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sherrybaby14 · 4 years

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Still Feel Alive

Request: Perhaps for Geralt, you could have the reader be effected by an Incubus. I have no idea of the lore of the games and how that would play into this, but I can totally see Geralt killing the Incubus and then finding it's victim. Now he's gonna help them before the Incubus' venom kills them? Supernatural Sex Pollen Hoo!

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: Smut, dubcon (Cause of the incubus effects), Sex pollen-ish

Words: 3k

A/N: I did not follow The Witcher Incubus lore. Instead, I just made my own.

The rush of the evening dwindled. Now all that was left were a handful of regulars. You glanced around the room, table after table needed busing. You tucked your rag into your apron and grabbed the tub.

“He’s making you clean tables now?” Landid stood up from his chair. “Who will serve us our drinks?”

“Pour your own.” You shook your head as you rounded the bar into the dining room. “And I sent the rest of the wait staff home for the evening. We were slow.”

“You trust me to serve myself?” Landid’s eyes went wide with awe.

“Come now.” You laughed. “You are my best customer. If you stole you would never be allowed back. I imagine you would rather face death than that fate.”

“Right you are.” Landid shrugged and took a sip.

You put your bin on the first table and gathered all the dirty dishes then moved on to the next until the bin was overflowing. A groan left your lips as you carried the thing with both arms.

“Let me get the door at least.” Landid jumped up and rounded the bar. He pushed open the swing doors to the kitchen.

“Thank you.” You smiled at the man, trying not to roll your eyes. You could have handled the doors yourself.

You let out another groan as you set down the bin on the counter.

“You know he is in love with you.” The chef and owner walked over to you. “Why not give the man the attention he desires? He would make a proper husband.”

“Aye.” You started to empty the dishes into the basin of soapy water. “It is I who would not make a proper wife.”

“Why is that?” Your boss helped wash the dishes. “Poor love-sick Landid isn’t the only one. I have watched mand after man approach you, and you rebuff every single one. Is it a woman you are after?”

The right person, male or female or witch or wizard or dragon or werewolf will catch my eye someday.” You smiled at him. “And I will disappear without a trace..”

“Ha! A werewolf?” Your boss shook his head. “Landid never stood a chance.”

“I can close up.” You wiped your hands. “If you want to knock off early.”

“Let me finish up the kitchen.” He pushed at you. “Once it is clean back here, I will take you up on your offer.”

The rest of the night would be boring. You doubted a new soul would even walk through the door. Just Landid and his pals until they drank their fill. An easy night.

You walked back out into the bar and your heart almost jumped in your throat. A new person at the counter.

“Did I frighten you my lady?” The man wore a smile on his face, and what a face it was.

Beautiful, with sharp features and shoulder-length black hair. Slicked back away from his face. Eyes so brown they were almost black, and skin smoother than you thought possible.

“What can I get for you, Sir?” You cleared your throat and approached the customer.

“Toussiant Red.” His head tilted as his eyes studied your face.

That was the most expensive alcohol you sold. A glance of the man up and down told you he could afford it.

“Do you have it?” His voice was smooth, it made your ear vibrate.

“Uh.” Your head felt a bit fuzzy, you shook it and you turned toward the alcohol. “Yes.”

You went for the cabinet below and reached into the back. It felt like there was a weight on you, a shadow coming down. You stood up and grabbed a glass. The strange presence almost surrounding you, sending a chill to your bones.

It wasn’t welcome. Your body and mind tried to fight off the force.

“Strong.” The stranger’s voice almost sounded like music.

“Excuse me?” You turned to face him, unsure if he was reading your mind.

“The wine.” He nodded to the bottle. “It is a strong varietal.”

“Yes.” You gave a nervous laugh, feeling silly. “Not a frequent purchase here.”

“What is frequent here?” His lips turned into a twisted smile.

You blinked, feeling the slam of the shadow again. Something was not right. Had the dinner soured your stomach? Was illness coming on? It was spreading fast, bearing down on you.

“Are you alright?” Landid asked from the other end. “Is this man bothering you?”

Your attention turned to Landid. The distraction was an error. Your attention was not on battling off the sickness and you gasped as it crept in. Horror flooded your veins, but then in a moment it vanished and a clarity spread over you. In fact, you felt good.

“No.” Your voice was confident as you turned back to the stranger. “He is not bothering me.”

So handsome. So beautiful, even with the offputting grin. He rose from his seat and walked to the end of the bar, signaling for you to do that same.

When you met you looked up at him, his eyes dancing as they looked down at yours.

“Would you like to get out of here?” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “With me?”

“Yes.” There was no other answer in the world as if ‘yes’ was the only one in existence.

“Come then.” He took your hand and wove your fingers together, kissing the top. “I have a horse waiting.”

“Hey!” Landid was following you. “Where are you going?”

You did not respond, because you did not care. The only this in the world that mattered was the stranger guiding you. Stranger was not the right word for him, no. He felt like home.

“Y/N.” Landid was outside. “What are you doing?”

“Here we are.” The man set you on a horse.

“Where are you taking her?” Landid yelled.

“I am no concern of yours.” You looked at Landid, the thoughts having no filter. “I do not and will never love you. Now fuck off.”

The words sounded cruel, nothing you would ever say to such a sweet man. But the voice was your own. Any misgivings vanished when your man swung his leg over the horse and secured his arm around your waist.

“You hear the lady.” He kicked the horse, turning away from the tavern. “Fuck off.”

With that, the animal took off and a smile spread on your face as you leaned into his chest, wanting nothing more than to melt into the stranger.

Geralt barely stepped inside when he knew this was the place with certainty.

“Irresponsible of her.” A man behind the bar was wiping it down. “We were just talking about running off. She said she would do it with the right person.”

“I am telling you. Something was wrong.” The younger man pleaded. “It was not her. Like he put some daze on her. They barely spoke and she runs off with him? Does that sound like her?”

“She is impulsive.” The elder man put his hands on the counter. “Looking for a first love.”

“Landid is correct.” A third man caught Geralt’s eye.

“Landid is a lovesick puppy.” The older one hadn’t noticed. “There are no magical monsters running off with women. She left with him willingly.”

“Then why is a Witcher standing here?” The third man pointed and all heads went to Geralt.

The color drained from the older man’s face.

“Witcher.” Landid stepped forward. “Please, a man enchanted my girlfriend. They went off on a horse. Headed north to the woods.”

“She is not your girlfriend.” Geralt turned to the exit. “And he was not a man.”

He noticed the tracks on the way in. The confirmation who they belonged to was the only information he was after.

“She will be soon.” Landid and the group followed him. “Let me help you. Assemble a search party.”

“You will slow me down.” Geralt turned his horse and climbed up.

“Will you bring her back safe?” The man looked up at him. “I love her.”

“If I can.” Something in Landid’s face struck sympathy.

“I know you feel no emotions, but my love for her. It is pure and strong and genuine.” Landid walked next to the horse.

Of course. Witchers felt no emotion. Hearing that made a fire of rage go off inside of him. The sympathy for Landid vanished.

“If she loved you, an Incubus’ power would not affect her.” Geralt grunted. “And if you loved her, you would have formed that search party when they left. Not thirty minutes later.”

Landid looked dumbstruck. Geralt kicked his horse and took off after the tracks. Being the only rider would give him an advantage. He hoped it was enough to close their distance and save the girl before the monster had his dinner.

This was not right. This was not you. Riding off into the forest with a beautiful stranger? Standing here, staring at nothing while he built a fire.

“There.” He set the pile of wood ablaze. “I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Are you going to kill me?” There was no inflection in your voice.

“Oh my, you are a strong one.” He shook his head and took your hands.

It felt like something was vibrating against your insides, seething back into your mind. You whimpered, wanting to force it out, trying your hardest to not let it seep deeper.

“Here.” A finger was on your chin.

You wanted to pull away but were frozen, lips were on yours. Soft, plump, inviting. A tongue flickered out and you parted your mouth, inviting the thing inside. Rich, coppery liquid flooded your mouth.

You squealed and tried to pull away, but his hand went to the back of your head. He continued to kiss you, You didn’t want to swallow but there was no keeping him out.

Soon the vibrations merged, the coppery taste turning sweet. He was a fantastic kisser, the best you had ever had. Your body relaxed and you lifted your arms, grabbing a hold of his shirts with your fists, coaxing him to kiss you harder.

“There.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “Much better now?”

You let out a moan and pressed your lips to his again.

“You’re going to taste delicious.” His hands went to your skirts. He kissed at your neck as you helped him take off your clothes, the fabric too hot and heavy for your skin. “It’s been some time since I had a fighter. Never one I had to use my blood on.”

You stepped out of your bottoms and then took your shirt off, undoing the undergarments, the fire growing between your legs hotter than the flames next to you.

“So smart and aware.” It felt like you were floating as he laid you down on the forest floor. “Quite the find.”

“Please.” You brought your hands between your bodies and began to tug at his pants. “I need you.”

“And you shall have me, darling.” He went to his belt. “I will devour you.”

You through your head back as tingles spread down your body.

“NO!” You cried out as you sat up, the pressure from his body vanishing.

You heard a large groan and saw him across the clearing, next to a tree. Your vision began to blur and you blinked several times, swearing you saw horns.

“Witcher!” The horned creature seethed.

“What?” You looked to the other person, white-haired.

“You interrupted my meal.” Everything started to turn.

A sword was swung, slicing through the air. You watched as best you could. It looked like an angel fighting a devil.

“Ahh!” A cramp in your stomach formed. Hard. Tight. Burn.

You brought your hands between your legs, trying to add pressure, give some relief, but your parts were numb. It felt like nothing was helping as you pulsed with want.

Tears stung your eyes as another wave of pain came, your pussy clamping down on nothing, so empty, so painful.

The fighting continued on in the background, but your blood grew hotter and hotter inside your veins. It was turning into fire. Only one thing would smother the flames.

The two figures continued to grunt and scream as they battled each other. You tried to reach out for them, form words, ask for help, but right now your body only had one function, making you hotter and hotter.

A shriek erupted through the air. You tried to open your eyes to see the victor, but they were blurry. Everything was blurry.

“Did you drink its blood?” Hands touched your body, giving you a brief relief. “Answer me.”

“Made me.” You were sat up and parted your lids, the white-haired victor holding your shoulders as he kneeled on the ground. “Please. Help me?”

“Fuck.” His hand touched your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Please.” You collapsed forward, forming a ball against his chest. “It hurts. I need.”

Your hands found his cock and you stroked it over his tight pants. You didn’t know how, but you were certain this would ease you. The dampness between your thighs agreed.

“You smell so.” He tightened and tried to back you away. “Fuck.”

“Please. I’ll do anything you like. Just please?” Your shoulder shook as you sobbed. “It hurts.”

He was hard. Eager for you as well. You squeezed around his form with one hand while the other went to his belt.

His hand came to yours about to push you away, but he paused. You lifted your face to look at him. Being close to the man brought back a fraction of your strength. He was gorgeous with yellow eyes and fair skin.

You were successful and his cock sprang free from his pants. So hard for you. You moaned in satisfaction, pinching your eyes shut in the process. A step closer to your goal.

Your lips found his chest and you kissed down his shirt, the fabric softer than you expected. Your hands hit the ground and you backed away, staying on your kees as your tongue pulled away from his body, running down the top of his cock.

When you reached the tip you swirled around it, relaxing your jaw and swallowing him. The precum on the tip making you moan when it hit your tongue. The taste intoxicating. Your body responded with another wave of need.

“Your smell.” His hands were on your shoulders and he pushed you off of him. “I need more than your mouth.”

With that his hands went to your hip as he pushed you back, falling on top of you and catching you both with his other palm.

Your back hit the dirt and you spread your legs as he slid his hand to his cock. You looked up to see him coat himself in your juices, before pressing against your entrance.

“Mmmm.” You moaned as he pushed inside.

The sight of his cock disappearing inside of you so erotic. It looked like he was never going to finish as if more and more of him kept coming, but once he was fully satiated you let your head fall back.

In a second his lips were on yours. You ran your hands through his hair as he rocked his hips, filling you with thick, hard thrusts.

Every bit of cramp and pain you’d been feeling were replaced with pleasure. The needs of your body being satisfied in every way possible. Your exposed nerves that had betrayed your body now rewarded it with ecstasy.

You started to roll against him, lifting your body in rhythm with his thrusts.

“It has never felt like this.” You broke the kiss as you panted.

“I know.” The man kissed your shoulder as his hand found your breast.

You whimpered as he kneaded your chest, massaging and tugging at you until you were a stiff peak underneath him.

Your hands found the top of his shirt and you began to tug. Needing to feel his skin on yours. Confirmation this was not a dream.

He responded by lifting his body and stripping the fabric away. Your eyes flared at the sight of him. Gigantic and muscular. A true prize.

When he came back down your chests smashed together and your lips met again. You both went into a frenzy, kissing and slamming into each other.

A swirl began to form in your center. Dragging every but of energy and being into a ball. It grew and grew with each thrust. You tried to keep up, to move your body steady with his, but you were growing weak and useless as the ball got tighter and tighter.

Your lover responded by taking over. He didn’t slow, in fact, the opposite, he went faster and faster, doing all of the work for the two of you.

Just when you thought your mind was going to join the rest of yourself in your core the ball lit on fire. An intense vibration went off as pleasure spread everywhere, your vision blackening as you convulsed underneath him.

“Fuck.” He ground down hard and joined you in the release.

Your body collapsed and your head lulled to the side. Sleep came instantly. You were never before this satisfied.

When you woke in the morning you shoulder was sore. You let out a little moan as you moved, a heavy arm covering your waist.

Images on legs, arms, riding, fucking came to mind and your eyes popped open. There was a chirp of birds and a long-dormant fire.

You sat up and looked down at Geralt, having taken a pause during one of your many times last night to at least learn the Witcher’s name. The corners of your lips started to smile.

His eyes opened as he looked up at you. The same realization dawned on him as he sat up.

“Good morning.” You touched his shoulder.

“Morning.” He looked uncomfortable. “Incubus blood has an effect.”

“I figured that out.” You smiled at his awkwardness. “Thank you, for helping me.”

“Ah, Uhm.” He bit his lip.

“The proper response is ‘you’re welcome’.” You pressed on his shoulder, rolling him to his back and straddling him in the process.

“What are you doing?” He lifted his neck as you kissed your way down his chest.

“Showing you that my mouth would’ve been enough.” You licked your lips as a fire grew in his yellow eyes.

You were grateful for him saving your life in more ways than one the last night. You had every intention of repaying him every chance you were given.

#The witcher #the witcher fanfic #fanfic #geralt x reader #the witcher x reader #fanfiction #geralt fanfic

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valhallasubstitute · 4 years

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In Times of Celebration...

Osferth x reader

Prompt #13 – ‘There was only one bed’

It’s not every day that the future King turns seven. Edward invites Uhtred and company to join the celebration in Wessex, but you and Osferth arrive later than expected. Due to your late arrival the ale house has only one room available…and that room only has one bed…

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT, unprotected sex – it’s the ninth century they have an excuse, you don’t. fluff

A/N: My first celebration request done! This is my first time writing Osferth, so I apologize if it’s a little OOC, like Sihtric, his lack of lines haunts me :/

Anyways I’m gonna write the requests in the order they were submitted in so if yours doesn’t pop up as quick as you expected then don’t stress cause you’re on the list and I love you all equally

WC: 2476 - this is ridiculously long, I wanted to set the scene and then got carried away whoops

Tags: @bebbanburgsflame - thank you my love for the request, @flowers-in-your-hayr

It was late when you arrived in Winchester, but the usually dark streets were filled with candlelight and laughter. The future king was turning seven the next day and evidently the best way to celebrate was to grab yourself a cup of ale in one hand and a pretty girl in the other.

Osferth’s hand was on your lower back as you weaved your way through the packed streets, guiding you gently as he smiled at the drunk passers-by, knowing all too well that the rest of your friends would be exactly the same.

The tavern was heaving with people and your good spirits were starting to dwindle. It had been a long ride; your horse was newly broken and while beautiful she was difficult and Uhtred had lost patience with both of your attitude’s. The others had ridden on while Osferth had stayed behind with you. You had ended up swapping horses and how well your horse behaved for the gentle monk had grated on you, but you couldn’t really blame her.

But you could blame Osferth for having the most uncomfortable saddle to ever grace Gods green earth. All you wanted to do was collapse on to the nearest bed and dream away the ache of the ride, but first you had to pay for the room.

The owner was a difficult man to find but his smile was wide and offered the room at half price. You began to protest but he insisted.

‘The healers assure me that my wife is to give birth tomorrow, praise Him. I believe it to be a good sign that he should share a birthday with the future king of Wessex – why should I not share my happiness with you?’

‘Do you hear that Y/N? Praise him indeed.’ Osferth’s smile was infectious, and you couldn’t help but share in his joy.

‘Thank you for your kindness.’

Your gratitude quickly faded as you walked into the room, it was modest, and the bed looked like heaven but there was only one filling the room. Turning to Osferth with a startled expression you expected him to turn on his heels, ready to ask for another room right along with you but he just shrugged and took your bag inside.

‘Osferth what are you doing?’

‘Unpacking?’

‘But- ‘

‘I know but we should be grateful we even got a room.’ He beckoned you, a reassuring smile on his face. You wanted nothing more than to rid him of the look. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share a bed with him, rather it was a problem that you did. And here he was, smiling at you like it was perfectly fine. Of course you had slept beside each other before, your furs being laid next to each other when you were on the road or napping by the river side by side when at home but you had never shared a bed with him, under the covers, layers of clothes removed… You fought quickly to hide the blush that threatened to out you.

‘I will sleep on the floor; you can have the bed.’

‘You cannot sleep on the floor Y/N.’

‘Then we should ask for another room- ‘

‘There are no other rooms.’ He was laughing at you quietly, his amusement was gentle and light, never pushing you too far. ‘And besides, I do not believe it was such a reach to think us together.’

You threw a pillow at him in an attempt to hide the deep red that was rapidly spreading across your body. He caught it with one hand, a light dusting of pink appearing on his own cheeks.

‘Are you going to help me unpack?’ you shook your head with a grin, settling back into the soft linen. Osferth rolled his eyes but quickly resumed the task at hand. With his back turned you took the opportunity to admire him.

You were surrounded by beautiful people constantly. Your Lord and the men that served him always made the scenery just that much prettier but there was something about the baby monk that had gripped you body and soul. Under all those robes and armour, you knew laid a warrior’s body. To assume otherwise would be a mistake, one you would not make twice.

It took him a while when you first met for him to look you in the eye but when he finally did you were lost in a soft world of blue. Combine that with a jawline that could cut sharper than your sword and you were all in from the very beginning.

And then he grew into himself. You watched along with the others as he stood a little taller, spoke a little louder, held your gaze for as long as you could manage. Boy to man, lamb to wolf, friend to fantasy.

You were so lost in the idea of him that you barely noticed him removing his armour in front of your very eyes until the leather hit the ground. You were transfixed as the layers of clothes were placed on a stool, and milky skin was revealed.

There were hardly any scars, save the large one on his abdomen. He was slighter than the others, but the muscle rippled as he moved regardless, his strength was as quiet as the rest of him but in its silence, it screamed the truth.

You watched as he leant down and undid the laces of his boots. His hands were a frequent visitor in your thoughts. They were calloused from hard work and a hard life, but they held your soup bowl when you were ill, despite the fact it burned him a little. They guided you through packed crowds, keeping you safe and in sight. And when his fingers brushed against your own it felt like God had put him on this earth to make you feel alive.

As he approached the bed, dressed in breeches alone, you found yourself flustered, your thighs clenching together on their own accord.

‘What- why are you undressed?’

‘I do not wish to sleep in my armour Y/N, we’re not on the road and we’re here to enjoy the celebration. If it offends you then I can re dress?’

‘No. I- You’re right.’ You nodded your head as you said it, convincing yourself that he was right and ignoring the pit in your stomach as you removed yourself from the bed.

You started with your boots, kicking them to the side of the room. You had none of the finesse that Osferth had, not when you could feel his eyes on you. Glancing at him every now and again as you removed your weapons you could see him watching you through thick lashes. He had more subtlety than other men, but the intention was the same.

The thought sent tiny sparks through your body, and the colour of his face brought you a little satisfaction. Despite your best efforts his eyes made you clumsy, the knot of your armour unyielding against your fumbling fingers.

You turned yourself away from him, a half-arsed attempt to hide the affect the situation was having on you. You didn’t even hear him coming up behind you and the feel of his hand covering yours made you jump. Your hand dropped to your side like a stone does when thrown into a river and Osferth’s breath fanned against the back of your neck.

His hands made quick work of what yours could not and before you knew it you were lifting your arms, letting the man behind you remove the armour completely. The two of you stood there, your back to his chest, heat radiating off each other and your breath coming out in quick puffs. You turned to him with downcast eyes.

The cross that sat on his chest snapped you out of the lust that coursed through your veins. God did you want this, but you pushed yourself away with a murmur of thanks. He was your friend and a man of God. And despite being a warrior of Uhtred’s your nerve evaporated.

The candles were blown out and your body stiffened as the bed dipped as Osferth climbed in. You could still feel him, his proximity making sleep impossible.

While your body lay perfectly still your mind tossed and turned – you had seen the desire in his eyes, felt his breath coming out quick and hot against you. He had made no move to push you and you had stepped back. But what if you hadn’t?

You rolled over, expecting to be greeted with his back but instead you were met by his face. He looked at peace, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Your intention was not to wake him, but the light tracing of his face stirred him, his hand moving in a flash and long fingers coming to grip your wrist.

‘I shouldn’t have pulled away…’ Your voice was barely a whisper, but his eyes were fixed on you. His grip eased on your wrist and his touch moved from your arm to your waist, squeezing gently.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room and the single thin layer of fabric that separated you from Osferth felt like entirely too much.

You sat up and Osferth followed, confusion evident on his sharp face.

‘Y/N what are you doing?’

Your hand gripped the bottom of your tunic and pulled it over your head before your courage was lost to the night. The air nipped at your skin, your nipples hardening with the ghost touch. Osferth’s eyes were everywhere, desire mixing with the confusion as you crawled towards him.

‘What I should have done.’

He reached for you tentatively, his hands cupping your face and bringing his lips to yours. They were soft and gentle, his tongue parting your lips in exploration.

The taste of him was intoxicating and you climbed into his lap in seek of some relief.

Your hands went from the slopes of his shoulders to the rim of his breeches. He tugged himself free and a blush spread from his chest up to the tops of his ears. The sight of him did not disappoint, his cock stood proud and was already leaking precum.

You had been with other men, but none quite had this effect on you, the want, the arousal, it was all him. The sight of him in such a state pulled a moan from your lips and another wave of wetness to pool between your thighs.

The rest of your clothes were removed, and you lay bare before the monk, your back arched as his hands slowly explored all there was to touch. His touch was feather light, leaving goose bumps in his wake. His lips followed his fingertips and as he tweaked one nipple, he took the other into his mouth, humming as you moaned.

He circled it with his tongue, letting his teeth graze it as he pulled away. Leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses he moved his attention to the other breast, his free hand slowly making its way south.

His name was pulled from your lips in a whine, the pressure of his thumb circling your clit exactly what you needed. His knuckles grazed against your entrance and you could feel him smile against your skin.

Needing to ground yourself there was no better anchor than his member, you could feel it sitting against your thigh. It felt like velvet to touch and the way his breath hitched made your body tingle with anticipation.

The way you held him left Osferth breathless, his own rhythm lost in the way you stroked him. You could feel it, still pumping him you guided him to your entrance.

Unable to censor yourself you gasped at his size. He lingered, teasing you with both his body and smile. His lips melted against yours as he entered you, hot breath fanning your face as gasps and moans filled the room.

Like everything else surrounding you, Osferth was gentle. His pace was steady and his thrusts deep, your fingers lacing together as you pulled him closer, your heels digging into his thighs.

While he used his free arm to prop himself up, you used yours to caress his face, pushing away the strands of blond hair that obscured your view of his pleasure.

You could feel yourself growing closer, relishing in the way he breathed your name as you clenched around him. Releasing your hand, he slipped his own between your bodies finding that sweet spot once more.

Your orgasm creeped up on you slowly, your back arching and your chest brushing against his as you called out, your cries of bliss mixing with the celebrations still raging on below.

Osferth’s own release came quickly after, a soft moan interrupting your panting, his brow creased and mouth silently begging to be kissed.

As you came down from your high Osferth pulled you to him, your limbs tangled as you faced each other, the smiles on your faces couldn’t be hidden, but neither of you had any desire to do so.

‘This may be forward Y/N-‘Your laugh interrupted him, your eyes wide and filled with amused exasperation as you gestured to your naked bodies.

‘I think we’re past forward, Osferth.’ His laugh was soft, and you watched as pink creeped into his complexion once more.

‘You are far more than a friend and I thank God for you, I do not wish to be without you.’

‘After tonight, you do not have to be.’

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The future king of Wessex was paraded through the hall, the priests that proceeded him unable to keep him in check but the atmosphere in the room was one of happiness and good humour.

If anyone were to look over at you, they would think you were overjoyed, the smile on your face rivaled that of the Queen. In reality your hand was slotted with Osferth’s, his thumb tracing circles over your knuckle.

You could feel Finan’s eyeing the two of you, but you could not find it in you to care. You watched as the Irishman lean into Uhtred ear, his voice just high enough to hear above the chanting.

‘I think it’ll be a marriage we’ll be celebrating next.’ You blushed as your Lords eyes fell to you, but Osferth seemed to beam at them, his hand squeezing yours. When he spoke, his voice was as happy as you had ever heard it.

‘I wouldn’t be surprised either Finan.’

You didn’t know what filled you with more excitement at that moment - the fact that he wanted to marry you or that you got to show him just how willing you were when you returned to your shared bed.

#the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #osferth #osferth x reader #osferth smut #osferth fluff #inga writes #100 followers celebration

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killiansprincss · 3 years

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We Found Wonderland

Summary: Trapped in the past after the S3 finale, Killian and Emma are forced to fade into the background as a newly married couple in a village while Rumplestilskin works on the portal to send them back to the future. (No Marian)

What challenges will they face, after all it’s only pretending to be married after all right?

Inspired by Taylor Swift ‘Wonderland’

Read on AO3

Huge thanks to @captain-emmajones for reading this over for me as I was going insane after editing it for weeks

Happy New Year to all! They say to start the year off as you mean to go on, and my goal for 2021 is to write more so I really hope you enjoy it!

Set just after the CS movie, no Marian.

We found Wonderland

You and I got lost in it

And we pretended it could last forever

________

Emma had realised on this trip that Storybrooke was her home. Not Boston or New York. Yes things were messy and dangerous in Storybrooke. But it was home. It was where her family was.

She had longed for a family for 28 years especially after the foster system failed her and after Neal abandoned her. But when the boy she gave up for adoption asked her to come home with her, it changed her life. Even if she didn’t believe in the curse at first, she knew it was a place she could eventually call home.

She wasn’t scared anymore. For once, she was excited about the future and what it would bring. And Hook.

This trip had shown a side to him she hadn’t seen before. She knew he had feelings for her, and as much as she tried to suppress her own feelings for him, he was different this trip. He wasn’t pining for her or making his usual stupid flirty jokes. It was clear he cared about her family, he wasn’t selfish.

Kissing Other Hook was an adventure. But seeing her Hook get jealous and punch the other him was even better. She could see in his eyes it was killing him that she was flirting with the other him, way more than she had with him. And she wasn’t going to deny that she enjoyed it.

“You alright love?” Hook's voice pulled her away from her thoughts.

She smiles at him as they walk into Rumple’s Castle, “Yeah. Just excited to get home.”

“Well dearie it’s gonna be awhile before you can do that.” Rumples voice cuts through as they walk into the great hall.

