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separatist-apologist · 9 months

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Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3

Marry me, Elain.

Lucien’s words hung between them, thicker with each passing second she said nothing at all. Her fingers curled into fists, the engagement ring tucked against one finger. Lucien blinked at her, true fear sliding over his expression.

“Yes,” she said, heart thudding. “Of course, Lucien, I—”

He crushed his mouth to hers before she could utter another word. That was preferable to having to say actual words that were likely to destroy what still felt very fragile between them. It wasn’t lost on Elain that until very recently, she and Lucien had not been friends. In fact, they’d only just begun building a shaky sort of truce a mere day before the bond snapped.

And now everything was happening impossibly fast, backdropped by war. Lucien had gone from loathing her very existence to needing her like the air he breathed and if Elain was honest, she wondered if he’d still want her like he did without the bond.

He’d grown up with parents who loved each other more than life itself, and their mating bond was part of that. Of course he’d romanticize it. Of course Lucien would cherish it. Of course he’d want her above everything else and Elain…well, Elain wanted him too.

But maybe she ought to go to Spring without him. Now that she was thinking about it, and about her mother…Lucien wouldn’t understand. He’d be all smiles, the courtly prince of Day who was beloved by everyone. And her mother was difficult. She wouldn’t be impressed by his good looks, his nice manners, or whatever feelings he had for her.

In fact, Elain suspected her mother would respect him less for all those things. She’d think he should have chosen duty over the mating bond and married someone who furthered his own court rather than someone he was in love with. She needed to think it over—maybe talk to him about what his presence in Spring might mean for them both. Try and get him to understand.

“No,” Elain gasped when his fingers found the laces of her dress. “Lucien I can’t.”

“You can’t?” he breathed, dragging his mouth down her neck.

“Aren’t you a little sore?” she asked him, thinking of the persistent ache between her legs. She was struggling to adjust given the sheer size of him, and the fact that the bond pulled on her need so she couldn’t take a break. Tonight, though, she thought if she could get uninterrupted sleep, she’d feel clearer when she woke. Less tangled up in knots.

“No.”

“I am,” she said and all at once Lucien had released her. Running a hand through his hair, he apologized.

“Elain, I’m so sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Get in bed with me and tell me something no one else knows about you, Lucien Spell-Cleaver.”

Lucien’s smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Genuine, too. Bright as the sun and warm enough to bask in, Lucien very quickly changed into nothing before turning off the fae lights and climbing into bed with her. For a moment, she thought he’d abandon her plan to just talk given he was half erect.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, angling his hips away from her body. “The mating bond…I can be civilized.”

“I know you can,” Elain replied, pressing a kiss against his palm. Lucien drew her against his chest, toying with strands of her hair.

“Something about me no one knows?” he murmured, lips against her scalp. Lucien was so, so bad at being platonic. Elain, too, given her body was responding to his nearness. Elain’s plan to lie to him suddenly felt weighty—he was trying, and she was about to go around him. “I’m afraid of bees.”

Elain turned to look at him. “Bees?”

“Yeah. Mother has a garden of them—and sometimes when you’re out there, I can see them forming a halo around your head and I just watch from afar.”

“The worst they could do is sting you, Lucien.”

He chuckled. “Yes. And I’d prefer to avoid that if I can.”

“I would never have guessed a future High Lord was afraid of a couple harmless bees.”

“Hardly harmless,” Lucien grumbled.

“Tell me something that matters,” Elain murmured, twisting again so she was on her stomach, chin on his chest. Lucien brushed a piece of hair from her face.

“You know that Eris was always after me, trying to figure out if I had the High Lord's magic?” Lucien began, his eyes only on her mouth. It made her giggle, even as Elain nodded her head.

“Yes. I remember quite well how those arguments went.”

Lucien sighed. “Imagine, if I’d never pushed you in the Cauldron, I could have begun courting you the moment you stopped putting ribbons in your hair.”

“What are you talking about? I still use ribbons—”

“You know what I mean,” Lucien said, fingers finding her ribs. Elain exploded with laughter, writhing away from him in an attempt to catch her breath. Lucien didn’t let her get far before pulling her back, his mouth finding hers. It was tempting to melt into him, but Elain wasn’t done with their conversation, even if she knew her attempt to have one quiet night was dangerously close to failure.

“Tell me,” she breathed, raking her fingers through his long, beautiful hair.

Lucien panted, chest rising and falling from the effort it clearly took to keep himself contained. Elain wondered if that sight would ever cease to thrill her. Maybe one day, when the mating bond had settled, Elain would simply laugh the whole thing off.

Maybe not, though.

“I think he wanted to know how much of mothers magic I’d inherited. If I was a threat to him,” Lucien said, flat on his back. He raised a palm and there, as quickly as it took her to draw breath, was warm, licking flame.

“Lucien,” she breathed, mesmerized by the shimmering heat, the sheer Autumn-ness of the magic. He curled his fingers into his hand, leaving a trail of smoke in his wake.

“If Beron ever thought she’d given me anything, I think he would have had us both killed. Father knows, and I’m sure he told mother, but no one else. It’s always been a secret.”

“I won’t tell,” Elain promised.

A smile spread over his face. “I know you won’t. I trust you with my life.”

Words spoken so casually, with an easiness that made Elain’s whole body go loose. “You barely know me.”

“I feel like I’ve known you centuries,” Lucien said earnestly. “And it used to infuriate me. Why can’t I get you out of my head, my blood, my mind?”

“Because we’re mates—”

“Because I recognized you on sight,” he breathed, turning to his side so they were nose to nose. His lips brushed her own. “And I’m so incredibly stupid, thinking I could outrun myself. I wanted you long before the mating bond ever snapped between us and my only regret is not giving in sooner. I know what you’re thinking, Elain…and you’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?” she asked, sliding her hand over his neck. Lucien shuddered.

“Just this one time, you’re wrong. You think I want you because of the bond, but I wanted you before it. Elain, I wanted you so badly it was all I thought about.”

“Because—”

“Because it’s you,” he interrupted softly, kissing her as if that could somehow make her see the truth of things. “Do you think my father only wants my mother because of their shared bond?”

“No,” she admitted.

“If you were awful for me—if I still hated you when it snapped—maybe I’d still want you physically. I’m sure I would. But not like this. Not in my bones, my very soul. And I’d marry you without it. I’d still be in this bed without it.”

“Who knew the Day Court prince was such a romantic,” she teased, blinking away the urge to sob ugly tears into his chest.

“Only you,” Lucien replied with that heart stopping grin. “And if you spread the rumor around, I will viciously deny it.”

“It’s too late. I tell the ladies every morning at breakfast until they’re weeping into their juice.”

“I’m going to kiss you, now,” Lucien informed her, reaching for her face. “And I won’t be held responsible for whatever happens next.”

Elain was still smiling when he made good on his promise, the languid kiss setting her ablaze. So much for a good night's sleep, she told herself. He knew what he was doing with his mouth, tongue sliding into her mouth for a taste. Lucien moaned softly, fingers curling in her hair to hold her still. His other hand found her hip, pulling her closer before laying her flat, his thigh pressed between her legs. It was instinct to grind up into him, dress ruching up so he could see she wasn’t wearing anything beneath.

He moaned again, louder this time.

Something was crowding the edge of her vision, pressing against the back of her eyes. Elain gasped, pulling away without telling Lucien what was coming on. He didn’t understand, licking the column of her throat as his fingers became frantic, tugging at the laces of her gown so she, too, would be naked.

“Lucien—” Elain tried to warn him.

But the vision washed over her and Elain lost herself for a moment.

“Look at me, look at me,” Killain whispered, reaching for Elain’s face. Holding it with a gentleness that could have broken her heart, he added, “Kiss me right now.”

“Killian, I—” Elain was crying. Crying so hard she couldn’t breathe, her heart breaking in her chest. It was a tangible thing, cracking her ribs and bending her spine until Elain had practically melted to the floor.

“Right now,” he ordered, though only desperation tinged his words. Elain looked up into pine green eyes and brought her face nearer until his mouth was mashed against her own. It wasn’t a true kiss—she wasn’t moving, though her eyes closed of their own accord. Even as her body rebelled, her mind obeyed.

Behind her, a voice she didn’t recognize, disembodied in the blackness around her, asked, “What is this?”

“Elain Archeron has agreed to be my wife,” Killian said, pressing his forehead to her own. No one could see her red rimmed eyes, and her heaving shoulders might have been joy. Killian smiled, though there was no happiness to be found standing so close.

“How very fortunate for Spring.”

Elain gasped, shoving at Lucien so hard he tumbled to his back. Scrambling up the headboard, Elain tried to get her bearings. Elain Archeron has agreed to be my wife. My wife. My wife.

“What’s wrong?” Lucien asked, eyes wild, fingers fisted in the blankets. He was crouched, his cock jutting from between his legs. Elain blinked away the urge to scream. She couldn’t tell Lucien what she’d seen.

She needed to simply change it. The future wasn’t written in stone—it was merely a collection of possibilities that could come to pass. She could fix it. Whatever her and Lucien had done wrong to bring that about, Elain could set it right again.

“Lucien,” she said, watching the muscles in his shoulders and back bunch and shift as he crawled up the bed toward her. “Let’s get married right now.”

He frowned. “Now? You don’t want to wait?”

“No,” she breathed, taking his face in her hands. That pain in her chest, her breaking heart—had that been a broken bond? What had happened? How had things gone so terribly wrong? “No, I want to right now. Right now.”

Lucien’s eyes searched her own for a long second. “Get dressed. I’ll have someone wake a priestess.”

And that was that.

Elain scrambled out of bed while Lucien tucked away his erection and began barking orders at servants in the hall.

She would fix whatever went wrong.

Everything was going to be fine.

LUCIEN:

When Lucien imagined his wedding, he’d assumed it would be under a burning Day Court sun. Surrounded by his family, his friends, his people seemed like a given. He’d certainly never imagined walking through the city in the dead of night, clutching his mates hand as he took her to a temple. Part of him wondered if Elain wasn’t pregnant and panicking.

He didn’t dare ask her what had made her want to do things now. In truth, Lucien was relieved. Marriage was far less binding than a mating bond, but still not easily dissolved. There was no way he’d lose her, not when she inked her name on the marriage contract and spoke the words before the Mother, an ordained priestess, and the Prince of Day Court.

Lucien took a breath to steal his nerves, leading her up the marble stairs. Elain didn’t seem nervous at all—in fact, Elain seemed calmer than he’d ever seen her. Certain, which settled Lucien’s fear that something had happened.

And so what if she was pregnant? Sure, he was young and not quite ready to be a father. If it was her, Lucien would raise any number of offspring gladly. He’d do whatever it took, so long as she kept that ring on her finger and announced to Prythian and beyond that he was her husband, her mate—the only person she’d ever loved.

“Ready?” she asked, turning those pretty brown eyes fully on him.

“Born ready,” Lucien lied. He was pretty sure he’d come late, squalling angrily against the bright sun. His father told his birth story that way, at any rate. Grinning, pleased to have been given a son. Lucien wished he was there, offering up advice Lucien swore he didn’t want or need. Had his father, the High Lord, been terrified too?

It wasn’t that he thought it was wrong—nothing had ever felt more right in his life. This was between them. There was no spectacle, just two people in love, and Lucien could appreciate taking this for themselves. Still, he wanted to know how his father had felt when his mother had agreed to marry him. When everything seemed to finally be working out, locking into place. Happiness felt achievable.

And even when the dark haired priestess led them to the very front of the temple, standing them at an altar where stained glass windows depicted the benevolent Mother Goddess tipping over her Cauldron to create the world, he expected something to go wrong. Someone to burst in and stop them, to convince Elain she was making a mistake.

A roaring in Lucien’s ears turned him into a disaster. This was a dream—he was convinced of it. A beaming, glowing Elain watched him with love filled eyes and Lucien kept waiting for him to wake up alone in bed, having dreamt the entire thing. He did managed to wrap that gold ribbon around their wrists, binding them together in the old tradition. And somehow he managed to get his tongue to work, too—Lucien promised to honor and obey and cherish, sliding to his knees the way he was supposed to, hands laid flat in supplication.

Elain did the same, right up until it came time to kneel. Only then did Lucien’s sense return to him. He caught her by the elbows, shaking his head back and forth. Kneeling was nearly exclusively done by females—males might, if they wanted their partners to know their marriage was equal, but it wasn’t required. But for Lucien, who needed Elain to understand that what he felt for her bordered on worship, he would not allow his wife or mate to kneel before him.

Unless, of course, she was putting his cock in her mouth.

“Not you,” he whispered, well aware that one day his father would die and his people would kneel before him. “Never you.”

And that was that. No one could tell him no—certainly not the frowning priestess, who merely continued on, likely thinking there was something wrong with him. Elain was declared Princess of Day, Elain Spell-Cleaver of Rhodes. His wife. Lucien took his time kissing her, not caring they had a witness, not caring that the scent of him was likely to linger for the rest of the day.

“Come on,” Elain whispered, gathering the skirts of her white and gold dress. Lucien couldn’t help but trail after her, eyes locked on the cascade of curls falling to her waist. Mine. You are mine and I am yours.

She grasped his fingers, leading him through the city that now belonged to her by blood and law. Could she feel it? Could Elain feel the hum the same way Lucien could, like a buzz against his skin? A hyper awareness of it, this place, the very land itself? She seemed warmer, a faint glow emanating from her beautiful, tanned skin that he didn’t think had existed before.

The palace was silent when they returned. Lucien, too sentimental for his own good, swept her up with a laugh as she squealed, clinging to his neck like he might drop her.

“This is how things are done,” he lied, though he’d seen it happen in Winter, once. Maybe he’d bring the tradition here, though there was no reason for it other than Lucien wanted to bury his face in her neck. “Are you still tired?”

“Yes,” she said, his pretty little liar. Lucien could smell the arousal coming off her in waves. “I think I’d like to go to sleep before the sun is fully up.”

Lucien made his way to their shared bedchamber, intending to have the rest of her things brought in later that day.

He wanted a crown made for her, too. Something special that belonged solely to Elain—something pretty she could wear when they went back to Winter and Summer…and that he could show off in Spring.

Look at how pretty my wife looks in gold.

Maybe he’d put her in his lap, too, head on his shoulder while he stared Killain down. Elain would kill him for it, but oh. What a way to go.

