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munson-blurbs · 10 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Grandma's funeral brings out a side of Ms. Sweetheart that Eddie hasn't ever seen, leaving the two of them questioning everything they've built up together.

Warnings: funeral service (I tried to keep it as neutral as possible so it could apply to any religion), mentions of cause of Grandma's death, failed attempt at sex, pretty much all angst sorry

WC: 5.1k

Chapter 10/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's note credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

Eddie can’t remember the last time he went to a funeral. It might’ve been for one of Wayne’s friends, or a distant great-aunt twice removed. He doesn’t even own a proper suit for such an occasion; everything he’s wearing actually belongs to Wayne. He smooths down the creases in his black slacks; the material of anything other than worn denim is foreign against his legs. The elbows of his coat jacket are patched, and he slides his palms over them in embarrassment.

He takes a seat in one of the back rows, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while the other mourners file in. There’s a pit growing in his stomach as his gaze swoops to the coffin resting at the front of the room. The realization that Grandma was inside was almost too much for him to handle, and he’d only met her a month ago. He hadn’t known her when she was…herself, but he saw glimpses of her now and again. The last time he was over for a Wednesday night dinner, she rested her head on his shoulder as though she’d done it a million times. You’d mouthed sorry, but Eddie had simply smiled and let Grandma stay there as long as she wanted. If he was being honest, he felt special, knowing that she was comfortable with him.

Eddie’s eyes are only drawn from the casket when he sees you walk among your family. He immediately takes note of your face, normally soft and vibrant, now stoic and emotionless. It’s a sharp contrast to your relatives, who wear their grief through bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The hymn playing in the background fades out as a man speaks up at the podium.

Eddie’s barely listening, keeping his attention on you. He watches your mouth move as you recite the prayers along with the rest of your family, though he’s only half-listening to them. He’s never been one for organized religion, but he echoes the closing statement when everyone else does.

That’s when you stand up, smoothing down your dress at the back of your thighs, and walk towards the front of the room. You’re clutching a piece of paper in your hand, which Eddie notices is slightly trembling. He locks eyes with you, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and offers the smallest of encouraging smiles. You acknowledge it with a tiny nod in his direction before taking a deep breath and beginning the eulogy.

“Um, h-hi.,” you start, stumbling over your words awkwardly. You clear your throat and try again. “Thank you all for coming to honor and remember Grandma. It’s evident that she meant a lot to so many people.

“When I was writing this eulogy, I kept thinking about who she was as a person.” You don’t let your gaze drift from Eddie’s, and you could swear that he’s the only force keeping you from crumbling to the ground in a heap of grief. “For a lot of us, we wonder what ‘big thing’ will define our lives. The occasion that people will remember us by, you know? But with Grandma, there wasn’t one ‘big thing.’ Her life was a series of little kindnesses that she made sure to sprinkle into her everyday life. Like, when I was a kid, my dad broke his ankle. My mom couldn’t leave me home alone, so Grandma drove him to and from the hospital and stayed with him while he waited. She always took care of us.

“One of my favorite memories is how she would bring me a bouquet of flowers after every dance recital I was in. She’d be waiting for me by the stage door with a big smile on her face, telling me what a great job I did, even if I totally messed up…she was the best. All she wanted was for the people she loved to be happy.

“And that’s what I associate with Grandma—love. How much I loved her, and how much she loved us. Just a few weeks ago, she was sharing Oreos with the kid I tutor, and it reminded me of how she used to be with me.” At that line, Eddie feels his lip quiver, tears dampening his lashes, and he ducks his head to keep you from seeing him break. This time, it’s more for your sake than his, since you’re leaning on him to remain upright. “I encourage all of you to find the little kindnesses in life, and to be the kindness in someone’s day.

“Grandma, you are already so missed. I hope you’re seeing the values you instilled in each of us. Rest easy. We’ll take it from here.” The only sounds in the entire room are the heels of your shoes clacking on the floor and sniffling from nearly everyone else in the congregation. You take your seat quietly, bowing your head as though trying to hide.

The rest of the service is a blur of hymns and prayers; nothing, Eddie notes, nearly as moving as the eulogy you gave. He barely notices when the people around him start moving, keeping a watchful eye on you. You’re trying to blend in amongst your black-clad relatives, but Eddie has no problem finding you. He cranes his neck just in time to see your family make a right through the doors, while you pivot left.

Instinctively, his hands tuck into his pants pocket as he fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter. He has no idea what to say to you, no idea where to even begin. He needs a smoke or three to clear his head before he sees you and stammers out some half-witted acknowledgment of your loss. There’s no time for that; however, because as soon as he steps outside, he sees you sitting on the steps. It’s freezing outside, but your arms are bare, and Eddie can see the prickle of goosebumps lining your skin.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks, drawing your attention as he takes a seat next to you. He shrugs off his own jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a second thought.

You offer him a sad smile, tugging the coat so it covers more of you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the contrast of his body heat. “Trying to avoid my family,” you admit, placing your hand over Eddie’s. “Could you take me home? I got a ride here from my uncle, but I really don’t want to go out to eat with everyone.” They’re probably arguing over where to get lunch right now, acting as though their matriarch isn’t about to be lowered into the ground.

“You sure?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want to take you away from them or anything.” He can picture the sneers he’ll receive, a pit forming in his stomach.

You remain unfazed to the conundrum he faces. “Trust me, you’d be doing me a favor. I can’t…” your voice catches, so you restart your sentence. “I can’t sit there while everyone’s smiling and laughing. That’s what happens when an old, sick person dies; people don’t even try to hide their relief. I need…I need to be alone.” You tuck your lips inside your mouth, attempting to bury your feelings.

Eddie nods, reaching over to take his keys out of the jacket you’re now wearing. “Yeah, no, I get it. We can get outta here.” He stands up, takes your hand in his to help you to your feet, and leads you to the car as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing either of you need is to be confronted by one of your relatives.

The two of you sit in the car quietly, without even the radio on. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s had a silent car ride; he either has music playing, Harris yammering his ear off, or a combination of both. He keeps his hands at ten and two, internally debating whether or not to rest one on your knee. It wouldn’t be a sexual thing, not even close, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. His grip remains steady, the hum of the engine is the only sound.

You take this time to study him, taking in the crow’s feet that line the edges of his eyes, the tiny patch of stubble that he’d missed while shaving, the slight dimple in his chin. You try and turn before he can catch you, and though your efforts are fruitless, he doesn’t quite call you out on it. “Y’good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, smoothing a part of your dress that isn’t wrinkled. “Could you come inside for a little while? I thought I wanted to be by myself, but I really want you to stay.”

You really want him to stay. Not just that you need company, but you want him specifically. The notion sets all of Eddie’s nerve endings alight. “‘Course,” he replies, perhaps a bit too casually to cover up his excitement over the realization that he brings you some form of comfort.

When he pulls into the apartment complex’s parking lot and shuts off the ignition, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand again. It’s so much different than when he held it a few days earlier on your date, when there was an atmosphere of joy and hope. Now it’s like he’s pulling you along, like his lead is what has you placing one heel-clad foot in front of the other.

You unlock the door, accidentally leaving the key within its latch, and Eddie quietly removes it and places it on the table. His fingers ghost your biceps to remove your–his–coat from your body, but you just pull it on farther like a safety blanket.

“Y’want coffee? ‘M gonna put on a pot,” you offer quietly, already heading over to the kitchen. You scoop out a serving of coffee grounds for you, inhaling the hazelnut scent before dumping it into the basket, glancing over at him for his response.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he nods, and you put another scoop in before filling the carafe with tap water. With a flick of the power button, the Black + Decker rumbles and kicks on, and the drip drip drip of coffee fills the room.

You grab two mugs from the cupboard and place them on the counter. “How’d you even find out about the funeral?”

Eddie walks over, though he feels as though he can’t get close enough. He just wants to hold you tight and never let go, but you’ve put up some sort of barrier that he can’t quite interpret. “Oh, um, I asked Byers. I hope you don’t mind–I tried calling you, but it said the line was disconnected.”

Your cheeks burn. “That was Grandma.” Eddie looks confused–rightfully so–and you elaborate. “The morning that she…she got annoyed with the phone ringing, so when I wasn’t looking, she took the scissors and cut the wire.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I left the house for a few minutes to get a new phone, and when I came back, she’d fallen asleep and…” you swallow thickly, rummaging through the refrigerator for the tiny carton of half-and-half, “…and she never woke up. First call I made with the new phone was to 9-1-1, but it was too late.” Too late. That’s what the EMTs told you: I’m sorry, but it’s too late.

“Oh, Sweetheart. My sweet girl…” Eddie’s heart lurches, and he instinctively reaches out to you. One hand lays between your shoulder blades while the other rubs up and down your spine. He’s careful not to let it drop too low, never going past the small of your back. Though you’re pressed flush to his chest, there’s still a strange disconnect between you.

Despite every urge you have to cling to him, you pull away and shove a teaspoon into the sugar bowl, sliding it towards him on the counter. “S’okay. I mean, it’s not, but…they said she’d had a heart attack. If I didn’t get the phone, I wouldn’t have been able to call for an ambulance anyway.” The dripping of the coffee maker slows as it finishes brewing. “Only thing I could do is go back in time and stop her from cutting the wires, and Melvald’s was all outta time machines,” you joke, but it falls flat.

Eddie frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the countertop. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pretend like you’re alright,” he explains, voice hardly louder than a whisper. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

You feel an anger rising within you, though you’re unable to pinpoint its origin. “I am alright,” you insist through gritted teeth.

Eddie shakes his head, peering at you through his impossibly long eyelashes. “It’s okay to be sad–”

“Don’t you get it, Eddie?” You cut him off with a snap, slamming the coffee pot down so harshly that it almost cracks. “I’m not sad. I’m not relieved. I’m not anything. My grandma just died, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing! It’s like I’m some kind of monster.”

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” He hugs you again, holds you even tighter than before as he kisses the top of your head. “You’re not a monster, ‘kay? I promise you.”

You look up at him, not quite believing his words, but you press your lips to his. He kisses you back gently; timidly even, but you deepen it and graze his tongue with your own. Your left hand weaves its way through his messy curls and your right fumbles with his belt buckle, but you’re unable to unhook the clasp before he steps back.

“What’re you–” His eyes widen and he puts his hands up to avoid touching you, clearly confused by your behavior. If you had the capacity to be honest with yourself, you’d admit that you’re not sure why you’re doing this, either.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, trying to reconnect your lips with his, but he just pulls away again. “Please, I…I need this. I need you.”

“If we sleep together for the first time right now, while you’re like this, you’ll regret it,” he says.

You don’t deny the accusation; instead, you double down on it. “Okay, so I’ll regret it! I’ll feel regret, but at least I’ll feel something!” Your trembling fingers brush against his shirt, trying to grab onto it and bring his body to you, but he turns with a scoff.

“You’d really be okay with that?” There’s unmistakeable anger in his tone, but it’s laced with something more than that; something that sounds more like hurt. “Regretting our first time together?”

“Didn’t we almost fuck on your couch the night we met? You didn’t even know my last name. You barely knew my first name.” Your words are biting, thick with malice. “When did you become so averse to meaningless sex?”

“Meaningless?” Eddie balks, digging his fingernails into his palms until they leave crescent-shaped marks. His lips contort into a perplexed grimace as he formulates a response. “I, um, I gotta go. I’ll call you–”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that line before, and I’m not falling for it again.” You can’t stop the words before they’re tumbling from your mouth, and you can’t take them back. “Shit, Eddie–”

“Just—don’t say anything else, ‘kay? I’m leaving.” He turns around, digging into his back pocket. “This is for you. From me and Harris.” He tosses a piece of notebook paper, folded into fourths, onto the end table and closes the door with a slam.

You stand there, dumbfounded at what just occurred–mostly at your own actions. When you move towards the paper, you realize that you’re still wearing Eddie’s suit jacket, and you yank it off and throw it to the ground, leaving it in a heap. You open the note and read, vision blurred from the tears threatening to spill over.

The innocent kindness of a little boy is all it takes for you to break down and cry, muffling your sobs in your palms though there isn’t anyone around to hear them. Grandma was gone. You’d chased Eddie away with the same vitriol he’d spewed at you that day at the record store. You’re really, truly alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you chant to no one in particular. You’re sorry to Grandma, for leaving her home alone. You could’ve asked Jess to run out and get a new phone, but you’d needed a break from Grandma’s anger that was always directed towards you. That morning, after you’d discovered the cut phone line, there had been another argument over taking her medication, and she yelled “I HATE YOU!” at the top of her lungs. Then she sat at the table and ate a bowl of cereal like nothing had happened. Instead of taking a deep breath and brushing it off, you’d grabbed your keys and headed to RadioShack. You could’ve driven there, it would’ve made the trip much faster, but you’d decided to walk. The fresh air would do you good, you told yourself, pushing away the full truth of the matter: you’d desperately needed to be away from Grandma. When you got back, she was laying on the couch, and you would’ve sworn she was only sleeping…

You’re sorry to Eddie. Sorry that he’d wasted his time with someone who resorted to dredging up the past as soon as she felt an ounce of anger and rejection. Someone who insisted that he could trust her and then promptly shattered that rapport once he’d let his guard down.

And for a split second, you allow yourself to feel sorry for you. Sorry that you couldn’t even grieve properly without feeling like you didn’t deserve it, because if you were home, Grandma might still be alive.

You look down at the card one more time, choking out a laugh through your tears at Harris’s offer to share his grandpa. It dawns on you that you’ll either have to stop tutoring him or continue to see Eddie on a weekly basis. Everyone who comes in contact with me gets entangled in my problems, you note miserably. Eddie’s finally getting his life together and I’m fucking it all up. He deserves better than me.

Maybe it’s a good idea to leave Hawkins and go back home, at least for the holidays. You’re not sure what type of celebrations the family will muster up, but it’s better than being alone with your thoughts. And if you never return, that might be best for everybody.

The bell above the drugstore door chimes as Eddie pushes his way in. He smoked out his remaining cigarettes on the drive over, and he’s desperate for another pack. He makes a beeline for the back wall, plucking his usual Camels from the display. “Perfect,” he mutters, though his lungs would certainly disagree.

As he shuffles towards the cashier, he spots a familiar face in one of the aisles. His lurking cowardice screams at him to run away, but he shoves it deep down and talks anyway. “H-Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Jeff turns around, first bewildered at who’s speaking to him, then tensing up when he sees Eddie standing before him. “Can’t complain. Just getting some of these prenatal vitamin things for Viv,” he replies tersely, shaking the bottle to emphasize his statement.

There’s an awkward silence before Eddie speaks again. “Look, um, I’m really sorry about what happened at our last show.” He rubs the back of his neck and winces at the memory. “What I said, what I didn’t say…you’re gonna be a great dad, dude. Like, the best. I was just jealous, but that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.”

“Jealous?” Jeff cocks an eyebrow incredulously, willing Eddie to continue.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, shamefully averting his gaze. “You’re bringing a kid into a stable household, and I couldn’t do that for Harris. I don’t regret having him, of course, but I’ll always feel guilty about the shitshow he was born into.” He taps the pack of cigarettes on his palm, biting his lower lip to shut himself up. “Anyway, I gotta get home—”

“Eddie Munson?” He turns around to see a young woman standing behind him. Her low-cut top shows off the top of her breasts, cleavage pushed up by a bra, and her jeans hug every curve. She purses her pink-glossed lips together in a flirtatious smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m Lisa.” She says this like Eddie should already know this, and he’s embarrassed to admit to himself that he can’t place the name or face. “We hooked up last summer at the Hideout? In the men’s room?” Lisa lowers her voice seductively to whisper that detail. “I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah.” There have been multiple men’s room hook-ups, but he’s not about to play detective to figure out exactly who she is, so he plays along. “The band’s been on a bit of a…hiatus, I guess.” From his peripheral vision, he can see Jeff ducking his head, and his cheeks burn with the truth.

Lisa juts out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, though Eddie knows it’s all for show. “That’s too bad.” She lets her hand rest on his chest, leaning into him and twirling a strand of his hair around a polished fingernail. “If you’re not busy tonight, I’d love to have you over for drinks and…dessert? Recreate that night at the bar, minus the urinal?”

Eddie moves her arms from his vicinity, putting a necessary space between them. “Um, n-nah. No thanks,” he clarifies. “I’m, uh, kinda involved with someone, so…”

She remains undaunted, a small chuckle escaping her throat. “I can keep a secret. She doesn’t have to know.” She takes another step forward to close the gap, and he’s so goddamn tempted, but he shakes it off. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen between you and him, but he knows he’s not going to sabotage any potential relationship.

“Well, I’ll know,” he retorts, “and I’ll feel like shit about it.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Your loss.” She pivots on one heel and mumbles something under her breath that Eddie doesn’t even bother to interpret.

Jeff looks at Eddie with an amused grin as he shifts his weight from one side to the other. “So, you’re involved with someone?” He knows from what Jess has told him that Eddie went on a date with you a few days ago, but he couldn’t gauge the seriousness of the situation.

“I think so. At least, I was, until about fifteen minutes ago.” He relents and fills Jeff in about everything that happened, from your conversation over steaming coffee mugs, to the amazing kiss you’d shared as snowflakes collected on your eyelashes, to the unexpected confrontation after Grandma’s funeral today.

Jeff sighs, but it’s one of sympathy, not exasperation. “You did the right thing,” he says finally.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeff laughs, punching him playfully on the arm. “I’m serious. And you did the right thing just now, too, with that groupie.” He clears his throat. “Viv’s baby shower is in a couple weeks. Ladies only, y’know, but I could use some help loading all the gifts into the car. And we could grab some lunch beforehand, if you want.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, that would be great. Might have to let Harris tag along, if that’s all right.” He doesn’t want to keep asking Wayne to babysit, no matter how much the old man insists that he doesn’t mind.

“Of course. You know that little man is always welcome.” Jeff says, walking towards the register. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Eddie hesitates, letting his friend pass him by a few paces before he calls out. “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do about…” Eddie trails off, unwilling to finish his sentence. He feels absolutely ridiculous having this conversation in the middle of the drugstore, but he’s desperate not to fuck this up further.

Jeff scratches at his stubble with his free hand, contemplating the options as only someone who’s been in a long-term relationship and hasn’t had to navigate the nuances of a fresh relationship in ages can. “Give her some time; a few days, at least. She’s going through a lot. She needs her space, y’know, to figure things out.”

It’s not the answer Eddie was hoping for; patience has never been his forte. He wishes that Jeff would have told him to chase after you, to go get the girl and make sure she knows how much she means to him. But he knows that his friend is right, and he acknowledges his response with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

“See ya around, Ed.”

Eddie unlocks his apartment door, new pack of cigarettes in one hand and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s tucked under the other arm. He doesn’t usually splurge on ice cream, but every romantic comedy cliche has instructed him that it’s the perfect remedy for heartbreak. If that’s even what this is, he thinks, but he knows it’s true. After doing everything in his power to prevent it, he’d allowed you to break his heart. And as he shoves a spoon into the container of Devil’s Food Chocolate, it dawns on him that he’d do it all again.

He’d come to your rescue and pick the lock of Grandma’s bedroom door. He’d sit around the table and eat pizza with you, Harris, and Grandma every Wednesday night. He’d drive to your house with store-brand cookies and watch cheesy Thanksgiving movies with you just to see the smile on your face. He’d take you out for coffee and kiss you in the snow a thousand times over. And he’d go to Grandma’s funeral and drive you home and turn down your offer for sex and break his own fucking heart again and again if it meant protecting you.

He shimmies out of his starchy dress pants and unbuttons his shirt, leaving himself in just a white undershirt and his boxers as he sinks deeper into the sofa. He reaches over for the remote–now that he works when Harris is in school, he rarely has time to watch something that he actually enjoys–and notices the phone’s red flashing light indicating that he has a new voicemail.

He presses play with a clumsy finger on the button, expecting Wayne’s gruff voice or a reminder for an overdue bill. When he hears that it’s you, he sits up straight, nearly dropping his ice cream.

“Hi, Eddie. It’s me. I’m so sorry for what happened earlier. I’m sure you’re probably mad, but I just want you to know…it wouldn’t have been meaningless. It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.” You take a deep breath. “I’m going back home for the holidays. Um, I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back, but before I leave, I had to apologize for what I said. You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that. Have, um, have a nice holiday. Okay, bye.”

Eddie remains still, a loud silence enveloping the room once the machine relays that he’s reached the end of new messages. He’s dissecting every word you’d uttered, replaying them over and over.

It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.

So you’d felt it, too; that spark much stronger than the usual lust that overcomes him during hookups. And while he’d tried to convince himself that he’d only asked you to cuddle, had you stay over out of post-sex, post-show delirium, he can’t deny the truth any longer.

He’d asked because he felt comfortable around you, like he could hold you forever and whisper secrets that scare him to even admit to himself. Maybe it was because you’d seen Harris’s car seat that night and hadn’t run for the hills, or maybe it was the way you’d kissed him like he was worth savoring. And the morning after, when he’d all but chased you out of the apartment…Christ, you didn’t deserve that.

I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back.

The ‘when’ he could handle, but that ‘if’ was a weight on his chest. He questions his actions for a moment–should he have slept with you? Showed you how wanted and cherished and safe you were with him? Given your mind a chance to wander from the grief choking it? But Jeff said he had done the right thing, and considering the man was engaged with a baby on the way, Eddie figured he had to know something about women.

You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that.

Is he? He’s certainly a better man than when you’d first met him, but is he actually a great guy? He’d bought you coffee and didn’t fuck you when you were too vulnerable to truly consent–is that what constitutes greatness, or is he just a step above a piece of shit?

And, of course, part of him is angry. Not only because you were so easily willing to use him–although that realization definitely stings–but mostly because you’d thought he’d want to. After everything you two had been through, did you truly believe that he’d be unbothered? That he’d throw away all of that progress just to get his dick wet? Is that how little you think of him? Eddie doesn’t want the answer.

The ice cream is melting, so he forgoes the spoon and just takes a swig from the pint. He licks the chocolatey residue from his lips before standing up to put the carton in the freezer. Tacked onto the refrigerator is Harris’s picture from Halloween where Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart are holding hands.

He plucks it from under the magnet, staring at it intently. The memory of his son and his uncle asking him about you, that pretty like a princess remark, the unfurling realization that he felt things for you that he’d thought he was incapable of feeling. He never should have taken their ribbings, inadvertently getting his hopes up that there was something there worth pursuing.

Without thinking, Eddie crumples the paper in his fist, crushing the family portrait into a ball. “Shit,” he mutters, placing it on the table and smoothing it out as best as he can. His hands glide over the drawing, rubbing over every crease until it looks good as new and Harris will be none the wiser.

But Eddie knows what’s been destroyed. What he doesn’t know is whether or not it can be smoothed out.

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lychee02 · 6 months

Text

The Princess of Perthshire

Chapter 1

Pairing- Tommy/OFC

Sophia Duleep Singh was a real person but this character is a HIGHLY fictionalized version of her.

Warnings- Eventual smut

This begins after the end of season 5.

All feedback is welcome :)

Aberama Gold’s funeral was no different from John’s. The mourners followed the vardo into a field where it was lit on fire. The weather was chilly, but not unbearably so, and the sun was shining, and Polly hated him- actually, everyone hated him. Ada avoided his gaze and only nodded when he greeted her. Lizzie gave him one-word replies. Michael glowered silently. Even Arthur and Johnny Doggs avoided meeting his gaze. He was the epicenter of every negative emotion in that crowd.

They all blamed him for Aberama’s death. Tommy understood; he blamed himself too. He wished they would scream at him. He preferred screaming to silence and was almost grateful when Polly violently yanked on his arm.

“Who the fuck are they?” she spat, tilting her head at the two men standing at the edge of the field in long coats.

“I have a job,” he said. Polly’s hand fell from its place gripping his arm, but her gaze did not waver. Tommy saw only a blur of motion in his peripheral vision before her hand met his cheek with great force.

“I think we’ve suffered quite enough from your jobs,” she hissed. She glanced behind him at the Arthur and Johnny's approaching figures and gave a sardonic laugh. “I’ll start preparing the double funeral now.”

“Pol,” Arthur began, but Polly cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“Just go,” she said.

Tommy felt a lump in his throat as he watched her walk toward Aberama's burning body. He raised his fist to his mouth and coughed.

“Ready, boys?

.........

Tommy almost laughed when he awoke on the floor of a dingy shed, Johnny and Arthur lying next to him. His plans did not work anymore - although this one was not even technically his plan.

The job was supposed to be a simple assassination- in and out of a three-star hotel. Johnny Doggs was the getaway driver and Arthur stood as backup in case anything went wrong. So much for that.

“What the fuck happened?” Arthur mumbled, feeling for his gun. Their coats and caps, and even their shoes and socks were gone. The shed was empty and though there were no windows, cracks between the wood boards allowed moonlight to enter. So, they were outside. Tommy tried to open the door, but it was locked.

“Should we try to break it down, Tom?” Arthur said. But the words had barely left his mouth when the door opened and two men with guns entered the room.

“Good morning gentlemen,” said the larger of the two. His dark hair was combed neatly, and his shoes shined. “So sorry we couldn’t get you nicer accommodations, but we wanted to take precautions with the Peaky Blinders.”

Arthur and Johnny exchanged glances, expecting Tommy to take the lead. But to their surprise, he said nothing. He looked down at the ground.

“No precautions can save you when you mess with the Peaky fucking Blinders,” Arthur snarled finally. The man looked unimpressed.

“So,” he said. “Who hired you?”

Tommy ruffled his hair. “No introduction?”

“Apologies, but I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr. Shelby.”

Before Tommy could reply there was a knock on the door. The smile fell from the man’s face. “We’re in the middle of an interrogation!” he shouted.

A slip of paper came from underneath the door. The second man read it with furrowed brows and showed it to the first.

“Looks like we’ll have to cut this meeting short. Sorry boys.”

He opened the door wide and pointed to Johnny and Arthur.

“You two are free to leave, but you-” he shoved his finger at Tommy “-you’re coming with me.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Johnny asked.

To all of their shock, the two men return their clothing and weapons.

“We’re not going to do anything to him. He has an appointment with the Princess.”

Tommy had assumed that “Princess” was some mob boss’s alias - a very stupid alias in his opinion, but maybe he was just getting old, as Michael and his new wife thought. It was not until the driver turned the car into Hampton Court that he realized he was meeting a real princess.

The car stopped in front of a brick home surrounded by a low iron gate. Though it was late in the evening, he could see that it was large - not as large as Arrow house, but certainly not a middle-class home, and well taken care of.

“I have been instructed to wait here and drive you home,” the driver told him as he exited the car. Tommy nodded and made his way up the path. Above the front door was a plaque that read MICHAEL FARADAY.

A middle-aged man with a mustache answered the door.

“I’m Thomas Shelby,” Tommy told him.

“Ah,” said the butler. “Come in. The Princess is waiting for you.”

He frowned when Tommy declined to give him his coat and hat but wordlessly led him into a dark sitting room, lit only by a few torches on the walls and the blinding strokes of yellow and orange that came from the enormous fireplace.

The butler, a few steps ahead of Tommy, leaned down to speak to the woman sitting before the fire. “This is Thomas Shelby, ma’am,” he said in a hushed voice.

Tommy heard a soft exhale. Through the shroud of smoke, he saw first the red velvet, then the mass of dark curls. She removed a cigarette from between her lips and released a plume of smoke before flicking the ash from the burning butt onto the tray beside her.

“This is Princess Sophia Duleep Singh,” the butler said to Tommy. The only other royalty Tommy had ever met were the crazy Russians and he stood uncertainly for a moment until the Princess spoke.

“Let him sit,” she said. Her voice was gravelly, and her words were clipped in the way that many of the other MPs were. Not until the butler had shut the door behind him, did she finally look directly at Tommy with the biggest pair of eyes he had ever seen. The dark irises turned orange where the light touched them, giving him the sense that he was staring directly into fire.

“Tea?” she asked him.

“No,” Tommy said. After a pause he added a perfunctory “thank you.”

He noticed her eyeing his coat, but he made no move to remove it nor his flat cap, daring her to say something. She cleared her throat.

“Thomas Shelby, you have friends in high places,” she said finally.

“Not as high as you, I imagine, Princess,” Tommy replied.

She shrugged. “We’re not here to talk about me, though. Apparently, you’ve fallen in with the wrong crowd?”

Tommy could not help the snort that came from him, and the Princess furrowed her brows, looking almost offended.

“Am I wrong?” she asked

“It’s just…” Tommy rubbed his jaw. “Most would say that I am the wrong crowd one falls in with.”

She tilted her head and peered at him like a calculating hunter. “Is that so? Well, no matter, I just want to know that I wasn’t mistaken in saving your life. So, Thomas Shelby, you attempted to assassinate Mahatma Gandhi.”

“I’ve no idea who Mahatma Gandhi is.”

Princess Sophia rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do.”

“It was worth a shot,” Tommy shrugged. “How did you know?”

“Winston Churchill himself rang me. Your kidnappers are old acquaintances of mine; he practically begged me to talk to them for you.”

My friend in high places, Tommy thought. He had a hard time picturing Winston Churchill begging for anything, although he supposed he had been useful to him a number of times over the years.

As if reading his mind, Princess Sophia smirked and picked away at a piece of non-existent fluff on her dress. “You must have been a good subordinate to him.”

Her words were intended to sting but Tommy did not react.

“For someone who cares for Gandhi, you took quite a risk in freeing his would-be killer,” he said.

She took a drag from her cigarette. “Do you have any idea how easy it would be to have you killed?”

Tommy raised a brow, actually impressed. “You’re going to kill me?”

She gave an indulgent gasp. “Heavens, no! Do I look like a killer?”

“Yes.”

His answer gave her pause. She blinked and then, for a moment, she smiled - not a smirk at the power she held over him, but a smile that made her eyes fill with mirth for just a moment before dissipating back into coolness.

“Still, it must have taken some time to negotiate that,” Tommy said. “What did Churchill give you in return?”

“Something that is not your concern,” she replied shortly. “Tell me who hired you?”

“Was it that painting?” Tommy pointed to the portrait above the fireplace.

The Princess’s eyes narrowed, like a sniper focusing on its target. Tommy was surprised she answered the question, no matter how curtly.

“No,” she said.

“Something to do with a lover then?”

“No.”

“Give me a hint.”

“You’re not used to being told what to do, are you?” she observed

“I was a tunneller during the war,” said Tommy. “I took orders even when they endangered my life.”

“And so, you’ve chased a sense of authority ever since?” She stubbed out her cigarette. “Tell me who hired you or I’ll have no choice but to give you and your companions back.”

Tommy’s fingers twitched. His gun was still in its holster underneath his jacket. “Henry Blake,” he said finally. When the princess did not immediately respond, he added, “It’s true.”

“I believe you,” she said, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair. “He’s in Parliament, isn’t he?”

Tommy nodded.

The Princess sighed. “I was hoping I could send you on your way and we’d never see each other again, but it seems I have need of you.”

“What do you want from me?”

Princess Sophia stood and gestured for Tommy to follow her back to the house’s entrance.

“I don’t know yet. But be prepared to march when my signal comes.”

She paused by the door to offer her hand. Tommy bent forward to bring it to his lips, never letting his eyes stray from hers. In the glow of light, he was struck by the sense that she looked familiar.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

In the car, Tommy made a mental note to ask Ada to find everything she could on Princess Sophia Duleep Singh.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader

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the-corpsewitch · 3 years

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Therapy? Why would I go to therapy when I can just reread a book about six emotionally unstable teenagers who don't know how to say I love you?

#six of crows #grishaverse #nina zenik #inej ghafa #wylan van eck #kaz 'i protect my investments' brekker #jesper 'maybe i liked your stpuid face' fahey #matthias 'tries to kill her then fucking dies himself' helvar #no mourners no funerals #actually it's 5 mourners 1 funeral now #kanej #helnik #wesper

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

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Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Sucker for Pain

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

Warnings: Guns (its in the title lol), grief, a minor mention of blood, fighting, always angst (what I consider angst)

Words: 4.1K

Author note: Totally cried while writing this. Feel free to leave comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter. Always love hearing from you guys.

Chapter 5: Sucker for Pain

Words: 4.1K

Word of Charlotte’s death had spread like wildfire, especially at school. Only Rosie was attending the past fews days. Parker set to join her in two days time, after the funeral, he was scared of what lied ahead. Parker was discharged from the hospital a few days ago, under strict instructions to rest. He started to go a little stir crazy, watching the days pass.

Most of the student’s attended the funeral. Charlotte’s demise was widely publicized which made Parker’s blood boil. No one knew her like Parker did. Who Charlotte actually was the complete opposite of the persona she put on in public and at school. Charlotte was secretly funny and enjoyed really cheesy corny jokes. Her sense of humor was one of things that made Parker fall in love with her.

All the Hollands attended. You, Tom, Rosie, and Parker, and hoped to pay your respects. Parker was exhausted, he had been going through the stages of grief. How could his life get so screwed in a matter of a few weeks. A couple weeks ago, he was a kid planning his promposal for his girlfriend and now he is a protégé of the biggest mob in London who was about to bury his girlfriend.

This was the final stage, the one he was dreading the most, acceptance. He didn’t want to let her go. Charlotte changed his world for the better. She was the first person he ever loved and loved him in return.

The denial didn’t last long. It was unfathomable how she no longer existed. How the world wouldn’t be blessed with her beautiful smile anymore. Or her corny sense of humor and gracious presence. How could someone so perfect just leave the world so suddenly.

