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boxofbonesfic · 7 months

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Title: Monster

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Orc!Bucky x Sacrifice!Reader

Kink: Teratophilia (Monsterfucking)

Summary: You draw the devil’s coin in the village lottery, you will buy another season of peace for your people—but you don’t want peace.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Monsterfucking, References to past violence, References to past murder, Witch Burning, Forced Marriage, Dubious Consent, Violence, Revenge, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Darkfic, Dark Fanfiction

A/N: as a note, this story does NOT share a universe with my other Orc story, Brave. this is another version of Orc!Bucky that i cooked up for kinktober. speaking of which, i hope you all enjoy the first installment of my 2023 kinktober ficlets and drabbles! mind the warnings, and enjoy!

Your wedding day dawns bleak and cold. The snows have come early this year, snuffing out the brief, brittle green of summer with icy finality, blanketing the hills in thick layers of white.

Your death day.

“Up with you.” You aren’t asleep, but Thera rips the blanket from you anyway. “Come. It’s time you prepare for your... husband.” There is no pity anywhere on her wrinkled face as she grimaces at you, her eyes dark with disgust. “Witch.” She mutters the last part like a curse you aren’t meant to hear. You do, though, and you bare your teeth at Thera like an animal in response. You are satisfied when fear settles over her features, her rheumy eyes widening.

“If I were a witch,” you hiss, “You would not stand whole before me, Thera Truthspeaker.” This time it is her name that burns in the ear like acid. “You would lay at my feet in pieces.”

She slaps you for the threat, and you taste blood in your mouth as your head jerks painfully. Thera grasps your chin, and you turn dazed eyes toward the old priestess.

“You speak with as foul a tongue as your mother,” she spits.

“Pity you couldn’t burn mine out of me like you did her.” At this, she looks regretful, cutting her eyes at you angrily.

“Lucky for you Demon King likes his brides whole.” She squeezes until you grunt with pain. “And unspoiled.” She tosses your head to the side before standing away from your cot before brushing her hands down her long, thick robes as though wiping your taint from them. “Save your venom, little snake. It is by my grace you were not put to the torch two seasons ago with your witch mother.”

You almost wish they had, instead of forcing the scarred coin into your hand. At least you can serve the light like this, the priest had said, his grim face illuminated by the firelight. You have not forgotten the way your mother’s body burned bright, her head turned heavenward, her mouth open in silent scream as the flames leapt from her blackened lips.

At least you can serve some good when he comes.

Despite her age, Thera’s grip is strong as she forces you up out of the narrow cot. The stone floor of the chapel is like ice on your bare feet as you stumble after her. There is an old metal basin in the chapel’s meager kitchen, and Thera instructs you to strip before ushering you into the steaming water. You hiss at the burn, but it’s the warmest you’ve been in weeks. Months, more-like. She scrubs your skin raw with rough fingers, and tears through your hair with the comb until your scalp stings. When you wince, Thera cracks her open palm against the back of your skull.

“Be still!” Your ears ring from the force of her blow. “This is an honor—a great privilege you have been afforded, though you are tainted and unworthy.”

The laugh that bubbles from your chest is bitter. “This is not your pulpit, Truthspeaker, and I am not your sheep.”

Thera paints the symbols for fertility and prosperity on your damp shoulders in perfumed oil before rubbing them into your skin. She combs the oil through your hair, too, braiding gold thread into it as she pins it up away from your face. As she is closing the bridal robe around your shoulders, the door flies open.

The priest practically falls through it, his face shining with sweat despite the temperature. The charcoal around his wide, fear-bright eyes runs dark on his pale skin, like dark tears tracking down his gaunt cheeks. His terror is catching, your own heart pounding against your ribs.

“He comes! The Demon King comes! He rides for the village!” Thera glances at you, her thin lips curving into a cruel smile.

“And his bride waits.”

