#powered by that nightgown and library scene

[thesmokingguns]

Library Meetings

word count: 1860

rating: PG-13 some very small implications of smut but nothing serious

A/N: never wrote for this fandom before but became very obsessed with The Darkling and needed to purge some of the manic energy from my mind.

The nightmares plagued you since you were young. The Fold, the darkness and terror. Your mothers screams and your fathers attempts to save you. The swirl of darkness around you as the creatures danced through the air in a practiced killing performance. You had run, a small inconsequential thing until light bathed you again. But the few moments you had been in there had changed everything for you. 

“Aleksander.” you sat up, calling for him. His name on your lips as you touched them to remind yourself to silence yourself. You shouldn’t make a scene but it was hard at night, when everything was dark to keep yourself quiet. Calling out for the General out of all people was also something you didn’t want the others to hear you do in the Little Palace. 

You rose from the bed, reaching for your robe and wrapping it around yourself. The thin nightgown covered by the cream colored robe you wore. The light colors calmed you, gave you a sense of light in all the darkness that you feared. Creeping from your bedroom, bare feet on the stone as you moved towards the library.

You’d go to the library and feel safe there. You knew that being in the . 

You had first met him there, having been naive and not realizing that you were entering the general's private space. It was light there and you craved the softness of it, especially after wandering the hallways as you tried to avoid sleep. Picking through books as he watched you from the shadows, waiting far too long before he talked to you. Thinking about the night, it was only a couple weeks ago, made your stomach knot as you followed along the same path.

The night where he had talked to you, smiled at you in a way you hadn’t expected. He talked to you like you were a person, pulling your life story from  you and all the nightmares you had. He was surprised at how you had asked about him and when you had touched his hand, laying your fingers over his in comfort you knew he had been surprised at how good it felt. 

It had started more. Little things like he would see you in your training and come over to correct you, tell you what to do. Any excuse for him to touch you, you realized. And you started wandering into his library, watching him look up from his book as he pretended that he hadn’t realized you were coming in but always making sure to make you feel welcome here.. 

And then you had walked in after a nightmare and it had changed everything.

When you had come to him, shaking and terrified he had held you as you cried. The fear you had in you was so raw that it had shocked General Kirigan for the sheer power of it. Amazed that such a creature could hold so much hurt. But he had calmed you down, made you drink a hot drink and settled you on his lap as he read to you. Watching you as you slept without worry for the first time.  

The next morning you woke up first, blushing as you realized you were on his lap in the library. The general was asleep under you, arms wrapped around you as you felt the strength in his guard that he never let down. Your fingers had a mind of their own, pushing some of his dark hair from his face, thumb tracing over his lips.His eyes fluttered open, shocked that you were watching him and smiling 

“Aren’t you afraid that I could bite?” he teased you but you shook  your head, a knot in your belly as his eyes furrowed, seeing that there was something on your mind, “What is it little darling. What’s on your mind?” Your tongue touched your top lip as you felt the flush of embarrassment passing through you. 

“I want to kiss you.” You admitted, afraid to lie to him. “May I kiss you, General Kirigan?” you asked, his dark eyes on you as he tried to gauge what you were thinking. Usually your mind went wild and he could see the race of thoughts in your eyes.

“Only if you call me Aleksander.” His hand was cupping your face now, looking at you as you nodded your head at him in agreement with his terms. 

“Aleksander.”  And you had kissed him, tasting the surprise at how you were pressing against him, lips firmly planted as you tasted your future in his mouth. He had held you against him until there was a knock on the door and he realized what was going on. 

He had gotten up, moving to block you as he went to see what was needed from him. You were so embarrassed that you had taken the hidden stairs he had shown you before, coming out in another hall and staying away from him in fear of embarrassing yourself by asking to be kissed again.

You had kissed him two mornings ago and had been too ashamed to go back, feeling foolish and stupid for having a crush on him. You weren’t a high ranking grisha and were new to the little palace, who did you think you were making moves at such a powerful person? And the General had been called away for something so you were safe in traveling to his library now. You could have the sense of him being there without having to run into him.

The door was open and a few candles stayed lit because the servants had habits they kept up, even when he wasn’t around. Your eyes scanned the room, thankful you were alone. Your eyes closed, breathing in and touching your lips as you smiled. You could smell him here and just sensing a part of him made the nerves from your bad dreams start to fade away.

His cloak was thrown over a chair and you were surprised a servant hadn’t cleared it away. Moving to the couch you grabbed a book, looking around and pulling it over you, face rubbing against the fabric and sighing out as you felt like he was wrapped around you. If you closed your eyes just for a second you could sleep for just a few minutes and wake up before breakfast to sneak back to your rooms.

You pulled the cloak around you, tighter as you snuggled up, letting your eyes close and drifting off to sleep.

General Kirian had returned in the middle of the night, he had been expecting  to see Y/N but being in a rather sour mood when he saw that Y/N was not there. After the kiss he had expected things to all fall into place. He had given you his name after all and thought you understood how personal that was and how he was opening himself up for you. But instead you had skirted away, hidden yourself right before he was called away. 

He exited his room, having just changed into his nightclothes, not like he was going to get much sleep,  and froze as he poured himself a glass of wine. Curled up on the couch was his little darling. He smiled as he saw you had taken his cloak, tucking yourself in and making herself comfortable in the space and he loved seeing that you had sought this place out for comfort, disappointed he had stepped away for a moment to change instead of being able to greet you.

He sipped his wine, watching you sleep for a second before crossing over, bending down where you were sleeping and stroking your face. He watched the way your eyes opened, taking him in with that pretty face shocked. But he kept stroking your face as you stared at him, not sure what to say. 

“Do you want to come to bed with me, my little darling? It’s much more comfortable than the couch.” Your eyes widened at his proposal and you looked down, suddenly very embarrassed that you had come here. 

If you went to bed with him you’d be no better than a concubine at best. The way people would view you would be different. It wouldn’t be what you wanted. But if you turned down the general it could damage your standing with the grisha. He was lifting your head, tilting your chin up to look at him as his face was serious now.

“You’re overthinking.” his fingers were so soft as he touched your face, His eyes looking down at your lips as his fingers slid over them, his tongue wetting his own in memory of what it was like to kiss you. “I just want you in bed to chase away nightmares. Yours and mine. To sleep, my little darling, unless you want something else?” he was teasing you, trying to lighten the mood but you were sitting up, his cloak calling off you as well as his hands as you stood up, 

The nerves in your stomach hurt as you paced the room, tugging at your fingers as you chewed your lip, not sure of what to do but knowing you were acting like an idiot and at the realization you stopped, looking at him as he watched you, amused at how in  your head you were getting and waiting for you to over share, like you had been doing. 

“I don’t want to be your whore.” his mouth opened at that, rising as he walked over to you, his hands on each side of your arms as he rubbed down the material of your robe until he had your wrists in his hand. He was so smooth with how he moved, his larger hands sliding until they weaved between yours and bringing them up to his lips, kissing them as he looked down and over them into your eyes. 

“My sweet little darling. I would never ask that of you. I want you as my partner.” you were quiet at his words and he loved seeing the way you looked caught off guard, “Wasn’t it you asking to kiss me the other day? And now I can’t even get you to lay in my bed to help you chase away your nightmares?” he stroked your face as you finally took a breath.

“You really want me?” His heart strings were pulled. Too many people had overlooked you, didn’t see what he saw in you. How special  you were. But he would never let that happen again. He wouldn’t let a day go by without making you feel all the love he had for you.

“Yes, very much so.” he was smirking at you, waiting for you as you trembled and he knew that you would say yes to him now. 

“Aleksander, I’m ready for bed now.” He smiled as he kissed your knuckles, pulling you to the bedroom. He’d take his time with you. Let you sleep tonight and in the morning. He smiled to himself, in the morning you both would be well rested and ready to take it slow.

#The Darkling #Shadow and Bone #General Kirigan #General kirigan fanfic #general kirigan fan fic #the darkling fanfic #the darkling fan fic #the darkling fan fiction #Shadow and Bone fanfic #Shadow and Bone fan fiction

[fantasy-on-parchment]

Fic idea: Jacks couldn't stand Luc (Vampire mode) and Eva interacting. Jealousy to the nth level brewing.

AH I love writing jealous!Jacks, this is going to be soooo good.

I couldn't really tell if you meant the scene where they're conversing in the book or for me to come up with another... so I sat and thought for a minute and really wanted to write about a scene that I could see happening in The Ballad of Never After. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for your ask! <3

Summary: On a night when she can't sleep, Evangeline decides to take a trip to the Hall's library to see if she can find any information about the Valors and the Arch. However, on the way she bumps into a mysterious man with... with the most... beautiful eyes...

warnings: none.

PS: PLEASE READ> I'm kind of twisting the vampires' powers here because I felt like a lot was left out of Broken Heart, or at least I have some theories about how they might be used in Never After. It's essentially the same thing, just a little more emphasized. Kinda like love curse, vampires can glamour humans with their eyes to do certain things. HOWEVER, this glamour can be broken by looking into the eyes of your true love.

Ain't no one about to tell me this isn't Evangeline.

No matter how she tossed and turned, sleep was not happening tonight, not for Evangeline. It wasn't to say she wasn't exhausted, because a full day of arguing with the Prince of Hearts would be enough to send anyone into hibernation. She'd braided her long, pink locks into two loose braids and put on her most comfortable nightgown.

But the room was hot, and her body just wasn't as tired as her mind.

She sat up slowly, pushing the covers back and letting her skin cool down. She figured she should put this newfound time to use. In all this time, trying to find out more about the Valory Arch, she hadn't thought to do any research in Wolf Hall's library. To be fair, that's probably the first place she should have gone, and maybe would have been if she didn't have an obnoxious Fate pulling her here and there.

The hall at night seemed scary to Evangeline, given how big of a place this was. But she'd endured far worse, so what was a little darkness?

One step out the door, and a voice shot through her head.

What are you doing?

She paused outside her door. It had to be past midnight.

I could ask you the same thing, don't you need your beauty rest?

Yes, taunt him, Evangeline, she thought, that'll do wonders. But she couldn't help it, never with him.

Fates don't really need sleep.

I know, I was referring strictly to you.

She heard a chuckle in her mind, but it felt so close. Like lips drifting up her neck, fingers sliding her hair out of the way so he could whisper in her ear.

Where are you going?

Nowhere you need to be concerned with.

She didn’t want him coming with her, she told herself, her body might not be tired but her mind yearned for sleep. Even if he always made her feel a little bit better, nothing was going to happen to her with him around.

But it wasn't genuine. He wanted her for the prophecy, nothing else. He couldn't join her tonight because she needed to do her own research without him twisted her thoughts.

You might as well tell me, Little Fox, lest you're looking for a chase.

She didn't respond. Why would he chase her at this hour? He didn't even know where she was going, if she went quick enough...

She heard a door creak open down the hall, and she took it as queue to scurry down a nearby corridor and quickly to the staircase. The library would be on the bottom floor, and her bedroom was on the third. Wolf Hall was designed for the most difficult escapes, meaning that the stairs to one floor were directly opposite the stairs to the next. Evangeline needed to cross the entire Hall in order to find her way to the first floor, and then halfway across again to get to the library.

Well, hopefully the trip would at least ware her down a little.

She'd made it halfway across the second-floor ballroom when she heard footsteps approaching.

Seriously, turn around.

She hoped some sense would come to him, that he might leave her alone for the night. But when the footsteps continued, she felt the irritation building in her chest.

I'm nowhere near you.

She turned quickly, "Listen--"

Little Fox?

The response in her head didn't matter, Evangeline barely even heard it as her eyes found two shimmering brown orbs. She swore they glowed, like little masterpieces with gold flecks painted in.

"Hello, Darling..." Luc stepped further out of the shadows. He'd grown since the last time she'd seen him, grown into a real vampire. He wore a simple black tunic that hugged his arms in a way that had Evangeline's heart wondering back to those hidden nights when they were just children.

Little Fox? Why aren't you responding?

"Luc..." she found herself whispering. Before, she had thought she couldn't feel anything for him anymore, after the crypt and what she had shared with Jacks. But now... oh my.

Evangeline, seriously--

The voice cut off in her head. Not that she hadn't heard it, as if something had interrupted it. She didn't have time to think as Luc stepped forward, his cold fingers feeling invasive on her neck as they brushed her hair behind her ear.

"It's been so long," his eyes roved over her, her trance only allowed herself to nod, "you're as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you..." her voice came out velvety smooth, her chest rising quicker, her knees feeling heavy.

He stepped closer, still, his knuckles moving over her cheek as his eyes drop to her collarbone. "I waited for you, you know? That morning, after that bastard chased you away from me..."

bastard.

Jacks... Jacks was a bastard, an asshole, a complete mess but... but she didn't like Luc saying it for some reason. Especially about the night that Jacks used all his self-control to keep her safe, something Luc couldn't do...

She took a step back, but he followed.

"Woah, woah, woah..." His fingers lifted her jaw, and she became entranced in his eyes once again. "I let you go once; you think I'm going to do that again?"

Numbly, she shook her head. He was so close, overwhelming her senses.

"Now," he leaned into her ear, his breath made her throat feel tight, "why don't you go to your room and wait for me?"

Still numb, Evangeline stepped around him, with her room the only thought in her mind. On some level, somewhere, this didn't feel right, but her feet kept moving anyways. Her heart felt like a drum against her ribs, insisted, disruptive until Luc's footsteps were gone.

And she was suddenly pulled behind an arch. A cold, secure hand around her waist pulled her back to a solid chest. She fought against it.

My room, my room.

The arm only tightened; this time accompanied by a brush of lips against her ear: "Must I constantly remind you who you belong to?"

With a yelp, she was turned with her back against the wall, caged in my two pale arms and the stern expression of the Prince of Hearts. Evangeline didn't meet his eyes, instead she looked longingly to the staircase.

The cold air pressed in on her as his chest brushed hers, "I've told you; you still owe me. Until I decide, you're mine." His voice is drowning in anger.

Evangeline pushes at his arm, a whimper escaping, "Have to meet him in my room, have to be good..." she mumbled, more to herself, feeling dread sink in at the thought of not doing what was asked.

A hand was suddenly at her shoulder, pushing her gently so her back was flat against the wall. Her eyes found the floor, feeling ashamed with herself. What would Luc think?

"That boy glamoured you!?" Jacks was furious enough to bring down the whole of Wolf Hall.

"Luc..." she gasped, she had to get to Luc.

Jacks growled at the sound of his name on her lips, and suddenly he was closer than ever.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to tear him limb from limb."

He cupped her face and pulled her up so he could look at her.

"Little Fox--"

It was like a tether being broke in two, it was like waking up from a coma where you thought all your dreams were real. It was the breaking of a curse.

"You have the most beautiful eyes." Was all she could say. Because it was true, Luc's hadn't glowed, not really, not like this. His hands felt invasive, where Jacks were cold in a way that assured they would pull her out of any fire. His breath next to her ear hadn't made her throat close up, rather it sent delicious shivers down her spine.

He stumbled back, looking at her in a whole new way, a way that sent the whole situation crashing down on her.

"Oh... oh my god." She cupped her mouth with her hands, tears blurring her vision as she slid down the stone walls.

Not again, not again.

Jacks was in front of her in an instant, crouching down and pulling her hands from her face. "Never again." His blue eyes were like the brightest part of a flame.

Evangeline didn't know what to do with herself. The world kept playing these stupid mind games with her when all she wanted was love.

"Evangeline... did... did I just undo your curse?" He clasped her tear-stained hands in one of his, using the other to brush off the wetness on her cheeks.

'I... I guess." Evangeline continued sobbing. Sleep, she wanted to sleep.

He was quiet for a moment, staring dumbfounded at her. She wanted to ask what she missed, but his face cleared, and he helped her to her feet.

"You're not going to your room tonight," Jacks said, pulling he up the staircase and to his room.

"Jacks!" Evangeline pulled her hands from his, "As the wife of the prince, it would be impure to sleep in your room."

But Jacks wound on her in an instant, so quick she couldn't blink before his lips were on hers.

She pushed him away instantly, but it was too late. His mouth had left an implant on hers that tasted sweeter than anything she'd had the pleasure to consume. Still, he stayed close.

"Do you know what it means to break a vampire's glamour?" Jacks ground out. When Evangeline didn't respond, he continued, "No one else could have done it besides your true love, Little Fox. The way the glamour works, it can only be broken by looking into the eyes of your true love. You looked at me, and your curse broke." He pulled her to him again.

She felt like her heart might explode. Jacks? Her true love? Why did it make so much sense and yet none at all.

She didn't stop to think about it, because his lips were then on her neck, and he was twisting the knob to his door and pushing them both in. She gasped as his kisses spread from her collarbone to her ear.

"But... Apollo--"

"I do not care one ounce about the prince, and I'll deal with Luc in the morning. Right now, all I care about is kissing every inch of you I've been withheld for so long."

The way his lips were descending toward her chest, she had no protests as her knees hit the bed and she let herself fall. She pulled him down by his collar and joined their lips.

"You're mine." She gasped.

"From the beginning of time to the end." He breathed.

#evangeline fox x jacks #evajacks #ouabh #romance #tbona #the ballad of never after #prince of hearts #jacks #stephanie garber #prompts #ask #angst

[littlefreya]

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”  

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.”  Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.  

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.  

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support. 

#henry cavill #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x ofc #Henry Cavill fanfiction #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes x reade #enola holmes fanfiction

[syndxlla]

More To Love

Part two of the More to Love series

Summary: As you start adapting to Mandalorian culture and life in the palace, you have to start thinking whether or not you’ve made the right decision.

Word Count: 6.2k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’

Warnings: Non-Consensual kiss, mentions of loss of pregnancy

Author’s Note: Wow wow wow, the support I’ve gotten for this fic already has been so awesome thank you so much especially to the people who have direct messaged me you’re all so kind I love you guys!!!!

