#decisions are need to be made to maintain peace and protect the kingdom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pangtasias-atelier · 1 year

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omg if requests are open could i ask for a feedee hrid as big as possible 🫣 maybe with feeder alfonse too 🫣🫣 thank u king

The very first request is done!

I am like still eternally salty I was never able to get Hrid when he first came out but he still kinda cute n hot ngl.

The blushing emojis made me go with like kinda embarassed Hrid from his size hehe

Hope you enjoy!

Warning: This is a fetish story!

"Are you ready to depart, your majesty?" The captain of the royal guard stands at the ready; her hand reflexively rests at her sword despite the current maintained state of peace in Zenith. Though her current on guard state is a bit exacerbated by the traveling conditions, a small group of two being the only ones protecting both Askr's and Nifl's kings.

"I apologize for the earlier delays. Allow me the opportunity to check on one last detail," Alfonse smiles at his knight's demeanor, her vigilant nature always putting him at ease. A couple of years having passed by since the Order of Heroes disbanded, Alfonse had been officially crowned the rightful ruler of Askr. The two years kind to him, Alfonse had even grown a couple of inches, his frame broadening as well. With that, came a bit of pudge, the long days of managing the kingdom's affairs gifting him with the onset of a belly and an even more impressive set of wide hips and a doughy rear. Alfonse is currently on such an affair, traveling with Hrid who is now his husband.

The two of them traveling light, they had made the decision to only bring along one carriage. A rather large carriage however, Alfonse only needed one experienced driver to keep the two draft horses necessary to pull such large and heavy cargo. Getting the necessary size had been a rather rushed issue. The carriage far from the usual intricate designs, Alfonse's carriage is as close to the bare minimum that allows for sufficient cover and shelter. A large tarp is draped over the frame of it, the carriage even lacking a fully closed frame. The transportation seems absurdly ridiculous from its size, the wagon more akin to the lush, spacious foyers back in Askr castle from its sheer size alone. The vehicle seems like a moving fortress from its size.

Alfonse pulls at the flap of tarp on the end of the carriage. He sees that the massive chest is already loaded.

"We seem to be ready to depart," Alfonse offers his thanks and gratitude to both his knight and the drivers before heading into the carriage. Alfonse takes careful steps upon stepping inside with how crowded the carriage is.

The cargo practically takes up the entire width of the carriage and even most of its length, the huge pile sprawled out far and wide.

Said pile smiles upon seeing Alfonse enter, glad to see his husband.

Hrid doesn't even need to ask if they're heading back to Askr, he can feel his blubbery rolls begin to lightly jostle as the horses start the journey back home. "Sorry for making us late," Hrid doesn't make eye contact, instead he looks down at his bountiful chest, the overstuffed chest resembling the most plush, cushiony couch from how wide and high they spread.

"No, it was me who insisted on staying," Alfonse pats Hrid's stomach. His hand sinks into the mound of fat even just by gently touching Hrid's belly. His husband's stomach is massive enough to where Alfonse could simply rest underneath it to be covered entirely, so big that it could cover a dozen of him at once even.

The two having just stayed at Embla for formalities of drafting trade agreements, Bruno couldn't simply send the two kings off empty-handed or with empty stomachs. Breakfast offered to them, an originally planned departure at 9am was promptly delayed by thirty minutes. And then another. And then an hour and even more after that. Nearly impossible to fill up Hrid's massive gut, it was just as impossible for Alfonse to tire from feeding him. The spread of breakfast large enough to feed a large group, the two’s attendants had only eaten a modicum of food, just enough to comfortably sate them for the trip. Alfonse had eaten a bit extra, his hunger slightly increased due to being around so much food now with Hrid. But Hrid had eaten the entirety of the remaining food; enough food left for to feed at minimum ten people with their own large appetites but Hrid’s black hole for a gut meant the delicious breakfast had gone all to him. With such an insatiable appetite and Alfonse’s eagerness to feed his flabby husband, even more breakfast was initially asked for. Until the two had been politely stopped by their royal guard, the only one sensible enough to keep to a schedule and brave enough to speak her mind.

And so, with the aid of some helpful yet intensive magic to get Hrid moving — the sight of seeing an immobile blob of a already something be in awe of but seeing such a massive man move had been quite the spectacle for all those not used to such a thing, so much rolls of flab bulging and jiggling intensely from the warp magic — Hrid and Alfonse are back on their way to Askr. The distance between Askr and Embla is rather short, only a couple hours even while riding a carriage that is forced to go at a sluggish pace from hauling a couple thousand plus pounds of a king. The distance is thankfully cut shorter from Alfonse and Hrid having their own route. The path had become a necessity for transporting Hrid around; with such a wide, massive wagon needed to haul him around, the sheer width of the vehicle is bigger than regular roads.

Alfonse drapes himself against Hrid. Though he more so lies on top of Hrid. The available space is practically taken up by Hrid and Hrid alone. Hrid’s folds where his thighs and belly meet are the most accessible place to sit on, Alfonse sinks into the countless rolls and folds of Hrid’s blubber. Like the rest of his body, Hrid’s thighs are nothing more than accessories, Hrid having not moved them in such a long time. Not that he could even if he wanted to; even the strongest magic can’t take away the fact that Hrid being as fat as a room means he has far too much lard sloshing against each other to willingly move a limb even an inch. Hrid’s girthy thighs alone can crush a mattress, each. The blubbery thighs are like a river of flab, the trickles of lard flowing as he wobbles from the moving carriage. His legs slightly thin out the more down you look at his legs, but even his calves are wider than people’s entire waistlines. Hrid’s legs spread out wide enough to now even touch both sides of the carriage; his titanic girth comes close to being even too big for something specifically tailored to withstand his mass. His feet are barely visible, smothered in so much fat just like his knees; his knees are bloated from the thousands of pounds on his figure, the joint hard to discern on his body. The issue is made more difficult from Hrid’s billowing gut. The far most impressive feature on his body, such an accomplishment is one worth praising when each spectacularly obese part of Hrid’s body is a marvel of gluttony and wanton hedonism. His enormous gut is wide enough to be its own table, bed, couch, or just about anything with so much surface area. The flabby mass of lard is divided into several rolls of flab. The folds and crevices line the titanic gut that rests on his thighs, his belly resembling an oozing stack of pancakes. It juts out a couple dozen feet in front of him; it similarly spreads out a few dozen feet to the side. His banquet table for a stomach spreads out on top of nearly all of Hrid’s thighs. His gut sags down between the bits of his thighs that aren’t smushed together. The only reason his thighs have any space between them is due to his enormous stomach needing room to spread. His flab divots in between his legs, a notable ‘U’ shape from the sides of his gut resting on his, raised up from so much flab on them, thighs while the center droops down to touch the floor.

Alfonse nestled in between so many warm rolls of his husband’s obese mammontine body, he can slowly feel the morning’s heavy breakfast take its toll on him, a yawn escaping his lips as he lies on what must be the softest water bed in all of Zenith.

“A-alfonse?” Hrid’s face is positively red. One or two beads of sweat are dotted on his face, Hrid somehow seemingly exerted.

Before Alfonse can respond, his entire body trembles, forcefully shaken out of his drowsy state.

Hrid can only whimper as his entire body jiggles. His stomach growls, demanding more food. The shattering sound goes on for some time, his gut refusing to go without food for any longer. The carriage creaks and shakes, the sturdy wood trembling from the force alone of Hrid’s starving gut that craves only to eat. A few more beads of sweat mar Hrid’s porcine visage, Hrid somehow tiring himself out just from being hungry.

The carriage having come to a stop from the tremor, the flap is forcibly opened.

“Forgive the intrusion! Are you-”

“Yes, we are both unharmed. Thank you,” Shaken and jostled around from Hrid’s gurgling gut, Alfonse had gotten a faceful of Hrid’s obese figure — not something he will ever complain about but for someone to see he’d rather that be forgotten.

“Understood!” Alfonse’s and Hrid’s guard leaves before Alfonse can even properly get his bearings and pull himself up.

Alfonse's lips are pursed, his face red as well. Unable to do much about that, he decides to let it go. Instead, he focuses on his clearly starving husband.

Said husband mirrors and exemplifies Alfonse’s own embarrassment. Hrid is a blushing mess, his entire pudgy face is scalding red. “Forgive me, I…” Hrid trails off. If he could move his pillows for arms, he’d surely cover his face. “I’m just so hungry,”

Alfonse’s own embarrassment washes away, replacing itself with affection. “You have nothing to apologize for,” Carefully maneuvering around Hrid’s enormity, he grabs the lone other thing in the carriage. The chest in his hands, he slowly lifts it closer. Shifting his spot as well, Alfonse climbs Hrid’s tonnage, Hrid so fat that it lifts him up from the ground to make him even larger. Eventually, Alfonse gets into a decent position of half sitting on Hrid’s chest and half leaning against Hrid’s lard.

Alfonse gets a good look at Hrid's chest from using just a single breast as his seat. Each great tit is larger than a person from their sheer size alone. The two massive moobs are splayed to the side as they sag down the hill of his gut. His wide, puffy areolas seem extra hefty with all the fat crammed into Hrid's body. Though Alfonse can only see the outline of them through Hrid's "shirt"; the top is only the bare minimum of fabric, the article of clothing more akin to a tarp draped over his upper body. It was mostly given to allow Hrid to have a semblance of decency, the blob of a king embarrassed over his size. Even with the piece of fabric being big enough to cover the entire floor of a room, the tarp isn't even wide enough to cover his ample chest by leaving a quarter of each breast exposed. It also isn't long enough to go much further past his chest. At the very least, the fabric has a design etched onto it, the symbol of Nifl smack dab in the center. Hrid's measly, far too ridiculously small shirt better fits him as a bib. Hrid's arms a nice backrest for Alfonse, Hrid's arms are as equally useless as his thighs. Having the largest biceps in all of Askr, Hrid's massive arms are nothing but pure lard. The humongously wide arms rest atop his body, Hrid unable to move them, much less lift them. His obese hand is even engorged from fat as well, his large fatty palm swallowed by his fat, Hrid unable to even move his fingers with so much lard encasing each digit. His arms at the near apex of Hrid's mound of a body, his rear juts out from behind Hrid. Hrid's back is a landscape of nothing but rolls of flab, so many countless folds to pinch and squeeze. Two large cushiony buttocks ooze out behind Hrid, his flabby rear grazing one end of the carriage while his gut grazes the other side. His ass is a shapeless pile of flab that splays out to take up as much space as it can, just like the rest of Hrid's figure. His ass does at least rise high into the air at the least. His plentiful ass is covered up like his chest, a tarp for shorts draped over his cushiony rear. Unbeknownst to Hrid, the fabric also has a design. This one the symbol of Askr, the idea had been Alfonse's, as if showing off Hrid as his.

Alfonse caresses Hrid's cheek, the blubbery jowl taking up the entirety of Alfonse's palm and even then some.

Hrid stares back at him with half lidded eyes, taking deep whiny breaths from his hunger. A blush still dusts his face, Hrid always getting embarrassed during feeding time. Embarrassment that always went away while eating, Hrid unable to help himself; the act of eating oh so enjoyable, especially with how Alfonse hugs and caresses him. Hrid's face is slightly sunken in, dozens of neck folds along with dozens of chins surrounding his face. His face so rotund and being at the very top of a room sized blob of a body makes recognizing the figure for, anyone unfamiliar, as Hrid impossible if not for the usual mop of purple-gray hair with blue tips — hair that is a bit more grown out and messy from so much upkeep spent on just filling his gut. Hrid's face grows brighter as Alfonse takes his time rubbing Hrid. His hunger begins to build up. Hrid senses slight grumbles building up again in his gut. "Feed me, please,"

"Of course," Alfonse opens up the chest. What would be an abundance of well preserved pastries for anyone that isn't Hrid are stuffed inside. "This will help tide you over for now. When we reach the castle, I'll make sure you can properly eat all that you want," Alfonse pulls at random, unwrapping each treat before cramming it in Hrid's mouth.

Hrid's only response is to moan. It's all he can do, devouring each pastry the instant Alfonse brings it to his lips. Enjoying food so much, Hrid closes his eyes, allowing Alfonse to feed him. Hrid already begins thinking about his current meal, the immobile blob ready to eat as much as wants and get bigger, his husband eager to support him.

#fat emblem #fat story #fat fiction #wg story #ssbhm #extreme weight gain #male weight gain #my writing

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missywritesfor7 · 8 months

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🌙Moon’s Light | JJK🌙

Synopsis: Luna is a young paralegal trying to maintain her new found independence and enjoy life. Too bad her job sucks and her boss is the worst. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she encounters a vampire named Jungkook who changes her life in more ways than one.

Jungkook is a shield and protector of the vampire kingdom of Korealis. He’s trained his entire life to block out any and all distractions and focus solely on becoming the strongest. While investigating a potential threat to the kingdom, he encounters Luna who turns out to be more than he could have ever imagined. It becomes his job to protect her, but he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is his devotion to the job or perhaps something deeper.

Secrets are uncovered. Lives are on the line. Hearts are tested.

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Fem!OC

Warnings: Violence, character death, eventual smut, tragedy, some angst, strong language, MINORS DNI

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

|| Ch. 23: Parents ||

Luna feels a bit awkward having dinner with Jungkook’s mom alone. Sunyoung is sweet but Luna has no idea what to say to her as they sit across the table from each other enjoying their dinner. She’s thanked her 3 times for the food already out of nervousness. Now it’s just silence.

When they’re done eating Luna offers to clean up, but just like Jungkook does, Sunyoung tells her to rest on the couch instead. She does as told and remains there until Sunyoung joins her when she’s done.

“You don’t have to be afraid when you’re here,” Sunyoung says.

“What?” Luna replies.

“I know how intimidating Minseok can get, especially when he’s angry. I just want you to know you’re safe here. He won’t find you here.”

“Oh. Thank you for letting me stay. Wouldn’t Minseok come looking for Jungkook at least? Especially after the way we left earlier, I know he’s got to be enraged.”

“I’m sure he is. He still won’t come here though.”

“You seem very sure about that.”

“I keep my home well protected from those who hurt me and the ones I love. It’s an ability of mine. I’ve tried for many years to work with Minseok so it wouldn’t get to this point but eventually I had no choice. My boys know they can come here at anytime and not be bothered. Minseok knows if he comes within 50 feet of this house he’ll experience a great pain that will bring him close to the end of his life. He tried once and had to learn the hard way.”

“Wow,” Luna says in amazement. “That’s pretty badass. So that’s why Jungkook likes to hide here?”

“He knows he can be at peace here.”

“Why didn’t you just have them live with you instead of being left to deal with their controlling dad?”

“I wanted nothing more than to keep my boys with me, but I knew they had a duty to fulfill and they needed to remain at the palace. Plus there’s no winning a fight with the royals. Minseok and the King are best friends, it wouldn’t take much to have me punished for keeping the boys from carrying out the job they were sworn to do since they were babies.”

“That must have been hard all of these years. I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

“It’s ok. I knew what would happen when I made my decision to leave. It was the hardest thing I had to do, but I don’t regret it. I needed to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what exactly?” Luna asks, then instantly realized she probably shouldn’t ask her something so personal when they’ve only just met. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that,” she says quickly.

“It’s fine,” Sunyoung chuckles. “You’ve met Minseok so you can probably guess why I felt I needed protection.” She pauses then smiles brightly. “Enough about me, tell me more about yourself. Jungkook tells me you’re a lawyer?”

“Not exactly,” Luna says shyly. “I am…was…a paralegal. I guess now I’m just unemployed though.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something once you get used to everything,” Sunyoung assures.

“Would it be hard though? For someone like me to find a good job here?”

“You’ll be fine. Korealis isn’t the only place you can go, you know? A lot of people commute to other cities and kingdoms for work.”

“Really? There’s other kingdoms?” Luna asks intrigued.

“Of course,” Sunyoung chuckles showing Luna where Jungkook gets his smile. “I thought Jungkook would have shown you the portal station by now.”

“He has, I just didn’t know they could go anywhere else besides earth. So you’re saying I can go to the station and go many other places?”

“You’ll have to try it out someday. Personally, I love the beach on Apo Isle.”

“Beach?” Luna asks perking up. “Ok you’re definitely going to have to show me how to use the portals so I can go. That sounds amazing!”

“Sure,” she giggles. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll show you a bit if Jungkook is still busy.”

“That would be great!”

Luna and Sunyoung remain on the couch chatting well into the night. Luna learns a lot about the kingdom that’s now her new home. It makes her feel more at ease, but she can’t help thinking about her human home. There’s so many things she’d like to do. So many loose ends left behind that she needs to tie up. She knows she has to be reported missing by now, what could she do to sort things out before fully accepting that Korealis will be her home now?

She lays awake in bed struggling to fall asleep thinking about everything she needs to do. She’s also partially awake because Jungkook hasn’t returned and she’s starting to get worried. Despite this, sleep finally wins a few hours later and Luna drifts off.

It isn’t long before Jungkook makes a quiet return and slips into bed next to Luna without her budging at all. It was a much longer night than he had thought it’d be and he’s exhausted. The good news is that they were able to get Choi Yeonjun locked back up, but the task didn’t come without a fight and a little damage.

When Luna wakes in the morning she notices Jungkook’s arm wrapped around her tight from behind. She hates that she missed when he came in, but she’s glad he made it back in one piece. For the most part.

When she rolls over to face him she instantly notices the large scratch across his right cheek that stretches from his ear to nearly the tip of his chin. His eyes are still closed and she has no idea what time he got in so he must be tired, but she can’t think about that right now.

“Jungkook,” she says lightly brushing her fingers over his face. “What happened?”

Jungkook groans moving his head from her touch. His eyes remain closed hoping Luna will let him be.

“Did Mr. Choi do this to you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook groans.

“How can I not worry about it? Have you seen yourself? How did this happen??” She touches his face again and he moves away. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s fine,” he grumbles. “Go back to sleep.”

“It’s morning and it’s not fine,” she fusses. “Open your big demon eyes and tell me what happened.”

“I said it’s fine,” he grumbles finally opening his eyes to see the pained look on Luna’s face. “I’ll regenerate, it’s not a big deal.”

“Regenerate? I thought that was like an instant thing that happens?”

“It is. Usually.”

“Usually? So what makes this different to where it doesn’t regenerate instantly?”

“It’s just deeper than a normal cut. Will you stop nagging now?” He closes his eyes again trying to end the conversation he doesn’t want to get into at the moment.

“Fine,” she huffs. She looks at him laying there with his eyes closed a moment, then she gets a sneaky idea. She gently places her hand on Jungkook’s shoulder hoping to see something.

“Stop that shit!” He snaps grabbing her wrist.

“Why won’t you tell me what happened? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” he says getting increasingly irritated. “You’re making this into something bigger than it is.”

“Am I? Maybe I’ll call your mom in here and see what she thinks.”

“You better not!” He says quickly sitting up and pinning her down on the bed.

“So then it is a big deal?”

“Fuck just let it go!”

“But you’re hurt! I’m trying to help you!”

“I didn’t ask you to! I told you it’s fine. Leave it alone!”

“Ugh, fine!” She huffs pushing him off of her. “I’ll see if your mom is up so I can be in more pleasant company.” She gets out of the bed and leaves the room.

Luna walks into the kitchen to find Sunyoung already awake and preparing herself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” Sunyoung smiles. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Luna says. “Thank you.”

“Is Jungkook awake?”

“Yeah he’s awake,” Luna rolls her eyes.

“I know that look all too well,” she says handing Luna a cup of coffee. They both take a seat at the table and Luna simply sighs. “Is it something you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. I only asked him what happened last night and he got upset the more I asked. He told me I was making things a bigger deal than they are, but it’s clear he’s hiding something.”

“Of course he is,” Sunyoung shrugs nonchalantly. “Whatever he has going on will never be big enough for him to tell you about it. He’ll swear up and down that he can handle it and you don’t need to worry. He wants to protect you and he thinks that’s the way to do it.”

“So…what do I do?”

“Be patient with him. He hates admitting that he’s like his father in so many ways, but the truth is he’s exactly like him. Whatever you feel for him, let him know. Then give him time to figure it out. Just don’t wait a couple hundred years and two kids later to finally decide you’re done waiting for him,” she chuckles. “If he truly cares then he’ll try to make it work. If he doesn’t, you’ll know, and when you do I suggest you leave.”

“You’d encourage me to leave him? Your son?”

“I’d encourage you to be happy. If that means parting ways with him then so be it. I know my Tokki though. He has a bigger heart than his father, so I know he’ll figure it out, you just need to be patient with him. Of course, if you don’t care about him then you can just tell him that and save everyone the time and trouble,” she laughs.

“Right,” Luna chuckles along. “The thing is, I’m not sure what I feel. I just know I don’t want him to be sad or hurt. I don’t want him to try fighting his battles alone, I want to help him, and maybe in a way protect him.”

“Tell him that,” Sunyoung insists. “Tell him and leave nothing unsaid. I wish I had done that sooner. I would have left sooner.”

“Do you believe that Minseok ever loved you?”

Before Sunyoung can answer, Jungkook enters the room hiding in his bunny form. He looks up at his mom who furrows her brows at him.

“You know the rules, Tokki,” Sunyoung says. “No paws in the kitchen.”

He stands there a moment then decides to leave the room and look over at them from the living room. He knows she doesn’t want him hiding, but he isn’t ready to face her right now. He knows he’ll probably make her much more worried than he wants her to be once she sees the large scratch across his face.

“Ok then,” Sunyoung says standing and putting her cup in the sink. “Is this the game you’re going to play today?” She asks walking over to him and scooping him up into her arms.

He gives her the big eyed look she’s become accustomed to letting her know he needs some time. She runs her fingers through his fur to give him the soothing comfort she knows he’s likely craving.

“I’ll give you some time,” she says. “I was going to show Luna around anyway. We’ll go out, but when we come back you better be on two feet.”

Jungkook nods in agreement. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he doesn’t really have a choice. At least he can have time to himself to think things through while they’re gone.

“Luna,” Sunyoung says putting Jungkook down on the floor. “How about I show you the place I told you about yesterday?”

“Sure,” Luna says. She’s not sure what to think, but the thought of finally learning how to use portals and going to the beach is exciting.

The ladies get themselves ready and head out leaving Jungkook sitting alone in the living room. Once he feels they’ve gone far enough he transforms back and goes into the kitchen to make himself breakfast. He doesn’t have much of an appetite at the moment, so he only makes a piece of toast and a small cup of tea.

His fight with Yeonjun took much more out of him than he expected. All 7 guys had a tough time getting him contained after he managed to slip through a crack in the wall. None of them had any idea that he had the ability to squeeze himself through even the tightest spaces. The night was spent guarding the entire perimeter and closing in until they found him hiding in a storage closet.

Jungkook wanted nothing more than to shoot him and end it all, but given the role Yeonjun plays in the entire Saakhan Venom operation, they needed to keep him alive. Jungkook, Namjoon, and Jimin all tried to take him down and lock him back up but he put up hard fight. Yeonjun’s fingers are long and his nails are deadly sharp, which cut deep into Jungkook’s cheek as they fought. There aren’t many things that hurt Jungkook, but this hurt him a lot. The second he felt the sting of pain shoot through his nerves he became enraged and began swinging at Yeonjun until he was nearly beat to death. Jimin and Namjoon had to pull him back after a while because they were afraid he would kill Yeonjun. Everyone praised him for taking him down and practically beating him into submission, but that didn’t change how upset he was.

Once again he finds himself scrutinizing every move of his. Shooting his gun is one thing, but he’s the strongest royal shield ever. He shouldn’t have let anyone wear him down and hurt him the way Choi Yeonjun did. It’s not just a scratch on his face. It’s a scratch that actually fucking hurts. A scratch that can’t be hidden. A scratch so deep that he’s not even sure it will heal.

“Who the fuck do I think I am calling myself a royal shield?” Jungkook mumbles to himself.

He sits alone huffing to himself a little longer then cleans his plate. He ends up cleaning the entire kitchen himself due to being stuck on autopilot while replaying the previous night in his head over and over again. When he’s done he throws himself on the couch wishing the stinging pain in his cheek would finally subside.

With his eyes closed he ignores whoever is texting him at the moment. If it were really important, whoever it is would call. Right now he’s not in the mood. His phone buzzes a few more times spurring him to finally look at his phone thinking perhaps it really is an emergency.

[Dad]: I know you’re at your mothers

[Dad]: Do you think you can hide there forever?

[Dad]: Do you think you can get away with how you’ve been treating me?

[Dad]: Do you think having some weak convert fight for you makes you a respectable shield?

