#a happy and healthy fjord will have long beautiful hair

[demenior]

I kinda missed wip wednesday so have some more of this scene i'm still working on.

Good owners provide their dogs with lots of enrichment

--

Jester’s horrible Xhorhasian accent returns, and she pretends to notice the pin in Eadwulf’s collar, “oh! Wait, I know this one. You’re Tusktooth’s Hound, aren’t you?”

Eadwulf can’t hide his grin, “you won’t get anything from me.”

“We’ll see about that,” and Jester turns to Fjord now, “he says he won’t talk.”

That is another one of Fjord’s prompts. He grips Eadwulf by the chin, craning his head back to expose his throat and observes the man like he’s looking at livestock.

“Not much use for a quiet spy,” Fjord muses, putting on what he thinks is a generic Xhorhasian accent, “but I suppose this one is nice to look at. We could make use of him after all. I hear Tusktooth makes other use of him.”

Eadwulf’s breath hitches. He makes only a small effort to try and pull away.

“I do like my toys,” Jester agrees.

Between the two of them Eadwulf groans with a notable full-body shudder.

When he does speak, his voice is breathy, “I can— I’ll do anything. I have to get back to them. My— my Masters. They’ll wonder where I’ve gone.”

Jester shares a wink with Fjord, out of Eadwulf’s sight.

She yanks on the lapels of Eadwulf’s coat to pull him from Fjord’s grip, and get his attention, “show us what you do for your Masters. And if you’re good enough, we might let you live.”

Jester extends a hand, and Fjord takes it to help her stand up. She keeps her face serene but her grip is tight and her ankles wobble in her tall shoes.

“We don’t have to bother with these disguises any longer,” she announces.

That’s another cue from her long list of notes. Fjord snaps his fingers and slips into another appearance. In the spirit of things, he’s keeping his features the same, but hiding his tusks behind the illusion. With darkened skin and pale hair twisted into a braid over his shoulder, he thinks he could pass for a Drow.

Jester casts the same spell on herself. Her skin becomes darker, and her hair black. Those appear to be the only changes.

“To the bed,” she orders Eadwulf.

He snaps to attention, scrambling to his feet.

Jester’s grip on Fjord tightens as she steadies herself, and she shoves Eadwulf with the toe of her shoe. He hits the ground.

“Dogs don’t walk,” Jester announces, “they crawl.”

#wip #im tagging this for the eadwulf crowd bc i know yall like the dog metaphors w him #eadwulf grieve #i think fjord likes disguise self-ing into people with long hair #bc he likes having long hair #but he keeps having anxiety spirals and cuts all his hair off lmao #a happy and healthy fjord will have long beautiful hair #anyways thats why he gives himself the braid here #thats meta that no one asked for! #a heart that howled fic

[honestsycrets]

Thank the Vanir | [ Ivar x Reader ]

❛ pairing | Ivar x Reader

❛ prompt | It was bananas with Ivar, but I changed it to Apples. Written for my patron @alicedopey

❛ summary | None of your friends know the truth; you rather they stay that way. Ivar celebrates a new beginning.

❛  warnings | impotency implied, functional family dynamic (no brothers bitching at each other as in the show), pregnancy mention, soft!ivar, squabbling OCs, pure f l u f f

❛ sy’s notes | here is the first of my squares filled for my Summer Patreon Party event! Best to start off with my favourites: pregnancy. I don’t have other preggo fics this event so, cheers! Another fic will hitcha tomorrow.

Ivar hates it when you don’t listen to his suggestions. They are simple enough; Don’t stress yourself with the birds. But you have this awful habit of not listening to what he asks. He breaches the doorway of his Great Hall after a long day in the soft sun.

“--he was this big,” says your blonde headed friend Alva, whose hands were like a man’s, plump and strong. Ivar wonders what magic she has. It has to be something to bring in the sort of men that she did. Maybe it was her mouth.

“Big or small?” prompts your lifelong friend, Revna. Her hand weaves your hair into divine memorized patterns. Under and under, they both weave patterns into your hair. Revna mouths around a pin, easing it into place on your head. “Are you so sure?”

Though you’re tired, exhausted even-- the women sit on the ledge of his throne, braiding your hair into something new and pretty. He glances off from his place at the mouth of the his Great Hall, listening to your friend’s incessant chittering between his men eating their dinners at the many tables.

“Big! I told you, big!”

“Little Hvitserk isn’t that big. He is more like…. This,” Revna clasps her hands over Alva’s hands, leaning them in, then barks in her haughty laughter looking toward you. “Isn’t he, isn’t he?”

“Ah! What would she know!?” Alva pouts, looping ties around your pre-existing braids.

“Perhaps it is genetic!”

“There finished. There, look how pre-- Wait,” she leans in, her black eyes prodding you for an answer. You hide behind your bowl of berries. It’s not time yet for your favourite fruit-- apples-- to be in season. So you’re stuck with the tart berries, shaking your head in disapproval as she spoke. “You’ve never slept with Hvitserk, have you? Wait. They shared that slave. What was her name, what was her name…”

“Margrethe.”

At last you speak. It’s something soft and gentle, something that prompts him to limp closer to save you. His calibers shift in place and his body follows suit with them. His back straightens and pulls up, each jab pierces the wooden plates under his hovering. You sit up, swatting the girls to hush, suddenly animated.

“No, of course she’s never fucked Hvitserk. She only has eyes for Ivaaaar. And why would she? Hvitserk looks like a misshapen woman. What are you thinking?”

“He does not!”  

“Revna stop. He’s coming, he’s coming.” you swat her, tugging your finished braids over your shoulder, standing up with a hand on your swollen stomach. “Girls,” Ivar’s hand flicks out, then back in again, taking its place over your belly. “You won’t mind if I take my wife?”

But they argue like birds in a tree over a chunk of bread. They’ve already forgotten about you with their eyes square on his body-- he can feel them looking at him, debating his brother’s size based on his size, and there they go again. Ivar is grateful that he wasn’t challenged in getting erections, only keeping them. Revna doesn’t care for Hvitserk, not as much as her other half. His beard is patchy and he looks like a bitch! You did not! Look at Ivar!

“Hurry, they argue,” you rush toward the doors of Kattegat, imploring him to walk through his people gathered there. Ivar stops just outside of the grand double doors of his hall, turning his head toward the chariot waiting there.

“They may be annoying,” he mutters, but his hands wander, and find your beautifully braided hair underneath a finely set crown. “But they do beautiful braids. You look perfect.”

“You should let them do yours.”

“You expect me to sit with them?” You could see if now. How they would argue over the stupidest things-- like whose cock was bigger-- or ask how big Ragnar was. Even though, as word had it based on the women in the outskirts of town, he was a sight in his youth.

“I rather you do it. Come, get on first.” Ivar adds. You pluck up your skirts, mounting his chariot with ease.

“Where are we going?”