Part One here

“Good-morning, Your Highness.” A Handmaiden said as she pulled open the heavy curtains, letting the bright morning light shine into your elegant room. You softly moan as the sun hits your eyes, and roll onto your side to try and sleep more. “Today you will be having brunch with Her Majesty the Queen and a few members of her court and we have set aside a bit of time for you and The Prince to get to each other this evening before dinner in the library.” Her accent was thick like the Prince’s. You sigh and roll around onto your back, letting your limp hand rest by your face. “I trust you slept well?” She asked as she walked towards your bed, in her hands was a golden tray with a teapot on it.

“Not enough sleep.” You groan, trying not to sound annoyed but failing.

“Would you like to sleep longer, Highness?” She asked.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You sigh before scooting to sit up in your bed, and she places the tray on the table by the mattress.

“I wasn’t sure what type of tea you liked, so I brought a chamomile, do you have a preference?”

You stop to think for a moment, “Chamomile is fine for today, but do you have any hsuaberry tea?” Hsuberries are native to Corellia, and you could use a little taste of home.

“I’m not sure, but I will check for tomorrow?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” You nod.

“I’ll return in a half-hour with the other maiden’s to prepare you for the day then?”

“Alright… Miss?” You stop her as she turns to leave. “Do you have a name? What can I call you?”

“Oh… of course, Lady Soniee would be fine.” She smiles. “Thank you for asking.”

“It’s my pleasure.” You smile in return. “Lady Soniee, is my guard outside?” You ask.

“Yes, he returned to his post with my arrival, in the night we have the night guards patrolling so our individual day guards get some time off.” She explains.

“Would you… Would you send him in, please?” You ask.

“Yes, Highness. Is there anything else you would like?” Soniee asks.

“No, that’s all, thank you, dismissed.” You released her from her duty and she turned to leave the room. As her back was turned to you, you rub a bit of the sleep out of your eyes and run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to tame your bed head. You wanted to look presentable for the knight. Truthfully, you haven’t quit thinking about him since last night’s endeavor. You fell asleep picturing what he looked like under his armor, and brainstorming what his name might be. You even wondered if you dreamed about him, but it’s all gotten hazy now. You knew this was inappropriate, and that you were here for your wedding with another man, but something about the secret relationship the two of you were forming was exciting, you were addicted to it. You sigh deeply as she closes the door behind her and then quickly looks down at your nightgown, proceeding to pull the cap sleeves down your shoulders a bit to show more skin and more of your collar. You laugh slightly to yourself, “You are ridiculous.” You mumble, chuckling. Before you could consider anything else, however, he walked in, his stature at attention.

“Is there something wrong, Your Highness?” He asked.

You felt your cheeks heat up in his presence, “I just wanted to thank you again for last night.” You tried not to gush as you spoke.

“Oh… Yes, anything for you, your Highness.” He nodded in response. Your chest filled with warmth as you looked at him.

“You’ll be accompanying me today, correct?” You ask.

“Of Course, Your Highness.” He nodded once again, you really wanted him to call you princess again.

“Wonderful, I hope you slept well last night.”

“I did, Princess, did you?” You smiled a little too wide at the title, and tried to cool your cheeks, not wanting to look like an absolute child in front of him.

“Yes, I did, thank you once again, I’ll see you later.” You sigh in response. “Dismissed.” That word felt like poison to you, you didn’t really want him to leave but didn’t know how to keep him around longer. This was an accident waiting to happen, and you had the power to stop it in its tracks, the only problem is that you didn’t want to.

—

The Gardens were even more beautiful in the daylight, the sun shone spectacularly off the fountains and the various statues scattered throughout the estate contrasted lovely with the bright flowers. You sat at a round table ornately decorated with various different pastries, teas and sandwiches on it. Around the table was the Queen, the women of her royal court, yourself and of course the Elf. You really wanted to speak to the elf, unfortunately, you asat across from her, and was forced to mostly converse with The Duchess Wren and another woman you had never spoken to before. The Queen introduced her to you last night but you were having a hard time remembering her name. The women weren’t in such heavy gowns this time, and none of them wore the jeweled headpieces they had on the night before except for the queen. You wore a light beige and white dress which ruffled at the sleeves and had a scooping boat neckline. It was very beautiful, however the corset back didn’t go nearly as high this time as the last dress did, which meant you couldn’t use it as an excuse to spend more time alone with the silent knight. He stood a few feet behind you away from the table, watching over the event. Every now and then you would turn to glance at him, ceiling every time you laid eyes on his armor.

The tea was fine, not as good as the winter teas you had back home, they were far more bitter. Mandalorians clearly enjoyed more bitter-tasting food as you noticed the longer you’re here. Once again, you were being mostly ignored as the Women who knew each other talked about drama within the Mandalorian Royalty. It was all much more conspicuous than anything you would talk about at home, and you found yourself quietly listening in on the various conversations instead of applying yourself to them. The women most likely thought you were some sort of strange claude, not social enough and far too boring for their culture. Again, you tried convincing yourself that you were overthinking, but you had a hard time believing yourself.

“And what about you, Your Highness?” The Elf spoke up, interrupting your deep and self-centered thoughts.

“Huh?” You were not listening.

“What do you think about the conduct to come out of Coruscant?” One of the fatter women sitting by the queen asked.

“Oh… I think they’ve rather lost their integrity since the assassination of their Emperor…” You clear your throat. You were just saying what you remember hearing your father say, attempting to fit into the conversation and hopefully gain some affection, knowing how much Mandalore despised Coruscant (you were rather indifferent, however).

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” The Queen smiled, “I believe you will be well suited for the politics of Mandalore.”

“Oh yes,” you began, “I had been preparing to be Queen of Corellia my whole life, I find politics rather exciting.” You admitted.

“Hm, I prefer to leave the politics to the men.” The fat woman scoffed and sipped her tea.

“I nearly forgot, you’re the only hair to the throne of Corellia, aren’t you?” The elven queen asks.

“Yes, I am.” You nod in response.

“Ah yes, your mother got sick and lost a baby-” The fat woman laughed. Your face dropped and went pale.

“Excuse you-” You began.

“Lady Aryn, have you no respect?” The Queen frowned.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, just a rumor I heard.” She shrugged, not seeming to care that she offended you or The Queen.

“Well it’s not a rumor.” You swallowed thickly, wanting to put her in per place for such an inappropriate comment, “My mother lost a baby when I was all but five and you have the audacity to bring it up like there’s nothing rude about it.” You spit out.

“Well who is to take the throne once you marry the Prince?” The fat woman asked as she sipped her tea. Many of the other women involved stayed quiet, timidly watching the drama play out.

“I don’t believe that is any of your business.” You chuckle out of frustration.

“It is my business, whomever rules Corellia during the impending war will directly affect how Mandalore responds to it. Considering my husband is the Grand General of the Mandalorian Army, it is very much my business.” Lady Aryn raised an eyebrow and dread washed over your body as she finished.

“I believe that your Cousin will be taking the throne?” The Elf Queen vouched for you and you were thankful she did, but still found the entire situation rude and out of hand.

“It should be me, but I’m being married off and getting my title stripped away from me.” You blurted out and immediately regretted what you said. You looked around at the faces of the women at the table. Each one showing a different expression of shock or betrayal, everyone but the Queen. The Queen’s face was stern, her lips dangerously straight and thin and her eyes dark as the two of you made eye contact. You had offended the Queen of Mandalore, you had offended the most powerful and wealthy monarch in the world. You sighed, and closed your eyes for a moment. “May I be excused, Your Majesty?” You asked with your eyes closed, waiting to open them until you finished speaking. You looked up at her through furrowed eyebrows, awaiting her response. The air was deathly thick, the tension grew as the court looked around at the scene. Your anger was justified, the remark on your unborn sibling was out of turn and incredibly rude, and after feeling ignored and unwanted for twenty-four hours by the very people set up to be your family, you snapped.

“You are excused.” The Queen said quietly, almost too quiet to hear, and you slowly stood from your chair before turning to leave. You looked to your knight as you did, and he followed. After you made distance between yourself and the other Mandalorian women, you could hear faint whispers. That went so much worse than you could have ever imagined. You want to disappear, you want to go home. You swallow a tear and sigh of relief when you get back into the Palace, strolling the halls until you found an empty sitting room. You sit down on one of the blue sofas and bring your fist up to your mouth. The Knight waited at the door, watching your every move. You felt ridiculous, and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of the only person who’s shown you any decency since you arrived in Mandalore. You look over to him with dewey eyes before clearing your throat.

“I apologize for my conduct, I didn’t want you to see me like this.” You shakily sigh out. He didn’t reply, and you laugh once, “I suppose you have your code to uphold here.” You look down as you place your hands in your lap.

“No, I’ve sworn to protect you, that comes before the code of arms.” He takes a step forward and you were almost startled at his voice, you weren’t expecting him to speak up, but you were incredibly happy he did. You look up to see him a little closer, and smile just slightly at his gesture. “I didn’t protect you out there, I’m sorry.” He nodded his head.

“There’s no way you could have known,” You shrug, you didn’t want him to blame himself for your mistake, “Besides, I wasn’t in any danger.”

“Maybe you weren’t in any physical danger, but.. I really shouldn’t say this but that was out of hand. You’re family with the Queen now, she should have defended you.” He continued to step closer to you. “I deeply apologize for being so careless and allowing you to be hurt.” He bowed after saying this, and you smiled.

“Your apology is accepted, Sir Knight.” You slightly teased. “Thank you.” Your chest and stomach was filled with that warm and welcoming feeling again, and the negative endeavor from outside was forgotten even for just a moment. You knew you would have to face it eventually, and formally apologize to the Queen for offending her, but until then, you would allow yourself to feel okay for now. “You’ve been the kindest to me since I arrived.” You tilt your head, “You have no idea what it’s meant to me.”

“As I said, I vowed to be there for you, I will honor that vow.” He said, you didn’t want to feel like he was only being nice to you because he had to. You suck your lips in for a quick second as you absorb his response, unsure of how to respond. “But-” he interrupted your thinking, “It has truly been a pleasure to serve you, and I would be happy to undress you when you ask.”

Your eyes widened, “Excuse me?” It’s not that you didn’t like what you said, you just weren’t expecting it so casually.

“That- came out wrong, forgive me.” He corrected himself. “I mean, I’m happy to help you with anything you like.” He clears his throat and you smile, blushing at his sheepish correction.

“I understand.” You look down at the floor again. “I’m sorry they only give you the nights off.” You switched the topic, not wanting to linger on the last one in case someone was walking by or overheard anything.

“That’s fine, I... enjoy my time with you.” He stopped mid-sentence to consider what he was saying. You smile and laugh a little again.

“It must be tiring, wearing the armor all day, standing at attention, only getting a handful of breaks every few hours…” You think out loud.

“I’m used to it,” He shifts to his weight on one leg, lightly poppin his hip out as he speaks to you. “It’s not so bad, anymore.”

“Is the armor heavy?” You ask, trying to distract yourself.

“Yes, but that’s another thing we get used to. Our bodies adapt to it.”

“So… are you saying you’re strong under all that metal.” You raise and eyebrow, flirting just a little. You could hear a light chuckle come through the helmet when you said this.

“I guess you could say that.” It was like you could hear his smile.

“I’ve found that all Mandalorians are very attractive, do you fall under that assumption?” You knew very well you were playing with fire, that this was uncharted territory and everything was screaming at you to stop before you got too far but you couldn’t. Everything about him was so intriguing to you.

“I’m.. I’m not from Mandalore, actually…” He slowly responded.

“Oh?” You tilted your head, “I thought you had to be in order to be a part of the guard?”

“Well, in a way, you do. You have to be either born in or taken in as a foundling, and that’s what happened to me.” He shrugged.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” You blinked, “Where are you from? Or can you not tell me…”

“The Nevarro frontier.” He responded, “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” He groaned. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the sound of his rough voice groaning in such a way. You swallow your thoughts.

“You’re a long way from home.”

“I guess you could say that.” You smile at him again after he says this before turning and looking behind you, taking in the room. This was a larger sitting room, and there was a baby-grand piano in one of the corners. Outside of the windows you could see a courtyard, not the same courtyard that the garden is placed in, but one that was stoned and had a large tree in the center of it. There was so much of the palace you hadn’t seen yet, it was far larger than the Corellian one. You stood up to walk over to the piano, feeling a bit better now, and sitting at it. “Can you play?” He asked.

“Yes, I learned at a very young age.” You bring your hands up to keys and begin playing a song, one you have memorized. It was your mother’s favorite song. You played it with such emotion that the Knight was drawn into it, relaxing from his attentive stature and enjoying the sound.

“You’re... very talented.” He nodded.

“Thank you.” You said, looking up at him from the instrument. “I’m a bit rusty I must admit.” You shrug.

“I know someone who would really love it, no matter how rusty you say it is.” He explained.

“Who?” You ask as you stop playing, wondering who he may be talking about.

“I-I shouldn’t say, I’ve already broken the code so much-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I fully understand.” You interrupt, “But just know that anything you say is safe with me, If you vowed to protect me from both physical and emotional harm, the least I can do is keep your secrets.” You nod. He sighs, you can’t hear it but you see it in the armor.

“My.. Uh, my son.”

—

“Soniee, do you know if any guards are fathers?” You ask as the handmaiden tightens the corset on a different dress, tying it to your body. You were preparing for some time alone (chaperoned) with the Prince. You knew you promised the Knight you would keep his secret, and you would do everything in your power to uphold that secrecy, but you figured there was no harm in asking a few questions here and there. As far as anyone is concerned, you’re just curious about the customs and traditions of your new kingdom.

“Well many of the Knights have families of their own, some have illegitimate children as well.” She said behind you.

“So, they don’t have an oath of celibacy?” You ask, hoping it didn’t sound too strange or specific.

“What? No,” She laughed as she said ‘no’, “No, marriage and families are incredibly important to Mandalorian society, the only thing stronger than power or war is love and family. Blood before anything else.” She explained, she had clearly said those words before.

“Maybe that’s why everyone is so cold towards me.” You sigh.

“Maybe.” Soniee confirmed, “But I also believe any new member of house Kyrze is going to be given a hard welcome.”

“And why is that?” You ask, wincing afterwards due to a tight pull of the corset.

“Well it’s taught in every Mandalorian history class: House Kyrze is the royal bloodline, but it wasn’t always that way…”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a civil war some years ago almost immediately after the assassination of Queen Satine. A bad man came in and tried to overthrow Queen Bo-Katan. He was successful in his endeavors for a while, and that's why the Elves and the Queen are so close-” The handmaiden explained.

“I never knew about a Mandalorian war that happened among themselves?”

“It’s shielded from the outside world, we fear that if it gets out, people will stop coming to us for their wars out of speculation that we are not strong enough to fight them if we can’t control each other.” She finished the corset and took a step back, admiring the beautiful dress. “Many Mandalorian’s blame Queen Bo-Katan for the civil war even though she gave up everything she believed in to protect the royal family. You see, she used to be on the side of the Bad Man, but switched after her sister’s death. Many see her unfit for the crown, including members of her own Court.” You didn’t need any more explanation from Soniee to assume who that might be. Considering your previous endeavor this morning, the fat woman probably did not approve of the queen.

“That is why it’s essential that this marriage happens. The people love Korkie, they always have. He is the true heir and the pride of his mother, who was revered and loved throughout all of the kingdoms. When he is back on the throne, not only will anyone who disapproves of Bo be silenced, but they will also see it as one of her many successes. Having to raise and prepare a child who isn’t even yours is not easy.” Soniee concluded.

Great, another weight to be placed on your shoulder based on your ability to fall in love.

“I had no Idea any of that happened.” Your eyebrows furrowed together.

“Personally, I believe that is why you’ve received such a harsh welcome, Korkie is the golden boy of Mandalore, and many will not see you fit for his wife.” You sighed, your belly filling with stress.

“Highness, the Prince is waiting for you in the library.” Your Royal Guard interrupts the conversation, and you smile at him.

“Thank you, Lady Soniee, you’ve been incredibly kind and helpful.”

“Of course, Princess. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” She curtsied and you walked out of a your suite into the hallway.

This dress was simpler than the last, a soft pink with embroidered flowers running up and down the smooth tulle and puffy sleeves. It was very beautiful, one you brought from Corellia that was gifted to you a few years ago. You wore pearls from Naboo, and had a soft look to your ensemble. You wanted to be perceived in a specific way by your fiancé, pure of heart, and genuine.

You open the doors to the hallway, and your guard is standing at attention.

“Would you escort me to the library?” You ask, smiling with your lips afterwards. He nods and holds his arm out for you to take, looping your own arms round his and walking down the hallway.

“You look very beautiful, your highness.” He said quietly through the metal, quiet enough that you were the only one who would hear it if anyone would be listening in. You got the lightest touch of goosebumps at his deep and gruff whisper in your ear.

“Thank you, do you think The Prince will like it?” You ask, looking up at his helmet with beady eyes.

“He would be a fool if he didn’t.” The Knight responded, and your stomach filled with butterflies. You blushed as you experienced the addictive feeling of his presence, and pulled him just a bit closer to you. The two of you walk in silence for the remainder of the journey to the beautiful library. This was a part of the palace that you had never been to before, and it was just as stunning as the rest of the castle. Books from all over the world in countless languages sat upon towering bookshelves that reached the tall ceiling. There was a large fireplace and in front of it was a number of red velvet armchairs and sofas. As you entered the quiet room, your eyes immediately found the Prince, who sat in one of the chairs reading a book, his head resting against his fist. You and the Knight walk towards him, and as you pull to unhook your harm, you feel him stretch his hand out to feel you for as long as possible before the contact breaks.

“Prince Korkie.” You curtsie, interrupting his reading. He looked up from the book and smiled, standing and bowing to kiss your hand once again.

“Your Highness, You look lovely.” After he compliments you, you turn to look at the guard, smiling.

“I hope you weren’t waiting for too long.” You as he takes your hand and guides you to sit on a sofa.

“Not at all.” He reassured, “Allow me to introduce you to Lord Vaughn, he will be chaperoning us today.” He gestured to a man sitting across from you.

“My pleasure, Princess.” He stood from his seat to bow.

“The library is beautiful, as is everything else in the palace.” You compliment.

