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uglypastels · 14 days

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Ridlington Park | I | Eddie Munson regency!au

Author's Note: It has been a long, long time, but I am back with another obnoxious AU. I hope you enjoy as we embark on this new adventure in Regency England. This story has been in the works for almost 2 years and is still far from finished, but I am having too much fun with this and have way too many ideas on where to take it, so suggestions are very much appreciated.

Word Count: 10k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works.

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Chapter One: A Game of Perseverance

“I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.”

– Jane Austen, Letter to her sister Cassandra, 1798

Three stories high, full of balconied windows, the house stood tall and overlooked the entire street. Ridlington Park, they called it, and situated at the centre of life–that is, London–the front door of the building was enveloped in flowers matching the seasons all year long. Currently, it was bright peonies that caught the onlooker’s eye. The perfectly trimmed bushes and trees were planted symmetrically, leading up to the front doors, giving visitors the right impression of what they could await once they stepped inside.

The residing family had spent a good fortune and effort ensuring the house represented them perfectly: clean, fortunate, and grand, but all done so in the utmost respectable and modest fashion as they were never the ones to boast. The walls had a light, warm tone reminiscent of early mornings in Spring, and the interior was decorated with portraits, new and old, beautiful oil sceneries of lands near and far, and busts and vases.

The evening was slowly approaching, the sun setting over the windows of the drawing room, enwrapping everything in a golden glow. The family sat silently around the room, giving each other the peace and quiet required for an uneventful afternoon followed by a slow night of fortunate sleep. The only sound appreciated was the pianoforte siding against the window, gracefully played by Mother. Four children sat around the separate corners of their world, enjoying the music while focusing on their own activities. Like most nights, these consisted of either reading or needlework, engaging in small conversations with one another occasionally.

As typical as any evening at Ridlington Park, it was highly unusual for the rest of London– a city which runs on scandals and gossip. Outside, the streets were bustling with lords and ladies of the Ton making their way back home from the markets, gardens and their fellows’ tea parties, gossiping about the latest impropriety to have occurred. After all, such topics, no more than nonsense really, were simply inescapable. And no matter how hard they tried to ignore it all, one way or another, it would always find its way up to the Byrnwick family. Most of the time, you, Gentle Reader, could hold yourself accountable for introducing the rumours proudly, much to your brother’s annoyance, who did his best to turn the pages of his novel as loud as possible as you talked with your mother from across the room.

‘Have you heard what happened at Lady Faulkner’s ball?’

‘Yes, sordid, really.’ Your mother sighed, turning around. ‘I am sure her family is in quite the uproar.’

‘Please,’ Christopher, your brother, shut his book down in frustration, clearly incapable of making any progress amidst the conversation. ‘If she had not wanted to get caught, she should have maybe ought to think twice about being out with a man in the middle of the gardens for everyone to see.’

You glared up at him. ‘Well, it is absurd that a woman cannot even stand in a public space with a man without bringing disgrace onto her entire family.’

‘Believe me; she did much more than just standing.’ Christopher scoffed, quickly receiving a cold stare from your mother.

‘Still, it is unjust.’ You ignored his insinuations. ‘Think of how men are free to go out at any time of day or night with whomever they please.’ You stabbed your needle through the cloth a bit harsher than intended.

‘My, you sure seem to be giving all this much thought. Have you any plans we should know about, sister?’ Your brother smirked.

‘Christopher!’ Your mother scowled. ‘That is quite enough.’

‘I was only joking, Mother,’ Christopher sighed, ‘we all know she is not going anywhere anytime soon.’

You were ready to retort angrily, or at least throw your needle at him, when the doors to the drawing room opened, catching everyone’s attention by storm. Five pairs of identical eyes directly aimed at the door frame, only softening when recognising the intruders. A welcoming of surprised gasps greeted the Lord and his eldest, Nicholas, as they entered the room. Not one foot in the room, and all activities were being put to a halt as the rest of the family gathered around the men—a loving reunion after a months-long journey from the Americas.

It was a surprising return, for father and son had yet to write of their plans in recent times. The last letter was received at Ridlington Park over three weeks ago, stating that the weather was amiable, if not a bit too humid, and that the family missed each other deeply. The lack of correspondence, therefore, was also an immediate subject.

‘But why did you not write, dear?’ asked Mother, after embracing her son. Nicholas was too occupied by his youngest sibling to answer; airways tightened in the arms of his 11-year-old sister, Marjorie. His father responded instead:

‘How could we write at sea, my love? The message would not have gotten here any faster than we did,’ the lord chuckled to his wife. He was correct, too, of course. His eyes seemed to surpass the gaze of his present family members in search of the one missing piece. ‘Where is Annabelle? I thought she would be home by now.’

‘She is home, with her husband,’ you explained carefully. Your father blinked slowly, coming to terms with this fact he had tried to avoid for so long. Annabelle had married last season and was very well off, to a Duke, no less, but it was still a big adjustment for the family seeing her gone and out of the house. Even with her frequent visits, it was strange to have one head less at the dinner table; one less chair occupied each evening, one less song played on the pianoforte.

‘Ah, well then,’ Father cleared his throat, ‘then we are complete.’ He looked at his wife and five children. One day, there would be even fewer of them. They will all be leaving the nest one by one. For some, marriage was long overdue, and as a man of high society, he could not wish his children a suitor or a lady soon enough, but as a father, he dreaded the day that the following proposals would take place.

Marjorie, becoming impatient and not as sentimental about her family’s reunion, tugged at Nicholas’ sleeve. ‘Come, you must tell us everything about your journey!’ She kept pulling until the eldest brother had no choice but to follow her and sit on the couch. Soon, everyone else joined on the chaises.

‘I am afraid there is very little to tell,’ Nicholas said, taking a chocolate biscuit off the tray beside the sofa. ‘It was all rather dull.’

‘Do not be ridiculous, brother,’ Fitzwilliam, the second-youngest and still hungry for adventure and the world outside of the Ton, looked at his older brother with high expectations. ‘I do not believe you and Father had been gone this long and did not experience anything worthy of a tale.’

You listened on as your siblings bickered, arguing over the value of a story, and its worth of being told and heard. Finally, after listening to it for about a quarter of an hour, you had to agree with Nicholas; it was all rather dull. No wonder neither he nor father did not bother to mention anything but the weather in their correspondence. Their days quickly grew into a pattern one is used to in travel and business. A pattern you might have understood if you cared to pay attention.

This attention only returned to the room when you heard your name being spoken. The conversation had shifted from the events that had been missed overseas to the town's happenings. Just as dull and irrelevant, some might say, the most interesting thus far was the staff changes at the house, and even these held very little consequence to you, but to this, some may disagree wholeheartedly.

‘So, the season has begun, has it not, sister?’ Nicholas asked.

‘Some weeks ago, yes.’ You did your best pretending not to feel an effect from this, occupying yourself with your needlework that was turning out far below the usual standard. ‘But do not worry; you have not missed much. In fact, I think things will finally begin to get a bit interesting with you back home.’ Nicholas had always had a taste for dramatics and had been known for having a very… loving nature. In the past years, you must have witnessed him falling in love at least a dozen times, preparing a proposal to half of these women, going through with it twice now, with one nearly making it to the alter if not for the bride getting caught in quite a compromising position with a footman.

For the next few weeks, Nicholas was known as the heartbroken gentleman, and you would have felt bad for him… if it was not for the fact that women from all over town came around to console him, day after day, of course not knowing that when his bride-to-be had been making arrangements with other men, your brother had been too busy charming ladies himself. It took a month for him to proclaim his love to another woman again.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Nicholas deflected your comment, quickly looking over to your mother and second oldest brother, Christopher, ‘any fitting suitors I should be aware of?’ As the eldest brother, Nicholas made it his duty to ensure his sisters found good husbands. That meant status and wealth but, above anything else, a good and genteel nature. You remembered how picky he was when Annabelle had been searching for a husband, even more so than your parents. Still, it was something you appreciated about your brother. His protectiveness showed the little heart he still held for you and the rest of your family, as much as he tried to hide it away.

Your mother bit her cheek, holding in the many thoughts and opinions she must have kept for herself. So did Christopher, who shared a very knowledgeable look of many words with Nicholas, one he understood clearly but you could not decipher just yet. However, you assumed the general message had been sent and received.

‘If you had seen the choices, brother, you would understand my predicament and situation all too well, believe me.’ Pretending to seem unbothered by the encrypted messages being sent around the room, you preoccupied yourself once more with the needlework.

‘I believe it is what you believe, sister,’ Nicholas turned back to your mother, ‘do you have a list of names? I shall go through them in the morning, see if it really is as bad as we are being told.’

You had wanted to reply, most likely in a dishonourable way, but you held your tongue and fell back in your seat, letting the rest of your family plan out the rest of your life, just like they had always done.

Unbelievable, Nicholas was home for all of five minutes, and he was already making lists. And knowing him, which you would like to think you did, it was merely a formality for your sake. He would already have a dozen names at the top of his head, ready to send out invitations to men for an audience with you.

Therefore, you were not surprised when, only a few days later, at the breakfast table, Nicholas told you about all the guests Ridlngton Park would soon be welcoming.

‘There is Mr Elton, and Mr Brookes will be coming over for tea; I also heard Lord Frankworth is interested in a visit, so is Mr Campbell, and—’ he kept on giving you names, with all of them entering one ear and immediately leaving through your other. You could not care less who wanted to see you, not after spending the last month trying your hardest to escape all of their attempts at promenading, lunching, and chatting of sheer nonsense.

‘I must ask you to be ready for your first audience before 10; a dress is already prepared in your room.’ Of course, there was a dress. All you could do was smile as you bit into a forkful of egg.

‘Oh, and there is one gentleman I would particularly like you to meet,’ your father chimed in, almost as if with an afterthought that he recollected at the last minute. You looked up at him apprehensively. ‘I had made a nice acquaintance of his father on our travel. What was his name– Harrolds, no…’ ‘Harrington, father. It was Mr Harrington.’ Nicholas corrected before looking over to you as he shared more. ‘He is a tradesman, quite successful. His only son had joined us on the ship back to England.’ The emphasis on his lineage was made with an apparent inclination. There were no more heirs, meaning the son would inherit the man’s entire wealth. ‘Certainly seems like a reasonable young man, clever too. The two of you will have lots to speak of.’

Well, I certainly cannot wait to meet him,’ you forced out a smile before quickly getting on with your meal despite losing all your appetite. At that moment, your stomach felt like a hollow pit, eating away at you, ironically.

‘You know, if you gave this all a chance, you might find yourself to actually enjoy it in the end,’ your mother commented with a tight lip.

‘I am sure I shall enjoy it then, as it means that it has all, in fact, ended.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I simply do not understand why this is a must in my life? Why must I marry this instant?’

‘Do not worry, dear. You are still young; you still have plenty of time, ' your father said, missing your point entirely and making you roll your eyes. ‘But your mother is right, too, a more agreeable attitude towards this will make things much easier.’

‘For whom, exactly? Is it for me to enjoy myself, or for everyone else as you will not have to endure me any longer?’

‘Can you really blame us?’ Nicholas mumbled, receiving a kick in the shin in return. He spent the rest of the discussion rubbing the targetted spot on his leg with a pained crease between his brows. You, besides gaining the small victory of maiming your brother, found yourself yet again on the losing side of another family dispute. Like all its predecessors, this battle ended with you pushing back your chair with a harsh scrape of the panelled floor and slugging back to your room where a dress awaited.

It was beautiful; you could not deny that. Elegant and straightforward, it accented all your finest assets for interested suitors. It was comfortable: not too heavy or too textured in its pattern, it was made of soft material that slipped right on, with the fit of a well-tailored glove. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, leaving nothing to hide behind.

‘You look lovely, miss,’ your maid said with a kind smile as she put the final pin in your hair.

‘Thank you, Claire.’ You muttered, noticing the saddened sympathy enveloping her features as she knew like no other how much you detested everything about what you were about to go through. ‘Have you got any advice? On how to endure it all?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she shrugged, brushing something off your shoulder. ‘I suppose you could try making them uninterested in you, so they will want to leave sooner.’

‘That thought has crossed my mind,’ you admitted, ‘but I also do not want to put my entire family to shame.’

‘Of course, miss.’ Claire nodded. As she finished working on your presentation, you pondered over your possibilities. Indeed, presenting yourself as improper had been your first idea, and its appeal remained, but you were too afraid of the repercussions. If the gentlemen were to think of you as a lady without any manners, all it would do was put your upbringing up for question, something your parents did not deserve whatsoever.

You also considered spreading gossip about the men coming to introduce themselves, which would scare your mother off them immediately, ensuring they were never to return by your parents’ preference. But it felt cruel to make up such lies. You were sure that in other circumstances, these were perfectly fine men. At this particular moment, you just happened to despise them and everything they stood for.

Perhaps the most appealing option was to simply not attend the audience. To run away and never to return… at least until the afternoon, once all the men had lost all their patience. But that would only cause you more trouble.

The ideas rolled around your head for the rest of the day, even once the suitors sat opposite you in the room. It was all incredibly dull, if not just mortifyingly humiliating, with your mother sitting only across the room, occupying herself with a book, or so it seemed because she most definitely was listening to the conversations attempted on your part.

‘So,’ as most of the dialogues began, the Lord whose name you already forgot spoke, clearing his throat, ‘I hear you read.’

‘Yes, ' you said, blinking to avoid staring too blankly at the wall behind the man, ignoring the balding patch atop his head.

‘Grand,’ he smiled, somehow satisfied with your response already.

‘Do you… ride?’ you asked, hoping that at the least your mother heard your attempts at making a connection and would release you from this torment soon enough on the principle of your good sportsmanship.

‘No, God no, horses are far too beastly for my liking, unless we are speaking of the track, of course.’ The man scoffed, ‘However, I prefer more dignified activities, such as hunting.’

‘Of course, you do,’ you smiled, but the expression never reached your eyes. ‘What about chess? Do you play?’

‘I do not have the patience to commit to such silly games.’

Patience, you thought, or intelligence? And how ironic of him to speak of perseverance. You watched him take another small sandwich from the tea tray provided on a side table, which you were taught to ignore so as not to be observed as “gluttonous”. After all, no one wanted to marry a lady that ate all day.

Considering that, you grabbed a plate and a piece of cake from the top of the tray and bit into it. The soft sponge melted on your tongue. In the meantime, you were asked a question, but you could not possibly answer with a mouthful of cake, could you? Once you had finished, you considered grabbing a second portion, but you could feel the judgmental look of your mother digging into the back of your head.

You put the plate back down and your hands on your lap.

‘I’m sorry, my lord, could you repeat the question, please. I fear I may have lost myself for a moment.’ And so, it continued. Thankfully, the man excused himself not long after, thanking you and your mama for the time, just for his seat to be replaced with someone else almost immediately. This time, the gentleman was significantly younger, with thick hair atop his head and charming eyes, but the second he spoke, you knew this would not reach much further than the comfort of this room. At the least, you did not see this relationship going any further than any of the other acquaintances you had made that day.

By lunchtime, you felt your eyes burning with fatigue, possibly caused by a constant suppression of tears. How much more could you possibly take of this torture?

‘Mr Elton was quite a charmer, was he not?’ Your mother commented as she sipped her tea.

You suppressed your initial thought, rephrasing it to cause less offence, ‘He is too stubborn and self-centred. He barely let me speak a single word, too occupied by his own achievements to expect me to have any.’

‘Well, Lord Frankworth seemed to care very much for what you had to say.’

‘Only because he barely managed to string any thoughts together himself,’ you sighed.

Your mother tightened her grip on the teacup before smiling. ‘Soon enough, we will find you a perfectly fine young man, dear. You just have to remain open-minded.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Speaking of, your next suitor should be here shortly.’

You did everything in your power not to groan at the announcement and instead nodded politely. ‘Who is it?’

‘Mr Harrington, the one your father was so keen on you meeting.’

‘Ah,’ yes, the American. The only thing that gave you some slight hope in the situation was that Mr Harrington had already spent plenty of time in the company of your father and brother Nicholas and had seemingly gained their blessing. But nothing could help you gain the energy to entertain yet another man with polite conversation. The sun had been beaming into the room since the early morning, only growing warmer and warmer, making the hairs at the small of your neck stick.

‘Will you just excuse me for a moment, mother.’ You got up.

‘Is something wrong?’ She looked suspicious but with a glint of worry in her eye.

‘I am quite fine, just require some fresh air, I think,’ which was not entirely a lie.

‘Alright then, just make haste, child.’ Mr Harrington was on his way, after all. ‘We do not want to keep the man waiting.’

‘Of course not,’ you smiled, heading towards the door. When the large panels closed behind you, you picked up your skirt and ran toward the gardens. Your footsteps echoed through the corridors, and you caught several members of the house staff glancing your way with inquisitive looks.

Ever since you could remember, the grounds around Ridlington Park had a fantastical power about them. It had been the turf on which you would spend countless childhood summer days playing games with your siblings, whether the competitive or imaginary type. But no matter what the six of you could think of, your favourite game would always remain Hide and Go Seek. The gardens were a perfect place for it, with endless nooks and crannies one could disappear into. It was nearly a giant maze, and you had mastered it from a very young age. Whilst most got lost between the shrubbery and flowers, you knew exactly where you had found yourself.

There were plenty of hiding spots you enjoyed over the years, some that to this day remain a mystery to the rest of your family, but nonetheless, it was the stables you adored the most. It was a safe haven for you on many days, to the point that you had nearly become invisible to the staff working there.

The stables were located in the far east corner of the grounds, and the walk towards it already cost more time than you had if you had ever planned on returning that quickly. Undeniably, there was a pinch of shame and guilt nipping at your heart towards the strange Mr Harrington, but that soon dissolved when you heard the neighing of Barley Sugar, a golden-brown mare you proudly called yours. A gift and result of a successful business trade made by your father years ago, the horse technically belonged to all of the Byrnwick children, as much as any of the other horses under the family’s possession, but the bond between you and that particular horse just turned out to be that much stronger.

This was visible as soon as you entered the stable. Barley Sugar went wild at your presence, happily swinging her head from side to side.

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ you grinned, petting the horse, who leaned into your touch immediately. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’

But your plans were quickly interrupted by a voice. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’

❀❀❀

An average sea voyage from the Americas to England should take approximately 16 days, considering the weather corresponds with the sails of the ship. During this journey, passengers would most likely endure days upon days of heavy and tall waves bashing across the ship’s sides, and that is to be expected in favourable conditions.

As Lord Byrnwick and his eldest had boarded the ship headed to London, the sky had been bright blue, and it did not change far beyond that. There was, of course, a risk for the two of them to sail across the world as they did, them being head of the family and its heir. A journey such as this one can go awry in many ways, and if it were not for the dangers of seafaring, there were the Anglo-American tensions to consider. After all, the previous year's war was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and one could not be careful enough when entertaining both sides. Luckily for the Byrnwicks, they were not of the superstitious kind, and good fortune had always seemed to be in the family’s favour up until the very moment they stepped on the boat to return home, many years beyond that.

Ever the convivial one, the most considerable success of the trip, according to Lord Byrnwick, was not the business or diplomatic aspects of their ventures but the social. The man immensely enjoyed meeting other like-minded spirits from across the pond, and there had been plenty of fine nights at gentleman’s clubs spent over fine spirits and betting games, discussing all sorts of topics and exchanging information on all subjects. Promises were made to keep in touch whilst arrangements were made for more future meetings. It was only the polite thing to do.

But aside from acquaintances and business partners, an addition to the household had also been made. Of some sort, that is, for it seemed that the two had found a new groom in America.

Now, Gentle Reader, do not conclude of the worst, as the groom we speak of is not the sort one is meant to meet at an altar but the kind who spends his days tending the horses and carriages. The young man, Mr Munson, had been doing precisely that when the Byrnwick heir stumbled upon his conveyance services in town, in dire need of transport for his regular means, which had already been occupied by his father for the day. It was an encounter by utter chance but certainly one with greater consequences.

Several days later, coincidentally, a letter from London had arrived. Five pages long, each written by a member of the family recounting their most notable memories of the week. The children spoke of the ton's gossip and anecdotes of what occurred at home. Mother, however, took it upon herself to write of more important matters regarding the household. Many topics had to be discussed, but in the middle of her letter, there was mention of the unfortunate passing of the family’s barn manager, Mr Falstipp. It was an unexpected death, leaving the entire house in shock as the man had been working for the family for longer than the children had been alive. But it also resulted in the question of what was to be done now?