“On a ride,” Ivar gestures. “Have you told them?” he ponders. You hand off an empty bowl of berries to a thrall there, pulling the long train of your dress up preemptively. You rather not trip after all. You wait until Ivar has mounted before responding to his question-- only when he’d snapped his reins. Cool air whizzes through your hair as he rushes through town.

You glance between the rushing buildings where Hvitserk’s hut was. Thora’s home with Hvitserk billowed smoke. There was no point to telling them private secrets; They would always tell them. Most of Kattegat did. “Tell them what?”

“That I didn’t--” you cut him off.

“I don’t know what you mean, Ivar. Sigtryggr is your son.”

He snaps the reins a little harder, flying through the gate of the home and into the open well ridden roads. “He is.”

“Where are you taking me?” You ask, noting the flat fields that stretch on for miles. On the outskirts of town, the fields become rich forests, richer still with your favourite fruit: apples. You’d not realized that while the apples were not in harvest, their blooms were in full display now. In the trees were their soft, bouncy blooms that contrasted against the dull brown of Kattegat’s unkempt buildings. They had not been painted in some years and so the colours dulled some. There’s something intrinsically beautiful about the simplicity of nature. Ivar comes to a stop, stepping off to tie his horse off.

“I don’t remember there being so many wild apples in this area.”

“There weren’t,” Ivar hobbles over. “I imported them from York.”

The timing had been happenstance. When he came home from York to conquer Lagertha, he did not know that they would bloom in time for your pre-determined pregnancy. They could have not bloomed at all. He thanks Thor, his pendant beating on the exposed flesh of his chest, that it did. The god’s favor was his.

“A celebration for your conquest,” you tease, stopping above a tree that spoke to you in a particular way. “How sweet.”

He envelops you from behind, forgetting his crutch on the ground. It thunks among tall grass as his hands come around you. A small wind wafting through your hair, carrying wind to the fjord. You turn your head toward it-- toward him.

“A celebration of new life with my wife,” he cradles you in a warmth of security that is his arms. His term of celebration-- its better -- infinitely better than yours. You reach back and smooth your fingers over his coarse hair. A new crown, a new marriage, and above all-- a new life. There’s a lot of new this year, a lot of reasons to be happy and pray for a healthy delivery.

“Thank the Vanir.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44 @readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @beyond-the-ashes @supernaturalvikingwhore @mblaqgi @wuxiesalt @hopplessdreamer @therealcalicali @rekdreams-fandom @moondustmemories @athroatfullofglass @poisonedjoinery @strangunddurm @shookforyoojung @peachesnpisces @tierneygonzalez @hexqueensupreme @nohemi2500 @queenmissfit @alicedopey @dmv49 @sallylebecks @terrainhead @mybarnesmyhero @youurkryptonite @lif3snotouttogetyou @vikingsmania @looneytunes20033 @bat-fam-blob @oneofthelothbroks @lovelynerdytraveler @chinduda @whatamood13 @honeyofthegods @ilvebeenabad @queenbeeta @wonderlandofsu

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar ragnarsson/reader #vikings imagine #vikings imagines #vikings/reader #Vikings x Reader

[sidras-tak]

widobrave week, day 3: flowers

flowers for the wedding, buttons for the marriage. this one is about the flowers.

Flowers: that was Veth’s one request when Jester asked what she wanted. “Not buttons?” Jester had asked teasingly.

“No. Buttons are for collecting. They’ll always be there, the same as they were the day before. Flowers are for cherishing. They’re beautiful but they don’t last as long—just a day or so, once they’re picked. Flowers for the wedding.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Buttons for the marriage.”

“You got it,” Jester said with a wink, and went to make some drastic changes to the design of her honeymoon present. She was going to need a lot of buttons.

The wedding of Veth and Caleb might have been a small affair, comparatively, but the Mighty Nein threw themselves into it with all the seriousness of dragon-fighting. Fjord organized labor according to his teammates’ strengths—also giving himself every odd job one of the others didn’t have time for. Caduceus cooked and helped keep the greenery healthy and vibrant. Beau did the heavy lifting of setting up the venue and ran errands for everyone else. Jester designed Veth’s wedding dress and Caleb’s robes—if they thought the party in Nicodranas was fancy, they had another thing coming. She didn’t even slip an image of the Traveler or a phallus in with the embroidery on Caleb’s coat. It was that serious. Yasha took care of the flowers. She arranged them in bouquets—one for every member of the Nein, with the biggest, most extravagant ones for Caleb and Veth. She braided crowns and strung up chains of them across balconies and doorways. With Caleb’s help with transportation, she gathered flowers from every place they had a connection to and brought them back to the Xhorhaus. The ceremony was to take place there. Veth had nixed the beaches of Nicodranas for obvious reasons, and winter in the Empire was hardly conducive for a celebration. So they both said they’d rather go back home, back to the first place where their little family had put down roots. The tree—Caduceus had asked it’s permission—was more than happy to provide shelter and venue for the occasion.

The night before the wedding, Yasha tracked Veth and Caleb down. “Everything’s in order for tomorrow. I made a bouquet for each you, don’t worry.”

“But?” Veth asked, frowning. Yasha smiled, a nervous, tight thing that made Veth’s frown deeper.

“But, I also made something else. Here.”

She opened her hands to reveal delicate corsages of dried flowers, one in each palm. They were unique, a strange mix of locations and ages, and the flowers didn’t mesh well together visually. The petals were fragile and faded.

“These are the flowers you were going to bring to your wife,” Caleb said. 

Veth reached out, but couldn’t bring herself to touch the corsage, feeling like if she did, it would crumble into nothing. Caleb did not move, but stared at the flowers as if they might impart some silent wisdom to him. Yasha said, “On loan. I do want to bring them to her, but…she’d love it, knowing the flowers I bring her had been at a wedding.”

“Was she a romantic?” Veth asked.

“Yes. Not as much as me, though. She would make fun of me for it, sometimes.”  Yasha’s expression grew distant and sad, but that sadness was distant, too, old and well-worn.

Quietly, Caleb said, “You once said your tribe marries for life. Do you have a problem with Veth and I marrying, even though she’s already married to Yeza?”

Yasha gave it a thoughtful pause. “Hmm. No. I did technically break up an engagement when I ran away with Zuala—it was my own engagement, but still. But I’ve seen, time and time again, how much you two love each other. Of course seeing you married makes me happy. I won’t ever marry again….but that doesn’t mean my friends have to stay apart. I…it gives me hope to see you married, actually. There are few things as beautiful as a promise to love each other.”

“Thanks,” Veth said, meaning it for two things. “I would be honored to wear your wife’s flowers.”

“As would I,” Caleb added, taking Veth’s hand and squeezing it. Veth squeezed back.

“Good,” Yasha said, relieved. “Are you nervous for tomorrow?”

Veth waved a hand. “Nah. I’ve been through a lot scarier than a wedding. Including my first wedding. Don’t ever get married at twenty—it’s terrifying. But I’m not scared now.”

