#soren hardly reaches his shoulder

[imissthefire]

the mystery of is soren short or is everyone else just freakishly tall?

#ike's huge like that isn't news #but seeing him next to stefan in their supp had me laughing #soren hardly reaches his shoulder #lil guy's eyes are in line with steffy's nips #also he's hardly taller than mist #but again ike is super tall as was greil and in the few sources of elena she def isn't short #so like if mist isn't short then soren is average height. if she IS short then he's just a lil guy #but nobody else is shorter than him #except maybe tormod probably now that i think about it #and like the beasts/birds/etc ARE indeed rly big so that's no help #but compared to everyone else in the gmercs? titania wasn't much shorter than greil. shinon's built like a string bean. gatrie is massive. #boyd and oscar both seem on the taller side of average #o shit rolf exists. soren's taller than him for sure bc mist is taller than him #but anyway i digress #so soren's either average height but surrounded by behemoths #or #he short #furthermore #when u take into consideration his parents' heights... #ashnard is Very Tall And Menacing. almedha i'm not actually sure but she gives off mega mommy energy so i'll assume she's taller. #the royal dragons are tall. like dheginsea is literally over seven feet tall (idk how i found credible source for his height but not others) #and then comes the implications of him being a Branded and how laguz aging/maturing rate is slower which supports the manlet theory #he's hardly shorter than kurthnaga as far as i can tell and kurthy sure isn't yet fully grown (compared to siblings and dad at least) #i'm thinking too hard about this #anyway #gabe plays #fe #fe por #nqp #gabe rambles

[raayllum]

Ezran is twenty-two when he kisses her for the first time.

Claudia stumbles back in a panic, lips burning and wide eyed. His office, her books stacked high on the desk they share most days, is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

She touches her mouth. "Why would you do that?"

Ezran meets her stare evenly, although with something defiant about him, too. Like he's not sorry about putting this, whatever this is, out into the open, like he's daring her to make him feel ashamed for it. "Because I wanted to. Don't you?"

"It—Ezran."

Her eyes sting because the truth is yes, she wants. She has always wanted more than she should in all things, has never been able to let go of anything gracefully, has left claw marks on all that matters in her life. So she'd told herself this one time, at least, after everything Ez has done for her—he's the reason she's alive, he's the reason she's able to be here with her brother even when his had disapproved, he's the one who gave her a place to grow, and—

She wants him. She can't have him.

"I'm too old," she starts because it's true and because she swore a long time ago she'd never lie to him. She's not going to break that promise when she also has to break his heart.

Ezran frowns. "Claudia—"

"And I'm hardly respectable." Just the reformed dark mage and daughter of a dead, disgraced king, with no dowry, no tangible ties to Del Bar, and no prospects. It's a miracle she's not a prisoner. "And the court would talk."

His advisors want him to marry the younger sister of the king of Evenere or Del Bar, to solidify alliances, to ensure peace amongst the Pentarchy. A smart match that can give him heirs. She's just a few years shy of thirty and ravaged by dark magic, and—

She doesn't want to be a reason his judgement is questioned. She doesn't (heart pounding) want to cause a rift between him and his brother. Callum has only just begun to treat her as a friend again. What will he think if he finds out she's courting his baby brother?

"I don't care what they or Callum say," Ezran replies staunchly, and yes, there's the defiance. "I love you."

"No, Ezran—Ez." She dares to take him by the shoulders, marvelling not for the first time that she has to look up to meet him in the eye. "You're young," she reiterates. "And it will pass."

She is not going to ruin his life again—and certainly not let him ruin his life over an infatuation mistaken for love.

Because it is one thing to be his friend after she was his enemy for so long, and his high mage for half the year when his brother is gone. It is one thing to dance with him at Ellis and Aanya's wedding last summer, and to admire the way the light catches the gold beads in his hair, and hum to herself after they've gone for a castle garden stroll together, and try to make him laugh during droll council meetings, but she can't—they can't—

She leaves before she can do any more damage, before he can grasp her wrist and convince her.

The next day, after a terse breakfast in which Soren knows what happened because she told him in tears, he corrals them into talking.

Claudia doesn't get up to leave this time, when Ezran sits next to her on Their Bench in the gardens.

"You know," he says, not wearing his crown for once. "You never said you don't love me back."

Claudia can't look at him, focusing on steepling her fingers together instead, skin too pale and nerves still too frayed after so many years of dark magic. "I said I wouldn't lie to you."

Ezran exhales. "Then why on't you let yourself be with me?"

"Because I don't have a good track record with love." She and Terry still write to each other sometimes, and he'd help keep her sane those first few months back on this side, but... They'd been too much, and she'd been too prejudiced when they met, to ever have something work. She swallows. "And even worse track record with you."

Ezran reaches up and tucks a strand of dyed black hair behind her ear, lingering. "Well, you know I like to bet on long shots, at the horse races in Duren."

"You're young," she reiterates.

"My mother and father were six years apart, too—"

"And whole, and bright, and full of life, despite everything that's happened to you." She folds in on herself. "In spite of everything I've done. I mean it; you'll grow, and it'll pass."

That's how it worked for Callum, and for Terry.

"I just don't understand," he says. "Why not even try, at having the thing that you want?"

"Because the last time I chased what I wanted, the world ended." And it'd felt like it ended again, when he'd kissed her. Like it would end again because she never knew when to stop, she hadn't thought she was being selfish before, either, and... "It'll pass," she promises.

Not for her, but for him. It has to.

(It doesn't. He's twenty-three when she kisses him back.)

#claudiez #ficlet #fic #my fic #bc i Miss them #and ppl are cowards #canon crack quartet

[blutopaz15]

rayllum week 2023

prompt: swords/coins

2k, rated t

Callum loves her.

He hasn’t said it yet, but…Rayla knows.

She doesn’t need him to say it, she’d decided yesterday. Once he’d pulled her from that pile of rubble and finally—finally—held her again, she’d known. She’d known what that urgent, unchecked rush towards her had been about, what the crack in his voice meant, what his nose buried against her neck was…and it’d only gotten more obvious from there. He’d hardly let her out of his sight back at the Spire, insisting on fussing over new bumps and bruises, on filling her water, on finding her food…and she’d known.

It’d been clear when she’d shown them all the coins too. He’d been right there beside her the whole time, his hand heavy and constant on her back while she wept…and knowing Callum loved her had made it all a little easier, at least.

Not that she’d ever stopped knowing, really.

No way could she have gone on without him as long as she did if she hadn’t been sure he’d love her still. She couldn’t have let herself believe any different—not when she’d been sobbing all over that letter she’d left him, not when hunting for answers alone had turned hopeless, not when she’d been all edge-frazzled on the outskirts of the city a week ago. Even when he wouldn’t talk to her that first night, even with how cold and snippy he’d been the whole way to the mountain, even when they’d yelled at each other in the woods…she’d known that underneath all the hurt was love.

She’d always had faith in that—that nothing she’d done could make him stop, that he’d understand no matter how hurt he was, that he’d care enough to forgive her, that his love was just as true and deep as hers—

…and he’s done nothing but prove her right since Umber Tor.

Even if he still hasn’t said it.

It’d been the same today, back in Katolis. Since they’d landed, he’d been there, constantly near…even if any affection was a little stilted still. He’d kept close in their hurried little council meeting, held her hand while Soren pried open the sealed door to the dungeon…

…given her his shoulder when pulling Runaan’s bow out from the dust had been just…too much.

And all of that is more than enough for her to be sure.

He loves her.

So, she’s trying not to dwell on the quiver now strapped to her back or the gold pieces tucked in her pocket. She’s trying not to think about the home she can’t ever go back to, or her torn-apart family, or the mission they barely know where to start with…and to focus on Callum instead.

He makes it easy, of course, Rayla thinks, letting his rambling about supplies soften the pit in her stomach as she watches him a pace ahead of her, halfway down the castle corridor connected to his own.

His footsteps still keep the pace of their day, never mind that they’d reached the end of their castle errands before setting out early tomorrow, but…his quick steps don’t fall all over themselves like they might’ve before. He rambles like he used to, listing off things they’ll need, still to be collected in the morning…but his voice is deeper, controlled, steady. Best of all, of course, is how he looks back at her, eyes warm and attentive and so very sweet…even if they’re a little less bright than before.

If his attention alone hadn’t made it clear enough how much he still cared, their errands all over the castle certainly had. Even when she was gone, he’d loved her, it seemed, judging by the drawings of her all over his office, his well-practiced tending to her shadowpaw in the stables, her favorites still on hand in the kitchens where they’d left Ez with Bait and Stella, this bedroom he’s leading her to that’s—apparently—specifically hers…

…that no one but Callum could’ve put together.

Rayla’s a little stunned, honestly, once Callum’s done fiddling with the lock. He steps aside, holding the door for her…and all she can do is just blink at all of it at first.

He definitely loves her.

…and she absolutely loves him, but…

He won’t say it, so what can she say?

Slowly, she steps in from the doorway, feeling Callum hovering in the entrance behind her, and turns to him, still not sure what’s going to come out of her mouth…but he beats her to it.

“I…kind of had a phase last summer?” he explains, the new steady timbre of his voice raised with nervous laughter. “I think I thought you’d come for my birthday. I wasn’t sure how we’d feel about sharing anymore, and I wanted you to have somewhere comfortable, so…”

Callum trails off with a shrug, one hand gesturing to the room he’d clearly spent so much care and effort on, the other at the back of his neck, which she’s sure burns just as red as his face…and Rayla swivels back around, setting down her weapons, still beaming and still not quite knowing where to start.

Maybe with the pictures posted up on the walls? Some of them she’d seen before—her and Callum, Ez, Bait, even that picture of her parents from up at the top of the Spire—but most of the assortment are new—things they’d done those weeks here in the castle, things they hadn’t in Xadia.

Maybe with the table in the corner? He’s set out more than he’d bought her from that shop in town they’d gone to, plus things she’d confided about longing for from home—a horn buff, those little magically stretchy hair ties that apparently aren’t a thing in Katolis…even the moonberry balm she’d thought was Silvergrove-exclusive.

Or maybe with the ridiculous monstrosity of a bed? She tries not to roll her eyes—the sheets are the same shade that Callum had called her eyes that afternoon they’d gone to the castle seamster, the open canopy dark enough to block out the sun like he’d joked she’d needed every time she’d slept late, the pillows fancy and soft and huge, and—

“Are these—” Rayla starts, unable to help the upward pitch of her giggling, pointing to the fluffy-looking rainbow row of button-eyed puff-balls arranged against the pillows.

“Giant adoraburr pillows? Yep,” Callum shrugs, flushed bright still, and, oh, it’s an effort to stifle the squeeze that all this sweetness deserves.

She can see it now: hopeful-if-still-hurt Callum channeling all that consideration and care he’d had for her here at the castle into this little sanctuary, spending weeks and weeks drawing and shopping, searching high and low for everything little thing, all for her…only to realize maybe a week out from his birthday what was obviously missing. He’d been adorable, she’s sure, all lit up with inspiration, scribbling out a rushed and messy sketch, tripping over himself to find whoever in Katolis could sew them…and fast.

Rayla picks up a yellow burr, cheeks aching from keeping her smile low and fond instead of tackling him the way she wants to.

“Like I said,” Callum goes on explaining himself, “I got a little, uh…obsessed. I wanted it to be perfect so you’d…”

He doesn’t finish the thought, but it sobers all the lovesickness anyway.

“Stay?”

Their eyes lock, level and steady, for a long second before he answers, eyelids barely fluttering over a layer of not-quite tears.

“Yeah.”

He looks away.

But…he loves her, Rayla reminds herself, finding the familiar-looking pile of folded clothes opposite the adoraburrs. He’d wanted her here, obviously—he still wants her here—and she’d only been alone because she’d left, not because he didn’t care, not because she couldn’t be here, not because he’d been taken from her.

Rayla can’t look at him either.

She skims over the smooth, stitched, red towers she’d worn instead, embroidered over the heart of his borrowed pajamas.

“Those might be a little small now,” Callum adds, his voice lowered again, less likely to crack like before.

“They were a little big then,” she shrugs, knowing that if she turns back to him like this, there’ll be tension she can’t take.

So…she flops down on the bed instead.

“Uh…you alright?” Callum asks, his footsteps shuffling farther into the room as she unburies her face from the adoraburr pile.

“Just getting reacquainted with freeloading off my favorite fancy-pants royal family,” she smiles, hoping that maybe rehashing a joke from back then will melt the icy mood.

He doesn’t tease her back though…he just gives her the look that that bit had always ended with. Callum tilts his head, brow lifted, looking at her through his lashes, and he doesn’t have to say any of it—that she’s their guest, that this is her home if she wants it to be, that she belongs here.

She knows.

He loves her.

Rayla pushes up to her elbows.

“Thanks for all this.” Rayla looks all over again, smiling softly; Callum thaws even more. There’s even a little swell of satisfaction glimmering in his eyes…and Rayla’s heart squeezes in her chest.

“No big deal,” he shrugs, and it’s not tension anymore—not that kind of tension, at least—in the silence that follows, she thinks, seeing how he blushes and fidgets in the quiet, shifting his weight, not quite looking at her.

He breathes in a sharp breath, like he has more to say, and…it’d fit, she thinks, to say it now—

“What is it?” she asks, letting herself ask but not quite letting herself hope.

“I just wasn’t sure if maybe you wanted to…talk?”

…and Rayla deflates.

But only just a little: this was its own Callum kind of love confession, anyway.

“The past few days have been kind of a lot, and—” Callum pauses. He knows—of course he does—the reason for her kidding around, obviously. He knows what she’s avoiding. “It doesn’t have to be big feelings time for us, Rayla. Just…for you. If you want.”

She’s never answered as automatically as this: they’re big big feelings, but…he’s right that she should and she’s missed even what she used to chafe at.

He loves her, and…she hasn’t had this.

“That’d be…nice,” she nods.

“Really?” he cracks again, and she expects the way his eyebrows bolt upwards, expects the renewed flush that settles across his cheeks when she rolls to her back, expects how his steps stutter closer when she pats the spot beside her…and, clearly, he realizes the reason she’s given in so quickly to big feelings time like this too. “I mean—good.”

Callum settles at her side, their elbows alone touching, and all of that melted tension from before is a flood now—wetness flowing down her cheeks, confusion and hurt and doubt coming in waves. All that she can manage to keep welled up is how much loving him has to do with it all—having him and him alone to rely on, having risked that—and she trembles long after she’s through talking.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly when she’s done, voice small—not that customary I hear your feelings that hardly ever seemed to actually be his answer.

“Thanks.” Her voice shaking, she stares at the purple silk above their heads, hand over the pouch in her pocket…until Callum shifts beside her, rocking up to an elbow.

“No, I mean. I’m sorry.” His brow is furrowed, the light sheen of not-quite tears over green again, and Rayla matches him, confusion mirroring his apologies. “I didn’t believe you back then and I kept pushing you to move on, and…maybe things could’ve been different.”

She’s shaking her head and sitting up before he’s even finished speaking, and then he’s upright too.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Callum. I just…didn’t want to lose anyone else.” She twitches to touch him, but…stops. She…shouldn’t, so she bunches her knees up instead, busying her hands with holding them in, to her chest. “I had to keep you safe. You especially.”

“...I know.”

Callum breathes, and she can’t bear to look at him, sure she’ll find the space between them just as strained as before…but then—

“Rayla? Can I…? If it’s not too weird?”

His hand lands on her shoulder, his other arm open too, and—

“Oof.”

Rayla whispers an apology but nuzzles in against the crook of his neck anyway, and he sighs, wrapping her up tighter as she loosens—only a little—the loop her arms make around his waist.

He loves her.

“We’re going to figure out how to fix this—all of this—okay?”

He doesn’t have to say it.

Rayla knows.

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #s5 speculation #rayllum week 2023 #rayllum's bad vibes rodeo #swords/coins #but only very LOOSELY #this prompt has no right producing something this fluffy but here we are i guess #also callum spoiling rayla my beloved

[tremendouscloudsofpiratesallover]

Bonds

It was a long flight back from Umber Tor to the Storm Spire, but Callum hardly minded it. It was nice to fly on Zubeia's back after days of nothing but walking, and even nicer to have Rayla's arms wrapped around his middle.

Unnecessarily, maybe, but... It meant he could feel her heartbeat, and that was nice, after almost... after finding her sword and thinking that she—

Nope. He wasn't going to even consider that a second longer than he'd been forced to. Not after she'd come back, again, and he didn't have to constantly worry or wonder if the worst had happened.

He just kept one of his hands over hers, squeezing gently whenever he wanted to remind himself that she was here now. That she was here, resting her head between his shoulder blades, probably hopefully asleep the way Ezran was up by Zubeia's crown, nestled close together with Zym.

Only Soren was still awake, looking away from the sleeping kid and dragonling and then to Callum. His initial smile morphed to a smirk. "Cozy?"

Callum glanced at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, it is."

"Aye, shove off," Rayla mumbled sleepily behind him, holding him closer. "You're a right dolt for standing there—do you want to fall off and plummet to your death?"

"Callum would catch me," Soren said confidently but quietly; none of them wanted to wake Ezran.

"I would," Callum agreed, his smile growing. "But maybe sit down, just in case?"

"So, does this mean you two are gonna be smoochy again all the time, too?"

Callum felt his cheeks warm, but he kept his tone light. "Maybe. We'll see."

