood and bones, haunting a poor, old man.

Few dreams offer you the choice to die before the bad part starts—(or perhaps simply to put an end to all the ‘bad parts’ you’ve gone through, to negate the possibility of more). But you would not bow to a happy, false reality.

Neither would you allow yourself to be taken captive by the nameless presence of the moon, made to perpetuate this hunt endlessly.

You understood the word “hunter” was never synonymous with good. They lost that title before the hunt even started. They lost that title when a little orphan was stolen from his mother.

You understood at last. It was her. Maria. The one who threw her weapon down the well in protest. She—(or at least, a version of her)—stood by your side, trying to guide you back all this time. Trying to guide you back to the beginning, where perhaps her sins could be atoned for. Where perhaps there could be good still.

So in a lonely field full of flowers, it was not you who were released from the dream.

You had enough eyes to see and slay the presence of the moon, who had orchestrated this all.

We’re all just puppets of the moon.

…But a cord of three strands is not so easily broken.

So in the end you neither woke nor dreamed, but saw the world as it was—though through newborn eyes. A child of the hunt. A child of the dream. Not destined to create a nightmare…but perhaps a better reality.

When the Doll picked up your small body, she smiled at last. She knew you’d succeeded, for this was unlike any hunter’s death, or transformation, she knew. She knew you’d atoned for the sins of your predecessors. She knew you’d freed the children, the nightmares, and the men.

And she called you “good hunter” still. For she knew the gods listened to her prayers after all. She knew that though you were a hunter no more—

You were certainly good.

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delicatelyherdreams · 4 years

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Pragma(tic) 3: Her Head Aches

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 3758

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 2: He Becomes a Trespasser

Landing on your front stoop once more, you felt thoroughly exhausted and exasperated. You’d used all the energy you had stored for dealing with the living and you weren’t going to need to interact with anyone outside of the Underworld for a year or two at that point. Brunch had been nice, but then dealing with that James? Oh boy, were you spent!

You still couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to come down to the Underworld. You’d heard of mortals and younger gods being naive, but that was a whole new level of idiocy. And for what? A simple ruby?

You heaved a labored sigh and turned to look over your kingdom. You hadn’t gotten the chance to reapply any spells to your father’s cage in your mad dash to save the young prince of spring, and now it was just another thing to do on your list. Gods, that incident had really screwed up your schedule.

From your spot on the mountain, you could see two figures making a beeline through the Asphodel Meadows from Tartarus: a large dog and a woman. The woman was running frantically, keeping pace with the dog.

Your stomach plummeted. Crap. You’d forgotten you’d sent Cerberus to get Peggy. They’d probably gone back to the cave and didn’t find you there. You could only imagine how worried they were when you were missing.

Peggy and Cerberus quickly scaled the steep steps that led up to your mansion, the elevation and distance being nothing to them.

Peggy barely stopped in front of you and she grabbed onto your wrists, lifting them up to inspect your body. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice coated in her British accent (she’d spent quite a bit of time in London from the 1920s to the 1940s and the accent had stuck and never left). Her brown eyes scanned every detail of your face, checking for any traces of golden ichor.

You let her do her work, simply nodding your head and saying, “I’m fine, Peggy.”

“When Cerberus came barging into my home without you… I thought he’d gotten you.”

You shook your head. “My father would have a hell of a time corrupting me, Peg. No, what had happened was some idiotic god wandered down here and had gotten stuck in Tartarus. The spirits had him and I’d thought something bigger was going on. That’s why I sent Cerberus for you. But nothing is the matter. I dealt with it.”

“Some god?” Her brows furrowed. “But how would he have—” She narrowed her eyes. “The Dikteon Cave.”

“Bingo.”

“But I’d thought we’d closed the rift the best we could and layered on protection warrants.”

“We did,” you confirmed. “But gods, if they’re determined enough, can still slip in.”

“What did he want?”

“A ruby. Probably to amaze and impress some girl.” You rolled your eyes and waved your hand dismissively. “But I took care of him. Sent him home to his chaperones and gave him the chastising of his life. He won’t be back any time soon.”

Peggy nodded, her gaze shifting from you to the cave on the other side of your kingdom. “Did you get a chance to…?”

“No. I need to go do that now.”

“Do you want me to come too?”

“No. You can stay here. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be coming back shortly after for a drink.”

She couldn’t stop the snicker that fell from her lips. “Something strong?”

“Nah. Probably just some wine mixed with nectar. Can you crack out the 1918 Cabernet Sauvignon for me? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Of course. Just promise me you won’t drink the whole bottle this time?”

“Ah, I can’t do that, Peg.” You gave her a sly smile. “After dealing with my sisters, an imbecile, and my father, I might just need to get wasted. But that’s why I have you; to make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”

“Mhmm. Sure. Come on, Cerberus,” she said, beckoning your dog to follow her into your house.

He followed after her, his tail wagging with excitement at the idea of hanging out with Aunt Peggy.

As the door closed behind them, you descended the staircase to the ground at the foot of the mountain and made your way over to the cave. Your bident materialized in your hand as you went, driving the spirits away from you.

Tartarus was as cold as ever, making you shiver and goosebumps rise up on your skin. It was empty and evil and it made your heart spasm, but you had to go on. You made your way through the cave, following the tunnel until it opened up. The pit sat in the middle of the chasm; wide, expansive, deep, and extensive. The Phlegethon ran down into it, illuminating the walls of the pit until it was swallowed up by nothingness. You never liked to get too close to the edge, so you stood a good five feet away. Staring down into the pitch-black beneath you, you thought you could almost make out the bottom, but you knew that was impossible. It was too deep to see the bottom from up there.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You had a task to do, and nothing was going to distract you from completing it.

You began to mumble spells in a tongue so dead that you barely remembered the meaning of the words you spoke. It was the language of the first titans, taught to you by your mother. The words coming out of your mouth conveyed your wishes to bind, to entrap, to keep, and to lock away. They came from the ancient magic you had used when you sealed your father away the first time.

Your voice trickled down into the pit, the power it held no doubt soaring to the cage your father lay trapped in and strengthening, replacing, and adding to the protection around it. It wouldn’t take more than five seconds for your spells to reach their destination. You could always tell when they started to work because someone would answer.

