gioven2201

[gioven2201]

The last time we saw Robin cry was during Enies Lobby 🥺🥺🥺🥺

They're so ready to throw hands with whoever makes their dearest archeologist cry :(

[gioven2201]

Shepard of Fire: ♣️ V

"𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼. 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓘'𝓶 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰... 𝓞𝓾𝓽."

-"The Prisoner" – Iron Maiden

It has been a few days since Amaryllis's incarceration. During those few days, secluded in the stony jail cell, where the cinder-block walls are opaque and stale under the dimly lit lanterns encompassing the area, her demeanor wavers more each day. Bags rest underneath the golden-haired woman's eyes, proving her lack of sleep in the murky place. Grateful, she gets fed, but it is not worth it because she scarcely eats, and it does not help that the knights in purple robes attempt to talk to her, making her disgusted to the point she loses her appetite.

"Oh, come on," one of the knights calls out to her, "you still in a daze, little lady?"

She scowls at the man who, in her words, dares to call himself a magic knight. Her blood boils, and her mana surges through the roof to the point everyone can feel throughout the room's vicinity. The knights look disturbed, but their egotistical attitude remains, knowing she is still locked up, handcuffed, and too helpless to get up.

"Ooh," another one quips, "feisty."

She tries getting from her vulnerable position, but she winces in pain from the injuries she sustained while making a run from these knights. Her legs and arms have scrapes and bruises on her knees and ribs from these "assholes" at the kingdom and from falling. She smells like sweat and rain, has oily skin and greasy hair, and her tattered clothes freeze her. She is frail, but not too much to the point where she cannot use a drop of her magic to help herself, even without her grimoire.

"Aw," another soldier mocks, "is someone cold?"

She attempts to take a deep breath but coughs hard to the point her lungs start hurting. She returns to that vulnerable position she once was in and continues feeling sorry for herself—if possible. The other magic knights keep making more jokes about how weak she is, and she ignores their comments and watches the flames flicker, finding comfort in their movements and wanting to move free like them. They provide a light she found comfort in at a young age, and even as an adult, she still believes they do now.

"Come on," one of them calls out, getting her attention, "don't ignore us, sweetie!"

"You... call y-yourselves... m-magic knights?" Amaryllis questions them, her voice cracking in the slightest. "How... c-can you... d-do this?"

"Oh," one of them mocks her, "so you can talk," and they all laugh.

She lets out a shaky breath, exhausted to continue this argument.

Anger boils throughout her bloodstream as she fights the aching pains throughout her body, and though it might not be an excellent look for her, escaping these walls should be enough for her. There is only one way for her to get out: with her grimoire in tow, but it is somewhere out of her sight.

"This better work," Amaryllis thought.

She crawls over to the front of the gate and sticks her right hand between the gaps of the metal bars, and the magic knights take notice of her actions.

"Aw," one of the men coos, "does someone want their mommy and daddy?" They turn around, backs facing her; a terrible idea on their part.

Thin enough only for her to see, a tiny firey thread seeps from her index finger to go over where her grimoire is so she can escape once more. Her body, still weak, tries to maintain its composure and pours all her focus into the magic spell she can cast without her spellbook. Carefully, once she sees it, she pulls it towards her as quickly as possible and clutches its binding, surprising the magic knights before her.

"Flame Magic: Blaze of Glory."

"May I see the so-called prisoner you guys locked up, please," an unknown voice says, echoing through the hallways. "My little brother keeps going about someone too scared to even move an inch in their cell."

Amaryllis glances towards the direction she heard that voice for a moment, and the magic knights salute the older man before them, the orb of fire continuing to form in her hand; however, this one will be smaller than the one she used to flee Spade.

"The prisoner in question," one knight answers, "she–"

BOOM!

"–managed to blow a hole into a wall."

They turn around to watch the debris falling from the hole until Amaryllis looks over her shoulder, seeing the shocked magic knights trying to scramble to their feet to stop her. However, before regaining their composure, Amaryllis jumps through the hole and down to the streets below.

The others run to the hole in the wall and watch the young woman slide down the roof barefoot, landing on the cobblestone roads and running as fast as her feet let her. She carries her grimoire tucked under her arm as she runs through the streets, hearing the bellows from the other magic knights trying to capture her. She could feel all eyes on her, strong mana surging throughout the area with each step she made.

"So, tell me," the male questions, "you locked her up for how long now?"

"Sir," one of them begins, "we had her here since the other night. She arrived from the Strong Magic Region in the same state she's now, tattered clothes included."

"When we tried to help her," the other continues, "she took out her grimoire and attacked us left and right. We had to restrain her, sir.”

"I see."

"We confiscated her grimoire, and she's from the Spade Kingdom—a fire mage."

The vermillion-haired captain looks at Amaryllis from a distance, wide-eyed, protecting herself against three other knights from the Purple Orcas attempting to subdue her. It would be a lie if Fuegoleon expressed he is not impressed by her skillfulness and potency in combat against more than one magic knight, particularly in her condition. The way she harbors herself implies to the vermillion-haired male she has considerable years of combat knowledge.

"Let's go check this out," Fuegoleon suggests. "I would like to get to know this woman."

The Crimson Lion captain exits, wanting to stop the young woman from causing a rampage. The other two knights, however, want no part in that.

Fuegoleon finally looks at the woman in action, watching the spells she uses with her grimoire, defending herself and warding off any more magic knights. He rushes over to where some others are, taking a break. In their head, they will be wearing themselves down if they cast any more spells against the golden-haired woman.

"How are you all holding up?" Fuegoleon asked.

"Not well," one of them responds. "This woman has so much energy it should be illegal."

"She was so frail," another one complains. "How is it possible?!"

The vermillion-haired captain notices something they do not, and that would be her weakened state slowly coming to the surface, bringing her defenses down little by little. He can see she wields too much magic based on her physical condition alone. He takes the opportunity by rushing over there with his now-open grimoire and casts a spell to bind her.

"Flame magic," Fuegoleon casts, "Leo Palma!"

Leo Palma is a fire spell designed to restrain the target; with an open grimoire, he conjures several lion's palms entirely of fire around her, manipulating those palms to immobilize her. Additionally, he could utilize them as an extension of an arm and perform a search on a target without direct contact.

Bound against the building behind her, Amaryllis attempts withering around to break free, wanting to flee because she knows they all will send her back to Spade unless a miracle transpires. Eventually, however, wearing herself out from running on pure adrenaline, she stops squirming, and gradually, the spell wears off. She collapses onto the road with a thud and a wince in pain, thinking she broke something without her knowledge while in combat.

Her arms brace her up, and with her head away from everyone else, she pukes a little bit of blood all over the pavement. Amaryllis can hear the discontent from others, trying to turn her body away from that mess to lie down on her side on the stony floor, bracing for what will transpire next or whatever penalty the man before her will deliver. What she does not predict would be the vermillion-haired male bending down in front of her, his hands reaching out to help her up; however, she cringes—even from how deliberately he is moving—she withdraws.

Amaryllis's breathing picks up out of nowhere, and she can feel her heart beating out of her chest like it is about to explode. Her body breaks out into cold sweats as it keeps going on, and she is unable to think; her pain restricts her from getting up off the ground. She cannot tell if the men "watching" her are making fun of her. Memories flash into the golden-haired woman's head, and she cannot stop them because she knows until she returns to Spade that what they will do to her once they take her back in will not be pretty.

Amaryllis tries calming herself down, clawing at the cobblestone road beneath her, thinking it will save her and keep her grounded. Fuegoleon takes a moment to think for himself, and knowing what to do, he puts his left hand inches away from her face. Her movements slow the moment she sees a beautiful flame arise from his palm. The beauty enchants her, but what calms her nerves is his mana—warm and comforting, like a lovely hug.

"This woman is traumatized," he asserts. "Have you checked to see what was wrong with her?"

"No, sir, but–"

At this moment, unbeknownst to him, Fuegoleon takes a leap of faith and announces something that will end up staggering not only the magic knights observing this event but also himself with this standalone confession.

"Let her go," the male demands. "She will be heading to the infirmary to get her wounds properly treated."

Amaryllis's eyes, blurry, looks over at the well-dressed man, and she tries to remain focused on him. She wants to give this man a proper thank you or try to understand who he is, but his robe gives her some ideas.

"Once done," he continues, "the House of Vermillion caretakers will watch over her until she fully heals. Do I make myself clear?"

"Vermillion?" Amaryllis thinks. "Wait a sec, do not tell me–"

"Are you sure, Captain Fuegoleon?"

"–THIS is the man Mother Theresa trained?!"

"I am certain," Fuegoleon declares. "Accuse me of aiding a fugitive. It does not bother me, but what bothers me is Magic Knights degrading a prisoner, for there will always be more to the picture."

The other knights do not say a word, knowing they cannot do anything now and feeling ashamed to be knocked down a peg or two by someone of Fuegoleon's stature. The man before them does not only outrank them but is a highly-regarded royal, well-respected amongst other magic knights and captains alike.

"Madam," he calls out, regaining his focus on Amaryllis, "I'm going to attempt to lift you, okay?"

Her eyes regain focus, and before she gives him an answer, she studies him the best she can. Making sure she can trust him without taking someone else's words on what they say.

The man has purple eyes as beautiful and bright as an amethyst stone, red markings around them, and lengthy, straight, vibrant vermillion hair nicely combed back while leaving his long fringe combed to the left in a wavy hairstyle, a diamond-shaped fleck of reddish pigment on the middle of his forehead, and sports red earrings. His apparel is a white tunic covered by a dark blue shirt with long sleeves and a high collar, the sweater embellished with gold-colored fabric with perpendicular stripes designed on its edges, collars, and sleeves. He wears a purple sash around his waist to keep the shirt together, something the golden-haired woman found slightly odd. Moreover, he sports white trousers and tall ebony boots with a similar design to his shirt, but he wears a long red cape on top of his attire.

Fuegoleon sports the squad's signature robe that only covers his torso, making sense to the golden-haired woman since he is the captain of the Crimson Lion squad. His squad robe has a color analogous to his robe, which has detailed gold designs at the lower front edge, complemented by a scarf of a matching red color. Additionally, a pair of gold-colored ropes protrude from between the scarf and the robe at the front, and a purple stone decorates each end.

Once hesitant but finally gaining some trust for him, she nods her head, permitting him to carry her in his arms. He carefully picks her up and her grimoire like she weighs nothing, which she practically does not; nevertheless, she cannot move independently, but he will not wait for the others to handle her. To him, they have done enough damage. After a solid grasp of her state, he wants to ensure she is comfortable.

