#they show up in her castle like QUEEN!!! WE MEET AGAIN and queen is like Oh Is It Tuesday Again Lol

[randomshyperson]

Heal - Scarlet!Wanda x Vampire!Reader - Kinktober #08

Summary: By freeing an imprisoned immortal from the Darkhold Castle, the Scarlet Witch did not expect to gain a friend who would help her heal the woman she tried to bury in the temple's wreckage. In return, Wanda might help you face the demons from your past that were locked away with you.

Warnings: (+18), service!top reader, praising, intimate smut, blood-feeding, vampire and witchcraft lore, and a lot of plot, implied depression and self-harming tendencies, really soft smut with explicit consent, mutual pining, friends to lovers | Words: 9.671k

A/N-> My only vampire reference is TVD, so expect many similarities to the show’s lore. And I repeat again that there is a sinful lack of stories that deal with the status of wizarding royalty of which Wanda is part. Please, she literally has the title of Queen of Chaos, her family has inherited the magic of chaos for generations, we need to talk about this. I hope you guys like this one, this story ended up having more depth than I expected and it was quite fun to write it.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

After destroying a thousand-year-old castle and not getting out of the impact zone, Wanda definitely didn't expect comfort. In addition to the pain of recent events, from realizing that she had finally become a villain, and was closer to the people who had destroyed her life than to the friends she once lost, she also had to see the clear fear in the alternative versions of the children she missed. So she put an end to it all, more tired than anything, and waited for the pain to go away. The blackout from the impact put an end to it, of course, and just like years before when she turned to dust after losing the only person she still had left, she breathed a sigh of relief into the darkness.

But Wanda woke up. And to her complete surprise, comfort came in the softest sheets she had ever felt, perhaps even more comforting than the expensive cloth Tony Stark had once bought for the rooms in Avengers Tower. The bed she was lying on could easily have been mistaken for royalty, and Wanda barely had time to become alert before a slightly unfamiliar face entered her field of vision.

"You." She gasped in surprise, her voice a little hoarse. Now conscious, she was aware of the pain around her body, but she could also feel her magic doing the hard work and taking the sensation away. You smiled gently and, without leaving your sitting position on her bed, waited for her to adjust to the mattress. Wanda frowned. "But why?"

You sighed, shrugging slightly. Now sitting up, Wanda realized that your lap wasn't empty. A breakfast tray was waiting for her as if you were aware that she would wake up soon and had brought the food just in time. The item was leisurely placed next to her, but Wanda continued to look at you, waiting for an explanation as to why someone who had disappeared almost the second after the first meet, reappeared to save her from the wreckage of her mistakes.

"I know you're confused, but please eat. You've slept for days, miss." It's your comment, but the witch shakes her head.

"Don't worry about it. It's... nowhere near the longest I've gone without food." The quiet confession about the period of darkhold abuse makes you sigh sadly, and Wanda feels a curiosity rise in her chest. You don't know her, so why do you care? 

Your hands move to the toast you've prepared for her, and Wanda bites the inside of her cheek as she finally notices the tray with your movements. Your breakfast choices are just right - delicious foods stare back at her. And you busy yourself with adding some jam to the toast that makes Wanda's mouth water.

"Forgive me for taking so long to find you, I was a bit overwhelmed upon returning after so long." You then declare, handing back the now-filled toast to one of the smaller plates. You push the item towards her as an invitation, but Wanda glares at you.

"Why did you bother coming back?"

Your eyes are kind in her direction. "I owe you my freedom."

Wanda chuckles short and incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous, I didn't even know what I was doing." She retorts immediately. "I saved you by accident, you don't owe me anything."

But you gesture to the food, and Wanda sighs in defeat, finally giving in. At the first bite, she feels the delicious jam on her tongue and sighs in satisfaction. It's amazing, she lets you know. You smile.

"It doesn't matter if our meeting was accidental, Wanda Maximoff." You state. "Your magic broke me out of my prison. If the idea of a debt doesn't please you, we can act as if upon rescuing you, I made us even."

Wanda hums with her mouth full, slightly distracted by the food. You look away, waiting for a moment, and she finishes chewing before speaking again.

"I didn't want to be rescued."

"I know."

She looks at you again, but you continue to stare straight ahead into the room. "Do you?"

You smile briefly. "Nobody who wants to live knocks down a castle on their head, miss."

The chuckle that escapes her is short, but it's the first sincere one in a long time. It's so dark, to joke about something so serious, yet she feels completely at ease doing it with you.

Wanda finishes another piece of toast before speaking again. "Do you remember the sorcerer who was with me before, when I freed you?" You meet her gaze, nodding in agreement. Wanda looks at you curiously. "He nearly shit his pants when he saw you running away from the temple. He tried to lecture me about it, and I dragged him out of there for it. But the point is... what did you do? He only told me your name. What was so terrible that your escape scared him so much?"

You sigh, getting up. Wanda imagines that she has offended you by asking and that you will leave without telling her the whole truth, and considers spying on your mind to find that out, but you just walk to the nearest drawers on the other side of the bedroom. When you return with an object in hand, Wanda wipes away the toast crumbs before accepting the item you hand her.

The old photograph makes her eyes widen. "Holy shit." She sighs impressed, getting a short laugh out of you.  Your picture wasn't a surprise, but the date from over three hundred years ago faded by the bottom. Wanda flipped the item to see the back, but your name there didn’t really explain how you were standing in front of her, as if no time had passed.

"Humans call us Vampires, but I've always liked the sound of Immortal better. Of course, the term vampire beats being called a demon or a bloodsucker." Wanda doesn't laugh at the joke, as she raises wide eyes in surprise at you. She continues to hold up the photograph, and you swallow. "I promise I won't try to harm you." Finally, she chuckles softly. You sigh in reassurance, even though the witch has just mocked your strength.

"I can't believe vampires exist." 

"Said the witch who traveled through the multiverse a few days ago." Wanda smiles, handing the photograph back to you. 

"Fair point." She murmurs. Restless, you wonder what you can do to improve her mood. She seems so sad.

Perhaps your stories could distract her. 

"I was imprisoned in Darkhold Castle a few centuries ago." You tell her, attracting her curiosity again. Your hands go into your pockets so that you can regain some ground over the full attention of such beautiful and mesmerizing irises. "There are other mystical authorities, apart from Kamar-Taj and its mages. In particular, a council of vampires. I disagreed with some traditions and was sentenced to imprisonment, but my capture was not quiet. Let's just say I earned that tomb you rescued me from, Miss." Wanda nodded in understanding, offering a small smile that ensured she wasn't judging you. It would be comical to do so, after everything that had led up to this moment. Adding to the count of her own crimes, she apparently unleashed an immortal mass murderer.

Wanda looks around, sighing softly. "I presume this place is yours."

You nod but look away from her. "Many of my properties were lost with my imprisonment. Taken back by the Council, or even stolen by other creatures. I'll deal with these usurpers later." The comment made Wanda bite the corner of her mouth. She'd never seen a vampire fight, and you seemed so sure of your own strength over anyone who stood up to you. It was attractive somehow. She pushed the thought away faster than it came. "Of course, you're welcome to stay as long as you need, even if I'm not around."

The statement makes Wanda chuckle in surprise, her cheeks slightly warm. "What? I can’t accept that. I will certainly not abuse hospitality-"

"Don't be ridiculous." You repeat her previous words with an easy smile, and the casual comment sounds different from your formal attitude so far that It's so charming that Wanda has to look away awkwardly, surprised by her own perceptions. "It's a pleasure to have you as a guest. And honestly, it's nice to have someone around after so long." The sincere confession makes her smile. Wanda understood loneliness well. You sigh. "There's enough room in this house. You can stay as long as you need."

Wanda nods. "How exactly did you get me here? And where is here exactly?"

"Northern Europe, but I'm not sure if the country's name remained the same as it was three centuries ago. And I didn't want to carry you so far from the castle, and I figured you didn't intend to return to Nepal and their Kamar Taj’s mages as well."

Wanda grimaces. "What do you mean with ‘carry me’?"

You chuckle slightly. "You were unconscious, Miss Maximoff. And buried under rubble when I found you. We don't have the same magical abilities,  so I can’t use the power of the mind to move objects or people. I picked you up, and brought you with me."

She needs to see this, and the invasion in your mind caught you off guard. Flashes of memories turn clear in your head, your figure pushing rocks out of the way until you find Wanda unconscious. You actually picked her up in your arms and started moving. At some point, you found a car, but good kilometers on the ice at high speed were walked.

Wanda leaves your mind with a sigh, and for the first time, you look upset.

"Please ask next time."

She's still coming to terms with the fact that you ran through the snow with her in your arms to apologize. "You walked half a continent for me?"

You shrug. "I ran, to be fair. Don't worry about that, it wasn't any trouble. My kind has enough strength and speed for a journey like that."

But the ease didn't detract from the significance of the attitude. Wanda could hardly remember the last time anyone had done anything for her - not even Vision, who was her partner, seemed to share any guilt when signing accords that wanted her in jail; And now a stranger was rescuing her at the end of the world just to bring her to safety, without expecting anything in return.

Her silence makes you clear your throat. "I'll give you some privacy. There's more food if you want it, and this is a suite, so the toilet is through that door. I've also taken the liberty of ordering clothes in your size while you’ve been asleep, they're all in the closet. The whole property can be explored, please feel free to do so. There’s a library and art rooms. And please, if you decide to leave, say farewell first."

Wanda smiles tenderly at your request, and you turn away. She finally realizes that you look very tidy, and calls out to you before you can leave the room.

"Are you going out?"

"Just for a few hours." You answer, frowning at the way her expression falls. "Is something wrong?"

Wanda sighs. "I just… don’t wanna be alone."

Despite the sympathy in your eyes, you hesitate. A hand on the doorframe. "Forgive me, miss, I promise I won't be long and that we can spend the rest of the day together." 

Wanda waves your concern away, starting to stand up. "Relax, I'll be fine, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your appointments. I'll explore the house while you're gone."

But despite her casual attitude, you call out to her with a certain seriousness that makes Wanda look at you again. There's something in your expression that makes it clear that you didn't buy Wanda's act at all, and that you can clearly see that she was being serious about her loneliness. Your eyes had a guilty aspect because you couldn't stay. 

You sigh, looking away as you explain: "I must feed myself, Miss Maximoff. Please don't think I'm avoiding your company."

She is slightly surprised by the confession and doesn't know exactly what to say about it. She decides to just nod, without the courage to question you further on the subject even though she's dying to know exactly in which way you're going to feed yourself.

