#i gave one of my black goats to the bone lord too since i had a bunch which really helped buff my bone bird

[fangirlings-things]

Ocean Eyes II

OCEAN EYES MASTERLIST

Word count: 5.4K

SET ON 5x12/5x13

A/N: hiiii guys!!! new chapter is finally here!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, this story means a lot to me and I'm glad you're all enjoying it as well!! hope you guys like this one, let me know your thoughts, lots of love 💖

tag list: @castielsangelsx ; @ritual-unions-gotme ; @freckled-lass ; @irrelevantyettopicalusername ; @charming-merlin ; @pieces-by-me ; @desperue || Vikings tag list: @maggiescarborough ; @charmingvalkyrie

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The morning was cold. The sky was heavy with clouds and the breeze seemed to chill everyone's bones. 

You were walking around the royal villa, talking to some of the common people and buying a few things from traders as you usually did. Those moments outside the palace, where the ones you felt like you could really breathe and think. Away from all the power and responsibility that came with the position your family held in society. 

"Do you think the King would like this, Eldara?" you asked your handmaid, helding a black stone in your hand.  It was so dark and beautiful, it reminded you of your brother's eyes. Sunlight seemed to shine upon it and the effect was amazing. 

"I think he would, my Lady. It is a beautiful gift" Eldara smiled dearly at you and you could not help but smile right back at her. You considered her to be the closest to a real friend you ever had. Being a Princess since you were born, stopped you from having many things. Things you would have preferred instead of jewelry and power. 

"Very well then, I will take it" you looked at the very old men who was trading the stone and placed two coins in his hand. The smile he gave you in gratitude enlightened your day and made you run your eyes through the other stones he had to offer, searching for another with the thought that perhaps your mother would like one of those, in mind. 

You eyes ended up falling upon a large stone, that had a deep blue coloration. Such a clean, light blue that it remided you of the eyes of the Northman you had seen from up close in the night before. The one who had held you in place and asked for your honesty. 

A little disturbed for your own thoughts, you thanked the old man for the stone and started to walk away with Eldara following closely behind you, while helding some of the other things you had bought, like paint, as your mother had asked you to. 

You kept on walking around the villa, until you saw something that caught your attention. The Lady Elsewith, walking without her usual servants to one of the stables, inspected the royal villa with her eyes as if she was hiding something. 

It made you frown, as she disappeared inside it in a clear rush. Only a few instants later, Bjorn Ironside entered the same stable without bothering to even look around. Oh no, he would not. He was too proud for that. 

"Eldara, take all this back to my chambers. I will take another look around before returning to the palace" you gave her the stone you had just bought to Alfred, and she placed it inside the basket she carried with your buyings. Bowing in respect, she turned around and walked back to the palace just as you had ordered her to. 

Sighting heavily, now completely alone, you recognized your fears for what you had seen and allowed them to show up in your expression. You were afraid of being right about the matter as you made your way towards the stables. With every step, you wished to turn around and pretend you did not see anything. But you knew you could not. It was too important to just let go. 

You had to know. 

You realized your fears to have been right placed as you watched in horror, Elsewith and Bjorn Ironside kissing each other hungrily inside the stables, away from other's stares. In secret, where no one else would know. The sound of their breaths hissing made you warm with anger, that you felt for both of them. Both of them were betraying Alfred, your twin in that moment and he did not deserve that. Not at all. 

When they finally pulled back from one another Elsewith left the stables without saying a word, but with a smile on her swollen lips. You let her go without seeing you, as you had got into the stables through another entrance. 

You thought about following her, confronting her and accuse her of such an horrible thing to do with your brother. The King! But you declined that idea the moment you saw the convinced smile that curved Bjorn Ironside's lips up. To see him so proud of himself about that made you realize that he was the one who needed confronting, not Elsewith. 

"Is it your wish to break the alliance my brother has made with you?" you stepped out of the hidden corner where you had been standing and walked over to the Northman with determinion, one that always took a hold of you when angered. One that made you not hesitate before doing things and jump into decisions. 

"Do you often spy on people, Lady (Y/N)?" he stared down at you, the irony in his voice as clear as a bright sky. 

"You may be a living legend Bjorn Ironside, but here you are at my brother's service and mercy. Under the command of the King of Wessex. And that woman" you raised your right arm in the air with exasperation and pointed to the space through which Elsewith had gone out. "is his betrothed. So you stay away from her" 

He analyzed you deeply, carefully. There was a spark of interest in his eyes as he did so, as if that argue between you two was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in the past days. "Are you threatening me?" 

"No, I am warning you" you clenched your jaw and dig your finger nails so deep into your palms that they ached in pain. "I will forget that this has happened. But you stay away from the Lady, Bjorn Ironside, or this alliance will have no future" 

"It already does not. My brother and my mother might believe you, but I do not. I am not a fool" he took a step closer and you took a step back in reflex, which you instantly regretted because his smile got bigger. "Alfred will kill my people, just like King Ecbert did. And if that comes to happen, I will do to him what I did to Ecbert. You want to know how your grandfather died?" 

"Don't" you took another step back, suddenly more than afraid of him. Horrified. No, you did not want to know. Had no interest in it. You had already suffered enough without knowing the circumstances of it. 

Your visible fear gave Bjorn more encouragement than he already had. "He died in his roman bathing house" he started, enjoying the moment and you desperately wanted to leave but for some reason, found yourself unable to move. "He cut his own wrists and bleed out like a goat in a sacrifice" tears were already streaming down your face by then and your vision was so blurry that you did not notice the Northman was so close until he whispered his next words in your ear. "There was no honor in his death. Such a great King, had a miserable, little end" 

And then he was gone. 

You just stayed there, crying as you thought about your grandfather. How he had felt. What would have been his last thoughts or wishes. All those feelings overwhelmed you and made you feel like a child again, wanting nothing more than your grandfather's care. One you could not have. 

Your steps out of the stables were taken slowly, one after the other. You could not see a feet away because of the tears in your eyes. Honestly, you did not care. All you wanted was to keep crying. 

You almost fell to ground when your body collided with a much larger one and you would have, if the man's arms had not been closed around your arms and held you up. Blinking to make the tears fall and your vision to be clearer, you saw Ubbe staring down at you with a deep frown of confusion. He semeed almost... worried. 

"What has happened?" he asked, still without letting go of your arms. In that moment, your mind was too far away to even enjoy the warmth of his touch like you had in the previous night. 

Forcing your way out of his grip you ran away from him and the royal villa. Your red dress, waved behind you like a cloth lost in the wind. 

─━─━─━─「⊱✠⊰」──━─━─「⊱✠⊰」━─━─

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" 

Alfred was sitting at one of the tables of the room, signing a few documents that were to be delivered to the Lords of the Witan, matters of the crown you absolutely did not want to know about. At every five seconds, his eyes would go to you before going back to the documents. He had been concerned ever since he saw your face was a little red, which indicated you had clearly been crying. 

"It is not something you should worry about, brother" you smiled at him, turning another page of the book you were reading. It was the middle of the afternoon and even though Bjorn Ironside's words were still in your mind you had been trying to push them away, to be fine in front of others. Your brother needed you beside him with the current mess that was Wessex and you refused to break down and disappoint him. That would not happen. "You have more important matters to attend to" 

"You will always come first, sister" you smiled at each other at that and then, the doors were suddenly opened and Aethelred rushed in with a dangerous expression on his face. You had seen that expression before and did not like it at all. 

"Bishop Cuhtred is dead!" he instantly announced, going towards Alfred's table and stopping in front of it. His eyes sparkled with anger. 

"What?" was all Alfred could mumble out through the shock that hit him and you in that moment. 

"Cuhtred is dead, murdered!" Aethelred's voice got higher and more urgent as he spoke. 

"Murdered?" Alfred frowned. "By who?"

"By Lord Heahmund" your older brother's voice was lower now, as Alfred got up at hearing that answer. "In the cathedral" 

You placed your book down at your lap, closing it. Alfred's reign was so new and yet had more problems than your grandfather's had in years. You could see the pressure on his shoulders by how they hanged low, and the way his eyes seemed to deepen in his skull by each day. 

"Where is Heahmund now?" your twin asked, and his voice was now stern as well as dangerous. You could see the fury building up inside him. You knew why. On the other day, he had refused to give Heahmund his old title as Prince of the Holy Church, since it had been already been given to Lord Cuhtred. Clearly, Heahmund had taken matters into his own hands. 

"Here. In the chapel" as soon as those words left Aethelred's mouth, Alfred stormed out of the room. You knew he was going to the chapel. Aethelred turned around to follow him, but you quickly got up. 

"Aethelred?" you called and he stopped, looking at you for the first time since he had entered the room. "I want to apologize for the things I said before. They were cruel and I regret them. I truly am sorry" 

He did not smile, just nodded his head and then rushed after Alfred because he clearly also wanted to confront Heahmund. 

You sat back at your chair, sighting without knowing if you had been forgiven. 

 ─━─━─━─「⊱✠⊰」─━──━─「⊱✠⊰」━─━─

"My Lady" the guard at the door bowed slightly as you approached the door he had been ordered to guard. 

"Let me pass" you said, holding firmly the metal plate you had in your hands. The guard seemed hesitant only for a moment before stepping to the side and opening up the door to you. As soon as you entered the room that was illuminated only by a few candle lights, he closed it again. 

Your eyes instantly fell upon the man you had gone there to see. He was sitting on the ground, a book in his hands as a calm expression filled his face. When he saw you standing there, he instantly frowned. You clearly were not someone he had expected to see. 

"Lady (Y/N)" he said in surprise, closing the book slowly as he probably tried to understand the point of your visit. 

"I brought you some food, my Lord Heahmund" you sat down on your legs on the ground close to him, then placed the plate in the space between you. You saw how his eyes went to the food with urgency but still, he did not move to take it. "Please, eat"

"I hope you do not find me rude for asking why is the motivation of this kind visit, Lady. I am sure the King has told you what I did to be here now, imprisoned" he smiled minimally. For himself or for you, you did not find out.

"He did tell me and that is exactly why I am here" as you spoke those words, you remembered the earlier discussion between your brothers. You and your mother had watched it without much interference as their argued about what should be the fate of Heahmund, after the declaration that the murder had been committed because of a conspiracy, in which Cuthbert was the heart. That had filled you with fear for your brother. "I need you to look me in the eye and tell me if you were being honest, Lord Heahmund. That if the King were to restore you to your title as Prince of the Holy Church, you would get to the bottom of this conspiracy and name the other members" 

The hint of the previous smile disappeared from Heahmund's face and something very serious took it's place. Leaning slightly forward to get closer to you, he fixed his dark eyes in yours. "I swear in the name of God, Lady, that I will stop this conspiracy. I will give to the King the names of the traitors so that Wessex's Witan can be freed from this evil people"

Perhaps it was the so seemed honesty in his voice and expression, or maybe the urgency and fear you felt, that made you so quickly believe him. That made you decide to side with Alfred to the idea of actually restoring Heahmund to his previous position in the Church. Keep your brother safe from danger was the most important thing in the world for you and if that depended on that man of God, who had killed a fellow holy man inside the house of God, so be it. 

"In that case, if you are really being honest, I will vouch for you, Lord Heahmund. I will advice my brother to restore you to your title and position" you were the one who leaned forward in that moment, wishing to be able to see his soul and his thoughts. What he was really made of. "But remember this, you have sworn in the name of God. If you are lying, your Lord will punish you severely" 

"Your Lord?" he said, in an echo of your own words and you then realized to have said too much. Luckily, he did not insist on the matter and proceeded. "I am aware of the oath I made, my Lady. I can say for sure that I will face no punishments as I was speaking the truth. I want your brother to stay in the throne and rule Wessex. I believe he will be a great King, like your grandfather, King Ecbert, was"

You smiled a little at him, then got up to your feet, fixing the cloth of your dress minimally for a second. "Eat the food. I will send someone later to bring you more and some wine" 

"Thank you, my Lady (Y/N)" he also smiled, bowing with the same amount of respect he always showed the members of royalty. He was an intriguing man, Heahmund. You did think that. 

Once again in the corridors after leaving the room where Heahmund had been imprisoned behind, a million thoughts ran through your mind in a rush. 

Bjorn Ironside's cruelty when speaking of your grandfather. Ubbe's worried look when you bumped into him in the royal villa. Aethelred's distant look when you apologized. The conspiracy to overthrow and assassinate Alfred. 

"Lagertha" you said her name slowly, when she came face to face with you, going to the way you had just left. 

"Lady (Y/N)" she said with a little smile and a deep northern accent. She had a beautiful voice, with such power and impact. It resembled herself a lot. "Are you well?" 

"Yes" you answered and only after you did, the sudden question made you frown. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you ask?" 

"Ubbe told me about what happened at the royal villa this morning" Lagertha took a few more steps in your direction, her white hair amazed you under the candlelights. Being so close to such a strong, incredible woman and she knowing that you had cried in public, made your cheeks red with embarrassment. "He is worried about you" 

That made your shame slip away and focus only in what she had just said. "Is he?" it came out as barely a whisper, but she heard and nodded in confirmation. You could see her inspecting you with utter attention, as if trying to understand who you were and your intentions completely. "I ask you to thank him for the kind concern, but I am well. Nothing has happened" 

"It is a lie" she said and your eyes widened for the sudden affirmation, made with such confidence. "Something has happened and I think it is related to my son" 

"Why would you..." you began, but she interrupted you almost at the very same moment. 

"I know my son. When Ubbe spoke about you and what happened in the royal villa, how you bumped into each other, I saw Bjorn's face. I saw the smile he carried and I knew he was involved" you looked down at your feet, feeling embarrassed again and even more than that, you felt how he had deeply hurt you with his words earlier. How he had told you something you absolutely did not wish to know. "Listen to me, dear child" Lagertha placed her hands on the sides of your face and made you stare at her in the eyes again. Hers were blue, but not as blue as Ubbe's. No eyes were like his. "My son is a difficult, stubborn man and I suppose me and Ragnar are the one's to blame for that. Bjorn can be reckless and rough, but believe me when I say that he wants this alliance to work. He knows it's value and he is thankful for the King having stood by us but his pride, makes it almost impossible to be seen" 

"Thank you, Lagertha" you said, trying hardly to believe her words. You wanted to belive that Bjorn Ironside was not a horrible person. But after that morning, you found it to be very difficult. The North woman smiled and then walked by you, continuing on her way, the one you had just come from. 