Lucien closed their bedroom door, locking it loudly. A sly smile fluttered over Elain’s lips, smothered by the time she turned to face him. “If you’re so tired, we should get you out of your dress,” he said.

Elain stepped back for every step forward he took until he had her all but pinned against the footboard. “Let me help,” he murmured, gesturing for her to turn around.

“You can’t control yourself.”

“Sure I can,” he lied, already stiff beneath his ceremonial dress. His mother was going to murder him when some busybody servant told her he’d asked to have it laundered. “I told you, though—no clothes in my bed.”

“Your bed? Dear husband—”

Lucien’s control shredded the moment those words left her mouth. He just needed to touch her, needed to kiss her.

“There he is,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his carefully braided hair. Elain had them undone almost as quickly as Lucien had her dress at her feet, lifting her by the ass so her legs were wrapped around him.

He was beginning to think there would never be an end to wanting her, needing her. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing her to the bed or climbing on top of her. He didn’t care to do anything but kick off his shoes and clothes, throwing them to the floor as the sun began to climb in the sky, drenching the room in bright, sunny gold.

Elain’s nails dug down his back, drawing a sharp moan of pleasure from him even as Lucien thrust into her body. He felt like he was running out of time, even as it stretched ahead of him for an eternity.

Fuck, she was so tight—clamped around him until Lucien could scarcely breathe. He tried, but her tongue was in his mouth, her fingers sliding up his spine to pull at his hair. This was his fantasy, wasn’t it? His mate, so desperate for him she couldn’t think of anything but him? Lucien sometimes thought it was just him so mindlessly needy while Elain blithely went about her day, forgetting he existed until he stepped back into her awareness.

“I love you,” he whispered against her jaw. He just needed to hear her say it.

Marriage wasn’t enough. Mating bonds weren’t, either. He needed her to say it back.

“Lucien,” she breathed, eyes locked on his own. “Of course I love—” her words broke off in a moan as his fingers found the little nub apexed at her thighs and began to rub. He was, as always, his own worst enemy. She would have said it had he not wanted to also feel her come, too.

“You’re mine,” Lucien growled, daring to give voice to the words he was so often thinking. Elain arched, tightening around him before he devoured her cry of pleasure. He was just behind her, pulled so deep he couldn’t remember anything about himself. Not his name, his home, or any thought outside of the writhing female beneath him. When Lucien came, his thoughts were merely a chant of her name— Elain, Elain, Elain.

“Let me cancel my plans,” Lucien breathed, still twitching as his come slid between them, staining the sheets. “Stay here with me today.”

“Yes,” she agreed, canting her hips again. Insatiable was what she was. That was lucky for him, given Lucien couldn’t help the shuddering groan that ripped out of him. “Yes, I—”

“Prince?” a muffled voice at the door sounded more nervous than anything.

“Not now—”

“It’s the…princess?” that same voice continued, uncertain what Elain’s exact title was. “Her sister is here for her.”

Elain scrambled from beneath him before Lucien had a chance to catch his breath. One moment, his cock was warm, the next it was jammed against the sheets.

“Which sister?” Elain asked hurriedly, pulling a dress from the trunk at the end of their bed. Lucien lamented the loss of her bare, flawless skin. At least he’d managed to consummate his marriage, he told himself. Small mercies from the Cauldron, if nothing else.

“Nesta Archeron?”

“Oh, gods,” Elain whispered, sweeping her hair to one shoulder. “Lucien, button me.”

He did as he was told, grumbling all the same. “Make her wait.”

“You don’t know Nesta,” Elain replied, skirting away when he tried to draw her close. “She wouldn’t come if it wasn’t important.”

Elain went to the door, halting as if she’d just thought of something. “When I return, let's finish this. I’ll make dinner. You eat it.”

Lucien’s heart leapt in his throat. “What about the ceremony?”

“We’ll do that, too. But this is just for us.”

He could only nod for fear he might start weeping if he tried to speak. Her expression softened. “I love you, Lucien. So much.”

And then she was gone.

Taking his heart with her.

#elucien #eye know everyone is worried about the upcoming plot but i think theyre gonna be fine #lmao

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spaceyaceface · 10 months

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Truce - Safety Ch 3

Ominis Gaunt x f!Ravenclaw!Reader (Reader is not MC)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of bad parenting (not explicitly abusive, but will dive more into it in later chapters...)

Summary: Y/N L/N had always despised Ominis Gaunt. He was everything she hated about her life. As the only daughter to a wealthy pure-blood family, she knew it was inevitable that she would someday find herself in an arranged marriage.

But why did it have to be him?

Or, a classic arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn.

Also available on AO3

Chapter One | Chapter Two

The last week had brought nothing but disappointment. Ominis sent a letter off to his parents, trying to reason with them. He played a bit dirty, if he was honest—trying to appeal to the worst parts to their natures to call them off. He told them how Y/N was a Ravenclaw, and would taint the family line of Slytherins. How she didn’t seem to agree with her family ideals. How she didn’t seem to respect the name of Gaunt, and therefore didn’t deserve it.

None of it worked.

After a few more excruciating days after sending them that letter, he received one in return. Not only were they so dead set on marrying Ominis off, but they seemed determined that it had to be her. He had a sinking suspicion as to why, and if his theory was correct… well, his parents might rest at nothing to see this union come through.

He tried his best to keep things together, convincing himself he still needed to focus on classes and get his homework completed. It was difficult. He couldn’t get rid of the nagging voice in his head trying to convince him his life was practically ending.

His whole life, Ominis had kept the secret hope that one day, he might fall in love. The thought of it scared him. Excited him. He’d thought that after school, he’d move somewhere far away from the clinging grasp of his family and settle down. He’d get used to the feeling of being himself without any of his current inhibitions. And maybe, just maybe, a wonderful woman would come his way and keep him in the warmth of her embrace. They were nothing but idle fantasies. Hopes that felt so far off they were foolish to keep. But kept them he had. Now they were shattered.

Still, he kept going, burying his troubled thoughts and pressing on day by day.

It was hard to not have a newfound awareness when it came to Y/N. They were connected in their misery. He found himself listening more intently when her name was mentioned or when she entered a room, slight scent of vanilla giving her away. If she had made any progress on her end, it didn’t show. She seemed to be moping around the castle as much as he was, her friend Constance constantly asking her if she was listening or why she was frowning at the floor.

Hearing about her odd behavior only upset Ominis more. The poor girl didn’t deserve to share in his fate—Ominis may have been able to carry on with his family if he didn’t feel the guilt of dragging her along with him. He had lived the first seventeen years navigating his way around them—head gotten rather good at it, subtly getting them to give him at least a little of what he wanted. But he couldn’t do that this time.

The two of them hadn’t spoken since their detention together. Their last conversation seemed to ignite a truce between them. She hadn’t been even close to rude or insufferable lately, which was a great improvement. He supposed it was best they hadn’t spoken at all—that was normal for them, of course. Even so, he figured it might be best to talk to her and see if she had had any luck on her end. He doubted it, if he was honest, but it would be good to know.

It took him much longer to write the note to her than he would have liked. Because her hatred for him was just beginning to ebb, he felt it was important that he worded it just right. With a sigh, he gave the final result to an owl, sending it off.

Y/N,

I think it would be best to discuss our situation. I propose the music room for a meeting place—not many students go there, and it would provide us the needed privacy. If you are willing, I will be there at 5 p.m. tonight.

Ominis Gaunt

Simple and straight to the point. He figured that approach would work best. Now all he could do was wait and see if she came.

“She’s looking over at us,” Sebastian said from Ominis’s side, the both of them having just walked down to the Great Hall for the morning.

“Good,” Ominis said. “Seems she got my note.”

“Are you sure meeting with her is the best idea? What if she tries to blow you up again?” Sebastian asked.

Ominis sighed. “Really, I don’t think she will. We got through detention just fine, remember? I believe working together—even if we keep each other at an arm’s length—might be the only way to find a solution to all this.”

He could hear the frown in Sebastian’s voice. “If you really think so.”

The rest of the day moved slowly. Ominis figured the anticipation of wondering if she would try blowing him up again made the minutes drag on for ages. Finally, he bid Sebastian a short farewell and made his way to the music room, arriving just after four.

While what he had said in the note was true about students not frequenting the place, he also had his own reasons for choosing the location. As he sat on the bench of the piano, tracing over the keys laid out in front of him, he felt some of the tension leave his body. He began to play.

Ominis wasn’t one to boast, unlike a certain brunet he kept the company of, but he couldn’t resist the pride he felt when he played. There were years and years of practice put into this skill, and as he moved from piece to piece with precision, he allowed himself to get lost in it. It was always soothing—the way the cool of the keys felt under his fingertips, the swells of crescendos and the softness in the rests. He longed for these times, the moments he would let himself drown in the music.

But even in his drowning, he could feel the presence of someone standing in the doorway.

His playing slowed as he finished the phrase the song, finally coming to a stop. “You came,” he said, tilting his head toward the door.

Footsteps approached him at the bench. “I did.” She paused, stopping beside him. “I didn’t know you play.”

“Most people don’t. I don’t exactly advertise it.” He turned toward her as she sat in a nearby chair.

“Maybe you should. You’re rather talented.”

He chuckled. “And to think Sebastian got the idea into my head that you’d come just to duel me again.”

She sighed. “Don’t tempt me. I’m still not so sure about you.”

“Yet here you are.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”

Ominis pressed his lips together. “I suppose neither of us do.”

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t think… well, my parents are really set on this… match.” She sounded deflated. “I’m their only child. As a daughter, I can’t carry on the family name, so the next best thing I can do is marry into a notable one. And the Gaunts… I told you what they think of you all last time we spoke.”

His heart sank. “I see,” he said softly. “I hate to disappoint the both of us any further, but from what I’ve heard back from my own parents, I’m not sure they’ll be persuaded, either.”

Y/N sighed. “I didn’t come here expecting good news. Even if you had managed to convince your parents to break it off, I know it would be a matter of time before I was promised to some other pureblood man.” Her voice turned better as she continued. “My father has always resented me for being a daughter instead of a son. I have nothing to offer him. As much as they tried, my mother could never have another child. Part of me is surprised he didn’t leave her, but I suppose he must love her, in a way. In any case, it just leaves me. The only heir.” She faltered. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying all of this.”

“It’s alright.” He pressed his lips together in a tight smile. “I’m just surprised you trust me with it.”

“If I’m honest, I am, too. But I’ve been thinking since we last talked, and…”

Ominis couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve realized you were wrong about me?”

He could hear the smile in his voice. “Wrong is a strong word. But maybe I was a little wrong about you.”

“Only a little?” he asked through chuckles.

“Ok, mostly wrong. I’ve been thinking back about our time in school, and really, there’s never been any proof to back up what I’ve thought of you. You’ve never been rude to me or anyone of lesser status than you. I mean, you’re friends with the Sallows, and while they’re purebloods, they don’t exactly have the best reputation—” Ominis couldn’t help but laugh at that— “and I’ve even heard rumors you have it out for Duncan Hobhouse, though I always thought it was because you thought him a coward, not because of what he goes around saying about Muggleborns.”

“It’s both. Being a coward just makes him more pathetic.”

She gave a small laugh. “Really, I’ve been a bit of a hypocrite this whole time. I’ve always hated it when people judge me just because of my parents. And I went and did that exact thing to you.” He heard her take a deep breath, shifting a bit in her chair. “I’m sorry.”

He sat for a moment, taking in her apology. “All is forgiven,” he finally said—and he meant it. There was no trace of unease as he said the words. “I can’t blame you for putting up your defenses. We’re both trying to fight what we come from. I just choose to do so more subtly.”

She hummed in agreement. To his surprise, he found himself continuing to speak. “I have to admit it’s nice to know there’s someone like me in the wretched world we find ourselves in. Seeing my brothers and sister live with it, as if nothing is wrong…” he trailed off. “It used to make me feel like the insane one.”

He could feel her lean closer to him. He wondered what expression she wore on her face. Probably one of pity. Disgust. He was shocked when her voice reflected none of those things—only sympathy. “I know. It feels impossible to escape from sometimes, doesn’t it?”

A shuddering breath left his lips. “I’d hoped as the youngest—the least favorite—I had a chance. Seems ridiculous I ever thought that now.”

He could feel her attention on him, making him a little uneasy. He’d told her so little. Yet it felt like he’d revealed himself completely. Their conversation had grown grim, the words he knew they both must be thinking heavy in the air: They had lost any future they had.

She broke the silence. “I always wished I could play piano,” she said softly.

Ominis furrowed his brows. “You never learned?” It surprised him. All of his siblings had—though they had done so begrudgingly. Most other children of higher status had at least a few lessons.

“No,” she answered. He felt her shift, hearing her run her fingers along the keys softly—longingly. “My father deemed it frivolous, though my mother played a bit when I was younger, before he got rid of the piano all together.”

Ominis gave a small smile. “Then how about we show him a little rebellion?” He slide to the far side of the piano bench, patting the now open space next to him.

“I—what?” she said, confused. “You… are you going to teach me?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Unless you’d rather we go on about our horrible upbringings.”

She laughed at that—a real laugh. It was nice to hear after so much animosity between them just a week ago. She took her spot on the bench next to him. “I’d much rather disappoint my father.”

He grinned. “Wonderful. With all that spite, you’ll make an excellent student.”

“Then I hope you’re a qualified teacher,” she said.

“I should hope so. I started learning when I was four. My mother insisted I learn just as my siblings did—prove that my blindness wouldn’t hold me back.” Ominis smiled a bit. “To her delight, I took it up better than any of them. I spent much of my childhood practicing.” It was an excellent excuse for the rest of his family to leave him alone. “We’ll start you with a song in the key of C, it’s the easiest. But first you’ll need to know the names of the notes.”

“They have names?”

“Just letters. You’re a Ravenclaw, I’m sure you’ll catch on quick.” He placed his hand on the piano, splayed out as he began to play the notes, naming each one as he did. It was simple enough, he thought. Just an octave in C.

He felt her settle in beside him, determination growing as she watched. “Right,” she said. “Which note do I start on?”

“C. It’ll be the note to the left of the two taller keys.”

“The black ones?”

“I wouldn’t have a clue.”

She stiffened a bit beside him. “Ah… right. Sorry.”

