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moonshine-nightlight · 10 months

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Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Eight

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 28

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] Part Twenty-Eight [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

If you had thought that the relatively good note that last gala in Connton ended on was a sign of things to come, you would have been wrong. Despite his more jovial turn at the end of the night, Dale’s melancholy in the garden persisted far more than that last mood. If anything he’d been more distant, with hints of a frustrated temper that worries you in its reminder of the man you’d no longer thought you’d have to deal with. You can’t tell what is causing the mood, though you know of many potential culprits.

It could be the investigation. Early the last morning in Connton, you’d seen Dale conversing in the stable loft with a pair of rough-looking folks. From their serious, almost sharp demeanor, and their nondescript brown clothing, everything about them screamed mercenaries. Dale was crouched in the shadows and you almost didn’t recognize him. In fact, you were fairly certain you weren’t supposed to be able to as nothing of his physical features were discernible beyond the vague outline of a person, but his eyes were glowing bright blue with white pupils. The way they had reflected briefly with the light of the single swinging lantern had made you think they belong to a cat at first. The mercenaries certainly looked respectful of his obvious inhuman appearance. When Dale was playing his own contractor, he must be pretending to have demonic enhancements.

You don’t think they noticed you—you hurried on your way quickly enough—having only been up this early to accept the box of herbal ingredients you’d ordered from a local shop. Still, it worried you because the mercenary angle of the investigation wasn’t expected to move forward quickly enough for them to need to meet again so soon. Not that you’d had a chance to speak with Dale about it, or could admit to what you saw in mixed company.

Between the trip back to the Northridge estate, settling back into the estate, and then preparations for the wedding, you’d not had a single moment alone with him. One of his grandparents was always present. They spoke only of wedding matters in the company of others and pressed him for updates on the investigation when alone, which he refused to grant. This left you without any new notes on the situation either.

Dinner the last couple nights had been pleasant, with Dale spending an acceptable amount of time with family. However, nearly all wedding guests had arrived by now–with no sign of Great Aunt Deborah to the Northridges’ collective relief. Dale had elected to spend the majority of his socializing with the friends with which he’d traveled abroad. Even if it did result in him getting rather more drunk than he usually had.

You take a sip of your own wine and gently chide yourself that he isn’t that bad—and certainly not as bad as some of the others. However, you want to spend that time with him. You want another private walk in the garden. You want his hand in yours. You want his support with your family—who you were weathering, but primarily on your own. It still irks you to have talked more with his relatives and your own than with him or even much with his friends these past nights. He’d given cursory introductions, but seemed intent on socializing with them without you.

Perhaps he knows you’d not get along. Perhaps he is trying to afford you more time to speak with your family, to reestablish yourself as an adult with them. You’d thought you’d made your appreciation of his support clear, but maybe he just thought you only needed him to smooth over the beginnings of conversations and not throughout? Perhaps he is attempting to gather information for the investigations on either Eastmont or the Heiress. Maybe he’s trying to verify the people he excluded from the list were proper. If these friends of the original Dale are more likely to open up with only their old friend and not his new, wallflower fiance, is that so unreasonable?

Dale hasn’t discussed any of this with you and you hate how your mind jumps to the conclusion that he’s avoiding you when it’s as likely that he was simply too busy to take the time. Because that guess is too close to your other fears. That perhaps he has made other plans. That maybe getting back into the world of demonic mercenaries is tempting. Or maybe he can see now that noble life came with its own dangers. Or all the pretending was making him realize he’d be playacting as Lord Dale for the rest of his time here and he isn’t sure he wants that anymore.

A body bumps into your own, startling you out of your reverie and your spiraling thoughts. A baron you barely recognize says, “My apologies,” as he hurries over to catch a servant’s attention. You sigh as you finish your own glass of wine and look for something lighter to drink for the rest of the evening. If you’re already this nervous, with so many anxious thoughts tumbling around in your mind, the clearer you can think the better.

Grandmother had left for the evening, with your blessing and thoughts on one of the dessert dishes for the chef you’d hired for the wedding. Your mother had followed her. Your father had retired early with the grandchildren. Callalily and her husband had been with some of Dale’s more distant relatives all day because Callalily could and would find a way to expand her social network anywhere.

You’d better join Marigold, her husband, and the artistic circle they had accrued before Douglas charitably drew you into his circle of military compatriots. You’d sacrificed last night to that group, wanting to see the sibling you knew the least—and you think it had been worth it—but your lack of personal experience often left you feeling like an outsider or plain confused. With the way your mind is intent on gnawing at itself this evening, you’d best avoid them. Unless you see Dale join them of course—he’d made a few comments when he was there last night that worried you in the attention they received.

At this rate you were going to leave your wedding only to immediately fall asleep for a week. But until then, where is Marigold? Had she gone to inspect the gardens and the statues within? The sun was setting, but there was still plenty to see by for all the servants would start lighting the torches soon. Accepting a glass of iced tea, you walk along the side of the room with doors out to the gardens, trying to see if any groups are out there.

You think you might have spotted a handful of people in a courtyard, when a hand on your arms startles you. You turn abruptly enough to have to adjust your grip on your glass to keep from spilling only to find Callalily.

Before you can say anything, she links arms with you and begins to walk away from glass doors outside. “I have been meaning to speak with you,” she leans in closer to add, “in private.”

“Oh?” You furrow your brow, but gesture her into the nearby alcove, decorative screens blocking most of the view into the great hall. This unoccupied musician storage room is as close to a separate room as you are going to find without leaving the area entirely. Is Mother doing something again? Has one of Callalily’s children broken a vase? She has been alluding to her and your other married siblings giving you some sort of advice which could be nice, but where are the others? And is a dinner in the great hall with so many people around truly the time for such a thing?

“Yes,” Callalily replies, glancing around, before adding, “about your fiance.”

Ice shoots through your veins. Has she seen something? Did he do something in front of her? Callalily was clever and sharp, able to pick up on nuances others missed with ease, not to mention her memory. Why hadn’t you thought of it before? Simply because no one in Dale’s family hadn’t noticed enough discrepancies to make them suspicious, beyond Grandfather’s now put-to-bed worries about you, did not mean no one would. You swallow. “What about Lord Dale?”

“Are you certain…” Callalily begins before stopping. Callalily never pauses like that, as if she is hesitating. You rack your mind for any time that she might have been alone with Dale and seen something you cannot explain away—that she has not already dismissed as a trick of the eye. However, she doesn’t look frightened, merely apprehensive. Has Dale made some other sort of mistake? “I am aware that you are looking forward to marriage and your independence from our parents. However, is there a possibility you might be acting with some rash or willful blindness regarding the betrothed you’ve chosen?”

You need a minute to parse what she’s said, it's so far from what you were expecting. It sounds as if she knows nothing of his true nature instead she’s suggesting... When you finally comprehend her words without your fears overshadowing them, you blink in shock. “Excuse me? Are you suggesting I choose a different fiance? You believe I should sever my engagement?”

Instead of immediately correcting you, she only looks apologetic. “I am only saying that this will affect the rest of your life and it’s important—”

“—Important I give the decision a due amount of thought?” you finish for her, parroting back her words from when she questioned your choice of school and later questioned focusing your studies on administration rather than medicine despite always attempting to impart upon you the importance of making your own choice free from others influences. “I cannot—.” You can’t believe she would ask you something like this, that she would still doubt your ability to make decisions for yourself. And to ask this now, of all times. “I do not know what is worse, that you think I have not already done so or that you think I’m fickle enough to change my mind three days before the wedding.”

“That’s not what I am saying!” she protests.

You’ve always given her the benefit of the doubt, that she worries about you and only wants what’s best for you. This is so far beyond that. Angry frustration fills every line of your body as you resist the urge to throw your hands in the air. You take a deep breath and say, with as little emotion as possible and as much fake patience as you can muster, “Then what are you saying?”

Callalily falters for a split second before straightening her spine with renewed confidence. “If new information comes to light, then it is necessary to change one’s course of action. There are always legitimate reasons to delay or reconsider important decisions. You are allowed to change your mind.” Her voice gentles at the end and you hate it more than you did the self-righteousness of the beginning. And at the heart of it, all she is saying, in more general words, is exactly what she claimed not to be saying.

You take a deep breath. “I am allowed such a choice. You are not wrong that such a thing is possible. But you are still advocating that I break my betrothal, or at least my wedding date.” You pause, to give her the chance to dispute you, but she keeps her lips pressed together. “Do not act as though doing so would not have far-reaching consequences. Do not act as though I shall do so on the word or suggestion of one other person, no matter how I care for you.” Your stern voice breaks, no matter your attempt to keep up the facade. “I do not understand why you are proposing such a course of action. Has something happened, Callalily? Why are you saying this to me?”

“He does not seem trustworthy,” Callalily says urgently, stepping closer. “The rumors that I’ve heard just since coming here have me concerned. He does not seem worthy of your hand.” That should be flattering to hear, that she thinks so highly of you, and in a manner it is, but it also fills you with worry about what she has heard, what secrets she might be edging around. Simultaneously, you’re embarrassed that she thinks you so ignorant as to not have known any of this yourself. “I’m starting to doubt why Mother and Father even entertained the notion of an engagement with Lord Dale. He is not right for you.”

You don’t even know what to say in the face of such vague accusations. The comment regarding your parents is both surprising and not. Callalily’s faith in your parents decisions always corresponds with if they are in concert with her own—if they agree, it is because they are intelligent, logical parents worthy of respect and if they do not… You’ve no idea what rumors she might have heard otherwise, and her concerns might be more valid with the original Dale, but even in that case, you had committed to this course of action and she’d not have swayed you then, at least, you hope not. “Well, I appreciate your concern, sister,” you try to politely brush her off because the worst thing is when she digs her heels in, “however it is unnecessary in this instance. So let us return—”

“Do not “sister” me,” she hisses. You wince, perhaps you overstepped with your more casual dismissal. “My concerns are valid. You’ve not even heard them out.”

“Fine,” you reply stiffly, trying to hide your fear and weariness with having to defend your choices to the person who most advocates you making them. “Name them. What has you so convinced I should not marry? Has he threatened you? Me? Did you catch him with a lover?” You are careful to name the events least likely to your mind, in order to guarantee her negative response. You know they also give away how fed up you are with having to discuss this, but you find yourself beyond caring at this point. If she wants to do this, it shall be at least as unpleasant for her as it is for you. “Please enlighten me.”

Callalily’s expression vacillates between shocked at your anger and annoyance at your continued downplaying of her worries. “I did not have to stumble upon him with a lover to know he’s taken them before.” You want to point out that many nobles do. That you’d known he had done so. That at least he had been discreet enough that there were no children or even solid evidence of who his lovers were, which is far more than can be said for others. “He’s left a string of them as he traveled and left all dissatisfied with how the affair ended. It appears he prefers to make promises of permanence and position and then break any such vows.” You can believe that of the original Dale. The only reason he had been honest with you in the beginning is because he thought you a guarantee. “Not only to his lovers, but to his proclaimed friends as well. Many were thought to have been guaranteed a position in his household only to have such promises broken with ease.”

That final comment might actually be due to the change in Dale, how you have decided together to choose those deserving of such positions and not simply how politically advantageous bringing in certain people might be. You don’t know how many such promises the original Dale had made, nor how many this Dale has broken. The prospect worries you, could that be why Dale is spending so much time with his friends and why he is in such a tense mood these days? Regardless, you can tell Callalily none of this and so you try hard to keep your expression neutral.