And when you leave her alone, and she wanders around the huge rooms of that mansion, she can't help wondering where you are, if it's like in vampire stories, and you're in some alley cornering an unwary human, or if hunting animals is enough. She becomes so absorbed in her own doubts that when you return, she hasn't even finished seeing the whole place.

"Having fun?" Your question startles her slightly. She smiles, turning her attention away from the art paintings in the room and meeting your gaze again.

"You move silently."

"A talent we share."

Wanda chuckles and waits for you to approach her completely. Side by side, she is the first to speak.

"Everything here is very beautiful." She says softly. "And I may not be centuries old, but I'm no fool. It sounds too good to be true. Be honest, Y/N. What do you hope to get from me?"

You frown, taking one hand out of your pocket to gesture a little. "You have a suspicious nature, Miss Maximoff."

She snorts softly." Y/N..."

But you smile, and Wanda gasps softly because your hand moves to her face, a gentle touch to move a strand of hair out of the way of her eyes. "Not everyone wants to take something from you, Miss. Some people just want to give." Wanda ignores the intensity of your gaze, the quickening of her heartbeat, and raises her hand to grab your wrist and interrupt your intention to stroke her cheek straight away. Her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion in your direction, although your smile never falters. "I could just force you to talk."

"There's no need for that, we can talk over dinner."

She hesitates, aware of the heat on her cheeks. You seem to have a personal victory and Wanda lets go of your hand immediately. 

"Wipe that smile off your face, it's not... that kind of dinner. We don't even know each other." She mutters embarrassedly. You return to your previous position, relaxed with your hands in the pockets of your dress pants and Wanda crosses her arms annoyed at the way her stupid brain keeps finding you more attractive every time she looks at you. 

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, miss." You retort humorously. "It's a strictly professional dinner."

She rolls her eyes, turning away to hide her smile from you.

"Just introduce me to the rest of the house."

"It's funny, all witches are always bossy." You comment, letting her gently pat your shoulder even though you could easily escape the gesture if you wanted to.

-&-

"I didn't know vampires cooked."

You chuckle, without taking your eyes off the knife cutting the vegetables. "Have you met many vampires?"

Wanda bites back a smile, rolling her eyes softly. "No, you're the first." She says, watching from the counter stool as you masterfully prepare dinner. "But I thought you guys didn't need to eat."

"We don't, not food at least." You retort gently, even though the implication makes Wanda's eyes sparkle with curiosity. You, despite being busy preparing the meal, notice the slight excitement and give a soft laugh. "If wished, my body can imitate all the biological functions it had before I died. This includes food." To illustrate, you take one of the cut pieces of carrot into your mouth, chewing and swallowing as you finish chopping the vegetables. Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, gathering the courage to ask you what she wishes to know.

When you pour the cut vegetables into a pot, she clears her throat. "Would it be insensitive if I asked how it happened?"

"Very." You smile back. Wanda sighs slightly, feeling like a little child trying to be liked. 

Please, please, notice me and talk to me.

The fire is lit, you wash off the excess vegetable stock and wipe your hands on a tea towel. You speak again.

"It's 2024, which means that in the winter it will be 320 years since my transformation." You begin a little nostalgically, your hands resting on the counter behind you. "Twenty was the age at which I died."

Wanda frowns. "You were so young."

"Yes, I was." You agree with a sad smile. "I used to work here, right in this mansion." Wanda adjusts herself, curiosity taking over completely. "I was raised by this family all my life, and when I fell ill, they decided there was no longer any place for me here."

The witch swallows dryly but doesn't interrupt your story. You look down, bringing your hands in front of your stomach to turn the larger ring you're wearing between your fingers.

"Sick servants would be sent away, so as not to spread the disease to the rest of the house. I died on the road."

Wanda frowns slightly. "Who bit you?"

"Bit me?" You retort in confusion. 

She chuckles awkwardly. "Yes, that's how it works, isn't it? Vampires bite humans and turn them."

It's your turn to laugh, a little impressed. "What? No, by the gods! Imagine how many of us there would be out there if every time a vampire fed, he turned someone? No, no, it's a bit more complicated." You comment casually. "You see, there's an immortality spell, created by the same author of the book that was with you when we met. Original vampires are made by ancient magic, and these can have bloodlines. Weaker vampires are transformed by their blood. And others can be created, even weaker by their descendants. The trick is to die with magical blood in your system so that your soul will be trapped by the magic and will not leave your body. It is then reanimated a few hours after we die. To complete the transformation, we must feed."

She absorbs your words for a moment. Until she finally asks: "Who transformed you?"

You lick your lips, shifting your eyes to the pot as if to confirm the cooking time, before turning away from the counter. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

She follows you around the mansion, way past the kitchen to another level. The entrance hall extends into a long corridor with many old paintings. Finally silver doors at the end.

"This is the main suite of the mansion." You clarify, fiddling with a bunch of keys kept in your pocket until now. Apparently, the only locked room was that one. "It's been adapted, moved from the upper floor to here on the lower level since, at the end of her life, the owner couldn't take the stairs."

Once unlocked, you push the doors open with both hands, exposing the immense royal suite inside. Wanda thinks it looks a lot like fantasy books and is busy admiring the decorations when she comes across a painting on the wall that knocks the air out of her lungs.

"What...?" She approached with uncertain steps until she was touching the painting with her fingers, groping for the drawing of a face that could easily be mistaken for her own. "How is that possible?" She demanded to know, turning to you.

You were still standing in the doorway, your hands in your pockets. "This is your ancestor."

"And why the hell does she have my face?"

"Heritage?" You retort good-humoredly, but Wanda snorts incredulously, advancing towards you angrily. You quickly raise your hands in surrender, a nervous laugh escaping as you see the fury in her eyes. “I’m joking, dear lord! I didn't mean to upset you. Let me tell you the whole story!."

"It better be a very good one." She retorts, watching you intently as if expecting a kidnap attempt.

You sigh, nodding before turning your face to the photo. "Her name was Elizabeth. She's gone if that's not obvious. This painting was done over four centuries years ago when your family was still known as the Maksymovs. They lived well, your ancestors, as you can see from the amount of gold in this manor. But sorcery and witchcraft were never very well-liked anywhere, and just like the rest of us, your family was hunted down." You say, stepping aside to open the curtains and light up the room. Still, on your back, you continued to talk. "I was just a little girl when Lady Maksymov took me in, Elizabeth’s mother. I cleaned and cooked, and I was lucky enough to be allowed inside the mansion. To share the room with the family. All due respect to their memories, but my Lady was not a decent person. She was cruel and harsh and preferred to die on the mountain of money than give a little to the children she watched depart for this place. I stayed here because I had no other choice in life, and when the neighbors began to question what she was doing in the basement, she was taken away just like her children.  And unlike her mother or any of her siblings, Elizabeth was not a very talented witch. Her magic was dormant. That poor woman, always so sad under the cruelties shouted at her by her relatives. She could never master chaos but it got better when she gave in to the darkhold's allure. Unfortunately for the servants, her gentle personality was gone once her magic control was improved. I remember her dark fingers chastising me every time I failed to fold the sheets correctly."

Wanda swallowed at the anger hidden. Your posture was enough for her to believe your words.

“Why did she turn you?”

You smile sadly. "I was just a means to an end." You reply. "Elizabeth was what they called a Siphoner. Although descended from a powerful witch lineage, she couldn't generate her own magic. She could only steal it from elsewhere, either from a magic book or from a vampire." 

Wanda sighs as she understands, and you chuckle in upset. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You weren't even close to existing back then."

She moves closer. "Still, on behalf of my family, I'm sorry." The witch says as gently as she can. "I can hardly imagine how painful that probably was."

You shrug, trying to be casual. "That was a long time ago, Miss Maximoff." You mumble before sighing. "And it didn't work out the way she wanted either. Elizabeth didn't intend to use me as her magical reservoir for so long. She wanted me to transform her. Make her a heretic, a vampire-witch hybrid so that she could steal magic from her own nature. And like a good servant, I did just that."

Wanda could feel the force of your painful memories with her telekinesis, flashes of vivid images in your mind begging to be relieved. A personal torture. 

"Let me guess, that was the rule you broke that put you in that tomb."

You lower your head, looking very upset all of a sudden. "No, Miss Maximoff. I was loyal until I wasn't anymore." Wanda frowns in confusion, but you sigh and stare at your own reflection in the window. "The abuse of the Darkhold destroyed Lady Elizabeth. Not even the spell of immortality could heal her, remove the rot from her soul. We traveled the world, searching for potions and creatures and anything we could find to help her, but I knew that the slaughter she was doing in the name of her own health had to be stopped. When our last trip ended, I told her I wouldn't help her anymore."

Wanda can see clearly now; the wrathful recollections of a witchy lady with an almost demonic appearance. The hold of the Darkhold on Elizabeth's soul. How you're only trying to defend yourself when you strike back.

You sniffle, turning your face away, and Wanda blocks your memories from her mind immediately.

"No greater dishonor than ingratitude." You mutter. "I shouldn't have turned my back on Elizabeth. She died alone in this empty mansion, taken by her illness. I returned to a rotten land wracked by dark magic. I restored every stone and raised the mansion to its original state. I lived as a vampire for a decade before I was captured. Elizabeth, in her last vengeful act, left a letter denouncing all her family's crimes to the magical authorities of the time. A lineage who survived the witch-hunts, chased by their own kind like animals. I wore the same coat of arms and slept in the family mansion, so they didn't care that my surname wasn't the same. But I wasn't a witch to die, and the darkhold refused to show the executors exactly how to kill me. The solution was a prison."

You're surprised that Wanda reaches for your hand, but you don't pull away. She also gives you a small smile.

"Three hundred years is too long to punish someone who had no choice." She says, the gesture of her thumb caressing your palm making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Definitely too long without touching someone was messing with your head. Little did you know, Wanda was going through something quite similar. Starved for physical touch. "Is that why you're being so generous? Do you think you owe this family a debt?" You swallow, nodding, and Wanda sighs. " Sweetheart..."

"Please let me serve you." Your tone is almost desperate, Wanda shakes her head. "Please-"

"This isn't the 1700s, Y/N. I won't be your lady." She assures you, her grip tighter. "You're a person, not a property."

"I'd be dead if it weren't for Elizabeth-"

"She was cruel and selfish, and she used you to your last breath. And beyond!" Wanda interrupts, not losing her composure when you huff impatiently and pull your hand away. "You can grumble all you want. I'm not going to honor the memory of some slave owner, family or not. You're free to go."