Amaryllis looks at the man carrying her, trying to study his features. She can see how beautiful his eyes are in the lighting when her eyes focus enough.

Her weary, emotionless, tired baby blue eyes look at his soothing, full-of-life purple ones, trying her hardest to concentrate on her view. From her slightly impaired vision, she can see a handsome man, a few years older than her, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. She stifled a yawn, relaxing in his touch ever so quickly, and she closed her eyes and let sleep take over.

~♣️♠️~

Fuegoleon carries the young woman through the manor, ensuring the woman sleeping in his arms gets proper treatment and rest like he said he would. He sends someone else through the prison halls to regain the rest of her possessions, though questioning whether it was an excellent idea to aid her. He asks the rest to prepare a room for her, a fresh pair of clean clothes to change her into, and anything the woman may need once she wakes up. Many of the caretakers are bewildered to see someone in such a terrible state and with so many scars on her body.

"Sir," a gentleman in the estate calls out to him as he sets her down for two other women to take care of her, "I managed to get her items. It looks like she was traveling light."

A spare change of clothes looking nothing more than rags with patches, a ragged-looking cloak, and a grimoire carrier are the only things she has. It baffled the vermillion-haired male she managed to escape despite how treacherous the neutral zone was, making him wonder what all she went through.

"Who is this woman," Fuegoleon ponders, "and why is she here?"

"Sir," the same man adds, disrupting the vermillion-haired male's train of thought, "we should be contacting Owen."

Owen, dubbed as the kingdom's most outstanding doctor, is a healer who aids directly under the Wizard King. Though Fuegoleon does think it is a great idea, yet on such short notice, it can be a potential issue because he could be treating other patients, and the woman could be at risk of more exposure. Regardless, he soon sends the gentleman to fetch the physician to examine the golden-haired woman.

"Lord Fuegoleon," a woman with short, light pink hair, fair skin, a heart-shaped face, orangeish-brownish eyes, and a simple maid uniform announces to the vermilion-haired male. "We have the room ready."

Fuegoleon nods and carries the golden-haired woman to the spare bedroom she will reside in until she heals, hoping the woman in his arms will finally catch up on the sleep she most likely needs. He walks through the long hallways to the guestroom and, unworried about the eyes on him from other caretakers concerned for the young woman, looks down at her a few times while making his way to the chamber. Her pale skin looks gaunt and skeletal, and her resemblance could pass as a corpse, and for how light she feels in his arms. His only goal is to ensure she is comfortable when she wakes up because what she went through is beyond his imagination.

Walking through the doorway of the spacious room, serving as a personal infirmary for the golden-haired woman until further notice, Fuegoleon gently lays her down on the moderately large mattress on top of the covers. He wipes a few strands of hair from her face before setting her grimoire down on the nightstand to her left. She stirs a little from the slight touch, making the vermillion-haired male tense up, but she eventually calms down and returns to her deep slumber.

"Aiding a fugitive, I overheard," a man Fuegoleon familiarized himself with says, "but how bad is she?"

Owen, the kingdom's most excellent doctor, stands in the doorway, trying to get a good look at his next patient. The middle-aged man with short, light-colored hair wears a pair of rimless glasses over his green eyes, a white lab coat over a white tunic, dark blue trousers, and beige shoes with white trim.

Before Fuegoleon speaks, everyone else in the room escorts themselves out, leaving Owen and himself alone.

Owen closes the door and treks over to the golden-haired woman's side to examine her condition. He takes a deep breath and looks at the vermillion-haired male, "do you wanna stay for this?" Owen asked.

Fuegoleon nods, wanting to know what could be wrong with the woman. He sits on the dark red loveseat in the room, waiting for Owen to do what he needs.

Pulling out his light blue, three-leafed grimoire with gold trimming, he turns the pages and announces, "Water Healing Magic: Qualle Operation."

Qualle Operation, a water-based healing spell, utilizes a swarm of jellyfish made of water whose tentacles sheath around the injury, and the user can investigate it. The jellyfish swarms numerous areas, such as her arms, legs, and feet, but what shocked the doctor was the prominent inspection around her midriff, chest, and thighs. Owen's facial expression remains forbearing, but his eyes showcase another sentiment wholly: perplexity, curiosity, and astonishment.

Owen closes his grimoire, puts it back in its carrier, and walks over to Fuegoleon to sit on the chair, the same color as the loveseat the vermillion-haired male sits on, across from him.

"How is she?" Fuegoleon questioned.

"Well," Owen starts, "besides the cuts and scrapes she managed to obtain while fighting, there is frostbite scarring on her feet and some on other parts of her body. She may have had those for years because they are not fresh. However, it appears someone healed her wounds when she first arrived.

Fuegoleon nods.

"I am uncertain what she went through on the way here, but it is evident she did encounter some strong beasts on her journey because I picked up on some major internal wounds, too. However," Owen removes his glasses and proceeds with more grim information, "I was able to pick up but did not inspect some... wounds that never received proper treatment."

"How come you didn't inspect them," Fuegoleon requests, "and how bad could they possibly be?"

"These wounds I do not specialize in, sir," Owen indicates to the Crimson Lion's captain. He clears his throat before he continues. "I prefer not to continue this discussion because I want the young woman to verify for me."

"What are we talking about here?"

Owen doesn't say a word, but it is enough for Fuegoleon to apprehend what the doctor means to an extent and why there is no further assessment.

"I understand," Fuegoleon speaks. "Do you have a general idea of what she went through?"

"I don't have the answer," Owen divulges. "And who knows how long this went on? When she's ready to talk, I'll make sure you're around, too, but solely if she requests it.”

Both men glimpse the golden-haired woman lying on her back, sleeping away like nothing had ensued hours before. "I overheard about her fight against some magic knights. About how she could hold them off until you stepped in," Owen darts back at Fuegoleon. "I assume that is correct?"

"Yes," Fuegoleon responds, "that is correct."

"Then we must keep a close eye on her," Owen states, "because we do not know what Spade is like. For all anyone knows, she could be a spy who came in here and failed a mission. However, you let her come here to rest, but for what reason?"

"Leopold," the vermillion-haired man reveals, much to Owen's surprise. "He begged I should because he sensed something was... off. I am starting to think he was right because of the way she acted when I restrained her using one of my spells. She panicked in a way I would never expect."

"There could be more to this," Owen expresses, getting up from the chair, "but we should be careful."

Fuegoleon nods, getting up from the loveseat. He walks Owen to the door, "thank you, and goodnight," he said.

The physician leaves the chamber and heads back to his quarters for the night, urging Fuegoleon to do so, too, almost subconsciously knowing the vermillion-haired captain would worry about her if he stuck around.

Fuegoleon glimpses at the young woman sleeping peacefully in the guest bed before he closes it shut for the night. He allows the maids who stood outside (who proclaim they did not overhear anything) to wait to change the young woman out of the grungy attire she wore during imprisonment. Fuegoleon permits them and heads to his chambers, wishing to rest before training his squadmates again in the morning.

#Spotify #anime #black clover #crimson lion kings #fuegoleon vermillion #magic knight captains #fanfiction #fanfic

[gioven2201]

I am in love with this so much 🥺🥺🥺

Crocodile finds a strange stray cat an 11-year old Nico Robin (AU where they met 13 years earlier. Robin's been on the run from the World Government for 3 years. Crocodile's 27 and has not set up base in Alabasta yet)

It seems like I have become possessed. By some sort of demon.

Bonus:

[gioven2201]

I agree with this wholeheartedly.

[gioven2201]

🤣🤣🤣🤣

gotta pay back nami's debt somehow

[gioven2201]

Shepard of Fire: Chapter ♠️ IV

Amaryllis looks over the blue skies along the horizon as Vanessa flies them to the Common Realm. With lifeless eyes gazing at the land, the blonde-haired woman finds peace and comfort in the rolling green lush grounds and mountains. The comforting energy nearly lulls her to sleep, but she knows she must stay awake for the trip.

"Finral told me you have a hard time speaking," Vanessa tells Amaryllis, looking over her shoulder and starting small talk between them. "But is it true you escaped?"

Amaryllis nods.

"I've been in your shoes before," the pink-haired woman confesses, looking straight ahead. "I doubt for the same reasons why you did."

Silence engulfs their atmosphere once more until Amaryllis points straight at the church Vanessa referred to before their trip.

"Yeah, that's Narin," Vanessa answers. "My squad mate's little sister lives there. Long story."

Nairn is a populated village in the Common Realm, where a plaza with a fountain is in the middle. The elevations on the outskirts of the town house a web of caves, whereas the town's church sits on the edge. The church is a significant construction with two soaring steeples and serves as an orphanage and training establishment for apostles.

"SOMEONE," the two women overhear, "STOP THAT MAN!"

Amaryllis and Vanessa look to see a man running through the streets with a burlap sack full of items. Amaryllis gently shakes the pink-haired woman's shoulders, urging her to help the citizens. Reluctantly, she agrees and swoops to check out what is happening, curious about the commotion. Unsure what she needs to do, she halts her actions; however, she sees the blonde woman jump down and run toward the thief with her grimoire out, prepared to use her magic.

Amaryllis runs as much as her body would let her. The thief could be better at running for more extended periods, but it is an advantage the golden-haired woman can use to cast a spell close enough.

"Flame Magic: Sleep Pyroalasis!" Amaryllis casts.

The criminal collapses to the ground with a thud and releases his grip on the sack of items. Amaryllis picks it off the ground and slings the bag over her shoulder to the citizens chasing that thief for their belongings. Eventually, they all catch up to the two women and thank them for securing their items. No one understands why someone would do that, but they all are grateful someone could stop him.

"Well done, you two," an older woman says to Vanessa and Amaryllis. "Thank you for doing that."

She is an older woman with short, light-colored hair, a large, jagged scar running over her left eye, extending from her forehead to her left cheek, and wearing a nun's habit. A bunch of children surrounds the woman, like she is protecting them. The aura surrounding the woman tells everyone that if anyone does anything to hurt the children, she will stop it.

"Usually," she clarifies, "this town isn't so bad with thieves. I'm just glad a couple of magic knights were here."

"Oh, she's not one," Vanessa speaks, pointing at Amaryllis. "She's not from around here."

Amaryllis nods her head and shows her grimoire to the nun. She hums in amusement, following the multiple children voicing their curiosity on why there is no clover on the book's cover.

"I see," she replies. "How about we go inside while the others get more members of a magic knight squad to imprison the thief?"

