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needcake · 2 years

Text

day 1: royalty

Engport | M | 1,2k

Warning: Dark fic, murder

@engportevents

His father keeps the crown in the throne room. The metal is old, worn, the jewels are dull with age. It will be his brother’s once their father passes. It will never be his, he will never hold it in his hands, feel its weight on his head.

He was born too late – third in line, spare of the spare.

“If you want it,” Gabriel laughs in his ear, hands warm and heavy on his shoulders, teeth sharp against his skin. “You should take it.”

The crown glimmers with the light that shines from the great stained glass windows in the throne room, accommodated in its red velvet cushion, protected by a sleepy guard. Arthur could take it. He could physically remove it from its resting place, smuggle it with him to his chambers. But the crown is only a representation of what he truly wants.

He grumbles at his husband and shrugs him off, takes his hand instead. “We’ll be late for the ceremony.”

Gabriel takes off his overcoat once they enter their apartments, removes his shoes and kicks them about, leaving a trail of clothes as he walks towards the water basin. Arthur scrunches his nose at the messiness. Gabriel is both a blessing and a curse in his life. The husband the courts and his mother thought was most suitable for him, a foreign man who spoke a foreign language and had foreign customs. A favorable political alliance with a smaller, distant Kingdom, not important enough to marry the heir to the throne, but possessing enough titles and land to be suitable for him.

He is a blessing and a curse.

Gabriel looks back over his shoulder at him, smile wicked and knowing, slowly removing the last of his garments and letting it fall and pool at his bare feet. Arthur’s eyes drift down his spine, following the curve of his naked waist. When he looks up at him again, Gabriel’s smile is gone, fingers curling to call him forth.

And he suits Arthur just fine.

The war with the neighboring country fills their audience room with chatter. Every man of noble birth has an opinion to share, every hardened general has a plan and a strategy. His father the King listens to it all and keeps his silence, old hands clasped over his mouth, eyes following the movement of the room without retaining any of the information.

His brother sits by his side and whispers in his ear. What he says is what the King orders, what he thinks is what the King considers.

Arthur burns with rage in the shadows. Anger and outrage and envy.

Their father will never listen to him as long as Alasdair has his ears. And soon it will be Alasdair himself who sits at the throne and commands the country.

It will never be him. Born too late, spare of the spare.

“Where have you been?”

His question is laced with accusation and Gabriel raises an amused eyebrow at him as he walks into their apartment, unclasping his cape and letting it fall carelessly on the ground, sorting through a bouquet of wild flowers still damp with dew.

“The weather was quite lovely earlier,” he says and Arthur looks at the darkened skies and promising rain through the window, frowns at him. “I thought I might take a walk.”

“Were you with someone?”

Gabriel smiles wickedly at him, abandons his flowers to come kneel by his side in front of the fire, wet hands touching his. “I was attending to our affairs,” he says, promises, kissing his knuckles with moist lips. “I want nothing more than your happiness.”

Arthur sighs, caresses his temple and his cheek. “Don’t you worry about my happiness, it will only come when I attend my father’s funeral, and even then it will not be complete.”

Gabriel’s eyes shine and reflect the flames of the fire beside them, teeth grazing sharply over his knuckles, staring unblinking and knowingly at him.

“Then I shall make it complete,” he says, promises, turns his hand to kiss his palm.

His middle brother dies a fortnight later. A fever that would not break, a sudden, sharp, mysterious infection.

His mother cries inconsolable, his father stares into the nothing, mind lost and increasingly untethered, leaning even more heavily on his brother for support.

Envy and anger burn ever hotter on his stomach, but it sharpens into clarity as the casket is closed and placed inside the marble tomb.

He is now spare to the heir. Second in line and one step closer to the crown.

Alasdair’s wife announces the coming of a baby. A drop of happiness in an ocean of grief and for a moment their father’s eyes spark with lucidity.

Gabriel offers him a drink in the solitude and privacy of their chambers.

Some things are better left unknown, he whispers to him in their bed, lips pressed to the corner of his lips, hands warm over his ribs, before Arthur slips into a dreamless sleep and knows not what happened next.

In the morning he wakes up to screams.

The heir and his wife were found dead in their chambers, the killer had already been arrested, an infiltrated agent from the neighboring country.

Gabriel’s hand is heavy on his shoulder when they stand in the audience room, watching his mother wail and his father’s mind slip further and further into oblivion.

“You must take your brother’s place in court, the King cannot rule in this state,” the King’s advisors say, herding him through the corridors. “We must launch an attack on Moselle at once. They are still denying the attack, but we have the confession of the killer. We must show them that Sutton will not accept this without reprisal. Águeda has already expressed their support, now that you are the heir, we can use your husband’s influence to have them send us supplies and troops.”

Arthur nods and follows them briskly to the throne room, listening to their propositions while his mind whirls.

They open the heavy doors for him and there is lays, sitting on its red velvet cushion, his father’s crown soon to be his.

If you want it, Gabriel’s voice whispers from his memory, you should take it.

His advisors continue talking over him, but Arthur’s mind is elsewhere, caught between Gabriel’s warm hands and moist lips, his eyes glinting wickedly in the darkness.

“Where have you been?” he asks when Gabriel enters their chambers, soon to be emptied when they move to the bigger, roomier apartment of the heir to the throne.

Gabriel unlaces his shoes, toes them off and leaves them carelessly on his way to him by the fire, fingers cold and damp when they circle his wrists.

“Tending to our affairs. Águeda has agreed to send us grain and men. I asked for our warships as well, but my father is reluctant. I will have to find some other way to persuade him.”

“Maybe there’s someone you could kill to make them change their minds,” he says lightly, Gabriel’s smile stretching over his sharp teeth, his eyes unblinking and knowing.

“Maybe there is,” he agrees, kisses his knuckles, bites gently on the bones.

He’s a blessing and a curse, Arthur thinks, caressing his cheek, his temple, pulling him closer to kiss his lips, touching the curve of his waist while the fire cackles and burns beside and within him.

It suits him just fine.

#engportweekevent #engportweek #engport #hws england #hws portugal #hetalia #a wild fic appears #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #tw murder

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chromes-corner · 2 years

Note

This a request of licorice cookie trying to impress the reader that is literally royalty.

yknow what that's totally something he would do LOL

this one's a bit shorter, but hope ya enjoy it regardless!!

---

Wine and Wizardry

Licorice/Reader

Notes: fluff and teasing lol

Content Warnings: alcohol mentions; reader gets a bit tipsy

A/N: how do i write licorice without him sounding like an anime character

You’ve never seen so much concentrated royalty in your entire life. Everywhere you look, there are fanciful dresses and gem-imbued adornments. Sugar horses gallivant down the cobbled streets, towing along chattering cookies in their luxurious carriages. Haughty accents echo against resolute walls that stand tall and proud. You can't turn a corner without bumping into someone of a highly-esteemed House.

There’s really no wonder why so many royal families have taken a vacation to the Hollyberry Kingdom, however. The draw of a potential seat at the throne has certainly attracted many a monarchy to the esteemed castle. For the low price of entering an heiress in an aptly named “princess competition,” the sprawling berry fields and grand Hollyberry Hall could be theirs.

Speaking of berry fields…

You swirl your wine around in your chalice, leaning against a towering pillar inside the Palace. Sunlight pierces through the windows, and great rosy curtains billow in the draft. Royal cookies are gossiping all around you as they sip at their drinks, waiting anxiously for the next challenge to begin. Princesses have begun to line up with their barrels. Their nervous energy permeates the room as some of them give their balance a test run before the games officially begin.

You’d heard talk that the cups are bottomless here, and damn, they weren’t lying. A bowtied butler sweeps gracefully over to you and asks if he may refill your glass, which is barely half empty, and you gladly accept. Its sweet berry flavor and slight fizz make you grateful that the rumor proved to be true, and you nurse at it as you scout out the area.

As your eyes sweep over the crowd, your gaze falls on a rather conspicuous color in the sea of saturated hues. A black, ragged cloak hunches over a glass much like your own, standing out like a wilted sapling in the field of flowery pinks and purples. He holds an ominous-looking scythe, only adding to the outlandishness of the stranger. Your interest piques. You’ve spent your entire life among the lavish and hoity-toity, so of course something so out of the ordinary would sow a seed of curiosity in your mind. You abandon your post and make your way over to the sore thumb of the party.

“Good wine, huh?” you say. The perfect conversation starter.

The robed cookie jumps with a yelp. He composes himself rather quickly. “Uh, yeah? Yeah. Good wine.” He refuses to look at you directly, instead staring intently into his glass, running a finger around the rim.

“A little sweet for my taste, but good nonetheless. A lot like this Palace. I feel like I’m looking at everything through stained glass.”

The nerves seemingly melt right off the cookie like frosting on a hot day. “Ugh, right? I don’t get why everything needs to be so bright. I’m going to be dreaming in pink if I spend much more time here.”

You laugh at his sudden lack of reservation. Sometimes, all it takes is some mutual complaining to make an acquaintance out of someone. You tell him your name, then inquire about his.

“Licorice!” he puffs his chest out and gives you a wicked, toothy grin. “The most powerful wizard in all of Earthbread!”

Ah, Licorice, that explains the thickly coiled hair and devilish demeanor. He seems a bit goofy, and you humor him on his self-proclaimed title. “What brings “the most powerful wizard” to a princess competition?”

“I’ve been tasked by my m– my Queen to escort our… our princess! Yes! To this competition so that she may win!” Licorice’s voice carries, and it only seems to get louder as his excitement escalates. “Then, we shall rule this Kingdom!”

His energy is contagious, and you can’t help but giggle. “Which one is your charge?” You gesture to the princesses, who have begun to line up at the starting line. The competition is about to begin.

Licorice points out a rather large cookie, boasting that she’s the “most likely” to win. She’s nearly twice as tall as the other competitors, and also quite fluffy, it seems. You wonder what kingdom they might have come from where they need so much hair. You also wonder what the Queen might look like if that’s their princess. After taking a good look at her, you switch your attention back to Licorice – after he’s finished boasting about his princess, that is.

“I’ve never heard of a wizard being assigned to a princess,” you comment. “Every other heiress has a knight, if not a whole cavalry.”

“That’s because I’m the best wizard,” he says, placing a hand on his chest with a proud smirk. “A lowly knight would simply not be good enough for Her Highness. No sword could even stand a chance against my magic! And who needs an entourage when I can simply summon an army of servants?”

“If you’re so powerful, why haven’t I seen any magic from you yet? Wouldn’t you, a royal wizard, have servants with you at all times?” you challenge, feeling extra bold after finishing your glass of liquid confidence. You’ve never seen magic up close, and standing before you is the so-called greatest wizard in all the land. Of course you’d try to goad some action out of him!

“Ha!” he guffaws, “Just you watch!”

Licorice bangs his scythe on the ground. There’s an unexpected flash of lightning that makes you bury your face into the crook of your elbow. When the light dissipates, you look up to see three sentient coils of licorice, each with an adorable little sword. Thankfully, with the competition in full swing, nobody noticed the summoning of those little guys.

You just can’t help yourself. “Aww, they’re so cute!” you say, bending over to get a better look at them. Their big violet eyes flit between you and their master.

Licorice frowns. “Cute?! They’re not cute! They’re servants of the Darkness! Vessels of torment! Harbingers of destruction!”

You hold out your hand, and one of the licorice servants shakes it. The three chitter happily at your laughter. Licorice stomps his foot and orders them to cut it out.

“Oh, come on, they can’t help that they’re just like you,” you coo, patting one on the head.

“Tch, they could never be as powerful as I! They are merely a representation of a fraction of my capabilities!”

“I didn’t mean in that way,” you say. You could really use another glass. “I meant they’re adorable, like you.”

“I– What?” Licorice short circuits. His face turns cherry red, and he grips his scythe with a white-knuckle grasp.

“For being such a powerful wizard, you’re also a huge dork.” Where was that butler? You need more wine. “I like that.”

Licorice doesn’t know whether to refute your claims that he’s a dork, to deny that he’s cute, or to call you out on your own intoxication. He struggles to set his thoughts straight, stuttering like a broken record and reddening like a vampire in the sun.

He can’t get a whole sentence out before something behind him catches your eye. “Hey, are those guys related to you?” You point at the hooded figures that are currently standing in the way of the princesses. Some brandish daggers and are swiping at the competitors.

Licorice whips around and drops his glass. “Oh, crumbs–” he mutters, then begins to rush off with his servants to aid his princess. He pauses, however, and turns back to you with a stern finger pointed upwards. “This conversation isn’t over!”

Good, you still have many more ways to fluster that dork.

#cookie run x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #licorice cookie #licorice cookie x reader

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is-nini · 3 years

Text

Prince! Xiao x royal! reader

You are y/n l/n, the daughter of the l/n family. The daughter of duke f/n and duchess m/n and today is such a surprising day for you.

The huge grand clock was ticking, filling the quiet room of your dining table that was once filled with chatter and cheer. The look on your face is priceless and shocking to say the least after hearing a very very surprising news that has reaches your ear.

"Wh-what?!".

You sputtered. You mom and dad smile's at you proudly but their smile didn't hide the anxiety swirling in their eyes.

"Prince Xiao who will soon becomes a king, has invited you to have a dinner with him, in the letter he stated that you have been chosen to be his future wife, isn't it exiting?!".

Your father stated proudly. You shake your head and furrowed your eyebrows. Prince Xiao.. who will be crowned king next week wanted YOU to be his WIFE?!

"Nuuh-!".

You shake you head no.

"There's no way! That I'm going to his dinner party of whatever".

You stated. Your mom and dad looks at you shockingly and in a instant your mom runs towards your chair where you're seated.

"B-but honey- listen.. we know you had your differences in the past but- he wanted to made up! Won't you see him one time? For us? We cannot reject his invitation- he is going to be KING soon".

You sigh and looks down at you half empty plate. You and Xiao used to be such a close friend... Until one day he grew cold, he pushes you away and said that you shouldn't have meet him.

Although it was 15 years ago, you remembered it like it was yesterday.. the tears of loosing him has stayed with you for years to no end.. and now he suddenly wanted YOU to be his WIFE? Your mom felt your distress and you father felt it too but an order from one of the highest rankings of the kingdom cannot be rejected.

"Please... Y/n.. just meet him.. for dinner. I have a feeling he wanted to tell you something.."

You father gently said, he smiles gently towards you once you made a eye contact with him. Your father's begging and your mother's sad and stressed looks is enough to make you accept the invitation with a sigh.

"Fine... But i won't like it".

You gritted out of your teeth. Your mom and dad cheers at you, you might be mad and sad about the whole ordeal but.. you can't really say no to your mom and dad.. can't you?

The birds are singing and the sun is shining.. the sky seems to be in a good mood sadly you and the sky doesn't seem to have the same mood today.

"You look great sweetheart".

Your father said, squeezing your hand with a huge smile on his face while your mother is smothering you with compliments and praises more than usual.

"Ahhh gosh who knew our little girl would be a pretty elegant woman?!"

She squeal. You giggle and puts a small gentle smile on your face. As much as you hated this day.. at least you'll know that the both of your parent will be happy while you're away.

You kiss the both of their cheek and took a step back. You mom hugs you one last time.

"We know this is hard for you but.. we really do hope you sort out your differences".

You gave them a sad smile.

"We shall see.."