[Dad]: Are you proud of that? All of your training thrown away for what?!

[Dad]: For some girl who’s just going to hold you back and probably fuck your friends again?

[Dad]: Is that what you like? To constantly be humiliated?

[Dad]: Leave her like I told you!

[Dad]: Get ready for intensive training to make up for all of this time you’ve wasted!

[Dad]: Come back home NOW and FACE YOUR PUNISHMENT JUNGKOOK!!!

Jungkook sighs in frustration. It never ends with his father. He knows he’ll face his wrath no matter what, so he figures he may as well do as he pleases. At least right now, when he knows he’s safe from his dad, he won’t have to worry much.

[Jungkook]: No.

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pandoramusicbox · 2 years

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the snow queen

in the north of the kaliwafitsu continent, there is a harsh and cold kingdom made of snow and ice. among these fields of ice spikes there is a palace made from a powerful spell cast by a dark magician known as the ice queen. sometimes seen as the sixth unofficial hidden school, it teaches all forms of magic that do not fit in with the rigged view the cultures of the continent have on magic. the witches that practice magic within the snow palace are often associated with aurora borealis, so it is said that when you see them the witches are traveling through the sky. the witches actually do use the auroras for their magic, they can travel through them in a sense and allows them to see other parts of the world that the arouras touch. and they can project images that resemble themselves onto the sky with the aurora . They are also known to make magic fire works with similar effects to the aurora. The witches of the ice palace are known as winter witches or aurora witches depending on who you ask, some people call them snow demons or snow witches as well, the name people use for them is not constant, what is know is that at any time the ice palace may have anywhere from under a dozen to hundreds of witches living there.

These witches are usually led by a leader, called the winter queen, if the population is over 50 members they will have two other leaders, known as the snow, and ice queens. This is to allow all of the different people to communicate with the leaders and to have an easier time running the community. Any major decisions are voted on between the three queens and majority rules, but all three of them have title specific roles to help in the regular day to day opporations. The winter queen is responsible for the delegation between parties in the palace, to keep the peace along with being the queen that foreign diplomats meet with, they have final say in what information is learned at the palace. Any first time visitors need to meet with the queen so the queen can approve their presence in the palace. They are the one who makes sure the palace rules are followed and reviews the rules to make sure they are fair and just. (To be fair the ice palace has relatively few rules) the Ice queen is responsible for the well being and defense of the palace. Well being includes emotional and mental health along side physical health because the environment that the palace is is harsh to deal with most of the time and brutal the rest of the time. The ice queen’s defensive responsibility is only enacted on rare occasions and usually when peace to prevent physical violence is needed or when foreign powers threaten them. The ice queen is also responsible for maintaining the building. The snow queen has the authority over most day to day matters, such as securing food and maintenance of hygiene for the palace, it is their job to see to it that the residents of the palace have the supplies they need. They are also responsible for the moral, and are the queen who orchestrates trades with outside world. If the ice queen wants to make a military action against an outside power the ice queen will need to seek proper premises from the snow queen if it is not defensive in nature. When there is only one queen due to low population the winter queen is responsible for all of this.

The residents of the ice palace are known to have “tame” mounts that are giant snow owl harpies and the ride on the backs of the demonic shapeshifting Crax, this is because a lot of Crax go to the ice palace for protection and in exchange the witches can ask to ride on the back of the giant skull faced ravens. The owl harpies have a similar situation but instead of housing and protection the owl harpies are given extra food and anything else they could want in trade. Outsiders do not know this so the reputation of the witches grew harsher for their ability to “tame” such fearsome beasts.

#worldbuilding #snow queen #pandoramusicbox #ice queendom #ice queen #winter queen #winter witch #aurora

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band--psycho · 3 years

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Bucky Barnes x Reader-The Lost King(Royal AU)

A/n: This is my second entry for @girl-next-door-writes bingo writing challenge (this is probably one of the longest fics I’ve written) I hope you all enjoy it!!

Streams of sunlight began to flood into the room, the brightness of the light causing Y/n to stir in her sleep as her eyes fluttered open. Normally, she’d marvel at what a beautiful morning it was but today was different. Today, she couldn’t help but feel the dull ache in her heart as she turned to see Bucky sleeping peacefully beside her. Lightly she caressed his face, careful not to disturb what was bound to be the last peaceful sleep he’d have for a while. She tried to push the fear and worry that filled her head but in truth she was terrified, the war between their country and King Schmidts had grown fiercer and bloodier over the past few days. Bucky, wanted to show a display of hope and strength to our people and was going to ride out to the battle with a large number of soldiers in just a small number of hours. Of course Y/n supported his decision, she knew it would give their people hope, hope which so desperately needed to be shown in these dark times but she knew what Kinf Schmidt and his men were like from the reports she’d read and the gossip that swam round the castle; these people were cut throat,ruthless and bloodthirtsy. She knew Bucky was a talented fighter, there was no denying that but still the fear that he may not return from this battle seemed to be permanently ingrained in her mind.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered drowsily, dragging Y/n from her thoughts.

“Morning,” Y/n whispered before lightly pressing her lips to his. The kiss was soft but yet it seemed to convey all the emotions Y/n didn’t trust herself to say, maybe it was because Bucky knew her so well or maybe it was because he felt a familiar feeling of dread himself. He knew what he was doing was risky but it needed to be done.

“I know, sweetheart, I know” Bucky cooed once they pulled away from the kiss, instantly seeing the sadness in her eyes. He knew that there were no words that would ease the worry from her mind so he did the only thing that he could do. He held her. He pulled her into his embrace, his hands lightly roaming over her body, not in a sexual way but in a soothing one. The pair of them stayed like that, wrapped up in each other's arms, silently comforting each other, right up until there was a dull knock at the door. Both of them wanted nothing more than to just stay in that moment but they couldn’t. It was time and they both knew it.

“Promise me you’ll come back to me,” the pain in Y/n's voice was enough to make his heartbreak.

“I’ll always come back to you, my love,” he soothed, holding her even closer than before.

“Always,” he repeated like a mantra, placing a final kiss on her lips.

“I love you”

“I love you too,” she replied back with tears in her eyes, coldness washing over her body as he pulled away from the embrace, vanishing behind the door to make his way down to the armoury.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n stood leaning against the stone railing of balcony, her gaze locked onto the horizon which she had watched the love of her life disappear into. It had been six months since she said her final farewell to the man she loved and she had been out here everyday since, no matter the weather.She remembered watching him the day he left, she had stood in this very spot, fear and anxiety plaguing her thoughts. She recalled the way the sun had glinted of his pristine armour, of the way he spoke and inspired his men, lifting their spirits from the back of his noble steed as the animal trotted along the lines.He had stopped in front, looking over the men following him as his horse pawed restlessly at the ground. His short hair was neat, every strand styled in place the way he liked, and despite the distance she remembered the spark in his eyes and the familiar smirk upon his face as the battalion of men cheered for him, ready and willing to follow their king into battle.

He had waved to her, blew a kiss in her direction before setting off. She had stood in place for what felt like hours, watching his figure grow smaller and smaller until he vanished out of sight altogether.

His goal and wish was for his actions to reignite hope amongst their people, and for a time it had. But it only lasted so long, they say no news is good news, but for most the disappearance of their king and his gallant men had only increased their desperation and despair, one in particular.

“Your Majesty,” as though on que the recent bane of her existence made himself known. Sighing, Y/N turns her head towards the voice she and come to loath.

“Lord Stark, can I help you with something?” She inquired with a curt tone, already knowing what he was here to discuss with her. She had been avoiding him for this very reason, and it seems he had clicked onto her intentions. She was in no mood for this.

She hears him sigh in response, as he, her royal advisor comes to stand a few feet behind her, “You know why I’m here your majesty. We didn’t get the chance to finish our discussion.”

“On the contrary Lord Stark, I believe we have, on multiple occasions now. What you mean to say is that you’re unsatisfied with my answer and wish for me to reconsider my decision.” she corrected sternly, trying her hardest to maintain her composure

“I meant no disrespect my lady, I’m just saying it would be wise to-“

“To what? To marry again?”Y/N cuts him off before he can finish

“We’ve been over this Your Majesty, marrying again would protect you and it may even form a new alliance,” His words and tone felt like a dagger in her heart, how many times had they discussed this. Y/N curses herself at the feeling of tears building up, fighting to keep them in as she looks to the sky and takes a deep breath, calming herself. He was out there still, he had to be, why was it so hard for others to have faith in him.

“You’re talking as if he’s dead,”

“I cannot even begin to understand how hard this is for you-“

Pity, his tone reeked of it, if she turned to him now she knew she’d see it plain as day upon his face. He spoke to her as though she were a child, one that needed coddling and protecting. She knew the kingdom needed a king, they needed security and an heir and she had been doing her best. For him above all else. He had done so much for her, he had given her his life and his heart and in turn she had done the same and she refused to give up on him now.

“He’s not dead, he’s out there somewhere.” Lord Stark merely sighed in response to her again, though this time there was an irritated tone to it. She could tell her stubbornness was annoying him, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, he had pushed her past that months ago.

“I understand your need for hope.”

She couldn’t help but let a humourless laugh slip past her lips as she turned to look at her advisor. Head high and shoulders back, she knew he would see the redness in her eyes, but above all else she wanted him to see her determination and strength. Approaching him, she mutters, “Hope which you should share for your king.” Not giving him a chance to say anything else, Y/N walks towards the doors to the balcony, hope lost was as good as admitting defeat, in accepting that that which you have faith in no longer invokes to inspire you. Bucky deserves more than that.,”

~~~~~~~~

Lord Rogers, much like Y/n refused to believe that the king was dead.. Regret and guilt tended to fill his mind when he would search him, he hated that he didn’t go with him to the battle. Ever since they were boys, the two of them would always be there for each other, protecting each other from foes. As a young boy, Steve didn’t have the best life, but Bucky was always there to defend him and no one would dare harm a prince, those that dared to try normally ended up flat on their arse. When Bucky inherited the throne he gave Steve a title, land and with that came some long overdue respect. But inheriting the throne led to Bucky having to face harsher foes than just the local bullies and of course through every battle Steve was there, protecting his friend the same way Bucky had protected him for all those years before. This time it was different though, Bucky insisted that Steve stayed at the castle to keep an eye on Y/n, to protect her if anything happened to him in the battle. It worried him but he also understood Buckys reasoning so didn’t try to fight him on the matter.Steve spent days at a time searching the surrounding forests and mountains for any sign of the king's survival, only returning to the castle to check on the Queen, knowing she, like him, was struggling. But hers was for a different reason, he knew she was being pressured by her royal advisor, Lord Stark to re-marry and it pained Steve to admit it but Lord Stark had a point, their country was vulnerable without a king, Y/n was an excellent queen, there was no denying that but men from other lands failed to show her the respect she deserved without a king next to her. Steve knew Bucky was alive, he knew in his heart that he was alive,they were like brothers and he Steve was determined to find him.

Steve was riding through the woods on the border of the land, it was an area he hadn’t been to since the king first went missing. In the distance Steve saw another man on horseback, instantly his guard was up, prepared for the possibility of an attack. A few seconds passed and the figure started to become clearer but the man fell off his horse before Steve could make out any detail or features of the man. Steve dismounted his horse almost instantly and made his way over cautiously toward the man. As he got closer to the figure he noticed the all time familiar features of his best friend; his hair looked long and matter, his clothes were torn and he was covered in blood. Worry flooded over Steve’s face as he knelt down next to Bucky, letting out a small sigh of relief when he realised the blood wasn’t Buckys. Carefully he picked up the king's unconscious body and placed it on his own horse before bolting back to the castle.

~~~~~~~

A frustrated sigh left Y/ns lips as she entered her bedroom. She’d spent most of the day trying to calm the Lords who were getting more agitated by the day as well as dealing with the constant hints Lord Stark was making about finding a new suitor. She hated this. She hated being like this, passed around like she was a piece of meat to any king that would help the country. She knew in both her head and her heart that she would never remarry, if Bucky wasn’t found then she would rule the country alone like she had been doing with the hope that sooner or later the Lords would respect her the way they did Bucky. She all but collapsed on the bed she once shared with Bucky, her eyes slowly drifted shut as she got lost in the memories of her and Bucky.

Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard someone burst through the door, to her relief though it was only Steve. However his boldness was something that caught her attention, normally Steve was such a gentleman and would always wait to be summoned into the room.

“Steve? Are you okay?” She asked, confusion racing through her brain as her eyes scanned over Steve, searching for answers.

“I found him,” those words were enough to have Y/n darting out of her bed and grabbing her robe before following Steve to the infirmary, a mixture of anxiety and relief filling her her thoughts.

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

When she first saw him in his bloodstained clothes, she instantly thought the worst. She thought he was dead. But when she saw his chest slowly rising and falling she felt relief wash over her. He was alive. All of those months of waiting for him and he was here. He was really here, back with her. Hours passed and Y/n was still sat by Bucky's side, not wanting to leave his side ever again, she never wanted to let him go ever again. A few more hours passed before Bucky's blue eyes slowly fluttered open. Shock and terror filled his eyes when he first opened them, until he saw Y/n's face, as soon as he saw her face he felt all of the pain and terror fade away. He slowly raised his hand to her face, trying to work out if he’d wandered into a dream, but this felt more real than any dream he’d had in the months that’d passed.

“You’re safe, you’re home,” Y/n cooed, stroking some of the stray strands of hair away from his face. Her voice was soft and sweet just like he remembered it and at her touch he felt like he was being brought back to life, like all the terrors of the past six months hadn’t happened.

“You came back to me,” she soothed, caressing his face as she lightly placed her forehead against his.

“Of course I did,” Bucky whispered, moving his head slightly to press a kiss onto her palm, “I had a promise to keep.”

(Credit to the gif owners)

Tag List:

@sarcasticallywitty15 @abadamn @wiccanmetallicrose @little-diable @xacatapelsyx @drabblewithfrannybarnes @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares

#Girl Next Door’s Make Me Feel Bingo #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes royal au #king bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky imagine #Bucky Barnes

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theonceandfutureking6481 · 3 years

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BBC's Merlin Season 1 Episode 2: Valiant Analysis

*Spoilers for the whole show!!!!*

I'm always nervous watching this episode, although it is very good it's never been one of my favourites, mainly because it stresses me out. I was also worried here that there wouldn't be that much to analyse in what often seems to me one of the many filler episodes in this series, however, watching with analysis in mind proved me wrong. So once again I must apologise for the lengthiness of this post, and hope that I manage to make it more articulate than it now appears in my notes!

Arthur's character

Something I noticed when watching this episode is how significantly this episode focuses on Arthur's character. Last episode we were introduced to a character who seemed like a bit of a bully but who clearly had hidden depths, this episode proved that. That is the fundamental message of this episode that Arthur is an incredibly decent and often noble person, despite his many faults.

This episode reveals the many differences between Arthur and Uthur, between their worldviews, and you see how Arthur is trapped between the two and there's not really that much he can do about it. Uther's love is in many ways conditional and this episode reveals that. As we get to know Arthur and Uther's relationship throughout the show I don't think anything could stop Uther from loving Arthur, but his expressing of that love and respect is very conditional and in the mind of Arthur that's really the same thing. Uther says to Arthur, "I trust you will make me proud" just before the tournament starts, and the subtext is very clear, Arthur has to win.

Throughout the show Arthur is constantly caught between Uther and what he wants to do, he wants Uther to be proud of him but he also disagrees with him on many things. This is a major feature of Arthur's character arc that doesn't really end until "The Death Song of Uther Pendragon" in season 5, when Arthur tells the ghost of his father point blank that its his turn to rule. It is a horrible situation Arthur is in, in order to maintain the love and respect of the one person who's opinion he cares most about Arthur has to sacrifice what he believes in, no child should ever be put in that position.

The conception of honour and courage that Arthur has grown up with is also revealed here, when Valiant says to Uther that "to lose is to be disgraced," and Uther agrees. Interestingly Arthur and Merlin are the only people who don't like Valiant, revealing perhaps how they differ to Uther and his kingdom in their worldviews, and what brings Merlin and Arthur together is their vision of the world. This is core to Uther's view of the world, he can't lose which means he can't be merciful, he can't accommodate, he'll never sacrifice his pride for his kingdom, and he'll never admit when he's wrong. The Great Purge started because Uther was unable to admit that he had made a mistake, that he had made the wrong choice, so he blamed an entire people for what was fundamentally his mistake. Arthur isn't like this, what is most loveable about Arthur, what makes the viewers realise truly what a good king he is, is his ability to admit his mistakes, he understands that losing isn't disgrace. I think the episode that best represents this is "His Father's Son" from season 4, in this episode Arthur says a line which fundamentally reveals what he believes about losing, "It is not victory I seek, it is peace." Arthur does not have to win, he just needs to be able to protect his kingdom and do his duty. He is not seeking victory (personal glory/pride) but peace (protection and safety for his people). This episode though, sets up Arthur caught between world views, caught in a conception of honour that he's not sure he agrees with. The moment within this episode that most reveals this is the final scene when Arthur tells Morgana that Uther will never apologise and then immediately goes and apologises to Merlin for firing him. Ignoring the fact that Uther just generally doesn't apologise, I'm certain the idea of apologising to a servant wouldn't even enter his mind, but Arthur does it because he made a mistake and he recognises that.

On a similar note the dichotomy between Arthur and Uther is also revealed in their respect for servants. Gaius and Uther both emphasise the fact that a servants word is worth less than a nobles, fundamental to this idea is a conception of nobility as somehow being worth more than servants, the idea that some people are worth more than others. Arthur, however, trusts Merlin, he trusts him because Arthur doesn't think that any one is is fundamentally worth less or less trustworthy. But he's trapped, when Merlin can't bring any proof aside from his word then there is nothing Arthur can do because the world is unfair and there is no argument he can make that would persuade Uther. That whole scene is very sad, he is entirely trapped, if he stands by Merlin he will lose the respect of his father and even the respect of the kingdom. There is nothing he can do, but he should be able to do something, and if Uther's kingdom was fairer he wouldn't be so powerless in this situation.

This episode is also when you see something very noble about Arthur, there is personal pride and desire for the respect of his father at the heart of his decision to fight but there is also the consideration that in order to be a good king he needs the respect of the kingdom, but also he can't sacrifice his principles for his safety, he is willing to die because if he makes the choice that means he lives he is failing his kingdom. He is always willing to do his duty, whatever the cost and there is something very noble about that, and it bodes well for his kingship.

Arthur: "I can't withdraw. The people expect their prince to fight. How can I lead men into battle if they think I'm a coward?"

Merlin: "If you fight, you die."

Arthur: "Then I die."

Merlin: "How can you go out there and fight like that."

Arthur: "Because I have to. It's my duty."

One of the best things about Merlin and Arthur is their willingness to die for the people they care about and the people of Camelot. I read and watch a lot of things with characters that risk their lives for others, but very often these characters don't seem to care if they live or die. They'd risk their lives for fun just as easily, or they risk their lives in the moment without having the chance really to think about what they're doing. Arthur and Merlin, really and truly don't want to die, and they are always making choices where death seems to be the only end, and they realise that and to some extent accept that, but they make them anyway because its the right thing to do, and its their duty.

Merlin and Arthur

Their relationship develops in this episode into almost a friendship. Merlin and Arthur chat casually in this episode, Merlin criticises Valiant in front of Arthur ( a noble mind you) and Arthur just smiles. They don't know each other that well yet, but there are definitely the beginnings of a friendship and a level of mutual respect. Arthur ruins every nice thing he says to Merlin by saying something very prattish immediately afterwards but hey that's what he's like and what their relationship as a whole is like (Merlin does it to), and it doesn't really change, but Arthur says them to begin with and that's important. Merlin also actually starts to like being Arthur's servant here, he's not saving Arthur because its his destiny but because he doesn't want him to die, because he likes him (not that much yet but they have just met).

Also one of the best lines ever about Merlin and Arthur is in this episode, when Kilgharrah says to Merlin that "the half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole." The eternal question with this show is what exactly that means, it's not just Arthur needs you to survive, to help him build Camelot, he needs Merlin to be himself, and Merlin needs Arthur to be himself. They need each other on a very fundamental level. My argument would be that they are at their best when they are with each other, they bring out the best parts of each other and they help each other to be better people. This plays to some extent into traditional Arthurian myth in which Merlin is Arthur's teacher, on a very fundamental level Merlin made the person Arthur became (he both helped Uther have a child by Igraine and then taught and raised that child). In this show though it is more mutual. Perhaps it is part of the wider message of the show regarding friendships and relationships, the idea that caring for others and helping each other is always the right decision to make, that you need people and friends to be happy and succeed in life. What makes Arthur good is that he is full of love for his friends and for his people, and his motivations (as are Merlin's, and Gwen's and any number of others) are always grounded in their love for others. The focus on relationships thus plays into the shows wider conversation about love and hate, and the differing worldviews of Arthur & Merlin and Uther & Morgana. Relationships are important, and fundamental to being a good person in this show, and the most important relationship in the show is Merlin and Arthur's.

Some thought's on destiny

This may be a funny place to put this, this episode doesn't really focus on destiny any more than any other episode (I mean episode 1 certainly focuses on it more), but if you haven't been able to tell already this is kind of just me writing down all the thoughts I had while watching, and I thought about this.

The idea of destiny is a key theme in Merlin, and its never 100% clear the relationship of destiny to the choices that people make. A slight ambiguity when dealing with destiny is, I think, always good, because it leaves it up to the audience to decide.

I do think the use of destiny here is playing into it being a traditional feature of many versions of Arthurian legend, the idea of destiny, fate and (perhaps especially) the will of God in determining the future was very present in the middle ages (when Arthurian legend took shape) so naturally it is present in many versions of the story. Arthur's eventual demise in almost all versions of the story is attributed to a predetermined fate, but it is also fundamentally a result of his own choices.

La Morte D'Arthur by Thomas Malory is the source of most central tenets of the legend as we see them today (quick note I haven't actually read it, I just vaguely know the plot from versions of the story that drew heavily from it- TH White's The Once and Future King series for one). Arthur's death is attributed to some extent to divine punishment for his ethical transgressions. In most versions of this story it is having a child by his sister, he doesn't know that she's his sister until later, but he is nonetheless held responsible and the child that is born is Mordred. Mordred who we all know is destined to kill Arthur. This is predetermined but its source is in Arthur's own actions, and later in the story Arthur is offered an alternative fate it all comes down to his own choices, and in the end, although initially trying to make peace, he chooses to fight Mordred (I am oversimplifying this but this is the gist) and he dies.

This is a quote from the article in which I got a lot of this information

"Arthur's dream has been read as disclosing to him the fate that Fortune has ordained for him; but it does not have to be read in this way. Rather, Fortune might be seen as dispensing to Arthur the punishment that, according to Merlin much earlier in the Morte, God has decreed is to be inflicted on Arthur because of the transgression that he has committed. Fortune, in other words, might be thought to be delivering to Arthur the fate that his own actions have determined, not a fate that she has determined herself."- Marilyn Corrie

I'm getting a lot of this analysis from an article by Marilyn Corrie (See bibliography), as having not read La Morte D'Arthur, I was interested in how fate and destiny was dealt with in the primary source for most Arthurian writers. It is important to note that many read La Morte as Arthur's fate being entirely predetermined with no weight given to Arthur's actions in determining it. This is an issue that depends on the critic and the view they take.

But how this relates to Merlin is a different question. The emphasis on God's punishment and mercy does not exist in Merlin at all, fate and destiny within this show do not include the idea of divine retribution (excepting perhaps the episode about the Disir- who offer the chance to change his fate). However, the point about the fate being determined by choices still exists, this is honestly more a conversation for analysing season 5, but Merlin and Arthur's choices as surely bring about his fate as they try to avoid it. They're treatment of Mordred (although Arthur treats him well- but all the stuff with Kara was in many ways a mistake- albeit understandable)) brings about his betrayal, it was still Mordred's choice and they should not be held entirely accountable for it but nonetheless their choices (and Mordred's) bring about what happens. Arthur's fate may be inevitable, but its not predetermined, it is determined by the choices he makes, but the problem is that every single choice the characters make that lead to the ending are entirely in character and that's what makes the end inevitable, it is possible but unlikely they would've acted differently. Its like a self fulfilling prophecy.