Bargaining followed next, coupled with anger. Parker was angry at the world, God, himself, and the bastards that killed her. If they had only driven home when he wanted to, she would still be here. If he hadn’t gotten grounded and not overslept and cleaned up quick enough. If he hadn’t thrown that stupid party. If his dad never gave him an ultimatum. If he never turned 16. Even if he never existed in the first place, Charlotte would still be alive.

There are 5 stages of grief as if you move on from one to the next but no, they stick with people. Especially, depression and anger. How does anyone ever really get over death. Losing someone you love is greatest pain ever felt. Someone you held and protected. Losing Charlotte, in that moment Parker wasn’t good enough. Not enough to protect her or love her.

Bringing us up to date, acceptance. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye but since when did he start getting what he wanted. Parker stood like a statue as he watched Charlotte’s casket lower in to the ground. He knew he had to be strong not just for himself, but for everyone else, especially Charlotte’s parents. At the reception, Parker tried to speak to them but, he didn’t know what to say. How could he lie to them saying it was an accident when in reality he was the reason.

“You have some real nerve showing up here,” Mr. Owens said as Tom walked up to the grieving parents. “I was so sorry to hear about Charlotte, Mrs. Owens,” Tom explained. “You daft prick, you were there. You could’ve protected her,” screamed Mrs. Owens to Parker.

“Mrs. Owens, I just came to offer my condol—“ Parker tried to say.

“Fuck your condolences!” She yelled, throwing her daiquiri straight on Parker. Coating him, from head to toe, in a very potent alcoholic drink.

“I think what my son is trying to explain is that if you need anything, money or a favor, it would be our pleasure. Our family business has some important ties.” Tom exclaimed, hoping to bring them some peace. “You and your son end lives. That’s your family business. I want no part of it. Now if you don’t mind, please get out of my fucking way.” Mrs. Owens said, pushing her way past Tom.

“You people have too many strings. I just want my baby girl back, and you can’t do that,” screamed Mrs. Owens as she left the premises.

“Sir, you want me to take care of her?” asked William, Tom’s capo. “Leave her alone, she’s grieving. Parker come on, let’s go home and get you cleaned up,” Tom explained.

“She’s right. If it weren’t for me Charlotte would still be alive.” Parker said solemnly. Tom hated seeing his son like this, it was eating him up inside. Tom couldn’t do anything to stop it, it was up to Parker to face his inner demons.

The Holland household was starting to return to normalcy, at least what they called normalcy. Parker refused to leave his room for awhile. Staff and you would bring food up to his room each meal and take the untouched one from before. He was a shell of a person after the night. All the while Parker was getting over Charlotte, Rosie was getting under someone new.

Henry had been coming over frequently for two reasons. To comfort Parker in his time of need and to be with Rosie. Their love for each other blossomed rather quickly. Rosie was not one for big romantic gestures, but made an exception from Henry.

The day had come where Parker was to return to school. How could face all of them with the judgements and accusations. Charlotte’s death shook everyone to their very core, everyone was taking the news differently. It wasn’t common for the school community to lose on of their own. Maybe a teacher but never a student.

There were a multitude of mourners that ranged from the fake asses who say they knew her but didn’t, her former conquests who only saw her as a good fuck and her actual friends who were devastated. Posters were hung up and there were candles, teddy bears and “We miss you cards,” displayed all over her locker.

You drove them to school that morning, since Parker was still grounded. Arriving at school, all voices ceased to exist as the black Rolls Royce pulled up. Out jumped Parker and Rosie and all eyes shifted to them as they walked through the halls.

“Glad to see you are back Mr. Holland. You missed a few projects, you can make them up at a later time,” Ms. Erikson, Parker’s chemistry teacher, said. Parker just nodded in response.

Walking to his seat, he perfectly heard all the rumors being spread or was he supposed to. “I heard he was the one who killed her.” “I heard they were both at a gang bang” “I heard she died in his arms”. How could people be so insensitive to make snap judgements like that.

Charlotte’s parents’ opted for the cause of her death to remain hidden. But they were teenagers, they couldn’t help but, gossip. Rumors are just rumors, Parker would tell himself. They weren’t entirely wrong. He was the reason, he was there when it happened, and he held her as she died. Being in those hollowed halls was brutal. Parker was basically the new social pariah.

The student’s weren’t oblivious to the Holland family. They knew what most people knew. That Tom Holland owned one of the largest exporting companies in Europe, Holland Exportation and Luxuries. And they knew not to mess with the Hollands.

Once class was over, now came the hard work. Tom called it “Mobster Bootcamp,” Parker was currently taking lessons with his dad to carry on the legacy. Tom had a few tricks of the trade up his sleeve desperately wanting to pass on to his son. They had met in the Tom’s office to begin.

“Lesson 1: Always wear black or white.” Tom started with as Parker took notes, like the perfect student he is.

With one, blood will alter it completely and the other remains unchanged. It was a common theme, with the Holland legacy, wearing black or white. It was sleek, dangerous and classy all at the same time.

“The one big perk is that blood doesn’t show up on black fabric.”

“Lesson 2: Wives must be treated with respect, girlfriends are fair game."

“If you’re a good man, the only describable difference between a wife and girlfriend is that one has an unnecessary symbol on her ring finger. They both mean the same and don’t you forget it,” Tom concluded.

And Tom was a good man. Never has Tom even thought about cheating on you. Porn was pointless and strip clubs bored him. Why throw away the best thing that ever happened to him, you.

“Lesson 3: Someone brings a knife, you bring a gun” “Never be without a weapon. Anything can become a weapon with the right skill set, but always be prepared.”

Tom was a big fan of improvisation. Sometimes using what he had on hand, like his tie. Strangling wasn’t his most favorite method of killing but he liked to mix it up.

“Also find finesse in your kills. Your mother is a big believer in gun to the head, execution style. Me on the other hand, I prefer to roughen up a guy a bit, but you will eventually develop an M.O. (modus operandi). Another lesson, make sure you don’t always use the same M.O. mix it up a bit, otherwise they could trace it back to you,” Tom elaborated.

“That bring me to my next lesson.”

“Lesson 4: Blackmail is your best friend.”

Tom has had a few close calls in his day. Everything about running a mob had to be sneaky. Bodies couldn’t be found by any random person, they needed to be cleaned up and dealt with. The witness’s in a meeting were sworn into secrecy, he had enough dirt on them that he could get someone to fake their death if need be. Cops were never a problem with the Hollands. They were his puppets and he was the puppet master.

“Killing someone in a public place you risk being caught by an innocent bystander. Then one things leads to another and you are cleaning up two bodies instead of one.That’s why I have the warehouse and the police Captain in my pocket. Just remember everyone’s got a price,” Tom explained.

“Lesson 5: Have as little weaknesses as possible.”

Tom hated referring to the one’s he loved as weakness but it was the truth. He couldn’t be weak if he desired to be top dog. The moment you and Tom started a family, his liabilities increased. From that day, his only goal was to protect you and the twins.

“I would never call your mother a weakness, but I would die for her. Also for you and your sister. This makes me vulnerable. In the past, people have put her in danger situations for leverage against me.” Tom said, rubbing his temples. Parker just nodded in return. A long silence ensued.

“Dad, are you okay?” Parker questioned.

“Yeah. I’m sorry son, I have more for you but, just have a lot on my mind,” Tom apologized. “It’s alright. Any luck with finding Charlotte’s killer?” Parker asked, his voice tainted with hope.

“No, but I do have a meeting at the warehouse with a contact would you like to tag along?”

“How could I say no,” Parker said, kind of excitedly. They made their way out of the mansion and drove to the warehouse. Parker had never been here before. It was dark and cold looking. The walls were pure metal sheets and the floor had stains of blood scattered everywhere. “Good to see you, Jazz,” Tom said walking up to the mysterious woman tied to a chair. Jasmine Ramsey, a contract killer Tom was friends with. A little more than friends at one time, predating you.

“Fuck you, Tom. What’d I do to be graced with your presence,” questioned Jazz. “Nothing to piss me off, yet,” Tom chuckled. “Then why the fuck am I here,” she said a little peeved.

“My son, here, needs to ask you a few questions,” Tom said, pointing towards Parker who stood in the corner. “Aww a baby Holland. Following in your daddy’s footsteps, huh?” “Shut it, slag,” Parker yelled as he melded his fist with her jaw.

“Jesus. What the fuck was that for?” Jazz screeched. “Woah. Sorry Jazz, should’ve told him you were an old friend,” Tom says, holding his hands up in defense. “Oh, I’m so sorry miss. Could I get you some ice or something?” Parker exclaimed, surprised that he just punched an assassin.

“Its fine didn’t hurt that bad. Gotta work on your punch,” she said adjusting her jaw. “Really. Hurt like a bitch to me” Parker whispered, holding his aching hand. Blood began to seep out of the broken skin, staining his knuckles red. “Tommy you gotta tell your son to grow tougher skin” Jazz exclaimed. “What the fuck were you thinking Parker?” Tom said, grabbing Parker by the collar of his polo. “Sorry I just assumed with her being tied up and all” Parker exclaimed. “That’s how we do business boy. You’ll soon learn”Jazz explained with a shit-eating grin across her face.

“Anyway, I need info on a murder at The Luxe on the 11th. A young girl was involved.” Tom turned to Jazz.

“Oh I heard about that, poor girl, she was pretty too. What’s it to you, Holland?”

“That’s not important,” Tom hissed. “She was my girlfriend,” Parker interrupted.

“Sorry lover boy my hands are tied, literally,” Jazz said, rolling her eyes. “If I untie you will you talk?” Tom replied.

“Yes, you know me. I don’t appreciate being threatened.” “Alright Jazz, just spit it out.” Tom said as Parker untied her restraints. “I was downtown at pub, called Harmon’s. Heard of it?” Jazz expressed. “Yeah, a big hotspot for Shaw’s men,” Tom said, nodding his head as he followed along. “Well, I was searching for my target and overheard some men saying “It’s going down tonight, word from the Merchant is that he should be there, with his little whore.”” “Fuck. The Merchant. Where have I heard that?” Tom said, puzzled. “Short for Merchant of Death. Surely, you’ve heard the old mob tales.” Jazz elaborated.

“Of course.”

“Well if it is him, I’d stop looking you don’t want to find him,” she warned. “Please, everyone knows I’m fucking top dog,” Tom asserted. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Tommy. You are now, but he used to be and if he is returning, watch your back. All he craves is power. If that’s it I’ll be on my way.” Jazz explained, asking for permission to leave. “Yes of course, Jazz. Thanks.” Tom muttered. “Give my love to your wife,” she said, pressing a cheek to his kiss as she strutted out. “Seriously dad?” Parker asked with a side glare. “Parker stop it. I love your mother and I would never cheat on her. Jazz and I are just friends.” Tom explained creating a “I’m watching you” look on Parker’s face.

“Jesus, one punch ripped open your knuckles. You're the one telling mom. Now come on or we’ll be late for dinner,” Tom said, inspecting Parker’s hand. Being the new mob boss was in Parker’s blood, but you were always against it. You loved the mob and being part of it but you wanted your kids to have a choice, unlike you and Tom.

Meanwhile at the manor, you and Rosie were making dinner. You appreciated all the staff to clean and cook but, enjoyed the satisfaction when doing it yourself. Secretly loving your independence. While you were dating Tom, you would try to ditch your security much to Tom’s dismay. You were a junkie for thrills.

Rosie and your relationship is what ever mother desired. You treated Rosie like a daughter first and a best friend second. As long as Rosie’s life was never put in danger you would keep her secrets. The major one being Henry.

“Hey honey. Since it’s just us here, how are things going with Henry?” You asked curiously. “Wait, where’s dad and Parker?” Rosie questioned cause nobody else knew. “Taking care of some business. Now spill, I want all the details.” “Well things are going really great. We kissed.” “Really? When? Where?” You have always wanted to have this conversation with her daughter. “At the hospital when Parker was hurt. I had a panic attack and Henry comforted me. He is really great, mom. I don’t know I’ve just never felt this way before,” she explained. Rosie had boyfriends in the past, never long enough for anything serious to perspire.

“Roo if you’re ready to take that step, I’m here for you. You can tell me anything.”

“I’m okay, right now, considering”

“Considering what? Did something happen? Has Henry been pressuring you?” You grew concerned of your daughter. “No. God no, nothing like that. On the night of the party, I got drunk and remember that boy Connor?”

“Yes, go on.” “Well he… he tried to rape me.” Rosie murmured, trying not to cry. “What? Roo why didn’t you tell me,” you whispered, your heart breaking on behalf of Rosie. “Henry was there to stop it and I just want to forget about.” “Roo, I’m so sorry you had to deal with this. I’m always here for you ok? I love you so much baby.” “Love you too, mom” Rosie replied. Their conversation soon quickly ended as Tom and Parker came barging through the front door and Rosie excused her self to the restroom.

“Ooo, something smells good. What is my beautiful wife cooking?” Tom asked, coming up behind you and kissing your neck.

“The only thing she knows how to cook, spaghetti and meatballs,” you replied, jokingly.

“How was your guy’s day?” You asked. “Great, Parker really showed them,” Tom said, kissing your forehead and pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Jesus Parker, does it hurt?” you questioned as he showed her his battle scars.

“What the fuck happened to your hand?” Rosie said, walking back into the kitchen. “Oh nothing,” Parker said, trying to change the subject. Rosie just gave him a puzzling glare as she dropped the subject.

“Dinner’s ready,” you announced as they all made their way to the dining room. There they sat at the long table, Tom at the head of course and you to the right of him. You all talked about your day, of course, avoiding any mob talk.

“So what really happened to your hand” Rosie asserted breaking the silence. “Drop it. Will you?” Parker barked annoyed at her persistence. “Fine,” she said staring at her plate until her phone buzzed. That noise put a smile across her face because it was always the same person, Henry. “Roo, you know the rules. No phones at dinner,” you remarked. “I know mom, just give me one second,” replied Rosie, holding up a finger. “Rosie, your mother asked you to put it down. Who’s got you so giddy anyway.” Tom said, defending you.

“Oh nothing” Rosie muttered, putting her phone down. “Ten bucks it’s a boy” Tom said directed towards you. “Deal” you responded, shaking his hand. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss, theirs loving way of shaking hands.

“I’m done. Dinner was great, thanks mom. May I be excused?” Parker asked and Tom nodded in response. Rosie cornered him on his way upstairs. It had been a while since they had talked. Sibling to sibling. Twin to twin. They tried not to keep secrets from each other. He hadn’t of told her about the mob and she hadn’t told him of her and Henry.

“Now tell me what the fuck you did to your hand,” Rosie barked, cornering him.

“Why the fuck do you want to know so bad?” Parker responded. “Umm, I’m your sister.”

“Rosie I don’t have time for your bullshit,” Parker yelled. “What the fuck happened? There’s something you aren’t telling me,” Rosie accused.

“Dad wants me to be the next him.” Parker explained. “I’m not following. What like run the company?” Rosie asked, confused by his statement.

“No. Dad is a mobster. He runs a mob and he wants me to succeed him.” “What the fuck? When did this happen? Why the fuck haven’t you told me?” Rosie exclaimed.

“Our birthday. This is what I was trying to tell you at the party!” Parker yelling causing Rosie to yell back. “Sorry, I was a little preoccupied and so were you!” Rosie hinting at Charlotte. “Don’t turn this on me. What the fuck are you doing with Henry, by the way? You think I don’t see the two of you sneaking around.” Parker quipped, in reality he had never seen their antics. “Nothing, it’s none of your business,” Rosie said, shying away from him. “Of course, it’s my business he’s my best friend.” “Well he is mine too and the world doesn’t revolve around you. If you weren’t so busy breaking curfew and sneaking out, you would see that Henry is really good to me, ever since that night.” Rosie explained stopping herself before she said something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge herself.

“Rosie, what happened?” Parker asked noticing her quick change in demeanor.

“You won’t care,” Rosie quipped.

“Try me,” Parker said softly.

“That night… someone slipped something in my drink and tried to take advantage of me, but Henry stopped it.” Rosie explained, trying to avoid the brute of Parker’s rage.

“Who? Tell me who right fucking now!”

“Connor.”

“I’m gonna kill him” “No, Henry already took care of it. You already have enough blood on your hands,” Rosie chuckled, surprised Parker cared that much. “Thanks,” he said with sarcasm.

“Roo, I’m so sorry. I should’ve known.” “It’s ok. I’m just trying to put it behind me”

“So what you are a mobster now?” “One in training. I need you to know I’m doing this for one reason only, to avenge Charlotte, okay. Not looking to kill for sport like mom and dad.”

Rosie’s suspicions grew over the years that her parents did enjoy living above the law. It didn’t bother her, she actually hoped the mantle would be passed on to her. She had a more fiery spirit than Parker, he was just a big softie on the inside much like his father. Appearances can be deceiving.

Tom was currently in his office, finishing up work for the night. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The last person he thought would call him, his dad.

“So are you going to say thanks?” asked Dom.

“For what? I don’t time for your antics, dad. A hit was hired on Parker and I have to figure out who did it.” Tom sighed. He was frustrated he was getting no where, who was the Merchant of Death. “Umm, hello. Like I said you’re welcome,” Dom quipped.

“You fucking mean that was you.”

“Duh, told you he needed a push in the right direction. I wasn’t the one to pull the trigger but I knew where he was.” “I have a crushed kid over here wanting revenge on the bastards who killed his girlfriend.” “Problem solved, glad he is joining the family business.” Dom said and hung up. How the fuck was Tom going to explain to Parker that his grandpa arranged the hit?

“FUCK!!” Tom screamed smashing everything in sight.

Meanwhile, Parker made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water when he saw you sitting on the couch, consumed in your book.

“Hey mom?” Parker asked, needing to get something off his chest. “Yeah, honey,” you responded, drawing your eyes away from your book. “I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening… wait what the fuck was that. Hold that thought.” You hesitated when you heard a large crash come from Tom’s office.

“Let me go check on your father,” you said, getting up from the couch. Parker couldn’t help but be curious. He followed her before she closed the door and listened in, pressing his ear against the door.

“Tommy, what happened?” You queried. “It was him,” Tom spoke with an unchanging expression. “Who, Carson?” “No, Dom. He arranged the hit,” Tom said.

Parker’s heart sunk to his stomach. His girlfriend was dead because of his family. He really did kill her.

Maybe he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger but she was seen with him. As far as he is concerned it painted a huge red target on her back. What kind of life was he born into? He never wanted any of this and now all he is, is this.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurb #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom holland #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom x mob!reader #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland x reader #dad!mob!tom

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tarvastries · 3 years

Text

things that Killed Me™️ in the s&b show

LEIGH GETTING TO HUG JESSIE ONSCREEN 😭

Pekka Rollins’s casting?!?! PERFECTION

THE CANE?! THE GLOVES?! THE HATS?!

So many heists & narrow escapes

Jesper being a thirsty ho for 80% of his screentime

The Funny Event at the end of episode 5

Jesper’s attitude, just, the whole time

MILO THE GOAT 🥺❤️

“Fine. Make me your villain.”

Also, “No mourners. No funerals.”

Basically anytime they directly quoted any of the books

Kaz carrying Milo for .02 secs

David raising his hand and THE DARKLING GOING ALONG WITH IT

Also David and Genya’s awkward as heck interactions, I love these two idiots so much holy cow

Inej being a girlboss by stabbing the darkling

INEJ AND ZOYA TEAMING UP

Also Kaz being The Coolest™ by beating up a volcra with his cane

Kaz actually validating Inej quite a bit when he’s not being an emotionless jerk, plus the “I need you” scene

The whole “Jes?” “It’s Suli for friend” interaction

Basically any scene with Nina and Matthias they’re so cute omg

Kaz facing off against the darkling AND ESCAPING UNSCATHED AAAAAA

Alina taking control of the amplifier and ascending to the role of Ultimate Girlboss

Mal being a malewife from episode 1

Basically just Alina & Mal being such a better match than they were in the books, well done with this show Leigh

There are so many more but this is all I can think of for now, goodnight ❤️

#I love it a normal amount #shadow & bone #s&b spoilers #I love my crows

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laylajoon · 3 years

Text

Shadow and bone reactions SPOILERS for books and the show

EP 1

“This is what you become,” a blade

THE CROWS OMG !!!! Jesper !!!!

really wanted kaz to have a deeper raspy voice but we move

okay that scene with zoya and mal was a bit cringe

jesper inej bestie vibes love to see it

I can’t with the keftas they’re so ugly pls

Why are the credits so long

EP 2

baby malina🥺

Okay sujaya’s acting is quite decent but I’m still annoyed about how they portrayed her

Ben is actually the perfect as the darkling

not kaz getting beat up🙄

EP3

Love that goat

I’m so mad about zoya

The apparat is so creepy omg

Not Jesper annihilating the volcra whilst holding the goat

EP 4

Honestly her pyjamas are nicer than her kefta

WHAT HE SAID CALL ME ALEKSANDER NO NO NO PLS THATS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET TF

omg the crows all looks high

he named the goat Milo and gave him a bullet to remember him by omg I love him

HEIST HEIST HEIST

Okay I really like Mikhael and Dubrov, great energy

Okay there’s no way kaz would ever act like that

Bit disappointed by the heist but we move

Mikhael and Dubrov’s banter makes this show 1000 x better I really don’t want to watch them die

OMG THEYRE DEAD IM CRYING

EP 5

How do unsee the costumes

Mal just can’t catch a break

Gosh darklina makes me cringe

RUTHLESS KAZ OMG OMG

Not Alina just climbing into the trunk of the crows’ carriage

Jespers sass>>>>

EP 6

Helnik really said “I’ll never let go Jack.” But better omg

Okay I like this snazzy little outfit she stole from the stable

GOD show!zoya is the WORST I HATE THIS

that green screen isn’t great

OMG MALINA REUNITED :(

Okay they play helnik so well omg

Ahah the way she threw the bottle at mal

Jessie’s so cute

show!malina > book!malina me thinks

“As stupid as he is tall” they’re the best

It’s the transitions for me

Falling in love with helnik all over again

THEYRE STEALING THE DARKLINGS CARRIAGE

AND HIT DAVID TF

Omg he’s putting his hand up I love David

EP 7

Ben’s is giving me prince caspian vibes rn

They really- he said OFF WITH THEIR HEADS

Now the forest is giving me narnia vibes

Crows breaking up?

I rlly hope this little cut isn’t going to be inej almost dying because idc if we don’t get the scene with kaz telling inej to keep her damn eyes open I’m gonna throw hands

Mal looks so proud of Alina

Gosh he just can’t catch a break 😭

Oop kaz is salty

“My crows” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Poor David :(

Omg any scene with Jesper and inej is just *chefs kiss*

He said shadow man💀

Milo??

OMG ITS MILO

Wow Milo saved mal, the real hero

The darkling is so creepy😂

Wow first no mourners, no funerals was very.... bland bit disappointed tbh

EP 8

show!helnik raising the bar

Mal needs to become a blade already so he can stop getting beat up pls

No thoughts just the crows

The darkling controlling the volcra was good

Okay so the show was better than expected as was the casting ngl I’m excited to see how the crows are gonna be incorporated next season because obvs soc is like 2 years after s&b but anyways solid 6/10 just want y’all to know because of archie I am become a mal stan good day ALSO SEASON TWO STURMHOND COME THROUGH

#shadow and bone spoilers #shadow and bone reaction #shadow and bone netflix #grishaverse #grishaverse spoilers #kaz brekker #kanej #jesper fahey #the crows #s&b netflix #helnik #nina zenik #matthias helvar #the darkling #milo the goat #alina starkov #david kostyk

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mimik-u · 4 years

Text

Flower Child (Chapter 13): Blue (III)

Goodness, I'm nearly a year and a half late, but here we are—Chapter 13 of "Flower Child." First of all, I want to give my sincerest apologies for the delay... I mentioned this at the start of my fic "Facets," but the simplest and truest story is that my muse for writing Steven Universe and, well, writing in general petered out for a long time and has only recently returned. But, because it has recently returned, I wanted to begin to make good on a promise I made to you guys so many months ago—that one day, I would finish this story. So let's do this. <3 I'm ready now.

(1) I read through the previous twelve chapters, lmao, and half-loved and half-hated my writing, but the point of that exercise, beyond getting acquainted with the plot of "FC" again, was to also do some quick grammar and flow revisions, so a few of the previous chapters should read just a little better than maybe they had before.

(2) Fun fact! Chapter 13 is pretty interesting because some portions of it were actually written over a year ago; it was an incredible challenge for me to work with what I had as a 2019 writer versus what I've learned as a 2020 writer.

(4) Someone asked on Tumblr a long time ago if there was a playlist I worked with in writing this story...

(5) And finally, and most importantly, this chapter is incredibly heavy, dealing with themes of suicidal ideation and extreme depression.

Please be cautious while reading if these are topics that are triggering to you!

The shiny, black town car eased to a stop at the pull-through entrance of the hospital, drawing the gazes of passerby on the sidewalk. An older lady in a wheelchair, a group of what appeared to be college kids in scrubs, a scraggly-looking patient who’d obviously escaped the confines of his room to light a cigarette—they all stopped and stared as the back door of the overtly fancy car was pried open from the inside out, as a metal cane preceded a woman who quite looked like she needed it.

Blue Diamond unfolded into the light of day, trembling.

Because it was hard.

It was so hard.

To be here.

(To be.)

She wanted to collapse where she stood, dissemble and dissolve away one piece of herself at a time; she leaned heavily on the head of her cane and lit upon the sole pair of eyes that weren’t looking at her—or, really, her Lincoln. The man named Greg Universe stood next to the automatic doors with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the ground, all but boring a hole into it. When the sliding doors opened and closed at his backside, they appeared to be ripping into him, piece by miserable piece.

“I’ll call when I’m ready,” Blue murmured to her valet before shutting the door and slowly hobbling over to Greg.

Clank.

The onlookers glanced away as the town car drove off, resumed their lives and cared not for yet another broken person in their midst. The hospital was full of them as it was. Perhaps they were even broken themselves—very probably they were.

Blue Diamond did not care to know.

Clank.

I’m betraying her, she thought, she was always thinking. I’m leaving her behind. I’m betraying her. I’m—

Clank.

The clanking did the trick, catching Greg’s attention and only half-holding it. He lifted his head slowly and mustered a smile that must have been agony. It wobbled on his lips and very nearly disappeared in his bushy beard. It pulled at him—all over. He looked like a Picasso gone wrong, an abstraction of a man stretched too far.

“Hey, just in time.” He gave a shaky little laugh that rather sounded like a sob and then somehow kept talking, his entire physiognomy alive with his nerves. “Steven’s so excited to see you again. He hasn’t stopped talking about ya since this morning, which is kinda nuts because he was so tired yesterday, but this is a good thing, and so we should really go up and see him now because—”

She cut across him; it was a quiet act, a merciful one. “Greg.”

It was just his name, a singular syllable, a sound, but even that was enough.

Mr. Universe’s face fell into geometric disarray.

“No use hiding it, huh?” He half-wept, half-laughed again, scrubbing a hand over his face and bringing up his shirt to soak up what was left.

“No,” Blue Diamond whispered, her hands tightening on the head of her cane. “It’s scrawled all over you, I’m afraid.”

“Figures,” he said hoarsely. “I’m a mess.”

“No more than I am.” She pried one of her hands away from the other and gestured loosely at her entire body with a wry smile. “If you’re a mess, then I am a dereliction.”

It wasn’t a contest; it was the truth.

Four years of grieving had wasted her.

Blue Diamond was skeletal.

Broken.

Greg took this in and considered; his smile that really wasn’t a smile resolved itself into a quiet, aching sort of frown. It tugged his face downwards; it tugged at the hollows of her chest. She’d seen him only a little over a week ago, and yet today, he looked as though he’d aged a hundred years in the span of eight days. There were bags under his eyes and sunken dunes in his cheeks.

There was a little boy in a hospital bed.

There was a disease.

It was killing them both.

“How do I do this?” He asked the ground. “How did you—” But he stopped short; his breath hitched.

It was a highly personal question after all.

It was no short wonder that Blue’s cane didn’t snap beneath her grip.

“How did I do it?” She returned softly all the same. The slight breeze stirred the strands of hair poking out of her silvery braid.

Greg nodded mutely, the desperation in his face tangible. She could reach out if she wanted and touch his hurt, the very heart of it, and all of its dimensions. (She didn’t want to.)

“To be entirely truthful,” she murmured, “I’m not sure that I ever did.”

ii.

It was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon, and it was also 2:38AM, the very moment when a police officer had the audacity to come to their door and tell two mothers that their daughter was dead, gone, and never coming back. His expression was a gathering bruise, and his words were like bullets, striking right between the ribs.

Blue Diamond couldn’t breathe.

In the darkness, she sat on the edge of Pink’s bed and dragged every mouthful of air inwards like it was painful; her chest heaved with the awfulness of it, the punctured horror of leaking lungs.

Her child was dead.

Oh, God.

Her child was gone.

Why, oh, why, oh, God, my God?

And she was never coming back.

Goddammit.

In the coagulated darkness, Blue clutched her daughter’s favorite sweatshirt close to her chest; it was black and ratty, full of holes and little tears. A small alien logo perched on the chest, grinning up at her from depthless eyes.

They used to fight over this particular number.

Constantly.

“You’re a multibillion dollar heiress.” Blue would pinch the bridge of her nose and try not to raise her voice above an acerbic whisper. “Would it inconvenience you to buy some nicer clothes?”

Pink was unsparing in her retorts, wicked and witty, face upturned in a haughtiness to match her mother’s own.

“Would it inconvenience you to get off my ass, Mother? It’s just a sweatshirt.”

“Pink!”

And on and on.

The fabric was cold between Blue’s long fingers, still scented with Pink’s favorite perfume.

They were going to bury her today, mere hours from now.

Last week, they’d been fighting over this shirt.

On and on and never again.

The funeral… mere hours from now… less than three… but how could that also be true when it was only 1:52AM and Pink Diamond was coughing her last, strangled breath on a dirty pavement outside a bar on 9th Avenue?

Blue Diamond hadn’t been there, but she forced the words on the detective’s report to come to life in the theatre of her mind’s eye anyway. By the time the paramedics had arrived, Pink was all but gone; she gasped, and she coughed, and her brown eyes marbled in one final supernova of emotion. They tried to resuscitate her, but the damage was too extensive.

She’d fought back, the officer had said. (He thought it was a consolation to them.)

The proof was caked in her nails and scratched all over her arms, but it’d been three against one.

She was a lion, and they were men; she was a twenty-one year old girl, and they were men.

In the darkness, unraveling, Blue Diamond’s face dripped onto the sweatshirt, onto the alien smiling up at her with a black sliver of a mocking grin. She did not register—she did not care to register—the slow creaking of the door opening inwards.

Amber light strained from the hallway to find and reach and touch her but didn’t quite make it.

Yellow Diamond was a shadowy figure in the doorway.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” she scolded, and yet, she moved into the room anyway—the hypocrite—her sharp heels muffled in the carpet. Stiff and forbidding, she came to stand in front of Blue, arms crossed over her chest, a frown crossed over her face. “It’s not healthy for you, Bl—“

But Blue cut across her. It was not a kind act; it was a precise incision—cold and surgical—three inches long and just as deep. “Our daughter is dead, Yellow.”

The shadowy figure recoiled but did not bite.

Even now, Yellow couldn’t bear to be seen as vulnerable, couldn’t bear to give one damn inch.

“I know that, dammit,” she muttered to the wall. “Dammit—do you not think I know that?”

But Blue had no pity for her, no shred of any emotion left except for the vicious tangle of grief; it tangled in her fingers, which sunk deep into Pink’s shirt, and it tangled in her cold eyes, leaking down her pale face and salting her anemic lips.

“Then act like it,” she hissed.

The exhortation bruised the air.

It demanded a reaction.

On its hands and knees, it begged for a response.

And yet, the shadowy figure said nothing. She didn't move her clenched fists.

She could not face Blue in the eyes.

Coward.

Hypocrite.

(Mourner.)

(Mourning.)

She simply left, staggering out of the room on precariously high heels, and Blue simply stayed, conflating the hours and the days and the minutes.

Later that day, they buried their daughter in a mausoleum, a gazebo—in a cemetery slathered in golden sun.

iii.

Greg explained the details as best as he could on the way up to Steven’s room. It was hard to find him a kidney because his blood type was O negative, which meant that he would only be able to receive a kidney from a Type O donor. And though he’d been on the waiting list for months now, and though he’d recently been moved to the top of the list given his worsening condition, it was still anyone’s guess as to when a kidney would become available.

(“If,” he could barely choke out, “we can even get one at all.”)

After slowly making their way across an expansive skywalk, they finally arrived at a pair of double doors labeled Truman Ward. The sun pierced through the tall glass windows and lit upon Blue’s sunken face, and Greg’s red eyes, and her metallic cane, and his wobbling lips—as though it was doing them a favor by doing so.

Greg reached behind her and pressed a button on the wall, alerting someone on the other side to their arrival.

“Listen”—he ran his hand along the back of his neck as the doors slowly parted open in welcome—“I’m going to go back to the room for a bit and see if I can get some paperwork done. Feel free to stay as long as ya’d like. Visiting hours don’t end ’til eight.”

Blue stared at him.

Every moment—every hour, minute, and second with this child was precious nowadays, and here Greg was, lending her time out of his own.

She felt the gift of what he was offering deeply.

(She could have never found it in herself to be so generous with Pink.)

“Thank you.” She swept a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I… I appreciate you allowing me to visit him.”

But he only shook his head and urged her through the doors with a pinched smile.

“If he’s happy that you’re here,” he shrugged, “then I am, too.”

And with that, he waved a last goodbye, and the doors folded to a close again with her on the other side of them.

Room 11037.

Walking became a monumental task as the clinically white hallway stretched out before her, lengthened by her mind, twisted and contorted into an obstacle she had to surmount.