It was likely only because the interaction had been so fresh in his mind that Nicholas suggested finding a replacement for Mr Falstipp here in America. This was an unusual offer, as his father commented, especially since they would not leave for home until another few days, but that was to be resolved by having the footmen take care of the horses for the time being. Besides, Nicholas was sure his siblings would be more than happy to help with the chores.

The next day, he returned to the public stables and immediately noted how much cleaner they seemed than any other in town. The horses also looked exceptionally well taken care of and content.

Mr Munson had just been feeding a colt when Nicholas eagerly announced, ‘Mr Munson, may I offer you a proposition?’

This, to no surprise, startled the other man for various reasons. ‘Sir?’

‘This must be a peculiar request, but you see, as of recently, my family has found itself in need of a new stablehand and from what I have seen you do, you, sir, would be the perfect candidate.’ Nicholas had the smile of a man losing his sanity, but his words could not be more genuine.

‘Your family—’ Munson blinked, ‘you mean in London.’

‘Yes, and I understand that this might be a problem, but trust me when I say that you will most certainly find England to your liking, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’

‘As you wish,’ Nicholas agreed.

Eddie pondered over the offer for a short moment. It would have taken him no time to decide if it was not for what he was to leave behind, but he knew that his current employer would be able to find his replacement in no time, as jobs in town were hard to come by.

But what must have been even more challenging to obtain was a ticket out of the wasteland he called home. For years, he had dreamt of an escape, never imagining it to be possible, and suddenly, here comes this stranger offering it to him on a silver platter.

It would be terrifying to move so far away, he knew that, with many risks, but the further away he could manage to go from where he was now, the better.

Eventually, after a minute of silence that left Nicholas restless and on the verge of embarrassment, Eddie smiled: ‘It would be my pleasure to work for you, sir.’ And he had meant that wholeheartedly. While it had only been a short few interactions that he had had with the man, the young Mr Byrnwick had already shown Eddie far more kindness than any of his prior employers, or any other man in his life, for a fact. Most importantly, the man knew nothing about Eddie’s past, which must have been the biggest selling point in the life-changing choice.

‘Marvelous. You will not regret this, Eddie.’ Nicholas leaned in to shake his hand, only to realise that Eddie was still carrying the giant bucket of feed. ‘Well, we shall finalise everything on the boat, shall we?’ And so they did.

A week later, Eddie found himself still in shock at his circumstances. He could not believe he was really to be leaving for England until the moment he set foot on the boat, and even once the sails had set and the American coast was nothing but a grim line on the horizon, the fact did not seem to settle in his mind just yet.

Over the next 16 days, he had encountered the Byrnwicks only a handful of times. First, to meet Lord Byrnwick who, as head of the household, wanted a final say on the matter. A bit late, thought Eddie, as the boat had long departed the harbour by then, but his ticket had already been paid for, and thus, he had little else to complain about. He had quickly made peace with the idea that he could make his new life across the ocean work no matter the circumstances. He had done it before, so what is one more homeless night under a new sky?

But the lord seemed all too happy to have found his staff replacement. Overall, the man was nothing like Eddie had expected a gentleman of English high society to be. From his previous experiences, the type often was rather conceited and arrogant, with a transparent opinion of anyone below their class. His new employer and his son, while undoubtedly lordly, had a modest nature about them. Quickly, Eddie had also gathered that the spontaneity with which Nicholas Byrnwick had called upon him for a job opportunity was not uncharacteristic of him, as the young man was rather energetic in his step and impulsive in his actions.

But no matter how unassuming the men were, they did belong to a different rank of man and, therefore, stayed on the boat to the upper decks, engaging with the rest of their kind.

The travel moved on slowly, but in the end, it was also a mere blink of an eye moment, and before he had realised it, Eddie had reached the shores of England. It was another day or two of travel to be done by horse. A carriage had been acquired for Nicholas and his father, but Eddie and the rest of the staff that travelled with the family for their adventure rode on horseback. No matter how much Eddie enjoyed the form of transportation, it was a tiring experience after several hours, but it also allowed him to meet the people he was to work with and, through that, those he would work for.

‘So, what is the rest of the family like,’ he asked Mr Trowbridge, the lord’s valet. If there was anyone who could tell Eddie something, it would be this man.

‘Well,’ Mr Trowbridge had a particularly nasal tone about his voice that especially came forward at the beginning of his sentences, ‘I do not believe there is much to tell. They are as any other family, really.’

‘My good man, you can hardly expect me to believe there is nothing worth telling about these people,’ Eddie laughed. ‘If it puts your mind at ease, I am only asking for the simplest facts—nothing to interest my fancy.’

The valet pondered over this for a moment. ‘Very well. You have, of course, met the Viscount and his eldest.’ He took a moment for Eddie to respond with a nod in agreement. He then took another moment to consider his following words. The longer he took, the more keen Eddie felt to suggest what to speak of.

‘What about Lady Byrnwick?’

‘Lady Byrnwick is most amiable and has a very caring character, but you will not find her in the stables often unless she is searching for her children.’

‘Not fond of horses, is she?’

‘Rather the outside—-’ Trowbridge cleared his hair vigorously. ‘In the sense that the sun and pollen often leave her poorly. But the children…’ he punctuated his half-sentence with a heavy sigh.

‘They are a handful?’ Eddie assumed. To this, Trowbridge searched for another description but found himself lacking the vocabulary, leading to a confirmation.

‘I have worked for this family for nearly three decades, and I will assure you that each member is as proper a member of society as the next. While boisterous, they have been taught to be independent individuals.’ The valet's tone made Eddie consider how much of their good decorum was in gratitude for the man’s own intervention and guidance.

‘At 27 years, Nicholas is the eldest, and the responsibilities of this role are one of the few aspects of his life which he takes seriously, I cannot put any doubt behind that.’ Indeed, whilst extremely impetuous, the heir’s son also understood the duties of his position and towards his family.

‘Then there is Christopher. The boy has immense athletic abilities but not much beyond that. For a young man of his age of five and twenty, one would assume he would be able to compose himself with a bit more propriety, but it is very difficult for him. He is adventurous and rarely can sit still for an extended period of time, including his mouth. It is suggested that people be careful of what they say around the man.

‘The eldest daughter, Annabelle, married just before we had departed for America, thus is now the lady of her own house.’ Something in his tone suggested he was sad to see the young woman leave home. This possibly has to do with the fact that Miss Annabelle (Now known as Duchess Annabelle Ramsbury) was the most dutiful and respectful of the six children. ‘The marriage had been long overdue as she had just turned 22 on the day of the ceremony, but a love match was found nonetheless.’ The valet guffawed with pride. It was clear to Eddie that, while considering them a nuisance, the man cared deeply for the family he served.

‘I must admit, Trowbridge,’ Eddie chuckled in this horse’s trot pattern over the uneven paths. ‘When you began speaking of the family, I had imagined the children to be… well, children.’

‘How old are you, Munson?’ Trowbridge asked, somewhat bluntly.

‘Twenty, sir.’ Perhaps closer to his next birthday than the last.

‘Ah, just the age of the second daughter then,’ he nodded in agreement. ‘She may perhaps be the most… rebellious of the kin. It is all in good spirit, as you must imagine, and I am sure the interest in such nonsense will dwindle as she matures. She is also the most fond of the family horses; thus, you will see her quite often, I expect. But as her sibling, she has mastered the care for the animals as well as the equipment.’

As he spoke of your skills, something about Trowbridge's expression communicated particular dismay to Eddie. ‘Is that bad? For a young woman to know how to carry herself around a horse?’ He, for one, certainly did not see a problem in it. On the contrary, it was an instrumental skill to develop for anyone.

‘It is not exactly lady-like, is it?’ Trowbridge spoke as if that was the only relevant argument on the matter. Eddie had learned from a very young age that some opinions were better left unsaid, and seeing him as the senior in age and position, Eddie thought it unwise to argue with the valet on his first official day of employment. He instead simply nodded in understanding. Instead, he opted to continue the civil interrogation—

‘What of the youngest two? What are they like?’

‘Fitzwilliam is a dapper fellow. He is but seventeen, but very accomplished, though I cannot say he knows how to put his acquired skills to good use. He has ambitions that cannot be denied; it is just a question of whether these ambitions can ever be met.

‘And lastly, we have Miss Marjorie. A darling girl, I assure you,’ Trowbridge stated. I can only suggest not letting her size fool you, Munson. She has managed to wrap her family around her little fingers the moment she learned to mumble a word, leaving her to cause quite the ruckus for the past eleven years.’

‘I do not see how that involves me, Sir,’ Eddie said. By this time, the sun had begun to set over the fields they passed, and soon, the company would break for their overnight travels at a nearby inn.

‘It had come to my attention over the years that Mr Falstipp–the previous groom, that is— had been quite lenient on the children and their usage of the horses. This has caused a number of incidents that I would rather not see a repetition of.’

‘Understood.’

‘I am unaware of your er– American customs,’ the valet began his lecture, ‘but you must also know that here, ladies are not to ride unaccompanied—something that has been protested in the family to no avail, but it is simply the procedure. There must always be a chaperone nearby to supervise, whether that is a senior member of the family or an entrusted member of the household.’

‘I do not expect to have gained that trust just yet,’ Eddie said earnestly.

‘But let us hope you will.’ The smile Trowbridge gave Eddie was kind at first glance, but the movement of his eyes that inspected him told an entirely different story. He knew he still had much to learn about navigating himself around the kinds of people that were the Byrnwicks, even those who worked for them. The moment he set foot on English soil, he knew it would be challenging to fit in if he ever planned to do so.

The truth is that he did not plan such a change. For you see, Dear Reader, Mr Eddie Munson was also a radical. He did not believe in adapting to society, which was visible in his entire being. One can also imagine the struggle he had to endure when given a uniform to wear. Frankly, the ensemble did not differ much from how the man dressed himself before, but the simple fact that he was told to wear this particular set of clothing upset him severely.

On the first day after his arrival at Ridlington Park, he had managed to justify himself out of dressing in the required clothing by claiming that the trousers were a smidgen too tight. Without another size available, he was told to wear the clothes on his back until the new, fitted attire arrived.

But the clothes did not even begin to reach the problem of the horses he was meant to care for.

Turned out, while he had been given all sorts of warnings against the family, what Eddie should have been preparing for was the beasts that homed the stables. The stubborn animals would not let him touch them, and any attempts were met with angry stares and stomping of the hooves.

‘Easy, there,’ Eddie spoke as softly as he could, taking small steps in any direction that would not enrage the stallion whom he was currently attempting to feed. White Liquorice, a white Arabian, was undoubtedly an animal worthy of a viscount, and from the moment he had stepped into the Ridlington Park stables, Eddie knew that the Kentucky Saddlers and Quarter Horses he grew up with were no match for these and he would quickly have to learn to get on with them if he was to stay here.

Yes, the first days were hard, but not even one week later, he had gotten used to the rhythm of operations. It helped that, working as the barn manager, he was the one in charge and mostly left alone. Mr Trowbridge had visited him to ensure he was adjusting to the new working conditions, which was kind, but besides that, Eddie rarely saw anyone but footmen requesting the carriage to be prepared for the family.

That is until one afternoon when he heard the doors open and someone walking inside. He had been around the corner of the stables, cleaning some grooming tools.

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ he heard the intruder speak. It was soft and gentle, most likely referring to one of the horses. Immediately, Eddie was reminded of one of the conversations shared with Lord Byrnwick’s valet. He swiftly got up from his seat and immediately found the culprit.

He watched you pet one of the horses—Barley Sugar, was it—-petting her in a way he had not yet managed to do confidently. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’ These words triggered him to jump into action.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ He stepped forward, but his words startled you, causing you to turn around. As you did so, your foot got caught in an old set of bridles Eddie had still planned on detangling and putting away. The surprise coming with the unexpected presence of someone else, combined with the awkward position of your foot, led you to fall over with a shriek.

Eddie cursed under his breath as he watched you huff on the ground. ‘Let me help you,’ he extended his hand to you, ‘and my apologies, it was not my intent to—’

‘Who are you?’ you said in a tone that could only be deemed skittish, if not directly fearful, but not enough to deny his offer to help you stand. Your reaction was validated as you had never met the man standing before you. You eyed him up and down, and the more details you noticed, the more you were sure that you had just stumbled upon a robbery, nay, a kidnapping.

The man's presentation spoke for itself, truly. His long hair was dark and unkept, well over his shoulders. His clothes were nothing like the workers around your house were meant to dress like, making him stick out like a very sore thumb. The trousers were old and worn, and the shirt was loose over his upper body, revealing—oh god, was that a tattoo?

It was clear this is how you were to die.

‘Are you here to steal my horses?’ you blurted out before you could think.

‘What?’ He blinked. ‘No, please, listen—’ but you did no such thing. Instead, you did the only thing a lady in distress could do.

You screamed bloody murder.

‘Help! Anyone! Help—’ you would have kept on going, shouting over his attempt at reason until he finally shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth, his other hand sturdily over your upper arm. The two of you stood there for a moment, chests both heaving in all forms of panic, listening for footsteps or any other presence, but the only sound was the soft breathing of the animals around you.

‘I will let go now, miss,’ Eddie said slowly. Both your eyes were wide from the uncultivated situation that had just occurred. ‘And I will explain everything to you, just, please—and I beg you— do not scream.’ You nodded your head beneath his palm in agreement. Eddie counted to three as he stepped back and finally let go of you. Despite him never blocking your airways, you inhaled deeply.

‘There is absolutely no reason to panic, ma’am.’ His accent was distant, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. His eyes, large and dark, locked you in, almost making you lose count of the lingering feeling of his hands on your body. He had given you a moment before he continued speaking, ensuring that you would not resume your screaming or make a run for it.

‘What is your reason of being here?’ You inquired.

‘I work here. Have been, for the past week. I think it was your brother, in fact, that gave me the position. We met on his travels.’

Now, come to think of it, you remembered your family's conversation on the day your father and brother returned. There had been talk of new staff—a young man they had brought along with them from America as an official replacement for the late Mr Falstipp. But that did not explain his attire.

‘You could be fired for breaking the dress code alone, you know. Not to mention for the, uhm, actions you had just performed.’ You commented.

‘Well, you can always report me, miss.’ Eddie, against all his better judgement, smiled.

‘Maybe I should.’ Your heart was still pounding, and you felt so disoriented that even a simple smile made your head spin. ‘What is your name?’

‘Eddie.’

‘Well, Mr Eddie—’ you began, just to be quickly interrupted.

‘No, just Eddie.’ Eddie shook his head.

‘What do you mean? Do you have no family name?’ You had heard of men bringing in street urchins to work for them, but surely, this man was too old for such charity. And you could not imagine your brother to perform such acts of kindness anyway.

‘I do.’ His smile only widened in amusement at the conversation. ‘Eddie Munson.’

‘My, is it usual in America to introduce oneself like that?’ Never had you heard of a man introducing himself by only his first name, let alone a byname.

‘It is usual to me,’ he quipped, ‘And it is more common than not introducing yourself at all.’ The way in which he looked up at you from under his lashes felt accusatory, but you could not find it within you to be upset at the critique, so you gave him your name instead.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Miss Byrnwick.’ He gave you a small, polite bow that reminded you more of how children play Lord and Lady rather than a gentlemanly act. Next thing you knew, a smile was pulling at the corner of your lips, and a small giggle was ready to escape.

For some reason, you hesitated to say your following words: ‘It is a pleasure, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ While always respecting the titles of others, Eddie never saw himself as one to follow such formalities.

‘That is most improper.’ You held back the urge to scoff.

‘But I insist.’ There was something in the corner of his eye that you managed to catch a glimpse of—this spark that no sunlight or fire could match. It was pure mischief, a spirit of chaos. But still, to call a man you barely knew by his first name was simply not right. Your family may jest as they please about your rebelling attitude to primitive customs, but you had to admit that some things ought to be done in a proper manner. And this was certainly not it.

However, Mr Munson saw it in another light but did not find enough of an interest in the subject enough to argue it further. Rather, he cleared his throat briefly and observed you for a moment.

How silly you must look in your fancy dress! Your hair was done up to match, and your shoes were most likely covered in mud. There was also no doubt that he had overheard you talking to your horse about running away. You had good faith that he could connect the pieces to form the complete picture.

A bird flew past a window, making you glance past Eddie’s shoulder in haste.

‘I hope I am not keeping you from any other plans, miss?’ He finally asked. Could you be so bold as to admit that he was saving you from other commitments by conversing with you?

‘No, of course, not Mr Munson,’ you persisted. ‘I am simply cautious.’ Come to think of it, your screams must have been heard all around the grounds. If those who heard, in turn, had an ounce of common sense amongst them, they would have called for someone in the house. If that was the case, your mother would be here momentarily, and then it was back to the house for you. All you could do now was hide.

‘May I ask what are you being cautious of?’ Eddie followed you with his eyes as you walked through the stables, looking for a hiding spot.

‘If you must know, I am currently on the run,’ you stated while looking over a haystack in the far corner.

‘Ah, so whilst you had accused me of being a criminal, it was you who had been committing the crimes then? Should I now scream for help?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, ' you said, attempting to climb the hay to get past it. ‘I have already brought much too much attention to myself.’ Your foot slipped, making you tumble back down to the ground. The accident made you stop for a moment before attempting to climb again, looking over your shoulder at the man. ‘Are you not going to even try and stop me?’

‘Oh,’ it was as if he had awakened from a deep thought or had just realised that what you suggested was exactly what he ought to do. ‘Well, would you listen if I told you not to climb up there?’

You pondered his question for a short moment. ‘No, I highly doubt it.’ Thus, you resumed your climbing. As you did, you heard the shuffling of his feet behind you. The next time you slipped up, this time from a far higher distance, he had been in precisely the right place to catch you in his arms.

‘I cannot assure you I will be able to catch you once more, so it is in good conscience that I suggest you stop, ma’am,’ he said as you got back to your feet.

‘You are right,’ you admitted. Then you realised just how close the two of you stood and quickly occupied yourself by looking for another hiding place. That is when you noticed it. You had spent years in this stable and knew every inch of the space, yet… ‘Have you moved things around?’ You looked back at Eddie.

‘Only a little. I’m afraid my predecessor did not have a flair for organisation,’ he explained.

‘That may be so, but I would prefer you would put things back as they were.’

‘Excuse me?’ Eddie could not help but laugh at the demand.

‘Your new floor plan has completely disoriented me, ' you admitted. ‘It is unbecoming.’

‘My apologies. I will be sure to put things back as they were, then.’ His laugh still echoed his words.

You had not expected him to actually agree to this request. ‘You will?’ But quickly, you regained your composure and tried to hide the surprise in your voice. ‘Very well, thank you. Then, since you have discarded all of my possible hiding locations, what do you suggest I should do?’

‘I suggest you run.’ But it was not Eddie who had answered you.

‘Mother, ' you gasped. What was it, in God’s good name, with everyone sneaking up on you today? Lady Byrnwick stood at the threshold of the stables with her arms crossed. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she took a step inside. You prepared yourself for a disciplinary outburst, but instead, your mother focused on the man standing next to you.

‘You must be Mr Munson.’ The kindness in her voice was laughable. The overcompensation of her kindness threw both you and Eddie off.

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ You noticed that he bowed his head in a much more orderly fashion than he had done to you.

‘I hope my daughter has not been too much of a nuisance.’

‘Not at all.’ Eddie politely replied.

‘Good, good. Well, I can already see that my son did a good job in finding you,’ she stated as she looked around the retouched interior. ‘And I hope that you will grow to enjoy England.’

‘I’ve had nothing to complain of yet.’ Eddie proudly said with that smile of his, and for a moment, you thought to have caught his eyes on you for just a second. Your mother nodded along with his words in satisfaction, but this cheeriness dissipated as soon as she directed herself to you.

‘Has your headache cleared, dear?’ Her eyes were spitting fire.

‘Yes, mother.’

‘Then we will be on our way.’ She stepped aside, giving you room to walk outside. ‘Goodbye, Mr Munson.’ Eddie had become the unintentional victim of the venom that perferred your mother's words.