"But I don't want to leave, Wanda." You snap, almost pleading. "This is my home. Serving your family has always been... my purpose. Turning my back on it made me lose everything. And then you saved me, and for a second, I thought I could see Elizabeth again. I ran to this place, and I realized how much time had actually gone by." You sniffle, your hands going to Wanda's shoulders. "Please. Caring is the only thing I know how to do right."

Wanda sighs, her hands finding your wrists. "This isn't caring, Y/N, this is servitude. I would never ask this of you." Your expression falls as if you're being rejected. Wanda stops your hands from moving away. "But I could use a friend."

Your face lights up, and Wanda smiles too because she thinks you look so beautiful now. "Oh, that... is really very sweet. I'd be honored."

The witch chuckles. "You're adorable. Come, our lunch should be ready soon." She doesn't mention that you two walk into the kitchen hand in hand, and you don't mind, so you don't say anything either.

-&-

"I can't believe you don't know what McDonald's is."

"And I can't believe you've never been to the Opera, but here we are."

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief at your response. You're sitting on the living room floor, or rather on cushions on the carpet because you refused to sit so informally and she was still working on getting you to relax into the casual way of living life in that century. 

Weeks into a roommate routine, your activities consisted of having meals together and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. You'd spent 300 years imprisoned, and Wanda had a multitude of things to introduce you to, while you'd been raised by the ancient witch family of the ancestors of a woman who knew little about her origins. You had as much to tell as she did.

Most days when you two would leave the Mansion, you would experience things that you had never experienced before. Restaurants, food trucks, and even the invention of cars or electricity. The Mansion needed to be restored too, but Wanda was happy to know that it hadn't been abandoned.

It was magically hidden, and she had distant cousins from very old marriages in her distant line. It was one of the best pieces of news she'd ever received - to know that she wasn't the only Maximoff left.

The Manor had been cared for over the centuries by escape witches, some of whom, like Elizabeth, had their powers dormant and lived normal lives under that roof. Until the place was finally inherited by her great-aunt, Tatiana, who was living in New Orleans, and Wanda would visit once the work on the mansion was finished.

She had no idea where you got the money for a whole restoration team, and you laughed when she asked, offering as an answer only the information that vampires can persuade people.

That's how you ended up on the living room floor, finishing gathering old belongings that needed to be protected from the paint restoration and set-up of that chamber.

"It's nice that some things have been preserved so well." She comments, stealing a quick glance at your figure distracted by sorting letters. You look good in this century's clothes that Wanda helped you pick out. The barely buttoned plaid shirt makes Wanda hold her breath every time she catches herself letting her gaze fall to your collarbone. 

"Rich families often treasure stuff." You retort with an easy smile. You stack a few letters before opening the next box of items and gasp slightly when you find something very valuable inside. "Look, I think you'll want to keep this."

The small item is placed in her palm: A gold button with an "M" engraved on it. The family crest. Wanda doesn't know why, but it makes her eyes water, and she gives you a tearful smile as she thanks you.

But despite this balanced relationship and pleasant routine, there was still the elephant in the room.

Every evening, you went out to feed yourself. For almost two months, Wanda didn't ask any questions. Even though she was dying to know exactly how, or even who.

But she didn't want to be invasive or even sound like someone obsessed with your fangs.

She would wait for some casual moment to bring up the subject. Perhaps at the next dinner party, with a joke, and then she would ask if you could show her how it was done.

Luckily for her, another witch was even more interested in the story.

Tatiana was an expert enchantress. She lived in an apartment in the heart of New Orleans and had a very busy pub, and to no surprise, frequented mainly by mystical beings. It was Wanda's first time in a place of that kind.

She was so excited to meet another member of her family that she almost forgot her last worries. It was her aunt, in between many colorful drinks after an afternoon of introduction, who brought up the subject again.

"So tell me, sweetie, all this work to restore the Maximoff household. It must be exhausting even for a vampire." Tatiana began with a smile. Her curly hair fell in waves down her back, and for the third time that night, Wanda noticed that green eyes were probably the only physical feature that most of the Maximoff women shared. Her aunt has a dangerous smirk on her lips as she looks in your direction, and Wanda swallows dryly as she realizes that it's the flirtatious kind. "We allow feeding in these parts."

You're taken aback. You chuckle awkwardly, aware of the two witches' attention in your direction. The crowded bar seems to get even smaller.

"I'm fine, Tatiana, don't worry." Wanda thinks you're lying. You can never maintain eye contact when you do, and she also often finds it charming how a vampire can be so bad at telling lies. "I had some blood before I got here-"

"By Morgana, that was several hours ago!" Tatiana cuts in, gesturing excitedly to the waiters. She was very happy to meet Wanda too and had been drinking since early morning in celebration. "You know, I used to date a vampire back in the last century. He had a restricted diet of animals and always looked pale and hungry. Are you one of those vegetarian vampires too?"

The question is rhetorical, she doesn't even hear your confused mutter "I don't think vegetarianism works like that". She's busy with the waitress, whose irises redden as soon as Tatiana speaks to her. The girl is younger than everyone else there and is clearly bewitched.

"There you go, dear, you can have a taste." Offers the woman, to which you choke in surprise.

"What? H-here? But..."

"Now, don't you act like a good Samaritan, Miss L/N." Tatiana retorts in a provocative tone, resting her chin on one hand. "I know what you got up to before you were imprisoned. Feeding off a waitress is nothing."

You're immediately crestfallen, your face flushing with shame. Wanda looks at her aunt with irritation.

"Don't talk to her like that." The younger witch says sternly. "'She's already received enough of a punishment.

Tatiana chuckles wickedly, tilting her head gently. A very familiar gesture indeed. "Let's get a few things clear, Wanda. The only reason I didn't rip that usurper vampire's head off the moment she set foot in my town was because she brought my niece back to me. The fighting separated our families, I never knew I had nephews. Do you think you would have joined that group of dressed-up Americans if I'd known you were a genuine Maximoff? No, dear, I would have raised you. Restored our coven, taught you magic, as it should have been. As it would have been if this ungrateful little blood-sucker had fulfilled the role she was given. Every spell has a price, and she didn't pay for this one she so boldly displayed for a decade of fortune-raising."

"I regret it very deeply, miss-"

"No, you don't apologize for any of this." Wanda interrupts you with a gentle squeeze on your wrist under the table. With a serious expression, she faces her aunt. "Let's actually get things straight, Auntie. You don't talk to her like that. Ever. You're not going to use something that happened three centuries ago against someone who has spent all this time imprisoned in a tomb, paying for crimes she didn't commit alone. It seems that witches, especially from this family, have a habit of evading accountability. I know that well." Tatiana gives a little smile, clearly aware of Westview, or what came after. Wanda doesn't hesitate. "She's my friend. And she's been through enough. All she's done since she came back is look after me, and I'm not going to accept this kind of treatment from anyone, not even my blood. And considering history, especially my blood."

Without contradicting, Tatiana nods in understanding, busying herself with lighting one of the cigarettes on the corner of the table. The colorful smoke wafted upwards as she finished a long drag.

"As you please, Scarlet Witch." The elder woman finally replies, and you swallow dryly, stealing a glance at Wanda to see if she might lose her temper at the slight challenge in her aunt's tone.

Damn, you'd forgotten how the Maximoffs had a rather dangerously weak ego to offend, especially if challenged.

But luckily for you, Wanda forced a smile, and the tension at the table eased. Tatiana dismissed the waiter with a nod and went back to talking about business in the city as if nothing had happened.

For the rest of the evening, Wanda drew patterns on the palm of your hand under the table.

-&-

Around midnight, when the desserts were finished but the bar seemed livelier than ever, you felt really hungry.

The witches were engaged in animated conversation about the times in Sokovia, how Tatiana missed the opportunity to find out about the Maximoffs after the surname grew more common around the country for a few years before disappearing again, and you used the opportunity to escape for a few moments.

A quick snack, just to satisfy your hunger. After all, you always kept yourself full around Wanda; you'd never forgive yourself if you lost control around her.

You make your way through the crowded bar, taking one last look at the back table before making your way to the exit. You're almost at the door when someone purposely bumps into you.

"Hey, better watch where you're going." Warned the corpulent fellow; he was at least ten centimeters taller and had a strong distinctive smell that caused you an instant anxiety. 

Wolf scent.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." You mumble, ready to bypass him, but he steps in your way again. 

"We don't like strangers around here." He informs you with a small smile, showing off his canine fangs. "You're lucky we have our orders, miss."

You sigh slightly. "Who are you again?"

"The name's Victor Creed, but everyone calls me Sabertooth. You know, because of these little beauties here." He points to his fangs with conviction. "They grow much bigger during the transformation. I once ripped the head of one of your kind with them." The story is clearly told to intimidate you, but your unimpressed expression makes the man clear his throat. "Don't go wandering around, Tatiana can't protect you on the outside."

You force a smile. "I can take care of myself, wolf, don't worry." You move around him to finally leave, but even with his back turned, Sabertooth laughs.

"Alright then, go for a walk while I introduce myself to your little witch. Do you know if the Scarlet Witch is looking for better watchdogs? If she's as stuck-up as the rest of the family, maybe I'll write to Kamar Taj about where she's been hiding."

The thing is, maybe you've spent too much time with the Maximoffs all your life. And your temper is just as bad as theirs.

Victor has barely finished his teasing, and you've already grabbed him by the arm, mashing him into the ground like a lump of flour. The commotion immediately attracts the attention of everyone around, but until the crowd fully identifies what's going on, Victor has already used his wolf-like speed to get to his feet and advance on you.

He's so confident about his own strength that it takes him a whole moment to realize that your fist has already gone through his chest.

"Give me one good reason not to spread your guts on this floor, Mr. Creed." You say with an unwavering expression, your hand clenched around his barely beating heart.

Victor chokes on his own blood, his muscular hands try to push your shoulders back, but you don't move an inch. He grunts in pain.

"I-I take it back." He gasps, but you squeeze a little harder.

"That's not a reason."

The man breaks down in a sob. "P-please. I'm begging you. I wasn't thinking-"

It would be so easy, just to kill him. Rip the heart out of that arrogant wolf and let him drop. You never forgot the feeling, the predatory hunger for blood and violence burning in your veins. Nor Elizabeth's disappointed look every time you ended up covered in blood and it didn't do any good.

Letting go of the heart, and pulling your hand out, you saw Victor's wound heal immediately. A full moon must have been just around the corner for a wolf to heal so quickly.

His release drew your attention to the rest of the pub. All those people, watching the scene with mixed expressions of horror and disbelief on their faces. Some clearly recognized you, others seemed surprised to witness a werewolf of that size being beaten so easily.