Sure enough, a cold chuckle echoed out of the pit and a snide voice said, “Well, if it isn’t my favorite daughter. You’re a bit late today, aren’t you? Did something happen? Are you finally going soft on me?” His tone was mocking and not concerned in the least bit.

You stiffened but continued to murmur your spells. You hated it when he tried to talk to you. It only distracted you, but you knew that was his goal. He always tried to disrupt your enchantments in hopes that he could weaken his cage.

Deep, booming laughter rang out of the pit, shaking the cave ever so slightly. “Why do you never talk to me, my daughter? It’s so lonely down here. If you insist on seeing me so often, you might as well make conversation.”

Ignore him.

You closed your eyes, blocking out everything other than the rituals you performed, muttering those words that had become second nature to you, trying to hurry up and finish. The sooner you could get out of there, the better.

“How was your day? I heard a commotion coming from the cave earlier. Were the spirits finally rebelling against you? Have you lost your touch?”

You exhaled sharply.

“How is your mother doing? She never visits me. My darling, traitorous wife, who decided she loved her children more than me. Speaking of them, how are my other daughters? Are they reveling in the kingdom they stole from my brothers and me?” You could feel the malice in his words. There was always malice and hatred when he talked about you, your mother, and your sisters. He despised you with every ounce of his being, though he would always claim differently.

“You know, my love, if you were to release me, I could do so much for you. I never hated you. I was only afraid of you. You were destined to overthrow me and I couldn’t let that happen. That’s why I had to eat you. But I’m so sorry. If you were to set me free, I could be the father you always wanted. I know you, (y/n). I heard all your cries and pleading. I know you only wanted a father; know you wanted me to be a father for you. I know you wanted us to be a family. We can be that now. All you have to do is stop with your spells and set me free. You can do it. I know you can. I can give you all the love you craved. Just let me go.”

You refused, your voice growing in volume and intensity.

His anger rose from the pit, trying to grasp onto you. “Let me go! Release me!” He was done with bargaining for the day, turning to demanding and threatening. “I will kill you, (y/n). You’ll see. One day I will get out of here and when I do, you will be the first to feel my wrath. I will lock you in my cage, torment you with your failure, and keep you imprisoned for all eternity. You will never have known pain like the pain I will give to you.”

Blah blah blah.

You’d heard it all before, and, frankly, it was getting old.

You finished your spell, casting the last enchantment and finishing with your weekly ritual.

You could hear Kronos groan as his restraints tightened. You took a deep breath and leaned forward, looking over the edge and staring into the pit, a satisfied smile on your face. “Not today, old man,” you whispered before turning your back to him and walking out of the cave towards your mansion.

Peggy was sitting on a long couch in the lounge that sat just right of the entryway. Black furniture adorned the room with a single crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting light over the space. A long black couch faced a wall of windows that overlooked Elysium. A low black coffee table which sat in the middle of the room acted as the focal point for a comfy armchair you had picked up decades ago and still loved, the long black couch, and a fireplace that burned with red flames on the other wall in the room. A wine glass filled with red wine that was tinted with the unmistakable gold of nectar sat on the coffee table and a large television was mounted to the wall above the fireplace. It was on low, a mortal sitcom of sorts playing. You couldn’t be bothered to learn its name, and it seemed that Peggy only had it on for background noise. Her attention was otherwise diverted to the dog whose head was on her lap.

She rubbed at his ears absently, only looking up when you closed the front door behind you. Her brows were creased and her lips taut with worry. “Are you alright?” she asked again, like she did every time you came home from the pit.

“Will be after a drink.” You took a seat in your armchair and reached forward for the glass of wine on the coffee table. The glass was chilled against your fingertips—you always did like your drinks “as cold as your heart”—and you lifted it up to your lips. The sweet taste of nectar mixed with rich wine filled your mouth and you swallowed it eagerly.

Peggy eyed you with a sharp laugh. “If you’re not careful, the other gods might think you’re an alcoholic.”

“Meh, they’ve had two thousand years to call me one. If they haven’t done it by now, they won’t ever do it.” You sighed and shifted in your chair, shrugging your shoulders and straightening up. “Now, do you want to hear about my day or not?”

She snickered, only resting her elbow on the arm of the couch and her chin in the palm of her hand. “Sure. You tell me all about your day. How’re your sisters?”

“Same as always,” you said with a fond smile. “Carol is still pretending to be the eldest and is still a great queen, Nat is still a smart ass but great. They’re still my family.”

“Mhmm. And, now will you tell me a bit about this god that got into Tartarus. You said he used the Dikteon Cave?”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “James, god of spring. Demeter’s kid.”

“Demeter? (y/n), she has a real name you know. It’s Win—”

“Winnifred,” you finished. “Yeah, I know. He corrected me too.” You shrugged. “But, frankly, I don’t give a damn. If it pisses her off to call her Demeter, then great. It’s not like she’s going to hate me less for calling her by her real name.”

You and Winnifred went way back. She was almost as old as you were but fell short by just a century or two. She was the goddess of agriculture and the harvest and pretty much the protector of all life. She was kind to most of the Olympians; strict and stern if anything, but kind nonetheless. She was usually polite so long as you were kind back, but she was also really protective of her charges and plants. Naturally, she hated you. Why wouldn’t she? You were the goddess of the Underworld; you oversaw anything and everything death related. She blamed you exclusively for the death of her plants and all the life on earth (despite your attempts to explain to her that you were not the goddess of death and instead just ran the Underworld and those who were actually dead). She seemed to believe that you were pure evil and had a personal vendetta against her. She hated you.

You didn't care much for her either. Ever since she decided it was your fault that plants died and harvests were bad, she’d been nothing but a bitch to you. You were not one to take anybody’s shit without a fight and so you weren’t the nicest back to her. But if she was hell-bent on being on your bad side and treating you poorly, then you weren’t going to bend over backward to be nice to her. If she was going to be mean, you were going to be mean back. After all, you shouldn’t have to deal with that. You were a queen, one of the original three gods, and she was just some second-generation goddess with a fragile ego that was easily threatened.

“Anyways,” Peggy said, diverting the conversation away from Demeter and turning it back to her son, “you found him at Tartarus and kicked him out?”

You nodded. “I also might’ve threatened him, but that’s beside the point.”

“You what?”

