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jomiddlemarch · 1 month

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for danger is in words

“My wife’s name is Mary,” he said, first in English, before he noticed and then again in the Portuguese she would understand. There was a something about her face that told him he perhaps hadn’t needed the translation. “Not so different—”

“You did not call me by her name,” Mariko said, a reassurance he should not have needed, but it had been a long time since he’d tumbled a woman and Mariko had touched him in ways he had not imagined, given him pleasure with hands he would have thought devilish clever except for the look in her dark eyes as she’d stroked him. Tenderness and wonder, as if he were precious, an unexpected marvel, not a scarred sea-pilot with manners too rough, too eager, for the subtle Japans.

“’Tisn’t proper to speak of her now, I warrant. After pillowing,” John said, using the term Mariko had. She was a widow, even if not as merry as widow as one would find in London or Amsterdam, so perhaps she had done nothing untoward by her rights, but it didn’t seem polite to hold a woman in his arms, her bare skin more delicate than her silk robe, the taste of her yet in his mouth, and talk of another.

“Men’s tongues wag after congress,” she said. “Unless they sleep.”

“You gave me great joy,” he said. It sounded awkward, formal, but his Portuguese did not run to either poetry or the sweet-talk lovers used, endearments and admissions. Praise was used quite differently here and he didn’t want to risk offending her.

“I thought I must,” she said. “You were very loud.”

He laughed, a low, rumbling chuckle that startled her, a sudden tenseness in her shoulders. He would not have been able to tell if she were wearing her usual robes, standing across from him, but naked, pressed against him, it was undeniable.

“I suppose I was. I offer my most sincere apology if you’d have it,” he said.

“You did nothing wrong. Many cry out at the peak,” she said.

“You did not,” he replied. She had made a very soft sound and he’d felt her body surge around his, her hands tightening on his back, her neck arched. The moonlight through the paper screens had not enough power to give him any color, but he’d felt her flush even if he could not see the roses in her cheeks, the hue of a Tudor blossom down her throat and across her full breasts.

“Did your Mary?” she replied. For once, perhaps, it was not a challenge nor a game whose rules he was meant to discover mid-play. She was curious, about Mary and about English women, about the world he’d left behind. What he’d told her about the Thames had not slaked her thirst but whetted it, but she wanted more than details of a silver river in a filthy city, a jeweled Virgin Queen on her throne. She wanted to know about the bed he’d lain in, conceiving his children, the bedclothes rumpled, the rushes on the floor with their wilting herbs. Mary with her bright chestnut hair unbound, a spatter of freckles across her cheeks, her eyes light. He couldn’t recall their blue anymore.

“Not at first. She was shy, ‘til she learned to like it,” he said.

“To like pillowing?”

“To like make noise. To letting me know I’d pleased her. Or that she wanted more,” he said. Mariko shifted and sated as he was, she stirred him. It would not do to think whether each gesture was studied, a courtier’s or a courtesan’s. He would not know unless she told him and she would not tell him if he asked direct. That at least, he’d learned, how little appreciated was the confrontation, even if his only goal was the discovery of her appetite, her delight.

“Without you, she is quiet,” Mariko said.

“She is virtuous, a respected matron. Her bed is empty but she is quiet only in that regard. She’s known for her wit, her temper,” he said. Mary would like to be rendered so, even if she sulked to learn he’d shared his bed with another.

“You miss her,” Mariko said. At least, he heard it thus. The word she chose was one she paused before uttering and he wondered how deficient she found Portuguese to her purpose.

“Less than I ought,” he admitted. “All is dross that is not Helena,” he added wryly, mocking his own inconstancy, ruing the comparison that Mariko posed, in every way lovely and quick, fair and bright and with untold depths he would never plumb.

“I do not understand, Anjin,” she said.

“A line from a play, from home,” he said. “I mean to say, I do my wife a disservice, but one I cannot regret.”

“Because you pillowed with me?”

“’Twas not only such for me,” he said. If he were fluent in her language, still he would struggle to explain to her what he had felt during their coupling, all words platitudes in their attempt to contain the ineffable. He would have felt embarrassed to describe it so except that he felt most himself surrounded by the sea and the horizon, by those things elemental—water and salt, air and star. Something in her answered him, even if it was an aspect she had withdrawn behind her bloody fence, and that was more powerful than any ecstasy.

“To a starving man, a crumb is a banquet,” she said.

“And now I know you have never had a hungry winter,” he replied. He’d had his fair share as a child. He didn’t mention the desperate straits they’d come to before being taken in by the Japans, the men turning in their hammock as if winding their own shrouds about their bony carcasses. “A crumb to a starving man is not a banquet but torture and lying with you was neither feast nor agony.” He leaned in and grazed her temple with his lips, traced the curve of her cheek with his forefinger.

“Sweet,” he murmured.

“You are gentle, Anjin. More gentle than I expected,” she said. He thought of how she’d become very still when he’d brought her palm to his lips and when he’d drawn her close to nestle against him as they rocked together on the cusp of abandonment. He thought of how she’d touched the scars on his back and arm, the ones on his ribs, his belly, the question in her eyes unasked, unconcealed.

“I would have you call me John,” he said.

“I am not your consort,” Mariko said.

“That is why I ask. It is not a demand,” he said.

“Only now,” she said. She looked at him and took a breath. Her lips parted, as if invitation. “John.”

“We agreed now is the only time there is,” he replied and pulled her to him, tasting his name on her tongue, sighing the pleasure of it into her mouth and stroking it down her back.

The cry she gave when he brought her to the crest was sharp, like a wheeling gull’s, and so shocking that he spent in the next instant, his groan swallowed into silence. He lay panting, his cock still hard within her, his hand at her waist when she moved to whisper in his ear.

“John. Only now.”

Shout-out to @aquitainequeen for her post on early 17th century theater and what John could have seen/quoted. I went full-throttle Dr. Faustus, as she suggested he'd had loved that!

#shogun 2024 #john blackthorne #mariko x blackthorne #lady mariko #toda mariko #romance #canon au #pillow-talk #mrs. john blackthorne #lost in translation #the importance of names #married people talking about their marriages #intimacy

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leiawritesstories · 22 days

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queen's crown

rowaelin + kiddos // written for April microfics @throneofglassmicrofics using the prompt "Crown"

word count: 725

warnings: none :)

enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Staghorn Crown of Terrasen sat atop its emerald-green velvet pillow, the gold spires that resembled antlers jutting proudly up into the still, silent air of the throne room. At its center, the kingsflame bloom encased in crystal seemed almost to glow, the scarlet and crimson and orange of its petals radiating warmth and light.

The princess rose onto her tiptoes and fixed her wide-eyed gaze upon the crown, the pedestal just barely taller than her head. At the sound of footsteps entering the throne room, she startled, and her elbow knocked into the pedestal as she wobbled, trying to keep her balance.

She stared, her wonder turning to horror, as the crown tipped off of its cushion and tumbled towards the floor.

But a swift, wintry wind brushed through the throne room, caught the crown, and deposited it neatly back on its cushion, its tendrils wrapping carefully around the princess as she wobbled on the steps.

"Are you alright, little love?" Her father's voice, her father's wind.

Six-year-old Alanna Whitethorn Galathynius felt her lower lip shiver as the tears slowly spilled out of her eyes, the same bright pine as her father's. In an instant, her father was there, scooping her up into his arms, soothing her.

"I--I almost broke Mama's crown," Lana half-sobbed, burying her face in her dada's warm shoulder.

"Shh, little love, it's alright." Rowan carried Lana back to her rooms, where her mother was waiting, concern on her face. He kissed the top of his daughter's blonde head. "You know Mama and I would never let anything happen to you, Lana."

She sniffled. "I sorry, Mama."

Aelin took her daughter from her mate's arms, giving him a brief, tender look. "Lana, lovey, you mean so much more to me than that silly old crown." She cupped the little girl's face, meeting Lana's teary gaze with her own steady one. "Were you trying to see Mama's crown?"

Lana nodded. "Auntie El said you used to try and see it all the time when you were my age."

A distant, yearning smile slipped across Aelin's face. "That was...a very long time ago. I'm surprised she remembers." When she was a child, Aelin had often slipped into the throne room to stare at the crown from a distance, a memory she'd almost forgotten until her daughter brought it up.

Calming, Lana touched the bracelet that curled around Aelin's wrist, a smaller version of the crown with golden prongs like antlers. An everyday crown. "It matches."

"Yes, it does." Aelin kissed Lana's forehead. "Do you want to go see the crown, lovey?"

Lana's big green eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"Alright, then." Aelin stood up and took Lana's hand, and with Rowan at her back, ever the hovering buzzard, she led her daughter down to the throne room. Together, they walked across the quiet, shadowed expanse of the room, its soft darkness broken by the sunlight that streamed in through the arched windows along the walls.

At the front of the throne room, she lifted the crown's cushion off the pedestal, slowly knelt down in front of her daughter with a flicker of a grimace of discomfort, and set the cushion on the ground. Lana's expression widened with wonder as she clung to her mother's hand and stared at the crown.

Rowan knelt next to Aelin, concern creasing his face. "Are you sure you should be--"

"I'm fine, you overbearing buzzard," she sighed, one hand drifting to her very rounded stomach.

A tiny mirror of her father, Lana pressed both of her small hands to Aelin's bump. "Mama, baby?"

"Baby is just fine, lovey," Aelin promised. Gently, reverently, she lifted the crown from its cushion and raised it into the shaft of sunlight, causing light to radiate off of the kingsflame bloom. As her daughter and her mate watched, she carefully lowered it onto her head, feeling its familiar weight settle over her.

Lana stared raptly. "Mama so pretty," she murmured.

Aelin smiled as she lifted the crown off her head. "One day, my daughter, this will be yours." Lana held very still as Aelin placed the crown atop her small head, holding it in place so it didn't slip down the princess's face.

And the Queen of Terrasen looked at the future queen, her heart full to bursting at the sight of her family.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

#my writing #answered prompt #prompt fill #throne of glass microfics #throne of glass #queen of shadows #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin #awlin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #canon au #post canon au #rowaelin and kiddos #rowaelin babies

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fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 2 months

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Good Omens Fic Rec: Pray For Us, Icarus (series)

For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...

Length: 65,836 words

AO3 Rating: Teen and Up

Best for: Safe in Public, At Home, Human AU, Canon AU, Angst, Romance, One Sitting

Triggers: Temporary Character Death

Read it here, fic by Atalan

*Minor Spoilers* There's nothing I can say about this story that probably hasn't already been said. It is one of the most popular and well-known Good Omens fanfics, and for excellent reason. I know for certain that I'm not the only one who has wept while reading it. Today was my third time with this story, and, whoops, I cried again.