Vitor's blood stained the blouse Wanda gifted you, and you swallowed down the urge to vomit.

While you were trying to recover from the interaction, a duo cut through the crowd, and Tatiana's short giggle made you wince.

"Keep her in line, Wanda. We don't make a mess this close to humans in this neighborhood." The witch warns but Wanda is staring at you in complete mesmerization. You shake your wrist gently, letting the excess blood drip onto the floor before you start to move.

The adrenaline of the confrontation has starved you.

-&-

You barely enter the first alley before Wanda catches up with you.

"Where are you going?"

But you don't answer the question, you just keep walking and retort: "Go back inside, I won't be long."

For a moment, you think she'll obey, but how foolish of you. Wanda was probably the most stubborn Maximoff you've ever met.

She almost gives you a heart attack when she appears in your path, making you jump backward.

"What the hell...?"

"You're shutting me out." She declares, frustrated. You swallow dry, shaking your head.

"No, I'm just going for a walk to clear my head. See you at the apartment-"

"Taking a walk is what you're calling it now? I'm not an idiot, I know you're going to feed." Wanda interrupted annoyed, getting in your way and stopping you from fleeing. "Why do you keep trying to hide this part of yourself? I don't care that you're a vampire."

"Wanda, please, just move."

"No."

"Wanda."

She crosses her arms. "I wanna watch." 

You choke, chuckling nervously. "Excuse me?" 

But she doesn't lose her cool, nodding. "I want to watch you feed on someone."

Wanda imagined some reactions to the suggestion: anger, indignation, mockery. She didn't think you'd turn so clumsy, with rosy cheeks and unable to look her in the eye.

"You're a very odd individual." You mumble shyly, and she has to giggle confusedly, losing her serious pose to adjust the collar of your blouse. 

"Pleaseee." She stretches out the word, liking the way a smile breaks across your lips or especially the way you stare at her mouth when she talks like that. "I'll behave. I'll just stay put and watch. I've never seen it happen before. Please, honey? Just once."

You sigh in defeat, and Wanda taps her hands before jumping on your neck, and hugging you excitedly. It's a very difficult struggle to keep your fangs away with her so close.

It doesn't even last half a minute, but it feels like an eternity because you want to feed and everything always moves slower if the vampire focuses on hunger. 

"It's not going to be anything special, I don't want to cause a scene in your aunt's neighborhood." You let her know, thinking you need to talk a bit to push the dizziness away.

Wanda smiles excitedly. "Anything will be great, darling. Come on, I'll be right behind you."

It's easy to find prey in a place like New Orleans. You end up deciding on a restaurant waiter, isolated in one of the alleys. He's a young adult, distracted by chores, and you almost give up because of the smell of garbage so close by. But it's a very good isolated opportunity to waste like this.

Your fangs are already out when there's a noise behind you.

Wanda has bumped into something, loud enough to attract the boy's attention, who is startled by the two figures in the alley. One glimpse of your vampiric appearance and he's stumbling frightened away before starting to run.

You sigh incredulously, and Wanda appears in your field of vision.

"Sorry, it was..." She falls silent, surprised that you haven't gathered your usual looks and absorbing every detail of your face now. From the fangs to the completely darkened eye sclera. When she speaks, her voice is much huskier. "An accident."

"It's okay, it actually tastes better when they're scared." You shrug. "The adrenaline and fear accelerates the heart which pumps fresh blood throughout the body. That's why so many vampires prefer to hunt at night. People are more afraid of the dark than they think."

Wanda chuckles, looking at you in a way that makes you forget about the boy's footsteps becoming too distant to distinguish from the other sounds of the city.

"You're kind of a vampire nerd." 

"I don't know what that word means." You give a confused laugh and Wanda moves closer.

"It means I think you're really cute." She retorts, making you gulp dryly. Her hands find your shoulders, and Wanda gets close enough for you to count her freckles. "And I'm dying to know how these little ones feel, darling. Do they hurt?”

She's too close for you to focus, but you make an effort. "Hm, just a little, when they come out. They usually only bother me when I'm really hungry."

Wanda's fists cross together behind your head, and she's definitely too close for you to think about anything other than her.

"And how hungry are you now?"

"Very, Miss Maximoff." You confess hoarsely. Wanda smiles mischievously, tilting her neck in your direction.

"Well, I think you should have a little taste."

"God, Wanda." Your eyes close on instinct, your face falling forward so that you sink into the gap in her collarbone. Wanda shudders, as affected as you are. Her hands-free themselves so that she can stroke your arm, as a reassurance that everything is all right, and also caress your hair because apparently everything so far hasn't been maddening enough for her.

Every cell of your spirit begs you to sink your fangs into the warm skin in front of you, to drink every drop until Wanda faints against you, but you fight nature itself with her help. Her soft sighs in your ear, assuring you that she trusts you.

"It'll only be a little bit, I promise." You assure her, licking the spot gently and drawing a deep sigh from the other girl. It's the sound you focus on before you take the first bite.

Wanda tenses at the slightest hint of pain, but another sensation takes over elsewhere. Her cheeks burn with the betrayal of her own body, and she finds herself unable to care about the mild pain while she's throbbing between her legs.

Her nails dig into your biceps, and she starts to squirm under you, surrendering to the sensation of your bodies so close together. You hum in satisfaction at the soothing of your hunger, and Wanda drops her hand to your waist.

"Enough, baby." She whispers the request, her nails scratching the hair on the back of your neck. "I'm starting to get dizzy."

You hold on a little tighter, and Wanda softens against your body. Her heart is pounding, and she is aware of her pathetic underwear situation. Your body heaved forward, and Wanda didn't have the strength to resist any pull. She feels her back hit the wall of the alley, and whimpers at the feel of your leg pressed between hers.

She doesn't think she has ever been so at someone's mercy as she is now. She just wants to tell you to help her relieve the pressure between her legs, but every time she tries to call you, what leaves her lips are needy moans.

And you kept feeding and the surroundings began to darken. Wanda only realized that she'd been grinding herself on your thigh all this time because her climax approached at high speed, and falling off the edge brought a momentary recovery of consciousness.

"Oh, God, detka!" She meows, spilling herself on your thigh. Her body spasms softly, and you tense up, stopping your feeding immediately. Wanda falls limp in your arms, trying to fuck herself stupidly even after the orgasm she's just achieved. Your arms are the only support keeping her upright. "Do that again."

You shake your head, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. "No, I took more than I should have." You retort softly, and Wanda has to blink a few times to realize that your appearance has returned to normal. "What a terrible idea that was, Wanda. So dangerous… I was starving."

She gives you a dreamy little smile. "How do I taste?"

"The best I've ever had." You assure her before adjusting her to hold her in your arms just in time for Wanda to lose consciousness.

She dreams of the same feeling of being carried but in a place much colder than New Orleans.

-&-

She wakes up just in time to see you putting her to bed, all the way to the borrowed room in her aunt's empty apartment.

Wanda grabs your wrist before you can pull away after putting the covers over her.

"Hey." Your voice and gaze are so sweet that she almost forgets everything that has happened so far. But Wanda actually remembers very well, and the lingering sensation of your body against hers makes her shiver. 

"Hey... sorry for blacking out on you." She murmurs, her free hand coming up to your face. You bite your lip, still hovering over her body and uncertain what you should do next. Should you pull away? Lean in and kiss Wanda like you've been dreaming of doing for weeks? She seems to be able to see all the hesitation in your eyes, and offers a reassuring smile, her hand caressing your cheek. "What's wrong?"

Wanda is definitely teasing you, but you don't mind, smiling too as you steady your hands next to her body on the mattress, face to face, the two of you waiting for the other to make a move first until the tension is almost unbearable. But you also remember what brought you there, and let out a small sigh.

"You shouldn't have baited me like that, Wanda. It's dangerous, I could have... lost control."

Her expression becomes almost mischievous, a smile threatening to break out on her lips. "I've survived much worse, darling."

You sigh in frustration. "Wanda..."

"It's the truth." She chuckles even though you move away to sit down properly. Wanda also mimics the gesture, looking for your hand on the bed so that you stop grimacing and look at her. "Hey, come on, don't be upset."

"I'm not."

"Then why the pout?" She leans in, kissing your cheek and you snort away, unable to stay angry with this adorably charming witch. "You have to trust me, sweetheart." She whispers, kissing your jaw. You sigh, squeezing her hand gently.

"I trust you with my life, Wanda." You let her know in the same tone, intertwining your fingers in her lap. Wanda smiles against your skin, chaste kisses trailing from your jaw to your collarbone. "I'm just scared... that one day, I'll lose control and hurt you. I'd never forgive myself."

She pulls away a little to look you in the eye. "I meant it what I said before." Starts the witch. "I've been through much worse. You weren't there to see... what I did to reach that little girl. You don't have to worry about hurting me, because it doesn't matter, I'll always heal." With your hesitation, she pulls further away to push the collar of her shirt aside and let you see the place where you fed on her a few minutes ago. "Look, it's gone. You have to trust me, darling. I know that the idea of anyone being stronger than an original is hard for you to accept, but believe me, I'll be fine. I'll always be fine, even if you are starving and out of your mind."

You grimace, adjusting yourself so that you can hold her by the waist and place her on your lap. "Just because you're going to heal doesn't mean I can hurt you. You deserve kindness, Wanda. I can give you my best." Your mouth meets hers, it's not a hungry kiss but it's a hot one and it takes Wanda out of her orbit. It's been a while since the last time, and well, it's never really been like this. She struggles a little to find her rhythm, for a short moment just panting against your experienced tongue, until she finally responds in an equally passionate way that makes you sigh and press your body to hers. 

Wanda likes the sound. Wanda likes you.

"Can I take off your shirt?" Your request comes between one kiss and another, she hardly answers because her mind is clouded with arousal, and if she could be honest, she would have been out of her clothes a long time ago. 

"Yes, please." She gasps back, anxious hands tracing your back. Wanda is restless under your touch, shy about your gaze once the clothes come off. But you do everything with an unbearable slowness that leaves her squeezing her thighs together in search of relief. 

She had sex before - For the first time in a war-torn adolescence, an experience that was forgettable and almost regretted. And then with a machine man who could pretend but never had the biological need to do so. 

This moment right now was like no other, being with someone who worshipped her body, who was as breathless as she was, who reacted to her touch and was practically at her mercy when she touched the right spot.

And Wanda finds that she loves it. Having you touch her and touch you back, and feeling your fangs scratch her skin every time she thrusts her hips into yours.

Pinned against the bed, naked as you are, your legs entwined together like your bodies. Sighs of pleasure mingle with the dance of your hips, and Wanda digs her nails into your back as your fangs press into her collarbone. 