You knew, in your heart, that she was going to see Heahmund. 

─━─━─━─「⊱✠⊰」──━─━─「⊱✠⊰」━─━─

"Hello, grandfather" 

You were sitting in the stairs that led to the altar where King Ecbert had been buried. You had your back to the altar and your eyes in the doors you had closed after entering that place, alone. Your arms rested in your knees and your hair fell upon your shoulders and chest, because you held your head down. In that place, away from everyone, you felt like you could show some real fragility. 

"I am sorry for disturbing your sleep, again as I have done before, but I had to talk to you" you swallowed hard and sighted. "There is so much going on. Alfred is sitting in the throne and trying his best to keep it, but the Witan seems to hate him. I fear for his future and the future of Wessex" a cold breeze entered through one of the open windows and a shiver run down your spine. "Also, the Northmen are here. Not a raiding party, just a small group. Two of the sons of Ragnar are here. Bjorn Ironside and Ubbe, I believe you met them before..." your voice died in your throat and you had to take a moment to find it again inside yourself. "Bjorn spoke about your death, grandfather. Even though I did not wish to hear it. He said you killed yourself in your bathing house" the tears came, as you expected them to. It was no surprise when they started to fall down your face. "I know you loved that place. You would spend hours in there" you laughed a little, thinking about it and sighted. "I hope you found peace, grandfather. I know the faith you had in God and I hope you are with him right now, showing him your wisdom"

You fell silent. There was so much to say and yet, so little. You wanted to talk and talk with your grandfather like you used to, but it felt wrong to disturb him. So you turned most of what you wanted to say away, but there was one thing you could not ignore. 

"If you are really in heaven, grandfather, are you also with my father, Athelstan? I believe so, because you always told me that you two were close. So if he is there, please, ask him why does he not love me. Why he keeps not showing himself to me like he does to Alfred" you thought about the other night, how you had called for him but still, there was no answer at all. "What have I ever done wrong to deserve such thing?" 

Suddenly the doors to the room where opened and as you cleaned your tears and tried to look serious and presentable, a guard came in. "My Lady, I am sorry to disturb you" 

"It is not a problem" you sighted and got to your feet, fixing the cloth of your dress so that it would look as it should, and not so kneaded. "What is it?" 

"Ubbe, the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, has asked to speak with you" the guard said, his voice without any emotion as it was typical of the royal guards. They did not show feelings or talked with nothing more than respect towards the royal family. 

"With me and the King?" you said, surprised with that statement. 

"No, my Lady, just you"

"Oh" you could not stop that sound from leaving your mouth. The fact that the Northman wanted to see you and you only, made you feel nervous, but not in a bad way. You truly realized in that moment that you did not fear him. Not Ubbe, who had been nothing but respectful since you met. "Where is he now?"

"Waiting for you in one of the private rooms in the south side of the palace, my Lady. The one next to the Chapel" he explained, as you walked down the few stairs and in his direction.

"Thank you" you smiled at him in gratitude and he flushed in surprise and embarrassment. Some of the guards would always do that when you were actually kind to them and payed them some attention, something the other members of the royal family were not used to do, not even your twin.

─━─━─━─「⊱✠⊰」─━━─━─「⊱✠⊰」━─━─

Only when you stopped at the doors of the room the guard had said the Northman was in, you realized how hard your heart was beating inside your chest. It felt like at some point it would just break it's way through your ribs.

After taking a deep breath you opened just one of the doors and looked inside almost shyly, as if that palace was not your house but his.

Ubbe had leaned his back against one of the stone walls and had his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze was glued to his feet as he seemed to be lost in thoughts. When he saw you standing there, he stood straight and joined his hands in front of his body, respectful as usual. "Lady (Y/N)"

"Ubbe" you got in, closed the door behind you and then slowly made your way towards him. You stopped a few steps away from him, in an acceptable distance, not even close to the proximity you two had shared in the other day, in the dark corridors. "I have been told you wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes" he took a deep breath, as if gaining courage for what he had to say. He averted his eyes from yours and began to feel worried about what he had to say. But then, his ocean eyes found yours again and the expression in his face was agitated, but not necessarily meant something bad. "Me and Torvi, my wife, we accept the King's proposal" he took a few seconds to say the word wife out loud. "We will become christians"

Instantly, your face lit up in a big smile. The sadness you felt before almost forgotten now, after hearing, such unexpected and yet incredibly good for the future, news. "Ubbe, that it's incredible!" you could not contain your excitement and took a few more steps in his direction. "By doing that you are lifting a heavy burden from my brother's shoulders. With the doing of this, the lands of East Anglia can be given to your people in a short time"

"I hope so" he said, squeezing his lips in a thin line. You could see how difficult that was being for him, to accept the deal and become a Christian, renounce his Gods in public. That only made his sacrifice even greater.

"I will inform the King of this great news immediately" you smiled and motioned to walk away, but before you could one of Ubbe's hands closed around your arm. His touch was the same from the other day. Not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Gracious, gentle even. You frowned at him, surprised and confused.

"Why were you crying this morning?" the Northman asked, searching for the answer in your expression and eyes. There they were again, those deep blue ocean eyes so close. "You bumped into me and I saw that you were crying. Now, you seem like you have been crying as well. What is it?"

"I am fine, Ubbe" you averted your eyes from his, wanting to escape but not really though. You wanted him to stop seeking those answers, to forget what he had seen. And yet, you did not want him to let your arm go and walk out of that room without saying more.

"Does it have anything to do with my brother, Bjorn?" you sighted and kept your gaze away from his, the warmth of his touch once more giving you chills. Suddenly, he raised his other hand and gently placed it under your chin, making you raise your head and look him in the eye. The proximity, the moment, his breath that almost touched your face, it was all too much.

"What...?" you began, but he interrupted you soon enough.

"I saw him leaving the stables before you" Ubbe said and as the expression in your face became incredibly sad, something seemed to grown inside his chest. "Did he hurt you?"

You saw something there, a little spark that you did not know what meant. "No. I mean, yes" you motioned to get out his grip and away from him and he did not stop you, just watched as you stopped again a few meters away, your back facing him. "He said some hard things"

You heard Ubbe move behind you, but did not turn around to look. You did not want him to see you like that, so vulnerable. Almost no one ever saw you in such a way.

"What did he say?" he spoke again and in the same moment, you realized how close he stood. If you took just one single, short step back, your back would probably hit his chest. You could feel him there, ghosting, looking you from above like he always did.

"He told me how my grandfather died, even though I did not wish to know" you chuckled sadly, not a single drop of genuine humor in it. "He made it a great speech. About lack of honor and shame" your whole being burned in anger and rage tears fell down your face. "It was horrible. Perverse and cruel. Just... cruel"

Ubbe sighted heavily behind you, the tension in the room so heavy that the air seemed not to be enough. Slowly, he raised his hands and touched your arms upon the sleeves of your dress, for what purpose exactly, even he did not know.

Unlike before though, when he touched you, a rush of thoughts ran through your mind. He was a Northman. You barely knew him. He had taken part in the death of your grandfather. Why did he touch you like that? Like he cared? Why was he so kind to you even though he had no reason to? Just why?

You jumped away from Ubbe's touch, only then turning to look at him. You took in the confusion in his eyes only for a moment before looking away. "I will inform the King and have the ceremony prepared for you and... your wife" like him, you took a few seconds to say wife out loud.

And then, you stormed out. ─━─━─━─「⊱✠⊰」─━━─━─「⊱✠⊰」━─━─

"Before being received into God's Holy Church, you most renoune your former errors"

You saw Ubbe's jaw clenched when Bishop Heahmund said those words. Hear his Gods called erros felt extremely wrong, even for you. Alfred, who stood beside you, looked at you with a little nervousness. The Lords of the Witan were around, their hatred for the Northmen clear in their features. Also, their hate for Bishop Heahmund who by your brother's determination, had been restored to his position as Prince of the Holy Church.

"I renounce my belief" Ubbe said, his voice clear and confident for everyone to hear. You wondered how much those words would have weighted to be said. "In Odin and all the other pagan gods"

You heard a grunt to your left and from the corner of your eye, you saw how Bjorn Ironside's face was twisted into anger. The Lord's rage was nothing compared to the one that Bjorn showed. Beside him, Lagertha's face was stern and incapable to read.

"I renounce my belief in Odin and all the other pagan gods" Torvi, Ubbe's wife, said as well.

They were both inside the lake to where the court had gone for the ceremony, with water to their knees. Heahmund was there as well, performing the ceremony.

Slowly, Heahmund approached Ubbe, moving water as he did so. He raised his hands and placed them on each side of Ubbe's neck, his thumb stopping close to his ears. He made Ubbe bow his head a little and then, Heahmund breathed to his forehead, his eyes closed in concentration.

"With my breath, I do exercise this evil spirits which inhabit you" Heahmund said his blessing in latin, first to Ubbe and then towards Torvi. You watched how uncomfortable they seemed and felt some regret, for having them renounce their beliefs like that. "Amen" Heahmund finalized his prayer.

You heard someone spit and turning to the left, you saw Bjorn leaving the place with heavy steps and rage escaping him in every move. You knew he was incredibly mad about the consilium, about his brother becoming a christian. Well, now, it was too late. You could now see that written in Lagertha's stern features.

As the ceremony was almost finished, Ubbe and Torvi turned to look at Alfred. They stared deep into the King's eyes, the unspoken words there more than clear. We did our part. Now do yours. Your brother moved his head in affirmation, and then Ubbe's eyes fell on you. The conversation you had shared in the previous day ran through both of your minds. While you remembered his touch, he remembered how sad you looked.

And the consilium seemed to be over in that very moment, as you forgot about everyone else and stared into his ocean eyes.

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #vikings imagine #vikings #history vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings series #series #ubbe ragnarson #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe #ubbe x reader #vikings ubbe #ubbe imagine #ubbe fanfiction #ubbe smut #ubbe lothbrok

[lyriavsuniverse]

🌘A “little” talk about S&B🌒

Obviously spoilers

Starting with the not so bad stuff so I can fangirl while writing this longer :)

I have 2,5 problems with it. I know nothing can’t be perfect these are just little things that I found a little weird

“Call me Alexander”

This is a little flaw for someone but not so much for someone else. I accept the originality of this adaptation, the changes in the plot and everything around, but I found myself as the person who didn’t like as much.

His name is something very, very personal. Something very close to his heart and I don’t personally think this line and his name overall should be said in this season. In the prequel part (that by the way was absolutely incredible) yes I didn’t mind it there and it made sense since back then he wasn’t the Darkling/General Kirigan

The pacing of the show.

This is again just my problem, but I’ve found the pacing strange. The pacing of the first two episodes was good, it corresponded to the events currently happening.

Episodes 3 and 4 felt rushed to me and like it was all stitched together just for the plot to happen so we could move on. Fortunately this was fixed the pace went back like it was in first two episodes and let watch this masterpiece not confused over the timeline and in peace

Amplifiers

If you’re reading this all the way here, you knew this was coming.

It was so weird and in some moments disgusting. I felt a bit triggered by Alina’s antlers and the way it looked until it got “absorbed” into Alina’s chest.

This brings me to conclusion that we won’t see her iconic amplifiers in the show anymore, and I wonder how will they “fall off” if we get third season.

——————————————————————————

But let’s not talk about the negatives anymore. There are many, many, many positives about this show let me tell you that, so first of all:

The soundtrack

It gave me literal chills. Beautiful music, well combined with the plot it was set into. Joseph Trapanese really outdid himself and created masterpiece I will be listening to for a really long time.

Overall aesthetic of the show

It’s was just absolute blessing for my eyes. I am a whore for darker aesthetics in general, so this show was absolute delight to watch. Ben Barnes in dramatically flowing black cape only confirmed it.

All the sets and props and costumes were so gorgeous and believable. Seriously right now I have a mood to just put on a kefta and go to Ketterdam.

Good CGI? Check. Check. Check

Milo the Goat

Without a doubt the best character. I won’t say more, ‘cause there are no words to describe it. Along with Jesper they both have astonishing chemist that slaps you right into face, and fills you with so much emotions you want to cry. Seriously I stan.

Casting

Casting directors hats off for the casting you’ve made. All actors perfectly fit into their roles and embody it.

I won’t write about all the characters actors whom they’re played by I just chose the ones who came to my mind while I was writing this. My hands would simply fell off, if I’ve written about all of them.

Kit Young as Jesper need I say more? He was just incredible. Charming, witty, just everything Jesper needs to be.

Jessie is the best Alina we could all wish for let’s be honest. Her snarky comments and personality is phenomenally portrayed by Jessie, and it only confirms that they are one very underrated actor.

Ben Barnes hot as fuck and even more talented. When he said he’s gonna make Alexander justice, i was a bit sceptical. Questions came into my mind. Like, what did he meant? Will he change his personality to make his go full on good old fashioned villain, that you see in every other movie? Or will he go vice versa and make him too heroic? I can safely say these questions we all unnecessary concern. Ben did him justice, kept ALL personality traits and his mysterious aura he has around him. And when he said THAT ONE LINE I simply died.

Shadow and Bone x Six of Crows crossover

The plot with the crows was I’d say combined well. I was always in a track what was happening and what time line it was placed in. The interaction didn’t feel forced and like crows were just squeezed into the storyline to be there. Alina and Inej interaction was so sweet. Alina gave her a knife and I can go watch the show again in peace.

The ending

Dear lord, hear my prayers it got me screaming Nichevoya (hope it is spelled like this) over and over again while running through my apartment back and forth. I seriously can’t cope and think about anything else to be honest.

I could write like billion pages about this and have like two more billion points to say about it, but I had to keep it short and if you’ve read it all the way here I’m sending you a cookie 🍪

@netflix please give me season two right now I can’t wait another two years until it comes out

#grishaverse #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #sab spoilers #s&b spoilers #free rein #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #the darkling #alina starkov #six of crows #malyen oretsev #inej ghafa #milo the goat

[pettyelves]

three’s a crowd

[Hostage Remix]

A trip to the Darkmoon Faire was spent absently watching Aydri and Shaedoril in the beginnings of a love story. In clashing competitions, and sharing of sugar-coated treats, the Kaldorei were a smart match. 

