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wingedcat13 · 6 months

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Princess in a Tower

[Note: this one is *not* Synovus, or any particular prompt. First person, implications of violence and familial abuse, and a one-off for real I promise!]

They have not yet mopped up all the blood, when I enter the throne room.

It is not the first time I have seen the room itself, but it is the first time I’ve had a chance to inspect it. Earlier, it was still filled with the chaos of our siege; the screams of mortal men and metal against metal enough to distract from the pretty mosaics on the walls.

I ignore the remaining smears of viscera. The bodies have been removed, which is the most important bit. They will all be identified, and depending on how well the people they died to defend behave, may even see proper burials. Loyalty is a virtue, even when it is to the wrong people.

Of course, to the people bound and kneeling in this room, I am the wrong people.

As I stalk through them I hear whispers between the sharp footfalls of my sabaton’d boots. Some are muttered prayers, or incoherent cries. The rest are my names and monikers: Domine of the Northern Reach, the Wyvern-Wraith, Death-in-Red. Some get the title wrong, translating it into the local customs, and I am named both ‘Prince’ and ‘Princess’ in an air of confusion. My soldiers will correct them later.

By the time I reach the dais, only one person has been brave enough to utter my given name.

“Elith Frenaye.” Four syllables, but an infinite amount of venom. That’s to be expected. At least the pronunciation is correct.

“Archinard Holbrooke.” I greet the man who was King here only a few hours ago with quiet grace and decorum. As he has dropped my titles, I am under no obligation to grant him his - particularly not when the titles he would expect are no longer his to claim.

The now-former King of Kescil is shorter than I expected, even granting the fact that he’s on his knees. He’s doing his best to keep a straight back, and his chin up, balancing as though he still has to account for the weight of a crown he’s already been relieved of. At nearly sixty, he looks remarkably fit for both his age and status; most nobles are showing their excess by now in unpleasant ways.

Archinard is balding, but he’s taken to it with grace. He isn’t the most muscled man I’ve ever faced down, but he seems to still care for himself. Still has most of his teeth, from what I can see of his sneer. Good. It’s always pathetic to execute someone people can’t even recognize as a king without their robes and jewels.

Archinard also isn’t stupid - he knows that’s his fate. He raises his chin again, and the mental image of him doing that on the headsman’s block is all that keeps me from punching him when he demands, “What have you done with my wife and daughter?”

Steadfast. I remind myself, simply staring at him while I take the time to put myself in order. The fight is over, but my nerves will take days to settle properly. Steadfast. Sure. Serene.

“Nothing yet.” I answer, politely casual as I walk past Archinard. My cape swings into him as I pass, and I swear for a moment he wanted to bite it. Perfect. “Though pretending ignorance won’t help any of you here. Yes, yes, you managed to hide them away from me.”

I turn to face the crowd again, and settle myself into the throne. My voice is steady, unhurried, and unworried, as I add, “For now.”

I don’t clarify that I will find them, or make threats. I don’t need to. There’s a moment where none of the Kescilians even breathe, and saying more would only tarnish that moment of fear. Even Archinard has paled, though his bluster will return in a moment.

Only if he’s given the chance, though, and I don’t intend to grant him that mercy.

I lean back in the throne - my throne, now - and as plush as it is, the thing is damned uncomfortable. Maybe that’s part of why Archinard is the way he is. I’ll never ask. There’s more important things at hand.

“Archinard Holbrooke.” I repeat, and where before my voice was quiet and polite, now it is pitched to carry. I was not born to inherit this throne room, but I was born and raised to a crown. All of that training is evident in the seemingly effortless diction in my voice, a layer of fraying velvet over steel. “You are relieved of the duties of Monarch of Kescil. Your life has been remanded into my care. As I am merciful, I will grant you a choice.”

‘Merciful’ is stretching it, in this instance. The crowd likely expects me to give him a choice of how he’d like to die, or perhaps a chance to try and claim mercy for his Queen and the Princess.

“You may accept these changes with dignity, and retire as Ledan - Lord - Holbrooke, with a moderate compensation from your people, in recognition of your service. Or you may be executed as the last King of Kescil.”

The first offer is tempting, but this isn’t as much of a choice as it appears. Demoting the King to a noble may allow him to think he can reclaim his crown later, but it also opens him to punishment for years of mistreatment by his now-fellow nobles, who do not need to fear a crown’s reprisal. Compensating him from his own treasury makes him complicit, and the common folk won’t forget that he took the chance to run with the gold. Recognition of his service is a joke.

Whether it’s in a rebellion, at the hands of his own vassals, in a common folk mob, or by an assassin, I will see this man dead. It’s only a matter of how long he wants to live, and in what comfort, before the axe - metaphorical or literal - falls. Perhaps I am only offering him a choice of deaths.

“I am a King.” Archinard declares, “So I was ordained, and so I will die.”

The smile I give him in return is bloodless. “As you wish.”

—-

I do not execute Archinard immediately.

If conquest was my true reason for being in Kescil, I would have. My armor was still bloodstained, I had my sword, and the man was already bound and on his knees - it would have been incredibly simple to just end it then and there. But I have promised his death to another, if she wants it, and I will stand by that promise.

My excuse to the masses is that I want to make a ‘proper’ example of him. There are speculations that I want to execute the entire royal family at once, to ensure there are no mistakes, no accidental inheritances. Others think I’m torturing the man for fun behind closed doors.

I have a few retainers who know the truth of my purpose here in Kescil - I keep at least one of them with me, always, as a guard for both my body and my sanity. That first night, the four of us share a room, prepared to sleep in shifts in the parlor of a suite, all piled in the center of the floor.

“Better than camping.” Chirps Valentine, setting up his bedroll on the plush carpet.

“Worse than camping.” Counters Ames, who distrusts the textiles and would prefer a carpet of leaves to sleep on.

Ash doesn’t bother to chime in on that debate, just exchanges looks with me over their heads.

“It is camping.” I tell them both, shoving one end of a couch - there were four of them in this room, four. Not to mention the chairs and cushions and footstools and, ugh - further against the wall. If there were hidden passages, no one would be creeping in easily.

“You know,” Valentine muses from the floor, his head propped on his chin, “I can’t wait to hear the rumors after tonight. What about the rest of you? Fan favorites? Particular conspiracies?”

Ash folds her legs beneath her, and starts stripping off her gloves and boots. “That’s not fair to Elith.” She protests around a mouthful of leather as she struggles with a strap. No one tries to help her; we’ve all learned better. She’ll ask if she needs it. “Given she knows what’s supposed to be spreading.”

“Girl-Prince invades castle, hosts wild orgy in celebration.” Ames announces.