You drink less than last time, but her legs still tingle. Or maybe it's the orgasm hitting her hard.

This is different from the first - the whole bed vibrates with the wave of magic that escapes the witch with her back arched. You hold Wanda, even though you're also shaking with the force of your own climax. She initiates the next kiss this time, moaning into your tongue as she spins your bodies around with ease. Your hands entwine together at the top of your head, but Wanda lets go, lowering herself and getting a confused sigh from you.

"What are you up to, little witch?"

Then it occurs to her with your expression that you are four centuries old and have spent much of this time as a prisoner and that perhaps you haven't been so confident because Wanda is your first lover.

She looks back up, sitting on your hips, breathing out of rhythm but now with a new excitement shining in her eyes.

"Babe, be honest... have you ever been with a woman before?"

Your face gains a deep color, and you turn your gaze away. Wanda falls hard, even if it doesn't occur to her yet.

She giggles softly and you're even more embarrassed, but she doesn't let you move away, her firm legs holding you in place.

"Don't make fun of me." You mutter, and Wanda snorts softly.

"Never." She assures you, even though she already has a new dozen antics memorized. Her mouth kisses your jaw and goes down like her body. The color in your cheeks is for another reason soon. "I love being your first. I want to make you feel good."

You hesitate to hold her when she's stimulating you, worried about losing control of your own strength. The sheets are destroyed when Wanda flicks her tongue over your breasts, smiling with delight at the sight of you squirming.

She goes lower and you gasp for air. "What... are you doing?" You ask mortified. It's not the 1700s anymore, you have to remember. Female pleasure is, well, taken into account. Wanda bites the inside of your thighs, watching the muscles twitch for a moment.

"You'll love it, I promise." It's the only thing she says before diving in, her hot mouth pulling all the air from your lungs. It's the most wonderful thing you've ever felt. Wanda's tongue works on your most intimate part, teasing your entrance before she starts to eat you out hungrily. You grip the headboard, your eyes closed tightly. Wanda holds your legs open, and the knot in your stomach starts to become impossible to contain. 

The witch seems to like it too. She moans for your taste on her tongue, and the new vibration pushes you over the edge. Wanda holds your spasming body without difficulty, you think she uses magic for that. And still calming down, it takes you a whole moment to stop seeing stars.

Wanda licks up every drop of your pleasure, moaning softly before meeting your gaze again. You can't hold it, and end up covering your reddened face with your arm while ignoring the smug giggle of the witch who begins to climb your body again.

"Don't be shy... you look so pretty when you moan my name." She praises you provocatively, and you can't help but smile, feeling completely relaxed. Wanda waits for you to look at her again, her arms resting on your shoulder so that she can look at you closely. "Hi."

Your hand finds her cheek. " Hi, yourself." She leans into your touch, her smile filling your chest with warm happiness. Wanda sighs.

"Can we stay like this? Just for a moment." She asks quietly, and something in her gaze tells her that the question isn't just for today. Wanda wants to know if you can be with her.

You would. Forever if she wished. "Of course, little witch. For as long as you want."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #kinktober 2023 #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots

[revasserium]

Zoro and the hunter's heart (as, you know, he's a former pirate hunter... nudge nudge)

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

a hunter's heart

opla!zoro; 6,553 words; fairytale retelling!au, fem!reader, no "y/n", hunter!zoro, fluff and angst (only a bit), hurt/comfort (kinda), mentions of witches and magic and curses

summary: there are some stories that the world can't stop telling

a/n: i should know better by now than to think an opla zoro fic could be anything but too involved... ╮(￣▽￣"")╭ tagging @dira333 bc its ur request and @bby-deerling bc u were kind enough to ask <3

It is a sordid tale, to hear the villager’s old witch tell it — one near and dear as the rise of the sun in the east, the set of the moon in the west, old as time itself. Because you see, there are some stories so ancient and so integral to the world that it bears, nay demands, retelling, reliving. Stories so stanch and certain that they wear groves into the truth of the world by the tracks they trail, over and over and over again. Stories that the world can never stop telling, no matter how hard it might want to or try.

This is one such tale.

“Take her into the forest — and bring me back her heart,” commanded the Queen.

The hunter had knelt before his queen and bowed his head, his swords heavy at his side. Inside his chest, his own heart was thundering, thundering. A storm brewing within the depths of his soul. But he’d schooled his expression straight and taken his orders.

You were nothing more than a kitchen maid, but you had the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. All morning, he could hear it echoing through the cool stone halls as you went about your baking of the day’s fresh bread, your churning of the week’s soft butter. He’d lean against the wall just outside the kitchens to listen, to let the music of your voice wash over the ragged edges of his soul, to soothe his frayed ends, to mend what parts might have been broken.

Sometimes, he’d find himself wandering toward the gardens in the back of the castle grounds just to catch an echo of your voice near the wells, where he knows you’ll be in the early afternoons, collecting water for the day’s dinner service. Sometimes, he thinks he can hear it over the clink and clash of swords as he spars with his fellow knights and hunters, and he’d catch himself slowing, almost stilling, and those are the only times anyone’s ever managed to get the upper hand on him.

“C’mon doll, give us another tune.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, sing us a sea shanty! Or another one of your show tunes!”

Zoro frowns as he rounds the corner one day to find a few young knights leaning against the castle wall, towering over where you’re standing, a half-filled bucket of water clutched in your hands. He’s about to intervene when he hears the sound of splashing water, and a second later, the young knights are stumbling back, squawking with indignation as you huff, wiping your hands daintily on your apron.

“So sorry, seems like my hand’s slipped —” you drop into a rather sardonic curtsy before marching passed the stunned young men, leaving them blinking and drenched in your wake. Zoro chuckles, the sound making both of them whirl around, color rising ruddy into their cheeks. They sober immediately as they meet Zoro’s eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow, looking them over.

“S-sorry sir… we just — we were uh —”

“Just leaving,” the second knight supplies as he grabs the first by the arm and tugs him back out into the courtyard.

Zoro watches them go with a muted amusement twisting his lips before turning back to find you peering up at him with a bright, steely light in your eyes. Your shoulder is pressed to the edge of the wall, your body half-hidden behind it as if you’re uncertain of what he might do. As if you’re uncertain of him.

“Sorry about them…” Zoro dips his head, suddenly very aware of how he must seem to you — just another one of the Queen’s toy soldiers, gilded in gold, touched by the sly silver of her cool, slithering magic. Would you think he’d be like them — like those bumbling idiots who couldn’t tell a board sword from a longsword? Who thought braveness and bravado one and the same? And suddenly, the thought that you might sickens him, and he swallows hard, hurrying to explain.

“Not all of us are…” Zoro’s voice trails off as he casts about for the right word — idiots? “Like them”? Neither seems to do it all justice.

He watches as you take half a step out from behind the stone wall’s cover and drop into a slight curtsey.

“I know.” And there’s a bright sheen to the soft whisper of your voice, a certainty that Zoro can’t quite place. And he knew then as he knows now that you — you are just a bit different. Just a bit more than he’d ever given you thought or credit for. Perhaps that was his mistake — he makes a mental note not to make it again.

“I know you’re not…” you wave a light hand towards where the other two knights had stumbled away, and the pinkness in your cheeks makes Zoro’s stomach do a few choice flips he’d never remembered his own stomach capable of till now.

There’s a moment’s pause, and then — you both break into laughter at the same time — him, a tad self-conscious, you, unbidden and bright as birdsong.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Your sparring form is really nice.”

You both speak at the same time, and in the startled quiet that stretches right after, Zoro finds himself held still by the weight of your eyes, the heaviness of your gaze as it rests on him, wide and startled and… almost pleased. He clears his throat and tries again —

“I hear you all the time —”

“I see you sometimes —”

It happens again, and when you both pause this time, he can see the burgeoning smile threatening to spill over your petal-pink lips; he can feel his own smile breaking like ice in spring’s first thaw.

“I don’t know much about music but —”

“It looks like you’re dancing —”

By the third time, Zoro’s starting to wonder if you’re doing this on purpose, or perhaps he is — because what wouldn’t he do to keep on basking in the sunshine of your laughter, to soak in the brilliance of your smile? What stars and moons and planets wouldn’t conspire to align just for another chance to glance into the midnight dark of your eyes, as depthless as any sea, as wide as any self-respecting night?

“Well —” Zoro clears his throat; you purse your lips and wait for him to finish, “I’ve never danced…”

Mischief hinges on the edge of your smile as you peer up at him through your lashes, “You should try it sometime. I hear it’s quite the workout.”

And there’s something singing beneath the sweetness of your voice that hints at a darker, more intimate meaning to the word dance, but Zoro stops himself before his mind can unspool entirely. He sucks in a breath and chews over the words now sitting solid and unwieldy on his tongue —

“I’ve always thought dancing… required music and —” he swallows and forces his sentence onward like shepherding a stubborn and reluctant bull, “a partner.”

You let your held lilt sideways, watching him like a bird on a branch might consider a squirrel on the ground.

“It’s just… I’ve never quite had either before,” he hurries to explain, feeling heat creeping into his cheeks and finally, he forces his eyes away from you, glancing up towards the piercingly blue sky, completely devoid of clouds. He curses inwardly, his eyes wandering for something — anything — to latch onto that’s not you and your mesmerizing eyes, with the universe caught behind them, or your lips, shaped so much like the answer to a question he hadn’t realized he’d been asking for his whole, entire life.

He watches as you square your shoulders and take a half-step into his personal space, just the tips of your toes grazing into the proximity of too close and at the same time not nearly close enough — then, you dip into a curtsey, lowering your eyes so he has nothing to ground himself on except for the brief breath of your skin, the waft of your hair sweeping down over your shoulders, smelling so much like cotton and milk, salt and honey.

“But now, from where I’m standing…” you look up, and your smile is so much poisoned apples and cyanide, “you’ve got both, don’t you?”

Zoro sucks in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his head spinning for a second too long and he almost stumbles. Almost. But he catches himself, and when he does, his body moves as a marionette on a string — as if his arms and legs already knew what his mind had for so long kept from him —

He dips into a bow, sweeping one arm over his stomach, the other out to the side. And there’s no dull, discordant clank of armor because hunters and soldiers are made different. Fighters, both, but hunters require a different kind of bloodlust, are a different strain of heartless.