I've tried to express my thoughts in this post in a few different ways. I can't wax poetic about how much I love this story—my writing skills just aren't there. And much of what I've tried to say feels redundant. I even had a whole paragraph comparing it to the themes in this art by chernozemm which is how this story feels to me.

What I've settled on is that you should read this story because it is intrinsically Good Omens Fanfiction. This series only works as Aziraphale and Crowley, and you could not repackage or retell this story for any other fandom, or, God forbid, traditional fiction. All the emotions we feel reading this come from the intimacy we already have with this world and these characters. The story, and the author, know we can read between the lines. Thus, it can drop a simple line and have us crumple because we already know the subtext behind it. That's why I am so addicted to fanfiction! I'm not saying this is the only story that has accomplished this. But I do think it's one of the most successful.

This series, in my opinion, must be read all the way through. In my eyes, this is a singular work and no one should be skipping any part of this saga. It bothers me that the hit counts between the parts is not equal. The first part has 99k hits and the final 47k. The drop off is criminal! Every section of this story is important and critical to the full picture. So if you read the first part, Flowers for Anthony, and did not proceed to the rest of the story, please get on this!

Completely safe in public, but if you can, I really suggest you read this one at home in one sitting. You'll want to devote all your attention to this story. If, for some reason, you haven't read this one yet, please make it a priority! This is one of the most heart-wrenching and romantic stories I've ever read, and it deserves its spot as a fandom classic.

Read it here, fic by Atalan

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partyanimal167 · 1 year

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Hey i saw your post about wanting to do some law fics and i had an idea how about a law x fem or gn reader that is a excellent sworddswomen and can take out someone even with their sheth still on! ( like kagra from fairy tail the anime) but the catch is that when not fight shes super awkward and shy and flustered with him (because he saved her and she attracted to him and his character)Also could the fic being about their first meeting like asking her to join his crew and after time becoming a thing and going to dressrosa together, it could start with law telling the straw hats how they met

(Sorry i know thats a lot but i’ve had this idea for while now and would really appreciate it you can do it but its too much please let me know i dont want pressure you❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️)

Hi!!! Thank you so much for requesting. I'm super nervous to write about Law, but this is a really nice prompt to use. Plus, I'm so stoked that you referenced Kagura! I love Fairy Tail; that was the first fandom I wrote about when I was younger lol. I'm going to try to incorporate everything you wrote. I hope you enjoy it~

She's Just Shy, ok...- Law x F!Reader

CW: Fluff, canon au, nongraphic action, awkward reader (mood)

In hindsight, Law should have realized he wasn't lucky enough to have a normal person on his crew...but she was special to say the least...not that he would say it.

Law was trying his hardest to not break his mug as he watched you going at it with the Strawhat's swordsman. It was his fault though. He had been too deep into his studies and planning, so after continuously rejecting Zoro for a sparring match, it made sense that he would go after you. You were more of a challenge really. Law flexed that strength of his sword at any hint of danger, but you, oh, you weren't bothered by any threats at all. Few could tell the story of seeing your blade at all. A swordman's that used only her sheath, yeah Zoro would be all over that.

"TRA!!!"

Law nearly jumped out his skin when Luffy appeared hanging upside down from a rail. He grumbled into his mug. "What!"

He only laughed. "Y/n is so cool~ I bet Zoro is happy to have a strong person to fight with." he grinned. Law only grunted. "Hmm, maybe she could join my crew. OI! Zoro! Ask Y/n to-," Luffy groaned after being hit upside his head. "Nami! What was that for?"

The navigator rolled her eyes. "You can't go trying to steal people's crew members. What if someone tried to recruit Zoro?"

Luffy understood her point but still whined. "But she's so strong~ Zoro would like it!"

"She's not a pet!" Law argued back.

Luffy laughed. "Ooo, what about a competition! Y/N, would you join my crew if I beat Toroa at a game?"

You skidded across the floor and smiled at the goofy captain. "Sorry Lu-chan, I can't leave my captain yet." she beamed even as she blocked an attack from Zoro without looking. "I owe him too much." she grinned before turning her attention back to her opponent while Sanji threatened to starve Zoro if he so much as got a cut on your skin.

Luffy pouted. "Boo, I want her..."

"Be nice captain." Robin lightly chided. She turned to the doctor. "I am curious though. How did you two meet, Tra-guy?"

Your ears picked up the question. "Cap-captain, no! Don't tell them!" you nervously stammered and waved your hands.

Zoro raised a brow. "Why not? Couldn't be that bad." he grabbed a towel and tossed it to you. You wiped your face, neck, and bosom. He gulped down some water.

Seeing that your attention was back on him, Law relaxed a little. "It's nothing dramatic." he grumbled. "More embarrassing for me really..." he muttered.

"Huh???" everyone asked. For the doctor to admit that and not hold back was certainly something.

Law reclined back and spread his arms out. "I needed some assistance..."

~~~

You were finally able to relax and enjoy the warm weather after spending the morning training. Sitting and meditating was a great way for you to recenter before continuing about your day. You found a nice tree and were wrapping up when a heard some loud commotion nearby.

You opened your eyes to see a group of shady-looking men running away. A few moments later, an anxious looking polar bear was running around searching while tears seemed to be flowing from his eyes. You cocked your head to the side curiously. The polar bear cried out. "Captain is going to kill me!!!"

His uniform seemed to be unique enough from the townspeople, but not quite individualistic. You stood up and stretched. You weren't sure what to do about what you saw and decided to head back to your solitary home in the woods.

You left the busier town and continued walking casually in the woods. You knew this path well seeing as this was your childhood area filled with palm trees and secret waterfalls. You neared the summit of a hill and tensed as you felt an odd, distinct air. You dodged a knife thrown at your head and rested your hand on your sword.

A few of those men from before jumped out of the bushes. "Hehe, seems the rumors were true. What is a woman like you doing with that on your hip?"

"Looks expensive too." another added.

You met their greedy gaze with little interest. So they're robbers. You took a couple steps forward dismissively before they jumped to attack. You quickly reacted and swung your body around to dodge. You shifted on one foot before swinging the other to land in one guy's face. It would have been an easy conflict except more men appeared.

You grumbled before tying up your hair and pulling your sword from your waist.

"You got some moves, missy. But now we really know you don't need that sword. Those work better when they're out of their sheaths." he commented rudely.

You took an offensive stance and dashed to quickly to slice the shocked robbers. It only took a couple slashes or two before each man fell to the ground with serious wounds. You rolled your shoulders before sighing. You just saw them not so long ago, so their stolen goods were probably still on them. You peaked in a couple bushes before pulling out a long sword. It was heavy in your hand. You wondered how hard it would be to find its owner. Oh maybe, that polar bear would know. You continued to admire the blade when you felt the air shift once more. You turned around to see a man bring up a large hammer to swing at you. You tensed to move, but-

"Room."

An odd light feeling surrounded you for a second before you were in the grasp of a stranger. You looked up confusingly as someone could just hold you with one arm then watched as the man froze. "You're- you're-, you're the Surgeon of Death!" the man only tch-ed at the accusation before rotating his hands and muttered. "Shambles."

You watched in shocked as the various men's body parts were dismembered before shuffling around and mixing with each other. Most of them were still knocked out though and wouldn't realize the uncanny circumstance until they woke up.

The man gently placed you down and you clenched onto the sword while bowing. "Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I should have totally seen that coming. How embarrassing!" the words blurted from your mouth.

The man's gold eyes looked at you with uncertainty. "Don't mention it..." he paused before reaching his hand out, "my sword, please."

You looked at his hand then clenched tighter on the sword. "Oh, huh, is this your sword?" you laughed awkwardly. "Oh jeez, heh, sorry here-,"

"Captain!!!" a high-pitched voice echoed up the hill before the polar bear from before appeared with tears still flowing.

You brightened! "Oh bear-chan!"

The bear stopped and looked at you. He immediately took a defensive karate pose in front of the man. "Did you take my captain's sword! You- you-, woman! I'll"

"Bepo," the man interjected annoyed. "This woman just defeated these robbers. Show her a little respect." The other immediately dropped his pose before bowing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Thank you for recovering, Kikuko!"

You scratched your cheek awkwardly and waved your hand. "Ah no problem at all. He saved my life!" you then turned and finally handed back the sword. "Thank you, again." you bowed. You straightened up. "I'm y/n."

The man seemed to relax more with the sword at his side finally. "Trafalgar Law. I'm sorry if we caused you trouble." he looked at his subordinate. "My sword was taken away while he was on watch."

"I'm sorry, Captain."

"Tch, this is why I don't take naps..." Law muttered. "We'll leave now. I don't want to bother you more."

"Wait!" you called out. "I have to repay you! That guy nearly took off your head."

Law shook his head. "If anything, we're even. I saw how you fought; you would have been fine."

Your face warmed at the compliment. "No, I insist!" Law seemed to see your stubbornness despite the flustered appearance.

"Fine."

....

Law should have known better than to get his hopes up at your seemingly normal appearance. After meeting you a couple times while at your island, you proved to have a formidable reputation that had the Marines constantly trying to recruit you though you continued to reject them. As you two got along, you were amazed by Law and his crew's tales of travels and adventure. You recalled all the commotion that happened when the Worst Generation was at Sabody as well as the Marineford War. You never planned on being a pirate necessarily, but you had your own goals that meant you needed to leave home.

Law didn't know why you were so nervous to speak to him all the time, so he was shocked when you were able to as him to join his crew without a stutter. He wasn't sure what to think. You were strong and smart. And as much as he thought that another mouth to feed would be a bother, he couldn't deny that you would be a good addition. He'd hope that you at least learn to hold a conversation with him without playing with your hands.

~~~

"Law!!! You're so mean!" you wailed as you pushed your chest against the back of his head. He immediately blushed and tried to push you off. "I'm so embarrassed!" you clung onto him.

"Oh my god, I don't know why!" Law argued. You continued to fuss and Law shyly babied you in his arms.

The Strawhats were shocked by the softer scene in front of them. "He's surprisingly soft..." Robin noted.