“It’s less beautiful when it’s been your classroom growing up.” The Prince teased and you chuckle. “If you would like, please feel free to take any books at any time.” He nodded.

“Thank you, but I’ve never been very into reading.” You admit. “I much prefer music.”

“Ah yes, I play the viola, my mother taught me when I was a boy-“ Somehow he always made it about himself you noticed. You didn’t think he tried to, but conversations are rather boring when you’re just listening. He talked for nearly a half-hour about playing for the Queen of Naboo as a twelve year-old and being revered as a child prodigy for the early part of his life. You sat quietly as he bragged, telling the story to both you and the chaperone instead of keeping his focus on you. You even caught your mind wandering every now and then, glancing over to your knight to make a little face of boredom in an attempt to make him smile. You know you wouldn’t be able to see him if he had smiled, but the thought of it was enough to keep you occupied. After the Prince bragged about his viola skills for close to an hour, he finally asked what you played.

“Piano, actually. It’s my muse, if you will.” You smile, happy to have finally been included, although it was short lived. The prince then continued to talk about how the Queen could play piano but got sick of it after her sister died and hasn’t played in a very long time. He went on and on about it, and you were starting to wish you had picked up a book on your way in to pass the time.

“Allow me to show you to my favorite section of the library.” The Prince said, forcing you to snap out of your little trance as he held your hand out. You clearly hadn’t been listening for a while because you had no recollection of the previous situation, his voice was very tune-out-able. “I’ve asked the Chaperone and Knight to stay here while I do.” He smiled, and you take his hand, standing from the chair.

“Is that appropriate?” You ask.

“I’m the Prince, I can do what I want.” He shrugs and then proceeds to walk you towards a corner in the library. You look over your shoulder to the Knight one last time before you’re pulled around the corner. “This hall is where I would go when I was mad, isn’t it beautiful?” He asked.

“Yes, it is.” It had mostly desks and only a few bookshelves, but was covered in mirrors on both sides of the walls, showing an endless reflection of thousands of copies of yourself.

“I wanted to give you this, as an engagement present.” He held out a small box wrapped with a blue bow.

“Thank you…” You take the gift out of his hand.

“It was my mother’s.” He said as you untied the bow and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful necklace of a sapphire stone with a gold halo.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” You held up the necklace to your eyes, watching how it sparkled in the light.

“May I put it on you?” He asked. You nod and hand him the jewelry. Turning around and pulling your hair to the side, you feel him hook the necklace, letting the heavy gem sit against your collarbone. You looked down at it.

“It’s incredibly beautiful, Prince Korkie.” You turn around and smile.

“Please, just Korkie.” He said before forcing a kiss on you, pushing his lips into yours forcefully and holding you in place. It startled you, you hadn’t expected this from him, especially considering how kind he had been before. This was your first kiss and was less than pleasant. You push him off you, and look at him in disbelief. You didn’t want to offend him, but couldn’t mask the look of shock and beytrayal from your face. Your stomach filled with regret, it was customary to not kiss one another until your wedding day, why had he broken that tradition? You felt as though it was your fault he forced himself onto you, and you swallowed back the feeling of anger and distrust. If anyone found out you had kissed him before the wedding, they would all blame you, regardless of who initiated the kiss. You both knew this.

“Excuse me…” You huff passed him, returning to the main room of the library and walked towards the door, you heard your Knight follow you close after, and in a fit of confusion and flusterment, you storm as fast as you can towards your room.

When you two got to a more private part of the palace, closer to the suite, you heard him speak up, “Princess, princess what’s wrong?” You hear your knight say, and before you can ignore him, you feel him grab your hand. It isn’t forceful and it doesn’t hurt, but he’s strong, he wouldn’t be letting you go unless he had to. You turn around to show a tear running down your cheek. “What did he do?” The Guard asked. You swallow thickly and try to look away, darting your eyes behind him, “Look at me.” He said.

“I can’t see your eyes.” You sniffle.

“Please, did he hurt you?” He took a step closer to you, your bodies almost flush against one another.

“We can’t do this here-“

“Did he hurt you?” The knight repeats himself, sterner this time.

You look at his helmet and sigh, “No.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” You were embarrassed, and pull your hand away before walking away, trying to get to your room before bursting into tears. You heard him pick up his pace to catch up and then suddenly he was cutting you off with his body, firmly grabbing your shoulders.

“As your Royal Guard, it does concern me. I told you just this morning that I promised to protect you, and now you’ve gotten hurt twice because of my mistakes.” He said, startling you just a bit. No one had ever spoken to you this way, no one had ever shown that they care this much.

“It’s not your fault, really.” You reassure.

“But it is. What did he do to you?”

“It’s… I’m embarrassed. It’s silly and I’ll-“

“Nothing you say could ever be ‘silly’ to me.” He said, his voice hushing as he did, giving you those little goosebumps again.

You sigh, looking up at him and trying to get out your next sentence, “He-he kissed me. I wasn’t expecting it and he broke tradition and it was all so… so forced.” You admit, feeling as though he would blame you for the kiss.

“He what?”

“You’re really going to make me repeat myself?” You scoff and push passed him, you were almost to your room, if you could make it just a little further-

“He kissed you?” The knight asked.

“Yes. I told you it’s ridiculous but-“

“It’s… not. Ridiculous, that is. It’s not ridiculous. Did he ask if he could?”

“No…” You reply, “I didn’t think he had to.” You raise an eyebrow. “I just wasn't expecting such a stark betrayal of tradition and it startled me and if anyone else find out, they’ll all blame me-“

“He has no right to lay a single finger on you without your permission. He hurt you, and therefore I’ve failed at my job.” He interrupted you.

“Oh-“ You mutter, finally arriving at your door. He had done that without your consent, he had hurt you. The knight was right all along and you were stupid to not accept his help right away. You wipe a tear away from your cheek and open the door. You take a step in, and hold the door open for him to join you. “I have over an hour before dinner… I’ll have to see him again.” You swallow before closing the door.

“I’ll be there by your side, I won’t leave you again. I won’t let him hurt you like that ever again, I promise.” He was firm and confident with his words, giving you a little wave of relief as he spake them.

“Thank you.” You whipser. You take a deep breath and look at him, “You said he can’t do anything without my permission?”

“Yes. That’s how you protect yourself. Don’t give him power he doesn’t deserve.” The Knight explains.

You exhale sharply, “I had never been kissed before.” You admit, looking down at the floor. “It wasn’t what I expected, to say the least.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t… kisses are special, sacred.” He sounded pained as he said them, like it was hard for him to get the words out.

“Have you kissed anyone?” You ask, considering he had a son, you assumed he had, but never really know unless you ask.

“Yes, once, a long time ago.”

“So you haven’t had that helmet on since birth?” You lighten the mood just a little. You hear him chuckle and your stomach is filled with warmth at the noise.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Can you ever take it off?” You ask, walking over to sit on your bed, listening intently, he takes a step in that direction, too.

“Yes, I take it off to eat and bathe and sleep and sometimes I take it off to talk to my son…” He sighs, “But at work, in the palace, in the eyes of other people, it stays on. Always.This is the way.”

“I still don’t understand why.” You tilt your head.

“It… protects us, it keeps our knighthood separate from our manhood, an it’s an ancient tradition practiced by Mandalorians, we do it to respect the culture.” He nods as he speaks.

“Hm, I half expected you to say it was just because you were ugly.” You giggle, and he shakes his head. This time, you knew he was smiling under all that metal.

“Compared to you, I am nothing.” You could hear his smile in his words. You blush and the butterflies in your stomach only grow. You pause for a moment, carefully considering what you were going to say next.

“Will you… will you kiss me?” You ask, looking up at him, he goes still.

“What?”

“Will you kiss me?” You repeat yourself. He doesn’t respond at first, and for a moment, you fear you’ve made a terrible mistake. You wanted him to, you wanted to know what he meant by “kisses are sacred”. He had plagued your mind ever since you first spoke to him and you already have far more affection in your heart for the Knight than for the Prince. You wanted to kiss him.

He sighs in response, and nods once, “Close your eyes, and keep them closed.” You blushed at his agreement.

“Okay.” You say, slowly closing your eyelids and patiently awaiting his next move, feeling triumphant that he agreed. Your body fills with adrenaline as you wait, trying to slow your heart rate with deep breaths.

“Promise to keep them closed?”

“I promise.” You whisper and a few seconds after, you hear the sound of metal hitting metal, and the hollow echo of his helmet being placed on the mattress by where you sit. It took everything in you not to open your eyes, you wanted to look at him, wanted to see his eyes. But you made a promise, you had made promises to each other and had to keep those promises.

Then, ever-so-gently, you feel his warm and forgiving lips against yours.

They’re soft and light, like he didn’t want to hurt you. You melted into his touch, and against your soft skin you felt his stubble run against it. It was rough in the most satisfying and loving sensation possible. He was much kinder than the Prince, so gentle, so true. It wasn’t a very long kiss, but it was more than a peck, and held more passion and intimacy in it than any of the hours you spent with your fiancé combined. He moved just slightly against you, and you felt his bare hand come up to hold your jaw in place as he deepened it for a split second before pulling away. As your lips parted from his, your breath was taken right with them, and you had to consciously remind yourself not to open your eyes.

“Keep them closed, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, trying to remember the feel of his kiss. “Thank you.” Your voice was broken, and you wanted another, but before you could ask, you felt the helmet lift off the bed and the sound of gloves being pulled onto hands.

“Open.” He said after a moment, and your eyes fluttered open to see the knighted figure in front of you. “You’re welcome.”

Part three here

#din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #fan fiction #pedro pascal #reader insert #star wars #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #royalty #royalty au #fantasy au #princess x knight #princess au #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando #mando smut #no y/n

[sirenprincess15]

Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 15

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

In this chapter: Aleksander struggles to share his secrets with Alina until he finds her upset and needing him.

Recommended listening: Lady A "Need You Now"

Chapter 15

They went on that way for a couple of days. Alina spent most of her time with the tracker. It tore Aleksander up but he permitted it for her. Most of Aleksander’s time was spent handling details of the war, receiving intelligence reports, and managing Ravka. Keeping everyone alive kept him focused.

It was the evenings he spent alone that were driving him mad. He kept thinking of Alina’s desire to be fully honest with each other and Fedyor’s words of the importance of knowing and accepting a partner wholly, even with flaws. He had always been a strategist, always played through all scenarios in his head a thousand times until he arrived at one he liked. No matter what scenario he envisioned with Alina, none of them ever turned out as he desired. He desperately longed for the kind of love and acceptance that Alina called for. There had been so many years alone where he had yearned for someone to share things with. However, every time he tried to plan the discussion of one of his secrets, it all went to hell quickly. He had even spent one evening writing it all out for her in the hopes that would help him solidify his thoughts. It hadn’t, and he’d burned it all as he realized how beyond stupid it would be to give her such information in writing.

The problem, he realized, was that he could eloquently justify every decision he had made, but no matter how he poured his heart out into explaining it all, none of that would make the truth any less horrible. Marie was dead--that knowledge would hurt Alina, and he just couldn’t stand the idea of her experiencing all that pain. Genya was his spy--without the centuries of seeing Grisha persecuted to understand what it meant if they lost this war, without seeing the king’s ineptness firsthand, seeing the battalions they had lost because of inadequate supplies and wasted funds, she would never be able to understand this decision. It was unforgivable to leave Genya in that situation. He knew it was, even if Genya had agreed to stay in it herself. That didn’t mean it wasn’t the necessary decision, too. They weren’t mutually exclusive, but Alina would never be able to grasp that. He had a way to potentially take control of her power and use it against her will--would she ever believe he didn’t intend to use it? Was that even really true? He had always hated the idea and told everyone they would not be using it, but deep down he had always known it was the back-up plan. Could he even say he didn’t intend to use it if he knew there were circumstances where he would? All the thoughts swirled in his head and threatened to take him past his breaking point. And then she would be there to help him sleep and somehow it was enough to get him through the next day.

He was stuck, and he didn’t see a way out of this pattern. He couldn’t stop thinking of ways to try to explain things to her. He needed her. His desire for her to actually accept him was overwhelming. But how could she? As he imagined trying to explain things to her, he saw things through her eyes. It was a fresh perspective, and what he saw was horrifying. It all caused him horrible guilt, and, yet, he knew he would make the same decisions again. Over the centuries, he had become numb to accepting the small pains to prevent the true horrors. Alina had reignited emotion inside him, and suddenly everything was raw again.

Aleksander looked at the clock and groaned. It would still be several hours before Alina would visit his chambers to help him sleep. He could not take another night of tearing himself apart while trying to come up with words to help Alina understand how the murder and torture of Grisha over the centuries had forced him to make harder and harder choices. He should get up and do something productive, something, anything to keep his mind active. The library might be a good idea. He thought he had most of the good sources on the Stag in his chambers, but there could still be some good books with more information on relics in general that he and David had not yet read that could at least keep his mind engaged. There was the added bonus that the library reminded him of happier times with Alina. He had never seen someone smile so broadly at books. The memory of stolen kisses between the shelves brought a smile to his face.

Decision made, Aleksander strode to the library. He froze when he saw Ivan hovering near an alcove. Ivan was supposed to be guarding Alina. Aleksander raised an eyebrow, and Ivan gestured with his chin toward the alcove. Years of working together made a silent exchange possible. Alina was in the alcove, and Ivan thought Aleksander should go in there.

“Alina,” Aleksander gasped as he took in her appearance. In her nightgown and robe, she was disheveled, hair a mess, with tears in her eyes.

She desperately tried to wipe the tears away when she saw him. “Aleksander.”

“You’re crying,” he whispered as he closed the distance between them.

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

He reached out and tilted her chin until she met his eyes. “You never let me get away with that line.”

The tears started to fall again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. To his surprise, she started sobbing. He tentatively sent his power through to her. It caressed against hers and begged for a response. This time, she let the connection flow between them. Emotions echoed back and forth with the familiar comfort of each other. She was sad, confused, scared. He was concerned. He made sure to let her feel his love for her, whether she wanted it or not.

“I missed this,” she whispered after a long while.

He blinked. Didn’t she know she was in control of that? He constantly longed for the connection with her. She was the one who decided when they were allowed to have this. “I missed you.”

She sighed and finally let go of the stress in her. In their bond, she pulled for his comfort.

“Did he hurt you?” It was a quiet question, but there was a clear threat in his tone. If the tracker had harmed her, there was nothing that would stop him from enjoying that man’s death.

“No,” she responded quickly. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Are things not going the way you want with the tracker?” He tried not to enjoy that idea. Alina was hurting. That was bad even if it would result in the tracker being out of the picture.

“You’ll be relieved to know that we’ve realized what we are to each other and it’s family. I tried to kiss him. It was awful. So awful, Aleksander.” She made a face and then gave a soft little laugh. “I do love him, but that felt so wrong, and I realized it’s because he’s like my brother.”

“That is not why you are crying, though.” He could tell. He couldn’t let himself become distracted by the jealousy he felt at the idea of the tracker’s lips on hers, even if it was awful as she said. She was comfortable with the decision that the relationship with the tracker was not romantic. He might take more joy in that, but he could not because something else was devastating her. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

“I’m afraid it will upset you.”

Because the tracker had actually hurt her? Because she was going to say something against Aleksander? Something to break his heart? “I can take it.” He kissed the top of her forehead. “If I somehow found a way to talk to you about the Fold, you can share this with me.”

She looked up at him with uncertainty in her eyes. “I can’t. You’ll hurt him or ... lock him in the dungeons.”

So this was about the tracker. He might very much like to kill, mame, or at least imprison the tracker for whatever she was about to say next, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him unless he agreed not to hurt that idiot and she could feel that he meant it. He took her hand in his so she could get a strong read of his emotions. “I promise I won’t hurt him without your permission.” That, at least, he could agree to. He’d just convince her to let him kill the tracker if that was called for.

Unable to look him in the eye as she spoke, she focused her gaze on the floor and whispered. “He wants us to run away and hide. He has a whole plan. I tried to explain how I can’t do that. I can’t hide my power. I told him how sick it used to make me. I didn’t understand what was causing it at the time, but now I do and I can’t go back to not being able to eat or sleep, to feeling so exhausted constantly. Nadia told me some stories of Grisha who tried to suppress their powers and got seriously ill. But he just keeps saying it will be fine just for a little while.”

Aleksander tried not to react to the news that the tracker was trying to escape with her, but Alina could probably feel his response. Anger was there, of course, but more than anything it triggered his protective instincts. He swallowed as he tried to push away any concerns of the tracker stealing her out of his safe space in the Little Palace. That wasn’t why Alina had told him or what she was asking for his help with. “He doesn’t accept you as you are, but it’s only because he doesn’t understand you. What we are is impossible for him to comprehend.”

She leaned against his chest so he could wrap his arms back around her. “He keeps saying things against Grisha. Not against me, he says not me, but … I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it half the time. ‘We can’t trust her, she’s Grisha.’ ‘Those people always have tricks up their sleeves.’ Please don’t be mad at him. He isn’t trying to hurt me, but it does.”

“Prejudice against our kind is something learned at an early age. It’s so ingrained in Ravkan society, worse so in other countries, he probably does not realize that it is hate he is speaking.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to defend or slander him. It’s the truth you need to hear, Alina. He is otkazat’sya. You are Grisha. They have always hated our kind. Fight as we may to be accepted, we never are.”

“I’m tired of feeling so … foreign … other.” She sighed.

“Do you feel like that here at the Little Palace? When you are with me?”

“No, and when he says things like that … I … It’s stupid. I’m so stupid.”

She knew he couldn’t stand for her to put herself down, but he was trying to get her to open up and let all her feelings out, so he didn’t correct her. “Tell me. All of it.”

“I’m a mess, Aleksander. I’m such a mess.”

“You hold me together when I am a mess. I can do the same for you.”

“When he says things that hurt me, all I want is you. I miss you. I miss our connection. I find I can’t breathe when I’m not with you. There’s just this tightness in my chest that won’t go away. I long to reach out to our bond.”

“And that’s a bad thing? Maybe when he puts you down, you subconsciously reach for the only person who has ever made you feel like you are enough and worthy of being loved. I wanted to give that to you, Alina.”