It should have been just a hall.

Clank.

The memory of Pink burned bright behind her eyelids, stained there permanently by principle but stamped in starkly with assistance from the harsh fluorescents overhead. She was laughing, always laughing, in these flashbulb reminiscences, her freckles coalescing and then expanding across the bridge of her nose like the bellows of an accordion.

Clank.

But it wasn’t just Pink, though it always would be.

Clank.

It was Steven now.

Clank.

A ghost she chased, as opposed to the one who perpetually haunted her (who mercifully, who cruelly stayed.)

Clank.

But he wasn’t a ghost just yet, right? He was still here and still fighting—did that not count for something? Didn't his heartbeat, the very state of its continued existence, teach her to hope?

Clank.

But hope was such an awful word—so empty, brimming with meaningless sensationalism.

Clank.

(Maybe it was the vestiges of her long dead religion, but she wanted to hope anyway.)

Clank.

Hope was such an awful word.

Clank.

Room 11037.

The door was decisively closed.

A tall woman with bicolored eyes leaned against it, her dark lips corkscrewed into a frown.

Blue Diamond vaguely remembered her from the cemetery but couldn’t quite place a name. She could place an expression, though, and was surprised to name the one on this stranger’s face as disdain. Disdain rolled off this mysterious woman in waves, from the resolute clench of her jaw to the iron way that her arms were folded across her chest. It burned in her eyes. It seemed to languish inside of her, seething just under a facade of smooth skin.

She was a monolith of quiet loathing.

Blue squared her rounded shoulders in a manner she thought to be composed; her hands trembled on her cane nonetheless.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” She asked it quite politely, even as the walls were harsh and white around them. She used to command rooms by the authoritative nature of her voice alone, and now she struggled to keep it together long enough to face a singular woman in front of a singular door.

“It’s not you specifically,” the woman replied, impressively put together, admirably composed. If her electric blue eye was cold, the brown one simply burned. Both were bruised underneath with tired shadows. “It’s what you stand for. It’s about the morals that Diamond Electric doesn’t have.”

“You’re an activist,” Blue surmised quickly, almost flippantly. Activists were challenging DE all of the time, and activists were always losing. Before Pink… she’d largely assumed that these sorts of protesters simply had no logical case. After Pink, she had had much more consuming thoughts on her mind than petty lawsuits against their multibillion dollar company.

“A Crystal Gem,” she corrected tersely, “but that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” Her gaze slid subtly to the doorway behind her, and Blue understood her at once.

“Steven,” she whispered.

The woman nodded.

“Steven,” she agreed, and her voice cracked as she said it, splintering into thousands of little pieces and struggling to regroup. When she swallowed to compose herself, it was almost as though she was swallowing the shards. “He likes you, and I can’t… I won’t begrudge him that.”

In the way that she said it, it was almost like she was convincing herself most of all.

“There is an implicit but there,” Blue parried softly. “You won’t begrudge him that, but.”

Again, the woman nodded, the gesture slow and measured, as though she was working something out in the tiny motion. When her squared chin came up again, her mismatched eyes were bright, intense with quiet pain.

“But don’t hurt him.”

It was a reasonable demand, but the implication behind it stung immediately and anyway.

She inhaled sharply and scrambled to defend herself, to salvage the punctured wound, but the damage was already done. Her voice came out more broken than it did cold.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe not intentionally,” the Crystal Gem said, shaking her head. “Most people never really intend to hurt someone… but it happens. We get caught up in our emotions. We get selfish. We get distant. And then we hurt people.”

It struck Blue Diamond at that very moment that she hadn’t even deigned to ask the woman’s name.

“So, all I’m saying is don’t hurt him.” She unfolded herself from the door and stepped aside. “He likes you.”

iv.

Two days after the first anniversary of Pink Diamond’s death, a doctor shined a light in Blue Diamond’s glassy eyes and waited for a pupillary response. When he received one—an involuntary but nonetheless reactive blink—he unceremoniously clicked off his pen light and straightened up into the unfriendly darkness once more.

In the sparse incandescence bleeding in from the hallway, Yellow Diamond cut a shadowy figure by his side, her usually tidy hair rumpled from all the times her fingers had become ensnared in it that day.

Her tie was loose, and lines had already begun to etch themselves beneath those hawklike eyes of hers.

Soon, they would become permanent fixtures, marked there by time and age and grief.

For now, though, they were only suggestions.

Hints of what was to come.

(So many sleepless nights.)

(How many haunted days?)

“Well?” Though the CEO tried hard to strangle her voice into a whisper, the sharpness of the syllable was still the loudest sound in the room. Subtlety had never quite been this woman’s strong suit; she wielded her words as though they were gavels to proclaim on the heads of all who dared to cross her path.

“Catatonic depression,” the doctor replied, just as succinctly, replacing his pen in the pocket of his lab coat. “The staring, the lack of movement, the loss of appetite, the elective mutism. All textbook symptoms that point to the fact that your wife is still grieving, Mrs. Diamond. Frankly, I’m worried for her health.”

The shadow on his left scowled at this diagnosis, and she fidgeted, and it was apparent by these two idiosyncrasies alone that she was scrounging deep for some incisive rebuttal against the truth that laid like a breathing corpse directly below her.

“Then what, pray tell, do you intend to do about it?” Her voice exceeded its former intentions of quietness. “That’s the problem. Now what’s the solution?”

“Well, I admit her to the hospital and start her on an intravenous Lorazepam treatment. It’s a sedative. It’ll assuage some of her anxiety and relax her muscles to prevent spasming.”

“Yes, and then?”

They were talking about her as though she wasn’t even there.

It was a fair enough assessment.

“And then what, Mrs. Diamond?” The doctor stared at her incredulously, shoving both of his hands in his pockets. “With all due respect, I can treat your wife’s physical symptoms from sunup to sundown, but that’s not touching the heart of what is truly debilitating her. She’s grieving, ma’am, and she needs psychiatric treatment beyond what I can provide as a private doctor and you can provide as her spouse. We discussed this the last time I was here.”

“And the time before that—yes, I know,” Yellow Diamond laughed humorlessly, the sound half-mad in her constricted throat. “Because you stand there, like an imbecile, and tell me that there’s no underlying medical cause to this?!”

She jabbed an accusing hand at Blue Diamond, whose oceanic eyes were wide open and unseeing, silent tears slipping from the corners of them and falling sideways across her face. There was an untouched tray of food on her nightstand. There was a lankness in her unwashed hair. There were pill bottles accumulating like a grotesque collection next to the alarm clock.

And there was an air, an atmosphere, an oppression of silent decay.

The funereality of it was undeniable.

An uncomfortable wooden chair stood next to the bed where Yellow Diamond had been sitting vigil for the past two nights since they had visited the cemetery on the day of the anniversary.

Blue Diamond’s keening sobs had sliced the autumnal air.

Her daughter was dead.

Gone.

Never coming back.

She stared at nothing, it seemed to Yellow and the doctor; she languished in the visions of Pink that seized across her mind with every dripping second of consciousness.

“Depression is an underlying medical cause, Mrs. Diamond.”

The doctor’s voice softened.

Minimally.

For the first time since the house call had begun, his lanky silhouette jerked a little, as though he wanted to place a hand on the CEO’s shoulder, but thought better of it upon seeing something forbidding in the other’s expression.

“And she’s tired, ma’am. You both are.” Look at you, his rust colored eyes seemed to say. You’re both historical wrecks to a long dead ghost. “You can’t take care of her alone… moreover, you shouldn’t have to.”

But the doctor had finally overstepped one prying comment too far, and he must have known it immediately, because he took a step back from the golden eyes glowering at him in the darkness of that dusty bedroom.

Yellow Diamond’s entire face transformed, twisting itself into facets of shattered rage.

She was feral.

(Wounded.)

Apoplectic with fury.

(Grieving, she was inconsolable.)

Dangerous.

Goddammit, she was on fire.

“Do not ever deign to tell me what I can and can’t do when it comes to my wife,” she snarled, all pretense of quietness long gone, devoured in the hurricane of emotion. “Get out! OUT!”

“Mrs. Diamond, please—“

“I SAID OUT! OUT!” She shrieked, harshly shoving his shoulder with the flats of her palms. “GET THE HELL OUT!”

The doctor did not need telling again; he fled the room as the force of Yellow Diamond’s dismissal stoned his back.

Blue blinked slowly as a shaking hand suddenly clasped her arm in the wake of the carnage, the imprint of a steel wedding band carving itself into her flesh.

That hurts, Yellow.

She blinked again, the words swelling on her tongue and dying there unrestfully.

That hurts.

The warnings of Steven’s guardian standing sentinel on top of her frantically beating heart, Blue Diamond turned the knob to Room 11037 and pushed inwards until the door reluctantly gave way to a sight she had forgotten to steel herself for in-between the guilt of moving on and the agonizing action of doing so.

Steven himself.

Dwarfed in a hospital bed.

A mere wisp of the boy who had sat with her on the balcony only three days ago and stuffed his face with little chocolate cakes.

Her prodigious mind working far ahead of her paralyzed body, she frantically tried to recall his text from yesterday, what it had said about his condition, if it had indicated anything about his current state at all. But he had only told her that he had passed out and ended up in the hospital again. The boy had said nothing about the extensive tubing and the wires that ribboned and scissored his entire body in streaming colors. Lines crisscrossed each other and tumbled over and under and around his blankets.

She saw the bottom of an empty catheter bag at the edge of the bed.

And the bruises like angry embers pulsing up his arms.

Somehow, amongst all the other things she was absorbing at precisely the same time, she noticed that next to a vase of elegantly arranged sunflowers, there was an inelegantly arranged tray of hospital food.

Untouched.

He had texted not a word about the yellow pallor of his skin.

He had used exclamation points—exclamation points!—to indicate his excitement.

Blue Diamond could not shake the notion, the very absurd idea, that he had lied to her somehow, had drawn her here under false pretenses.

(This was not the truth. She had estimated at what she was getting herself into and crossed the line into getting herself into it anyway.)

“Hi,” Steven Universe said sheepishly, his cheeks flushing darkly. He was caught, and he knew it. “It’s good to see you again, Blue.”

The seconds dripped between them.

The heart monitor on the wall counted them out.

One…

Blue’s plump lips parted slightly.

Two…

Her hand shivered on the head of her cane until the sound of it rattled the clinically quiet room.

Three…

She couldn’t do this again.

She wouldn’t grieve for another dead child.

One had been too much—one had almost killed her.

Four…

God, and there were still days where she wondered if it still would.

Without thinking, desperate for relief, Blue turned away and braced her free hand on the door, drawing in harsh, ragged breaths that scratched at her beaten lungs, that bled them anew until they were leaking.

Who was she to believe that she wasn’t falling apart at her seams? How delusional was she to hope that a boy with a flower would be the difference between her saving grace and her inevitable dissolution? Was she so naïve to overlook the contours of his illness and think that his determination would be enough to save him from the eternal truth of this world? Was she so weak?

Death didn't discriminate between the old and the young, the sinner and the saint.

Pink Diamond was only twenty-one years old.

Steven Universe was a child.

“Blue!” Steven pleaded. “Wait, please don’t go. I—”

“I cannot look at you, Steven Universe," she cut across him, her voice low and fractured. Hot tears stood in her eyes, suddenly blurring her hand against the smooth door. “I’m sorry, but I cannot bear to see…”

“Can’t bear to see that I’m dying?”

He didn’t just refuse to mince the word; he stabbed it into her back so remorselessly that she gasped sharply. She glanced down at her chest and half-expected to see it lodged there, poking out, her beating heart speared on its tip.

“People can skirt around the word all they want,” Steven laughed bitterly, “but there’s no other word for it… without a kidney, I’m gonna die soon, Blue Diamond. I’m dying right now. I think I’ve been dying all this time. And everyone… all they wanna do… is look away from me. Pearl, Garnet, my dad…”

He sniffed.

“They keep looking away, and I’m so tired of it… I-I’m exhausted.”

The door felt cold against her palm.

Icy.

On the balcony, two days ago, she accused Yellow Diamond of shoving their daughter away in a drawer with the rest of her useless items.

In an arctic hospital room, Blue Diamond was ready to consign a boy to the same grave her daughter was buried in…

… but dead children couldn’t talk.

Dead children couldn’t be tired.

They were simply dead.

“So, please, Blue Diamond… please don’t look away.”

The seconds dripped between them.

The heart monitor on the wall counted them out.

One…

Her eyes were wide with the horror of everything, of it all, the senselessness, the depravity, the nihilistic revolutions of this awful, uncaring world.

“I had a daughter once,” she whispered to the door. “Her name was Pink Diamond, and she was… she is… my everything. She had a smile wider than this planet could ever hope to contain… and she very much liked to laugh.”

She had never talked about Pink to anyone other than Yellow before.

Even evoking her name felt like blasphemy.

Two…

A second passed, and no lightning fell from the sky to strike her dead; she supposed her own self-flagellation was the punishment and the eternal damnation alike.

“I looked away. Yellow and I both did. She wanted more from life, and we wanted to contain her life into… into a little box that could fit on the shelf with all our other trophies. She was our accomplishment, you see, our legacy.”

Three…

Blue Diamond’s hand fell away from the door, so she could bring it up to her mouth in a futile attempt to dam the sobs that racked her shoulders.

Four…

“We looked away. The night that she… she—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word aloud. She wasn’t brave like Steven. “We thought she was in her room, and I didn’t tell her that I loved her that night because we had argued… I thought I’d get the chance the next day or the day after that because we argued all the time. It was normal for us.”

On and on and never again.

When was the last time Blue Diamond had said those three words to her daughter?

These past four years, she had scoured her brain for the answer, but the answer was as elusive as the phrase was from her mouth.

For the simple truth of the matter was that she hadn’t said it very often.

In all her vast intellect, she had always assumed that it was assumed.

Implied.

Understood.

You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

I love you, she could have said.

You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

I didn’t want you to, she would have replied then. I wanted you to collect dust with all the rest of our awards and certificates. I wanted you safe, where I could see you. I wanted to quantify the entirety of your life and itemize the particulars. I wanted you to always be mine.

I love you.

I looked away.

An oxymoron.

A tragedy.

Five…

“So if I look at you, Steven Universe,” she murmured, screwing her eyes closed tightly against the pain, “really look at you, then I have to face that truth again—that I loved someone once… and I looked away… and now she’s… gone.”

And that was the immutable truth of the matter, the conclusion she circled around to no matter how many times the Earth continued to revolve away from the day since Pink Diamond had last existed on this world.

Four thousand revolutions later, and this would still be what it came down to in the end.

Her daughter’s blood was on her hands, staining them crimson, veining her lifelines with the guilt and the awfulness and the unbearable, crucifying shame.

And her daughter’s blood cried out, You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

And every time she so much as looked at her own palms, that was the only echo she saw written across their hollows.

Those last words.

Unanswered.

Unfinished.

Undoing and undone.

Six…

“But… I’m not gone yet,” Steven argued softly. His voice fought to be heard over all the machinery keeping him alive. “I’m here.”

He must have moved because blankets shifted somewhere behind her.

Dead children didn’t move.

Dead children weren’t here.

They were simply—

Seven…

Eight…

Nine…

Ten…

Do it, she commanded herself.

Look at him.

But Blue Diamond was frozen, and she was statuesque; she was a calcification barely anchored on the foundation of her cane. One false move and she would crumble entirely.

The safest bet on her own survival was to limp away and dare not look behind her lest she turn to salt and dust.

Someone else could clean up the carnage.

That woman who stood at the door—she’d do it—Greg Universe and the boy’s other guardians, too.

Don’t hurt him, that same woman had also said. He likes you.

Eleven…

Twelve…

Thirteen...

vi.

It was wash day.

For nearly a year and half after Pink Diamond died, Yellow would force Blue out of bed every few days for a bath or a shower—usually a shower because it was becoming increasingly hard for the CEO to lift her wife in and out of the tub.

Today was a tub sort of occasion, though.

Date night with the Diamonds.

The presence of death was always with them, though, an intrusive third wheel.

With a slight groan, Yellow lowered herself into the warm water behind Blue, steam rising around their naked skin like curling smoke. Once upon a time, this used to be a favorite pastime of theirs, a chance to reacquaint themselves with each other and their bodies… but now the gesture was simply hygienic in purpose, asexual and quiet.

It was always quiet in the Diamonds’ penthouse suite these days.

Silent.

“Is it too hot?” Yellow asked, her voice as gentle as she could wrangle it. Somehow, at the same time, it was still edged with the trappings of harshness. “I can add some cold water?"

She waited briefly for a reply that would never come.

Blue stared limply at her knees, pulled up awkwardly as they were to her chest. Her sensitive skin had already reddened in a couple of places where it was touching the water. There were pink fingerprints wrapped around her armpits where she’d been handled into the tub.

“I think it’s too hot. You’re getting a rash.” A well-manicured hand flashed out from behind her ear and knobbed the far left tap. There was a quick murmur and then the steady hiss of cold water.

“There,” she humphed satisfactorily. “This’ll feel better.”

The running stream answered its assent.

Blue Diamond did not say a word.

She hadn’t in days now, maybe even weeks; time was irrelevant to her, and the words would not come.

There was only a dullness in her head, numb and numbing, like an icy compress coiled tightly around her thoughts.

Yellow didn’t think so, but this was better than the alternative; this was the far superior solution to the problem, the pain, and the pervasiveness of the ghost who was their daughter Pink Diamond.

Because when the analgesic of her own catatonia faded, and some of the feeling tried to seep through, her chest would unfailingly tighten, a vice squeezing hard upon her weary heart.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her child was dead.

“I…”

The sound came from behind her, guttural and choked, as though the speaker was fighting hard against the noise and losing the war.

“I’m so tired, Blue.”

It was an admission, and it was a copout.

Both of them knew that Blue Diamond wasn’t registering a single word.

She heard them—yes, this was true.

But they came to her—they landed softly—like distant echoes; she did not feel the pain of them, the visceral agony; at the present moment, she did not even feel her own pain, the grief and the scalding water and the grief.

Because it was always the grief she was trying to repress.

Everything else was just ancillary.

“You don’t know, goddammit, you can’t know, how exhausted I am.” Yellow Diamond’s voice shattered in the tub.

And her entire body hitched.

As though to keep that from breaking, too.

“You exhaust me, Blue Diamond. You exhaust me every single day. And you don’t even know it, goddammit. Who are you? What the hell have you become?”

The question was delivered to her backside, where it slipped down her tall, curving spine and into the water, splashing there with the delivery of the tap. With a violence that was almost cruel, Yellow reached from behind her again and flung it back into an off position.

There was quietness then.

It was so still, that it was disquiet.

It was always quiet in the Diamonds’ penthouse suite these days.

Silent.

Blue continued to stare blankly at her knees.

There were red patches on her skin.

Her child was dead.

After a moment’s hesitation, her breath heavy on the back of Blue’s long, slender neck, Yellow Diamond gathered her silvery hair gently in one hand and grabbed the comb on the side of the tub with another.

She was careful as she maneuvered its teeth through damp, lank strands.

She always was.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Blue.”

That was what Blue Diamond’s note would say merely a few months later.

I’m sorry and I’m sorry and I’m sorry.

Love always, Blue.

But that was the crucial thing, wasn’t it?

Sorry was not enough; love was not enough.

Because if love had been enough, Pink Diamond would still be alive.

vii.

In a hospital room pierced through with golden sun, Blue Diamond turned around and faced the light of day, her heavy braid swinging along with the slow, deliberate motion.

She wasn’t looking away, Steven Universe.

She was staring straight at him—at his sunken face and his tubing and at the catheter bag and at the sunflowers.

The boy was dying, but he was not yet dead.

It wasn’t much.

At the very least, though, it was something.

He was not gone, even if he was going.

He was here.

In this moment, in this very ephemeral second.

The heart monitor on the wall attested to that; it counted his heartbeats; it pleaded with her to have hope.

(Hope was such an awful word.)

“Those are beautiful flowers,” she whispered. Her cane clinked against the tiled floor as she carefully drew closer to observe them better.

Their petals were tall and spiky, assaulting the air with attentiveness and regal magnitude.

They vaguely reminded her of Yellow.

With a light finger, she tried to prop up one that was beginning to droop beneath the weight of all its brethren, but the moment she withdrew her touch, it fell again, sighing listlessly.

Poor thing.

“But not quite as pretty as that hibiscus you bequeathed me.”

Steven’s eyes, edged with the trace remnant of his tears, were wide and dark, full of velvet and silvery stars.

“You don’t still have it, do you?” He asked, incredulous and rather pleased.

He played a little with his hands on top of his blankets.

He tried to tamp down his hope for an affirmative with an unconvincing casualness.

Blue Diamond’s smile bruised her lips.

“I placed it on my nightstand, sweet boy, so I could look at it everyday.”

It took a second, but the irony of that word choice was not lost on either of them.

viii.

Yellow Diamond placed the failed suicide note on her nightstand for Blue to see and know that she saw. They didn’t talk about it afterwards.

How could they?

What was there to say?

It remained there for a few days afterwards, shriveled and guilty-looking next to the alarm clock; every time she opened her eyes, she would see it and feel its quiet condemnation. She would close her eyes against its glare and wait for sleep or numbness one to wrestle her into the dark.

One day, she woke up, and the paper was gone again.

The realization drew a frown across her wrinkled face.

When she thought about getting up to search for it, and mustered the appropriate will to get out of bed, apparently, many days had passed in the interim.

A month.

She only recognized this upon surveying her bathroom on her way to the toilet; she couldn't find her shaving razor anywhere.

One night—the day, the month, the year undetermined in the abscessed haze of her mind—a dull ache throbbed through Blue’s hip, growing in intensity and sharpness with each passing second that she laid on the wounded area.

There was a part of her, not entirely inconsequential, that invited the pain. For after all, suffering was the only victory the woman had left in the entire world; she wrestled with it nightly, and she embraced it. She made it her new lover and exchanged an oath that only death would do them part. She didn’t shoot herself, or cut herself, or swallow a handful of pills that would surely do the trick.

She laid on her bad hip and convinced herself that she deserved it.

But that night—whatever night that it was—the agony was unbearable, pulling at her all over.

With a groan that wasn’t voluntary, Blue wrested herself into some semblance of a sitting position and looked for her phone so that she could call Livia for an ice pack, but it wasn’t on the bedside table as it usually was… and since it wasn’t in its usual position, she had no clue where she had last left it.

If she wanted relief, she would have to brave the kitchen herself.

She wanted relief, and the guilt of it half-immobilized her.

So she sat there for a couple more minutes still and endured the stabbing ache before finally coaxing herself upwards into the dark night of the bedroom.

Assuming her cane in one hand, Blue crept silently towards the door and out of it, where the hallway stretched out before her like a cavernous tunnel, all the lights extinguished.

Even the telltale glow of lamp warmth that usually emitted from the study across the hall was gone out, which meant that Yellow had likely succumbed to sleep on the couch within.

A twinge of something bothered Blue’s sternum at the thought.

She limped forward anyway and all the same, lifting her cane off the floor to keep from making noise; the wall was her guide in its stead, the pads of her long fingers moving along its smooth planes until she reached the end of the archway, where she immediately intuited that she wasn’t alone.

In the moonlight that wept into the living room through the tall windowpanes, Yellow Diamond was a stark figure sitting on the edge of the couch, leached of all her color. Her blonde hair, her silky pajamas, the leathery musculature of her corded neck—all of it was leveled by blinding whiteness.

Illuminated.

Vulnerable.

Exposed.

When her wife swallowed, she could see every line in her powerful jaw working through the peristaltic motion.

In the shadowed hallway, Blue Diamond stood still, even though the sharp pain in her hip demanded attention.

For this moment, this night, this moonlit haunting did not belong to her—even though most of them usually did.

She understood, somewhere in the mire of her own head, that to disturb this scene would be sacrilege. So she watched, and she waited.

Yellow Diamond was holding something between her sharp, angular hands.

With a jolt, she realized that it was Spinel, a stuffed pink cat who had been Pink’s favorite companion once upon a time. Her left ear was still stained from the tea Yellow had once accidentally dripped on it during a princess tea party.

Washed it though they had—several times over—the spot was stubborn; Spinel had been permanently marked.

“S’okay, Momma,” Pink had only said, grinning up at them both from gapped teeth. She had hugged the toy to her chest. The affected ear brushed against the side of her freckled neck. “That just means she’s one of a kind."

Yellow’s fingers were wrapped around the cat’s plush stomach tenderly; she stared at it from depthless, ancient eyes.

It struck Blue Diamond—then and there—that she wanted something more from this vignette; she wanted Yellow to say something. Selfishly, she desired a confirmation for what she had already so trenchantly inferred.

She wanted, she desired, she longed, she needed to know that her wife was broken, too.

It was a horrible hunger, an itch that felt terrible to scratch.

But Blue Diamond was voracious.

Sometimes, maybe even oftentimes, she could be cruel.

After a long while, though, Yellow Diamond only placed the cat down on the coffee table and stared out into the irradiated night with her hands templed below her sharp chin, lost in silent thought.

She looked older than she ever had in all of their collected years together.

She was only fifty-four.

ix.

They talked—for a long while—as the sun slipped away from the sky, sunset coming in fragments through the slats in the window blinds.

Blue Diamond held Steven’s hand, the one that didn’t have so many IVs in it, and rubbed smooth circles against his wrist.

“Pearl does that, too,” he smiled at her softly through hooded eyes when she began. “It’s nice.”

They talked about everything, and they talked about nothing.

He told her about his favorite show, which seemed to be about morose breakfast items from what she could vaguely surmise, and he talked to her, very quietly, about his disease.

It was rapidly progressing, far more quickly than his nephrologist had anticipated.

“Those chocolate cakes we shared on your balcony,” he admitted with the air of a child waiting to be scolded, “I may have accidentally puked them up in your toilet. Sorry..."

“It’s of no consequence,” she returned with a small, sad smile.

And this was very well true.

She wasn’t the one who had to clean it after all.

They talked about everything, and they talked about nothing.

Blue told him about the sunrise yesterday, how all the colors had seeped together in a swirl of delicious color, and she talked to him, very quietly, about Pink.

“In the best of possible ways,” she mumbled, the sound caught in the column of her throat, “you remind me of her sometimes. She smiled at everything, even when there wasn’t exactly something to be smiled about.”

“That’s a very pretty way to put it.” Steven wriggled a thumb from beneath her palm to stay it against the side of her hand.

“Yes,” she nodded gently, “I suppose so.”

When it was time for her to leave—a team of nurses had come in to administer Steven’s evening medicines and check his vitals—she pressed a kiss against his forehead.

Very light and very soft.

“You didn’t look away,” he whispered against her cheek as she withdrew. His breath was sickly sweet with disease. “Thank you, Blue.”

She froze, meeting his eyes.

There was hesitancy, and there was consuming grief.

The scribble of guilt.

Scrawled all over her face.

“I wanted to, though,” she breathed. “If we're being technical... if we're being fair... I think the impulse counts against me.”

“But you didn’t.”

Steven’s chapped lips tilted into the beginnings of a smile.

“And that’s what matters, right?”

She brushed a stray curl off of his clammy forehead and thought about Pink and Yellow and all the things she did and didn’t do.

She loved them.

She looked away.

“Yes,” she told Steven Universe.

Yes.

Alone, Blue Diamond slowly crossed the skywalk, her silvery hair crowned in all the colors of the sunset, a phone pressed against her ear.

Her cane struck the tiled floor with each shuffled step forward.

Clank.

The dial tone droned rhythmically—bzzt and bzzt and bzzt.

Clank.

She felt her heart work its way up her throat, clambering up its fleshy rungs. The immensity of what she was doing transformed her nervous system into a network of beating, pulsing neuroses.

She was ready for this, and she was not.

She could do this; she half-hoped that she wouldn't receive an answer.

Clank.

And then—

“Blue?” Yellow Diamond’s low voice threw its instinctive panic across the line. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Because this was new.

And yet, achingly familiar.

So many years of having not sought Yellow out—all those weeks, days, and months—were well-established patterns that were not easily overturned and undone.

All those collective hurts—hundreds of them, thousands.

Four years of misery sat between them like four hundred thousand miles.

Blue Diamond swallowed thickly, stopping dead in her tracks as the spillage of people continued to swarm all around her like a package freed of its contents: doctors and patients and sundry other visitors. She was the eye of their storm, and yet, she was just another broken person in the midst of so many other broken people. She was separate from them, and yet, she was their intimate kin. The contradiction seemed untenable, unworkable like all the rest.

Her fingers tightened on the head of her cane.

“I’m… I’m fine, Yellow,” she began. “Please don’t worry. I just had to… I wanted to tell you something. Are you busy?”

On the other end of the line, somewhere in a giant, yellow skyscraper at the edge of Empire City, there was the sharp intake of breath.

And the hesitant beginnings of a fearful reply.

It was a start, though.

And that was what mattered, right?

Yes, Blue Diamond thought to herself.

Yes.

#bellow diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #steven universe #garnet #greg universe #s: steven universe #mimik-u #flower child #holy shit - i can't believe i wrote this

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sal2724 · 4 years

Text

SUPERSTITIONS

So what do we mean by superstitions. It is a belief that things such as magic or luck have the power to affect your life.

ORIGIN

Superstitions are believed to be going on from ancient times. They are kind of trends that is going on over generations. These are not only followed in one country but all over the world, the only difference is that different countries have different kind of superstitions. And if we talk about my own country, “India”, I would say this is the epicentre of superstitions.

WHY PEOPLE TEND TO BELIEVE IN SUPERSTITIONS

According to me, superstitions is all about a belief that if we do something than something bad would not happen with us or our family.

So the thing is that in order to keep us safe from bad luck we start believing in stuff which has no scientific significance. But the main point here is that we do all this to keep us safe. And now you guys can obviously say what’s the harm in doing something which is keeping us safe. But then I would say if those superstitions are keeping us safe then why do anything bad happen within the world and specially with people who believe in all this a lot. Like if all that is true why would anybody fall ill, why would anybody faces defeat, why do anybody gets unemployed and why not everybody is rich.

And then you know the reply for this will be the fact that it’s their “Karma”. I even don’t know if this concept is true but then most of believe on this that there is something called “Karma” or “Destiny”. So it’s okay, at least we are not doing anything irrelevant for this concept. So if you guys believe in karma then why being superstitious???

Okay so now if we look at this from other point of view, it’s more like those superstitions didn’t arise from someone’s imagination but according to me it’s a matter of coincidence. Yeah I know u guys didn’t follow up what I said. So I think like something happened because somebody did something and then when another person did the same thing that something happened again. So it gave people a sense that if do that thing then that something good will happen. And then that stories started passing through generations and generations even until now!

SOME WEIRD SUPERSTITIONS AROUND THE WORLD

1) Never Say "Happy Birthday" Too Early

Celebrating or even congratulating someone on a birthday before the day arrives brings bad luck, at least in Russia that is.

2) Don't Place Two Mirrors Opposite Each Other

The infinite reflections may look cool, but in Mexico and elsewhere facing mirrors open a doorway for the devil.

3) Never Stick Your Chopstick Straight Up

Poking chopsticks down into your food is a big no-no in Japan. The utensils look like the unlucky number four, which means death, and also the incense sticks used at funerals. Another tip: Don't point your chopsticks at anyone. That's just plain rude.

4) Give a Penny If You've Received Something Sharp

Gifting anything with a blade can supposedly sever a relationship, so if you receive a knife set or a pair of scissors as a present, give the person a coin in return.

5) Don't Go Right Home After a Funeral

A Filipino tradition called "pagpag" dictates that people never go straight back to the house after a wake. Otherwise a bad spirit might tag along and come inside. Mourners will make a stop at a restaurant or store first just in case.

6) Whistling Indoors Invites Evil

Whistling while you work may be an issue in Lithuania where it's forbidden to whistle indoors because the noise is believed to summon demons.

7) Don't Cheers With Water

A German superstition declares that if you cheers with water you're actually wishing death upon the people you're drinking with. The idea stems from Greek mythology.

8) Avoid Sleeping With Your Head to the North

According to Japanese superstition, sleeping with your head in this direction is bad luck because that's how the deceased are laid to rest.

9) And Avoid Sleeping With Your Head to the West

Conversely, the same superstition exists in Africa if you sleep with your head to the west.

10) Keep Your New Shoes Off the Table

In Britain, it's considered bad luck because it is supposed to symbolize the death of a loved one. Back in the day, placing someone's shoes on a table was a way to let their family know that they passed away. Nowadays, it's also just bad etiquette.

THERE ARE MANY SUCH, THE LIST IS NEVER ENDING!!!

#superstition #blog #new blog #writing #follow #like

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claraxbarton · 5 years

Text

MCU Bucky Barnes

So here’s the thing.

I’m a costume designer by trade, and one thing that I actually really love about Captain America: The Winter Soldier (okay, among the things I love) is the costume design and the rhetorical value given to the clothes and, well, costumes in this movie.

For example - when Sam and Steve have their heart to heart on the bridge that ends with Sam saying “but he doesn’t even know you” and Steve saying “he will” before going to steal his old uniform - the one Bucky last saw him in when he was Bucky. There are some other great costume points in this movie, actually a LOT of them (costumes, not wigs, don’t at me because I KNOW).

But one thing that has always stood out to me, and not in a good way, is the “I’m with you til the end of the line” flashback.

Now, here’s the thing, it’s not JUST about the clothes. We’re in MCU verse, so it’s MCU canon - obviously, the Steve and Bucky duo is drastically different in Marvel comics canon so - and Bucky starts this scene by saying his folks wanted to give Steve a ride to the cemetery.

Which is super cool and nice. So one, we know Bucky’s dad is still alive - and his mom, but two, we know they have a car.

