#Is this precious child seriously in the dark forest now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wisteriashouse · 3 years

Text

stranded.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1960

The mission was a success.

Although it is more common for Pillars to work alone to make full use of their manpower, Oyakata-sama had assigned you and Kyoujurou on a joint mission. There was a disturbance in a remote village in the far west, rumored to one of the Twelve Moons devouring people. Luckily, the two of you had managed to subdue and slay it before it could kill and feast on even more victims before proceeding to clear the surrounding forests of any more demons.

However, the both of you had gotten snowed in due to an avalanche blocking off the mountain pass, and hence are to be stranded there for the next three days.

The second you wave off the last villager come to thank you for saving her child, you promptly make your way into your room, slide the door shut and proceed to collapse onto the tatami on the spot. Every bone in your body is aching as if you’ve been run over by a train and all its carriages; you have no idea how Kyoujurou still has the energy to help the villagers bury the rest of the bodies. You had tried to insist on helping as well, but your fellow Pillar had cheerily shooed you off to rest, reassuring you that’d they’d be done in no time.

Rolling over into a more comfortable position, you wince when fresh pain blooms across your shoulder blade and immediately scramble to your knees to take stock of your injury. The adrenaline from the battle earlier must be wearing off, because the moment you try to look over your own shoulder, about ten different muscles howl at you in protest. You groan.

“That’s just wonderful.”

Shrugging the haori off your shoulders, you study the dark red stain on the fabric contemplatively and consider if this is an injury you can simply shrug off. Common sense and your desire to actually live beyond thirty tells you no, so you sigh and drag yourself to your feet.

You could do with another pair of eyes.

Stepping out barefoot onto the engawa, you tip toe your way to the room next to yours. The candles aren’t lit, and you briefly wonder if Kyoujurou is still not back or if he’s already retired for the night. While you’re pondering this outside, the door slides open all of a sudden, startling you.

“Kyoujurou! You scared me!” You tell him, one hand over your chest. Your friend smiles at you brightly from the doorway.

“My apologies! I was wondering why you were dawdling about outside instead of entering!” He’s in a slight state of undress, his Flame Pillar haori absent and two buttons on his uniform undone. He must have been in the middle of changing out of his clothes and getting ready for bed. “Do you need something from me?”

“Sorry for disturbing you, I just wanted to know if you made it back safely.” You shake your head, intent on just checking out your injury tomorrow. It’s not like you’ll die overnight, will you? “I’ll leave you to your rest now.”

With a wave you turn to leave, but before you can, Kyoujurou’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“I wish that you would be more forward with me!” Kyoujurou declarers loudly out of the blue, and you whirl around to look at him with wide eyes. He’s smiling at you, hopeful and genuine. “As fellow Pillars, we should help and rely on each other! Furthermore, you’re a precious friend of mine. I’d love to help you out, if you need me!”

Red colors your cheeks, and you glance to the side, embarrassed. “Of course. My apologies.” You mumble, “It’s just been so long that we’ve met that it feels a little awkward. You’re a precious friend to me too, Kyo.”

At your words, Kyoujurou practically radiates happiness in the dim hallway. “That makes me happy to hear! Come on in!” He ushers you inside quickly, sliding the door shut behind you. You take a seat on the floor and make yourself comfortable, watching him move around the room to light the lamps. Soft candlelight springs to life, bathing the room in a dim orange glow, and he turns back to you once he’s done. “What is it that you need?”

“Well, I might have gotten an injury on my back, but I can’t see how severe it is. I need you to help me take a look.” You explain, and his eyes narrow in concern. In a few quick steps he’s by your side, kneeling behind you to examine your injury.

“Your uniform appears to have been slashed, but I am unable to take a closer look as your clothes are in the way.” Kyoujurou says, and you frown. This is going to be a pain... “Perhaps you should...” His words trail off, suddenly hesitant, and you laugh quietly under your breath. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him being flustered. “I can call one of the women from the village to help you instead-”

“No need to, it’s late and they’ve had a long night. Besides, I trust you.” You say, a little amused as you reach up to undo the buttons of your top. “Turn away for a bit.”

“Of course!” His voice quavers just so slightly, and you can’t help the soft laughter that escapes you. Rengoku Kyoujurou, Flame Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps, is endearing cute in your eyes, you think. Pulling off your top and wincing when the dried blood tugs at your injury, you use it to cover your front before calling to him.

“You can look now.”

You hear him shift to face you, and then there’s a little intake of breath as he sees your back. “There’s a cut on your left shoulder blade, about the length of my palm.” He explains seriously as he checks over your injury. “It doesn’t appear to be bleeding very much, but you should get it treated as soon as possible before infection sets in.”

“Ahh, got it. I’ll go to the village tomorrow morning and ask for some medicine.” You turn around to smile at him. “Thanks for your help, Kyoujurou.”

“I have medicine!” Kyoujurou announces enthusiastically before you can so much as think about leaving. “I visited Kochou’s estate before this mission, so I happen to have some ointment from her. I’m sure it’ll make you feel better! Give me a moment.” He rummages through his belongings and pulls out a distinctively lacquered container proudly. “Here it is!”

“Shouldn’t you keep that for something more important, Kyoujurou?” You ask him, worried. He’s headed out for another mission right after this one, after all. “I could always just get patched up at the village tomorrow. It doesn’t hurt much.”

“Nonsense!” Kyoujurou insists. “You are a precious friend, it would not be wasted on you.” When he sees your hesitance, his voice softens slightly. “Please, let me take care of you.”

Cheeks heating up slightly, you nod and turn around to hide your face from his gaze. “If you want to, then go ahead.” You say softly under your breath, and you can feel Kyoujurou’s smile behind you.

Demon Slayers are no stranger to injuries, and Kyoujurou has certainly faced his fair share of them before. He prepares the gauze and disinfectant liquid with practiced movements, raising them to your back with cautious hands. He’s clearly mindful of your injury.

“This might hurt a little,” he warns you, and you hum in acknowledgement.

“I trust you.” The words leave you easily. Kyoujurou’s fingers are warm against your skin.

When the disinfectant touches your gash, you bite back your wince at the sting, but of course Kyoujurou hears it. “Does it hurt?” He asks, clearly upset at the thought of causing you any pain, but you shake your head.

“No, I’m fine. I honestly didn’t think I was going to get injured, but today’s demon was really quite interesting.” You think aloud as Kyoujurou wipes down the area around your wound carefully. “I can’t believe I let myself get hurt by a Lower Moon. Embarrassing, don’t you think?”

“You’re not weak at all!” Kyoujurou pauses in treating your wound to scold you, and you turn around to see him smiling encouragingly at you. “You sustained it saving a little boy, did you not? It is not something to be embarrassed of!”

You laugh, turning back so that he can tend to your injury. “Thanks, Kyoujurou.”

“It’s not a problem! I simply spoke the truth.” He tells you as his fingers resume work once more, dabbing ointment on your wound. The faint smell of antiseptic tickles your nose. “It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you.” Kyoujurou’s voice is a hint softer than usual. “You’re just as selfless as I remember.”

His words make you smile, a light fluttering in your chest. “I’m glad I got to come on this mission with you too, Kyo. Since you became a Pillar, I rarely get to see you aside from Hashira meetings. Maybe getting snowed in was a blessing in disguise for me.” You laugh a little at your own words.

“I feel the same.” Kyoujurou’s breath dances across the back of your neck as he leans over to reach some of the smaller cuts on your shoulder. Content and safe with him, the exhaustion from today starts to catch up with you and you feel your eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes.

“I’m done.” Kyoujurou announces after a few minutes as he secures the knot on your dressing. “Although the wound is not severe, but it’d be good for you to get it changed daily to prevent infection. You should head back to your room now and rest properly-” Your head tilts forward and Kyoujurou pauses mid-sentence to realise you’ve already fallen asleep.

He briefly wonders if he should wake you, but his hand hovers over your shoulder when he catches sight of your sleeping face. Letting out a soft sigh, he murmurs to himself. “Falling asleep in a man’s room like this, you’re truly are cruel for making me suffer in this way.”

Instead, he averts his gaze and slips his arms beneath your knees and back, careful to avoid your injury, and carries you to the bedding he’d set out earlier for himself. Gently laying you out on it, he makes sure to cover you with the thick blanket so that you don’t catch a cold, and then brushes the hair out of your eyes with a tender hand as he looks down at you with a pained smile.

“You’re so defenseless around me.” He says softly into the quiet of the room, silent except for the sound of the winter wind outside. “I wonder if it’s because you trust me, or because you don’t see me that way at all...”

With a slightly self deprecating sigh, he makes to get up, intent on heading over to your room to sleep instead. Before he can leave, however, a smaller hand wraps around his wrist, holding him in place.

“Kyo...” Kyoujurou looks down to see you pressing his hand to your cheek, a content smile on your face as you sleep. “Warm...”

His heart stumbles in his chest. Despite the winter chill in the air, Kyoujurou feels unbearably warm.

He settles back onto the ground, back against the wall as he looks at you with a resigned smile. “What am I to do with you, really...” His own eyes slide shut, but his hand remains tightly held in yours throughout the entire night.

The two of you fall asleep together, each dreaming of the other even as the sun begins to rise over the mountaintops.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic

218 notes · View notes

capituloperdido1 · 3 years

Text

ACOSAS

Hello everyone! As always please let me know if you have any feedback or want to be added to the taglist.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Mention of SA and anxiety.

Chapter 2

The day had arrived.

She was leaving to the day court today, she was finally leaving the safety of the library.

Gwyn had begun to prepare as soon as dinner had been over, she had talked to Clotho and Merril; the latter had reluctantly accepted and had sent her with even more research prompts to look over during her stay in the Day Court. Cassian had given her a full month schedule of training, and had ensured that she packed the Valkyrae uniform as well as her favorite dagger. Nesta and Emerie had given her a list of souvenirs to bring back; which included an autographed book of one her their favorite smut writer, who happened to be a member of the Day Court.

Everyone seemed ready for her to leave.

Everyone but her.

As much as it excited her, the terror in her bones had not let her enjoy the idea of the outside world.

As she took the last of her bags up to the house, she began to lose herself into her thoughts; who really ensured her that everything would be okay?

Last time she had been in the outside world she had been kidnapped and forced to a crazy Illyrian trial.

The time before that, well... it was better not to remember.

She was not ready to see other people, specially not men.

She looked up and notice that she was in the middle of the stairs leading to the house, with her hand in her chest and bag thrown in the floor.

Was she ready?

She wanted to be.

What was that she had promised her sisters?

Never again.

Never Again.

It was time to see the world.

-.-.-.-.-.

Azriel had been looking at Nesta for an hour, his sister in law had been going on the different things he needed to remember in order to keep Gwyn safe.

-And remember, she told me she was allergic to some types of flowers; and since i don't remember which ones they are it is just better if you just don't let her near flowers- Nesta said.

-Flowers... Nesta what are you saying?- Cassian said, -Gwyn is not a child you are leaving for Azriel to babysit, she is your friend-

He smiled, he knew Nesta a was protective over Gwyn; he understood it himself, even if he never showed it. He also understood the courage and bravery from the priestess to leave the library. He would ensure that nothing would happen to her, he would protect her and help her; even if that meant she could not see any flowers.

His shadows had been singing with excitement since Gwyn had accepted the offer, he had to admit he was excited as well. It was the first mission he had ever done that did not require murder at the end of it, he was protecting someone precious to the court, his family and even if he would not admit it, himself.

This would also be a time for him to think over his actions of the past few months, being away from the one Archeron sister he had tried to avoid.

He had been selfish, he knew that.

Before he could think more about the subject, the light voice of the priestess interrupted his thoughts -Nesta, i am not allergic to flowers- she said.

Azriel smiled instantly, she really knew how to make everyone feel better just by talking.

-I'm ready- she said approaching him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Rhys had arranged to winnow them to the border of the Night Court and the Day Court, where Helion would be expecting them to take them to his palace. According to Rhys, it had been Helion's idea to show Gwyn the beauty of the day court. Rhys had warned the priestess to be careful of the weather; the day court had the hardest summers, second only to the summer court. But according to Rhys, the cold of the Autumn arrived faster and stronger than in other courts.

Rhysand was right.

The border of the night court and the day court was cold in that afternoon, made even colder because of their surroundings. The forest that separated both courts was now attacked by heavy rushes of wind. It made Gwyn overwhelmed, as if the mother had chosen the coldest weather to make her body colder than it already was. She felt chills running through her body at the sight of the trees; it reminded her of the Blood Rite.

Vile had risen to her throat.

She was trying so hard to control it, her nerves and her thoughts. But taking this step had been harder than she would admit, specially because being surrounded by trees did not allow her to see the sun; it also did not seem to have an exit.

The sound galloping coming near them startled her, and the sight of 3 gold carriages with the most majestic white stallions waited came into view. Stopping barely feet away from them, the carriage doors opened; out of them stepped a beautiful man wearing a gold crown on top of his long black hair. His white robe showed off the beauty of his brown skin, and his smile made his face even more beautiful.

-Gwyn, this is Helion, High Lord of the Day Court- Rhysand mentioned.

Instantly, Gwyn bowed in front of the man; nervousness and fear creeping upon her.

-It is a pleasure to meet you Valkyrae, we have heard wonders about you- Helion said, his voice smooth and soft. -Thank you for coming to my court, i am hoping your stay will be enjoyable and you'll get to see real beauty; the night court has nothing on us-.

She smiled shyly, unsure of sharing her voice with the male.

A tingly feeling on her hand distracted her, she looked over her hand to find a shadow circling her hand as if trying to calming her. She breathed, the shadow giving her a sense of security.

Thank you Azriel.

-Thank you for having me, my lord-she said

Helion smiled broadly, -you heard that Rhys? She is respectful, unlike you and your friends -.

The two lords embraced each other and continued talking.

Gwyn did not listen.

She looked over to the shadowsinger, who seemed oblivious of the shadow on her hand. Maybe it had escaped from his side; maybe he had not sent it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Helion had given her and Azriel their own carriage, he had made it a point to give her as much space as possible. She was deeply grateful for that.

He had explained that his palace was upon a mountain, surrounded by the main city; he had called it Lux, the city of light.

-Have you even been in the Day Court?- she asked Azriel.

-Yes, but it has been a while- he answered.

The sight of the end of the forest welcomed her, and as Gwyn peered out the carriage window she was graced with the most beautiful green fields. Grass and flowers of every color decorated the mountains, the smell of clear air filled her nose; the day court was beautiful.

The small village homes with farm animals became more frequent as they travel up the mountains, and as the city became clear, she found that the houses of the city circled the palace sitting at the top of the mountain.

The palace was clear, shining and reflecting the last of the sunshine; it was decorated with gold and silver, sculptures of every mythical animal at the top of every tower.

Beyond the palace, the sea was the perfect companion of the city; the sun reflected in the water transforming the transparent liquid into golden waters.

-I... this is beautiful- she said, tears threatening to come.

-it really is- Azriel responded.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The initial annoyance of having to spend time with Helion was erased at the sight of Gwyn enjoying the view of the Day Court, it was worth it, if it made her smile as she did right now.

He had to admit, the sight was beautiful. The landscape of the Day Court was always one of his favorites. Even if the palace was rather flashy and not very secure.

-We should take a walk on the beach one day- he said to her.

She smiled even brighter -that sounds like a plan shadowsinger-.

Once they arrived, Helion organized a staff of females to guide Gwyn into the palace. Hesitant to leave Gwyn by herself, he sent a shadow to follow her. His shadows obey his every command, even the unconscious ones; he had felt Gwyn's distress when they winnowed into the Night Courts Border, and his mind had told him to do anything to calm her down. It wasn't until he felt her staring at him that he noticed how a shadow circled her hand in comfort.

It surprised him, again.

But he was glad that the dark power he possessed could be used for something good at last.

Helion approached him smiling, -I hope your stay will be enjoyable, i have accommodated your old room. I hope you don't mind-. Azriel felt heat rising to his cheeks, Helion knew how to make things awkward.

-Thank you, my lord- he responded.

He laughed, grabbing his shoulders -let's go, i'll invite you to a drink-.

The palace had not changed much since Azriel had been there, the same extravagant gold decorations shined in every corner of the building. Helion had changed the colors of the furniture into creams and whites, accentuating the light and life that the glass windows provided.

-I was surprised when Rhysand told me it was you who was coming, i thought he would sent Cassian- Helion started, -it seems as if your high lord was adamant to keep you away from Velaris, i wonder why that is-.

Azriel followed the male into the only room that had stone walls. Helion's study had dark wooden shelves in the left side of the room, with a golden map of Prythian as the center table and wooden chairs surrounding it. This was the only place of the castle the high lord never changed, the place where only his trusted people entered.

-I am sure he had his reasons- Azriel responded.

-Rhysand is worried about you- Helion started

Right to business then.

-I am unsure of what you mean- Azriel responded.

Helion scuffed, -Azriel, drop the formalities. It is me who you are talking to. I have known you for longer than most of your friends, i know you - Grabbing a set of cups, the high lord served him what smelled like whiskey.

They sat across each other, the high lord had taken his crown off and was looking at him with deep seriousness. -Rhysand has commented about your fixation with a certain female of his court, someone who according to him you can't love-.

Well then, why was Rhysand sharing that with Helion?

He was going to kill his High Lord.

-How does this involve you?- Azriel said, adding bite into his tone.

-Because i have been in your shoes, shadowsinger- the male said. -I have had many partners in my life, but no one will fill my heart as she did-.

He knew who Helion was talking about.

-But you don't see her in my arms, do you?- Helion continued, -That is because she made a choice, one that i was not okay with; but she choose him over seeing us both being killed-

A silent moment passed, Azriel daring to look at the powerful man in front of him.

-Beron is not her mate, i am. And there is a reason why i am not besides her, even though we have loved each other for centuries- Helion explained - He became obsessed with the idea of owning her, and was blinded by how much he thought he deserved her. She chose to reject our mating bond, and to stay by his side forever.-

-I do not resent her, rather i love her even more for her bravery. I have spent every living moment praying the mother to give me her courage, courage to challenge Beron and save her. But i am unable to- dropping his head, Helion's voice dropped as he talked -Azriel, i am not here to tell you who to love; i am here to tell you that the choice is not yours, or the fox boys. The choice is Elain's-.

Azriel knew that, he knew Elain was not a price to be fought over.

-I am also here to tell you that this trip is not only to find the fourth trove, but also to find yourself- Helion continued, -You will not do any spy work, no torture or military work. You will simply assist and protect the priestess warrior as much as she needs you. Take this as a chance to think about the decisions you have made over the last centuries, it will be the first time you're away from your family for so long. -

-Did Rhysand say that?- he responded.

-No. This is me talking as a friend - Helion answered, -If you find that at the end of this you actually love her, then go for it. But if you find that there might be another reason over your fixation of her, maybe it is time to let your idea of love go. Maybe it is time to relearn what you think being with someone is-.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Gwyn loved her room, the white furniture and rose gold accentuation made her feel peaceful and happy. A canopy bed at the end of the room with curtains of flowers seemed like the most comfortable and cozy thing she seen. There was a small study and pair of shelves on one side; the changing room and bathroom connected with one another, forming practically a hallway on the side of the room.

This was the fanciest thing she ever experienced.

Dropping the last of her bags Gwyn decided to take a bath before going to bed, the females who had helped her get in her room had told her that supper would be in the individual rooms for today; giving them time to rest to begin working tomorrow.

Once she had bathed, changed and ate; she sat on the fancy bed, immediately feeling the softness of the mattress. Laying down, Gwyn prayed that the bed would allow her to have better dreams; maybe she would finally be able to sleep without being awaken by nightmares, maybe all she needed was a comfortable mattress.

Screams of children sounded loud in her ears, Gwyn awoke in the hard bed from the temple of Sangravah.

Where was her sister?

She stood, looking for her sibling as her ears adjusted to the sounds of screams. Someone was here, someone was hurting the girls at the temple.

-Gwyn- Catrin said, -we need to keep them safe-.