And with that you step inside the carriage and started to make your way to the kingdom... Oh boy.. you do hope that you'll be able to carry on smoothly.. the emotional scar in the past hasn't heal and you're afraid that you'll bleed and lose control.. you quickly shake your head and slap your face gently with both hand.

"You'll be fine! You'll be fine y/n l/n. He will NOT be the cause of you loosing control. Period!"

You look out the window after a couple of hour of ride. The castle is in full view. In a couple of minutes you'll be reaching the castle... Your anxiety is blowing up inside you.. some part of you are happy that you'll get to see him but.. some parts of you are just.. scared.

As you walked out of the carriage, you can feel your legs trembling tremendously. One of your maid ask if you're okay and of course you say yes... Even though you're obviously lying the maid doesn't say anything more. The maid doesn't know what to say, and you cannot blame her.

You took a deep breath and started to Walk towards the humongous door way.

One of the knight opened the huge door and bow down, letting you walk inside the palace. Gosh... It has been 15 years since you last saw the palace.. nothing really change around here accept for the tense aura that you bring upon yourself.

A fellow butler bow Infront of you as you courtesy back to him with a friendly smile on your face.

"We have been expecting your arrival lady y/n, please follow me. The prince has been waiting for your arrival".

Ever since you stepped into the castle, no words are being spoken out from your mouth as if a curse was upon you to not allow you to talk, when in reality you're just nervous and loose your voice. In a couple of second.. you will meet you childhood crush who crushes your heart.. how are you suppose to be calm?!

You and the butler stopped in front of a huge golden coloured door that's decorated with your favourite flower... Interesting.. you are too deep into your headspace that you didn't notice the butler beside you is asking you a question until he clears his throat, making you jump.

"S-sorry"

You said, the butler smile's softly at you and bow down for a while and then he whisper to your ears.

"You'll be fine lady y/n, please relax. Are you ready my lady?"

He ask and then pulled away from you, giving a soft smile towards you. You flash a Sad smile and nodded towards him as he opened the door revealing a beautiful glass room. The walls the glass... Everything is magical.. the place's is filled with your favourite flower, favourite colour and design. Even though the room is absolutely enchanting, you cannot ignore the man in the middle of the room. Sitting on one of the fancy chair with a glass of tea on his lips. He slowly puts down his cup and stare at you with his yellow glowing eye.. that you remember.

You straighten your back and walk towards him as he stands up and walk towards you too. Just as you were about to reach him your gosh darn clumsy leg slip, making you stumble forward lucky you manage to catch yourself before you fall. You quickly take your none existence composure back and looked at Xiao with a huge red across your face.

Xiao saw you stumble and.. oh god of rex lapis.. you just becomes prettier and prettier the more he saw you.. the way you stumble is not elegant but it is cute.. it reminds him of a little... Kitten stumbling.

"Becareful, we would want you to fall".

..... What.. he wanted to slap himself for saying that as he took out the chair for you.

"Y-yes thankyou your highness".

You wanna slap yourself for stuttering UGH why is this so embarrassing?! You sat down slowly on the chair he has pulled out as you watch him goes back to his seat. The table is round and is made out of glass, making Xiao able to see everything in a pretty close proximity since the table is pretty small..

The two of you sat in silence. You are staring at your hand from above the table while Xiao is looking everywhere else but you. The aura here is so tense.. which is understandable but Xiao can sense a rather... Heavy aura coming out of you. Not that he's wrong. The sense of anger and confusion slowly engulfed you and starting to get the best of you.

"Why did you invite me here?"

You spat out, you quickly wanted the earth to swallow you whole but it's too late to go back so you decided to swallow your pain and cringe and started to pull up your head to look at prince Xiao.

Xiao was.. not surprised in the slightest.. he knew you must be mad about the event that took place 15 years ago... But Xiao cannot stand anything anymore.. after he got mature he knows what to do.. he finally has the courage to ask you for a dinner with him.

"To make you my wife".

Xiao respond. Loud and clear. you furrowed your eyebrows, is this all? No explanation? No sorry just a proposal? Is this all really? You tsked and roll your eye. Lady etiquette? Frick that. Throw that away you wanted explanation.

"Just that?"

You spat, staring at Xiao dead in the eye. Xiao realize the mistake he made and sigh quietly trying to fix everything but his pride won't allow him to do so..

"No.."

He trail's off as he prepare his mental.

"I wanted to apologize.. for the event 15 years ago.."

You sigh and without you noticing your shoulder slowly relaxed as you stare at your hand, fiddling with your thumb. A habbit that hasn't left you since you're small.

"I was young and dumb.. at that time".

Xiao looks at your eyes, filled with emotion.. sad and anger emotion swirling inside your pretty e/c coloured eye.

"I was- i was scared.."

He trail's off. You tried to hold your tears the best of your ability. Scared? Of what? What is he scared about to make him wanted to abandon you?

"We were going on a war soon.. and as the future king of this kingdom it's either kill or be killed. At first i realize that maybe it's better if you just.. stay away from me, thinking that it will keep you safe-"

His words was cuts off when he heard a little noises coming from you. He focuses his entire body and mind towards you as he saw tears running down your face. With wide eye he quickly runs towards you and spin you chair, making you spin too. You close your face, not wanting to show Xiao the mess you are right now. Xiao kneel in front of you and hold your shoulder.

"Y/n? I-i'm sorry.. i wanted to make you happy and safe is all! I never wanted to abandon you nor make you cry i just-"

Xiao looks at you sadly and hugs you as you sob to his shoulder, you hugs him back, letting your emotions out. You don't care if your tears stained his suit. You just wanted his warmth. The warmth that you missed for all of this years.

"I just.. wanted you to be safe.. i wanted you to be happy. I thought pushing you away will be better but.. i was wrong. Very wrong. And it was stupid of he to take 15 years to finally realize that i cannot live without you. I'm sorry".

You shake your head no and hug Xiao back.

"N-no I'm sorry! I was- i was stupid! I should've ask you what's wrong! I should've-"

You were about to continue when xiao pulled you away and puts his palm on your cheek while he looks at you deep into your soul through your eye.

"No. You're not stupid. Never say that. You're not wrong... Okay .. stop feeling like you're wrong. Stop blaming yourself".

He whisper. He push his face closer to your face and smile's at you gently and sweetly.

"Shh... It's okay dear.. I'm sorry okay.. can you forgive me?"

You nod your head 'yes' slowly as you tried your best to flash him your warmest smile. Xiao wrapped his arms around your shoulder, hugging you again and tighter.

"Even after all this year's... I still.. i still harbor deep feelings.. towards you.. that's why i ask you to be my fiancee. I can never.. move on. Never. I am aware that asking your hand in Marriage right now is too fast but.. I'm willing to do anything to make you fall for me again.. would you take my attempts to make you fall for me again?"

You giggle and hugs Xiao back, shaking your head while little hiccups is spoiling from your mouth.

"N-no need... Because even until now i still keep my feelings for you and only you Xiaobebe".

You talk while sobbing, giggling and smiling at Xiao. Xiao just giggle alongside you and kiss your lips passionately as you kiss him back. Once you both pull away from eachother to take some air, you decided to crack a joke.

"Gosh... We're so cheesy".

Xiao full on laugh and kissed your temple, and kiss you back.

"Shut up... You ruin the moment my princess".

You giggle against his lips and hugs your hand around his neck.

"Shush. You don't mind"

You reply with a sassy tone. Xiao humn and looks at you dead in the eye.

"So sassy huh? Since when is your lips so spicy?"

He puts his thumb on your mouth and stroke your mouth slowly with his thumb.

"Let's see how long can you keep up the sassy act princess".

He nibble on your neck, making a rawr noise and then pull you up princess style from your seat. He opened the door and started to bring you through the hallway and making his way to his bedroom.

Unknowingly the both of you, Xiao's butler and your maid was listening to your every conversation with a wide smile on their face.

"Such a wonderful relationship~".

Your maid said with a fake tears running down her face. The butler just smiled and walked away from the place they were eavesdropping.

"Let's go, we have a wedding to plan people!"

The butler shout's as the maid and servants around him cheer. You have always bring the colour to the cold hearted Prince's heart everyone ships the both of you and now your presence will bring warmth to the whole kingdom and the future king's heart while filling the newspaper with amazing news.

Taglist: @laic2299 @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @dreaminselfinserts

#genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao

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barnesbabee · 3 years

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ᴛᴇɴ- ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST:

White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki @miraculoustaytiny [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

The King wasted no time. After getting you back, he immediately scheduled the coronation, as he couldn't wait to call you his Queen. The Castle was in a frenzy, the sound little frog feet slapping against the marble floors echoed in every division. Seonghwa refused to have the coronation in the same room where he got married, he didn't want to re-live the awful moment when his wife got stolen from him... So the maids and butlers found new decorations, moved the paintings and transformed another one of the King's dark and cold rooms into a place worthy of a welcoming party.

"Let's do it in the throne room. Place her throne by my right." He had said.

The tradition was for the throne to be moved in front of everyone present, so they could witness the changes and their new reality first hand, but Seonghwa was a little tired of following tradition.

You and him stood in the middle of the throne room, with every single maid and butler running around frantically, trying to get everything done on time. You looked on proudly, enjoying the way it was all coming along.

The excess of red and black was gone, it was now balanced with white and gold, and with the new paintings and lights giving the room a new life it looked like a completely new place. The blinds behind the throne were finally opened, revealing the most beautiful stained glass images. There were four people, who you assumed were Seonghwa's family.

You reminisced the first time you had come to that room, panting and confused, standing in the dark, cold room being judged by the merciless man Seonghwa once was. The contrast was almost unbelievable, but you were glad you had gotten this far.

You felt a pair of arms wrap around your figure and a chin on your shoulder.

"I'll have it replaced. First, just the two of us, and then, once we have our little prince, or princess," he paused, caressing your stomach, where you'd carry your future child "I'll have it replaced once more, with a full picture of our family."

He kissed your cheek and you smiled.

"But Seonghwa, are you sure you wanna take down the picture of your family?" You questioned, feeling honoured yet a little wrong, replacing the original King and Queen.

He stood straight, and his cheerful expression was immediately replaced by one of pain and confusion, remembering all of the memories alongside those people.

"Why not? They have given me nothing but a lifetime of suffering, you have given me nothing but happiness and a chance of redemption. You deserve to be up there, immortalized, as a part of the new Royal family."

"Thank you..."

That was all you could say, as there were no words that could possibly describe how you felt.

One of the maids stole you away from your husband for a second, so you could change from the dirty, ripped-up wedding dress for the new ceremony. She helped you switch to a princess-style dress, all in red silk. The revealing heart-shaped neckline was covered with black lace, that extended all the way to your hands and wrapped around your index finger.

"You look lovely, Miss." The maid said as she fixed your hair.

You thanked her with a small smile and headed towards the throne room. Usually, it would be packed with people, but due to the previous altercation, the only people attending the coronation would be the castle staff, aside from the knights who were assigned to protect the castle during the event.

You carefully sat on the throne, feeling Seonghwa's eyes (or... eye) inspecting you. He leaned over, so he could whisper in your ear.

"You look marvelous in red."

He sat back straight in his throne and smiled at your shy expression. A tall man soon entered the room holding two boxes. He opened one of the boxes and slowly (and carefully) placed the crown on the King's head. It was exaggerated, yet classy and sophisticated like Seonghwa. You could tell it had been specially done for him.

"We shall now begin the coronation of Miss Y/N." The man announced.

He opened the box in front of you, revealing the most beautiful, victorian crown. It was made up of white gold and adorned with the most beautiful red and white stones.

"I hereby declare, by the powers given to me by His majesty Park Seonghwa, the new Queen of Wonderland, Queen Y/N."

The man slowly placed the crown on your head, and it was a perfect fit. He stepped away so the painter could see your smiling faces, as he immortalized the moment on a canvas.

The castle staff smiled and cheered for you, their new Queen.

"Bring her!" The King shouted, and the whole room froze.

The thought on everyone's mind was 'Who's her'.

The heavy doors to the room opened, and a chained woman, dressed in a black cape with her white, disheveled hair showing stepped in, with the help of two guards.

"Unchain her."

The guards obeyed the King, and unchained the woman, who rotated her wrists with a sigh of contentment.

"Finally, what do I owe the honour, Sir?"

The crowd in front of you looked on, petrified. Who the fuck was she?

"Undo the room." Seonghwa commanded.

"Hm there have been some changes, I see." The woman said, her voice cracking mid-sentence.

She looked at you, with her bright purple eyes, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Yes, there have. Now please do as I asked."

"Very well Sir."

The woman removed her black cape, revealing a small, crooked young-looking woman. She lifted her hands in the air, creating a small green fog in her hands, that she aimed at all beings in the room. The people, who were previously humanoid frogs, were turned back into their original form. Tears of happiness formed in everyone's eyes and cries of thankfulness echoed in the room. One maid approached you and knelt by your feet.

"Thank you... Thank you so much!"

You recognized the voice, it was the maid that had thanked you the other day for staying with Seonghwa, and the one that usually helped you dress. You smiled and held her hands.

"No need to kneel around me Miss, thank you for your hard work."

She bowed to you as she walked back to cheer with her peers.

Seonghwa stood up and held out his hand for you to take, and so you followed.

"Iracebeth, follow us. You two," the King said, looking at the two guards who had brought the witch "make sure everyone is gathered at the town center by the time we arrive."

The guards nodded and immediately headed out. Seonghwa took your arm and started walking with you, headed to the town center, you guessed.

You looked behind you to look at the witch, that stared at you with a sinister expression.

"Are you sure it's safe to bring her along, won't she like... curse you? You know, for keeping her locked up?" You whispered.

"Oh, no that won't be an issue."

You tilted your head to the side.

"How come?"

Seonghwa blushed, embarrassed to recall what he had done.

"Well, I tricked her into falling in love with me so I could get her to cast a spell on herself that would only allow her to cast the spells I request her to. I then locked her in the dungeon because I didn't want to deal with her constant crying and blabbering about how I tricked her, that's probably why she's looking at you like..." He glanced over at the witch "... like that."

You hit his arm.

"Park Seonghwa!"

"Ow! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I regret doing it but if I undo it now it could have severe consequences, not only for me but for you too. And we can't have that."

You sighed and nodded. It's true that it was cruel, but you didn't want any consequences headed your way, you'd had enough.

You stopped in front of a black and gold carriage, the one that would take you into town. Seonghwa helped you get on and then sat beside you. The witch rode in front of you, her creepy smile and envious eyes staring into your soul the whole ride. Seonghwa held your hand tightly, also feeling uneasy by her presence.

"We're here, Sir."

Seonghwa took a deep breath. You could tell he was nervous, as all of the people from the Kingdom looked at the carriage, expectantly. You kissed his cheek and held his hand tighter.

"It will be okay." You assured him.

Seonghwa smiled softly and exited the carriage, alongside you and the witch. The expressions of the people once they saw the witch were the same as back in the castle, and they braced for the worst.

The King said nothing, he only turned to the witch and said 'do it'.

Once more, she cast the spell, that supposedly returned them to what they once were, but it didn't go as planned. Some people returned to their original state, but the ones who had turned from animals to humans, not so much... Some had the luck of being completely turned back to who they were, others were left hybrids, mixes of animals and humans. You found Cheshire, still as a human, happily playing with his ears and tail, and Haiga, the Hare, jumping about with his hare feet about the return of his long ears. It didn't take much for those two to be happy. There was a mix of emotions among the crowd, however, some people that had married into families who were previously human, were happy they got some of their old life back and they would still be able to maintain their relationship, others were sad (and mad) that they would never be able to return to whom they once were.