Mirin and Zelphryin did not share romantic competition, little gifts or giggles between them. They shared. Simply. An understanding. He walked a half pace behind her and she a pace behind Aydri and Shaedoril up the path to the sage who gave out slips of paper filled with fortunes.

“To seek a diviner’s advice is to invite another into your mind,” Zelphryin said, when Aydri and Shae persisted that he get a fortune. Mirin found them interesting-- not for magical services, but the way they seemed to know the subtle cues and codes in people’s words and eyes. 

An enemy of your past will soon become an ally. 

Read the fortune given to Mirin’s slender fingers. She had thought this fortune was one steamy shower too late. Zelphryin spent the remainder of his time making subtle remarks aimed at Aydri, propositions meant to ruffle Shaedoril’s feathers as much as her own. Before he left, he’d spent a child up to Mirin with a note that said only: 

Provocation.

In Stormwind, Zelphryin warned Mirin that if he came to finish what they had started two nights before in the bathhouse-- she would have to share. It had surprised him to know that she was open to such a proposition. 

From the top floor of the Astral Rise, Mirin’s balcony was situated just so that she could see across to his door. Even so late at night-- no visitor. She was dressed in a sheer gown, short heels, and stockings that fell mid-thigh and the final item was a coat that covered all of it.

She knocked on the door a single time. Though she guessed that he must have strolled leisurely though the hall to greet her. In her hand, she held up the uneaten truffle. "I had the thought to share," she said, dipping her head back to look up at him. "Miss Mirin," he said with a grin and opened the door wider to allow her in. "How generous, truly, but I am afraid the evenings main event has cold feet. I was just about to head out the Cock and Candle. You are welcome to a accompany, of course. All expenses paid."

The way he called her Miss raked her stomach in a way that she could not decide. It punched her pride, but pulled something much lower in her toward him. Provocation.  "Lady," she corrected and moved forward. "No," she said, "I do not think that is on the agenda for this evening." Tonight, she boldly placed her hand on his chest and pressed him backward. Not hard, but enough so that she might enter and the door left to shut behind her.

 "Take me to your bedroom," it was another even demand.

By the belt of her coat, he walked her backward-- pleased or at the very least intrigued by her boldness. The room itself was modern but largely inconsequential as Mirin’s goal was the bed. A dresser cabinet, a second dresser, a decorative lounge chair, two night stands and a very large framed bed. The particular sheet design was not like anything sold in Dead Sun. It was painstakingly quilted by hand with what looked like small thin beads of actual gold used to embellish its patterning. And so many... many pillows.

“You may want to turn down that very well-crafted cover, Zelphryin,” she said, pulling herself from of her coat. "I assure you Miss Mirin, the ruin of this gold comforter should be the least of concerns," his jacket was abandoned more quickly, hands gripping her flesh-- kisses hard against her lips. When her back hit the bed she hissed out a final correction, “Lady.”

They dove into one another in a manner that was slow and firm, greedy. Another understanding that violent indulgence was most certainly part of whatever their unspoken agreement had become. 

Rounds in, he had just lifted her up into her life and pressed hard kiss against her collar. So distracted, neither heard the first knock at the door.

"Maybe our other participant has had a change of heart,” Zelphryin offered, with slight irritation."Perhaps the first lesson to learn her will be punctuality." She let herself fall back into the many pillows, a smirk at him as he collected himself. 

He withdrew from her slowly, collected his dress pants from off the floor. He used the sweat on his brow to smooth back his hair and hemomancy played its own minor role in aiding to compose himself by the time he reached  his front door to open it.

 Eventually she managed to stand to look in a mirror and clean herself, mostly attending to her hair. From her position, she could stare straight down the hall to the dirty-blonde human woman that shyly offered Zelphryin chocolates.The two of them locked eyes at a distance, but Zelphryin spoke, “I fear your lateness has caused you to miss both appetizer and entree...But it appears that your timing is spot on for dessert."

"L-late? Oh I suppose, I just didn't..want to arrive too early. Who is that?" She asked. Her skin. Her whole body was cold to the touch, emitting none of the heat Zelphryin did. "Shouldn't we..have introductions. W-wine and dessert?" The name given at the registry was Leigh Groves, and Zelphryin led her right too Mirin’s grasp. 

"That,"  The hand on her waist drifted further to the front of her commoner's dress where he tugged loose the thin corded tie that allowed it to fit slightly more figure friendly. "Is my assistant, Miss Mirin. She is going to help you dress appropriately for the occasion while I retrieve you that glass of wine."

"He means Lady," Mirin said, unabashedly leaning to clean the bottom of her lip stain."While I am not his assistant, I will help you dress." She gestured, "I suggest you sew or purchase a black dress. A tight one. It should suit your..budget and black dresses are very easily mistaken for expensive." Mirin's fingers were more delicate than Zelphryin's, when she wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. "Since you've not brought a dress," she said, leaning to the woman's ear, "Let us hope what is underneath will suffice." Mirin noticed just then, how cold the woman's cheek was against hers. "Did you come in from the snow?" There was silence in the next room. 

Something churned in Mirin’s stomach.Dread. Doubt. A warning?

“You are so lovely," she said, rubbing her freezing face into Mirin's chest. Mirin froze up at this sudden display of clinging. 

"So  I have been told," Mirin said, a raised brow as she watched her place clumsy, cold kisses down to the sigil tattoo on her lower chest bone. "Do you have Lord Shol'Shar's eyes, Lady Mirin?" The blonde asked as she rubbed the skin of her cheek against Mirin's beige skin. Mirin's eyes went wide. A moment where every alarm bell in her body began ringing. The woman's face raised to look at Mirin, eyes milky and skin paling. A single word came from the woman’s lips: 

“Break.”

Almost in tandum, a firm but calm toned Zelphryin said, “Mirin~” She answered, just as calm, “I know.” The truffles within the chocolate box, popped like eggs, hosting slugs from the witch Morrigan. 

In seconds, Zelphryin’s shadows twisted from the ceiling as chains to bind the corpse-proxy in place. Mirin pushed away from the woman, just before the chains descended, but it was not in time to stop the second spell. 

“Swarm,” came a voice that was not Leigh's, out of her mouth-- and immediately followed by a mouth full of swarming flies that crashed into Mirin's face. The chains wrapped up the attacker and her head swung around limply. "Show us. Show us!" She gurgled out. 

Mirin swatted and flailed against the flies that crashed against her face like a wave. So fixed on killing the proxy, Zelphryin had not noticed the slug burrowing into his ankle. He crossed through the room around them and pulled a bone dagger from a box on his dresser and rammed into the corpse’s head. 

Mirin felt the pressure on her mind and she staggered out of her heels toward Zelphryin. The rune on her chest began to pulsate with an old and dark magic. It was likely she was fighting the control.

As Mirin staggered towards him, his face remained mostly shielded from view by a curtain of black hair. In those short seconds it appeared as though he had redeemed control as the hand on the side of his head fell away and reached out to her invitingly. The tips of his fingers walked along and around the bare skin of her waist, drawing her comfortingly towards him and into his side as he peeled himself up into a stand. A sensual touch of his other hand started up her arm and the angle of his head made it seem as though he were inspecting her for injury. Until he looked up at her face.

Amber eyes had been swallowed by a blackness pitcher than a starless night and black veins reached out from around them across his face in a spiderwebbing pattern. As they locked with her's, both hands snapped around her tender throat. Driving his thumbs up into the tender gap of her hollow.He was far stronger than he looked.

Mirin was not hurt physically, so much as she was suffering from a massive migraine in one side of her head. Inside of her head, there was a game of cat and mouse. What her attacker didn't realize, yet was Mirin was a very clever mouse.

Talking wasn't easy, she started with inaudible whispers to ask if he was alright. Her hand fell on his bare skin and she struggled to main her eyes from changing. After all, some secrets were better left between them. She let out a shaking 'mmm' as though his touch relieved her. Relief that was short lived.

When he gripped, Mirin's eyes opened wider than was natural an audible choke. Her instinct was to try and pry his hands from her neck, but physical strength was not her suit. Slowly, her pupils shifted. Black bars that were not unlike the eye's of a goat. "Zelphryin," she mouthed it, but had no air to say it. Her fingers clawed at him, but when she realized that her attacker-- both the proxy, and the one in her head were in position. She snapped her trap.

The rune on her chest ignited with dark magic and practically burned on her skin with shadows. A hand reached clumsily cover his eyes and she threw her shadow at him with the utmost vigor. It was not unlike the connect they had first shared in his kitchen. Mirin's voice spoke a strange spell that came, from her mind to his-- but was likely aimed at the one that pressed on them both.

“Witness the Infinite”

[@kurel-andiel​ for Zelphryin @revthepunchbear​ for Shae @moonbaki​ for Aydri @shaded-hawke​ for Part II ]

#Alt postings #Mirin #The Infinite #Shadeala Moonsong #The Bog Witch

[icedinsomnia]

UnderMoon Part 6

Nick opened his eyes to see Frisk on his left and Flowey on his right.

“What… happened?” Nick sat upright and immediately realized three things. One: he looked like his old self again, still ghostly, but still himself. Second: everyone was here, everyone who was present in the throne room was here. Third: ‘here’ was a white void comprised of nothing.

“Where are we?” Nick rubbed his head, looking from face to face.

“Well genius, if you must know we all got sucked into the Philosophers Stone and are currently unconscious in the throne room. So thanks princy for getting us into this mess!” Flowey hissed, crossing his leaves like arms.

“It was like that. I didn’t do it recently.” Nick tried to reason, but only got disappointed and annoyed faces in return.

“Well since you are the one the stone was originally fused to you have the greatest amount of control. The rest of us are basically here to increase you stats. But hey not much we can do about it.” Sans had a look that sent shivers down Nick’s spine.

“What do we do now?” Nick asked, avoiding Sans’s gaze.

“We continue with the plan.” The human girl spoke up, eyes filled with bloodlust.

“But Chara… he doesn’t know what’s happening…” Flowey spoke up, clearly afraid of the human girl.

“Then let’s explain it to him shall we.” Chara crossed her arms, annoyed and angry.

“Oh! Can the Great Papyrus explain the situation to the young prince?” Papyrus jumped at the opportunity, the others not protesting against it.

“Alright! So basically we are all members of the royal court or children of those members as Frisk has told you. But what we also discovered was that it was the king himself who put us down here! He is using us as black mail or as leverage to get the court to do as he wishes, one being to ignite war with the humans! So we, the remaining members of the not corrupted court, are trying to overthrow the king and stop the war.” Papyrus was very proud of his explanation, Sans and Undyne giving him encouragement as well.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Nick asked. Chara was the one who spoke up.

“The advisor, Lord Gaster, was listening. Even though he was helping us he knew what would happen if the king found out so we had to be extra cautious. Not to mention you don’t remember a thing about why you came here and about anything involving your history with us.” Chara gave Nick a look that made him feel like a target to a missile. It was threatening.

“Well tell me then.” Nick pressed, hoping for more answers.

“I got this.” Undyne spoke up, MK starring at her with awe.

“You see Nick, you were the one who discovered you fathers plans. You recruited each of us to help you by visiting the underground by day and returning at night as to not be affected by the curse. It was working at first… until your father found out what you were doing. So by day you and two others made your way into the underground for good and continued to make preparations. That is until the curse stared affecting you… Gaster, you and Sans were working on a project when you started becoming violent… Sans had to kill you… it was more like the king had taken over Gaster and forced Sans to kill you… then you lost your memories for good…” Undyne gave Nick a pitying look, glancing at Sans occasionally.

“I…I see…” Nick mumbled. He looked to everyone, they had hope in him once. They believed in him. So now, they need to believe in him again.

“Let’s go.” Nick spoke proudly. Everyone’s attention at him.

“I know I may not remember my past, but I swear to you all that I will finish what I started. That’s a royal promise.” Nick smiled, he was scared of what lay ahead. But he knew he couldn’t back down now. The three eyes of the ultimate boss who lay unconscious in the throne room opened for the first time, awake and ready to battle.

 The boss the ten of them created was like nothing they have seen, they had a grey ghostly tail with a black belt and the soul DETERMINATION on it. They have six skeleton like arms, the top two have yellow and gold laced along the arm, the wrist lined with a golden bracelet, the souls AUDACITY on the right and KINDNESS on the left. The middle arms the same as the top but with red instead of yellow, the souls DILIGENCE on the right and INTEGRITY on the left. The lowest arms the same as the other four accept instead of red or yellow it was a light green that wrapped the arms. The souls PERSERVERANCE on the right and GENEROSITY on the left. The arms have short sleeves on them and vines around the forearm. Two oranges spikes jutting out of the sleeves of each arm. The shirt and sleeves are a navy blue color a red belt along the bottom of the shirt, the soul EMPATHY as its focal point, a red scarf wrapped around their neck, headphones sitting atop the scarf, a cream color hood laying lazily on their back, the strings of the hood swaying freely, the souls DEDICATION and COURAGE hanging from the base of the strings. Their blue gills and fins standing out against the pure white of their skin. Their teal hair in pigtails wrapped in pink laces. White horns wrapped in vines and flowers jutting from atop their head, the orange spikes running along their back and goat tail. Their eyes where what seemed to hold the most power, the left eye was like Undyne’s accept that the color was replaced with her new cream colored soul instead of the normal blue color. The right eye was like Sans’s accept it was a vibrant orange to replace the blue. And the third eye in the center of their head was completely red accept for the black iris. The left and right eyes bled black like what Chara’s eyes would do occasionally. And their smile was like Papyrus’s, usually friendly, but in their case… menacing. For laughs they summoned a basic version of their main weapon. It was a combination of the skelebros bones, Undyne’s spears and Asgore’ trident. It was a basic bone shape from the base to the shaft but has a trident tip with spear ends along the sides of the shaft. The other thing they could do was use Muffet’s webs, which were now a navy blue color to match her new soul. Which would be very useful in their upcoming battle. They stood, regaining balance with their new body.

‘We should head right to the barrier and start kicking ass!’ Undyne yelled in their head, making Nick, the main one controlling the body, wince.

“Not so loud Undyne.” Nick, the body, said in a voice that was strong and powerful, but also showed compassion and kindness.

‘Sorry, sorry. But we really should head to the castle right away.’ Undyne quieted down.