Her sister came towards her with almost a dozen children trailing behind her. -What is happening?- Gwyn muttered

-They are here, Hybern is here. You need to get out of here, take the kids to the lake exit. I will stall them- Her sister gave her a small hand to hold on to. Unable to say anything Gwyn saw her sister go into the source of the screams.

Don't go, she wanted to say, you'll die.

Let me go, you deserve to be alive. Not me.

The high pitch of her sister's scream ringed in her ears, Gwyn could do nothing as she heard her sisters voice begging for the males not to touch her. She heard the laughter of the men as they took turns on her, she felt the cries of other priestesses as they all suffered the same fate.

And Gwyn did nothing,

Gwyn stood in place, paralyzed by fear.

Letting everyone around her die, at the hands of Hybern.

Startled, sweaty and with tears filling her eyes, Gwyn awoke from her nightmare.

She did not know where she was.

Panicking, she ran outside of the door. She needed to escape, needed to get back to the library; she was not in Velaris.

As she opened the door frantically, the door in front of her was opened with a thud.

She stood still, shaking and unable to say anything.

A male figure came out of the door rushing towards her; she flinched.

-Gwyn... Gwyn it's me- the male voice said.

She knew the voice, she knew the male talking to her.

Her vision became clearer, as she took a pair of honey eyes looking worried at her. She took in the golden brown skin, the short trimmed hair. She scented night-chilled mist and cedar.

Recognizing the male, she let her vulnerability show.

Gwyn dropped to her knees, letting the weight of the dream settle upon her.

She was safe, she was in the day court.

She was not alone.

She was with Azriel.

TAGLIST:

@imsointobooks , @gwynkyrie

#gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar #post acosf #nesta archeron #nesta and gwyn #acotar fanfiction

47 notes · View notes

animezing-fandoms · 3 years

Text

Willow

Masterlist

Relationships: Nalu

Warnings: Blood, injury, stabbing (basically there’s a fight and injuries are sustained but it’s not graphic detail) Implied/referenced lemon. Abusive parents (Jude’s a real bad parent in this AU)

Summary: During a job with team Natsu, Lucy gets hit in the head and wakes up in a dream where she's a princess who runs away from home to be with her lover, the half-dragon half-human Count Natsu Dragneel.

A/N: So I had this wild dream one night about nalu and decided to write it as a fic. I hope it isn’t too crazy! And yes I also incorporated some lyrics from Taylor Swift’s Willow. Enjoy!

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

“I am seriously starting to regret taking this job with you guys!” Lucy wails.

She was currently on a job with Team Natsu. The job seemed simple enough on paper. They just needed to find a rare crystal in a forest. Sounds easy right? Well, the client forgot to mention that this forest has weird clearings that need to be crossed in order to get to the crystal, and giant killer eagles that attack you when you’re in the clearings!

That’s why Lucy was currently running for her life, heading for the tree-line. She dares to look over her shoulder and instantly regrets it when she sees one of those eagles swooping down towards her.

Before it can grab her, Natsu kicks it with his fire dragon’s claw and then scoops Lucy up in his arms bridal style and they leap into the tree-line as another eagle swoops by, just missing them.

Natsu looks down and sees Lucy breathing heavily with her face buried in his scarf.

“Lucy are you okay?” He asks her softly.

At the sound of his voice Lucy turns to look at his face and blushes.

“Y-yeah I’m fine.” She replies softly.

As her fear began to fade a new feeling was arising. Well it wasn’t entirely new. She’d felt this before. A warm feeling in her chest and butterflies in her stomach. She felt like this whenever she was close to Natsu. And she knew what it meant, she had felt it before whenever a cute guy got close to her. But Natsu wasn’t a potential boyfriend? That ship had sailed after she got all dressed up to meet him in the park to dig for holes instead of a date.

He clearly doesn’t think about her in that way. And even if he did, she never would have known from the look on his face.

So she shouldn’t think of him that way either. He could be really annoying sometimes. Breaking into her apartment, wrecking her plans. And yet, sometimes at night with her head on the pillow she could feel him sneaking in.

He was like some mythical thing. And not because he was created as a demon, was taught dragon slayer magic and time traveled 400 years to be with her now. To be with her now...

As she looks at him she wishes she could know what he’s thinking.

There’s one prize I’d cheat to win.

“Oooo Lucy’s blushing!” Happy teases pulling Lucy from her thoughts. “I think she’s in lo-“

“Shut it cat!” Lucy retorts before Happy can finish.

“I agree with Lucy. Now is not the time for jokes.” Erza says seriously as Natsu sets Lucy down. “We have one more clearing to cross before we can reach the willow tree that holds the crystal.”

“Another one!?” Lucy exclaims. “We can’t find some other way around?”

“Unfortunately we can’t.” Erza says. “Our only option is to run for it and fight too if need be.”

Lucy looks past the tree-line to see the large willow tree on the other side. It would be a long, dangerous sprint. She takes in a shaky breath then exhales when she feels a warm hand slide into hers.

She turns to see Natsu smiling at her. But not with that goofy grin he usually wore. This time, he was smiling at her softly with an endearing look on his face, as if he was looking at something precious. Her heart was pounding and she could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Don’t worry Lucy. I won’t let any of those birds hurt you.” He promises.

Lucy smiles back at him.

“Thanks Natsu.” Lucy says.

“Alright now let’s go fry up some chicken!” Natsu shouts and runs into the clearing.

“Natsu wait!” Wendy shouts after him.

“That idiot! We were supposed to come up with a plan together first!” Gray exclaims.

“Well it’s too late for that now!” Erza says with a frustrated sigh before drawing her sword and following him.

Lucy figures that Natsu’s plan was to draw all of the attention to himself, so that the rest of them could sneak past. And that would have been a good plan if they weren’t in an open clearing. There was nowhere to hide and now they were all spread out. And there were more birds this time too!

What’s worse is that these birds were quicker. Lucy knows that if she slows down to summon a spirit, she’d surely get picked up and carried away! And she was definitely having a few close calls right now.

I thought Natsu said he would protect me? She thinks to herself as another bird swoops low.

Lucy was almost at the willow though. Just right through those branches and then she’d be safe!

But she was so focused on getting there that she didn’t see the branch hanging down from one of the other trees in her path! And as soon as she made it there, she smacked her head on the branch and everything went black.

—————————

When Lucy awoke, she was laying under the willow tree all alone, her companions nowhere to be found.

As she rose to sit up she found that her head was in no pain from getting hit, like she had never hit it in the first place. And the killer birds were nowhere to be found either.

She gently brushes the leaves off of the long purple skirts of her corseted dress as she tries to remember what she was doing out here in the woods.

“Did you rest well Princess?” A familiar voice asks and Lucy smiles.

“Virgo!” She exclaims, happy to see her face.

Suddenly her memories of how she wound up in this situation came flooding back to her. She, Princess Lucy Heartfilia of the kingdom of Fiore was betrothed to a man she did not love by her father who cared little for her happiness. So she ran away with the help of her most trusted maid Virgo, to a place where she knew she would be safe. The territory that was home to the man she truly loved. Thinking of him made her chest feel warm, yet she could not picture his face at the moment. Nor his name.

“Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark.”

Those were the instructions he gave Virgo. She waited for the signal. A dragon flew over the castle, casting a dark shadow over it to give she and Virgo cover as they escaped.

And now it was dark. She was in the place. But her man was nowhere to be found.

“Have we made across the border to the Dragon’s Forest yet Virgo?” Lucy asks eagerly.

“We should have, if that is the Dragon’s Roar River.” Virgo says, pointing at the rushing white-water river that was behind them.

Lucy couldn’t begin to think of how they managed to cross it. But she wasn’t as interested in figuring that out as she was about another matter.

“If we’re really in the forest then he should have known I’m here and come by now. Unless I was napping for a shorter time than I thought...” Lucy says.

“Hmm...well it could be the second river further up ahead?” Virgo says and looks ahead. “Perhaps we should continue to move inward onto his territory, just to be sure we’re in the right place.”

“I agree.” Lucy says and brings herself to stand, brushing the dirt off of her skirts.

Then fear grips her heart as she hears horses whinnying nearby, followed by men’s voices shouting.

“No...” She mutters as she turns to see a carriage followed by a group of soldiers crossing a bridge over the river.

A few of the soldiers ahead of the carriage began to approach with their spears drawn.

“There’s the princess! King Jude, we found her and the traitorous maid!” The soldiers shout as Lucy and Virgo turn to run away.

As Lucy desperately hiked up her skirts to run away, she regrets not changing into a different outfit. These large skirts definitely weren’t made for running away from danger in the woods. But once she and Virgo had discovered what her father’s plans for her were, there was no time to change. They had to leave immediately to get to the one person Lucy knew could protect her. And as the soldiers surround her and Virgo, and her father approaches them, Lucy hopes that he’ll come soon.

“Daughter, have you gone mad!” Lucy’s father, King Jude exclaims.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Lucy bravely retorts.

She may be surrounded by soldiers and facing the man who had been controlling her life since she was a child. But if he was going to lock her away in the castle and force her to marry a man she didn’t love, then she won’t succumb to that fate without a fight.

“You’re saying I’m the one at fault!” Jude exclaims. “You snuck out of the castle on the night of the ball being held to announce your engagement because you trust in the counsel of some lunatic maid over that of your own father! And now I find you here with that maid trespassing on dragon’s territory! And you think I’m the one who’s mad!”

The anger behind his words made tears sting at the corners of Lucy’s eyes, but she wouldn’t back down from this fight. She couldn’t. There was too much at stake.

“What kind of father would ignore the happiness of his own daughter and make such a huge decision for her without even asking her what she thinks!” Lucy exclaims.

“Because a father knows what’s good for his daughter!” Jude replies. “And a good daughter would obey her father and do what’s best for her kingdom!”

“It’s not what’s best for the kingdom! It’s what’s best for you!” Lucy retorts. “The royal families you wish to make alliances with only care about their own wealth! They don’t care about the citizens of their own kingdoms much less ours! I could never marry someone like that!” Lucy shouts.

“What the hell are you all doing in my forest!” A voice shouts from somewhere in the trees.

Gasps of fear erupted amongst the soldiers while Jude’s face pales. Virgo cracks a small smile and a look of relief washes over Lucy’s features as the figure of a man drops down from the trees.

This was no ordinary man though. Even though he wore the typical noble attire for a human man, he also had large maroon dragon wings sprouting from his back, and two matching horns pointing up from the spiky pink hair on his head. He even had matching maroon scales on the sides of his face and trailing down his neck. Most people were terrified when they looked into his bright reptilian green eyes. But Lucy felt something very different. She felt warmth, and love.

“Natsu...” she sighs in joy and relief.

“Lucy.” Natsu replies with the same warmth in his voice.

The warmth in his voice makes warmth flood through her chest. No matter what world they were in, Natsu would always be her knight in shining armor.

He holds out his arms for her and she moves to go to him but her father grabs her arm and yanks her back.

“Hey! Let me go!” Lucy protests and tries to yank her arm back but her father only pulls harder “Ouch!” She yelps.

Upon seeing his damsel in distress Natsu’s soft demeanor immediately changes into something more reminiscent of the beast he resembles.

“Get off of her!” Natsu roars.

He charges forward at an inhuman speed, right past the guards and yanks Jude’s hand off of Lucy’s arm, not caring to be gentle with him at all, causing him some pain as he takes Lucy into his arms and hugs her.

“Are you alright?” Natsu asks her softly. “Did he hurt your arm?”

“Just a bit when he grabbed it. But I’ll be alright now that you’re here.” Lucy replies and rests her head under his chin, taking comfort in the warmth his body provided.

Natsu holds her in his arms and gives her a light squeeze as he rests his cheek on top of her head.

“You’re safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.” Natsu swears and presses a light kiss to her forehead.

“And yet you dare hurt me, her father?” Jude asks Natsu angrily, making him frown. “The King that your father is loyal to!”

“The Dragon King Igneel doesn’t swear loyalty to humans. He’s only loyal to his friends, and mine. And you’re no friend of his.” Natsu growls back.

“But I made a deal with him! I let the dragons live in this forest in peace without any humans trespassing on your land and give you the noble title of Count to represent the dragons in our kingdom and in return the dragons protect us from invaders. We have an agreement, your father is loyal to me, and therefore as his son you should show me some respect!” Jude declares.

Natsu can’t help but smirk and laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Jude asks.

“You clearly misunderstood the purpose of the deal.” Natsu says. “The only reason my father protects your kingdom instead of burning it to the ground is because your daughter lives in it.”

Lucy smiles as Natsu gently nuzzles his face against her head before continuing.

“I’m half-dragon half-human. Igneel fell in love with a human woman and through some source of magic they found he was able to have a child with her but she died giving birth to me. So I stayed with my father’s people, the dragons. They were the only ones that accepted me. The humans all thought of me as a monster and when I was a kid they would chase me away when I would go into their towns looking for desserts and other treats I could smell from the outskirts of town. And because of the death of my mother my father is very protective of me so he’d burn down any village that treated me poorly. Then one day we came to Fiore and it was the same story as the other kingdoms. I got chased out of the markets and somehow wound up in the palace gardens to hide. Then that’s when I met Lucy. The first human I’d ever met who wasn’t afraid of me. And to this day, the only human who’s treated me with kindness. That’s why Igneel agreed to protect Fiore. Because it’s where my new best friend Lucy lived.”

“So the only reason Fiore isn’t ashes right now is because King Igneel wanted you to be able to have play dates with my daughter?” Jude asks.

“Yep.” Natsu replies. “If we burned the place down then my Princess would cry. And I can’t have that.” Natsu says.

“Your princess?” Jude asks. “You think she belongs to you?”

“She doesn’t belong to anybody she’s a person not an object!” Natsu retorts.

“That’s where you’re wrong! I’m her father so she belongs to me!” Jude replies.

“Not anymore!” Lucy shouts back, finding her courage now that she was with Natsu. “Count Natsu Dragneel and I are in love and he won’t let you take me away from him to marry me off to someone else!”

“He was going to do what?!” Natsu exclaims and growls at Jude.

“He was going to sell me off like a brood mare to some horrible prince so I came here to run away with you so we can be together!” Lucy explains.

“I’ll never let my daughter marry a monster!” Jude yells.

“Natsu’s not a monster! But you are!” Lucy retorts.

Jude smirks and nods his head.

Then a loud smacking noise comes from behind them and Lucy and Natsu turn around to see that one of the guards slapped Virgo in the face.

“Virgo! No!” Lucy exclaims and turns back to her father. “Why would you hurt her?”

“Because I can’t hurt you at the moment. So your dear little treasonous maid will bear the punishment for your disobedience instead.” Jude explains.

“You’re disgusting!” Lucy replies reflexively but then regrets it when Virgo gets hit again.

Natsu frowns as he notices Lucy starting to cry so he turns to the soldiers with a frown.

“Virgo duck!” Natsu shouts before breathing fire at the soldiers.

They scream as the flames hit them and Virgo gets free of them. Lucy runs over to hug her.

“Virgo I’m so sorry!” Lucy apologizes.

“It’s alright princess! It wasn’t your fault!”Virgo says.

Natsu smiles as Lucy embraces her friend. Happy that she wasn’t crying anymore. Then he grimaces as he feels a shooting pain in his side.

He turns and sees Jude holding the sword that just stabbed him.

Virgo gasps when she opens her eyes and sees what happens. Then Lucy turns and her heart shatters.

“Natsu! No!” She wails.

“Don’t worry Lucy I’m fine.” Natsu says and grabs the sword in his hand and pulls it out of the wound with no pain whatsoever.

The look on Jude’s face was priceless.

“I’m half-dragon. You should’ve aimed for my head if you wanted me dead you moron.” Natsu says.

Lucy giggles at the fact that Natsu called her father a moron.

Jude brings the sword up to swing at his head and Natsu just plucks it from his hands and throws it away, hitting some poor soldier in the helmet and knocking them out.

Virgo and Lucy get grabbed by soldiers again so Natsu breathes fire to get them free. But while he’s doing that a few more soldiers stab him in his back and stomach.

“Shit will you guys just quit that it feels weird!” Natsu exclaims and fired up his fist to take them down and that’s when one soldier gets a lucky stab in Natsu’s chest too.

“Princess you and Natsu need to get out of here!” Virgo urges. “He’s strong but he’s also outnumbered!”

“I know but what about you?” Lucy asks. “My father will kill you for helping me, I can’t just leave you here!”

“Don’t worry! I’ll be fine.” Virgo says as she picks up a sword and grins.

Lucy smiles, feeling reassured that Virgo would be able to handle herself and she runs over to Natsu.

“Natsu!” Lucy says as she runs towards him and he takes her into his arms. “Let’s get out of here!”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Natsu says.

And the next thing Lucy knows she’s being lifted into the air with Natsu.

————————

As they fly over the trees, away from the willow tree and deeper into dragon territory Natsu notices that Lucy is surprisingly unafraid.

“I thought you were scared of heights?” Natsu asks.

“I can’t see how high up I am if I’m only looking at you.” Lucy replies.

Natsu can’t help but kiss her.

————————

When they finally land at the Dragon King’s den, Igneel is there to greet them.

“Greetings great dragon.” Lucy says and curtseys for him.

“Lucy! How lovely it is to see you again!” Igneel greets. “I had a hunch that you were the reason Natsu was out today but I had no idea he would be bringing you to our den.”

“Natsu why have you brought her he-Natsu?” Igneel asks.

Lucy turns around and gasps. She hadn’t noticed before because it was dark but now that they were under the light of the moon…there were red stains on his clothing and he looked paler than usual.

“Natsu your wounds! I thought you said they weren’t serious?” Lucy exclaims as she runs over to him to inspect his injuries closer.

“I lied so you wouldn’t worry over me until we were safe. If I had said something sooner then you would have panicked and it would’ve slowed us down and then we would’ve never gotten out of there.” Natsu admits and Lucy cups his cheek and Natsu leans into her touch.

“Who did this to my son?” Igneel growls.

“My father and his goons.” Lucy answers with gritted teeth, her rising anger matching that of the great fire dragon behind her.

“And why would they dare do such a horrific thing to betray me?” Igneel demands.

“Because I was protecting Lucy.” Natsu says hoarsely and groans as Lucy sets him down into a more comfortable position on the ground. “King Jude was being cruel to her, he was going to try to take her away from me and give her away to someone else so he could expand his fortune. So Lucy fled here to find me so we could be together, but the King and his soldiers caught up to us and we had to fight our way out.”

Igneel watches with concern as Lucy tears off strips of her dress fabric to soak up the blood on Natsu’s wounds. But there were multiple wounds, and she only had two hands.

“Then they will pay for this!” Igneel declares. “I’ll burn them all!”

“No! Please spare Fiore!” Lucy urges. “The citizens have done nothing wrong. Please don’t let them suffer just because of their King’s wrongdoings!” Lucy begs.

“I understand.” Igneel says. “And I agree with you. I apologize for being quick to jump to violence but after losing Natsu’s mother, all I’ve ever wanted is for my son to be safe. And when you have powers like mine that allow you to burn away anything that troubles you well, it’s easy for that to become the default response. But after Natsu met you I realized that there are other humans like his mother that don’t see dragons as monsters that need to be slain.”

“I’ve never seen your son as a monster. I met him after my mother died from illness and he brought such joy into my life by being my friend. And now he’s grown into the man I love. When I’m with him, I know I’m home. Anywhere else is hollow. And so with your permission I’d like to take his hand, wreck my father’s plans, and make Natsu my man.” Lucy says and smiles at him and Natsu smiles back.

A look of pure joy spread over the dragon’s features and he looks at the lovers before him.

“Oh Lucy I know how much my son cares for you. He’s already told me of his intentions to make you his mate so yes of course I approve!” Igneel says. “But first we should really treat Natsu’s wounds.”

Lucy gasps. She was so caught up in the euphoria of being able to marry the man of her dreams that she completely forgot he was bleeding internally.

“Oh my goodness! I completely forgot! Natsu I’m so sorry you must be in so much pain right now!” Lucy rambles and Natsu can’t help but smile at how cute she looks when she was worried over him.

“It’s not that bad actually. I’ve had worse.” Natsu says with a shrug.