—

You have seen a bride taken, once. You were young, six seasons, perhaps? Seven? You saw the Demon King ride away with her, her long, black veil whipping behind her in the icy wind.

Mother had told you not to go, not to watch—It’s barbaric, my love, we needn’t take part—but you couldn’t help yourself. She is lucky, she is blessed, the townspeople murmured amongst themselves as they watched her go. Chosen. She’d drawn the coin from the bag, the same pitted, pocked metal that the priest had forced into your trembling hands as you’d watched your mother burn.

Life for life.

The rope bites into your wrists as you tug uselessly at your bindings. Your breath leaves your lips in frantic clouds of white as you pull and pull. Your only victory is the creak of the rope as it tightens. Your teeth chatter as you stare into the fog. It rolls out between the trunks of the bare trees like tendrils, creeping along the snow-covered ground until it fills the air, obscuring light and sound until all around you is dim as twilight.

“Your bride awaits you,” the priest’s muffled voice trembles. “Take her and honor our agreement, as it has been, and as it shall be.”

For a long time there is no answer from the thick, swirling fog. You count each second, your aching arms stretched above you, the rough wood of the post digging into your back through your cloak. The cold eats away at your bones as you shiver. It’s not snowing any more, but the loose drift blows up into your face as the wind rips at you. The priest’s voice trembles as he begins again.

“Take her and honor our—”

“Silence.”

The voice vibrates powerfully in your very marrow, in your head and all around. He is near. You can barely see a foot in front of you, and now you are glad for it, glad you cannot see the face of your death. The mist swells, roiling angrily around you as your skin prickles with his closeness. You know not what the Dark King looks like, but you know what you have heard murmured in the dark corners of ale-soaked taverns and in the pews of every chapel of the Holy Light—he is darkness, he is devil made flesh and set upon the children of light so that they might know fear.

That the price of flesh paid by your people is all that keeps him from loosing his terrible fury upon the valley—

But you do not yet know you believe.

You are afraid, that much you can tell from the thundering of your heart and the staccato sound of your own breath. You cannot see him, but you know he circles you, like a wolf, just behind the curtain of smoke and mist. The silence is deafening, and for a moment you wonder grimly what the Truthspeakers will do with you if the Devil himself does not take you—

“I accept this offering.”

He steps sideways out of nowhere, the air simply parting like a curtain to reveal him. The Orc regards you silently, watching your breath cloud the air and disappear. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he doesn’t touch you. Instead, he pulls at the ropes. The priest knotted them tightly around the post, but when the Orc pulls lightly, it comes away easily, as if undone by his touch.

His face is more human than you expected, fierce blue eyes set above chiseled cheekbones. His tusks poke out from beneath his bottom lip, but only barely, more evident as he grimaces. You wonder if he is displeased with you, as he looks you over, and you flinch when he reaches out with one massive, gloved hand. He grasps your chin firmly, turning your head this way and that before sighing.

“Come.”

This time, his voice does not echo through the clearing as if spoken by a dozen men. He reaches for you again, this time drawing the dark veil down over your face. His horse is as large and dark as he is, and the great beast paws the ground as you near, and you see your own fearful face reflected in its strange red eyes. He chuckles at your reluctance.

“Afraid, little bride?”

You are. Truly afraid. Of him. Of the village. Of the way forward, wherever it led. But you would not be like Thera, like the cowering priests in their chapel. Your fear would not rule you.

You grasp the reins and fit a foot into the stirrup.

“I am afraid.” Swinging your leg up, you climb into the saddle. “And I am more than fear.” He smiles, the sharp, white points of his teeth gleaming as his lips part.

“Good.” He steps up behind you, and your face flushes with heat as he fits you against his front.

“What are you called?” He hesitates, and you wonder whether or not he will tell you the truth.

“James.”

—

The sun is low in the sky by the time you see the encampment, nestled in the dark, snowy hills like a glowing ember. You tense as you see it, going rigid in the saddle.

