#HIS WIFE. the woman who will bear his children. the partner who will walk beside him for the rest of his life. i'm not doing good rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

superhero--imagines · 3 years

Text

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! < This is Part 19!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

Song Here- (X)

Big thanks to @imdoingathingmom and @bbibbisan for doing a sensitivity read!

* This could be worse, you remind yourself as you feed your deer

* Much, much worse

* “How much am I supposed to give them?” The tall, ebony colored man says from beside you, his bright red eyes seem to glow under the pale moonlight

* “Um.. for that one, you can feed it as much kale as you want, but be careful James, he’s kinda insatiable. He’ll eat your clothes if you give him the chance”

* James nods, tearing the kale in careful ribbons.

* He smiles when the deer eats right out of his palm.

* You’re not going to lie, you were 100% surprised when the blond turned out to be Laurent and the black guy was James

* You were even more surprised when he asked if he could help you feed your animals

* You watch him smile as he gives the deer a gentle pat, feeding it more kale

* Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing the teddy bear in front of you is some psychopath tracker

* The story went that while you and Edward were out, the coven decided to play some baseball up in the mountains, and the sound caught their attention as they were passing through

* Apparently this was a fast friends situation, because Carlisle and Laurent have been reminiscing about their geezer pre-colonialism days

* You look to the house, you can see Edward’s inside from the window, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small smile

* Well that seems hopeful

* “I used to take animals before I turned” James’s deep voice calls you back to the situation at hand

* “Oh were you a farm hand?” You’re peeling an orange, which Henrietta the third is already licking at impatiently

* “Um, not quite, I was a slave”

* You stop peeling the orange

* James tells you his story- he was a third generation slave, fathered from the master, his mother passed away shortly after his birth

* “I was lucky- in a sense, the master -my father- he was a superstitious man, and my mother- she had a reputation”

* His mother was a slave in name only, was what he told you. She was more of a mistress or a concubine.

* “At least that’s what they said, Though I’m not sure how much of that is true, I’m fairly certain she didn’t enjoy being with him. She was just trying to survive”

* His mother had been ostracized, even amongst others like them, but not because of her social position in the household

* “They thought she was a witch,” he admitted. “Bad things happened to people who wronged her, and good things happened to those who helped her”

* That sounds like Alec and Jane

* “When she was on her death bed, she laid a “curse” on the owner of the plantation, that if I wasn’t taken care of she would haunt him and bring misfortune on the entire family for several generations”

* And so, James became the unfavorable third son of the Pickett family.

* “I had many opportunities from her sacrifice, I learned to read and write, but I was more or less shunned from the house- both by my family and by the other slaves”

* It was lonely, almost painful.

* “But there was one thing, a ray of light-“ his eyes flit towards the window, and you follow his gaze to the red haired woman in the green chair

* “Victoria, she was my eldest brothers fiancé”

* The youngest daughter of the wealthiest man in town, from the outside she was a blossoming socialite

* The most beautiful girl in town

* But behind closed doors...

* Victoria was the product of an affair, a mistresses child, reluctantly brought into the household when her mother passed

* “She had big dreams, she loved to read, she yearned to study, to educate herself, to use her mind”

* And so, two lost souls found each other

* “Our family would never have allowed it. So we decided to run away together” he smiles, but it’s bitter.

* They claimed he had abducted her, perhaps to save face, and sent slave catchers to find them.

* “I’m not quite sure what happened-I remember being shot and telling Victoria to go in without me- all I ever wanted was for her to be happy.”

* This is heartbreaking

* “When I woke up, Laurent was there, and my throat burned”

* So Laurent had been with them for all that time, he was their creator

* “Afterwards the three of us worked in ‘the underground railroad’ helping slaves to the north where they could be free”

* “I’m thankful to him, for saving us, we wouldn’t have been able to be in a world where we could be together if it weren’t for him-“

* “But you wonder what the trade off is” you finish and he nods

* No longer human

* Purpose only lasts so long in this life, after all human life only has meaning because you know one day it will end

* “I found a penchant for tracking, it turns out what they said about my mother might have held some truth”

* James calls it “extreme luck”, there’s no other word for his gift.

* If he’s looking for something - or someone- it’ll inevitably find him through pure luck. Like the world bends to his will

* But it only works with finding things

* “These days we work as bounty hunters, and we only feed from people beyond redemption”

* Murder and rapists it sounds like

* “I didn’t know there was another way”

* “That’s understandable, I didn’t know either until I met Carlisle” he looks at you with kind eyes, and so with a deep breath you tell him your story

* About the Volturi, your parents, Alec and Jane-

* “I think you would like them, they’re a little off putting at first, but they warm up pretty fast”

* “Like cats” he says

* “Like cats” you agree

* You tell him about meeting Carlisle, how he saved you,

* how Eleazer gave you a home and a family,

* and about Edward, who gave you a chance to live

* Not just to survive, but to truly live

* “We’re not so different you and I” James says with a smile, and you mirror his expression

* “No we aren’t”

* Though of course you wouldn’t compare the relatively privileged life you had to his

* But the loneliness you both experienced is not all that different

* The tie that binds you all

* And then you do something you’ve never done before

* “You know, I don’t belong to this coven, not really” it’s the first time you’ve admitted it to anyone

* “Oh?”

* “My coven is in Denali, they have a permanent settlement there, and they follow the er... same alternative lifestyle”

* He laughs

* “I’m sure they would love two or three more, we’ve got like thirteen spare rooms in that house”

* You still remember the antiquated scooby Doo mansion-esque hallways filled with armor and swords

* He looks at you for a long time, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable

* “I won’t follow another leader”

* You nod, that’s understandable.

* Laurent created them, and it seems he’s happy with their current lifestyle, they won’t betray him

* “Not unless it’s you”

* ........

* What?!?!

* “M-me?” You sputter, your orange peel filled hand clutching your chest

* “Why would you want to follow me? I’m only nineteen years old- I don’t even have a high school degree yet!”

* He laughs at your panicked expression

* “You know that doesn’t matter to our kind,” his eyes twinkle as he looks at you.

* “Call it witchcraft if you like, but you’re going to accomplish great things, I can feel it deep in my bones”

* Garrett had said the same thing, but the way James says it-

* You really believe it.

* He doesn’t want anything from you you, not a kiss or a date-

* He just wants to be your friend, to be apart of your vision

* Whatever it may be

* “Here’s my card-“

* He holds out his business card to you, unlike Garett’s it’s a cheap cardboard white with his profession and number on the front

* “If you ever find yourself in need of someone to help with your animals, let me know”

* You nod, taking his card in your hands

* “Um there’s one more thing I could use your help with-“

* He points to the large window, right at Alice

* “I know that girl but she doesn’t seem to know me.”

* “Well how does that work”

* He tells you how many years ago, a woman was looking for her sister.

* “It was a bit of a Cinderella story”

* The woman’s father had remarried quickly after his wife’s death, and the step mother had sent his children away. The younger sibling, his client, was lucky and was sent to a relative.

* But the older, who had suspected something amiss had happened to her mother, was sent to a mental asylum

* “You know me, I find things, it’s my gift.”

* But when he found the girl, she was no longer human. Already turned.

* “I tried to approach her, but she didn’t seem to remember anything”

* “Alice doesn’t have any of her memories from before she turned, she woke up in the woods all alone”

* The only thing guiding her were her visions.

* James nods solemnly

* “Should I...should I tell her?”

* You look to Alice.

* She’s smiling at something Victoria said.

* How many nights has she spent wondering who she really was, feeling so happy she had a family and a partner, but wondering if she left someone behind

* How would she feel when she found out?

* “I think you should tell her.”

* If it was you, even if it hurt, you would want to know

* James nods

* “Okay”

* You walk inside together, and immediately look to Edward

* Your own personal vampire lie detector

* “He did lie about one thing-“ Edward tells you once James pulls Alice aside.

* Was he actually tracking Alice to hunt her?

* Your heart drops at the thought

* “His mother didn’t die from natural causes, she committed suicide because she knew it would secure his future” Edward tells you with a somber expression.

* “He just didn’t want you to feel bad”

* You smile and nod.

* What a strong person, you can’t even imagine

* Edward pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss in your hair

* You feel bitter sweet about the whole thing

* Especially as you watch them leave in the morning, right before you’re going to head off to school

* Jasper is holding Alice who seems vulnerable, but relieved

* They’re leaving so soon, you didn’t even get a chance to get to talk to Victoria or Laurent

* You watch James stand next to Victoria, they’re talking to Carlisle.

* They’re not even touching, but you can feel the intimacy radiate off of them

* You wonder if maybe you and Edward might get to be that close one day

* James meets your gaze and smiles

* “I’ll see you around sometime leader!” He calls out, earning confused looks from your coven and his

* You smile back and give him a nod

* You’re still not sure what your future holds

* But you know you wouldn’t have gotten this far if it weren’t for the kindness of others

* You want to make them proud

* And then in a gust of wind, he’s gone

* They all are

* “See, I didn’t commit murder or anything, I told you things were different” Edward says with a teasing smile

* You roll your eyes and lightly shove him while he just laughs

* He’s right though, that was different

* “Enough flirting kids, you’re going to be late for school, and I really don’t want to deal with that dick in the front office acting all high and mighty because they think I can’t control my children” Esme yells

* School?

* Oh sh*t you didn’t do your homework

* “Edward-“

* “I’ll drive and tell you the answers on the way there” he says catching the keys you toss to him

* “It’s the-“

* “The Trig homework, I know. It’s your worst subject”

* Well you do struggle with trig quite a bit

* “Though to be fair you’re pretty terrible at all of them”

* He barks laughing when you shove him before getting into the car through the passenger side

* Carlisle and Esme watch you from the doorstep

* “They’re so good together-“ Esme starts

* “I know, I never thought our Edward would look at anyone like that”

* Carlisle and Esme exchange a look

* Before you came around-

* Well it wasn’t bad, but he certainly didn’t look like that.

* And he never smiled like that either

* Immortality had hardened him, made him into a man

* But with you-

* Well, with you he looks just like a boy

* A boy in love for the first time

* “I wonder what kind of children they might have had” Esme wonders with a small grin

* Him, with his ability to read minds, and you with that positively monstrous power of yours

* Any number of possibilities is possible

* “Best not to think of such things” Carlisle murmurs

* Though you two may be together for eternity, with the endless options, you’ll never have that.

* Esme nods

* “I’m late to get to the hospital, surgery this morning” he mumbles kissing her on the cheek before walking to the car

* She watches him go, his sleek white Volvo disappearing down the road before looking up to the sky

* “What a shame, I would have liked a cute grandchild or two running around” she mumbles to herself before turning to go inside

* “Entertaining always leaves me exhausted, guess I’ll give my employees the day off”

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796 @moose-squirrel-asstiel @hotmessgoodness @jaimewho @corabmarie @what-am-i-doing10 @alluring-venus @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse @im-tired-not-sleepy @emmettcullenisahimbo @my-super-musical-life @smolvampiregirl @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252 @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz @reclusive-chicken-nugget @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow @bwbatta

#twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight reader insert #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen headcanon #edward cullen fanfiction #midnight sun #superhero-imagines

423 notes · View notes

zaffrenotes · 3 years

Text

[TRR] Kairos

Kairos - Part 12

Pairing: Liam x Riley, Liam x OC Series Rating/Warnings: 18+; language; series will include ns*w 🍋 scenes Chapter Rating/Warnings: G Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Kairos (καιρός) is a word in Greek that translates to “the right time” or “the right moment to act” * Liam’s wife asks about “the one that got away” one night over dinner, and Liam recounts a relationship from his past * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles Prompt 89: This isn't what I had in mind, but okay. * Author’s Note 2: * I apologize if this chapter feels choppy; I haven't updated this story since January, and writing is H A R D, but I want to finish this AU. I know how it ends, I just have to *gestures at the air* get there. * Word Count: 1708

Catch up with previous chapters here

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for this series): @ao719 @blackcatkita @debramcg1106 @ofpixelsandscribbles @callmeellabella @smalltalk88 @aestheticartsx @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @choiceskatie @darley1101 @dcbbw @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake @liamxs-world @rainbowsinthestorm @riseandshinelittleblossom @superharriet @texaskitten30 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @the-soot-sprite // @alyssalauren @clairexoxo100 @cordonianroyalty @cordonian-literature @gkittylove99 @gnatbrain @jared2612 @kingliam2019 @mom2000aggie @pink-diamond13 @princessleac1 @queenjilian @sfb123 @txemrn @yourmajesty09

The evening carried on, and it was nearly impossible for Liam to pull himself away from one conversation to the next. Most of the new suitors vied for his attention to make a good impression, various nobles edged their way into conversations to discuss official business, and his friends made every effort to steal him away for short reprieves. He was dancing when he caught a flash of Max’s dress near the edge of the dance floor.

Brief glimpses and glances of a link to Liam’s almost-love was all The Fates seemed to grant for the duration of the ball, despite his best efforts to carve out a moment with Max. The irony wasn’t lost on him; having found a connection to Elia after years had passed, without a way to speak with her sister. His hand warmed against his dancing partner’s palm as they waltzed with other couples.

“What’s troubling you tonight? Besides the obvious farce of this whole ordeal.” A pair of cherry red lips curled into a sympathetic grin, and Liam nodded in silent agreement. “Something other than counting steps is running through your mind.”

Liam adjusted his grip on Olivia’s hand as he led her across the floor, quickly scanning the crowd for another glimpse of Max. “I require the assistance of a dear friend,” he answered quietly, twirling her in a circle. “Someone who knows of secret passages in the palace to remain undetected, who can also speak with one of the new ladies at court.”

One of Olivia’s brows arched in Liam’s direction. “Has someone managed to catch your eye already?”

“Not the way you think,” he replied. “It’s a long story, and right now I’m grasping at straws, but it’s…something.” As Liam twirled his childhood friend in another circle, the expression in his eyes conveyed the seriousness of his request.

Olivia’s back tensed when she looked up to meet her friend’s gaze, though they moved effortlessly through the song. “What do you need me to do, Li?”

“There’s a young woman here, wearing a peacock ballgown. Her name is Max.”

“There’s some irony,” Olivia giggled. “Maxwell’s probably talking her ear off over her dress alone.”

“I haven’t been able to speak with her since we were introduced.”

“Tell me when and where, I’ll make sure you converse with her before morning.”

Liam shook his head at the suggestion. “That’s not the kind of conversation I need to have, Liv. I do need to speak with her though. It could mean cancelling the rest of the social season before it’s had a chance to begin, in a good way.”

Olivia arched her brow at Liam again, as the music began to come to an end. “I’m going to need a full story about this very soon, if she’s a means of ending the season.”

Liam let out an anxious laugh. “Soon enough, of course. Get her as close as possible to my office without being seen.” He looked over Olivia’s shoulder to see Bastien by the ballroom doors, nodding at him just before Bastien said something to another member of the Kings Guard. “Enjoy the rest of the ball, I’ve got to go over details for tomorrow’s events. Shouldn’t take longer than an hour.”

Nearly an hour after Liam departed the ballroom, he sighed with relief to enjoy the silence in his office once Regina and her team of event planners were satisfied with preparations for the garden party. He poured himself a bit of scotch in a glass as a nightcap, glancing at the clock on the wall. Most of the guests had ventured home while he went over checklists with Regina, minus the suitors and their sponsors that would live at the palace for the next several weeks.

Another weary sigh slipped past Liam’s lips as he returned to the ornate desk in the office, and he removed the cufflinks Madeleine had given to him as a gift. He rolled up his sleeves, trying to ignore the soft ticking of the clock, wondering if Olivia had managed to get a hold of Max. Princess Maria Amelita Xamira Basilio, who had a sister that went by the name Elia. There were too many similarities in her siblings names and the fact that Max looked so similar in appearance to Elia.

He’d opened the laptop on the desk and was about to type Elia’s real name into the search window, when there was a knock at the door. Liam rushed out of his seat to answer, loudly whispering a name when he turned the knob. “Olivia? Is that you?” He was surprised to see Max in the hallway by herself. “Your Highness, please, come in,” he said, stepping aside to let Max pass. “Did anyone see you?”

Max bowed her head to Liam as she stepped into his office. “No, Lady Olivia led me through a number of passages from my room, and distracted the very tall, silver-haired guard down the hall.”

Liam chuckled softly. “That would be Bastien. He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for Olivia, ever since we were children.” He closed the door shut before walking towards the liquor cabinet. “May I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she replied, taking a seat in one of the small couches. “To what do I owe this clandestine invitation?”

Liam sat down in the matching sofa across from Max, clasping his hands together as he carefully chose what to say next. “Max, you and I are both aware of the reason you’re here, participating in the social season. Under other circumstances, I’m certain you would have caught my eye, just as you did earlier this evening.”

Max chewed a tiny spot of her inner cheek. “There’s a ‘but’, isn’t there?”

“The reason you caught my eye was because you bear a striking resemblance to someone I met several years ago, before I met and married my first wife, Riley. Someone who, until tonight, I thought was lost to me.”

“Are you saying I’ve got a secret twin you’ve already met? This isn’t what I had in mind, but okay.” She grinned conspiratorially at him. “Who’s this doppelgänger that’s stuck with you?”

Liam sucked in a breath before answering. “As it were, it’s your sister. Elia.”

Max blinked at him silently, her eyes welling up with glossy tears at the mention of her name. “You…you knew Elia? When? When did you see her? Have you heard from her?” The questions tumbled out all at once, as Max tried to compose herself.

He picked up a gilded box of tissues from a side table, offering it to her. Max pulled two from the box, dabbing at the corners of her eyes, waiting for a response. “It’s been a number of years,” he began. “She was vacationing in Greece, just before she was supposed to return to university to study law.”

Max stopped dabbing at her tears to look up and study Liam’s face. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the guy.”

Liam’s brows pinched together. “She mentioned me?”

“Very briefly,” she responded. “Only that she met someone that gave her a reason to laugh every day, and seemed to understand what she – what we,” she paused, motioning to herself, “were going through, being…high profile?”

“That’s one way to describe it,” Liam chuckled softly. “She never said outright that she was a princess, but after we parted ways, many of the things we shared in our conversations made sense.” He looked up to see a puzzled expression on Max’s face. “Her fluency in languages, the way she could tell stories about growing up in vivid detail while overlooking things like ‘I grew up in a palace’ or ‘my parents were especially strict with me and my siblings’…”

“Oh by the way, that’s because they’re the king and queen?” Max scoffed lightly, shaking her head.

“I tried to look for her, for quite some time after that trip,” Liam added. “Only…my efforts were in vain, as the names she used were all nicknames. Even her own name wasn’t fully hers. Elia de Leon.”

Max sniffled and the puzzled expression returned to her face. “De Leon? That’s…our great-grandmother’s name.”

“I suppose that makes sense as well, now that I’m familiar with your family name. Had I searched for Elia Basilio, I might have found out about the royal connection, not that it would’ve changed my opinion of her.” Liam ran a hand across his face, his jawline and chin already rough with stubble. “You haven’t heard from her since that summer either? Anyone in your family?”

“No,” Max answered. “When her personal guard called the morning he was supposed to escort her home, he told my parents the apartment was empty…that she must have snuck away the night before.”

“But I was with her until morning.”

“What?”

“I…” Liam hesitated, taking in a breath. “I had dinner with Elia the night before she was supposed to leave. We talked long into the night, and I told her I was a prince. I even offered to let her stay with me here to take more time and consider alternative options to create some distance with your parents.”

“Because they wanted to marry her off, right?”

“Correct,” Liam nodded. “She only told me it was for a political alliance, to put your family name in a positive light after Mariela’s marriage to someone caused trouble.”

Max sighed with indignation. “That guy, ugh. That’s a story for another evening.” She began to wring the tissue between her hands. “But you saw Elia the next morning?”

“Yes, in fact I was the one that slipped out while she was still sleeping, long after dawn. I stopped for a coffee in the café below where she’d been staying, on my way to return home as well, and I…” Liam paused, recalling the man in the café that morning, remembering the other patron. “You said she had a personal security guard assigned to her?”

“Beni…Benigno, yes,” Max replied.

“Do you have a photo of him?”

“I can do better than that,” Max answered, pulling her phone from the pocket of her cardigan. “He’s here as my security and chaperone for the duration of my stay.”

#the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance fanfiction #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction #the royal romance au #trr au #trr liam x oc #king liam x oc #wacky drabbles #wackydrabbles #playchoices fanfic #choices fanfiction #zaffrenotes writes

53 notes · View notes

gaemkyuu · 3 years

Text

Of Kings & Queens (Part 2)

Warnings: none! A/N: Part two! We get to meet our Princes! I know you are eager to see Prince Charlie, but I really want to build the story up. AU!Prince Charlie Gillespie x Fictional Character Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6

For any normal girl in the Kingdom, their coming of age would be spending time with friends and an intimate celebration with their nearest and dearest. As the sole heir to the Western Kingdom, her coming of age needed to be big and glamorous. But this was more than just celebrating her birthday, it was an announcement to the entire nation that Princess Olivia is looking for a King.

In every Royal family in history, there had always been a male heir to ascend to the throne and assume the position of King, when their fathers were ready to step down. These sons would become the governing power over their Kingdom and would be responsible for overseeing the entire Kingdom, including relational affairs with the other Kings.

The Lee family always gave birth to healthy male offspring that always ascended to the throne, but unfortunately Olivia’s mother fell ill after she was born and was no longer able to bear children. Being an only child to the King and Queen, put quiet pressure and guilt on the Princess. From a young age, Olivia felt responsible as the only heir of the Lee family to one day take on the role of King. However, her mother quickly squashed this idea when she started to teach her the roles of females in society.

A good Queen is poised and graceful.

A good Queen is compassionate and empathetic to her people.

A good Queen is meant to support the King.

A good Queen stays silent and composed until she is asked for her opinion.

A good Queen listens to her King and does not order them around.

Olivia was compassionate and empathetic, and her people could attest to that. She often spent days in the markets and on the streets, greeting the people in the Kingdom and supporting their businesses. She was known to volunteer her time with Savannah to the care homes and orphanages.

But graceful? Poised? Silent? Composed? Not Olivia!

Her father always described her as strong willed but stubborn and that she could put some Princes to shame with her knowledge and understanding of the Kingdom. He always believed that one day his daughter would make a fine ruler, but as tradition stated, she must become a queen. Something that Olivia fought tooth and nail to change. It caused many disputes between her and her parents but they all ended with the fact that Olivia was meant to take her mother’s role as Queen, the support to the King.

Olivia prided herself on being the sole heir to the Western Kingdom. From a young age, she proved to be very smart and intuitive, something which her father encouraged within her. Her father always described her as strong willed but stubborn and that she could put some Princes to shame with her knowledge and understanding of the Kingdom. She learned about all the inner workings of the Kingdoms, the political stances and perspectives, the justice system, military tactics and the economy. One would say that if Olivia were a boy, she would make a fine King.

However, that was the problem. The King always believed that one day his daughter would make a fine ruler, but as tradition stated, she must become a queen. Olivia could not be appointed ruler of her kingdom simply because she was a girl and her father was not going to break tradition, despite his confidence in his daughter. Something that Olivia fought tooth and nail to change. It caused many disputes between her and her parents but they all ended with the fact that Olivia was meant to take her mother’s role as Queen, the support to the King. No matter what Olivia did or how many times she proved capable of being the leader of their kingdom, there was absolutely no way that she could escape being a Queen that sat beside her husband “advising” him.

