#Second Princess of the South Sea | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

novelistrry · 3 months

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Wind picked up, swirling around the two as she approached him. There was a leather riding jacket hooked on one of the stable doors, and as she approached him directly, he unhooked it and propped it around her shoulders. Reaching down, he began buttoning it up, until his eyes met her.

The sheepish look she had on her face nearly brought him to his knees. “How were your dreams?”

Her face felt hot. Was it noticeable? “Are you teasing me?”

A smile danced across his lips, bringing his hand to her hair and softly caressing it. “Of course not, Princess.”

Harry is a prince, Y/N is a princess, and neither of them know how to feel.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fake dating, tension, etc.

Warning: Mentions of panic attacks, nightmares, praise kink, deception, an awkward sexual encounter (consensual of course), etc! Also, this is not proofread.

Word Count: 4k, sorry it's so short D:

Part One

II. The Rain

Niall had been growing increasingly frustrated with Harry as the days passed. As Harry’s hand, and his best friend, he knew Harry was not as cruel as he made himself out to be. This plan of his, this deceit was one of the cruelest things Harry had ever thought of.

Everyday, Niall asked him if he really felt that this plan was sound, and everyday Harry would show remorse. Every now and again, Niall wanted to roll the words “you’re acting like a frightened child” off his tongue, but never could bring himself to hurt Harry’s feelings like that.

As wrong as it felt, as wrong as it was, his loyalty was not to Harry, it was to Y/N, which made him feel like scum at the bottom of a sea barrel. He could not imagine the guilt that was weighing on Harry’s conscience. He knew his friend. He knew his heart.

___

Y/N was floating on a cloud, the air smelled sweet like the grapes growing on the vineyards just South of the castle, and Harry looked so wonderful walking in front of her. A white linen shirt was loosely tucked into his riding pants, and his riding boots hit just under his knees. She could almost see his back muscles through the shirt. It was mouth watering, really. Y/N chose to walk a few steps behind him to admire what he looked like from the back, how beautiful his silhouette was.

As if he could feel her eyes on him, he turned. “Hello, dear.”

Her stomach coiled, and she nearly kicked herself for it. “Hi.”

The sheepish look she had on her face nearly brought him to his knees. “How were your dreams?”

Her face felt hot. Was it noticeable? “Are you teasing me?”

A smile danced across his lips, bringing his hand to her hair and softly caressing it. “Of course not, Princess.”

For a second, she thought maybe he would kiss her but when Brad came out of nowhere, Harry’s hand immediately dropped, putting a chunk of distance between them. Y/N couldn’t help the way her face contorted with disappointment. The way he immediately put space between them almost seemed like he was embarrassed to be acquainted with her.

She never understood exactly what they were, exactly where the boundaries were. Sometimes it felt like they were utterly obsessed with each other, and other times it felt like they were merely conversing because they needed to. The winds grew harsher as Brad neared them. The sound of the wind was like a murmur in the air, musical and somewhat daunting.

Dark clouds had surrounded the palace, signifying rain, which was not ideal riding weather. It was much too dangerous. The sound of the wind replicating the kind of haunting music you would hear the string section play in a Royal Theatre added to the ominous darkness.

“Still doing it, Princess? I’m proud of you,” Brad clapped his hands together, in support of her showing up for riding lessons.

Harry’s jaw clenched together, and his eyebrow twitched as he licked across his teeth. If Y/N knew any better, she would have thought this is something he does when he’s annoyed, “Right, she does very well.”

Her mind rushed, flooding with everything Harry had said about letting Brad into his bed. Was he upset that Brad had complimented her, when he should be complimenting Harry? The pair were so hot and cold, it was beginning to give her whiplash.

Brad and Harry exchanged a few pleasantries as Y/N brought her fingers to Freya’s coat, getting acquainted with the horse once more. Freya was so lovely, and strikingly beautiful.

As Brad scurried off, Y/N had Harry’s completely undivided attention once more.

“I want to get on Freya today.” Y/N spoke the words before she even fully thought them in her head. Her eyes went wide, but she knew why she said it. She wanted Harry to be astounded, to be completely winded with her.

Harry chuckled, tightening the bridle around Freya’s head. When Y/N didn’t say anything in response, he looked over at her and realized she was serious.

“No,” he spoke in a low voice, dancing around the subject with caution.

Anger swarmed her veins, like all of her blood cells had been replaced. Who was he to tell her no? Her ears felt hot, and Y/N’s nose scrunched. It was a habit she picked up as a young child when something didn’t go her way. Whenever she felt her nose scrunch and her eyebrows furrow, she felt like a small child demanding things go the way she wants.

“What do you mean no?” She grabbed the bridle from Harry’s hand, and he couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his mouth. Y/N was even more endearing when she was angry.

Carefully, he grabbed her by the waist, spinning her around so that their chests were pressed together. Taking a breath as the harsh winds racked through the stables, he smelled the scent of her. Vanilla and cinnamon; mouth watering and sweet.

“It means that you are precious to me,” Harry clicked his tongue, eyes locking with hers as if he were trying to convey everything he felt through his eyes. “And you don’t need to impress me.”

“How do you know that I’m not ready?” Y/N’s jaw clicked again, the scowl still apparent on her face, even with his swoon-worthy words. She would not be swayed by his charm.

Harry glanced over to where her hand was white-knuckling the bridle. When she followed his glance, she realized that her hand shook slightly, a nervous habit she picked up after her bad experience horseback riding.

He realized that he needed to approach this delicately; she was stubborn, hard-headed, and did not like to be told she couldn’t do something. He, at times, was so similar to her that it was like they were different sides of the same coin.

She dropped her hand, a deep shame washing through her. It was like he knew everything she was feeling by the microexpressions fleeting across her face.

He took her hands in his. Freya was starting to become an unwelcome third, because everytime he touched her, even in the most platonic way, she craved more.

“Don’t feel shame,” he said softly.

“I…” She trailed off, eyes glued to the ground. It was hard to look at him, and know that he was the picture-perfect prince, and she was so not. “I am not used to being… not good at something.”

Harry chuckled, and when she looked at him, she had never realized how he looked at her with so much delicacy. “I’m the worst sport you’ll ever meet, Y/N. If I am not good at something, it throws my temper. Just ask Niall. I wish I had an ounce of your poise.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She asked quietly.

“Because… Someone must have told you that it’s not okay to feel fear and I don’t like that.” Harry looped his fingers under her chin, forcing Y/N to take her eyes off the ground and look at him. “We start small, like you did when you were first learning as a child.”

He grimaced at the poor choice of words, comparing her skill level to that of a child’s. Y/N was so easy to discourage, and he felt like he couldn’t say anything correctly.

Y/N saw the grimace and let it go. “So what do we do today?”

“How about today you just sit on Freya. I’ll hold onto her bridle, and you sit in the saddle. No walking, no trotting, just sitting.”

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “For how long?”

“Not too long,” he promised.

And with that said, his hands were all over her, helping her mount Freya. As soon as she was up, her thighs squeezing the horse tightly, he was watching for her micro-expressions that told him he needed to help her off immediately.

But she didn’t have any. If anything, a small smile formed on her lips, like she was proud she got on in the first place. Usually, she chickened out, but with Harry, she felt safe and cared for.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N.” Harry spoke, gripping the bridle closely. His hand rubbed her leg as she looked down at him. Swallowing, he realized he had been gripping the bridle with all his might, white-knuckling it the same way that she was earlier. Harry was feeling more nervous than Y/N was, and a deep sense of pride had him smiling from ear-to-ear as she confidently sat atop Freya.

She muttered an embarrassed-thanks, but by the way her head turned and her smile got bigger, he knew that she was liking the positive attention from her.

“You’re such a good girl, darling,” Harry said softly, his hands now resting on Freya’s sides to ensure she would not move.

“Me or Freya?” Y/N mumbled.

“Both, but I was talking to you, sweet girl.” She was melting.

Freya, feeling sick of their conversation and not being able to go anywhere, shifted her weight from one leg to the other. The sudden movement threw Y/N, causing a yelp to sound from her throat. Immediately, Harry dropped the bridle and reached for her hands, pulling her off of Freya and into his chest.

Whispering in her ear, he tried to soothe her before it led to a panic attack. “You’re okay, you’re fine. Sometimes they get tired of having all their weight on one side, just like us, so they move to get more comfortable. It’s normal,” he hushed her, “You’re okay.”

She shook slightly, but there were no tears or signs of panic in her eyes. As soon as Freya moved and Y/N yelped, Harry was there, pulling her head into his chest and reassuring her.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

He pulled her away, enough to scan her face and make sure that she was actually okay.

“I think that frightened me more than it frightened you, Y/N.” He laughed softly, earning a grin from her. “That’s enough for the day.”

Harry led Freya back to her stable, removing the bit and bridle from around her mouth. Y/N overheard him promise to come out a little later and ride her, or let her run wild in the tall grass behind the stables for some extra exercise. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an apple slice he had stolen from one of the breakfast carts in the hallway and fed it to Freya with an open palm. Harry’s intention was to have Y/N do it, to get over the fear of their massive teeth, but he thought she had enough scare for one day and didn’t trust her to set a boundary she was actually comfortable with.

Using her fingers, Y/N unbuttoned the coat Harry had put on her. She was fixing to put it back on the rack, where Harry had originally had it then head back inside, but he stopped her, letting her know that he wanted to stay out here for a while longer.

Walking together, they found themselves in a large tack shed with a bench for removing riding boots. There were so many tools and instruments for the horses and Y/N didn’t quite understand what they were for, but she had a feeling he didn’t bring her in here for a lesson on tools and riding equipment.

As predicted, the rain began pouring. Pitter patters of rain, hitting the shed pinged off the wooden roof, some of the holes allowing for water droplets to seep in.. It was cold, but she felt cozy nuzzled so closely next to him. Harry was so warm and so safe.

As soon as the door shut behind them, their bodies were pressed together and his lips were merely inches from her own. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

She nodded, but then added, “Why won’t you do it in front of anyone?”

He spoke, now his lips pressed against hers, “This isn’t going to be a gentle peck, Y/N. How would they feel seeing my tongue on the inside of their precious princess’ mouth?”

Harry was so vulgar, sometimes the words that came out of his mouth shocked her, and the gasp that slipped past her lips, Harry used to slide his tongue along her bottom lip and pull her lip between his teeth.

Using the wall made from plywood, Harry moved her so that Y/N’s back was pressed against the wall. His thigh was fitted between her legs as his lips moved against her own. They stayed like this for a while, small moans falling from Y/N’s mouth, and each moan went straight to Harry’s core. He liked earning those from her. He liked being with her.

“I wanna feel you,” Y/N said, and even she was shocked by how outright she said it. With each day, she felt more comfortable expressing her needs to Harry, and when those four words tumbled from her lips, their faces still pressed together, he couldn’t help the vulnerable moan that escaped his own.

“You want my fingers or my mouth, doll?” Harry took a step away, so her body wasn’t smushed between the wall and his own. He wanted to see her face as she answered, as her eyes flickered around the room and she begged for either his fingers or his mouth.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. That small bead of confidence was beginning to wither away. As if he could read her like the back of his hand, he understood that she was growing too bashful to respond.

“You want both my fingers and my mouth? You don’t have to say it, you can just say yes or no.” Harry tacked on the last end to make this experience as comfortable as possible. They hadn’t been together very much, but he always wanted her to feel safe with him.

“No, no.” She responded, looking down.

His brow quirked upward. “I’m not understanding, Y/N.”

Gently, she pressed a kiss to his neck, her tongue darting over the exposed skin as she suckled softly. It was almost like second nature, wanting to taste him everywhere. The moans that caught in the back of his throat were an added bonus to the sweet taste of his skin.

“You want to feel my cock, love?” He was trying to decipher exactly what she needed from him.

Pulling her lips from his neck, a soft string of spit attaching them together, she nodded her head. “I’m ready for it.”

He shook his head, “Not today, darling.”

She frowned, but he laced his fingers in between hers and led her to the bench against the opposite side of the tackshed. There, he sat, urging her to straddle his lap. She did exactly that, putting one leg on either side of him, so they were touching but their clothes acted as a barrier.

Y/N’s breathing caught in her throat as she felt the thickness beneath his trousers. A devilish smile that she had seen him use on countless other people before spread across his face. Using his hand, he softly grabbed her by the throat and guided her lips back to his.

Their lips worked together; their bodies in tandem with one another. Naturally, her hips started to buck, begging for some sort of relief. As she felt him against her center, she tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Harry used this as an opportunity to attach his lips to her neck and taste her, breathing in the scent of her bath soap. She was so beautiful and enticing, it made his head spin.

As they moved together, her hips became sloppier and sloppier with each roll. He tasted so marvelous, notes of mint and lemon as their mouth worked together. Y/N hadn’t realized just how much she yearned for him, in every single aspect. Even when he was being so mean, she had longed for his approval. Now, she wanted him in every single sense of the word. With just his fingers, he stopped her hips from moving against him, a displeasing cry sounding from her at the loss of friction.

“You’re doing so well for me, darling,” Harry breathed out, slightly out of breath. “I think you need to take your riding pants off, though. You should be as close to me as you can.”

She nodded, and with much enthusiasm, she stood up and quickly unlaced her boots and removed her pants. As she did that, Harry unbuttoned his own, sliding them down to his knees, revealing his white-colored briefs. The sight of him nearly finished her then and there.

“Can I give a small lick?” She asked, not caring how depraved it sounded.

“Christ, Y/N. Yeah,” he breathed.

Y/N sunk to her knees, the cold ground was somewhat uncomfortable but she was too engrossed in Harry to even realize. Darting her tongue out, she licked him over his briefs. Just enough to wet the fabric of them so much that you could see the outline of him.

“Come here,” he whined, but he didn’t have it in him to be mortified with the whiny tone. Typically, he would be.

Like before, she straddled him, her center pressed directly on the hardness of him. Once more, she was moving against him, the pleasure so much more intense now that layers of clothes had been stripped.

He used his hands to guide her, and she mumbled something about how he was a trained professional. This must have stroked his ego in the best way possible, because suddenly he was bucking into her, begging for her to come with him.

Harry often had a tough time feeling comfortable enough to reach his pinnacle with another person, it was something so deeply vulnerable to him that sometimes he couldn’t do it out of sheer embarrassment for them to see him in such an exposed state.

But when he felt her hit her high, he couldn’t stop himself before he was coming too. With no warning, he finished, come spurting in between them and landing on his white linen shirt. Just watching him finish, made her eyes roll back in her head.

Shock washed through him as her hips halted against him. Gently, he removed her from his lap, standing her up. Frantically, he looked around for a rag, anything to wipe the sticky residue off his skin and before it could stain his shirt.

He didn’t watch her as she dressed herself, completely oblivious to the fact that he had no intention of showing her that part of him.

With a hot face, he asked for his jacket to conceal the stains of his come on his shirt as he walked back to the palace, “Is it okay if I have my jacket back?”