“I did not know you came to collect your bride price with an army.” You reply, and behind you James chuckles.

“How else would I make sure it was paid?”

You feel small and alone as you ride into camp, your veil still pulled low over your eyes. The sounds of music and conversation die as the king approaches, the garrison watching with curious apprehension. The pack parts for you, people stepping away from James’ horse with a respectful bow. He is King here, of that there could be no doubt. A great fire blazes at the heart off the encampment, and James rides close enough to feel its heat before dismounting. He holds out his hand to you with a thin smile.

“Come, little wife. Lay aside your fear and let us know your fate.” You return his grim smile with one of your own.

I suppose I always knew it would end in fire.

You take his hand, and James helps you down. For a moment, there is no sound other than the roar of the flames and the shrill whistle of the icy wind.

“She is small.” The voice is heavy with age, and rife with irritation. “It will not be her.” You turn to see the stooped Orc step out from the crowd of onlookers. She leans heavily on the staff she carries, the top adorned with an assortment of feathers and tiny, white bones. James does not look away from you.

“The fire will tell.”

He pushes your bridal robe from your shoulders, undoing the tie around your waist. The cloth falls to the ground, leaving you naked. You are not cold, though, not this close to the fire. The veil he leaves on, and the fabric whispers against your bare ankles. The old Orc hobbles closer, peering at you with her one good eye.

“You know what to do.”

You do—you step into the fire. It burns—burns hotter than anything you have ever known—

But there is no pain. You open your eyes. All around you is light, beautiful, glorious light. You lift an arm, and flames dance along your skin, leaving trails of radiant heat. You raise your arms above your head with a shout. They should have burnt me in the village. You imagine the streets burning bright with your flames.

Something is changed in you, something opened, something broken free, something you’d never even known was caged inside you. You are the fire, it is you—

The old Orc slams the staff against the ground with a sound like thunder, and the flames cool to embers as you drop your arms, panting. You are giddy with power, your heart beating in your chest as fiercely as the flames.

“Fire-sign.” She draws symbols on your face in red ichor, and matching ones on James. Her scarred mouth twists into a smile as she pulls the veil from you. “Burn brightly.”

James gathers you in his arms, lifting you with ease. He makes for one of the tents, pushing aside the heavy canvas hanging over the opening. James spills you unceremoniously onto the furs by the small fire, ripping at his clothes as he sets upon you with his hungry hands and mouth.

“Knew it would be you,” he mumbles as he lowers his mouth to yours. “Could smell the smoke on your skin.”

Gods you burn as he kisses you. You are no longer standing in the fire but you feel it in your veins still, like it’s part of you. Your head swims as though you’d drunk your share of mead, James’ touch only adding to the dizzying rush of sensation. He kneels down between your legs, his eyes dark as he drags them down your writhing body. He licks his lips.

“My fire-sign.” He cups your cunt with one massive hand, trailing a thick finger along your slit. From the bits of hushed gossip you’d overheard from the older women in the village, wifely duties were to be penitently endured, you were to feel pain and discomfort, not this, this—

Fire.

James parts your thighs until they are wide enough to accommodate him, and he bends low. The whites of his eyes barely visible as he stares at your slick center.

“What better wedding gift?” He says lowly, tugging your hips roughly forward until you can feel his breath on your cunt.

You lick your lips. “And what is mine?” You ask, and James laughs. You keen as he licks a long, hot stripe up your soaked slit.

“What would you ask of me?”

“Burn the village.” There are two voices coming from your throat when you speak. There is you, the you you know, the you you have always been—

And there is the fire.

The thing of smoke and passion and rage in your skin now, too.

“Leave nothing standing.”

James lowers his head to your sticky core, and wraps his arms around your thighs anchoring you to his face as he feasts. His tongue slides hungrily through your slick folds, and your eyes fly open a your hips roll of their own accord. You come apart then, shuddering and whining, but he doesn’t stop. Your hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling at his ceremonial braids as he tastes you till you’re dizzy. James finally relinquishes his hold, and when he rises his chin is wet with your pleasure.