You let out a soft laugh and Zoro wonders if there’s any better music in the world as he offers you his hand. You take it, and he draws your body near with reverent palms, exhaltant fingers — he can almost feel the wild birdwing beat of your heart fluttering in your chest, supplemented by the thundering of his own much more well-trained heartbeat, but even so, the dull pulse of it makes him feel heady with excitement — thump, thump, thump.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the pair of you begin to dance. At first, just to the soft inhale and exhale of your breaths and his. And then, you smile up at him, a startling, chest-piercing, swan-song thing — as you begin to sing.

His first step is hesitant, and the second less so. By the third, Zoro feels his shoulders flattening out and his chest rising as he clasps your palms against his and takes the lead. You let him, with a tinkling laugh, your smile light and bright as daybreak. Your feet skip like pebbles across a mirror lake, and by the time he lets you go, the midday sun is beating down over the castle grounds and the lunch bell is ringing off in the distance. You skip out of his reach and drop into another curtsey —

“Seems like it’s past time for me to go.”

“But —” Zoro bites back the urge to chase after you, his body surging forward to try and stay within the warmth of your orbit.

“Tomorrow,” you breathe, your cheeks a bit too pink, grinning up at him with mischief in your eyes, “after the morning meal… I think I might have some more water to collect.”

You shoot him a meaningful wink as you sweep by him, humming beneath your breath as you go. You brush by him with a sweep of skirt-tails, and it’s a full minute before Zoro can form a coherent thought, whipping around to see the shadow of you disappearing around the corner of the long corridor that leads down to the kitchens.

Up above, neither of you sees the Queen with her blood-red nails clicking against the wide windowsill, her eyes trailing the shape of Zoro as he sucks in a long breath, and shakes himself, before heading back to the training grounds, his earrings catching the afternoon light in a series of gold-gilded sparks.

The next day, Zoro finds you dancing to a two-step by yourself, a bucket of water propped on your hip, the late morning sun caressing your skin like a lover’s fingers. And he finds himself held still by the sight of you, your eyes closed, your body swaying to the rhythm and breath of the earth, the sound of your voice filling the air as water might an already-full glass — spilling over and over till it soaks the earth between you both.

He clears his throat, and you open your eyes. You smile.

Almost sheepishly, he offers you a hand. You take it, and the half-filled bucket is left to teeter precariously on the well’s stone-worn edge as you laugh, letting Zoro pull you in, his palm pressing to the bend of your waist, fingers skimming the small of your back.

Three days, you dance. Three days of blissful mornings and sun-soaked afternoons. Three nights of moonlit walks and roses dipped in starlight.

Because the best things in the world always come in threes — but it just so happens that so do the worst.

Zoro feels his skin crawling when he receives the summons from the Queen. There is only one reason the Queen would summon a hunter like him — she’s found something (or someone) worthy of being hunted. He prays it will not take him away for long.

“Zoro…” the Queen purrs, barely turning to look at him as he bows his head, holding the pose for three beats before straightening. She reaches up to grace her fingers over the edges of an ornate mirror hanging on her wall — a mirror she covets. Zoro has seen its magic, the dull, rough-edged ache thrumming through the earth and the air like poison. He schools his expression into one of flat disinterest as he squares his shoulders.

“Your Highness.”

“I trust you’re familiar with my mirror?”

Zoro makes a soft noise of consent, cold slipping down his spine like cool fingers.

“Then… I trust you know what it does?” the Queen asks, peering at him through it’s dark, onyx reflection.

Zoro glances down, “I can’t say I do, Your Highness.”

“Well then, I’d say you’re in for a treat today —” she chuckles, the sound soft and slithering, her painted lips twisting up in a cruel smirk, “this is a magic mirror, you see… and it’s magic… tells the truth —”

Zoro remains quiet, waiting, waiting.

“Mirror, mirror…”

Zoro feels the air around him condensing, the temperature dropping as the heat siphons from the room into the mirror. The darkened surface swirls with a sickly, purple light before a pallid face appears, empty eye sockets and a hollow mouth. The skeletal reflection peers imperiously back up at the image of the Queen standing before it.

“… tell me, who is the fairest in all the land?”

The Queen preens in front of the mirror, and Zoro feels his stomach filling with lead weight at her question.

Once upon a time, he’d met a kindly old witch in the woods. Her hut had been made of something that looked curiously like gingerbread, and the flowers that decorated her windowsill had glimmered with the shine of tempered sugar. He had offered to help her carry a basket of waxy red apples from the market to her hut and in return, she’d offered him the answer to one question.

“What… exactly is magic?” he’d asked, young and uncertain.

She’d laughed a laugh that might’ve once been high and imperious but then had only sounded like an amused old woman faced with a question she hadn’t quite expected.

“Magic… well — I’ll tell you this — magic is always more than meets the eye, and never what it promises.”

Zoro had blinked, frowning as she’d peered up at him with a pair of mismatched eyes — one milky and filmed over, the other dark as crow’s feathers.

“What does… that mean?”

“It means… that sometimes, magic lies. Sometimes… magic only tells you what you want to hear. Sometimes, magic is more about what you think is true because in the end… that’s the only truth that matters.”

The magic mirror contemplates the Queen’s question as Zoro stands behind her, holding his breath.

“There is but one fairer than Your Highness —”

Zoro’s vision tunnels, the voice of the mirror thickening around him as if his head were suddenly submerged in water. Heat creeps up the back of his neck like spider’s legs, quick and skittering, and he knows the answer before the mirror says your name.

“I see…” the Queen muses, though Zoro can hear the hard edge in her voice, the light catching on it like a twisting blade as she turns back around to face him. And she is beautiful, there’s no denying — the Queen’s face was, up until very recently, what Zoro had thought true beauty must be like.

He’d understood it only in the most abstract, academic sense — beauty — had only ever nodded when the other knights and hunters had wolf-whistled at the rosy-cheeked maids that dotted the castle, scattered along the halls like handfuls of sugar.

The first time he saw the Queen, he’d wondered at the perfect proportions of her eyes and nose, the dark, certain arch of her brows, the cruel tug at the ends of her painted lips and he’d thought — ah, is this what all the fuss is about?

But then he’d seen you, hadn’t he? And your face — he knows it is not perfect, he’s leaned in close enough to see the texture that mars your cheeks, the way one side of your mouth always lilts up first in a smile, the flecks that adorn your eyes like lost shards of sunlight caught beneath your lashes —

Beautiful, he’d thought.

Later, he wonders if that moment might’ve been your doom.

“Take her into the forest,” the Queen says, smiling her cruel, cruel smile as she watches Zoro lower his head, “and bring me back her heart.”

Zoro swallows hard as he bows.

You are waiting for him the next morning, just after breakfast, your hands laced behind your back, an empty bucket resting precariously along the edge of the well.

“No dancing today,” Zoro says, his voice clipped and low, his gaze darting away toward the darkness of the forest behind you. You blink up at him before following his gaze.

“Then… will you accompany me on a walk?”

Zoro frowns, nearly wincing away from you as you lean in, grinning your sly fox’s grin.

“But…”

“Oh, don’t tell me a hunter like you’s scared of the forest.” You dance away from him before he can protest, reaching for the bucket and propping it on your right hip, “C’mon, I promised the head cook I’d pick some berries for the feast tonight. Didn’t you hear? The Queen’s finally found a spell for eternal youth and beauty.”

Zoro stares after you as you pick your way across the garden, making for the wrought-iron gates that separate the castle grounds from the wilderness beyond.

“A spell for…” Zoro’s frown deepens as you glance at him over your shoulder with a sad little smile.

“They say the Queen was cursed by a powerful witch to always search for that which she can never have.”

Zoro keeps behind you as you meander into the shadow of the trees, seemingly following a trail only you can see, occasionally stopping to bend over a burst of bright red berries, picking a few and tossing them into your bucket before pressing one to your lips. He watches as berry juice dark as blood tints your lips and trickles down the edge of your mouth.

“Did you know… that there are only three ways to break a witch’s curse? One is for the witch herself to lift the curse.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, your eyes shine like twin stars.

“Another is to kill the witch and all those who cared for her.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, the lopsided lilt of your smile flashes white, and sharp, dripping dark red —

Zoro’s sword is in his hand before he realizes, and suddenly, every twig-snap and leaf-rustle sets his bones on edge. The wind tastes sweet on his tongue, swirls thick with magic as he whirls around, searching for the silhouette of you and finding nothing but endless, pressing dark.

“Zoro?” your voice nearly makes him stumble as he twists around, eyes wide, chest heaving, only to find the tip of his sword resting against the delicate hyphen of your clavicle. Your breath hitches, soft as he’d always remembered it, but you don’t pull away; you don’t even flinch as you stare up at him, as if waiting for him to do something.

“Are you going to kill me?” your voice is low and smooth, without a single flicker of fear.

Zoro’s grip loosens as he forces himself to pull back. He hisses out a breath and shakes loose his shoulders.

“No,” he says, his own voice coarse, clipped, “I’m not. But —”

“Oh good — that would’ve made things rather awkward for our date.”

Zoro gapes as you laugh, twirling around to continue on your way through the forest. He hastens after you a few seconds later, brushing aside low-hanging branches and shouldering passed thicker bits of underbrush.

“D-date?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sounding very pleased as you lead him on, and on, and on, “you wouldn’t want to miss it — grandma’s baking pie.”

“What… ” but his words trail off once more as you turn and make towards a clearing that he’s certain wasn’t there a moment ago — a clearing with a tiny hut that looks as if it’s made of gingerbread. The flowers on the windowsill glitter jewel-bright and candy-hard.

“My grandma’s house,” you say, smiling as you push through the door with your bucket of blood-red berries still perched on your hip.

Zoro’s frown carves ever harder into his brows as he follows after you on hesitant feet, though he can’t help the way his muscles loosen the second he steps over the small hut’s threshold and catches a whiff of something wonderful in the air — cinnamon and sugar and apples.

“Ah, you’ve made it just in time!” the old witch looks up from where she’s tending a vast fire that casts the entire hut in a warm, ethereal glow. Zoro glances back at the open patch of cloudless blue sky somehow visible in a small gap between the trees before stepping in.

“Apple pie again, grandma?”

“Your favorite,” the old witch replies with a grin as you set the bucket on the small wooden table, “And I see you’ve brought a guest, though…” the old witch’s single black eye catches the firelight as she peers are Zoro, still standing just inside the doorway.

“It’s nice to see you again, young man.”

Zoro bows, rather awkwardly, and though it’s been many years since he’d helped the old woman with her apples, she looks exactly the same. He can’t say quite the same for himself.

“Come, sit! Have some berry wine,” you say, ushering Zoro towards the table, where you’ve somehow replaced the bucket with two jars of red liquid that glimmers like garnets in the flickering firelight. You pour a glass and nudge it towards Zoro, who simply stares, trying very hard to wrap his head around what must be happening.