Now that she was officially on the Royal Market, she knew that the Kingdoms would send their best and Olivia would roll her eyes and be polite. Ever since she was a child, her mother would tell her about the day that she would one day wed and become queen. Olivia often questioned her mother how she felt about having her husband chosen for her and her mother would reply that she was fortunate that she loved her father before they were arranged to be married. Olivia wanted the beautiful love story that she read about in her fictional books and wished to be swept off her feet by her one true love, but this whole orchestrated event took that away from her.

Olivia fought hard against the Traditions of the Kingdom, that eventually, in order to come to some sort of compromise, Olivia would not have an arranged marriage, if she would stop trying to assume the throne. If Olivia conceded to take her place as Queen, they would not choose her suitor for her. As bad as she wanted the throne, if she was stuck with someone who her parents deem worthy of being King, she might be stuck with someone she didn’t want to be with.

Therefore, she wasn’t surprised when her parents announced that the Princes of the neighboring Kingdoms had accepted the invitation to her birthday party. Inside, she was dreading the forceful encounters and the testosterone that would be shoved down her throat. On the outside, she smiled politely and made no comment, something her parents were grateful for. Plus, she knew that if she played the game properly, she could refuse to marry anyone at the party and continue to refuse to marry, until her parents finally conceded and let her take the throne.

So she played the game and did her best to greet the guests as they entered. Olivia sat to the left of her mother, as each noble family came to greet them. She tried her best to look engaged and greet each family with as much enthusiasm as she could, but in all honesty, she was over the whole process and, much to her mother’s displeasure, it was starting to show on her face.

“Prince Owen and Hayden from the Southern Kingdom!”

In walked a very charming looking man with his equally charming brother. Both boys were blonde, blue eyed and tall, the family relation very evident in their appearance. With a bow to the King and Queen, the King reached out his hand, shaking theirs enthusiastically.

“Ah Prince Owen, how is your father?” asked the King.

“Healthy as ever your Majesty” Prince Owen smiled, bowing once more to the queen. “Your Majesty”

“Prince Owen, this is my daughter Princess Olivia” her mother gestured a hand in her direction, quickly shooting her a warning glance. Prince Hayden stepped forward and kissed her hand.

“My brother Prince Hayden, Princess. He is pleased to make your acquaintance and looks forward to speaking with you at some point today” she gave them a small smile and a curt nod.

“Great, a two for one deal” Olivia muttered, rolling her eyes, earning her a stifled chuckle from Prince Owen, as her mother cleared her throat.

“Prince Jeremy and Duchess Carolynn from the Eastern Kingdom!”

As Prince Owen and his brother bowed, excusing themselves to the side, in walked a charming looking brunette and a stunning woman. Both people were fair in skin with bright eyes and dark hair, walking in stride arm in arm. Olivia watched in envy as they shared a look of love with one another before bowing to her parents.

“Greetings to you both and congratulations on your engagement!” greeted the King.

“Thank you, your Majesty, we are fortunate to have been able to come to this special occasion for your family” smiled Prince Jeremy, his wife poised and graceful beside him.

“Do you have a date for your wedding and coronation Prince Jeremy?” asked the King.

“The prince shall be crowned in two months time, our wedding following shortly after your Majesty” his partner’s voice was as smooth as silk and she exuded confidence.

“So refined and well mannered, Duchess Carolynn. It would mean the world to me if you could spend some time with the princess and teach her how to be as graceful and poised as yourself” Olivia wanted to roll her eyes so badly, knowing that this was a stab at her stubbornness.

“It would be my pleasure your majesty” she smiled at Olivia, bowing, before the both of them moved off to the side. The doors to the throne room opened once again and two people approached the throne.

“King Patrick and Prince Charles of the Northern Kingdom”

“Welcome to the new King!” her father bellowed as he rose from his throne to shake the hand of King Patrick. Their father retired from the throne and Patrick was crowned the next King as his oldest son Ryan flourished in foreign affairs. King Patrick shook her fathers hand and her mother rose from her throne, curtsying to him. When Olivia made no move to get up, her mother expectantly cleared her throat. Olivia, out of the corner of her eye, saw Savannah subtly gesturing to her to stand up and she quickly did, nearly tripping over her long dress, only to be caught by strong arms.

“How you doin’?” she looked up at the face of her savior and saw the purest green eyes she had ever seen. The man in front of her helped her steady herself on her feet and winked at her, kissing her hand and bowing.

“Forgive me Princess, my brother Prince Charles should know better than to greet you so casually” King Patrick pulled his brother back, giving him a disapproving look to which Prince Charles rolled his eyes. Olivia giggled at the gesture in which the Prince winked in reply.

“Welcome to all who have traveled from near or far. It is our honor to have you here to celebrate the coming of age of Princess Olivia. Please enjoy the days festivities and we shall see you this evening for dinner and further celebration” a grand applause erupted in the throne room as bodies began to move to their respective areas. Olivia felt Savannah’s arms gently usher her away from the throne room and into the parlor behind the throne room.

“What are we doing now?” groaned Olivia, stiffly walking into the room.

“We need you to get ready for the evening’s affair-” Savannah was cut off by the door opening, the Queen walking in. Savannah quickly bowed to which the Queen raised her hand, gesturing Savannah to stop. She quietly moved to stand beside the door, leaving Olivia’s side and bowing her head silently as the Queen approached Olivia.

“Olivia, is it too much to ask that you be on your best behavior today?” her mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The queen let down her guard and hunched her shoulders.

“What do you mean? I was pretty well behaved out there. Do you know how many times I had to bite my tongue?” she scoffed, turning away from her mother and staring outside the window in the parlor.

“Yet the mutters, the sighs, the snide remarks and eye rolls escaped you.” The queen sounded annoyed and defeated. “I understand that if you could have it your way, you would get rid of this entire affair, but I am simply asking you to cooperate for today.”

“Mom, you’re housing a parade of single bachelors and trying to convince me to fall in love with one of them. I hardly know them!”

“And that is the purpose for tonight!”

“I can’t get to know someone in one night and fall madly in love with them!”

“These are excuses Olivia. When I was your age-”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I’m not you!”

“That is not what I’m saying Olivia-”

“Besides! If you would let me rule as Queen regent we wouldn’t have to go through any of this!”

A knock at the door interrupted their argument. The servant told the Queen she was being summoned by the king.

“As someone who is so insistent on ruling a kingdom on her own, there is little that you know about being a Queen. A true ruler puts their people before their own selfish desires. I understand the thought of being wedded to a man you hardly know is scary, but the people need a King. One you aren’t prepared to be. Your father isn’t getting any younger and his health is depleting.” Olivia was silenced at her mothers words. “If you truly want to prove that you are a fit ruler for this kingdom, then you should do what it is that the people need of you. I’ve said what I’ve needed to say” and with a swish of her gown and cape, she exited the room.

The tears Olivia had been holding in, started to spill over, much to her disdain. Quickly wiping them away and facing the window, she took a deep breath to steady her emotions. Savannah quietly walked up behind her and gave her a side hug and leaning her head on Olivia’s shoulder. “You are going to make a fine Queen and Ruler, Liv. Regardless of the circumstances around it.”

Olivia quietly thanked her best friend by hugging her back. She took a deep breath and straightened her spine, now more than ever determined to prove her mother wrong. Her mother only understood one way of bringing prosperity to the Kingdom because it was her way was the only way that was taught, but Olivia so badly believed that she could radically change their old traditions and still bring peace and prosperity to her Kingdom.

“Alright, what are the next three events?” Savannah perked up, admiring the strength in her.

“We have individual meetings with the honored guests from each Kingdom, afternoon tea with the women of the court and then changing you into tonight’s attire for the celebratory dinner” Olivia would forever be grateful to have Savannah at her side. There was no one who was as efficient and organized as her.

“Please tell me you’re dressing me and not my mother?” Savannah giggled at the statement and linked arms with Olivia.

“No one would dare touch you!” tag list: @ifilwtmfc @warmness0ul

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines #fanfiction #imagine #owen joyner

34 notes · View notes

mchalowitz · 4 years

Text

the woman is the king, part two

summary: a throughline of the matriarchal scullys; be they ethereal, sharp-witted, and ill-omened.

thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part of this story! writing again has been so great and i’m excited for everyone to read where it goes from here!

part 1: melissa

part 2: dana

———

The exam room is harshly lit, brutally overclean. When the doctor gives the diagnosis, it knocks the breath out of her, and she has the audacity to declare her gratitude. How could she.

The fragility of her age comes to mind on the drive home; her eyes prickle watching her copy of her oncology referral slide across the dashboard.

Dana is only thirty-three. Melissa was only thirty-three. She ponders her mother, Maggie, at thirty-three. Her destiny already decided; along for the military ride. She was carrying the fifth Scully child that year. Their matrarical line is cursed by the thirty-third year.

She simmers with the news for a few days; plotting methods of delivering impending doom. Mulder, the usual harbinger of bad news, is the one she tells first, and she believes using a clinician’s touch might soothe her.

The pronoun that binds them, the “we” travels from his vocal cords to their air between them. When he pauses, she can fill in the blanks of how he wants the sentence to end. We can do something about this or we can fix this. The problem is, there isn’t anything to be done.

Inside her head is a glass and cancer is the water from a faucet turned all the way on. They are merely waiting for the overflow.

Tara is pregnant; she is having a boy. Her brother’s wife is thirty-three. It must be so nice, to be dubbed a Scully, and yet remain so blessed at this foredoomed age.

An appointment to be pumped with poison and Tara’s baby shower fall in the same week. What a scheduling nightmare, she jokes, when she declines the invitation with warm regards. Bill does not laugh and he buys their mother a plane ticket.

The total lack of skeletal structure takes her over, has her melted into the couch. Scully finds the initial nausea passes quickly this time. It is the wave of self-consciousness from Mulder bearing witness to this betrayal of her body that lingers.

“It must be kind of exciting,” Mulder comments. She is watching him wipe down the counter and she doesn’t remember a single time she has seen him willingly clean anything. He is not half-assing any of the responsibilities bestowed upon him by the Mrs. Scully.

“It might be more exciting if it were someone else,” Scully responds, forgoing her usual diplomatic response on the subject.

Mulder pauses, focuses in on her eyes, and in unsaid words, he nods in agreement. He throws the wet rag into the sink with a stomach-churning squelch and falls beside her on the couch.

“You know,” she adds, “Melissa always said she wasn’t going to have kids until she was forty.”

Melissa would goad her into increasingly ridiculous futures; nothing is more ridiculous than futures that will never exist. Neither of them could have predicted such an outcome.

When they were young, one Scully sister was rarely found without the other. It was only the intricacies of adult life that would split them apart. Melissa yearned for adventure; to shed ideals and expectations from their youth in far off places. Their parents envisioned a certain fate for their children, and Dana followed it, until she didn’t.

As she conjures up those conversations about where their lives would go, she realizes she cannot even remember her voice. It rolls over her like a wave, the awareness of fading memories, and it cracks her guise held barely together.

Her glassy eyes brim and she finally crumbles, feeling wholly pathetic. She lacks her usual resiliency that he is accustomed to seeing from her as she weeps, “My sister is gone and I have cancer, Mulder.”

“I know,” he says.

“I’ll miss everything,” she whimpers. The weight of mortality hits her; the decades worth of wasted holidays and the lost memory of her nephew’s birth. Scully will never stand in resolution with her partner after their tireless work for the truth. The loss of an uncomplicated life feels enormous.

She laments what she was never sure of even desiring; the two-story in the suburbs, the babies of her own, the one true love...

“Let’s get married.”

His offer hangs in the air. Scully cries a bout of nausea and bolts for the bathroom. When she emerges, Mulder is there to tuck her into bed.

The sun sets and it rises again on a new day. She comes out of the bedroom apprehensively. Finding Mulder on one knee in her hallway isn’t an idea she can rule out completely. It wouldn’t even come close to the craziest thing she has seen him do.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Mulder rubs circles into his forehead with his cell phone pressed to his ear. She gets close enough to vaguely hear the caller on the other end, listen to the outrage behind, “I couldn’t even put the kettle on without her standing right behind me. In my own home, Fox,” and making it seem as though this is the only issue in the world that matters. And Scully kind of wishes that was true.

“That’s her job, Mom,” he replies. The tone of his voice almost makes her laugh. A polite but clear get me out of here she knows well that comes out during conversations with authority figures, midwestern cops, and not unsurprisingly, mothers.

Their eyes meet, he looks at her as though she is his unsurpassable savior. He begs off the phone, making the usual adult child promises, and sets his cell phone down on the table.

Scully commends Mulder for trying to be more involved with his family since his mother’s stroke. But what a fate he has, caring for the medically and emotionally broken women in his life. He gives her a tight lipped smile and she asks, “Is everything alright?”

“Jury’s still out,” he declares with a shrug. He stands and starts walking toward the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Water, toast, a ring?”

A certainly interesting turn of events for them, a question that could develop into an actual conversation about the night before.

“Mulder.”

“We could get married, Scully.”

“This is so like you, Mulder. This is your stream of consciousness decision making,” she counters. Scully flattens her hands on the table, takes a breath, and attempts to change her tone to sound a little more kind. “I know the idea that I’m dying is bleak. But there are implications to getting married. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Scanning Mulder’s eyes, Scully can see he understands what she means by implications. “Don’t think about that,” he tells her finally, “If you really believe this is the end, what do you still want to experience?”

Scully’s eyes flash away, toward the door. Four years ago, she stood in that spot, and assured her sister unequivocally of her absolute disinterest in dating her new partner. Even if he were just a guy.

Selfishness has often forced a wedge between them; a precursor to many experiences they would have as partners. His brilliance and humanity drew her in then, not unlike the way it does now. When the question was posed--just any guy--their debates were thrilling, a little flirtatious even, and now they can absolutely infuriate her, but she respects his ideals, and she knows that sentiment is reciprocated.

On occasion, Scully is even a little selfish, and allows herself to appreciate just a guy with a little flop of hair that falls onto his forehead, and with the most charming smile.

Whether it be guilt or admiration, Mulder wants her to experience everything before it gets taken away. She can admire the altruism.

Mulder doesn’t ask again, he only suggests. And she accepts.

The commencement of their marriage is without fanfare in a government building on a Friday afternoon with grocery store flowers and a safe kiss on the cheek to clinch the deal. There are no rings but he holds her left hand as they bound down the courthouse steps. During their late lunch at a local diner, the waitress notices their attire, and offers them a free slice of pie, any flavor they want, because it is a special occasion.

A few paces ahead of her on the way to the car, Mulder opens her door. “Your getaway car, my bride,” he teases. The smile on her lips quickly fades. His jovial face morphs to confusion.

But it’s the drip. Blood splatters on the clean, clear plastic protecting their chocolate cream. She tries to maneuver for her purse but he quickly procures tissues from the inside pocket of his jacket.

He squats next to the passenger side of the car and holds tissues to the nose of his bride.

Something is weirdly, intangibly incorrect.

It starts with weekend plans. Mulder is already well aware of her singular escape, her monograph for the Penology Review, with its looming deadline coming up.

He normally makes comments about her unwavering professionalism. It is a mutual agreement to keep their marriage to themselves. The federal government has no investment in the inner workings of their lives; they are legally married and they both know that could easily mean reassignment for both of them. It doesn’t stop him from sneaking in a few witticisms for his own amusement.

Mulder knocks. That’s weird.

The wine is truly suspicious. Except for the occasional beer, Mulder was never much for alcohol to begin with, but what is especially bizarre is the sudden lack of concern over her doctor’s recommended meal plan. He had been following it down to the last letter, and while a glass of wine is not exactly forbidden, it is not the first item on their shopping list.

“We never really talk much, do we?”

Admittedly, the shared looks and delicate touches of silent communication is where they excel, but the question is still somewhat puzzling. Since beginning a routine of casual marital cohabitation, she believes they talk quite a bit. The minutiae of everyday life is often a topic of conversation in ways it never has been.

Scully still plays along by agreeing that, no, they don’t talk. She sips wine and tells him true-ish stories of Marcus, the prom date of a Scully, but not herself, and the infamous pumper truck scandal involving her brother Charlie.

Romantic intimacy has not exactly been a component of their marriage and she has found that cancer does not make one feel like the most desirable of specimens. He has never expressed anything to make her believe he feels anything for her beyond friendship, despite the deep affection they share.

He leans in now; his eyes closed and head cocked. Kissing him isn’t a repulsive idea, but it just seems off, because Mulder is acting so strangely out of character.

Scully scrambles off the couch to get away from the man that is so clearly not her partner. Absolutely horrified, she stares at Mulder, and has no reservations when he steps forward to cuff the pathetic and vile man that invades her living room.

Many lines have still not been crossed and she doesn’t think they ever will be. The cancer is still aggressively present with the treatments doing very little.

Scully prepares herself for the eventuality of hospitalization, potentially for good, and it is very tempting to keep that from Mulder, to allow them to remain in their bubble, but she knows that isn’t fair.

Her car idles on the street outside Harold Spuller’s care home and three soft raps sound on her driver’s side window. She sucks in air deeply and wipes the tears from her cheeks before rolling down the window.

“I didn’t mean for things to get so heated back there.”

“Me neither,” she agrees. When her eyes flash up to his, so guilty and fond, her words fall out in a tumble, unable to prolong this evasion of the truth any longer. “I don’t know why I lied to you. I’m not fine. My treatments aren’t working and my doctors don’t think another round will change that.”

“I’m in this with you, Scully.”

“I know you are,” she affirms. She ducks her head down toward the steering wheel, like a little girl caught eating dessert before dinner. “I’m tired, Mulder.”

“I’ll follow you.”

His headlights shine in her rearview mirror, trailing behind all the way back to where they began this night in Georgetown. Arriving in the apartment, she shuts the door behind them, and informs him, “I’m going to take a shower,” and he nods, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder. He loosens his tie and starts meandering toward the bedroom.

The phantom ghost of his touch remains on her shoulder and it reminds her of his romantic soul that she is only now been introduced to. Mulder is more emotionally open and affection than she is. He treats her like a wife. They are married, after all.

Their marital bliss is of their own design; enjoyably innocent with its lack of certain intimate elements left largely undiscussed. However, there is delight to be found in mere shared company. With a no-work policy now enacted in her home, the opportunity to see funnier, more relaxed, and domestic sides of each other often makes it feel as though their marriage could be real.

An unspoken agreement to live this arrangement without rules creates something representative of authentic matrimony. Ignoring the initial awkwardness when sharing a bed leads to the normalization of pressing into his warm side each night; falling asleep faster and deeper. Leisurely playing with his hair while reading on the couch one evening introduced a few form of relaxation they both enjoy. He even calls her “honey” occasionally, and she must admit, it makes her feel pleasantly warm to hear it.

It wasn’t right to keep him out of the loop.

Sitting on the tile shower floor, Scully washes the last six hours from her skin. In an attempt to prove to herself, to everyone, that she can still do this, she pushes herself too far. The best decision for the case was to take down the nurse. For her fragile body, not as much.

A small box sits on top of her towel. She picks it up, weighing it gently in her palm.

Mulder already lies innocently under the covers and appears deeply enthralled in his nighttime reading. He looks very youthful and sweet in his wire-framed glasses and his large feet poking out at the end of the bed. She presents the box in question and inquires, “Mulder, what’s this?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs. He glances up briefly, taking off his glasses. “Oh. Wedding present.”

Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, she sits down on top of the comforter, and cautiously opens the box. Her eyes fall on a gorgeously dainty bracelet with a small diamond affixed to a silver chain.

“I don’t know what to say,” Scully finally admits. Mulder smiles, wordlessly leaning forward to close the distance between them. His kiss finally comes with soft lips and firm resolve.

A keen ear kept on the exchange occurring in the hallway, Scully hears the malice in “let her die with dignity,” the intense intent to guilt. Since childhood, Bill has been masterful at identifying a scapegoat.

Appearing at her bedside, Scully takes her brother’s hand. It has been quite some time since they were together in person and she is aware she should focus on the grand gesture of his presence. But they have always sparred on injustice and she just witnessed him as the purveyor.

“I don’t want you to talk to him like that,” she tells him.

It takes almost nothing to generate a quarrel between the two of them. “You keep defending him, Dana, and I don’t see what there is about him to protect,” Bill argues. “You wouldn’t even be in this situation if...”

“Fox has been very helpful,” Maggie interrupts. Their mother is well versed in deescalating the disputes of Dana and Bill; the oil and water of the Scully children. “Bill, sit down and be civil.”

Where Mulder pushes, Bill pulls, and Dana is left somewhere in the middle. Something akin to a jealous feud brews between the two men in her life; each vying for the role of ultimate fixer. It is only when Mulder orchestrates the impossible that her brother cannot deny the miracle.

Most conversations were plans for a comfortable end or perhaps a prolonged, managed experience. The concept of remission, a life without the dark cloud of cancer, was a possibility never even considered.

The day of her discharge finally arrives after a final weeklong observation of her progress, and Mulder, as a now regular fixture of the post-critical care ward, shows up to her room early as usual. He drops a bag on her empty hospital bed. “I brought you some clothes from your apartment,” Mulder informs her. “Unfortunately I couldn’t find anything as uniquely versatile as the hospital gown.”

“I appreciate the effort,” she smiles, ripping open the plastic bag.

Scully can feel an awkwardness emanating from him with three feet between them. She is taking stock of the items he provided when he finally speaks, “Listen, I can be out--”

With a week to discuss the topic, neither of them were brave enough to allow it. The last thing Scully wants Mulder to believe is she married him to take advantage of a kindness he extended to her. It was done with such a different outcome in mind; a selfless act with an outcome to be bathed in heartache.

Now, there is no plan on how to approach where things will go from here. Scully didn’t ever think she would be in a position to have to consider it.

At the very least, they deserve time to enjoy a lack of this particular impending doom.

“Should we get dinner tonight?”

If there is anything they deserve more of, it is time.

It is health.

It is stability.

#x files #xf fic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr

67 notes · View notes

voltagesmutter · 4 years

Text

Bidders - Pregnancy Scare Head-Cannon [Fluff]

Head-cannon where the bidders and OC face a pregnancy scare.

*All happy, nothing dark or upsetting*

Cute fluff as well.

Eisuke:

You held your lower stomach, your cramps were getting worse as the days went on.

“What are you moping for now?” Eisuke muttered from his desk, not looking up from his documents.

“My cramps are bad, my boobs are sore and my back hurts,” You whined before adjusting yourself on the sofa unable to get comfortable. You sighed angrily and stood up to see Eisuke staring at you.

“What?” You asked, to no reply.

“Eisuke what?” You said again, walking towards his desk. He had just gone to say something when the doors burst open.

“Boss, we got a problem,” Soryu came bursting in. Eisuke stood straight up, great he took interest in that but no you and your whiney issues. Eisuke looked at you then Soryu.