‘We can guide you, it’s been a while since I’ve been there but Frisk should have the path memorized, right Frisk?’ Chara susurrated.

‘Yeah, I can take us there. But what do we do when we get there? Just go up and challenge the king? He’s a Litch with powerful magic, not to mention physical attacks won’t work on him…’ Frisk was hesitant, Nick could tell.

“We have my ability Frisk so he can’t use physical attacks against us either. Not to mention we heavily rely on magic, and with you and Chara we also have the ability to do powerful physical attacks.” Nick soothed, hoping to raise Frisk’s spirits.

‘That’s…true… but are you really willing to face off against your own father?’ Frisk asked, concerned.

“I have no memory of the guy, so as far as I’m concerned he’s just another bully I have to deal with…” Nick started them forward to the barrier.

‘Nick… if it becomes too much, let me take the lead…I know I haven’t been the nicest to you but I’ve got your back.’ Sans chimed in, Nick could tell that they were all pumped to finally finish this, and in this powerful form it seems like nothing can get in their way.

“Ok Sans, I will. But for now, all of you save your energy for the battle. We’ll need it.” Nick said, abolishing the barrier, breaking the seemingly endless curse. The sunlight poured its rays on them, cradling them in heat. Nick took a deep breath and readied himself.

“Where to Frisk?” he asked.

‘We need to head north, the castle lies dead north.’ Frisk seemed as nervous as Nick, which he understood completely.

“Alright. Then let’s go!” Nick launched them off the cliff face at a speed so unnatural it seemed physically impossible. And just as they broke contact with the earth a sensation came over them, and just like that they teleported past the tree line and only feet away from a massive lake.

“What?!” Nick alleged startled.

‘Sans was that you?!’ Flowey asked in a harsh tone.

‘It wasn’t me!’ Sans shouted back.

“Ok, so we can teleport, just another thing we can use against the king.” Nick took this turn of events in a positive way, and by using the same determined concentration he had before he teleported away from the lakes edge and to his father’s castle.

#undermoon undertale au

[theoddcatlady]

The Journal

I found this journal among some things in granddad’s attic. As far as I can tell it belonged to some old relative of ours but I’m not sure what I make of it? Maybe one of you guys can give me some help here. Maybe this is some sort of fiction the guy wrote while bored, I can’t imagine running a farm was that entertaining. But at the same time, I really don’t know. Some of the book’s illegible but I’ve inscribed what I can down below.

_ _ _

June 12

Another storm tonight. Real bad one too. Think lightning touched down a few times in the pasture. I’m gonna have to go out tomorrow to make sure nothing’s damaged. Today was good though. Productive. Think Rose is going to have that calf soon- she’s getting bigger by the day.

Alva’s talking about going to Sara’s grave again. I don’t know if me or the boys will have time. She might have to walk there herself. And I wouldn’t say it to her but I miss Sara too. Almost too much. It’s better I stay home.

June 13

Someone was out last night in that damned storm.

Albert found him this morning. He’d let the cows out to graze and went to check on the chickens before he heard a hullaballoo coming from the pasture. He ran out there and found the poor fellow.

It was obvious he’d been out there all night, he was soaked to the bone, naked as the day he was born and for a moment I thought I had a dead man on my land. But when he started to murmur I had Albert and Sven bring him inside while I finished up the chores.

The man’s still not awake. We dressed him and set him by the fire to warm up. He’s fevered but Alva’s a good girl and taking care of him. I’m surprised he’s still alive after being out in the rain all night. Although I’m not holding my breath to see if he survives. The chills might take him before morning.

June 15

He finally woke up.

He’d been out since we found him, mumbling deliriously and didn’t have a clue where he was. But this morning while Alva was sitting by him he opened his eyes, sat up, and asked for water.

The man’s got no memory of who he is or how he ended up in the pasture. I might end up making this month’s trip to town earlier than planned, start asking around. Someone ought to be missing him, and well, he sticks out. Handsome man, strong jaw, hair so blond it’s almost white, and tall. He’s got head and shoulders on me in height. He also has this scar on his back. Not a whipping scar, looks like someone tried to skin him. It’s only recently healed too.

In the meantime I’ll help him get healthy and see if he can handle farmwork.

June 24

We’ve taken to calling our guest Stefan. He seems amused by the choice and likes it, so Stefan he is.

Still no memory, but he’s gotten strong enough to walk around and help keep the house neat. Alva already fancies him, practically lives to help him out and show him around. I can’t say I dislike the man either. He’s quiet, doesn’t speak a harsh word. Since he’s gotten so much better I think I’ll see about having him help me with the cows in the morning.

June 26

Cows don’t like Stefan. I don’t know why. But the minute Stefan steps foot in the barn they panic, start making a ruckus and kick out at anyone who gets near them. I had to make him leave, I didn’t want to panic Rose into losing her calf.

The two goats we got don’t mind him though. The male always seemed to be an ornery thing, especially when we got near his wife, but Stefan can enter their pen without getting butted. So that’s his job now. Takes one more thing off of me and the boy’s plates.

June 27

Alva had a nightmare last night that Rose lost her calf and gave birth to it dead. When Alva got close, the calf exploded into maggots that crawled onto Rose and ate her alive. Hell of a dream. She was pretty shaken up about it, Stefan took over her chores for the day. Good man.

Gonna make that run into town Monday. I’ll bring Stefan with me. See if anyone can place him. It’ll be a darn shame when he goes though. The bruises on my backside are finally fading since I don’t have that damn billy goat charging me every time I go in there.

July 3

No one recognized Stefan. I’m disappointed but also a little relieved. Means he can stay around longer. We don’t mind having an extra mouth to feed here, especially since he’s willing to work. Sleeps in my room now, just so no tongues wag about him sleeping too close to Alva. I won’t have anyone slandering my girl’s name.

Stefan don’t mind the bedroll at least. He’s asleep now, his hair’s still white as the day he appeared. It looks like a halo spread around his head now. His face sometimes twists in his sleep, as if he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. Maybe he’s seeing pieces of who he used to be, but still can’t put together who he is.

Poor man. I can’t imagine not knowing who you are.

July 4

I had a dream last night.

Rose gave birth to her calf, dead like Alva’s dream. But instead of turning into maggots, Stefan walked up to it. His mouth was turned into a grin so disturbing it made me break into cold sweats. He knelt by the calf and pulled it up by the head before biting its throat.

Worms crawled from the wound as Stefan chewed on the spoiled flesh, his teeth turned sharp as knives. He got up and walked to me. I couldn’t run away, I couldn’t move a muscle.

Stefan kissed me, his breath tasted like bitter rot. I could feel the worms from the meat squirming into my mouth and down my throat. I still couldn’t move, and I began to choke on Stefan’s tongue and the worms.

When I woke up, I’d found myself chewing on my blanket. Stefan had woken up and was getting dressed. Time for chores. He asked if I was all right. I lied and said I just had a strange dream.

My mouth still tastes like the worms.

July 6

No more nightmares. None I can remember at least. But I think I’m walking about I my sleep. When I awake in the morning my feet are covered in mud and I got scratches on my legs like I’ve been walking through thorns. Feel like I’ve walked for miles too, my thighs ache.

Stefan’s been a good help though. At night he’s been massaging my back, trying to soothe the pain. Talks about his own dreams and what little he remembers.

I don’t listen to all of it, the man has good hands but Stefan apparently had brothers once upon a time. Lots of them. He wasn’t a farmhand, but he can’t say what he used to do. Not sure if he can’t or he won’t.

Sven and Stefan had an argument. Don’t know about what, but Sven seems to got the idea he’s sweet on Alva. I don’t know where the hell that idea turned up, but Sven’s like his mother. Stubborn once his mind latches onto an idea.

If Stefan wanted to marry Alva though, I’d give that marriage my blessing, if that’s what the both of them wanted. He’d take good care of her.

July 7

The calf was born dead all right. Rose died too. Something must’ve gone wrong, the calf had gotten stuck and that’s what caused the bleeding. Albert found their bodies, the calf still hanging out of Rose’s body half way as they lay in a pool of blood. The stench is so bad, I think it’ll stick into the walls forever.

Trying to salvage what we can by butchering the two of them and salting the meat to save. I’m starting to think Stefan used to be a butcher. He carves meat professionally. I might see if he ever wants to leave to get him started in town as that.  

I hate that I lost a cow. But it ain’t Stefan’s fault no matter what Sven thinks. I think Sven’s been paying a little too much attention in church. Devils don’t walk among man, the son of the Lord made sure of that. They have no power over us.

July 15

I can’t let my children know what happened this afternoon. They’d never look at me the same again.

Stefan and I were out there repairing the fence when he asked if we could go for a walk, farther from the house. So we could be alone. The look in his eyes wasn’t the kind of ‘alone’ that I should’ve agreed to. But I did.

Stefan and I sinned together under the apple tree. I loved Sara, I did, but she never made me feel like Stefan did. It was bliss, like my wedding night all over again. I kissed his hands and praised his name and I only feel guilty because of the risk of getting caught.

It’s our secret. Stefan will live here, just a man with no home and nowhere to go, and we’ll keep on making love like husband and wife. And no one has to know.

July 21

Sven and Stefan had another fight. At first I found it funny since Sven’s still stuck on the idea that Stefan’s wanting to marry Alva, but it turned into shouting and hot anger. Albert tried to get in between the two, try to calm them down, but then Alva fainted, her skirts soaked with blood.

I took her into her room and yelled for Sven to run for the doctor. I had to undress her to if she was injured and that’s when I saw it.

A dead black kitten was curled between her thighs. As far as I can tell, she birthed it.

I hid the cat’s body by the time the doctor came and he diagnosed it as one of those ‘monthly’ things.

I have to talk to Alva tomorrow when she awakens.

July 22

Alva confessed to me witchcraft, but where she admits she learned it from has chilled me to the bone. Stefan gave her the tools to talk to The Devil Himself, to sell her soul to gain his power.

I didn’t believe her, called her a liar and that she’ll burn in hell for tarnishing a good man’s name. She burst into tears and told me everything.

Stefan told her she had a gift, a power that could be unlocked. She at first resisted the idea of calling on the Devil, but he told her how much could be gained. I asked if he was a witch too. She told me he was not… but told me that he was no man either.

I’m going to have to talk to Stefan tomorrow. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. But I will.

July 24

It’s storming again. I still haven’t talked to Stefan. I’ve let him sleep in my bed and kiss my body but I can’t ask him why he turned my daughter to witchcraft. I’m afraid of his answer.

Alva’s strength has returned, and moreso, it’s doubled. I’ve seen more cats. Black ones.

I had to set down my journal, I thought it was hailing but it’s not.

It’s raining toads. Toads and blood.

Ju y 2

I asked Ste an what he was. What he was to have his very presence kill ca ves and turn God loving girls into witches.

 He say (…) fallen from grace and that (…) end until he is gone.

(…)  s go ng to k ll (…)

(This page was stained with bloody water. I can barely read it. The next five are entirely illegible.)

August 17

We buried Sven today. I’ve told the town there was an accident. That the cow had kicked him in the head, that he was killed instantly.

I wish I could say it was instant.

Stefan’s missing. It still rains toads at night. Alva’s gone too, left last night.

Albert’s still here. He’s all I have left. God have mercy on him please.

August 18

Stefan came back last night. He says he wants to stay but he knows I won’t let him.

We both know now his presence brings hatred and death, and although he might not have born ill will to the family who took him in, he could not stop his curse.

I kissed him through the window before I told him if he didn’t get off my property I’d shoot him in the head. He laughed at that.

We both know who’d win a fight. I’m so sorry Sven. I should have listened to you.

All my animals are dead, minus that damned billy goat. Sven is dead. My daughter’s ran into the forest to dance with the witches and marry the Devil. All I have left in this world is Albert. And tomorrow we’re packing up what little we have and getting out of here, so Stefan won’t be able to find us.

I don’t know if I can turn Stefan away again. I’m not strong enough.

#horror stories #scary stories #sixpenceee #sixpenceee stories #demons #witches #my stories

[elenatria]

Tormund’s Wedding XIII

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10614180/chapters/24247644

The first thing that came back was the pain.

Sharp.

Back of the head.

Not dead.

She endured, she always endured, it was her special gift. As a woman she had a higher pain threshold than men, a fact that was always overlooked, one more reason for people to underestimate her. Pain was her signature, her badge of honour, taking more and more until her opponents were too tired to fight back. Then she’d strike. And she would win.

There was the other pain as well, the kind that would wake her up in the middle of the night. A bad dream or a sweet memory, something she used to have, something she had lost, it didn’t matter. If no one was around she would sometimes allow herself to cry. Getting used to that pain did nothing to steel her though, it would always be there, lying dormant, biding its time. One day the heartbreak would be too much to bear. And she would lose.

She tried to lift her arm and reach back but it felt numb and limp, helplessly trapped underneath her heavily breathing torso. Still she could feel the wetness of blood on her skull and the cold hard floor under her beaten cheek.

The second thing that flashed into her mind was the pale frightened face, the desperate scream. She didn’t know how she had ended up on the floor, all she knew was she had to get up to find the auburn haired girl and she had to do it now. She struggled to push herself up but her limbs wouldn’t obey, she just lied on the wet stones face down, paralyzed.

As the seconds passed she was overcome with a vague feeling of worry. The wildling filled her hazy thoughts, the ginger wild man in expensive silver and black garments. He reminded her of an untamed lion with a fiery dusty mane that wore a diamond studded collar and a thick golden chain around his neck, pretending to be someone’s pet, pretending to like it. She would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much.

Was he even alive?

The last thing she remembered was her name; that was it, the missing piece of the puzzle.

Brienne. Get up.

Get. Up.

She forced herself up with a pained groan and traced the back of her head.

Bones. Not broken. Good. It’s all good.

If it had been a serious injury she wouldn’t be able to move so things couldn’t be that bad. She looked around her.

The thick humid air. The darkness. The bars.

She was in the dungeons alright.

As she felt around in the cell trying to figure out how big it was she heard the racket of men coming down the stairs and dragging something heavy with them, some laughing, others cursing. They pulled and yelled and kicked and spat at their load until they brought the man in front of her and dropped him on the floor. She heard keys jangling and as she tried to shake off the throbbing pain that was dulling her senses she froze where she stood. The bloody heap was him; the untamed beast. They had him.