It must be working because Callalily frowns at your lack of response and continues before you can rebut any of her concerns. “Then there are the rumors of his interest and experimentation with the Depths, no matter Northridge’s reputation of staunch opposition.” Your eye must twitch at that, or something else gives away your trepidation with this topic. Callalily’s mouth flattens into a grim smile. “I’ve heard from multiple sources about his study of such subjects and his interest in performing such rituals. Any man who seeks the aid of the Depths, against his family’s wishes and without an obvious need, cannot have good intentions. He falls victim to the lesser vices too: gambling, drinking, spending freely on vanity.”

She holds up a hand and counts off on her fingers, “He’s ambitious, selfish, a liar, and a cheat. He’s not to be trusted or relied upon.”

You wait a few extra seconds to see if there is more before you reply. “I appreciate your concerns, however—”

“However, you’re not going to listen, are you?” Callalily’s hands are on her hips and she purses her lips together in frustrated dismay. “I thought only Marigold was this hard-headed. I thought you knew better, I thought you couldn’t be swayed by a handsome face or—”

“That is enough,” you snap, unable to keep the words in any longer. “Is this a discussion or a lecture? I have let you voice your concerns and if you’re not satisfied with my acknowledgment, then I’ll take my own turn to speak now.”

“Very well.” Callalily snaps. “Go on, what do you say to this?”

You’ve no idea where to start and decide to simply go through in the order she did. After a sip of your drink, you begin, “Firstly, I did do my own research in my prospective spouse as I of course considered this decision very seriously indeed. While my contacts and methods are not your own, I do have some.” While Callalily’s were likely other nobles, foreign officials and the like, you had grown close with your servants—maids and nursemaids alike who cared for you in your illness and you’d continued the habit at school. If your maid, Martina, hadn’t had to help her family, she’d have come with you to Northridge. She’d truly retired from being lady’s maid when you went off to school. She’d apprenticed under a nurse and completed her training, but had agreed to be your maid once more, if only until you were betrothed.

“Clearly they weren’t skilled,” Callalily cuts in to diagnose, “if they did not return with similar information.”

“They did,” you correct, because that was in their report, “baring I assume any information that’s related to Dale’s activities from the last two months, of course. The difference is my context for such information and my personal experience with him. Beyond that, you’ve never grappled with the choices I have.”

“Excuse me?” she looks offended, pressing a hand to her chest. “I am married. It was a decision I made with Mother and Father, but I was the driving decision maker, not them, not societal pressure, nor anything except my own drive for my future.”

“And that cannot be what I have done,” you cannot help but allow a certain sardonic edge to enter into your voice at her implication, “what I am doing.”

“You—”

“No,” you interrupt, ignoring her startled expression. “I believe it is time you listened to me, properly for once.” You take a deep breath while she waits, eyes a bit wider than before, for you to do so. “You were the second oldest, with intelligence, a talent for language, and more confidence in society than I’ll ever have. And robust health, of course. Your options for marrying, for how to spend your days—your vision—none of those are mine.” You can see she knows you can want different things but that she’s still not facing reality when it comes to your opportunities. You swallow and continue, “Mother and Father did their best to keep word of my ill health minimal, but they did not try so hard when I was young. Not until I was older did they begin to believe I’d live to be an adult who had to worry about marriage prospects. They expected me to die young or at least not to outlive Aunt Katherine’s age.”

Callalily pales at your statements and rushes to reassure you, “That’s not, no one wanted—”

“I’m not discussing what they wanted,” you reply gently. “I am stating what they believed to be true.” When she still looks as though she will protest, you ask her outright, “Are you going to say they did tell you as much? That I was born in a fragile state, too late in Mother’s life and with the fits just like Father’s little sister. She was twelve when she died.” They had believed you would do the same. No matter how they tried to hide it, you can barely remember a time in your life you did not know that death chased you far harder than it did others, haunting your every spasm. “You should have seen how Father looked at me from eleven ‘til I went three months without a fit, when he could look at me at all.”

Callalily has no notion of how to response. She places a hand on your shoulder, trying for some sort of physical comfort, “I...”

When nothing further escapes her mouth, you try for a smile. “I’m not saying this for pity, Callalily, I’m saying this because you act as though I was not the one who lived through it. As if I was not the one in pain, not the one who was dying. As if I slept through those years.” You’ve never been able to understand that belief. As if, despite certain medicinal efforts, you were in some sort of un-rememberable haze during those times. It was your life, your body.

You straighten as you proclaim, “Well, I did not. I was very aware. My dreams were not your dreams, but I did have them. As it is, I’ve been quite successful, for a given metric of success as I have achieved most of them by. I can walk across a room without worrying I’m going to hurt myself. I can run and ride and dance.” You remember counting steps and keeping track of days and pushing yourself to grab every tiny chance to live. How hard and easy it had been to achieve some of those goals once you began the upward climb to recovery. “I have been able to leave our country estate and attend to school and participate in galas.” You gesture to the ball beyond you.

“At the school that I wished to attend, even if it wasn’t the one you still believe I should have gone to, I was finally able to dream beyond even that.” It had taken some time, your dreams so distant for so long, that you had felt lost once you were there, life overwhelming in a manner you were unaccustomed to. “I do not want to become a diplomat as you are, or an artist, or a knight. An academic or a physician do not appeal either, although I know you think I should become a doctor.” She had said as much in her letters and in person. You have explained that you enjoy the topic and taking care of yourself, but you do not wish it for a career. She thinks it is Mother’s influencing pushing for a more traditional noble life or your own insecurities and fears holding you back. You simply do not want it.

You’ve tried to persuade her you are not settling or giving in or whatever else she believes. You want her to listen so badly this time as you say, “I spent too much time with Asher in his study. I enjoyed my administration classes too much. I was on an estate too long. My wish is to aid in the running of a fief, even if I’m fifth born. Even if the rumors of my sickness were so persistent that the first few potential suitors I was introduced to thought I’d died years ago. I begged Mother for the extra health reports.” You’d hated them, hated how invasive they were and how skeptical the doctors were. You had feared them telling you the illness would return or that you were unfit to be married. However, in the end, you’d needed their assurances to the contrary nearly as much as your prospects had. “Our parents increased my dowry in response to my wishes.” They had still managed the process and it had been what they were hoping for, to see you follow the most traditional path, but why shouldn’t you have encouraged them when it was in service to your own ends?

Callalily did appear to be listening, or at least she made no further motions to interrupt. You feel bolstered by that and say, “There were others we considered. True, not many, but a handful. I’ve no desire to do the socializing and connection forging a new baron would require,” you begin covering the reasons you turned down the few you’d had even a single conversation with. Perhaps it's disingenuous to mention these who you’d no formal discussion about marriage, but they were people and families that had been tangible enough that you recall your reasons of rejection. “I’ve no desire to shoulder all the administration a collegiate heir would ask. I’ve no desire to raise another’s children, never sure of my own future if they move against me. I might not run as cold as Mother likes to believe, but I do not want to spend months in the snow. I do not want to move somewhere I cannot speak the language fluently.” At the last one, you can’t help but give her a pointed look to remind her that you don’t have her facility with language, to reiterate that you want different things.

You take another deep breath, because now you must discuss Dale—without giving voice to any of the changes that have happened with him. “Lord Dale, even with his concerning reputation at times, did not come with such obstacles. Many take lovers prior to marriage, do you think me ignorant?” You are aware she thought you on the naive side, but you need her to remember that you’ve been an adult for years now and do not require such coddling. “He was discrete with those matters, as I am certain you cannot identify them all. Not to mention, they are liable to spin such affairs to have faults that are his rather than their own.” Callalily reluctantly nods her agreement at that.

At least, having connections with who you did meant you were more confident that she might be in the main point. “I made certain he’d sired no bastard children, through my medical contacts.” You can see she hadn’t considered that you might have such advantages, but you’ve no desire to dwell on this topic. You need to confront her concerns with his personality head on before you lose steam. “He’s on the arrogant side, spoiled to a degree given how his grandparents raised him after his parent’s untimely death,” you quietly acknowledge with a glance to ensure you are still alone in your alcove, before continuing, “but many heirs are. As for gambling, he plays cards, yes, but he has no concerning debts I could find. He’s not violent with his friends nor his servants. He’s not a drunkard, if we’re wanting to discuss vices. Did you truly find anything to support such activities?”

“No,” Callalily admits. “You are correct, there was nothing to obvious excess that I discovered in my minimal investigation. However, his research into concerning topics…” She trails off, obviously allowing you to have the floor back.

You’re grateful she’s letting you, that she seems far more interested in a true discussion than she had originally. It’s still more than you’ve perhaps ever said at one time to her and naturally it is on the most complex topic in your life. “As for his academic interests,” you say carefully, “I’ve spoken with him and am aware of his stance on such matters. He disagrees with the rigidity of his grandparents’ laws and actions. In the manner of many rebellious youth, he had pursued the opposite. Now, he seeks to ensure he knows enough to protect himself and Northridge. He has moved on from his more careless experimentation, to my knowledge.” Whatever else he does now, it cannot be more careless, that’s for certain.

“And the broken oaths?” Callalily asks, sterner and more skeptical after your most recent answer.

You sigh, wishing you’d had the foresight to realize how this would appear from the outside. “As for certain promises made to his friends, after he discussed them with his grandparents, myself, and the steward, some were retracted due to unsuitability. It is a sign of the better judgment of the study room rather than the rash wishes when traveling and drinking. It is expected, to change one’s mind in light of the advice of trusted advisors, is it not?” you can’t help but add, echoing her original point.

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t disagree. You’ve provided a rebuttal to the majority of her points, right? You take advantage of her still rather open mood to attempt to state as clearly as you can where you stand. “My desire is to marry Lord Dale and be his lady of Northridge. I’d thank you to respect my decision. It’s already been made.”

She frowns, but it's more thoughtful and resigned than angry or frustrated which you hope is a good sign. “I see. You certainly have an answer for everything, do you not?” She sighs heavily, but you think you hear only defeat in the sound, not her preparing for another fight. “I had no idea you were so aware of how concerning we all found your condition, nor had I thought since your recovery of what else your illness might still cast a pall over. I think you are still—well, I suppose that’s only my view, is it not?”

“I can continue speaking, explain further,” you offer, but your voice gives away how wearing you find the concept. “You might eventually make a point I haven’t considered.”

“No,” she replies, shaking her head and glancing back at the still bustling grand hall. “I’ll not put us both through that. Not here, not now—though anything you want to confide in me, I’d hear,” she offers with a small smile. “I suppose the only question I have left to ask is: has he been treating you well? Not only in public, but in private?”

She’s sincere in her question and you appreciate the feeling of familial support it gives you. You know if you answered to the contrary, she would help you break such an engagement. The prospect makes you feel safer, even if it is unnecessary. “Yes, he has.”

“Even so, some do not reveal themselves until time passes,” she warns, but you can tell it’s for the sake of it, out of general protectiveness, not doubt in you.

That lets you answer her calmly instead of defensively, “I’m aware. I have contingencies for that outcome, should it occur.” She raises a brow at that, but you’ll not discuss that here. You’ve no notion how she’d see you medicinal protections. “I cannot wait for the clear, perfect, future—I can only grasp what is in front of me.”