“Go, it's fine, I’m gonna go and have a nap,” You replied. Eisuke gave your hands a squeeze before leaving with Soryu. You got your hot water bottle and filled it up before pressing it to your stomach, it felt like someone was squeezing it and tying it into knots. You only ever got stomach cramps on your period, but thinking about it you should be on now, but you wasn’t… Shit, shit you thought before running into your room. You grabbed your box where you kept your pills and scanned over them; you hadn’t missed a single one! You checked your calendar on your phone, you were a week late, oh shit.

When Eisuke returned home that night he was concerned seeing you was still up.

“(Y/N)?” He asked, entering your room and seeing you sat on the floor against your bed, slight tears in your eyes. You had debated for hours whether to tell him and the conflicting thoughts sent you down a spiral of negative thoughts.

“(Y/N) what's wrong? Did someone hurt you?” He asked, rushing to your side and gently holding your face. You shook your head before taking a deep breath.

“I’m late,” You whispered. He looked confused.

“I know you are, your normally asleep by now” He responded. God damn for a billionaire sometimes he had no common sense.

“Eisuke, I’m late,” You retried, emphasising late and it finally clicked.

“Ohmygod, do you? Do you think you're pregnant?” He asked, one hand reaching down to hold your stomach.

“I… I don’t know, I’ve taken my pill everyday but I mean it’s not 100% effective,” You say with a sigh. You loved Eisuke but being pregnant wasn’t a great time, you were getting married in 6 months, you didn’t want to walk down the aisle heavily pregnant in front of your family and Eisukes business partners.

“Are you not happy,” He said, keeping his hand on your stomach and looking up into your eyes. His gaze melt your heart and anxiety melt away, did he want to start a family? “Eisuke, I cant wait to have children with you, many hopefully, but I don’t want to be pregnant at our wedding, could you imagine what people would say about me…” You whisper. He pulled you in tightly into his chest and held you.

“I love you and that's all that matters, if we are pregnant we’ll move the wedding forward, hell I’ll marry you tomorrow night,” He said pressing kisses against your hair and you immediately relax into his arms. Hearing the words ‘we’ showed you that you was in this together and that was all you needed.

“Besides, it would show everyone even more than your mine,” He said, you knew there was a smirk on his face, causing you to chuckle. He somehow managed to wipe all your fears away and make you feel safe.

He had booked for you to see his good friend Luke who was a doctor first thing in the morning, cancelling all his appointments to be with you.

“I’m really sorry, but you are just late, you're not pregnant,” Luke says and you feel Eisuke hand tighten over yours. You wasn’t sad, there was nothing there to be sad over, it was just a scare.

“Are you under any stress?” Luke asks, going over his forms.

“I mean we’re planning the wedding, I’ve been helping Eisuke with some work as well, um I mainly think its the wedding,” You respond.

“You're stressed about the wedding, why didn’t you say anything?” Eisuke said, turning to you.

“Its… It’s just that it’s changed so much, I know you are who you are which is why we need the big event, but it’s like numbers have doubling all the time, we’ve invited so many people, I don’t even know who most are them are thats all, it’s fine though, honestly,” You say with a smile and squeeze his hand.

“But everything's good right, this is like normal?” You ask, turning to Luke.

“Yes, everythings in perfect order, you just need to focus less on stressing yourself out and your body will sort its self out,” Luke responded, Eisuke was silent. The only words he spoke was to thank Luke for his time.

“Eisuke, talk to me, I know you're disappointed but we have our future to create the most beautiful children,” You say as you step out onto the street.

“Why didn’t you tell me the wedding was stressing you out…” He asks, turning to you. You sighed a little.

“It’s just, it feels like it's becoming less about us and more about ‘Mr.Ichinomiya finally settling down’, you know I love you and respect your work but it’s feeling more like an event than our wedding, please don’t be mad at me I know how expensive this has all been,” You finally let out, not able to look at him.

“I’m not mad at you! I’m upset you never told me, your about to become my wife, you was more worried about upsetting me than what you wanted, your the most kindest and perfect woman, I hope you know that,” He said, pressing a kiss to your wrists and making you sob a little at his words. It wasn’t often that Eisuke shared his feelings so when did he always made you emotional.

“Let's keep the big wedding event, but let's get married, just us and those close to us, or whatever you want, we will do whatever makes you happy,” He said softly, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that for me?” You manage through light tears.

“I’d do anything for you, besides the faster we’re married the faster we can get trying for our family,” He says with his trademark smirk. That smirk that made you fall in love with him.

“I think we might be good at the whole trying to make a baby,” You giggle as he wraps his arms around you.

“Oh trust me we’re going to be practising everyday before were married and everyday afterwards,” He smirked, placing a small kiss on your lips.

Soryu:

“(Y/N) are you okay?” Soryu asks with a concerned tone as he knocks on the bathroom door. You froze in fear, you didn’t expect him to be home, he had literally left for work.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” You managed, you had been throwing up for the past couple of mornings whilst Soryu had been at work. You had been sitting on the sofa with Eisuke before you felt a wave of nausea fall over you and you bolted for your bathroom and emptied your stomach. This ended up happening for more than a week, you had made the bidders swear they wouldn’t tell Soryu out of fear how he would react. He was extremely protective and would make a bigger deal out of it then it was. You were already anxious of it and didn’t need the added stress on top of it. You had been researching it and the first thing that appeared was ‘pregnancy’ and it almost sent you into overdrive. You were on the pill, you couldn’t be pregnant, you took it everyday exactly at the right time!

“(Y/N), please let me in,” He said, his voice filled with worry. You knew if you didn’t let him in, he would get the spare key from Eisuke or maintenance, so it was easier to just let him in now.

“I’m fine really its ju-,” You said opening the door before the nausea hit again and you flung yourself quickly over the toilet, spewing your guts up.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Soryu calmly reassured you, rubbing your back gently.

“Ugh god I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see me like this,” You whined, standing up and washing your face.

“So how long has been this been happening, truthfully,” He asks, gently holding your shoulders.

“Just over a week,” You say, refusing to look at him. He gently took your face into his hands and looks at you.

“Do you-” He starts, you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“I don't know,” You interrupted him. You couldn’t help but shake a little, you were scared what if it was true? How would Soryu react? Would he stay with you? You loved him deeply and you knew he loved you back but in all honesty you didn’t know how he would react with a baby involved, you weren't married or even engaged. What if he didn’t want to be with you anymore? You didn’t know if you even wanted a baby yet, your writing career had finally taken off and a baby, you’d lose all you'd worked for.

“(Y/N), breath, breath!” Soryu said, his face pressed against your as he gripped your shoulders. Lost in your thoughts of panic, you forgot to breathe and caused Soryu to panic.

“Soryu, I, I’m scared,” You finally said after a moment of silence, your eyes filled with tears. He pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey, hey come, don’t get yourself worked up, we’ll… we’ll get a test and go from there,” He reassures you, stroking your hair as you gently cry into his chest. You would love to carry and bear Soryu’s children, but not right now, there's too much going on in both of your lives to have time for a child. You take a deep breath and go into one of your wardrobe draws, you reach into the back and pull out a small box.

“I always keep one, incase of an emergency,” You say with a swallow, showing Soryu the pregnancy test who looked just as frightened as you felt.

“Okay, I don't know how they work, what do we do?” He asks as he scratches the back of his neck.

“I, I have to pee on it,” You say, your cheeks flushing and Soryu chuckles slightly, the first time you’d seen him smile through this whole situation.

“Okay, you do that, I’ll wait here and we see the results together?” He responds and cups his hands over yours. You nod slowly before heading into the bathroom. Okay, here we go you think before holding the stick between your legs. A minute later you emerge from the bathroom.

“It needs three minutes before we know,” You say, too anxious to sit and you pace in front of the bed.

“I want you to know, whatever happens I am here with you, you are not alone,” He says, taking your hands and pressing a gentle kiss to them.

“Soryu, I, I love you so much, but I’m only 22, my careers it's only just starting I-... I’m not ready to be a mom,” You manage before collapsing against the wall, tears streaming down your face. Soryu leans down and comforts you.

“Whatever happens we're in this together, I love you so much, just calm down and we see what it says first,” His voice was calm and he stroked his thumbs over yours. He helped you to regulate your breathing before the timer went off on your phone. You both looked at each other and you took a deep breath before stepping into the bathroom.

“Its… It’s negative,” You say with a heavy sigh of relief, you even felt Soryu let out a sigh behind you.

“We have our whole lives ahead of us to worry about making and having babies, it’s okay you don’t want children now, I don't think it's wise with how hot everything at the Ice Dragons is, I couldn’t risk anything happening to you or our family,” He says, holding you tight and placing a kiss to your forehead. His reassuring words made you feel better, you were beyond worried he would be angry at you for not wanting children yet but it was fairly obvious he felt the same that it wasn’t the time.

“One day you’ll be called Mrs. Oh, we’ll have our own house, you’ll have a successful writing career and I’ll hopefully be out of the mafia business and two beautiful children, maybe a boy and a girl and it will be the right time,” He says as he holds you tight, his words melting your heart.

“You seem to have everything planned out,” You giggle, turning to face him giving him a smile.

“I see my future everyday when I look into your eyes,” He softly replied, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

Soryu made you go to the doctors the following day to find out what was happening, it turned out you were having a reaction to some new products that had been brought in the penthouse shopping. All your anxiety faded away about your little scare, you knew whatever happened in the future you were safe and loved with Soryu.

Mamoru: “But we’ve used protection, you’ve been taking your pill right kid?” Mamoru asked, he was pacing up down the living room of the penthouse.

“No, no I though one day, fuck it lets get pregnant for laughs and stopped taking it,” You hissed with sarcasm. You leaned over the sofa and took a cigarette placing it in your mouth. Mamoru watched you and pounced on you knocking it out of your mouth.

“You can’t smoke if you're pregnant!” He yelled.

“Who’s pregnant?” Eisuke asked, him and the other bidders came into the room after hearing the yelling. Their eyes settled on you.

“Ohmygod, I’m going to be an uncle!” Baba yelled with excitement. This is exactly what you didn’t want.

“I’m not pregnant, I’m just late!” You yelled and stood up, storming off in anger.

You were late on your period, you had started a new contraceptive pill two months ago and hadn’t had a period since. You were fretting about it, thoughts building up, you were extremely worried how your boyfriend Mamoru would react. You spent all day deciding whether to tell him or not, but in the end you felt it was best, you were beyond anxious keeping this to yourself and needed his support. But his reaction wasn’t what you expected.

“Come on kid don’t be silly,” Was his response. Come on kid, rang through your ears. Kid? You might be pregnant and he’s calling you kid.

“Mamoru this is serious! I’m late,” You managed but the detective walked out of your bedroom. You followed him, how was not he responding to you.

“Mamoru?” You cried.

“Look it's just a shock kid, I didn’t expect this when I come home from work,” He mumbled.

“And how do you think I feel? I’m petrified, I have no idea what is happening and I’m scared, you're not exactly helping,” You argued back, sitting on the sofa. That was when he then made his statement about ensuring you took your pill.

You slid down your bedroom, pushing your hands against your head and finally the tears began to stream down your face. You were frightened, scared and in all honesty felt alone. Remembering when you had been to the doctors to change your pill he gave you a number to ring if you had any questions or queries, it was only 6 o’clock at night, it wouldn’t hurt to ring. You locked the bedroom door, you didn’t want to see Mamoru's face right now.

“Hello?” A voice said as the phone picked up.

“Doctor Foster? Hi, its Eisuke’s friend (Y/N), I seen you two months ago about changing my pill?” You blurted out. You idiot, you thought, just hi its (Y/N) was all you needed to say.

“Ah yes, I remember, what can I help you with?”.

“I just wanted to ask, since I’ve started it I’ve not a period, this is the second one I’ve actually missed and I guess I’m just concerned,”.

There was a silence, oh god.

“Yeah, your taking (Made up pill name) right? That’s completely normal, the actual pill stops your periods so you won’t get them full stop, I thought you had been made clear of that?”. You let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“No… no this is the first I’ve heard of it but thats really reassuring, thank you, thank you so much, I feel like a right tit now, I’m so sorry for disturbing you,”.

“It’s fine, I’d rather you ring me then worry that pretty head of yours,”.

“Thanks Doctor Foster,”. You click end on the call and fall backwards onto the bed, you feel a ton of weight being lifted. You loved Mamoru, but neither one of you were ready to be parents yet, he was inline for a really big promotion at work and would mean more time away. How could you raise a child together if he was hardly here? You both had never spoke about the future and your plans, you just knew you were in love and enjoying every moment together.

“(Y/N)?” Mamoru said quietly and tried to open the door but not realising it was locked and walked straight into it. You burst into fits of giggles and unlocked the door. Mamoru stood here, before pressing his hands to your stomach and dropping to your knees.

“Mamoru-” You started but was cut off.

“I’m with you every step, we’ll get it all booked and sorted at the doctors, we’ll do this properly. We’ll get married as well, as soon as possible, I’ll find a different job, a better paying one where I can be here more for you and the baby. I am here for every step, your not alone, you don’t need to be scared because you have me,” He says and presses a small kiss to your stomach, it was all too much and you begin to cry.

“I’m not late, I just rang Doctor Foster, it's the actual part of the pill, I won’t have periods anymore,” You respond before turning your back and walking back into the room.

“Mamoru your the kindest, sweetest man, and I’m so grateful for everything you said but I don’t want you to marry me because we got into a situation, I want you to be with me and marry me because you love me,” You say with tears running down your face. His lack of response worried you and you turned around. There he was in front of you on one knee with a ring.

“I want to marry you, I want to spend everyday with you for the rest of my life, I want to look forward to creating a family with you, (Y/N) I love you, will you marry me?” He says, taking your left hand. You found it hard to breath.

“You really want to get married?” You manage it, coming out with a whisper.

“Of course I do darlin, I’ve wanted to ask you this since we first met,” He responds, gently squeezing your hand.

“Yes, ohmygod yes,” You cry with words and physically. Mamoru smiled and placed the ring on your finger before picking you up in his arms and twirling around.

“I love you sweetheart, so much, I can’t wait for our future to begin our family,” He says, pressing a kiss to your lips.

Baba:

“It split,”.

“Baba what do you mean it split,”.

“Like it’s split look,” Your fiancee said, rolling off the condom and waving it in your face.

“Mitsu! Please be serious for a minute, it split now or when you know inside,” You said with a blush on your cheeks. Mitsunari chuckled slightly, how was he not taking this serious.

“Princess I’m not sure, I mean it looks like everything is in there,” He said, holding it up to the light and tilting his head.

“Stop! That's seriously gross,” You gagged slightly turning your head, you couldn’t watch it.

“Baba, you know I stopped taking the pill, this is serious, we can’t just treat this casually,” You add.

“Clearly we fuck too rough to be using these,” He says back with a slightly grin of proudness on his lips. He was seriously infuriating at times, how was he so calm over this.

“Hey come on, it’s fine, whatever happens you know we will get through this together, come on just don’t overthink it,” He said, giving you a gentle kiss.

Don't overthink it. Possibly the worst thing he could have said to you, you were a nightmare for over thinking. It was roughly 8 weeks later and you had completely forgotten all about your ripped accident until it was 3 days into your period and you were late. You’d been throwing up the last few mornings like clockwork, it was becoming a worrying thing for you.

“Princess, are you okay?” Baba asked, getting out of bed to come to your side.

“Don't touch me, please I feel disgusting,” You pleaded and he respected your distance going to the kitchen to get you some water. Whilst you were busy throwing up, Baba was chatting with the other bidders about your state.

“I just, I don’t know what's wrong, she's throwing up,” Baba said.

“Well, is she late?” Ota asked. Baba looked at him hugely confused.

“She’s in the bathroom, I don’t think she’s going anywhere” He chuckled. The other bidders swapped a concerned exchange.

“No you idiot, is she, you late, late,” Mamoru said. Baba looked at the bidders before his pupils dilated as the realisation kicked in.

“I mean there was an incident a few weeks ago when the condom split, I don’t know if it happened when pulling out or not,” He said so casually, the other bidders making noises in disgust at his comment.

“I think you should take her to Luke, get a check up, you might become a dad old man,” Eisuke smirked.

“I did read in my horoscope, there would be big changes coming my way soon, may this is it?” He said a twinkle in his eye.

You were furious he had told the bidders about what happened, you were stressed enough about the situation, you didn’t need them adding to it.

“I just you know, it kinda slipped it out, anyway it’s nice for them to know they all be uncles!” Baba said cheerfully in the waiting room to see Luke Foster.

“Hunny, I know but don’t you think it’s kinda private right now like we don’t know what’s happening, I just don’t need the pressure of this on top of everything,” You say and squeeze his hand.

“I’m just excited you know, there might be a baby in you,” He says with a grin.

You knew how much he wanted to be a dad and that was no issue but it was only a few weeks ago he was on a mission that went wrong and was almost caught. If it wasn’t for Mamoru, he would definitely be in jail and it frightened you. What would happen if you was pregnant and he got caught on a mission, leaving you and the baby alone? It petrified you to your core.

“Mitsu, (Y/N), come in,” Foster said with a smile and the two of you went into his office. Luke took some bloods and was going to examine you cervix, Baba holding your hand through every step.

“Right, Miss (Y/N) you’ve recently started taking Zeno (made up drug) is that correct?” He asked, Baba looked at you confused and you bit your lip nodding.

“Zeno? What’s Zeno?” Baba asked looking at you confused.

“It’s a blood pressure drug, it lowers the blood pressure, your fiancée has been experiencing high blood pressure due to her contraceptive pill, that’s why she was taken off it,” Foster says, examining your notes.

“You said it was because you didn’t want to take it anymore,” Baba said stroking your face.

“I didn’t want to tell you, I knew you’d worry,” You giving him a sweet smile.

“That will explain the vomiting, it takes roughly 8 weeks to enter your system properly hence the vomiting and your period will be also be due to your blood pressure, it won’t be regular for a few more weeks as your body adjusts to the medication, just give it time and it will settle,” Luke adds, he turned to type on his screen.

“So, so she’s not pregnant?” Mitsunari asked, you could hear the loss of hope in his voice.

“Unfortunately not and I don’t recommend getting pregnant at this time, it won’t do you any good Miss (Y/N), I say give it 6 months let your body regulate and then try but everything’s in perfect condition there’s no signs of concern,” Luke finished.

You looked at Baba, you knew he was so excited.

“Come on, it’s all good, we have the wedding soon and then we can start officially trying,” You say wrapping your arms around him in the elevator.

“I just, I’m scared, what if it takes years to get you pregnant and then I’ll be old, I don’t want to be at risk of not being able to give you a family,” He says, you could tears in his voice.

“Mitsunari! You can run laps around those other bidders! And we try, and try, we try properly none of this splitting protection, we try all day everyday if we have too, I know you won’t complain! And if it doesn’t happen then we look into other options but that’s not for years from now, let’s just focus on the wedding and like Foster said in 6 months we can start trying to create additions for our family,” You say sweetly, pressing your chest against his back and holding him tightly. He turns and wraps his arms around you.

“How did I get so lucky to find the most perfect woman in the world?” He chuckles, placing a kiss to your hair.

Ota:

“Don’t call me Koro!” You snapped angrily at Ota. He had gotten on your last nerve and you couldn’t help but tell aggressively at him. Your mood swings off lately had become unpredictable and the littlest of things were setting you off. You stormed out the room.

“Jesus, what did you do Ota?” Soryu asked, looking up from the document he was reading.

“Who knows, it’s that time of month, she’s just constantly flipping and changing her moods,” Ota mumbled, he knew better than to follow you and anger you more, instead he’d let you calm down.

You had just gotten out the shower and pulled on your pyjamas when Ota came waltzing in.

“You’ve really upset your master today, you need to make it up to him,” He smirks and nods down guesting for you to please him with your mouth.

“Not happening,” You snapped ignoring him, you wasn’t talking to him. He had done nothing wrong, you was just pissed off.

“Koro are you ignoring your masters commands,” He growls and stalks over to you, before assaulting your neck with kisses.

“Ota stop it! I am not in the mood!” You yelled and pushed him back off you. You turned and broke down into tears, Ota quickly scooping you into his arms and allowing you to be embraced by him.

“Hey, it’s okays what’s up? I’m sorry I know it’s that time and your confidence drops but I still love you and think you are just as sexy as any other day,” He silently whispers as he strokes your hair.

“But I’m not on, I-I’m late,” You sobbed, finally revealing to him the cause of your constant mood flips.

“Y-your late? As in late? As in how late?” He quickly asks, holding you tight.

“A couple of days, I don't understand we’ve been using protection,”. You hear Ota gulp slightly.

“Ota? You have been wearing protection right…?” You ask, looking up to his face which was flustered.

“Well, there… there was one time, we didn’t,”.

“You what!”.

“It was that night you came to the studio and we had did it in the cupboard, I didn’t have anything on me and everything moved so fast!” He said and you felt your heart racing.

“Ota! Why didn’t you tell me!” You cried.

“You can’t just do that expect everything to be fine!”.

“I-I pulled out, I swear! Would a baby really be so bad?” He asked.

“Be so bad? Ota, we’re kids, we share a room in Eisukes penthouse, could you imagine bringing a child here,” You said to him.

“I think bringing a baby to a couple who love each other isn't all bad…”He mumbles and brushes your hair out of your face. You can’t help but smile at him, he was love of your life.

“And if you know, this turns out to be something more than just being late then we deal with it one step at a time,”.

“For someone so young, you're so sensible at times,” You say and press a kiss to his lips.

Ota had a gallery exhibition the next day which would run for a few nights. You agreed to wait until he was finished and if you were still late you’d take a test. On the final day of his exhibition you woke up, your stomach in knots. You looked down and saw blood staining your pyjamas and bed sheets, oh thank god. You rushed to the bathroom, you finally got your period.

“Ota?”

“Koro, I’m a little busy sweetie is everything okay?”.

“I got my period,”.

“You did?”.

“Yeah,”.

“Thats… thats good, I need to go. I'll see you when I’m home,” and with that he put the phone down. You could hear the disappointment slightly in his voice. You loved him, you really did but you knew deep down it wasn’t time for you to start a family. You waited anxiously for him to come home.

“Koro?” He said quietly as he crept into the bedroom, it was not long after minute.

“Hey, your home, I thought you’d be earlier than this…” You respond, sitting up in bed. Ota sat at the end next to your feet.

“Ota, I know you think a baby would be great, and it will be but right now it’s not right, we couldn’t bring a baby into Eisukes home, he can barely cope with Baba and you!” You say and he chuckles softly.

“I love you, I really do, I’m just so excited for our future and I kinda skipped ahead. I want to enjoy you all to myself Koro before we have a family, which is why…” He says, crawling up to you and place some documents in your hand. You scan over them.

“Apartment listings…?” You say.

“I want us to live together in Koro, have our own space,”.

“Oh Ota, I- of course oh this is so exciting,” You squeal with excitement. He leans over you and presses a kiss to you.

“I’m so excited to start our future together,”.

85 notes · View notes

phykios · 3 years

Text

the marble king, part 8 [read on ao3] [rated M for adult situations]

Percy wakes to the feeling of a blonde curl in his mouth, and though the taste is unpleasant, he still smiles.

Spitting it out of his mouth, he turns on his side to better face his wife, and grasps at her, but not before pausing to rub at her glowing belly. "Good morning, my love," he says, voice still rough with sleep.