Soren sat down with Bait in his lap, grumbling good-naturedly. Callum squeezed Rayla's hands over his middle, noticing the subtle changes in her breathing.

"Dozing off now?" he murmured.

"Think so. You make a good pillow." Then, a hint of smallness that tore at him. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it is," he said gently. "Just get some rest. I'll wake you when we reach the Storm Spire, alright?"

He smiled at the sleepy teasing in her voice. "Catch me if I fall off?"

He squeezed her hand again. "Always."

They touched down in Katolis two days later after a brief pitstop at the dragon queen's home, the sun still rising as Zubeia landed in the largest of the castle's courtyards. Callum scrambled his way down, the scales providing less of a foothold than he'd expected. Then he straightened up, smoothed down his rumpled hair and startled expression, and offered a hand to Rayla to help her down.

Rayla snorted, pushing herself up. "I think I can manage," she said dryly, making the jump.

And one of her legs immediately buckled upon landing. Callum's staff clattered to the stones as he caught her upper torso just in time. "I've got you," he murmured, hoisting her back up to her feet.

Rayla blushed, mumbling, "Thanks. Guess the rockslide did more damage than I thought."

"You're okay, though?" he checked, arms loosening. "Your ankle's not broken or sprained or anything, is—"

"It's fine," she said. "Those feel different."

"Okay," he said slowly, even if he didn't let go right away. "We can still make sure with the castle physician—"

"Callum, I'm fine. Really," she smiled. "A bit hungry, maybe, but—"

"Oh." He let go of her then, trying not to feel disappointed. "Well, we can go to the kitchens, then, and—"

Soren coughed, and they both looked up to see Ezran, Corvus, and Opeli standing there looking mildly amused to surprised or unimpressed. "After we finish telling everyone where we've been for two weeks?" he said mildly.

"Right. Breakfast, afterwards." Callum scooped his staff up from the ground and slung it along his back, shooting a tired Opeli and then Rayla an apologetic grin.

"Dork," Rayla said fondly, daring to take his sleeve by the elbow and tug him along.

The council meeting went surprisingly quickly, all things considered. Ezran explained most things, tending to be more succinct than his brother, although Soren chimed in to make sure his knightly heroics and recently acquired title of Gourd Guy wouldn't be forgotten.

Callum was preoccupied, his eyes wandering back to Rayla every few minutes. Rayla, to her credit, at least gave the appearance of genuinely paying attention.

"Well," Opeli said once everyone was done, looking as worn out as they all felt. "I can see you've had quite the journey. The priority for the rest of the day will be to rest and recuperate. Tomorrow, we can start discussions on what our next steps should be."

Their chairs scraped against the floor as they stood up, Callum catching Rayla's wrist in a loose grasp. "You said you were hungry, right?"

"Oh, yeah. I could wait till—"

"Come on. You remember the way to the kitchens, don't you?"

She hesitated, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I think so," she said.

Ezran slung an arm around her waist, butting in between them with a large grin. "Bait and Callum and I can show you! Come on." Ezran steered her toward the door, Rayla smiling a tad sheepishly, and Callum following with his hands in his pockets.

It was only after a hearty breakfast that they headed back upstairs to the main sleeping quarters.

"I'll walk Ezran to his rooms," Soren said. "Then I can show Rayla to the guest wing."

She looked at him, relieved and seemingly disappointed all at once as she smiled. Relief because she hadn't had to forge through an awkward conversation and had an easy out, as well as a real bed for probably the first time in a while. And disappointment because, well, the last time she'd stayed here, she and Callum had flat out shared a room.

"Oh, no need," Callum said brightly. "Nobody's used Ez's old room in ages. She can just stay there, if that's okay with you, Rayla?"

"Oh!" A faint flush brightened her features, even as she gave a shy nod. "Um, if that would be easier."

"Yeah! I'll go see if the castle seamstress is up, too. If we wanna wash up and change, or anything." He bounced briefly on the balls of his feet and then bounced away.

Soren whistled. "I'll just go with you and Ez till he gets back," Rayla said, fidgeting even if she was also fighting back a smile.

The walk back up to the king's chambers had to be familiar enough, and the tower was a distinct feature of the castle that it was easy to pick out.

Ezran gave them both hugs and then picked up Bait. "I'll see you guys at lunch," he yawned.

"See you," Rayla smiled, giving him another wave before he shut the door. She exhaled, shoulders slumping with fatigue as soon as she didn't have to put on a show for Ez.

"So, uh... you and Callum have seemed a lot better," Soren began as they meandered into the hall and down the stairwell. "Since Umber Tor."

"Yeah. I guess." She played with her hair again, still standoffish. She wouldn't face him as they entered the main halls.

"He could barely say your name, you know. While you were gone."

Rayla glanced at him, pursing her lips. Her eyes shone with guilt. "Soren, I know I hurt him. I knew it would, I—"

"Then why'd you do it? Cause I was also concerned about my dad, y'know? My sister. But I didn't leave."

Her face hardened. "Soren, I'm not having this discussion with you."

"I'm just saying, if you're planning to leave again—"

"I'm not. I would never—" She huffed, glaring at him. "Everything I've done has been to keep the boys safe. Including going after Viren. Both times. And Callum understands that. So don't trust me anymore, or whatever. I'm used to that."

"I'm just saying," Soren repeated more irritably, "he was angry and upset for two years, Rayla, and we had to deal with it. You've been back for like a week and he's already basically over it, just make sure you guys actually get your shit together this time. Don't run away from talking or in general and—"

"I've wanted to talk this whole time," she said, "to him, not to you. Just drop it, Soren, please—"

They'd reached the princes' doors now, Rayla arms crossed over her chest.

"You didn't even have the courage to face him when you left," Soren said haughtily. "Should I not think that you're being a coward again now too when he's already doting over you again?"

Her annoyance faded, replaced by something angrier and more raw, as she swallowed. "I am a coward," she acknowledged, "but I—"

"Soren," Callum's voice was firm, but not sharp or thunderous, as he approached them. He placed a gentle hand on Rayla's shoulder. "I understand you're trying to look out for me, but that's not a fair thing to say to Rayla."

Soren blinked. "Callum, I just meant—"

"I know what you meant," Callum said calmly. "And I appreciate your concern, but my relationship with Rayla is our business. We're working through things in our own way and at our own pace."

He turned to Rayla, his expression softening. "And you're not a coward, Rayla. You're one of the bravest people I know."

Rayla managed a small smile, leaning into his touch. "Thanks, Callum."

Callum looked back at Soren. "I know the past two years have been hard on all of us, and I'm grateful for your support. But please, trust me to handle this. And trust Rayla, too. She's here, and she's staying."

Soren held up his hands, taking a step back. "Okay. I'm sorry, Rayla. I shouldn't have said that."

Rayla nodded. "It's okay, Soren. I understand."

Callum smiled at both of them. "Why don't we all take some time to rest and regroup? It's been a long journey, and we could all use a break."

Soren agreed, heading off to attend to his Crownguard duties. Callum and Rayla stepped into the joined bedrooms, Callum's hand still resting on Rayla's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

Rayla nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for standing up for me."

"Always," Callum said, pulling her into a hug. "We're in this together, remember?"

Rayla smiled into his shoulder. "I remember."

They spent the rest of the day resting and settling back into the castle. Soren gave them space, realizing that Callum and Rayla needed time to find their footing again.

That evening, Callum found Soren in the courtyard. "Hey," he said, sitting down beside him. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I know you were just trying to be a good friend."

Soren shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I overstepped. I just... I saw how much you were hurting, and I didn't want to see you go through that again."

Callum smiled. "I know. And I appreciate it, really. But Rayla and I, we're going to be okay. We just need time."

Soren nodded. "I understand. And for what it's worth, I'm glad she's back. I've never seen you happier than when you're with her."

Callum's smile grew. "Thanks, Soren. That means a lot."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sun set over the castle walls. Things weren't perfect, but they were getting better. And with time, patience, and understanding, they would all heal.

Together.

#callum #rayla #soren #ezran #rayllum #callum x soren

[separatist-apologist]

The Kids Aren't Alright

And in the end, I'd do it all again. I think you're my best friend

Summary: Set twenty-eight years after Call It What You Want To, Day Court Prince and Princess Ivy and Soren Spell-Cleaver are left to deal with consequences of their parents decisions.

Note: ACOTAR next-gen. Every odd chapter is Ivy, every even is Soren.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | AO3

Chapter 3: IVY

Ivy had never been more tense in her entire life. Soren and his fucking mating bond had turned what promised to be a good day into a nightmare. The fight between Aine and Sage and then learning her parents were going to have another baby just compounded her stress until Ivy all but limped back to her bedroom. She felt as if she’d been physically beaten into the ground. Ivy had forgotten about Alexander until she heard a knock on her door. 

Ivy had just stepped out of the bath and had been drying her hair when she heard it. Wrapping a silken pink robe around her body, she plodded to the wide set of double doors and revealed a practically simmering Alexander.

“Oh,” she breathed, drinking in his large form. “I forgot about you.”

His face fell. “I can–”

“No,” she said quickly. If she sent him away tonight, Ivy would back down. “It’s been a long day, that’s all. Please come inside.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. Alexander stepped into her bedroom, looking around with curiosity. What did his room back in Spring Court look like, she wondered. Her own bedroom was awash in soft pink and gold and cream, designed by her mother when she’d been a toddling baby. Ivy still liked it. 

Alexander, dressed in a grass green tunic and white pants half hidden in his black, knee high boots, felt like he belonged there, too. Maybe it was the glow of his tanned skin or the way the faelights gilded against his blonde hair, but Ivy could imagine him in her room as a permanent fixture. 

She shook the thought when those pine colored eyes turned back to her, narrowed and focused on only her. “You look tired,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Like no one takes care of you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.” She meant to snap it at him, but something about those words made her chest ache. He reached out a broad hand, cupping her face.

“No?”

“No,” she whispered, hardly believable given how she leaned into his touch. Alexander brushed his thumb over her lips before dropping his hand.

“Then why am I here, Ivy?”

“To…” she swallowed, practically drowning in that predatory look on his face. 

“Say what you need,” he murmured. “Or I’ll go back into the city.”

Temper flared in her chest. “And do what? Fuck me out of your system?”

His mouth curled into a cruel smile. “I don’t think that’s possible…but I’ll sure give it a try.”

He stepped closer, until his body was all but pressed against her own. He carded a hand through her wild curls, back to stroking her face. “Say it, Ivy.”

“I want you to fuck me, Alex.”

He groaned, not balking at the nickname she hadn’t meant to offer up. Alexander felt so formal, so stiff, but Alex felt like her friend. Like someone who touched her with the softness he was offering her at that moment. He pushed her back against the bed, her legs touching the wood frame, before lowering his mouth to kiss her.

Want slid through Ivy’s stomach, overwhelming her with its ferocity. She reached for his broad shoulders, holding him close as his lips slid over her own, soft and sweet and utterly overwhelming. He tasted masculine and heady, that scent of his edged with the salt of his own desire. 

His tongue swept over the seam of her mouth, practically begging her to open for him. Ivy did, curious and needy and when he pushed behind her teeth, Ivy couldn’t stifle her moan. His free hand snaked around her waist, yanking her hard against his muscular frame. 

She didn’t realize he was taking them both to the bed until her head hit the pillow behind her. He cradled the back of her head, as if the softness might hurt her and fuck if Ivy didn’t want to be hurt. Maybe a little, anyway. 

Especially when he ground himself against her, letting her feel proof of his arousal in his trousers.

“Off,” she begged, tugging at his tunic. Alex rose up on his knees and pulled both shirt and tunic up over his head. He was just as she remembered from before–the first naked male she’d ever seen. Ivy surged upwards, unsure what possessed her, and licked the center of his abdomen. Alex shuddered, sinking his hand in her still damp curls.

“I would have taken you that day in Autumn,” he groaned, pushing her back for another messy kiss. “If I had known you wanted to be touched, I would have fucked you against the trees.”

“Maybe you should have,” she agreed, shoving out of her robe so she was completely naked beneath him.

Alex paused, his hungry eyes sweeping over her form. “I have regrets,” he admitted, reaching for one of her breasts. His hands were so large they seemed to engulf her. Rough skin from holding blades his whole life scraped exquisitely over her sensitive flesh and when his fingers pinched her nipple, Ivy whimpered in response.

“Needy,” he murmured, licking the column of her neck. “No one takes good care of you, do they?”

She writhed against his thigh, practically riding it as he worked her. She needed him to move his fingers lower, touch between her legs like she so often did at night. Alex was in no hurry, kissing and nipping at her skin down, down, down. 

His tongue replaced his fingers, lapping at her nipple until Ivy was close to begging. She didn’t know what he liked, but she was pretty sure begging Alexander of Spring Court might break something fundamental about her. 

“Tell me what you saw in the alley,” Alex whispered, looking up at her. Ivy blinked. What else had he been up to? Jealousy punched her in the gut as she realized he must have fucked that female, too. He’d probably been with a lot of them. She raised her hands to shove him off her, to end this before she caught herself. 

Who cared?

“You had your mouth between her legs,” Ivy managed, carding her fingers through his silken golden hair instead. His eyes fluttered shut and he pressed a kiss against her stomach. 

“Is that what you want?” he questioned, hands running down her legs. He pushed them open, settling fully between her thighs. The sight was practically holy—how often was a future High Lord on his knees for her? 

“Yes,” she admitted, privately delighted when he ran his nose up the seam of her thigh to inhale her scent. 

“Good,” Alex whispered, his breath fanning against her pussy. “I’ve been thinking about eating you out since you agreed this morning.”

“Re—” her question choked into nothing, his tongue silencing her. Alex groaned, fingers digging against her skin rough enough to leave a bruise. Ivy wondered if he’d let her tell him her name if they were strangers, or if he’d merely hoist her up against a brick wall and lick at her until she fell to pieces. 

“Alex,” Ivy panted, grinding her hips against his face to keep him exactly where he was.

“Don’t ever stop saying my name like that,” he moaned, sucking and licking at her clit until Ivy was practically sobbing. 

“Alex,” she whispered, watching him grind his still clothed lower half against her sheets. She wanted to see him utterly naked, wanted to taste him like he was her. Pleasure built hot, driven by his frantic mouth and the way he was kissing her cunt. Alex ate like she was the finest meal he’d ever tasted and for all Ivy knew, she was. 

Alex drew her clit in his mouth, sucking and licking all at once and Ivy was gone. It was like exploding and becoming nothing all at once. Her body went hot and tight, arching upwards so violently even her toes curled. She ripped at his hair, a silent scream trapped in her throat. Alex snarled, tongue invading her pussy, lapping up her release and fucking her with his tongue until she was boneless and wrung out.

“Come here, come here,” she panted, pulling at his muscular biceps. She kissed him desperately, tasting her own orgasm on his lips as she pulled at the clasps of his pants. 

“Alex,” she pleaded, trying to kiss him while getting him fully undressed. Who was she, she wondered? What kind of female had she become that she wanted him this badly? “Alex, I want to taste you.”

“Cauldron boil me,” he rasped, freeing himself from his pants while Ivy raised up on her elbows to look. She couldn’t compare him to much, and as she drank in the thick, long length of him, she wondered if she’d ever want to. Males and the size of their cocks were a preoccupation even the Day Court princess wasn’t spared. She’d heard endless talk of it over the years. Who was bigger, did it matter, on and on. Alex didn’t seem to suffer any of those insecurities. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered when she pushed against his flat stomach, forcing him back against the end of the bed so she could take a turn at crawling between his legs.

“You said we could do anything I liked,” she reminded him, though that wasn’t entirely what he’d said. He’d promised her they could fuck any way she liked. 

Alex scooped up her wild mass of curls, thumbs rubbing the temples of her forehead. “Not your first time,” he whispered, hardly fighting when she took him in her hand. She would have needed four to cover him fully, her fingers just barely fitting around his shaft. Ivy wondered what it would feel like when he pushed himself inside her. 

Just like he had done, Ivy licked up the length of him, eyes locked on his handsome face. Alex was watching her too, shuddering almost violently at that first touch. She felt his claws prick against her scalp, not sharp enough to wound. Something about the threat of his magic spurred her forward, convincing her to lick the beaded moisture against the blunt head of his cock without really thinking about what or why.

It was instinct that drove her. Some innate desire to please him like he’d done for her. After all, Ivy’s cunt was still pulsating from her orgasm and already she wanted more. She pressed her thighs together, chasing any little bit of friction desperately. 

And she liked it. More than any revelation was the one that she liked the salty, almost earthen taste of him. Even the stretch of her jaw required to accommodate him was good, a pleasant sort of ache she adjusted to quickly. She could take maybe a third of him before she had to use her hand to make up for the rest and if Alex cared, he certainly didn’t let it show. He was panting, fingers sliding through her hair.

“You suck me so well, Ivy, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough and guttural. “Gods, your mouth…”

Had he ever been as verbose as he was when they were intimate like this? She could maybe count on one hand the conversations they’d had before, but now Alex was chatty. Practically bursting with praise. She liked it, too. Alex had asked if no one was treating her well and though they did, technically, when was the last time someone had said she did anything well? It was merely an expectation.

Maybe that was why she wanted to please him. He wasn’t stingy with his praise, didn’t expect perfection from her. Ivy swallowed him down, bobbing her head over and over, twisting her wrist until Alex—warrior from Spring, future High Lord—whimpered at her touch. Their eyes met, some strange magic sparking between them.

“I’m going to come,” he warned her. She merely hummed her approval, redoubling her efforts until his hips jerked of their own accord, spilling that same salty liquid into the back of her throat. 