“What the bloody hell does that mean Crocodile?” Hook asks, anger in his voice.

Rumple just laughs, “well it’s not just a portal that I could do easily for you. Time travel has never been done before, except for you two. It’ll take me around a year to create that portal for you two.”

“IM SORRY-A YEAR?”

“A YEAR?”

Both Emma and Hook's voices respond to this sudden realisation.

“You’re telling me, it’s gonna be a year, until we can go home to the future?” Emma asks, hoping she heard wrong.

“Were you not listening?” Rumple asks.

“So we have to stay here for a year while you figure out the stupid portal?” Hook looks angry, like he could use the dagger on Rumple so quickly.

“W-what about preserving the future?” Emma asks, she can’t stay here for a year. She can’t.

“Well you’ve already messed up your parents timeline and they’re still on track. I have no use for you in my castle, so I’ll place you two under a glamour spell in a small little village where hopefully you’ll make little impact. After you’re gone, I can erase the minds of the villagers.” Rumple explains while Emma is still trying to wrap her head around staying here for a whole year.

“My parents just met and are on track to get married and have me. It’s around 2 years before I’m born and the curse strikes. The portal will be ready by then right?”

Rumple just rolls his eyes at Emma. “I’m not an idiot. I say it’ll be a year, it’ll be a year.”

“Then what the bloody hell do we do?” Hook slams his hand down on the table.

Rumple looks as though he could kill him, but he just laughs. “Well I considered keeping you here in my dungeon. But alas I already have my help. You two will be a newly married couple that just moved to this part of the land. You can work at the tavern or something, I don’t really care. I’ll be in touch when the portal is ready.”

“Married?” The two exclaim at the same time.

“Are you two having trouble hearing?” Rumple asks, rolling his eyes.

—————

After probably an hour quarrelling with the Dark One about their arrangement, they’re transported to a small village and a hut that they guess they would have to call home for the next year. It had one large room, with one bed in the corner, a fireplace and what seemed like a stove to the left of the door and a few chairs by the table. It was small alright, and she had no clue how they were going to last a year in this place.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Emma says as she looks around.

Rumple laughs, “I'll be in touch when your portal is ready.” And vanishes a second later.

The pair look around at their home. Seeing the one bed Killian quickly offers, “You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor or somewhere it’s fine.”

Emma shakes her head, “no way, you take the bed. I have slept in my car and much worse places before. You take it.”

Hook just laughs, “you really are a stubborn lass. Look, it’s big enough for the both of us. It’ll be fine as long as we stay on our respective sides, no use arguing. We’re going to be here a while, no use one of us being uncomfortable.”

Emma reluctantly agrees.

The first night is the hardest, knowing she won’t see her family, Henry, for a whole year was a lot to wrap her head around. She had really enjoyed this trip when she wasn’t scared for her life, she had seen her parents fall in love and it made her finally understand what that meant, to be born of true love, the true love they had just witnessed.

And Hook. Or rather Killian, she should get used to saying his real name. She couldn’t quite admit to herself that she was falling for him before this trip. It would be a lot simpler if they were going back to Storybrooke, she probably would��ve given him a chance, a date perhaps, and see where it ends up. But this wasn’t Storybrooke. It wasn't even her time. She couldn’t risk whatever they had, not when they had to rely on each other to get home.

The next morning, Emma wakes to find they hadn’t exactly stuck to their respective sides. Killian’s arm was around her waist and she had tucked her head into his chest. It looked very cosy, and to an outsider it would seem they were truly a happy couple. But they weren’t.

Killian luckily wakes around the same time and, noticing the situation they’ve found themselves in, removes his arm and the two don’t say anything about the situation.

Except it keeps happening.

Every. Single. Night.

____

The next few days were spent discussing what their story would be. They had decided that Killian had been discharged from the Royal Navy because of the accident where lost his hand, and they were used to travelling but now had to find somewhere to settle down as a newly married couple.

They found jobs, Emma as the barmaid in the local tavern, similar to the one where she flirted with Other Hook. Killian found a job working by the docks so that he was still close to the water, it was mainly cleaning and anchoring the boats, very different to his pirate days. But it allowed them to slip into the background, not being noticed by anybody and not making any drastic changes to the future.

“How was your day, love?” Killian asks as Emma comes through the door after a long day working in the bar.

Untying her corset, trying to get out of the horrible clothes she tells him,“Horrible. I hate it here.”

Killian looks up at his ‘wife’, “that bad?”

Emma sits down on the chair. “I had 3 separate men try to buy me a drink whilst I was working. I told them I was working, and that I was married and they still tried to touch me up.”

Killian chuckles, “I’m guessing they aren’t going to do that again.”

Emma smiles, “of course not. I hope they won’t be needing their fingers for a while. How was your day?”

“It wasn’t bad. Can’t say I don’t love being by the water but it’s not the same. Although Cassian said he and his wife want to invite us over for dinner one night this week. Said that he wants to see the wife I don’t talk about enough.” He explains, he knows how Emma feels about getting too close with the other villagers, but if they avoid them for too long it could end up much worse.

“You mean you don't talk about your incredible and very hot wife, all day every day? Why did I marry you?” Emma teases. Their relationship has been like this ever since they got stuck, flirting and teasing but never going any further. “I know we can’t avoid other people forever, it’ll only cause more suspicion, so I guess we can meet them for dinner this time.”

“If this dinner goes well, I will start to talk about my incredible wife some more.” Killian teases back, “about how she’s messy and violent and she snores loudly when she sleeps.”