He was polite enough to look away as you made your shameful walk through the aisle between the horses’ stalls, but you couldn’t help but look behind you one final time as you left and catch his favourable grin. What a peculiar man he was, indeed—one whose presence you immediately began to miss.

Perhaps that was because of the company you were in at the time.

‘Have you gone completely mad?’ Your mother scowled. ‘Mr Harrington has been waiting for well over half an hour.’

‘He is still here?’ You stopped in your tracks. This day could not have gone any worse. It seemed like everything you had been doing was working in your favour.

‘Yes, so you better come up with a clever excuse for your tardiness as I will not be embarrassed any longer. I swear, have you no shame?’

‘I am truly sorry mother, I had lost track of the time.’

‘Doing what exactly? What were you doing in the stables, exactly? Considering you had told me you were going out for some fresh air.’ Yes, the air around the horses was not exactly to be called “fresh.”

Unfortunately, you had no satisfying answer to any of your mother’s questions. Come to it, you yourself were unsure what exactly had brought you there in the first place, not to mention what made you stay. It must have been a sense of child-like naivete to think you could hide from your problems the way you attempted.

Problems that were coming closer as Mr Harrington walked towards you through the aisle of hyacinths that grew all around you in various colours.

‘What is he doing here?’ you mumbled towards your mother.

‘Considering the lovely weather, I had offered for us to sit out in the gardens.’ Your mother spoke out loud. That is when you noticed the set table and chairs under a large parasol on the patio.

‘I hope you do not mind. I took the initiative of taking a stroll in your absence.’ Mr Harrington spoke in a cadence that would have been new to you if not for the fact that you had spent the last hour in the presence of a very similar tone.

‘Of course, not,’ your mother had regained her ability to smile. ‘May I introduce my daughter.’ And so she did.

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. I completely lost track of time.’ You apologised and were ready to offer your hand to Mr Harrington when you noticed how filthy your gloves had become. In a panic, you pushed both your hands behind your back, trying to distract the man with a wide grin.

‘The important thing is that we are all here now,’ he manoeuvred, which you could not help but agree with, then led you to the patio.

The next hour went by faster than you had ever imagined it would. Mr Steve Harrington turned out to be not only a great conversationalist but a rather fascinating one at that. It was only a fault of your own that you were distracted for a larger part of the conversation. There was simply something about the man’s brown eyes that constantly reminded you of somewhere else. He was very charming and, abiding by your brother’s promises, had a great, though perhaps somewhat awkward, wit. It seemed that his confidence, once clearly overt, had been lowered, causing him to stumble over his words at times and laugh at his own mistakes in a deprecating manner, but never enough to make it a bother in your eyes. Truly, it was all rather endearing.

But you could not, for the life of you, figure out what exactly caused these fumblings in his character, as nothing seemed to be particularly wrong with the man. Though you did not see him as an academic or scholar of any sort, from the way he spoke, you could tell he was one of the more clever men you had the fortune of meeting. And his looks were certainly no topic of discussion either. He was tall and lean, with a wonderful smile and soft brown hair that apparently was more common than imagined, as were those dark eyes and the way he held you in his arms—

You took a sip of the cold water as Mr Harrington expressed his gratitude to your mother for the audience and made sure the message would be conveyed to Lord Byrnwick, too. You nodded and smiled along. Even when he bid you farewell and bowed his head, your mind was elsewhere. As if expecting something to emerge from behind the hyacinths, you could not help but glance in the Eastern direction of the gardens.

‘See, it was not all that bad, was it?’ your mother immediately said, pulling you back to the patio. By then, Mr Harrington had excused himself and was crossing the patio to the exit from the grounds but had turned briefly for a final goodbye, which you met with a polite wave.

‘No, I suppose you are right, mother.’ You had persevered against all odds. As you watched the gentleman leave, you felt quite content with the meeting—happy, some would even say. The only problem was that you could not make quite clear what, or rather, who brought on this particular mood.

To be continued...

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message.

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justawritterwithideas · 11 months

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law in pink | s.r

♡ previous part | next part ♡

summary: A case takes them to Massachusetts, where you are reunited with your past and the people who carry it.

warnings: a bit of jealousy on Spencer's part, though overall nothing so far in this part.

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,185 words.

a/n: after a while, I finally bring you the third part of law in pink, the truth is that I've been wandering a lot about what to write, but I finally found it. I want to point out that this "chapter" will be divided in two or three parts (I'm not sure yet), to reward you for your time. Without anything else to add, thanks for reading.

Working in the FBI field always ended up surprising you.

Not because every day was a new adventure, with new cases that could border on the edge of human sanity, but because it could bring you face to face with people from your past.

A new case had dragged you to Massachusetts, where you saw old faces you recognized on your way to the police station.

The conversation with Emily was what was stealing your attention, and even more so when it was about one of the topics you dealt with the most, besides the criminal code, and that was hair care. You had recommended a new product to the woman and she was talking to you about how good her hair looked, it even looked shinier than usual from both perspectives.

"I know! Plus, it's not tested on animals and their products are 100% natural, it's like a little bit of paradise in your hands." You commented sipping from your coffee, placed your bag to the side as you watched Spencer walk in with a folder in his hands and well focused on it.

It was no secret that after his gift it had caused the two of you to connect a little more than usual, and everyone could tell with the little love language gestures you each had on each side, like how every morning you gave him his coffee the way he liked it because you had memorized them or how he took care to save you a spot next to him on the jet where the sunlight would hit so your skin would get the vitamin D it needed for the day.

You quickly pushed away the chair that was in front of the map the opposite had drawn up and watched him sit down, returning to your conversation with Emily. Spencer thanked you with a silent gesture, causing you to smile as you listened intently to Emily converse about the difference in her hair from week to week.

But, their conversation was interrupted as Derek and J.J were entering the room with a box of donuts.

"The breakfast express had just arrived, ladies... And Spencer." The smell of frying and sugar made you immediately turn to the table to see that they had found just the donuts you had been chatting about a couple of days ago.

"Are those the gluten-free donuts? I haven't seen them in years, they look just as delicious as when I was here." Your voice let out a soft sound of joy, approaching the one glazed with pink and had a flower drawn on top. "These are the best donuts you'll ever taste, and it's also suitable for the gluten intolerant."

The sweet taste of the donut made you stir as you brought a hand to your mouth in surprise, it was as if the past had just slapped you in the face.

You turned in the direction of Spencer, who looked quite immersed in his work.

"Spencie." The man looked up at your call. You brought the doughnut close to his face and smiled, letting the scent of your 'Miss Dior' perfume permeate his nose. "Try it."

"Ah, no thank you. I am at the moment somewhat busy, Y/N..." His hand was trying to push yours away, plus you kept watching him with that look that caused Spencer to give you the whole world. "B-besides! I'm faithful to my chocolate donut with sprinkles-"

"With sprinkles on top... Come on, Spencer, I'm not asking you to eat it all, just taste it."

The tasting-not tasting fight they were carrying on was interrupted when Hotch walked in where his face showed quite a bit of annoyance.

"What's going on, Hotch?"

"The suspect's lawyer is in the interrogation room." Commented Rossi, who simply modulated 'he's a jerk'.

"He's coming to talk to us now." Finished Hotch, who was heading straight for a cup of coffee but didn't quite reach for it when a rather annoying voice interrupted him.

You didn't know if it was your imagination or the memories of that place that made you cough, the smell of expensive cologne and mint made you push the donut away from your hands. You set it down on a napkin, listening as it echoed back to that voice that once spoke honeyed words to you.

"Agents, a pleasure. I'm defense attorney, Warner Huntington III."

Where was the closest place to hide from that character? You thought, but you wouldn't let the man you used to call "teddy bear" get you down at that moment.

" Lawyer Huntington, this is the BAU team. Agent Rossi, Morgan, Jareau, Prentiss, Dr. Reid and Agent Woods."

Your gaze connected with Warner's, who let out a gasp of surprise at the sight of you.

"Y/N... Wow, it's been a while, darli-"

"It's good to see you, Attorney Huntington." You commented as you watched him from your position.

You watched him approach you, plus Spencer's body made it so he couldn't take any more steps than intended, well... Spencer's leg was the one that separated you, as he stretched his legs out, separating you both just enough so that nothing of your bodies would rub together in any way.

A safe distance for both of them, thanks to Spencer.

"You two know each other?" J.J. asked, who watched intrigued.

"We were coupl-"

"We were part of the same Harvard Law generation, actually. We both graduated, but we took different paths." You lied in front of them, and they could read it when Warner's face grimaced.

It was clear that the two of you had a bond that was more than close, but the way you didn't want them to find out was the answer to resolving that which the others had to find out until you decided to talk about it.

"Rather, both of us-"

"Counselor, what exactly is the reason you're here?" asked Spencer, who watched from his position, with that feigned smile you already knew how to distinguish.

"Ah, yes. I was coming to introduce myself as the defense attorney, as well as discuss the legal issues surrounding my client." He turned to look at Hotch, who was drinking from his cup with that face that the situation displeased him. "I'd like to discuss a few things with Agent Woods, since we both graduated from Harvard and have the same degree from-"

"Actually, Agent Prentiss is also a Criminal Justice graduate, you could discuss with her along with Dr. Reid in addition to Agent Woods."

The way Hotch had cut Warner off made you let out a small chuckle, thanking in the direction of the major, who was simply giving you a discreet wink.

"Yeah, right. Three's better than one, you're right." Warner's voice wavered a bit before he opened his mouth again. "Good, then I'll come by later to discuss these details, they're calling me from the firm, excuse me."

Silence immediately settled in the room, but before they could blurt anything out, you immediately turned in everyone's direction and blurted out.

"I have a good explanation for this, I promise."

♡ first part | previous part ♡

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfic #blurb #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x elle woods!reader #legally blonde is superior #alme was here!

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nanawritesit · 5 months

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Your Highness - Sanji x Reader: Part One

PART TWO PART THREE

plot: you’re a runaway princess bride who finds her way into the straw hat crew. you expected one hell of an adventure, but you never expected to fall for the head chef. things get even more complicated when your father, the king, and your ex-fiancé send their troops after the going merry. now you must choose between surrendering to save your crew and being with the only man you’ve ever truly loved. but of course, the straw hat crew isn’t going to let you go without a fight. especially sanji.

You panted heavily, hands gripped tightly onto your heavy white skirts as you navigated your way through the back alleys of the city. Your hair, which was previously tied up in perfect ringlets behind an intricate headdress, was now flying wildly behind you in loose waves. Suddenly, your heeled shoe snapped beneath you, and you fell to the ground with a thud. Mud splashed up onto your pristine white wedding gown, but you didn’t care. You were more focused on the march of soldiers’ footsteps that sounded off in the distance. You snapped your head around to glance behind you, then got back up on your feet to continue running away, your shoe left discarded in the alleyway. You didn’t know where you were heading, but you knew you had to get far away from the castle.

You never liked being a princess. All the rules and expectations were suffocating. Everyone was always telling you what to do, how to dress, how to act, how to feel… you had no freedom and led an extremely restricted life. You were the eldest daughter of the king, with two older brothers in line for the throne before you. Since birth, it was very clear to you that your only purpose in life was to marry a prince and produce his heirs so that your father could gain an ally. You were merely a pawn in a game that you never even got a turn in, and you were sick of it. You craved adventure. To see the wonders of the great world as they were intended to be explored. To live a life of passion that offered you fulfillment and excitement. That was your dream.

Today was supposed to be your wedding day. Your father had picked a prince for you to marry, and you were to be wed in just an hour. You were not in love with your fiancé, in fact, you’d never even spoken to him before. You only met him once, and that was when your father informed you of your betrothal. He was smug, entitled, and pompous with you the entire time he addressed you, treating you like a trophy or a pet. You decided right then and there that there was no way you were spending the rest of your life married to a man like him. So today, after your ladies’ maids had gotten you dressed and left your quarters, you took your chance to make an escape. You gathered up some gold and a few personal belongings and climbed down the ivy on the side of your ivory tower, making a run for it.

You reached the outskirts of the city along the coast, several long piers stretching out in front of you with huge, royal ships docked along the side of it. They were likely all boats full of nobles who had come as your wedding guests. You rolled your eyes as you scanned over them. Were you ever going to be able to escape the life you were born into? Was this just a foolish attempt of running away? Maybe you should just turn around and surrender to your father. Perhaps the punishment wouldn’t be to severe if you turned yourself in before the wedding.

Just as you were about to give up hope, you noticed an unfamiliar ship with a ram’s head decorating its bow. It was smaller than the other ships, and the crew didn’t look very stately at all. You saw a scrawny boy in a straw hat, a beautiful ginger girl, and a tough-looking moss-haired swordsman on deck, distracted by the map held out in front of them. Then you saw the jolly roger sail along the mast, and realized it was a pirate ship. You figured they were only here to dock ship and gather supplies, then head back out onto the seas. Seeing this as your only chance at escape, you ran towards it with unrelenting speed.

Right as you saw your fathers’ troops turning the corner, you ducked into the opening of the ship. Now in a long, empty hallway, you darted into the first open door you saw, slamming it behind you. You rested your back against the surface and sighed in relief. That was a close call. Perhaps you did have some luck on your side after all!

“I can’t make any food for you until we get more supplies, Luffy.” a man’s voice grunted from around the corner.

Shit, nevermind. You gasped, heart stopping in your chest. Cautiously, you peered around the corner and saw the most gorgeous man you had ever seen at a counter taking inventory. He had a perfect face, beautiful blonde hair, and was sharply dressed in a black suit with a pinstriped shirt and black tie underneath. His long, nimble fingers held a pen in them, swiping over the papers in front of him with quick fervor, pale blue eyes focused on his work.

When he didn’t hear a response from who he assumed was his captain, he glanced up and met your panicked gaze. His eyes widened slightly and his lips parted slightly, seemingly awestruck by you for a few seconds. Then, as if remembering himself, he blinked and clicked his tongue, a charming smile taking place on his expression.

“My my, while it’s always a pleasure to have a beautiful lady in my kitchen, might I ask what you’re doing here madam?” he asked with a flirty lilt to his voice.

You also snapped out of your daze at the sudden question, taking a few slow strides towards the stranger.

“Please sir,” you began, mustering up as much courage and diplomacy as you could. “I’m about to lose my freedom. My dream is to see the world, but I have people chasing after me to lock me back up in my gilded cage. I need to escape this kingdom without anyone knowing where I went.”

He scanned over your appearance, taking in your exquisite wedding gown and intricate jewels.

“My god… you’re a princess aren’t you?” he murmured with a contained gasp.

You nodded reluctantly. “I am Princess Y/N of Dacovia. I’m the eldest daughter of the king, and today is my wedding day. If you just allow me to board your ship, I promise I can make it worth your while.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a handful of gold. “Please captain.”

He smiled once again, putting his hands on his hips as his eyes flickered to the ground. He glanced back up at you and ran a hand through his golden locks. “While I appreciate the formalities your highness, I’m not the captain of this ship. I’m Sanji, the head chef.”

You winced, embarrassed by your groveling. You swallowed hard, then regained your confidence and met his gaze again with a polite smile. “My apologies. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Sanji.” You curtseyed to him.

“The pleasure is all mine, your highness.” he grinned, bowing at the waist. “But there’s no need to call me sir.”

You smiled appreciatively. “Then, there’s no need for you to call me your highness either. Y/N will do. I’m not particularly attached to my title as you can see.”

He chuckled heartily at your joke, cocking his hip forward and crossing his arms. “My, I’ve never met a noblewoman with such a good sense of humor.”

“You’ve met other noblewomen?” you asked perplexedly. You never expected the head chef of a pirate crew to have such connections.

“I used to work at a restaurant in the middle of the East Blue called the Baratie. It was very high class and had an extensive guest list of noblemen and commoners alike. Our motto was to never turn away anyone who was hungry.”

“That’s very admirable.” you complimented him. “Is cooking on a pirate ship your dream?” It was kind of a personal question, but conversation seemed to flow so easily between the two of you that you felt secure in asking it.

“Not exactly.” he laughed, leaning against the counter. “My dream is to find the All Blue. It’s a cook’s paradise, with a vast variety of ingredients from all four seas. I met our captain, Luffy, while working at the Baratie, and he offered me a spot on his crew. All of us are after something in this world, and Luffy wants to help us achieve our dreams.” He walked around the counter and reached for your hand. You gently placed it in his grasp, letting him squeeze it gingerly. “I’m sure if you talk to him, he’ll allow you to join as well.”

You smiled brightly, with such unbridled joy you thought you might burst. “Oh, thank you Sanji!” You couldn’t contain yourself any longer, and threw your arms around him in a tight hug.

He let out another contained gasp, then reciprocated your affections with a lighthearted chuckle. He pulled away after embracing you, putting his hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eyes.

“It’s no trouble, your highness. It’ll be nice to have another beautiful woman on board.” he grinned flirtatiously. “I’ll go fetch Captain Luffy.”

You nodded, watching him retreat into the hallway. “I told you, you don’t have to call me your highness.”

He paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at you. “I know. It just suits you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Being a princess doesn’t suit me at all.”

“Maybe not being a royal princess…” he proposed. “But perhaps you could be the princess of the Going Merry.”

——————

“A princess? You’re joking, right?” a female voice rang out down the hallway. You jumped in your seat at the counter, startled at the sudden break of silence.

“Oh man, I’ve gotta see this.” a gruff, sarcastic male voice commented.

“There’s no way she’s prettier than Kaya.” another, more lighthearted male voice added.

“Come now, just give her a chance.” you heard Sanji bargain with them. “You’ll like her Luffy. She’s got that certain spark, you know?”

You braced yourself for meeting the captain. You hadn’t seen any pirate captains in real life before, but the stories you read painted them as enourmous, swarthy men with long beards and dirty teeth. You gulped, gathering all of your courage to face the fearsome leader of the Going Merry.

The door swung open, and you locked eyes with the scrawny boy in the straw hat that you saw on the deck. Your eyes widened. He was the captain?

Sanji entered behind him, as well as the pretty ginger girl and the stoic swordsman you saw earlier, and a strong-looking, darker-skinned man as well.

Sanji smiled warmly as his eyes met yours. “Princess Y/N, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to the crew. This is our navigator Nami, our first-mate Zoro, warrior and storyteller Usopp, and finally… Captain Monkey D. Luffy.”

“Hi Y/N!” the captain beamed, stretching his hand out in front of him.

You just stared at it in confusion. No one had ever initiated a handshake with you. You didn’t even know how to reciprocate it. You began to panic. Were you already going to blow your chance at escaping?

Suddenly, Sanji gently picked up your arm and guided your hand towards Luffy’s. Luffy wrapped his fingers around your palm, thumb hooked with yours, and you did the same back to him. Sanji tilted your elbow up and down to shake the captain’s hand. You looked over at him, mouthing a silent thank you.

“So, I’m told you want to join the Straw Hat Crew?” Luffy asked with an excited grin. “Why’s that?”

You exhaled, collecting your thoughts before answering the captain. “Captain Luffy, as Sanji may have already told you, I am Princess Y/N, eldest daughter of the royal family of Dacovia. I’m about to be married against my will to a prince I don’t love, so I ran away from the castle. Soldiers are currently trying to hunt me back down. I know I was born into a life of immense privilege, but I don’t want to be a princess. I want to see the world and experience life as my own woman. I might not have a lot of skills that would be valuable on a pirate crew, but if you just allow me to stay with you, I can make it worth your while.” You opened up your purse and showed him all the gold that you had brought. Nami and Zoro’s eyes widened, but Luffy seemed unfazed.

“That’s very nice, but payment won’t be necessary.” Luffy smiled brightly. “The Going Merry is a ship of dreams. All of our crew is here to achieve their greatest desire.” He began to point to the members as he listed them. “Nami here wants to draw a map of the world. Zoro is gonna become the greatest swordsman in the world. Sanji will find the All Blue. Usopp there wants to be a brave warrior of the sea. And I…” He jumped up onto the counter and placed his hands on his hips dramatically. “Am gonna become King of the Pirates!” He knelt down and leaned towards you. “Do you believe in us?”

You looked between all the members of the crew. They all seemed so hopeful… so passionate… so brave… your eyes stopped on Sanji. As you looked into his icy blue eyes, you saw a certain sparkle that made you feel certain he would do anything to achieve his dream. Then you glanced back around at the rest of the crew, and saw that same optimistic glint in all of their eyes. You turned back to Luffy, meeting his determined gaze.