“In this tower over here is where Natsu lives.” Igneel says and gestures his head towards an old stone tower on the edge of the clearing. “You’ll find some medicine in there that the dragon Grandeeney made to heal any wounds that a dragon or half-dragon might sustain.”

“Thank you. I’ll take care of him right away.” Lucy says and puts his arm around her shoulder and leads him inside.

—————————

As Lucy and Natsu sat on his bed together, Lucy takes note of how amazing this healing dragon’s powers must be. This medicine was a miracle. His wounds had stopped bleeding the instant she put the bandage with the magic salve over them.

But other thoughts were crossing her mind. As she dresses his wounds in the dark room lit only by candle light, Lucy can’t help but feel a bit aroused. He was shirtless and her hands were all over his muscular torso, and she couldn’t help but take note of the strength those muscles conveyed. She wonders if he feels anything either.

The silence starts to feel deafening so Lucy decided to ask a question that’s been on her mind for awhile.

“Natsu, now that we’re betrothed I think I should ask you, how do dragons get married?” Lucy asks.

“They don’t.” Natsu says simply.

“Oh...” Lucy asks unsure of how to respond. “But I thought you told me once that dragons mate for life.”

“They do. Just not in the way humans do. Dragons don’t really have an official ceremony or anything like humans do.” Natsu explains. “When two of them decide they want to become a couple they just…mate.”

“I see.” Lucy says as she dresses the gash on his left pectoral.

The tension that was already starting to build between them had now fully crept it’s way into Lucy’s mind as Natsu mentioned mating. She had been thinking about doing this with Natsu for a long time. She does want to marry him after all, so she already found him attractive. But now, she had run away from her home, and the rules that came with it. She and Natsu had already promised themselves to each other with words, why not follow through with actions as well?

“Well, weddings take a long time to plan.” Lucy begins to explain as she gently lets her fingers trail down his torso after setting the dressing. “And even if we were to have a wedding, it would probably be just your father’s clan anyway, since my father would sooner plot your murder than hand me over to you as a bride. He may even be plotting something to steal me away from you sooner rather than later. So instead of waiting for a wedding…” Lucy says, moving her gaze up to look into his eyes. “I think that we should just get married now. The dragon way.”

Natsu takes in a deep breath when he realizes what she’s asking. What she’s offering him. And Lucy could tell by the tent forming in his pants and his breaths becoming heavier that his primal instincts were starting to awaken. But Natsu kept himself in check. Sure he’s had these thoughts about Lucy before but only when he was alone, leaving him to deal with those urges on his own. But now she was right here and moving closer to him, with dilated pupils and his brain was screaming at him to just tear off her dress and claim her now. But he holds back. Because this wasn’t just some fantasy, this was real. This was Lucy, the love of his life and before he accepts her offer he has to be sure it’s what she wants.

“Lucy are you sure that’s what you want?” He asks.

“Yes I’m sure.” Lucy says “We are in dragon’s land after all. And I’ll be living with your father and his clan. So I want to do things their way.”

Natsu’s arousal builds even more as she takes his hand and places it at the top of the corset that was keeping her ample chest confined while her other hand slowly trails down his abdomen.

“I love you Natsu. And I want you to claim me, if you want me too.” Lucy says.

Natsu searches her face for any sign of unease or reluctance, but he only finds the same emotions he was feeling for her. Lust and love. And as she places her hand over the bulge in his pants, all doubt leaves his mind and he lets his primal urges take over as he cups her cheek to speak to her.

“Lucy my love you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Of course I want to claim you as my mate.” Natsu declares before tugging at the bow on her corset.

Lucy gasps as she feels the garment loosen before Natsu seals his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss as she unbuckles his belt and they proceed to undress each other, and make love not long after.

——————————

That morning when Lucy woke up she was still naked in bed. She follows the sunlight streaming in from the balcony, and sees her clothes scattered on the floor.

Lucy felt goosebumps form on her skin as she remembered the warmth of Natsu’s touch from the night before. His hands hands were strong and felt rough against her soft skin, just like the parts of his body that had scales, and the contrast felt divine. He caressed every part of her body with his hands, and then re-traced his path with his mouth which had only aroused her more and encouraged her to explore his body as well, wanting to know him as intimately as he knew her as they consummated their love and became one.

Her father couldn’t marry her off to anyone now. Natsu had claimed her for himself last night, and she loved every minute of it. She was his, and he was hers. Mates. And Count and Countess to the human kingdom, and prince and princess among the dragons.

And right now her Prince was standing on the balcony, still naked as well. They were deep in the woods after all, it’s not like any passers by would see them. But then he turns around when he hears her stirring in bed.

“Good morning my princess.” Natsu says and smiles.

“Good morning my prince.” Lucy says and smiles warmly back at him.

He comes over to her and leans down to place a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Did you sleep well?” Natsu asks.

“Yeah. I slept great.” Lucy says. “The bed was so warm with you in it.”

“Well duh, fire dragon.” Natsu reminds her and Lucy giggles and kisses him again.

Then Natsu’s expression turns serious.

“Before you woke up, my father talked with me. He still wants revenge for what your father attempted to do to me, and what he attempted to do to you too.” Natsu says.

“Oh…” Lucy says.

She looks down at the blanket in-between them as she tries to think. On one hand she certainly agreed that something needed to be done about her father. But on the other hand, he was her father.

“What does he want to do?” Lucy asks.

“He wants to remove your dad from power.” Natsu starts. “And let you take his place.”

Lucy perks up and looks at Natsu who was smiling with pride.

“So I’d be Queen of Fiore?” Lucy asks.

“Yep. And we don’t have to kill your dad. We can just lock him up in the dungeon or something.” Natsu explains.

“Then you’d be my King?” Lucy asks.

“King Consort, since you’re the one with the power but yeah.” Natsu says with a shrug.

“That sounds great.” Lucy says. “Except…You and your father like to travel sometimes, go to other lands to train together…If I’m Queen then I won’t be able to come with you.”

Lucy looks away sadly but then Natsu cups her chin in his fingers and tilts her head towards him.

“You’ll never be alone again.” Natsu says and gently cups her cheek. “You’re the love of my life, and I promise we’ll always be together Lucy.”

He leans forward and kisses her.

Lucy closes her eyes and melts into the kiss.

——————————

When her eyes flutter open she sees Natsu’s face and smiles warmly.

“Oh Natsu…” she sighs dreamily.

Natsu frowns at her.

“Uh, Luce you’re looking at me funny. Are you okay?” He asks her with a frown.

“Hmm…” Lucy hums in confusion. “Of course I am! I’m with you my…” She explains until she notices his horns are missing, and that there are no scales on his body either.

She reaches forward and feels the blankets and realizes she’s no longer naked in the expensive large bed she was in before, but wearing her pajamas while in a bed at the infirmary in Magnolia!

“My…what?” Natsu asks, wanting her to finish her sentence.

“My…idiot!” Lucy shouts and kicks him in the stomach with her foot.

“Ouch!” Natsu yelps and doubles over in pain.

“Yep! She’s fine!” Happy says cheerfully from the other side of Lucy’s bed. “You really had us going there for a second Lucy, I was worried that that bump on your head might have made you go crazy!”

Lucy reaches up and feels that there are bandages wrapped around her forehead. And she winces slightly in pain as she touches the injured spot and remembers reality. She must have hit her head pretty hard in order to have envisioned Natsu as some sort of romantic Prince.

“Honestly, I’m not too sure I’m entirely sane.” Lucy says.

“That would explain why you kicked me.” Natsu grumbles.

“Want me to do it again?” Lucy growls and Natsu yelps in fear.

“Nope! I learned my lesson, please don’t hurt me again!” Natsu pleads.

“Maybe I should still go get Porlyusica?” Happy suggests. “I mean, she’s mad at you now, but when she woke up she was looking at you like she was in love.” Happy teases.

Lucy frowns at Happy but at the same time can’t help but blush as she remembers how she felt about the Natsu she met in her dream. I mean there were obviously some differences between the two of them. But now that she thought about it...there were a lot of similarities too. The Natsu from her dream may have been more obviously romantic but most of what he was saying to her and the way he was looking at her...the real Natsu did all of that too. And she loved him for it.

And then it hit her...did she love Natsu?

“I’m sorry Lucy.” Natsu says softly and looks into his lap. “I said I’d protect you and you got hurt.”

“Well, you said you wouldn’t let the birds hurt me. And I got hit by a willow branch. So you didn’t break your promise. You’ve never broken any promise to me.” Lucy assures him.

Ever since they met in Hargeon, he had been the major catalyst for the events in her life. Both good and bad. And this job was no different.

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind.

“I know but still, you got hurt because I was so busy keeping those birds away from you that I didn’t notice that damn branch.” Natsu pouts.

“It’s not your fault. I should have been watching where I was going.” Lucy says.

“If I was with you you wouldn’t have had to worry about that. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I know that ever since Tartaros you get upset when I do that.” Natsu says and Lucy’s heart skips a beat.

So he really did notice how his year long absence had affected her...Who would have known? Certainly not Lucy. He really paid attention to her feelings like that?

“And I don’t like it when you’re sad. It makes me feel weird, like I want to fix it and make you happy again as soon as I can. It’s easy when I can just punch whatever’s bothering you until it goes away. But it’s different when I’m the one that hurt you. It makes me feel worse because I never want to be the cause of your pain. I want to be the one that takes it away, or even better prevents you from getting hurt in the first place. All I want is to keep you safe and make you happy. But I failed...”

The more that you say, the less I know.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Only the lovers in the books she reads say things like this. Maybe he wasn’t as dense as she thought? Did he know what love was? Did he love her?

“Instead of fighting for you I should have just been with you. I made a mistake and you got hurt. But I won’t make it again. I’ll be more mindful of you the next time we’re on a job.” Natsu says. “I swear I‘ll protect you next time.”

“Natsu...we’ve been doing jobs together for years. Nothing ever goes the way it’s supposed to.” Lucy says and holds out her hand for Natsu. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Wherever you stray, I follow.

Natsu smiles and it warms Lucy’s heart as he takes her hand.

“Promise that tomorrow you’ll wreck my plans again by taking me on some wild adventure?” Lucy asks.

“You bet!” Natsu says and flashes her his signature goofy grin.

That’s my man.

#nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu fanfic #fairy tail #victorian au #royalty au #dragon natsu dragneel #dragon natsu

76 notes · View notes

camdentown-library · 3 years

Text

You hurt me first || male!Eivor x fem!Reader

(GIF by eivorella )

𝕺𝖍, 𝖆 𝖇𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋𝖋 𝖆 𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖋, 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖙 𝖇𝖊?

Summary: You are a Hidden-One and Eivor is your travel companion. Things will change when Eivor forgets one of your important expeditions to spend a whole day with Randvi. What will happen? Requested? ANON: I love love LOVE your writing 😭 and I have a request that I hope you would accept 🥺 could you write a jealous reader x eivor awwww I love that kind of stuff about randvi’s crush on eivor and a cute confession at the end. 😚 Genre: Fluff, a bit angst (only 20%) Words: 2048

NOTE: siktir et = Fuck in turkish

"Eivor" your voice called the attention of the Viking who was returning to Ravensthorpe on a horse "But where have you been?" you asked impatiently putting your hands on your hips. You had been looking for him all day, today you would have had to leave for the porssimo kingdom to conquer, important peace negotiations were underway and he needed an alliance as much as you to find the rest of the order of the ancients. The blond friend with an agile leap jumped off his steed and only then did you notice that Randvi was with him, riding another horse. As your eyes met your stomach felt a sharp pang, as if your own hidden blade had pierced your organ, while a bitter aftertaste formed at the end of your tongue. "Y/N!" Eivor said in a joyful tone, awakening you from your hostile thoughts "Were you looking for me perhaps?" the hands on your hips tightened in a tenacious grip for the nervous. "Maybe I was looking for you?!" you asked with an ironic tone "siktir et Eivor, have you forgotten what we were supposed to do today?" you asked visibly annoyed, while your Viking friend (probably from the alcohol still running lightly in his veins) looked at you puzzled as he tilted his head to one side. You stared up in shock, was he really so overwhelmed by Randvi and his stupid crush that he forgot why they were there in Ravensthorpe?! "Oxenfordscire?! Your brother Sigurd?! We were supposed to leave this morning and I've been looking for you all day!" you said angry, while Eivor remained silent not knowing what to repeat "Your brother and my mentor had requested our presence, the negotiations seem to be more difficult than you thought, but apparently it is more important for you to go roaming around fields with Randvi!" your tone became more and more poisonous, and your anger and your jealousy took more and more possession of your body, leaving your calm and calculating Hidden-One mind on the corner "And tell me Eivor, did you drink together? fucked? Or maybe you did both, since you're back in the late afternoon" Randvi's gaze became dark with slight embarrassment, while getting off the horse she slowly walked towards the long house of Jarl Eivor on her side she seemed to have lost her patience, and as always she knew how to do, besides regaining consciousness of himself, he sharpened his sharpest weapon: his tongue and his words. "Stop being a child, Y/N! And above all do not disrespect Randvi, she is the Jarl's wife" replied the man approaching you, his tone was grim even though he tried to stay calm. "Jarl's wife? Seriously Eivor? Do you think ... Do you think I am blind or deaf by any chance?" you asked mimicking his words, while Eivor shook his head in disappointment. "I just took Randvi for a walk, you see she doesn't have the privilege like you of being able to roam far and wide, her duty is to stay locked up in that damn long house. I just let her breathe some air new and moreover..” Eivor took a few more steps towards you, but you did not retreat, as your faces left a few centimeters away “I have no obligation to inform you about my private life, you are not my Jarl , you are not my mother and you are not my wife” your eyes met for a moment, but nothing romantic passed through them, only disappointment and anger. Eivor had been clear with you, you were nobody to him, just a foreign girl who, together with her mentor and her partner, had entered the crow's clan. Pathetic, that's what you were, pathetic to have thought for just a moment that that rough, arrogant Viking cared about you. You took a deep breath, never looking down at those ocean-blue eyes and turning your back on Eivor you said in a cold tone: "I'm leaving now and alone" you said as you mounted the nearest horse. "Wait, the sun has almost gone down now, it's not safe to venture out" said the groom, emerging from the horse stable. "I've ridden alone for years in the desert and in far more hostile places than a couple of green hills" you said seriously and arrogantly, and then cast one last look at Eivor, who looked you in the eye almost...sorry. No! Nonsense...It was obvious he was anything but that or he wouldn't have said those heartless words to you. I beckoned to the horse to leave, and the horse pawing enthusiastically set off at a gallop towards the Oxenfordscire.

* * *

Night had fallen over the moors and forests of distant, cold England. You had camped near a river with your horse, while next to you there was a small fire lit in the hope of keeping you warm. You swore in your mother tongue that you were so reckless...you could at least have taken some fur or something to eat, and instead you were there, cold, alone and with nothing to eat. You looked out over the river, letting the water mirror the image of your face. Look at you, anything but feminine, foreign and definitely not Viking. What did you think was springing up in Eivor's heart? The burning fuse of love? The truth is that you were a fish out of water and neither you, nor Hytham, nor Basim would ever have been part of that extended family. A tear full of frustration, furrowed your face contracted in a grimace that tried in every way to suppress the desperate need to cry and in the impetus you chased a menacing growl by throwing a slap at that river, thus breaking your reflection. A strange rustle in the bushes caught your attention, making you whirl towards that threatening noise. Something was hiding in the dense bush! Slowly you let your hidden blade slip away from your wrist, approaching with extreme silence towards the source of your threat, and as soon as you noticed a dark shape hiding behind the trunk of a tree, you slid as quickly as a splinter, pushing the intruder to the ground . You overtook him immediately, sitting astride his chest and blocking his mighty arms with your legs, while the tip of your blade dangerously caressed his throat. "Give me a good reason not to kill you intruder or you will not see your precious Valhalla" you said threateningly, trying to see his identity in the dim light. "Well if you do, you'll have to explain to Sigurd the reason for his brother's demise" that voice ... Eivor? "You..." "Yeah ..." "YOU HAVE FOLLOWED ME" you said indignantly. "How could I have left you alone?" Eivor asked him indignantly this time. "Yes, sure, right ... spare your bullshit when you explain to Sigurd your delay in Oxenfordscire" you answered bitterly, shaking your head. Eivor was silent for a few moments, perhaps admitting defeat in that speech, and then cleared his throat. "As much as I'm finding, here ... very exciting having a woman straddling my chest, could you take your blade off my throat?" your face flushed with embarrassment and anger and after snorting annoyed you said: "I would really want to pierce your dick with this one, at least so you won't be fooled with that instead of your head" You got up nimbly from him, trying to ignore his amused laugh, how could he behave like this after your argument? Ugh...that man was absurd...

You both leaned back around the small fire you made while Eivor rummaged in his big bag. You tried hard not to stare and ignore it, but when you recognized the smell of dried meat, your throat twisted with hunger. "Have you eaten? I brought some food from Ravensthorpe" Eivor explained, as he brought two succulent strips of dried meat to you, but you shook your head. "I'm not hungry" but he didn't seem to believe it, in fact he raised an eyebrow along with the corner of his mouth. "As you want, then I'll eat it all" he said marking the last words...what a bastard, was he psychologically torturing you?! A cold gust of wind, however, shook you abruptly from your thoughts, making you shiver noisily...damn, what would you pay for a fur coat to cover you with, that cold was so different from the hot nights of Constantinople. Something heavy wrapped around our shoulders, and blinking in perplexity, you turned to Eivor, who had moved to your side, covering you too with his fur cloak. "I don't need you, stop it" you said arrogantly as he rolled his eyes. "Listen, I'm just trying to get you all to your destination, difficult days ahead and I need you and all your strength" the wheat-haired Viking explained seriously. "You wouldn't think you cared today" "Wha-? Listen Y/N ... I don't know what got into you today but I didn't want things to be like this" "Didn't you want? Eivor, you literally told me that my opinion doesn't count for you" the man bit his tongue at the thought of what he had said and shaking his head said: "I can prove to you it's not like that" "Go on" "Today, when Randvi and I were walking, she kissed me" you opened your eyes wide in shock, as you felt for the second time your heart crack into a thousand pieces "But! I rejected her...And not because she was the wife about my brother...as I initially thought. When I saw you go off on horseback, alone, the very thought of not being able to protect you made me feel like I was lost in the cold lands of Hel” he explained, it seemed really to be honest "And when I finally saw you camped here I was able to breathe again knowing that you were not in danger..." "This is not love, it's just a sense of guilt Eivor” you tried to reject it, still burned by your own jealousy. "No, no it's not guilt! I...I want you Y/N, I feel it when you climbed on me to attack me, I feel it now that we are close to warm up, I...for Odin sake I cannot be without you I'm sorry things had to go like this” he said, looking you in the eye. His expression seemed sincere, all of a sudden it no longer seemed I had a fierce and arrogant Viking beside me, but ... a wolf cub, a tender puppy, who just wanted to have his love reciprocated by him. Now it was your heart that was filled with guilt. "In truth...it is not because of the missed mission that I have taken it out on you, Eivor...seeing you with Randvi, has me-ugh what a shame in saying these things... I felt abandoned, I felt cornered, I felt I was worth nothing to you and I could touch the feeling that she was taking you away from me-” your speech was interrupted by the hand of the Viking who fleetingly grabbed your chin making it turn towards him, so as to be able to join your lips in a chaste first impact kiss, but which then poured out all your need to be united, to be able to touch you, to be able to merge your souls into one League.

"I'm here, forever Y/N" Eivor whispered as his mouth brushed yours "but only if you stop being an angry child and promise me you'll eat something, mh?" he said with a playful little smile, getting a light slap on the cheek from you. "Otherwise? Are you abandoning me?" you asked ironically, raising an eyebrow. "I know methods of torture that you cannot imagine, to make you smile with force" he said, returning the ironic tone, while his calloused hands caressed your soft hips. "I thought you were leaving these things to the Ragnarsson, Wolfkissed" you pretended to be surprised, as he pressed his lips to your ear and kissed the earlobe, while his frizzy beard tickled your sensitive skin, giving you a few snorts of laughter. "You don't know my evil side then" he replied with a chuckle and playfully biting your jaw.