“I suppose that is all any of us can do,” she agrees. Then she ventures a more tentative observation, “You have appeared weary and tense over the past few days. I thought he might be the cause.”

You blink in surprise, you hadn’t thought she’d notice. So much for hiding those feelings, you think ruefully. “I’m not one for all these parties and socializing, no matter how I used to long for them. They are more enjoyable in theory, or in moderation.” You smile sheepishly. “Truthfully, I will be pleased after the wedding, when we can stop having them so frequently.”

She smiles back at that admittance. “I see. My apologies, for my presumption. I did not mean to insult you. I was only worried for you.”

“I know.” You place your hand over hers on your shoulder and give it a squeeze. “I thank you for your concern, truly, but please do not broach this topic again,” you plead, eyes darting beyond her once. You try for a casual attitude as you say, “I’ll have no rumors about my wedding being called off, thank you very much.”

“Of course, of course,” she hurries to reassure you. “Let’s rejoin the others.” You follow her out of the alcove and back towards where the majority of guests are congregated, past a few of the now open doors to the gardens. “I don’t think we’ll stay too late tonight—I’ve far too many letters to write in the morning, but I believe I saw Asher—”

Wherever Callalily might have seen Asher, you don’t find out. A commotion in the courtyard directly outside catches both your attention. In one of the courtyards off the grand hall, a knot of courtiers your own age are gathered. The shouting appears to be coming from one particularly drunk figure if the way they are swaying is any indication. The air has the sudden awkwardness of a group who had been having fun only for the tone to abruptly turn serious and uncomfortable. A small circle of space is forming around him, revealing another figure as well. One you recognize all too well.

“Dale,” you say quietly, immediately changing course. Callalily is only a step behind you as you cross the paving stones to the group. The setting sun and the newly light torches cause light and shadow to dance in the wind and by the heights, you hope that's all that’s causing it.

“…believe what I am hearing with these ears,” the drunk man is saying. He tugs on one of his ears for emphasis even as the other clutches his goblet. He turns to another and asks, “Can you Millie?”

“I heard it as well, Willie,” a woman sounding near as drunk as him replies. “Said he required an individual with a greater range of skills. A person more ree-lie-able.”

Willie scoffs. “For how long have you found me so inconsistent, Dale?”

“Wilhelm,” Dale’s voice is easily heard above the chatter around them. He’s clearly trying for calm reason, which you know won’t work on someone who’s clearly had as much as Wilhelm has, but you’re glad he isn’t upset. “You have had too much of your own gift and—”

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” he gives an exaggerated and very low bow you hope he can’t recover from. Unfortunately, despite a half step to the side, he straightens once more with only a mildly more exaggerated sway than before. “How inconsiderate of me.”

You slip through those forming the loose circle, recognizing them as various members of Dale’s traveling party. You come up on his left and murmur, “Lord Dale,” to warn him of your presence as you slot yourself next to him. You can’t help the hand that skates down his side, checking however briefly that he’s still in one piece and with no shadow tendrils to speak of. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, sana,” he replies, his dark eyes meeting yours for a second before they fix back on Wilhelm. They’re not even glowing, which is a profound relief, even if this lighting might excuse such a thing more than others. “Everything is fine.” His tone is still light enough, if anything it contains an apology for you having to join him in dealing with this problem.

You relax at his attitude, hoping that this is routine enough that this group won’t think it out of the ordinary. That it can be quickly handled.

“Is this your doing?” Wilhelm accuses and you look over at him to see him not glaring at Dale any longer, but at you.

You nearly step back in surprise, but Dale’s strong arm wrapping around your back helps you find the support to stay where you are. You’re still not sure what the argument, if there is one, is even about—let alone why he might think you’ve anything to do with it. “Excuse me?” You finally place the name and hesitantly identify him as, “Lord Wilhelm of Aliers, yes?”

“As you rightly must know!” he slurs back before gesturing emphatically with what must be a nearly empty goblet of wine given how careless he’s being with it. “Do not play coy with me!”

You think you were introduced to him the first night you were back on the estate along with the rest of his family, but you’ve not had a true conversation with him. “I do not know—” you try to protest before he cuts you off.

“Are you manipulating Dale into abandoning his friends?” He takes a step forward and Dale’s grip on your upper arm tightens. “Whispering in his ear until he betrayed his oaths?”

You open your mouth and then shut it, no notion of how to respond. What is he even talking about? Dale answers in your stead, retorting, “There was no oath to betray and you are well aware of that.”

“There might as well have been,” Wilhelm hisses and you finally remember that he had been one of Dales’—original Dale’s—choices for a position in the Northridge household. A training master of some kind until this Dale had reconsidered the intelligence of such a choice. Wilhelm takes another step closer. “How dare you, you meddling little pest.”

“Watch your tongue,” Dale’s voice has lost the mild veneer of humor he previously had. “Apologize to my fiance this instant.”

Before you can try to diffuse the situation as if it might be a misunderstanding, Wilhelm takes another gulp of his drink, which evidently was not yet emptied of its contents, and says, “Not a chance. I want, want an answer.” He draws his sword with a surprisingly clean motion and points its wavering tip at you. Even yards away, you do not appreciate the threat. “Is this your doing? Are you the reason he’s all, all, yeah? Did you convince him to abandon me and give my promised posting to another?”

“I did noth—” you try to protest.

“My betrothed has nothing to do with us or the posting,” Dale interjects, pulling you closer and now with his own sword in hand. You’re aware of the circle of space has grown around you. Wilhelm’s other friends don’t appear particularly inclined to reign him in, most just watching for the skeptical. You think you see two exchange coin. “And you shall apologize for the grievous insult you have paid to us both.”

Wilhelm notices his goblet is empty and that Dale’s own sword is drawn, in that order, causing his scowl to deepen. He shoves his cup into someone’s hand with a brisk order to fetch him another before walking closer to Dale into the growing space around the two arguing nobles and yourself. “Are we going to settle this properly? Or do you not care for such activities these days either? Domestic and cowardly, eh?”

You almost want to laugh at the idea of either of those words describing either Dale, but the tension and possibility of a genuine fight keeps any such more light-hearted responses frozen in your chest. You glance up to see Dale’s darkened expression. You feel the tension in his body as he says, “Do not push me, Wilhelm. I will answer you if you continue to do so and you shall not appreciate the result.”

“No,” Wilhelm cries, “it is you who will regret their actions.” And then he charges at the pair of you. Dale releases you, thrusting his cane into you hands and pushing you behind him in the same motion. You stumble into the steadying hands of his valet as he baits Wilhelm away from the spot you’d been standing. You absent-mindedly thank Mr. Murray for keeping you on your feet after the abrupt motion, but you can’t take your eyes off the fight.

The two circle each other after that charge fails and luckily for you, Wilhelm seems to have forgotten you exist. “There’s no need for this, Wilhelm,” Dale says, obviously still trying to talk his friend out of this fight. Wilhelm doesn’t even seem to hear him. Even drunk he proves to be an expert swordsman as he manages several near blows. You can see why Dale considered him for swordsmaster, despite his obvious weakness for drink. He manages a strike that gets past Dale’s guard. Luckily Dale is able to step back so it does nothing more than cut his vest.

It's obvious he’s unhurt, but you watch as Dale’s whole demeanor focuses, as he finally stops trying to prevent this fight. He’s graceful and controlled compared to Wilhelm’s swaying, fast movements. You can’t help but admire the picture he creates as he moves. You don’t fear he’ll get hurt, only what he might reveal, and surely a single duel such as this is nothing compared to the tournament. If you worry for anyone, it’s Wilhelm as his skill might force Dale to answer back more strongly than he wants to given his friend’s condition. Although, perhaps they are no longer quite that close.

In the end, Dales doesn’t bother trying to best a swordsman of such caliber, even if he’s soused. Dale seizes the first opening he sees and presses in bodily, catching and tilting the sword points to the left and locking hilts. Wilhelm sputters something about a foul while trying to get free only for Dale to send both rapiers clattering to the floor. Unfortunately with it gone from his hand, Wilhelm seems to remember how to use the rest of his body and he kicks out at Dale’s knee.

“Rotten cheater,” he spits as Dale grunts and tries to stay on his feet. “Why are you—”

Whatever he’s trying to say is cut off by the whole body check Dale gives him, turning his shoulder into Wilhelm’s chest to knock him back. Wilhelm stumbles, trying to stay standing, but Dale follows him. Wilhelm manages to dodge first one punch and then the next, but the third hits him square on the side of the head. His eyes roll back as he drops like a stone.

Someone catches him before he can hit the ground and Dale’s eyes dart around, as if looking for another threat to handle. You finally look away from Dale’s form and notice that the one who caught Wilhelm as he fell wasn’t one of his friends, but your brother, Douglas. In fact, as you look around you, very few of the original group is still present. Callalily’s whispering in the ear of one woman who is being escorted out by Callalily’s husband, who you don’t even recall joining you out here. Callalily walks over to another lingering couple after sending you a wink.

“I apologize for the spectacle,” Dale says to the dwindling group at large. He focuses on Douglas and adds, sounding bewildered at how quickly everything escalated, “He’d been in pleasant spirits earlier.”

“Clearly he ended up deep in the unpleasant ones in the meantime,” Douglas replies with a cheeky grin. “You two,” he looks right at the remaining couple who are currently tending to the drunk woman, “Millie”. They look startled to be addressed while the woman you finally identify as Millian of Sunston pouts at her empty goblet. “Would you be so kind as to guide me to his,” he jostles the still unconscious Wilhelm, “rooms?” Despite that his words are technically a question, Douglas makes it clear there is only one answer he expects. He’s always been rather good at that. Being taller than even Dale helps. “I think it best we aid these two in sleeping the night's events off in peace.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” the woman replies, grateful enough you don’t think she even noticed the implied threat. “My apologies, Dale, for my brother. He—no, no. I apologize profusely for his misbehavior and offer no excuses. We could give none that would be adequate.”

“Peace, Helena,” Dale says, sounding tired. “I should not have encouraged him to enjoy himself so in order to compensate for changing my mind regarding his posting. Regardless, his actions are not your own.”

“Nor yours,” she replies with a self-deprecating smile, “As he has proven himself worthy your reluctance in one foul swoop. I appreciate your understanding his disappointment manifesting itself as it did.”

Dale nods, uninterested in making the night’s ordeal into a longer affair with more obvious recompense as is his right as the challenged noble, the winner of the informal duel, and the owner of this home. For all her feigned confidence, Helena seems relieved at Dale’s easy agreement. You walk over to them, handing Dale his cane back. His eyes are as intent as they ever have been as he looks you over, even though you were not even in the fight. Once secure in your well being, he turns back to Helena. “Please do impress upon him my intolerance of slights aimed at my bethrothed, if not at myself. He’d be wise to apologize.”

“Of course,” Helena reassures him before meeting your eyes. “I beg his pardon and apologize in his stead tonight, my lady. He should never have said what he did and he would never have said them, if not for his overindulgence.”

“I understand and accept your apology,” you reply formally. “We all are aware of how too much fine wine can befuddle the mind and confuse the tongue.”

Millian scoffs at the word ‘confuse’ and Helena and her friend take the opportunity to hustle her away, leading Douglas to sling Wilhelm over his shoulder and follow.