She shimmied out of his jacket, handing it to him. He quickly threw it over his shoulders and buttoned it up before muttering out, “That was really good. Thank you.”

Shuffling through some boxes, he found a pancho they used when it was raining but the horses needed tending. He helped her put the cloak on so when she walked back to the palace, she would be assaulted by the rain and grow sickly.

Y/N just smiled at him as he rushed out, letting her know he had somewhere to be. With very much confusion, she watched him as he hurried out the door, rain pelting him.

____

That night, Harry did not find himself going back to the palace immediately.

Instead he wandered around the grass fields, too ashamed to face Niall or anyone else for that matter. Especially Y/N.

But as the sun began to set, and he knew Niall was growing more and more worried as each hour passed, he finally made his way back to the comfortable cottage Niall was staying in during their time at Y/N’s family’s palace. He was completely soaking wet when he returned, shoulders shivering. Niall ushered him to the fireplace, looking around for dry clothes that would fit Harry.

“Where have you been?” Niall asked, a clear tone of worry laced throughout his words.

And with that, Harry dropped himself onto the chair directly next to the warmth of the fireplace and spilled his guts. He told Niall about how Y/N made him feel like he couldn’t control himself, like he was a magnet that only responded to her frequency. He teared up as he told Niall what a terrible person he was for using her like this, and how it was going to feel even worse because his heart was already breaking.

And Niall, like the good friend he was, listened carefully and thoughtfully. Only when Harry concluded did he say, “If you like her so much, why don’t you call off this plan? It sounds to me like the plan is still on.”

“It is,” Harry confirmed. “I’m simply not good enough for her.”

Niall, knowing that he could not argue with Harry when he was in a mood as sour as this, rested his hand on his shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze.

___

That night, Harry found himself sitting outside Y/N’s door, afraid that her scary experience on Freya today might haunt her in her dreams. With his back against the door, and tired eyes threatening to close, he waited to hear her screams.

He wanted to be there, to hold her and tell her it was okay.

Dorothea, hearing the sound of feet shuffling as Harry readjusted himself so that his earshot had a clear line of Y/N’s room, went out to investigate who was lingering in the hallway.

“Prince Harry?” Dorothea asked, wide eyed and confused.

Harry hummed in response, barely flickering his eyes up to meet hers. He was so tired, they were threatening to close.

“It’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?” She was slightly delirious from just waking up.

“I’m on nightmare watch,” he muttered out and it took a second for Dorothea to comprehend exactly what he said to her.

“Prince, if she has a nightmare and calls out for you, I will come get you again. You do not need to miss sleep to wait outside her door.”

“And what if she doesn’t call out for me?” His tired eyes looked up, “Will you still come get me?”

“Yes,” she promised, reaching her hand out and helping him to his feet. “Go to bed, Prince. You need beauty sleep.”

He nodded his head, rising to his feet with her help and turning to the direction of his own bedchamber. “Can you do me another favor?”

“Hm?” The sound coming from Dorothea was soft.

Harry reached his hand behind his neck, massaging softly. “Please don’t tell her.”

Dorothea only nodded in response, a silent promise between the two of them.

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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Out of These Waters

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Mer!Bucky x Princess!Reader Word Count: 7.6k

Summary: Fathoms below the surface, the tales of merfolk aren't mere tales, but a reality - a society sworn to secrecy, protecting themselves from the dangers of humans. But one of them with a yearning for what's out there keeps being drawn further and further into the places he should not go. A gender-bent adaptation of The Little Mermaid to be told in two parts.

Content/Concept Warnings: liberties taken with Hans Christian Andersen and Disney source materials, pining, magic

Additional Notes: Written for the @buckybarnesevents Connect4 Alternate June-iverse to fulfill my C3 "Gender Bend" square, looping in a number of dialogue prompts for Navy and Roo's May Challenge over at @the-slumberparty (designated in bold), my second square of @buckybarnesbingo B2 "Hidden," and MERMAY (shush, I know it's coming in at the absolute last seconds before the whistle blows). Thank you @navybrat817 and @rookthorne for letting me shout at you and go on at length riddling out this plot! A/N 2: This is part one of what needed to be split into two halves of a thorough adaptation/retelling. I had NO INTENTION of doing anything mermay. But a few weeks ago mermay art started surfacing on my dash... and I was enamored. And then some of Mindy Lee's art was shared in this post, and I thought... but what if Bucky were a merman with ridiculously long, dark, flowy hair like that... And then there was this merBucky art by @haflacky, and @navybrat817 sent me this one, and, and, and... and I realized the square I had been most perplexed about how I would find something to inspire a muse for could work if I made Bucky the protagonist of The Little Mermaid. So if you've noticed that I leaned heavy into the reblogging of mermay art, NOW YOU KNOW WHY.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t keep saying the same thing again and again, Buck.”

“Then don’t.”

“You know you’re supposed to guard from below, not above. The whole point of our guarding is to maintain secrecy, ensure humans never get too close.”

“Is it not better to know exactly what’s going on than to wait and react?”

Steve’s tail lashed quickly forward and back again, a further show of the frustration already written on his face. “But we both know that’s not why you sit at the surface.”

“There’s a wide balcony built into the side of the cliff the castle rests upon that’s only just above where high tide hits with a stairway that leads straight into the waters,” the words rushed quickly out of Bucky’s mouth. “It’s old. Why would they have direct access into the sea at the royal palace if not to interact with us?”

“How do you – no, I don’t want to know how you know that.” Steve planted his hands on his hips, just above where his dark blue scales spread down below his abdomen. “If I don’t know, I don’t have to lie for you. Your shoulders are darker than they should be, and your face is too sun-kissed.”

With that, he turned and began to swim away. Bucky looked at the tiny octopus resting on his left shoulder, tentacles wrapped around his bicep and stretching over his chest and back. He stroked the top of one of the tentacles and the beast slipped one of its arms underneath its body and slid out the three small trinkets Bucky had hidden there. “If humans are so bad, why do they make and collect such interesting trinkets?”

Instead of following straight after Steve, Bucky headed further west instead of south to the kingdom, and it wasn’t long before he reached a cave near the reef on the edge of the kingdom he’d discovered long ago during his patrols of the outer regions. It was in an undisturbed area on the outskirts of the underwater kingdom of Asgard, a place of complete solitude for Bucky. He shared the existence of this place with no one, using it as an escape, then a retreat, and now a regular spot to not only be away from duty and his ties to others, but also a place to keep his growing collection of human artifacts.

A cautious visit to the surface to observe humans as a point of reference was part of ritual tradition for all Asgardian merfolk as they reached the age of adulthood. Many used it for what it was – the point of reference for the life they were not a part of, knowledge of the dangers of the surface world, and were happy to have it over and done with.

Not Bucky.

He wasn’t the only one who the visit struck a chord with. Many of the merfolk found a call to join the royal guard after their visits – some out of fear to keep the sea safe, some out of a reverent respect for what lay beyond the safe border of the underwater. Others were struck by their habits – so similar to the merfolk, and yet different – and became collectors of the oddities that sometimes found their way into the sea either by shipwreck or simply being tossed overboard.

Bucky had yearned for his visit to the surface for years before it was his time, spurred on by a fascination that had sprouted from hearing about humans and the surface from his father who had served in the royal guard for many years before Bucky was old enough to join. His visit split the curiosity from a small crack to a chasm of questions and desires. He wanted to know so much more about the people he saw, how they lived, and yearned to even experience it himself.

Joining the guard and taking regular rotations of duty for protection monitoring allowed him the opportunity to breach the surface and observe as long as he was careful, and he was. As Steve had rightly surmised, today had been another of those days. He kept to every other part of the code and did not speak or interact with the humans on any level, the directive put into place by Bor Burison early in his reign, maintained throughout the entirety of Odin’s reign, and continued by his son Thor, their current king.

But it wasn’t the only reason he had joined the royal guard. Bucky was an explorer by nature, so he also took satisfaction in the standard undersea outskirt patrols, mapping and surveying different parts of the kingdom, and – most importantly – felt a deep sense of duty to the kingdom and serving the king, whom he felt a great amount of loyalty and friendship toward after growing up on the same training grounds together and fighting alongside on a few occasions.

So Bucky’s cave was more than just a place to keep the trinkets and artifacts he found during his excursions, it was a place where he could be himself, think, rest, or just be without any distraction. The alcoves held his treasures, which included some maps of his own creation on the sheaves of seaweed, and some things made for him or given to him by his younger sisters.

This place was some three or four leagues from the coast, and Bucky often saw the shadows of boats sailing above it. It was growing dark, so tonight he wouldn’t lay and look up at the passing shades. It was only his intention to stow away his new findings – a silver ring with jade stones and another instrument, either a tool or an ornament, with a thin silver shaft a little longer than the palm of his hand holding a row of teeth with more jade embedded into the smooth back of the shaft. As he studied it, running his fingers over the smooth back and the bumps of the dull teeth, wondering what purpose it could serve or if it was purely decorative, it began to collect hues of muted but colorful light. He smiled and looked up through the hole of the roof of his cave.

“The booming fire lights,” he murmured to his shoulder octopus, placing the object on a shelf, and shooting quickly up and out of his cave for the surface. Within just a few moments he was near the surface, and so he slowed abruptly, knowing it was always safest to emerge slowly into the air rather than burst forth from below, even if he did benefit from the darkness of the night sky. With the booming fire lights flying above, Bucky knew there was an even smaller chance for any humans to notice him, but his adherence over the years to very basic strategies made his venturing beyond the established boundaries sustainable.

The wind danced across his face as he emerged from the water, cool and swift, but not unpleasant. Wind was such an anomaly to him, he wouldn’t have thought it unpleasant anyway. He watched the colorful lights dancing against the intensely dark sky, seemingly darker than others he’d seen before, but his attention was drawn by something else as well. Not far off from where he was treading at the surface a large sailing ship was gliding along with loads of music and laughter spilling over the sides. Ships in this area making their way to and from the docks of the surface kingdom were frequent, but not usually at the leisurely pace and with such clearly joyful revelry. His heart swelled just a little, and he couldn’t deny the pull toward the celebration. He slunk back down just below the surface, low enough he knew the rapid movements of his tailfins wouldn’t emerge or even disturb the water and swam toward the vessel.

Bucky had seen the ship on approach earlier during his surface patrol. It’s one that usually sat in the harbor, had been gone for a few weeks, and only returning now.

A few moments after he resurfaced, just at the base where the ship met the water, the booming fire lights in the sky ceased, and a shortly thereafter the music died down. The ship was not far off from land, so Bucky assumed the crew had stopped to celebrate with the fire lights and was now starting to make final preparations to conclude their voyage, but his curiosity was not disappointed in venturing closer. Two humans were at the side of the boat conversing directly above him, one leaning a little over the railing, looking out over the waters, and their voices rang out clearly for his ears.

“The people will be proud,” a male voice said.

“I hope so,” your voice drifted down to him.

“They will,” your companion insisted. “Your first royal tour, and you were able to make tremendous diplomatic overtures in many of the kingdoms we visited. In particular, the resurgence of a more active alliance with Wakanda and opening a trade route with them – we hoped for the former, but no one expected the latter. Wakanda hasn’t traded with other countries for generations!”

“With Shuri as the new queen, she was ready to make new inroads, I just happened to be the first delegation they received.”

“I’m sure that was by design.”

“Do you think they’re using us?”

“No, your majesty, as I told you before we set out, I think they were receptive to our diplomatic overtures because as a new queen, she saw you on equal footing as a princess who will soon inherit this kingdom.”

You didn’t respond immediately, and Bucky heard you heave a heavy sigh before speaking again. “Less than a year.”

“You will be ready. You are ready. Shuri initiated the trade negotiations only after she had judged your character, your intelligence, and your tenacity – characteristics noticed by her brother T’Challa, as well.”

“Are you my Prime Minister or my match maker?” you chided.

Your companion laughed, and replied, “As your Prime Minister I do know that the people would certainly rejoice at the prospect of a royal wedding, but I don’t think there will need to be any interference on my part, Princess.”

“The people would certainly rejoice?”

“They would, and of course a happy people makes doing my job easier, but I would also rejoice. I would not have you face the prospect of the crown alone, your highness.”

“I don’t need a husband to rule.”

“No, I know that – only a moment ago I just affirmed how strong your diplomatic skills are. I only say that because I believe you deserve to have a partner to share it with – the weight of the burdens as well as joy in the successes. I’ve always been grateful for my companion in those ways, and your kingdom has benefited from their wisdom as well, for they set me straight when I need to see something differently and everyone else will tell me what I want to hear and not what I need to hear.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Bucky imagined you may have been sharing a look of some sort with your Prime Minister. “T’Challa was someone who gained my respect very quickly and,” you hesitated for a moment, “he was also perhaps someone I began to grow fond of.”

Something burned in the back of Bucky’s throat. He didn’t like hearing you speak of this Wakandan prince. He didn’t like it because your voice was not that of a stranger to him. He had heard you – only a few times but heard you all the same – when he had ventured near the palace on the cliffside, discovering that sunken balcony with steps right into the sea, and other places along that part of the shore. He assumed you were part of the royal household, but this was the first conversation he’d heard indicating you were the crown princess and due to take the throne. He wanted to know more about everything on land, but he was particularly intrigued by what he was learning about you.

“I left with many indications that the Wakandans were interested in reciprocating a royal diplomatic visit presently, and that although Queen Shuri would be unable to leave in the near future, this was a priority moving forward to put stock in the alliance, and there is no one the Queen trusts more than her brother for matters of importance.”

“How conveniently fortuitous for your romantic hopes,” you responded, bracketing it with a soft, warm laugh.

The wind suddenly picked up, there was a deep rumble in the air, and then the sky began to release water down on them. A storm. Bucky had encountered a storm at the surface before, but never with such a heavy pelting of water. The folk on the boat began shouting, and he could hear a bit of their hustling about above the sounds of the storm, but only just. His ears began to buzz, and there was a sharp metallic taste hitting his tongue. Bucky put his hand on the side of the ship to steady himself, starting to feel a little dizzy. The next second there was a blinding light that engulfed everything, with a sharp crack, and an even larger almost deafening crash at the end of it, and then a roaring sound unlike anything Bucky had ever heard before, followed by screaming and shouts from the ship’s crew. Bucky’s heart beat erratically for a few moments, and though the brilliant white light had disappeared, there was now a red and orange glow radiating from the front of the ship.

The splintering of wood, more shouts, and then a boom as the mast of the ship tumbled over, and then fell over the side, and into the water, Bucky just swimming out of the way in time. The whipping of the wind increased even more, bringing big waves that began to beat against the side of the ship, causing it to rock and creak.

Bucky retreated below the surface, and looked up seeing other things beginning to fall into the water, boxes, row boats, a body swathed with swirling skirts. Bucky’s body was full of adrenaline already from that wicked flash of destructive light, body feeling out of sorts, but he was horrifically transfixed on that body, waiting for the limbs to react, to move, but they didn’t.