Luffy groaned. "Oh boo, Tra is so lucky. No way she'll join us now." For some reason, he understood now.

~~~

*sprinkles in some slight jealousy because we like that here.* Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it @dancingnewcat Please let me know how it is. I'm so happy to finally get a request~

Until next time~

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece x y/n #femreader #canon au #fluff #stewie writes #requests #mine #partyanimal167 #the heart pirates #the strawhats #luffy

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light-yaers · 2 years

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Lover (Conrad Fisher x Reader)

It's been five years since you've been back to Cousins, Massachusetts; and Belly and Jeremiah are getting married.

You and Conrad were best friends once, will you ever be best friends again?

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol and substance abuse, eventual sex/smut, mentions of death/cancer. 18+

Read it on AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

The lover. playlist here!

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chaotic-on-main · 1 year

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Dandelions | CanonAU One-Shot

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ friends to lovers, first date, love confessions, just pure unadulterated FLUFF

☾ A/N ➼ I'm gonna have to start a separate thing for my song fics I s2g. The amount of songs I have written down to write fics about is insane. Anyways, this is actually a little fic I wrote for @humanitys-strongest-bamf because she said she really wanted a flower date written for her. I kinda took that idea as well as the inspiration from Ruth B's song Dandelions (attached below) AND I forgot Kat had also sent me a prompt request awhile back so this also fulfills that lmao. I hope y'all enjoy!! I've listened to this song for days on repeat so I hope I have captured it well.

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2k

It had only taken a couple months for the pure titans to be disposed of, thanks to the efforts of the scouts. This eradication is the reason why you find yourself sneaking off for another lone ride before dusk falls. The hard part wasn’t getting your horse or permission to go outside the walls, it was trying to get out without too many questions from your fellow cadets. You didn’t know how to tell them this was your way of escaping from them and everything else that came crashing since the battle of Shiganshina.

“Oi oi oi! Where do you think you’re going?” A deep voice rings out behind you as you’re saddling up. You feel your heart jump with your body. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before turning around to face a stern Captain Levi.

“Just a little ride before dinner tonight, Levi. I already got the okay.” He eyes you wearily.

“By yourself?” He crosses his arms.

“Yes, by myself. It’s not like we have any threats out there anymore.” You roll your eyes, smile now fading, before turning back around to tighten straps.

“People can be just as dangerous.” He gripes back. You feel his eyes burning holes in your head.

“Sounds like someone is worried about me.”

“Of course, I’m worried. Who knows what trouble you’ll get yourself into.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Tch, I trust you.” His words make you grin, but you quickly wipe it off your face before turning back around once you’re satisfied with your gear. You stare at him for a moment, his eyes meeting yours a second later.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” You say softly as you grip your reins tightly ready to lead your horse out of the stables.

“Just be careful.” He mutters, stepping aside to give you space to leave. His words make your heart jump again. Your eyes linger on each other as you walk past, a quick nod shared between the two of you as a goodbye.

On today's ride, you decide to aim for a bundle of trees sitting at the base of a small mountain to the west of the southern gate that you had noticed a while back. A couple hours pass before your destination comes into view. By your estimate, you had about an hour before being forced to head back lest you be surrounded by darkness.

You stare into the thick trees as you hand feed a treat to your tied off horse, an abrupt nip at your fingers alerting you to your now treat-less palm. A small laugh escapes your lips as you pat her nose reassuringly.

"I'll be back, okay? Don't go anywhere." You whisper up at her wide eyes. She bids you goodbye with another nip.

As you make your way through the overgrown shrubbery and gangly trees, you can't help but feel excitement for what might be on the other side. Looking up, you use a hand to half cover your eyes from the late afternoon sun filtering in between the leafy branches. Bird song weaves through the now thickening trees and into your ears. You softly whistle the song back as your fingers fumble with the latches on your waist. After a moment, the sketchbook you currently use as a guidebook is free from its confines. As always with every expedition you've ever been on, you are ready to document anything you see and hear.

It takes several more minutes before you finally stumble into a clearing. Whatever you had expected to find, it was leagues under from your current display. A meadow, far grander than anything you've ever seen, expands in an oval in front of you. Trees surround the whole area tall and strong, like knights in a line of defense. A small stream cuts through diagonally, telling stories with its gentle babble. You step deeper into it all with your eyes as wide as can be, soaking in this picture-perfect moment.

Looking down as you walk, your eyes become overwhelmed with the multitude of colors peppering your vision. Flowers of various sizes and lengths shift in the breeze as you walk by and something in you warms. Your eyes catch something that makes you stop abruptly.

“Oh wow.” You whisper as you slide down to your hands and knees so that you are eye level with a particular looking plant that didn’t very much look like a flower at all. The stem is brown, an odd color, you think, but it looked like a normal stem at least. The top however, where the petals would be, was soft and… furry? You reach out and lightly touch it. Much to your surprise, some of the fuzzy bits detach and fly off into the wind. A burst of laughter escapes from your chest and a memory stirs within you at the sight.

Armin had talked to you about these plants - dandelions. According to him, if you blow on the white bits to make them scatter and make a wish at the same time, it will come true. It was so silly, you think, but really what could it hurt? People wish on shooting stars all the time - this would be no different.

It takes you a moment, but you find a dandelion perfect for the wish you had in mind. You decide to plop yourself into the plush grass next to the creek, flower in hand. You feel a rush of heat sear your cheeks at not only what you were about to do but also what you were about to wish for. After making sure you were alone with a quick survey around, you sit forward and stare hard at the white fuzz. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath.

“I wish for Levi to be mine.” Then blow.

Levi calls your name from behind, snapping you out of your anxious thoughts for a moment. You pull back on your reins until Levi can fall into step with you. When you glance over, he arches an eyebrow at you with a silent question of, "Where are we going?" He must have noticed your change in course, now heading west instead of straight south. To be honest, you wouldn’t have even noticed that you had shifted directions if Levi hadn’t said anything. This ride has become second nature to you. After your initial discovery, the meadow quickly became your fortress of solitude and you found yourself coming back again and again without thinking about it.

After weeks of patiently waiting, an opportunity to team up with Levi to check out the port construction progression finally came. Whether that came from luck or your constant pestering to Commander Hange, you didn't know. Regardless, you were both nervous and excited to finally share your most prized secret with Levi no less. All you give him in return for his silent question is a simple, "Trust me." before squeezing your thighs together then galloping off, leaving your captain in the dust.

The sun bares straight down by the time you and Levi make it to your makeshift hitching post just outside your favored path. On the ground next to it sits a half bucket of water and you give yourself a mental reminder to fill it the next time you’re here. Levi doesn't say anything as he ties off his horse, mirroring your movements with deft fingers. Nor does he say anything as you pull off the basket you had tied onto your saddle so long ago hidden with goodies you packed the night before. He still doesn't say anything as he follows you on the beaten path you’ve made from your many visits. Levi's silence was normal, and yet…

"Aren't you going to ask where I'm taking you? I could be leading you to your death, you know." You glance back at Levi, eyes locking on each other. His expression might be unreadable to most, but to you there was a subtle bliss written all over his face. You shoot him a smile while you wait for his answer.

"You asked me to trust you. So I'm trusting you. Besides, you can't take me on your own. You got a death wish?" He grumbles back to you.

"Who said I was alone?" You quip as you twist back around to watch where you were going, swinging the basket in your hands as you walk. Levi scoffs behind you. A comfortable silence blankets the both of you yet again.

It takes a bit but finally the clearing comes into view and those anxious thoughts start clouding your mind again. What if he thinks this is a waste of time? What if he thinks you're ridiculous for this? What if he doesn't share the same feelings for you as you do for him? Levi calls your name again to get your attention. God, you loved how he said your name.

Your eyes focus just as you step through with Levi in tandem. There's a gentle wind today; it blows through the multi-colored meadow in a way that makes the flowers look like they're dancing. The breeze is even soft enough that your favored dandelions stay intact, not a single seed threatens to blow away.

"Is this where you’ve been escaping to?"

"You notice?" You glance his way nervously. As usual, he has no significant emotion on his face, but to say he was emotionless would be a lie. His eyes shift from the babbling creek to the colorful field and then onto your face, eyes soft. The way he looks at you, it makes a part of you feel so alive and free.

"Sometimes." His comment makes you look away, a flush of heat already nipping at your cheeks.

"I-uh, I wanna show you something." You set off deeper into the meadow without checking to see if he’s following.

A moment later, you come upon the spot you had surveyed a couple days in advance, perfect for what you had in mind. In a swift motion, you pull out a blanket from the basket hanging from your arm and splay it on the ground. Once settled, you plop yourself down on the cloth to keep it from flying away. When you look up, Levi’s staring at you incredulously.

“Is this a date?” he asks dryly.

“Do you want it to be?” You ask, patting the empty spot next to you as you do. He hesitantly sits down next to you, unsure of what to do with his body but eventually settles on sitting crisscross like you. He stares over at you, a little bit of shock cracking through his still features. “Levi, I’m kidding. It doesn’t have to be. I just wanted to show you my favorite spot.” You mutter over to him, rolling your eyes. You swallow down your nerves. Maybe he isn’t as interested in you as you had hoped. As you start to unpack the basket of the lunch rations you had stowed away, he speaks up softly.

“I wouldn’t mind. It being a date, I mean.” His voice stays monotone, but his words make you double-take at him. Levi is flushed pink, starting from his neck then ending at the tips of his ears. A wide grin breaks out on your face as you finally comprehend what he just said.

“Really? Because this would have been so embarrassing if you didn’t feel the same way. I mean, I would have had to run away and start a new life somewhere else. When I talked to Mikasa about this, she was all ‘love like this only happens once in a lifetime.’ and it made me think that you might actually be the love of mi-“ You’re cut off by Levi’s nimble fingers pulling your chin in his direction, his face a lot closer than you remembered it being. He whispers your name again.

“Shut up.” And then his lips are on yours, soft and tender. You don’t remember much after that, but you do know that whatever they said about wishing on dandelions had to be true. And you couldn’t wait to wish upon many more in the meadow now shared between you and Levi.

taglist: @humanitys-strongest-bamf @averysmolbear @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @Dkbktk420 (idk why it won't let me tag you properly) If you'd like to join my taglist, please go here! Your information will never be shared. <3