Yasha merely smiled and placed the corsages in their hands.

There were flowers everywhere at that wedding, both for decor and in the guests’ wardrobe. Luc and Yeza were gifted the large bouquets that had been meant for Veth and Caleb. Luc’s bouquet was almost as large as he was, but he pushed the flowers away from his face and carried them with pride, up the aisle, and stood next to his mother’s side at the base of the tree. She gave him and Yeza a hug and kiss each, and then turned to join hands with Caleb. He was decked out in as many flowers as Veth—threaded through his hair, tucked into his clothes, a crown of them resting on his head. He smiled and touched the small corsage pinned to his chest. Veth touched hers as well, tied to her wrist with a bit of shiny ribbon. Caduceus called his friends to attention, standing in front of Veth and Caleb with his staff at the ready. As he invited Veth and Caleb to speak their vows, he tapped his staff against the ground and coaxed a more vibrant blossom out of the plant life around him. Words of love and flowers bloomed all around them, welcoming them into the rest of their lives.

#sparklepants #critical role #widobraveweek #widobrave week #kit writes #really really happy with how this one turned out

[nd43kinks]

important fjord and caddy daddy thoughts

you know i have Thoughts.  In this, Fjord is trans and Cad is genderfluid with a penis.

because it’s me i have to insist that fjord gets pregnant while they are having some sort of wildmother ritual sex.  because i love that shit.

normally Cad is pretty passive when they have sex, he’s a chill service top who takes things slow with Fjord, but this ritual gets him in his rut and he becomes so possessive, so feral with want for fjord that it’s kinda overwhelming.  I dunno if firbolgs should have knots but if they do this is definitely the first time he knots fjord.

they have sex in a field and their union makes flowers bloom around them because WILDMOM APPROVES.

the intention was not to have a baby, it’s the passion of the union that the ritual requires, so they don’t really think much about it in the coming weeks, until fjord starts getting morning sickness (which he fears is ukatoa trying to control him again)

they find out when Cad is healing fjord after a battle and senses the little heartbeat

THE WHOLE GANG GOES CRAZY.  A BABY!??! A BABY!!!!!  They lose their goddamn minds.

Fjord is insistent that he stays traveling with the group even in “his condition”.  he doesn’t want to be left behind.  Everyone becomes so much more protective of him.  Fjord definitely has to endure some conversations about his recklessness and impulsive tendencies in fights from the group, but not from Cad.  Cad understands him.

They spend a lot of time talking about the kid.  Caduceus comes from a big family, and has always dreamed of having a large one of his own, while Fjord never really knew what having a family was like... they’re both excited and scared but so HAPPY to be doing this together.

there’s a lot of sweet firbolg nuzzles on fjord’s belly as he starts to show, and cad talks to the baby all the time.

They are... concerned about gestation, since Firbolgs gestate for about two years, and orcs for only about 6 months.  Cad is very attentive and monitors Fjord’s health constantly.

the baby is pretty active when it gets bigger, especially when Fjord uses magic.

cad has always been pretty soft with fjord but he gets so much Softer and tender with lots of long glances and lingering touches and gentle kisses.  Fjord was already so in love with him but this erases any doubt he may have still had - he’d absolutely die for this firbolg man.

The Nein are all pretty much constantly on Baby Alert now, and they all have their own way of dealing with it.  Jester especially is so ready to be Auntie Jesse, and she constantly gives (terrible) suggestions as to what to name the baby.

Nott is also constantly giving Fjord teasingly bad advice... as the only parent in the group, she’s the expert, but she can’t help but mess with fjord.  Fjord pretends to believe her constantly, causing her to freak out when it appears that he really is going to do something like eat nightshade to “make the baby stronger.“

There has to be some sort of scare at one point where Caduceus goes down in a fight, maybe protecting Fjord, and Jester has to rush to heal him while Fjord is desperately trying to hold his hand and press it to his belly with urgent cries of “stay with me!  stay with us!”

When fjord’s belly gets too large to wear armor anymore, he begrudgingly agrees to step back from combat when able.  He doesn’t like it, but the baby kicks too much to really be an effective fighter anymore, and his large belly is just a huge target now.

after passing the nine month mark (longer than orcs or humans usually carry for), the toll on Fjord’s body starts to be too much, and he has to be bedridden.  I’m not sure if it’s at the Clay family home (I haven’t gotten that far but it seems chill) or at the Lavish Chateu (Marion being a great help to them as a mother herself) or just at the Xhorhaus.

the baby is big for Fjord’s body, being half firbolg, so he looks like he’s having multiples even though it’s just the one.

it’s hard to judge when he will go into labor, but they all agree it will be “early” for a firbolg child.  There’s no way his body will hold up for two years like this, and while it’s unclear exactly how long a quarter-human?-quarter-orc-half-firbolg should gestate, they pretty much all agree fjord won’t be able to hold on that long.  They all brace themselves for a premature birth and hope the baby will survive.

his water breaks at 10.5 months, and he goes into labor surrounded by the nien, all of them reassuring him and doing their best to help.  Caduceus is Afraid, and never lets go of Fjord’s hand.  Nott actually delivers the baby with help from Caleb.

She’s Big for a human but Small for a firbolg, and the labor lasts hours.  But finally she is free, and she is breathing, and Caleb places her gently on Fjord’s chest.

the moment he sees her Fjord knows he will never be the same again.  He’s now 600% devoted to this little baby.  She’s got big floppy ears like a firbolg, and a scruff of course black hair down her back like an orc, but she’s covered in downy grey fur and has a shocking tuft of pink on top of her head.

he is instantly worried in his post-labor delirium that she’s a runt (how big should she be?!?  We just don’t know) but Cad assures him she’s beautiful and perfect.  She’ll need to be watched closely, they’ll need to take care of her round the clock until they’re sure she’s healthy, but they’re in new territory here, and they don’t know what to expect from a baby with this genetic background.

I feel like they name her either Camila, Cleo, or Celeste.

It’s touch and go for a while, but the baby pulls through and eventually gains the strength and weight she needs.  It’s not hard when she has two dads and four aunts and one uncle to watch her constantly.  They all take turns staying up with her and feeding her and rocking her to sleep.

All of the nien turn out to be great with kids.  Jester loves to play with the baby and keep her entertained with magic.  Beau shows what a great older sister she would have been for her baby brother, constantly bouncing the baby and keeping her smiling.  Nott can barely hold her, she’s so big for her, but she still gives advice to the new dads (though now her advice is much more truthful).  Caleb is like “oh god i cannot hold the baby i will drop her or something” but once he gets used to having her in his arms she’s inseparable from him.  She ADORES her uncle Caleb.  Yasha is a little more reserved, the group gets the impression that she would have liked to have kids with her wife, but she’s tender and sweet with the baby and holds her like she’s made of glass.