While I’m still wrinkling my nose at that, Valentine smacks Ames with a pillow, “It’s ‘Princess,’ you foghorn, not girl-Prince.”

Ames allows the blow to knock them flat, even though I’ve seen them take much worse without so much as a twitch. “I just repeat what I’ve heard.”

“There’s no way they’re already speculating about her sex life.” Ash disagrees, “We just got here.”

“People always speculate about my sex life.” I correct her wearily. “They call me girl-Prince as an insult, Ames, you know Kescil’s weird about these things. And I were to have a celebratory orgy, I would have invited far nicer company than you three.”

“Ah,” says Valentine, smug, “But would they have accepted? Or would you have been dropping trou with just us-“

“Thank you, Ash.” I say mildly, over the sounds of Valentine being smothered.

“We’ll find her, Elith.” Ames tells me, suddenly serious. The other two stop as well. “You know we will.”

The sudden focus of their attention is more than I can bear right now, even benevolent as it is. I exhale slowly. Steadfast. Sure. Serene.

I manage a smile. “I know we will.”

None of them stop me as I roll my shoulders, checking the fit of my armor is still right. I haven’t taken it off yet, though we did clean the worst of the day’s stains off of it earlier - the rest won’t come out without sanding the chain and plate, and that takes longer than I want to be without it, right now.

“I think I’d like to see more of my new castle.” I remark, purposefully light. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

Ash moves to start replacing her boots and gauntlets, and Ames opens their mouth, but it’s Valentine who’s quickest to his feet.

“I’ll go with you.” He says, cutting off the other two’s chance to claim escort duty. If I let them, they’d still come along, but four people in the halls will have everyone still in the castle up and trying to spy. I’m not certain Valentine and I will avoid that outcome either, but at least we have a better chance.

We walk the halls of the Royal residence, avoiding one particular room. It turns out to be a quiet night.

I don’t sleep at all.

—-

They find the Queen on day three.

We’re taking an early meal in the banquet hall when word comes, carried by a page who’s had to learn the castle’s floorplan faster than anyone else. She skids into the hall, nearly flipping over a bench that’s been left askew by its last inhabitants. When she spots me, she all but climbs over the tables to get to me.

Ames, my companion for the next few hours, is halfway out of their seat with a bread knife before I recognize the page, and settle them with a hand. Even then, they don’t sit, but scan the crowd behind the page, in case she’s being chased.

“Domine!” The page pants, almost throwing herself flat at my feet. “Ser Thorrun sent me, an urgent message. Immediately there and back with a reply, Domine, he seemed sure you’d send one.”

“Peace.” I tell the page, holding out my hand for the message. My food is forgotten - Thorrun is the one in charge of sweeping the castle for any hideaways who are still here. I have four others, each tasked with a different cardinal direction, leading searches in the areas around the castle for those who fled. So far, those searches have only turned up a few servants, and the odd nobleman.

While I read Thorrun’s note, I pass the page a goblet of water. It’s brief -

Q in Weave, A+U.

Rather than send a reply, I rise. The page spills half her water down her front, and looks up at me, gasping. Ames pats her on the back.

“Take me to the Weaver’s quarters, please.” I say. I can only hope it comes across as calm.

—-

A castle goes through a truly preposterous amount of linens. Back home, the weavers and the seamstresses share a compound building, but have separate work spaces they’re free to use as they wish. It leads to arguments and lost items of clothing on occasion, but the Textiline - like a housekeeper, but head of weavers, sewers, spinners, and launderers in the Royal employ - has never complained.

I would be ashamed to show them this place.

Part of it is our fault, yes - hanging curtains are a good place to hide someone with a sword if your opponent is in a hurry, or a moron who doesn’t know to look for boots. The simplest way to avoid that is to prod them with your sword as you pass by, and that leaves a lot of holes. A lot of baskets overturned to ensure no one is crammed inside one.

But there are no windows here, meaning the whole room is lit only by candles, leaving the entire room stuffy and reeking of tallow and lye. The weaver and the seamstress must sit back to back if they hope to have any room at all. There are all sorts of cabinets around, yes, but the doors can’t all be opened at once, and it must be a headache to get anything sorted in here.

But part of the reason for that is evidently because some of these compartments have layers. And behind a second layer rack where garments can be hung, there is another false back, and there is where they found the no-longer-Queen of Kescil.

By the time I arrive, Ser Thorrun has cleared the workers from the area, and has the woman bound, sitting on the weavers’ bench.

“Tabithica.” I greet her flatly. She looks offended to hear her given name. She cannot reply, given the gag. “I presume she still has her tongue.”

The last is directed towards Ser Thorrun, a wiry man who has crammed himself into a corner to give me the space I am due. He glares at Tabithica.

“Wasn’t mine to take.” He grumbles, one hand on his sword hilt. There’s no room to really swing in here, let alone draw, but I appreciate the gesture. And that his other hand is where he can reach a knife.

“So it isn’t.” I agree coolly. A quiet request, denied. This woman is not mine to kill either, but I am holding the privilege for the one who does have that honor.

Thorrun just nods, and takes the hand off his sword hilt to point out where Tabithica was hiding. “I’ve been having some boys pace out the corridors and rooms.” He explained. “Dimensions didn’t add up. None of the mortar looked fresh, so figured there was a hidden something or other back here. Found it.”

I step forward to inspect the place that has been a Royal bolt hole for the past three days. It is rank with ammonia - evidently she did not have anyone to empty the chamber pot, even if they did bring her food. There is a bed, and a quilt, and no one else here.

I knew that. Thorrun would’ve searched the room already, would’ve told me if there were signs of her. But I could not help but look.

“Wait in the corridor.” I tell Thorrun tonelessly. He manages to kneel in the small space, bowing his head to me. He asks no questions.

When Thorrun has left, and Ames has entered in his place - the wrinkle of their nose is brief, and shows they share my opinion of the place - I straddle the end of the bench Tabithica is sitting on.

For a moment, I simply stare at her.

Will she be more likely to give me answers if she thinks I won’t understand them? If I’ve threatened her? Or, like her husband, will she want to gloat and bluster and threaten me in turn?

Something about the gleam in her eyes reminds me of iron.

I reach up one hand, and she remains still rather than flinch away. Her breath quickens a fraction, but she keeps her eyes on me, not my hand. Not fearing or cowering from a blow. Pride? Stubbornness?

The gag comes loose with a simple gesture, and I let it fall as it will, sitting back again to examine this woman who once was Queen.

For a moment, we sit in silence. I will break it eventually, if I must, but for now I am content to study her, as she is studying me in return.

She takes the offensive: “Fighting over scraps now, are you?”