Another feature of destiny is the audiences own position in all versions of Arthurian legend. Fundamentally we are all assumed to know the story. The King Arthur story is a huge part of the cultural memory of the UK, France and Europe generally and hence any country in the world significantly influenced by them (a huge number due to their empires) or heavily populated by emigrants from there has it as part of its cultural memory as well. We know how the story ends, we know that Arthur is destined to be the greatest king because for us it has already happened, we've already heard the story. Destiny, then, is not just the determinism of these characters lives by an outside force but a reflection of their position in relation to audience, as a story that has already been told, a story that everyone knows the ending. It is destined because it has already happened, we just want to see the choices and decisions that led to that point, how everything comes about. Another quote from Marilyn Corrie:

"But it is important, I think, not to confuse the predetermined trajectory of the story that Malory is relating in his work with the stance that the text takes on the causes of the events that bring that story to a close. Given that the destruction of Arthur and his knights was an essential coordinate of the Arthurian legend, its presence in Malory's work was indeed predetermined."

If I manage to keep up this analysis up to season 5 I will certainly touch more on this,

Interesting/fun stuff

Morgana has her first nightmare in this episode (which aside from being exciting on a narrative level) means she (like Merlin and Arthur) realises that he is going to die. The cinematography of her walking to the window and seeing Arthur practice with a sword outside and then switch to a shot of Merlin desperately trying to turn the statue into a dog is beautiful- it is so tragic, these 3 people who know Arthur is going to die but can do absolutely nothing about it

This episode actually builds up the tragedy of Arthur's seemingly inevitable death here very well, the music that plays in the lead up to the bout is mournful and seems like an omen of death

Also Morgana helping Arthur with his armour is very tragic, and you see that despite how much they argue they really do love each other (typical siblings)

When Merlin asks Gwen why people keep thinking its his job to solve it and she says "because it is, isn't it?" Maybe its not actually Merlin's job but he has a duty to try because he's the only one who knows about the danger and although Gwen doesn't realise it he's the only one with the power to stop it

This plays overall into Merlin's questions about destiny, and it is in some ways a realisation of why he's the one who has to fulfill it, because he's the only one who can and the world will be better for it

The montage of Merlin dressing Arthur (2nd time) is hilarious, it's just like the show going 'look! Merlin has achieved a career milestone he has learnt how to dress Arthur in his armour!'

Bibliography:

Corrie, M. "God may well fordo desteny": Dealing with Fate, Destiny, and Fortune in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte Darthur and Other Late Medieval Writing," Studies in Philology 110 (2013): 690-713. Accessed on July 12, 2021. https://www.jstor.org/stable/24392057?seq=19#metadata_info_tab_contents

#merlin bbc #the adventures of merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #arthur #merlin emrys #emrys #King Arthur #Arthurian legend #Fate #Destiny #Friendship #merlin analysis #Arthur's character #analysis #merlin goodness #nobility #arthurian retelling #arthurian

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hvitserkmarcosource · 4 years

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The Arrangement

Chapter Five: Dancing with the Devil

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of rape, Sad (Warnings will be updated with every chapter, so make sure you read them!)

Chapter Five Summary: You do everything you can, to save Hvitserk.

Word Count: 2,259

This chapter gets a little dark, but don’t worry there is a light at the end of the tunnel!

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

................................................

The walk back to the castle was long, or at least it felt like it, like your feet were dragging. And maybe they were, your brain must have told them what you planned to do, and they were trying to stop you by slowing you down. By the time you reach the doors you are winded and sore. The cold finally catching up to you for not wearing the fur.

As you enter the castle the tall wooden doors slam behind you, sinking your heart further into your chest. Much like the night you arrived. Also like that night, you are terrified of the man sitting on the throne. His blue eyes are already boring into your soul and wrapping around all of your courage, effectively snuffing it out

Suddenly you realized that being the center of this man's attention was a very bad place to be. ”You are awake early. Princess.” Ivar states

To which you nod “I could not sleep, once the sun rose I decided to take a short walk. Try to clear my head.”

“Mmhmm, did that walk include visiting my brother?”

Lying to him crosses your mind, it would make this conversation much easier, but with Ivar being Ivar you know he already knows you saw Hvitserk. He probably had his men spying on you the entire time. So you tell the truth. “I did see him, yes. You did not forbid me, so I thought it would be alright.”

He smirks, and you get the urge to smack it off of his face. “It is quite alright,” he says, surprising you “ I could arrange for you to permanently stay with him outside. If you’d like?”

His words cause anger to bubble up inside of you. “I would actually like to talk to you my king, if you have a moment? I know you must be terribly busy, what with all the pillaging and murder you commit.” You hold your head up high. And with a smile you say “You must be so exhausted.”

Ivar stands up then and he begins to walk towards you. You stand your ground, trying to maintain what courage you have left. Even slumped over on his crutch he is taller than you. Much broader, and stronger. Almost as big as a bear, you imagine… you’ve never actually seen a bear up close. One thing is for certain though, Ivar is definitely more unpredictable. With a bear at least you can tell when it’s about to strike.

“When it comes to you, I have all the time in the world.”

You follow him into what you assume are his chambers. And he points to a table near the window “Please, sit down.” You do, hoping the nerves in your stomach will relax some now that you have a table between the two of you. “What did you want to speak about?”

You take a deep breath, and close your eyes for a moment. Were you really going to do this? Risk everything you’ve worked so hard to protect, just to save one man? Were you being selfish? Or the opposite?

“If I divulge something to you, Will you set Hvitserk free?”

He quirks his head and smiles, all teeth like a snarling beast. “Depends on what you are planning to divulge?”

“I need to know that Hvitserk being freed is a possibility first.” Your voice raises, trying to stand your ground.

He nods “If your information is good enough, yes. I will free him.”

Should you believe the word of a man you don’t trust? All of your past life experience is screaming no. But your heart is pleading with you to do everything you possibly can to help Hvitserk. And what will become of you if he dies? Will you return to England? You couldn’t do that.

“My father's kingdom,” you say, voice no longer strong “If you agree to set Hvitserk free, I will tell you how to get into his castle without being seen.” Excitement flashes across Ivars face and your stomach does a flip. “You must swear to me he will be set free.”

Ivar extends his arm and lays it on the table. Rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, he shows you a bracelet. ”I know that you Christians have the Bible. But in Kattegat we believe in multiple Gods and this is sacred to us. It is called an arm ring, we cannot take it off, unless we renounce our Gods and Odin. It is holy to us like your Bible is holy to you. I will swear on my arm ring to set my brother free, how does that sound hmm?”

You agree, against your better judgement. If the arm ring was like their Bible then that was good enough for you. “Set him free first and then I will tell you.”

Ivar slams his hand on the table and points at you, his face red with anger “You are in no position to be making any demands!” He screams “I am your king!”

“And I am the woman who knows everything about the king and kingdom you wish to overthrow!” You yell back “I suggest, you stop yelling so we can act like civilized human beings and come to a peaceful compromise.”

Ivar snickers at you in disgust “The last man to yell at me like that was hung right outside of those doors, in front of his family.”

You stand up then and look down at your king “Then it is a good thing that I am not a man.”

................................................

A deal had been made, one that you were content with. Hvitserk would go free and you would show Ivar how to get into your father’s castle at the same moment. The only problem is you did not want Hvitserk to know what you were going to do, you did not want him to see you break just to set him free.

Because isn’t that what you are doing? Breaking? You are about to break the one promise you said you never would. You are endangering the lives of innocent people, your people. And you so readily thought to do so. You did not hesitate, you did not try to think of another way. You spilled your guts for the life of one man, because he was nice to you… you would make a terrible queen.

The sun had set by the time you and Ivar came to a decision. The sky a dark and inky black color, not one star shines tonight. No wind blows, it is deathly quiet. Even the people are silent. The only solace is the fire burning on the torches, lighting your way to Hvitserk. He is asleep when you finally reach him, asleep or unconscious. His face is bloody again and there is a dark bruise by his mouth.

“What happened to being a merciful King?” You seethe, as you bend down and wipe Hvitserk’s face clean once more. He groans in pain as he regains consciousness. Your name falls from his lips and you smile “I’m here, you will be okay.”

You feel Ivar place a hand on your shoulder and you look up at him “Let us finish this, I am a busy king as you stated earlier. Many lives to ruin and such, Princess.”

Ivar holds out his hand and one of his guards hands him a rolled up map, to which he taps you on the head with, once he has it in his grasp. Laughing at your shock at being treated like a child. “Show me where to enter the castle and my brother will go free.”

You hear Hvitserk grunt behind you and you take the map from Ivar. Unrolling it and laying it on the ground so you can have a closer look. “Here,” you say “there is a gate under the sewers. It is unguarded and the lock is old and rusted, easily broken. It will lead you to the wine cellar, you will be met with force but only two men stand guard there. After that you are inside.”

You are pulled up, harshly, The grip Ivar has on your upper arm is sure to leave a bruise. “Good!” He says loudly “let us go inside, we will work out some final details while my men free Hvitserk and take him to the healer.”

You begin to protest but to no avail, Ivar drags you back inside of the castle and throws you to the floor once you enter his chambers. “Why didn’t you let me stay with him? I gave you what you wanted, I kept my end of the deal.”

He shrugs “And I kept mine… but I need one more thing from you.”

Glaring up at him you say “One more thing, wasn’t part of the deal!”

He smirks “I was going to keep you awake for this, but seeing as you have trouble keeping your mouth shut-“

Before you have time to react, Ivar slams your head against the floor and your vision starts to fade to black. Much like tonight's sky.

................................................

Everything is a blur as you wake up, your vision foggy and dizzying. A sharp pain shoots through your head and you gasp, reaching up to touch it. Only to find it sensitive- and then it all comes rushing back. The deal, Hvitserk, being dragged back into the castle, into Ivars chambers… Your heart begins to race when you remember he knocked you out. Suddenly you sit up. Blinking away the fog from your eyes.

Relief washes over you when you see you are in Hvitserk‘s room and not Ivar’s. And then dread fills your heart, did Ivar really let Hvitserk go? Or were you a fool to trust him?

It seems early enough that you should be able to leave the castle without being caught by Ivar. You could go to the healer and make sure Hvitserk is there. Check on him and maybe get the healer to look at your head. Looking around the room you spot our cloak at the end of the bed and your shoes laying by the door. There was no need to dress properly right now, this was urgent. You have to make sure the king kept his word. If not you need to warn your father.

Uncovering yourself from the blankets, you swing your legs over the bed. Only to be met with more pain. A sharp pain that takes your breath away. A sob escapes you when you look down to see blood on your white nightdress. A small stain between your legs. More tears fall when you realize what Ivar did to you… what he took from you. What you would have to live with for the rest of your life. The knowledge of what he did without anyone to tell it to.

You would be hung if you ever spoke about this, and Hvitserk would never want to marry you if he finds out. You were no good now, tainted, destroyed by a man. Ripped open and used by someone that wasn’t your beloved. How could you stay here? How could you look at Ivar everyday knowing what he did to you? How could you live in constant fear that he would do it again? He may have knocked you unconscious this time, but you knew he would not show you the same kindness the second time.

Every word he said to you in the beginning was a lie. You were a prisoner and he made sure of it. He took this caged little bird and crushed it.

You cry until your tears dry and your eyes ache. And you sit at the edge of the bed for longer than that. Not having the strength to stand. A loud knock startles you, but you don’t find the words to tell whoever it is to leave you alone. A man enters and he looks at you with sadness. “Hvitserk has been asking to see you Princess. I will escort you when you are ready.” And then he leaves.

Hvitserk. He will hate you if he finds out. Hate you even more than he already does. You choke back another sob when you finally stand. Walking towards the end of the bad to get your cloak, and then your shoes. When you open the door the man is standing there “Is he alright?” You ask, your voice dry from crying.

He nods “He is, thanks to you. Would you like me to carry you Princess? The walk to the healer is a long one.”

You whimper. “Does everyone know?”

He shakes his head “No, and I only do because I saw the blood on your dress.”

“You do not have to carry me, I will walk.” If Ivar sees you, you will not let him know you are in pain. You will not give him that satisfaction.

He nods and takes your hand “At least let me escort you properly.” In his mind, it was a silent way for him to help you walk and you were thankful for that. Thankful for him to allow you to depend on his strength while yours is diminished.

When you reach the healers tent you spot Hvitserk immediately. There are people standing around talking in hushed tones, probably talking about how disheveled you looked. And about how a son of Ragnar could never want someone like you.

Yes they are looking and talking, but you don’t care.

You run to him anyway.

Tag List: @alexhogh7137 @ivarthebloodyking @sfyri @curlyhairedhoseok @mavalenovaninagavi @lol-haha-joke @joebob15274

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yukiwrites · 3 years

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Thank you for the support and patience as always, @breeachuu! This one was so fun to write, I hope you like it! ;v;)

Summary: Wolfram worried about Dimitri, especially since his close aide was presumed dead. Besides, he wanted to say by his friend's side and help him through this turbulent time, be it through battles, grievances or finding old friends again.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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After defending the monastery from the imperial forces, the group, under Gilbert’s advice, started to call itself, ‘the Kingdom Army’, since now they had the legitimate King within their numbers.

However, these very numbers were too few to be able to be called an ‘army’ per se. With their current forces, they would be barely able to protect the monastery, let alone conduct a head on assault on the empire. For the moment, they needed numbers to strengthen their ranks.

Rather, they needed everything that went into maintaining an army: funds, resources, people, soldiers… Their forces were composed of the loyal knights that followed Gilbert’s attempt of searching for the prince; the Knights of Seiros under Byleth and the former classmates (with whatever help from their Houses they could bring).

With what they currently had, there was a dire need of help to make up the bulk of their army -- and the only place they could look to at that moment was at the dukedom of Fraldarius, Felix’s home.

“Once we settled here, I sent word to Lord Rodrigue about His Highness, but perhaps I should send another one, for precaution.” Gilbert commented once they all sat down for a meeting. “The dukedom might be busy fighting in the frontlines, but they’re the largest remaining loyal territory, so our options aren’t much at the moment…”

“I’ll send word to my old man about it, but I’m sure whatever news about the boar there will be enough to have him running.” Felix grumbled as usual, openly glaring at Dimitri, who stood cross-armed by the wall instead of sitting down amongst everyone.

Wolfie glanced between the two of them, wondering who they were talking about. From the looks of it, this Lord Rodrigue person seemed to be someone who held Dimitri at a very high regard. That was good! Dimitri needed all the support he could get, honestly.

Having that in mind, the half-manakete waited anxiously for the reply, though for different reasons than his peers. Of course, he wanted them to have the numbers to fight back as much as anyone, but the most important part was to have another ally by Dimitri’s side. Wolfie could see how having people around him started to affect Dimitri little by little.

He spoke more now, outside meetings -- though they were short, usually one-word replies -- and made himself scarce around places people were busy cleaning. Wolfram also saw Dimitri take walks during the night (while he stretched his wings), lingering on places that seemed to have held importance to him in the past: the Goddess Tower, the garden right outside the ballroom as well as the… entrance to the Holy Mausoleum.

Wolfram could imagine what sort of memories each and every one of these places brought Dimitri, but to only watch and be unable to help- it was agonizing.

He respected Dimitri’s decision to be left alone, so he simply did everything he could AROUND Dimitri to be of help to him, be it delivering his meals or just hanging around him during slow afternoons… But to watch him wander during the night, unable to sleep as he was haunted by the past… that was too much.

Wolfie silently landed beside Dimitri as the prince headed back to the cathedral, his sensitive ears picking up some mumblings coming out of Dimitri’s lips.

“It’s not like that, Glenn…” Dimitri trudged towards the center of the cathedral, illuminated by the moonlight that seeped through the holes on the ceiling. “Please, do not doubt my resolve.” He looked up, as though he was talking to someone of a higher plane than his. “Father, Stepmother… And you too, Dedue. I shall bring you her head. Once I do, finally, you will finally be at peace…”

Wolfram’s heart ached at the mention of Dedue’s name, as though Dimitri was actually talking to the dead. Clutching his chest, Wolfie felt a lump in his throat prevent him from saying anything. Instead, Dimitri turned to him, unfazed, as though he knew Wolfram was there all along.

The exhaustion behind those once-clear blue eye of his made Wolfie’s nose itch with upcoming tears. “Dimitri, um-”

“What do you want?” Dimitri’s voice ran cold, like a running river, deep within the mountain. His gaze was glazed over with exhaustion, but his body was firm, leaving no openings for any sudden attack.

Trembling as he struggled to hold back his tears, Wolfie bit his lower lip, looking down to Dimitri’s feet. “I just… came to check on you. I was stretching my wings and saw you walk around the monastery, so I got worried and-”

“I have never felt better, Wolfram.” Dimitri’s low, deep-reaching voice squeezed Wolfie’s heart like it had a hand of itself. “As we prepare to launch an attack on Enbarr, we move ever closer… I move closer to having her head.”

Crushed under the weight of Dimitri’s grief and pain, Wolfie simply nodded, unable to hold back the tears anymore. “Mhm, we’ll do our best do win this, Dimitri… for you, for everyone.”

Dimitri slowly closed his eyes, raising his head to the moon. “Yes… for everyone who’s died so far. The dead will have their revenge.”

Wolfram felt some sort of disconnection between what he and Dimitri meant, despite their words being basically the same. Dimitri was being haunted by the darkness of his past and by the death of his loved ones, so his words held meaning in that sense.

However, was it truly alright for him to guide his every step through the will of the dead? Wouldn’t that be… sad? His human lifespan was already short as it was, so to focus it on anything other than oneself would only make him suffer, no?

Still, although his actions would lead to his own self accomplishment, it would also mean the end of the war -- and wasn’t peace a worthy objective to fight for? Wasn’t it the whole reason many of the people around Wolfram had dedicated their lives to? If it was okay for THEM to fight for peace, why was it different for DIMITRI to do so, spurred by his own ideals?

He was suffering, yes, but if he said that he would feel better once everything was over, then who was Wolfram to say otherwise?

The half-manakete couldn’t say anything, despite his mind working tirelessly to unravel that knot his brain had become. Dimitri simply trudged back to a dark corner where the moonlight didn’t reach to sit down and close his eyes as Wolfram stood in place for a few more hours before the light of dawn startled him into running back to the dormitories.

Word from Lord Rodrigue was well received by the army, as he had agreed to send reinforcements and supplies to their cause. The only condition, or rather, the necessity, was that they had to meet halfway between the dukedom and the monastery, at the Valley of Torment, since Fraldarius was the center of the frontlines.

The name of the place itself was enough reason to make one worry about going there, but Dimitri seemed pleased with that outcome, as he had smirked and said that the imperial dogs wouldn’t go through the extreme weather to stop them.

Regardless of where, their next step was finally set in stone: to the Valley of Torment to receive Rodrigue’s men, so they could finally begin their war against the Empire in earnest.

A week or so after Wolfram had told Caspar and Dorothea about his secret, the shorter man asked to be brought during one of these ‘wing stretches’ of Wolfie’s.

Wolfram wasn’t a physical type fighter, so finding a comfortable position for him to carry Caspar around was difficult. Caspar could be short, but he was well fit and full of muscles, so he was heavier than what Wolfie could handle.

He had suggested Caspar to fly on Aquilo, but although that would also be great, Caspar wanted to know how it was to actually fly with wings on one’s back, so they found a better solution for the both of them: Wolfie would hold both of Caspar’s hands and fly around with Caspar’s feet dangling in the air. Of course, the one who would hold himself would be Caspar, since Wolfram’s arms wouldn’t have that much strength. Besides, Wolfie would focus all of his forces on his wings so that they could keep flapping, but the most he could do was a short 30-minutes flight around the close buildings.

That apparently had been enough for Caspar, so they decided to do it on alternate days, to give Wolfram time to recover his strength. Once Caspar bragged about it to Dorothea, Wolfie offered to carry her as well, but she seemed hesitant on flying without the proper apparatus, so she politely declined.

Instead, she liked to hear more stories of Wolfie’s family back home -- every time he talked about them, his whole face lit up with joy. In Dorothea’s eyes, the poor boy needed some joy in his life at that moment; he looked somber and somber every passing day, as he did his best to be of help to Dimitri and Byleth.

To Wolfram, those talks helped him cement an idea he had had during the five years he spent guarding Byleth during her Slumber: he wanted to tell her everything -- and that meant all of it, not the shorter version he had given Caspar and Dorothea.

He had to tell Byleth his true role and who had sent him on this mission; it felt only fair to do so towards one who now shared a power similar to his own.

Deciding on his next course of action, Wolfie would tell Byleth everything once they returned from the Valley of Torment. He didn’t want to drop such big news on her out of nowhere, especially when she was so busy she looked more haggard every day.

It was a good decision on Wolfram’s part, since the general atmosphere of their army changed completely once Rodrigue and his men arrived. There were more people to feed, but the morale was higher than ever, especially after the win against the Grey Lion of the traitorous House Rowe.

Rodrigue had also brought with him the treasure of the royal family, Areadbhar, the Hero’s Relic compatible with Dimitri’s Crest.

Now their army had the estranged King, the royal weapon, the loyalty of his faithful subjects and some numbers to start advancing on their quest towards the imperial capital.

There were objections, sure, but the course was always set: they had to end the war as quickly as possible if they wanted to save anyone, be them dead or alive. Besides, Wolfram wanted whatever was best for Dimitri and Byleth, so he would follow their decisions and stay by their side no matter what.

During the ensuing meeting, they had decided to take the Great Bridge of Myrddin; it was a relatively close place between the borders of Garreg Mach, the Alliance and the Empire, so they would need to request aid from Claude to be able to successfully cross it.

The plan itself had many details to be talked about, so apart from Gilbert, Rodrigue and Byleth, everyone else was excused -- though Dimitri’s presence would be greatly appreciated, he excused himself after the bigger decision had been made. Before leaving, however, Wolfie expressed his need to talk with Byleth in private, so the professor told him to wait for her in her quarters.

Walking the same path he had done in the past toward his shared room with Dedue made Wolfram wince as his eyes trailed towards the now empty room. Shaking his head, he entered Byleth’s unlocked room and sat by the desk, crossing his hands to put his thoughts in order.

He honestly thought that Byleth would take a while to arrive, but she was back much quicker than he imagined. Though, in truth, he had just been lost in thought for a long time in human’s standards.

“Are you alright? What did you want to talk about?” Byleth took off her coat and hung it, sitting across Wolfie without even freshening herself after the long meeting.

“Ah, I’m fine; thanks for asking, though.” He smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s just that, no matter how much I think, I don’t know how to say this… And I already said it once with Dimitri…” He mumbled the last part, remembering how he was also mumbling when he revealed everything to Dimitri five years ago.

Byleth thought for a moment before adding, “is it about that transformation you showed on the day of the invasion?”

“Ah, so you remember it. I was wondering how much you saw before you fell into the Slumber…”

“Slumber?” Byleth tilted her head to the side.

“Yeah, I think whatever happened at that time when your hair changed colors gave you the same powers as, well, as my species.” He bobbed his head to the sides. “Back in my world, those who have the blood of dragons have at least a few Slumbers during their lives. My Mother said it was to stabilize the power inside them, since they only get stronger as the centuries pass...”

Byleth took one hand to her chin in thought. “Hm…”

The idea that there were other worlds wasn’t foreign to her, as she herself had been thrown into a world made of pure darkness. It was surprising, however, to find out that there were more people who resembled Sothis and Rhea than she had imagined. To be called a whole new species? That was new.

Wolfie pressed on. “I came to this world to be close to the Heart of Immortals, as our, um, goddess commanded it.” He looked around as though he had said something forbidden, wincing for a moment as if he had been pinched on the ear. “So when I saw you, I knew I had to stick close to you as I felt the Presence of the Heart within you.”

Byleth moved her hand to her silent chest. “You could feel it? But not even Rhea seemed sure of it at first…”

“The dragons in this world seem different from mine? From what I saw, Lady Rhea didn’t use a dragonstone, nor did anyone seem to notice how there were two others among them…” Wolfie mumbled before adding, “back where I’m from, we learn from infancy how to feel the currents of power within living beings, mostly to be able to feel the presence of the dragon blood inside other people. We’re not very much in number, see, so it’s good to always be able to tell when there’s one of us nearby.”

Byleth remained silent, simply nodding. There was much for her to digest, what with being called a new species and dealing with the help of another world entirely; but it was at least good news to be able to discover more about herself -- and perhaps about her lost friend, Sothis.

“We will need to talk more about this, Wolfram. Thank you for giving me all this information.” The professor finally said, opening her clear eyes with conviction. “I’ll call on you to ask more questions in the future.”

“Sure!” Wolfie nodded happily. “It’s great to take this weight off of my chest, but it’s even better to be able to help in any way I can.”

“Mhm, thank you again.” Byleth smiled calmly. “Please keep on staying by Dimitri’s side until then, I can see how hard you’re trying.”