Fjord’s milk production is usually not enough to keep her full, so Caduceus asks the wildmother for help.  She grants Cad milk of his own, so the baby can stay healthy.  They take turns letting her nurse, and Fjord’s heart grows three sizes every time he sees his little girl curled up in Cad’s arms to suckle.

When the baby gets a little older, Fjord and Cad discover she has firbolg magic (she’s able to disappear, which has caused Much Panic from Fjord).  She also grows in her Tusks pretty quick, making Fjord’s attempts to breastfeed her significantly more complicated.

Despite all the panic from the pregnancy and premature birth, Fjord is talking about having more kids pretty quickly.  Cad insists that they should, like... actually do some preparation this time, now that they kinda know what to expect.  They research potions and magics to help with the pregnancy and ease the strain on Fjord’s body.

The next time Fjord gets pregnant, it’s twins, so he’s fucking glad they did that research lol

#mighty nein months #tmpreg

[pinkevilbobdoesthings]

Right, so, just going to be honest with you guys, I wrote like the end scene of a Beauty and the Beast AU fic staring Caleb and Jester. If you want to read it, here it is. If you don't, just keep scrolling.

So MyBatteryIsLowAndItsGettingDark suggested a Beauty and the Beast Au and then Tambuli suggested a twist that I could not deny. So I wrote the end of what really should've been a multi-chapter fic. I regret nothing and am counting this as a bonus fic for the fairytale prompt for Widojest Week.

Here’s ‘Finding You Can Change’.

______________________________

It was a tale as old as time. Or at least that's what Caleb was told. He wasn't sure that he believed that though. Caleb had a feeling that time existed before language was even a concept, but that kind of thinking has no place in love and poetry. Jester would grumble any time he brought logic into a conversation about stories or romance.

It was a straightforward enough tale; Caleb was a young man from the village ever curious and looking for more and Jester was, well, a beast. She was unlike anything Caleb had seen before with her blue skin, curling horns, and pointed tail. But she was at the same time was a young woman who loved sweet pastries, getting into mischief, and a good romance novel(though her and Caleb's opinions on what made a good romance novel often differed). That didn't change the fact that most people from the village would fear her for her looks, so Jester stayed in the castle hiding away from the world. "It's not so bad," Jester would say. "I've heard that the outside world is very overrated." There was always a distant, sad look on her face when she said that though.

Once, Jester told him that she was under a terrible curse that could only be broken by someone falling ‘madly in love with her and giving her true love’s kiss. “Then I won’t be alone anymore.” The look she gave him spoke volumes about how she hoped it was him. Caleb just shook his head. Falling in love was a mistake he was not going to make twice.

Caleb didn't stay at the castle, but he would frequently come up from the village to visit Jester. The castle had more books in it than Caleb had dared believe there were in the whole world. And if he had to be honest, Caleb enjoyed Jester's company. She was funny and had the sweetest smile. When he was back at the village, all of his thoughts would contain Jester.

The villagers had found out about Jester. A monster they called her and the term made Caleb sick to his stomach. He tried to tell them that she was good and lovely and fun and better than anyone in that village, but all Caleb got for his efforts was accusations of being mad.

Caleb followed after the mob and tried to stop them, but they got to the castle before him. A hot fire was set on the castle and Caleb managed to put it out. It was only then he could get the village to listen to him and understand that Jester would never bring harm to them. But it wasn’t enough. An arrow shot out of the mob piercing Jester’s heart and Caleb’s heart fell.

It was as though Caleb’s world had ended. Jester saved Caleb’s life and he could do nothing for her as life and blood left her body. He held onto her cold hand tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’t cry, Caleb,” Jester said her voice soft and fading.

“Oh Jester,” Caleb whispered. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to end. You never even got to leave the castle.”

“But I got to meet you Caleb.” Jester smiled like she couldn’t imagine anything better.

The tears fell on to Jester’s face. “Jester, there’s so many things I wanted to show you. You can’t leave me not like this.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” But the light in Jester’s eyes was fading.

Caleb could sense the presence of the shamed villagers behind him watching, but Caleb didn’t care. Let them watch as his heart died. He froze; he loved her. “You can’t leave, Jester. You can’t die. I’m lost without you.”

A sweet smile was tainted by the hint of blood in the corner of Jester’s mouth. “Oh Caleb, I-” but she didn’t finish what she was going to say.

“No, no, no.” Caleb couldn’t believe it. He kissed her. “True love’s kiss. See that fixes everything.” Pressing his lips gently to hers, he kissed her again. “You to come back. You have to.” Again and again, Caleb kissed her in desperation. “I love you.”

“Well, it’s about time.” A lilting whisper brushed Caleb’s ear. The hair on Caleb’s neck stood on end. Green mist swirled around him and Jester. He could practically taste magic from it. Caleb tried to focus on Jester but the mist grew thicker and thicker until he couldn’t see anything. Shivers ran down his spine and his everything. As fast as the mist came, it dissipated. Gasps filled the air behind.

But Caleb didn’t care as he saw Jester stirred. Blood no longer stained the stones beneath. Jester was whole and healthy. She cracked open an eye. “Caleb? Is it true? Can you truly love me?”

“Ja. I truly do.” Caleb nodded clutching her hand. A soft thumping came from behind him, but he paid it no mind. Jester was alive.

Jester gasped once she fully opened her eyes. “Caleb! What happened to you?”

Caleb looked down at his hands to discover they were now a bright red and his fingers ended in claws. He felt at his mouth to find fangs, and his hands trailed upwards to discover a pair of horns growing out of his head. Behind him a long thin tail similar to Jester’s swished lazily on the ground.

“This isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” Jester said her eyes filling with tears. “My curse was supposed to be broken. Not spread to you.” She drew away from him crouching down into a little huddle. “I don’t blame you if you hate me.” Her voice was thick with tears.

“Nein, I could never hate you. How could I? Now I match the girl I love. Now you’re not alone anymore.” Caleb wrapped his tail around Jester’s.

Jester looked at him with eyes full of admiration and tears. “But the village?”

The voices he had been ignoring suddenly assailed Caleb all at once. Questions and accusations were being slung all about. It was all too overwhelming and he didn’t know where to begin to protect Jester from it all. A hand rested gently on Caleb’s shoulder, Nott. “We’ll take care of them,” she said. Behind her, Fjord and Beau were already handling the crowd. “But you’ll have to tell me all about your girlfriend later.”

“Girlfriend?” Caleb was grateful that he was now completely red and no one could see him blush anymore.

Jester giggled, but it was weak and watery. “Did you really mean it? What you said about matching the girl you love?”

“Ja, I did. Jester, I love you very much,” Caleb said.

She smiled but ducked her head down. “So, is she right about me being your girlfriend?”

“Actually, I think I’d prefer the term fiancee if you don’t mind it,” Caleb said with a shy sly smile.

Jester tackled Caleb in a tight hug.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

____________________________________

Notes:

TIEFLING CALEB!!! Yeah that's why I wrote this.