It’s a reference to how my parents had referred to Kescil - a kingdom of scraps, not worth the taking. Economically, they were right. Kescil was never going to have the forces necessary to pose a threat, but they also didn’t have anything our people needed or even wanted. So for years, we let them be, and simply didn’t care whether they lived or died.

“I do not need a reason.” I say softly, and as far as she knows, it’s true. I’ve certainly seemed to kill for less. But an answer like that is still to put myself on the back foot, even with a backhanded threat woven in.

Tabithica bares her teeth, “Thorns and horses, Domine.”

My title is spat with derision, but it is the words that are the insult. Ames stirs behind me, showing the anger that I cannot.

When I was yet young, my father went riding. This was not unusual. He forged through a thicket. This was not unusual. Shortly thereafter, his horse shuddered, and died. And the unhorsed consort found himself set upon by bandits shortly thereafter.

That part was unusual.

Investigations had determined the thicket had been doused in poison it did not naturally produce. Had he taken any scratch from a thorn himself, he would have met the same fate as his horse. Instead, it was a bandit’s dagger that took his life. But the thorns are still what killed him - had the horse lived, he could have outrun them easily.

It’s unlikely the event was arranged by Kescil, but I can’t fault Tabithica for trying to take credit.

“I’m not going to kill you.” I tell her calmly.

She laughs, a thoroughly unhappy sound. “Not yet?”

“No.” I seem to agree. She expects me to threaten her with torture and fates worse than death. “I haven’t killed Archinard yet either.”

I could’ve kept that bit of information from her, but I want to know instead.

There isn’t even a flicker of relief. If anything, Tabithica seems annoyed. Interesting.

“So be it.” She sighs, “I suppose he’s gone and committed us both to dying anyway, then.”

“Where is Galatea?”

Stupid of me, really. But I don’t have time to play games with this woman - I don’t care for or about her, or her husband, and only tangentially about her country. I could’ve tried to come around to it another way, but that would’ve taken time and effort I wasn’t willing to spend on a gamble.

Tabithica looks taken aback for a moment. Her head cocks slightly, considering. Then her expression becomes decidedly vindictive. “Dead.”

Ames stiffens. I do not react.

“That’s a shame.” I inform her, as though I’ve been told the last of a wine vintage has been consumed. “As she is the only one who may bargain for your release.”

Tabithica raises her chin, but I ignore her. Instead, I rise, turning to Ames, and putting my back to the fallen royal.

“Toss the room. Ensure there are no more hidden doors.”

“And her?” Ames asks quietly.

I look over my shoulder, and think again of how small this space is, how lightless, and airless. I meet Tabithica’s gaze.

“Put her back.”

—-

On the fifth day, my inner circle is restless.

We, all of us, know exactly how long a human can survive in depravation, and we are reaching the limits of what an ill-prepared hiding place would provide the missing Princess. With provisions, she could likely last quite some time, but…

None of us have faith that such a hiding place was arranged.

I have stalked the rows of the dead thrice, made a point of speaking to every survivor and servant. My searchers have been cautioned to not be blinded by assumptions of gender, of hair color or cut.

Thorrun’s men have paced out the entirety of the castle. They’ve found a few other hidden holes, but no one within them - living, anyway, one did contain a skeleton from either some long ago siege or murder - and there are fewer and fewer places to look. Younger, agile folk have taken to exploring the rooftops. Every barrel in the storage rooms has been opened, even those that have spoiled fermenting wine or beer.

And I am unspeakably proud of her.

—-

On the seventh day, I finally enter the Princess’s quarters myself.

They’re at the top of the eastern tower, windows facing the dawn. Its light cuts through in thin stripes, divided by the protective bars and slats that prevent any enterprising climber from coming in. Or any desperate princess from throwing herself out.

The stairs are narrow and winding. The walls are only now taking on a hint of dust after a week without tending. There is a dumbwaiter, built into the middle of the tower, but it is at the base level, and empty besides.

I have been avoiding this place. I came through it once, during the initial siege, hoping to find her here - and when we found it empty instead, I’d restricted all access to it. I could say it felt intrusive to walk through her bedroom, to search through her things for clues as to where she might have gone.

But in truth, it makes me furious to see this prison.

Every step feels like a purposeful insult. Every sign of care taken with the carpets and cleaning is another reminder that she must never have been alone. The light of the dawn rising every day to tell her she was still here, could go nowhere else, couldn’t even sleep in-

Enough. There will be recompense.

But the watch heard noises here an hour ago, and that means someone has broken my edict. Possibly, it is a bird that got past the bars, but if it is a person, I’ll at least have a target for my increasingly frantic rage. Because I have not found her. I promised I would. I will.

So yes, my steps grow heavier at the top of the stairs. I am somewhat distracted, scowling, when I open the door and stride into the room.

I pay for my distraction immediately.

The rugs are decorative, lavish, and layered across the stone floor atop the rushes. One of them had been moved, and I had not noticed until it was yanked out from under my feet. My stride is long enough, and I had been moving quickly enough, to avoid being sent back down the stairwell, but even still I lost my footing.

The fall stole my breath. The collision of my head with the floor briefly stole my sight. But I could still feel it when hands grabbed at my legs, pulling the knife from my boot and climbing up my body until its blade could be pressed to my chin.

“Move and I’ll carve out your heart.”

It was a growl more than a sentence. Sounds forced through gritted teeth. My vision was returning, blurry yet, and I could not discern one feature from another. Instinctively, my hand had risen to catch the wrist of the knifehand, and by that grace alone I still had a throat capable of speech.

“My heart is claimed.” I rasped in reply. There was clattering, a shout, from lower down the stairwell - someone must have heard my fall. “The neck you’ve earned, if you’re quick.”

Another growl of frustration - my captor did not wish to be caught, it seemed - and the weight on my chest was briefly removed. I flung myself to the side before it could come back down, knife point first.

Twisting away, I blinked the last of the blurriness from my eyes, and came up on my knees. I found myself looking down at my attacker, who was still sprawled on the rugs she’d used to force me down. Long hair in a messy, ratted braid, a dress with wide skirts that hung oddly, the fear and fury in her voice -

The determination in the wild swing she took for my legs, torquing to move, dragging her legs behind her.

“My heart is claimed by a girl of stone.” I gasp, barely avoiding the knife’s edge. “I’ve come to bring her a fine carriage.”

The woman stops, panting from exertion. When was the last time she ate? Truly slept?

She wavers for several long heartbeats, not dropping the knife. Her voice is watery when she corrects me, “the finest carriage, you idiot. I told you the passphrase was too long.”

—-

I insist on making sure Gal eats and has a chance to bathe before we talk. She insists we speak before she’ll sleep.