All of it was filthy and wrong and Ivy liked every single moment of it. 

It was Alex’s turn to beg her to come to him, to push her back to the bed, legs spread wide open, while he chased the taste of himself in her mouth. Ivy didn’t realize he was lining himself up with her until he pushed…and pushed, and pushed. She arched against the small pinch of pain, trapped under his larger body and his mouth that didn’t relent, even when she cried out. 

“That’s it,” Alex praised, pulling himself out slowly. Ivy moaned, trying to acclimate herself to the sensation of his cock buried in her body. Split in two, utterly filled, and somehow desperate for more. “You take my cock so well, Ivy. Do you feel that?”

She whined, lifting her hips to meet him as he thrust back into her.

“Feel how tight you are,” he panted, teeth scraping over her neck. She could feel his fangs gliding over sensitive skin, dragging to her collarbone. “Feel how wet you are. For me, Ivy. Are you my good girl?”

Ivy dragged her nails down his back, wanting to offer him a small sting of pain like he was giving her. Legs wrapped around his hips, Ivy dug her heels into his ass, making that next thrust slam roughly into her.

They both exhaled in time, staring at the other. Alex blinked, mouth parted. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to fuck you hard?”

“Yes,” she whined.

“Let go for me,” he whispered, increasing his pace until she was certain he was going to bruise her. “Let go, baby.”

No one had ever asked her to do that. Ivy didn’t think she knew how. But Alex’s large hand came around her throat, squeezing softly. Lips against her ear, he growled it again. “Let go, Ivy.” Ivy exhaled and Alex squeezed tighter. It was enough to draw another orgasm out of her. She forgot she was so supposed to stay quiet, that they were being secretive. Alex swallowed her cry, fucking her roughly. The snap of his hips invaded her senses, overtaking her until she knew nothing else. And when he came, kissing her fiercely and robbing her of breath, Ivy was boneless and happy. 

Alex pressed his forehead against her own, smoothing curls from her face. Neither of them spoke for a long time—not until he had to pull his half hard cock out of her body. Only then did she let herself look at him.

With her fading lust, Ivy had expected something like regret to wash over her. Instead, as Alex padded towards the bathroom, still naked, still lovely, she found she still wanted him. She let him wipe between her legs with the warm rag, his fingers dancing over her thigh.

“What time does your dad get up?” he whispered.

“Early,” she replied. “He likes to go for a run on the beach. Why?”

“I’m not done with you,” Alex admitted, his expression still dark with hunger. “Get on your hands and knees, Ivy.”

And Ivy did exactly as she was told.

ALEXANDER:

Alexander didn’t consider himself a particularly religious male. He listened to the sermons the priestesses offered on their major holidays and offered blessings when it was required of him. It had all seemed like a farce to him. Some big, cosmic joke he was forced to play along with.

That had been before he’d ever tasted Ivy Spell-Cleavers pussy. Alexander was religious now, and she was his goddess. Night and day, all he wanted was to worship between those legs of hers.

Not sit in another miserable meeting where the High Lords droned on and on about renegotiating their trade routes and supply lines while quibbling over tax rates. Ivy sat just beside her father, dressed in an orange, two-piece ensemble that offered a fascinating view of the tops of her breasts nestled against her collarbone and the flat plain of her bare stomach. The slit up the side of her skirt was practically cut to her hip and every time she walked, a black garter with a pretty golden chain draped over her slim thigh practically taunted him.

He’d fucked them both raw just the night before. Ivy had let him, whimpering and whining beneath his body just the way he’d always dreamed she might. And when she’d finished, Ivy had ordered him to bathe until he couldn’t scent her on his skin. It hadn’t stopped Lucien Vanserra from practically glaring, as if he already knew every filthy thing Alexander had ever done to his daughter.

And every filthy thing he meant to do to her that night. 

Concentrating was practically impossible and his father was determined to rope him into these inane discussions, if only to remind Lucien and Rhysand that they were the only ones with capable heirs. Alexander noted that Soren was conspicuously absent, off doing fuck knows what. Alexander was jealous, made worse by Ivy’s easy participation.

If she was distracted, it didn’t show. Her sharp eyes watched everything Kallias wrote down, catching any little mistake until the High Lord shifted, all but hiding that long document from her. 

Alexander only cared about one thing. “What about the humans?” he asked later in the day, unable to look Ivy or her father in the eye. 

“How much damage could a couple humans truly do?” Nyx shot back, looking for any opportunity to humble Alexander. Ivy leaned forward on her elbows, fiddling with a gold ring on her middle finger. All eyes on him. Even his father would defer on this matter. 

His eyes slid to the High Lady of the Night Court. She’d never once spoken to him, though he’d caught her on more than one occasion studying him. Wondering, he assumed, what kind of male he was. Heart pounding, Alexander thought if he wanted to convince her family that this was a problem, he’d need to appeal to the female who had once lived in his territory as a human. 

“There is a town of ten thousand just outside the fortress, closest to the sea,” he began, holding her gaze. Recognition sparked in her gaze, those blue eyes lighting with some memory.

“Farmers, mostly.”

“Certainly farmers can still hold their own against a paltry band of humans,” Nyx insisted. 

“None of them survived it,” Alexander told the High Lady. “And every town and hamlet between that place and the forest is gone, too. A total of fifteen thousand people.”

The entire room was silent.

“Humans?” Tarquin whispered. “How?”

Alexander had no answer for that. He shrugged helplessly, trying to imagine the terror. “We know they’re spraying faebane through the air. I have often wondered if there isn’t something immobilizing about it. What I do know is they sweep down the streets and burn everything to ash.”

“Whole families are found,” his father added gruffly. “These aren’t warriors, but females and their children. Farmers, trying to make a living. It’s unlikely they’re crossing the border.”

“But not impossible?” Rhysand asked his father, no hint of malice in the question. 

“If they did, I’m not certain this was what was deserved,” Tamlin replied. 

Lucien Vanserra inclined in his chair, glancing over at his daughter. “Take Ivy to the border at the end of the week. Let her survey the damage and report back.”

Ivy? In Spring? Their eyes locked and he knew she was thinking the exact same thing he was. It would require camping for at least a night, but Alexander thought he could stretch it over several days if she wanted to. 

Ivy was the best choice in terms of an emissary to speak on behalf of all seven of them. Rhysand and Eris trusted her implicitly, given their relation and Ivy’s dedication to both the lives of the humans and Prythian were well-known enough. Better than Nyx, at any rate, who glowered at not being allowed. As if any of the Night Court was welcome in Spring. 

Ivy was welcome anywhere Alexander was. He nodded his head in agreement, not daring to say another word. He wasn’t going to out the pair of them in front of all seven High Lords, half of whom were related to her in some way. He already didn’t like the way Eris Vanserra was watching him, amber eyes narrowed like he, too, knew every filthy thing Alexander was imagining. 

Talk shifted back to taxes until even Ivy had arched her neck, staring upwards at the ceiling like she was desperate to escape. Eris Vanserra was putting them through the ringer, every inch the fox lord people claimed him to be. He argued over cents, It ended when Tarquin stood abruptly, not bothering to excuse himself as he just walked out. Eris Vanserra would pay the extra six cents by virtue of non-agreement. 

The rest of them scrambled before some new agenda could be called, vanishing into the halls of Day Court. Alexander didn’t follow Ivy’s retreating form in favor of heading back to the library. He still had question that couldn’t be answered by fucking the Day Court princess. If he didn’t figure this out, it would be another seven years until he returned to the library. Anything could happen between now and then.

Up on the fourth floor, all but drowning in a book, Alexander didn’t notice the Lady of Autumn creeping up on him until she snatched that book out of his hand. Arina had been a Day Court scholar, he remembered—and was apparently a busybody, too.

“Who knew High Lords were so fascinated by the magic they’d been gifted,” she crooned, eyes sweeping over the pages. “Worried you’re going to be usurped.”

He leveled a bored stare. “I’d worry more about your own progeny, given their proclivity for killing their siblings for power.”

Arina narrowed her mossy colored eyes. She had two daughters—Sienna and Sierra. Neither of whom seemed to show any magical inclination outside of the ordinary. 

“Eris intends to live forever,” she replied, snapping his book shut and dropping it in his lap. “So you don’t need to worry about my family.”

“If you say so,” he replied. Their gaze held for a moment and then Arina jerked her head towards the staircase.

“Third floor. Section twelve, golden book.”

“You assume—”

“I know,” she breathed softly. “Who do you think told Helion it was possible? Third floor. Section twelve. Golden book.”

She swanned away and, careful not to look too desperate, Alexander counted to one hundred in his head. Only then did he dare to make his way down the winding steps and follow the path Arina Vanserra had laid out. 

Third floor. Section twelve. Golden book.

He found it easily, hidden among non-descript, utterly bland looking tomes. He never would have paid it a second glance had he not known what he was looking for. Alexander sank into a chair, pushing the pages with long fingers, until he found exactly what he was looking for.

He could have wept. There it was, in all its easy glory. 

An easily spoken incantation. An offering of his blood back into the land. A blessing for the next High Lord. Helion had done it and was still alive, still paced the halls of the Sun Palace with an easy smile on his face. 

He’d have to tell his father. Explain the whole thing to his family.

But as Alexander wrote down the instructions, peace stole over him for the first time in years.

He would be free.

IVY:

Dread pooled in Ivy’s gut as she, Soren, and Sage were called into their fathers study. Soren had already spilled the beans about the new baby, and yet the impending knowledge did little to soothe her. It was selfish, not to want that competition with her own siblings. No matter how often Soren assured her there would be no one else, and no matter how many times he reminded her there would be eight total Spell-Cleaver/Archerons, Ivy would be comfortable.

Not when Soren pushed open the study door, revealing their glowing, radiant mother perched in their fathers lap. Mates—still in love, still happy two decades later. Ivy wondered if that would be Soren some day. He’d certainly smoothed things over with Mei. And what had she done?

Fucked the Spring Court prince. 

“Sit,” their father offered, sweeping a hand towards the chairs in front of his desk.

“Soren already told us,” Sage declared, earning twin eye rolls from Ivy and Soren. Sage just didn’t understand when to keep a secret and lacked any semblance of tact. Their mother narrowed her eyes at Soren, who at least had the decency to duck his head in shame.

“Sorry, mama,” he mumbled. “I was just excited.”

“For once, it would be nice to share some good news first,” she reprimanded in her soft way. Soren’s eyes slid to the floor.

“We’re having a baby,” their father said, his voice filled with warm emotion. This was what they wanted—what they’d hoped for. Ivy knew how difficult it was to conceive for the fae. Three healthy children were a blessing most could only dream of. Four? That was all but a miracle. Neither of their parents knew the true number they would sire. Elain had forbidden Soren from telling her and as far as Ivy knew, her brother had upheld that promise. 

“Congratulations,” Ivy said when it became apparent Sage was going to sulk and Soren would quietly atone. Both her parents beamed.

“I can always count on you, Ives,” her father murmured. High praise from Lucien Vanserra. 

Let go Ivy. 

She forced herself to smile brightly. This was good, she reminded herself. Their family was happy. Her father could count on her, didn’t worry about her. She looked at his face, wishing he’d say something else—anything. 

His eyes slid to Soren. “Are you staying away from Mei?”

Soren’s expression became sullen. “We have a bargain.”

“You made a bargain with your mate?” their mother breathed. “What were you thinking?”

“That I didn’t want her to be afraid of me,” Soren half snapped. “We agreed she’d let me court her this weekend and if she decided at the end of the week she didn’t want me, I’d let her go.”

Her mothers eyes slid to her face. “Did you know about this?”

Of course Ivy did. Ivy knew everything Soren did, just as he knew everything about her. “I thought it was sweet.”

Soren exhaled, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Their father shook his head. “This is not the right way to go about it.”

“Should I wait five year—”

“Soren!” Elain snapped, her brown eyes flashing with warning. Their father’s arm slid tighter around his wife, that russet eye simmering. “We’re not going to fight today. Not over this. What’s done is done, but next time…”

Next time what? Ivy wanted to ask. Either Soren would convince Mei to accept the bond at the end of the week or she’d leave and Thesan would never let Soren into his territory again. She didn’t dare and neither did Soren. 

“Ivy is taking Alexander from Spring to Solstice.” Sage’s singsong voice cut through the tension. Ivy’s mouth fell open as she whipped her head around to look at her younger sister. “I think she likes him.”

“What?” their father whispered. “Alexander?”

Soren wasn’t quick enough to smother his smirk. Ivy was caught between a rock and a hard place. If she admitted she was doing it to put Aine at ease, Sage would surely immediately blab and make everything worse. But if she told her father she liked Alexander, there might be a different inter-territory incident within the span of two days.

“He asked,” she finally managed, catching the look exchanged between her parents.

“There are…other males,” her father began. Soren snorted.

“Oh?” Ivy dared to ask. “And are they allowed to take me, or will they be banished for asking?”

“That male was no good–”

“What male is?” she interrupted, holding her fathers gaze. “No one in Day Court meets your standards. Is Tamlin not one of your oldest friends? You don’t trust his son?”

“Dad doesn’t trust anyone with you,” Soren tried to joke. Ivy rose from her chair.

“Yeah. You can count on me for anything, unless it’s romance.”

“Is it romance?” Lucien asked, his face paling ever so slightly. Beside Ivy, Sage was clearly enjoying watching her big sister get in trouble. Ivy flicked her in the cheek.

“It’s one night at Solstice,” Ivy said, her body all but sagging with defeat. “In the name of better relations between our families. I barely know him.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” he father murmured, and for whatever reason, that was too much. She turned, storming from the room while her father called after her. 

“Ivy—!”

They’d know where to look for her, she reasoned as she took off in the wrong direction. The hammock in the garden, the cliffside overlooking the ocean. Her bedroom, the library. All places Ivy might go, where her father might slink up on and offer a soft apology. She didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want him to remind her that she was his baby still, that he loved her. That he knew what males wanted, and he didn’t want to see her get hurt.

She descended the stairs quickly, breaking into a run to get across the large hall and down the winding corridors. Ivy was allowed anywhere she wanted, which included Alexander's bedroom. Her father didn’t want her around him? Didn’t like the thought of his daughter being touched?

Ivy didn’t think he was allowed a say anymore. He’d never had a problem with Soren philandering as he liked, after all. 

Alexander sat at a table by the window, staring at a piece of paper in his hand. When the door opened and she appeared, locking it behind her, he set it against the wood to stand.

“What are you–”

“Take off your clothes,” she breathed, still holding the handle. Would he do it? Alexander stilled, eyes wide.

“Ivy—”

“Take them off,” she whispered. “Alex–”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Finn’s voice interrupted from the bathing chamber. Ivy wanted to die when the younger male came into view. Grinning at her and his brother. “Give me ten minutes to leave, at least?”

Oh Gods.

“Ivy–”

She turned before Alexander could say another word. It seemed today, all she was meant for was humiliation. Let her dad find her, then. Let him apologize.

Anything was better than all of Spring Court knowing she wanted their heir.

ALEXANDER:

“Making progress with Ivy Spell-Cleaver?” Finn teased the moment Ivy fled. Alexander turned, punching his brother hard in the stomach. Finn wheezed, hands braced on his knees as he doubled over in pain. 

“Dumbass,” Alexander hissed. He left his brother in his bedroom, following just behind her. Ivy wasn’t aware he could see her burst into the back patio. She wound her way through the garden while Alexander tracked her, never letting the vivid red of her hair out of his sight. Where was she going? 

To the beach. Alexander had never seen anything half as lovely as the private royal beach. White sand glimmered beneath the bright sun overhead, throwing gold over the crystalline water bubbling up to shore. Ivy kicked off her shoes before she touched the sand, but Alexander didn’t dare. Her skin ran hot, he guessed from the mix of fire and sunlight that raced through her blood. He wasn’t built for that sort of heat and was sure the sand would burn the bottom of his feet.

He caught her just out of view, grabbing her wrist and pulling her against his chest. “Don’t run away from me,” he murmured, hooking a finger beneath her chin to tilt it upwards. He frowned at what he said. “Are you crying?”

“Did you follow me?” she demanded, shoving him back. 

“Of course I did,” he replied, stumbling back at the force of her hands. “You came into my bedroom and asked me to strip. I would have told you Finn was there if you’d given me a second.”

She wiped at her face. “Just go, Alexander—”

He growled without meaning to, hating the way she said his name. “Alexander, is it? Am I only Alex when I’m between your legs?”

Her mouth fell open. “You…” he marveled at her loss of words. Perhaps a first for the eloquent Ivy. He pushed his luck. 

“I don’t want to hear you say my name that way,” he whispered roughly, reaching for her again. “And if that means I have to live on my knees? So be it.”

“Alex—” she breathed, but he wasn’t having it. She’d come to him, unaware that seeing her in his bedroom, asking him to take off his clothes, was a fantasy he’d lived out in his head many, many times. 

He hoisted her up in his arms, pressing his mouth to her forehead. He just needed a place that could help hold her up and where her father wouldn’t accidentally walk in on them. Finn was one thing—he knew how to keep his mouth shut. Lucien Vanserra, on the other, might actually kill him. 

At the far end of the beach were the smooth edges of a looming cliffside. The sand was softer here, sinking with each step he made. Water rushed over his boots, lapping at the shiny material though not so high his socks were soaked.

Ivy clung to him, face buried in his neck. “Who upset you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied, her lips pressed to his skin. Her tongue darted forward, licking his skin as if to taste the salt. 