As soon as they are back inside, you notice everyone else in this courtyard has gone as well, only Dale’s valet waits for you within the grand hall’s doorway and Callalily’s district purple and gold dress is evident through the glass window to the right. Grateful you’ve no more audience, you turn to Dale, reaching to trace the cut scored along his vest from Wilhelm’s rapier. “Dale, are you alright? Truly?”

Dale catches your hand in his own larger one. “I’m fine, sana,” Dale says, trying for a smile, but not quite reaching one.

Your disbelief must show on your face because he wipes his free hand down his face and sighs. “I am only tired, as we have discussed.” His thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of your hand, both comforting you and sending a pleasing tingle down your arm. He looks contrite as he says, “I apologize for instigating such a scene.”

“It was no more your fault than Lady Helena’s,” you say, aiming to reassure him. You hope he can tell you’re referring to both his handling of the situation tonight and his decision not to give the swordsmaster posting to Wilhelm in the first place.

You think he understands you, some of the tension in his shoulders dissipating. And yet, he still looks more upset than you’d like from the night’s events. He shakes his head lightly. “All the same, my apologies for the trouble I’ve played a hand in causing.”

“Dale, there’s nothing you’ve done that warrants apology,” you say as sincerely as you are able to.

He gives another small smile in function, if not in sentiment, and lets go of your hand. Reluctantly, you pull it back to yourself, unable to reach back out after he’s pulled away. You glance back inside the hall and try for a smile yourself, hoping to get everything back into a more typical mood. “Shall we return?”

“I’m more tired than I expected after that confrontation,” Dale confesses, shoving his hands into his pockets. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll retire for the night.”

You’re tempted to say that in fact you will not excuse him. You want to demand to know what is weighing so heavily on him these past few days, to shoulder the burden in some way. The most you can likely do is listen to him and he won’t even allow that much. All you need to do is wait three more days, you remind yourself. In three days, you’ll be married and finally alone with each other. You can finally have an honest, private conversation and start your partnership together. You can wait that long. You can. “Of course,” you allow, however reluctantly, “have a restful night.”

A sardonic smile crosses Dale’s face and you think he’s going to make a quip about his tiredness or how much sleep he requires, but then it fades. Do demons get nightmares? Is something else contributing to his exhaustion beyond the galas or the investigation? He looks up at the now dark night sky for a moment before he looks back down at you. He opens his mouth and you think he’s actually going to confide in you. In the end, all he says before walking away is, “I wish the same for you.”

[Part Twenty-Nine]

#my writing #story part #story: nothing's wrong with dale #nothing's wrong with dale #dale #slow burn #monster bf #monster romance #arranged marriage #osha compliant #terato #exophilia #its a long one - the longest one might say #my sister had no opinion about my choice of college and/or major #why do you ask? lol #don't you lov it when people think they know what you want and who you are and what u like better than u do urself?#good intentions #just a bit late #hope theres not too much monologing #hiding in the corner with ur sibling not-yelling at each other #on this 3 days before my wedding #gotta admire a man who can knock out a drunk dude harassing you #douglas also thinks he's funny #chap 2 of 3 brought to you by my week long vacation with all my siblings that just happened #can you tell?#stay tuned for the next chapter with more sibling shenanigans #let me know what you thought!

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jazzzzzzhands · 6 months

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Can you draw Wally plz??

on tablet?

Do I really need an excuse??

I Honestly wasn't sure what you meant! Because i have drawn him so so many times digitally BUT this one is special BECAUSE! Normally i do do my sketch Traditionally, But i chose to take this ask as a personall challenge to do the WHOLE thing digitally looky at my digital sketch!!

just like my trad sketches, it is just very very light. Im so used to drawing lightly because i erase a LOT oh and hey, while i'm at it, just take my ding dang time-lapse

ahahaha just in case you guys ever wante to watch me manually color and yes yes, do those shading lines by hand because i love them. oh and ty Ibis for having background elements bc backgrounds are HARD. (But putting the little stickers and bgs together feels like scrapbooking and its fun!!)

If you actually watched me draw, you may get motion sickness from just how much i move my canvas around lmao

#i feel like i took a day on the sketch with just learning process and ohh lasso tool!! i may get spoiled on re-sizing/moving #oh let me get tags #jazzart #jazzanswers #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home wally #christmas #santa #wally in a santa suit wally in a santa suit #ok i desperately need to do some lil christmas sketchies before its too late #but boyo i work retail and um im one of the boss ppl so i get thrown around a lot awaaaaaaaa #in case you guys were wondering if i slowed down a bit #i promise i PROMISE im still very obsessed and he lives in my head rent fucking free #i think a lot of artists are feeling a holiday burn rn #oh dang i skipped an older ask for this because i wanted the challengeeee #and to do a bigger peice #im so sorry #groovy is coming #ohhh and if i can make it in time #id love to draw groovy crimmus time!!#i loose track of time and days so easily #its a curse honestly #ohh going to rest now maybe eat

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brynnmclean · 12 days

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saw a post questioning shipping Senua and Thórgestr and started to reblog it with a tag novel-- felt weird about doing that since this is lengthy and potentially derailing, so making my own post instead. Spitballing under the cut:

First off, any time someone is like, "the real reason people ship this is because they find the dude attractive," this is SO funny to me as someone who doesn't find men attractive IRL and has fiercely loved Senua since I played the first game, like-- actually I find the dynamic between those two characters to be compelling and interesting precisely because of all the baggage between them re: their backgrounds, the rough (put mildly!) beginning of their relationship, all the things they don't talk about, and them finding a common enemy/common ground to work with. The explicit parallels between them stated in-game scratched an itch in my brain. The minute they pointed out the dark rot on his arm, it was like, "oh! hello there! NOW I'm interested in whatever your whole deal is" for me. Also, idk man, I too would follow Senua around after she knocked me into the dirt and then showed me a way to fight the giants that I very much wanted to fight instead of appease.

The idea that Thórgestr was part of the Orkney Raid that killed and mutilated Dillion is VERY interesting food for thought, even if I don't personally have that headcanon (surely there are more viking raiding groups than just the Bjorg). I think the Furies or the Shadow said something similar about Fargrimr (his kin murdered yours, you shouldn't save him, etc.) so I completely get that line of thought, but I think the game left it ambiguous enough that it's up for interpretation. Would I read fic with that premise? Yeah, I'd check that out. Could Senua forgive Thorgestr if his people were involved? Sounds fun to explore.

If (ha, when?) I write fic, I'd have to think more about it especially wrt timelines, like when did the Bjorg start specifically raiding for slaves for giant food sacrifices vs. killing people for resources and wealth? How far off are we from the old gods "dying" and the volcano erupting? Was it indeed a different group of raiders who made a deal with Zynbel, attacked Senua's home, and made the sacrifice at that time to Hela?

At the very least, I think there's a time jump between the end of Hellblade I and the beginning of Hellblade II since Senua wasn't alone on that slave ship and at least one of the (brief) survivors knew her by name. I wouldn't mind exploring that gap of time, too.

In any case I do agree that it would take a VERY long time for Senua to consciously catch feelings for anyone let alone Thorgestr with all their collective baggage. The idea of them having a relationship beyond friendship in the far off future of an AU where he survives is the only one that can make sense in my brain, personally. It would take time! Time they didn't get in the game! But I think there are a lot of different roads that could take, and some of them might be healthier than others. Shipping them certainly isn't forgetting or excusing what happened to Dillion-- or even mutually exclusive from still shipping Senua and Dillion. Or, frankly, also shipping Senua and Astridr, because I can see that ship too.

One of the nice things about all the details Ninja Theory didn't expand upon and that they left that ending so open is that the sky's the limit. I'm VERY interested in seeing fandom tackle this game as we get farther from the initial release.

#kate plays hellblade #senua x thorgestr #a friend did laugh at me recently and say there's always a weird guy i latch onto and i laughed back and said i'm a boy in my brain #i think i've felt that way forever and it's still true. i DO gravitate toward male characters #especially ones who are a bit starry-eyed over their female counterparts #anyway that's not what this post is about #it's more of me throwing thoughts out into the ether because i don't have the energy or time to write fic yet #but i am Thinking About It #what happens after the story left off? what if we changed ONE THING and gave them more time #i stopped using accent marks midway through this sorry i'm typing on a computer. my phone would catch them but alas.#i can't remember my video games tag #senua #thorgestr #hellblade #senua's saga #i'm really just excited to talk fannish things about this one #the first game was so neat and tied up that i felt no fannish inclinations beyond loving the game #but there's SO MUCH ROOM HERE with this second one #delightful #i'll read all the AUs even the sad ones #when it comes to thorgestr and senua i think thorgestr fell first and pretty hard but he doesn't talk about it until senua starts opening u #i really think those two are made for a glacially slow burn #maybe not if she becomes the tyrant seer. loved and feared.#could be quick and very unhealthy. ALSO compelling to me!#senua's saga spoilers #to be safe #these tags are about as long as the post. i'd better quit while i'm ahead.#hertan writing tag

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sun-marie · 8 months

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The Pale Elf, after everything 🌿

#I am not immune to bitchy pretty boy elf #and even if he can't feel the sun he deserves to still see the colors of Baldur's Gate 🥺#i have one more wip I'm working on and then I'll probably slow my art roll a bit #lest I burn right out #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #astarion ancunin #the pale elf #my art #sun-marie art #digital art #artists on tumblr #small artist #fan art #fanart #digital illustration

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miryum · 1 year

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Foundling Villa- Chapter 14

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp @multifandom-loser

Warnings: Swearing, uhhhh talk of war and..... FLUFF (aka kissing and YAY we’re finally getting somewhere!!!!)

ao3 link next chapter>>

A loud banging awoke you suddenly. You bolted upright, breaths coming irregularly. “What’s happening?!” Your covers tangled around your feet and you kicked them away.

“My lady!” Sara burst into the room. “Lord Jules is requesting your presence right away!”

The clanging continued and you wanted to cover your ears. “What is that?”

“Warning bells.” Sara helped you pull on your robe. “They’re sounding from every village.”

“Why?”

“Princess, I’m not at liberty to disclose that. Lord Jules will explain everything. Please, you need to go downstairs!” Sara practically pushed you down the hall and towards the steps.

It had been three weeks since you first arrived at Schumacher Estate. You had spent your time writing letters to Charles and Prince Verstappen and conversing with Jules and Pierre. As it turns out, Jules had hilarious stories about Charles as a child and all the antics he had gotten up to. Jules also had insights into the tensions between Redull and Enza and you spent many a meal grilling him on all he knew. Jules laughed at your concerns and assured you everything would be alright. He had turned into a much needed calming presence in your life.

When you weren’t arguing with Pierre, sharing tea with Jules, or writing to your husband, you were put riding with Lando. It helped take your mind off anxieties that plagued your mind and Lando commented on your quick learning.

“Steward Jules,” you bent at the waist, quickly righting yourself. “I was told- Charles?!” Across the room, there stood your husband. His clothes were in tatters and his hair was ruffled, dirt smeared on his face. Blood speckled his clothing and a gash tore through his bicep.

A look of shock crossed his face as you barrelled into him, clutching him tightly. After a moment, he carefully wrapped his arms around you. Charles felt you nestle into him. He paused for a moment, waiting for you to break away. But you didn’t. He took the opportunity to hug you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t know when he'd have the chance to hug you like this again. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes. I was worried about you. And I missed you.” You stepped back, becoming aware of the other people in the room. Jules hid his smile. “What are you doing here? And why do you look so… dishevelled?” You wiped some of the dirt from his forehead. Charles made a face and jokingly pushed your hand away.