Arranged in her wheeled chair, she looks like a portrait half-come to life. The skirts of her dress are tailor made to hide the atrophied legs, to lay nicely in the chair’s confines. Her spine is straight, hands folded, and she does not fidget. She looks more regal than either of her parents ever will, wherever they’ve gotten off to. I’ve stopped caring.

(Ames and Ash are on guard duty, while Valentine runs the word that the Princess has been found. My orders were the inverse, but they decided it was better to have two on guard - this would be the time to kill me, after all.)

“You should’ve told me it was you.” Gal scolds me, picking off a piece of bread to throw at me.

“Like you told me you were the Princess of Kescil?” I retort, blinking involuntarily as it nearly finds its mark.

Gal turns up her nose. “I had to be sure you did not covet my title.”

“And I to be sure you did not wish to trap me.” I reply dryly. There is no sting in my words, though, no true animosity. Nor in hers.

The situation is far from ideal, and I am very aware that I am, in essence at this moment, her captor. But the reality of it all has faded away, because she is here. My Gal is safe.

Maybe my friends were wise to leave two on guard.

She drops the offended act, instead staring at the tablecloth. Her expression turns drawn, and tired. I’m on the verge of trying to convince her to sleep again when she asks,

“How many are dead?”

The thought of lying to her is barely a flicker - I can’t. “Seven hundred and twelve.” I say quietly. “Excluding pending executions, and those who may yet die from their wounds.”

She looks up at me, “And how many of those were your soldiers?”

“Two hundred and five.”

Her gaze drifts away from me, and she is quiet for a moment longer. This time, I leave her to it.

“I killed them.” She says flatly.

“No. I am the one who declared war.”

“Because of me.”

“It was hardly something you asked for.”

“But I am the root cause, am I not?” She glares at me, her tone challenging even as her shoulders start to curl inwards.

“Absolutely not.” My voice is firm. I’ve taken my share of blame for deaths before, and I will consider the two hundred soldiers who died under my command my burden to bear - but the dead of Kescil are not on her head. “If you insist on a root cause, it is the King and Queen who failed Kescil - in ordering their people to fight, in not ensuring they were adequately trained and armed, and-“ my voice gentles, “-in failing their daughter.”

“I put the pen to paper.” She says quietly.

“And I swung the sword. As did they.”

I know it isn’t enough. She’ll wonder how many of their men went to fight in the name of their Golden Princess - the delicate beauty they were taught to treasure and protect. She may never be free of the memories of constant haranguing, that she was helpless and failing her family and nation for faults that were not her own, and the substitutions her mind will make about how she was, in the end, the downfall of her country.

But Galatea Holbrooke was not theirs to keep.

“Well.” She says, after a few more heartbeats of silence. Her voice is brittle at first, but smooths out just as she smooths the tablecloth. “Then I suppose we should discuss terms, Domine Hawk.”

The addition of my title to the pen name I used to write her - chosen after one of my hunting hawks nearly took down her messenger pigeon - is a needling I quite deserve.

“Whatever you desire, Galatea of Kescil.”

She raises her brows at that, “Such trust, Domine. What if I desire your title instead?”

I smile, leaning forward on the table, and for once, I don’t clink. My armor has finally been doffed, and sent for a good proper scrubbing. “Then that can be arranged, though you’ll have to be more specific. I have several.”

“And if I want them all?” She’s leaned forward too, her eyes narrowing.

“In the traditions of the Northern Reach,” I say carefully, suddenly unable to look her in the eyes, “I cannot bequeath my titles to another, nor can they be taken from me by anyone but my Liege. But… they can be shared. With a spouse.”

When I glance back at Galatea again, she’s wrinkled her nose. My hands flex, curling inward as my stomach sinks.

“You just had to go and beat me to it.” She complains, slumping back into her chair. “Six months - six! - to get you to tell me your hair color, but sure, propose within the first three hours we meet in person.”

She groans dramatically, pressing a hand over her eyes, as I slowly straighten. “That’s - not quite an answer.” I hedge, “though I understand if you wish time to consider, of course, circumstances -“

“Circumstances!” Gal snorts, giving up the last of her propriety. “My bird, you cannot possibly have earned your titles by being this shy.”

But there’s a laugh in her voice, and when she uncovers her face, I can see a sparkle in her eyes.

“Do you know what I thought, when I was hiding from your soldiers, not knowing it was you and that I was safe the entire time?”

“About that-“ We still didn’t know how she’d been hidden.

“Oh.” She waved a hand, “There’s a closed off landing about halfway down the shaft, there’s still a ledge inside just large enough for me to fit. I climbed down and back up again.”

Gal shrugs, as though she hasn’t just told me she’s done that with only the strength of her arms, and alone.

“I thought it was a shame I couldn’t even live long enough to tell you to your face that grey is spelled with an e, not an a.”

“It can be either-“ I start, before cutting myself off with a sigh. We’d been over the topic at length before, in previous letters. I’d cut a page out of a dictionary to include it and nearly been banned from my own library.

Gal just tilts her head, and waits. Her hair is loose now, mostly. She’s mentioned wanting to cut it before - I can’t wait to see how short she’ll choose to go.

“It was much less complicated, when I was simply your Hawk.” I admit quietly.

“And when I was a simple village Gal? Neither of us were exactly spy material, you know. Where would I have learned to read as a village child? Where would you have found paper and books as a hunter’s child?”

I can’t help but laugh, “Some things we just wanted to believe. But there is a difference, between a noble and the heir to a country. I promised you my help when you thought I had little more than a bow and a hunting bird - and I meant it.”

She sighs, “And I just wanted you to know who I was, before I disappeared.”

Her final letter to me had been written in haste, explaining that she could no longer lead me on, and that all contact between us had to end. She’d signed it with her full name - the first she’d ever used it. When word came that the King of Kescil had decided on a suitor for his daughter, I understood.

But then, from Gal’s letters, I knew a lot more about the King than I suspected most of his subjects had.

“I knew who you were, Gal.” I assure her, and watch her eyes widen before she catches my meaning. “I just didn’t know your full name.”

“As I knew you.” She agrees, “Enough to know you’d be foolish enough to show up if I asked you to.”

“It seemed… prudent.” I say, tracing a pattern on the tablecloth. “And if you want, I will leave. I can’t bring back your army, but I can leave a contingent of soldiers-“

“Elith.” She says, exasperated, and the sound of her voice saying my name freezes me in place. “You promised me the world, little bird. Did you mean that too?”

“I did.”

“Then I do.”

“…what?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll marry you, Death-in-Red, Wraith-Wyrven, and whatever else it is you call yourself. Because my heart was claimed by a hunting bird, and I’ll not let it fly away.”

Her half of the phrase to identify ourselves to each other, if we ever did meet.

“After all.” She says, picking at her bread again, “You did fight a war for me.”