"What happened!?" Seonghwa whisper-yelled to the witch.

"The curse has been cast for far too long, I wasn't able to undo it completely." She explained, ashamed of her own skills.

"People, I apologize," as soon as he spoke those words the commotion calmed down, and everyone seemed shocked. The King? Apologizing? "it seems the curse has gone on for too long and is irreversible in some cases. I ask that whoever has been affected attends the castle tomorrow so I can offer a proper compensation for all of the damages caused, that would be all."

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darley1101 · 3 years

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They All Fall Down (Chapter One)

Title: They All Fall Down

Rating: M (mature)

Characters: Liam, Drake, Maxwell, Leo, Constantine, Barthelemy, Godfrey, Merrin (MC/OC) Piper (MC/OC) Miranda (MC/OC) Madeleine, Delphine (OC) Eleanor, Regina, and more

Warnings: Consensual sexual content

Triggers: Gun violence (divergent canon of the attack at the ball) , broken trust, gas lighting, violation of privacy (canon storyline of photos taken without consent) death of minor characters (Example would be Drake’s mother) death of supporting characters (example would be Kiara) child taken from mother,

Summary: ‘One wrong move could start a war.’ Prince Liam of Cordonia was only four years old when his father drilled that concept into his head. His life was not his own, he belonged to the people; as did his older brother Leo, the Crown Prince. When Leo walks away, Liam is left with the weight of the crown and the pressure to do right by the kingdom. The pressure intensifies when he starts to realize some of the people closest to him aren’t who they seem and that his brother’s disappearance might not have been by choice. Will he figure out who he can trust before it’s too late?

Warning: chapter contains a character with an anxiety disorder, marital discord, mention of a child being taken from mother.

Chapter One: Obsequies of a Broken Heart

Cordonia, 25 years ago

A burst of lightening momentarily illuminated the otherwise dimly lit office, followed by a rolling boom of thunder that shook the fragile panes of centuries old stained glass. Fighting back the shiver that threatened to seize her slender body, she tried to focus on her breathing. In through the nose. Hold for five. Out through the mouth, slowly. 'Breathe...just breathe...' She closed her eyes, her fingers nervously rubbing her sweaty palms. 'Breathe...' In through the nose. Hold for five...A scream caught in her throat as a second round of thunder and lightening vibrated throughout the room. 'Breathe...just breathe...' Midway through the breathing technique the room lit up again, brighter than ever. This time when the thunder roared she couldn't hold back the scream that had been building since the storm began.

“Deli!” His voice collided with a second roll of thunder; his anger and frustration echoing off the bookcases and stonewalls that surround them. “Deli,” he repeated her name, softer this time. She waited, longing for the familiar brush of his fingers across her cheek. It was a ritual of sorts. She'd panic, he would soothe. It never came. Her shoulders drooped at yet another reminder that their relationship was no longer what it used to be. 'Just breathe,' she silently chanted when she felt the panic starting to rise again. “This is my fault. I should have known...” he paused, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “I did know. Father warned me. He said you weren't...that you couldn't...”

She wanted to argue with her deceased father in law's assessment of her but the old man had proven to be right. What her family had considered an endearing trait, the outside world had seen as a weakness to be exploited. Timid. Anxious. To shy to be of any use. A beautiful face, nothing more. “I'm sorry.” The words caught in her throat. 'Breathe, just breathe.' If she could just control her breathing everything would be alright. It was always alright in the end.

“I know.” It was a familiar exchange, yet it felt different this time. There was no understanding, just irritation and an anger she didn't quite understand. “You're always sorry...yet nothing changes.”

Everything had changed, she wanted to scream at him. Everything had changed and that was the problem. There was no trace of the starry eyed boy who had told her their love could move mountains. In his place was a frustrated, miserable man who sought counsel from pompous lords with snooty wives who drank too much, had affairs, and named their children ostentatious names like Bertrand and Madeleine. “I'm trying, Connie.”

“I know, that's what makes this so hard.” He reached out to cup her cheek, the pad of his thumb gently brushing aside the tears that had started to fall. She leaned into the touch, savoring every moment. She felt the panic melting away and her breathing regulating. “I love you,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “Please remember that.”

“I..I love you too.”

He pressed a warm kiss against her cheek before stepping back. “Bastian,” he called, his voice breaking with emotion. The panic rushed back, her eyes darting wildly to the door. It quietly opened and the familiar figure of her husband's personal guard appeared. She started to beg him for answers but stopped herself when Bastian firmly but gently took her arm. The day she had always feared had finally come. He had realized everyone else had been right about her: she wasn't cut out to be queen. She'd always thought their love would win out over his obligations to the crown, but she'd been wrong. “I hereby denounce our marriage on the grounds of...” The rest of his words sunk beneath the roar filling her ears. She didn't need to hear his reasons for casting her aside; they were demons she dealt with on a daily basis. It wasn't until he brought up their son the reality of what he was doing sunk in.”...Cordonian monarchy shall retain full custody of the Crown Prince.”

“No, no, no!” Shaking her head, she stumbled towards him, her fingers reaching out to grasp the front of his sweater. His body stiffened before he gathered her close. She felt him bury his face in her hair, his mouth murmuring gentle words that would have soothed her any other time. “Don't do this Connie,” she begged. “Please. I'll be better. I swear I will. I'll even have another baby if that's what you want. Just please...don't do this. Don't take Leo from me.”

“I have no choice,” he choked before gently moving her towards Bastian. “I swear Deli, if I did...if I did...I'd move mountains.”

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shatteredxglass · 2 years

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What Type of Villain Are You?

chaotically evil

you do what you want, when you want, and without regard for the law. you keep yourself out of jail by keeping everyone around you off-balance. no one knows what you want, truly, or what you plan to do with all this power you've accumulated. your crimes range from "harmless" pranks to murder. anything for a good laugh, huh? you refuse to let anyone kill you, so you plan out your own disappearance. its a great spectacle - tickets are $10 dollars per person. some people speculate that you've died, but most know the truth. they all saw you escape through the back door.

Tagged by: @darksideofthemultiverse

Tagging: @stockpiledjustice/ @harbringerofdecay and whoever else would like to do this <3

#{{dash games}}#{{and he shall fall in a kingdom of stained glass;; about}}#{{accurate elias operates on some form of chaos that not even I can predict half the time}}

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speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

Bring Him Light - vii (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: The reader’s allies provide her with a way out.

Warnings: the reader gets hurt in this (slap), sketchiness, patriarchy, Strucker is an asshole, Steve is an asshole, Steve’s mood swings are in full force here LMAO, mentions of sex, overuse of the word “whore”, oh there’s a reveal in this (but it’s probably not what y’all are expecting), probably really bad writing if i’m honest... this was kinda rushed

Word Count: 2.9k

I hope you guys enjoy!

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

After the execution of Sister Mary, the kingdom seemed to be at a standstill. Weeks later, the woman’s last words – “And you will be put to rest in an early grave and may you rot in hell along with (Y/N) Stark, your future widow.” – still hung in the air. Her headless body had been removed from the platform, but the blood still stained the wood and the ground underneath. When you stared at the dried crimson that later turned into an awful brown shade, you could still hear her strong words and feel her stare.

But the woman’s words didn’t seem to phase Steven. It was as if he expected her outburst. He slept soundly next to you the night he beheaded her and every night after. His snores filled the room and you watched his chest rise and fall. You imagined what he dreamt about. You wondered if he had any remorse.

You wouldn’t know. He’s barely spoken to you in the weeks that followed except for the greetings in the mornings and when he bedded you at night. It felt as if he were apologizing for scaring you through his movements. Gentle, kind, loving. Everything that the man with the cold, murderous glare that took Sister Mary’s life couldn’t possibly possess.

You’d like to think that he was two different people. One was a heartless king that murdered his past two wives. The other was the loving husband who kissed every inch of your body and whispered sweet nothings as he made love to you.

But you’d be wrong, for they were two sides of the same coin that you were too afraid to toss.

Steven watched with a curious stare as his cousin walked up to you in the halls of the castle. Samuel’s words were ignored by the king as his eyes narrowed from seeing you two interact. Your ladies greeting Brock with small curtseys before being dismissed by you.

“Lord Pierce and I would like a private meeting,” Brock whispered in your ear.

“Where?” You asked.

“In the center of the garden – the one with the fountain – “

“I know which one.” You glanced over as your husband approached you both. “Thank you, Lord Rumlow.” He nodded before walking away. You made the motion to walk in the direction your ladies wandered off to, but Steven seized your forearm. His grip alone let you know which side of the coin he had landed on today. “My love, I trust that your matters with the state are going well?”

Steven pulled you close to him, so close you could feel his breath on your neck. “What did Rumlow want?”

He never took you for a liar. You weren’t good at it. You were an outspoken young woman who had a knack for articulating what was exactly on your mind, but you smiled at him – a forced one, he knew the difference by now.

“He was informing me about the change in the orphanage. The children are being housed elsewhere.” Steven saw the glint of fear in your eyes. He relinquished his grip before pulling his hands to his sides.

“That’s wonderful news.” Lord Wilson nodded when his king didn’t respond. He turned to Steven. “Your grace, shall we – “

“I would like to talk to my wife… Alone.” Samuel glanced at you then at his king before bowing his head and walking off. “Everyone, leave us!”

“The people are busy tidying and cleaning. Surely, they don’t need to leave.” You reasoned. You had no intentions of being alone with this side of the king.

“LEAVE. US.” He repeated the order louder and everyone scurried out of the room. With the last slam of the door, Steven glanced at you again. He reached out and caressed your cheek gently. You held your breath. “I don’t like being lied to.”

“I didn’t lie.” He watched the muscles of your neck tense.

“What did Brock tell you?” You repeated your story about the children in the orphanage without hesitation. Steven let out a frustrated sigh. “You know as well as I do what rumors are capable of.”

“Of course.”

“I wonder what the servants are gossiping about when they see my wife – their queen – whispering with my cousin. He was awfully close to you. In a way only I should be. In broad daylight, too. They must think you’re both bold.”

“He was only just informing – “

“When you have my child, there must be no doubt about who the father is. You get close to a man who is not your husband, the rumors will damage us. It will weaken my child’s claim to the throne. Do you understand?”

“This is about your petty jealousy?” You snapped. “Damn the rumors, right? They’re just rumors, right, Steven? You shouldn’t listen to them as much as I shouldn’t.”

“Rumors about a cruel king and whore queen are two very different things.” Steven spat. You frowned at his words. How dare he… “A cruel king is feared, respected. A whore is not. Do you understand?”

You thought about Sharon and the men who favored her. You remembered how Steven had no hesitation in beheading Mary – how he probably had no hesitation in beheading Sharon, too. As much as he showed you affection, you realized he would show no hesitation in taking your life as well.

You bit back your response and nodded. “I’ve only been with you. I can assure you that.” You muttered, adverting your eyes and shifting underneath his hard stare.

You winced when your husband leaned in and pecked your lips. He stared at you though you didn’t meet his eyes. “The Duke will be arriving soon. I trust that you’ll be there when he arrives?” You nodded. And without another word, the king walked off leaving you alone in the empty hallway.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“What is this about?” You asked as you walked towards the fountain. The two men were awaiting your arrival. Alexander sitting on the edge of the basin while Brock stood with his arms crossed.

“Can we trust you?” Pierce was straightforward in his question.

“I don’t understand?” You glanced over at Brock who studied you. “Shouldn’t that be my question? I still don’t know why you told me about Margaret and Sharon.”

“Because you deserved to know the truth.” Brock answered.

“What did the king tell you?” Pierce prompted.

You debated whether or not to tell them the truth. You didn’t know if you could trust these men. But then again, you didn’t know if you could trust anyone in this court. You need allies. Powerful ones that could protect you. Could Lord Rumlow and Lord Pierce be those friends?

You gulped and hoped that they would. “He told me that my friendship with Brock could inspire rumors and if I were to fall pregnant with his child that those rumors could potentially endanger us.”

Pierce nodded. “An affair is treason, too. He’d have grounds for your execution. Even your king father won’t be able to protect you.”

“I know.” You nodded. Your hands nervously tugged at your dress. The fabric felt tight around your abdomen. “To be frank with you, my lords, I’m afraid for my life. I lie awake at night and wonder when will he grow tired of me – when will I meet the same fate as his past wives?”

“Say any word and I will arrange for you to be brought to your home in York.” Pierce offered.

“If I go to York, my father will just send me back. Steven can send armed men to seize me and I’ll be brought back like a prisoner.” You shook your head. “I’m essentially his property, just titled as a princess and a queen for decoration to make it sound luxurious.”

“I can bring you to Wakanda,” Pierce rebutted. “King T’Challa is a tolerable and honorable man. If he hears that you are endangered by your father and your husband, he will shelter you in his kingdom and keep you safe.”

“We’ll smuggle you and your ladies out of Brooken on a boat. We’ll see you are protected in this voyage.” Brock added.

“In exchange for what?” You asked. “You’re risking your lives to protect me. Why?”

“We’ve seen far too many women die at his hands.” Pierce answered. “No more bloodshed.”

You weren’t sure if you should believe him. When you first acquainted yourself with the lords of the court, you quickly noticed how Steven’s moods fouled when Pierce and Rumlow were present. There had to be reason for that… But why were these two men so eager to keep you safe?

Then, your mind wandered to the other people who depended on you. Natasha had grown close to Lord Barnes, who was now openly courting her. You wouldn’t ask your friends to uproot their lives. You thought about your well-kept secret and how you needed Steven, your husband, who appeared to be slowly shedding his kind façade.

This was your way out… But should you take it?

“Thank you, my lords. I will keep this in mind.”

“Please do, your grace. We only want you to live.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Your fatigue was evident on your face as the night wore on. Your husband was hosting another party to welcome a visitor, Duke Baron Strucker. You were briefly introduced to the man when he arrived. From what Lord Rumlow has told you, he had vast holdings of grain and it was his grain that fed majority of the people – and that the extravagant party was to stroke the man’s ego, so that he may continue to provide food.

Wanda was glued to your side the entire evening. The two of you watched as Natasha danced the night away with Lord Barnes. When the three of you were alone, you’d all gush about how the pair made a lovely couple.

“We should excuse you for the night.” Wanda whispered to you. A servant offered you a glass of wine and you smiled and shook your head. “You look tired, and in your condition – “

“I’m fine.” You told her. You squeezed her arm to assure her.

“Have you told him?” Wanda asked, her voice so low you almost didn’t hear her over the music.

Before you could answer, the guest of honor walked up to the both of you with your husband at his side. “The lovely Queen (Y/N)!” The Duke sloppily bowed. He was drunk from the many cups of ale he consumed throughout the night. “You did know how to pick ‘em, eh, Stevie?”

Your jaw clenched as you forced a smile. Your husband was just as uncomfortable as you but he was better at acting. “My love, are you tired?” He asked you. You faked another smile and shook your head. He didn’t believe you. “Lady Wanda, will you escort the queen – “

“Lady Wanda!” Strucker smiled, seizing Wanda’s hand in his and bringing it to his lips. She visibly cringed. In the corner of your eye, you saw her brother, Ser Pietro, tense up as if he felt her discomfort. “Ah, don’t be a tease, milady! You are a sight.”