Pierre laughed. “That’s a nice way of saying you look like a piece of shit.”

“Pierre,” Jules reprimanded him. It was then that the men remembered what they gathered for. The tension grew insurmountably and tense looks were thrown around. “Now is not the time. Charles, please continue.” It was then you realised that Charles had demanded you to be in the room before his announcement.

“Enza is at war.”

It seemed as if all faded away as Charles explained how Redull troops had stormed the Enza palace and taken Lorenzo prisoner. He explained how he had barely escaped, having to fight off half a dozen men just to get to the stables and find a horse. He explained how he saw his friends and subjects fall in a haze of blood.

He explained how Williams forces fought alongside Redull.

“Y/n? Cherié?” Charles stepped towards you, cupping a hand along your cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I can fix this, I promise! If I can just talk to my parents they’ll have to see- I mean they can’t just- but what of our alliance?” You shook your head and extracted yourself from Charles’ embrace.

Jules gripped Pierre’s forearm and whispered something to him. Pierre nodded, stoic for once, and followed Jules out of the room. You barely registered their exchange.

“Y/n,” Charles sighed and hung his head. “We- Enza doesn’t have an alliance with Williams anymore. I’m sorry to tell you.”

“What?” You felt your world slipping out from under you. Charles led you to a couch where your legs folded under you and you collapsed. “But how could they…? They promised. They signed a treaty, Charles!”

“I know,” Charles sat down next to you. He had his hands clutched in his lap and you desperately wanted them to be holding you- comforting you.

“Don’t they know the consequences?”

“They don’t care, Y/n. They have Redull to back them up. I… I don’t know if we have the resources to fight them.”

“But Enza is one of the most powerful kingdoms.” You felt your love for your home kingdom slipping away. Instead, it was replaced by love for your husband’s home. Enza, and its people, had welcomed you with open arms and only wanted to see you happy and comfortable. Williams had done none of those things.

“But how can we be powerful without the people?” Charles’ voice started to grow. He stood up and started pacing. Mindlessly, he ripped off his sleeve and wound it around his hurt arm. “Y/n, if you’d seen what I’d seen, you wouldn’t think a simple conversation with your parents could solve anything. I- I don’t know if my mother is alive or where they’re taking my brothers.” His voice cracked. “Helpless and innocent servants were slaughtered just trying to protect me. This cannot be settled over a cup of tea. Enza must fight back, but with what?” It was like he was having a conversation with himself. “They rampaged the villages before the castle. If they haven’t killed the knights by now, they will soon. It’ll take days before reinforcements and allies can come to our aid, and by then, Enza will be split between Redull and Williams. How they managed to get through Wolff and Haas without conflict is beyond me. I’ll have Jules send word to our allies and demand they meet here. It’s the only safe house we have left. Laren and Tauri are on our side, and hopefully Wolff and Haas. But without Williams…” he trailed off, glancing at you.

You were curled into yourself, still in your nightclothes. Your breathing was erratic and shallow. Your gaze was fixed on the opposite wall. And betrayal was written on your face. While Charles studied you, you slowly looked up to meet his eye. “Charles, what does this mean for us?”

It was not the question he was expecting.

“What do you mean, cherié?”

“We were the ones holding the treaty together. But now, with it null and void, what does that mean for us? For our marriage?” Charles hated the uncertainty in your voice, but he hated the sadness even more. The desperation.

“Y/n, I didn’t want to tell you, but because the alliance is broken, so could our marriage be. If you wish, you could return to Williams and be free of my name.” Charles couldn’t look you in the eye.

“You knew about this?” Your lips parted in shock as you stood to meet his stance.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I’ve known for three weeks.” His breath hitched, yet his voice continued to rise. “But I couldn’t bring myself to tell you-”

“Why?” You demanded, “Charles, this decides our future and I would think I should be a part of that! Why couldn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I love you!” Charles cried. “Because I love you and I couldn’t lose you.”

Oh.

“Charlie…” At the same time, it was as if your heart broke, yet filled with love. The hopelessness that rang out through Charles’ words was quickly masked by their meaning. “You love me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Charles chuckled awkwardly. He looked up to find you in front of him, hand hovering over his cheek. He wanted nothing more for you to close the distance and touch him. If you did, Charles was content staying in your touch as the rest of the world burned around him. He just needed you.

“I think it was when you showed up at the Foundling Villa for the first time?” You shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Or maybe during our carriage rides? I’m not sure.”

“What are you talking about?” Charles frowned, a loose smile on his lips. You decided that you liked the soft curve of his lips and the brown flecks in his green eyes.

“I’m trying to figure out when I fell in love with you.” You shrugged, finally letting your hand settle into his face. Your thumb brushed along his cheekbone.

Charles’ eyes fluttered shut and his breath was shaky, but his smile grew. “I like that. Wait, you… you love me too?” You nodded. “I- I never thought you would love me.”

“Neither did I,” you confessed.

Charles chuckled. “You called me Charlie. I like that.”

A deep aching filled your chest and you finally had a name for it: love that was so strong you could feel it in your bones. Little did you know, Charles was feeling the same way. “Can I kiss you?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“You don’t have to ask, cherié.” Charles smirked and you didn’t realise he could get even more attractive.

The kiss was chaste at first, but when Charles placed a hand on your waist, pulling you against him, it deepened. You wrapped your arms around Charles’ neck, desperate to feel more of him. With a laugh, he pulled away, pressing kisses along your neck. You joined him in quiet laughter as he started gently nibbling along your collarbone. You tried to hold back a moan when he ran his tongue over a mark that was sure to show in the morning. “Don’t hold back on me, cherié,” Charles’ chuckles rumbled through his chest. Heat flushed through your body.

“Wha- what of the war?” you asked. Your eyes closed as Charles started sucking on a new spot.

“Jules will- hmm, send out the letters. There is little we can do until then.”

“I guess you’re right,” you conceded.

Charles raised a brow. “Would you like to continue the wedding night?”

Your heart started beating a little quicker. “Lead the way.”

😁 😘 You’ll have to wait until the next chapter!

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obey-me-disaster · 1 year

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Devs try not to ruin Obey Me(challange impossible)

From no more lessons, daily chats and apparently chats from the cards to no more birthday events for the characters??? And half of this shit was not even communicated with us. They told us they will keep the game alive but it doesn't look like that...

I understand why not making new birthday events to some extent. Rerunning them became too hard so it was better to end it now, but they went about it in the worst way possible.

They should have made birthday events for the chatacters that only had like two(such as Asmo, Diavolo and Solomon and so in). It's not fair that Asmo didn't get a prince SSR like the rest of his brothers. It's also not fair that the side characters(aside from Simeon) didn't get this kind of SSR and new birthday URs. I understand putting a stop to birthday events, but they should have finished what they started

And what's worse is that the devs didn't tell us. We had to find out on our own and send emails to send to confirm it. They should have made a post about it, not hide it from us. Doesn't help that they put the birthday UR in a nightmare...at a pity of 200. Everyone knew they were greedy but this is quite disgusting, even for them.

I hope they won't shut down the og Obey Me when they see how many people stopped playing it for good reasons. There are 4 season worth of content and a lot of events and cards in lonely devil...

#this was just a rant #MAN THEY REALLY FUCKED UP #obey me #obey me shall we date #solmare #you better sleep with one eye open #i will still write for obey me #tho I am a bit burned out after everything so I will take it slow

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theatrescribbles · 30 days

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Marigold || Chapter 10 - Christmas at the Bambury's

To say that Sirius was over the moon to be asked to spend Christmas at Violet’s house with James and Marigold, was perhaps the understatement of the century.

“Are you sure?” he asked giddily.

“Yes Padfoot, unfortunately for the rest of us, Violet insisted on me “dragging you along”.”

Read Chapter 10 on A03

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James Potter, 26 year old Bachelor, wants to be one thing more than anything else: a father. Therefore, he decides to give foster parenting a shot. He then meets a little girl, who is set to change his life forever.

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months

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I'm gonna cheat because I don't listen to TS but you know how much I love our pair from Maroon. can you tell us which of her newest songs you most associate with them right now. any tidbits you feel like sharing

^ it's me pleading for special treatment because I love you

abi babe i will always give you infinite special treatment always. however i apologize for how long this is because, uh, this is the couple who i specifically think dominates my brain while listening to TTPD.

i've already covered "I Can Do It With a Broken Heart", so that one 100%.

besides that, though...

Down Bad. the entire premise of the song being compared to being abducted by aliens and when you're returned to earth being like "actually i liked it better up there take me back" as a metaphor for love feels very much like when you had a good relationship, something you expected to last forever, and it just gets taken from you. however, to spice things up - i think it works better applied to how eddie feels. the whole 'fuck it if i can't have him' is exactly how he feels as he's completely destroying himself in the aftermath. and just for fun, so you don't necessarily have to listen to the songs if you don't feel like it my love, i'm adding the specific lines from each song that i feel apply the most.

"how dare you think it's romantic, to leave me safe and stranded? 'cause fuck it, i was in love. so fuck you, if i can't have us."

^ it applies to both reader/sugar and eddie. first half feels very her, because he left her behind to not risk exposing her to a life that had begun to decay him. but second half feels very him cause... fuck it, ya know?

So Long, London. this one is about just being sad and mad about the end of a relationship, and that's where both eddie and sugar still are mentally. to build something so sacred up only to watch it be burned down by the other person. sugar is far angrier than eddie, though, since she's not really taken the time to work through how she feels with the end of it all.

"i didn't opt in to be your odd man out. i founded the club she's heard great things about. i left all i knew, you left me at the house by the heath. i stopped cpr - after all, it's no use."

also.... honorable mentions to the entire goddamn bridge, but specifically "you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?" and "i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place for so long"

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can). it's a bit of a spoiler, and a bit of a reach, but i think it's a good perspective from the others looking in. the media, but also specifically corroded coffin. this really only applies to post break-up them story-wise, too. he's wrecked himself, destroyed all that he was, and sugar is the only one seeming capable of bringing him back to what he once was.

"i can fix him - no, really, i can. and only i can."

loml. i guess what i'm saying is basically every single song where taylor got very vulnerable and terribly sad about the end of an important/long relationship. this one speaks for itself quite a bit because of the theme of the guy saying "you're the love of my life" repeatedly, only to leave. which is exactly what eddie did, in the grand scheme of things. and taking it a step further? the small implications of a breakup and attempt at rekindling? yeah, yeah that's them alright, your honor.

"who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?"

^ literally what they are doing as we speak ^

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived. this one i would mostly apply to all of sugar/reader's anger pre-reunion. that anger of a man who simply ghosts you. she didn't let herself feel the 'breakup' much, but she did go through some of the stages of grief - and she got stuck at anger.

"you kicked out stage lights, but you're still performing. and in plain sight, you hid. but you are what you did."