—-

[Thank you for reading! If you’ve enjoyed, consider checking out my other writing, both here on tumblr and on Ao3! You’ll find links in my pinned post on my blog, if I haven’t come back to update them here.]

#original work #Elith Frenaye #Galatea Holbrooke #This is a one off for funsies #I don’t remember how long ago I started it but it’s been in progress for a WHILE #oh the tag says November 2022 #ONE YEAR LATER

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mia-ugly · 2 months

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You were just a dog. I know this. I promise I know this.

And still - during the hardest and loneliest time of my whole life, you didn’t let me turn into dust. You got me up and got me outside and we put one foot in front of the other, over and over again, until somehow three years had gone by. Until loneliness was just background noise, like ships calling to each other on the river. Like gravel under my boots. One foot in front of the other, until we found ducks, or a whole rotten onion, or something dead, or somewhere new and bright and green.

You were just a dog, and still - there is a weight on my chest where you used to sleep. It's so much heavier than you were, a crushing weight, not a warm one, not a weight with a beating heart. But you, beloved goblin, taught me how life tugs us forward by the wrist. So with this weight on my chest, I will get up and get outside and put one foot in front of the other until this pain turns into background noise and all that’s left is love. Maybe I will even find a new green place. I will be holding you with me when I get there.

You were just a dog but you were a good dog.

You were my good dog.

#one year later #pour one out for Banjo #the best that ever did it

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blue-tailed-artist · 4 months

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One year later and I'm still drawing them, my first ever rise drawing exactly a year ago.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the tmnt #rottmnt leo #leonardo rottmnt #rise leo #rottmnt donnie #rise donnie #rise mikey #rise raph #merry christmas #one year later

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jusvn · 1 year

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a dollop of milk and seven sugars

#one year later #i'm late for the anniversary :(#ofmd #our flag means death #fanart #art

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l4p1z---d · 2 months

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Redraw of my old ghost king danny drawing i did a year ago

#danny phantom #art #digital art #fanart #danny fenton #dp #ghost king danny phantom #ghost king au #ghost king danny #redraw #one year later

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videokilledtheradiohost · 6 months

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Is there, like, a support group or something for people who just listened to One Year Later for the first time? Because I've been crying over it for like 24 straight hours

#wtnv podcast #nightvale #night vale #wtnv #welcome to night vale #episode 25 #one year later #this podcast is ruining my life

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triplesilverstar · 2 months

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One year

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: mentioned smut, sharing a bed, retrospective

Word count: 1.9K

A/N: Well it’s been one year since I started this series. If you told me a year ago when I first posted affirmation while drunk that it would prompt me to still be writing a year later I would have never believed you. So thank you to everyone that has been with me through this journey be it from the beginning or last week, every comment, every kudo, and well honestly every hit on the series has made my day. I still have a long way to go and thankfully the chaos is still brewing in my brain for these silly characters.

Laying there in bed as the low noises of the town rumbled in through the window that was opened a crack, it was the middle of the night and there were still a few souls out roaming around.

You were passed out for your part.

Tucked up against Vash who was wide awake watching you on his side. That hadn't been his plan. No his plan of turning in early and enjoying a long night of sensual touches and intercourse followed by falling asleep in each other's embrace. You’d hit three out of the four points. After the two of you had cleaned up the mess you made, you had slipped into slumber almost instantly, and Vash.

Well, the blond was finding sleep rather elusive. It reminded him of the nights before you had come along when he barely slept, tossing and turning with his nights plagued by memories and nightmares that made him dread the thought of slumber.

Those memories reminded him of other times as well as his flesh hand glided along your side after brushing a tuff of hair from across your forehead. It's been one year since the events in the crashed spaceship.

One year since you had learned what he was.

One year since he had been certain you were going to freak out and leave him.

One year since you told him you loved him.

He'd never been so happy to be so wrong.

You'd come into his life like a wild tomas, he never knew if you were going to throw him or sit on him. Chuckling to himself at the memory of waking up hog tied to a Tomas and you scowling down at him telling him to stop squirming so much. The first meeting at Jenoera Rock had been far better, he'd seen the ghost of the smile on your face with the look in your eyes telling him you knew far more than you let on sitting at the bar looking every bit the drifter he now knew you to be.

You were something else and thoughts of you faded away when he didn't see you after that brief meeting in the bar. Just another wander.

He thought it would be the end of your meetings after he tied you up and left you in the desert with your Tomas, wondering if you really were truly that bad with directions. Shaking his head at the memory as you shifted in your sleep drawing closer to his body.

You surprised him the second time. He was used to having to weasel his way out of conflicts in town by talking to a group or just running away. Sure people had gotten the drop on him lots of times in the past, but no one had literally gotten the drop on him. It had been refreshing to have someone to banter with as the two of you had your short tussle even if he couldn't remember the words to save his life. He did remember that he apologized for the way he left you and how it made his throat tight at the time.

“You really could get lost anywhere couldn't you.” Smiling as he whispered the words thinking of you leading him to the front of the bank instead of the sheriff's office. It had been after that little showdown with other bandits he found you more interesting than he first thought. Laying down on one of the rooftops as you paced around the building looking for him and speaking to anyone that had been nearby asking if they had seen him. While he couldn't see your expressions that well from the distance he could see from the way you moved about the space that you were putting the puzzle of how he escaped together. You were clever. So as you moved on he felt the briefest flicker in his chest as he wondered what your next interaction would be.

Over the next few months, he found himself growing worried. He hadn't seen or heard anything about you and the concern was gnawing at his gut. What if those bandits had escaped and followed through on the threats they had made against you? Were you buried in some shallow grave in the desert? Left as food for the worms? So he let the local kids bully him into playing with them, not that it took much convincing but he needed the distraction. Something to take his mind off of you because deep down he knew his concern wouldn't make a difference if you were gone. Another person he failed.

Only for you to land right in his lap during that firefight in the bar with the bandits that wanted that little girl to ransom back to her father on behalf of the dirty sheriff. He didn't know why you were there, just that his heart started thundering in his chest like mad and a blush started burning on his cheeks. Praying to every being he had ever heard of that you wouldn't notice the tightness he was starting to feel in his pants at the close contact.

As the the two of you talked about the situation he felt those brief flutters of his heartstrings die as you stated how five was better odds than against seven. His assumption about you being just like another bounty hunter rearing itself once more, only to be turned on an axis when you fired back a response about them learning from their mistakes, and for a brief moment he thought he could see Rem behind you.

You truly were full of surprises as you bantered with him back and forth and he watched the way your eyes crinkled as you thought and came up with a plan both of you could pull off. Vash really had thought thinking back you had him that time, only to see the mistake when you handed him off to your guide. They made the same mistake you had and he used his prosthetic to slip away once more and left you another note.