Amaryllis bows as a 'thank you' to the older woman. The golden-haired woman then turned to Vanessa and hugged her as a 'thank you' before the pink-haired woman returned to her base. Amaryills hopes to see her again soon and hopes to see what she means by her squadmates being crazy.

The older nun asks a few citizens to locate magic knights to imprison the criminal, while others agree to watch over the careless thief and wait patiently for help. She also asks the children to resume playtime and explains she will be helping the young woman who arrived here. All the children agree and call the older woman 'Mother Theresa' and return to what they were doing as if nothing happened.

Theresa escorts Amaryllis through the large wooden doors to the church. Once the nun lets the golden-haired woman in, she cannot help but admire the interior design of the building. The church's interior features high ceilings adorned with detailed arches and stained glass windows that allow colorful light to filter through—arranged in rows are the pews facing the altar at the front, where religious ceremonies occur. The altar is elevated and decorated with sacred symbols and sculptures. Various religious artworks, paintings, or icons adorn the walls, and the atmosphere is peaceful and respectful, encouraging contemplation and prayer.

The two women stroll down the aisle to the benches up toward the front to sit and talk while they both wait for the magic knights' arrival. However, in Mother Theresa's mind, that is not the sole thing she wants to do. She has inquiries to ask the youthful female beside her, interested in why she made an impulsive expedition from Spade to Clover.

"I have no idea why you are over here, Spade," Theresa begins sternly. "An irrational decision to journey from Spade to Clover could have been catastrophic if you weren't as strong."

Amaryllis pauses her footsteps at the word "strong," a phrase she despised for years because, to her, being powerful meant everyone expected so much from you. That is what happened to her. She sacrificed her life to save her family because she was the strong one, and where it got her was years of going through so much.

Theresa looks back at the golden-haired woman, noticing her posture and her halted steps. She ponders if she is not used to such recognition or has heard it too much, causing self-doubt. The older woman sees it from young, shy mages from strong families, having so much to compensate for and carrying the expectations of their elders and younger siblings. She does not question the young woman why but waits for her to regain her composure to proceed with their walk. 

Once snapping back to reality, Amaryllis walks to Mother Theresa to proceed, something she gladly obliges. With each step they take, the sound of the children disappears, but eventually, they sit at a nearby bench towards the front.

"I noticed the bandages on your body," Theresa points out to the young lady. "I wonder what happened."

The golden-haired woman points at her throat and makes a hand motion, signaling she cannot speak. "Let me help you with that," the older woman says, pulling out her grimoire and casting, "Fire Healing Magic: Soothing Holy Light.”

Soothing Holy Light is a close-ranged, fire-based healing spell. In an open grimoire, the user personifies several lit candles that softly illuminate and float around the target. Steam emanates from the injuries as they heal, especially to a large group. In this case, the spell heals the golden-haired woman's wounds covered in bandages. Steam comes out of bandages wrapped around her neck, on her thighs, on her right forearm, and another wrapped around her midriff. The smoke dies down eventually, and Amaryllis gradually removes the bandage around her right forearm to see the results.

"It's not there," Amaryllis admires in shock. "No scar... nothing."

With wide eyes, Amaryllis looks at the older woman, who wears a soft smile, and the golden blonde-haired woman proceeds to yank the next bandage around her neck. The golden-haired woman wished she could see how it looked, but once she grazed her neck, the texture of a new scar was right where her trachea was; however, the mark was thin. It does not feel realistic to her. She did not think this kind of magic existed someplace across the four kingdoms.

"It'll work well for on-surface wounds, but I'm unsure about internal. But tell me," Theresa asks Amaryllis, "do you have any plans when you're here, young one?"

The golden-haired woman wondered if she could talk now with her throat wound healed. She clears her throat several times and mutters, "The goal initially... was to hide... in the woods."

Mother Theresa hums, wondering how long that would have lasted.

"Soon," Amaryllis continues, "maybe... find work... once I healed."

"You were okay with living off the grid? Open to all the elements?"

Amaryllis shrugs, too skeptical herself. The golden-haired woman did not consider she would make it out alive. She knew she would plan it out ultimately once healed, but she was still determining when that would be. However, thanks to that healing spell, she is predominantly healed.

"Well," Theresa sighs, "you could stay here, but I do not know if you would be okay with that."

Amaryllis shrugs again. She is not against the idea but knows the older woman would be aiding a fugitive if word gets out.

"However," Theresa mentions, "if you manage to make it to the capital without getting caught, there is a man within the Kingdom whom I trained. His name is Fuegoleon Vermillion. He became a powerful fire mage, like yourself."

She nods, unsure if "powerful" is a great way to describe herself.

"He's the captain of the Crimson Lion. They're one of the magic knight squads in this Kingdom. I used to be a magic knight for that squad, but I resigned and became a nun to protect children."

"I understand," Amaryllis mutters. "Witnessing death isn't easy."

Mother Theresa looks at the younger woman. Hearing those words come out of her should not be typical. She brushes it off, not wanting to pry on the woman she just met. "I doubt you know of any of the squads I'm telling you, but," she explains, "there are nine squads in total. Like the other eight squads, the Crimson Lion follows the orders of the Wizard King, who rules the Clover Kingdom, and they work according to his requests. They are also one of the most well-known and prosperous squads amongst them all."

Amaryllis nods, understanding what the older woman tells her.

"There is one thing I must ask, though," Theresa says. "What are you looking for while you're here?"

"Firstly," Amaryllis answers timidly, "there are some people I met already who I owe, and I'd like to thank them somehow."

Mother Theresa nods.

"But, most importantly, find a place where I belong."

"You'll find it here," the older woman says. "If you run into Little Fuego, tell him the Crimson She-Leopard says, 'hello.'"

"Mother Theresa," one of the men watching the criminal calls out. "Members of the Purple Orcas are here!"

"Oh, wow," Mother Theresa says, "that was quick."

The two women get up from the benches and walk down the aisle. "If you stay a while," Mother Theresa mentions, "I suggest learning about the country as much as possible. Whether reading books or exploring by foot, it'll help."

They go through the tall wooden doors of the church and immediately see the magic knights in their purple robes with an orca on them while interrogating the criminal. The knights turn around and salute them with their arms at a forty-five-degree angle and three fingers at the center of their chest.

"We heard from some villagers that this criminal took some people's belongings?" One of them questioned.

"Yes, they did," Mother Theresa answers. "If it weren't for this young woman and her friend," the older woman motions at Amaryllis, "who knows what would have happened."

Amaryllis puts the hood of her cloak over her head to hide her embarrassment. The magic knights giggle at her shyness, but one of them glances at her grimoire, and he stops laughing immediately.

"I've never seen this kind of grimoire before," he mentions. He closes in on Amaryllis and tries confiscating it out of curiosity, but she moves away before he can. "Woah, okay," he exasperates. "Never seen that kind of reaction before.”

"They must have heard about my entry," Amaryllis thinks. "I'm done for."

"Pardon me, but we recently heard a young woman entered the Clover Kingdom undetected," another man explains. "Out of everyone we interviewed, they let us see their grimoire. You did not, however. So, it makes us wonder..."

"If," the man who tried confiscating her grimoire concludes, "you're that fugitive from Spade."

Amaryllis takes a few steps back before running away toward the outskirts of the town, avoiding the chaos that will soon unfold.

"Amaryllis," Theresa calls out, "wait!”

"You go inside," Amaryllis cries out. "Do NOT come close! I refuse to have someone else involved in my messes!"

The chase ends up short-lived thanks to one of the mages using chain magic, having Amaryllis bound and her mouth shut, making her unable to cast a spell correctly. The chains on her body remind her too much of her life in Spade, and her mana surges so much everyone close by shudders. Her breathing quickens, and she feels the fear and paranoia sweep into her body as she lies there feeling vulnerable.

"That's a lot of power," one mage expresses, "in a tiny body."

Amaryllis lays there and accepts her fate---despite how much she wants to free herself---causing a scene now would not be in her favor.

"Unhand her right this instant," Mother Theresa calls out. "If it weren't for her, so many people would have been missing some of their belongings!"

"Ma'am, please stay out of this," one of the magic knights orders. "If you let her stay here, you would have been arrested for aiding a fugitive."

"Please, Mother Theresa," Amaryllis begs, her voice quivering, "leave me be. I will be fine."

The older woman wavers for a little bit until she finally halts her actions. She nods, and the magic knights pick her up to take her further into town, where her jail cell awaits her.

~♣️♠️~

Escorted through the streets to humiliate, Amaryllis hangs her head low to shield her eyes from everyone. Whirrs from citizens wonder the same question about why she is out here. The crowd induces attention from other magic knights nearby or on their day off, overseeing it all develop but unable to help because this is not their squad.

Rumors circulated about how the young woman got to where she is, some of them saying they witnessed the attack the Purple Orcas made towards the woman and how she helped some citizens. However, what others recognize would be her tattered clothing and how she "must be a commoner" from snide nobles and royals if she ran away in the state she is in. None detected a grimoire on her, compelling everyone to presume the magic knights seized it.

Witnessing much of this, a boy of average height with long, messy vermilion hair maintains a third of his hair in a braid while leaving the rest in a chaotic, spiky hairdo. One of his prominent features is the red markings around his turquoise eyes, making them stand out. He wears a white tunic under a dark blue shirt with a high collar and gold trimming, a red sash holding the sweater together, and at the bottom, he wears white pants extending slightly below his knees and dark blue shoes.

He backs away from the large crowd and runs towards his home to find someone he knows can help her. He had never seen anyone so lifeless-looking before, and if the rumors were true about her helping those citizens, he could use it as leverage. He does not know what to do and wants to help her, but would anyone listen?

Making his way through the hallways, the sound of his shoes hitting the cobblestone floors echoes. He stops himself once he finds the room the young man was looking for and opens the door as he tries to catch his breath.

"Big Brother," the young man exclaims, "you must come quick!"

The older man sitting behind his desk has purple eyes with red markings around them, lengthy, straight vermillion hair nicely combed back while leaving his long fringe combed to the left in a wavy hairstyle. He has a diamond-shaped fleck of reddish pigment on the middle of his forehead and sports red earrings. His apparel is a white tunic covered by a dark blue shirt with long sleeves and a high collar, the sweater embellished with gold-colored fabric with perpendicular stripes designed on its edges, collars, and sleeves. He wears a purple sash around his waist to keep the shirt together. Moreover, he sports white trousers and tall ebony boots with a design comparable to his shirt.

