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americancowgirl19 · 3 years

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Tommy’s Little Girl

Summary: You’re the most precious thing to Thomas Shelby. So, when a guy comes into your life he isn’t the most supportive.

Warnings: fluff, angst, cursing

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Daughter!Reader, Reader x Male Character (H/n = His name, he can be whoever you want)

Word Count: 5,261

A/n: This was a request by an anon - Please can I request that Tommy Shelby’s daughter becomes engaged to a man behind his back and he refuses to acknowledge the engagement while the rest of the family do. After six months, just before the wedding, Tommy finally comes around to the idea... So, I added a few things to this request, I hope you still like it! I was just going to do the scene that the anon requested but I personally love writing who stories and backgrounds and shit so you get to see an entire life at Tommy’s daughter with the request included! Oh, and John doesn’t die cause fuck that.

Masterlist

You were the ultimate daddy’s girl. From the moment you were born you and your father were inseparable. The only thing that tore you apart was the war. You were barely two years old when he went off to serve his country.

When he left he entrusted Polly to look after you. Of course she treated you as if you were her own. She protected you as fiercely as she protected your father, uncles and aunt. Especially when your Aunt Kitty, Kitty Jurossi, showed up demanding that you were to go with her.

Kitty is your mother’s sister. She never approved of Greta being with Tommy. While Tommy taking care of Greta in her final days and loving her as he did was honorable, Kitty knew what kind of man he is. She knew what kind of family he had, what kind of business he partook in. She didn’t want you around them.

Polly always thought it was amusing how Kitty waited until Tommy was out of country to try and collect you. Kitty wrongfully assumed that Polly would just hand you over. Your mother’s sister was lucky she was able to return to her home with her life, especially when she tried to forcefully take you.

You remembered that day very vaguely. You don’t remember what happened but you remembered the yelling, someone grabbing you painfully and how scared you were. Your father had just left you for the longest time in your life and now this woman was trying to take you from the person you considered your mother.

The years without your father were long and unmemorable. When he finally returned home you were five going on six. You waited on the train platform with Polly, Ada and Finn. Polly kept a tight hold on you as the soldiers came off the train and went to their families.

You tried to find him but you were far too short and all of them were wearing the same uniform and cap. You jumped in your spot just itching to run into his arms. It didn’t matter that you didn’t really remember specific details of him. You remembered the feeling you had with him. You remembered being safe and happy with him. You remembered being sad and lonely without him. You’d rather be safe and happy than the other part.

“There they are!” Ada shouts. Your head darts to where she was pointing. When you spotted him not even Polly was able to hold you back.

You remember him shoving his way through the others to get to you. When you were close he dropped to his knees and pulled you into his arms. You clung to him.

Then, just like before he left, the two of you were inseparable once again. The only time you weren’t together was when you were sleeping (although on rough nights you often found your way in his bed) or when he had dangerous Peaky business.

You were the Shelby princess. You were untouchable. You didn’t figure out how much you could get away with until you were older. You could murder his best friend - not that you ever killed anyone - and the longest he’d stay mad at you would be a few hours, a day at most.

Anything you wanted was yours. You were spoiled but you were also kind and generous. You had bratty streaks but who didn’t? You may have been the light of your father’s life but you were John’s partner in crime. Whenever his own kids got too much or he wanted to pick on his brother’s you were the one he came too.

As much as he did truly enjoy spending time with you, John also knew that with you by his side he wouldn’t get into as much trouble as he would without you. All you had to do was give your pretty little smile and bat those eyelashes and Tommy was wrapped around your finger.

Even when your siblings came into the world you were number one. You didn’t exactly like Charlie, not Grace, at first. They stole your father’s attention, something you weren’t used to sharing. Eventually you warmed up to them.

You were sad when Grace died but not nearly to the extreme as your father. His heart break broke your own heart. You felt as if nothing you did eased his pain. In reality, you were the one person keeping him from completely spiraling. He spiraled but just being with you managed to slowly bring him back.

You were a little more welcoming toward Lizzie and then Ruby. By the time Ruby came around you adored Charlie. Ruby quickly wiggled her way into your heart. You became fiercely protective of them. You helped Lizzie with them when Tommy got too busy. When you needed a break you joined your father to the office and he would continue explaining what he did.

To you, life was perfect. You had everything you needed and everything you wanted. Tommy kept you in the business just enough to satisfy you but not enough to put you directly in danger. You didn’t understand a lot of the politics and drama within the family but to you it didn’t matter. You had your family, you had your fun, and life was great.

Then, as you were creeping up on your mid-twenties, you met the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You were in the market with Lizzie, Polly, and Ruby. You had wandered a bit from the others. There was some jewelry you were looking at when he came over.

He was tall, muscular, and extremely handsome. He had a boyish smile and a flirtatious personality. It didn’t take you long to also figure out that he was clumsy and adorable. You were instantly hooked.

You two talked (flirted) for longer than you thought. Before you knew it Polly, Lizzie and Ruby were rejoining you. Polly was weary of him but it was obvious that he quickly won Lizzie over.

Much to your displeasure, once the three of them showed up you were quickly whisked away from him. Polly had said it was time to go and not many people were brave enough to argue with her.

Even on the way home you thought about him. You hoped that you would see him again but you figured it was unlikely.

Word got around about you meeting Mr. Handsome at the market. Your uncles teased you and Ada interrogated you. Your father was oddly quiet on the other hand. He didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t. He just hoped that your paths wouldn’t cross again.

Tommy knew you were getting older but that didn’t mean he liked it. He wanted you to stay his little girl for a while longer. He wished you were still small enough to ride on his shoulders and small enough for him to engulf you in his arms. But you were growing into a beautiful young lady. Whether he liked it or not other men were bound to recognize your beauty and seek you out. He had been lucky, for the most part, about your disinterest in dating, but it wasn’t going to last.

Most of the women your age were already married with at least one child. You were content by yourself. You were gaining responsibilities with the business and being your father’s personal helper. Even though you were content you wanted more. You wanted your own family to come home to with your own kids.

Fortunately, for Tommy, you wouldn’t see the boy from the market for quite some time. It had been so long you had forgotten about him. Until suddenly he showed back up.

The Shelby’s were having a night at the fights. You were enjoying yourself. You didn’t get dolled up often but when you did you went all out. You felt beautiful thus making you feel confident. On top of that, everyone knew exactly who you were which meant heads turned in your direction everywhere you went. You felt important, untouchable.

You sat with your aunt Ada, Aunt Polly, and step mother Lizzie. The three of you were talking amongst yourselves while the boys hollered at the match in front of them. When the fighters changed out you happened to look up and there he was.

Ada had been talking to you but you suddenly stopped listening. He was bigger, more muscular, than you remember. He didn’t seem as clumsy anymore yet he was just as handsome.

“Y/n,” Ada shouts over the crowd.

“Oh, will you look at that,” Lizzie states looking at who you were staring at.

“Who’s he?” Ada questions. Lizzie reminds her about the guy from the market you had met over a year prior. You continued to ignore them.

Right before the match started his eyes connected with yours. He obviously recognized you. He sent you the same boyish smile he had in the market causing a light blush to come to your cheeks. He bravely sent you a wink before focusing on the fight.

Your eyes remained glued on him with Tommy’s eyes started at you. He had noticed the interaction and didn’t like it in the slightest.

When the match ended, with his unfortunate loss, you excused yourself to the loo. You weren’t fooling anybody. Everyone who paid attention knew where you were going and Tommy had half a mind to stop you when something grabbed his attention. The split second his attention was off of you gave you the time you needed to disappear into the crowd.

“H/n,” You say, standing in the doorway of the locker room. You were slightly nervous - a lot nervous - but you weren’t 100% sober so that helped. His head snapped up at the sound of your voice.

“Y/n,” He says, turning away from his locker and toward you. “Shelby,” He adds. You hadn’t told him who you were. It was obvious he hadn’t known back then and you wanted to keep it that way.

“In the flesh,” You gave him a twirl. “You fought well tonight,”

“I lost,” He deadpanned but didn’t look all that bothered by it..

“Caught me attention,” You told him.

“Guess it wasn’t a complete loss then, aye?” He smirks. “How about you make me a winner tonight and agree to a date?” You blushed.

“I can do that,” You agreed.

From there your relationship blossomed. The two of you fell for each other quickly. He started showing up around the family more. Your uncles hazed him, Ada and Polly constantly interrogated him, and your father silently judged him. No matter how hard you or H/n tried, your father never came around.

H/n didn’t care about Tommy’s disapproval of him. He loved you with all his heart and nobody was going to keep you from him. He may be funny, charismatic and handsome but he knew he was selfish with a side of possessive. In his mind, you were his and he wasn’t letting you go. He would do anything to keep you and to keep you happy.

It honestly was no surprise that less than a year later the two of you were engaged. He had taken you out on a picnic under the stars on a beach. You had dinner, went swimming and had a fire in the sand. While stargazing he proposed with a beautiful ring. You didn’t hesitate to say yes.

The next day, as you two were makin breakfast, you asked how your father handled him asking for permission when H/n told you he never asked. It shocked you that H/n didn’t talk to Tommy first. You knew when it came to your father H/n was a little rebellious but this was different. Honestly, you were a bit upset he didn’t speak with Tommy first.

It hadn’t even been twenty four hours since your engagement and the two of you were thrown into a fight. A minor one but a fight nonetheless. He didn’t see why it mattered seeing as the two of you were getting married with or without his permission. You argued that it wasn’t his permission you were looking for but your blessing. H/n didn’t understand just how close you and Tommy are but you wished he would at least respect it.

Eventually, he apologized when he finally noticed just how important Tommy’s approval meant to you. You promised H/n that you would marry him no matter what but keeping it from your father was not an option. H/n promised to talk to him.

A few days passed and then a week. H/n still didn’t talk to Tommy. You were fed up and decided to do it yourself. When you arrived at the Arrow House all you found were Lizzie and Ruby.

Ruby instantly spotted the ring. You desperately wanted to talk to Tommy first but since you weren’t getting passed you sister not Lizzie you conceded.

“So, when did he pop the question?” Ruby asked.

“About two weeks ago,” You answered, a large smile on your face. “He asked me on the beach under the stars,” Ruby swooned but Lizzie didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. You looked at her. You tensed noticing her looking behind you. Slowly, you turned around and saw your father standing there.

His eyes stare into your eyes and for the first time in your life you can’t figure out what he was thinking. He seemed emotionless but you couldn’t tell if the look in his eyes was anger or disappointment. His eyes glanced down at your hand, at your ring.

“Dad, I-” You didn’t get a chance to explain. He turned around and walked out of the house. You were shocked. He never did that to you. He always let you speak no matter what he was feeling. When you snapped out of it you quickly went after him but he was already in the car driving down the road. “Dad! Wait, please!” But he just keeps driving.

“He’ll come around,” Ruby tries to comfort but her words just go in one ear and right out the other.

For weeks your father avoided you like the plague. You walked into a room, he walked out. You tried to talk, he talked over you. You tried to get his attention, he ignored you. You tried for over a month before deciding to give him some space and focus on planning your wedding.

With the help of Ada, Ruby, Polly, and Esme you planned the wedding. Every day you got a step closer to the date. Every day you got more excited. Yet one thing continued to dampen your mood.

“Y/n, come in,” Esme greets, stepping aside to let you into her home.

“Is John here? I want to talk to him,” You say, fiddling with your fingers nervously. Esme smiles kindly and nods.

“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll fetch him,” She suggests before disappearing into the house. You walk into the parlor. You smile and play with your cousins for a bit before John finally joins you.

“I wanted to ask you something,” You say after he shoos the kids away. He gives you his attention. You take in a deep breath as tears mist over your eyes. He looks more concerned by the second. “I was wondering if you... would walk me down the aisle,” John frowns his eyebrows.

“You want me?” He asks, shocked. “What about Tom-”

“He hasn’t spoken to me for months,” You snap, struggling to keep your tears from falling. “He can hardly look at me or stand to be in the same room. I think it’s safe to say he’s not coming,” You try to sound angry but curse silently when your voice grows more shaky. John sighs.

“Come here, sweetheart,” He opens his arms and you quickly close the distance between the two of you. He holds you tightly as you cry in his chest. “Tommy’s being a right arse at the moment, everyone knows that,” He mutters. “But nothing in the world is going to stop him from walking you down that aisle,”

“H/n being at the end of it might,” You mutter. John laughs quietly.

“Love, if Tommy really hated H/n, he would be dead by now,” John says truthfully. You see the logic in his statement but it hardly lifts your spirits.

“The wedding is in two weeks,” You whisper. “He hasn’t budged yet,”

“I want you to do something for me,” John says, pulling back just enough to look at your face and wipe your tears. “I want you to think through your entire life and tell me a time where you didn’t get your way with Tommy,” John challenges. “I’m not even going to wait because it never bloody happened,” You smile a bit. “Now, this has been the longest you’ve had to wait for him to come around but trust me, he is incapable of not doing what you want,”

“Will you still be on standby?” You ask him. He smirks and kisses your forehead.

“Of course,” He whispers. “Bloody hell, has anyone said no to you before?” He asks, smirking as he steps away from you.

“What can I say? I’m everyone’s sweetheart,” You smile. John rolls his eyes and offers for you to stay for dinner, which you accept.

When you returned home you noticed H/n was home as well. You had moved out of Arrow house before the engagement, something your father strongly disagreed with.

When you walked inside, H/n was waiting up for you. You hadn’t meant to be home so late. It’s just when you’re with John and his kids they just make the time fly by. Luckily, H/n didn’t seem upset just tired.

“Come here,” He mutters, opening his arms. You smile and settle in his lap enjoying the feeling of his thick arms wrapped around your body. “Were you at Arrow House?” He asks.

“No, I went to see Uncle John,” You tell him. He hums curiously. “I wanted to ask if he’d walk me down the aisle,” You whisper. H/n holds you tighter.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” He whispers to you. “I shouldn’t have proposed without asking for his blessing or at least mentioning it to him,”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” You grumbled before sighing. “But this is much more than that. Something else is bothering him,”

“You’re his precious girl, he’ll talk eventually,” He reassures you. You don’t respond, you simply cuddle deeper into his embrace.

A week passed. You had five days until your wedding. You woke up excited as you daydreamed about the day. However, your happiness didn’t last.

BRITIAN AT WAR WITH GERMANY

Your father and uncles had fought in the first war. The supposed ‘war to end all wars’. Now, only a short few years later there was another war. A war the next generation would fight. A war your H/n volunteered to join.

You were in the kitchen cleaning up. You were doing everything you could to keep buys. Britain was officially at war and you were terrified. You knew everything was going to change. Deep down you knew it would happen but it didn’t register until he was right in front of you.

“When do you leave?” You whisper, desperately trying to stay together as you look at H/n. He was in his uniform with papers in his hand.

“Thursday,” H/n hesitantly whispers. You close your eyes and hang your head. Not only was your soon-to-be husband going off to fight this war but he was leaving before your wedding. On top of that, you only had two more days with him.

“Why do you have to leave?” You whimpered. He doesn’t answer. He just closes the gap between the two of you and pulls you into a tight hug. He hugged you as if he could single handedly keep you from falling apart.

“I will come back to you, Y/n Shelby,” He states firmly. “Heaven nor hell will keep me from you, you have me word,”

“I love you,” You whisper, clinging to him. He pulls back just enough to tilt your head up to his lips. He doesn’t verbally respond but he tries to pour all his love and determination to return to you in the breathtaking kiss.

You cling to him for as long as you can but eventually have to let him go. While he didn’t leave until Thursday he had much to get done before then. He promised he would be back in a few hours but you didn’t want to be alone.

The first thing you did was go to Polly. You froze when you saw her drying her cheeks. Finn had volunteered as well. Together you both cried.

Finn might have technically been your uncle but he was more of a brother. There was only a few years difference between the two of you. Polly had raised you both. You hated that you could possibly not only lose H/n but Finn as well.

Luckily Charlie was still too young to join but only for another year. You had no doubt that he would join up the first chance he got. He’s Tommy’s son. Neither of them were good at backing down.

When you left Polly you went to Arrow House. You were done. You were done with your father’s stubbornness. You were done with his silence and his judgmental stares. He could be mad about the wedding all he wanted but you needed him to come back to you.

“Did H/n..?” Lizzie’s voice dissipates. She didn’t want to finish the question and she didn’t have too. You just nod and accept her comforting hug. You’ve cried the majority of the day and knew you weren’t done yet. You knew the second you went face to face with Tommy you’d fall apart all over again.

“Where is he?” You ask.

“In his office,” Lizzie says knowing exactly who you were wanting. “Most likely on his second bottle by now,” You sighed, rubbing your face tiredly. “I’ll make some tea,” You send her a smile and a nod.

You don’t even bother to knock, you rarely did. There wasn’t a room you knew about that you weren’t welcome into. Inside you found your father slouched in his chair with a full glass in his hands. He doesn’t bother to look at you. You don’t even know if he registers your presence.

“I don’t know what you’re so mad at me about,” You began. Your voice sounded strong and you hoped it stayed that way. “Yes, H/n asked me to marry him. No, I didn’t know at the time that he didn’t talk to you but get over it. You haven’t made his time in this family easy, no wonder he doesn’t want to talk to you.

“When you found out you found out too soon. I was there to talk to you about it but Ruby and Lizzie saw me first. This wasn’t something I wanted to keep from you, I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry,” You whisper. Hope fills you a bit when he glances at you in the corner of his eye. “I know something else is bothering you but I don’t know what it is and I need you to work it out some how because I need you, dad,” You whimper.

He finally looks at you.

“These last few months have been so hard without you and now H/n is going off to war, I’m not sure if I’m even going to get married, and you still won’t fucking talk to me!” You shouted but the tears in your eyes betrays your anger. “I’m scared out of my mind I’m going to lose H/n, that I’m going to lose Finn... That I already lost you,” A few tears fall down your face. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, please forgive me because I need you so fucking back,”

By the end you were close to sobbing and falling to you knees. You sobbed but you never fell. Tommy was out of his seat and was wrapping his arms around you before your knees could give away.

He leads you to the couch and sits down. You curl into his chest like you used to do when you were younger. He hums quietly and rocks you.

“You didn’t lose me, darling girl,” He whispers to you. “I’m so sorry for the way I’ve acted. I should have never treated you like I have. No, I don’t like H/n but not because of who he is but because he’s taking my little girl from me,” You tilt your head to look at him. “For nearly 26 years you have been the center of my world,” He whispers quietly. “Through everything, you have been the most important constant in my life. There were many times you were my only source of happiness, my only will to live,” He admits. “I’m terrified of what I’ll do without you,”

“You’ll never be without me,” You whisper to him. “I live ten minutes away and you’ll still see me daily whether H/n likes it or not,” Tommy smiles a bit. “And maybe when the war is over you’ll have more mini me’s running around,” Tommy scowls at the thought of the process of making children rather than the thought of the actual kids.

“You’re happy with him?” You nod. “You love him and he loves you?” You nod again. “Has he hurt you?” You shake your head. He sighs, slightly frustrated with the lack of reason to murder H/n. Not that he really needed a reason but he knew if he did he would hurt you. He’s already hurt you enough as it is. “Then you have my blessing,” You smile at him.

“He leaves before the wedding,” You whisper. He shrugs.

“So, move the wedding up,” He says nonchalantly.

“How are we going to set everything up before Thursday?” You ask. He smirks.

“You don’t worry about a thing,” He kisses your forehead. “Let me call Ada, Pol, and Esme. They’ll help you get ready and I’ll worry about the rest,”

“You avoided this wedding the entire time, now you’re going to plan in within a few hours?” You ask.

“I’m Thomas Shelby,” He said as if it were the cure to all diseases. “Up you get,” He gently pushes you out of his lap. “No worrying,” He points at you before kissing your forehead again.

“Who’s going to want to celebrate at a time like this?” You ask before he leaves. He turns toward you and smiles softly.

“Right now is the perfect time to celebrate a moment like this,” Tommy tells you. You can see the honesty in his eyes and can tell he’s briefly reliving the past. You hate that his past is always haunting him and you pray that you’ll be able to help H/s if... when he comes back to you. “Relax, get ready, and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

It didn’t take long for Ada, Polly and Esme to show up. Polly had your dress and Ada had your accessories. The three of them with Lizzie and Ruby helped you get ready for the wedding.

As you got ready, Tommy went to your home where he found H/n just returning. It was obvious that he was surprised to see Tommy but he invited his future in-law inside nonetheless.

“I was a few years younger than you when I was shipped off to France,” Tommy explained to him. “When I returned I wasn’t the same. Nobody who goes through what we went through, what you will go through, returns the same,” Tommy warns. “Y/n was five or six when I got back. She helped give me a reason to keep waking up, to keep moving. When you come back, you’ll need someone that will be able to anchor you into the present. Don’t push people away, especially Y/n... She won’t let you,” Tommy advises with a soft smile as he thinks about you.

“I won’t,” H/s vows.

“You say that now but I promise it’ll be very tempting when you return,” Tommy says. Casually, Tommy walks closer. “Everyone that returns deals with the past differently. I won’t judge you for the drinks you’ll have or even the drugs you may take,” Tommy shrugs. “But if you come back and you turn violent again Y/n at any point. If you so much as hurt her one time, I will personally dig your grave and put you in it,” Tommy promises. “You will come back, you’ll deal with it however you can, and you’ll take care of Y/n and the family you’ll have. If you can’t do that, don’t marry her and walk away now.”

“I love you daughter. I want her happy and I’ll give my life to keep her safe,” H/s vows.

“Good,” Tommy nods. “That’s my little girl. Her happiness is everything to me. You give me one reason to kill you and I promise you and whatever god is out there that I will take that chance,”

“Understood,” H/n slowly nods.

“Good,” Tommy nods again. “Well, let’s get going, you’re getting married in a few hours,” Tommy says walking toward the door. He pulls out a cigarette and begins to light it.

“I am?” H/n calls out confused. Tommy just keeps walking and H/n jogs to catch up.

A few hours later, John and Arthur show up to collect the women.

“Your chariot awaits madam,” Arthur announces loudly. You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he leads you to the car. John winks at you playfully.

“Told you he’d come around,” John teased.

“Should have cried in front of him sooner, that usually does the trick,” You joke back. John grins wider and kisses your head.

“Alright! Let’s get a move on, we’ve got a wedding to get too!” Arthur hollers. When you arrive where the rest of the gypsies and Peaky Blinders are, they cheer for your arrival.

Tommy greets you at the car looking handsome as ever.

“I hope I’m still allowed to walk you down,” He mutters helping you out of the car.

“Of course,” You smile leaning into him. He kisses your head and leads you toward the aisle. At the end you find H/s standing there looking breathtaking. “I’m scared,” You whisper.

“That’s alright,” He promises, slowly walking you toward your future husband. “There’s going to be moment where you’re scared but there will never be a moment where you’re alone,” He tells you. You tighten your arm around his. “These last few months will never happen again,” He vows. “I’ll be there anytime and every time you need me,”

“I know,” You whisper.

When you reach the end, Tommy turns toward you. You smile up at him. He gently cups the side of your face.