“You wish me to wage war, little wife?” He asks, reaching between your bodies to palm his cock. You can’t look away. “To spend fire and blood for you?”

You nod.

“For that, I will require more than a marriage of convenience,” he replies, and you shiver as he taps the head of his cock against you with a slick, sticky noise. You whimper as he circles one of your nipples with his thumb. “I want more than just your body, understand, little bride?” His hand spans half the length of your belly it’s so big, and you stare wide eyed down at his cock.

“I will have all of you.” James growls down at you. “Not part.” You whine as he pushes against you, the blunt head of his cock pressing inside with a pop. Your lips fall open, a strangled moan escaping them. James’ claws dig into your hip, and he utters a curse. You’re already so full of him, you don’t know how more can fit, but James works his hips against yours, rutting shamelessly against you until you swear you’re choking on him.

The ache is so sweet it brings tears to your eyes.

“Y-yes!”

He draws out, leaving you almost empty before filling you with a hard thrust. James moans low in his throat, his head falling back. He cups your face with one hand, dragging his thumb across your lips. You rake your fingers over his muscled chest and he grits his teeth, driving into you harder, curling over you as he presses your knees against your chest.

Your breaths escape you in choked little mewls, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he drowns you in pleasure again, and the fire in your veins swells, consuming you. Behind him, the fire blazes more brightly than ever before, and James looses a low growl, his cock pulsing inside of you.

“Then you will have war, little queen,” he says, nosing down the side of your jaw. He nips at your throat, hard enough to bruise.

You smile.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fandom #boxofbonesfic #boxofbones #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober week 1

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sagewordstarot · 2 years

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Spinoza's Peacefulness

Spinoza’s Peacefulness

You wouldn’t necessarily expect a lady with a sword to be talking about a peaceful state of mind, but there it is. Hello and welcome to the TaoCraft Tarot blog and podcast. I’m glad you are here. Today’s card is the Justice card from the major arcana. At first blush this card has all of the usual admonishments to wisdom, fairness, balance and, well, justice. I was listening to news updates a…

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#coffee #email tarot readings #high priestess #justice #major arcana #pittsburgh tarot reader #private tarot readings #Sage Snow #TaoCraft Short Sip Tarot #TaoCraft Tarot Blog #taocraft tarot podcast #wisdom

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kingofthe-egirls · 7 months

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how about an God au with gear 5 luffy?

He's the sun god bored out of his mind until a new girl, Y/N arrives in town. Y/N is a new temple maiden by the way.

He's quickly enamored with her as she is sweet and kind to everyone, but he doesn't like that she has sutiors. She turned them all down though.

One gets handsy to her discomfort but Luffy intervenes with a lightning strike and people see it as an omen and Y/N becomes off limits!

One day to his luck, Y/N arrives to his temple to do cleaning at night, he appears to meet her. Saying he has been watching her since she arrived.

And with some soft coaxing, Luffy starts to spend a real steamy time with her. There won't be a part of her he won't touch! Or taste!

And through that time he makes Y/N his goddess! Which kind of Goddess is up to you!

i have done my best

SUN GOD AU: LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: sun god!au, sorta spoilers, sfw, cheek kiss, reader can't see luffy, food mention)

(a/n: okay so sorry this took so long, this is sorta what i have so far, i just haven't written the smut yet. it's sorta plot heavy, so i hope you still enjoy this!)

words: 1.1k

****

Sun God Nika is bored.

She's dusting the altar again, singing to herself. He peers down from the marble pillars, legs wrapped around the column as he stares at her working. She's wearing a soft chiton, pastel pink like the rose petals she sprinkles on the golden offering dish. Luffy'd much prefer meat.