The bald man with the scarred face who had kidnapped Sansa opened the cell door opposite Brienne’s and Tormund howled in pain as a younger man with dirty hay-like hair kicked him in the stomach. Brienne clenched her fists around the bars of her cell.

“Watch it, Finbarre,” one of the others warned him. “We don’t want to wear him down, they will want to get their hands on him first.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now,” Finbarre laughed as he watched Tormund trying to lift himself up, blood dripping out of his mouth. He turned to face Brienne. “What about the bitch, what shall we do with her?”

“We can’t just kill her, not yet anyway, his lordship told me she’s nobility,” the bald man said. “She may have stacks of gold hidden away just for us or a whole army waiting upon her, what do I know. Better be careful with that one.”

Finbarre snorted loudly as he examined her.

“She looks as ugly as all Seven Hells one laid upon the other but I wouldn’t mind having a go at her, even with the blood smearing her ugly mug. Wouldn’t mind at all. She can take a beating, might even like it rough if you know what I mean.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “You like it rough, don’t you. I can tell.”

“I reckoned you liked them frail redheaded ones,” said a gaunt man with a thick black goatee.

“Nay, not that one. The Stark harlot is a gift or so you said, right Emeric?”

“That she is,” the bald man nodded. “And definitely not for the likes of you, you lazy bugger! Now help me lock up this goat fucker before his lordship comes.”

The four men dragged Tormund into his cell. As he tried one last time to get up Finbarre gave him a farewell kick in the head and left him bleeding on the floor. After their work was done they left, their chatter echoing in the dungeons.

Brienne heard Tormund wheezing and coughing out blood. It was very dark but she could still see how beaten up he was, bleeding from the nose and from a big cut in the forehead, wiping his split lip with his silver embroidered sleeve. His expensive clothes were now torn and dirty and his handsome face bruised but for all the beating he took he hadn’t passed out. They wanted him in good shape, whoever they were.

“Tormund…” she whispered. “Tormund! Talk to me. Are you alright?”

Tormund finally managed to sit up. He snorted and spat out blood.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she suggested channeling her inner nurse. “Let it heal.”

“Yes yes yessss…” he nodded as he wiped his bloody hands on his trousers. “I see they caught you too.”

“I found Lady Sansa and little Lord Arryn… He’s not well, he got shot with a poisoned arrow. I got hit in the head as I was examining his wound. So stupid…”

Tormund furrowed his brow in worry.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes…” she nodded touching the back of her head.

“Thank the gods,” he sighed with relief and leaned back on the wall before giving her a mischievous smile. “I always knew that thick head of yours was good for something.”

“This is no laughing matter!...” She let her head hang helplessly trying to conceal her own smile. He always had that effect on her. “How can you laugh?”

“Hush!” he whispered and sprung to his feet as two men were heard coming down the stairs, talking.

Brienne stood up as well.

“I’ll believe it when I see them with my own eyes,” the first man said and looked towards the cells were Brienne and Tormund were held.

Tormund had heard that voice before; he was sure it was at the Great Hall of Winterfell. So many men there, so many… northern lords.

“Ever since Theon Greyjoy burned those orphans and passed them as the Stark boys we’ve grown wary,” the man continued. “Lord Baelish told me I should make sure they’re dead before I go back to Deepwood Motte, the King in the North must never know of this.”

The other man scoffed as he lifted a torch and his face was lit up. Brienne’s suspicions were confirmed; it was Lord Yohn Royce.

“Lord Glover,” he said. “You of all people calling him the King in the North... The irony.”

“He is my king,” Glover insisted. “That doesn’t mean I have to accept all his follies and put up with his wildings, the savages that raided our lands for years and years. What does Jon Snow know of raiding and pillaging? He’s just a boy who lived all his life protected behind the walls of Winterfell whereas we fought those bastards for as long as I can remember. Crossing the Bay of Ice to reach us was nothing to them, did you know that? And now Jon Snow married their leader to the Karhold heir. Next thing I know he’ll order me to give my Erena to some filthy wildling animal as soon as she comes of age.”

Yohn Royce shook his head.

“I wish it hadn’t come to this,” he admitted.

“You have qualms?” Glover chuckled incredulously. “You’re the one who sent me that message from the inn where you spent the night. Don’t back down now.”

“I had to inform Lord Baelish as well as you and the other lords of our whereabouts – and of the fact that the wildling had followed us. Not even Lord Baelish had anticipated that, I didn’t know what to do.”

“You acted wisely, my friend,” Glover reassured him. “There’s no love lost between you and the wildlings either, I heard what you said in that great hall.”

“I’m not doing this for the damnable wildlings,” Royce snapped exasperated. “They can hang the wildling leader for all I care. You know as well as I do that I had no choice, I had to deliver Sansa to Lord Baelish’s men if Robin’s life was to be spared. Before her untimely death his mother entrusted this boy’s life in my hands and Baelish was clear: it was Robin’s life or Sansa’s. I made my choice, my conscience is clear.”

“Lord Baelish is good at blackmailing, you should know that by now,” Glover said. “He’s also good at being in the queen’s good graces. He has many talents, this man. If queen Cersei ever doubted Littefinger’s loyalty to her, having Sansa sent back to King’s Landing will be the biggest gift she could ever receive. Sansa is still accused of king Joffrey’s death as you know.”

“I know, I know…” Royce nodded but now he looked doubtful. He glanced towards Brienne’s cell with a twinge of guilt. “I just… When Lord Baelish told me of his plan back in Karhold I thought one life was enough to keep Robin safe. Now I don’t even know if he’ll survive, someone shot him with a poisoned arrow but no one speaks a word. What I’m saying is… Lady Brienne is innocent, she has nothing to do with all this.”

“You wouldn’t want any witnesses spilling the beans to Jon Snow, would you? Come, Lord Royce, it’s time to rest,” Glover patted Royce’s shoulder. “After all you won’t be the one doing the hanging tomorrow. They’ll be here at dawn, let them deal with those two. And don’t worry about Lord Arryn, I’ll have my maester here before noon, I’ve sent out a raven already.”

Yohn Royce gave one last glance towards Brienne. He looked pale and tired.

“It’s so dark in here… So dark…” he breathed before placing the torch on the wall. One last act of kindness.

The two lords walked out of the dungeons leaving the captives alone. Brienne, who had been holding her breath all this time, turned to face Tormund. She could see him at last. The torch was casting light on his sullen face as he leaned his forehead on the bars, his hands clasping them with silent rage.

“They talked about people coming here tomorrow. Who did they mean?” she asked trying to control her voice and the shivering that was slowly taking over her body.

“I don’t know, Brienne, I don’t know...” he sighed.

When he spoke again his changed voice chilled her to the bone. “All I know is we’ll be dead on the morrow.”

#brienne #tormund's wedding XIII #tormund fanfiction #brienne fanfiction #tormund

[sephythespooky]

Library Cards (a sans/reader fic) Part 6

(first/previous/next)

Talking with Toriel the next day, you expressed how surprised you were to see the skeletons in your house and how comfortable you were with Honey. She chuckled, “I am not surprised, my child. Out of all of them, Honey, Sans, Red, and Syrup are the most alike.”

“Syrup?” you question, and she nods.

“You have not met them, yet, but Syrup and Razzberry are another set of caretakers. Their charge, Sugar, is actually doing very well here. Perhaps I should invite them over tonight to give you a proper introduction?” Toriel always had get togethers on Sunday afternoon, and you smiled at the idea. You agreed, and the kindly goat monster assured you she would do so.

 You came to Toriel’s in one of your better casual outfits, a long sleeve tunic with ‘original’ written on it in golden script and some denim pattern leggings. When the door opened, Toriel beamed, “Ah, my child, wonderful. The brothers are already here. Come in, come in.”

You take her invitation and step forward. Your own skeletons are busy today, though doing what you don’t know. Sans almost never misses Toriel’s butterscotch cinnamon pie, and Papyrus hates not being near Frisk when he can. They’re best friends, with similar energy levels and both eager to play pretend.

Walking in, you notice that only Alphys and Frisk are here out of the usual group, and the two unfamiliar skeletons stand out like sore thumbs. They remind you of Honey and Blue, but oh so much rougher. Frisk sees you and gets up, tugging you toward the skeletons. A shy, brown haired girl peeks at you from around the couch. This must be Sugar.

Frisk puts you in front of the pair, who are looking at you as if you were some fascinating puzzle, then pulls Sugar out of their hiding spot. Sugar blushes and offers her hand, “H-hi. I’m Sugar. Um, it’s nice to meet you.”

“HUMAN! WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO THIS TALL ANNOYANCE?” screeched the smaller skeleton, hopping up to stand on the sofa. “WE HAVE NOT ASSESSED HER DANGER LEVEL YET!”

Sugar sighed and you shook their hand anyway, then turned with them toward the skeletons, “Razzy, please. She’s our librarian and Miss Toriel already approved her to be around all of us.”

“MISS TORIEL IS TOO NICE! I MUST DO SO MYSELF.” Razzberry huffed and put his hands on his hips. His false armor was black and didn’t cover the gap between his ribs and pelvis, leaving the spine uncovered. The purple eyelights  in his skull looked you over suspiciously, leaving your eyes to linger on the three line scar on his left socket.

“HMPH, SHE HAS NO EXPERIENCE IN BATTLE. WHAT A WEAKLING.” He flopped back on the sofa, crossing his arms to show off his purple gloves as he moved his matching boots in frustration, “ARE ALL HUMANS SO STUPID AS TO NOT TRAIN IN COMBAT?”

“maybe just the ones who are like Sugar, m’lord.” Offered the brother, clearly Syrup.

“WELL, THAT DOES MAKE SENSE. YOU SAID SOMETHING SENSIBLE FOR ONCE, MUTT.”

Syrup just nodded and gave you a wink and a smile. He didn’t mind the insult and seemed very relaxed.

Sugar smiled, taking your hand while Frisk clapped excitedly. Toriel called, “Dinner is ready, my dears!”

The group all went to the table, and as you passed her, Alphys murmured, “Um, _____, please be careful. These two a-are from a rough place.”

“I’ve already dealt with Red and Edge, Alphys. I think I can handle a grump berry and a fluff lord.” You giggle softly, and she smiles at you.

“y-you’re so brave. N-no wonder Sans and P-Papyrus love you.” She shuffles away quickly before you can call her on that cryptic note.

 You end up sitting between Frisk and Sugar, with Alphys next to Toriel on Frisk’s other side and Razzberry and Syrup going to the other end of the table.

Sugar asks softly, “Miss ____? Why did you become a librarian?”

“PROBABLY BECAUSE SHE’S NO GOOD AT ANYTHING USEFUL.” You glare at Razz for a minute, then answer.

“Actually, it’s because I thought that helping children read was my calling in life.” You see Syrup look up from the (honestly fantastic) chicken and rice to raise an eyebrow at you. You notice he has a gold tooth just like Red does. Same place, too. “Reading honestly saved my life as a child, and I wanted to help other kids who were in bad places find that escape. Books let me go somewhere when I felt trapped in my life. They gave me friends when I was alone, and gave me the power to fight against evil even when I was so helpless in my real life.”

Frisk pulls on your sleeve and signs worriedly. Toriel translates, “Are you alright, my dear?”

“I am now, yeah. It’s always hard to talk about why I do what I do, but the reward is so worth it.”

“AND WHAT DO YOU GET, HUMAN?” Razzy seems taken aback, almost unsure of himself.

“I get to see how happy every child who comes into my library is, I get to help them find something that will make their life just a bit easier. Helping others brings a joy I was never able to find before.” You beam at him, and see a soft purple blush cover his face.

Syrup speaks up, very gently testing the waters, “since you enjoy reading so much, is there a book you’d recommend for starters?”

That was your favorite question. “Sure! My favorite for older readers is Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynn Jones, and for the younger set, you can’t go wrong with Dr. Seuss’ work.”

“cool. I’ll keep those in mind.” He went back to eating and you did as well, very happy to help.

Razzy was still purple and Sugar asked, “Is something wrong, m’lord?”

“D-DON’T COPY THE MUTT, CHILD,” came the reply but it was softer than his previous voice. “I AM FINE, THOUGH.”

 Frisk, Razzy, and Sugar are playing some sort of racing game on the tv now, and Alphys is helping Toriel with the dishes. You offered to join them, but they both insisted on you getting to know Syrup and Razzy more instead.

Razzy was too caught up in the game to talk, and Syrup seemed happy to just watch, so you sat on the couch with him and did the same. It was a companionable silence, so you didn’t even jump when his quiet voice asked, “So just how rough did you have it, angel?”

“It wasn’t physical violence, just emotional and mental, but it still messed me up,” you reply just as softly. You didn’t feel forced, but something told you that you needed to answer him or he’d be thinking about it all night.

“yeah, I can understand that. Glad you told me, though. ‘s a thing with me, tryin’ to figure out how best to handle people.” He sighed and leaned back, the fluffy fur of his hood dropping behind him. It hit you that he’d had his arm on the couch behind you this whole time and you hadn’t even reacted, and now he pulls you closer so you’re up against his chest. “Angel, just know me’n m’lord know where you’ve been. He’s loud and rough, but we’re coming from a dark place, too. You’ve got my shoulder to cry on, y’know….stuff like that.”

You look up at him, and see his eyes lidded, expression soft and natural. Your heart feels like it’s being cut free of tangling strings. “Thank you, Syrup. I really appreciate that.”

You stay where you are as the other three play games, even when Toriel and Alphys return. After a while, Razzy gets frustrated and growls, “YOU HUMANS ARE GANGING UP ON ME! I SHOULD BE WINNING!”

Frisk giggles and signs something, which Razzy scoffs at, “NO, YOU ARE NOT BETTER THAN ME, HUMAN FRISK, THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE. I MUST SIMPLY BE TIRED.” He gets up and comes to sit on the couch, then frowns. You smile at him as he stares at you and his brother. “MUTT, WHY ARE YOU SITTING WITH THE HUMAN THIS WAY?”

“felt like I should. That okay, m’lord?” Syrup raised a browbone, looking right at Razzy.

The little skelebones huffed and tapped his foot. “I SUPPOSE IT IS NATURAL TO WANT TO SHOW AFFECTION TO A BEING SO MUCH WEAKER THAN US. ALRIGHT. BUT NOW IT IS MY TURN.” He scrambled up to the couch and wriggled in under your arm. He was the same height as Blue, and you beamed at him as he snuggled in close.