The gap between seeing you next was a lot smaller, watching you roll into town before he slipped away back into the restaurant. Watching you through the tiniest gap in the panel of that wall between the kitchen and dining area that the family had made for him a long time ago. The comment about his cooking had his stomach doing a funny little dance while he tried to keep his face neutral, even if it hadn't been said to him directly.

Looking back at those times Vash could see that in hindsight, there was a pull to you that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Leaning against his fist as you let out a soft snore when his fingers placed just a bit more pressure along your side. At the time he pretended it was an idle curiosity because of how different you were from other bounty hunters, and as the quick draw competition was quickly revealing itself to be a showdown between the two of you he had wanted to test you. Unaware that part of that test on his part had been to see if you were as clever as you let on, to see if the three days you had been in town had been enough to make you realize the owner of the restaurant needed help and what you would do.

On the surface, he told himself it was just to see if you were different like he thought, but now looking back he had to wonder if even then he wasn't starting to feel some sort of comrade with you. You were far more than just another bounty hunter and he knew that.

That night he did remember one thing clear in his mind. It was a lot harder to slip away than it should have been. Well and he needed to stop using the alias John. P. Smith if he wanted to avoid you. Chuckling to himself, that had been a brief interlude before the two of them started traveling as friends. Well, sort of. He was certainly ready to call you a friend while you kept trying to give him the slip with the tables turned.

Another sweep of his fingers through your hair as Vash stared at your sleeping face, he'd thought he’d almost lost you three times now. Two of them were far more serious and both had resulted in him taking you to see a doctor, one against your wishes and the other while you were unconscious. He understood your reasons for your dislike now and respected to it an extent. He would never tell you he was willing to face all the ire you could throw at him if it meant keeping you alive.

The ghost of his feelings that first time he almost lost you still made him sweat. It had surprised him. Taken him fully unaware when you disappeared from his sight in that decrepit building as parts began to fall away from the explosion that had rocked it down to its foundations.

A blind panic.

He should have taken the chance to run, but like so many times before his body moved before he knew what he was doing. His boots thundered over the unstable space and slid on his stomach to the gap above where he had last seen you. The way his heart was hammering he could feel his blood pumping through his vein with elation as his metal hand wrapped around your wrist. Seeing the strain on your face as you had tried to hold on with just the strength of your fingers.

It struck him then. He wanted to know you as more than the bounty hunter who was after him, he wanted to get to know the person under the gruff exterior that was the closest anyone had come in years to catching him.

Looking back he knew that was the moment when those first few flickers of affectioned started to smolder in his chest. An affection that grew with time that he didn’t regret.

A groan from you as you crack one of your eyes open when his hand brushes too close to your ear. “Vash?” Your voice is heavy with slumber as you peer up at him as if confused. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Truth ringing in the air before he smirked. “Too lost in the gem that came into my life, Mayfly.”

“I’m gonna hit you for that cheesy line later Sunshine.” Adjusting your body so you could run your hand along the edge of his chest. “Any reason you can’t sleep?”

Smiling down at you as Vash hears the concern lacing your voice for him, probably worried he was having nightmares again. “Just thinking of what’s important. Like how we’ve been together for a year.”

A slow blink as he watched a gentle smile grow on your face before your palm rested against his cheek. “A full year? Feels like yesterday when I told you I thought I loved you. I guess it’s true what they say.”

“Oh?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” A yawn from you before curling more into his body. “And you are oh so fun my Sunshine.”

Blushing a shade to match his coat it’s his turn to groan. “You’re ridiculous Mayfly. Good thing I love ridiculous.” Vash doesn’t fall asleep as quickly as you do again, but he does eventually follow you off to dreamland.

Back to Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp #vash x reader #vash x you #one year later

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melly-mello · 3 months

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First art of January last year (2023) compared to first art of this year (2024) :)

(I’ll be posting a recap of the last few months of 2023 soon! :))

#art #doodles #incredibox #one year later #self improvement #art improvement #incredibox fanart

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chaoscallsdummies · 8 months

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2023 vs. 2022 improvement sketch for fire kitty friday

#blazethecat #sth #my art #one year later #blaze #fire kitty #mono line ink art makes me go hurrrrhhhh #Sonic idw 63 #she’s on vacation #I’d torch through cities and ruins too #spagonia especially #cc's sketchbook

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maniacwatchestheworld · 3 months

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So I was just rewatching Linkara's Cassandra Cain retrospective and I just learned that in the year after Infinite Crisis where Batman and co left Gotham, and where Bruce left (a healed and sane) Harvey to protect Gotham in his place that Cass had also come back to Gotham to fight crime too!

... And just... DAMMIT! Now I just want a story in which Harvey and Cass become buds as the two of them work together to protect the people of Gotham from crime! It could be genuinely interesting! Like... Cass absolutely kicking Harvey's ass before he's able to explain that Batman left him to take care of Gotham in his absence. I imagine that Cass would have a very hard time trusting Harvey... But that his body language reads as entirely different from when she had encountered him before and she has a hard time trying to figure out what that means. Just... The two of them learning to trust and rely on one another. And then when Cass gets kidnapped... Harvey is devastated and tries his very best to find her to no avail... Just... DAMMIT! There's story potential here and I WANT it now!

#batman #dc #cassandra cain #harvey dent #two-face #two face #batgirl #cassandra wayne #cass cain #black bat #52 #one year later #fic ideas #fanfiction ideas #fanfic ideas

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lana7779 · 17 days

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April 2024 marks the one year anniversary since I started drawing, and back then, semi realism seemed like an unattainable goal, yet it remained one of the few main goals on this journey. I wasn't sure how to get there, but sheer will power, determination and copious amounts of love for this man (and of course the unwavering support of everyone around me!!!!) are the reasons I got here somehow!

So with that, allow me to show my first ever doodle that I drew specifically to compare my very first drawing, with whatever I could come up with a year later.

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brienneoftarth1989 · 8 months

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Yes Captain the Final Chapter! NSFW

Captain Phasma x fem reader

Previous / Series

Summary: You and Phasma have officially been together a year. Everything was perfect and nothing was going to change that.

Warnings: dom/sub kink, cunnilingus, fingering, grinding, begging, teasing, daddy, fluff and comfort

Authors note: I just want to thank everyone who has enjoyed reading this series. I have loved writing every chapter. I have a lot more works to come including some more series. If you want more Phasma content fee free to send in requests!

Requests open

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- One year later -

“Babe you’re finally home!” you screamed as Phasma walked through the door. “Oh my god I’ve missed you so much! I can’t believe I haven’t seen you for three weeks” she said as she dropped her stuff on the floor and ran over to you to embrace you in a hug.