“I’m so scared, Aleksander. I’m in here crying because I need you and I’m so scared to need you!”

“You have taught me it’s okay to need you. It’s okay to need acceptance and love, Alina. I offer those.”

“How can I need you if I don’t even know if I trust you?” Her voice cracked.

Aleksander sucked in a breath at the pain those words caused. “Because of what Baghra said?”

She nodded into his chest. “And the manipulation. If I didn’t know about the letters, what else don’t I know? What else are you doing to manipulate me? At times I think I am strong enough and I can tell when you are lying to me, so that will be enough for me to be able to stay in control of things with you. Other times I’m terrified that I’m still falling for you and I will end up your slave. I realize I’m not in control of anything. I don’t feel whole unless I’m with you! When I’m with Mal, I am constantly thinking of you. I thought that if I gave myself some space, I could separate from that and sort things out, but it’s only worse. It takes all my strength not to run to your rooms because I need you.”

He wanted to reassure her that he was worthy of her trust, but he wasn’t sure that was even true. Wasn’t he just a bit earlier going through the list of all the secrets he had kept from her? He hadn’t managed to confide any of them to her or even come up with a plan of how he could. “There’s so much you don’t know,” he admitted. “It terrifies me, too. Trying to find a way to share it all with you is destroying me.” It was the full truth for once. There were horrible secrets there. He did not want to be manipulating her. He truly did want her to know all of it now, but he wanted her to understand it all too. Figuring out how to make that happen was eating him alive. He focused on those feelings and opened their bond fully so she can know the truth of that. “I need you. I fear if I use the wrong words, you will leave me, and I will not survive.”

“So … we both are driving ourselves mad with self doubt and worry and the pain of being apart. What do we even do with that?”

“If I had come up with a solution, I would not still be tearing myself apart trying to figure it out.” He sighed at the familiar ache in his chest. “Do you … Do you want to just take a break from … trying to figure everything out? My only solace in life is you. If I am your only respite, can we not just give ourselves a night to have that?” He needed a break, and she needed his comfort. They both were in so much pain from trying to survive alone.

“I’d like that,” she admitted, finally looking up into his eyes.

Aleksander reached out his hand and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and the clenching in his chest finally relaxed. She wanted his comfort. He wasn’t quite sure what a break would look like to her. Would she just want to sit and read in the library? Hold each other perhaps?

Tentatively, he leaned forward to kiss her. Her lips parted, and her body arched into him as if she could not get enough of his touch. He was shocked at the flood of desire that she released through their bond. There was no doubt that she wanted more.

As much as he longed to make mad love to her right there in the bookshelves even with Ivan only an aisle away, it didn’t feel quite right to dive straight into ripping off her clothes. Their relationship was awkward and uncertain at the moment. They needed cuddles and contact and warmth before he reminded her what it felt like to have her body worshipped. An idea occurred to him. “Do you want to take a bath together?”

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

=========

Author Notes: I wrote this chapter a dozen times and deleted them all. Every attempt at writing Aleksander come clean was ridiculously bad. So I started writing about him feeling that way, and Lady A's "Need You Now" came on my station and inspired me. Aleksander was a mess of guilt, self-doubt, and fear until Alina needed him, and then the story just clicked and was so easy to write. All of the emotions felt right once he realized she needed him. He doesn't need to be perfect for her. He needs to be what she needs, and he can be that, even with the dark past. This version felt genuine to the characters, including Alina and Mal. Alina's future with Mal was miserable. I wanted to let her realize 'hey, I don't like this' and choose something else for herself.

#aleksander x alina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morovoza #kirigan x alina #alina x kirigan #general kirigan #darklina #the darkling #alina x darkling

[rosevanhelsing]

Wendigo

Chapter 20.

As Vic made her way to the gas station, Manx straightened up, sat on the couch, and watched Alice. The girl was shivering with cold since she was only wearing a nightgown.

-Come on, pretty. You're shivering with cold and you're going to catch pneumonia.

Alice approached him suspiciously. Charlie smiled, trying not to show his pointed teeth and said:

-Come, sit here a little while. I do not bite.

She sat on the opposite side of the couch but she didn't say anything. Manx took his coat and wrapped Alice up so she wouldn't get cold.

-That's better, isn't it? - said Charlie

Alice nodded in response. Charlie was curious to know what kind of inscape and special ability that girl might have to attract the Wendigo's attention so he subtly started asking her.

-Why was that bad man chasing you to kill you?

-I do not know. That man came into our house at night, I don't know why the alarm didn't go off, he came into my room, woke me up and said that people like me shouldn't exist, that we are bad and that he was going to kill me and then eat me - she said in a distressed voice.

-It is awful. You must have been terribly afraid. Lucky Vic rescued you.

-What was that man referring to "people like me"?

Charlie said:

-It means that you are a very, very special little person. Tell me, have you ever been in a place that is the same as you have imagined?

-Yes. Repeatedly. I have a place that I always go to. I call it The Forgotten Yard. I discovered it one day while going for a walk with my parents. Once I was there for a long time and my parents were very scared. They believed someone had kidnapped me.

- Oh, and how did you get in? Did you take something special with you?

- Like what?

- Something that you like a lot, and that you always wear when you go to the Forgotten Yard

 Alice thought a bit, and said:

"I think this," she said showing him a pendant of a little angel.

- How beautiful. Did your parents give it to you?

- No, my grandmother before going to heaven

- "Wow. I must be losing my faculties”- Manx said to himself, -“I should have been able to guess this”

At that moment, the Wraith sent him a telepathic message:

- This woman is a mess. She is driving me out of pain ...

- Well, take the initiative. Make driving easier.

The Wraith's engine roared a little under its breath as if it were huffing with resignation, though Vic didn't notice. In a subtle way, the Rolls made it easier for Vic to drive, anticipating her movements on the gear lever and clutch. Vic arrived at the gas station, put in the gasoline that Charlie had indicated, and went inside to buy a can of gasoline, oil, distilled water and some food.

While Vic was shopping, the Rolls asked Charlie if he wanted him to turn Vic into someone like him .... Charlie thought for a moment and said:

- No, now is not the time. That moment will come, sooner or later, Vic will end up being mine ... and she will be the one who begs me.

The Wraith's engine purred and she waited patiently for Vic. She loaded the bags into the front seat and they returned to the library. Vic called to let them  know that she was there and went upstairs

- Wow, Charlie. You have better color ... - Vic said- At least now, you don't look like a vampire at all ...

- You are so funny ... - Manx said sarcastically

 Vic looked at Alice peacefully asleep on the sofa and decided to wait for her to wake up alone, she sat on the floor and said:

- I'm going to call Tabitha to send the FBI and Child Care to take care of Alice and give her police protection as long as they don't capture or kill the Wendigo. If he is smart, he will not face the police, fortunately he is not practically immortal like you.

- I keep insisting that Alice should come with me to Christmasland, Vic. She is a creative soul, they will not understand her and that matter will get out of hand- said Charlie- By the way, in your absence, I have found out what her inner landscape is called, and what is her supposed "knife" ...

-Maybe it would be better for her if she didn't use her powers, so that the Wendigo couldn't track her again ... -Vic said

- Definitely. To do this, if you don't want her to come with me, we should take the knife from her, even destroy it. It is the pendant that she wears, it was given to her by her late grandmother.

- Charlie! Surely it is the only memory left of the poor girl of her grandmother. Surely there is a better way to explain it to her or to convince her to "lend" us her pendant while the Wendigo is on the loose ...

- What about my pendant? Alice asked half asleep

"You woke up, sleepyhead," Charlie said affably.

- Nothing, Alice.  I was simply commenting to Charlie that we had to tell you that you should not enter the Forgotten Yard while the Wendigo is on the loose.

- The Wendigo is the bad man who killed my parents?

-Yes. In a while I will call the police and they will protect you and hide you. The Wendigo will not come near you. But while to facilitate their work, do not enter your inscape.

-Inscape?

-That's what the Forgotten Yard is. A place created with your imagination and that you can make real and enter it.

- The Bridge that we cross also an inscape?

-Yes. It's mine

-And the amusement park where it is always Christmas from Mr. Vampire, too?

"Yes, it is too," Vic said as she laughed at the nickname Alice gave Charlie. "Now what do you think if we eat a little?"

 Alice nodded and Vic took the sandwiches she had bought out of her backpack.

-Are there any without meat or fish? I am vegetarian- Alice asked

Charlie rolled his eyes and said:

-You have to see  that you children are fussy  nowadays ... that if I'm allergic, that I don't like that or that ... take a walk with the Wraith and she will take away all that nonsense ...

-Don't worry Alice. I can take the ham off the sandwich… Vic said. She removed the ham from the sandwich and handed it to the girl with a reproachful look at Manx.

Alice stuck her tongue out at Charlie. Manx grunted and said:

- Jesus, look at how badly they educate children nowadays ...

Charlie took the distilled water and oil and said.

-I'm going to put the water and oil in the car. Leave me some of this delicacy ... he said ironically

While Manx was busy with the car, Vic called Tabitha to arrange Alice's pickup time. She also took the opportunity to call home and inform Lou of the situation and calm him down. Lou said:

- An invitation for Halloween has arrived from the publisher of your books. For a costume party, set in the 1930s.

- For parties I am ... we'll see ... how is the theme of Wayne's birthday?

- All ready. I have bought everything the puppy will need. Shall we pick up the puppy with Wayne or may he be surprised when he arrives?

- I don't know, Lou. I don't know what would make you more funny ... Let me finish fixing the girl and when this is over, I'll go home and talk about it. I have to hang up or I run out of battery.

- Okay.

When Charlie returned, Alice was half asleep with her head in Vic's lap. Manx took one of the sandwiches and one of the sodas and satiated his hunger a little. Vic said:

- We have to take care of the Wendigo, Charlie. I'll do it with or without you. I can't allow it to destroy more lives, like Alice's.

- We'll do that.- Charlie said sitting down next to her. -Miss Leigh predicted with her Scrabble tiles that we could beat him together." If the two of you were about to kill me ... imagine what the two of us can do. Vic, I am sure that right now we are the most powerful creatives- said Charlie enthusiastically, taking Vic gently by the shoulders and turning her towards him so that he looked into her eyes - We will come up with something ... and we are not going to die, none of the two. Since we have started this, we are going to finish it.

Vic smiled at him and held out her hand to fit him

- Done deal. The creative soul team will kick the Wendigo's butt and send him to hell.

Charlie laughed and looked directly at Vic as if he wanted to hypnotize her with his gaze, suddenly the Wraith began to honk its horn, and police sirens sounded in the distance.

- I think I'd better go, Vic. When you have a plan and are ready, just tell me.

- I will do it.

Charlie went downstairs, but instead of leaving, he sent the Wraith a few miles farther and hid in the shadows to watch. Vic and Alice went downstairs and spoke to that police officer who had chased him once. Vic hugged Alice and said

- They will take care of you. The bad man won't come for you.

Alice hugged him back tightly and said:

-Thank you for saving me, Vic. - She suddenly took off her pendant and said, "I'll lend you the little angel that my grandmother gave me to protect me.  It sure protects you too. You will return it to me when we meet again. Why will we meet again, right?

- Of course. When the Police and I are done with the Wendigo, I'll come see you and give it back to you. You have my word.

From the darkness, Charlie watched the scene intently, licked his lips and said to himself:

- You have changed a lot, Vic McQueen ... now you are worthy of being Mrs. Christmasland.

#charlie manx #vic mcqueen

[yandere-wishes]

Red Roses //Yandere! Kouen x Reader//

First song fic! For prompt 23 “We paint white roses red each shade from a diffrent person’s head”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You glared angrily at the fleet of guards that surrounded you, soldiers sent to accompany you from your homeland, and soldiers sent to deliver you to the royal palace. Each of their porcelain faces where stoic deprived of any inkling of emotion. 'Mindless brutes' you thought furiously to yourself. 

You didn't want to be here, you didn't want to have anything to do with the corrupt kingdom of Kou. But alas what choice did you have? As the first princess of the Persian empire, it was your royal duty to forge an alliance with one of the most powerful empires that currently stood. Of course, when you and your father had set out to create this "so-called" alliance nither of you had expected the second prince of the Kou -scrawny dead-looking, thing he was-to proposes an arranged marriage to his older brother. 

"No chance! No way!" you tried to invoke reason, hoping to convince your father and his court to decline the offer. It had almost worked too, your father ready to decline the proposal and instead search for a different route. That was until one of his top advisers began singing fables of what a magnificent ruler Kouen ren was, how he had conquered three dungeons a near-impossible task! After that, your pleas fell on deaf ears. Your father had become so entranced with the idea of his eldest daughter marrying a renowned dungeon capture that he stopped caring about who you wanted to marry.

The truth of the matter was, you didn't doubt that Kouen ren was a good man, a good future king, heck he may even be a good husband if you gave him a chance...but that could never happen, for another had captured your heart. Your attention, a man that had served you since both of you were merely little children oblivious to the troubles of the world. He had been your closest friend from before you could properly speak, the one you confined in more than your own flesh and blood. You loved him and he loved you. You dreamed of marrying him one day, so the two of you could rule toghter....yet somehow in a matter of days all your planes had been shattered you were no longer free to marry whomever you pleased. So much for a childhood love story gone right.

The emerald palace danced in view, its glittering walls were practically blinding. Steadily you marched forward in toe with the guards. Your eyes darted frantically trying to find the man that would soon be your husband. The only description you had gotten was that he was a tall man with crimson hair. Secretly you wished that he was hideous or had some major flaws like missing a limp or a tooth or lacking any manners. Anything that would give you a centimeter of leverage to use against this marriage.

The thick iron doors split, presenting you to a crowded room or guards, political leaders, and the imperial family - or what was left of it- along with the infamous dark magi. Your eyes trailed over each person linger longer than it should have. Dread slowly built up in your stomach, oh how you wished to be anywhere but here. Your steps where uneven wobbly and ill elegant. When you reached the head of the room, you shakily took a knee, eyes once more gazing at the blood-colored carpet in front of you.

"Please rise your highness" a raucous voice declared.

Anxiously you pushed your self off the floor, eyes still lingering on the floor. When your orbs finally rose to meet the prince, you were met with an emotionless looking man, his eyes seemed to be judging you, critiquing every breath you took, scars littered his arms and hands, occupying every inch of skin. Somewhere faded other a bright scarlet matching his messy locks. "So you are the princess of the Persian empire? I have to say I'm rather disappointed. When they spoke of you they made you out to be a sort of fierce intellectual, practically a scholar. But you, standing here before me, appear more like a little lost sheep who strayed too far from their flock." Every word the man spoke was gritty and harsh his tone was that of war drums declaring the commencement of a bloody battle. 

Somewhere from the crowd laughter echoed, flowed by a harsh slapping noise and a whiny plea of "Mei it was funny" "Yeah ugly stop being just a stick in the--ow ow okay okay I'll stop, you gloomy-looking rat!" 

An embarrassed blush sprinkled your cheeks, how dare this man defile you in such a manner! How dare his "family" have the nerve to laugh at you as if you were a court jester! Straightening your spine and raising your head higher, you proclaimed as proudly as you could! "It's been a long trip, your highness, I would very much like to retire to my room and further discuss the details of this forced marriage in the morning. " 

Your eyes never once strayed away from his, your fingers had balled into tight fists, making your knuckles turn a snowy white. Passively Kouen waved a hand and a couple of maids rushed to your side using you out the side doors and down the long hallway. From the distance, you could faintly hear a gritty chuckle flowed by the red-haired man's sharp voice. "Force marriage she says"...

Night in the palace of this far off land was nothing like back home, they were restless and noisy. screams and whines filled the air with occasional noise of breaking objects and shatter glass. You had counted about eight times that a young female voice and a high pitch more masculine voice were screaming after a third party. Judar you believed the name was. children the lot of them where. You could even hear the voice of your "finance" yelling at someone to "get out of the dame library" and to "sleep in your own bed like a normal person!". It was hectic pure chaos. You leaned against your open window, peering out at the Jade city. Each of the houses and monuments shimmered in the moon's spotlight, like jewelers hanging from a pendant. For a merciful second, you began to forget your unjust predicament, instead of getting lost in the beauty of your future city.

Lost in your pitiful trance you didn't notice someone scaling up the palace walls. Until they had reached the window's edge. Noticing the hands you quickly recoiled, eyes wide with terror, your mouth was purchased ready to scream when the intruder pulled themselves up. They're basking in the moon's glory was none other than the boy of your dreams, your childhood lover. Your eyes began to tear up as he pulled himself into your room. "My darling?" His voice was so gentle like the finest silks, it wasn't terrifying or degrading in the least, unlike your husband to be's, rough military-like voice. Swiftly you ran up to your lover, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in this chest. "I miss you" he cooed as his fingers curled lock of your hair. His hands cupped your cheeks tilting your head so you faced him. "We haven't much time" he muttered, quickly detaching your arms from his neck. He scurried over to where your bags were, shutting them and dragging them by the window.

"I can't just leave!" you bellowed, "What about the alliance? What will Persia do if I suddenly disappear?" You looked at your lover's eyes sucking in every detail about him. For this could very well be the last time you saw him. "They'll send one of your sisters to marry that vain man! Why must it be you? You and I can run away, live a peaceful like in another kingdom far away from the nation's troubles!" He hoisted a bag up the window frame ready to jump down. "Well you do make a compelling poi--"

The door creaked open, permitting a white light from the hallway to spill inside. Meackly stepping inside was none other than the eighth imperial princess herself Kougyoku Ren. Her hair lost from it's usual restrains and instead of her usual long dress, she was dressed in a simple rosy nightgown. "Hey (y/n) I was thinking that since you're...." Her voice trailed off as she spotted the scene in front of her. Her lips stretched into a thin line. Shakily she took a step back, her pink eyes never once leaving either of you. "KOUEN!" her voice bounced off the walls echoing across the castle. In a matter of moments, a thunder of footsteps were heard.