Currently, he has a candle burning, causing the room to be dimly lit, at his desk as he works on some paperwork. The young man is surprised to find the older man up this late but understands, given his authority rank.

"Leopold," the older man inquiries, nose deep in paperwork, "what is it?"

"There's this woman," Leopold explains, "and I think she's in trouble! The Purple Orcas arrested her and are having her walk out in the streets to humiliate her, but there is speculation they hurt her just to cuff her!"

"Did she hurt them?”

"N-No, she did not, but she–"

"–Please explain to me," the older man instigates, glimpsing up from his work, "why should I interfere with another squad? They must have reasons beyond our knowledge on why they did that."

Leopold silences himself, knowing well his older brother is correct. The young man, however, will not back down from this because he can discern there is more to the story than anyone knows.

"You said the reason you became a magic knight is not only because you dream of becoming the next Wizard King," Leopold briefs, "but you want to help others in need."

"What is your case, Leo?"

"Fuegoleon, please," the young male implores. "This woman may need our help. There's word she helped some citizens in Nairn capture a criminal, but now she's being treated as one!"

Fuegoleon sighs while he massages his eyes with his left hand, endeavoring to think of what to say to him next. In his mind, he understands his young brother has good intentions, which is nice to have as a prospective magic knight like himself. Regardless, jumping into another squad's affairs never ends well for both sides. Fuegoleon can choose not to intrude if he wants, but his intuitions roar out, telling him he should check it out.

Regardless, he is grateful the woman helped some citizens in that town because the woman who shaped him into the magic knight he is now resides there.

"Leo," Fuegoleon states, "I will not help this woman. You may convince me down the line, but this woman probably did more things than we know of, so let us not be hasty and do anything irrational."

"If you insist, big brother," Leopold says, disappointed, "but please understand this woman looks... damaged. There's something off about her, and I do not know what it is."

Leopold exits his brother's quarters to head back to his chamber or check out the commotion again to see if anyone he knows has seen it. Fuegoleon continues his paperwork, but his little brother's comments reverberate through his mind as he continues—usually, the things Leopold informs him of have never bothered him until now. Fuegoleon cannot feel at least moderately proud of his brother for utilizing his intuition to determine something that bothers him and convey his concerns.

For the sake of it, he might inspect the woman's state in a day or two, depending on his agenda, and determine if what his little brother said was the truth or an overstatement.

#anime #black clover #crimson lion kings #fuegoleon vermillion #magic knight captains #leopold vermillion

[gioven2201]

Holy. Cow.

🤠Cowboys You Say?🤠

Zoro, Eustass, Sabo, Marco & Ace 🤠🤤 x fem!reader

Had a vacation out on 93 acres in the country and all I was thinking about…cowboys.

Warnings: bondage! Dom/sub! Pet names! Praise & degradation! Vaginal penetration! Bimbofication! Rough sex! Spanking! Hair pulling! Yata yata smut lol y’all know I write nasty

Cowboy divider by @saradika (I’m just loving all of your work so much thank youuuuu)

@votaeto @zorosdimples thought y’all might like this 🫣

Acres of land as far as the eye can see was before you. Majestic and overwhelming but it was now yours. Inherited from your late father, Edward, you had no choice but to return home to his prize. The ranch he loved second ONLY to you, to precious for you to just sell.

Patches of woods and forests littered with game even open fields for horses to run wild until tamed. There was a beautiful garden that stretched around the ranch, a pond with a family of ducks. A river with a strong current that only the toughest even dare swim, flowing just along the ranch’s right side.

The terrain was intense but luckily your father made sure he left you a great team to help you out.

*smut under the cut*

Lumberjack Ace 🪓who jumps out his pickup truck shirtless, drenched in a layer of sweat with an axe resting on his shoulder.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who was saddened and shocked at your grandfather’s death but happy seeing his pretty daughter inherit the ranch.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who tips his hat and winks at you with a side smirk as he walks, “Mornin’ darlin’.” The freckled face and cut abs flustering you.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who pours a bucket of water over his head before taking the sweet tea you offered after hours of chopping firewood.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who cleans the chimney for you in your freakish city that gets snow storms. The grand line farmland a whirlwind of weather.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who flirts the entire time with winks and smirks. “Don’t worry babydoll I’ll have this house as hot as you in no time.” Tossing the wood he chopped inside with a dramatic sigh.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who axe throws intruders wanting to harm you

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who makes you wear his hat when you ride him cause you’re his pretty cowgirl princess. “Aren’t you just a spitfire.”

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who fucks you hard against the trees he plans on chopping. Using you to see if they’re sturdy enough as your back rubs against the bark.

🪓 “Yeah pretty girl ya like that?” He’ll ask as he nips at your bottom lip making you whimper, pussy clenching. His cock will destroy your insides as the harsh tree rubs your skin raw. “Want my seed deep in that cute lil pussy of yours? I bet you do baby girl. Take every drop alright darlin’.”

Fucking your cunt hard in the forest as your screams bounced off the tall trees making him grunt as he paints that pussy white. “That’s my pretty girl.” 🪓

🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓

Doctor Marco 🩺 who rode in on a fucking horse with flowers in his hands to show his condolences.

Doctor Marco 🩺 who even studied animals in order to help your father when he stressed over his prized horse Whitebeard growing sick.

Doctor Marco 🩺 who made it a point to stop by everyday on his gorgeous marbled stallion, saying it was important for your health on such a secluded land.

Doctor Marco 🩺 who comes to your aid during the harsh heat when you almost had a heat stroke. “Wow there birdie~ can’t have you getting dehydrated on me.”

And !!

The treacherous winter when he finds you passed out in the house shaking still not used to a single fire heating the house. “Sweet bird what would you do without me~”

Doctor Marco 🩺 who sheds his clothes to warm you up the fastest way you can in the countryside. “Come here birdie I’ll keep you warm.”

Cock plunging in deep into your pussy to make you sweat. Your gasps and moans making him shiver, back arching off the bed. “D-doctor~ M-Marco feels so warm.” You whimper as he leans over pushing his weight on his hands.

“I know dove~ let me keep taking care of you. Make sure you stay nice and warm inside and out.” Marco’s thrust would be deep, really rough to make you sweaty and gasping. “I reckon I’ll have you feeling peachy in no time birdie.”

Doctor Marco 🩺 who even checks your gag reflex with his cock buried snug in your wet throat.

“Take a little more pretty thing.” Hand brushing your hair back with a gentle smile. Your eyes watery as you looked up at him in your pretty sundress soaked in your drool.

“There ya go dove doin juuuust fine.” Marco would grunt out as he shallowly thrusts into your throat. Cumming deeply into your tight mouth making you moan. Semen dripping down the sides making you whine and even messier.

🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who picked the prettiest mustangs for your father.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who supplies all the best horses in town. Even trains them too.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who washes your horses and loves watching you braid their hair afterwards in different styles. “I think thats one of my favorites sweet pea.” He’ll say coming up behind you all close.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who holds you close when a horse passes cause he too knows your pain

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who gets to train ladies all week but still doesn’t get behind them for a lesson, opting for his own stallion but insists on doing it for you. Saying you need the best.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who teaches you to ride. Thick cock brushing up against you as he wraps his arms around you. Breath heavy from the close proximity, “Doing great doll~” Voice raspy after a long ride of his cock brushing against you.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who buys you matching gloves for riding saying they’re the best and they’ll last the longest because of the quality but it’s because he likes you matching.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who wins all the horse racing championships

“Looking good doll.” Sabo drew out as he leaned against the railing where you were sitting in front row. All the other woman jealous, wanting his attention.

“How’s about I take a pretty lady like you out to a fancy dinner and a nice ride?” He winks at the last part hinting at a night of mystery that you so said ‘yes’ to.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who also makes you wear his hat when you ride him.

Eyes rolling back as he tugged on the knots, arms behind your back in reverse cowgirl like a leash.

“Just like that sweet pea move’em nice and slow fa me.” Sabo groaned out, voice raspy making you whine. Fat cockhead pushing past your cervix making you choke out moans.

“Ooooooowweee doll listen to you howl. Go head and cum on me ‘kay sweeetheart.” Sabo’s cocky when he fucks his fat cock up into your dripping pussy. His blue hat bouncing with his powerful thrusts, pussy squirting. “Now that’s a prize winning stallion! Fuuuuck!! I’m gonna have to breed you full after that ride.”

🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 Who brought you the biggest cow in the shop to show his condolences.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who still delivers fresh meats weekly even though you’re not sick like your father and very capable.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who always offers to sharpen your kitchenware when he delivers the meats to ensure you the best.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who loves pulling up to you grilling or smoking some meats and seeing your proud smile when you used his ingredients. “Please Zoro! You just have to join me for dinner! I think you’re gonna love how the steaks turned out! It’s great cut.”

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who can hog tie the fastest in the countryside. Seeing him wrangle up that boar with his cocky smirk made your thighs press together. Feeling like a sinner in church needing a sip of sweet tea with the way he wiped the sweat off his brow.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who always winks at you and tips his hat after winning the hog tying contest making everyone jealous.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who puts you in gorgeous knots and suspended ropes to stretch you out in .

“Dammit woman look at you suckin’ in this cock like a champion.” Zoro grunted as he watched his cock disappear down your sloppy throat. Spit and cum from an earlier load dripping all over your front. Pulling away he ripped your top open and latched his hungry mouth onto your breast. Your arms above you in ropes as you hung like a butchered pig for his taking.

“Prettiest little piggy to ever be eaten by me, I tell you what.” Zoro smirked as he left mark after amazing mark.

Tying your legs up and spread out so he can slide that fat ass cock all the way in with no interruptions. “Fuck yeah piggy lemme hear you squeal for this cock just butchering your insides.”

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who still tends to your 100+ acres of land cause “Ain’t no way in hell I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing a pretty lamb like you is doin all the work.”

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who calls you almost every farm/animal he can possibly think of. Lamb, pig, mouse, bunny, chickie, calf, heifer

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who comes to your aid whenever you need repairs around the house, but only does them shirtless.

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who drives the tracker shirtless in his overalls with a piece of straw in his mouth, hat tipped low. Winking at you when you give him a cool glass of lemonade for his hard work.

“Thanks lil calf but I think I might wanna drink on somethin’ else you can gimme me. Maybe some milk.”

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who buys you the prettiest dresses and shoes cause he’ll be doin all the hard labor anyways.

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who gets handsy the fastest cause he can’t help but want to let out all his stress on you. Looking like a sweet lil belle that he wanted nothing more than to corrupt into his pretty bimbo after a long day.