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x gn!reader #levi ackerman x gn!reader #fluff #canon #canonverse #canon au #levi ackerman fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #dandelions #Spotify

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distoaste · 1 month

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Mad times all around

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m1ckeyb3rry · 2 months

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── THE GLASS PRINCESS // ONE

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You meet Mai, Ty Lee, and Prince Zuko.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: this is my first ever attempt at writing for atla despite how long ago i watched it and how much i’ve written since then HAHAH. tbh i don’t expect much to come of it but oh well we’ll see how it goes!! also this is an alternate universe — the extent of which things have been changed will become more apparent as we go along. also apologies in advance if anyone is ooc, i haven’t watched atla in forever so idk if i’ll get it right!

There was a pile of glass on the nightstand when you woke up. It glimmered in the light, the fire refracting on the shards and forming tiny little rainbows on the wooden floor. Rusty streaks stained the faceted tips, though, and you winced as you tried to imagine how that quantity of blood could’ve made its way there.

“It’s yours,” a girl said. You startled, for you hadn’t noticed her presence, but it seemed like that had been her plan. She stood in the corner, her clothes a dull maroon, her hair glossy black and eyes a sharp, dark shade. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she regarded you, but her face was otherwise smooth, betraying nothing.

“Mine?” you said, voice cracking from disuse. “What do you mean? The — the blood?”

“And the glass,” she affirmed. “In some sense, anyways. Some of the pieces, we had to pull out of you, and others were apparently just lying around where you were found. At least, that’s what Zuko said. I’m still not quite sure why he went and collected it all to bring back, though…”

You squinted at the glass, trying to find some familiarity in it, but there was none. You had no idea why you would be surrounded by it, nor why it would be embedded in you. The girl waited for a second, but when you did not speak, she scoffed.

“Sorry,” you said automatically.

“We’ve been waiting for you to wake up for so long,” she said, an accusatory note entering her voice. “Zuko refuses to say anything, and it’s not like we can bully the crown prince himself into telling us what happened, so you’ve been our only chance at figuring everything out.”

“Oh,” you said, a migraine building behind your forehead as you tried to go through the events that had led to your presence here, in this austere room, on this plush mattress. “I — I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” she repeated drearily. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again. “I really don’t. I’m telling the truth.”

In fact, you were rapidly coming to the conclusion that you didn’t know anything. Your childhood, your family, your home…there was nothing. Where your memories ought to be was a bleak stretch like night, barely interrupted by flashes of blue. You reached for that blue, for that lovely shade like sapphire, but it was always just out of your grasp, something you could never quite touch no matter how much you wanted to.

“How about I tell you what I know, and we go from there?” she said. You nodded, though you were only half paying attention to her. The rest of you was fighting back a panic that threatened to twist your insides, a dread that was rotting through you, both sensations borne from the fear that you would never remember anything again.

“Prince Zuko was banished from the Fire Nation and told only to return once he found the Avatar,” she said. “He found him eventually, found him many times in fact, but he wasn’t able to capture him. It’s irrelevant, though — he did do something just as impossible. That is to say, he infiltrated Ba Sing Se.”

You thought that you were probably supposed to be awed by this, but considering you had zero idea what any of it meant, you just felt further confused. Still, you smiled at her, hoping she would keep talking until something or another made sense.

“Fire Lord Ozai couldn’t ignore the opportunity. He sent an army to the prince’s aid, and under his command, they managed to destroy the Earth Palace and depose the royal family. The Earth Kingdom’s in shambles, and all but the most secretive resistance efforts have vanished,” the girl, who had still not introduced herself, continued.

“I don’t see what this has to do with me,” you said, ducking your head.

“Neither do the rest of us,” she said. “That’s what you were supposed to know. For some reason, the fact is that upon returning from Ba Sing Se, the prince had your body in tow. You were wrapped in so many bandages we couldn’t tell what you were at first, and then we thought you must be closer to a corpse than anything, but he insisted you were alive, and that we had to heal you.”

“The prince himself did such a thing?” you said. Even you understood what the magnitude of that title meant, what kind of person a prince was bound to be. And if that was the case, if this mysterious Zuko really was the prince of an entire nation, then why would he have sullied his victory with care for the brutalized body of a random girl?

“He did,” the girl said. “It was the first thing he saw to. Not the reclamation of his crown, but that you were being treated with the best technologies the Fire Nation has to offer. Don’t you think it’s strange? Worthy of investigation? Don’t you agree that we should be curious about what significance you have?”

“Yes, um, naturally,” you said, taken aback by the rapid-fire line of questioning. Despite her initially bland facade, she was surprisingly intense, relentless, even, the stark contrast between the two personalities enough to make you curl inwards.

“Maybe he loves you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at you, inspecting you critically. “I suppose it’d certainly be an explanation, though it wouldn’t give us any clues about who you are or why he might love you in the first place.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you said, shifting in your seat uncomfortably. “I don’t even know my own name, let alone whether I was in love with someone.”

“Don’t even know your own name?” the girl said, raising her eyebrows. “You really are pathetic. I’m impressed.”

“I can’t remember anything specific about my life. I know general things, of course. The color of the sky. The way the moon looks. But the history of the world, my own existence…these are things I cannot recall,” you said.

She appraised you with the beginnings of something like sympathy flickering in her irises. Clenching her jaw and deciding upon something, she straightened her back and turned to the door.

“I should tell Zuko you’re awake,” she said. “That’s what he told us to do, the instant you regained consciousness. I’ve put it off long enough.”

“Wait!” you said. “What’s your name?”

She glanced at you over her shoulder. You blinked at her, willing her to understand — that before you could meet this prince, you had to know something. Even if it was only as small as this girl’s name, you wanted to have at least one thing in your head, a word or other such piece of knowledge that you could cling to, that you could form a barrier around your mind with.

“Mai,” she said. She did not elaborate before slamming the door shut behind her, but it was enough for you. There was this one constant now — you knew a girl, and her name was Mai.

As you waited for Mai to return with the prince, you busied yourself with inspecting the room you were quartered in. You had mistakenly called it austere due to the lack of decorations hung up, but now that you had the chance to look closely, you noticed that the wall itself was covered with intricate, swirling designs engraved by a firm, steady hand. The blanket that had been drawn up around your shoulders and was now puddled around your hips was made of silk and stuffed with feathers, and its quality was such that it all but shimmered. This was not the kind of room that just anybody stayed in; it was a room fit for someone of high rank. A lady. And a lady you were not, yet here you sat, in this room that made you feel entirely out of place.

Only a few minutes had passed before the door slammed open, but it was not Mai nor any sort of prince who entered. It was another girl, as bubbly and cheery as Mai had been cool and collected. She beamed when she saw you sitting up and looking around, bounding over to place her hands on your shoulders.

“Hi! Hi, hi, I’m so glad you’re awake!” she said. You tried to smile back at her, but the exuberance was so jarring that you could not do anything but brace yourself against it.

“Thank you,” you managed to say as she shook you. “Who are you?”

“Ty Lee!” she said. You noticed that she had a habit of ending every sentence with her voice ticking up in delight, like she was perpetually thrilled with the world. It was even more of a contrast to Mai than you had anticipated, and you felt your head spinning as you tried to keep up with the differences.

“Did I know you before?” you said. She cocked her head.

“Huh? No, I have no idea who you are, just like you have no idea who I am. You sure are pretty, though! Even prettier when you’re not all passed out,” she said, miming fainting before beaming at you expectantly. You tried to laugh, but it was an awkward sound, clearly unconvincing.

“The same to you,” you said. “Er. Obviously, aside from the part about passing out.”

“Obviously!” she said. “Now, just stay very still, okay?”

You froze in place immediately, wondering what she was going to do but trusting that it would not be anything harmful. Or, perhaps trusting wasn’t quite the right word for it — you just had no choice but to obey, because you had no other metric for what was correct. Whether Ty Lee wanted to help or harm you, you couldn’t know for sure, but either way she would do something, and since she was only the second person whose face you had seen, you had to let her do it.

She jabbed her pointer fingers into your neck, side, and wrists, all in a quick, precise succession. You waited for something to happen, but there was nothing, and when she raised her eyebrows at you, you could only furrow your own in a non-answer.

“Felt nothing?” she said. You nodded in the affirmative. “Interesting.”

“Was I supposed to?” you said.

“I dunno!” she said. “I guess we’ll see once the others get here.”

“What do the others have to do with it?” you said. At this, she winked and raised her fingers to her lips, as if you two were sharing some silly secret.

“If I tell you, then that’ll ruin things! We can discuss it later, but for now, you have to keep it to yourself, okay?” she said.

“Why?” you said. It wasn’t accusatory; you were genuinely curious.

“Let’s just say that certain parties would not be pleased if they found out what I was doing,” she said, giggling nervously and glancing at the door. “And those parties aren’t the kind you really want to offend, so please just keep your mouth shut!”

“Don’t want to offend? Who, like Prince Zuko?” you said.

Before Ty Lee could respond, there was a knock at the door. She scrambled away from you, so that she was standing in the same corner Mai had been in, looking demure and respectful. It was like she had never spoken to you in the first place, and when she had arranged herself suitably, she motioned towards the door.

“Me?” you said.

“Yes, you!” she said. “It’s your room, isn’t it?”

“I would hardly know,” you reminded her. She considered this before making a face in agreement.

“Right, there is that fact. Anyways, yes. This isn’t a hospital wing or anything, it’s your room, which means that when someone knocks, it’s up to you to tell them if they can come in or not,” she said.

“You didn’t knock,” you said. Ty Lee cleared her throat.

“Ah, well, I’m from a Fire Nation family! People of higher rank are allowed to do things like barging in on others,” she said. “I can’t tell you the amount of times Princess Azula has stormed into my room without warning.”

“I see,” you said, mostly because you didn’t know who Princess Azula was or why she merited mention. “This must be a servant or something, then, considering they’re knocking on even my door.”

“Probably,” Ty Lee said. There was another knock, louder this time, and you swore under your breath as you realized you had forgotten to answer them.

“Come in!” you said, folding your hands in your lap and looking over at the doorway, wondering who it could possibly be.

To your surprise, it was a boy. He was dressed in fine armor, his dark hair tied back in a regal topknot, his features angular and his eyes a sharp gold. His face was set in a frown, but when he saw you, you thought you picked up on the faintest trace of happiness. Almost immediately, though, it was quashed by a scowl, so that you could not be quite sure if you had actually seen it or if you had just been imagining things.

