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#I mean a sword should have a concerning name but it's not supposed to make you feel sorry for the owner right?

venusiansilk · 1 month

Text

⋆˙⟢ PARAGON OF REVERENCE.

you want to run away with xavier.

f!reader ⊹ canon-divergent au ⊹ fluff. light angst ⊹ 0.7k ⊹ knight!xavier x princess!reader ⊹ footnote. a song fic based on ᝰ forever always / zeph req by anonie. i hope you like it.

꒰ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ! ꒱

sometimes xavier wonders what he means to you, what impact his eternal devotion carries in your heart.

he wonders how much it weighs in your sternum. as your knight, all that enters his realm of concern is both your safety and your joy. yes, he lives for the birth of your elation bred from the security he ensures — a hand in yours or a hand drawing his sword in your name. he isn’t supposed to love you, but before he’s a knight, he’s only a man. honorable in truth, but still, a man comprised of flaws.

loyal but indulgent. fierce but impulsive. reliable but irrational. calm but reactive. although, for you, all xavier needs is the strength he carries inspired by his vow to you to be a knight who excels at his position and can be trusted to be at his post: by your side. and you, his forbidden awestricken lover with your honeysuckle heart bleeding the sweetest nectar over everything. what else is he supposed to do aside love you?

from your intellect to your unyielding curiosity, xavier’s grown to adore every aspect of you he observes. even when you make his blood boil, he wants to release his frustration by pressing feathery kisses to each of your knuckles. he can’t help but love you. to every question he raises, you’re the answer he finds. “princess,” xavier calls. he enters your room, voice pointed as your honorific rolls casually from his lips. you hum weakly in response. he finds you standing soundless in front of your large, bay window, looking out at the structures of the kingdom below. his obvious frustration is disregarded for the likes of pensiveness. his tone softens at the sight. “i’m…told you refuse to see your father.” “mm, that’s right,” you say distantly. “he seeks to absolve his crimes against the lemurians by marrying me off to their king. a direct line of power to lay this conflict to rest with no consequence.” xavier listens to every word you say, but you pierce a hook right through his chest when the word marrying slips out of your lips. he didn’t hear any rumors floating around and he devoutly listens for them with the same diligence that he uses to wait for your word. his frustration dies on his breath, now replaced by a swelling ache swaddling his ribs. “i refuse.” you seethe, finally turning to face xavier with teary eyes. “for obvious reasons, i can’t bring myself to marry another man that isn’t you.” despite the weight of the truth being the dagger lodged in his throat, xavier speaks to you softly. “come here, princess.” and you do, picking up the fabric of your attire to drag your bare soles over to him, your perfect lips set in a pout, his yearning to set them straight screeching inside him.

when you’re within reach, he gently cups your cheeks. an exalting and loving smile molds his lips to mask the way his heart collapses to the floor and shatters in glassy descent. “i’m your knight first. and your lover last.” xavier’s somber reminder as he presses tender kisses against your lips. “maybe we should accept this.” ignoring him, you speak as if he hasn’t. “unless we leave this kingdom, all we’ll have is this. with or without him, i want to have you, but i don’t want to put you in harm’s way. if we leave together, my father will most assuredly put a bounty on your head.” your voice shimmers with love, a solemn vow spoken with promise and fear all in one breath. he grins, bittersweet and ardent, staring into your cosmic eyes, watching stars shoot across your irises and wishing for the space to love you well. “uluru,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against yours. your noses brush. “uluru?” “we said if we ever eloped, we’d spend the rest of our lives there.” xavier's knuckles graze your cheek as he declares, “i’ll pay any cost there is to keep you. if you say you want to go, we’ll go. but if we go, we can’t look back. be sure this is really what you want.” because this is all he’ll ever want: to be hopelessly dedicated to you, a paragon of reverence. his heart belongs to you, for all of eternity. in this life and his next. you smile, delicate and doting, softly declaring, “i'm ready to go when you are.”

i don’t think my love will ever start to fade. my attachment to you isn’t subject to change. my heart’s yours, forever and always.

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aemondsprincesss · 1 year

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Can we get the dragon reader to spit fire lol? Like more of her protective side maybe towards aemond?

Yes!

This happened on the day that the court finally found out what you really are! A little more than half a year later. By the time you were more... clingy (you all better know what I mean!).

Aemond left you with Helaena. She decided to try and teach you how to embroider, since you like to watch her do it (actually you just love the colorful strings). Aemond saw no harm in it, and decided to leave you two to it. It had been to long since he last trained so he decided to kill one hour in the training yard.

A few minutes in the training with Ser Criston, that was, as always, brandishing his morningstar with brutal skill, Aemond heard a inhuman screeching roar. The sound cutting the air and piercing his ears almost painfully, only to be swallowed by the roaring of fire.

You had become restless as soon as Aemond left. Helaena knows that you are not supposed to walk the castle in day light without Aemond, but you were not listening to her and wanted to go find him. Without options and fearing your crescent frustration, she took you to him.

Looking back, Aemond saw you at one of the balconies. You were standing on top of the parapet, your head throwed back, your flames aimed to the sky.

His sister was behind you with her head between her hands and eyes closed thightly.

The ladies, lords and guards that were watching the match, and a few servants that were working nearby, also turned, horrified. And while the nobles and servants ran to safety, the guards drew their swords. Aemond commanded them to lower it immediately, throwing his to the ground. They hesitated. Minus Ser Criston, that already knew about you and lowered his weapon as soon as Aemond did.

You jumped from the parapet with effortless grace and landed on the muddy ground on your feet. The height would be enough to break the bones of any human.

Seeing your eyes trained on Ser Criston with predatory attention, while you approached slowly, steam coming out your mouth and nostrils, fire burning in your chest, Aemond understood what you thought that was happening. You thought that he was hurting Aemond.

He stood in front of Ser Criston and threatened the guards saying that if they wished to live, they should drop their swords, because even if they survived you, they would die by his hand for attacking you. This convinced them.

In all this time, Aemond did not take his eye from you.

He called your name (yes you have a name, he gave it to you) and told you to calm down in high valyrian. Aemond could see that you became confused, hesitating, but was still hostile.

Still shielding his mentor from your murdering gaze and line of fire, he ordered the men to bend the knee. Anything to make them look less threatening in your eyes, they obeyed nervously.

Aemond began to walk in your direction. Never stopping the calming words of reassurance. Saying that he was ok. That he and Ser Criston were just play fighting like you two do sometimes.

Once he was close enough to touch, you holded his biceps and began to scent him, looking for injuries with a worried expression. And even if the situation was the worse, he could not stop himself from melting inside with your concern.

When you didn’t find any injuries, you hugged him. He hugged you back, cooing and caressing your neck and back. Reassuring you that everything was ok.

Actually it wasn’t. A lot of people saw what you did and found out that you are not human. Surely the word would spread quickly and his mother and grandfather would be mad. But he would take care of everything. You are worth it.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

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#aemond targaryen x dragon!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic

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zgvlt · 2 years

Text

where loyalty lies trey clover x reader

summary: Sir Trey Clover, an ordinary commoner if not for his title, has been reassigned as your personal knight. Although he was mostly concerned with doing his job properly, certain situations lead to him liking you more than society dictates he should. However, you seem to be hiding something.

author's note: trying something new. not intended to be period accurate, though heavy inspiration from the georgian era, specifically regency

tags: gender neutral reader (only you is used), sfw, fluff, knight x nobility, commoner x nobility, 15.1k+ words

you can also read this on AO3 sequel now up!

You were not the noble he wished to serve.

If he were to so much as speak his thoughts out loud, although he would never, he knew it would cause great offense to not only you but your entire family; would earn him a reputation as an ungrateful scoundrel; would expectedly land him a form of punishment; would most likely cause his second reassignment of the year, bringing his own family into shame. Those consequences, however, were hardly worth thinking about when he had no intention of saying what could be wrongly interpreted as treason at worst, stupidity at best.

You were born of a respectable family, one native to the Queendom of Roses, a family which for the last four or five generations had been rising into property and gentility. You had received good education in your youth, one appropriate for your status and far better than most parents of lesser upbringing could secure for their children; and had seemed to make use of your learnings well, painting the image of the noble house’s most dutiful firstborn. By all means you were a most respectable person, favored and important.

Trey Clover, commoner without title if not for his ascent to knighthood, equally dutiful firstborn to his mother and father, was known to be a quiet, peaceful, reliable man who simply did as he was instructed—he has been called boring too, though he was hardly in a position to care for such a reputation—and with all those qualities, he made for a good knight. Good, but not excellent, for an excellent knight would swear loyalty without hesitance, an undisputed oath of allegiance, but in his heart of hearts he knew he would not mean it. That knight’s oath had been meant for someone else.

Loyalty laid not in words so he was willing to give it up all the same; but you had interrupted him before he could so much as speak the first words, gesturing him to stop with an elegant wave of the hand.

“I do not need you to swear upon the Queen or anything of the sort,” he was told by you, quiet as to not attract the attention of your guardians and attendants who awaited outside, but firm to indicate you wanted no protests. “Simply do your work as my knight during your time in our estate. That is all that will be asked of you.”

It is an unheard of request, thought Sir Trey, for would it not be a part of his work to swear his utmost loyalty to you and the rest of your family name?

“Do you say this with certainty, my liege?” Trey asked, despite knowing it was not of good manners to question the sovereign-to-be—or good to question most aristocrats in all matters, them with their pride and prejudice—that was to be his new charge in a few moments.

“I would not have said so if I was uncertain,” arrived your reply, lifting the ceremonial sword that rested atop his shoulders upwards and putting it away completely. “Do not be mistaken—I expect you to not betray me, but as I do not know you nor do you have a noble house to swear your name upon, your words hold little to no value.”

You speak with a dignity more often seen in men and women twice your age. Even having known of your character, it was a small wonder to Trey that he and you were supposed to be of similar age.

He could afford to be inwardly offended at such a claim, the value placed upon him by you, but he took no offense. It was not simply his unwillingness to argue, but his readiness to simply accept your words as the truth, words a persuasion he could not help but fall victim to. He could not help but be reminded of the difference of your status once more. Your shadow towered over him.

“Your actions will be enough proof of loyalty.”

“Then I shall prove to you as much.”

You neither smiled at him nor did you offer words of gratitude, but his eyes met yours upon lifting his head, approval present in your gaze.

“Then stand and open the doors. The sun has yet to set, and we still have much work left to do.”

As per your orders he stood up, holding open the door long enough for you to step out, following suit as you bowed to greet your own family. He watched the exchange quietly—formal and distant, but not unkind pleasantries and reminders—and Trey could not help but wonder if this act was merely for the public eye or if all aristocratic families acted like yours. That, amongst many other things, was something he could never understand about you nobles—the insistence on propriety and etiquette, even amongst those who shared their blood. He could never imagine him and his family, commoner they may be, to act so coldly towards each other.

At the very least, your guardians do not seem to loom over your shoulders. Though he envied you for the sake of the young lord that he previously served, he would prefer to not get into another altercation in regards to familial matters that he should have no concern over.

“What type of work should I be doing now?”

“It will depend on my own schedule and my instructions for you, but mornings will be spent training with the rest of the knights. I will be there as well should I not have made any arrangements; and because I have not made any for tomorrow, I shall be the one to introduce you to them,” you had been guiding him through the hallways with much ease, only to stop in your tracks quite suddenly. “Oh, I could introduce you to two right now.”

Indeed he had spotted two young men dressed in training garments at a distance, both of which were clearly heading your way so as to greet you.

“They seem quite young for knights,” Trey said, unable to hold back the remark. Both of them seemed younger than him, and he had been newly knighted only a little more than a year ago; but perhaps, despite their physical appearance, they were of the prodigious sort.

“That is because they are not knights—that is to say, not quite yet—they are still apprentices being trained by their sponsors,” you murmured quietly. Ah, esquires, thought Trey, that certainly made sense. “Though do not make the mistake of underestimating them. They are capable and responsible when needed, but it is their troublesomeness that would do you good to look out for. Ace, I confess, can be clownish at times, thus I hope you do not become a target for his jokes.”

Ace. That was a familiar name, and more interesting was how familiarly you had chosen to call him. Despite you being of higher status, most nobles preferred to stay conscious of each other’s corresponding titles.

“From what houses are they from?”

“Deuce Spade is of a commoner background, and Ace is the second son of Lord Trappola, a Baron. You might know of his older brother? The firstborn Trappola is-”

“Oi! Talking about us, are we?”

It was terribly inappropriate to interrupt you, but aside from a well-hidden sigh you hardly seemed to care. It was the redhead who chose to do so and, yes, upon further inspection he did bear resemblance to his older brother, an eye-catching but respected knight he had seen at most twice or thrice, and only talked to once. Despite being of a lower title than you, he seemed comfortable addressing you shamelessly.

“Ace, you are so uncouth as always to our liege—ahem, future liege—and it is very unknightly of you.”

“Uncouth! Who is it that taught you that word?” The young Trappola let out a laugh, and Trey was able to deduce that he would be the joking sort of man. “Besides, our liege never cared to correct us before for our transgressions.”

“I never cared to because nobody was there to listen,” you replied, a gentle reprimand to the younger boys, “but could you not have pretended to show some respectability in front of a superior?”

He would hardly call himself a superior, knowing that in a few years time the duchy’s esquires would achieve the same rank as him, especially the mildly clownish Trappola, who even had a noble family to back him up. Still, it was with amusement that he watched the blue-haired boy’s eyes widen the size of the pies his mother sometimes baked, and the other boy’s narrow like the flattening of cookies, thinly veiled skepticism in them.

“Superior?” Deuce asked, and Trey almost felt bad for how the boy suddenly seemed uneasy.

“Sir Trey is my knight—indeed, Ace, my personal knight and aide—as of today,” you clarified. “He is previously from the Duchy of Rosehearts, so he is yet accustomed to the way around our own duchy. Remember to treat him well.”

“Anything for you, my liege,” the two promised, but Trey easily noticed the envy and suspicion that permeated the air as you guided him elsewhere; no doubt it was their eyes he felt on his back.

“Forgive me if it is out of the line, but is my being here a disagreeable subject?” he asked, “I would understand. The circumstances that led to this happening are hardly worth mentioning—rather, would preferably not be mentioned at all—though it would be worrisome if that was the general consensus on me.”

“It seems you are mistaken by something, Sir Trey. Nobody but my family, and quite clearly myself, knows of the situation that led you to being here. It is simply Ace and Deuce who are distraught by your being assigned my knight.”

Though Trey could not see your expression, having chosen to walk straight ahead and not even look at him, you sounded troubled yourself.

“They had been competing for that empty position for two years now, though I hardly understand why they would aim for it.”

Upon hearing the story, Trey felt pity for the two apprentice knights. Though going against you was certainly not being considered by him, he could hardly call himself loyal in heart to you or the dukedom, that much would be clear to everyone; and it would be of no surprise if they felt he had risen to his position quite unfairly.

“They must be fiercely loyal to you, then.”

“Hardly!” you proclaimed, and though you did not snort or giggle or anything of the like, this was easily the most amused he has heard you yet. “They both aim to be one of Her Majesty, the Queen’s suits—lucrative positions considering there are only four, but I support their endeavors nonetheless—thus their leaving the estate to become a royal knight is inevitable. I suppose they think personally guarding me would aid them in their goal, though I think it unnecessary, especially for Ace.”

It was clear to Trey that you had your doubts on the extent of their loyalty to you, but he had reasons to doubt your claims, too. It was neither his duty nor desire to meddle, however, so unless either one of the two esquires would force his hand, he would simply step aside and allow the situation to fester.

Trey expected the esquire duo to carefully watch over him—though he could hardly get upset when their antics reminded him a little too much of a little brother’s mischief—but to have you watch him as well was quite nerve-wracking.

It should have been expected considering he had been in the estate for a grand total of three and a half days, but he was more expecting you to pass him off to the Knight Commander of the duchy. After all, you did not seem to particularly care for him nor detest him, so he would not be surprised if you just left him be.

It was not so bad the first two mornings, you choosing to sit back, half focused on breakfast as you were on him; but his relief was temporary as you asked, or rather instructed, him to spar with you on the third.

“Sir Trey, do you take me for a fool? Or are you simply too chivalrous?” Very nearly you had managed to land a strike against his side; you would not have missed had he not the foresight to step to his right. “I do not see a single bead of sweat on you. I have heard you were quite the peaceful knight, though that is no excuse to weaken your capabilities for the sake of my pride. If anything, my pride would be damaged more from this half-hearted fight.”

“Today is not as warm as yesterday. Had you chosen to spar yesterday, I would have broken a sweat,” he reasoned, not quite lying.

You seemed to think highly enough of him due to his being the Lord Riddle Rosehearts’ personal knight before yours, but if you were to ask him he would claim he was rather average in most aspects, including swordsmanship. He would not deny—to himself that is—that there was some hesitance in his actions. He had taken to defending rather than swinging his sword at you, because he could not tell what outcome you, and the rest of the onlooking knights, would prefer to see.

“You blame the sun?” Trey had nothing to say in reply, though he could have sworn you had smirked, if only briefly, at the thought. “I suppose it matters little who wins or loses. I was merely curious about what type of person my knight would be.”

“Is that something you could derive from a spar that has lasted a few minutes?” Trey asked, curious as to how you would have pinned him down as a person. Would you agree with the comments he has received, comments surely you as well have heard about him? Or would you arrive at a conclusion far different from the rest?

“Yes, to a certain degree, but not completely,” you admitted. Trey observed your movements slow, likely a trick or easy opening from your end, one he did not take. “The lack of warmth from the sun, as you claimed, would not allow you to properly spar with me; however, I believe it would not stop you from doing well against the other knights. Thus, let us end this engagement, and resume combat another time.”