So I was going to write an epilogue, but it just didn't work. But just know that Caleb and Jester got married and live in the village together and sometimes visit the castle. Caleb is a teacher and Jester works at the bakery. They are happy and cute together.

#widojest #widojestweek #critical role fan fiction #pinkevilbob writes

[bloodyshadow1]

Waging a War Over a Heart can be Pointless. Let’s Love her Together: Polyamory

    “Hey Yasha,” Jester spoke up to her barbarian friend, “what do you think of Beau?”

    It was a question that caught the barbarian off guard, forcing her to stop sharpening her sword and look at Jester.  They were the only two in the room, it was their first night back in Zadash after a long  mission, most of them were out of spells for the day and resting, Beau was downstairs drinking with a few impressionable young women who seemed very interested in the monk.   

Yasha thought a lot about Beau and thought a lot of things about Beau. It had been three years since they started traveling together, the Mighty Nein had grown closer and more powerful as the years went on.  They were something of a famous or infamous name in the Empire and the Menagerie Coast depending on who you asked.  They had all changed, grown in some ways despite being the same in just as many.

    Fjord had learned that he didn’t have to pretend to be Vandren or what he thought was a good leader, he learned they would love him all the same.  Caduceus learned about the world that was outside his little grove and that it was okay. Caleb learned that he wasn’t the monster he saw himself out to be, and that finding redemption was far more healthy than trying to change what couldn’t be changed.  Nott had learned to not hate herself for who or what she was, she had still taken Caleb’s offer to change her into a halfling when he offered the chance to her, but that was because she didn’t feel right as a goblin, not because she hated them.  Molly had changed a lot in some ways, at least to her, coming back from the grave a second time would do that to a person and when he came back as Mollymauk he cried tears of joy.  

    Jester had changed quite a bit as well, she was still happy and excited, full of joy and mischief, but experienced had tempered that, even though it had never, could never snuffed it out.  She had also grown quite beautiful, she was always pretty but now she looked like a blue, more muscular version of her mother.  The biggest change was that she stopped chasing fairy tales, stopped chasing after men because they were handsome and nice and there.  Beau had asked her about that once, Jester told her that listening to fairy tales was something for little girls, now that she’s a woman she’s going to be creating legends.  

Oh how things had changed for Yasha, her love for Zuala was still just as strong, stronger than ever actually, but she learned that she didn’t need to torture herself over her loss.  She celebrated Zuala, she celebrated the life and love her wife had brought to her life instead of mourning Zuala’s loss and hating her own weakness.  It had taken a visit to Zuala’s grave and talking with her spirit to make her realize that she didn't have to sacrifice her own life and happiness just because she was gone.  

Which lead her to Beauregard.  Beau had possibly changed the most without losing who she was back when they met in Trostenwald.  She was still a young woman filled with fire, that had caught Yasha’s eye so long ago, back then she had been mourning Zuala and felt ashamed that her eye had strayed for even a moment.   Beau was still full of fire, but it was more directed now, she had grown up to be a brilliant woman and a stalwart friend.  Recently Yasha had caught herself staring at the monk, just randomly, when she was

“Beauregard? I think she is very strong and a good fighter,” Yasha said trying to be half truthful, she did but that wasn’t the only thing or things Yasha thought about Beau.

“Well yeah, she’s always been that, but is there anything else,” Jester said in that voice that she thought she was being sneaky when she really wasn’t at all.

“Beau is a dear friend who has stood by my side for years Jester,” Yasha said flatly, “I think quite a great many things about her, if you would like to ask for something more specific than perhaps I can answer, but you need to come out with it.”  She adored Jester, but even with all her growth, Yasha was still terrible at reading social cues, she wanted people to be blunt when speaking to her to make things less confusing.

“Well I’m just wondering if you find Beau pretty,” Jester asked quietly, lost in her own thoughts.

“Yes Jester,” Yasha admitted, “I think Beau is pretty.  She’s always been quite nice to look at,” she admitted stiffly. Despite being small Beau had a nice amount of muscle on her, especially her arms and legs, Yasha had caught herself staring a bit too long when Beau did her morning workout.

“I mean yeah, that’s true,” Jester admitted, “she has always been beautiful,” she said zoning out as she remembered something.  “Her face has always been nice to look at even though her nose has been broken a few times.  Her hair’s always been really pretty, though I think I like it better when she wears it down now that it’s gotten so long. And her butt is fantastic, much nicer than any of my mother’s clients I can tell you that much, the men and the women.” And now Yasha felt her face starting to heart up, Beau did have a nice butt, it tended to draw the eye when she did her flips and bends. Weird as it was to talk about.  “But…, is it just me or does she seem, more…, yano, lately,” Jester said snapping out of it gesturing with her hands for something intangible.

“I suppose so,” Yasha agreed reluctantly, anyone other than Jester she’d be too uncomfortable to talk with, but it was bearable with the blue tiefling, with Molly this conversation would definitely be unbearable. Beau had been more lately, she seemed more free, she seemed lighter, she wasn’t more attractive, but she was just more.  “Is there a point,” it was sort of painful to talk about Beau like this with Jester.

“I just noticed that ever since we became famous, there have been a lot of women that have been flirting with her,” Jester said a little pouty.  Yasha had to grunt in agreement, there were many young and some older women that found the famous monk quite attractive, asking to touch her arms, or see her do a flip, bothersome.  Of course Beau wasn’t the only one who had fans, all the Nein had admirers, but Beau, Fjord, and Caduceus seemed to have the most.  Fjord was the most handsome and charismatic, Caduceus was someone big and exotic, and Beau ate the attention up with the ladies.  

“I don’t blame them,” Jester continued, “I like to touch Beau’s arms when I can, but I’m her friend and the one who heals her, I’m not some horny woman who likes groping her.”

“Jester,” Yasha chastised her lightly, it wasn’t like she didn’t want to think about Beau’s arms and how Beau was probably swarmed with women right now cooing and fawning over her asking her to make a muscle.  They were nice muscles but Yasha’s arms were bigger and so were Jester’s, Yasha had seen Beau’s arms in action, they were far more impressive when fighting a giant monster than they were in a bar giving soft women the vapors.

“I’m just saying she deserves better than a fangirl who likes her because she’s famous,” Jester said angry as she got up to pace around the room.  “Beau’s always been pretty and awesome,” Jester continued, “maybe she used to be more awkward but that was part of her charm.  Now these women flock around her because she’s famous, not because she throws herself in front of a hydra to make sure it doesn’t hurt us, they don’t know what it’s like to have her hug you after rescuing from slavers, they don’t know what it’s like when she makes a dumb joke to try and make thing less heavy.  Beau deserves someone who loves her for who she is, warts and all.  Beau deserves to someone who loves her like…, like.”

“Like you,” Yasha says quietly, a pit forming in her stomach when she did.  She should have known what Jester really wanted to talk about.

“Or like you Yasha,” Jester said softly and sadly, “Beau’s had a crush on you since she laid eyes on you.”