“I love you,” He whispers, gently kissing your forehead. His lips linger as he remembers the day you were born, the day he left and came back from the war. He remembered every moment he shared with you. He hated that future memories would be shared with H/n but as long as you were there he wouldn’t mind.

“I love you too,” You whisper back, basking in the warmth and safety of his embrace for a moment longer. Tommy hesitantly steps back. You both share a smile before he hands you off to your soon-to-be husband.

#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Tommy x Reader #x daughter!reader #Shelby #Shelby!reader #John Shelby #Arthur Shelby #Finn Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Polly #Ada Shelby #x fem!reader #x female reader #x female!reader #request #tommy shelby x reader #tommy x daughter!reader #tommy shelby x daughter!reader

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thepremedthatwrites · 3 years

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Insufferable

request: Hi lovely, can you do Peter pevensie x reader imagine, please? The reader meets Pevensies in Narnia, but from the beginning she and Peter can't get along together, lots of arguments, while secretly and slowly developing feelings towards each other they don't want to admit, lot of sexual tension before smth happens but eventually they'll end up together. you can include some smut stuff. Thanks xx

hi, so i was gone for a while sorry about that haha but now school is done for the year so i can focus on writing more also this is going to be a multi part story cause it’s enemies to lovers

part 2 | part 3

A soft breeze brushed my face as my eyes fluttered open. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as I turned to where my bedroom window should have been. Instead, a large bookshelf filled with a myriad of leather bound books was there. The confusion grew as I took in my surroundings. Where my nightstand should have stood was a trunk. My dark blue comforter was now a deep maroon. My sheets felt softer than they ever were. As I ran a hand over them, I realized they were silk.

“You’re up,” a voice said. I jumped, my head snapping in the direction where the voice came from. A tall, blond man sat in an armchair across the room. “Lucy found you laying in the meadows. I carried you here. I should fetch you a maid. You look like a mess.” He spoke quickly, not giving me any time to interject until he was finished.

“Where am I?” I asked, choosing to ignore the man’s last comments about me.

“Narnia,” the man said. He stepped closer to me and as he approached, the light from the lantern on the nightstand illuminated him. On top of his head sat a golden crown decorated with jewels. He had good bone structure, his jawline strong and sharp. His sparkling blue eyes studied me.

“I’m being serious,” I said, crossing my arms. I wasn’t wearing a bra and the shirt I was wearing did not offer much coverage concerning my breasts. The man pulled his full lips into a smirk.

“And so am I.” I took a deep breath, not wanting to start a fight with the man who seemed to have some power if his crown was any indication.

“Please just tell me where I am. I have a very important presentation for school tomorrow and I cannot be wasting time sitting here.”

“You’re from Earth, aren’t you,” he said, the smirk still on his face as he sat down on the bed.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I am.”

“I hate to break it to you, darling, but you aren’t on Earth anymore.”

“I seriously don’t have time for this. If you don’t tell me where I am, I’ll have to call the police.” I started searching for my cell phone which had been tossed somewhere onto my bed before I fell asleep. My hands moved the sheets around, my eyes frantically looking for the familiar rectangular shape of my phone.

“I already told you where you are,” the man said, laughing at me. “You are in Narnia.”

I let out a huff as I gave up my fruitless search. “Alright fine, whatever. I’m in Narnia. How do I get back to Earth?”

“How would I know?” I wanted to bury my face into the pillow and scream. Was he being serious?

“If you won’t be of any help, you can leave.”

“I’m afraid not, darling. You see, I’m the high king here which means I have to make sure you aren’t a threat to my nation.” I let out an incredulous laugh.

“Who let you be king?”

“High king, actually.”

“King, high king, whatever. You most certainly aren’t acting like any sound ruler right now.”

“Would you prefer I tied you up and interrogated you?” I bit back my response. I wasn’t sure if he would actually do that if I weren’t careful enough.

“Okay fine. What must you know in order to determine that I am not a threat to your precious nation?”

“Well first, you could be a bit more respectful. You are talking to the high king after all. Second, tell me your name.”

“I was told not to tell my name to strangers.”

“I’m hurt, don’t you trust me?” The man feigned a look of betrayal as I stayed silent, narrowing my (e/c) eyes at him. “Okay fine, I’ll go first. My name is High King Peter the Magnificent, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of the Lone Islands.”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“Now that you know my name, will you tell me yours?”

“Okay, fine,” I sighed. “My name is (y/n). Happy now?” King Peter smiled, nodding his head slowly.

“Very good, (y/n). My second question is how did you find your way to Narnia?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, my voice softer as I tried to rack my brain for any memory of how I could’ve ended up here. “All I remember is falling asleep in my bed and then waking up here.”

“Interesting,” the king said, almost more to himself than to me. “Well, I’m not sure how you got here or how we can get you back but I’m sure Aslan would know.”

“Who’s Aslan?” I questioned. King Peter looked at me, the ghost of a smile on his face.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Perhaps I’ll have Lucy explain that to you.”

“Who is Lucy?”

“My sister. You’ll meet her tomorrow along with all the others. But now, you should sleep. It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow (y/n).” He walked over to the large mahogany doors.

“Good night, Your Majesty. It was a pleasure talking with you.”

“You should drop that sarcastic tone if you want to survive here,” King Peter said as he started to open the door.

“Is that a threat?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“Only if you want it to be.” And with that, he left the room, closing the door behind him. I buried myself deep into the covers, squeezing my eyes closed. Maybe when I woke up, I’d be back in my bedroom. That’s what I hoped. Instead, I tossed and turned in the sheets. Although they were of the softest material imaginable, I couldn’t fall asleep. I let out a sigh, admitting defeat before getting out of the bed. I looked around the room, spotting a wardrobe in the corner. I pulled open the door to see a white robe, along with a few other articles of clothing. I grabbed the robe, wrapping it around my body before opening the door.

The door opened to a hallway, torches lighting the way. The cool stone pressing against my feet as I walked along the corridor. Every now and then I would pass a few doors. All of them were always tightly shut. I wasn’t sure where I was going and I was definitely not sure of how to get back to the room I had been in before. That didn’t matter to me. I just needed to clear my head. The hallways I was walking in seemed to be reaching an end, two large wooden doors waiting for me. The right one was slightly ajar, candlelight spilling from behind it.

I crept towards the doors. I peeped in to see shelves upon shelves of books. I felt my mouth fall slightly open as I cautiously walked into the room. The shelves reached up to the tall ceiling. In the middle of the ceiling was a large glass dome where the full moon was visible. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice said. I tore my eyes from the moon to see a man sitting in an armchair near a fireplace, a brown book in his hand.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” I said quickly. An amused smile formed on his face.

“Don’t be. You must be the girl Lucy found in the meadows.”

“Apparently I am,” I said while slowly walking towards the man. “May I?” I asked, motioning to the empty seat across from him.

“Of course.” I quickly sat down, fidgeting with my hands.

“Am I truly in Narnia?” I asked.

“Trust me, if Peter was lying you would know. He is a horrible liar.” I couldn’t help but smile.

“I just never heard of Narnia before.”

“Most people from Earth haven’t.”

“I feel like I should do my research on the place. I don’t want to offend anyone.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my mind immediately flashed to my interaction with Peter. “Well, not offend anyone else, I mean.”

“I’m guessing Peter wasn’t the most welcoming.”

“I don’t know. There was just something about the way he talked to me that was infuriating. It was like he was amused by me. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Well, I apologize for my brother’s actions.”

“You’re his brother?” The man nodded. “Does that mean you’re a king too?” He nodded again. Great, I’ve met two royals and both meetings had been in my pajamas.

“King Edmund, that’s me.”

“Why isn’t your title long like your brothers?”

“Oh it is, I just don’t like stroking myself.” I let out a chuckle, King Edmund joining in. “You’ll get to meet Susan and Lucy tomorrow morning at breakfast.”

“Oh, I’m invited to dine with the royals?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Only if you choose to grace us with your presence.” I felt my lips tug into a smile.

“Of course, I couldn’t disappoint the kings and queens of Narnia.”

“How generous,” King Edmund replied, a matching smile on his face. “We should head to bed now. You don’t want to be sleeping at the dining table tomorrow.”

“Yes, we should,” I said, exhaustion finally hitting me as I got up.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I can show you, I have a feeling I know which room Peter put you in.” He got up from his seat, walking towards the doors with his book still in his hands. I quickly followed as he opened the door, holding it open for me. We walked down hallways that seemed somewhat familiar to me.

“How do you remember where to go?” I asked as we walked.

“I don’t. I just walk and hope I go to the right place.” I let out a soft laugh as we passed a door where guards stood. “I would use the guards as reference,” he continued, motioning towards the standing guards, “but they all look the same with that ridiculous face.” He mimicked the face of the guards, eyebrows furrowed, nose flared, and mouth twisted into a frown as they stayed focused on protecting whatever was in their room. “They look constipated all the time.” I let out another laugh, louder than the other. I immediately covered my mouth, hoping the noise didn’t disturb anyone. Edmund laughed at this, the sound of the door opening cutting him off.

King Peter stood in the doorway, sleep still clouding his eyes. “What are you doing, Ed?” he asked, before his eyes landed on me. “You both should be asleep.” His voice was sterner than before as his cold blue eyes focused on me.

“Don’t worry Pete. I was showing her back to her room, that’s all.”

“You two shouldn’t be alone together, lest someone believes you two to be partaking in a scandal.” My face warmed at his accusation.

“I’m sure my reputation isn’t going to be ruined by being seen with King Edmund,” I said.

“I wasn’t talking about you. Ed, you are a king. You shouldn’t be seen with any girl, especially a peasant.”

“I’m not a peasant.”

“Well, you certainly aren’t royalty.”

“So that makes me less than?’

“Technically, yes.”

“Well being royal doesn’t make you any more pleasant!”

“You should be thankful I’m letting you stay here. Unless you want to live on the streets.”

“At least the streets don’t have you.” I made my eyes meet his. My face felt like it was on fire as I narrowed my eyes. His jaw was clenched as his eyes stared down at me.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Edmund softly said, his hand wrapped around my arm. “And you, go to bed,” he added, looking at King Peter.

“Good night,” King Peter said roughly.

“Good night, your majesty,” I replied before mockingly curtseying. He turned around, slamming the door behind him.

Edmund and I walked on in silence for a moment. “Well that went nicely,” Edmund finally said as we neared a door.

“He truly is insufferable. Did you hear what he said? Calling me a peasant like I was worth nothing. The audacity!”

Edmund only nodded, a small smile on his face. “You should go to sleep before you get yourself kicked out by Pete.”

I let out a huff. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior tomorrow,” I promised as I opened the door. I was surprised to see it was the same room I had woken up in. “How did you know which room to take me to?”

“This is the room Peter has his most important guest stay in,” Edmund said, the smile still on his face.

#peter pevensie #high king peter #high king peter the magnificent #King Peter the Magnificent #peter pevensie fanfic #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie smut #peter pevensie x reader #peter x reader #Peter x Y/N #narnia #The Chronicles of Narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia imagine #narnia smut

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trampohlena · 3 years

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Okay, so after last night’s episode I would just like to say that Supercorp IS Endgame. I’d also like to point out the various reasons as to why Kara and Lena are not only soulmates but true twin flames.

For those reading this post who have never heard of the term twin flame: “A twin flame is your own soul, shared across what appears to be two physical beings. It’s one soul, split into two bodies.” -Google’s definition.

For those who are spiritually inclined and have a proclivity for indulging esoteric philosophies; Lena and Kara are ABSOLUTELY twin FUCKING flames 🔥🔥🔥!!

Here are the reasons why:

1. Their drastically different childhoods that resulted in remarkably similar trauma.

Both Kara and Lena have experienced great loss throughout their life. Both mourned the death of their parents, and life as they knew it, at a very early age. Both were shipped off to a foreign land, forced to leave behind everything they knew, in hopes for a brighter/safer future.

Albeit, Lena got the shorter end of the stick in regards to unconditional love, but both were given a second chance and a new start...and yet, they still never fit in, or felt like they truly belonged.

Although they individually have dealt with said trauma in different ways (Lena by pushing away those who try to get too close, and Kara by holding on tightly to those she holds dear) both of their actions are motivated by the same subconscious fear that they HAVE never and WILL never TRULY belong. All while yearning for a sense of “home”.

2. They are opposite reflections of each other; true “mirror souls”, if you will.

Physically, aesthetically, economically, and emotionally—they are complete “mirrors” of one another.

Kara is strong, physically powerful, cut from marble, all hard edges and sharp lines—except for her face. Lena is clearly not as physically powerful, she is soft, all curves, and exudes the grace of the Devine feminine energy—except for her face, which is hard edges and sharp jaw lines. You see what I’m saying?

Aesthetically and economically go hand in hand of course. Lena’s exorbitant wealth is evident in her high-end designer appearance; whereas Kara’s aesthetic is more humble and grounded, and prioritizes comfort over “fashion”. (Let’s admit it. Some of Kara’s fashion choices have been questionable. She clearly rocks the chinos and button-downs better than anything else in that eclectic closet of hers she refuses to come out of 😏)

Emotionally...oh honey. Do I need to say more? I won’t say much but I will say this: Kara is the sun and Lena is the moon. They compliment each other in a way that ensures the world keeps turning.

3. Their individual strengths are the other’s individual weakness and vice versa.

Goes along with the aforementioned “opposite reflection” point above but I’ll expand a bit further in regards to their specific personality traits.

Lena is predominately analytically driven, whereas Kara is emotionally driven. Lena is good in crowds, Kara is not (overwhelmed). Lena is introverted, Kara is extroverted. Lena is detail oriented and has the memory of an elephant, Kara is clumsy and as forgetful as a Pisces (but hey, she has a lot on her plate and barely any free time to balance it). Lena eats like a rabbit-bird-hybrid and Kara eats like a garbage disposal. Kara loves giving and receiving hugs and other forms of physical affection whereas Lena does not (UNLESS it’s from Kara, of course). Etc. Etc. you get the picture.

4. Now this one is the DEAD GIVEAWAY. Undeniable, irrefutable PROOF that Lena and Kara are twin flames.

They are LITERALLY completing what is know as the Twin Flame Journey or the Twin Flame Union.

The stages of Twin Flame Union are roughly as follows:

1. Yearning for “the one”. I think every human being that believes in love experiences this whether it’s throughout their entire life, or only their adult life until they meet this person but yeah. You get it. Kara has always wanted that “Wapow!” moment.

2. Glimpsing/meeting “the one”. Whether it’s only for a short moment, an extended meeting, or perhaps merely locking eyes with them as you pass each other by...you feel immediately connected. There is an instant soul recognition when meeting them, so much so that you could have sworn you’ve met them before or that it’s as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

Remember when Kara met Lena? And she was gaga-eyed over Lena? Or when Lena felt so comfortable around a new acquaintance that she granted an almost stranger unbridled access to her office? Or how about when Red Daughter flew to America (the country she was taught to hate), with no recollection/memories of Kara’s relationship with Lena (again, the woman she was taught to hate), all because she felt PULLED to do so. And then when she did meet Lena she looked at her and practically drooled over her as if Lena was a double XL cheeseburger with extra special sauce from Big Belly Burger? Like, biiiitch 👀

3. Falling in love. Need I say more? Fine, again, I will. You CANNOT tell me that there is no way in hell that these two morons are anything BUT in love with each other. That’s a lot of double negatives and I appplogize so let me reiterate for clarification: THEY ARE IN LOVE AND YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND!

And at this point is it so freaking BEYOND platonic love, the show cannot explain it away or sweep it under the “just close friends” rug. No. Kara used her Fifth Dimensional Wish (she literally could have wished her entire planet didn’t explode) and she said “make Lena not mad at me, I’m sad 😔” 👀. Mmmkay. Not to mention Lena picking Supergirl over Jack, her former lover. Or the plethora of other times Lena chose Kara/Supergirl over everyone else she knew. Mmkay.

4. The fairytale relationship/friendship. Lena has finally found someone she can depend on, be vulnerable with, support her without judgement, trust with her life etc. and Kara has finally found a true best friend, not her sister, not Kenny who she didn’t realize was her best friend till after he passed? And now he’s not dead?? But her one true best friend that she felt she didn’t need to be neither Supergirl, nor Kara Danvers, but rather Kara Zor-El around (despite Lena not knowing that little tidbit of information).

They were each other’s best friend. Each other’s person. They were happy.

5. Outer Turmoil and Inner Purging—Supergirl and Lena fight. Lena still does not know that Kara is indeed Supergirl and does not pick up on the brewing tension between herself and Kara.

Kara of course is riddled with guilt and her relationship with Lena becomes strained. This outer turmoil creates inner purging by bringing out negative traits in each other. I.E. Lena hiding kryptonite and also Kara asking James to spy on her. Shit gets messy but they still try to make it work.

6. The Runner and the Chaser/Separation Stage—Tensions mount between the two and Lena FINALLY learns about Kara’s secret. And she has a choice to make. So what does she do? She runs. Not physically but emotionally. She completely withdraws from not only Kara and their friends but also withdraws from herself.

She literally experiences cognitive dissonance and becomes someone she is not. Someone other people made her believe she was on the inside, even though Kara knows that it isn’t. And so, Kara chases her.

Lena becomes the runner and Kara becomes the chaser as they navigate this separation stage.

Continuously running and continuously chasing.

7. The Surrender and dissolution stage—they’re fucking done. They’re tired. They’re exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally after all the bullshit they put each other through as well as all the bullshit Lex and the Phantom Zone put them through.

They come to an impasse in regards to Lex and realize the only way to defeat him is to work together, as a team. (El Mayarah anyone?)

They surrender to their emotions and to each other as their egos dissolve and their souls expand after having learned invaluable life lessons. The major one being: THEY CANNOT LIVE HAPPILY WITHOUT EACH OTHER!

8. The last stage that we have yet to see but we fucking better or else I’m gonna January 6 the CW studio building—“Oneness”.

This time, I’m not gonna say more.

So, in conclusion: Supercorp is Endgame because Lena Luthor and Kara Zor-El Danvers are the literal definition of a twin flame, soulmate connection. They are the same soul, manifested in two physical forms, for the sole purpose of expanding their soul’s consciousness.

They deserve to be happy, they deserve to be together. Not only does their union parallel some of the greatest love stories throughout history, i.e. Romeo and Juliet, Darcy and Bennet, Superman and Lois (duh) it would also break the curse of generational karma and illustrate to anybody who watches the show that the only person who defines who you are is YOU. Not a name, not a legacy, not society’s expectations, YOU. And most importantly of ALL...it would showcase that love truly does conquer all.

I rest my case.

TPTB, make Supercorp Endgame or kick rocks ✌️😘

Sincerely,

An empassioned fan with way too much time on her hands.

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #welcome back kara #soulmate #twin flames #the cw

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sailorshadzter · 3 years

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a random one shot in which i twist the entire plot of game of thrones just because i can.

inspired by the prompt: a kiss to your lover's knuckle before a dance.

dont ask me how THIS came from that, it just did LOL

He finds her among the others, dressed in a silk gown of sapphire, made from a bolt of fabric he'd left in her rooms several weeks before. She's laughing, rosy lips curving as she pivots ever so slight, just enough that their eyes find each other's. Her laugh does not fade, but her eyes darken, pink tongue escaping to moisten those lips that only the night before had agonized him in the best of ways. "Your grace," Robb Stark says as he approaches, bowing low before Jon as he falls into place before them. She on the other hand does not move, not at first, smiling as if she holds onto a secret before she sinks into a curtsy, though she never once pulls her eyes from his face.

The Stark siblings have been South for nearly six months now, having arrived at the start of the new year. It was mostly out of peace between their kingdoms- once, their fathers had been at war- now, the sons have taken over and such a war had not been theirs to fight. Cousins by blood, neither Jon nor Robb had wished to shed another drop of family blood. And truth be told, neither had their fragile, broken nations. And so it was peace that was brokered, easily at that, and both Robb, the King in the North, and his sister and heir, Sansa, had come to King's Landing as Jon's honored guests.

"I thought I might dance with the lady," Jon says, beckoning towards Sansa who at least has the grace to blush. Robb casts a glance towards her and then grins as he turns back to Jon. Nodding with approval, he bows again before he makes his way through the crowd, only stopping when he catches sight of the lovely Margaery Tyrell who shines in pale gold damask, a single red rose tucked into the high coils of her hair. Reaching for her hand, he brings it close to his lips, brushing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Such a gesture sends shivers down her spine. "You look beautiful," he says as the music begins again, a slower tune that brings them closer together. They're both aware of the eyes that watch them, the King and the heir to the North, though they pay little mind of any of them watching. Her hand is small and warm in his, while her other hand dares to brush across the nape of his neck. That is what matters, that feeling her touch gives him. "That dress is most becoming."

She laughs, soft and twinkling, and once again those lips curve with a smile. "It is only because of this fine silk," she insists, though even she has been unable to do little else but admire the gown she's crafted for this night. Though quite unlike the styles of the North, she has retained some of her roots, for her red hair remains woven into braids, although it shimmers with a gem covered netting gifted to her by Margaery. That and the pendant she wears around her neck was stamped with her House sigil, worn once by her own father.

He twirls her out and then back in, closer than ever before, though she's uncertain as to how they could ever be closer. But then she snickers, recalling in fact, they could be much closer. As if Jon senses what she's thinking, it's his turn to chuckle, dipping his head down low, so close that his breath tickles her ear as he whispers what he's thought many times that evening. "I do wonder what it looks like upon the floor of my chamber, though." She blushes deep to the core of her hair, but she's breathless all the same. She likes it and he knows it. He loves that she likes it, truthfully.

Sansa Stark had come to King's Landing after a dark, somber period in her life. Once the spoiled, pampered princess of the North, she had been left alone in Winterfell with her youngest siblings, protected by the bitter cold and a small armed force. While her father had been in King's Landing, plotting against Jon's father, Rhaegar Targaryen, her mother had been with Robb on their way to join Ned in the South. What could not protect Sansa nor her siblings was the traitor Bolton House, that swept in upon hearing of Ned's death in battle and took Winterfell for themselves. Sansa was locked away in chambers and never again saw her siblings- Arya lost to the Northern wilderness, the boys certainly smothered in their chambers while they slept.

When Jon's father and Robert Baratheon was found dead after the last fight in what would now be called Robert's Rebellion- he and Robb met on the battlefield. It was Jon who spoke of peace and Robb who asked for nothing but to have help saving his sister from the unspeakable suffering she endured while held prisoner by Ramsay, the bastard born son of Roose Bolton. And save Sansa they had. Riding in at the head of an army, Robb and Jon swooped in and took Winterfell back in the name of House Stark.

Back then, she had worn her black gowns as armor, keeping to herself for the first few weeks of their arrival. Jon had assigned to her a few handmaidens and one in particular, Shae, certainly had found her place as Sansa's confidante. And then there was Margaery Tyrell, the beautiful and wealthy heiress to the Tyrell family. She had been the first to bring Sansa from her shell, the first person Jon had seen make her smile in the first six weeks of her stay. And then... One day... One day she had found him, all alone, in the quietest corner of the massive gardens. She had blushed, stammering an apology, turning to go before Jon could stop her. Two weeks later, they met again in similar fashion, though this time it had been Jon who happened upon her. They met here among the flowers nearly every day after that, hidden from prying eyes by rose bushes and fauna of the brightest green, side by side on the small stone bench.