Trey, in truth, would prefer not to go against you again. Battle was not something that he found excitement in, neither was it something Riddle grew interested in nor an expertise of the Rosehearts. They had their fair collection of respectable knights, but what they lacked for in militia they made up for in their sponsorship and support of scholars, doctors, and the rare magicians that would pop up on occasion. The culture in your estate was foreign to him.

“As you wish,” he said, retracting his sword and bowing, mutually forfeiting the mockery of a duel. “With whom should I go against next?”

Unexpectedly you had smiled, but it was not the pretty type of smile that men wished to receive from their lovers. It was the type of smile that schemers wore when they were caught up in their plans, one that was going their way; and belatedly, realized Trey, you might be more troublesome than the two you had warned him about.

“Ace… and Deuce,” catching the look in his eye, you affirmed his guess, “Yes, at once. They are always interesting to go against. Sometimes they will be selfish and want to win by themselves, and other times they will work together. Who knows what they will do against you?”

You were sicking your quite loyal not-quite knights onto him; but even with your claim as to not knowing what they’ll do, Trey was certain with one thing—they would take it as an opportunity to question him, for a spar was not merely a test of skills, but a test of wit. If he were to let go of his guard for a second, he was certain they would take the chance to make head or tail of him.

Still preferable to going against you.

Something he quickly realized about his opponents were the differences in their approaches. Deuce was arguably stronger, with harder swings and an aim that was sure to hurt if he was not careful, even with being equipped with only a practice sword. Ace, meanwhile, employed tricky tactics to try and catch him off guard, only striking when he saw fit.

He could understand how you found these two so interesting—if they were uncoordinated, it would be easy to single one out, then later take out the other, and if they were coordinated… a pity for their opponent, who would struggle to figure out how to take one out without the other interfering.

Unfortunately for him, they had decided to work with each other today—for the sake of a common goal, he supposed—not only in combat, but in interrogation. Their manner of questioning him was similar to their styles of swordsmanship, with Deuce being direct; and Ace, though still unsubtle, was more careful with his wording.

“Sir Trey, from which house do you hail?”

“The Clovers are a family of bakers. Unless you plan on purchasing from a bakery in the Rosehearts Duchy, they should be of little interest to you,” Trey answered, panting slightly as he dodged a jab from a scowling Trappola.

“So you really came from Rosehearts, then?”

“Indeed. I was knighted there.”

“By a Rosehearts? Or another knight as your sponsor?”

Trey would have preferred to not reveal a direct connection, merely instilling that he was from the area but not a man of the estate, but saying otherwise would cause the implication that he was barely a recognized knight, thus ill-fitted for you. Truthfully he did think he was ill-fitted, you seemed too independent for him to be of service, but he would rather not let go of this employment.

“After a few years of training, yes.”

“Not born of a noble house, no notable achievements to name but good enough to be recognized by either the Duchess or Little Duke, from a duchy about five days of travel away by horse carriage despite seemingly good relations with parents,” As the information they had learned from him was listed down by Ace, Deuce decided it was his turn to question him once more.

“How did you get to become my liege’s knight, then?” Deuce cried out, his frustration clear with how his sword was thrust quite strongly at him. How plain-spoken Spade was, but far easier to deal with. “To have come from nowhere to take one of the most coveted positions among the duchy’s knights?”

“A recommendation,” Not quite a lie, in consideration that it was the story used to cover-up what had caused his banishment, but that much was unnecessary to reveal.

“Nonsense, I say. That seat’s been empty for two years, then you come and take it with ease?” Ace questioned, scoffing at the absurdity. “Could you actually be my liege’s secret lover?”

It was such an absurd claim!—not only unfounded but downright preposterous, one that would cause great offense should you have heard it, and scandal should anyone begin to believe it. Trey could not help himself from being shocked, but he should have expected that the two would use that momentary shock against him, for one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was on the ground with two blades pointed at him.

“We win,” Deuce said, funnily soft in his proclamation. There was a smile on his face, clearly happy with the shared victory. “Perhaps our liege would praise us?”

Ace, however, was not particularly enthused by the turn out as Trey initially assumed he would be. He seemed to be the more smug of the two as per his observations, but there was hardly any trace of gloating now in his oddly serious expression.

“You might be a good knight,” he began, slowly inching his sword away from his neck, “but hardly a good replacement.”

Replacement. That was the word that had stuck with him for the rest of the morning, even as you stalked over to him and offered him a piece of cloth to clean himself up, even as you made your observations on how he countered the two, even as you gave him advice on how to deal with the two esquires the next time.

Trey had not considered there being another knight before him, though he supposed it only made sense that you would not go unprotected and unguarded, even from a young age, even with your capabilities. What he found himself questioning, however, was why the position was left vacant for two years, and what led him to being allowed to take it. He was hardly special, only lucky to have encountered the right crowd the first time, and be taken in by your family the second.

Replacement. The word repeated itself once more in his head. He supposed the two of you were not so ill-fitted after all—his replacement of a liege, your replacement of a vassal.

Trey’s days in the duchy were quiet. He would go as far as to say they were too quiet. Ace and Deuce had not come to bother him or even come to ask him for a spar, though he suspected they were told off by you. Whatever it was you did, it certainly did not stop the staring, though he supposed busying himself with training was enough distraction to be able to ignore it.

Then there was the current Knight Commander who mostly let him be, oftentimes telling him to put more effort into the exercising—not that he was deliberately holding off from doing so.

As for you, who he was expected to guard at all times, he was told you went out quite often, but these days you were holed up in your office, working away on documents of some importance—nothing he was privy to. He spent most of his time right outside your door, only opening it when someone wanted to report to you.

Trey would say he enjoyed the peace, but he would not deny being incredibly bored by what little he had to do in the afternoons. Around this time of day he would often be asked by Riddle to do some menial tasks, usually fetching something, half the time something from his parents’ bakery.

Perhaps it was his inability to shake off routine that led him to knocking on the doors of your study, a favor on his lips ready to be uttered.

“You would like access to the kitchen?” You sounded a little intrigued at what he would be doing there, before shrugging to yourself. “Oh, of course. A baker’s son likely knows how to prepare their own meals. I believe you are responsible enough to not be wasteful, so you are free to use it for as long as they have yet to begin preparing for supper. I do not need you until my nightly stroll either, so you are free to go.”

With your permission he had made way to the blessedly empty kitchens, spending the first dozen minutes familiarizing himself with the placement of the sweeteners and spices, the utensils and cutlery, the pots and pans. It was unfortunate that the lateness in time and the general lack of ingredients made for his inability to create anything of note.

It would have been nice to have more options, and it was surprising that a family of great fortune did not possess in their pantries quality ingredients for dessert at all times—he could hardly believe a lavish family chose to not indulge in the finest of delicacies every day! Riddle, albeit without anyone knowing, certainly did—and Trey had to wonder if the estate had simply not received their shipments, or if they were more the shopping out of doors sort of folk.

Regardless, he would make do with what he had, and he would just have to hope that it would suit your tastes. What even were your tastes? It was not like he had ever gotten the chance to dine with you, and breakfast was hardly an indicator of one’s preferences.

He was left with no choice—he would just have to make assumptions. He was already in the kitchen, and to return so suddenly would have shown he had wasted his time for nothing. He was in the kitchen to make something for you due to… boredom, perhaps, and maybe a habit he cannot quite get rid of.

Really, you had not even requested this, and there was always the chance that you would refuse the snacks for one reason or another, perhaps not wanting to eat something on the sweeter side with the evening meal coming soon, or simply not liking the food presented; but Trey thought he would like it if you enjoyed something he made, so he continued on with it regardless of the uncertainty.

You failed to notice him when he returned back to your office, too focused on the paper you happened to be writing, but you did pay him mind when the silverware connected with the hardwood table, the noise stealing your attention away from your work.

“You have come back so soon, Sir Trey?”

“Gone only long enough to prepare an afternoon snack, my liege,” Trey replied, “would you like me to prepare your usual drink to pair with it?”

“You will not even ask me if I would like to partake?” The question must have been rhetorical, for you sounded unaffected by it, humored at most—not that he’d gotten good at reading you, because he certainly had not. “And it is good you remember my favorite drink already. Yes, I would quite like it.”

“Then I’ll be returning to the kitchen. Please give me a-”

“Hold on,” Trey watched as you put down your pen, leaving the ink to dry as you pulled out an envelope from your desk drawer. Oh, had you been writing a letter all this time and not a report? Though he supposed a report could very well come in the form of a letter- “you would not mind passing a letter to the butler for me, would you?”

It was not as if he had much of a choice, but he had no reasons to refuse a simple task either.

“Of course not. I will pass it on once I am done attending to you,” Trey watched as you, without haste, poured wax over the envelope, sealing the contents with a firm press of a stamp. You appeared satisfied with your work, although he found it odd how the back was empty—no indication of an address or receiver, only indication of a sender being the family crest on the seal—Trey could not help but wonder if this was a letter of confidentiality.

“Thank you, but before you go, have you already had one of the—those are tartlets, yes?—for yourself?”

“Only while making it; I have not tasted the final product myself,” Trey said, only partially lying. He had tasted the final product, but he was unsure if it was impolite to let you know he had gotten to taste it first before you had—there should hardly be any reason to, he doubted you thought he would try to poison you, and you seemed to think he was capable enough a cook.

“Then get one for me and get one for yourself. Let us try it before you go—it would not do you good to go after the butler on an empty stomach with how much he runs around the estate.”

Trey could not help but let out a short chuckle. What would a small pastry do for his stomach? Still, this would be a good chance to gauge what you thought of his baking, so he placed one atop a small plate, placing it atop your desk.

Trey could try to pretend all he wanted that he was not paying too much attention to you, busying himself by removing a glove so he could eat his share properly—but his eyes were most definitely on you, some anticipation for a comment, if you would give one at all. You did not disappoint.

“The first time I ate a tartlet, I heavily disliked it. It was pretty, just like this one, with the colors of the jam making them look a little bit like jewels. The taste, however, was awful—the chef must have mistaken salt for sugar—and no one dared bring me another tartlet again,” Trey stiffened in place as you spoke, wondering if it had been a mistake.

“Upon tasting this, I found myself thinking, ‘Ah, so this is what it was supposed to taste like!’—sweet but not overwhelmingly so, small enough to not ruin one’s appetite before supper; it’s no wonder the first Queen was said to love this despite the simplicity of it. For sure, I would have begun asking for tartlets every week if I tasted yours first.”

It was difficult not to feel some sense of pride after being complimented by you, you who complimented not very often, so he allowed himself to feel proud—that was barely even his best work!

“Thank you, my liege,” he said, sincere with his gratitude.

“Oh? I think I should be the one thanking you, Sir Trey,” He meant to tell you that there was no need for it, but before he could so much as utter a word you had decided the pastries were good enough to smile at, and so you smiled.

People smiled all the time, but Trey had always thought you to be quite distant—not unfriendly or unfeeling but distant—and that perception of you had suddenly wavered as you smiled at him. Your smile felt like he was being praised, like you were telling him he had done something of worth. The knight did not know what to make of it, so he said nothing at all.

He left as soon as you had handed him the letter, wondering what he would try making for you next.

“You are choosing to take him with you? Can you not take me, or even Deuce, with you instead?” Trey did not make a habit out of eavesdropping on conversations, but he had been looking for you, and you just so happened to be talking to the redhead who did not seem to like him too much—seemingly talking about him—so he could not help but overhear.

He could also not help but be curious, but that was of secondary importance.

“It is about time Sir Trey went along with me on my trips, and a good opportunity had come up as I needed to check up on a few things in town. The trip will allow him to be acclimated to the dukedom, to what I do when I am not stuck in my study—travelling.

Besides, both you and Deuce have duties to your mentors today; I doubt they would appreciate their esquires skipping when I have a perfectly capable knight to guard me.”

Ace still looked frustrated although he did not argue any further, perhaps out of respect for you, or perhaps because he was aware you were a firm and stubborn person. You appeared to sigh, something about the younger man’s expression likely pricking a soft spot in you.

“Ace, I know you think him to be a good man just as the rest of the duchy does, no matter how much you like to act otherwise,” you said in a scolding tone, “And I know the reasons as to why you two are acting up, but you have to understand—I chose him to fill the seat for a reason.”

That was certainly news to Trey. He had assumed he happened to be placed as a knight directly under you by your guardians, or due to his being close in age with you, or even somehow fulfilling the qualifications for the position; but you had chosen him yourself? What for?

“My liege,” he said, interrupting whatever conversation could have continued. The young Trappola looked a little startled, but you only looked at him expectedly, “the carriage is ready.”

Following you to the estate’s entrance, he could not help but wonder if you knew he had overheard your conversation, but Trey would not risk you knowing if you did not so he stayed silent. He stayed silent as well on the ride to town, eyes flitting between you and the window next to him. Intruders who intercepted noble’s carriages were not unheard of, after all. That is all why he looks at you, and he looks at you for the same reason when you step out of the carriage and go do your duties.

It is his job to observe you and your surroundings, although he found himself observing you more than the surroundings.

The town you decided to visit… was a nice town. There was not much Trey could say, not because the town was bad in any way, but because he was never known to be able to wax poetic. It was a good town—a lot of it reminded him of the town which he himself resided in, though he would dare claim the bakeries likely paled in comparison to his parents’—but it was also nothing too out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, at least from his experiences, was getting to see you so—he had not the right words for it, would warm be the word for it?

You are still as polite as ever, with as much dignity as your clothes and air—he had asked why you did not bother to conceal your identity, you claimed it was useless and that everyone would recognize you either way—but you act much friendlier than he had seen you yet.

You greet them kindly with gentle waves and pretty laughter, say their names like you’ve known them from long before; he cannot help himself from wondering if this is how you would be if you never had to worry about the propriety of nobility.

Everyone appeared equally glad to see you—he knew such was definitely not a given when it came to people of your position, the difference between respect and fear—and many of the old men and women greeting you fondly, as if you were a child they had raised from birth.

“They seem to love you,” he said, the compliment slipping out of his mouth easily. He figured you would not mind him speaking out of turn, not that you ever seemed to scold him for much of anything, if it was for a compliment. He thought you might have accepted it humbly, or explain why it might be otherwise, but you chose to do differently.

“Is that so? Then I’m glad,” It was such a short and simple answer—glad, you were glad to hear he thought as much—and glad manifested through, once again, you giving him a sunny smile.

Trey, once more, was ill-prepared for such a happenstance, and although he knew it to be impossible a task he would have appreciated a warning. He had not even done much of anything to warrant it!

Still, he is glad that you are glad.

Would you be doing more of that now? Smiling? He still had not quite wrapped his head around the last time you had done it; it would be difficult to keep seeing you as his distant liege if you did such a thing.

Not that you have been much of that lately—to the public eye, certainly for appearances’ sake, but not in his thoughts—quite difficult when you compliment him each time he gives you something new to snack on.

“I only speak the truth,” he said, and though he has his secrets it is certainly not a lie. He would not deny to himself that his attention has predominantly been on you, but he was doing his duties of paying attention to his surroundings—that is, paying attention to them when you choose to interact with them.

When he spotted you picking up a trinket, apparently one from a far-away land called the Scalding Sands, he had immediately prepared the money pounch you made him hold in case you had wanted to purchase it.

When you wanted to buy a cold drink, he looked over the prices to make sure you were not getting scammed—you gave the vendor a generous tip so he supposed it hardly mattered.

When your walk was interrupted every few minutes by excitable children who wanted to say their greetings, or budding young knights who wanted to make a good first impression, he carefully watched them all—mostly the adults, he doubted the children had any sort of bad intentions.

Trey, himself, was approached every so often too. As you had not bothered hiding your identity, he had not bothered hiding his being your knight as well—his usual attire likely drawing attention to him. Then again, he supposed just being beside you was enough to do as much.

“You wear a different uniform from the others,” a middle-aged woman said, the one who was tending to a stall filled with flowers, “what I mean to say, different from the usual companions.”

That made sense. Squires like Ace and Deuce, whom he assumed were the ones to usually come join you, wore different clothing from the official knights of the duchy; he himself had a slightly different attire to the official knights due to his designation, but it was surprising that others outside the estate paid attention to it.

“I would say he is different from the others as well,” another woman added, and he tried not to seem too bothered as he was scrutinized. “Better than the last one, that troublesome redhead. Oh, I hope you’re permanent, dear.”

All Trey could do was laugh and rub the back of his neck, half-hearted gratitude for what he presumed to be flattery. He’s quick to leave them be when you call upon him, bowing for a reasonable amount of time before returning to your side.

Once more, Trey cannot help himself from thinking about the matters of your past knight. The woman had brought up a troublesome redhead—very likely Ace, for he knew not of any other troublesome redheads among the knights—but she had also mentioned his becoming a permanent fixture. That likely implied they, as well, knew of your past knight.

It truly was none of his business, and knowing who it had been would neither negatively nor positively affect him, but it was said that the people of the Queendom of Roses were naturally curious people, so, perhaps, this was just a natural feeling.

“Sir Trey? Are you well?”

To be asked as much by you must have meant he had spent too much time thinking about the matter, inattentive to you—though the trip to the town had been safe, nighttime lurked the more evil of beings; even with the carriage, he should have been paying more attention.

He would have to push the theorizing for another day, or perhaps hold it off indefinitely.

“Yes, my liege,” he replied, nodding his head as well. “I was simply thinking of our trip today.”

“And what did you think of it? Do not be hesitant to tell me what you think—I would appreciate an outsider’s perspective.”