This earns a laugh from Emma, but also a pillow thrown at his head as she changes out of her corset. She’s never complaining about fitting into jeans again.

~~~

A week passes, more shifts at the tavern and more sleazy drunk men who probably have wives and children at their homes.

Emma earns 10 silvers and 15 bronze a week, Killain, 1 gold 9 silver and 12 bronze a week, which Killian told her is decent money, it allows them to feed themselves with food bought from the market, and buy more clothes which are not comfortable in the slightest. She hates the corsets. Luckily. She only has to wear them at work, the clothes she wears outside of work, whilst ugly and plain, are much more comfortable.

Emma wonders if she’s ever seen any of these villagers in Storybrooke, maybe they’re teachers or shop workers. Did they currently have a horrible life, and even though they’re cursed for 28 years, does it get better for them once they’re in Storybrooke?

The day finally arrived that the two of them have to go to dinner with one of the guys Killian works with. And Emma is petrified, it was fine just the two of them going about their days and telling their story to those around, separately. But telling their story together, they’d never done this. Would they know something was up? Would they know they were lying?

Killian can tell she’s tense, so he takes her hand in his and brushes his thumb over hers over and over. He knows her, he can tell when she’s stressed and knows that this calms her.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he whispers to her as they approach their friends home.

“Killian! So good to see you!” A blonde man opens the door, Cassian, Emma assumes. “Welcome, please come on in.”

Killain smiles and takes Emma’s hand in his as they walk through the door.

“May I introduce my beautiful wife, Emma.” Killian says gesturing to Emma who holds out her hand to shake, assured by Killian this was still the proper greeting in the Enchanted Forest.

“Emma. You are as beautiful as Killian has described. May I introduce my wife, Maeve.” Cassian smiles gesturing to a heavily pregnant woman beside him.

“It’s so kind of you to invite us into your lovely home.” Emma smiles, trying to keep her cool composure.

——

The night is pretty simple, they go over the story of how long they’ve been here, Killians time in the Navy, mostly true stories of his actual time, just a fabricated truth to fit the time and their fake timeline. The food was pretty good for the Enchanted Forest, some type of meat, pork or beef maybe, with rice, beans and vegetables. It was okay, but Emma was really missing grilled cheese.

Cassian and Maeve are really lovely people. They discover Maeve normally works at the market, but picks up extra shifts at the Tavern that Emma works at to make extra money, but is taking time off due to her pregnancy. Emma wouldn’t call it Maternity Leave as she was pretty sure it wasn’t a thing in the Enchanted Forest. Maeve said she was convinced it was a boy, but Cassian was sure it was a girl.

“Have you two thought about children yet?” Maeve asks.

Emma almost spits out her water. “Um great question. Um.” She decides to tell a fabricated truth, make it more believable. “I had a son, when I was younger, before I met Killian. I lost him, and I don’t know if I will ever see him again.” Truthfully, she didn’t want to make up a lie about her and Killian, they were not married, they were not together.

“It's a cruel fate to fall pregnant when young and unmarried. I’m sorry to hear that. I wish you the best for the future.” Cassian tells her. She smiles, thanking that they didn’t ask any more questions on the subject.

But there was one story, one question that really fucked Emma up. It was asked by Maeve when she wanted to know more about their marriage.

“So how did you decide you wanted to marry Emma, Killian? I can tell you two married for love, did you plan a romantic proposal or was it a spur of the moment type thing? Cassian proposed to me with his mother’s ring, he took me to the market stall where we first met. I was selling grain and he kept coming back every day for more grain. After weeks of coming to the stall he admitted the truth. A few months later, he took me back to the spot we first met and said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. Of course I said yes!”

Emma looks over at Killian, hoping he has something to say. “You tell it so well Killian! He’s such a romantic my Killian!”

Killain looks at Emma and smiles. “So I lost my brother at sea years ago, and the only thing I have left of him is his ring. It’s kept me safe all these years, and when I met Emma I knew she was special. She didn’t like me very much at first, but I wore her down. She’s stubborn like my brother, so I knew I had to give her his ring. I took her down to the water, it’s not where we first met but it's where we both come when the world feels on top of us. Not much in my life has felt right since losing my brother, but Emma came into my life and she filled that void. So I took her to the water, got down on one knee and told her I couldn’t imagine my life without her. We don’t have much in terms of money, but we have each other and I think that’s enough.”

Was he serious right now? Emma thought he would maybe change up the story of how he wanted to marry Milah or something, but that was far too descriptive and emotional for it to be a lie or a fabrication. He had clearly thought about it, a little too much, Emma thinks.

Maeve was practically crying. “That is a beautiful story. You two are lucky to have found one another.”

She was going to murder him.

I’m sorry this is all that the Tumblr limit will let me post, check out part 2 here

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #writing #Emma swan #killian jones #my writing

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jacks-wylan · 3 years

Text

The townsfolk indeed call for another Witcher. For all Jaskier knows, the baker's wife put a contract in a notice board in the nearest town – Corvo Bianco is small, and it's a bit farther away from any main roads – and, surprisingly, someone has arrived.

It's the innkeeper, that Jaskier meets at the well as he goes to collect water, that says that to him. “It's a Witcher I've never met before,” he says, gruffly, while he weights up two buckets full of water, “He came here this morning, flashed a strange grin when he asked us to take his things, payed a room and went to hell, probably.”

Jaskier is almost afraid to ask, “What is he like?”

The Witcher is obviously not Geralt, because the innkeeper would have known him in that case. Jaskier is scared to hope anyway – he wants him to be Eskel, or Lambert. He needs a familiar face, someone he can talk about and understand his words. A shoulder he can cry on. A friend he can ask to keep an eye on Geralt, because he can't anymore.

“He's, uh, strange. Has scars, pale skin, two swords.”

“Like any Witcher.” Jaskier almost laughs. He can be anyone, really. He doesn't dare to hope.

“Dunno if he'll come back, but he has a room in my inn. You might meet him.”

Jaskier takes a deep breath, “I might.”

He does, that same evening. Jaskier doesn't even know why, after all, if the Witcher is Eskel or Lambert, they know where he lives – and if they already know about Geralt and his break up and they don't want to see him anymore, Jaskier surely doesn't want to impose his presence to someone who doesn't want it. He can be annoying, and most of the time he ignores when a person is annoyed by him, but he can take very well that kind of hint.

But curiosity's got the best of him, and won against the disappointment that is already stinging in his chest, while he walks, slowly, the small roads of Corvo Bianco. The past years, he has taken the same roads so many times that he's lost count, to reach the tavern down the village so he could perform for a, yes, a small crowd, but a very welcoming crowd. A crowd that Jaskier always adored, especially when they warmed up towards an amazed Geralt – still not used to the generosity, kindness and gentleness of this people.

He enters inside the inn and he's greeted by the innkeeper's wife. After a bit of small talks, she immediately points him a table in the center of the common room, where a man dressed of a light, leather armor is eating voraciously, not looking up as the innkeeper's wife tells him, “He's the Witcher!”, even though Jaskier is pretty sure that he's heard them very clearly.

Jaskier doesn't know what he was expecting. Not Geralt, but when his eyes lay on the Witcher's hair, he feels nonetheless a pang of disappointment when he notices that the colour is wrong, it's a too dark shade, not even close at the white strands Jaskier is so fond of. It's not even the brownish, gentle colour of Eskel's, and that is definitely not the chaotic head of Lambert. And he's never met Vesemir, but by the stories he heard, the Witcher is definitely not Geralt's mentor.

He blinks frenetically, but his eyes remain dry. He has half a mind to just turn around and forget about the unknown Witcher – right now, it's not strong enough to deal with the mess of another Witcher – but, the other half... the other half is curious. He wants to know who he is. He's been so lonely lately...

“I'll pay for what he eats.” he says then, to the woman in front of him, “Bring him another bowl of broth.”

“Want some, dear?”

Jaskier shakes his head, “I've already eaten, thank you.” he tells her, as he walks towards the Witcher that now is looking straight at him with a confused stare. He fidgets with a hem of his doublet, feeling a bit intimidated under the Witcher's unnerving eyes.

When Jaskier sits finally in front of him, he notices his medallion. The animal it represents is definitely not a wolf. “You're welcome.” he says, because he doesn't really know how to break the ice.

It works, somehow. The Witcher laughs, with a half seductive smile. “You must be the bard that lives here. There's this little girl that this morning talked my ear off about you, while showing me the way to the inn. She said you're funny and have a funny voice.”

Jaskier laughs. She must be the baker's daughter, the split image of her mother. “That must be me, yes.” The innkeeper's wife comes to them with two steaming bowls of broth, and ignores Jaskier splutters when one of the bowls is settled in front of him. She just looks at him, deadpanned, and makes a tactless remark about the weight he has lost lately, before turning back at her chores. “You're here for that child's parent's contract about a wolf.”

“That girl thinks it's a werewolf. And she's godsdamn right about that, at least.” the Witcher eyes at him through long, thick lashes. His eyes are of a strong yellow, they almost glow in the timid light of the torches. There is smudged kohl decorating his lids, it makes them bigger and more feline. They are like a black cat's. “She's wrong about you, you don't seem funny at all. You have no instruments with you, and I am not hearing a single song danced in miles. You're boring,” he grimaces, then, “And depressed. You're depressing me.”

Jaskier doesn't touch the broth, that's going cold under his nose. And really, as much as he's trying to be better, he can't deny those words. “Sorry for that. I... forgot my lute back at home.” he lies easily. His lute has remained untouched since Rinde, and now it's collecting dust inside his case under the bed. “My name is Jaskier, by the way. I was hoping–” what? What was he hoping to obtain? There is a Witcher in front of him and it's not from the Wolf's school. It's all a waste of time. “Nevermind. You're a Cat Witcher, and, I'll be honest, I haven't heard anything good about Cats. People say that you're cunning, and cruel. I, obviously, don't think it's true, because people say those things to all kind of Witcher, really,” he doesn't say that most of those things was Geralt that told him, “But I thank you for your services. If there's really a werewolf around here, it's... bad. It's a very bad... situation. Rarely we've had this kind of problem, here.”

“You know quite a lot 'bout Witchers, uh.” the Witcher pushes his empty bowl to the side, without lowering his gaze from Jaskier's face, “Name's Aiden. I'm a Cat Witcher, and I am usually cruel, if needed.”

Jaskier tries a smile, “Hopefully, we won't need it. I just wanted to tell you that here, you'll be... treated well. Not as a mutant, that is. They are used to Witchers, so no one will charge you more than needed for food and such, and they will pay you what is owed.”

The Witcher – Aiden – passes a hand against his lips, wiping the grease away with a swift move, “Good. I like when I'm payed fair and well. Now, this has been awkward enough so, if the master bard will permit it, I will head to bed. I spent all the day in the woods and found nothing, so if y'all are so cordial as you're saying, now I deserve a very good rest.” he says, standing up and stretching his long limbs. He's more lean and slender than the Witchers Jaskier knows, with less muscles and more agility, he guesses. I bet his cock is still smaller than Geralt's, Jaskier thinks, then, immediately after, he feels the urge to bang his head against the table.

Jaskier doesn't answer him, too occupied in try not to maim himself. But then, Aiden stop in his track and turns around enough to look at him again, contemplating something that Jaskier cannot read in his expression, “Now that I think 'bout it, I have another contract. Considering that I have to wait the next full moon to do anything with the werewolf, better get done with that too.”

Jaskier shrugs. It's not really his concern, after all. For a second, he has the impulse of telling him that, if only he needs it, he has some witchery potions back at his house. Just in case he hasn't enough supplies with him for both the contracts. After all, Geralt won't use them ever again. But, but something stops him to propose that: fuck, they're Geralt's, regardless of everything.

He won't give Geralt's things to anyone for any reason at all.

“The little girl hired me,” Aiden continues, with a grin. “She said that your house is haunted, because every night all the village hears wails coming from.”

Jaskier blinks, “That's... that's untrue.”

“She said that everyone is just ignoring that. Oh, it must be a very scared– correction, scaring creature living into your house.”

“There is no creature in my house! And no one wails in the night!” Jaskier snaps, incredulous. Whatever the fuck? “Well, I would know if there is something like that in my own house, I live there! There is nothing apart from me!”

Aiden raises an eyebrow.

Suddenly, hot shame creeps up Jaskier's chest, coloring his cheeks in an ugly red. “It's not me, Witcher.”

It's impossible. He doesn't cry since the day the townsfolk sent the pie to him. And during the night he, Gods, he just sleeps. He doesn't have nightmares, he has no reason to wail.

“Oh, I don't know. But worry not, bard, I am the monster hunter here, so I'll soon find out what lurks in your shadows, for very little compensation. See ya later, then!”

“Later?” Jaskier repeats, stunned. All he receives for an answer is the Witcher retreated back, and nothing else. He's totally been ignored, damn it. “Fucking hell.” he softly murmurs, even if all he wants to do is screaming for the terrible fate that has fallen upon his head.

He doesn't want another Witcher in his life. One – three, he lost them all – is enough, and he has already stomped on his poor, fragile heart, surely there's no need for another one to push his finger into the still fresh wound. Aiden will notices the evident presence – late presence – of a Witcher, from Geralt's old armors and weapons hanging on the wall, to the countless potions in the storage, and there will be questions, so many question that Jaskier still doesn't want to answer. And if he, indeed, is the one wailing during the night, he'll want to know the reason, and– and he doesn't want to explain himself. He feels so tired.

Dazed, he leaves a couple of coins on the table, next to the untouched, cold bowl of broth and gets out into the fresh evening air. He blinks while walking, not really acknowledging where he's going but pretty sure that his own feet are taking him home.

He thought he was feeling better. He thought that after a couple of months, he's made peace with what happened in Rinde, considering that it was no one's fault, considering that now Geralt is safer that he'll ever be with him, considering that all he wants is Geralt's happiness even if it's not with him. Sure, Jaskier's always been selfish, and he's always wanted everything despite it all, but– but he thought that with Geralt was different, that he was – is – more important than his foolish humanly desires.

And yet, Gods. And yet, here he is, sad and depressed, still waiting for Geralt to come home.

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

read the rest on ao3!

#okay this is almost 30k of a self indulgent nonsense #geraskier #geraskier fic #jaskier/aiden #jaskier/aiden/lambert #the witcher fic #mine:fyccina #the link is under the cut obv #lambden #aiden x lambert #lambert/aiden #jaskier x geralt #jaskier x aiden #lambden fic

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angry-trashcan · 3 years

Text

Under These Waves

Chapter One

3.5K WC

TW:Blood

“I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again Mr. Hagard, I cannot have you in here drinking until you don’t know a seagull from a rat’s ass. You need to leave. Your wife won’t be having it.” You stood in front of the man’s table, collecting a few of the empty meed mugs from his possession. “Now run along before I fetch the tab from last week too.”

“You won’t be doing shit, fetch one of the men from the back if you really want me gone. Nothing a tavern whore like you can do to me anyhow. Get me another drink.” You froze in your tracks at his words.

This was the third night this week he had come into the tavern. He was on his countless beer and couldn’t stand up straight, let alone get himself home.

The music was loud in the tavern, plenty of people chattering and dancing around. The thick scent of leather and sweat filled the room. Your waist pouch dangled under your thick skirt, making the room’s air feel even heavier than it already did. You sighed at the man, looking around the tavern.

“Mr. Hagard, I need you to leave. Now.” You made your way to the other side of the table where he was seated. “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“I already told you woman; I am not leaving this damn tavern! What part of that do you not understand!” He shouted, rising from his seat and coming to meet his gaze with yours.

“I suggest you retake your seat or leave, Mr. Hagard.” You stated ever calmly, shifting your weight so you were at eye level with the taller man.

“Or what, tavern whore?”

A glimmer of light reflected off the small dagger that you had pressed against the man’s neck as you placed more pressure onto it, “Would you like to turn that precious little wife of yours into a widow, Mr. Hagard?”

The man snarled, backing away. “I’ll be telling your father about this, y/n!”

You rolled your eyes at the threat, “What’s the worst he can do? I’ve already been promised.”

---

The sounds of the tavern were falling distant behind you as you walked, The night was hot, the breeze of the nearby ocean being the only thing keeping you slightly cool as you made your way home. Your nightly pay jingled lightly in your skirt pouch with every step. Your mind wandered as you walked, thinking about how your father had already set up your wedding date to the man from the Land of Wind. Far from the ocean you had grown up near. The date of your departure was approaching rapidly, only a few days’ time now. You knew that the man had money, plenty of it, you would live a comfortable life for the rest of your days. Bearing many children for the man to have as heirs until one day your time came. Though you had seen it time and time again, the woman is sold off to the highest bidder with no regard to her feelings on the matter and then she is shipped away to be a breeder for them.

Before you knew it you had made it home. Your thoughts were still floating about while you made your way inside the home.

“Y/n, could you come in here please?” You snapped out of the daze to walk into the main room to where your father was sitting.

“Yes, father?” You questioned, taking off your work apron and hanging it on a nearby hook.

“Mr. Hagard came by earlier, said you called him a rat’s ass and shoved a dagger in his throat?”

You fell silent for a moment, “Well, that is not exactly how I recall that encounter but-“

“You do understand that you are to be married soon. You cannot be running around playing pirate whore every chance you get. Where is this dagger?” He stood and extended his hand to you, waiting for the weapon.

“It’s mothers. Please, allow me to keep it. I will not use it in such a fashion again. I promise you this, father.” You bowed slightly to your father, to which he did not respond.

“I asked where it was, y/n. I will not be kept waiting.”

You did not rise to meet his gaze, instead just quietly answered his question, “my apron, father.”

He made his way to the wall where the apron hung and removed the small weapon.

“You and your mother both. Always trying to run to that damn sea, playing pirate. You know what pirates even do to women like you? They feed ‘em to the damn sharks.” He kept mumbling about pirates as he closed the door to his quarters behind him. You rose, wiping the few tears that had fallen from your face.

Rather fed to sharks than to an unloving husband.

---

You took the small candle and slowly opened the door to your father’s quarters. His fire had long burned out, only leaving a smoldering ember in the fire place to assist the candle in shimmering off of her mother’s dagger. He had left it lying on his desk in the open, almost asking for you to take it.

As you closed the door behind you, you heard him speak, “You really are her daughter.”

The light in the main room in front of the large mirror wasn’t much better. Holding your hair in one hand, you took the dagger in the other.

You thought back to his words, ‘they feed feed ‘em to the damn sharks.’

In one swift motion, you cut the hair you had been growing for years. The hair your father said your husband would want you to have. Without much time for thoughts or over consideration on the matter, you left the pile of hair on the ground. You picked up the bag of your father’s clothes that you had gathered, having already changed into a dark set. Tucking the remaining few stray hairs under your cap, you made your way to the door. You opened it, and for just a moment, stopped. You looked inside at the home your mother raised you in. You thought of your father, who was now being left by his daughter as well. You thought about staying. And then, you remembered the man from the Land of Wind. You remembered Mr. Hagard. And you remembered the sea.

You closed the door and made your way to the docks.

You hadn’t really thought this part out. Getting out of the house was the easy part. Getting on a ship seemed easy enough, though it was proving extremely difficult.

The docks were bustling with life, even in the middle of the night. Men yelling, carrying barrels around, drinking, hauling cargo onto ships and much more. You ducked down behind a large barrel, trying to think of a game plan. You noticed a group of three.

“I’m telling you! He couldn’t have gotten far from here! I’ll bet he isn’t even out of the bay yet! If we hurry we can-“

“Naruto, I’m telling you, there is no way to track him now. If he was on land sure, but he isn’t. He grabbed the first ship he saw and left. We have witnesses saying they saw a man with red eyes and the Uchiha crest board a ship that set sail an hour ago.”

“I understand that, Kakashi Sensei, but if we-“

“Oh stop it, Naruto. You are drawing more attention to us than is needed.” A pink hair woman in a large brim hat hit the back of his head.

“Sakura, aren’t you the reason we shouldn’t be drawing attention to us? You’re the woman here.” The blonde loud mouth spat back, rubbing his head where she hit him.

“You’re a little old school, aren’t you?”

The two continued to bicker while the third, who seemed older than the other two, seemed to ignore them. He motioned a random man over, to whom he talked to quietly for a moment before reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small silver plaque that held the Leaf Village emblem engraved into it.

“Are they ninja?” You whispered to yourself.

“They sure are, which means we really need to get out of here. Come on.” You almost screamed at the response from the random person behind you. You turned to see a man with white hair turning away from you. Glancing back at the three ninja, you noticed that the pink haired one was looking your way. You quickly grabbed your bag and hurried behind the mystery man.

The man motioned towards a large ship with black, red and white sails. Many men were hurriedly throwing things on deck and running onto the loading area.

“This your ship?”

“Yeah, yeah!” You forced your second yeah to come out deeper.

The man gave you a slight side glance but didn’t seem to pay much mind to it.

“Well hurry on board. She sets sail in three minutes.”

You gripped the bag tighter before throwing it over your shoulder. You thought about the pink haired ninja you saw. She’s a sailor, she hasn’t been thrown overboard yet. You should be just fine, you thought.

You walked up the large wooden ramp to the deck of the ship. Once you made it to the top you stepped down, looking around to the dozens of men who worked around you. Barrels rolled, ropes flew, crates were being traded from person to person.

You felt a large hand on your shoulder, “You gonna get to work son or am I gonna have to throw you off her before we even set her off to sea?” You looked up at the cause of the voice. A large man with an even larger hat stood next to you.

“Ay-aye captain.” You fumbled, falling into the assembly line of crates.

---

The familiar rocking of the ship came to a sudden halt. You slowly sat up in your hammock. The barracks under the deck were empty except for you, opting to slip away during the weekly round-up.

You had boarded the ship nearly seven months ago now. Keeping your cover as a new deck hand. It was back breaking work. Scrubbing the deck, manning the anchor, the sails, and anything else no one else wanted to do. She had only docked three times for supplies, and wasn’t planning to dock for another month. Which was why the sudden halt in the movement of the ship was unusual. Not even a single wave could be felt hitting against the side of the hull.

You slipped on your boots, being sure your growing hair was tucked back away under your cap securely before making your way to the hatch.

Stepping up the ladder you lifted the hatch above you just enough to pear out. It was dark out, but the lit lanterns illuminated the scene enough. Another crew had boarded your ship.

You watched as they placed a board between the two ships, allowing a few more people to board your own. The last of which being a man with long dark hair.

Your crew remained silent, lined up in front of the man. The crew of the other ship stood guard, watching along with you as the scene unfolded.

The man broke the silence, “Do any of you know who I am?”

Your crew remained silent, lone for one.

“You-you’re Sasuke of the Uchiha clan, aren’t you?!”

“Yes, I am Sasuke Uchiha. And those of you who don’t know me, be glad that you don’t. I do not plan on killing any of you, if you cooperate that is. Now, tell me where your captain’s quarter’s is.” A few men pointed the opposite direction from where you were, towards the set of double doors that lead into the captain’s private room. Sasuke nodded, turning that way. “You can come out, we won’t hurt you.” He stated, almost casually.

For a moment, you thought he was talking to the captain, until the door above you swung open. You fell back down the ladder, landing on your backside with a loud thud. You couldn’t make out any sounds of protest as two crew members picked you up and carried you outside. They dropped you down on the deck in line with the rest of your crew. Only then did you see the true extent of your situation. No waves crashed around your ship, nor the one the intruders came from. In fact, you couldn’t see the sea at all from your seat on the floor of the deck.

“Wha-whats going on?” You stuttered to whoever would listen.

“Some kind of high level ninjutstu. These pirates are all ninja. The ship… well, she’s floating on some kind of still water high above the sea below.” The captive man next to you panted out, clearly in disbelief at the situation as well.

“You be quiet ye hear? Before you’re shark food.” One of the nin bumped the back of a man next to you, causing him to fall silent and stare down.

The doors to the captain’s quarters opened as the darked haired man walked out. “Pathetic.” He mumbled as he threw a familiar hat to the ground, now stained in a red que. The captains hat. Your eyes widened. “Gentleman, today is your lucky day.” Sasuke began, retaking his place in front of the crew. Two of his nin emerged from the room, holding the captain’s now lifeless body, dragging it across the deck, leaving a trail of blood in it’s wake. “Today, you are now part of the most vicious fleet on the seas, known as The Taka. I, Sasuke Uchiha will be the new captain of this fine vessel. Fear not, for I have great plans. If anyone dares to cross our path with a hope to take us down, we will crush them. If anyone has any concerns regarding my leadership,” the two nin threw the captain’s body over the side of the ship, allowing it to fall the hundreds of feet into the water below, “well, you see how your dear ol’ captain turned out. Any questions?” It was silent for only a moment.

“Wh- why us?” You spoke up, not allowing your gaze to come off of the ground.

“Ah, good question. You see, I’ve been eyeing this ship for I’d say, about seven months. She’s a sturdy ship, I wouldn’t say it has anything to do with the crew. None of you are ninja. You’re all just warm bodies to me, nothing more, nothing less.” Sasuke responded, making his way over to you. He looked down at you, “You don’t seem to have manners, not looking your captain in the eye when he talks to you.” He bent down, grabbing your chin, pulling your head to look him in the eye. His eyes twisted into a bright red color, glowing against the dark night sky. “See, now that’s better.” He let go, standing up and turning his back to you, walking over to a handful of ninjas from his original ship.

Your head felt like it was spinning. Where have you heard the name Uchiha before? And red eyes? You looked up at his back, a large red and white emblem was embroidered across it. “We have witnesses saying they saw a man with red eyes and the Uchiha crest board a ship that set sail an hour ago.” Those three ninjas from the docks, they were looking for him?

“Men, we will be lowering her down and setting sail in five minutes, prepare the ship as if you were setting her off from dock.” A random ninja called out, prompting a varying degree of movement from the crew members.

The other ship fell from the sky first, free falling the hundreds of feet into the ocean below. When it did so, all of the crew members, including yourself, stared down the new captain with wide eyes as he stood at the helm. As the water began to break from its holding formation, the captain had only one thing to say.

“Welcome aboard the new Mangekyo, sailors.”

---

You looked at the man wide eyed. “No, you don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think I understand perfectly.” He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you up the ladder out of the barracks as you kicked and screamed.

“Let me go! You don’t understand!” Your free hand tore at the man’s grip to no avail. He drug you to the middle of the deck, causing many of the crew to gather around to see what the problem was.

“It seems like we have a problem, men! There was a pretty little lady here with us!” He pulled you up by your arm, allowing the shirt that you had half on to fall more, revealing more of your chest. You struggled again, pulling your shirt up to the best of your ability with your free arm. The gathered crowd started to yell incoherently, you looked around aggressively. This is it; they are going to feed me to the sharks. You thought back to your father’s words, panic pouring into your brain. The dagger, where’s the dagger? You pulled it out of your pant leg and attempted to swing it at the man’s hand, cutting his arm minimally.

“Dammit woman! I’ll bet you being on board is the reason the captain got killed too!” He released your arm for only a moment to grab your hair, grabbing the dagger out of your hand and putting it up to your throat. “You’re gonna be fish food when we’re done with you.”

“What is going on here?” The crowd fell silent and parted as the Uchiha’s heavy boots stepped through.

“There was a woman hiding aboard, captain! You know the laws of the seas! She has to be thrown off! I’d bet she’s the reason-“ The sailor got cut short.

“The reason what, mate? Hook catch your tongue?” Sasuke stepped towards you and your captor, “Could you think she’s the reason I took hold of this ship? Because I can promise you, it has nothing to do with a woman being on board.”

The man pulled on your hair tighter, pushing the dagger closer to your neck. “Either way, captain, she has to go overboard. She cannot stay here.”

Sasuke let out a slight tsk, “Why are you here?”

You realized his question was aimed at you. Why were you here? It all seemed so trivial now. You could be in a warm bed in a large fancy house right now. You could have all the food you could ever want, a husband, land, wealth, anything you wanted. And yet, this is where you were. Aboard a ship in the middle of lord knows where, a dagger to your neck, fighting for your life. Why wereyou here? Freedom.

“I was the captain’s daughter, sir. He brought me on board.” The words came out slow yet all at once due to the cold metal at your throat. A few gasps could be heard throughout the crowd.

“Release her.” Sasuke stated, not taking his eyes off of you. When the man did not, he repeated, “I said, release her.”

Upon his second order the man complied, throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. Your stolen weapon clanked against the wood next to you.

“What is your name?” Sasuke asked.

“Y/n.”

“Come with me. The rest of you, get back to your duties.” Sasuke turned back the way he came, making way in the crowd for you to follow. You rose from the deck, knees and arms bloodied from the force of you being thrown. You collected your dagger and stored it away where you pulled it from before following him. He led you to is quarters where you closed the door gently behind you.

“If what you say is true, then you will remain on board. I will be sure the crew brings you no harm.” He stated, taking a seat at a large desk at the far center of the room.

“You- you don’t believe me to be bad luck to have on board the ship?”

He tsked again, you were coming to find this as a habit of his. “No, that is rather old fashioned of the sailors to believe.” He looked down at his desk where a large map was laid out. “I do have a stipulation for you staying on board.”

You looked up at the man, who’s gaze had not left the map.

“And what is that, captain?”

“Tomorrow we will be docking. I wish for you to go find someone for me in the town. He goes by the name Suigetsu. He will not be an easy man to locate. If you don’t find him and bring him to the ship by dusk, I will set sail without you.” His gaze finally left the map, looking up at you. “And if you return to the ship without him in tow,” his eyes swirled into the dreaded red coloration. “Then I’m afraid that you’ll end up just like your dear old father.”

#naruto fan fiction #naruto fan fic #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #naruto #naruto shippuden #shippuden #pirate au #Under These Waves #chapter one #fan fic #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction

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maybeimamuppet · 3 years

Text

queen of hearts (part 1)

hi friends!! happy wednesday! did someone say royalty au?? no. but i wrote one anyone so here you are. this is my favorite thing i've written so far, but buckle up, it's a doozy.

trigger warnings for:

period-typical homophobia

mentioned child/domestic abuse

attempted r*pe/assault

graphic injury

and death!

if i missed any please let me know, that's entirely possible. also, if you're bothered by historical/medical inaccuracies, maybe skip this one. otherwise, please enjoy!

Once upon a time, there was a brave knight; who fought in many battles, vanquished terrible beasts, and could wield a sword like no other.

Her name was Janis.

Janis was an energetic child, bouncing off walls and ripping holes in dresses by the time she was two. By four, she had mastered the art of tree climbing, and by six she was a pro at arm wrestling.

Janis always knew she was different. She was never particularly interested in typically 'feminine' activities, and she felt a special distaste for boys. But girls, on the other hand. Girls were a different story.

When she was twelve, Janis worked for the George family, a rich family of noble blood, with rumored connections to the royal family. They had a daughter just a few months older than Janis herself, named Regina. Janis was a servant, but the two quickly became friends. And then, more than friends.

But it was too good to last. Regina's father caught the two girls holding hands one day, and gave Janis a lashing so severe she saw stars. He forbade Janis from ever seeing his daughter again, and marched her home by the ear.

Janis' parents were of a similar mindset. They gave her a single loaf of bread, and allowed her to keep the clothes on her back. With a final hug from her baby sister, Janis was disowned, never to see her family again.

She slept in a barn for a week, huddled up with a sheep for warmth. The farmer discovered her after a while and made her leave, but his wife took pity and gave her a hot dinner first.

For nearly a year, Janis slept outside the door to a tavern. She joined an underground fighting ring for money, and would occasionally make bets to earn more. As she continued, she realized she wasn't eating enough to maintain her strength.