That simple stone bench had been the place of their first kiss, a soft kiss that left him tingling long after she'd gone. Jon can't really remember when he'd begun to realize the depth of his feelings, but it was sometime between her falling in love with Ghost and Ghost with her, he really never could figure out which came first. But in truth, seeing her sink to the floor in his chambers to hug his neck, or to find the wolf asleep in her bed was all he'd needed to know the truth of how he felt. He loved her. He loved her beyond anything else in his entire life.

"The song is over..." It's her whispering and he jolts back to reality, realizing that indeed the song has ended and they still yet stand together. Springing apart, Jon offers her a most regal bow, his hand reaching for hers as he had done at the beginning. "Jon..." She calls him by name as the music strikes up another tune, this one quicker, though neither of them are thinking of dancing now.

"Meet me, in our usual spot," he murmurs over her knuckles before he drops her hand and disappears into the crowd. Sansa remains where she stands for several long moments more, her hand still yet warm where his lips had touched.

[ x x x ]

He hears her footsteps as she approaches.

There on the stone bench, he waits in silence for her, knowing without a doubt that she would come. She does not hesitate as she once might have, rather she sinks into her place at his side, silk skirts rustling with her movements. From above, the clouds shift, exposing her to the moon's pale light- though he cannot believe it, she's even far more beautiful with moonlight woven into her hair. He swallows, reaching out, hesitantly, to trace the length of her jaw with trembling fingers. "Jon..." Once again she calls him by his name and her hand reaches up, taking hold of his. This alone is enough to comfort him, to give him a sense of courage he's not even felt in battle before.

"Marry me," he says these words simply, without the hesitation from moment's before. She blinks, staring at him as if she's not heard him correctly. Before she can say a word, he's falling down to a knee before her, there on the stone bench, still yet clutching her hand. "Marry me, Sansa," he goes on, smiling up at her, those blue eyes wide in her ivory features. "It is the one thing in this life I have ever wanted-" to be a prince and then a king? It was not his first choice in life, but if he was going to do it... He wanted it to be with a woman he truly loved at his side. And despite the short time he's known her, he knows there can be no other. That there would never be another. This was not a king asking a princess, a noble, it was a man asking a woman. Nothing more, nothing less.

She cannot believe him when he speaks and yet... His dark eyed stare is so poignant, his words so very heartfelt. And truth be told, her her skips a beat at the realization of what he's asked of her. To marry him... To be his wife... Was it not what she dreamed of, if only in the privacy of her own mind? There is a warmth spreading through her and she finds herself to be nodding, over and over again nodding as she smiles brighter than she's ever smiled in all of her life. And then finally... She says what he's been waiting for.

"Yes."

When he rises up, she rises along with him, her heart singing as his hands slide into place against her cheeks. He could have spent forever right there in those gardens with her, if only time would allow. But he knows soon they must return to the ball and then to a new life they would build for themselves.

A happy world, a perfect world.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #actuallyjonsa #i like exploring jon being raised as heir in kings landing #i could do soo much with this plot line HOLY SHIT #b ut i am not writing another multi chapter anything #im not im not im not #*laughs in denial*#my writing #i wrote this

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mysticalrambling · 3 years

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Love Conquers All (The Originals)

Epilogue

(Y/N) means your name and (Y/LN) means your last name.

Warnings: none. Angst and fluff all the way.

Summary: Dad!Klaus. (Y/N) finds out that you are pregnant and runs away from Klaus. After five years of avoiding him, Freya discovers your secret and it will all be revealed in time. At last, love will conquer all.

._._._._.

“Hope, you need to be really good.” There was a very good chance that your hyper active daughter will get distracted in the end. But if this plan works then it would be one of the best day of your lives.

Your first daughter was an accident (no regrets there) but after you married the love of your life, you wanted to expand your family. Both of you have been trying from the past year but were met with disappointment at the end of every month. This was going to be so much different from your first pregnancy because your partner will be by your side this time.

“Love, where are you?” Calling out from the hallway, you could hear Klaus’s footsteps coming towards you.

“Hope, I am going to distract your dad. Just remember your part please and finish your drawing quickly.” Intercepting your husband midway, you started talking to him about Hope’s upcoming play in her school and both of your participation at the ticket booth. Klaus protested because he found all the other parents annoying. The great Klaus Mikaelson had a reputation to uphold. But you just giggled quietly because you remembered him in a pink tiara acting as a princess with Hope just last night.

When you thought that enough time had passed by, you gently ushered Klaus in the room. “Surprise!” Your voice died down in your throat when you saw the startled face of your little munchkin smeared in yellow frosting.

“What is this? ‘E are pect?” The writing on the mini cupcakes was destroyed by the little devil perched on the coffee table.

“Hope! I told you I would give you the cupcakes afterwards,”

“Mommy, Mr Fluffs ate the icing. I told him not to.” She hid her hands behind her back and gave you her puppy dog eyes.

“What’s going on?” Klaus interjected before you became distracted by the argument.

“I will deal with you later but now show Daddy your card.” She slowly hopped off the table and extended her card that now had yellow imprints on it. Klaus always savored moments like these because he had missed a huge part of her life. And soon his little girl will transform in to a moody teenager who is too cool for her old man.

He recognised the three stick figures that were hastily drawn on the pink paper but there was another small one on the side of the paper.

“Who is the fourth one, baby?” He bent down to her level and tried to decipher the glittery mess.

“Read the card, daddy!” She pointed her chubby, little finger towards the end of the paper. As his eyes skimmed over the scribbled handwriting, a gasp escaped his soft lips. Written were the words, “I am going to be a big sister”.

“Is this-? You are-?” The Klaus Mikaelson was reduced to a sputtering mess and when he saw tears in your eyes, he immediately lifted you off the ground, “We are going to be parents again.” Klaus’s happiness knew no bounds and you both were just basking in each others presence.

Munching sounds from somewhere behind you took you out of your bubble. “Hope Andrea Mikaelson, stop eating the cupcakes!”

“It’s okay, (Y/N). Let her enjoy this moment as well.”

“She will get a sugar rush and I am not dealing with it.” Your pregnancy hormones were going haywire and you already knew that this baby will be a lot different from your elder daughter.

“Okay, darling. No more sweets for the whole week.” Picking his daughter up, he took her to get cleaned up and easily slipped in to his dad mode. This baby was going to be a new chapter in your lives and you were excited for it.

--------1 and a half year later--------

“Hope, stop trying to put glitter on your brother.” Klaus was running after his two munchkins but Hope had a mind of her own. She put a freezing spell on James and dumped the pink glitter on him. Little Jamie was terrified the instant he couldn’t move his chubby little feet. The nine month old let out a piercing wail and blasted her sister across the couch.

“What is happening here?” You came in the moment you heard your children crying on the top of their lungs. They both had been a handful from the very start and their powers are uncontrollable now. Sure, Freya is helping them rein their powers but it was not helping.

Klaus was rocking Hope gently in his arms while nursing the cut on her forehead. Immediately, you went to your sobbing infant and picked him up. The glitter transferred to your clothes as he clinged on to you like a Koala. “Hope, why would you do this?” You asked flustered.

“He destroyed my painting for Daddy.” Exclaiming it with tears flowing through her eyes, she laid her head on her father’s shoulder.

“Mistake.” Jamie hiccuped and you gently rubbed his back. Slowly, Hope’s cut healed and your husband let out a sigh of relief. He can not bear to see anything to happen to his family. One time, he went ballistic on Freya when James got stung by a wasp. She just shut him up with a sleeping spell and boy, was Klaus mad.

“Honey, give me Jamie. I’ll shower him while you both go change.” Klaus took charge of the situation because he knew that they were all going to be late for the fourth of July dinner at Kol’s house. He would rather send some alone time with his family but you insist on socialising.

“I have left out his red and blue onesie on the bed.” You called out after your two boys and a soft giggle was sent your way.

You all got ready with Hope wearing a blue white striped summer dress with her pink pumps and you in a maroon dress with intricate lacing. Klaus had opted for a simple white button down with khaki pants. And the casual look just made him more appealing.

The kids went in to the living room to play with their toys, the feud between them long forgotten. Klaus took you in his arms as you were giving a final touch to your makeup. He gazed at you through the mirror while you gently laid your head on his shoulder.

“I am so lucky to have you. You are my saving grace and thank you for the two little munchkins.”Klaus was truly thankful to have you in his life and the thousand years of misery has finally paid off.

“I am just as grateful for you, trust me.”

“I love you, baby and this all is going to stay the same.” Gently, he turned you around and pecked your lips.

“I love you too and is that a promise, Mr Mikaelson?”

“Always and Forever. Now, let’s get going.” You both went out and strapped the kids in to the car for the long 30 minutes ride.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

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A/N : This series has officially come to an end. Really enjoyed writing this. When I first came up with the plot I really didn’t wasn't sure if I wanted to complete it. Thank you to each one of you for giving your love and support to this series. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

P.S. If you want to send blurb requests based on the series (dad!Klaus) I'm more than eager to write so send me your ideas. I would love it❤️

Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._.

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ficsilike-reblogged · 3 years

Text

To Weep For The Sun

Summary: Argella Baratheon never wanted to become a lady-in-waiting to her cousin's, Rhaegar, betrothed. But then Elia Martell smiled at her and the world tilted.

Pairing: Elia Martell/Baratheon!Female Original Character, Oberyn Martell/Baratheon!Original Female Character

WARNINGS: sneaking around with the love of your life behind your husband’s back, Elia and her babies have the canon ending, sorry, maximum angst

Word Count: 9.6k (is anyone surprised?)

(Banner by bb @thesadvampire who would always let me scream and cry about Elia)

A/N: This story bounces between the 'past' (pre-Robert's Rebellion) and the 'present' (post Rebellion.) Please let me know if you have any questions.

Or read on Ao3 here!

Robert’s face was red and wet—redder still from where her hand had connected with his cheek. The clattering of armor, of Kingsguard dogs rushing to their new king’s aid from the woman who had just smacked him, barely registered in her ears.

“You are a monster.”

Argella remembered meeting the princess before the royal wedding. She was a Baratheon—a far off cousin of the Targaryen family tree and the only girl born to Steffon and Cassana Baratheon and Queen Rhaella had requested she become a lady-in-waiting to the new princess of the Seven Kingdoms. It was supposed to be an honor, many others had been vying for the position she was unceremoniously saddled with, but she only saw it as an inconvenience. King’s Landing smelled. It had none of the charms of Storm’s End and she hated how warm every day was—where were the storms to lull her to sleep? Or the sea breeze to cool her heated skin?

And she was completely prepared to bribe her new slew of handmaidens to make sure her chalice was always filled with sweet wine but then…

“Hello,” a soft voice said.

And the world tilted.

Elia was a quiet sort of woman, who had a soft laugh and a wicked wit she only voiced in chosen few. And her poor heart was already firmly planted in Elia’s delicate hands when the princess called her into her chambers, late at night, only a few moons after her engagement to Prince Rhaegar had been announced.

King’s Landing, it seemed, had been very lonely for both of them.

“But it is good to have friends. True friends.”

Argella’s breath stuttered in her lungs when Elia reached out to touch her hand, pressing her gentle fingers around hers and squeezed. “Yes. Friends.” The word was strangled in her throat. “I would be blessed to call you friend, Princess.”

Elia chuckled and tightened her hold. “We are already friends.”

Even as the Kingsguard pushed her down to her knees at the base of the Iron Throne, Argella would not stop hurling insults at her brother—the usurper.

But she did not care about the stupid throne or whose ass sat on the stupid metal chair.

She cared about Elia and her babies.

“Did your hurt pride truly rob you of your last shred of humanity?”

“Silence!” Robert roared. He waved his hand and the armored grips on her shoulders were removed. “You are my sister. I will not fight you-”

“Fight me! You coward! You could not bear to have little Lyanna be anyone else’s wife! You are a spoiled boy with a toy—so you broke it so no one else could play with it.”

“I am your king! You will-”

“I will not! You will listen to me. You have robbed three innocents of their lives for your stupid pride. Elia and her children were not a threat to you. They would have renounced any claim to the throne if you had asked. But you left them bloody and nearly unrecognizable,” she spat. “They were children—babies. And Elia was gentle and kind. And you killed them!”

“I know!” Robert yelled, his voice cracking and echoing in the hall. “Do you truly believe that I do not care-”

“I know you don’t! Because you sit there with a crown on your head and wine in your gut like a glutton. You will ruin this kingdom—you will ruin yourself even more than you have already—you have ruined me!”

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Argella found herself half-in-love with the Dornish Princess. She was kind and beautiful and clever and she was fond of whispering vulgar jokes into her ear when they were surrounded by other highborn noblemen who were preparing for the royal wedding in just a few moons’ time.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Argella murmured as they both pulled the blankets on Elia’s bed up to their chins in the dark room. Argella’s room was always too warm and, since she was the princess’ companion, it was blessedly common for the women to share a bed. After all, the companion was to tend to the princess’ every need at every hour she may need. “I think I’ve been waiting for you my entire life.”

Even in the dark, with the smallest sliver of moonlight filtering into the room, Argella watched a smile spread across Elia’s face. It was the sun—she was the sun.

And then Elia kissed her.

She wished she could say it looked like Elia was sleeping when she saw her next. But no. She had fought like a tigress against the hands of the Stranger but she was still ever so delicate. She had lost that fight.

“I’m sorry, my love. I am so sorry,” she whispered, her fingers just touching the ends of Elia’s hair, remembering how she used to braid it when Elia would be up late with her babies, nursing them or tending to their cries. It was always so soft under her fingers and Elia would smile at her over her shoulder whenever Argella tied off the ends. “I wish it were me. I wish it were me on this wretched table and you were still holding your babes close.” Tears tracked down her cheeks and splashed against Elia’s cooled skin. “Oh, my love. I am so sorry.”

The wedding was lavish, as it was bound to be for the Crown Prince and his bride.

Argella would be lying if she said it did not hurt to see Elia pledge her love and loyalty to Rhaegar. He did not deserve her. Rhaegar had been obsessed with prophecy since he was a boy and Argella wondered what he would do to Elia in pursuit of a fulfilled divination that was centuries old.

But she smiled at her Princess when she turned, holding Rhaegar’s hand, and was pronounced the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The Seven Kingdoms did not deserve her either.

“She shines brighter than any sun, does she not?”

Argella turned at the sound of the voice and smiled as she recognized who was speaking. Oberyn Martell. Elia’s younger brother. He was a dashing man, filled with charisma and charm—and a temper as bright as his smile.

“She does.” Argella wanted to say more. Wanted to say that the dragon prince would try to stifle her shine, that the cloying dirt of the capitol would try to warp her into another mindless drone, that the last night Elia had spent as an unmarried woman had been in her arms. But she didn’t. She only smiled at Oberyn and clapped along with the crowd as the newly married couple walked by, out into the sunlight.

“I wanted to name you Princess of Dragonstone—my heir.”

Argella turned at the sound of Robert’s voice, biting back a snarl. “I would refuse. Have you no shame?”

“I need you-”

“You’re marrying Cersei Lannister. She will provide you plenty of heirs, I’m sure. Just as many as your precious Lyanna would have, too. Or any other girl in the Seven Kingdoms.” Argella turned back to her trunk and placed the dress she had been folding on top of the others.

“It was not me who killed her.”

“No. But you might as well have. You started the rebellion. You marched on the capitol. Every little thing comes back to you and your hurt pride, brother. And for that, I will never forgive you.”

Argella watched Rhaegar dance with his new wife and tried not to scowl. Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions. Royal weddings even more so. But she wanted to rip her hair out when Rhaegar was cold with Elia time and time again during the festivities. It was his wedding—he had married the most beautiful woman in the world, the kindest, the most gentle. And he could barely muster a smile.

“May I steal you?”

Argella nearly startled at the question but laughed as she recognized Oberyn at her side. “As long as it is only for a dance, my prince. You know I must stay by your sister’s side.” She placed her hand in his and let him lead her out toward the other dancing couples. He held her close and she let his pleasurable scent of spice and citrus invade her senses as he led her through the steps of the familiar dance.

“Elia speaks highly of you, Lady Argella.”

“She is too kind. It is a joy to be at her side.”

They spoke easily for the next few songs and dances, and Argella knew she could have easily fallen to Oberyn’s teasing and magnetic charms. She could have chased his smiles and made herself stupid trying to earn his laughter and attention. He was a handsome man, a learned knight, with worldly aspirations. He was who any woman would aspire to marry.

But all she could think of was how soft Elia’s lips had been last night.

But Oberyn smiled at her, unaware of her internal conflict, and she had to smile back. She could never deny him that, it seemed.

“You were my favorite, you know.”

Argella bit back the sneer she felt growing as she finished packing away the small trunk she had taken. “Renly and Stannis both starved for a year holding our home against the Tyrells but I am your favorite? I must say that I hope your new crown grants you a bit more awareness.”

Robert reached out and wrapped his strong hand around her wrist, stopping her movements. “Please, Argella. Please.”

And despite wanting to simply run him through with any sharp object she could get her hands on, she let her older brother turn her to face him and almost scoffed at the tears in his eyes. “What?”

“What would it take for you to forgive me?”

“More than you could give, your grace.”

Robert’s warm hand dropped. “I am giving you one hundred thousand dragons, to help you make a home wherever you see fit.”

“I don’t want your coin! I want Elia alive and breathing! I want her babies to still call me ‘Aunt Argella’ and tug on my hair! I want my life as it was—before your hurt pride ripped it away from me. I was happy, Robert. I was so happy.”

“You used to be happy on my lap, listening to me tell you stories. You used to climb into my bed when you had nightmares because you trusted your brother to keep you safe.”

Argella felt her chin wobble with fresh tears. “Yes. I should have known better. Should have known that you were a selfish brute when you never returned a single one of my letters after you were taken in by Jon Arryn at the Eyrie as his ward. Should have known when you dismissed me out of hand when you came back to Storm’s End. I waited all night for you, to see you come back on your mare. I made sure the cooks had your favorite meal waiting for you, spent more than a few dragons getting that ale you liked from the market—and you waved me off as soon as the gates were opened. You have always been selfish, Robert. I should have known you would take what little happiness I had and squash that, too.”

Robert’s face turned a familiar, terrible shade of sweaty red and he turned away sharply before turning back to her, dragging a hand down his cheeks. “It was not me! I did not steal your Elia away from you!”

“Then tell me who! Tell me who gave the order!”

Elia happily sighed as Argella kissed the backs of each of her thighs, up her back, shoulders, before nipping just slightly at the pulse of her neck. They had been granted a few hours reprieve of Rhaegar’s presence and had indulged themselves in a little carnality, filled with soft touches and wet kisses that lingered and fingers that moved to touch places only the other knew about until they were biting at the other’s shoulders with a cry of release. Elia’s labored breathing slowed as she turned to face her lover, tugging at the ends of her dark hair, silently requesting a kiss which Argella happily gave. “Only the sun can rival the warmth you bring me.”

“You are my sun, Elia.” And then she kissed her again.

“Dorne is calling for war. Prince Oberyn is readying House Martell’s bannerman as we speak,” Jon Arryn, Robert’s new Hand of the King, and surrogate father was pacing around the Small Counsel chamber like a white haired pony.

“My sister wants to travel to Sunspear to deliver Elia and her children to her family,” Robert said.

Argella held her breath from her hiding place behind the door, waiting for Jon Arryn or some other stupid man to say it was not her place.

“That is acceptable. Perhaps Prince Oberyn would be willing to marry-”

“I will not force my sister into any arrangement she does not design herself. That will be the last I hear of it, Lord Arryn, am I understood?”

Jon let out a sigh. “Argella, must learn her place, Your Grace. And it is to serve you and the Realm.”

“Oberyn has sent another raven.” Elia held up the bit of parchment with a smile. “It seems you have made quite an impression on him. He has dreamt of your ‘beautiful eyes and sweet smile’ while he has been running around playing sellsword in Essos.”

Argella chuckled and shook her head. “I am sure he has plenty of people to distract himself with. I will be barely a memory to him in a few moons’ time.”

Elia reached out and tugged at the end of Argella’s braid. “You think so little of yourself, my love. No one would ever be able to forget you. Even when I am old and frail and I can barely remember my own name, I will remember you. I know it. The way you smile, the sound of your laugh,” she reached out to brush a finger down her cheek, “the curve of this, just here. I will remember you.”

Argella leaned forward and kissed her. “And I shall remember you, too, my love. Until the end of my days, which I promise will be at your side.”

Dorne was warm—even as the last vestiges of Winter had the other kingdoms still firmly in its grip. Argella had to pull the silly gable hood from atop her head only a few hours after sunrise as they crossed the Red Mountains. The traveling caravan was small. Much smaller than what was probably proper. But that was what she wanted. House Martell did not need more strangers showing up at their doorstep.

It irritated her enough that Jon Arryn insisted he accompany her, telling Robert that Argella wouldn’t be capable of easing Doran’s (and Oberyn’s) need for vengeance.

Their want for vengeance was justified. Argella wanted vengeance.

And she would have it. She was not satisfied just yet. She wasn’t sure if she ever would be, even if the world was left in ashes.

“Lala,” sang a familiar voice. “Lala!”

Argella opened her eyes at the sound of her secret nickname and had to catch Elia as she pounced onto her bed. “What is it, my love?” She asked in a tired whisper, eyes half closed again already. The sun had not yet risen but it was not as if she would send Elia from her bed.

“I am with child. The maester just confirmed it.”

Argella sat up in bed and her hand pressed against Elia’s stomach, all traces of sleep evaporating in a heartbeat. “Truly?”

Elia happily nodded and placed her hand over Argella’s, squeezing her fingers.

“Oh, my love. I know you have always wanted a babe of your own.” She just wished it was someone who truly loved her. Not Rhaegar—not the dragon prince who would use her babies for some delusion. “They will be the most loved. I know it.”

“Even by you?” Elia asked, her melodic voice very soft, almost frightened. “I know you do not care for Rhaegar-”

“This child comes from you, my love. I love them already.” And Argella meant every word. She would love this little prince or princess as if they were her own. She knew the moment Elia’s lips touched hers all those months ago that this relationship, this clandestine bond, would always be confined to the shadows and the dark of the night. But she truly wanted to scream it from the rooftops that Elia was the love of her life. She wanted to hold her hand in the sunlight, kiss her for all to see. Wanted everyone to know that the Sun of Dorne was worthy of every bit of love anyone and everyone could give her. But she was quiet. She remained the perfect lady in the eyes of court, living for these stolen moments.

Elia kissed her—and Argella could feel her smile pressing against her mouth. It was Argella’s favorite sensation—aside from the more carnal feelings only Elia could elicit from her beneath their silken blankets. “I love you,” Elia whispered against her mouth. “You know that, don’t you? I love you.”