And so he tells you. He is honest enough in his observations, praising the defining features of the town and the kindness of the people, although he would not deny being awfully careful about wording his suggestions.

“Of course, as you mentioned, I’m still an outsider so I hardly know the internal situation of the town in terms of economy and education, thus I could be completely wrong in my analysis.”

“Sir Trey, there is hardly any need for that type of humility,” You appeared slightly bothered by the comment, but you do not give him any time to think about whether he should respond or stay silent. “But I appreciate your comments nonetheless. It was not too difficult keeping up with me, was it?”

“I would not be a very suitable knight if I had difficulties.”

Suitable. Previously, he had not even thought of what it meant to be a suitable knight for you, more preoccupied with simply being good. He supposed the ladies from the market had gotten to him to some degree.

“Good, then I can begin bringing you to trips a few hours farther. A town down south of the territory has a festival next week, and, oh, two days from now I’d like to visit a village that—”

You were rambling, and the knight found it somewhat endearing how you seemed excited to travel all around the territory, dare he say excited to be able to show someone who is essentially an outsider the beauty of your land—at least, he thought this was what excited looked like on you—you certainly look more chipper than when you’re working away in your office.

“My liege, I think you might be a good person.”

He had not quite realized he had said it out loud until you paused your one-sided discussion to look at him as though he had said something peculiar.

“That’s… an odd compliment,” you said slowly, “and I certainly do not need the flattery, but it would be rude to note accept it either, so I shall.”

So you said, but you did not bother to properly hide the amused smile creeping on your face, merely turning away from him to face the window—as though that would do anything to hide it. It’s different from the polite smiles you give everyone, or the other smiles that still caught him off-guard, but there must be something contagious about it because he found himself smiling too.

“I do not have the right to scold you, my liege, but I did warn you getting caught in the rain for more than a few seconds was a terrible idea.”

Trey had been the one to try and rush you indoors after yesterday’s terrible downpour, but you had insisted on not letting the trip go to waste due to a little rain. At that time, he had been reminded once more that you could be awfully stubborn when you wanted to be. You had only agreed to go to the nearest establishment once you realized that, as your knight, he would be forced to walk in the rain with you. To think you had even tried to dismiss him and continue the walk by yourself!

“Yes, I suppose the circumstances aren’t in my favor,” you replied, unable to hide the raspiness of your voice, and that was all it took for him to pour you another glass of water. “Though a mild cold is hardly enough reason to stop working.”

"Excuse me for a moment,” He crouched down beside your chair, extending a hand to gauge your temperature. He was no doctor or anything of the sort, but that… was most certainly not just a mild cold. By the Queen’s name, you looked like you were even shivering a little bit—was that shawl doing anything to warm you up?

“I know I am stepping out of the line by saying as much, but are you always this… troublesome?” You laugh at his exasperation, and although he would normally find it a good thing to have you in a pleasant mood, why must it be now of all times?—and now you had to drink more water because you went from laughing to coughing.

“And were you always someone who worried so much? Caring for the sick is not part of your knightly duties, last I have checked.”

“Normally it would not be, not to this extent, but with my being your personal knight I believe my duties extend to your well-being, even if what is ailing you is sickness.”

“Ah. Then do as you must, although I still refuse to return to my bedroom to rest, and since I doubt you would have the ability to drag me over there, I shall continue working,” Trey inwardly groaned to himself.

If he were a more shameless man who cared little for propriety he most certainly would have attempted to do so, but the thought of so much attempting to touch you, if even just to carry or lug you to your room—and to even have to enter your room?—in truth, he would prefer not to think about it.

“Will you at least transfer to the sofa so that you may look over those documents more comfortably?”

You gave him a thoughtful glance, and Trey cannot deny the relief that he felt when you nod your head.

“Yes, that seems reasonable. I will go over there once I finish penning this letter.”

Another letter? Trey supposed nobility always had numerous letters and invitations to respond to every day, although could the recipients not be kept waiting for at least a few days longer?

“Is it so urgent that you should sacrifice your health over it?”

“Sir Trey, were you always so talkative?” He only relaxed when you let out another laugh, letting him know you did not mind him questioning you. “Not that it is unpleasant to hear you talk. I would prefer it if you spoke more freely to me. It would make our exchanges less uncomfortable, would it not?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Trey agreed, though he would say there was hardly anything unpleasant or discomforting about talking with you, nothing but pleasant for some time already.

“Now, what was it that you said? Sacrifice, was it? I would say it is not so big of a deal—writing a letter, that is—but I suppose it is a matter of importance. I would rather not keep this nobleman waiting for a reply.”

Despite your wishes that he would speak more freely, Trey dared not to speak the assumption that had just entered his head. Rather, assumptions.

“I will go to the kitchen to brew you some tea, then. It will be good for your throat,” Once you let out a hum of approval, he had slowly left your study. The walk to the kitchen was one filled with thinking, assuming. Perhaps he had been overthinking it, but he had two ideas as to who you could have been writing a letter to, and what writing that letter entailed.

The first was likely the most obvious assumption—that you had either received a proposal, or that you were in the process of courting and being courted. It was a reasonable guess to make, thought Trey, considering you were a noble of marriageable age in a most desirable position.

He had seen you send and receive a few presents over the past two months, although he had never wondered until today if any of them were for courtship purposes—a little difficult to check without looking through each individual card and letter.

He had also heard a few knights wondering when or if you would ever marry, with some carrying the same assumption as Ace—that perhaps you had a lover you were keeping secret.

Indeed, there was hardly any evidence of either an incoming marriage or a secret lover, though neither were out of the realm of possibilities—although he seriously doubted you would be the type to have or want the latter.

The second assumption had no evidence, more influenced by what he knew of you and what others have slipped and told him, but perhaps you were sending a letter to your past knight, the one he had replaced. Trey had thought of it for some time, but with no one having become your personal knight since the last one’s departure, for two years until he arrived, you must have been quite attached.

Regardless of if he was right with either one of his assumptions, it should not matter to him. He would do his job of being your knight either way.

Upon returning to your study, Trey was surprised you had actually taken his advice—whatever letter it was you were writing, you were clearly finished with it as you sat down on the sofa. He still thought it would be preferable if you were resting without the documents in hand, but there was only so much pushing he could do… for now, that is.

Trey found that he was quite good with gentle persuasion, and gentle he would be with his approach.

You greeted each other wordlessly, him watching you drink your cup of tea as you went over the documents. Things were mostly as usual for half an hour, with him offering to pour you another every now and then, but soon you began to look drowsy. You had stayed on that one piece of paper for around five minutes at this point.

“Sir Trey, you are terribly unfair,” The said man laughed at the accusation. “I thought it would be merely herbs and ginger here in the tea, but there was some chamomile as well, was there not? Or some other type of flower or tea leaf that’s intended more for the night than the day.”

“I believe you are implying something, my liege,” he replied, neither confirming nor denying it, “but if you find yourself tired, should you not retire-”

“Absolutely not,” Firm as ever in your decision, thought Trey.

“Then, if I may be so forward—and if the contents are not too confidential for my eyes and ears—would you allow me to read you the documents out loud instead? Since you do not find my voice unpleasant,” he offered. At the very least, if you truly insist on staying awake, then he would try to make today’s work easier for you.

He would not blame you if you refused, but after a minute of thinking about it on your part you agreed quite easily, patting the space on the sofa beside you.

“It should be alright, but sit beside me. There are a few numbers and tables I need to look over.”

He followed your orders easily, but upon sitting he realized how awkward it was to actually sit beside you. Standing beside you, sparring with you, sitting across you in the carriage—it could be argued that those were all moments of being in close proximity with you as well, but there was something more… would the word be domestic? regarding the current situation.

“Go on, I will be listening.”

So he began to read the reports aloud, stopping at every paragraph and only beginning with the next once you hum or let out some other noise of approval. Truthfully, for one reason or another, Trey could not bear to look at you, so he heavily relied on your little cues as a signal to keep going.

It was around the time he had begun reading a report about the agriculture of a village up north that he had felt it—the sudden weight atop his shoulder, quick in arrival and indefinite in departure. Trey abandoned the papers almost immediately, looking at you to see if you truly had fallen asleep—you had; with how often his siblings faked sleep he would have figured out if you were not.

Trey did not have the heart to wake you up. For you to succumb to slumber was what he had wanted all along, but he had thought you would either choose to dismiss him so you could nap in your study, or that you would admit defeat and retire to bed. Though you were hardly the most formal noble he has ever met, you still cared about propriety, even if it was in front of someone like him, so he could never have expected for you to…

The knight let out a troubled sigh, unsure of what to do with you. Just as he did not have the heart to wake you up, neither could he stay in this sitting position until you roused awake.

First, it would be troublesome if someone chose to enter the room—he would prefer not to rekindle the short-lived rumor, one likely having to do with Ace, that he had gotten his position due to him being your secret significant other.

Second, that position had to be uncomfortable for you; he knew your back and neck would feel terrible upon waking. He wanted you to rest specifically so you would feel rejuvenated—extra aching in your body would certainly not help with your recovery.

Third, Trey was not sure if he could handle anymore of this proximity. You look a lot softer when you are asleep—when you do not try to put a distance, or at least feign one, between you and everyone else. You were, dare he say—no, he would not dare to say what he thought of you just now.

His heart had been beating irrationally fast for the past few minutes, panic and nervousness stirred into one, and he would very much like it if his heart stopped doing so and returned to normal.

If you were his little sibling, he would pick you up and bring you to your bedroom, tucking you to bed, but you are not that. You are not exactly a friend or a lover either, though the thought of you as the latter… he really should stop thinking of Ace’s little joke. It was not even funny, just slightly embarrassing and slightly flustering.

Ultimately, Trey decided to lay you down on the sofa, an unheard apology as he slowly pulled you away from him, resting your head against a pillow. There was a slight fear in you waking up—mostly because he knew you would try to return to your work as you had slacked off enough—but even as he took off his coat to lay it atop you, a substitute for a blanket, your breathing had not changed even the slightest.

“My liege,” He kneeled, despite knowing you would not see it, “may you have the most pleasant of dreams. Please rest well.”

He left the room soon after, not truly leaving as he chose to stand outside your door, guarding it so he could warn people not to enter, or at the very least give you time to prepare yourself if it was someone of importance.

Trey dug his head into the palm of his hand, feeling the contrast of his cool fingertips and warm face. He might be coming down with a cold, too.

It was normal to think your superior was attractive. His superior, in particular, was someone his age, who he had to spend hours looking at, so it was normal to find that particular noble more and more pleasing to look at as the days became weeks became months.

What could not be explained away so easily was how he had begun gazing at your portraits. There were numerous around the estate, your likeness having been taken by numerous artists. He could pretend he was simply admiring the techniques used, but unless it was a cake or pastry he was hardly a connoisseur of the arts.

He was in the middle of observing one such painting when he had chanced upon someone he barely knew, but one he certainly knew of. The man, wearing a lavish cape atop the already eye-catching uniform of the Queen’s knights, appeared not to notice him, heading straight for the garden where he knew you to be. Trey followed him, despite knowing you would not be unsafe with the man—the realization late, but unsurprising.

After all, that man was—

“My liege!” the knight called, greeting you the same way Trey tended to, only with more cheerfulness and humor in his voice. “Did you miss me?”

“I have not been your liege for more than two years,” you let out a laugh, one he had to strain his ears to hear, “but I suppose so.”

—was the future Baron Trappola, Ace’s older brother.

“Somehow I doubt it! When was the last time you sent me a letter? Even Ace sent more letters than you—Ace! I have had to rely on him for updates on you, and what is this about you—”

“—getting a new knight?” you guessed, and Trey had to hold in an awkward laugh. How come whenever he listened in on a conversation with you in it, it just so happened to be about him? “I see he has been complaining to you, then. Probably just upset he has to rethink his strategy on usurping you in terms of knighthood.”

“The poor man is probably getting bullied by my baby brother! And what Ace does, Deuce will probably end up doing too. I wonder who they get that attitude from?”

“Hah! They certainly tried, more Ace than Deuce honestly, but Sir Trey has more resilience than you would think. He is—”

“Gossiping about your new knight, are we? Then could I invite you to walk around the gardens with me, like how we used to when you and Ace were still little kids? To walk is a good way to stray from prying eyes.”

That was Trey’s cue to leave the premises immediately, stalking off to… somewhere. He usually made it a point to be near wherever you were once morning training had finished, but he would rather have to deal with a troublesome younger Trappola than be called out by the older one.

He settled on the outside of your study, where he usually found himself most days. No, that was wrong, he usually found himself inside your study, but it was impolite to be there without your permission, so he stood outside.

As if to mock him, the outside of your study conveniently had a portrait of you on the wall, so if he wanted to feel any more guilty about listening in on a private conversation, your unmoving likeness was there to stare him down.

Firstly, he knew who the knight he had replaced was. While there was no animosity or competitiveness over the reveal, he had still felt strangely about it. Second, whoever it was you had been sending letters to lately it was certainly not the older Trappola, which furthered his assumption that it had to do with courtship. He also felt strangely about that, though he would prefer not to dwell on the whys of it.

Alone with his thoughts, he could do nothing but stare at your painted likeness; soon after, what was unmoving had moved as you appeared before him, sudden as though you were a mere vision, and you stared at him as if you knew he would be there.

“He wanted to greet you, you might want to know,” you began to say, ushering him to enter your study with you. “Had the sun set the slightest bit slower I am sure he would have sought you out.”

Ah, so you were aware of his presence—either you were told he had listened, or you had noticed and allowed him to listen.

“If you had asked about him, I would have answered,” You sat him down beside you on the sofa, almost reminiscent of the time you had been sick—only this time you were very aware of each and every action, and he wondered if he was the only one embarrassed at the proximity. There was space on either side, so why did the two of you have to sit next to each other, only some several inches in the center separating your bodies?

“The reason you kept the position of being your personal knight empty for so long—”

“I suppose there is some merit to what people have assumed, although they are all incredibly far-fetched. I’m sure you have heard some of them,” He had, even found himself on the verge of believing some of them. Perhaps Trey was more invested with the idea of you being in love than he thought because he, too, had assumed that you might have carried affections…

Having seen what he had, however, it appeared that romantic affection was not what you felt for that knight. He ignored the pleasant feeling the thought provided.

“It just so happened that, with his departure, there was no real reason for me to take a new knight. I did not need one,” you explained, as though it was simply obvious at the time. It made enough sense, thought Trey, considering you could at least hold your own in a fight, and you had several knights and esquires willing to accompany you in rotation.

“My liege…”

You smiled at him like you thought he had done something good, despite him having done nothing at all.

“What I want to tell you is… I chose you for a reason, and I have no regrets about that decision with how wonderfully you’ve been doing as my knight. I would keep you by my side forever, if I could!”

That had to be a joke—the latter part in particular—but it caused his heart to beat all the same, the same way it did when you fell asleep beside him the afternoon you were ill. Although your words shocked him, he had accepted your praise quickly, knowing that you did not hand it out so easily.

Still, even with his beating heart, a question was still left unanswered—why had you chosen him out of every other knight?

“So this is your family’s bakery?”

When you had told him you wished to go to the Dukedom of Rosehearts, he had been incredibly surprised—though he tried not to make his emotions too evident. He was aware the two of you would travel longer and longer distances as time went by, though he had not expected that you would go from traveling from within the territory to a Dukedom five days away.

He had been even more surprised when you told him you wished to visit his hometown, with one of the stops being his home.

Trey had still not quite wrapped his head around how exactly he perceived you, even though several weeks had passed since he had realized he—unable to find an eloquent word for it—liked looking at you. Was he being respectful in the sense that he admired you in every aspect, or disrespectful in the sense that he was a few steps away from being improper?

That aside, with your first out-of-territory trip being the Rosehearts Duchy, his hometown being the first destination of all places, he had to wonder…

“Sundown is nearing so they should be closing shop about now,” Trey advised, partly anxious but mostly excited to see his family again, “You could safely remove your hood, if you wish.”

“Yes. I should greet the family of my knight properly,” Your gloved hand hovered over the handle, hesitating to open it. “I had not thought of asking you before, but I should ask now that we are here—do your parents think I treat you well?”

“You do treat me well,” he insisted, firm in his stance, “and I have made sure to let them know as much. If anything, my parents are more likely to be mad at me than you.”

“About what?”

“About not telling them we were coming,” And then he opened the door for you, the scent of bread and baked goods wafting through the air instantaneously.

Several things happened at once.

First, his siblings screamed at him in the way little brothers and sisters always screamed when they found themselves energetic and excited. Two, his parents shouted his name, clearly caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. Three, you took off your hood, and though they had never seen you before it was easy to connect the dots as to who you were. Four, all went silent, meaning his mother dropped a rolling pin on the counter and his father quickly shushed his siblings.

“Sorry for the sudden visit,” he said, throwing in an awkward laugh, “My liege wanted to drop by while we were in the duchy.”

“I apologize for the intrusion,” you bowed—you did not have to, especially with you bowing first despite your position—and his family scrambled to follow suit. “I have business here in Rosehearts; I figured Sir Trey would appreciate getting to visit his family. I hope you do not mind my coming here without warning, Mr. and Mrs. Clover… and the little Clovers.”

“Of course not. We welcome you here any time, your excellency,” his father said, who had recovered his cool quickly enough. His mother, meanwhile, threw him a look that implied he was certainly getting a talking to later. “What a shame we could not prepare anything fresh for your arrival. If only our unfilial son had warned us beforehand.”

‘Unfilial! Just who were they calling unfilial?’ thought Trey, glancing at his father with incredulity.