Farmer Eustass 🤠who’s a total stereotype. Wanting a beer and his dick sucked the second he steps foot in the door. Don’t worry he always returns the favor 😉

“Been thinkin’ bout these lips wrapped around my cock all damn day out on that field. Fuuuuck- that’s it chick, slobber all over me. “

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who roughly shoves your face in the hay as he fucks you ass up in the barn. Spanking you and pulling you back by your pigtails.

“Good fuckin’ calf. Letting me breed you full till you’re swollen wit my kids, tits drippin with milk for me.” Hips rocking into your cunt with a mission to fill you full. Stuffing your womb full of children to run on the farm.

“Fuck-my little cow being so good. Stay just like that babe.” Spanking you as he grabs both your pigtails in one large hand. “Sweet little heifer letting me breed her like she’s supposed ta wit outta fight. Come on moo for your owner.” Voice raspy as he’ll grip your ass, fucking you hard. Hay scratching into your chest as you cream around his cock with a scream. “Soundin’ so pretty when you get loud like that fa me.”

[gioven2201]

I needed to hear this. It is the main reason why I went into writing because I want to write something that people will relate to and if they are hurting from something, I want the story be their way of healing.

To any fic writers who worry they are wasting their time... I read a fic for a relatively small and inactive fandom about three years ago. And there was one specific scene where a character watched another dancing like an idiot to a beyonce song and it was so sweet and loving that even now years later I have that song on one of my spotify playlist so every once in a while it will play and remind me of that fic, and every time it does I smile and feel a little happier.

The stats on a fic will never really tell you if your writing touched someone. There's no numerical way to show you what impact you made. Maybe you are wasting time, or maybe you are writing something that someone will remember for a long time, something that will never fail to make them smile.

[gioven2201]

🤣🤣🤣🤣

Lucifero: Do you really think you could beat me, you magicless scum?

Liebe: No... but I'm really good with guns now.

Liebe, pulling out a mfing revolver: DANCE BITCH!!

[gioven2201]

[gioven2201]

Shepard of Fire: ♣️ III

Journeying by foot has been demanding for Amaryllis. Despite the fact she is walking around in the dark, everything else has become difficult, from the undersupply of essential reserves & funds to knowing the last time she bathed was long ago. However, she still walks on, hoping to find someplace hidden enough to heal some more away from anyone else, and will likely rely on some forests for food and shelter. Ideally, she wants to locate some woodland with a body of water nearby and possibly plants she could eat, but her familiarity with that could be more satisfactory. She must rely on hunting, but her mind is finding somewhere to get herself cleaned.

Surprised, the young woman noticed the lack of homes spreading for miles as she trudged on, whereas a few hours already passed since the golden-haired woman left that small village where that young boy, Asta, and a few others lived. The young woman wishes she could have stayed a few days longer. Regardless, in her mind, she would get too emotionally attached. If the Magic Defense Force locates her whereabouts and knights from over here get involved, the innocent lives in that village will be part of the crossfire. Thanks to her, countless lives ravaged do not sound the most outstanding, mainly when she sees how generous everyone there is.

An hour after daybreak, Amaryllis comes across tons of forest land spreading for miles, which is all she has seen on this trip, but she notices a body of water, and her face glows. "Finally," she sighs, smiling, "I can take a bath."

She limps to the body of water, and once reaching the edge of the lake, she sets down her grimoire, its new carrier, and withdraws her cloak on the grassy floor. She darts around to ensure no one else watches her as she prepares to extract her apparel. Once she thinks about it, she has not seen her body in its new bandages since her fresher ones, even the ones before the new ones and before that. She's hesitant to remove them now and skip the bath, knowing what she will see will disgrace her, letting the cause of them happen.

Her needs, however, are more critical than her current appearance, so she discards her clothing, folds them neatly, and sets them on top of her grimoire. Only left in her undergarments, she finally sees where her new bandages are and the old wounds that healed into nasty scars.

Her right forearm has a fresh and thick bandage, and her thighs have a new set of dressings, covering more skin this time. She feels the one around her neck, loving the texture of how fresh it is, and her midriff has a thicker layer because of that reopened wound. She looks over to the scars painting her body: her left forearm has a big patchy spot, looking like someone nearly took a chunk of flesh out, both wrists have deep laceration scarring thanks to its terrible stitch work, and her chest has some marks that healed and scars on her palms. She dreads the need to remove the newer bandages to let them breathe and debates about keeping them on. Of course, she has that extra set of clothes she wore on her rough journey to Clover's border and thinks the poor quality of those clothes will work better as wound dressings.

She takes a deep breath, begins removing her undergarments, and pulls her bandages one by one, getting underway at the forearm and working her way to her midsection. For her applications, she starts where the ends are and turns her head away to dodge the severity, knowing how each will potentially be disturbing. It will only hurt her more than the wounds do already.

"Being unclothed in the woods feels bizarre, but fortunately, it could be worse," Amaryllis thinks.

She sits in the cold water for a while to soak in the feeling and uses her hands to scrub off any dirt or grime accumulated on her body, being careful at the area around her new wounds. She tilts her head back to submerge her hair, using her fingers to comb through the strands. It is all knotted; her hands cannot get most of them like she wants. There is one section she has to be careful with because, over a week ago, she got a nasty gash.

Amaryllis freezes, listening to a man's voice calling out for someone—or something.

"Damnit, Captain," a male's voice says, "you can't let those wild beasts run loose whenever you take a dump."

"Wild beasts?" Amaryllis wonders.

She turns around in the water and sees a three-headed wolf standing behind her. Her eyes go wide, and in a split second, she uses some of the fire magic she mustered while resting. A gust of fire hits the wolf, and it yelps out in pain before going apeshit on the young woman. Amaryllis runs out of the water and moves her stuff to grab her grimoire, immediately turning to a page that will subdue the beast but not kill it.

Slouching on the ground, the beast stands inches from her face, and with her left hand, she touches the beast's face and casts her spell, "Flame Magic: Sleep Pyroalasis!"

Sleep Pyroalasis, a close combat spell, uses fire from Amaryllis's hand and transmits from the fingertips of the heat to another. It serves as a spinal pyro shock, sending heat through the spine and causing body impairment and slumber for a few minutes. It depends on how solid or much mana the wielder has, but it is perfect for fleeing or subduing someone briefly.

Once the spell takes effect, Amaryllis moves fast to get her and her stuff away before the beast falls to the ground with a loud thud. Her chest heaves as she holds onto her property, trying to control her breathing and heart rate, staring at the creature. Whoever is looking for the monster found it and the petrified golden-haired woman. The young woman looks and sees the man in question, the same one calling out for that monster.

Amaryllis sees a slender young man of average stature and build, with droopy-like eyes and light brown hair looking reasonably wild. He sports a black robe with a bull emblem on the right, a light green, loose-fitting tunic with long sleeves and tails at the back, and a white shirt. He also wears opaque trousers and a verdant pair of wide, knee-high boots that lace up the front. His grimoire holder on his left hip and models a couple of green earrings.

"Damnit," the male panics, "Captain Yami's gonna kill me!"

The light brown-haired male glimpses at the soaked blonde woman, his eyes lighting up, seeing a pretty woman. However, what also crosses his mind is the naked woman, trying to cover herself up the best she can, lying on the ground, and his captain's pet on the earth, unconscious next to her. He does not notice the scars on her body or the wounds exposed to the naked eye.

"My apologies, madam," the male says, smiling as he walks over to Amaryllis to get a better view of her. "My name's Finral, and if I knew there was a pretty lady such as yourself out here, I would have–"

At that moment, Finral notices the wounds.

"–helped you."

His eyes glance at each visible wound on her skin, branding her flesh like a sick illustration she has to wear for the rest of her life. He sees the woman's facial expression, wearing fear on her face like it is all she knows. He tries to move toward her, but she still has her grimoire out, noticing the spade on the cover. He kneels to her level, a foot away from her, and asks, "Did you get those wounds there?"

She nods, still shaking.

"Okay," Finral thinks for a moment before an idea comes to mind and says, "I'm going to go back to the base to get you something to eat. I'm bringing a friend of mine, too. I think you'll like her."

Amaryllis points at her throat to let Finral know about her condition. He takes a mental note, opens a portal that looks like a form of spatial magic to her, and leaves the young woman alone once more.

Amaryllis takes the time to grab her undergarments and puts them on before the male comes back. She grasps her old bandages to recover her wounds, recognizing she will not proceed with her soak. As she throws her shorts and tank back on her somewhat damp body, Finral's portal materializes again; this time, he has a bowl of something, and a woman around her age appears.

"Ugh, come on, Finral," the woman groans, "I got a headache, so quit being so noisy about this 'sickly-looking woman.'"

The woman Finral has with him is a tall, youthful woman with wavy mid-back length pink hair that remains loose in a lob hairstyle with bangs parted to the left side, purple eyes, full lips, and a full-figured body. She models a slim, sleeveless, fit, red-violet top and miniskirt that is exceptionally short and only obscures her buttocks, and wears red-violet evening gloves. Her top permits her to showcase much of her torso, with a sizeable v-shaped opening revealing part of her breasts and midriff, connected at one point around her navel region, and the cups holding her breasts have curvy edges.

She also models dark purple stockings and garter belts underneath her boots. Her thigh-high, red-violet boots are skin-tight and split at the collars, creating a V-shape. She furthermore sports a red-violet hat with a conical dome, dipping onto one side near the end. The cap also has a purple ribbon encircling its rim with a pin of the intricate design attached to it and a very wide brim. In addition, she totes her grimoire inside a lavender bag on her right side, strapping to a lavender belt around her waistline and a pair of earrings.

The pink-haired woman looks over to see Amaryllis's condition, realizing his squad mate did not exaggerate how bad she looked.

"Oh my," the woman gasps, "you poor thing."

Amaryllis keeps kneeling there on the grass, her lifeless baby blue eyes glancing back and forth between the two adults before her. Finral glances down momentarily, acknowledging he has the small bowl of food in his hand, and gives it to the golden blonde-haired woman. She takes the bowl of food and looks at it, examining its contents.

The clumpy consistency to the eye would not look pleasing; however, the sweet aroma pulls her in as the food warms her hands, as she proceeds to look at it. She glimpses up and notices Finral and the beautiful woman gabbing to each other in hushed voices, but she can hear the dialogue.

"Finral,” the woman says, “where the hell did you find her.”

"She was taking a bath out here–"

"–you were stalking her?! No wonder she's terrified!"