“Yes, I do. I believe that everyone in the Straw Hat Crew will do exactly what they set out to do.” you told him with a confident nod.

Luffy gave you the widest grin you’d ever seen, extending his arm towards you. “Then welcome aboard, your highness!”

Your face broke out in an overjoyed smile as you took Luffy’s hand. He pulled you up onto the countertop, making you gasp as he began dancing around with you. Usopp began cheering as well, while Nami let out an amused chuckle. Zoro cracked a content half-smile, which was huge for him.

Suddenly, your foot slipped off the edge of the counter, and you lost your balance. Now tumbling to the floor, your eyes widened as you envisioned your downfall. You squinted your eyes, waiting for the impact as everyone around you gasped worriedly.

Right as you expected to hit the ground, you landed softly in a cushiony embrace. Slowly creaking your eyes open, you were met by Sanji’s gorgeous blue eyes and charming smile hovering overtop of you.

“We’re gonna have to take it easy on her highness for a while guys.” he chuckled, shaking you in his arms playfully. Everyone joined the two of you in laughter, even Zoro.

“Speaking of which, we’re going to have to get you out of that gown.” Nami giggled. “Come with me, I’ll lend you some of my clothes.”

“We’ll get you some shoes when we get our supplies too.” Sanji assured you.

You glanced down at your bare feet. You didn’t know when you lost your other shoe, but you supposed it was useless without its mate anyway.

“Thank you all so very much.” you beamed, glancing between the crew members. “I am truly indebted to all of you.” You looked at Sanji again with admiration, as if to say especially you. He nodded, somehow understanding exactly what you meant.

——————

And so, you set off aboard the Going Merry as the newest member of the Straw Hat Crew!

It was a bit of an adjustment at first.

You shared a room with Nami, as she was the only other girl in the crew. She was a bit rough around the edges at first, but you were able to crack her tough exterior after a while. Deep down, she was actually very sweet and empathetic. Like you, she had just been through a lot. She was certainly glad to have another girl on board to help keep all the boys in line, and the two of you actually became quite close.

Usopp was always happy to entertain you with stories of his “grand adventures.” You had never heard tales of such whimsy and wonder with your stuffy background, and always listened intently and amazedly. Being away from Kaya, there wasn’t anyone else around who gave his stories much attention and awe. Though it wasn’t the same, he did derive a great happiness from your encounters.

Like Nami, Zoro was also pretty distant at first. You began to notice that everyone in the crew had some pretty thick trauma. However, you won him over by buying him plenty of liquor whenever you stopped somewhere with a bar. He also offered to teach you some general sword fighting moves when you expressed how worried you were about not being able to protect yourself. He acted as if it was no big deal, but you could tell he enjoyed having someone to fight with, even if it was just the basics.

Luffy was just as friendly with you as he was with everyone. He would regularly ask you about what your life was like a princess, and what kind of adventures you hoped to encounter at sea with him. You would often sit on the bow together, not having to worry about falling off, because you knew his rubber arms could stretch out and catch you no matter how far you flew. The two of you would gather up a bunch of snacks, courtesy of Sanji, and just talk through the night, staring up at the stars.

Then there was Sanji. He was definitely the member of the crew you were closest with. Not only was he the first one you met, but he was the one who understood your background the best. And, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely captivated by him. You knew it was silly, and that he was charming with just about every girl he met, but you couldn’t help but fall for him. It wasn’t just his perfect smile that made you melt, or his flirtatious attitude. It was his unyielding kindness and understanding. He was forever patient with you, never making you feel like a burden or an inadequate member of the crew.

You actually started out as his assistant, as the crew figured it would be the easiest thing for you to grasp as a newfound pirate. You loved hearing him talk about food and cooking. The passion and excitement in his voice was utterly captivating, and you could tell it all came from a place of genuine contentment. He was always encouraging with you in the kitchen, guiding your hands with his own as he taught you how to chop vegetables properly. You tried to ignore the way his breath blew against your neck, and how he smelled like fresh linen and tobacco, but it was kind of impossible when he was literally pressed up against your back.

Today, Sanji had given you the day off from kitchen duties, saying a pretty lady like yourself deserved to rest every once in a while. So, you were currently just sitting at the kitchen table, writing away in your journal. Finally having the freedom to dress yourself, you had traded your heels for combat boots and your ballgown for a simple white cotton dress and a black leather waist belt, your hair gathered back in one of Nami’s borrowed red bandanas. You had abandoned all of your fancy jewelry, except for a simple string of pearls and some small gold hoops in your ears.

You jumped as the door swung open, revealing a smiling blonde chef.

“Oh, Sanji!” you greeted him. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No, by all means, stay. I could use some good scenery.” he winked, going over to his counter. You couldn’t help the warm blush that crept up your cheeks. You tried to tell yourself it was just how he was, but that was proving to be a futile effort. “What are you doing anyway, my dear?”

“Oh nothing, just writing some poetry.” you explained, gesturing to your journal.

“Really? I didn’t know you wrote poetry.” he asked, beginning to boil some water. “My, you are just full of surprises, your highness.”

You laughed lightheartedly at his banter, slowly shaking off your bashfulness. “It’s just one of those princess habits I can’t seem to shake. I’ve been taught it from such a young age, it’s one of my only outlets. Sometimes I feel like it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

He frowned slightly, shaking his head. “Don’t say that, your highness. You’re good at a lot of things.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you fished, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Well, for starters, you make a wonderful sous chef.” he grinned, peeling some potatoes. “I don’t think I could prepare Luffy’s monstrous portions without your help.”

You giggled, closing up your journal. “Well that’s mostly just you being a great teacher.”

Now it was Sanji’s turn to feel bashful, although he was great at covering it up. “Well, you’ve also got a great sense of humor. I don’t know anyone on the crew who hasn’t cracked up at one of your jokes. You even make Zoro laugh, and he’s a major stick in the mud.”

You chuckled at him, feeling slightly embarrassed at his praise. “Oh Sanji, now you’re just trying to butter me up like I’m one of your entrees.”

“Just being honest, princess.” he shrugged with a cocky smirk. “You’re also very selfless. You’ve been willing to sell a lot of your old jewelry just to get us some extra money for supplies.”

“Eh, I don’t need any of that stuff anymore.” you huffed, waving a hand in the air dismissively.

He set down his peeler and placed both hands flat on the counter, leaning forward and looking at you with a sudden intensity that made you freeze.

“You’re one of the bravest women I’ve ever met. How many princesses have ran away from their weddings and joined a pirate crew?”

You glanced down at the ground, fighting the urge to smile. “Not many, I believe.”

“I’d wager zero.” Sanji retorted. “You know what you want in life, and you’re not afraid to go after it. You’re smart, and kind, and beautiful, so I won’t have you meandering on about your so-called inadequacies, alright?”

You nodded with a small, shy grin. “Yes, chef.”

And on the flip of a dime, his same old playful demeanor returned, and he resumed preparing dinner. He plunked the peeled potatoes into the pot of water and moved onto slicing up the steak.

“I’d love to read your poetry sometime. I’m sure it’s just as lovely as you are.” he mused, glancing up at you momentarily.

“Oh I don’t know…” you muttered, fumbling with the journal in your hands. “I’m not sure it’s any good. The only one who’s ever read it is my governess.”

“Oh? And what did she think of it?” he asked interestedly.

You smiled fondly at the memory of her. “She always told me I was gifted. She was so kind, always commending me on my creativity and passion. She used to call me her poetry princess.”

“She sounds like an amazing lady.” Sanji commented. “Were you fond of her?”

“Oh, most definitely!” you marveled, spinning around in your chair to face him. “She was more of a mother than the queen ever was to me. She was the first person in the world who made me feel like I was more than just a decorative pawn in my father’s game of conquests.”

He chuckled lightly, beginning to prepare his skillet with butter and garlic. “Do you miss her?”

Your eyes landed on your lap as you tried to find the right words. “Very much…” You started to feel a lump form in your throat. It was hard to think about how you had abandoned her. You didn’t regret leaving the kingdom, but part of you did regret leaving her behind.

Sanji seemed to sense your inner turmoil, as he removed his skillet from the stove and walked around the counter towards you. He knelt down in front of you, hooking a finger under your chin and tilting it up to prompt you to meet his eyes.

“I know how difficult it is to leave someone you care for behind.” he explained sympathetically, looking at you with such soft kindness that you felt like you could burst into tears at any moment. “But the thing you have to remember is that they want what’s best for you. They want you to chase after your dreams and live the life you deserve. It might be hard to accept that they don’t need to be a part of it, but their love and hope for you is greater than that.” He brought a thumb up to your cheek to wipe away the stray tears that you didn’t even realize had fallen. “You did what you had to do. And I’m so glad you burst into my kitchen months ago, all tattered and panicked, begging for safe passage. Because the truth is…” He then placed both hands on your cheeks, giving you the warmest smile he’d ever given anyone. “It wouldn’t be the same without you, your highness.”

You smiled through your tears, placing your hands around his and giving them a delicate squeeze. “I’m so grateful for you Sanji. You’ve been so kind to me.”

He grinned contentedly. “It’s my pleasure, your highness.”

You stayed like that for a little while, just holding onto each others hands and smiling at each other. Suddenly, the mood shifted as you noticed his eyes focused on your lips. You mirrored his actions, glancing down at his own lips. They were plump and pretty, a beautiful shade of blush that had you in a trance. His tongue darted between them momentarily.

Your eyes locked in on his for a moment. They were shining with light-blue anticipation, the kind that gave you so much confidence and courage. Both of your eyes darted back to each others lips, and what seemed to be in unison, you began slowly inching forward. You fluttered your eyelids shut in preparation for the connection of your lips…

“Hey Sanji, what are you making for dinner?” Luffy suddenly asked from the doorway.

Sanji squinted his eyes together and let you a frustrated sigh. When he opened them, you shot him a sympathetic smile, one that hid your own discomfort and disappointment extremely well.

“Hey there captain. Tonight’s dinner is grilled steak strips, garlic roasted potatoes, and parmesan crusted asparagus.” Sanji huffed as he walked over to Luffy, who had a clueless grin on his face.

“Awesome! I can’t wait!” the captain beamed, hopping up on the counter. “Oh, hi Y/N! I didn’t see you there!”

“Hi Luffy.” you smiled politely. It was hard to be mad at him when he greeted you so cheerfully. “I was just about to head out, Nami said something about teaching me how to read a map.” you lied.

Sanji shot you a small pout. “Are you sure you have to leave? I could still use some help prepping the ingredients.” He was pleading at you with his eyes to stay. However, things were now too awkward with Luffy walking in on you guys almost kissing, and you just needed to leave the kitchen.

“It’s my day off, remember?” you replied cheekily, making your way over to the exit. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

——————

It had been a week since your almost-kiss with Sanji. Things were undeniably tense between the two of you. You were still friendly with him, and he was as flirtatious as he always was. But you both knew you were avoiding a huge elephant in the room, and neither one of you knew how to bring it up without making things uncomfortable.

It was currently the middle of the night, and you were laying in your hammock-bed staring at the wooden ceiling of you and Nami’s shared bedroom. You were having yet another sleepless night. Every time you started to drift off, you’d immediately be reminded of how you were so close to kissing the guy of your dreams.

You glanced over to Nami’s side of the room, hoping to see her restless so you could talk to her about your dilemma. She was the only one on the crew who knew about your enormous crush on Sanji. However, she was sound asleep in her own hammock.

You exhaled a heavy breath, then threw your blankets off your legs and stood up to leave the room. You obviously weren’t going to fall asleep anytime soon, so you figured you’d stretch your legs a bit.

You ended up crawling your way up into the crow’s nest, as there was currently no one else on deck. You leaned back against the hard, cold wood and gazed up at the stars. It was amazing to think that these were the same stars you looked at from your ivory tower months ago. They seemed so much brighter over the sea.

To fill the silence, you decided to sing one of the songs your governess taught you. You formed a habit of singing it to yourself whenever you were stressed or feeling hopeless. It made you feel calm and grounded.

You tried to be quiet, as everyone else was asleep, but as the song went on you couldn’t help but put more passion into your song. You had always loved singing since you were a child.

Finally your song came to an end, and you were startled by the sound of applause. Your head snapped around to the edge of the crow’s nest. There was Sanji, clapping his hands with an admiring smile.

“You have a lovely voice, princess.” he complimented you, hopping over the barrier to sit down next to you.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, concerned you were singing loud enough to wake the whole crew.

“No, not at all! I was up making myself a late night snack. It helps when I’m having trouble falling asleep.” he explained.

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke. He held one out to you. “Want one?”

You studied it, debating whether or not you wanted it. “I’m not sure, I’ve never smoked before.”

“Here, you can try a puff of mine. See if you like it.” he grinned, handing you his lit cigarette. You cautiously brought it to your lips and began to suck on it. “Just make sure you don’t-“

But he was too late. You were already coughing up a storm, hunched over and pounding on your chest.

“Inhale…” he finished with a chuckle, patting your back .

“God Sanji, how do you smoke those?” you hacked out between coughs. “It’s disgusting, I’m throwing this out!”

“No don’t!” he pleaded, reaching for the cigarette.

But you were too fast, throwing it over the edge of the crow’s nest before he could grab it.

He just looked at you with his mouth agape, the corners of his mouth tilted up in a baffled smirk. “That wasn’t very princess-like of you. I’m starting to think this pirates life is rubbing off on you.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as he just pulled another one out of his pocket and lit it up. “So, you couldn’t sleep either hm?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

He shook his head. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, your highness.”

You chuckled, nudging him with your elbow. “Same here. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about what happened, but I just…”

“Couldn’t find the right words?” he finished your sentence for you.

You nodded, putting your head in your hands and laughing in disbelief at how easily he could read you. “Exactly.”

He leaned back up against the barrier to join you in looking up at the night sky, seemingly in thought. You suddenly felt brave enough to lay your head on his shoulder. You could feel him smiling down at you as you cuddled up closer to him.

“Well, who says we need words?” he asked, turning his head towards you. “Actions speak louder sometimes.”

“Hm?” you asked, sitting up to face him.

He put out his cigarette and tilted your chin up with his forefinger, prompting you to look up at him. He just looked over your features for a moment, taking in the sight before him.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” he told you in an uncharacteristically serious voice. His eyes were like cornflower pools of commendation, fixed upon you with unrelenting intensity.

You just stared back at him, mouth slightly agape at the sudden intimacy of the moment. “Thank you, Sanji…”

“I mean it.” he told you, looking you straight in the eye. “But your beauty is only a fraction of what makes you special. I mean, you’re a talented writer, a beautiful singer, an amazing aspiring chef and swordsman, a good joke-teller, and a selfless, loyal pirate… Is there anything you can’t do, your highness?”

At that moment, it was like a cupid’s arrow had shot you straight through the heart. As a princess, you were always taught that the most important thing for you to be was beautiful. Not smart, not kind, not creative. Your only job was to sit still and look pretty. But with Sanji, all of that was thrown out the window. You got to express every part of your personality that you’d had to hold back for so many years. It was freeing, and it made you feel like your existence was truly meaningful to someone.

Before anyone could possibly interrupt you, you took your chance and pulled him towards you by his black neck tie, crashing your lips against his with everything you had. There was an element of softness to it, but it was just intense enough that he could feel how long you had desired to press your lips to his.

He was frozen for only a second or two, then he gingerly placed a hand upon your cheek, gripping onto it slightly to deepen the kiss.

After a while he pulled back to catch his breath, forehead pressed against yours as you both panted heavily.

“You can add amazing kisser to the list of things you’re good at.” he smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You giggled, placing your hand over his. “With you around, my list will become a mile long.”

“As it should be.” he told you, going back in for another kiss. This one was more passionate, his free hand moving to your waist to hold you in place. Your hands went up to his shoulders, gripping onto them tightly as if you could fly away at any second.

His tongue brushed against the parting of your lips as if asking for safe passage, which you granted him by sliding your own under his. He tasted like rum and vanilla, equal parts bitter and sweet with a touch of tobacco, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“I really like you, Sanji.” you suddenly confessed, not being able to hold it back any longer.

He held your face in his hands, looking at you in pure amazement, searching for any possible sign that you might be joking. “Do you mean it, your highness?”

You nodded, swallowing the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. This was it. This was the part where he would either refuse or accept your feelings.

“I like you a lot too, Y/N.” he smiled warmly, pulling you into his lap. He began frantically kissing you all over your face and neck, making you giggle and feign resistance.

For the remainder of the night, the seagulls and pelicans were the only ones who heard the laughter of two pirates exchanging kisses from the crows nest. They both ended up falling asleep curled up in each others arms, causing the rest of the crew to tease them lovingly in the morning.

#vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #sanji fanfic #sanji fluff #sanji imagine #sanji scenarios #sanji #opla x reader #opla fanfiction

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heytherecentaurs · 5 months

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Burrow's End is an absolute masterpiece.

In the span of ten episodes Aabria and Co. weave an exciting and emotional adventure story about a family of sentient stoats. It delivers huge laughs, interesting societal criticism, remarkably emotional and well-acted scenes and concludes with a series of epilogue scenes that feel appropriate for each character, some heartfelt and subdued and others bigger than life and all the funnier for it.

Siobhan and Izzy play the perfect pair of siblings. They fight and argue but they also love each other. Jaysohn (Siobhan) looks up to Lila (Izzy) and believes she's the smartest stoat in the world (and by the end she probably is) and Lila hypes up her little brother's athletic skills. They both fully embodied these kids and I could watch them do fun stuff for more episodes. Give me a version of Saved by the Bell with them. Stoat by the Bell.

Brennan and Rashawn, playing sisters, also knock it outta the park, showing a more mature sibling dynamic. Brennan portrays Tula as the quintessential overtired single mother of excitable kids, and Rashawn as younger sister Viola straddles a very interesting line of being intimidating to outsiders but very much more naive and looking to her older sister when she starts a family.

Jasper as Thorn, a guy everyone just lets be a cult leader because he really wanted to, is fantastic. His is a difficult role as the only non-blood relative. Jasper plays Thorn with such real humanity of a guy in over his head and letting his ambition wife call the shots, but also one who agrees with her goal, really loves her and has moments of real menace. He has some very funny scenes, his big speech is perfect, and I just enjoy him.

Erika is wonderful. They play the epitome of generational trauma as many have said but as much trauma as Ava has, she is also loving and willing to learn. The fact Erika took this adversarial role is incredible. The tense dramatic scene primarily between Ava, Tula and Viola is amazing. They act their asses off and make hard choices that I imagine are difficult even for such an experienced player.

Aabria's DMing always feels fun. She doesn't get bogged down in the rules. She knows them. She plays by them. But as a master, she knows how and when to break them too. Her seasons on Dimension 20 have all had a tenseness, a particular edge to them that can give me anxiety during dramatic scenes between two characters. It always feel like one of her NPCs may say something devastating and the tension between characters reaches really thrilling heights. This is present in other seasons, but I don't think anyone does it as well as she does. The first season of hers to have battle maps, Aabria really swung for the fences and gave us some of the wildest maps to date.

Shout out to Carlos Luna's voice acting. He did an incredible job. And shout out to the whole crew who have put together one of the best seasons of D20. They keep finding ways to build on what's come before and they should be commended for it.

Dimension 20 is most successful when the concept is very streamlined. They don't do huge 100 episode campaigns capable of handling huge winding complex narrative, but short focused D&D stories, which is why many of the Side Quests have been so fantastic. They embody this philosophy most clearly, but it's apparent in the most beloved Intrepid Heroes seasons as well—John Hughes/High Fantasy, Game of Thrones/Candyland, Retrofuturism, Film Noir but in a Brain... Burrow's End fits this perfectly. It's streamlined concept paired with great storytellers and great chemistry sets it up to be a smash hit before it begins. And goddamn does it deliver.

Thanks Stupendous Stoats!

#dimension 20 #d20 #burrow's end #aabria iyengar #brennan lee mulligan #izzy roland #isabella roland #erika ishii #siobhan thompson #jasper william cartwright #rashawn scott #rashawn nadine scott #carlos luna #dropout.tv #hey there centaurs

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seventeenlovesthree · 6 months

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@digimon02countdown Day 7 - What do you love about Digimon Adventure 02?