“good idea, m’lord.” Syrup mused, a small smirk on his face.

Razzy sighed, hugging around your waist, “HUMAN, YOU ARE WARM AND SOFT. THIS IS NOT ADVISABLE FOR FIGHTING. HOW DID YOU SURVIVE TO ADULTHOOD BEING THIS WAY?”

“I honestly don’t know, Razzy. Luck, I suppose.” You use one hand to stroke his arm bones with your thumb. This makes him blush again as did your saying his name.

“WELL IT IS GOOD YOU HAVE US TO PROTECT YOU NOW. YOU ARE VALUABLE IN TEACHING MY HUMAN THIS READING THING.”

You think he’s just finding an excuse to like you, and you’re alright with that. Avoidance is normal.

Toriel says softly, “Alphys, do you think she might be something special? No one has yet gotten these two so affectionate besides Sugar.”

The little scientist smiled, “I-I think it’s her s-s-soul frequency. It’s pretty c-c-close to most skeletal frequencies, so it’s n-normal they’d feel comfortable with her.”

This made the goat woman sigh happily, “Good. I had worried there would be difficulties in getting the rougher sets acclimated to peace, but if there is an anchor such as her, it will be much simpler.”

“You d-d-do know they’ve all been checking on her?” Alphys murmured. “Sans told me as much. I set up a magic tracker in the library last visit and sh-she’s got so many signals all around. L-like every one of the guardian types has been popping in and out frequently.”

There was a hardness underneath as Toriel answered, “Then they had best behave themselves within my school, Alphys. I won’t stand for any harm coming to this child.”

“I-I know. Sans said he’d be keeping the others in line.” Alphys giggled slightly, “I th-think he might be jealous o-of how well she gets on with them.”

“Perhaps,” Toriel found this information encouraging. She trusted Sans implicitly. “but look at her now.”

She and Alphys both smiled softly as they saw you cheer for the kids as they played. Razzy and Syrup were watching you, and all three of your souls were thrumming in soft comfort.

“I believe she is just as comforted by them as they are by her.” Toriel’s motherly instincts hummed happily. “Our boys are doing well.”

“Y-yes.” Alphys cooed softly, “I j-just hope they don’t s-s-start fighting over her. E-even though that’d make a great anime.”

#undertale fic #undertale

[spuriusbrocoli]

Part One got twelve notes. Maybe this one will be lucky enough to get eleven.

Licking the Wounds

The traders had learned to avoid the pass connecting the Dromoka settlements on the edge of the deserts to the Ojutai’s mountaintops. Unexplained disappearances had become common on what was once the safest route between the two settlements. Rumors of a beast of blood and muscle that would eat living creatures whole, sucking the marrow from the bones, devouring their flesh. There were always stories of blood-drinking fiends with their too-long tongues and false, porcelain faces. But this one was somehow different; it made no such pretenses and devoured out of some ravenous, unknowable hunger.

The leader of the trading band was not a woman to give stock to rumors, but even she gave consideration to the possibility of the monster when deciding how to travel to the mountaintops. After all, the pass was now devoid of bird and beast, and reliable, worldly men had lost their livestock at night. Most were sensible enough to flee before becoming the next victims.

When two of the younger traders -- little more than boys -- asked to take the pass, the leader had flat refused. She wasn’t about to risk life on some fool’s errand. She returned to planning the more circuitous route along the pass. But at dusk, the boys took the best goats they had and set off for the pass. When they reached the Ojutai unscathed three days before the rest of their band, what fools there elders would seem!

FREEDOM FREEDOM AND RAGE BLOOD HUNGER THIRST NEED MUST

The bird flew close to the cave, some pretty things with a blue head and bright green plumage. Humans of the Ojutai could see the resemblance to their feathered dragon lords. They worshipped the creature as a lesser servant of their dragon.

The bird fluttered further into the cave, searching for food. Finding none at the entrance, it began to take flight to leave the place.

A swift, inhumanly-pale hand snatched up the bird mid-air. It squawked in desperate horror, but to no avail. Whatever grabbed it was not a creature of mercy and tore into the flesh of the plumed beauty. Blood spattered, and the wicked creature’s tongue lapped the bird’s torn neck.

Further carnage reduced the bird to exsanguinated ribbons.

NEED ULGROTHA SAFE REST FEED STUMBLE THROUGH NO TOO MUCH NEED STOP STOP

Tentshi was a cautious man. He believed that Ojutai taught caution and patience, far more than risky expedience. The pass was the only logical trade route, avoiding both the sheer cliffs and frigid white tundra. There were plants and game to feed himself, and dragons flew frequently-enough over the mountains that bandits were few. Besides, he knew the way intimately enough to even travel in the dark. Tentshi was assured in his decision to be careful.

After all, his wife was with child. He and Dawo had made a merry game of betting against themselves as to whose child the father was. Their wife just smiled at them, secure that the child would be well-cared for by both regardless.

As Tentshi walked, he saw fewer birds and beasts roaming than his last trip through. And the trees growing alongside the mountains were somehow more menacing, the sky darker and redder than usual. Tentshi would make camp here before nightfall. Better to be cautious and avoid night-travel than to try and rush through the pass. After all, it took at least a day and a half to cross, and Tentshi had been traveling since morning.

He set up the traps, though he expected little to come of them. He was grateful for his foresight in packing more than food enough. And the traps would alert him of bandits coming should any have taken up to using the pass despite the dragons. Tentshi had prepared all he could, still, he slept uneasily.

MONTHS MONTHS YEAR MORE YEAR TOO LONG TIRED NEED NO CAN’T YET MUST THIRST SOON

The trap! Tentshi woke with a start. It is bandits! he thought.

But no bandit was caught in the legs trap. The thing only vaguely resembled a man, with deep red eyes and a bestial glare, white as a corpse all over.

The thing broke free of the leg trap and lunged towards Tentshi. He threw some meat to the side to distract it, but it was having none of that. Its mouth opened horribly wide, lined with fangs and leading into some black abyss.

Tentshi scrambled away, trying to get to his feet, but the man-beast grabbed him by the legs and… bit him.

The beast dug its face into Tentshi’s legs. He kicked and thrashed, but the beast’s grip was iron. Its fangs tore through Tentshi’s clothes and sapped at his blood draining his strength. His flails became more meager and desperate. He started blacking out.

“Please,” Tentshi muttered, barely conscious. “Please, my child, our child, I--”

The bloodsucker ignored him and continued drinking long after Tentshi slipped into unconsciousness.

MORE SOON MORE NEED BUT SOON RETURN NOT YET SOON MORE

The boys’ night in the pass was almost done, but they were tired. They had been traveling since dusk, and it was almost dawn. They figured it would be better to stay awake at night-time, a that was when all the disappearances had taken place. A little disruption to one’s sleep schedule was all one needed to survive the pass, they figured.

One of them yawned loudly, disrupting the still quiet of the pass. His companion shushed him. The harsh, sibilant sound echoed along the mountainsides. They boys giggled at that. They began shushing and hissing, bouncing their voices along the mountainsides. They didn’t notice a third voice from behind adding to the cacophony.

They did when they broke out into laughter, hearing a deep, sarcastic laugh tainted with ancient wisdom and mockery. Slowly, they turned around.

The man was pale, his face strange and stained dark-red with something. Standing upright, he was a head taller than the two boys. They had never seen a face so wise and old and twisted, one that had gone above and beyond the dull trappings of humanity. He must have been as old as the great Dromoka herself. The boys laughed nervously.

“Don’t you think you two young boys ought to be with your camp? It’s dark after all, and there have been rumors about this pass for well over a year now.” His voice was dripping with a disdain and mockery that chilled the boys to the bone.

“We, we, uh, thought traveling at night would be safer, on account of all the disappearances happening then.” The words stumbled inelegantly out of the boy’s mouth.

“And besides,” stammered the second, “It’s almost dawn.”

“That it is.” said the man, simply.

He lunged at them, shoving one to the side and grabbing the other by the arms, flinging them apart to give himself access to the boy’s deck. The man opened his mouth to reveal vicious fangs and dove them into the boy’s carotid.

The companion attempted to scream,but no sound came out. He watched his friend be drained completely of blood as he lay in frozen horror.

When the bloodsucker was finished, he dropped the boy’s boy and let it crumble to the ground, then turned his eyes to the other brat.

The boy tried to scramble to his feet, backing away from the monster, but tendrils of black magic curled around him and held him in place. With leisurely -- bored even -- strides, the man approached the boy on the ground. He bent down.

“Now don’t fret, boy, you little death will ensure the continuation of countless lives, both in my home and beyond. Young one, your death will be for the glorious return of Innistrad.”

The vampire grabbed the side of the boy’s neck and tilted it back before diving in, draining the boy of his blood and life.

The goats the boys brought with them had scattered, fleeing their erstwhile masters. The vampire had neither the time nor desire to pursue them; he was ready.

Sorin planeswalked away from Tarkir moments before the sun broke through the pass.

#the wayward archangel #the wayward archangel chapter two #mtg #sorin #innistrad #mtg fanfic #long post #fanfic #blood #gore

[i-sold-my-soul-to-loki-blog]

Chapter 2: The Devil Is My Witness

Hell wasn’t normally a nice place. It was hot, cramped and open flames and lava rivers were everywhere. On the celestial safety scale, it ranked a solid 2 outta 10. That being said the main palace was a stunning and comfortable place. The walls floors and roof was made of either carved obsidian or marble. Colored polished crystals and stones adorned the lights and windows giving it a sacred feeling angels so loved.

The main throne was made from cast silver and ancient demon blades. Sitting in it was Morningstar himself and a little ember demon kit. He was stroking its back and feeding it some kind of meat. She really didn’t want to know what kind.

“Ah, you are here. No need to worry I know it wasn’t you who made the deal to enter heaven. I also know it wasn’t you who stole my brother’s sword. However, I do need your help getting it back.” He took off his sunglasses revealing a pair of ruby red eyes and deep abyssal black wings.

“Now time for proper introductions. I’ve wanted to do this since the first day we met but a fallen angel can’t be too careful. I’m Lucifer Morningstar, welcome to Hell.” His smile was warm and revealed a pair of long almost vampiric fangs. She could almost believe he fathered that race, almost.

“Now I know what you’re thinking. You can’t be the devil you’re too nice and way too handsome. Doesn’t he have goat legs and horns? I assure you I am Satan or Lucifer or the Devil whatever you want to call me I am in fact he.” He stood and gave a dramatic bow. He looked eager as he Awaited their response.

“Actually…” Loki started. “What she is thinking is dear fates why am I surrounded by these crazy drama club goths.” He gave her his best disapproving stare. “I resent that remark by the way. You see this is why I can’t take her places, such a disobedient wolf.” he smiled toward Lucifer as if it was a running joke between the two Gods.

“No.” She interjected. “This is why I can’t have nice things. I meet a lovely semi-normal person who isn’t trying to burn down the town, send me on crazy errands, seduce half the population or trying to start a war and have a decent camaraderie with and he turns out to be an angel. But not just any angel he’s the adorable non-uptight human acting fallen one. Honestly can’t I just meet a nice vampire or maybe a swamp mermaid hell I’ll settle for a dragon at this point.” Her rant lasted longer than she’d have liked but it was getting really annoying her lack of suitable suitors. In true male fashion however they missed the point.

“You think he’s adorable yet I’m just meh.” Loki sounded offended.

“You like having me as a friend?” She could’ve sworn she saw a tear. “I’ve never had friends before, can I please keep you as one.” Damn, he sounded so dang sincere.

“It’s not like you being the Devil changes anything. My best friends are Loki god of Mischief and Hades lord of the dead. Trust me Arch Angel Lucifer will fit right in with this crowd.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder. Yeah her friends were a weird group.

“When did you befriend Hades?” They asked in unison. Loki completely missing the God of Mischief is my best friend part.

“A few years ago during the whole Hammer of Thor incident. I had to retrieve water from the Phlegethon to appease the dragon Gajeel. Struck a deal with Hades so me, him, Hel and Xolotl occasionally get together for tea and trade stories about our respective pantheons. Yes Loki, since you don’t hang with the Norse deities you are considered mine by default.”

The two seemed fascinated by this little tidbit. Hades and Hel don’t talk to anyone yet this little wolf succeeded. Of course, it was no surprise, he was prone to sending her off to do random tasks he couldn’t which required a certain amount of finesse and trust building. Still, it was a bit disconcerting that she had these strong allies he had no clue about.

If she wanted it would be easy to wriggle out of her contract. Especially now that Lucifer was among those friends. He was considered the God of bargains and deals by most of the other Gods. Loki stared at her, silently praying that she wouldn’t choose to leave.

“I know what you are thinking trickster and I have no plans of breaking our little deal. It’s far too much fun being able to roam anywhere in the nine realms without bothering a dimensional sorcerer or sorceress. Besides as troublesome as these jobs of yours are they do past the time between bouts of boredom.” The words were thrown out rather absentmindedly as she studied the group of demons that wandered in.

He could never understand how she handled demokyn so easily. Most of them were either nauseating to look at or to smell, this group was the rare ones that were both. Of course like most celestial beings, if you could call them that, they could take human form. The thing was that unless it was necessary they refused to. He really wished that wasn’t the case right now.

The largest pair of demons were a sickly green color, covered with large bulky scales they had mostly serpentine bodies. They had the chest of a bodybuilder and where their feet should have been were two spiny clusters that seemed to drag the creatures across the floor. They had no hands and instead used their anglerfish like jaws to each hold an arm of their captive. They smelt like rotten desert carrion.

The other three were humanish in looks. Their skin, however, was marbled with shades of red orange and yellow. Their hands and feet were webbed and red fins protruded from their arms, legs and backs. In place of hair were red and orange banded spines that seemed to go well with their bright golden eyes. Like the others they had the jaws of deep sea fish. Their scent however was in a much more charming burnt leather range.

Their captive however seemed like your average human. Tan skin, black hair, brown eyes, two arms, two legs and a bit on the skinny side. He wore a red and orange camo catsuit. He looked a bit worse for the wear but if he had been running around Hell it could’ve been worse. No surprise Skye and Lucifer seemed to know him.