You gulped rushing towards your childhood friend and trying to shield him from the guards that poured in. "Kouen! She-she's trying to escape." Kougyoku blurted out the moment her brother rushed to her side. From between the guards you caught Kouen's eyes, they held a sort of....glee. Not malice, not anger, not hate but a sort of deranged happiness.

You watched helplessly as the guards dragged your lover from the room. Every time you tried to latch yourself onto him one of the guards would pull you off and push you behind him. The room emptied out quickly, The guards all leaving to deal with the intruder and Kouen shooing his sister to her room. You double-checked, his face was deprived of frustration...maybe that wasn't a good thing, his lips were turned into upwards into a mangled grin, his eyes wide with an evil type of joy. In a few short threatening steps, he was right in front of you. He gripped your wrist and pulled you to his chest, stroking your head with his free hand. "Get some sleep, my darling wife, I want you to be fully awake for tomorrow." with that he gave you an almost loving kiss on the forehead before heading out. Leaving you to tumble to the floor as nonstop tears flew from your eyes.

The next morning you found yourself standing in the gardens with the first imperial prince. That horrid grin still dancing across his face. "You clearly aren't accustomed to the manner in which we do things here in the Kou empire, so allow me to explain. You see here in Kou we do now have red roses." He lifted a finger to point at some rose bushes on the further side of the garden. Somewhere a striking scarlet, while others, an innocent white. "So we paint white roses red, each shade from a different person's head". Your breath hitched in your throat. "Please don't do this" you begged, meekly you grabbed at his arm trying to earn an ounce of sympathy from him. Instead, he just chuckled. "It's a little late for that my dear bride to be" you followed his gaze, just in time to see the executioner lower the sword, slicing off your lover's head.

Time seemed to have frozen, blood spurted outstanding the once pure white roses. The open-air was filled with monotone applause....and your defeated sobs.

#kouen ren #kouen ren x reader #yandere kouen ren #yandere kouen ren x reader #yandere kouen ren x you #kouen ren x you #magi #magi x reade #magi x you #yandere magi #magi kouen ren x reader #magi kouen ren x you #yandere magi kouen ren #yandere magi kouen ren x reader #yandere magi kouen ren x you #magi kouen ren fanfiction #yandere #yancore #yandere music #song fic #yandere song prompt list #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #magi headcanons #kouen ren imagine #kouen ren headcanons #magi imagines

[trassellynn]

Bad Dreams

Day 4 of @weeklygrishaprompts  (I highly recommend to take a look at the event, it’s lovey and funny to participate!)

Prompt: Horror  Fandom: Six of Crows Warnings: Horror, nightmares, canon typical violence. I added two elements from the SoC 3 story I have planned with @mandrake-arya, that are: Van Eck died in prison and Brum was killed by Jesper (long story, but I love the scene we imagined). Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa; Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck; Nina Zenik/Matthias Helvar  Plot:  Wylan, Nina and Kaz are tormented by nightmares that follow the same scheme. Ghosts from their past are back to haunt their dreams, but, luckily, they're not alone. You can find the fic on Ao3 HERE 

WYLAN He was wandering alone, in the dark hall. Thousands closed doors on each side, a single source of light from the candle he was holding. Wylan knew someone was hiding from him, waiting for the right moment to attack. He tried to open one of the doors, with no results. He swore behind his teeth, trying to protect the feeble flame of the candle. Suddenly, a creepy noise behind his back: a door was opening. “Who are you?” the boy screamed. “What do you want from me?” A dark figure towered over him. Then a voice... his voice... “I am the man who you once called father. And I'm here to finish what I started in life...” “Go away!” Wylan cried, taking a step back. “Leave me alone! You have no more power on me! You're dead! You're just a shadow!” Van Eck let a cruel laugh out. “I am a shadow... a shadow that will erase the mistake you are!” With the free hand, Wylan tried to punch the dark ghost, but his knuckles meet nothing. Van Eck vanished, in a scary whisper. “Where are you?” the young man growled. The voice spoke at his ear. “Behind you.” Wylan turned around, trembling. The flame of the candle enlightened the spooky, rotten face of Jan Van Eck, his eyes two white balls, his grin a sharp, bleeding cut. He blew on the flame and everything went black. Wylan screamed, while two cruel, familiar, cold hand surrounded his neck. Then... a voice, a sparkle of hope in the darkness, called his name. “Wy! Wylan! Hey, merchling, wake up!” The redhead awoke screaming, grabbing Jesper's wrists, who was gently shaking him. The Fabrikator cupped his face with his soft, warm hands. “Hey, hey, calm down, it's okay! You fell asleep on the couch, while studying for a new chemical combination.” “I did... what?” It was true: Wylan realized he was sitting on a couch in the library, he still had a Chemistry book open on his lap. He took a deep breath, struggling to keep his eyes dry. “My father... He still haunts my dreams...” Jesper kissed his nose, then, he made their forehead touch: “I should enter your dreams too, to kick his ghostly ass, then!” They both giggled. Jesper's voice became sweeter. “He's gone, Wy. Maybe he can still haunt your dreams, but he cannot hurt you anymore, in real life.  He can be nothing more than a bad dream, now.” Wylan sighed, then, his lips curved in a little smile: “You're right. Nothing more than a bad dream.”

NINA She was wandering alone, into the dark woods. Black, naked trees surrounded her, their branches looked like claws of shadow, ready to grab her, to drag her into a hollow world of darkness. She didn't know where to go, where to hide. She knew he was there, she could feel his presence, his hatred, his thirst for blood and revenge. A whisper behind her back made her shiver. She turned around. No one was there. “I know you're here!” she cried. “Show yourself, you coward!” “I'm here...” His voice, his cruel laugh filled the air. “I'm everywhere, witch! You will never be freed from me! I will haunt your and that traitor's dreams and minds forever!” “Come out and fight me!” she insisted, her hands raised. “So I can destroy you again and again!” A cold hand suddenly grabbed her throat and she saw him, Jarl Brum's ghost, his eyes two dark wells. There was a hole, on the left side of his head, a hole left by Jesper's bullet. Nina struggled against the phantom's grip, growling. She instinctively dug a finger into the bullet wound and the monster screamed, letting her go. Nina tried to use her powers against him, but the branches of the trees moved towards her, surrounding her. She was trapped. “Filthy creature! You will pay for everything!” The ghost ran towards her, his hands, stretched ahead, looked like claws. A voice called her name. Once. Twice. “Nina!” The dark woods, the cruel branches and Jarl Brum's ghost vanished. Nina found herself in her bed, panting, sweating, trembling. Matthias was holding her in his strong arms, gently caressing her wet cheeks: “Nina, love... I'm here... it was just a nightmare...” The young woman looked around, almost afraid to see Brum's shadow in the corners, but then, she tried to regularize her breath, focusing on her boyfriend's blue eyes. “It felt so real...” she whispered, touching his bearded cheek. “So real... it was him... Brum...” For a moment, Matthias' jaw clenched, hearing that name, then, he wiped out her tears with sweet kisses. “He comes to my dreams too. But he can be nothing more than a bad dream, now.” “Nothing more...” she echoed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, to impress that words in her mind. “Yes... you're right...” she whispered, pressing her body closer to his. “Nothing more than a bad dream.”

KAZ

He was wandering alone, into the dark waters. Cold, salty waves around him, pieces of everything floating on the surface. He struggled to swim, to keep his head out of the water, but there was no land on sight and he was feeling tired, so tired... “I... can' stop...” he told himself. “They will catch me...” He knew they were there, under the surface, their pale claws ready to grab and drag him down, in the depths.  He never looked down, he couldn't bear the sight of their ghostly, emaciated faces, their cruel grins, their hollow eyes. And... and the possibility that Jordie's face was among them... Kaz swallowed, forcing himself to ignore the pain that was making his leg stiffen. If Jordie was there... if Jordie was one of them... Ghezen... he would have been driven insane... The pain finally won. His injured leg was completely paralyzed and his other limbs were losing their strength. “No... no, no, no, no, no...” A skeletal claw grabbed his ankle and he tried to scream, swallowing cold, salt water.  “No!” The monsters surrounded him, their cruel hands on him. Their rotten nails scratched his skin, their horrible voices tortured his ears and his mind. Kaz tried a last, desperate last effort. Then, they dragged him underwater He found himself praying to faint, to die quickly, but something was keeping him awake, his brain was refusing to surrender to the darkness.  And then... her voice. Her voice. Like a sudden music in a silent, hollow day. He opened his mouth, to call her back and... and he suddenly found himself in his studio, his face over a pile of documents. He has fallen asleep while sitting at his desk. He growled, taking a peek at the pendulum clock: it was half past three in the morning. “Inej?” he called. His voice sounded horrible and weak.  “Kaz?” She was still awake, not a surprise. She entered the room with her silent walk; a long, violet nightgown wrapped her petite body. “Are you okay?” The young man stood up, rubbing his eyes: “Yes... I mean... no...” Inej surrounded his waist with her tiny arms and rested her head against his chest: “What happened?” It was so good feeling her warmth through their clothes. It was like sitting before a crackling fire, with a cup of hot chocolate and a sweet music in the background. He quickly kissed her head, sinking his lips into her soft, black hair, and, even though he knew it wouldn't have lasted, he felt safe and free from his nightmares. “Nothing, Inej. Nothing more than a bad dream.”

#Weekly Grisha Prompts #WGPWeek4 #Six of Crows #Grishaverse #Kaz Brekker #Inej Ghafa #Jesper Fahey #Wylan Van Eck #Nina Zenik #Matthias Helvar #Kane #Wesper #Helnik #Kaz x Inej #Jesper x Wylan #Nina x Matthias #Parallel nightmares

[creampuffqueen]

Aelin x Rowan baby headcanons

All about Aelin and Rowan’s (many) children

-We all know these two would be next. Let's be honest here.

-From scenes in EoS and KoA, we know that they are open to the idea of children, we know they want them, and that Aelin is not likely taking any contraceptive tonic since she knows that conception may be hard for them.

-Well,,, not exactly.

-For whatever reason, Aelin has a fairly easy time getting pregnant. Around five to six months after Yrene's daughter, Amelie, is born, Aelin finds out she's pregnant.

-She's so so excited, but so so scared. She grew up hearing the horror stories of her mother's pregnancy and birth, how she almost died.

-Aelin tells Rowan on a quiet night they have together, one of the first in a long while. They have been super busy rebuilding and whatnot, after all.

-Rowan is silent for like a solid three minutes, and Aelin thinks he's not happy, but then he breaks out one of the biggest smiles she's ever seen on his face. And then he's crying and laughing and asking over and over again if she's sure this is real. He scoops her into his arms and kisses her, and between kisses Aelin is crying too, and they're both just so excited. You would not believe how excited they are.

-They decide to wait a bit to tell everyone, even though they're dying to tell.

-Well, they can't keep the secret for long. Not because they're bad at keeping secrets, but because Aelin starts getting ALL the pregnancy symptoms and can't hide it anymore.

-Literally. ALL they symptoms. She's not quite a month and a half in, and she can't keep any food down. Morning sickness is the pits, man. But she's also achy and hormonal and tired all the time, and she gets the weirdest cravings. Not to mention, she isn't drinking any alcohol.

-So it doesn't take long for the court to figure out what's going on.

-Lysandra squeals so loud the whole castle hears, and she hugs Aelin and won't let go. She says to Rowan, "This is my wife now," and Rowan, not feeling like getting on the shifter's bad side, lets her be for the time being. Elide almost cries, and then she's hugging her too. Then Aedion joins in. He is full on bawling. Like, ugly baby crying. Aelin jokingly says that even Rowan didn't that hard when he found out, and he's the baby's FATHER.

-Aelin is so sick the first trimester. Like, can't move because she's vomiting so much bad. She can't stand certain foods that she previously loved, and can also devour foods she used to hate. Then her taste buds change completely the next day. Rowan is frantically trying to keep up with her.

-And despite the fact that she is puking her guts up and will cry at the drop of a hat and is aching all over, she's horny. So. Fucking. Horny. Like, she's ready for some at all times. Rowan is scared of hurting her or the baby at first, but Aelin is like, "the only thing that can keep me from vomiting right now is either cake or a distraction, so please, please distract me." Rowan is only too happy to oblige his queen.

-When the morning sickness is over, she gets the rest of the symptoms. She has really good senses, like, really good. And they're heightened by the fact that she's Fae. She can smell what's being cooked for dinner from her suite on the like, fourth floor. It's weird.

-She gets big early on, like a good, seeable bump when she's only around four months. Twins are suspected, but the midwife just says it's one very large baby. Wow.

-Aelin gets frustrated with herself quickly. She's the godsdamned queen, she should be able to DO things, but she's either too tired or in too much pain to do much. She hates feeling so helpless.

-Rowan is never far from her side, and Aelin would find it annoying if she didn't actually need him to help her a lot.

-Imagine every pregnancy symptom, combined, and then times ten. Awful, right? Yeah, that's Aelin's pregnancy. It's bad.

-Despite everything being bad, she still finds time to formally announce her pregnancy. The people suspected, but now it's official. After all, the queen regularly walks around the city, but she hasn't been seen much in the last months.

-The official announcement also alerts Aelin's pregnancy to the neighboring kingdoms. Dorian, of course, sends his regards immediately. Yrene and Chaol send congrats soon after, Yrene again promising to be there for the birth. Ansel even sends a letter to congratulate her. A letter arrives from Nesryn, but as the Southern Continent is pretty far away, it doesn't get there until right before the baby is born.

-One of the only upsides to having every pregnancy symptom ever is that Aelin feels the baby kick fairly early on. The first time she cries, like right then and there. She's in the library, just sobbing, and Rowan finds her, and she has him feel. The baby is kicking and dancing around, and Rowan cries too.

-Of course, baby kicks are only cute when they're few and far between. This baby won't stop moving. Now Aelin can't sleep because her unborn child is already keeping her awake.

-When Aelin has about two weeks left before the birth, Yrene arrives. She has left her daughter at home with her husband, despite the fact they've recently discovered that she's deaf. Yrene puts all thoughts of her family from her mind while she cares for her patient.

-The due date comes, and no baby. Then a few more days pass, and still no baby. Aelin is stressing now; it should have been there by now, is something wrong? She really wants to not be pregnant anymore.

-A meeting with the Lords of Terrasen that had already been delayed arrives. Aelin expected to be a new mother, but she is still heavily pregnant. Like, can hardly walk pregnant. She has to have the meeting, though, so she walks all the way to the meeting hall.

-She is uncomfortable the whole meeting, for some reason she can't explain. She won't stop fidgeting, but doesn't know why.

-She stands up because she has to go to the bathroom, and suddenly a huge rush of water just,,, goes everywhere.

-She says awkwardly "Well, either I've just pissed myself really good, or my waters just broke. Either way, I think I should see myself out to go clean up."

-Everyone is silent and lets her go, with Rowan of course accompanying her.

-They are halfway up to their room when she feels a sudden pain. She cries out, and Rowan lets her squeeze his hand while it passes and helps her breathe through it.

-They get to their room, stopping again for a contraction. Rowan draws her a bath and helps her into it. He washes her hair gently and cools her down from the pain. When she's just soaking in the tub, Rowan calls for Yrene, who is winnowed into the bedroom by Fenrys. The male gives a salute and says "good luck" before disappearing.

-Yrene and Rowan get Aelin out of the bath and dried off, since using her powers is beyond her at the moment. Yrene helps her into a nightgown 'that she doesn't mind ruining'.

-Then they get her onto the bed, which Yrene has stripped, and get her comfortable. Yrene checks her, and she's definitely in labor. But it's going to be a while.

-And a while it is. Aelin's labor is long and hard. Very long. In the early stage she is able to get up and walk around, she dances with Rowan (more like just sways to some music, but it's dancing nonetheless) and reads. Lysandra stops in for a visit and chats while combing out Aelin's hair. The contractions are few and not that bad at this point. Then it gets worse.

-Aelin and Rowan start a bet on if it's a boy or a girl. Aelin thinks a boy. Rowan says girl. Yrene votes girl, Lysandra girl, Aedion and Elide boy. Evangeline comes up for a while with Fenrys, who both vote girl.

-When Aelin can't walk any more she gets into bed and tries to sleep, but it's too hard. She's in too much pain. Yrene gives her both a tonic for pain and for sleep, so she can get some rest and preserve her strength.

-Aelin is in labor for twenty-one hours. By the end she's just crying from pain and exhaustion. Rowan and Yrene are there and coaching her through it. The others left for bed hours ago.

-With the final push, Aelin squeezes Rowan's hand so hard that she breaks it. Rowan doesn't even register the pain because he's so focused on his mate. Aelin screams so loud they hear it down in the city.

-And on an early morning, Aelin and Rowan's baby is born.

-The two of them are still reeling from the labor while Yrene cleans the child, rubbing it and trying to get it to cry. A silent baby is never a good sign, they need to cry so they can breathe.

-But this baby is silent.

-Aelin and Rowan notice their baby hasn't cried yet. And they're worried. Aelin asks if anything is wrong, and Yrene answers honestly; the baby needs to cry so it can breathe, and its not crying.

-Aelin is terrified that her baby is stillborn. With tears in her eyes, she asks Yrene to hand her baby over. The healer does so, whispering softly, "It's a girl."

-A baby girl. She has blonde hair like her mother, and her ears are pointed. Fae through and through.

-Aelin clutches her daughter to her and murmurs encouragement, begging her to wake up and cry.

-They think it's too late. Tears are rolling down the faces of everyone in the room.

-But then- the baby lets out a gasp, and then she starts crying. Her squalling fills the room, and then her parents are sobbing in joy. They have a daughter. Terrasen has a crown princess.

-When Rowan goes to hold the baby, he notices that his hand isn't working. Aelin looks at him apologetically, and Yrene steps in to heal it quickly.

-Their friends soon gather round, cooing over the new baby. She cries and cries, and only stops when her mother or father hold her.

-They name her Lyria Nehemia Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. It becomes sort of a joke within the court, the ridiculously long name of the crown princess.

-When she opens her eyes, they're the same pine green as her father's. Rowan gets a strange sense of deja vu, and he realizes that he's seen this baby girl in his dreams before. It makes him so happy, he won't put her down all day.