“I love you too. More than words could ever truly express.” She kissed Elia and ignored how something churned in her chest.

“I have a list of names—if they are a boy or a girl.”

“As your ‘most trusted confidante,’ I must insist that you add Argella to your list,” she said with a wink, referencing how the court referred to Argella. Elia smiled and moved down the bed just enough to lay her head in Argella’s lap, a silent invitation for her to play with her hair. “Tell me the story behind your name. It is one of your ancestor’s names, correct?”

Argella hummed as she started to weave a braid into Elia’s hair. “The Stormlands were once ruled over by the Durrandon family. But, during Aegon’s Conquest, the head of the house was King Argilac the Arrogant. Argilac and Aegon tried to find a common agreement but it quickly soured when Argilac chopped off the hands of Aegon’s envoy and sent them back to the Targaryens in a box. Orys Baratheon, Aegon’s Hand, then challenged Argilac to a duel and, of course, easily slew Argilac. The Storm Land armies fled. Argella was Argilac’s only daughter and heir. When she heard of her father’s death, she barred the gates at Storm’s End and crowned herself Storm Queen.”

“Now I see why you’ve been given such a name,” Elia teased, earning a pinch to her side.

“The Stormlanders heard of how Aegon and his sisters burned everyone in their way and turned on Argella as Orys approached with his army. They wrapped her in chains and presented her—naked, mind you—to Orys Baratheon. They told him that he could do whatever he wished to her as long as they did not suffer the same fate as Harrenhal.”

“I have not heard of this. How cruel!”

Argella sighed and nodded, finishing off one of the braids before starting another. “But Orys was kind. He wrapped his cloak around her and fed her warm foods, telling her of her father’s bravery on the battlefield.”

“And then they were married?”

“And then they were married. Orys took the Durrandon words as his own—Ours is the Fury—and House Baratheon was created.”

Elia was quiet as Argella finished the second braid. “That is cruel, to name you after a woman whose fate was less than fair. I only knew she was the wife of Orys Baratheon—but I might have dozed a little when learning the histories of the other kingdoms with my Septa.”

Argella laughed lightly and leaned down just enough to brush a kiss at Elia’s temple. “I do not blame you—but I did always wish I was Nymeria of Ny Sar instead of Argella Durrandon.” She then pressed a kiss to Elia’s lips. “But I am lucky to have you in my arms now.”

Elia reached up to tug at the loose strands of Argella’s dark hair. “There must be other names in your family that are kinder to women, no?”

“I’m sure there are—but women are rarely written about in our house’s history aside from how many sons she might have given her husband.”

“I remember learning of a mermaid…Elenei? Am I saying that right? Elenei?”

Argella chuckled and nodded. “Yes. Elenei the mermaid—daughter of a sea god and goddess of the winds. Fell in love with the First Storm King, Durran Godsgrief, it is said. Her parents forbid their love and used their might to tear down any castle he built for his bride. But he kept building. Building and building until their storms could not shake the stones free.”

“And Storm’s End was made,” Elia finished with a smile on her lips.

Argella hummed and glanced outside to the moon. What would her ancestors say of her now? Hiding her love in the dark.

“Elenei. I like that name,” Elia said, seemingly unaware of Argella’s bit of melancholy. “A much better story than poor Argella. She must be happy to know that someone as strong as you carries her name. I am sure of it.” She tugged again at Argella’s hair with a smile, drawing her gaze back to her. “Truly, I can only think of one person holding that name.” Elia turned in her lap to truly look up at her, bathed in moonlight. “It is you—only you.” She reached up and placed her warm hand against the curve of Argella’s cheek. “My Lala.”

The towers of Sunspear loomed overhead and she tried not to think of a young Elia running down those marble steps, a laugh on her lips and the sun on her skin.

This was the place Elia called home. This was the place that she had wanted to return to with her babies. This was the place that Argella never wanted to see without Elia at her side.

“My lady,” a knight said to her, draped in colors of House Martell, “Prince Doran is waiting for you in his Solar. I shall escort you. Your entourage will have to wait here.” His eyes cut to Jon Arryn in particular who was already opening his mouth to argue.

“I follow where you lead, Ser. Lord Arryn needs some sun anyway.” She only gave Jon Arryn a look in return, drying the words on his tongue before following the knight into the cooled shadows of the fortress.

The pair was quiet, only the sound of their footsteps echoing in their hall, before he slowed to a stop in front of a carved, white wood door and bowed his head just slightly before opening it for her.

“Lady Argella, I’ve been expecting you.”

Rhaenys was beautiful. Beautiful like her mother and liked to laugh when Argella would kiss her little tummy. Argella did not mind when Elia would ask her to hold the little princess when she grew tired. The birth had been hard and the healers and maesters said it would take time for her body to heal itself.

Rhaegar, the pompous silver-haired prince, did not seem to care that his wife was bedridden. He had already pressed Elia to agree to the name of Rhaenys and didn’t seem to spend much more time than necessary with his newborn daughter. He did dote on her, true. But Argella knew and wished that he could do more. More for Elia. More for Rhaenys. More for his family and less of that stupid prophecy he was known to obsess over when he was in trusted company.

“The dragon must have three heads.”

It all sounded so ridiculous. He had everything. A family who loved him. And he continued to not see that, willfully.

But she pushed that from her mind as Rhaenys happily slept in her arms while Elia was napping, too. Her sun tilted toward the slip of sunlight warming the side of her pillow as the sea washed up on the shore just a few feet below. The hum of Dragonstone was quiet.

This was peace. This was as perfect as her life could get, she knew it. Despite all the secrets, the hurt, the loneliness when Elia was called away, this right here? This was worth all of it.

Rhaenys’ dark eyes opened and she smiled as she recognized Argella—she was a smart little babe. “Hello, my little sundrop.”

Doran had given her a room in Sunspear for the night, telling her the arrangements had been made to have the funerals tomorrow. The Silent Sisters who had accompanied them down were making sure the bodies of Elia and her babies were prepared correctly for people of their station and rank.

Argella didn’t sleep that night. Doran seemed to know she wouldn’t and had a maid come in when the moon was at its highest with a bit of tea to help her. She took it with a soft ‘thank you’ but hardly sipped at it as the maid stood at the side of her bed.

“This was the princess’ room, you know, my lady. When she was a girl.”

And that just about destroyed her but she hid her face in her teacup and quickly drained its contents before handing it back to the maid who quietly excused herself, probably aware that the woman was about to burst into tears.

And Argella did, as the door shut in its frame. Through blurred vision, she could almost see Elia sitting at the edge of the bed with a smile and a book on her lap. She could almost see Elia wrapping herself in the golden silk of the blankets with a happy smile. She could almost see Elia.

And that was the worst part of it all. To know that Elia had been here, in this place, felt safe in this place, and now she was here—alone.

The Tourney at Harrenhal was a disaster. And that was putting it politely. There had been the unannounced and unexpected appearance of King Aerys—who had barely been seen outside Maegor’s Holdfast in the last two years. Then the appearance and subsequent disappearance of the mysterious Knight of the Laughing Tree. Little Lord Jaime Lannister had been inducted into the KIngsguard and then sent to King’s Landing to guard Queen Rhaella and little Prince Viserys, which in one move, stripped Tywin Lannister of his heir and refused Jaime the chance at more glory in the tourney.

But that was not even the worst of it. Elia had been feeling poorly the entire time and Argella was fretting constantly, like an old mother hen.

But she did remember how Elia was when she was pregnant with Rhaenys, and knew that Elia wanted to keep the second pregnancy a secret until she was sure she could carry this babe to term, too. She was so delicate. But she still sat in the box, beside her uncle Ser Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard, and Oberyn, who had finished his ‘adventures’ across the Narrow Sea, to cheer on her husband in the tourney.

On the night before the final day of the tourney, Argella was happy to see Elia with a bit of life back in her face as she danced with Oberyn and Ser Arthur after the night’s feast. Oberyn then called Argella for a dance and whispered in her ear, making her laugh as one song turned into two then three. And if he snuck a kiss against her cheek, she would never tell.

Argella then pulled her princess away with a secretive smile, toward her tent. “We cannot be sure that Rhaegar will win tomorrow—so I wanted to be sure to crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty.”

Elia laughed and kissed her as Argella plopped a crown of braided blue roses on her shining black hair. “No matter if he does or not, I know that I am yours,” she whispered.

And, for a moment, Argella was happy.

The happiness would not last.

Rhaegar did indeed win the jousting tourney and he was given an ornate crown of blue roses to crown his Queen of Love and Beauty. Argella steeled herself to watching Rhaegar lathe half-hearted attentions on his wife—but what happened was much worse. Rhaegar rode his horse past his pregnant wife and placed the wreath of roses in the lap of Lyanna Stark.

The Septon’s words were a low hum in her ears. She could only stare blankly ahead as the funeral processions continued on. It felt like a rusted blade had wedged itself between her ribs and twisted with each breath she took. It ached.

Most of the Dornish in attendance did not look at her. She might as well have been just another pillar in the large hall. Unnecessary and unimportant. But some others… some other she could hear whisper if she put in enough effort.

“That one… the doe. The Usurper’s sister.”

“She must be mad to show herself here.”

“She should have died instead of Princess Elia.”

And they were right. She wanted to be dead instead of Elia.

But a few were kind, their eyes sad as they looked at her, as if they knew something she did not. One of them was Harmen Uller, Lord of Hellholt. His large, warm hand clasped her shoulder and squeezed gently, murmuring his condolences with kind eyes. Lady Mellario, Doran’s wife, also did not avoid her, giving her a small smile as they passed each other in the halls and offering her solar if Argella ever needed a reprieve from the court at Sunspear. But her young daughter, Princess Arianne, was always at her side, and it hurt to see the happy little girl who would always ask after her Aunt Elia.

It hurt.

So she sat in her rooms and cried.

Elia was quiet as she sat on the edge of her bed. She had managed to school her face into careful indifference during the tourney but had sunk into herself as soon as Elia had pulled her away into the tent. Oberyn was raging—vowing vengeance against the Crown Prince for the public display of shame he had just cast over his wife.

But Argella did not hear his words, only sitting at her princess’ side and holding her hand, trying to be there for her when she needed. She would do anything to make Elia smile again.

“He told me that he would do this,” Elia finally said, pulling a gasp from Argella and stopping Oberyn in his tracks.

“What?”

Elia lifted her chin from her chest and looked at her brother with tears in her eyes. “The maester told me that this babe would be the last I could bare.”

“What does that matter?” Oberyn hissed. “Two is plenty—two is perfect. Rhaenys is perfect,” Argella said, grip tightening on Elia’s hand.

“He has been obsessed with a prophecy—the dragon must have three heads—since he was a boy. He thinks the savior of the world will come from his bloodline.”

“I will split his head in three,” Oberyn said but Elia reached out and grabbed his arm as he moved toward the tent’s flap.

“Do not, Oberyn. I will remain his Queen, the true Queen. The babe I now carry will be king and any child the wolf-girl bares him will only be a spare. He has promised me this. But I had…I had only hoped that he would have waited until they were alone for him to start his courtship.” She shook her head. “And I am not sure if the girl told her betrothed of Rhaegar’s plan.”

Oh, that was right—Lyanna had been recently betrothed to Robert. He had been so excited to announce the news and then promptly brought two women to his chambers to ‘celebrate.’ Argella doubted marriage would tame his appetites. But his pride would be wounded. And a wounded stag was a dangerous one—Robert embodied the Baratheon’s words to his core. Ours is the Fury.

“Robert is an eligible lord. He can find another bride, I am sure of it.”

Elia nodded. “I do hope so. For his sake.”

The funeral had ended and Doran had asked her to wait for him in his solar. She awkwardly stood near the window, watching the sea lap at the shore until the door opened with a slam.

“How dare you show your face here, in Elia’s home!” Oberyn was already raging from across the room, his voice echoing. He was crossing the marble floor then, strides long. “You—the sister of the Usurper. You—who my sister trusted with her life. I should strike you down where you stand.” He stopped as he stepped to her side, his beautiful face twisted into a snarl most fowl.

“I would let you.”

And that seemed to strike at Oberyn as he took a single step back. “Have you no self-preservation? Did you come here to let us kill you like some lamb? To sate your brother’s guilt?”

“No…no I came here to…bring Elia home.”

Oberyn’s snarl faded. “Then you come here to sate your own guilt.”

“I came here to bring Elia home,” she repeated, standing just a fraction straighter despite the urge to curl into herself, as if that would shield her from Oberyn’s stare.

“You have done that. Leave.”

Dragonstone felt as if it were about to be consumed by the volcano on which it sat.

The paranoia of King Aerys had only grown, thinking everyone was his enemy. A raven the king had sent to his son was filled with unsubtle threats and demands for Rhaegar to stay at his side, to remain loyal to his father.

But Rhaegar only played his stupid harp and pored over his scrolls about prophecy as Elia languished in her pregnancy.

“He is preoccupied with saving the world, Lala. Try not to hate him too much.”

Argella sighed as she pulled the blankets a little higher around Elia. She had been so cold lately, constantly shivering as her hands cradled her growing belly. “If he truly wanted to save the world, he would have deposed his father long ago.” She shook her head. “He should be preoccupied with keeping you comfortable. You are carrying his child.”

“We both know you are more suited for it—and I prefer your company,” Elia said with a smile.

Argella had to smile at that and leaned down to kiss Elia’s forehead before sneaking a kiss against her lips, too. “Then I shall stay at your side until you tire of me.”

Elia chased her lips as best she could for another kiss before falling back against the silk-covered pillow with a smile. “You know I will never tire of you.”

The sun was beating down on her but the soft breeze off the water almost made it tolerable. The dark veil over her face fluttered and hid her tears from the other onlookers. The grand tomb of Elia and her children had been finished just that morning. The final brick laid. They would rest beside their ancestors in Sunspear’s ornate necropolis. They were home again. They could rest.

Argella walked forward and pressed her hand over the deep carving of Elia’s name. Princess Elia Nymeros Martell – The Sun of Dorne.

“Goodbye, my love.” She lifted the veil just enough to kiss the smooth stone of Elia’s name—the last kiss she would be able to give her. Her fingers traced Rhaenys and Aegon’s names, too. A quiet goodbye.

It was time for her to go. She had only a few more things to attend to and then…she would set sail. She would leave Westeros.

The royal stables still held her wheelhouse and she found the trunk she was needing and waved off the servants who offered her help. She dragged the trunk into her room and unlocked it before feeling fresh tears sting her eyes. Tucked inside, neatly tucked beside her dresses and chemises, was a portrait. It was of Elia and her babies. They were smiling and happy and…alive.

Some artist from Braavos had impressed Elia with his talents as he sold his wares at the market on Dragonstone and Argella had secretly commissioned him for the portrait only a handful of moons before the rebellion started. She had meant to gift it to Elia for her next nameday.

It was a true likeness—he had perfectly captured the gentle warmth in Elia’s eyes as she looked down at Aegon in her arms as he slept and Rhaenys dutifully peeked over her mother’s arm to look down at her brother. The gold dragons Robert had gifted her were left forgotten at the bottom of the trunk as she closed the lid, the portrait in her hands as she moved toward Doran’s solar.

A servant bowed to her as he announced her presence and Doran welcomed her, telling her to take a seat across from him at his finely carved desk as he finished a bit of correspondence. And she patiently waited, the portrait sitting on her lap, her arms wrapped around its frame as if she were trying to hug it—to hug the little family on its canvas.

Perhaps she was.

When she handed it over to Doran, her fingers lingers on the carved frame before dropping back down her lap.

Doran was quiet as he looked at the portrait but she could see the emotions running through his eyes before he tightly shut them and nodded once before calling for and handing it off to a servant and whispering where he wanted it hung. The servant nodded before walking away, the portrait in his hands held like a precious gem.

Argella told him of how Elia had loved the artist’s skill and Doran smiled at that. “She would have loved it. I know it.” He paused to clear his throat, the warble of tears in his voice. “It is a fine gift, my lady.”

“I have…one last gift for you. Much less palatable than the last.”

Rhaegar had left.

His wife had nearly died bringing his son into the world and he had set off with his band of guards to the Riverlands, quoting the prophecy again. Lyanna Stark waited for him.

The raven Argella had sent to Robert, telling him to break off the engagement to the wolf-girl had went unanswered.

“I am nervous, Lala. Everything is about to change.”

Argella stepped beside Elia at the window and kissed her temple as she watched Rhaegar and his retinue recede on the horizon. “And I shall be with you every step of the way.”

“I know that you were more than a companion to Elia.” Doran said it with such ease that it startled her. They had been quietly sipping tea in his solar as the sun rose when he spoke. “She loved you. I know you love her. You have lost your sun, too. And you have come here, to return her and her children home, despite knowing that your welcome would not be kind.” Doran took her hand in his and gently patted at her wrist. “The truth will come out, little doe. But we must let all of Dorne grieve, too.” He sighed and his eyes moved to the giant skull sitting on a tall-legged table. That had been the price Robert paid to try to buy Argella’s forgiveness. He had told her who had been the one to steal the sun from the world and demanded Tywin hand him over or he would not marry Cersei. Tywin had agreed. “I have been told that you are hoping to set sail for Braavos on the next ship that comes to port in a fortnight.”

She nodded.

“You will always be welcome here.”

“I cannot stay here—not without Elia.”

And Doran nodded at that. “If you ever care to return, there will be a place for you at my table.”

“That is kind of you, Prince Doran. Your wife has also suggested I visit her homeland of Norvos, if I am given the chance.”

Doran opened his mouth to respond when the door opened and Oberyn strode in. His dark eyes darted from his brother to Argella. “I thought you would have left by now.”

“Oberyn,” Doran scolded.

“I am surprised you would sup with a Baratheon, brother. First Jon Arryn comes and tries to offer peace and you take it without argument.”

Without a word, Doran opened a drawer on his desk and produced a bit of parchment from its depths. “Oberyn. I have a letter for you.”

“Now is not the time, brother.”

“It is from Elia.”

“I have already been given the last letter my sister wrote to me. Telling me of how scared she was in the Red Keep and how she loved me.” His dark eyes looked to Argella again. “How she wished that I could have been there.”

“There was another, brother,” Doran gently said, extending his arm out, lifting the letter a little higher.

Oberyn looked from Doran to Argella again before pulling his lips tight against his teeth and walking over to snatch the parchment from Doran’s outstretched hand. He opened it and Argella watched his dark eyes scan the words, his face crumpling as he finished. And then he looked to her again. “You? It was you?”

Argella looked to Doran who only looked back at her, eyes unreadable. “I…I don’t understand.”

Oberyn carefully tucked the paper into his tunic before marching forward to grasp Argella’s arm and nearly hauled her out of the room, through the halls, and toward his own chambers. When the door shut, he pushed her into the overstuffed chair at his desk. Dozens and dozens of letters were neatly stacked on top and Oberyn whispered that she should read them. He placed the letter he had just received beside the stack. “You deserve to know.” And then he left her there, alone in his solar.

It took Argella a moment to work up the nerve to reach out and grasp the first letter, recognizing Elia’s neat handwriting.

Argella dashed down the stairs toward Elia’s chambers with a smile on her face. She had woken in a good mood at Elia’s side that morning and had only slipped away to dress for the day. The sound of metal on stone seemed to echo in the halls and she briefly wondered if the royal guards were running drills.

But, as she turned the corner toward the hall that contained Elia’s chambers, two spears were thrust out toward her. “Lady Argella Baratheon, you are forbidden from seeing Princess Elia.”

“Move aside. I am her maid—it is my duty to-”

“Your brother has taken up arms against the Crown. House Baratheon are traitors. You are now a hostage until your brother is dead and your brothers swear fealty—or they are killed.”

“I demand you move aside this instant! I am no threat to Elia or her babies. I am loyal—you have-”

Two more guards suddenly grasped her arms and started hauling her back toward her chambers.

“Elia?! Elia?” She screamed.

But she was a prisoner here, too. She knew it.

My dear Oberyn, I am in love. I know only you would truly understand when I say that it is not with my husband. I shall only call them Lala, to keep their identity secret—I would not have them persecuted at Court if these letters would be discovered. But I am happy, brother. Happier than I ever thought possible.

They have kept me sane, dried my tears. When their lips touch mine, I believe I have tasted heaven—if only for a moment. My Lala is my haven in this wretched world. Rhaenys is fond of Lala, too. It is…almost as if the gods have blessed me with them, letting me have my true family at my side, letting me know what I should have had. …perhaps it is actually a curse.

Over and over again, Elia had written to Oberyn about ‘Lala,’ telling him of how they lived. How they loved. She read of how much Elia had loved her.

“Lala?” The voice was soft, but it still woke her from sleep.

Argella sat up in her bed in an instant, recognizing the dark shape at the edge of her bed. She reached out and drew Elia into her bed and quickly pressed her lips to hers, desperate and wanting.

“I do not have much time. The guards are changing shifts and they will notice I am not in my chambers if I do not time this correctly. But I had to see you.” She kissed Argella again. “I needed to see you.”

“You must know I would never, ever do anything to endanger you or Rhaenys and Aegon.”

“I know, my love. I know it as well as I know my name. But I have been summoned to King’s Landing. We leave at first light.”

“Will I be coming with you?”

Tears filled Elia’s eyes as she shook her head. “You cannot. You are to stay here as leverage against your brothers. And I do not know what Aerys would do to you if you were to come to Court again. I have learned he has been burning dozens of people a day.”

“You cannot go,” Argella said, grasping at Elia’s hands. “It is not safe.”

“You know I must. I would only make his ire worse if I prolong how long it takes me to arrive. I would rather arrive with my head held high than in shackles that I know these knights would slap on my wrists if given the order.”

“Elia, please,” the tears were choking her. “Please, do not-”

But she kissed her again. “I love you.” And in the next breath, she was gone.

One last letter remained and she dreaded what it held, what Elia had written to Oberyn to make him forgive her so easily, but she slid her thumb under the broken seal anyway and read it.

Oberyn. I know my time on this plane is coming to a close. I can only hope that my babies will survive this but I know in my heart of hearts, that they may not. The Seven Heavens await us all. I wish I could have seen Sunspear one more time, pushed you into the pools at the Water Gardens like I did when we were children. You used to pout so much after I would do that, and mother always fussed over you. I miss you brother. More than words can say. I wish I had more time. When this is over, please tell Argella, my Lala, I love her. Tell her I know she was innocent in all of this—it was not her doing. Tell her to smile. Tell her I will wait for her. She helped me understand what love should be like—she gave me her heart and I gave her mine. Tell her that I will be with her—every sunrise and every sunset. I am with you all.

The last letter slipped from her hand and Argella wept.

Her hands hurt. For hours on end, she would hit the locked door of her chambers, pleading to be let out.

But no one would answer. She only heard the terrible sound of metal on stone as knights moved through the halls and once a day, a plate of food was slid beneath her door.

How long had it been? If she was counting the moon’s cycles correctly—it had been three months.

She had nearly given up the last tendrils of hope she had before her door suddenly swung open and a familiar face stood in her doorway. Queen Rhaella Targaryen looked as bruised and beaten as ever, but the gentle swelling of her stomach was new—she was pregnant.