Someone from the ship’s crew would see, they would leap in after to retrieve the displaced human.

Any second.

But what continued to appear at the surface, after another flash of light, were more object, planks of wood, and the body remained motionless, continuing to sink.

He couldn’t leave the human helpless.

Surging upwards, Bucky snaked his arm around the torso of the human, tucking it against his side, and then rushed to the surface. He looked around, scoping out the situation, but found nothing but more chaos. The human crew on the deck of the ship were distracted entirely in what was happening immediately around them, no one seeming to look over the side at all in search of a missing body because now the small boats were being cast into the water and all the crew were calling out, “Abandon ship!”

Bucly looked down at the head that had lolled back to rest on his shoulder and his heart stuttered because though it was dark and stormy and he’d never been anywhere near this close, he was certain it was you, the crown princess in his arms. Bucky groaned in distress. He was already in a compromising position, he couldn’t leave you here with little assurance that you would be rescued – certainly not without him helping you in your unconscious state – and each passing second mounted his concern over if you were even still alive. He brought a trembling hand to the side of your neck to see if he could feel a heartbeat. Do humans have heartbeats? he wondered, but assumed they must since merfolk like himself did, and humans and merfolk seemed to share near identical bodies from the waist up. Detecting a heartbeat seemed futile at this moment, tossing about in the sea, with his own hand unsteady.

Without another thought, he tightened his hold beneath your arms, swirled to face land, and franticly beat his fins to take you away from the wreckage, realizing there was nothing left to do but swim you to the shore himself.

Bucky knew the shore too well for a merman, far better than he knew ever to admit to anyone in Asgard, but his extensive familiarity meant in this instant he had no question of where he needed to go, and time was precious. Grateful for the hightide of nighttime, Bucky had to make very little effort to get the two of you up onto the balcony that lay at the bottom of the cliffs just below the palace – the very one he had spoken to Steve about only an hour before. Bucky gently shifted you onto your back on the smooth granite, cradling your head in one of his large hands. His other hand furiously brushed his long hair out of his face, then came up to your neck, seeking signs of your heartbeat again. It was faint, but he could feel it consistently pulsing under his fingertips.

Tension he didn’t realize he’d been carrying released in his chest.

You were still alive.

He’d felt dizzy with that streak of violent light, so perhaps you had been affected as well and may have also hit something in the water when you fell off the ship. He brushed his thumb softly over your cheek. “Come on, Princess, you need to wake up.”

Still unresponsive, he rubbed your cheek a little more firmly, then moved his hand down to squeeze your shoulder. He continued murmuring softly, trying to coax you back to consciousness. After a few more minutes, he finally felt you beginning to come around, noting the moment when instead of your head lying dormant in his hand, your muscles started to move and adjust. “That’s it, Princess,” he cooed.

You groaned and pressed your cheek into Bucky’s palm. His heart ached and raced, realizing the reality of his situation.

He hesitated for a split second, loathe to leave you, but he carefully eased your head onto the ground, removed his hands from you, and slipped away and back into the sea before you could see him.

As he swam as fast as he could, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and he did not stop until he was home, only slowing to a speed that would not draw attention when he neared the outskirts of the underwater kingdom, knowing he could never even hint at his involvement in saving the life of a human. His mind raced with the enormity of what he’d done, and the only reason he slept at all that night was due to the exhaustion from maintaining such a high-speed swim over the long distance to return home.

His body was refreshed in the morning, but his mind was not. Bucky knew he had a day ahead of him filled with his duties as a royal guard, but every fiber of his being yearned to rise to the surface and seek you out – only to ensure you were safely recovering from the shipwreck ordeal.

“You’re not tricking anyone always taking the assignments to investigate new shipwrecks, patrol the outskirts, and monitor security near the surface,” Sam said as they left the command post for the guard in the golden palace of Asgard after the morning briefing and assignments.

Bucky shot him a sidelong glance. “What did Steve say to you.”

“Steve didn’t say anything to me,” Sam chuckled. “I know you, and this is becoming more frequent.”

“If someone has to take care of these responsibilities anyway, why not me?” Bucky tried to keep his tone casual, adding a shrug.

Sam didn’t respond. Bucky looked over at him.

Sam put up his hands nonchalantly. “If you say so.”

Bucky stopped and turned to face him. “Say what you feel so compelled to say.”

“I don’t think Thor will be as angry as Odin would have been about your human obsession, but he won’t be happy about it. The laws are there for a reason. You know that.”

Bucky shook his head in irritation. “I’m not in any danger.”

“I’m not scolding you, Buck, but Odin would have had your fins nailed to the floor.”

The little octopus on Bucky’s shoulder squirmed. Bucky stroked it soothingly. “Thor’s not Odin, but no one is going to tell Thor anything because there’s nothing to tell.”

“Just be careful.”

“You also volunteered to mapping part of the uncharted reef with me today,” Bucky reminded him.

“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get lost or lose track of time,” he said with a grin.

Bucky laughed. “Come on then, morning light is best for scoping out the reef.”

The day was spent adding to the empty edges of the map of the reef. Thor had commissioned further exploration and completion of the maps of their land and the surrounding seas, placing great importance on better knowing the kingdom and her neighbors. Scratching the new lines and shadings into the sheaves of seaweed brought its own sense of satisfaction, and it did fill his mind for the day and distract him for the most part. He returned to Asgard with Sam at the end of the day, no detours. He ate with other members of the guard before returning home. He slept, but then he woke before dawn, leaving in the darkness, and began swimming to the shore. Would you be at the seaside balcony at the crack of dawn? He didn’t expect so, but he would scope it out all the same, and he was sure if he did not see you he could safely sneak to the port docks and hear news of you – now that he knew you were the crown princess, any word regarding the return of a royal after a shipwreck and her wellbeing would be the gossip of the morning.

Merfolk and humans were no different in that way, Bucky thought with a smirk.

The sun was only just sending its rays over the edge of the horizon when he reached the shore. You were not at the seaside balcony of the palace, and he only lingered for a few minutes, eyes fixed on the spot where he’d held your face in his hands.

Two mornings after the shipwreck, the docks at the port were still busier than Bucky normally saw them. He had to stay further below and only came up to the surface twice, but that was all he needed to hear that the people’s princess was recovering without anything more than a nasty bump to the head and exhaustion.

He swam past and surfaced near the balcony again before heading back for another day of Asgardian life and duties. You weren’t there, of course.

But that night, you were.

He watched you watch the stars until you retired for the night.

Three mornings later Bucky was off for the day, so he ventured back to the shoreline mid-morning, hoping he would catch you at some point during the day. He had encountered you there a few times after all.

And you did not disappoint.

You sat on the top step that led from the balcony down into the water, pulled up your skirts, and began loosening the laces of your shoes. Soon you had them off along with whatever fabric was covering your feet beneath the shoes – he wondered what those were called. They looked delicate. Then you scooted down to sit a few steps lower, letting your feet dangle in the sea. Bucky dipped far below the surface and swam closer to the wall of the cliff. When he came up again, he slipped up onto an outcropping of rocks out of your view, leaning his bare back against the cliff face. He was only meters away from where you were still sitting. He could hear you idly raising and lowering your feet out of the waters as it was a very calm day for the tide.

After a long while, he heard you sigh. “Everyone thinks I’m crazy, but I know I didn’t make it up. You aren’t a miracle or a myth, you’re proof the merfolk aren’t extinct and that they’re not dangerous.”

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat. He thought he’d been silent or quiet enough with the other sounds of the sea.

“You’re out there somewhere. I’ll find you.”

He did not move until he heard you leave, then he slipped into the deep blue, a rushing in his ears, heart pounding, resolved to keep his distance.

Only that resolve didn’t last long. He was drawn to you as much as he was to everything above water, and within a week he was back, but he came at the end of the day. You weren’t there, but he hoisted himself back up on the same outcropping of rock at the base of the cliff near but still out of view of the steps. The view of the sunset was stunning, steeped with deep reds and oranges, and sitting there taking in the sight you might have been able to see was enough.

And better.

This was safe.

Then he heard the faint sound of voices far off, steadily growing, then footsteps descending on the stairs. Two sets of footsteps, and then finally he could make out the voices, recognizing both – yours and that of your Prime Minister.

“Everything is ready to receive the royal envoy. Prince T’Challa sent this letter ahead for you.”

“Oh.”

Bucky registered a hint of something in your voice even in just that simple sound alone that pricked at him.

“Oh,” your tone was even warmer.

“A good letter?”

“That is not really your business, Prime Minister,” you laughed, and he chuckled.

“A royal alliance in absolutely my business,” he said, though the Prime Minister’s tone was clearly in jest, ultimately content in deferring to your rank and privacy.

“I will say it is certainly a letter anyone could be fond of,” you offered in a gentle voice.

That consumed Bucky immediately. He didn’t want this prince to lay claim to your heart and draw this kind of affection from you. He wanted that chance. His tail twitched with his impatience, splashing up some water. Bucky instantly stilled, pressing back against the cliff face.

But neither of you seemed not to notice.

The conversation turned to more business about the visit, and Bucky continued to listen, wanting to hear your voice, but none of the words registered in his head.

After a while, Bucky realized the voices had stopped, but he had no idea when that had happened. The sun had disappeared completely, the celestial bodies of the night sky had come out and were shining brightly against the darkness. The position of the moon indicated it must be near midnight. Bucky groaned, his shoulders and back a little stiff after sitting so long in one attitude against the rocks. You must have gone away and to sleep ages ago, and he ought to follow suit. He pushed up and off the perch, making a small dive into the sea to return home.

What he did not know was that you had stayed long after dismissing the Prime Minister, watching the sky until the very last rays of the sunset, but as you were about to retire had heard the twitching of fins against the water close at hand and out of curiosity climbed down the steps to the water’s edge to investigate. You had seen only the end of a set of large, shimmering black and gold fins and the lower part of a black-scaled tail. Your breath had stopped, and you’d had to stifle your sound of shock. You hadn’t dared to get to the bottom of the steps and look around the edge, certain that if it was one of the merfolk you’d heard the myths of your whole life that they would retreat immediately if they knew you’d seen them, but you had moved as far to the other end of the balcony as you could to see more of that glorious tail – but still not revealing much more to your view – and waited.

And all your patience had been rewarded when you saw the arms, head, shoulders, and torso of a man dive into the water, magnificent black and gold tail with intricate and powerful fins following him in all his glory.

Now you knew they still existed.

No, Bucky knew none of that.

Bucky’s mind is singularly fixed on all the things he can’t have – things he’s wondered about since hearing about the human surface world as a merchild, things he saw during his observatory rite of passage visit when he turned sixteen, things he’s seen over the years since then through his own exploration above and below the surface, and the everything just out of his reach now with you. He goes first to his grotto, and here the number of things he’s collected from the human world far surpass the number of things he knows about you, but he can’t deny the draw he feels. His chest aches, and yet he’s forbidden from doing anything – if there even were anything he could do.

Being among the relics of the human world only serves to agitate him more, and so he leaves and makes his way to his home cavern in the city of Asgard. Sleep is impossible. He swims short, agitated lengths back and forth within his humble dwelling.

He has a few relics here, too, but these are things passed down from his parents, including his grandfather’s combat spear. The royal armory holds weapons and all manner of protective outfitting for his majesty’s armies, but long past are the days when the kingdom issued gear to every soldier and officer. Many under the early days of Odin’s reign were issued personal pieces as a standard, but that ebbed away as the need and dangers faded or were conquered. The height of need had been in the early days of Bor Burison’s reign – Bor who had enacted the stringent regulations against fraternizing with the humans or spending any significant amount of time at the surface.

Bucky had naturally collected many pieces of the history of their people in relation to the humans, but he had never visited the royal archives. He’d always made at least a modicum of effort to keep his interest in everything looking exactly like that – an interest and not an obsession – and a visit to the archives to read and study the records of their interactions with the humans would not be seen as an idle interest.

Now he didn’t care. He needed to know everything; perception be damned.

He swam off some of his anxious energy making laps around the borders of the city surrounding the palace until dawn when the elders would open the archives. It was a collection that spanned art, statues, treasures, and artifacts, in addition to the records of the merfolk of Asgard. Some of their history had been created in murals along the walls of this hall, but there were also panes of etched glass and titanium for important long-term records, as well as various scrolls and sheaves of tough seaweed for maps and other documents. One of the elders pointed him to the area most applicable to their past dealings with the humans, and he started from the most recent records and started to make his way back through Asgard’s history. Bucky collection of events even more complex than he’d known began to coalesce as he combed through the accounts of things that played out over a few years, ending in a bloody battle between Buri – Thor’s great-grandfather – and the human king and his navy with many lives lost on both sides, including Buri, leading to Bor’s untimely ascension to the crown at an age earlier than anyone expected, and Bor instituting all the laws, principles, and practices to eliminate any contact with the surface world, deeming too much had been lost and that humans had become too dangerous to continue any dealings whatsoever if they wanted to keep the people of Asgard safe.

But Buri’s had inherited peaceful ties – positive ties even – with the folk on land, ties that had been forged by his father and grandfather before him. To say this was intriguing to Bucky would be an understatement. These ties were entwined with the selkies of Jotunheim.

Odin had beat back the selkies from their waters.

All except one.

Bucky knew of a selkie still in existence.

Exiled, but Bucky was fairly sure he knew where he could find the long-forgotten adopted brother of Thor, rumored now to be the warlock of the seven seas.

Bucky was questing for information, for answers, but tales of the things the former prince who had embraced his magic had done since leaving the gleaming halls of Asgard were whispered, and Bucky began to wonder if perhaps he could get more than he set out for by paying him a visit.

He need not have worried about finding him. As one of the pre-eminent cartographers on the royal guard, Bucky knew where to begin his search, but once he got to that point on the fringes, there seemed to be a myriad of elements to point him straight to Loki’s dark cavern.

There must have been enchantments to alert the sea warlock of his approach because Loki was waiting for him at the entrance to his lair. Bucky took in the sight of him as he drew near. Odin had invoked powers to conceal Loki’s true nature as a selkie and disguised him as a merman when he brought the infant into the royal family, and though Loki’s rebellion came during the early years of Bucky’s service in the king’s guard, Bucky had never seen him in his true form.

He was not that different from what Bucky had known him as before. The marked difference was that instead of scales and fins, his lower half was covered in the pelt of a seal, still beautiful and shiny in its own way, but with flippers instead of fins, and it was a skin that he could shed – for legs above ground. That and his flesh skin seemed sallow, but his eyes were still sharp.

“James, after all this time, and now you come to visit me,” he crooned. “You must be truly desperate to come to me for help.”

Bucky furrowed his brow, not anticipating this direct nature, and he was wary of what it meant.