^ all his self-destruction when she sees it at surface level :) just seeing him as doing nothing more than throwing a tantrum :)

this is getting a bit out of hand now, but when it comes to the double album bit, there's even more. i don't want to bore you to death so i'm just going to list those songs but. yeah. this album felt very maroon coded to me. the losing and the anger and the sadness and the clinging to what once was. should've expected it, in all fairness.

from THE ANTHOLOGY, i'd say that 'the black dog', 'chloe or sam or sophia or marcus', 'how did it end?', 'i look in people's windows', 'the prophecy', 'peter', and 'the manuscript' are the ones that fit best for maroon. some are a stretch, some it's solely based off of one line that i couldn't get over, and some i just simply think it's the vibes. a true matter of the illness that is "they're my blurbos so i'll apply whatever song i want to them".

i'm sure we'll see a few of these as chapter titles going forward, including the anthology ones, so that'll probably be when i dig in a little deeper about specific lyrics. or when i post ominous music posts.

anyways if you made it to the end (especially you abi) i love you so fucking much and thank you for enjoying my absolutely insane ted talk i just basically did on how TTPD is very very sugar x eddie coded <3

#dear god i should've just linked the entire album huh?#TTPD (ghost's version)#abi will always get special treatment when it comes to maroon #if i'm writing maroon for only one person it's abi (and ash)#they actually own the rights to this fic at this point not me #thank u ily <3 #abi <3 #can i just say the fact that you aren't a swiftie but love this fic is so insane but also so beautiful to me ily so fucking much #just wait till you see what i'm doing to the next chapter because it's changing entirely from the snippets i've given actually #we're slowing down the burn a little bit solely because i reevaluated how i characterize this eddie and reader in my mind

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sisterdivinium · 6 months

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Category: F/F Fandom: Warrior Nun (TV) Relationship: Jillian Salvius/Mother Superion

"It was just as impossible as wishing for a sudden refreshing shower in the outskirts of sunny, suffering Madrid during a false angel’s draught, wasn’t it? If perhaps only a bit more indecent." In unrelenting weather, it's hard not to hope for the impossible...

#warrior nun #doctor superion #jillian salvius #mother superion #warrior nun fanfiction #narratives and similar #is this perfect? no. did i send it in time for the community challenge? yes lol #but there are a few bits i rather like in it!#i suppose -- and one day i'll have to write this out -- that a lot of this ship is in between the lines for me #i have this One long idea that would be a bit of a slow burn but apart from that it's all structured on its own to me #so i can just pop in select a scene and be like that gif that says now kiss lol #anyway. considerations for some other day. for now have this ficlet #once more initially posted to the fan_flashworks dreamwidth community. i do enjoy a challenge myself #idk why the word count isn't showing up on ao3 yet LOL but it's 2576 if that's important to you

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beeapocalypse · 7 days

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i love to play toys (think abt inane alternate timelines with mine ocs)

#situation in which cassius transitions further on into his life and ends up in a lavender marriage w jakov. jakovs got a place to go when--#--his dad dies and it isnt Just cassius+drahomír in the house when the beholder wakes up. far less of a slow spiral into possession+lies--#--and more their friendship falling apart bc of jakovs constant insistence that cassius do ANYTHING but fall into barenvilles own--#--relationship with the bug. either jakov goes down to the basement one night to yell at the beholder+gets eaten or after a couple years--#--he finally burns the entire house down w only rhe beholder in it (an excessive suspicion+fear of the eldritch rooted in his fathers own--#--superstitions)#other would be if fyokla was born a couple decades earlier and ended up conducting for the same orchestra chester works with. bit of--#--an ayalan double feature LOL

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mattodore · 11 months

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took me forever but i finally finished this couple thing for mattodore! @wldestluv-rs thank you for sending it to me 🫂

#river dipping #oc extras #theodore doe #matthias evanoff #a burning house to live in #echthroi #i meant to do this earlier but i wound up scrolling thru simblr instead and then was busy with other things #should i have done this for my other oc pairings too...? probably but then i'd have to take new character pics for them #maybe i'll update this in a few days with the rest... that's alessandria/delphi dionte/nicholas and imani/romeo... not that many but still #anyway while i was doing that middle section i blinked and was like man. this is all just matthias #i didn't want to leave any of it blank but i will say the cooking housework and driver sections aren't like. all the time.#bc matthias hires people for that. but at theo's apartment it's mostly matthias taking care of things bc theo is normally busy #and when he's with theo matthias prefers to drive them around himself...#and the transparency in the bar section is to show that it takes a long time for the bar to be filled to that point but it does get there #eventually whereas the solid parts are where they wind up just a few months into their..... situationship #also trying to pick a trope for them was SO hard and like. generalizing. like they're multidimensional!! you can't box them in like this!!#but in the end i just went with broad tropes i know are in their little story... the enemies bit really is totally one-sided tho #theo honestly just didn't like matthias bc again. theo makes snap judgments 🤷#and ugh... slowburn my beloved. but fr everything abt their relationship is slow and at theo's pace #the day i finally start writing echthroi out like fr. in novel form. i knowwww that baby's gonna be bare minimum 150k kdvjnjdknjh #...also this means the only thing left on the to-do list from the other day is to write the response to that anon asking abt mattodore #and their routines before bed........ lord. why is my brain like mush now........

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bucketsofmonsters · 2 years

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The Shapeshifting Detective - Part 1

cw: parental death, grief, slow burn, more tags will be added as the story continues

male shapeshifter x fem character

word count: ~4k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8

“I found him.”

She could barely manage the words, barely make any of this make sense, let alone answer questions.

“Yes, you said that already. I need you to describe what happened.”

“He was just…” She felt like she might pass out. Members of the police force shuffled around, investigating the room just to her left. Even the thought of it left her dizzy and disoriented. The sounds of her mother sobbing from across the room echoed in her ears. It was odd, she thought, that she wasn’t crying. Most people cried when things like this happened. Someone had said she was in shock, maybe that’s what it was.

The detective’s words pulled her out of her head and back into reality. “Katherine, I need you to tell me what happened, while the memory is fresh.”

“I don’t think I’m going to forget it anytime soon, detective, I wouldn’t worry about that,” she snapped. Grief turned to anger in an instant, the emotion eager to find something productive to do with itself.

“Katherine…” he said, more warning than sympathy in his tone this time. She knew better than to snap at him again.

“I found my father on the floor of his study, I don’t know how long he’d been there, it looked like he’d been stabbed. I screamed and now you’re here, I don’t know what more you want from me.” She kept pulling back, trying to recall it again, remembering and remembering. Surely there was something she missed, some clue. The person who did this was just wandering around right now while her father lay dead, that couldn’t be right. There must be something she could do, anything to rectify the situation.

“Do you have any idea who could have done this?” he asked, his patience clearly wearing thin, despite the faux sympathy he was attempting once more.

“If I did, I would have told you by now.” She couldn’t keep the frustration out of her tone. Why was he just sitting here, asking the same questions? Surely there were more urgent matters, things that needed to be done to find justice.

The detective just groaned, rubbing his temples as he did. “Perhaps I should come back tomorrow, when you’re less hysterical.”

The urge to slap him was overwhelming. So many emotions ran through her, begging for some outlet and this detective was making a strong case for it to be him.

She managed a strained, polite smile and even that was a miracle. “Yes, perhaps that would be best.”

He nodded and stood, eager to get out of her home

“Detective, can I have your name?”

“Detective Harvey Lewis, miss. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He was halfway out the door already when she called out to him again. “Aren’t you going to interview my mother?” She turned to see one of her maids comforting her as her body shook with sobs.

“If I couldn’t get usable information out of you, I certainly couldn’t get it out of her. Goodnight, miss.”

That felt unfair.

Before she could protest it, he was gone, eager to get out the door. Other police officers shuffled in and out but she couldn’t stand it any longer, being so near to it all, so she just left. She didn’t want to go to her room, people would look for her in her room, so she just found some forgotten closet and sat, waiting for morning.

Eventually, morning did come, despite how endless the night felt. She picked out on her dress, making sure it was a presentable black. Something plain that fit the situation. This would be her attire for the next year. A year of mourning for a dead parent, two years for a dead spouse, all written up for her, a guide for young women everywhere. She’d always thought the rules silly, surely someone could determine how long they should mourn on their own, but right now she appreciated the rules, having something set out before her. One year and then she was done. Was that how long it would take? The hollowness in her chest would be gone in a year, the flashing images gone, at least if they followed the rules of etiquette. She couldn’t imagine they did.

Her maid, Anne, helped her get dressed, uncharitaristically silent. Usually they talked and joked, they were close friends, but right now there was nothing. Katherine could feel her, searching for something to say but too unsure to try. She didn’t mind, it was better than the endless condolences she’d already begun hearing, words that she was sure would lose all meaning shortly.

When she was told the detective had returned, the numbness left and frustration took its place again. She knew she wasn’t quite being fair to him, that she was probably reading into his behavior too much, but it really felt like he didn’t care. The worst thing she could ever imagine was happening to her and he couldn’t even bring himself to care.

When she made her way down the stairs into the main hall, her anger was immediately overwritten by confusion. He didn’t seem to notice her, too caught up in either what he was doing or his own thoughts. What he was doing was holding a handful of flowers. At first she thought maybe he’d brought them for her family but she quickly noticed the vase that they’d been taken from sitting on a table in front of him.

She couldn’t remember if the flowers had been there before or if someone had already managed to drop off flowers as condolences. The water was dripping from their stems onto the floor and still this didn’t seem to ring any alarm bells in the detective's head, he just stood there looking down at the dozen or so flowers in his fist, eyebrows furrowed as they made a mess below him.

As he stood there, unaware of her presence, she got the chance to really take him in. His thick brown hair was shaggy, desperately in need of a good cut and some styling. Likewise, his face was covered in stubble, like he typically shaved but hadn't gotten around to it in a while. She didn’t recall his clothes looking this disheveled last night, his white dress shirt and long, tan coat looking like he’d wadded them up and then thrown them back on before coming over.

Somehow, this appearance did not inspire confidence in his abilities.

After trying and failing to figure out what he was doing for a few moments, Katherine cleared her throat and the detective whipped around, clearly startled. He relaxed as he saw who it was, apparently lacking the self-awareness to look embarrassed about the frankly bizarre thing she’d seen him doing.

“Can I help you?”

He dropped the wet flowers onto the table next to the vase they belonged in and gave her a smile.

“Hello, Miss Katherine. Are you feeling alright?”

Was she feeling alright? No, she felt about as far from alright as humanly possible, actually.

“As alright as I can be.” She knew her smile must look strained, a far cry from the practiced, measured fake smile that usually adorned her face but for now it would have to do.

“Have you confirmed that the flowers didn’t murder my father or do you need more time to investigate?”

For a moment he had the audacity to look at her like she was the one who was acting odd before his eye widened in recognition and flicked back to the flowers he’d set down. “No, the flowers are not high on my suspect list right now.” There was not a hint of humor in his voice and she wondered if he thought she was an idiot or if he was one himself.

“I’m Harvey, by the way.” He stuck his hand out towards her, expectantly. She took it and he gave it a quick shake before dropping it, still looking at her eagerly

She nodded, confused by what was occurring. “I know, you told me last night.”

He nodded, running his hands through his hair absentmindedly. “Yes, of course, just wanted to remind you. A lot happened last night, it would be totally understandable if you’d forgotten.”

“I’m not stupid,” she shot back, already on the offensive.

His hand flew up in a quick surrender. “I don’t think you are, don’t worry. Just here to ask you some questions about last night, is that alright?”

She nodded, leading him into the sitting room so they could talk.

He got situated, taking out a pen and notepad that she was certain he had not been holding the night before. She wondered if it was because he hadn’t been taking her seriously, hadn’t even thought to write down what she’d said.