“You don’t need to,” he murmured, burying his nose in her hair. Would he ever tire of her scent? Alexander didn’t think so. “I know what’s bothering you.”

“Do not,” she replied, difficult until the last. Alexander set her in the sand, holding her gaze as he towered over her. He reached for her beautiful face, rubbing his thumb over her warm cheek.

“No one takes care of my girl,” he murmured, daring to call her his. 

Ivy blinked, dark lashes fluttering around those russet eyes. He didn’t think the words registered to her at all. She blinked again and Alexander knew he was right. Everyone was too hard on her, demanding the perfection she struggled to meet. No one could be like that all the time and Alexander personally thought her family took her for granted.

He didn’t. Not as he sank to his knees and certainly not when he pushed her skirt up over her legs.

“Spread your legs for me,” he murmured, delighted beyond words when she did exactly as he asked. She wanted someone to see her for what she was—strong, capable, and yet still messy and sweet—and Alexander thought he was the only one who did. 

He lifted on her legs, bracing her slight weight in his arms. And just like he’d done in that alleyway when he’d been desperately trying to fuck Ivy out of his system, Alexander hoisted her up so both legs hung over his back and her upperhalf was braced against the rock.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked her, kissing up and down her thigh. He was so uncomfortable in the soft sand, his lower half soaked from the warm water and yet her arousal warred with the salty air, threatening to drive him insane. 

“Tell me, Ivy,” he demanded, eyes locked on her face. He didn’t dare look at her pussy–though he wanted to—if only to keep the last vestiges of his control. 

“This is what I want,” she whispered, her words nearly carried away on the wind. 

That was enough. He lowered his face against her, taking a taste. Undiluted need slammed into him just like the night before, urging him to do far more than just lick at her. It was her face—that soft, relenting relief—that kept Alexander’s urges in check. Whatever happened, whatever had drawn her towards him was being washed away in this act.

Considering Alexander had spent most of his life wondering what it would be like to taste her, he was in no position to complain. He’d have eaten her out kneeling on hot coals without complaint. This was far better. He could knead her pretty ass in his hands until she moaned loud enough it cut through the gentle waves lapping at their feet. She was so responsive. If he dipped his tongue into her cunt to fuck her with it, she’d whimper and pull at his hand. And if he swirled over her clit, paying mindless, slavish devotion to that little nub of flesh, Ivy ground her hips against him until she was practically riding his face. 

Ivy came with messy, wild abandon. Alexander was addicted to this side of her. The female from the High Lord meeting was gone, tucked away in whatever box she lived in. Proper, well-behaved Ivy vanished in favor of the near animal yanking his hair so hard it hurt.

“Alex,” she said, trying to slide herself off him. God, he wanted her so bad he was debating just fucking her in the sand. He had one hand on his pants when the spell around them shattered. 

“Ivy?”

Lucien Vanserra’s voice carried. Ivy looked up at him, skin paling when she realized how close he must be. 

“Go,” he whispered, not wanting to be caught with his head under the High Lord’s daughters skirt. 

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asked him, eyes round and hopeful. Wild dogs couldn’t have kept him from her—and certainly not Lucien Vanserra. Alexander nodded, watching as Ivy vanished around the corner. He slid back to the sand, waiting for his erection to pass. Waiting for her to be long gone. Some part of him wondered if it would always be like that for him. Always waiting on Ivy, stealing little pieces of her without ever actually having her. 

He waited so long the sun was dipping over the horizon when he returned. Still soaking wet, covered in sand. Elain Archeron was standing in the courtyard, those uncomfortable doe eyes watching as he approached. It was said her garden rivaled even his mothers. That Elain Archeron could make anything grow.

And while his mother certainly loved the garden his father had gifted her, he was maintained on her behalf. Alexander had always wanted a little piece of it and had been turned away. Hands that might have grown were hands soaked in blood. He was the warrior, nothing more.

“Are you alright?” she asked him, looking at him carefully. Closely. The way no one ever did. Alexander took a breath, intending to assure her he was fine.

“Your garden,” he heard himself saying instead. “Do you keep bees?”

A slow smile spread over her face. “I have always wanted to,” she told him, coming closer. “But I confess I’m too afraid. Can I show you where they might live, though?”

And Alexander, well aware his father would find this a betrayal, shook his head yes.

“Please,” he whispered. 

Begging for reprieve.

IVY:

“You know how much I love you, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“How special you are to me?”

“Of course, daddy.”

“I’m sorry I upset you. No one is ever going to be good enough for you.”

“I know, daddy.”

“When you return from Spring, let’s re-evaluate your matches. There are plenty of good males in your uncle's court, if no one here interests you. Eris would be thrilled to help set you up.”

“That would mean a lot to me, daddy.”

On and on and on. For an entire hour, Ivy had gone through the motions with her dad, saying whatever she thought he wanted to hear. Agreeing, like she always did. Her father—and certainly her Uncle Eris—weren’t going to let any male come anywhere near her in at least four more decades. She’d always be a baby to them. Too good for some disgusting male and their lurid fantasies. 

She was tired. Ivy was so, so tired. Nothing was going as planned. War on Spring’s border, war with Dawn. More siblings when she could barely keep Sage and Soren in line and the constant sneering from the males at court who both wanted to marry her to keep her in line and kill her, if only to see Soren supplant her.

She suffered through another stifling meeting where everyone hated each other, quibbling over every little thing for no reason other than they could. The High Lords were so secretive, so certain the other six were out to get them that at times, Ivy couldn’t figure out why they insisted on these yearly meetings.

Alexander wasn’t there. She didn’t even have him to look at. Her brother wasn’t required to come and so he didn’t, leaving her sitting beside Nyx, who was just as bored and moody. She could guess why. 

Violette, at the end of the table, wasn’t half as impressed with Nyx as everyone else. The Winter Court princess looked down her nose at him, found him arrogant and distasteful. Nyx handled her rejection poorly. She insulted him and Nyx, instead of trying to prove he was the opposite of her claims, was just as ugly and mean right back. 

Ivy pushed food around her plate at dinner until Sage and Soren noticed, drawing her into an absurd conversation over which was best—this or that. Sage would offer some silly, small thing. Cake? And Soren would offer a counter point. A splinter. And Sage would laugh and laugh until Ivy declared cake to be better. Sage would beam, pleased to have her attention and Soren would glance to the end of the hall where Mei was cloistered, hoping she saw how good he was with young children.

Ivy was grateful to escape to her room. She bathed and scrubbed off the make-up of the day. She removed her jewelry and detangled her hair until it was a wild, untamable mass around her face. She liked herself like this, though she thought no one else did. It was too true to how she felt internally sometimes. A beast-like creature rather than the polished, court-trained female she was pretending to be. 

Exhaling, Ivy put on her slouchiest pants and a comfortable tank top, climbed into bed, and was half asleep when she heard her bedroom door open.

Alex. 

He froze, locking it behind him just to be safe. “Are you growing out your facial hair?” she asked, sitting up just enough to really look at him. The scruff from two days before was filling over his chiseled jaw and covering his cheeks in a darker shade of blonde than his golden hair. It looked good.

He looked good. 

“I shaved it for this meeting,” he told her softly, his voice low and gravely. 

“You shouldn’t,” she replied, pulling back the corner of her blanket in invitation. How had Alexander become someone she found comforting? He was quiet, she reasoned. And all he wanted from her was sex. He didn’t want a High Lady, didn’t want her to be on. In fact, Ivy was starting to think he preferred when she didn’t have a thought in her mind outside of his cock. 

He shucked off his clothes, semi-hard as he padded towards her. He truly did have the body of some long forgotten god. Honed from his years fighting in Spring, Alex was hard, golden muscle. She liked that about him. 

He curled into her bed, adjusting so he had his arm around her, drawing her close against his chest. Ivy ran her fingers over the sparse, golden hair of his pectorals before trailing down to his navel where it thickened, pointing to his rapidly lengthening cock. 

He’d come to fuck her and she stupidly wanted him to hold her. He did, for a moment, his hand running up and down her spine. He turned his head towards hers and Ivy, too afraid to just say what she needed—terrified he’d leave if he wasn’t getting what he expected from her—pressed her mouth against his own. 

Alex responded immediately, threading his fingers through her hair to kiss her back. She kept waiting for him to push his body against her own, to spread her legs and bury himself inside her. She was practically inviting him to. Ivy even rubbed herself up against one of his powerful thighs so he’d see she was wet enough to take him.

And all he ever did was kiss her. He kissed her until they were both breathless, until she could feel his cock brushing against her stomach. He kissed her until her lips were swollen and her cheeks raw from the still roughened stubble growing against his face. 

And then he stopped, gathered her up into his arms, and whispered, “Not tonight.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. Was he rejecting her? “Why not?”

“You’re tired. I’m tired. We can try in the morning when we’re better rested.”

He didn’t get up. Didn’t leave. He merely burrowed further into the bed, until both their faces were half covered under blankets.

“Has to be early,” she mumbled, draping her arm over his flat stomach. “Dad wants me to sit in his meeting with Tarquin.”

“Fine,” Alex agreed. “Before dawn.”

Famous last words.

Ivy woke to soft knocking on her door. Blinking, she heard Alex groan from behind her. His cock was pressed against her ass, a natural reaction to the position they had found themselves in. Spooning. Alex had one of his heavy legs draped over her hip, both arms wrapped around her body. Alex nuzzled into her hair, seeking warmth and comfort without even realizing what he was doing.

He hadn’t woken her to have sex with her. Ivy couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past dawn but here she was. Late.

The knock on the door grew louder. “Ives?”

Her dad was on the other end. He was everywhere lately. It was like he knew what she was up to and was trying to put a stop to it, unaware he showed up right at the end of her little shenanigans. The sound of his voice woke Alexander. He sat up, running a hand through his shoulder length hair.

Fuck, he mouthed silently. 

“Give me a minute,” Ivy called casually. “I overslept.”

There was a pause. Those words had never left her lips before and both her and her father knew it. Ivy had been up before dawn since she’d been born.

Maybe she’d earned sleeping in. As she sat up, Ivy thought she’d never slept better in her entire life. No stress nightmares, no tossing and turning or waking up panicked multiple times, afraid she’d forgotten something or dreading a task in the morning. Just bliss. 

“I’ll meet you down for breakfast,” he father conceded. She was grateful for his grace, for his understanding. He’d have to explain to Tarquin why they were running late.

Ivy slipped from bed, stopped only by Alex’s snaking arm around her hips. He pulled her back for one soft, sweet kiss.

“Ruin lives today, yeah?”

She almost laughed. “Is that what you think of me?” she asked, looking up into his forest green eyes.

He stroked her cheek. “Just don’t ruin mine,” he whispered, offering one more kiss.

He was gone by the time she left the bathroom.

And Ivy missed him.

#acotar next gen #ivy and alex dumbass hour #every day lucien wakes up wondering where his children get it from #and every day elain reminds him it is solidly his fault

[thane-emblem]

Ten Random Lines Tag

Thank you so much for the tag @sillyliterature ~!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

I'm gonna split this randomly between published and unpublished fics~

empty hourglass (Fire Emblem, Ikesoren)

The light from the fire dances on Ike’s face, highlighting his features in a striking way. Soren barely pushes down the urge to reach out and touch him. That would cross a line; he’s better off watching from the sidelines, only watching, wanting but not acting.

2. 'til the stars evaporate (Mass Effect, Shrios)

The salty water climbs up her throat, and she keeps one hand free with all her might. Thane’s hand closes around hers, and she stares up into his face, her own deep fear mirrored in his features. This can’t be it, it can’t, she fought so hard to get here, she can’t be saying goodbye to him again, not like this, not now-

3. Home (No.6, Nezushi)

“He’s coming back.” Shion speaks before Inukashi can. They have to look at him to confirm that it’s actually Shion speaking; the voice sounded much too calm to be coming from him. Shouldn’t you be upset? they want to ask.

4. Wire (Fire Emblem 3 Houses, Edeleth)

“El,” says Byleth, “we’re married . It’s hardly embarrassing to dream about your own wife .”

As quickly as that, the blush is back again. “Byleth, please.”

“I can’t help it. You make it so easy.” Byleth finally stops laughing, though a broad grin still lingers on her face, warm and inviting. Edelgard steps over and puts a hand on her waist.

5. Thalassophobia (Mass Effect, Shepley, gift fic for my partner)

EDI considers for a moment. "I see. I will alter my programming to reflect this new knowledge. Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Williams."

"Sure thing," says Ashley. The two of them stand side by side for a moment before she adds: "And you don't need to add the title every time. We're crewmates."

6. Chasing Daylight (Fire Emblem 3 Houses, Black Eagles genfic)

In the dock, Edelgard and Byleth hit the floor side by side. Edelgard pulled the helmet off her head and took a deep breath. She was still alive, and so was Byleth - somehow, they’d made it. Now all they had to do was survive going through the center of a black hole.

7. Nowhere Bound, chapter 2 (Dragon Age, Hawkebela)

“Things have been in constant motion these past three days. Sailing this ship has kept us all busy.”

“You can say that again,” she says. “I think Isabela actually likes making us run around like this.”

Fenris snorts. “I agree.”

8. Like a page from a storybook (Miraculous Ladybug, Ladrien)

“It’s an honor, Prince Adrien.”

“Likewise, Lady…?” Prince Adrien’s eyes twinkled as he waited for her to give him her name. Ladybug panicked.

“Bug.”

“Lady Bug?”

“Yes, that’s right."

9. And you twist the knife (13 Sentinels, MeguTomi)

Above it all, one thing, one name keeps floating to the surface, haunting her like a bad dream that doesn't fade with the daylight:

Tomi.

Tomi, who had been her best and only friend for so long. Who, in spite of all the loss they'd both experienced, had never turned away from who she is or what she believes in. That's the Tomi that Megumi has betrayed.

10. distant ripples (Mass Effect, Shrios)

"I miss you," she says out loud, shattering the silence for just a moment. The weight of her own words settles on her shoulders. "I miss you so, so much."

Tagging: @jotarowan @megatraven @vespersposts @missydiabolical @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul @flatescardos @ahhhnorealnamesallowed and anyone else who feels like doing this, feel free to say I tagged you :D

#thanks again for the tag!! <333 #as you can see... i write for lots of fandoms & cant stick to 3 sentences hehe #i should really start uploading my mass effect fics #my writing #fanfic #fanfics #my fics #tag games #isa's adventures

[balladofaldelis]

PROMPTOBER 2023 DAY 12: MELTING

Something lighter than the past few!

PROMPTOBER 2023 MASTERLIST

Michael watches the way that Soren's lip quivers in his sleep as though afraid.

He finds himself leaning over the Prince's small body from the side, broad shoulders boxing him in protectively. He's a little tired, sure, but ever since his injury... it would be a failure to lose him in his sleep, and then all would be for naught. He's taken to watching him until he can't anymore, but tonight in particular he noticed the little things that Soren does, small and unique, unlike anything Michael has seen before.

Of course, Michael is hardly well-versed in the nature of mortals to begin with, so for all he knows this could be a regular behaviour that he's staring at, but something tells him that this is not something everyone does. Soren is so pitiful, so afraid all the time, that the quiver of a lip seems like almost habitual behaviour more than anything.

Sometimes, seeing him like this, Michael wonders why he decided to join his side at all. Yes, they are winning, and yes, Soren has proved himself in battle, but the way he cries when he has to kill and the way he curls into Michael like he's going to break is not the making of a warrior. His little heart trembles at even the slightest sign of terror and when he panics he does not stop, his world crumbling around him.

He didn't complain when Michael dragged him to the floor to sleep. No, he waited, then eventually told Michael that the bed was fine too. He didn't fight back when Michael's mind returned to its programming, not making any effort to preserve his life. Whether it is trust or foolishness he cannot know, but Michael cannot fathom it either way. How can one person be so useless to survive in a world as brutal as Aldelis?

But then, he thinks as he stares down at that resting face, perhaps Soren is made for other things. His hand is gentle when he reaches in to touch, hesitant but kind, and his tone is always soft. He speaks soothingly and never raises his voice. He is, in every possible way, gentle.

What is it that he once said? That he would teach Michael to be gentle?

Michael thinks it silly. Gentleness and kindness does not win a war. But lying here beside him, watching over him, is that not being gentle?

Michael sighs, returning to his place on the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling. He has always been so frosted over, his eyes frostbite, his exterior icy. But along came a man so pathetic that an enemy wouldn't think him any sort of threat, heating it into water, the warmth of his touch like a fire spreading throughout Michael.

Melting, Michael thinks, I'm melting for him.

He is smarter than to deny it but prouder than to admit it, that this man has had any kind of effect on him. It is only weakness, he decides. Yet he succumbs to weakness just a little as he rolls over, summoning his wings only to envelop Soren in them protectively, ensuring that nothing can harm him again.

dividers: by saradika

#ballad of aldelis #boa books #writeblr #writers on tumblr #promptober 2023 #BOA: Soren Sanguis #BOA: Michael

[atypicalsenerio]

⁠—plateau, warlock mastery

Casting spells was second nature to Soren. Like breathing, taking air in and out of his lungs, and just as easily maniupulating it around him

With practiced motions he could do in his sleep, he executed a perfect Wind spell, followed by Cutting Gale, and Excalibur. The academy’s Reason professors watched him intently and Soren remained calm, face expressionless. There was no doubt in his mind he would pass an exam.