“Lady Argella,” her voice was as soft as it ever was. “I must apologize for your captivity. I have instructed a ship to have you brought to Greenstone—your mother’s home, was it not?”

“It…it was, your grace.”

Rhaella nodded and held out a hand to Argella, helping her stand from her place on the cold, stone floor. “I hope you do not hold me in any ill will. I had not heard of your imprisonment when we disembarked. I would have had you home sooner.”

Argella shook her head, her greasy hair falling in front of her face. “I know you are kindhearted, your grace. I am happy to see you safe.”

Rhaella’s answering smile was small and she nodded. “I will have a maid sent up to help you wash. Your ship will leave at first light.”

And Argella would have been lying if she did not feel a bit of relief as she saw the familiar island of Greenstone come into view as the ship neared its shores. Her aunt and uncle were quick to welcome her and made sure she was comfortable in their finest rooms. And it was only then, that Argella had the nerve to ask what had happened.

Her aunt smiled. “Our little Robert is King of the Seven Kingdoms. Is that not wonderful news?”

“And…and Princess Elia? Little Rhaenys and Aegon?” She hated the sound of hope in her voice. It was cruel to her own ears.

Her uncle sputtered and looked to his wife for a moment. “They were killed when the Lannister army sacked the city.”

And the scream Argella let out nearly shook the walls.

Oberyn sat at her side without a word. He did not speak. Neither did she.

But silence eventually turned to quiet, stilted conversation which evolved into seeking each other out at meals and then Oberyn was slipping into her rooms at night so they could continue their discussions, falling back into old habits of hidden smiles and secrets and trying to make each other laugh even if they wanted to cry.

On the last night, Oberyn slipped into her room and watched as she packed away her belongings and readied for bed. As she neared the bed, he stood and grasped her hands in a soft grip that had her sucking in a shuddering breath. She did not want to say goodbye just yet.

“I loved you once. I might love you again—I believe I do already.”

That was equal parts the best and worst thing he could have ever said. “And I love you still. But not in the way you deserve. You…” the words were hard in her throat. “You deserve to be someone’s sun. You deserve to be someone’s first choice. And you will be, I know it. You will find the true love of your life.” She paused. “And I know I would only be a reminder of those who you loved and lost.”

“Just as I would be to you.”

Argella nodded and dropped her head to her chest. “Yes. I am so sorry, Oberyn. Truly.”

But he shook his head and squeezed at her fingers. “Do not be sorry, little doe. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He stepped closer and rested his forehead against hers, both of them squeezing their eyes shut at the contact. “Let us not part on such sad terms. Let our last memory together be one of happiness.”

Argella nodded as best she could, trying to keep the warmth of his embrace as close as possible. “Whatever you wish. Whatever you want. It is yours.”

And the night they spent together was filled with hungry, searching kisses and warm hands and slick skin. Oberyn kissed her as his release rumbled through him and then quickly made sure she found hers, too, before making sure she was truly tired and finding euphoria with each other again before they both fell asleep in her rumpled blankets.

And she did sleep soundly—far better than she had in over a year. Before the Rebellion. But she still woke before the sun and took a moment to watch Oberyn sleep—peaceful amongst the silk. Carefully, she brushed the hair away from his face and kissed his brow in a silent goodbye before slipping away.

At the port, she caught sight of Harmen Uller and his retinue, preparing their boats to return to Hellholt.

“Ah, my lady. Prince Doran has told me you are departing as well.”

Argella only nodded before seeing a beautiful woman step to Harmen’s side.”

“This is my daughter, Ellaria Sand.”

“My lady,” Ellaria said with a small curtsey.

Argella mirrored the motion. “Lady Ellaria.”

But Ellaria chuckled. “I am no lady. But I do wish you fair travels.” Ellaria reached out and grasped Argella’s hands and squeezed, as if knowing that she was in desperate need for some sort of simple contact. “And whatever lies before you, I hope it is kinder than what lies behind.”

Lord Uller nodded at his daughter’s word.

“And I wish the same for you. Your kindness… it has been most welcome.” She smiled as best she could and bid them goodbye as they were boarded onto their fine ship. And then it was time for her to do the same.

She crossed the gangplank and was welcomed by the crew who had been expecting her—and her gold. Before she was shuffled away to her cabin below deck, Argella turned and looked back at Sunspear, trying to press it into her memory. She wanted to remember how the sun shimmered on the golden towers and how the sea salted the air and the sand glistened.

And on just the edge of the dock, just a few feet away from the bustle of the early morning crowd, was Oberyn. He raised a hand to her, a quiet goodbye. Argella did the same.

And then she turned and walked away.

Braavos was welcoming. Filled with song and people who would smile and the customs of the city demanded that the highborn and wealthy wear black—it was fitting. She could wear black the rest of her days, a mourning dress. But while they would treat her with the respect a woman of her station warranted, both high and lowborn would take an opportunity to coo over the babe on her hip.

It had only taken her a few moons to realize she was with child. And Elenei came screaming into the world just past midday, when the sun was at its highest. Fitting. Elenei looked like a Baratheon—except for her eyes. Her viper eyes that would shine in the light and always seemed to know more than she said. Those were inherently Oberyn. She was a Martell.

And she was the delight of the maids who watched her when Argella was tending to her duties as a companion to the Merling Queen, one of the most revered courtesans Braavos had ever sheltered. Her duties mostly included letting Laena, as only Argella was allowed to call her when they were alone, speak of her troubles and help her remember when she was supposed to meet whichever rich lord had paid for her company that week.

Laena was kind and sweet and sometimes would simply cry when she felt that her public persona had robbed her of a true life, of happiness. In a way, Argella was reminded of Elia. A kind woman shackled to duties she did not truly agree to and confined within a gilded cage. So, she let Laena use her as a walking diary, let her express emotions she could not with anyone else. It was cathartic for both of them, in a way.

Argella did not need the coin the position provided—she could have lived very comfortably with the small mountain of gold Robert had given her. But she needed a distraction—and the connections she made at Laena’s side made sure Elenei would be as high-ranking as she ever could be in Westeros.

Elenei was her whole world. The light of her days. She need only look at her daughter’s face to feel herself smile.

She hoped that Oberyn would smile again, too. She hoped her would find happiness with someone kind and beautiful who would handle his wrath with gentleness. Her mind conjured a thought of Ellaria and she found herself smiling at the thought. They would be a handsome pair. Maybe the gods would allow them to be happy.

For a few years, as Elenei continued to grow and prosper into a lovely and well-learned little lady, Argella pondered telling Oberyn of his daughter across the Narrow Sea. But that would have been crueler, wouldn’t it? To drag him back to into the tumult and loss she knew she embodied for him and his family.

And Elenei seemed to know that her father was an important man—but that her mother’s heart also belonged to another. And would forever.

“The sun is shining today, mama. That always makes you smile,” Elenei would say whenever the almost ever-present clouds would clear for a few hours.

“Yes, my sweet one. The sun will always make me smile.”

Elenei smiled and held her mother’s hand, dragging her out of their manse as their servants chuckled at the familiar sight. “Then I must make you smile, mama!”

“Do you think you’ll love me forever?” Elia asked, eyes closed as sleep started to take her.

“I know I will.”

(And another banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites I love you)

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

#elia martell x ofc #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell imagine #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn martell #elia martell

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kaunis-sielu · 3 years

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A Knight’s Lady: 4

The rest of the ride passes in comfortable silence. Steve drifts off for a while, as do you when you wake it’s nearly dark and the carriage has stopped. Steve isn’t in the carriage anymore so you pop open the door to see where he’s gone. The men are doing something and Strange is walking around the group muttering something. Your gaze lands on Steve’s just as he glances up and sees you’re out of the carriage. He leaves the man that he’s talking to and makes his way to you.

“So, some bad news. We’re going to have to make camp here tonight. The werewolf attack made us fall behind and once it’s dark it’s not safe to travel.”

“Alright.”

“You can sleep in the carriage.”

“I-I’d rather not be alone.”

“You’d rather sleep outside then in the carriage?” He asks looking surprised and you nod. “Alright, if that’s what you’d like. I’ll have Strange set something up for you to change, Clinton and Peter are getting food ready. Anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“I’d like t-to meet your men.”

“Of course.” He offers you his arm then leads you over to the fire. The men instantly quiet as you approach, “Knights. Your Duchess, m’lady this is Samuel, Strange you’ve met, Anthony, James Rhodes who we call Rhodes, James who we call Bucky you’ve also met, and Thor. When Clinton and Peter get back I’ll introduce you to them too.”

“How are you finding the trip your Grace?” Anthony asks placing another log on the fire.

“It’s been pleasant. I-I’ve never s-seen anything so gr-green.” Damn your nerves, they’re going to think you a fool.

“Have you ever been North?” Rhodes asks and you shake your head no. “It only gets greener.” He tells you with a smile, “and the wild flowers are like nothing I’ve ever seen.” Thankfully two figures come out of the woods then with a deer hung on a branch between them.

“The one on the left is Clinton, the smaller on the right is Peter. He’s the only man who isn’t a knight, yet. I expect that to change on our next trip to the capitol.” Steve says softly into your ear.

“He looks v-very young.”

“Worth more than many men twice his age.” Steve says and you nod, you have this feeling he means your father. “He must be close to your age.”

“I’m twenty and six.” Steve seems surprised, “F-father was m-m-more concerned with marrying off D-D-Daisy.”

“I cannot believe that no one tried to marry you.”

“One d-did. Lord Thanos.” A older man with a temper to match your father’s.

“What happened?”

“Daisy. She c-convinced father it w-would be a sh-shame on our family. F-for the daughter of a Earl to m-marry a L-Lord.”

“Should I ever meet Daisy remind me to thank her.”

“H-how did you know?”

“Know what?”

“About me?”

“I saw you once. Your father held that tournament and I saw you when I was in the garden. You were sitting on the ground, behind some flowering bushes in this pale pink dress, reading a book and I was enchanted. I’d heard of your sister but I had Philip ask around and once I knew who you were I put a plan into action.”

“I’m grateful.”

“I’m glad.” He says with a soft smile. The men have been preparing the deer for dinner and they’re setting up a spit to start cooking. You watch quietly as they get started, as the sun goes down it gets cooler and the breeze no longer is refreshing but cold. You don’t have clothes for the north, you wrap your arms around your torso and will yourself not to shake.

The fire dances under the meat as they spin it and you’re mesmerized, it’s so peaceful, if only the wind would die down a bit. You shiver once and Steve looks down at you.

“Are you alright? Are you cold?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have anything in your trunk?”

“N-no.” He stands abruptly and you have to bite back the little moan that builds in your throat at the loss of his warmth. His cape is draped gently over your shoulders and his scent envelopes you as the warmth does too.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks sounding angry as he sits back down next to you.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry.” You stammer, it was only a matter of time that he got angry with you.

“It’s not your fault, I should’ve known that you wouldn’t have warm clothing. I’ll make sure to get you some as soon as we get to the next village. Something fur lined I think.” A few minutes later Bucky comes up with two plates of food and passes one to you,

“Have you ever had venison your Grace?”

“No, it sm-smells delicious.” And it is, the men chat among themselves while you eat then set up a watch schedule despite Strange insisting that his shield was all that was needed. Steve brings two rolled up mats over to you and lays one down next to the other.

“Do you want to change into something else to sleep?” He asks gently, “none of the knights will look.”

“N-no.” You tell him, you couldn’t get out of this dress alone anyways.

“Are you sure?” He says and you nod you take the blanket he passes you then lay down on the mat nearest to the fire while he starts to pull off his armor, Peter comes over quickly and helps him taking each piece off with practiced ease. He’s not as big without the armor, he’s still big just less so. He joins you on the ground with a soft sigh then glances over at you. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles softly over at you. You can’t help but smile back at him.

The next two days are much of the same, traveling, stopping to eat, Steve buys you a beautiful fur lined cloak with deep purple outside. It’s truly the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given you just for you. On the last night of your travel you’re laying on the ground as the fire dies next to you. Steve had agreed to take first watch and was sitting at your side when a flash of light catches your eye.

“What was that?” You whisper sitting up and Steve looks over at you.

“What was what?”

“Are those fireflies?” You ask pointing, they seem too big to be normal fireflies.

“No, be very still and very quiet.” He says before sliding you slowly back against him. “They’re fairies,” he breathes into your ear, “it’s very rare to see them and they’re very skittish around humans. This is only the second time I’ve seen them and never this many.” There must be nearly a dozen dancing colorful lights, you watch them silently, your back pressed to Steve’s chest. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen, it’s so soothing that you end up drifting off against him.

Tag list:

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#steve rogers #captain america #imagine steve rogers #captain america x reader #imagine captain america #imagine steve rogers x reader #imagine steve rogers x reader au #knight!captain america #knight!steve rogers #knight!au #Steve Rogers x reader #knight story

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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

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Funny Little Ups and Downs

Summary: Loki is having a bad day. The love of his life is being sent away to marry some ridiculous Vanir prince, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Then her little sister shows up to give him a pep talk.

Word Count: 3,824

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

A/N: Sound the alarms! Alert the media! Cozy wrote something happy! I actually wrote the majority of this over three months ago, then got stuck on the ending and forgot all about it until a few days ago. It’s inspired by “I Love Melvin,” a silly little musical from 1953 starring Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor that employs my favorite trope of all time: the main character’s little sibling bonding with the romantic interest. It’s fun, it’s cute, and I just had to write it. Consider it an apology for all the angst I’ve been throwing your way XD

Warnings: None

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Spring in Asgard was truly something to behold. The last dredges of winter melted into memory, leaving behind a crispness in the air and a radiance in the land as vibrant life bloomed across the planet. It was a kind of brilliance that one could hardly resist, and so it was no surprise that the palace gardens were alive with activity— novice warriors sparring in the field, strolling couples engaged in lively conversation, giggling children chasing each other through the labyrinth of brick and shrubbery.

It seemed the very universe was mocking him.

Loki held his head in his hands, huddled in a despondent heap at the edge of the garden bench. It was truly amazing how quickly the sweet spring air turned foul. The day had started with such promise, and now …

“Hi your Highness!” Loki jumped when the little girl plopped down next to him without a warning, crumbs spilling into her braids as she munched on a cookie.

He sighed. “Oh, hello Milla.” He couldn’t say he particularly cared for company at the moment, but he couldn’t find the energy to shoo her off.

Milla studied him, chewing intently. “Are you crying?” she asked.

“Of course not!” Loki bristled. Was he now so pathetic that he was garnering the pity of a child? He huffed in indignation.

She patted his arm as if in consolation. “It’s okay to cry, Prince Loki. I cry all the time.”

Norns.

He swallowed the temptation to shove her away and abandon the bench, electing instead to change the subject. “Did Sigyn send you?”

It wouldn’t have been the first time she delegated her little sister to the position of messenger. Perhaps Milla was here with some kind of news, that the whole thing was a misunderstanding and Sigyn wasn’t getting married after all. But deep down, Loki knew that was nothing but wishful thinking. If that were the case, Sigyn would have come herself.

“No,” Milla said, dashing what little hope he had against the brick walkway. “I saw you leaving from my window. You looked sad.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Was Sigyn mean to you?”

It was such a childish question that Loki laughed, although there was no humor in the sound. Sigyn didn’t have a mean bone in her body. It was something of which he was in perpetual awe. It didn’t matter how badly her day had gone, how grievously she had been wronged—she always had a kind word or a sweet gesture and an eagerness to help. There was a grace about her, a grace that Loki had never seen from anyone else in court.

The way she had broke the news to him, pushing him into the hallway outside her apartment before he even had the chance to knock … it was cruel, but it wasn’t a cruelty she had chosen. He understood that at least.

Loki heaved another sigh. “It wasn’t her fault.”

For a moment, Milla was quiet. He turned away from her. It seemed he really was that pathetic.

“Sigyn got all upset after you left,” she finally said. “She went running upstairs and hid in her room. Now Daddy’s mad because Prince Sverrir is coming over and she’s not ready.” Sverrir. Loki dug his fingernails into his palms. Milla didn’t seem to notice his tension.

“Do you know Prince Sverrir?” she asked.

Loki grit his teeth. “I’ve met him.” It was astonishing how his opinion of the Vanir Crown Prince had changed from aloof indifference to outright hatred within a matter of words. Loki had known Sverrir since they were both children, when Vanaheim’s royal family had come to Asgard for a few weeks to celebrate the millennial anniversary of the end of the Aesir-Vanir War. He had found him to be tiresome as a boy, a trait that did not improve upon adulthood. Loki had avoided him when he could.

Sverrir had only become relevant to him within the last few years, when after one royal visit he began to express an interest in Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir. At this point, Sigyn and Loki had been seeing each other in secret for quite some time, and while a public courtship was still out of the question, Loki had no intention of allowing the foreign prince to pursue what he already called his own.

The court was appalled when it discovered that Sverrir had been hiring harlots and bringing them into his chambers—his guest chambers, the very rooms in which the Asgardian royal family had so kindly allowed him to stay! His insistence that he had never even interacted with the ladies of the night, let alone allowed one on to palace grounds, fell upon deaf ears and Sverrir was forced to return home to avoid further scandal. Loki remembered watching him cross the Bifrost, with his unnatural posture and his idiotic attempt at regality, certain that they’d seen the last of him.

But now here he was again, back with a few years distance and an ailing father, and suddenly every woman in Asgard was ready to fall at his feet. Which would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he decided upon the only woman who didn’t want him in return.

Loki groaned, rubbing his temples. Besides him, Milla prattled on.

“He’s very dull, isn’t he?” she was saying, brushing the cookie crumbs off the front of her dress. “The last time he came over he just sat in the parlor and talked about how much Sigyn would like Vanaheim. I don’t think she was all that interested. And he kept calling me Mina!” She scowled at the ground, as if Sverrir was there, sitting at her feet, before turning back to Loki. “I like you better. You’re nice to me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Yeah!” she grinned, tapping his shoulder enthusiastically. “You know my name, at least. And you gave me my good-luck charm!”

She pulled the charm out from under her top, fastened to her neck by thin strip of leather. It was nothing special, just a simple wooden carving of a cat’s head that he had whittled himself during his time serving as diplomat in Alfheim. He didn’t have near the talent for woodworking of the Elven carvers, but he was patient in his practice. By the end of the trip, he had spent hours upon hours working on the carving of a wolf’s head, Sigyn’s favorite animal, to give to her upon his return. Milla’s cat had been something of an afterthought. Still, he hadn’t been able to hide his smile at the way she squealed in delight when he presented it to her, and Sigyn had seemed more touched by the fact that he thought of her sister than at her own gift.

“Has it worked for you?” he asked.

“I think so,” Milla said, running her finger across the cat’s ear. “Good things happen when I wear it.”

Loki laughed bitterly. He could use a bit of that now. “Have good things happened today?”

She didn’t look up. “I’m still waiting to find out.”

A silence fell over the two of them, heavy and stiff. He wondered what Sigyn was doing, if she was still hiding in her room as her sister claimed. She had been waiting for him that morning, ready to push him out into the hall with shaking hands the moment he arrived at her doorstep. He knew immediately that she had been crying—if her swollen eyes weren’t enough of a giveaway, then the little hiccupping gasps that peppered her words certainly were.

“You can’t be here right now,” she had hissed. “If Father sees you, he’ll lose his mind!”

“What happened?”

“Sverrir made an offer for my hand. My father—Loki, he accepted.”

It had taken a moment for those words to sink in. When they had, he had demanded to speak with her father.

“Loki—”

“He can’t do this! He can’t sell you off like cattle—”

Only he could, and they both knew it.

“Prince Loki?” He turned away from his thoughts and back to Milla. She was looking up at him with wide eyes, her voice suddenly very small. “Is Sigyn going to marry Sverrir?”

Loki found he couldn’t answer. There was a threatening lump in the back of his throat, making him unwilling to trust his voice. Sigyn … she was always supposed to marry him. He had been sure of it from the moment he met her, back when they were taking their lessons together. He had pretended to trip when walking by her desk and spilled his potion all over the floor just to have an excuse to talk to her. Thor had rolled his eyes when he heard of it (“could you not just speak to her like a normal person?”), but Sigyn had laughed and offered to help him clean it up, just like the angel she was. And when class ended, he offered to walk her back to her apartment.

Sigyn had smiled, that shy little smile she seemed to reserve for only him. “I’d be honored, my prince.”

Loki was smitten.

And now he was heartbroken.

“You know she doesn’t want to marry him, right?” Milla asked, tugging at his sleeve. “She doesn’t even like him.”

Loki inhaled. “Marriage isn’t just about who you like.” Sigyn had explained this to him just now in the hallway. Her family may have been prestigious in her great-grandfather’s heyday, but a series of poor investments and bad choices had set them on a steady decline. Her marriage to Sverrir would secure their position permanently. Her father would condemn her to a life of loneliness to maintain their status. And Sigyn would accept it, because she was far too good a person to refuse. “You have to think about your future, and your family, and Sverrir is a prince—”

“But you’re a prince too!”

“I don’t have a throne.” Loki sighed. He had never been jealous of Thor’s position as Crown Prince, not really—kingship came with hundreds of little hinderances and headaches that Loki was perfectly content to live without. But if he could stand before Sigyn’s father, not as Odin’s forgotten son but as Asgard’s future ruler … well, he wouldn’t be having to stomach discussion about some Vanir prince, that was for sure.

Milla yanked on his sleeve even harder. “But Sigyn loves you.”

Loki’s eyes widened. “She told you that?”

“No.” She said. “But I know she does. She reads your poems every night before she goes to bed.”

He flushed crimson. “Does she?” Oh, those poems. He had never considered himself to be much of a poet, but there was a soft sense of familiarity in words that he had never found anywhere else. And Sigyn … how could one not write about Sigyn?

He never had the courage to read them to her in person, silly, romantic things that they were. Instead he kept to leaving them hidden in spots where only she would find them—wrapped up in her napkin at dinner, buried in her bag at the healing ward, slipped into her dress pocket as they danced. She never said anything about them to him, but he lived for the way she’d squeeze his hand after he passed one to her.

Milla nodded, grinning. “She has them all in a little book, and she keeps it under her pillow.” Loki smiled too at the image, just for a moment, but then reality came crashing back down. She could hold on to as many poems as he could write—it still wouldn’t change anything. He buried his face in his hands once more.

He felt another tug at his sleeve, and he turned to find himself face-to-face with a creased brow. “You love her too, don’t you?” Milla asked. “That’s why you’re so upset.”

Loki huffed. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does! It has too!” she insisted, shaking his arm. “You can make it matter.”

“Make it matter?” Suddenly, looking at her there, with her braids and her “good luck” charms and her childish hope was too much to bear. “What would you have me do?” he snapped. “Kidnap your sister?”

Milla flinched. “No … But—”

“There isn’t any ‘but.’ Your father will never allow her to settle for me when there’s a superior option. My father will never care enough to intervene on my behalf.” Norns knew he had tried. But Odin had nothing to gain from a marriage between Loki and Sigyn, and if Odin had nothing to gain, he saw no reason to act. “It’s useless to pretend otherwise. Now are you just going to sit here and bother me all day or do you have somewhere else to be?”