“I-I,” Yasha stammered, it was true, even she knew that Beau was head over heels for her smitten since she walked into the Nestled Nook with Molly advertising for the Fletching and Moondrop. That was practically a lifetime ago, and Yasha was a different woman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’m not attracted to Beau, she’s gross,” she said pathetically.  “Besides,” she said somberly, “even if I was attracted to her and looking for a relationship, I’m pretty sure I burned that bridge a long time ago.”  

She had told Beau about Zuala last, she didn’t know why, or at least she pretended to not know why.  Yasha liked the awkward flirting Beau used in an attempt to woo her and secretly didn't want it to stop.  When she had told Beau, she expected the little monk to be angry with her, to claim the aasimar was leading her on.  Instead, Beau just looked up at her with those big beautiful blue eyes full of regret and apologized for making her uncomfortable and promised it wouldn’t happen again.  It hurt Yasha to see her like that, she had no way of knowing about Zuala until Yasha told her, but she still felt guilty over it and it broke Yasha’s heart.

Since then Beau hadn’t flirted with her, well Beau was still Beau and Yasha was a beautiful woman with arms meant to carry other women, but it was never like before.  Just friendly Beau flirting that she did with every woman.  At the time it was a relief because it meant that Yasha didn’t have to be confused by the strange charming monk woman that was unwittingly sneaking her way into Yasha’s heart.  Now though, that she might be ready to pursue a romantic relationship again with someone, someone that she’s fought beside and was secretly charmed by, it just made her feel regretful.

“Yasha,” Jester said like a mother scolding her for lying, “Beau is so fucking attracted to you, she watches you when you’re not watching her.  We’ve spent the last ten minutes  about how pretty and cool Beau is and pissed we are at all the sluts throwing herself at her.  I mean not that there’s anything wrong with being slutty,” Jester assured her for some reason, “just the problem is when they’re hanging off of our future girlfriend.”

“Wait what,” Yasha asked wondering if she was missing something or if she was just talking to Jester.

“Well yeah, I think Beau is pretty and cool, you think Beau is pretty and cool, both of us are pretty and cool, so why shouldn't we date her,” Jester said as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

“There are quite a few things wrong with that plan Jester,” Yasha said putting her foot down.

“We’ll yeah, we’re a part of the Mighty Nein Yasha, our plans our shit, yet we always get good results in the end.  It’s why we’re famous,” Jester said with her eyes bright with excitement. “Now here’s the plan.”

“I still haven't agreed to this Jester,” Yasha said but she felt it was inevitable at this point.  

“Look Yasha, I like Beau and I’m willing to fight for her, but I also love you.  I’m not sure if it’s the same way, but I’ll fight all those women downstair in every tavern in Wildemount if I have to, but I won’t fight you for her.  Would you fight me for her,” Jester asked giving the barbarian those soft sad puppy eyes.

“Of course not Jester,” Yasha said softly, truthfully, if she had to she would fight for Beau, but she don’t think she could fight Jester for another woman.

“Then why not just team up and make Beau love us?  We know Beau better than any of those shitty fangirls downstairs, we know what Beau likes.  She likes strong women and look at these,” Jester said flexing her arms and showing off her large bulging muscles for a tiny cute tiefling, they were quite attractive.  “We could go down their and use our feminine wiles, our huge muscles, and our knowledge of Beau to seduce the fuck out of her until she’s our girlfriend.”

“That is awfully aggressive for romancing someone Jester,” Yasha said skeptically.

“It’s Beau Yasha,” Jester said as if it was obvious, “I’m sure she’ll find it even more romantic if we do it my way.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Yasha admitted.  Beau would probably find it the sexiest thing in the world if two women beat the crap out of a bunch of other women in the hope of romancing her into a relationship together.

“so you’re in,” Jester asked.

“I’ll go along with it, I’m not sure about this though.”

“Yay Yasha,” Jester said jumping up and hugging the larger woman.  Normally it would be comical, but Jester was nearly as strong as Yasha herself, it felt nice to be hugged like that.  “We’re going to have so much fun.”

Which of course that was the moment Beau walked into the room looking tired, “man if you told me a year ago I’d get sick of hordes of women hanging off of me I’d of punched you in the face for that lie.  Now, well be careful what you wish for right,” she said brushing herself off.  She turned to see Jester hugging Yasha, “am I interrupting something here, I could leave to give you guys some privacy,” she said at the scene.

Yasha and Jester looked at each other, they were very close and it would be very easy to interpret what she saw as sexual or romantic, and they quickly split apart.  Jester recovered first though, “why would we want to leave Beau, when we were so excited for you to be here,” she said in that tone that for some reason she seemed to thing was sultry.

Beau took a step back, “is Jester okay,” she asked nervously, Jester’s voice might not be seductive to most people, but when it was directed at her, Beau fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“She’s fine,” Yasha said, sitting down on the bed.  She patted a spot beside her for Beau to take a seat.  “We just learned something new and want to discuss it with you, if that’s alright,” she tried to sound as gentle as possible, she wanted Beau to know that she was safe here and that the two of them would never hurt her.

“Alright,” Beau said confused but unafraid, she knew that the rest of the world could try and hurt her and break her but the two of them never would, “lets talk.”

Critrole femslash week day 5 entry, Polyamory. This is my first attempt at an ot3 ship, I’ve never had anything against it, but I’ve just never thought of it really.  This is a future fix be warned, hope you enjoy it. If you do, leave a review, a comment, a reblog if you can, likes and kudos are good, but they’re not real feedback

So yeah, this came about because I had this thought that Beau is actually very desirable, despite what the characters in the show act towards her (other than Keg) like she is and outside of the show itself there are plenty of sapphic women who lust after her and Marisha, what if that happened in the show itself and why.  

That’s why this is in the future where the Mighty Nein are kind of famous, in a way that Vox Machina never were.  Vox Machina were a group of powerful adventurers, but they were basically big in Emon and Whitestone where they pretty much made their bases.  They are influential and powerful, but they interact with the leaders of the countries and are just around the people.  The Mighty Nein are kind of a brand name thing, they tell people who they are all the time if only to see their reaction when they realize there are only 6-7 of them.  Beau is seen as the exotic hottie among the Wildemount women, since she’s so open with her lesbianism, something that despite there being open sexuality in the game apparently it really wouldn't be. Like there are a lot of LGBT+ people in Critical Role, but really I feel that’s because the players are very openly supportive about LGBT+ people, not really because the universe should be at that spot socially, if that makes sense.  Like there are people like Howardt who didn’t care about Tary’s happiness and despite knowing his son was gay still was going to marry him off to a women to gain wealth, or like Beau’s parents who despite living in a world where there are powerful women who are literally just as good as men, still despise their daughter because she’s their daughter and not a son.  Like I’m glad that things like sexism and homophobia only exist when they’re a problem in the world Matt Mercer made, but unfortunately it’s pretty unrealistic to me.  I’m not sure if I’m conveying my point correctly, but since most people don't read these things it doesn't really matter.  