He felt her tension loosen as he gave a laugh. “It’s quite alright.”

He helped locate the notes, walking her step by step through the octave, then through the first few notes of a simple song he’d played as a child. He couldn’t help but think she’d made quick progress. It wasn’t long until she was able to play a few measures on her own, quickly correcting herself at each sour note.

A satisfied smile rested easy on his face as she finished the last of what he’d taught her. “You’ve done even better than I thought you would, dearest.”

He froze. He hadn’t meant to say it—the word had just slipped out. Where had it even come from? Things had finally started to go well between him, and here he had surely ruined it by one slip of the tongue. He prepared for the onslaught of her anger—

But it never came.

“My father will be most displeased with me. I’m looking forward to showing him.”

She hadn’t even noticed.

He let out the small breath he’d instinctively sucked in.

“Maybe someday I’ll be good enough to play something like you were when I walked in. That was—Merlin’s beard, is it already that late?”

Ominis frowned. They had spent quite some time at the piano. “What time is it?”

“No clue, but it’s completely dark outside… Constance will be back from Quidditch practice any time now, if she’s not already.” She stood. “She’ll wonder where I went off to.”

He sat still on the bench as she rushed to the door, only briefly stopping herself before she walked out. “Thank you. For… for everything. Goodnight.”

She was gone before he could tell her the same.

Y/N was breathless by the time she got back to the Ravenclaw common room. Was the view really worth that many damn stairs? She entered, answering the riddle without half a thought, and scanned the room.

Constance looked up from the sofa she was sitting on, waving at her as she approached.

“How was practice?” Y/N asked. Quidditch was one of the things Constance did that Y/N did. She’d been a Chaser on the team since their fifth year. For a while, her blonde friend had done her best to convince her to take up the sport, but gave up when she realized she couldn’t catch a Quaffle to save her life. Y/N didn’t mind. She often sat in the stands while Constance practiced, reading borrowed books or doing her homework. She’d made an excuse for this evening, telling her that she had needed to look from some specific books in the library.

She realized only now that she had returned empty handed.

“Alright, I suppose.” Constance frowned. “Though Andrew made us run laps. Tell me, what’s the point of that? We’re on brooms. This isn’t rugby.”

“That’s that Muggle sport your dad likes, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and its the best one, right after Quidditch, I tell you.”

Y/N smiled. “Well, maybe Andrew wants to make you a rugby team.”

Constance scoffed. “I wish. At least there’d be a reason for his nonsense.” She looked at her friend, frowning. “You got back late. I’ve been sitting here for at least half an hour. What kept you?”

She looked away from Constance. She’d been arguing with herself on whether or not she wanted to tell her about her engagement to Gaunt—she didn't like lying to her friend. But at the same time, telling her would make it all the more real. She could pretend that her life wasn’t falling apart when she talked to her. There could be something normal in all of the mess. She was afraid of losing that.

So, selfish as it was, she lied.

“I searched for that damn book all over the place. When I asked Scribner, she said someone had checked it out already, but it was all a wild goose chase.”

Constance narrowed her eyes a bit, but didn’t question her further. “Awful. Well, I hope they check it in soon.”

They chatted idly the rest of the night. When they finally went off to bed, Y/N found herself humming as she got into her night clothes—it was the simple song Ominis had taught her.

She’d stood in the doorway of the music room longer than she’d like to admit before he seemed to notice her. There was something entrancing in the way he played—the way his hands danced across the keys with ease, the concentrated expression that overtook him. And the music itself—well, it had done nothing short of stun her.

From all she had known before, Ominis Gaunt was not an emotional person. Even as she reflected on him this last week, struggling to decide whether or not she truly believed all he’d said to her, she had noted how closed off he’d always been. Hiding behind witty remarks and dry humor, speaking to others only when they approached him first. For six long years, she had chalked it up to him being cold hearted and harsh like the rest of his family. But now…

She felt she had really seen a glimpse of the true Ominis through his music. There was a longing in the flowing notes; a pain in the pounding of chords. She understood why he didn’t advertise his skills as an excellent pianist—it exposed him much too completely.

She had gone to that meeting as a test, still wary of changing her mind about the young man she thought she’d pegged just right. She’d left thoroughly convinced that Ominis Gaunt was perhaps even better than he gave himself credit for.

But as she settled into bed, it wasn’t the aching melodies of the evening that repeated inside her mind. No—it was a sound she had never heard before. If you had asked Y/N a week ago what OMinis Gaunt sounded like when he laughed, truly laughed, she would have told you such a sound didn’t exist.

Now she couldn’t get it out of her head.

Chapter Four

TAGLIST:

@skarathewitch @cherryflavoredcoke @phoenix666stuff @wt-fxck

#Ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt safety #ominis #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x you

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nyoomerr · 6 months

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synopsis for each of these options is under the cut!

i won't be jumping straight into a multichapter fic after rent a bingge is done - i'll be returning to my preferred method of waiting until the fic is at least mostly done before posting it rather than posting each chapter as i finish it, so you'll see several oneshots from me before this next multichap is released.

BUT i have begun thinking about what that next multichap fic will be for me, and i'm curious what y'all would prefer!

binggeyuan enemies to lovers

shen yuan is a pidw native who was in seclusion during bingge’s childhood/rise to power. he emerges to the wasteland of the merged realms and tries to pick up some of the pieces of the life he remembers, finding old friends and helping the meager resistance against emperor luo binghe.

one night, bingge ends up in sy’s dreams by accident…. and then ends up quite literally not being able to stay away, even when he tries to avoid sy’s dream realm. as binggeyuan are forced to spend time together in the dream realm, sy realizes that quite a bit of bingge’s insanity stems from xin mo’s influence, and that bingge might hate his life just as much as the world hates him. meanwhile, bingge finds his mind inexplicably soothed just by being around sy, and their slow, slow path from enemies to reluctant allies begins.

this would be a more somber/serious toned fic, more in line with “take me home, bury me there” than any of my other more humorous fics. themes of soulmates + the struggle of knowing logically you should hate someone but ending up loving them anyway, estimated to be 8 chapters.

liushen accidental marriage

set during the abyss years, lqg asks sqq what it would take to pull him from his mourning. trying to brush off the issue of ‘mourning’ entirely, sqq makes the mistake of implying that he’s just struggling to adjust with not having someone living in his house and helping out anymore. naturally, lqg takes this as an invitation to fill that spot (as a husband). sqq doesn’t understand. of course he doesn’t.

generally meant to be lighthearted and my usual brand of funny misunderstandings, but would definitely carry the underlying theme of sqq’s grief during those years. estimated to be about 5 chapters.

bingqiu arranged marriage

sqq is a human cultivator sent as an ambassador to the demon realm to investigate the sincerity and sanity of the demon emperor's proposal of a truce and trade agreement between the realms. sqq is meant to observe how suitable the arrangement would be for both humanity as a whole, and for the human princess that would be offered up for marriage as part of the potential peace agreements.

sqq has a very active idea of what "observing" means though, including everything from interjecting in demonic court to sticking his fingers in the demonic emperor's mouth to feel just how sharp his teeth are. demonic emperor luo binghe decides it would only be appropriate to give sqq a very active way of observing what it would be like to be treated as the human wife of the demon lord, too.

this one would also be more lighthearted / in tune with the way most of my fics are, and would have some nice tasty "but he's already arranged to be wed to another" pining in it. estimated 5 chapters as well.

#do not worry i will not even start on the next fic until rent a bingge is done!!#but i have to start getting excited about the next thing i'll be writing /now/#or else when rent a bingge finishes i'll end up staring blankly at an empty doc for the next 4 months RIP #fic poll #svsss

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silverloreley · 1 year

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Do you any more takes on Carlos being a Madrigal?

I sure do, I'm writing a whole fic!

Carlos had no idea who his father was for a very long time. That's because marriages are not registered on the Isle but also because Cruella forbade everyone to tell Carlos anything about his father, name included (no one talks about Bruno, no matter the universe he's in, poor man). The only thing he knew was that his father had been chased out of Hell Hall at some point and never came back. He doesn't know Bruno actually never left but hid in Hell Hall's secret passageways and stuff, just to take care of him in secret.

Carlos, as the Disney prince(ss) he is, is beloved by pets, in particular, his cat Beelzebub and Bruno's rats have an agreement only for his sake. It's more a truce than else, but they work together to make sure Bruno knows things and can help when Carlos is in a pinch. Dude will be included in the loop, at some point, once Beebs will stop being jealous, and Dude won't bark at all of them anymore.

Carlos is touch-starved, Bruno is even more so, meaning that once they are officially reunited they end up being rather affectionate with each other. Ruffled hair, pats on the back, side hugs, full hugs, anything goes. Evie thinks it's cute, the VKs, in general, are a bit envious, until Bruno figures out and starts doting on them too (except for Mal, Hades is a jealous dad and Bruno likes to be alive, so Mal is the one who has to start any contact).

When it comes the time to meet the Madrigals, Carlos is worried he won't fit in, and this never quite goes away, even years later. He goes along with them as well as he does with Diego and his other de Vil relatives, if not more, but it's not enough to make him move to Encanto for good.

Among his aunts and uncles, his favorite is Julieta: she's everything he imagined a good mom would be and she dotes on him a lot, even more so after she finds out about the kind of childhood he had. He likes Pepa too, but her temper reminds him a bit too much of Cruella's at times, with the added malus of the thundering, which scares him. His second favorite is Felix, for the sole reason he's sunshine incarnate and he can calm down or make smile everyone, two things Carlos desperately needed.

Among the cousins, Mirabel is the one he's closest to (they bond a lot in the fic), the second is Antonio (they bond a lot over animals and being the youngest in the family).

His relationship with Abuela is complicated at best, they both are aware that the lost time can never come back and they have a hard time understanding each other at times, although they try. Abuela hates that Cruella manipulated Bruno and Carlos to the point of making them so nervous with people (more than they'd naturally be) and sees some of her own faults mirrored in it, Carlos sees she tries to fix her mistakes and is a lot more forgiving than he is with his mother. Also, knowing Abuela's sometimes hard personality comes from trauma, he starts to try to figure out what went wrong with his own mother (that could be a fic on its own, now that I think about it).

He won't stay to live in Encanto, although after the rebuilding he'll have his own room there. He'll come back often enough, though, every summer at least (I refuse to acknowledge Carlos' canon death or anything after D3. Actually, D3 is on thin ice too). Since he becomes a veterinarian, with a side specialization/hobby in inventing machinery for pet care, he has his own studio in Encanto. Antonio will follow in his footsteps and will become a vet too, taking over the studio when Carlos isn't there.

Abuela wanted to meet Jane as soon as she heard of her. It was very awkward at first, Jane was a nervous wreck and couldn't talk much, which didn't leave a good first impression, the one who helped the most was Camilo, who started making jokes and impressions until Jane laughed and calmed down enough for the things to flow. Carlos will be eternally grateful to Camilo for it.

Cruella will never ever set foot in Encanto and it's better this way. Pepa would kill her if she did, all the Madrigals were so horrified by how she treated Bruno and Carlos that they hate her without even needing to meet her.

The de Vil cousins and the Madrigal kids get along like a house on fire. Literally, Ivy and Isabela almost set Casita on fire. They claim it was an accident, Hunter and Dolores know better, Carlos pretends he has no idea, Camilo actually has it all on camera and would have used it as blackmail if Luisa had not deleted it all.

And whoops, I think it's long enough, for now ;)

#question answered #encanto/descendants fic #feel free to ask more

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kradogsrats · 10 months

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hi it’s the dolls house anon, my theatre major swag means i spend a lot of time thinking about ibsen and connecting it to my hyperfixations. Anyways i think about Lissa a lot bc i’m a feminist, do you have any headcanons about her and Viren’a earlier relationship/marriage?

oh geez you sure know how to butter me up in a way you will probably regret as I unfurl my extremely long list of Viren/Lissa Things I Have Thought About

They get together fast, though it's initially in a casual way. There's a crazy level of physical and personality chemistry between them immediately, and they're in bed together within like... two weeks, tops. Viren is Lissa's sexy year-abroad fling, basically.

Del Bar is probably the kingdom least favorable to magic, but Lissa has always had a bit of a fascination for the old cautionary tales about wicked mages from the era of the Mage Wars... and the even older, less cautionary ones. She was raised in a fairly cosmopolitan area, but she still has never met a mage before. Yes, she finds it more than a little bit sexy, and yes, Viren absolutely milks that for all it's worth.

They're in their mid-twenties and have both been with people before. Viren's an equal-opportunity bisexual, Lissa has a general (but not exclusive) preference for men. She knows he was with Harrow, specifically, for a long time before they met, but she never questions his faithfulness to her in that regard--by the time they get married, she's familiar enough with Harrow to know he, at least, would be completely unable to hide it.

Marriage comes up in a very "what if you... stayed in Katolis... and we got married... aha, ha just kidding... unless?" kind of way. It's kind of a crisis point for Lissa, because she had kind of taken for granted that her life would play out in a way very centered on her homeland, but she's fallen surprisingly hard for Viren and knows there's not even a shadow of a chance he'll leave Katolis.

She initially really hates living in the castle, though, and probably never fully gets used to it. Del Barian culture places a lot of emphasis on independence, so even though her family was fairly wealthy, she's fully capable of hunting, cleaning, and cooking her own dinner, among other tasks. Having servants for everything is kind of uncomfortable to her and takes a lot of adjustment. She does eventually reach a kind of truce/balance with the various branches of castle staff where they respect her eccentricities when it wouldn't make their jobs harder, and she lets them get on with their work when it would. (Viren, meanwhile, grew up poor and absolutely knows how to cook and clean for himself, but reasons that he also spent ten years doing it for a grown-ass man who simply couldn't be bothered, so taking on extra work purely on principle is not something he's going to be involved in.)

They don't immediately focus on having children, but they do both know for sure they want them, and Lissa happens to get pregnant with Soren fairly quickly. Partway through her pregnancy, Viren has a total breakdown related to his childhood, the way he left home, his mother's death, and other stuff that he'd resolutely shoved down and never spoken to anyone about, all of which has been stirred up by facing having a child of his own. It's a rough time for their relationship, but they get through it.

(Incidentally, Soren then almost dies from whooping cough within his first six months, which is what does the lasting damage to his health... but it doesn't have the same effect on their marriage as his later illness because it's a brief, intense crisis rather than a slow endurance trial of grief.)