So this is supposed to be when Steve is around 16? So it’s... 1936 (according to MCU wiki it totally is)

So cars.

Crazy popular ever since they started having closed bodies and all that. BUT, were they crazy popular in CITIES in 1936? Especially in the middle of the Great Depression?

There’s some evidence that actually no, that car ownership in a city like NYC was something like 1 car per every 43 people. Then again, looking at the NYC.gov 2015 Mobility Report we see that the population of NYC in 1936 is something like 7.2 million, and the number of registered vehicles in 764,000... or roughly one per every 9.4-ish persons. Which is a pretty drastically different number. This doesn't, of course, account for taxis or fleet cars being registered - so the number might seem inflated. I still think it’s probably something closer to 1 car per every 20 than every 43 but... I’m too lazy to dig that much deeper at the moment. Plus I'm sick, which is fueling this in the first place.

So, anyway you slice it, Bucky’s family was in 11%, 5% or 2.33% of New Yorkers who own cars in 1936. Which says something, I think, about Bucky Barnes that we don’t always - ever? - think of in fandom.

I’m not going to say that Bucky Barnes was loaded. Maybe his family owned a garage or a grocery store or a delivery service or a funeral home...?? or something. So, the vehicle could be occupational as opposed to private usage - but either way it’s a statement. Bucky’s family has money and/or Bucky’s family has steady employment.

I’ve been there. I’ve read the fics where Bucky works at the docks to put Steve through art school and get him his medicine. I love those fics. I love that head canon.

But I... don’t think it’s realistic in light of some evidence showing us that, actually, Bucky wasn’t doing too badly for himself.

Let’s now actually look at CLOTHING. Here’s the whole scene via youtube, if you want to follow along with what is about to get RIDICULOUS.

Actually, before I dive in, who is the costumer for this movie? And should I be like... reading into all this as much as I am?

Judianna Makovsky - fellow New Jersey..Ian?ite?no clue - 3 time Oscar nominee and designer of 5 MCU films and a lot of other big budget movies, including quite a few period pieces dealing with issues of race and class (The Legend of Bagger Vance, Seabiscuit, The Little Princess.. and also like Harry Potter and The Quick and the The Dead.) So, should I have some faith in Judianna Makovsky’s designs? I’m gonna go with yeah, yeah I should.

So, back to the movie. The scene.

This is post funeral. We’re in 1936. As a general rule, the dress, colors and style of mourning wear was pretty much formalized in the early Victorian era. There was a great - read PHENOMENAL - exhibit at the MET a few years back on Mourning-wear and I’m still reeling from how lovely everything was - but the gist of it is this: you wore black when someone died. If you were a lady, and especially if you were a rich lady, you then went through a few different colors (dull black to SHINY black to purple/mauve and gray and white and then back to color within six months to one year). By the 1930s only the really rich were sticking to the actual rules of mourning - or like, really old people. And, of course, really old rich people. Really old rich WHITE people. Because it needs to be said: these are WHITE customs. I'm not saying people of other ethnicities didn’t follow them, but these are basically British Victorian practices that were assimilated into American culture.

I’m not going to go off on a huge sidebar about American fashion following in French dressmaking and British tailoring, but I need to say at least that much. Everyone who was anyone knew you got your dresses made in France or in the French style and you got your suits made in England - Savile Row in specific. I am NOT implying Bucky’s got himself an English suit, fyi. I just... have to be thorough.

BACK TO THE SCENE:

We’ve got our boy Steve. STEVE. Who just buried Sarah Rogers and what is he wearing...?

For starters, he’s wearing a windbreaker, check out the 1933 ad below, he’s the guy almost giving us the Fonz finger gesture, or maybe guy in the fedora on the end.

This thing isn’t falling apart at the seams, but it’s a very nondescript not really gray, not really blue - maybe was at one point. It also doesn’t FIT Steve. It also, in the ad above, would cost about $165.40 in today’s money.

My guess? It’s Bucky’s old windbreaker. Because it’s not cheap and because it’s just a bit too big on Steve.

He’s also wearing a shirt that is maybe tan? And a brown tie and maybe - MAYBE black trousers. And if those trousers are black, it’s the only black thing he’s wearing. Not even a black tie, or a black arm band (which I’m pretty sure - but also pretty aggressively atheist so I don’t know - the Catholic Church would have provided for chief mourners and pall bearers right?). We also have our depressing as all shit Depression surroundings to clue us in: Steve Rogers ain’t loaded. Steve Rogers is poor as dirt. Side note: boys. Hiding a key under the ONE FUCKING BRICK on a walkway is not like... a smart idea???

So we can guess a few things here, we can guess that Steve and Sarah were really struggling - this checks out with the rest of MCU canon (wearing newspapers stuffed in his shoes, even when he had nothing he had Bucky, etc.) - and that all money probably went towards Steve’s numerous ailments, food and then the TB medication or treatment, as it was, that was available to Sarah.

We can maybe guess that Steve and Sarah weren’t very religious -but I don’t feel qualified to impart anything except my own agenda here so I’m not taking that stance. But like, real talk, not even an arm band??

But, well, let’s move on to the point of this whole long ass thing anyway?

Then we go to Mr. Barnes, looking dapper AF. Also, hey, check out this ad from 1933 featuring... pretty much exactly what Bucky is wearing down to the god-damn two-tone shoes:

If you’re curious, yeah $24.98 in 1936 is $475.44. I'm not suggesting Bucky Barnes went out and bought a brand new suit for Steve’s mother’s funeral - for one thing, this ad is from 1933. BUT, that suit fits Bucky. Quite well, and it’s in good shape. He’s also sporting that super stylish mid-late 30s into 40s deeply angled collar shirt - as is our dude up in the ad - and so we know these clothes are at least new-ish. We also can see that the suit is definitely of the mid-30s moving into the boxy silhouette of the later 30s and early 40s and NOT the look of the 20s and early 30s, which has an almost bell-bottom fullness to the legs instead of our straight-leg here (though we can debate nuance if you want to hit up my DMs.)

I should note, Bucky’s shirt is not bright and pristine white - it’s kind of grayish? And I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be an old-timey sepia thing or an indication that Bucky can’t afford to... bleach a white shirt? So that’s an odd choice for sure because we’re still in an age when a crisp, white collar shirt means something (Hey, if you want to hear me go on about the democratization of men’s fashion via shirt collars and 19th century Victorian suits, let me know because I am READY).

All this is to say: I don’t think Bucky Barnes is a poor dock worker. I think Bucky Barnes of MCU canon. Okay, so the MCU wiki on Bucky/The Winter Soldier is an actual mess (because it tells us that Sarah died in 1936 and that’s FINE but I’m not going back to change my math because I’m SICK so just... I went back and changed it. She died in 1936. Fine. The damn wiki also says that “a year later, during their art class, Barnes and Rogers found out that the United States of America had joined World War II. Which, like, I’m sick, but there are a few years between 1936 and December 8 1941... just... I’m no rocket doctor but...

ANYWAY. Bucky is a three time YMCA welterweight boxing champion by this “year later”/ 1941-1942. He and Steve are also in an ART CLASS together. Bucky also trained Steve in boxing at Goldie’s gym before the two of them went to enlist - Steve rejected and Bucky, again quoting MCU wiki, “drafted” (which I'm gonna take to mean he didn’t try to enlist when Steve got rejected, they went home and Bucky got called up later but... hey, who knows?!).

So, I can’t easily find the prices of gym memberships in NYC in the 1930s right now because I don’t feel like wading through all of the articles complaining about Equinox pricing in 2019. But I do know that part of Roosevelt’s WPA (Works Progress Administration) building projects included building more public gyms - as well as libraries, auditoriums, pools, parks etc. Check out your local public buildings - if they are WPA projects they will have a cool plaque like my local NJ library does! All that is to say, there were free or very cheap PUBLIC options where Bucky could have trained Steve.

Bucky trained Steve in a private gym. Do I like to think that this is the same gym Steve and America’s ass are working out in in The Avengers? Yes, Yes I do. Do I like to think that Steve likes to box because it reminds him of Bucky? Yes, yes I do.

But moving on: it’s another sign of wealth.

So is this “art class.” Whether we are in 1937 or 1941 - we’re still in the Depression. Steve still has all of his health issues and presumably accompanying “medication” (wanna talk 1930s medicine? Again, slide into my DMs or shoot me an ask). So Steve either has a side job making enough to cover all of that, rent? and enrollment in an art class.

OR maybe Steve is teaching the art class and Bucky is his model for life drawing instruction (yeah, it’s a fic bunny I’m sharing with the world).

OR maybe... Bucky is paying the rent and other things or Steve is living with Bucky and can afford the class and meds... somehow or...

OR I'm not saying that Steve is Bucky’s kept man because Steve Rogers would punch anyone who dared to say such a thing.

All I’m saying is, Bucky Barnes was not a poor dude. Bucky Barnes... had some money.

And also I’m about to be late for my doctor’s appointment so I gotta run.

At me with your thoughts!

#Bucky barnes #James Buchanan barnes #winter soldier #Steve rogers #captain america #marvel #mcu #meta #head-canon #costume design #character thoughts

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laughing-at-the-night · 4 years

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Tagged by @midnightanddiamonds and boy was this fun!! Don’t look at the questions just state the ten ships and then go for it!! Thank you v. Much for tagging me!!! I had lots of fun doing this tag!!

1- Thirteenth Doctor and Dhawan!Master

2- Barney Stinson and Robin Scherbatsky

3- Ross Poldark and Demelza

4- Miranda Blake and Max Winter

5- Merlin and Arthur

6- Steve and Tony

7- Kaz and Inej

8- Dean and Castiel

9- Tenth Doctor and Rose

10- Brienne and Jaime

1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6?

- YES!! I was watching Avengers Assemble for the billionth time and thought heh Cap and Tony... looks good to me!!

2. Have you ever read a FanFiction about 2?

- a few yes! Not many because I didn’t get obsessed with this pairing but it was like a guilty pleasure fic for me!

3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr?

- sadly not!! But I do have a few of their quotes all over my Instagram and on my light box! “Compañeros, right?”

4. If 7 were to suddenly break-up today, what would your reaction be?

- No mourners, no funerals

5. Why is 1 so important?

- because it was the first time I ever considered The Doctor and The Master to be a ship! plus Jodie and Sacha have SUCH good chemistry!!!

6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship?

- this was my first ship ship. It broke my heart went Rose went to live in the parallel world. It’s serious and funny because it was love. The first love I saw on screen that I attached to with all that my 9 year old self had!

7. Out of all of the ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry?

- Max and Miranda. Purely because they have a will they won’t they relationship going on and she’s so headstrong and clear in her affections for him it honestly kills me when she has to hide that part of herself because she wants Max to come to the conclusion on his own.

8. Out of all of your ships listed, which ship has the strongest bond?

- damn, I mean Merlin and Arthur are two sides of the same coin so there’s that. Castiel pulled Dean out of hell. Max and Miranda just KNOW each other without words. They have each other’s back. But Brienne and Jaime?? I mean, he lost his hand to defend her, a woman who hours before had been his captor. They fought at the battle of winterfell and he knighted her. Those two for sure have the strongest bond!!

9. How many times have you read/watched 8’s fandom?

- Not so much now, but I used to watch it a lot back in High School! I even got to meet Misha and have a hug! I was obsessed but that died away quick because I got super into Marvel so this was defo 2012😂😂

10. Which ship has lasted the longest?

- Tenth Doctor and Rose. 14 years and going strong!! Those two are an OTP!! And also because he’s a time lord sooo they can last for a looong time. And have technically been together since War Doctor/ idk late days of Nine??

11. How many times, if ever, has 2 broken up?

- uhhha few. I mean I don’t count the finale episode so in my head they’re still married but canon wise it’s anyone’s guess!

12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8?

-Dean and Castiel because they actually have fought in an apocalypse and won so 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

13. Did 5 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason?

- they’ve never been in a relationship but Merlin spent all five series hiding his magic so there’s that??

14. Is 4 still together?

- they’re not actually together together in the show but they are a Detective duo soooo yes in that sense and not yet in the romantic sense!

15. Is 3 canon?

- yes!!! A relationship spanning over 12 books and five series!!!

16. If all 10 ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win?

- uhhhhh, maybe dean and Cas because he’s an angel? But 1 has the Master and he’s a genocidal maniac so he’d be down to kill but just not for Thirteen 😂😂

17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 10’s ship?

- Cersei fucking Lannister has.

18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond?

- Max and Miranda. Purely because it’s the first ship that actually is going somewhere that probably won’t end in heartache and is going to be happy and hopefully won’t be a will they won’t they Naa situation.

19. Do you spend hours a day going through 1’s tumblr page?

- nope. I used to be religiously on tumblr back in 2012 but I worked out it wasn’t for me pretty quickly and just decided to go on it occasionally!

20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she´d break them all forever, which ship would you sink?

- no doubt, Thirteen and Dhawan! Master because she hella mad at him right now so they could do with a bit of a break up 😂😂

#tagged #maxandmiranda #stony #braime

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fanesavin · 5 years

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High Raj Avitej Sharma, First of his Name is laid to rest but the people’s voice rings out across the city. A new Raj must be found, and quickly before the city falls to chaos.

@thisbrutalbelle / @imviapassmeabeer / @faye-andrews / @ianncardero / @scarlettxruby / @mayaparker / @rydenbolt

THE ROYAL FUNERAL.

Even with the Queen of the Dead Woods injured after the assassination attempt in the Lower City, the Royal Funeral still had to proceed as planned. If anything, the incidents in the past few days almost demanded some distraction, and a big distraction full of gravitas and extravagance.

Where the first days of mourning had been silent murmurs among the people trying to pay respect for their beloved dead High Raj, by now the rumours, accusations, and paranoia flew around like paper in a windstorm. Some said that House Kesley was the only House that stood behind High Raj, and the other Houses were all behind his murder. Other’s say the Red Priestess tried to light the Castle on fire, and supported the Kesleys to rule. Some said all the Kesleys had been killed by the Inquisitor, and good riddance. Others said the High Inquisitor was consorting with witches - both in and out of bed. Some say he bribed the Knight Commander, others say the Forty Isles Heir Apparent and Ward Danian are in a plot to usurp the throne and send the High Inquisitor packing. The assassination attempt on the Queen of the Dark Woods factioned people in the Lower City. The damage to the buildings and to some of the commonfolk made the area of the attack a hotspot of fear. Some said it was cursed now, and burned any sight of plants in the area, causing an even larger fire to rage for a few hours. Some said they have seen the Darkness and now try to worship it too, and considered the werewolf soldiers their Holy Protectors. Others considered the attack well-founded, and beg for guidance from the Red Priestess and her god of Light.

But despite all these fractured beliefs and rumours, one shout is unified from the outside: A new High Raj.

The people needed order and discipline. They had hoped for it when the High Raj was first appointed. Their mids were still fixed fast on the necessity for someone, somehow, to guide them. An Inquisition was not there to rule, and the people had waited long enough for peace.

Despite their limited resources while stuck in the Keep, with the Forty Isles money and the Queen of the Dark Woods’ sense of ~aesthetic~, the day of the funeral was as ceremonial and grandiose as Prince Iann had urged it to be. It started in the Core City of course, through the Upper City, down the largest main street of the Lower City and down onto the Waytried Docks. The people gathered in droves. The Cloverry was in full presence, coin showering the streets of the Upper and Lower Cities in the wake of the large casket.

The call, as the Master of Whispers found out later, actually started in the Core City. It happened once the High Raj’s pyre was lit, and set to float on the calm ocean waves. As it floated away to the horizon, and the musical procession faded in sombre silence:

“A new High Raj. We need a new High Raj!” The call was picked up, spread across the entire Capital, shortened. “High Raj! HIGH RAJ! HIGH RAJ!!!” Bells tolled then, drowning them out: but the message was clear. The people were tired of waiting. They wanted - needed - a new High Raj, now.~

The priestess stood in her dark robes, a silent spectator to the funeral of the would be High Raj. While she did not share in the faith of most of the other mourners, the waste of life snd the violence in which it ended were proof that there was one god they would all meet: the god of death. Yet her lord had called her here for a reason: to bring the Unnamed Blade to The One. But she had not been told who they were. Not yet. But it would come. The Lord of Light always showed his presence. When the time was right.

Bella could not walk by any means, her body weak from the incident prior and her legs bound in bandages rather than their usual jewels, so another member of the families in the Keep loaned the Queen a horse to ride alongside the casket, the new aged wolf not departing her side, seeming to eye everything as the High Raj's body was removed from the keep to begin the funeral procession at the Core City and head outward. Bella was resistant to go but with so many guards and Royals this time she assumed her family would not be so confident.

The affair was certainly...strange. Bella was not aware of all the customs that the High Raj's people, or those of Bluesprings, and while she had tried her best to learn them a great did did not make sense. So when all waited for the body to come from the keep to begin the process, they were likely not expecting what came, the High Raj's coffin a hollowed out tree, carved along it's trunk with limericks in a foreign tongue of a song once sung about the High Raj before he had been appointed, jewels dug into it in many places. The branches of the tree had been manipulated and shaped into a crown, while where the Raj laid was made of moss, sprinkled with ground diamond so he seemed to shine beneath the evenings light. Of course it had to be done in the evening, for the true show to begin.

Iann stood by the Red Priestess. For once it wasn't a strategic or political placement. He merely needed a place to stand, and the Red Priestess happened to be at a good vantage point. If only so she knew she was noticed by at least one person in the crowd...so alright maybe Iann's choice was a little strategic. He couldn't help it; he was a Prince. Playing the Game was second nature to him. He nodded at her, then watched the Queen Bellamy assembled with the coffin. "Are you still here alone, Priestess?" Iann asked, quietly. "I see no other of your ilk here in the courtyard."

Maya slipped in among the nobles as the funeral procession was about to begin. Bellamy sat atop a horse near where the front of the procession would be. Among the crowd, Maya spotting Iann and the Red Priestess. Her expression tightened at the sight of the woman who had exposed her. But Maya knew better than to start an altercation at a funeral, especially with a priestess. Instead she made her way through the crowd, listening for any useful tidbits.

Ephram attended the gathering in the courtyard, standing a decent ways away from the actual bier created from the hollow tree. He'd attended a fair share of funerals in his own holding, most of House Pettaline having been decimated by war or the wasting sickness that had swept the East, but this was an entirely foreign entity. The state funeral of the High Raj, presented by the apparent Queen of the Dark Woods in her own style. It seemed like it would be prudent to be present, but not ... involved.

The Red Priestess didn’t look at the prince as he spoke to her. Her eyes were on the body of the Raj, so resplendent in the grip of death. She seemed slightly troubled, though she did not speak of it if she was. “I am never alone, Your Grace,” she said quietly.

Bella was not near the coffin by any means, as it was carried out of the building by guards and members of the Clovvery, placing it onto the carriage that would pull it Bella was merely observing with the rest of the royalty that would eventually open the gates and allow everyone through. She had no intention of being near the High Raj's body after last night. It was evident how the commonfolk saw her.

"Ah yes, your Lord of Light." He looked over at the funeral assembled in the courtyard, then thought about what happened to the Queen of the Dark Woods recently. An assassination, apparently who 'shone light like an angel' according to the accounts of the guards and commonfolk. He looked sidelong at the Priestess, wondering if that 'angel of light' belonged to her Lord. "I wish I had your faith, sometimes," he murmured. He spotted that no-longer-a-servant servant girl, and he thought about how people disparaged the Priestess for her actions at the Quiver of Houses regarding the girl. "Possessing lack of regret in one's choices, it would be refreshing."

“If they were my choices, perhaps I would regret them, Your Grace.” She had heard of the person that had attacked the dark woods queen. Heard the rumors. This was no act of her lord, however. Though no one had asked her opinion. “And why can’t you?” She looked at the prince. “Have faith, that is?”

"The sea is her own faith, Priestess. She's the only goddess I know how to worship. And she is unforgiving and fickle. I suppose I have a type," Iann said with a slight smile. A funeral might not be the best place to say bawdy things; but on the other hand a funeral was the perfect time. Seeing one's mortality in the stark reality, in the body within the coffin within that strange hollowed-out tree.

Maya stopped next to Lord Pettaline. She curtsied out of habit, "Good evening sir. If it can be called that." As far as she knew he had made himself rather scarce in the last few days.

"That she is. Though I hear her beauty is unmatched. Strange what men will do for such a creature that possesses both.” Wars had been fought for less, she knew. “Yet among all of us, all our gods and all our respective faiths... the god of death is the only one that comes right when you call on him.”

Ephram inclined his head to acknowledge the Lost Lady, mildly surprised that she'd approached him. "A good evening for at least some faction," he said, with a slight squint. "Unless the current rumour is that the killer acted alone. Seems unlikely to me."

"I always believed Death was a goddess," Iann countered, but gently and conversationally. He looked over to the Queen of the Dark Woods and nodded at Bellamy. "And the Death Goddess looks a little like her Highness over there."

Bella felt her wolf's gaze remain on the Prince and her own shifted to catch his nod. His hearing was better than her own but it was not safe for them to speak with one another here. The King, always in his wolf form, had intended to remain in the Dead Woods to keep it protected but when she had summoned forces he had grown nervous and hid among their numbers. To announce who he was would allow people to be aware the Dead Woods were relatively unguarded and they did not know who would be able to understand his words beyond her. Gently nudging the horse she moved over to the Priestess of Light, maybe others suspected her of what happened but Bella knew better at smiled at the two of them. "Thank you for your physicians yesterday, your Royal Highness," Bella offered, the wolf nudging Iann's palm as though to shake it.

Maya shook her head, "I think you're right. It's too complex to have acted alone." She looked around the crowd again, analyzing the expressions around them. "As for a good evening for some faction, I'm not sure I can agree with you there. I don't foresee peace even if the culprit is caught," she said. Of course, she never foresaw peace, at least not for long. Even if someone was appointed High Raj and smoothly assumed the position before long someone else would to take it.

The Red Priestess looked at the dark woods queen. She certainly could see how one might think of the women as something to be feared. And perhaps they should. “Perhaps Death /is/ a goddess. Or perhaps Death merely comes as what we perceive it to be. A thing of our own creation. Perhaps the sea is /your/ death, Your Grace. One day.” The Red Priestess dipped her head as the queen acknowledged her. “Your Grace.”

Iann drew in a long breath, a surge of pleasure washing over him like a wave. Not just at the way the Red Priestess turned his words so deftly and brought it back to the sea, but also at the idea of an honourable death at sea. "One can hope," he agreed, and he almost sounded warm, reverent. The Queen's horse came closer, and Iann was about to reply when he was genuinely startled by the feel of the grey wolf's nudge. He took a step back, staring at it as if to remind himself that it...was no mere wild beast. "How are you healing, your Highness? I'm appalled that assassin got so close to you to do such severe damage to your legs." Of course he didn't know the details of what happened, only that it happened.

Ephram angled his shoulder back, enough so he could regard Maya properly as they spoke. "I didn't think you'd have so definite an opinion about the politics of the thing," he said, a little coolly. "Aren't you dead set on remaining nothing more than a servant? Advisor to Lord Savin, is it?" With the close quarters and high tension of the past few days, the gentry hadn't had much else to do other than watch their backs, talk about their speculations, and share news of fresh developments. Ephram hadn't met Maya until now, but after the public display of her birthright, he along with everybody else knew who she was.

Maya shrugged, "Even servants have opinions, particularly when recent events might trigger another war." Most royalty she'd known never had any idea how much servants truly knew and heard. They rarely thought of them. Although so far the nobles around these parts paid a bit more attention. Or perhaps that was only due to the events of the last few days. "What of you Lord Pettaline? Do you see peace in our future?" she asked.

Bella looked over the Priestess, aware her King could not be so kind to her. Even if she didn't intend it her religion was the opposite and drawing near could drop his appearance when he was not capable of being shown now. "Fine Lady," Bella said, unsure how to address the Priestess. "The assassin did this," Bella lifted her jaw, showing the jarring and deep burn that cut across her neck. "I harmed my legs to summon my darkness, and my wolves came," she reasoned, aware the prince might find that idiotic. "I'm not a fighter, if no one came to my aid I'd have lost my head. I did not intend the destruction that came. I've heard from some of the staff that things are even worse now."

Ephram wasn't so easily shunted from his point once he got going, though. "Of course servants have opinions, and welcome to them," he said. "Everyone can and should think what they will." His blue eyes bored into her. "Not everyone has the opportunity -- the duty and responsibility -- to act on those opinions in a way that affects matters. And people. And the running of the Bluesprings, keeping us aimed towards peace in our future."

Maya turned more properly to face Lord Pettaline. She weighed his words, sensing perhaps there was something behind. She'd heard words like duty and responsibility before. Her parents used to talk of them often. "I want peace as much as anyone else here, but I am not so naive to not see war on the horizon," she replied, "But if you have something you'd like to say, sir, you may as well say it outright. There are enough secrets in this castle already."

Iann blinked, and looked back over at the coffin. "I've heard things are getting even worse, yes. But I've also heard that things are getting better." Depending on how one looked at it, of course. And Iann had a knack for turning bad into opportunity. And as a Prince, he sought opportunity for the good of many, not just himself. "Fear can engender belief, and an urge to hope towards something better. Perhaps this assassin of yours did us all a favour, your Highness." He motioned towards the gathering. "Shall we be proceeding soon? I believe the people are eager to see their lost High Raj for the last time, and to mourn him."

The Red Priestess smiled softly at the prince before turning to the darkwoods queen. She frowned slightly at the mark on the woman’s neck, and that she had had to harm herself in order to save her own life. Though she knew some things required blood and pain. “I’m glad to see that the coward did not succeed.” Though she did glance at the large wolf pressing into the princes palm.

"Don't call me sir. It's demeaning to both of us." Ephram's voice was flat, mirroring the look he fixed Maya with. "You're highborn, no matter how much you want to lay claim to being the voice of the smallfolk. It's shameful. The way you derelict your duty as the ruler to your people, it's cowardice. When you know very well that they'd welcome you back as their own, their Lost Lady." He jerked his chin in the direction of the High Raj's bizarre coffin. "In the presence of a man slain for taking up a responsibility that would have saved us all, your refusal to shoulder your birthright is unconscionable." Ephram's words had nothing to do with Maya personally, seeing as he didn't know her; but as a born noble himself, one who was scrabbling tooth and nail to hang on to enough power to do his best by his people, Maya's continued chosen servitude seemed base and self-serving.

Did not really want to leave the castle's protection, even if she suspected that nothing would happen it was the feeling that it could happen that made her wish to remain inside, evident on her face as she swallowed. "I suppose we must," she reasoned, looking over to the High Raj's form placed atop the carriage. He wore the finest of clothes, perhaps more grand than was appropriate for such an event but people outside the Dead Woods seemed to really enjoy the restrictions to their body so he had many. "I know, Priestess," Bella said, offering her own hand to the woman because her wolf could not. "What we worship are not lords that envision enemies in one another, we're two sides of a good, two times of day, perhaps we'll wander until morning and your Lord can join us," Bella smiled to her with assurances.

Maya's surprise at his command not to call him sir showed only briefly in her expression. It returned quickly to its stoicism though as he continued. "I would never claim to speak for all common folk," she said first. Chin still raised and expression calm, she took a moment to compose her next words. "If I am a coward then I am not fit to serve my people. What they want, what they've spun me into in legend is not who I am. I have never been cut out for power or the games required to maintain it. The best I can serve my people is to stay as far away from them as possible," she said, "Returning now would only result in bloodshed. I would not put them in danger again for my own pride."

“Perhaps we shall, Your Grace.” The priestess gave the deadwood queens hand a small squeeze. “One cannot exist without the other, as you say.”

The hard set of Ephram's mouth eased some as he listened to Maya's response. "Bloodshed, why?" he asked. "What danger do they face that wouldn't be helped by the return of the Lady who they thought taken from them?"

"You've done well arranging the details of this Royal procession, despite the stress you've had to deal with," Iann said, noticing the way the Queen looked over at the carriage. "It will generate the proper awe and reverence befitting our fallen ruler. Shall we, Queen Bellamy of the Dark Woods?"

"My homeland is not without a ruler in my absence," Maya replied, "A ruler who has already shown a willingness to murder for his own gain. And not everyone wants the Lost Lady back after all these years. I am better as a hopeful story than I ever would be as a ruler."

Faye wasn’t sure how she felt being among so many mourners. She didn’t know the Raj, yet his death was tragic enough that it bothered her greatly. Whoever had murdered him had done it purposely. In front of nearly everyone with even a modicum in the surrounding lands. The atmosphere was subdued, yet there was a tremor of something else underneath. Something Faye didn’t like. Not one bit.

Bella nodded her head firmly, swallowing as the carriage sat at the front of the closed gate, others lining up behind it and Bella nudging her horse to do the same. "I don't really understand how he looks so...put together," she spoke to the Prince as she moved, unsure if he knew. "I heard there was so much blood but when I was adorning him with herbs and ointments in preparation he looked perfect." He looked perfect now really, crown on his head, skin only slightly darker than he once was. Finally in line Bella rose her hand high and the guards opened the gate to begin their walk through the city and outward.

Ephram leaned back slightly, his lips parting in an expression of perplexed distaste. "You know that your people are ruled by a ruthless murderer, and you're content to leave them to his mercies instead of chancing being unwelcome by some? Gods above and below." He shook his head, directing his attention back to the funeral proceedings. "It seems to me, Lady Maya, that your story isn't one of hope at all, not to anybody involved. Not your people living in subjugation to a tyrant, and not to you, finding excuses to avoid returning home and attempting to be the sort of ruler who doesn't need to rely on murder and games."

Fane was late to arrive to the gathering, having had need to change and return to his typical appearance as those around the city knew him. He slipped through the crowds quietly so as not to draw attention to himself eyes relatively downcast. Solemn and lost inside his own head. He didn't have time to be here with everything presently afoot, but making an appearance was necessary nonetheless.

"I'm not sure, myself," Iann replied, walking alongside Bellamy's horse. "We on the Isles intern our dead to the sea." The Forty Isles, naturally did things differently when it came to their funerary procedures. No burying, no burning; only sinking. Sometimes it was as if the Forty Isles did things differently on purpose, just to show that they could do whatever they wanted. But Iann didn't like looking at the dead High Raj. Iann could stand drowned bodies, dead bodies, even those who die peacefully in their sleep. A body dressed so prettily was disconcerting, but not unfamiliar to Iann. "But he will be a sight to behold for the commonfolk; and this is more for them than it is for us."

Maya shook her head. The man sitting on her father's throne would not give up his power easily nor would anyone who had benefitted from from his rule. There would be a civil war. Of that much she was absolutely certain. "No one in my home land would let go of their power without a war," she replied, "Think me a coward all you like Lord Pettaline. The legend isn't about me anyway, it never was. I would not ruin it by returning." She curtsied again, "If you'll excuse me Lord Pettaline, I believe the procession is leaving without us."

"We let nature do what it does, we hold something but generally it has no body," Bella reasoned, supposing neither of them would know if he really did look strange then and allowed the peculiarities of his lack of injuries to move on. The High Inquisitor, she decided to trust, had done his job but the only people she actually felt anything akin to trust to were for the Prince and the Priestess, the Priestess had nothing to gain and if the Prince was the cause of the crime he seemed like he'd do a fine job running the Kingdom, everything he'd done to her so far had been very helpful. "I'm not sure if anything will calm them. Cruel things," she scowled, still hurt by the fact no one had even attempted to aid her.

Iann disagreed with her assessment of the commonfolk, but then he didn't see himself at their mercy nor was he interested in what they could do for him personally. They weren't cruel, nor were they kind. They were just people. And people could be manipulated and guided, like a school of fish. And from his privileged vantage point, he knew they moved en masse depending on the currents, the food, and the predators around them. Safety in numbers, stragglers and outliers beware. And their safety all depended on what Iann, the Heir Apparent of the Forty Isles, chose to provide them: currents, food, or predators. So he gently pat her horse's neck. "They are calmed for now," he said, as the sombre music started, and the gates finally opened. People were everywhere, crowded close; yet to Iann there was a sense of freedom. The Gates of the Keep were finally open and the Inquisition was finally giving the people something under their control. The power and effect of the grand, solemn sight of their dead High Raj was palpable. People gasped, murmured prayers, burned their papers, bowed, cried....it was magnificent.

Fane lifted his head as the music indicated the beginning of the procession, the pace was slow considering the weight of the casket being pulled and number of people following behind it. He found himself looking to the people as he passed them by. He owed them his service and his duty. The reminder was humbling, and Fane let his head dip once more. He heard Iann's words, and while he didn't respond outright found himself wondering calmed, perhaps, but for how long?

The gates opened and even though Faye was near the back of the procession, and knew that no one would like spare her a glance with the Raj and deadwood queen far ahead of her, she still felt a wave of fear. The masses pressed in on all sides, and Faye slowly pulled up the hood of her cloak, eyes cast downwards as she followed.

Bella frowned at the Prince, she still considered him the most logical heir to the throne but only because she felt ruling a Kingdom like this was not the same as ruling her forest. She had people who admired her, who supported her, who she supported in turn. No commonfolk here knew anything of royals so why would they help them. Her horse moving forward she decided she would ask the only person she knew would answer about the body, greying wolf following her horse as she did. "Inquisitor," Bella called to gain his attention upon her horse. She looked ridiculous, and felt it, with everyone else walking, but her legs were too damaged to walk. "May I ask you something?"