So, Janis took up pickpocketing too. In less than a month, she had mastered the craft. She could steal the wallets of the strange men who passed her without a second glance on their way in to the tavern, take their money, and put the wallet back with the men none the wiser.

Until Ron Duvall came along. Janis could tell by his clothing that he had some sort of connection to the royal family. He must have a lot of money. She managed to steal the wallet and the money without him noticing, but she fumbled putting it back. He drew his sword and whirled around, threatening to slice her arms off at the elbow for daring to steal from him.

But upon turning, he came face to face with a young, severely malnourished girl, in tattered clothes several sizes too small and with wide, terrified eyes. He could tell by the way she was clutching the money that she was truly desperate for it. Something in his heart told him to help.

From that day, Janis had a new home. As it turned out, Ron Duvall was the captain of the royal guard. He had the highest position, and was the most trusted soldier in the ranks. Janis joined them, training alongside the other soldiers and living in the barracks.

She finally had clothes that fit, plenty of food, a warm bed. She met a boy named Damian after a month or so, a seamster around her age who worked in the castle. They became instant best friends, inseparable except to attend to their duties. Janis had a family, and didn't plan to let go.

—————

Janis is hacking at a straw man, poking holes in his torso and lopping little bits off. Out of her peripheral she spies Damian barreling towards her, which is slightly concerning.

"Janis! Janjan! Jan!" Damian calls as Janis slices the head off her dummy and sheathes her sword. She turns towards him as she wipes the sweat from her face.

"What's the matter? I never thought I'd see you run voluntarily," Janis comments.

"I take offense to that," Damian pants. "But the King and Queen have asked for you."

Janis whirls around from the trough of water she's scrubbing her face from. "Who wants me?"

"The King. And the Queen."

"That can't be good," Janis mumbles, color draining from her face. "What do they want with me?"

"They didn't say," Damian huffs, still trying to get his breath back. "But it can't be too bad or they would've sent a guard instead of someone like me."

Janis dunks her whole head in the tank quickly, pulling back out and walking briskly to her barrack. "Come on then."

Damian follows after her quickly, sitting on her bunk as she pulls her daily uniform from the trunk at her footboard.

"I will never understand why they put so many fucking buckles on this thing," Janis grumbles as she fastens on her blue and gold uniform jacket. She grabs a cloth from her trunk as well, scrubbing at her face harshly. "Can you plait my hair for me?"

Damian pulls her damp hair back, braiding it quickly down her back and tying it with a leather cord as she tugs on her boots and sheath again. "There."

"Thanks. I'll tell you what they say later, wish me luck. Love you," Janis says hastily, kissing his cheek and running towards the palace.

"Good luck, love you too," Damian calls after her.

The guards at the main gate snap to attention as Janis barrels up the high steps towards them, but relax slightly upon seeing that she's in the same uniform as them.

She stops just in front of them, panting slightly. "I have been requested by the King and Queen."

"What is your name, soldier?" One of them asks.

"Sarkisian, Janis."

"Come with me."

She follows after him, looking around in awe at the elaborate decor around her. She bumps into him outside the door to the throne room and earns herself a disapproving glare. He enters and announces her, so she puffs up her chest and follows him in.

The royals don't react, so she goes to the respectful distance and kneels before them. "Your Majesties."

"Stand, soldier," The Queen says. Janis does. "You are Sarkisian?"

"I am, Your Majesty," Janis replies politely, bowing her head respectfully.

"Duvall informs me you're his best fighter," The King says. "Is this true?"

"Um, I like to think so, Your Majesty. I have trained for years in both swordsmanship and archery," Janis responds. "But many of my fellow soldiers are likely as skilled as I."

"How old are you, soldier?" The Queen asks.

"Seventeen, Your Majesty," Janis says politely.

The King raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You are young to be so skilled."

"I am aware, Your Majesty. However, I have been training since I was thirteen. I fought in the war against Kingdom Sherwood when I was fifteen," Janis responds. "I am confident in my skills."

"And your family?" the Queen asks. Janis looks down.

"I was disowned at age twelve, Your Majesty," she murmurs, just loudly enough for them to hear. "I have not seen any of them since."

"Why?" the Queen asks suspiciously.

"Several reasons," Janis replies. She knows she can't reveal the true one. "But mainly due to the fact that they were poor. They could not afford to house both me and my younger sister."

The King gives her a sympathetic glance, but Janis can't read the Queen.

"Please excuse us for a moment, soldier," the King says kindly. Janis bows, walking out of earshot and looking around in awe. There's several portraits decorating the walls, of the King and Queen, eventually with the Princess making an appearance. She grows older in every portrait, from a fiery haired infant to an impish looking child, to an elegant and refined looking young lady.

She can overhear bits and pieces of the conversation between the royals. "She's her age." "But she's a girl." "I'd feel better having a girl perform this task anyway."

Eventually, she's called back, bowing again.

"We have a position for you. Our daughter needs a personal guard, we think you would be best suited for the task," the King says.

Janis is stunned. "Me? I- Forgive me, Your Majesties, I'm-I'm honored, but... would you not rather have someone with more training guard the Princess?"

The Queen looks at the King meaningfully, as if agreeing with her, but the King shakes his head. "We trust Lord Duvall's judgement. If he recommends you, we trust him. It also helps you are close in age to Princess Cadence, and a female."

Janis thinks. "Thank you, Your Majesties, I'm honored, truly. I shall protect the Princess with my life."

The Queen looks slightly relieved at this. "You are dismissed, soldier. Guard, take this young lady to the Princess' quarters."

"Right away, Your Majesty."

Janis bows once more as she takes her leave, hustling after the large guard towards the Princess' wing of the palace. Eventually they reach one of the tallest doors Janis has ever seen, and the guard knocks politely on it.

A soft, melodic voice rings out from inside, sounding rather melancholy to Janis. "Come in."

The guard opens the door, gesturing for Janis to enter and following after her. A small figure is sat by the massive window, looking out over the gardens of the palace. She turns, and Janis has to withhold a gasp. Very few of the people outside the palace have ever actually seen the Princess, but she's absolutely beautiful.

Long auburn curls hang down her back to her waist, and she has gorgeous crystal blue doe eyes. Freckles are spattered all over her pale skin like stars in the night sky. She's in a long dress, pale blue in color with a skirt that brushes the floor.

"He-oh," the Princess stutters. "Hello. Forgive me, I... wasn't expecting a lady. Is this who they've chosen?"

"Yes, your Highness. Knight Sarkisian," the other guard says.

"Hm. Thank you, Mike, you may go now," the Princess says, looking Janis up and down. He bows politely and takes his leave. "What is your name?"

"Um, Janis Sarkisian, Your Highness. At your service," Janis replies, bowing awkwardly.

"Oh, god, please don't. It seems we'll be spending a fair bit of time together, there's no need for all the formalities," the Princess replies. "I detest them, anyway. Call me Cady."

"Yes, Your-uhm, Cady," Janis stutters as she rises back up. Cady chuckles.

"Have you been in the palace before, Janis?" Cady asks, opening the door and leading her down the hall.

"I have not, Y-Cady," Janis says. "It's magnificent."

"I'm glad you think so," Cady says with just a touch of sadness. "Tell me about yourself."

"I don't think there's really much to tell. I'm seventeen, was born in the slums. My family was poor, I started working as a house servant in the nicer part of town when I was six to support my family," Janis replies. Cady turns to look at her with wide eyes, as if she's hearing the most interesting, surprising thing she's ever heard.

"You began work when you were six years old?" She asks in shock.

Janis nods. "I didn't have a choice, it was either work or starve. I'm far from unique in that regard."

Cady looks at her sadly. "My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt you. Please continue. If you wish to."

"Please don't apologize, Cady. Um, I continued work for several families until I was twelve. I was disowned, I slept in a barn until I was discovered and then started living outside a tavern. I competed in street fights for money for food, and sometimes pickpocketed if I didn't make enough in a day. I tried to steal from Ron, and nearly lost my hands for it," Janis chuckles. "But, he took pity on me and took me in. Taught me everything I know about the sword and bow. I rose quickly through the ranks, fought in the war. And now I'm here."

Cady freezes outside the door to their apparent destination, trying to take in everything she's just been told. "My goodness. The war was only finished two years ago, you couldn't have been more than-"

"Fifteen," Janis replies.

"Fifteen," Cady repeats hollowly. "You could've died, so young. And you lived on the streets for... how long?"

"A year or so, I didn't keep track exactly," Janis says. "Had other things on my mind."

Cady hums sadly. "Have you heard from your family at all?"

"Not since I was forced to leave, no," Janis replies. "But I've found people here that I consider closer family than they ever were."

"I'm glad for that," Cady says. "My apologies, if I'm prying. I just find the lives of others fascinating." She finally opens the doors they're in front of, revealing the massive gardens of the palace. "Walk with me, won't you?"

"Of course. Would you tell me about yourself, now? I feel I should know you, if I am to protect you," Janis replies. She's slightly on edge now that they're outside, but there are guards nearly everywhere and they're still walled in. She just needs a little extra caution.

"I'm not sure you'd find my life so interesting. It sounds so terribly dull in comparison to yours," Cady says, holding onto her arm with her right hand and holding her skirts with her left. "But very well. I am seventeen as well. I was born here, raised here. I am the only child, only heir to the throne. I've been stuck in classes on everything from medicine to diplomacy from the time I could speak."

Janis is slightly envious, but hides it and gestures for her to continue.

"I've almost never set foot outside the castle walls. Once a season we take the carriage through the villages, and every once in a while I sneak out to the stables. I've always loved animals," Cady says with a sigh. Janis gets the sense immediately that Cady is not as fortunate as she had thought. She seems... stuck, trapped. How sad.

"How do you sneak past all the guards?" Janis asks. "You must be like a spy."

Cady chuckles, coming to sit on the edge of a fountain. "The guards all let me go, and agree not to tell my parents so long as I have at least two of them to protect me on my way down. I'm not really sneaking around anyone but my parents."

"They don't let you go see the horses freely? How dangerous could that be?" Janis asks as she sits next to her.

"I've never done anything freely. I've always wished to see the town up close, or go through the woods, or walk down to speak to the soldiers training," Cady sighs. "But it's not safe. I'm the only heir, if something happens to me the whole kingdom of Evanston falls. I'll likely be kept in here the rest of my days."

"That sounds a rather miserable existence. I'm sorry," Janis says.

"Do not apologize, Janis, it's not as if you have any part in my entrapment here. And your life has been... much harder," Cady replies.

"That doesn't mean your life hasn't been hard too," Janis says. "They don't cancel out."

Cady looks at her thoughtfully. "I suppose not. You speak very eloquently for a guard, were you educated somewhere?"

Janis chuckles. "Not anywhere near what you're thinking. I had to learn to read and write for my job as a child, and I learned to add and subtract to make sure I had enough money. When I joined the guardhood I was trained in royal etiquette on the off chance I was ever required to serve inside the palace. That's about the extent of it."

"Oh. Well, lucky that you were trained then," Cady jokes weakly, but Janis still laughs. "Do you have any hobbies or interests? I don't know how much free time you have as a royal guard."

"Not much, I'll admit. I spend most of my time working on my fighting, keeping my strength up, things like that," Janis replies. "But I actually like art quite a bit. One of the ladies I worked for was kinder than the rest, an artist. She taught me a few things about painting and such, I always enjoyed that."

"That's lovely," Cady says, as if relieved Janis has something she can enjoy. "I never was much good at art. Do you have any works? I'd love to see them."

"I haven't been able to get much in the way of materials, but I have a tendency to doodle," Janis says. "I- wait, will I be moving into the palace?"

Cady giggles. "If you want this position, yes. You'll be living in the guards quarters outside my bedroom from now on."

"Oh. Then I suppose you'll see some little things I've done eventually," Janis replies. If Cady wanted into her own bedroom, she would have to pass through Janis' from now on. "What about you? Any interests I should know about?"

"Not really," Cady hums thoughtfully. "I always enjoyed my mathematics classes more than the others, and I love animals. I enjoy being outside more than anything, I do most of my work on the balconies and I walk outside at least once a day."

"I've never enjoyed being indoors either," Janis responds. "Mathematics, though, really? I never liked numbers."

"Yes, I never quite understood why. Numbers always just... made sense. Very little else does," Cady says, looking off into the distance. "Anyway. I suppose you want to know why I suddenly need a personal guard?"

Janis hadn't thought of that. The King and Queen obviously had personal guards, and there were many others stationed around the castle for their protection, but the Princess has never had one assigned just to her before. "Yes, I...yes."

Cady sighs heavily. "I come of age this winter, in February. I am to be married, but obviously have not had an opportunity to find a husband. My parents have decided to throw a festival and invite Princes from the neighboring kingdoms to come and compete for my hand in marriage."

"You don't sound pleased about this," Janis says. "Do you not wish to marry?"

"Not yet, and not like this," Cady replies. "But I must. Ten men are coming in January, just after the new year. I'll be married to one a week after my birthday."

"That's... awful," Janis says. "You're younger than I, you shouldn't be forced into a marriage yet if you don't wish to."

"It's how it must be done. To meet a husband on my own I would have to leave the palace, leave the kingdom, and talk with people outside. Since I can't do that, we must bring people from the outside, in. And hope for the best."

"So... my job is to keep you safe from a potential husband? What-why would they bring these men here if there's a chance they would do you harm?" Janis asks. None of this makes sense, so far.

Cady just sighs. "In theory, nothing should happen. These men are all royalty; trained in diplomacy and etiquette. They should all be perfect gentleman, and I'll take my pick. But there is always a chance one won't be. I've tried telling my parents we shouldn't do it this way. When I marry, I wish it to be for love. But they insist. The kingdom needs a royal family. I have to continue it, and soon."

"I'm sorry. I hope my position here won't be necessary, but I will protect you with my life if need be. And I hope you can find love with one of the suitors," Janis says. She suddenly feels lucky, not being born royal. She's had so much freedom that she took for granted.

"Thank you. I... I hope your position won't be needed either, but I'm glad to have met you," Cady says. "You've been through so much more in the same time as me. You have every right to hate me and yet you've been... kind. So far."

"I think I'll continue. You have been through things that commoners like me don't think about. You didn't ask to be born into your position, I don't hold your birth against you," Janis replies. "You have every right to treat me like a servant, but you have also been kind."

"Your job is to keep me alive, I think it's in my best interest to be kind," Cady jokes. "But thank you. I... I don't think I've ever had a friend before. I hope I can consider you to be one."

"Of course, Cady. I see no reason we shouldn't be," Janis says. "Being your friend sounds nice."

"I'm glad."

————-

Janis' birthday rolls around a few months later. Damian surprises her with a pastry he had snuck from the kitchens in the morning.

"Happy birthday, Janjan!" He whispers excitedly, since the Princess is still asleep.

"Thanks, D," she chuckles groggily, sitting up in her cot.

"You're welcome. I have to go, I can't be late for work or I'll be punished again, but I'll see you later," Damian says as he leaves. "I love you!"

"Love you too," Janis says as she nibbles at the pastry.

Cady enters a few minutes later, as Janis is getting dressed with her breakfast waiting on her pillow. Cady's braiding her hair over her shoulder as she heads down to breakfast with her family.

"Good morning, Janis," she says. "Did your friend bring you another pastry?" She points to her pillow as she finishes tying a ribbon around the end of her hair.

"Good morning, Cady. Yeah, um... today is my birthday," Janis explains. "He snuck me a special breakfast."

"It's your birthday? Why didn't you tell me?!" Cady asks as she comes to hug her tightly. Janis tenses slightly, they're not really supposed to be this intimate with the royals, but returns the affections after a second. "I have to get you a gift."

"No, Your-Cady. That's why I didn't tell anybody. It's just another day for me, I don't want a big deal made of it," Janis explains.

"Aww. Today should be special; you come of age today," Cady pouts. "And I've never had a friend's birthday to celebrate. Can I please get you a present?"

"I feel I came of age a long time ago, Princess. I suppose you can get me a gift, if you must," Janis begrudgingly allows. "Just nothing extravagant or expensive."

"Yay!" Cady squeals. "Oh, I'm late. I'll see you later, Janis! We'll do something special then. Happy birthday!"

"Okay, um. Thanks," Janis blinks. She had not expected Cady to be so excited.

She dons her uniform and heads down to her own breakfast with the rest of the guards. She sneaks a few extra apples, deciding to go see her horse, Pancakes.

On the way, she runs into Cady talking with a servant about something. The servant bows respectfully and heads for the main doors of the palace.

"Oh, Janis! Hi," Cady calls, making her way over to her. Janis is fascinated by the way Cady moves, every motion is somehow elegant. "Where are you going?"

"Um, the stables. Figured I'd take my horse around a little bit," Janis replies, trying to hide her sneaky fruit.

"I already saw them, Janis, you don't need to hide," Cady chuckles. "May I go with you?"

"Um... sure," Janis replies. "Follow me."

Cady does, running after Janis as she holds up her skirts. One of the guards at the main door gives the signal, and another pops around the corner to follow after them.

Janis holds the door for her when they reach the stables, heading to the stall in the far corner.

Cady smiles when she sees Janis' horse, taking one of the apples from Janis as a friendship offering. "This is yours? What's his name?"

"Pancakes," Janis mumbles sheepishly. "Don't laugh!"

"I'm sorry, that's just... really cute, I didn't expect it," Cady giggles, stroking his nose as he accepts the apple from her hand. "He's beautiful."

"Thanks. Trained him myself," Janis says. "Yeah, hi, stupid. Here's some breakfast."

"You trained him yourself? Wow," Cady says. "He's very docile."

"He's just lazy," Janis replies. "Do you-um... want to come? On the ride? I'm not leaving the grounds, if that other guard follows you'll be safe. And I have my sword and bow if anything should happen, god forbid."

Cady is nearly vibrating with excitement, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet before she throws herself at Janis. Maybe not every move is quite so elegant.

"Yes! Thank you! I've never-wait, I've never ridden a horse before. Is it scary?" Cady realizes suddenly.

"It might take a little getting used to. But if you get scared I'll just take you back," Janis replies, saddling Pancakes and kicking over a stool so Cady can clamber up. "After you, Princess."

"Thank you, my lady," Cady giggles, taking Janis' offered hand and wiggling her way onto the horse. "Wow, he really is calm. Sorry boy."

Her gown doesn't stretch enough to ride normally, so Cady rides side-saddle as Janis sits astride the horse behind her.

"Ready?" Janis asks before she starts him moving. Cady nods excitedly. Janis sets Pancakes off to a trot. Cady gives a frightened squeak and clings tightly to Janis, but once she gets used to the motion of it she starts laughing happily.

Janis holds Cady around the waist with one arm and the reins in her other hand, gradually picking up speed as they ride around the yard in a loop. Cady really seems to enjoy it, so Janis keeps going a little longer than she had planned before she rides them back to the enclosure.

She hops down and holds out a hand to help Cady off, removing everything from the horse and letting him wander to the trough for some water.

"Oh, Janis, that was wonderful. Thank you," Cady says happily, hugging her tightly. "I have a lesson now, but I'll meet you for tea once I finish. Hopefully Gretchen will be back with your gift by then." She shoots Janis a wink and turns back, running back to the castle.

"Fuck, this can't be happening again," Janis grumbles once Cady leaves, resting her forehead against the fence in exasperation. "I can't afford to fall in love with another girl."

Janis takes over for her substitute outside of Cady's study, where she's currently in a lesson on diplomacy and etiquette with foreign dignitaries.

Once the clock chimes the hour Cady comes rushing out, before she clocks Janis grinning at her and turns back around.

"Janis! Hi," She breathes. "I wasn't expecting you to be here. You could've taken the day off, you know."

"I have nothing else to be doing, Cady," Janis says.

"You could have spent the day with... oh, what is his name?" Cady huffs, pressing a hand to her forehead as she tries to remember.

"Damian, Princess?"

"Yes! You really must introduce me to him someday soon, I do much better with names when I have a face to match it to," Cady replies. "Couldn't you spend the day with him?"

"He has work to finish, but he promised to find me before dinner today. I may go with him then and get someone to cover my duties for a while, if I am excused," Janis says. "But I know he would love to make your acquaintance once he has the time to."

"I could have excused him from his duties for the day as well if you wished, Janis," Cady says gently. "I would like to dine with you alone, but I can give you a pass afterwards to spend the rest of the day with him, if you like?"

Janis thinks for a second. "That would be great, thank you, Cady."

"Of course. Come along now, I want to give you your gift," Cady says excitedly, grabbing Janis' hand and rushing through the corridors towards her bedroom.

"Are you not eating in the dining hall today, Princess?" Janis asks as she runs after her, still holding her hand.

"I want to give you your surprise first, Jay," Cady says. "But no. Let's eat in the gardens, today, it's lovely outside."

"Jay?" Janis asks. A nickname? She calls Cady 'Princess' as a cute joke, since Cady hates it. She hadn't expected Cady to return the favor.

"Oh, um... do you-do you not like it? I thought it was sweet," Cady says shyly. "I won't call you that if you don't like it."

"No! No, I like it, Princess. I just didn't expect it, is all," Janis says hastily.

"Oh! Okay then, Jay," Cady says with relief as she finally comes to a stop outside of the door. She peeks in first, squealing at whatever surprise she has prepared. "Close your eyes." She comes to cover Janis' eyes, guiding her into the guard's quarters. "Ready?"

Janis nods, so Cady removes her hands. Janis gasps happily at what she sees. Cady bought a very nice oil paint set, complete with several brushes of different sizes and shapes, canvases, and even an easel.

"You-you-this is for me?" Janis asks, trying not to cry.

"Of course. It's all yours," Cady says with a wide smile. "Go on, look closer."

"Thank you," Janis breathes as she runs a finger over the end of a brush. "This is... incredible, truly. I love it."

"I'm glad," Cady says. "But you have to paint me something with it. I don't mind what, but I want one of your paintings."

"Absolutely," Janis says, smiling as Cady wraps her in a hug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Happy birthday. Now come on, join me for tea," Cady insists, grabbing her hand again.

"Yes, Princess."

————-

The holiday season comes and goes, followed by the New Year. Exactly a week later, Janis is standing beside Cady on a high balcony, watching ten ships make their way into the harbor.

The town below is bustling with activity, banners in the kingdom's colors decorate every lamp and wall as the villagers rush around in their cloaks to prepare. Cady looks at them with a sort of longing, leaning casually against the rail.

Eventually she gives a sigh, turning to go inside. "I have to be in the throne room to greet everyone, we should go."

Janis removes her own cloak and takes Cady's, hanging them to dry on a rack just inside the door before following her down. She's in her dress uniform for the special occasion, which somehow has even more buckles than her usual one. She had nearly missed breakfast trying to get it on.

Cady plops on her throne with a huff, sitting in a very unladylike slouch while they're alone. "Keep an eye on each one, and then you can tell me what you think of them once we're alone again tonight."

"Yes, Princess. Are you alright?" Janis asks, standing at attention next to her.

"Yes, everything's fine. I just am really not looking forward to this."

"I understand, Cady, but I'm here to protect you," Janis replies. "I'm sure they'll be perfectly kind gentlemen."

"Hmph. They'd better be," Cady huffs. She straightens and Janis kneels when her parents enter, both snapping to their proper positions.

Janis is bid to stand once the royals are all seated, looking very proper and with a hand on her sword sheath in case someone tries something on Cady.

She tries not to jump when some very loud horns blow, announcing the arrival of the first Prince. He's handsome, announcing his name as Jason. Janis doesn't like him but doesn't clock him as a threat.

As it turns out, Janis doesn't like any of the Princes. She can't tell if it's because her instincts are telling her they're dangerous or because she doesn't want anyone else to be with her Princess, but she's on her top form the whole time.

She feels a special distaste for the tenth Prince, Shane. He carries himself with a haughty air, coming to kiss Cady's hand with an arrogant smirk. Janis has to physically hold back a groan of disbelief.

Once introductions are held, the Princes are escorted to the courtyard and into carriages for a short tour of the local villages. Cady and her family eat dinner during the parade, and then Cady has the evening off as the King and Queen give a speech to the commonwealth in the plaza from the main balcony.

"So what did you think of them?" Cady asks as she brushes her hair out for the day. Janis technically isn't supposed to enter her room unless it's an emergency, but Cady usually asks for her company before they go to sleep.

"They were... fine, I suppose," Janis answers, trying to hide her true opinions. Speaking about royalty so freely is improper.

"You can be honest with me, Jay. Nobody else is here," Cady replies knowingly, looking at her in the mirror.

"Fine. They were all mediocre at best and I don't trust the last one." Janis says rapidly, making Cady laugh.

"Shane? What was the matter with him?" Cady asks. "I didn't like him, either, but he seemed fine."

"The way he carried himself, like he owned the whole place. He thinks he's elite," Janis replies. "He looked at you like a possession, not a person. That's not something that changes. He would own you, if you married him."

Cady looks slightly startled at that. "You gathered all that from, what, three minutes?"

"I learned how to read people very well, helps me perceive threats in a fight," Janis replies casually. "But really, if I'm allowed any input into your decision. Don't pick him. He's who I'm supposed to be protecting you from."

"Okay, I won't pick him, don't worry. Um... what did you think of me, when we met?" Cady asks gently, turning around in her seat.

Alarm bells go off in Janis' head, she can't reveal too much or risk being tossed away again. "Um... I thought you were very beautiful, and that you were almost too kind to be the Princess. And that there was a sort of sadness or longing to you beneath the surface."

Cady just blinks at her. "Wow. Well, thank you, for saying I'm beautiful and kind, I suppose."

"Cady, I meant no offense by-" Janis bursts out, worried she'd still managed to screw it up.

"I know, Jay, it's fine. I'm not offended. You're not wrong, I do have a sense of longing. But I'm sure you learned why, once we had a conversation," Cady replies. "Anyway. What about the rest of the Princes? I quite liked the third, Aaron?"

Janis tries to remember the rest of the men. "He was handsome, and I don't think he's a threat. But he didn't strike me as really wanting to be here, either."

Cady comes to sit on her bed, patting the spot next to her for Janis to join her. "I should keep you around more, if you're this good at assessing people. If he doesn't want to be here I suppose I shouldn't pick him."

"It's your choice, Princess. If you like him and can form a connection with him, then I'm sure he'll enjoy being here eventually. Who wouldn't? You're great company," Janis says.

"Thank you," Cady says softly. "You're good company too. Certainly much easier to talk to than these men will be."

"You'll do fine, Cady," Janis comforts. "I'm sure of it."

Cady looks at her strangely, as if realizing something, but doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Thank you, Jay. I'm glad I have you to speak with."

"Um, you're welcome, Cady," Janis says nervously. "Uh, goodnight!"

Cady looks confused, and almost sad that she has to go. "Goodnight, Janis. Sleep well."

—————-

There's only three rules that Cady has to follow for the festival. Number one, all ten Princes must stay for a minimum of a week. Number two, she must consider them all, no matter how much she wishes the festival wasn't happening in the first place. She has to spend a roughly equal amount of time with them throughout the event, and consider their interests and personalities. And finally, she must stay inside the grounds of the palace. The Princes are all allowed to leave so long as they have guards to accompany them, but Cady is still under lock and key.

Janis now spends practically every waking moment with Cady. She takes her breakfasts earlier so she can guard Cady during her morning lessons, and takes her lunch late so she can protect her while she spends the late mornings and early afternoons courting all the Princes. Unless one of them requests it, Cady still dines alone with her family for dinner, and Janis takes hers at the same time.

She's certainly not complaining about the extra time with Cady, but it feels like she's getting less. They're not really spending time together anymore, Janis is just... doing her job. Guarding Cady, keeping her safe as she chooses someone to marry. She liked it better before, when it felt more like they were just friends.

On the fourth day of the festival, Janis gets a slight panic. Cady really seems to like this Aaron fellow. Janis came to terms with the fact that she had fallen hard for Cady long ago. She hadn't quite yet come to terms with the fact that she was going to have to watch Cady fall in love with someone else.

At the very least, Aaron is kind. He's a shy individual, who treats Cady with respect and makes sure to indulge her interests. He'll make a fine husband, a fine king. And yet, Janis gets a burning sense that he doesn't want that. He seems to like Cady in return, but none of the romantic things they do together seem to get him interested any more than he was when he arrived. Janis is either going to have to watch her best friend and secret love marry this man, or console her when he inevitably leaves. Maybe both.

She's deep in thought as she follows them around the gardens, ignoring the pang in her chest when she remembers this is the first place she ever really got to know Cady. Janis walked with her first.

Janis did a lot of things first. But Cady does several with the Princes as well, leaving Janis to wonder how special those moments really were. Cady goes riding with Jason, strolling around with Aaron, and even talks about art, albeit very briefly, with Shane.

Janis notices that Aaron keeps looking to their left, and that the corners of his mouth tick up just a bit when he does. Cady doesn't notice, she's looking at the beautiful sky and listening to the birds as the two of them chat peacefully. Janis looks with Aaron on the fifth time his head turns and is shocked to find that he seems to be looking at none other than her best friend.

Damian is working in the sewing room, hemming garments and sketching new gowns for Cady. Wedding gowns, most probably. He also keeps glancing up at them through the window, grinning slightly when he sees Aaron. How odd.

Janis realizes she's been staring at him for a while when he smiles and waves, and she waves back quickly before rushing to catch up with Cady and Aaron, who have gotten quite a ways away from her.

Cady sighs contently as she gets herself ready for bed that night, dizzy and dreamy. Janis is tense as she stands by the door.

"God, Janis, Aaron is so sweet," Cady swoons. "He spent our whole walk today just asking about me. He really wants to know me as a person, it's so wonderful."

"It is, Princess, I'm glad you enjoy his company," Janis grits, trying to hide her seething jealousy. If this keeps up she'll be out of a job. Get it together. "He seems wonderful for you."

Cady picks up on her tension, looking at her oddly. "Are you alright, Jay?"

"Hm?" Janis hums. Shit. "Oh, I'm fine, Cady. Just... tired is all. Longer days now, and everything."

Cady, blessedly, realizes that it's not something Janis wants to talk about. She grins comfortingly at her. "Okay. You should go get some rest, then. You can have tomorrow off, if you need. Can't have you getting too tired on the job."

Janis chuckles. "That's true. Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight, Janis," Cady replies as she crawls into her bed.

—————-

Janis does end up taking the next day off, to try and clear her head of this swirling mess of emotions. She spends it harassing Damian instead, pestering him with questions about his crush on Aaron as he tries desperately to catch up on his tasks.

"You think he's cuuuuuuute," Janis teases when Damian flushes at the mention of Aaron. "Damie's in looooove."

"Would you shut up? I have several sharp needles here and your eyeballs are within my reach," Damian huffs. "And besides, you're not any better with the Princess."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Janis demands. "I'm-I'm just her guard. Maybe a friend, that's it!"

"But you want more," Damian teases as he sticks his needle in a pincushion. "I see the way you look at her. You love her."

"As a friend!"

"No, Jan," Damian sighs. "I can tell. You had to pick the Princess, huh?"

"I didn't mean to," Janis mumbles. "She's just so pretty! And she's so nice, like... unless she's in the throne room it doesn't even feel like she's royalty."

"I understand," Damian sighs sadly. "I wish things were different. For all of us."

"You have no idea," Janis sighs back. The clock chimes then, signaling Janis has to leave for dinner and get back to her duties. "I love you. Remember our pact."

Damian laughs. They'd both decided that if they hadn't found anyone they could marry by the time they were thirty, they'd marry each other for tax benefits. "I love you too. Come down here more, I never get to see you."

"I will, I promise. Once Cady is married I'll have more time," Janis says. "Goodnight."

"Night, Jan."

"So how was your day?" Cady asks as she chooses her nightgown for the evening. "Is Damian well?"

"Yeah, he's fine, thanks," Janis says distractedly. "It was nice, I suppose."

"Missed me too much?" Cady teases from behind her privacy screen. Janis tenses. "That was a joke, Jay, you can laugh."

Janis forces a chuckle. Cady has no idea. "Yes, you're right, I can't bear to be away."

"Good, I miss your company when you're away too," Cady responds. "You've known him since you came here, right?"

"Yeah, he and I met about a month after I joined the guard," Janis says with a fond smile. "He was sort of the first person to feel like family after I was disowned."

Cady sits next to her on her bed. "He sounds wonderful. Um... may I ask you something?"

"Um, yes," Janis says anxiously. If she's asking permission, it must be a deep sort of question. "Go ahead."

"Why were you disowned? You've told me it's because your parents couldn't afford you any longer," Cady asks gently. "But I refuse to believe a parent would send their own flesh and blood away with nothing more than one loaf of bread and the clothes on her back if that were the only reason."