“Is that GREG? Mr. I’m going to kill all the vampires in Romania GREG. Mr. Let me wear your pelt as a trophy GREG.” By the way she said his name he could tell Greg was no a friend.

“Yes.” the Devil responded. “After you caught the guy trying to kill off my precious Nephilim son Asreal I had him brought down here and thrown in the rivers of fury. The five you see before you are lava nymphs. Well except for the guards those are hell born Naga, a gift from my middle eastern partner.”

He seemed so casual about it. Oh yeah don’t mind him I just had the guy drug down here to torture for eternity. It's no big deal really. Just gonna drown in him the fury bled from wronged men. Of course he couldn’t judge, he once turned a human who threatened Nami into a rabbit, gave him immortality and set him loose in a building full of hungry kitsune.

“Okay then.” That’s his lycan and her confused acceptance of the vengeful acts of scorned Gods. “why is he currently in here then?” Straight to the point, good girl.

“You see…” One of the Lava nymphs started.

“An angel came and said they needed his help tracking something or someone down.” The center one continued.

“Since he was cursed by the Dimensional Witch Eternity he can hop between worlds but will only land in the most guarded place in that world.” the third finished.

“The angel thought that if the sword was missing it’d be heavily guarded and they would send him in to scout the place. If he got killed the process he’d just return to us and report.” They said in unison. The naga nodded in agreement causing their teeth to dig into Greg’s arms. Blood started to run onto the marble floor in a steady stream. Hungry calls could be heard throughout the palace.

“What did the Angel look like?” Lucifer asked as he walked towards the human. His red eyes had turned a sickly yellow shade. Black scales replaced the feathers on his wings and a long dragon like tail flashed into view. The not so subtle reminder that when an angel falls it becomes a Demon King.

“It was tall but looked almost completely human. The eyes were like mercury and golden wings were blinding though they had black stripes. It chose a dark-skinned suit, like maybe a Jamaican but was built like a pro boxer. Unlike most it didn’t seem bothered by the air down here, in fact, it was smiling.” The nymphs shuddered.

“It seems my dear brother Michael paid us a visit. It is his sword after all. Still what he says goes even if this traitorous bastard doesn’t deserve to be let go.” He pulled the human from the Nagas jaws causing a fresh spray of blood to coat the walls and floor.

The sound he made couldn’t have been human but it came from one. His cries of pain only caused the distant howls of hunger to grow louder and move closer. Slithering and tapping could be heard on the windows outside. Something resembling a gulper eel with wings flashed into view outside.

Loki took a few steps closer to Skye for comfort. She moved them both a good two feet further from Greg. As did his escort party. A large growl rattled the building and several of the demons retreated from view outside.

“Loki, speaking one Celestial being to another, can I trust you to return this filth to me once the blade is found.” his voice was a low whisper that bounced of the walls and chilled him to his bones.

“Considering I don’t want him, to begin with, I’ll happily return him to you the moment he is no longer of use.” He forced himself to swallow as the urge to throw up became stronger.

He turned toward his lycan for comfort but found only seething hatred in her eyes. Usually, they were a light blue, the color of the fjords, sometimes like glaciers in the winter. Right now, however, they were a deep navy, like waves during a storm. She was fighting down the inner demon that made lycans, lycans. No doubt it had something to do with Lucifer’s current mood, the calls of the demokyn outside and Greg’s pleased smirk.

“Skye luna Starshadow do you swear that no matter what this soul will be returned to where it belongs?” He was full on Demon King now, Greg little more then a chew toy in the grasp of a Great White. Charcoal black skin was covered in red Enochian script in complex patterns. Black bat like wings with red stripes stretched behind him. A long black reptilian tail wrapped around the throne, blood red barbs carving grooves in the floor. Large elk like antlers graced his head, each branch ending in a barbed point.

“The devils as my witness I will drag him back here myself.” Her usual calm voice was little more than a snarl.

“Good now begone. We’ll catch up after.” with a puff of black sooty smoke they found themselves in the heart of Helheim.

#SeriouslyGreg Ofallthepeople onthefrickinplanet Greg dearjesuswhy

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BOMBADIL GOES BOATING

The old year was turning brown; the West Wind was calling; Tom caught a beechen leaf in the Forest falling. 'I've caught a happy day blown me by the breezes! Why wait till morrow-year? I'll take it when me pleases. This day I'll mend my boat and journey as it chances west down the withy-stream, following my fancies!' Little Bird sat on twig. 'Whillo, Tom! I heed you. I've a guess, I've a guess where your fancies lead you. Shall I go, shall I go, bring him word to meet you?' 'No names, you tell-tale, or I'll skin and eat you, babbling in every ear things that don't concern you! If you tell Willow-man where I've gone, I'll burn you, roast you on a willow-spit. That'll end your prying!' Willow-wren cocked her tail, piped as she went flying: 'Catch me first, catch me first! No names are needed. I'll perch on his hither ear: the message will be heeded. "Down by Mithe", I'll say, "just as sun is sinking" Hurry up, hurry up! That's the time for drinking!' Tom laughed to himself: 'Maybe then I'll go there. I might go by other ways, but today I'll row there.' He shaved oars, patched his boat; from hidden creek he hauled her through reed and sallow-brake, under leaning alder, then down the river went, singing: 'Silly-sallow, Flow withy-willow-stream over deep and shallow!' 'Whee! Tom Bombadil! Whither be you going, bobbing in a cockle-boat, down the river rowing?' 'Maybe to Brandywine along the Withywindle; maybe friends of mine fire for me will kindle down by the Hays-end. Little folk I know there, kind at the day's end. Now and then I go there'. 'Take word to my kin, bring me back their tidings! Tell me of diving pools and the fishes' hidings!' 'Nay then,' said Bombadil, 'I am only rowing just to smell the water like, not on errands going'. 'Tee hee! Cocky Tom! Mind your tub don't founder! Look out for willow-snags! I'd laugh to see you flounder'. 'Talk less, Fisher Blue! Keep your kindly wishes! Fly off and preen yourself with the bones of fishes! Gay lord on your bough, at home a dirty varlet living in a sloven house, though your breast be scarlet. I've heard of fisher-birds beak in air a-dangling to show how the wind is set: that's an end of angling!' The King's fisher shut his beak, winked his eye, as singing Tom passed under bough. Flash! then he went winging; dropped down jewel-blue a feather, and Tom caught it gleaming in a sun-ray: a pretty gift he thought it. He stuck it in his tall hat, the old feather casting: 'Blue now for Tom', he said, "a merry hue and lasting!' Rings swirled round his boat, he saw the bubbles quiver. Tom slapped his oar, smack! at a shadow in the river. 'Hoosh! Tom Bombadil! 'Tis long since last I met you. Turned water-boatman, eh? What if I upset you?' 'What? Why, Whisker-lad, I'd ride you down the river. My fingers on your back would set your hide a-shiver.' 'Pish, Tom Bombadil! I'll go and tell my mother; "Call all our kin to come, father, sister, brother! Tom's gone mad as a coot with wooden legs: he's paddling down Withywindle stream, an old tub a-straddling!"' 'I'll give your otter-fell to Barrow-wights. They'll taw you! Then smother you in gold-rings! Your mother if she saw you, she'd never know her son, unless 'twas by a whisker. Nay, don't tease old Tom, until you be far brisker!' 'Whoosh! said otter-lad, river-water spraying over Tom's hat and all; set the boat a-swaying, dived down under it, and by the bank lay peering, till Tom's merry song faded out of hearing. Old Swan of Elvet-isle sailed past him proudly, gave Tom a black look, snorted at him loudly. Tom laughed: 'You old cob, do you miss your feather? Give me a new one then! The old was worn by weather. Could you speak a fair word, I would love you dearer: long neck and dumb throat, but still a haughty sneerer! If one day the King returns, in upping he may take you, brand your yellow bill, and less lordly make you!' Old Swan huffed his wings, hissed, and paddled faster; in his wake bobbing on Tom went rowing after. Tom came to Withy-weir. Down the river rushing foamed into Windle-reach, a-bubbling and a-splashing; bore Tom over stone spinning like a windfall, bobbing like a bottle-cork, to the hythe at Grindwall. Hoy! Here's Woodman Tom with his bill��-beard on!' laughed all the little folk of Hays-end and Breredon. 'Ware, Tom' We'll shoot you dead with our bows and arrows' We don't let Forest-folk nor bogies from the Barrows cross over Brandywine by cockle-boat nor ferry'. 'Fie, little fatbellies! Don't ye make so merry! I've seen hobbit-folk digging holes to hide 'em, frightened if a horny goat or a badger eyed 'em, afeared of the moony-beams, their own shadows shunning. I'll call the orks on you: that'll send you running!' 'You may call, Woodman Tom. And you can talk your beard off. Three arrows in your hat! You we're not afeared of! Where would you go to now? If for beer you're making, the barrels aint deep enough in Breredon for your slaking!' 'Away over Brandywine by Shirebourn I'd be going, but too swift for cockle-boat (he river now is flowing. I'd bless little folk that took me in their wherry, wish them evenings fair and many mornings merry'. Red flowed the Brandywine: with flame the river kindled. as sun sank beyond the Shire, and then to grey it dwindled. Mithe Steps empty stood. None was there to greet him. Silent the Causeway lay. Said Tom: 'A merry meeting!' Tom slumped along the road, as the light was failing. Rushey lamps gleamed ahead. He heard a voice him hailing. 'Whoa there!' Ponies stopped, wheels halted sliding. Tom went plodding past. never looked beside him. 'Ho there! beggarman tramping in the Marish! What's your business here? Hat all stuck with arrows! Someone's warned you off, caught you at your sneaking? Come here! Tell me now what it is you're seeking! Shire-ale. I'll be bound, though you've not a penny. I'll bid them lock their doors, and then you won't get any'' 'Well, well. Muddy-feet! From one that's late for meeting away back by the Mithe that's a surly greeting! You old farmer fat that cannot walk for wheezing, cart-drawn like a sack, ought to be more pleasing. Penny-wise tub-on-legs! A beggar can't be chooser, or else I'd bid you go, and you would be the loser. Come, Maggot! Help me up! A tankard now you owe me. Even in cockshut light an old friend should know me!' Laughing they drove away, in Rushey never halting, though the inn open stood and they could smell the mailing. They turned down Maggot's Lane, rattling and bumping, Tom in the farmer's cart dancing round and jumping. Stars shone on Bamfurlong, and Maggot's house was lighted; fire in the kitchen burned to welcome the benighted. Maggot's sons bowed at door, his daughters did their curtsy, his wife brought tankards out for those that might be thirsty. Songs they had and merry tales the supping and the dancing; Goodman Maggot there for all his belt was prancing, Tom did a hornpipe when he was not quaffing, daughters did the Springle-ring, goodwife did the laughing. When others went to bed in hay, fern, or feather, close in the inglenook they laid their heads together, old Tom and Muddy-feet, swapping all the tidings from Barrow-downs to Tower Hills: of walkings and of ridings; of wheat-ear and barley-corn, of sowing and of reaping; queer tales from Bree, and talk at smithy, mill, and cheaping; rumours in whispering trees, south-wind in the larches, tall Watchers by the Ford, Shadows on the marches. Old Maggot slept at last in chair beside the embers. Ere dawn Tom was gone: as dreams one half remembers, some merry, some sad, and some of hidden warning. None heard the door unlocked; a shower of rain at morning his footprints washed away, at Mithe he left no traces, at Hays-end they heard no song nor sound of heavy paces. Three days his boat lay by the hythe at Grindwall, and then one mom was gone back up Withywindle. Otter-folk, hobbits said, came by night and loosed her, dragged her over weir, and up stream they pushed her. Out from Elvet-isle Old Swan came sailing, in beak took her painter up in the water trailing, drew her proudly on; otters swam beside her round old Willow-man's crooked roots to guide her; the King's fisher perched on bow, on thwart the wren was singing, merrily the cockle-boat homeward they were bringing. To Tom's creek they came at last. Otter-lad said: 'Whish now! What's a coot without his legs, or a unless fish now?' O! silly-sallow-willow-stream! The oars they'd left behind them! Long they lay at Grindwall hythe for Tom to come and find them.