A dull, thrumming ache is gathering at the base of his skull, but the pie smells so sweet and the wine looks ever so tantalizing.

He reaches out and takes a sip, letting the cool liquid slip down his throat. He feels it slither through him, sending tiny pin-pricks of heat trailing along his limbs as he swallows.

“Ah… so he’s not like the rest of them.”

He blinks down at the wine in his cup for a second more before you reach out and tug it from his hand. A soft palm cups his cheek and forces his face up. He meets your eyes and finds them searching.

“You weren’t lying… you really hadn’t planned on killing me.”

You sound almost surprised as your grandma chuckles behind you, the noise like the clack of old stones against one another.

“I told you he was different,” the old witch says, slowly slicing a bit of pie and putting it on a plate.

“All men think they’re different,” you say, your voice resigned as you take the slice of pie and set it in front of Zoro, “Right, now eat — it’ll make you feel better. I’m sorry about that… just… you can never be sure.”

The old witch tuts, shaking her head, “A broken heart is it’s own kind of curse, you know.”

Zoro blearily takes a bite of cake and feels his senses returning to him one by one; he takes stock of them as if he’d forgotten entirely that he’d lost them in the first place. As he chews and swallows once, twice — by the third time he can feel the tightness in his muscles returning as panic and confusion flood his system.

He jerks up from the table and reaches for his sword.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” you say, though you sound hesitant as you hold up a hand, your expression earnest as you take half a step back.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he seethes, looking between you and the old witch, uncertain of who to aim his anger at.

“I had to be sure,” you say again, your voice imploring as you inch forward, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah well —” Zoro gulps past the dryness in his mouth as he narrows his eyes, “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

You wince ever so slightly, looking away, “No, you’re right but… please,” you say again, and the word works like magic as it settles over Zoro’s shoulders. He wonders if it’s actual magic, but no �� there’s no strange sweetness in the air, no thick fog threatening to cloud over his judgment.

“It might be quicker to show him,” the old witch suggests, still watching the pair of you with her one oil-black eye, sounding pleasant and entirely unfazed.

“Right… yes —” you sigh, motioning for the door, “The sty is just out behind the hut — you can go out first if you’d like,” you offer.

Zoro looks between you and the door before inching back and edging open the door with his foot, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you follow him with light, muted movements.

The air outside is crisp and cool and Zoro can’t help sucking in a breath as he steps out from the halo of the firelit hut. Grass crunches beneath his feet, birds sing overhead. There’s the lingering heat of magic still crackling in the air, but when his gaze falls back onto you, he finds you no less lovely than he’d done the first time.

“This way,” you say, rounding the edge of the hut and leading him towards a sizeable pigsty that he’d completely failed to notice the first time he’d been here as a young boy.

A looming sense of dread calcifies in the base of his stomach as he approaches the pigsty on heavy feet. The pigs all jostle against one another, snorting and snuffling with their noses pressed into the long feeding pen. From the pockets of your skirt, you produce a handful of bright red berries and toss it into the pen. Zoro watches with mixed fascination and mounting horror as the pigs tumble over each other to forage for the fruit in the dried hay and mud.

“Have you ever heard the saying that… there are some stories the world never stops telling?” your voice is quiet and sad as you reach over to skim your knuckles along the pale pink snout of a snorting pig.

And suddenly, Zoro understands — he doesn’t know if it was a trick of the light or perhaps the magic still working its way through his system but the understanding comes like a rainstorm, a few tiny droplets before the downpour. And were he a weaker man, he might’ve back and tried to make a run for it. But instead, he stands and stares with a strange pity welling up inside him at the lolling tongues and flopping ears.

“These were all men — hunters,” he says, his words slow at first, but picking up speed as he continues to speak, “Who tried to lure you into the wood to —”

“To kill me, yes, so that they could give the Queen my heart. Because you see, the heart of a witch would give her what she so desperately desires —”

“Eternal youth,” Zoro breathes.

“And the first time, I was heartbroken,” you turn away from him, pressing a hand to your heart, “But I managed to get away. And instead of going back empty-handed to face the Queen’s wrath, the hunter caught a wild boar in the forest and cut out its heart instead. Only — an old she-wolf had been hunting the boar for days, and was robbed of a meal. She and I… we came across each other and I was so — so hurt that I offered her my heart in return for putting me out of my misery.”

Zoro presses his lips as your words rush from you in a great wave, pieces of truths crystalizing before him even as they continue to shatter the world he thought he’d known.

“She told me then that… no man is worth dying for, especially not one who would lie to you just to steal your heart. And she offered to teach me —” you wave a hand at the pigsty, “And the rest…”

The soft silence that stretches between you is thin and pained. You cradle your hands to your chest as if trying to stem the hurt of some unspeakable heartbreak.

“And… the wine?” he asks.

Your face lifts and a strike of that familiar, mischievous light returns to your eyes as you grin.

“That was something I brewed up on my own — if the drinker bears me any ill intentions, then it’ll turn them into something a bit more… fitting of their true hearts. But if not then…” you grace him with a soft smile, “Then it’ll only ever just be wine, though a bit on the stronger side.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

A brief silence falls between the pair of you as the sky above begins to shift from blue to a soft lavender.

“You said… the first time,” Zoro says, curiosity now burgeoning from beneath the receding shock of the day, “Do you make a habit of luring men into the woods, then?”

You scoff, “Luring? Hardly. Magic can only do so much, and though the odd enchanted trinket will sell well at the monthly market, people still tend to be wary around witches.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Zoro says dryly, his eyes flickering toward the sty where the pigs, finally satisfied that there are no more berries to be found, have settled into the thick stacks of hay, grumbling and snorting.

You allow him a derisive smile, “Yes well — a girl and her grandmother still have to eat and bathe, and you can only stand so much apple pie before it starts to get a little old. So… I keep a job at the castle. Believe it or not, serving a self-obsessed Queen pays well. And all those… men —” you force out the word like spitting out poison, “Had seemed… good. At least at first.”

Zoro remains quiet as you pause, looking down at your own hands. It’s the first time he notices the light calluses that mar your palms, not so different from his own. He wonders at the smoothness of the handles on the wooden bucket you’d carried so easily through the woods, at how long it must’ve taken for a pair of hands like yours to wear them down so. The old witch’s words echo in his mind — a broken heart is it’s own kind of curse.

“Is that how you got so good at dancing?” he asks.

You grin, giving him a sidelong glance, “Perhaps.”

Zoro sighs, tilting his head back to look at the small patch of visible sky, now a deep, bruising purple.

“So. Now what?”

You echo his sigh, looking up as well, “You can go back, if you’d like.”

“And what? Tell the Queen that you got away?”

Your smile hardens ever so slightly, “Or, you could kill something else in the forest and offer her it’s heart instead.”

“But wouldn’t she know? After she ate it and doesn’t gain eternal youth?”

You shrug, looking away, “You’d be surprised what a person can trick themselves into believing, if they just try hard enough.”

Zoro nods, letting his eyes fall back down to his hand, resting idle against the hilt of his sword.

“Or, I could stay.”

He doesn’t know what makes him say it — and perhaps it was the darkness of the forest, the close, flustered whisper of the leaves, or perhaps it was the lingering sweetness of your home-brewed wine and the tantalizing smell of magic and cinnamon still in the air. But he says it, and he finds that even the strange, still shocked moment after, he doesn’t regret it.

“You… you want to stay?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so uncertain before.

“Why not? I can’t go back and…” he motions at the hut and the soft ring of warm firelight seeping out from the tiny windows, “The wine’s not bad.”

And perhaps for the first time, Zoro thinks, he sees you smile — a smile that isn’t sharp and full of hidden teeth. A smile that’s helpless and hopeful and just a little bit pained. He smiles back and hopes —

“C’mon then… you can help with the fire. And carry the water.”

“Hn. But you seemed so good at it.”

You shoot him a slight pout as the pair of you duck back into the hut to the smell of roasting vegetables.

There are some stories the world can never stop telling, stories so old that the sing harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

Once upon a time, there was a wolf, a grandmother, and a girl in the woods. Once upon a time, an old witch built a house of gingerbread to lure in the lives of unheedful children. Once upon a time, there was a Queen with a magic mirror. Once upon a time, a witch lived alone in a secluded hut and lured men to her table only to turn them into the pigs they’d always been inside.

Once upon a time, a boy asked a girl to dance.

Once, a boy told the truth and the girl didn’t believe him, because all the boys who’d broken her heart before had given her no reason not to. And a heart can only be broken so many times before it, too, gets tired.

Once, she thought that broken hearts could never be mended.

But she should’ve known that stories, like the magic they hold, very rarely tell the truth. Or perhaps, they too only tell the truths that the listener wants to hear, or is ready to hear. Never more, never less.

So, here is another story — one that’s not so frequently told, but is just as true as the others —

Once, there was a boy who was born with a sword in his hand, who had never know that his body could hold so much music or laughter. Then, he met a girl with the most beautiful voice in all the land, and he, like so many before him, fell in love. Only, the girl had been hurt by all those before him, and no longer trusted the words of boys with sword-hilt smiles and rough, callused fingers. But when he asked her to dance, she agreed anyway, and when she introduced him to her grandmother and offered him wine, he did not hesitate. Instead, he asked if he could stay the night.

That was a long, long time ago.

There will always be another girl with a pretty voice and a viper’s smile at the castle beyond the woods, and always another young knight too eager to please his Queen. There will always be apples at the morning market and magic in the air. But perhaps the pieces don’t fall right where they ought to; perhaps they never did. Perhaps the stories we tell are only ever stories.

“You told me once that there were three ways to lift a curse,” Zoro asks one day, a wooden bucket in one hand, three swords strapped to his opposite hip.

“Mhm,” you hum, not looking up from the large pot of soup bubbling over the fire, a song threading beneath your breath as you sway back and forth.

Zoro grunts as he puts the bucket on the worn wooden table, walking over to slip an around your middle and hook his chin over your shoulder. You laugh as you let yourself be pulled back into his embrace.

“You only ever told me two.”

“Ah… right —” you smile, a smile that is no longer jagged but worn soft around the edges, as if all the sharpness has been smoothed over by years and years of tenderness, years and years of trust, of love.

“So?”

“So…” you place down the wooden spoon and turn to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders as his large, callused palms settle around your waist. The pair of you sway to a song that only the two of you can hear, a song that sings harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

“The third way to break a curse is the easiest… but also the hardest way, depending on who you are,” you say, smiling and swaying in Zoro’s arms. Like this, you can see the late afternoon light as it pours through the small window and catches on the dull gold of his triplet earrings.