A mind that was as talented at memorization such as his could recall much of his childhood in vivid detail. Sometimes, it was a detriment. Other times, it was a source of contentment and pride at his own progress alongside time’s everlasting march forward.

As he demonstrated his practical ability, his muscles could remember doing the exact same motions almost two decades prior.

When he was first a student of the arcane arts, he was learning literacy in conjunction with magic. The old sage who had taken him in when he was around four years old had him studying relentlessly, every waking hour no matter the hour. Soren had learned quickly to eat and sleep when the sage was asleep, and to devote the hours they were awake to following his directions, cramming as much information as he could into his mind, fueled by a dying man’s desperation to pass on a lifetime of knowledge while he still had breath.

Fulfilling a dying wish before he’d ever gotten to live himself. Funny how the world worked.

Soren’s first spells hadn’t been impressive. The initial glow of success was then dimmed by the constant pressure to drill more and improve upon improvement. He was so small it had been a struggle to hold open a tome while casting. At times, he’d nearly fallen asleep while studying or practicing, but if his eyes ever drifted closed he was awakened again until they were both too exhausted to keep going.

It hadn’t been much of a life. He hadn’t known that, then. He’d never spent enough time with other children to know what he’d missed. His habit of falling asleep at a desk on top of an open tome had started before many commoners knew their alphabet.

These ‘gifts’, as people called his intellect and skills, were indeed paid for.

Candlelit nights and days spent in a daze of reading and refining magic were the bulk of his two years with the sage, and better than the rest of his childhood had been. He never spoke (and as he would find out, couldn’t) except when reciting spells, but he was fed, and there was a rickety roof over their heads. He knew by then he couldn’t take either for granted.

The loss of the sage at his time of death was not like losing a parent, but a scant source of food. They hadn’t been fond of each other, and Soren hadn’t had much choice in learning magic. ‘Better than where he’d come from before’ was a low bar, and one the sage had met, that was all.

He honed his skills further as a teenager and an adult, but not out of passion or love for it. It was more like choosing to only sharpen your best weapon, because it would yield the best results. He had no real hobbies or interests to speak of except studying, and he was studying to survive. Tactics, magic, geography, what made the people around him tick- all of it was for self preservation.

One could argue his life had been a lesson in the uglier sides of peoples’ natures, and when prompted, he could give a desolate, blunt report of his opinion of them.

-

The effects of his casting faded like a passing breeze, and Soren passed his exam. He was awarded his mastery of the highest pure Reason class related to anima magic that the academy had to offer: Warlock.

With the congratulations, he was given a set of robes to mark his accomplishment.

Soren retreated to his quarters to don them. Custom made black robes with dark mossy green accents flowed around him perfectly. The shoulders of the outfit were something he could do without, but combined with the trailing sleeves it made a bold look for him. A proper sage, certified and all, looking as though he did have every bit of knowledge that old sage had tried to hard to impart to him.

There wasn’t a Wind spell known to mages that was more advanced than Excalibur. Not that he’d ever heard of, anyway.

This was it, the end of a journey.

“Hm.” Why wasn’t he... happy? That was the expected response.

Soren folded his hands in front of himself. He’d practiced all his life and would keep practicing more, but he’d reached a point that had taken much of his lifetime, without a whole lot left to go to strengthen his best element.

He sat down on the edge of his bed with a sigh.

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” he admitted to the empty room. He studied history only for tactics, which he didn’t need much of anymore without assisting the Greil Mercenaries. Ike was the only one he genuinely wanted to be advisor to, and without their troupe to lead, he had no one to direct. He’d studied magic for so long to survive, and the end to those studies was in sight.

Oh, to finally feel stumped, and to feel it from a success.

Soren tried to recall what else he did in his time. He could focus more on swordsmanship, politics, on faith magic-

Academics, all of it. He could do it.

But if asked what would make him genuinely feel joy, he had no answer.

When he had the freedom to just live, he didn’t know what to do with it. Being around Ike could hardly be an answer to last the entire rest of his life.

What else did he do? Surely there was something. Oh, that was right. Some hours of his life were even spent tutoring Niles, soon to be both Niles and Tormod.

...

A pause.

He stood up as an idea struck him. For what exact goal, be it personal organization or even possible profit, he wasn’t sure. He may have looked the part of a sage, but he was still far from the man who’d been his first teacher. If anything, he was better. He knew his anima magic forwards and backwards, and what a difference good and poor instruction made, a balance between desperate dedication and sustainable study.

Soren took a spare blank book and started writing. With as much simple, accessible clarity as possible, he began a new project, his own textbook of basics of magic that a total beginner could understand, with his own hard learned insights added alongside.

It was something a small child from long ago would’ve found helpful, when not much in life had been kind.

#//yall are gonna laugh but when i sat down to write this i was like oh no idk if ill make 400 words now look at it #//DHFBVSDLBGRBHS #//first mastery drabble that isnt for dancer i hope its ok orz #drabble #ic #warlock drabble #class mastery

[seirsvelgr]

"Bear with me!" Soren called out.

It sounded just like the general phrase, a common idiom, but it wasn't that. He was being literal.

A fluffy polar bear was sniffing around the goalie net for their team, and Soren realized it was on his shoulders to take care of it. He took a deep breath and tapped the ice with his foot, certain it would hold up to what he was about to do. It had to.

Sometimes, bears could be scared off rather than fought off. He hoped that would be this case here, if he could get this bear that seemed immune to all the other chaos around them to leave.

He pulled out a small tome from the chest area of his crop top and thrust his arm out, sigils already flying around him as he cast his magic. Volcanic rock erupted from the smoothed, impenetrable surface of the ice, magical lava spewing up into the sky. The bear made a noise of alarm and Soren rushed forward to startle it more—

—as the lava settled he leaped, feet dramatically alighting on the top of the rock pile. "HYA!!" He shouted, with a downward slice of his hand in the air, he cast an Excalibur spell that cracked the stones below him and sent debris flying in every direction, including at the now alarmed bear. It whined and turned to run, and Soren struck a pose in the remains of his windswept debris, dropping into a rather low splits, palms flat on the ice

......

A bird chirped in the distance.

"I require some assistance."

“Bear w—?” Edelgard hardly manages to finish the question that leaves her lips. As she turns to face the source, Soren extracts a tome from one of his clothes’ compartments, intent clear within the sparks of a spell that brimmed upon his fingertips. Her eyes travel to where his spell hand aims— a polar bear nearing the ice, fur as pale and ivory-shaded as her own hair. Then, Soren draws his sigils in empty air, and the ground erupts.

Her attention does not stay for long; her hands and eyes keep busy, keeping the puck out of Ewan’s reach. If she could just clear a good path, if only a single shot, then— ... perhaps that was Soren’s intention? The princess bats the medallion further away, speeding after before Ewan can dash after her and it. In the distance, she hears Soren cry out something that vaguely resembled a child’s warcry.

She certainly hadn’t heard that during their spar in the Battle of Eagle and Lion.

The ground around, both ice and volcanic rock alike, sputters forth; staggering the earth, and successfully scaring the bear into stumbling further onto the rink.

She blinks. “BEAR.....”

In addition to joining the players upon the rink, however, meant that it had also made itself a variable to their little game. And that it was heading straight towards her and Ewan.

Ice scrapes loudly as Edelgard wrests apart her stick from Ewan’s, hooking the medallion towards her end— moments before the bear comes sprawling between the two. It makes a discontent noise, something between a growl and a whine. Perhaps there was something that drew animals of winter to her, Edelgard mulls. Was it the white hair?

Her senses return to her when she registers the sight of Ewan, previously fired up (what had Pelleas put into that smoothies...?) turned as pale as the blankets of snow that surrounded them. Part of her almost finds it within herself to laugh, though she remembers that there are still points to win, and the end of a match’s score to determine.

The stick in Edelgard’s returns to its duty in escorting the puck, skating further into opponent territory. She passes Soren, briefly, giving him an acknowledging nod.

“Hold that position,” She replies, skating past, before smiling— the slightest sliver of a laugh exiting through her nose. “Worry not. You look good.”

Closing the distance, she pucks.

#soren tbt. #ewan tbt. #toafleetingsnow2021 #hockeyarc2021 #answered tbt. #// ah

[blutopaz15]

weave together again

aka rayla’s new hairdo in three parts: pre-timeskip, mid-timeskip, post-timeskip

part one

It’s a hot summer day when he first puts her hair up for her.

Rayla sits up from the cool grass—the only shade available to collapse in after that last round with Soren and the other Crownguard—and finds Callum reaching for her.

“Ugh, no,” she protests at first. It’s so hot, and there’s hardly any tree cover in the courtyard here at the castle, and she’s so much sweatier than she would’ve ever been from such light training in the Silvergrove…so she waves away his hand before it could get anywhere near the layer of sweat covering her skin. “I’m gross.”

The look in his eyes is familiar: a little amused and so kind and extra sweet, as if he could compliment the truth away. “I can promise you that you’re not.”

She can’t help but be a little sorry to deny him when that’d been the exact same sweet Callum-face that’d made her kiss him in the first place…

“So hot,” she says, shaking her head, reminding herself and explaining to him.

His eyebrows lift and the soft smile on his lips tilts sideways…and she lets him at least cover her hand on the ground with his.

“That’s true,” he says, eyes catching in the dappled bits of sunlight through the leaves overhead, so clearly proud of having found something both flirty and sweet to say to her.

She scoffs—as that’d hide her breath hitching and heart fluttering—and looks away too, under the guise of an eye roll, her cheeks too pink from the sun to get any warmer. “I feel gross—sweaty and hot and so, so gross.”

Callum brightens even more and scrambles to his knees, facing her with a toothy grin, his fingertip already glowing bright with magic. “I can fix that.”

The rune’s already drawn—and he looks even prouder—before she gives a grateful go-ahead. “Go for it, mage,” she smiles, lifting her chin expectantly.

The Draconic is a whisper and the breeze is gentle too—just enough to aspiro the sweat from her skin and to blow damp strands of white away from her face. The windbreath spell doesn’t last forever, of course, but she stays still, her eyes shut, hoping he’ll go again.

Instead, though, his knees shuffle against the grass, and he’s already sitting behind her by the time she blinks her eyes open. “What are you doing?” she asks, looking over her shoulder to see him settled on his knees at her back.

“Putting your hair up for you,” he shrugs, tucking a halfway-blown-back lock behind her ear in explanation, “if that’s okay.”

She faces forward and nods, trying to hide any blush that shows through the sunburn, and he does the same on the other side, his fingertips cool against the warm tip of her ear.

“You’ll be more comfortable, don’t you think?” Callum says, picking up her hair from her shoulders to hold loosely in his hand.

“I…suppose so.” She swallows thickly at the sudden swell of intimacy: Callum gathering the pieces at the back of her neck with her say-so, all that attention fixed on her comfort…

“Doesn’t all this get in the way?” he asks, and Rayla doesn’t respond, wit faltering at all the feelings.

His fingertips gently raking against her scalp, his touch firm and tender and careful all through her hair, his words so genuine and so full of affection and concern…

“Doesn’t seem very practical for back-flipping, tree-climbing, or sword-stabbing if you ask me,” he continues, chuckling to himself

“Never been a problem before,” she says—too quickly—hoping he can’t tell when she holds her breath as he smoothes the last few sections around her horns, pulling it all taut at the crown of her head.

Rayla exhales as he finishes—too quickly—wishing for an excuse for more.

“There, now I just need—”

“Actually, wait—” she stops him, reaching up to pull a small section out of the bun he’s made. “Can…can you braid this first? I can show you, if—”

“I can do that.” Callum takes the piece of hair from her, arranging it to fall below her horn before he abandons the rest of her hair and starts separating the section into pieces to weave together again, his hands steady and surprising her with their skill. 

“I love you,” she blurts out…and panics. Maybe that was a little much for something as little as this, and maybe Callum taking care of her like this didn’t call for that big a feeling but—

“I mean—”

His lips land on her temple, gentle and warm, and he whispers again.

“I love you, too, Rayla. I really do.”

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #seaon 4 #the dragon prince #pre-season 4 #tdp #rayla #callum #aka rayla's new hairdo the fic

[solitae]

Not Nothing - Part 5 - Janaya Fic

x-posted on my AO3 account, link on my main page

Summary:  Gren tries to find out more about what's going on with Amaya and Janai, and Amaya shares with him what happened to her in Lux Aurea, including the lost three days after her judgment. Later, Amaya takes Janai up on the offer to spend an evening in the bathhouse.

Notes: This is a loooooong chapter. I usually try to keep them under 2000 words, but Gren and Amaya had a lot to say!

The other unusual thing about this chapter is that I do recount some of the events from the show. I kept thinking about how difficult Amaya's judgment must have been from her perspective, and I wanted to look at that.

Content Notes: A few non-explicit sexual jokes, implied sex, a little bit of rough language

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4

Once Soren left to escort Ezran and Aanya to the baths and Janai went to organize their armor repair, Amaya wandered out to the balcony with Gren. The fresh clothes felt weird, and she tugged at her tunic. The only thing they had found to fit across her shoulders had been a sleeveless tunic in bright red.

Gren leaned back against the railing while she looked up at the night sky. When she glanced at Gren, he grinned at her, eyes twinkling. “So, what’s happening there?”

“There?” Amaya suspected she knew what he was asking, but gave him an innocent look anyway.

His snort made her laugh. “Yes, there. With Janai.” She grinned a little. “You two keep disappearing.”

The night breeze cooled her heating cheeks, and Amaya shook her head, taking a moment to study the dragons down in the meadow below before she turned toward him. “I’m not sure yet.”

“But there’s something going on, right?” Gren’s expression was far too gleeful, and she shot him a mock glare.

The memories of those few kisses still blazed in her mind, and she closed her eyes for a moment. As she drew a deep breath, she opened them and met his impish look. “Something. We kissed.”

“And you like her. A lot.”

Despite the night air, her cheeks still felt hot, and she moved over to rest back on the railing next to Gren. He pressed his shoulder against hers. It was hardly the first time he’d seen her involved with someone, but usually he saw her relationships from start to finish. It was strange that he had missed the beginning of this one. 

Amaya’s lips twisted as she glanced at him. “I do. And I understand her. We’re alike.”

“Does she understand you?”

It took her a moment to weigh the thought. “Me? She’s starting to.” Her fingers flexed as she tried to find the words. “But the boys? You? Katolis? Not yet.”

“Does she need to understand all of that?”

“Only if it’s serious.”

“Is it?”

Amaya shrugged. “Dunno.”

Gren gave her a look.

“What? A week ago I was telling her to shove her sword up her ass, and an hour ago, I was kissing her.”

“You didn’t-”

Amaya bared her teeth. “Of course I did.”  

Gren shook his head. “That poor interpreter.”

“I was pissed off. They had me in a ring of fire. Kept my hands bound behind my back most of the time.”   She tried to stop the shudder that threatened, but Gren caught the hitch in her movement. The worry in his eyes made her shoulders hunch. She had been trying not to think too hard about her capture. 

There were a thousand questions on Gren’s face. Amaya just leaned into him for a moment. Concern crept into his expression as he looked down at her, and he quickly reached over to close the balcony door. 

“Talk to me? What happened?”

Amaya clenched her hands to try to stop them from trembling, but they were still unsteady. “Janai took me in front of the Queen to be judged-”

“Janai did?!”  

“Just let me get through this.” If he kept asking for explanations, Amaya was never going to get it out. And she needed too, she could feel it bubbling in her mind. “I ...might have spit at the Queen.” 

Gren grimaced but did not interrupt.  

“So she told Janai to dispose of me, but I was too far away to see what else she said, and Janai and Kazi were behind me. Then, their mage was shining the staff in my face.” Her hands shook harder, but she pushed on. If she stopped now, she’d never get started again. And if she looked at Gren, she might lose her composure. 

“It was like looking directly into the sun. I thought ...I thought they were trying to use it to ...” Amaya shook her head quickly and kept going before Gren could jump in. “I tried to look away, but Janai ran forward and got close enough that I could see her lips. And she told me to look into the light if I wanted to live. And I did. I wanted to be with you and Callum and Ezran and back home, and I couldn’t give up. But...” 

Her hands were shaking almost too hard to sign. Amaya clenched her jaw hard, still not looking at Gren. “I felt it blind me. And I was sure I was stuck here alone. Blind. Deaf. With people that hated me.”

There was just an instant after she let her hands fall before Gren wrapped her up in a tight hug, and it wasn’t until she buried her face in his shoulder and felt the damp fabric that Amaya realized she was crying. Her body shook so hard she thought she might break apart, but Gren just held her and pressed his cheek to her hair. 

All the terror she’d felt washed over her, the memory of her sight going and her legs giving out, of her consciousness fading in such a dangerous place, but this time her fists clenched the back of Gren’s tunic and she was not alone. 

Safety and protectiveness poured from Gren as he held her, unwavering, his hands warm on her back, and she found her way through the fear. When she finally looked up, Gren’s face was streaked with tears. 

Amaya touched his cheek and shook her head as she shifted back a little. “Not you too.” 

He sniffled and gave a laugh that she could feel was half-hearted. “I was so worried you were dead that I never thought about ...” 

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I really am.” Even though her eyes were still damp, she held his gaze, willing him to believe her. “It got better after that.”

It took Gren a moment and a few deep breaths to settle, but he finally nodded. When she patted his chest, he let her go, still looking unconvinced. With a sigh, he felt at where his pockets would normally be. “Even my handkerchief got sent to be cleaned.”