Janis leaps up and presses her back against the wall defensively. "I can't tell you the true reason."

"Why not? You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable, but I would never judge you," Cady says, looking at her sadly.

"It's not safe," Janis says hastily. "I would be... I would lose my position, maybe be exiled. Or worse."

"Is it that bad?" Cady asks, suddenly looking rather afraid of Janis. That's not what Janis wants, but she's desperately afraid to spill her secret. "Please, Jay, what happened to you?"

Janis supposes losing her position wouldn't be terrible. She doesn't want Cady to be scared of her, and maybe Cady can get someone better to guard her. It would help the crush go away, too. She takes a deep breath. "I... I fell in love."

"Oh. Why... why would they send you away for that?" Cady asks in confusion. "Come back, please."

Janis sits by her with a sigh. "I fell in love... with-with a girl. I've never felt anything for men."

"That's awful," Cady says. "Not that you fell in love," she amends hastily. "But you didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of that. You were a child."

"It would've happened at some point or another," Janis sighs in response. "They would have noticed I showed no interest in finding a husband. It probably would've been worse as I got older. I could adapt to life on the streets as a child."

Cady suddenly hugs her tightly. "I won't tell anyone else, you don't have to worry. You're staying here."

"But... why?" Janis stutters. "I'm, legally, a criminal, why would you allow me to stay? Aren't you worried I'd... corrupt you, or something?"

"Of course not," Cady chides. "I would never turn you away for something like this. I thought you had killed someone or something. Falling in love with a girl is fine, in my book. And I'm gonna be the Queen soon, my opinions are rather important." Cady decides not to tell Janis about the fact that she feels the same way sometimes. Not quite yet.

Janis chuckles. "Thanks, Cady. You're a good friend."

"You're even better," Cady says back, bumping their shoulders together. "The best first ever friend I could've asked for."

Janis grins at her. "I'm glad. You should rest, you have a long weekend ahead of you."

"Ugh, you're right," Cady groans at the reminder. She had to inform the Prince or Princes who would not be remaining by Sunday. "This is all so complicated."

"You'll figure it out," Janis says, squeezing her shoulders one last time before she stands to head into her own quarters. "Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight, Janis," Cady grins back. "Thank you."

Janis just salutes and heads into her room for bed.

—————-

Prince Shane continues to be a thorn in both of their sides. He gets his one on one time with Cady on Saturday, and spends no less than ten minutes complaining about how she had spent the week ignoring him. She hadn't, she had simply decided to give the Princes their allotted two hours with her in the same order they had arrived in. Shane just happened to be last.

Once their activity, a cooking lesson, is underway, Shane demands to know Janis' qualifications. It's clear that he thinks less of her abilities as a guard simply because she's a female. The absolute bastard. He rattles off questions for nearly the whole duration of his time with Cady, not even paying attention to the Princess or attempting to get to know her.

Janis chuckles as Cady adds entirely too much salt to their pie to get back at him, making Shane glare at her. She glares back, raising an eyebrow to dare him to try something.

Janis is tense as a brick wall by the time their pie is baked, waiting for him to taste it. He takes a large bite, while Cady barely gets a forkful. She grins coyly as he splutters at the salty taste.

"What did you do to it? Why is that so vile?" He demands. "You stupid woman, what did you do?"

"Back the fuck off," Janis growls when he grabs Cady's collar, reaching for her weapon. He glares at her, but does release Cady. She looks to Janis in thanks, her eyes wide in fear.

"Well, thank you for this, I had a lovely time," Cady says quietly and insincerely once she takes a deep breath. "If you would follow me to the main hall."

He does, with Janis between them in case he tries something again. He purposefully walks more quickly, bumping into Janis and stepping on her boots. Janis knows she can't stoop to his level, no matter how badly she wants to knock him to the ground and remove his tongue.

"Hello mother, hello father," Cady greets politely. "Mike, would you please gather the rest of the candidates here? I've made my first decisions."

"Right away, Your Highness," Mike says with a bow as he rushes out of the room. Cady goes to sit on her throne by her parents, leaving Shane to wait aimlessly in front of them.

In less than ten minutes, all nine of the other men are next to him, some looking more anxious than others at the prospect of going home. Cady takes a deep breath and stands.

"Hello, gentlemen," Cady greets, making them all finally shut up. "I'm sure you have been told, but I've gathered you here to inform you that I've made my first decision as to who will not be remaining in the competition for my hand."

The King nods approvingly behind her, proud of his daughter.

"The first and, as of yet, only Prince to be leaving us will be Prince Shane," Cady continues, prompting a dismayed gasp from him. "For truly deplorable and despicable behavior. The fact that you are handsome and from the kingdom of one of our best allies does not guarantee you a victory here. You have no right to speak to me, or any woman, for that matter, the way you have spoken to me. I pity your future spouse."

"Cadence!" The Queen chides.

"No, Betsy, let her speak," The King insists.

"As for the rest of you, please enjoy the weekend. You may feel free to explore the town or palace at your will. Our activities will resume on Monday," Cady concludes before she sits down and waves them all away. Shane glares at her and storms out of the room in a huff.

"Cadence, really, that was highly inappropriate," her mother scolds once the four of them are alone. "Whatever were you thinking?"

"He almost assaulted me," Cady says casually. "And called me a 'stupid woman', and was harassing Janis about her position, and demanded I spend more time with him than the other men, and told me to hold my tongue, and told me I should cover up more, and told me he would be under my skirts before too long. I think I was rather polite, actually."

The royals both look startled. "Cadence, why didn't you let us know earlier? We would have removed him right away!"

"It would have reflected poorly on us if I sent any of them away so soon," Cady replies. "The rule was a week. I stuck to it. May I please be excused now?"

"Yes, of course," The King says. The Queen still looks rather upset, but also nods. "Get some rest, dearest."

"I will, goodnight father," Cady says, hugging him gently. She begrudgingly hugs her mother as well after a moment's consideration. "Goodnight mother."

"Goodnight, Cadence."

————-

"God, why are men so dense?" Cady spits as soon as they're alone in her quarters again. Janis bursts out laughing.

"There's a reason I prefer the company of women, Princess," Janis giggles. "I suppose we'll never know."

Cady growls and starts pacing. "He was here to compete for my hand! In marriage! How does he think grabbing me that way and speaking to me so rudely was a good strategy? Of course I won't choose that!"

"I don't know, Princess," Janis says. "Are you alright? You looked frightened when he grabbed you."

"I... I was," Cady says quietly, stopping her movements. "I've never... nobody's ever touched me, that way. I was lucky you were there."

"I always will be," Janis replies gently. "Your father was right, you should get some rest. You have much to recover from."

"I suppose," Cady sighs. "Goodnight, Janis. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Cady. Anytime."

Janis stays up late to polish her things. She's about to turn in when she hears a scream come from Cady's quarters, the end muffled. She grabs her blade and hurries in, looking for her charge.

She finds her, pinned beneath Prince Shane, who has a hand held over her mouth and his pants down. Somehow he didn't hear Janis enter, allowing her to slam into him and knock him off of Cady.

He cries out in surprise as he's shoved to the floor, and again as Janis kicks him between the legs. "What the fuck were you doing to her?"

"That little slut doesn't even deserve me. Figured I'd at least get my chance before I'm done here, show her what she's missing," he snarls. Janis winds up and punches him between the eyes as hard as she can. He screams, "You fucking dyke!"

He punches back, nailing her left eye, and kicks her in the ribs. Janis thinks she hears a pop, and there's a sharp pain in her chest, but she ignores it. She lunges for him, pinning him on his stomach with his arms behind him. He squirms uselessly, she has him held.

The scuffle alerted the other guards, a few barreling into the room and observing their Princess, wide eyed and sobbing with fear on her bed, and Janis straddling a Prince with his pants around his ankles and his arms pinned behind him.

"Sarkisian, what is the meaning of this?" One of the other guards demands.

"This scum," Janis spits. "Tried to assault the Princess. Take him to the dungeons, let them deal with him until he's removed from the premises. And get someone to guard her window, from now on."

"Right away, soldier," he replies, grabbing Shane from the ground roughly and dragging him out the door.

"I was just trying to get what I deserve!" Shane calls as he's led down to the dungeon.

"You're getting it now, asstown. I hope you rot," Janis growls. Once they're alone she rushes over to the Princess. "Are you okay, Cady? Did he do anything?"

Cady shakes her head, but is still crying hysterically. Janis is familiar with the terror in her eyes, she's felt it herself. "H-he-he... wh-why?"

"Because he's a misogynistic piece of shit, Princess. No part of this is your fault," Janis insists. "Can I touch you?"

Cady nods desperately, reaching for her. Janis sits on the edge of her bed, grunting with pain slightly as Cady leaps into her embrace and sobs into her shoulder.

"Shh, he's gone. You're safe, I promise, I won't let anyone hurt you. I'm here, shh," Janis repeats, holding her close and letting her cry. Cady cries for a long time, weeping and whimpering into her shoulder. "Shh, you're okay now, I promise."

"He hit you," Cady sniffles once she's calmed down a bit. "Your eye."

"I'm fine, Princess, I'll deal with it in the morning," Janis says, but winces slightly as Cady brushes the area where he kicked her. Cady holds the hem of her shirt and looks at her, lifting it when Janis gives a begrudging nod.

"Oh, god, Janis," Cady sobs. "What did he do to you?"

"He kicked me, but please, Cady, don't worry. I've been hit harder, I'm fine," Janis replies.

"No, you're not," Cady sniffles. "Lie down, I'll be back in a moment."

"Cady, what-" Janis tries, but Cady pushes her down and runs from the room. She returns a few moments later with tears still pouring from her eyes, holding several bottles and cloths.

She wets one of the small cloths with cool water from the basin by her bed, wringing out the excess and pressing it gently to Janis' eye. Janis winces slightly but accepts it, holding it herself as Cady moves to her torso.

She presses around the already bruising area gently, pulling back abruptly when Janis gasps in pain.

"God, Janis, he broke a rib," She sobs again. "I'm so sorry."

"Princess, please, don't worry. I'll be okay," Janis comforts, stroking Cady's cheek.

Cady pours several of the bottles onto another much larger cloth, brushing it as gently as she can over the bruise before grabbing a dry one and helping Janis to sit upright. She wraps it tenderly around her torso to hold her ribs in place tightly, resting a hand on the uninjured side when she finishes.

"Thank you," Janis says quietly. "Are you okay?"

"No." Cady says bluntly. "I told my parents we shouldn't have done this. Look what happened. You could've been killed if he had a weapon. I was almost raped. I'm not going to be okay for a long time."

"I understand," Janis says, stroking a hand through her hair gently. "I've been there, too. But you're safe now. I've got another guard by your window now, there's no way for anyone to come in unless you want them to. And my injuries will heal, I don't want you worrying about me."

"How do you do it, Jay? How-how do you keep going, after everything?" Cady asks, lying down beside her and cuddling into her side. Janis tenses, if anyone were to walk in this would be difficult to explain.

"I don't know. I am affected by my past, more than I let on. But I just... remember the reasons I have to stick around, I guess," Janis responds as she pulls her closer.

"Like what?"

"Like... Damian. Who else would be his best friend, who else would steal extra pastries from the kitchen with him? Or like Pancakes, who else would take care of him, sneak him apples? Or... like you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Who else would keep you safe, who else would have tea with you when you're alone, who else would chase you around the gardens? You're so dear to me. I shouldn't say so, I know, but I fear I've gotten rather attached to you," Janis replies. "Sometimes it's just the littlest reason that coaxes me to stay. Like, if I left I would never see the way you fidget with your hair when you read again."

"I do that?" Cady sniffles.

"Yeah. It's cute," Janis replies as she tries to sit up. "You'll find your own reasons to keep going, I promise."

Cady doesn't let her go. "Stay, please. I don't want to be alone tonight. Please?"

Janis looks at her. She can't resist, Cady still looks terrified. "Okay, sure. If you want me to stay."

Cady nods. Janis lies on her good side next to her, and Cady nuzzles into her chest gently. Janis instinctively pulls her closer as Cady tugs her soft blankets up around them.

"I'm cancelling the rest of the event. I'm done," Cady says, muffled by Janis' chest. "We'll throw another one later. My parents will agree, after tonight."

"Sounds like a plan, Princess. We'll let everyone know tomorrow," Janis replies. "Get some sleep, I'll keep you safe."

"Okay. Thank you, Jay," Cady says as she somehow presses closer.

"You're welcome," Janis says back. She waits for Cady's breathing to even out before she kisses her hair gently and whispers, "I love you."

————-

The men are all sent home over the following week, and none of them are allowed to see Cady. She needs time to heal and recover, so she spends most days on her balcony with Janis. Sometimes they play games. Cady teaches Janis how to play chess and Janis teaches Cady how to play cards. Other times they just talk. Janis reveals a bit more about her past, and lends an ear to Cady when she needs to vent.

Almost exactly a month later, Cady's birthday finally arrives. She and Janis have spent most of the month trying to think of something to do that would appease the commonwealth, since most everyone was looking forward to a royal wedding and sorely disappointed that there wasn't going to be one. Cady decided on a trip through the villages. Just her, and almost every guard in the palace.

Her parents approved the idea after several weeks of coaxing, and only because she would be bringing so many guards with her and because they knew the people were unhappy with Cady. The commonwealth hadn't been told the reason all the Princes were sent home, to respect her privacy.

Cady is particularly excited about this trip because she's allowed to leave her carriage, for once. Council appointed soldiers to search and guard vulnerable points at certain stops along their route. Cady would be allowed to stop and greet her people at these points.

"Jay, forgive me if this sounds rude," Cady says the night before they go as she's getting ready for bed.

"Oh goodness," Janis sighs jokingly from her perch on Cady's bed. "What is it?"

"You lived in the villages before you came here. What would... what should I do, when I speak to the people? To show them that I care, and such?" Cady asks gently.

"Oh. That's not rude at all, Princess," Janis says. "I can't speak for every single villager, but I would say just to be yourself. Be kind, try not to judge them. People like when you interact with children, and the poorer the kid is the better, I would say. Just talk to them like people."

"Be kind, talk to children, and treat them like people," Cady repeats. "That was my plan anyway, so I'm glad you think that's what I should do."

"I figured it would be, it's not like you to be haughty or anything," Janis replies. "Just try not to seem too... royal. I wouldn't do anything to remind them that you control the money and things, tomorrow should be happy, they don't need a reminder of that stuff."

"Okay, I can... I think I can do that, anyway," Cady says anxiously.

"You can. Just treat people like you did me when we first met and you'll be fine. The people adore you, nothing will happen," Janis comforts. "When I was out there I heard stories all the time from other kids who had family connected here. All anyone would talk about was how beautiful and smart and kind the Princess is. That hasn't changed."

"They speak about me?" Cady asks shyly. "So kindly? I thought they would hate me."

"Some probably do, but they won't make an effort to come see you if that's the case. Everyone who will be there tomorrow adores you," Janis says with finality. The clock chimes midnight then. "Happy birthday, Princess."

Cady giggles and turns around in her chair. "Thank you, Janis. Where are you going?"

Janis is rooting through her quarters for the gift she's made. With a loud crash, she finds it buried under the mound of things under her bed. She comes back sheepishly holding the piece of canvas to her chest. "Um. Here."

Cady takes it gently and turns it around. She grins widely when she sees it's a landscape painting of the woods on the outskirts of the kingdom, bathed in snow. Janis even included Pancakes in the background. "Oh, Jay, this is beautiful! Did you do this?"

"Yeah. I was hoping it would be done by Yule but I couldn't go out to the woods very often, so it took a while," Janis says shyly.

"I love it, thank you," Cady says happily. "I'll hang it just here, I'll be able to see it every day." She holds it up just above her mirror. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Princess," Janis says, blushing. She didn't think it was that good. "We should rest, you have an exciting day tomorrow."

Cady comes up to hug her tightly. "Goodnight, Janis."

Janis hugs back just as tight. "Goodnight, Cady."

The next morning, Janis is in her uniform and fed bright and early, sitting next to a very eager Cady in the royal carriage. Pancakes has also been given a special duty for the day. He's been trained to pull carts and plows over the last several months, so he gets to be part of the team pulling them along. He looks very dapper in his fancy bridle.

Cady squeals in shock when they set off, but recovers quickly and looks eagerly outside. Janis smiles at seeing how happy she is.

Her excitement only builds when they reach their first stop. The other guards have been walking along beside them to stop anyone rushing the carriage, but they sus out the crowd and eventually part to let Cady approach the people. Janis follows at a close distance, but lets Cady approach on her own.

They have a limited amount of time to spend at each stop, but Cady reaches to shake hands with as many people as she can and even holds short conversations with a few. Everyone is delighted to see her, as Janis predicted.

Each stop is similar, until the last. The guards do their usual check and part for Cady, but almost instantly they're yelling for her to get back. Cady looks around in shock briefly and Janis tenses, but it turns out to just be a stray child that broke past the barrier to see the Princess.

Cady gasps when the small form hits her leg, looking down to see a young girl in a patched dress and her face smudged with dirt. She waves her guards off and crouches down to her level.

"Hello, little one, what's your name?" Cady asks kindly, smiling when the girl stumbles to curtsy.

"My name is Evangeline!" the girl grins happily, showing off her missing teeth.

Cady smiles gently. "That's a lovely name. My name is Cadence. But my friends call me Cady."

"That's pretty too," Evangeline smiles. "Are you really the Princess?"

"I am," Cady chuckles. She points to the castle up at the top of the hill. "I live in the palace up there."

"Wow," Evangeline says in awe. "Your mommy and daddy are the King and Queen?"

"Yes, they are, you're very smart," Cady says. "Speaking of, where are your mommy and daddy? You seem to have broken away."

"They're over there, they wouldn't let me see you," Evangeline points as she pops up on her tippy toes to see. Cady looks and finds two terrified looking adults. "So I ran away."

"Well, I'm glad to speak to you, but you shouldn't run away, Evangeline," Cady says gently. "Come with me, introduce me to them."

She stands and takes the young girl's hand, who skips happily back to her parents. "Mommy, Daddy, this is the Princess! She's so pretty!"

"Your Highness, our deepest apologies, we never thought she would have run off like that," the mother apologizes as they both bow frantically.

"It's quite alright, we had a lovely chat," Cady says happily. "You have a beautiful child. Here you are, Evangeline. You should stay with your family from now on."

"Thank you, Your Highness," the father says. "Evan, give the Princess your gift, you mustn't forget."

"Oh!" Evangeline says suddenly, rooting through her pocket and pulling out a slightly crushed crocus. They're the national flower of Evanston, and Cady's personal favorite. "I picked this for you!"

Cady takes it gently with a quiet gasp. "Thank you, this is beautiful! I'll wear it here." She tucks the flower behind her ear so it pokes out from her hair. "Good?"

Evangeline nods with a grin. Cady crouches down again to hug her goodbye.

"Goodbye, little one, it was lovely to meet you," Cady says, squeezing her tightly.

"Goodbye, Princess," Evangeline says sadly. Cady stands and makes her way back to her guards as the family turns to leave. Cady and Evangeline wave goodbye one last time before the family is out of sight.

"That was precious," Janis chuckles when Cady comes back to her. "And she was lucky I saw she was a child in time, I nearly took her head off."

"Jay!" Cady chides in shock. "Don't you dare. She was lovely, so sweet."

"I'm kidding," Janis groans. "You should speak to more people if you wish, we're running out of time."

"This is the last stop, we can take a little while longer," Cady responds. "Come with me?"

Janis follows after her as she approaches the barrier again, greeting the people waiting there. Some offer small gifts, perfumes and flowers or baked goods. Cady takes them all with a thank you and makes light conversation with as many people as she can.

Gradually, the crowd starts to clear. Janis relaxes ever so slightly now that there's fewer people around them. Until she hears,

"Sic semper tyrannis!"

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #regina george #gretchen wieners #karen smith #aaron samuels #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway

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cylonalyna · 4 years

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Alyna watches Xena! S01x01 – Sins of the Past

Beware. For the road is long and full of spoilers… I mean, if a 25 years old show can be spoiled. But fair warning.

I was never a fan of Hercules so when I watched the pilot I didn’t know what Xena’s back story was and that it was Hercules who convinced her to change her ways. And because I didn’t know that, I thought Xena was just this ex-evil warrior who changed her ways because of some reason known to her. Anyway, I remember watching this episode out of boredom and thinking it’s just a female version of Hercules, but oh boy, was I wrong. Thankfully. And this thing here was supposed to be short but I made a very long recap of the episode. Sorry not sorry, I’m gonna be making recaps of the series. Yes, every single episode… Not regularly... And it's gonna be long… Deal with it.

And maybe read it and let me know what you think. :)

Oh, and if there are any grammatical or punctuation errors also let me know. English isn't my first language so there might be some things to fix. :)

We start with Xena is going through some burned village reminiscing on her past when she was just killing, pillaging and burning villages… And people too, I guess. And then there’s this boy coming out of a burned house asking for food. And when Xena asks him where his parents are, he says Xena killed them. He describes her attack as if the goddess herself showed up and fucked the village up for no reason and Xena is all like:

And it’s really one of the best moments of a pilot, because we’re shown flashback of the attack so even without watching Hercules and meeting Xena there we can see she used to be a bad bitch. So before leaving she gives the kid some bread and cheese so he could hide in his burned house and eat something before he dies of some sickness, gets killed, is eaten by wild animals in search for food etc. Brilliant plan boy, you’re a prodigy.

So then we have the scene where Xena digs a hole and puts her armor her sword and chakram there and frankly, she’s not really a clean lady since there’s still blood and some meat pieces on her chakram.

*rule #1 - wash your weapons from enemies intestines*

And suddenly, a whole bunch of villagers is chased by some warlord taken straight from Mad Max movie. Xena observes the situation, the Mad Max warlord says he’s gonna get the girls (men, smh) and then this blonde girl is all like “take me and leave everyone” and warlords are like “lmfao, nope” and Xena is all like:

*Carless Whisper saxophone solo intensifies*

Because frankly, who wouldn’t be? I know I had the same reaction to Gabrielle so I get Xena. I totally get it.

So when the warlord wants to whip Gabrielle for being insubordinate Xena suddenly jumps into action and starts kicking ass. We get backflips, kicks, punches and a really awesome action sequence until Xena is hit in the head (because she was watching if Gabrielle was safe and it got her distracted. Again, totally understandable).

Men are standing there groaning “argh, grr, rghhg” or something like that and then BOOM! Xena takes out her sword from the hole and with a laugh starts fighting them. And you can see how much fun she has. She kicks warlords’ asses and realizes they’re from Draco so she tell them to say hello from Xena. But who’s Draco? What does he do? Is he more evil then Xena? We don’t know! And… opening!

In a time of ancient gods, warlords… Well, you know it.

So later on Xena is in this small village surrounded by the villagers and Gabrielle is fawning over her and the whole situation, and Gabrielle’s father comes in being all like “thanks for saving us, but now GTFO” and this tall dude behind him wants to take Gabrielle. But Gabrielle is all like “dude, I know I’m supposed to marry you against my will and then die in childbirth or of boredom, but I’m not gonna listen to you. GTFO”. So when he leaves, Gabrielle begs Xena to take her with her. Xena being stoic and supposedly unmoved by Gabrielle words of course disagrees, because “she works alone” and… Then she tells Gabrielle she’s going to Amphipolis, because OF COURSE Gabrielle wouldn’t try and follow her. Nope. Not at all. And she goes like “don’t follow me, you don’t wanna make me mad, do you?” and of course Gabrielle is all like “yeah, no sure, I get it” but then is of course “meh, she’s not that scary. I just need a plan!”

So we move to Draco’s camp where he’s without shirt exposing his bare chest, being all handsome and shit, and being badass when catching almost four arrows at once. But then he’s sort of colorblind… I mean he notices the color of the arrow that wounded him but can’t see who has green arrows when the dude’s arrows are visible from behind his back...

*seriously Draco…*

Anyway, later he’s alone and Xena sneaks in and they have the whole who's tougher bitch, which is Xena of course, and she asks him to leave the village alone (because of her future wife or something) and Draco’s all like “yeah, sure… If you join me” and when Xena says she can’t join Draco, being a typical man he asks why. And we get this really awesome scene where Xena dramatically turns her back, stares at nothing and says she’s going home. OH, DRAMA!

So Draco becomes even a bigger drama queen than Xena and tells our warrior saying he’s dreamt of being in love with her or… fighting in battle or whatever, can’t remember, but Xena turns and Draco goes all soft and says he’ll spare those villagers. But he also asks Xena what's she looking for at home. Being still in drama mode he tells her that when he tried to come home his dad beat the shit out of him with a blacksmith’s hammer. And he survived that. Damn, he IS badass! I mean, have you people ever seen a blacksmith hammer?!

*10/10 wouldn't recommend this an educational tool*

Meanwhile, Gabrielle wants to escape home in the middle of the night and while sneaking out she… Hits strategically placed table waking up her sister Lila. Gabrielle explains to her she needs to follow Xena because she’s in lo… She wants to be a warrior like her and that she doesn’t love Perdicus and it’s her destiny. So Lila being a supportive sister is all like “Go, chase your girlf…. Dreams! Just do it!” and Gabrielle leaves.

*Lila being a supportive sister*

It’s daylight and Xena is riding Argo when suddenly her horse stops all afraid. So Xena gets off the horse that suddenly runs away and… The Blind Cyclops shows up with Draco’s dad’s blacksmith’s hammer! (I honestly don’t know if I used Saxon Genitive in the right way, but I hope you get the meaning). Xena is all like “Fuuuck, that’s a big hammer!” which makes the Blind Cyclops even more badass than he already is, but she stands to fight and humiliates him by dropping his pants. He starts bawling like a baby and Xena leaves him and continues her journey to Amphipolis, because she has no time to deal with Cyclops drama.

But Draco is plotting against Xena. He decides to attack Amphipolis and pretend it was Xena who told him to do it. Plot thickens, you guys.

Gabrielle is afraid of bridges… And gets caught by…Yes, you guessed right. The Blind Cyclops. But being a smart girl she says she’s out here to find and kill Xena because… And here we have very subtexty dialogue:

C: “How’s the young thing like you is gonna kill Xena?”

G: “That’s the point. She’d never let a man get close enough to do her. At least not that kind of do her. But a young, innocent looking girl like me, I’ll catch her totally off guard…

*You sure will, Gabrielle. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)*

At the same time, Xena is being followed by Draco’s warlords. They’re dumb enough to think she doesn’t know so she goes all ninja on them, fingers the Mad Max warlord… I mean, she cuts the blood to his body… Pervs. ;) And when she learns about the plan she leaves to stop the invasion.

In the next scene, Gabrielle is chilling out on the road when some old dude stops and tells her to GTFO, because she’s blocking the only route to Amphipolis. So Gabrielle convinces him to take her with him and the old dude agrees.

So while Gabrielle and the old man are traveling on the only route to Amphipolis, Xena is taking a detour through the hills for dramatic effect or something. Basically, New Zealand… I mean Greece is a beautiful place so why not show it, right? Right?

She meets those peasant women singing Bulgarian… I mean Greek chants and rides through them, but they don’t give a shit being too into chanting and putting on stacks of… Hay, I guess. Meh, whatever.

So Xena reaches Amhipolis and goes into a tavern to drink wine and sleep with beautiful women. But unfortunately it’s not that kind of a tavern and there’s no wine and beautiful women to sleep with. All she meets are angry people, silence and… wait for it… her mother, Cyrene!

Cyrene grabs Xena’s sword and tells her she’s not welcomed there and she should GTFO. Xena wants to rally people against Draco but Cyrene is against and she tells Xena she’d rather die and that she’s not her mother. And it’s a rather powerful stuff, because we only know glimpses of Xena’s past so we don’t really know how big her crimes are. Of course burning one village and killing peasants is a big no no, but Xena is too big of a character to be hated for such a minor offense. Anyway, villagers in the tavern also tell Xena to GTFO so she does.

Draco is pissed that Mad Max warlord told Xena about his plans and tells him to pick a weapon. Sadly it’s not Draco’s father’s blacksmith’s hammer because that’s been stolen by the Blind Cyclops, but a simple spear. Still, Draco proves to be truly awesome by kicking Mad Max warlord’s ass and killing him while telling new plans to his people. Truly, he was a great choice for a pilot.

In the morning, Xena comes back to the tavern looking around hoping to find some wine and beautiful ladies to sleep with, but to her disappointment there are still none. But her sword is there. And her mom is there. Oh boy, this tension between them could cut diamonds in half. But we get a bonding moment where Cyrene and Xena open old wounds so they could heal, and Xena tells her mother she might not be able to set things right, but she’s gonna spend the rest of her life to try. It’s another great moment in this show where we see Xena in her vulnerable state and not all powerful and strong. And this moment is ruined by villagers coming into the tavern saying Xena’s army is burning fields to which Xena answers they’re lying, Cyrene feels all hurt thinking it was all a ruse and leaves, and villagers start throwing rocks at our warrior princess.

But then Gabrielle comes to the rescue! Because Gabrielle has a natural talent to talk her way out of troubles, she uses it to save Xena. She uses a cunning bluff of “if you hurt bad guy’s girlfriend imagine how pissed he’ll be”. So the villagers reluctantly agree and decide to not commit murder. After a small talk Xena takes Gabrielle on her horse and takes her to her dead brother. Because, you know, there’s no better start of a romance than a visit at the crypt.

So Xena is talking to his dead brother saying she’s lost but that she’s gonna be ok, but that she’s alone and then Gabrielle shows up saying she’s not. And by the way that they’re looking at each other we’re to believe these two weren’t into each other from the beginning? Please.

*they’ve known each other for like 1 hour and we get those looks already? So straight indeed*

Meanwhile, the villagers are waiting for Draco to make a deal, but when he shows up he’s threatening to destroy everything and kill everyone unless they tell him where Xena is. And this is another great moment for Draco, because he really is a scary and ruthless dude and I really wish he was more in this show then just 3 episodes. It was a wasted character, imo.

Anyway, while threatening the leader to kill him, Xena shows up and Draco makes fun of her asking about the homecoming. Again, he tries to convince Xena to join him and goes all Palpatine saying she should “celebrate her dark side”, but Xena is all like “pfft, fuck off and let’s fight to the death”. Draco tells her to choose weapons, but Xena leaves the choice to Draco. Now, Draco being a really smart guy and someone who knows how good Xena is with swords, chooses staffs. I’m sure he believes it’ll give him advantage or at least even oit the odds. Xena chooses the conditions and her conditions are to fight on a scaffolding. The first person to touch the ground is gonna die. Draco agrees and tells his people that whoever falls first is to be killed.

Doing a flip with the help of his people he gets to a scaffolding and grabs his staff. Xena is way more of a showgirl. She hits the dude with his staff and when he leans down she jumps on his back and then on a head of another warlord and jumps to meet her opponent.

They start fighting. It’s an even fight and Draco proves to be a worthy opponent. Soon Xena has to fight to stay on the bamboo scaffolding as it starts to fall off. The archers prepare to shoot, Cyrene shows up and everyone is thinking if she’s gonna fall. But no, Xena standing on one bamboo stick starts hitting bamboos under Draco’s feet to make him back out and leave him vulnerable. But Draco stands tough and very soon he manages to make Xena almost fall again. She manages to hang on her staff, her legs barely touching the ground. Cyrene starts panicking, being all teary, because, come on, she’s a mom. No matter how pissed our moms are at us, they worry 24/7.

Draco starts hiting Xena’s hands wanting her to let go and fall, asking her why she would die for the people that hate her. But Xena grabs Draco’s staff with her feet and doing a truly awesome backflip she manages to stand on the scaffolding again attacking him. Draco almost falls but jumps on people’s heads and give Xena a signal to join him.

And the same villagers who earlier denied Xena her wine and beautiful women to sleep with, and wanted her dead are now supporting her… Literally. She manages to stand on the arms of one person and attacks Draco. They do backflips, kicks, punches and all that for a few minutes and then with one swift kick to the chest Draco falls down on the ground and Xena jumps on his chest looking down upon him to let him know he’s just a little bitch and not a match to her skills. Xena promises to spare Draco if he leaves the valley and he agrees.

But one of his warlords decides to sneakily attack Xena from behind. Gabrielle’s warns her, but before the warrior can react Draco throws his knife at him. After all, Draco may be a ruthless warlord, but he’s honorable.

After the fight Xena is preparing to leave when Cyrene shows up and hugs Xena, who asks again for forgiveness and is, of course, given that. It's a truly awesome moment in this pilot.