#TomBombadil

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Tyrion

They had taken shelter beneath a copse of aspens just off the high road. Tyrion was gathering deadwood while their horses took water from a mountain stream. He stooped to pick up a splintered branch and examined it critically. "Will this do? I am not practiced at starting fires. Morrec did that for me." "A fire?" Bronn said, spitting. "Are you so hungry to die, dwarf? Or have you taken leave of your senses? A fire will bring the clansmen down on us from miles around. I mean to survive this journey, Lannister." "And how do you hope to do that?" Tyrion asked. He tucked the branch under his arm and poked around through the sparse undergrowth, looking for more. His back ached from the effort of bending; they had been riding since daybreak, when a stone-faced Ser Lyn Corbray had ushered them through the Bloody Gate and commanded them never to return. "We have no chance of fighting our way back," Bronn said, "but two can cover more ground than ten, and attract less notice. The fewer days we spend in these mountains, the more like we are to reach the riverlands. Ride hard and fast, I say. Travel by night and hole up by day, avoid the road where we can, make no noise and light no fires." Tyrion Lannister sighed. "A splendid plan, Bronn. Try it, as you like . . . and forgive me if I do not linger to bury you." "You think to outlive me, dwarf?" The sellsword grinned. He had a dark gap in his smile where the edge of Ser Vardis Egen's shield had cracked a tooth in half. Tyrion shrugged. "Riding hard and fast by night is a sure way to tumble down a mountain and crack your skull. I prefer to make my crossing slow and easy. I know you love the taste of horse, Bronn, but if our mounts die under us this time, we'll be trying to saddle shadowcats . . . and if truth be told, I think the clans will find us no matter what we do. Their eyes are all around us." He swept a gloved hand over the high, wind-carved crags that surrounded them. Bronn grimaced. "Then we're dead men, Lannister." "If so, I prefer to die comfortable," Tyrion replied. "We need a fire. The nights are cold up here, and hot food will warm our bellies and lift our spirits. Do you suppose there's any game to be had? Lady Lysa has kindly provided us with a veritable feast of salt beef, hard cheese, and stale bread, but I would hate to break a tooth so far from the nearest maester." "I can find meat." Beneath a fall of black hair, Bronn's dark eyes regarded Tyrion suspiciously. "I should leave you here with your fool's fire. If I took your horse, I'd have twice the chance to make it through. What would you do then, dwarf?" "Die, most like." Tyrion stooped to get another stick. "You don't think I'd do it?" "You'd do it in an instant, if it meant your life. You were quick enough to silence your friend Chiggen when he caught that arrow in his belly." Bronn had yanked back the man's head by the hair and driven the point of his dirk in under the ear, and afterward told Catelyn Stark that the other sellsword had died of his wound. "He was good as dead," Bronn said, "and his moaning was bringing them down on us. Chiggen would have done the same for me . . . and he was no friend, only a man I rode with. Make no mistake, dwarf. I fought for you, but I do not love you." "It was your blade I needed," Tyrion said, "not your love." He dumped his armful of wood on the ground. Bronn grinned. "You're bold as any sellsword, I'll give you that. How did you know I'd take your part?" "Know?" Tyrion squatted awkwardly on his stunted legs to build the fire. "I tossed the dice. Back at the inn, you and Chiggen helped take me captive. Why? The others saw it as their duty, for the honor of the lords they served, but not you two. You had no lord, no duty, and precious little honor, so why trouble to involve yourselves?" He took out his knife and whittled some thin strips of bark off one of the sticks he'd gathered, to serve as kindling. "Well, why do sellswords do anything? For gold. You were thinking Lady Catelyn would reward you for your help, perhaps even take you into her service. Here, that should do, I hope. Do you have a flint?" Bronn slid two fingers into the pouch at his belt and tossed down a flint. Tyrion caught it in the air. "My thanks," he said. "The thing is, you did not know the Starks. Lord Eddard is a proud, honorable, and honest man, and his lady wife is worse. Oh, no doubt she would have found a coin or two for you when this was all over, and pressed it in your hand with a polite word and a look of distaste, but that's the most you could have hoped for. The Starks look for courage and loyalty and honor in the men they choose to serve them, and if truth be told, you and Chiggen were lowborn scum." Tyrion struck the flint against his dagger, trying for a spark. Nothing. Bronn snorted. "You have a bold tongue, little man. One day someone is like to cut it out and make you eat it." "Everyone tells me that." Tyrion glanced up at the sellsword. "Did I offend you? My pardons . . . but you are scum, Bronn, make no mistake. Duty, honor, friendship, what's that to you? No, don't trouble yourself, we both know the answer. Still, you're not stupid. Once we reached the Vale, Lady Stark had no more need of you . . . but I did, and the one thing the Lannisters have never lacked for is gold. When the moment came to toss the dice, I was counting on your being smart enough to know where your best interest lay. Happily for me, you did." He slammed stone and steel together again, fruitlessly. "Here," said Bronn, squatting, "I'll do it." He took the knife and flint from Tyrion's hands and struck sparks on his first try. A curl of bark began to smolder. "Well done," Tyrion said. "Scum you may be, but you're undeniably useful, and with a sword in your hand you're almost as good as my brother Jaime. What do you want, Bronn? Gold? Land? Women? Keep me alive, and you'll have it." Bronn blew gently on the fire, and the flames leapt up higher. "And if you die?" "Why then, I'll have one mourner whose grief is sincere," Tyrion said, grinning. "The gold ends when I do." The fire was blazing up nicely. Bronn stood, tucked the flint back into his pouch, and tossed Tyrion his dagger. "Fair enough," he said. "My sword's yours, then . . . but don't go looking for me to bend the knee and m'lord you every time you take a shit. I'm no man's toady." "Nor any man's friend," Tyrion said. "I've no doubt you'd betray me as quick as you did Lady Stark, if you saw a profit in it. If the day ever comes when you're tempted to sell me out, remember this, Bronn—I'll match their price, whatever it is. I like living. And now, do you think you could do something about finding us some supper?" "Take care of the horses," Bronn said, unsheathing the long dirk he wore at his hip. He strode into the trees. An hour later the horses had been rubbed down and fed, the fire was crackling away merrily, and a haunch of a young goat was turning above the flames, spitting and hissing. "All we lack now is some good wine to wash down our kid," Tyrion said. "That, a woman, and another dozen swords," Bronn said. He sat cross-legged beside the fire, honing the edge of his longsword with an oilstone. There was something strangely reassuring about the rasping sound it made when he drew it down the steel. "It will be full dark soon," the sellsword pointed out. "I'll take first watch . . . for all the good it will do us. It might be kinder to let them kill us in our sleep." "Oh, I imagine they'll be here long before it comes to sleep." The smell of the roasting meat made Tyrion's mouth water. Bronn watched him across the fire. "You have a plan," he said flatly, with a scrape of steel on stone. "A hope, call it," Tyrion said. "Another toss of the dice." "With our lives as the stake?" Tyrion shrugged. "What choice do we have?" He leaned over the fire and sawed a thin slice of meat from the kid. "Ahhhh," he sighed happily as he chewed. Grease ran down his chin. "A bit tougher than I'd like, and in want of spicing, but I'll not complain too loudly. If I were back at the Eyrie, I'd be dancing on a precipice in hopes of a boiled bean." "And yet you gave the turnkey a purse of gold," Bronn said. "A Lannister always pays his debts." Even Mord had scarcely believed it when Tyrion tossed him the leather purse. The gaoler's eyes had gone big as boiled eggs as he yanked open the drawstring and beheld the glint of gold. "I kept the silver," Tyrion had told him with a crooked smile, "but you were promised the gold, and there it is." It was more than a man like Mord could hope to earn in a lifetime of abusing prisoners. "And remember what I said, this is only a taste. If you ever grow tired of Lady Arryn's service, present yourself at Casterly Rock, and I'll pay you the rest of what I owe you." With golden dragons spilling out of both hands, Mord had fallen to his knees and promised that he would do just that. Bronn yanked out his dirk and pulled the meat from the fire. He began to carve thick chunks of charred meat off the bone as Tyrion hollowed out two heels of stale bread to serve as trenchers. "If we do reach the river, what will you do then?" the sellsword asked as he cut. "Oh, a whore and a featherbed and a flagon of wine, for a start." Tyrion held out his trencher, and Bronn filled it with meat. "And then to Casterly Rock or King's Landing, I think. I have some questions that want answering, concerning a certain dagger." The sellsword chewed and swallowed. "So you were telling it true? It was not your knife?" Tyrion smiled thinly. "Do I look a liar to you?" By the time their bellies were full, the stars had come out and a halfmoon was rising over the mountains. Tyrion spread his shadowskin cloak on the ground and stretched out with his saddle for a pillow. "Our friends are taking their sweet time." "If I were them, I'd fear a trap," Bronn said. "Why else would we be so open, if not to lure them in?" Tyrion chuckled. "Then we ought to sing and send them fleeing in terror." He began to whistle a tune. "You're mad, dwarf," Bronn said as he cleaned the grease out from under his nails with his dirk. "Where's your love of music, Bronn?" "If it was music you wanted, you should have gotten the singer to champion you." Tyrion grinned. "That would have been amusing. I can just see him fending off Ser Vardis with his woodharp." He resumed his whistling. "Do you know this song?" he asked. "You hear it here and there, in inns and whorehouses." "Myrish. ‘The Seasons of My Love.' Sweet and sad, if you understand the words. The first girl I ever bedded used to sing it, and I've never been able to put it out of my head." Tyrion gazed up at the sky. It was a clear cold night and the stars shone down upon the mountains as bright and merciless as truth. "I met her on a night like this," he heard himself saying. "Jaime and I were riding back from Lannisport when we heard a scream, and she came running out into the road with two men dogging her heels, shouting threats. My brother unsheathed his sword and went after them, while I dismounted to protect the girl. She was scarcely a year older than I was, dark-haired, slender, with a face that would break your heart. It certainly broke mine. Lowborn, half-starved, unwashed . . . yet lovely. They'd torn the rags she was wearing half off her back, so I wrapped her in my cloak while Jaime chased the men into the woods. By the time he came trotting back, I'd gotten a name out of her, and a story. She was a crofter's child, orphaned when her father died of fever, on her way to . . . well, nowhere, really. "Jaime was all in a lather to hunt down the men. It was not often outlaws dared prey on travelers so near to Casterly Rock, and he took it as an insult. The girl was too frightened to send off by herself, though, so I offered to take her to the closest inn and feed her while my brother rode back to the Rock for help. "She was hungrier than I would have believed. We finished two whole chickens and part of a third, and drank a flagon of wine, talking. I was only thirteen, and the wine went to my head, I fear. The next thing I knew, I was sharing her bed. If she was shy, I was shyer. I'll never know where I found the courage. When I broke her maidenhead, she wept, but afterward she kissed me and sang her little song, and by morning I was in love." "You?" Bronn's voice was amused. "Absurd, isn't it?" Tyrion began to whistle the song again. "I married her," he finally admitted. "A Lannister of Casterly Rock wed to a crofter's daughter," Bronn said. "How did you manage that?" "Oh, you'd be astonished at what a boy can make of a few lies, fifty pieces of silver, and a drunken septon. I dared not bring my bride home to Casterly Rock, so I set her up in a cottage of her own, and for a fortnight we played at being man and wife. And then the septon sobered and confessed all to my lord father." Tyrion was surprised at how desolate it made him feel to say it, even after all these years. Perhaps he was just tired. "That was the end of my marriage." He sat up and stared at the dying fire, blinking at the light. "He sent the girl away?" "He did better than that," Tyrion said. "First he made my brother tell me the truth. The girl was a whore, you see. Jaime arranged the whole affair, the road, the outlaws, all of it. He thought it was time I had a woman. He paid double for a maiden, knowing it would be my first time. "After Jaime had made his confession, to drive home the lesson, Lord Tywin brought my wife in and gave her to his guards. They paid her fair enough. A silver for each man, how many whores command that high a price? He sat me down in the corner of the barracks and bade me watch, and at the end she had so many silvers the coins were slipping through her fingers and rolling on the floor, she . . . " The smoke was stinging his eyes. Tyrion cleared his throat and turned away from the fire, to gaze out into darkness. "Lord Tywin had me go last," he said in a quiet voice. "And he gave me a gold coin to pay her, because I was a Lannister, and worth more." After a time he heard the noise again, the rasp of steel on stone as Bronn sharpened his sword. "Thirteen or thirty or three, I would have killed the man who did that to me." Tyrion swung around to face him. "You may get that chance one day. Remember what I told you. A Lannister always pays his debts." He yawned. "I think I will try and sleep. Wake me if we're about to die." He rolled himself up in the shadowskin and shut his eyes. The ground was stony and cold, but after a time Tyrion Lannister did sleep. He dreamt of the sky cell. This time he was the gaoler, not the prisoner, big, with a strap in his hand, and he was hitting his father, driving him back, toward the abyss . . . "Tyrion." Bronn's warning was low and urgent. Tyrion was awake in the blink of an eye. The fire had burned down to embers, and the shadows were creeping in all around them. Bronn had raised himself to one knee, his sword in one hand and his dirk in the other. Tyrion held up a hand: stay still, it said. "Come share our fire, the night is cold," he called out to the creeping shadows. "I fear we've no wine to offer you, but you're welcome to some of our goat." All movement stopped. Tyrion saw the glint of moonlight on metal. "Our mountain," a voice called out from the trees, deep and hard and unfriendly. "Our goat." "Your goat," Tyrion agreed. "Who are you?" "When you meet your gods," a different voice replied, "say it was Gunthor son of Gurn of the Stone Crows who sent you to them." A branch cracked underfoot as he stepped into the light; a thin man in a horned helmet, armed with a long knife. "And Shagga son of Dolf." That was the first voice, deep and deadly. A boulder shifted to their left, and stood, and became a man. Massive and slow and strong he seemed, dressed all in skins, with a club in his right hand and an axe in his left. He smashed them together as he lumbered closer. Other voices called other names, Conn and Torrek and Jaggot and more that Tyrion forgot the instant he heard them; ten at least. A few had swords and knives; others brandished pitchforks and scythes and wooden spears. He waited until they were done shouting out their names before he gave them answer. "I am Tyrion son of Tywin, of the Clan Lannister, the Lions of the Rock. We will gladly pay you for the goat we ate." "What do you have to give us, Tyrion son of Tywin?" asked the one who named himself Gunthor, who seemed to be their chief. "There is silver in my purse," Tyrion told them. "This hauberk I wear is large for me, but it should fit Conn nicely, and the battle-axe I carry would suit Shagga's mighty hand far better than that wood-axe he holds." "The halfman would pay us with our own coin," said Conn. "Conn speaks truly," Gunthor said. "Your silver is ours. Your horses are ours. Your hauberk and your battle-axe and the knife at your belt, those are ours too. You have nothing to give us but your lives. How would you like to die, Tyrion son of Tywin?" "In my own bed, with a belly full of wine and a maiden's mouth around my cock, at the age of eighty," he replied. The huge one, Shagga, laughed first and loudest. The others seemed less amused. "Conn, take their horses," Gunthor commanded. "Kill the other and seize the halfinan. He can milk the goats and make the mothers laugh." Bronn sprang to his feet. "Who dies first?" "No!" Tyrion said sharply. "Gunthor son of Gurn, hear me. My House is rich and powerful. If the Stone Crows will see us safely through these mountains, my lord father will shower you with gold." "The gold of a lowland lord is as worthless as a halfman's promises," Gunthor said. "Half a man I may be," Tyrion said, "yet I have the courage to face my enemies. What do the Stone Crows do, but hide behind rocks and shiver with fear as the knights of the Vale ride by?" Shagga gave a roar of anger and clashed club against axe. Jaggot poked at Tyrion's face with the fire-hardened point of a long wooden spear. He did his best not to flinch. "Are these the best weapons you could steal?" he said. "Good enough for killing sheep, perhaps . . . if the sheep do not fight back. My father's smiths shit better steel." "Little boyman," Shagga roared, "will you mock my axe after I chop off your manhood and feed it to the goats?" But Gunthor raised a hand. "No. I would hear his words. The mothers go hungry, and steel fills more mouths than gold. What would you give us for your lives, Tyrion son of Tywin? Swords? Lances? Mail?" "All that, and more, Gunthor son of Gurn," Tyrion Lannister replied, smiling. "I will give you the Vale of Arryn."

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