Wolfie looked down, embarrassed and sad at the same time. “Yup, leave it to me.”

They said their goodbyes before Wolfie left to his shared room with Caspar. He walked slowly, letting the cold night air keep him company until he reached the second floor. In his mind, he thought of ways to be of help to those people who had accepted him so readily within their ranks. He felt more at home than ever before, surrounded by those in whom he placed his trust.

As they marched towards the Great Bridge, Wolfram could understand why it was called ‘great’ in the first place. As he was scouting from the sky, he saw its massive size in comparison to other large bridges used to move large numbers of people.

Once Wolfie came down to report the size of the imperial forces waiting for them, there was a brief discussion of their plans.

“It matters not if they were waiting for us. I will kill them all, be it one or one hundred.” Dimitri sighed as though stating the obvious.

“We’re planning so we’re able to share the burden, don’t be like that.” Byleth tried to console, though that simply earned her a glare from Dimitri.

“What would you do, if you saw the people who stole everything from you? If you saw them right before your eyes, living carefree lives and feeling no guilt.” he raised his chin to look down on the short professor. “Would you feel nothing? Do nothing?”

After a moment of silence, he continued. “ Five years ago... Did you not deem the woman who killed Jeralt to be unforgivable? I am most certain that you did. You couldn't let her get away with her crime, so you took up your sword in pursuit.”

Byleth took a short breath, then nodded in defeat. “It’s true.”

“Precisely my point, so there is no need to concern yourself over ‘burdens’. I already carry the will of the dead.”

Felix clicked his tongue in annoyance. “You're wasting your time. There's nothing to be gained from exchanging words with a boar that has lost its mind. Every last one of us has lost someone we care for. But we choose to suppress our anger and go right on living. Revenge can't bring the dead back to life.” he shook his head and shrugged with a grimace. “What the boar is doing is simply stacking more corpses.”

After Felix said that, Wolfram couldn’t hear much of how the discussion came to an end. Since the words felt like they were directed at the knot in Wolfram’s brain, the half-manakete couldn’t help but sit on them for a bit.

Although Wolfie never really got along with Felix (and he also disliked the way he treated Dimitri), his words rang true. Perhaps the way Wolfie could help Dimitri would be within that principle…

Regardless of his feelings, the battle for the Bridge was nigh.

From atop Aquilo, Wolfie served as messenger and as an useful hit-and-run unit to strike at the soldiers protecting the ballista. That was the most dangerous weapon for him and his winged friend inside that enormous bridge -- not even the demonic beast or the long ranged mages would be as dangerous as that single weapon, so he had to take it down fast.

During one of such moves, Wolfram heard a familiar voice amidst the noise of steel meeting steel.

It was Dedue.

“Your Highness! Apologies for the late arrival.” The large man huffed, barely winded from running miles while wearing heavy armor.

“Dedue?!” Wolfram shouted from the skies, turning Aquilo’s reins towards the rear from whence Dedue came.

“You’re aliv-” Dimitri’s eye shook as he took one step towards the scarred face he had known so well. “How?”

“I will tell you everything later, but for now-” Dedue held his battle stance, looking at Dimitri when something caught his eye from the direction Wolfram came. He widened his eyes and hardened his jaw by reflex, “watch out!” He shouted.

Seeing the change in Dedue’s expression, Dimitri quickly glanced at where he had been looking, frowning deeply once he saw the ballista pointed right at Wolfram’s back. Just at the same time Dedue shouted, Dimitri flung Areadbhar towards the tower, destroying it completely.

The lance flew past Wolfram’s shoulder, landing on the tower he was coming from with a loud explosion, as though someone had used fire magic or something; but it was simply the strength of a single man.

Dimitri stomped towards the place Wolfram landed in shock, his blue eye gleaming with rage. “Don’t be careless.” He said in a grave voice as he stepped past Wolfie to retrieve his lance.

Shaking, Wolfram watched Dimitri’s back as he seemingly forgot he was in the middle of battle. “T-thank you-”

“Are you alright, Wolfram?” Alarmed, Dedue approached. “Please take better care of yourself; we can’t afford to lose you.”

“Y-yes,” Wolfram gulped, unable to stop the trembling. He even forgot how surprised and relieved he had been moments ago after seeing Dedue. “Thank you for worrying, Dedue.”

The large man simply smiled, nodded and left to be by Dimitri’s side. “You should take a rest, I shall inform the Professor of your condition.”

Wolfie’s body was cold and even his pupils were shaking. He had fought many battles at that point, but this was the first time he felt so close to death.

He couldn’t even stop to think of how Dimitri had saved him.

“Are you alright, boy?” His voice trembled. “L-let’s take shelter over there for a bit…” he dismounted Aquilo to pat him on the head, pulling the reins towards their camp right down the bridge.

Aquilo seemed to take it all in stride, so Wolfram was the one being consoled rather than the other way around. It took him a few hours to calm himself down, so when he came back to the battle, it was basically already won.

Dorothea saw him from afar and approached once Wolfie landed, worry written all over her face. “Wolfie! Are you alright? When I didn’t see you during the battle, I assumed-”

“Nyaha, thanks for worrying, Dorothea, I’m fine now!” he lied, forcing a smile. “I just got surprised by an arrow aimed at my back and was resting for a bit.”

“Oh, you silly boy, you don’t need to pretend to be okay with me!” She pulled him into a hug, though since she was shorter than him, it looked as though HE was the one hugging her. “I’m terrified every single day when we go to battle, so there’s no need to hide being afraid.”

The trembling returned, but now Wolfie had a warm hand and a friendly shoulder to rely on, which he did. He rested his head on Dorothea’s shoulder and sobbed quietly, enjoying her pats on his back.

Once night had fallen and the bridge was conquered, Wolfram finally felt well enough to welcome his lost friend with a genuine smile on his face.

“Dedue!” He ran up to the taller man, holding his big hands with his own. “I’m so glad you’re okay… So glad!”

Smiling, Dedue squeezed Wolfie’s hands. “Thank you for worrying, Wolfram. From now on, let’s do our best to support His Highness.”

“Mhm, mhm!” Wolfie nodded happily, drying a few stray tears that drenched his face.

“Wolf, man!” Caspar slapped Wolfram’s back, completely unaware of the atmosphere. “I didn’t see you during battle after a while; where were you?”

“Ah, I-I didn’t feel well, so I retreated.” Wolfie smiled awkwardly, rubbing the place Caspar slapped.

“You okay now?” Caspar looked around Wolfram before smiling and nodding to himself. “Alright, let’s go, then! I wanna show you around this bridge! I came over all the time when I was a kid, so I’ve been telling peeps where’s what.”

“Heehee, alright, let’s go!” Wolfie nodded, then turned to his other friend. “Let’s go, Dedue!”

“Yeah, man, c’mon!” Caspar pulled Wolfram who held Dedue’s hand, so the three young men went around the bridge and its towers under Caspar’s guidance.

They had decided to raise camp on the bridge itself, rather than leaving a detached part of their army to guard it and retreat back to the monastery. Besides, their next battlefield was right in front of them -- the Gronder Field, where they had had a mock battle between Houses five years ago.

Well, Wolfram had arrived right after that battle, so he shared no such memories with his classmates, but he could still feel their tension. Dorothea was especially shaken, since she was someone who abhorred all that fighting from the start -- and now, to be forced to fight their former classmates? She felt sick.

Wolfie stayed by his friend’s side during the time it took them to prepare for battle. It would probably be a three way battle, since the messenger they sent to the Alliance was still to send word back.

Byleth and Gilbert were hoping that Claude would be able to help them again like when he diverted the imperial forces’ attention away from them during the battle for the Bridge, but it seemed as though they would need to force their way through any and everything in that upcoming battle.

To Dimitri, that didn’t seem to mean much, but Dedue, Wolfie and Byleth knew better. He was much too focused on being freed from the tight grip the dead held over him to be able to focus on anything other than Edelgard.

It was said that she would appear in the battle herself, so Dimitri had been more obstinate in his convictions than ever before. He didn’t listen to Byleth when she said not to rush into battle, nor did he listen when he managed to catch up to Edelgard amidst the roaring flames of the explosions she had caused.

Watching them from the sky, Wolfram held his breath during their battle. Dimitri roared like a real lion, using everything he had in his attacks, shattering Edelgard’s armor and wounding her in a way that seemed beyond repair.

“Your head is mine now, MINE!” Dimitri threw Areadbhar to stop Edelgard from retreating, intent on tearing her limbs apart with his bare hands when Hubert teleported beside the emperor and took her away from danger. “Get back here! GET BACK HERE!” Dimitri roared, steamrolling through the heaps of soldiers that bodyblocked him from pursuing the retreating forces.

“Your Highness! You’re alive!” Rodrigue galloped to where Dimitri was, fighting his way through the soldiers that started to overwhelm the prince. “We have to retreat to the Bridge of Myrddin! The imperial reinforcements are coming!” He rushed to pull Dimitri’s hand, but the prince pointed to where Edelgard had disappeared to.

“She’s still alive! Pursue her!!” He shoved the men around him like they were life-sized dolls, his bloodshot eye focused on Fort Merceus, that stood in such a great distance it was but a dot in the horizon.

Amid the confusion of soldiers, corpses and smoke, Wolfram couldn’t see well what was going on at Dimitri’s position. He was about to lower Aquilo when he saw an unusual movement from one of their soldiers -- she was a maiden that had been recruited recently, who had been ordered to deliver messages here and there.

Instead of doing what she was tasked with, the girl headed towards Dimitri’s position with obstinate focus, as though she was about to be released from all of her suffering. Before Wolfie could even blink, he saw as the girl took out a knife and jumped at Dimitri’s defenseless back, stabbing him between his neck and shoulder.

“Argh…!” Dimitri groaned, falling on his knees from the pain.

“Diiid I take you by surprise?” The girl laughed madly, pulling the knife out only to stab him again.

Wolfram stopped breathing. He started seeing everything move very slowly. “Dimitri! Aquilo, fly, boy! Fly!” He urged his wyvern to fly with everything he had, but Wolfie could see that he wouldn’t make it in time before she struck again. Dimitri wouldn’t hold on if she aimed for his neck again… “NO!” Wolfram jumped out of Aquilo in desperation, transforming as he zoomed towards the girl with his weapon in hand.

He was seeing red.

Not Dimitri, not him! He thought as his brain shook with the impact of ramming into the girl right after she landed the third blow. He could hear the sound of blade piercing flesh, unknowing if that was his own weapon on the girl’s blade on Dimitri’s neck.

“Dimitri!” He gasped as he got up from the girl’s lifeless body, turning around quickly. The sight that greeted him was Dimitri holding Rodrigue’s fallen body instead. Breathing quickly as his senses were exponentially enhanced due to the transformation, Wolfie saw everything in slow motion.

“Rodrigue!!” Dimitri shouted, his voice shaking. Color had returned to his face as though to remind him he still numbered within the living.

“Are you safe…? Tell me it wasn’t in vain…” The thin man raised his hand to Dimitri’s blood-soaked cloak. The wound wasn’t deep, but since it was on the neck, it bled a lot.

“No, no, NO! Don't die... Please, don't die, Rodrigue!” Dimitri’s chin trembled. “Father, Stepmother, Glenn... They all died and left me behind…”

Wolfram clutched his chest in sympathy, his own eyes shedding tears to a man he knew for such a short while but who held such a great importance to his dear friend.

Rodrigue coughed blood, his voice thinning out as life ebbed away. “None of them... none of us... died for you. I'm dying for what I believe in... just as they did.” He caressed Dimitri’s cheek one last time, smiling with the last of his strength. “Your life is your own. It belongs to no other, living or dead. Live for what you believe in…” His voice faded, and his hand fell limp beside his body.

“Rodrigue…!” Dimitri sobbed as he clutched the still warm body. Wolfie held back the urge of hugging him there and then, wanting to respect his friend’s space to grieve.

Besides, he felt a burning stare on him, so after finally taking his gaze away from the scene, he saw how many of his classmates and fellow soldiers looked at him with appalled expressions. Widening his eyes, Wolfram noticed that he was still transformed.

As though in a daze, Wolfie called back his wings and scales, so shook he didn’t even know where to begin thinking.

There was too much going on.

Noticing the air of confusion, Byleth quickly asserted the situation and barked orders here and there for the people to get back to their senses. “Ingrid, go bring Mercedes right away, and Sylvain, call Felix over here. You and you there, go search into that girl and find me everything you can about her.”

The way she calmly but effectively put the people to work made them focus on the most pressing matters, though there was still shock in their minds.

There was so much going on.

On top of all that, it started raining on their way back to the Bridge. Since Gronder Field was a wide plain, the terrain soon became hard to march on, but none of the soldiers complained about it. They marched back in silence, under the thundering sound of the rain muddying their boots.

Wolfie couldn’t take his eyes off of Dimitri, so he simply followed the march back to the Bridge, unable to think about what to say to everyone else. Instead, he couldn’t take Dimitri’s tear stained face out of his head.

He looked so… miserable. He had been a man who had lost everything not only once, not twice, but now three times. It was enough grief to break a lesser man, and Dimitri had collapsed under its weight for a long time.

Wolfie was scared of what Dimitri could do now that he had lost the last of the family he had ever had. And so, he saw how Dimitri had watched their classmates bury Rodrigue at the Bridge’s graveyard and left for the stables.

His heart aching, Wolfram followed from a ways behind, the rain muffling his steps. He saw how Dimitri passed by the horses, pegasi and wyverns dragging his wounded body, uncaring of his own wellbeing. Then, he passed the stables and headed to the exit that led to the woods.

“No…!” He was going to leave! “Dimitri!” Wolfie ran up to the staggering man, blocking his way.

“What do you want?” Dimitri asked with a heavy voice. It carried SO much weight it made Wolfram wince.

“Where are you going? The dormitories are that way…”

Dimitri lowered his head. “It doesn’t concern you.”

Wolfie bit his lip. “It does! You’re-” he hesitated before lowering his head so Dimitri could look him in the eyes even with his lowered gaze. “You’re going to Enbarr, aren’t you? By now, she must’ve left Fort Merceus…”

“And what is it to you?” Dimitri sighed deeply, and Wolfie noticed how his lips were blue from the cold rain.

“I’m worried about you! I want this war to end as much as anyone, but your wellbeing matters more to me now than ending things quickly.”

“How selfish. Should I let the dead wait any longer when their respite is right within my grasp?” Dimitri clenched his fist.

Wolfie shook his head. “You know, I’m still confused about all this. It took me a long time to think about what to say to you in this sort of situation.” Wolfie felt his own body shaking from the cold, but compared to the freezing fear inside his chest with the thought of losing Dimitri, that was nothing.

“Do not even start with the nonsense about how I should move on with my life for their sake. That is merely the logic of the living. It's meaningless. Those who died with lingering regret... They will not loose their hold on me so easily.” Dimitri’s body slouched over, so tall and imposing, yet so exhausted and spent.

“Mhm, I didn’t even think about that, honestly. It’s just… humans’ lives are so short. Are you alright with dedicating your life to something someone failed to do while they were alive and then wasting your own life with that? Isn’t it better to do what you think it’s best and honor them as best you can? I don’t know any of them to say ‘hey, they wouldn’t want you to do that’, but I know that I wouldn’t want you to do that. Neither would Byleth, or Rodrigue, or Dedue… We, too, want you to be alive and do things you want to do.”

“Short lives, huh…” Dimitri scoffed, though Wolfie’s words held weight on his chest. “Tell me, Wolfram… What should I do, then? They all died because of me. They died in my place; I was the one who was supposed to be there, haunting them. And yet, the one left alive was me, to carry on their burdens; their wishes.”

Wolfie sneaked his hands into Dimitri’s, bringing them to his own chest. The beating of his heart contrasted with the heavy rain, but that was somehow soothing to Dimitri.

“You suffered enough, Dimitri. I think… I think you could forgive yourself a little. Maybe try to do something you want to do instead of what they tell you. After all, it’s your life.” Wolfie smiled, unable to tell if the water dripping from his face was from the rain or from his tears.

Dimitri slowly placed his head on Wolfie’s shoulder, warm tears falling from his nose. “As the survivor of that day, am I… Am I allowed to live for myself?”

Instead of replying, Wolfie wrapped his arms around Dimitri’s head, squeezing him into a the hug he had been wanting to give ever since they met again.

Despite both of them being drenched in that rain, the warmth of their bodies… the warmth that was characteristic of the living… it was still there.

“Your arms are so warm… have they always been?” Dimitri sobbed into Wolfie’s shoulder, hugging him back with the urge of a lost child who had finally found their purpose. Closing his eyes, Wolfie did everything he could to be there for Dimitri, even if that meant sharing what little warmth he could in that rain.

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fatesona #dimitri fire emblem #fodlansona #my writings #yuki's commissions

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crazyclownthanos · 3 years

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The 12 original dragons

Explaination on their heritage, their involvement in the XII bellum, breaking down each character and there purpose.

The Dragons origin

Dragons have been living since the beginning of time. Bringing good luck, offering protection, creating landscapes of eternal beauty. The home of the dragons was in another realm referred to as Nidhogg. A beautiful and enchanting land where the grass dances in the sun and the lake glows like pearls, tall and mighty wooden houses spread across the land, where everyone calls each other family ruled by the royal family.

Forms of Dragons

The citizens of Nidhogg were to have at least 2 forms max.

Jormungandr form. This form allows to have an apperance of a human but have dragon like features for example a tail sticking out or wings pointing

Dragon form. In full dragon, ordinary dragons with magic abilities based on their type of dragon

Who are the 12 original Dragons

The 12 Dragons of Nidhogg represted 12 elements that were told to create life. These dragons were immortal compared to a normal dragon lifespan being 6000 years. The royal family held authority over the 12 dragons, reasoning of how these dragons got given these titles is a ritual is called the dragon blood ritual, where a baby bathes in each blood of the five dragon kings, allegedly if the baby Grows it wings, develop its horns and flourish their tails the five dragon kings have successfully blessed the baby with their treasures.

Faffnir’s circle

Right outside the royal palace laid a circle of most importance, the circle had 5 layers decreasing on size. On the 5th/outer level had Latin words speaking peace. The 4th/2nd largest circle projecting Coptic language of generosity. The 3rd/middle layer showed the language of Sumerian projecting words of governance. The 2nd/second smallest circle displayed words from the Akkadian language of conquest. The smallest circle demonstrate words of the Sanskrit language of balance. The circle did not just carry fancy writing of ruined empires but held something that no mage could offer that was universal seeking. Faffnir’s circle was used to see other universes from their view from places of stone cold planets or worlds of shining emeralds.

History

The royal family proposed an idea of utilising Faffnir’s circle to its full extent of opening the circle big enough for the 12 original dragons to fly through and bless a planet as an experiment to their kind. This experiment came at a cost to open the circle they will need a sacrifice. The citizens of Nidhogg were wary of the experiments success refusing to volunteer. One dragon raised their hand, the kings daughter understanding what this experiment could bring to their land she took it upon herself to be that sacrifice. The princess walked along ripping her dress in a graceful manner throwing her crown into the deepest water the kingdom of Nidhogg witnessed history. As much as the king didn’t want to approve of this he did eventually gave in and had never felt more proud as a father. All the 12 original dragons stood on the fifth circle having a space for one of each meanwhile the princess stood in the middle on the smallest circle. The circle started to move like a ticking clock any form of symbols in Nidhogg started to illuminate, the five dragon kings blood poured faster than before. The experiment resulted as a success, the 12 original dragons made it to a bleak world where the circle of Nidhogg lies, sadly the princess had died fulfilling her purpose to the kingdom the dragons do not grieve but promise themselves and each other that the princess death would not go in vein and a bless a planet. Using there elemental gifts the 12 dragons shaped a world of misty meadows, blue skies, snowy mountains, animals to wander, deep waters of reflection, grassy hills and many others. The dragons would stay loyal and protect this world forever however the XII bellum provoked the dragons into becoming an opponent to the devils who wanted the worlds existence to be removed. the XII bellum came to an ending point when the spirits and the Midgard nomads get involved, their power was that overwhelming it sent the devils back to the underworld and the dragons forced to leave their physical dragon bodies in their elemental field though their souls had to wander searching for souls to entwine with for the day they return to Nidhogg.

Dragon Vessels

A dragon vessel is when a human soul and a dragon soul are entwine with each other. This process happens when a dragon soul finds a human who haven’t manifested an attribute yet meaning the dragon grants the human power to use their magic attribute, turn into a dragon and sometimes appear with dragon like features however these do come at a cost to maintain powers like these you will be reacquired to have a stable magic control, endless amount of training and connect with the dragon producer. Soul separation happens at the age of 6 this will be the year dragon vessels will eventually learn of the power and most importantly the person dwelling within them gaining this new ability the producer or vessel can soul separate however they like but they have limit on how long it goes for, the affects of soul separation are the vessel cannot do magic however the producer can use magic but cannot transform into a dragon. Due to their physical bodies being hidden away dragon producers do not appear having dragon like features appearing to look human. Dragons do use grimoire’s but instead of having a clover or spade at the front instead its a dragon symbolising the strong connection and a color scheme matching the dragons elemental purpose.

Each original Dragon

Ondaerrass

Burden dragon

Dragon vessel: Dove Holmes

Satus: alive (soul entwine)

Species: dragon

Gender: male

Affinity: burden magic

Age: 41 (human years)

Birthday: March 9th

Constellation: Pisces

Height: 197cm (human form), 23ft or 701cm (dragon form)

Eyes: purple

Hair: red

Likes: Jumping off buildings, baths

Appearance

Dragon form: Ondaerrass color scheme’s are black and dark purple. He possess illuminating narrow purple eyes whenever he opens his mouth illuminating purple smoke comes out. Two long horns sprouting out either side of his head. Ondaerrass has black scales all over his dragon body, some scales tend to be bigger and stick out. Protruding wings on the outer side it’s black and on the inner side it’s dark purple side the shape of the wings appear to have the look of ripped curtains very unsymmetrical. A long black tail with spikes pointing out at the end. Details to be pointed out are the smaller horns standing out, above his eye, on his nose, mouth and jaw.

Human form: Ondaerrass has a masculine body, dark skin, a tattoo of a serpent on the left side of his face, a griffin on the middle of his neck, tattoo of a wendigo on his right upper limb, mermaid on his nape, unicorn the left side of his lower back, centaur on the ride of side of his waist, a dragon showing on his abs,sphinx on the right thigh, werewolf on the back of the left knee, chimera on his left ankle, all purple. Narrow lilac eyes, long yet spiky red hair half up in a man bun with a few twigs sticking out. Ondaerrass hates wearing clothing pefers to let it all out though he gets force to wear a purple toned star pattern shoulder cape with a golden piece on the shoulder on the buttom he wears white stained dhoti pants and no shoes.

Personality

Ondaerrass has a chilled personality dosen’t take everything too seriously he tends to cracks up a joke or two in a meeting or tease one of the other dragons, being a big fellow he likes using his height to intimate others before showing off his signature laugh “Bojobojobojobojobojo” . In times of seriousness Ondaerrass does get more quiet and listens more, “shut up and listen to your gut” he would say to anyone making a hard decision.

Battle powers

Burden Magic: This magic attribute allows the user to use his magic as a way of misfortune taking the life out of any environment or creature

Dragon magic: Ondaerrass can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

Rhaegal

Lava Dragon

Dragon Vessel: Rekka Marron

Status: Alive (soul entwine)

Species: Dragon

Gender: Male

Affinity: Lava magic

Age: 15 but appears to be 40 (human years)

Birthday: April 1st

Constellation: Aries

Height: 203cm (human form), 40ft or 1219cm (dragon form)

Eyes: Ember

Hair: Navy Blue

Likes: Chicken, Booze, nap time

Apperance

Dragon Form: The color scheme for Rhaegal protrays illuminating lava oozing through the brown surface. Wide eyes of hot orange and red illuminating no pupil called for as well as a tongue of steaming hot lava. Horns three sets of horn from smallest the biggest sticking out. Similar to the body of the dragon the wings also share the same flowing lava oozing out of the cracked brown skin. The tail is short and stumpy a brown tail. The snout has rocky features chipped sometimes when falling small specks of rock could fall down. Out of all the 12 dragons Rhaegal is the biggest meaning the more tired you will become after transforming into a dragon

Human form: Rhaegal shares the same body type as Ondaerrass of both being super masculine. He has fare skin usually can be seen wearing one earring pierced and have light pink scares from battle his most recognizable is the scar going vertically down his left eye and another scar horizontally across his face with a few navy blue beard hairs to add. Rhaegal possess ember eyes. His hair navy blue hair is uasually styled slick back with one piece sticking at the front. Clothes wise Rhaegal wears a medieval base open jacket with the collars standing straight, on the collar dark blue designs could been seen then a soft light blue covering the rest of the jacket (usually the sleeves are rolled up) on the bottom are light olive green baggy pants rolled up, for shoes it’s black boots.