A little laugh broke from her. “I’m fine!”

Gren squinted at her, then quickly ducked inside. Apparently she was getting a handkerchief whether she wanted one or not. A few moments later, he returned with a glass of water and the same cloth she’d used on Janai’s face earlier, freshly wetted and rung out for her. The poor cloth was getting a workout. 

“Thanks.” Amaya accepted both with a crooked smile, knowing better than to try to convince Gren otherwise when he was in care-taking mode. As much as it helped her, it also relieved his nerves.

She sunk down to sit on the floor of the balcony, feeling easier with the low walls completely surrounding them. The cool cloth felt good as she cleaned her face, and she took a moment to breathe and sip her water.

Gren settled down facing her, his legs folded tailor-style, his knees brushing hers. “So it got better?”

“Once I realized my eyes would recover, yeah. Kazi made sure I understood that when I woke up.”

“Touch signing?”

Amaya nodded quickly. “They hid me away in Janai’s dressing room to recover, and I spent most of the time sleeping.”

“Not back to the ring of fire?”

“Not at first. That came later when Janai’s sister told her she was taking SUCH good care of her pet.” Janai had come into the room absolutely furious and told Kazi to remind Amaya that she was a prisoner, and Amaya had been completely baffled by her sudden change in mood.

“What?!”

“It goes back to everything I missed. Kazi told me the whole thing later.  Apparently the queen called me worthless and told Janai to get rid of me, and Janai defended me in front of the whole court.”

Gren blinked. “That’s ...What did she say?’”

“That I wasn’t worthless. That I had treated her with warrior’s honor, and that they should give me the same.”

“Treated her with warrior’s honor?” Poor Gren usually knew things as soon as they happened to her, and it felt so strange that he needed more details from her. Not that Amaya minded providing them to him.

“Oh, I forgot you didn’t know.” Amaya shot him an apologetic look. “She got knocked off the ledge when our charges blew, and I found her hanging there. So I helped her up. Of course, then her people captured me, but better than them killing me.”

“A tactical choice then, hmm?” There was a touch of teasing in Gren’s face.

Amaya lifted one shoulder. “The choice Sarai would have made.”

Gren stared at her for a moment, all teasing gone. “True.”

“Anyway. She saved my life in return. And when she left the court, her sister told her to enjoy her pet. So she had to put me back in the fire ring so I wouldn’t be her pet.”

“Okay, but what was that whole light thing about in the first place?” Gren shuddered on her behalf. 

“They were looking for Dark Magic. And after I saw what Viren did, I get it. I don’t think I did before, not entirely.”

“So Janai knew you were safe. Well, safer than she thought before.”

Amaya nodded quickly. “I think it scared her too. She knew she could have gotten me killed, so she was gentler after that. She changed some of the coverings on my eyes herself and brought me blankets and food. That’s when she started learning signs too. I wasn’t supposed to know but Kazi slipped up.” She shot him a grin. “I wasn’t supposed to know about the pet thing either, but Kazi is talkative.”

“Like all good interpreters.”

Amaya laughed. “Like all good interpreters.”

“Did anything else change after that?”

“She stopped tying my arms behind my back so I could talk with Kazi, and even once she sent me back down to the ring, she tried to keep Kazi with me. She understood how hard it was not to have a voice, and Kazi was good company. Janai visited a lot too. When I got restless, we sparred weaponless.” 

Gren’s lips twitched, and Amaya narrowed her eyes at him. He knew her way too well, and he knew the way she got to know someone was by watching how they moved. And the more she liked someone, the more often she wanted to spar. “You got restless often, didn’t you?”

She shot him a cheeky grin. “All the time. And most of our bouts ended in a draw, so Janai couldn’t let that stand.”

“I think I’m starting to see what happened. Especially if you ended in draws.”

A flush crept to her cheeks, and Amaya lifted one shoulder. Gren wasn’t wrong. Those sparring matches had shifted things. At first, it has just been about sizing each other up, trying to reveal a little bit less about herself than Janai revealed. 

They were too evenly matched for that tactic to work well, especially since Janai had quickly picked up on when Amaya was holding back. Then it had become about them showing off, each of them truly trying to win. Initially, Amaya had thought she was at a disadvantage with the fire ringing them, but Janai had never driven her toward it, instead only using it to her own advantage to dodge. 

And they had learned. Where Janai was impulsive, Amaya was strategic. Janai was faster than her, but Amaya had stronger awareness of her surroundings. Then, at least for Amaya, it had stopped being about posturing and gathering intelligence, it had been about moving together for the sheer joy of it. They would crash into each other, and break apart, make eye contact, and crash into each other again. 

“We started to understand each other. To trust each other. I was her equal then.”

And then there was the moment where Amaya had shown her how she disarmed her, and their eyes met while they were pressed close. Something had jolted between them, and they had both stared at each other for a moment before Janai conveniently remembered something she had to do. 

Amaya shook herself out of her thoughts and realized Gren was just watching her with an amused expression. “What?”

“It kind of sounds serious.”

Amaya rolled her eyes and tossed the cloth at him. He caught it with a laugh. 

“I don’t want to rush it. It’s complicated.” That was an understatement as big as the Breach.

Gren sobered a little but his eyes were still warm. “For a lot of reasons. I know. But she makes you smile, so that’s something.” 

Amaya’s cheeks flushed so hot that she regretted not having the cloth anymore. “Yeah. Something. And that’s enough of that.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Go get cleaned up.”

“Do you want to come with me? I can wait until you’re ready to go.” 

Amaya shook her head quickly. “Not this time. Haven’t had any time alone in days. Besides, I’m going with Janai later.”

Gren slowly lifted his eyebrow and gave her a knowing look. 

“STOP THAT!” 

“I was just going to say, if you want me to help things look more official, I’m happy to. Maybe meet her there if she’s trying to avoid gossip.”

Amaya squinted at him then let out a long huff. “You’re right.”

The look Gren gave her was irritatingly smug, and she flicked his knee as he started to get up. Before he left though, she tapped his leg and looked up at him. “I missed you. Thanks.”

His lips twisted as he nodded. “I missed you too. A lot. You better be here when I get back.”

“I will. Promise.”

With that assurance and another look back at her, Gren left her on the balcony with her thoughts, and she rested there until Soren returned with Ezran and Aanya. She helped the kids get settled on cots In Janai’s dressing room

When Ezran threw his arms around her neck, she held on to him tightly. Whatever she felt for Janai, she owed it to him and Sarai to be at his side. No more leaving him to handle this on his own. She needed to be there for him, but they would sort that all out later. For the moment, it felt good to tuck him and Bait safely into bed. 

Over on her cot, Aanya had pretended not to watch their exchange, but Amaya had felt the girl’s eyes on her, so she sat down on the edge of it and gently tucked her in too. There was something a little haunted in her expression, and Amaya made a note to talk to her later with Gren there. For now, she simply brushed the girl’s hair back from her face and pulled the blankets securely around her. Aanya sighed softly and relaxed, letting her eyes close. 

Soren had been watching them from the doorway, and as she rose to leave, his eyes moved between the kids. “I’ll be out here if you guys need anything.” 

Once he’d closed the door, he looked at Amaya and signed clumsily. “I watch.”

Amaya squeezed his arm and nodded toward the food still left. They sat down together, eating and Soren talking until Gren came to get her.

True to his word, Gren escorted Amaya to the bathhouse at the arranged time, and he looked far too pleased. It had been a good call because even as late as it was, a few of the refugees from the upper ring were still circulating in the courtyard. Gossip would have traveled far and fast if she had been with Janai. It was one thing to convince her people of an alliance with the humans. It was another to get them to accept that their soon-to-be Queen was ...whatever they were together. That could wait if it was that serious.

As they approached the bathhouse, Amaya spotted a familiar slim figure perched on a low stone wall outside. Kazi caught sight of them at the same time and popped to their feet, a delighted grin spreading over their face. “Ahh, there you are, General Amaya. Her Radiance sent me to meet you.”  The young interpreter’s signing was far more casual though. “General! You’re back! Janai wanted me to make this look official.” 

Amaya laughed along with Gren. “Gren, this is Kazi. Kazi, this is my voice, Commander Gren.”

Disappointment and curiosity warred on Kazi’s face, but Gren jumped in quickly, offering them a small bow. “A pleasure, Kazi. Amaya has told me how kind you were, and I look forward to working together.” 

Kazi’s shoulders relaxed, and they gave Gren a broad smile. “It would be my pleasure, Commander Gren.”

Amaya couldn’t help smiling fondly. “It is good to see you again, Kazi. I was hoping to find you soon. What are you doing out here though?”

An impish grin crossed their face. “Janai wanted to make sure no one else went into the bathhouse. High-level negotiations, she said.”

Gren snorted, and Amaya thumped his stomach with the back of her hand. Apparently not hard enough though, because he shot Amaya a playful grin before responding to Kazi. “General Amaya is a very thorough negotiator. We may be out here late.”

Amaya lifted an eyebrow at both of them. Oh, they wanted to play this game, did they? “I’m going to stay until everyone is satisfied with the outcome, but don’t worry, I have a silver tongue.”

Between Kazi’s wide eyes and Gren’s blush, Amaya knew she had won that round. With a wink, she left them behind and headed into the bathhouse. The fact that the two of them were apparently just going to wait out there was unsettling, but at least it meant no one would interrupt her with Janai. The two of them chattering together was a small price to pay, she supposed.

Amaya stepped into the simple bathhouse, more functional and less ornate than the places she had seen in the royal ring. A line of tiny rooms for undressing blocked the main bathing room from view and from the cooler outside air. As Amaya took off her borrowed clothing, a cloud of steam wafted under the curtain between her and the bathing room. She frowned at it. Gren had told her that the pools were apparently cooler than usual because of the damage to the Sunforge, but then they were with Sunfire elves. Cooler than usual could simply mean not boiling. 

She shook herself out of her aimless thoughts around temperature and hung her clothes up on the pegs provided. The last touch was a towel around her waist, and she took a deep breath before stepping through the curtains. 

Steam indeed filled the room that was lit by dim runes, giving it a strange soft glow, but Amaya had no time to contemplate that. The source of the heat stood gleaming in the middle of the pool with water up to her hips and her hair wrapped in a dark red cloth. Steam billowed around her, wreathing Janai like some long-lost goddess, and Amaya forgot how to move. 

--------------------

Several hours later, Amaya emerged a little while after Janai to find Gren still waiting for her. He sized her up, clearly catching her exhaustion. “Janai’s a tough negotiator too.” 

Amaya bit her lip as a blush spread over her face. “Something like that.”

Gren tilted his head at her and searched her face. Whatever he found made him simply give her a one-armed hug, and he offered her his arm as support on their way back. Amaya leaned more heavily on him than usual, and by the time they reached the suite, her eyelids were drooping.

As quietly as she could, she climbed into Janai’s bed. The already half-asleep elf tucked herself back against Amaya’s chest, and Amaya buried her face in her neck, her scent easing her to sleep.

Note: Yes, the bathhouse scene exists. It’s way too explicit to go in the tags though, so you can either check out my AO3 (same nick), or keep an eye on my blog as I’ll be posting the link.

#janaya #amaya #janai #the dragon prince #general amaya #gren #kazi #my fic #not nothing #the dragon prince spoilers #tdp spoilers

[separatist-apologist]

I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you For Saoirse and Auden, but can request it to be fluffy and they inadvertently reveal themselves to their parents?

I Don’t Want To Keep Secrets Just To Keep You- Saoirse x Auden (813 words)

No one questioned the ribbon tied around Saoirse’s finger so long as she kept an equally nice one tied in her blonde hair. She felt like a doll that morning, dressed in cerulean blue, the sleeves draped over her freckled shoulders. Her mother had insisted she pull her curls off her face, leaving the rest to drape down her back. 

The High Lords meeting was being held in Spring this year for the first time in almost a decade and both her parents were nervously flitting about, preparing their home for the other seven courts to descend. Saoirse only cared about one thing—Auden. He’d be coming with his family just as he always did and this time, she intended to convince him to just tell their parents what was going on. Sure, they’d be angry but mates could hardly be denied. She wanted to accept the bond and leave Spring for good. 

She smiled beside her mother, welcoming guest right up until the Night Court. The reception was frosty, stilted and uncomfortable. Auden noticed. His face betrayed nothing though his shadows surely did. They darted towards her, avoiding the bright light over head for the foyer where they slithered over her body in greeting. Auden scowled, calling them back in his quiet way.

If her parents noticed, they said nothing. Saoirse waited until everyone was settled, the county estate bursting full of people, before she made her way for Auden’s room. It was dangerous to try and sneak off with him, given how many people were watching and still she didn’t care. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks and she was slowly starting to lose her mind. True to form, Auden yanked open the door before she could reach for the handle, pulling her inside. They said nothing for a moment, kissing as though they might never get another chance. Saoirse was desperate, fingers raking through his short hair as she pushed him backwards toward the bed. She’d memorized this room days earlier when she’d seen the final arrangements so she’d be able to maneuver through it in the dark without knocking into any furniture. 

“Fuck Saoirse,” he breathed, turning so it was her who fell backwards on the bed. She reached for him, fingers immediately sliding beneath his dark, sleeveless tunic. Running her hands over the flat of his stomach, Saoirse hooked her leg over his hip just in time for him to grind hard against her body.

“We’ll get caught,” he told her, nipping a series of bruising kisses along her neck. She didn’t care and clearly neither did he. Saoirse nearly had the tunic over his large wings—she’d become distracted by his hand kneading her breast—when the door flung open.

“Auden is perfectly…capable…” Azriel’s voice trailed off at the sight of his son in the middle of defiling the daughter of the High Lord beside him.

“Capable of what, exactly?” Tamlin demanded while just behind him, Alexander burst out laughing.

“I owe Soren so much fucking money.”

Neither Tamlin or Azriel acknowledged the consort of Day Court’s comment. Auden slid from Saoirse’s body, eyes cast downward. He was ready for whatever punishment their parents offered up. Saoirse defiantly pulled up the strap of her dress.

“Do you care to explain yourself?” Tamlin asked, claws punching from behind his knuckles. Saoirse waited but Auden merely shook his head. He did not care to explain. She did.

“Mates,” she said, eyes locked with her father. “We’re mates.”

Alexander’s laughter was deafening, echoing off the marble halls behind them. Tamlin whipped his head around to look at his eldest son but Alexander could not be cowed, not when he was free of Spring. 

“Did you ever intend to tell me?” Azriel asked his son, tone softening measurably.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Auden admitted. “I’ve asked her to marry me…and I didn’t think either of you would give us your blessing.”

“We’ll run away,” Saoirse threatened, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” her father retorted. “Of course you won’t run away.” “There is no arguing with mates,” Azriel added. 

“Just…give me a few days to adjust,” Tamlin mumbled, turning entirely from the room. Auden, clearly bolstered by their success, called, “And then I can marry her?” “I’ll pay for a wedding,” Tamlin agreed. “But this door stays open all week!”

“You heard him,” Azriel agreed once Tamlin was out of earshot. “Don’t shut this door.”

“I won’t,” Auden agreed, much to her displeasure. 

“Go tell your mother. She will be pleased,” he added. Azriel vanished, leaving Auden and Saoirse alone.

“That went better than I imagined,” he told her, eyes bright.

“Married, shadowsinger,” Saoirse added. “No more sneaking around.”

He smiled then, exhaling a breath he might have been holding all year.“No more sneaking around…wife.”

#auden really was sweating there for a minute #my man was ready for DEATH

[facultyloungecosplay]

First & Last WIP Challenge

Tagged by @theladydrgn (days late, as usual)

rules: post the first and last line of a current WIP;;; and tag as many people as there are words.

We have a dozen WIPs going, so here are a few recent ones.

Tagging: any fic writer who reads this!

From “Untitled Chef AU” (RWBY: cloqwork)

First: Glynda Goodwitch walked into the kitchen of L'oeillet Vert with a pair of wineglasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, ignoring the bursts of steam from the ovens and stovetops, the shouts of chefs and waitstaff, the clatter of metal utensils and frantic bodies that moved aside for her, sweeping trays to avoid her path. Her heels clicked on the tile, turning on one when she reached the center of the kitchen, adjusting her glasses as she observed the organized chaos that parted for her. 

The executive chef shot her a critical glance from above neat gold glasses as she settled atop a clean prep counter, placing glassware and wine beside her. “Any other chef worth his salt would throw you out,” he said, with a hint of a French accent, “for daring to put that on one of my prep stations.” 

“Your prep station is honored,” Glynda retorted, pouring wine into her glass. “Aren’t you done yet, Ozpin? You said nine o’clock.”

Last: “You’re projecting a little,” Ozpin said, “but I suppose I could stand to have more close friends than my pâtissier.”  

“Maybe we both need to get laid.” 

Ozpin laughed aloud, pulling her forward into the crosswalk. 

“That’s not a ‘no.’” 

Ozpin hummed noncommittally. 

“You dirty old man,” Glynda said, cackling. “Anyone in mind?” 

“For you?” 

“Oh, we’re not talking about me, honey.”

From “Gone (Are the Days)” (TDP: viravos)

First: They predicted rain that day. It didn’t come.  

The funeral progressed despite it, in spite of it, the weather that should have crowned a day of grief but – like the life they mourned – was absent. Viren stood behind the family in his dark suit, hands clasped uselessly on the staff in front of him, watching the first handful of soil hit the gleaming casket, the dull noise echoing back up to the ears of the living. He heard Claudia sniffle beside him and his hands twitched, as though his body knew to reach for her even while his mind forced his stillness.  