She gulped, abandoning her place besides him on the bench. “I’m sorry, your Highness. I’ll go.” Loki watched her slink off back towards the palace, head down like a whipped pup. Somehow, he felt even worse.

…

Dinner was miserable.

Loki picked at his food out of a sense of courtesy, with no real appetite to be found. How could he eat, when four seats to his right Sverrir was regaling his audience with descriptions of his perfect bride-to-be? The prince hadn’t yet mentioned Sigyn by name, but he didn’t have to. Loki could see the way his gaze lingered on her table as he described her “perfect form.”

It made him sick.

He had still barely touched his meal by the time many of the merrymakers had moved to the dance floor. Sverrir had gone, too—Loki watched him practically slither across the room to Sigyn’s side to ask her for a dance, watched Sigyn’s nearly imperceptible nod in assent. Now, they commanded the whole of the floor, gliding through the steps as flawlessly as a couple could, Sverrir grinning ear to ear and Sigyn the epitome of quiet repose.

Loki wished he could return to his rooms. He didn’t want to sit there, watching his heart spin and twirl in the hands of another man. But he couldn’t seem to rip his gaze away from her. Her sea-blue skirt matched Sverrir’s cape as it twisted about her, giving her the appearance of some sort of oceanic goddess. He wanted to hate the color, but of course it was beautiful on her. Everything was beautiful on her.

“Prince Loki!”

He was startled out of his despondent silence by the child shrieking his name. Loki barely had the chance to turn around before Milla was upon him, grabbing at his arm and trying to pull him to his feet.

He frowned. “What are you doing up here?”

“Come on!” She yanked at his cape. “You have to dance with Sigyn.”

Wary of making a scene, and too flustered to push her away, Loki stood. “Milla, I—”

“You have to,” she insisted, giving him a push towards the dance floor. “Go! Dance with her!”

He stumbled forward, but the little girl kept corralling him down the podium stairs, towards Sigyn and her aggravating prince.

“Milla!” he hissed. “Can’t you see she’s already dancing with someone?”

“Who cares?” she hissed back, shoving him again. “Dance with her!”

And so Loki made his way down to the dance floor, cheeks burning, holding himself with as much dignity as one could after a literal child herded them like a sheep away from their meal. Luckily, few in the the ballroom seemed to be paying him any mind.

One of the positives of being the forgotten son, he supposed.

Sverrir and Sigyn were in the middle of the floor, still wrapped up in the music. At least, Sverrir was. Sigyn was holding herself as if someone had strapped a wooden board down her back. He couldn’t remember a time where he had seen her so tense. The sight made Loki stiffen.

With a sudden burst of confidence, he tapped on the Vanir prince’s shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said, not bothering to hide the tightness in his voice. “Would you mind if I cut in?”

Sverrir started. “Oh. Uh—” he glanced back at Sigyn. “Do you mind, darling?”

She shook her head, features still perfectly neutral. Only then did Loki notice that, while she was wearing blue, the ribbons weaved through her braids were emerald green.

“Oh!” Sverrir seemed surprised, but quickly shook it off. “Well, then, of course not!” He stepped aside, making a grand gesture towards Sigyn as Loki took his place in her arms with a rigid nod.

For a moment, they only stared at each other, slowly swaying to the notes of the waltz in silence. Sigyn looked away first, turning to watch her feet on floor as if she were a girl in pigtails still learning to dance.

Loki swallowed the desert on his tongue. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Well enough, I suppose,” she murmured. When she looked up again, her eyes were glossy, her features twisted in an attempt to hold back the tears. “Loki—I’m sorry.”

There was a lump in the back of his throat. He wished he could hold her to his chest, cup her cheek and promise her that everything was fine. Instead, he only shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I just …” She inhaled. “I wish things were different.”

Don’t we both?

“Is he kind to you at least?” he asked. He would at least be able to rest easier knowing that Sigyn was well cared for, and as irritating as Sverrir was, Loki had never seen anything to suggest that he was cruel. Although … he almost wished Sverrir was a beast of a man—horrible, vicious, barbarous— just so he could have another reason to despise him.

Sigyn shrugged. “He talks a lot.”

“Oh? About what?”

“Absolutely nothing!” she cried. “I’ve never heard of a man who could go on so long without a single thing to say. It makes my head ache.” Sigyn sighed. “But Father finds him interesting.”

Loki scoffed. “Your father would be fascinated by grass growing.”

She laughed. “Probably.”

They danced in silence for a while longer. He liked the silence—the soft, soothing movement was almost enough to make him forget why this night was different from every other he had spent dancing with her. But soon enough, the song came to an end, and he made ready to bid her farewell.

A familiar voice cleared his throat, rasping across the hall. The hum of conversation stopped as everyone turned to face the royal podium, where Prince Sverrir stood, smiling over the masses.

“Ladies and gentleman, if I may have your attention!” he called. “I would like to make an announcement.”

“Here we go,” whispered Sigyn. She reached out to grasp Loki’s hand.

When the crowd thronged around the podium had appeared to reach a size to his liking, Sverrir continued.

“As many of you know,” he said. “My father’s health has been failing for the past several months, and he has voiced that it is his greatest wish to see me married before he passes. Therefore, I am overjoyed to announce my engagement to one of your very own Asgardian ladies—” He stretched his hand out towards Sigyn, grinning widely as the rest of the nobles whipped around to follow his gaze. “The lovely Lady Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir!”

The ballroom erupted into applause. Sigyn sighed, but quickly masked it with a gracious smile, letting go of Loki’s hand in order to make her way to the podium.

To her fiancé.

Loki didn’t even think. When he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to his side, he was acting off pure instinct.

“That’s impossible!” he cried to the crowd, to Sverrir. “Completely impossible, your Highness. She can’t marry you.”

The applause fizzled out as quickly as it begun. Confused whispers began skating through the onlookers.

“Loki!” Sigyn hissed. “What are you doing?”

Above them all, Sverrir frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Prince Loki,” he said. “Lord Yngvarr had given me his permission, and Lady Sigyn has accepted. Why can I not marry her?”

Loki didn’t blink. “Because she’s already married to me.”

The crowd exploded into outraged gasps.

Besides him, a wicked grin was blooming across Sigyn’s face.

Sverrir seemed to have been rendered incapable of response. He stood stuttering on the podium, any words he did manage drowned out by the commotion of the entire court processing what was turning out to be even more of a scandal than the last time the Vanir prince came to visit.

Until finally one voice cut through the chaos.

“Liar!” yelled Yngvarr, pushing his way through the crowd. “My daughter would not betray her family in such a manner.” He turned back to Sverrir, fuming. “Your Highness, I’m afraid Prince Loki seems to be playing a prank, and a decidedly unfunny one at that, at the expense of my daughter’s reputation.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest his offense, but before he could find the words, yet another voice joined the foray of madness.

“It’s not a prank, Daddy!” Milla grinned, materializing seemingly out of thin air to pull at her father’s sleeve. “It’s real! I heard them talking about it a week ago.”

Yngvarr whipped around so quickly that one of his whiskers caught on his shoulder plate. “What?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded. “Prince Loki came through the window! They were talking about how they were going to get married as soon as possible, because they love each other so much and they’re soulmates and … and …” she trailed off, seeming to only just be realizing that every pair of eyes in the ballroom was on her.

“And what?” snapped Yngvarr.

Sigyn stepped forward. “And I’m pregnant!”

The roar was deafening.

She turned back towards Loki with a smirk. He could only gape at her.

“What?” she asked. “Did you think I was going to let you have all the fun?”

Loki didn’t bother trying to find words. He just planted his lips on to hers. “I love you,” he whispered when he pulled away. He had never meant anything more in his life.

She laughed. “What now?”

“Well,” he said, grinning as he offered her his arm. “It seems we have to get married. After that—” he stopped abruptly. There was something in his pocket, something that he knew hadn’t been there before, bulky and solid. Frowning, he pulled it out to find the rough carving of a cat’s head tied to a loop of worn leather.

He looked up again in confusion. His eyes landed on Milla, beaming at him from across the room. She winked.

Good things happen when I wear it.

Loki smiled, slipping the charm back into his pocket. Next to him, Sigyn tugged at his arm.

“After that?” she repeated.

“After that?” he shrugged, smirking. “We improvise.”

#loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki x sigyn #funny little ups and downs #cozy writes

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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 years

Text

Verboten - Chapter Thirteen.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Visuals - The Verboten cast of characters post

Words - 2,437

Warnings - Bit of everything! Bit of angst, bit of fluff, LOTS of smut!

Tag list - In the comments! To be added/removed, please DM me :)

Chapter playlist - Goldfrapp - Black Cherry

‘I’m warning you right now, they’re hyperactive as fuck. I’ve literally only just got Seth to bed!’

‘That’s okay, I’m really looking forward to spending time with them. I’ll drive up too, if you like, if you wanna kip.’

‘You, driving my truck? GTFO!’

“Fucking charming!” Zoey snorted, forking in another mouthful of pasta, her very late 10pm dinner after being taken out for a business dinner with clients, being served chic and costly teeny tiny food, as she always referred to it as. Her belly required more sustenance, so she’d knocked up a quick plate of pasta with blue cheese and rocket upon at arrival at home.

‘Fine! Drive tired. I’m purposefully going to stay awake now so I get to sleep in the truck, SO THERE!’

‘Have at it if you think you can sleep over child noise.'

‘Fuck you!’

‘Oh, you will, as soon as the kids are asleep and we’re in the tent. Get to ours for 7am. G’night, tiny x.’

They were getting around the kids likely questioning by Zoey claiming to have forgotten her tent, making up two separate beds in Tyler’s large four berth one, the kids now at the age where they wanted their own. Besides, as Grace put it, he snored like an angry elephant. Sharing with daddy meant little to no sleep, or Tyler being pelted with stuffed animal toys until he turned over.

The last time they’d gone camping together, just six weeks into their affair, Zoey had snuck out of her tent and into his in the dead of night, banged the life out of him, had a quick cuddle and then snuck back. The thought of not getting to sleep next to one another all night didn’t sit well with them though; they just had to be very careful with the little ones around.

What had begun between them back in August was now about to enter its fourth month, December around the corner and summer arrived, Zoey excited that it meant lots of camping excursions, which she always loved, getting to spend quality time with her niece and nephew. It didn’t hurt that their amazing dad would be there as well.

Ella never went camping with them, swearing off it after having a spider crawl over her arm one morning, saying she was that shocked she’d almost gone into labour with Grace four month’s early, whom she was pregnant with at the time. Never again, she’d stuck to happily letting Zoey go in her place since.

It was only in recent weeks that she’d begun to feel guilt over her sister having no reason not to trust her going away for the weekend with her husband and two eldest children. No, of course, she had a big reason. All 6’3 of him, and the fact that whenever she could, she was on him, engulfed in the heat of their affair.

It had to be noted that more and more, though, when meeting in secret at her apartment, they wouldn’t always indulge in the carnal. Sometimes, they’d just hang out, sex wouldn’t be the sole focus of their time together, and it was lovely. Zoey knew she couldn’t put stock in it being anything more than it was, though. An affair, something with an expiration date. She’d felt dreamy about it after he’d left a note for her to read when she woke up a few weeks prior, but had quickly put those feelings away in the back of her mind, in a little box marked ‘do not open.’

It would go either of two ways; he would resolve his issues with Ella and she’d just have to get over it, or they’d go their separate ways, decide on a divorce and still, she’d just have to get over it. What they had, it couldn’t ever be out in the open, even if he was single, could it?

Could it?

It really and truly felt as if they were dating already sometimes, save it being in absolute secret. Then there was one afternoon they’d met up while Ella and the kids had been out with Cait, and he’d taken to a bar a two-hour drive away, where no one had known them. She’d sat in the sun, drinking beer in his arms, feeling enormously content and special. It felt real, just for that afternoon, like they were more, like they could be more.

Like they were meant to be more.

Whenever she thought of that, though, she pictured the hurt and destruction their affair would bring upon those they loved, and pretty soon, she’d think on it no more. Back into the do not open box it all went.

“You’re very quiet.” Except for the following morning as they drove out to D’Aguilar national park.

Turning to look back at him from the window, she smiled, briefly stroking Tyler’s forearm. The kids couldn’t see anything like that from the rear seats of the truck. Besides, both were welded to their iPad’s, headphones on, enjoying whatever it was that was keeping them nice and quiet. “Yeah, miles away, sorry.”

“I’d ask if it was a hard night, but I wasn’t there so I know it wasn’t.” He flashed her a grin and a wink, making her laugh. “It will be tonight, though!”

“You’re terrible.”

“You fuckin’ love it!”

“Auntie Zoey!” Grace suddenly shouted from the back, reaching her hand forward. “You want one?” It always cracked her up, the volume Grace would reach when she couldn’t hear herself over her headphones.

“Thank you!” She shouted back, taking one of the Haribo while Tyler shuddered. Anything with fizzy sugar on it turned his stomach. They drove for a further hour before arriving, setting up camp and relaxing in the sun while the kids played, before heading off for a bike ride, Zoey choosing to run instead.

While they followed the trail, they chatted chiefly about the new releases from bands they were into, artists such as Architects and Starset, the former they had tickets to go and see when they toured in a couple of months' time. As she ran, Zoey had to wonder just where they’d be by that point, because what they were doing, it definitely couldn’t remain this way for much longer, no matter what course it took.

Once the kids were asleep later that night, it was something they lay discussing, the situation that they’d gotten themselves into, and what, from Tyler’s perspective, had caused him to look elsewhere in the first place.

“I feel sad, you know, beneath being pissed off. I used to be so happy with her and now, it’s just gone. I don’t understand why she’s being so distant; I really don’t get it. She’s so fucking nasty with her mouth, too. Just the other night I got called out for everything under the sun because I was late home from the gym. She’s not the woman I remember marrying. Sorry, I shouldn’t be unloading to you of all people, not now that we’re...”

He raised his eyebrows whilst pointing between them, referencing the sexual connection.

“It’s still me, you know. You can still talk to me, strange as this entire situation may be. I’m still your friend, Tyler. You poking your dick in me on the regular hasn’t changed that.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Such eloquence.”

“I sensed you needed the humour.” She was right, he did. She was very intuitive with what he seemed to need, something which extended far beyond the sexual. “So, what are you thinking, going forward? Pretend this isn’t even happening, in fact, don’t even factor in our affair. What are you going to do? You can’t continue like this.”

He sighed, wishing he didn’t have to factor that in. He did, though. Zoey had a place in all of this too, how the future panned out. She couldn’t not, in his mind.

“Leave, I think. As much as I don’t want to break up my family, I can’t stay just for the kids. I watched that ruin my parents, staying together for me, Charlie and Lizzie. If dad hadn’t of died when he did, it would only have gotten worse, and we all felt it, the hostility and resentment because they were only staying together for us. I don’t want that for mine.

“If Ella can’t even admit there’s an issue, then we can’t fix it, and that - as much as I’ve hoped it’ll get better - is a hell I don’t want to remain in. As for not factoring in what’s going between us, that isn’t an option.” Taking a deep breath, he knew he had to come out with it. “I’ve developed feelings for you, Zo, and I think you have for me too. So yeah, you do factor into all of this, because I can’t discount the way I feel when I’m with you.”

There it was, the truth. They couldn’t deny it any longer. It might not have been love, but it was more than sex that existed between them.

“You’re right, I do.” Pausing from their dialogue, they felt into a kiss, Tyler making her hum happily into his mouth when he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “So, you’re telling me you want to leave my sister for me?” Such a thought suddenly left her feeling a little short of breath.

“I don’t know what the hell I want, babe. For you and the kids not to be hurt in our mess, most importantly. Telling people about us will tear the family apart, it’ll permanently change your relationship with your sisters, Ella especially, obviously. I think it’d be best if I get myself out of the house, find somewhere to rent, make sure the transition from us being parents together to parents singly goes as smoothly as possible for the kids, and then once all of that is settled, we’ll tell everyone.

“I know it wouldn’t be honest, dating in secret, but it’s the least messy way we can try and get through this, even though we’re the guilty parties here. I’ve spent weeks trying to justify it, you know, cheating on Ella. No matter how cold she’s been to me, though, she never deserved any of this, for me to be unfaithful with you.”

He was right. It was undeniable that they were the ones who were in the wrong, not her.

“Will you tell her that we began while you were still with her?”

He sighed, scratching his beard. “I dunno. Me being with you is likely to blow a big enough hole in her world as it is. Finding out we started while I was still married to her would be needlessly cruel a blow to deal, no matter that I know she deserves honesty.”

“Yeah, I mean I know there’d be people that would state it’s something we can’t keep from her, but I’m prepared to have a little feeling of rottenness within just to save her that extra hurt. She’ll hate me enough as it is, and I’m prepared for that. I deserve that, but I don’t want to hurt her more than I need to, than we need to.”

The feeling of his hand stroking her back was comforting, her nakedness warmed against his as they watched the moon through the small gap where he hadn’t quite done up the tent zip. Everything was so peaceful, but they knew that going forward, what they had to reveal would change things forever. The peace would be shattered.

“You make me really happy, you know.” Turning his head, he kissed her forehead, Zoey cuddling into him more. Hearing that from him made it worth the heartache she knew was ahead. She couldn’t deny, it was all very scary though, so much so that she no longer wanted to discuss it. They’d said all that needed to be said on the matter. Instead, with kisses that escalated in heat rapidly, she turned to a tactic that would definitely take both their minds off the subject.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m needed south of these perfect abs. I’ve been dying to suck this long, fat cock all day.” Vanishing beneath the blankets, her lips descended, her tongue licking the tip of his erection, making it bob aggressively against her chin, her mouth closing around the head and giving him a firm suck, his hips trembling in response.

Sliding her lips down, she kept him nestled in her mouth, his length touching her throat, curses fluttering from his lips as she pulsed hers around the base of his shaft, dragging back up again slowly. She’d never taken him that deep before out of fear of gagging, Tyler impressed, his fingers combing through her dark tresses, holding them away from her face as he watched himself disappear into her throat once more.

His groans were thick, head thudding back as his eyelids fluttered. “Fuck, babe. You give the best head.”

“Why thank you. I’m starting to get used to it now, having something the size of a table leg in my mouth.” He snorted softly with laughter, winking as she flicked her tongue back and forth over the tip of his hardness, her mouth swallowing him whole once more. Her head bobbed up and down, tightening her lips around him, her fingers stroking swirls across his tremoring flesh, her slit beginning to become aqueous with the need to have him inside of her.

“You need to stop being so damn good with your mouth and get on me before I cum.” He rasped, Zoey moving to sit astride him immediately.

Their kisses were hot and messy, fuelled by desire, quiet moans muffled, Tyler hissing in bliss when she reached to grasp him, rubbing his cock against her slick folds, splitting herself on him, hard heat filling her completely. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, moving gently up into her with a steady roll of his hips, his hands weaving into her hair as they kissed madly.

His fingers moved between them to meet her clit, rubbing with firm precision, Zoey gasping at the biting spark ignited, nipping at his neck.

“Oi, careful with those teeth, feisty. Remember when she saw that one you left on my neck?” Of course, she remembered, the timing of it happening after Tyler had been involved in crowd control after a football match, already being injured because of it facilitating the perfect excuse to explain the bite mark to Ella.

“You love it when I bite, though.”

“I do, but fuck, Zo. We have to be so careful.”

She knew that, but it was like her brain was suddenly getting ahead of itself, knowing that there might be a time to come where she could do that, because he’d be hers. Clicking her thinking back to the moment, she drove against him with thorough undulations, moving her hips in a hypnotic figure of eight, having Tyler groaning helplessly against her neck, panting like an animal in heat, his fingers faster as her bud.

He fucked up into her ferociously, Zoey clinging on around him as fire began to lick her spine, a rush of pleasure blooming as he kissed a constellation across her chest and neck. The fever engulfed her, the slick heat of her inner walls gripping him, his staccato thrusts tipping him over with the quietest of grunts, his hardness pulsing within her fluttering twinges as he drowned her walls with cum.

Being so quiet was an absolute must while the kids were in such close proximity, that one time the only sexual happening between them all weekend because of that. However, once they’d returned home on the Sunday morning, Tyler having to head to work for the day, by the time the night came and he visited Zoey, it was vastly different.

“So, when you gonna let me stick my cock right here, then?” He asked, Zoey standing in front of where he sat on the end of the bed, bend double at he ran his tongue through her slit, his middle finger entering her bum.

“I’m not! You’re too big and it’s scary!” she giggled, a moan of pleasure spilling from her lips as he added a second finger, stretching her out.

He laughed softly, used to that response. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. “Well, I can promise you I’ll be very gentle and if you still don’t like it, I’ll stop. How about that?”

The idea of taking him anally, while scary, did have a certain element of excitement to it, to see if her body was capable of such a feat. “Okay, but I want to get fucked hard where your tongue is right now first!”

“That’s exactly what I’m planning on, gorgeous.”

“I want to film it on my phone as well.” Immediately, his eyebrows raised exponentially. He loved how filthy she was.

“I’ll go and get your phone.” She couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he shot off the bed, heading down the stairs and returning with another item as well. “It suddenly came to me that in my near seven years on the force, I’ve never used these outside of work. And I should.”

Seeing him swing his cuffs around on his finger, Zoey bit her lip with delight. “Oh, am I about to be restrained, constable?”

“That’s senior constable to you.” She couldn’t help but grin and giggle naughtily, kissing him hotly as he secured one of the cuffs around her wrist, Tyler then taking her to the mezzanine rail and threading her hand through a gap, cuffing the other to the other side and giving her a hard slap on the bum. “Bend.”

“Mmmm, yes, sir.” She loved it when he was dominant with her. It made her tingly all over to hear that balefulness in his voice. It also reminded her of something Paris once said, that she’d entertain breaking the law in blatant fashion and then fleeing the scene very, very slowly in order to have Tyler arrest her. Zoey now identified heavily with this; except she didn’t need to resort to law breaking in order to be cuffed by him.

He set up her phone on her nearby dresser, walking back over to her to crouch behind, continuing to fuck her with his tongue while his hand stroked himself to hardness, big muscles cording in his arm, his other hand spanking her as arousal shot through him, imagining watching the video later, while he was railing her again.

Standing up, he pushed into her deep with a satisfying squelch, her dew bathing his shaft in a slippery sheen. The purr of pleasure she made caused sparks to skitter through him, giving himself slow and deep to begin with, her beautiful skin awash with goosepimples as he stroked her back, bending to plant heated, open-mouthed kisses up her spine.

She lost herself in the incandescence of it all, his long, thick cock splitting her wide, grazing her walls, her body tremoring in response to such exquisite stimulation. It was too much, but equally not enough, the handcuffs around her wrists clattering as her delicate fingers curled to grasp the rail bannisters.

“Harder.”

“Eventually.”

“Tyler!”

“You’re in no position to command me. Behave yourself.”