Personality

Rhaegal values are drinking and sleeping he is quickly to get into other peoples face if he thinks of them as an opponent pulling a so called “scary face”. Rhaegal does have a heart of goal looking out for everyone in the Nidhogg kingdom and soon his own devil vessel often taking the time of babysitting him while the parents are off performing magic knight duties. Rhaegal isn’t short tempered and has shown be very paitent. In battle Rhaegal can break anything that stands in his way and once he has made up his mind on something he stays on that.

Battle powers

Lava magic: This attribute allows Rhaegal to create and manipulate lava. Rhaegal has shown impressive skills of manipulation even manipulating the mantle of the earth.

Dragon Magic: Rhaegal can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

Ju-Long

Bliss Dragon

Dragon Vessel: unknown

Status: Alive (soul entwine)

Species: Dragon

Gender: Male

Affinity: Bliss Magic

Age: unconfirmed

Birthday: September 23rd

Constellation: Libra

Height: 167cm (human form), 15ft or 457cm (dragon form)

Eyes: Blue

Hair: White

Likes: Being on time, Strong cappuccino

Apperance

Dragon form: Ju-Long has the dragon form of any common dragon. His color scheme is shiny white with tints of grey. The color of his eyes are glowing blue that shines of diamonds along with blue mouthsmoke having the scent of pureness. One set of curved horns pointing upward moreover sets of horns in perfect form in sets of two scaling down the dragons spine. The scales have a look of a shiny white and at the end you can notice tints of grey. Ju-Long has a common dragon wings but not only one he carry’s 3 sets of wings on either side though from an angel you can see his wings be a little too big for his body. The white dragon posses multiple tails of atleast 6 tails all of them have horns sprouting out average size. Details can includes the goats beard dripping down his chin.

Human form: Ju-Long has a thin body type, light skin and has piercing blue eyes together with white hair that covers his forehead and sides of the hair shorter then the rest resting on his shoulder the rest of his hair is quite long and keeps a loose tie at the bottom. For the types of clothing he wears Ju-Long likes wearing ancient traditional clothing his favorite appears to be a traditional ancient Chinese kawaler robe colors consisting of bright red and gold yellow.

Personality

Ju-Long is a cautious individual who’s quick to scream in every situation leading to have little self control and always aiming to be a perfectionist. His main propriety are schedules and following the rules if he dosen’t achieve this he is quick to panic and end up in a emotional state. Whenever crowds ask him for battle strategies he dosen’t give a battle strategy instead an emotional talk of never giving up only making the other original dragons to sigh. Ju-Longs signature move the “tail whip” dosen’t necessarily work but it’s enough for Ju-Long to give himself a pat on the back.

Battle powers

Bliss Magic: This magic affinity grants the user to confuse their opponent into thinking their walking into a dream of eternal bliss but in reality it’s form of hypnotizing paralyzing the opponent

Dragon Magic: Ju-Long can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

Alizeh

Sky Dragon

Dragon Vessel: unknown

Status: Alive (soul entwine)

Species: Dragon

Gender: Female

Age: unconfirmed

Birthday: June 3rd

Constellation: Gemini

Height: 175cm (human form), 20ft or 607cm (dragon form)

Eyes: Grey

Hair: light Pink with black chunky highlights

Likes: Winning, Yogurt

Apperance

Dragon form: Alizeh’s color schemes are are a mix of blue, green and white. For its eyes it carry’s green and mouthsmoke of white clouds. The sky dragon dosen’t have any legs for it has been told that dragon forever remains soaring in the sky. Unlike the other dragons who have rough snouts the sky dragon has a smooth snout along with thick single horns starting from the top of the head to the start of the tail. The scales aren’t normal dragon scales actually they are feathers of toned blue into green. The sky dragon possess angle wings to contribute of flying at a faster speed. The tail is pretty standard having fluff starting at the tail and ending at the point of the tail on both sides so not covering the entire tail.

Human form: Alizeh has an hour glass body type, tanned skin. Eye color wise she possess grey eyes however she covers her eyes with Golden silk cloth. Alizeh’s carry’s light pink hair with black chunky hair lights usually let out with no hair clip or hair ties. Clothing choices she wears a female warrior gladdiator outfit, Pieces of gold wrappped around her chest, elbows, wrist and a belt of gold dripping down not too low aside from all the gold she rocks a sleeve less top brown leather with some lace included for the skirt it’s upper thigh length brown leather skirt separated, shoes she wears female gladdiator sandlas length ending at her knees. A noticeable feature on Alizeh is that she’s always wearing a animal skull large enough to fit her head as a helmet

Personality

Alizeh assumes everything is a race to her, examples like who can clean the fastest or who can get to the door first. Quick to get competive and hates wasting time resulting her to be unimpaitent and unprepared not often caring about small details. Nobody knows why she wears the silk cloth over her eyes however Alizeh has stated that her eyes have magic of its own.

Battle powers

Sky Magic: This sky attribute allows the user to partly manipulate the sky and air creating natural disasters like typhoons and not to forget control clouds

Cloud Creation: This ability does not require any form of water simply creating clouds

Dragon Magic: Alizeh can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

Nereus

Water Dragon

Dragon Vessel: Nereida Silva

Status: Alive (Soul Entwine)

Species: Dragon

Gender: Male

Affinity: Water

Age: 15 but appears to look 30 (human years)

Birthday: August 15th

Constellation: Leo

Height: 180cm (human form), 24ft or 731cm (Dragon Form)

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Purple

Likes: Songs, Creating tools and landscapes or eternal beauty

Apperance:

Dragon form: The color scheme for the sea dragon are solid colors of blue, all types of blue. The head of the dragon is rather sharp a pointy nose and two small horns sprouting from the chin and two horns at the top, his eyes are a piercing pastel green olive shape as well as a mouth of sharp teeth the shines white also water sprayed out whenever it pleases. Fish like scales on both sides of the head and the top, smooth scales all over the body and right on the spines are enchanting water that flows on the top. Similar to the sky dragon the water dragon dose not possess legs. As for the wings they are a normal pair of wings good for thrusting in water quicker, they have a unique design to a turquoise color toned down to a dark blue of bubble designs and water whirls. Small details include dribbles of water popping out every now and then

Human form: Nereus is considered to be a decently masculine, long legs and pretty big biceps. Light skin and on his right arm you can see a patch of fish scales, Nereus has blue eyes nothing new and long purple hair usually tied up on a high ponytail with two strands as bangs. Clothing of choice Nereus wears a iron chest plate tightly fitted around his abs and chest attached to his chest plate right below his right hips and held onto by his leg is a sachel filled with tools and on the left side hanging is his hammer on the bottom he wears high waisted black pants with a few side pockets shoe wise he’ll be wearing brown boots.

Personality

Referred to as the sea god Nereus is one of the most popular original dragons having good social skills and is quite skilled on tool making and architecture known for his love of songs people made tales about him singing to restore the oceans calm. Nereus is very friendly and unless you offend you won’t be expecting an hammer to the face anytime soon.

Battle powers

Water magic: This attribute allow the user to manipulate and create vast amount of water

Sea domain: Reponsible for creating the oceans Nereus has taken upon himself of creating worlds of sea temples and unique people.

Dragon Magic: Nereus can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

Srebrenka

Metal Dragon

Dragon vessel: Unknown

Status: Alive (soul entwine)

Species: Dragon

Gender: Female

Affinity: Metal magic

Age: unconfirmed

Birthday: November 5th

Constellation: Scorpio

Height: 179cm (human form), 26ft or 792cm (dragon form)

Eyes: Yellow

Hair: Black

Likes: Foreplay, Artifacts

Apperance

Dragon form: The Metal dragon have color schemes of shiny bright iron mostly because of the armor the Metal dragon wears because of how harmful the magic can be. The eyes are bright and large red eyes with grey mouthsmoke whenever the mouth opens specs of metal fall out. The Metal armour covers the head, chest and stomach to tell the difference between the scales and the armor is the touch, the arm stores heat and it’s used as a weapon to melt metals and use it as a weapon. Srebrenka’s horns on the top of her head are extremely pointy, the scales have a sharp texture even continuing onto the tail less then average size and has scales pointing upward. The wings are normal size though some area of the wings are so sharp they can pierce through the toughest of surfaces. Small details include the black teeth

Human form: Srebrenka has an hour glass body type, fare skin and an hour glass tattoo on the middle of her stomach along with pink glossy lips. Beautiful yellow eyes you can see mountains away to go with it big eye lashes. Long black hair tied up on low pig tails connecting the two pig tails by a hair tie at the end. Srebrenka usually wears a black coverage only sealing her nipples and a little of the side of the boob hanged on the buttom is a fluff belt attached to a belt hanging on the right side, for shoes she’s seen in black velvet upper thigh heels.

Personality

Srebrenka lives on attention, consentantly needing the pleasure of all men leading to the infamous nickname of the “alkali playboy”. Not afraid to show off her body and usually using it has her biggest weapon no one really knows how she got blessed with the blood of the five dragon kings. On the battlefield she’s known to have her strengths of studying her opponents and finding there weak spots from experience.

Battle powers

Metal magic: This magic attribute grants the holder to manipulate and create metal of every type and choose the boiling point

Compound magic: Using compound magic Srebrenka can use it to mix two metals resulting into creating a stronger met

Dragon magic: Srebrenka can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

Bryony

Nature Dragon

Dragon Vessel: Unknown

Status: Alive (soul entwine)

Species: Dragon

Gender: Female

Affinity: Nature

Age: unconfirmed

Birthday: February 10th

Constellation: Aquarius

Height: 170cm (human form), 30ft or 914cm (dragon form)

Eyes: Green

Hair: Pink

Apperance

Dragon form: The Nature dragons color scheme are mostly green but there other colors including brown, pink and blue. It contains illuminating pink eyes like sakura’s and coming out of the mouth are birds flying out. The dragon has brown antler horns representing branches poking out. It dosen’t not wield scales instead the nature dragon significantly has a image of a forest imprinted on her body, on the body the inferior color is green representing the grass you can also see a somewhat a river curving her body, pink flowers on the ground. The dragon wings are curved having the same foresty look imprinted on. The tail is long and thin there is a noticeable green toned brown near the end of the tail. Small details include sharp wooden looking scales on the each of the 4 legs.

Human form: Bryony occupied a triangle body type with noticeable freckles all over her entire body. She owns wide green eyes that look like green apples and a hair color of a light shade of pink knee length always down parted in the middle topped with a flower of flowers from all over the world. Her clothing of choice is inspired by victorian fashion of a white long sleeve ruffle blouse and a high waisted skirt with two sets of buttons at the top to knee length a pattern consisting of flowers and twigs or she could be wandering the place in corset.

Personality

Bryony is said to be a kind sweetheart who offers help to anyone In need however she has days of when she’s off in her own world often spotted crawling around or getting afraid of her own shadow, she has shown high survival skills making last minute decisions on the spot, fighting against someone she uses her magic to trap their competitor before moving onto the next. Off the battlefield Bryony has shown an interest of doing new thing that won’t cost her life one of them are definitely baking and gardening often doing it while crawling.

Battle powers

Nature Magic: Allowing the user to manipulate and create new environment such as vines, trees, plants and flowers and use it as her main weapon to destroy her enemies being the mother of all environment related attribute being known be as the “Mother Nature”

Dragon Magic: Bryony can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

Dagda

Earth Dragon

Dragon Vessel: unknown

Status: Alive (soul entwine)

Species: Dragon

Gender: Male

Affinity: Earth

Age: unconfirmed

Birthday: July 22nd

Constellation: Cancer

Height: 173cm (human form), 28ft or 853cm (dragon form)

Eyes: Red

Hair: dirty Blonde

Likes: Gambaling, blackmailing and shiny objects

Apperance

Dragon Form: Earth dragon has a color scheme of well the color of brown. The earth dragon is one of the many few dragons who share the same eye color as them both containing narrow intimidating red eyes but the left eye remains shut , mouthsmoke can be dust. There are horns scatted all over the earth dragon sharp and tall all different sizes making them one of the thickest dragons of the 12, some of the taller horns have white tips looking like mountains. Earth dragon dose not have scales but a rough surface like rocks people mention. The wings and tail share the same idea as the spine, rough and hard altogether with stubby legend of toe nails of grey stone. When flying the dragon can fly out dust to blind fly enemies from behind or taking a dump.

Human form: Dagda has a rhomboid figure, fare skin. Dagda wears a traditional Japanese clothing called the kataginu-hakama clothes for warriors, the solid color are the front is red though the white sleeves have been appeared to be ripped off, wearing straw sandals and carrying a fan ticking on the top of his belt

Personality

Dagda is a devious character has been appeared to get ahead of thinking and making silly mistakes like dropping plates on the floor. Dagda has known to be a master of blackmailing and for sure in gambling of blackmailing his rival some people call him a cheater but has his ways of good acting and getting away with those type of situations. On the battlefield Dagda likes underestimating his opponents leading into making them believe they gained victorious before getting brutally crushed, well known for his good team strategies.

Battle powers

Earth magic: This type of magic affinity allows the creator to create molds of earth and manipulate it to their advangtage with any mineral of earth or dosen’t matter. It can be manipulated

Dragon Magic: Dagda can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

Lumina

Light Dragon

Dragon Vessel: Unknown

Status: Alive (soul entwine)

Species: Dragon

Gender: Male

Affinity: Light

Age: uncomfirmed

Birthday: January 20th

Constellation: Capricorn

Height: 150cm (human form), 18ft or 548cm (dragon Form)

Eyes: Light Grey

Hair: Blonde

Likes: Red velvet cake, tearing peoples ego

Apperance

Dragon form: Color schemes consist of illuminating yellow and white, the light dragon is the only dragon to be glowing. The head of the dragon has husks coming both ways out of the mouth, eye color is a glowing black and whenever opening it mouth a ray of shine is seen. Back to the husks out of the mouth there is a candle with even wax on the tip to complete it the look, horns are in a strange pattern some small some bigwith the same troop of candle waxing, scales on the other hand are pretty confusing having some point the flip side and some on the normal side. The wings have a bat form nothing special. The tail is pretty standard keeping the same line of weirdly shaped horns. A detail on the light dragon is red scar located on the stomach.

Human form: Lumina has a small stature and very little muscle despite training for so long. Skin details includes a red scar located on his stomach. His light grey eyes are sorta confusing making other think he only have small black eyes. Lumina’s blonde hair is in a style of a bowl cut topped with a golden black stripped hat with a Lilly spider flower as a decoration. Matching the top hat is a shimmering golden suit and black stripes underneath his coat appears to be white collar and a black tie, spotless black shoes despite having short legs he sits on a cloud controlling the cloud wherever he goes.

Personality

With his short height many believe Lumina as a harmless and innocent child when in reality he’s an aggressive boy. As the saying goes don’t judge a book by its cover. Lumina is known for picking fights with anyone and having a somewhat sociopath personality. Quick of making death threats giving the impression of a devil floating in this child. Inside Lumina cannot stand on his own and thinks of the other dragons as brothers and sisters often seeking comfort and warmth from them. On the battlefield he is maniac roaring in your face and going for brutual physical attacks over magic attacks.

Battle powers

Light Magic: Lumina can manipulate and create light in whatever area. Sometimes he can create spheres of light in unconscious hours the more spheres of light he’s having a dream less more likely he’s having a nightmare

Dragon Magic: Lumina can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

Hestia

Fire Dragon

Dragon Vessel: unknown

Status: Alive (soul entwine)

Species: Dragon

Gender: Female

Affinity: Fire magic

Age: unconfirmed

Birthday: May 18th

Constellation: Taurus

Height: 187cm (human form), 26ft or 792cm (dragon form)

Eyes: Green

Hair: Orange

Like: Plumerias, hearing other people laugh or smile because of her cooking

Apperance

Dragon form: The fire dragon possess colors of red, orange and black. The head was big and looked standarded, eyes glow emerald green and whenever it opens it mouth fire comes prevailing paired with a tongue of ash. The red bumpy yet curved horns grew all over the dragons spine, tail and stomach, scales of different shades of red are view signifying the reflection of flames. The shape of the tail is long and at the very tip it was on fire. The wings are the most recognizable feature looking like they’ve been on fire the flames glowed of reds and oranges lighting up the dim sky. Small details include the red bushy eyebrows

Human Form: Hestia is a masculine woman and is tall compared to an average height of a woman, a dark women how wears her orange hair in cornrows. Skin details include the red multiple swirls covering both of her arms as well as a on her chest and on her back. Her emerald green eyes are quite big. Hestia has shown been seen in a Fijian tapa dress length below her knees and above her ankles with a straw sandals and she likes wearing a white plumeria flower behind her right ear.

Personality

Hestia is an awkard girl who finds social interaction as a pain and dosen’t understand the system of getting to know them and understand leading to her first meetings get awkard. The first time she met the original dragons Hestia would find it embarrassing to talk about anything with them soon she realized these dargon folk didn’t care how you acted as long as you have pure intentions. Some situations she would try and do something nice but would end up in flame literal flames. On the battle of war Hestia knows her surroundings well and picks up very fast, she isn’t scared of getting dirty or bloodied looks we’re not important it matters that you contributed.

Battle powers

Fire Magic: This attribute allows the user to create and manipulate fire whenever it blue or Orange it still has an affect. In dragon form Hestia’s wings would shine of blue flame

Dragon Magic: Hestia can transform into a dragon or appear to have a dragon like features (before XII bellum)

#White Clover #The 12 original dragons #dragon #joe biden #part 1

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gingermintpepper · 4 years

Text

Doubt [1/20]

Rating: General Characters: Drole, Gloxinia Summary: In which Drole contemplates his decision to join Stigma. Ginger’s Commentary: I promise all of these aren’t this long.

The night air is thick, oppressive even as the endless fields stretched beneath it portray an illusion of serenity. The forest is still behind him, the fae locked in uneasy restfulness, their unconscious minds unable to fully hide their doubts in their king's ability to protect them from the war burning the earth to ash just beyond their borders.

Drole wonders, not for the first time, if he's made a mistake dragging Gloxinia into this battle.

His steps are quiet as he wanders into the vast meadow, moonlight spilling over satiny petals like cursed mercury. He'd only just managed to convince Meliodas to rest, even if for a moment. Now all that was left was the other restless monarch, the king who was far more aggressive hummingbird than delicate butterfly.

"It's a beautiful night."

Violet becomes dusky blue beneath the weight of the darkness surrounding them, yet even in this deep black, Gloxinia's scarlet hair maintains its eternal luster. A part of Drole is struck by how akin to a funeral procession the view before him is - the immortal glow of the king of fae surrounded by blushing flowers ripe for the picking, red hair the mar of blood flowing freely from the uncleanable wound.

He's careful not to crush the foliage as he walks, a private smile illuminating his face for but a moment, "Yes, it is."

Gloxinia spreads his wings, wordlessly relocates to Drole's shoulder as the titan settles himself. There's no need for words between them at this hour, nothing that can be said to change the decisions they'd made while drunk on sunlight and adrenaline. Still, Drole cannot suppress the guilt he feels, the twinge of regret sitting high on his breast as he replays the events in his mind.

Fairies, he remembers Gloxinia once telling him, have no business in secular wars.

It was a fair stance to take. The fairies were not like any of the other races. They bore no will to procreate, had no instinct which drove them to survive. No greed with which to make them consider expanding their kingdom. Their lifespans stretched far into the millenia and with time came distance. Gloxinia was an old creature, older than so many of the systems and kingdoms of the world. Older than the generals of both sides of this war. To him, every conflict must've seemed the squabble of overactive children. His only duty was to the Sacred Tree and to his people. So long as he stood, it mattered not if the demons and goddesses and everyone in between burned the world to nothing. His duty would be fulfilled.

And Drole had convinced him to risk it all to fight in some petty, fleeting war.

"Stop that."

His tongue is clumsy from unspoken doubt but he manages a sound of confusion.

Gloxinia's tiny fingers prod at the spaces between his vast eyebrows, languid motions befitting the childish curl to his words, "I can hear you thinking from over here." A soft giggle, and though Gloxinia weighs nothing, Drole can feel him rolling onto his back atop his head, focuses as strands of unbroken red begin to drip into his face, "You're worrying over nothing. I already made my decision."

He raises his hand, extending a finger so Gloxinia can sit on the digit. He feels more at ease when he can see who he's talking to, finds peace in the eye contact, in making sense out of the tangled up signals of Gloxinia's ever enigmatic body language.

"I've not said anything," Drole murmurs, entranced with the way the fae king folds his wings and perches himself on the brunt of the back of his palm. He'd hated sitting there initially, resolute in his decision to stand with his own two wings if he had to speak to Drole man to man. Time had eased his pride.

Gloxinia's nose scrunches cutely and he averts his gaze. Quite suddenly, Drole is reminded that the fairy before him can read hearts.

"You're not exactly doing yourself any favours here, Drole."

Embarrassment is a sensation one must become acclimatized to quickly in the presence of the fairy king. It was one of the first lessons Drole had learned as his companion, but even the best students faltered in their mastery of certain teachings. Airy laughter trickles forth from gentle lips and under the moonlight, shaking shoulders glow with marble's perfect sheen. Gloxinia is beautiful and already, the laugh that had been so absent in recent days had returned from its abrupt journey.

Somehow, he manages to compose himself. Tilts his great head so he can focus on the multitude of stars wishing him peace from the vastness of sky, "I'm sorry."

He hears a put-upon sigh, the sort that accompanies a helpless quirk of the lips and a softening of piercing eyes. Gloxinia flies silently, again, perching his body on the broad slope of Drole's shoulder. When he speaks, the titan can hear the age in his words, feels the fine hairs on his flesh prick up from the power of the utterings alone. "Nothing that's worth protecting isn't also worth fighting for, Drole."

And he understands what Gloxinia is trying to do, but he cannot help the tempest of his thoughts, "You don't have to fight."

The fairy laughs at that and though the sound is genuine, there is an edge of desperation to it, a harshness that makes Drole think that perhaps, he's missing something, "I'm not stupid. Those Goddesses," and he pauses, chooses his words carefully like he fears Nerobasta will descend upon him for his unfavourable thoughts, "they're determined to have the Forest for themselves. It was only a matter of time before they turned their attention to us to fulfil their needs."

That, Drole could sympathise with.

The Demons had been causing mass hysteria in their valleys and plains, terraforming the land during their hunts, draining their resources, murdering Giant and Human alike in their bid for more ground to use against the Goddesses. Drole had the most elite of his warriors join him in a bid to retake their mountain and the surrounding lands.

He had been the only one to return home.

Since then, his Titans had been scattered and broken, seeking shelter in mountains and forests while their king tried to put together a plan that would see them victorious over this new and most formidable of adversaries. Except Drole had no idea what he was doing, had no clue whether or not he had made the right decision joining this conflict. In that respect, Gloxinia was the better of them; a ruler who had carefully weighed his choices and sided with the lesser of the evils to preserve as much as he could. Drole had simply been backed into a corner.

He frowns, the delicate expression out of place on his usually stony countenance, “Do you think we picked the right side?”

Gloxinia’s tiny elbow digs into the side of his jaw, a snicker falling from bitter lips, “It’s war Drole, there is no such thing as the right side.” The whimsy in his voice fades to sobriety, sharp edges of elbow against bone soothing as the frail touch of Gloxinia’s palm rests upon Drole’s face, “We just need to make sure that we’re on the winning side.”

#long post #Jesus Christ #ginger writes #seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #nnt #drole the patience #drole nnt #gloxinia #gloxinia the repose #gloxinia nnt #writing #Hopefully I stop feeling embarrassed about posting writing directly to tumblr lmao #There's 19 more of these fuckers #drolxinia

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ssa25 · 4 years

Text

Mythological AU - Sasuhina Month 2020 - Day 17

@sasuhinamonth

Rating: Mature

Based on the story of ‘Perseus and Andromeda’.

His body moved relentlessly over the keening and writhing warm body. His eyes were closed, his jaws clenched, and his mind created visions of half lidded moon eyes, swollen parted lips and inky blue hair sprawled over his sheets. He imagined it was her soft voice that was moaning for him. And soon, like every other time since he had met her, he came groaning loud into the neck of his bedmate.