Lissa's pregnancy with Claudia is really difficult, and they're told afterwards that she's unlikely to be able to have another child. They both act as if they'd always planned to stop at two, but they probably would have gone for a third, otherwise.

#viren does the miyazaki hair-poof ripple of disgust the first time he enters kpp'ar's house #look i'm sorry the more i think about it the more kpp'ar is functionally just howl but more autistic #headcanons #viren #lissa

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thevindicativevordan · 2 years

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Suppose Tom King gets a run on Action Comics or the Superman Title. How do you imagine his run would look like? What themes would he focus on? What supporting characters outside of Lois what he use? What rogues would he use? Outside of the big ones, would he create new ones or revitalize the underused ones?

On Word Balloon he was asked if he'd ever want to do another long run on a character after Batman, and he did say he'd like to have a long Superman run. I'm not sure if he was serious simply because the notion that Tom King couldn't just ask for a Superman book and get it is hard to believe. Internet hatedom aside, he's one of the only writers who sells purely off the strength of his name. Put him on a C-Lister and people will check his work out, he's demonstrated that ability repeatedly.

If he is serious it's hard to predict what a long run from him would look like, his Batman run was ultimately a love story between Batman and Catwoman. Maybe he would focus on the Clark/Lois marriage since he does seem on a romance kick at the moment between Human Target and Love Everlasting. Some would want a simple continuation of Up in the Sky! and while that would be enjoyable I'm not in the mood for more "Superman is the greatest" stories right now. I want something that has more teeth to it, Superman stories that use him to explore other topics rather than more inward looking masturbatory pieces on how amazing he is.

People would howl, but I would be interested in King doing another attempt at a deconstruction-reconstruction with Superman this time, after his attempt doing that with Batman was scrapped. Long as he only took one of the books and the other one was more traditional fare, I think King could get away with it. King's use of Wally in Heroes in Crisis was bad, but his calling out of the use of Wally as representing "hope" and how hollow that status was given what DC had (not) done with him? Dead on critique there. Give me something in that vein except it's King deconstructing Superman as a "symbol of hope", as an "inspiration", as a "guiding light", rip Clark to pieces over it... and then build him back up and explore what those buzzwords actually mean. What does hope mean? What does it mean to inspire? What does it mean to be a guiding light? How does Superman succeed at standing for or as those things? What happens when he fails? King could do a great job examining the post-Kingdom Come understanding of Superman as somehow being "greater" than the rest of his peers, pointing out the flaws in that understanding yet demonstrating why it has value nonetheless. That's what I would want out of a Tom King run anyway.

As for the rogues and the supporting cast, he was asked in that same Word Balloon interview if he had to pick a Superman Rogue to do a "One Bad Day" oneshot for like he was doing for Riddler, who would he pick? He answered that he only liked Lex and Darkseid but wouldn't pick either, and thought the rest of Superman's Rogues sucked which was a bummer to hear. Funnily enough he ended up dismissively picking Metallo, the one I would love to see him write! He clearly doesn't see much value in Metallo, but I think if he looked deeper he'd see the depth there. Maybe I'm presuming too much, but I think Tom King could get a lot of use out of a former American soldier who sacrificed body and soul at the behest of his government to fight an alien enemy, only to be discarded once the government reached a truce with said enemy who became more popular with the public than the would-be hero who had turned himself into a killing machine, ostensibly to protect them from that alien. Not to mention Corben being a failed wife guy who wanted Lois to be his redemptive love who made all the sacrifices worth it, only for her to spurn him because he's an asshole and she's not interested. Metallo is a fallen Tom King protagonist turned supervillain and I want to see him write that character.

Otherwise his Lois, Jon, and Kara are great, his Perry is satisfyingly Perry in Up in the Sky!, his Jimmy Olsen would probably be a more black comedy version of the Fraction take, and if his Steel characterization is even close to how good Mr. Terrific was in Strange Adventures inject that shit right into my veins baby! Couldn't tell you what his Conner would be like, although he almost wrote a New 52 Superboy series way back when.

#tom king #superman

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penig · 2 years

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Scot’s The Talisman Readalong

Seems I’m putting more literature than sims on here right now, but it’s not my fault Dracula Daily happened or that I’m stalled doing sims writing right now, which was a legit response to the August I had (I think I’m almost ready to go back to Widespot, but almost isn’t yet and also the game is crashing a lot), and @oldshrewsburyian seems to feel lonesome in her Talisman Readalong comments, so I may as well spill what I’ve got.

I haven’t read The Talisman before. Ivanhoe didn’t blow me away enough at 13 (unlike Dickens at 12 and 13, when I read all the novels in chronological order; I think Scot just isn’t funny enough to appeal to middle-school me) to tempt me on to a novel about the Crusades, a series of wars I’ve always considered particularly stupid, even back then. But now that I’m in my 60s I figured, eh, why not? The e-book was only 99 cents. I’m reading slowly on purpose, interspersing it with queer historical romances, so as not to run ahead of the book group, which does seem to be rather small. Next chapter for me is X, so I have the brakes on. At the moment nothing profound has struck me, but I find that I keep running it past middle-school me, which I don’t normally do even when reading books written for her age group, which pads out the ideas a bit.

• Middle-school me is sitting up and taking notice of the Saracen, the eastern cavalier, the Moslem, the Emir, the eastern warrior - wow, these two have fought, called truce, eaten and drunk together, exchanged highly personal views on things like marriage and religion, and agreed to travel together awhile before, in Ch. III, one of them finally brings up the question of what their names are. Sir Kenneth, Knight of the Leopard, though obviously the hero (being not only Christian but blond and Scottish), is a bore, of pedestrian wit at best, and kind of a jerk, but Sheerkouf, Lion of the Mountain, is suave and sassy and potential crush material. I’m afraid middle-school me has so far drunk the milk of imperialism unawares as to have had a bit of a fetish for the Exotic. Even grownup me hopes devoutly for the whole enemies-to-friends process and will be disappointed if he doesn’t play a major, crushworthy, role in the book. • Ooh, Sheerkouf is part djinn! Definitely crush material, please feature him enough in this story to give middle-school me something to work with! • The hermit, however, needs therapy. You don’t scourge yourself like that if you don’t. Repentance is all very well but it does no one any good without atonement and how is he supposed to do anything constructive to atone out here in the middle of nowhere? Torturing yourself is not a virtue, dude - get off your ass and feed the poor or something. Preferably something that addresses the sort of wrong you did in order to get so down on yourself. (That’s all grown up me; middle-school me had not yet considered this question at all, ever.) Presumably his great sin will be revealed as plot-relevant at some point, or it’d hardly be made such a mystery of now. • Rats! After the djinn bit I was half ready to believe Sir Walter was giving Sir Kenneth actual miraculous visions. I would have had less trouble suspending my belief about the secret door if there’d been miraculous visions, but now I’m asking all sorts of inconvenient questions about who made the chapel and why these women are here and where they’re hiding and where’s their knightly escort and where’d the rosebuds come from, because I doubt very much roses bloom in the landscape described? The fact that one of them is Sir Kenneth’s lady love to whom he has never spoken and whose history and interior life we get a rundown on without any indication that the woman can speak doesn’t help. Edith - her name is Edith, supporting my contention that one generation’s dowdy middle-aged name became so due to a previous generation’s conviction that it was Romantic causing them to give it to too many girls who turned out to be ordinary women. I hope she gets to say and do a few things before the book ends. • I also notice that Sir Kenneth is doing the whole courtly love pure and chaste from afar thing and Edith has more real-world ideas on the subject. • Middle-school me is angry at Scot for calling the dwarfs ugly and talking about their behavior and conversation as if he assumes it to be natural to them and not a show put on, passive-aggressively, when big people are around. I bet they sweep that floor perfectly well when they don’t have an audience. But this is what knights and such people think dwarfs are like so by golly they’ll just be like that. Presumably they’ll have a role to play later, too, and I cringe in anticipation. • And then we change scene to the English camp and Richard the Lion-Heart. I’ve never really liked Richard the Lion-Heart. He wasn’t a very good king, as far as I can tell. And he’s not making any great impression on me here, either. • Wow, Sir Kenneth is humble and practical enough to live in the same miserable tent as his squire and servant and dog, and to give his sick squire the good bed, but also proud enough to insist on retaining as much ground in the camp as he needed when he had a proper knightly following. That’s actual character stuff beyond “valiant knight of his time,” good for him. • Finally getting some exposition on things like what Sir Kenneth’s mission was and where the women in the Chapel came from is not helping me buy into them particularly. How the heck did so many of the women in camp, including Richard’s wife, just slip out (and presumably back in again by now) without causing a huge stir and gossip? • Wait - Engeddi? That whole hermit/secret chapel business is in the plains of Engeddi? As in Vineyards of Engeddi? From the Song of Solomon? Hoo boy, if you’ve ever read the Song of Solomon this knowledge definitely puts a more down-to-earth spin on Sir Kenneth/Edith, whether he acknowledges it or not. • And King Richard isn’t buying the whole courtly love deal, either, from the hints he’s dropping, which is hard lines on Kenny boy, who is not, in fact, daring to hope for anything even as tangible as those rosebuds. (Where are those, anyhow? No way he just tossed them out. Are they dried somewhere in his luggage, or concealed next to his heart, waiting for a crucial moment to fall out of it?) • Wow, this whole camp is a nest of jocks and vipers, huh? This sort of thing is exactly why I think of the Crusades as a series of train wrecks that never should’ve happened. • The physician is behaving really well in the face of a lot of rudeness. Just give the king some medicine already! I hope we go to Saladin’s camp. His entourage can’t be any worse than this, and Sheerkouf is presumably there. Definitely the most attractive character so far. There’s nothing particularly wrong with Sir Ken but there’s nothing particularly right with him so far, either, except for taking care of his people.

#The Talisman #literature #medievalism readalong #reading with an earlier version of myself

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whatsbehindthefacade · 1 year

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Leonard McCoy : The Divorce (trigger warning: euthanasia/assisted suicide, alcoholism)

Leonard marries Jocelyn Darnell in 2249. The two had initially started their relationship in their senior year of high school. It's not a particularly big or flashy wedding, just a small local one with primarily close family and friends in attendance. Their daughter Joanna is born in mid 2250 and is instantly the apple of her father's eye. For a while, it's typical family life, with Leonard getting set up in a medical practice.

Things however then took a turn for the family. As it was, Leonard had been working long hours in order to help support them, and in 2254, his father became ill with pyrrhoneuritis, a disease for which there was no known cure at the time. This leaves Leonard attempting to split his time between his own young family, his father, and his work. What time he does get to spend at home, Leonard focuses more on Joanna. Shortly after this, without his knowledge and struggling with loneliness, Jocelyn begins an affair with old flame Clay Treadway.

As his condition worsens, David McCoy begs his son to turn off his life support and let him die, rather than continue to endure such horrific pain. In despair, Leonard agrees, and David McCoy passes away. A week later, it is announced that a cure for pyrrhoneuritis has been found, leaving Leonard wracked with guilt, which he confides in his wife, as well as turning on occasion to alcohol as a crutch. The marriage, already on shaky grounds at this point, begins to deteriorate further, with the two arguing more frequently.

In early 2255, when returning home early in the hopes of surprising his wife and daughter and making up for some of the arguments, Leonard instead stumbles upon his wife's affair, and the two have another blazing argument, resulting in Jocelyn kicking him out, and Leonard going to drown his sorrows in a bar.

Angry at Leonard, and feeling like he has not treated her as she wanted and she was always second-best, Jocelyn aimed to take everything from him in the resulting divorce. Using both his recent struggles with alcohol and his assistance in his father's death, alongside her own family's high social standing, she succeeded in getting custody of Joanna, as well as possession of their assets, and also making sure that Leonard was struck off from practicing medicine in the state, leaving him with 'nothing but his bones'. Jocelyn was reluctant to allow Leonard any access to their daughter at first, with any contact between the two solely happening with Leonard's mother Eleanora acting as an intermediary, passing along letters and short video messages where she could. Leonard then went on to enlist in Starfleet.

In 2258, after the ordeal with the Narada and the destruction of Vulcan, Jocelyn re-established contact with Leonard. Though seeming somewhat reluctant, she told him that she had heard about what had happened, and the two made a quiet truce for the sake of Joanna. Jocelyn, who had married Clay in the interim, also explained that there was need for her and Clay to relocate, however they would not be able to take Joanna with them. It was agreed that Leonard's mother would take custody of her whenever he was aboard the Enterprise.

#headcanon #euthanasia tw #assisted suicide tw #headcanon: leonard mccoy #headcanon: joanna mccoy #alcoholism tw

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years

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Honey, how are you? First, I want to thank you. Your art makes me happy. I love every piece of it. I may sound repetitive but I rather be than not tell you this at all.

That being said... “Miss Cecily was seen shoving both Lord Bridgerton and her betrothed into an empty room during the Ashton Ball. Both men came out two hours later, looking almost neutral towards each other. A stark difference to what we've been witnessing these past few weeks, dare we assume a sign of truce?” So, how did it happened? I thought Cecily wouldn’t stand to breathe the same air as Anthony after everything much less help Anthonias reconcile. How? Will we read about it?

Speaking of friendships… Do I want Cecily and Lucie to interact more? Yes, I do. Alongside Chérie they’ll be like the golden trio.

“I’m not your wife yet,” Cecily said with a huge smile and Elias clutched at his chest. “This time next week you will be,” he said and turned to you. I. LOVE. THEM. SO. MUCH.

His daughter. He had called you his daughter. I cried... I love Percy.

“Y/N, I don’t ask for your forgiveness,” he managed to say. “You’re too much like your mother, I know what it means. You will not forgive or forget, all I ask of you is to be involved in your life somehow. That’s all.” I cried again...

Hugh heaved a sigh and leaned in slightly so that you could hear him better. “As the only unmarried man who’s not planning on asking for your hand in marriage here, can I say something that everyone in this ballroom can see?” “By all means.” “Even heartbreak isn’t powerful enough to take anything from you,” he said. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” HUGH, FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, YOU'RE TOO MUCH HONEY, HAVE MERCY ON MY POOR LONELY HEART

“You’ve lost your mind if you believe even for a second that I will let you marry anyone when I know you love me,” AND I LOVE YOU That's what you should have said Anthony you DUMMIE!