I’m not going to pretend that both Yasha and Jester having a crush on Beau isn’t at least a little out of character, but the prompt was polyamory and this is what I thought of.

And yes, I did bring Molly back to life, it’s a future fic and it’s a fanfic so I can do what I want.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #the mighty nein #beauyasha #beauyester #beauyashter #beau x yasha x jester #jester lavorre #beauregard #beauregard lionett #beau #yasha #yasha nydoorin #fanfiction #fanfic #crfemslashweek #critrolefemslashweek

[occasionalfics]

Vuelie, part iii

I didn’t know how to rate fanfics in 2014 and I still don’t. Enjoy anyway!

Summary: Elsa meets a mysterious dignitary at a swanky reception.

~~~

The courtyard behind the main gates of the palace was decorated with light and frilly hangings and tables full of the most delicious food Anna and Elsa could think to ask for. Townspeople gathered there, though some did find their way into the palace and down the ballroom. After all, an open invitation to the kingdom is an open invitation; Elsa made sure that she and the staff would be able to handle such a large number of people.

           Everything seemed to be going smoothly about an hour into the party. Dinner was served at the start of the reception, and when the round dinner tables had been removed from the ballroom, the orchestra sounded and everyone began to dance and, once again, enjoy themselves. Even Elsa found it hard to worry about the mysterious man that had stared at her at the ceremony, as she was busy watching the festivities and even taking part from time to time.

           She found that she was not the only one that had changed her dress for the reception. While her earlier blue and black ensemble had been traded out for a dress made entirely of ice, with small, thin straps and long gloves, she noticed that some of the royal women from out of the country had brought along their formal ball gowns. The wife of the prince from some remote location in France that Elsa had hardly heard of walked into the ballroom in a large golden dress with golden gloves and off-the-shoulder straps. Even Rapunzel, a woman that Elsa knew to be quite the minimalist, had changed into a light pink gown with matching shoes and a pattern all along both that was surely one of her own.

           Throughout the night, Elsa was approached by the dignitaries (the ones that never seemed to really recognize how truly happy she was for her sister, as they always commented how almost inappropriate it was for Anna to be married before her), the townspeople, and of course, the Royals. A couple from across the North Sea, a vibrant woman with equally vibrant red hair and her husband, a tall, quiet man with hair as dark as Snow White’s made small talk about weather conditions and sailing. Eric, as the man insisted he be called, consistently looked out of the large stain-glass windows to get a look at the fjord, though Elsa found that to be a nearly impossible task considering the sun had gone down.

           She finally got the chance to meet the prince from France and his wife, Belle. Elsa watched as the held one another, always at the arms, and how they would look at one another in sync every few minutes, just gazing and making sure the other was real and there. She’d never seen anything like it, and she couldn’t tell if she was jealous or confused by what would cause them to do that.

           “You really should come visit us,” Belle said eventually, her voice soft and warm, and it reminded Elsa of sweet milk chocolate. Or perhaps that was the smell that was wafting into the room from the kitchen. “We have the most beautiful winters, and in the summer, our gardens are the best in all of France. And…we have an enormous library with more books than anyone could read in an entire lifetime!” Elsa watched as Belle’s eyes lit up at the mention of books and libraries, then as her husband’s face softened. He smiled so genuinely at Belle, his blue eyes almost closed, that Elsa felt a real twinge of jealousy for just the tiniest second. She didn’t need someone checking to see if she still existed every few minutes, but she wanted that look – a look of unyielding, unconditional love.

           “Of course, of course,” she said, if not to get her mind off of that look, then to appease Belle with the promise of a visitor.

           “Oh, and I must say,” the woman in gold continued, “the gentleman from Ireland, he’s been asking about you all day. Specifically you. By name.”

           That was the first mention of the redheaded man Elsa had heard all night. No one else had said anything to her about him, and she hoped it would’ve stayed that way – apparently though, she was wrong.

           “Me?” she asked simply. “Did he say why, by any chance?”

           Belle looked at her husband and shrugged. When she looked back at Elsa, she had an expression on her face that Elsa wasn’t sure she liked.

           “I’m afraid he didn’t. He wanted to know what you were like and how to approach you, but since we hadn’t yet met, I’m afraid we weren’t of much help to him.”

           Good Elsa thought. She hardly wanted that man to know anything about her, after the way he nearly crippled her earlier. Then again, it wasn’t as if he’d known what she’d felt after the ceremony. She had to be at least a tad reasonable – he wasn’t exactly at fault for something he wasn’t even aware of.

           “Please excuse my brashness, milady, but you may be able to put his mind at ease of you speak with him,” the Prince said. Belle glanced at her husband wearily, and Elsa stared blankly at him. She didn’t want to speak to the Irish man, and she didn’t have to because she was the Queen – but that kind of mentality was childish and rude, and if it meant getting the man off of her mind and getting herself off of his, she would bear a few minutes of idle chatter.

           “There’s nothing to excuse, Your Royal Higness. Perhaps I just might….have a word with this gentleman. Have you seen him recently?” she asked.

           “The last glimpse of him I got was him leaving the ballroom. I’m not sure where he was going, though,” Belle answered. Elsa tried to smile as warmly as she could before giving a slight curtsey.

           “Thank you, and thank you for being here today. It means so much to Anna and me.”

           Belle and the Prince both gave small responses before bowing as well and turning to dance. Looking around, Elsa tried to find the quickest route out of the ballroom. She feared being pulled aside and distracted because she wanted to get this man out of her head once and for all. She turned and made her way around the dancing guests as fast as she could, and surprisingly, she made it out of the room without much of a struggle.

           The music from the orchestra died down the further she got from the ballroom. Elsa didn’t know where to begin looking for the Irish man, knowing how immensely large the palace was. She kept her cool and tried to look as if she were wandering the halls as well, though it did occur to her that that might look suspicious, considering she lived in the palace. She knew where everything was, but that was half of the problem.

           Eventually, she ran into Vidar. The tall man bowed slightly, as he always did, then took a step towards the ballroom before Elsa stopped him.

           “Vidar,” she called softly. He turned and asked, “Yes, Your Majesty?”

           She almost told him that that was too much, that “milady” would do just fine, but she remembered why she was even standing outside of the ballroom in the first place.

           “You haven’t seen a redheaded man around the palace, have you?” she asked. Vidar perked up quite a bit, though Elsa wasn’t quite sure why.

           “Last I saw he was admiring the very portrait you had been earlier, Your Majesty,” Vidar replied. Elsa’s widened a bit and she gave a hurried, “Thank you,” before turning abruptly and scurrying to the portrait of her parents.

           When she came around the corner to the correct hallway, she saw him in full for the first time. He was tall, and his hair was even redder than Anna’s was. His skin was pale, even by Elsa’s standards, and dotted with orange freckles – at least, he had them in a line across his cheeks and nose. He wore a suit that somewhat resembled that of that of the guards that kept Arendelle safe, except that his was a deep blue, with a long green sash across him. There were small pins of honor adorning the upper left breast, and his pants were black with a long blue stripe down the sides.