-Lyria is a wildfire. Literally. When she's around eight months old and starting to crawl, that's when her powers start showing up. Not only is their baby girl wild, she also nearly burns down her nursery twice. After that she's moved to more... fire-proof quarters.

-It's when Lyria is around seven months old that Aelin starts to feel... off. She can't place it exactly, but something just doesn't feel normal.

-She soon figures out why. She's pregnant again. She hadn't been on the tonic because she thought it would take years more to have another baby. Not to mention, being new parents along with running a kingdom mean that Aelin and Rowan don't have much... alone time. However, the midwife is positive.

-Aelin and Rowan are excited to be having another baby, but Aelin really doesn't want to be pregnant again. The last time was awful, so how is this one going to be?

-The answer? Just as bad. Possibly worse.

-All the same pregnancy awfulness, combined with a wild baby who can set fire to things on accident and is also crawling now. Not a good combo. Rowan tries to take as much off of her as he can, but there's only so much he can do. And some things must be done by the mother. After all, Lyria is still breastfed.

-The court is just as surprised; they also didn't expect another royal baby. The kingdom feels the same way. And all the other friends. Everyone is surprised.

-Lyria stands when she's ten months old, and walks when she's eleven. Poor Aelin is still having bad morning sickness and can't even appreciate her daughter's first steps properly because she is bent over a toilet and puking up her breakfast.

-Despite everything, she's so happy with her family. Her baby girl is wonderful, and she's a fast learner. Her powers are still unpredictable, but she's already managing them better. Rowan is like, the #1 dad. He is the best. Aelin cannot describe just how much she loves him, she didn't think it was possible to love someone so much.

-Her next labor is a little better, only twenty hours this time. And their baby cries as soon as it's born. Aelin bet on another girl, but Rowan insisted that it would be a boy.

-Rowan is right. They have a baby boy with silver hair and Ashryver eyes. His name is Sam Gavriel Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.

-Little Sam is Lyria's opposite. In every way. He is quiet and hardly cries, like, this is one silent baby. Lyria is so interested in her baby brother, it's the cutest damn thing. She loves to sit on one of her parents' laps and hold him, she likes to watch him, she tries to play with him, it's so pure.

-Life progresses. The children get older. Sam also has powers, and quite a lot, but they are slow to manifest. They lean more towards ice and wind, opposite of Lyria's leaning towards fire.

-Both children train with their parents, and when Sam is three, he discovers that he can shift. His other form is a red-tailed hawk. Lyria, on the other hand, is like her mother, with only one form. She is so sad about it, but she learns to love being able to run with her mother while her brother and father fly.

-Aelin finds out she's pregnant again when Lyria is five and Sam is four. She just casually mentions it at dinner with their court one night, saying, "no wine tonight, I can't when i'm pregnant." Everyone collectively gasps, and Aelin just smirks and sips water out of a champagne glass.

-Once again, terrible pregnancy. Just awful. Her children are scared and worried when their Mommy won't get out of bed to play and train with them, and have to be consoled by Rowan for a while.

-Long and hard labor again, twenty-two hours. Aelin says girl. Rowan says boy. Rowan is right again.

-A baby boy is born with silver hair and green eyes. He looks like Rowan. Like, exactly like Rowan. It's uncanny how much this baby looks like his father.

-His name is Aspen Rhoe Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. (because it's a pretty name, and also the name of a tree, like Rowan, hehe) His older brother and sister dote on him at every waking moment. Adorable, and actually fairly helpful.

-Aspen looks more and more like Rowan when he gets older. Even his powers and other form are like Rowan's. His form is a white-tailed hawk, and his powers are ice and wind. Not a single lick of flame.

-You'd think they'd be done having kids after three but HAHA. This is Aelin and Rowan. We all know how they are. And with their children sleeping in their own rooms, they can have some alone time ;)

-Aelin gets pregnant again. It's the same rinse and repeat. Hard pregnancy. Hard labor. Rowan guesses the gender again, damn it, why is he so good at it?

-A baby girl is born with silver hair and ocean blue eyes. Her name is Evalin Elena Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. Lyria is 8, Sam 7, and Aspen 3. They love their baby sister and vow to protect her always.

-Evalin is definitely the fanciest of the Galathynius children. She loves dressing up, and her favorite thing to do is make crowns using her powers. She can control ice and flame equally, so she is always making crowns for her parents and siblings when she has control over her powers. So cute.

-Evalin's other form is a peregrine falcon. Lyria is a little put out now; even her baby sister has another form and she doesn't. But she's soon okay with is when she proves that her powers are the strongest of all her siblings.

-Evalin is 2 when Aelin gets pregnant again. At this point the court is like, ugh, again? but happy at the same time. It's just,,, they have a lot of kids.

-The pregnancy and labor is, again, hard. Now remember when I mentioned that Lyria was a large baby? No? Well, anyway, this baby is also quite large. But hey, all of their kids were big, how hard can this be?

-Hard. So hard. A day and a half of labor. And at the end Aelin has a sudden loss of blood and nearly bleeds out on her bed. It's so terrifying, Rowan can feel the mating bond growing taut because his mate is in mortal peril. Yrene makes the decision to operate. She does, and, turns out... there were two in there.

-Two screaming, silver haired babies are wrapped in blankets and whisked away while Yrene heals and heals and heals. At the end, she actually falls off the bed and faints. Rowan catches her and sends for another healer to heal the healer.

-Aelin survives, but the operation made it so she could no longer have children. Aelin decides right then and there, holding her newborn twins after nearly dying, that she doesn't want any more children anyway. Six is enough, gods, more than enough, and she's so grateful for them all.

-For once, Aelin wins the bet. She bet girl, Rowan boy. There's a girl and a boy.

-They are named Aerith Essar and Thallan Ress, along with their slew of last names that I was too lazy to type.

-Two more silver haired, Ashryver eyed children join the royal family. Of course, everyone adores them.

-The twins don't have any crazy twin powers, but they do have a secret language between the two of them. Seeing the two of them often makes Fenrys's heart melt, thinking about when he was a child with his twin brother. The twins are, without a doubt, Fenrys's favorite royal children.

-The twins have control over ice, wind, and fire equally, like all their siblings except Aspen. Their other forms are red-shouldered hawks. Nobody can tell them apart in their animal forms.

-All the children get older, learn more, and get more powerful. Lyria is like her mother, she loves to fight, she has an attitude. She is also very compassionate and loves Terrasen deeply. Sam is quiet, but watchful, and very educated. He loves to read and listen to music. Aspen is, like, literally just Rowan. Imagine a teenage Rowan without the tattoo, that's Aspen. Evalin loves all things beautiful and fancy, she loves being a pampered princess, but at the same time is always willing to fight. And the twins are troublemakers who, at the same time, have a heart of gold.

-The story Worlds of Fire and Darkness take place when Lyria is 20, Sam is 19, Aspen is 15, Evalin is 12, and Aerith and Thallan are 10.

#throne of glass #tog #tog gen 2 #sarah j maas #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius

[lilacmoon83]

Dashing Rose: A Finding You Always Vignette

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 10: A Kingdom Restored

"Hurry up Hiss! Get as much as you can!" John cried in a panicked tone, as he attempted to get as much gold and jewels from the treasure room into a travel case as he could.

"Sire...trying to carry this much gold will slow us down considerably," Hiss warned.

"It's my gold! And I'm taking it! I won't let that little retch give it to the filthy villagers!" John cried, as he threw another tantrum.

"Yes Sire…" Hiss said in exasperation. Together, with no small amount of effort, they attempted to carry a large chest out through the back entrance to the palace. He felt Hiss stall though and turned, wondering why he had stopped.

"Why are you stopping? We need to go!" John urged, as Hiss looked beyond him so he turned to see what he was looking at, only to find Fandral in his path, along with Rose Red and their army.

"The gold in that chest belongs to the people," Rose said, as she pointed her blade at them. Hiss cried out and put his hands up, dropping his end of the chest. John cried out in pain, as it fell on his foot and he launched into another tantrum, which continued with him sucking his thumb. Fandral shook his head in amusement, as John once again made a fool of himself.

"Dwarf! Dwarf! Where are you!?" he cried out.

"Oh, do you mean this bloke here?" Fandral asked, as he set the stone statue of the dwarf down in the garden.

"What? What did you do to him!?" John cried.

"You didn't think we'd be ready for him this time?" Rose asked.

"Yes...he hurled a spell at us and we reflected it back at him. The result was his own demise," Fandral replied, as John and Hiss were placed in shackles by their men.

"You can't do this! This is my Kingdom!" John complained.

"Wrong...this was never your Kingdom. You ruled when I was too young to do so and then conspired to steal everything from me!" Rose snapped.

"You let the library fall into horrible disarray and for that alone, you should be punished," she added.

"You taxed the people to death and stole all their hard earnings. This gold will now be returned rightfully to them," Fandral agreed.

"The people have chosen Rose Red as their Queen and you have just been dethroned, John," Zorro said.

"Take them to the dungeon," Fandral ordered, as they were taken away, with John kicking and screaming. Rose sighed, as he slipped his arm around her waist and she leaned her head against his chest. They had done it. The Kingdom was theirs and though there was still so much to do, for tonight, they would rest.

~*~

"So it's happened...Rose Red has regained her Throne," the aging man said. He was the Duke of Andresia and his family had long served the crown of Andresia. Yet his family's hopes and aspirations of gaining the crown themselves had never come to fruition. However, under King John, his family had grown even wealthier and powerful. He was a greedy, reckless King and it had allowed them much power behind the scenes and opportunities to take from the royal coffers as they pleased.

"Relax Renard...she may become Queen, but she is still young and naive. She'll be easy to manipulate," his wife, the Duchess, said. Unlike his portly appearance, she was very thin, even bony in appearance, with sharp features, making her look quite homely.

"But her husband could be a problem, Silvia. He is an outsider and has wisdom in his considerable years. Not to mention, he is nearly impossible to take down by force," he replied.

"Then we endear ourselves to them and work quietly in the background. Tomorrow, we meet our new Queen and we must gain her acceptance," Silvia replied and he couldn't disagree. Their way of life and continued tenure in power depended on it.

The palace staff was overjoyed once Rose and Fandral returned to the castle, especially with the news that they had taken back the Kingdom and John was in a prison cell where he belonged.

The servants and staff eagerly presented them with a large chambers, ready for them, with fresh linens and flowers from the garden. The room was also chosen specifically since it overlooked the gardens. The gardens needed serious attention, but Rose welcomed that work to come, just like she was eager to work to restore the library.

But for tonight, Rose and Fandral were relaxing together in their victory. So when she came out of the washroom, in a long, sexy red nightgown, she wasn't surprised to see her husband ready with a bottle of fine wine from the cellar. He had shed his shirt, much to her delight.

"I can't believe we did it…" Rose said in awe, as they looked out the window at their sprawling Kingdom. There was much work to be done, but this was the start of what she felt would be a wonderful, happy life together.

"There were times it seemed impossible, but we did it, my angel," he said, as they toasted and enjoyed a glass of wine together. Rose rested her head against him, reflecting on everything they had been through.

"And this is just the beginning," he agreed, as he kissed her tenderly. Their passion became overwhelming and it was a surprise when he swept her into his arms, before carrying her to their new bed.

~*~

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of happenings and developments in their Kingdom. Preparations for Rose's official coronation ball were underway and complete renovations of the palace were being done. John had let everything fall into terrible disarray.

Rose split her time between the gardens and the library with her staff. The garden quickly flourished under her watchful care and the entire, vast library, though it took weeks, was clean and dusted. Organizing it was years of work ahead, but it was a task that Rose relished.

While she did that, Fandral had his own task of training and developing a strong military. Though John wasn't much of a threat, he knew better than most, that there would always be threats out there and they could come from unexpected places. He devoted his time to making sure their Kingdom would be protected from outside threats, as well as inside threats. And on that afternoon, he would walk in on a very real threat on the inside and see his beautiful wife handle it with the prowess of a true Queen.

"Your Majesty...I knew your parents well," the Duke said, gesturing to their portrait, which had been returned to its rightful place in the Throne room now that John's had been removed.

"And while what you are proposing is an amazing humanitarian effort, it will ultimately bankrupt the Kingdom," the Duke said. He bristled when he heard that. This man was talking down to his beloved and chiding her as if she was a naive child. He was about to interject with indignation, but wouldn't have to.

"You mean bankrupt your special interest projects that do little for the people and launder what should be charity money right back into your own pocket?" Rose asked, stunning him and the Duchess to speechlessness. Well...almost speechlessness.

"Your Majesty...surely you are not accusing us of such heinousness," the Duchess replied in aghast.

"Oh I don't know...if I were to have an audit done of your financials, would I find anything to back up my accusations?" Rose asked, silencing them further. He smirked, knowing that this silence spoke volumes. He came to stand beside her Throne and she looked up at him with a smile.

"You have a choice," she stated.

"Your considerable wealth is largely made up of the unfair taxation that was pressed upon them by my evil Uncle.

"What was unfairly taken from the people by all will be returned to them. You can choose to repent and actually serve the people in your posts or you can choose imprisonment," she said, stunning them.

"If you choose the former, know that you will be monitored closely by aides appointed by me personally to ensure there is no corruption," she continued.

"I remember enough about my parents to know that they would have never tolerated your treason. And probably would have just removed you. I am giving you a chance to be better. Capitulate or go to prison. Those are your generous choices, considering what you have done to the people under my Uncle's rule," she said sternly. Fandral smirked at the looks on their faces and he couldn't help but add to their misery.

"Kingdom of Andresia...our benevolent, wise, and beautiful Queen, Rose Red," he said reverently, as he bowed to her and kissed her hand.

"I think you can do better than to kiss your Queen's hand, my handsome warrior," she said. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately and almost indecently in front of their captive audience. She smiled dreamily at him when their lips finally parted.

"Um...that will be all, Duke and Duchess," Rose said, as she dismissed them and her husband kissed her again.

"Well…I see you are taking quite well to your new Throne," a voice said, as the couple parted their lips and found a dark skinned woman before them, wearing a light blue shimmering gown.

"Are you…" Rose started to say. The woman smiled kindly.

"Your intuition serves you well, Rose Red. I am Hermes," she replied.

"We are honored to meet you, Goddess," Fandral said, as he bowed respectfully.

"Oh please...no bowing necessary, at least, not from my champions," Hermes said, as she waved her hand and they reappeared in the library.

"I know...it's in a sad state," Rose said nervously.

"That's not your fault and I see you've already had it cleaned. That in itself is an undertaking," Hermes said.

"I am very eager to make this library something to be proud of again," Rose replied. Hermes smiled.

"And I know that you will and that your love and commitment to each other will extend to your commitment to your duties to the library and your people. My niece is usually the one that champions true love and I champion knowledge. But it is good to know that my champions just happen to share a powerful true love as well," the Goddess explained.

"We will strive to bring prosperity to this Kingdom and due diligence to this library," Fandral promised. Hermes smiled.

"I know you will and I'll see you at your coronation, Your Majesties," she said.

"You're coming to the coronation?" Rose asked in surprise.

"Of course...and I'll be dropping by plenty from time to time," she promised. They smiled at her.

"We look forward to it," Fandral said, as Hermes disappeared.

"I shouldn't be surprised, you know," he said.

"Surprised by what, my love?" she asked.

"That a Goddess would choose you to champion. It makes perfect sense," he replied, as she looked down shyly. He caressed her cheek and kissed her tenderly. As their lips parted, he happened to look up and spotted a book on one of the shelves they were standing beside.

"Can it be?" he asked, as he picked up the book.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's an Asgardian history book...yes, it's all here," he replied, as he flipped through it.

"It's a beautiful language...can you read it to me?" she asked.

"If you'd like," he replied. She nodded.

"I want to know everything. We haven't had much time, but now we do and I want to know it all," she said. He smiled.

"Well...then we better get started," he said, as took her hand and they made their way up to their chambers for the evening...

#Snowing #Snowing AU #Fandral the Dashing #Rose Red #Dashing Rose #Snowing parallel #romance #adventure #AU #Dashing Rose: A Finding You Always Vignette

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

john is the one who sacrificed himself instead of mary/mary lives john dies/just mary raises sam and dean!AU

spoilers for the series in general. 

-

(sorry this took so long. i’ve been pretty busy these last couple of weeks. and this turned out to be much longer than i thought it would be.)

-

1. 

honestly, mary thought they were going to be all right.

the last fifteen-or-so years of following the winchesters’ exploits has led to the impression that the world is simply crawling with other-worldly creatures and paranormal experiences, but it wasn’t always like this. there was a time when you could hold down a ‘regular’ job, have a home and a family, and still be considered a Hunter. even the people who drifted from case to case worked maybe five or six in a year; often it took months to find and consolidate information, and sometimes even longer to recover from a bad hunt. paranormal attacks necessitating professional extermination were few and far enough in between that the general rule of thumb in the community was to treat every potential case initially as if it had a normal, ‘un-supernatural’ explanation. so by completely cutting ties with her hunting family, mary was reasonably confident that she could lead a normal life with john.

living with john... wasn’t easy; after the accident that took her parents’ lives and nearly took hers, he became even more closed-off than usual--prickly when provoked, and quick to reach for the bottle. this only seemed to worsen when sam was born--he seemed constantly on edge, drank more than usual, and rarely seemed able to hold a conversation with her while looking her in the eyes. this was the point where mary should’ve realised something was wrong, but she had a toddler and a newborn to take care of, virtually alone, and she had neither the capacity nor the time to follow up on vague misgivings.

besides, john always did come around. eventually.

the week leading up to john dying on the ceiling of sam’s nursery, cut open and burning, was filled with unseasonable weather--close and humid days giving way to spectacular lightning storms during the night. their tv--already a piece of junk, to be honest--seemed to be constantly on the fritz. john grew progressively more short-tempered.

still, mary didn’t think that--

that--

(he was so quiet when it happened. even with his guts spilling out of him and then set on fire, he only looked sad. resigned. mary thought she could stare at that sight till the stars went cold and still never understand why john didn’t say a single word.)

she stands now across the street from the burning wreckage that used to be her home, a wailing sam clutched to her chest while dean tries to hide himself in the folds of her nightgown. her eyes are burning from shock and the smoke, and she feels dangerously untethered to her body, like she’s watching all of this happen to somebody else. through it all, only one thought achieves any kind of clarity in the fog:

john knew this was going to happen.