As he sorted himself out, she took the opportunity to inspect him once more. He seemed much more pleasant than he’d been last night, had she just imagined it? Had his demeanor seemed harsher and more hostile last night, when emotions were running high? Or maybe she’d caught him at a bad time, although that didn’t seem quite fair, if anyone could use that excuse for their poor behavior last night surely it was her and not him. Either way, she was grateful that he’d been kinder today, she wasn’t sure she’d survive a repeat of last night. Or more aptly, she wasn't sure if he’d survive one.

Speaking of, he wasn’t the only one who’d been less than pleasant last night, although she was certain her snappiness was more justified. However, she needed to be on his good side, to build some sort of nonantagonistic relationship with the detective so she could obtain as much information on the case as she could.

“Before we start, I’d just like to apologize for how I behaved last night.” The second she started to speak his head snapped up, hanging onto every word. At the word apologize, his head cocked to the side, confusion written all over his face, a vacant, uncomprehending look in his eyes.

“Why would you need to apologize?”

He even made apologizing difficult. Maybe he wasn’t more pleasant than last night after all, swapping one type of irritation for another. “You were clearly frustrated and I snapped at you and that was unfair of me.”

He seemed absolutely baffled and a little upset. She hoped that wasn’t directed at her. “I was… frustrated. At the scene of your father’s murder. So you’re apologizing.” He sounded like the clarification was more for him than for her, a desperate bid at trying to unravel the meaning of her words.

She managed another polite smile, although she wasn’t sure how many more of those she had in her.

“That is what I said.”

“Right, I’ve gathered that much. Well, no frustration today so no more apologies will be necessary.”

She got the distinct sense he was attempting to humor her but couldn’t quite manage the energy to fight him on it any longer. It seemed more like a problem for him anyways, she was sure she’d been perfectly understandable.

“Can you walk me through what happened last night?”

“I have already walked you through what happened, I don’t know what more you want from me.”

For a moment he froze, looking like he was trying to read something out of his blank notebook. “Right, well, you’ve had some time to reflect and I’ve had some time to prepare…”

“Were you not prepared last night?” That was a great sign, she’d painstakingly recounted how she found her dead father and he appeared to not have even cared.

“Apparently not because I haven’t written anything down.” He was clearly frustrated but she didn’t think it was directed at her. He seemed to be getting angry at himself more than anything.

“Are you feeling alright?” She made sure to lace the words with what sounded like genuine concern, trying desperately to keep him on her good side despite her words. “Do you need anything? Some tea, maybe a breath of fresh air?”

The passive aggression seemed to go right over his head, his face softening at her words. “No, I’m fine, really. You’re too kind, after everything you’ve been through.”

If she was less upset, it might’ve been endearing, the way he seemed to be absolutely oblivious to any attempted rudeness. As it stood, she just wanted to get this over with.

“Alright, please just ask your questions then.”

He nodded, sitting up straighter in his chair, like he was trying to look more official. “Do you have any idea who could have done this?”

“As I told you last night, if I knew that don’t you think I’d have already told you? Is there perhaps another detective I could speak to? I don’t think this is getting us anywhere.”

Panic flashed across his face,

“I’m so sorry, it’s protocol and I want to make sure I have all the information and I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s protocol to ask the same asinine questions over and over again?”

Before he got the chance to flounder once more, Katherine heard her mother calling her name.

As soon as she entered the room, the detective stood up from his chair, back straight and chin up, as if he was standing at attention.

“Daniel’s here, he wants to see you dear,” she said, before noticing the other man already in the room. “Oh! Hello, Detective, I hope she hasn’t been giving you too much trouble.”

“Not at all, she’s been an absolute delight. I’m Harvey, by the way Harvey Law… you can just call me Harvey if you’d like. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“Well, I’m glad we have such a reputable detective on the case, I’ve heard nothing but good things. I don’t think we got the chance to speak last night”

“No, we didn’t. Actually, I was wondering if we could speak but I don’t want to cut short our time, Miss Katherine.”

She shook her head, eager to be done with the detective. “No, I think we were just finishing. I’ll go see Daniel.”

She hurried out of the room, glad for the excuse to be done with the matter. The walk over was the best part, having a moment to herself where she could breathe. Who knew a murder was such a social event, she just wanted to have a minute to herself but it seemed like the whole town wanted to talk to her.

She paused outside the room Daniel was in, taking a moment to check her hair and makeup. It felt ghoulish, making sure she looked pretty enough to take condolences for her fathers death, but she needed to maintain a good presence, especially now that she was on her own.

When she stepped inside, Daniel’s eyes widened as he saw her, a smile breaking across his face. “I came as soon as I could, are you alright?”

She nodded, already sick of the question. Surely people knew she wasn’t alright, she couldn’t understand why they kept insisting upon asking.

“Good, I’m glad. I was worried about you.” His voice held more sympathy than she’d ever heard from him before, which wasn’t saying much. He wasn’t so much unemotional as he was self-obsessed, typically unconcerned with how she actually felt. So long as she could maintain a vaguely pleasant facade, he was more than happy to accept it as the truth.

He leaned in closer, still maintaining a respectful distance. The two of them weren’t alone. They couldn’t be, it would be improper. A few people lined the room, giving them some space but ensuring that nothing improper happened and, more importantly, no rumors spread that something improper had occurred.

His voice was lowered when he spoke but she was certain everyone in the room could hear him anyways. “Honestly, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I heard he’d lost most of your money anyways, put the family in debt to some shady people. The police ought to have an easy time on this one, I say it’ll be closed within the week.”

She was normally better at regulating her emotions, but she couldn’t help but start fuming at his comments. Of course that was what he was concerned with right now, gossip and money, it was silly to assume anyone would be actually concerned for her well being, let alone Daniel. That wasn’t how things worked.

He seemed to misinterpret her anger as fear, which was probably for the best.

“No, don’t worry dear, the debt won’t matter, when we marry I can take care of you, you don’t need your father’s money.”

“And my mother?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ve got everything handled. And, silver linings, without your father in the way we can be wed. Nothing heals a damaged heart like a wedding and a steady hand, everything will be just fine.”

She was not in the mood to put up with him right now. She knew she’d have to do the rounds, see everyone who wanted to say they’d come by to check on her so they could give themselves a pat on the back, but she didn’t have the patience she normally did, especially not for this. How he could imagine she was thinking about marriage right now was beyond her.

But, at the end of the day, he was right. She didn’t really have a choice in the matter, she needed him, even more so after her father’s death. So she put on her prettiest smile and did her best to look excited.

“Yes, of course, at least we have that. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that now, I’m right here.”

“Yes, you are. And I’m so lucky for that.”

“Chin up, darling. Things will get better before you know it.”

And then he was gone. More pleasantries were exchanged, of course, but she went into autopilot, smiling and nodding and doing the bare minimum. It’s not like anyone ever noticed so it didn’t matter anyways. But eventually, he brought the thankfully short visit to a close, eager to get out of her home and the gloomy, grief stricken atmosphere that hung over the house like a fog. That, she could not blame him for. If she was honest, she wanted out too. The energy was suffocating.

She should go back and talk, hash things out further with the detective or comfort her mother but instead she ducked away. She’d earned a little selfishness. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could even step outside and get a breath of fresh air without anyone stopping her.

Her escape was intercepted by running straight into the detective, who had seemingly finished his discussion with her mother.

He seemed unphased by the incident. His arm shot out to keep her steady after the collision but already he was talking about something entirely different. “So, this Daniel, your mother said you two are courting?”

She pulled away from his touch, she was perfectly capable of standing on her own. “An original question! How unexpected, Detective Lewis.”

Unfortunately, she missed her mother standing behind him in the doorway. Her handkerchief shot down from her teary eyes as she gasped at her words. “Katherine!”

She spoke through gritted teeth, knowing she’d be getting an earful about this later. “Apologies detective, I’ve lost my manners.”

He waved off her concern. “It’s perfectly alright, I think you’ve earned a little rudeness after what you’ve been through. Speaking of, I should leave you two, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Her mother had already begun reassuring him, telling him that of course he hadn’t and he was welcome to stay for dinner but by then, she was already off, taking the opportunity to escape while her mother was distracted. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time she left.

Her decision not to sleep had seemed sound the night before, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to manage it anyways, but now that was catching up to her. She needed to rest, at least that gave her a good excuse to get away from everyone and stay in her room for the rest of the day.

She let out a sigh of relief when Anne entered her room, eager to interact with someone who could behave like an actual human.

“Hey, how’s your day been?” Katherine asked with a laugh, knowing how absurd the question seemed.

“Probably better than yours.” The girl gave her a sympathetic look and this one she actually believed. “At least Daniel came to visit, that’s exciting.”

She snorted. “Since when do you like Daniel?”

“Right, I don’t. At least he came and checked on you, right?”

“He didn’t come to check on me, he came to tell me how excited he was my father was out of the way and to inform me that we will, in fact, be getting married now.”

“Are you engaged?”

“Not yet but he’s definitely ready. He’s made it very clear that he doesn’t think I could survive on my own and at this point, I think he might be right.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Her tone was reassuring but it did little to help.

“Sometimes I think about what you said, about running off. I know you weren’t serious but it’s nice to dream about sometimes.”

Katherine could tell she was choosing her next words very carefully. In some ways she appreciated it, that she didn’t want to give her any false hope. “If you want to run there’s nothing stopping you.”

You. Not us. Because of course she wasn’t about to leave her stable life for some pipe dream. Who would?

Even what she had said wasn’t true, there was plenty stopping her. “Can we not talk about this and let it just be a nice thought?”

“Yeah, of course.” She quickly changed the topic, clearly not wanting to dwell on the issue. “How’d things go with the detective earlier? Did you tell him everything?”

“I did my best. He was quite odd, he barely seemed able to string a proper sentence together, let alone solve a murder.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons, don’t be too hard on him.”

Katherine gave her a once over, trying to figure out why she was defending the man. Normally, she was more than happy to gossip and talk badly about the various people who entered the household.

“Don’t tell me you fancy him, I mean he’s not the worst looking man but he was an ass the first time we met and incompetent the second time. There’s better men for you to fawn over, I promise.”

Anne’s face immediately turned bright red. “No, that’s not… I mean, I don’t…” After a few failed attempts to deny these accusations she opted to instead bury her head in her hands. “I’m just saying, maybe he’ll surprise you. I don’t know.”

“You’re being so weird, what’s up with you?”

“No, not weird.” She dismissed the idea as quickly as she could. “I’m just worried about you! Do you want to talk about any of this?”

Maybe that was it. Katherine didn’t have any real idea how she’d comfort someone who’s father just died, she couldn’t imagine it was any easier to figure out when it was her that needed comforting, she couldn’t blame her for that. “Not really. Can we just be normal? I should get ready for bed anyways, can you help me with my corset? I haven’t slept and I need to be sharp tomorrow when I start poking around.”

“No!” she practically shouted, eyes wide with panic and face flushed. Katherine’s heart sank, was she going to try and tell her not to investigate? She’d assumed that at least Anne would be on her side. Insead of protesting, however, the maid began to stumble backwards. “I just remembered I need to leave.”

What was going on today? She felt like the whole town had gone mad. “You need to leave?”

She nodded, backing away towards the door, running right into it as her hand grasped blindly for the doorknob so she could exit the room. “Terribly sorry, I’m sure I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t get into too much trouble, sleep well Miss Katherine.”

Miss Katherine? Anne hadn’t called her that in years.