#Assassin's Creed #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed imagines #assassins creed imagines #assassins creed imagine #assassin's creed valhalla #assassins creed valhalla #assassins creed valhalla imagine #ac valhalla #assassin's creed valhalla imagine #eivor #male!eivor #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed

142 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.28

A Dangerous Homecoming

04/08/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,529

Warnings: wounds, blood, language, fluff

A/N: We are in the home stretch my loves. The end is in sight. Hopefully I can speed up my momentum. I have the chapters outlined out but always seem to slow down when I’m near the end. I’ve done it with lots of my stories. And I am SORRY. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Consciousness isn’t something that Steve is often at odds with.

From that fateful day when his mother gave in to her most rabid of fears and made her deal with the Sun Witch. With Doctor Erskine’s enthusiastic encouragement and his own experimental flare, Steve’s fate was changed.

He was altered, irrevocably so. The man he might have grown up to be—or rather, the man he would have died as—had disappeared and in his place a new one was formed. One of drive but not ambition. One with the will to do good and now with the strength to do so.

Steve had been blessed with the body to fight, but now he understands that he was also cursed to drag everyone he loves into the darkness opposite his light.

He gasps, sweating into his expensive and ridiculously extravagant tunic. The dark blue, etched in delicate silver and blacks is nearly soaked through.

His dark gray undershirt clings to his wounded and bruised form.

His lungs struggle for breath as his fear mounts, choking him as silver steel eyes grow dark, black, and dangerous. A curtain of deep chestnut hair flutters around a pale but cold bitten face. There’s a gleam to this man’s left and a fist curls with a keening cry as metal bends.

Steve’s hands twitch. His lips part, dried blood crackling around the edges of his lips.

His fever rages, burning hotter than he’s ever burnt before. The wound in his side stings. The pain is consistent until suddenly it stops.

As the dark eyes charge forward, his weapon hand raised to strike, a soft dampness coaxes Steve away from the image. He gasps, death poised to strike only inches away, when a soft whisper pulls him out.

“Shhhh.” The whisper says and Steve lashes out.

His eyes open wide, his hand closed tight around muscle and bone.

“Ow.” You whisper, pained but also controlled.

Steve’s eyes search and find you to his left, right hand angled painfully away from his face with a damp piece of cloth in its grasp.

“You’re safe.” You tell him gently, trying to convince him. “You’re alright.”

The panic in his chest dissipates. His heart begins to slow. There’s a searing burn on his left side and he looks down to see his shirt and tunic pulled up to expose a long wound now stitched together and freshly cleaned.

“Steve…” You plead. “My hand.”

His panic returns and he drops your wrist. “Did I hurt you?”

He pushes himself up but stops as you place a restraining hand on his chest.

“Don’t get up.” You order.

And it is and order. No doubt about it.

Though Steve knows that you take your role as Queen of Broklin very seriously, he has never heard you use that very authority on him and it strokes it heartstrings like a harp.

He sits back, resting against what feels like sacks of grain. It isn’t exactly soft but it’s better than the ground. Beneath his is warm mattress, hay by the feel of it. Grass too probably.

With his senses returning, he takes a quick look around where you’ve brought him.

“Where are we?”

“My home.” You tell him, resuming the cleaning of his face. “Or it used to be.”

You gently massage away the grime from his skin. The blood caked on his scratches and cuts require a bit more pressure but you’re as gentle as can be.

While you work, he takes it in. Your once home.

It’s small. Only one room, slightly smaller than his study back in Broklin.

The floor is made of aged wood that creaks as you shift on your knees to reach the far side of his neck.

There are small holes and cracks, moldy spots of green in one corner. In another a vibrant yellow weed pokes through from the ground below.

The wattle walls have been painted to attempt a brighter interior. The paint is scarce. He can see how you tried your best to make this little room a home.

The windows, all without panes of glass and only shutters to keep out the cold in winter, have begun to crumble and splinter. A vine has begun to take over, weaving it’s way in and up into the leaky thatched roof.

“Sorry about the water. It started raining while I was in the village.” You explain and his eyes hone in on you.

“You went out alone?” He demands, fear beginning to grab hold.

“Just for a little bit.” You stop your cleaning, meeting his fretful gaze with what he knows now is a stubborn will to be independent. “I needed to get some food and clean scraps for your wounds.”

Steve frowns, hating that you'd gone anywhere without him.

He reaches up to place his hand along your left cheek, caressing your skin until his finger finds a small three inch pucker across your cheek bone.

“You’re hurt.” He hates it. He hates it so much his stomach begins to bubble with bile.

“It’s just a scratch, Steve.” You shake your head, then lean towards him again to resume your cleaning. “Luckily my old sewing box was still in the cupboard. I tended your wound as best I could but we should get it looked at properly.

“I don’t want you getting an infection.” You sigh.

Steve’s turns towards the cupboard beside the small table by the fire you’ve got going. There’s an old rusty pot resting just beyond, handle broken.

All of your furniture, including this bed that he’s laying on is of the poorest quality. With you gone and without your care, even though it’s been under a year, it has fallen into disrepair.

“I won’t.” Steve assures you, looking at the sewing box by your legs, resting on the tattered skirts if your once fine dress.

“That won’t work on me, Steve. You’re seeing a doctor as soon as we’re with father.” You frown.

“No.” He shakes his head, looking at your stubborn pout.

He could kiss you. He loves the way you are bot afraid to challenge him or show you care. You love him so openly. With no fear.

He’s never known this kind of love. Freely given with no thought of restraint.

“I mean, I can’t catch an infection.” Steve explains. “I’m already healing. Even my fever is already gone.”

You almost dive towards his cheeks, hand thrown out to feel his temperature. You press your little—well, little to him—palm against his forehead and wait.

Steve can’t help but love you in every moment that you are by his side.

Especially now as you teeter over him, face screwed up with concerned concentration. You’re a mess. Like him.

Skin broken in small places from rocks and the falls you took. Hair completely disheveled. Your crown, the smaller one he’d had made for your outdoor events, is gone. Lost somewhere in the crowd and amongst the fight.

He doesn’t dare bring it to your attention.

His eyes naturally follow the curve of your throat down to your chest, and then finally your stomach.

His calm glee at your fussing quickly fades as the small swell of your stomach—more noticeable to him day after day—grabs hold of his attention completely.

With two hands he cups the bump, wondering if he might somehow know how the little prince is in your belly. His son.

“How are you feeling?” He checks, meeting your gaze which calms as you sit back onto your ankles and place your hands over his.

“He’s alright.” You stroke his fingers, a gesture of comfort. “I was a little worried while we were walking. After the carriage flipped over, I didn’t feel him for a while, but he did wiggle a bit as we walked here.”

Steve feels a rush of relief, grateful to you for always being your shared son’s protector. He knows how much you love him already.

“That’s not what I asked.” Steve clarifies, eyebrows raised high as he waits.

“I’m fine, Steve. A little tired. Achy but that’s to be expected after today. And very worried.” You sigh, shoulders rising high and dropping low as you slouch with the weight of your grief.

Steve knows what you’re thinking about, because he’s been thinking about it too.

He thought about how far he needed to get you away from the city. And Bucky. He thought about his son and his health. And Bucky. He worried about his friends. And Bucky. He wished he could do more for the innocents he’d left behind. And Bucky.

“They’ll have subdued him by now.” Steve promises.

“How do you know? He was so…so lethal, Steve. I’ve never seen him like that. How is it even possible?”

Steve takes a slow breath, knowing that it’s time for this story. He would have preferred for Bucky to tell you himself, but this time…he’ll have to make an exception.

“There’s something you should know about Bucky.” He begins, but you nod.

“This has to do with him being taken a few years ago?” You offer, entirely more knowledgeable than he’d expected you to be. You never cease to amaze him. He shouldn’t be surprised.

You’re smart as a whip. Perhaps not by a Lady’s standards, but you know more than anyone knows. You’re observant and your common sense and instinct is unparalleled.

If you weren’t so important to him, so precious; if you weren’t his only love and the mother of his child, he would recruit you onto the team and find a way to make you impervious to harm.

Maybe find a witch to bewitch you the way they’d done him or even Peter.

“How do you-?”

“The other day when Nat and I spent some time together alone, she alluded to a story. She didn’t tell me, but she said she would. Later.” You explain and Steve can see the resignation of your all too special patience.

“I suppose it’s later.” Steve nods. “A few years ago, Bucky, Nat, Clint, and I were on a quest to find one of the secret Hydra camps in the Southern forests. The deep south. In the elder wood.”

He watches as you bring out your feet from under you and settle on the floor. He hates it, you on the hard surface while he’s on the soft bed…but if he asks you to sit with him, you’ll argue.

“He was gone for weeks. Nat was inconsolable. Clint did what he could but eventually they had to move on. They had things to attend to. Responsibilities. Thor had to go back to Asgard, Tony had to help Pepper run his own Kingdom, and although I—I should have gone back to ruling Broklin, but I couldn’t give up.

“Nat and I kept searching. How could we stop looking? Bucky is…he was my only remaining family. And for Nat…well, it would be like when I lost you. Knowing you’re out there with no way of knowing whether you’re safe, only we knew that Bucky wasn’t.”

“This was after Margaret’s death?” You probe carefully, fearful it seems in upsetting him.

He’s driven that fear into you and it upsets him that you feel you can’t be open with him about Margaret. It’s his own fault.

Steve nods. “Only just. It was so fresh. Her death…and I was grateful for the distraction; however painful it was. The thought of losing Bucky too after everything with Maggie…I couldn’t stand it. I was determined in finding him. As was Nat.”

Steve can almost sense his own desperation again. It was just as bad as when you were missing. He ignores the ache in his chest at both memories and instead presses on, pushing those bad times out of his mind.

You’re here, attentive and precious in front of him. He won’t waste another moment on the thought of you anywhere but at his side.

“When we finally found him, he’d been strapped to a wooden bed with no mattress in the lowest level of a ruined castle. It was damp but hot, as we were farther South than I’d ever been. Although Natasha knew the territory well and we were able to search it with ease thanks to her expertise.

“For the most part, Bucky seemed fine. He was a little tired when we pulled him out of that wretched cell, but he was happy to be with Natasha again.

“His arm…it was gone. Replaced by the one he has now. When we asked him what had happened to it, he said that he didn’t remember and that it did hurt, but not as much as he might have thought it would to lose an arm.”

“Weren’t any of you worried about what they’d done to him?” You ask in shock, voice tight and whispered. Steve can only guess at what has you so spooked but he’s certain it’s the loss of Bucky’s arm. Here was no grand tale of him losing it in battle.

One day it was there, the next it was gone.

“Yes. Of course. Nat and I more than the others because we couldn’t understand why they would take him only to do that to his arm. So, we kept a very close eye on him. We secluded him to one room in the castle with guards at his door day and night.

“Tony was also very suspicious. Only Tony…Tony wanted to do more than just keep an eye on him.” Steve says, voice dropping low and his eyes going dark at the memory of Tony’s panic, the fear in his eyes as he looked at Bucky laying unconscious as he recovered.

A perceived threat. But to Steve, it was Bucky. His friend and brother. Like hell he was going to let anyone hurt him any more than he’d already been injured.

As Steve can’t fight his anger, with his brow furrowed, you seem to realize suddenly that this must have been what drove your Father and Steve apart. This was what had needed your marriage to bridge the divide in their relationship.

“He wanted to lock him up permanently.” You say, not surprised one bit, but a little disappointed? “Or worse…”

As Steve’s gaze meets yours, you read his eyes like no one else in his life can and realize that Tony had actually tried to do something about it, not simply wanted to.

“What did he do?” You barely manage to say.

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, I fought for Bucky. Nat did too. We were split, though Thor and Bruce weren’t there for the fallout, everyone else was.

“Peter was the only one who managed to balance both sides even though he initially fought with Tony. He realized what this would mean and helped mediate a stop to our quarrel. At least for a while.

“Tony and I didn’t speak again until we arranged a marriage between Morgana and myself with the full intention of having it end before we could ever truly consummate the marriage. That’s where you came in.” Steve sighs, feeling a surge of gratitude for you.

He doesn’t even plan for it to happen, but his voice becomes softer as he reaches out to stroke the curve of your chin. Caressing you whenever he has the chance. How long will you allow him to show you his affections?

He cannot be touching you always, despite his desire to do so. He must maintain some form of decorum in front of his friends and subjects.

However, here in the dimly lit home of your past, he can be as free with his love as he pleases.

You catch his hand and release a held breath, looking appeased and happy to feel the heat of his skin, just as he relishes in yours.

“So, Bucky never showed any signs of mental manipulation until today?” You wonder.

“No. Nothing until today. When nothing happened, we assumed he was fine.” Steve sighs heavily, the weight of his fight with Bucky weighing heavy on his shoulders. Had he missed some sort of clue? Had there been an indicator of what was to come? Had he been blind because of how close he was with Bucky. “It’s been more than two years…”

As if that might ease his strife. It doesn’t. It only makes him worry that maybe there is more to come. What if it isn’t over? What if they’ve turned his friend into someone dangerous permanently?

Steve pulls you a little closer and you shift for him, moving where he wants you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. He isn’t satisfied until you’re right against his side, your hands pressed against his chest where your fingers take to restlessly twitching against the loose threads of his shirt.

He watches you, so grateful that you’re safe. You’re as lost in thought as he is. Reliving the terrible day just as he is, no doubt.

Steve’s arm tightens again, and you look up to meet his eyes. Your own worry seems to dissipate as you see the stress in his.

As much as he loves Bucky. He can’t help but think how close he came to taking you from him today. How easily his life might have changed again. For the worse.

With a small quiet sigh, you reach up towards his cheek and begin to wipe at the smudged dirt there but stop after two swipes, eyes going wide as you stare into Steve’s storm blues.

“What?” Steve asks, seeing the shift in your expression. “What’s the matter?”

“I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t think it was important.” You begin, and Steve can hardly breathe.

“Didn’t tell me what, flower?” He coaxes, adjusting on the bed to sit up a little straighter.

“I…I think I know what happened. What set Bucky off today.” Steve begins to speak but you’re quick to shake your head to silence him and he obeys you, shushing if that is what you wish. “I didn’t think it was real. I was just waking up in the carriage when I saw it. I was drifting in and out, but I found it odd and even asked father about it.”

Steve’s impatience begins to prod at him, but he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet for you.

“Now that I think about it, I didn’t see him any other time except for that moment.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes as you struggle to pull the image together in your mind it looks like, so Steve reaches up to cup your cheek.

“Tell me.” He pleads gently, forced but willing.

When you meet his eyes again, he can see the terror there but also the absolute certainty.

“I saw Lord Pierce across the square, getting out of a carriage. Bucky was there with him. Looking upset, I think. Then Lord Pierce leaned in and whispered something into Bucky’s ear.

“He went a little stiff, his face went blank, but then I must have gone under for a moment and when I opened my eyes, Bucky was gone. Lord Pierce was gone too.

“Even then, my heart was racing. I knew that what I saw wasn’t good, but I could have been dreaming it. And when I asked father if Lord Pierce was in attendance at the procession, he said that he wasn’t. That he’d made sure to exclude him purposely. So, I put it out of my mind.”

Steve’s hands are claws against your back, the rage within him is nearly choking. He wants to scream. To destroy. If he weren’t injured, he might have even torn your house apart with his bare hands.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, he assumes because you can feel his upset.

“No.” He manages to say, voice deep and quaking with his anger. “No, Y/N. You did right to tell me now. I don’t blame you.”

“But I should have said something.” You fret.

Steve looks down at your belly, the agony of almost having lost both of you today eats at him and helps calm him. It levels him out and he breathes in slowly, then releases the breath but pulls you to him in a soft embrace.

“You’re safe.” He shuts his eyes, really letting himself feel you there in his arms. He trails one hand down to rest on your stomach, tracing the shape of the small curve. “You both are. That’s all that matters.”

“What does this mean for the kingdom? For Lord Pierce? For Bucky?” You ask him, looking to him for a response to this new crisis.

Steve doesn’t often feel as if he is a king with people who depend on him.

Though he knows that he does indeed have a responsibility to his people, he doesn’t often feel as if he’s looked on for leadership. Those moments when someone is truly waiting for him to make a decision.

In your eyes he sees devotion and respect. He sees a genuine intention to follow. And yet he knows that even with this willingness, you would easily disagree with him if you felt it were important.

Everyday you are proving to him that you are not only the woman he loves, but the Queen he has needed at his side.

With you beside him, he truly feels as though he could rule his Kingdom with confidence, with grace, and with a will to do better. For you. For his son. And for all of the people who depend on him.

“I will issue a warrant for his arrest.” Steve declares, confident in his decision. “I will state his crimes clearly so that everyone may see what a snake he is. It will ruin his name and he will have no choice but to either turn himself in for trial or run.”

“What if he runs?”

“Then we will follow.” He nods. “He’ll pay for what he did to Bucky. He’ll pay for what he’s done to you.”

You lift your chin, filled with what he hopes is belief that he can do it. That he can bring Pierce to his knees.

“No one hurts my family and gets away with it.” Steve declares. “No one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing?!” Natasha shouts, shoving herself between Tony and Bucky, fully intent on punching if the need should arise.

The beautiful pale stones of Tony’s castle are a stark contrast to the horrors on the bed behind her.

Natasha glances back at Bucky, wary of the amount of blood he’s losing from the countless wounds to his torso.

What tortures her further is the knowledge that she was the one that put three of those stabs into his side.

She’d been careful to avoid his most sensitive spots, but after he’d woken up on the way home, he’d tried to fight his way out.

It took a hard hit from Tony to the back of the head to knock him out completely and he hasn’t woken up since.

“I need to remove the metal of his arm.” Tony replies exasperated with Natasha’s meddling.

“I needs to wait.” She says.

“It can’t. Bruce said I need to remove it immediately. He’ll have to treat that wound too to prevent infection.

Natasha licks her lips, her green eyes blazing with fear.

“Nat…Let me fix him.” Tony pleads.

“I don’t trust you.” Nat replies, brow crinkling with distrust.

“I know.” And Tony can’t blame her. He’d made a bad impression the first time Bucky had shown up altered. Now here is the results of what he’d always feared but he knows better now about what he’s willing to lose by taking certain precautions.

Bucky is irreplaceable to Natasha and Steve. He must respect that if he’s going to keep not only you but the team in his life.

“But you have to.” Tony argues, holding his hands out for her, his tools held tight as he waits for her to move.

Natasha turns around to look at Bucky once more, her face contorted with indecision and grief and reluctantly moves aside.