Softly, serenely, she flutters her eyes open, revealing the stunning stormcloud which he so adores. "Good morning, my husband," Annabeth replies, her returning smile, while small, still bright enough to light up the entire North on its own, the Bifrost distilled in her joy.

Though he has just woken up, he feels a bit restless, but the threat of the freezing air outside of the warm blankets stops him from rising from his bed. Additionally, Annabeth has slung her arm around his side and pulled him close, and he cannot bear to be parted from her. Oh, how he loves the feeling of his wife laying next to him.

The blankets securely wrapped around him, he turns further into her, leaning over and kissing her, long and hard and deep as possible.

"Darling," she murmurs against his lips, "you know I am already with child, yes? You cannot make me pregnant again at the moment."

"Oh, I am aware," he says, caressing the swell of her stomach. "I can imagine a hundred reasons to kiss you," he kisses her lips, "to touch you," he traces the bones of her clavicle, enjoying as she shivers in response, "to make love to you, that have nothing to do with making children."

She giggles, a sweet, chiming bell, a sound which puts him in mind of the carefree girl she was never able to be, but one that he dreamed they have created together.

Out of the warmth, he reaches up his hand, brushing her hair out of her face. Normally covered, as is appropriate of a woman wed, her hair lies wild against her pillow. He strokes the soft locks and imagines their child, their little girl, all blonde curls and brilliance.

"What is on your mind, phykios ?" Anja asks.

"You," he says. "Our child. Our life. How happy I am, and how much I love you, how much I love this."

"Even in the frozen wasteland of Svealand?" she teases, her lips curling.

"Even here," he promises. "Anywhere you are, that is where I wish to be."

However, rather than reward him with another kiss, as is her wont, she frowns. "Do you smell that?"

"It is merely the fire," he comments, though when he casts a glance towards the hearth, he sees that it is cold and empty. How strange; typically one of the servants will come in and make it up each morning before they awake.

He strains his ears, attempting to catch the subtle sounds of the house as it wakes up around them. The floor creaks, the walls shift, and everything feels foggy, as though their bed has somehow sailed out into the morning sea. It all seems so close, closer than it should be, closed off in his own world with Anja.

And what is that blasted scratching?

He awoke with a start, sitting up just in time to see the blaze of the fire going up.

The maid, a woman a few years younger than him with bright, bright hair, jumped as he moved, startled.

She murmured something that he did not quite understand, but recognized as an apology. "It is alright," he said as best he could manage, the syllables of Swedish not fitting so well inside of his mouth. Alejandra had laughed at his accent the other day, but at least she was kind enough to attempt to teach him some of this strange northern tongue so he could not be so abominably rude. Annabeth--Ana Zab--Anja Elisab--whoever--had either been unable or unwilling to spare the time to assist him, and nor had her father. Alejandra was then the only other person in the manor with whom he shared a language.

He had thought it to be a trio of Latin speakers; himself, Lord Magnus' wife Doña Alejandra, and her brother, the similarly named Don Alejandro, who had both studied Latin as youths, and if their Latin failed them, Spanish itself was not so different from Italian that the two could not understand each other when spoken slowly. Percy had been terribly embarrassed that it had taken him near on six weeks in the household to put together the fact that Alejandra and Alejandro were, in fact, the same person, a Norse demigod with shapeshifting powers that could rival even Franko's. As she had explained it to him, at times she lived as a woman, and at others he lived as a man, but still remained the same person within, and Magnus not only knew, but considered it no significant difficulty. For Percy, who had seen a cow with the tail of a fish, this was not so strange.

The maid scurried away, leaving the fire to try its best to warm the frigid room.

It was freezing. It was always freezing here.

Percy, a man of the warm middle sea, was decidedly not pleased by this constant chill.

His room was well appointed, the best guest room in the manor--a Swedish monarch, Kristoffer av Bayern , himself had once slept here, as Fredrik had told him. A servant came in to tend the fire, another came in to clean. It was, short of a god's palace, perhaps the most luxurious place he had ever rested his head. Fredrik and Magnus graciously provided him with warm clothing, finer than anything he'd left behind in Constantinople. Despite the winter, food was plentiful, and he joined the noble family for every meal.

One would argue that, as an honored guest in a noble household, his every comfort seen to, surely that would have made for a happier time than trekking through the Labyrinth, or facing a Cyclops, or holding the sky, no? And yet, he was not sure if he'd ever been more miserable in his life.

He was cold and lonely and cold. He dressed as warmly as he could, in several more layers than anyone else, and still he shivered. Fredrik spoke Greek, but he had much to attend to around the manor, and spent the bulk of his free time reacquainting his daughter with the goings-on and politics of the North.

At least Annabeth was settling in well. It was hard to deny how well she fit the bitter climate. She looked beautiful against the snow and the dark wood, wrapped in fine furs. Her cheeks flushed in the cold, her blonde curls sneaking out below caps and shawls, her pale skin glowing in the warm firelight, all lovely.

She no longer resembled the legendary Theotokos, but she seemed happier than she had been in months.

Dressed in lovely garments, rich fabrics of green and red and blue, she walked through the halls of her family with her head held high, as though it were her very own palace. She was a noble lady, come home after a long, torturous absence. A princess.

It suited her.

Annabeth would have made a wonderful lady of the house--shoring up the family and all that. The marital politics of aristocrats somewhat escaped him, but it seemed the sort of thing that they would do, marrying your beautiful, intelligent cousin in order to keep your lands and titles more firmly within the family.

He knew that Magnus loved his wife, and that marrying a foreign woman had caused some local controversy, even without the general knowledge of Alejandra's alternate days as Alejandro. She had told him herself, too, that just as Percy and Annabeth had gone on a great many adventures together, so had Magnus and his partner, along that rainbow bridge that Percy could only barely see. But when he saw the cousins together, so alike in their appearance, so clearly happy to be reunited, Percy could not help but wonder if Magnus regretted his marriage at all.

Percy almost felt guilty to think of it, and not only because Alejandra was his only true friend he had here. He would never dream of disrupting their marriage. But he did not know how anyone, presented with the missed opportunity of Annabeth, could not regret his choices.

Lukas had died for that regret.

He wondered what his own regret would be, once he left this place, once he left Annabeth.

Shivering as he left his very comfortable bed, he decided to take one of the rugs with him, keeping it wrapped around him as he got dressed for the day as he did each day, feeling foolish with every layer he added. His daily routines were sparse, spending his days puttering round the manor, alternately avoiding and being avoided by the denizens of the house. He could not even go down to the lake and sit by the water, as it was simply far too cold. At the very least, none of the family had made a move to have him removed; on the contrary, he'd been informed that, in the winter, such a trip could prove to be fatal. But one day Spring would return, and he would not stay in the best guest bedroom of Annabeth's cousin's house forever.

He shuddered again as he stepped into the hall. Malaka , but he hated it here. But Annabeth was here, and he found he did not wish to be anywhere else.

It had been well over two months by now, and Percy at least knew his way to the dining hall, where the mid-day meal was served each day. As he set off, he tried to time his shivers to only when he was alone, when no other member of the household, born and bred in this bitter, bitter cold, could judge the strange foreign man who had, perhaps, outstayed his welcome.

Annabeth and Magnus were already seated at the table when he arrived, and she cast him a smile as he entered and sat down beside her. He nodded, smiling in return, feeling warm from the inside out.

Then the cousins resumed their conversation, which was quite beyond his comprehension.

Frowning, Percy took some salted fish onto his plate, and ate in silence, as he had no other option.

Alejandro arrived a few minutes after Percy, a man today, judging by his clothing and his own statement. At the very least, he had the good manners to speak to Percy over his bread.

"You are of the Eastern rites, yes?" he was saying. "Soon you shall experience a proper Catholic Christmas."

"It is much too early for Christmas, is it not?" Percy asked, frowning. Had he missed the turning of the year already? He had not thought he was so unaware of the passage of time that he had missed December entirely.

Annabeth and Magnus both frowned at them as though they spoke in secret code, as Annabeth's Latin was less than passable, and Magnus' nonexistent. Given that everyone around Percy was constantly speaking a tongue he could not understand, he did not find himself with much sympathy to spare.

"St. Lucy's feast is but three days away," Alejandra said, "and then the Christmas month shall begin."

At Percy's confused expression, he laughed; it was not exactly kind, but Percy had come to learn that the relentless teasing was how Alejandro demonstrated friendship.

He turned to Magnus, perhaps translating for his husband, and Annabeth responded in Swedish, her face contemplative. Then Alejandro said something presumably quite amusing, for they all burst into peals of laughter. Annabeth's laugh was musical, as always, bright and sparkling as a bell.

He wished he knew what the joke had been.

Shoving a slice of bread in his mouth, he prayed that it would hide the disappointment on his face from being cut out again.

"Anja," Alejandro explained, "had mentioned that the last time she had been present for St. Lucy's day, she had dressed up as the saint herself--I then volunteered to assume the role of a small, blonde girl, if no other one could be located in time."

Percy smiled, partly in thanks, but it was not the same. He had no idea what St. Lucy's day was supposed to involve, nor why Annabeth had costumed herself so, nor how it was somehow already time for Christmas--and he was not about to ask his present company.

After the meal, he and Alejandro went down to the manor's stables, as they often did. "You know," he said, as they walked across the frozen ground, "I have a half-brother who is a horse."

"I as well," Percy replied. "Two, actually, I believe."

Small talk for demigods was always something of a unique experience, and this cross-pantheon relation-building was particularly interesting. Loki could also cause earthquakes, as Percy discovered. He was glad he had found a kindred spirit, even all the way up here.

The horses were quite nice, but Percy was distracted somewhat by a group of young stablehands who simultaneously politely ignored them, while hanging on their every word and gesture from around the corners.

"What game do you think they are playing?" asked Percy absently, though whether to the horses or to Alejandro, he was not sure.

"They are watching you, my friend," Alejandro said. "They are all desperate for a glimpse, for a juicy slice of gossip to share with their friends."

Percy made a face. "Whatever for? I am not that interesting."

Laughing, Alejandro clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, you've arrived from far away, and that is plenty interesting on its own. When I arrived with Magnus, I was stared at and gawked over for months, and no one believed I was the heir to a fallen empire."

It took Percy several moments to fully understand the extent of Alejandro's implication.

"Do people truly believe that I have some claim to the throne of Constantinople?" Such a fantasy was--laughable, at very best. "Everyone thinks so?"

"No, not everyone," Alejandro grinned. "I know perfectly well that, son of a god or not, the heir apparent of an empire could not have escaped half as well as you did." Then he paused, looking Percy up and down in a manner that felt not entirely unlike an appraisal. "But merely a minor prince, well..." Alejandro trailed off, raising an eyebrow in question.

Ruthlessly he quashed the bubbling, hysterical laughter that threatened its way up from his stomach. Someone as cunning and well-traveled as Alejandro, someone who'd spent so much time with him, thought him to be a porphyrogenitus? "That's ridiculous," he said, for it was one of the silliest things he had ever heard.

Alejandro's face fell. "No, do not say such things," he complained. "I so wanted to be right. Magnus had insisted you were merely a boring old nobleman, and I would hate to lose the bet."

Percy swallowed, suddenly overcome with anxiety over what Annabeth may have told her family about him. They knew he was a demigod of the Hellenes, of course, but perhaps she had obscured certain facts about his mortal life.

No, not perhaps. Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter, whose family had played host to the king of Sweden in their ancient manor, she could not imply that her traveling companion was only a fisherman turned foot soldier in a failed army. What might that say about her, or her reputation?

"Well, I would hate to cause marital strife by proving anyone correct," he said with a painful smile, holding his tongue. Surely, if Annabeth had chosen not to share such information, she had had a reason, and he would not make her out to be a liar, not to her own family.

Eventually, he was able to get a straight answer regarding the Christmas season. The western Christians celebrated the birth of their god much, much earlier than those in the East, and in the cold, dark winters of Svealand, they had an additional holiday, that of the festival of light, held on December 13th, the Feast of St. Lucy that had been discussed earlier.

Alejandra stood next to her husband, smiling wistfully at the stream of little girls who walked past, garlands and candles on their heads. Percy could imagine, in his mind's eye, a little Annabeth leading the procession, blonde curls and steel eyes, so smart, so determined to seek the life that she wanted for herself. One day, perhaps sooner rather than later, her own daughter might join in the parade--another little blonde girl. A perfect child.

And Percy wanted...

No. No, he would not think on that. Already he was a shameful secret of his hostess. What would she think of him, if she knew that he dreamt of fathering her children? He could not risk her ire; should she order him to leave, he had nowhere else to go.

The lights streamed on past him, and Percy wished desperately for spring.

Christmas proved to be unremarkable, though the illicit Yule, celebrated in highest secrecy by Annabeth's family, was far more intimate. This holiday honored Odin, a godly king of the same rank and power and a little of the same personality as Zeus, but who apparently got on considerably better with Magnus and Alejandra than the lord of Olympus had with any of his mortal nieces and nephews.

He spent very little time with Annabeth these days, save for a few hours on the solstice, where they had sat together in an alcove, out of the way of the rest of the house, and did not discuss the winter council of the gods.

Neither did Percy have much taste for a Saturnalia, after the war.

Then the Epiphany was upon them, and the year had turned anew.

Percy began to spend some serious thought to what he might do when the spring came, as it inevitably would, when he could leave this place without fear of freezing from too long spent out of doors. He hoped by then, he would have learned how to cope with the knowledge that, once he departed, he would never again see Annabeth.

He had never broached the subject of payment for his services to her--he did not wish for a reward, as every moment by her side a gift. Keeping her safe had been an honor, not a chore. Yet he would need at least a little money to book passage on a ship, or to purchase a horse and some supplies. Perhaps he could speed up his departure by performing some manual labor for a local townsperson.

Percy had just begun to muster the courage to bring it up to Alejandra, hoping that she would be able to provide him some direction, when he received a summons, not from Lord Magnus, but from his uncle.

Sir Fredrik had called him to his study to discuss something that evening, and Percy prayed that he did not look too nervous. Perhaps the rumors of his birth had reached the lord of the household, and they wished to discuss the business of transferring a power which Percy did not possess. Or perhaps the truth of the circumstances of his station had finally come out, and Lord Magnus had chosen to send him away from their home. He was not certain which he would have preferred.

“Ah, Percy, come in!” said Fredrik, ushering him into the room. “Do sit down. Something to drink?”

“Oh,” he said, sliding into the chair which had been positioned in front of Fredrik’s desk. “No, thank you.” But the man had already sent along orders with a servant. What bizarre concoction would it be this time, Percy wondered. The soup made from rose flowers? The thin, foul-smelling ale which tasted of rotten bread?

While Percy waited at Fredrik’s leisure, the man in question continued to putter about his office, shuffling papers and muttering to himself in Swedish. He waited for so long, he began to wonder if Fredrik had forgotten him entirely, until a manservant reentered with two steaming mugs of… something. Percy attempted to thank the man as he handed him his drink, only to receive a rather condescending look from the corner of the man’s eye.

Cowed, he sipped his drink, preparing himself for the worst.

Yet--oh, what a pleasant surprise! The drink was hot, but sweet, with a splash of spices and a softness which hid the bitterness of the alcohol that ran through it. The sharp smell reminded him of the trees which surrounded the manor, fruit on a cold winter’s morning.

“Pardon me,” he said, “but what is this beverage?”

“That, my boy, is a cider,” Fredrik replied, settling down at his desk. “I take it you prefer this to ale, yes?”

Indeed. Rather than answer, he took another deep, deep drink, letting it warm him all the way to the tips of his toes.

“Now, then,” said Fredrik. “There are several things I wish to discuss with you.”

Percy straightened. “Yes, sir.”

Tapping his fingers against his desk, he peered at Percy over the rim of his glasses. “Over the past few months I have had the opportunity to observe you and your character, and you seem to me to be a good, upstanding young man. Now, I must be truthful; I recognize that we have perhaps, ahem, sped things up quite a bit more than one usually would in situations such as these, but as time is of the essence, I shall be brief, and speak plainly: would you, Perseus, be amenable,” he asked, “to marrying my daughter?”

Uh.

Oh.

Well.

“I… beg your pardon?”

Nonplussed, Fredrik rearranged several papers. “I have previously discussed it with her, and she has agreed to the proposition. She was quite insistent that we consulted you before any decision was made, of course.”

It seemed that the cold had frozen all of his mental faculties, bringing his thoughts to a grinding, stuttering halt.

Percy had come up against a wide, wide range of peculiar situations in his short life. He had been stared down by gods, monsters, and all manner of supernatural entities, most of which wished him fatal injury. He had been accused of, among other things, stealing the most powerful weapon in history, then a mere four years later, had been offered the gods’ rarest, most precious gift. He had witnessed, firsthand, the passing of an age and the end of the greatest empire known to man.

Absolutely none of it had prepared him for this moment.

“I…” He did not even know where to begin with such a request. “I… think, sir, there may be some confusion.”

“Nonsense,” Fredrik scoffed, reminding Percy eerily of his daughter. “What confusion could there be?”

What confusion? What of the fact that Percy was entirely unfit to be anyone’s husband, let alone Annabeth’s? “I am aware,” he said, slowly, “that some people have… perhaps loftier impressions of myself and my station than what may be accurate. Whatever you may have heard, unfortunately, I carry no blood claim to the Palaiologoi .”

Fredrik blinked, taken aback. “I had not heard such a rumor,” he said. “I do apologize if anyone has treated you strangely due to such misinformation.”

“I carry no claim to any sort of titles at all, truly,” Percy said, pressing the truth of the matter. “I am no prince nor royal bastard, no lord nor duke, but merely a fisherman and a foot soldier of the allagion .”

“And a son of Poseidon,” Fredrik added. “Lords and dukes can only dream of a peerage such as yours, my boy.”

As flattering as that was, Percy felt it was somewhat beyond the point. “What I mean to say, sir, is that there is not much I could offer your daughter by way of marriage.” Naught but his heart, a devotion and passion equal to the power of a thousand suns, but such things were immaterial, and not usually considered in terms of a marriage contract. “I have no titles nor lands, no family--I haven’t even a lira to my name.”

“You need not concern yourself with the finances,” Fredrik said. “Anja herself possesses a considerable dowry--one or two tracts of land granted to her by my late brother which can be cultivated or exchanged as the two of you see fit.”

“I--be that as it may,” he stammered, floundering for some sort of purchase in this odd dream into which he had entered, “it was my understanding that Annabeth did not, precisely, wish to be married.” He kept the “ to me ” quiet, unsaid.

Not only had she certainly not been the greatest devotee of Hera, patroness of marriage, but the only time she had ever brought the topic up in conversation had been in reference to making herself Empress. Why on Earth would she agree to such a contract with Percy?

Fredrik sighed, removing his glasses and placing them on his desk. “How much has Anja spoken of our relationship?”

“Only the broadest strokes,” he said, a trifle embarrassed. He did not wish to divulge the deepest secrets of her unhappy childhood to the man responsible for much of it.

“Tell me, Perseus,” said Fredrik. “Do you have any children yourself?”

“No, sir,” Percy said, unsure of the direction of this conversation. “Not to my knowledge.”

Frowning, thoughtful, Fredrik held Percy in place with his keen eyes, so like his daughter’s. “While I love my sons, I would be remiss if I did not confess my numerous sins regarding the health and well-being of my first child. When the lady Athena gifted me with Anja, I had just returned from my stay at an English monastery, where I had been consulting with several of the monks there. I was a young man, not so much older than yourself, and in a similar financial predicament. My brother did not approve of my scholastic desires, and so provided me with little assistance. My union with Mary was, in part, an attempt to provide Anja with certain things she had never known before: namely, a mother, someone to whom she could turn whilst I was otherwise occupied. Unfortunately, as you well know, that is not how she saw it. And so, in my negligence and ignorance, what I thought was the right choice for her was merely the impetus she finally required in order to make an attempt for freedom.”

Somehow, Percy could not imagine Fredrik as a young man, so weighed down by years and years of regret and sorrow.

“I never imagined I would see her again; my Anja. I had presumed that she was lost to me forever, and then, once word of the defeat of Constantinople had reached us… Well, I had resigned myself to the fact of her death. It was a near inevitability. And then, you presented me with a miracle: Anja returned to me, and with forgiveness in her heart.” Then he smiled, and the years seemed to fade from his face. “I love my daughter, and I swore I would never do anything to lose her goodwill ever again. Unfortunately, as you and I well know, though she certainly would be able to live well and peacefully on her own, it can be rather difficult for an unmarried woman to make a name for herself. It can be done, and it has, but the presence of a husband can grease certain wheels, give her access to social circles in which I know she shall thrive. And there are other things to consider as well.” Shuffling the papers on his desk, he pulled one forth, squinting at it. “My wife has informed me that several young men in Uppsala have expressed their interest in marriage with Anja. The politics are long and tedious, so I shall not bore you with them, but you and I can both agree that she deserves to be more than a bargaining chip in a bloody conflict.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, for what else could he say? Percy would give her the world, if she but asked him to.

“I intend to remove her from the conflict entirely,” Fredrik went on. “And for that, we have agreed, there is no one better suited to the position than you: a friend and ally, and someone who will not press her to do anything which she does not want for herself.”

Even seated, his hackles rose at the thought.

As he fought valiantly to keep hold of his father’s legendary temper, Fredrik must have mistaken his silence for reluctance. “This arrangement is not agreeable to you?” he asked, concerned.

“Oh--no, sir, not at all--it is very agreeable, yes,” he rushed to assure him. How could he possibly explain that the man had just offered him his wildest, most precious dream, wrapped sweetly in a perfect little package? Every inch of him screamed to accept it. “I merely… do not know what to say.”

He wanted to say yes. Oh, how he wanted . He wished to wake up to her hair in his mouth, to her blinding smile in his bed, to take her in his arms and demonstrate the extent of his affection and passion for her. He wished for her every waking moment, every hour and minute of her presence, even if just to bask in the simple fact that he shared it with her. A lifetime with Annabeth, spent in the frozen North of Svealand--a better reward than anything any god had ever offered him.

“I…”

Yet, he faltered.

“If… if possible, sir, I should like to speak to Annabeth before any arrangements are finalized.”

Frowning lightly, Fredrik nodded. “I understand, though I do urge you not to linger too long on this decision. There are more things here at stake than perhaps you or I realize.”

If he had not spent so much of his adolescence as a demigod, he thought, such a vaguely ominous warning would have caused some concern. But it could not bother him now.

“I will speak with her today or tomorrow, sir.” Percy promised, though it was all he could do not to accept his offer right at this moment, to run from this room, find her, and kiss her. “As soon as possible. I merely wish to discuss with her directly regarding her expectations.”

At that, Fredrik grinned a little, humor peeking out from behind his stern exterior. “Good man,” he said. “With that attitude, I am certain you will go far as a husband.”

In something of a daze, Percy wandered his way back to his sleeping quarters, his thoughts racing faster than Apollo’s chariot, turning every word of his conversation with Fredrik over in his mind, digging for any possible double-meanings. And yet, the meaning seemed perfectly clear: Annabeth and her father had discussed her prospects, and had come to the conclusion that marrying Percy was the proper course of action.

In his experience, such a boon never came without a price. It was something Annabeth herself had told him, once upon a time: there was no such offer so duplicitous as a free meal.