“Lord Bridgerton and I will have a conversation that’s long overdue,” he answered your unasked question and you took a shaky breath, then nodded and started making your way back to the house. So, we will read about it, right? Right?

Love you!

Hi loveee! 😱❤

Omg please never think that it's repetitive, your kindness makes my day!❤❤

We will actually see Anthony and Cecily becoming...friends, very hesitantly 😂 But Cecily knows how important Anthony is to Elias, and now that she heard from Elias that Anthony is in love with Cherie...😏❤

Cecily and Lucie together would make an unstoppable team 😂

Elias and Cecily will be such a cute married coupleeee❤

Percy officially called her his daughter! 😭❤

Hugh will be there for Cherie a lot ❤❤😏

I think Anthony was very shocked 😈

We will definitely read about it, it's gonna be the extra sceneee! ❤

Thank you so much honey! ❤❤❤

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ao3feed-fengqing · 3 months

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by nightknightssupermacy

After eight hundred years of animosity, Feng Xin and Mu Qing have finally called truce on their age long feud. And surprisingly enough, they have gone over a year without a major fight.

Xie Lian, ever the mediator, is determined to get his old attendants to get along. While neither are outwardly willing to go along with this plot, they find themselves spending more and more time together. But getting to know each other better means stirring up long buried feelings for both of them. But Feng Xin's married, and Mu Qing would rather die than let his own feelings complicate that. But little does Mu Qing know, Feng Xin's marriage has been on the rocks for a while now and neither of them are prepared for the consequences.

Words: 4955, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Fēng Xìn (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Mù Qíng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Huā Chéng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Jian Lan (Tian Guan Ci Fu)

Relationships: Fēng Xìn/Mù Qíng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Huā Chéng/Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú)

Additional Tags: minor ocs that don't matter to you, but they do to me, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fēng Xìn and Mù Qíng are Idiots in Love (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), they're actually so stupid, somebody help them, background hualian, Present Feng Xin/Jian Lan, (They're Married), Protective Fēng Xìn (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Mù Qíng is Bad at Feelings (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Post-Canon, shared trauma as a love language, no beta we die like feng xins heterosexuality, Bisexual Fēng Xìn (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Mù Qíng is a Panicked Gay (Tiān Guān Cì Fú)

#ao3feed #fanfic #fengqing #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #feng xin #mu qing

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eventiderpg · 11 months

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BASICS

Faceclaim: Angelina Jolie Name: Thea Ellis Age: 47 Gender: Cis female Home: District 2 Role: Mentor Personality: Strong, lethal, dutiful, standoffish, stoic, fragile Song: Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier

BIOGRAPHY

In District Two, there are two ways to earn the highest of honors for your family — become a Victor and bring fame and fortune to the district, or become a Peacekeeper. Markus Ellis was the latter, having been recruited to train in the district's gendarmerie at a young age, and he quickly climbed the ranks to eventual become Head Peacekeeper in District Two. His calculated and stoic nature allowed for a certain amount of detachment that was necessary for the job, but that same coldness easily bled into his personal life. He married for status, though the marriage was short-lived as his wife died in childbirth, leaving behind a daughter for him to care for on his own — Thea.

They say when you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it from knives, and the same can be said for Thea. Her upbringing was likely no different than many of the children in her district — they are all raised to be warriors, to learn to be ruthless and kill without remorse. Thea's father was simply harsh in these teachings, in a way that molded her into a deadly creature the moment she could pick up a knife. She fought tactically and trained in the Career Academy with a level of skill not everyone had, and while she knew no differently, there was always a softness behind Thea's cold-blooded exterior that she had no idea how to deal with — so instead, she buried it under her passion for training.

When fifteen year old Thea Ellis is reaped for the 43rd Hunger Games, no one in the audience bats an eyelash. Her head is held high as she ascends the steps of the reaping stage, stone-faced and hungry for blood as her eyes scan the crowd, practically goading someone else to volunteer. No one does — no one would dare.

Her games go as expected. A force to be reckoned with, Thea is fierce in battle and trained to wield several weapons, making her one of the deadliest tributes in years. She picks off her opponents as if they are nothing but sheep scurrying away from the slaughterhouse, though there is one tribute she can't bring herself to brutally kill. She sees an unnerving amount of humanity in one of the tributes from a lower district, and the softness in her rears its ugly head as they are the final two living tributes. Her sword is held above her at the end, her opponent knocked to the ground and looking up at her with desperate eyes. For the first time, Thea hesitates — her grip on the weapon slacks and she nearly has the thought to hold a hand out in truce, but she never gets the chance. Her hesitancy is picked up on by the Gamemakers before she can do anything more, and without a moments notice a mutt emerges from the ground under the two of them and bites the head off of her opponent — almost friend — clean off. Thea is declared the winner.

Distraught is not enough to describe how torn apart Thea is when she exits the arena. She hides it well, her stoic nature coming in handy as she's paraded around the Capitol as their shiny new toy. This goes on for years, though each one gets easier as she becomes older and older news — the Capitol's affinity for selling desirable Victors is widely known, however, and Thea is no exception to that. She becomes a Mentor when the previous one retires, needing a distraction from the flashbacks and hallucinations she's subject to from her Games. She thinks mentoring sure winners will put her mind at ease — instead more pieces of her break each and every time she loses a child in her care.

These days, they call her the Ghost, and to be honest Thea prefers it. No one has called on her to service them for years now, mainly because they'd rather not deal with one of her episodes in the midst of their fun. She haunts the halls of the Tribute Center during the Games, doing what she can to help her tributes even if they don't often need it. The Quarter Quell has put her in an even deeper hole, as she now has to face the burden of keeping her peers alive rather than just children, but she still plans to do everything she can to help them live.

Written by Kal

#oc rp #the hunger games rp #original character rp #thg rp #new rp #eventidebio

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vksehfk11 · 1 year

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판도라 조작된 낙원 12화 다시 보기 12회 e12 (드라

판도라 조작된 낙원 12화 다시 보기 12회 e12 링크<<

판도라 조작된 낙원 12화 다시 보기 12회 e12 (드라마

Fulk V, Count of Anjou, married Melisande, the heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Jerusalem in 1129, entrusted the territory to his eldest son Geoffroy,[2] and moved to Jerusalem, where he became co-king in 1131. He sought to strengthen the authority of his wife, Melisande, and clashed with the faction of lords descended from the crusader commanders. They had two sons, Baudouin and Amory. Fulk fell from a horse while hunting in 1143, fell into a critical condition and died shortly thereafter.

Baldwin, who was 13 at the time of succession, ascends the throne as Baldwin III. Because of her age, her mother Mélisande acted as regent, but when she did not give up full power even after reaching adulthood, she divided her kingdom into north and south, waged a civil war, and forced her mother to retire. Afterwards, he occupied Ascalon, gained a bridgehead to Egypt, married Theodora, the niece of Manuel I of the Eastern Roman Empire, and tried to ally with him.

Amor was married to Agnes of Courtenay and had three children, Sibylla, Baldwin and Alix (who died in infancy). was against it Instead of divorcing Agnes, Amory made Sibylla and Baldwin recognized as deficits, and separated from Agnes on the pretext that her great-great-grandfathers were the same. After that, Amor tried to expand his power like his brother by marrying Maria Komnini, a member of the Eastern Roman Empire and the imperial family, while attempting to invade Egypt's Fatimid dynasty. Returned to inaction by Dean, he died of dysentery in 1174.

His eldest son, Baldwin, ascended the throne as Baldwin IV, but at the time he was a patient with leprosy, an incurable disease. Therefore, he tried to stabilize the kingdom by marrying his sister Sibylla to a powerful nobleman. The first marriage partner was Guglielmo of the Alleramicci family, the eldest son of the Marquis of Montferrato, but when he died of malaria, leaving only her heir, Baldwin, she became Guy de Rue. He married Jinyang again and made her regent. Baldwin IV, suffering from illness and repeating battles and truces with Saladin, who became the ruler of Egypt, designated Baldwin, his maternal nephew, who was the surviving son of Sibylla and Guglielmo, as his successor and died young at the age of 24.

After the death of Baldwin, his sister Sibylla and her half-sister Isabella, who was born to Amor and Maria Komnini, sometimes became queen, but the wives ruled. He was only 8 years old, and at the same time a sickly child, he died after a year, and his mother, Sibylla, received the crown.

Meanwhile, Amor I's new wife, Maria Komnini, remarried her amorite, to Balian of Belin, who was a nobleman opposed to Sibylla and Guy de Lusignan. Balian worked with Raymond of Tripoli, who was the regent of King Baldwin V, to try to establish his stepdaughter, Princess Isabel, and her husband, Honfroi of Toron, as kings. loyal and fail After the loss of Jerusalem in the aftermath of the Battle of Hattin and the death of Sibylla in 1190, Balian divorced Isabel and remarried Corrado of Montferrato.

Corrado, the younger brother of Sibylla's first husband, Guglielmo, had a track record of defending Tire from Saladin's attack, and was favored by the lords rather than incompetent. Philip II of France, who came from the Third Crusade, also supported Corrado, and Richard I of England supported him on the contrary, but in the end, at the council of nobles in 1192, he had to recognize Corrado as the next king of Jerusalem. Corrado, who became co-king with her wife Isabel and Conrad I, was assassinated by Assassin in less than a month.

Isabel married two more times as if she was being sold after that, but she could not see her son who would be her successor. Maria married Jean de Brienne in 1212. She gave birth to Isabella II at the age of 21 and died of childbirth fever shortly after.

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shepherds-of-haven · 2 years

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OBSESSED with Shepherdton, which means I've been thinking of how to work my evil lil MC(s) into it... but i don't like researching real history so... Blest history question times instead!! Specifically for the Southern countries/Islands... Which country is most likely to have a town of women building weapons ala Princess Mononoke? (Elinden? Four factions!? What's going on with Kresh?) The truce dependent marriage makes me want to have a bit of War-tension 😄 Also are the races of SHoH in this (minus mage for obvious reasons) or is real world equivalent stuff? I'm wondering for cultural reasons bc Banquets need FOOD and I still want to write snippets about all the food on patreon lol also are the Sesz Isles mountainous? Bc of the Khav? ALSO thank you for the anthony to chase parallels bc i love a man who says he doesn't want to be in love and then Does It Anyway (dramatically too) 🥰🥰🥰

I love it! I'm imagining the Shepherdton!verse as taking place in a different geography than either Blest or Europe, so the Southern isles don't really exist as such (but neither do Spain or France??), so you can really make anything you want up! I kind of picture it like this:

With Ayla and Briony coming from the Ibarran Alliance, Croelle being an emissary from the Jeritzan Theocracy, and MC coming from either Hypolita or Damar, take your pick! (Or you can invent a country of your choosing off the map, too.) And "London" is based in the Kingdom of Albion: you can also call it Gladstone City if you want, depends on how AU you want to get with it or how closely you want to stick to Bridgerton! I'm borrowing heavily from other AUs/stories I've cobbled together in the past lol.

So Shepherdton!verse is not really drawing much from the cultures we know in our Blest! To answer your question, though, Kresh would probably be your best bet for a Southern Isle that has a Princess Mononoke-style town! Elinden would also be a good choice, but Kresh is rather wild and untamed, while Elinden is heavily contested and explored by different factions, so Kresh gives you more freedom to invent your own thing if you want!

I go back and forth on whether or not magic/Diminished stuff is present in this world! Initially it was not and it was more heavily following the rules of Bridgerton, so no Mages or Ket or Diminished or Norms; but sometimes when I'm playing around, I like a world where magic is a thing, it's just not a thing in Albion, but is really commonplace over in Ibarra and those other nations. It's like not common for London natives to have magic, but it's also not so out-of-the-ordinary that it's like a huge deal, if that makes any sense? Kind of like 19th-century Europeans being like "damn I heard some guy named Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone and they're like using that over in America" "oh really? that's crazy" or "oh wow I didn't realize tea is brewed totally differently in India and China, isn't that interesting?" rather than like "oh my god magic???" ...If that makes any sense? It's kind of just like a thing they do "over there" in those foreign cultures and is interesting for like parlor tricks at parties and stuff, and is just seen as a cultural difference or quirk, but it's not like a really huge deal otherwise. Viewed about the same as finding out that women in Ibarra are allowed to ride and shoot, magic is also just another "thing" they do over there that isn't really done in Albion.

And then sometimes I branch off of that and I'm like "okay but what if magic is a bigger deal and like all noble families covet marriages that might produce Mage children, but only women can practice it" or something wild like that, just to make the whole arranged marriage thing even crazier and more dramatic... and there's like whole marriage markets where bachelorettes are pursued not for their accomplishments in dancing or their beauty, but for their demonstrated power and talent in magic LOL

ANYWAY as you can see, I'm just going hog-wild with it hahaha, but I don't have any strict rules about how this world works, I just go with whatever strikes my fancy and produces the Maximum Drama for the situation at hand right now!! In terms of culture, I'm imagining Albion as kind of gaslamp-y Regency England, Ordelay as a mix of Wales and France, Ibarra as a pretty hot forested country with a wild exotic mix of Mage, Elf, and Ket cultures, Damar as being more Northern Blest and kind of strict and austere and leaning more towards Ket and Hunter sensibilities, Hypolita as more Southern Crescent/Conte/Sesz Isles vibes with heavy Mage and Elf influence, and the Jeritzan Theocracy as more rocky and mountainous and kind of a mix between Lindell and like Vim and the Waste, somewhere thereabouts!

I'm really just throwing everything into a pot and making things up as I go along lol so honestly feel free to discard any of this!!! The Sesz Isles are somewhat mountainous and green (think Hawaii), though most of their cities are on the coasts, and a lot of them are also just tropical beachy or flat rainforest as well!

Anthony owns my life right now so of course I had to make the Rake parallel between him and Chase! 😭 And both would be so dramatic about it!

#i hope any of that helps!#Bridgerton #Bridgerton AU #AU #worldbuilding #Shepherds of Haven

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

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Day 16: Tulips

With the possible exception of all of the eighth years getting along and actually becoming friends, regardless of their former rivalries, the first half of Draco's eighth year at Hogwarts was remarkably ordinary. Funny how it took a war to see that they were all just children and all being used as pawns in a bigger game.