Tony lunges for Bucky and works quickly on his arm while Natasha cuts away Bucky’s clothing to tend to his other various wounds.

~~~~~~~~~~

“He’s stable for now.” Bruce declares, wrapping up Bucky’s arm recess where before there’d been shredded metal.

“Will he wake?” Tony asks, trying to keep his voice down for Natasha’s sake.

She’s only just fallen asleep, sitting in a large cushioned chair with a high back. Her hand firmly wrapped around Bucky’s scuffed up right hand.

“What did you give her?” Bruce asks, ignoring Tony’s question for a moment as he also looks to Nat to see her sleeping so peacefully.

“Just one of Agatha’s herbs. She’s a witch with herbs.”

“Or just a witch.” Bruce says quietly, fixing Tony with a wary look.

“I’ve been thinking so too. But she’s devoted to keeping Y/N safe so she’s a good one, as far as I’m concerned.” Tony moves to the wall to pull the call. Somewhere in the castle, he’s sure a bell rings.

“She’s going to be upset when she wakes.” Bruce points out.

“She needs the rest. Thor, Clint, and Peter are out searching. Sam has gone back to Broklin in case they head that way.” Tony assures his friend. “We’ll find them.”

“Y/N is going to be upset that you’ve got Sharon helping Samuel.” Bruce teases, a small awkward smile playing on his lips.

“She’ll deal with it. Finding them is most important right now. Not jealousy.” Tony argues.

Bruce huffs a small laugh, turning to seal Bucky’s bandage before checking on the wounds that Nat had tended to just to be sure they were sealed well.

“You are aware that Sharon snuck into Steve’s room to try and seduce him, and your daughter caught them in bed together, right?” Bruce asks, turning a knowing look to his friend.

Tony blinks, hands clasped at his front before he begins to fix his shirt.

“I am now.” Tony admits. “I’m sure she didn’t let them get away with it. And they seem fine now.”

Mind racing with what might have happened after finding Steve and Sharon like that, he resolves to give Steve a scolding when he sees him.

When. He will find you both if it’s the last thing he does.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks, voice groggy from sleep.

You’re uncurling from his side, moving to his removed tunic to rifle along the front at his expensive baubles and medals.

“To get us some food and something less conspicuous to wear. We don’t know if we’re being pursued. We must lay low.”

“And going into the village to buy things isn’t the opposite of laying low?” Steve asks.

You shake your head. “I’ll only be half an hour and I know the people here. They won’t hurt me.”

Most of them…

“Let me go.” Steve begins to get up, but you frown when he groans.

“No.” You insist, moving to him with a handful of jewels and silver.

You push him back down onto the bed and fix the ratty blanket you’d used to use over him.

“Stop arguing with me.” You chastise him. “I’ll be faster. You’re still wounded.”

“I don’t like you going out there alone.” Steve argues.

“Steven, please. Don’t fight me on this. I will be as quick as I possibly can. I’ll be as invisible as I was before I left. You’ll see. No one will pay me any mind. I was an insignificant orphan. No one will care that I’m here.” You assure him.

“You’re Queen of Broklin.” Steve argues. “And you look like her now, whatever you may think. You don’t look like the girl that came to my castle nearly a year ago.”

“What do I look like then?” You wonder, stripping off your dress before pulling on an old ratty set that you’d had here in the house from before.

It’s thin and meant for summer. Does little to shield the cold but it’s better than your regal, however torn up it might be, gown.

“Even in that you look like an angel.” Steve says.

You can’t help it. You laugh.

“Don’t you think you’re a little biased?” You ask him.

He frowns at you.

“Steve, I’ll be fine.” You move back to him and he welcomes you despite the terrible clothes you’re wearing.

He pulls you in suddenly, no warning as he kisses you hard.

You gasp, hands tense on his shoulders as his lips crush yours painfully.

When he pulls away, he does so slowly, his kiss shifting into tenderness.

“What-?”

“Please be cautious. Don’t talk to anyone that you don’t have to. Turn my cloak inside out and take it. I will not have you and our child freezing.” He worries.

“Why weren’t you this annoying when we first got married?” You tease him and he shuts his eyes, head falling forward to rest against your chest.

You chuckle and stroke his dirty hair, smoothing it out despite the blood and grime still caked into it.

“Please be safe.” He begs, looking up at you again. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, Y/N.”

“You’d go on. Because you’re strong. And you have a whole Kingdom that depends on you.”

Steve sighs. “I don’t want to be rational. I’d gladly follow you into the end.”

“Then I guess I’d better not meet my end.” You decide.

Getting up, you move to his cloak and turn it inside out as he wished. It’s plain gray on the underside. Still a fine fabric but less ostentatious in its stitching. It makes it much warmer in this clothing and it smells like Steve still.

“Stay quiet.” You tell him, then pick up his shield and put it beside him. “I’ll be right back.”

You slip out into the early morning freeze. The wheat fields are barren and give you no cover as you trek across the cold semi-frozen mud. It sticks to your shoes, much too nice for the plain peasant dress you’re wearing but with the cloak they’re somewhat hidden.

You’re tired by the time you reach the edge of the village and take shelter in the smithy’s doorway. He’s already open, an older man who had tried his best to ignore your hunger plight often. Many of the wealthier villagers had made the very conscious decision to pretend you didn’t exist.

You can’t blame them. You were a child in need of care and many of them, though richer than you, still struggled to make ends meet. They had no way of caring for a whole other mouth to feed.

He’s working inside, too busy making his living to care that you’re resting on his doorstep.

It takes you fifteen minutes to walk across the village make your purchase with only a somewhat lingering look from the tailor who must be the only one to notice your absence in the village as you’d always been a bit of a pain to.

You had offered to mend clothing at a cheaper cost and so stole most of her mending business.

“Haven’t seen you around here.” She states, wrapping up your new dress and the clothing and shoes you’ve purchased for Steve.

“I’ve been travelling.” You say quickly. Offering no further explanation.

“You look different.” She says, pushing the parcel over the counter towards you.

Fucking Steve.

“Do I?” You take the package and throw a silver pin on the counter worth six times as much as she’s charging you for the clothes.

Her eyes go wide at the sight, but you don’t wait for her to say anything and instead leave as quickly as you entered.

You buy some food from the bake, just something to tide you both over until you can go hunt something up and pay with a small ruby.

You’re gone before he can respond to the payment.

With both errands out of the way, you make your way back towards your cottage, eager to be back by Steve’s side.

Your trek is quick across the barren fields, pace increasing the closer you get.

It’s just beyond this slope, beyond the windmill.

As you curve around it, smile stretching your lips, you gasp as a large stocky man blocks your way.

Your free hand drops to your stomach protectively as your eyes take in the only threat to you in this village.

“Well, hello, hello, hello. If it ain’t tha little mouse.” He says.

As you take in his pale skin, a messy array of vibrant red curls on his head, your mind provides you with several excruciating memories of his large beefy body pinning you against the tavern wall. His hands tearing away at your clothing. Ripping your skin as angry tears stained your cheeks.

Both times you’d been able to fight him off. You’d been lucky.

As he devours you with his eyes, you can see the wheels in his mind turning.

“You’ve been gone a long time, little mouse.” He grins. “I’ve missed you.”

#king!steve x reader #king!steve x you #steve x reader #medieval au #royal au #medieval fantasy au #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x you #avengers x reader #buckynat #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt28

793 notes · View notes

lesetoilesfous · 3 years

Note

Hello and welcome back! Here's a DADWC prompt for you! "Kiss in a dream," with Fenders (please!).

Heeey, thank you so so much!!!! <3 <3 <3 I love writing Fenders!!!!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders

Tags: canon-adjacent, pre-relationship, unrequited longing (that it is in fact requited but he doesn’t know that yet), past abuse

Rating: Mature

This is a terrible idea.

Anders has not been in this particular forest since he was fifteen, running through it barefoot after the thin fabric shoes he’d been given at the Circle had fallen apart in the mud. He hadn’t stopped, heart pounding with the weight of a dozen hounds, breath burning as he heaved it in sobs into and out of his lungs. Anders had only stumbled for long enough to pull the cloth off his feet and run onwards. He’d barely made it to sunrise before the templars had caught him, and by that point his feet were bloody and black with cuts and bruises. He still has the scars of it, not yet at that point proficient enough with healing magic to deal with the injuries before they stuck.

And yet for all of that, it’s one of his most precious memories.

Anders follows the sobbing ghost of his younger self into a familiar clearing, emerald with dewy grass and thick with budded flowers. He watches himself stop, reeling, gangly arms windmilling in the frostbitten air as he sways under the great silver weight of a full moon. It had been years since he had seen the stars.

Anders watches the dusty arc of stardust that crossed the sky like a mighty river reflect in the eyes of his younger self, a child pale as a corpse with barely an echo of the freckles he would one day wear on his skin (as a boast of all the sunlight he had seen). Then his younger self disappears, and Anders finds himself alone in the clearing.

This is a terrible idea.

He sits down on a log, and looks up at the stars, and waits. The wind is chilling, but the cold doesn’t hurt the way it usually does. It’s the Fade, after all. There’s no real cold or warmth here. Anders isn’t sure how long it takes, but eventually, glowing with starlight like the saints of old, Fenris comes out of the trees. Under the moon he’s ethereal, hair silver-white as winter snow, brands glowing a dull, impossibly faint blue like burning lyrium. His dark skin is terribly mortal beside all the magic in him, and somehow more handsome for it. He stumbles forward, feet bare and muddy, and one of his hands comes up to touch Anders’ cheek.

This is a terrible idea.

“Are you well, mage?” Anders thinks about pulling away. He really does. He knows he should. He knows he should leave this particular thicket of memory and the dreams it brought with it, and find some other pocket of the Fade in which to while away the temptations of his demons. But Fenris’ fingers are sword calloused and warm on his cheek, and after a moment his grip tightens, concern clear in the mossy forest green of his eyes. “Anders. Look at me.”

Anders does, and as he does his clothes transform, turning into some practical leathers and travelling armour. He feels new bruises and injuries spreading across his body, and he nods, not entirely sure he’s doing so honestly. “I’m fine. Are you?”

Fenris’ expression softens, and he smiles, leaning forward to press a kiss to Anders’ forehead. “I’m fine. The Templar order has not yet been taught to counter the combat techniques of Seheron.” The pride in Fenris’ voice suggests his disdain that they hadn’t, and Anders hides a smile, standing instead.

“Shall we make camp?”

Fenris hesitates, considering the question seriously. The trees rustle, but there are no beasts. This, Anders thinks, is one of the ways that he knows this isn’t real. For all that his foolish heart might want it to be. After a moment Fenris nods. “We should be safe. Though we should leave at daybreak.”

Anders nods, “Of course.” Whilst he sets about setting up their tent and bedroll, Fenris patrols the perimeter. Satisfied, the elf rejoins him whilst Anders is about to light the fire. Despite himself: despite knowing that this is a dream, and that this apparition will do nothing to contradict him, Anders hesitates, glancing up at Fenris with his hand over the kindling on the bed of rocks he’s built amidst the grass. “May I?”

Fenris smiles at him, gratefully, and Anders tells himself he is not letting his actions be defined by the desires of a dream. He waves a hand, and the fire lights, and Fenris sits beside it stiffly. After a moment Anders joins him, looking over the familiar sight of torn armour and bloody skin. He has healed Fenris a thousand times by now, of all manner of injuries, and he is sure that it is this familiarity that makes these moments feel so real.

Throat thick, Anders raises his hands over Fenris’ injured shoulder. “May I?”

The expression that Fenris gives him then is how Anders knows that it is a dream. Fenris in reality had never looked at him with such honest, unguarded trust (however badly Anders might have found himself longing for it, in recent months.) Fenris nods, “You may.”

Anders smiles at him, and pours his magic into this imaginary Fenris’ wounds, feeling the muscle and sinew stitching themselves back together as blood rushes back into the area. Anders lets his magic wash the pain away and ease the bruising, and after a moment Fenris relaxes. Beside them, the fire spits and pops. Fenris looks at him, and his face is painted gold in the firelight. “Thank you.”

Anders smiles, and shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” He moves to stand, and tells himself it isn’t only to prompt what he knows will happen next. Fenris’ hand, gauntleted and calloused, catches his. Anders jumps at the feeling of metal on his skin, but then Fenris’ warm fingers are closing around his, and he turns to look back down at the elf.

Fenris pulls him down, and Anders bends with a feeling like falling. Fenris’ other hand comes up to gently touch the side of his face, and Anders tries to ignore the way the the steel on his cheek makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It’s easy enough when Fenris meets his eyes, and Anders finds himself falling into the intelligence that lies behind them. “It is not nothing.” Fenris says, softly, insistently. “You are not nothing. Not to me.”

Anders averts his gaze (this is a terrible idea), “Fenris, I -”

But then Fenris tugs at him again, unbalancing him, and there are warm, soft lips on his, and a hand moving into his hair, and Anders feels his eyes flutter shut as he sighs, melting into the kiss. Behind them, the fire cracks, and gold sparks dance up into the faded echo of a midnight sky.

When Anders wakes, he can still taste the kiss on his lips, still feel the tingle of it on his skin. His body is sweating, and his blanket has long since been knotted between his feet. Anders calls fire to his fingers without thinking, lighting the dark as he tries to establish what time of day or night it is. The clinic is silent, and after a long moment there’s only the distant yowl of an angry cat. Anders relaxes, letting the fire go out as he pushes his fingers through his hair, staring at the sudden dark.

Then he swings his legs out of bed, and lights a candle with a gesture of his hand, pulling a shirt over his head as he moves to sit at the upended crate he’d made into a desk beside his pallet of a bed. Dipping his quill into his ink pot, Anders rereads the last page of his manifesto. Maker help him, but he could not go back to sleep.

#dadwc #my fic #contreparry #fenris #anders #fenders #da2

29 notes · View notes

virgil-writes · 3 years

Photo

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

chapter 9 - blood witch of whereverthefuck

SFW, Heisenberg finally bridges the gap. around 3.4K words.

The sun was but a distant sight in the sky when Karl Heisenberg emerged from the depths of his factory, cast iron pot in one hand, cigar in the other. He imagined it was an amusing, yet terrifying view for a passerby, the way the place seemed to be on fire behind him, the weird shine in his eyes through the tinted glasses.

Despite the badassery of the almost action movie worthy scene in his mind, there was an air of domesticity about it all that he did not particularly appreciate, like he was a steel worker bringing his lunch pail home after a long day’s work. Well, he was, in a way, but there would be no wife in a polka dot dress with victory rolls in her hair where he was going. There would be no record player, no brand-new, shiny vacuum bought with much hard work, no red lipstick kisses on his collar when he passed through the door. It would be nothing like the perfect married life he had been sold back before the war, back before he lost everything, even the hopes of getting a shitty wife and a shitty marriage, if the perfect ones weren’t an option.

Well, looking on the bright side, he might not get the wife but he certainly would get the dinner, with none of the weird recipes people came up with back in the day. He could still taste the sugary hell of the jell-o salads garnished with contraband whipped cream that had somehow gone off in transport, the absolutely disgusting texture of the jellied chickens. It was the first thing he had when he arrived back home, the family’s neighbor having invited him over for dinner to celebrate his survival after the brutality of the battles he had seen. It was a joyous moment and they pitied his family, applauded their devotion to the Black God, and so such a generous display of goodwill was the least they could do. They had pulled out all the stops, brought out the good china, went to the Duke in order to illegally get the powder that would be used to create the stuff of nightmares. The entire time he sat at the couch and listened to the lady of the house ramble about how much of a refined woman she was, that this was an American recipe and she had, through resourcefulness alone, managed to get her hands on a copy. The house was too small for him to move over to another room and evade her. He hardly remembered the rest of the night, mind fuzzy with infection and a likely deadly cocktail of experimental medicine, but the taste of sugar had forever attached itself to his memory.

He looked down at the iron pot in his hand with the highest of hopes.

Dusk painted a fascinating picture on the sky, a gradient of red and orange bleeding into the clear blue, the moon rising solemn from somewhere behind the tree line. Heisenberg stopped halfway through as he made across the yard, allowing himself to wallow in the quiet, eyes roaming from the sky to the forest like there was something he sought after. He did not know what he expected, perhaps an unexplainable crimson mist that looked suspiciously like a witch’s hand grabbing a tree trunk, or maybe something as small as a pair or two of glowing eyes staring at him in the distance. Now, he did feel like he was being watched, with special care and attention being devoted to his thighs and ass, but he was aware it was simply because lycans were everywhere and they always went for the juiciest bits.

He took another drag of his cigar as if to end the ritual there, his decennial moment of meditation coming to an end about two or three minutes after it started. He had never been one for standing still and thinking about life for too long. Idle hands and all that. Plus, he had much to do tonight, this very convoluted plan that he had begun concocting after getting to know that amazingly singular woman that had stitched him up in record time. He had considered his options carefully - go through the bridge and up the chalice shaft, past the altar, into the village, out of the village, and into the forest. The exact same path he had taken yesterday, with the same nosy villagers, with the same rat that had scurried back to the castle to give Alcina a report, the same twenty minute trek up ways and byways of the mountain to find the witch’s cottage. Simple, yes, but so very pedestrian, so unfit for his genius. He would rather take the scenic route.

The fence almost seemed to know what was about to happen as he came upon it. A flick of his hand and metal screeched and contorted onto itself, opening a perfect human-sized hole so Heisenberg could walk through and out into the woods behind the factory. He made sure to lock it back up with a well placed car door, some extra twists for good measure. Wouldn’t want rabid lycans giving Miranda information she did not deserve to have.

The woods greeted him like an old friend. It had been far too long since he had taken the now almost hidden path, visible only to the trained eye of someone who had walked it a thousand times over. He hadn’t brought the hammer, confident that their dealings had been amicable enough despite him having lost his temper, a single knife tucked away inside his inner coat pocket, though it was not meant to be used - at least not by him. He had never been one for forests, much preferred the comfort of metal and steam, but the emptiness of the land was a comforting sight. Some minutes of snow crunching under his boots later and he could see it in the distance, the porch covered in dirt and piles upon piles of pine branches, the shingled roof almost invisible amid the white of the landscape. The glass panes of the windows had broken long ago, the front door hanging on a single hinge, wooden boards pulling apart and away from the skeleton, rusty nails spilling out like the shack oozed under the abuse of time.

Heisenberg was far from interested in taking a peek inside. Instead he made for the edge of the canyon, where the river roared beneath him, cutting its way through the mountains, molding the stone with an unrelenting chisel. Not too far from him the suspension bridge swayed in tandem with the wind, rickety planks whining with every movement. He peered down after the first step, the creaking of wood promising a swift fall, the water below a monster waiting to swallow him. Only his freshwater Charybdis would most likely be Moreau, and he would very much prefer not being covered in disgusting green goo.

This would have been much easier if he had taken a leaf of steel, a chunk of iron; anything, really, to secure his steps and shield him from an untimely dip into ice. He walked with confidence, as if the bridge cared any for his belief that it would hold, and the cross felt like it took hours, relief washing over him when his feet finally touched solid land.

For a moment, Heisenberg wondered if he had taken the wrong turn and entered the wrong forest, if he had crossed the wrong bridge or passed through a portal to another world. The brush was no longer quiet, vibrant and full of life tonight, as much as the bleakness of winter would allow it; crickets, ravens returning to their roosts, hares out and about, even the odd lycan shyly watching him from behind a bush, too far from its pack and stronghold to have any edge in a fight. It was as if the fog had ceased to exist overnight, the witch’s sinister curse lifted as if this corner of the world was much too far from her domain. And perhaps it was, the backwoods ingrained in the locals’ collective memory as a place rife with spirits that wouldn’t rest, cave complexes that took nowhere, dens of boars and bears and wolves and all manner of things that would not hesitate to end a poor unfortunate soul’s life. He knew of a collapsed mine somewhere near, an escape route dug underground by the forefathers of his forefathers, before Miranda, before his lineage was cast down and stripped of rank.

Heisenberg recognized the hill that hid her cabin, like a hand that shot up from the ground to cup the house like one would hold a precious memento. He barely spotted the narrow path that went up and around it, a mite-eaten, ancient wooden post the only evidence of the fence that once stood there. He saw the smoke before he came upon the house, a strange sight from this angle, a large pile of firewood lined up against the kitchen window, flint axe resting against it. The clothesline than ran from the roof to a hook carved into the mountain stood empty, no doubt because of the heavy blizzards that had hit them recently, and a row of parallel wooden boxes covered with a good foot of snow called his attention, took up most of the space behind the shack. Figured that the witch in the woods would have a garden all year round.

He circled around to find her crouched, close to the tiny goat that had taken a liking to him the day before, petting its head affectionately, talking to it like one would to a child. She spoke as if the animal could understand her, invited it to go back into its coop with its mother, to have a nice, delicious dinner and enjoy a good night’s sleep. The goat bleated as if it understood, followed her into the pen like a dog follows its master. If she could talk to animals, that would seriously be the last fucking straw.