"Hmm," he stares down at her, swinging upside down from the pillar. She doesn't see him yet. He wonders if he should say something, maybe get her attention. Most priestesses can see him, if he speaks up. She's singing now, murmuring little lullabies with a songbird's voice.

Luffy smiles.

She's pretty.

So he spirals down the marble pillar, letting his limbs snap back to his torso with a whack as he lands. He stands, grinning, his fists on his hips. He's shirtless, wearing nothing but his clouds and snow-white shorts. His sash swishes violet around his waist, as he steps up behind her with a shit-eating grin on his face. He's sending out rays of sunlight, he can tell, since she's all lit up sparkly and gold as he approaches her.

She's sweeping as she hums, brushing away the dried rosebuds and sunflower seed shells from this week's previous offerings. He likes the seeds, but since he can't eat roses he wishes she'd leave the petals out of it. She stops, suddenly. She shifts, as she starts to sense his presence.

She turns, and Luffy stands with his biggest grin to greet his newest friend.

She's staring right at him, but her eyebrows are furrowed as she scans the room. He waves.

"Hi!"

She screams.

"Ah!" She yelps, jumping in place as she drops the broom. It clatters to the floor, scattering shells and petals everywhere. She swirls around, shaking visibly in surprise. "Wh-what the fuck?! Is there someone here?" She's breathing heavily, nostrils flaring as she tries to keep her cool. Her soft dress sways around the scattered rosebuds. Luffy's confused.

"Hello?" He says again, head tilted. She stares at the space he's occupying, but sort of past it. Luffy waves again, but she doesn't respond. Oh. She can't see him.

That's a first.

"Huh!" He says, stumped. But then he gets an idea, and he's smiling again as he saunters up to her. "It's me!" He smacks a kiss on her cheek, expecting the swoon he usually gets, but she screams and slaps him in the face. She scrambles backward, swiping up her broom to wield in front of herself like a bo staff. She's flushed, chest heaving in fear.

Oh.

Luffy scrunches his lips to the side: he's somehow made a mistake.

Nami, his sister-goddess (she governs stars, currency, and navigation), would smack him upside the head for something like this. He frowns, sitting cross-legged in midair as he stares at the frightened human. She swallows heavily, starting to shuffle around to behind the altar. She looks like she's going to bolt at any second.

"Okay, okay, sorry!" He waves his hands in surrender, but then drops them as he realizes she can't see his gestures. He casts about him, searching for a way to calm her down. "Ah…uhh," he swirls around to the other side of the altar with her, sending as much radiance and light as he could. "See that? See the sunlight?" He asks hopefully, seeing the gold reflections in her eyes.

She stares.

"S-sorta…," she allows, still brandishing her bo-staff-broom.

Luffy snickers, setting his feet down on the marble floor. His sandals crunch over the scattered shells. "It's me! Sorry ya can't see me, I dunno what that's about…" He frowns, scanning over her face. She seems like she can see other stuff, like how she stares at the rose petals and the flickering candle lights. Or her own fists wrapped tight around the handle of her broom.

"Here," he says softly, alighting his fingertips onto the tip of the handle. He pushes it down, just so she can feel his weight manipulating objects in the mortal world. She gasps, but doesn't drop the broom. He slowly slides his hand down the handle, until his fingertips are almost touching hers. He doesn't want to scare her again, so this time he asks.

"S'okay if I touch ya?"

She hesitates, but nods.

So he softly traces the backs of her knuckles, before wrapping his hand around her fist. She's smaller than him. She seems to glow a little bit, being touched by a god. She breathes in a sigh of relief, shoulders visibly relaxing. She lets go of the broom with one hand, letting her fingers tangle with his invisible ones. She's soft as feathers.

"Doesn't hurt, does it?" He asks cheekily, and she smiles as she shakes her head.

"S'warm," she confesses, letting his fingers trail up her inner forearm to dance at the crease of her elbow. She scrunches her nose, "Tickles."