In Bucky’s half-second of hesitation to answer, Loki’s face took on a dark grin and he continued his overture. “For that’s why you are here, is it not? No social calls on your part since I left the palace – not that we were particularly close. I didn’t expect overtures of our continued acquaintance since leaving Asgard, but seeing you swim into my waters at any point was certainly not something I ever predicted would happen.”

Bucky hovered near, but not within reach of the warlock. “It’s true I come to you with particular needs, but I harbor no bad blood for the past.”

Loki nodded, then turned and swam inside, calling, “Come in,” over his shoulder.

Bucky followed.

The circumstances surrounding the final confrontation that took place between Thor, Odin, and Loki during the latter’s rebellion were not public knowledge, and though Odin died that same day, Loki’s departure from the kingdom was a self-exile, and Thor and the then Queen Frigga maintained that Odin did not die at Loki’s hand and forbade anyone pursue the fallen prince. Thor had assumed the throne, Loki had wandered in mystery, as yet not returning to his once-home, and had settled now in this place.

They swam through a tunnel toward a faint glow ahead. Something continually reached out, whisping across Bucky’s skin as they passed, and he was unsure if it was plant or creature, but he had the distinct impression these were sentient and intentional touches. Bucky was forced to endure at the pace at which Loki progressed ahead of him.

They emerged into a massive cavern aglow with filtered light streaming in through gaps in the ceiling and glowing plants that cropped up in patches along the walls. One of the cavern’s faces was riddled with nooks and alcoves that were packed with bottles, pots, artifacts, tools, supplies – it was all an eerie collection Bucky imagined had been clearly amassed with meticulous obsession, knowing the habits of being a collector himself. Each spot his eyes darted to held both familiar and unfamiliar items.

Loki stopped, floating near the middle of the lair, and Bucky followed suit. The selkie swirled languidly around to look at him, and though his posture appeared relaxed, Bucky could see the true scrutiny in his eyes.

He kept the silence, eagerly sowing the anticipation, before he spoke again. “Know that I entertain you only for the sake of my own curiosity.”

Ah, he understood, at least I know the approach. He opened his mouth, ready to unfold his explanation, but Loki abruptly raised his hand, and Bucky thought it was only to stop him, but then something entwined both of his arms out of nowhere, gripping him and drawing him nearly chest to chest with the warlock.

“No, no. this will be more satisfying for me than your words,” Loki said, then put his nimble fingers to Bucky’s temples, and closed his eyes.

Bucky winced as almost immediately he wasn’t in physical pain, but he swore he could practically feel Loki sifting through his head, extracting what he wanted from the memories that flashed rapidly across his mind – Steve, maps, the records, conversations with his father, pieces of his artefact collection, his trips to the surface, the shipwreck, and you. So many thoughts of you. Bucky tried not to move, not wanting to show any weakness.

“Mmm, I see,” he said, finally releasing him both from his own touch and from the grip of the enchanted seaweed.

Bucky was only too glad that Loki retreated. It was only a meter, but any inch of distance was relished after feeling so exposed. There was no taking back the flashes, but at least most of the concentration had been on the human things, a few moments of you, but not every memory he had of you.

He let the quiet permeate the space between them again. Then he turned around, a smile on his face, and it was nothing but unsettling, too relaxed for Bucky’s liking.

He knew he was being toyed with, but he had to play whatever game Loki was setting up.

Finally, he spoke again. “Clearly the way to get what you want is to become a human yourself.”

“And you can do that?”

“I fortunately knew a little magic, and my talent and knowledge have only grown in my exile, so I could, but what in the vast ocean is in this for me?”

“The challenge,” Bucky responded, employing a slight incline of his chin – a tactic he had used with others to inspire or sway them over the years.

“Oh, but I want more than that, and so do you, you want this with everything in your soul.”

Bucky could feel how much Loki was enjoying this. Loki literally had the power, but that put him in a position that Bucky still knew he could use in this game.

“Here’s my offer: you’ll get your legs, you’ll be able to breathe on land – so not under the sea – and by the time the sun sets on the third day, if you haven’t procured true love’s kiss –“

“True love’s kiss?” Bucky interjected.

“But, of course! That’s what you want anyway, is it not?”

The smirk on his face riled Bucky even more, but he was determined to appear as unaffected as he could, even though he knew they both knew Bucky was keyed up to great heights.

“Yes, you are intrigued by the life on land, but you’re here because you want the heart of that princess.” Loki pauses and tilts his head, demanding the admission.

Bucky nodded.

That kindled a spark of something more in Loki’s eye.

“You said I have until sunset on the third day. What happens if I don’t succeed by then?”

Loki shrugged. “You turn back into a merman and you serve me for thirteen years.”

Bucky blinked before responding. He thought he would say for life, but only thirteen years?

Loki chuckled. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, but I may not want you longer than that. Now, if you succeed, you remain a human and live a human life up there with your beloved princess for the rest of your days,” he concludes, almost bored by the end.

“No interference from you in the future?”

Loki waved his hand as he replies, “No interference from me. But,” and his tone switched, fully engaged again, “we haven’t discussed the matter of payment.”

“You can have any of my gold or treasures.”

“I have enough of my own. I want something more unique. I’m not asking for much, just a token really, a trifle.

He paused.

“What I want from you is your voice.”

“My voice?” Bucky’s mind worked quickly, trying to work out what he was missing if he agred to give up his voice. Aside from the logistical inconvenience and disadvantage it would present on his part, he can’t imagine what Loki would gain by having it – it seemed to be an eccentric choice.

“Your voice.”

Why ask for that? Bucky’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Clearly it was something to further taunt Bucky and entertain Loki.

Then Loki unexpectedly seemed to soften, relaxing his posture. “I understand perhaps more than you anticipated. I empathize with your unrest, the way you yearn to know a part of you that’s been denied.”

They didn’t have the same circumstances, but Bucky sees where they could draw parallels with each other.

“What you’re asking would enormously alter your destiny. Your voice is almost nothing if what you truly want is to become human and live out your days with that princess your soul longs for.”

Those words were spoken without flair. Bucky only needed to agree to get what he wanted – he couldn’t have crafted a better scenario considering what any of the alternatives could have been. It was a bizarre barter – his voice for a chance at life out of these waters – but it did seem to fit the weight of what he was being offered.

“Now, do you agree to the terms?”

“I agree.”

Loki’s wide smile reappeared, and he turned away to fetch and summon different items from his wall of endless supplies, and soon there was a round glass jar between them, just larger than the size of a head with a small spout meant for pouring things in and out. Vials, jars, and some loose elements hovered near Loki’s shoulders, and he waved his hand twice in a circular motion beneath the glass jar. The water there continued to stir, and Bucky could feel the warmth it generated. Loki began to add ingredients into the spout, and they swirled in the orb. Loki murmured a few short incantations, and there were cracks and rumblings from the concoction.

“Put your palms against the glass and hum until you can’t hum anymore,” Loki instructed.

It was yet another peculiarity, but Bucky didn’t question. He placed both hands as indicated and started to hum. He could feel the heat immediately, and as he continued to hum, he could sense the exchange as his voice was drawn continuously from the depths of his chest and magic slithered through his veins. Once he felt it seep into every inch of him, the energy surged suddenly. His throat seized, there was a searing pain through his lower half, and he wanted to withdraw his hands to clutch at his neck, to kick away, but whatever magic was brewing prevented him from pulling back at all. His chest tightened painfully. There was a flash of light that rivaled the violent flash in the sky that struck the ship the night of the shipwreck, the searing pain burst in his tail, and then all at once he was released.

The discombobulation was overwhelming. His powerful tail and fins were gone, and he realized how unsuited for this setting he was, the new limbs altogether inadequate, and his lungs were desperate for air. He kicked and surged upward, but he’d even lost the slight webbing between his fingers that had helped him glide more quickly through the water.

Loki’s laughter followed him as he made his escape from the depths of the sea.

The octopus companion that had peculiarly clung to his shoulder on one chance expedition and rarely let go unfurled itself and diligently aided Bucky in swimming to reach the surface where he burst into the air, gulping in lungful’s of air. It was crisp and immediately quenched all of the dread and desperation that had filled his being.

Then the next breaths soothed and then invigorated him. He laughed with relief.

Only there was no sound.

For he had no voice.

to be continued...

A/N 3: SHUT UP, YOU GET A THIRD AND FINAL NOTE FROM ME TO YOU! This - clearly - is part one of two. I dove DEEP into this (shush, puns) and to tell the story I know I will feel satisfied with in the end, I got to this point and joked that maybe I should just stop here - who needs to resolve any plots, he got his legs, right? - but then the joke became the option I genuinely liked because I was getting overwhelmed by how this story had grown. And so, dear readers, keep a weather eye on the horizon for merBucky to reappear with the tide.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #merbucky #bucky barnes x reader #mermay #bucky barnes x female reader #navy and roo's sleepover #buckybarnesbingo2023 #bbb2023 #connect4au #female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x y/n #mer!bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader

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the-common-cowgirl · 2 months

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Chapter 1 - Intro

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x OFC (Anikyra Targaryen)

Summary: The Peaceful King Viserys hears word of a Targaryen Princess that resides in the broken stronghold of Valyria; which has since become an immature kingdom after of the doom befell their land. Feeling the tension between his house and believing the long night may soon come, Viserys proposes a betrothal between the Valyrian Princess and his second son, Aemond Targaryen, believing his daughter’s prophetic dream that the child born of this union will become the prince that was promised.

Warnings (Ch. specific): Mentions of murder and usurpation.

Word Count: 1600

A/N: AHA! First chapter of this rework done! Probably going to work on finishing The Lost Children after this unless this gets a lot of attention lol.

Masterlist

Dawn awakened over the vast land that once was the great stronghold of Valyria; now an emerging kingdom over the broken land. The red, hot sun greeted her on the east side of her balcony and the beautiful, bright rays danced along the pale, blue water of the sea that faced her to the south. The large, shiny, black castle, mounted on the side of a great mount of stone and soot, stood tall above the city. She could see the hustle of morning coming and goings of the smallfolk below her who now resembled crawling ants. She often sat high above them on warm dawns with her tea, wondering if, although their lives were harsh and rough, were they simpler? Were those people below her free in the choices they made or were they too, confined to a blind duty born of their station? Did they have autonomy over their beating hearts or were they too a prisoner in their own personal hell?

She doubted it.

She heard a door open in the distance behind her and knew her handmaiden was coming to ready her; she also knew the handmaiden would be bearing news in which she dreaded. News of the scheming of the King of Valyria and another King of a distant land. News that would be comparable to news of her own execution; at least, in her mind. She did not want to hear it but she knew it would come regardless of her wishes. So, she decided to muster up her courage, to take her cup with now cool tea and walk into her bedchambers to hear if this was the news her handmaiden would be bearing.

“Princess, a messenger has sent word that the Targaryens of Westeros have embarked on their journey here.”

The ‘False Targaryens’ you mean.

She all but slammed her cup on a table, nearly breaking the fragile porcelain, angered by the audacity of these Westerosi to come here and believe they have any sort of claim to what was once their homeland. A homeland they were exiled from when Aenar defiled the name “Targaryen '' by gambling his riches awash then trying to make good on his debts by stealing his elder brother’s, Aelys Targaryen, dragon eggs. Aelys should have not only exiled him, but executed him. No, her ancestor, Aelys, allowed his brother to be exiled comfortably with his family, a dragon and a handful of eggs. After the doom befell Valyria, all the dragons fell from the sky, burning from the outside in, and Aelys’ only daughter requested help from the Westerosi. She asked for Aenar to bring his dragons and help what remained of the dragonlords escape the wrecked ruins of what was their home. Aenar responded with a simple “Nyke ivestragon Aelys hen bisa vejes” [I tell Aelys of this doom]. So, desperate for help and to save the remains of her people, she took it upon herself as the last highborn blood of the dragonlords alive, she turned to head to Asshai…and the Taragryens rose from the ashes…without the help of the last of their kin.

“Princess?” Her handmaiden approached lightly and slowly; holding out her hand as if she were approaching a deadly beast that needed to sniff her first to know she’s not a threat.

“Yes, Tiah. I understand the words you spoke. I know they are coming. I’d be more content today if you chose to not speak of it. Is that understood?” She snapped with an edge to her voice she wasn’t intending upon. Realizing she was staring harshly toward her handmaiden, she softened her stance slightly and turned away to hide the outburst; lip twitching with residual anger.

Tiah, she thought, only a year older than I but such a meek and foolish girl still.

Her handmaiden took two steps back briskly. She held her head down and hands clasped behind her back. “Yes, your Grace. I will not speak further about them.” Like an obedient dog.

The Princess, overcome with emotion of anger she did not want to process nor dim, yet also, feeling the need to apologize to her poor handmaiden who was only doing her duty in informing Princess of the updates that the walls of the castle echoed, decided to walk out to the balcony again instead of apologizing for her misdirected anger.

Tiah is not the enemy here. Keep your head clear. Breathe.

After some time, the Princess decided to walk back into her bedchambers yet again, call upon her handmaiden, and ask for help dressing in a gown. She did not care which gown her handmaiden decided to pick, as long as it was light in this warming daylight and allowed her to breathe unrestrictedly. The day was hot and will grow hotter as the sun crawls higher into the sky. Tiah picked a thin silken gown that would allow her to stroll the castle on this day of summer without becoming faint. Emerald green silk with gold filigree embroidered on the sleeves and either side of her torso. It showed off a hint of her collarbone and she decided that it was an acceptable amount of skin to show to court. The Princess’ left hand slid along her exposed collarbone. Slender fingers caressing her soft skin.

I will not become some broodmare for a false dragon. She reminded herself in the mirror. I am the true daughter of Valyria. The last true dragon of Valyria and I will not let the false Targaryens of Westeros feast upon my body with their eyes. I will not bend, nor will I break.

She thought of her mother and how she did not bend, nor break to her father’s whims. The beautiful “Light of Valyria” remained gentle but firm in her hold of power. How her mother loved her father deeply but it was her who sat the throne. How her father helped raise Valyria from the ruins and strengthened their fledgling kingdom, his duty born purely out of the love he held for her mother. Despite all of their love, duty, and power, they only produced a single child. One daughter.

Naturally, being the “First Child of Valyria,” she would be the heir uncontended; free to marry whomever she wanted, regardless of status or power. If only the natural order of things were so easy to abide by.

The day they revolted against her father, the King Consort, she had viewed her mother’s face for the first time for who she truly was: a monster. Only a monster would sentence their true love to death. Only a monster would marry the man who usurped her father’s place and allow him to stand beside her throne as her new King Consort. Only a monster would lie with the man who murdered her only child’s father and only a monster would give birth to the most precious being in this world.

Her younger sister. Only four years younger but still so very wise and kind. The only person in this world whom Anikyra has ever had to love and cherish. The only one who had ever claimed to love her and didn’t abandon her for the sweet taste of death. The young Princess Scilia was the very image of their mother. Pale hair, purple eyes, touched by the dawn and the light above. She always wore light colors as well; an homage to her mother. The elder sister sometimes even thought that Scilia was the Sun itself; especially when times were dark and cruel. Many referred to the young Princess as “The Light Princess.”