“That is quite alright. Your son spoils me plenty—he is not only a wonderful knight, but wonderful in the kitchen as well. Dare I say—and Sir Trey, I ask you not repeat this to him—your son might be better than our estate’s pastry chef! Clearly, he…”

Trey had not been expecting you to praise him in front of his family—or perhaps he had, but just a light praise that would be enough to reassure his parents—and you had yet to stop, speaking nothing but the best of him—and Trey, conflicted Trey with his conflicting feelings, what was he supposed to do?

He supposed he was grateful you chose to not look at him, for he was sure his face was painted a color akin the brightest of strawberries, like a jam smeared across his cheeks. His parents, however, had certainly noticed—knowing glances exchanged between them whenever they were not looking at you.

“My liege is exaggerating,” he said, coughing and clearing his throat, “I often say my creations pale in comparison to yours, but I suppose it is to taste to believe.”

“Yes… in that case, I do suppose we have something to serve, though it has yet to finish cooling. It would take at most an hour.”

A signal disguised as an offer—one from his mother, and one both you and him had caught on to easily.

“I do want to tour the area a little longer. It would be a good idea for me to head out,” Trey looked at you, some hesitance to the idea.

“My liege, I am unsure if it would be safe for you—”

“The Dukedom of Rosehearts is known for strict enforcement of laws and regulations,” you retorted easily, as if you had already prepared for this argument in your head, “so there is hardly any reason for me to be unsafe. Even in the odd chance that someone targets me, I will be able to defend myself.”

‘Do not even think of accompanying me,’ you were essentially saying.

As soon as you left the premises, he was immediately hounded by his family, all with different questions and expressions of disappointment of how he could not have warned them in advance—and, of course, familial affections he returned easily and wholeheartedly.

Once the pleasantries and ‘I-miss-you’s had been exchanged, his father pulled aside his little siblings, instructing them to head to their room so that the adults could talk.

“You have been lucky,” his mother told him, “how Lord Riddle favored you, how your current liege clearly adores you—”

“Mother—”

“—but you ought to be careful this time,” she warned, without any animosity or anger. Her tone was kind in all the ways a mother should be, but there was a certain somberness to it as well, and Trey had a feeling he would have a difficult time with this conversation. “If things go wrong, it will hurt differently this time.”

“It is not what you think it is,” Trey said, unwilling to accept the implications of the advice given to him.

“But it is, is it not?” his father countered, all-knowing in his stare. “Something there, something not quite out of the oven.”

“Are you really making baking analogies now?”

“That is not the point,” the older man said with a laugh, a laugh that relieved him of some tension. “You have always been good at pretending everything is fine, but the mouth lies where the eyes cannot.”

“By which you mean to say?”

“That we are your parents, and we can tell the difference between looking out of mere duty and looking out of interest.”

“Interest cannot be acted on,” Trey Clover was the filial son of Mr. and Mrs. Clover, who could lie to himself but never to his parents, and thus that was all he could say. “The sun has fallen, I should look for my liege.”

Look. That was all he could do.

Even cloaked, Trey found you easily—stood outside of a tea room, at a time past the usual tea time, talking with another hooded figure. Trey looked at his sword and clasped it; when he had looked back up you stood alone, as if the being was nothing but a figment of his imagination.

But it had not been—he had been sure of it, would make sure of it.

“Did you meet with someone, my liege? Perhaps been bothered by some person?” There was some benefit to him always looking at and after you, catching on to how your eyes widened slightly, if only for a moment. That was new, and it was unsettling.

“An old friend from the academy,” you replied easily, “He was surprised I was in Rosehearts, so we took some time to catch up with each other.”

On the surface he accepted the answer readily, but something brewed inwardly, the resurfacing of an idea he tried not to dwell on any longer.

What if… you had visited Rosehearts intentionally?

Well of course you had, but perhaps it was with a purpose not strictly for business, and maybe that purpose was to meet up with the one that you had been exchanging letters with for as long as he could recount. Perhaps the reason he could not distinguish which gifts were for courtship was because there were none; that whoever it was you chose to communicate with was a secret.

There was no real tell on whether the exchange was a matter of romance in the first place, but the exchange of intelligence and information was hardly ever done in public tea rooms, certainly not if it was a matter so important that you would travel five days from home to receive it, thus he rules that idea out.

An affair of secrecy. It was a troubling matter.

If he were to actually think about his problems for a moment instead of pushing them aside, he would readily accept the biggest reason as to why he found himself so troubled over it—certainly not a matter of being undeserving, for who was he to talk? You had the ability to decide who deserved to be with you or otherwise—but the reason was inherently selfish, and Sir Trey Clover was not known to ever be selfish.

You were smiling on the way to your temporary residence in the dukedom. Your smiles were not too uncommon these days, often thrown in with praise difficult to not feel flustered at, but to have you smiling for more than a minute… it would mean you were more than pleased today, and he wondered how much of that had to do with the mystery man.

He should not care too much. If you were happy, he should be happy.

“Sir Trey, I will tell you this… I think I still prefer the desserts you make,” you whispered, almost as if it was a secret that you did not want anyone hearing, despite there being no one but you and him in the carriage. That, combined with the absurdity of the claim, was enough for him to smile like you were.

“Thank you, although that praise is difficult to believe when they are far more talented than me.”

He was unsure if you were completely sincere, but in the back of his head he liked to pretend you were. It was enough to take his mind off of other things.

“Perhaps, though I did not call you more talented than them either. I simply said I liked yours more.”

“Yes, that would be true. I suppose with how much time I have spent beside you, I likely know your food preferences better than they do,” he replied, letting out a steady breath. There was no need to overly react when there was a reasonable explanation for everything. “Although, forgive me, I do find myself questioning your tastes, my liege.”

“Hah! Sir Trey, pray tell, what do you think of my tastes?”

You looked at him expectantly. It should have been easy to answer—all he had to do was list off his observations based on what beverages you tended to request from him, which dishes you savored most, the tastes and textures you preferred more than others; despite the simplicity of the question, he could not answer. Perhaps because he knew that was not what you were asking, not exactly.

“Never mind that,” you eventually replied, wistfully looking out of the window. “Sir Trey, would you like to be home more often? To come see your family more?”

The both of you knew the answer would have been a resounding ‘yes, most absolutely, my liege,’ thus he did not say it. Anyhow, it was evident on his face, even as the two of you were shrouded mostly in darkness, only a mere flame that lit up more of your features than his.

“My liege, are you implying something?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. From where could you have gotten that idea?” You had given Trey hardly any time to dwell on the meaning of your words—for there could not truly be nothing, could there?—as you continued to talk.

“Truth be told, I had no initial reason for visiting your hometown. I only decided to make the stop when I remembered it was your hometown; I am glad I did so. You looked happier today than I have ever seen you.”

Trey could not help the way his breath hitched, the way his heart practically stopped, if only just for a second, before beating in full force once more. Yes, he had been happy—and, only to himself, he would not deny that in addition to seeing his family once more, seeing you enjoy their company added to that.

Whatever downer had affected him with the situation regarding the mysterious letter, and man thereafter, had been trumped by the knowledge that you had chosen to go for him. Despite him never having asked, you did so out of your own volition. It had not even been an afterthought—you chose to make it your first stop in Rosehearts.

He knew it to not be a lie, for when had you ever? Excuses, definitely, but never lies. Was it possible for happiness, affections to increase tenfold with this new fact?

“My liege,” he began, quietly. The air inside the carriage was fragile, and he did not know what would happen if it were to break, “I wish I could do more for you sometimes.”

“You’re already more than enough,” You let out a sigh. You had allowed yourself to appear slightly more vulnerable around him since the day you caught a cold, but perhaps today had worn you out for you are even more so now. “If you do any more, it would be even harder to let you go when the time comes.”

“Unlike Ace and Deuce, my ambitions are hardly lofty,” the growing desires, yes, but not his ambitions. He was more than satisfied with him being your lone knight. “It will be some time before that.”

You licked your lips, “Yes, I suppose so. But even so…”

“But even so,” he repeated, forcing himself to finally look away from you.

Trey always thought himself average—good but never extraordinary—and he had always been content with that. He was lucky with the family he had, loving and kind; the friends he had, loyal and caring; the position he had, the opportunities he had in life.

But just this once, he thought he would have liked to be extraordinary for you.

Trey Clover could recognize that choppy purple hair anywhere. The cat ears themselves were a dead giveaway.

“Chenya!”

What he did not expect was for the magician to pop up in the middle of your study past supper time. The two of you had startled—he had known Chenya’s specialty had to do with disappearing from one place and appearing at another, but he had not known he could travel such far distances now. Trey had mostly been surprised, but you… you looked nervous.

“My liege,” He approached you, as if to reassure you. Perhaps you thought his friend to be dangerous? He would not blame you, his having appeared out of nowhere. “Please do not fret, this man is—”

“Oh no, looks like I arrived at the wrong time, wrong place!” Chenya cried, glancing between him and you. “My, my, did not think Trey would be here with you at this time of night. Should I be off, or should he be off?”

“Chenya,” Trey said, not bothering to cover up his confusion, “what do you mean by that? What are you even doing here?”

He had gone ignored, you choosing to answer the magician’s question.

“No, both of you should stay,” He turned to look at you, questions in his eyes, but you refused to even look at him. Still, he could read the look on your face well enough, discomfort and guilt visible in your expression. Why, wondered Trey, his own discomfort growing, why would you not stare him straight in the face?

“Sir Trey… I have kept this from him long enough, have I not?”

“Well, if you're sure!” Chenya appeared relatively unbothered, as if he was the only one who had not noticed the tension in the room, but he knew his childhood friend well, and that one second glance thrown in his direction had spelled out worry—but for who?

“Ah, yes, I have yet to greet you!” Chenya then bowed to you, “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker, magician from the Dukedom of Rosehearts. I am here to represent Lord Riddle Rosehearts, who sends his apologies for having me represent him again. I hope you can understand, though I believe he has already informed you beforehand through a letter.”

“He has, yes,” Despite not looking at him, you must have felt his gaze digging into you because you then revealed information only he would not be in the know of. “Lord Riddle and I have been exchanging letters for some time now, so I am aware his mother hardly gives him any free time—and I thank you, Sir Chenya, for making sure the letters fell in the right hands… and making sure his replies fell into mine.”

“Hold on,” said Trey, the pieces finally fitting together in his head. In truth, his head was beginning to hurt, thinking suddenly a strenuous activity. The ideas, the possibilities, the likely story that was forming in his head—he could not say he liked any of it.

“My liege, the person you had been exchanging letters with this whole time was Riddle? Since when?”

“Since the Duchess Rosehearts had you removed as Lord Riddle’s knight.”

More than a year. You and Riddle had been in correspondence for more than a year and even if you wanted to deny it, he could tell that it was deliberately hidden from him, and there had to be a reason for you to do so.

“And the person you met up with the first time we went to Rosehearts was no academy friend. It was Chenya,” It was declared rather than asked, for he knew what the answer would be.

“Yes.”

“And just what was it that you and Riddle had been discussing all this time that you felt it had to be hidden from me?”

“Trey,” answered Chenya. “They have been talking about you, Trey.”

“Sir Trey,” you finally looked at him, and although it might be hypocrisy, Trey wished you did not. “I apologize that I did not tell you. We knew you would be against it, and maybe that was a sign we never should have planned it in the first place, but… please understand that Lord Riddle and Sir Chenya just care for you, and I, too, have grown to—”

“Just say it. Please,” pressed Trey, wanting you to prove him wrong.

“From the very start… we had been planning a way to get you back to Rosehearts. As Lord Riddle’s knight.”

Wordlessly, Trey stood up and left your study, all without so much a single bow farewell to you.

It took a lot for Trey to be angry. Even now, seated at the edge of the fountain to cool off, he could not describe himself as angry. He wanted to be angry, really, because if something had to do with him, should he not be in the know of it? However, though he was not angry, he was certainly frustrated, and upset, and just… conflicted.

Yes, what you said was true—if you had told him the plan from the very start he would have been against it, would likely pen a letter to Riddle and Chenya immediately telling them to stop whatever strings they were trying to pull. However, he would not have felt nearly as conflicted then. He understood that their intentions were well and good, but now more than ever he felt those intentions unwarranted.

Maybe he would have been more accepting of the idea back then, when he had felt nothing but respect for you, but he could hardly say the same now.

It was only after the trip to his hometown that he had come to terms with the extent of his feelings for you, the feelings that were continuing to grow with each day he spent by your side as your knight. Though no clear date had been given, the idea of him leaving the estate, leaving you had upset him more than you likely knew.

No, Trey could be in denial all he wanted, but he was not blind. You hinted at being upset at the idea too, so then why…

Of course he missed his family, and of course he missed his friends, the town which he grew up in; you clearly knew it too, but he had thought you had merely implied you would make more trips to Rosehearts, or at least allow him some time off for a trip home. Obviously he had underestimated the limits of your graciousness, as you had been trying to gauge his receptiveness to returning home for good.

There was no exaggeration to his words—he knew what it meant to leave your side. It would mean never seeing you daily, perhaps even at all; even if he had the chance to see you again, he certainly had zero excuse to speak a word to you or exchange letters with you, unless the two of you mutually decided to converse in secrecy.

His position as your knight is the only connection he has to you, the only way he can go and talk to you, see you as freely as was allowed by propriety in public, and as freely as you allowed behind closed doors.

There was always a way to return home, but there would never be a way to return to you.

“Sir Trey,” He had spotted you hesitate to come closer to him minutes ago; had even heard you chasing after him when he had left, the clack of your shoes and the sound of your footsteps more than familiar to him, but he had not made a move to call you out.

“You can sit down,” He lifted his left hand and patted the stone, thus he found himself seated to your right. These days he has always been at your right.

“I have already forgiven you,” Trey began to say. He had not lied just then, knowing that in his heart it was impossible to be mad at you—he had always been the type to let things slide, although this one instance was not so simple as to just wave away, “but I wish to know just what made you choose to accept that plan? What incentivized you? And why did you choose to tell me now?”

“Lord Riddle has the exact same standing as me, so when he had asked for a favor I knew it would have been a good way to forge a connection with his family,” you replied, not sounding proud of yourself. “He knew the duchy was mostly fair and just, so if you had transferred here you would be treated well. He did not ask for it, but I made the extra step to make you my personal knight.

Perhaps that was both the best and worst thing I could have done.”

“My liege,” He stole a glance at you, only to find you already looking at him. He had an inkling as to what you had meant to say, but for his own doubts and his own heart, he had wanted to hear it from you yourself, “your decision to not receive my oath, was it because you thought—?”

“That you would eventually return to being Rosehearts’ knight once they found a way to lift your ban from the estate? Yes,” you let out a long sigh, tearing your eyes away from him to look at the moon. “The reason that I tried to keep you at an arm’s length in the first several weeks? Yes.”

“Why you spoke of my leaving you as if it was a near inevitability?” he added, “That as well?”

“Yes,” Another monosyllabic reply had escaped your lips, and Trey was beginning to tire of them. You seemed to know this as you expounded on what you truly felt.

“Perhaps it is improper to admit this so brazenly, but despite my efforts I could not help but wish you would never leave my side. I knew that with your presence gone from the estate I would miss the baked goods you so often made me, the gentle chiding and reminders when I was stubborn, the quiet but enjoyable company you provided on the trips we often embarked together.

I am afraid that my attachment to you runs deeper than what society dictates is proper—how quickly it happened, it has just been a year—and though I know it will make you happy to be home, I do not want to let you go.”

“Then do not let me go. What do you know of what will make me happy?” Trey asked. All his life he had let things pass him by, but the knowledge that your feelings had been similar to his all this time had spurred him on to finally fight back and take instead of merely giving.

“The first time you smiled at me, and the times thereafter, it was as if you had infected me with your joy for I, too, had felt joy. When you told me you had visited my hometown just for me, my chest bloomed like… like the blossoming flowers becoming the most delicious of fruits,” Had his face not been red before it certainly had been now, a most terrible analogy at the most terrible of times—but the laugh you let out helped waver the tension between the two of you, so he supposed it was alright.

“Tonight, even with all these different emotions you have made me feel, I cannot help but feel inexplicably exhilirated just at the sight of you—at you seated beside me, being vulnerable with me, finally telling me how you see me—what I am to you. I have always wondered what I truly am to you,” Trey had suddenly stood up, his heart fluttering as your hand—your writing hand which you kept ungloved—pulled at his sleeve to stop him.

He heeded your wish for him to not rise, instead choosing to kneel halfway, emulating the unfinished ceremony from the day he became your knight. He still had not let go of your hand; he wished he had been ungloved, too.

“I do not have the same eloquence that you possess, but for certain I possess the same attachment to you that you claim to have to me, perhaps moreso. It had just been a year, but it was every day for one year, so even with how improper this is, I hope you do not blame me or cast me aside—cherishing you was unavoidable, and my feelings now are inescapable.”

You chose to remain silent, but the way you looked at him let him know he was seen, heard by you. That was all he really wanted—to look at you and have you looking at him the same way too. He could not help himself then, adjusting his hold on your hand, pulling it closer to him.

“My liege,” It is less him addressing you and more him asking you for permission.

“Trey,” you whispered, what he knew to be a secret between you, him, and the moon. Courage granted by you, he pressed his lips against your hand, the oath he never completed. The wait was well worth it, thought Trey, for he meant it now more than he ever would have before.

“I might not be the strongest of knights, nor am I the most skilled, but if there is something I can offer you… then let it be my loyalty, the heart that beats for you. Whatever you want me to become, I will stay beside you however way you wish.”