While my attachment to Digimon started and persisted due to my love to the original Adventure, there are still quite a few things about 02 that always kept me around. I have already hinted at it in previous posts; the relationships, similarities and support between the "older" and "new" Chosen Children, the concept of the multiverse, Jogress evolution (also the fact that my OTP are absolute dads to the kids)... But I'd say the most important aspect for me is the bonding between the characters. And nothing signifies this more for me, nothing is as outstanding, significant and vibrant - as the development of the relationship between Daisuke and Ken.

I would argue that, overall, no relationship gets that much focus, that much visible positive development than these two. And yes, upon getting asked, I will never deny that, in my opinion, there is a sense of romantic tension between them too, but in this post, I just want to write about how fascinating, soothing and beautiful their bond is to me in general.

Their initial set-up is, once again, that of rivals. That is a theme Digimon has always been playing with - but I'd say no other series threw that trope for a loop like this before. On one hand, there is the fact that they're both playing football, even ending up facing each other at a point in the series where Ken is still considered to be that perfect, untouchable genius, good at and with everything, while Daisuke is considered a thick-headed knucklehead, goodhearted, but brash and not really talented in many areas - and yet, he still admired Ken at this point. Then of course, there is the fact that they're on opposing ends, enemies in the Digital World, having brutal, cruel fights against one another as Chosen Child vs. Digimon Kaiser - until the spell breaks, with the Crest of Miracles breaking Ken's curse.

And from now on, the boy - who's responsible for his own Digimon partner's death and the suffering of so many others - will have to face the aftermath of what he's done, dealing with guilt and self-esteem issues, feeling unworthy and unlovable.

But then there is Daisuke - the only one who immediately wants to give him the chance to atone for what he's done. He is not forgiving him right away, but wants him to be able to make up for everything - and with kindness and the persistence to not let him sacrifice himself and die, they achieve the unthinkable: Their Digimon combine, their hearts pound in sync. They seem to be connected in ways that make Daisuke get excited - and scare the heck out of Ken. He thought he didn't have anything or anyone else but his reborn Digimon partner and family, and now there's this boy he used to fight, he used to be enemies with... Who simply wants to be his friend, who wants them to be "partners" and work together.

It's confusing, it's scary. While Daisuke is sure that they're meant to be and fight next to each other, it takes time for Ken to feel ready to take the steps towards him, the others, forming bonds, friendships. But Daisuke being Daisuke makes it so much easier for him to let his walls down, slowly but steadily enabling him to show his gentle and soft side, starting to trust and rely on him as much as he does in return.

And Daisuke? Daisuke is displaying a sense of confidence and comfort that we rarely saw before - he tended to be so focused on impressing others, covering up his own insecurities with cockiness. But his bond with Ken makes all his natural kindness and straightforwardness come through easily. He may appear more simple-minded at first glance, but his heart has the right priorities - and he'll do what it takes to save Ken, from himself, from darkness, helping him to be his true self.

Daisuke doesn't doubt their connection for a second - and that's why it's so important that Ken is still able to shake him. That he has an impact on him like no other. He will give Ken all the time he needs to face his demons, to do the things that are uncomfortable to him - and he'll be by his side all the way.

They are partners, they've got each other's backs. And as long as they don't lose sight of themselves and each other, it will always be this way.

#digimon02countdown #digimon adventure 02 #daiken #daisuke motomiya #ken ichijouji #david motomiya #meta #my two cents

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wiz-writes · 10 months

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Magic comes with a price. That is an inevitability every mage has to face. But when you lose your powers in a freak accident, you are certain that the price has been paid in full. You settle down in the peaceful countryside, far away from any conflicts or conspiracies, all the while focusing on your recovery. And for two years, your life is quiet. Until an untimely visit thrusts your fate into a stranger’s hands and you are forced to embark on one last journey to save yourself and your family. Yet the secrets you uncover might very well bring about your downfall, as well as the undoing of everyone in Waledria. The Withering approaches. Will you make it before you lose yourself?

Aesemyr: The Withering (previously named A Rhapsody in Blue) is a fantasy IF game with a focus on story and characters, with some elements of romance and adventure. It’s planned to be a two-part series.

Play as a man, woman or non-binary.

Customise your appearance and shape your personality.

Follow the teachings of a specialised Way and gain access to different skill sets.

Find romance with one of the five ROs; or choose to stay as friends.

Set off on a journey that will bring you closer to the truth about the accident that nearly cost you your life.

Unearth a secret that might mean the end of the kingdom you call home.

Be devoured from within; or fight till the last breath.

Welcome to Lyyra, a kingdom where magic means innovation. As the leading force in the acquisition of Ruun - a natural source of magical energy - Lyyra has thrived for almost a century now. Being the foundation upon which the kingdom continues to build, it comes as a great honour to be born as Ruun-touched. These so-called mages are able to manipulate and shape the magical energies that criss-cross the world around them. You are one such person. Trained by the prestigious Academy, a place of wisdom and learning, you are part of one of many teams tasked with protecting the citizens, as well as Lyyra's interests. However, when you find yourself caught in a devastating explosion, your old life is torn away from you as you are stripped of the very essence of your being - your magic. For two years, you stay in a small town called Helys, focusing on recovery and figuring out your life; that is, until the peace and quiet is interrupted by an unexpected visitor. What follows is a series of events that no one could have predicted. Your life hangs in the balance once more as you struggle on the path you were set upon by others. The secrets that come to light bring nothing but ill tidings, both for yourself and the kingdom; and as tensions rise to a boiling point, you are caught in the middle of it all with only a few trusted allies by your side. However, the worst is yet to come.

DEMO

COG FORUMS | KO-FI

Romance Options

There are altogether 5 ROs so far: one female, one male, two gender-selectable and the last one is unfortunately a bit spoilery ;)

Valia Kainen (F, 28)

You’ve known Valia for more than a decade now. Having met while studying at the Academy, she has always been a quick study and a diligent learner. Hence it is no surprise that she has risen through the ranks to the position of the Academy’s Headmistress at a much younger age than most of her predecessors. This is often attributed to both her exceptional skills and ruthlessness - her cold exterior only adding to her reputation. In spite of all that, she is mainly driven by her love for her friends and family and she makes quick work of anyone who dares hurt them.

While she’s no longer the girl you used to know, some things still remain the same; her dislike of you being one of them.

Appearance: Average height and athletic build. Shorter light brown hair that barely touches her chin. Light green eyes. Permanently set jaw and furrowed brows. A small scar across the left eyebrow. Tanned skin.

Lucenis Yu Jie Veldari (M, 32)

A popular poet and the younger brother of the current king of Lyyra, Lucenis tends to keep his distance from the affairs of the royal court. In the past year, he has seemingly withdrawn from the public eye as well, though that doesn’t appear to dim the love the general populace has for him. He is well-known for his gentle nature, soothing voice and willingness to help those in need - be it an unfortunate soul or a struggling researcher. Throughout the years, numerous rumours have emerged, about both him and his mother; none have ever been proven true.

He is a good friend of your brother and Valia, the three of them often seen together in the city.

Appearance: Tall and lean build. Long dark brown hair that reaches to his mid-back and that usually frames his face as he keeps it loose. Black eyes and warm beige skin with a sickly pallor.

Tevshedi “Tev” Zanue (F/M, 36)

Tev has been a mercenary since a young age. They have travelled around the world in search of work for many years and that has not only hardened them, but also turned them into a fierce warrior. Not too long ago, however, they left that life behind, instead applying for the position of Lucenis’ personal bodyguard. Good humoured and loyal to a fault, they often joke that they are not paid enough for keeping the man safe, especially from himself. But even so, they seem to be enjoying their new life in the royal palace, as adaptability and being able to handle unexpected situations is something they excel at.

Their amiable personality has helped them in establishing various connections among both the common folk and nobility. This has allowed them to build a vast information-gathering network without any interference.

Appearance: On the taller side with a muscular build. Short black hair, coiled. Brown eyes. Dark brown skin. Has a rather nasty scar travelling from their collarbone to their chin.

Cerin Melista (F/M, 25)

Cerin is a part-time librarian in one of the capital’s largest public libraries. At the same time, they are also finishing up their studies to officially become a professor of history at the most prestigious university in Lyyra. They are a passionate collector of ancient tomes and relics, often going to great lengths to acquire them. Despite their popularity among their students, they are usually feared or shunned by the more superstitious folk - their heterochromatic eyes being seen as an ill omen in many places. However, that doesn’t seem to dampen their spirit, their outgoing personality and boundless enthusiasm being the proof of that.

Yet there is an unsettling presence about them, something in the sharpness of their gaze, as if they can see straight into your soul.

Appearance: Average height and slim build. Shoulder-length red hair kept in a messy ponytail. Heterochromatic eyes – one is a striking blue, one hazel. A smattering of freckles across the cheeks. Fair skin.

Other characters & teammates:

MC’s twin brother (28)

Your younger twin brother, by two minutes. Raised by your father, you both joined the Academy at the age of fourteen when your magic manifested. Since then, you started growing apart as you decided to pursue different fields of study. Unlike you, he chose the path of research, rather than combat; he is quite well known in his circles, mainly for his study of Ruun in connection to translocation.

Appearance: Similar to the MC. Short hair, brushing his ears. Very dark circles underneath his eyes. Faint smile lines around his mouth.

Captain Kal Poita (42)

The captain of your team and someone you could always depend on. Your group is like a family to him and he is very protective of you all, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.

Appearance: Average height, broad shouldered. Close-cropped brown hair. Light brown eyes. Tanned skin. Various small scars on his hands and arms, a scar across the corner of his mouth.

Vera Harwe (29)

Charismatic and always up to no good, Vera liked you from the moment she met you. While she regrets choosing this path in her life and often talks about retiring, she would never abandon any of you.

Appearance: Average height, lean build. Short blond hair, falling into her eyes. Light blue eyes. Fair skin.

Ash Riven (30)

Reckless and seemingly without any regard for their own life, the fun-loving Ash participates in most of Vera’s escapades; except for those that involve too many people, as they tend to shy away from larger crowds and strangers.

Appearance: Tall and lanky. Shoulder-length white hair, kept in a ponytail when needed. Stormy grey eyes. Sharp cheekbones. Very pale skin.

Delos Kyysta (29)

Delos, or “Del” as everyone calls him, is the quiet conscience of the group, with a careful and contemplative nature. Often at odds with Vera, he is all but fed up with the shenanigans his teammates think of.

Appearance: Average height, athletic build. Short curly black hair. Dark brown eyes. Olive skin.

#aesemyr: the withering #interactive fiction #interactive story #interactive novel #if #if wip #choice of games #choicescript #cog wip #dashingdon

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

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One of the issues with disney movies lately is some of the disney female protagonists is the adorkable personality. Which worked with Rapunzel and Anna but as time passed on, it seem to be the norm which the problem came once Wish revealed. Although despite that issues, all but Asha have reasons the way they are.

Rapunzel and Anna have been isolated from everyone with Rapunzel in the tower with only a chameleon as her friend and it didn't help that Mother Gothel is abusive to her while Anna stays in the castle with her sister being distant to her. I am not sure she is close with any of the servants since they are servants. Of course, they are socially awkward but they improve with Rapunzel having to experience social interaction in her TV series while Anna no longer has this in the sequel.

Moana is mostly serious and adventurous, which overshadows her quirkiness as only shown during her time in the ocean compared to the island as she fulfilled her duty as future chief. She has some laughable moments, but it doesn't stop her to continue her goal to saved the world and she is usually the serious of the two which the other is Maui.

Mirabel's quirkiness is the way she is because of how she isolated by her family and her village didn't pay much attention to her due to her being giftless which is why she tries her best to fit in. Her main personality is being empathetic as she helps her family with Antonio being brave enough with her favorite cousin by her side, Luisa talking about pressure that Mirabel listened, and Mirabel helping Isabel to let go of perfectionist. She can also be seen sassy like how she talks about Isabel.

Whereas Asha has no reason for the need to be quirky and awkward, she seems to be accepted by her friends, family, and the kingdom before the events of the story. She could have been an introverted, graceful woman who admired the king that she wanted to fulfilled his footsteps before realizing the truth.

Raya, Judy, Elsa, and Merida are the four disney female protagonist (not counting Pixar, I only included Merida since she is a princess) to not have that personality which is why are likable. The only issues they have is the movie itself especially Raya's movie theme being the trust message that is dangerous to followed, Zootopia's twist villain, the way Elsa is handle in the movies, and the bear curse parts.

Disney TV shows also have this issues with female protagonists, but not gonna say much since I am not sure if you know or not.

I haven’t seen like 3 of the movies listed here (Moana, Raya and the Last Dragon, and Brave) 😂 but I’ll trust that you know what you’re talking about, since I’ve seen Asha being compared to previous “adorkable” female leads like Rapunzel, Anna, Moana, and Mirabel in other Wish reviews.

The other 4 can have their quirkiness justified by being extremely sheltered and/or an outlier in their respective communities. However, this is not true of Asha, who is not only well known but also loved in Rosas—by her family, her friends, and heck, even the QUEEN.

It definitely feels like Disney got too comfortable with its formula, and in trying to please both modern audiences and older fans, they ended up pleasing no one. They’re so focused on making sequels and live action remakes now (which I guess is… easier??) 😅 I don’t know why Disney doesn’t make characters that are unique yet strong in their own ways. They’re capable of innovative characters (even if the execution of the overall stories aren’t great), as we see in Frozen and Zootopia (movies I have seen).

I did hear there was a lot of executive meddling in Wish’s production, so I wonder if this is why Asha had an unexplained quirkiness to her rather than a character that makes more sense for what she is and where she comes from. With her dad being a philosopher, I could see Asha working better as a quiet and introspective type who learns to be brave and to speak up for her own dreams and the dreams of those she loves rather than being a passive stander-by. This would actually give her a stronger character arc and growth rather than remaining static as she does in the actual movie we got 😔

#disney #disney wish #Asha #Frozen #Princess Anna #Moana #Merida #Brave #Zootopia #Judy Hopps #Rapunzel #Tangled #Raya #Raya and the Last Dragon #Mirabel Madrigal #Encanto #Elsa #notes from the writing raven

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azullumi · 1 year

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the minecraft experience with them — various characters ☆彡

summary — in the world wherein the blocks are square, the sun is square, the moon is square, everything is square, how will they live and survive?

characters — kaveh, zhongli, childe, tighnari, cyno, wanderer, alhaitham, ayato (w/ gender neutral reader)

tags — fluff, modern, just some headcanons i thought of while playing minecraft; headcanons

word count — 1137

a/n — god my heart is melting seeing my friends act like couples in minecraft.

KAVEH — It’s obvious, guys, come on. He focuses on arts and the beauty of architecture and would most definitely take on the role of the builder and the designer of the world. He’s the type to build the most beautiful and extravagant house, create an underground base, and have a fully functional and pretty home that it feels literally out of the world. He consumes a lot of resources though and would spend more time gathering the things that he needs more than the time he spent on building. He’s the primary reason why the forests are bald in your world because of the amount of wooden logs he needed. There was also the time wherein a creeper came to his home and blew it up, ultimately destroying it, and he was in despair. Alternatively, if you threaten to destroy his base, hell will break loose.

ZHONGLI — The most efficient and lucky miner of all, as well as the gatherer of materials and resources. He’s the type of player to immediately venture out and look for a cave with a wooden pickaxe on hand. Nobody complains though because he’s extremely lucky at finding ores and getting the things you need early-game. Progress is easily made with him on your side because of how fast he can mine things and because of that, it feels like he’s an expert on the game even when he doesn’t play that much nor has any prior experience. Oftentimes, he’ll immediately find diamonds but doesn’t have the appropriate pickaxe to mine it but it’s not a problem however as he’ll find another one so easily. ‘I came looking for coal but found diamonds instead’ type of beat.

CHILDE — An all-rounder. He can be the miner, he can be the explorer, he can be the gatherer, he can be the farmer, and most especially, he can be the fighter. We don’t talk about his building skills though, this man would build a 5x5 house made out of wood and call it a base then reasons that this is much more effective and saves your resources. Well, whatever makes him happy, I guess. He often accompanies you wherever you go especially when you go mining as he’ll protect you from the mobs. He’s the kind of person to believe that placing a bed on nether and sleeping on it will give you a huge buff. He’s the adventurous type of player, the reckless and careless kind, and is the reason why keep inventory is switched to true.

TIGHNARI — FOOD. FOOD. RESOURCES. FARM. ANIMALS. FOOD. Food is the essence of life and is really crucial in the game. He’s in charge of anything related to farming and alike. You’ll find dozens of chests fully stacked with food and animal products, especially bread and baked potatoes. He’s the main supplier and giver of food, as well as, potions in your world. He’s the type who loves collecting flowers and has his home decorated with plants and vines because it looks pleasant and not like anyone complains because it looks good. He’s also the builder type and just one look at a reference picture for his builds, he knows how it is done even without watching a tutorial. Definitely doesn’t like spiders because of the way it looks and how it can climb up structures and invade your home.

CYNO — The fighter and bodyguard to the farm. He’ll take on the role of the protector as he protects the base and farm from creepers that threaten to approach, blow up, and destroy any form of hardwork and kill annoying skeletons that shoot at you from afar and hide underneath the shade of the tree to avoid being burnt and dying. He often uses the weapon, Trident, and would go even at the ends of the world just to attain it (since it’s a rare drop). He does whatever he is asked to and would often go explore to gather materials or get what is needed. He occasionally finds lush caves and would tell you about it, asking you to come to these specific coordinates if you can. You won’t need Iron Golems and anything to protect your home when you have Cyno.

WANDERER — Just like his name suggests, man is the player incarnation of Dora the Explorer and would rather focus on looking for those rare and hard-to-find biomes than settling in on one place. He takes days just for adventuring and sometimes it can last up to weeks or months in-game. He goes out to venture and seeks for strongholds, mansions, and villages, then once he’s satisfied, he’ll come back with good loot and hard-to-get items on hand. He pulls an uno-reverse card on enemies and would raid them, blowing up mansions and taking everything that he can. He knows how to come back to your base or wherever he came from though no matter how far it is. You really don’t have to worry about him getting lost since he understands how coordinates work and if you don’t, he’ll make fun of you for it but will teach you afterwards.

ALHAITHAM — An explorer and expert in gathering. He has tons of materials stored in his chests that he doesn’t use and only chooses to fight when he needs to but he somehow has his character on a fully enchanted diamond armor with enchanted tools, either iron or diamond. You need a stack of clay? He has it, it’s on the chest on the third column at the top. How about some cactus or snowballs? He has quite a lot of those. He also has a collection of leaf blocks and vines that you might like as decorations of your home. Of course, since he has those unnecessary things, he also has a ton of importance that are often really hard to get and find, especially the slimes. Because of this, farming and gathering wasn’t something you’ll have to think of when you play with him.

KAMISATO AYATO — Exploration? Mining? Fighting? Gathering? Farming? Building? Whatever you mention, he knows how to do it and is even good at it. He immediately becomes an expert on the game from the very first few times of playing, saying that it’s just like life itself with some weird mobs and a square world. However, he only gathers and collects precious and rare materials and items that, majority of the time, he ends up not using. He would never touch copper because he thinks that it has no use— it’s true though. He doesn’t do a lot of work and wouldn’t invest that much time in doing such trivial things and tasks so his base is mediocre, not big nor small, only made for functional and competent use, and his chests are filled with only items that are needed for late-game.

— navigation | masterlist

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tooruuwuu · 7 months

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acelaw fic idea? or something? HEAR ME OUT

ace lives. somehow. maybe he shows signs of living that go unnoticed at first, everyone trying to rush luffy out of there. law doesn't get to do much other than seeing his dead lover's body from afar, he's absolutely out of it but he knows he needs to save luffy.

(maybe him and luffy interacted back at the auction house, luffy recognising him immediately. "ace was right!! the 'death' on your fingers is so cool!!")

law can only bring himself to blame ace for talking about his baby brother so much. for making law unintentionally have a soft spot for luffy as well. it's all ace's fault. so law focuses on his lover's brother. ace wouldn't want anything to hurt luffy after all.

marco on the other hand notices signs, he notices the slight flicker of pyro on ace's body and he immediately knows, he immediately acts on it, trying his best to get his brother out of here to a place where he can find proper equipment and peace to heal ace while shanks negotiates with the government. the red haired pirates help them out. everything takes time to settle but ace comes out alive.

fast forward to six months, ace wakes up. he calls out for luffy immediately, in panic, a part of him screams for law, for his lover who he hadn't listened to, for his lover who he hadn't seen in god knows how long, for his lover who loved, missed and longed for.

marco had left ace behind with the red haired pirates, trusting them to keep him safe while he gets the whitebeard crew together. they help him out, reassuring ace they'll take him to luffy.