The actual dog was the first to spot him, sitting at the entrance to the porch, watching over their land through the curtain of hair that covered its eyes. The mutt stood to attention at the sight of him, ears perking up slightly, a huff pushed through its teeth, snarl starting to bubble within its stomach. He saw the witch straighten up her back at the sound, head turned slightly towards the guard dog as she listened intently. She returned to her chores when Heisenberg did not move and the sheepdog deemed him a safe intrusion.

“Good evening, darling,” he hollered, genuinely happy to see her, making her jump at the sound, a startled gasp escaping her lips. Her hands momentarily lost control and dropped the bucket of feed she carried. The grain spilled everywhere, chickens running amok trying to catch every kernel, and he could not help but laugh at the way her shoulders slumped and she sighed. Her hand came up to rest at her breast, near her heart, and she turned to face him with the most adorable, indignant expression.

It struck him that she looked even more beautiful here, away from the darkness of her cabin, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, amber eyes shining almost a golden hue. Her features looked to have been sculpted with great care and concern, no detail left to chance; rounded eyes that spoke of innocence with an edge of mystery at the corners, well-defined lips that could curve into the most wicked of smiles, aquiline nose that gave her the semblance of some noble of a bygone era. Her eyebrows had just the right arch to them to make her friendly but give her an edge, and he was convinced she had to be the most expressive person he had ever met.

She stared daggers at him, brow furrowed, the sketch of a pout on her lips. Her hands came to rest on her hips and she puffed, as if wanting an explanation, an apology for the sudden intrusion. She would get neither. Her chest heaved still from fright, that delicate bosom that haunted his thoughts unfortunately covered by a thick charcoal-colored shawl. She wore a dress today, much to his delight and dismay. The embroidered shirt fit loosely around her waist, called attention to threaded relief; the skirt was placed too high on her hips to give her body any definition. The burgundy dress she wore now hugged her form beautifully, laces tied into a bow just below her waist. It was an invitation, almost, the way that he could take but a few steps forward and tug at the ends of it, watch as the fabric parted to reveal the soft flesh underneath. But this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? There is no doubt in his mind that every move of hers is meant to distract him, to lure him in like before. Sneaky little snake she was, dangerous but enticing.

“Good evening, Lord Heisenberg.” The witch greeted him at last, her expression softened. She, too, seemed glad to see him despite the mischief, a notion that both puzzled and pleased him more than he cared to admit. He could not remember the last time someone had smiled at his arrival, had shown him anything akin to a warm welcome. It puzzled him - they had met a day ago, under strange circumstances and stranger dynamic. But there was no denying the warm, fuzzy feeling in his heart, so foreign after decades of isolation, at the thought that they seemed to click perfectly, like their alliance, their friendship, was but a natural step in the course of their lives. He would never admit it, not under torture nor inebriated after a dozen drinks, that the prospect of not being so alone was almost as exciting as his plans to decimate his family.

He noticed how she seemed to stare beyond him, over his shoulder and through into the forest, eyes averting to the footprints on the snow to figure out just where he had come from. No doubt she would secure the way after he left, maybe cut the ropes on the bridge for good measure. It’s what he would do, anyway.

She soon busied herself again, bent down to pick up the bucket, turned around and walked to a wooden shed with its door ajar, lantern light shining bright to help her navigate the room. He followed, both her actions and her silence, and found that all manner of tools and bins were organized on shelves and boxes. It amused, but did not surprise him, to see that every last tool in her shed was made of bone, wood, stone or a combination of those. The shovel looked like an ox’s shoulder blade, the hay rake was made of nothing but wood and twine. A spear for fishing with flint for a tip, traps for fish and snares for game, a carved unstrung bow and a basket full of wooden arrows. Forget the rudimentary lifestyle of the village - she was positively prehistoric.

She refilled the bucket and went back outside, didn’t meet his eyes as she did, promptly taking the feed to the horse - the real, flesh and blood horse. It was as tall as she was, but its frame was massive. A work horse, undoubtedly, well built and taken care of. The red coat glistened against the lantern light, mane black as coal, and the eyes of a creature who had been through some shit. It nuzzled its snout against her hand as she sang its praises and a whole lot of gibberish about how cute it was. “If I may be so bold as to ask, were you sneaking behind my humble abode, my lord?”

“The bridge is still standing,” he shrugged and she nodded, her curiosity sated. “This was all ours once, you know.” Ours, he ruminated, glancing over the tree line. His family’s, the land where the factory was built and the land around it, her little hideaway included. It was theirs because no one else dared tread it, the frontier between civilization and the deep wilderness of the mountains. They were hardy of constitution and stoic in their beliefs, the perfect guardians of their haven and way of life. Father always spoke proudly of it, of how House Heisenberg had defended their home for generations. To think that he was now an eccentric recluse with no family to speak of or future in sight always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Why yes, the lord and lady Heisenberg were ever so kind to allow us to live and care for this neck of the woods.” She spoke as if she knew them, as if she had spoken to them on occasion. His parents had never been the chatty kind, a characteristic he did not seem to inherit. They were proud and wary of strangers; he could not picture his parents giving away a chunk of land to a miserable family of no title or influence. And yet he could hear the smile in her voice, like she had recalled wonderful memories. Still she did not face him, closing up the animal pens for the night, fluffing up the hay for the animal’s bedding, bolting doors shut.

“The lord and lady Heisenberg have been dead for almost 90 years, buttercup. You alright in the head?” He let out a laugh alongside a puff of smoke from his cigar. What was her game?

“Indeed, a true tragedy, that.” There was sadness in the way she spoke, in the way her voice lowered as she continued. “Lady Kora would not let me near her,” the story was foreign to him, but the mention of the name lit something within - not a comfortable warmth, not a hint of nostalgia, but the sort of panic that destroys everything in its path. “I told her it was of no issue to me, but she would not hear it. She was worried that I, too, would come down with fever. I was much too young then, she said, such a bright future ahead.” Her sigh was not one of contentment but of grief. “I could have healed her.” She murmured at last, turned and held his gaze, a thousand apologies in her eyes, as if it had been her fault that he had never come to know his grandmother. He had her name and a portrait, a locket that had long belonged to her and the stories his mother told him. Father would not speak of her, having never recovered from the grief of losing her so young. She had died of smallpox, he had heard, when the virus swept across the village and left many graves in its path.

“You sure know your history,” he meant to chuckle nonchalantly, but instead grimaced, deeply uncomfortable with the idea that perhaps he had come across an immortal being that knew far too much, as absurd as it all sounded. “Very creative, too.” She seemed offended at the implication, chest puffed and mouth agape to answer him. He cut her off before she could scare him any further with her intricate web of lies. “It got a name?” Heisenberg pointed at the horse, and the beast eyed him warily as he approached, pawing at the ground when he was close enough to touch.

“Sir Bernhard von Rothenberg,” she announced proudly, outrage forgotten - at least for now. “My friend and guardian.” The hardy bear of the red mountain. For some reason, the absurdity of the name did not surprise him. To be fair, the horse looked like it would square up and try his best to kill him if pressed. Still, the thought of a woman rumored to be powerful referring to an animal as her guardian brought a laugh to his lips.

“And what about you, darling?” That was the burning question, was it not? Who was she, this woman so tightly wound up in mystery, who seemed to know too much and yet have lived too little, tucked away in her rickety shack with nary a hint of modernity in her accommodations and mannerisms. The question seemed to offend her, but most of all confuse her.

“You, my lord, may call me,” she began, voice lathered in drama, a perfectly polite curtsy as she spoke. “The Blood Witch of Whereverthefuck.”

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #virgil writes

4 notes · View notes

eleanor-devil · 3 years

Text

Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.8 - Saving Someone Precious

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05

He was getting worried by now. When Isis came to the hideout about an hour ago, he wasn't really pleased - first because Isis said Mitsuki had decided to leave Konoha for some reason, and second because... the child had practically called himself to his feet. He had considered not going at all - until Juugo said he could go in his stead. He was not having that. "How long until we arrive?" he asked. The snake had herself coiled around his neck. "Not far from here. His chakra is unstable though. I don't know why." Why would that be the case? His boy had excellent chakra control, thanks to how he was made and years of training. Something was wrong... Suddenly, Isis hissed in recognition. "Orochimaru-sama!"

The sannin saw what the snake's eyes already caught. A small, white rattlesnake, sliding on the ground towards them. "Koburo!" he exclaimed as he recognized his son's pet snake. The snake stopped in front of them and rose to its full height, hissing non-stop. The female snake immediately replied to him, and it was all it took Orochimaru to wait until they were finished. "This is not good..." said Isis finally. Thank you for stating the obvious, he almost said, but he had no patience. "What is it?" "Koburo says Mitsuki-sama was attacked by a group of ninjas... He tried to stop him, but when that didn't work, he rushed as quickly as he could to find us..." Orochimaru had only listened to half of what she said. "Lead the way, Isis!" And they were off again. He was trying to focus on just finding his son, but it was hard. Why was he attacked? How bad was the situation? And most importantly... Why did he leave the village at the dead of night in the first place? He reached the end of the river pretty quickly, that was where they were supposed to meet... He turned around himself, teeth gritted. "Where to?" "His chakra is getting weaker, he's in the woods away from the river... I'm sure-" Then there was a poof sound and the man felt the weight on his shoulders suddenly being completely lifted. He stopped dead in his tracks, his mind racing, his eyes widening. “What is that child doing…?” Isis disappearing could only mean one thing. Mitsuki was too weak to keep the connection. He simply refused to think of another possibility. He would not let some sort of low specimen take his masterpiece away from him. Anyone who even thought about hurting his boy... would pay dearly... The only problem was... now he had no leads on the child. Isis could sense his chakra... With her out of the picture, the most he could do was to follow the sounds of a fight... which was another problem, seeing that there was none. How was that even possible? There was a warm, healthy breeze in the spring night, and air dispersed sound... It was logically impossible that he would not hear a battle going on. Unless... The sannin gritted his teeth. He had never, ever let emotions control him before. He would not allow such a thing to happen now. Something on the forest floor near the river then caught his eyes and he stopped just for a minute to check. Blood...? Without the moon, there was not enough light, but he was positive that it was blood. He was becoming really, really unsettled now - how was he to find Mitsuki? He checked around to see if there were any leading trails... But after a few steps, they had stopped... Was the boy taken to somewhere else? His blood ran cold. He ran to the tree where he could last follow the trail... “The hell are you doing Suzume?! Finish him!” Finally getting what he had been waiting for, he jumped on the tree to get a bird's eye view. Before he did that, though, he noticed more blood stains on the branch he landed... "This vermin seriously grates on my nerves. Hiraku, I have a job for you.” With the words, he turned to face the direction they came from. He noticed a couple of things all at once, and his pulse quickened. There were two men apparently arguing, one heaped on the ground and the other... There was no mistaking the tousled white-blue hair. It was his son... His hair, his clothing... What did not belong to him here was, the sannin realized as he took in the scene... blood, lots and lots of blood from the wounds across his body, and pooling underneath him... For a moment, he could see nothing but a dark red haze in front of his eyes... Mitsuki was... badly injured...? And those scoundrels were just standing above him, while he lay broken on the ground...? They were not dead, not chopped to pieces, not begging for their wretched lives...? He felt something crunch as his hand balled into a fist and although it was hard, he peeled his eyes away from Mitsuki to take a look around, see if there was any other low life. He noticed a barely conscious man not too far away, and a movement drew his gaze to another with... only his head on the ground. That seemed like Mitsuki’s work... "I want the boy's head." Instinct - instinct for blood - took over and Orochimaru jumped from the tree he was standing on - leaving a big, hand-sized crush on its side. ... Goro approached the boy and stood there for a minute, looking at the boy with a soulless gaze. It wasn't his fault the boy attacked them. The damned brat had caused them to lose at least a third of their chakra - and they were supposed to go after the Hokage - now they had no chance at all. He was going to pay. He would make sure they wouldn't return empty-handed. Just when he raised the sword and swung it however... The unconscious boy was no longer there. He didn't even see anything. "What the hell...?" "You want his head?" came a booming voice from seemingly nowhere. Goro, and Hiraku behind him, looked around to pinpoint the source. "I shall give you one!" Then there was a mighty explosion, enough to shake the forest from its roots. ...and out of the explosion rolled a mahogany-haired head... Their comrade, Hideyoshi's lifeless eyes stared at them from the ground... ... Naruto had barely had enough time to activate his shield a nano-second before the explosion - thankfully covering everyone. As the sound of the blast died down, Boruto and Sarada's eyes widened. Their scream rang in the night as sounds of a fight could be heard from somewhere very close. "MITSUKI!!!" ... As the brunt of the blast started to fade away, Orochimaru straightened himself from the position he was in, leaning completely over his son to protect him from the explosion. He took one lingering look at him before gently lowering him to the ground, as if afraid to break him even more... which, if he had to be honest, he was. "You just hang in there for a minute, child," he whispered, though he did not know how Mitsuki could hear him. ... The two cloud ninjas had barely enough time to cover themselves - and recover from the shock of seeing Hideyoshi's disembodied head... Suddenly, a vicious shuriken attack came from behind the flames, and being caught unprepared, Hiraku felt the blades piercing his skin, although not enough to kill, and pinning him to the tree behind him. Goro took out a kunai and threw it blindly towards the flames, just in an attempt to slow down whoever was coming from in between, only a tall silhouette visible. Then he activated the lightning blade once again... Orochimaru stepped out from the flames, his eyes burning, his blood boiling with bloodlust. He took in the expression of the bastard who ordered for Mitsuki's head... How his furious and aggressive demeanor faltered and changed rapidly into one that of panic and desperation. Of course... every ninja in this wretched world knew about his reputation. "What's the matter… not so brave now?" the sannin hissed through his teeth as he bit his finger, allowing a drip of blood to ooze from the cut. "Not the same as going against a child… my child, is it?" The blond's eyes widened when he heard that. Out of all the people that could find them... They fought the son of one of the most feared creatures in the world...? 'Holy shit...' he thought as his hand with the blade started dropping to his side. Then he turned and tried to run. "Kuchiyose no jutsu!" Three large snakes erupted from the ground and immediately surrounded the man, hissing and snapping at him. "Where do you think you are going? We just began!" And with that, Orochimaru leapt forward. ... The signs of the battle were making themselves more and more clear as they approached a certain place in the forest. They had known they were close when they found Mitsuki's belongings and his traveling cloak all abandoned behind a tree. It didn’t take them too long to reach the scene, thankfully, but Konohamaru couldn’t shake off the sick feeling that they were late… he could only hope that they weren’t too late. “Keep your head cool, don’t engage, just find Mitsuki!” he called out to his team - and just in that moment, his eyes detected movement. Lightning fast, him and the Hokage sprang in action. Naruto jumped and blocked the path of the man who was trying to make a run for it, his teeth clenched. “Not so fast.” Konohamaru was a little disappointed that the man he had to find was already immobilized against a tree, oh, he could do with a fight… “Don’t try anything funny.” he pretty much growled. … There was a fight going on... They didn't know how many enemies there were... But none of that mattered to Boruto right then as he was frantically looking for his best friend. The snake that was still coiled on his arm had gone silent and… very still a couple of minutes ago, sending an ominous shiver down his spine… it was the only connection to his friend, and losing it could only mean that they needed to find him as soon as possible. "Mitsuki!" he called desperately, turning around himself, eyes searching everywhere. Cold dread gripped his heart, and his breath came out hitched. Where was he?? "B... Boruto..." he heard Sarada choke out, her voice barely above a whisper, and he followed her gaze... His eyes widened as his heart almost came to a stop at the sight in front of them. A scene that was right out of a horror movie... His friend... Broken, blood covered and unmoving... right in front of them... ... The sannin watched with great satisfaction as his enemy scarpered away for him - tried to, at the very least. Orochimaru was toying with him, making him think that he could escape... but of course he was not going to allow him to escape. No, he was going to enjoy each and every moment of causing this poor excuse of a human being agony. Goro slashed at the snakes with his blade, but they were quick, easily dodging it. He was getting weaker... Keeping the blade on required a lot of chakra, and he had already lost quite a lot in the fight. Gritting his teeth, he threw the blade away and took a kunai out - he had to bail out of here, and for that he needed his strength. He- Suddenly, Orochimaru jumped right in front of him, out of nowhere, and before he knew, the blond took a strong kick to his chest, forcing him to fly backwards and landing hard on the ground, the kunai in his hand flying to the other side. Before he could even get up, he felt something crawling up his wrists, armpits, knees and feet... The snakes all hissed at him, baring their fangs, their tiny pupils seemingly reflecting hatred... He raised his head a little and met a pair of golden, serpent-like eyes, glaring at him with such a cold expression that he felt his blood freeze. The snakes tightened around his limbs, and a pain-filled moan escaped his mouth despite himself. "Does it hurt?" Orochimaru hissed, squinting. "Is it even remotely close to what you did to my son?" "We didn't attack the child!" Goro yelled. "We just defended ourselves!" The frown deepened more, and the snakes tightened more, too, so much so that he began feeling numb. "Consider this self-defense, you worthless scoundrel." Raising its head, the snake on his right armpit dug its fangs deep into his arm - so deep it almost reached the bone. The man let out a cry, his body jerking. "Holy... shit... Stop..." The sannin came to kneel beside the man, grabbing his head roughly and pushing it back, looking in his eyes with a hellish fury. "Try to have some dignity, scum! You are not dead... No, not yet, I guarantee you that it's not gonna be easy... But you are paralyzed. You will be unable to move, unable to scream." His eyes glinted maliciously. "Allow me to see how you will like it... Where would you want me to start?" ... “I surrender! Please…!” Whatever Konohamaru expected, it wasn’t this. “You… what??” “I surrender!” Hiraku repeated urgently, almost a frantic look in his eyes. “Please… do you know medical jutsu? You have to check on the boy, I’m not gonna try to escape!” The Sarutobi didn’t even have time to process this or let panic settle in because just then, he heard the screams of two of his students. … "MITSUKI!!!" Sarada and Boruto both yelled, finally snapping out of their shocked stupor. They both leapt forward, almost tripping on their own feet in their haste. There was no reply. Boruto felt his pulse quickening as he fell to his knees beside his friend, and he gasped at the full-on sight. The younger boy was lying in a pool of his own blood - a huge pool at that, and the wounds on his chest and stomach were still bleeding. "Oh god..." Sarada whispered in a shaky voice. She grabbed Mitsuki's hand, putting two fingers on his inner wrist. "I... I can't..." she mumbled, tears filling into her eyes. "B... Boruto, turn him over gently, I need to listen to his heart." "W... wha... He doesn't..." Boruto whispered weakly, gathering his friend gently in his arms. The way in which Mitsuki's head listed limply to one side scared the living out of him. As Sarada laid her head on Mitsuki's chest, he lightly slapped his friend's cheeks. "M... Mitsuki... H-hey... Can you hear me? Answer me..." His voice broke. "Please...?" But no reaction came from the boy, his eyes remained shut as the trail of blood running down his mouth and the horrific wounds gave Boruto a twist in the stomach... not even when Momoshiki and Kinshiki attacked the village had he seen this much blood at the same time... Trying to hold back whatever was trying to make its way up his throat, Boruto kept shaking his friend gently. "Come on... M-Mitsuki... say something..." Sarada was growing desperate... Why couldn't she hear anything...? Her hand grabbed Mitsuki's clothing as she felt a coldness spreading through her body. He... couldn't be... right...? A slow, dull thump reached her ears then, and her eyes went wide. "He's with us..." she whispered, straightening up and once again taking in the terrifying sight of her friend. "Why did this happen to him...?" she mused, unable to believe this was real, and her hand balled into a fist once again as she made a quick calculation in her head. Then she looked at Boruto. "Boruto, hold him as still as you can." she said firmly, and the blond only then realized that he was shaking - badly. As he tried to get a hold of himself, Sarada completed the hand seals she had learned from her mother, and held her hands over Mitsuki's body. "Kyuukyuu no jutsu," she whispered, and felt her chakra flowing, raising a dull green aura around the blue haired boy. It took a while and although it seemed like forever to Boruto and Sarada, the reaction they so wished