           He stood facing the painting with his hands clasped behind his back and a smile on his face.  In a smooth, calm voice he said, “This is lovely, really.”

           Elsa moved closer apprehensively and realized that his accent was not Irish at all. In fact, it sounded more like the Duke of Weasleton’s had, without the nasal, rather crotchety undertone. This man’s was regal and certainly English, but without the Irish accents.

           “Now that I see her, I can see that you have your mother’s face.” He turned to Elsa and bowed. She stayed straight and rigid and silently prayed that she would stay calm and not freeze the entire palace – or even better, the entire kingdom again. “If you don’t mind me saying so, Your Majesty.”

           Elsa thought better than to tell him that she did mind. After all, he had technically done nothing wrong. She wasn’t angry with him, either, so there should have been no ill will between them – and there really wasn’t, but Elsa remembered how uneasy she had become in her study over his staring at her. She might never forget that feeling.

           “I do not mind your observations, sir, but I would really like to know what you’re doing so far from the celebration.” She folded her hands in front of her and stood as tall as she could make herself.

           “I thought it was obvious,” he said, his smile becoming more of a smirk. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

           She refused to tell him that he’d held her attention most of the day, since she’d first glanced at him in the pew. Disregarding what day it was, she wasn’t yet ready to admit that one person had occupied her thoughts so much and had caused a near panic attack.

           “Why?” she wondered. He took a step closer to her, still smirking, but playfully.

           “There’s something I must show you.” Without further ado, he brought one of his hands around him and held it palm-up towards Elsa. She stared at his skin, as pale and freckly there as his face was, but saw nothing. She nearly asked him what it was she was supposed to be seeing, but was stopped when she saw something begin to move – no, grow out of his palm.

           It started out as a little green speck and elongated into a healthy stem, then sprouted a tiny leaf and continued to grow without stopping. Within seconds, a beautiful red rose was sitting in the man’s hand. He turned it so that he held it by its stem and handed it to Elsa, who stood awestruck and wide-eyed.

           “You can- like I can- but….” She couldn’t form actual sentences any longer. Her breath had caught for the second time today over this man, and she still didn’t even know his name.

           “I can like you can, and like you, I was born with the ability.”

           “But how- and…” Still, words failed her. This might have been the first time in Elsa’s life that words were not enough, that something had surprised her so much that she was at a loss. But it was so hard to believe that anyone on Earth had a gift as magical as – no more magical than hers. It seemed impossible that anyone would even have a gift like hers, and suddenly she didn’t feel so alone anymore. Not that she had since Anna had saved her life; the difference now was that she had someone that knew what it was like to possess this ability.

           “How do you control it?” she asked. Elsa had to know. She couldn’t go through life guessing, because as much as she knew that love would thaw her ice, she still had issues keeping the ability under lock and key.

           “I don’t fear it.”

           There it was, right in her face. It couldn’t possibly have been that easy, but she supposed trying to keep the magic under lock and key was the first problem on her list. Even so, she had other things on her mind, like who he was, since she still didn’t know his name. Elsa continued to stare at the rose, barely noticing that this man was looking directly at her, waiting for her to say something. Her features softened as she turned the rose between her fingers.

           “Who are you?” she asked half-absently. She’d certainly forgotten her manners, but her attention was focused on the rose that he’d conjured out of thin air. For just a moment, she wondered how fair this was, that she was stuck with ice powers and he could create flowers and probably anything in the natural world, things that would die if she touched them the wrong way.

           She heard him chuckle, but only slightly.

           “Andrew Davies, Your Majesty.”

           She looked up from the rose finally and saw how close he had gotten. Elsa took a polite step back, or as polite as she could manage, her mouth held open in a rather disgraceful manner.

           “You- You’re not Irish at all, are you?” she asked. He chuckled once more, and Elsa couldn’t tell if it was because he thought she was comical or just because he liked to laugh.

           “Not myself, no. My family is, though. I was born and raised in England, and I serve in the British National Guard under His Royal Majesty, King George III. By the way, King George sends his best regards and hopes that you’ll understand that he’d rather a guard come to this wedding than he in case another flash-blizzard were to occur. I can assure you, though, he does so with the highest respect for your rule of the beautiful kingdom of Arendelle, Your Majesty.”

           Andrew bowed once more, and when he stood up, Elsa was staring at him as if he’d grown two heads. She didn’t know what to react to first – that somewhere, somehow, Belle had misinterpreted Andrew and insisted he was Irish; that Andrew was sent on orders to the wedding in place of his king; that King George III had any doubt about Elsa’s control (because while she had doubts of her own, she wanted others to believe completely in her competency); or that Andrew was more like her than she could have ever imagined anyone being.

           Everything was coming to her fast, nearly too fast to process. Her head was trying to grasp onto too many ideas at once, and before she knew it or could stop it, the rose in her hand was starting to freeze. She gasped as ice covered it, shielding its beauty from her and Andrew. He gasped as well, but his intake of breath sounded different than hers had. Elsa was shocked; he was surprised, and by the smile that grew on his face, pleasantly so.

           “Amazing,” he whispered. Elsa’s face contorted into one of disbelief.

           “Amazing? This?” she asked holding the now completely frost-covered rose out to him. He glanced at her face, his mouth still smiling but hanging open. He looked like a child with a small pile of chocolate all to himself. “This is freezing and killing something alive and beautiful.”

           His smile died as his rose did. He shook his head.

           “Your Majesty, your gift-“

           “Is a curse,” she intercepted. Again, he shook his head.

           “It’s a gift, I can assure you. Imagine the beautiful things you could do with such magic,” he said in an astounded manner. She could imagine beautiful things from her snow – ice rinks for skating and snowball fights in the middle of May, Olaf (though maybe beautiful was a massive overstatement when describing the snowman) and her safe haven, the castle up on the North Mountain that she had created with her own two hands.

           But she’d seen what her magic had done otherwise. It had nearly killed Anna twice. She’d frozen the entire kingdom and had run away like a coward, believing that being alone would fix all of her problems when it only created more dilemmas that she was not prepared to handle or deal with.

           And yet, though Andrew and the rest of the world knew that she had frozen Arendelle over, he completely believed that her magic was a gift. His certainly was, and there was no dark side to it that Elsa could foresee. How could a rose kill a person? she wondered.

           Elsa, having never been very good at confronting any sort of issue head on, straightened herself once again. She could feel her face was still full of disbelief of the worst kind, but she had had enough of Andrew and his magical flowers for one night. Besides, Anna was probably looking for her, or would be any moment. She’d been away from the reception for too long.

           In one curt motion, Elsa dropped the rose and let it shatter on the ground as she turned away from Andrew Davies, hopefully for good, and rushed back to her sister and the calming lights of the lively ballroom.

#frozen #vuelie