She whined in response, tightening her slick muscles around him, pushing back against him as her body demanded more stimulation. “Don’t be a brat.” He warned, spanking her so hard, tears welled in her eyes, his hands moving to gather her silky hair, smoothing it back into a ponytail he wrapped around his fist, yanking her head until her back arched like a bowstring.

The continued slow drag of his many inches made her bloom, pleasure glittering through her, her nipples tight and pebbled, her red raw backside spanked hard again, evoking a wanton growl she had trouble realising came from her. Heat sizzled through her, her need for him to give her more blinding, grumbling with frustration as she begged him.

“Shush, no more noise. Be quiet until you’re told not to be.”

“Tyler, please!”

Spank. ‘Fuck, that hurt so much!’

“I said quiet.”

Her heart somersaulted in her chest, his dominance causing glimmers to flood her veins, her cunt virtually melting around his cock, glossing him thickly. She bit her lip to prevent further noise, closing her eyes tightly, taking it, the divine torture of each slow thrust.

He kept her simmering like that for what felt like an eternity, before gradually increasing the speed, pounding into her before long.

“Now you can speak.” It wasn’t even speech. It was a wail, primal and ear splitting as he fucked her savagely. “Like it when I’m rough with you, don’t you? Bad girl.”

“Yes, oh god, it feels like you’re gonna go through me!”

“But you love it.” His assertion was, of course, correct.

More hard spanks followed, Zoey’s eyes watering as she cried out without reserve, her voice hoarse as magmatic heat pulsed throughout her. It only increased further when after pulling out, he crouched behind her again, his tongue taking a long, firm swipe at her, circling at the puckered muscle of her anus as he spread her cheeks, tongue pushing inside.

She shook all over at the sensations, added to by his thumb beginning to circle her clit, her moans unreserved, Tyler pausing to bite her bum cheek before continuing. He attended to her with his mouth a while longer before moving to the side of her bed, pulling out her box of toys and removing the bottle of lube he’d remembered seeing in there, dousing his hand and cock.

Once again, two fingers snaked into her narrow passage, scissoring and working her wide, his hardness snugly pulsed by her inner walls as he dragged her cunt. Feeling her beginning to yield, he pulled out, removing his fingers and pushing for entrance, her body stiffening.

“Relax, baby.” The glide of his hand down her spine, eliciting tingles, made her untense, taking deep breaths as she felt him inching into her, just the head of his cock at first, getting her used to being stretched that wide. “Good?”

Her response was a little squeak he couldn’t quite gauge, his gentle ascension a little further in prompting a soft moan, signalling to him she was fine for the moment. A few inches forth, a few back, shallow thrusts to get her accustomed, Tyler feeling like his heart was about to crack a rib with how hard it thundered in his chest.

‘Do not blow your load, do not blow your load!’ His thoughts repeated like a mantra, edging in a little deeper, bending to lay swirls of his tongue and scattered kisses from one shoulder to the other, reaching beneath her to stroke her tits and pinch at her pebbled nipples. He held back, even though his loins burned, embers stoked, his mind foggy with lust, her soft little cries almost too much for him to withstand.

Resting her forehead to the cool, white wood of the rail she was cuffed to, Zoey felt the lightning begin to bounce through her as with a reached hand, her clit was rubbed rhythmically, his cock speeding up, everything escalating to one of the most mind melting, delicious finishes she’d ever felt, her orgasm cracking through her like the ice breaking upon a frozen lake, Tyler pulling out to shoot trails of cum all over her back.

After showering together, she stood in his arms at the door, wishing he could stay as he kissed her good night.

“I’ll see you Wednesday, even though I really don’t want to leave,” he confessed, hands bracketing her face as he kissed her again.

“I don’t want you to either! I’ll miss you.”

“Miss you too, baby. G’night.” Another kiss exchanged, Tyler opening the door and holding onto her hand right until the last moment before he turned, feeling like he was leaving a part of himself there with her.

As he drove home, he knew it was time he truly be honest with himself. Zoey was the one who made him happy, not his wife any longer. He owed it to all parties now to finally sit Ella down and tell her that he wanted out of their marriage. He couldn’t break her by revealing it was her sister he wanted to be with, but he knew he couldn’t keep up what was waiting for him back home, a cold, affectionless relationship, feeling unloved and resented by her.

All of this would be a lot harder if she was still invested in their marriage, but then he reasoned it she was, he wouldn’t have looked for what he was lacking elsewhere, wouldn’t have developed feelings for her sister, but that wasn’t to say any of it was Ella’s fault. The blame for his straying solely laid with him. He just knew that now, it was time to let himself out of it.

He couldn’t go on like this. None of them could go on like this.

Coming into the house, he was glad to find her still awake, changing out of his uniform in the laundry room and pulling on a fresh sleeveless t shirt and sweats, padding through to the lounge.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re home at a decent hour. Tyler, I need to talk to you. Sit down.”

He wasn’t the only one with things on his mind that night, it seemed.

24 notes · View notes

vhsrights · 3 years

Note

Ever since I saw them posts about JJ have short hair??? Like a pixie cut??? Wanna do me a solid and tell me your thoughts on Emily’s first (and maybe subsequent) reaction when JJ walks into the bullpen? Assuming they’re not together already.

OH OH BRILLIANT THOUGHT WHILE IM WRITING THIS: JJ with short hair AND a leather jacket. I feel like PG definitely had a hand in this new change in JJ...

for sure i gotchu! :) this was one that i have been wanting to do for a while. (edit: so i know that you only asked for my thoughts but i got really excited and into it so i turned it into an OS) <3

Dashing

Pairing: Pre Jemily - talked about

WC: 4.8k words

Summary: JJ with short hair, and what it does to Emily :) [bullpen and team night out version; pre jemily] (like a prelude to gnc jj)

It happened on a Thursday afternoon. JJ had been shaking all day, but Penelope had convinced her that it would be okay. The blonde locks that she had been identified with for so long felt even heavier against her shoulders. She made sure to stay hidden away in her office, thanking her lucky stars that they were off case rotation. Her fingers consistently found themselves back into her hair, twisting and twirling them relentlessly. If JJ could have simply willed her long hair away, she would have. She restlessly twirled the pen in her hand for several hours, making little headway on the mountain of files by her. Her eyes kept darting over to the screen of her computer monitor, feverishly checking and rechecking the time.

5:45 pm. That was when the appointment was set for. JJ wished that she would be able to simply forget about it until then. Maybe if she did, she would actually get more work done. She texted Penelope, who was out for coffee on a break, to get her some too. Soon after she got the caffeine, JJ was able to shut out the rest of her thoughts. The boost alone drove her to finish files at triple her previous rate. Maybe that was also the adrenaline. Her phone broke her trance-like consciousness when it began to beep incessantly. She had set an alarm to go off 45 minutes before her appointment, enough time for her to wrap up at the office and calm her nerves before she made the short 10-minute drive to the barbershop.

Feeling her heart pound harder in her chest, JJ sat back in her chair to ground herself. She decided that getting up before she had a grip on her emotions was not a good idea. JJ let her eyes close gently and her mind began to wander. In her head, JJ saw the faces of those that she had met as this version of herself. They had all changed her, for better or for worse, and the memories began to flow in. It started with her mother and father. They had given a life that she couldn’t have been more appreciative of in the early years, forgoing the memories of harsh words and other negative acts. Moving on quickly, the next face flashed before her eyes. Roslyn.

Her sister had been her saving grace before JJ could even comprehend the idea. JJ had always looked up to the girl. Roslyn was phenomenal and JJ could only imagine how far she would have made it if she had still been alive. Roslyn was the one that had taught JJ how to braid her hair, wash it, and even curl it. Roslyn had curled her long blonde hair for the first time when she watched her get ready for the homecoming dance. It had only been one clump of strands but the way that her sister had so gently handled her locks left JJ in awe of Roslyn’s caring nature. After Roslyn left, JJ held onto her hairstyle, scared to let go of it as it sometimes felt like her only tie to her older sister.

Her college best friends, partners in the Academy, Hotch, Reid, Rossi, and so many more came and left in her thoughts. It was like her thoughts were forming their own little presentation of what JJ was getting rid of today. Some had more important roles than others but she had to remind herself that today wasn’t getting rid of anything but her hair. She was still JJ, but this felt more real. She wouldn’t have to avert her eyes in the mirror as much, and it would help to match her appearance more closely to how she felt inside.

Eventually, her mind came to the inevitable. Emily. Emily was something to JJ that she couldn’t describe. JJ loved Emily, but it wasn’t just that. Over time, as she had gotten to know the woman, JJ had come to truly understand her. It was the kind of intimacy that relied on the briefest of eye contact, all thoughts conveyed in body language alone. She couldn’t tell Emily though. It was too risky, and no matter how bold JJ was, Emily was a whole new world. She pushed away the thought that Emily would hate her haircut. If Emily rejected the haircut, it would feel more like she rejected who JJ truly was. But she would never do that. Right?

No, Emily would never do that. She couldn’t, because then JJ didn’t know what she’d do. Trying to distract herself from the increasing anxiety, she tried to remember their Girl’s Nights and separate hangouts where Emily would mindlessly run her fingers through JJ’s hair. It was how she calmed JJ, and the experience itself felt like home to the blonde. Glancing down at her watch, JJ realized that she got a bit too tied up with her imagination and saw that it was 5:25. Grabbing her things in a frenzy, JJ quickly headed out of the bullpen. She caught a glance of Morgan, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. JJ waved the team off, not slowing down on her way to the elevator. Hotch already knew that she was taking the early day so she was set.

JJ shot a text off to Garcia before driving off, telling her to check her office for anything that JJ might have forgotten and that she was going to her apartment after the haircut. Throwing her phone into the passenger seat, JJ drummed her fingers against the steering as she pulled out of the parking lot. She drove to the barbershop and reached in 7 minutes. Emily and her crazy driving skills would have been proud. Exiting the door rather quickly, JJ ran her fingers through her hair one last time.

This was goodbye.

She fidgeted with her fingers the entire time she waited for her appointment. JJ rocked her body gently, forward and backward, grounding herself in the steady rhythm. After some time, a person wearing a short-sleeved, cuffed button-down and a large black apron approached her. Their hair was cropped short, the sides shaved to a small length to let the top flow over their forehead. It was perfectly what JJ wanted. She felt her face grow hot at the realization that this was actually happening. JJ was going to do the big chop.

“Hi, Welcome to the Queer Barbers’ Guild. My name is Tay and I can help you today. JJ, isn’t it?” Tay held out their hand as JJ stood up, initiating their quick handshake.

“Uh, yeah. I had said over the phone that I wanted to cut most of my hair off. Actually, I would like exactly what you have. If that works?” JJ took quick strides to keep up with the barber, hearing the bustle of the shop as they got closer to the chair.

Tay chuckled, nodded, and gestured for JJ to sit in the seat. They pumped up its height, adjusting it to their work position. She sat down eagerly, feeling energized as the moment of the cut drew nearer.

“So are you looking to do a wash first today? I can definitely do my cut on you, so it’s just whatever you want. I would have to say though, I think you’re going to look rather dashing.” JJ blushed and failed to respond.

Dashing. Not pretty.

“I haven’t washed my hair in a few days for this haircut, so that would be nice. Thank you.”

JJ sat back in the chair and let Tay drape the apron cover over her. They combed through her hair slowly, getting tassels out and examining it for the cut. Once it was all brushed out, they measured out lengths and showed them to JJ in the mirror. JJ soon came to an idea of what she wanted.

Tay led her out of the chair and over the washing room. She sat down and made herself comfortable. JJ tried to solidify those last few moments in her head as the last memories she had with her long hard. The warm water began to run over her scalp and she forgot what else was running through her head. Before she knew it, the wash was over and she was back in the hair cut chair.

Now was the time.

They dried her hair and combed through it again. JJ closed her eyes. She was scared of what would happen. What if it wasn’t right? How would she undo the damage? She then felt a chilled glass against her fingers. Slowly peeking one eye open, she spotted some kind of alcohol in Tay’s outstretched hand. Curious, JJ looked up at the barber.

“To calm your nerves. Don’t worry, I’ve done plenty of these chops myself and I had my own. Trust me, things are only going to get better from here. So, here’s to relaxing. You earned it.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.” JJ couldn’t explain her gratitude as she took the glass.

Maybe everything would be okay.

JJ relaxed and Tay began to gather her hair for the big chop. Tay carefully sectioned her hair, making sure to constantly check the length. Then, the time came. Tay lightly tapped her on the shoulder, indicating that they had the scissors at the ready. All they needed was the go-ahead from JJ. The blonde took in one last deep breath, giving them permission on her exhale.

The first cut was the most jarring. JJ could feel the hair being cut, its strands tugging at the sharp shears. She let out a gasp and everything happened too quickly for her to process after that. The hair fell left and right, leaving her head feeling instantly lighter and freer.

Tay worked incredibly efficiently. They managed to keep checking in with JJ as they deftly cut her hair. Soon, it was gone. The buzz of the razor sent a jolt up JJ’s spine but Tay quickly reassured her. They made light passes and cut down the hair on the sides and back. It was still nearly half an inch long, but that was exactly what JJ wanted.

“There you go. All done, JJ. What do you think?” Their voice cut through the haze of JJ’s thoughts and she turned her head, examining her new look.

The long hair was gone.

JJ had short hair now. It felt like a high, like one she’d never felt before but would never let up again. She ran her fingers through it, marveling at the softness and sleek nature of the look. She looked pretty fucking dashing. JJ turned around and looked at Tay, struggling to keep her tears at bay. She shouldn’t be on the verge of crying. JJ chastised herself internally.

“I- I don’t really have the words to thank you right now. I know that I shouldn’t be so emotional over a haircut, but you made everything perfect.” JJ held her head down, trying to hold back the tears.

“Of course. It’s no problem. For the emotions, believe me, I was a sobbing mess when I got my first big chop. You can always ask for me when you come to the Guild. Thanks for coming, and we can go up to the front for payment now.”

JJ paid and left the establishment. She was still dazed, not sure if everything was real. Her fingers found their way back into her hair several times, simply running through it as she made her way to the car. Her watch showed 7:03 pm as the time and JJ pulled out her phone. Her fingers quivered as she typed out her text to Penelope. She didn’t want to text her friend a picture of herself, deciding to keep the hair a surprise until she arrived at Penelope’s apartment.

Jayje (7:03 PM): Got the haircut. Pen this feels fucking crazy. I almost cried in the shop because of how nice my barber was and how I look. Heading over now.

PG (7:03 PM): AHHHH im so excited for you!! i already know that you look hot as fuck babes.

JJ smiled and set her stuff aside. She was off to Penelope’s apartment. The analyst had told her that she had a surprise for her.

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

JJ pulled up to the analyst’s apartment. The sun was still high in the sky outside, and she could hear the chirp of several little birds off in the distance. Penelope was waiting for her. Taking one last deep breath, JJ walked towards the front door. It was part of a little archway to a quaint apartment but it could have been the door to the White House with how nervous JJ was.

She shivered as she rang the doorbell. Here goes nothing. Reaction number one, how bad can it be? Penelope had already been anticipating JJ’s arrival so the door flew open mere seconds later. She appeared in the doorway, beaming with energy. Then she laid her eyes on JJ.

“OH. MY. GOD. JAYJE. YOU LOOK AMAZING.” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the sight of JJ.

Penelope dragged JJ into the apartment faster than the blonde could respond to her statement. She was bubbling with excitement, super ready to give JJ her present. Penelope began to give a preface before they reached her couch. On it, sat a medium-sized silver bag. Tissue was popping out of the top and JJ was drawn to it. Penelope noticed her eyes on the present.

“Go ahead. Open it. I got it for you because I think it definitely matches your new vibe and that you ARE wearing it to team drinks tomorrow. Emily won’t be able to take her eyes off of you!”

JJ paused.

“What does Emily have to do with this?” She looked back at Penelope, her forehead scrunched in confusion.

“You’re joking, right? You can’t seriously ignore the tension between you two. It’s Miss Darking and Brooding and The Badass Baby Blonde. You two are a power couple! Unless, you aren’t madly in love with her and would be fine with me setting her up with this other friend of mine…”

“Okay, okay. No setting Emily up with your friend. She’s mine, thank you very much.” JJ spoke confidently, knowing that Penelope could see right through her bravado.

“I’m sure she is. That’s why you asked her out. Oh, wait…”

“Fine, so I haven’t asked her out. I’m just terrified. She’s Emily.”

“Yeah, and you’re JJ. Plus, now you have that super butch look so you can ask her out tomorrow. But not until you open the gift!” Penelope pointed at the glossy bag once more.

JJ rolled her eyes and turned back to the bag. She slowly pulled out the tissue and spotted dark fabric underneath it. Reaching inside, it was cool to the touch. JJ pulled out a black, leather jacket. It was sleek with 4 zippers, 2 collar buttons, and seams that traced around the jacket.

JJ thumbed it and fell more and more in love with it as she took in the jacket more. It was perfect. This jacket, combined with the haircut and the way that Tay complimented her earlier, felt like an amalgamation of the person that she was supposed to be. JJ wasn’t the girl that hid behind her femininity and used it as a weapon to get her way. In fact, her femininity did more against her than it did for her. Pushing that thought out of her head, JJ turned to Penelope.

With tears in her eyes, she hugged Penelope. She hugged her with all her might. She couldn’t describe the feeling in her head. Later, she would come to find out that it was gender euphoria. But in that moment, every positive emotion felt weak in comparison to the explosion of happiness in her mind.

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

JJ had opted for her pantsuit for work on Friday. Her normal skirt suits just didn’t fit who she saw herself as in the moment. Whether that would change or not, she didn’t know. It felt powerful, and with her hair coiffed up, JJ was unstoppable.

The elevator doors dinged open and she hesitantly took her first step. The big glass doors of the BAU seemed daunting now, and it made JJ feel small. She felt insignificant and her breath partially caught in her throat. Looking over at her watch, JJ realized that she was almost late. Deciding that the time to wait was over, JJ took confident strides forward. She pushed the doors open and made her way to her office until something stopped her.

Derek’s voice boomed out in front of her. Reid and the rest of the BAU men were sitting at his desk and their eyes lifted up to meet hers. It took all of JJ’s strength not to turn on her heel and bolt. But she loved this haircut, and it made her confident; so she had to act like it. Slowing up her stride, she detoured over to the group. Derek had called out to her, commenting on the haircut.

All of them were genuinely curious, stating their approval multiple times. JJ even got a fistbump from Derek and a wide smile from Spencer. Hotch’s usual morose expression lightened up. They talked about how she had wanted to get it, the differences from long hair, and the overall confidence boost. It was invigorating. More than anything else, JJ felt her heart swell at the sheer support from her teammates. They joked about her being one of the guys; and though right now it was short hair, JJ could feel that it was just the tip of the iceberg.

They eventually got to the topic of where she cut it and JJ casually mentioned the barbershop. At that, Derek’s eyes lit up. He was always one to preach the benefits of a barbershop, offering the argument that it was a place that created a sense of family. He asked if it had been The Queer Barber’s Guild, to which JJ had nodded her head. His interest peaked, Derek asked if it had been Penelope’s recommendation. To that, JJ nodded enthusiastically again.

“Yeah, she’s always loved that place. Babygirl got me hooked on it too, right after I came out. They’ve got some really cool bi stuff in there. Who did you have? Was it Tay? They’re my bro, and a top notch barber.”

“I did have them. They made things so easy. I’m definitely only going there from now on.”

JJ and the group carried on their conversation for a little longer when she heard a squeal behind her. She turned partially to see Penelope clacking over in her yellow heels. She had a huge smile plastered on her face, and was obviously excited for JJ.

“Jayje! You look even better today than you did yesterday! So what’s going on, are we talking about the QBG because, my god, do I love that place!”

Everyone giggled and they continued the conversation. Penelope watched as JJ’s eyes shifted around the bullpen ever so slightly. Of course. JJ was looking for the only missing member, arguably her favorite one. Emily. Penelope held back her laugh yet could help but to smile at the blonde’s little search. She leaned in close to JJ and tapped her on the shoulder.

“She’s in the break room.” JJ tried to fake obliviousness, but she knew that she’d been caught.

“Thanks PG.”

Casually excusing herself from the conversation, JJ left on the behest of “files that she needed to tend to”. She didn’t care if anyone bought the excuse. In her mind, the only place for her to go was the break room. JJ wanted to show Emily the “new her”. Of course, it wasn’t new, but she felt different. Trying not to give things much more thought, JJ arrived at the break room with a quick pace.

She noticed Emily at the coffee counter, stirring her mug. JJ was overcome with something at the sight of Emily. Not even thinking, she leaned against the doorframe and called out to the brunette.

“Got enough for another cup?” Her voice was nonchalant but her heart was pounding in her chest.

Emily perked up at the sound but didn’t turn around. She finished stirring her coffee and began turning around before starting to speak.

“Jen! Oh, shoot, I just used the last of it for my cup.” Emily spoke cheerily as she brought the mug to her lips.

Then her eyes landed on JJ.

Emily completely froze, nearly choking on her coffee. Her eyes widened as they took in her friend’s new look. JJ looked hot. There was a pervading silence between them, but neither could break their trance for long enough to say something. Emily looked over the short hair on JJ’s head, inspecting it almost. She noticed how it’s varied length set off the blonde’s angular features. Emily could almost feel her knees go weak but held it together.

Neither knew nor cared to time how long they stayed like that. It somehow hadn’t reached the point of awkwardness, but both JJ and Emily’s minds were overactive. At some point, JJ managed to point back at the coffee pot. Emily jolted up and moved to the side, breaking her haze. Her gaze instead landed on their best friend in the distance, who was giving her a very enthusiastic thumbs up. Penelope Garcia really was something.

Emily rolled her eyes and turned back to JJ. She was setting things up for a new pot of coffee and the brunette couldn’t help but to watch her intently.

“So, uh, Jen. The haircut. You look amazing. It really suits you.”

“Thanks, Em. I just got it yesterday and I already feel like a whole new person. It’s a bit strange, but honestly, I love it.”

Emily smiled dopily, attempting to hide her grin behind her sips of coffee. They spoke for a little longer before the coffee was nearly done brewing. The small talk was comfortable, though not the kind of conversations they usually had. It was workplace appropriate because that was what JJ and Emily were, colleagues.

“Okay, I’m gonna head back to my desk. I’ll see you at team drinks tonight?” Emily patted JJ’s arm and turned to leave.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” JJ blushed and the two ignored the giddiness they felt.

After leaving the break room, Emily made her way to Penelope’s lair instead. She definitely had some thoughts about JJ’s new look.

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

Hotch, Reid, and Rossi were the first to arrive. They were known for their punctuality. The bar wasn’t crowded just yet, the Friday night crowd was beginning to flow in. They had all changed into more casual wear, except for Rossi. The men made small talk until Derek and Emily drove in nearly 15 minutes later. They had hung out before and just decided to ride in together.

Emily and Derek’s arrival immediately added more pizzazz to the event, spurring them to order the first round of drinks. Things were lively after a crushing week at work and the BAU was ready to let loose. Not long after Emily had placed their drinks order, JJ and Penelope arrived.