But, and honestly I have no idea why, Xena doesn’t stay in the tavern for wine and beautiful women to sleep with. Maybe there is no wine and beautiful women to sleep with after all. Instead, Xena starts a fire near some woods when she hears some noise and goes into a warrior mode. But, as it turns out, it’s just Gabrielle saying she wanted to follow Xena without her noticing, but she couldn’t start a fire and it’s cold and there are mosquitoes looking lkke eagles or something.

Xena wants to send her back home, but Gabrielle says she won’t go. There’s a talk about not belonging there and Xena seems to understand Gabrielle completely. So when she gives Gabrielle a blanket we get one of the most beautiful moments in the pilot.

*couldn't find gif so you're stuck with bad screenshot*

And in the morning we see Xena and Gabrielle travelling to new adventures to right wrongs, drink wine and… Oh forget it.

This episode is all kinds of awesomeness. It’s a great introduction to a character of Xena even to those, like me, who didn’t know her from Hercules. It has tons of very well choreographed fights, amazing music and it’s a rreally strong pilot that makes you wanna see more.

10/10

#xena warrior princess #xena #gabrielle #xena and gabrielle #lucy lawless #renee o'connor #sins of the past #01x01 #alyna watches xena

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sanguinesorceress · 4 years

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Marked For Death (Part 3)

[Part 1]

[Part 2 ]

Suspicious Death of Magister Deemed Homicide

Toxicology reports have uncovered the cause of death for a Kirin Tor Magister to be a deadly toxin more commonly known by its street name of “Zanzil’s Slow Poison.” Believed to be completely incurable, the outlawed toxin is either ingested or absorbed through direct contact, triggering the gradual deterioration of multiple internal organs before resulting in what can only be described by medical experts as “an excruciating death.” Authorities are baffled as a recent interview with the medical examiner has revealed “there is no definitive way of knowing precisely when the victim came into contact with the toxin. Several factors such as body mass, diet, exercise, and the use of other medications, can alter the timeline when attempting to calculate the exact moment of poisoning. Unfortunately, we are working with an approximation of one week at best.” If anyone has any information regarding the suspicious death of Magister Jadex, authorities are encouraging them to come forward at this time.

As the ‘Tide Seer’ dispersed with a splash of salt water and collapsed into a lifeless heap of seaweed on the shore, the Sorceress appeared on a cliffside elsewhere.

"Such an intriguing cloth to wear,” remarked the watcher from the shadows as he stepped to her side, “especially when used to turn a suspicious eye toward the already disreputable Kvaldir.” She could feel his frigid stare burning into the crimson fabric of her hood, but she dared not glance his way. Not yet. For now, her eyes remained glued to the Kaldorei’s silhouette down below, watching him saddle up in preparation for his immediate departure.

As per their agreement, her co-conspirator had tailed the assassin across the continent while taking every precaution to ensure his presence went unnoticed. Looming high overhead, he observed the Sorceress’ performance from the safety of a cave through a network of scrying orbs she had organized beforehand. Already confident of the answer, she sought the opinion of her companion for the sake of making conversation. “Do you believe he will comply?”

"You understand your prey, Sorceress. You know their weaknesses and just how to exploit them,” he remarked dispassionately. “The living will throw all caution to the wind when love is concerned, whether to obtain said infatuation or to protect it, I find it quite pathetic, really.”

She glanced over her shoulder, rivaling the intensity of his gaze with that of her own. “Is that so?” she prodded, and an amused grin pulled her sable lips tighter than a garrotting wire, “Is there nothing in this world you would protect with your life?”

Her question brought a telling smirk to his face. Haunting was that subtle gesture, the look of a man who housed layer upon layer of intricacies that were nearly impossible to unravel. "Blindness" he scoffed, and although the word was little more than a whisper, his authoritative voice carried above the crashing waves, refusing to be overcome by their ceaseless roar. "Blind love. Blind actions. Blind movements in the dark. Flailing arms trying to grasp at hope, at an opportunity to free one’s self from whatever chains they have shackled themselves with.” His eyes found her target, the shaken Kaldorei, and his grin stretched into something far more sinister.

"What I cherish, dear lady, cannot —and does not— need protecting.” His eyes flared into a mixture of blue flame and shadow, as his gaze returned to the Sorceress. "You need only notice the bones under your feet, the cuts you make, and the lives you absolve from this realm. Gaze deeply into the eyes of those you claim, bask in the realization of their fate —of their untimely end—then, in those eyes, you will see what I love."

It was for this very purpose she had chosen him to carry out this important task in her overarching plan. The man’s ideals were iron-clad, armoring him against unwelcome influences, thereby distinguishing him as a powerful ally. Having served his tenure under the Lich King, the Shepherd, once awakened, vowed to never again succumb to the same ‘blindness’ as the living. Perceived to be walking abominations in the eyes of mortals, the two shared the belief that they were lucid dreamers existing alongside a comatose society.

“I would like for you to continue your surveillance on the young assassin to ensure he fulfills his task.” She handed him a satchel, and judging by the clinking sounds coming from within the leather bag, it housed several glass vials. “I have procured enough invisibility potions to conceal you from the scrying eyes in Dalaran.” A single, cautionary finger stabbed the air as she relayed a warning. “They will only hide your appearance, not your aura, therefore I advise you suppress any urges you may have to use magic over the next twelve hours.”

A trying task. The simplicity of it was presented before him, yet the request was made all the more complex in the back of his mind. For one who dwelled among the shadows, who lingered out of sight only to be seen as the last thing to be seen, he understood intimately that strategy was paramount in a situation such as this. "Hide what I am.” It was a familiarity that soon reclaimed him. Conceal yourself. Don't let them catch you. Pallid lips twisted ever so slightly as he accepted the Sorceress’ magical aid. "Be it by shadow, unholy magic, or physical inevitability… Death always collects its due.” He curled his plated fingers around the bag and held it close to his chest. "You shall have your result."

From the moment the Tide Seer dispersed, Oneth knew the clock was ticking.

12 Hours. Starting now. Think fast, you can do this.

Eliminate target number one = 4 Hours (Including travel time, cleanup, and disposal.)

12 - 4 = 8

8 Hours

Target number two would require preventative methods and careful planning. His death won’t be nearly as easy to cover up while meeting the Tide Seer’s conditions of a ‘slow and excruciating death.’

Excruciating Death = Zanzil’s Slow Poison

Acquire reagents from usual suppliers = 6 hours

Create and administer toxin = 4 hours

6 + 4 = 10

8 - 10 = Dead Wife

Not an option. Try again, Oneth.

Acquire half of the reagents locally, the other half from usual suppliers = 3.5 hours

Create and administer toxin = 4 hours

3.5 + 4 = 7.5

7.5 Hours (with 30 mins serving as a buffer for small errors)

This won’t be easy, but if it will save her life, I have to at least try. Now, to make this happen and not fuck up.

He had worked tirelessly through the night, and thus far, not only was everything going according to plan, but according to schedule. Perhaps lady luck was on his side, or maybe the Gods had finally decided to smile upon him. Whatever the reasoning, he was not one to question his good fortune.

Even with the use of portals, the majority of his time was consumed by travel. The places he was required to visit were remote, and with good reason. Herbalists were forbidden to stock the full ingredient list and alchemists were outlawed from making or carrying the deadly poison. Anyone caught with the knowledge of its procurement were obligated to report suspicious activity to the authorities, and there were few business owners willing to risk their livelihood or their reputation on an assassin regardless of how tempting the bribe may be.

Each reagent had to be purchased from a different supplier, then combined in the privacy of an undisclosed location to avoid suspicion. This was not the first time he had created Zanzil’s Slow Poison, but it was certainly the first he had done it on such short notice.

“Your tea, Sir,” trilled the waitress as she placed a steaming beverage before the Magister. “Only a half-spoon of honey; just the way you like it.”

Scholar’s hands, smoothed by the caress of only the finest parchment in Dalaran, wrapped around the teacup. Stolen warmth snaked its way up his arms and scalded his lips as he flashed her a heated smile. “My dear, sweet, Lady. It appears you are working late, yet again.” Despite what he would have others believe, the Magister was not as gentle natured as he feigned. His tips were overly generous, particularly when it came to pretty faces, and such generosity would grant him a night or two with a supple body to warm his bed. (Before they discovered the dark, sadistic desires he harbored behind closed doors.) This evening’s prize had been particularly elusive over the past several weeks and tonight he was certain she would succumb to his particular brand of charm. “What sort of gentleman would I be if I did not fret for your safety at such a late hour. Would you allow me the honor of escorting you home after your shift this evening?”

As the two conversed, Oneth carried on with his work, seemingly overwhelmed by the persistent duties of being a porter. Tables were cleaned, empty glasses were cleared, and bottles were retrieved from the cellar upon request. Never did he cease to move, the buzzing bee that he was, and he flitted from table to table with the enthusiasm of a young lad eager to please. Let them grow comfortable with the diligent worker so they may overlook the stinger at his back. It was menial work, but necessary in order to maintain certain appearances, and the bustle of the tavern helped to bring a semblance of normalcy to an otherwise unorthodox lifestyle. Now and again, Oneth allowed his gaze to wander in their direction, waiting for the exact moment when all of his careful planning would come to fruition.

Twenty seven minutes and counting.

After an excruciatingly painful exchange, his coworker managed to, yet again, artfully decline the polite pervert and evade his overeager hands. Evidently the Magister would be going home alone again, but tonight’s loss would do little to thwart his redoubled attempt tomorrow. Oneth had witnessed this ‘act’ on more than one occasion. He would be doing her, in addition to his employer, a favor by ridding the world of this viscid parasite.

Eighteen minutes.

Long after the tea, and his advances had gone cold. Magister Jadex commenced his nightly exiting ritual. The empty teacup was returned to its saucer, followed by the jingle of too many coins being placed upon the table in a grandiose show of ‘appreciation,’ and lastly the dabbing of his lips with a paper napkin. Only this time, the napkin would bear both the message and the means of his demise. At first, the Magister appeared not to notice the writing, but rather than make a scene, he lowered it to his lap where he could read the words discreetly.

One day I will return and you won’t be around to see me rise again.

No dilation of pupils, no widening of eyes, no frantic searching for the culprit ensued. Nothing occurred despite knowing with absolute certainty that he had received the message. Oneth found himself both perplexed and slightly intrigued. Perhaps this was not the first threat the Magister had received. Instead, the note was pocketed, and he bid his coveted prize a good evening before gracefully taking his leave.

Unfortunately for him, this was not just a threat. It was a delayed execution, and with the strange pearl already concealed within the Magister’s home, all he had to do now was wait.

[ Co-written with @lazraelbandtherion as his respective part. ]

@hmratking @loveherdekay @safrona-shadowsun @duraxxor

#Plot: Marked for Death #part three #read all three parts #you will not be disappointed #sanguine sorceress #the shepherd in wolf's clothing #The Rat King #the rat queen #so sorry this took so long #thank you for your patience #stay tuned for more to come #sorceress literature

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choicessa · 4 years

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Before I go - Mal x MC

Pairing: Mal x MC

Words: 4816 (~ 25 minutes)

Summary: After the night they have spent together, Mal and MC think about their future, preparing to say goodbye before they go separate ways.

Warning: None, just prepare for a loooot of angst

Stories were always a huge part of his life.

Some of them he created, weaving the legendary stories of his treasure quests, ladies he had met, monsters he had fought. Some were just fairytales, lies, he made up for fun, to entertain the crowd in taverns. Some of them contained the truth, truth about him, about his life, about his past, yet those he guarded as the most precious treasure, hiding them deep inside and almost never sharing them with anyone.

Yet, there were other stories. Those he had heard, those he had repeated, those he was told by his mother, his companions, throughout his whole life. Stories of knights and monsters, of kings and queens, stories of joy and sadness, of life and death, stories of biggest treasures, legendary creatures, stories of star crossed lovers, adventurers, like himself. Some of them were meant to fill people with joy, with hope, always ending happily and some others, filled with tragedies, despair, bringing nothing but tears.

And some of the stories had to end before they even had a chance to start.

Was their story meant to be one of those?

One of those dreams never coming true, the craving that was never meant to be fulfilled?

Mal sighed heavily, leaning against the window and looking through it absentmindedly, seeing nothing but dark silhouettes of trees and bushes of the palace garden. He couldn't say what time was exactly, but he could feel in his bones that they were closer to the dawn than he'd like to admit. Because dawn meant saying goodbye, dawn meant having the ritual, dawn meant the start of another day, the one that was meant to be the end of their adventure. And most importantly, the dawn meant parting with her.

Mal swallowed hard, resisting the urge to turn around and look at the girl still sleeping in the bed. They had spent an amazing night together, being as close as ones can be. And then they fell asleep, wrapped in each other's embrace, until he woke up, in the middle of the night, haunted by things he had said, haunted by words that had slipped from his mouth.

What the hell gotten into him that made him share his most guarded secrets just like that?

Where did this stupid urge to tell her everything came from? What loosened his tongue so much, that he told her every single craving of his heart, sharing the most intimate hope of having a home, of having a family one day? Yes, every single word he had said was true. But why the hell did he admit to it all, knowing damn well that it will never happen? Not in this life anyway.

The frown on his forehead deepened, even more, when his eyes stopped on his wrist, where his black tattoo seemed to be mocking him, the dark mark reminding him of his past, the past he would never be able to get rid of, the reminder of who he really was and who he always will be.

A criminal. A petty thief, breaking the law again and again and again.

It was his life since he was six years old and he never knew the other way to live. Born in poverty, raised by scums and thieves, he had learned the harsh way of living on the streets, having to fight for being able to live through yet another day. Home? Family? Future? Those words were erased from his vocabulary a long time ago, the vision and hope long gone, when he had to live from day to day, giving up all the stupid childish dreams he had always have.

But she... She had to storm into his life and change it all, hadn't she?

He had no idea that their paths will ever cross again when he first met her in the village, well, when she literally bumped into him and then shamelessly started to flirt with him. But did he mind? Not at all. He was kind of used to it, he practiced his charm throughout the years and he knew what kind of effect he always had on girls. And she was just another pretty face, with a charming smile, shamelessly checking him out. He even turned around to shoot her a second glance, his lips rising in his usual smirk before he shook his head and brought himself back to reality, remembering he had another treasure to get.

But fate works in a mysterious way, isn't it? Someone would call it dumb luck, some others the pure coincidence, but Mal liked to believe there was a hand of fate that pushed Mephala onto the same path as he was. The hand of fate which meant to show him that there was still something else for him, that there was still more to crave from life, another treasure he could get, so different from boxes full of gold he was so used to stealing. Every day they spent together, made Mal fell for her more and more. Because how could he not? She was smart, witty, fearless, and constantly keeping him on his toes, and all of this with the huge, charming grin on her face she was shooting him whenever she could. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and Mal was trying so hard to not think about the end of the journey, the big final of the biggest adventure of their lives, the big moment of goodbye that was waiting for them.

But... Here they were.

The last night, the last morning, the last day before they will go separate ways, saying goodbyes and knowing they will probably never meet again. Unless...

Unless he'd ask her to stay.

For a moment his heart started to beat faster in his chest, just at the thought of it, pictures suddenly flooding his mind at the mere thought. He and she, holding hands and walking through the streets of Whitetower, laughing, smiling, stealing kisses from each other, being so incredibly, so stupidly happy. Maybe he'd take her to that one forgotten old cottage at the edge of the city, the one that was his hideaway when he was younger, an old house with holes in the roof, yet the place he always dreamt would be his real home one day, a home filled with laughter, warmth, the smiles of his loved ones and the delicious smell of the best food cooked by his beloved wife. This vision which was slowly forgotten throughout the years and the vision that suddenly crept into his mind again, but this time the wife he was always imagining, was finally having a face...

Mal turned around, almost unconsciously and his gaze laid upon the sleeping figure of Mephala, wrapped in the blankets and still deep in her sleep. She was breathing peacefully, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of her breaths, a few hair strands falling onto her face, her hand tucked under her cheek when she was snuggling the pillow. Mal moved his sight across her and the frown on his face disappeared, his lips rising in a soft smile at the sight in front of his eyes.

Her face.

Whenever he allowed his thoughts to wander, whenever he let hope crept into his heart again, whenever his visions were flooding his mind, she was always there, with him.

Would she say yes? Would she agree to stay?

He turned away from her and moved a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. And when he was lowering his arm, his eyes found the tattoo again, now feeling like it was burning his skin there, once again reminding him of who he truly was and what he could never have. His hands curled into fists and his jaw clenched when Mal resisted the urge to punch the window in front of him. She deserved life without worries, full of happiness and laughter, filled with prosperity and wealth. She's been through enough, having to live without parents, losing her brother to the dark magic of Shadow Court, having to fight with the enemies, almost losing her life...

She deserved everything.

And he could give her nothing.

He clenched his fists, even more, his knuckles whitening now, when he looked at the weak reflection of his face in the window. He was a thief, a pathetic loser with no past and with no future, just a criminal like many others. What kind of life could she have with him? Life of hiding? Life on the run? A life where they would always have to look over their shoulders to make sure no one is following them, no one wants to kill them? Life of uncertainty, a life of fear and life of being afraid to pass a guard on the streets, a life where you have to look down and never look them in the eyes, being scared that they would recognize you and throw you into dungeons? It would never be living. It would be barely surviving.

And she deserved so much more... So much more than he could ever give her...

So deep in his own thoughts, he didn't hear a subtle noise of bed creaking, the soft sound of bedding being shifted, and the silent sigh coming from behind his back.

Mephala was sure he would hear her, that his ear so used to picking up even the slightest noise will make him alert almost immediately, but to her surprise, not a single muscle in his body moved, even when she raised her head and propping herself on her left elbow, she sighed, her eyes moving across his silhouette. Almost immediately she could tell just how tense he was, his shoulders raised slightly, his back straightened almost unnaturally, his hands curled up into fists, accenting the outline of muscles on his arms. And the way he was leaning against the window...

Mephala bit her lower lip, resisting the urge to call out his name, not brave enough to interrupt the little moment he had with his own thoughts. Yet at the same time, she couldn't stop the worry that appeared in her thoughts, that heavy feeling in her chest, making her unable to properly catch a deep breath when one look at this tense body made her forehead frown.

What could have happened?

Was he tormented by the fact that it was probably their last night together? Was it because he, just like her, was well aware of the fact that tomorrow they will have to say their goodbyes and they will never see each other again? Was it the anxious feeling in his chest at the unknown, the fear of not being able to predict how the ritual will go, the same fear and uncertainty filling his body just like in her chest? Or maybe... Just maybe... He was regretting everything?

Mephala swallowed hard, telling herself to stop thinking that way. After all, why would he regret anything? They worked together perfectly, for the last weeks they became practically inseparable, which of course met with a lot of jokes at their expense from the rest of the group.

But she regretted nothing.

Mal was so different from the other men she had met in her life. Not only because he was a wanted man, a thief that was well known in more cities than just a Whitetower, not only because he was a flirt, a casanova telling way too many stories about the women he had slept with, not only because he was a snarky charmer. But because he was so much more.

And so much like her.

Thirsty for adventures, having to grow up way too soon, being robbed of a proper childhood, where he had to learn how to survive in this cruel world, without parents, without support, being capable of counting only on himself.

At least she was lucky enough to have Kade.

But he was all alone. He could pretend that he didn't care at all, about everything or everyone but she knew it was all because he cared too much. But could she blame him? Raised in the poorest part of the town, lost her mother while he was still a child, and life made him make hard choices, doing everything he had to survive. He could still pretend nothing counted in his life but what he had told her today, about family, about having a home one day... It was the only moment of weakness he could allow himself for, the first time in forever he had his heart on his sleeve, admitting to the biggest cravings of his heart, always hidden so deep. Was it because he knew they will never meet again? And he knew he can tell her everything, without being embarrassed lately? Was it because he couldn't hide it anymore? Or was it...

Because he had hoped they can share that future?

She could feel her cheeks getting red just at the mere thought of this, the hope filling her heart even though she tried so hard to stop it from happening.

But how could she when for such a long time just the mere closeness of him was making her heart soar?

If someone would ask her when did it happen, or how did it happen, she could never put a finger on a proper day or a moment. Was it that moment of their dance in the middle of the forest, when they thought they joined a fairy party? Was it their first kiss, so full of longing, so full of passion, so unexpected, yet so welcomed? Or was it the evening they spent together in the elvish wine cellar, drinking, laughing, kissing? Or was it much, much earlier? Maybe she will never be able to tell for sure, maybe she'd never know how the hell did that happen, but at least now she was certain of her feelings.

Finally, she was brave enough to admit she fell for him.

Yes. She fell for Mal the Magnificent, the charmer, the casanova, the adventurer, the thief, and the most caring, kind, and thoughtful man she has ever met in her life. Of course, it took her some time to realize that, weeks to finally admit in front of herself that it wasn't only having fun together, that it was becoming something else. And it took more weeks to finally make her realize just how much he meant for her, just how much he had changed in her life, opening her eyes, making her realize how much there was to still see, how much to discover, how much to do. She had always thought that her life was meant to finish in the same village she grew up, surrounded by the same people, every day being the same as always. But he showed her that it didn't have to be that way, he showed her there was a full life ahead of her, the life she could choose, the life just like she had always dreamt to have. And now...

Now she wanted to do the same thing for him.

When he told her about his past, about the mother he had lost, about the family and home he always craved, she wanted nothing more than to give it all to him. One would say that he chose this way of life for himself, that he is to blame for his misfortune and life on the run. But Mephala wasn't one of them. She knew, she understood, that sometimes life we had wasn't the one we would choose for ourselves. But the way his eyes lit up when he was talking about having a family, the way his lips raised in a shy smile at the thought of having his own home, not having to run anymore, not having to hide from others, that's when she saw the real Mal, the one even he was sure never existed anymore. She would never admit just how fast her heart was beating when he was sharing his deepest secrets with her, she would never say out loud just how honored and good she felt when he decided that he trust her enough to share this deep secret with her, she would never forget the way this strange warmth spread across her body when he looked at her, this incredible longing and softness in his eyes, when he smiled sadly, his eyes moving across her face.

And that's when she realized.

That she wanted to give him all of this.

She wanted to be his home, she wanted to be his family, she wanted to just be there for him, be there when he wakes up, be there when he falls asleep, be there when he would need her, sharing the worries with him, holding his hand to give him strength, planting a soft kiss to his forehead, letting him know, without the words, that she is always there for him. Her gaze moved across his back and the smile that was lifting her lips in a smile disappeared, her forehead frowning once again.

She wanted to give him everything. But was he ready to do the same for her?

No matter how much they came close to each other, no matter how much Mal allowed her to see the real him, sometimes she still felt like she didn't know him at all. All of them had their secrets, even her, still hiding some of the things from her past deep inside her. And he... He was like a chest of treasures, surrounded by traps, guarded by a heavy lock, thick, high walls being put up around him, hiding what's the most precious deep inside and never allowing anyone to see what was inside. And no matter how much she wished for him to raise the lid, to open up and show the true self – she knew he never would. He spent too many years learning how to be a different person, too many years learning how not to care, how not get hurt, how to live on the run, not caring about anyone or anything. Too many years for her to change it over just a few weeks...

No matter how much she wished to.

She wasn't sure for how long she was laying there, just watching him, her thoughts restless, until suddenly Mal turned around and his eyes widened with shock at the sight of her, eyes wide opened and never leaving the gaze off him.

„Kit..." He said, his voice barely a whisper, when he took a step closer towards her bed, „Did I wake you up?"

„Not really. Couldn't sleep anyway.” She shrugged.

„Thinking about the ritual tomorrow?"

„Mhmm...” She murmured, looking back from him, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. And she hated herself for that, she hated herself for not having enough courage to admit to her true feelings, to admit what she was thinking about.

Mal took another step towards the bed, moving his longing gaze across her body. She was laying on her left side, propped on her elbow, her brown hair falling in soft waves on her bare shoulders and chest, her dark eyes shining in the dim room and he realized with all its might just how lucky he was to have her, here, with him.

It was their last night together, last time they could spend in each other arms, last minutes before the dawn will come and they will have to get ready for the ritual. And last moment together, before they will go separate ways, probably never seeing each other again. Mal finally reached the bed and with a sigh he sat down on it, turning his head to look at the girl next to his side. His gaze moved, starting at the height of her hips, moving higher, across her waist, the outline of her body so visible, covered by nothing but the thin fabric of the quilt she was covered with. He stopped for a moment and then moved his sight higher, through her chest, her bare shoulders, until finally he stopped on the tempting arch of her lips, now parted just so slightly. He swallowed hard, suddenly remembering the taste of her kisses, the way her lips fitted with his, meeting so often this night and it took all of his willpower to look away from them.

And then his eyes finally met hers.

He could try to hide it, push all of the emotions deep inside him, pretending they were never there in the first place. But he could never betray her, not anymore. His eyes, full of longing got lost in hers, showing her every single emotion, every single thought he was dealing with at that moment. Sadness, that this, them being here, together, will have to end in just a few hours; fear of what was about to come, the future still uncertain when they couldn't know what will happen during the ritual; pain, of knowing that they will never be, that their story was ending before it even had a chance of properly beginning and the longing, when he wanted nothing more than to grab her into his arms, kiss her, pretend that nothing else existed and just stay with her, here, forever. And in her eyes, those beautiful, brown eyes, the ones he could stare into forever, he saw the mirror reflection of all of his emotions, now coming to the surface when she decided to open up for him entirely, not being able to hide it anymore, knowing that with him she won't ever have to be afraid of being vulnerable.

„Everything will be okay," Mal said suddenly.

For a moment Mephala wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself, his voice too silent to hear any kind of emotion in it. She was already opening her mouth to answer him, but then she closed them and straightened up instead, moving closer to him. Without a word she reached out to him, grabbing his hand into hers and pressing a kiss to the top of it.

„Everything will be okay.” She repeated after him, barely, just barely raising corners of her lips into a weak smile, the only one she was capable of creating.

He must have noticed the change on her face, he must have realized that her smile was not sincere at all, yet in this situation, he was taking whatever he could.

„Mephala, I..." He freed his hand from her grip and instead covered her palm with his. „No matter what will happen tomorrow, no matter what will happen... to... us..." His voice almost unnoticeable became softer when he spoke the last word. „I want you to know..." He hung up his voice for a moment. „I am happy I could share this adventure with you. There's no one else I'd rather live through all those dangers we had encountered."

„You're only saying that because I saved your pretty face from drakna," Mephala smirked.

„Pretty face, you say?” He raised his eyebrow and Mephala hit his arm, rolling her eyes.

„I take it back.”

He snorted with amusement before reaching out to her, his hand grabbing a few strands of her hair and slowly putting it behind her ear, his eyes never looking back from her face.

„But I meant what I say. I don't know if this was fate or just luck, but... I am happy I met you."

„And I am happy I met you.” She smiled to him, this time with sincerity, corners of her lips lifting happily.

Mal smiled, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, first on her left hand, then on her right one. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned down, slowly, another kiss landing in the middle of her forehead. And then another one, pressed to the top of her nose, his lips lingering there way too long, wanting nothing more to slip lower and kiss her right where he wanted to most. His gaze dropped, stopping at the height of her lips and he knew just how bad idea it was. Getting the taste of her, once again, when he knew she will be gone in a few hours when he knew that this will only make their goodbye harder.

But he could not resist.

Without hesitation anymore he grabbed her face into his hands and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. Slowly, sweetly at first, soon his kisses grew more urgent, his mouth moving almost with desperation against hers when he knew that it's probably the last time he was kissing her. Yet she was answering him with the same thirst, the same desperation. Throwing her arms around his neck she pulled him closer, her mouth parting slowly, letting him in, the force of his kisses making her gaps.

Mal pulled her closer, one hand on her waist, the other behind her neck when he dipped his fingers into her hair, gently laying her down onto the soft pillows. Mephala closed her eyes and melted into his arms, consumed by the kiss. She could only give in to all of this, give in to him, her fingers tucked into strands of his hair when she wanted to get rid of every existing space between them. His lips were kissing her over and over again, never wanting to stop, hers responding hungrily when Mephala tightened her hold on him. He wanted that moment to last forever, they both wanted it, her body locked in his arms, her hands around his neck and she, warm, soft, melting in his arms, responding to his fervent kisses.

Until Mal finally pulled away from her, reluctantly, knowing that the time has come. Yet he was still unable to move away from her, his body hovering over hers, their eyes locked onto each other, her cheeks pink and her lips swollen, all from his kisses. She reached out to him, her hand gently brushing away strands of hair from his forehead and a soft smile appearing on her face, when she moves her gaze across his face, almost like she was trying to remember every single detail of it.

"I will never forget you, Mal Volari." She whispered, her fingers brushing the skin on his cheek.

“And I will never forget you, Mephala Morrell.” He answered, silently, softly.

They were laying like this for a long moment, with no words anymore, just their eyes locked onto each other, at this moment saying much more than mouth ever could. And both of them, with the same cravings in their hearts, both of them wanting to ask the same question, so simple, so innocent, yet the one they both were too afraid to ask, to speak out loud, too afraid of the answer, too afraid of consequences.

“We should get ready...” Mal sighed finally, still unable to move away from her.

“It's not even dawn yet.”

“I know. I just...” He didn't finish his thought, his eyebrows furrowing in a grimace of pure pain.

Why was it so hard?

Why couldn't he just get up and leave the room? Since the beginning, he knew that it will come to this at some point... So why was it still so damn hard?

“Stay...” Mephala whispered. “Stay with me, Mal... Till the dawn...”

He said nothing, he could not say a single word. Instead, he just nodded, falling onto the mattress and opening his arms for her. Without a word Mephala laid her head on his arm, pressing herself to him, placing her right hand onto his chest, now slowly rising and falling with the rhythm of his breaths. A small smile wandered on her face and then she closed her eyes, for this one blessed moment forgetting about everything, focusing only on the man right next to her.

Mal looked down at her hand in the middle of his chest and after a second of hesitation, he grabbed it, lacing his fingers with hers, letting out a ragged breath when he felt his heart doing a weird leap inside his chest at this simple gesture. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple and closed his eyes, thinking that no matter what was about to happen, Mephala was right about one thing. If they were meant to part tomorrow, forever, they should prolong this moment as much as they could. He looked down at her closed eyes, her face finally peaceful when she snuggled closer to him, her warm breath tingling skin on his chest. His right arm closed tighter around her and Mal pulled her closer to his body.