When he entered his room, he found the subject of his contemplations waiting on him there. “So,” Annabeth said, keen eyes piercing straight through to the heart of him, “I take it my father spoke with you?”

Wonderful; he did not need to catch her up to the situation at hand. “I did,” he said, an inexplicable irritation surging through him. “Though perhaps ‘ambushed’ may be a better term for it.”

She pursed her lips, but said nothing.

He knew, in his soul, that he should not speak to her like this, that he was more than capable of carrying out such a conversation with logic and reason--but month after month of freezing weather, strange food, and being stared at like an animal cage had taken its toll, and he found his patience had worn a bit thin. “Had I realized you were so keen on marriage,” he said, “I would have endeavored to bring you home sooner. Your father tells me there are several gentlemen all vying for your hand.”

“My step-mother’s doing, no doubt,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Were it my decision, I would not be in this predicament, I assure you.”

As he had suspected. “Well, then I suppose I should be grateful that, if you ever deigned to marry, I would be amongst the preferred candidates.”

Her mouth twisted, no doubt a clever retort just about to trip off the tongue, but, clenching her jaw, she wrangled it in. “I know it is in our nature to quarrel with each other,” she said, “but I would have your cooperation in this. If you agree, we shall be married; if you do not, we shall not. Surely it is within our power to make it so simple?”

There were many, many things he wished to say to her, beginning with how he did not appreciate being put on the spot in that manner, and ending with how marrying her would be the greatest achievement of his lifetime, but, curse of the demigods, his mind raced far ahead of his mouth, and all that came out was a statement only tangentially related. “I am not a farmer,” he blurted.

She raised her brows. “Beg pardon?”

“I--” he rubbed a hand over his face, attempting to pluck the words from the typhoon of his thoughts and feelings, “you know that I am only a foot soldier, yes? A foot soldier and a fisherman. Yes, I can claim the mantle of a hero, but what good does that do beyond the confines of the agoge ? What could I possibly bring to the table? I do not know how to work the land, or manage assets, or--or be a husband.” And therein lay the truth, that he could not be the type of husband she would deserve. He could be a friend, an ally, and a traveling companion, and there their paths would branch off, leading them down two very different destinies.

No matter how fervently he desired otherwise.

Annabeth let out a breath. There was raw, naked pity on her face, as though she had not considered he could feel this way. “You will not have to do any farming yourself,” she said, slowly. “There are people we could hire, help that we could bring in to manage all the things that we have no knowledge of. We could sell the land and use the money for something else entirely. And as for being a husband,” she bit her lip, shaking her head minutely, “you have been the most stalwart, steadfast friend a person could ever have. I imagine that a husband would require much the same qualities.”

That much was true, yes. Percy had experienced for himself two very different kinds of husbands, the ill-tempered and devoted, the creature of harsh words and the man of warmth and comfort, the monster of Percy’s childhood and his mother’s second husband. He thought of Paul, his easy understanding and his willingness to believe the wild yarn his wife had spun for him. To be a man like that, Percy felt that was a task he could manage, yet there were other things Paul had provided his wife… things that Percy did not know if Annabeth wanted from him.

Swallowing, she tilted her chin up. Her eyes were glassy, shining in the candlelight. “I know this must not be what you had envisioned,” she said, speaking slowly as though she were choosing every word after much deliberation, “but there is… of the options provided, there is no one else to whom I would rather be married. I know you would treat me kindly, would be my friend and confidante; what more could any wife wish for?”

Ah. Now he understood.

“Very well.” Percy held out his hand to her. “I formally accept your proposal.”

Percy was her tether to freedom. Presented with the inevitability of marriage, Annabeth had chosen the least undesirable path, a man who would, at the very least, not forcibly tie her to the hearth and home.

Well, if that was the only service he was to provide for her, then provide it he could.

With only a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand, and they shook on it.

***

Several weeks later, they were married.

Percy had volunteered his services as best man to several of his fellow soldiers in Constantinople; it felt very strange to be on the other side of the festivities. Still, the ceremony itself was quite similar to the ones he had witnessed before. Considerably less icons, however. Given how the Eastern Romans had fought tooth and nail for their icons, to be married without them felt nearly like a betrayal, even though he put no stock in such things.

Notice of their wedding had been posted on the church door of the little town nearby, in order to give people time enough to find reasons to object, should there be any. “Sometimes,” Alejandra had explained, “a man or a woman will have a number of wedded partners in a number of different towns; this gives a jilted lover the chance to come forward and name the philanderer publicly. Usually, though, it is to confirm that the two who are to be wedded are not so close in blood.”

Percy cast a thought to his convoluted family tree, and decided not to think on it further.

He had nearly laughed, though, when the priest had asked him if there were any sins he wished to confess before he was wed. His sins against the church were varied and extensive, as were Annabeth’s; in all ways, save the most obvious, one could say that the two of them lived in sin together. He could not truly tell, but he thought he may have seen her suppress a smile out of the corner of his eye.

She looked lovely that day--as she did all on days--but on her wedding day, she had arrived in a royal blue dress that made his heart pound and his palms sweat, nearly the same darkness as the shawl he had gifted her, dark against her pale skin. Her hair had grown much longer since her ill-fated cut, and had been cleaned and maintained by her maid, looking even softer and more golden than it usually did, falling down over her shoulders, a garland placed on her head.

There, in front of the gathered assembly, he vowed to honor, obey, have and hold until death, and slid a ring onto her finger. The priest conferred unto him a kiss of peace, and bade him to do the same to his wife. To Percy’s credit, he restrained himself from pulling her into his arms, and merely placed the absolute chastest of kisses on her lips. After the appropriate amount of time, Annabeth pulled back, her face a pristine mask, and Percy prayed that he had the same amount of composure.

The celebratory feast, unfortunately, would prove to be much more difficult.

Alejandro, merry on spiced wine and in his volunteer function as best man, had corralled the guests into a little wedding game which came from Anglia. The cooks had made enough buns and spice cakes to feed a small army, and, in a fit of insanity, the assembled party decided to stack them on top of each other, creating a sizable tower of buns, nearly as tall as Annabeth. “There we are, lovebirds!” he crowed in Spanish, as he was too inebriated for Latin, slinging his arm around Percy’s neck. “Here are the rules: you must kiss one another over the tower, and if it does not fall, your union will certainly be blessed!”

The crowd, having finished their construction, took up the call, cheering them on, Alejandro physically dragging Percy up out of his seat, and pushing him towards the tower. Magnus was doing much the same to Annabeth, steering her to the other side.

“Alejandro, I--I cannot--”

But whatever excuse he tried to invent was lost over the approving jeers and cheers of their audience. Though he could not understand their words, he knew precisely what was required of him here.

Across the tower, Annabeth was flushed, with drink or embarrassment or cold, he could not tell, but she looked on him with expectant eyes, and he knew she was smart enough to have come to the same conclusion. To refuse to take part in this little game would be foolhardy, at best.

Up close, the tower of baked goods was not nearly so tall as it had seemed, and it was easy for him to lean down without disturbing the construction of food. On her side, Annabeth had closed her eyes, her lips parted, waiting for his to fall on her.

By his count, this was now their third kiss. Perhaps it was to be their last. He would savor it then, he told himself, commit to memory the softness of her lips and the redness of her cheeks, her long, golden eyelashes resting against her skin.

A great, raucous cheer went up from the crowd, and they pulled apart, greeting their audience with bashful smiles.

Percy turned, ready to apologize to Annabeth for all of this. But he held his tongue when he saw the bright smile on her face. He knew her fake and forced smiles, this was not it. She was happy. And he could pretend, at least for a moment, that it was because of him, and not because of the clever situation she’s managed to get herself into.

Eventually, the celebration ended, and they had to retire to bed. Percy had started down the hallway to retire to the guest quarters, until Annabeth had looked at him oddly, and he was suddenly reminded--of course, they were now married. They would be sharing a bed from now on.

The very thought sent a shiver down his spine.

They had shared beds before, hundreds of times. On this journey alone, they had shared the bed of many an inn, simply to save money. For some reason, this time felt different.

Annabeth’s room was not so different to his own; a little larger, perhaps. Fredrik, Magnus, and Alejandro saw them off, Fredrik embracing his daughter and kissing her forehead. He whispered something to her in Swedish, and she nodded into his chest, sweetly. Then he looked at Percy, gave him a solemn nod, and departed.

Now they were alone.

The fire in the hearth had already been lit--and had been for a while, judging by the size and heat of the flame. That must have been why Percy suddenly felt hot beneath all his clothing.

“Well,” he said, wandering to the other side of the bed. The room had no echo; it made it feel smaller, somehow. “I imagine that was not how you had envisioned your wedding, yes?”

She did not respond.

The heat of the room was bordering on suffocating. How odd, since he had only ever known the climate to be perpetually frozen. To alleviate this, he removed the outermost layer of his clothing. “Certainly it is not what I thought mine would be. In truth,” Percy said, filling the silence with his babble, “I had not thought that I would ever marry. Not because I detested the very idea, mind you,” he rushed to confirm, “but, you know how few of us reach the marriageable age in our line of work. It always felt like some sort of far-off dream to me. Yet, here we are! How amusing, yes?”

Still nothing.

He turned to her, then yelped. “Oh, forgive me! I had not realized--”

“It is fine, Percy,” she said, lowly. “We are married now; it is no sin to look at me undressed.”

While he was not looking, she had shed her clothes as well, folding her dress neatly for someone to claim later. Her underclothes were white, made of thick, sturdy material, perfect for cold, winter days.

“Still,” he said. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You have not.” From behind, he watched her shoulders rise and fall as she sighed. “When I thought of my wedding,” she said, after a moment’s silence, “I did not think it would have so many Catholics.”

Percy laughed, a sound startled right out of his chest. “I as well!”

She chortled, too, causing the fabric of her dress to ripple. “If you must know,” then she turned to him, her hands deftly winding her hair into a braid, “I used to dream about being married in the ways of the shieldmaidens.”

Sense memory, he remembered the feel of her stiff, bloody hair in his hands, gently twisting it this way and that. His fingers twitched. “What,” he coughed, “what did the ways of the shieldmaidens entail?”

He wondered for a moment, given the story she had told him of Katya and Clarice, if that was what she had meant by the ways of shieldmaidens, and if she had dreamed of that, when she had not dreamed of Lukas instead.

“Sacrifices, ritual baths--what one might expect from a wedding.” She tied the end of her hair off with a length of leather cord, the braid coming to rest over her shoulder, the tip of it tickling the neckline of her dress. “When the bride and the groom met in ceremony, they would exchange their weapons with one another.”

He nearly laughed, it seemed so in line with all that he had learned about the northern raiders. "Quite befitting a warrior’s culture," he mused.

Nodding, she stepped closer towards the bed, though she made no move to lie down upon it, instead leaning against a bedpost. “The groom would present the sword of his ancestors which he had unearthed from the family tomb; in turn, the bride would gift him a weapon as well.” Weakly, she attempted a smile, though it looked to be more of a grimace to Percy’s eyes. “My father once told me that he had gifted my mother a weapon such as this. Unfortunately, she was not so familiar with the custom, and so would not accept it.”

Her lips turned downwards, her whole posture sagging with a muted sorrow.

Oh, why not. “We both have our own ancestral weapons,” he said. “If you are amenable, we could exchange them now.”

She flicked her eyes up to him.

“It is no trouble for me.” If it would make her smile, he would take Anaklusmos and toss it into the hearth itself. Lending her his sword for a while was nothing.

She studied him, her lips thin as they pressed against each other. “You truly would not mind?” she asked. “I know it is a silly tradition.”

Rather than answer, he pulled his sword from his belt. The magical item, when not in use, took the form of a key, for ease of portability. Whispering its name, a powerful summons, it grew into the long, leaf-bladed xiphos his father had gifted him, and he held it out to her, hilt-first.

“Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter,” he said, these strange syllables finally at home on his tongue, “I offer you my sword.” He did not know if the words were correct, but he prayed that they would suffice.

Across the bed, her large, grey eyes shone in the firelight. Her mouth quivered with furiously checked emotion, and she had to turn to hide her face, snatching something out of the bundle of clothing she had discarded. When she turned back, she had not regained her composure--not one bit. “Perseus thalassinos ,” she murmured, holding out her knife towards him, hilt-first, just as she had so many months ago, in the middle of nowhere with dead men at their feet, the highest act of trust she could muster. “I offer you my sword.”

Over the bed, they exchanged their weapons.

Taking the bronze knife in his hand, he felt different, somehow. He felt as though he had passed through a door of some kind, had crossed over into a newer, stranger world, and yet, he felt no danger, for he had a partner at his side, one who would see him through all senses of conflict.

Brandishing his weapon, Annabeth took one look at it, then promptly burst into tears.

Percy dropped the knife. It clattered against the cold stones, forgotten. “Annabeth,” he asked, rushing to her side, “Annabeth, what is wrong?”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, she shook her head, her whole body trembling as a tree caught in a mighty storm. Fearful that she would accidentally hurt herself, he plucked the sword from her grasp, tossing it carelessly aside, and gently wrapped his hands around her upper arms.

“Annabeth, what is it?”

She grasped him in return. Her grip was always strong, and now her fingers dug into his muscles, squeezing him tight. “I--” she sobbed, “I--” Her chest was seized with hysterical breaths, her eyes shut tightly. “This is--I--it was not supposed to be like this,” she gasped. Tears flowed freely from beneath her eyelids, glittering like crystals in the firelight.

“I know,” he breathed. “I know, and I am sorry.” Sorry that she was stuck with the likes of him. She could have had her pick of the world--lords and emperors and whoever else--and somehow, she had the misfortune of being tied to him.

“No, it is not--” she wept. “Silena, we had al-always spoken of--and you have been so kind and--and understanding, but I--we--and I dragged you halfw-way across the world, but I know you h-hate it here--”

“I do not hate it here,” he protested, even though it was true.

“I had thought m-my wedding would be held at the camp.” Were he not listening so intently, he would not have heard her words, warbled and warped as they were by her heaving sobs. “On the b-beaches of Troia , and my m-mother would be there, but she is gone , and camp is gone, and--I--I just--”

“I am here,” he murmured, squeezing her shoulders. “Oh, Annabeth, I am here.”

She opened her eyes, grey storm clouds glinting with lightning.

“It is alright,” he told her. He understood her feelings well; not a day had gone by without a thought to the whereabouts of their friends, of their family. But here they were, together, and that was all that mattered. “You are not alone,” he swore . “I will stick by you, I promise.”

With a trembling sigh, she threw her arms around him. He pressed her close, his arms coming up to circle her torso, holding her to his chest. “I am sorry,” she gasped, “I am so sorry.”

“It is alright,” he said, a hand coming up to the bottom of her neck to better support her. “You do yourself no disservice.”

“N-no, it is not--” she shuddered, a localized earthquake within his arms. “The marriage,” she said, “it is not--not legal unless we--we--”

He knew precisely what she was going to say, and though his heart surged at the idea--and he was certain she could feel it, pressed so close to him as she was--his mind, thankfully, was in control for the time being. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Not tonight.”

That seemed to shock her out of her panic. She stilled in his arms, her wails subsiding.

Poor thing, she must have been so worried that whoever she married would attempt to force her to fulfill the marriage contract. Once again, he cursed the whole damnable institution; he knew so often that women had so little say in matters of the flesh. Well, Percy was not like other men, and he would not take something which she was not prepared to give. He would not do that to any woman, let alone one whom he loved so deeply.

She pulled back. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. “It is our wedding night,” she said, dumbly.

“Yes,” Percy agreed, “but we do not have to do anything that you do not want to do.”

“But it is our wedding night,” she insisted.

“I know.”

“Our marriage is not legal if we do not.”

“I understand.”

“But…” she blinked, casting about for her words. “But…”

“We can claim that the festivities left us too exhausted to do naught but sleep,” Percy said. “Or we can claim that we consummated the marriage anyway. Surely your father will not check your sheets for blood.”

Dumbfounded, she gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing around nothing. Percy had grown to rather enjoy rendering her speechless, though this time around, it left something of a bad taste in his mouth.

“I do not think we should do anything tonight,” he said. “To take advantage of you… of anyone this way, would be a most unforgivable sin.”

He had thought she would agree. Surely he had assuaged her worries.

Instead, her eyes narrowed. “On the contrary,” she said, her voice still thick with tears. “I believe we should consummate the marriage tonight.”

“Annabeth--”

“You think I am too weak to fulfill the marital contract.”

“Of course not,” he scoffed.

“Then there is no reason to delay,” she said. “And, moreover, I…”

Trailing off, her cheeks filled with blood. Percy’s heart throbbed in his chest, deafening.

“I… I want it,” she said, a whisper on a breeze.

Helpless, he could only watch as her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

“Do you… do you not?”

Beneath his vision, he could just barely see her bosom as it moved in time with her breathing. Oh, Anja, he wanted nothing more in the world than you at this moment!

She shuttered her eyes closed again, as though she were in pain. “I am sorry,” she repeated--for what, though, he could not imagine. “But I am afraid that… that if we do not… then some would see our union as--as invalid.”

The bubble of fantasy burst, and reality set in.

Of course. Politics and power-broking. To save herself, she would give herself to him. To protect her, he had to let this happen.

It was the easiest choice he ever made.

Bending his neck, he leaned down, and he kissed her.

As a flower in the dawn, she opened herself to him.

Her mouth was warm against his, her lips soft. Through the fabric of her dress, he could feel every muscle as she pressed up against him, could feel her breath hitch as he laid her down on the bed, as his hands pushed the hemline of her nightclothes up her thighs.

It felt as though every choice he had ever made, every path he had ever taken and every one he had ever shunned, had led to this moment, to Annabeth, panting and hot beneath him. Percy had been lucky enough to be the paramour of goddesses, disciple and student both, and now he had a chance to demonstrate what he had learned. If she were to be tied to him in this way, if this were his only chance to show her how he truly felt, then tonight, he vowed, he would make it worth her while.

She tasted just as sweet as he had dreamt she would. Her cries of passion, more beautiful than any music he had ever known.

And when he entered her, her scrunched face and wrinkled nose relaxing into slack pleasure, he held himself still, gazing on it, committing every single detail to his deepest, most sacred memory.

They moved together. Over and over again, they moved together, her legs slowly traveling up the backs of his thighs, ticklish and feathery. “Percy,” she gasped, one of his hands coming up to cup her breast, the other hard at work at the apex of her thighs. “Percy!”

“Anja,” he murmured into her neck. “Anja.”

With a wail, she tossed her head back, her braid loose and messy against the pillows, her legs tightening about his waist.

He could not stop himself even if he wanted to. And he did not want to.

Close behind, he followed her over the edge, hissing through his teeth as they took the plunge together.

It could have been days until Percy came back to his senses, days spent in the Elysium of Annabeth’s embrace. Her heartbeat was as ragged as his, and they beat in twain, a call and an answer.

Then she shifted beneath him. “Percy.”

“Oh.” He untangled himself from her, his limbs suddenly so awkward and gangly, pulling himself out and away, then lay down next to her, his hot, sweaty skin suddenly freezing in the cold air.

And there it was. Something of a lifelong dream, fulfilled.

Now if only he could discover why he felt so empty.

After a while, Annabeth threw back the sheets, and got out of bed. Percy tried not to linger too much on her bare form, even as he marveled how she was able to withstand the cold without so much as a protective shift. Then she bent over, picking something up from the floor, and Percy, only a mortal man, he could not resist.

Gods above, she was truly the most stunning creature ever to walk this earth. Every inch of her seemed to be perfectly crafted to send him into a frenzy of passion. So intent was he on taking in the whole beautiful picture that he nearly missed the trickle of something down the inside of her legs, belatedly realizing what it was.

He had to physically tear himself away, flopping himself back down on the sheets, to put that thought to bed. Demonic harpies , he chanted to himself. Stymphalian birdsong. Lord Dionysus in a pankration . Anything which would stop his baser instincts from manifesting themselves.

So focused on his own body was he, he did not notice what Annabeth was doing until it was much too late. “Annabeth,” he gasped, “what--”

But she had already used her knife to cut her hand, letting dark blood drip onto the white sheets. “There,” she said. “Now no one will have cause for doubt.”

He moved to leave the bed himself. “Let me see your hand--”

“It is fine,” she stopped him, already wrapping it up in a length of cloth she had ripped from her underclothes. “It shall cease to bleed by morning.”

“I am sorry,” he said, though he was not certain which sin required her forgiveness. “I did not mean to…” To what? Break her heart? Plant his seed? Fall in love? He had not meant to do any of these things, yet still, they had been done, and could not be undone. But, there was one thing for which he could apologize. “I am sorry that you must bear this burden,” he said. “It is not fair to you.”

“As I said,” Annabeth replied, slipping back beneath the covers, turning away from him. “It is fine. Good night, Perseus.”

Then silence reigned in the bedroom.

Percy could not fall asleep for a long, long time.

#my fic #the marble king #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #another doozy

8 notes · View notes

titanstalesofmidnight · 4 years

Text

Sultan of Nanda Pardat

Hello Everyone,

@shewhowillnotbenamed1 and @bluboothalassophile have organized the start of a project which we will be tackling at our leisure. But in light of the JL Dark Apokolips War I have decided to jump start us! Here’s some DamiRae love for the wonderful DamiRae Fans and the start of the Aladdin AU! =)

~~~*~*~*~~~

He just felt so annoyed.

He was so unreasonably annoyed with her. She was beautiful to the eye, her thick black hair and unique eyes, she was stunning, poised, elegant, and she was intelligent. But she was also not what he wanted. Everything about her was a presentation, this was what she was. Princess Mar’iand’r was façade, she wasn’t real, he couldn’t figure out who she really was though, and he didn’t know if he wanted to know who she really was. She was boring him.

And while he wouldn’t be so rude as to plainly say she was boring him he sensed he was also boring her.

Which was a shame, a union between their families would be prosperous but he felt like it was an act, which was why he wanted to leave her.

Things had never been like this with his father and mother alive, before, and his grandfather was a fair Sultan, but something had changed in the last year. The pressing need for him to settle down, to obtain a wife, to stop his bachelor ways was a demand. Even his harem seemed to sense this, which was unsettling, as they had gone from acting like a harem to trying to obtain his favor for marriage, which wasn’t going to happen with any of them. And he would sooner marry a cobra than his cousin; who had been relentless in her pursuit, which was what had lead him to where he was, with the beautiful Mar'iand’r looking at his gardens.

Maya had successfully driven off most of his interested prospects, and now he was just trying to scrounge for an alliance of some reasonable level of power so he didn’t have to marry her. His grandfather seemed in favor of him taking Maya as his wife but he couldn’t bear the thought; Maya was… Maya. It was just too disgusting to stomach, she wasn’t even his type, not really. But then again, neither was Princess Mar’iand’r. He sighed as they continued to walk the gardens. His prospects were not turning in his favor and he wanted that to change. He understood that soon his grandfather might pass away and he would need to have a strong alliance secure. He would also need an heir and he was nearing thirty years of age, he had to provide the things and soon before the people of Nanda Parbat would be very uneasy, and he was aware that he was desperate having put this off too long. Since his father and mother’s passing it hadn’t been a priority, and the wars with the All-Castes and Hebrews had been time consuming. Hell, managing his harem was difficult at times, and that was a harem of political alliances and potential wives.

But no one he had met suited his desired criteria for a wife.

They were all vain and vapid creatures, also all the facades were old, and he wanted to scream at them for these façades. However, he also had to criticize his high criteria for his expectation in a wife.

He wanted what his parent’s had had. His mother and father had been the ruler of the people, beloved, they also had a deep love which had been beautiful, he envied it and he wanted it. Damian wanted a partner; he wanted a wife who he could rely on to do half the work. Or lead in his stead, he had no use for a weak-willed woman. But also, he wanted a wife who spoke for the people, he had fought in so many wars and for so long he wouldn’t know what the people were like or the current climate for the affairs he had to handle; not with this endless parade of potential wives. There was also a vain hope with him that he could love whoever he married, he wanted more than affection or to be a tool or companion, he wanted a woman he could potentially love, and that made things a little difficult as Maya was always lurking around to scare off his potential wives. He wished he had followed tradition and sought these women out himself but his grandfather was ailing and he couldn’t afford to be away from Nanda Parbat that long.

Especially if he had hopes of keeping Maya from the throne.

Damian wanted a woman of strength, compassion, character, and principle to be at his side. Thus far that had been no one, but the one who was closest to his criteria was Princess Mar’iand’r from Tameran. He kind of wanted to claw his eyes out with boredom with her company. On paper she was perfect, and in person she was perfect, but her façade was a façade and he couldn’t seem to penetrate it to see the real her for a minute.

In fact, he was boring of this talk and walk, which was what had him politely steering her towards the palace again, and dismissing her as he ‘remembered’ a war council meeting with his grandfather. They parted with small smiles and he hurried off.

He had to get the hell out of this palace! Perhaps it’d be for the best if he met some of the people, they could enlighten him as to what he should look for in a Sultana. He didn’t know what to do anymore, he just needed a direction, in war everything had direction and intent, and he was good with both of those. There was also the problem of he couldn’t leave the palace, not for a sustainable period of time at least, however, he was certain he could make an evening in the marketplace.

He hoped he could at least.

Perhaps his grandfather would cease his hovering, Damian al Ghul was both Sultan and General and fully capable of taking care of himself.