"Vanessa, look," Finral informs the woman, "I offered to get her help, but I think she's more afraid of someone ratting her out."

"We can't just leave her here! Quit being a coward!"

The two other grown-ups hear the sound of something growling, and they look over to see their captain's pet awakened. Worst part? It is pissed off.

Amaryllis sits in the grass, some of her food gone, and grabs the utensil out before she offers the rest to the beast. The animal sniffs the food twice before trying it and having it all, satisfied by the taste. The golden-haired woman uses one hand to hold the bowl while she utilizes the other to pat the creature, and slowly, the two of them gain their trust in each other.

"See," Finral speaks to Vanessa, watching the event unfold, "she's fine alone."

"Still,” Vanessa snaps, “I’m gonna ask.”

The pink-haired lady walks up to Amaryllis and kneels in front of her once the beast walks over to someplace else. At that instant, nonetheless, a different man yells out.

"FINRAL," he roars, "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

"Damnit," Finral panics, "it's Captain! I gotta run!"

Both women watch Finral use his spatial magic to transport himself and the beast someplace. The pink-haired woman giggles, watching him panic, and the golden blonde-haired woman watches the kind man who helped her disappear.

Vanessa darts back to Amaryllis, who uses her hand to run it over the grass, feeling the texture and loving it. The pink-haired woman watches her, trying to figure out what she has been through.

"So,” Vanessa asks, “you here by yourself?"

Amaryllis looks up and nods her head.

Vanessa pouts as she thinks about having the lady stay at the Black Bulls' hideout; however, her gang is known for its malignant demeanor and is deemed the worst squad in the kingdom. On top of that, her squad mates consist of a delinquent, a sociopath obsessed with fighting, Finral (a cowardly ladies' man), a criminal obsessed with his little sister, and a captain with a shabby exterior who sometimes shows no mercy on newcomers could terrify the woman. She does not want the woman to wander further into the kingdom because she can get herself hurt and turned in by other magic knights. Someone in Amaryllis's condition should not be wandering around aimlessly.

"Look," Vanessa says, "I'd ask you to crash at the hideout, but with how wild it is over there, I doubt you'd like it. The rest of the trip will be hazardous, trust me. But, there is a church in the Common Realm I can take you to. That OK?"

Amaryllis nods her head. Vanessa smiles and goes away for a bit to grab her broom. The young woman gets up and dusts the grass off her knees before putting her shoes and cloak back on. Putting her grimoire in its carrier, the pink-haired woman returns with a broomstick.

"Alright," Vanessa declares, "hop on, stranger!"

~♣️♠️~

"There is a rumor,” a magic knight says, “about a young woman who entered the Clover Kingdom undetected.”

Squad mates of the Purple Orcas, one of the nine Magic Knight Squads in the Clover Kingdom, have their meeting amongst each other.

"If she is from Spade," one man says, "we should capture her immediately."

"But,” another man asks, “why is she out here?"

"Whatever the matter is," Gueldre Poizot, the captain of the Purple Orcas, explains to his subordinates, "if we capture her, she might let us know something. Plus, if we take her back to the Spade Kingdom, they can offer some rewards."

All his men nod in agreement, realizing what is at stake to bring this woman back alive.

"That settles it," Gueldre announces, fixing his mask, "we're capturing the fugitive!"

All of the Purple Orca mages cheer loudly and begin their search for the woman in question.

#anime #black clover #crimson lion kings #fuegoleon vermillion #magic knight captains

[gioven2201]

Shepard of Fire: ♠️ 𝙸𝙸

Amaryllis jolts from her slumber to the sound of what appears to be a youthful gentleman shouting at the top of his lungs. The blonde woman also recognizes the raging migraine pounding in her skull and massages her temples to alleviate it the best she can. She speculates that a few hours of consistent sleep is all she has, but it could be better. Her body still aches from running, fighting, hiding, and resting against a rock; she has difficulty believing she managed that. She cannot tell if she is hungry because the thought of food makes her nauseous, but something to drink would not hurt.

Gradually, getting up from her resting position, she reties the cloth around her waist and picks up her grimoire to put it back in its initial resting spot within the fabric. She unfurls her cloak and shakes it off to get rid of the dirt it accumulated while on the ground. Carefully, while trying not to wince in pain with each step, she peeks from behind the stone to see the boy making the racket, rolling her eyes to see it is a child. She is astonished to see a young boy almost half her age and more astonished by what magic he does not possess. Plus, the fact he is doing pushups with one hand, too.

Amaryllis sees a young man of short stature with messy, ash blond hair with bangs in front of his forehead and a single strand going upwards from the middle of his head and keeping it together with a black headband, which has a red-colored four-pointed star with three stitches on the back of it. He wears a basic white tunic with a V-shape collar beneath a dark blue jacket with sleeves extending only to his elbows, and he sports matching shorts with stitch patterns on the left side. His trousers also stretch slightly below his kneecaps, and his shoes appear made out of two different fabrics from where she stands, with portions covering his ankles, and the soles are the same color as his jacket and pants. The details surrounding his toes are white, with a vertical stitch mark from the bridge to his toes.

Amaryllis tries her best to get away to keep up with her traveling, but she barely does that as she trips over her own feet and falls yet again, causing a loud bang as her body hits the floor, but this time, her bandaged midriff lands directly on a rock. She lets out a shaky breath as she lies face down in the dirt, her body too sore to get herself up. She does not hear the young boy call out to her. If anything, she is mad at herself for letting this happen again, but this time, someone else now knows of her existence. Now, knowing she exists to someone, who knows what will happen from now on?

"Hey, lady," the young boy asks, "you OK?"

Amaryllis knows she can try and give up or pretend she is dead. The second one sounds like a great option, but she is betting the young boy witnessed her. She tries to get up, but her body refuses, telling her she needs to continue resting. She hears the footsteps of the young child reaching her and internally panics because of the bandages on her body she practically forgot existed. She could feel his presence mere inches away and accepted her fate, skeptical of what he would do next.

"Hey, my name's Asta. I won't hurt you," he says to her, "but can you hear me? Are you hurt?"

She moves her head to the side to take a glimpse at the young boy talking to her and sees a pair of the liveliest, most caring green eyes she has ever seen. Concern paints his face like a canvas, and seeing how much care he has for a stranger like herself makes her chest ache. She continues trying to get up, and the young boy uses one of his arms to help her up, but he positions it strictly at her midriff, where one of her bandages is. She grits her teeth and hisses in pain, the feeling sharp like a dagger digging into her flesh. His left hand touches that area, and he feels something damp against her clothing: she is bleeding and has no idea why.

"Please..." was all Amaryllis could rasp.

The young boy nods and does not say a word by gently moving her weakened body onto her back and picking her up carefully. He carries her in his arms, and her entire body weight leans against him as something to cling to. Sweat slowly breaks on her forehead and brow as the excruciating pain builds up in her stomach region, having a feeling that is also where the internal bleeding must be taking place. She feels sick and weak and can barely open her eyes.

Asta makes his way toward the village and greets all the villagers he passes by as they look at him and the woman he carries, watching the scene before them. They all ask what is going on, but he can only say that he is unsure right now because his main focus is getting the blonde woman to the church for the others to help her. Out of everything to happen in the quiet village, this has to be one of the most intriguing things imaginable. He tries his best to be quick and careful not to disturb or hurt the woman in his arms while having no idea what her story is, where she came from, or why she was hiding. Getting her to safety is the only thing he wants to do, and he knows exactly where to go.

"We'll take care of you," Asta declares, "I promise."

Amaryllis barely opens her eyes to see a small building with a few people outside, cleaning, talking, and playing, not even noticing the two of them. With her vision blurry, she can barely make out a nun, a tall yet slender boy with raven hair (who looks strangely familiar to her and does not know why), and a few children of different ages playing. "This must be where he lives," she thought.

"SISTER LILY!” Asta calls out when he finally reaches the church and gets Sister Lily's attention. “LOOK!”

Sister Lily looks at Asta and instantly detects the woman he carries, dropping whatever she is doing to run toward Asta. The raven-haired woman gently touches the blonde's forehead with the back of her hand, feeling her clammy and burning skin.

"Asta," Sister Lily questions, "where did you find her?"

"I was training when I found her lying in the dirt," Asta confesses. "Look, she needs help. She's badly injured."

Sister Lily looks at the golden-blonde woman's abdomen, gasping at the sight of tiny amounts of blood seeping through the tunic. "Yuno," Sister Lily tells the other young boy, "take the children someplace else. I don't want them seeing this. Asta," the raven-haired woman instructs the ash-blond male, "tell Father Orsi what's going on. Please take her inside and lay her down on one of the beds. I'll get some medical help."

Asta nods and quickly takes her through the church doors, where he sees Father Orsi already a step ahead of the ash-blond male who most likely overheard what Sister Lily said. The silver-haired male helps Asta with the woman in his arms by carefully laying her on the bed, and the two of them wait for the doctor's arrival.

~♣️♠️~

A few days pass, and everyone within the church patiently waits for Amaryllis to awaken. While aiding her wounds, the village doctor brought to Father Orsi's and Sister Lily's attention her grimoire, letting them know she is not from around here but from the Spade Kingdom. They both wonder what she is doing and why she decided to travel, but they are more concerned about her well-being once they learn about the bandages on other places of her body. Since Asta never got her name, everyone else did not know what they should call her, but one of the little ones in the orphanage thought to call the woman "Goldie" because of her hair color. So, whenever they talk about her, they refer to the woman as that.

Today, like clockwork, Sister Lily does her routine to check in on the golden-blonde woman to swap out the dried-out cloth for a cold, freshly damp one for her forehead after each meal. She says a prayer, hoping for the sleeping woman to wake up soon and for her injuries to heal quickly. After her prayer, she exits the room to begin all the chores requiring some work depending on the time of day, knowing the children will be willing to help her or head to bed if it is dusk.

As a few hours pass since the last time Sister Lily placed a cloth on her forehead, Amaryllis stirs a bit from her slumber before opening her eyes to barely make out the ceiling above, letting her know it is nighttime. The golden-haired woman wonders how she got here but then recalls the young boy aiding her by carrying her weak body to the building she is in. Gradually, getting out of bed, Amaryllis's bare feet hit the chilly wooden floor, the feeling foreign to her because all the golden-haired woman had known for years was hard stone floors. Her body, now wearing a white cotton tank top and shorts, still aches throughout, but the dressings on her body are refreshed and sterile, plus better than the ones she used to have.