“Thank you,” Wanda gulped. She tried to pull her hand away, but the man refused to let her go. During the awkward exchange, Natasha and James stopped dancing and hastily walked over to your group. Natasha’s eyes narrowed at the man’s grip on her friend’s hand as did Lord Barnes’s.

“Accompany me with a dance.”

“My king asked me to escort my queen to her chambers. I should heed – “

“Oh, just one dance!” The man argued. He pulled her but she refused to move. “C’mere, you little – “

“Unhand my lady.” You defended.

“(Y/N) – “Steve muttered, grabbing your arm.

You shrugged him off as you snatched Wanda’s hand away from the Duke. You gestured for Pietro to come forward and the knight did so with no hesitation. He took his sister and walked her out of the hall. You intended to walk after them, but the Duke wouldn’t stop talking.

“Oh, ‘em York girls really are a different breed, eh?” Strucker told your husband. He looked over Natasha, but when he saw how close she stood next to James, he adverted his eyes. He looked you up and down. He was shameless. With a smirk, he nudged your husband. “How’s the wife in bed?”

You whirled around and took a step towards the two men. You cocked up an eyebrow at Steven. The king coughed and shook his head. “Those are private matters, I’m afraid, Baron.” He chuckled, awkwardly.

“That Lady Wanda have any suitors? I’d love to – “

“The answer is no.” You said. “You may not court Lady Wanda.”

The man rolled his eyes, bringing his chalice to his lips. “Dresses like that, she looks like she belongs in a whorehouse rather than prancing ‘round court as a lady.”

Natasha’s jaw dropped and before she could defend her friend, you frowned and retaliated. “You are in my court and you will respect my ladies. Is that understood?” The man held his hands up in defense and nodded.

“(Y/N) – “Steven muttered, but you only glared up at him.

“How dare you allow your guests talk like that about my ladies.” You snapped.

The Duke gave the king a shocked look. He was surprised at how outspoken the new queen was. You didn’t hesitate to talk back or defend your friends. From what he understood, you were a princess – King Anthony Stark’s eldest daughter. Weren’t princesses groomed to be seen and not heard? How does the king deal with such fiery defiance? He wondered.

Steven clasped a hand on the Duke’s shoulder and bellowed a laugh. You frowned at your husband. Even Lord Barnes seemed to be taken back from the reaction. “I think you’ve had one too many to drink, my love. You best retire to your chambers. Lady Natasha, if you will.”

“Are you sending me to my room like a child?” You questioned, raising your eyebrows up in annoyance.

Steven only meant to exclude you from the narrative. You were disrespecting and challenging a noble who had control over much needed grain. But you didn’t know that. All you knew was that the man was disrespectful and rude and needed to be reminded of his place.

“Perhaps you should break this one in more,” Strucker chided. “She seems rather mouthy.”

“I beg your pardon?” You snapped. The commotion seemed to drag more attention. Lord Rumlow was rushed to your side. Steven frowned upon seeing his cousin try to pull you away.

“Perhaps, I should.” Steven said dryly. He glared at Brock’s hand on your arm as you glared at him.

“Steve – “Bucky whispered, pulling at the king’s arm.

“Perhaps, should I also sell Lady Wanda to a whorehouse? Since she dresses the part already.”

“Steve!” Bucky gasped. “The king’s drunk, your grace,” he said, turning to you. “He doesn’t mean it.”

Your eyes were nearly bulging out of your head. You pulled you arm away from Brock’s hand as you rushed towards your husband, pointing a finger into his broad chest. “Don’t you dare talk about my lady, my friend, in that manner, you vile monster!”

Steven’s face fell as the words escaped your lips. The whole court seemed to freeze. The music had stopped abruptly as the whole party watched you undermine the king in his own castle, at his own party. He looked over at Brock, who steadily tried to call your attention, trying to take you away from him. He felt anger bubbling up in his chest. He couldn’t stop his hand from striking you across the face.

Your head snapped to the side. You heard someone gasp. And again, the whole court was at a standstill.

Your skin tingled with pain as tears pricked in your eyes. Your shaky hand reached towards your burning skin and winced. His wedding ring had cut your cheek. Blood collected at the slit.

“Your grace, come,” Lord Rumlow muttered, pulling you back. “(Y/N).” Natasha let go of James’s hand and rushed over to your side. You allowed Brock to pull you away and lead you out of the party, your friend beside you.

You couldn’t hold it together. As soon as the doors slammed shut, leaving you alone with the two, you let out a sob. Natasha wrapped her arms around you and ran her fingers through your hair, trying to calm you.

“We should go to your chambers.” Lord Rumlow muttered. “No one must see you cry.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I want to go back to my old rooms. I will not share a bed with him. Not tonight. Never again.” You looked over at Brock. He felt sorry for you. He truly did. “Tell Lord Pierce that I will take his offer.”

The promise of safety and sanctuary in Wakanda had interested you before. It was your very plan when you initially ran away from York. But you did have a reason to stay by your husband. A good reason. But now it was the very reason you needed to leave.

Your hand grazed over your stomach. There was no bump, not yet, but you knew – the midwife confirmed it. The life growing inside of you needed to be protected from all harm, but the greatest threat seemed to be the man you married. The monster truly bearing his fangs to you for the first time.

And if you or your baby had any chance at survival in this court, you needed to leave it.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #bring him light

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philliamwrites · 3 years

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The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.6]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Chapter 06: From The Beyond

Ah! It is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the guilty there is no peace.

[Mary B. Shelley, Frankenstein]

Thinking back on it later, the events during Garland Moon were probably what set the hare running toward its demise. Not that any of you could have known that. Not the students who joyfully spend their days in cherished halls where daylight passes through coloured glass; not Byleth with her gift to correct past mistakes with a flick of her wrist and change the course of time; not you with your foresight to see what dangers await in the future and prepare a different path for those you care for to walk safely.

Thinking back on it later, everything that followed surely ascribed to and served Fate, and not even Sylvain could charm her with his silver tongue and golden wit, for Fate’s lover is Time and she does not look kindly upon those who enslave him.

Maybe that is why things turned out the way they did for Byleth and you.

But that future is still far away and every single one of you still believes the goddess has Fate tightly leashed to her side, her benevolence endless and spreading to every corner in Fódlan.

That is why you don’t think too much about it when one day, Seteth disturbs your seminar, a deep frown settled in his features as you explain how to turn an ambush to your advantage to the students.

“Apologies for the disturbance, Herald. Lady Rhea asks to see Ashe.”

The boy gives a pitiful squeal but is up on his feet nonetheless. “Me? Why?”

“You will see. Please come.” Seteth holds the classroom’s door open.

You nod, a little worried about the frightened glance Ashe sends your way like he hopes you can actually say no and decline Rhea’s command. An encouraging smile is everything you can give him on his way before the door shuts behind him. Its sound wakes everyone else from their slumber and it takes a few minutes to reclaim order and their attention. It certainly does help that the Blue Lion House isn’t as chaotic as a certain other, not to name any names.

Said house proves again to be more difficult to teach. Or tame. You didn’t have the courage to ask why they thought it was a good idea to see whose shoe would leave the darkest stain on Claude’s bedroom’s ceiling. Even days after their mischief students kept talking about how they have never seen Seteth this furious.

“Herald, please,” Hilda cries, tragically draped over the back of her chair, a maiden in bittersweet agony over her loss of free time. “It was all Claude’s fault.”

“Liars never prosper,” Claude calls from the far back of the room. He’s hunched over his papers, working vigorously on Seteth’s punishment. He ordered them to write hundred times I shall not throw footwear against any ceiling in the monastery. They’ve been at it for about twenty minutes and Claude’s quill hasn’t stopped its furious scratching against parchment at all.

“I won’t mess with Seteth,” you tell them and lean dangerously far back on your chair to place your feet on the teacher’s desk. “And you deserve it. Or do they not teach you proper manners in your noble homes?”

“Well, it’s not like anyone taught us not to do it,” Hilda chirps. You throw a glare her way and she quickly dugs her head and continues writing. Quills scratch on paper for about seven seconds before Hilda stops again.

“Herald,” she says. “What do you think about Lady Catherine’s Thunderbrand?”

You look up from your book titled Noticeable War Generals. Smile gone from her face, Hilda looks up at you with sharp curiosity. It’s eerily silent now, and a quick glance towards Claude shows he is listening as well.

Catherine’s Thunderbrand. Its sight is still burned into the back of your closed eyes: Golden ivory forged into a grotesque sword, a blood red Crest Stone in its middle that seemed to pulsate—as if it breathed. As if it was a living thing with a heart. You had simply stared at it in awe and thought What a mesmerising weapon.

“It’s … fascinating,” you manage. “A Hero’s Relic. There are more than just Thunderbrand, right?”

“Ten exist,” Claude calls from the back. “Bestowed by the goddess upon ten heroes, they are passed down to their descendants. House Riegan and House Goneril have one in their possession as well.”

“Then why don’t you use it?” You certainly wouldn’t miss a chance to own and wield a mighty weapon like that.

“Wield that?”Hilda shudders in disgust. “No thank you. It looks so weird, pulsating and moving like an insect.”

“And we’re way too inexperienced to use it in a real battle.” Claude puts his quill between his nose and upper lip and tries to hold it there. “They’re locked away anyway and hidden from those who might misuse their power.”

Claude has a point. Nonetheless, you’d gladly take a look at them. Maybe even hold one … Did the Herald own one as well? A special weapon only forged for the Herald. A slight shudder runs down your spine at the thought of using it in battle.

Ten minutes later, Claude jumps to his feet. He hurries towards you, slams his parchments on the table and leaves just as fast. “Bye Herald!”

“No way!” Hilda pales. “How is he so fast?”

You wonder as well and take a look at his papers. Instead of writing what Seteth has told them, Claude simply left poor drawings of their crime and promised with one sentence he wouldn’t do it again.

And we of House Riegan never break our promises, reads the last line.

You groan. Now it’s your turn to think about a good explanation to Seteth’s questions why you haven’t paid more attention.

Month three passed within the blink of an eye. Garland Moon brought the sweet smell of white roses to Garreg Mach, a tradition much anticipated by the students. Everywhere you went, garlands and gifts made of white roses were given to each other as a sign of friendship or budding love. Some found their way to your desk, though your admirers preferred to stay anonymous whereas Byleth was busy to stow them somewhere—not a day passed without her receiving something or a group of giggling students following her around.

“I really don’t know what to do with all those flowers,” she told you one day during a tea session, a deep frown on her face. “They wilt. Then I throw them away. It’s a waste.”

“Your students love it,” you replied but were glad not to be in her place.

Another good deed Garland Moon brought with it is longer days and shorter nights. Students lounged outside in their summer uniforms after class, enjoying those last warm days before raining season arrived with fierce gusts and heavy pouring, forcing them back inside where they spent their free time inside the library or the dining hall, playing little games to kill time.

For a change of pace, Byleth and Jeralt decided they’d hold a grilled fish dinner on every last day of each week and most of the invited either didn’t have the heart or the courage to tell them once every week was once every week too much.

Everything happened too fast after that. Rhea informed the teacher’s faculty and her Knights of Lord Lonato Gaspard’s planned rebellion against the church. With that, the mystery of why Seteth had demanded to speak with Ashe was solved; it also explained why he spent so much time inside the chapel, praying and wondering himself about his adoptive father’s reasoning.

“There is no question about it,” Rhea says in her cool, demanding voice once every teacher and Knight of Seiros gathered inside the War Room to discuss the matter. “We will send a troop to meet them halfway in Kingdom Territory. They will pay for mocking our goddess.”

“Allow me to lead the Knights, Lady Rhea,” Catherine says. Even now, you can’t take your eyes off Thunderbrand strapped on her back. “I know Gaspard and what he’s capable of.”

“We did not forget what you’ve done back when—” Seteth starts. Catherine silences him with one look, leaving no doubt she doesn’t wish to speak of it.

“And that is exactly why I have to go.”

Rhea nodded. “So be it. I know I leave this mission in your capable hands.”

“But why is he leading this rebellion?” you wonder. “I thought the Kingdom is strongly devoted to Seiros’ teachings.”

“Every flock has its black sheep,” Rhea says, sounding sad. “We will get our answers once we defeat and capture them.”

“What about the surrounding villages and those who support Gaspard’s rebellion but don’t fight?” Byleth asked. Until now, you haven’t really thought of those not directly involved in it, but she does make a good point.

Rhea squared her shoulders. “What about them?”

“They’re not directly involved but might try to get in our way.” Byleth glanced at the strategic map laid out before her. There is a way through the forest for your units to approach Lonato’s stronghold. Surrounding villages are marked with a red pin. They surround the forest in a loose circle, making an intrusion possible, though sending Knights of Seiros out to watch them and stop them could be quite easy—

“Everyone who supports this foolish rebellion should receive the rightful punishment,” Rhea says, her voice so cold it freezes your thoughts of how to make the villagers stay out of this. Your head snaps up as you stare at her. Byleth raises an eyebrow but remains silent just like everyone else. Something about that makes you shudder.

“But they’re civilians, right? If we can avoid having them interfere—”

“By joining Lonato Gaspard’s rebellion they pledge guilty to his cause.” Rhea looks up at you, scorn flashing briefly in her eyes. “I will not have them simply go if it opens the possibility for revenge one day.”

If you squinted really hard, there was reason behind her words. Still, your stomach turned at the thought of endangering civilians even though it could be prevented. Without any protests, that was the plan for the operation.

You sat this one out. There was much to prepare for the upcoming Rite of Rebirth, a ceremony when the Church of Seiros and its believers unite to pray for the return of the goddess. Even though you wouldn’t call yourself a believer—many find it strange that you remember the way of war but not the way of the Church as if you lived somewhere without Seiros’ teachings—your presence was of outmost importance as well. Though after you heard how the mission went, you really wished you had joined the Blue Lions fighting against Gaspard instead of sitting around and deciding which ceremonial robes fit better.

Loud voices drift through the closed door of a classroom, voices you immediately recognise belonging to Dimitri and Byleth.

“Are you insane?” You flinch back even though a heavy wooden door separates you from what is undoubtedly Dimitri’s wrath. “Those were civilians.”

A reply is lost, too quiet for you to hear, but whatever Byleth said, it wasn’t the right thing. A second later, Dimitri storms through the doors. The distress in his features stops you from asking what is wrong, a flash of betrayal lurking in his eyes seals your mouth shut. You look after him until he disappears around the corner, only slowly turning towards Byleth. She is propping herself up on the table, learning on her strong arms and staring at the opposite wall, her mouth a grim line—solid rock that stands against the raging waves summoned by Dimitri, her grip on the edge of the table hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

“Everything okay?” An unnecessary question answered by a simple shake of her head. You lean your hips against the table. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Byleth is silent. Only slowly, like a tight knot finally coming lose, the tension in her shoulders dissipates and she takes a long, deep breath.

“Dimitri told me about their mission. How they dealt with Lord Lonato’s revolt.” She finally steps away from the table and kneads the muscles in her shoulders. You imagine they’re hard like a rock. “They faced simple peasants who defended their Lord. Peasants who didn’t even know how to wield a sword without cutting their own thumbs off.”

“And Rhea made quite clear how to deal with them,” you finish, summoning unwanted imaginations about a gruesome butchery in your mind. Byleth nods.