You laughed as you looked around the room for the bottle of wine. Your glass had run empty and you wanted some more. You spotted it back on the rack and held out your hand in its direction. Moving on its own accord, it plucked itself from the rack and floated into your waiting hand. You uncorked it and began to pour yourself another glass. “Relax. You know I’d never follow through with it. Torture is so not my style. I just scared the kid. Whatever the case, I think I did the trick. Hopefully, he’ll never come back. But now we’ve got a perimeter issue on our hands.” You brought your glass to your lips and tilted your head back, taking another sip. “He got in way too easily. Some of our charms must be wearing off. We’re going to have to redo those. If something as menial as a young god can get in, then who knows what else can.”

“You’re not thinking…?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “The remaining titans—Helios, Atlas, Epimetheus, among others—they’re either loyal to us or trapped in their own special prisons. But who knows?” Your brows knit together. “One day they might decide that they wanna break their fathers out of jail and mine right along with them. One day they might decide that they’re above the gods, rebel, break out of prison, set the old titans free.” Your lips formed a thin line and your hand tightened into a fist. “They’re stronger than gods, they could break in through the cave easier.”

“So what do you plan on doing?”

“I dunno. More charms. New charms?” You snickered to yourself and looked out towards Elysium. “Maybe pull some of the old warriors from paradise to be on guard duty if they want it. Just imagine it: arming a bunch of dead guys with weapons from their time and putting them in armor. Ha! The old guys would get a hoot out of that.”

Peggy hummed with a smile. “Yes, I could imagine old Magnus from the Roman era and Eddie from 1942 pairing up together for guard duty. Frankly, I think the men would enjoy a little spice in life. I’d ask them if they’d be willing. It might throw any intruders off their rhythm if they were met with a small militia of ghosts.”

You stared at her, your eyebrows raised and an amused smile playing on your lips. “Did you just reference John Mulaney?”

“Well, I suppose I did.” She smirked at you. “You’re not the only one who can make pop culture references.”

You chuckled. “I guess you’re right.”

She opened her mouth to make another comment, but she was cut off by a thud overhead. The impact of something hitting the roof rattled the chandelier, causing the crystals to cling together and ring out over the silence.

A slow smile crept over your lips and you leaned back in your chair. “It seems we have a visitor, Peg.”

She nodded, a smile to match yours taking over her own face. “He’s never here at this time. He must want something.”

You snorted. “Yeah, no joke.”

Knuckles rapped against the front door, the visitor’s way of asking for entry.

“It’s open!” you called, turning your torso to face the door.

It swung open to reveal a taller man, with brown hair, a slight stubble, and blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. He was dressed in dark pants and a tight black, short sleeve shirt with arm-guards strapped to his forearms. A quiver of arrows and a bow were slung haphazardly across his back. He wore a lopsided grin and tilted his head to the side. “Morning, ladies,” he said, his demeanor nothing but cheery. “D’you miss me?”

“Clint!” Peggy cheered, her smile only widening at the sight of him. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“Heya, Pegs. If I’d known you were going to be here, I would’ve brought you flowers or something.” He sauntered into the lounge and stole a seat next to her.

Cerberus barked at him, his tail wagging with excitement. He turned his head from Peggy and trotted over to Clint.

Clint’s eyes brightened at the sight of your dog. “Hey, boy! Gods, you’ve gotten so big, haven’t you?” He ran his hands through Cerberus’ fur, knotting his fingers in it and shaking his head. “I want a dog like you so badly, but Laura says no.”

You hummed. “M’sorry, Clint, but Cerberus is the only one of his kind. I don’t know of any other dogs that can grow to the size of a mountain with three heads. He’s unique, and he’s mine.” You turned your gaze down to him. “Aren’t you, boy? Aren’t you mine?”

He pulled away from Clint before dashing over to your side and plopping his head down in your lap.

Content to pet your dog and stroke his fur, you once more looked up at Clint. “Well, I like a surprise visit from our favorite messenger god as much as anybody, but I do have to ask what catastrophic event brings you to my door at this time? You never come unless you’re having trouble with a spirit or you want to use the damned for target practice. Considering the fact that it’s Pierce’s day to reap and you just got some target practice in, I’m assuming it’s neither of those; but then I have no reason for your being here.”

“You’ve got me. I’m not here for either of those reasons, but just to satisfy my curiosity.”

“About what?”

“Oh, about whether or not you kidnapped a certain god of spring.”

You sneered. “Is that what the rumors are?”

He nodded reluctantly. “Look, (y/n), I know you’re a good person and you’d probably never do something like that, but the sprites are talking and I wanted to get the story from you so I can go and squash those rumors before his mom hears them. You know that she’s not pretty when she’s angry.”

“And you know that she is practically powerless against me and is no threat.” You wrinkled your nose and rolled your eyes in a scoff. “I did not kidnap him, the idiot came down here of his own will. I rescued him from Tartarus and threw his ass out. He has no place down here and I will not tolerate trespassers, no exceptions.”

Peggy snorted.

“What?”

“No exceptions? Really?” She turned towards you and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Need I remind you about that Orpheus fellow?”

“Hey, that was a special case ‘cause I was feeling generous. Never again.” You shook your head. “Clint, you can go back and use your Hermes-voodoo-messenger skills to tell the nymphs and sprites and whoever that has the audacity to accuse me of kidnapping that he came down here himself and I will not be subject to false accusations and lies. Also, tell them not to gossip and spread rumors. It’s not good for the soul. I should know. I just inspected one earlier and—oof—did that soul gossip a lot.”

Clint let out a hearty chuckle. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along.” He leaned back in his seat, lifting his arms over his head in a large stretch. “Gah! How quickly do you want this message spread?”

“ASAP, Clint. I don’t want anyone thinking the borders are going soft or that they can just waltz on in and do whatever they please. That is not how I run my kingdom and that is not how I will ever run my kingdom. Peggy and I are taking certain precautions, and there will never, ever, be another invasion again.”

Next 4: His Mind Runs Wild

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 4 years

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Banished (Part 38)

*Not my Gif*

~Banished Master~

Summary: When the 100 was sent to the ground, Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. Having been locked up for almost 8 years, how will she react to surviving on Earth? Especially when she gets banished…

Post Date: 3-21-20

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Word Count: 6.5K (wait... what?)