Fane was a world away. So many things brewing in his head, plots and conspiracies and what felt like a thousand and one expectations. One wrong word could be the difference between peace and all out warfare. Yet who could he trust to speak with on the matters weighing on his mind? When everyone was still a suspect despite his rapidly narrowing list. So he was a touch startled to hear himself being called, lifting his head he noted the Queen of the Deadwoods and he inclined his head in polite deference to her rank. "Your majesty," he moved a little to the side so that her horse might have a little more room to walk unimpeded. "You may," he was unsure what she might have to ask of him but he would answer to the best of his ability.

"I haven't seen a funeral since I was a girl," Bella offered as reason for her question, wondering what the Inquisitor assumed of her, especially after being attacked. She knew rumours were it was the Prietess' people, stupid rumours really, none assumed her family because of their high standing - at least not commonfolk, perhaps Royals who had interacted with them knew better. Aware of there puritanical reign alongside their own church Bella had been cast out from because of her sinful perversions. "How was the High Raj able to be returned to such a pleasant state. I heard there was a great deal of blood."

Fane had trained in the Guard, and had fought many battles against darkness and creatures that tainted everything they touched. Infected and infested, he had seen and survived evil and the young Queen who rode nearby was nothing like the evil he'd faced to the fringes of his lands. He was equally aware of the rumours, but as had been proven recently, they weren't always quite what they were cracked up to be. The question caused him to look ahead to the body, thoughtful in his consideration of the question he didn't know the full process but he knew aspects, "no one knows the entire ritual but I know you wouldn't wish to leave blood in a body regardless. They use a particular resin from what I'm led to believe it prevents the body from... hm... decomposing." He answered quietly, enough to be heard but not enough to disrupt the procession.

Bella frowned a little, "but shouldn't you still see his injuries?" she asked, not aware of anything beyond 'poison' being involved. So much blood and for it to be poison was strange but Bella was not aware of anything else. The procession moved slower as it seemed a collective on horses was trying to move about, causing people to step in the way of the High Raj's funeral. It merely slowed pace though, nothing was going to stop this. "I just don't understand how he looks so fine," she shrugged, becoming acutely aware this was only suspicious to her.

Fane looked aside to the Queen, "the injuries were only around his head nowhere else..." He didn't particularly think the funeral procession was the time to go into the full details of the excess blood being that from the cranial cavity and brain being punctured by the spikes when they emerged from the pressure-activated device built into the crown. Fane also didn't particularly wish to draw too much attention to the crown at present, considering the information he'd learned earlier today concerning it. "What isn't masqueraded by his hair was likely filled by wax to take the appearance of skin... But... When it happened his face was hm... sheeted with it. A relatively even distribution all the way around... Which would give the impression of there being more than there was." Plus, in the time he'd been collapsed on the throne there was enough time for it to pool out of the countless puncture wounds.

Bella became aware she was only irritating the High Inquisitor as he answered her question in line with practices rather than what she had meant. "I suppose I imagined so much blood would have affected him more," she said, dropping the topic, looking ahead of them to see if the fuss being caused would end soon and yet it only seemed to grow worse, not necessarily from the men but from the commonfolk. They were growing rowdier the further they got from the City's core. "You would know what was strange and what wasn't, I'm sure," Bella conceded, trying to remain calm as the flustering crowd made her nervous.

Octavia made her way through the bustling crowd. She needed to find her Queen- especially with everything that's happened the last few days. It took her only twenty minuted to find her, but Bellamy seemed nervous; even if it didn't show on her face. "My Queen, I am sorry it took so long for me to find you." She said giving Bellamy a quick bow.

Faye still walked with her head bowed and covered. The growing ruckus ahead wasn’t lost on her, and she wished she were back in the walls of the keep. But she kept moving ahead, hoping the guards and the somberness of the day would prevent any more bloodshed.

Bella Immediately the wolf at Bella's feet snapped aggressively at Octavia, not biting her but the strange stoic calm that the wolf had since it had entered the castle the previous night was gone. It seemed to even enrage some of the commoners, who unbeknownst to Bella had decided the wolves were somehow protectors. "It's fine, Octavia," Bellamy spoke calmly. She was not upset, she had left the castle knowing Octavia was asleep and had not woken her, by no means was it the Knights fault but if she showed too much kindness her husband would show more ferocity. "Stride the horse with me, things are getting frightful," she requested.

Fane was hardly irritated by the questioning, he had simply answered it to the best of his understanding of the question that she had asked. "I'm not sure I quite understand, you mean to ask why he looks as peaceful as he does despite losing that amount of blood? If that was your question... Then they tend to paint the skin some, so it appears more natural." But equally, he was distracted by the group of men ahead that seemed to be intruding on the procession. Fane glanced at a few of the crowds as they passed, dropping back to fall in along the outer side with a few of his men trailing his movements. A small act to create a barrier at least between them and the Queen.

Octavia: didn't flinch at the wolfs bark, she knew her mistress wouldn't allow her to be harmed. "Yes, M'lady." She said looking into the eyes of the wolf, willing them to understand that she is there only to protect. She took the reigns of the horse and climbed up, allowing to see the entire crowd from her place above. She had opted to wear her full armor that day, just in case anything were to happen.

Bella It was innocent of Octavia to imagine that Bella would protect her from the King, a kind thought but not true. He was her King and Octavia didn't even consider herself a member of the Dead Woods, if her husband wanted to harm her there was little she could do. Others? Yes, she would intervene but not her people. "Perhaps I just don't understand death as it is here, I was attempting, ungracefully apparently, to say, without saying in front of commoners, that he does not look himself at all, is that even him?" she asked more directly.

The commoners surged slightly towards the procession, crowding some of those walking. Faye stumbled slightly, catching herself on the side of the horse walking in front of her. The animal barey flinched, used to the commotion. But Faye was startled, and tried to push through the procession to get ahead to where someone she knew was walking.

Fane was visibly puzzled by the question at hand. Perhaps death worked differently in the Queen's realm he couldn't very rightly say. "Aye, that's the man... Doubt they'd put the wrong body for all to see." He turned a little to see Faye stumbling along looking more than a little bit shaken, "Lady Lacroy? Come, walk over here." There was a little more space around the horse at least, enough that you weren't being completely buffeted by people.

"I did not know the High Raj very well, I think I had only seen him a couple of times in person; but he does not look like the pictures they painted of him, at least." She said in thought. Octavia kept the pace of the horse with the procession, making sure to keep an eye on the rowdy crowd. Octavia nodded at Lord Savin, agreeing with his statement.

Seeing Lord Savin walking next to the Queen of Deadwood and her knight, Faye came over as quickly as decorum and nerves would allow. “Thank you...” she muttered, glancing at the Inquisitor and then the two on the horse. “I fear I might be crushed.”’

Octavia nodded at Faye, greeting her. "Lady Lacroy, I recon you'll be much safer over here." She said with a polite smile

Bella shrugged, they had made it very clear that they knew more than what Bellamy did when it came to this and that was fine, investigations would be left to the Savin man who had become focused on a woman Bella had seen once or twice but barely spoken with. "We can't stop the procession," she insisted of the funeral. Prince Iann had insisted this was what the town needed but the further out they pushed the more thngs became strange. Nature had begun to take over the area she had been attacked the previous day and fires were burning. The more they moved the louder their chanting became. "WE NEED A NEW HIGH RAJ!"

Octavia placed her hand on her sword, keeping it at the ready in case she would need to use it. "I am not sure they care much about the procession anymore, Lady Bellamy." She studied the crowds angry faces and watched as they pushed against the knights protecting the procession.

As they moved, Bella's eyes darted to the man who had cause the funeral slowed down. The darkness that surrounded Ryden called to her, immediately aware of what he was, finding it strange he was in human form. All the wolves she knew remained in their wolf form, perhaps the man even noticing the one wandering at her side, much older than himself. "We need to complete this," she insisted to her knight. They weren't hurting anyone, they were upset, they wanted a ruler, someone to make things calm again. "I can't summon my wolves, Inquisitor Savin," she noted, sure they would upset people. "Perhaps we should have the guards move people back as best they can without violence?"

Faye did her best to stay out of the way. She merely wanted not to get lost in the crowd of people if they surged to join the procession. But they were chanting now. So loudly that Faye could barely hear what anyone else was saying. She felt her heart beating wildly in her chest, and it took eveuosje had to put one foot after another and continue to follow the Raj’s body.

Fane was a tad concerned by the chant going up from the crowd, it didn't bode well. His features tightened a little and he glanced back at the others in their small band. "Stay together," with this said he stepped out a little to the side moving to walk with the guards patrolling the perimeter of the procession. Moving to one of his commanders he instructed quickly, "lock formation and draw out on my command, give us some space but do so slowly, we don't wish to start a riot." He moved his way through to several different men in the group instructing the same and once he was sure they all understood. With their eyes in his direction he gave the signal, and they took up the call to their men who drew a tighter formation locking their shields to form an effective barrier and slowly create some more space in the street so the procession may continue.

Bella felt a tremendous level of relief as Fane gave out direct commands that she would have no idea how to give. Usually she was working with a different assortment of soldiers. Not this kind. "Thank you, Inquisitor," Bella said with relief. The crowds were still there but there was some distance between them now. "Did any of you notice that many with his horse?" she asked, "Has he been here since the coronation?" To have so many men with horses he could not have been a commoner, not even Bella had horses, the one beneath her loaned.

Fane returned back to the side of the Queen and the entourage with whom he was a little more familiar. The Queen's question had him looking back over his shoulder but by now the man's back was turned and Fane couldn't rightly make out any visible house sigil. "I don't think so, but then again there are countless people in the castle..." it wouldn't have been hard to overlook one. That being said he turned his attention back ahead, "I don't think it's much farther to go," he said equally thankful for the fact they wouldn't have to be out in the crowds for very much longer, they had a little more room to breathe now. Regardless he kept a vigilant eye on the crowds.

"What shall we do to return however?" Bellamy asked, realising she had rather back them into an awkward spot trying to get her sole job for the day done. "I did not think this through," she let out a heavy breath, eyes turning to the man. he had done well enough to make them through, turning seemed dangerous. The commoners would not harm the Raj, the guards doing there duty. "Do you know a way back to the castle that might not be so awful?" she asked him.

Fane considered the question at hand, going back the way they had come would be the easiest answer. The roads were open and afforded them the ability to maintain guard. "With the amount of people filling the streets and what occurred yesterday... I'm not sure it would be wise to chance short-cuts," Fane cautioned warily, "there are some routes but with you astride it would be difficult to navigate. Let us see the Raj's body delivered for his rites of passage. Without the body we should be able to make a quicker journey back than we did on our way down."

"Without the body I worry they won't be so kind," Bella admitted. The body was already being set off for it's final passage, the collective of people in the march beginning to turn. "I would not usually ask this but will you please join me?" Bella asked, meaning upon the back of her horse. The fire about the place and the hordes of commonfolk who yesterday had ignored her attack was making her fearful and if they had to turn back Bella did not want to feel as helpless as she had.

Fane looked up at the queen as she made her request, it didn't seem proper considering her rank but he would never outright decline the request equally not wishing to leave Faye behind. So, Fane did what he tended to do rather well in times like this and thought on his feet, glancing back over his shoulder to where a couple of the horses that had been pulling the Raj's casket were now being walked back an idea coming to him. "One moment your highness," Fane backtracked to secure the reins of one of the now spare horses before mounting the horse, he was rather lightly armoured by comparison to his typical dress so it wasn't as hard as it might otherwise have been. Trotting back he fell in on the outside of Bella's horse slowing he held a hand down for Lady Lacroy to help her up. The guards pulled in tighter, a more secure formation around them. He glanced over at Bella to ensure she was well enough "a slight faster pace then? If that suits?"

Faye wasn't sure what was about to happen. But the smoke and the growing chaos was not helping the situation. People were growing bolder as they walked, throwing things from afar that hit the shields of the guards that had spread out to ease the passage of things. When the Deadwood Queen called for Lord Savin to join her on her horse to help navigate the crowd, Faye felt a flare of her own fear. But it wasn't but a moment or two before it seemed the Inquisitor had another plan in mind that would hopefully alleviate the Queen's own fear and get them to all to safety faster. As Fane held out his arm for her, Faye hesitated only a moment before clasping his forearm with her own and letting the horse's own momentum swing her up behind Fane. Her arm wrapped his waist and she slid forward securely so she wouldn't be jostled.

The Red Priestess had folded into the procession with the others, walking without fear or judgement. The people were hurt and angry and fearful. Of course they would feel the need to show their frustrations to the lords and ladies meant to protect them. The unease bothered her not. And when the Raj's body had been delivered and the last rites begun, the priestess said her own silent prayer to the Lord of Light, and stood until it was proper to leave.

Fane's action were far more appropriate and gave Bella the same comfort that she was needed, even more relieved when Lady Lacroy joined. The more of them the less daunting it all felt. "Thank you both," Bella said to them, looking to the Priestess as she made her prayer. They could made it back now, she was sure of it, picking up pace on her horse.

Fane helped Faye up, it didn't take too much for her to be settled behind him nor did it impede them much. The Inquisitor didn't feel much need to be thanked for only doing the action that seemed both most appropriate and correct in the given situation. He was sworn by a binding oath - unrelenting and unending as the day it was first crafted and while he no longer served among the ranks as a footsoldier. He was bound to it regardless. Still, he dipped his head a fraction in acknowledgement to the Queen's thanks, "welcome majesty," with that said the group and guard set off at a faster pace. The crowds parted at the sight of the nobles and their escort as they made the return journey to the castle occasionally he would glance over at the Queen keenly aware that she was still injured and not wishing anything to happen to her. As the castle rose into sight he exhaled, "almost there m'ladies," he said addressing both women in his company.

Entering the castles courtyard the gates were quickly closed behind all those entering, Bella's wolf running beside her horse. Relief washed over her, a strange feeling since buildings had rarely given her that sort of feeling before. "What are we to do?" Bella asked them as a guard helped her off the horse and into some crutches. "They are calling for a King, the houses need to be called," she decided, looking to see if they agreed.

A guard approached Lord Savin as soon as the gates had shut behind the quartet. "Pardon me, milord, but Maya asked for your presence straight away in the Great Hall. There are men here to see you."

Fane circled his horse the gates shutting but not silencing the calls from outside, drawing his mount to a halt he remained seated for a moment. "Before a Raj is chosen I have need of speaking with the Prelate... There are still too many loose tethers..." And Fane worried that in not having them all gathered would prove to a far worse outcome than not. He was just dismounting when the guard approached, and Fane looked at him with a weary gaze. "I'm sorry, you'll have to inform her I'm indisposed with business concerning the welfare of the Capital..." Even with the gates shut the chants echoed.

"Perhaps Lady Lacroy and I can help them?" Bellamy suggested, looking to Faye. They had standing, maybe they could be of help to the woman. Bella not aware yet that the once servant girl was now more than that.

Faye looked at Fane as the Queen suggested that the two of them assist the men calling for him. Faye didn't know how much help she would but, but if the Inquisitor asked if of her, she would do her best.

Fane gave a slight nod to them both hoping whoever needed to speak with him wouldn't mind a delay. Unfortunately, there were matters more important that a wayward individual wishing to speak with him.

-----

Ryden had not seen this many people congregating in... well, never. Dyrerow was a small piece of land, with first neighbors far apart by acres of frozen earth. Whenever the lording house he was now the heir of held any gathering, people came only if the weather didn't stop them. Which meant that the halls of Balcaster castle were half-empty at best, at any given time. He'd thought that more than twenty in the same dining hall were a throng and it came as a surprise that the world had THIS many people in it. Everyone and their grandmother had come. And apparently, all of them had ten grandmothers each and they brought them all.

Very few of his men had followed Ryden on this journey - only the bravest and most daring. One man he had lost on the way, but that was considered lucky. Strong and enduring as the people of the far North were, the journey had been perilous and the road did not spare them. Yet here he was nevertheless, trying his hardest not to gape at all the wonders of the capitol. And also trying not to melt. The fur cloaks they wore were now a hindrance, if not at least a peculiarity in their obvious unkempt state that added to these newcomers' savage appearance. They guided their horses down the maze of cobbled streets, breaking out and right into what seemed like an even larger clusterfuck of people, moving in some sort of endless procession, like a caterpillar of humans just wiggling through forever. Ryden reigned his horse, who'd be more spooked if it wasn't practically dying of heat, and signaled his men to come to a halt. By their faces, he noticed they had even less of a clue on what was going on...

Maya followed the procession in silence after leaving Lord Pettaline. She listened mostly to the whispers and murmurs among the gathered crowds. Her attention was drawn therefore to a sudden group of newcomers in heavy coats. There weren't many of them, but they did look weatherworn and a bit dogged. They were from the North, no doubt. She made her way easily through the crowd to stand in front of the leader's horse. "Pardon, sir," she said, "I'm going to have to ask you to dismount."

A voice drew Ryden's attention, speaking in the common tongue Ryden was very familiar with but chose not to use this time. Accent heavy, the peculiar dialect of the far North could be very difficult to decipher, unless spoken slowly. "Eh? What's it sound to me is yer askin' ta be trampled o'er. I wound nae recommend it. It 'urts a lot." His men behind him had given a little chuckle to that - their lord, although unfitting, his ways questionable, was most definitely of the entertaining, funny sort sometimes.

Maya was lucky enough, if one could call it that, in her travels that she could make out the man's words through his accent. Although not without some difficulty. She raised an eyebrow when she did work it out. There were a lot of witnesses about to actually injure her, so she didn't feel any of the fear that she might've. "I've had worse," she replied, "And I think, this many witnesses, you'd find yourself clapped in iron, which wouldn't be comfortable either." After a brief pause, she added a very subtly sarcastic, "Sir."

"Pfff, I ain't no sir." Seeing that she'd understood him perfectly, which was quite a surprise if he were honest, though not enough to take him aback, he dropped the dialect of his homeland to something easier to follow. "And by sayin' that, obviously ya ain't no lady either, so since we're kinna equal on that I don't see why I shoulda listen to ya." His face darkened then, casual tone evening into a deep, emotionless baritone. "Git, I have no interest in you." He turned the horse around, guiding it past the procession, to the High Raj's castle. After all, this was what he was here for. Not to walk in line with a bunch of rude folks who liked their strolls more than manners.

Maya It was not the first time today that someone had told her not to call them sir or claimed that she was their equal. It didn't feel quite as strange this time though, seeing as the newcomer clearly thought she was just a servant. It didn't escape her notice either that he'd dropped his accent, for the most part. Interesting. She huffed a laugh though when he told her to 'git.' He then turned his horse around. "If you're looking for the High Raj you're going the wrong way," she called after him, "I would've told you if you'd dismounted, but you just nearly walked your horse into his funeral procession."

That had given the northman pause. Turning his horse back around, he returned to the woman and dismounted. "What did ya say? He's dead? What sort of a lord dies so soon after becoming one? Ya'll picked a sick lord to rule the world?" He was visibly puzzled.

That seemed to get the newcomer's attention. He turned the horse back around, walked it over and finally dismounted. "No, he was..." Maya glanced behind herself to see if any of the commonfolk had followed her down the alley, "Perhaps we should find somewhere to speak privately. You've missed a great deal," she was about to call him sir again, but decided against it, "I'm sorry. I don't actually know who you are, other than that you're from the North." She paused, her brow furrowed in thought. There was only one House from the North that no one had seen in years. It seemed a silly guess, but she made it anyway. "Unless, has House Balcaster finally decided to open its doors to the outside world again?" she asked.

Ryden frowned at the woman, confused by her request. Speak privately? She was either a whore then or a thief, looking to take the opportunity to drag him to a dark alley to earn a bit of coin. He had been warned of the likes in the capitol, where there were many dead ends to corner a person in and rob them of their belongings. He was about to turn away again, engage any of the commonfolk to give him the same piece of information with a lot less fuss, but then she'd actually recognized who they were. "Are ye of the North as well?" He answered her question with one of his own, because it added up. She'd understood him earlier and now recognized his banner.

Maya certainly wasn't thinking of robbing or sleeping with him. Her concern was maintaining the secrets she'd been sworn to in the castle. "I'm a s..." she paused. She was no longer merely a kitchen girl in Lord Savin's house. She wasn't entirely sure if she would still be in his employ when all this was over, but for the moment she was a bit more than a mere servant. "I'm an advisor to Lord Savin of Blackspire," she said.

Finally something that rang a bloody bell in this gloomy silence. "Take me to yer lord, then." He asked, eager to speak to another northerner, a person he was more likely to trust in this strange, new world.

Maya turned over her shoulder to see Lord Savin passing with Bellamy, the knight Octavia and Lady Lacroy in the middle of the funeral procession. "I'm afraid that's him, quite in the middle of something," she replied, "We can make our way to the castle and I can explain everything there. Away from prying ears. Once he's returned to the castle I'll be happy to get you an audience with him." She wasn't entirely sure Lord Savin would be able to make time consider all that was happening. Of course the appearance of House Balcaster after all these years was no small matter.

"Nay, now." Was what he'd simply declared, leaving his horse with his men and walking in the direction of the man this woman had pointed out.

Well, there went any sense of discretion. Maya could hear people start to chant. Hoping to at least lessen what she was sure would be the ensuing chaos, she grabbed the man by the arm, "The High Raj was murdered sir. And I really don't think it wise for you to walk into the funeral now to learn about it from the man serving as High Inquisitor."

She'd grabbed his gloved had, effectively catching him by surprise and stopping him for long enough to listen to her words. Frown never leaving his expression, he glanced back over to the man she'd pointed out before he lost him to the crowd, noticing who he walked with. It made a shiver run down his spine despite the sweat under his winter clothing. The crowd around them was getting rowdy, their chanting intimidating when done in such numbers.

The High Raj was murdered... No wonder unrest was brewing. Irked, he spat on the ground, backing off. The moment passed anyway - the man was gone down the procession. "City folk and yer titles. Whatever they're good fer." He shook her hand off, returning back to his men. "I will slit yer throat should ya mislead me." He warned in a low, blood-chilling whisper and left her to mount his horse so they may go where she would be more willing to talk.

Maya breathed a sigh of relief when the man didn't insist on marching out into the middle of the procession. "It's a force of habit," she admitted taking her hand back, "I was a kitchen girl until about twelve hours ago. In addition to the fact, I don't actually know your name. Unless you'd prefer Lord Balcaster?" She showed and felt no fear at his threat. "Good thing I'm telling the truth then," she said as she mounted his horse with a little help. Once he was on as well, she guided them all the short way to the castle

Gods this woman was talkative... If everyone on these streets talked as much as she did, how did anyone get anywhere on time? "... Ryden." He muttered out, because he hated being called Lord Balcaster the most. "Ryden Bolt." The last name one given to bastards of the region, fatherless sons with no one to claim them. He was still reluctant to change it. Because his father died before he could even think of acknowledging him. He was also pretty sure he didn't even know about him while he was alive. He followed her instructions and got them to where they were supposed to go.

Maya nodded when he gave his name. "Maya," she replied. Soon enough they were within the walls of the castle. She dismounted in the courtyard, knowing that it would be the best place to intercept Lord Savin and introduce Ryden. "The High Raj was murdered in the middle of his coronation. By his own crown no less. Venom from some snake. Lord Savin has been named High Inquisitor and, well, we're still not sure who's responsible. But that he was murdered is a fact that hasn't left the walls of this castle, which is why the secrecy. Hope for peace and all."

He didn't care for her name but he supposed it was better than hey, you. He dismounted after her and left his men at the entrance to the courtyard to wait on him. The information she had to provide had him listening with a quiet focus. If what she'd said was true, it sounded like witchcraft to him. "Who disagreed to his becomin' the High Raj the most?" Not that a name or a house would mean much to Ryden. He'd barely gotten half of them memorized.

Maya considered his question for a moment. It was the very question that they were trying to answer. "Several houses and I'm not sure I'm at liberty to mention them by name," she said, "That'll be a question for Lord Savin when he returns. It shouldn't be long now." She also didn't feel like she had enough information to accuse anyone. It wasn't her place. "Would you all like something to eat while you wait? It's a long journey from Dyrerow."

Ryden crossed his hands, looking away in thought. What did all of this mean, especially for him? What was he supposed to make of this? How to proceed from here on? They've journeyed for so long only to find the High Raj dead and on his way to whatever afterlife his religion had him believe in. Coming out here was supposed to give him more answers, not confuse him further. When she'd offered food and rest, he glanced over his shoulder to see his men shift awkwardly on their feet. They surely needed some rest desperately... Not only was the road from Dyrerow long, but also terribly dangerous. "Fine." He agreed, motioning his men over. "Where are the stables?"

Maya waited for his answer. She stood as she always did, chin up and back perfectly straight. After a moment, he agreed. "Daniel," she said to one of the servants who'd come out, expecting them to be the funeral procession, "Please ensure the men's horses are seen to and if you could ask Annabella to send something up from the kitchen for these men?" Daniel nodded, "Yes miss." She made a face, causing Daniel to laugh before saying, "Yes Maya." She turned again to Ryden, "This is probably the best place to wait if you wish to speak to Lord Savin directly." She hesitated and almost turned away. But stopped herself and gathered the courage to ask, "Why now? Lord...Ryden, why rejoin the Quiver of Houses after all these years? If I may ask."

Ryden glanced at the woman... Maya, that is, raising an eyebrow. Why was a curious question to ask. "Why not and what's it to ya to know?" He waved one of his men over to see that the horses were taken after, the rest following him after the servants and Maya herself, to where they may eat the promised bite.

Maya shrugged, "Only curious." She walked with them to the Great Hall for food, leaving word with one of the door guards to send Lord Savin to them when he arrived.

It was hard to not let his marvel be noticed on his expression as he walked into the Great Hall of the palace, big enough to fit three great halls of Dyrerow. The long table could probably fit an army for a light snack. Must be very hard to warm up such a large open space but then again, Ryden couldn't imagine snow falling here. Right now, he was missing the chill. It was too hot to breathe even inside. Him and his men took the seats at the far end of the table, waiting for the food to be brought to them, all glancing about curiously except for their lord, who did a very good job of acting indifferent.

Maya wasn't exactly sure what to do once they'd entered the Great Hall. Up until yesterday she would've stood politely at the side while they ate. But today was not yesterday. Luckily Annabella arrived shortly after they did with food enough for all of them. Maya thanked her before sitting, although several seats from Ryden and his men. She opened her mouth to say something about the lack of a proper welcome, but shut it again. For one she didn't think he would be much impressed by a proper welcome. For another it wasn't even her sort of master's fault there wasn't one. Instead, she lapsed into silence. At least for a moment she could relax. None of these men could be responsible for the High Raj's death, meaning she didn't need to watch them carefully. For a moment the careful stoic mask slipped off her face revealing her exhaustion.

The moment the food arrived, all four men were just sitting baffled, looking at the plates they were offered. They exchanged looks between each other. Seemed like they hadn't expected... food this unusual. Not that any at the capitol would find it unusual. But when you mostly survived on wild game and hardly anything else, it was odd to see things like strawberries in cream and boiled vegetables. Ryden was overjoyed at the mere smell of beetroot broth and rabbit stew. Those were delicacies. These things were... suspicious. One of his men braved to take some straight off the plates they were served in, bot bothering with eating utensils. After a tentative bite, he nodded his approval and others followed suit. They didn't look hungry. But when they have started eating, it became apparent that they were famished. They ate with no table manners. Even their lord didn't care for a fork, although he seemed less interested in food and more in eating just to have something to do while he waited.

The Red Priestess found a way back the great hall eventually, looking sombre as ever but almost relieved that it was over. Now that the Raj had been laid to rest, the choosing of another could continue. Entering the hall, she saw that she was not the first to return. The Lady Parker and a host of men she did not immediately recognize were already seated. The priestess knew that the girl most likely had not appreciated her lineage being outed, but it had not been up to her. Perhaps with time Lady Parker would come to see that hiding what you were only caused more sorrow and grief in the end. As she came closer, the priestess' expression became more curious. The men were northerners, that much was certain from their dress. There weren't many Lords that lived in the ice and snow, and Lord Savin was already here. "What brings the Lord of the Frozen Wild this far south after so long?"

Maya didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at the men's lack of table manners. She was long since used to eating with servants who usually couldn't be bothered with manners by the time they got to eating. For her part she did use a fork. Still it was nice to be silent and unconcerned about how she appeared for at least a little while. After a sip of wine she breathed a sigh of relief and sagged her shoulders. The moment the doors swung open though her entire demeanor went rigid again. She stood, but was surprised by the Red Priestess instead of Lord Savin. A quiet fire lit behind her eyes. "I take it you know Lord...Ryden of House Balcaster already. Naming people does seem to be your area of expertise," she said.

Ryden and his men looked up at the approaching figure, too oddly dressed to be a noblewoman, with a grace of someone mysterious and holy. He was introduced before he could do so himself. Leaving their food for a moment, they regarded the priestess in quiet, neither's gaze less suspicious than the other. "Yeah, there's this prophecy, yanno, when the Lord of the Frozen Wild comes, skies will rain shit. I'm here to see the spectacle." The bastard lord spoke, no small amount of sarcasm in his tone. It was odd, everyone here was a curious midwife, wanting to know all the gossip.

"I give no one a name they do not already possess, child." The priestess gave Maya a soft smile, though her eyes searched the younger woman's face, not missing the flicker of something in her eyes. "And yes. I know of House Balcaster." She gave the Lord Ryden a bow, the side of her mouth rising in an amused smirk. "I shall remain indoors then, m'lord."

Whatever the case Bella followed the door guard to the Great Hall, wolf at her side, when she entered she saw Maya, the Priestess and the werewolf in his human skin at the table. The woman's eyes moved over him, up and down she tried to recognise him but could not. There were few ways to become a wolf, entering the Dead Woods one, but if that were the case she'd have known him. "Inquisitor Savin needs to speak with the Prelate, I came instead," Bella announced.

"Possessing a name and wishing others to call it are not the same thing," Maya replied in a tense tone. She glanced back at Ryden when he mentioned a prophecy. She didn't think he was entirely serious about the contents of it. But there were enough legends and stories around his lands that she didn't doubt the existence of a prophecy. Before she could comment on it though Bellamy walked through the doors as well. "This is Queen Bellamy of the Dead Woods," she made introductions as she would've if she were a servant still, "Ryden from the North."

Ryden grunted out inarticulately, going back to his plate for now. From a corner of his eye, he was glancing at the woman in red. He'd heard stories of women like that. Witchcraft, all of it. When another had walked in, Maya introducing her, Ryden's entire body froze. He stared at his plate for one long, tense moment before looking up. Steel-colored eyes locked on the queen as she walked in, and he slowly rose, along with his men, seemingly to pay respect.

"The North," she nodded, knowing of a few ways a man in the North could become what she could feel vibrating off his skin. The wolf at her side seeming to sneer at the man. The wolf by her did not know as much as Bella could run through her mind but it did smell it's own wearing human flesh and felt betrayed. Fortunately Bella's fingers came to the wolf's snout and ran over it gently. "Very very far North I would imagine," she mused, looking to Maya, grateful for the respect his men showed. "What was it you needed Inquisitor Savin for?" Bella asked Maya. "Or did you need him?" she turned to Ryden, golden eyes meeting his own that contrasted with hard steel.

Maya glanced over at the sound of scraping chairs. Ryden and his men had stood up to apparently pay respect to Queen Bellamy. Something they hadn't exactly done for the Red Priestess or one might argue for her. After all a threat to slit a women's throat wasn't exactly respectful. She sat again, nodding towards Ryden. He was the one who had wished to speak to someone with more authority than her and evidently he considered Queen Bellamy one of those people.

"Aye, I needed him." He walked around the table, his men exchanging questioning glances but not following. When he was close enough to the Queen, he gave a surprisingly graceful bow for one clothed in fur and travel-strained leather armor. He'd offered to take the queen's hand to kiss it, the formality done with much care.

Bella looked over Maya and the Priestess, wondering if they were still upset with one another. The last she recalled they were upset about something but Bella did not quite hear or understand what. Injured still from the evening before she extended her hand easily but the weight on her damaged legs felt unbearable as she did, the gesture was the most respectful she had received so far however, and she did not want to ruin it by showing her pain. "Help me to a chair, Ryden," she requested, feeling as though his title had been lost in his introduction. "Is there a reason none of us here can help?" she asked, the Priestess certainly had some skills and Maya was close enough to the Savin man that she surely knew some.

Maya sat back down. She did cast one last look at the Red Priestess, wondering if she, like Lord Pettaline, would implore her to take up her supposed birthright. Unlike when she was alone with Ryden and his men, she sat up perfectly straight again with a perfectly stoic expression. "I filled him in on the basics of what has happened," she mentioned. She didn't say that he had desired to speak to another man of the North. That was his to say if he desired to.

He'd helped her to the table readily, a strong support to her light weight. When she was seated, he spoke, words more tempered than usual. "The dead can't be brought back so there is no helping that. But I've heard many things about the Queen of Deadwoods. I am hopeful now that some light might be shed on the happenings I've encountered 'ere. I'd rather hear it frem yer mouth, now that I see yer attendin'."

There was an odd cunning to his eyes, not quite scheming but nevertheless intense. He was being careful in addressing the queen, for reasons that surpassed politeness.

Bella looked to Maya when he said he'd rather hear it from her, she assumed both of them knew that it really was Fane, at least currently, who had the most information about what was happening and Bella didn't doubt Maya had said all she knew. When she finally looked back to him he held a gaze she didn't quite understand, rarely encountering people with motives beyond their words. "Even so far in the North, I suppose my wolves roam further than I was aware," she smiled, her own eyes searching for whatever was in him that made him part of the darkness she worshipped. "We're not completely sure, the Inquisitor and the Prelate are speaking now, so perhaps something has developed. So far as we know the King was...assassinated," she stated plainly, knowledge not shared with those outside the castle. "There was talk of witches being involved and the Kesley family but I'm unsure of what that came to, perhaps Lord Savin's ward knew more," she offered, her hand reaching out for his, intent to feel whatever was running through him and place it's origin. "Did you come here to pledge some allegiance or -" but she was cut off because the moment her fingers grazed his skin she felt the curse running through him. It was a perversion of her darkness that grazed his flesh, something she had not felt but had heard rumour of. Her fingers withdrew immediately, eyes moving to the Priestess, wondering if she felt anything strange about him. "Or - or," she stuttered out. "Or to me?" he joke finally came but it fell flat having taken so long to be voiced.