Behind him was Mai, looking as bored as she had earlier, though she seemed marginally more excited to see Ty Lee than she had been when you had woken up. You supposed they must’ve been friends or something.

“You should bow,” Mai said, directing the statement at you.

“No way!” the boy said immediately, waving his hands in dissent before you could even move. “I mean, ah, she doesn’t have to do that. It’s fine.”

“Woah! That’s crazy, Zuko, normally you’re all about honor and tradition and whatnot!” Ty Lee said. “It’s strange to hear something like that coming from you.”

So this was Prince Zuko, the boy who had, for some reason, saved your life. He was the only one who knew anything about your past. Your name, your identity, your origin…if you wanted to know any of these things, then your best chance at finding them stood before you, gazing at you with an inscrutable expression.

“Your royal highness,” you said, not bothering to get out of bed but dipping your head in what you hoped was a sign of respect anyways. He coughed awkwardly.

“Um. Yes,” he said.

“So,” Mai observed from the spot she had taken beside Ty Lee, “she’s awake now.”

“I see that,” Prince Zuko said. Mai rolled her eyes.

“Will you tell us who she is? Or why you insisted on saving her, maybe?” she said.

“Why don’t you ask her?” he said. “She’d know as well as I would. Maybe better.”

“I already tried,” Mai said. The prince’s scowl deepened, the corners of his mouth tugging further downwards at the offhand statement, his eyes flicking to you before returning to Mai.

“Of course you did,” he said. “And what did she say?”

“Nothing,” Mai said.

“She doesn’t remember anything,” Ty Lee said. “Not even her own name. You’re the only one left who can tell us anything about her.”

Something in Prince Zuko’s demeanor shifted at that moment. A despairing anger warred with resignation and defeat, but below the surface, some other emotion was hidden, kept locked tightly away, something that he was suppressing, so that no one could dare to even attempt to comprehend it.

“I see,” he said. “Is that the case?”

He was asking you. You did not look at him when you responded, focusing on the pile of glass still stacked on the nightstand.

“Yes,” you said. “Your royal highness. It’s the case.”

Prince Zuko considered this, and for a moment, there was an eerie silence in the room, as you all waited to hear what he would say. Who were you? Would he finally disclose it, or would you be further stranded in the darkness?

“Ursa,” he said finally.

“Your mother?” Mai said. He shook his head.

“No, not her. It’s — um, it’s her. Her name,” he said, jutting his chin in your direction.

“She has the same name as your mother,” Mai said flatly.

“Yes,” he said.

Ursa. That was your name. You didn’t feel some great reclamation of your identity upon hearing it; in fact, it meant nothing to you, except that at some point, people must have called you that.

“Is that why you saved her?” Ty Lee said. “Because she has the same name as your mother?”

“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s exactly why.”

“Really? We thought you might’ve been in love with her or something,” Mai said. “I guess this is in character enough, though.”

“How’d you find someone with a Fire Nation name in Ba Sing Se, though?” Ty Lee said. Prince Zuko gave her an irritated look; she only gazed at him innocently until he sighed and looked away.

“She had been taken prisoner on the front lines and brought to Ba Sing Se to be, er…tortured. For — for Fire Nation secrets,” he said.

“Why would they think an ordinary girl would have Fire Nation secrets?” Mai said.

“It’s not like Fire Nation citizens are easy to kidnap!” he snapped. “She might not know any vital information about the nation, but it was probably better than nothing!”

“Well, sorry for asking,” Mai said, rolling her eyes at him once again. It seemed her fuse was particularly shorter when it came to him, not that it had ever appeared to be particularly long to begin with.

“Do you think they got anything out of her?” Ty Lee said, in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject and break the tension. Prince Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” he said.

“I guess not. Not now that Ba Sing Se is ours and the rest of the Earth Kingdom has all but fallen,” Ty Lee said.

“Right. Even if they found out anything from her, it didn’t help them in the end,” he said.

“What should we do with her?” Ty Lee said. “Poor girl, she doesn’t even know her lefts from her rights!”

“Uh, I do know that much…” you interjected. Ty Lee paid you no mind, continuing to speak to Prince Zuko like you weren’t there.

“She can’t live in the palace like this forever!” she said. “But she’s like a blind little child, alone in the world. Where can she even go?”

Prince Zuko looked at you, and then he exhaled heavily. You swallowed, waiting for his judgment, knowing that he now held your life in his hands, wondering what he would decide, wondering what fate was in store for you. For Ursa. Since you both were one and the same, after all.

“Send her to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. They’ll teach her what she needs to know to be a proper Fire Nation girl,” he said.

“She’s not a noblewoman, though,” Mai said.

“Do you think the headmistress will argue with me if I say I want her admitted?” Prince Zuko shot back, though there was a tinge of insecurity, a questioning undercurrent, like he really wasn’t sure if he would get away with it or not.

“Nope,” Ty Lee said. “But do you think she — Ursa — can handle it? I mean, we were there, right, Mai? You remember how it was.”

“It’s a tough environment,” Mai agreed. You could tell what she was thinking: what place did a girl who came to the palace covered in bandages and glass, in the arms of a once-banished prince, have in a royal academy? “She’ll be eaten alive there.”

“And what if someone challenges her to an Agni Kai?” Ty Lee said. “Do you think she could win that? Is she that good at bending?”

“She’s not a Firebender,” Prince Zuko said.

“Why was she on the front lines if she’s not even a Firebender?” Mai said before pausing. “Never mind. I don’t feel like listening to your dramatics when you explain. But, you know, she’ll struggle that much more without bending to protect her.”

Prince Zuko’s face settled into a pensive mask of thought before he lit up, brandishing his pointer finger as if he’d come up with the idea of the century. Mai did not look amused, though Ty Lee seemed fascinated by what he might say.

“Ty Lee! You ran away from school to join the circus, right?” he said. Ty Lee went from looking fascinated to nervous, but she nodded.

“Yes, but I’m back now, so I don’t know why you’re bringing that up,” she said.

“My sister doesn’t have any immediate need for you,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Maybe it’s time you finally finish your education for good.”

“You want me to go back to the Royal Fire Academy?” Ty Lee repeated. Prince Zuko nodded.

“Yes, that’s right. You can watch out for her,” he said, jabbing his pointer finger at you.

“What will Azula say?” Ty Lee said.

“It’ll be fine,” Mai said. “If she needs you, you can just take a vacation from school or something. It’s better that you do this than laze around the palace.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you said quietly, speaking up of your own volition for the first time. “To anyone. I’m just grateful that you saved me, Prince Zuko. The rest of it is unnecessary. You don’t need to force the royal academy to accept me, and you don’t need to make Ty Lee come just to watch out for me. It’s enough that I’m alive. I can make my own life from here.”

“You don’t know anything. How can you expect to make a new life when you don’t even remember the one you’ve had until this point?” he said.

“I suppose there might be some benefit to Ursa going to school,” Mai added. “As long as she can survive the academy, it’ll be good for her. She can get caught up on everything she doesn’t remember, and it’ll be in an environment where her classmates are the children of the Fire Nation elite, so she can make further connections with people in high places.”

“Maybe she can find someone who has a brother she can date!” Ty Lee said, swooning.

“No!” Prince Zuko said. You all gave him strange looks; when he noticed, he turned a red as bright as his garb. “It wouldn’t be proper. You know, since you’ll be attending in my name and all; if you date anyone, it’ll reflect on me. So you can only date the people I approve of.”

“Alright. If that’s what you think is best,” you said. The last thing you wanted was to make things difficult for the boy who had, by all accounts, saved your life.

“I do,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Mai said from the corner. “You know, Ty Lee, this reminds me of when Azula took us to the zoo that one time.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess it does!” Ty Lee said, covering her mouth with her hand as she giggled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Prince Zuko said.

“Is there a zoo nearby?” you said. “I don’t remember ever going to one. I’d like to visit, if it’s possible.”

“I’ll take you!” Ty Lee said. “When we have a break from school and classes and all.”

“So you’ll go with her?” Prince Zuko said. Ty Lee huffed.

“I don’t really have much of a choice, do I? Besides, I’m sure Azula will be happy to hear I’m pursuing my education in my downtime instead of just doing nothing. And you know I’d do anything to make her happy!” she said before cartwheeling over to where you were still situated in your bed, throwing her arms around you affectionately. “We’re going to be classmates, Ursa!”

“I look forward to it,” you said genuinely. Ty Lee tapped you on the forehead.

“Me too!” she said.

“You are?” Mai said. “I don’t remember you ever liking the school, Ty Lee.”

“I don’t,” she said, abruptly wilting. “Everyone was so mean there. But my parents will probably be happy, and at least I’ll get to spend more time with Ursa! Maybe I’ll be the only one around when she regains her memories, and I’ll get to hear her story in her own words first.”

“For the sake of the prince’s mental wellbeing, let’s hope that’s not the case,” Mai said. Prince Zuko did not even respond, too busy inspecting the glass on your bedside to rise to the barb.

“Fine, then,” he said. “Make sure she’ll have everything she needs to attend the academy.”

“Which one of us was that pleasantly worded command directed towards?” Mai said.

“Whichever one of you has the time to do it, I guess,” he said. “This is the glass that came with her?”

“Yes. On the subject, why’d you go and collect so much of it? What a waste of time that must’ve been,” Mai said.

“I don’t know,” Prince Zuko said, sweeping the glass into the small bag lying on the ground by the nightstand. “I thought it might be important in healing her or something. I mean, you know, how could the healers understand what they were pulling out of her unless they saw it?”

Mai did not seem to believe him, but to your surprise, she did not question him further on the topic, only nodding. Maybe she respected him just a bit more than you had thought, though considering your original hypothesis had not exactly been favorable for the prince, this didn’t mean much.

“Where are you taking that?” she said instead, motioning towards the bag. “To dispose of it?”

“Yeah,” Prince Zuko said. “I’ll have it taken to the incinerator.”

You felt a twinge in your stomach. “Do you have to?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said.

“That glass is my only link to who I was before. Even if it was a bad memory, at least that memory was mine,” you explained. “I — I know it’s strange, but I feel like if you destroy it, you’ll destroy me, in some sense.”

“Ursa…” Ty Lee said, helplessly sympathetic, grasping your hands in her own. “It’s just glass. It can’t tell you anything about yourself, besides the fact that you were hurt during the fall of Ba Sing Se.”

“Your royal highness,” you beseeched Prince Zuko, who shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably at the title. “I know you have already done so much for me, so it is in bad taste for me to ask you for another favor, but please do not send that glass to be burnt away. Please save it. At least until I remember why it was there in the first place.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “It’s waste material. Nothing good will come of you keeping it. Nothing at all will.”

“I just—” you began before breaking off. “Never mind. I’m sorry for asking.”

“Zuko, maybe you should just do it,” Mai said.

“Leave it, Mai,” Ty Lee said. “He’s made up his mind. Even we can’t change it once he’s like this.”

Both of them looked at him, but he only picked up the bag and tucked it under his arm.

“I’m leaving now,” he said. “Don’t come after me.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone in the room with Mai and Ty Lee. Both of them seemed sorry, and actually, unlike what you had expected, Mai was the first to speak up.