~Master~

~The 100 Master~

*Based off episode 3x09 of the 100, Stealing Fire*

Previously…

“Y/N YL/N, for the crimes of treason, kidnapping, and attempted murder,” Bellamy found himself standing straighter, his hands falling to his sides fast when he took a step forward, mentally pleading that Pike wouldn’t finished his sentence. That you’d get one more chance. That this wasn’t the end for you. “I hereby sentence you to death.”

Bellamy couldn’t breathe.

You didn’t move. You didn’t blink. You didn’t protest or say anything. Bellamy couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to believe that after everything this was how it was going to end, with him watching a pair of guards hoist you to your feet and out the room, straight into the cell without a second word.

Bellamy brought a hand to his face, wiping beneath his eyes because he could’ve sworn his were watery. “Sir we’re killing our own people now?” Bellamy asked Pike the moment your body was pulled from the room. Pike sighed, putting his hands on his hips under his jacket as he looked at him.

“We’re at war. Crimes against leadership won’t be tolerated.”

“And she dies to be an example?” Bellamy lowered his voice, hoping the new level will keep him from showing his emotions but Pike saw right through him. The older man spared a glance to the door.

“Y/N’s actions put this whole camp at risk. I know what she means to you,” Bellamy adverted his eyes. “But am I making an example of her? Damn right I am, and I hope their executions make it clear where our people’s allegiances lie.” He finished as Bellamy quirked a brow.

“Their?”

Pike nodded, moving amongst the room to the door before looking back. “Their. Kane and Sinclair were in on this, they will be examples as well.” Bellamy’s eyes widened as Pike straightened his back. “Do I make myself clear?” Bellamy didn’t know what to do, but ultimately, he hesitated before nodding. Pike held the door open for him, dismissing him as Bellamy shuffled out fast. As soon as he left, he went looking for Monty, trying to think of how to reverse this whole situation.

Kane was pacing back and forth in the cell, Sinclair watching him the whole time until the door to the open to show you being escorted by 4 guards, two of them holding your biceps. You tried to pull yourself free from them briefly, but they held on strong and soon you gave up, closing your eyes before hearing Kane say your name.

You looked up, seeing all the grounders looking at you as well as Sinclair and Kane himself. You were shoved into the cell rather harshly as you glared at the man to your right. He didn’t say anything, just unlocking your hands and closing the door behind you. Kane was the first to step forward, his mouth opening to say something, but you just shook your head.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I failed.” Your voice cracked as Kane finished off the final distance, pulling you into his embrace. You let him wrap his arms around you and you tucked your head against his chest, feeling him hold his hand against the back of your head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay Y/N.” He said as you nodded against him, not coming out of his embrace as you looked up at him.

“I’m being executed.” you told him. Kane felt like he was punched in the stomach as his hold on you tightened. He licked his lip, glancing around him at all the crestfallen people around him. You didn’t need him to say anything for you to know he had no clue what to do.

You messed up.

You should’ve killed Pike.

You messed everything up.

Bellamy and Monty stood in the hallways of the ark. “What happened in there?” Monty asked Bellamy who placed his hands on his hips, his eyes wide as he liked his lips.

“They’re gonna execute her. They’re gonna execute Y/N. Kane, Sinclair, and Lincoln too.” He told Monty who sighed, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

“We have to do something. I mean, Sinclair, Kane, even Lincoln are one thing, but Y/N? I mean she’s one of us. She’s practically family now.” Monty said and Bellamy ignored the way his chest clenched at his words because to him, Monty was right. He wasn’t going to let this happen. “What about Harper and Miller?” Monty questioned, thinking about the last two of your accomplices. No sooner than he got the words out did Hannah, his mother, came through the set of doors next to them, stopping their conversation.

“Nicely done today.” She told them both with a smile that Bellamy wanted to peal off her face. In no way what today was nice. Were you able to identify anyone Kane and Y/N were working with?” Monty slowly looked up at her as Bellamy almost immediately answered a no, making Hannah eye him curiously. Monty followed with his eyes before shaking his head, lying to his own mother. Hannah knew something was up, but looked past it, reminding them about the correct sides of this war. “It’s not hard choosing what’s best for your people, isn’t it?”

Bellamy looked at her, biting the inside of his cheek as he again answered with a slight shake of his head. “No. I do it every day.” He spoke, similar words to his ordeals earlier but this time his ‘people’ were different. This time he was going to whatever was best for you. Because to him, right now you were the only ‘people’ that mattered.

Back in Polis, things have been going down since Lexa’s death. Clarke and Murphy were stuck in Polis thanks to the blockade and at the sound of a horn echoing throughout the city, they knew the conclave was to begin. The bed in the room was still covered in Lexa’s blood, slowly dripping onto the floor as Clarke stared at it. Murphy watched from across the room as Clarke seemed to snap out of her daze, pulling her eyes away from her love’s blood and pounding on the door.

“Clarke.” Murphy said in between her pounds as they stopped. “I’m sorry. I knew how much she meant to you.” He apologized, thinking about the prospect of finding Emori, the girl had grown to care about being in the same situation.

Clarke didn’t spare the boy a glance as she deflected her emotions. “This isn’t about me. We have to make sure Aden wins this conclave.” The door opened as Titus walked through it, barely glancing up as Murphy scoffed.

“What, you come here to finish the job?” Murphy asked bitterly, subconsciously talking a step back as he remembers all the torture ensued at Titus’ hands. Titus handed over some clothes to each of them before stepping back.

“I’m fulfilling a vow made to Lexa. Put these on.” He told them. Clarke looked at the grounder clothes with disgust as Murphy followed directions, putting the coat over his own.

He glanced over at Clarke, seeing her make no move to change. “The door we’ve been trying to open for the last 24 hours is open Clarke. Let’s use it.” He reminded her but Clarke ignored him, turning to Titus and throwing the clothes back at him.

“You killed your commander. How are you still free?” She asked him, biting back her words not to scream.

“I’m the only Fleimkepa.” He told her as she scoffed. “Please, if you go now, you can slip in the crowds arriving for the conclave.” He told her as Murphy stepped up, grabbing her arm.

“Clarke, Let’s go.”

“I need to see Aden.” She told Titus.