“It will hardly be a normal relationship,” you replied, a tinge of melancholy hidden beneath the sweetness. Still, you do not reject him—your fingers came to intertwine with his, and Trey resisted the urge to kiss each individual tip

“I will be yours—your knight or something beyond that—for as long as you will have me,” You smiled, and oh, your smiles were always so lovely, lovelier when directed at him, but tonight might have been the loveliest it has ever been.

“Then I will be yours as well—not just your liege, but yours.”

sequel | masterlist

#trey clover x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #trey clover #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x you #twst imagines #nathya twst writing

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imsparky2002 · 11 months

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Canon vs Creepster: Kagami

Canon!Kagami *Bowing gracefully* You have quite the extrodinary outfit. I have a love for western films, watched them all the time back in Japan.

*Kagami Herushingu smiles, surprised at how... calm this girl is to see another version of herself. She tips the hat in response*

Herushingu: Well, thank ya kindly, darlin’! Name’s Herushingu, pleasure to meet ya!

Canon!Kagami: Kagami Tsurugi. I must say, your accent is lovely, yet is quite different from your name. Are you by any chance American?

Herushingu: Yes’m, Born and raised in Texas!

Canon!Kagami: Hmm... how interesting. I don't sense any sort of falsehood about you. Clearly this is the result of some sort of accident. Are you by any chance from an alternate reality?

*Herushingu's eyes widen in surprise. She's right on the money!*

Herushingu: Just precisely, ma’am. Where I’m from, my kin are monster hunters, same as I am ma’self!

Canon!Kagami: Oh! And by monsters, you are referring to more supernatural species? In our world, the only sort of monsters are those who were changed by the villainous Hawk Moth.

*Thinking of the butterfly, Herushingu can't help but snigger a little*

Canon!Kagami: Yes, yes, he looks as stupid as his name.

*Herushingu sobers back up and tells her counterpart about her team and the type of monsters they face*

Herushingu: Exactly right on that front, darlin’! We’re talkin’ real monsters, vampires, phantoms, demons! The kind that live to terrorize the in’cent folk! Not to mention the most vile. Human killers!

Canon!Kagami: What gives one person the right to decide when another’s life should end. It’s just…dishonorable!

Herushingu: S'like my mama says. "Humans are the only 'monsters', because they have no reason to kill."

*Canon!Kagami looks a little jealous and sad that her mother isn't as close to her.*

Canon!Kagami: Does your mother treat you well?

*Herushingu frowns, looking concerned for her counterpart.*

Herushingu: Yeah, she can be a bit rough on the edges sometimes, but we get on just fine! I get the feelin’ ya need someone to talk to, hon.

Canon!Kagami: *Trying to stay strong* I... I try hard to stay strong, in order to make her proud. But sometimes... *voice quivering* I feel as though I am nothing but a disappointment.

*She desperately hold back a sniffle, as Herushingu embraces her, letting the girl sob into her shoulders. It pains her to think of a world where her mama would treat her with such cruelty.*

Herushingu: Here, now, that’s a load’a nonsense! I’ve only just met ya, but so can already tell ya got a fightin’ spirit! The only person who’s standards ya need to live up to are your own, and I’m sure you got plenty to be proud of!

Canon!Kagami: *Sniffing* I... I'm sorry for breaking down. That isn't like me. *Trying to regain composure* I... I suppose I like fencing. I mean... my mother made sure that happened. *Frowning once again* Do... do you like fencing?

Herushingu: (smiles) I do love a good sword-crossin’ every now and again! But if I’m bein’ honest, my trusty guns get me through the most battles!

Canon!Kagami: What is a... gun?

Herushingu: (Blinks a few times) Oh, boy…

Canon!Kagami: *A little bit later* So, do you have heroes you fight alongside? Some sort of team?

Herushingu: (Smiles) Yeah, I got ma partners, Marinette and Adrien.

Canon!Kagami: *Feels a quiver in her stomach once again.* Oh... what are they like?

*Herushingu tells her about their jobs and personalities, and notices Canon!Kagami looking sadder and sadder as she continues*

Herushingu: Well, Marinette’s real spunky, she’s somethin’ of a mad scientist! Sometimes I don’t know what she’s talkin’ about, but it’s cute how excited she gets! And Adrien…well, he’s one of a kind. So sweet, but so lively at the same time! Don’t know what I’d do without em to be honest!

*Canon!Kagami sobs once again. Memories of events from canon are flashing through her mind. Herushingu frowns. What on earth happened between her and her partners in this world?*

Herushingu: What... what's wrong?

Canon!Kagami: It's... it's complicated.

*Herushingu's eyes narrow. Something happened to this girl, and she wants to know what*

Herushingu: Please tell me... if ya want to.

*And she did. She told Herushingu everything that had gone down. All of the highs and lows.... and Herushingu was PISSED*

Herushingu: Darlin’…I don’t even know WHAT to say. They put you through hell emotionally and yet you still stand by em! If they don’t realize how lucky they are to have you in their lives, I may do something I’d regret later!

Canon!Kagami: No... please don't. They're perfect for each other, just not for anyone else. Focus on your own partners, keep taking good care of them.

Herushingu: (Sighs) If you say so, lil lady!

Canon!Kagami: ... Is there any way I can visit you?

Herushingu: Well, here lemme give you my number. I got a few friends who know some witchy stuff, so they should connect across dimensions. Call whenever ya want!

Canon!Kagami: I will, thanks!

And that’s the last of the trio meeting their canon self! I feel that Kagami was done dirty in the show. Not just by Marinette and Adrien, but also with how the writers decided her and FELIX would be a good idea. I may do the villains and classmates as well, but I don’t know yet. Once again thank you to Weeby for assisting with the writing, and make sure to check out the previous crossovers with Marinette and Adrien. Reblog, reply, post and ask to spread the love. @artzychic27 @msweebyness

#kagami tsuguri #kagami #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marinette salt #adrien salt #kagami sugar #canon vs au #creepsters #creepsters au #tomoe salt

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imperialmadam · 2 years

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How the Villains of Rings of Power Won Me Over

I wasn’t excited about either of the main villains of Rings of Power (Adar and Halbrand-as-Sauron) until I saw them.

1. Adar. When I first heard about him, my reaction was kind of eh, okay. I didn’t have a problem with an evil elf, but I thought he would be just a lesser version of Sauron. The poster of a spiky black gauntlet holding a sword didn’t help that impression.

But it quickly became clear how much care went into creating this character. He’s no Sauron Lite. We see ruthlessness, but we also see kindness, especially in his first scene where he puts a dying orc out of his misery. Then we get his backstory. Giving a face and a name to one of the elves corrupted by Morgoth was an excellent idea. He also sees orcs (sorry, Uruk) as people, which we don’t see very much in Tolkien, although Tolkien apparently struggled with that.

The writers also gave Adar heroic traits, such as the fact he got to give an inspiring speech before the battle. And it wasn’t really that evil. Aside from the last sentence (close our fist around these lands), he talked about endurance and freedom, not conquest.

It also helps that Joseph Mawle has incredible charisma and screen presence. I can’t take my eyes off him when he’s on screen.

2. Sauron. I was concerned about Sauron’s depiction. This was the first time we’d truly get Sauron as a character on screen. (I don’t really count The Hobbit, he just shows up as a shadow or armoured figure, says and does evil stuff, and is defeated.) I hoped the RoP writers would get his charm, manipulation and desire for order.

As someone following speculation about the show, it was hard to avoid the idea that Halbrand was Sauron. Even before the show started, people were saying that. And he was showing many Sauronish traits - being a blacksmith, his burst of violence, his advice to Galadriel about mastering people, the fact he’s done evil things. One on its own, fine, but all of them together? The H=S theory seemed more likely each episode. And I didn’t like it. Halbrand just didn’t catch my attention enough. Hot, charming and snarky, sure. A decent character in his own right, but too ordinary to be Sauron. Before, I was worried Adar would be a lesser Sauron, and now I was worried Halbrand-as-Sauron would seem dull after the complex and intriguing villain that is Adar.

But I knew the execution would make or break the reveal, and it worked! I could see Halbrand as the Dark Lord. I can see why the finale was Charlie Vickers’ favourite - he truly shone in that episode. The way he went from charming to terrifying when Galadriel rejected him was incredible, and felt very Sauron-like. They also got the idea that Sauron does want to help Middle Earth - but he thinks that means ruling over it. And that final shot of Sauron walking into Mordor with his cloak blowing around him was breathtaking. Halbrand was not the Sauron I imagined, but he is Sauron.

I should rewatch the season. I will probably enjoy Halbrand more now I know he pulled off the Sauron reveal.

(I have to say I expected a more dramatic Sauron transformation than Halbrand dyeing his hair and putting on a black cloak - but I suppose he had to stay recognisable as Halbrand.)

#rings of power #adar #halbrand #sauron #joseph mawle #charlie vickers

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alyjojo · 9 months

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Family Ties 🤍 - July 2023 - Taurus

Overall energy: 6 Wands

Two stories in this one area. First off, regardless of how many siblings you have, I only see one, and they’re trapped in the same dynamic as your parents. Because something has always worked out, no one has spoken up, forced a change, told the more toxic person to get their crap together, setting boundaries…it’s always been perceived as normal. Accepted. “That’s just how they are.” And worked around.

I see you overcoming this. It will be passed down, but not to you, to your sibling…unfortunately in some ways 😓 Despite that, I see your experience with your family as mostly positive, regardless of the issues they may have, they’re very supportive of you, generous to you and you to them in return. They may be pretty conservative or religious in nature, you’ve gained a lot in wisdom & maturity, possibly education and a good living or career as well, by having had them as your family ❤️ They may have some level of status, privilege or entitlement that comes with their name or reputation. Are they perfect, nope not at all. Are they good for you, yes.

Father: The Devil & Temperance

Yours is the only reading where Dad comes first, but it’s necessary to explain his side first, or Mom’s side won’t be clearly understood. He’s the problem. He is extremely selfish and self interested, always thinking of his way is the right way and there is no other. This may fall in line with The Hierophant in your section, your family is very conservative, because of him. Father is the head of the household, the one that controls the money, the goings on, the reputation and status of the home on an authoritative and/or “morally righteous” way. But it’s toxic, and everyone seems to know it but him. His father may have been the same, and his grandfather before him. Traditions are extremely important to him as the family unit, but more often than not he’s out to please himself, and is extremely defensive should anyone “call him out” for that. I honestly get a “speak when spoken to” sort of vibe with him, but only about the problems - especially his problems. He expects everyone else to get in line because he’s not changing. There could be addictive substances involved with him, something about how he “pleases himself” is actually toxic, but he celebrates it, and comes off as quite controlling…but not over everything, that’s the confusing part. Niche things that only apply to him. Like if HE believes that a certain school is the best then every child will go to this school, even if it’s on the other side of the world, he will die on that hill, there is no argument. Just as an example. Especially when these things reflect him or “the family”, or are financially related. He has high expectations. But for other things, he doesn’t care so much and is generally peaceful. You never really can know what to expect, except that his perspectives & desires are the only ones that matter, and he will always get his way. People may walk on eggshells around him, especially Mom, regarding certain topics.

Mother: 4 Cups, 9 Swords rev, The Fool

She is a complacent sort of person, an enabler of sorts when it comes to your father. She isn’t one to take risks or step too far outside of the lines that he has drawn for her, nor is she one to confront his personal demons and take a stand against them. She expects him to heal, change, “quit” if substances or addictions, or to otherwise learn with time. He’ll see “eventually”. She may make excuses for him, his father did xyz so he does too. She may have very little choice in the matter and for the sake of her own sanity, is pretty hands off where he is concerned. That doesn’t mean she likes it, but more like she pretends it isn’t a problem, or personally believes that moving away from whatever he does would be foolish, like that’s how things are supposed to be. She drinks the same Kool-Aid, and though she misses out on excitement or opportunities for joy, she doesn’t seem to mind letting them pass her by. The very definition of submission, she could also be quite religious. She could be fearful of you or your sibling/s breaking traditions that would set you apart from the family, she only wants to keep everyone together. “The family” as a unit is very important to them both. Am I reading for the Mafia? If so, good on ya mate, we cool 😎

Siblings: 6 Cups, The Magician rev, 10 Pentacles, The World

You’re very nostalgic about your sibling, your childhood, and how things were. 6 Wands on your side is about recognition, I get that a particular person, or more than one even, are very important or prestigious in some way. You have recognized the manipulations, lies, the clever maneuvers, how your childhood, parents, or situations were actually toxic. Because it is what it is. But they also drink the Kool-Aid, and this is what has separated you from them, even if you two still interact and love each other, under the surface you’re very different. Your siblings feel that all of these things you did/said were toxic (but you’re being justified here that you’re right & trust yourself), they see this family as identity, generational inheritances, the foundation upon which you’re all built. It’s something to honor, they’re lovingly nostalgic about the same things you find to be wrong. You’re like night and day. They are entirely unconscious to what the problems are, so healing them is not an option, they will continue the same traditions as set forth by their parents, grandparents, etc. With any single one of these people, if you spoke up, you’d be the one that’s wrong, not them. I’m sure you already know this.

Grandparents: Ace of Swords rev & 9 Pentacles rev

I only get a grandmother, she doesn’t talk about either parent’s issues, she’s probably not much of a talker at all. Others also may not be fully honest with her about what’s really going on in this family unit, she feels like an outsider. If there is some level of codependency, either with her or Mom, she doesn’t see that as an issue. She doesn’t really see anything as an issue, but no one is particularly close with her either, maybe just Mom if anyone. She expects people to deal with their issues and get over them, it’s that simple. She is an Empress, the matriarch of the family, someone who may have several children, and she sees no issue with how they or you were raised, this is simply how things are and everyone will grow and mature like they should. Or has, in her opinion. She’s actually very positive, and cares for everyone equally, she’s just blissfully unaware, or something like that.

Spiritual Ancestors: 5 Cups, 3 Pentacles, Justice

Your ancestors are disappointed with your family, with 3 Pentacles I’m getting three people, maybe more, and they’re all united against you. You’re the one with the problem, you’re the one that stands out or isn’t like them. I don’t get a big confrontation having occurred, but you may have spoken your mind about some of these things before, and it’s set you apart from the rest of the family. It’s their way of the highway. Ace of Swords shows the truth being connected to you, your ideas and words have shown the truth of these matters, probably on several occasions. I do see that you love your family very much. Your Spirit wishes your family would see these truths for themselves and recognize your ideas & thoughts as a positive thing, because you’re not coming off as negative or wanting to “attack” anyone…you’re just right. Toxic is toxic. Manipulation is manipulation, there’s no room for interpretation when things simply are what they are. Unless they can see it for themselves though, it will remain you vs. them. They may say what they say or act how they act, your Spirit just wants you to be kind, love them while you’ve got them, and lead by example however you can. Everyone generally has something positive to offer and people aren’t being appreciated for those things, that could also be them telling you that, if you’re in some kind of ego over them being this way. You can’t change people that don’t want to change, but sometimes love does that over time, naturally, without us having to force it.

Oracle:

Secrets

Conceal plans and actions from those not ready to accept you as you are.

Precision

The desire to do things precisely is useful as long as it goes not devolve into rigidity.

#taurus tarot reading #family ties #July 2023 #free tarot #Taurus #tarot #generational trauma #healing family relationships

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epraim1992 · 4 months

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White's Origin

I always thought that White's identity might be important. Since Old Man Zangetsu turned out to be Yhwach.

White was the first hollow Aizen created using the soul of a dead shinigami.

From what I could research it seems like White's identity was supposed to be a plot point that was solved.

I think he is Aizen's fourth follower that was obscured from Gin's flashback. I think he was hidden because he is a known character.

My theory is that he is Ganryu from Bleach: Memories of Nobody.

Kubo did make the Valley of Screams canon and Ganryu does have long white hair similar to White.

In the film the Ryōdoji Family was banished from the Soul Society 1,000 years ago the same time as the Quincy War. I think they were banished for siding with the Quincy.

I think they had the same philosophy as the Quincy concerning hollows, that they should be destroyed. And here is why I think so.

I think White being like an asauchi is a clue he is connected to Oetsu and I think it will turn out to be ironic like White choosing Masaki as a vessel.

Oetsu's zanpakuto Sayafushi can cut anything which I think is influenced by the legend of the competition between Masamune and Muramasa to create the better sword. Masamune is known for creating holy swords while Muramasa demonic cursed blades. I think this is a hint that the Ryōdoji Family created hollow killing weapons that extinguished hollows which were later replaced by the zanpakuto.

I think it could tie into the Shinigami practice of striking hollows from behind, so they don't learn their human identity. I didn't like how this was played out because we were led to believe that Ichigo was killing humans the whole time.

Then later it was clarified that hollows are really being cleansed not killed. It felt like cheap tension.

But maybe the methodology of striking hollows from behind comes from a foregone time when Shinigami were actually killing hollows.

As to for how he died. I think the story will come full circle and it will be revealed that White died giving Ginjo his shinigami powers.

Aizen has been involved in every important event in the series. So, I think he engineered the event to carry out experiment to turn a Fullbringer into a substitute Shinigami for his hollowfication research since Fullbringers have powers closer to hollows.

To bring up some further points, I think White choosing Masaki as host could be a signal to a past relationship with the Quincy. Maybe he wanted to empower a Quincy.

Another possible hint are the names. The name of Oetsu's castle is the Hōōden which translates to Fenghuang Palace and a fenghuang is the Chinese equivalent phoenix. And Ryōdoji means Dragon Hall Temple.