The red haired woman was panting under him, having reached her peak at the same time as him. She knew the usual custom for their shared nights, and sat up as soon as Sasuke collapsed onto his back.

As the woman picked up her clothes, the celebrated demigod was in a reflective trance like always. But it was soon broken when his door was banged urgently.

“Who could that be?”, Karin asked him, but he just moved to the door without bothering to answer her or donning his black tunic.

Unabashed, he opened the door to see familiar eyes stare back at him. Almost similar to the ones he had been imagining moments before. But they were not hers.

“Prince Neji… What brings you to my door in this humble city?”, he asked with mild incredulity. The young prince seemed distressed and even the hero’s nakedness did not bother him.

“Sasuke…. I have come to beg you to return back to the kingdom…”, Neji said in a rushed manner.

“I’m afraid that is impossible…”, Sasuke replied gravely. “ Need I remind you that it was you and your king, who banished me from your soil…”

Prince Neji seemed repentant as he shook his head, “We were easily susceptible to doubt and dread… That you might usurp our lands and the princess… It was our wariness that led us to do the unthinkable… But we realise our mistake... Please, you must accept my apology Sasuke and return right this moment.”

Before Sasuke could reply, he found Neji’s eyes wander behind his back. Karin, now fully dressed rushed out of the modest home, without glancing at the two men standing by the doorway.

“Have your sentiments towards Princess Hinata changed?”, the Prince asked the demigod with a hint of fear.

Sasuke simply folded his hands and glared at the man. Born as the son of a God and a mortal, he was blessed with supreme powers that made him nearly invincible in the mortal realm. He was one of the fiercest heroes that had graced mankind, and his heroic tales were spread far and wide. The only reason he had relented to King Hiashi’s demand for banishment, without lifting his sword to challenge his decree, was because he was quite enamoured with the peace-loving and beautiful Princess. And he refused to cause her any heartache by slaying the stubborn king or his warriors. The woman who was unaware of his emotions would never consider him as anything more than a monster if he did otherwise.

“It is strange you ask me such a question... When she is betrothed to you!”, he spat at him.

“She won’t be anymore.”, Neji replied with pain in his eyes. “Not when her life is hanging by a precarious thread…”

Sasuke was shocked to hear such words. He grabbed the Prince by his armour and asked him with barely tamed rage, “What do you mean??!!”

“Princess Hinata has been offered as a sacrifice…. For the queen’s words of praise for her beauty has earned us Poseidon’s wrath… The Oracle advised that sacrificing Hinata was the only option... And to save us all from utter ruin, Hinata insisted on offering herself... Chained to the devil’s creek, she will be ravaged by the sea monster within the next three days… I wish I could do something to put an end to this insanity… And while I would happily fight and lay my life for Princess Hinata, I fear that it might not be enough to save hers at all… Only the most blessed warrior with inhuman strength can defeat this fearsome opponent… You are our only hope Sasuke!! You are the only one who can slay this monster and save her from a horrific destiny…”

There were very few things in the world that could truly petrify him. And this predicament was exactly that. Gathering his wits, he stomped inside his house to dress himself up with the strongest armour. He grabbed his sword and swore to himself that he would either save the woman who held his heart or die trying.

A deafening screech woke up Hinata from her state of unconsciousness. Her arms were sore from being lifted up and bearing the weight of her body since the last two days. Her body was cold and shivering with an intense ache on her left side, as she had suffered a painful lash of the sea monster. She has instantly collapsed into a state of senselessness because of the excruciating pain and horror.

She blinked her eyes open and saw a blurred dark figure brandishing a sword against the dreaded monster. The setting sun was in her eyes, so she could not realise the identity of her saviour. But she noticed that he was perched aloft on a flying creature. Was it a pegasus or a bird, she did not know.

She tried to say something to stop her saviour from meddling in this unfortunate event, but her throat was extremely parched to utter any coherent words. It was proving extremely difficult to maintain consciousness, as the loud clashes of the sword and terrifying screams of Poseidon’s behemoth echoed around her. After what seemed like an eternity, her drooping eyes caught a glimpse of the slain sea creature falling into the waves, and she allowed her body to drift off to numbness.

Sasuke flew over to the chained maiden, as soon as he defeated his toughest opponent. He alighted his trusted winged pet on the shore and rushed to the practically naked body of the Princess. Remnants of her muslin gown hung from her shoulders, as an angry red welt on her waist marred her alabaster skin.

Quickly, he unchained her and caught her cold body in his arms. It was evident that she was weak from being tied up for so long without any food and water. Without being able to help himself, he kissed her forehead in relief and swore to himself to protect this noble woman for the rest of his life. Her eyelashes fluttered for a bit, but she did not regain her senses. Without further delay, he carried her back to the palace.

“We will forever be in your debt, Sasuke!!”, King Hiashi announced in his court. There were loud cheers and applause for the latest heroic act of their returned hero. He had saved their beloved princess from the clutches of danger.

But the man of honour, could only glare back at the King. He did not want appreciation, gold or accolades. He wanted Princess Hinata to recover her health as quickly as possible.

“How can we ever repay you for your valiant deed? Nothing can measure up to your magnanimity!!”

“There is something that I wish for, King Hiashi!”, Sasuke declared loudly for everyone to hear. The whole court grew silent and waited with bated breaths to hear the demand of the hero.

King Hiashi straightened up in his throne and grew a little nervous at the determined expression of the demigod.

“Well, let’s hear it..”

“I need a wife. I want to have my own family.”

Murmurs erupted in the courtroom, but were hushed as soon as Hiashi raised his hand.

“Of course, you can have your pick of the loveliest of young maidens in our kingdom.”

Sasuke shook his head slowly. “There is only one woman I have in my mind.”

Hiashi sighed heavily, as he understood the implications of his words. It would be painful to give away his daughter when he had just got her back. Not to mention, he had promised his elder daughter’s hand to her cousin who was next in line for the throne. Hiashi looked over at Prince Neji who nodded his head in affirmation. It was only fair that Hinata married the man who had endangered his life in return for hers.

Hiashi accepted Neji’s decision and thought for a moment before he spoke up.

“Very well, Sasuke. You can have whoever you want, but I only ask for you to gain the maiden’s consent before you wed her.”

Sasuke smirked at the King, knowing he had won half the war. “I agree.”

It took Hinata twenty two days to recover completely, before Sasuke asked her for her hand in marriage. Realising that he was her saviour, she thanked him and gladly accepted his proposal.

The two were wedded soon after, and Sasuke whisked the Princess away from the Kingdom to his native city, where the two lived happily in their modest but loving home. Eventually, the couple were blessed with seven sons and two daughters.

#SasuHina #sasuhinamonth2020 #shmonth2020

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lauwrite1225 · 4 years

Text

Broken Crown || Finan x OC || Chapter 4.

Summary : Since the day he has been enslaved, Finan never thought that he would have to face his origins. But when an old friend made his arrival to Wessex, the Irishman his forced to deal with his past.

A/N : I messed up with the tag on the last two chapters, so you should check if you have read them :)

Other chapters

(Flashbacks are in italic.)

English isn’t my first language, if you see any mistakes, tell me :)

Warning : None.

04 || DEAL

Ailis was waiting inside King's Edward office. It's been ten minutes since the priest, who present himself as Father Pyrlig, led her here. He had knocked at the door of her room, telling her that the King would like to see her. She was surprised that he decided by himself to have a discussion with her. She didn't know what to expect from him.

She heard a lot about King Alfred, Edward’s father. She knew him as a strategic man and mostly ambitious with his dream of a united England. A dream which was still far from being real, Nothumbria remaining in part to the Danes.

She started to walk around the room. There was a huge table in the middle, full of maps and documents. Some of them had painting representing battles. Ailis lost herself in the beauty of the artwork, causing her to jump when the door opened. She turned back to face Edward. His expression was neutral. She couldn’t say if it was a good thing due to their discussion of the morning.

“Lord King.” She said as he walked to her. Without a word, he walked to the table and took one of the documents that intrigued Ailis. A soft smile appeared on his face, with some sort of nostalgia.

“This are pages of my Father’s Chronicles. He wanted peoples to know how England was born, event centuries after his death.”

“But he didn’t succeed.” She looked up to him, wondering what will be his reaction. But he did not seem upset. He just put down the paper delicately.

“He didn’t. But I intend to fulfill his wish.” He turned to Ailis and crossed his fingers together. “That’s why I can’t accept to fight the Danes with you. I need to keep peace in England, for a time.” The Lady gnashed, still astonished by this supposedly agreement between Wessex and the Danes. Even though, she kept her doubt for her this time and listen to Edward as he spoke again. “But, if we can’t be ally of war, we can be ally of peace.”

“And how will you do that?” She frowned. The King’s hands were now in his back as he walked toward a window.

“I can negotiate with the Danes, to maintain peace between you and them.” Ailis tried her best to not scoffed at his sentence.

“And why would they listen to you?” He turned to her, rising an eyebrow. “We are not a part of your Kingdom.”

“No, but we could be bounded.” He smirked lightly.

“A marriage?” She asked, after a moment to figure out what he could have in mind.

“Your King has many daughters, I am sure one would fit to my son.” His smile didn’t disappear. He was right, Dealla gave Conall four daughters and no living son. But the Queen was still in age to provide a healthy son to him. Rohan and Bran were both sturdy boys, why couldn’t she have others?

“And you assume that the Danes will leave our lands just because of a marriage?” Her tone was slowly gaining the disbelief one she had during the Witan.

“No, they won’t leave, that’s for sure. But they’ll stop the bloodshed.” He said, more serious.

“Our lands had never been theirs.” She snapped but Edward didn’t flinch.

“But you don’t have any other choices. Your army isn’t one anymore, the next time they’ll attack you, the whole Kingdom will be theirs.” Ailis bit her lips, he was well informed. She had hoped that maybe the news that their army was weak wouldn’t have come that far, but it was. “What I propose you, is your only solution.” He finally said, letting Ailis thoughtful.

“I need to think about it.” She needed to be sure that Conall will accept. And knowing him, if she returned with a proposition of peace who would disadvantage them instead of men with swords, she doubted her King will be pleased. But as Edward mentioned, did they have other choices?

“You have until tomorrow to give me your answer.”

…

As promised, Finan was waiting for Ailis on the palace’s stairs. Dawn was falling and the Irishman was waiting since half an hour now. Most of the day, he thought about her. She seemed to be the same person, but he could also feel that she wasn’t. For sure, she wasn’t the young girl he left in his old life. She was determined to fulfill her duty, like she had always been, but now she really knew what it meant. And just like him, her duty was heavier than what she thought as a child. However, she kept following it. In a way, it made her stronger than him.

Suddenly, Finan was taken from his thought by footstep behind him. Ailis was walking down the stairs. He stared at her, noticing she looked different from the morning. She had no warrior outfit anymore, only a blue dress assorting to her eyes and a cloak to protect her from the cold. Her hair was down and still humid due to the bath she surely had earlier. But even like that, her warrior soul remained. Her skin now clean, revealed a scar on her cheek and another one on her neck, so close to her jugular. The past years had been rough for her too.

He stood up as she smiled at him. “Sorry, I am late.”

“Don’t worry. Did you have your meeting with the King?”

“In fact, he asked for me.” She answered as she seemed more concerned.

“Really?” She nodded. “Did you find an arrangement?” She slowly ran a hand behind her neck.

“He proposed me a solution.” She sighed and shook her head. She looked up to him and her bright smile appeared once more on her face. “But that’s not what matter. Now, I want to know everything about you.” She said pointing a finger toward him.

“One night won’t be enough I think.” He laughed.

The two of them started to walk in Winchester, Finan leading her in the same alehouse than in the morning. This time, they took a table in the back of the room.

“So… Where do I start?” Finan demanded before taking a sip of ale. Ailis pinched her lips as she let a finger ran across the edge of her cup.

“Well… Maybe the beginning?” Finan did not need more explanation, her eyes where clear enough about what beginning she meant. He took a deep breath and straightened on his chair. He never liked to talk about these days and he always avoided the subject with other peoples. But Ailis wasn’t them.

“I spend three winters on the slave ship. Slaves usually don’t leave that long.” He tried his best to not meet Ailis’ eyes. He didn’t like the pity that it usually engendered to tell the story. “I met Uhtred after the second winter. We tried to escape once, but failed. His brother saved us the following spring.” He made the story shorter, avoiding the whip who bloodied his back more than once, the bare flesh in his palm by pulling the oars, the scars on his ankles due to the chains and the cold that petrified his muscles after dark. His whole body was the reminder of this three years of suffering.

“And then you decided to follow him?” He finally let himself meet her gaze. He almost jumped from his chair when he didn’t see the pity in Ailis’ eyes. There was just understanding. Finan slowly nodded as he drank a long gulp of ale.

“I had nowhere to go, after all.”

“He seems to be an incredible man. We heard of him even in Ulaid. But now, I know he isn’t alone when he achieves his exploits.” Finan laughed a little. Following Uhtred was probably the best decision he made in his life. Even if being a warrior wasn’t easy, he enjoyed it. He loved fighting and the feeling of being alive that it occurred.

“And hum… How are my sons ?” He asked, hesitant. He hadn’t mentioned since a long time and it was strange to say this word. He never considered himself as a good father and events didn’t bring him the chance to improve. But he still cared for them. They were his blood.

“They are well. They live in a monastery near Navan Fort. To be honest, Rohan spend more time outside than inside.” She lightly laughed. “Bran is more… Pious ?”

“Who sent them to a monastery?” Finan frowned.

“Well… It’s Conall. After being crowned, he married Dealla.” The Irishman raised an eyebrow, not knowing if she was serious. But as she pinched her lips, he understood she was telling the truth. “He feared for his throne so he sent them away. But Dealla can see them whenever she wants.”

“I thought your father supported him, it should be enough for him to keep his throne.”

“He did. But my father isn’t here anymore.” He kept his breath for a moment, seeing the sadness of Ailis. Her father was a great and powerful man. He didn’t have a lot of wealth or immense land, but his strategist’s talent in battle as much as in politics own him the respect of all the Lords. He has always been impressed by him.

“How?” He finally asked, his voice knotting.

“Illness. He had a bad wound during a battle and it infected.” She explained as she tried to hide the emotions in her tone. He knew she loved her father as much as he admired him. Finan wasn’t good with words when it came to comfort people and after being gone for years, he wasn’t sure of what to say. So, he simply rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. She softly smiled at the feeling of his touch. “I am alright now.” She breathed as he let go of her hand.

The two old friends remained silent for a moment, drinking their ale. But the moment did not last long when someone shouted Finan’s name. A wide smirk appeared on his face when two men approached their table.

“We were looking for you.” Spoke the older one as he wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulder. His accent was clearly Dane and the Thor’s hammer hanging at his neck, confirmed Ailis judgment. But he was slender than all the Danes she crossed the way. The younger one was as intriguing. She could swear that he was a monk with the typical robe he was wearing and his haircut, but there definitely was a sword tapping as his thigh as he walked. “We didn’t know you were in good company.” He noticed, turning to Ailis.

“This is Ailis.” Announced Finan. “An old friend of mine. Ailis, this Sihtric and Osferth, they are fighting for Uhtred too.”

“The two other bastards?” She smirked.

“Right.” Answered quickly, knowing the meaning of her question.

“A pleasure to meet you.” She announced as she turned to them. “Finan was going to tell me your adventures with your Lord.”

“There’s much to say, Lady.” Spoke the one called Osferth.

“Call me Ailis, please.” She tapped the place next to her and the two warriors take place at the table.

They started to talk about how each one met Uhtred and how many battles they have fought since then. As the ale flowed, the three men started to laugh at any anecdote. Ailis was captivated by their stories. But what warmed her heart the most was Finan cheerfulness. He always had the talent to make her smile or laugh and she truly missed that.

…

Ailis was in the corridor’s castle when she perceived Finan and Moira. It wasn’t the first time she caught them together. In fact, it was more and more common. She had seen them walking in the garden few days earlier. That day, she noticed the light in her friend’s eyes when he looked at her. He was smiling like she had never seen him before and she didn’t like that. It was no jealousy, far from it. But she was scared of what could bring their relationship. And right now, it was nothing good.

Not long after she saw them, Moira walked away from Finan. The young women bowed her head when she crossed Ailis, trying to hide the redness on her cheeks.

“Good morning Ailis.” She said, not even letting her the time to give her back the greetings. She watched her leave and then turned to Finan who was going to the opposite side. She started to run to catch him. When she arrived next to him, she grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.

“What were you doing?” He frowned at her, removing his arm from her grip.

“Discussing. That’s all.”

“Don’t lie to me.” She scoffed. He did not answer, continuing his way. Ailis clenched her jaw, not appreciating that he was ignoring her. But she needed to know. She needed to know what was going on between them. “You love her?” She declared.

Finan suddenly stopped. His fingers were nervously moving as the rest of his body was froze. He slowly turned to her, his expression telling her all she had to know. She couldn’t explain what she felt right now. It was a mixture of anger and fear.

“Finan, she’s your brother’s wife!” She almost shouted closing making a step toward him.

“And you think he loves her more than me?” He snapped. Ailis bit her lower lips. He was right on that fact, Conall was slowly getting uninterested by his wife. He was flirting with the maids and she wouldn’t be surprised he lied with some of them. But it couldn’t justify.

“Finan, you can’t do this. You have a wife. You have children.” She tried to resonate him, feeling the fear of what will happen if it went further. But Finan couldn’t hear what she said. He shook his head and plunged his eyes into hers.

“All of this is my father’s doing. I never asked for any of this.” Ailis’ mouth opened for a moment, shook by his words. How could he say that? Indeed, he never wanted to marry Dealla, but yet she was good to him. She even gave him another son few weeks ago. Wasn’t that more important?

“Can you hear yourself? This is a dangerous game Finan. For both of you.” She warned him, still not leaving his eyes.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a child.” He grumbled.

“But you behave like one!” She shouted, raising her hands in the air. They remained for a moment, staring in each other gaze to see which one will speak first. Ailis lost this battle. She sighed, looking up to the ceiling. “You have a duty Finan.” She said, her voice stern.

“My duty can go to hell.” On these words, he walked past Ailis, letting her alone in the corridor.

The young red hair clenched her jaw once more, knowing that the situation could only get worse.

A/N: OMG I am so proud of this one because he’s the longer chapter I’ve written so far ahah. I had a hard time to figure out what deal could have Ailis and Edward, one that would fit with the rest of the story. So it’s probably not really historically accurate...

I can already tell you that next chapter will be quite angsty (finally ? lmao)

Tagged : @astral-finan , @geekandbooknerd , @pokeasleepingsmaug , @ucancallmechlo , @naihqh , @queen-manning and @kelly-fasel <3

#broken crown #the last kingdom #finanxoc #fanfiction #finan the agile #finan #finan fanfiction

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darknessisafriend · 4 years

Text

The world will be ours Part 1

Commodus x Reader

@stellargirlie your request and as I am super inspired it will be in several parts ;)

You are the heir of a kindgom conquered by Rome. To strenghen its bound to the Empire, the Emperor has made an offer your family can’t refuse... you will marry his son Commodus, but you are scared of him and he doesn’t want to marry

you, but Rome is hostile to Commodus reign, what will be your role in this, will you learn to love each other?

You were the only child of a very powerful warlord in the Kingdom of Gallia, now under the Authority of Rome. It didn’t bother you, your family still had a certain rank within the roman society, and they brought so many things like the beautiful architecture, better trade and stability. Everyone was united under Rome, no more battle for a herd of cows or any other small offenses; of course some were opposed to Rome in your clan but not you. You smiled to yourself, to make it clear your life was perfect, you were safe and happy with your parents, you didn’t need anything else. But the peace didn’t last, those who disapproved of Rome created rebellions, bringing roman legions to your doors, until that day…

“Father? You wanted to see me?” you asked him curious as to why he wanted to see you so late in the night. You frowned as you saw him pacing in the room, pacing a trembling hand through his hair, you mother was there too, what was she doing here? As he saw you, your father approached you, taking your hand in his, your mother came standing next to him, putting her hand on your forearm, no this wasn’t a good sign.

“My darling daughter…you are my greatest pride and I would do anything in my power to protect you…” you grew worried, this wasn’t like him to start a sentence like this, what happened?

“The rebellions are making the Emperor upset, he doesn’t want it to grow into a war with our kingdom…I received an envoy from Rome…we have to strengthen our friendship with the Empire.” He paused letting you process what he had just implied, you looked at him in the eyes, then at your mother, no it couldn’t be…

“You give me to him!?” you exclaimed, fear gaining your whole body, he wasn’t a bad emperor, he had a good reputation, but he was old, and you didn’t know him, you didn’t love him or anything of the sort.

“Not to him my daughter, to his son Lucius Aurelius Commodus.” Your mother added, a compassionate expression on her face. You looked around feeling betrayed by your own family, the son was probably a worse decision.

“Please father no…”

“We have to, we have to maintain peace and good relationship with Rome.”

“I thought you cared about me…Commodus isn’t wise, you know it! Father, please I’m begging you don’t do this, he will kill me the second I displease him!” you whimpered tears running down your face, but your father didn’t let go, keeping his face emotionless.

“Then make sure to please him in everyway possible. The matter has already been taken care of. You will be leaving at the end of next week, the Emperor is in a battle a bit farther in the north, when it’s done, Commodus and Lucilla his sister will join him, and you’ll be sent there. It is a great honor for our family.” He spoke trying to prevent his voice from trembling with sadness, but you didn’t care about how he felt, he had sold you without asking you first, and now you had no choice but obey, the future of the kingdom and lives within it were in your hands now.

You clenched your jaw and fled to your bedroom, locking it so nobody would follow you there. You collapsed on your bed, burying your face in your pillow, muffling the sound of your cries.

The following week you barely got out of your quarters, barely eating or even sleeping, simply waiting for this day to come and get this over with. Suddenly you heard a knock on your door, and someone entering, your turned to see who had entered without your permission. It was your mother, she looked tired, slowly she approached you and sat on the bed, resting her hand on your leg, you didn’t say anything, there was nothing to say.

“The emperor is dead.” She announced, shock was a poor word to describe your surprise, you finally met her eyes.

“So…what is going to happen to me?” you asked, faintly hoping that the marriage would be forgotten.

“Commodus is now Emperor, he will need his wife to support him in his new responsibility…you will be meeting him tomorrow and he will bring you back to Rome with him for a proper ceremony.” She explained to you softly. So you were going to be the wife of an Emperor now, it was indeed a great privilege, you hoped you’d be up to the task, if he doesn’t kill you first…

You didn’t sleep this night, thinking about meeting him, what does he look like? is he as ruthless as people say? Or worse? Was he going to like you? As the sun started to appear, supervised by your mother, slaves came to help you dress up for the meeting. Your hair were slightly tied up with a tiara, two long strands of hair loose on the sides of your face. You were wearing a white silk stola, perfectly outlining the curves of your body. Your mother smiled, her eyes wet, she cupped your face.

“You are so beautiful my daughter, you are so brave…” tears prickled in your eyes at her words, you hugged her tight.

“You’ll see, I heard Rome is a wonderful place, and I’m sure that the Emperor will treat you well when he’ll see your beauty and kind heart.” She added fondly, kissing your forehead one last time.

You went alone in the carriage, your father on a horse, leading the cortege. A few hours later the horses slowed down, you could hear a lot of noises outside, men talking, horses braying, tools and swords slamming. You were nervous, scared even; you were going to meet him very soon. A legionnaire came to open to you, you got out to see a group of people coming in your direction, you looked at your father for comfort, he gave you an encouraging smile, you took a deep breath and focused your eyes on the people coming to you, there was woman, very well dressed, she was gorgeous, you felt a bit of relief to see a woman, you felt small among all these men and maybe she’ll understand how you feel. Your eyes drifted to the man next her, he had jet black hair, and green eyes so clear and intense, you felt intimidated by his presence and even more when you looked at his clothes and realized he was Commodus, the new Emperor.

You quickly bowed your head in respect, not meeting his eyes. You saw him stop at arm’s length from you. Still it felt like his closeness was burning you.

“Lucius Aurelius Commodus, Emperor of the Roman Empire, I am honored by your presence.” You spoke your voice lower than you wanted to.

“Y/N daughter of Quincus warlord and hero of Gallia kingdom. I am pleased to meet you.” He spoke in a calm yet authoritative tone as he extended his hand for you to kiss his ring; you softly took his hand, the contact with his skin sending shivers down your spine, your lips coming into contact with the cold metal of his ring.

“You can look at me Y/N” he added his voice amused, you were so nervous that you hadn’t met his eyes and when you did you felt your heart stop, he had so much charisma simply by the way he was standing and looking at you, he didn’t smile though, you hoped it wasn’t because of you.