Those very people had a similar name for the elder Princess. A name she did not care to refute as she knew the truth in it. When she was born, in the month of the Sapphire, her father was so happy his child would carry a reminder of him, regardless how small. The midwives called it “touch of dark.” Her mother called it “soul of the dragon.” But the people of the great castle called her “The Dark Princess,” for the small patch of black hair on the right side of her head, intertwined in her long, thick silver locks.

Those names, those whispers as she walked the slick, black floors of the castle, they gave life to the fire burning within her. Gave life to the rage she felt. Gave life and all that is unholy to the plan she had laid before herself once she heard the news, fourteen years ago, that her mother had been taken out of the castle a month after the birth of the Usurper King’s first child, the child that sealed his place on the throne, and executed in secret by the that very man. By the Usurper, her Father-by-law. She may be the heir to her parent’s murder’s kingdom, but this kingdom will bend the knee to her and her alone. She will take her realm back by blood.

She found herself in front of the massive iron double doors to the throne room. As they opened, the large crowd of the court turned all eyes toward her and dared not look away for even a moment, as they always had done. The masses watched the predator in the eyes of the Dark Princess at all times for sign of a threat, waiting anxiously for the day she finally snaps and ends the man who murdered the very couple who gave her life.

She began ascending into the throne room, straight toward the Valyrian Throne where the now-King sat and a voice called out before her.

”Princess Anikyra of the great House Targaryen. First child of Valyria, Heir to the Valyrian throne.”

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#house of the dragon #fanfic #aemond targaryen #false dragons #house of the dragon fandom #house of the dragon aemond #hotd aemond #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond x ofc #aemond x oc #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond

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princessmyrcellaofwinterfell · 4 months

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AU: The Age of Queens, How It Could End

The end of the Targaryen and Baratheon civil wars, and in turn their bloodlines, was defined in the era now known as “The Age of Queens”.

Queen Daenerys Targaryen, the restorer, served as the first of this Age’s Queen. Known in her time as the Mother of Dragons and the Breaker of Chains, history remember the last true born Targaryen as “the Bloody Queen” for the immense death toll under her rule. Historian attribute the unprecedented death toll of small folk and nobles alike to a disastrous combination of dragon fire, her immense army, and unknown diseases carried across the Narrow Sea.

Queen Myrcella Baratheon, the bastard, was crowned with the support of House Martell upon the defeat of the Targaryen queen and her dragons. Married to Prince Trystane of Dorne before her coronation, the former Princess’ reign was short lived. Marred by rumors of bastardy and facing the threat of a legitimate Baratheon heir, Myrcella was abandoned by her supporters and executed in the name of Queen Shireen Baratheon, having only enjoyed nine days on the Iron Throne.

Queen Shireen Baratheon, the unlikely, is remembered as the most successful of this Age’s Queens, leading the recovery of the Seven Kingdoms after the bloody War of Five Kings and the subsequent civil wars of succession. A popular Queen, Shireen was known in her time as “the Virgin Queen” for her refusal to marry and her commitment to the Kingdom, her true love and devotion. Historians remember her best as the “ender of bloodlines,” a controversial title to be sure depending on their reasoning but the fact remains that with her death, Westeros lost the last true born heir with ties to the Baratheon and Targaryen bloodlines.

In the end, the best remembered Queen of the Age was not a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms but that of its northern neighbor, the Stark Queen. Queen Sansa Stark, the wolf queen, ruled as a contemporary to Queen Shireen; having negotiated their independence upon the restoration of Baratheon rule in the South. Historians attribute their decades long friendship as the reason for Queen Shireen’s decision to name the Stark Queen’s second born son, Prince Brandon Stark, as her heir. A highly debated decision today, it proved to be an well respected decision at its time; aided by the popularity of the Stark Queen in the South and the rumors of the man who fathered her children. No official record remains of the North’s first prince consort but well substantiated rumors at the time named him a bastard made prince, a hero of the Long Night, of Baratheon or Targaryen blood.

The Westeros “Age of Queens” came to an end with the death of Queen Shireen Baratheon in the South. A decade later, the death of Queen Sansa Stark in the North, marked the official beginning of “The Stark Age,” aptly named for the Stark Kings that ruled the two Westeros kingdoms: King Brandon Stark, First of His Name, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms and King Robb Stark, Second of His Name, King of the North.

#asoiaf #game of thrones #fics I wish I could write #daenerys targaryen #myrcella baratheon #shireen baratheon #sansa stark #Myrcella deserves better #maybe jonsa #actually jonsa #actually gendrya #to clarify Brandon Stark II is Arya’s kid but obviously nothing could threaten Shireens rule

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fandomtrumpshate · 3 months

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Unlisted Fandom Challenge

Two days ago, at our last Unlisted Fandom Challenge update, we had a 3-way tie for first. Today? One of those fandoms has taken the lead AND a new fandom that hadn't had even a single signup before has jumped all the way into a 4-way tie for second. Your fandom could do the same, in the hours still left before signups close!

At present, our leaderboard looks like this:

7 Danny Phantom

5 Carmen Sandiego (2019) 5 For All Mankind 5 Tortall 5 Yu Yu Hakusho

4 Ace Attorney 4 Alan Wake/Remedyverse 4 Formula 1 RPF 4 Ted Lasso 4 The Goblin Emperor Series - Katherine Addison 4 The Stanley Parable

3 Greek Mythology/Religion 3 Buffyverse 3 Bungo Stray Dogs 3 Call of Duty 3 Detective Conan 3 Dragon Ball 3 HBO War 3 Kingdom Hearts 3 Persona Series: 3-5 3 Professional Wrestling 3 Realm of the Elderlings - Robin Hobb 3 Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab 3 The Mummy films 1999-2008 3 Undertale

Given the way Carmen Sandiego came from *nowhere* to tie for 2nd place, a single signup really can shake things up! And for the next few hours, signups are STILL OPEN! Do the thing!

The rest of our unlisted write-in fandoms under the cut for length -

2 Ghosts (TV) 2 Black Sails 2 Cosmere 2 CSI 2 Cyberpunk 2077 2 Dead Friend Forever 2 Death Stranding 2 Dice Punks (podcast) 2 Dimension 20 2 Donten ni Warau / Laughing Under the Clouds 2 Dracula 2 Dune 2 Firefly 2 Glee 2 Guardian/Zhen Hun 2 Hermitcraft/The Life Series SMP 2 Imperial Radch Series 2 Inception 2 JoJo's Bizarre Adventure 2 Mob Psycho 100 2 Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury 2 Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint 2 Ordem Paranormal Quarentena 2 QSMP / Quackity SMP 2 Riverdale 2 Saw 2 Slow Horses (TV Show) 2 South Park 2 Stormlight Archive 2 The Bear (TV) 2 The Empyrean - Rebecca Yarros 2 The Folk of the Air (Holly Black) 2 The Radiant Emperor Series 2 Venture Bros 2 Voltron 2 Wolf Pack 1 1670 1 A Court of Fey & Flowers 1 a league of their own (TV series) 1 A Plague Tale (Videogame Series) 1 American Gods 1 Among Us 1 Bandom RPF (Bad Omens) 1 Bandom RPF (Lorna Shore) 1 Bandom RPF (Motionless In White) 1 Beastars 1 Bendy (and The Ink Machine/Dark Revival) 1 Horror 1 Bioshock 1&2 1 Blue Beetle 1 Blue Eye Samurai 1 Books of the Raksura 1 Boondock Saints 1 Breakfast With Scot 1 Bunny - Mona Awad 1 Buzzfeed Unsolved/Watcher Entertainment RPF 1 Cabin Pressure 1 Cats the musical 1 Charlie's Angels (2019) 1 Cherry Magic 1 Chronicles of Narnia 1 Cobra Kai 1 Coffee Talk (Video Game) 1 Criminal Minds 1 Death Note 1 Devil May Cry 1 Dexter 1 Digimon 1 Discworld - Terry Pratchett 1 Disney Theatrical Animated Universe 1 Divergent 1 DMBJ (Grave Robber's Chronicles) - Xu Lei 1 Dream SMP 1 Dungeons and Daddies (podcast) 1 Endeavour/Morseverse/Inspector Morse (ITV/Dexter) 1 Ensemble Stars!! 1 Fallout Video Game (Bethesda) 1 Falsettos 1 Fargo FX 1 Farscape 1 Fire Emblem (4-10, 13, 14, 16) 1 Five Nights at Freddy's 1 Friends at the Table 1 Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid 1 Grantchester 1 Green Creek 1 Grey's Anatomy 1 Grimm 1 Gundam (see below for details) 1 Hatchetfield 1 Hawaii 5.0 1 Hello From The Hallowoods 1 High School Musical 1 Higurashi no Naku Koro ni 1 Hollow Knight 1 Honkai Star Rail 1 Horizon Zero Dawn 1 Infinity Train 1 IT (Movies - Muschietti) 1 Jeff Satur - music videos 1 Julie and the Phantoms 1 Kushiel's Legacy 1 Law and Order 1 Legend of the Galactic Heroes 1 Live Free or Die Hard (Die Hard 4) 1 London Spy 1 Lovecraft Mythos 1 Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic 1 Magnificent Seven 1 Mary Grant Bruce's Billabong series 1 Mrs. Davis 1 My Little Pony 1 Nancy Drew (CW Series) 1 Narcos (TV) 1 Nine Worlds Series - Victoria Goddard 1 NU: Carnival 1 Omori 1 One Direction 1 Orphan Black 1 Outlast 1 Paranatural 1 Phantomarine 1 Re-Animator 1 Resident Evil/Biohazard 1 Sex Education (TV) 1 She-Ra and the Princesses of Power 1 Simon Snow Series 1 Skins (UK) 1 Slam Dunk 1 Starry Musical 1 Succession 1 Sunless Sea 1 Super Sentai 1 Sweeney Todd 1 Team Starkid 1 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 1 The Adventure Zone: Balance 1 The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across The 8th Dimension 1 The Adventures of Tintin 1 The Artful Dodger 1 The Good Place 1 The Greenhollow Series - Emily Tesh 1 The Hollows - Kim Harrison 1 The Last Kingdom 1 The Left-Handed Booksellers of London - Garth Nix 1 The Lunar Chronicles 1 The Mechanisms 1 The Pairing (Casey McQuiston) 1 The Saint of Steel 1 The Shadow Campaigns - Django Wexler 1 The Terror (TV 2018) 1 Three of Hearts 1 Tin Can Bros 1 Tower of God 1 True Detective 1 Twilight 1 Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold 1 Wayfarers (Becky Chambers) 1 Weak Hero Class 1 1 Westworld (TV) 1 Yellowjackets 1 Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters

#fth 2024 #fandom trumps hate #fanworks charity auction #unlisted fandom challenge #signups are STILL OPEN!#do the thing!

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theflashdriver · 2 months

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Gintsugi

Heavy heels clicked across the tiled floor, marking the passing of each quarter second. Blaze the cat could usually maintain a relatively aloof façade, only breaking from it under the most dire of circumstances or when pushed to her absolute limit. Yet, all through this morning, afternoon, and evening, a certain aggravated frown had fused itself into to her muzzle. Today had been one of the, if not the, most draining day of the princess’ life. She had been locked inside the great hall from sunrise to sunset, answering questions, signing papers, and listening to her advisors. Yesterday had been difficult, almost impossibly difficult, but something about today’s monotonous crawl had dragged out that pain and made it far more insufferable. There had been questions about restructuring, expanding the royal guard, assigning watches, public appearances, and reconstruction, the likes of which she’d surely still be dealing with for weeks if not months to come.

As her glare glanced one of the castle’s many maids, Blaze watched her shrink back and bow her head. Though she felt an immediate upwelling of guilt, the princess couldn’t bring herself to stop. With every second that past, she knew she would further regret being away from her desired destination; as she began to scale the stairs, she found her pace had only further increased. She knew this path well but not out of practice, only because she had wandered this trail so often in her mind. Even as she finally walked it, the feline found herself dissociating from her surroundings and lost among her thoughts.

Yesterday replayed in her mind, the attack had come without warning. From the sea just south of Southern Island, as the sun set and they day came to its end, a titan milled from metal had emerged from the sea. The warning bells began to ring only after the first of its tentacles had burst from the ocean, soon followed by a gaping maw filled with saw blades. Whether its limbs numbered in the hundreds or the thousands Blaze could not recall but an endless hail of them had jettisoned from its body and rained down as a concentrated missile strike on the palace grounds. Blaze could visualise the moment so clearly, hearing the initial explosion as rocket after rocket rose from the ocean. She had stood, stunned, as they arced through the air and towards the palace she had just left.

A second intruder to her world hadn’t been so blindsided and, what’s more, he had been in a position to act. She’d watched a tiny cyan speck ensnare the explosives, preventing them from breaching the palace, and heard him call out… something, something she couldn’t recall but it had brought her back to her senses. She’d took off like a shot, racing to secure the Sol emeralds. Just as she’d laid hands on them, just as she thought they’d be safe, an explosion shook her to her very soul.

As she reached the landing, seeing the long stretching hallway of visitor guest rooms, Blaze could still visualise what had happened. She’d emerged from the basement expecting to find the castle in ruins only to see it was untouched, hardly an ornament out of place and nary a window broken. She’d rushed outside, emeralds prepared and fists aflame, only to find him on her doorstep. Crumpled, smouldering, unmoving; barely recognisable. The fit of rage she’d fallen into, emeralds sparking and clashing into her being, had been more than enough to see off Eggman Nega and his cruel device... but it had been too little too late. While the day was saved, it had come at a cost.

Blaze found herself on the threshold, her forehead practically against the door. She couldn’t bring herself to reach for the doorknob. The guardian hadn't been allowed to see him yesterday, doctors and surgeons had rushed back and forth from his room all through the night, but she’d been told partway through the morning’s first meeting that his condition had much improved. Unfortunately however, that fact had come coupled with some more negative news.

Certain medical practices, common to this world, could not be safely used on him; they had taken blood and were running tests, trying to determine what could be done to help him. He came from a totally different world, let alone a time without medicine, he could have had a negative or allergic reaction to any number of this world’s standard medical treatments. They’d cared for him as best they could but all they could really do was bandage him, monitor him and wait for his body to heal. Even his blood was thought to be abnormal, due to the psychokinetic energy that ran through him. Blaze couldn’t help but expect the worst.

Swallowing hard, she dared to rap against the wood. The silence that hang in the act's wake was deafening.

Finally, she forced her hand upon the doorknob. She couldn’t feel what should have been cold brass in her hand, heat was flagging from her frame and pouring into it. Her emotions were building beyond what was manageable, beyond what was acceptable. This wasn’t safe, not for her and certainly not for him. When her emotions got the better of her, control was lost- her powers would escape her form without her say and run rampant throughout her surroundings. If she went inside she had to be calm, otherwise he’d only-

“Good evening, your majesty,” A familiar voice spun the feline on her heel.