(ace asks about law too. he finds out his lover had saved his baby brother's life, he felt immensely relieved and grateful. but he also found out his lover was now a warlord, it was unexpected but ace knew law must've had his motives.)

ace and luffy's reunion is a tearful one, they cling to each other for days to pass, always by each other's side and rayleigh definitely does not mind another student, curious to get to know ace.

boa hancock was extremely generous to ace. (the man choked on air when the 31 year old woman called him 'brother-in-law'. but he found it rather amusing as well with how uninterested his little brother was about the entire thing)

ace spent his time with luffy, while actively trying to get a hold of law's whereabouts, shakky told him she hadn't heard anything about law in months. ace hated how good his lover was at keeping low profile.

ace has a long discussion with marco. marco and all of the remaining crew had decided to settle down, scattered on different island that were still under their territory, everyone was content with it but marco urged ace to not follow that, offhandedly mentioning how he could tag along with luffy. ("hah!? i don't want my brother to be my captain!" "you're not obliged to work under him, talk to him about it-yoi")

luffy is absolutely ecstatic with the idea of ace wanting to go adventure with him in the new world. happy that his brother will be with him for a longer time.

rayleigh and shakky advice him to disguise himself. while luffy and his crew were just rumoured to be dead it was way worse with ace. the entire world saw him die. so ace goes with it. he leaves for sabaody before luffy, promising to meet him at the sunny go when he's about to set sail. ace spends his entire time trying to dig up information on law, the information he found was interesting, amusing even, but nothing enough to give him any clues on where exactly law was. ace sighs in distress, he hoped the new world will be more helpful.

meeting the crew again was fun, ace realises. from their reactions to him being alive to the little reunion the strawhats had, coming together after two years. (it made ace miss his own crew, his own family)

punk hazard catches his attention in a way no island had in a while. fishman island was fun, but it was an island ace had visited more than once, considering how it was one of his crew's territories- or well used to be.

luffy offers ace to come along with him, zoro, robin and ussop as they set off to explore punk hazard. ace realises soon which area this was, a part of him grimaced, shuddering when he realised who had caused this, who the magma belonged to. he politely refused, joking about how he'll take care of luffy's crew while he's off having fun.

when they get attacked, ace springs into action, but quickly has to withdraw once he realises the men were carrying poisoned gas with them.

he shapeshifts into fire quick, using it as a disguise to hide away from the poison as he eavesdrops their conversation carefully, it seemed they were heading to the other part of the island, the one covered with snow, aokiji's work.

however he does make a mistake, getting to close to the gas without realizing, he tried to find a safe spot immediately, somewhere that would keep him away from getting caught.

he passes out from the gas in the library and is later woken up by brook ("they couldn't kill me cause i'm already dead yohohoho!") ace offers to go look after the others and brook easily agrees, saying he'll take care of the sunny till then.

in the past two years ace trained his haki well, he closes his eyes as he feels the cold wind rush through his face, trying to sense where everyone was located...ah! all the strawhats seemed to be together at one place but...ace freezes. sensing someone unexpected, someone who wasn't part of the strawhats, someone who ace was all too familiar with.

he rushes in that direction immediately, uncaring that he might get caught, too ansty, too desperate to see- feel his love right now.

ace's pace slows down as he reaches an abandoned lab, panting slightly, he can hear luffy talking to the rest. "will you betray me?"

"no." and god. god ace right. the voice was none other than law's. his beloved's, it makes ace feel weak in the knees, his eyes well up, as he finally looks up to where law stood beside luffy. his breath hitched. law was more built, had a long black coat covering his body, his hat was different but has the same pattern, he stil had that spotted jeans he wore on a daily basis and law- god his face was everything. ace had yearned for years to see him again, to hear him again to just- be with law.

ace doesn't wait a single moment, snapping out of his daze as he practically crashes into law, both of them now on the ice cold floor of the abandoned laboratory. "law" he whispers out with so much emotion.

law freezes. quite literally in shock when he felt a body collide into him, he was about to summon his powers when he heard his name, the voice was awfully familiar, law could not being himself to believe any of this was real

"oh torao!" luffy laughed "i completely forgot to tell you about ace! he's alive! see?" law doesn't understand how could luffy forget something so important but it doesn't matter, his hands tremble and shake as they slowly reach out for the man on top of him, the man who had his face buried in law's shoulder. words couldn't form, he couldn't bring himself to speak as his fingers ran through ace's body, finally cupping his face, law stared, and stared more. none of this felt real, he tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat, a hoarse whisper finally tumbles out "ace"

law doesn't say ace's name often, mostly sticking to hiken-ya, but that doesn't pop up in his head when he held his lover's face in his hands, his eyes roaming around his face in confirmation, wanting to believe what he was seeing was true, when ace nodded, giving him the reassurance he needed, law let his tears slip freely.

no one interrupts them and neither of them speak either, too overwhelmed to form words. they'll talk later, they know they will. ace was alive, ace was with law, they had time.

they had time.

#this was not supposed to be this long i swear-#I GOT CARRIED AWAY #it's all acelaw's fault #acelaw #lawace #one piece #trafalgar water d law #trafalgar law #portgas d ace #ace

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dailyadventureprompts · 2 years

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Tableskills: The Proactive DM Voice

One of the most fundamental lesions I learned over the course of becoming a great DM was that it was my job to push the story forward, not my players. When I was younger I was terrified of taking any agency upon myself for fear of railroading my group, thinking that my job was merely to read out prepared text and design a playground for my players to explore as they saw fit. Needless to say, no matter how much planning i did or how big I made my campaign world it never made my party any more energized, instead bleeding out their attention until they became listless and the group/campaign dissolved.

Once I made the change to DM driven play, things changed almost instantly. My once distracted players became excited collaborators, looking to steer the runaway engine that was my narrative. Where as before they were directionless, having infinite shallow options, they were now focused on the road ahead of them, trying to dodge upcoming hurdles while reacting to the unexpected ones.

This change took some getting used to, but became most evident in how I narrated my games, cutting down on extraneous calls for rolls, chaining together scenes until a big finale at the end of the session, using my infinite power as narrator to push receptive players into interesting situations that progressed both the story and their character arc. Over time I began to think of these changes and a bunch of others as “proactive DM voice”, a skill that I think players and dungeonmaters alike could benefit from learning.

Lets look at an example, lifted from one of the very first modules I ever ran: The party stands at the edge of a tremendously large fissure, and has to lower themselves a hundred or more feet down to a ledge where they’ll be ambushed by direrats. You could run this in a rules literal sense: reading out the prepared text then waiting for the party to come up with a solution, likely dallying as they ask questions. Have them make athletics checks to descend the ropes, risk the possibility of one of them dying before the adventure ever begins. Then you do it two or three more times as they leapfrog down the side of the canyon, wasting what was perhaps half an hour of session time before you even got to any of the fun stuff.

Or you could get proactive about it:

Securing your ropes as best you can, you belay over the side of the fissure, descending down in a measured, careful pace aiming for the most stable looking outcrop of rock, still a hundred or so feet above the canyon’s base. A few minutes and about two thirds of the way through your decent [least athletic PC] looks like they’re struggling, their hands are coated in sweat and they can feel unfamiliar muscles burning in complaint. I need [PC] to make me an athletics check

Rather than waiting for the players and the dice to make a story for me, I took the extra step in my prep time to think of something interesting that might happen while they’re venturing through this section of the map. I specifically designed things so that happenstance wouldn’t kill off one of my heroes, but they might end up damaged and in a perilous situation should the fates not favour them that particular moment.

Likewise, this planning has let me prepare a number of different angles that I could use to prepare the next scene: with an injured player ambushed by multiple rats while their allies dangle a few rounds away or with the party saving their friend and descending together, too much of a threat for the rats to tackle all at once, leading them to stalk the party through future encounters.

This is already getting a bit long, but for those interested in more ways you can adopt a proactive DM voice, I’ll give more examples under the cut

A lot of people talk about “the Mercer effect” new people getting into d&d and begin disappointed that the group they’re playing with aren't like critical role. A lot of creators have talked about how to combat the Mercer effect, but regardless of props or budget, I think the greatest difference between your average d&d table and what you see on shows like Critical role, Adventure Zone, or Dimension 20 is the fact that in those streamed games EVERYONE at the table is using a proactive voice, where as it seems to be a skill that most players and dms never pick up on.

Think about it this way, nearly every streaming show is made up of professional entertainers: Voice actors, comedians, people who understand that time is a finite resource and a lack of momentum can kill their performance. That’s why listening to them play is such a treat, everything they say or do is designed to cut down on dithering and give the greatest comedic or dramatic punch in the shortest amount of time.

You start doing the same when you start using a proactive voice at your table, leaving all the unfun number crunching and arbitrary restrictions aside in favour of telling jokes or modulating the dramatic tension, a habit that your party will pick up over time as you maintain it, which will lead to snappier play and more getting done in a single session.

Momentum is key: you always want to be pressing forward towards the meat of your session, towards the next fun npc or dramatic setpiece, and as such you need to give your party the idea that they’re rolling towards a destination. The trick is that after a few plot relevant bits of setup, this destination is almost always a bad one, and if the party doesn’t act on the opportunities you’ve given them, they’re they’re going to end up hurdling towards disaster.

After your party has had their fun ask “ Is there anything you want to do before____?” rather than “ is there anything you want to do?” This gives your party a sense of urgency and forces them to act on their priorities, rather than waiting for them to decide and letting all the tension bleed out.

Be Obvious: you want players to know who and what within a scene is a means for gaining forward narrative progress, so whenever you narrate, be sure to add a liberal dose of scene hooks in with your background description.

The reason that players dither is because they’re not sure what the expectations for a scene are or what they can do: Try to end every one of your descriptions with a prompt for action from your players, restating the problem they’re facing, a few options that they might use to solve it, a reminder of what might happen if they fail. This also helps get past some players who’ve been trained by anxiety bad dms to expect a trap everywhere.

When in doubt, cut it out: unless you have interesting material prepared for a scene, it’s a good idea to skip over a length of time and get to the next bit of content. There’s no reason to detail a party’s night of sleep in the inn after the first night, nor days of travel that aren't particularly dangerous or exceptional. Move them forward unless you feel like one of your players wants to use their downtime as a backdrop for RP

Just let them do it: One of the quickest ways to speed up your game and get things flowing is to cut out extraneous rolls: if your party figures out who the mystery killer is or identifies the type of monster the villagers only saw a hint of, don’t have them roll to see if their characters figured it out. The same goes for solving a puzzle, or correctly suspecting something might be trapped. Instead give them a gold star for being clever little goblins and move on, rather than locking crucial plot development behind a dc. I take any excuse I can to GIVE my party information, relating it to their character backstory or their time spent in a certain region. Not only does it make things faster, it makes them more immersed.

They need to be allowed to mess up: When you cut down on extranious rolls, it means those left behind are important, and need to have consequences. The same goes for the party’s decisions, which need to have real and lasting consequences (good or bad). The first time the party realizes they dropped a plot hook and someone they knew suffered for it, they’ll suddenly understand their responsibility to the world they’re adventuring in and the story they’re a part of.

Give your party regular breaks: While it’s important to maintain a steady momentum, sometimes it’s a good idea to let your party wander a bit, especially if you’re about to head into a longer section of action like a dungeon delve or a mystery. Give them an idea when this time will end (a crowning event at a festival, the king’s courier will get back to them in about three days, bad weather rolling in) and then ask if there’s a special way they’d like to spend their time. This designated space to goof off or go on tangents is actually the best way to get stuff out of your more RP shy players, as they’re often self conscious about taking the spotlight away from others.

I hope this gives you what you need to start making the switch over to proactive Dm voice, but if you want more inspiration pay attention to some liveplay artists, especially those who know they’ve got a limited amount of time on camera to get things done. Imitation is not only the sincerest form of flattery, it’s also one of the best ways to improve your skills.

#tableskills #dm tips #DM advice #DM tools #dm toolbox #narration #voice acting #critical role #dimension 20 #taz #Dungeons and Dragons #dnd #dm starterpack

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nardos-primetime · 1 month

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I got the Donnie 'tism and the Leo 'DHD.

Call me Rain/Rainy, LED, Leon/Leo/Nardo or Don/Donnie/Tello.

I go by He/Him/His/Himself and Zo/Zom/Zombs/Zombself.

I may or may not be a kinnie of both Leonardo and Donatello. (Mainly Leo though.)

Mainly makes horror and angst aus, but I happily dabble in sillier things as well, there's some lighter things even within my dark aus normally.

(These can contain GORE AND INJURY (MENTAL AND PHYSICAL), PLEASE be warned and take care of yourself first and foremost!)

I normally don't do much shipping wise with the turtles unless it's for lore reasons within a story or something (other than leosagi and possibly donsagi) and absolutely don't do nsfw. Maybe a dick/sex joke here and there but nothing else.

Feel free to message/ask me about shit, I need to get better with being social and love hearing shit about things I like/make! Just don't be a weirdo, y'know?

(Aka tc*st dni)

Tags:

#nardo's primetime.txt - Thoughts and Rambles mostly

#Writings - More concise rambles. Like minifics or mini fic ideas of some kind. Or story stuff in general. Normally not full works.

#practice makes perfect! - Specifically my adventures practicing drawing turtles

#writers wips - Clips and stuff from my fics what aren't done or whatever

Au Tags:

#Draxum's Side of The Family AU - AU that focuses on Clones of the turtles that have a lot of problems. Don't worry, the original turtles have more problems too! Equal opportunity angst!

#Natural Disasters AU - WIP WIP WIP the turtles are all natural disasters/elements and such

#Villain Mikey AU/#Broke a Million Dollar Box AU - Wow this bitch has FAMILY ISSUES surely he deals with it in a HEALTHY WAY and does NOT kill people and go crazy!

#Villain Donnie AU/#Viral.Donnie AU - Local boy causes apocalypse and then runs the apocalypse more at 10

#Four-More Villains - Tied in w Villain Mikey & Villain Donnie, shared with @midwesternvibes

#Nonsense Apocalypse AU - A Rise au focusing on a robot turtle and zombie turtle trying to find their brothers in a weird apocalypse, and vice-versa.

#Teenage Mutant Magical Boys AU - Local mutants are used to save the world and are idols on the side. Aware that they're related. All struggling soso hard.

#nardo's primetime.txt #draxum's side of the family au #nardo posting #tello posting #practice makes perfect!#nonsense apocalypse au #Writings #villain mikey au #nardo's asks.txt #four-more villains #teenage mutant magical boys au #writers wips #villain donnie au #broke a million dollar box au #viral.donnie au

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batmannotes · 1 month

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Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom 4K Ultra HD Review

Jason Momoa reprises his role as the King of the Seven Seas in Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, which comes 5 years after the original film was released. Once again Aquaman’s most notable rogue, Black Manta, is back seeking revenge for his deceased father. This time, Manta wields the power of the mythic Black Trident to unleash an ancient and sinister force. Hoping to end his reign of terror, Aquaman makes an unlikely alliance with his brother, Orm, the former king of Atlantis. Setting aside their differences, they join forces to protect their kingdom and save the world from irreversible destruction.

I must admit, even though I consider myself a superhero aficionado, it has been 5 years since the first solo Aquaman flick hit the theaters and remembering certain details regarding the movie were hazy for me at best. Fortunately, there are flashbacks to some of the pertinent moments from the first outing. As in the original movie, there is a healthy dose of action and adventure sprinkled with some hit and miss humor. I enjoyed the unlikely bond between the brothers, and it is hard to argue that Black Manta is one of the most iconic super villains to hit the silver screen in a comic book flick in recent memory. Unfortunately, Manta is paired with a far less interesting character named Dr. Shin (Randall Park) and a collection of henchmen and women with little to no depth in this underwater adventure.

The visuals of this film are the real treat, and with the 4K format they really shine. The underwater computer-generated sequences are particularly aesthetically pleasing, but I really wish this movie stuck to scenes beneath the sea. There are tons of incredibly interesting creatures in the ocean that an Aquaman movie has yet to tap into. A number of times the movie gets caught trying to copy other films, particularly Star Wars, however, this movie lacks the interesting intertwining plot points and character development of the sci-fi classic. Even with the beautiful 4K eye candy most of its visuals project, there are the occasional, (Joss Whedon) Justice League-esque CGI that leaves you wondering, “where did that come from?”. I also did not care for Aquaman being out of his classic orange and green costume for most of the movie, as I felt that it robbed me of that superhero feel.

VIDEO QUALITY 📽️ : A

The 2160p transfer looks glorious, even with the aforementioned lackluster CGI in a few limited sequences. This liquid beauty really carry the visual end of this film.

AUDIO QUALITY 🔈 : A

The Dolby Atmos English: Dolby TrueHD 7.1 (48kHz, 24-bit) really is a treat for the listener at home. The dialogue is clear, and the action sequences are bombastic as you are immersed deep into the sea of this film.

EXTRAS 📀 : B

Included with this single disc release is a Digital Copy and several video extras listed below:

Finding the Lost Kingdom (21:22) - Jason Momoa, director James Wan, DC honcho Jim Lee, production design Bill Brzeski, and other key members of the cast and crew are your guides at this usually scenic behind-the-scenes featurette, which includes bits and pieces of on-set footage and others supportive clips.

Aquaman: Worlds Above and Below (9:39) - A like-minded look at various locales on both sides of the surface that covers special effects, location shoots, and Aquaman lore by way of a few vintage comics.

Atlantean Blood is Thicker than Water (4:17) - A short but sweet look at the history of Arthur and his half-brother Orm, again with some comics history and short interviews with Momoa and Patrick Wilson.

It's a Manta World (10:08) - Another character-focused featurette, this short piece sits down with Yahya Abdul-Mateen II and others to speak about David Kane, Black Manta, the power suit, and more.

Necrus, the Lost Black City (5:51) - James Wan, producer Peter Safran, Bill Brzeski, and others chat briefly about the titular lost kingdom, its visual creation, and its history in the franchise.

Escape from the Deserter World (8:05) - Another like-minded featurette about the location -- or in this case, sequence -- featured in the film, a handful of familiar faces share about its creation and execution while being supported by behind-the-scenes footage, concept art, rehearsals, costume and set design, and more.

Brawling at Kingfish's Lair (4:07) - A quick look at one of the film's many visually overloaded action scenes and some of the goofier details and supporting characters featured in it.

Oh, Topo! (2:12) - And speaking of goofy supporting characters, this short and light-hearted tribute acts as an appreciation and highlight reel for everyone's favorite comedy relief cephalopod.

FINAL GRADE: C-

The only real emotions drawn from this bloated outing are the reconciliation between two brothers and the love for their mother. Aquaman should have submerged deeper into the sea, instead of trying to mimic the tales of old from the land above.

Order now from Amazon.

#aquaman #movie #review

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 3 months

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I Didn't Know You Were Keeping Count — Part X: Swan

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Author's note: The results of the poll are in! We're splitting this chapter right down the middle! Look for Swan, continued some time next week or so.

Tag list:

@ravenmind2001 @incorrectskyrimquotes @uwuthrad @dark-brohood @owl-screeches @binaominagata @constantfyre @kurakumi @stormbeyondreality @singleteapot @aardvark-123 @blossom-adventures @argisthebulwark @inkysqueed @average-crazy-fangirl @the-tuzen-chronicles @shivering-isles-cryptid @orangevanillabubbles

If you want to be on the tag list for future chapters, please let me know!

Content Warning: Nothing special for this chapter.

#######

“There’s nothing to discuss so long as that traitor continues to lead an insurrection against the Empire.”

“With all due respect, General, the dragons pose a greater threat.”

“They’re a nuisance, but I wasn’t sent to Skyrim to slay dragons. I intend to put down this rebellion, dragons or no dragons.”

They had been going around in circles for nearly half an hour. Leara had to respect Tullius’s ability to give her the runaround. As a tactic against politicians and the Aldmeri Dominion, it was no doubt a very useful skill, but Leara wasn’t a politician, and as for the Dominion, well, that didn’t count, did it?