~~~*~*~*~~~

She didn’t know what he was thinking, and she frankly didn’t know what she was thinking as she threw herself between the merchant and stranger who was arguing with the guards over an apple he had taken and given to children.

“Master! There you are!” Raven gasped as she caught the huge man’s arm before the guards and merchants reacted poorly and the man was executed for this slight he had been caught for.

“Master!?” everyone sputtered and she looked up at the man as she smiled a bit and gestured for him to go along with her before she gave him a deep formal bow. Then she turned slightly, hiding her face as best as she could so the guards and merchants didn’t recognize her as their normal thief.

“I apologize on my Master’s behalf,” she said as she nimbly picked an apple to hand it back to the merchant. “We have only recently arrived in Nanda Pardat and he insisted on accompany me to the market place, here you go. He is so wealthy he forgets coin is needed at times,” she smiled. “No harm, no foul, we must go.”

“I am the Master of the house,” the stranger haughtily stated. “I will not be commanded by a servant,” he chided.

“I apologize Master,” she mused as she gave him another deep bow as she nimbly lifted another two apples.

“You had best remember this,” he chided as he motioned for them to walk. She scurried after him when there was a shout behind them, which had her grabbing wrist as she yanked the huge man into the alley, and she lead him through the city as the guards clambered around behind them, unaware of where they were going. She smiled as she tossed two kids the apples she had lifted for them before she stepped nimbly on the pottery, hoisting herself up nimbly with a skip to the stone fence, she landed and the man landed soundlessly beside her. Grabbing his hand she dragged him into the darkness as she raced through the ruins, leaping over the torn apart ground she caught a ladder and pulled herself up, she was a bit shocked that he followed her and she chuckled as they made it to her ruins. She chuckled as she offered him a hand, he took it, as he pulled himself up.

“Well that was fun,” she chuckled as her turban fell down and she dragged a hand through her hair.

“What was that?”

“You cannot just go about handing out food without paying for it,” she said. “Unless you aren’t caught.”

“And you?” he mused as he stood looming over her. It was now she noticed the uniform, Nanda Pardat League of Assassins, and in that finery he was either home on leave and didn’t know how the city worked or just returned from the wars. She would wager money on him being returned from the wars, there was a way he had moved to keep up.

“I’m the local thief, I should’ve left you to be speared,” she replied daintily as she walked through her ruins. No one lived in the ruins, she knew why even, having been the cause for their creation.

“You’re the local thief?” he asked.

“And you are a returning soldier, from the front?” she asked as she examined his uniform. It was torn, but well cared for, and his eyes looked very sad all of a sudden.

“Yes,” he replied. “I hadn’t realized how much the city had changed,” he said.

“It hasn’t changed,” Raven shrugged. “Do you have a place to stay? Wait, you couldn’t even have coin to pay for the apples, you can stay with me,” she offered.

“I could be a rapist.”

“Then I will slice your manhood off and feed it to the dogs,” she warned. “I also sincerely doubt you’re a rapist, or evil, you fed Cain’s orphan, you cannot be evil if she accepted your food.

“She was half starved.”

“And the wariest of all the orphans on the street,” Raven shrugged.

“Thank you for the offer then,” he decided as he bowed his head slightly. She felt her cheeks warm at his gesture, he acted like she was some fine lady and not some lowly thief. “I did not expect to receive no housing from my former lodgings.”

“Many landlords do not have the time to deal with the uncertainty of war,” she pointed out as she peeled off her dusty outer layer and lead him to the living area of her ruins, moving the heavy, tattered drapes she had hung up to keep the weather out. There were many pillows strewn about, she had always collected them from the garbage, repaired and carefully washed them. There was a battered table with her broken tea set, and her cooking fire. She had made her ruins; which had once been her prison, her home.

“Stay here as long as you need,” she offered with a shy smile. She had a few scrolls and books she had stolen and was attempting to learn to read, and she was certain the bread she had stolen yesterday wasn’t bad yet. “The guards won’t come here to the ruins.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re haunted,” she whispered softly. “I have some bread, you must be hungry.”

“You should eat.”

“No, you’re a soldier of Nanda Pardat, I bet you are famished,” she dismissed. Raven had gone longer without food, and she didn’t mind sharing what she had with him. He had fed Cain’s orphan, a little girl Raven had only recently gotten to trust her. Raven would see to it that this stranger was fed, and she didn’t care.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Damian stared dumbly at the small woman who had risked her neck to intercede on his behalf when he had bungled up his hiding in the marketplace to feed a starving child. She had then helped him escape the guards; though he doubted it would have escalated to his execution when they recognized him, but no one had; he had been gone for so long no one recognized their Sultan.

He stared at her as she offered him a bit of stale bread and some cheap wine and smiled kindly.

He was amazed at her beauty and generosity.

#titans tales of midnight presents!#aladdin au #damirae #demon birds #damian wayne x raven #damian al ghul x raven roth #damian wayne #raven #damian al ghul #raven roth #rachel roth #shewhowillnotbenamed1 #bluboothalassophile #dc fanfic #dc fandom #fanfic #part 1

64 notes · View notes

tabloidtoc · 3 years

Text

National Examiner, January 25

Cover: Secret Dawn Wells took to the grave: her affair with Bob Denver of Gilligan’s Island

Page 2: Best and Worst Celeb Tippers -- Katherine Heigl, Amy Schumer, Drew Barrymore, Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears, Madonna, Johnny Depp, Jay-Z

Page 3: Charlie Sheen, Ben Affleck, Sean Penn, Sharon Stone, Naomi Campbell, Mark Zuckerberg, Tom Selleck and Donnie Wahlberg took the 2020 Tip Challenge

Page 4: Goldie Hawn’s movie roles

Page 6: Melissa Gilbert who played Laura Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie says if there’s one piece of unfinished business that emerged from the show it’s that she’d like to punch former co-star Shannen Doherty -- Shannen was only 12 when she joined the Little House cast for the show’s ninth and final season playing Jenny Wilder but in a couples therapy session with her first husband Bo Brinkman it came out that Shannen at 22 had bagged Bo in bed

Page 7: Country star Dolly Parton may be 75 year old but that doesn’t stop her from leaping out of bed at 3 a.m. every morning -- she’s a very very very early riser and she goes to bed pretty early but she’s up and down

* Tom Hanks has been in countless movies and TV shows but his most important role in life has been as a father of four and he has tips for how to do it right

Page 8: If you’ve soured on feeding canned dog food to your precious pooch you’re not alone -- plenty of owners are switching over to healthy people-food diets for their pets but it’s essential to get guidance from your veterinarian

Page 9: Most of your kitty’s diet should be a nutritionally complete cat food but you can give them a treat from your plate every once in a while -- you just need to know how to choose feline-friendly snacks with nutrients they need and which they should NEVER eat -- check with your veterinarian

* Why animals creep into our dreams -- we all dream about animals from time to time and here are some of the most common creatures of our nights and what they could be trying to tell us

Page 10: On his 21st birthday Matt Goodman raised a glass to his late father who had left behind the money to buy his son’s first beer

Page 11: Your Health -- the stark truth is that sleeping naked is good for you

Page 12: Top Guns -- these Hollywood stars were fastest on the draw -- James Garner, Henry Fonda, Eli Wallach, Burt Lancaster, Roy Rogers

Page 13: Kevin Costner, Yul Brynner, Gary Cooper, Clint Eastwood, John Wayne

Page 14: Dear Tony, America’s Top Psychic Healer -- a lesson from COVID-19 which is work on mentally healing ourselves, Tony predicts Miley Cyrus will struggle to overcome many of her self-destructive habits, finding strength through religion and she will be back on the hit parade come summer

Page 15: If you and your partner fight a lot here’s a great idea to grasp: holding each other’s hand is the key to better conflict resolution

Page 16: Prince William and Duchess Kate Middleton might be royals but they’re raising their children just like any other parents and family is their first priority and Will and Kate are rarely apart from their three kids Prince George and Prince Charlotte and Prince Louis

Page 18: Maggie the shelter stray was twice unlucky when two potential forever homes kicked her to the curb but now she’s found her true calling as a beloved K-9 officer

Page 19: A homeless man in Atlanta put his life on the line to rescue every single cat and dog from a blazing inferno at an animal shelter

Page 20: Cover Story -- a three-hour tour that turned into a three-season laugh-fest on Gilligan’s Island made Dawn Wells a star and she took the show’s juiciest secrets to her grave including a red-hot affair with co-star Bob Denver -- Dawn who died of complications related to COVID-19 at age 82 hid a crazy sexy side which she kept under wraps because it was the exact opposite of the squeaky-clean image se presented to the world as farm girl Mary Ann on Gilligan’s Island

Page 22: This Michigan teen is a top Elvis Presley impersonator even performing in Las Vegas and the only one with Down syndrome

Page 24: Texas firefighters were hailed as heroes after they rescued a four-year-old boy who had fallen down a well

Page 25: Here’s the dirt on soil-free gardening

Page 26: Nice Work If You Can Get It -- celebs shell out stupid money for stupid jobs -- Rod Stewart travels with a room-darkening team, Lady Gaga hates to sleep alone and her personal assistant had to get in bed with her on nights when Gaga was solo, Larry Ellison likes to play basketball on his yacht and employs a person who job it is to circle it in a boat and retrieve stray balls from the ocean, Mariah Carey has a woman who stands beside her at all times holding a drink, Snoop Dogg pays a professional blunts roller, Prince Charles has a personal dresser, Justin Bieber’s entourage includes someone to hold his drink and another to hold his slice of pizza, Sean Combs has an assistant whose only job is to carry around an umbrella for him

Page 28: Burt Lancaster was one of Hollywood’s biggest stars acting in more than 70 movies during a four-decade-long career but he was also a silly practical joker says his daughter Joanna Lancaster one of the actor’s five children

Page 30: Legendary actress and dancer Ann-Marget will be 80 years old in April but she’s still stepping out and making movies -- you’re not dead when you reach a certain age said the star who shot to fame when she famously dated Elvis Presley when they made Viva Las Vegas in 1964

* Candice Bergen running wild and free at age 74 -- she recently became a first-time grandmother and is selling her hand-designed merchandise online

* What is Marie Osmond doing during the pandemic? She bought a Harley motorcycle and so did her husband Steve and they love to go riding together -- the twosome also take walks and see their kids and grandkids and stay busy and have fun

Page 42: All Washed Up -- surprising facts about bathing and showering

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Ellen DeGeneres goes for a spin in California (picture), Chrissy Teigen and John Legend take their kids Luna and Miles to watch planes make the tricky landing at St. Barts’ airport (picture), Joan Collins claims she once gave Bobby Kennedy the brush off because neither of them was single at the time, George Clooney can’t bear the thought of his early film Grizzly II seeing the light of day but it is set to be released later this year, Barry Gibb the last living member of The Bee Gees says life was incredibly hard after losing his brothers and bandmates Robin Gibb and Maurice Gibb who died in 2012 and 2003, Ray Liotta and Jacy Nittolo engaged, Bob Seger paid tribute to saxophonist Alto Reed a longtime member of his Silver Bullet Band who lost his life to colon cancer

Page 45: Prince Charles and Duchess Camilla show off their walking sticks outside their home at Birkhall in Scotland (picture), Tori Spelling gets some puppy love from one of their pet pooches in L.A. with help from hubby Dean McDermott (picture), Megan Fox has moved on with Machine Gun Kelly and her estranged husband Brian Austin Green isn’t moping solo -- he vacationed in Hawaii with Sharna Burgess of Dancing with the Stars, British photographer David Bailey is dishing on his storied career in his memoir -- he claims sloshed Elizabeth Taylor tried to swipe his camera and his first impression of ex-wife Catherine Deneuve was that she was short and a bit on the fat side, Phyllis McGuire who shared the stage with her late siblings Dorothy and Ruby as the McGuire Sisters died in her lavish Las Vegas home -- she found fame through her voice and infamy through her relationship with Sin City mobster Sam Giancana

Page 46: Good-hearted sheriff’s deputies surprised a woman with a vehicle after they kept getting calls about her walking along the highway in the freezing cold each morning

Page 47: These UN Ambassadors use star power to help -- Emma Watson, Danny Glover, Nicole Kidman, Angelina Jolie, Antonio Banderas, Whoopi Goldberg, Susan Sarandon, Liam Neeson, Laurence Fishburne, Mia Farrow, Katy Perry, Alyssa Milano

3 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 4 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths. RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

Tags - @skulliebythesea

“It’s barren,” Thor looked around them as the wind howled.

“They used the Casket to alter the terrain temperature to allow them to cultivate the land,” Ella informed him, though as she looked around, though she thought the same.

“Why would you know something like that?”

“Why would you know what the main source of employment is in Asgard's woodlands? You know it because it is relevant to your duty as King.” He sister stated before looking around again. “It’s dying.”

“What is?” Thor looked around half expecting to see some creature needing to be put out of its misery.

“The realm. Everything here is sickly and weak.” She looked to the side, noting an ice statue close by. She walked over closer to it and inspected it a little more. As she looked at its face, it’s eye opened revealing a ruby red eye looking back at her.

Ella took a step back as the guards around them raised their weapons for a moment before a group of Jotnar jumped down from the large ice structures around them, surrounding them on one side.

“Allfather,” Arden bowed, stepping forward.

“Where is Laufey? It is somewhat frowned upon that he would not meet us in person.” Odin demanded.

“I fear King Laufey is not faring very well today. He sends his apologies. Time is not being kind to him.” The Jotnar explained.

“Or he fears that I will not see this son of his to be fit for purpose and is currently fleeing whilst you delay me?” Odin suggested.

Loki stood forward from behind several guards that were taller than him. “My father is no coward and he would not flee you. Were I to be found ‘lacking’ as you put it, he would stand before you as you cast such judgement.”

Odin eyed the young half-Jotnar in front of him. “You grew more than I thought you would.” He stated as he studied Loki. “Your manners require finer tuning.”

“I was raised to honour my father, so I do not address the man to dare call him a coward with anything other than the respect he deserves, none. If you wish to have my respect or manners, you will not insult my father in such a fashion.” Loki growled in response, standing tall in front of the Allfather. He noted Thor, who stood beside his father almost as arrogantly. Mjolnir, his famous weapon in his hand as he did so. Behind them, there were several guards and a few warriors that were known to travel with Thor as his companions. And behind them, stood two women, one he assumed to be Frigga, the Allmother, going by her age, and to her left, her head almost tilted in curiosity, stood a young woman he could only assume to be the Allfather’s daughter.

He wished he had more time to study her but all things considered, he felt it more pertinent to deal with Odin and his comment in regard to his father.

Odin eyed him again, noting that Loki focused on Ella for a moment. “An honourable man stands up for his father and family, I respect that.”

Loki focused his attention fully on the Allfather once more, he was wary of how to proceed but he needed to ensure the situation did not escalate. “Please, forgive our abrupt entrance, we thought your party would arrive on a ledge over beyond these dwellings, so we waited there, we had to rush over on seeing the Bifrost land you here.”

Odin, seeing Loki’s attempts to move past the earlier comments, contemplated the situation for a moment before deciding not to argue further. “Well, considering the weather and the fact some of us are not as cold-blooded or capable of withstanding such elements easily, it seemed a safer option to land somewhere sheltered.” He took a few steps forward. “We are here now, so let us make our way somewhere a bit more sheltered.”

“Of course, please, right this way.” Loki guided them through the columns of ice, where many other Jotnar stood watching them, studying the newcomers from a relatively safe viewpoint, wary of their intentions.

Thor and his friends looked around, their hands on their weapons throughout feeding the animosity between them and the Frost Giants.

Ella simply looked around with intrigue.

When they arrived in the palace, Laufey was sitting on his throne which startled not only the Aesir but his own people who knew him to be very weak.

Odin was shocked to see how feeble the other king looked. “Laufey.”

“Allfather, please forgive my not joining the welcome party, I am not as strong as I used to be.”

The confession of his weakness and his tone as he said it concerned Odin. “Indeed, it cannot be helped. Your sons and closest advisors did so adequately in your absence.”

Everyone gathered knew that statement to be a lie, though none of them disputed it.

“Good,” Laufey nodded. He lifted his hand slightly and his three sons came to stand beside him, one on either side of the throne with Loki standing by his side. “So Allfather, let you begin your assessment. I hope you see it to be worth your time.”

“I have already begun. Since the moment we met your son I have been forming my opinion.” Odin looked directly at Loki as he spoke. “If I think him fit, then my daughter and the Casket shall see past the week here, if not, both return to Asgard with me before you can call upon the nearest ice beast.”

“So you have the Casket here? Odd, I cannot sense it.”

“As soon as the wedding knot is tied, Heimdall is under instruction to have it delivered here.” Odin looked at Loki again. “I am aware there are no such ceremonies on this realm, however, to see the marriage as binding on Asgard, we need it to be done.”

“Loki is educated on the customs and traditions of your people, including that of wedding ceremonies,” Laufey informed him. “He will also keep to your tradition of one mate but on one condition.”

Odin looked warily at Loki, who seemed somewhat unhappy with the situation himself. “And what condition is that?”

“Your daughter must bear him two sons,” Laufey insisted. “No less. As many more as they desire, but no less than two. Jotunheim requires a monarchy that is strong once more. Our females are lucky to get one successful heat in a millennium. Your kind tends to procreate with more success and regularity. If she gives him his required heirs singlehandedly, then he will not require another.

Odin was about to argue when he carefully noted his daughter give a slight nod in his peripheral vision. “Very well, neither party will take another partner if that condition is met.”

“I thought one ‘spouse’ as you call them was customary on Asgard?” Arden commented.

“It is, but were Prince Loki to see fit to have more than one in his bed, then it would only be fair my daughter be given the same right. Whichever side of their respective customs they do, both partners should be allowed the same leeway.”

“All children born to the Princess must be of my son’s blood,” Laufey stated.

“Well, all children born of your son’s blood must be born to my daughter.” Odin retorted. “There is no negotiation on this. It is seen as an insult of the highest order on our realm for a Prince or King to sire children outside of his marriage when he has a capable wife to do so.”

Laufey sighed. “Very well. I can see the reasoning for such.” He rose to his feet unsteadily and stood as tall as he could and walked weakly away from the throne. “We will dine as one grouping soon, but for now, I would think you would wish to settle into your rooms. Loki, see Princess Ella to hers.”

Reluctantly, Loki bowed his head slightly and made his way towards the princess he would have to call his. He bowed slightly again to which she curtsied to in return and followed after him, neither speaking as they did. They walked through the hallways of the Jotnar palace in silence, Ella donning a polite smile as she looked at the building around her. When Loki came to a halt outside the room that had been allocated to her for before the ceremony, she simply stood silently looking at him. “Are you permitted to speak?” He asked curiously.

Ella, thinking the question to be ridiculous, laughed slightly. “Yes, I am, Your Highness.”

“You have said nothing the whole journey here.”

“Forgive my boldness, your Highness, but neither did you.”

Loki was forced to concede the truth of her statement. “If there is an issue with your rooms, if you require anything, do not hesitate to tell someone and we will rectify such immediately.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” She curtsied and walked into the room.

Loki stood for a moment thinking of the creature he would have to have by his side. She was better looking than she should be born to Odin Allfather who he could now confirm was even less attractive in appearance than the art that depicted him would lead one to believe. She did not seem to possess the arrogance of her father or indeed her brother, perhaps there was a chance she was not entirely conceited. He could only hope.

Inside the room, Ella looked around. Everything was made of ice, though that was hardly too surprising, including the large four-poster bed in the centre of the room. On it were the fleeces and pelts of what seemed to be forty or more creatures. She did a circle of the room before looking out the window.

Jotunheim was a frozen wasteland. Its inhabitants were suffering because of the loss of their Casket. She could see that they would endure just about anything to get it back, even play host to a man they clearly loathed beyond measure, and his daughter.

#Loki #others #submission #Submitted fic #chapter 4 #wolfpawn #pride and prejudice

101 notes · View notes

epicwrites · 4 years

Text

→ GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Noah Blackwell

Age: 1000+

Occupation: CFO of Blackwell Media

Residency: Hollow Grove, MA

Species: Original Vampire

→ FAST FACTS

Eldest son of the Blackwell children, Noah is inherently over protective and feels a strong responsibility to care for and look after his siblings, even to this day.

He planned to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a blacksmith to take over the family business.

He married and had three children; two boys and one girl.

Maggie Blackwell, his older sister who was adopted into the family, was taken by a coven of witches who claimed she’d been ‘stolen’ from them originally. When Maggie refused to leave with this coven and chose the Blackwells as her family instead, the witches cursed the Blackwells with vampirism, and the vampire species was born.

Noah gave in to the curse instantly, his humanity disappearing in a flash and bodies dropping in his wake. He became exactly what the witches had wanted; a monster, a slave to blood lust, an unfeeling devil. He lost nearly 300 years in the humanity-less, blood-thirty haze.

It was Lukas that managed to bring Noah back, only when Noah had his baby brother within an inch of his life. For years after he suffered through the memories of all the lives he had taken, the loss of his family centuries prior, and the never ending guilt for what he’d become. All he could do was try to become the man he’d once been in this new world he no longer recognized.