The Fenghuang is usually paired with the Chinese dragon who can control water and make it rain. Which might add symbolism to why White attacks during the rain. Ichigo hates the rain, but I wonder if White liked it as a Shinigami similar to Tosen liking clouds while Kakyo didn't.

I'm hoping White could lead to a bigger discussion about asauchi and their origins. I was shocked at the reveal that zanpakuto are made of Shinigami, but the topic was swept under the rug and never addressed again. I'm hoping the anime does expand this discussion.

#bleach tybw #bleach white #bleach ganryu #bleach asauchi #zanpakutō #zanpakuto

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wolfgangisdead · 2 years

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in the stars

part one

warnings fluff, angst

@ghostscap for u

Her fingers pluck the strings of her harp absentmindedly before she strikes a despondent chord loud enough to echo off the walls. Damn these large rooms and their emptiness. Elrond and Gil-Galad both look up from their work to send her a questioning look—they’d been meeting lately to celebrate Galadriel and her soldiers, with Gil-Galad being apprehensive and Elrond being the dashing good person he is, has been trying to convince Gil-Galad to send her home to the Undying lands.

“Are you alright, Meleth nîn?” Elrond sits upright, sending her a worried look. It seems to please Gil-Galad that he’s worried, but the look is quickly hidden by his own mild concern.

Ninaelnith sends him a funny look. “I’m fine, just didn’t get the chord correctly. Nothing worth worrying about. Carry on about your business, or else I’ll simply go and entertain the children instead.”

“They would not know how to fully appreciate your music,” Gil-Galad chimes, raising an amused eyebrow at her. “There is something on your mind. Name it and be free from it.”

“What if, on the off chance you are wrong, Adar, and Galadriel is right, Sauron returns? What are we to do then?” She folds her hands neatly in her lap, fiddling with her thumbs as she speaks. “We have lost far too much already to lose anything more.”

Gil-Galad doesn’t treat her concern like he does everyone else. He’d normally treat her concern like it was nothing if she were anyone else, but she’s not. She’s not everyone so he merely sighs and leans back in his chair.

“However great a threat he may be, Ninaelnith, we will be greater.” He says simply, hiding the uncertainty from her well enough. But Elrond is skeptical. “You will be safe. You will not need to worry.”

The unspoken meaning was that she would not have to pick up a sword for as log as she lives. But it wouldn’t be as simple as that, and the feeling leaves an unsatisfying, uncomfortable ache in her stomach that only time will be able to fix. Assuming Sauron truly is gone.

It’s an ache that Elrond brings up when they’re finally alone, away from everyone else and in the confines of their chambers.

“Meleth nîn, I’m sure everything will be alright.” He lifts her chin to press a quick kiss to her lips. “You’ve been fiddling with your thumbs constantly. It’s not good for your health to worry so much.”

“You can’t blame me for worrying, you know as well as I do that Galadriel makes good points. Who knows if he’s even gone? Just because we haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” She clutches the fabric of her sleeves tightly, bunching them up until her knuckles turn white. “Something just doesn’t feel right, Elrond. It’s very worrisome.”

He looks at her a moment, coming to kneel before her. “I promise no harm will ever befall you. You are safe here.”

Ninaelnith smiles at him, pressing her forehead against his. “I am not made for war, Elrond. Neither are you. You are a poet, a wordsmith, you are meant for the arts. Should a war come, I could not stand to lose you.”

There’s a smile on his face when he once again lifts her chin to look at her, to really look at her. “I will go nowhere you can’t follow. Now come, shall we go for a walk and wash this stress away?”

“Only if you read me another of your poems, Meleth nîn.” She nuzzles him, nose to nose like a rabbit kiss. “I would feel much better and at ease if you did. Perhaps I might turn it into song, with your permission of course.”

“You have my permission to do with my works as you please, you know that.” He tilts his head as his arm slides around her waist, pulling her to walk at his side. “Now, I’ve heard that you’re working on a special project. Care to share what your new work is?”

“No, it’s supposed to be a surprise. You’ll hear it when I’m ready.” She leans her head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly. “Where is Galadriel anyway? She’s been gone for so long. I miss her.”

“She’s fine, I assure you. She can handle just about anything that comes her way.” Elrond waves his hand dismissively and smiles at her. “She’ll be glad you miss her, Ninaelnith. You know friends are so few and far between for her.”

“Well, it’s not her fault her brother died. I would’ve done the same thing if it were you.” She huffs, pouting. “I may not be any good at a sword, but I think I can manage.”

He laughs. “Not on my behalf, please. I’d much prefer you safe and sound.”

“I can do that.”

—

By nightfall, when Elrond is hunched over his desk in the corner of the room, and she’s nestled under the covers holding onto his pillow tightly. She sleeps marginally peacefully until something changes and she’s tossing and turning, silently, but frightened all the same.

In her dream, or nightmare, rather, she sees violent images flashing before her very eyes. The tree, first, then the roots of the tree blackening and turning into ash before the image shifts and there’s a symbol, a three-pronged symbol. Then it’s back to the tree decaying, the very life the foundations of their people are built upon. An endless, vicious cycle that she can’t seem to wake up from.

She jolts awake, gasping and clawing for air like the nightmare had become worse between her experiencing it and waking up from it. The panic and fear that settles into her bones causes her to haphazardly fall out of bed, feet still entangled in the sheets before she gives up entirely and starts sobbing at the foot of their bed.

She doesn’t know at what point Elrond makes his way to her, but when he does, she’s instantly pulled into his lap, his arms keeping her safe against him.

“Meleth nîn, you’re safe, you’re safe, Ninaelnith.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Was it a nightmare?”

“Oh, it was horrid! The tree, Elrond! The tree was dying and it was terrifying!” She gasps, curling into him like it’d ground her, like he was her tether. “I don’t… It was horrible…”

“You’re okay now,” he brushes her hair away from her face, pausing to look at her frantic and fearful gaze, “breathe, okay, just breathe. Look at me, you’re okay.”

He keeps her in his lap, holding her until he’s certain she’s relaxed. He lifts her up and tucks her back into bed. He pauses for a moment, thinking he should clean up his desk, but decides against it and crawls into bed beside her, making sure to keep a protective hold around her.

“I’m sorry, you were working, weren’t you…?” She turns to look at him, biting her lower lip.

“The work can wait another day, Meleth nîn, you are my first priority.” He says simply. Like it truly didn’t matter to him whether he got his work done or not. “You are my most important priority.”

“Did Gil-Galad tell you to say that?” She rolls her eyes, smiling weakly. “It was just a very odd dream, I’m alright now. I’m sure you’d rather go back to your work.”

He pulls her close to him, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You are a far greater delight to be with than measly papers.”

#elrond #trop elrond #rop elrond #tolkien #tolkien elrond #the rings of power #rings of power #fanfiction

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leopardmask-ao3 · 2 years

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NHH 2022 Day 16: Allium Assurance

Link to the challenge Today’s Word is: Trick or Treat Flowers Characters: Stress, Jevin, various other hermits in minor roles Season: HC 6 Other tags/warnings: Vampires, Word Count: 803

Summary: Garlic flowers are well known for warding away vampires. No one knows of any vampires on Hermitcraft... so why is Stress so keen on packing her ice castle full of the flowers?

Read it on ao3 or

MumboJumbo bled to death<Grian> help <impulseSV> ??? <Grian> somethins wrong witkl <falsesymmetry> you good? Grian bled to death <falsesymmetry> guess not <Tango> what is happening?? <cubfan135> you guys might want to move away from the shopping district <renthedog> I might know what's up <renthedog> I am investigating <PythonGB> don't do anything stupid dude <renthedog> oh yeah he's here <Tango> who??? <Stressmonster101> it's safe in me castle <3 renthedog bled to death <PythonGB> oh dear <Docm77> Ren! <Xisuma> what in the world is happening <GoodTimeWithScar> Guys? Why are their names red? <PythonGB> listen to Stress <Docm77> Ren isn't replying to messages... <PythonGB> he' <Xisuma> Python?? PythonGB bled to death<iJevin> ok that's concerning <Xisuma> I have never seen that death message before <Xisuma> and now four times in one night?? <falsesymmetry> what's with the red names, X? <Xisuma> that's the thing <Xisuma> it means they're unavailable <impulseSV> Unavailable? <Xisuma> They haven't respawned. GoodTimeWithScar bled to death<iJevin> oh shit <cubfan135> DO NOT ENGAGE <cubfan135> ConCorp's defenses and magic weren't enough <cubfan135> vex magic in our bloojk; <Welsknight> Cub D: cubfan135 bled to death <Stressmonster101> get ere NOW <Welsknight> yeah this looks Welsknight bled to death<falsesymmetry> right Stress I'm on my way <Tango> how worried should I be right now <ZombieCleo> you don't bleed so probably fine? falsesymmetry bled to death <iJevin> oh SHIT <Tango> !!! <ZombieCleo> okay so maybe a little worried for everyone else though <Tango> zed please tell me you're at one of your weirdo bases in the jungle or something <Zedaph> desert one yeah impulseSV bled to death <Tango> impulse <Tango> oh <iJevin> we might be screwed

Stress waved Jevin inside. "Is that everybody who's coming?"

"I think so, yeah."

Stress led Jevin to a sizable room deeper in her castle, decorated heavily with purple glass and allium flowers, where Xisuma and Joe waited and Doc paced.

"This must be everyone," Doc agreed anxiously. "Whatever's killing us even took down Falsie with barely a fight! How many of us could possibly have gotten away?"

"There are a few hermits who didn't feel the need to come here for security," Joe replied. "Tango and Cleo, of course - Jevin, I'm surprised you dropped by, although of course there's nothing wrong with that - and then Zedaph, TFC, and Iskall have all found safety in their own homes."

"I fink Iskall's comin' here, actually," Stress corrected.

Joe perked up. "Oh that's fantastic, then! Hopefully he makes it here with all his blood where it's supposed to be."

"Yeah," Stress answered absently, poking through some chests. "Better 'ere than goin' for somebody else, that way I can deal wiv 'im."

"Wait," Xisuma realized. "You said deal with him?"

They were interrupted by an angry hissing near the door - not the single rush of air of a creeper, but something harsher, somehow both more human and completely inhuman.

"That'll be 'im, then. Ah!" Stress finally found what she was looking for: a wooden sword. "Right, I'm going out there."

Jevin eyed Stress's choice of weapon skeptically. "Do you... want some backup?"

Stress unfastened her allium flower crown and looped it around her neck. "I got a handle on this, fanks! You can come along if you want, though, seein' as I don't fink 'e'll go for you. Here, hold this."

Jevin took the allium offered to him. "Uh. Okay."

Stress strode out to the entrance of her castle. There, the two of them saw... Iskall.

He stood at the doorway, not approaching further. His right eye was red, and there was a reddish glow behind the diamond in his left. As Stress came closer, Iskall bared sharp fangs.

"Iskall is a vampire??" Jevin blurted.

"Yep." Stress walked right up to him. Iskall made a motion as if to lunge, but halted some distance from her neck. Stress rolled up her sleeves, showing off another allium tied around her right wrist like a bracelet... then plunged the wooden sword directly into Iskall's heart.

Iskall let out another hiss as he vanished. Stress breathed a sigh of relief and returned her allium necklace to her head with a pin. "An' that's that. I hate to do it, but sometimes 'e just gets like that."

"What." Jevin stared, dumbfounded. "What just happened. What about the other hermits?"

"Oh, now that the vampire what drained 'em is dead, everyone will have the chance to respawn normally," Stress explained. "Includin' Iskall himself. 'E'll feel kinda hungover an' probably really guilty, but 'e'll be actin' normal again for a while."

"How did you know that... any of this would work?"

Stress laughed. "Are you kidding me? Wiv how long I've known Iskall? This ain't the first time this has happened. It's 'alf the reason I keep so many alliums around, besides the fact that they're pretty. Gotta be careful when you're neighborin' a vampire!"

#nhh 2022 promptober #hermitcraft #my hc fic #stressmonster #vampire hunter stress #spot the inspiration from dracula daily

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puckwritesstuff · 2 years

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What happens if TVA! Loki and Main Timeline! Sigyn meets Disaster Evaded AU! Vali?

I kept writing and rewriting this one because it wasn't going the way I wanted it to, and eventually I had to surrender to the characters as they are.

Thank you for the ask!

---

Váli wasn’t quite certain why Heimdall had asked her to survey this particular section of Midgard, but she assumed that her grandfather had his reasons. When she was sent down, she landed near the base of a bluff by the sea. She wore her Valkyrie armor (the first time she’d been sent out since earning it) and her father had leant her Laeveteinn. She could hear arguing at the top of the bluff, loud enough to make out what they were saying.

“Look, I understand, but it’s not here!” one voice said.

“But this is where it’s supposed to be!” the other voice said. “We must have ended up in the wrong universe.”

“How is that even—”

“Because there’s an extant multiverse now, my heart,” the other voice said. “Now give me that so I can get us home.”

Váli realized that she recognized the voices. Moreover, she knew exactly who those voices belonged to. But that didn’t make sense, they should still be on Asgard…

She slowly made her way around the ridge and to a path up the bluff where she wouldn’t be seen. She could see a man wearing a helm with a broken horn and a woman in black and gold. They were arguing over a small, orange device that Váli didn’t recognize. Váli kept low and slowly approached. She drew her sword.

“I can’t believe Mobius let you take this,” the woman muttered.

“‘Let’ is a strong word,” the man said. “Give me another moment, I can get this to work.”

“Work, yes,” the woman said. “But we need the right universe to go home to.”

“Well, give me a moment, darling, I—”

The man paused, looking around. Váli froze, trying not to be seen, but the grass wasn’t that tall, and the bluff wasn’t that steep. He blinked when he saw her.

“Sylvie?”

The woman gasped and looked to Váli. The woman sighed.

“No,” she said. “No, that’s not Sylvie. It’s okay, we aren’t here to cause any harm.”

Váli stood up straight. Approaching them only confirmed that Váli was looking at two adults who exactly resembled her parents. They looked at her like they were seeing a ghost.

“This realm is under the protection of the Throne of Asgard,” Váli said.

“Yes,” the man said, stepping forward. “Váli, it’s—”

Váli gripped the sword tighter and raised it. The man paused, stepping back.

“Who are you?” Váli asked.

“Who do you think we are?” the man asked.

“Not who you look like,” she said.

The man shrugged. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“We’re just trying to get home,” the woman said. “We don’t mean any trouble.”

“Then how do you know my name?” Váli asked.

The two paused, exchanging a look.

“We know another young woman like you,” the woman said. “Váli used to be her name, too.”

Váli lowered the sword slightly.

“Please, there’s no need to fight,” the man said, gesturing to the sword. “We’re not going to cause trouble, I promise.”

Slowly, Váli sheathed the sword. The man nodded, almost studying her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“We have the right place, but the wrong… place,” the man said. “You can tell your grandfather there is no threat to the Nine Realms here.”

“I would think that two Lokis in one universe would be cause for concern,” Váli said. “There are some days it can barely handle one.”

A slow grin spread over Loki’s face.

“You were listening,” Loki said.

“So if you’re from another universe,” Váli said, “how did you end up here?”

“That's a very long story,” Loki said. “But a very good question.”

“Is Nari all right?” the woman asked. “In this time, in this place. Is he safe?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Váli asked.

The woman sighed in relief, turning away.

“Who is Sylvie?” Váli asked.

“You,” Loki said. “From another time. Another place.”

“We’re trying to get home so we can find her,” the woman said.

Váli nodded.

“I don’t think I understand,” Váli said. “But I also don’t think you need me to.”

An orange door appeared out of nowhere and Váli jumped, reaching for her sword.

“No! No, it’s okay!” Loki said. “I think I got it to work.”

He looked back at Váli.

“Go home,” Loki said. “I’m sure your parents are waiting.”

He nodded to the woman before going through the orange door and disappearing. She looked back at Váli before heading through the door herself and it blinked out of existence. Váli reached out to where it was and there was a faint hum in the air that faded quickly.

Finally in New Asgard, Sigyn and Loki appeared in the empty living room, the apple slices still slowly browning on the coffee table. The two didn’t say anything for a moment, but Sigyn slowly sunk down onto the couch, her head in her hands, and started to cry. Loki sat next to her, pulling her close.

“She’s okay,” he muttered. “We’ll find her, it will all be okay.”

He kissed her temple and she collapsed in his arms.

#prompt #fanfiction #vali #sigyn #loki #logyn #loki x sigyn #Love Duty and Glorious Purpose fic #LDGP Main Timeline #LDGP Disaster Averted AU

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yakshamenogias · 2 years

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⚠︎𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗⚠︎

{Episode 2}

!!TW: THIS EPISODE CONTAINS...!!

☝︎CHARACTER DEATHS☟︎︎︎

After waiting for what felt like three minutes, three weeks had passed by, and it was soon going to be that day.. the day Y/n looked most forward to. "Are you sure you're ready, Y/n?" The six-eyed samurai asked, slightly concerned for health. "Yeah, of course! Are the rest doing alright?" Y/n questioned. Frankly, she was worried about his health more than the others, but she didn't want him to know that she cared. Sure, he temporarily took care of the girl while MuzanKibitsuji kept constantly working... But that's irrelevant to her now.

"Yeah.. I suppose they're fine. Your brother's pissed." Kokushibo mumbled, making sure he didn't utter his master's name. "Listen Koki, you should leave before any of the humans se-" A gust of wind passed by, and the kizuki was behind Y/n in a defensive position. As she turned around, her eyes widened. "Giyuu..?" She whispered. Kokushibo held the male's sword, restraining him from attacking his master's sister.