happened. Mitsuki, still without opening his eyes, began coughing and gasping for air. "Thank God," Boruto mused, so relieved that tears almost fell to his cheeks, but he managed to get a hold of himself. This was not the time. "Mitsuki..." he called to his friend once again as he grabbed the younger boy's chin and turned his head to him gently. He very nearly sagged when he saw a flicker of gold. "B... Boruto..." Mitsuki whispered weakly, and the blond had to lean over a bit. The blue haired boy then turned his head a little. "Sarada..." The girl gave a shaky smile at that as tears brimmed her eyes. "You came..." Mitsuki mumbled, and Boruto saw a lone tear rolling down his cheek. "Of course we came, you baka, did you really think we’d let you go like this?" It was just then that Konohamaru reached the kids. He came to a halt, frozen on the spot as he took in the scene. It felt like all sound and air had been drained from where he stood as he watched with bated breath Boruto and Sarada… His mind had become sluggish all of a sudden for some reason. He was having trouble truly processing what was happening in front of him. Of course, he had told his two students to find their teammate… but… surely they haven’t found him yet, this broken figure couldn’t be him… His heart skipped a beat as finally, the two seemed to be able to reach Mitsuki. Konohamaru let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he rushed to the kids. The boy’s eyes turned slowly to him. “Konohamaru-sensei…” The jounin was on his knees the next second, assessing the situation closer… God… “Don’t talk, reserve your strength.” His voice came just a little tense and harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. He was worried beyond words and… if Mitsuki did what he thought he did… As always, though, even in this condition, the boy was attentive. “Sensei… I- don’t-” he couldn’t finish his words as a hiss of pain escaped his mouth. Sarada winced. “I- I’m sorry,” she stammered in a shaky voice, tears in her eyes. “I… I wish mama was here… This doesn’t work, I’m not good at all!” “It’s… alright… Sarada…” Mitsuki said weakly, and Sarada’s eyes widened, her hands shaking even more. “I… feel better… already…” “Sssh…” their sensei warned him, his look as well as his tone softening, he didn’t trust his voice to say anything more. Boruto couldn't take his eyes away from his friend. "You... you idiot... You just hang in there, do you hear me?" He felt his friend weakly squeezing his hand, and tightened his hold only slightly. "How... how stupid could you be? Why would you do this to us, you damn jerk?! I'll never forgive you for this! Leaving the village without even saying goodbye... How dare you even think you could leave the village, anyway? Huh? Who gave you the right to do that? We certainly didn't!" "Boruto," Konohamaru’s tone was gentle but firm. “That’ll be enough.” "No, y'know what, let's hear it from him!" the blond snapped, trying to hold back angry tears. It wasn't just out of the need to let it out that he was doing this, as much as he didn't want to show it, he was afraid. He was really, terribly afraid that if he didn't keep talking, he would lose his best friend. He glanced once more at him, and felt his pulse quickening when he saw Mitsuki's eyes almost closed. "No, no, no!" he cried out, holding his friend's head, trying to be gentle in his panic. "You're not fading out on us! Keep your eyes open! Keep your eyes open or I swear I'll kick your sorry ass to oblivion, do you understand?" His eyes burned as the tears threatened to fall, and he gulped hard to force them back. "Remember our promise!" he yelled, his voice breaking at the end. Mitsuki blinked once, trying to focus on him. He tried to lift his left hand, reaching for his friend, and Boruto held onto it as if for dear life. "I... remember..." Mitsuki whispered, squeezing his hand ever so lightly. "Good for you," the blond said as a lone tear escaped from his eyes. ... Naruto was quick to take over the guy he was facing, he had managed to knock down the brunet. He had heard his son's and Sarada's screams earlier but in order to not lose focus, he hadn't looked in their direction. But now... He gasped at the horrible sight of Mitsuki badly injured, he could tell that the boy was literally fighting to stay awake... "Oh god... Mitsuki!" He made a run to get to them... ...and then Orochimaru leapt in front of him from out of nowhere, drenched in blood and with a very dangerous look on his face. "Do not..." the sannin began, and his heated voice was more like a hissing than anything. "...dare approach my son."

#boruto:sacrifices #boruto #naruto #mitsuki #sarada #boruto fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #tw:blood

6 notes · View notes

shortredselfships · 3 years

Text

Is That a Threat?

Warning: There is implied child abuse, hints of violence, and suicidal/negative thoughts/ideation so if it ain't your thing, don't read it!

Nothing seemed to be going right for Mehra and if she were back home, there is no doubt her parents or her employer would call her something harsh. Maybe hit her for being so clumsy and stupid. And she would have deserved it.

First she had overslept, leaving Nader- no Nardel (she still thinks it's a stupid name and people are just biding their time, there is no way in hell they are this stupid, Claude-)- to handle inventory reports given by houses Ordelia, Edmund, Daphnel, Albrecht and a few others she couldn't think of at the moment. In being late to do that, she would have to make it up to him. Not only that, but Nebula missed out on his lunch and bonding time with her since she was unable to get him enough time in the forests to hunt because that's when the Immortal Corps did flight runs and they don't need a hungry white wyvern distracting them. Fortunately, Claude handled that, according to Nardel.

To make matters worse, she tripped grabbing materials for the next Alliance roundtable, getting some very precious books scuffed in the process.

Useless girl like you is better off dead, she could hear someone say. At twenty-one years old, this level of forgetfulness was simply unacceptable, especially with the war going on. One misstep and the Empire could be knocking on their door any minute.

The whole point of her leaving Almyra to help Claude was so that he wouldn't be so stressed doing it all on his own, not make his job worse.

"Maera?" Nardel's voice cut through the angry tide her thoughts had become, and she held the now slightly damaged books closer to her chest. "Master Claude wants to see you."

"Oh. Did he say why?"

"No idea. I can take those-"

"No, no, let me. You've done enough for me for today." Nardel gave her a look of concern before going on to continue with his day.

Claude was hidden beneath stacks of books, making her wonder if her hunch was wrong. "Claude?"

"Yes?" Oh. There was a tone to that. He's probably in a very bad mood. "Maera?" His head looked small peeking out from all the work and if she didn't think he was angry with her, she'd laugh at the imagery. Talk about being buried under paperwork. "I see Nardel managed to find you. And you got those books I asked for?"

"Mhmm."

"Just put them on that end table to your left." He doesn't sound as irritated as when she first stepped in the office, but it was common for authority to mask their irritation long enough for their target to get close. Claude may be one of her best friends, but he was still her former house leader, now her duke and prince. If he wanted to punish her for any little misstep, he was well within his right to do so, crest or no crest. "And can you make sure the door is locked?"

He's going to hurt me. He's going to beat me senseless for all my blunders today and toss me out by my hair, then beat me again when he sees the state those books are in. Where is my dagger? No wait-

"Earth to Maera?" Maera didn't mean to jump like she did, nor flinch, but she did, and now she has another thing to envision her beating herself for. Claude's expression softened. "Is everything ok? You've been acting weird all day."

"I am weird. Your point?" Whatever softness was there disappeared quickly as his gaze hardened. He didn't look like a tired, overworked twenty-one year old even if the dark circles and scruff said otherwise.

"Weird is preferring Derdriu's Mystery Seafood Boil over fried pheasant. Weird is thinking plain lip balm tastes good. Weird is brushing your teeth immediately before eating breakfast." He grips her shoulders, and it hurts. It hurts and it takes more strength not to react than it would to push him off. Not that she should or could in the rare moment he got like this. But it wasn't towards her before. "What isn't weird, is saying you deserve to die because you're having an off day!" How did he even know she was thinking that?

"Claude, I am twenty-one years old, not twelve. These are rookie mistakes and those can cost us! I don't want my forgetfulness to launch us further into a war you aren't ready for! I came to help you, not make things worse!" Now he was shaking her.

"I- Are you insane?! We've had this discussion before!" Ah yes, when he threatened to kiss her for insulting herself back during their Academy days, then making good on that threat about a year ago. "You're not expendable, you know!" She should, but she doesn't think she matters unless she is being useful. Sleeping in is to be useless. Forgetting to feed the wyvern you both are raising is to be useless.

"..." There were no words to said, but Claude's grip was starting to really hurt, and she can feel her fingers getting tingly and weak. Before she can comment, his grip loosens and he runs a hand through his hair. "Cla-Kha-..." There is so much she wants to tell him but the boulder in her throat makes it impossible to speak.

"You have got to stop thinking this way or-" Maera's sarcasm couldn't be held back anymore.

"What, you'll kiss me again?"

"No, worse: I'll marry you!" Maera stared at him in utter disbelief. If he was serious about marrying her, that seemed less like a punishment and more of a twisted reward. Unless he meant he wanted to have sex with her until those bad thoughts went away. Which still seemed more like an reward than punishment.

"That seems like an excuse to kiss me, anyway! You might as well become my boyfriend if that's the case!"

"But I don't-"

"Oh, so now you don't want to take responsibility for what you just said?" She's teasing now. "Claude von Reigan, you scoundrel." What looked to be another retort morphed into a sly smile.

"Ahh, no, you're trying to get me. I'm onto you." He does reach out and pull her into a hug. "But seriously though, please don't do that again. Teach would hate it if you didn't make it.." And many others. Maera returns the hug, but now her cheeks are tear-stained.

"I know. I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'll try to do better." After a beat, she looks up at Claude, but she can't see his face.

"Please don't make me think of a life without you in it. Please..."

#self ship #red writes #star seeker; claude #fe maera

5 notes · View notes

demonprosecutor · 3 years

Text

OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS... YOU KNOW THE SONG.

innocence, like all things, succumbs to the touch of death and time - both in conjunction and never not coexisting with each other. it was a difficult pill to swallow at times, but the naivety of childhood could never weather the storm that the real world presented. a sad notion, but a necessary one. your thighs had ached and chafed with the hours of riding upon amydros - you had never ridden this far nor this long without rest. “alright, let’s rest.” you say aloud, pulling on the reins until the horse trots to a stop, towards a bend in the path where you slid down its back, and tied the leather strips around a sturdy branch.

even if winter had always made you nervous on principle (you’ve heard stories of bodies contorted in the throes of winter as lord thanatos had claimed their souls, or of crops failing and leaving a town starving for the next spring), you find relief of the cold on your aching muscles, a brief respite really. By then, your anger had cooled and subdued into a faint irritation. You were never someone who could hold their anger for a sustained amount of time without being weary.

with the edge of the cloak, you brush off gently-fallen snow off of the surface of the flattest rock you could find there, and carefully made sure that the cloak was at your bottom before sitting down. you had always taken your oaths seriously, always taken the truth seriously, but now? amid the snowy emptiness, placing yourself at the forefront of your secret fears of having to traverse the outside world without a safety tether was frightening.

maybe zagreus thought that your inherent fears would force you to remain in the town? that hypothesis makes you flush with indignation, crumpling the cloak between your hands. how dare he?! you weren’t... some... some civilian in distress that needed saving, you were an independent person capable of holding their own in any scenario.

“maybe lord hermes could glean more answers?” despite the distance between the two towns, you found that they held a camaraderie with each other that resulted in frequent trade during the warmer months and therefore, you had managed to catch the information that there was a rather robust temple dedicated to lord hermes. it makes sense, traveller towns tended to venerate that god above all else, well, the aspect of travelling at least. amydros nickers quietly, ears flicking.

“at least you listen.” you stand up before the chill could seep through clothing and onto skin, walking over to stroke the strong flank of your horse. “zagreus never bothered to listen. always talking, always stumbling through conversation like a newborn fawn...” your hands curl into fists, pressed against the warm fur. “--- but he was always so kind.” zagreus’ warm smile came to the forefront of your mind, mismatched eyes twinkling like stars. “always made me feel like i was... like i was an equal.”

by then, a flush rises to your cheeks. “and he is, erm, handsome... and sweet and endearing. like a puppy!” a look up and you see amydros leveling a rather judgemental look. as if to say: really? you were angry at him and now... you’re gushing about him

you slap your cheeks hard enough for it to sting, shaking your head. That was... a moment of weakness! you were still incredibly angry with him and you were going to give him a piece of your mind. Once you saw him. Then you’d hug him tightly because you were worried. zagreus did not know how terrible mortals could be, and you’d feel a lot better with him around.

you are alone....

amydros, to the horse’s credit, does not rear back in alarm at the voice that echoed around the clearing. too much like anura, you hold your steed’s reins close, heart thundering to the beat of amydros’ panicked breathing. even then, the most prominent thought that manages to sluice through the anxiety was: again?!

a nearby tree creaks, a mighty oak standing tall and bereft of its leaves, yet it shifts - the whorls on its trunk shifting into the closest approximation of a face. a dryad, an ancient, prideful one, if you had to guess. but most of all, something within your chest eases gently, unfurling like the drying wings of a butterfly. as though you were a child that had roused from a nightmare and found solace in their parent’s arms. they were good. above all, this dryad was a kind one, you could tell.

the stiffness of your shoulders lowers slightly, the smile upon your lips warm and assured. “gentle dryad, it is... wonderful to see you in spite of this bitter winter.” you never forget your manners and rifle through your bag, extracting a slice of bread that was given by menelaia before you left, and held it out - an offering to a near-god.

the dryad shifted its eyes to peer at the bread before the trunk cracks open with a thunderous sound, a gnarled wooden arm unfolding from the depths of the tree like an insect leg that carefully plucks the offering from your hand and returns. the air warms briefly, a signifier of its delight, its ineffable gratitude at recognition. nowadays, people forgot to thank the everyday spirits that resided in this world, ones that aided the gods and kept the earth and oceans as verdant and thriving as it was. “thank you, sapling.” it speaks in an ancient tongue, one that you should not understand, but with the magic of the divine, you were able to. a language so ancient, and so lost, it made your bones shudder at its strangeness. “you seek someone.”

you nod, eyes downcast. “yes.”

“a precious someone.” they say gently, a rumble of thunder in the distance, and you cannot help the aching smile on your face. “someone you care and adore.” they unfurl your heartstrings and read between the lines like the ancient rings of its home. wise because of its years and kinder because of it.

“yes. how did you know?” sometimes things weren’t meant to be asked, but you couldn’t help questioning this matter of mind-reading. “is it that obvious?”

a branch creaks downwards, a lone green leaf brushing over your hair, “love is the easiest to see, always so bright and vibrant. yet...” it brushes away a tear at the corner of your eye. “you are filled with such a terrible sadness, sapling.”

and you chuckle at that, tilting your head, “since when is that a new thing? are not all living things with terrible sadnesses?” you grab your arms, crossing them and rubbing them as a way to comfort. “he left me behind. to protect me from whatever evil this journey will birth. but i was ready to be there next to him! i was ready to protect him in my own way.” you weren’t exactly sure what that looked like, but you were prepared to sacrifice - after all, it’s not like you had much at stake.

the dryad stares at you, eyeless sockets like the void, but infinitely more comforting. before it sighs, “i will help you--”

“why?” you interrupt, cautious as ever.

“i do not have long on this realm and you were the first being that had shown me kindness, is it not fitting for one birthed from love to return love?” the ground breaks, a root curling upwards, breaking through the winterfrost that made it forest floor unmoveable. upon closer, you see a circle of gold hanging from the curve of the root. “forged from deep within the earths, when i used to boast more beauty than now. it is meant to guide you to your heart’s desire.”

you look at the ring, the metal warm and lovely - as though you held your hands against a flickering hearth. “how does it work?”

it laughs softly, a whisper of a breeze, bringing the smell of spring before demeter’s winter dominates once more. “bring it close to your chest and allow your heart to guide you, the ring will show you the way.” you pull back and offer your gratitude with a smile, a nod, watching as the dryad heaves one more mighty sigh before the trunk seals shut and the face fades into obscurity, once more like the trunk it was before.

you stand there, the ring clutched to your chest, just above your heart. it was strange to speak to a dryad that wasn’t speio, shaking your head to dismiss the cobwebs of memory that persisted. there was no point in sinking into nostalgia, it was better to do so when everything calmed down.

as the dryad had instructed, you closed your eyes and allowed thoughts to fall away from your mind - leaving you with the blissful emptiness that allowed your heart to speak freely, without obstruction. the ring warms, hot enough that you grow alarmed, eyes snapping open and peering down at the metal. it shone like a miniature sun, whispering sweetly before a beam of light shoots forward, between the trees and to the great beyond. “what the---” your brows furrow, as you wave a hand through the beam of light, disturbing it like ripples of water, yet remains steadfast in the direction it pointed.

was this what the dryad meant by the ring showing you the path to your heart’s desire?

suddenly buoyed by the thought of your journey made easier, you grin and untangle amydros’ reins from the branch and leapt onto his back, kicking your heels into his flanks. “follow the light!” amydros tosses his head, kicking up dirt and snow underneath his hooves.

the woods thicken, branches so numerous that it blocked the sn, the darkness illuminated by the magical glow of the ring, casting away the shadows that lingered at the edges of your vision. it was wise to allow the both of you to rest, but wolves prowled about in these woods - that and untold dangers. and you weren’t willing to boast your admittedly-pathetic fighting skills.

you had been following the path of the light, unwavering, wind stirring your hair and breath frosting in the air - but then it veers sharply to the right, into a darker path. “shit!---” you yank on amydros’ reins to halt his run, backing him up until you were in full-view of the deviation of the path. “why here?” the ring is brought to your face, pulsating with warm life, pointing into the darker woods, the branches curling about like an archway. unnatural, yet not.

was this your heart’s desire?

with the reins clutched tightly in your hands, you turn your steed towards the dark void of the path, branches and rotted wood curling about. amydros flicks his ear uneasily, and you stroke his neck carefully. “easy. there must be something there.” with a deep breath and no small amount of courage, you both turn onto the path.

the trail was craggy. interrupted by fallen branches, stones and grooves. this told you that it was a path not regularly traveled by horse or by man, a thought that does not comfort you. after all, danger does not only lie with the mortal realm.

the thought to turn around arose the deeper you went down the path, but considering how tight the squeeze was, it wasn’t an option. trees shuddered, darkness encroaching and stifling enough that you couldn’t breathe. visions of red and crimson flashed before your gaze, screams shrilling in your ears, body shaking and fists curled tightly enough that it bit into your palms.

red and gold, red and gold. only the union of gods and mortal so bold ---- can end this all.

blood flooded your mouth, spilling down your chin, and when you think you cannot handle anymore... you stumble into an open meadow. the air was still, the grass and flowers frosted, yet alive - suspended between life and death. purple butterflies floated about, lingering at your side before floated off. the ring warms, the light pointed towards the figure standing in the middle, draped in reaper’s cloth and scythe held like a harbinger above the hood of lord thanatos.

he looked surprised by your appearance, just as you were by his. “what are you doing here? and... where is zagreus?” lord thanatos looks past you, expecting to see the prince stumble after you, but after realizing that he wasn’t there, golden eyes snap to you.

you slide down with shaky legs, wiping the blood away with the edge of the cloak, approaching lord thanatos and dropping to a knee. the cold immediately sunk into your knee, head bowed. “lord thanatos, i did not expect to see you here.” nor did you expect to have the ring show thanatos to be your heart’s desire, but you kept that fact wisely to yourself, face reddening. “---the prince isn’t here. he left me behind at a town, intent on pursuing his---” you pause, lifting your head before pushing yourself to your feet. was it wise to reveal why zagreus left? or were you going to set things in motion that should not occur.

“well?” he asks impatiently, his features deadpan, yet betraying enough that you knew it was better to speak. besides, zagreus had always spoke about the steadfastness of thanatos, about how he was to be trusted. you quickly pray that he was right.

“prince zagreus went to pursue his missing mother. in a place heavily shielded by magic. lord hermes had given him a map and i intended to follow, but he left me behind. i was given this,” you show the glowing ring, the beam of light disappearing into the darkness of his garb, “and it led me to you. it was meant to show my... heart’s desire.” it was said fast, yet your face warms. “the times are growing stranger, my lord...”

lord thanatos takes everything in, eyes falling shut in thought. “mmm. interesting, this is quite troubling news.” he hovers above the flowers, brows furrowed in a tight knot. death incarnate does not speak for some time, long enough that you shift in place uneasily. "things are changing. things are not dying and ancient evils are speaking within the wells of tartarus. zagreus' mother disappearing is the first step. the olympians will not intervene unless they need to," lord thanatos says this with a curl to his lip, derision evident. "instead they will use zagreus and whatever foolish individual that follows as tools."

(you suspect that he's speaking about you...)