“I’m sorry, Ursa,” she said. “He’s always been the temperamental sort.”

“It’s okay,” you said, still unused to being referred to as Ursa, even if it was the name you had supposedly bore for your entire life. “He and Ty Lee are right, after all. It’s just glass. Trash. What use could I really derive from something like that? If that’s all that’s left of my old life, then maybe I’m better off not remembering at all.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Mai said. “But if it makes you feel better, we won’t argue, right, Ty Lee?”

“Hm? No, we won’t,” Ty Lee said.

“What’s gotten you all distracted?” Mai said. Ty Lee shook her head.

“It’s nothing. By the way, can you help me pack for the academy? I’m worried I’ll forget something,” she said.

“That, or you want me to do it all for you,” Mai said.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that!” Ty Lee said.

“I’m just joking,” Mai said, but since her voice remained that same steady deadpan, it was hard to tell. “Yes, I’ll help you, and I’ll get things ready for Ursa, too. That way she can leave as soon as Zuko gets her admitted into the academy. Let’s be honest — the sooner she can get out of here, the better.”

“That’s true,” Ty Lee said, though when she noticed your downcast expression, she rushed to reassure you. “Don’t feel bad!”

“It’s not a problem. I understand; you’ve already wasted so much time and so many resources on taking care of me. It’s only logical that you’d want me gone,” you said.

“It’s not like that,” Mai said. “There’s just people in this palace that you’d be better off never meeting. It’ll be good if you can get out before you have that displeasure. That’s all.”

“I see,” you said. “Then thank you once again for doing your best to look out for me.”

“We’ll leave you alone for a bit,” she said. “I’m sure this has all been a lot to process, so it’ll be good for you to come to terms with it on your own time.”

“Bye, Ursa! See you soon!” Ty Lee said.

“Bye,” you said, though your farewell was lacking much of her cheer. Even if Mai was right, you didn’t really want to sit alone. You had nothing to think about or do in the solitude, so what good would you gain from it? But you could hardly beg them to stay, not when you did not know them and they did not know you, so you only watched as they left you sitting by yourself in silence.

It was only when the moon was high in the sky that your door creaked open once more. You were still awake — you had been having trouble getting to sleep, so you had tentatively begun to walk around your room, testing your legs, familiarizing yourself with the motions of walking once more. When you heard footsteps, though, you immediately grew still, hoping that the visitor would be someone you recognized and not someone with more nefarious intentions.

You had been expecting, or perhaps hoping, that it would be Mai or Ty Lee, but to your surprise, it was Prince Zuko. He was not wearing armor, and his hair was loose and messy around his face, but there was no doubt that it was him.

“How much do you really remember?” he said without formality or even a greeting. “Hey. Tell me the truth, at least.”

“What do you mean?” you said. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I mean, have you really forgotten everything?” he said.

“Yes,” you said. “There’s nothing but a vast darkness whenever I try to look back at the time before I woke up here. I don’t remember a single thing about myself. I didn’t even know my name until you said it.”

He cocked his head at you, trying to discern if you were being truthful, and eventually he must’ve come to some conclusion, because he just buried his face in his hands.

“Okay,” he said.

“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” you said.

“It depends on who you’re asking,” he said. “And if you’re telling the truth.”

“I am!” you said.

“I believe you,” he said.

“Well…” you said. “There is one thing. Sometimes, in between the darkness, I’ll see something blue. I don’t know what it might represent, but I know that it’s there. It’s the only other thing I can recall — that precise shade like jewel-paint.”

“That could be anything,” he said.

“Yes, I know that,” you said. “That’s why I wouldn’t have even mentioned it ordinarily. Maybe something important to me was that color, or maybe there was just a blue tapestry on the wall where I was injured. There’s no concrete explanation, but I wanted you to know the full truth.”

“So that’s it, then,” he said.

“I suppose it is. On another subject, do you really mean to have me attend the Royal Fire Academy for Girls?” you said.

“You’ve already been accepted,” he said. “You’ll go. It’ll be alright.”

“Mai and Ty Lee didn’t seem to think so,” you said.

“You’re stronger than both of them, by far,” he said. “If they survived, you will, too.”

“Yet I’m the one that was captured,” you reminded him. “I don’t see how that makes me the stronger between us.”

A ghost of a smile flashed over his face. “You may not believe it, but at least to me, you are.”

“Did you know me very well, then, to be saying that with such confidence?” you said. “Before you found me that day? Were — were we friends?”

You didn’t want to say anything else, for it seemed presumptuous, but friends was close enough to what you were really asking that you figured the prince would understand.

It seemed that he did, but he did not appreciate the implication, for his face closed off and his posture grew withdrawn. Turning away from you, he pursed his lips.

“No,” he said. “We weren’t anything. You didn’t know me, and I didn’t know you. I only saved you because — because you and my mother share a name. That’s all.”

“It’s strange,” you said. “That name doesn’t even feel like it’s my own. Is it the amnesia that causes such a phenomenon?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But you shouldn’t overthink it. Have fun at the Royal Fire Academy, Ursa. I’ll give you a messenger hawk; write to me frequently. And — and if you remember anything…”

“If I remember anything?” you prodded.

“Tell me first,” he said. “Not Ty Lee. Not anyone else. Me.”

#zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla #reader insert #the glass princess #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu · 1 year

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The story of how Mordred called Merlin mom and then proceeded to call Arthur dad and now he's adopted into the family

Author: Me aka @dalazygamerneko

Inspired by @tongjaitongjai merthur idea, check out it out here: 🐓x🐦=🐣

♤•°•♡•°•♤•°•♡•°•♤•°•♡•°•♤•°•♡•°•♤

It was ordinary day. Birds were singing, training went well and the maids were busy but happily chatting.

Nothing could go wrong Mordred thought as he made his way to the afternoon roundtable meeting when he came across Merlin or Emrys as he is known amongst druids, quickly he hid into an alcove and gazed in envy at Lord Emrys, no, Merlin smiling and holding a little boy in his arms.

It's moments like these that he wished he knew his mother longer but he could barely remember her. He watched quietly at the soft look in Merlin's eyes and utter joy upon the little boy's face as they hugged each other, Mordred wondered if his mother would've looked at him the same way Merlin did.

He sighed, leaning back against the stone walls Mordred couldn't help but want to revert back into being a child again just so Merlin wouldn't gaze coldly at him, albeit he probably deserved it for the words of hatred he said in his youth. He knew now Merlin never meant to lead those knights towards his camp. That the warlock was only trying to help Morgana.

"What can I do to earn your trust?"

Mordred shook his head, he'd think of something maybe ask one of the knights for help? He's noticed that Sir Lancelot and Sir Gwaine are closer to Merlin than the other knights.

'They're also the most protective of him' Mordred thought dryly, a crease upon his brow as multiple ideas popped into his mind and many he shot down knowing it won't work.

"Well, I'll just have to hope the triple Goddess guides me." Mordred mumbled, he looked out into the hallway, Merlin was gone, most likely doing chores for the King.

Mordred chuckled as he continued walking, he would never understand the relationship Emrys and the once and future King had with each other. There were times they seem like close comrades begrudging in their respect for one another and then other times they would argue fondly like any old married couple.

Not surprising when plenty of townsfolk as well as even the nobles have speculated in the past if Merlin was being courted by Prince Arthur, to any outsider it certainly looked that way therefore Merlin was given the "mistress" treatment.

Now everyone are wondering(more like waiting impatiently) when will the King announce his engagement to Merlin.

"If I remember correctly, doesn't Sir Gwaine have a bet going on?"

Mordred pondered. 'Yeah, I'll definitely join in. There's no way they're NOT together. I mean, I've seen the lingering stares they give each other as if there is no one around them.'

Soon he was at the doors leading to the roundtable meeting, nodding at the vigilant guards they let him through. His eyes slowly moved over the knights, nobles and some commoners before landing on Merlin who was standing behind the King's chair.

An unassuming figure, most often underestimated but to those who know magic deeply or follow the old religion, Emrys entire being is a vast ocean of wild magic swirling in such a magnitude that no mere mortal could ever understand or harness the power Emrys wields.

Then he locked eyes with Merlin, there is no icy stare thankfully, yet he can still see a hint of wariness in his Lord's gaze.

He bowed his head in acknowledgement before finding a seat next to the gossiping pair Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine.

"I could be at a tavern right now, drinking and charming the barmaid Stella instead I'm stuck here." Gwaine said with a miffed face, his hand gripping the air imagining he was holding a mug of ale.

Elyan who sat across from Gwaine raised an eyebrow, "Isn't Stella old enough to be your grandmother?"

Gwaine smirked whilst shrugging. "Just like wine the older one gets the finer they become, besides she has experience, I'm sure there's a thing or two she could still teach mmph—"

Leon had reached over to clamp Gwaine's mouth shut.

The ginger haired knight had just about enough of hearing Gwaine's tavern tales of debauchery to which he thought was an inappropriate topic to be discussed or heard at the roundtable meeting.

"Sir Gwaine, leave your nightly talks at the tavern only, please."

Gwaine pulled Leon's hand away and smiled cheekily at the older knight.

"Oh, but wouldn't you like to know? Stella has mentioned she likes ginger haired men with beards and I bet she could show you—"

"I am going to strangle you—"

Gwaine leaned back avoiding Leon's hands from trying to keep him quiet again.

"Sir Leon I never knew you were this kinky, I think dear old Stella would like to feel your big strong hands—ack!"

Leon finally got him, unfortunately the meeting was starting, so Gwaine was safe from being throttled by him. However, tomorrow morning during training he'll get his chance.

Mordred along with the rest of the knights chuckled at Sir Gwaine's antics and Sir Leon's annoyed expression.

♤To be continued♤

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coralcatsea · 10 days

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Another Colour/2ptalia Compilation

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evax3 · 8 months

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After a little time of rest, the Night's Watch elects a new Lord Commander.

AND NOW MY WATCH BEGINS

read here

and lots of love and a huge thank you to @st-clements-steps and @arielchelby for the amazing beta work 💙

#jonerys #snowstorm #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #house targaryen #jon x dany #asoiaf fanart #a song of ice and fire #canon au #dragons #the nights watch #digital fanart #fantasy art

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jomiddlemarch · 10 days

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and is there honey still

Kissing Mary Vance was nothing like kissing Faith.

This realization, occurring a moment after the kiss ended, Jem’s hand still at Mary’s slender waist, her normally pale cheeks as pink as a rare mayflower, was followed immediately by the understanding that he’d never be able to tell anyone. There was no confidant he could trust with such a secret, even if he could bring himself to so violate the rules of gentlemanly behavior. It just wasn’t done and that was before he considered speaking of kissing Mary Vance, who was accepted as Miss Cornelia’s adopted daughter, but whose personal history was never quite forgotten.

Susan, should she ever hear of it, would be scandalized beyond comprehension.

Jem would never eat another slice of her strawberry pie.

His friends and siblings would be confused, Faith put out, her pique covering any feelings of betrayal, for all that there was nothing binding between them.

Mother would be disappointed and Dad would shake his head.