Tomioka'seyes widened. "W-Who the hell.. are you..." He trailed off, collapsing into Kokushibo's arms. "I'm sorry.. Tomio~Kun." Y/n whispered, reverting to her human form and carrying the male on her shoulder.

Walking into the house, her eyes were watering - as part of her act, of course - and her clothes here ripped. "H-Help him.. please! He was injured protecting me!" As everyone looked over, they were shocked that the strongest child was unconscious from a single interaction with a demon. {Could it have been one of the twelve kizuki? If so... We need to leave, and quickly...} Sabito thought to himself, preparing first aid for Tomioka's cuts and bruises-which of course, wasn't fully caused by Y/n, she'd feel bad. So she placed a couple of scrapes on his arms and cheek with a broken twig. And the bruise was caused by Kokushibo when he knocked the boy out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ❀Makomo❀ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Giyuu left a while ago to look for Y/n. He hasn't been back for over ten minutes. Could he have been attacked? No, of course not. Tomioka wouldn't falter even to a lowermoon. Meaning... That either this was a targeted attack, or.. this was Y/n's doing. I glanced over and noticed Sabito was in the same state as me. Restless. However, Sabito sat up in bed, sword in hand. {Did he finally catch on? No... He's worried for both of them... Sweet, but I'm still sure she's a demon. So if he won't kill her... Then I will... Although.. it'll hurt the boys. So I'll kill her in secret before they get too attached.} And that's when I saw him. Covered in cuts and bruises, a nearly unconscious Tomioka came into the house, carried by a struggling Y/n.

"He was injured protecting me!" Bullshit. She had to have done this. As I said, he wouldn't falter to even a lowermoon kizuki. And uppermoons don't even travel up to this mountain. So either this was planned.. or Y/n was Tomioka's attacker. I glance over and see Sabito tending to Giyuu's wounds. {This is my chance. Urokodaki is in a separate room too. It's just too perfect.} I stood up, walking towards Y/n with my blade in hand, on the side opposing Sabito and Giyuu so neither would notice. "Y/n..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ☯︎Y/n☯︎ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Worriedly, I focus all of my attention on Tomioka and his healing process. {He should be healing now... Even the most below-average demon regenerates faster than that.} And that's when it clicked-he's a human. Of course, I already knew that but still. He can't regenerate like me or anyone else. Humans regenerateslowl-

I was stopped by something sharp-yet-familiar against my neck. An iron sword. Wielded by Makomo. "H-Huh? Makomo~Chan! What are you..." Interrupted mid-sentence, I was against a tree far from the house. "Today is the day you tell me the truth. What is your name?" The small girl's friendly and sweet demeanor must've all been for show. Plus, her grip was tight, way too tight. Frankly, I found it hot that she was finally standing up and "protecting" her brothers. "Ngh- I t-told you! I'm Y-Y/n!" I winced, falling to my knees and slightly tearing my dress after she let go. "You're so persistent, aren't you? No one talks like how you do. 'I am a peaceful human,' what a crock of bull. Humans don't just fucking announce that to strangers who just tried to kill them. Your mortal appearance seems to be about 14-15, so the same age as us. You fucking pedo. I don't know how old you are, but I know you shouldn't be getting all shaggy with teenagers. Your eyes don't look like an uppermoon's, so you must be some low-level demon. Shame, too. You're so pretty. Too pretty. It disgusts me. You demons aren't fit to be pretty. You should look like the rest of those nasty slimy demons, with a hundred hands and a big green body that prevents you from walking. You're just meant to die, that's it." Makomo lowered her eyelids, forming another glare towards me as she grabbed my chin-tightly, at that.

Slowly raising her sword, she muttered something I still remember to this day.. "Flower Breathing.. First Form- Eh?" She was just about to break her sword when.. Giyuu Tomioka grabbed Makomo's wrist. "Makomo, what are you doing? You've been acting different since Y/n first got here." He frowned, taking the girl's sword from her hand. "No, Tomioka. You've been acting different ever since Y/n got here. Normally you're so energetic, but now look, you were mad at your friend because of some chick you just met." She retorted, standing up and snatching her sword back. ".. You're clearly tired. Let's go to sleep and see how you feel before final se-" Giyuu boredly looked away before Makomo interrupted him. "No! I'm not!" She angrily exclaimed before passing out, falling onto the ground before Giyuu picked her up. "Sorry.." Tomioka muttered as he held his friend.

As the two teenagers walked back, I subtly began to notice... Giyuu doesn't act the same way towards me as his friends.. He seems more cautious but, of course, still friendly. "Hm? Is something wrong?" He asked, turning his head towards me. "O-Oh! Noo.. I was.. looking at Makomo." I awkwardly laughed. "Oh, she'll be fine. She just needed to rest." He muttered, looking at the house only around 20 feet away.

After they got inside, Giyuu and I quietly walked past Sabito and Urokodaki, sitting Makomo down in her bed. "I'll get you a futon tomorrow, for now, you'll have to sleep in either Makomo's, Sabito's, or my futon. Of course, it's your choice, and I won't be mad at who you pick." He added on with a gentle smile as he slipped off his haori and sat down on his bed. By default, I subtly walked over to Sabito's futon, causing Giyuu to give a slightly jealous frown before lying down. I lay down opposite Sabito, our backs pressing against each other as I fell asleep. Sadly, he didn't make any moves on me. Hell, he barely moved at all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One Week Later

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slowly waking up, I noticed everyone else wasn't in their respective futons. Washing up and switching clothes, I moved to the front room to find out what everyone was up to. "Hey.. guys?" She yawned before her eyes widened. They received their nichirin swords today. Just the temporary ones for final selection."Oh, hey! Y/n, you got one too! Sorry, we didn't wait for you to wake up, we were excited." Giyuu smiled as he picked up his sword, along with Makomo and Sabito. "C'mon! We're all gonna look together!" Sabito smiled, waving Y/n over. They all looked the same, except for the hilts. Makomo's was an adorable lilac, Giyuu and Sabito's were a bit plain, and Y/n's hilt had the distinct shape of a skull of some sort. For now, they decided to dismiss the thought.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ One Month Later

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Really? Makomoo~! Why'd you do that." Sabito chuckled, glancing over at Makomo. Y/n and Giyuu were telling him about the event a few weeks ago. Of course, Makomo was with them, or else it wouldn't be fair. "Ehh, leave me alone! I was worried~!" She pouted, punching Sabito's back playfully. They were all laughing and playing around while on their way to town. Tomorrow was the day, the day Y/n was planning for weeks. Final selection. The teenagers were out getting food for dinner that night. Although, they were all supposed to be training today for final selection. "Oo, let's go over there! Their food looks good!" Y/n said, pointing to a food stand nearby.

After they finished eating some delicious hot udon, they walked back. Makomo made the boys hold the coal and food. "Soo.. which one is it, hm?" Makomo cooed, scooting near Y/n. They were now shoulder to shoulder, and the girl's warm breath was gently brushing against Y/n's neck, causing a light shiver to crawl down her spine. "What do you mean..?" Y/n whispered back, slightly nervous. "Giyuu.. or Sabito? You've slept with them both, and you clearly like them. So which one do you like moore~" She smirked."N- Neither, Makomo!" She exclaimed, pushing the girl away. "Suuree~.." She laughed, looking back at the still struggling males carrying the items."Shouldn't.. we help them?" Y/n asked, fiddling with her thumbs. "Nah, they're fine. You should be treated like a queen." Makomo scoffed, slipping her arm through Y/n's, dragging her into the house. "Let's play while we can." She smiled brightly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The day of Final Selection ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up in my f/c bed, yawning. It was today. Today is the day of Final Selection. I slipped on my clothes, and picked up the umbrella I always use. "Mm.. Good morning Sabito! Where's Giyuu and Makomo?" She asked the boy beside her. His pink hair was ruffled-perhaps from restless sleep-and his shirt was just clinging onto his shoulders.

"Hm? Giyuu's taking a shower, and Makomo's brushing her teeth." He yawned, brushing loose strands of hair out of his face. Y/n on the other hand, perked up at Sabito's statement. "Wait.. are they in the same bathroom?" She worryingly asked, grabbing Sabito's shoulders to keep him awake. "Ngh- Quit it.. They are. What's your problem?" He swatted Y/n's hands away. In turn, Y/n wrapped her hands around his neck, jumping onto Sabito's lap as she choked him. "Which bathroom?! Did they go in together, or one at a time?" She began, her grip tightening as she pushed the male down on his back. Placing his hands on her waist, Sabito desperately tried to pull her off, as his circulation was being cut off.

"What the hell are you two doing!?" Y/n recognized that voice. She turned around to see Giyuu Tomioka, eyes narrowed, and his hands in his pockets. "T-Tomioka! I'm glad to se-" She was cut off by the same male leaving the room mid-sentence. Throwing the girl off of him, Sabito rubbed his neck in pain. "What's your issue!?" He exclaimed, his voice slightly scratchy as he stood up. "I.. I'm sorry, Sabito. I've just been hungry.. it's nothing to worry for." Y/n quickly apologized. "Just.. go get dressed. Urokodaki's making breakfast." He groaned, walking off as he kept his hand on his injured neck.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ After eating ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After everyone finished eating, they left out to train with the last hour they had before final selection.

"Hey, Y/n! Train with me!" Makomo called out, waving the demon over. Hesitantly, she walked over, sword in hand as the two sparred. Makomo won nearly every round, making Y/n slightly worry for her health. She hasn't eaten a human for over five months now. Her power was currently at the same level as a low-rank demon.

Finally, that final hour had passed. One minute everyone was walking into the woods together, and the next, Y/n was alone. With exception for a girl she had seen at the entrance. It was a girl with ombre black and purple hair. She looked awfully young, around 13 or 14. Her hair was held up by a purple butterfly clip, to match her colourful haori. She was holding a quite particular looking sword, but she was near death. Fighting against.. a low ranked demon. Y/n had assumed that since they were on equal standpoints. Then, she witnessed a young slayer fall dead right in front of her. Glancing over, the same demon had raised its claws to kill Y/n.. before it exploded into billions of bloody pieces. Taking the incentive, the girl grabbed the slayers corpse quickly, devouring it's entire body within seconds.

After looking around to clarify no eyes were on her, she ran over to the purple-haired girl, slicing off the demon's head without anyone even witnessing the colour of her weapon. "Are you alright?" Y/n asked, wiping the "demon's" blood off her face as she looked over at the weak child. "Y.. Yes. Thank you. I'll be more careful." She smiled before running off into the forest. "Weird.. someone so young trying out for such a position." She whispered to herself before running off to eat more deceased slayers.

After a couple of hours, Y/n found her original group, rushing over to them before she stopped in her tracks. The demon wasn't intimidated by strength or anything.. mainly from height. That demon Makomo and Sabito were facing.. was huge. As Makomo jumped toward the demon, Y/n worriedly called out to her, knowing their differences in strength. But it was far too late.. her head got crushed to a pulp in less than a second. After Makomo had gotten fully eaten, Y/n was ready to kill the demon. Suddenly, her nose scrunched and her eyebrows furrowed. It was a new scent to her, and it made the other demon's run away, including the demon that had just murdered her friend. "Y-Y/n, c'mon! It's the smell of wisterias, final selection's over.." Sabito said. He was clearly devastated about Makomo's death, but trying his best to keep cool.

By the time they had gotten to the official grounds, Y/n finally noticed Sabito holding the unconscious Giyuu Tomioka in his arms. The demon girl decided to take advantage of the silence and look at the surviving participants. There was a smaller girl with quite large... Personalities. Her hair was an odd ombre of green and pink. To Y/n's surprise, the girl she had encountered earlier had also survived. Taking her chance, she decided to walk over and thank Y/n once again for saving her life.

"Pardon me. I wanted to thank you for.. assisting me back there." She asked, clearly not fond of gaining help from others. "Assist? That was anything but an assist, doll. You hadn't even placed a tiny scratch on that low level demon before you were absolutely coated in cuts and bruises. Never think of me as your assistant. I will always be your superior. Don't get it tw-" Y/n was cut off by the excruciatingly loud silence.

There was a table, with different ores placed all around the tabletop. The administrators told everyone to pick an ore. They didn't tell anyone what it was for. Since no one was walking up, Y/n decided to be bold-as per usual-and choose her ore first. After deciding, she gently placed her hand on an ore. Suddenly, she recieved a flashback? No.. a vision of the future. In this vision, she was laying dead with Akaza's beads placed on her body to pay respects. Light gasping, she quickly removed her hand, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed her sudden outburst. Y/n sighed in relief knowing that no one had seen. Calming herself down, she slowly placed her hand on a new ore, and saw a.. blurry sort of vision. All she could make out was a mismatched haori, and long black hair tied into a low ponytail.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she grabbed the ore, handing it to one of the admins before returning to her post beside Giyuu and Sabito. That's when she noticed. Giyuu and Sabito's haori's matched the vision perfectly. It was sort of like a colorblock style. However, she decided to temporarily dismiss the thought as everyone chose their ores-Sabito chose Giyuu's.

After everyone gained their crows, the trio headed home, still depressed-with exception for Y/n, who didn't know you were supposed to be sad after the death of a friend.

Fast forward a few days, today was that day. Not final selection, the day Y/n was actually worried about. The day the kids get their REAL nichirin swords. Along with their crows, but Y/n didn't know that. "Finally! The real ones arrived!" Giyuu widely smiled as he was eager to see how his sword looked.

. "Aha.. right. I mean, I didn't have much training.. What if mine doesn't.. work?" She frowned. "Don't say that, we worked our asses off training you. If the color doesn't change, I'll train you harder." Sabito glanced at Y/n, handing her her nichirin sword. "Oh.. Right.." She muttered. "Alright, on three! One.. two.. three!" Tomioka exclaimed as all three teenagers unveiled their swords. Giyuu and Sabito's swords changed to a dark ocean blue. And Y/n's sword... changed to a dark, red and black ombre. Not only that, the sword was flexible, much like someone else's, but it also stretched to dangerous lengths.

The male who created the sword was freaking out, and talking about how proud he was.. of himself. "Woah.. what does that mean?" Giyuu asked, sitting his sword down and touching Y/n's sword. Urokodaki was far more shocked. "That's.. not sun breathing." He muttered. And with that, Sakonji Urokodaki's darkest dream just came true..

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Skip ahead a couple years, the trio made it past some pretty hard shit before they encountered their first kizukis. You heard correct, there were multiple in the same place. Thankfully, they were all lowermoons, so it wasn't too much of a challenge. Specifically lowermoon 1-4 in that order. Stupid move, but great for them. After Giyuu and Sabito swiftly killed the necks of two lowermoons, they began to tackle lowermoon 4—the highest out of the group. At this time, all three 18 year olds were Kinoe, so they were already close to becoming hashira. However, Y/n noticed something in the distance, an extremely lethal trap. It was a landmine. Y/n wondered who placed such a thing there before focusing her vision, recording the fact that it seemed to have been made completely different from regular landmines used in wars or Kingsmen:The Golden Circle. Smelling a demon directly behind her, Y/n turned around to see the third kizuki behind her, kneeling down in a praising position. Kibutsuji quickly kicked the monster down and sawed off its throat before her friends could notice.

"Well, that one died in a weird position I suppose.." Giyuu lightly chuckled, looking at the lowermoon 3. "Yeah.. let's head to the corps to get our new ranks!!" Y/n happily exclaimed, although a thought was still on her mind. {What happens if two equally powerful hydro demon slayers become hashiras? Would one be some sort of understudy?} She pondered, running slightly faster than the others so she could ask Master Kagya first.

On their way back, the three made an extremely shocking discovery. Muzan Kibitsuji. He was outside of someone's house. No one saw him directly, but they all felt that excruciatingly painful malice. Without a second thought, Y/n ran in head first, exposing her sword. "Ah? My dear si-" The red-eyed male was interrupted by an insanely sharp sword slicing multiple areas of his body at once; his arms, torso, left inner thigh, face, and neck. Giyuu and Sabito wanted to butt in to help, but they never found an opening. "Tch. Disrespect me after I gave you a home to sleep in. So be it, I'll kill you then eat your corpse." He seethed as his injuries healed. Clenching her jaw, Y/n hated the enormous ego of her brother.

And with that, the siblings battle had begun..

Last Episode ☯︎ Next Episode

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aeondeug · 3 months

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After doing more thinking about it, while I had settled on narrative and roleplay being my favorite part of TTRPGs I think we are going to have to accept that this is not the case. It is one of my favorite bits of it, but that doesn't explain my overall fondness for things that aren't strictly narrative focused. I am simply bitchy about how so many of the games I am a player in are combat chess games. I'd like variety and for some of the variety to be in the systems I like most.

This also doesn't take into account that a lot of the fun I have with TTRPGs has nothing to do with the actual playing of the games. And is instead stuff done before or after playing them. Sometimes it is something done without ever playing the game in question. Namely, I really like reading rulebooks. A lot. So much so that I am somewhat confused when people moan about having to learn yet another ruleset. Not just because not every systems is necessarily as tough to learn as 5E but also because the learning of new rules is part of the fun of a TTRPG.

I also like talking about these rules and arguing about them. I may not agree with that one guy I used to talk to who hates narrativist systems and thinks that simulationist ones are the only ones that are good for storytelling but like. I liked talking with him and discussing and arguing about the merits of specific systems and of various gaming philosophies.

There's also my love of DCC. Part of what charmed me about the system wasn't just that it is gonzo and has simpler resolution systems and that it makes fighters a blast to play but that the system cares a lot about history. It includes all of Appendix N in it, as well as some additions to it that make sense. There is a section describing what Appendix N is and its important to the hobby in general. And all throughout the book are small tidbits about why a specific thing in the system works how it does. Some of these tidbits call back to Appendix N. Others to playtesting experiences. Either way, DCC is a game that is concerned with the history of fantasy and fantasy roleplaying games. It is a game so filled with love for these things that it hopes to god that you too will be filled with a love for it. That you'll want to do the supplemental reading. That you'll want to study.