Even if this moment was meant to last only for a few minutes longer...

#mal x mc #mal volari x mc #blades of light and shadow #Choices Fanfiction #choices fanfic #choicessawrites #choicessafanfic #angst #of course there had to be angst #because what else could my brain possibly come up with #so here you go #and whoops #my hand slipped #sorry for how long this is

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alynawatchestv · 4 years

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Alyna watches Xena - 01x01 Sins of the Past

Beware. For the road is long and full of spoilers… I mean, if a 25 years old show can be spoiled. But fair warning.

This thing here was supposed to be short but I made a very long recap of the episode. Sorry not sorry, I’m gonna be making recaps of the series. Yes, every single episode… Not regularly... And it's gonna be long.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated. 👍👍👍

And it��s really one of the best moments of a pilot, because we’re shown flashback of the attack so even without watching Hercules and meeting Xena there we can see she used to be a bad bitch. So before leaving she gives the kid some bread and cheese so he could hide in his burned house and eat something before he dies of some sickness, gets killed, is eaten by wild animals in search for food etc. Brilliant plan boy, you’re a prodigy.

*rule #1 - wash your weapons from enemies intestines*

*Carless Whisper saxophone solo intensifies*

Because frankly, who wouldn’t be? I know I had the same reaction to Gabrielle so I get Xena. I totally get it.

In a time of ancient gods, warlords… Well, you know it.

*seriously Draco…*

*9/10 parents wouldn't recommend this as an educational tool*

*Lila being a supportive sister*

But Draco is plotting against Xena. He decides to attack Amphipolis and pretend it was Xena who told him to do it. Plot thickens, you guys.

C: “How’s the young thing like you is gonna kill Xena?”

G: “That’s the point. She’d never let a man get close enough to do her. At least not that kind of do her. But a young, innocent looking girl like me, I’ll catch her totally off guard…

*You sure will, Gabrielle. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)*

*They’ve known each other for like 1 hour and we get those looks already? So straight indeed*

After the fight Xena is preparing to leave when Cyrene shows up and hugs Xena, who asks again for forgiveness and is, of course, given that. It's a truly awesome moment in this pilot.

*couldn't find gif so you're stuck with bad screenshot*

And in the morning we see Xena and Gabrielle travelling to new adventures to right wrongs, drink wine and… Oh forget it.

10/10

Edit: I got the gif. Thanks @girl4music :)

*there’s nothing gay here. nada. zero... mhm...*

#xena warrior princess #xena #xena and gabrielle #lucy lawless #renee o'connor #alyna watches xena

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ninjacupcakelover200 · 4 years

Text

Chapter One

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away, but she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. Once hearing that the young prince laughed within the woman's face and he dismissed her again. The old woman's ugliness started to melt away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince was completely shocked and tried to beg for her forgiveness, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love within his heart. The young prince soon started to yell out in pain as he was ripping away at his shirt. As punishment, the prince's back a outline of a large black clawed paw had transformed onto his upper right shoulder blade. Filled hate and mixture of anger because of his new growing pain on his back. Ashamed of being embarrassed by the enchantress, the young prince had concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The tattoo that was engraved on the young prince was truly an enchanted tattoo, which would fully be faded in by the time of his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return by the time the tattoo was fully colored in, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to have the aching pain of the tattoo for the rest of his life. As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a Dragon King like him?

~♡♡♡♡~

Little town It's a quiet village Every day Like the one before Little town Full of little people Waking up to say

Bonjour bonjour Bonjour bonjour bonjour

There goes the baker with his tray, like always The same old bread and rolls to sell Every morning just the same Since the morning that we came To this poor provincial town

“Good morning, (Y/n).” the baker called out to the girl. She smiled and waved back to the older male. “Good morning, monsieur Jean. Have you lost something again?” she asked him as she walked over to him. “Well, I believe I have. Problem is, I've, I can't remember what.” he said to her. (Y/n) chuckled a little and nodded her head hearing as he said this. “Oh well, I'm sure it'll come to me. Where you off to?” he asked her. “To return this book to Pere Robert, it's about to lovers in fair Verona.” she said to him as she waved bye and started to walk away. “Sounds boring.” the baker whispered to himself.

Look there she goes, that girl is strange, no question Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?

Never part of any crowd 'Cause her head's up on some cloud No denying she's a funny girl that, (Y/n)

Bonjour, good day How is your family? Bonjour, good day How is your wife? I need six eggs That's too expensive! There must be more than this provincial life!

“Ah, If it isn't the only bookworm in town! So, where did you run off to this week?” the bookkeeper teased as he looked to the young girl walking in. “Two cities in Northern Italy. I didn't want to come back! Have you got any new places to go?” the girl asked with a smile. “I'm afraid not. But you may re-read any of the old ones that you'd like.” the bookkeeper said to her. She smiled and rushed over to grab the book she had read thousand times. “Your library makes our small corner of the world feel big.” she said to the bookkeeper with a smile. He chuckled a bit and waved bye to her as she started to leave. “Bon voyage.” they said to one another.

Look there she goes, that girl is so peculiar I wonder if she's feeling well With a dreamy, far-off look And her nose stuck in a book What a puzzle to the rest of us is, (Y/n)

Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because you'll see Here's where she meets Prince Charming But she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three!

Now it's no wonder that her name means Beauty Her looks have got no parallel

But behind that fair facade I'm afraid she's rather odd Very different from the rest of us

She's nothing like the rest of us Yes, different from the rest of us is, (Y/n)!

"Look at her, Tetsutetsu. My future wife. (Y/n) is the most beautiful girl in the village. That's makes her the best." Monoma said with a bit of a smirk as he looked to (Y/n). Tetsutetsu simply chuckled hearing as Monoma said this. "But she's so well-read. And you're so athletically-inclined." Tetsutetsu said as he looked to Monoma. "I'll agree with she's so well read part but Monoma isn't 'athletically-inclined'." Itsuka mumbles under her breath. "Yes, ever since the war, I felt like I've been missing something. She's the only girl that ever given me that sense of." Monoma said as he still looked to (Y/n).

Mmm je ne sais quoi?

I don't know what that means

Right from the moment when I met her, saw her I said she's gorgeous and I fell Here in town there's only she Who is beautiful as me So I'm making plans to woo and marry (Y/n)

Look there he goes Isn't he dreamy? Monsieur Gaston Oh, he's so cute! Be still my heart I'm hardly breathing He's such a tall, dark, strong and handsome brute!

Bonjour, pardon Good day, mais oui! You call this bacon, what lovely flowers Some cheese, ten yards, one pound, excuse me I'll get the knife Please let me through! This bread, those fish, it's stale, they smell! Madame's mistaken Well, maybe so

There must be more than this provincial life!

Just watch, I'm going to make (Y/n) my wife!

Look there she goes the girl is strange, but special A most peculiar mademoiselle!

It's a pity and a sin She doesn't quite fit in

'Cause she really is a funny girl A beauty but a funny girl She really is a funny girl That (Y/n)

"Hello, (Y/n)." Monoma said as he smirked to the said girl. " Bonjour Monoma." (Y/n) said as she started to walked past him. She was too busy reading her book to even spare a glance over to Monoma. Monoma sighed and quickly grabs the book from (Y/n) grip.(Y/n) gasped in shocked and turned to look at Monoma. Happy that he finally got her attention he looked from the book and back to her. "Monoma, may I have my book, please?" the girl asked as she went to take the book back. Monoma quickly held it above his head and away from her reach.

"How can you read this? There's no pictures!" he said to her with a slight chuckle. "Well, some people use their imaginations." she said to him. "That is if they have any." she mumbled to herself as she glared to Monoma. Monoma sighed and looked to (Y/N) as he still held the book. "(Y/n), it's about time you got your head out of those books" he said as he tossed the book into the mud pile near them. "and paid attention to more important things...like me! The whole town's talking about it." Monoma said to her. "What do you mean by it?" she growled to him.

After asking the question (Y/n) was quick to go over to the mud pile and pick up the book and start cleaning off the mud from it. "It's not right for a woman to read--soon she starts getting ideas... and thinking." Monoma said to her. "What's that suppose to mean? Women aren't allowed to get ideas and can't think about things?" she asked him as she walked up to him. "Is it because men are so much better than women?" she asked him. He smirked a bit hearing the question. "In certain fields. Such as hunting, gathering, and providing for the family. Women are better off at home and taking care of the household." Monoma said to her. (Y/n) shook her head hearing as he said this and then harshly jabbed her finger into Monoma's chest. "Monoma, you are positively primeval." she said to him.

Monoma just chuckled a bit as he wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s shoulders. "Why thank you, (Y/n). Hey, whaddya say you and me take a walk over to the tavern and have a look at my hunting trophies." Monoma said to her with a smirk. (Y/n) shook her head no at his statement. "Maybe some other time." she said to him. "Oh come on (Y/n). It'll be fun." he begged her with a smile. "I'm sorry, Monoma but I can't. I'm too busy today. I have to get home and help my father before my brother leaves." (Y/n) said to him.

"Ha ha ha, that dorky big brother of yours? He needs all the help he can get!" Monoma said with a bit of a laugh. "Monoma! Stop it!" Itsuka said as she glared at him. "Don't you dare talk about my brother that way!" (Y/n) said glaring to Monoma. Monoma stopped laughing and faked a glare to Tetsutetsu . "Yeah, don't talk about her brother that way!" Monoma said to as he smacks Tetsutetsu upside the head. "I didn't even say anything." Tetsutetsu mumbled as he held the back of his head. "My brother's not dorky! He's smart! He's a genius!" (Y/n) said glaring at Monoma As (Y/n) finished saying this there was a explosion off in background. Everyone looks to where the sound had came from before Monoma started to laugh once again. (Y/n) sighs before she rushes home. "Oh no. Not again." she mumbled as she descends into the basement.

"Shinso ?" (Y/n) called out as she went down into the basement. "How on earth did that happen?" Shoto asked himself as he started to fan away the smoke within the area.. "Oh Shinso !" (Y/n) whispers to herself before she rushes over to him. Shinso looks up hearing his sister's voice. Shoto smiles to her and starts to pull the barrel off his waist, along with his pants. "Shinso!" (Y/n) yelled to him before she looked over. "Are you two all right?" (Y/n) and Shinso heard a voice call down to them. "We're fine, Papa." (Y/n) called back to the voice. (Y/n) then walked over to his brother. "What did I tell you about blowing up the basement all the time?" (Y/n) said as she wiped some smoke off of her brother's face. He chuckled a bit and tried to stop her. "I was just doing some last minute touches." Shinso said to her. She just shook her head. Soon before of them looked up hearing sets of footsteps come down the stairs for the basement. "What happened down here?" Aizawa asked looking at Shinso and (Y/n).

Shinso sighed and looked to the invention he was working on for the longest time. "I'm about ready to give up on this hunk of junk!" Shinso said out to his family. Shinso then kicked his machine. "You always say that." Eri said as she trailed right behind Aizawa. "I mean it, this time. I'll never get this boneheaded contraption to work." Shinso said with a bit of a sigh. "Yes, you will. And you'll win first prize at the fair tomorrow." (Y/n) said as she patted her brother on her back. "Hmmmph!" Aizawa said as he and Eri walked (Y/n) and Shinso. "And become a world famous inventor!" Eri said with a smile. Eri then walked over to her older brother and sister. Giving her older sister a hug with a smile on her face. "You really believe that?" Shinso asked as he started to wipe the smoke from his face.

"We always have." (Y/n) and Eri said together with smiles on their face. "Well, what are we waiting for. I'll have this thing fixed in no time." Shinso said with smile as she got down and slide under the machine once again. "Hand me that dog-legged clencher there." Shinso said. (Y/n) was quick to walk over and grab the tool her brother need. "So, did you have a good time in town today?" Aizawa asked looking over at (Y/n). "I got a new book." (Y/n) said as she started to think about what happened this morning. "Papa, do you think I'm odd?" (Y/n) asked looking at her father. This caused Shinso to slide out from under his machine and look to his sister. "My daughter? Odd?" Aizawa asked looking at (Y/n).

"Where would you get an idea like that?" Shinso asked looking at his sister. "Oh, I don't know. It's just I'm not sure I fit in here." (Y/n) said as she sighed a bit. "There's no one I can really talk to." (Y/n) said looking to them. "Don't say that, (Y/n)." Eri said to her. "What about that, Monoma? He's handsome!" Monoma said with a wink to his sister. "Ew! Don't let me ever hear you say that again." Shinso said to Eri. Aizawa and (Y/n) chuckled a bit hearing this. "He's handsome all right, and rude and conceited and...Oh, he's just not for me!" (Y/n) said to her family. "Well, no little sister of mine will have to marry any guy she doesn't like. So don't you worry, cause this invention's going to be the start of a new life for us." Shinso said to his family. He comes out from under machine once again. "I think that's done it. Now, let's give it a try." Shinso said as he stands up from the ground.

The machine whirs and chops some wood that was propped up, just as it should. "It works!" the family cheered in joy as they looked to it.

Next Chapter

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love-fireflysong · 4 years

Text

Day 12: Drink

Fandom: Tales of Phantasia Character(s): Cress Albane, Mint Adenade, Chester Burklight, Arche Klein, Claus F. Lester, Suzu Fujibayashi Words: 4615 Rating: Teen (Alcohol, Major Character Death) Author’s Notes: Not all Until Dawn this week baby, gotta mix it up a little! That being said, this one is an idea I’ve had stewing in my head for close to six years now, ever since I first discovered these characters in Tales of Graces and read the plot outline online. So enjoy!

Taryon Voss had been running the Euclid Inn and Tavern for close to thirty years now, his mother the fifty before that, and her father was the one to take it over from the Nerim family before she had been born. So to say that this building was the family’s pride and joy won’t be too off the mark. It had been his home, his first and only job, and he, like the rest of the family, had put his blood, sweat, and tears into making it the town center that it was.

Because of that, Taryon knew every single person in town, so when two blond haired kids wandered in asking for where they could find one Claus F. Lester, it had been a shock. Not because he didn’t know Claus, everyone knew of that eccentric coot, but because he didn’t recognize the kids asking. Now, he knew that people from nearby Belladam Village and Hamel tended to stop here to buy and trade goods, but these kids were different. They just didn’t look right.

The boy was wearing some armor; dented, scuffed, and bloody from the beasts they would have had to battle outside the village to make it here, and his red cape was slightly torn at the bottom edge. The girl meanwhile, was wearing white robes stained with blood, dirt, and grass, and on the front of the robe was a sigil he had never seen before. Both were tired and refused rooms when he offered, insistent that they meet Claus. Knowing that they would be back soon anyway, Taryon had given them directions to Claus’s house in the north and went back to work.

To his surprise, not only did they show up much later in the evening then he would have expected, but it was with Claus in tow. Claus almost never came into the tavern, he tended to stay shut up in his own house with his books and Milard. Instead, he got found the three of them a table and he flagged down one of the waitresses (Taryon’s daughter Vivian) and ordered three flagons of ale for them. Taryon never heard any of the conversation, spoke in hushed tones, though he did catch the word’s ‘Lone Valley’ and ‘spirit’ once or twice. But after the three of them had finished their drinks and a promise to meet up in the morning, the two kids payed for a room for the night and that was the end of it.

The kids left the next morning bright and early and he never saw Claus after that either, but that wasn’t so unusual. As mentioned before, the man was a recluse of sorts and a known nutjob, always going on and on about how humans could use magic if only we could make pacts with the spirits. Crazy talk obviously, everyone knew that only elves and half-elves could use magic.

He saw the kids again though, not long after the news had reached Euclid that the Kingdom of Midgards had managed to beat back Dhaos’s army. They came in just as scuffed and bloody as the first time, though this time they were accompanied by a just as tired looking and scratched Claus, and a young half-elf with the pinkest hair he had ever seen. Bringing them a round of drinks, and quite a few more for the half-elf as the night went one, they were joined by Mirald who sat with them and stole Claus’s own mug of ale.

The five of them spent the evening laughing and drinking with abandon, Milard and Claus acting like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks and the half-elf hanging off the blond boys arm, though he looked mighty uncomfortable about it. As the sky grew darker and the night chillier, he had had to let them know that if they were getting rooms to buy them now, otherwise he was closing for the night. The three younger ones paid for a room, the two blonde’s helping to carry their half-elf friend who was three sheets to the wind to bed, and Claus and Milard returned to their own home.

Taryon never saw the blonde kids again after that morning when they left. A week or so later, Claus wandered back in with the half-elf, Milard behind not far behind. They had ordered a round of drinks and sat down to just talk. About three or so drinks in, the half-elf just put her face down on the table and started bawling, the other two trying to help calm her down but doing little. Finally, they pay for their drinks and leave, taking the half-elf with them as they promise her a bed in their house for the night and she can leave to go see her father in the morning.

When he goes to clean the table off after they leave, he finds that they had left three flagons of ale and, curiously enough, a glass of chocolate milk undrank. After grumbling under his breath about wasteful customers, he cleans the table and puts the night, and kids, behind him.

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Vivian, or Vivi as her friends know her, loves her inn and bar very much. Or at least, her inn and brother’s bar, but everyone knows that she owns both and that her old man was just being stubborn in not giving it to her. Even Kendrick knows that, leaving the management of both to her and her wife Bianca, while he works on getting the the plans for the new inn built and designed.

She thinks she’s better at this then her old man ever was. He wasn’t the most personable sort of man, and she can butter anyone up in a heartbeat. Take Arche for example. The half-elf had been a regular here for years now, coming in every second Friday, often dragging Claus and sometimes Milard in with her. Arche had what most people would call a bubbly personality, and the rest annoying and childish. It was infectious really, anyone drinking with her would often be laughing by the end of the night. And if they were really, really lucky, would find themselves a little less lonely that night as well.

Vivi had been that person once or twice herself, before she met Bianca of course. Not that she hadn’t tried to push it further, but enough time with Arche had taught her that while the half-elf was all for fooling around, she wasn’t looking for anything serious.

She had learned too that there was one night a year where Arche and Claus would get a table alone. No Milard, no kids, nothing. On these nights they would order the same round of drinks once: five ales and a glass of chocolate milk. The two of them would seemingly reminisce over some important part of their life that was never explained, and leave after finishing a mug each. Leaving three full ales and that glass of milk.

Her old man had hated it. Tried to refuse them the service for not finishing their meal, but Vivi didn’t mind so much. It was obviously very important to them, and they always paid extra on those nights anyway.

As the years went on and Vivi got older, so too did Claus and Milard and their own kids, but Arche never did. Most times she would play this off, a little joke about wrinkles, one about old man stench that had Claus rolling in his seat, but it was obvious that it got to her. The week after her father died, she came in with Claus sobbing about how she didn’t want to lose anyone else, that it wasn’t fair. She hated the fact that she was going to outlive him, and Milard and all their kids and grandkids. Hated that she was going to outlive the others too after waiting so long to see them again.

Vivi never did find out who these others were.

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Jon was only 23 when he took over the Euclid Inn and Tavern, and his Aunt Vivi only 56 when she handed it to him. She was still as spry and quick with a wink as she had been ten years ago, but had told him that with the new Inn opening, it was time for new management. She would go out with the building built of logs, and he would come in with the foundations of stone and marble beneath him.

He was nervous though, why wouldn’t he be? Euclid was a bustling city of trade and commerce, the capital of the kingdom, and he was supposed to run the inn of it’s name and somehow not burn everything his family had built to the ground? It was a lot to say the least.

Thankfully, he did have the regulars to help him out. They had been around for years and knew how things were done almost better then he did. The Bardin twins had been coming around since before he was born, and while they showed up less and less, Arche and old man Lester were a common sight. Still, no matter the weather, or how old Claus got, the two of them would always show up for their round of drinks. They would find their table of six, place their drinks in each spot, and just talk and talk and talk.

Jon had been worried about the cost once, the inn was still so new in its new stone home, and he didn’t think he could afford the wasted drink. Aunt Vivi had cuffed him for that. It’s a small thing, she had told him. Makes them happy and they always pay double for it. Whats a little bit of ale you have to toss for happy, returning customers. And anyway, it wasn’t like they did this every night, it was only once a year and he could swallow the cost.

He could tell when old man Lester died, not from Arche splayed over the table weeping, but from the six drinks in front of her, and only one being drank out of.

He had figured that to be the end of it, maybe the last time he saw their bubblegum pink half-elf but she continued to come around. Every second Friday as she had when Aunt Vivi had run the place, a drink or two or seven in hand and sometimes joined by another person. She never brought anyone in with her, sometimes someone would just be brave enough to sit down at the table with her. Most times, she would allow this, a smile of her face and laugh in her voice.

But she also still continued the six drink ritual, even though she was the only one now. Paid triple the price too for it now. No one was allowed to join her those nights. Someone did try once or twice, decades separating the incident, and they had ended up on the floor with a broken nose and a screaming half-elf above them.

Those Friday nights were the best though, she would ask him about Judy, if the pregnancy was coming along alright, how were the twins holding up once they had been born (a pair of rascals as one would expect). Jon had asked her once about the strange little tradition. Her face had fallen a little and though she smiled, it was pained and he felt like he was intruding on a secret and was about to apologize when she told him that she was just waiting for some friends to show up.

Considering the fact that they never once showed up, he thinks she deserves some better friends.

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Basil and Saffron had always done everything together. They were born together, played together, and now ran the inn and tavern together. It was a 50/50 split though, as everything had been for them. No more, no less.

One night, Basil would run the inn side of the business, and Saffron the tavern. The next, they would switch. Saffron serving drinks while Basil made the beds. It was an odd system to be sure, but they made it work.

Some of the regulars would joke that they were in the wrong career, with names like theirs they should have gone into cooking or gardening, or running one of the grocery stores in the area. They would laugh of course, but the laughs would be slightly forced. This place was theirs, had always been theirs. They couldn’t think of a single thing they would rather be doing.

Miss Arche liked their names though. The first time she had met them, she had laughed when she found out. Not at them though, she had promised at their scowls. She had a couple of friends with names like theirs: Mint and Cress. That had perked them right up. They had asked if they could meet them, surely friends of Miss Arche would be super polite and friendly, just like she was. The smile had tightened though, and said that she wouldn’t be seeing them for a very, very long time still.

Miss Arche was one of their favourite customers.

She still came in every second Friday, just like she had for their father, and Great-Aunt Vivi, and even Great-Great Granddad Taryon. She was their longest and most loyal customer. And still looked not a day over 20 when she was close to a 100 by now. Perks of being half-elf she had winked at them, or more at Basil who had blushed profusely. Said that it came with few upsides, like being able to use magic and fly, but it got lonely sometimes.

Both of them agreed that Miss Arche shouldn’t be lonely so whenever she came in, one of them would pull double duty for the evening while the other sat with her and talked. They think she appreciated it, if they way she always lit up when one of them came over to her was any indication. They couldn’t sit with her all the time of course, but they tried whenever they could.

They knew not to sit with her on her Six-Drink nights though. Basil had tried though, just the once. He had walked up to her with her order of five ales and a chocolate milk and tried to sit down, but she had stopped him dead in his tracks. No anger on her face though. Just sadness. They learnt then that this was a night just for her, no one else.

They both apologized the next time Miss Arche came in, but she had brushed them off. Told them not to worry about it, and that they were welcome to join her any other night, just not that one. That night was special, it was for her to remember the past, and to dream of the future. Only five other people would ever be allowed to sit with her on those nights, and while she adored the two of them, they weren’t the right herbs.

Saffron understood then that she meant Mint, and Basil, Cress. Once again, they asked when she thought they would be by. She had laughed sadly at that, and told them that if they were lucky and lived for a very long time, that they might get to meet them one day.

Saffron died the month before Mint was born. Basil followed her shortly a year later. They never knew how close they had been to meeting who they considered to be their own personal heroes.

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Angela Voss remembered very well the party that the Klein girl had thrown one year. And the second and third barely a year after that. It had been chaos, pure and simple. The night had been quiet, peaceful even considering that she ran the oldest inn and tavern in Euclid. And then Klein had burst through the door, broom over her shoulder, and declared in a loud voice that all drinks that night were on her.

Angela had watched agog as she pulled a purse filled with gald out of nowhere and tossed it on the table. The rest of the night had been chaos, absolute chaos. She even ran out of ale that night and had send Henry to the next tavern over for more alcohol. At the end of the night, the area smelling more of ale than usual, she found Klein not quite passed out and crying at a table completely covered in empty mugs. Except, of course, for the four still completely full and the glass of chocolate milk. That must have been Henry, he was too soft on the half-elf by far, though it was far too early in the year for her wasteful tradition.

Klein was murmuring something under her breath. Something about how she was so close now, that she was tired of waiting. For them to just get their butts over here already. That she missed them. Angela just poked her with the handle of the mop and told her that she either had to get a room, or get out.

Unlike her mother and dear uncle, Klein was decidedly her least favourite customer.

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Henry didn’t own the bar yet, that was true, his mother was still alive and kicking after all, but he had taken it upon himself to at least try to run it. He loved his mother dearly, but it was a well-known fact that Angela Voss was more demon then angel, and him being the face of the tavern was helping to draw in new faces.

Like the family he was greeting now. A merchant family, all four of them with hair as blue as they sky outside, had come to bring a new shipment of ale for the tavern and cloth for the inn. The Burklight’s, as they had introduced themselves, paid for a couple of rooms at the inn while their son looked around the room, his hand clutching tight to his little sisters. He saw Arche pass through with a wave to the tavern side of things, it was a second Friday after all, only to stop suddenly. He watched confused as she turned to just stare in horror, and something else he couldn’t quite place, at the little boy. Henry tilted his head to ask if anything was wrong, but she was gone before he could.

He found her shortly after, crying softly with a smile on her face and whispering the word finally under her breath over and over again.

He would see the boy a few times over the years, once or twice with his sister, and often with a blond haired boy carrying a sword. He had once asked if they knew of a half-elf with pink hair, but both had just given him looks of such confusion that he never pried again.

The worst though, was one night. Arche had come in, tears streaming down her face and demanded to be served nothing but alcohol that night and not allowed to leave for anything. She spent the rest of the night at her usual table drowning herself in cup after cup, sobbing that she was sorry. It was all she said that night. Just sorry, over and over again. Even has her words became more slurred and her tears came harder as the night progressed.

He found out the next day that Toltus had been razed and very nearly burnt to the ground. That no one had survived the slaughter.

And then, a week later, she started spending every night at the tavern. She had been there for nearly a month, spirits as high as he had ever seen them, and paying for two rooms at the inn. She spent every single night at her table, the one with six seats, and ordered four ales every night. When asked why, she had simply explained that she was waiting for some friends to join her. He didn’t understand. She had always been waiting for friends, as long as she had been coming to the tavern. But Arche always got five ales and a chocolate milk for those friends. And this was only four.

And then one night, he did understand.

Henry watched as the door to the tavern opened and in walked the blue haired boy with his blond friend, and a cleric with them as well. It had nearly bowled him over to be honest, he had thought they had died in Toltus with the rest. The blue haired archer stood in the back, by the door, eyes scanning the place with a seriousness that surprised Henry as the blond soldier asked if he had seen a half-elf with pink hair around recently.

Before he could even answer, Arche had jumped on the back of the archer and with a yelp both of them had fallen to the ground. The two blond’s had turned and ran towards them, but Arche had already gotten up and had latched herself onto the cleric, sobbing something awful as she grabbed everyone else into a group hug and then dragging them over to her usual table. And watched as all of them grabbed a seat with no hesitation about where to sit, leaving two seats empty as if there was already someone sitting there.

He had been wrong it turned out. He had never seen her this happy. Ever. If her spirits had been high before, then this was astronomical in how cheery she was.

Without any prompting at all, Henry brought over the four ales and the four of them just started talking. Questions were being thrown around relentlessly. They were asking her what she had been up, how was Claus, she asked them how the reconstruction was going. They spent hours, all of them acting like they were seeing an old friend, though Henry had never once seen any of them together in the same room. It was weird.

Weirdest of all had been when Arche had looked over and asked for her Six-Drink special once conversation had started to die down. Confused, he brought it over and set it out. Watched as the cleric, who was the closest to one of the empty seats, set the chocolate milk there and the archer set the other ale at the empty seat next to him. With that, they made a silent toast, and drank their drinks. No fight from Arche for stealing the drinks like she always did. Instead acting like they had always been meant for them.

Drinks done, the soldier and cleric left the table, his hand on her back, and they both walked to the inn rooms upstairs, leaving only Arche and the archer at the table. Henry caught none of their conversation, foreheads pressed firmly together and speaking under their breaths, but by the way she kept gripping the sleeves of his shirt and he very firmly kept one hand on the back of her neck, he didn’t have to guess very hard.

Soon enough, they too retreated to the rooms upstairs and Henry went to go clear the table. And amongst all the of the empty mugs, he was unsurprised to find one full flagon of ale and a glass of milk.

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

Zephyr didn’t see a whole lot of Arche or Chester or Mint or Cress anymore. The four of them had become a package deal of sorts, where one went it was rare not to find the other three. She remembered back in her younger years, when her father ran the inn and tavern in Euclid, that Arche and the others used to stop by every second Friday. But as the years went on and the others got older, they had come by less and less. Going from the Fridays to once a month to only every couple of months. Arche still came in of course, now more often with kids in tow, and the four of them always made time for their Six-Drink night every year, but they four of them had all but stopped coming when Dhaos started attacking.

She hoped they were alright. Arche was still as spry as when Zephyr had been a child, but the other two were nearing 70 now and it worried her. Sure they knew how to fight, they all did, but still.

She was still deep in her thoughts when the door to the tavern opened. She turned, ready to greet the newcomers, only to have the words die in her throat. In front of her stood Arche who she recognized immediately, but she looked different and Zephyr couldn’t put her finger on why. With her was a man who wore the most ridiculous brown hat she had ever seen and and tattoos all over his face and body, and a young girl who couldn’t have been older then twelve. It was the other three who made her freeze though.

Standing there were Cress, Mint, and Chester looking like for all intents and purposes that they had been plucked straight of time from fifty years ago. There was no slouch in Cress’s shoulders, the cane he needed to walk with was gone. Chester’s hair hadn’t been that bright blue in nearly twenty years. And Mint stood unsure, gripping her staff in her hands, whereas the Mint she knew always stood tall and proud with that matronly smile on her face. Gone were the wrinkles and white hair and liver spots. Instead they stood fresh faced and eager.