"Shishishi," Luffy snickers and pulls away. He sits back up in midair, legs crisscrossed under him. "So, what's it like serving me? S'fun so far?" He tilts his head, floating along behind her as she sets the broom to the side. She seems much more comfortable now, since she knows he's real. She's all melty and relaxed, like she's been sunbathing for a while.

She smiles dreamily, fingers playing in her hair. It's decorated with gold jewelry, with a sparkling jewel at the center of her forehead. Third eye, Nico Robin would call it. She's much better at this spiritual stuff than Luffy is, truthfully. But his temple priestess is suddenly flustered again, except this time she's blushing instead of breathing heavily.

"Oh, um! I should have offered you sunflowers, or something–"

"You're good!" He's sick of flowers, "Is there any meat instead?"

"Meat?"

Luffy flicks a sunflower seed off the gold offering dish. He sits on the marble slab, relaxing amid the candles with his head propped up on his hand. "S'my favorite! Any kind of meat will do," he watches her cast about breathlessly, a soft blush decorating her cheeks.

She's cute.

Luffy likes her, he decides, although he'd already liked her singing.

She shakes her head, comma of displeasure forming between her eyebrows. "I-I don't think so… I'd have to go to the market," she twists her fingers in front of her, tangling them in the soft pink fabric of her dress. She stares to the left of where Luffy stands. "Is…that okay?"

"Sure!" Luffy chirps, sliding his warm hand into hers. She blushes ferociously, but she squeezes his hand in comfort, anyway. He swings their arms between them as he starts leading her toward the front door. "Let's go!"

She stops, stricken. "Wh-what?"

Luffy snickers, "Let's go together! Cmon, it'll be an adventure!"

She swallows, letting him start dragging her back towards the door. She scuffs her sandals along the sandstone floor, but she doesn't refuse. "Okay," she says quietly, "I think I'd like an adventure," she smiles at him, sorta to the side, and Luffy beams back. He squeezes her hand.

"Let's have an adventure, then!"

She smiles, and lets Luffy drag her all the way to the town square.

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy fluff #luffy x you #sun god au #sun god nika #sun god luffy #gear 5 #gear 5 luffy #gear 5 spoilers #gear 5 fic #op spoilers

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slavicafire · 4 months

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had a beautiful dream of being the village's priestess sacrificed to the gods in hope of ending the horrible long winter. and as they threw me into the frozen river, from beneath the ice I could see their faces - a mix of sadness and profound joy in their eyes - and, suddenly, the snow on the hilltops melting with a great rush.

the sun came out, shining brightly at my face and breaking apart the ice sheet over me - and the river, now wildly awake with all the melting snow, carried me away.

#żmija gada #beautiful beautiful dream #also it was my idea which admittedly sounds a bit nonpractical for a priestess. there's only one me so that's an extreme and one time method

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lanitalay · 3 months

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At sea

Rhysand x reader

a/n: Hi my loves!!!! I wrote this to break the ice after winter break. It will likely have one or two more parts. Wanted to write some Rhysand fluff after destroying his character in Before I say goodnight lol.

word count: 1k

warnings: none

Summary: reader returns home after months at sea.

Part 2

Salt coated the railings you clung to while walking down the stairs to the main deck. The summer sun had dried up the water that had crashed against the ship all night long. Now small crystals blanket every surface on board. You make it down the wonky steps, map rolled and tucked under your arm. It had been a rough passage last night, the shaking had kept most of the crew on board hugging buckets, unable to control the bile. It was the most dangerous part of the voyage, the captain had to watch out for jagged rocks that were mostly covered by water or mist, towering waves and fog overhead that prevented the guiding stars to be visible.

It would be a matter of days now. If you squinted you could swear the shoreline of Velaris was on the horizon. This time it had been an entire season. The trek had started the day after the last of the snow melted and you would be back just shy of the summer solstice. You had never been gone this long from your home. The salt air was starting to stink, you yearned for green fields and pine scented breezes.