The expression in Mary’s eyes, those queer eyes he now saw were the color of moonstones, told him she understood it all.

“It’s nothing to make a fuss about,” she said. Faith would have tossed her head making such a remark, her golden-brown curls shown to advantage, but Mary only looked at him steadily and let the hand that had been on his shoulder drop to her lap.

“You hold yourself too cheap, Mary,” Jem said.

“That ain’t—that isn’t possible,” she replied. “Anyway, what’s a kiss amount to?”

It was a good question, one Jem had thought he’d known the answer to, just as he thought he’d known the answer to the question she was laboring over at her desk in the empty classroom, a piece of paper scribbled over and crossed-out, grey smudges on the foolscap, on Mary’s white cuffs. She would’ve laundered them herself, being Miss Cornelia’s daughter not relieving her of her housekeeping duties, chores she’d call them though Jem knew none of his sisters had ever helped even pinning clean clothes to the line.

He supposed a kiss could be an ordinary thing, a peck on the cheek or the lips, a greeting, friendly and inconsequential as a wave, a forgettable gesture of a mild affection.

Kissing Mary Vance was nothing like that.

He could say, in all honesty, that he hadn’t planned it. He’d been pointing out something in her writing, a tricky bit she’d gotten tangled up in, and she’d been peering down at the page, trying to make it out. When she’d perceived her mistake, she’d looked up at him, her expression one he’d never seen before, victory and pride and delight all swirled together, altering her face from one he’d recognized without being aware of it into one he’d been startled to discover. Without a word, without a thought, he’d leaned in and kissed her parted lips before she crowed over her achievement or thanked him, the caress impetuous, a whim, irresistible.

She was irresistible. He’d grazed her lips with his own and in the space before the next heartbeat, he’d cupped her jaw with one hand and let the other drop to her waist to draw her close. He felt the most tremendous desire for her possess him, everything else dropped away. She tasted, quite impossibly, of honey, though that was perhaps because he had always liked honey best, and she was warm in his embrace, coming closer when his hand at her waist reached around her back, sighing a little when he stroked her cheek and angled her head to be able to kiss her more deeply. Every second, his desire for her ratcheted sharply upwards and she met him, her hand clutching his shoulder, her sharp tongue sweet in his mouth. She kissed the way a fast girl kissed but there was a terrible innocence to her response that made him know she’d never kissed anyone else, whatever she might have intimated to his sisters and her friends.

He couldn’t say why he’d broken away.

A sound in the hallway or her sudden stillness when his hand grazed her breast, the need to breathe, the pounding of his heart felt throughout his whole body.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Mary went on when he was stayed silent.

“Are you sorry?” he blurted out, and hearing the words he became suddenly terrified that he’d transgressed, become that monster Reverend Meredith always warned of in his gentle way, a man consumed by his appetites, greed and lust. “Oh, God, Mary, have I made you do something you didn’t want—”

“As if you could!” she said, wry again, Mary Vance again as he’d ever known her. If she’d wanted to, she would have slapped him, he was sure of that. “There’s no person living who could make me do what I didn’t want and certainly not you, Jem Blythe.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” he said, chastened, still too close to her. Still tasting the honey-sweetness of her lips, feeling the sound of the quiet moan of hers he’d swallowed in his throat.

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” she offered. “Or ever again. It could be just something that happened once, like as if you’d knocked over my inkwell, and we can forget about it. If that’s what you’d like. To be easy about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” he repeated, agreeing. An inkwell knocked over would leave a stain, one endless scrubbing would never entirely remove. “But I won’t forget. I shan’t.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” she said, her old tone mixed in with a new softness. He’d mussed her hair and some of the loose strands caught the light, a far cry from the usual trig appearance Miss Cornelia insisted upon. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see this Mary again, but it might be enough, to have seen it this one time. It was more Walter’s way to say he’d carry it as a talisman, but Jem felt it without saying it, that to have this moment might serve him well in the future.

“Mind you turn that paper in,” he said.

“Mind yourself, then,” she said and turned away.

He wouldn’t see Mary alone for another ten years.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Mary said, sitting down beside him, facing the water. She tucked her skirt around her and made no effort to conceal her sturdy, scuffed boots. It was a cool evening, cooler by the shore, but she didn’t have a coat or even the old wool shawl she’d refused to give up before he’d left for France. He shrugged off his own coat and offered it to her. He’d be warm enough in his heavy jersey, one the fisherman down at the harbor wore when the wind picked up.

“Not Rainbow Valley?” he said.

“Why would you go there? You’re not a child anymore. Haven’t been for a long time, unless I miss my mark,” she said.

“No, you’re right,” he said. “Not for a long time.”

“You don’t have to talk to me about anything. Not about the War or Walter or being a prisoner,” she said. She said it without any particular tenderness, which was the most consoling part. He recalled, very dimly, that before she had come to Miss Cornelia, she’d lived through her own horrors, yet spoke of them rarely if at all.

“Don’t have to tell me about any French girls either,” she added and he laughed.

It was the first time he’d laughed since he came home. Since he came back to the Glen, anyway, and called it home without being able to fully mean it.

“Not much to tell there. I mostly saw nuns and the Red Cross nurses are awfully brisk, whatever their nationality,” he said.

“I’ve always thought Cornelia would make a good nun, for all that she’s married,” Mary said.

“Perhaps,” Jem replied. The waves kept breaking on the sand and it was dusk, romantic if you wanted it to be. Mary had his coat wrapped around her shoulders. Jem felt scoured, raw and empty.

“Why’d you come, if you don’t expect me to talk?” he asked after several minutes of silence.

“I guess because you need someone who doesn’t expect you to talk but who’s willing to sit nearby, without fussing over anything,” she said. “I’ve plenty of handwork and housework to deal with at home. I’m perfectly content to sit and be idle and there’s nothing you can say or not say that can hurt me. I’m not hurt the way you are, I can bear whatever you need—”

“They can’t at home,” he said. Mother, with grief in her grey eyes and grey in her auburn hair, and Rilla, grown into a mother before she was a wife, Dad with something more broken inside him than any of the rest. Susan and Dog Monday and the letters from Di and Nan, blotted and halting. Una, who might as well be one of the French nuns who tended him, all of them mourning Walter and trying to rejoice at his return. Jem, trying to keep them from hearing any of his nightmares, biting his tongue when they spoke at a meal of the future or the past.

“I know,” she said. “Faith Meredith’s married a Brit. Officer, Lord Something Hoity-Toity of Fancy Abbey-on-High.”

“I’m happy for her,” Jem said tiredly. “We were childhood sweethearts, that’s all.”

“I know. Just wanted it said so you’d know I know,” Mary replied.

“If she’d waited, I wouldn’t have wanted her. I wouldn’t want her to have me now, as I am,” he said. “Befouled, diminished—”

“Walter’s dead, Jem. You don’t have to speak in his voice,” Mary said.

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were. If you don’t think I’d remember, after all those afternoons, those walks and rambles, listening to him, well then. You’d be wrong. I remember,” she said.

“I want Faith to stay as she is. Beautiful, golden, untouched, a lovely memory from my splendid childhood,” Jem said.

“Good Lord, she’d far better off than I thought, even without taking a castle into account,” Mary exclaimed. “Maybe her Lord Gawain-Excalibur-Avalon actually treats her like a women. A person.”

“I didn’t know you liked the Arthurian legends,” Jem replied, taken aback by Mary’s remark, choosing to deflect.

“I liked the sword. And the Lady of the Lake with her own place,” Mary said.

“I thought it would be like that, the War, knights going out,” he said. “I knew there’d be wounds and death, but I thought there’d be honor—"

“You always were a bit of a fool,” Mary said. “Stands to reason though, the way you were raised.”

“We had a—you’re right,” he said, realizing he did not have to defend his parents or Ingleside. “Mother was so careful for us to be well-loved. To live in a world where we might imagine ourselves heroes or able to speak with the fairies—you would have done better than I at the Front, Mary.”

“No one would do better,” she said. He braced himself for her to talk about his medals, his valiant efforts in the prison camp, how he tended those around him with what little he had. How many men had died in his hands, their blood the scent in his nose as terrifying as gas. “You lived.”

“It doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Come here, then,” she said, shifting to kneel facing him. The moon had risen and it suited her, her eyes gleaming like opals, her hair silver, the shadow soft around her bare throat. She reached a hand to touch his cheek, rough with the whiskers he hadn’t shaved for the past few days. “Come here, James,” she said and the sound of his name startled him enough to move closer. To let her draw his face to hers for a kiss.

For a moment, he was seventeen again and Walter was alive, the fields of France green, the chestnut trees in leaf. Then he heard a wave break and felt Mary’s hand move to the nape of his neck, her fingers callused, and he tasted salt mixed with honey. She beckoned him and he put his arms around her, holding her tightly, trying to lose himself in her embrace. Letting her find him.

They were alone with the moon and the sea. There was no hallway and Mary kissed him well enough there were no memories, not of France or Germany or Holland, not of the ship or the train or the graveyard with the stone too white, the wilting mayflowers at its base. There was nothing Mary would not do, no end to the comfort she would offer. His hands were at her waist and her breast, eased beneath her skirts, and she coaxed him on. When he brought both back to cup her face, she’d smiled under his lips. When he lay back against the sand and brought her to lie next to him, her head resting upon his chest, she’d come with him.

“I should have asked, Miller Douglas?”

“He married Ada Parker six months ago. I didn’t shed a tear, except that they should be happy,” she said. “To be honest, I didn’t fancy being a shopkeeper’s wife, but I would have made the best of it.”

“I’m alive, but I don’t know what I have to offer,” Jem said. Mary thumped him on the chest, hard enough to notice, soft enough to be nothing more than a scolding.

“You’ve yourself and I’m myself. You don’t have to offer me anything,” she said.

“That’s the first lie you’ve told,” he said.

“Then remember me. This. How it was, how it might be,” she said. “Grieve and suffer and if you want, I’ll be there for it. Or you can come round in a while, when you’re sorted out. I’m in no hurry. I’ve an idea of how to run a doctor’s house, no offense to your mother or Susan, and I’d like to try it out some time.”

“Will there be much pie?” Jem asked.

“There will be honey-cake, pots and pots of clover honey ready to drizzle. That’s your favorite.”

“Call me James again,” he said.

She propped herself up on his chest so he could see her face, the curve of her lips, her silvery hair hanging loose around her cheeks.

“I believe you meant to say, please, James. Mind yourself, then.”

Tagging @gogandmagog who posted this:

DIANA, teasingly: “You, anyhow. I saw you kissing Faith Meredith in school last week ... and Mary Vance, too.”

JEM:- “For mercy’s sake, don’t let Susan hear you say that. She might forgive it with Faith but never with Mary Vance.” From The Blythes Are Quoted

And @freyafrida who wrote "also want to write jem/mary fic now although i have zero ideas for anything apart from the ship"

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leiawritesstories · 7 months

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A Visit to Orynth

Rowaelin Month, Day 24: How Rowan Knew "Fireheart"

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: canon has been edited because i said so, Maeve, royal politics, references to the blood oath and other canon fun