“That’s out of the question. The Natblidas have begun the purification ritual.” Titus informed her. After Clarke demanded once again to see him, Titus led them both to where the Natblidas, the Nightbloods, were in ritual. 5 nightbloods knelt on the ground, watching as Aden stuck his hand into a container of red powder and stood in front of a dead Lexa.

“Hofli Keryon kom Heda na sad ai op.” Aden whispered into the air as he sprinkled the red powder over Lexa’s dead body.

May the Spirit of the Commander choose me.

The door opened to reveal Clarke, Murphy and Titus standing in the doorway as Aden turned to look. Clarke asked to speak with Aden who offered her a moment to be with Lexa, but Clarke denied, insisting she needed to speak with him about honoring his promise to her people.

“If Heda’s spirit chooses me I will honor the promise. Lexa made us all vow it. We loved her.” The boy looked distraught as Clarke nodded, feeling relief in the fact her people would be supported.

Roan came into the ritual, Ontari, the nightblood Clarke had met earlier when Nia dripped her black blood across Clarke’s face, followed behind Roan and the second she saw Clarke she attacked. She took Clarke to the floor, holding a knife in the air only to be stopped by Titus after she pushed Aden away from his attempt. Roan ordered her to put the knife down, but she snapped at him. “She’s the reason your mother is dead.”

“You will obey your king.”

Ontari tightened the grip on her knife before pulling it away. Looking Clarke dead in the eyes. “No matter. When I am Heda and the king bows to me, you and every last Skaikru will die.”

You sat on the bench next to Kane, watching from across the room as Lincoln spoke to a woman bandaging up another before he stood up, walking across the room. You took a deep breath, crossing your arms as Lincoln stood in front of you.

“She going to be okay?” you nodded over to the woman as Lincoln looked over, sighing softly.

“She will be. So will you.”

You let out a defeated chuckle, knowing Lincoln was wrong. “You inspire them. That’s the Lincoln I knew.” He put his hand on your shoulder, making you look him in the eyes as he offered a sad smile.

“I’m not gonna let you give up, either.” You wanted to tell him to give up, to accept that this was your fate just as you had, but you couldn’t say anything as the door to the room opened.

Pike, Bryan, a few guards as well as Bellamy entered. Bellamy immediately caught your eyes through the cage as you got to your feet, looking towards Pike. “I thought I had more time.” You muttered.

“I’m not here for you.” He looked over your shoulders and around the room at the several grounders and Kane and Sinclair. “Each of you are guilty of the same crimes as Y/N. You will all share the same fate. Death.” You swallow back the awful dose of reality Pike just shot at you as you felt Bellamy’s eyes boring into the side of your face.

The grounder woman from earlier asked Lincoln what Pike was saying, not understanding English to which Lincoln told her not to worry. “My people are innocent. They know nothing. Don’t let them suffer for my crimes. Please.” You looked over your shoulder at Lincoln, watching his jaw rigid as he pleaded to Pike.

“Sir, Lincoln’s right.” You were shocked when Bellamy spoke up. “All the others did was run through an open door, same thing we would do if we were in the same position.” Pike paused as he looked at all of you before nodding.

“I agree that true. Kane, Lincoln, Sinclair, and Y/N as leaders of this coup, you will pay for your crimes with your lives.” You gasped, stepping forward to protest but the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you stopped you. Pike looked you up and down. “Execution is set for dawn.” He led the guards out of the room as they followed, everyone except Bellamy.

“Y/N-“

“Don’t. You chose your side. This, all this, is not your fault, but I wouldn’t be here if you’d chosen the right side.” You whispered barely loud enough for him to hear before you turned around, walking away and wiping tears trying to fall out of your eyes. You went years without crying, but on Earth Bellamy Blake managed to turn you into a damn waterfall. He doesn’t know the affect he has on you.

Bellamy watch you join a slumped Kane on the bench. Kane wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you let your eyes close and you could feel the soft trail of a tear making its way down your cheek. His eyes hardened and he practically dashed out of the room in search of Monty.

Monty and Bellamy stood outside Miller’s room, Bellamy having just pounded on the door. Miller and Harper exchanged glances before Miller opened it. “What are you doing here?” He asked as they let themselves in. Bellamy brought a finger to his lips, shushing them. He reached into his pocket pulling out a knife. Miller and Harper went into high alert, hands reaching for their guns before Bellamy calmed them down. He reached for Miller’s jacket, cutting open a part of it to reveal the bug Bryan had placed a few days ago. Miller looked to Harper, both equally as shocked as Monty dropped the microphone into a bag.

“The bag blocks the signal.” Monty told them.

“Who put it there?” Miller asked although deep down he already knew.

“That’s not important. Pike just sentenced Y/N to death. Lincoln, Sinclair, and Kane too.” Bellamy looked distressed; all he could think about was prospect of losing you. Harper just scoffed.

“Are you trying to scare us?” she asked.

“We’re here to help. You’re going to get them out right? What can we do?”

Harper and Miller exchanged looks, not believing a word they were saying. “What are you talking about?” Harper feigned confusion.

“Look, we can help from the inside, but we need people to hand them off to on the outside.” Miller and Harper continued their act, making Monty and Bellamy mad as Bellamy groaned. “You know what, forget it. If my sister wants to save Lincoln’s life, you tell her to meet me at the dropship in an hour. But I’m not letting anything happen to Y/N.” Bellamy stormed out of the room, shaking his head and running a hand over his face, wiping away any look of his troubles. Monty called after him before turning to Harper.

“After everything we’ve been through, you don’t trust me?”

Harper bit the inside of her cheek, shaking the hair out of her to look at him. “Does your mother know you’re here Monty?”

Bellamy stood outside the dropship, hoping on everything his sister would show up. He heard the clopping of a horse as he spun around, relaxing at the sight of his sister. “Octavia.”

She went in for a hug, almost wrapping her arm around him before she plunged a syringe into his neck. Bellamy fell onto her, slowly falling to the ground. “Sleep well, big brother.” She said softly as she caught him.

Bellamy came to in a cave, Octavia and Indra were standing over him as his hands were locked in front of him. “It was a mistake to bring him here.” Indra told the younger girl.

Octavia sighed, looking down at Bellamy sat on the floor. “He was out the whole way. I searched him for bugs.”

“You think I’d let them hurt you?” Bellamy questioned, hoping Octavia would realize everything Bellamy would do was for her.