Phasma has been out on a mission for the last three and a bit weeks and neither of you thought you could handle it. For the last year the two of you have been inseparable and to go from seeing each other every day to not seeing one another for three weeks was going to be near impossible. But the two of you handled it.

“You made it back just in time for our one year anniversary as well” you smiled as you pulled back from the hug that was lasting a lifetime. “I know and speaking of that we are going to spend the whole day having a chill day but first I am going to make you breakfast. What do you fancy having?” Phasma asked you.

“Mmm can we have avocado on bagels?” you asked as if she was going to say no to you. “Of course baby. Anything for my girl” she smiled as she made her way to the kitchen to start prepping breakfast. You sat at the table and watched as Phasma put your breakfast together.

As you sat there the two of you talked about what you had both been up to. Phasma told you about everything that happened on her three week trip. There was a lot of action and she seemed to have a brilliant time. Your three weeks weren’t quite as exciting but you told her what you had been up to as well.

You had spent the last three weeks fixing a range of different aircrafts but you have also had a promotion in that time frame and Phasma was so happy and excited for you. It wasn’t long until Phasma had finished making breakfast and was dishing it up onto plates. “Here you go baby” she said as you placed the food in front of you.

She then sat down opposite you and started to tuck into her breakfast. “Mmm this is amazing if I don’t say so myself” she laughed as she finished her mouthful of food. “Of course you would praise yourself for your breakfast making skills” you laughed before having a mouthful of food. “...but I do have to say this is amazing” you laughed with a mouthful of food.

The two of you finished eating breakfast before you took the plates into the kitchen to wash up. It was only fair that you washed up considering Phasma was kind enough to make you both breakfast in the first place. Phasma couldn’t help but hold your waist and hug you from behind as you washed up. She slowly kissed your neck and you couldn’t help but melt into her touch.

“Come on baby, we have plenty of time for that later. I really want to have that chill day with you. What were you thinking of doing anyway?” you asked as you put the last of the washing up on the drainer. “Well I was thinking maybe we have a movie day considering the day we started dating you were having a movie day” she laughed ever so slightly.

It was so sweet that she remembered that day. “Yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea. Let's start with a few movies and then we can watch our series together” you smiled. “Ok you sort the bedroom out and set the tv up while I go and sort out a range of snacks for us to have” she smiled before you ran into the bedroom while Phasma stayed in the kitchen.

Once you got into the bedroom you turned on the electric candles you had while closing the curtains. It didn’t make that much difference considering you were space but it just made things a bit more homey. You then got a load of your blankets and pillows and set them up the way you both liked it. The bed looked nice and cosy and you couldn’t wait to get in it.

You had a look at a range of films before putting them in a queue so they would play one after the other. You decided to go with The Maze Runner series, The Giver, The Divergent series and The Hunger Games series. If you had time then you would put on your series called From which the two of you said you would watch when Phasma returned.

While you were sorting out the movie options Phasma was in the kitchen dishing up a range of snacks for the two of you to munch on throughout the day. Phasma decided to go with a couple bowls of popcorn, a plate of nachos, chocolate chip cookies, chocolate covered pretzels, and a selection of sweets. She also decided on a bottle of coke for the two of you to share.

She looked at the selection in front of her that she had spread across the countertop pleased with her selection choices. “Hey babe can you help me bring these snacks in” she shouted as she grabbed some bowls and started heading to the bedroom. “Coming” you responded as you made your way into the kitchen.

“Babe, how much food did you get ready?” you laughed looking at the large selection of food in front of you. “Hey don’t judge me. We have all day to eat this so we will get through this” she laughed as you walked past one another. “You do have a point” you laughed as you grabbed some bowls and followed Phasma to the bedroom.

You both finished bringing the food into the bedroom before you closed the bedroom door and turned the main light off. You snuggled up to Phasma as she pressed play on the first movie in the queue. When Phasma saw the movies in the queue she couldn’t help but smile. You did have a great choice in movies.

The two of you spent a majority of the day watching movies, eating snacks and just enjoying one another’s company. At some point you ended up falling asleep in Phasma’s arms. All Phasma could do was just admire you in her arms. She loved every minute of this and she didn’t want it to end.

Then a brilliant idea hit Phasma. She slowly wriggled herself from your side trying her best not to wake you. She then made her way down to the kitchen to start making your favourite dessert. She knew that the two of you had plenty of food to be snacking on so you wouldn't have a full course meal so decided to just go with dessert.

So she started making Kinder Beuno cookies. They were your guilty pleasure especially when they were freshly baked with a side of vanilla ice cream. Phasma tried her hardest to keep quiet while making the cookie trying not to wake you but it was the smell that caused you to stir.

You looked around to see the first Hunger Games films playing. You then looked to see that Phasma was no longer laying in bed with you and then the smell of cookies hit you. You smiled knowing that Phasma was making your favourite kind of dessert.

You slowly walked over to Phasma who had her back to you as she was finishing up making the cookies. You slowly wrapped your arms around Phasma. “Hey baby, what are you doing?” you smiled as you nuzzled your head on her shoulder. “Well I was making you some cookies and ice cream. I was thinking that we could have these with our movies as I know a full course meal is out of the question” she laughed ever so slightly.

“Are they almost done?” you asked desperately to find out what the answer will be. “Yep, just come out of the oven. They need to cool down a little bit before I serve them with ice cream. “Well I was thinking while they cool down me and you could have some fun” you smirked as you hands wrapped around to unbutton Phasma trousers.

“Mmm that sounds like a good idea baby” she smirked as she grabbed your hand and led you back to the bedroom. The two of you cleared the bed of all your snacks. The last thing the two of you needed was to be rolling in a variety of food. You knew however that it wouldn’t stop you from pleasuring one another.

Once the bed had been cleared of everything Phasma grabbed you by the waist and threw you onto the bed. You gasped at the sudden strength that overtook Phasma. “I know you like it rough baby. I remember how I treated you the first time we slept together” she smirked as she leaned down hovering over you before giving you a deep and passionate kiss on the lips.

Phasma placed her knee between your leg allowing yourself to grind ever so slightly against her knee. You continued to kiss Phasma as you let your hips buck into her knee. The two of you eventually pulled away for air. “Mmm do you like that” Phasma moaned ever so slightly as she continued to press her knee into your core.

“Yes baby. Please I want you to fuck me like you did the first time” you moaned as you continued to grind against. “Are you sure baby?” Phasma asked, a bit confused. “Yes daddy! Please fuck me! I need you!” you moaned. It was you calling her daddy that set her over the edge.

Phasma started stripping you of your clothing chucking item after item on the floor. It wasn’t long before you were completely naked and Phasma was fully clothed. “Hey this isn’t fair!” you whined. “Don’t worry daddy is going to lose her clothes” she smirked as she stood up and removed all her clothing.