“Dimitri asked for my advice,” she continues, her gaze drifting towards the door as if said young man might return like a bad haunting if his name is simply muttered. “If there was anything they could have done different. I told him there wasn’t.” She tears her eyes away from the door and fixes them on you. “I told him that is the way of war.”

She is right, a part of you insists. Such facts cannot be changed and claiming anything different is foolish, naive. Yet, something stirs, a tiny tiny voice, a feeling, that challenges that thought. A feeling you didn’t expect to be part of you.

“I don’t know about the details,” you say, shuffling from left to right, “but maybe it was avoidable. Lord Lonato must have known how his subjects felt about it. He didn’t need to involve them.”

“I think they joined on their own. The students gave them a chance to lay down their weapons.”

“Still—”

“Still they decided to follow their foolish Lord,” a voice from the door joins, cold and imperious, chilling you to the bone. Rhea enters the War Room, her expression void of any warmth or kindness. “There is no place for doubt. We must punish any sinner who may inflict harm upon believers, even if those sinners are civilians.”

“And you think to have the students punish them is right?” Byleth asks, earning a sharp glare from Rhea. She quickly, but somewhat begrudgingly adds, “Your Grace.”

“I have heard that some students struggled with completing the task,” Rhea acknowledges, doing her best to show how unaffected she is by Byleth’s criticism. “I pray they learnt a valuable lesson about the fate that awaits all who are foolish enough to point their blades towards the heavens.”

An icy shudder crawls up your spine, cold fingers tighten around your throat to keep you silent—a leash forged of obedience and intimidation, the mistress standing before you. It would be wise to keep your mouth shut, not draw unnecessary attention; keep your head low and nothing can slice it from your shoulders. But the words, burning hot on your tongue, demand freedom.

“Fearing the Church isn’t the same as respecting it.”

Something sharp flashes in Rhea’s eyes. “If fear is the only way to control them, then so be it. They are traitors to the holy teachings.”

“They are people. People with families.”

“People who would be wise to remember it was the progenitor god who gave them these lands and their life,” Rhea answers, growing impatient. She notices something in the way you look at her, for she takes a moment to collect herself by taking a deep breath. “I do not enjoy seeing those who wronged our holy teachings punished, Herald,” she continues, now much calmer. “But punish them we must before they hurt those who are dear to us.” Upon her last words, her eyes dart to Byleth, looking at her with so much fondness and care, a sting of jealousy in your chest forces you to avert your gaze to the ground. It isn’t the first time you notice Rhea’s palpable interest in Byleth’s wellbeing though no answer comes to mind why it is like that. If Byleth noticed the same, she doesn’t show it.

After that, the incident is quickly forgotten, making room for the new incident occupying everyone’s mind: an assassination plot on Rhea on the day of the Rite of Rebirth found in Lonato’s possession. You aren’t the only one wondering why he’d carry something like that around where it’s easy to find. Multiple theories go around, one more farfetched than the other. One particular makes sense, its source none other than sharp witted Claude who thinks this plot is a simple distraction for something much bigger.

“If security is focused on the Rite of Rebirth inside the Goddess’ Tower, pretty much anyone can simply stroll around the monastery and do who knows what,” he told you on the day Byleth and her class set out to discover what important places might become a target. Garreg Mach hides many secrets and treasures. Some of them even you are not allowed to see like relics passed down from archbishop to archbishop, guarded by the elite of the Knights of Seiros, tall and bulky men and women with grim mouths and determined eyes rooting them in place day and night in front of locked doors only Rhea knows what they hide.

With every passing day, tension hangs in the air like a thick blanket waiting to smother you all. But it isn’t simply the anticipation for whatever the Western Church has planned. It is also the holy ceremony of the Rite of Rebirth, one you’ve practised under the stern eyes of Seteth who doesn’t settle for anything less than perfect. Every word, every step is engraved in your mind.

On the day of the Rite of Rebirth the sun relentlessly blazes down at the monastery. Your ceremonial robes are heavy and woven from thick jacquard fabric lined with fine golden patterns that depict the Herald’s Crest on the back. You’ve barely finished preparing everything inside the round chamber inside the Goddess’ Tower but perspiration glues your hair to your forehead.

A whole feast is prepared; food offerings and gifts from the townsfolk and priests served on golden and silver plates on long tables covered with white table clothes. In the middle Seteth prepared a small platform for Rhea to stand and speak in honour of the goddess that she may return to Fódlan and show its people her infinite grace. In short, you’d do anything to join the students who are securing the locations lacking in defence right now instead of standing around and waving at pilgrims. The only joy lies in Flayn’s bright presence and her never ending optimism. She’s a sweet girl and has been looking forward to the ceremony since the beginning of Blue Sea Moon. Looking upon her, it is hard not to catch her excitement and joy when the ceremony finally begins.

Because of certain circumstances you couldn’t quite follow, the holy relic used for the ceremony, the Chalice of Beginnings, has been missing for a long time. Because of that, a mock chalice was prepared by the cardinals, a handful of high authority men and women who make it no secret they can’t quite decide if they like or dislike you and your position.

“You must excuse them,” one of the cardinals says after a group of them simply shook their heads at you happily scooping tons of food on a plate. His dark hair falls to his shoulders and unlike the other cardinals, his brown eyes are filled with kindness. “They simply think in old patterns and value their old traditions. You are quite young, Herald. They don’t know how to handle that.”

“But you do?” you wonder and notice too late how unfriendly that sounds. But he simply laughs.

“I do frequent with young folk, yes,” he says. “They are my flock and I will do anything to protect them.”

“That again, Aelfric?” Catherine joins you and slaps his shoulder just when he was about to drink from his cup. You pretend the pastries on your plate are far more interesting than watching him choke on wine. “You’re way too good for them, you know?”

“Who is ‘them?’” you ask but Catherine just sways her hand as if he wants to get rid of a nasty fly.

“Unimportant. You did a good job carrying the chalice to the podium.”

“I did almost trip over these.” You pluck at the heavy robes, already looking forward to getting out of them.

Catherine laughs but it is short lived. Out of nowhere, a knight hurriedly approaches and leans over to her, muttering, “They are after the tomb of Saint Seiros.”

Glass shatters as her grip tightens around the fragile stem but without so much as noticing it she storms towards Rhea, fury blazing in her eyes. Something happened. Something far more exciting than playing a believer in front of everyone, so you follow her to listen in more.

“Those dastards from the Western Church infiltrated the Holy Mausoleum,” she says. Rhea pales. “I will take some knights and go there at once.”

“Go and be swift, Catherine.” Rhea’s words are barely a puff of breath, those news shaking her but she remains stoic in front of everyone to prevent panic. Her voice drops dangerously low. “Punish those heathens.”

Catherine’s head dips in a slight bow. “I will, Your Grace.”

“I want to help too.”

Both turn around at your voice. Catherine narrows her eyes to sharp slits, but it is Rhea who says, “No. I need you here for the ceremony, Herald.”

“Please, let me,” you beg. Something inside you demands to follow, demands to see what is inside the Holy Mausoleum that causes so much bloodshed. “I can’t explain, but I need to be there.”

Rhea presses her lips into a thin line. Before she reopens her mouth to decline your wish, you whirl around and leave the ceremony room, Catherine in hot pursuit. You manage halfway down the hallway before she reaches you and grabs your arm hard.

“Even though you are the Herald, I won’t allow you to show this disrespect towards Her Grace,” she snarls. “If she tells you to stay, you listen.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” you say, trying to free your arm from her bone breaking grip. “But something calls me to this place and I need to follow it.”

Catherine isn’t pleased but she knows better than do you any real harm. With a crude nod, she allows you to follow. Several knights wait for you and together you make your way through the warm evening air towards the Holy Mausoleum that lies behind the chapel.

You enter right before chaos erupts. At the end of the hall, its ceiling so high up it’s barely visible in the dark, Byleth stands tall and rises a sword that flashes in a bright red light. A throb goes through your body and brings you to your knees. It feels like an arrow drove into your chest, the stinging pain unlike anything you’ve felt before—no, it’s a pain you haven’t felt since the Crest appeared on your eye for the first time. And then that thrumming energy within you exploded, a sharp crimson that drenched every corner of your right vision, rushing through your veins.

“Kill them!” an enemy mage commands, fury fuelling him to a last desperate attack. With his remaining companions, they summon a giant fire spell you’ve only read about in books, a combination of spells into a group flame that covers a large area—the pre-stage to a much more fatal blaze that can scorch the land. Blaze or no, the effect watching the giant fire ball curling and sparking until it grows large enough to wipe out anything in its way is the same. Fear paralyses your body. Move, your mind screams, but you can’t. Your muscles have locked up; a high whine of terror fills your head and fizzes in your blood like poison, yet you do not understand where this fear of fire comes from.

“Take cover!” Catherine roars but it is too late. The blast hits the ground right before you, dispersing your small group of reinforcements like wind scattering leaves in all directions. A loud crack beneath you makes your heart skip a beat, a rumble shakes the hall and before you can fully comprehend what is happening, the ground gives way.

The last thing you hear is Byleth shouting, not Herald, but your name before you plunge into darkness.

Wake up.

You have to wake up.

This darkness is terrifying, so utterly black and choking, curling around you like a tight fist. Like someone is holding you in their dirty, tainted clutches, smelling of death and horror. Wake up, you tell yourself, more urgent now, your mind struggling to escape from claws digging into your consciousness, their goal unknown but you don’t want to stay here to find out what they are after. What they want to take from you.

Wake up, this time another voice, the voice, echoing like a sweet bell’s chime, the flicker of light in a darkness so black it hums. You have to wake up.

Your eyes snap open, the sudden white ceiling hurting like a sudden flash of light. Once you’re used to the brightness, you realise this isn’t a room, this is … this is your consciousness—no walls, no windows. It’s just a space, and yet you can clearly determine borders. Somewhere is an exit you’re free to use, nothing holds you captive. It’s your safe place. Your haven. Which doesn’t explain how you’ve gotten here.

All you know is it feels safe. It feels like a warm embrace, the feeling of hope, watching a budding flower embraced by soft, fragile hands—asteritrope, your mind provides out of nowhere, the flower always turning its head towards the Blue Star.

It is like breaking a spell. First, everything is simply white, empty, a second later, you stand in a vast field of asteritropes, an ocean of purple, gently swaying flowers at your feet. Everything smells of sweet innocence, of honey dipped fingers and bittersweet regret. It is a familiar scent, one your body remembers and reacts to with a shudder so strong it rattles deep in your bones; a chill so cold it freezes you on the spot, the slightest movement threatening to shatter you entirely.

What is this grief, this sadness? Is it your own or have you fallen into a sea of tears wept by someone else? Your chest is heavy with a burden, a pulling towards the unknown that is yet so familiar. It is homesickness towards a place you have never been but long to visit.

The flowers shaped like little stars stretch beyond what you think are the edges of this place. If this is a dream, you don’t want to wake up anytime soon, relishing in this peace and quiet.

A peace and quiet that lasts only a moment until you notice it. Not it, him. In the middle of the field, a boy sits, bent over something that demands his complete attention. Dark curls fall against pale skin, his brows pulled tightly together as his fingers work something in his lap. He is wearing a simple white robe, though it is unlike any of the religious wear you've seen on the priests and nuns; it seem ... too old for that. Only after you approach, you see he is folding purple flowers and green steams into a crown.

“Hello?” you say, only now entertaining the idea you might have died and this is the afterlife, the first point before returning to the goddess’ side. It is a strangely tranquil thought. “Can you hear me?”

The boy’s head snaps up, his eyes wide as he momentarily forgets his work, and you take a step back, struck by how bright his steel grey eyes are. They roam over you, up and down, back up again, as he slowly raises to his feet.

“You’re here,” he says, awestruck. “You’re finally here. It is so nice to meet you after all this time.”

His voice is like a punch to your gut. You recognise it immediately, the voice who pulled you back from the darkness.

“You—” Nothing makes sense. “Who are you? What are you?”

“There is nothing to fear,” he says, offering you his hand. The tips of his fingers are purple from handling delicate petals. The crown lies at his bare feet, forgotten. He looks strangely vulnerable.

You take another step back, worry a steady, hard pulse against your neck. The air catches in your lungs. You feel like the ground is opening beneath your feet. “Are you … the goddess? A god?”

The boy blinks, then throws his head back and bursts out laughing, the sound like sweet bells chiming in the wind. “You people love to call everything you do not understand god.”

“Then what are you?” It comes out as a breath, and for a brief second you think it’s fear that seizes your body, but no. You should be afraid and yet instead of frenzy panic there is a calm spreading inside you as if you belong here. You can’t say if it’s the boy’s presence or the familiar scent of wildflowers.

The boy leans his head to the side, his smile as vibrant as early sunlight casting away leftover shadows from a dark night. “Hmmm … the End, perhaps? Or why not just … a friend?”

“The end? My end?”

“No, the end is never simply the end,” he says, shaking his head.

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“It may be a rebirth,” he continues. “Or the passing into a new era. Into a new dawn.”

“A new dawn,” you mumble. The realisation makes your knees weak. “Don’t tell me—” You suck in a sharp breath, unable to belief where your thoughts are hurling towards in lightning speed. You kneel onto the soft flowerbed, careful not to crush any flowers. “Why are we here … do you know me by chance?”

“I … cannot say for sure,” he starts slowly, uncertainty turning his features even younger. “I have been watching you since you awoke four moons ago. On that day, I as well awoke from a deep slumber. But I do not know why it is you that I am bound to.”

“Bound to?” Your head spins. “What do you mean?”

“You must have felt it by now, have you not? I am here because of this,” he says, and lifts his hand to point at your right eye. You flinch back as if he smacked you right across your face.

“So you are him,” you whisper, a shudder ripping through your body. “You’re the first Herald. You are Seiros’ Champion.”

The boy smiles.

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lorelylantana · 3 years

Text

Savageries of the Heart Chapter 1: Courtship

SFW

Zelda always hesitated outside of the King Daphnes’ door. Bracing herself for the twinge of disappointment that always came when she entered the room to find her father’s chair occupied by her uncle, she straightened her spine and stepped into the room with a schooled expression and a head held high.

“You called for me, your Majesty?” she asked, folding her hands in front of her abdomen as she stood in front of his desk. He didn’t acknowledge her for a moment, signing off one last document before looking up at her with a radiant smile that sent a chill down Zelda’s spine.

“Excellent news, my darling Zelda, I’ve found a husband for you.”

She sucked in a breath, “My husband?”

“Yes, my dear, at long last you're getting married! It was a challenge, mind you, but I’ve arranged for you to marry quite the accomplished Zonai warrior.”

She was speechless. As the first born of the royal family, Zelda harbored no false hopes of marrying for love, but she had at least hoped to stay within Hyrule’s borders, where she could at the very least continue her research.

“The temple will never allow it,” she insisted with a voice that shook in tandem with her beating heart. The smile on his face spread wider, though his eyes grew colder.

“The temple has always put too much stock on a bloodline bedtime story. Your mother was a gifted mage, but if present company is anything to go by,” he stood to walk around his desk and loom over her, “it was hardly a divine inheritance.”

“Zonai authority is established through combat prowess,” Zelda pointed out, “I fail to see why they would be interested in marrying me for my blood.”

“It doesn’t matter why they want you!” he snapped, the pleasant veneer of politeness cracking. He took a breath before placing heavy hands on Zelda’s shoulders, forcing them down into a slouch.