"Good evening, Gardon," The cat greeted the guardsman.

The older koala, dressed in blue, had evidently followed her up the stairs; she'd been too lost in her worries to notice. He plainly had something in his satchel, be it to deliver to her or the hedgehog within. Regardless, the immediate formality of his poise and tone brought sickness to her stomach. She had wanted to meet with Silver alone, without the barrier of ceremonious trappings.

"I presume you've come to visit our guest?" He enquired, surely knowing the answer.

"Yes, I wanted to ensure his recovery is going smoothly," She half lied.

"That's very kind of you, your highness," A small smile crept across his fuzzy muzzle, "I'm certain that he will appreciate your visit."

The stiffness of his frame was different from his usual overly formal manner, the cat could read on his face that he was perturbed. Between that and Silver not coming to the door, something was clearly wrong. Why had the guard even travelled up here?

"Is there something on your mind?" The ruler asked, cutting straight to the point.

"Forgive me for prying," He bowed once again, "But, prior to his unannounced appearance, I hadn't heard of this Silver the hedgehog, yet he plainly sacrificed life and limb to defend the kingdom. Has he visited prior?"

Gardon wasn't verbalising the full scope of his intrigue, but Blaze knew him well enough to read between the lines. In reality, the elder was asking if the hedgehog was another threat to the kingdom, if Silver was being kept close because he was a danger to her people. Did others think his appearance signified a further threat?

"He has not, but I know him," She answered, "He however does not know me."

"Ah, so you had only heard of him before his arrival here," Gardon thought aloud, "That-

"No, we are acquainted, I am simply far more familiar with him than he is with me," She cut him off, "It is a complicated matter."

"It certainly sounds to be," The koala paused for a moment, perhaps expecting more of an explanation, but Blaze offered none.

Instead, she asked, "Has he eaten anything?"

"A small amount this afternoon, we offered more but he claimed to be full quite quickly... he is a rather gaunt fellow," That much would have been made all the more of obvious by the shearing of his fur to treat his wounds, "You instructed that we should keep him here rather than transfer him to a hospital. Are you certain that was wise?"

"If they cannot offer him any further treatments, then I can see no reason why he shouldn't be here," She much too quickly responded.

"Oh, yes, of course," The harshness of her tone had plainly rattled him, "I only asked because of how unusual the situation is," He was starting to ramble, "After all, as you answered, he is a relative stranger to this world. It is unusual that he is staying here..."

"What are you implying?" She felt her brows furrow.

"N-Nothing, Princess Blaze," He averted his gaze, "I am simply explaining that, due to your busy schedule, and the straightforwardness of your initial orders, there is confusion amongst the staff as to why he is being kept here. There are questions as to whether he is a captive, thought to be partially responsible for the attack on the palace. Some think you have been rather..." He was scrambling for words, "Uncommunicative regarding your intentions for him."

A sigh escaped Blaze's lips. Between the combat yesterday, the public interfacing that had followed, this morning's meetings, and the time he'd spent in treatment- she knew she had been both blunt and short with people. There hadn't been time for true explanations, it was no wonder that her staff were confused. Had she been taking out her frustrations on them?

"I'm sorry, Gardon," She apologised, "He is a guest, not a captive... but I have no idea why he appeared here or for how long he intends to stay. His arrival is in and of itself an anomaly," Again, she leaned into formality, "My intention would be to hold him here until he has fully recovered, though I have my doubts that he will agree to such."

"If you know him as well as you think you do, don't you stand a chance of convincing him to stay?" Gardon asked.

"I intend to try," Though she knew she would be unsuccessful.

"Well, regardless, there is no need to apologise your highness, there was simply some confusion and concern," Gardon seemed to squirm where he stood, "Especially regarding that right arm of his."

"Right arm?" Blaze questioned.

"I was visiting to deliver this," From a his satchel, he revealed an overlarge golden bangle, "The pieces of it were recovered from across the palace grounds, I had it reconstructed... though I am uncertain if its function will have been restored. Regarding that arm, there were some difficulties..." The elder shrank under Blaze's stare, he was avoiding explaining, "There was an incident this afternoon."

Concern again overflowed, "What kind of incident?"

"He seemed to lose control of the uncuffed arm while his bandages were being changed," Gardon grimaced, "No one was hurt, but you'll find the room in a rather dysfunctional state. I've taken the lead communicating with him, most of the staff are rather intimidated."

Blaze's gaze drifted back to the door before returning to the golden band in Gardon's hand. She had never seen him without those cuffs, even when he'd been young and they'd been overlarge on him. The cat had no idea how they functioned, and hearing what he'd done without one of them flared her anxiety.

"I will return this to him," Blaze took the trinket, "Thank you."

"You are very welcome, your..." The guardsman seemed to catch himself this time, "Blaze," Despite that, he still gave a small bow, "I hope his recovery will bring you some comfort."

With no more than that the koala moved along, walking the hallway before descending the stairs and out of view. Again Blaze found herself alone outside of his door, would he have heard all they had discussed? Was he even in a state to have heard their conversation? She should have been comforting him, not conspiring behind his back.

Straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath, the pyrokinetic tried to muster her professionalism. Blaze didn't give herself time to overthink, slipping into the room without another attempt at knocking. She pinned her back against the door to shut it the moment she was inside, both hands behind her. Her blood ran cold as she took in the space.

The room's floral wallpaper was gashed, it looked to have rolled off as if torn by the claws of some gigantic beast. Everything right of the bed was in complete disarray; where once a vanity and desk were stood, now lay a pile of rubble and an indentation into the wall it had been crushed against. The carpet was fanned up and clearly some of the floorboards had come with it; twisting to form the likeness of a gnarled hand and revealing the plumbing beneath.

He was sat on the far side of his bed, parallel to the balcony window across the room's centre. Light was shining from him; psionic power, the likes of which would only typically glow from him in the midst of combat, almost blinding to look at. The energy was bleeding through the bandages that covered his body, displaying markings-

"Oh, it's you," A bandage covered his right eye, the dressings over his wounds left little for the cat to imagine, "Hello."

Silver's arm stole her attention, the right limb he'd apparently lost control of. The symbol that usually sat on the palm of his hands had distorted and stretched; cyan light now traced all the way up the limb as multiple strands, now more of those circular sigils marked his elbow and shoulder but the colour didn't end there. From his shoulder further lines, jagged and rough, stretched up his neck to mark the right of his face. The extensions faded as they neared his quills but Blaze swore she could see a circle faintly flickering at the centre of his forehead.

"Good evening," She greeted, quickly feeling the need to explain herself, "I knocked but you didn't answer."

"I was distracted," He turned away again, "The moon's nice tonight."

He was lying, but the cat still had no idea how much he'd heard of her conversation with Gardon. His fur had been shorn short, even his quills were reduced from their usual branches to mere twigs. Blaze's heart ached at the sight of him, not just damage but demoralised. Feeling her muscles tense as anxiety swelled, the cat slipped closer, arriving by his bedside.

"How are you feeling?" She managed to ask.

"I've been worse," He shrugged, "How about you?"

He was hurt, how could he stand to ask? "I've been worse too..."

The view from his window wasn't anything special, it didn't overlook an especially grand section of the royal garden, but her timing had been just right to centre the full moon within the peak of the glass. Despite its shortened state, his fur reflected the moonlight in a manner that only added to the otherworldly glow that filled the room. She'd never had a chance to see him awash in the glow of moonlight. Only the red of flames.

Her chest ached and heart pounded, she could see in her minds eye all she would have loved to do. To re-bandage him as she had so often before, to wrap her arms around him, and to promise that she would protect him. Now these would be surprise acts from a stranger; likely unwanted by a more self-sufficient hedgehog.

"They told me that you beat Eggman Nega's machine," His gaze was still locked on the window, "Do you know what happened to him?"

"He had some sort of emergency escape advice, a form of crude teleportation," The cat answered, "Once I destroyed his machine, he vanished in a flash of green."

"He probably went back to mess up my world," Silver grumbled, "I don't even know why I'm here, I've already caused you far too much trouble."

"Nonsense," She huffed, "You injured yourself saving the palace, you've done the opposite of causing trouble."

"You don't think Eggman Nega followed me here?" He shot back, "I made a mistake, I fell through time, he must have followed..."

"Based on the design of his machine, I doubt that was the case. He always intended to strike here," Blaze quickly countered, "It was just a fortunate coincidence that you arrived at the same time."

"Maybe..." Her words were falling on deaf ears, "Still, I know what I did to this room..."

His optimism was at an all time low, things were surely dire in his timeline. Whether it was conflict with Eggman Nega or an apocalypse induced by failures in the world's past, the Silver she'd known had certainly struggled but never fallen to the kind of despair that this one was presently wrestling. She'd seen him hurt, but he'd always longed to jump to his feet and keep fighting for what was right. Perhaps keeping him here to heal wouldn't be so difficult after all...

Why did she long for him to be so foolhardy? Did she want him to hurt himself, just so that she knew that her partner was still in there? Was his state of self-sacrifice not proof enough of that?

Blaze started to reach out, just to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but she thought better of it before her fingers could meet with bandage and fur. This was not her Silver, he did not know of her shared past. To him she was an ally but a quiet and distant one, just as she was to everyone else. She didn't know how he'd respond to comfort, let alone her sympathy. Besides, if she let that wall down then what more would follow? Even visiting him in the night like this had been foolish.

Her gaze drifted past him, landing on the bedside table. A platter of sandwiches still sat uneaten. Had that been his lunch? Had they not brought him dinner? Regardless...

"You need to eat more," She lowered herself to sit at the foot of the bed, "It's clearly affecting your head."

"I'm not hungry," He refused, "I feel... strange."

His bluntness irked her more than it should; Blaze felt her teeth grit. Were this her Silver, she would have called him naive and made him eat. The hedgehog would have complained but he would have seen it was for his own good, understood and trusted her guidance as she would his. But, again, this was not her Silver.

She didn't know what to do with herself, let alone him. This hedgehog had plainly been hardened by a time spent struggling alone; he had not learned to rely on others in his moments of weakness. He didn't seem comfortable with showing weakness at all in fact...

"I've never seen your arm like that," The cat professed, "Does it hurt?"

"No, it doesn't," He turned to her, "But it's more than just my arm."

He reached up and shifted the bandaging over his eye, revealing what lay beneath. Rather than the bright yellow iris she had anticipated, the hedgehog's eye was glowing with psychic intensity. One of the lines stretching from the mark on his palm had cut up over his cheek and through the pupil.

"Can you see through that?" The cat asked.

"Barely..." He replaced the binding, "My whole body feels so sluggish, but my psychokinesis is surging. Just keeping it under control is making me nauseous. I can't eat, I can't sleep..." His stare fell to his lap, "I'm going to be a burden if Eggman Nega returns."

He was wallowing in his self pity, this truly wasn't the psychic she'd known. Her Silver was far from immune to his emotions, but his response to them had so rarely been to cower. He would rush forward, headstrong; she would have to wrestle him to sit still and act rationally. He may have at times thought himself a burden, but his response would never have been to admit it. He would have struck out even harder, been even more self sacrificing!

As his eyes flickered back to her, she quickly turned her gaze to the window. The hedgehog had once compared her to the sunlight they'd sought, but he had been that very light to her. She had not held hope that life could improve before she'd met him, every day had been a joyless struggle. Would this Silver be like the moon? He was colder, but did he reflect the light of that prior hedgehog, no matter how many times more weakly? Was his soul still within this new mind and body?

The cuff Gardon had given her no longer looked like the others on his person. The koala was right when he said there had been issues with its restoration; vein like lines of silver filled what had surely once been cracks in the golden metal. It held together as one solid piece, but it was neither whole nor smooth to the touch. Even ignoring that the cuff's initial crafting was a mystery, its restoration had plainly been a struggle.

Blaze glanced to him again, finding he had returned to sullenly staring into the moonlight. Again the princess looked to his arm, she was certain it hurt more than he was letting on. She had seen him lose control of his power before, how rage could turn what was would be a gentle psychic grasp into crushing force. If that same energy was flaring uncontrollably within him, then the cat could imagine how it felt. The least she could do was try to help him, she owed that much to the hedgehog she'd known.

A flinch pushed her back as she touched his arm, feeling the psychokinetic surge that was pulsing through his body. Her second grasp carried her purpose, she would not let go of him no matter how it hurt. She would gladly suffer any pain if it meant that Silver could finally rest properly after all the good he had done.

Surprised creased his muzzle, "What are you do-

"Give me your hand," The cat insisted, "Now."

He didn't resist, but his expression remained perturbed. His fingers were thinner than she recalled; was this a result of psychic energy draining him, or the world he came from? Regardless, Blaze pushed on.

She wasn't even certain what she was doing, the cat went off of pure instinct. It was a little difficult to squeeze the cuff over his hand, it always had seemed to fit so perfectly around his wrist, but with a shove and a tug the jewellery found its way back to its proper place. Almost immediately light filled the dark band in the golden cuff, cyan energy immediately flared and the wristlet solidified itself into place.

Blaze interlocked her fingers with his, still feeling the psychic static continue to buzz through her bones. Hard callouses were obvious to feel, as were the bones of his knuckles, these things were at least familiar to her. She watched with baited breath as his cuff grew brighter; as it did, the lines stretching up his arm thinned slighter and slighter. Where silver had been used to fill the cracks of gold in the cuff, the cyan light was sparking like wild electricity- would that impurity prevent his recovery? Would the cuff break again?

The cat clenched her teeth and held him tighter, she felt his body spasm. The light was fading from both him and her surroundings, only amplified on the metal armlet. Finally, when the limb was too bright to look at directly, she turned away from his arm and up to him. The lines hadn't fully faded, but they had been greatly reduced.

Gently the princess reached up with her free hand, pushing back the bandage that obscured his eye. There was a hint of cyan, a tiny speck in the depths of his pupil, but otherwise the glow had fully left his face. There was no flickering symbol on his forehead, no lines down his cheek. The cuff wasn't containing the spread of psychic energy as successfully as it had before, symbols still stretched as far as his bicep, but he immediately looked so much less alien. So much more familiar.

"How's that?" She asked without thinking.

"Better," His gaze fell to his wristlet only to squint at the brightness, "I think."

Her eyes searched his expression for warmth but still found only confusion and shock. Was he surprised that the cuff had been restored or that it had partially cured his affliction? Was he simply puzzled why she was still holding his hand? She should have been able to read his expression, she used to be able to read him like a book.

He didn't understand why she was doing this for him. This Silver had never known her; did he have any companions? Did he know the kindness of others? Did he act out of his own kindness or a hardened sense of what was right and wrong? It was her fault he was like this; she had left him for a good cause, but she had abandoned him. She was responsible for what he had become. No wonder she was keeping him so close, this was penance.