Zephyr nearly keeled over from a heart attack at the sight.

The man wearing the hat walked up to her and asked for a couple of rooms for the night, as well as a round of drinks for them. They were celebrating Cress’s win in the arena it seemed. And when he gave his order, she almost dropped her tray. Five ales and a chocolate milk. With that, the six of them walked over and sat at Arche’s table, the one she had been using for nearly a hundred years now, and sat down in the configuration Zephyr had come to know over the years. Cress in the middle of Mint and Chester, Arche sitting across from her husband, and the little girl sitting right where the glass of milk was always placed and the man taking the only other empty seat between Arche and Chester.

They didn’t spend long there before moving to their rooms, But it was enough for Zephyr to convince herself that these were 100% the people she had known for years. Watching them interact was like simultaneously going back in time to when she was a little girl, peeking through her bedroom door at all the people having fun downstairs while her Daddy worked, and to just last month when the four of them had last come in for a visit. It was jarring and it was making her feel dizzy, so she called Norma over and went to go and lay down.

When she emerged a couple of hours later, they were all gone.

She saw the four of them again about a month later, Dhaos dead and gone and his castle destroyed. This time they were looking like they should have been, though the same little girl from earlier, Suzu they would introduce her as, accompanied them. They sat down at their table and ordered the Six-Drink special, and then returned to talking with Suzu like they hadn’t seen her in years.

When they left and Zephyr went to clean up the table, it was with a full mug, untouched and undrank, where the man with the hat had been sitting the month before.

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #tales of phantasia #arche klein #claus f lester #suzu fujibayashi #cress albane #mint adenade #chester burklight #archester #cress/mint #claus/milard #canon pairings really #only implied though #god #i cant believe i finished this one #super emotional right now

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insomnia-productions · 4 years

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UAF Secret Santa

Merry Christmas unreasonably attractive fandom! This is my Secret Santa gift to @herenya-sedai. You asked for Post-AMOL Mat dealing with a daughter who can channel, and, wow, did that open up a can of worms in my brain. I hope you enjoy this fic! It’s also on AO3, if you have a preference for platform <3

Nora, Nora

The first few months are the hardest. He sees them in the gardens, in the halls, in unfamiliar Seanchan streets, grey dresses swishing around thin ankles, silver bands making red rings around gaunt necks. They walk with their eyes lowered, lips pale and thin, betraying no emotion, followed, always, by tall pale women with cold faces, silver bracelets glinting under the harsh sun. Some of them are dark, others pale, some willowy and tall, others short and homely, but he sees one face on all of them: dark eyes, lips quirked just so, mouth opening to berate him, most likely, with the words of a harried mother despite the fact that she was the youngest of them all, always in such a hurry to grow up, growing up too fast, burning too bright until she burned out—

He left all that behind when he came to Seanchan, but it clings to him, still. His days are wide open and empty; Tuon has crushed the rebellions against her, but Seanchan politics are a web rivalled only by the White Tower itself and she spends her days fixed firm on her throne, Min rarely released from her side. There are no more battles to be fought. Mat feels himself fading, drifting into the background, a small piece of the scenery. He spends long hours wandering the city, studying the winding streets, acquainting himself with the taverns, memories flitting in and out of sight. Sometimes he drifts into an alley, or an alcove, or a dusty bazaar, and stands there for hours, dreaming of lives lived and long passed in this strange empire.

In his wanderings, he learns where they are kept. It’s a dark room, deep underground, walls studded with pegs holding gleaming bracelets. The new ones huddle in quivering groups on the cold floor. The old ones lie alone, eyes blank and dull, breaths so shallow they could almost be dead. It takes him a week, even with his luck, to find a way in: a tunnel from a bygone Age, forgotten by everyone in this generation, perhaps, but not by the men in his memories. He doesn’t use a torch, the first time, half-afraid of being caught, and as he creeps slowly through the dark, he wonders what Tuon would say.

He can’t do much. There are so many of them. He brings them sweetbreads and kaf, and it’s not enough. He brings them balms for their wounds and wine for their souls, and it’s not enough. He brings them stories of the outside world, of hope, of home, and it’s not enough, never enough. Most days, as he slips back into the darkness, he thinks all he can bring them is more disappointment.

On the third day of the eighth month, he lets one go. It is a foolish idea and he is not, contrary to popular belief, a fool, but she’s so young and scared, still with a spark of defiance in her large, dark eyes as she sits, unattended, in the garden, waiting for her sul’dam to collect her, and he’s done it before, knows how, and when he unlocks the necklace she smiles—

They catch her before dusk. They do not put the silver band back around her neck. When they are done with her, she has no neck to put it on.

Tuon is silent in court. She lets the girl’s sul’dam make the decision, and gives only an imperial shake of the head when asked if further inquiry is needed. Her eyes remain fixed on the girl throughout, never straying.

In the night, she comes early to the room they share. She sits there in bed, thin blankets pulled around her waist, back straight as the mast of a ship despite how large her stomach has grown, almost half her own size, it seems. It’s the first time he’s seen her by moonlight in weeks.

“Never do that again,” she says softly. “Remember that I will soon have my heir. I can kill you now, if I wish.”

Mat looks at her. He almost can’t see her eyes in the darkness. “Egwene told you—”

“The Amyrlin Seat was mistaken.” An edge of frost coats her words. “I know how to protect my people.”

“That girl wasn’t dangerous. She was barely a woman. In the Two Rivers she might not yet be allowed braids.”

Tuon’s voice softens, but her eyes are hard and cold. “You have a kind heart, Toy. I will forgive you this time.” Hard and cold—the eyes of one who was born with a crown already fixed on her head. “But never again.” She holds out a hand for him.

“Never again,” Mat echoes, and goes to her.

He passes the tunnel, sometimes, and there is a catch in his step before he keeps walking.

It’s raining the day everything changes—but a pleasant rain, if there is such a thing. It’s the kind of rain that reminds him of summer afternoons spent splashing through the creek, tearing newly bloomed wildflowers from trees, sticking them haphazardly in Perrin’s hair because the stems slid so smoothly between his curls and stuck. He watches the rain drip off the tiled cover above the window, falling heavily on petals in pink, yellow, and white. He watches for so long that he forgets the bouquet is getting soaked, but it doesn’t matter, because, when he hears the first cries, he jumps so hard he drops it out the window anyway.

He turns around, and there is Min, eyes wide, arms wrapped gingerly around a bundle of white, while on the bed Tuon sobs and laughs, for once too drained to keep composure. Mat walks to Min, takes the bundle into his arms. He looks down at a round face, brown in hue, eyes clenched shut, but he knows they will be the darkest brown. His daughter. His daughter.

It’s so terrifying a thought that he nearly drops the baby. Min catches his eye, grins, takes the child back and hands her off to Tuon’s waiting arms. Tuon looks at their daughter, and then at him, and, for once, smiles.

“You look frightened.”

“I never saw myself as a father,” Mat says, honestly. “I’m— I’m just— the village idiot.”

Min snorts. Tuon’s smile deepens.

“You are the greatest general that has ever lived,” she says, and her voice is so warm. “This is nothing.”

Mat gives her his most impish grin, and turns away before she can see it strain. Not for the first time, he wonders who it is his wife really loves.

Years pass faster than comprehension. Mat steals hours with his daughter like the rarest diamonds, moments between long sessions under locked doors when Tuon and her Court teach Enoura how be an empress. Tuon complains every day that five minutes with Mat undo three days of her work at a time. Mat takes it as a the highest honor.

He teaches his daughter how to dance, how to gamble, how to look at a horse and know how fast and how true it will run. She has Tuon’s eyes, Tuon’s steel spine, Tuon’s imperious voice—but she has his smile, he thinks, and his laugh.

When Enoura is one year old, she says her first word: “Dada.” Mat gloats for hours, and his satisfaction is barely touched by the fact that Tuon does not speak to him for the two weeks it takes before Enoura learns to say “Mama.” Even then, a coat of ice frosts her eyes for several weeks longer. Their marriage is only mended a month later, when Min, having drunk slightly too much, reveals that Enoura’s first word was actually, in fact, “Min.”

When Enoura is four years old, she splashes through a mud puddle half as deep as she is tall, and ruins the dress given to her specially for her True Name Day. She trails back into the palace half an hour later, tugged along by her latest tutor (none of them seem to last longer than a few weeks), face sullen, thoroughly disgraced. Tuon arches a single eyebrow when she sees her, fingers drumming on her knees—which, for Tuon, is the equivalent of pitching a fit. Mat fails to bite back a laugh—Light, but how many times had his own mother given him that same expression?— and is sent out of the room.

When Enoura is six years old, she wanders out of the garden gate and disappears. The Seanchan Empire itself seems to grind to a halt. Servants and soldiers alike are sent out in droves, and Tuon locks herself in a dark room with Min, admitting one courtier at a time, until she is certain that none of them are to blame. Mat finds the hidden spaces no one else can; for once, he is grateful for the memories in his head. He finds her when the sun has almost set, crouched behind the thick creeper plant obscuring a shallow alcove where two abandoned buildings meet. She is crying, and she cries harder when she sees him, and as he presses her to him, feeling relief wash over his bones, he decides that she will never cry like this again.

When Enoura is nine years old, Mat feels his medallion go cold. His daughter is standing behind him when he turns, palms stretched in front of her, face scrunched with concentration. She drops the pose when she sees him looking, blowing a mound of brown curls away from her face, and sticks out her lip. “I’m trying to blow you over.” As if to illustrate, a faint gust of wind drifts past Mat. Enoura huffs. “It’s not working.”

The medallion is so cold—and then it isn’t. He feels a shiver run through his body—part of him thinks it can still feel the thin weaves of Air, saidar spinning nets around him. Spun by his daughter. Mat feels his feet move; he goes to her very slowly, kneels in front of her, takes her hands. His eyes flit around the room; the door is closed, the window is shut and barred, there are no servants present, Tuon is far away in the throne room. No one is here. No one has seen. No one but him. He looks at his daughter, at her bright eyes, large and dark. He thinks of a rainbow stole around too-small shoulders, a thin scar around a thin neck that never quite went away.

“Nora,” he says. “Never do that again.”

Saidar, it turns out, is not something that can be controlled so easily. He learns this as he stands in a room full of broken pots and spilled dirt and flowers that weren’t there five minutes ago, and he screams at his daughter for the first time.

Enoura starts to cry and Mat feels all the air leave his body. He drops to his knees in front of her, gathers her into his arms, smooths a hand over her frizzy hair, feels the little leaves and twigs still hidden amongst the curls from the floral rain she created moments earlier.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, so quiet he can’t quite tell if he’s really said it out loud. “It’s going to be okay. I’m so sorry.”

Slowly, gulping big shallow breaths, Enoura starts to calm down. Mat releases her and draws a cloth from his pocket. Carefully, he wipes her tears away, so that her face is dry. He sits her down with her back to him and picks out the leaves, one by one, until her hair is fit for the royal court. Her eyes stay red-rimmed and fearful, though, and he tries not to look at them, feels them bore holes into him as he tugs her quickly through the halls.

Min jumps when he slams the door open, brows drawing sharply down. Then she sees Enoura and her eyes widen, flitting between them.

“The One Power,” she says slowly. Enoura’s lip begins to tremble. It takes all of Mat’s strength not to let himself have the same response. He nods. He and Min look at each other, and Mat can see his face reflected in her eyes, pale and afraid. Min hugs her arms. “Right,” she says. “Right.”

“Can you help her?” Mat’s voice is strained and hoarse; he has to force the words out. “You were in the Tower before— can you help her?”

Min bites her lip. She looks so sad. “I don’t know. Maybe. I can— we can try.”

“I’m sorry,” Enoura whimpers. Her hand is trembling in Mat’s. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I won’t do it again, I promise!”

Mat grips her hand tighter. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Nora. Don’t let anyone tell you you ever did anything wrong. We just— we need to be careful.”

“Careful,” Min echoes. She closes her eyes, shakes her head, takes a deep breath. “I heard... sometimes, when I got bored, I would talk to the Novices or sit in on their lessons. I might… I don’t remember much, but I might be able to… help her control it better. With luck.”

“Luck is all I have,” Mat says.

The sun begins to set. Enoura sits on the ground, legs crossed, mirroring Min’s posture, hands clutched in Min’s, eyes closed.

“Picture yourself as the bud of a rose,” Min murmurs. Mat sags against the wall as a faint ball of light hovers over their hands and Enoura smiles. “You are the bud and the bud is you…”

“I am the bud and the bud is me,” Enoura echoes.

Mat closes his eyes.

Years pass faster than comprehension. Enoura turns twelve. The palace is abuzz as sul’dam prepare to test their proxies—and their new damane . Mat sits locked away in his chambers, Enoura curled in his lap. She is getting too big for that, now, but even as he begins to lose feeling in his legs, he can’t fathom letting her go, not when he looks out of the window and sees the rows of girls her age all lined up, sul’dam circling them like sharks in the water.

Tuon will know what to do. He tells himself that, over and over, as the clock ticks. Tuon is the Empress, and she is Enoura’s mother, and she will not let their daughter be harmed, will not let her be collared, will not let her be used. Memories flit behind his eyes of a girl in a grey dress, only slightly older than Enoura, eyes wide and frightened as she is dragged into the Court, made to kneel before Tuon, made to face judgement for Mat’s mistake—

He shakes the memories away. Enoura will not be— protecting his child will not be a mistake. It can’t be.

Tuon will know what to do.

He grips Enoura’s hand as they hurry to the gardens. Tuon sits on an elevated throne, gaze unwavering, almost unblinking as girl after girl is brought forward and tested. Mat’s grip on Enoura’s hand becomes so tight that he can almost feel her bones shifting. He takes deep breaths, loosens his grasp, runs a hand through his hair, tries to look calm and presentable. He approaches his wife.

Tuon does not look away from the assembled girls when she says, “What is it?”

“I need to speak with you. Please,” he adds belatedly, as the sharp eyes of her guards swing reproachfully his way. “It’s about Nora.”

“Enoura,” Tuon corrects, as she always does. Her eyes flick to their daughter and grow warm. “It is almost time for you testing, daughter.”

Enoura shivers, pressing close to Mat. Mat looks down at her, and then at Tuon. “Can we speak privately?”

Tuon sighs, but she lifts a hand to the sul’dam and rises from her throne. Pulled Enoura gently away from Mat, she deposits her with the guards and follows Mat out of the garden. Her guards stare after her, eyes narrowed, as Mat leads her away from listening ears, into an alcove sheltered by creeping vines and blue roses. It was in a place not unlike this that Enoura was conceived.

“Tuon,” he says.

She looks at him, half expectant, half impatient. Even now, away from everyone, her back is straight, her hands folded primly over her stomach. As always, though she stands at half his height, she seems to be looking down at him with those cold, piercing eyes. She will know what to do. She will know how to keep their daughter safe. She has to.

“Tuon.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Toy.”

He has to tell her. He opens his mouth. He has to tell her. For Enoura’s sake. For Enoura…

“Tuon,” he says, “Min had a viewing.”

Tuon’s eyes glow as he talks. He is barely aware of his own words; they tumble out of his mouth like rocks making deep pits in his stomach. He tells a story. He has always been good at lying.

Tuon returns to the garden. She sits in her throne, overlooking the rows of trembling girls, some weeping because they are damane, some because they are not. Enoura is summoned. She stands beside her mother and watches with wide, frightened eyes as a silver band is strapped to her wrist.

“Enoura,” Tuon announces, the hints of a smile touching her lips. “My daughter, destined to be the most powerful sul’dam this land will ever see.”

A cheer goes up. Enoura’s head swings around; she stares at Mat.

Mat turns away.

“She will make a fine Empress,” Tuon hums, seated on her garden throne, silken white dress draped so that the cloth falls open to frame crossed legs. Her fingers drum silently against the stone armrest. Mat stands at her side and they watch Enoura instruct her damane together. “A fine Empress,” Tuon muses, “if only she would learn to be stricter with them.” Her eyes flit briefly to Mat, hints of warmth just breaking through. “She has too much of your kindness, Toy. I wish she would display more of that lion you keep so well hidden, too.”

I am not a lion, Mat wants to tell her. I am a fox with a loud bark and silver feet. I am a raven with clipped wings. I am a man trapped in the weaves of a Pattern I cannot comprehend. I am not the memories in my head.

Instead he nods silently, and watches his daughter struggle to keep the pain off her face as her damane again tries, again fails, to pour a pitcher of water. How long before that smooth, blank face ceases to be a struggle? How long before it comes naturally to her? How long before she stops feeling the damane’s pain at all? Enoura glances back at him, eyes large and dark and pained and lost, and he looks away.

It has been weeks since he was able to meet his daughter’s eyes.

Enoura is sixteen years old and sobbing. The full moon gleams in the tears that stream down her face, thin creeks of silver starlight making lines down her cheeks, splashing onto the cold stone of the terrace wall. Mat watches her and feels like weeping himself. In one hand she clutches the silver bracelet, and it trembles in her grasp. The other hand strays to her neck, lacquered fingernails pressing into it, hard enough to leave angry red marks.

“I should be wearing this here,” she sobs. “I should be one of them, I should—”

Mat pulls her close, pressing her face to his chest, muffling her words, eyes scanning the darkness for watching eyes, listening ears. With one hand he smooths her hair, over and over, as he did when she was little. Her curls are not as unruly as they used to be, cut short and flattened by a gleaming crown she used to complain hurt her ears. She doesn’t complain any more. She doesn’t laugh like she used to, or smile, or chatter. Mat wonders how there could ever have been days when he wished she would stop talking, if only for a moment. She is not talking now. Her muffled sobs pierce his ears with every other breath. He holds her tighter.

What can he do? What can he say to help her, to comfort her? There is no silver lining to Enoura’s struggle, only the simple fact that she is alive and uncollared. How much comfort is that, when the price of her freedom is the slavery of women who in any other life would be her sisters?

Tuon once told him that empresses do not love, but Mat doesn’t think that is true. He sees love in her when she smiles at their daughter. He sees it in her eyes when she travels into the city, when she looks out at her people, shining with pride for her empire. He sees love in her smile when they stay up together into the dawn and she calls him a lion, and he wonders if there is any part of him she loves more than the men in his head, and the battles they have won.

Empresses love, Mat is certain of that, but he is not certain how far that love can be tested. He is not certain how love measures up against the world’s most powerful empire, an empire built on slavery, an empire with servitude so deeply ingrained into its culture that the very notion of viewing damane as people is not worth consideration, because it is a notion that would tear the empire apart if given more than a moment’s thought.

Enoura’s sobs fade into shuddering breaths. Mat rests his head on hers and thinks of a girl, not ten years old, making little balls of light and laughing.

“Luck is all I have,” he had said, that night.

He wonders how far his luck can carry him. He wonders if he can trust it one last time. Choices spin through his head and he wishes, for the first time, that the dice would come back and spin, and spin, so that he could know which decision is the right one. He hopes he can trust his luck.

Mat pushes Enoura gently away. Cupping her face in his hands, he wipes away her tears, and tries to smile.

“It’s going to be okay, Nora,” he whispers. “Here is what we’re going to do.”

el’Nynaeve ti al’Meara Mandragoran turns from the window as a liveried servant slips through the door. She has to bring a hand up to steady the crown that threatens to slip at her quick movement; it has been so many years, and yet the Crown of Malkier still feels foreign against her forehead. Not that she would trade it, nor what it signifies, for all the world.

“Yes?”

“Queen Nynaeve, two travellers seek audience with you.”

Nynaeve blinks. “With me? Not with Lan— I mean, not with the King?”

“Yes, Queen Nynaeve.”

“And without any notice…” Nynaeve’s hands stray to her braid. “See them in.”

The servant bows and slips back out of the room, and Nynaeve sighs, her frown half of impatience and half of concern. Who would ask to see her, and only her, so suddenly, without notice?

The door opens. Two cloaked figures enter the room, one half the height of the other. Nynaeve’s frown deepens.

“Who are you?”

The smaller figure shrinks back, pulling down the hood to reveal unruly brown curls—some motherly instinct in Nynaeve screams the need to brush this child’s hair—and dark, strangely familiar eyes. But it is the second, taller figure that draws a gasp from the Queen of Malkier, as the hood is pulled back to reveal gleaming brown eyes and a wide, impish grin. Nynaeve’s fingers tighten around her braid. She can already feel a headache approaching.

“Hello, Wisdom,” Mat Cauthon says, insolent as ever. “Could I trouble you for a place to stay?”

#uaf secret santa #wheel of time #wot #wot fic #mat cauthon #can you tell i have Strong Emotions about mat cauthon #the wheel of time #tuon paendrag #nynaeve al'meara #min farshaw #seanchan #saidar #wot spoilers #wot spoiler #amol spoilers #wot a memory of light

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thecenturionjournal · 3 years

Text

William Wright, Abolitionist

WILLIAM WRIGHT See p. 691. MEMORIAL. William Wright, a distinguished abolitionist of Adams county, Pennsylvania, was born on the 21st of December, 1788. Various circumstances conspired to make this unassuming Quaker an earnest Abolitionist and champion of the oppressed in every land and of every nationality and color. His uncle, Benjamin Wright, and cousin, Samuel B. Wright, were active members of the old Pennsylvania Abolition Society, and at the time of the emancipation of the slaves in this state were often engaged in lawsuits with slave-holders to compel them to release their bondmen, according to the requirements of the law. William Wright grew up under the influence of the teachings of these relatives. Joined to this, his location caused him to take an extraordinary interest in Underground Rail Road affairs. He lived near the foot of the southern slope of the South Mountain, a spur of the Alleghenies which extends, under various names, to Chattanooga, Tennessee. This mountain was followed in its course by hundreds of fugitives until they got into Pennsylvania, and were directed to William Wright's house. In November, 1817, William Wright married Phebe Wierman, (born on the 8th of February, 1790,) daughter of a neighboring farmer, and sister of Hannah W. Gibbons, wife of Daniel Gibbons, a notice of whom appears elsewhere in this work. Phebe Wright was the assistant of her husband in every good work, and their married life of forty-eight years was a long period of united and efficient labor in the cause of humanity. She still (1871) survives him. William and Phebe Wright began their Underground Rail Road labors about the year 1819. Hamilton Moore, who ran away from Baltimore county, Maryland, was the first slave aided by them. His master came for him, but William Wright and Joel Wierman, Phebe Wright's brother, who lived in the neighborhood, rescued him and sent him to Canada. In the autumn of 1828, as Phebe Wright, surrounded by her little children, came out upon her back porch in the performance of some household duty, she saw standing before her in the shade of the early November morning, a colored man without hat, shoes, or coat. He asked if Mr. Wright lived there, and upon receiving an affirmative reply, said that he wanted work. The good woman, comprehending the situation at a glance, told him to come into the house, get warm, and wait till her husband came home. He was shivering with cold and fright. When William Wright came home the fugitive told his story. He came from Hagerstown, Maryland, having been taught the blacksmith's trade there. In this business it was his duty to keep an account of all the work done by him, which record he showed to his master at the end of the week. Knowing no written character but the figure 5 he kept this account by means of a curious system of hieroglyphics in which straight marks meant horse shoes put on, circles, cart-wheels fixed, etc. One day in happening to see his master's book he noticed that wherever five and one were added the figure 6 was used. Having practiced this till he could make it he ever after used it in his accounts. As his master was looking over these one day, he noticed the new figure and compelled the slave to tell how he had learned it. He flew into a rage, and said, "I'll teach you how to be learning new figures," and picking up a horse-shoe threw it at him, but fortunately for the audacious chattel, missed his aim. Notwithstanding his ardent desire for liberty, the slave considered it his duty to remain in bondage until he was twenty-one years old in order to repay by his labor the trouble and expense which his master had had in rearing him. On the evening of his twenty-first anniversary he turned his face toward the North star, and started for a land of freedom. Arriving at Reisterstown, a village on the Westminster turnpike about twenty-five miles from Baltimore and thirty-five miles from Mr. Wright's house, he was arrested and placed in the bar-room of the country tavern in care of the landlady to wait until his captors, having finished some work in which they were engaged, could take him back to his master. The landlady, being engaged in getting supper, set him to watch the cakes that were baking. As she was passing back and forth he ostentatiously removed his hat, coat, and shoes, and placed them in the bar-room. Having done this, he said to her, "I will step out a moment." This he did, she sending a boy to watch him. When the boy came out he appeared to be very sick and called hastily for water. The boy ran in to get it. Now was his golden opportunity. Jumping the fence he ran to a clump of trees which occupied low ground behind the house and concealing himself in it for a moment, ran and continued to run, he knew not whither, until he found himself at the toll gate near Petersburg, in Adams county. Before this he had kept in the fields and forests, but now found himself compelled to come out upon the road. The toll-gate keeper, seeing at once that he was a fugitive, said to him, "I guess you don't know the road." "I guess I can find it myself," was the reply. "Let me show you," said the man. "You may if you please," replied the fugitive. Taking him out behind his dwelling, he pointed across the fields to a new brick farm-house, and said, "Go there and inquire for Mr. Wright." The slave thanked him and did as he was directed. He remained with William Wright until April, 1829. During this short time he learned to read, write, and cipher as far as the single rule of three, as it was then called, or simple proportion. During his residence with William Wright, nothing could exceed his kindness or gratitude to the whole family. He learned to graft trees, and thus rendered great assistance to William Wright in his necessary business. When working in the kitchen during the winter he would never allow Phebe Wright to perform any hard labor, always scrubbing the floor and lifting heavy burdens for her. Before he went away in the spring he assumed a name which his talents, perseverance, and genius have rendered famous in both hemispheres, that of James W.C. Pennington. The initial W. was for his benefactor's family, and C. for the family of his former master. From William Wright's he went to Daniel Gibbons', thence to Delaware county, Pennsylvania, and from there to New Haven, Conn., where, while performing the duties of janitor at Yale College, he completed the studies of the college course. After a few years, he went to Heidelberg, where the degree of D.D. was conferred upon him. He never forgot William Wright and his family, and on his return from Europe brought them each a present. The story of his escape and wonderful abilities was spread over England. An American acquaintance of the Wright family was astonished, on visiting an Anti-slavery fair in London many years ago, to see among the pictures for sale there, one entitled, "William and Phebe Wright receiving James W.C. Pennington." The Dr. died in Florida, in 1870, where he had gone to preach and assist in opening schools amongst the Freemen. In 1842 a party of sixteen slaves came to York, Pa., from Baltimore county, Md. Here they were taken in charge by William Wright, Joel Fisher, Dr. Lewis, and William Yocum. The last named was a constable, and used to assist the Underground Rail Road managers by pretending to hunt fugitives with the kidnappers. Knowing where the fugitives were he was enabled to hunt them in the opposite direction from that in which they had gone, and thus give them time to escape. This constable and a colored man of York took this party one by one out into Samuel Willis' corn-field, near York, and hid them under the shocks. The following night Dr. Lewis piloted them to near his house, at Lewisburg, York county, on the banks of the Conewago. Here they were concealed several days, Dr. Lewis carrying provisions to them in his saddle-bags. When the search for them had been given up in William Wright's neighborhood, he went down to Lewisburg and in company with Dr. Lewis took the whole sixteen across the Conewago, they fording the river and carrying the fugitives across on their horses. It was a gloomy night in November. Every few moments clouds floated across the moon, alternately lighting up and shading the river, which, swelled by autumn rains, ran a flood. William Wright and Dr. Lewis mounted men or women behind and took children in their arms. When the last one got over, the doctor, who professed to be an atheist, exclaimed, "Great God! is this a Christian land, and are Christians thus forced to flee for their liberty?" William Wright guided this party to his house that night and concealed them in a neighboring forest until it was safe for them to proceed on their way to Canada. Just in the beginning of harvest of the year 1851, four men came off from Washington county, Maryland. They were almost naked and seemed to have come through great difficulties, their clothing being almost entirely torn off. As soon as they came, William Wright went to the store and got four pair of shoes. It was soon heard that their masters and the officers had gone to Harrisburg to hunt them. Two of them, Fenton and Tom, were concealed at William Wright's, and the other two, Sam and one whose name has been forgotten, at Joel Wierman's. In a day or two, as William Wright, a number of carpenters, and other workmen, among whom were Fenton and Tom, were at work in the barn, a party of men rode up and recognized the colored men as slaves of one of their number. The colored men said they had left their coats at the house. William Wright looked earnestly at them and told them to go to the house and get their coats. They went off, and one of them was observed by one of the family to take his coat hastily down from where it hung in one of the outhouses, a few moments afterward. After conversing a few moments at the barn, William Wright brought the slave-holders down to the house, where he, his wife and daughters engaged them in a controversy on the subject of slavery which lasted about an hour. One of them seemed very much impressed, and labored hard to convince his host that he was a good master and would treat his men well. Finally one of the party asked William Wright to produce the men. He replied that he would not do that, that they might search his premises if they wished to, but they could not compel him to bring forth the fugitives. Seeing that they had been duped, they became very angry and proceeded forthwith to search the house and all the outhouses immediately around it, without, however, finding those whom they sought. As they left the house and went toward the barn, William Wright, waving his hand toward the former, said, "You see they are not anywhere there." They then went to the barn and gave it a thorough search. Between it and the house, a little away from the path, but in plain sight, stood the carriage-house, which they passed by without seeming to notice. After they had gone, poor Tom was found in this very house, curled up under the seats of the old-fashioned family carriage. He had never come to the house at all, but had heard the voices of his hunters from his hiding-place, during their whole search. About two o'clock in the morning, Fenton was found by William Wright out in the field. He had run along the bed of a small water course, dry at that time of year, until he came to a rye field amid whose high grain he hid himself until he thought the danger was past. From William Wright's the slave-catchers went to Joel Wierman's, where, despite all that could be done, they got poor Sam, took him off to Maryland and sold him to the traders to be taken far south. In 1856 William Wright was a delegate from Adams county to the Convention at Philadelphia which nominated John C. Fremont for President of the United States. As the counties were called in alphabetical order, he responded first among the Pennsylvania delegation. It is thought that he helped away during his whole life, nearly one thousand slaves. During his latter years, he was aided in the good work by his children, who never hesitated to sacrifice their own pleasure in order to help away fugitives. His convictions on the subject of slavery seem to have been born with him, to have grown with his growth, and strengthened with his strength. He could not remember when he first became interested in the subject. William Wright closed his long and useful life on the 25th of October, 1865. More fortunate than his co-laborer, Daniel Gibbons, he lived to see the triumph of the cause in which he had labored all his life. His latter years were cheered by the remembrance of his good deeds in the cause of human freedom. Modest and retiring, he would not desire, as he does not need, a eulogy. His labors speak for themselves, and are such as are recorded upon the Lamb's Book of Life. #################################################### Album of pix of Plainfield w interior> https://goo.gl/photos/UKfYAyysNzACjBVF9 ########################################## The Wright House is located on property owned by Ludwigs on the northernmost end of Adams County in Latimore Township. It's along Latimore Valley Road, set back in a bit. I have never seen it in person, so I don't know what condition it is currently in. It is on private property, which is why I do not give the location of the house on my website. The black and white photos are from the 1920s and the color photos are from 1993. It played a part in the underground railroad and at least one of the photos shows where slaves would have hidden. My Dad said he was back there when he was little and they pulled the dresser away to reveal the crawl space behind it. I think William and Phebe Wright were the ones who owned it, hence the name, the "Wright House." I don't know anything about them, though, off-hand. The house looks like it would have been a nice place if it had been fixed up, but I imagine it's beyond repair at this point. -from email from D. Worley

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