“What you don’t understand, Zelda dearest,” the King pushed through his teeth, “Is that we are vulnerable. Our military has been in shambles for an age, and ever since that wretched coup we have been surrounded by factions that refuse to fall in line. With the Zonai on our side, those other races will think twice before moving against us.”

In the ten thousand years since the continent was fractured there was never one incident that pointed to ambitions of conquest from any of the other five nations, but that didn’t matter to Zelda’s uncle, who had moved to a map of the continent. He stood in front of the east portion of the map, where the Akkala, Faron, and Necluda regions were painted Zonai green.

“My fool of a brother didn’t see the threats, but I do,” he whispered, frowning. He spun around to face her once again, “All you need to know, sweet Zelda, is that in a month’s time you will cross the Bridge of Hylia and make your home in the quaint woodlands that were once a part of our great nation.”

Zelda opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

“Everyone wins!” he proclaimed, “We get the support of the largest nation on the continent, and at long last you can finally do something to help your country. As princess.”

Zelda sighed at her defeat, “I don’t know their language.”

“A month should give you a decent enough head start,” he insisted, sweeping a hand towards the door, “I suggest you get started.”

Zelda rushed out the door, desperate for a moment to process. Her plan was momentarily foiled by the arrival of Nohansen. The young prince was an unfortunate reflection of his father made all the clearer by his sinister smile.

“Ah! Have you heard the news, dear cousin? You must be ecstatic! The biggest day in any young woman’s life is her wedding day, and yours is a mere thirty days away!”

“I fail to see how we’re to organize a royal wedding in one month,” Zelda muttered. Nohansen’s smile sank into a smirk. He ruffled her hair, knocking her tiara off in the process.

“Oh, the wedding won’t be held here” he laughed, twirling the gold in his hands, “Of course not, we can’t have those barbarians running around our castle now, can we?”

Zelda took a breath to speak-

“No,” he said, holding up a finger to stifle whatever she was about to say, “We will be taking you to them. Your glorious wedding shall take place deep in the savage Zonai wilds. They even have a little spring said to be protected by a goddess. Does that not please you, O Daughter of Hylia?” he ended with a sneer.

Zelda snatched her crown back, the gold biting against her grip as she pushed passed him to rush through hallways stained burgundy with banners bearing her uncle’s crest to climb her tower, rushing up stairs and crossing the bridge to her study, the most remote room in the entirety of Hyrule Castle. She slammed the door and locked it before kicking off her shoes and climbing her desk to open the window high above it. She lifted her face to the breeze that rushed in. It was here, away from prying eyes, that she could truly relish in fresh air. She stood there a moment to relish the stillness before lowering herself to the floor and taking a seat in front of her carefully cultivated collection of samples of Hyrule’s most elusive flower, the Silent Princess. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get one to sprout within the confines of her study.

Her study was cluttered with several clay pots hosting their own samples. Stalks of Saffline and flowering Blue Nightshade gently glowing against the shadows. She also had several vials full of elixirs her uncle refused to consider implementing into the kingdom’s resources, citing a lack of reports backing her claims. Of course, any reports written by Zelda herself were disqualified because of a conflict of interest.

That didn’t mean her work went unnoticed. Zelda had built quite a rapport with servants and soldiers alike when she managed to concoct a working contraceptive elixir with ingredients common enough to distribute. From that point on Zelda became an unofficial medic to the people of Castle Town. Those employed at the castle had full access to the infirmary, but the same could not be said for their families. Since her activity outside the castle was heavily restricted most of her specimens were given to her by grateful family members who consulted her.

She was reviewing her notes on the Silent Princess when a knock at the door brought tension to her shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked, wary of her cousin coming in to gloat once again.

“You’ve been invited to dinner by his Majesty King Daphnes, he requests you come down immediately.”

“I’ll be right there,” she huffed, fixing the golden band on her head and straightened her hair before making her way down to the dining hall. To her aggravation, everyone had already been seated and turned to look at her as she walked in. Another one of her uncle’s tricks.

She sat at the last open seat at the head of the table. Her uncle intended to make a spectacle of her in some way, but she didn’t find out exactly how until dessert was served and the King knocked a spoon against his glass to call for the attention of the other nobles in attendance.

“It is my tremendous pleasure to inform you all as of today that our lovely Crown Princess,” he waved to a servant, who brought over a package “is officially engaged to be married!”

There was a round of polite applause before King Daphnes cleared his throat, continuing after they quieted down. The attendant placed a solid wooden box in front of Zelda after a maid cleared her unfinished cake away.

“In honor of this momentous agreement the groom in question was so kind as to send a gift to his beautiful bride to be and I thought it only right to share this celebration with you all by letting you bear witness to the first gift between our dear Zelda and her fiance!” the King turned to her then, laying another heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be shy now. Open it.”

At first glance Zelda thought the box itself was the gift. It was finely crafted, polished wood with a reddish tinge that she hadn’t seen before, and the various symbols and runes carved into it had her itching to go to the library. Zelda lifted the lid and reached in, pulling out a knife crafted by some creature’s polished jaw bone.

The room burst out in raucous laughter.

“My word!” a woman’s voice yelled, “I knew they were backwards, but to think they would present a young lady with the remains of some animal!”

“Well of course,” cried another, “If they couldn’t fashion a proper metal blade, what hope could they have of crafting jewelry?”

Zelda fingered the spiral carved into the lid’s center as she considered pointing out that the handle was made from silver wrapped in silk, but she doubted it would make a difference.

“Well she can always wear it about her neck if she wants to show off her engagement!” Prince Nohansen laughed.

Zelda did not wear the knife around her neck, but she did take to wearing it on a sash tied at her waist. The morning after the engagement was announced Zelda descended to the lower floors of the castle to reach the laboratory. Diplomatic relations between Hyrule and Zonai were nonexistent, but there was one researcher that spent a fair amount of time in Faron to study some of the plants there, and Zelda had gotten quite acquainted with him upon his return to the castle.

“Owlan!” she called, a smile growing on her face as the old man came into view, working diligently on documenting the fruits of his research.

“Come to glean Zonai secrets, your Highness?” he asked with a raised brow and his ever present gentle smile.

“You’ve heard the news then?” she asked.

“There’s not a soul in this castle who hasn’t. It’s the talk of the town,” he closed the book he was writing in and turned to face her, “Would you like a tutor in their language?”

“I would, but that’s not the only reason I’m here,” Zelda set the box she’d received the night before on his workspace, “What do you make of this?”

He took the box in his hand, giving the intricately carved lid, “If nothing else, you know that he’s a gifted carpenter.”

“You think he made the box himself?”

“Rather than a ring, Zonai engagements are marked with a dagger. Typically the suitor in question will present said blade with a personal touch. A seamstress would wrap it in a sash for her beloved, a gardener might send flowers along with the blade itself, and your betrothed,” he tapped the box lid, “sent a carved box. Would you mind terribly if I took a look at the knife in question?”

“Go ahead,” she said, taking an empty seat beside him. She turned back to him holding the knife in question with a frown.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s common for particularly capable warriors in the Zonai nation to slay a beast and have a bone fashioned into the blade. It’s a way of showing off, you see,” Owlan said with a mischievous smile, “but I can’t tell what creature it’s from.”

Zelda took the dagger in her own hands, running a ringer across the large fang at the point. Now that she had a closer look, she could see etchings on the bone as well, depicting a long horned serpent curling under the teeth.

“What should I send back?”

“I’m sure a reciprocal blade would be appreciated,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

Zelda left shortly after to visit the blacksmith to have a dagger commissioned before heading to the library. After consulting a librarian she had several books on the Zonai language sent to her room while she perused the shelves until she came across the tome she was looking for.

The Hylian Bestiary was one of the oldest books in the castle’s collection, the original copy was written back when the kingdom encompassed the entire continent. She hefted the book onto one of the empty tables and flipped through the illustrations of beasts both alive and of their remains. She rested her head on her fist, nearing the end of the section and still at a loss. She turned a page, a little discouraged until she scanned it’s contents.

There wasn’t much information on this beast, apart from reports of different colors and different regions it had been spotted in. There wasn’t a live illustration either, but there was a careful sketch of a skull. Zelda opened her box and took out the dagger just to be sure. She held it up to the page.

Her fiance had sent her a Lynel’s jaw.

If his intent was to impress, he’d certainly succeeded. She had never seen one herself, but there had been occasions where her uncle had dispatched knights to slay one that had wandered a bit too close to hylian villages. It was one of the few times the King would approve of Zelda’s assistance of the medical staff, because they always needed extra hands afterwards. Zelda returned the book to its shelf and entered her study. The books she’d asked for were stacked on her desk, but she bypassed them for her cabinet of finished elixirs. She opened the doors and considered, wondering which one she should send to her betrothed. She considered a poison she’d extracted to coat the dagger in, but decided against it. With the language barrier as high as it was, she didn’t want to risk him drinking it. She ended up making a defensive concoction that would give him an extra layer of protection, which he might need if he made a habit of facing Lynels.

She was called down to the blacksmith’s a few hours later to approve of their handiwork. The blade was serrated, as she’s requested, and a fair bit longer than the knife around her waist, but she gave her approval and had it shipped off with her elixir to her fiance before returning to her study and reading through the basics of the Zonai language.

A week after she sent her own engagement dagger she had received another gift from her fiance. Unlike the first, this gift was contained within a basket. Zelda had the good fortune to intercept the servant on the way to deliver her gift to her uncle. The maid in question was a regular consumer of one of her contraceptives, so it didn’t take much convincing before she was walking back to her room with the basket tucked under one arm. She sat on her bed, and somewhat excitedly opened the lid of the basket-

And slammed it back down again. She stared at the basket as though it might combust for a moment, heart slamming against her ribcage. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, Zelda gingerly picked up the basket and placed it on her desk, ond once she put a few paper weights over the lid, paid Owlan a visit.

“Good afternoon your Highness! Are your studies going well?” he asked, looking up from the medication he was crafting.

“How do the Zonai feel about snakes?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Well I would say they’re quite fond of the little creatures,” Owlan explained, “Snakes in general are held in high regard due to their resemblance to one of their guardian deities. The Faron Python in particular is a common pet.”

“A snake is a common pet?”

“Contrary to popular belief, they can be quite friendly. The Faron Python is known for being affectionate and gentle, that coupled with their penchant to hunt pests earned them a spot in many a Zonai household.”

Zelda found herself in the library once again looking for answers regarding the nature of an engagement, and returned to her room with an illustrated guide to Faron Pythons and their care. Once she was once again seated on her bed with the basket placed in front of her. She made sure to turn to the page to a diagram of the snake’s physical characteristics to make sure she could verify her suspicion. Not wanting to spook the creature, she took the lid off slowly, giving the snake a moment to adjust to the light of her room before taking a closer look.

The serpent itself was shockingly beautiful, bright white scales with splashes of blue along its body that looked almost translucent reflecting the light filtering through her windows. After a few tense moments, Zelda carefully reached in the basket. The serpent didn’t shy away, so she felt secure enough to tuck her hand underneath a section of its body to gently lift it. First it was only a few inches, giving the sweet creature a chance to escape, but it only curled around her hand in an embrace that felt softer then it looked. The snake slowly turned to look at her. A tongue flicked out of an upturned mouth, and Zelda was lost.

From that day forward, it was common to see the Crown Princess of Hyrule walking through the castle with a serpent coiled around her neck. She liked the reaction her new friend had on those around her, even her uncle and cousin seemed to give her a wide berth whenever they caught sight of the python leisurely draped around her shoulders. She never mentioned the snake’s name because she liked the watchful respect she acquired and refused to undermine it by advertising that the intimidating serpent’s name was Noodle.

With this new edge to her authority Zelda made doubly sure that any gifts from her mysterious groom came directly to her hands. The benefits to this policy were two fold, the first being insurance that her uncle wouldn’t make a further mockery of her engagement or perhaps keep the gift if he took a liking to it. The second was the prevention of any diplomatic incidents. As much as she loved Noodle, Zelda was well aware that a snake in a basket could be interpreted as an assassination attempt.

As thanks for her new friend, Zelda sent one of her old journals she thought had a thorough description of how she made some of her earlier, more basic elixirs. She knew there was a chance he might not understand Hylian, but she thought it would be a good way to get to know her. She had tried translating the recipes, but gave up after the first few and sent the incomplete list rather than spend her remaining month translating a single journal. Her Zonai vocabulary was primarily conversational and sadly didn’t include scientific vernacular.

She must have gotten her point across, however, as just a week later she was delighted to find a few vials full of her fiance’s attempts to recreate her recipes.

Zelda was also surprised, quite a feat after Noodle’s auspicious arrival, to find a Silent Princess pressed into glass. At first she was perplexed, wondering if her fiance had simply ventured a lucky guess, but then she recalled the day she began researching the flower and attempting to foster it on her own was also the day she filled that journal, suggesting her fiance had read to the last page of her journal before preparing his third gift.

Her elation at this discovery was fueled by a torrent of relief. She had heard the stories of arranged marriages gone wrong. She had considered countless times in the past weeks that the gifts sent could be a ploy to gain her affections only to have such generosity evaporate as soon as the final wedding vow was spoken. Yet the Silent Princess in her hands whispered tales of a considerate husband, who took the time to read through all she had written and took the time to learn her interests. Deep in Zelda’s chest, she felt hope flicker, foolish as it might have been.

#zelink #zelink botw #botw au #link botw #the legend of zelda #the legend of zelda breath of the wild #zelda botw #arranged marriage au #zonai link #fanfic

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logan-is-noggin · 3 years

Text

Anxious beauty- Part 1

word count: 1512

Roman opened the microwave door and pulled out the bag of popcorn and poured the buttery contents into a large bowl. Along with a bag of chips he grabbed the two bowls and walked into the kitchen to see Patton hunched in front of the TV.

" padre, why isn't the DVD in yet?" Patton turned around " it is, but the DVD player doesn't seem to want to turn on, it's also not letting me take it out, it's stuck. Sorry Roman."

In dramatic princely fashion Roman fell to his knees, Patton caught the snacks out of his hands.

" how will we have movie night now?"

" I can grab my laptop and my copy of the movie." Roman shrugged " it just won't be the same, we can't appreciate the epic battle scenes from the tininess of a laptop."

Patton then snapped his fingers " what if I tell the story, like one of those old fashion storytellers"

"I still don't know..." Roman said unsure.

" you can be Prince Phillip." Patton bargained.

No sooner than said Roman was on the couch, a handful of popcorn in his mouth. " start from the beginning."

" no better place to start" Patton laughed.

there once were two kings from opposite kingdoms across the water. the two monarchs, king Thomas and king Emile were the best of allies and friends. they dreamed of the day that they could unite their kingdoms as one.

happily, a prince and heir was born to Thomas. soon a celebration and holiday was named in honor of young prince Virgil. many royals and nobles traveled to pay homage. many bringing gifts for the new royal. among the attendees, king Emile and the five year old prince roman.

Thomas stood before his throne and commanded the rooms attention. " honored guests. on this day of my sons dedication, let it be known that my son and young prince roman are here-forth betrothed. when they come of age they shall wed and unite my and king Emile's kingdoms."

the audience celebrated at the news. a fanfare sounded throughout the room and from the light shining down through the stain glass window sparkles twinkled and soon formed into three creatures cloaked in green, blue and yellow. when they touched down they bowed to the kings. the yellow fairy spoke for the group. "we each have come to bestow upon the prince with a gift that will help aid him through his life."