She tries her best to utilize everything in that room to sustain her, hoping she does not stumble down somewhere again in the dark as she looks for her possessions. She does not know this tiny place at all and wishes she had tried to do some research before escaping carelessly. Nevertheless, doing it this way would be adequate so she can investigate more things on foot and discover more as she goes on. Of course, she is not worried about healing properly before continuing her grand adventure in unfamiliar territory. She can do that once she is much more familiar with the area. She does not know what lurks out here; all she has is herself.

Amaryllis's eyes eventually adjust to the darkened room, and she finally sees her grimoire on a dresser on the other side of the small space. Yet, she sees it in a brand new burgundy-colored grimoire holder, and on top of it is a note, saying, "to keep it safe," in beautiful handwriting. She takes her grimoire out of the carrier, opens the hardbound, places the note on top of the first page, and closes it before putting it back into the pouch. She almost did not recognize her cloak and her original change of clothes, freshly cleaned and neatly folded to the right of it. She picks the clothes she wore here over the tank top and shorts, picks the manteau off the dresser, and notices it is untattered, unlike when she arrived here. She slips that on, finds her old boots next to her bare feet, and slips on the worn-down articles of attire, for they have seen better days.

She quietly opens the bedroom door and slowly shuffles down the hallway leading to the front door, trying her best not to make a sound. She discovers while walking that this place is a church and an orphanage. It is a small yet quaint building with enough room for everyone to enjoy their lives, even if they must share a bed or two. It seems peaceful here, and she would love to have the kind of life away from everyone else if she was not a fugitive on the run, a high-ranking noble, or someone with so much baggage to carry. Laying low out here would be a more reasonable idea to keep her off everyone's radar, but she has no desire to make friends or vegetate somewhere.

She reaches the front door, peacefully opens it despite its few creaks, and absorbs the beautiful night sky with millions of stars and the lush verdant grass stretching for miles. She notices how peaceful it is here, and no one is awake, making her getaway easier. She shuffles along the dirt trail to head out and away from the church, not wanting to bug everyone with her issues and injuries. However, as she makes it a few feet from the building, a young boy calls out, calling her "Goldie," getting her attention.

Amaryllis turns around and sees Asta rushing to her, wearing a white tunic and the pair of trousers he had on when they first met. Astonishment paints his emerald green eyes as he tries to figure out how she is moving regardless of her state and why she is departing so late so soon. He awoke to the sound of footsteps, which only captured his attention because he knew the visitor he found outdoors was still in the building and worried about her well-being like everyone else.

"Why are you leaving so soon?" Asta asks her. "Don't you want to heal a bit more?"

Amaryllis shakes her head and uses her fingers to tap her throat, hoping it lets him know she cannot speak, or she needs water. Her voice barely exists for several reasons, but most of it is due to the climate changes she endured recently.

"Here," Asta says, "let me get you some water."

The ash-blond male runs and grabs some water for the golden-blonde female. She takes the cup from his hands, curtly nods a 'thank you,' and drinks the water out of desperation, needing it more than anything. She pivots to the side to conceal her mouth and coughs hard, attempting to clear her throat. The taste of blood vanished, and the taste of bile remains, but not as potent as when she first got sick. The taste is unsettling, and she understands ingesting something might help, but she does not feel famished and has not been for a few days.

Amaryllis passes the cup back to Asta, who sits it on top of one of the fence posts before bringing his attention to the golden-haired woman. She kneels and has a stick in her right hand, penning something in the soil for Asta to read. He kneels next to her, where Amaryllis uses an ounce of her fire magic to construct a little firey orb forming in her other palm so the ash-blond male can read what she wrote.

'I want to thank you for helping me,' she wrote.

"It was no big deal," Asta brushes the compliment off, "but everyone else was worried about you. Kinda thought you'd stick around to say your goodbyes, but I don't know what you're really up to."

'As much as I would like to,' Amaryllis pens, 'I don't want to cause you all much trouble.'

"Huh," Asta wonders, "why would you say that?"

Amaryllis's hand wavers on what to write out next because there are two choices she can assemble: tell the young boy about her troubles or beat around the bush for both of their security. She makes up her mind quickly and pens, 'I have been through a lot for many years, and I do not want to drag you guys into that.'

Asta nods, not apprehending what the golden-haired woman indicates by that, but does not want to implore too much information from her.

"Can I at least get your name," Asta asks her.

Amaryllis smiles and spells out her name, but also a little nickname he can call her, 'Ryllis,' which is one of the most natural things she can do for herself. 'Look,' Amaryllis continues writing, 'I need to go, but thank you so much again.'

Asta and Amaryllis stand up from the kneeling position, and before they move on their separate ways, the golden-haired woman gives the ash-blond male a big hug, startling the latter. She pulls away from the hug and continues her journey, unsure where the route will be leading her but wishing there is someone, or something, out there for her.

#anime #crimson lion kings #black clover #fuegoleon vermillion #magic knight captains #clover kingdom #spade kingdom #fanfiction #fanfic #black clover oc

[gioven2201]

Shepard of Fire: ♣️ I

"𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓽. 𝓣𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓭𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼, 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓾𝓷. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮."

–“Right Left Wrong” - Three Days Grace

"GET THAT WOMAN BACK HERE!"

"AMARYLLIS FROM HOUSE OF LODERN IS ESCAPING!"

Amaryllis exits through the castle walls that captivated other women and herself, wearing just enough clothes to keep her warm and her grimoire. She does not know how her weakened state allows her to run faster than she can imagine across the snowy ground as if her life depended on it. She hears the outcries and barbs coming from members of the Mage Defense Force, the supposed ones "protecting" the Spade Kingdom, as she races away from years of hell and trauma pursuing her.

The Mage Defense Force is the Spade Kingdom's military corps. Governed by a Commander in Chief, it diverges into four branches, each led by a Division Commander. The institution was entrusted with safeguarding the country's locals and monarchical clans. However, they are the same ones who did nothing to aid her or the others and the things they decided to let slip by, preying on the weak per the Dark Triad's orders.

The Dark Triad she knows consists of three mages of the Zogratis bloodline, Dante, Vanica, and Zenon, who rule the Spade Kingdom. They call their immediate underlings the Dark Disciples, and they are all backed up by the Upper-Class Devil powers. Numerous years ago, they seized the rule of the Spade Kingdom from the royal lineage, House Grinberryall. The Dark Triad used fear to overpower the citizens and take control of the nation.

For fourteen years of her life, she was a hostage. They used her and others as bait to help with training because the siblings desired ones with potentially strong magic to help hone their sorcery. It was either that or overlooking her family, as they suffered the consequences for not submitting to their rule. She only surrendered because her life was at stake, and the country'𝚜. However, the only thing she genuinely knew growing up was the objectifying nature of the Dark Triad. Memories of her childhood are faint.

To the young woman, she is nothing more than a pawn out here and always will be. A vessel for training and other horrifying things to keep their sadistic pallet satisfied with whatever deviant plan they have, no matter what. All she did was heed their directives for most of her life, which only traumatized her and the others. Of course, when you let individuals with so many screws loose overthrow the nation, things are bound to go south.

Amaryllis learned over time not to showcase her emotions. Right now, fear paints her blue eyes as she maneuvers through the outskirts of the domain, avoiding running into anything or anyone, guiding herself to the Neutral Territory. Her feet tromp the fresh white snow with that familiar crunch she loved as a child. Building snow forts and having snowball fights, many of the kids incorporated their magic with the playful battles, too, to make things interesting. Pants and gasps escape her soft lips, trying to silence them as the icey atmosphere chills her lungs. It feels like she is breathing in pins and needles as she tries to avert herself from making more racket than the others are with her getaway. She never dreamed of sprinting and seeking refuge in a region riddled with monsters, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"This better be worth it," Amaryllis thinks. "The monsters I faced here are worse than what's out there."

As a thin layer of mana skin protects her from the gruesome cold weather surrounding her, she knows it will help protect her from future circumstances. Mages eventually will give up on their chase, knowing she is steering towards her grave. The Strong Magic Region—known for having monsters and crazy mana—will be the perfect yet imperfect hideout because wherever she goes now is better than where she has been.

"SHE IS BEAST FODDER NOW!"

Running away crossed her mind numerous times as a hostage, but she never thought today would be the day she fell through with that plan. She reached a point where logical thinking would not do her any good. Tragically, it only happens when she finally has peace of mind. Not as diluted as everyone else and not as absorbed in the nonsense about devil worshiping as those bastards in the castle are. She is tired of being there and how others treat them despite their position of power.

It has been over a decade since those times existed. Faded memories cross her mind daily, a vice or a saving grace from what she endured. She does not expect those times to come back anytime soon; however, she knows she will die a happy woman once they do.

"They must have given up on me," she thinks. "But I'm not in the clear yet."

She can only seem to run straight ahead as her adrenaline pulsates through her veins, nullifying any pain she feels from every inch of her body. Her shoes are slowing her down at this point, but her mind keeps telling her one thing:

"If you stop, they WILL kill you."

As she runs through the depths of the Strong Magic Region, the sharp pain in her legs feels like someone has stabbed her, eventually forcing her to collapse. She never realizes it until she trips over a rock and lands face-first into more snow-covered rocks. She tries to push herself up, but her arms give out from underneath her, proving her weakened state.

"Just a little while longer," she rasped.

With all her strength, arms quivering like slime, muscles aching like someone nearly ripped them out of her sockets, she pushes herself to kneel in the snow, not caring if her legs get frigid. She looks down at her reflection in the iced-over pond and notices a gash on her forehead towards the left. However, it is not the only thing she sees either.

It has been years since she correctly looked at herself, but all she can see are sunken baby blue eyes; what used to be full of life turned into empty, exhausted voids in her drained complexion. Her pale skin looks gaunt and skeletal, for she does not notice herself or the person she once knew because her resemblance could pass as a corpse to her. Her golden-blonde hair is a complete bird's nest because she does not know when she bathed last. Once she reaches warmer weather, bathing will be a top priority, but she is still determining when that will be. Beyond her complexion, she notices the poorly swathed bandages wrapped around her neck as she delicately traces over the others on her mid-thighs, another on her right forearm, and another wrapped around her midriff. The garments obscure most of them, but more is needed.

Amaryllis applies some of the clean snow next to her to the gash on her forehead to clean up the dried blood. It might not be savvy, but she traveled too light with her getaway. She only grabbed what she thought she needed on a whim, which was a little. She remembered her grimoire, wrapped around in a piece of cloth from her old blanket at the base, but she must invest in a carrier soon.