Enjoy!!

@rowaelinscourt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The prince first visited Orynth when he was a young male, barely twenty-four years old. His parents frequently traveled for diplomatic reasons, and they’d invited him to accompany them for the first time that year. We won’t ask you to do anything, they promised. Just come along and get a sense for what the world of politics is like.

Prince Rowan Whitethorn had never been a fan of politics. He preferred steel to statecraft–give him a broadsword or a pair of hatchets any day.

But he went to Orynth that spring, and for some reason that he couldn’t name, he felt oddly at home in the sprawling city with its unusual but somehow perfect blend of stone buildings and patches of greenspace like little meadows dotting the cobbled streets.

He left most of the diplomacy and politicking to his parents, who spent most of their days holed up in council chambers with Queen Elena and King Brannon and their court. The first couple of days, he had to attend the sessions, and he paid as much attention as he could before resorting to drawing little battle diagrams on his note sheets. His father noticed, but said nothing, only muffled his knowing smile and quietly directed Rowan towards the training yard. So Rowan spent the rest of that visit with the palace guards, sparring and training and exchanging technique and tactical notes with the highly skilled military.

That was the last time he visited Orynth for nearly three centuries.

Upon his return to Doranelle, Rowan entered the legions, and he barely saw his home or his family for the next three hundred years. He rose swiftly through the ranks, ascending rapidly to the rank of captain before he was seventy-five years old. His queen took notice of his prowess, and he was inducted into the bloodsworn legions, an honor granted to precious few warriors. The decades he spent serving closely under the queen’s command honed him into a warrior of near-impossible capacity, and honed his heart into a block of ice, as impassive as the glaciers of the far north.

Prince Rowan Whitethorn was three hundred and thirty years old the second time he visited Orynth.

Erilea had been casually discussing their relations with Doranelle for the last century, and it had finally reached a point where the rulers of the Erilean kingdoms decided to host a summit and invite representatives from Wendlyn and Doranelle. Wendlyn, of course, sent a delegation of Ashryvers, who were relations of the royal family of Terrasen. Maeve called together her bloodsworn and chose two of them to accompany the five selected Fae delegates.

“I trust you will keep your Queen aware of the discussions,” she purred, a deceptively soft smile gracing her lips as she handed Rowan and Vaughan their notes for the talks.

Rowan dipped his head in acquiescence. “Of course, Majesty.”

Three weeks later, as he stepped off the ship and set foot into Terrasen for the second time in his life, he drew in a lungful of the crisp, clear mountain air, and found that its scent comforted a part of him that had been empty and aching since his parents passed away.

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, occupying himself instead with the concerns of the discussions. Maeve had sent him–her legendary warrior-prince–for a reason, despite his lack of diplomatic skill, and he intended to prove that he could hold his own at a meeting full of human royalty. And if things went poorly, then he could fall back onto Vaugahn’s quiet, diplomatic tact.

King Orlon Galathynius greeted the Doranelle contingent as they entered the council room on the first day of the summit. The human king was aging, but the lines around his eyes and the gray of his hair only strengthened his image as a capable, compassionate leader. According to what Rowan knew, Orlon had ruled Terrasen for nearly twenty years and showed no signs of abdicating soon, although his younger brother, Crown Prince Rhoe Galathynius, worked closely with the king.

“Welcome to Terrasen,” King Orlon said warmly, clasping Rowan’s hand in a firm handshake that proved he retained his physical strength. “It’s an honor to welcome Doranelle back to our land.”

“The honor is ours.” Rowan dipped his head in a bow to the king. He bowed lower for his own Queen, but the courtesy was still due.

Inside the meeting chamber, a dark-haired, younger version of Orlon approached Rowan and Vaughan and exchanged greetings. “Rhoe Galathynius. Pleasure to meet you in the flesh, Prince Whitethorn, Lord Recorre.”

“Please, leave off the title, Highness.” Rowan shook Rhoe’s hand, noting the insignias the human prince wore on his jacket–military rankings. “We’re all just delegates for peaceful relations, aren’t we?”

“Indeed.” Rhoe smiled. “Let me show you to your seats; this room is rarely used, so it’s always a nightmare to navigate. I keep telling Orlon we need to use the throne room, but he–ah, Evalin!” A stately, golden-haired woman with the distinctive turquoise eyes of the Ashryver family and a slender silver circlet around her brow had walked up and laid her hand fondly on Rhoe’s arm. He tucked her arm into his with a soft, tender smile. “Vaughan, Rowan, allow me to introduce Princess Evalin Ashryver, my lovely and far more talented wife.”

“Welcome back to Orynth,” Evalin smiled. “It’s been far too long since we hosted Queen Maeve’s people.”

In that moment, Rowan knew two things with absolute certainty. First, Princess Evalin Ashryver knew that he and Vaugahn were bloodsworn–he didn’t know how she knew, but she did. And second, if her lineage (and her scent) were correct, she was a direct descendant of the Fae Queen Mab, Maeve’s sister, and therefore was most likely the Fae Queen of the West.

Suddenly, he wondered if he’d been sent to Orynth to view Evalin with his own senses and bring knowledge of the Ashryver princess back to Maeve.

The sonorous peal of the great brass gong tore Rowan away from his thoughts.

“Ah, we’re about to start.” Rhoe dipped his head at Rowan and Vaughan. “It truly is an honor to host you in Orynth. Please, attend dinner with Evalin and I.” He flicked a half-grin at his wife. “We’d better get to our seats, Fireheart.”

Fireheart.

“You and your misleading nicknames,” Evalin teased as she and Rhoe walked off. Rowan’s Fae hearing picked up their conversation. “I don’t have the fire gift, my love, only the water. Fire is Brannon’s line’s gift.”

“You have the fire in your heart, my love,” Rhoe returned. “And who knows? Perhaps someday the gift will manifest in one of our children, if we’re so blessed.”

“It’s a slim chance.” Evalin’s whisper contained an ocean of sadness.

“It’s still a chance, Fireheart.” Rhoe kissed his wife’s forehead.

Rowan stopped listening then, overcome by what he’d just learned. The fire gift. It wasn’t a myth after all–the gift of fire magic laid dormant in the royal bloodline of Terrasen, and the intersection of the Ashryver and Galathynius lines with Rhoe and Evalin’s marriage just might be enough for the near-mythical gift of Brannon Galathynius’s fire to manifest again.

Fireheart. So the prince’s affectionate name for his wife was more than just an endearment–it was a wish for their future. For their kingdom’s future.

Fireheart.

Rowan went to Orynth again ten years later, but this time, he went uninvited. He shifted into his hawk form when his small ship had docked in the harbor, and he remained in that form for the entirety of the next few days. He went to Orynth not to negotiate or pay a formal visit, but to linger on the parapets of the castle and pick up conversation.

He went as a spy.

On his last night in Orynth–a blustery, rainy night–Rowan perched on a window ledge and pressed his hawk body as close to the window glass as possible without making a terribly loud noise. He stretched his Fae senses down and out, into the dining room below his perch, and strained to hear the conversation taking place in the room. The royal family of Terrasen was hosting the royal family of Adarlan, and rumor had it that relations between Adarlan and every other Erilean kingdom were tense, if not outright hostile.

Rowan couldn’t make out much of the conversation, but he heard enough. Bits and pieces of politely veiled threats, the sneer behind the king of Adarlan’s tone, the uncomfortable shifting of the staff and guards who stood at the edge of the room–it pointed towards looming conflict. He hopped off his perch and flew up to a window he knew was in Rhoe and Evalin’s chambers. Perhaps he’d hear something worthwhile from them.

It wasn’t long before the prince and princess came wearily into their rooms, speaking in hushed tones about the poor signals from Adarlan.

“I’m worried, Rhoe,” Evalin admitted. There was a soft clink as she laid her jewelry on top of the dressing table. “There’s something bigger than just Adarlan at play here.”

“Something magical?” Rhoe asked.

“It’s possible. I…I don’t think it’s purely magical, though. That ring of Adarlan’s…I can’t describe it, but I felt like it was looking at me, almost like it wanted to claim me.”

Rowan gripped his perch with all the strength of his taloned feet, determined not to slip despite his shock.

“Fireheart,” Rhoe breathed, coming over to embrace his wife, “are you certain? I trust your judgment–I have no way of detecting magic–but…” He took a deep, measured breath. “A wrong move from Adarlan could constitute war, and if there’s magic at play…”

“It could end us all,” Evalin whispered.

Rowan had heard enough. Quietly, he hopped off the window ledge and launched himself up into the wind and rain, his thoughts churning as rapidly as the storm. Adarlan. Magic. War. He hadn’t known what his Queen had wanted him to discover when she sent him to Orynth, but he’d bet his broadsword that it wasn’t rumors of magical war.

Three weeks later, when his ship docked back in Doranelle, Lorcan delivered the news, and the information he’d heard while spying suddenly clicked into place.

Adarlan had performed some kind of ritual that banished magic. The King of Adarlan had armies marching across Erilea to root out magic-users, and everywhere his army went, he claimed dominion. Melisande and Fenharrow had capitulated. Eyllwe seemed on the brink of collapsing. The Western Wastes and the Witchlands had separated.

And the entire royal family of Terrasen was dead.

Orynth was so different from the first time Rowan had set foot in the city, but the mountain breezes still smelled the same. The ancient and modern buildings and the winding cobblestone streets bore scars from the war, but new green life had begun to creep across the slashes and scuffs and scorch marks, blanketing the damage of war. The grand stone castle still crowned the city hill, but its doors were no longer barred. Instead, commoners and nobles and Fae–both full and partial–filtered in and out of the castle grounds, uniting the crown and the city.

The continent was healing, and his wife had made it all possible.

Speaking of…Aelin’s voice sounded in his mind. Is the castle really that bad, buzzard?

He grinned. I find my skills better suited to the physical act of rebuilding.

I know a physical act or two that could use your skills.

I’m sure you do, Fireheart.

A surge of her love filled his mind. Where are you?

Near the western wall.

Solitary buzzard. He felt her bright laughter ripple through his blood, warming him through. I’ll be there in a moment.

And a few minutes later, she was there, her crown tipped sideways atop her messy hair. “Rowan.”

“Fireheart.” He set the one last stone into place in the section of wall he was working on, turned, and pulled her against his chest, reveling in the trace of embers that always followed her.

“You keep avoiding court when I need you,” Aelin teased. “Who else is going to scowl at the lords when they say something idiotic?”

“I’m sure you can handle that,” he drawled. “You are the queen, Fireheart.”

She chuckled and went quiet for a moment, gazing over the tumbled wall out into the evergreen hills. “I’ve been wondering, buzzard. Why ‘Fireheart?’ You can’t have known that’s what my parents called me when I was a child, even with all your centuries of knowledge.” Humor laced her last words.

“Are you calling me old, love?”

“Always.” She smirked. “Tell me, buzzard.”

Rowan was silent for a long moment, working over the story, wondering how much he could say before someone inevitably interrupted the queen’s private time with her husband. “I met Rhoe and Evalin, once, many years ago. I remember Rhoe calling Evalin Fireheart.”

Aelin stroked her thumb over the ruby of Rowan’s wedding band. “I never knew you met them.” I miss them, she murmured into his mind, muted grief shadowing her mind.

“Just once.” Cupping his free hand under her chin, he tilted her face up and kissed her, soft and tender, a gesture of both love and comfort. “You are everything they dreamed Terrasen would be.” I’m entirely sure they’re smiling down on you from the afterlife, he added.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He touched his forehead to hers. “I love you too, Fireheart.”

~~~

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