Janus, the yellow fairy approached the gray bassinet where the prince slept. he pulled his wand from his pocket and waved it. golden sparks flew from the tip. " young prince. my gift to you is great wisdom and wit. when you ascend to the throne may you rule with the knowledge as your father did before you" the prince blinked and yawned as he awoke as Remus, the green fairy peered over. "Little royal, my gift is the gift of great boldness and cunning in battle! may you lead your armies into many victories and success follow all your days."

the blue fairy stepped forward and reached a hand in and tickled the babies tummy, making him giggle. " sweet prince, my gift is.."

but Patton was stopped by the explosion of the double doors slamming open and a large gale sweeping through extinguishing all the candles on the chandeliers. when the smoke cleared enough they saw the dark fairy Logan.

" why am I the villain in the story Patton?" Roman bit back a scream , throwing the mostly empty popcorn bowl into the air. "Do not creep up on me like that!" Roman demanded

" I've been standing here listing for the last five minutes. And I ask again, why did you make me the villain?"

C'mon Logan, maleficent is the most powerful being in the story, and I'm sure you wouldn't rather be one of the fairies taking care of the baby in the movie."

He nodded to himself " that is a fair point. Carry on Patton." He said taking a seat next to Roman on the couch.

Logan held onto a staff with a swirling blue orb on the top of it. Thomas stepped forward. " w-what brings you here Logan?" The fairy slowly strolled around the room. " I had just been in the area and heard all the celebration. Upon closer inspection I see that those three were invited to give the Prince a gift. To be honest your highness, I was hurt that I too hadn't been invited."

"You weren't wanted" Remus called out. Janus clapped his hand over the green ones mouth.

Thomas quivered " an over sight I can assure you Logan. If I had known you wanted to come of course I would have invited you. It's just in the past I know you aren't the type for large crowds of people."

" I accept your apology. And to prove it, I too shall give a gift to your son." Logan stretched his arms out and slammed his staff down with a loud crash.

" listen well. the gifts given to the benevolent prince thus far are all well and good. but hear me. Virgil shall spend all his days haunted by a lingering fear wherever he shall go. he will never truly be able to rule with a mighty hand. and he will only escape this fear by the kiss of death!"

Thomas had scooped his son into his arms as he shouted for the sorcerer to be arrested for threatening his sons life. but Logan waved his staff and more smoke and lightning emitted from the end as he used his magic to make his escape.

hours later, all the guests had left a Thomas's request. leaving the fairies alone with the monarch. Thomas, still holding his son in his arms, paced back and forth.

" isn't there something your powers can do to annul this curse?"

"I'm afraid not sire." Janus spoke. " he's much stronger than us because he has trained for much longer and he possesses dark magic. he's not afraid to break the rules or even write his own."

Remus smoothed his mustache on his lip " but, there could be a way to help."

"how?" Thomas asked. the others looked over as if asking the same.

" little blue here never got a chance to bestow his gift to the little sprite. maybe there's something you can do."

"I cant undo Logan's spell," he said sadly. " not undo it, but perhaps find a way to make it bearable. find a loophole."

Patton sighed a deep breath and approached the king, he held his arms out, a request. Thomas transferred Virgil into his arms. with his wand, he showered the baby with light harmless sparkles that he reached out and tried to grab.

" little prince" Patton cooed. " while the wicked Logan had decreed one fate for you, i decree another path. yes while fear may follow you, it will be so you air on the side of caution in all you do. you will be happy and comfortable where you feel safe, with those you are familiar with. and instead of death freeing you from fear. you will fall into a deep sleep where the only thing to wake you shall be true love's kiss."

////

the following days the fairies tarried at the palace, Patton was often found with the baby in his arms, rocking and entertaining the prince to keep him happy. even with pattons addendum to the curse, the king still feared for his young son. one time after handing Virgil to the wet nurse, Patton rushed off in search of his compatriots. he found them leaning against one of the balconies overlooking a courtyard. they noticed their friend behind them, out of breath from running, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees.

" slow down blue, what's the rush? are the king and prince okay?" Patton nodded furiously as he calmed his breathing. " it's nothing like that. I just had an idea about how to keep the prince safer!" he shared excitedly. Remus smiled as he shoved Patton playfully " don't keep us in suspense baby blue? spill."

once they were safely tucked away in a corner, Patton told them his plan. at first, Janus was hesitant. " really Patton? stealing a baby? especially the prince! I'm pretty sure that's treason."

" no, obviously we have to get his highness's approval first. and it's not forever obviously. just until after his sixteenth birthday so the curse is void. once his plans are foiled he- won't be able to intrude on Virgil's life and he can live it the way he was meant to."

" but blue, we don't know anything about raising a baby," Remus commented. Patton assured them " that's what I'm here for. I can teach you both easily. so, will you help me?"

Janus and Remus exchanged glances then back at Patton more sure. " we're in."

PART 2:

#thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sander sides #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #fairytale #prinxiety

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fuzzyporcupine · 3 years

Text

lead me with your hands tied | chapter two

chapters:

1 - 2

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

–

“You don’t think I’m worthy enough to be the king?”

“No, I think you’re a spoiled brat who would rather play with pomp and circumstance than save his own people from starvation,” Levi spat.

Levi’s eyes were closed when the door to his room was opened once more.

“Enjoying your bath, sir?”

Startled, his limbs flailed in the water, soaking the tiles below. Cursing beneath his breath, Levi turned his gaze to give a half-hearted glare at the girl. Her hands were full of linens and fabrics, meant for him, he supposed. “It’s fine,” Levi finally answered, shoulders relaxing as he attempted to lean back comfortably into the tub. “Where’s Petra?”

“Oh, the Madam is preparing your studio, sir.” The girl nervously shuffled her feet, a piece of dark brown hair gracing her cheek as she shifted. “I’ve been told to bring you a change of clothes.” Levi opened his mouth to interject. “The Madam insisted,” the girl spoke before she could hear any complaints. “I’ll just gather your things and return them after they are washed, sir.” His consent was apparently not required as the girl dropped the linens off onto the bed and began collecting his items off the coffer. She was quick, pale hands hastily gathering his belongings. However, when her grasp hovered over the white cravat, Levi jolted upwards.

The sudden movement caught the girl’s attention, downturned olive eyes seeking out an answer to the distraction.

“I’ll…” He felt trapped between her leering and the tiny confines of the bath. “Leave it.” Her hand was still floating in midair above the object, thin brows now furrowed in question. Levi swallowed hard, hands beginning to slip on the sides of the tub. He didn’t want to explain - shouldn’t have to - to some servant girl why he insisted on washing something as inconsequential as a cravat. It wasn’t made of some rare, expensive material. Hadn’t been passed down from generation to generation. It was a simple item of clothing that, nonetheless, had Levi going white-knuckled.

The girl seemed to notice, curious stare fading into a look of something that appeared close to understanding. “Yes, sir.” Her hand dropped audibly to her side. “Of course.” She shuffled out of the room quietly, leaving him anxious and hung over the side of the bathtub like a true and tried idiot.

He looked down at the tile where a large puddle of water had congregated from his splashing. Stared at his warbled reflection as it shook and rippled with every drop that fell from his head. Wanted to reach inside that image and shake the bastard’s shoulders. To rip all those tainted, gruesome memories out of that mind.

That poor, poor mind.

There was a feeling pooling in his gut. Fear? Disgust? He couldn’t pin it. Only knew that the water which once felt like a sanctuary from all of travel’s aches and pains was starting to slowly drown him.

The tile was cold against his bare feet and toes curled as an unpleasant shiver traveled down his spine. The chill quickened his pace to the bed, eager to examine the clothing brought before him. Levi was almost positive that nothing would fit properly. He was, as loathe as he was to admit it, a small man. His uncle had always chucked the lack of growth up to Levi’s malnutrition as a child. But Kenny was no doctor, and Levi tended to never believe a single sinister word that weaseled out from those thin lips.

Fingers twitched anxiously at the thought of dragging their touch across the fine fabrics laid out across the bed. The dark blues and soft beiges complimented each other wonderfully, and Levi secretly hoped that the king would not be expecting the items back after he was finished with the commission. The linen glided effortlessly over his skin, smooth and soft. Surprisingly fitted, as well. Levi would have to thank Petra for her keen eye, he thought.

No sooner than he had finished fastening the last button of his tailcoat, the door creaked open again. This time, however, it was Petra’s face that greeted him and not a nosey servant girl.

“I take it the attire is suitable?” Her hands had migrated to her hips, and Levi couldn’t help but feel like a child who was about to be scolded. Maybe the servant girl had said he was an ass. More likely Petra just had a good intuition.

“Not bad,” Levi said, hands running down the front of his cinched waistcoat.

“Glad to hear it, sir.” Petra hesitated, mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to find the right words. “You scared poor Emmie to death, you know?” she finally spoke. Levi pressed his lips tightly together, not necessarily keen on the idea of a refreshment course in etiquette. “She said you near leaped out of the tub like a madman.”

Levi scoffed, “I think your poor Emmie may be suffering from a case of exaggeration.”

Petra’s lips quirked at that, the stern look in her temple softening a touch as she regarded the man. “She didn’t seem to think so, Mr. Ackerman. You had the girl in practical tears.”

“I tend to have that effect on women.”

Petra huffed overdramatically, “Of that I’m sure." Levi was positively certain that he should be affronted by the agreement. There was a mischievous twinkle in the woman's eye that begged otherwise. “Come now. The studio awaits.”

Levi brightened at the thought. He had traveled so far, and the idea of the studio was the only thing that he was sincerely looking forward to. To hell with the royal family. Levi just wanted to paint.

Petra led him down the hall, under the vast stone arches that supported the great structure. Their footsteps were muffled by the expanse of red that flowed from the singular carpet extending down the path. It was a rich, luxurious scarlet that brought warmth into an otherwise cold corridor. Beyond the rug, there was no other color. Only a bland variance in the shades of grey amongst the stone walls. It was a stark difference to the vibrant Jaeger family crests that flew their proud viridescence along the castle like a silent battle cry.

Or silent subjugation, Levi thought.

They paused at a twisted, metal staircase - the thing looking archaic and out of place amongst the brick and mortar.

“It’s this way,” Petra said as she lifted the hem of her dress. “Watch your step, sir. The stairs can be most unforgiving should you take a fall.” Levi imagined his head splitting open like a melon against the thick stone walls. To be fair, the splash of red would do the hollow halls a favor. However, the color would, ultimately, clash with the carpet.

He held on tightly to the narrow stair rail. It was rusted beneath his hands, a rogueish vermilion staining the black metal. The steps ached and creaked loudly in opposition to his frame being carried up their spine. Thankfully, the journey did not ascend too high, only above to the next floor. It was here that Levi was met with a door. A large, black door that seemed more imposing than all the castle grandeurs combined.

“We had to improvise where to place the studio,” Petra explained. “There’s been no need of one since the young Majesty’s mother passed.”

Ah, yes, Levi remembered her. Well, at least remembered hearing the tales. He’d never been so lucky as to meet the woman in the flesh. The beautiful and elegant Carla Jaeger. Shinganshina was truly a different land with the queen on the throne. Her peaceful hand helped keep the king’s tumultuous relationship with Marley in check. Some say it was her doing altogether. There was truly no one better fit to rule over the people. And then she died. Suddenly and with no warning, leaving Shinganshina with a manic king and two motherless sons. Soon after, the fragile peace with Marley had launched into an all-out war.

The residents of Shinganshina could do nothing but watch the world around them crumble while silently mourning the loss.

“A shame,” he murmured, sharp eyes studying the intricate patterns warped into the wood of the door. Looked a lot more likely the room would be housing an alchemist’s laboratory than an artist's workshop.

“Indeed.” Petra voice had lost the giddy edge, and she wrung dainty hands as the true intent of Levi’s comment weighed heavily in the air. It appeared that not only the villagers were still feeling the ill effects of the queen’s loss. The woman seemed to steel herself as she took a deep breath, “Forgive me, Mr. Ackerman. You’ve only just arrived, and I am already burdening you with unpleasant memories. You must think me a very poor excuse for a housekeeper.”

“It’s no trouble-”

“We shall make a glorious evening of this yet!” A pale fist was raised high into the air as she beamed with triumph. Levi couldn’t help but offer her a subtle upturn at the corner of his mouth.

“Come, look at what we've pieced together for you,” Petra said as she pulled on the large, bronze handle. “I’m sure you’ll be absolutely marveled.” Levi had his suspicions. It was foolish to think that the king knew a single element that would be required of an adequate studio.

The entrance opened with a satisfying click, followed by a long drawn-out creak that preceded a breeze of cold air from the other side.

And then, light.

The room was positively bathing in it.

Vertical windows lined the outer wall, reaching nearly from floor to ceiling. The effects of the evening sun shone unconstrained through the glass, painting the room in a bewitching orange glow. So, the king did know something about the art of portraiture after all. Or perhaps this was all Petra’s doing. Turning to look at the bright, expectant smile lighting up her features, Levi suspected it was the latter.

There was miscellaneous furniture placed throughout the room. A plush green sofa, purple needlepoint armchairs, a rustic wooden bureau. However, what stood out most of all to him was the fireplace. Elegantly crafted from carved stone and decorated with hints of teal and gold, the fireplace seemed to perfectly embody the image of an ideal royal heir. Strong and bold, yet handsome and rich. Levi detested the thought of comparing it to a spoiled brat, but couldn’t deny that the object would be the perfect backdrop to the painting.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Petra’s smile had not faded as she stood in the doorway. Levi felt a bit like their roles had been reversed - Petra morphing from chastising mother to expectant child eagerly waiting for praise. He indulged her, giving a quick nod of his head.

“You’ve done well, Ms. Ral. I look forward to capturing the prince’s likeness here.” The words were a half-truth. To paint again and be compensated for his talents, that was what he yearned for. The damn dirty prince could burn in a thousand hells as far as Levi was concerned.

“I am honored, truly, sir.” Petra bowed lowly. He stiffened, not accustomed to the actions one would typically reserve for nobles and royalty. If only the woman knew that she was most undoubtedly wealthier than the man to whom she so easily bent her head. “I will have one of my girls bring your supplies here if that is quite alright?” He could easily manage this on his own, but Levi was positive that Petra had certainly already sent one of the servant girls into his room. Agreeing with her now was simply common courtesy.

Levi made a vague noise of approval. “Of course.” He turned to begin a more thorough inspection of the studio when the sound of quickened footfall called his gaze.

“Oh, Mr. Ackerman, I’m sure that you are eager to get to work, but you must remember.” Levi quirked a suspicious brow. “I said this would be a most glorious evening. What is a magnificent affair without a proper meal to finish off the day?” Petra looked at him as if she were anticipating an answer, but Levi fancied that the woman would enlighten him without his query. “His Majesty has ordered the chef to prepare the finest venison and vegetables I’m sure you’ve ever indulged upon. You are the guest of honor, after all.” Levi tried not to let his expression sour. This was inevitable, wasn’t it? He could not very well manage to paint a picture of the king’s son without at least meeting the royal family first. The thought alone made Levi’s skin itch.

"That's not necessary," he tried, tongue heavy in his mouth as he searched for a suitable escape.

"Oh, don't be silly, Mr. Ackerman," Petra laughed, "I'm sure you are absolutely famished. And His Majesty insisted, after all." Levi felt his face morph into a sneer as his jaw tightened.

His Majesty insisted.

Of course, the bastard insisted.