“You let them capture Y/N, didn’t you?” Bellamy was taken back, his mouth falling open as he looked at her.

“You waste time.” Indra interrupted them, looking towards Octavia. “You should be in their camp by now.” Octavia nodded, reaching to grab her things.

“Pike will be expecting you. You won’t be able to get close, but I can. We work together and we can save them!” Bellamy tried to explain but Octavia refused to look at him. “They’re going to execute her, Octavia. They’re going to kill her!”

Octavia finally looked at him, taking a step forward to stand over him. “You’re the reason she needs saving Bellamy. If she does die, her death will be on you.”

“O…” he whispered. He tried to ignore the part in him that agreed with her, knowing that if you did die, if he couldn’t save you, it’s his fault. “You need me.” His voice was small as Octavia shook her head.

“For the first time in my life, that’s not true.” She turned around, heading right out the cave entrance as Bellamy called out her name. He was worried, of course he was, if this doesn’t work, he hated the fact he couldn’t even say goodbye.

He messed up.

He should’ve chosen your side.

He messed everything up.

You leaned against the wall as you watched Lincoln talk to a man laid on the ground. He stood up, looking down at you as you chuckled. “Did you ever think that day you found me in the woods, that we’d be here?” Lincoln quirked a brow at you as you shook off the question with a smile, but Lincoln just joined you against the wall. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get Pike out of the camp.”

“That wasn’t on you. Your people, they think they’re doing the right thing.” He said as you scoffed.

“Yeah, you don’t need to tell me that. I couldn’t even get through to Bellamy.” You didn’t miss the way Lincoln sent you a smirk out the corner of your eye as you felt your cheeks heat up. “I swear Lincoln, if you say anything right now.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Uh huh, sure you weren’t.” you joked before seeing the smirk on his face fall slightly. You knew just by the look on his face what he was thinking about. “You’re thinking about Octavia, aren’t you?”

Lincoln nodded solemnly as you looked up into the ceiling, staring at the crack in the wall and thinking about your best friend. You didn’t know if you were going to see her again, and that hurt. You watched across the cell as Kane who was previously let out to talk to Abby came back, much more depressed than he was before.

You left your spot next to Lincoln when the man caught his attention again. You headed over to sit on Kane’s side. His arms rested on his knee and you could see the brand of the coalition peaking out from his rolled-up sleeves. You took his arm, turning it over to run your fingers across it. Kane watched you, paying more attention to your soft facial expression than the mark. “Could’ve worked.” You told him, letting the pad of your thumb run right down the center.

“Death can be an act of unity. We don’t break. No fear. The people will remember.” He told you. You sighed, looking to give him a sad smile.

“So, you and Abby Griffin.” You spoke referring to the disappearance he made with the woman earlier.

“So, you and Bellamy Blake.” He backed as you let out a small scoff, hiding the frown you would’ve worn behind a forced smile.

“You’re going to die and she visited you. I don’t even know where Bellamy’s at.” You stared at the floor in front of you, gently picking up the toes of your feet only to press them back down and distract you. Kane eyed you, knowing you were giving up hope when your shoulders slacked, resting your head against the wall and your fingers still tracing his mark.

“Bellamy’s going to figure it out eventually. He’ll come back for you.” He argued.

You just remained still, not moving at all. “How can you be sure?”

“You love him.” You inhaled quickly as you looked anywhere but him. Kane, being ever so knowledgeable about your predicament, put a hand on your knee, pulling your attention back to him. “And I’m willing to bet he feels the same about you.”

You let a small scoff leave your lips. “And look where that got us. We’re about to be executed.” You heard Kane sigh next to you, yet he followed your words with none of his own. This wasn’t how you thought you were going to die, given you imagined it many ways, yet an execution never made the list. “Kane… I’m sorry.

His brows pulled together. “What are you sorry for?”

“For what I am. For what I became. My parents would be disappointed in me.” You let go of his arm but Kane didn’t move it as his sight remained locked on your face, downcast as you took a deep breath. “They always taught me to be strong. To not let others decide my fate, that I needed to make my own.”

“You are one of the strongest people I know Y/N.” He grabbed your hand, giving it squeeze.

“Then why wasn’t I enough for them?!” Your voice cracked as you looked at him with broken eyes. It was as if in the final moments before the guards come in you needed to be free from your feelings, you needed to know. “Why did you leave me?”

“Y/N, your parents. There’s something you don’t know.” He whispered as he wiped a tear off your face as you gasped quietly.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“Chancellor on deck!” Someone shouted as you both jumped to your feet, feeling Kane grab your arms and stare out at the guards. Lincoln spoke to the grounders as you scanned the room, feeling your heart plummet when you don’t see the brown eyes you so wanted.

“I told you, Bellamy’s not here.” You mumbled right before Pike shouted for everyone to back against the walls. You listened, following directions as you peaked over to Lincoln. His eyes pierced through the room, sending daggers straight at Pike who was walking over to you. You glared at Pike as he handcuffed your wrists, tightening them more than necessary as you hissed.

The four of you were led through the hallways in a line. This is it. You thought. I’m about to die. You followed behind Kane, seeing him look over his shoulder at you but you didn’t meet his eyes. You knew this would be easier if you didn’t.

“Make way!” Pike yelled one the halls as you watched your feet shuffle against the ground, barely picking them up.

“Yes sir, Mr. Chancellor.” Someone says as you immediately shoot your head up, seeing Harper stand off to the side. Her lips curl up slightly when she sees you and for the first time in 24 hours you think you might have a chance to live.

“Package is on the move. I repeat package is on the move.” She spoke into a microphone after you’ve passed to not get caught.

But it was all for naught as Monty and Hannah were listening in on her call. “She’s talking about the prisoners.” Hannah pointed out as Monty leaned forward on his knees, bouncing his leg getting his whole body to shake. “Whose voice is that?” Monty didn’t want to lie to his mother, but he knew he had to. He shook her head, motioning he had no idea. Harper came on the call again before another’s.

“We’re in position. Ready to intercept.”

“Octavia kom Skaikru.” Hannah said when she realized the second voice belong to the girl. You heard Hannah’s voice come over the radio on Pike, telling him Octavia was here. You held back a gasp, knowing how much more trouble you could be in if Pike knew you were a part of this whole thing, you’d be in even more trouble than you could imagine.