There was also, for Draco, the realization that he had a bit of a crush on Potter. He found that he actually really enjoyed the other boy's company; he enjoyed his snarkiness and the way that Draco could see mischief in his eyes. He liked the way Potter listened, liked the way he always seemed to want to casually touch other people. He liked him, plain and simple.

But other than the unlikely truces turned friendships (and in the case of Potter, turned crush) nothing weird happened, no one tried to kill him (or other students), no prophecies were unveiled, there were no dementors, no psychopath teachers, nothing. It was almost enough to make Draco bored.

Almost.

There was nothing strange until one unassuming morning in March, when they were all sitting in the great Hall, eating breakfast, and quizzing each other for the upcoming test in Transfiguration.

Potter interrupted the heated debate that Draco was having with Granger with a blurted, "What the fuck?"

Everyone looked over at him, including Hermione and Draco, to see what had happened.

"There's a tulip in my coffee cup!" the other boy said.

"So there is," Draco replied in amusement.

Everyone chuckled and Potter tried to figure out who had put the bright yellow tulip there but Draco really didn't have time to think about that because he and Hermione were back to arguing about Transfiguration theory.

He probably wouldn't have thought about it again but that evening as they got ready for bed, Draco felt a strange twinge in his magical core, like you got when you were preparing to cast a strong spell.

Before he could really dig into what had happened, Potter's bed curtains flew open, "Alright, you lot," he said, a laugh ruining the stern look he was attempting. "Who put this here?" he asked, holding out a red tulip that he'd apparently found on his pillow.

(Read more below the cut)

Each of them denied having any knowledge of how the tulip could have found its way into Potter's bed, but a bit of unease settled in Draco's stomach. Potter put the second tulip in with the first in the vase on the windowsill and laughed it off.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, there was a story he'd been told as a child. A story that he couldn't quite grasp but filled him with a bit of apprehension none the less.

Still, this was nothing like the sort of anxiety that Draco had been accustomed to forcing himself to sleep through for the past few years, so he put it from his mind and went to sleep.

And again, he might have been able to forget about it, if it weren't for the fact that the next morning he felt a tug at his magical core and then a few minutes later, Potter appeared with another tulip. White this time and he'd found it in the pocket of his robes. "Seriously, what the hell you guys?" he laughed.

Everyone else laughed too, but Draco frowned, the memory of the story niggling at the back of his mind once more, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He continued to try to remember throughout the rest of the week and Potter continued to get tulips. They showed up in his book bag, the showed up in place of his quills, they showed up on his plate at meals, they showed up everywhere and anywhere. One even replaced his loofa in the shower.

By the end of the week, Potter was getting a bit irritated and he'd had to enlarge the vase multiple times to fit all of the tulips. Draco wasn't sure why Potter hadn't just thrown them out, but it wasn't his place to say anything, certainly.

On Saturday, when everyone had gone off to Hogsmeade for the morning, Draco fire called his mother.

"Draco, darling," she said, smiling at him, "I'm so pleased to hear from you. How are you?"

He endured the predictable pleasantries before he said, "Listen, mother, the reason I called," he paused there because this was all a bit ridiculous. "Well, it sounds silly really, but there was a story you told me when I was little," he said. "Something about a wizard who had flowers appear out of nowhere? I can't remember it."

"Why?" she asked, her face serious. "Draco, why are you asking me about that story?"

"No reason," he said quickly. "It's just something that came into my head," he lied.

"Who's receiving tulips, Draco?"

"It's nothing!" he repeated. "And I never said there were any tulips."

"If I tell you the story, will you tell me the truth?"

Draco sighed but nodded.

"The story," she began, "was about your great, great, great uncle Silas. Silas was a difficult man, everyone always said so. He was haughty and rude; he was quite clever but not terribly gracious about it."

"Mother," he interrupted, his knees were growing cold and sore from kneeling on the common room floor, "could we just skip to the meat of the story."

"Yes, alright," she sighed. "Long story short, Silas fell in love with a muggleborn. His family obviously refused to let him get married, assuming that the love would fade eventually. There was an arranged marriage in there as well, but that's not really important. What is important, is that the person he fell in love with began to find tulips everywhere. Every time she went to pick up something, it turned into a tulip; at her home, her work, everywhere she went, tulips."

Draco felt something in the pit of his stomach drop. This couldn't be happening.

"He was pining for her, heartbroken that he couldn't be with her," she said. "Now, magic can't create something from nothing, so in each of the tulips was a little bit of Silas' magic."

"Like a horocrux?" he asked in horror.

"No, darling, nothing so sinister as that. But the flowers were slowly draining his magical core and he was growing steadily weaker." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "So, as the story goes, when he was so weak he could barely summon the strength to stand, he went to her to confess his love. What did it matter if he was going to die? When he told her of his love, she kissed him and his magic was restored. The family was convinced that it was true love and that the love that bound the two of them together was obviously stronger magic than that of blood status."

Draco rubbed a hand over his face, "So, this was a true story?"

"Yes, it's all rather well documented as it would have to be in the case of something like this." She gave him her most commanding look, "Now, I've held up my end of the bargain, so it's your turn. Tell me who's receiving tulips, Draco."

"Harry Potter," he whispered.

Her eyebrows rose, "You have to tell him, Draco."

"I can't!" he said, shaking his head, "You know I can't. He couldn't possibly feel the same way, he couldn't possibly love me, too-"

Something shattered behind him and he yanked his head back to see the boy in question standing there, bouquet of tulips in his hands. The vase had dropped and been smashed, water was soaking into Potter's socks but he didn't seem to notice.

Draco promptly ended the fire call with his mother and wondered if it would be possible to transfer to Beauxbatons to complete the year. It was either that or he should just go off to die.

"How much of that did you hear?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Most of it," Potter confessed with a little wince. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop but then I heard her talking about how everything in that girl's life became tulips and I knew you were talking about me. I didn't realize how the story would end," he hastened to add. "I just thought that she might know something about a curse or spell that had been cast on me."

Draco rubbed his forehead, "Look, could you just forget about the whole thing?"

"Forget about it?" Potter asked, sounding a little hysterical at this point. "Draco, it turned six quills into tulips in the past three days. Six!" he shook his head. "No, I can't forget about it and I certainly can't let you die."

Draco stood up and balled his hands into fists, "Always ready to play the hero aren't you?"

"What?" the other boy asked, obviously taken aback.

"Ready to play the martyr," he sneered. "Well I won't have it. I won't have you tying yourself to me just because you're afraid that I'll die if you don't return the sentiment."

"But I already do return the sentiment," Harry said, sounding bewildered. "Sorry, maybe I should have said so, but I thought that was obvious from the story."

"What?"

"Well, your mum said that it was true love's kiss that restored his magic, true love that made it possible for the flowers to appear in the first place. I just assumed it was obvious that I was in love with you, too."

"You are?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe that this was possible.

"Yeah," Harry replied with a little shrug. "I mean, I thought maybe it would have been good to start with a date or something," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "It's why I'm still here, I wanted to invite you to go to Hogsmeade with me."

"You did?"

Harry nodded again. "But I'm glad to kiss you, for the unselfish reason that it will restore your magic," he said, glancing down at the flowers in his hands before looking back up, "And for the selfish reason that I would really just like to kiss you."

"You would?" he asked.

Harry huffed at him, "Are you going to stop sounding like you doubt every word out of my mouth?"

"Sorry, it's just-" Draco started but then Potter was across the room, dropping the tulips as he cupped Draco's face in his hands and leaned in until they were a mere inch apart.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his eyes flickering between Draco's.

"Yes," Draco breathed.

Harry gave him a little grin and leaned in to kiss him, his soft, full lips, gently caressing Draco's, and Draco felt like his heart stopped beating for a moment before a surge of magic, and joy, and love came rushing in and filled him to bursting.

He wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him in closer and Harry hummed, molding his lips to Draco's for a moment before pulling back and resting their foreheads together.

"That was-" Draco started.

"Fantastic," Harry agreed. "Do you feel better? Not going to die on me or anything?"

Draco laughed and pinched his side, "I think we were a long way off from that."

"I don't know," Harry replied, tilting his head to press a kiss to the tip of Draco's nose. "There were an awful lot of tulips."

"Yes," Draco replied, pulling back to look at the tulips strewn about the floor, "And you've dropped them all on the ground. That's quite rude, you know."

Harry huffed at him, "Prat," he said fondly before drawing away to swish his wand and collect all of the tulips and put them back into the repaired vase. "So," Harry said, "I think tulips may be my new favorite flower."

"Mine, too," Draco replied with a smile.

And when they got married, two years later, there were tulips everywhere.

Day 15: Wings | Day 17: Salt

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #boys in love #true love conquers all #drarry #day 16 #thanks so much for the prompt anon #enjoy

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ackerfics · 3 years

Text

so this is love — annie leonhart

— annie leonhart x female reader

— request by anon: I kinda have a request. How about royal au? Where 2 kingdoms are at war with each other, and reader is the heir of the throne of one kingdom (but they’re not the spoiled type of heir, more like the solider one?) and then the kingdoms decided a truce. Reader will have to marry the heir of the other kingdom which is Annie. Idk maybe those arranged marriages that they never get along at first? Kinda like they were enemies bc they never get along until some development of feelings happen along the way. Maybe Annie will realize that she has feelings when reader got injured since they’re a soldier

— warnings: mentions of war, slight angst if you squint, just two idiots falling in love with each other :))

— summary: you were sent off to another kingdom as a sign of a truce, promising to yourself that the engagement is close to death at how you got off on the wrong foot with your betrothed. it was hell at first but who knows? maybe, unbeknownst to you, the two of you are a match made by the gods.

— word count: 7.5k

— author’s notes: i am so sorry this came out so long :((( we just finished our exams and we have a case study to write as our midterm for a subject. i hope this will still quench your annie fic cravings. and by the way, i fashioned the kingdom of idylle to mondstadt because genshin impact is my stress reliever right now and a kingdom built upon freedom sounds like a gem. plus, the glass castle of the reader is based off of the castle of cinderella, which is the reason for the title hhhhhh happy reading !!!

so this didn’t appear in the tags so i reposted it :”(((

Corsets were abominations that needed to be burned.

The girl with your features staring at you from the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize from all the preparations your chambermaid did on your figure. The make-up was appalling and thick that you could see a smear on the back of your hand when you tried rubbing your itching nose. Your hair was done in a half up-do with too many decorative pins sticking out, creating a makeshift crown of silver roses, one of the symbols of your kingdom. The dress your mother expected you in was straight-up ridiculous, you couldn’t move from the tightness of the corset and the heaviness of your skirts was hindering you from moving freely. You couldn’t even deny that it was a lovely gown but its inconvenience was irking you at the slightest turn or stretch.

Dressing up this lavishly was rare for you, the Crown Princess of the kingdom boring flags of silver and lilac. You very much preferred the heaviness of your armor and your title as one of your kingdom’s Commendatore rather than the ladylike image your mother has been forcing you on the past few weeks.

You were livid when your parents renounced from the ten-year war that was purging the continent with just a sign on a piece of paper — one that included your name and your honor. Everything was brutal, carnage dotting every town and village of the two kingdoms throwing spears and fire cannons, and you witnessed it all firsthand when you started being one of your kingdom’s soldiers four years ago — a sixteen-year-old girl throwing orders that gave you an advantage from your enemies wearing the crest of the kingdom that painted your lands a heart-wrenching red. Of all solutions that your parents and the other kingdom could come up with, it involved you in the most unacceptable way possible. Officially entering your twenties this year, your parents thought it necessary to offer you as a bride that signified peace to the warring nation right beyond the border. The idea made your vision red, an outburst coming out of your mouth mere seconds after the proposal was announced in the council meeting.

A soldier, a knight, a commander — that’s what you are.

Not some forsaken young woman ready to be shipped off to your rival nation because it was the only way out of this bloody mess.

You had no choice.

The only way for you to grasp the final moments in your kingdom was relishing the touches of the chambermaid and taking in the décor of your room — the small trinkets scattered on your nightstands, the books you escaped to, the jewelry that boasted the colors of your family, and the stuffed animals your nanny sewed for you when you were a toddler. You closed your eyes and let the feathery fingers of the people around you lull you into a prayer for the gods in their celestial thrones, asking for their blessing in this far travel. In the middle of reciting an ode dedicated to the goddess of divine bravery, you felt a cool pendant carefully slide over your collarbones.

Your mother’s face appeared beside the watery princess of the mirror, a forced smile pulling on the corners of her lips. Your distinctly colored irises flickered down on the necklace your mother placed upon the exposed parts of your body. It was a flower-pressed necklace, the gold plate carefully protecting the flower representing your birth. The golden chain holding the necklace together was so thin that you worried for a moment that the fragile piece of jewelry might break in less than an hour while you meet your partner-to-be. You met your mother’s gaze in the mirror — from a chivalrous princess of armor to a dignified queen ruling within a land of eternal spring.

“You look so beautiful,” your mother breathed your name, holding your arms tightly against her ring-adorned hands. Tears blossomed her eyes, trickling down her cheeks akin to the lavender flowers’ petals of the large white tree in your backyard. “You look like the queen you were supposed to be.”

You tried smiling but your wobbly lips made you falter. You can only purse your lips in a tight, flat smile as you face your mother, face set in a kind expression. “Please don’t cry, Mother,” you murmured, placing your palm on top of hers, squeezing it for reassurance. “They wouldn’t do anything to me.”

They, meaning the kingdom you were at war with, the nation that claimed they needed a bride for their Crown Heir. In your world, there was freedom even in marriage — with the kingdoms pairing their sons with the sons of their enemies all for the sake of a truce, especially if the two of them were firstborns. This is very much your situation at the moment. The kingdom of Idylle was a beautiful haven of songs dedicated to the god of the winds, very contrasting to their military power that could take down a good number of your soldiers. You heard stories from some villages in your nation that Idylle was a hoax, that they were bloodthirsty warmongers hungry for the spilled blood of the people of Glaieul, your kingdom. You couldn’t help but believe their words. That was the only addition to your knowledge of Idylle except for their battle tactics and placement of soldiers on the battlefield.

“We’ll pray to the deities that they will do just that,” your mother laughed a little despite the tears. “Or else your father will wage war if they so much scratched you.”