2.

mary has all the puzzle pieces in place, but it takes her longer to put them together than it normally would, for a number of reasons. for one, it isn’t easy to detach herself from the immediate reality of the situation: that john, her john, is dead, gone up in flames with the life that she’d sacrificed everything to lead. on top of her grief, and dealing with the police, and curious neighbours, she needs to do something about sam and dean: it’s one thing being a single mother, and it’s quite another being a single mother who is also a Hunter. 

(and a whole another thing being a single mother, a hunter, and a campbell.)

she moves in temporarily with an aunt she hadn’t alienated completely when she decided to give up the hunting life. that aunt has two small children of her own, gwen and christian, and part of mary hopes that being with other kids his age would bring dean out of the shell that he’d slipped into after... after. mostly, she’s focussed on her aunt’s library and her extensive list of contacts in the hunting world; it’s been so long since she’s really gotten her teeth into a case.

another reason it takes so long is... well. demons are really, really rare, and a sign that you’re really, really fucked. when mary finally puts the patterns together and realises that they were omens, she is terrified. in her mind’s eye, all she can see is her father’s face from over a decade ago, returning from a rare exorcism. he was drenched in sweat and covered in flecks of blood, but it was the haunted look in his eyes that ensured she would never forget that night: he looked empty, utterly drained, like he’d lost a part of his soul. “i’m never doing that again, de,” he’d said to her mother. 

given what she’s put together here, the demon that killed john is so powerful that its kind hasn’t really been seen in centuries.

she leaves the next day with her children. dean is screaming and crying to stay with christian and gwen while sam just... cries, but all mary can think of is the dead look in her father’s eyes and john, burning.

3.

over the next several years, she moves around a fair bit, but always within a trusted network of hunters. she keeps the name campbell--it still carries some clout in the community. sam and dean grow up familiar with the hunting world, even if they don’t actively participate until they’re much older. dean loves it when they all come together for the bigger hunts; he networks so well with others and so quickly that mary can’t imagine he inherited that charm from either her or john. sam tends to ignore these gatherings, preferring to sit in a corner with his walkman and a book. mary doesn’t really begrudge his disinterest in the hunting life--but she often catches him engrossed in her books when he thinks nobody’s looking; hears him excitedly whisper to gwen about ‘revolutionising’ hunting by exposing the supernatural to the world; finds bizarre sketches of chimeras and otherworldly creatures with bright yellow eyes in his room. when she tries to talk to him about any of it, he becomes defensive and... opaque, in a way she definitely does not feel ready to deal with.

when sam and dean are together... well. they squabble like any pair of siblings would, but it’s when they work together towards a common goal that they astonish her. they come up with insights and ideas that remind her of cartoonish lab scenes--bright chemicals mixing in a beaker and producing something extraordinary with a flash-bang. it’s sam that comes up with the idea of making and selling protective talismans on their underground network and dean that works the logistics of it--painfully copying designs from sam’s research and carving and shaping and handling sales and distribution. they’re incredible together and sometimes mary thinks, traitorously, that they seem made for this life. for just a moment.

just a--

there was a time when they were much younger, and the grief and anger were still fresh and sharp, that she would watch them sleep huddled together, and think wistfully of all the hopes and dreams she’d had for her sons. this--a dingy room covered in maps and protection rituals, lines of salt at every windowsill and doorway, a paranoid insomniac with more weapons than common sense keeping watch--was exactly what she’d hoped to spare them from. the sharpness of that feeling faded over the years as she kept herself busy with a steep uptick in paranormal events and in researching the demon that had killed john. her boys, though sometimes different as night and day, seemed well-adjusted, all things considered.

even so, the day dean winchester, all of sixteen years old, picks up a sawed-off loaded with rock salt for the first time, eyes glittering with anticipation, mary can’t help but feel utterly defeated.

4.

(are you asking if mary campbell, an expert on demons who’s lost so much of her family to them, ever went to a crossroads, drunk and despairing and awash with grief?

well. she didn’t bury the box. she didn’t say the incantation. but she had them ready, and she wondered if this is what john had felt like--pushed, without consent, into a place where living with all the empty spaces in your head was more terrifying than having the devil stay there. where scrabbling in the dirt in your haste to sell your soul was vastly more preferable to having it eaten piecemeal by guilt.

she knelt in the dirt for nearly an hour before getting to her feet and back to her car. campbells moved on. campbells survived. and though it seemed like she’d spent half her life trying to run from that legacy, she was nothing if not a campbell, through and through.)

5.

a couple of weeks before sam’s sixteenth birthday, he comes to her one early morning, red-eyed and dishevelled, and tells her, mom i can’t sleep.

she stares at him, dumbfounded, for a few seconds, before instincts kick in and she’s trying to figure out what’s gotten her youngest to come to her like he’s hanging on by a thread. it turns out that he’s seeing things--horrible visions of strangers dying gruesomely--everytime he closes his eyes to sleep. it’s gotten so bad he’s barely slept in days. he went to dean first (and mary pretends she didn’t feel a jealous twinge in her chest at that) but nothing they’ve tried works.

mary tries to help her son as best as she can--on top of sleep hygiene she tries dreamcatchers and protective incantations from at least a dozen different cultures; she calls in favours with psychics who don’t manage to find anything. he still wakes up every night, a scream caught in his throat, sweat pouring down his heaving back. she even gives him a couple of sleeping pills from her stash, unable to stand the scalp-scrabbling, hair-pulling desperation in his bloodshot eyes anymore, the silent plea for her to do something, please mom, anything, please help me!

the pills work, but they are a temporary respite. sam collapses at the library one day, convulsing and screaming at nothing at all. he’s taken to the hospital and later admitted to the psychiatric ward; there, to her unending horror, they discover that he’s been cutting himself as well--a dozen newer cuts overlaying smaller, precise, white scars. it’s when dean says, i thought he’d stopped, that mary feels the full weight of what’s happened fall on her like a ton of bricks.

she thought they were doing okay in spite of everything, all the while her sons were suffering right under her nose.

sam was cutting open his own arms--

mary excuses herself to go be sick, but all she does is sit on the toilet lid, shaking, tears pouring down her face, trying to work herself down from a panic attack.

when she goes back to her son’s bedside, she’s made a decision.

sam is discharged with medication. it takes him a painfully long time to get used to them--alternating between being too strung-up to function and so conked out he’s a zombie--but they seem to be helping. he takes a year off school and dean a year off hunting, and they both go on a months-long roadtrip in john’s beloved impala. he looks much more relaxed when they return, and when he hugs her and tells her that he’s missed her, she feels like she’s been given a second chance.

after graduation, sam decides to go to college in new york, and mary and dean see him off with their blessing.

6.

four years later, sam misses his weekly check-in for the first time. just as mary and dean are starting to get worried, he calls her and says, in a choked whisper, “mom... jess--jessica’s dead.”

before she can really let the icy horror of that statement wash through her, he adds, “in a fire, pinned to the ceiling... mom, please. i don’t know what to do.”

mary does.

in a remarkably steady voice, she says, “i’ll be right there.”

-

( send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it!  )

#supernatural #my fic #mary winchester #samndean #sam winchester #sammy-wants-some-love #idk how this became 2k+ words but uhhh #here it is anyway #self harm cw

[sweetnessbarnes]

Do I Owe Each Kiss 2

Pairing: 1900’s Chauffer Bucky Barnes x Socialite Reader (Female)

Warnings: None :) some angst.

Summary: You are a prominent socialite who belongs to a very powerful family in 1913 England. You have just come into your prime and your parents are looking for a suitable match for you and you agree to a hand in an arranged marriage. That is- until you meet the sexy, rugged, and outright charming new chauffeur.

A/N: this fic is HIGHLY INFLUENCED BY DOWNton ABBEY. Events and certain scenes will be interpreted by me. I’m so very excited for this fic to dive deeper into the world of noblemen Steve and Sam and working class hottie Bucky! Read, comment, like. Hope you enjoy!!

“So Papa tells you’ve been receiving letters from various gentleman through the post following your stay in London. Including Sir Samuel Wilson and Sir Steven Rogers.” Mama mentioned to you over the noise of the clinking of polished silverware against fine dining china.

You smiled and nodded at Mama, feeling quite unable to produce a response that would satisfy her inquisitive nature. There was no reason for you to feel so anxious- so desrisive. But there you were, at the dinner table, unable to eat a single pea from your dinner that Mrs. Van Dyne prepared, and feeling as if a storm of u certainty were about to break.

Mama could always tell when you were telling a lie. So you summoned the courage and put up a front; grit your teeth and bare it.

“Yes, Mama. I’ve got quite a few correspondences. Sir Steven being the most friendly and Sir Samuel being the most humorous.” You answered curtly, returning to the mindless activity of shoving your food around in circles in the beef sauce.

Your thoughts ever tormented you so, the primal urge to scream and tear off your ridiculous dinner gown off your bones was defeaning in your ear. The pink cloth of your old frock from season’s past rubbed against the tender flesh of your inner arm as you set your hands down into your lap, before you could cause a scene with them.

“How wonderful, darling. Perhaps we should invite them over for a dinner this month? Or maybe for a shoot?” Mama suggested whilst staring directly into your eyes, her piercing gaze all-knowing as she had seen through your pitiful guise of complacency.

Papa took the opportunity to speak up from his dinner, his presence in an unusual remanded silence.

“I should think you would like to pick one of these honorable men, Y/N darling. You’d a marvelous time with them at your debutante events in London. I’ll write to them in the morning. We shall have Sir Samuel come first, following Sir Steven.” Papa smiled at you with a tight lipped grin, lifting a glass of burgundy wine to his lips. Almost in a cathartic moment, you felt the need to advert your eyes.

Was Papa feeling the same anxiety you were? The same feeling of uncontrollable restlessness that only seemed to go unabated?

“I quite enjoyed Sir Steven, he was kind enough to show me his collection of artillery in his library, if it were anyone you should accept a hand, it should be Sir Steven.” Tom piped up gently from the corner of the table, offering up a comforting grin as he studied the state of your horrendously hunched body.

Your younger brother Tom knew you better than most the family did, almost as well as Wanda. Tom has always been a welcome reprieve from the world of pomp and circumstance you’d both been raised in. You had a sense that he’s grown weary from years of this mind numbing lifestyle, but you both had yet to divulge that shared secret.

Dinner was over after an agonizingly long two hours. You’d rather your kooky dentist, Dr. Wong, to pull your teeth without any ether than to bare witness to such a repetitive ritual of dinner with your family again.

Wanda dressed you down for bed and tucked you in with a cup of tea, one lump of sugar, two spoonfuls of cream. Swirling together in harmonious balance in a good rimmed tea cup that had been gifted to you by the Earl of Brooklyn, New York. Some fellow named Strange, if you could recall correctly.

“Will that be all, My Lady?” Wanda remarked softly as she put out the last candle in your carmine red room, adorned in various lustrous tapestries and priceless tchotchkes collected from generations past.

It was straight to bed in warm and slippery soft rose Chinese silk, with a dainty petal gentle gown tied beneath the swell of your bossom. Not even a reading from your favourite novels could quell the rising tide of unhappiness within you.

“Yes, Wanda. Thank you.” You replied tenderly, burrowing your head into the side of a silk clothed pillow, rubbing your cheek against the soft fabric in search of warmth.

You were tired. Overly tired. But not from lack of rest, no. You were tired of the life you led. The laughably inconsequential life that you were given by your parents. Not that you were ungrateful for the ... comfortable arrangements you have been so lucky to have reveled in, but for all of your life you had always felt a hint of curiosity. Wonder.

A touch of despair at the thought of you being unable to quench those feelings that brewed within you made you rather melancholy. Most recently had you been unsuccessful at downplaying your own misery in front of your parents.

“Are you sure, Lady Y/N? You’ve been so downcast ever since your arrival back at Winterbourne. Whatever could I do to lift your spirits?” Wanda prodded softly into your troubles at heart, you too distraught to turn away her directness of speech.

“I just want to be free of this world of ceremony and frivolous things! Is it too much to desire of a life so different and so much more fulfilling than this? If I could trade spots with a pauper or a working woman, I’d lead a life more contended and joyful than I have now.” You wailed as you sat up in your bed, twiddling the ends of the ties of your nightgown.

You suddenly felt foolish at the aftermath of your outburst. Surely Wanda would see you as an ungrateful spoiled brat whom had nothing to tear up at.

“If I may say, My Lady, you have all the right to feel this way. His Lordship, although has provided quite the life for you here at Winterbourne, he has sheltered you from the world. You deserve a taste of freedom, a freedom of choice, tradition. A freedom to make a life of your own.” Wanda supplicated to quell the rising offense of tears in your eyes.

“Thank you Wanda, thank you ever so for your support and care. You are truly my best friend, my closest confidante.” You admonished, grabbing your Lady’s Maid’s hand with a tight squeeze of affection.

“Get some rest, My Lady. Tomorrow you shall go into London for your new frock, and on your own! Freedom comes in small bursts, but yet it is still freedom.”

_

The morning came in a short burst of goldenrod through your fine linen curtains, prompting you awake slowly with a tugging yawn through your sleeping lips.

You dreamt of nothing but the sound of the motor car and the feeling of supple green velvet beneath the pads of your willing fingertips. A wisp of engine oil here, and a dash of alluring musk there. All dancing secretively behind a veiled curtain of anonymity.

Wanda dressed you in your usual town garb, a wrap of yellow here, a soft pastel blue ribbon of silk at your breast. Mama said it was pushing the modesty of a young gentlewoman such as you, but you appreciated all the risks no matter how insignificant they might be.

You waited at the entrance of the abbey expectantly, anxious to meet the new driver. The last driver, Mr. Quill had a sudden and grand opportunity to take apart of archeological study in Egypt funded by Sir Thor Odinson. Quill had taken your hand in his with platonic affection and brushed a kiss; featherlight and promising. He would return back to Winterbourne with an artifact and a story for you.

The rough scramble of gravel and the lively jaunt of the horn caused you to look at the far end of the abbey, where the motor car traveled closer towards you with a mysterious face seated in the front.

The closer he approached, the more detail you could garner hungrily from his partially shadowed face.

A strong jaw, piercing eyes. Full rosebud lips, high cheekbones. A feeling of raw sexual confidence oozed from him; your heart raced at the sight of his thick biceps as he pulled the motor car a few feet in front of you. Your heart nearly stalled at the visage of his large sinewy form clothed in a green velvet chauffeur coat.

Debonair and absolutely ravishing; did he invent what it had meant to be effortlessly suave? He’d sooner have you swooning than to come up with a satisfactory answer.

Getting out swiftly, he met you face to face with a grin as troublesome as a young boy’s. Yet he was no boy. Oh no- he was a man. A man of your dreams.

“Good morning, Lady Y/N. I’m James Barnes, your new chauffeur.”

#bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #steve rogers #winter solider x reader #sam wilson #tony stark #iron man #the falcon #sebastian stan #chris evans #avengers #captainevans #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n

[crimsonslytherin]

I’ll Be Your Reason - Chapter 5

(First) - (Previous)  

Words: 2937

A/N: Please note I used a deleted scene for the beginning of the chapter. 

It was spring time and classes had started up again. Final exams were coming up and of course Hermione was studying every chance she got, making sure to invite Fiona to join her whenever possible. The two girls were sitting at the Gryffindor table across from the boys. Harry was looking through a book, per Hermione’s suggestion, but Ron was going through the cards he’d gotten from chocolate frogs.  Hedwig landed on a stack of books nearby and squeaked at Harry.

“Hi, Hedwig,” he greeted her while Fiona reached out to give the bird an affectionate stroke. Hermione looked at the owl before looking to Ron.

“Look at you, playing with your cards. Pathetic,” she said to him. “We’ve got final exams coming up soon.”

“How could we forget?” Fiona asked. “You remind us every day,” she teased with a playful smile to the girl. Hermione gave her a only slightly playful look back.

“I’m ready,” Ron insisted. “Ask me any question.” Harry smiled as he looked between the two.

“Alright. What are the three most crucial ingredients in a forgetfulness potion?” she asked. Ron looked at her before looking down.

“I forgot.”

“Fiona,” Hermione said as she turned to her.

“Lethe River Water, mistletoe berries, and Valerian sprigs,” Fiona recited without looking up from her Transfiguration book.

“That’s not exactly fair,” Harry mumbled. “Fiona actually likes Potion’s Class.”

“And what, may I ask, do you plan to do if this comes up in the final exam?” Hermione asked Ron.

“Copy off you!”

“No you won’t!” Hermione countered. “Besides, according to professor McGonagall, we’re to be given special quills bewitched with an anti-cheating spell.”

“That’s insulting!” Ron exclaimed. “It’s as if they don’t trust us!” Harry pretended to be shocked which made Fiona laugh. “Dumbledore again!” Ron threw down the card in his hand. Suddenly the four heard laughter coming from the students by the door. They looked up to see Neville hopping down the aisle. “Leg-locker curse?” Ron guessed.

“Malfoy,” Harry accused. Ron nodded. Neville made his way to the group.

“You have got to start standing up to people, Neville,” Ron told him.

“How? I can barely stand a’tall.” He almost lost his balance but caught himself. Seamus stood up from beside Ron.

“I know the counter curse!”

“No! That’s all I need – You to set my bloody kneecaps on fire!” Neville protested. Seamus slammed his wand down on the table.

“I don’t appreciate your insinuation, Longbottom,” Seamus said with a frown. “Besides, if anyone cares to notice, my eyebrows have completely grown back!” He pointed at them before he turned to leave revealing a bald spot on the back of his head. Hermione and Fiona tried not to smile. Harry suddenly tapped Ron on the arm urgently.

“I found him!” Harry handed the card of Dumbledore to Ron who began to read it aloud.