Pike ordered you all to your knees and you obliged, feeling the nerves get to you. Pike scowled at you as he talked to Hannah over the radio. “Can you confirm a location?”

“Negative, sir.”

Bryan stepped up to Pike. “Sir, we can assume her friends already told her where were talking them. We shouldn’t move until we know the route’s secure.” Bryan told him as Pike nodded, finding an empty room just in front of him. He assured you all into the room, telling two men to stand by the door.

“Anyone comes out of there, shoot to kill. Anyone enters this corridor, one warning then shoot to kill. Everyone else, on me.” The guards nodded as they took positions, two of them staying with the four of you. The moment you were seated on the ground you looked to Kane; his mouth was upturned into a little smirk. You raised a brow at him before he mouthed ‘I told you so’. Your smirk then matched his.

Bellamy was still handcuffed in the cave, leaning against the wall as he clenched his fists. “Indra please. Pike tripled his security; he’ll see her coming.”

“Good. We’re counting on that.”

Bellamy just groaned. “He still trusts me. If anything goes wrong, we can use that.” He tried to tell her as Indra stood up to tower over him.

“I’ve seen where that trust came from. The battlefield where you massacred my brothers and sisters.” She snapped at him.

“Should I have let him kill you?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Same reason you haven’t used that sword on me.”

She tilted her chin in the air, staring down at the boy. “Octavia.” Bellamy nodded, pleading one last time for release over the fact Octavia could die at Arkadia. “Then Octavia kom Skaikru will die the warrior’s death you denied me.”

Pike took his guards towards the hanger bay, they kept their guns in their hands, ready to shoot anyone threatening their safety. “Same drill!” He ordered as the guards separated. “Watch for blind spots.”

“Sir, the hangar’s secure.”

Pike wasted no time in pulling out his radio. “Unit 4 come in. Unit 4 what’s your status?” He asked again after a few minutes of silence. “Are the prisoners secured?” Still nothing came through as they left the hangar, running down the halls to get back to you all. They reached your door, seeing the two guards laying on the ground unconscious. Pike stepped past the guards on the floor, letting everyone care for them as he stepped into the room you were supposed to be in.

“Damn it!” He yelled out as the room was empty, not a trace of you all to be seen. “We did exactly what they wanted us to do.” He mumbled as he turned around to the others. “It won’t happen again.”

The left the room, a few seconds later the floorboards moving out from their spots as the five of you clamber out. You wore a relieved smile on your face as Kane helped you to your feet. “Bit right down there.” He said soon as you were all out and Octavia was unlocking his handcuffs.

Octavia just glared at him and scoffed. “Try doing it for 16 years.” She snapped. Kane was taken back as the tension in the air thickened. She turned to you, her glare still locked on Kane as she undid your own bounds.

“Hey.” You tapped Octavia on the shoulder, getting her to look at you. When she did, you wrapped your arms around her, bringing her in for a tight hug she returned. “Thank you for saving us.” You mumbled into her ear.

“Couldn’t let you suffer for my brother’s mistakes.” She replied before pulling away, seeing her boyfriend standing behind you. You watched them embrace, thankful they’d get many more. Abby came in the door as you went on alert, ready in case a guard decided to stop by.

“Abby… I told you not to do this.” Kane spoke in a hushed voice to her, asserting his authority as you watched carefully.

“Why would I start listening to you now?” You chuckled at the woman’s defiance. She was just like Clarke.

Harper’s voice was the one to break up the reunions this time as she informed you all of the numerous guards blocking your exit.”Stay put.”

“They’re trapped.” Hannah told Monty as they continued to eavesdrop on your radio calls. Monty didn’t look at her, wasting only a beat before grabbing their radio.

“Attention all guards. Calling all guards. The prisoners are headed for the main gate. The prisoners are headed for the main gate! Over!” He shouted as his mom stared on in shock at him.

“Monty, what are you doing?”

For the first time during their spy work, he turned to his mother and looked her in the eye. “I’m saving my friends.”

You looked around the room all equally confused. “Was that Monty?” You asked through the silence.

“Guess he’s with us after all.” Miller said with a shake of his head. You couldn’t help the way your heartbeat leaped. If Monty was helping then maybe Bellamy…

“Pike will figure it out.” Kane asked, bringing you back to your senses. Abby brought her hand up to comfort Kane’s arm.

“We don’t know that.” She assured him.

You shook your head, moving to look outside in the now empty hallway. “What we do know is we have to leave.” Everyone followed your lead out of the room, Octavia running ahead of you to show you the plan’s route.

Monty stayed in his seat after his little radio call. His mom on the other hand was pacing back and forth behind him. “Your friends are traitors!” She yelled.

“Then I guess I’m one too.” There was no doubt in Monty’s mind if he had to do it all over he would help you again, but next time he would be on the correct side from the beginning.

“How many men do we have on the gate?” Pike asked them as he barged into their roomHannah looked to her son, seeing him stand up for what he believed in as she sighed.

“Sir, we just got word. It was another false report.”

“Put this camp on lockdown.” He growled to the two guards behind him.

Octavia led you all to a hatch where Harper waited. The moment she saw you she smiled, pulling you in for a hug before dashing through the hatch. You stepped back, letting everyone go before you until Lincoln, Octavia, Kane, Abby and you were left. “Ok, Abby you’re next.” Kane said as he motioned for her to enter.

Abby just shook her, taking a step back. “I’m not going. They need someone to show them out of the darkness. Besides-“ her speech was cut short when Kane put his hand on the side of her face, pulling her flush against himself and kissing her. Your eyes went wide as you looked away, wanting to give Kane the privacy he deserved. You met Octavias eyes across the room and she smirked at you before going back to lookout. “May we meet again.” Kane told Abby when they finished kissing.

“We will.”

You listened for the sound of Abby making her way through the out the door by Lincoln before you finally turned around, seeing a slight dusting of blush on Kane’s face. “Go on.” He said to you, motioning to the hatch. You patted him on the back as you began to climb on through, only to be stopped by the sound of Pikes voice on Octavia’s radio.

“I have a message for the traitors in this camp. There will be an execution. Either turn yourselves in or the other grounder prisoners will die in your place.” You jumped out of the hatch, trying to figure out what to do.

Someone was going to die today.