She watched the girl leave and did her best to reach around and undo her corset herself. So much for acting normal.

And then, a few minutes later, like she hadn’t just run off acting like she’d seen a ghost, Anne walked right back in the room to the sight of Katherine trying and failing to undo her own corset.

She snorted at the sight, walking over immediately. “Please let me help with that. I swear Kate, you’re absolutely useless.” She said it with a fond smile, her hands immediately falling on the lacing as she’d done a million times before.

“Anne?”

The girl hummed in acknowledgement, clearly barely paying attention as she loosened the undergarment.

“Were you acting weird because you don’t know how to act around someone who’s grieving or because you think I killed him?”

That got her attention.

She turned, concern written all over her face. “When was I acting weird? I was kind of quiet but I thought you might appreciate the silence, since when does that mean I think you killed someone?”

She sounded offended at the accusation, which was fair, but Kate couldn’t think of any other plausible explanations for her behavior. “No, not this morning. Just now, before you left.”

Anne’s hand drifted up to feel her forehead, her moves slow and intentional, like she was worried she might scare her off. Kate couldn’t help but lean into her touch, it was the first genuinely comforting thing anyone had done since all this had begun. “I haven’t seen you since this morning. Are you feeling alright? When was the last time you slept?”

Great, apparently she was hallucinating now. Either that or her best friend was lying to her but honestly, she’d prefer the hallucinations.

“The last time I slept was before all of this, I’m probably just tired.” She rubbed her temples, trying to understand what was going on. It almost made sense, everything in the last day had felt like a dream anyways. She’d love to be able to say that of course she knew what was real, that she wasn’t hallucinating anything, but right now that seemed as possible of an idea as anything.

Anne squeezed her arm in quiet reassurance. “Don’t worry, I think everyone’s off kilter with everything that’s happened. I mean, the detective sees stuff like this all the time and even he seemed off, although I think there’s something not quite right with that one if I’m being honest.”

At least the non hallucination version of Anne agreed with her evaluation of the detective. She had a feeling that he wouldn’t be solving much. Even if he wasn’t incompetent, she couldn’t just leave this in the hands of someone else while she sat and did nothing. If she had to sit around, stuck by herself, she was certain she’d join the growing number of people going mad, if she hadn’t already.

She might not be a practiced detective but she couldn’t be worse than the one they already had.

#terato #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monster x human #shapeshifter #the shapeshifting detective #This fic is so self-indulgent lol #For those who don’t like slow burns I will still have one shots coming out #I wanted to get more one-shots out first but I’ve got major writers block and this was the only thing I could work on for a while #this ones a bit plot heavy at the beginning but I care about these two so much #More stuff coming soon sorry for the long wait!!

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miryum · 1 year

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 13

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp @multifandom-loser

Warnings: Swearing, I think...? Is that all?

ao3 link next chapter>>

“Do you hear yourself?” Arthur chuckled nervously. “Charles, you can’t be serious.”

“Maybe not, but we can at least spare a cavalry, right? Give the bastards a taste of their own medicine.”

“Charles….” Lorenzo cradled his head in his hands. “We are not sending our men over to Redull just because one of their Dukes insulted Princess Y/n.”

“He put his hands on her!” Charles’ tried to keep his voice from rising. It was proving difficult.

“And you punched him. All is fair,” Arthur said.

“I still don’t like it,” Charles grumbled and slouched down in his chair. Pascale wanted to roll her eyes at her son’s immaturity, but she was happy it came from a place of love. She wasn’t sure what your relationship with Charles was, but Pascale knew love-struck fools when she saw them.

“If it makes you feel better,” Lorenzo said, “I had Hasting removed from his title of Dukedom.”

Charles mumbled something under his breath, but his brothers couldn’t hear what he said. Arthur would bet his title it was a flurry of swear words. “I still want Y/n to have more protection and security,” Charles insisted.

“Understandable. As would I, if someone hurt my wife.” Lorenzo nodded and gestured for someone to step forward. “That’s why I’ve asked Jules to accompany her to the Schumacher Estate. You may instruct one of your men to join them.”

Jules bowed to Charles and while he felt a blooming of relief at seeing his old friend and mentor, Charles still had his doubts. He would protect you at any cost, even if it meant checking over details thrice. “And why not the Foundling Villa?” Charles asked. “She feels more comfortable there.”

“Because, as you may have realised, the Foundling Villa cannot hold the amount of guards and servants Jules employs. Princess Y/n will have plenty of space for her and her servants, if she wishes to bring them.”

“Lorenzo,” Charles cut his brother off. “What is the real reason? We both know Jules doesn’t need the amount of servants the Schumacher Estate requires. He could easily move into the Foundling Villa if he chooses.”

Lorenzo sighed. Charles took notice of the eyebags and Lorenzo’s stuck up hair from running his hand through it one too many times. “Charles, I didn’t want to tell you this in fear of you informing Princess Y/n, but we have lost our alliance to Williams.”

“How is that possible?” Charles gaped. “The entire purpose of my marriage is to secure that alliance.”

“No, the entire purpose of your marriage was to secure supplies. Your little… argument with King and Queen L/n disrupted that tense trust. The alliance was shaky to begin with, but now it has crumbled.” Lorenzo explained, “We don’t know if Williams will now side with Redull, but we cannot trust Williams. King and Queen L/n know the location of the Foundling Villa, but the Schumacher Estate is very well hidden, protected, and easily defendable, as you’re aware.” Charles nodded once and Lorenzo continued, “For Princess Y/n’s safety, I want to move her there. I would done it whether or not Hasting came onto her.”

Pascale places her hand on Charles’. “My dear, I know the question running through your mind.” Charles’ eyes pricked with the telltale sign of tears. He blinked hard, pushing them away. His chest ached as though someone had splintered his heart. Charles was terrified. Pascale took a breath, and said, “if she wishes, then yes, she could divorce you. There is nothing binding you anymore.”

Charles turned and gripped his mother. His hug was more of a plea; a plea for Pascale to make you stay. His throat burned with a sob, but he held it in. Advisors were still in the room. He couldn’t let the extent of his sadness show. Pascale ran a hand through his hair, quiet. It should be you comforting him. But Charles would make sure you never knew. He would do everything in his power to keep you with him.

Even if it meant lying.

The carriage bumped along and you cursed. The letter you were attempting to write was ruined by a streak of wayward ink. Pierre Gasly snickered beside you. You glared at him, but both of you knew it was fake. You could never be mad at Pierre. Charles had chosen him to accompany you for a reason- the two of you got a lot splendidly.

Jules rolled his eyes, sitting across from you as you ripped the parchment and started over.

My dearest siblings,

Is it true? Are you forbidden from writing? Do Mother and Father have such a grip over you that they control what you pen?

It saddens me that they have such an impact on our lives.

I’m moving, once again. I didn’t mean to- nor am I sure I want to. But Charles thinks it’s for the best.

Speaking of my husband, what do I do if I fear he’s hiding from me? He’s been reserved the past few days, and I don’t know why. Brenda or Robert, do you have any suggestions? I know Ralph won’t have any helpful hints. Ralph, I want you to know that I am mentally flipping you off. There’s no reason behind it, other than you’re an asshole.

Even if you have ideas or can think of a way to help, I doubt you’ll be able to write to me. I don’t know where I’m going. The estate where I shall be residing is concealed to a point where only Jules and a select few know where it is.

Whatever happens, I love you. More than Mother or Father could break or distance. I don’t fault you for their actions. Give Kaitlyn and Marie my undying love.

Your sister,

Y/n

“I can send that for you, once we reach the Estate,” Jules suggested. You nodded gratefully. Pierre reached over and snatched the feather from you. He scratched some doodles into the margins of the parchment, snickering. Jules rolled his eyes. You had to cross some of his sketches out. You deemed them too graphic for your family, even though Brenda would likely find them hilarious.

The carriage suddenly veered to the right and you cursed, slamming into the window. Pierre laughed loudly and you brought your heel down onto his toes. This time, it was Pierre who swore and Jules was the one to chuckle.

You peeked your head out the window and instantly had to duck, a tree branch almost whacking you in the face. “Where the hell are we?” The carriage didn’t seem to be heading down a distinct path. The “road” was dirt and mud, but the horses seemed to know their way. You thought back to your servants in the carriage behind you and hoped they were faring on this rocky path better than you. You had only taken Elena, Sara, Yuki, and Lando. Technically, you didn’t need Yuki or Lando to join you, but they had become part of your family. Lando’s face when you asked him to come along was worth it.

After another fifteen minutes of twists and turns on the rocky road, Jules leaned out of the window “to make sure no one followed us.” When he was satisfied, the carriage turned once more, carefully weaved through a set of trees, and the Schumacher Estate came into view.

It was a majestic house- if you could even call it that. Only royalty could look at the Schumacher Estate and see a house. It was shaped in a W with light brown stone constructing the base. The roof was a pale green, which you later learned was to blend in with the trees. Two large windows stood at the front and smaller ones peppered the sides. Two spires paralleled the house and what Charles never told you was that the spires were built specifically for defence. They were the perfect places to strike down an enemy, even if the enemy outnumbered you.

A small stable sat to the side and you instantly instructed Lando to give the horses water and comfort. Against Jules’ better judgement you had brought along Sixteen and Fifty-Five. You still had yet to name them.

As Jules’ servants were helping you move in, you caught a snatch of Pierre and Jules’ conversation. “How long will we stay here?” Pierre asked quietly.

Jules didn’t answer, waving Pierre away and giving him a stern look.

“Don’t do that,” Pierre grunted. “I need to know what you and the Leclercs have discussed if I’m to keep Princess Y/n safe. You can’t hide things from me.”

“Just like how we’re not hiding the alliance development from Princess Y/n?” Jules shot back.

You turned to glance at them and both men shut up. “What’s wrong with the alliance?”

“Princess, you needn’t worry about it. King Lorenzo and Prince Charles are working on it.” Jules smiled softly.

“But if they're working on it, then something must be wrong with it.” You frowned, stepping towards the pair. Panic started to build within you. What would this mean for you and Charles? “Does this have to do with Charles and I’s marriage? I- I know Williams has broken communications with Enza, but I’m sure I can help my parents see the error of their ways. It’s- it’s not over.”

“Princess, please don’t worry.” Jules reiterated, gently taking your elbow and guiding you into the house. He led you up two flights of stairs and into a large room. “This shall be your room for the time being. I hope you can settle in and find your stay comfortable.”

“I’m sure I will…” You were a little disoriented by the quick subject change and it seemed like Jules would do everything in his power to avoid your questioning. “But what about Charles-” You whirled around to see the door close. Jules was gone.

Sinking down into the bed, you wondered how things could go from content to uncertain so quickly.

You remembered the carriage ride back to Enza from Redull. Charles had spoken softly about his childhood and you, in turn, swapped stories. It had felt as if a dam had been torn down. But now, by not knowing what was happening, the dam was being built up again. You could do nothing but watch as people separated you and Charles; he stood at one end of the river, and you the other, as wood was piled on to conceal you from him. Water slowly filled the river you stood in and you were helpless as you began to drown.

Maybe you were taking the metaphor too far, but needless to say, you felt as if your timid connection with Charles was splintering. And you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alliance your parents secured with Enza. If the alliance was breaking, would your marriage with Charles break as well?

As you sat in this foreign room, you couldn’t help but realise: You missed Charles.

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