“Now brother, I think my future sister-in-law needs to rest before our departure tomorrow.” The woman voice said kindly, feeling your distress.

“This my dear sister Lucilla.” Commodus explained, looking at her lovingly, his face relaxing at her view. She smiled at you sweetly and took you by the arm to bring you to your tent.

“Do not worry, my brother can be intimidating but he is a loving man you’ll see.”

“Oh good, he doesn’t look really happy to marry me…” you muttered, uncomfortable at the whole situation.

“It was a surprise for him as well, my dear father told him a few days ago, he wasn’t expecting to have a bride chosen by father…but I’m sure he will come to appreciate you, you seem like a lovely woman to me.” She added nicely, squeezing your hand in reassurance. A small smile formed on your lips, you were glad she was here, you were sure she would become a friend of yours soon and her words on Commodus were reassuring.

That night you had dinner with her, your future husband didn’t join, he had a lot to do as a result of his new status. This gave you time to get to know Lucilla better and you got along with her very well, she told you about her dead husband, her son Lucius; her presence made you almost forget about your family, it was nice to meet a woman like her. After a bit you went back to your tent, tomorrow you will be leaving early to Rome. You took a little walk around the camp, you were getting closer to your tent now, but you suddenly stopped when you recognized the voice of Commodus, he was talking with Lucilla, about you.

“I can’t marry her Lucilla!” he argued.

“Brother, it is the will of our father and the senate, you need someone to take care of you…”

“But why can’t it be you then?” he complained, his voice almost childish.

“Because I am your sister and I can’t take care of you the way a wife would. Besides she will be good to you, I know it…”

“How? She doesn’t know me and is probably not interest to.” He grumbled

“Don’t be so sure brother, her cheeks blushes at the sound of your name and at your sight…She is one of the most kind-hearted women I have met, she’s selfless and that what’s Rome expects from the wife of the Emperor.” You heard Commodus sight in defeat, you pinched your lips together hurt by his words.

“We’ll see about that my dear sister…” he replied, his voice tired. You had heard enough, you felt like a disappointment, you were so worthless that you didn’t manage to capture his interest. You quietly entered your tent, upset that he didn’t see you the way his sister does. You had naively started to hope he would maybe fall in love with you at first sight, he was a beautiful man and when he interacted with his sister, he just looked so caring… maybe it will change… you suddenly felt tired and the moment you landed on your mattress you fell asleep, emotionally exhausted.

The morning after, you left when the sun started to appear, you climbed in the same carriage as Lucilla and Commodus. The space feeling even smaller as he sat next to you, of course he was going out on his horse from time to time, but when he was there you didn’t know what to do or say, and he wasn’t trying either. You didn’t know if he didn’t want to talk to you or if he was being shy, but it took him a few days to talk to you informally.

Lucilla had fallen asleep, you were reading poetry under the candlelight. As for Commodus he was drinking wine, he looked deep in his thoughts. You had gotten used to his presence, his silence, it was almost comforting now.

“What are you reading?” he asked softly, you blinked a few times not sure you had heard him talk, you turned your head to look at him, and he was looking at you expectantly, your heart fluttered, happy to be notice by your future husband.

“Quintus Ennius, the Annals.” You answered shyly, he raised an eyebrow.

“Poems of adventures, heroes and battles…I was expecting someone of your rank to read love poems…” you lowered your eyes, you had disappointed him.

“It’s interesting…did you advise your father in his decisions?” he asked, your head shot up, he was actually interested in hearing more, he had been surprised not disappointed.

“Yes, my mother is doing it too, but my father used to say I had a lot more perspicacity in politics and…I think it’s thrilling, trying to find who is to be your enemy, what will be their next move? Who is to be your ally? How to get people to join your side by other means than violence…” you explained a bit too excited, so you stopped talking waiting to see how he would respond to this. He was still looking at you, he released a smile, one of those he only had for his sister.

“It is good, I’ve always been a man of action unlike my father…he was studying so much that he often forgot the people. But I won’t, they will see change, and the Roman Empire will be more glorious than ever before.” He declared, his eyes full of passion, you could see he intended on keeping his word, it was truly fascinating, and you were curious of what you will bring to his reign.

You weren’t sure if you had the right to express your views to him, but you felt like he was open to such discussion.

“The empire needs stability more than ever, it will bring peace and economic prosperity, it has been too changing…the senate is unstable, taking one decision and then cancelling it with the changes of senators…” His eyes met yours, surprised, he shifted closer to you.

“Exactly! I want to restore full power to the Emperor, no need for debate or waiting, the people will get what they need, I will bring it to them on a silver plate!” he whispered to you, as if no one should hear it but you, you could tell he was excited to be back in Rome, he wanted to be the best Emperor that has ever walk in this mortal world.

That night, the two of you talked for a long time, you were happy that he had the same political vision as you. With time you grew closer to him, of course not as a lover yet but as a friend, after all it will take 4 weeks to reach Rome, so it left time to talk. Lucilla could feel the change in his attitude towards you, and she was glad, maybe you were what his brother had always needed.

He would offer you wine, spontaneously smile at your sight, he was simply more open to your presence, maybe he started to think of offering his friendship to you. You spent countless nights talking with him, whispering not to awake Lucilla, and you had to admit you were starting to fall for him.

“I feel like I could trust you Y/N…I hope I can.” He had confessed to you one night, you had ignored the silent threat in the last part because he could trust you.

“You can Commodus, I am to be your wife and you my husband, but you are also my Emperor and I would never betray my Emperor…and my friend if one day you honor me with such title.” You answered truthfully, resisting the urge to take his hand to reinforce your words. These words seemed to strike him, he didn’t reply, probably still vigilant, and you didn’t hold it against him, already glad about the progress your relationship had made the past weeks.

You fell asleep not long after this talk, unfortunately you were not conscious to witness him slowly getting up and gently putting a cover on your body so you wouldn’t get cold. He watched you sleep for a few minutes, confused by how he was growing attached to you, it had only been Lucilla before…but not anymore. He lifted his hand and softly brushed the back of his index against your cheek.

Getting full control of the Empire will be hard and probably deadly, you were not his priority at the moment, but it would be nice to have someone he could trust, love and be loved in return. You will have to prove it to him, prove you’re worthy of him and if not the blade will fall upon you.

If any of you want to be tagged in the next part, ask me !

#Joaquin Phoenix #commodus #gladiador #commodus x reader #commodus imagine #joaquin phoenix joker #commodus/reader #Commodus/Reader

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revrevrew-writblr · 3 years

Text

Angels and War

Content Warning: Some themes of abuse, betrayal, and death.

Against all odds King remained an idealist. He had only recently been called upon to make the more difficult decisions of war, the ones that made him doubt his beliefs. His doubts grew insurmountable at times, especially when his counselors brought up ‘necessary sacrifices.’ Surely there was a way to win the war without deliberately sacrificing a fourth of his armies.

If it wasn’t for that damned royal no one would have to die at all.

It had been three years since the nice of the angelic queen had spurned him and ignited this war. If she had gone through with the alliance and married him, like she had promised this war would not have happened.

It was fortunate neighboring kingdoms had taken his side in the debacle, otherwise his kingdom would already be under the rule of the Angelic empire.

Now if he could only get his nobles on his side, he would be golden.

Nobel Archer knelt before King and rose before King acknowledged them; the boldness of that action spoke volumes. The Nobel was at fault for the deaths of many of his soldiers and King had already decided their punishment.

“My King, you’ve summoned, and I am here.” A sly smile played on Nobel Archers face, his shoulders were back, his chest out, and his chin high.

King leaned forward, arms resting on his stone thrown. “Nobel Archer, are you aware of the crimes brought against you?”

The Nobles' smile faltered, “Crimes? My King surely you misspoke, perhaps news of my recent successes has not reached you?” He sounded doubtful.

King’s jaw clenched, his head slightly shaking, “If you call sacrificing a third of your soldiers, three ships, and our good name among the north alliances a success then yes I’ve been debriefed.” King gave a tight smile.

“My King… They were only commoners, they are... easily replaced. What is not easily replaced is our strong defenses around the marina.” A nervous laugh bubbled out of Nobel Archer.

“Just commoners?” A bitter taste filled King's mouth; his lip curled in disgust. It was true that the Marina had to be defended at all necessary costs, but Noble Archer had sacrificed more than was necessary. The most damning part being that the North alliances testified that Noble Archer had a less costly plan described to him but had shot it down, in favor of his own plan.

If Noble Archer had spoken kindlier of the common guards, King might have written the fault off to a hasty judgment made in the heat of battle. He would have removed Archer from his station and placed him somewhere less trying, but the way Noble Archer justified it, the way he came in expecting praise, betrayed Noble Archer’s true character.

“I think you will find, Archer, that nobles are just as replaceable. I am stripping you of your title, and sending you to the front lines,” to die.

“My King, please, don’t be hasty.” Archer knelt gingerly on the ground, as if meaning to keep his fancy suit clean. King rolled his eyes and leaned back, covering his mouth with his hand. “I understand your frustrations but perhaps I can change your mind. I’ve bought you a gift.”

It was rather pointless to ‘give’ King what would soon be his, but he entertained the pleading man. Sometimes a gift was more than to give, but rather to show. In this case Archer was showing off his connections. As if saying ‘if you throw me away, you also throw away what I can do for you.’

King gave a nod, and Archer stood leaving for a few moments, presumably to yell at someone to retrieve the ‘gift.’

When Archer returned it was with two guards dragging an angelic slave behind them. The guards deposited the drugged angel on the floor; she collapsed to her knees and swayed forward. The angel’s clipped wings sagged around her in a partial cocoon. Dazed, she lifted her head to survey the room.

It took King a few seconds of hard staring before he placed the face, it was hard to tell it was them without her layers of makeup.

What the hell is my ex, catalyst to a war, doing in my throne room. She had made it quite clear last time she saw me that she wanted nowhere near me.

Archer was still speaking when King cut Archer off, “Where did you get her?” His brows furrowed, his fists clenched, he barely glanced at Archer. He was watching Angel intently.

“Excuse me?”

“Where. Did. You. Get. Them?” King glared at Archer, his tone clipped and irritated.

“From a slaver in the south section of the city.”

“Wonderful.” King spat the word out, his lip curling. King could see the moment when Angel recognized him. His name forming silently on her lips. “This changes nothing Archer. Report to the front lines in the morning.” King waved them off. When Archer stood there stunned, King gave an irritated glance in his direction and signaled for the guards to escort him out.

King dismissed everyone else except Angel.

“Angel…” The word came out soft and full of past longing, though it was meant more as a curse. His hands shook as he grasped his knife, he felt every inch the spellbound boy he had been three years ago. Except this time, he would end it.

He stood on wobbly knees and began advancing on her.

Angel looked up at him with wet eyes, she started to tremble, hugging her torso. “King, I… You… what day is it?” Her voice wavered and was sluggish.

King paused at that, “It’s the third day in the year of Orioniah.”

Angel let out a long sigh, and her eyes fluttered closed for a second, a peaceful smile on her lips, “You have three days. Three days’ time before my aunt attacks over the deadly pass.”

King drew closer, using his knife to drive Angel’s chin upwards, exposing her throat. “Why should I believe a word you say?” Spittle flew from King's mouth.

Angel spoke softly and with her mouth mostly closed, careful to avoid the tip of the knife, “Because you know it’s true.”

King gasped at that; she knew his secret. No one knew, not since his parents died.

“I’ve known since the day I met you. I’m sorry I lied to you, but it wasn’t my fault.”

Like hell it wasn’t!

“We just established I can feel it when you lie to me, so I don’t know why you try.” King spoke through clenched teeth, pressing the knife closer to Angel's neck.

“Just because I don’t believe it, doesn’t mean it’s not true.” The knife scraped her throat when she spoke, blood dribbled down her neck. Guilt shot through King, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t feel guilty about a little blood spilt when he was about to spill all of it.

Said the torturer to his victims.

King eased the knife slightly back.

Magic wasn’t an exact science, King was more of a lie detector, which with a great deal of concentration, or ignorance of the actual facts, he could be deceived.

“So, I should just trust you?” King sneered.

“I never said that. We both know you can get answers. Or you could just kill me, at this point,” her chin trembled, and tears traced down her face as she looked to her clipped wings, “I don’t think I care either way.”

King moved his knife hand back and placed his other hand around her neck, his thumb resting in her blood.