He hardly knew why he was even here. Of course – the funeral, respects, support for his children, who took the loss heavier than he did – there were reasons. There were just as many to avoid the entire thing. Sarai had always disliked him – and who could blame her, really? She had her reasons, and even Viren admitted, as he watched the polished casket lid begin to vanish under the earth, his children’s sniffles mixed with those of Harrow’s – 

Sarai had been right about a lot of things, Viren included.

Last: Aaravos.

“...oh.” 

“You know him?” 

“Of course,” Viren said, skimming through the search, gold eyes following as he scrolled past them. “Aaravos is...well. Any mage would know him. He’s – well. Legendary. I didn’t even know photos of him existed.”

Soren raised an eyebrow. Viren leaned back, disappointment seeping into his veins. “It’s impossible. Someone like this would never…” 

“Sorry, Dad.” Soren offered a reassuring pat on his shoulder. 

Once a fool, always a fool.

“I’m going to bed,” Viren said abruptly, suddenly unable to stomach the eyes staring back at him. He turned and left, trying to ignore the concerned face of his son illuminated by the face of someone too good to be true.

#THIS IS SO LONG MY APOLOGIES #fic things #our fic #tagged for us #viravos #cloqwork #please encourage me to actually finish these #OKAY so tumblr deleted my entire post when I looked at it sideways so here we go again

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Read more due to length, as I...seem to have a trouble just getting to the chub, I gotta insert a lot of extra to go along with it. But, I’m ponying up with that Ike/Ranulf content I promised. It’s sickeningly sweet and indulgent in fluff.

Ranulf knew Ike had ideas about leaving Tellius, now that everything was all said and done with the immediate conflicts. After all, there wouldn’t be much need for fighting forces like the Greil Mercenaries anymore -- at least, that’s what the plan was. As history has shown, they haven’t always been so great about keeping their peaceful promises. But, the Cat was highly aware of Ike’s dislike for the limelight; it had shown three years back in the Mad King’s war, and it was clearly starting to surface again with Ike’s aided defeat of the Goddess.

Ranulf couldn’t blame him, of course, but he could do his best to try and convince Ike to stay for a little bit longer -- long enough for him to settle his own affairs at least, so that maybe he could tag along with his Beorc friend wherever it was he had his sights set on.

“Enjoying yourself, oh mighty hero?” Ranulf asked, a look on his face like the cat that had got the cream as he sauntered up to Ike.

Ike made a noise in the back of his throat, something mixed between a chuckle and a groan. “Don’t even start with that! I just got away from some people who traveled all the way down here from Begnion…,” he muttered under his breath, shifting in his chair with an obvious discomfort to him.

Whether it was from having to shoo away some adoring fans, or the fact that the Crimean looked just a bit sandwiched into the chair itself, Ranulf would leave up to his own imagination for the moment.

See, while Ike had spoken about wanting to explore outside of Tellius -- something no one else had even thought of attempting -- he’d yet to actually start making any plans. Not too surprising to Ranulf, as he was aware Soren was more of the plan-maker between the two of them. Still, Ike had wanted to get away from the hero worship, and what better place to do that and not completely walk off the map than to visit Gallia? The Laguz weren’t exempt from staring at him in awe for his deeds, but they wouldn’t bother him about it like most Beorc did.

The food was another plus.

Those that had fought alongside the mercenary were well aware of his Laguz-sized appetite, and Gallia was fully equipped to help him sate it while he stayed out of the public eye. The Greil Mercenaries were a famous lot, but they never asked for much as far as pay went; as a result, food wasn’t always consistent, from what Ranulf gathered. It had been quite the sight to see Ike go all out when he knew there was no limitations on the supply.

Ranulf’s tail twitched from side to side, his smirk growing just a tad more as he looked Ike over. Gallia’s food was sure starting to show on the young man now, and it was positively delicious to observe.

“Well, I know someplace we can go to relax, if that’s what you need,” he suggested in an innocent tone of voice, smile still catty.

Ike’s interest seemed taken by the prospect of getting away from any other unwanted meetings, and only debated the offer for a moment before accepting. “I could go the rest of my life relaxing, and I’m not sure it would be enough,” the younger man remarked, hauling himself up out of his seat with only the slightest of snags; Ike might have filled out pretty well over the months he’d been here, but his strength hadn’t lessened any, and it only took a little extra oomph to pull himself free. “Don’t you have...ah, duties to be getting to, though?”

Ranulf rolled his mismatched eyes, already heading towards the door; the mercenary’s heavy footfalls following just a few steps behind his lighter ones. “Not today! I’m all yours in your hour of need,” he joked, tail swishing back and forth in a lazy motion.

Ike gave him a look, but it was easy enough to see that he wasn’t bothered much at all by the Cat’s teasing. They had gotten to know each other rather well over these past years. It was quick in the eyes of a Laguz, but a decent chunk to a Beorc. Ranulf supposed that made it a funny dichotomy, but he truly wouldn’t trade it for the world. Besides, now that the war was over, and everyone was focusing on rebuilding, they could explore the more casual parts of each other. They knew the other well in wartime settings, but in such relaxed states as this? Well, it was new territory, but it was something they didn’t shy away from.

After all, once you’ve fought side by side, bled and healed together, getting accustomed to home life should be a breeze.

They walked through Zarzi’s streets for some time, simply enjoying the day and each other’s company. As with most days, it was bustling in he capital. Gallia had mostly avoided the war touching its lands, and so there hadn’t really been a need to rebuild anything. What needed time to recover were the people, who had fought and died in large numbers against Begnion and Daein. War was terrible for everyone, but there was a hard line with Laguz -- especially among the Beast tribe. They could very easily get carried away, but it was that exact same trait that made them so pleasant to be around in peacetimes.

Gallians treated one another like family, so, no matter where you went, you were most likely to be stopped multiple times for a friendly chat or at least a greeting. It was something Ike had adapted to fairly quick, in spite of his more reserved social nature. He may not be much of a talker, but he enjoyed the feel of friendly conversation, and many in Gallia considered him family just like any other born within their borders.

They ended up dawdling here and there, speaking of everything under the sun with those that wanted to talk. From the pleasant streak of weather they were having, to the growing relations with Beorc nations, to which meats taste best with what spices. Eventually, though, Ranulf pulled Ike down an overgrown little path. It led out of the city proper, and straight into the closeness of the forest. Not quite a jungle, Gallia’s “sea of trees” was still impressive to behold. The forests here were old and hardly infringed upon, unlike in Crimea, where woods were chopped down for farmland. The air was thick and humid, dampening their hair as they continued along the path Ranulf was following.

“We’re almost there,” Ranulf assured his companion, looking back over his shoulder at Ike. It’d been a while since they’d trekked through the forest like this, and the path wasn’t exactly an easy one, but Ike was plugging along right behind him, not seeming too put out by the exertion. Sweat clung to his skin, and he was huffing and puffing a bit more than he would have back in the war, but there was obviously a pleasure to it all for the Beorc, even if it was more work nowadays. Sitting still for too long wasn’t something Ike did, so a hike like this was still considered relaxing to him.

“You say that like just coming out here isn’t enough for me,” Ike mused in an easy tone, his earlier discomfort clearly evaporated the further into the dense woods they got. “I like people well enough...even when they’re being outright ass-kissers, but this…?” The Crimean took a deep breath, a rare, unfettered smile on his face as he stared up into the canopy of trees above them. “The only thing that beats it is Serenes, and there’s...something about that forest that nothing else quite matches.”

Ranulf understood what Ike was saying. He’d been able to visit Serenes several times since it had been restored, and it was like stepping into another world entirely -- even as a Laguz. It was a place of peace, one that had endured great violence, but you felt like you could stay there forever, and never have the urge to fight again in the most calming of ways.

“Well, this might not be Serenes, but I think you’ll find it to be perfectly pleasant all on its own,” the Laguz practically purred, tail quivering in excitement as they finally reached their destination. A small clearing between the trees, easy to walk by if you don’t have the nose for finding things, a clear pool of water nestled among the soft grass. “Figured a little soak would do us both some good. Proper baths are all well and good, of course, but a good dip out in nature? Perfection,” he grinned, grabbing Ike by the arm and pulling him through the trees to reach the clearing.

“Hold on, hold on-- Can I at least get out of my clothes before you shove me in for a bath?” Ike laughed, deep and baritone in a way that set a shiver up Ranulf’s spine.

Eyes slitting in another wild grin, Ranulf released his grip on Ike and removed his hat in one smooth movement, tossing it at the base of one of the trees. Deft fingers started to work on the rest of his attire, a nonverbal cue for Ike to follow suit and hurry it up. Not one to be left behind, Ike was quick to start undressing. Ranulf wouldn’t deny that he watched from the corner of his eye.

Ike had a very similar stature to his father, big and bulky, especially for a Beorc. Now, where Greil had been obviously strong, his frame had clearly thinned out a little with his age; bulk and obvious muscle downsizing to more of a leaner musculature -- though there had still been an undeniable power to him. Ike was still in his prime, young and healthy. He was built like a brick house, his training so highly focused on fighting with Ragnell against a heavily armored foe that the only real result was for him to go from a somewhat stocky teenager to a heavyweight adult. His arms were still well muscled from years of swordplay, but months of a more lax living style had softened his edges more than just a little. As Ike tugged his shirt off, it was still possible to see those powerful muscles that caught the attention of many, but they were no longer prominent on his form. Good food, and lots of it, had generously applied a soft brush to his battle-hardened appearance.

His shoulders were broad and scarred, Ranulf’s eyes slowly grazing down lower to rounded pecs -- still firm, but meatier than they had been before. Further down, of course, was that near unfillable gut of his. Bare to the air now, it was clear to see that the Radiant Hero was well and into his retirement; his stomach was soft and pale, pooching over the belt of his trousers as he kicked off his boots. Ranulf’s tail flicked, the only obvious betrayal to his desire, already making plans in his head to get a good grab at those love handles that had settled in so naturally at Ike’s sides. Even if Ike sucked in his stomach and stretched, Ranulf would bet you wouldn’t be able to even see his ribs anymore.

Thick fingers started to undo the belt at his waist, and Ranulf swore that Ike was catching on, being a Gods damned tease about it all. A calloused thumb brushed along the underside of that well-fed belly, having to push some of the pillowy flesh out of the way to properly get at the buckle digging in to his gut.

It was sinful, and Ranulf wasn’t half as good about getting teased as he was at teasing. He diverted his attention to his own clothes, tossing them to the ground where his hat lay in record time. It was always nice to just let loose every now and then, Ike giving him a little striptease -- aware of it or not -- was just the big, juicy cherry on top. “You joining me or what, big guy?” he asked, taking a leap into the water. It was deep enough to be able to jump in like that and not injure yourself, the water sun-warmed and clear enough to see down to to the rocky bottom.

Ranulf stayed under the water for a moment, trying to collect himself. Eventually, he needed air, and so he broke the surface with an exhilarated gasp. He shook his head, flicking water out of his ears, eyes blinking open just in time to catch Ike jumping in after him, finally free of his belt and trousers.

Damn, that had been a short glimpse, but what a perfect ass.

“Pretty great, right? Do I know my relaxing getaways, or do I know my relaxing getaways?” Ranulf sung his own praises as soon as Ike resurfaced, the both of them resting against the grassy edge of the pool.

“Wouldn’t dream of going to anyone else for such advice,” Ike responded, running a hand through his wet hair.

They sat there for a moment, taking in the quiet of their surroundings. Ike with his eyes closed and his head tilted back, Ranulf sneaking as many looks as he could without getting called out so fast.

“...I do mean that, you know,” Ike spoke up suddenly, causing Ranulf to jolt a little, disturbing the water around them. The mercenary didn’t seem to take notice, or, if he did, he didn’t mention it. “I find myself...most at ease around you, and I don’t...just mean right now.”

Ranulf blinked at that, ears pricking forward as he listened. Ike wasn’t the sort of person you rushed or pushed into finishing his thoughts.

Ike dropped his arm back into the water, hair sticking up at odd angles. “You were always someone I could just...be with, regardless of what was going on. You’d worry about me or tease the hell out of me, but you never treated me as anyone but who I was. I’ve always appreciated that…”

Ranulf nudged the other’s shoulder, “Goes both ways, you know. You don’t have a disingenuous bone in your body, Ike. You might need correcting here and there, but you’ve always been open to learning how to treat people like...well, like people, no matter who they are.”

Ike rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his attention elsewhere. Gave Ranulf a nice view of his softened jawline, and that shouldn’t have been so attractive for how small a detail it was, but there it was, drawing his attention anyway. “I’m just trying to say…,” Ike trailed off, mumbling the last few words, even Ranulf’s good hearing not quite able to make out the garbled sentence.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were getting shy on me!” he laughed, though it was purely endearing rather than derisive.

The younger man’s gaze snapped back to Ranulf, cheeks tinged in a soft red that couldn’t be blamed on their hiking activities from earlier. “I like you. A lot,” Ike finally fumbled out in that blunt manner of his, hands fidgeting under the water. “I’d just...also understand if…”

Ranulf quirked his head to the side, the corner of his mouth edging up in amusement. Really, it was so easy to forget how young Ike was as a Beorc, and that the poor bastard really hadn’t had many opportunities to test out the battlefield that was courting someone once he’d properly come of age. “Mm, if I...what?” the Cat pressed, sliding in closer to Ike, his knee bumping up against the other’s thigh.

To his credit, Ike didn’t shy away from the contact, though he couldn’t quite seem to meet Ranulf’s gaze either. Huffing out a breath, Ike rubbed a rough palm over the curve of his stomach, shrugging his shoulders, “I’d understand if you weren’t really...interested that way. I’m not the brightest guy around, but I’m not totally oblivious. I know I’m not the same as I was not even a year ago now.”

A snort escaped Ranulf, and he couldn’t help laughing at the insinuation. Really, Ike might not be totally oblivious, but he didn’t catch a lot of things -- that, or Ranulf was better at being sneaky than he had originally thought. “Have I been treating you any different than usual?” he asked, giving Ike a serious look in spite of his jovial tone.

Ike seemed temporarily taken aback by his friend’s reaction, gears moving slowly in his head as he started to put things together. “...No, you haven’t.”

The Laguz cocked an eyebrow, waiting for it all to fall into place for the Ike.

Brow furrowed, Ike eventually made a noise of understanding, a quiet sort of oh.

Ranulf hummed, shifting in the water so that he was practically straddling Ike, legs locked about the mercenary’s thighs and hands going to squeeze at his soft sides. “Yup,” he confirmed, popping the p on his yup, “Let me make it perfectly clear, just so we don’t have any further...snags. I’ll take you anyway you’ll give yourself to me. This way, that way, whatever way you’re comfortable with. I’m interested in you, you idiot; soft edges or hard ones, it’s all just a bonus.”

Ike shook his head, a small but genuine smile on his face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Returning the smile, Ranulf allowed himself to get comfortable. “So, if we’re to really relax, I’m guessing we’ll need a bit of a break from Tellius, hm?”

“Well...That was my plan, but you’ve got Skrimir to rein in--”

“Pretty sure they can find another right hand man...So, as I was saying...Where’re we off to first?”

Ike thought for a moment, closing the short gap still left between them; a sweet, brief kiss, Ranulf’s lean form pressed close to his thicker one. “Somewhere we can enjoy a meal together.”

#male weight gain #male wg #ike/ranulf #chubby!ike #this got much longer than intended but ey #i'm here to write indulgent stuff so i may as well go ham

[araminia16]

Not An Illness After All (The Birth)

A/N: So I was originally going to post this tomorrow (Tuesday) but after I did another read through tonight after working on my tablet for my job for an hour and a half I realized I probably wasn’t going to change anything else so I’ll be merciful on you and post it today but it’s nearly tomorrow anyway. I hope I did these two continued justice in my portrayal.  Keep in mind I’ve gone through labor but not actual deliver but I am an RN and have watched loads of Call the Midwife so....  

XxOxX

The carriage lurched to a halt and Claudia’s foot slid unsteadily on the wet floor. A quick glance behind her and she could have snorted with the look of bewilderment on the elf’s face.

Claudia brushed white locks behind her own ear as Callum stumbled off his horse and nearly collided with Claudia on her way out.

He poked his head into the carriage and surveyed the liquid on the floor then assessed his wife, “Rayla. Are you okay?”

She had to blink a couple times before she answered, “Does it look like I’m ‘okay’ husband? I’ve made a mess all over the floor and--oh there’s another one.” She grimaced and held her back while she took several deep breaths.

“Okay. Well. This could have been timed a bit better with us being on the road and all.” He tried to sound flippant but it came out strained.

“I heard the commotion. Get in you fool boy so I can have a good look at her.”

Callum scrambled up and tried to avoid the worst of the water on the floor while he situated himself awkwardly at her back. The moon elf healer possibly midwife also entered the small space.

“This will hardly be the best area for a good once over and you will likely have very little in the way of modesty by the time this whole bit is done with so do as I say and I will make this as painless as possible.”

“What are you going to do?” Callum eyed her hands suspiciously as she pulled out a flask of something on her person and gave her hands a good douse.

“That’s alcohol.” Rayla sniffed and sneezed at the strong odor.

“It will do until we can find a better substitute. Now. Legs spread. Lean on your husband and bring your bottom down for me.”

“I don’t even know yer name and ya expect me ta give ya all that?”

“I’m Gellie. Now. Do as I say.”