"nonetheless, we cannot leave the fool to die. or meet a fate unknown." his scythe swishes in the air, purple eye blinking at you magnanimously. "i will aid you in your quest, groundskeep." lord thanatos was an imposing figure and to have him as an ally was.... well, it was comforting. there was no figure, no deity feared more, than this god before you. even the olympians feared what he could do; for through his touch, they could find their deaths as well.

"wait--- you're helping me?" your mouth drops open in shock, and this! coming from someone who had threatened you weeks ago....

lord thanatos arched a brow, "was i unclear in my declaration? i'm going to help you find zagreus and subsequently, his mother. it is a pain to have things... not die." there's something in his eyes that told you that there was something more to this, but you don't pry. the machinations of gods were not your concern. "i will speak with lord hermes and see if he could replicate the map he gave zagreus, let your magic ring guide you to him. meanwhile, here." lord thanatos reaches into his chiton, producing a small, little tattered mouse. patchworked with fabric and soft to the touch. it nestled comfortably in the circle of your arms.

"... what is this?" you look up at death incarnate, cocking your head. why... was he giving you a child's toy?

much to your surprise, his cheeks took on a gentle, gold hue. as though he was embarrassed by your question. “his name is mort, use him if you are in trouble, and i shall come to your aid. but! only when you need it, i cannot always come. find zagreus, do not fail me. and, groundskeep? this is between us.” lord thanatos says this threateningly before disappearing in a flash of green light, temporarily causing spots to appear in your vision.

you are left alone, the earth heaving a sigh at the departure of death. the air stirred once more, the darkness lifting slightly and the strange, purple butterflies that danced in the meadows were gone. you looked at the little mouse, large enough to carry comfortably, and soft too! a quick look around told you that you were alone, save for amydros grazing nearby and took a slight sniff of the toy.

it smelled of... lavender. of ash. the two smells of your dead town that dominated your nose. but instead of filling you with grief, you were filled with a strange sense of peace. you place mort at the bottom of your bag, where it wouldn’t fall out by accident and leapt once more onto amydros’ back.

the path that you had entered was brighter now, less stifling. the ring flickered to life and pointed northward - towards the town that menelaia had spoken about. you kick your heels and amydros thundered towards where he needed to be.

yet even with the ache of your thighs, the burn of your lungs, your thoughts went back to the god. what did he mean by things not dying anymore? what evil speaks in tartarus? perhaps these questions would be better answered with an oracle or a seer - if the town had any. “let’s hope we find zagreus by then,” you say aloud, amydros’ ear flicked back at you in acknowledgement.

but you weren’t that worried, zagreus had a way of avoiding trouble.

#hades the game #hades supergiant #thanatos hades #my writing #aku writing

19 notes · View notes

warwaged-moved · 3 years

Text

Although canon timeline gets confusing, likely because they didn’t think it through decided to retcon things later, I don’t disregard Beyond the Dark Portal but I have a different take on how things go, especially when it comes to A.lleria’s relationship with Tu.ralyon. So, taking it into account, here’s my take on how things happened (spoilers: it doesn’t include A.lleria calling Tu.ralyon my love half a second after they’ve talked to each other and made peace, sorry not sorry @Beyond the Dark Portal):

A.lleria and Tura.lyon met when fighting in the Second War. Before that, she did not have contact with many humans, and if she didn’t necessarily look down on them, A.lleria didn’t really see them as equals either (their senses are not as sharp as the elves’, their lives are way too short, and they are still quite arrogant in spite of that, in her eyes). It isn’t until the war that she has a chance to get to know them better, and fighting beside the humans definitely changes her views on them.

Tura.lyon, specifically, does not mean much to her in the beginning. He’s obviously smitten with her, and she finds it way too amusing to waste the opportunities to tease him — but in the beginning this is all her actions are: amusement. She never seriously leads him on, and he’s quite aware she’s entertained by his reaction to her. But as time passes they genuinely become closer. A.lleria learns to respect him after fighting with him and following his leadership, and then her actions around him are not as much jokes as they were before.

She’s interested, but she isn’t in love. It is infatuation at most, she thinks, and it’ll pass soon enough (it isn’t as if she considers a serious relationship with him either: he’s a human still, his entire life until adulthood is only a fraction of her own and she’s bound to outlive him). In truth her feelings go a little deeper than she’s willing to believe they go, but it isn’t some deep, endless love. She’s falling for him, but on her part it is slow, and she makes it slower still with all the resistance against it she creates.

When they learn the Horde will target Quel.Thalas, A.lleria is immediately on edge (she grows restless, impulsively wants to run to her home ahead of the army, questions every single decision he makes just because). She’s worried about her home, her people, and the people she loves that are there and don’t know what’s coming for them. Arriving there afterwards and fighting to drive them back and still having to watch their forests burn wounded her very deeply, even more because of her previous concern. And then she learns most of her family died, including her little brother, and it breaks her in a way A.lleria hadn’t yet been broken.

She doesn’t love Tura.lyon when she goes to him. The logic is flimsy, and only really logical to her because of the state of absolute emotional wreck she’s in. She doesn’t want to be vulnerable in front of people she knows and loves and who look up to her, though, and she came to like and trust him well enough that she seeks him instead. It isn’t a well thought out thing – she’s barely thinking at all – but it feels like a good enough idea at the time: this way her sisters won’t see her breaking, because she has to be strong for them, and she won’t burden friends who have lost people themselves, and she won’t be vulnerable in front of those who look up to her as a leader.

It (obviously) wasn’t a good idea. It is something she’ll regret immediately afterwards. A.lleria would feel guilty she had used him to try to forget her hurt, because he obviously cares for her and she does not feel the same, at least not as intensely. There is no future for them, she thinks, and what she did would give him hopes of something that couldn’t be. Beyond that, she’s still hurting; she’ll continue to hurt for a long time, unable to process her grief, unable to let go and heal. As soon as it is over and he is asleep, she leaves. Afterwards, A.lleria is cold towards him purposefully, so he will know it was just one night, so he won’t think it is more than it is. Tura.lyon doesn’t take well to it, but A.lleria thinks it’s best that way. Let him live his short human life with someone who can love him better than she can. Besides, it isn’t as if he understands; he doesn’t like the path she’s taking and she cannot meet his criticism with anything other than anger.

A.lleria isn’t concerned with love, by then and after that. All she wants is revenge. For everything, for all the family she lost, but especially for her brother. Even after the war is over, she doesn’t stop hunting the orcs, and she revels in their pain. She wants each and every orc dead, but a thousand kills do not lessen her thirst for revenge, neither do they fill the emptiness within her. They do not make her feel less guilty for being alive while Lirath is dead. She won’t let go of anger and hatred for years still. And in the meanwhile between the night she regrets and the future in which vengeance is not her utmost priority, A.lleria finds herself pregnant.

It is kind of (very) despairing at first. Most of her family died, and she’s in a very dark place mentally and emotionally. She feels the need to keep it together for those around her, but she’s falling apart. She came to regret the one night in which her child was conceived, and it isn’t like she can exactly count on someone she pushed away to care for a child now. Besides, it is said the High Elves didn’t look favorably towards half-elven children, which is one more reason to be concerned for her unborn child. A.lleria doesn’t seek support of anyone else; she hesitates in even telling people close to her about it.

But she’s decided to have her child and to keep the baby with her regardless. Eventually she’d have to speak; but before it would be noticeable, she’d let at least Sylv.anas and Ve.reesa know (maybe some of her closest friends, but even that is uncertain; she might also have panicked and told Hal.duron at some point before even telling her sisters...). So A.rator is born in Quel.Thalas, and no matter what she feels towards his father, she loves her son from the beginning. And I think much of her love for A.rator, and how deep and important to A.lleria it is, comes from the place she was in at the time of his birth. To her, he was a flicker of love and hope in a world that was seemingly all devoid of it; and the fact he may suffer some prejudice amidst her people only made her more determined to give him love that would make up for it.

Contacting Tura.lyon to even let him know never crosses her mind as a serious option. She would have thought of it at times, especially when his letters arrived, as he explicitly mentions having written to her and never gotten any answer, but she would be angry at herself for even considering it. If someone said she should (I believe someone might have), A.lleria would cut them short. She doesn’t need him, he cannot help; A.rator is her son, and they’ll be fine just the two of them.

Except they won’t, because even though she’s wholeheartedly dedicated and entirely loving towards him, she’s also consumed with vengeance and hatred for what happened to Lir.ath. A.rator would give her happiness she wouldn’t have felt ever since the war, but immediately afterwards even the faintest glimmer of happiness, she’d feel immense guilt (how can she be alive, happy, laughing, after having failed her home, after failing to prevent Lir.ath’s death? her brother would never get to laugh again, he would never father his own children; why should she have all of this, when he would not?).

It would become a cycle, and it definitely pushed her away further: happiness makes her feel guilty, guilt makes her dive headfirst in battle and revenge. She makes herself believe that A.rator would be better without her, but cannot find it in herself to tell Tura.lyon about their son and leave A.rator with him. It is part of why she’s so eager to go beyond the dark portal, too: she wants vengeance, and to protect the things she loves, and to die fighting, to die in a way that can at least leave her sisters proud, to die and leave her son to be raised by those who could do it better than she ever could.

Is it immensely hard to just pretend nothing ever happened once she’s forced to interact with Tura.lyon again, especially considering she is well aware their one night resulted in the most precious baby boy in Azeroth and beyond? Yes, but their antagonism towards each other helps; anger does not leave much room for her to feel guilty for not letting him know of anything. Of course, once they are together again, and once she acknowledges her feelings for him go well beyond just infatuation, she knows the conversation has to happen — and it is only then that she tells him of A.rator. It is quite a mess that they made, so reconciliation isn’t by any means easy, and A.lleria is never one to just give herself completely and without wariness. To her, opening up to him again is a slow process; and if physical contact comes earlier and easier than verbal declarations, even that would be slow. She doesn’t shy away from him, maybe even seeks him at times, but more often than not, A.lleria would more likely wait for him to seek contact than initiate it herself —- and it would definitely take a long while for her to reciprocate I love yous.

#I forgot to bring this to the new blog but #here is a slightly updated version #because it's an important headcanon #especially when I keep asking for a tura.lyon but have a very specific idea of how their relationship developed #between tod and btdp and how arator fits with all of that #but honestly #this is still what makes the most sense with the fact they don't acknowledge ara.tor in btdp and he couldn't have been born later #‣ out of character { the mun } — ❝ THAT GLOOMY GIRL WHO SIGHS A LOT. ❞#‣ muse { alleria windrunner } — ❝ VOIDFORGED. ❞#‣ character study { alleria windrunner } — ❝ WILD AND WARM LIKE SUMMER. ❞#‣ dynamics { alleria windrunner & turalyon } — ❝ DEEP BLUE BUT YOU PAINTED ME GOLDEN. ❞#‣ dynamics { alleria windrunner & arator windrunner } — ❝ SUNSHINE ON HER DARKEST DAYS. ❞

2 notes · View notes

mcmystery · 3 years

Text

Cerise’s Request (long post)

Cerise has been thinking for some time now, that something may be missing in her life. She has a lovely home secluded in the deepest part of the woods within the Continent of Sanus. Everything in her home brings her comfort and joy, for she has books to read, a kitchen filled with all the things to bake and cook, even a huge outside area for her to explore and play in. Though, with her husband away at times, she has no one to read books with, someone to enjoy the things she bakes and cooks, and no one for her to explore and play with in the deep forest that surrounds their cozy nest.

She mostly enjoys her home whenever her husband comes back from his work. Once she’s calmed down from her over excitement of him being back with her, they enjoy every moment together. She takes care of him as he rests from his work and enjoys the back and forth conversations they have as she prepares loving meals for him. Sometimes, they walk through the forest and admire the nature that surrounds their home or play games of hide and seek, were Cerise always wins. Most of all, she loves the evenings where they sit together in their living room. It’s the time they can catch up with each other, each giving what they’ve done during their time apart. Both bundled together in the others presence. Maybe a glass of wine here and there, or a quiet staring contests that usually ends with loving kisses, muffled giggles and no victor.

Three years into their marriage and the cycle repeats but never dulls in her heart. It’s the time alone that brings in the melancholy thoughts of not being able to share these precious moments with someone that’s just as important to her, like her husband. Then, a beloved thought crossed her mind, or rather a phone conversation between her and her parents who nudged the idea. It was wonderful for her to think about, and she thought about it day and night. An idea she couldn’t wait to spring onto her husband. Of course, once he comes back from work that is.

The day came, that Cerise was waiting for. Her husband notified her that he would be back home in the evening and she giggled with fluttery emotions of happiness. Once he arrived, she took notice of his tired character, so she put her question away for the night and tended to his fatigue. A nice meal between the two, which followed with a warm shower that they shared. As they dried each other off, he carried her to bed and not waste time to remind her how much he loved her. Between her blurred thoughts, Cerise questioned his energy reserve, for he was quite passionate this night. Maybe he was saving his energy for this moment that they could spend together. Either way, both came to find slumber in each other’s arms.

The next morning, Cerise awoke to find her husband already out of bed. He’s well rested now, so it’s the perfect opportunity to ask him the question that’s been on her mind since her parents last phone conversation. She quickly got out of bed, dressed herself enough to be decent and skipped out the bedroom door into the living room where her husband sat reading from his scroll.

“Good morning, honey~!” Cerise greeted happily.

“Morning, sleep well?” He responded, with a bit of a smirk. She sat down next to him on the couch but gave some space between them.

“Of course, though it would’ve been better to wake up next to you.” She pouted a bit.

He chuckled as his eyes went back to his scroll reading the news for the day. “Well, you tend sleep in, must I stay and wait for you to wake up?”

“Yes.” A simple and honest answer, but Cerise already wanted to jump into the next subject that’s she’s been eager to talk about. She watched her husband’s eyes scan side to side as he read.

“Hey, honey, can I ask you something?” Cerise inserted, her heart began to quicken in pace.

“Sure, what is it?” His eyes still fixated on the screen of his scroll.

“How do you feel about…” She paused briefly, holding herself from blurting out the word and frightening him. “children?”

He looked up from his scroll, but instead of looking at her to give his answer, he’s eyes slowly made there way back to the wordy screen. “They’re pleasant to be around, innocent.”

Cerise didn’t expect that kind of answer, or maybe she didn’t know what to expect. Some sort of excited spark in his eyes, a joyful smile or maybe lunging at her to just get down to business.

“Okay, how would you feel about…us having children?” She asked again.

This time her husband put down his scroll and looked at her, “Cerise, are you pregnant?” He responded with a small smile, but eyebrows knit together.

“WHAT! No! I mean…not yet?” She shrugged and gave an awkward grin back at him.

He chuckled to himself lightly, “You want to have children?”

“Yessss!” She laid herself towards him on the couch, “I mean, we’ve been married for like, 3 years now. Plus, my parents asked when we should be expecting and oh! If we don’t have any soon now, my parents won’t last to see their grandchildren grow up!” She gripped at her husbands pants as if pleading.

He looked down at her, giving her a raised eyebrow, “Cerise, there should be a more adequate reason to have a child besides just that. Either way, having a child is a lot of work. They need care and lots of attention, to be fed, bathed, dressed and don’t get me started on education. If I’m not here, it would be a lot of work for just you, and I can’t really take time off right now.”

Cerise peered up at him, “Hmm, you sound like you know a lot about raising a child.”

He became tense with her stare. “Um-” he was caught off.

“That must mean you’re ready to have some!” She quickly got up from her laying position and climbed over him, straddling his lap. “Don’t worry, maybe my parents can come help me out if you’re not here!”

“Wha- Cerise! Please, I’m trying to read today’s news, can’t we discuss this matter later.”

“Please, honey! I really want your baby~!” She begged, gripping his shoulders and staring right at him.

His cheeks tinted a slight shade of pink, “You shouldn’t say it out loud like that!” He said as he pinned his eyes to hers.

“What, why? We live alone, what else am I to say? Please, knock me up?” She whispered her last phrase. He pushed himself up from the couch and left her to fall from him, leaving the room.

Cerise felt hurt, he never avoided her in such a way, but before her thoughts started to deepen with negative connotation, her focus is brought back to a bag of flour presented to her.

“Here.” Her husband gifted her with.

Cerise grabbed the bag of flour slowly, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“It’s your new baby, take care of it like it’s a real one.” He responded.

Cerise looked at the paper bag of flour, “But it’s just flour…”

Her husband sat back down next to her. “It is, but just use this as an exercise. Seriously look at this bag of flour and believe it’s a baby that you must care for. If you’re serious about having a child, then practice with this. Believe it’s a real baby, do research on how to care for and nurture it. If I see you can properly take care of this, we can discuss more about having a child of our own.”

Cerise looked at the bag of flour and gave a questionable look, but if this will prove to her husband that she serious about a baby, then she’ll do it. “You got it! I’ll take care of this baby like you’ve never seen!” She leaped from her seat and raised the flour in the air, excited.

Over the couple of days her husband stayed home, Cerise read up all on how to properly take care of a child. She struggled to do a proper diaper or make a decent bottle to feed their powdery bundle of joy. At one time, she almost dropped the bag of flour on the floor but caught it roughly with her semblance of strings. At each moment her husband watched her actions and saw her struggle, but she was dedicated to face through these somewhat failures.

As the night came, he came to bed to find Cerise sleeping soundly next to the baby bag of flour. He chuckled under his breath at her devotion, because it was endearing to him. In fear of flour spilling all over the bed, he gently pulled it away from her. Cerise awoke just slightly, but her husband quietly assured her that he would take care of the “baby” for a bit. She nodded and laid her head back to bed.

He took the flour bag, that Cerise started showing loving affection to, back to the kitchen. In a humorous attempt, he rocked the bag like the baby to amuse himself. He froze. His mind raced with images of children that flashed quickly in his mind. He held the bag just below his face, looking at it. Droplets of tears fell onto the paper material and dampened it. He stayed there for a while, standing alone in a dark kitchen, as he silently let his tears run out of control.

In the morning Cerise awoke, again not seeing her husband next to her, but also the baby she came to love, missing. Her thoughts were cut off as a delicious smell trickled into their bedroom. Cerise got up and headed slowly to the kitchen. She wiped the sleep away from her eyes as she entered.

“Honey, what are you doing?” She asked as her vision came clear to seeing her husband making pancakes, next to his cooking station, the half empty bag of flour. “W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

He flipped the fluffy disc in the pan, “I’m making pancakes, how many do you want?”

Cerise was in shock, “NO! The baby!” She rushed over and looked at the damages. “How could you!?”

“Cerise, its flour.” Was his response.

“No, he’s not! He’s a baby with feelings and, and…” She came to look at the contents of what she was holding. Silence filled the kitchen. Cerise then dumped the remaining flour on the floor.

Her husband jumped back as the flour spread across the floor and the dust lifted in the air. “HEY! Why did you do that?!”

“BECAUSE YOU MADE ME GET SENTIMENTAL OVER A DUMB BAG OF FLOUR!” She answered, crunching the bag in her hand.

They both looked intensely at each other, then the husband spoke. “You’re helping me clean this up.”

“Hmph, after pancakes…” She turned her back to him, arms crossed.

As they ate in silence, Cerise pouted between bites. Her husband watched her carefully, feeling guilty. He didn’t think she would be this upset over a bag of flour, but at least he knew that she truly did want to devote her time to take care of something so important. And maybe he needs to reconsider his priorities, to spend more time with her, or at least rearrange his working schedule to make time for her and possibly a family.

“Cerise…” He started. Cerise didn’t look at him but continued her meal. “You want a baby?”

Cerise looked at him, with a gleam of hope in her eyes. “Yes.” She responded simple and honestly.

“Will that make you happy?” He asked. She dropped her utensils and looked at him directly and clasped her hands together.

“More than anything.” She spoke back with desperation.

“…Okay, I promise. We can have a baby.” He spoke softly and gave a warm smile to her.

With this Cerise smiled brightly and she started eating away at her meal in quick pace. Her husband became startled at her sudden appetite.

“Hey, don’t eat too fast! What’s the hurry?” He questioned.

“I mwant tou try fright away!!” She muffled between bites.

He looked at her, then he sat back in his seat blushing a bit, “Your honesty is too much for me sometimes…”

“You say something?” She questioned, being that she was focusing on finishing her meal.

He waved his hand in front of his face, as if to ignore what he said and replied instead with, “Just eat slower, you’ll end up throwing it all up.”

------

Another writing prompt for Cerise and her mysterious husband TvT!! Now we know where his promise to her came from! Still need to work on my writing skills but I’m trying though!!

#mcmysteryart #rwby oc #writing #writing concept #between destiny #Cerise Han-Brunswick

14 notes · View notes