Across the room, Legate Rikke stood over the map of Skyrim; while she appeared focused on the flags marking Stormcloak movement, her attention was very obviously on the discussion between the Dragonborn and the Legion General. Leara didn’t know much about the legate, save that she was well-respected even by the Stormcloaks (or so she’d heard). What would Rikke say if Leara brought up the threat of Alduin? Unbidden, she recalled how that one Stormcloak general had scoffed at the idea. As much as she’d like to chalk belief up to an inside joke for Helgen survivors – and how morbid was that? – Leara was sure Tullius wouldn’t appreciate how serious a threat the World-Eater was. She couldn’t blame him. She hadn’t understood it herself, not until she was face to face with Alduin in Kynesgrove. Dragons meant something different in Skyrim than to the rest of the Empire. Dragons were not a symbol of Imperial sovereignty and Divine salvation. To the Nords, dragons were first overlords and later the stuff of legends. And those legends came back to burn the world to ash. Still. He was at Helgen. Tullius knew what they could do.

“Given the trouble that one dragon caused the Legion last summer, I can’t imagine the growing number of attacks is doing your troops any favors,” Leara said.

Grave, General Tullius looked at the leather folios stacked near the map. “Perhaps,” he said. Tapping a finger on the stack, he added, “But all accounts show that the Stormcloaks are just as affected as we are. The dragons are just another condition we all must reckon with. The legion can weather the winter, we can deal with the dragons.”

Legate Rikke pursed her lips but remained silent.

Leara settled a contemplative expression over her face, though inside she wanted to roll her eyes at the general’s bluster. She wouldn’t accuse Tullius of arrogance. No, he was too cunning a strategist for that. But his push to stick with the conflict as if the dragons were another natural phenomenon to work around was dangerous. The kind of dangerous that would see both sides razed by dragon fire. Leara inclined her head. “For everything there is a season. Am I right in my understanding that forward progress has been slow this year? Tensions will soon reach a boiling point and, forgive me, but the peace council may be able to circumvent any more unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Ulfric’s forces are stretched thin as it is, and soon his supporters will see for themselves the consequences of opposing the Empire,” Tullius said, his hand curling into a fist. “This war will be over soon enough.”

Legate Rikke coughed.

“Is it really so simple?” Leara asked.

Tullius’s fist tightened. “Of course, it’s not,” he sighed, “Look, Miss—”

“Just Leara is fine.”

“Leara, then. The Nords seem to put a lot of stock in you being ‘Dragonborn.’ I won’t pretend to know what that means here, but the Legate has told me that you’re some type of hero. But I can’t afford to depend on one person to take care of this war. Tell me, how can you enforce this proposed peace when it’s taken legions to get this far?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and Leara wondered if Tullius was as tired as she felt. “If the Emperor would just send the reinforcements I’ve asked for, this business would be done with!”

Now that wasn’t simple. Leara knew that much. She remembered the legions mobilizing through Colovia and the West Weald when she was still in the Imperial City. Back when the war in Skyrim was just another topic to gossip about with customers. Maybe once did The Black Horse Courier run a front page spread on it, but that was when High King Torygg was killed, and the lines were first drawn. As a Blade, Leara couldn’t help but empathize with the Stormcloaks’ desire for free Talos worship, but at the same time, she spent years in Cyrodiil and in Alinor before that. She knew what the bigger picture was and it turned her stomach. People in Cyrodiil were more concerned about their backdoor than the northern frontier, and they had a right to be. If the Emperor diverted more men to Skyrim, then the line between the Imperial City and the threat from the Aldmeri Dominion would be weakened, and they couldn’t afford that.

And that was without the dragons to contend with.

“I can’t guarantee anything,” Leara admitted freely. “What I can do is advise using this peace council as a means to solidify Imperial support in Skyrim. If the Empire shows themselves willing to talk, then getting the people’s support will be easier.”

Tullius studied her for a long moment. Leara waited. He didn’t see the traitor that lurked just below her skin. Ulfric suspected it was there, but Leara prayed that the idea didn’t even enter Tullius’s mind. She was the Dragonborn, and she needed to be seen as such. Not as a Blades agent nor as a Dominion officer.

“We could use the breathing room – if you can pull this off,” he said at length. “Fine, we’ll come to this peace council, for all the good it’ll do. I still have my doubts, but who knows? Under these conditions, even Ulfric might agree to your little truce.”

“I doubt that, sir,” Legate Rikke said, face drawn. “He’ll be there. He won’t disrespect the Greybeards’ invitation, but he won’t come quietly.”

“He overestimates himself,” Tullius nodded. “That will be all, Legate.”

“Of course, General.”

Relaxing her shoulders, Leara smiled. From a pouch on her belt, she withdrew a card. “This has the details for the council,” she said, handing the card to Tullius.

He turned it over. “Two weeks. You knew I’d agree to this.”

“I was optimistic.”

Legate Rikke laughed. “You’ll need that if you think you’re going to get Ulfric to agree to anything!”

Leara only continued to smile as her anxiety over Ulfric wormed its way through her insides, squirming and gnawing.

·•★•·

Solitude was beautiful in high summer.

Winding her way through the Market District, Leara peaked at the open stalls from underneath the protection of her hood. The potent tang of salmon and other fish brought in by the morning boats wafted through the air; many were piled up in barrels and crates, but some were strung up on wire threaded between stalls where their scales caught the sun at high noon. But fish were only one of the many offerings of the Solitude market. Imports from High Rock, Cyrodiil, and the Summerset Isles glittered in the hands of merchants haggling with shoppers. It was a pleasant day and the streets were crowded with men, elves, and beast folk. It reminded Leara of a pale version of the vibrant Imperial City.

She eyed a line of shops, each with signs carved and painted in the classical cosmopolitan styles of the Heartland. Passing by a dress shop, she spied an ensemble not unlike one she recalled the Duchess of Colovia wearing to the Midyear’s celebration a couple of years before, peeking through a window. Next door were several tables displaying handcrafted leather bracers and jackets. Most were Nordic, but she spied the odd Nibenese or Colovian design in the mix. Solitude, or at least its merchant class, seemed to take many of its cues from the Imperials. Hopefully, this boded well for her hunt for a decent bookshop. She desperately needed to study some of these ancient Nord legends that were so intrinsically tied to being Dragonborn.

Although, as much as Solitude seemed to mimic the Imperial City, the lack of a common newspaper gave her pause.

Maybe she could blame that on the civil war.

Ducking through an alley, she tucked her cowl tighter around her mouth. Despite the pleasant weather, an absent breeze wound its way through the city, chilled by the Sea of Ghosts. But even if it were stifling outside, she’d keep her hood and cowl on. Solitude reflected the Imperial City in many ways, including the presence of the Aldmeri Dominion within its walls. She was too lax before when she infiltrated that party at the Embassy. And again, when she spoke with Ancano at the College. The Dominion was always watching.

Electricity teased her spine, and Leara shivered.

The familiar urge to run nipped at her feet. But no. She had come too far to run now. Even with the Dominion and Ulfric Stormcloak out to get her, she still had to think of Skyrim. Akatosh ordained it so.

Crossing the street, she slipped through the door to The Winking Skeever. Warmth and laughter pulled her in, inviting her to join the chattering patrons clustered around fish plates and bowls of mead. Her stomach twinged. Winding her way to the bar, Leara adverted her gaze from the platters of food on the nearby tables. Food could wait.

A gentle yip! brought Leara’s attention to the ground. Karnwyr slipped from under a stool, his tail wagging, and bounded up to her. “Well, hello to you, too!” Leara giggled, letting the wolf lick her hand.

“None for me, sweetness?”

The giggle petered out. “No, thank you. You reek of alcohol.”

Bishop snorted, a near-empty tankard in his hand. “There’s nothing else to do when you’re off doing gods-know-what.”

Karnwyr whined when Leara’s hand slipped from his reach, falling to her side. Clearing her throat, Leara settled on the barstool beside Bishop. “I’m done,” she said. “Tullius agreed to attend. We can leave Solitude in the morning.”

“I’ll be glad when we can put this prissy hole behind us. Their alcohol tastes like horker dung,” Bishop grumbled, throwing back the rest of his tankard.

From the other end of the counter, Leara caught sight of the innkeeper’s son, rolling his eyes, exasperation painting his face. Clearly, this wasn’t the first comment Bishop had made about the tavern’s alcohol menu.

“We’ll be back on the road in the morning.”

Bishop eyed her, his pale eyes trailing over the hood stained dark with dragon’s blood and the silver armor in desperate need of polish. “You’re done with that Legion guy?”

“Yes.”

Bishop’s mouth lifted into a crooked smirk. “Well, well, I can think of a few things we can do to pass the time till we head out again, starting with this.” He leaned forward, the scent of fermented honey and yeast curling from him into Leara’s nose as he tugged the cowl down past her chin. “My, but you do look sweet enough to eat, don’t you?”

Her chin between his fingers, Leara could do nothing but offer a weak smile. “Actually, I was planning on finding a bookstore.”

“A what? More books?” Bishop groaned, releasing her to scrub his face. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“No, I’m quite serious.”

“Listen, darling,” Bishop said, resting his elbow on the counter. “It’s about time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Like me.”

“I do pay attention to you,” Leara said, patting his knee. Then she withdrew before he could snatch her hand in his. Standing up, she quirked her head to the side. “But I need to pay more attention to Skyrim.”

Bishop scoffed, but Leara ignored him as she slipped down the counter to where the innkeeper’s son, Sorex Vinius, stood pouring drinks. Leara waited quietly as he finished filling the tankards on one of the serving girls’ trays. As soon as the Breton girl whisked it away, he turned to Leara, raising a dark eyebrow. “Ah, Ormand, right? Here to order lunch?”

“No, thank you,” Leara smiled. “I was actually wondering if you could point me in the direction of a bookstore.”

Sorex nodded, “There’s a few options, depending on what you’re hunting for. There’s The Scholar Ship down by the docks, run by an Isabel Bourdon. That’s the place to go if you're looking for exotic, rare books. Then there’s always Bound to Please over by Radiant Raiment.”

“What sort of books do they sell?” Leara asked, not fancying a trip down to the docks if she could help it.

Sorex’s jaw slackened, “Uh, well, they specialize in—” He made a vague gesture, his eyes darting across the room before returning to Leara. She raised an eyebrow, and Sorex shrugged. “Spell tomes and, um. They specialize in,” he cleared his throat, “erotica.”

“I like the sound of that one!”

Leara winced as Bishop saddled up beside her. “I was looking for a more generalized selection.”

“Yes, of course you are,” Sorex coughed. “I’d recommend The Prints and the Paper. Run by an old seller from Wayrest, or so I’ve heard.”

“Really?” That piqued Leara’s interest. “Where is it?”

“Let’s go to that Bound to Please place,” Bishop whispered in her ear.

Sorex eyed Bishop, his brow creased. Leara couldn’t help but wonder how much trouble Bishop already caused the staff. And it was only half past twelve by the cathedral’s bell tower.

“‘round the corner from Bits and Pieces,” Sorex said slowly.

“Thank you,” Leara nodded. Then, grabbing Bishop’s wrist, she dragged him toward the door, Karnwyr bounding behind them.

“Woah, sweetheart! If only you were this enthusiastic in the bedroom!”

Leara hung her head, her hood falling over her eyes. And if she ran Bishop into the door jam as they left the Skeever, well, she wasn’t watching where she was going, was she?

·•★•·

The musky fragrance of leather covers and thick stacks of parchment teased Leara’s senses as soon as she stepped through the door. The Prints and the Paper was full of the warm dust notes that always hovered over old books despite best efforts. It wasn’t the Arcanaeum at the College, but there was a special kind of magic in a bookstore that stirred something homey and comforting in her chest.

Of course, Bishop took the opportunity to ruin it for her.

Naturally.

Picking up a particularly thick book on the Miracle of Peace, he snorted as he flipped through it. “What could you possibly want with any of this old stuff? There’s no pictures.”

“Well maybe if you learned to read,” Leara grumbled under her breath.

“What?”

“I said, some people use their imagination.”

Karnwyr sneezed, and Leara patted his head, absently. Taking the book back from Bishop, she set it back on the table where a stack of books on late Third Era High Rock geopolitics caught her eye. Topics ranging from the War of Bend'r-Mahk to the succession of the kings of Daggerfall stood out with bright gold and silver inlay on the spines. Other tables were spaced out along the central aisle, each piled high with books of various sizes and colors. In between a copy of The Real Barenziah and an anthology collection of 2920, she spied an expanded edition of The Annotated Anuad bound in a glossy black leather that could only be made from salamander skin. Leara swallowed, recalling a similar volume in Lord Varlarata’s parlor in Firsthold. Tearing her eyes from the memory, firelight drew her to the rest of the show room. There were rows and rows of bookshelves, tightly packed and dimly lit by scattered candelabras and wall sconces mounted at the ends of shelves. Leara eyed the fire with some hesitancy at its proximity to the books.

“Good afternoon! If you need any help, just let me know!” a wizened little Breton said, popping from between two stacks near the back. His overlarge spectacles gave his face a wide, rather goofy look.

“Yes, hello!” Leara said, practically sailing across the room from an exasperated Bishop. “I was wondering if you had any books on Nordic legends. I’m looking for the story of Olaf and the dragon!”

“Ah, yes!” the shopkeeper nodded. “I have a new edition of the Prose Edda edited by Viarmo that contains some rather fascinating annotations to the Olaf story!” With that, he disappeared between the stacks before Leara could mention anything about sightless creatures and old folktales.

“Well, that’s it, right?” Bishop asked, arms crossed. “You get your book and we can get back to more important things.”

Exhaling through her nose, Leara propped a hand on her hip. “And what do you call more important than the good of Skyrim?”

“The ‘good of Skyrim’? Please, sweetness, what does some old poem about a dead king have to do with the dragons flying around and eating people?” Bishop chuckled to himself, low and deep. But his eyes pressed into her, leering. Leara wanted to squirm. “Too bad Skyrim needs you as her savior. I could find a thing or two for you to do in my service.”

“Bishop, I don’t—”

The little bell over the door chimed, a light airy sound that was out of place in the thick atmosphere that threatened to choke her. But Leara welcomed it. She’d been avoiding the truth of her talk with Balgruuf and the plan to trap a dragon in his keep all week. It’d been painfully easy to distract Bishop from her near-confession with a kiss and a bit of heavy petting, but she could only stop him on the cusp of unbuckling her armor so many times before he snapped. Yet as much as she didn’t want to admit to the Dragonsreach plan, a greater part of her didn’t want to sleep with Bishop. Divines save her, she didn’t even want to kiss him!

But it was necessary.

She feared the day when she would believe sleeping with him would be a necessity, too.

Suddenly, the air was too warm, claustrophobic, and Leara realized that, yes, she could suffocate in her hood. She busied her hands by pushing it back from her hair, avoiding Bishop’s intensity with forced composure.

“Sweetheart, I—"

A throat cleared nearby. “Forgive me for intruding, my lady, but I believe you are whom I am looking for. Are you the Dragonborn?”

The jolt that rocked through Leara was so violent that she was stunned when, a moment later, she realized she was still standing. Her mind had wandered too far, she needed to come back. Karnwyr growled, his side pressed into her leg. Bishop scowled, and for a fleeting heartbeat, she thought it was directed at her. But no, it was toward the voice. Wrenching around, Leara locked eyes with a tall man wearing gleaming knight’s armor. Very out of place in Skyrim, but, she mused, perhaps not so much in imperialized Solitude as it would be in Whiterun or Riften. His dark hair was swept to the side, neatly combed and totally untouched by sweat or exertion. He had to have muscles. He couldn’t wear a heavy suit of armor like that without them. But somehow Leara doubted this man did much fighting, real or otherwise.

And . . . he just asked if she was the Dragonborn.

“Yes, I am,” she said, tone thin. For once, could she go somewhere without people somehow automatically knowing she’s the Dragonborn? “And who are you?”

“Oh brother, that is just great,” Bishop groaned.

“My lady,” the knight took her hand, bowing over it, “my name is Casavir. I have been searching for the Dragonborn for some time now, in hopes of aiding you in your journey to keep the dragons at bay. I would like to offer my assistance.”

Leara gaped at him, her hand caught in his as her mind tried to catch up with his proposition. Assistance with, with the dragons? Wait, Casavir? The name tugged at something in her memory – and then she recalled a golden quiff and a snobbish voice telling her about being arrested just for performing a bit of on-the-nose magic in the Solitude streets. Darren. Winterhold. Of course. That unfortunate little mage whose nose met the business end of Bishop’s fragile masculinity. Yes, she remembered now. He mentioned Casavir as being offended by his good fun.

Recalling Darren’s definition of ‘good fun,’ Leara concluded that Casavir’s ego was as delicate as Bishop’s. Yeah, no thanks. She didn’t need that hovering over her shoulder. There was enough to deal with when it was just Bishop whining in her ear.

“If it isn’t everybody’s favorite white knight,” Bishop sneered. “I was not expecting to run into you here, but the irony of it all definitely suits you. What brings you to a bookshop of all places? I think you’re looking for that other one, the spicy one.”

Clearing her throat, Leara made to pull her hand from the gloved grip, but Casavir held on. The glare he shot Bishop was anything but chivalrous. “I merely wish to assist her, much as I imagine you are doing now, Bishop.”

Bishop scoffed, suddenly too close to Leara’s shoulder. Air closed in around her. It was still too warm. “Do I look like some nerdy clerk to you? Listen up, she doesn’t need you. Go help someone who wants your holy righteousness, it’s not wanted here.” With that, he latched onto her arm.

Casavir drew her other hand closer to him, and Leara felt caught in a tug-o’-war between two children. “At least with me her moral aptitude wouldn’t plummet to the flaming depths of Oblivion, which I’m sure in your company, it has been sorely tempted to do!”

“You think a little too highly of yourself, Paladin!” Bishop laughed, cold. “With you along, she’d get so bored she’d sprint and dive headfirst into those flames, anything to make her feel alive—”

“That’s enough, both of you,” Leara heard herself say. Akatosh, but she sounded far steadier than she felt! She needed to lie down. Or at least get out from the streams of hot air blasted her from both directions. “Now, if you would be so kind—” She pulled at her hand.

Casavir dropped it. “Forgive me, my lady. I—”

“And here it is! Viarmo’s annotated Prose Edda, bound right here in Solitude by our own Bards College!”

Free of Casavir, Leara yanked herself away from Bishop to meet the shopkeeper. The old Breton buzzed to the counter, a large volume bound in emerald-dyed leather. It had to be several hundred pages in length. The cover was embossed with runic flowers and interconnecting lines crisscrossed with geometric precision. This was properly Nordic in its entirety. It was beautiful. Leara traced a thin finger lightly across the pattern in awe. “How much?”

The twinkle in the clerk’s eyes was amplified by his spectacles. “New release, forty septims!”

Air strangled in Leara’s throat. “Forty . . .?”

The shopkeeper beamed.

Well, that was more expensive than she anticipated. Still, she recalled books made with similar craftsmanship and significance going for twice that in The First Edition in the Imperial City. Three times that on a good day, if Lux Hebenus was in the mood to haggle. “That’s,” a lot, but then, if she didn’t get any other books, it might be justifiable. And besides, she quickly reminded herself, keeping up with Bishop cost her a great deal more than forty septims! If he could waste money on booze and bail money, she could buy a book. “I’ve got that right here,” she said, fishing her coin purse from her satchel.

Forty septims. Well, she was going to miss dinner reading anyway.

“Thank you, miss! Will that be all?” the shopkeeper asked.

The soft smile Leara offered him hardened when she turned around to find both Bishop and Casavir missing. Sitting primly beside a table overflowing with cookbooks, Karnwyr blinked at her and smiled, his tongue hanging. The bell over the door hadn’t rung, so she was sure they were still in the shop somewhere, probably in the stacks. She entertained taking Karnwyr and her new book and just skipping out, but quickly decided against it. As much as she didn’t want to get between whatever in Oblivion was going on between Bishop and Casavir, she remembered all too well the visceral hatred that twisted Bishop’s face at the mere mention of Casavir’s name. Then there was what happened when she left Bishop alone with Alec to consider. Sure, Alec annoyed Bishop, but it was nothing compared to the disdain he’d shown back in Winterhold. On top of that, Alec was just a bard; there wasn’t much he could do against Bishop’s ire but cry. Casavir was apparently a knight, and had a known history of arresting people who bothered him. Sure, Bishop got on her nerves too, but money for his fines was not in her limited budget. Besides, an uneasy feeling prodded her, if she couldn’t bail Bishop out, the threat of his exposing her as a former Dominion agent hung over her head. As much as she feared Ulfric Stormcloak’s anger, the wrath of the Aldmeri Dominion was far worse. If they found her, if they caught her . . . And weren’t they already hunting her, anyway? The last thing she needed was for the Thalmor to realize that the Dragonborn Blades agent and a known deserter from the war were the same person.