JJ was wearing a white Tshirt, ripped black jeans, vans, and most importantly the leather jacket. She drowned out any thoughts of doubt with the idea that this was her family and that soon they would be intoxicated enough to simply not care. She trailed slightly behind Penelope’s eager steps but they eventually reached the table. Hotch spotted her first. He gave her an approving nod, a barely noticeable smile gracing his expression.

Emily spotted her next. Before she could stop herself, Emily’s breath caught in her throat and she gasped. JJ had left her speechless for the second time that day. Her gaze passed over every part of JJ’s outfit. She felt her face get hot and Emily shoved her hands in her pockets. By that point, JJ and Penelope had joined the group at their table but Emily had yet to say a word.

“Wow, Jen, you look amazing. That leather jacket is perfect. It’s a very hot look, but also very you.” Emily couldn’t help her awkwardness but the compliments just kept going. She couldn’t find a way to stop herself.

JJ's thoughts staggered with the compliments but she was able to thank Emily. Penelope simply watched the entire interaction with a smirk plastered on her face. After that, the alcohol took no time in arriving at their tables. They all downed those drinks quickly and went after another round. After a couple rounds, JJ pulled Emily out to the dance floor. They let the music take them over, relinquishing their thoughts to the rhythm on the dance floor.

They spent an unknown amount of time dancing, not caring about anything besides themselves and dancing. But soon, that magic started to fade and the women returned to their table. Derek was standing at the table’s side, having noticed the way that JJ and Emily stood closer as they drank more alcohol. Having a brilliant idea, he spoke up as JJ and Emily took a bite of the chips they had ordered for the table.

“JJ, Emily, I have an idea. Why don’t we play a little game? You two are the strong ladies of the BAU, including my Babygirl but right now I’m focusing on y’all. How about the two of you arm wrestle? I want to know which of you is stronger.”

“Derek, we’re both drunk. That’s not a fair game, even though we know the winner would be me.” JJ’s body swayed lightly, but Emily quickly stabilized her.

“I’m down. At least, I’m no chicken.” Emily spoke in a teasing tone, stealing a glance at JJ.

“Oh, no you don’t. Okay, let’s do it. I’m in.” JJ nodded enthusiastically, invigorated at the idea of a challenge to beat Emily in.

They cleared the space and let JJ and Emily get ready. Both did their own ridiculous warm ups, obviously exaggerating it. They set their arms down and were ready to begin when JJ stopped.

“Wait. What are the stakes?” Emily responded, saying something that she’d wanted to do for a long time.

“If I lose, I’ll take you out on a date. If you lose, you have to take me out on a date. How’s that sound?”

Her proposition shocked the entire table. They’d all been waiting for JJ and Emily to stop tiptoeing around each other. This was just not how they expected things to unfold, albeit it would make a great story for the future. Sober JJ and Penelope would have a field day with this.

“Deal.” JJ was drunk too, but that was an offer that was too good to pass up.

With that, Derek set the two up to begin the match. It was very evenly matched in the beginning. Neither woman budged, focusing very hard on their end prize. The team’s eyes shifted from JJ to Emily, and back again. Their grip was strong but no progress was being made. By the time that they had hit the 20 minute mark, Emily could feel the fog in her brain begin to clear up.

At that point, she took a closer look at her opponent. She watched the way that JJ’s blue eyes locked onto their hands, checking for even the slightest of hesitations. She saw the way that JJ’s clothes hung on her body, giving her an air of confidence that made JJ infinitely hotter. Finally, Emily looked back up to JJ’s hair. It’s long, straight stands dropped over her forehead and framed her face well. Emily lost herself in the thought of running her fingers through the silky cut.

That was when she felt the cool, hard wood of the table. Emily’s eyes widened and she looked down. There it was. Her hand was pressed against the surface, pinned underneath JJ’s.

“I win! Guess you have to take me out on that date, chicken.” JJ teased Emily, getting closer to the brunette’s face.

“I get to take someone as dashing as you out? Well, I might have lost but this seems like the better prize.

JJ’s heart soared at the compliment. The way that the word ‘dashing’ rolled off of Emily’s lips made her feel ecstatic. It wasn’t like when men called her pretty after buying a drink. This hair really was working wonders.

They ended the night with a kiss before Emily climbed out of the rideshare and walked up the apartment. JJ ran her fingers over her lips as the car pulled away. Best decision ever.

tag list: @ssa-jareaus @coramvobis @altsvu @hotchshoney @morcias @jelle-jareau @dragisthegame @ssakayprentish69 @dimitrescus-bitch @jay-writes-jemily @bridget19 @hmm-wanky @emilyprentissfangirl @tokoblade @temily

#jennifer jareau #prelude to gnc jj #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan #cm #bau #jemily #userjemilyology #mc content hours

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

if this was a dream pt. 3

i want to apologize in advance because this is literally like 4 chapters in a trench coat... i'm serious chapter 1 was just over 1000 words and this is over 4000, I have no idea what happened. the reason I didn't break it up is because it is very alastair-centric. I promise next chapter we will get back to thomas and see how he's doing with the actual amnesia part of it all.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Fanfiction Masterlist | AO3

Alastair pulled his coat tightly around himself, trying to keep his breathing steady. The walk from the Institute to Cornwall Gardens was long, but it would give him far more time to clear his head than borrowing a carriage or hailing a hansom cab. He fell into the rhythm of his footsteps; this was familiar to him. He had spent more hours than he could count just walking and walking, trying to run from this life the universe had given him.

Now, though, even his walking was infected by Thomas.

Sometimes, I simply needed to get away from all of the hovering. There was this bit of forest near our house in Idris… it was nice, peaceful. The perfect escape, somewhere to wander until I was too spent to continue. Drove my parents a bit mad, but it was what I needed.

Alastair told him about the woods around Cirenworth, how it was his escape, too. He’d memorized nearly every corner of that forest over the years. It was somewhere where he could pretend to be someone, anyone else. He could be no one, even. He’d left most of the details out, as he often did when discussing his childhood. He trusted Thomas completely, but there were some things he preferred to leave in the past.

Now, his sleepless body ached against the increasing pace of his footsteps, pushing forward as if moving quickly enough could outrun the tears burning behind his eyes. He did not know if he could do this again. If Thomas never regained his memories, could Alastair convince him to forgive him again? Their original circumstances were quite peculiar. Could Alastair survive trying to gain his forgiveness again?

He’d do anything for Thomas, he knew. He loved him, even if he’d never said it out loud. And as he said it now, even in the safety of his own mind, it felt far different than it ever did with Charles on the receiving end. With Charles, love felt strangling. It was shackles to his ankles and wrists, tying him to his misery. Looking back, it was not love at all. With Thomas, he felt free. Thomas made the impossible feel possible.

It isn’t possible. It won’t ever be.

He heard his own words repeated back to him. He knew where this was headed from the start. This is how it all works out for Alastair Carstairs. He knew this time would be no different, even if he hoped it would.

He loathed this feeling inside of him. He’d been doing well. He’d been happy. Now all he could think of were his own self-doubts, his own self-hatred, his age-old desire to run away to the farthest stretches of the Earth in the middle of the night, never to return.

A better partner, a better person would not be so consumed in these thoughts as he was. A better partner would not be the recipient of such hatred from the man he loved at all, memories or not. A better partner would know what to do, how to ease the pain and anxiety that flooded Thomas’ eyes rather than exacerbate them. He was not better, however. He could never be what Thomas deserved. He knew it from the start, but it felt different, being thrown in his face now.

Perhaps it would be better this way, he thought, for it to end like this. It was going to end eventually, as all things do. Perhaps this way would hurt Thomas less, even if Alastair would always wonder what could have happened if he’d tried a little harder, if he’d been a little less horrible, if he’d been a little bit stronger, a bit braver.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. Thomas merely needed time. He’d just woken up from his injury, six months displaced, no less. He was grieving his sister again, even more than before. Alastair wanted to ease Thomas’ pain, but he could not, and thus, Thomas needed time and space and he would give it to him.

Before he realized it, he had returned to his home. He could not remember most of the walk, his feet guiding him through the city he now knew a bit too well as his mind wandered to a place he couldn’t quite reach with his consciousness.

He slowly unlocked the door and sighed as he hung his coat. Cordelia started quickly down the stairs but froze as her expression fell when she saw the look on his face.

Realizing what she must be thinking, Alastair quickly shook his head. “He’s alright. He woke up. He simply… appears to be missing about the past six months of memory.”

Cordelia frowned, her face softening as she continued down the stairs and embraced her brother. “Oh, dâdash. Are you alright?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Thomas is alive and awake. He just hates me.”

She sighed. “He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he ever truly did.”

He shook his head. “He thinks he does. Or he wants to. What’s it matter?”

“Take a seat, dâdash. We just made tea, I’ll bring some out.” Before he could protest, she left for the kitchen.

He settled into one of the armchairs. When Cordelia returned, she took the one beside his and began to pour tea for each of them. “You two will work your way through this, you know. Whatever happens.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? I don’t think I’ve ever met two people better matched. It’s as if you share the same soul or something.”

He gritted his teeth. “Most would say we’re opposites.”

“You act like opposites. Believe it or not, though, behaving grumpy or cheerful are not personality traits. In all the ways that matter, you’re two halves of one whole. It makes me utterly green with envy sometimes, seeing the two of you together, the way that you understand each other so completely.

“I love James, of course, with my whole being. But if I’m being honest, for a long time I thought that the reason I liked him was because he reminded me of Father, all introverted and bookish and such. Now, I’m merely trying to decipher what was real and what was not, what parts of me are genuine and which ones are simply who I thought I needed to be to please him. James, too, is finding himself again after all that happened with Grace. Sometimes, it feels as though we’re two clueless children stumbling around with no sense of self, for some reason placed in this big house with adult responsibilities. It’s an utter mess sometimes, though every moment is worth it.

“Yet you… somehow, despite everything, despite all of the odds stacked against you, despite so much pain and fear, you found yourself and your soulmate all in one person. It’s what you deserve, dâdash, what you both deserve. You will find a way.”

He did not quite believe her, but he would not argue.

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked, cocking her head.

He nodded and then paused for a moment. “I don’t know how I’ll explain this to Mâmân.” Despite all the trouble it’s caused, she still did not know the truth about his time in school.

“I could, if you’d like?” Cordelia offered.

He sighed. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to keep the entire matter out of his own hands. He shook his head. “It’s time I did, I think.”

She gave him a bit of a frown but nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m tired of lying. I spent enough time keeping secrets when Father was alive.” He stood from the chair.

“I’m here if you need me.”

He started up the staircase, mustering up a more positive expression as to not worry his mother too much before he could get the words out. He found her in her bedroom, resting in an armchair a few feet away from Rostam’s bassinet. He approached his baby brother first, giving him a small smile though he was fast asleep. It could have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he was certain Rostam was bigger than he’d been just a few days ago.

“He just fell asleep,” his mother said softly. He turned to her. Her eyes looked tired, though no more tired than they had a few days earlier, and certainly no more tired than his own. “Come, azizam, what are you doing home? Did something happen?”

Alastair shook his head. “Thomas is awake; he’s alright.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” she asked after a small stretch of silence.

“He… He has amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything past last summer. It’s best if I keep my distance for a bit.”

His mother gave him a small smile. “It’ll be okay, Alastair joon. He’ll understand given a bit of time.”

Alastair didn’t look at her. “Maybe. I don’t know. He… he’s quite angry with me. The original circumstances under which he forgave me were fairly bizarre to begin with.”

“Forgive you for what, dear? What could possibly be so terrible that he would not forgive you?”

He sighed. He knew he could not avoid this conversation any longer. “I… It was something that happened at school.” He paused for a moment. “I know you think that I got on well with everyone at the Academy, but… That isn’t the truth. When I first arrived, all of the other boys could tell that I was an easy target. I was smaller than them, and… there were rumors. After a while, I just couldn’t bear it any longer. I… I was always quite good with words, as you know. I learned that using them to cut down others would get me a good laugh, and as long as the other boys were laughing they weren’t…” He trailed off. How was he meant to tell his mother this? “It took the attention off of me.”

“By the time James and Thomas and their friends arrived the next year, I was so angry, at everyone and everything… I was so jealous of them. They had…” Picture perfect families, he wanted to say, though he could not. “They had these perfect lives, or at least they appeared that way to me. They never had to worry about attracting the wrong attention on the street or being humiliated because their families couldn’t afford to hire private tutors. They never had to worry about anything but growing up.”

“Alastair…” his mother started. “I know we never discussed things of this nature. It’s alright that you were angry. They benefited from society in ways that rejected you merely by circumstances of birth. But that wasn’t their fault.”

“I know. I know that now, now that I’m older. I know that my anger was misplaced. But when I was in school, society was too big. I only saw what was in front of me. I thought that if I must be cruel to someone, it should be to them. I said terrible, dreadful things about them and their families, things that should never be repeated. They did nothing to deserve the way I treated them. Thomas was kind to me, one of the only people who was ever kind to me in my two years there, and yet I still slandered his family. Last summer, he learned of the things I had said when he was not listening. That is what he remembers now.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Alastair would not look his mother in the eyes. “I always knew that you had a hard time at school, Alastair,” she said finally. “Your lies were never too convincing. I could see how you’d changed. I… I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

He knew it, too. He knew how his parents had spoken about him in those years, lamenting about what a miserable and difficult teenager he’d grown into when he and his sister were not in the room. He also knew how his father only ever seemed to care about Alastair’s destructive behavior when his mother began to pester him about his drinking.

“It’s not your fault.”

“The world was cruel to you, and I could not protect you from it, but I should have tried. You were a child, my child, I am your mother, and I was meant to protect you, but I did not. Not just from the world, but from… your father, I know. Be kind to yourself, azizam. Regardless of what cruel things you did while trying to balance the weight of the world on small shoulders, it seems to me that those you hurt have forgiven you. You simply have not forgiven yourself.”

“Perhaps they shouldn’t have. Perhaps I never deserved their forgiveness in the first place.”

Sona sighed. “Forgiveness is not deserved, Alastair. We forgive for our own wellbeing, so that we can let go and move on. If you will not fight for Thomas on your own behalf, fight on his. He deserves to forgive you, to heal from these wounds of the past. He deserves to be loved by you.”

Alastair didn’t respond.

“It pains me to see you like this. You deserve to forgive, too. You deserve to forgive yourself and all who have caused you pain. You deserve to be free of it. As long as you keep such a tight grip on it all, you will only continue to destroy yourself, and as long as you continue to destroy yourself, you will hurt those who love you as well. Please-” she cut herself off, her voice breaking. Her voice trembled as she began again, and he realized for a striking moment that he had never seen her this vulnerable before. He’d witnessed her pain after Elias’ death, and he’d caught glimpses of her sorrow before it, but she’d always kept her truest self tightly locked. “Please, my love, promise me that you’ll try. You can start with me.”

He looked up at her abruptly, startled. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could find the words, she’d stood and crossed the few feet between them.

She took his hands in hers. Seeing the pain in her eyes, he wanted desperately to look away but he could not. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me for all of the ways that I’ve failed you. You were too young for the burdens I placed upon you. I never should have allowed you to take on that responsibility. Please, forgive me for all of the times I overlooked your pain because I was distracted by my own. I am so sorry, Alastair, for each and every time I hurt you and dismissed you. I did the best with what I had, but if I could go back in time and teach myself to be a little stronger, a little braver, to be a better mother than I was, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I can’t. All I can do is promise to try to be a better mother, not just to your brother, but to you as well. If it’s not too late.” Careful tears streamed down her cheeks, rare as they were.

He shook his head, feeling his own tears spill. He fell into her embrace, holding her tightly, as he had not done since he was a small child. “I forgive you,” he said softly, and he meant it.

They stood for a long while, holding each other, taking comfort in each other and the silence. Until Rostam began to cry. They pulled away from each other awkwardly.

“I should… get some rest,” Alastair said, trying to pull himself together. He realized suddenly that he had no idea what time it was or when he’d last slept or eaten.

Sona nodded. “Of course. I love you, Alastair. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. I’m sorry that you and Thomas are struggling right now, but I know that you two are strong and resilient. With a bit of time and healing, this will pass.”

He nodded, unable to respond without breaking down again.

He returned to his bedroom to the sound of his mother soothing his newborn brother. Shutting his door behind him, he felt the exhaustion of the past several days settled deep into his bones. With heavy movements, he changed into clean clothes, leaving the old ones in a heap on the floor. Typically, he would be horrified at the thought of anything in his room so out of place, but he could not find the energy within himself to care.

He collapsed into his bed, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep, repeating his mothers words back to himself in his mind. If only forgiving himself would come as easily as forgiving her.

* * *

The next two days passed as a blur. He’d slept heavily the first night. Cordelia had reportedly attempted to wake him for dinner, but settled on bringing a bit of food to his bedroom instead.

The next day passed a bit more normally, though Alastair still felt quite scattered. He’d appeared well-enough put together, however, for Cordelia to feel comfortable going home, so he supposed that was a good sign. Kamala had come for a visit, too, though he wasn’t much in the mood for talking, and they wound up just giving Rostam a bath and discussing Kamala’s latest read.

The day after that had slowly begun to feel more normal, more balanced. Until Gideon Lightwood arrived at his door.

Alastair stared at him for a moment before regaining his composure. He began to call him Mr. Lightwood before stopping himself. It still felt a bit odd to call him by his given name. “Gideon, hello. What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Everything’s fine. Thomas is doing well; he’s feeling much better, though no significant improvements to his memory.”

Alastair nodded. “That’s good. That he’s feeling better, I mean.”

“I came here to check on you, actually.”

“Oh.” He paused. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to. Well, we all did, Sophie, Eugenia, and I, but I was the most persuasive.” He smiled as he spoke, as if smug at the accomplishment of being delegated the one to come visit him.

“Right, er, come in,” he gestured for Gideon to enter and take a seat in the sitting room. “You’re in luck; my mother just made tea if you’d like some.”

He nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

Alastair returned a few moments later and began pouring tea. “It was very kind of you to come, but I’m truly alright. Just worried about Thomas is all.”

Gideon nodded. “Of course. As I said, he’s doing well, or as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I know it is difficult for him, feeling so disconnected. Regardless of the brave face he puts on. It’s frustrating for him, as if we’ve all got some sort of inside joke that he isn’t in on.”

He could imagine it: the quick glances, the brief answers to Thomas’ many questions. He was certain it was driving him mad. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Gideon gave him a small smile. “Because he’s feeling better, his friends are coming by today to attempt to fill him in on the time that he’s missing. I’m certain there will be gaps, though. Perhaps afterwards he will be more open to speaking with you.”

Alastair didn’t know how to tell him that he wasn’t so sure Thomas’ friends would be singing his praises.

“You should stop by the Institute tomorrow if you’re free,” Gideon offered.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It’s up to Thomas, of course, if he would like to see you, but if nothing else I know that Sophie and Eugenia would love for you to come by.”

Alastair didn’t respond for a long moment. He’d spent these past couple of days mainly sleeping and caring for his brother, but also ruminating over his conversation with his mother. He began to make a mental list, both of the things he felt he had not forgiven himself for and the things he had not forgiven others for. Before he knew it, the list was distressingly lengthy. He had no idea where to even begin. Perhaps if he could put this one mistake behind him, whatever that meant, the rest would seem less overwhelming.

He knew that he would never forgive himself for how he hurt Thomas’ family as long as the terrible things he’d done went unspoken. Perhaps that was why he never brought it up. “Did Thomas ever tell you why he was angry with me?”

Gideon narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Something that happened back at school, wasn’t it?”

Alastair nodded. He memorized the way Gideon looked at him now, prepared to only be looked upon with hatred in a few moments. He exhaled and looked down, too cowardly to watch the expression change. “I said things… horrible things about your family. About your wife and about Thomas and about Henry Fairchild, but mainly about you, the Consul, and Matthew. There were rumours going around that he was your child, and I repeated them to him. I repeated them after, too. I have reasons for the way I behaved at school, but I have no reasons for that. I was simply angry. Matthew and I were both terrible to each other, and I was so angry for so many reasons. I did not think of the consequences of my words. I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry for the role I played in causing your family such pain.”

“It’s okay,” Gideon replied gently. Alastair looked up in surprise to see not a hint of the hatred he was expecting. Seeing the confused look on his face, he continued. “Obviously, I’m not happy that you said cruel things about my loved ones, but it was a long time ago, and I would be a hypocrite to not recognize a man who regrets his mistakes and has learned from them. You make my son happy, Alastair. That more than makes up for anything you might’ve said when you were younger, in my eyes.” He flashed him a smile and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Here I was, worried that you’d killed someone or something.”

“Well, I’ve also done that, but it’s not what Thomas is angry about.”

Gideon stared at him, clearly unsure over whether or not he was serious.

“Joking,” he said quickly. “...kind of.”

He looked back at him hesitantly. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Ha, no. Not today.” His guilt surrounding the deaths of Clive Cartwright and his father would need to be addressed another time.

“Right,” Gideon responded. “Thank you for telling me this, Alastair. I appreciate your honesty. I only have one question, why did you not say anything about this before? It was clearly bothering you. Did you fear we would reject you?”

“I…” That seemed like the logical answer, wasn’t it? Yet he knew it was not the correct one. “I think that perhaps it was the opposite. I was just so ashamed… and I knew that as long as I held on to that, I would never allow myself to truly get too close. I know how horrible that sounds, and I know it hurt Thomas, too, but for some reason that,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “was scarier than anything else. I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t make sense-”

“It does. I understand, Alastair, even if I don’t like that you felt you had to do that. I know the past couple of months have been complicated for you, though in many ways less complicated than the years before. It will always be your choice, but know that there will always be a place for you in my life, whether you and Thomas are together or not. But I will not ever blame you for anything you feel you are not able to do.”

Alastair nodded, feeling a soreness at the back of this throat that indicated impending tears.

“You should stop by tomorrow and visit us. It’s up to you, but I think that it would be helpful for you to speak with Sophie, too. I will not repeat anything to her, lest you decide not to. I do think it would be somewhat of a relief, though. We thought that the reason you were so distant was because you disliked us.”

“What?” He silently cursed the pain in his voice.

“Joking,” Gideon teased with a chuckle. “Kind of.”

Alastair exhaled, feeling a bit of the tension release, and gave him half of an eye roll.

“Please, tell me honestly, Alastair, are you doing alright?”

He nodded in response, finally feeling it to be true.

“I shall take my leave then. The tea was truly lovely, by the way. You must pass my thanks unto your mother.”

“I will.”

“See you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Alastair responded before he could stop himself. He stood to see him out, but was surprised when Gideon met him with a hug goodbye.

“Thank you for chatting with me.”

“Thank you for… checking in.”

Gideon smiled at him and donned his coat and hat. Alastair watched him as he departed, feeling more at peace now than he had in quite a while.

thanks so much for reading! taglist (reply, ask, or message to be added/removed): @stxr-thxif @satanisanauthor @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @kamalajcshi @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid

#if this was a dream fic #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #tlh #the last hours #fanfiction #fanfic #chain of iron spoilers #chain of iron #coi spoilers #coi

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