The cat released his hand, pulled away from his forehead and rose to stand. He didn't know her. She didn't know him. His body and mind were plainly different; it had been foolish to pretend that his soul would differ.

"Please excuse me, I have further duties to attend this evening," Blaze announced, "If you require anything, do not hesitate to ask. You are a guest here."

Despite pushing away she lingered for a moment longer, staring at him from the middle of the room before making for the exit. She had needed him; when the feline had been but a kitten she had been painfully nihilistic, not illogically given the world that she had found herself living through. Silver had helped her, his naive drive to restore their broken world had inspired her to work toward the same and want more than life had dealt them. Now he needed her, it was her turn to mend him, and yet she hadn't the strength to do any more for him. It was only as she reached the door that his voice again reached her ears.

"Blaze?" She looked back to him, still sat on the bed, "Thank you."

Without so much as a goodbye, the princess shut the door behind herself. The weight didn't leave her shoulders, if anything it redoubled. Across this second lifetime she had always been pressured; to hold herself to royal standards of etiquette, to defend her kingdom, and to protect the Sol Emeralds. The weights she'd carried had been countless, and yet... they had never been personal like this. She'd always tried to deflect, to isolate her dutiful self from the true thing. That wasn't an option with him.

Blaze slumped against the door, eventually sliding to sit on the carpeted floor. She couldn't bear to open that door again. Not until he was able to open it for himself.

#silvaze #blaze the cat #silver the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonic rush #silverxblaze

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fishnets-fingers · 11 months

Text

Underneath the Stars

“So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs.

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of not drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

a/n - i wrote so much. so, i’ve decided to split it into two parts. i made a banner for forbidden hours and it took me a lot longer than anticipated but i think it tured out great. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome. happy reading!

Word Count - 6.2k (not proofread)

MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST

….

நீள்பயணம். Voyage. News had spread far and wide across the expanse of the empire about the Princess’ journey far East. Throngs of people gathered on the docks to bid farewell to her and scream out wishes of luck and fortune. It was a busy day, filled with fanfare from the subjects, priests blessing the vessel and ministers of court spewing out strategies whilst handing bundles of parchment of the meticulously crafted plans.

A journey always stirred up feelings of unbridled joy, especially since the aim of this particular voyage is to draw up a treaty with Handuman - three small islands that lie smack in the middle of a crucial trade route between the Cholas and Burmese. A tiny island kingdom that was a thorn on Y/N’s side for the past year; with news of shipment from Burma being pillaged and sabotaged at sea constantly thwarting her plans of bringing components of machinery to assemble aiding with agriculture. She put together a counsel which oversaw striking a peaceful agreement that would mutually benefit both nations, a long drawn process of negotiations with a vacillating King that finally culminated to this day.

A day where she set sail on a three week journey to visit the islands, attend a ball hosted in her honour, and cap it off with signing the treaty. Needless to say the kingdom was ecstatic with the promise of the Princess Royal bringing more riches into the land. All of Y/N’s voyages to neighbouring kingdoms resulted in astounding successes, so people did have a shred of doubt that this one would go south. At the break of dawn, the majestic vessel was filled with her entourage - guards, a trade minister, the guard captain who was responsible for her safety, the sail crew, two of her handmaidens, and her lady-in-waiting, Shobhita.

Shobhita has been by Y/N’s side since they were partnered together for dance lessons fifteen years ago. As kids, Y/N took it upon herself to teach her how to conduct herself properly in court. Despite not liking the bossy Princess Royal, things took a turn for Shobhita when some children of nobility made fun of her lineage - going so far as to calling her ‘murky blood.’ She had light blue irises and hair the colour of sticky toffee - resembling her overseas mother, far different from what everyone else looked like and that made her an easy target. Though Y/N was not around for the name calling, she personally gave the other kids a stern talking, going so far as shoving one them and getting confined to her quarters by the Queen Mother. The two have been thick as thieves ever since.

“Remember Y/N, you are representing our Dynasty from the second you dock there until you set sail,” the Queen Mother starts.

“I know. I know, grandmum. Best behaviour and all,” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“You know better than to roll your eyes at me?!?” The older woman narrows her eyes in warning.

“Have I not conducted myself well on my trips so far?”

“I’m not saying that you haven’t, but be wary. I’ve heard nothing but vile things about the Prince of Handuman. I’ve seen to it that your guards have been doubled.”

“Is that why I’m going there alone without any advisors? You know I can take care of myself-“

“I know you can,” the Queen Mother interrupts her. “Keep an eye out on all our girls.” She whispers, taking her palm in her hands and gives it a warm squeeze, before walking towards the chief.

When she gets a minute to herself, Y/N turns away from the enthusiastic crowd, gripping on to a wooden mast, she closes her eyes, picturing her garden. The patch of flowering shrub - right by her reading bench - which attracted the prettiest of blue butterflies. She feels the tightness in her shoulders ebb away, only to have it disrupted when she feels someone pull on her braid. She flicks her head around in annoyance to find her little brother sheepishly looking at her.

“What do you want?”

“You’re sleeping standing up,” Karthi notes.

“I was not. I was trying to relax,” she sighs.

“I’m sure that the vast blue of the water is relaxing enough. Never knowing what’s under the thousands of leagues under the sea. Maybe there’s a giant fish with razor sharp teeth as long as the mountains waiting to capsize the boat. Shame, won’t even know it’s coming in the dark of the night with nothing but pitch black in the horizon-“

“Shut up, Karthi!”

“Calm down,” he throws his hands over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “You really think Dad is gonna let that happen to his favourite child. There’s no way this voyage was approved by him without contingencies for every single thing that could go wrong. He’s not gonna let the people’s Princess get lost at sea.”

“I appreciate you trying but it’s not helping. Why are you still here anyway? Didn’t Dad want you at the capital yesterday?”

“It can wait,” he shrugs it off. “I’m not going to leave without saying goodbye to my favourite sister.” He bends down to engulf his big sister in a hug.

“I’m your only sister,” she chuckles, swatting him away. “In other words you hung around for morsels of attention from Shobhita.”

“Give me some credit!” He says feigning being wounded. “I brushed my hand against her arm,” he whispers, pointing to his left palm.

Y/N shakes her head at the smirk that tugged at the corner of her little brother’s lips. They’ve had a crush on each other from when they were both old enough to understand what that meant. Being the daughter of a vassal king, who happened to be close friends with her father, it was agreed upon by the elders that Shobhita and Karthi were to wed. Though Shobhita was a Princess of a small hilly region in the dynasty, it was thought best by the parents to have her grow up in the palace and serve with Y/N as her lady-in-waiting to learn the ropes of handing the responsibilities that would fall on her shoulders once she married.

Right as Y/N was going to say something witty, their attention was pulled to the commotion at the gangplank. When Y/N peers over she sees Harry hold up his royal seal to the guards before lugging up his things.

“What’s he doing here?” Y/N asks her grandmother, but finds the Queen Mother cluelessly staring at her grandchildren.

“Your majesties,” Harry bows, and wordlessly hands the Queen Mother’s guard the parchment before it’s passed to the old woman.

His eyes flit over to Y/N with a small smile tugging but he finds her pointedly staring over his shoulder with a scowl. He frowns, did she forget our time at the docks? The last time he saw her was filled with fiery passionate kisses and sweet nothings. He didn’t expect the Princess Royal to throw herself at him in front of everyone but was he not warranted a polite smile.

“It’s from your brother,” the Queen Mother tells the siblings. “Looks like Harry over here would also be travelling with you.”

“What? Why?” Y/N asks, dreading the thought of being locked in close quarters with the spy.

“He wants Harry to accompany you and be added to oversee your guard detail along with the chief.”

“But that makes no sense, he’s hardly a guard,” she protests.

“That’s quite true, Princess but I do know a thing or two about fighting. The Crown Prince wants you to be protected, that-“

“I do not require your protection, Mister Styles,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The Crown Prince has spoken. His reasons are clear,” the Queen Mother tells Y/N firmly, handing her the parchment. “Harry Styles will be accompanying you.”

////

The texts spoke of the majestic wonders of the sea in all its boundless beauty, sailors talked about the vast bodies of water being their companion; the sea was glorified by almost everyone Y/N had met and even by herself - she’d allow herself to stand at the edge of the shoreline and daydream about what life on the other side of the water looked like. There was immeasurable poetry that was either written at sea or took place at sea, but what none of them talked about was what it did to your psyche. Four days of constantly bobbing about the tides, with nothing around but endless blue and a blanket of darkness at nightfall, not to mention the terrifying sounds that accompanied no visibility. She missed the feel of the earth beneath her feet, the smell of her freshly watered gardens, the buzz of bees, birdsong, the vivid colours of her flowers against the green.

She brushed them aside as champagne problems for the first two days but the confines of close quarters were slowly creeping up on her. It didn’t help that she was avoiding Harry on top of all this, so she’d holed herself up in her room with Shobhita working on a project for the gala that’s being thrown in her honour. That’s how she found herself standing at the stern, hands clasped firmly on the wooden banister, at an odd hour in the night. She had her eyes closed, not that it made much of a difference in pitch darkness as she felt the wind against her face. It was eerily quiet, yet noisy as the vessel zipped through the tides, and everytime she flicked her eyes open she would only stare into the vast expanse of the hazy abyss. An insidious fear crept in which made her bones tremble about the nightmarish creatures that would leap out from the water at any moment.

“Careful there, Princess, any more harder and you might splinter the wood,” Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, the teasing apparent in the undercurrent of his tone.

She blinks down at her the way her knuckles have gone pale from gripping onto the wood. Sighing she turns her head to the side, to catch a sweet smile painted on his face as he bows spitting out the formalities.

“Mister Styles,” she acknowledges him halfheartedly, turning her attention back to the abyss.

“Trouble sleeping?” He enquires, stepping forward but the guard captain steps out from the shadow, directly in front of him, blocking his path. Harry throws his arms up, pausing. “I don’t mean any trouble, Captain.”

“You may not approach her royal highness,” he warns, the captain towers over Harry.

“It’s alright, Captain. He may step closer,” Y/N says.

“Princess, no man is allowed in your vicinity without a chaperone,” the Captain reminds her, and it doesn’t escape Y/N, the way he flexes his mammoth muscles to intimidate the spy.

“He is no ordinary man, remember. The Crown Prince has instated him to oversee my guard detail,” she points out. “I think it is time he took over the watch. I have kept you up for three nights now, and it’s high time you get some sleep. You may retire to your cabin for the night, Captain.” She smiles, wordlessly thanking him for being diligent enough to follow her each night.

He nods, muttering something to Harry as he hands over his spear to him. He bids Y/N goodnight and disappears down to his cabin.

“Whew,” Harry breathes out in relief. “Thought I’d be tossed overboard. Thanks for the save.” He mutters, making his way to the banister, leaving a comfortable distance between the two in case the Captain decides to check in on him.

“Don’t go thanking your lucky stars yet, I can certainly see to it that it’s arranged,” she bites back at him.

“You’re angry with me,” he states, making her chuckle.

“Wonder what gave that away,” she mutters, directing an eye roll at him.

He ignores her retort and continues, “You’ve been avoiding me since the minute I came on board.”

“That’s two for two. Gee for a spy, you sure do have a knack for picking up on the fucking obvious,” she shakes her head.

“I don’t understa-”

“Of course you don’t,” she huffs out a weak chuckle. “Apologies start with an I’m sorry.”

“Princess-” he starts, running his hand through his locks. “Y/N, I don’t understand why you’re cross with me. Is it because I’m sailing with you unannounced?”

“God, you’re thick,” she lets out a weak chuckle. “A storm hit the coast two days after you set sail to Lanka, Harry. I didn’t know for weeks if Karthi got the message on time!”

“I’m a good spy, am I not? When have I ever faltered in keeping to your word? Prince Karthi reached the Port Palace two weeks ago, according to your word, did he not?”

“That’s not the point, you idiot!” She turns to face him. “I did not hear from you! I did not know if you made it there. For three whole months! I didn’t know what to think.”

“Oh.” His face reddens as warmth spreads across his chest. He doesn’t understand why but he feels his face split into a wide grin as he replies, “I was doing my job and protocol states that - .”

“And you rode off to Vikram up north,” her tone was still accusatory.

“I had to, Y/N.”

“Why? Why did you have to get to him with such urgency? Was it Karthi’s orders? Why was it so important that you come with me all this way? Don’t give me all that poppycock about me needing extra security. My brother and I trust the captain with our lives. He’s overseen our protection since we were children.”

“Vikram’s mingled with the close friend of the Prince of Handuman. He’s foul, according to his best friend’s admission. He hits women and beds them without consent. He has complete disregard for matters of the court and he is well known for schmoozing -”

“Why does that even matter?”

Harry lets out a frustrated groan, “Will you please just listen to me.” He continues when Y/N quietens down. “The royal astrologer had seen to it that your portraits were sent to all neighbouring kingdoms - under your father’s orders - for matrimony. Prince Vinay had come across it when you were liaising with them for the trade deal. He, um, publicly vowed to…”

“Vowed to what?” She implores when he trails off.

“I’m sorry for being crude but he said that he wanted to ‘tear off your clothes, pin you against his throne and thrust some obedience into you while the court watches.’” He takes in a long breath before he continues, “So you will be under his pinkie and he can boast that the great Chola Princess was another notch on his bedpost.”

Y/N’s face twists in disgust as she processes what Harry had just shared with her. “Vikram knows I can handle myself around such odious men. I have more protection during this trip than I ever had in my life. Why did he send you to supervise my security? You have no experience…”

“It was my idea actually. I asked him to sign that decree to let me join this company and this was the only way to not raise any eyebrows among our men. I know you can handle yourself around the Handuman Prince, but I would not forgive myself if something were to happen to you…” He pauses, eyes roaming around for any lurking shadows, what comes next is communicated in a murmur, “This could provide a perfect cover for a Chola spy to be digging around Handuman.”

“A cover for what?” Her eyebrows scrunch, mouth twisting down in displeasure of being kept in the dark.

“Too many ears around,” he reminds her. He interjects before she can protest, “You will be the first to know once I have evidence.”

They hear a heavy splash making the ship drag, and the two lurch forward at the sudden movement. Y/N gasps, grabbing hold of the bannister and tightening her grip as a strong hand wraps around her elbow and tries to pull her away.

Things feel dissonant for her, there’s a ringing in her ears that’s managed to make all other sounds feel like it’s echoing from deep inside a well, she feels her body spasm as she struggles to draw in breaths, like her throat has something blocking the way. Her vision fades around the edges making her scrunch her eyes shut, but that only makes the successive shallow drum of her heart louder. She can feel the way the boat has a pull under her feet, like it was lugging around something heavy as it resists the sway of the vessel. She’s experienced unease before, but this time was different. This uneasiness was not fleeting. It was a type of fear. Fear oozes from the centre of her bones, slowly following its wake across everything it could consume inside her being. Paralysing to her anomalous senses. “I knew it,” she whispers. “Consumed by the waters, of course.”