Bile clawed at her throat. Leara swallowed.

It was best to keep her thumb on Bishop.

“I think I’ll just browse if you don’t mind,” she said over her shoulder to the shopkeeper.

“Of course, of course!” he said, jovial. “There’s a bit of work I’ve got in the backroom, but please call out if you need anything!”

“Thanks,” Leara nodded, already beelining for the shelves. Where were they?

Karnwyr squinted at her, then shook as head. Leara sighed. “C’mon, boy.”

The shelves were stacked high to the ceiling. Passing by a ladder, Leara wondered if the old Breton had an assistant who stocked the top shelves and retrieved books for customers. She used to do that. Maybe if she survived, she could do that again, if being a living legend didn’t work out. Fingering a copy of The Eight Divines, Newly Revised, she again contemplated her idea of becoming a priestess of Akatosh. There was a comfort in religious ritual and piety, but there was a danger, too, if history was worth believing.

Her expression soured. She knew that, too.

A murmur of voices plucked at her ear. Down the narrow aisle and around a corner, she followed the charged hum until she was just out of sight.

“So that’s it. You want to know all about the Dragonborn, don’t you?” Bishop was saying. “You must be getting pretty knotted up if you’re lowering yourself to talk to the likes of me!” His laugh was coarse.

Casavir’s huffed in indignation. “It has nothing to do with her!”

“Oh, you can cut that crap out right now because you and I know both know damn well that there’s nothing else you’d want to discuss with me!”

There was a low growl – Casavir? “I am watching you, Bishop. I do not trust you, and neither should she.”

Karnwyr squinted at her, and Leara cast Muffle over the two of them just as a low whine rung itself from the wolf’s throat.

“Shh!” she cautioned, finger to her lips though there was no chance of either man hearing them. Karnwyr lowered himself to the floor, his head on his paws.

“Are you serious?” Bishop was saying. “That’s all you’ve got? You must be the hundredth lust-filled, lick her boots, sing her praises maniac that’s tried to warn her off me.” There was a pause; Leara could imagine him shaking his head in contempt. “Funny though, that’s exactly what I’ve told her before, to steer clear of you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She knows what you do to people who cross you funny. She’s been around. And when we’re done here, I’ll tell her more. I’m going to make her see that you’re not half the saint that you pretend to be.” Bishop’s voice lowered, direct. “You’re the worst kind of liar, Casavir, and do you wanna know why? You’re so desperate for people to accept the image you put on that you convince yourself that what they see is the truth. You’re a brown-noser who can’t put his vices to bed. Tell me, when you look in a mirror, what do you see? I bet you’ve even got your reflection brainwashed.”

“Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth!”

What in Oblivion? What in the realms of the Princes was going on between them? Leara sank to the floor, her Muffle spell hushing the clank and thud of her armor hitting the wooden slats. By the Nine, what?

“No, no way, this goes way deeper than that. There’s not an ounce of honesty in those eyes.” A dark chuckle. “Go on, make your little proposal. She’s too good for you, and she’s gonna see straight through that mask you put on. If – if – she says yes, I know how this’ll go. You may begin the night as this ‘saint’ paladin. But the man in you will want that wench in his bed, just as any red-blooded man would.”

What the bloody Hell?

“How dare you speak of her that way!” Leara barely registered Casavir’s enraged tone. Her mind was whirling. What were they even talking about?

She didn’t want in anyone’s bed! She didn’t even have her own bed. She wished people would stop trying to get her in theirs!

A warm tongue caressed her shaking hand, then a soft head pushed up on it. Reflexively, Leara began scratching behind Karnwyr’s ears. The wolf’s big brown eyes were on her, wide and warm. Constant, caring, comforting. Leara sucked in a breath, and held it, and then let go. She did this three more times.

Bishop was still talking. He was always talking.

“Don’t show off like another one of her sycophants. She doesn’t need you or anyone else to jump between her and a dragon’s teeth. No, she’s more than capable of defending her own honor. Your lust blinds you to that fact, and to the fact that she’s too much woman for you to handle.” Was there a compliment in there somewhere? Or was she a tool used to emasculate Casavir? “No,” Bishop continued, smug, “what she wants is a man who’s not afraid of making the hard decisions, who will do what must be done. She wants a man who’s a sight more honest than anyone who wears a temple’s cloak on their shoulder. A man who carries himself like some kind of standard for others to look up to—”

Leara was on her feet and out of the shop before either man even realized she was there.

·•★•·

“There you are, sweetness. I was wondering where you got off to.”

Leara didn’t turn away from the well. At the sound of footsteps, she simply sighed and continued to stare into the abyss below. So dark, so deep. Like the Void.

“Fair warning, Sir Dickwad is coming over.”

Was he? Ice crept along the weathered stones from her hand.

“My advice, ignore him. Actually, better idea, let’s walk away now—”

“My lady, forgive me for intruding,” Casavir’s lower timber cut through Bishop’s like an axe. “There was something I wished to discuss with you.” A pause. “Away from intruding interlopers.”

“What is it?” Leara asked, not caring whether Bishop was there or not. Casavir seemed to already have told him anyway, if she understood their exchange in The Prints and the Paper. Bishop knew what Casavir wanted and seemed keen to degrade him for it. And while she wasn’t overeager to humiliate others, the implications of their conversation, the idea that she was just another pretty face whose only enduring quality was to tempt men to destruction, was unsettling. Was that why so many men were obsessed with her? Because they saw her as some seductress like, like Mephala? A spider who, once she had a fly in her web, drained them of their youth and vitality until all that was left was a decayed husk.

And men wanted that. Men wanted that.

“I know we’ve just met, my lady,” Casavir said, unaware or uncaring that she was frozen. “But I want to request your company at a ball being held at the Blue Palace, here in Solitude. I am still new to Solitude, and so I am unfamiliar with the local customs. I was hoping you could offer me some guidance.” Leara watched as ice crawled down the inside well shaft toward the water below. Would it freeze solid? “If you choose to decline, I understand.”

Despite his insinuations in The Prints and the Paper, the urge to spite Bishop seized Leara with the cold fury of her own Frozen Façade spell. The ice in the well cracked and hissed. “Yeah, all right, I’ll go.”

“You what?”

Leara rounded, her hands pushing against the well. Apparently, Bishop hadn’t left, and Casavir didn’t really care about ‘interlopers’ as much as he put on. That made sense. These two seemed especially crafted by the Divines to antagonize each other whenever possible.

“You delight me, my lady,” Casavir purred. He made to take her hand, but thinking better of it, merely bowed – at the bloody waist. “I am overjoyed that you have accepted my request.” Then he shot a smug side-eye at a spluttering Bishop. “May I suggest acquiring a ball gown?”

“What?” Leara said, the implications of her acceptance catching up to her.

“I don’t know, Casavir. Personally, I can’t see you in a dress, but if that’s what you want—”

This time, the glare Casavir shot at Bishop was full-on and filled with poison.

“There’s an excellent shop here in Solitude, called The Jewel,” he said, focusing back on Leara.

“I can’t possibly afford—”

“I am told they have an extensive collection of gowns fit for the noblewomen of Haafingar,” he pressed on, as if not hearing her. Leara’s mouth snapped shut. “I am certain they will have one that interests you. I have already informed the owner of the ship that I will compensate her for anything you wish to purchase.”

“You did?” Her voice was faint.

Casavir’s smirk was shining and suave. “Am I correct to assume you are staying at The Winking Skeever?”

Leara nodded. “Stalker!” Bishop coughed into his hand.

Casavir ignored him. “I will be there at six to escort you to the ball. Until this evening, my fair lady.” And then he really did take her hand and kissed it and Leara wanted to throw up. But she didn’t.

It wasn’t that Casavir saw her as a seductress. No, no, it was worse than that. He saw her as an object, a way to one-up Bishop in whatever Divines-forsaken rivalry the two adolescents had going on.

Leara blinked and then closed her eyes. One heartbeat, two, then ten. She opened her eyes and Casavir was gone. She barely registered the distant sound of his armor clanking, drowned by the steady hum of the crowd as Bishop quickly dominated her vision.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, sweetness,” he said, arms crossed.

“Have I?”

“Yeah, and would you like me to tell you why, or will you continue to throw away my advice like trash?”

She already knew. “Enlighten me.”

“Do you know what Casavir is? He acts like some holy saint who’s the gods’ gift to humanity, but he’s still a man. I don’t care how he justifies the lies he tells himself: He can’t deny his manhood.” Bishop caught Leara’s hands in his, tugging her closer. “You’re the kind of woman that gets a man’s heart beating and the blood flowing. He’s not going to be able to lie to himself about that. So, you better be ready when he breaks.”

Was that a warning? “If you’re worried about me, then why don’t you go too?” Because lack of invitation never stopped him before, she thought, recalling Alec’s performance in the Palace of the Kings. To her surprise, she found herself missing Ulfric, of all things! But, she quickly reasoned, better the threat you know than the one you don’t.

Laughter burst out of Bishop, loud and aghast. “No! Hell, woman! Do I look like some sissy-pants noble? I’d rather walk off the dock than get roped into attending that sort of thing!”

Karnwyr hmphed, and Leara remembered Bishop’s behavior at the performance. Yes, it was best he didn’t come. All the better that his absence was of his own choosing!

“C’mon,” she said, gently disentangling her hands from his. “I need to go get this dress. The sooner, the better.”

“And here I thought we could get a late lunch. Damn paladin ruining perfectly good plans,” Bishop groaned.

Her thoughts turned to the Prose Edda safely tucked into her satchel. Yeah, she could agree with that.

·•★•·

Bells twinkled overhead when she opened the door.

“Hello and welcome to The Jewel,” greeted an Imperial woman in a linen gown cinched with a gold rope. She was light and airy, her face pale. If a breeze swept through, Leara was certain the woman would blow away on a wisp of cloud. “My name is Victoria. Are you the Dragonborn?” Leara barely accented before the woman, Victoria, clasped her hands together. “Casavir informed me that I should be expecting you. Welcome.”

Proof of Casavir’s surety that Leara would agree to this whole ball thing would have been disconcerting if she wasn’t already put off by Victoria’s porcelain nature.

Bishop whistled. “I’ll be damned, that bastard played you like lute!”

Victoria’s smile grew brittle as her eyes slid from Leara to Bishop, and then fell to Karnwyr between them, “Ah, how precious,” she said, clearly thinking Karnwyr was anything but. “I’ll have to ask your companion to take your dog out. It’s our policy, you see,” she said, placating. “No wild animals.”

If a wolf could look unimpressed, Karnwyr did.

“Are you serious?”

Leara wanted to echo Bishop’s disbelief, but she knew better. Lower-end dress shops than this in Daggerfall, Evermore, and the Imperial City had strict no-animal policies. She wanted to kick herself, wishing she’d thought of it and spared herself and Bishop the embarrassment. And Karnwyr.

“It’s fine,” Leara said before Bishop could press the issue. If he shattered Victoria’s serene façade, Leara got the impression the woman would cut him like glass. “You and Karnwyr head back to the Skeever. I’ll finish up here and meet you back there before Casavir comes by. Trust me, dress shopping would bore you to tears,” she said, ignoring Victoria’s sharp inhale.

Bishop rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, ladyship. Let’s go, Karnwyr. I know when we’re not wanted.”

With a backward glance at Leara, Karnwyr followed Bishop out the door, his tail between his legs. Leara watched them go. Bishop didn’t look back. The bells twinkled as he and Karnwyr left, and then Leara was alone with the dress designer.

For all that she enjoyed pretty clothes and sparkling jewels – just as any self-respecting Altmer, half-elven or otherwise – the prospect of being alone to be fitted for a gown to attend a ball she didn’t particularly want to attend was almost as daunting as the coming peace negotiation between General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak. Perhaps more so, given its immediacy.

“Shall we?” Victoria asked. Wagging a dainty finger, she led Leara deeper into the shop. It was a large room, about as big as The Prints and the Paper but all the more spacious for its lack of bookshelves. Windows set high in the upper walls filtered in pale afternoon sunlight. It must have been around two o’clock, Leara thought, as she took in the gossamer drapings and gilded decorations. There was neither rhyme nor reason to the opulent décor, as was usually seen in places where folk tried to emulate the rich while lacking the refined tastes of the aristocracy. The most sensical aspect of the room was the various dress mannequins, each adorned in a gown more extravagant than practical.

A stray thought went back to the blue lace number folded carefully in the bottom of her bag When did she buy that, fifteen years ago? Ten? No, eleven. When she was in Camlorn.

Victoria sailed over to a mannequin outfitted with a heavy gown, its full linen skirt was a dove grey, overlaid with cobalt silk and embroidered with golden lace and delicate bows. Its bodice was set with golden embroidery and capped with small, off-the-shoulder sleeves. Victoria traced the pink sapphire nestled in the dip of the sweetheart neckline. “I had it designed specifically in the likeness of the Blue Palace. My own rendition.” Her voice was dreamy. “Jarl Elisif herself will be wearing the original. This is just a show model. Would you like to browse my finest dress collection?” she asked. “Everything you desire will be given to you, compliments of Casavir.”

The Dominion instilled in its agents a statuesque poise that was only breakable by their superiors. More and more Leara found herself retreating into that familiar state of frosty distance. “Certainly.”

There were dresses in deep jewel tones and in floral pastels. Several had lacy trim, while others were embroidered with metallic gold and silver threads. A startling white piece was studded with white crystal and mithril thread over the bodice; displayed across from it was a crimson piece with a silk bodice and overskirt so black that it matched the Void night in Alduin’s scales. To look at it sent a chill down her spine. Silk was a prominent feature. “Imported from the Summerset Isles,” a smug Victoria sniffed, as if the King of Alinor bequeathed the material to her himself. Leara’s lip curled in distaste; the full skirts and bustles were enough to incur ridicule from the echelons of Altmer society. The tightness of the bodices was another matter entirely. Having a slim waist and narrow hips, Leara knew she would fit into any one of the dresses she chose, but the majority of Solitude’s female populace consisted of powerfully built Nords and willowy but short-waisted Bretons. Who in Oblivion were these dresses even for?

Unwitting, the Blue Palace piece drew her attention. She’d seen Jarl Elisif at the Embassy party. The girl was lovely; after all, she was known as ‘the Fair’ for a reason. Yet the would-be queen’s soft curves and full chest would be positively distorted by one of these gowns. Divines, these dresses weren’t meant for the women of Skyrim. What the Oblivion kind of circus was this fiasco?

Leara trailed past dozens of dresses, lingering just long enough to take in how each piece was absurd in its excess in its own way. There was a dress so brilliantly yellow that Leara could think of nothing but the yellow roses in the Queen’s garden at Castle Daggerfall. Another was of such rich forest green that it would have blended into the vales of the West Weald without issue. The pink was too much, a rose blush touched with the pallor of death. The lavender was little better: Once Leara thought of death, the cascading shades of purple, fading from dusk to dawn, reminded her only of electric arcs and rigor mortis.

The longer she looked, the more dismayed Leara became.

“Perhaps one of these?” Victoria offered.

Leara found herself faced with a pair of dresses in deep emerald and sapphire respectively. Identical save in the color of their crushed velvet weave, the skirts lacked the evident bustles that were so prominent in the majority of Victoria’s designs. Golden thread in delicate twirls curled up the bodice from the waistline, reaching across the velvet as creeping vines. Over the Imperial designer’s shoulder, Leara spied the same gowns in ruby and amethyst, dark and vivid. As excessive as they were, there was a certain majesty about these dresses that the others in Victoria’s collection lacked. Caressing the midnight sapphire with a tentative hand, Leara wondered if it was the sameness of their design, like Victoria had settled on one pattern so beautiful that she needed to make it four different ways, each a cardinal point on its own.

“They’re beautiful,” she admitted.

Victoria’s expression of satisfaction was more a sparkle than a beam. “I’m pleased you think so! The sapphire was meant to be Jarl Elisif’s last season, before the ball was canceled.” Her shining eyes shuttered. “What a horrible business, it was! That barbaric Stormcloak murdering such a lovely boy as Torygg! It’s a waste.”

Bile burned at Leara’s throat. Not the sapphire, then. Nor the ruby, she decided, eyeing the Imperial quality of the blood ruby and the aetheric gold. The amethyst was tempting. Cool and enticing in turns, from the velvet dusk to the threaded streams of dawn, it was positively royal in its entirety. Perhaps too much. She was the Dragonborn, not a princess or a Jarl’s wife. Though she almost sneered, if only to herself, she couldn’t see any self-respecting woman in Skyrim choosing a dress from this shop because they wanted to.

She didn’t want to, but she was still doing it. Given how Casavir viewed her, Leara supposed she wasn’t expected to have much self-respect anyway.

“The emerald,” she settled.

“A perfectly wonderful choice!” Victoria simpered. The sapphire was placed back on the hanging rack, as none of the four jewel dresses were on display. The emerald draped over her arm, Victoria led Leara to the back of the showroom. A short hall cut through the back to a room with a screen and a stole. Bolts of fabric were stacked against the walls, filling in gaps between side tables cluttered with sewing implements like thread and needles. A screen dominated one corner, opposite a full floor-length mirror.

“We’ll need to fit the gown, though you appear quite well proportioned, I must say!” Victoria giggled. “My, but doesn’t Sir Casavir have fine taste?”

Fine taste, as in fine taste in women. And ‘women’ in this case meant Leara, singular. She almost grimaced.

Victoria ushered her to the screen, and Leara hurried behind it with mixed relief. The dress was pushed into her hands, along with a shift and stays that Leara certainly didn’t pick out. There was a pair of sunkissed slippers, too, and a bone corset she was certain was an adolescent’s size. Trepidation clung to her muscles as she began stripping off her armor. It came off easily, unstrapping and stacking together in a comforting familiarity. Then her pants and undershirt went, and suddenly Leara was cold. What was she doing, trying on a ball gown she couldn’t afford for a ball she didn’t want to go to?

Leara pulled on the shift.

The corset was its own challenge, but Leara didn’t spend years of her life in Alinor and High Rock without learning to tie a corset by herself. Somewhere beyond the screen, she heard Victoria call out, asking if she needed help, but Leara didn’t answer. She’d been dressing herself since before the woman had even been born, thank you very much, and if Leara could do nothing else, she would continue to do that until age or dragon took her!

Stays in place, Leara stepped into the dress and pulled it up. It was heavy in a way her armor wasn’t, yet not unbearably so. It was cool and stifling and hot and freeing all at once. She tried to cinch the back closed, but unlike the straightforward practice of the corset, the dress’s ties proved far more complicated.

Victoria appeared as soon as Leara called for her. Her hands, making quick work of the ties, had Leara bracing against the wall as they were pulled to a near-constricting bind. As she knotted the ties, a faint and toneless humming whispered from Victoria’s lips. Leara gasped for breath. “Must it be so tight?” she asked. A morbid curiosity begged her to nick a measuring tape and wind it around her waist. She was already on the small side. What’d this do, shrink her measurements to the single digits?

How unnatural.

“It’s the fashion,” Victoria said matter-of-factly as if corsets were meant to suffocate rather than support.

The fashion where? Leara wanted to ask but didn’t.

“There,” Victoria declared. “That is a fine choice! You look stunning, marvelous, absolutely breathtaking! You will have all the men falling at your feet!”

Leara wondered if her face matched the hue of her gown.

Suddenly she wished she’d had lunch, if only so she could have something on her stomach to actually throw up.

Well, there was plenty of opportunity to fall apart before the night was over.

#oc: leara roseblade #last dragonborn #skyrim #bishop #karnwyr #casavir #general tullius #legate rikke #fanfic #ao3 #i didn't know you were keeping count #tes #the elder scrolls #mod post #solitude #grand crystal ball

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