“-and his work on alchemy with his partner Nicholas Flamel!” Ron finished. Hermione visibly gasped and started to gather her things.

“I knew the name sounded familiar,” Harry said. “I read it on the train that day.”

“Follow me!” Hermione whispered urgently before she got up and began to leave. The boys and Fiona gathered their things and began to follow.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going?” Neville called after them. Fiona stopped and ran back to Neville, steadying him as he almost fell over.

“Sorry Neville. Vita ad motum!” She waved her wand and his legs came apart.

“Thank you!” he called after her as she ran to catch up with the others.

__________________________

Ron and Harry sat in the library at a table, while Fiona was across from them working on some homework, waiting for Hermione to come back from getting whatever book she wanted to show them. She came back with a huge book.

“I had you looking in the wrong section. How could I be so stupid?” she thumped the big book down in front of the two boys making the three jump. “I checked this out a few weeks ago for a bit of light reading.”

“This is light?” Ron asked. Hermione glared at him as she opened the book before flipping through the pages. She ran her finger down a page until she found what she was looking for.

“Of course! Here it is! ‘Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!’”

“The what?” The boys asked in unison

“Honestly, don't you two read?”

“Hermione, I doubt they’d pick up a book this big,” Fiona said motioning to the book. Hermione nodded.

“Hey,” Ron said with a frown.

“She has a point, Ron,” Harry said quietly.

“The Philosopher's Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It will turn any metal into pure gold and produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.” Hermione read from the book.

“Immortal?” Ron asked.

“It means you'll never die,” she explained.

“I know what it means!” Ron exclaimed a bit too loudly.

“Shh!” Harry shushed him.

“’The only stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist, who last year celebrated his 665th birthday!’” Hermione read. “That's what Fluffy's guarding on the 3rd floor. That's what's under the trapdoor...the Philosopher's Stone!”

“Why would it be here though? At a school?” Fiona asked.

“Dumbledore wants it safe, right?” Harry asked. “Having it here means having it close to him so he can keep an eye on it.”

“He’s not doing a very good job then if Snape’s trying to get it,” Ron said.

…

That night, Hermione, Fiona, Ron and Harry ran across the wet grounds to Hagrid’s hut. They knocked on the door and a moment later Hagrid opened it.

“Hagrid!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, hello,” Hagrid said. He was wearing oven mitts and an apron. “Sorry, don't wish to be rude, but I'm in no fit state to entertain today,” he apologized before going to close the door.

“We know about the Philosopher's Stone!” The four shouted in unison. Hagrid opened the door again.

“Oh.” He opened the door and motioned them inside. The four followed him in, taking off their cloaks and sitting around the hut. Hermione and Fiona sat in a giant chair while Ron and Harry sat beside Hagrid’s black boarhound Fang.

“We think Snape's trying to steal it,” Harry said.

“Snape? Blimey, Harry, you're not still on about him, are you?” Hagrid asked.

“Hagrid, we know he's after the Stone. We just don't know why.”

“Snape is one of the teachers protecting the Stone! He's not about to steal it!” Hagrid protested.

“What?”

“You heard. Right. Come on, now, I'm a bit preoccupied today,” Hagrid said.

“Wait a minute,” Harry said. “One of the teachers?” he asked.

“Of course! There are other things defending the Stone, aren't there? Spells, enchantments,” Hermione guessed.

“That's right. Waste of bloody time, if you ask me,” Hagrid said. Hermione looked at Ron, who was being sniffed in the face by Fang. Ron shuffled away. “Ain't no one gonna get past Fluffy. Hehe, not a soul knows how. Except for me and Dumbledore. I shouldn't have told you that. I shouldn't have told you that.” A cauldron over a fire began to rattle. “Oh!” Hagrid hurried over and grabbed something. “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” He put the thing, an egg, on the table. The group crowded around it.

“Uh, Hagrid, what exactly is that?” Harry asked.

“That? It's a ... it’s um…”

“I know what that is! But Hagrid, how did you get one?” Ron asked.

“I won it. Off a stranger I met down at a pub. Seemed quite glad to be rid of it, as a matter of fact.” Hagrid said.

“You won this?” Fiona asked. Hagrid nodded.  The egg rattled and cracked. Pieces flew off as a baby dragon emerged. It squeaked and slipped on an egg piece. “Awe! It’s so cute!” Fiona said. Ron and Harry looked at her with wide eyes.

“Is that...a dragon?” Hermione asked.

“That's not just a dragon. That's a Norwegian Ridgeback! My brother Charlie works with these in Romania.”

“Isn't he beautiful?” Hagrid asked. “Oh. Bless him, look. He knows his mummy. Hehe. Hallo, Norbert.” The dragon squeaked as it looked at Hagrid.

“Norbert?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, well, he's got to have a name, doesn't he?” Hagrid asked. Ron chuckled.  “Don't you, Norbert?”

“I like it,” Fiona said with a nod.  Hagrid raised his fingers back and forth across Norbert’s chin.

“Dededede.” Norbert backed away, hiccupped and blew a fireball of fire into Hagrid's beard. Hagrid quickly patted the fire out.  “Ohh! Oooh, ooh, ooh, well...he'll have to be trained up a bit, of course.” Norbert hiccupped again. Hagrid saw someone looking in the window. “Who's that?” The four turned to see Draco, who scampered away when he saw he’d been seen.

“Malfoy,” Harry said.

“Oh, dear,” Hagrid said.

…

The four were walking back through a corridor.

“Hagrid always wanted a dragon,” Harry said. “He told me so the first time I met him.”

“It's crazy. And worse, Malfoy knows,” Ron said.

“I don't understand. Is that bad?” Harry asked.

“It's bad,” Ron said. They stopped as McGonagall, in her nightgown and robe, appeared.

“Good evening,” she said. Malfoy appeared smugly beside her.

She brought the group into her classroom. The four accused stood in front of McGonagall's desk, while Malfoy was feet away, smirking.

“Nothing, I repeat, nothing gives a student the right to walk about the school at night. Therefore, as punishment for your actions, 50 points will be taken.”

“50?!” Harry exclaimed.

“Each. And to ensure it doesn't happen again, all five of you will receive detention.” Malfoy nodded, then his smile vanished as he realized what she’d said. He stepped closer.

“Excuse me, Professor. Perhaps I heard you wrong. I thought you said...’the five of us,’”Draco said.

“No, you heard me correctly, Mr. Malfoy. You see, as honorable as your intentions were, you too were out of bed after hours. You will join your classmates in detention.” The four Gryffindors grinned as Draco sagged.

…

The next night for detention the five students were led to Hagrid’s hut by Filch.

“A pity they let the old punishments die. There was a time detention would find you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeons. God, I miss the screaming,” Filch said. Draco gulped. “You'll be serving detention with Hagrid tonight. He's got a little job to do inside the dark forest.” Hagrid appeared out of his hut with a crossbow. He sniffled. “A sorry lot this, Hagrid. Oh, good God, man, you're not still on about that bloody dragon, are you?” Hagrid sniffed and sighed.

“Norbert's gone. Dumbledore sent him off to Romania to live in a colony.”

“Well, that's good, isn't it? He'll be with his own kind,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, but what if he don't like Romania?” Hagrid asked. Filch rolled his eyes. “What if the other dragons are mean to him? He's only a baby, after all.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, pull yourself together, man. You're going into the forest, after all. Got to have your wits about you,” Filch said.

“The forest?” Draco asked. “I thought that was a joke! We can't go in there. Students aren't allowed. And there are...” There was a howl. “...werewolves!”

“There's more than werewolves in those trees, lad. You can be sure of that.” Draco looked frightened. “Nighty-night,” he said before leaving.

“Do you see a full moon?” Fiona asked turning to Draco who quickly masked his fear.

“Full enough,” he muttered.

“You got us into this,” Fiona hissed.

“I-…” Draco frowned and let out a sigh.

“Right. Let's go,” Hagrid said before leading the group into the forest.

…

Only a few minutes into their walk Hagrid stopped, bent down and dipped his fingers in a silver puddle. He pulled his fingers out and rubbed them together. A silver trail smeared with his fingers.

“Hagrid, what's that?” Harry asked.

“What we're here for. See that? That's unicorn's blood, that is. I found one dead a few weeks ago. Now, this one's been injured bad by something.” Harry looked around before looking at Hagrid. “So, it's our job to find the poor beast. Ron, Hermione, you'll come with me.”

“Okay,” Ron said weakly.

“And Harry and Fiona, you'll go with Malfoy.” Draco grimaced, and Harry and Fiona nodded.

“Okay. Then I get Fang!” Draco demanded.

“Fine. Just so you know, he's a bloody coward,” Hagrid said. Fang whined making the three look at him.

…

The three walked through the forest, Fang beside them and Draco holding up the lamp. Harry and Fiona held hands.

“You wait till my father hears about this. This is servant's stuff,” Draco said.

“If I didn't know better, Draco, I'd say you were scared,” Harry accused.

“Scared, Potter?!” Draco scoffed. There was a sudden howl. “Did you hear that? Come on, Fang… Scared.” He shook his head before looking at Fiona. “Are you scared?”

“Hardly,” she said but Harry could feel her hand shaking in his. He gave it a slight squeeze and she smiled at him.

“I’ll protect you,” Draco said with a smirk making both Harry and Fiona roll their eyes.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she mumbled making Harry snicker.

The group approached a flat ground with gnarled roots all over. Fang stopped then started to growl.

“What is it, Fang?” Harry asked. Up ahead, a cloaked figure was crouched over a dead unicorn, drinking its blood. The figure raised its head, silver blood dripping from its mouth. Harry gasped and grabbed his scar, which was hurting.

“Harry?” Fiona asked. Draco suddenly screamed and ran, Fang following. “Malfoy you git!” she screamed after his retreating figure.

“HELP!!!” he was screaming. Harry and Fiona turned back to the figure as it slid over the unicorn and rose until it was standing. It advanced towards the two, who backed up. Fiona moved in front of Harry. The two tripped backwards and crawled backwards, Harry pulling Fiona with him and putting his arms around her. She ducked her head let out a scream. Suddenly, there was the sound of hoof beats. A figure leaped over the two and landed near the cloaked figure. It was a silver centaur, Frienze. He reared, and the cloaked figure retreated, gliding away. Harry and Fiona stood, each looking each other over for injuries before facing their savior, standing close to each other and still holding onto each other’s arms.

“Harry Potter, you two must leave. You are known to many creatures here. The forest is not safe at this time. Especially for you,” The centaur warned.

“But what was that thing you saved us from?” Harry asked.

“A monstrous creature. It is a terrible crime to slay a unicorn. Drinking the blood of a unicorn will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death. But at a terrible price. You have slain something so pure that the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have a half-life. A cursed life.”

“But who would choose such a life?”

“Can you think of no one?”

“Do you mean to say...that that thing that killed the unicorn...that was drinking its blood...that was Voldemort?”

“Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?” Firenze asked as he leaned down to speak quieter to them. Harry’s eyes widened.

“The Philosopher's Stone,” Harry whispered. Suddenly, Fang barked. Harry and Fiona looked up and saw Hagrid, Hermione, Ron and Draco appear a few yards away.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Fiona!” Ron exclaimed at the same time.

“Hello there, Firenze,” Hagrid said. “I see you've met our young Mr. Potter and Miss Gaunt. You all right there, you two?” The two nodded.

“Harry Potter, this is where I leave you. You're safe now. Good luck,” Firenze said before leaving. The two joined the others.

“What was that you said about protecting me?” Fiona asked as she glared at Draco who immediately grimaced and gave her a sheepish look.

“Come on, let’s get you five back to the castle,” Hagrid said. “It’s not right being out here,” he said before leading them back.

“Gaunt,” Draco whispered but Fiona ignored him. “Fiona, I... I-I panicked.” She continued to ignore him and saw Harry roll his eyes beside her. “You understand… you saw that thing-” Harry put an arm around Fiona’s shoulders before she did the same to him.

…

Once the group had returned to the castle the Gyrffindors went to their common room while Draco was left to return to his on his own.  The Gyrffindor group sat around the fire. Hermione sat in a chair near where Harry was standing while Ron and Fiona sat on the couch.

“You mean, You-Know-Who's out there, right now, in the forest?” Hermione asked.

“But he's weak. He's living off the unicorns. Don't you see? We had it wrong. Snape doesn't want the stone for himself, he wants the stone for Voldemort. With the Elixir of Life, Voldemort will be strong again. He'll… He'll come back,” Harry said before sitting down in the other chair.  

“But if he comes back, you don't think he'll try to kill you, do you?” Ron asked.

“I think if he'd had the chance, he might have tried to kill me tonight,” Harry said. Ron gulped.

“And to think, I've been worrying about my Potions final!”

“Hang on a minute. We're forgetting one thing. Who's the one wizard Voldemort always feared?” Hermione asked. “Dumbledore! As long as Dumbledore's around, you're safe. As long as Dumbledore's around, you can't be touched.” Harry smiled slightly. 

__________________________

(Next Chapter)

A/N: So there is no known incantation to the reversal/ counterspell of Locomotor Mortis (Leg-Locking Spell/Curse) so since Locomotor ("of or relating to locomotion”) Mortis (“death”) roughly means “death to locomotion” I figured the counterspell would be something similar so I’ve made it “vita ad motum” or “Life to the Motion”

#Harry Potter FanFiction #Draco Malfoy x OC #Movie & Book Canon #Slight Canon Divergence #I'll Be Your Reason

[lovinganvil]

lucia lucia lucia lu

always with stairs.  always with red.  poor poor lucia.

the first of a series of five opera fine art marionette boxes.

it is truly my labor of love/passion/insanity and tremendous conviction.  an idea that started many years ago and even currently has taken four or five years of more focused work to bring to fruition.  

the piece below is a marionette in a box i made almost 30 years ago.  ...crazy.  must be that new math.  

somewhere - i think in the RISD clipping library - i found a few vague sentences in an article from some obscure european magazine describing marionette boxes created by artists behind the iron curtain.    it electrified my curiosity and imagination.  

prior to that my mom had given my sister and i fairly detailed marionettes one holiday.  my sister's was little red riding hood and mine was a keystone cop character in a dark blue suit.  his mouth could clack open and closed and i loved to unstring and restring him, exploring the mechanics and how things made him work the way he worked.

another childhood memory/feeling/aura is the operas my mom would play.  we had a large stereo system with big speakers and a record player that hooked up to a receiver and double tape deck.  all of my parents albums and cassette tapes were neatly stored around the stereo system.  one of my favorite things to spend time with were the opera boxes - four or five albums per box that you would stack on the record player stem to drop one after another then flip the stack and listen to the other sides.  

one could do that with any five albums really (more than that and the last album would start to sound warpy) - but i loved the operas and the big books they came with and just the whole ceremony of it all.  

we had lucia di lammermoor, faust, carmen, madame butterfly, la boheme, la traviata, aida, and tales of hoffmann.  i know them all by heart.  well.  maybe not tales of hoffmann. she tended to listen to that the least.

then there was this film gil and i saw - i can't remember if it was albuquerque or in portland, oregon.  i'm pretty sure albuquerque.  but not positive.  the sensibilty and visuals - and the armiture used in the animation.  AND the iron curtain again.  i was hooked head over heels in DEEP.   faustas.  faustas.

then lurking around pdx in the mid 90s.  when we weren't bar-flying or slinking around shows at satyricon and la luna, we'd drink scotch and muddle our way through myst and riven (on our perfoma 6400) - i loved the mystery and lack of direction and even grueling, frustrating periods of absolutely no progress.  -  picking up (virtual) objects of no familiarity and having to figure out what they were meant to do.

and much more recently enamored with the room and rivers of alice - the same dreamy, ominous, melancholy submersion.

all of this.  it's all a cumulative influence.  the melancholy and mystery.  small, distant worlds.  bittersweet and not immediately clear.   

ultimately this is an art piece and meant to be explored with contemplation and meditation. the idea being it is a quiet, plain object that does not, at first glance, reveal much of anything about itself.  and if one is so moved, its secrets will unfold with no instruction/guidance provided.     but as one is not able to interact with it virtually, the detailed description is necessary.  please view the listing (here) for the technical description.

lucia herself is quite small, about 4.5in/11.5cm.  you (most likely) will find she requires very slight movements of the strings to make what seems like a large movement within her world.  but.  there are no rules and the viewer's (puppet master's?) mood is what gives life.

i worked with the tremendously talented carpenter Andy Arch to help bring these boxes from the ether to existence in our realm. i am eternally grateful for his ability, patience and ingenuity in decoding my (babble) vision.  

I worked with the tremendously talented musician Emily Hope Price for the heartbreakingly beautiful contemplation on Lucia's famous aria.   her depth and passion leaves me breathless at each listen.

a little insight on the magic of the music - we used the amazing adafruit components.  and i taught myself how to do some pretty fancy things with tiny sound cards, tiny amps and tiny power supplies.  

the aria, and the version i know best is found here - 

https://youtu.be/U3_8wz_xNI0?t=8m30s

 from a 2008 NPR article on Lucia di Lammermoor, a few words on the opera in general and then the aria's scene specifically:

"Of all of opera's unhinged ladies, the title character in Gaetano Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor sets something of a gold standard for going bonkers. Forced into marrying someone she detests, Lucia stumbles into act three, wielding a bloody knife, freshly used to slice up her betrothed, all the while hallucinating and rambling on about the man she really loves."

Back at the Castle, the wedding party is still in full swing. But everyone freezes when they see the look on Raymond's face. He reports that while checking up on the newlyweds in their chamber, he found Lucie, bloody dagger in hand, standing over the body of her new husband, clearly out of her mind.

Lucie herself appears, in a bloodstained nightgown. It's her big mad scene — a 15-minute rollercoaster ride of incredibly florid music — a challenge for even the best sopranos to get right both technically and dramatically. In her delirium, Lucie hallucinates. She imagines herself back with Edgard, about to be married, but she also flashes back to her dream from Act One — a dead woman at the fountain trying to separate them. The wedding guests look on in horror, and Lucie finally faints. Henri returns to find his sister crazed and Arthur murdered.

#marionette #lucia di lammermoor #the mad scene #faust #opera art