If this was how she was going to perish, so be it.

“Princess,” his voice is distorted and faint but she picks it up. “Y/N.” It’s louder this time, floating closer. “We’re fine.” She feels his arms tightening around her frame. “Y/N, look at me.”

////

Harry does not understand what’s happening. Once second, he hears the men throw the anchor into the water and the next Y/N’s crumpled over the banister beside him. She looks to be in pain, her face ashen under the silver beam, he tries to tug her back - away from the edge but she’s bolted, hunching over the banister. He tries getting her attention, but can hear her mutter something about being engulfed by the water and it all makes sense to him. Why she was so hesitant to get on his boat when they were at the docks, how uncomfortable she was sitting opposite him, what made her hole up in her quarters all this time, the way she was gripping onto the banister earlier. The ocean petrified her.

He understands why she was mad for not hearing from him sooner. He left right before a storm hit the coast, showering her in kisses and whispering sweet promises. Promises. Well, promise. He promised to be safe and he did keep up his word, and he left for the battle tents of the Crown Prince, like he normally would when his job was done. But things were not normal. They’d kissed. Several times in fact. And he’d confessed his fondness for her.

He never faltered in his duties, he’d kept them up this time too. He had not realised a duty had implicitly fallen in his shoulders to bear when their lips met. To let her know that he was safe and not taken by the treacherous waters of the stormy seas as she’d let herself imagine. She had been worried about him. He made her worry.

“We’re fine,” he reassures, moving closer to her, holding her close to him.

It takes him a few tries but he gets her to look at him and a few more to convince her to let go of the banister. Her quivering lips and glassy eyes pierce his heart, but he manages to get her to slump to the floor beside him. It takes her a long while to stop trembling but he tightens her torso to his side, hoping to instill some warmth into her.

“We’re fine now,” he reassures, squeezing her hands. “The men tossed the anchor overboard. That is what made us jerk forward along with the ship. It takes a while for the anchor to latch onto the seabed. They’ve retired to their cabins for the night. It’s just that. It has happened everyday since we boarded the ship. It will keep happening until we reach home. We will sail again just before the break of dawn. Nothing is wrong with the ship. We are not in the way of any harm.”

She nods as he continues, “I apologise for not letting you know that I had reached Lanka in one piece. I’m sorry for all the worry I have caused you. I never intended to. I promise to never make you fret again.”

“Okay,” she tells him in a quiet voice, closing her eyes, as she forces her shallow shuddering breath to regain its steadiness.

He looks around once more, making sure that they’re truly alone, before focusing on her blinking back her watery eyes. “Why did you agree to the voyage in the first place?”

“King’s orders,” she tells him softly.

“You’re terrified of the ocean,Y/N ,” he reasons.

“I have duties, Harry. I get to experience all the luxuries one can imagine, compared to all that-” she shrugs. “Champagne problems, I guess.”

Harry shakes his head, she says king like it wasn’t her father. He would never do something that he didn’t want to, no matter who’s orders. But it was important to the princess in front of him and there was no use trying to challenge that. This was her deal, and it only made sense that she saw it through - she owed her people that. Instead he picks a different route, one that would help him understand her better, “What’s got you this scared? I’ve never seen you like this before.” It’s true. She was the first Chola Princess to be trained in combat alongside her brothers - demanding her father that when it came to the worst, she wanted to defend her people. She did not want to be holed underground with other women of court or in a temple praying for victory. She was an excellent rider, often would compete in races and encouraged young girls to follow suit.

“I do not wish to say,” she says hesitantly. She leans back and scoots away, her face slowly regaining composure.

“I don’t mean to pry, Princess. I grew up sailing the waters, I understand not wanting to recount a time -”

“It’s not that. I don’t have a harrowing story or anything.” She adds the next part quietly, “It is risible,” and her cheeks heat in response. Harry quickly notes the way she blushes, making him smile down at her in endearment.

“I promise not to laugh. Sailor’s honour,” he crosses over his heart.

Y/N lets out a peeling giggle in response, “You’re no sailor, Harry.”

“Yes, I am! Was practically born on a ship, Y/N.”

“You were born on a ship?” Y/N asks, sometimes it felt like he knew more about her than she did him.

Harry shakes his head, “Was born in my mother’s cottage in North England.”

“Did you grow up there?”

He shakes his head again, this time quicker with a frown. “No. I grew up on my father’s ship. Back to what we were talking about; you can’t discredit me as a sailor.”

Y/N’s brows scrunch at the sudden pivot in the conversation, but she doesn’t press on further, opting to say, “I thought you were a spy.”

A warmth blossomed in Harry’s chest from the mocking undercurrent of her tone. He’s never had anyone volley a conversation with him, and it came easy with her. “I am more of a ‘Jack of all trades’ kind of person.”

“Ah, I see,” she chuckles, bringing her knees up to her chest and encircling her arms around it. “So a master of none?”

Harry laughs, a high pitched carefree one, “Better than a master of one.”

Companionate silence blankets around the two, Harry passes her his leather water flask - that was clasped to his belt - and she quickly drains it muttering a quiet thank you. Harry leans back on his elbows, looking up at the shimmering moon above, it’s lovely tonight, he thinks. He’s spent many nights in a bobbing vessel with nothing around but the moon as company but he doesn’t feel the familiar solitude tonight. There was no intolerable silence this particular night, just the tinkle of Y/N’s anklet and silent sighs that escapes her lungs. His gaze flits over to her cheek, smushed against her arm, her gaze is fixed on her fingers as they fiddle with the ornament. A simple gold rope with a small lotus motif made from three pink diamonds and an emerald, clasped around her ankle.

Her foot. That’s what caught his attention, not the precious stones, but the curve of the arch of her bare feet. He wonders if it would tickle when he runs his lips over them, as he slowly nudged her knees apart, the fabric slipping away, the way her anklets would tinkle over his shoulders in sync with his head between her thighs. He shakes his head, rubbing his face, shifting to conceal his hardening cock and shoots her a polite smile.

“Not knowing,” Y/N says. “I do not like the deep waters because I have no idea what’s underneath.”

“No one does, Y/N,” he reminds her.

“I know. It is uncomfortable to not know. It feels like I am at its mercy, with the currents that can drag me under in a split second, if I’m not careful enough. It’s vast, and we have not explored these territories. I met with this woman that studies living creatures, and she believes that there is a high possibility of colossal squids and fishes deep down. There are old sailing accounts and drawings as proof. You have seen giant sharks and whales, have you not?”

Harry nods, as she continues fidgeting with her anklet.

“Life began in the waters, Harry, and we hardly know a thing about it. We cannot survive diving the depths; we certainly cannot compete with the predators that we know of. Imagine being at mercy of something unknown. It is the biggest mystery known, quite possibly the worst because it takes up much of our planet and we cannot even begin to understand it. The ocean has had a longer time to evolve than us, and we know much of the sky than we do about what is below.”

Y/N looks up at him, chin resting on her arm, as she waits for a response. She feels a pang of regret opening up to him when she is not met with anything. You expect him to comfort him just because you kissed a few times, a voice rings in her head followed by her grandmother’s lecture of having one’s cards close to your chest. No royal ever spoke of things that frightened them, she never did either. So, why did she think this was a good idea? Her maternal great - grandfather, a Chera king, was thrown into the castle moat filled with crocodiles by his subjects. He was vain and cruel to his people - granted that could have been the reason - but it had been prophesied that he would meet his end by the scaly reptilians, so he rewarded people to poach every last one of them and had them all in his moat. Ironically, he actively participated in furthering his prophecy while trying to avoid it. People would not have picked death by crocodiles if they never knew about his irrational fear. The kingdom was in shambles for many years until the birth of her mother, which enabled them to forge an alliance with the Cholas through matrimony.

While the Princess was caught in her own dilemma, Harry had a similar one running through his mind. He wants to assure her how secure ships are. He wants to explain how when you’re in the middle of nowhere with dwindling supplies, you start to see and hear things that aren’t really there. He wants to tell her that worrying would do her no good, especially the things that were occupying her mind because they were simply out of her control. All of the things he’d come to learn from his father’s experiences and his own. She was right, they barely knew about the ocean, but it wasn’t something to lose sleep over. But he understands, Harry was also scared of the ocean as a child before he got used to it. This was Y/N’s first time, and fears aren’t supposed to be rational. It wasn’t far-fetched, she had her nose stuck in books for answers and was born into duties, which required she understood the workings of life. She prided herself for being a step ahead of people around her and to do that one needed control. But the moment didn’t call for revelations; she needed solace.

He gives her a sympathetic smile before going on to say, “I was scared of the endless ocean as a child too, especially at night. You’re right, we don’t know much about the sea but we do know a lot about the sky.

“Look up for me, Princess,” he continues and they both take in the twinkling dots in the blanket of the night.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, beaming up at the gleaming moon.

“It is. We’re so caught up by things around us, we often forget to look up. The sky's the one thing that will not change. The moon will wax and wane and the stars will stay right where they are, flickering, guiding us to shore. It helped to look up at the sky when I was scared or in trouble. To be reminded that in the grand scheme of things, my fears didn’t matter. For whatever reason, the cosmos flows through me and that would mean my existence is a marvel. Even for a speck - no bigger than a grain of sand on the beach - the sky has many wonders in store for me.”

She stays quiet, her eyes glassing over, blurring her vision. Harry quickly catches the stray tear from the corner of her eyes with the backs of his fingers. He coos, leaning over to brush his lips against her temple, “I apologise for saying something out of line, Y/N.”

“You're not out of line, Harry,” she hastily blinks back her tears. “It helps. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to-“

“I want to.”

Anyone else pondering their significance by looking out into the universe might end up feeling helpless, paralysed even, but she feels none of that. She was born into significance and her roles only cemented the burden of upholding the legacy of the Crown. So, letting herself feel like a mere speckle was liberating.

////

The days that follow the same routine - the Princess holes herself up in her cabin during the day with Shobhita. Harry’s unsure what she was up to - and formulating any judgement from the box of fabric spools one of the handmaidens carted into her room, and the occasional laughs from behind the door - he’s happy she was occupied. It was hard to catch a glimpse of her when the sun was shining; there were guard’s stationed outside at all times and he did not want to tick off the guard captain.

The nights. That solely belongs to the two of them. She would come out of her cabin two hours before midnight to catch some fresh air to find him softly smiling at her. He'd readily stand, at the ship’s bow, with a spear in his hand by the intricately carved wooden swan figurehead. Y/N had ordered the guard captain to retire at night, since he’d been stationed by her cabin all day. When he’d resisted - uncomfortable that the Crown Prince had instated a young man with no prior expertise as head of security- she’d gently reminded him that it was best for Harry to learn what guarding actually entailed in the safe confines of their ship. They’d spend the nights in each other’s companionship, Y/N’s heart swelled with Harry’s stories. Particularly the one of him as a boy, where he was convinced that someone had left a giant bunny up the moon. She looked at him endeared as he pointed out the outline of the rabbit in the dark markings of the full moon. It soothed her, looking up at the heavens with someone made her confining thoughts about the ocean melt away.

This night was no different, the Princess pads to her usual spot to find a blanket spread out with two pillows. Her eyes fly to meet him and he gives her the same smile he did every night, bending down to light the two oil lamps, illuminating the jade of his eyes. “Your highness,” he bows, stepping away.

She nods, shooting him a surprised smirk as she curls up with her book. Harry eyes the old parchment she unfolds, a star catalogue, and he can’t help the chortle that escapes his lips.

“Stop it, Mr. Styles,” Y/N shoots him a warning look, not wanting to draw the attention of the crew.

“I apologise, majesty,” he murmurs, but Y/N notices the mocking smile that paints his lips.

She pointedly ignores him with a roll of her eyes, as she focuses her attention on Aryabhata’s text in front of her. Harry had challenged her last night, and she was determined not to lose.

The crew had dropped the anchor and had retired below deck a short while ago, and Harry could not help but admire the furrow in between her brows as she concentrated. Harry had spent the last few nights pointing out different constellations that Y/N simply could not fathom. Harry was amused that it bugged her so much that she couldn’t map out the stars in the night’s sky with ease. Her anklet falls on the blanket, and he’s sure that she had loosened the clasp from how much she fiddled with it while reading. She sighs, turning her attention back to the gold rope, fastening it in place, making sure to press down on the hook.

“Rijl al-Qinṭūrus”, she reads out loud in Arabic after a long while, flicking up to look at the sky. The star map had a figure of a centaur and all she had to do was find the brightest one right at the bottom. Her head cranes to find the brightest spot in the sky - the alpha centauri.

The only problem was, there were multiple bright specks and she lets out a defeated sigh, pushing her hair back, “Fuck this,” she mutters.

“Not very royal of you, Princess,” Harry’s teasing tone floats over, she finds him slumped over the bannister looking at her.

“It is the brightest and biggest star to spot at night,” he reminds her.

She narrows her eyes at him, looking back at the star catalogue again, and slumps back in defeat. “There’s something wrong with this star catalogue,” she declares. “There has to be, Harry.”

“Or maybe you are inept at this,” he smirks, coming to sit beside her.

“I am not!” She protests. “The illustrations are misleading. None of the constellations look like this,” she points to the image of a centaur holding a spear on one hand and a dead goat on the other.

“That’s because it’s meant for people like you,” he chuckles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She arches her brow.

“Someone who learns from books. It only makes sense the catalogue has full fledged pictures of animals on there, otherwise it would be a mess of lines connecting one dot to another. So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs.

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin. They hadn’t kissed since he’d left for Lanka and every night he’d spend in her presence, Harry’s mind could not stop drifting to the way her mouth pressed against his with urgency.

Y/N eyes flutter shut, leaning towards him, nudging his cupid's bow with her lips. Her mouth brushes his as she whispers, “Not before I get my information, spy.” She backs away, observing the way his pupils dilate under the soft buttery light.

“You can’t spot the alpha centauri-”

“I know, which is why I asked you.”

He rolls his eyes at her hastiness. “No one can, because it can only be seen from the southern hemisphere.”

“You tricked me,” she gasps.

He shrugs, as he tugs her to him, wasting no time in capturing her lips against his. It was more heavenly than he’d remembered. Y/N’s hands snake up to bury them in the baby curls at the nape of his neck, bringing him closer. She melts against his chest, curiously slicking her tongue against his lips, smiling as he parts his mouth for her. She tasted like the tamarind candy she loved. Harry drops one of his hands from her cheek, finding home in the curve of her hip. It’s heady, both greedily smacking wet kisses the curve of their jaw when they part to draw in air. Harry’s heart thumps loudly against his chest, sending him rhythmic reminders that he was twitterpated by the woman trailing her lips against the stubble of his jaw. Plebeians and royalty don’t mix, and on the rare occasion that they did, it never ended well. But until midday tomorrow - when they would reach the port of Handuman - she was just a woman, made from the same stardust as him, whom he wanted to keep melding lips with.

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