He was thrust into the past and into Angel’s memories.

~~~

Angel knelt for long minutes, prostrated on the floor, gritting her teeth and took a few calming breaths, trying to hide her frustration. Her aunt had called her and was making her wait. Angel needed this time to prepare for her team's next deployment, instead she was wasting time catering to the demands of a power-hungry dictator.

Finally, the queen spoke, “I’m cancelling your next deployment. I have a more important job for you.”

Finally acknowledged she could look at the queen, she sat up on her knees and feet. Watching the queen intently.

“I need you to procure a marriage alliance with King. I need you to woo him.”

Angel was going to be sick, “To what end?” The question boarded on insolence.

“Leave me.”

Angel left as quickly as possible.

SNAP. A new memory replaced the old.

Angel was breathing erratically as her aunt shoved her way into her rooms, the smell of strong drink on her breath. Terror crowded Angel’s view, this memory was hazy, her aunt looming over Angel as she reared back to kick Angel in the gut. Angel curled protective over her stomach.

I can’t fight back. I won’t fight back. I can’t… Angel coughed up a splatter of blood.

After some time, her aunt disappeared from her vision, and her cousin Alexa filled her view. Her tears fell on Angel’s cheeks.

“Why don’t you ever fight back?!” Her voice hitched on a sob, “Dammit!”

Angel reached up to her cheek, “If I do…” She’ll turn on you. You may not be a child anymore, but you are no warrior. You are not familiar with the pains of battle, and the strategic losses that one must take. This is my strategic loss. If I fight back, she’ll come to your rooms when she’s drunk. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

I love you.

Snap.

Angel dipping into heavy makeup and reaching for a long-sleeved turtleneck dress.

Snap.

Then memories of her and him, laughing, smiling, the feeling of love blossoming in her chest. She shied away from his touch in every memory, a fear lining her features for just a moment. How had he never noticed before?

Snap.

Angel was peering from behind a curtain, her aunt speaking in a hushed tone to her advisor. “You’ll have the cook line Angel’s cup with this, and I’ll insist that King pours the wine. We’ll pin the murder on King, maintain the good opinion of our alliances, and take over their kingdom while its rulers’ blood is still wet on the marble floors.”

Snap.

Angel confronted him the night before the banquette, during a minor ball before the engagement. She approached hastily, he smiled at her, his eyes sparkling with humor. He opened his mouth, ready to share what was so funny.

Angel hated herself for slapping the smile off his face. Her hand stung; she had prepared for this all day. “How dare you sleep with Carmen Jaxon! I deserve much better than cheating scum! I should have known. You’re only human after all.” Angel clenched her jaw, refusing to look at him. “You should leave, and never come back.”

King gave Angel an incredulous look, his hand flying to his face, a gasp escaping him. “Y- you’re not making any sense!” Angel turned to leave; he grasped her arm to halt her. He looked into her watered eyes; her gaze unable to meet his. “What is going on!?”

Angel jerked out of his grip, “Just Leave! The engagement is off! I don’t want you here, I’m not going to marry you. I’m disgusted by proceeding any further.”

Truth.

He had departed that night; his parents were to follow tomorrow.

Snap.

Angel watching as King's parents were cut down where they stood.

Snap.

Angel battling on the front lines.

Snap.

Angel screaming at the crack of a whip.

Snap.

Long days in prison.

Snap.

Alexa opening Angel’s cage in the dead of night,

“Hurry, hurry!” She beckoned Angel. “You must warn King!” They were running through the battlefield, praying they wouldn’t be caught and cut down where they stood, not even a crown princess could escape the queen’s justice.

“Mother is going to wage war through the deadly pass in two weeks' time.”

“She figured out the spell?!” The quickest path between the angelic kingdom and King’s kingdom was through the deadly pass, if you could avoid the thunderstorms, hurricanes, and whirlpools. Everyone who sailed in, had to fly out and many had drowned due to the long distance back.

A worried look filled Alexa’s eyes as she spoke, “yes.”

They were outside when Angel stopped them behind a tent, hidden in the darkness of night. “I have only ever stayed to protect you. The queen will know you freed me; she’ll kill you if I leave. What are you planning?”

Alexa teared up, “I have people, we’ll gather intel, and if the opportunity presents itself, we’ll throw a coup.”

Alexa pulled her in for a fierce hug, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Angel cried into Alex’s shoulder, “be safe.” Angel pulled back, grasping Alexa’s shoulder in a reassuring grip, “You’ve grown so much, your dad would be proud.”

Tears spilled over Alexa’s eyes, “Leave, while you still have a chance.”

SNAP.

King stumbled backwards shocked, the battle to come would be gruesome, and he was weeks behind. Angel passed out, falling forwards. King Henry dropped his knife and caught her. “I’m sorry,” he said ashamed now of how he acted, “and thank you.”

#56788765 #Short Stories #This is something that I've edited a couple of times #I really enjoyed writing it #Kings and Angels #Angels and War #original work #original content #Content Warning #Themes of abuse #death #betrayal #Mine

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a crown seldom enjoyed - chapter 30

To maintain the fragile peace between north and south, Clarke of House Tyrell is sent to live in Winterfell as an act of faith between the two kingdoms. There, she is put under the protection of the first queen in the north, Queen Lexa of House Stark, Daughter of Wolves. A woman draped in steel and silver, wolves at her heels and rumoured to be a manifestation of the fury of the old gods; Clarke refuses to be awed be her quiet violence and cold smile. Instead of fostering unity, the meeting of the wolf and the rose lights a spark that spreads through the rest of Westeros, threatening to burn it to the ground.

30/33

clexa game of thrones au

read on ao3

—

Book Three: Chapter 9

The baby in her arms is warm and heavy, a little sleeping bundle with dark curly hair and lashes as delicate as a butterfly’s wing. Having never been around many young children as a child, Clarke is surprised to find that little Benam has changed even in the few weeks since she last saw him. His features are more pronounced, his hair thicker and he is definitely bigger than he was. She gazes down at him in the candlelight, utterly entranced. Jasper’s new wife Maya had told her that he would likely sleep through the night, but she can’t help but hope she is wrong. She would love to see his little eyes blink open, his little mouth stretch in a contented yawn.

The knock that comes to the door startles her, though the babe in her arms doesn’t stir. She calls a quiet entry and watches as Octavia escorts Wells into her quarters. The captain’s gaze lingers on the baby, but Clarke has no eyes for anyone but Wells. He stops just steps from the door, his wide eyes flickering from her face to Benam’s sleeping form.

“Clarke, what-”

“Wells wait,” She cannot help herself, reaching out to stop him and jostling the baby by accident. He squirms and lets out a tiny wail, his eyes still closed, and she hushes him quietly, rocking him back and forth in her arms.

“Is that…” Wells is still frozen in place, as if vines have grown from the floor and affixed him in place. She watches him, watches the way his eyes cannot seem to stray from the bundle in her arms.

“I thought you should meet your son, Wells.”

His gaze finally finds hers, but to her surprise it is filled with rage. He snaps, furiously, his voice low and mindful of the child but no less angry for it. “What were you thinking Clarke? We agreed that he would be safer away from here?”

“We did,” She admits finally, shame spilling through her like water over the banks of a river. “But I needed you to meet him Wells, if only once, before you made your decision.”

Wells eyes meet hers and they are filled with a familiar anguish, one that will not seem to leave the Baratheon heir. If she had doubted his feelings for Ivy before, if she had wondered whether the Flea Bottom girl was just a product of too much wine and a thoughtless cock, she knows now that she was wrong. Her friend has been withdrawn and filled with despair ever since Clarke told him of Ivy’s death, and there is a shadow to his eyes that she feels far too keenly.

Slowly, Wells takes a step in her direction. His hands are shaking, she realises, but he edges closer to her regardless. She watches with baited breath as he approaches and when he is close enough to see the baby, she tilts her arms to give him a better view.

“His name is Benam,” She tells him softly, “Benam Baratheon. Your son.”

“Benam,” Wells echoes, quietly and Clarke pulls in a shaking breath.

“Don’t you see,” She entreats him quietly, “If you give up your right to the throne you are giving up on Benam, don’t you want to see him take his rightful place at your side?”

Wells lets out a shaking breath and when he raises his gaze to Clarke again she is startled to see that his eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

He voice shakes. “I know that you see only me when you look at him, but I see Ivy as well. I can’t- I couldn’t bear to watch him grow and see her in every part of him and know that I caused him to be a motherless child.” She opens her mouth to argue with him, but he seems to know what she is about to say because he cuts through her. “I cannot be king Clarke, I cannot- not after Ivy and my father and your father-” He shakes his head, his voice breaking and she soothes him quietly.

“I’m sorry, Wells, I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Benam will be well cared for with Maya and Jasper, I will see to it that they have all they need to be comfortable and protect him.”

“No,” He shakes his head, his eyes dark and clouded. “I may be naïve,” He bites out a bitter laugh, “But I am not so foolish to think that you won’t need Benam when the time comes. He has the name Baratheon after all.”

“Wells,” Her stomach sinks at the sound of his voice, so twisted with grief.

“You are not pregnant Clarke, despite the rumours floating around the castle. You will need an heir within the next few months or your claim to the throne will be disputed.” His gaze settles on Benam again. “Especially one with the name Baratheon.”

“Speak clearly Wells,” She demands, frowning over Benam’s body, which is heavy with sleep.

“I will renounce my claim to the throne,” Wells tells her firmly, “And pronounce Benam my true born heir – I’m sure we can offer some country Septon enough gold to say he married Ivy and I- and you can take him as your ward.”

“But Wells, he is your son, your name, your House.” Clarke insists, as Wells turns to make his way to the door.

His hand on the frame he pauses and when he looks back at her it is as if all of her ghosts are reflected in his eyes. “I have no House anymore.”

—-

Her mother is at least kind enough to send a messenger on ahead, giving Clarke a few hours to prepare for her arrival. The castle is aflutter with the news of her coming, but nerves churn in Clarke’s gut as she stands upon the steps, surrounded by her advisors and waiting for her mother’s carriage to pass through the imposing gates of the Red Keep. She hadn’t been lying when she told Lord Marcus that she was filled with trepidation at the thought of seeing her mother again. Something has settled in her stomach at the thought of her mother, flowering up through her chest and spreading its leaves through her ribs, a queasiness, a fear of the look that her mother will level her with when she steps out of her carriage.

The horns blow and she pulls in a shaking breath, standing straighter. The weight of the circlet on her head feels immense, pressing down through her skin and bone. Her mother’s attendants appear and the weight in her chest eases at the sight of her House sigil on the banners and uniforms. Her marriage, short and illegitimate as it may have been, have made her a Swann forever, and it is Finn’s banners that are strung through the castle. The sight of her own golden rose on a green field almost brings tears to her eyes.

The procession of knights and squires and horses come to a stop and her mother’s carriage arrives before the steps. A footman hurries out to open the door and offer his hand, and Clarke lifts her chin as her mother steps out of the carriage. Her dark hair is slung back into a neat twist, and Clarke is unsurprised to see that she still wears a black veil of her dark blue dress. While never a woman for the trappings of noble life, her mother’s appearance is even more bleak than usual, her face wan and pale as she turns to look up at the imposing castle. The smile that passes across her lips when she sees Clarke is so bright, however, that it makes everything else fade into the background.

Before she knows it, Clarke is descending the few steps to the courtyard, holding out her hands, and Abigail takes them between her own, pressing them together. Her mother’s eyes are just as they have always been, and Clarke feels emotion rise so strongly in her throat that she is worried she will cry before all of court.

“Clarke,” Her mother squeezes her fingers, her voice thick with emotion. “My daughter.”

“Mother,” Clarke’s voice cracks, but it is pitched low enough that only Abigail can hear. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Abigail’s eyes dart over the castle and there is a shadow to them that pokes at Clarke’s heart ache. Still, she lies. “So am I.”

“Please, come inside. You must be tired after your journey.” It is immensely strange to realise that this is the first time she is welcoming her mother into her own home. The Red Keep does not feel like a home in the slightest, it is only just beginning to feel like a place she can stand to be rather than a place drenched in nightmares.

Her mother accepts her invitation, following her up the steps. She glances at Lexa, and her brows furrow even as she gives a respectful bow of her head, but when she spots Lord Marcus beside her all animosity fades from her expression. She holds out her hand and Marcus takes it gratefully, clasping it in both of his. Lady Tyrell’s voice is deep with sincerity when she says.

“Marcus, how good to see you here.”

“And to have you here, Abby,” He answers, earnestly, and they exchange a glance that Clarke cannot quite decipher before her mother turns back to the steps into the castle. She has her servants and handmaidens take her things to her chambers, and immediately lets Clarke lead her to the queen’s rooms. The moment the door shuts behind them, Octavia and Roan loyally posted on either side of it, her mother looks at her and opens up her arms.

Clarke allows herself to sink into them, and though there is something strange to the action which seems to set it in offset from the world around them, she is glad to rest her head against her mother’s shoulder and let familiar arms hold her, if only for a moment. Eventually, she pulls herself away, trying to ignore her mother’s yearning gaze and reaching hands.

“How was your journey?” She asks at last, when she can think of nothing more to say, and her mother’s shrewd eyes flicker over her, seeing every doubt and uncertainty, and it is this which makes her turn quickly and pull her crown from her head, setting it on the wide table near the window.

“Fine enough,” Her mother’s gaze is so heavy it feels like a cloak around her shoulders. “I’m glad to find you well here… better than well I suppose. You are queen.”

“Mother,” Her voice is terse and short, “Please, spare me your judgement, I did what I had to.”

“I know,” Abigail’s voice is less angry than she expected, and when she chances a glance at her she sees sadness in her eyes as her mother sinks into an armchair by the fire. “You have done more than I ever expected from you.”

“So…” She falters, her anger stuttering. “You aren’t angry with me?”

“I was not best pleased when you didn’t return to me in the Eyrie as instructed, make no mistake,” The look Abigail fixes her with is intensely reminiscent of her childhood, when she had been caught stealing buns from the kitchen, or sneaking around with the handsome stable boy. “But what could I expect, you are your father’s daughter after all.”

“And my mother’s,” She settles into the chair beside her mother. “Lord Marcus says you went looking for trouble when you were young.”

Abigail scoffs, pursing her lips in annoyance. “Marcus says things he should not. That was a long time ago, when I was just a girl.”

“Before you met father,” Clarke says, quietly, and her mother nods.

“He made a woman out of me,” Abigail says quite simply, and her eyes settle on Clarke, soft with apology now. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for your wedding.”

“It wasn’t safe,” She disputes, instantly. “Not as it is now.”

“Lord Finn was always a nice boy,” Her mother’s eyes dart over her curiously, “Did he… make a woman of you.”

Her cheeks heat at the words, despite all that has happened. “Not in the way you would think,” She says at last, “I am older than I was, but you will have no grandchildren despite what they are saying in court.”

“I hear that you only got the Baratheon lords to agree to crown you on the understanding that you would give them a Baratheon heir.”

“And I still will,” Clarke answers quietly, “But not in the way that they expect.”

—-

Clarke announces Pike’s imprisonment the day after her lady mother returns to the capital. She sends Lexa a note that morning to tell her of her announcement, and Lexa stalks about her rooms like a trapped animal when she reads it. Fear has settled deeply in her heart and despite herself, there is a large part of her that wishes she had let Anya kill Pike the moment that they threw him in a black cell. This moment is crucial for Clarke in the story of her reign, more crucial even than the first time she stepped before the people after Finn’s death. If the lords and ladies, even the smallfolk of the southern kingdoms do not accept what she tells them of Lord Pike, she will surely be overthrown in days and cast down as a traitor. Lexa has her horses readied, hoping vainly that she will be able to steal the southern queen away should anything go awry, but there is little more she can do than troop down to the Great Hall with the rest of the nobles in Kings Landing when the sun has reached its highest point in the sky.

She finds Clarke upon her throne, that appalling iron monstrosity, and around her stand her privy council. She is resplendent as always in a dark blue dress, her crown heavy upon her head and a girdle so wide it appears like plated armour around her waist. She gives Lexa the barest of nods as she enters, but otherwise watches on in silence as her nobles fill the hall, murmuring and whispering amongst themselves.

“My lords and ladies,” She says finally, and a hush falls over them all as they watch on with bated breath to see why they have been summoned. “It is with a heavy heart that I call you all here today. A grievous crime has been committed against our crown and kingdom which I cannot allow to go unpunished.” A wave of gasped breaths come from the hall as people exchange unsure glances. “It is my sad duty to inform you all that Lord Pike of House Lannister has been arrested by the crown.” A louder gasp and affronted cries accompany her statement, but Clarke ignores them all, waving to an attendant.

Lord Pike has been cleaned up for his appearance in front of the court. He is dressed in a plain but fresh doublet and jacket and scrubbed of the worst of the smell of death that lingers in the black cells. He is noticably thinner and there is a sickly pallor to his face, but otherwise he appears unchanged as he steps out before the crowd, a look of defiant smugness on his face.

“I bring Lord Pike here today to announce to him and you that he is accused of regicide and muder, and plotting against this kingdom to see it thrown into war once again.” The voices of dissent grow louder, but Clarke does not hesitate, only raising her own voice above the hubbub. “Tomorrow at dawn his trial will begin, let any man who would speak for or against Lord Pike come before me and the rest of this land to make their case heard.”

“May I speak, your majesty?” There is something to the way that he speaks, a smooth confidence to his voice that sits beneath Lexa’s skin and eats away at her.

“No, my lord, you may not.” Clarke answers him sharply. “Save your lies for the morrow, you will need them then.”

---

She retires to her chambers, Lord Marcus and Lord Robert falling into step behind her. Once inside, Harper hurries forwards to take her crown from her head, settling it carefully in a chest, and she rotates her neck once, easing it of stiffness. Then she settles her eyes on the two lords of her privy council.

“You are ready and able to do your duty tomorrow, my lords?”

Lord Marcus bows his head, and Lord Robert answers her gruffly.

“It will be my honour, your majesty,” His chest puffs up, as it always does when he is angry. “If Lord Pike truly is guilty of killing our beloved king I’d be happy to swing the blade myself.”

“I’m sure my late husband would be touched by your affection, my lord,” She softens herself just slightly for him. “But that is why we have a royal executioner.”

“The northerners have a saying,” Lord Robert begins, “He who passes the sentence-”

“Should swing the sword,” She finishes for him, allowing herself a small smile. “Yes, I know of it.”

“The northerners aren’t right in many regards, your majesty, but in this I think they could be.”

She cannot help but think of the times she has seen Lexa swing a sword and end a life. Three times she has seen the northern queen take life and death into her own two hands. She thinks of the dagger Lexa gave her, thinks of Faith ripping the first assassin from on top of her, of Roan passing his sword through the second, of her own hands suffocating the life out of Cage Wallace with a strength that was not her own.

Her voice breaks, “You may be right, my lord, but I’m not sure I could swing a sword to end Lord Pike’s life, even after everything he has done.”

Lord Robert’s smile edges on paternal and sympathetic. “Of course not, your majesty. But who better than your master of laws to end the man’s life.” His fingers twitch to his sword.

Her eyes widen as understanding rushes over her. “I see, I will think on it, my lord.”

“That is all I ask, your majesty.”

“You must be weary,” Lord Marcus intervenes, much to her relief. “We will leave you to rest, your majesty.”

As they step from the room, Clarke turns to the wide balcony, running her fingers along the warm stone and stepping out to breath in the warm summer air. From here she can see the ocean, stretching out in a wide expanse of blue that reaches to the horizon. The sun glistens against the waves and ships come and go like dark shadows on the scene. It is good to remember that there is a whole world going on beyond the walls of this city, this castle, this room.

“Your majesty,” Harper hesitates close by, looking out at her, and Clarke attempts to shrug off the mantle of queen.

She is almost successful when she says. “Yes, Harper?”

“I’ve been helping the maids move things from your old room to these, and when I was cleaning I found these.” She dips her hand into her apron pocket and pulls out a scrap of parchment wrapped around a small glass vial filled with dark liquid.

Dread fills Clarke’s stomach, like sticky black tar, and she reaches out to take them hurriedly, gathering them into her hands. “Did you read this?” She demands, harshly, and Harper shakes her head, alarmed.

“No your majesty. I just thought they might be important.”

Clarke’s eyes flicker across her face, searching for any sign of deceit, but she finds none and finally lets her breath flow from her chest. “Thank you, Harper.” A flush of affection spreads through her. “Truly, you are the most loyal handmaiden anyone could ever ask for.”

Harper colours, but is saved from answering by a knock to the door. She hurries to answer it, stepping back to let Lexa look into the room, offering her a bobbing curtsey. Clarke’s heart flourishes at the sight of Lexa looking in at her, a smile creeping across her face unbidden, brushing at imaginary creases in her dress.

“It’s the queen, your majesty,” Harper says, unnecessarily, and Clarke offers her a wry smile.

“I can see that Harper, you may go.” As the handmaiden slips away, Lexa shuts the door behind her and Clarke takes a few steps to the archway leading back in to the room, hesitating there like a marionette caught on her strings.

Lexa fixes her with serious, uncertain eyes, and pauses in her place near the table. “Have I disturbed you?” She asks, quietly, and Clarke shakes her head so fiercely she fears her hair will escape its tight braided confines.

“Not at all,” Her voice is hurried and breathy. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“You are?” Lexa’s face brightens at her words, and she steps out to join her on the balcony. “I know today must be difficult for you, I thought you might appreciate a distraction.”

“You are a wonderful distraction,” Clarke confesses, and she has to tighten her fingers around the vial and the letter to stop herself reaching out to touch Lexa. The northern queen notices her struggle, her eyes flickering down to look at her hands with interest.

“What are those?”

“Oh,” Clarke flushes, glancing down at her hands. She is torn for a moment, wondering which Lexa would more hate to see, and eventually crumples her fingers around the letter, holding out the vial for Lexa to look at. “Harper found this beneath my mattress.”

Lexa’s eyes widen when she realises what she’s looking out. She doesn’t reach out to take it, instead she flinches back just slightly, and distaste colours her voice when she says. “The poison from Winterfell.”

“Black Thorn,” She supplies quietly, after a moment of silence, and Lexa looks at her curiously.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“My great grandmother fancied herself an alchemist. It’s a Tyrell poison, passed from woman to woman. My grandmother gave it to me when I came north, to protect myself.”

“I suppose that was wise,” Lexa says at last, and when their eyes meet again Lexa’s are softer. “I never told you how much I respected you for coming north alone, it must have been a frightening thing to do.”

“You respected me?” Clarke’s brows shoot up, surprise painting every feature. “I always assumed you thought I was a spoiled southern lady.”

“Well,” A slight smile curls at the corners of Lexa’s lips, a lightness to her that Clarke has never quite seen before, and she finds her breath caught in her throat at the sight. “Maybe just a little.” At Clarke’s laugh she continues, bolstered. “But I saw the bravery in you as well. Perhaps I was foolish to assume you would come to us utterly defenceless.”

The words sober her, and she glances down at the poison, turning it between her fingers. “I would never have used it on you. Even when I hated you more than anything.”

“I know,” Lexa answers, after a moment of silence, and then, quickly, as if she cannot help herself, ““I’m sorry for the way that I treated you then. I was angry and I didn’t know-”

“Stop,” The words almost pull a laugh from her, so ridiculous are they. “You have nothing to apologise for. I tricked you and lied to you, and I will spend all of my life trying to earn your forgiveness for that.”

“Clarke,” Lexa reaches out to touch at her fingers where she is fiddling nervously with the bottle of poison. “You already have my forgiveness, I swear it.” Their eyes meet again and Clarke reads only sincerity in Lexa’s, simple and plain, and she feels her breath catch in her throat.

“I will continue to try to earn it anyway.” She promises, solemnly. Her eyes fall back to the poison between her fingers and revulsion curls suddenly up her throat, tightening like a noose. “I should throw this in the sea.”

“Don’t,” Lexa’s hand tightens around hers, and when their eyes meet again there is a darkness to them. “You have many more enemies here than you did in the north. You may need it yet.”

Clarke swallows at her words, but nods once, slipping the poison into the pocket of her dress. Lexa continues a little uncertainly.

“Speaking of enemies, may I ask you about your meeting with Cage Wallace? I know you didn’t want me there, but I had assumed you would keep me informed of events.” She bristles just slightly, and Clarke feels a flood of guilt.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. That was not Cage Wallace.” Confusion rushes over Lexa’s features.

“But Lord Marcus said-”

“Lord Marcus was wrong, he was a Faceless Man wearing Cage Wallace’s face.”

“He what?” Lexa’s voice ricochets up, her eyes widening with surprise. Her hand slides to the pommel of her sword, “He was a Faceless Man, Clarke how could you not tell me?” Her eyes flicker over Clarke’s face, suspicion settling in them, “If you really are Clarke.”

Clarke gapes at her, “Of course I am, don’t be absurd!”

“Prove it,” Lexa demands, though she does not draw her sword. “Tell me where we were the first time that we talked- really talked.”

“We were in the Godswood,” The words bring back the shiver of winter, the snow settling in her hair and around her shoulders, legs like ice from kneeling in the snow. “I was picking flowers to make a garland. You gave me your cloak.”

Lexa’s breath stutters out of her and her grip on her sword slackens. “It is you,” She breathes out, and the relief in her voice is palpable. “But how did you escape them again?”

“He didn’t come to kill me,” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out the iron coin. “He came to free me.”

Lexa takes the coin into her hands, passing it between her fingers with interest. “What do you mean, free you?”

“Their god no longer wants me dead, it seems. They will not attack me again. The final assassination was Cage Wallace himself trying to kill me,” She cracks a small smile. “Which is probably why I was able to overpower him.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate yourself,” Lexa counters, returning the coin to her. “From what I’ve seen you’re plenty able to defend yourself.”

“Well,” She offers her a charming smile, which only widens when she sees Lexa blush. “I had an excellent teacher.”

---

The noise coming from the Three Crows, one of the most popular taverns in the city, spills from the windows and door and out into the street. Men perch on upturned barrels and crudely made benches outside its walls, smoking and drinking and talking. Inside, the hall is filled with hubbub as people talk and bet over the dice tables, leering at the especially pretty barmaids that the owner had managed to procure. At a table near one of the open windows, Octavia watches her brother from the corner of her eyes as he sullenly drains another tankard of mead. Across the table from them, on a cushioned bench, Anya watches with feigned boredom as Raven demonstrates a trick with a silver coin that Monty had taught her, bouncing the coin from knuckle to knuckle.

There is a tension sitting upon Anya’s shoulders which Octavia knows is echoed in her own. Though they have left their queens in the capable hands of the rest of their Queensguard, both insisting that they take the evening for themselves, they are not quite content with leaving them alone. It is strange to sit across from Anya Mormont, in the same white cloak that she wears, when only months before she had thought even Queensguard was an utterly unreachable goal, let alone Captain of the Queensguard.

At her side her brother gestures for another tankard from the pretty serving girl, and utterly ignores her simpering smiles and fluttering eyelashes, shoving a couple of coppers into her hand in exchange. He is hunched over the table like an old man, cradling his cup between both hands and staring morosely into its depths.

Octavia sighs softly. When she had suggested that he join her for a drink that evening, she had not expected him to be quite so resentful. He had arrived at her quarters in the Queensguard tower – quarters she is still struggling to get used to- and scoffed darkly when she had opened the door to show the grandeur behind it. Now he glowers down at his cup, as mute and unhappy as he has been all night, and takes a long drag of the mead.

“So,” Raven finally tires of trying to impress Anya, and slips the coin – Anya’s coin if Octavia remembers correctly – into her pocket. She turns her attention to Bellamy, “Will you take up a post in the castle now Bellamy, to see your sister more?”

Bellamy’s glower only deepens at the suggestion and he presses his lips together stubbornly. ”No, I’ll be staying in Lord Pike’s service.”

“How will you do that?” Anya asks lazily, swirling her wine around her goblet. “By tomorrow he’ll no longer have a head if the queen has anything to say about it.”

Bellamy’s eyes flicker with fury and his head snaps up to glare at her. The hatred in his voice is enough to make Octavia flinch when he spits. “I don’t give a fuck what that bitch says, she’s no queen of mine.”

Anya’s eyes dart to Octavia, and Raven’s widen, her lips pressing into a furious line. Octavia suppresses the rage that boils up in her chest. “She wants what’s best for the kingdom, Bellamy.”

“Like seven hells she does,” Bellamy turns to unleash his fury on her, his voice rising. “She may have bought you off with a new cloak and grand rooms, but I see her for what she really is.”

“And what’s that?” Raven snaps, her fingers tight around her goblet.

“A murderer,” He answers hotly, “And a liar.”

“She isn’t lying about Lord Pike,” Raven shoots back, so loudly that Anya puts a hand on her shoulder to quieten her. “I translated the letters myself.”

“How do you know they were real?” Bellamy demands and it is Octavia who answers.

“I took them from Lord Pike’s desk!”

“Only because that lying whore tricked you…”

“Alright,” She grabs him roughly by his shirt collar, pushing him from the bench so hard that he stumbles to keep his footing. “We’re leaving, you’ve had too much to drink.”

“We’ll help you,” Raven offers, but Octavia shakes her head tersely.

“I don’t want you to have to listen to any more of this shit. See you tomorrow at the trial.” She shoves her brother from the tavern so quickly that she doesn’t notice the unease pass across Raven’s face.

They walk in tense silence for several streets, neither one willing to speak first and both so furious that they have to walk several feet away from one another.

Finally, Bellamy turns to say, darkly. “You’re being used Octavia.”

“You’re being used.” She argues, “Lord Pike is a tyrant and a murderer Bellamy, how can you be so loyal to someone like that?”

He rounds on her in the middle of the street, his expression so outraged that she momentarily pauses. “You call Lord Pike a murderer and a tyrant but what about your queen? Her father is dead and her husband… and she arrested Lord Pike in secret! You should take a long, hard look at Lady Clarke.” He shakes his head over her protests, “Pike has more supporters than anyone knows, we’ll get him out before he can be hurt.”

Before she can say anything to rebuke him, he turns on his heel, marching away into the darkness. Octavia watches him go, trembling with rage and glad that she had managed to resist punching him in the face.

—-

When a furious knocking comes to her door while the sky is still dark, she is not startled awake. In fact, she barely remembers what sleep is like any more. When the night comes and she is bathed and undressed, settled into her bed by Harper, she spends her nights staring at the canopy through the darkness, her mind humming with her thoughts and fears. Since her visit from the Faceless Man, she at least feels slightly more at ease, and the iron coin that shines on her bedside table brings her comfort when she turns it between her fingers, but she knows she was never destined to sleep well this night. Her pieces are carefully laid and she knows the words she will say as well as any mummer’s apprentice, but still her heart thuds when she thinks of the upcoming trial. Swinging her legs from beneath the covers, she pulls the dagger from beneath her pillow and crosses the room to the locked door.

“Your majesty!” Outside the door, the familiar sound of her newest Queensguard comes, and she breathes out a small sigh of relief, unlocking the door to find Princess Emeline shifting nervously from one foot to the next.

It had taken some time to decide who to appoint to her Queensguard, and still she has only five where there should be seven, but she has a good feeling about her most recent appointment: Princess Emeline Martell, Princess Arianna’s young niece. The girl is only twenty summers, but already one of the most renowned fighters in the Seven Kingdoms, and eager to prove herself.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” She says hastily now, “But something needs you attention urgently.”

At her side is the fourth member of her Queensguard, Ser Andrew Tarth, one of only two Queensguard remaining from her late husband’s Kingsguard. Though the years have robbed him of some of his good looks, Ser Andrew is still one of the best knights in the land, and he handles his sword well. Most importantly, he had loved Finn like a trueborn son, and wept over his body, and Clarke is assured that with Finn’s name attached to hers she will always have his loyalty.

He cuts Princess Emeline a tired glance, and says, firmly. “There’s no use in wasting her majesty’s time,” Here, he turns back to Clarke. “A man was caught by Ser Roan trying to free the Lannister lord from his cell. Ser Roan would have killed him in an instant, but he gave Octavia’s name.”

“I see,” Clarke’s brows furrow, and she rubs a hand over her eyes, trying to clear them of sleep. “Send for Harper, I may as well dress now and see this matter through before the trial. It can’t be long before dawn.”

They do as she instructs without hesitation, and soon Harper is there to dress her in gold and blue, the lines of her dress harsh and severe, rigid shoulders and a high neckline, nothing like the draping, floating materials and strips of skin she bared when seducing Finn. The sun is just beginning to creep over the horizon when she steps into her private audience chambers, so the room is lit mostly by flickering candles and Clarke’s lips part just slightly in surprise when the lighting reveals Octavia stood beside her kneeling brother, her hand on his shoulder holding him down.

At the sound of the door they both look up from where they have been arguing in hushed voices and Octavia bows lowly, while her brother fixes Clarke with a glower. It’s enough to bring her back to herself, and she straightens her shoulders, setting them both with an impassive look.

Ser Roan is stood only steps away, and it is to him that she turns first. “Ser Roan, Ser Andrew tells me that you caught Blake trying to free Lord Pike.”

“That’s right, your majesty,” Roan looks as if he is ready to impale Bellamy on his heavy longsword in this very moment, his expression thunderous. “I would have killed him on the spot but the boy gave Octavia’s name and asked to see her, and she begged for your judgement in person.”

“I didn’t beg,” Octavia bites back, before gathering herself under Clarke’s severe gaze. “Your majesty, I just wanted you to speak to my brother for yourself.”

“I’m not sure what you want to accomplish with this, Octavia,” Clarke answers her, honestly. “Your brother attempted to free Lord Pike from his cell, that isn’t something I can easily overlook. He should die for trying to disobey the queen’s orders.”

“Of course you would have me killed,” Bellamy Blake snarls from his place on the floor, twisting against his sister’s grip to look up at her. “See Octavia? I told you, she’s a tyrant!”

“Watch your mouth boy,” Roan reaches for his sword, but Clarke cuts through him.

“A tyrant?” The word sends a thrill of fury rippling beneath her skin, but she works to keep her expression settled and calm. She lifts a curious eyebrow at the doomed man. “Is that truly what you think of me?”

“You’ve given me no reason to think you’re anything less than a tyrant,” Bellamy shoots back angrily, and she gazes down at him, interested despite herself. “You’ve locked up my lord for no reason, in secret!”

“You were Lord Pike’s man, is that right?” Clarke looks down at him, “You truly never saw anything in him that suggested at evil?”

“Never!” Bellamy spits back, passionately. “He was a good man, he wanted what was best for the realm!”

“You are one of three things, Bellamy Blake. Either you are utterly naive, completely stupid, or the most loyal man I have ever met.” Her eyes flicker up to Octavia, “I have known your sister for some time, so I am inclined to say you are neither stupid or naive, which makes you loyal. Loyalty is a valuable asset to me.” If she had not known Octavia for so long she would not have been able to interpret the tension in her shoulders and her jaw, the worrying of the inside of her cheek as her eyes dart between Bellamy and her queen. It is for her sake that she says. “I will give you a choice, Bellamy Blake: take the black and join the Night’s Watch, or face the hangman’s noose.”

“Your majesty,” Octavia’s surprised voice cuts through Bellamy’s protests, “You’re too kind, he’ll take the black of course.”

“I will not,” Bellamy turns to glower at her. “Just because she has you under her spell doesn’t mean I don’t see her for what she is.” Her looks back to Clarke and squares his shoulders as well as he can from his place on the floor. “I will not be sent to the Night’s Watch to live out my days freezing half to death. If you want me silenced, you will have to kill me.”

Her considering gaze flickers over him. “Very well,” She says, at last, ignoring the horror that washes over Octavia’s expression. Outside, bells begin to toll, long and loud, and the sun has crept high enough over the horizon to send a slant of light into the room. “But you’ve taken up enough of my time for today. Take him to the black cells,” She instructs Ser Roan, then turns a firm gaze on Octavia.

The girl seems torn, watching as Roan takes her brother by his arm and hauls him away. Carefully, Clarke crosses the space between them, pausing only inches away from Octavia to fix her with her gaze. Octavia’s eyes are wide, her mouth slightly agape as if she wants to protest, and Clarke looks upon her as if from a height, though they are nearly the same size.

“I hope you can remember your vows, Octavia.” Her eyes flicker to the golden crown stitched onto the white cloak her Queensguard wears. “You are my captain, I trust you with my life. Am I right to?”

Octavia meets her eyes, and her chin tilts out, her jaw tightening. She nods once, a sharp motion. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Good,” She turns her back on the Queensguard, and tries to pretend she doesn’t feel a thrill of fear down the back of her neck.

#clexa #clexa gotau #clarke griffin #commander lexa #clexa fanfic

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