“He wouldn’t do that, Mother,” you shook your head with a slight smile. “You two have worked so hard for this peace treaty. If I ever scratched myself in Idyllic lands, trust me that it would most likely be my fault. Not theirs.”

Your mother’s laugh twinkled in the room, painting everything in a light that erased the heaviness shrouding in every corner of your chambers. “I suppose so. You and your love for your sword are unrivaled. I can still remember the time when you first got the weapon, you were so thrilled for a six-year-old that one would think you were born in the barracks. I have to admit, you looked adorable swinging your sword until the greeting of the night and its stars.” She wistfully sighed, looking down at the necklace she gave you. “Your father was so proud when you came back for dinner that night.”

“My sword has always been a lifelong companion. I will even bring it to their castle.”

Your mother placed a hand on top of her chest, over her heart. “I hope you don’t unsheathe it in front of their royal family.”

You breathed a laugh. “No promises.”

The two of you talk about all the things that happened in your childhood, your laughs echoing through the hallways. The maids and the butlers bade you goodbye and safe travels as you passed by, never forgetting to nod in their direction in acknowledgment. You will miss their company for they saw you grow up before you decided to partake in the war. Almost all of them fussed over the mess you made while practicing your swordplay, cleaning up the broken vases and the mud on the carpeted floors. Even one of the apprentices of the Keeper of Books residing in the palace, Armin, enthusiastically waved at you, his friends flanking him for a visit in the kitchens. You didn’t miss how Eren directed an incredulous stare towards the blonde man, with Mikasa looking shocked at how easily the apprentice interacted with you in a public setting since your times with them only happened behind prying eyes.

You gave the three of them a huge smile that gave their faces a pretty rose shade.

Upon reaching the foyer, your father stood at the foot of the stairs along with the soldiers you acquainted in your time on the battlefield, sending a wave of warmth through your chest. His silver coat lined with gold details was a beacon and his white breeches were tucked in a pair of knee-length boots. His chest was decorated with his sash full of medallions, the kingdom insignia of lilac gladioluses and silver roses pinned on top of his heart. The king of Glaieul softened his eyes, crinkles appearing at the corners, at the sight of you and your mother descending on the stairs.

“My little flower,” was his greeting to you when you reached him.

“Father,” you breathed, picking up your skirts to settle in the embrace of waiting arms. You buried your figure against him, inhaling his scent of pine and rosewater, creating the last memory you will have of him. The two of you pulled away for a moment, your eyes watering at the sad visage your father sported. You felt the lightest brush of his kiss on your forehead.

“Now I’m becoming reluctant in sending you off,” he told you. “I felt guilty when I saw you fight against this during the council meeting. But it is what they offered and I have no say in the matter.”

“I know.”

“May the eternal spring never waver in your soul.”

You nodded before taking a step back, bowing with your knees on the marble floors. Your crown glinted against the light from the stained-glass windows, your hair forming a curtain around your face as you replied, “I will let it fester among the ballads and idylls they will offer. I will carry the name of Glaieul with faithfulness, honor, and grace.” You raised your head to meet your father’s eyes. “I promise to never deter the eternal spring.”

It would be that way until your last years in that kingdom. And as you rode the carriage with the soldiers you fought with guarding the vehicle with their lives on the line, you could only sigh and offer another round of prayers that this swerves in a more positive direction than what you were expecting. After a hefty journey across the bustling capital (people stopped by and waved your carriage goodbye, offering you flowers that one of the captains of the fleet, Levi, scowled at — you coaxed him that it was alright, though) to the hectares of meadows in the countryside, the sight of flowers mixed with emerald turned into a sea of teal as you entered the outskirts of Idylle, your betrothed’s home. Everything was bathed with the endemic species of grass solely blessed by the god of the winds on Idylle — legends say that it was because He wanted the kingdom that worshipped him to look different than the rest. No matter how much you deny it, it was beautiful.

“How are you faring, princess?”

Your daze was interrupted by a baritone voice, deep enough to alert some of the men around the carriage. His gray eyes provided you support during the war. You couldn’t help but smile at the onyx-haired man riding by your right window. “Hello, Captain Levi.”

“Tch. Drop the title, brat. You and I both know that the war made us friends somewhat.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, Levi, to answer your question, I’m quite fine even though my parents just sold me to gain peace.”

Levi rose an eyebrow at the remark. “I am not one to have the capabilities to comfort someone but think of this as a way for you to help the kingdom without sacrificing your life for once. A nation without its heir is just like losing its king. I’ve seen you train when you’re starting as a squire and to the point when you got the position you deserve. This would be like a small walk in the gardens of your mother.” He fixated his stare on you, eyes dull yet determined to get his point across. “You have a role in every part of your life and this time, this is what the gods crafted for you. Do not fret, princess, you have more chances of being on the battlefield again.”

The words Levi spoke settled in you until you reached the capital of Idylle, a small island in the middle of a clear azure lake with walls resembling a huge castle. The bridge leading to the gates was lined with guards bearing the kingdom’s crest, all of them standing under the flapping flags bearing the symbol and colors of the royal family they serve — a harp surrounded by the colors of gold and blue. Their eyes warily followed the series of carriages, postures becoming stiff in the realization that the entourage holds the visitor their rivaling country sent. That was still the scenario when the series of carriages and horses passed by the marketplace, the vicinity on the lowest part of the walled capital, as if the wind even ceased to let the people gawk at the brightly-colored entourage making its way to the highest tier depicting mansions and the main plaza where their patron god stood tall and proud in front of the palace’s gates.

Everything looked magnificent.

It was a breath of fresh air from the glass castle you grew up in. Whereas your kingdom built a white, blinding home that withstood for hundreds of years, Idylle’s palace blended with the brick walls with its leveled mansard roofs and turrets. The gates were made of gold, welcoming you into a huge square of maze-like hedges, a fountain sitting in the middle of the labyrinth. Some gardeners stopped their daily chores to greet the carriages with a wave of their hat, seeing as you were going to be an addition to the royal family after the wedding in a few months. The steps leading to the main doors loomed in front of you with only a few servants waiting for you to step out of the carriage.

You took in a deep breath, nodding at Levi to open the door. When it swung open, you placed your hand on top of Levi’s as he guided you down the propped steps on the side of the carriage.

“Well,” Levi hummed from behind you, making you glance at him with a curious eye. “May the eternal spring never waver in your soul, Your Highness.” He bowed in front of you, only a dip of his head, a firm hand on his heart, and yet that was enough for you to reciprocate it with a kind smile.

“Safe travels back, Captain Levi. May the gods protect you.”

The servant boys standing on top of the stairs jumped an inch in the air, going down in fleeting steps to get your luggage when they realized they were staring too long at you. You smiled at them in gratitude before stepping inside the palace as the guards opened the huge, gilded double doors in front of you.

The inside was just elegant as the exterior appearance of the entire capital. Everything was bathed in gold that seemed to rival the Sun and it made you look away for a moment. The grand hall followed the kingdom’s colors, from the turquoise carpets leading towards two winding staircases to the golden ceilings decorated with paintings of cherubs and the story of how their god of the winds came to be. One of the servant boys slightly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your curiosity of the myths laid on the ceiling. You turned to him with raised eyebrows, spurring him to whisper a faint, “Follow us, Your Highness.” They led you through hallways hung with tapestries and paintings, drawing rooms where the queen hosted her tea parties (Levi would have loved it), and ballrooms that have the same aesthetic as the foyer. Finally, you stopped in front of one of the apartments in the palace, the servant boy who told you to follow them brightened at the guard stationed there.

“Reiner!”

You waited patiently and let your eyes roam across the hallway.

“Hello, Falco, Udo.” The man, Reiner, smiled at the young boys before turning to you. He placed a hand on his heart and bowed. “Welcome to Gale, the capital of Idylle, Your Highness.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” you replied, motioning for him that it was quite alright to straighten his posture. “The palace looks lovely.”

“Indeed, it is.” Reiner opened the doors of your room and once again bowed with an outstretched hand towards the room. “Here are your chambers and I will be your guard for the entirety of your stay here in the palace, Your Highness.” You muttered a faint ‘thank you’ as you entered a drawing room with a door to the private chambers on the left and the bathrooms to the right. There was a table fit for two people, armchairs, and drawers with vases on top. A huge floor-to-ceiling window illuminated the room, your feet carrying you there to open them, and letting the wind caress the curtains as they danced in the breeze. “If you ever need anything, you can call for my name and I will be here in an instant. Your chambermaid will be up here in a moment to help you prepare for the family dinner. For now, rest well, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Reiner, Falco, Udo,” you smiled, retreating towards the private chambers.

You let out a sigh and stared at nothing for a few moments. It came down to this. To think that you were in enemy lands and was treated so well without any degradation came as a shock to you. The people so far that radiated negativity at your arrival were the guards stationed at the bridge and some of the townsfolk and nobles parading in the streets. As you think about the servant boys and Reiner’s calmness in receiving you in the palace, you immediately thought that it would be better than you expected.

You took off your heels under your dress, mind racing that this wouldn’t be so bad, and plopped on top of your canopied bed, its baby blue curtains protecting you from unknown disturbances and drowning you in a rapid of dreams.

The dinner didn’t go so well as you expected.

You donned a more suitable dress for indoor use, something that doesn’t include forcing your figure in a tight corset and yet presentable enough to be shown in the family dinner. You even placed a circlet of silver flowers on your head to compensate for the dull dress you chose, the description fitting after one of the chambermaids expressed their perplexity at how simple regarding design your dress has. Your light blue skirts fanned out around you as you made your way to one of the grand dining rooms reserved for family use. The choice of the color of the dress should be enough to express that you are willing to be on good terms with the family of the person you will marry.

But your first meeting with Annie Leonhart was interestingly disappointing.

Before departing from your kingdom, you learned the royal family and even Idylle’s customs. You learned how they always valued freedom and expression above all else, compared to your home that valued their ties with the gods more than the idea of getting rid of the shackles placed by your deities. You learned how they have this festival dedicated to celebrating the love they share with their patron god and how it spanned for half a month.

Finally, you learned about the indifferent Crown Heir of Idylle, the young woman with the piercing blue oceanic eyes sitting in front of you at the dinner table. She was known for building up walls that discouraged some of her engagements with other royalties across the continent. She was so closed off that she didn’t even glance in your direction for one second. Her hair was done in an elaborate bun wrapping around her head in a braid, her small, thin diadem resting against her golden hair. Annie kept her gaze on her plate, even playing with her food mindlessly for a couple of minutes before sighing and taking a bite of the chicken the maids served. No conversation was exchanged and the dinner ultimately became one of the most awkward meals you had. The king even tried to engage his daughter for casual talk but Annie dismissed them with a hum.

The queen had to apologize to you several times after the dinner, with Annie huffing at the back and eager to get out of the room. Despite how much she was against this engagement, you still bowed at her before you retreated to your room.

Now dressed in your nightgown, you stared at the canopy of your bed, already missing your home the more you fixed your attention on the bundled-up curtains. You badly needed to hit a straw dummy with your sword to let out your frustrations. Of all the royalties present in your continent, why did it have to be you that was shipped to this measly forced marriage? There were still so many solutions that could lead to a peace treaty but why was this the only one the kings and queens could present to their courts? A sigh escaped your chest once again at the thought of actually getting to know Annie. You laid on your side, curling your legs towards your chest and prayed that the god of dreams will visit you sooner than expected.

A knock reverberated through your chambers, the sound making you sit up.

You went to the receiving room and opened the door. You kept the small hitch of your breath in your chest at the sight of Annie and her half-lidded eyes. There was no one in the hallways. You figured that she sent Reiner away for some privacy, meeting the blue irises you likened to brilliant sapphires.

“What brings you here, Your Highness?” you asked, opening the door wider.

“Annie.” She saw how your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Call me Annie, we’re betrothed after all.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Annie,” you tested her name softly, missing the way she inhaled too sharply at your voice.

Annie reciprocated the gesture by saying your name. The two of you stared at each other and it felt like an eternity before she looked away to focus on the receiving room behind you. She noticed how your eyes held kindness underneath the star-like shine even though she showed hostility during your first dinner with her family. Your hair was disheveled and it didn’t take her a minute to realize she might have woken you up from a good night’s rest. The journey from Glaieul to Idylle was a long one. You deserve all the rest you can get, “I apologize if I woke you up but I feel like I should do this before dragging it out.” You once again raised an eyebrow so she took out a leather box, opening it to reveal a ring with a holographic gem showing teal and pink in the middle. The Leonhart family ring. “Here.”

“Oh.”

You were gawking at the beautiful piece of jewelry, with Annie taking the matter in her own hands. She took the ring out of the box and pocketed the container. Her hand reached out to hold your palm against hers, sliding the ring in your ring finger. Your hand still hovered in front of you after Annie retracted hers to find their place by her side. She continued to eye your mesmerized visage with a half-lidded gaze, clearing her throat to catch your attention. You turned to her with a small apology for spacing out.

“It’s fine,” Annie waved off. “It’s yours starting today.” She turned away from you and went down the hallways but not before saying a “Good night, [Name].”

The entire week of your stay in Idylle was uneventful, to say the least.

Annie kept her distance from you after that night she gave you their family ring. It left you thinking that you should also gift her the [Last Name] ring your family treasured for centuries. The ring was placed in a small cushioned jewelry box that you opened and propped on one of your night tables. Your conscience was telling you to give it to her but there wasn’t exactly any moment alone with her let alone just passing by her in the hallways. The blonde princess made it her mission to never let your fates meet the more time you spent in the capital. You then decided that she probably didn’t want this engagement to happen.

But she gave you the ring. Wasn’t that a strong signal that Annie accepted you as her betrothed, unlike the others before you?

You shook that thought as you focused on giving consecutive hits on the dummy in front of you. Two days before, you proposed to the king to let you have a moment alone in the training grounds for about two hours or so to keep you in shape. He reluctantly agreed, but not without a side stare at the queen. They heard of your glorious feats during the war, how you managed to become one of the Commanders of a battalion of soldiers tasked with being in the frontlines and how you won constant ambushes against Idylle’s numbers. Two hours of training became three until here you are, still not stopping as you finished every single dummy in the private training grounds. With your day spent outside, you thought it would be nice to have a nice dip in the bathtub before dinner.