All you could do was sit back and enjoy the site in front of you. Once Phasma’s clothes had joined yours on the floor Phasma climbed back on the bed and on top of you. She placed a gentle kiss on your lips before pulling back slightly. “You ready to be dominated baby?” she smirked down at you waiting for you permission,

“Yes baby! Now please I need you!” you moaned as you grabbed Phasma pulling her closer to your body. Phasma kissed your lips before starting to suck on your neck leaving a number of red marks behind. She always knew how to turn you on. “You like that don’t you baby” she moaned in between kisses. “Yes daddy! I need your touch baby” you moaned out.

“Oh don’t worry baby! I will make sure you feel my touch everywhere” she moaned before starting to trail her kisses down your body. She massaged your breasts as she continued to leave a number of hickies on each breast.

You couldn’t help but to arch your back when you felt her latch onto your nipples. “Mmmm fuck daddy” you moaned loudly. All Phasma could do was smirk as she watched you squirm under her touch. When she believed that your breasts had had enough attention she continued on her path down to your aching core.

She gently placed a kiss on your small patch of curls on your mound. She let her hands travel to each leg before pushing them apart slightly so she could get a good look at your aching core. “Fuck baby! You’re dripping wet for me” she moaned as she let her finger slide up and down your folds gathering your juices on her finger.

You watched as she then placed her finger in her mouth and sucked it clean “and you taste amazing too baby” she smirked before going straight to eating out your pussy. You let out a deep moan at the touch of Phasma which only seemed to spur Phasma on even more.

She continued to use her tongue to trace patterns on your clit before finally sucking on the hard bundle of nerves. She continued to switch between tracing circles and sucking on your clit which made you buck your hips in pleasure and spread your legs even further to give Phasma better access to your aching cunt. You were getting close and Phasma could tell as your breaths were getting deeper and your moans getting louder.

“You going to cum for daddy?” Phasma said briefly before going back to paying attention to your throbbing clit. “Can I come daddy? Please, I'm so desperate for you. I want you to lick up all my cum daddy” you moaned throwing your head back as Phasma continued to torture your clit. “Cum for daddy baby girl” she moaned.

Upon hearing this you felt yourself cumming within an instance. “Fuck daddy I’m cu..cumming” you pratically screamed. Phasma helped you ride out your high before eventually just leaving little kitten licks on your clit which sent bolts of pleasure throughout your body.

“Hands and knees now” Phasma said sitting up allowing you to get in the desired position she wanted you in. “Pick and number between one and four” Phasma simply stated once you were in the position she wanted you in. “Three” you said randomly. Upon hearing that Phasma sucked on the desired amount of fingers before slowly entering into your tight pussy.

“Fuck your so wet for daddy” she moaned into your ear as she leaned over your back wrapping her arms around your waist. You waited for her to move inside you but she didn’t. “Please daddy” you moaned out hoping Phasma understood what you wanted. Of course she knew but she wanted to hear you beg. “What do you say?” she asked. “Please daddy fuck me with your fingers” you moaned trying to move your hips slightly.

Thankfully Phasma didn’t notice that action of yours as she thrusted her fingers deep inside your pussy which caused you to scream at the sudden fullness in your pussy. Fuck she felt good you thought to yourself. Phasma eventually found a pace that seemed to get you to the edge quite quickly. “I n.need to c.cum” you moaned as you felt Phasma’s other hand make its way down to your clit and start rubbing small circles on it.

“Cum for daddy baby girl. I want you to cum over and over again for me” she moaned as she thrusted her fingers deeper and played with your clit and that's just what you did. You came not once, not twice but four more times. You were exhausted and overly sensitive. Phasma finally pulled out which resulted in you letting out a small whimper at the loss of contact but instantly moaned as you watched her suck your cum off her fingers.

“Now it’s my turn to make you feel good baby” you moaned as you flipped your positions. You were topping the one and only Phasma and you couldn’t wait to make her feel the same way you did. You repeat the same action to Phasma leaving a trail of kisses focusing on her perfect breasts before slowly making your way to her throbbing cunt.

“Please baby girl! Make daddy cum” she moaned. It didn’t take much convincing before you found yourself exactly where you wanted to be. You teased her throbbing clit as you leaned into Phasma’s cunt licking up and down her folds. Phasma started to buck her hips against your mouth so you finally decided to enter a finger into her pussy.

You entered another finger into Phasma as you picked up your pace. “Mmm daddy is so wet for her little slut” you moaned into her pussy as you continued to fuck her at a brutal pace. “Yes, all for you my slut. Now fuck daddy like the King I am” she moaned as she started to grind into your hand. You teased her clit as you continued to fuck her with your fingers slowly adding another one deep inside her.

It wasn’t long until you started to feel her walls start to flutter and her moans filled the room. “Fuck, daddy is going to cum! Don’t stop, right there! Fuck I’m cumming” she screamed as you watched the orgasm take over her body. You slowly removed your fingers from her dripping core, placing them in your mouth as you tasted her cum.

You moaned at the taste but you wanted more. You needed to cum again. You positioned yourself so your legs intertwined with one another. You aligned your throbbing cunts together before you started grinding down on one another. You gazed into Phasma’s eyes as the two of you grinded on one another.

The whole experience was so intimate. You watched as pleasure was taking over her body. You were both so sensitive that you knew it wouldn’t be long until your orgasms would be taking over. As your orgasms got closer and closer the speed and intensity picked up. “Cum with baby” you moaned as you watched Phasma get closer and closer.

“Fuck baby i’m going to cum!” Phasma near enough screamed as you watched her orgasm take over her body. That was all it took to send you over the edge. You both rode out your highs before you eventually slowed down and came to a stop. You collapsed down next to Phasma. The two of you could quite easily keep fucking for hours and hours but you just wanted to enjoy Phasma’s company.

You laid down next to Phasma wrapping your arms around her naked body. Phasma pulled you close before wrapping you both in a blanket and pressing play on one of the movies. At this point you didn’t really care about the movie. You just wanted to spend the rest of the evening enjoying her company.

“I love you baby” you smiled as you snuggled up close to her. “I love you too” she smiled as she gave you a reassuring squeeze. You laid there in her arms thinking about this last year a bit. How you went from having a couple of one night stands, to hating each other to then being madly in love with this woman.

If you could have told your past self that you would now be laying in bed with the same woman celebrating your one year anniversary together you would have told your future self that she was talking utter bullshit.

Now the only thing you think about is what the future is going to hold for the two of you? Would you get married? Would you have kids? You didn’t care as long as you were with Phasma as you knew that she was your soulmate and she is the person you are supposed to be spending the rest of your life with.

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