#// and another one xD #got scene

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sarah-bae-maas · 6 years

Text

A Court of Hearts and Darkness Chapter Thirty Five - The Finale

It’s been over a century since the epic and bloody war against Hybern, but a new, unprecedented horror lies in wait to threaten everything the Inner Circle holds dear.

At a mere 17, it seems that the only one who can save them is the Heir to the Night Court, Feyre and Rhysand’s daughter Eleana, but as a creature so vile promises to kill everyone she loves, she must combat the urge to succumb to the darkness herself. The key to success lies hidden within her mate, the bastard born Kaden, who is as oblivious to the bond as her Court is oblivious to the war on the horizon.

With the help of her cousin and warrior Felix, the son of the famed Nesta and Cassian, they will try to save everything they hold dear, hopefully before the darkness takes them all.

(This fic was written pre-acowar, so please bear in mind there are some small differences but it can still hopefully be enjoyed!)

Link on Ao3 Masterlist

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***

-The Final Chapter-

-Chapter 35-

Kaden was attending a funeral.

He decided to come alone. No one but Azriel knew he was here, and he preferred it to be that way. He was wearing his finest suit, the one he had worn to his cousin Talysa’s wedding. He shed no tears, not like the many mourners around him. Not even as their bodies were lowered onto the pyres, not even as the ceremonious fire consumed their bodies and returned them to the earth from which they came.

It had been a week since the war had ended. In that time, both Felix and Eleana had their birthdays. Felix had once told him of the book he had made for Eleana stashed under his bed, and it gave Kaden an immeasurable joy to watch him give it to her in person.

In that time, High Lord Rhysand had given Kaden something he had never had before - power. The queen was dead, but there were still creatures roaming the land and skies, and Kaden, with his own team of warriors and his acute tracking magic, would hunt and kill them all. It just so happened that Kaden could not think of anyone better for the task than the Elite and handed the job right off to Felix. His brother had laughed, chastising Kaden for his stupidity. Felix couldn’t see, how did Kaden expect him to track those bloody creatures? So the Elite, albeit temporarily, were his.

And in that time, Kaden had gained a parent.

Felix came and found him the day after his battle with the queen. He came bounding into the house with Nesta guiding him, the woman looking windswept and terrified. She kept muttering never again, and Kaden didn’t even want to know how Felix had managed to fly them here without sight. Kaden was in Eleana’s room, they were having a well-deserved cuddle in bed, when Felix burst in, nearly pushed over the dresser, and demanded he winnow them to the Day Court that very instant.

Kaden threw a pillow at his head so hard that it knocked him back a step, but did as he asked, telling Eleana he would be home soon.

He didn’t know why they were going to the Day Court, only that Felix wanted them back at the High Lord’s palace. Kaden, figuring this had something to do with Felix’s research, obliged.

High Lord Helion looked unsurprised at their appearance, and took one look at Felix and said, “You know where to go.”

“Ah, actually I don’t. As you can see, I can’t see.” He grinned from ear to ear after that, and the look on Helion’s face when he’d realised what he’d said was priceless.

A servant showed them the way up to a high turret. It was in Helion’s personal wing but far from anyone else. They knocked on the door, and when Kaden entered he saw himself.

He saw his eyes, his hair, his skin, his height.

When he looked at this woman, he knew who she was. There was no doubt in his mind.

“H-how?” he gasped.

She looked at him like he was a book she was trying to translate.

“You must be her. D-Denora Ana. A woman called Elain once told me your name.”

She smiled but said nothing. She approached the two Illyrian males, stopping when she was eye level with Kaden’s impressive height. Kaden had never met someone taller than he, but she had half an inch on him.

“I knew this boy would bring my baby back to me.” She’d ran her hand through Kaden’s hair. “My only baby boy, I missed you.”

Kaden put his hands on her shoulders, too shocked to do anything else. “I – I missed you too.”

Den reminded him a lot of Morrigan – if Morrigan had been thousands of years older and a famed historian. Den said Kaden was free to call her whatever he wanted, and when he tentatively called her mother, she squealed with glee and declared it his first word. She had walked him around the Day Court, buying him food and peppering him with questions. She also shared some of her own adventures, including how she knew Helion.

“Oh yes! My little little star star. He is my brother’s son. Or, my brother’s son’s son’s son’s son’s son’s son. Lots of sons, and then there is Helion! If he isn’t careful, you could inherit his magic.”

“Pardon?”

“The blood that runs in his veins is the same that runs in yours. You are the nephew of my brother, who was High Lord of Day Court. He is long gone now, but he wasn’t like me, he had many children who had many children of their own. You are my only baby.”

When he returned, Felix was sulking in Den’s chambers. When they entered, Felix sighed dramatically. “I was hoping Helion would have pity sex with me. But nope, still a no-go.”

“Mind your language you scoundrel. You’re in the presence of my mother.”

Kaden had gone back every day since to see her. Usually, they just walked. She’d had such a long, rich life, intertwined closely with the Day and Winter Courts. One day, Morrigan came with her, and when Kaden introduced her as the woman who had been caring for her like a mother in Den’s absence, Den cooed and thanked Morrigan profusely, saying she knew they were friends after all. It was strange, having the two women together. Den made Morrigan look like a child. Even High Lord Rhysand was young in comparison to her. There was no one else in Prythian who matched her age with the exception of Amren. But Kaden wasn’t about to bring the subject of her up.

The day Kaden found out he gained a parent was the day he found out he lost one.

His lips were turning blue from the cold as he watched his father’s corpse honoured by those around him. His eyes were dry while he listened to the prayer songs of the Illyrians as four of his brothers joined his father. Azriel had told him when he’d first returned from the Day Court.

And now he was here.

Kaden touched his magic, the familiar grey veil shadowing the world as he looked to the Other Side.

His father, Leeam, Jakob, Alec and Damion were nowhere to be seen. Either their spirits had moved on, or they were still wandering the bloody plains where they had died.

Mikael, now the Lord of their camp, stood with his wife and children, his face grave. Mikael missed them. They were truly a loving family – but never to Kaden. No, Kaden was nothing but an inconvenient stain they could never remove.

Mikael met his gaze from across the pyres, the only thing separating them snow and flame.

Kaden turned away. The funeral wasn’t over, but Kaden was done.

////

Eleana stared at the assorted tapestries draping across the walls. They were all red with bright, yellow flowers adorning them. They covered what would have been a wall of windows and were stark against the white carpet. The chair she was sitting on was the same yellow as Felix’s house, and it gave her a weird sense of comfort, even if the seat itself was lumpy.

“Lady Eleana, there is no shame in being here. Healing for the mind is just as important as healing for the body,” the older female healer said, sitting in her own chair across the room with a pen and notepad in her hand.

“I don’t feel shame,” Eleana said. “I’m just not sure what to say.”

“Where would you like to start?”

“I’ve talked about what happened before, but only with my mate. He’s the most understanding person I know, and he’s been so supportive through all this.”

The healer smiled. “How did you meet him?”

Kaden wasn’t what Eleana expected to be speaking about while here, but she was glad to talk of a softer topic. “I have a habit of letting my magic guide me when I’m tired. Sometimes, I close my eyes and just walk, and I always end up where I need to be. The Illyrians at my camp had seen it for years, but Kaden was new. He saw me and asked if I was alright. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen.” Eleana laughed slightly. “If we hadn’t been interrupted by my cousin I know we would have done devilish things together that night. I knew that day. It was like being hit with a battering ram.”

“And he knew also?”

“No, actually. He’s known for only a few weeks.”

“How did that make you feel?”

Eleana went into the long story of her and Kaden’s relationship – the incredible highs, and the times where it felt like it would never happen at all. She spoke of the first time they’d danced together, the matching crowns the suriel had given them, the day she was taken by the Colloden and how he had saved her. It was a tale to rival the ones she read in her trashy erotica novels, but she loved it anyway and wouldn’t change a thing. Her story ended with her feelings on sex, and how even though she was as attracted to him as ever, her body just wanted to be by itself for a little while.

“That’s completely normal, Lady Eleana,” the healer said. “From the brief details you have provided me on the events of this month, you have gone through a serious trauma.” The healer went on to explain some more, even going as so far as to give her a book on assault recovery, and then asked about Felix. “Why don’t we take this piece by piece? Ease into it, if you will.”

So, Eleana talked of her cousin next, and by the time she was done telling that story her appointment was over. She would be back at least once a week though, more if things got to be too much for her

She left the room and walked down a hallway. In the foyer, both her parents were waiting. She greeted them with a tired smile, she was always tired these days, and her father put his arm around her shoulder as they walked. Her mother handed her chocolate, which Eleana thankfully took.

“How are you?” Her mother asked.

“I’m doing okay.”

/////

Kaden felt like he was Felix’s official escort. Wherever he went, Felix was never far behind. A month after the war, Kaden was still visiting his mother every day. It was usually at night, his days filled with tactics planning with the Elite and assorted High Lords who were assembling their own teams. Kaden got up early, ate with Eleana, went to work, went to the Day Court, then returned to his love. It was still surreal to him, that she was there when he got back, and he wished he could take her to the Day Court.

But that was unlikely to happen anytime soon.

Eleana had not even attempted to leave the Night Court yet when banishment orders started coming in. The Winter Court was the first, written officially. Some were just simple letters, Like Glaslane’s, that said not to come for the time being. Receiving that one had hurt Eleana the most. And angered Felix the most. The Illyrian demanded that Kaden take him there. He did, and then witnessed the screaming match of the century.

Even Lucien had succumbed to the pressure. At first, he wasn’t going to, even if the other High Lord’s made a pact that they would, but Eleana told him to just do it. It’s not like she went there often anyway, and this way at least he could feel better.

High Lord Rhysand was increasingly furious with every order sent. He went to every Court, but they all said the same thing. Their people are scared, and until they’re not, Eleana can’t come.

Kaden felt like he should raise the topic with Helion, but the two barely knew each other, even if it had been revealed that they were technically related.

When Kaden and Felix came to the palace, they were surprised to see Helion and Den waiting for them. Both had heavy fur coats on, and a smile was plastered on Den’s face.

“My cloud!” She greeted them both with kisses to the cheeks. “Helion, this is my son and his mate, Felix.”

“No, mother, Eleana is my mate. Felix is her cousin.”

She looked at them dubiously. “Are you sure?”

Felix was snickering silently beside him, and Kaden elbowed him. Hard.“Very sure. Shall we walk?”

“Yes, and as we walk I would like you to tell me where your mate is. Why does she never come?”

Kaden avoided looking at Helion, but Felix, gutsy as ever, grabbed his elbow as they started to walk.

“Please, Kaden, do explain why Eleana never comes with us,” he drawled.

Helion was clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning and forewent answering. Instead, he said, “We have started altering the official family trees. Soon, Kaden will be added to them all. We also made an official decree of his heritage and declared his citizenship as you asked, Denora.”

Kaden stumbled slightly. “You announced what about me?”

“Denora asked that we tell the other Courts who you were. It was quite confusing for them, they only knew you as the male from the Night Court that saved the mortal realm. I’m not sure they even know of your relationship to Lady Eleana.”

Kaden looked away and just kept walking forward. The roads were slick with melted snow. His mother walked through it like an expert. It was hard for him to remember that although they looked nearly the same age, she had thousands of years on him. She often referred to him as an infant, and he guessed in a way he was.

It was still very, very strange though. He loved the woman before him, could cry every time he thought of the sacrifices she made to have him, and yet…

Did it make him evil that he felt Lady Morrigan was more his mother?

Maybe he was just crazy. He barely knew either one of them. And Den clearly loved him very much. He should be more grateful.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he felt the need to tell her.

“I’m happy you’re here too,” she replied.

As they walked, Kaden noted something he had the past few times but never thought to bring up. He pointed to Helion’s palace in the distance. It looked to have holes in it, so you could see straight through to the other side and watch the grey clouds. They were giant mirrors, but once inside they acted as windows.

He turned to his mother and asked what the glass was.

“Oh, it’s very special,” she told him. “Outrageously expensive, but there is nothing more beautiful. I have seen homes built entirely of the stuff, and it’s like looking at a piece of the sky on land.”

Her words sparked a vision.

A house. Near the ocean, a few storeys tall and sprawling. A large garden with multiple courtyards. A greenhouse. A treehouse. Green grass everyone until you hit the golden sand of the beach. A house made of a glass that you can’t see in. A house, that if lived in, would let you feel like you’re outside all the time.

Never trapped, the way Eleana sometimes felt.

Kaden was going to build his mate a home.

/////

“So, I was thinking.” Kaden skirted up behind Eleana at the grocers, kissing her neck and wrapping his arms around her middle.

“Hm, what were you thinking?” The smile she gave him made his knees shake.

“Me. You. Dinner on the Sidra. No Felix, no parents, just us and an unreasonable amount of food.”

She picked up a bag of apples and added it to her basket. Today, when they had woken up in Kaden’s bed, they decided they were going to pretend that they were normal. Not an heir or a bastard, no wars, just a couple who needed to do normal, fae things.

“That sounds nice. Are we celebrating anything?”

They walked as one unit, making Eleana laugh and passersbys look at them with weird expressions.

“It’s been a month. Since the war ended. And nearly a week since you’ve had a nightmare.”

It was truly something to celebrate. The High Lord had informed him that they had been some of the worst he had seen. There were constant wards on the house to protect its infrastructure, and usually either Rhysand or Feyre stayed awake during the night, even if Kaden was also with her. Kaden was under no illusion that he didn’t need the help. After seeing them in real time, Kaden finally understood why Eleana wasn’t allowed to sleep without her parents or aunts and uncles around. He was slowly learning how to help her, but he also needed her parents guidance.

The healer she had been speaking to this past month seemed to be helping though. Eleana wasn’t as… empty. Hesitant. She now let him kiss her, put his arms around her, and she was making delightfully steady progress.

She went twice a week, and Kaden used that time to speak to estate agents and architects. No one knew, not even Felix, but he would bring his friend along when it came time to tour land. Felix’s sight may not be healed quite yet, and it really made Kaden work hard in describing things, but they were getting there. Either way, Felix would be good support, and he knew Eleana better than anybody.

Eleana looked thoughtful, and not about the peaches that she was holding at eye level.

“Should we hire a babysitter for Felix? Whatever will he do without us.”

Kaden’s laugh was obnoxiously loud, and he had to smother himself in Eleana’s shoulder to quieten down.

“Maybe he’ll go to the Day Court without me. He’s awfully enamoured by Helion, barely leaves my side if it means I’ll soon be in the Day Court.”

Eleana twisted in his arms to face him. “Maybe he’s attracted to Denora. Have you considered that?”

Kaden’s face went slack. “Surely he would never.”

Eleana shrugged.

Kaden winnowed away, only to return a minute later after having his head smacked by Felix for suggesting such a ludicrous thing.

Eleana only laughed at the look on his face.

_____

Kaden wasn’t kidding about the unreasonable amount of food.

They’d had five courses so far with another three on the way, and Eleana was so full she was thought her stomach might actually burst. It had gotten to the stage where it was making unhealthy noises, but she had no intentions of stopping now.

Kaden was telling her another story he’d learnt from Den, this one about the incredibly complicated family history he shared with the Winter and Day Court.

“All I’m saying is that Helion needs to hurry about and have children because apparently there’s a very real chance that if he dies, I’ll get his magic. And that’s a no from me.” He lifted a bowl of soup to his mouth and drank heavily.

“You don’t want to be High Lord?”

He shook his head. “I have zero qualifications for a position in anything. Hell, I’ve lived every moment until the last two months in a tent. I’m not cut out for being a High Lord, and nobody wants me to be one.”

He said it jokingly, but Eleana took his words very seriously.

“I want you to be High Lord,” she deadpanned.

Kaden sputtered slightly. “Pardon?”

“This isn’t something I like thinking about, but when the time comes and I’m High Lady? I would want you to be my High Lord.”

Kaden nearly said there was a chance that she wouldn’t become High Lady, but he tasted the lies on his tongue before he even said it. Even if Rhysand and Feyre had more children, there was no chance a sibling would inherit the title. Eleana was a textbook example on the signs of becoming a High Lord. Granted, a woman had never inherited the magic, but Eleana was different. She always had been, and she would definitely be the first inherently High Lady.

Kaden had never considered the possibility that she wanted more for him.

“I – there is nothing about me that would make me a good High Lord. My bloodline-”

“Is irrelevant. My mother was human. Besides, were you not just telling me about your new, fancy family? The son of a Lord in the Night Court and the cousin to the current High Lord of the Day Court.”

“Well… you got me there.”

She grinned at him.

They ate for a few more hours, the conversation flowing better than it had in weeks. It was simple, easy, and there were no pressing issues they had to deal with nor cataclysmic event to take up their time. It was like the two months between the beginning of their official relationship starting and when they were, mortifyingly, caught by Feyre.

It was also their first date in a while, and as Eleana looked at him, she felt her stomach flutter. She never stopped loving him, not for a single moment. If anything, it had grown while she was away.

The thing was, Eleana felt like she had a hundred years on him. She had a century of loving and missing him, and not being able to do a damn thing about it. She knew that no one really understood what she meant when she said it felt like so much longer than a fortnight, but Mother,the feelings she had for this male in front of her…

She’d had a hundred years of loving someone she was convinced she would never see again.

And it was so much sometimes that she couldn’t bare it.

She woke up next to him and often didn’t know if it was real or not. It wasn’t until he spoke to her that she knew that she was hereagain.

His hair shimmered from the white fae lights scattered around the restaurant. His cheeks were pink from the cold air slinking in from the window next to them, and his lips plump from the food they had been consuming for the last two hours.

She stood up on the tips of her toes, bracing her hands on the mahogany table as she leant over. She kissed his pink lips once, and upon seeing the delighted surprise in his eyes, kissed him again. Deeper, smoother, more than she had since the Bloodrite. Inappropriately, given they were in a public space.

He didn’t seem to care though, not as his hands gently cupped her cheeks, his thumbs smoothing over her cheekbones.

Her heart raced at the action, at the taste of wine on his tongue and the feeling of his nose bumping hers. She could feel his kiss in every inch of her skin – and she knew she was alive.

When they parted, her face was hot and chest heaving. She sat back down, dizzy. She lifted the glass of wine to her face to hide her wide smile.

They ate for another hour. The time was filled with laughter and happiness, and both left brighter than when they had come in. It was snowing like there was no tomorrow, and they huddled together as they went to Eleana’s favourite book store. Neither was ready to go home yet, and there were a few titles Eleana wanted to check out.

It was much warmer in the store, and the attendant took their coats and hung them, leaving Kaden and Eleana to browse. Eleana showed him her favourite books, and Kaden even picked up a few sequels to ones she had already read. He also found a large book full of compositions for the piano, ones he had neither heard nor seen, so he added that to the pile he wished to purchase.

While browsing more sheet music, Eleana put her hand in his back pocket.

“Would it be wilding inappropriate to make out right now?” she asked.

Kaden rested his stack of books on a shelf, taking care that none of them would fall, before turning to her.

“Probably.”

He kissed her.

/////

Kaden felt like a very dutiful husband. Here he was, cooking and cleaning the house he never had a chance to move into while Felix sat on the couch with some juice and scones.

“I’m feeling delicate today,” Felix said.

“No you don’t, you just want me to leave so you can get up to your old, scandalous ways. Well sorry Sunshine, you asked me to move in and now I’m here.”

Felix snorted.

Kaden lifted Felix’s feet so he could wipe the table they were propped on. “This house has more dust than a library.”

“We haven’t been here in two months, what did you expect?” He slurped his drink.

“I don’t know. I expected it to be self-cleaning or something.”

“Are there houses that can do that?”

“Fucked if I know, I’ve never really had one. Move your ass, I need to fluff the pillows.”

“Yes, your majesty, whatever you please.”

Felix stood and scooted away until he felt the bench. He leaned on it, yawning loudly.

He still had black patches covering both his eyes, but the healing was going well. His injuries were far more extensive than originally thought though, hence the long, agonising healing sessions. Unbeknownst to them, not only had the light from Kaden’s magic seared his vision, but so had the magic itself. If it had just been the light, Felix would have been better by now. Because it was more? Felix would likely need lenses the rest of his life. Kaden had already found some rather dapper ones he thought his friend might like, and even went as far as to have a woman High Lord Lucien knew rig them so they were even better than the best of glass. He’d had to use his mother’s name for that favour – apparently, most Courts valued her knowledge greatly. Being her son not only got him better glasses for Felix, but it had also given him an invitation to dine at the other Courts.

All of them. Officially. As if he were a noble.

Kaden declined on the basis that he only travelled with his mate. They said she was welcome, until he told them who she was. They shut up pretty quickly after that.

“Why can’t we just meet this guy at Velaris?” Felix perked his brow. “Unless this is a sex thing. Are you surprising me with an orgy? I have strict rules, but it’s been so long-”

“You are insufferable and I don’t know why we’re friends.” Kaden made the pillows look especially dainty for this meeting, wanting to make a good impression.

The person coming over was a fae who sold land on others’ behalf. He was coming to start proposing estates to Kaden.

“Because if Eleana saw me with a stranger, she would ask questions I’m not prepared to answer.”

“She wouldn’t be mad that you have plans with someone other than her.”

“I don’t want to lie to her. Omission doesn’t seem as bad as that.”

“I can’t fault your logic on that,” Felix said as there was a hard knock on the door.

Kaden grabbed Felix and sat him down before opening to greet the agent.

He was a portly man, nearly two feet shorter than Kaden. His hair was mousey and skin pale. His eyes were beady, and he was wearing a suit.

Kaden was wearing his leathers, as was Felix.

“Hello, Lord Kaden. I assume I am at the right house. You were not exaggerating its… colourful features.”

“Yes, yes, please come in. And please, just Kaden is fine.”

“Does Eleana call you Lord Kaden in bed? I would.”

“Holy hell Felix shut up,” Kaden hissed.

The agent looked up his nose at him, and Kaden smiled apologetically. “Please, take a seat. Can I offer you any refreshments?”

“A water would be appreciated, sir,” he drawled. “May I set up on the table?”

“Yes, please, that would be great, thank you.”

“Can I know yet what these plans are?” Felix asked, his knee bouncing impatiently.

“Any client information is confidential unless otherwise stated,” the agent answered.

“You can tell him anything,” Kaden said.

The male started to lay maps out on the table. There were areas marked with blue circles, and he placed small, painted cards next to each highlighted location. The cards had little paintings on them – samples of what the properties looked like. The agent started explaining the process of buying and asked many questions to help narrow down Kaden’s search.

He asked how far he wanted to be from the city, the acreage, whether he wanted a pre-existing home and so on, and with every question Felix looked more confused.

“Kaden, what are you up to?”

“I’m going to build Eleana a home, and you’re going to help me.”

“What?” He had a bare hint of a smile.

“I’m going to build us a home, then I’m going to surprise her with it.”

“Awh, Kaden, congratulations.” Felix stood and opened his arms. Kaden gave him a tight hug, patting him on the back.

Felix leaned over the table and took in the map. “Wow, that one looks really beautiful.”

“Which one is that?” Kaden said, looking down to see what he saw.

“That black one there. Looks mint to me.”

“The day you run out of blind jokes is the day I’ll be truly happy again.”

“Not the day I get my sight back? Tsk, how rude.”

Kaden groaned, and apologized to the agent again.

Off the bat he was able to cull half the properties. Nothing inland, it had to be on the coast, and there couldn’t be any existing structures. You had to be able to see Velaris, even if it was from a distance, and there had to be enough room for a very large house as well as multiple, expansive gardens.

By the end, there was a list of about six properties. All met Kaden’s specifications and were in his budget – thanks to High Lord Rhysand’s very generous pay checks – and the few drawings of them seemed nice enough. He thanked the agent profusely before setting dates to tour them all. He made sure Felix was available and made them on days where he would usually be visiting his mother so Eleana wasn’t suspicious to his whereabouts.

It was slowly but surely coming together.

/////

Eleana was alone when she woke up. She propped herself up on her elbow, Kaden’s piano and dresser blurry as her eyes adjusted to the waking world. The spot beside her was cold and she couldn’t hear noises from his bathroom. She starfished on the bed. She groaned, not wanting to get up yet, but forced herself to roll out of his very, very comfortable bed.

Wiping at her eyes, she went to look for him downstairs. Mor and Azriel were usually out by this time, so she didn’t have to worry about awkwardly running into either of them. The one thing she adored about their house was the carpet. It was lush and fluffy, making her feet feel like they were walking on a cloud and safe from the cold that covered her arms in goosebumps. When she went into the hall, she smelt freshly baked she-didn’t-even-know-what. She burst into the dining room expecting to see her mate, to be met with the welcoming calls of her family.

Every single one of them.

She stared at them wide eyed while thanking the Mother that she’d had the good sense to put pants on.

“Hello.” Kaden exited from the kitchen. He had ovenmits on and an apron the was adorably too small. He held a large plate of staked pancakes and popped them on the table before greeting her with a kiss to the forehead.

“Hello. What’s going on?” It’s not that Eleana wasn’t happy to spend her morning with her family, she was just awfully suspicious every time they came around unannounced. It usually didn’t end in good news.

“Today’s a good day,” Kaden told her. He put a hand on her back, guiding her to a free seat next to Felix.

She peered out the window. There was a raging blizzard outside, making it seem like it was still dark even if the sun had risen. Felix was still blind, she still couldn’t be properly intimate with Kaden, her mother and father were still walking on eggshells around her – supportive, loving eggshells, but eggshells all the same – and she was still not talking to Azriel.

It was like every other day, and she couldn’t think of why it would be exceptional.

“Why?”

He beamed at her. “Today is the one-year anniversary of one of the best days of my life.”

She cocked her head. Her family had conveniently started a loud conversation and weren’t looking their way.

“Today, my dark rose, is the day I met you.”

Her confused frown slowly grew to a smile. “Really?”

“Really. I made a note of it last year. I had a feeling it would be important.”

She placed her finger tips to her lips in disbelief. “A whole year?”

“A whole year. And personally, I feel like it’s an occasion all of Prythian should be celebrating, but just our family will do. For now.”

Eleana was in awe as they sat down and started helping themselves to the mountain of food Kaden had made with Felix’s guidance.

A whole damn year since he’d found her.

That meant a year since she’d their near-first kiss, the first time they danced together, when Felix nearly died, when she had, and lost her wings in the process. When Kaden had sent her all those letters that kept her sane during one of the most harrowing times of her life. A year ago today she met the love of her life, her mate, her everything. It was indeed a good day.

Until she had a thought.

“But wait,” she said loud enough for the whole table to glance her way. She had even gotten Thea’s attention.

She turned her body towards Kaden’s. “You were twenty a year ago. And by all accounts you are still twenty. Holy Mother Kaden we didn’t celebrate your birthday.”

Mor dropped her cutlery and gasped. Felix swore under his breath. Everyone was so mortified when they realised that when Quathryn copied her brother’s foul words no one chastised her.

Kaden just laughed.

_____

“We have to do something to make it up to him.” Eleana was furiously washing the dishes. After much shock, Kaden had explained that his birthday was a non-event to him, hence why he never mentioned turning twenty-one.

But Eleana felt dastardly. Especially when he had been so kind to her on her birthday. He had given her a note book – this beautiful, embossed leather – and every day before she woke up he would write her a note. The letters he had once written for her were already stuck into it, and he told her for every day that he lived her would write for her. Sometimes it was anecdotes, music he would later play for her, reminders of his love, and she had gotten him nothing.

“I feel like an arse,” Felix said, taking the dripping plate from her and drying it.

“You’re not the one sleeping with him.”

“Neither are you.”

She smacked him over the head. “Mind your own business.”

Soon, soon she would feel better. Surely.

And then they would have that night.

The ‘we survived the impossible and now will have the best sex of our lives’ night.

A male cleared their voice from behind them, and Eleana and Felix both blushed when they saw Azriel leaning against the bench with his arms crossed.

He pointed to the cloth Felix was holding. “Mind if I take over?”

Azriel approached Felix, clapping him on the shoulder. Felix nodded, handing over the towel and leaving without a word. They may be on fine terms again, but Eleana wasn’t.

They worked in silence, Eleana much looser on her definition of clean now that she was in a rush. It’s not that she didn’t love her uncle still, she was just still confused and hurt. And awkward.

“I’m sorry, Laya,” he finally said.

She didn’t reply.

“You were right, I do owe you an explanation. It’s one I’ve given Kaden a thousand times to earn the forgiveness he gives too easily, and that should have been something I extended to you. Especially after you trusted me with so much.”

So he talked. He tried to make her understand his actions. It wasn’t easy for her to comprehend, but what she did know was that he had always looked after her, been a trusted confidant, and him leaving Kaden when he was a child did not mean that one day he would leave the rest of them.

Even if she could not understand him, she could sympathise with his point of view.

They talked long after the dishes were done. They were never interrupted, even though they could hear the chatter of everyone as they remained in the house to wait out the snow.

And by the end, she said, “Okay.”

His eyes glistened, and his hands reached for hers. “I missed you, Laya. I’m so glad you’re home.”

/////

The room wasn’t pitch black this time. Usually, they met with the healer in the darkest room so she could control the light, limiting the pressure on Felix’s eyes as she tried to heal them. If the smell was anything to go by, the room was once a storage room.

But today, they were in your average room. White walls. Rectangular windows. Brown timber floors.

Kaden had never been so happy to be average.

The healer eased the patches from Felix’s eyes, her expert hands completely steady.

Felix blinked and squinted at the light, and Eleana had to hold his hands so they didn’t reflexively cover his face.

The healer made him open them wider, and little tendrils of magic left her fingers and probed at the injury. She hummed as she worked. Usually, the room would be filled with Felix’s screams, but they had been told in their last session that there was no more she could do. From here on in, it would be about check-ups and maintenance as they waited to see if Felix’s eyes would heal more on their own.

“You’re doing well,” she said.

“What progress has been made?” Amren asked.

The older female didn’t usually come to the appointments. But over the passing months, Kaden had noticed her popping up wherever he was. She would be at Azriel’s for dinner, would come hunting with him and the Elite to ‘observe,’ she even once crashed a date with Eleana. His mate didn’t mind – she had no idea what Amren thought of him, but Kaden was getting increasingly frustrated. He had nothing to hide – except he did. At least once a week he told everyone he was going to the Day Court when in reality he was galivanting the Night Court looking for the perfect property. She was looking to catch him lying, and this was his only one. He knew that she would use it to his detriment.

The healer looked grim at Amren’s question. “There is no change.”

Kaden shook his head. Eleana reached out her hand, and he came to her side and Felix’s back. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he used one hand to grip Felix’s sleeve and the other to wrap around her waist.

“Is this it then?” Felix wasn’t as forlorn as the rest of them by the news, in fact, he was smirking.

“We’ll try one more time. If there’s nothing to note again I’ll call it.”

Felix squinted at her, then turned his head to look at Kaden and Eleana. “This is good news!” he rejoiced. “I can still see, I’ll just need some help. This is a much better outcome than we all originally thought there would be.”

His words rang true, but Kaden still felt guilt surge through him. He had near blinded his brother, and he was too damn nice to admit it.

“I’m sorry.” Kaden’s voice was so thick with emotion that the words were barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know what for, but I forgive you. Whatever wrong you think you’ve ever done to me, I forgive you.”

The healer reapplied his eye patches and left them. Eleana thanked her profusely for her work before helping Felix to his feet. Kaden put his arm around Felix, walking with him and Eleana out of the office and in the direction of the Rainbow.

The cold air had started to shift in spring, and puddles littered walkways. Children were about, splashing each other and squealing with delight. Eleana used the water to make little animals, and the children howled with laughter as the water-animals raced after them as they ran around. They saw her, and one little girl – so trusting were the fae in this safe city – pulled on Eleana’s skirts and asked for more more more.

Eleana obliged, and they stopped on their way to dinner to give the children a little magic show.

Eleana made a star chart with the water. Kaden, having worked on his magic everyday while hunting the creatures, had started to master the more unusual aspects of his magic. With the golden light that he could now manipulate for anyone to see, he lit Eleana’s stars, making them glow in the evening light, to the awe of not just the children but also many fae nearby.

Felix quite enjoyed himself, even if he couldn’t see the spectacle.

After an hour or so, and much to the dismay of the children, they continued on. They intended to get a few drinks to celebrate the slow return of Felix’s vision, but Eleana detoured to the bookstore with Felix. Kaden continued on, saying he would find a place for them all and summon her when he did.

Amren was on him like a shadow.

He didn’t say a word to her, just did as he said he would. She would speak her mind eventually.

“Who is that fae,” she demanded while Kaden was browsing menus.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” he said merrily, so that he might unnerve her just a bit.

“That short man that looks like an undertaker.”

The agent he was using to look at land. He wondered when Amren had seen them together and didn’t want to think of how she must have followed him either to camp or to his appointments. If her confusion was anything to go by, she must have seen them together in Illyria.

“I know many short males.”

She sunk her fingers into the back of his neck like claws, a few fae turning in worry at the sound of his pained grunt. Amren dragged him away, some fae standing but looking at a loss as they recognized Amren.