Noah did his best to blend in with humanity, to seek other interests such as traveling and study over the wars waging in the background. He had no interest in fighting the werewolves as mortal enemies, though when they got in his way he was known to be a harsh contender.

He’s skeptical that peace will ever truly be achievable between the different species, but is always willing to hear and weigh in on the discussions. He wants the safety of Hollow Grove to be a sign of what could be their future, but he’s hesitant to believe that it’s that simple. Nothing has ever been simple for him.

Full biography below cut.

→ BIOGRAPHY

Even as a child, Noah knew he had to look out for his siblings. He was the eldest son and because of that he was responsible for each of them - even though Maggie was technically the oldest. It meant he had to try to keep Lukas on a short leash and on the right path. Joslyn was his baby sister, he had to be sure to keep her safe from anything and everything that could hurt her. When it came to Maggie; well, she was his partner in looking after the younger two...They worked together to teach their siblings the ways of their small town, how to navigate the forest around their home, how to hunt and cook and take care of themselves, read and write. Plus, he had to keep a watch over her, too. They were all his responsibility in the end of it; not to mention they were the most important thing to him in his entire life. He had to keep them safe.

Noah fell into that role well. From a young age he’d always been rather serious compared to his siblings and it helped when it came to keeping the rest of the Blackwells in line. It was only natural for him to stumble into the family business, too. He looked up to his father and wanted nothing more than to become a blacksmith alongside him. So once he was old enough to hold the hammer and start shaping the metal, he started working with his father, learning the skills of the trade. Come to think of it, his life had always been pretty much mapped out of him, hadn’t it? Not that Noah minded; He loved his family with everything he had, enjoyed the laborious but rewarding work of the blacksmith. When his parents found his ‘perfect match’, so to speak, he was at the alter and saying ‘I do’ to a woman he barely even knew at the time.

He and Dorothy were not a couple made of love. Instead, they were more of a mutually beneficial relationship. They worked together well and he enjoyed her company. Together they had three children within the span of five or so years, began raising their own little family - and he had more people to look after, a role he already had so much practice doing. Two boys and one girl, they became a bright light in his life, and he cherished them. Just as he was a strict and demanding older brother he took on a similar role over his children. He kept them in line with a stern voice but a nurturing hand.

Just as he was settling into the routine of caring for his young children and working on his own as a blacksmith, a bomb was dropped into his life that changed everything. People appeared to take Maggie from them, claiming she was their rightful property and attempting to steal her away. They said she wasn’t a Blackwell, that they were her parents, that she didn’t belong with them. Noah didn’t even question it as he stood beside his sister, ready to defend her from anything. Even if she wasn’t biologically a Blackwell, if what these people claimed was true, she was his family - and no one would take her away. Not without a fight. He had made a vow to protect his family, and Maggie was just that. She always would be.

When Maggie refused to leave with them, Noah only felt a momentary elation, because her refusal was quickly followed by the life changing curse. Vampirism. A slave to blood lust. A thirst that couldn’t be satiated. In that instant, the whole entire world flipped on its axis and went dark. The light disappeared from within him, instead replaced with an undying hunger. The only thing he knew was he had to get away, and he fled - dropping bodies in his wake across the entire world. Without his humanity, Noah just didn’t care. Time became relative, hundreds of years were lost in what seemed like a blink of an eye but also felt as if they were stretched into infinity. He didn’t love, he didn’t feel, he didn’t care. He was a slave to the blood, a killer, a monster.

He’d all but forgotten his past life when Lukas reappeared to flip everything over on him once more. It was his baby brother who made him feel again - only when Noah had him within an inch of his life. Lukas convinced Noah to return to himself and let his humanity return and along with it all of the shame and regret he felt over the past several centuries. He hadn’t even kept a count of all the bodies that had dropped at his hand, how many innocent people that he’d murdered - but he could feel the weight of each and every one of them, bearing down on his shoulders and dragging him into hell.

His wife and kids had died centuries ago thinking he’d abandoned them. He had abandoned them. For decades he walked the Earth on uneven footing, not knowing where he really fit or belonged. Even his family were only shadows of their former selves, waging war on the werewolves and fighting for power, no longer interested in the normal aspects of the life they’d once known. Noah wanted nothing to do with it. He fought the wolves that got in his way but otherwise didn’t seek to wage war with them, unlike his siblings who seemed more hungry for power and control than ever. While he knew Maggie, Joslyn, and Lukas didn’t need his help, perhaps even didn’t want it, he kept an eye on their affairs from a distance, meddling just enough to keep them from getting too deep into trouble. After all those years had past they may not be the family he once had known, but they were still his family - and he loved them now even more fiercely than before. As a boy he swore to protect them and that promise is still something he plans to keep.

Noah sought out more of the finer things in life. He chose to travel, exploring every inch of the world and beyond as new territories were discovered. He studied, absorbing what knowledge he could and trying to keep abreast of the ever evolving world. Technology advanced at startling rates, often leaving the vampire behind to catch up years later. He chose the path of blending in, assimilating with humanity but never staying in one place too long.

At the mention of peace treaties, Noah was skeptical but willing to hear the offer. If a treaty would keep his family safe and let them settle down for once, he was willing to try and strike one up. Plus, it would help to get his siblings all back in line, maybe regain some sense of control over this whole, fucked up world. But supernatural wars didn’t easily come to terms of peace, not until they were forced to because there wasn’t much of another choice. Supernatural creatures were revealed to the world and humans were in an uproar in attempts to protect themselves, droves of every species getting wiped out. The original families - vampires, werewolves, and the supreme, came together to strike the deal and protect their kinds. Hollow Grove was created as a safe haven for all supernatural kinds, and the world started to settle again.

Laying down roots isn’t Noah’s thing. He drifts in and out of Hollow Grove, preferring to live in a constant state of transition rather than letting himself get too comfortable. Even if it takes hundreds of years for things to change, he’s been burned by it far too many times to count, and he’s not willing to be caught off guard again.

#bio: noah blackwell #char: noah blackwell #v: hg #verse: hollow grove

2 notes · View notes

wolfpawn · 5 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 4

Story Summary - Based on an idea I had that I submitted to Imagine Loki. Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.

Chapter Summary - The Aesir arrive on Jotunheim.

Previous Chapter

Request if you wish to be tagged

Tags - @peppermint-j @damalseer @perpetual-fangirl @tinchentitri @inspired-snowflace @raphaelaisabella

“It’s barren,” Thor looked around them as the wind howled.

“They used the Casket to alter the terrain temperature to allow them to cultivate the land,” Ella informed him, though as she looked around, though she thought the same.

“Why would you know something like that?”

“What is?” Thor looked around half expecting to see some creature needing to be put out of its misery.

Ella took a step back as the guards around them raised their weapons for a moment before a group of Jotnar jumped down from the large ice structures around them, surrounding them on one side.

“Allfather,” Arden bowed, stepping forward.

“Where is Laufey? It is somewhat frowned upon that he would not meet us in person.” Odin demanded.

“I fear King Laufey is not faring very well today. He sends his apologies. Time is not being kind to him.” The Jotnar explained.

“Or he fears that I will not see this son of his to be fit for purpose and is currently fleeing whilst you delay me?” Odin suggested.

Odin eyed the young half-Jotnar in front of him. “You grew more than I thought you would.” He stated as he studied Loki. “Your manners require finer tuning.”

He wished he had more time to study her but all things considered, he felt it more pertinent to deal with Odin and his comment in regard to his father.

Odin eyed him again, noting that Loki focused on Ella for a moment. “An honourable man stands up for his father and family, I respect that.”

Thor and his friends looked around, their hands on their weapons throughout feeding the animosity between them and the Frost Giants.

Ella simply looked around with intrigue.

When they arrived in the palace, Laufey was sitting on his throne which startled not only the Aesir but his own people who knew him to be very weak.

Odin was shocked to see how feeble the other king looked. “Laufey.”

“Allfather, please forgive my not joining the welcome party, I am not as strong as I used to be.”

The confession of his weakness and his tone as he said it concerned Odin. “Indeed, it cannot be helped. Your sons and closest advisors did so adequately in your absence.”

Everyone gathered knew that statement to be a lie, though none of them disputed it.

“So you have the Casket here? Odd, I cannot sense it.”

Odin looked warily at Loki, who seemed somewhat unhappy with the situation himself. “And what condition is that?”

Odin was about to argue when he carefully noted his daughter give a slight nod in his peripheral vision. “Very well, neither party will take another partner if that condition is met.”

“I thought one ‘spouse’ as you call them was customary on Asgard?” Arden commented.

“All children born to the Princess must be of my son’s blood,” Laufey stated.

Ella, thinking the question to be ridiculous, laughed slightly. “Yes, I am, Your Highness.”

“You have said nothing the whole journey here.”

“Forgive my boldness, your Highness, but neither did you.”

Loki was forced to concede the truth of her statement. “If there is an issue with your rooms, if you require anything, do not hesitate to tell someone and we will rectify such immediately.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” She curtsied and walked into the room.

#pride and prejudice #Chapter 4 #wolfpawn #loki fic

36 notes · View notes

ablanariwho · 5 years

Text

Yashoda And Kaikeyi – Fantasy vs Reality Of A Step Mother

Are stepmoms really evil or are they simply victims of circumstances in a patriarchal society?

Disclaimer: This post talks about those women who do not have a say in marrying a widower or divorcee with children. However, those who chose to be a second wife or a step mother, may or may not relate to some parts of this post It is not intended to malign any individual, but highlight the plight of women in a patriarchal society where stepmotherhood is imposed on them and then they are judged for not being able to love their step children like a real mother.

She was standing in front of her new home. There was no one at the door to receive her. No floral decoration, no banana tree branches flanking both sides of the door with decorative earthen holy pots at its feet; no gathering of married women, led by a mother-in-law, waiting happily with anxious anticipation to receive her with all the customary preparations. There was no shehnai playing in the background, no uludhwani to welcome her.

She slowly and hesitantly pushed the half open door with her palm. There was no sacred brass pot kept at the threshold of the main entrance of the house, filled with a heap of rice over its brim that a new bride is supposed to gently tumble down by her toes before stepping in. There was no platter of water mixed with ‘Álta’ (a red dye Indian women, especially Bengali married women use to paint the sides of their feet) in which a new bride is supposed to dip her feet and then walk inside, stepping onto a new cloth rolled out on the floor, leaving her footprint on it, symbolizing the arrival of ‘Lakshmi’ – the goddess of wealth .

She knocked at the door. A young adolescent boy came out. He was, at first, a little startled to see her there. But he did not ask her who she was. He guessed who she could be. The fresh sindoor along the woman’s hair parting was enough introduction. The woman did not miss to notice the awkwardness, the slight shadow of resentment mixed with a tinge of sadness in his eyes. She tried to smile and slowly and shyly asked, “You are the eldest one, right?” The teenager nodded and then turning his gaze towards the floor, said in a low voice, “Please come in.”

She stepped into her new home.

Illustration by Vidya Bhamre

Arrangement of convenience

She was the second wife of a middle-aged man – a widower with half a dozen children. All those matrimonial rituals to receive a new bride into her marital home were not meant or required for her. Her marriage took place over the tragic incidence of the untimely death of the man’s previous wife. Hence, there was no celebration. In some cases, a second wife may arrive after a sad separation with the first one. In that case, some ceremonies may still happen. But in this case, there was none. Her marriage was truly an ‘’arrangement of convenience’’ without all these frills. The man in his early forties needed a woman firstly to manage his household and family of half a dozen children aged between 6 months and 16 years and secondly as his spouse and companion.

The average looking, slightly dark-complexioned woman, much younger than the man she had just got married to, came from a poor family. They could not get her married to an eligible bachelor. When they received this proposal, they were more than happy to give away their daughter’s hand to him. There was no demand for dowry, jewelry or anything. The only pre-condition and expectation was that the woman would readily accept the role of a ‘mother’ and deliver the responsibility of nurturing a big family of children left by the previous wife of the man, besides playing other roles of a new life-partner to him. The woman had no choice or say in this arrangement. She accepted it as she knew it was always better to be someone’s wife than spending all her life as a single, unmarried woman in her maiden home, depending on her poor father or brothers. She knew, that wouldn’t be a much honorable life.

The woman, who arrived alone without any ceremonious reception, died after spending around five decades of her life in that home. She did not have her own children. She took care of the six children of her husband’s previous marriage. I could see her depart as a sad, defeated, unfulfilled soul. The boy, who received her on her arrival for the first time, did the funeral rites. He was in his fifties by then. As per Hindu norms, a son is supposed to shave off his head as a mark of respect and a part of the last rites of his parents. In this case, the priest conducting the ceremony said a stepmother is not entitled to that right by the scriptures. Today, there is no photograph of the woman in his house. The photograph of his own late mother sits rightfully next to his late father’s photo. The stepmother, the second wife, the childless woman is remembered and still criticized only for all her frailties and misdeeds and nothing else. After all she was a stepmother.

Can 'motherhood' be imposed?

This has happened with scores of women. They were picked up from underprivileged circumstances and right away assigned to the responsibility of a ‘Mother’ – the most important and difficult job of parenting. Her age gap with the step children, mental maturity or emotional strength, nothing was considered to check if she was fit for this role or not. In case of stepmothers, the complexities of parenting are further compounded. Hence, it should be thought about more.

Has society ever spared any thought on this? I don’t think so.

Painting by Raja Ravi Verma of Yashoda adorning baby Krishna

Source: Wikipedia

Is motherhood misunderstood?

Despite having heard scores of stories of stepmothers being bad to their stepchildren, men, while bringing a stepmother in their children’s lives, prefer to believe that in their personal cases, she would definitely and unfailingly turn out to be a divine “Yashoda” and not a cunning and jealous “Kaikeyi”! They have no choice but the need to justify and base their decision to marry again on this belief and hope. Many a times, this belief makes them turn a blind eye to the reality of a woman’s psychological and emotional complexities in raising a stepchild. They end up never realizing the fact that their second wives could never really replicate a “Yashoda” and love the children of their husband’s first wives same as their own biological offspring.

This proves, patriarchal society has not understood motherhood in its true sense or from the perspective of a woman. It has either over-hyped it or downplayed it. In one hand it has deified motherhood. On the other hand, it has taken motherhood, so much for granted. It doesn’t understand that a woman, just for being a woman, does not have an obligation or instant inclination to feel motherly towards anyone she is expected to or asked to, especially towards stepchildren.

In most of the cases, quite naturally, a stepmother fails this humongous expectation of the society and thus, earns the bad reputation of a stereo-typical ‘stepmother’. Despite serving this difficult role, most of the time not as their own choice, step mothers carry this tag of evil human beings, through-out ages in folktales, mythological stories or epics, worldwide, barring exceptions such as one “Yashoda” in the Mahabharata. (She was not a stepmother though; she was a foster mother who raised and took care of Krishna for a while without knowing that he was not born out of her womb).

In one hand, the society labels a stepmother negatively. It does not understand her predicament. On the other hand, it casually imposes the unrealistic high expectation of being Yashoda on them which requires almost divine power to overcome all ordinary limitations of human emotions. This is unfair and an example of mindless double standard applied by the patriarchal society on women.

I think this happens due to the following reasons:

1) Ignorance, lack of insight and awareness of the society (read men) about female psychology, her sexuality, her motherhood, her emotional complexities.

Being male, men do not have the direct experience of bearing and giving birth to children. That makes them incapable of experiencing firsthand what motherhood is in terms of physical and emotional attachment with the child from the day of conception. They do not, hence, realize how difficult it is for a woman to love and care for a child, who is not her own, with whom she does not have that intimate physical and emotional connection to develop the sense of belonging and bonding. If it would have been so easy to mother children, not one’s own, there would not have been so many orphan children in the world, waiting to be adopted.

2) Women widowed or divorced, especially with children, cannot marry second or third time as easily as men. Hence, men hardly get the chance to experience what is it to be a stepfather. It restricts their ability to put themselves in the shoes of a stepmother and imagine what or how she feels like towards her stepchildren.

All over the world, it has always been much easier for widowed, divorced or separated men with children, to marry second or third time, same age or much younger women. Society, legal and religious systems, predominantly patriarchal, have always been favorable to men in this matter, in the pretext of his legitimate need for a companion and a wife to manage his household and children.

This is not the case for women, who are widowed or divorced and have children with them from previous wedlock, left behind or deserted by their fathers. Marriage is not a socially acceptable solution for them for the same reason – need for a companion and support to raise her kids and run the household. Women in such situation, rarely marry for the second or third time. Hence, men hardly get the chance to experience how it feels to take the role of a father of his wife’s children from her previous marriage. There is no popular male role model, idol, example, inspiration or reference point either for them to emulate, such as there is ‘Yashoda’ for women.

3) Men do not understand how stepchildren can remind a woman of her husband’s intimate relationship with his first wife and can make her feel extremely jealous and angry.

It is natural to feel jealous for a woman about their spouse ’s or partner’s ex. This sense of jealousy often manifests into angry, apathetic and unjust behavior with the child who was born out of another relationship of one’s partner.

To sum up, society never thought how emotionally challenging and draining it could be for women to be stepmothers. It just takes advantage of women’s underprivileged and weaker position in the society (especially in Indian context) and makes them play this difficult role. Most of the times they fail in it and also end up being judged and bad mouthed.

To me these women are misunderstood and sad victims of circumstances. People need to understand that and stop judging stepmothers. Mothering is considered to be exclusively subject to a woman’s own offspring. A stepmother can, at the most, be as humane as possible, if not motherly, towards the stepchildren.

At the same time the entire world, including the stepmothers, also need to realize that the stepchildren, who lost their own mothers at an early age or never received and experienced their own mother’s love and care, are the most unfortunate victims of circumstances. Rarely someone else can substitute the role of one's own mother or compensate for her absence.

Hence, patriarchy should stop fantasizing the story of Yashoda and Krishna happening in real life and expect the same from women.

#parenting #step mother #women psychology #yashoda #kaikeyi #mahabharata #ramayana #krishna #motherhood #pregnancy #female psychology

1 note · View note

blankhound · 5 years

Text

The Wrath of Bluebeard - short story based on Angela Carter’s ‘The Bloody Chamber’

A short story I wrote for my University English class last year. There is a critical component at the end explaining why I wrote this and the text it is based off. Thank you

Warnings: violence, abuse, blood, lesbianism, drunk

Everyone knew about Bluebeard. The castle where they lived loomed above us, cut off by a perilous trail that no one dared to venture. The stories were elaborate and cruel, intended to make wives obey their husbands. Fear of Bluebeard coming down from the castle in the dead of night to steal them away if they misbehaved, the horrors of what happened to those taken, never confirmed but feared greatly. No one I knew had ever seen Bluebeard, in fact the town I lived in only knew that was the castle owners name because it had been told to us by a messenger when they first brought the property, as was law for anyone planning to reside in an area with other inhabitants.

Though our fathers told us of the horrors a disobedient wife may face in the castle, secretly, in the safety of knitting and reading clubs, which no man would ever dare set foot in, our mothers and aunts told us a different story, one of hope.

The story goes that Bluebeard was only cruel to men who abused their wives, that in fact the master of the castle on the hill was kind and merciful to the abused women they saved. It’s said that if you cannot take the abuse of your husband a day longer, all you must do is pick a blue flower, paint a single petal red, leave it on your windowsill for all to see, and within the night Bluebeard will come and save you from your life.

I reflected on all of this as I painted a red petal onto an otherwise blue flower. I stained my fingers doing so, trying my best to be as precise with the tiny flower as I could. I worried that the flower was too small, that Bluebeard wouldn’t see it, wouldn’t save me. But more than that I worried it was all a lie, that I wouldn’t be saved and that my only salvation would be in the form of death, which I was greatly considering as my broken bones and bruises from last weeks beating healed.

My husband was gone for the night, which was why I chose now to lay the flower on the windowsill, when there was no chance of him seeing and disposing of it, though he would never know what it meant.

I feared my husband. When we were first wed he was kind. He offered much for my hand, for I was a beautiful young woman, perfect for producing beautiful children. But after two years he had grown distasteful. I was still beautiful under the bruising, but my body had yet to provide a child and for that he hated me. I couldn’t understand why; my body was capable, and I had been checked by the towns doctor multiple times. I once suggested that maybe the fault was his, perhaps he was unable to sire children and that was why we had yet to conceive. That was the first night he beat me.

I said a prayer over the small flower that I hoped would be my salvation as I laid it on the window, then turned and blew out the candle, laying for sleep on the bed just below the window itself.

***

When I woke I was still in my bed, with nothing different but the clear lack of the small flower. In its place rested a small egg, and with it a note. The note read,

“My dear lady, I have seen your call and wish to help, but am unable to rescue you until the night your husband returns. Please guard this egg while waiting for me for I will be back for you. With warmest love, Bluebeard.”

The writing was neat and elegant, on thick paper that smelt of lavender. It gave me hope for the future. The egg itself was small, speckled with tiny blue spots, but as I picked it up the dye from painting the flower the night before rubbed off and stained the egg with a large red spot.

I tucked the letter into my pocket, then hid the egg in a place my husband would never look, for I was sure he would break such a delicate thing as soon as he saw it, and I couldn’t risk my chance of Bluebeard saving me.

My husband came home near lunch time that day, to a meal I had spent the morning cooking, which he took one bite of only to spit it out in disgust.

“Do you wish to poison me woman! First you bear me no sons, now you serve me inedible food?!” he yelled as he beat me. His closeness made it easier for me to smell the beer on his breath, for he had clearly been to the tavern before arriving home.

I didn’t say a word, just took the beating in silence, accepting that this was to be the last one, whether I was saved or not. He split my lip and broke my face, blackening my eye, before he was satisfied I had paid my debt for the wrongs I had committed.

He went to his room, tired from the exercise, and lay down to sleep. I knew from other days that he wouldn’t awake until morning unless I made too much noise, in which case he would do worse than beat me again. I sat on my cot by the windowsill, we had sperate beds for if we did not I would never have peace from him.

***

I awoke to darkness and a looming figure above me, holding a candle towards me, blocking their face with the light.

“Do you have my egg little bird?” asked the person, a rough but kind voice.

I rushed to the hiding spot, and then hurried back to my saviour, holding the egg out to them.

They picked the up gently, holding my hands in one of their own as they did, though I noticed that our hands were almost the same size, not nearly as big as those of my husbands.

“Thank you my dear, now I have one question for you. What do you want done to your husband?” the way they spoke was kind but the way they asked the question implied violence, the type that had been inflicted onto me but worse.

I just shook my head, gesturing to the door, too frightened that this was a dream to say anything.

“In that case let us be gone, you can rest now my dear, no one will hurt you now.” They picked me up and cradled me against their body as they carried me out the door and started walking to the castle, the soft rhythm of their walking lulled me into a deep sleep.

***

I woke afraid, in an unfamiliar bed with someone sleeping calmly beside me, it took me a minute for me to realise that I had been saved. That the stories were real, and that Bluebeard had saved me from my husband in the night.

I looked at the person next to me and saw a beautiful woman, resting peacefully but no longer asleep as she had been when I awoke, instead looking up at me happily.

“How are you my dear? Would you like some breakfast?” from her mouth came the same voice as the night before, rough but not unfittingly so.