You had collected more samples than ever before. The botany in the foreign lands you visited was truly magnificent and different to what you were accustomed to in the Night Court. In your private quarter you had managed to fit around one thousand dried samples of leaves, roots, flowers and a few insects along with some living plants, placed carefully near the port hole and a plethora of seeds. Your favorite treasure was an exceptional plant that you had meticulously looked after because the bright violet color of the flowers reminded you of a pair of matching eyes back home. Rhysand. You tried not to think of him. You really really did. But in the flowers you saw his eyes. In the stars you saw his smile. In dark waters you saw his fury. In the sea shanties you heard his drunken laugh. A sigh escapes your frowning mouth.

He might have married or mated by the time you return. Not that anything romantic existed outside of your wildest dreams. But he was your friend. You had known him since the head researcher of the priestesses had sent for a field researcher, since she did not feel ready to be outside of the sacred library walls. You had been recruited because your father was a renowned explorer and you had grown up by his side. Every shore in Prythian and the Continent was familiar to your family. Every shore unknown called your name.

Rhysand was the one who brought you to the library the first time. He had wanted to be present and even gave you a tour himself of the massive sanctuary. Since then, each time you return he flies you to the library and you tell him an abridged version of what you saw on your travels. Sometimes you think that he holds you a little tighter than the last time he saw you and you stop yourself before even thinking that there is a glint in his eyes that indicates something more than polite interest.

The days pass slowly. Eventually, the familiar cliff sides and hilly landscape come into view. Relief floods your chest. You would be staying a while this time. Cataloging all of the new materials would take at least until the end of summer. Flapping sounds from above and you look up expecting to see the mast ripped but instead a gliding shadow figure high above. An inevitable smile forms on your face.

It feels like docking the boat took forever. But once all the ropes are tied and the masts lowered, the bridge gets lowered and you all but leap to the wooden platform and to the young High Lord that’s waiting for you. Sprinting you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and relishing the feeling of being on solid ground. “Welcome home, explorer” his smooth voice soothes your racing heart. Seconds pass before you let go and look at him. He’s beaming, his hair has gotten longer since you’d gone, his face is clean shaven and he smells of home. You open your mouth to speak but his smile- his smile is making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything other than his mouth. So you stall. Your hands ruffle his hair in the way you knew would annoy him and he laughs.

“I’m so glad to be back” you finally say.

Flying to the House of Wind was routine at this point in your career. You would land and immediately go debrief with your head researcher. But today Rhys had asked you if you were hungry. The grumble in your stomach told him you were. So now you were eating a lovely lunch prepared by the house. It felt decadent to eat anything other than fish and potatoes. You moan as you bite and the High Lord in front of you chuckles.

“What else did you find?”

“Besides the plants there were incredible creatures there. Some had fur and some had scales. I drew them in my books” you point towards the bag you had brought with you most precious items. He reaches for it and begins to flip through the pages of your findings.

“This is fascinating” he breathes.

“What about you? Is there anything new in the Court?” You notice his jaw clench for a fraction of a second. “Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head and closes the book “there are whispers of war”. Your blood drains from your face. “What do you mean?”

His face is now the face of a High Lord, relaying important information to a court member “Hybern has been making some advances, Prythian is too fragmented to stand a chance”. The war that had put the wall between the human realm and the seven courts had ended not one hundred years ago. Villages were still recovering. The Courts were still shifting in new power dynamics.

“What can I do?” You were no warrior. The amount of times you’d trained with the Inner Circle you could count on one hand and it had always been to appease Cassian. Rhys looks away “nothing, we are trying our best to unify and organize our armies”. Something akin to a thorn nestles itself in your heart “and how are you going to do that?”

He swallows and looks straight through your eyes “I’m marrying the Princess of Autumn”.

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