He refrained from growling as she shoved him into a wall in an alley. As she released her grip on him and stood in a fighting position in front of him, he touched the back of his neck. Blood coated his fingers and he swore. He would heal quickly, but he could feel it seeping into his collar and down his back.

“What the fu-”

“You need to leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Have you not damaged her enough? I don’t know what vendetta you have against this family but I will kill you if you hurt her again. But Eleana is too risky with Rhys and Feyre here. So, who’s next? Will you murder Felix again? Mor? Maybe your confidence has been shaken and you’ll go after defenceless Thea.”

Kaden spat at her feet, the most ungentlemanly thing he had ever done. “I have done no wrong.”

“Even you admitted that you blinded Felix. And Mother knows you’ve made little to no progress on the creatures. You haven’t even given Rhys your estimate report on how many you think are left. Deflecting?”

He snarled at her but didn’t move. “I’m not even going to bother replying to you. You think I did something wrong? Go tell High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Feyre. And fuck it, you have strong ties with the Summer Court go tell High Lord Tarquin too. I know who I am, and so do they. I find it insulting that you think Eleana would be gullible enough to fall for the schemes of a lowly male.”

Amren bared her teeth at him but stepped back. He’d heard the stories about her, but she hadn’t been swinging fists the way she used to for decades.

He hated speaking to her with such disrespect, but her words just made him boil in anger. It made him wonder at what point he’d become so soft – he’d heard much worse from his late brothers.

Somehow, his integrity was the one thing this peculiar fae-Illyrian family never questioned about him, and the thought that that may have been compromised was infuriating.

“She fell for the schemes of a lowly queen.”

Red.

He saw red at her words, and if it hadn’t been for the look of regret on her face as she spat the words at him he may have made a grave mistake. Because he was a good man, but he was a good man freshly mated and people had died for doing less.

“How. dare. you. You will never say such hateful things again. I don’t care how much you spite me, but she.” Kaden cut off his own words, putting a fist to his mouth.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his stomach clenched at her words. It was the kind of sick you felt when you were so enraged by someone’s idiocy that you could spit fire at them.

“If you’re so concerned about me, report me. Officially. Have an objective third party investigate me under General Cassian’s orders.”

He stalked off, shoving past her. The same concerned fae were lingering, and he gave them a reassuring smile.

Appetite and mood ruined, he flapped into the air, heading in the direction of Illyria, sending a quick message to Felix not to expect to see him for another day or two.

He was going hunting.

/////

Kaden and Eleana had been floating between her childhood home and Azriel and Mor’s. They always slept together, her back usually pushed to his warm chest with his arms around her. She said she liked the feeling of knowing he was everywhere, and by morning she had usually spun to press her face into the crook of his neck.

Kaden let her decide where to sleep. Wherever she was and wherever she felt most comfortable was where he would be. Even if it meant stumbling home covered in black blood and near collapsing in the shower from exhaustion.

Tonight, he slept like the dead. No dreams, no feeling, he couldn’t even remember his head hitting the pillow.

The only thing he knew was that he had been struck awake – physically struck.

He awoke gasping, his arm aching and his throat constricted. It felt tight, and he looked down in a panic to see that Eleana’s darkness was wrapped around his whole body. He couldn’t breathe, all he could do was reach out his pained arm and shake her.

She was limp. In a deeper sleep than she had been for months, Kaden didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t the first night Eleana had had a nightmare, but it was the first time she had done so when neither Rhysand nor Feyre were there to help. Her father had usually burst into the room before it escalated this far.

Kaden’s face was turning beet red, and his veins started to protrude from his forehead. He tried to yell, but his voice was nothing but sparse expels of air.

His magic burst from him, lighting the room and dissipating her darkness. He gulped in air, amazed at what he had just done. Never in his life had his light been able to keep her darkness at bay. By all accounts, no one had.

He didn’t spend longer than a few minutes on the thought, not when Eleana was next to him squirming. Her mouth was open as if she would speak, but when he straddled her to try and wake her up, she let out an excruciating scream.

It was so loud he had to cover his ears. He didn’t see it coming when her darkness whipped out, sending him flying backwards. He was lucky there were wards on her room, otherwise he would have gone crashing through her window.

He swore loudly, rushing back to her side. He tried to think of what Rhysand and Feyre did, but they had it down to a fine art. They had been doing this for years.

She was sobbing, and her arms flailed as she tried to stop an invisible attacker. Claws apparated on her hands, and her fangs grew an inch.

Wake up wake up wake up

He tried to yell through the bond that was still trying to repair itself. They had made little progress on it, neither worried because they could still feel the inklings of it. It was getting there, he could feel it at least, know she was alive and healthy, but that was about it.

She slashed at him unconsciously. He moved back quickly but was still nicked enough that he had to go to the bathroom and quickly wrap the cut. It wouldn’t need stitches, luckily, but both the High Lady and Lord had ended up with injuries that did.

His blood pooled in the sink as he tried to wrap the cut with one hand while increasingly frazzled.

He managed to do it. He turned back, but his eyes got caught on a bucket next to the door. Usually, they kept it for after in case Eleana needed to vomit, but tonight he would use it for something far more impractical.

He filled it with water – cold – and went back to her room. She had ripped the mattress to shreds and she had started to change forms. She must have been having one hell of a dream, hopefully this woke her up from it.

He poured the water over her face and torso and she woke up with a welch.

She spat out cold water over the side of the bed and kicked as she came to.

“What the fuck.”

“I’m sorry, it was the only way.”

He sat down next to her on the ruined mattress and brought her to his chest. She pushed away slightly, but only so that she had a good read on his face.

“You’re here,” she breathed.

“Yes, of course.”

“I could have – I could have sworn you were in Illyria, that your brothers in that damned Room-”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

A single tear slipped down her face. She shook her head slightly, as if she were trying to shake the dreams from her head.

“The Room. I haven’t dreamt of the Room since I met you. At least this was just a dream. You’re here, and that was just a dream. You’re okay. You’re alive.” She paused. “You’re bleeding.” Her fingers touched the bandage on his arm. She undid them, inspecting the damage she caused. Apologetic, she laid her hand over the wound until it was healed.

“I’m okay. Tell me about this Room. You’ve dreamt of it before?”

She levelled her gaze with his. “I don’t know if dreamt is the right word. I thought it was dreams, for the longest time we all did. If we had known the truth we would have done something.”

She was twiddling her thumbs.

Kaden slid one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, picking her up. He took them to one of the guest rooms and sat her on the bed. He stripped her of her wet clothes and left only to get her a new pair. She slipped them on, and since it was only his shirt that was damp, he removed it and climbed into bed.

“What do you mean?” he asked her.

She smiled sadly. “It’s funny. If you mentioned the Room to anyone else they would know in a heartbeat.”

Kaden paused. “You don’t have to tell me.”

She crawled under the covers and lied facing him. “The Room is your room. There were signs, for years, that we were to be mated. I just didn’t know that until Talysa’s wedding.”

Kaden was confused but listened to her every word.

As always, their bed was a safe space. Whether it was one that belonged to them or one they borrowed, it was a haven.

And with that in mind, Kaden listened to Eleana as she told another story. This one wasn’t like her others, this one was about a little girl in a Room that saw and experienced inhumane crimes and injustices. Throughout the story, the girl grew. Her whole life was plagued with this Room. Her family tried desperately to protect her from it, but there was nothing they could do.

When she was seventeen, the dreams finally stopped. It was like she could rest easy for the first time. They had been far and few between by that age, but she was always scared that when she went to sleep the night terrors would return.

This girl attended a wedding with the man she was in love with, and he showed her his childhood room beforehand. Stepping in there was like leaving the waking world and entering her mind, and that is when she knew the truth.

Like her father had with her mother before her, she saw the life of her mate. Where her parents only had glimpses, she was so strongly tied to him that the bond – or maybe it was fate, or a magic unexplainable – showed her his life over a decade before they were to meet.

Kaden listened solemnly.

He felt…

Awful.

While she had been seeing him, he knew he had been seeing her. But while hers forced her to healers upon healers that couldn’t help, he saw Velaris. He didn’t really make the connection until now, the dancing and music more vivid than the landscape itself.

When she had finished, he pulled her in closely. He kissed her cheeks, her head, her nose, her lips.

And he thanked her. For the music. And because it was those dreams that made him want to dance. And if it had not been for that, and music, he would have given up a very long time ago.

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you,” he said over and over again.

/////

Kaden brought his sword down in a wide arc, cutting through the bellies of the three creatures attacking him. He made a mental note of their bodies. He was trying to make a cheat sheet to them, an encyclopedia on everything the queen cooked up with her magic, and the list was growing every time he went hunting. Turns out, he had barely seen anything over the past year – luckily, if one could even say that – he had already seen some of the worst, and that had somewhat prepared him.

The hunting had was going well, even if Amren insisted with hisses in his ear when no one else could hear that it wasn’t. It was also better now that winter was over, although spring did mean more foliage which meant more cover for cowering creatures.

He watched their pale pink bodies fall. Satisfied, he moved onto the next.

They had been here for about an hour, a large cluster gathering in the Summer Court’s rainforests. The Elite had been joined by a squadron made by Tarquin himself and they had yet to lose any lives.

Kaden kicked a creature, and rammed his sword through its throat, twisting, the head soon fell as the metallic scent of blood fixed with the damp, grassy smell of the forest around them. Sweat was sliding down his back, the air unbearably humid. The grass tickled his ankles and damn was he working his lungs hard.

“Clear!” a voice boomed.

“Clear!” followed another.

The soldiers fighting the creatures shouted as their areas were cleared and then checked. When Kaden had heard the voices of all the team leaders in the Elite, he shouted the word himself.

He gestured to two members. They collectively came over and collected the body and head of the last creature he killed, placing it in a wooden box they carried. They were taking home specimens to be studied by fae that specialized in this area, so that hopefully, in the event that something similar occurred again, they would be better prepared.

“Lord Kaden, I think you should come see this.”

The soldier was one he had only just met. Belonging to Tarquin, he was tall and dark skinned. His shoulders were broad and covered in tattoos, not dissimilar to the ones Kaden had as an Illyrian. He had fought in the Spring Court at the end of the war.

Kaden was glad he didn’t bring Felix; his best friend would have pounced on a male like this.

“Just a moment, I have to clear the area.”

“I’ll do it, Lord Kaden,” a young solider volunteered. If it had been Kaden’s choice, he wouldn’t have had someone so young, only fifteen, on his service, but he was here fighting alongside his brother and father. And that – well, that was something Kaden could sympathise with.

“Be careful. Check them all and remove their hearts. Remember to look above and below. Ask for help of you need it,” Kaden said sternly. “Your name, soldier?”

“Vetly.”

Kaden nodded and walked to the side of the first soldier. His hand was pushing aside the shrubbery to reveal dozens of broken eggs.

“Well, that explains the question of whether or not they can breed.” Next to the eggs were lizard looking things, slimy and cawing unnaturally. They were scattered in the under bush, and clearly still dependant on their mother.

“How shall we proceed?” asked the same handsome solider that summoned him.

“Take the offspring and add them to the box. Inform your High Lord about the findings and tell him to expect a full report from me by tomorrow. I’ll send the same report to the other Courts. This isn’t the best-case scenario, but it’s one we can handle.”

Kaden heaved a sigh. It felt like his lungs were wet. He was glad to be going home after this. They may have been here for an hour, but they’d been going since dawn. Before this was a town that had creatures living in the sewer and entering homes through the plumbing, but at least here there was no fae residences or towns in sight.

Kaden subtly tried to smell his under-arm. He wrinkled his nose; his scent was rank.

He was about to give the orders for everyone to go home, but a curdling scream stopped him.

He bolted in its direction and was horrified to find a creature wrapped around the leg of the young Vetly. Blood spurted everywhere, including over Kaden’s face as he quickly approached.

He was in strife. He had to get on his knees and palm two knives, and hack off the creature carefully so he didn’t cut the poor child.

When he finally got it off with the help of another Elite member, he flinched back and had to hold in his vomit.

The creature had taken his foot clean off. The bone was a just a shard sticking through bloody flesh and the smell was revolting in the heat of the Summer Court.

Kaden wrapped the wound tightly and winnowed him, leaving instructions for his family to meet him at the palace.

As they stepped onto the floor of the Summer palace, Vetly howling in pain, Kaden sent a prayer to the Cauldron that the boy would overcome this.

_____

“Kaden, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk about what happened today.”

Kaden was making his and Eleana’s bed before she came home when the voice of High Lord Rhysand interrupted him. He tossed the pillow he was holding onto the spare bed they were still using and faced Rhysand.

“High Lord. I’ve included all the details in the report I sent to you about the offspring we found but excluded the amputation from what I sent to the other High Lords. I hope I did the right thing.”

“You did, definitely. It was good, very thorough.”

Kaden smiled awkwardly, shuffling his feet. He had barely spent time with the High Lord without Eleana at his side. Kaden still struggled in his presence. He had always been the highest authority to Kaden, long before he’d ever met the male’s daughter.

And although Kaden might now hold the title of Lord, that didn’t mean he connected with it.

“I want to make sure you’re okay.”

That was not the question Kaden was expecting.

“Pardon sir?”

“It’s come to my attention that you are the only one of our children that isn’t seeing a healer after the war. Cassian and Nesta even have someone that speaks to Quathryn just to make sure. Azriel isn’t one to broach the subject, but all the resources we have here are available to you. You needn’t worry about the cost or any stigma, Velaris is free of both.”

The High Lord spoke in the same tone that he’d heard grandfathers use on children and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He shuffled on his feet.

“Thank you, High Lord.”

“You really must stop calling me that. Just Rhys is fine. I do like you, you know. A lot. I think you’re very good for my daughter and nephew. And brother and cousin. Mor and Az adore you.” Rhysand stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Which is why I want to make sure you’re all good. I know you’re better equipped at dealing with trauma than Felix and my young Butterfly, but you don’t have to bottle things in to maintain that image.”

Kaden looked at him wide-eyed. “Okay, yes sir.”

Rhysand laughed. “Come with me, I want you to tell me everything that happened today. I have whiskey if you need it, but also a delightful mint blend of tea. Your choice.”

Rhysand put his arm around Kaden’s shoulder and walked them to the door.

It was in no way passive aggressive, and Kaden could tell that the High Lord did just genuinely care. Which was strange. He had become so accustomed to being looked down upon that it was a shock when he wasn’t.

Kaden lost his family long before the war.

But maybe it had brought him a new one.

/////

“Are you ready?” asked the healer.

“Soready, you have no idea.”

For the last time, she peeled away Felix’s eye patches. He blinked and squinted and as his gaze met Eleana’s they both smirked.

“Look at how nice they look! You can’t even tell they were damaged,” Eleana told him.

He stood from his chair and hugged the healer. He patted her head, a trait he had inherited straight from his father, and moved to hug Eleana next.

She was utterly ecstatic that this was over. Felix’s sight, while not fantastic, was still good enough. As of now, she knew he could distinguish the pastel colours that made up the room. He knew where the furniture was but could not make out any detail nor exactly what it was – no matter how close or far he was to the subject. With the lenses her mate had hidden in his pocket, Felix’s sight would be better than hers.

“Only took five months,” Felix joked. “We’ll have to celebrate. I have another appointment to look at lenses and see if there is a glass that might improve my vision, but after that I’m free.” He turned his head toward Kaden. “And you finished nice and early today.”

“I wanted to be here,” Kaden said, pulling on Felix sleeve.

Felix pulled away from Eleana and went to hug his friend when he was stopped by a hand on his chest.

“I have something for you.”

Felix leant forward and said something in Kaden’s ear too low for her to hear. Whatever it was, it must have been vulgar. Kaden went bright red. A lovely red, one Eleana adored.

But she really didn’t want to know what Felix said to make him react in such a way.

“That is most definitely notwhat I have for you.”

“Guaranteed it would be more fun.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Kaden reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular, leather case. Felix cocked an eyebrow as he saw it and took it swiftly from Kaden’s hands. Felix opened it, the hinges tight from lack of use, and stopped to process what he saw.

“Thank you. I love blurry rectangles.”

Kaden smiled and lifted the glasses from their case. He carefully slid them onto Felix face, and Eleana near cried of joy when Felix blanched back with his eyes wide.

“Holy shit. Like, holy fucking shit,” Felix blurted.

“I know, right? You can adjust the settings as well so that in different environments or time of day it suits the situation better.”

The frames were a simple black, the rims circular. They made Felix’s strong jaw more prominent and suited the colour of his hair. Kaden chose well.

“You look rather dapper if I do say so myself,” Kaden told him.

Felix strode to the mirror, everyone in the room looking on in amusement. He styled his hair so that rather than it falling over his forehead it was flicked back. He adjusted the glasses and stood up straighter.

“You’re damn right I look dapper.”

/////

Kaden was doing his familiar evening walk through the palace to see his mother. He had been slack lately, only coming once a fortnight, maybe week, and it had been ten days since he had seen her. He didn’t warn that he was coming, hoping to surprise his mother.

He was sweating profusely as he walked, summer hitting the Day Court hard. At least he’d recently cut his hair. He had let it grow so long he could tuck it behind his ears, but now he could feel the sunshine on his neck.

He walked up the many flights of stairs. It was like a sauna, with every eight steps offering relief as he climbed past a window. He knocked on her door. She didn’t say anything, so he presumed he was safe to enter.

He walked in and smiled when he saw her.

“Afternoon,” he said cheerily.

Her lips turned down at the sight of him.

“Excuse me?”

He was accustomed to her confusion- her slip-ups, her forgetfulness. She was still in recovery from the decades she spent in Hewn City. She wasn’t even sound enough to tell them why she was there in the first place.

He walked to the windows and pointed at the sun sitting low on the horizon.

“Who are you to walk into my room?” she asked him.

Since meeting her, she had started to gain weight. Her hips and torso had filled out again, and no longer did her clavicles slice through her skin or her eyes look sunken. The rings she wore no longer flung from her fingers when she waved and her belt was getting less necessary with every passing week.

Her regained health made her appear taller and fiercer, Helion often commented that her looks started to blend more with Kaden’s.

Kaden could see the fire in her eyes as she looked at him. A drop of unease settled in his stomach at the look.

“I’m sorry, I should have waited for you to call me in,” Kaden placated. He had never heard her use that tone with him, and quite honestly, it was unsettling.

She waved him off. “I have no need of you now. Come back with the dinner slaves.”

“I’m having dinner with Eleana tonight.” He took a step toward her, which prompted her to retreat slightly. He put a hand over his chest, unsure of what was happening. “Do – did you want to come? Helion said it wasn’t a fantastic idea but-”

“Who are you to speak to me in such a tone? Address your betters in the proper manner,” she snapped.

Kaden was taken aback. Never had she spoken with anything but love in her voice and the way she was looking at him was the way someone would look at a stranger.

“Mother?”

She scoffed at him. “Does it look like I have a child? Now shoo before I have High Lord Exeter take care of you.”

“Helion is High Lord.” Kaden was shaking.

His mother scoffed. “Exeter!” she shrieked. She bared her teeth and ferally growled. Her eyes were wild and she looked like she might charge him. “Exeter! Exeter! Exeter Exeter Exeter.” She grabbed her chair and threw it at him. Kaden, so shocked by her actions, let it hit him.

He felt the wood splinter and slice his face, the bones in his wrist cracked audibly, and he just stood there while she threw her side table. It had a glass countertop, and it was only due to his reflexes that he deflected it.

Ghostly pale, he walked backwards until he hit the door. He scrambled to open it, and his legs moved but his mind didn’t but somehow he was out and slamming it just as something smashed into the place he had just been.

He could hear her screaming. He couldn’t feel the heat as he slowly walked down the stairs. He wasn’t sure when Helion started calling his name and when he had made it to the palace’s marble steps.

A strong hand clasped his shoulder and forced him to stop. Helion was in front of him, the High Lord alarmed.

Kaden couldn’t make out his words. He could feel every beat of his heart though. His chest was tight, but it didn’t hurt, not the way his stomach did. He felt every prick of the scorching wind like a pin to his skin. With every breath, he felt like he was sinking.

How long had he been here?

He heard Helion say his name again before he heard nothing but ringing.

_____

Kaden was lying on a couch. There was a hand running through his hair – nails were scratching his scalp soothingly, and it made him want to fall asleep.

“Are you awake, my love?”

Kaden didn’t know when he’d been transported to the Night Court or even where he was, but the sound of Eleana’s voice had him blinking his eyes open.

“Take your time, breathe, I’ll be here when you’re ready,” she whispered. She kissed his forehead and then rested her head on his chest.

“What happened?” His voice was groggy.

“You had a panic attack.”

“I did?”

“Azriel told me that you’ve had one before. He’s outside keeping guard.”

Kaden sat up. He put his head in his hands. He felt fuzzy – like a giant had picked him up and shaken him.

“Your mother… Helion told me that the reason he didn’t warn you about her behaviour is because he wasn’t expecting you. Apparently she’s been having off days, and on those days she can’t quite remember where she is or what time it is.”

“She was calling for a man named Exeter,” Kaden told his mate, trying to piece together what she was saying.

He thought his mother was getting better. In the half-year since he’d met her, she had never had one of these episodes. But for Helion to explain her condition to Eleana meant it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. He wracked his brain, wondering how he missed this.

“Helion’s record show that High Lord Exeter ruled about 3,000 years ago.”

He nodded, unsure of what to do with the information. At least he had a better gauge on her age – he had underestimated.

Eleana offered him water. He said yes, and she poured him a glass from a pitcher on a table an arm’s length away. She lifted it to his mouth, and after he had drunk thoroughly, she put the glass aside and replaced it with her lips.

She tasted salty, like she’d been crying, but Kaden was too focused on the wonderful feeling of her mouth to ask. She moved from her own chair to the little space on his. He braced his arm around her, bringing her as close to him as he could. Her scent was intoxicating – distracting.

They were both breathless when she pulled back.

“You scared me,” she said. “Helion, too.”

“Did he bring me straight to Velaris?”

She shook her head.

Kaden finally looked at the room, trying to garner where they were.

He could see billowing trees outside and could feel the heat through the open windows. Windows was actually an incorrect term, they were outside in a foyer. The roof and floor were the same gold-veined marble, and they were surrounded by the strong scent of eucalyptus as they wind swept through the room.

“Are we still in the Day Court.”

“Yes.”

He looked at her.

She was outside the Night Court.

He expected her to be flushed with joy, bright with wanderlust, but she was terse, her jaw hard and her face red.

“How?”

“When you fainted and he summoned Azriel, I told him he could either let me into the Court to be with you or I would storm into the Court to be with you. Either way, I had to be at your side when you woke up.”

“That was a risky move.”

No danger could keep me from your side. I love you too damn much.

Kaden lurched forward, capturing her mouth with his again at hearing her words through the bond. Crystal clear, the tether had repaired itself enough that once again they were bridged together.

I can hear you I can hear you

You make me worry, she interrupted. When I saw the maids taking away her broken furniture, it coiled something inside of me. No wonder you reacted the way you did. I know she’s not like your father or brothers, but surely it triggered something-

Oh who gives a shit what it triggered, you’re in the Day Court.

Promise me you’ll see a healer when we return.

I promise. Are we allowed to leave? I have so much to show you. I need to introduce you to Den! Kaden paused, stopping himself. But not today.

No. She shook her head. Not today.

/////

So far Kaden had been to eleven different places with the agent. Not a single one felt like home, or even a place he could make a home, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t disheartened.

They were on their way to the twelfth, and this was the first time Felix could actually see the place rather than just reply on Kaden’s subpar descriptions. He was quite perky about it, a pep in his step and far more chatty than usual.

They rode horses to reach the property, and Kaden liked the view as they did. This was more outside the city, the ride likely irksome for some fae, but Kaden knew he would be flying and it would take half the time. He and Eleana could also both winnow, a trait surely their children would inherit.

There was little woodland around, much thicker forests in the distance though, and the path had them zig-zagging next to white cliffs.

After a half hour of hard riding, the agent raised his hand to stop them. They climbed off their horses and Kaden looked back in the direction they came, stunned by the beautiful view of the city. They had gained altitude, so Velaris sat beneath but at a distance that made it look like they were gazing into a valley. He could see the defined areas of the city, the Rainbow standing out for the lights that were lit at all hours of the day. The sun was high, but Kaden knew when it set the view would intensify ten-fold.

The property was outlined by a rudimentary fence. It was quite large. It definitely had the space Kaden was looking for.

The agent led them to the edge of the cliff. It was maybe a twenty-metre drop, but steps had been carved into the side and at the bottom low tide meant there was their own personal beach.

“The water here near quite reaches the cliffs. The beach is at its largest now and will be an arc a third of the size at its smallest. Only in a storm does it touch, which is why it is never recommended to have permanent structures built down there. The land is fertile, and the further you go is when you start encountering the farming villages.”

Kaden looked at the calm water beneath and tried to picture his life here.

It had a lot of potential, that’s for certain, and it checked every criterion.

Felix started asking the agent questions Kaden never thought to. Felix was playing up the glasses look, he had suit pants, a white button up shirt rolled to his forearms and was wearing a matching vest. He looked like a tutor you would see at a palace who was teaching children by day and seducing nobles by night.

Kaden was happy he was here. Exuberant, even.

“Can we go down?” he asked.

The agent nodded but said he would be saying, and Felix said he would as well. Kaden shrugged and headed down the stairs.

They were well worn from use and had no rails. If Kaden was to buy this place, he would definitely replace them. Maybe with an enclosed spiral staircase that twisted right down so it wasn’t so steep.

He noticed a lot of spaces nestled into the cliffs where birds and such must live. He liked that it was teeming with life.

He made it to the sand. It was cleaner than that in the city proper and was the lightest yellow he had ever seen. He took of his shoes and rolled up his pants. He padded into the water, letting it lap up to his ankles. He threw out a small tinge of magic to check if there were hidden rocks under the water, but nope, all clear.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

There wasn’t much to see, so he headed back up. As he put his foot on the first stair, a glinting from next to it caught his eye.

There was a little nook next to the stairs. He leant down to see what it was. Something was shining in the sun, and he had to brush some sand aside to see what it was.

It was two rings. One band thicker than the other, they both had onyx stone in a ring that supported swirls of red, blue and purple opals in a vine pattern. He slipped the larger one onto his left ring finger and smiled.

They matched the crowns that he and Eleana had received so very long ago.

“Thank you,” he said to the forest faeries that must have left them for him and Eleana.

He put them both into his breast pocket and walked up the stairs, the smile never leaving his face.

Felix’s expression was similar to his. He put his thumbs up in question and Felix nodded. He liked this one. A lot. It was the only one to have his approval so far.

Kaden knew what he would do the moment he found those rings.

“I’ll take it.”

____

It was a week later. Kaden had two things to do today. The first was see the architect in the Day Court that had been working on the blueprints for the house Kaden was to build and give him a final price estimate pending changes. The moment that was done, he was going straight to the Night Court to sign for his and Eleana’s land.

His mother, who was faring well today, was coming with him and Felix. He’d had a hard day hunting – they nearly had another amputation after a creature’s claws had sliced so deeply into a woman’s leg they weren’t sure if they could have saved it. His mother’s presence was a comforting one. It was as though nothing had ever happened, even if her episodes had repeated.

Kaden was scared about it happening again, but now that he knew about its possibility he could be better prepared.

Felix had his arms linked with Denora and the two were yapping away. When they arrived at the architect’s office, they decided to stay outside so they could keep talking while Kaden went in.

The door chimed as he entered, and the receptionist behind the desk welcomed him and sent him straight into the office. He thanked the man for holding the door open for him, and then greeted the female who designed his and Eleana’s home.

“Please, sit Lord Kaden.”

She was very gracious around him. Word of his relation to Denora and High Lord Helion spread quickly, and it wasn’t long before sentries and even people on the street were bowing to him. It had given him a level of respect he’d never had and wasn’t sure he’d earned.

She laid out the plans before him.

The house was a verifiable mansion, but they were only intending on building a small section of it to start with. Then Eleana could make whatever changes she wanted, and Kaden wouldn’t have to front such a cost straight away.

They talked it over making minimal tweaks.

She handed him the paperwork with the estimates and said she could start hiring labourers the moment he had the deed to the land and gained permission for her to work in the Night Court.

He opened up the envelope, assuring her visas wouldn’t be an issue when his face fell.

The estimate was far, far more than he was expecting, even with the mirror-glass.

He told her as such.

“With the war, mining has become a far more expensive endeavour. No one is willing to go underground, and the stone down there is necessary for this glass. Many people died, and there are few who can replace them.”

Just like that, his dream was over. Sure, he could get the land and let it sit there, but what was the point? It was to be their home, and he would never, could never, afford this.

He tried to hide his disappointment. He swallowed hard, hoping the silver lining his eyes might disappear with it.

Kaden hated that he was so mad and bitterly disappointed. There was a time when he was never let down because he never let himself have expectations. At some point he had become entitled – weak – and not let himself consider that he couldn’t do this.

But of course he couldn’t do this. He heard people call him Lord and he let himself think that he was one.

He thanked her for her time and effort and said he would come back to her in a few days after thinking about it. He had zero intention of taking up her offer to build this beautiful home. He simply could not. He did not have the money.

He left the office and Felix immediately knew something was wrong. Den frowned at him, having never seen him anything other than cheery.

“Are we good to go sign the deed?” he asked, voice low and slow.

“I’ve actually decided not to.”

Kaden kissed his mother on the cheek abruptly and told her goodbye, storming off into the crowd of Sun Courtiers enjoying the cooler evening.

He heard his mother yell him name – not Kaden, Dimitri – and when he didn’t respond she sent Felix after him.

He walked until he could feel his calves staining. He might have kept going, but Felix sprang in front of him and forced him to stop.

“What the hell happened?”

“I can’t afford the house. Not even close.”

“So? Buy just the land. Eleana certainly could afford it.”

“What a grand surprise that would be. Hello, Eleana! This is our home. Here’s the bill.”

Kaden tried to walk around him but was stopped again. Luckily, he had walked into a secluded alley where the shops were closed for the evening. There were few fae to eavesdrop, and Felix apparently felt no qualms about ripping into him.

“Stop it,” he snarled.

“I can’t control my damn emotions-”

“This isn’t the end of the world. We’ve been there, done that, and it’s old news. I can lend you the money,” Felix offered.

“I already owe you so much, I can’t let you do that.”

“It would be my pleasure, honestly.”

“But I would feel like I owe you a debt. It wouldn’t be what I had done for her, it would be what you had done for us. And I know it’s archaic and stupid to feel jealous that you can offer her that and I can’t but I just can’t help it.”

“You know, I am waiting for that jealous ball to drop.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m waiting for you to become a raging mate.”

“I would never.”

“It has nothing to do with you, it has to do with the magic behind the bond or whatever. It happens to everyone.” Felix peered at him, his finger tapping his glasses to push them back up the bridge of his nose. “What were you like after she cooked for you?”

“This is so far off topic, but she never cooked for me.”

Felix braced himself on the wall looking exasperated. “So you’re telling me that all this time you two have been wandering around without doing the mating rituals or any formal…?”

“There are rituals?”

Felix sighed. “I can’t blame you for your lack of knowledge, you grew up in a hole.”

“All I want to do right now is go home to Eleana. Maybe she can explain these supposed rituals to me.”

So, that was exactly what he did.

He found Eleana in her father’s study, doing paperwork for her mother so her parents could have a night to themselves. She noticed something was awry when she looked at him, and he told her he’d had a hard day of hunting. Her face fell ever so slightly, and she got up to embrace him.

They didn’t need their own land or home to be together. Just this, her in his arms, was more than enough for Kaden.

/////

The leaves of the Night Court were starting to turn an array of brown and orange, the slightest bit of wind making them fall from their perches and cover the paths in the city. Eleana looked out at the scene of her Velaris turning with the season. She loved the first month of Autumn. There were many things to celebrate, including baby Theodosia’s first birthday. Eleana idly wondered what she would get the babe; Kaden would let her pitch in for the inevitably wonderful idea he had, surely.

This month also marked their one-year anniversary. Not just from the day they had met, but the day that he proclaimed his love for her. It was one of the best days of her life and she would never forget the feeling of his words as they brushed her skin. She had waited for him, and by the Cauldron it was worth it.

The century without him had been a nightmare. And although the days since had been tumultuous, her health as rapid changing as the weather, he was a steady constant that kept her grounded. The time without him made him only dearer to her.

She was so distracted by her thoughts that Felix was able to land what would have been a deathblow if they hadn’t been only training.

“Eleana,” he snapped. “You haven’t trained for months. You’ll need to focus better than that.”

They were at the House of Wind. Her muscles were already sore form the gruelling exercises he had given her, but it was a welcome pain. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time – like herself. Soon, the muscle that once corded her arms and made her thighs thick would return, but until then she would have to work for it. Hard.

She was still puffed when she replied. “We’ve been at it for hours.”

“And you’ve been thinking about Kaden the whole time. You’re a sorry pair aren’t you, so dependant, it makes me literally never want a mate.”

“We aren’t dependent, I just worry when he hunts.”

Felix softened near imperceptibly. “He knows what he’s doing. Do you know how many High Lords have sent Rhys messages commending Kaden? Or should I say Lord Kaden. It’s doing spiffy things for your reputation too.”

“Is that so?” Eleana took Felix’s enthusiasm to speak as a sign they were done for the day.

“All these nobles frothing for your man is doing wonders.”

As if his name summoned him, Eleana spotted Kaden in the distance flying their way. She breathed a sigh of relief. He went hunting five days a week and because of the Courts ban on her she couldn’t go with him – even though she was in invaluable tool.

Kaden landed with a soft thud and sprinted to her side. He slammed into her, wrapping his arms around her and swinging her around as they hugged. It was an unexpected but very, very welcome on her part.

He stopped them long enough to kiss her, deep and unhinged, his excitement coming through.