And then we can think of what I like to do at the table and what kinds of games I like. There's many things I like to do, but let's look at one of the chief ones for a bit. One of my favorite systems is the Fate Core and one of the core mechanics (ohohoho) is the invoking and compelling of aspects. Now aspects are double-edged swords that define a character or a situation in some respect. They are freeform and created during play. There is no list in the book of aspects you pick. You make these and they are written however you want so long as you make sure it defines a part of your character is a double-edged sword.

Because of this, this means that calling upon the aspects in play is necessarily an argument. If you are playing as someone who is a former assassin with a reputation, you could argue that you should be able to use that influence to make your attempt to convince someone through fear easier. And that is decided between you and your gm talking this through. If the motion is passed, you get your invoke and pay the fate token. If not, then you move along. Compels work in a similar fashion, wherein the gm or even sometimes the player will present a case based on the situation at hand and the aspects in question. Discussion will be had. Arguments will be made. And while the player does have the overall right to veto a compel, the idea is that you are supposed to be willing to take these at times if a strong case is made and you think it'd result in something interesting.

And I love this. It's one of the things I do like about messier rules. I like that based off jank wording you can argue about a thing and decide on the spot if you are allowed to do this stupid thing. And you can come at these things from a variety of stances. You can cite texts! You can cite general philosophies and vibes! It is argument! Based off study! Even the rules light narrative first systems permit this sort of thing to a degree and they always offer you rules and history to study, learn and argue over in between games. And that I think is what I truly love most about TTRPGs and why I chose to play them in addition to freeform textbased roleplay.

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princeofgod-2021 · 9 months

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LIGHT OF LIFE 385

John 1:4

UNDERSTANDING PROPHETIC MANDATES 19: WHAT’S PROPHECY? 3

Amo 3:7 CERTAINLY, THE ALMIGHTY LORD DOESN'T DO ANYTHING UNLESS HE FIRST REVEALS HIS SECRET TO HIS SERVANTS THE PROPHETS. GW

Last session, we started to look at a scripture and pick useful points. Let’s go on, shall we?

Rev 19:10 At this I fell facedown at the angel’s feet to worship him, but he stopped me and said, “Don’t do this! For I am only a fellow servant with you and one of YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS WHO CLING TO WHAT JESUS TESTIFIES. Worship God. THE TESTIMONY OF JESUS IS THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY.” TPT

We’ve read that PROPHECY is born of the SPIRIT, and as such, should be honoured like God Himself, right?

Now, we must perceive that the Word is the TESTIMONY of Jesus, and so, Jesus is the [only] one to be READ and honoured for all revelations.

That was the emphasis in those verses, Okay?

Mat 17:3-4 Then MOSES and ELIJAH also appeared before them, TALKING WITH HIM. So Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. IF YOU WANT, I WILL MAKE THREE SHELTERS – ONE FOR YOU, ONE FOR MOSES, AND ONE FOR ELIJAH.” NET

It is too obvious that humans are commonly easily mesmerized by Supernatural sightings, and then, they have the strong tendency of worshiping the “Messenger”.

You’d be surprised that, after “warning” from the Angel to John, he (John) was going to it again.

He attempted it twice, right in heaven, where [the only] God dwelt, and was not even “far” away.

Rev 22:8-9 My name is John, and I am the one who heard and saw these things. Then AFTER I HAD HEARD AND SEEN ALL THIS, I KNELT DOWN AND BEGAN TO WORSHIP AT THE FEET OF THE ANGEL WHO HAD SHOWN IT TO ME. But the angel said, DON'T DO THAT! I AM A SERVANT, JUST LIKE YOU. I AM THE SAME AS A FOLLOWER OR A PROPHET OR ANYONE ELSE who obeys what is written in this book. GOD IS THE ONE YOU SHOULD WORSHIP. CEV

It is easy to see that satan knows this weakness in Humans, and that’s how he will eventually gain extensive global control over people’s minds at the end of Times.

Rev 13:11,13,14 Then I saw another beast, which came up out of the earth. It had two horns like a lamb's horns, and it spoke like a dragon…THIS SECOND BEAST PERFORMED GREAT MIRACLES; IT MADE FIRE COME DOWN OUT OF HEAVEN TO EARTH IN THE SIGHT OF EVERYONE. AND IT DECEIVED ALL THE PEOPLE LIVING ON EARTH BY MEANS OF THE MIRACLES which it was allowed to perform in the presence of the first beast. The beast told them to build an image in honor of the beast that had been wounded by the sword and yet lived. GNB

Beloved, if you want to effectively manage Prophetic Mandates sent to you and keep them steadily coming, you must always perceive and receive it, in connection to it’s Originator: JESUS.

Like the reference with Prophet Samuel that we shared last lesson(I Sam 16:4), men have the tendency of worshiping the Prophet but forgetting, or even discarding the Prophecy.

Quite sad!

Joh 7:19 Moses gave you the law, right? But you don't obey that law. If you do, THEN WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?" ERV

Imagine that! Moses’ Law and Commandment hinge on the declaration of the coming Messiah.

Deu 18:15 Jehovah your GOD WILL RAISE UP TO YOU A PROPHET FROM THE MIDST OF YOU, of your brothers, One like me. TO HIM YOU SHALL LISTEN, MKJV

They wanted to Kill the one who sent the Prophecy and whom the Prophecy was all about.

Joh 5:37-39 And THE FATHER WHO SENT ME HAS TESTIFIED CONCERNING ME. You have never heard His voice nor seen His form. NOR DO YOU HAVE HIS WORD LIVING IN YOU, because you do not trust the One He sent. YOU SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES BECAUSE YOU SUPPOSE THAT IN THEM YOU HAVE ETERNAL LIFE. IT IS THESE THAT TESTIFY ABOUT ME. TLV

Jesus is the embodiment of all Scripture and Prophecy, yet they would kill Him but “preserve” Moses Law.

You’d think that they thought highly of the LAW, but no!

It’s MOSES they worship.

Heb 3:2-3 He was faithful to God, who chose him to do this work, just as Moses was faithful in his work in God's house. A MAN WHO BUILDS A HOUSE RECEIVES MORE HONOR THAN THE HOUSE ITSELF. IN THE SAME WAY JESUS IS WORTHY OF MUCH GREATER HONOR THAN MOSES. GNB

My beloved Family and friends, Jesus is the CONSTRUCT, DEVELOPER and PRESENTER of every Word of Prophecy; He is PROPHECY HIMSELF.

The moment you “expunge” Jesus from the Word, it loses relevant and potency.

You will only run with the LETTER and not the SPIRIT.

Isa 29:10 FOR THE LORD HAS SENT ON YOU A SPIRIT OF DEEP SLEEP; AND BY HIM YOUR EYES, THE PROPHETS, ARE SHUT, and your heads, the seers, are covered. BBE

God will cover up the people and Prophet who have disconnected His Son from the Prophecy.

I pray for you: you will only have to stand before Jesus to receive your Mandate, IN JESUS NAME.

Join us on Monday, for more of this insightful and enlightening Sub-Subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Friday, July 28, 2023

08055125517; 08023904307

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tetsuro-wulf · 1 year

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The Wulf's Eye: RP Journal #111 | Disappearances & Dumbass Fathers

Writing before I curl up with Li for the night, supposed I'd get my thoughts out instead of letting it sit jumbled in my head.

At this point, I'm quite thankful decorating headquarters, moving, and so forth is done with. The place.. I'm proud of. And we had quite a busy turnout at Bounty Call's first opening since we fully furnished the place. I'm sure they'll all get used to the layout in no time. I wonder if anyone will take advantage of the open dojo and onsen..

Though, as before, once one operation is complete, another arises.. let alone the issue with Ishgard. But this operation in particular is a Vault operation. Disappearences, starting with Kugane. We had been called to an investigation of a suspected yokai behind the sudden disappearances of three individuals, though upon our investigation.. things didn't add up. We met up with an individual named Toki, who explained the disappearances of this people that she seemed to personally know, offering us details surrounding the suspected yokai-affairs. I paired with Aioux and Kayah to question the neighbors of the victims, surely they must've noticed something, right?

But when we got there, well, Aioux was dealing with the old hags of mean girls giggling and shooing him away while mentioning some.. Thavnairian Perfurmes. Which, ends up being a damn clue later. But Kayah and I noticed an old man. We asked him a few questions, but the only thing he could bring up would be hearing footsteps at night. One set of footsteps. Yet, when the rest of the Vault joined us, things did not.. add up. We learned these disappearances weren't just Kugane. Something similar happened in Ul'dah. And while it'd be fun to name a yokai responsible, literally any and every yokai are more than capable of spiriting away mortals. Spiriting away.. I'll have to keep that in mind.

But some connections led us to questioning other regions, as that has become our next step. Things continued to not add up though, which is off.. my biggest concern is the fact that it has started to amount to cities and small towns and villages outside of the main citystates. We're going to be covering.. a lot. It seems.

Betobetobetobeto..

--------------

I should get into the fact that Li has been on edge lately for one reason; his father has made an appearance. The man that reminds me of my own father, based on what Li and Nishikar have told me. Which gives me reason to be on my guard. Scilla felt him at the markets near our home.. and Skadi told me he was around, perhaps 'attempting' to make amends or something. So I've been offering to go out to the markets for him lately.

Though, this led to our FATEFUL encounter. The man, who I quite clearly felt to be a Nobuyuki, lurked right in my vicinity while I was buying some leaves for my kiseru. He seemed to walk in a way where he expected me to follow, and follow I did. All the way to the shores of Shirogane. I questioned him proper, and he revealed an attempt to 'understand why his sons came to live in this world' supposedly. By.. lurking. He lacks tact. I mean, the guy stared at me for a while as I made my purchase. As expected, though. I wanted to feel him out. Know his intenstions. Seems he wanted to moreso leave it in his kids' hands to decide if they want to rebuild bridges. I gave him my thoughts.. I barely held back. But.. I know I can't just keep comparing him to my father. Perhaps he can stray away from that path. I mean, he already is by making an effort. My father wouldn't have given a fuck. He tried to kill my people. But.. Inigo offered to spar. He said it was better we learned more about one another through the sword. And of course, I agreed. But not this same night. That in itself, had to be seperated from the words we exchanged that evening.

--------------

To end on a lighter note, I've begun my next element. Born of fire, cursed by levin, and now.. Earth. Earth was always a connection that felt.. present within me. Not that I could wield it, but I've always felt the existence of Qi within the land itself. And by how Li was describing it, it connected with the Book of Earth, one of the Five Rings I connect to the most. The Book of Earth mentioned disciplining the mind to see all in one. 'From one thing, know ten thousand things. When you attain the Way of strategy there will not be one thing you cannot see.' And Li stated to truly wield the land, you must open your mind to what the land has to offer. Not just rock itself. But minerals, flowers, soil, grass.. everything. I feel.. mastering Earth is the most destined amongst all other elements, spare for fire. Connecting to the Earth through meditative means was natural.

Thus, I look forward to our next session..

02.05.2023 - 02.07.2022

#wulf journal #wulf journals

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love-archon · 3 years

Text

Shoulder Angel

Summary: Genshin boys as your guardian angel and demon ^^

Zhongli and Childe

• Morax is literally the name of a demon.

• He appears before you on the eve of your contract, sharply dressed in elegant (and form-fitting) clothes, and calmly states his name and titles: a president of hell, overseer of thirty demonic legions, and provider of knowledge of astrology and stone.

• There's a long silence after he's done, as though he's waiting for something... or someone. Then Morax awkwardly clears his throat, and that's when the angel comes crashing in.

• "Be not afraid!" he announces, picking himself up from the floor. You aren't yet sure why you should be afraid of a skinny white boy with orange hair, but you suppose it's just something all angels say.

• You didn't get the angel's name, but when your friends come over and see the two very attractive men in your house that previously weren't there before, he's quick to spin a lie about him being a family friend of yours, Ajax, who's staying with you for an indefinite amount of time.

• Morax is less accustomed to lying on the spot, latching onto Ajax's story and introducing himself as Zhongli... another family friend. Who also coincidentally happens to be staying with you, yes.

• To be honest, Zhongli is nicer to hang out with than Ajax. He is knowledgeable about many things, and recounts grand historical events as though they happened yesterday. His deep, velvety-smooth voice has you unconsciously hanging on to his every word.

• But no matter how civil and friendly he is, take care not to forget what he's really here for. Morax takes contracts seriously, and although he refuses to outright lie, he still wants you to sign the second contract- one that gives him the legal right to claim your soul when you die.

• (Your saving grace is that even though he's not willing to play dirty, the angel certainly is).

• Meanwhile, you're pretty sure that if you make one wrong step when you're out with Ajax, he'll be fired for not protecting you properly. He's always itching for a fight or chasing the thrilling high that comes with danger some other way. But if anyone dares threaten you, he’s immediately at your side, ready to defend you if they come any closer.

• Sometimes, when his focus slips, you see his true form underneath the human glamor- hulking, plated with armor, and a pearlescent wheel for an eye- and suddenly his "be not afraid" line makes much more sense, and terrifyingly so.

• It's never visible for more than a second before Ajax is back, with his lean build and countable freckles and two eyes as blue as the deepest sea, smiling at you reassuringly and pretending nothing happened.

• He trusts you enough to not intervene when you're around Zhongli, because as far as he's concerned, your soul might as well be in Ajax’s palm. But he still delights in tormenting the lesser demons that appear near you, drawn by Morax's power- summoning blades of holy water to easily tear them to shreds.

• What? Just because he's a guardian angel doesn't mean he has to be nice.

Scaramouche and Kazuha

• In the window of time when summer turns to fall, and maple leaves change from green to shades of red, Kazuha comes to you.

• Kazuha is the perfect angel.

• He knows the hidden language of nature, guiding you away from treacherous storms and lightning strikes. Traveling with him means you can sleep safely under the stars without a care, and he's always there with a wise saying or elegant poem that reminds you to do the right thing.

• Although he sounds a little old-fashioned when he speaks, his soft voice and gentle, kind eyes persuade you to listen anyway.

• He's sweet and calm, but always ready to faithfully defend you from evil with his heavenly sword.

• Which is why it vexes him when there's one ancient evil, reeking of ozone, that he just can't seem to exorcise.

• You can't get a real name out of him- he's too spiteful and cunning to ever reveal it to you. It's either Balladeer, or Skirmisher, 散兵, or Scaramouche, which sounds the most like a name instead of a title. So Scaramouche is what you call him... for now.

• He doesn't bother trying to tempt you into anything, and seems determined to hang around you only to be a nuisance. It deeply irritates Kazuha, which only encourages Scaramouche more.

• Then one day he realizes that making you flustered isn't just fun, but also drives the angel up the walls.

• Like a new favorite toy, he quickly figures out what gets the best reactions out of you, but is smart enough to know when to stop before he goes too far. He always does it when Kazuha does something particularly cute or nice to you, dragging your attention away from him.

• Even so, your guardian angel has faith that in the end, you'll do the right thing.

• "I know you'll make the correct choice," Kazuha says to you, smiling gently. The fading light of the sun softens his features even more, making them shine like gold.

• "I know you'll make the correct choice," Scaramouche mockingly drawls, and the air suddenly grows chilly and hums with static. His icy finger draws a line down your arm, making you flinch from the cold. "After all, I'm much better than that angel, right?"

Venti and Xiao

• You're thrown off at first by the angelic wings and snarling mask, respectively. But make no mistake-

• No matter how cute he may be, Barbatos is a duke of hell, who delights in speaking in riddles and encourages you to laze around and procrastinate when you really shouldn't. He jokingly invites you to share a drink with him, and is only stopped by a firm "no" or Xiao appearing behind him with glowing green eyes and a warning growl.

• And despite Xiao sighing in exasperation whenever he has to get you out of trouble, he always appears by your side to defend you wherever you're in danger- you only need speak his name.

• It’s no secret that beneath his distant exterior, Xiao has a soft spot for you, and cares for your wellbeing even if the things humans do mystify him at times.

• Surprisingly, the two of them get along with each other, when Barbatos isn't trying to pull you into one of his schemes ("Barbatos sounds so mean," he whined once, after being scolded by the both of you. "You should call me Venti instead!")

• Xiao had a different name, once, when he was forced to serve a false and evil god. He refuses to speak of it with you, so don't try, but sometimes, late at night, the illusions over his skin come undone, and you’re sad to see just how much damage has been done in his years of servitude.

• You only know that one day, someone came along and freed him, giving him his new name. He refuses to talk about that person either, although it sounds like they're not with him anymore.

• But being granted freedom didn’t remove the agony inflicted on him, and it was Venti’s song that saved him from being consumed by pain. He secretly dreams of being able to dance to that music again, unburdened by his debts. And although he may never admit it, being with you gives him the same lightness in his heart.

• Venti doesn't care about trying to get the upper hand on Xiao or anything. He believes that humans should always have the freedom to choose without outside influence, anyway.

• But sometimes, just to mess with him, he transforms into what must be his real form: a tiny, fairy-like creature dressed in white. He floats around you like a ball of dandelion fluff in a spring breeze, and cutely nuzzles your cheek to make you laugh.

• Then he throws Xiao a smug look when you're not looking, and the guardian's shaky grip on his polearm nearly makes it crack.

#genshin imagines #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #genshin scenarios #my writing

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