Rayla managed to get into a position which was uncomfortable but sufficient as the healer reached up her dress and further. Callums hand quickly became uncomfortable as she squeezed his fingers for dear life and uttered a low whine of pain as more of the healers arm disappeared. Callum was about to utter  a word in some concern when she pulled back and Rayla relaxed her grip. “That bloody well hurt.” She hissed out.

“Three fingers. Mostly soft.”

“What does that mean.” Callum rubbed Rayla’s shoulder and arm soothingly.

“She’s a long way yet to go. A few hours at least.”

“Hours?” Came the outraged reply. “What do ya mean hours? It hurts now.”

“That won’t get any better I’m afraid. You aren’t open enough for the babe to come through. Your body will take care of that. We should get moving unless you want to wait here for the appearance of the little one?”

“So she’s not going to have it now then is she?” Callum wished he hadn’t spoken at all with the look of exasperation Gellie gave him.

“Not likely.”

“How unlikely? Give me a percentage.”

“I can give no guarantees but I can tell you first time mothers often go the longest with the first baby. There is time to get somewhere safer than the road, warmer, and cleaner as well.”

“Let’s go then. I want to be home. In the bath like we talked about.” Rayla huffed out.

“Katolis is too far. I can tell you that you will cross the border but you will likely have to stay at the fort close by.”

“My aunt Amaya is still stationed there. She helped my mom with this stuff.” Callum was pretty sure he remembered his aunt mentioning it when he told her about Rayla’s pregnancy.

“We should go then.”

“We should send and arrow to Katolis. Tell Ezran about the baby.” Rayla looked back at him as she sat up. “And tell your Aunt she should be expecting visitors.”

Callum reached up and rubbed the back of his head with a nervous smile, “We don’t have any.”

“What? What have I told ya about keeping at least one in a group with us?”

“That we should but I was busy. I’ll go ahead and let them know.”

Claudia piped up from outside, “Are you insane, Callum? Rayla’s in labor. You need to stay here. I’ll go ahead.”

“Claudia.” Callum started.

“Look. Soon you are going to have to start trusting me again. I know it’s been a long time and everything with Soren and my dad but we’ve stopped the dark magic. It’s already taken its toll on my body. I want to help you guys.”

Rayla and Callum exchanged a long look and he sighed, “Go and come back.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll be out there. It’s a bit cramped here. Oh and we will get some towels to soak up the mess.” Gellie exited the carriage just as another contraction started up.

Rayla’s hand clenched at the seat and she huffed and gave a low groan, “These hurt worse than the practice ones. It’s no’ fair.”

“Didn’t you feel them before?” He realized after he asked it might have sounded confrontational but if Rayla thought so she didn’t comment.

“Well I had a bit of a back ache. I still do. It just started getting bad when my water’s came.” She gestured to the floor. “It’s just our luck. A week overdue and on the road. The timing could have been better.” She rubbed her belly fondly despite her irritation.

“Well then we will just get to the border and cross it, then go from there. Perfect plan.” He opened the door. “Let’s move. We’ve got to get to the border to Xadia sooner rather than later.”

The carriage lurched forward and Rayla had to put a hand out to stop from lurching with it while Callum sat across from her. One of their party brought some towels to the two of them to put on the floor.

Though now that the healer had said the baby wouldn’t just drop out onto the floor and they had some time before the show would begin. Callum’s anxiety as well as Rayla’s had diminished but the nervous energy he exuded usually made her roll her eyes and smile. Now with his finger tapping his leg and said leg in a bounce with his eyes going from her to the carriage to wherever else she sighed, “Callum. You need to go outside.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Eyes instantly wide as he looked her over for any injury.

“Nothing but I think that if I you stay in here for much longer we both might lose our minds.” Another contraction pressed at her back and squeezed her belly as she breathed through it. “There will be some time yet before there is anything to be with me for. I want to get some rest if I can. This will likely take a while.” Rayla leaned over and placed a hand to his cheek before she kissed him sweetly.

Callum looked guilty, “But--I want to be here.”

“I know. And I want you to be here but this is not the most ideal place for you to hover. Ride next to the carriage if ya want. Or leave the window open.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” In truth she had her own anxiety and didn’t want Callum to see her fear yet with it being so early in the labor. The same thoughts from earlier in the pregnancy chose now to surface. Thoughts of being unworthy, of something being wrong with her child, or if things would change between them with this child. This wasn’t the place to address it and the labor would help her to distract herself. It was a good plan.

Callum still looked apprehensive but exited the carriage after a brief stop while Rayla continued to breathe through the contractions which were growing slowly and steadily more intense but not more frequent.

“Almost there, Rayla. Are you still okay?”

“Yeah. Just fine. Not having some wee thing try to get out o’ somewhere far too small.”

“The bridge is just ahead, okay?”

“Yeah.”

She heard the pattern of hoofbeats and the sound of the wheel change as they started across the bridge back to the human kingdoms. The crossing was so much longer than it was to Xadia and by the time they reached the dirt road beyond she had started to shake a little.

“Aunt Amaya.” The carriage stopped and she heard the sound of a few people dismounting. “Rayla’s here.”

The door opened to reveal the general with a stern eye but warmed when her gaze settled on Rayla.

“Are you well?”

Rayla nodded. In the past few years the she and the General had reached the level of a friendly relationship. Not quite the warmth of family but with the years of war and the death of her sister those prejudices were difficult to break. It had taken some time as well for Callum to teach Rayla sign language. It was a language she could understand more than speak with her four fingers some signs were impossible. Over time she had developed a type of shorthand for simple phrases her aunt in law taught her. “Hurts.”

Amaya chuckled soundlessly and offered a hand for her to take. When Rayla had managed to hobble her way out of the carriage with Callums’ help she surveyed her surroundings.

The fort looked so much more welcoming than it used to with banners aloft and the absence of so many guards. Callum spoke behind her, “Do you have a room for her?”

There was no reply from Amaya and Rayla couldn’t see them sign behind her.

“Good. I’m glad we can count on Claudia. No. Stop. She was absolved of her crimes and the ones her father made were punished accordingly.”

There was silence again.

“I trust her. At least with this. Do you have a midwife?”

Rayla knew Callum’s vocalizations were for her benefit as they moved slowly up to the door to the fort. She felt another contraction build and clung to the two people at her sides while she sagged and let the pain run through her while she huffed short breaths until it passed.

To her left someone put a lock of her hair behind her ear and she glanced over at Amaya who offered a small smile and released her to sign, “You remind me of my sister. She tried not to make much noise either. Everything will be fine.”

Somehow the older woman’s words made some of the unease dissipate. “Thank you.” She said slowly and Callum squeezed her side in comfort as they continued up the stairs and into the fort.

Eventually they made their way to a large room with a bed, chairs, a few tables and a decently sized bath along with a woman in a chair.

As they entered a woman stood from one of the chairs, “Hello your highness’s I’m Emily, a midwife. I came as soon as I was sent for.”

“You aren’t needed.” A voice from behind them called out. “She should be tended to by her own kind.”

“The child is half human. Do you have any idea if there are differences between a human and elven pregnancy? Or if the child will need things you have no knowledge of?”

“This isn’t a pissing contest. There will be a bairn exiting my body in what seems like a short while from now and I want all the help I can get with tha’. Okay?” Rayla put a stop to the impending argument before it could begin. She didn’t have the patience for it.

“Yes, ma’am.” They intoned.

“That’s my girl.” Callum kissed the side of her head. “Where to?”

“There.” She gestured to the bed.

“You will need to disrobe and put a birthing gown on unless you prefer to be naked.” The human Emily spoke up.

“In a while. I’m starving and I need to pee and I hurt.” She whined and Callum sat next to her.

“If you need anything at all send the guards for me. But I think you have all the help you need here.”

Rayla and Callum nodded and were both enveloped in separate hugs before the General left them to the mercy of the healers.

“How long has it been since your water broke?”

“A few hours.” Gellie replied before Rayla could tell the human midwife herself.

“When was the last time she was checked?”

“Just after the waters appeared. We do not check frequently after the water has broken. It leads to more childbed deaths and I will not allow you to check either for at least a few more hours. Her labor seems to be progressing well.”

“Good enough then.” The human woman approached the two of them now.

Callum extended his hand and gave Emily a handshake, “Is there any way the two of you could find us some food and drink? We didn’t have much on the road and I think it would be better for her to have something, right?”

The two women couldn’t exit the room fast enough and as soon as the door closed they both relaxed. “Callum. I don’t think I can handle it if they are going to do nothing but bicker the whole time.”

“I can send one of them away if you want.”

Rayla sighed and laid her head on Callum’s shoulder while he rubbed at her upper arm. “No. I think it might be best if they both stay for now.”

“How are you feeling?”

“One moment.” Rayla shifted as another contraction began its rise until it peaked a short time later and she relaxed, “I’m miserable. Can we be done with this?”

“You heard your mother. You better get moving. You really don’t want to see her when she’s mad.” He directed his words down to her bump and used his free hand to give it a rub. “I’m terrified.”

His confession didn’t surprise her but the fact that he voiced it did, “I am too.” She placed her hand atop his and fit her fingers in between the spaces there.

“Better to be scared together then.” He took a deep breath and released it. “Let’s do this. How hard can it be. We took an egg almost to Xadia while being accosted by various individuals in my kingdom then had to take a baby dragon all the way to the Dragon Queen. This is nothing.”

“Says the one who doesn’t  have to push this thing out of a place that should be far to small for it.”

“Oh.” The word laced with dread. “It’s why you are tougher than me. I could never do it.”

“No. You couldn’t.” She teased just as the door opened again and the two midwives brought several food and drink options and discussed the benefits of their choices to Rayla who didn’t particularly care she just needed to eat.

“Would you want to walk around the room a while? It might help the babe get into position and speed along your labor.” Gellie suggested after they had eaten.

Rayla and Callum shared a look, “While I’m contracting?” She couldn’t help the incredulity in her tone.

“We would be next to you as well as your husband though I can say it is rather unorthodox for a man to be in the birthing room.” Emily commented.

“This man isn’t leaving so you can forget that. We do this together.” Callum declared in a tone which brooked no argument. “Do you want to walk?” Gentler now.

“Anything to help get this wee beastie out of me I’ll give a go.” Callum helped Rayla to stand and as she began to walk he followed a few paces behind her. Contractions came and went as she walked determined around the edge of the room with the midwives taking shifts in and out of the room. She leaned against the walls with each ascent and peak with Callum as he pressed the heel of his palm into her lower back. Emily showed him that trick when they first began their walk and Rayla seemed to think it made them hurt less and so he would do it for as long as he needed to.

It had been a few hours since they had come to the makeshift birthing room and Rayla desperately needed to get some air especially with the contractions coming every three minutes.  Coupled with the fact they lasted for at least a third of their frequency it made her miserable. It wasn’t quite enough to take her breath away but she was getting there. “I want to walk the hall for a few laps. Callum?”

Callum took her arm in hand and they walked to the door. He crafted the symbol for Aspiro and let out a small breath to open the door. His self satisfied grin prompted a chuckle as they entered the deserted hall. Amaya must have ordered her guards to avoid this area.

Rayla had just completed one circuit around the hall when the next contraction buckled her knees and Callum caught her as she braced palms on the wall and moaned against the pain. “It feels worse down under.” She managed to pant out after the contraction finished. He hurried her back to the room just as she announced, “I’m going ta be sick.”

Luckily Gellie managed to bring a sick bowl just as she emptied whatever was left in her stomach with a choked off sound of despair. “Get her clothes off and get her where she wants to deliver.” The order was one that Callum had no objection to.

He helped Rayla toward the tub and let her take off as much of her clothing as she could before the next contraction and her moan of pain was almost too much for him to bear as he rubbed her back through it. He pulled the rest of her clothing off and she stood naked as the day she was born when the midwives returned.

“The tub then? Good choice. We might need to warm the water a little.”

They had talked at length about the way she wanted to deliver and after she spoke to other women who were in her same situation or had been in it before they all prefered the tub and though Rayla still had a fear of deep running water she enjoyed a good soak in the tub. “Ya going ta help him get my fat arse in here?” She bit out and the two midwives had a good chuckle as they joined Callum to maneuver her into the tub after Callum warmed the water with a rune from the sun arcanum.

She let a moan of relief escape her when she sank into the warm water. “This is moon sent.”

“Good. Now I get to climb in there with you while your man will stay at your back and hold your hand.” Gellie hitched up her skirt to her hip with short leggings underneath. Another contraction hit and they had to wait while Rayla breathed through it while she had death grip on Callum’s fingers. After the contraction finished Gellie gave orders for her to tilt hips up and spread thighs while she performed her check, “Excellent. Fully dilated and the child is working it’s way down well. Another few contractions and you should be able to start pushing.”

“Thank the gods.” Callum and Rayla whispered gratefully.

“Almost there.” He whispered into her ear before he kissed the top of her head and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb while the other rested on a bare shoulder while she leaned back into his chest where he sat on a chair behind her.

“When we tell you to start pushing you will have to feel it here and bear down as if you were trying to move your bowels but you must feel it here.” Gellie pressed down on a the bottom part of her vaginal canal. “I will be able to tell you if you are doing it well.”

Callum looked over from Rayla to the other midwife who set up a table with carefully placed instruments on a white cloth. She folded up towels and blankets as well and placed them nearby. “How long will she have to push?”

“Could be a few minutes or a few hours depending on how big the child is and how eager it is to come into the world and how well the mother does her job.”

“Five. At the most. You will listen to me and I won’t have any more of this foolishness ya ken?” She poked at her abdomen which definitely had changed shape even from a few hours ago. The kick she received in response choked out a laugh from her.

It was a few minutes and at least three contractions later when she felt the unbearable urge to push. By that time her position changed to where she was now on her knees and faced the edge of the tub where she could cling fully body to Callum and bury her head into his chest while her hands grasped at his shoulders and neck as she sobbed and groaned in pain.

Callum watched Gellie move behind her and downward. “Nearly there.” She encouraged gently .

Rayla shouted something intelligible into his shirt and though he couldn’t make out the words he knew they were not in the least bit kind.

“You have to push when the next pain comes, girl. Once the babe is born the worst is over.”

“You can do this. All you have to do is breathe. Breathe and push, okay?” He mumbled into her hair near her ear and Rayla remembered a time years ago where she thought Callum was dying and she spoke similar words to him. Where she first had the inkling of deep care for a boy she had only known for a short while. A care that developed into a deep friendship and into love over time. This baby was proof of it.

When the next contraction began it’s agony she gritted her teeth and tensed downward while her nails dug into cloth and flesh with a moan long vibrated into Callum’s skin while his arms wrapped around her held her upper half steady.

“That’s it. Give me two more of those and this little one shall be here in no time at all.”

Rayla panted wearily and looked up at Callum and he grinned down at her. “Did you hear that?”

“I did. I have ears. I’m already so tired, Callum.”

“It’s not just you. It’s me too. We help each other. You can do this. You have to.” The gentle encouragement chased away some of her annoyance at his part in this predicament she found herself in now.

“Then you can get in here and do this for me.”

Callum laughed and the rich sound danced in her ears while she laid her head back down onto his chest. He knew how to move so her horns didn’t catch him on the cheek or chin. Pain makes one learn quickly though Rayla tried to be conscious of them herself.

When the next contraction hit she screamed into the cloth again while she bore down but this time the pain did not leave her when she stopped. It remained a constant stretched burn though she felt a little something give way this time. .

“The head is born. Not much hair to speak of. You can look if you want.”

“No.” She muttered. “I’ll look after the rest of it shows up.”

“This next contraction I want you to relax your pushes. Little ones on my command. Pant instead of groan, yes? Do not give me a strong one. The child has to work it’s way free and turn a little.”

“Yes.” Rayla managed and felt so bone tired.

When the next contraction surged up she did as the midwife said and panted harshly from turned head into the air as she felt things move down there that shouldn’t. “Pant. Pant. Good girl.” And suddenly the pressure let up and she felt such euphoric relief she would have collapsed if not for Callum’s embrace.

The disturbance in the water behind them prompted her to turn around as the second midwife wrapped a stick armed creature in a towel and began to rub it vigorously. A strange flesh colored rope dangled from the child into the water. The cord. Callum thought absently though his focus was on the obscured bundle in the midwife’s arms.  

They didn’t dare breathe as they watched the midwives work. One of them brought a tube and Gellie placed it into the still not breathing child’s mouth while she put the other side into hers and sucked in. The sound of thick mucus loud in the near silent room.

The bundle gave a jerk and then a cough before the arms and legs properly pulled in as the child began to squall in earnest. The relief in the room almost something palpable as the midwife handed Rayla the new bundle with minor instruction on how to hold it properly.

It was the most beautiful sight either of them had ever beheld, “Hello then, little one.”

XxOxX

A/N: So now is where you get to leave me a comment on if you think it’s a boy or girl.. You don’t get any prizes except knowing you were right. :) I am also cruel to not reveal it yet but the next chapter will be out sooner than you think. Probably by the weekend if my work week doesn’t go to shite. But with another nurse gone it probably will. So give me some motivation. I’m going to need a lot of good vibes this week. See you soon Lovelies!

#Not an Illness After All #labor and delivery #not too gross #Amaya gets a guest appearance #Claudia is helpful #amniotic fluid is slippery #tub birth #supportive husband #rayla is not happy about this whole labor thing #chapter 4 #rayllum #rayla x callum #callum x rayla #half elf baby #I just love a cliffhanger