“Hello.”

“Hello. What has you so cheery?”

He put her down but kept her close. He pulled a letter out of his back pocket and handed it to her. She opened it, her eyes reading the words but not really taking them in until she’d been over it a third, fourth time.

“This is an invitation for me?”

“Yes.”

“But this is in the Day Court.”

“Yes.”

“Where, despite my barging, I am not allowed to go.”

He kissed her again, his lips smooth. “You are now.”

Eleana cheered.

It wasn’t that she felt she didn’t deserve her punishment. She knew there had to be consequences for her actions, she didn’t even travel that much, but not going to the other Courts meant she was missing so much of Kaden’s life. She hadn’t even met his mother. The High Lords who she had once had a great deal of rapport with were now only learning of her condition through her mate.

It was also hard to know that people close to her heart had such a distrust for her – not that she could blame them.

She was elated to finally be able to visit another Court, and from the looks of it, Kaden was too.

“We start here, and soon all the Courts will welcome you again,” his words confirmed as much.

“Let’s get ready then.”

_____

The party was to celebrate the start of Autumn. It was at dusk, and Eleana came in a formfitting gold dress. It had thin straps and glided down her body like a second skin until it hit the floor and pooled in a train. She let her dark hair hang loose in waves and covered herself in gold jewels with red rubies.

She knew she made the right decision in clothing when she saw Kaden’s face when he first saw her.

His eyes glazed with lust, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

It had been a long time since he’d looked at her like that, and she was surprised that the sickening coil in her stomach didn’t rear its ugly head at the look.

They had kissed, plenty a time, but never taken even the smallest step further. She wasn’t there yet, and he understood her completely.

Looking at him in his fine suit made her wonder when she would be ready.

She winnowed them to the Day Court where they were given a personal welcome from Helion. It was a little awkward, especially with so many eyes on her as she appeared, but they made it through.

The gathering was in one of the royal halls, only a twenty-minute walk from the palace. Its columns were coated in gold, the perfect match to Eleana’s dress, but the interior was all white save the vertical gardens that covered every wall. There was a water feature that split the floor in two. Kaden, who had a tight grip on her hand, walked to the left and started introducing her to the people he had become acquainted with. Soldiers, Lords, Ladies, a line started to form to speak to Kaden.

He brushed them mostly off though and walked in a bee-line to the most important person Kaden would introduce her to tonight.

Denora looked radiant in a white, velvet dress. It had cap sleeves adorned with silver bands that stretched down her arms in a vine fashion. Eleana noted that it was a similar look to Kaden’s Illyrian tattoos, and wondered if that decision was purposeful. Her hair was up in a high bun and she wore a tiara fit for an immortal princess. She was thicker – a healthy stomach, wide hips, large thighs – and taller than even Kaden.

“Mother!” Kaden called.

She turned to look at him, and it was startling to see Kaden’s midnight eyes on someone else.

“Dimitri! And you.” Her eyes widened at the sight of Eleana. She stalked to them, her walk confident and unbridled as she cut through fae to reach them. She stopped a few steps away, towering over Eleana as if she was a giant speaking to a human child.

“Hello Lady Denora, it’s lovely to meet you.” Eleana offered her hand, but Denora ignored it.

“Girl gone blue without a trace, the golden boy is Cauldron blessed, to save the good and smite the rest.” Her voice was melodic, and Eleana wasn’t sure how to respond.

Luckily, Kaden did. “Is that a nursey rhyme? I swear I’ve heard it before.”

She looked at him pointedly – like she saw far more than just the two of them standing in front of her. “Yes.”

Kaden cleared his throat. “Mother, this is Eleana, Heir to the Night Court and my mate.”

Denora stepped so she was a breath away from Eleana. Her eyes were wide as she leant in so close that their noses bumped.

“Welcome to the family, you will do great things for this world,” she whispered before abruptly pulling back. “You two must dance!” She clapped high and sped away, leaving them in her wake.

“Are we meant to follow her?” Eleana was gobsmacked.

“I think so.”

They walked after her and found her on the dance floor. She was in the middle of a few pairs of people dancing, swaying to the music alone and to her own tune.

Her body moved like a calm sea. It was fluid and flexible – effortless but powerful. It was clear where Kaden got such innate talent from.

Eleana thought she might step this one out, not wanting to embarrass any one with her dismal attempts at dancing, but Kaden would have none of it.

I would rather be still forever than dance with anyone but you.

She blushed at the words he sent down the bond and lead the way onto the dance floor.

It was just like the first time.

She was not excellent, but he guided her in such a loving way that it did not matter. It was just as exhilarating, and breathtaking as the first time he held her close at that wedding and spun her for hours on end. Except this time there were no hidden feelings, no impending doom, just a man and a woman who loved each other very much and wanted to dance together.

The way he touched her hips as they danced set fire in her veins. When his fingers brushed her collar bones to sweep the hair from her face, he may as well have painted a cross on her to show that this is mine.

Any nerves she had from his touch were nothing but virginal butterflies. It had been so long since she’d been with him that she could remember that it was amazing, but not exactly how it felt to have him inside her, touching her, making her scream unholy things and praying to Gods that she didn’t believe in. She knew that in those moments hewas her God, and she was his, and that their coupling was the magic of myth.

The music, a fine orchestra, slowed down.

Kaden and Eleana swayed to the music. She didn’t step on his feet, and he rested his head on her shoulder.

People were watching.

It wasn’t until that moment that she realised her skin had started to radiate. Her darkness was also slipping from her hands that were around his neck and tangled in his hair.

And Kaden, her perfect equal, was spilling a golden light to match.

Either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care, because they just kept dancing.

_____

Eleana dress was sticking to her with sweat. They had danced for so long, keeping their magic at bay and ignoring the stares, that she’d become quite hot and bothered. She stepped outside for a moment to try and regain her thoughts and cool down.

There was no one here but her and the giant pool that glimmered in the moonlight. She sat down at its edge and yanked off her shoes, dipping her feet in the cool water. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting the air sooth her.

It wasn’t long before Kaden joined her.

“My mother likes you.”

“Does she?”

He nodded. He was standing, but only so he could roll up his pants and join her. “I just ran into her. She sang your praises.”

“I’m glad. Hopefully I can get to know her better if Helion gives me full access to the Day Court.”

He sat down so close to her that their shoulders were touching. She leaned into him. He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Have you enjoyed your night?”

“Thoroughly.”

His fingers were tracing patterns on her skin. He was doing it so idly she wondered if he didn’t realise he was doing it at all, but the movement sent shivers down her spine.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

She shook her head, not trusting her voice to remain steady if she spoke aloud.

He ran his hand up and down her side, thinking he might warm her. He certainly did, and her breathing became shaky.

She leaned into him more and turned her head. She kissed his jaw, then his neck, where her lips stayed and explored.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice gruff.

“I don’t know,” she whispered against his skin.

He faced her, his warm breath coating her face. His arm left her waist and settled high on her thigh, squeezing slightly. “What do you want to do?”

She didn’t answer.

What did she want? Not sex, no, but something. Not even to climax, just a sense of intimacy that can only be granted by your partner. Up until now, kissing had granted her that pleasure, but seeing him tonight and dancing with him like there was nothing else in the room made her ache for more.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

She felt how aroused the seven words made her in her core.

The hand on her thigh moved slightly, and that small action alone made her gasp.

“I will. Right here, but I need you to say you want this.”

Her answer was immediate.

“I want this.”

He kissed the skin just below her ear. His hand returned to her waist. He pulled her so that she was now sitting between his legs with her chest pressed to his back. His hands, those wickedhands of his, kneaded her shoulders. She was about to tell him that, yes, that felt good, but it wasn’t what she meant. Before she had the chance, his hands moved to grip her thighs, his fingers slowly etching her dress up until he had full access to her.

He bit her exposed shoulder lightly, not hard enough to leave a mark but so much that it made her lurch. His fingers grazed her inner thigh, up and down, until she was squirming on his lap.

One hand pressed against her lower abdomen to steady her, the other one slowly making its way to where she wanted it.

His lips were at her neck, kissing her in just the right spots to make her breathless. She was about to say something, but Cauldron she forgot what it was the moment his fingers slipped beneath her underwear and brushed against her sensitive centre.

She let out a deep moan. She laced her fingers with the hand on her stomach, needing to brace herself against something.

She spread her thighs more so that they crossed over his legs, and it prompted him to stoke harder, faster, in wonderful circles that with every round hit her in exactly the right spot to leave her quaking.

She was heaving in his arms and couldn’t help grinding down on him. She became even more aroused when she felt how hard he was for her, when she realised that the sound of her hissing his name and the feel of her body pressed against him was alone enough to make him want her.

She had to bite her lip to stop from screaming as she felt herself tightened and then come, his fingers working her all the way through her orgasm.

She slumped against him, and he pushed her dress back down before wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on hers.

/////

Nine months after her eighteenth birthday Eleana was sitting at a café in Velaris when a courier handed her a letter. It was addressed with only her name. She expected it to be from Kaden. Since she had come back to Velaris, she hadn’t felt like herself. And just like the last time she was lost with who she was, Kaden sent her letters to remind her. It was ridiculous really, they saw each other every night, but usually around two hours before he was to return to her she would get a letter. Sometimes it was just an I love youand more doodled hearts than she could count. Sometimes it was what he had done with his days. Often there were dot point summaries of the stories his mother had told him, he wrote them down so he wouldn’t forget any of the details, knowing Eleana would love to hear them all. Usually, these letters were written in the book he gave her for her birthday, the leather-bound object appearing where ever she was. A change of pace wasn’t unwelcomed though.

She closed the book she was reading and ripped it open.

It was a letter from the Day Court alright, but certainly not from Kaden.

“Holy shit Gods.”

If she hadn’t been banned from the other courts, she would have stormed into the Day Court and demanded answers. The first thing she would ask is is this a fucking joke?

She flew to her father’s office, barging in a throwing it at him.

“Is this real?” she asked.

“It says happy birthday, who’s it from?”

“The other page, look at the other page.”

He flipped over to the next page and raised his brow at what he saw. “This seems entirely real to me.”

She gawked at him, snatching it back and reading it over again herself.

Her father stood. He came and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the sitting chairs in the corner of the room. He mentioned something about food and tea and left her to read the pages over and over again. When he came back, she had it so close to her face that the paper was grazing her nose.

“If you’re that worried I would just confront the person who sent it. They clearly had a lot of intention. That,” he pointed at the paper, “is no quick process.”

Eleana moaned and put her head to her knees. “Do you have chocolate? I need it.”

Rhys laughed and knocked her head gently. “Eat your lunch, Butterfly. I’m sure you’ll get your answers soon enough.”

____

Kaden was late coming home, which meant that the whole family had to watch her pace back and forth waiting for him. Rain was thrashing against the windows, a wild storm raging outside.

She had shown them all the letter, all of which had validated its authenticity, which only made Eleana more confused.

And Kaden, her mate, had the audacity to be home late at a time like this.

When he finally strolled through the door with Felix and Quathryn, who wanted to see the pretty lights in the Day Court, Eleana tackled him. She ignored his wet clothing and barely felt his arms as they caught her.

“What is this?” she near screamed.

He swayed with her to catch his balance. “What is what?”

“This!” She waved the letter at him.

He snatched it from her hands and read it over, his eyes going wide and his mouth parting. “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.”

“Did you know about this?”

“No! I mean, I mentioned some stuff about you-”

“What did you mention?!”

Everyone was looking at them, curiosity all over their faces. This is why weekly family dinners were not a good idea, they were too often in each other’s pockets. Eleana grumbled, grabbing Kaden’s hand and pulling him upstairs.

She slammed the study door behind her, whirling to face him.

“What did you say that made your mother do this?”

Kaden looked sheepish, running his hand nervously through his hair. “I mentioned that my savings are low, and that I was looking for property in the Night Court that I could buy.”

“Why do you want to buy land?”

His lips were a thin line. He mumbled something she couldn’t properly hear, so she demanded the answer again.

“I wanted to build you a house,” he said after a long pause. “There are these beautiful houses in the Day Court that I know you’ll love. But when I asked about the price for materials… there’s a special glass that I would want for you, but it’s far out of my budget. I could work for two hundred years and not be able to afford it.”

Eleana blinked. “You… you wanted to build me a house?”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “There’s this type of glass in the Day Court that you can look out of but not in. On the outside, it’s a mirror. I talked to an architect, even had some rough plans drawn up, but the cost stopped me.”

She tried to say something, but he kept talking, nervously rambling.

“My logic was that if in our house you could always see the sky and the gardens I would grow for you then you would never feel trapped. I was going to make all the bedrooms the same, the only opaque walls would be inside so that we could have privacy, and our children could have privacy. We would have had a lot of guest rooms of course, Felix would need somewhere to stay every time he got on the piss. I would have built it on the beach. Or a cliff that overlooked the water but wasn’t too far away from it. Because then we wouldn’t have to go far to teach our sons and daughters to swim.”

“Woah, Kaden, stop. Our house? Children? How long have you been thinking about this?”

His cheeks blushed bright red. “I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I just mentioned to my mother, which is why she probably sent you the deed to her coastal house for your birthday. I mean, she’s quite late, but she’s often forgetful,” he tried to joke.

“Kaden, this is a coastal apartment on Miyram and Drakon’s island. The passing of ownership has been signed off by them. She would have had to do this-”

“Months ago, I know. I told her the day I met her that you were the love of my life. I didn’t mention that house until later. She must have given this to you not because my,” he waved his hand around, “house dream.”

Eleana was stumped. She had just received more information than she’d ever bargained for. She thought her next words carefully before saying them.

“Kaden… this is – a lot. Houses and children – that’s not something I’m even ready to think about. Not something I think I want now.”

He looked away from her, nodding. “Of course. That makes complete sense. We’ve been together barely a year. I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s flattering-”

“Yeah, really flattering.” He stared out the window behind her, a pink blush spreading over his cheeks. “Look, I’ll talk to Den about it, but she seems pretty stuck in her ways. We – youdon’t have to go there. I think maybe she felt bad about you not being able to travel Prythian or something. I’ll um, I’ll sort it out.”

He was rambling, and she couldn’t get a word in before he was opening the door and walking away.

“Wait, Kaden, stop.”

He was near running down the stairs, a few calls other than her own summoning him. He ignored them all. He rushed out the front door, rain whipping into the house from the storm raging outside. Eleana didn’t close the door as she rushed after him, grabbing his elbow just as he spread his wings to fly away.

“Where are you going?” she yelled through the onslaught of rain. Her hair was whipping around her face, the wet strands sticking to her.

Kaden wiped his eyes, his hair already slick down his face. “I’m going to fix this.”

“Fix what?”

He was breathing so hard she could see the rise and fall of his chest, and she reached out a hand to touch him – to steady him.

He was gasping for air. “Everything I’m doing is wrong.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, no you’re perfect-”

“What was I thinking? I can’t – this life – I don’t think I’m cut out for this. I can’t help you no matter how damn hard I try. And your family.” His voice cracked. “They trusted me, and I’ve screwed everything up. Felix will never regain full sight, I haven’t even made a dent in dwindling the creatures. I call a woman mother who can’t remember me half the time when Morrigan is right there supporting me. The disrespect I’ve given her. I can’t even properly judge what you want and I’m meant to be your mate. Amren was right – Amren isright.”

“Please come inside and talk to me. Or we can go somewhere, anywhere that you want to go.”

He covered his face with his hands, and then swept his hair from his eyes.

“I have to leave,” his voice was grave.

“Wherever you go I’ll be there right with you, okay? So name a place, anywhere, and we’ll go there right now.”

Hs throat bobbed. He searched her face, and she wasn’t sure if he was crying or if it was just the rain. “Can we just stay here?”

She pulled him into her arms, the rain beating down so hard she could feel every drop. He was warm though, he had always been her fire in the ice. “Yes, we can stay here.”

_____

It was a while before they came in. No one asked questions, not even when their sopping wet selves dragged their bodies through the house and to her bedroom. They peeled their clothes off, Eleana lighting the fireplace in her room to ease their shivering.

Once dry and dressed in fresh night clothes, Eleana and Kaden crawled into bed. Her bed had become a safe place of confession for them both, and with that knowledge clear in his mind, Kaden spoke.

“For the last few months, Amren has thought the worst of me. Maybe it wouldn’t have affected me as much if my failures didn’t have as much impact on our lives as they do. I want to be the best for you, and I’m worried that I never can be.”

“What has Amren said?”

“She thinks that I had something to do with what happened with the Queen. That I orchestrated what happened.”

Eleana shot up, outraged at what she was hearing. “How long has this been going on?”

“She told me the first time we met.”

Eleana climbed on top of Kaden, her legs straddling his waist and hands cupping his cheeks. “It was literally prophesised by an all knowing suriel that you were to be not just my, but Prythian’s saviour. I know you. Felix knows you. Mor and Azriel and Cassian and Nesta are all obsessed with you and my parents could not be happier that I found you. To say you are anything less than the man that you are, the selfless, wonderful man, is an insult to all our intelligences and I will not stand for it. In the morning I will talk to her. This has got to stop.”

Eleana opened her mouth, but a knock at the door interrupted her. She sighed as she climbed from his lap. Behind her door were her mother and Morrigan. Her mother held two plates of food, and Mor had two mugs held by the handle in each hand.

“Hey there,” Feyre said gently. “We didn’t want you two going hungry.”

“Thank you,” Eleana said, letting them in.

The two women, both mothers in their own right, strode into the room. Mor put the drinks on the bedside table, and whispered quietly to Kaden, asking if he was okay. The question was accompanied with a hand to his forehead; she was checking his temperature. One might think that meeting Den would drive Mor’s motherly instincts away, but Eleana was glad to see that it only intensified her need to care for him as if he was her own. It made Eleana smile.

“We thought we would join you, if that’s okay,” Feyre said.

“The more the merrier, we’re family after all.”

/////

Eleana would never say she was a bully, but she may have used some of those tactics to force her cousin into showing her the plot of land her mate had very nearly bought.

They waited until he went hunting before Felix flew them to the site. It was quick by air, but Eleana could appreciate that anyone without wings or the ability to winnow would have a harder time getting there.

The land was exactly how he described it to be. Large, his spacious mansion would have fit and then some, on a cliff but with a forest in the distance. It was untouched by buildings and had the best view of Velaris she had seen outside of the sky.

She walked along the grassy plain and breathed in the fresh air – her body feeling light from the scent of salt and greenery that came with the wind.

“There’s stairs over there that go down, but I’m not taking you. I shouldn’t have to begin with. I do hope you know he’ll murder me if he finds out I did this.”

“Guess I’ll just have to sell my soul again to bring you back.”

Felix squeaked at the joke and put a hand over his heart.

“Too soon?” She raised a brow.

“Yes, I mean no. I mean do whatever makes you feel better about what happened. Pre and post possession.”

She laughed at the look on his face and turned toward the stairs. She didn’t really like joking about it, but she noticed how often Felix joked about his own experiences and how it genuinely seemed to help. She thought maybe if she tried the same thing it would work for her.

So far, not much success, but she also wasn’t as funny as her cousin.

She walked down the steps. They would definitely have to be replaced if they lived here. Maybe a spiral staircase would suit?

She walked onto the sand. It was chilly next to the water; she wrapped her arms around herself and continued to explore. There wasn’t a lot to see. It was nice, tranquil and private. One’s own little slice of the sea.

She told Felix she just wanted to see it, but she knew she was here for different reasons.

_____

“I think I lied to you,” she told Kaden.

He looked up from the report he was writing. It was nearly dusk and he had been doing this since he’d returned from hunting. They were the only one occupying the House of Wind and the place was eerily quiet.

“What about?” He didn’t seem fazed by her words, but he did put his pen down and focus on her.

“I’ve been considering your words – your thoughts about our future.”

Eleana had been reconsidering their conversation since she’d ripped into Amren. She had cornered her aunt a week ago, demanding to know why she had been terrorising her mate. Amren had some convoluted excuse that had very little validity and reeked of misinformation and miseducation. Eleana never liked to pull rank, especially with her family, but she made a formal order that Amren was to never broach the subject again. Eleana heard her concerns loud and clear, and this was her officially dismissing them. She also went on to explain how Kaden could not have done the things she accused him of, even went as far as to detail the Room so Amren could fucking understand where she was coming from.

Amren had been civil since.

“What have you been considering?”

“I would rather show you than tell you.”

He smirked. “How ominous.”

______

Kaden very quickly changed tone when he realised where they were going. He thought Eleana might have meant doing something flirty, maybe they would repeat what happened in the Day Court, but the last thing he wanted was to go to the land he forfeited.

She took them to the tree line so they could overlook the whole thing. She winnowed them right there, if they had flown he would have refused just to save himself the embarrassment.

“Eleana…”

“Hear me out,” she said. She pointed to the cliff’s edge. “We would have to build a fence. High. And put extra wards on it so that it can’t be flown over by young children. I don’t want anyone falling down there by accident. Funnily enough, I’m more worried Felix will do that when drunk than one of our children.” She started walking, beckoning along.

He followed, confused as hell, so he just stayed silent and listened.

“I thought this side could be the main garden. We’d have one out the front too, and there would be a little cobblestone path that led to out front door with flower arches around it so it’s like a little tunnel. I think that would look cute!”

He put his hand up to stop her from talking more.

She looked distractingly radiant. She was backlit by Velaris, the city sparking alive as the sun set. She outshone it though, with her navy hair blowing in the breeze and her violet eyes so bright.

She was talking about something she had already thoroughly shut down, so why were they here? Kaden didn’t understand.

“You don’t want this, you said as much.”

She clutched her hands to her chest. “I know. I guess the idea wasn’t in my head until you put it there.”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying that I bought this land. I’m saying that I went to the Day Court and paid to have our home built from glass. I’m saying that I want to grow ancient with you here. I want to sit on a deck chair a century from now and have you dote on me hand and foot while I grow our baby inside me and that it might take time for me to be ready for children but hell I will be ready one day. I want everything with you, Kaden. The whole domestic shebang.”

She stepped in front of him. “I want to start living. And I want to do that with you.”

She stood on her toes and kissed him. She wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Kaden’s knees shook at her touch.

She moved her lips to his jaw, one hand coming across his neck and to the top button of his shirt. “And just because I know how much you wanted to do this for me, I only paid for the glass, so I hope you’re ready to build the rest of the house because sleeping on only that will be awfully cold in the coming months, don’t you think?” she said, her voice high and bubbly from what could only be described as pure joy.

“You are someone I couldn’t even have dreamt of.”

She pressed her cheek to his, her hands slowly undoing every button on his shirt until she could scrape her nails down his chest.

“I’m ready. I want all of you.”

“I have always been yours.”

“No, Kaden.” She punctuated her words by grazing her hand over his length. “I’m ready. I want all of you.”

He caught her hand in his, bringing it to rest over his heart. “Eleana, you don’t have to do this. If I was rushing you in any way-”

“You have been perfect – utterly perfect. It’s something I wanted to do since the Day Court, that was when I knew I could handle it.”

He bit his lip to hide his smile, even if she was grinning at him. “There’s no bed,” he said.

His heart stopped as she pressed an open-mouth kiss to his chest. She dragged her lips down the skin she had just exposed until she was kneeling before him. His breath hitched as her hands undid his belt. He stood to full attention, watching her with wide eyes and feeling his arousal build.

When she slipped her hand inside his pants to let his length free, he shuddered.

“When have we ever needed a bed?”

And then her mouth was on him and he was unable to form words.

She was slow, as if taking her time to relearn exactly what made him tick. Her plump lips would swallow him until he hit her throat, her hand stroking the part of him her mouth couldn’t. No part of him went untouched, and his moan was so loud as he tangled his hands in her hair that he was surprised the ground didn’t tremble beneath him.

He groaned her name when he was on the verge of finishing. She pulled back, taking her mouth and hands with her.

She stood up and leaned into him so close that the friction of him touching her was nearly enough to make him climax.

His hands were still tangled in her hair, and he brought her lips to his and kissed her deeply. As he did so, their tongues dancing as he tilted her back to fully capture her, one hand came down and then up again until the next thing he was doing was lifting her shirt over her head. She was bare under her shirt, and her nipples were perked in the cool breeze. He dragged his mouth away and sucked one into his mouth, kneading the other breast with his hand.

Her pants come off, and then his, and then somehow she got him on his back with her straddling him.

“I love it when you say my name like that,” she moaned as she kissed down his body.

After licking his rose tattoo on his inner thigh, her ass curving up as if teasing him to where he had once sunk his teeth in, she made her way back up his body, aligning her hips with his as she did so.

She was over him, gripping him so she could guide him inside her when he stopped her with strong hands gripping her hips.

“Wait. We should go slow, take our time. Savour this.”

Her lips turned up. She ran one hand down his chest before running it up the centre of herself, making her fingers wet with her want. She levelled her head with his, those sinful fingers tracing his lips until he bit them, sucking them into his mouth and licking the juices from them.

“I’m tired of going slow. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he growled.

She smirked and aligned their hips again. She didn’t wait before lowering herself onto him. They both gasped at the contact, and Kaden nearly came just from the look that crossed her face as she took him to the hilt. It was the face of ecstasy – her head tilting back, her back arched and her breasts pushed out, her mouth parted and eyes fluttering.

It had him straining when he was already so close.

When she moved her hips forward and back in a rocking motion, he was undone.

He unravelled underneath her, her body the only thing keeping him tied to this earth as wave after wave of unmeasurable pleasure blasted him. With every movement a new piece of him was gone. With every sound from her mouth he was brought back. He could barely see through the haze that she created for him.

The only clear thing was her glowing body and the darkness that started to mix with his light, the two opposing forces joining together and wrapping around them seamlessly.

He couldn’t quite remember how to form words, or where they were or his name or anything else except this:

He loved her.

So, that’s all he said. Over and over and over again.

/////

The day Eleana moved out of her home, her father cried. She found it comical, considering they hadn’t lived together for the vast majority of the last eight years.

While their house had only just begun to be built, Eleana and Kaden decided they wanted their own space. Kaden loved living with Azriel and Mor, and Eleana too with her parents, but they wanted to take a step forward before having their very own house.

So they did something that Kaden had always intended to do but never had the chance to.

They moved in with Felix.

It was the first time Eleana had returned to camp since the war had ended, and stories of her involvement had spread like shadowfire. She expected to be sneered at, blamed for the deaths of the soldiers who had been lost, but somehow that was not what happened.

The person she suspected for that was her meddlesome cousin.

They knew of her possession. They knew Kaden had been the one to break her free of her entrapment. They knew she misted a town full of creatures and knitted back together the earth as if it were child’s play.

And that is what they focused on.

They had been with Felix for a month now and it was going swimmingly. Felix made every meal, Kaden did all the dishes, and Eleana kept the house clean.

Eleana started training again. She got her ass thoroughly kicked and her flying courses weren’t as flawless as they once were, but with every day she improved. She welcomed the ache in her muscles, the baths of ice and having her wings out all day.

Her and Kaden were sitting on their bed, Kaden kneading the knots from her back. Spread out in front of her were the plans to their house.

“I think it’s a good idea to have our room separate from the others. If we have a drawing room we can double it as a nursery while the children are still young, and it’s not like we’ll have to use it that way any time soon,” Kaden suggested.

“I agree. A play room would also be a good way to contain their mess. And if Felix goes here, it will be easy for him to baby sit. I like this flooring too. I think carpet will be better than floorboards in the bed rooms. I know it wears away a lot quicker, but it will also be freezing in winter.”

“Do you remember those hardwood floors the other day? I was thinking we could copy that.”

The conversation continued on until Kaden was done with the massage and they were both completely sure on their design. This house would truly be something to behold when it was finished, and Eleana couldn’t wait to have it all with her mate.

She looked at him. They were both still in their leathers, his hair tousled while hers was in a tight bun.

It was true that she wouldn’t have thought of this on her own. It wasn’t until she discovered Kaden wanted those things that she considered them herself. Although wary to begin with, now she’d fallen down a deep rabbit hole where she wanted everything at once.

Which was why there was one thing she desperately wanted to do but didn’t know how.

“Walk with me?”

He smiled. “Where are we going?”

She didn’t respond, just took his hand and led him from the room. They put their shoes and jackets on and left, their fingers loosely twined. She was debating whether to just do it tonight or wait. But damn if they hadn’t waited long enough already. All they did was wait.

They strolled along, Kaden happy to concede with her silence.

She stopped them eventually, in the middle of a path. It was night, so few were around but many windows were lit from the fireplaces warming the families.

Kaden didn’t ask where they were, but he did look around and note her odd choice.

“Is this where we first met?”

She nodded. “I was wondering if you remembered the place.”

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course I do.”

Eleana argued with herself. She wanted to just do it, but the nerves she was feeling were overwhelming. It made her jittery, so much so that he fully faced her and took of his hands in his. He ran his thumbs over her knuckles.

“You all good?”

“I love you,” she gasped.

He smiled. “I love you.”

“We’ve never quite done things in order, have we?” She was going to do it. Now. Here. At the spot they met.

“No, I guess not.”

“I knew you were my mate the first time I saw you here,” her voice shook with every syllable. “But I fell in love with you long before it mattered. And you – you loveme. And you would, mateship or no. I like that that our bond came after. Every minute of falling in love with you I would want to repeat if I didn’t already fall more in love with you every day.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she snapped a finger up to place over his lips.

“Let me finish this while I still have the courage,” she laughed nervously. “We did things out of order. And that was good.” Eleana was never good at eloquent speeches, but he was hung on every word. “I want to do everything with you. I never thought I would have a mate, but I do. I never thought I would build a home with someone, but I am. I never thought I could love someone like this, but I do.”

She cut herself off, not knowing how to voice her thoughts. She could just send them through the bond, but she wanted to say it aloud. She wanted them to be real, tangible words that she could shout from the sky.

“I want to do everything with you,” she said again, but slower, more carefully. “I know you’re my mate, but I always wished that one day I would have a marriage as beautiful as the ones I saw growing up. I always wanted a husband who was as strong as me, as smart as me, who was either as passionate about what I loved or passionate about my adoration.”

Kaden’s face crinkled in a smile. She could see tears start to line his eyes as he clued on to what she was trying to ask. He grabbed the hand covering his mouth and kissed her palm before resting it to his face.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“I haven’t asked you anything yet.”

“Yes.”

She covered her face with her hand as she smiled with pure joy, her own tears matching his.

“Kaden?”

“Yes.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

He smashed his lips to hers, their tongues and teeth clashing as they tried to exude all their excitement and love in that moment in a kiss. He swept her off her feet, his hands going under her knees as he picked her up like she was already his bride. He held her close to his chest, his lips never leaving hers.

He broke from her, panting. “My front pocket,” he said breathlessly.

“Huh?” She kissed him again, her hands tangled in his hair as she tried to get as close to him as possible.

“My pocket,” he said to her lips.

He put her down and fished into his pocket. Upon grabbing something miniscule, he sunk to his knees.

“I’ve had these since the first time I went to our home. I’ve been planning to ask you to marry me since.” He pulled out two matching rings and Eleana couldn’t help the sob that broke her chest.

It had been a long time since she had shed these kind of unadulterated, happy tears. Her heart had never felt so full. It was like her whole body was starting to defrost after being in ice for a century. He was the flame that made her fae again, aliveagain, and she loved him.

She fell to her knees. With shaking hands, she took the larger band from him and slipped it onto his left hand. She then took hers and inspected it, a fresh wave of emotion hitting her as she did.

“They match our crowns,” her throat was so tight it was nothing but a whisper. She then put it onto his finger, where it would remain for the rest of their immortal lives.

/////

The day Kaden and Eleana had their mating and marriage ceremony the city of Velaris was painted in blue and gold. Banners for the couple flew throughout the city, mixing with the orange and yellows of the fallen leaves of Autumn. There was singing in the streets, so elated and loud that you could hear it all the way from the holy temple sitting just outside the city’s borders. A temple that was once wasted in a war against kings and now sat proud outside the Court of Dreams. Throngs of fae flocked to see the Lady and Lord wed, a true union of the Day and Night Courts. A Lady bred from darkness and born to reign. A Lord conceived on the night of Sprits who could see the ones this world had lost.

Regal fell short when describing the pair. Eleana with a dress of gold and navy and Kaden with a matching suit, they wore crowns unseen of and crafted so well that no fae hands could replicate such a beauty. Eleana smirked at her mate as if she had a secret, as if to say I knew there would be an occasion to make you wear that crown.

As the priestess tied their hands together with the delicate, red, symbolic ribbon while they recited their vows, there was nothing but pride and love in the room. As they spoke, their words echoed for all to hear. It made her stoic parents cry, it made his newfound father and two mothers glow, and it made their best friend place his hand on his chest to contain the utter euphoria he felt that the two he loved most were finally happy.

They recounted to all how they fell into each other, hard enough to shatter stars and to break through the night.

When they first met, and she knew he was going to be important. Their first dance, where she fell and he caught her. Their first stolen kiss on the sacred day of Starfall. The first I love you at a wedding that was not theirs. When they admitted their mutual love for each other at a lake. When he came to Velaris and found not just a city where his heart belonged but a family he belonged to. When she gave him her soul. When he claimed it for himself and gave it back to her.

In two years, they had lived a hundred year’s worth of life. They had fought for their love and happiness and against unattainable odds they had won.

And as the Lord and Lady looked at each other, the world stopped.

They were happy. They were in love. They were together. They were at peace.

***

This is the final chapter of ACOHAD, posted on the 29th of September, 2018. The first ever chapter was posted on the 29th September, 2016. This fanfiction spans roughly the same amount of time.

Happy anniversary ACOHAD, I'll miss you.

#acohad #feysand #i can't believe this is it #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #fanfic

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