As she applies the snow on the area, with the occasional wince of pain, her mind races back to who she is and the ones she left behind.

Amaryllis Lodern is a high-ranking noble and the eldest daughter of the House of Lodern out of five children. Because of her family's position of power in the country, they left them until her family went bankrupt for reasons unbeknownst to her knowledge. The fee to have her family spared was to whisk her away to the castle when she got her grimoire because she was the most powerful mage and the prettiest in the family—or from the rest of the nobles in general. She was her family's meal ticket to freedom, or, better terms, their sacrifice.

The price she paid was her sanity, but in return, she scarcely made friends there with the other women who got crowded with her as a hostage. They resented her because she had aristocratic blood, but they sometimes had empathy for her because she consistently got the worst treatment because of her powers.

However, they begged her to take them when she returned from training and broke down that wall. She knows, once found, people will ask, "Why did she run away?" However, she has good reason.

Her clothes were tattered and torn, and she limped into the room with many others who tried to use their magic to keep the castle's defenses going. Today was yet another "training session," as members of the Dark Triad (or her favorite term to refer to them: those sick bastards) called it. Members of the country's military escorted her to a separate area where those labeled "damsels in distress" stayed.

The mages shoved her into the same room she had known for years and closed the door behind her. She walked over to where her so-called sleeping area was—merely a cot and a thin blanket—and sat down, the creak of the cot tolled in her ears. From her perspective, she examined the dimly lit room, precisely like a dungeon, and saw the other women trapped alongside her, lacking the emotions in their eyes like hers. Some said nothing to each other, traumatized beyond repair, and some talked about what they would do once they were free. They were all around her age, but she also noticed the remainder of the women comforting a few girls she had never seen before, which could mean one thing: they were the "recruits" who got their grimoires weeks ago. Each of them looked like they were fifteen to sixteen years old. Everyone, herself included, knew they were refreshing the litter.

Every few years, if desperately needed, the Mage Defense Force will scour through the country to find new young wizards in training to help with their sinister and diabolical plans. She knows if the day comes when the royal family reclaims the throne, there is no telling what will happen to them. Some argue that they are accessories to The Dark Triad's crimes, leading to persecution of war crimes they never committed. It will not be today, but someday, she knows it will happen.

However, she did know today was not an ordinary day. The weather outside was far more treacherous than usual around this time of the year. It may be because she had a gut feeling doomsday would be arriving soon based on her training mere minutes ago, but today was the day she would fall through with her plan since being in there. Finally, she would break through those walls to make everyone's dream a reality for herself. If she led a revolution by doing that, that was up for the others to decide.

She ripped off some cloth from her blanket, but only enough to keep her grimoire inside without falling out, and tied it around her waist. The remainder of it she shoved inside the makeshift carrier as extra bandages. She grabbed her cloak she had made years ago and covered herself up, hoping it would keep her warm enough. She got up from her cot and limped to the center of the room. Everyone minded their business until she announced, pointing at the wall before her, "EVERYONE! MOVE AWAY FROM THAT WALL!"

All of the women backed away, confused by what she meant. Activating her mana zone, she pulled out her grimoire and flipped the pages to choose a proper spell for this special occasion. "Flame Magic," she cast, "Blaze of Glory!"

A giant ball of fire developed in her right palm before she forced it into the concrete walls. The bright orb hit the wall with a loud explosion heard from miles echoed off the castle walls, resulting in her being the center of attention, but she did not care. Her mind was in a haze as rational thinking deserted her when she saw an opening to flee. Debris surrounded the gaping hole inside and outside, letting the brutally cold weather in. Countless women begged her to take them on her escape. She paid no mind because, ultimately, one mage turned into multiple as she sprinted toward the void and into the blistering cold blizzard that was happening.

They begged because she was the only one brave enough to run away and bold enough to oppose the rule of the Dark Triad countless times. Ironically, most of them dubbed her brave in the past because, since day one, death was never on the agenda, though she begged for that mercy innumerable times while imprisoned. Spare someone else's life and have them take hers instead. They let her live to see if her spirit smashed under pressure as time passed.

Her time of reexamination and consolation unexpectedly ceases as some winter monsters decide to sneak up behind her. She pivots around, facing red eyes and fang-like teeth. Hunger in their eyes, they see her as prey, but they do not know what she went through to get out of there.

"Fire Creation Magic," she cast, letting her grimoire turn to its page, "Internal Heatwave!"

Internal Heatwave utilizes little flares attaching to certain parts of the body. At a rapid pace, the heat entering them can cause hyperthermia, resulting in the body overheating and making them too sick to move. It usually drains some of Amaryllis's power, but while she uses a bit of her mana skin to keep herself warm, it drains her twice as fast.

"I guess I'm not done running," she thought.

She forces her body to get up and evade, hoping she is closer to the perimeter of the Clover Kingdom and out of the Spade Kingdom.

~♣️♠️~

Finally passing the border around the time daybreak would approach in a couple of hours, Amaryllis reaches The Clover Kingdom's periphery. Leaning against one of the trees, looking across the grasslands, she can barely make out a small, quiet village up north. At least, that is what she can tell from where she stands. Running through the Neutral Zone in her condition made things twice as complex, but she is relieved she is out and alive. She barely thought she could make it out of there alive, but she guesses training with devils has benefits, too. 

She moves from her position to take a few steps forward, but before she makes it any farther, her stomach gives her another idea: puking in a nearby bush.

The strong taste of bile on her lips grosses her out, but the taste of blood also shocks her. She understands the most recent training session took a massive toll on her body, but she did not expect this outcome. In the past, cuts and bruises were the initial wounds to form from the training. Then, the injuries would get deeper and deeper as the years went by, and sometimes psychologically suffocating her. She recalls no internal bleeding from them, but she knows they did a number on her this time.

Amaryllis's body still has some adrenaline pulsating through her bloodstream. She uses the opportunity to wander to some nearby shelter away from the village. Her feet tote along the ground, her shoes scarcely having traction from all the running throughout the years and even from her recent adventure. She cannot help but take in the beautiful skies and scenery before her. She could stay here for a while and live in the forest to survive or get a job within the kingdom to afford food and living expenses. She needs to figure it out, but not right now.

She reaches what looks like a gigantic rock and decides it would be the perfect place to seek refuge. She goes around to the front and notices it is a demon skull.

"Great," Amaryllis deadpans, "more demons."

She rolls her eyes and heads inside to see lots of grass, debris, and trees, knowing this will be perfect for her. Looking around, she finds a large boulder to lean against, perfect for finally getting some shuteye. Plus, it will disguise her presence, too. She removes the cloak she wore, now tattered like her clothes, folds it up, and sets it down. She pulls out her grimoire and sits it on top of her cloak, and whereas the cloth around her waist carries her grimoire and the extra piece of fabric she kept, she will use that as a blanket like she did while imprisoned.

She sits down, her back and head leaning against the stone and the fabrics covering her legs to relax her body, mind, and muscles finally.

She closes her eyes, and before she knows it, she succumbs to the desperately well-needed sleep.

#fuegoleon vermillion #black clover #magic knight captains #black clover fuegoleon #anime #crimson lion kings #Spotify #fanfic #fanfiction #black clover oc

[gioven2201]

Shepard of Fire: Summary

Amaryllis Lodern, a high-ranked noble from the Spade Kingdom, spent much of her life knowing The Dark Triad's reign of The Spade Kingdom, but for fourteen years, she was a hostage. In exchange for the Dark Triad sparing her family when they took the throne, she sacrifices herself to them, and the Mage Defense Force takes her to the castle for enslavement for many years to do ungodly things.

For fourteen years, she suffered gruesome injuries, loss, and traumatic experiences. Used (but not limited to) as bait to help train. Something she knows will eventually become things from the past. She did keep her hopes high.

One day, she escapes the snowy lands with barely anything in her possession and heads into the Neutral Zone. Running the snowy, foggy land is deemed a dangerous task, but after so many years of suffering, she's numb to it. She barely survives the ordeal.

All hope seemed lost once captured, that is until she meets a pair of purple eyes belonging to a particular magic captain, and she knew things would get better.

Or will they?

DISCLAIMERS:

1. This story will cover sensitive topics.

2. I do not own Black Clover, but only the OCs. Black Clover belongs to Yūki Tabata.

I will be dropping the AO3 link and also release the chapters here, too if anyone reading this doesn’t have AO3.

#fuegoleon vermillion #black clover #magic knight captains #crimson lion kings #fanfic #anime

[gioven2201]

Oh my god… I can see this happening 🤣

[Asta, Magna and Zora are trapped in a hole and Luck gets a rope - only to have cut it up into three pieces for each of them]

Zora: Tie them together, Luck! Can you tie a knot?

Luck: I cannot.

Magna: Ah, so you CAN knot.

Luck: No. I cannot knot.

Magna: [in disbelief] Not knot?

Luck: Who's there?

Asta: Asta!

Luck: Asta who?

Zora: No! Asta, eh... Luck, you'll need more than two knots.

Luck: Not possible.

Magna: Ah, so it IS possible to knot those pieces.

Luck: Not these pieces?

Asta: Yes, knot those pieces!

Luck: Why not?

Magna: 'Cause it's all for naught!

[all three of them laugh]

Zora: ...I'm suddenly aware why everyone avoided this mission.

Luck: Oh well, I can’t tie a knot. But there is something I can do! [grabs all of the rope pieces]

Asta: Don’t worry Zora, Luck is very clever!

Luck: [holds up all of the rope, now tied into a bow] I can tie a bow!

Magna: See?

Zora: [screams in frustration]

[gioven2201]

🤣🤣🤣🤣

*Roundabout starts playing*

[gioven2201]

I believe this

Ok, so while I do believe Asta has the most atrocious handwriting, like his handwriting is basically chicken scribbles. I think he has the most perfect grammar ever, like his punctuation and grammar structure is the most well put paragraph you’ll ever see, the problem is that you can’t read it.

Meanwhile, I believe Yuno’s the opposite. Like my man has the most elegant and beautiful cursive hand writing known to man, yet this bitch has poor grammatical skills and misspells a lot of the words in his mission reports, no one knows about that fact except for Mimosa and Klaus because they’re the ones who go over his reports always before Yuno turns them in, to make sure he redoes them better in a more well put together structure and correct spelling order.

In conclusion, Asta has the hand writing of a 5 year old but the writing ability of an English poet. While Yuno has the hand writing of an English poet but the grammar skills of a child.

And yes, Asta takes the piss at Yuno for it