In your walk towards your chambers, you spotted Annie in one of the drawing rooms, sitting in the window seats with a book of war tactics in hand. You recognized the author as one of the revolutionaries mentioned to you by your tutor.

“That’s a nice book,” you couldn’t help but mention. Annie turned to you unfazed by your interruption though there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “The book mostly describes battle formations but I think the author likened it to every situation on the battlefield. For instance, the phalanx was native to the empire of Great Findara and it was great for preventing casualties until it was overpowered by the infantry tactic of the city nation of Khisfire where every man has a role and a weapon depending on their group. The latter was more on the long-range yet melee way of taking back the territory.”

Annie hummed. “Do royal tutors of Glaieul teach this to their students?”

“Oh, no. I learned it while taking on the role of a squire.”

She once again hummed. “It completely slipped my mind that you are one of the Commanders in your military. You were ruthless as the folks in the noble plaza say, blood tainting your hands from doing raids in the border villages of Idylle.” Her tone was like a jab to your side, like an arrow tearing through your skin. “I know it was a time of war and desperate times call for desperate measures but our people didn’t deserve to experience the massacres.”

“They were far from being massacres,” you gritted your teeth.

Annie scoffed. “Then what were they? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I can still remember the story two years ago of a young girl wearing her lilac cape in the bloodbath, eyes so dull that you can see your reflection on it. What’s to say that this engagement is a hoax plotted by your parents to assassinate my family for you to win a territory you greatly needed because of the resources?” She closed her book with too much force, bitterly spitting out the next words, “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree as the saying goes.”

“If you question my being here then why did you give me your family ring, Annie?” you asked, your body now facing the tense young woman by the window. You cursed at how the light made her look angelic like the girl the god of the winds sacrificed his life to before he ascended to the heavens. “This peace treaty is everything my family wanted even though hundreds of our soldiers died in vain for not meeting the ends of what they fought for. If you’re saying that my parents placed me in an undercover predicament to add to the weight of deaths on my shoulders, I suggest you tell your father to put a stop to our betrothal. Because I don’t even want to be here, Your Highness, and it would do me such a huge honor. I would rather spend my time out with my fellow soldiers than pretending I’m some dainty princess my family sheltered when in fact, I was anything but that.

“Have a good day and I hope you enjoy the rest of the book. Chapter ten was a personal favorite of mine,” you dismissed, turning towards the direction of the apartments.

Once you reached your door, Reiner straightened his posture, faltering for a second when he noticed the cross look on your face. He chose not to say anything as he opened the door for you. You took off your boots right beside one of the armchairs of the receiving room and immediately went inside your private chambers. The glint of the ring on your night table mocked you. You stomped over the furniture and forcefully closed the small jewelry box, throwing the container inside one of the drawers.

Maybe sleep will be much kinder to you, the sheets enveloping you in an embrace you wish your mother can only give in this time of need.

You were radiant under the harsh heat of the Sun.

Annie was scheduled to have a free slot in her timetable after being included in one of the court meetings regarding the resiliency plan of some of the villages in the borders that managed to survive the Glaieulian raids. She suggested that the villages should be moved to one of the more remote villages nearer the capital, where the terrain is suitable for growing crops and starting small farms. There wouldn’t be an issue with overpopulation because the recommended village was home to the elderly and children. The newly situated families will also aid the old people as they go about their mundane activities. It was a sound suggestion and her father was also considering it. Annie hoped that would be the case as she scribbled a small note on a piece of paper. After the meeting, she stopped by one of the windows overlooking the training grounds, and there you are.

Your small argument that happened a few days before stirred some guilt in Annie’s stomach.

You weren’t even part of the raids she was talking about. They were led by a commander by the name of Erwin Smith. The stories about you that she heard were from Idyllic soldiers that suffered a lot during the war, not from the people of the villages Erwin raided. Annie couldn’t deny it but she did step out of the line by accusing you of being an assassin. That was too far-fetched. She was just stuck in her suspicions when she was supposed to be getting to know you.

All she knew about you was that you were adept with a sword and can name any tactic written in books about wars.

Annie saw a maid cleaning one of the vases in the hallway. “Miranda.”

The maid turned around, curtsying in a haste before patting her uniform. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“Can you prepare a tray of iced apple juice and some cakes?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Annie nodded. “And can you place this note on the tray and deliver it to [Name]’s room?”

The maid was taken aback. “Well, it would be my pleasure, Princess.”

“Thank you.” With that, Annie walked away without a glance back.

Curious eyes followed the princess’ form, the maid finding herself looking at your figure sparring with Reiner and a smile instantly greeted her face. This could be a turning point in the betrothal because she could’ve sworn Annie had a small blush on her cheeks at the mention of the other princess.

After your training, a tray of sweets and a pitcher with glasses of apple juice awaited you in your receiving room. You wanted to ask Reiner if he asked some of the chambermaids to prepare the afternoon snack but a folded note caught your eye. With one hand gripping the towel around your shoulders, you read the note, your face warming up at the short yet endearing sentence.

Indulge in these, they taste better after a good training session.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, you thought as you munched on a sprinkled cookie.

Her eyes kept following a trail of gold tulle, silks, and laces, never looking away the moment her blue eyes laid themselves upon a beauty that rivaled the goddess of oneiric realms, the most ethereal goddess of the heavens. You were dressed in an off-shoulder gown with loose sleeves reaching your elbow, the bodice carefully wrapping around your torso in the most flattering way possible, and skirts adorned with silver gems. In a sea of aristocrats with fabulous dresses, you were a sight to behold in this ball dedicated to commemorate the truce between Glaieul and Idylle as well as announce the engagement between the two countries. You were starlight personified, shining in Annie’s eyes under the lights of tens of chandeliers in the ballroom.

You were on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with your friends from your home kingdom. There was a tall brunette that seemed to be star-struck because of you just like Annie, a black-haired young woman who was smiling slightly, and a blonde who was engaged in an animated conversation with you. Your smiles were refreshing, to say the least, Annie seeing it for the first time since you came to their palace. Your laughs are genuine and it came out of you so easily when in the company of your friends.

Annie visibly stiffened when you turned around and smiled at her, gesturing for her to come to join the small huddle. Your three friends tensed noticeably at her half-lidded stare, with you reassuring them that she’s not that indifferent all the time.

As if sensing Annie’s hesitance, Reiner chuckled behind her. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself to them, Your Highness.”

“I’m getting to that, Reiner.”

A laugh came from the blonde man. “She’s good for you. That much I can tell. The kindest soul I’ve ever met in my life.”

Again, guilt pooled in Annie’s chest. Those words are the opposite of what she spewed out to you the last time you talked. She called you a power-hungry monster who ravaged the war with no care on your shoulders. She didn’t even apologize yet. Annie sighed, “I know.” Then, she pulled up her skirts, navigated the ballroom, and stopped directly beside you. Her blue eyes scrutinized the three people you grew up with, with the brunette and black-haired woman stepping a small step forward to assert their dominance while the blonde pinched their backs to warn them not to step out of line in another kingdom. “Hello.” She transferred her eyes on you afterward, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back and rubbing it in a comforting motion. “I hope you enjoyed the ball so far.” Those words were directed to you.

You only nodded with a smile. “Annie, this is Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. They’re my friends when I was growing up in the glass castle.” Annie nodded. “Everyone, this is Annie, my fiancé.”

“We know,” Eren, the long-haired man in a low ponytail murmured with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Eren,” Armin reprimanded. He smiled at a stone-faced Annie. “Thank you for making [Name] happy! I can sense that she has a different air around her while we talked. It must be because of you.”

Annie stayed quiet, her hand coming into a still on the small of your back. It was a good thing her left hand was hidden away because they would immediately think that you didn’t accept the engagement. She glanced at the ring nestling in your finger, a perfect match against the golden train of your dress. Realizing that she created an awkward stretch of silence, Annie could only nod wordlessly before shifting her attention to you again. It seems like you’re the only one who can calm her nerves down inside the vast ballroom. She never took her gaze on you even as you continued the conversation between your friends.

Her mind was fogged with thoughts of only you throughout the ball.

The two of you excused yourself from the trio when Annie’s father called for everyone’s attention from the front of the huge chambers. “Everyone, kind souls and pure-hearted people of the continent, since tonight is all for enjoyment, the waltz of the ball will now commence.” His blue eyes went to his daughter, standing at the side of his throne. “The moment everyone is waiting for — the first waltz.”

She rehearsed this too many times for when a proper betrothal comes into play but why is her hand shaking when she outstretched it in front of you? You must have felt it because you flashed a comforting smile her way. The two of you went to the middle of the ballroom, the guests staring expectantly at the birth of a romance. They were wrong because you hate her and she hates you. Right? Her hatred for you will never waver for killing her people even though you look like a descended goddess with the lights of the chandeliers raining on you. Hatred must be fueling her heart to beat faster than ever, why she seemed to trip over her skirts and how her words stumbled in her tongue. That must be it.

The dance slowly made its way to the part where she struggled, dipping you as gracefully as she can. Before it happened, you whispered to her, “Please don’t make me fall.”

Annie’s voice was soft, for your ears only. “I promise, my princess.”

It truly was a birth of a romance, the two of you unaware of it all.

“Come on, Reiner!” You shouted at him from across the training field. “Come at me with all you’ve got.”

The blonde man hesitantly shifted into position as he eyed you. “Are you sure, princess? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He remembered the threatening look he received from Annie before this training session and he would like all of his limbs intact, thank you very much. “I just don’t want your chambermaid to nag me again after last time.” He managed a cut on your arm your previous session and you had to wear a long-sleeved dress in such stifling weather.

You scoffed lightheartedly. “I can handle it, Reiner. You don’t have to worry about it. Plus, I can dress my wounds perfectly.”

Reiner didn’t believe that. Your skills in covering up your wounds were lacking despite being a soldier. The most you could do was apply some salve on your bruises, that was it. He had no choice because the past month he spent his days with you, you were like a persistent little child that reminded him of his younger cousin. He hoped that you two wouldn’t meet. “Alright, here I go, Your Highness.”

Parry after parry could be heard in the private training field. You were doing fine in deflecting Reiner’s sword but your ankle immediately ached after shifting your body, leaning back to avoid the sharp edge of the knight’s weapon. You let out a huff as you dropped on the ground, jolting when Reiner called for you to stay alert. Seeing the glint of his sword, you rolled away and the pain on your ankle flared, even more, traveling through your calf. It also didn’t help that you received a cut on the side of your bandaged arm. You picked yourself up despite the throbbing pain on your ankle and arm, now being on the defensive as Reiner continuously struck you with his sword. He then circled his weapon around yours, throwing your sword on the side and pushing you to the ground with the tip of his weapon. That was the time where your ankle finally twisted into a sprain.

“Ah!”

“Princess?” Reiner’s tone became alarmed, dropping to your level and taking off your boots in an instant. His hands ghosted around your swollen ankle, not knowing what to do. “Gods, Annie’s going to kill me!”

“Annie?” You asked between pants. “What does this have to do with her?”

He only shook his head, carrying you in his arms and into the palace. His steps were hurried and the maids gasped at the sight of your red ankle. “Please prepare a bucket of ice and bring it to Princess [Name]’s private chambers.” He turned to you. “Hang on for a moment, Your Highness, we’re nearing your room. Just a little bit more.” Reiner entered your room and gently placed you on your bed. “I’m going to be taking off your other shoe, Your Highness.”

“Reiner, I think I’ll take it from here.”

Reiner stiffened, slowly turning his head to the entrance of your private chambers. Annie was impatiently standing with a bucket of ice in both hands, eyes glacially set on the blonde man kneeling on the floor in front of your confused form. She didn’t care if Reiner trembled in front of her. She vividly remembered telling the knight to never hurt you (she didn’t see the cut you had last training session because Annie was in another court meeting involving the incoming tax collection of various villages). Annie glanced at your ankle, barely grimacing at the state of it before gesturing for Reiner to get out of the room. The large blonde man took his leave, bowing at the two of your hastily and closing the doors with finality.

Annie mimicked Reiner’s position, kneeling in one knee to place your injured foot on her thigh. She didn’t wear any dresses for the day and it made her look dashing. The image implanted itself in your brain. Her hands are gentle against your skin, your cheeks flaring at the contact. Her features were contorted in a downturned one that showed how bothered she was.

“How did this happen?”

Your eyes settled on the top drawer of your nightstand. “I dodged Reiner’s blow and I twisted my ankle in the process.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Annie scoffed. “That’s clearly obvious.” She said nothing more while dipping your foot in the ice bath. She lifted her head too fast when you winced at the coldness of the water. “Deal with it. We wouldn’t want this to be worse than it already is.”

“Thanks for the concern,” you dryly mentioned.

“What makes you think that my being worried is all fake?” You’re silent, Annie choosing the moment to continue the words she didn’t have any control over. “When the maids prepared this bucket of ice in the kitchens, I was out of the council meeting. When I saw then bringing this up to your chambers, I was alarmed and my mind was a mess of thoughts concerning what happened to you.” At each word, her face held a multitude of emotions that you never saw on her. Her lips became pursed whilst you wordlessly stared at her. “I am not pretending to care for you. How could I pretend when I’m already feeling foreign emotions when it comes to you? It’s my first time feeling this way so I don’t know if I can categorize this as falling in love. But it feels like it. So, for the love of the gods, can’t you see that I’m rambling because of you?”

You didn’t reply, instead, you reached out to the drawer where you kept that ring.

“What are you doing? You should be still right now.”

You pulled out the jewelry box and flipped it open, showing the blonde the ring fashioned in a vine, the centerpiece being a group of small gladiolus flowers with diamonds in their centers.

Annie’s cheeks reddened, flustered at the pretty jewelry. “What?”

Words never came out of you as you took Annie’s left hand. The ring looked pretty on her, the two of you admiring it after you slid the engagement jewelry in her ring finger.

“I now accept you as my fiancé, my future lover, and holder of my heart. Annie Leonhart, may our eternal spring bloom for centuries, and may your god of the winds bless us with his idyllic ballads.” Annie’s eyes were wide and you can see your reflection on them, along with constellations that lit up her irises. You placed your forehead against hers, looking straight into her flushed face. “They were right, this is the birth of a romance.”

And as you two kissed for the first time, the gods were rejoicing in their thrones, each of your prayers answered — your love finally etched in a whimsical melody.

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