I must have looked startled because she laughed and stood, tall and broad shouldered, and held her hand out to me. “Would you like a tour?”

I nodded shyly and took her hand. As we walked she explained that she was in fact Bluebeard, a result of her husband beating her so much a blue beard of bruises was on her face for months after she escaped him. She told me about the other women that she had taken in, how most of them had left to find better lives, but some had stayed and now lived in the one of the castles many rooms, allowed to do whatever they wanted. Some had chosen to marry other women that she had rescued. She warned me against exploring the eastern bays lower levels, explaining that some women when saved had wanted their husbands punished and so that was were they resided, and also that if I ever wanted my husband could be brought here, though he would never be allowed to leave if I did. I trusted her and so agreed to stay away but couldn’t help asking if her own husband was down there, she just smiled.

I asked her what was to happen to me now and she simply said anything I wanted. I could stay and live in the castle, I could take some treasure and leave, make a life for myself, or I could choose something else, whatever I wanted.

So, I took her hand in mine and smiled, my face and body hurt from the bruises I still had but I knew now that they would heal, never again I would be beaten by my brutish husband, for now I had a protector.

And how beautiful she was.

Critical component

For my short story I chose to rewrite Angela Carter’s “The Bloody Chamber” (1995). I chose this text as I wanted to write the story in a way that Bluebeard is not a horrible monster, but someone who saves women from the real monsters of the world. I decided to make to the story not in the perspective of Bluebeard but of her “wife” much like Carter’s (1995) own story. The castles in both stories are large and impressive, isolated from anyone nearby and hard to get to, which is used to symbolise the secrets kept there, in Carter’s (1995) story the dead wives, in my own the saved wives and stolen husbands. I wrote in past tense so that it would seem like a recount of what had happened to the main character, to imply how she survived to tell the story, maybe to other helpless women or her children later in life. I referenced the staining of the key from the original story, and also referenced Margaret Attwood’s “Bluebeard’s Egg” (1999), by having the main character receive a small egg to guard, which is then stained not with blood from a past wife of Bluebeards like in the others, but with the ink that she hopes will save her. I included the forbidden area of the home in my story, much like in the originals, but unlike the originals, in which the wife disobeys to find death and sorrow, the “Bluebeard” of my story explains what is in there, instead of wives suffering the abusive husbands of women saved suffer instead. I think Carter’s (1995) and Attwood’s (1999) stories read as cautionary tales, written to be read as a warning, that you should choose your partner carefully, just in case you don’t know them as well as you think, that all men could hide something dark. I wanted my story to one of hope, that someone can always find a saviour from their situations, even if only in a story, and that sometimes the person who saves you is not who you might expect. I chose to make Bluebeard a woman to further emphasise one of the messages of both Carter’s (1995) and Attwood’s (1999) stories, that men are monsters, abusive and cruel, and that women save each other. Granted in the originals the other women, the mother in Carter’s (1995), and the sisters in Attwood’s (1999), save the wife from Bluebeard, in mine Bluebeard is the woman that saves others from their husbands. The original stories are very gory, describing the forbidden chamber as a blood bath, with dead women and blood everywhere. I chose not to do this as I believe it takes away from the story, making the reader focus on the horror of what Bluebeard had done, and therefore not remembering or focusing on how the women are saved from his cruelty. I wanted mine to focus on the freeing of the women, not on the cruelty they suffered.

#angela carter #margaret atwood #bluebeard #the bloody chamber #bluebeards egg #short story #violence #lesbian #alcohol #infertility #the wrath of bluebeard #love #salvation #death #blood #critical thinking #critical analysis #creative writting #my writing

2 notes · View notes

mrneighbourlove · 6 years

Text

Kindled Passion: Ch 7. Stolen Flame

A good month had passed. Kahli had worked hard, avoiding the glare of the Gerudo brothers glare. Even harder to learn Lorliedian wedding customs. He wanted to be perfect for Zizi, but caring for his own culture.

It was almost time to bring in the summer harvest. Over the last month, Kahli had learned everything there was to know about running his own section of a plantation. In the future, Kahli had expressed a desire to run the entire plantation to ease Zizi's burden. Grateful for the help, the Lorleidians had learned more of the Waku and were now fond of him. Despite the obvious dislike of the Dragmire family, Kahli was flourishing under the tutelege of the Zemljas. Today, he was helping Zizi manage the intake of plants. Recording the yield of each and every plant was a pain, but it had to be done properly for exports. It was a hot day, the sun bearing down on the workers as carts were loaded to take to the ports. Usually, Zizi was full of energy, but this afternoon, she felt... odd. Huffing, Zizi took the papers and started fanning her face.

“Zizi? Are you alright? You seem tense.”

"Sorry, Kahli..." Zizi set down the papers and ran her hands down her face. She looked a little green and sweating more so than usual. Taking some water from the pail, Zizi splashed it on her face and neck, trying to cool off a bit. "I'm just... just so hot. Maybe yesterday, I got dehydrated..."

“I’ll call a doctor.” Kahli walked around to ask another work to grab some help.

Naira, the Dusa from the children's hospital, arrived at the plantation at the call for help. She was expecting an accidental cut from a scythe or perhaps a sprained ankle, yet the Waku told her it was Zizi. The Zemlja was not feeling well. Taking Zizi aside into one of the tents, Naira was a touch concerned.

"You're burning up." Naira told Zizi as she pressed a cool rag to her head. "Lorleidians do not get sick so easily. Is there anything you've done differently lately?"

"No, not lately."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Well... um..." Zizi then cleared her throat and then admitted with a sheepish smile. "Kahli and I have been more known... intimately."

Kahli looked out over the landscape, avoiding any stares. The marks he left on Zizi still hadn’t healed, mostly because of more then one session.

After a half hour or so, Naira left the tent. Assuring Kahli that Zizi merely needed to rest, and heal from the vigorous love making. The healer, in not so subtle words, expressed to Kahli it was probably a good idea for the two of them to refrain from roughness until Zizi's body had adequate time to recover. Naira figured she would want to deliver the news to her lover.

Inside of the tent, Zizi relaxed on one of the cots. This was an unexcepted surprise, but not an unwelcome one. The Zemlja always thought that Zarazu or Zolori would be first to have children, but... it was going to be her. In a little less than eight months, Zizi was going to have a baby... her baby... Kahli's baby.

Kahli went back to her. “What was it she prescribed about you?”

"Naira told me I needed to stay hydrated and to rest for a few days." Zizi sat up on the cot, knowing she would have to tell Kahli of the news. "Naira also told me that we're going to have company very soon."

Taking Kahli's hand, Zizi felt hesitant. She was not sure how he would react to this news, especially so soon in their relationship. Either way, this was her child and she would make sure the babe was loved. "Soon... it will not be just the two of us."

Placing his clawed hand on her stomach, the Zemlja looked into her eyes, hopeful and a bit nervous.

Kahli’s blackened pupils expanded in utter shock. His mouth hung open, chocking on air. His body actually became cold for a moment. “That’s....”

Fatherhood. He was going to become a father. He was going to acquire a mantle of manhood. For Hasai manhood was achieved through a grand hunt, conquering land, or achieving the status of a parent.

His heat came back as he eased his initial shock, his other hand caressing her face. “That’s the best news...I have ever heard.”

Zizi breathed a sigh of relief at Kahli's words. Why was she worrying about such a thing? Kahli said he loved her, wanted to be with her. He spoke of the future, wanted a family. Sure, this was a little soon, but... sometimes life did not go as planned, it rarely ever did. Maybe a little one was what the two of them needed. It was very well a blessing, and Zizi decided to treat it as such.

"Naira said I'm only a few weeks along at most, maybe a little more." Zizi told Kahli as she held his hand to her face. "After winter, our little one will be here... our son."

“A...a son?”

"Dusas have the ability with magic to tell whether the child is going to be a boy or a girl." Zizi explained with a bright smile. "Naira told me he's doing very well, and has a strong heartbeat. And for some reason, he's giving me hot flashes." She laughed lightly with a shake of her head. "That's why I was sweating so badly."

Kahli hugged her for a moment, before pulling away and kissing her. “We need to tell your sisters.”

"Yes, tell them they're going to be aunts." Zizi agreed, knowing her sisters would be excited to have another addition to the family. "Zarazu will no doubt start sewing a horde of clothing for our boy and Zolori, despite her demeanor, really does love tiny babies. I'm sure she'll want to babysit at some point. Though we can tell them later... for now, I think I'll take Naira's instructions to heart and simply rest a while."

“Alright...I’ll stay with you.”

As Kahli rested beside her, Klinge had heard everything, going about his daily check on her. Heading back to the castle, he merely strolled through the castle. This would be neutral news. Good to Zarazu, horrid for Covarog. Would be interesting to see. Opening the door to their office, he cleared he throat. Seemed Covarog and Zarazu were making out on the desk. Three minutes later and it would have been inappropriate to intervene. “My lordships. I have delicate news to report.”

"EEK!" Zarazu squeaked when Klinge opened the door, almost halfway to indecent. Her face turned a blood red, seeing that Covarog had her dress hiked up to her hips. It was not unusual for the king and queen to be frisky in the middle of the day. She expressed embarrassment while Covarog seemed annoyed.

"After all these years, you haven't learned how to knock?" Covarog grumbled under his breath, not happy about this interuption. "Can these delicate news not wait until I'm done with my queen?"

"Covarog, get off." Zarazu scolded him as she pushed at his chest and then stood, clearing her throat, still blushing. "Klinge... what is this news we must know?"

Klinge decided to simply be blunt. The King and Queen could save baby making for later.

“Zarazu. You’re sister, Zizi, is expecting a baby.”

"... WHAT?!" This time, Zarazu was the one to lose composure, just briefly. "Zizi?! She's not... how..." Her mind instantly turned to the one man who she knew fancied her little sister. Taking a breath, the queen did her best to steady her nerves. In her mind, Zizi was always going to be her baby sister. Yet, Zizi was grown and now a woman. She was able to make her own decisions. There had to be a positive side to this. "... Kahli is the father, isn't he?"

"What in the hell was your sister thinking?!" Covarog asked his wife, not happy at all about the situation. "That bastard is a Hasai!!! An enemy of Hyrule!"

"Kahli has done nothing to give us reason that he is an enemy." Zarazu did her best to keep calm. "He has caused no trouble, despite what happened in the dungeon. Zizi has assured me multiple times that his intentions are sincere."

"Zizi would say a Manticore had good intentions!" Covarog argued. "Pray tell, Zarazu, what are you going to do if he is an enemy? A spy? Someone who was just looking to hurt your sister or our family?"

"Easy." Zarazu took a steady breath and pulled her long hair back into a tail. She needed to speak with her sister. "I'll kill him myself." She looked to Klinge. "Please escort me to my sister."

Klinge simply nodded. “Of course.”

Back at the camp, Kahli braided Zizi’s hair, forming her dreadlocks into a bun. “I can’t believe I’m already thinking of names for him.”

"Kahli, we have at least eight more months to go." Zizi laughed as her lover fixed the dreads. "We have plenty of time to think of names, but first... I think it would be nice if we could..." Her face flushed a little. "I mean... if you want to... we would need.... to get..." Her words were a little quiet. "M-Married?"

He nodded rather tamely. “I’ve....been asking around about your tribes culture on how to purpose...”

"There are different ways that Lorleidian men express interest to their chosen partner." Zizi told Kahli with a soft smile. "Some build their lover a house as a way to propose, some present a rare gift, others say a declaration in front of others... it really depends on the couple. Though you do not have to do any of those if it doesn't suit your culture." She looked at him. "I want to respect the Waku traditions as well."

Kahli chuckles to himself. “My culture has been heavily lost to destruction. And Hasai traditions are...well it’s safe to say I don’t think you’d like it if I burned a picture in the side of a mountain, or killed a beast in your name.”

"... yeah, let's just keep things simple." Zizi was not overly fond of the ideas, but did not want to insult his culture. "How about this? We'll just do our own ceremony the way we want it. We don't have to follow any of the Lorleidian traditions if you do not wish to do so." The Zemlja told Kahli as she interlocked her fingers with his. "You are my adanata... my other half, the missing piece of my soul. No matter what happens, as long as we are together."

“Then I simply ask you to marry me.”

"Of course I'll marry you." Zizi leaned, kissing him on the lips and then flushed again, but this time, due to another hot flash. "I think our son is already showing signs of using fire. I will certainly have to learn more about Waku physiology." She then asked. "Would you mind getting me some more water?"

“Of course.” He turns to see Zarazu and the bastard Covarog arrive. He does his best to ignore them as he grabs Zizi her desired water.

Zizi saw her sister and brother-in-law arriving, knowing that look on Zarazu's face. Something told Zizi that a particular imp had shared intimate news... or maybe it was one of the guards. She was not sure. The Zemlja decided that she was going to have a long talk with Skull Kid about privacy.

"Zizi?" Zarazu was not quite sure why her sister was in one of the medical tents. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm all right, just got a little dehydrated. You know how it goes when you're out in the sun all day."

"Well, if you have a moment, I'd like to talk to you." Zarazu eyed Kahli walking out of the tent, her husband, then the commander. "Privately."

Kahli took a cauldron of water, adjusting its temperature to a medium degree. Klinge simply stood guard outside the tent, getting the message from his queen.

Covarog wanted to go inside the tent alongside his wife, but understood it was probably best to simply wait. This was between sisters. While the king was concerned for Zizi's sake, he did not want to upset his queen with angry words. So he would patiently wait outside, keeping a watchful eye on the Hasai.

"... you know about Kahli and I, don't you?" Zizi asked her elder sister quietly. "Are you here to tell me that you're disappointed?"

"No. No, I'm not." Zarazu sat down beside of Zizi. "I want you to be happy, Zizi. I really do."

"Then why do you look so upset?"

"... a little bird told me you were pregnant."

"...?! Who told you?"

"It doesn't matter, what matters is that this changes a few things, Zizi." Zarazu tried to chose her words carefully. "I want you and the baby to be healthy and safe. I believe Kahli doesn't intend any harm to you, however, I'm worried."

"About what?"

"I'm worried about the possibility of this being used against our family. I don't want anyone to hurt you or the baby because of Kahli being a Hasai."

"Why would they do that? Everyone on the plantations love him."

"I'm not referring to Lorleidians, Zizi... I'm thinking of the Hylians. What the Dragmire’s went through with Kanisa being kidnapped."

"... then what do you suggest I do?" Zizi asked Zarazu. "I love Kahli. I make no plans of leaving his side and I sincerely believes he cares for me."

"I... I only want you to be careful." Zarazu took her sisters' hands and kissed her knuckles. "You're my baby sister. I love you and want you to be safe."

Kahli walked towards the tent with the water. Klinge raised a hand. “The Queen is not ready for you.”

“This water isn’t for me.”

“And I have my order.”

Kahli was not going to deal with this bullshit anymore.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way. My pregnant wife needs this water.”

That struck an old cord with Klinge, and how, for a brief moment, he too was an upcoming father. It pained him to think on his curse of undeath. Against the wishes of his Queen and King, he moved to the side.

Kahli walked into the tent, setting the water down. “How’s your fever?”

"Fever?" Zarazu inquired with an arched eyebrow.

"Heh... I think our boy is going to be a flame baby." Zizi said to her sister as she took the water from Kahli. "He's giving me hot flashes, making me feverish."

"I see." Zarazu created a smooth block of ice in her hands and then wrapped it in one of the available cloths. Pressing it against Zizi's forehead, her sister sighed in contentment at the coolness. "Do you need an ice bath?"

"No, no... this is fine." Zizi assured her sister. "It feels nice."

"A boy, huh? I'm going to have a nephew."

"Yes, a little fighter."

“We’ll hopefully be married before he arrives.”

"Married... well, you two will have to have a suitable living quarters." Zarazu told Kahli with a small smile. "I'm sure we can arrange for a house to be built among the plantations."

"One thing at a time." Zizi assured her sister. "For now, I need to rest for a bit. Don't want to tax the little one."

“Thank you Zarazu.”

Klinge motioned for his queen to take their leave. It was obvious the couple wanted to be alone.

"I know that there may be harsher times in the future, a few obstacles to overcomes... but I will do my best to help you." Zarazu promised Kahli. "I just ask... that you have patience." Taking Covarog's arm, Zarazu saw that her husband saw nothing but had a hard stare. It was rather obvious he was not happy with the ordeal. "Come, love... let's leave them to talk."

As they drove back, even Klinge made a lighter comment. “Come Covarog. Even I, after all this time, see little danger. He’s even having a baby...”

"I'm not worried about the child, I'm worried about someone attacking Zizi because of it." Covarog remarked. "I don't want her hurt."

“Covarog, I think-“ A pause. There was a sound. The sound of mechanical footsteps heading toward the plantations. A sound that made Klinge turn the cart around as soon as it’s horror reconnected to his mind.

Back in the tent, Zizi finished the water as Kahli held the makeshift ice pack to her head.

At the tent Kahli was preparing lunch when he heard the sound. It slowly drew closer. He didn’t quite recognize it right away, but it felt faint in the back of his memory. “What...what is that noise?”

"...? I don't know." Zizi heard the clanking, thinking it sounded like one of the mechanical engines from Danjur. "Is someone wearing heavy armor? Or maybe one of Corsaire's mechanical... oh... what did Orana call it? Steam engines?"

Sensing Klinge's sudden apprehension, Zarazu looked at her general.

"What's wrong?"

Klinge looked to Covarog. Perhaps the fear of the Hasai was correct afterall.

After a few moments, the sound stopped.

Kahli stood on guard. “Something feels wrong...”

Suddenly, bursting from the roof, landed the source of the sound. A large seven foot tall android made his appearance. It was white as snow with a slick domed head, the centre holding a single eye. It’s legs held talons that allowed it to walk up any surface, and sharp claws on its hands. Whipping around with surprising speed and grace, it grabbed Zizi, administrating a dose of paralysis from its fingers.

“Observation: Target in reach.”

Kahli raised his palm to strike fire at the mysterious Android, only for it to make a sudden squat. At this level it administrated a devastating punch, almost annihilating a kidney. Kahli fell as pain over took him.

Looming over Zizi, the Android picked her up effortlessly with one arm. “Introduction: I am T0-D. I am here to take you to your new home.”

It walked with her to the roof, seemingly no where to go.

Klinge arrived with Covarog, and they laid eyes once again on one of the deadliest killers the Kikai Empire ever had. The same machine that Covarog failed as a child to stop Kanisa’s kidnaping. The same one Klinge fought in a duel to the death to cover Zelda in the final stage of the old war.

Zizi had no time to react. As soon as the drug was introduced to her system, she was limp and out cold. Her green eyes went wide and then slipped shut, confusion and terror written on her face. As the android left the tent, Zarazu saw Zizi in the machine's clutches. Rushing toward the android, the Lorleidian queen was screaming for her little sister.

"Let her go!!!" Zarazu could not outright obliterate the android, lest she risk hitting Zizi. She formed ice underneath its feet, causing it to slip. Using her magic, she coated the android in a thick layer of ice trying to pin it to the ground. "Covarog! Klinge! Get Zizi!!!"

Covarog brought out a sword and began hacking at the android's arm. It had a whole arm wrapped around Zizi, and he had to get her free. When the blade did not work, he tried to pull her free, straining against the metal.

“Query: Why have I fallen?”

Looking at them his eye glowed from blue to a frightening display of red, and a beam of plasma shot out at his attackers. It was hot enough to melt just enough ice for him to break out using the force of his legs and free arm. His mechanical strength smack Covarog away with a right hook as he stood up. Activating the talons on his feet, T0-D made sure to not fall on the ice again.

As Klinge prepared to attack, a shadow loomed over. A dragon flew overhead, breathing fire at Zarazu and Covarog so they would keep back. It was not like animalistic Hylian or common Lorliedian dragons. It lacked wings, a round body or heavy scales. It was long like a serpent, with only two arms to give it anything to grasp. Two long whiskers sprouted from his face, with a flaming main to give it an intimidating figure. “Away with you.“

T0-D climbed onto its back with Zizi, and with a roar, the Dragon took off into the heavens.

Covarog saw the dragon and tackled Zarazu out of the way. The two rolled across the ground, away from the danger of the flames. This was not a Lorleidian dragon, nor a native species of Hyrule. Scrambling to her feet, Zarazu was not about to let it leave with her sister. As it started to take off, she hurled a spear of ice at the dragon's belly.

The dragon dashed around like a lightning bolt away from her shot, roaring at the other dragons that he had broken through Hyrule under their watch. With that he zoomed back to his home land.

Kahli groaned as he walked out, his body still in incredible pain.

“N-no. Zizi.”

"Klinge!!!" Zarazu ordered her commander. "I want forces ready to follow that dragon! I want it dead and I want that android in pieces beneath my feet!!!" She was enraged, the air feeling cold around her. Tromping over to Kahli, she wanted to throttle him. It was not his fault, but he knew there was a chance of this happening. Someone had to come after him, yet he never said a word about a robot or a feral dragon. Kahli was hurt, but he was still conscious. "And you..." Zarazu grasped him by the shirt. "Are going to give me some answers..."

"Zarazu, that... that was one of the same machines that kidnapped Kanisa years ago." The king told his wife. "We are going to need Kovinas to warp the metal out of shape so they will not be able to attack us. I will contact the guards."

“Zarazu. I have no idea why they came for Zizi and not me.”

"You must know something, they took my sister!!!" Zarazu nearly shouted, her composure barely holding together by a thread. "Why would they take her? Is this revenge?! You say you haven't had any contact with the Kikai Empire for years, but I need you to think!" She nearly shook him, tears brimming at her eyes. "Why would they take Zizi of all people?! She's never done anything for them, she's just a herbalist for spirit's sake!!! She grows plants, she hates fighting, she's never done anything wrong!"

“I don’t know Zarazu. If it was another attack against me, then they would have just killed me instead of trying to emotionally hurt me. They must have a need for her. Something only she can do for them.”

Zarazu was lost. Her sister had just been taken and she could not release her full potential of magic without the risk of hurting Zizi. She needed answers, she had to go after that abombination that took her. This entire time, Klinge had not moved. He had not said a word. Was the great commander in shock?

"Klinge... your queen gave you an order. Why are you not moving?" Zarazu's words were coolly spoken. "I know you have fought these things before. We will need your help."

"Let's gather our forces to go and get Zizi back." Covarog told his wife, leading her away from Kahli and the commander. "We need to get Ralnor's reports of the area as well."

"... get Kahli some help as well." Zarazu motioned for some of the workers to help Kahli walk properly. "Bring him to the castle for treatment. I won't have Zizi's son without a father."

Klinge slowly turned to Kahli. Losing ones wife like that, so quickly, he froze with post traumatic flashbacks hitting him. “What do you need?”

Kahli brushes the workers off. “I need a skilled Vatra, preferably your Zolori, and a fire dragon of your people.”

"If you think you're going anywhere with that kind of injury, you are wrong." Zarazu told Kahli firmly. "You can die from that wound. I will not have Zizi losing you, nor your unborn child. If you are so stupid to think you'll last like that, then you're solely mistaken. Treatment, then I'll get you what is required. We are going to get my sister back."

#ridersoftheapocalypse #crossover #Zizi #Kahli #Hasai #lorleidian #ATOTR U #Hope you enjoy.

20 notes · View notes