“Let’s go.” Octavia said, giving Lincoln and you a slight push. You nodded wearily as you grabbed on the wall but Lincoln didn’t listen to Octavia. He was going to save his people. “Lincoln please!

“I can’t let them die because of me. Go.”

Octavia continued to plead and you joined in, not wanting to lose your friend. “I know what you’re feeling, but they’re searching the station. We have to go.”

“Go.” Lincoln repeated himself but you still shook your head.

“They‘ll kill you Lincoln.” It felt like you were screaming but to Kane and Lincoln your voice was small, trying not to waver as you bid your friend goodbye. Lincoln just smiled down at you, pulling you in for a hug as you shut your eyes tight, trying to wrap your arms around him.

“Take care of her.” He asked you, looking at a teary-eyed defiant Octavia as you nodded softly, sucking in a deep breath to keep yourself from joining her. “May we meet again Y/N.” He pulled away earlier than you wanted him to as you dropped your head, feeling tears prickle the side of your eyes as Kane put his hand on your shoulder.

You threw yourself into his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he rubbed your back. You turned right back into that little girl who watched her parents float themselves, running to Kane for comfort.

“I’m going with you.” Octavia told him. “Oso throu daun ogeda.”

We fight together.

Lincoln smiled down at Octavia, bringing a hand up to caress her face. “I love you.” He whispered to her but you heard it, the feeling striking you on the gut hard. He pulled her into a kiss and while she was distracted, took the opportunity to sneak a hand into her satchel and pull out syringe, injecting it into her neck.

“No…” she mumbled as she fell unconscious. Lincoln lifted her into the air as you stepped back from Kane, letting him carry her.

“What are you doing?” Kane asked.

Lincoln looked down at his girlfriend sorrowfully. “Same thing you'd do for your people. Just get her out of here.” Kane nodded, taking the girl through the hatch as you let him, risking one last glance to Lincoln.

“Ste yuj, Lincoln.” You told him as you lent up to kiss his cheek, giving him one last smile.

Stay strong.

“You too.” He told you before watching you disappear into the hatch. He fixed the door, removing any evidence you were there before heading out of the room, right into the hands of Pike and the guards.

Somehow in Polis, everything was getting even worse. Ontari cheated the conclave, killing all the Natblidas in their sleep. Everyone was confused when the fight supposedly ended, and when they found out what happened, Clarke was scared. Ontari would in no way protect your people. Roan, in honor of Lexa sparing his life, tried to get Clarke and Murphy out of Polis, but Clarke refused to leave without the flame, the one physical connection to Lexa she has left. The flame was pulled out of Lexa after her death, it contained all the past commanders and shall be placed inside the next Heda. Which should’ve been Ontari, but Clarke remembered something Lexa had told her.

Another Natblida was left from Lexa’s conclave, a girl who ran. Titus told Clarke her name was Luna and Clarke knew Lincoln talked of a Luna once and figured it was the same girl. She took the flame from Titus with the promise of bringing Luna back as a commander. Clarke left Polis, leaving Murphy in the hands of Ontari. Titus, the only person able to perform the ascension confronted Ontari with Roan during the purification process. He told them he provided the flame for Clarke to take but wouldn’t tell them where. Ontari, angered at Titus’ defiance ordered Titus’ death, but Murphy reminded her she needed him. Titus, at the knowledge Ontari wouldn’t let him die, took the knife Roan had held and slit his own throat, killing himself. Ontari was outraged, she was going to be the new commander and Titus stopped her plans. No one outside of the room and Clarke knew Ontari wasn’t the commander, so she came up with a plan.

She was going to fake it.

Bellamy was going crazy in the cave. He didn’t think it would take this long unless something happened. No matter what he couldn’t get the feeling something happened out of his head. He sat up at the sound of horns seeming to come from Polis.

“Heda.” Indra whispered as Bellamy looked at her confused.

“What is it?”

“A new commander has risen.” Bellamy was on his feet as he watched Indra grab her things, getting ready to leave.

“And you go running?” She ignores him as she continued moving. “Well maybe, this time, Octavia will get it, your loyalty will always be with your people.”

“Octavia is my people.” She snapped at him over her shoulder.

“Then take these chains off me and we can help them together.” He hoped he was getting through to her and for a second he was, but Indra sighed, looking out into the forest with a shake of his head.

“Tell them I’m sorry.” She said before running out of the cave, leaving Bellamy alone.

You didn’t say a thing as you left the camp, not sparing a glance at anything besides the ground beneath your feet. “Lincoln.” You beard mumbled next to you from Octavia laid on a horse. You made no move to let her know you heard her and half of you suspected it was just in your head. She started to roll off before you looked up at her, helping her weak body off the horse. Octavia was stumbling as she looked for a clearing, finding one just in front of you that overlooked Arkadia. You joined her after a minute of needing to know what was happening. But the air was sucked out of your body at the sight of Lincoln kneeling on the ground in a mud puddle with Pike standing in font of him with a gun in hand. You knew it was coming but knowing it didn’t hurt any less. You felt Kane’s hand on your back, seeing him clutch Octavia out of the corner of your eyes but you paid him no mind, your eyes never leaving the scene playing out in front of you all.

Pike promised Lincoln his people would be cared for. Not free, but cared for. “Lincoln of Trikru, you have been sentenced to death by the rights of the Exodus charter. Any last words?” He asked your friend mere seconds away from being executed. Lincoln just stuck his head up in the air.

“Not for you.” Pike slowly brought the gun up, pointing it at Lincoln’s head. Lincoln slowly turned to look up, catching sight of Octavia above him. “Meibi oso na hit choda op nodotaim.”

May we meet again.

You could hear Octavia whimper next to you but still you stayed silent and stoic, your head screaming but the only moment occurring on your outside be the twitch of a finger. You counted the seconds in your head until this was all over, pleading that somehow Lincoln won’t be shot. Maybe Pike would come to his senses, or one of the guards, or even Bellamy coming to your rescue and stopping Lincoln’s execution.

1… 2…

Gunshots.

A/N: Long chapter, oh my. Also when this episode aired I was absolutely devastated because I LOVED Lincoln, Ricky Whittle was so amazing in his role. I think I cried for a while tbh... well, tell me what you think!

TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED!!!

*Reblogging with Banished*

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