“As His Majesty orders.” Hopefully, the venom in his tone was not too apparent. If it was, Levi would simply blame it on the journey. A strenuous voyage could make any man affable. Petra's smile fell, and Levi inwardly cringed. He'd have to watch his mouth, the damned thing it was. Got him in a fair amount of scuffles in his youth. However, the stakes here were much higher than a black eye or bloody nose. “Lead the way,” he continued, trying not to sound so incredibly vexed. Petra nodded silently, all former excitement replaced with a disposition as if she’d just sentenced a man to place his head on the block.

“Certainly. Please follow me, sir.” She quickly turned on her heel, the bounce in her step replaced with a rigid tread. Thin nostrils contracted as he heaved a deep sigh.

This was inevitable, Levi reminded himself. And he began his march towards the dining hall, leaving the cold chill of the studio behind him.

#back at it again #ereri #snk #riren #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #eren jaeger #levi ackerman #fic: lead me with your hands tied

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

tapestry 👑 XIX

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The trial concludes.

Note: It’s Christmas Eve. I’m at work as this is queued for when I start at the retail hellscape but I hope y’all are having a lovely day. I will be taking a break for Christmas day (hopefully. You know I lie about these things). Anyways, her’s another chapter. Love you. <3 Enjoy.

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

Following your testimony, you sensed the trial coming to a close; as did many others. Each day, the court began with a series of titters and it was more difficult to bring the audience to order. You sat quietly as every day, aware of the glances sent your way throughout the proceedings. The queen remained silent and stony as she heard the witnesses openly besmirch her. You felt as if you shared with her a secret connection; a sense of the doom which had come to ensnare the court.

That day, you listened distantly to Ellis’ introduction. It was a cursed ritual. The queen was marched out in her white gown, the royals sat upon their altar, and the cardinals watched all with quiet judgment. Marion was at your elbow; she remained a staunch ally though it became clear she was just as swept up in the intrigue as any. She’d often nudge you when she noticed the king’s eyes upon you.

Your nights grew even more sleepless. Since your encounter with Lord Barnes outside the queen’s former chambers, you couldn’t think of anything but the glimmer of defeat upon her face as you stood before the court. Though you could absolve yourself by placing the blame upon the will of powerful men, in your heart, you could not elude the stab of guilt.

Why had you been so proud as to set yourself above women like Rose? Why had you been so obstinate upon your virtue which hardly mattered as the unmarriagable second daughter of an earl? Why, deflowered and tarnished, you would still have found your way to the convent. Surely it wasn’t hard to buy a habit.

The regrets mounted as the testimony did. You found it hard not to sink upon the bench entirely. You found yourself wringing your hands until they ached, digging your nails into your own palms until they bled. Not even the stained-glass could lend colour to the courtroom, only cast it in ghastly shades of foreboding.

“As we come to our conclusion, there is one witness we have yet to call upon,” Ellis’ voice snatched you harshly from your trance. The detachment you’d come to hone in your dismay. “We shall call to stand as our final witness, King Steven. Your highness, will you testify?”

All looked to the king. He sat up and glanced dramatically at the men on either side of him. He nodded as if in shock. He put on a mighty show for the court and they ate it up like a juicy cut of venison. He stood and smoothed out his dark jacket.

“I shall testify,” He declared as all stood in kind.

He slipped past Prince Loki and stepped down from the box. He strode to the stand upon his own and all saw the queen’s spine go rigid. Whispers nipped at your neck. The king turned to stand at the podium and Ellis marveled at his stature.

“Your highness, do you promise to tell the truth entirely and without censor before these cardinals and before our lord in this court of the See?”

“I do. I swear it upon the Lord himself and these holy cardinals who sit here today.” The king replied. A politician in his glory. You struggled to keep from a sneer. You’d struggle for times to come. For you would be bound to him until you could not hide it.

“Thank you, your highness,” Ellis continued. “We shall start by asking upon the circumstance of your betrothal to the queen?”

“Well, I assume it was as any betrothal was. At least, I did. Our contract was arranged and she did arrive to fulfill it. Our marriage was documented and witnessed by the kingdom upon the eve of my ascent.” He explained.

“So you did believe it to be valid?”

“Of course, I did.” The king returned.

“And so then, when did you come to doubt it?” Ellis asked as he leaned on his podium.

“Why I did not know of any reason to doubt it until after we were wed. Or what I thought to be wed. The ambassador who did accompany her to see to the union did not reveal to me her standing contract to King T’Challa.” The king looked down and exhaled glumly. “It was my own advisers who did find the discrepancy but were met with silence from Asgard.”

You looked to Prince Loki as he traced his jawline with two fingers. He did not seem perturbed by the statement, only watched with cool eyes.

“And your relationship with the queen, despite your doubts, was it amicable?” Ellis ventured.

“I believe this court has proven it was not,” Steve returned. “But not upon by own fault, I believe. Not at first.”

“And what do you believe soured this relationship?”

“I did try. I did. I was young and hopeful. As my father did love his queen, I longed to share the same bond with my own. I tried, though I cannot deny my flaws, to build something between us. Anything.” He lamented. “And at first, I thought it could be.”

“And then?”

“And then I did not because she saw those hopes dashed. When I would ask after her, she would remain quiet. When I did seek to perform my… husbandly duties, she would not allow it. She would have our marriage barren, the kingdom without an heir for her arrogance. Her paranoia.” The shook his head. “She did accuse me of the most foul offences but still I did try.”

“My lord,” Eleanor’s voice cut through the air. “Am I not allowed a chance to defend myself? To present my half of our relation?”

“You shall have your turn,” Ellis chided. “This is a court, we must allow our witnesses to speak clearly. Without interruption.”

“This trial is not yet decided, Lord Ellis,” Eleanor snarled. “I am still your queen and will not be spoken to thus.”

“Well, your highness,” Ellis coated the words in venom. “If you shall not abide the rules of the court, you will be removed and forfeit your time at the stand.”

Eleanor did not answer. She stood with her chin high and waited. Ellis returned his attention to Steve.

“Your highness, would you explain to us how the relationship did disassemble?”

“I cannot say for certain when it began but it was not long after our wedding. She grew cold, she was aloof. She could not even pretend to care for me though we do know that in many unions such as ours, it is required.” The king turned to look at Eleanor, he held his head as a kicked dog would.

“She would not have me and I suspect the only reason she did agree to this fallacious marriage was to flout her father, as she was known to do. As we’ve heard in her refusal to even attend his funeral. Though I did beg her to go; I even offered to travel with her.”

“And what do you think led to her act of treason?”

“Time and hatred.” The king answered. “She did let her loathing for me ferment for years and I do believe her first scheme was to direct me to another lady. To justify her distaste by forcing a detestable offense upon me.”

“You speak of Malford.” Ellis led.

“I speak of the lady who did take this stand so bravely. Of the lady I fear I did place within the sights of the queen’s wrath. Who I did only regard innocently.” The king affirmed.

“But when I did not take the queen’s bait and catch myself on her snare, she grew desperate. And she sought to dispose of us both. To poison us as we broke fast. For I did seek an audience with Lord Malford and his daughter did happen to be in attendance.”

“And did you suspect Eleanor to have planted the poison?”

“Not immediately. I never thought the woman I’d thought to be my wife should commit a sin so grievous against me. To act so inhumanly towards me, and for what? Because she did regret her deceit of King T’Challa and her own father. Even of myself. She sought to absolve herself before she would be found out.”

“And when did you come to suspect her?”

“When my advisers presented to me the poison used in the food served to me. When they explained to me that the vial had been found in the hands of queen’s servant. That it had been purloined from the chest of the physician upon his last visit to her.” Steve sighed. “I did not want to believe it but the evidence would not allow me to believe otherwise.”

“The very same apothecary who did visit the lady you chased so vehemently,” Eleanor hissed. “Your own physician.”

“The royal physician,” The king corrected as Ellis glared at the queen. “Whom I did offer to the lady when she was injured upon a royal hunt. When she was injured by the will of that who would call herself queen. Who would wield her power for the ill of others.”

“And so we are here,” Ellis intoned. “And you do believe still your marriage to be null?”

“I believe it to have never been,” Steve said quietly. “And that I have been made a fool of before my own kingdom. As this other king,” He nodded to T’Challa, “Has been mocked and the princess’s own homeland. We’ve all been flagrantly deceived by this woman who would so slyly call herself my wife.”

The king went quiet and lowered his hand. He reached to touch his face and all heard the small sniff. He breathed and raised his head. “Forgive me, it does pain me to speak of it.”

“You needn’t apologize, your highness,” Ellis allayed. “You have been most forthcoming in your answers and we do thank you for it.”

“Thank you, Lord Ellis,” The king returned. “I hope I was helpful.”

The queen shook her head as she clasped her hands before her. Steven stepped down from the stand and passed before Eleanor with a pitiable look upon his face. He climbed up to his box as Eleanor pushed her shoulders back. She looked to the cardinals and then to the royals; she did not turn away and you could only imagine the glare she served them.

“Cardinals, we do conclude our calling of witnesses and would open the floor to the accused.” Ellis announced. “We would merely end by asking that you do consider all you have heard in the last weeks and to think deeply on the matter and of the consequence of your verdict. We thank you for your patience and your equanimity.”

“Lord Ellis,” The cardinal who sat centre to the party nodded. “We thank you for your diligent efforts in presenting this case and overseeing the proceedings. We shall here the accused and will retire for our deliberation thereafter.”

Ellis stepped down and sat with the council along the front bench. Eleanor watched him from the corner of her eye before she turned to the cardinals. “Do I have leave to speak, your holiness?” She asked.

“You do,” The cardinal waved his fingers.

"I have a been a loyal wife to Steven for nearly half my life. I have never spoken ill of him and I have never deceived him. Though he would have you see me otherwise, I have been a most faithful and tolerant wife." Eleanor's voice was stern and silenced the hushed remarks of the impatient.

"And I have been a good queen, as good a queen as I could be. I have lived far from my home and presided over a people who would forsake me my blood. Who would forgive those crimes committed against me because they were committed by one of their own ilk.

"I have listened to these lies and have bore more than any woman, queen or otherwise, should of her own husband. When it was convenient, I was crowned and now that it is no longer, I shall be torn out root and stem.

"I confess to that which I am guilty, that I was envious, that I was spiteful, that I did wish away those who humiliated me. My pride has ever been my greatest flaw.

"I did plot to have the lady thrown from her horse if only to intimidate. But I did not have such grand machinations as poison. Why should I scheme to deploy my own husband and king when his people love me not? When it should have me in worse circumstances than merely a woman betrayed by her own husband?"

Eleanor turned so that she faced the audience. Yellow light shone over her hair and she looked like a lioness ready to pounce.

"This man," She pointed behind her to King Steven, "This fool you call king would have me dethroned so that he may sate his endless appetite. So that he may replace me with a woman he might control more easily. As he controls all of you. As he manipulates and maneuvers this court to his whims."

She snarled and threw up her hands. "There is no hope in recounting the events which have already discussed for you shall not believe it from my lips should I attempt to weed out the lies. You are all the pawns in a game played for the sake of one man's indulgence."

She looked across the audience and her eyes fell upon you. There was a flicker, a crack in the ice. She shook her head and spun to face her judges.

"He is the king of fools and he keeps company with his own kind. My own brother does see to my disposal. There is not a king in this world who would serve any but himself."

She paused and all was silent. All sat in shock at the queen's anger.

"This is a pauper's court. A mockery of the law." She spat. "Have it done with, this torture has lasted long enough.

"I have nothing more to say to you wolves for you shall have my skin. Only that the tainted soil in which you plant your seed will grow to be rancid and rotten so that one day you shall taste the corruption that festers."

The room was stunned. King Steven boiled as King T'Challa stared at Eleanor and Prince Loki smirked. He seemed all too amused by the scene. You felt as if the chamber had grown smaller.

"Ahem," The cardinal spoke at last. "Is that all you have to say then?"

"There is nothing else to say," She growled as she resumed her former statue-like pose.

👑

The cardinals deliberated for three days. Three days of despair. Not that you could imagine what Eleanor was feeling. You spent most of it alone with the exception of Marge who brought you your meals and tried to easy your pacing anxiety.

When the court was called back to hear the verdict, you felt as if you were in a dream. An unending nightmare.

You stood with the lords and ladies as they awaited their entrance. When at last the doors opened, you were in no hurry and the last to sit among the rabble. The room was static with anticipation.

The queen was led in by two guards and strode to her podium. She wore a gown the colour of blood. It reminded you of the rosette. Her skin was milky and her matching hood showed a peek of her ashy hair. She stood proudly to face her judgment.

The court sat as the central cardinal raised his hand for order. The voices slowly hushed and the benches creaked beneath impatient rears. Your spine was straight, your entire body tensed.

The cardinal rose and looked around the chamber. He glanced at the kings and then to his fellow holy men. His pale eyes were glassy but focused.

"It is the duty of the See to sit on behalf of the Lord in trials such as this. To act as his eyes and his voice when it comes to matters of law." He was steady but not rushed In his speech. And while it was surely rehearsed, it did not sound it.

"It is rare that we should ever oversee a case so contentious. That we should hear of crimes so cruel and tragic that they do make us reflect on the very essence of humanity. That we do wonder at the power of kings and queens and the corruption they may sew with it.

"Wealth is not a sin, but greed is among the most heinous. Confidence, no, but avarice surely. Emotion is entirely mortal and yet wrath is most sinister. Envy too. And lust should not be overlooked."

The cardinal crossed his hands over his round stomach as he looked down his puggish nose. "And when these sins mingle together we do witness the most inhumane of crimes." He turned to the queen. "And it is to us to preserve that humanity which remains among us. To protect those who are the victim of such repulsive acts.

"And so it is to us cardinals, bearing the seal of the See and thus of the lord that we hand down our verdict. As we do, we ask you to bear witness to our decision as ordained by the lord."

You felt your breath quicken and reached for Marion's hand. The stained-glass blurred and Eleanor's figure melted into the kaleidoscope.

"Eleanor, daughter of Odin of Asgard, we find you guilty of the crime of adultery in that you did consummate your marriage with King T’Challa of Wakanda and in that your marriage to King Steven was never valid as a result. And of treason in that you did plot to defame and ultimately poison King Steven.”

A ripple went through the crowd. Gasps mixed with whispers, both shocked and malicious. King Steven watched the cardinal, barely able to contain his delight, as King T’Challa listened passively, and Prince Loki crooked a brow but did not seem unhappy. You felt suddenly dizzy and squeezed Marion’s hand.

“My lady, are you well?” She asked as the cardinal called for peace.

You couldn’t answer and only stared at the back of the queen’s head. She didn’t move and you could not see her face. Was she distraught? Angry? Afraid? You felt a twinge of each as you sat dazed on the bench.

“Eleanor of Asgard,” The cardinal called to the dismantled queen. “For your offences, we do sentence you to death.”

The air went out of the room and your breath was crushed from your lungs in your shock. You shook as you clung to Marion and shook your head. “No, no, no…” You repeated over and over as you rocked on the bench.

Your head spun and you looked to her; her face blended contorted as your lungs filled all at once. You gulped down the air frantically as if you were drowning and the light and shadow stirred together. You felt as if you would suffocate as dark spots speckled the walls, the ceiling, and Marion’s peachy skin. A final rise of voices piqued as you plummeted downward.

And at once, the world was entirely black.

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #series #fic #au #medieval au #mcu #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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