“It’s a simple thing, really,” you say, as Zoro leans down to press his forehead to yours, your breaths dancing in the negative space between your bodies. Outside, an old witch sits on a rocking chair and admires the sunset. Occasionally, she reaches into her skirt pockets for a handful of berries to toss into the pigsty to her right.

“Oh yeah? How simple?” Zoro asks.

“Why…” you lean up on your tiptoes, your nose brushing his, your lips mere inches apart. Behind you, bottles and bottles of home-brewed wine sit along the mantle of the great stone fireplace, the color bright and true and freshly spilled blood.

“It’s as simple as a kiss from your one true love, of course.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action #one piece scenarios #opla zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #x reader #opla #one piece netflix #opla zoro x reader #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #roronoa zoro fluff #one piece fluff #roronoa zoro imagines #roronoa zoro scenarios #floofy floof floof #angst mcgee #this took a long time to write and it totally took on a life of its own as i was writing it but i actually really like it #i felt like i was writing a fable or something lmao

[darkbluekies]

Hey if you don't mind me asking, what are you working on rn?

Why don't i show a few of them? :)

Autocorrect will stand for the weird things I will hopefully take care of when editing

dbs SS Normandie (project name) — all 5, male detective reader [releases 11th may]

“What are you going to do now?” you spit, cocking your head to the side. “Throw me overboard?”

“Not exactly”, Silas says, smiling menacingly.

“Not yet, at least”, Jerry says, grinning.

“If I don't meet my contact in New York, people will know that something has happened to me”, you say coldly. “They'll hunt you down.”

“Oh, will they now? I didn't realize that we had stolen their golden boy.” Silas's cruel smile widens. “Well, Golden Boy, plans seem to have changed.”

You glare at him in confusion. Silas pets your head twice and you hiss at the painful touch. Whatever they hit you with, it must have caused a gigantic bruise.

“Seems like we have to keep you for a while”, he says.

You glare at him.

“Do you really think ropes will stop me?” you ask. “I'll be out of here in no time.”

“I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free.”

(Have two smaller parts because the other teasers became longer)

Before pulling you up on your feet, she unties them. You stumble, almost falling on Jerry.

“Watch it, big boy”, she warns you. “If you knock me down I’m kicking you between your legs.”

“If you hadn’t tied my feet, I would actually have blood in them. I can’t feel them.”

She unties your hands. You make your way into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Hedwig had wiped away some of the blood, but there were still traces of it in your scalp. You sigh heavily. What should you do? Finally, your hands and feet are free, but you aren’t yet. And — after a quick look around — there’s no way out. The only way out is through the door which Jerry is guarding.

You could perhaps get out by defeating Jerry, but you have something against fighting women. But, then again, she had knocked you with — what you guess was — a glass bottle. You look around for something that can help you and lay your eyes on a metal bar over the bathtub, used to pull one up. Without a second thought and will all your might, you rip it off. You give it a few squeezes, feeling if it could be strong enough to be used as a weapon and trying to find a comfortable, yet strong, grip.

You open the door quickly and swing the metal bar towards Jerry. She tries to grab it out of your hands but you push her off and knock her to the ground with the bar. You're not sure how hard you are hitting her, but it's enough force to keep her down. Quickly, you make your way past her and storm out of the cabin, almost crashing into the opposite wall in the corridor. You look around quickly, trying to think of where to go. After what Silas said, that he has more men than just his second in command lurking around, you're not sure who you can be seen by.

Foreign queen (project name) — Edmund, female reader

You sit down on the bed with your head in your lap, waiting for something to happen. The castle makes sounds, as if it is trying to communicate … and for the moment it is the closest thing to comprehensible you can hear. 

The door unlock again and you look up from your hands, only to be met by the king. He closes the door behind him. You freeze. He lets his eyes wander over you with a small smile. 

“Beautiful”, he says. 

“What do you want?” you whisper. 

“You have a beautiful voice when you don’t yell or cry. Shame I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He moves over to the bed, standing in front of you. You look up at him. He moves his hand slowly towards your face to move a piece of your hair out of your eyes. You sit frozen under his touch, too scared to move. The man points to himself. 

“Edmund”, he says. 

You recognise a name when you hear it. 

“Edmund?” you whisper hesitantly. 

He smiles and nods. Your accent makes his name feel new, personalized. It’s your name for him.

“Yes, Edmund, that’s right”, he says and points at you. “You?”

“Y/N …”, you whisper. 

Edmund stands still for a moment before his smile widens. Hearing your name makes him feel euphoric. 

“Y/N”, he says, tasting your name on his tongue. “Y/N.”

Edmund smiles.

Sick (project name) — hedwig, gender neutral reader

The chauffeur helps you up the stairs as you enter the georgian mansion. Your legs give up halfway and you almost crash into the stairs. The chauffeur grabs you quickly.

“Sorry”, you whisper.

“Don’t be”, he says.

He leaves you on Hedwig’s bed and asks if there is something he can get you. You shake your head. Even if you did need something, you still feel weird asking random people to get it for you. the few times you’ve done that, you’ve offered to pay but they’ve always turned it down. You’re not Hedwig, you aren’t used to having a dozen people do things for you. You have your own two hands and legs and are fully capable of doing things yourself.

“Should I get you some medicine?” the chauffeur asks. “I’m sure miss Hedwig would like it if I do.”

You give up, your head aching too much to discuss what you do or don’t need. You agree to him buying the medicine. As soon as he leaves, you change into your pajamas and tuck yourself in, hugging Hedwig’s teddy bear. Just as you’re about to fall asleep, there's a faint knock on the door. You pry your eyes open slightly to see the chef sneak in.

“What should I do for you?” he asks.

“Hedwig recommended soup”, you mumble.

“In that case I will make soup.”

He disappears again. You fall asleep within minutes and doesn’t notice when the chef comes in with steaming carrot soup, or when the chauffeur comes with the medicine. You first wake up when Hedwig leaves kisses over your face.

“I’m sorry for waking you, sweetheart”, she whispers apologetically, caressing your face. “But I got worried. You haven’t touched the soup or the medicine at all.” She feels your forehead softly. “Have you taken your temperature yet?”

“I have been sleeping”, you explain and cough loudly.

Hedwig furrows her brows worriedly and helps you sit up. She smiles as she sees you hugging her teddy. You cough again and she caresses your hair, looking as worried as if you'd have cut your arm off.

Like father, like son — Edmund + his son Ludwig, female reader

Edmund returns a few days later when everyone is asleep. Ludwig meets him in the hall and fixes his hair quickly.

“Welcome back, father”, he says.

“Has everything gone smoothly?” Edmund asks nonchalantly. “Has my wife done anything she shouldn’t?”

“She hasn’t!”

Edmund smiles. “That’s my girl. Well, where is she? Is she sleeping?”

“I believe so, father. She has been feeling a little … down … so …”

Edmund twirls around and gives him a stern gaze.

“What?” he asks coldly.

“I haven’t let her out of her room since the day you left. She has been forced to rest.”

Edmund practically runs to your shared chamber, wanting to get to you as quick as possible. He opens the door to find you sleeping in the bed. He sinks down on his knees in front of you and brushes the hair out of your face. You open your eyes slowly and he smiles.

“Hi, my jewel”, he whispers lovingly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Edmund”, you gasp, somehow happy that he’s back, that you don’t have to deal with Ludwig anymore.

He hugs you and brings your face into his neck. His arms sneak around your waist.

“Ludwig has been telling me that you’ve been feeling a little down”, he whispered into your hair. “What happened, my dear?”

“Nothing”, you replied. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me. Tell me.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere king #yandere doctor #yandere female #yandere rich girl #male reader #female reader #yandere teaser

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Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger FLT | Pamphlet ft. Main Cast Messages & Takano Minato Interview (pages and translations below, LONG POST)

Publication: mid March 2024

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger FLT (act.1)

The story of the Royal Sentai ended with the defeat of the Uchu King Dagded Dujardin. That's how it was supposed to go, but…

Soon after, there was alittle incident. Make no mistake, Chikyu is also at risk. But, it's hopelessly stupid and ridiculous, and will definitely cause a big commotion. An inconceivable comedy. We'd be happy if it makes you laugh.

-Synopsis-

The kings have gathered for the "Six Kingdom Summit" to decide who's most suitable for the "face" of the new banknotes, but for some reason, the "story" takes an unexpected turn…..

Hehehehe.

Sakai Taisei (Gira Husty/KuwagataOhger) "I'm going to rule the world!"

The king of Shugoddam, the largest country in Chikyu, and the one where the guardian god resides. He transforms into KuwagataOhger. He grew up in an orphanage in Shugoddam's castle town, but it later turned out that he was the younger brother of the (then) king, Racules. However, his true identity is a life form created by the Uchu King Dagded. His ability to communicate with the Shugods and his immortal body were inherited from Dagded.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" I feel like I've also grown after being moved by Gira's feelings for others!! Thank you Gira Husty!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" It's episode 49! It was cool to see everyone working together to take down Dagded! Don't mess with Racules's little brother! Stuff like that was good!

"Sakai Taisei's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" I was given the OK for a take in episode 48 where my pants zipper was wide open! When I checked, it was well hidden. Thank goodness~💦

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" This will be the culmination of King-Ohger, and it may be the last time we'll be able to meet everyone! Let's enjoy it as much as we can!

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" Thank you for your support over the past year! The warmth and energy I felt when meeting everyone at these events was truly encouraging! It would make me happy if you continue to love Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger from now on! See you later ^_^

Watanabe Aoto (Yanma Gast/TomboOhger) "I'm on top!"

The king of N'kosopa, the country of technology. He transforms into TomboOhger. N'kosopa's national power, which was once a satellite state of Shugoddam, has been greatly enhanced by technological innovations. Although he himself is a top class engineer, he was originally born in a slum and is considered an "upstart" He's got a bad mouth and says "octomush" and "slack jawed tanuki" on a daily basis.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" Thank you Yanma Gast.

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" I have fond memories of episode 2, which was shot on location during the cold season, and was created together with the extras who applied to be in the show.

"Watanabe Aoto's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" Halfway through my nose wouldn't stop running, so I was given multiple "runny nose NG" cuts.

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" With the story that everyone's put together in their minds, we'll beat things down with guts and brains until the very end.

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" Thank you for your support over the past year. The story ends here, but I'd be happy if you remember us again someday and come visit us here in Chikyu to play. And with that, until we meet again!!

Murakami Erica (Hymeno Ran/KamakiriOhger) "I'll do as I please and follow my own path!"

The queen of Ishabana, the country of fine art and medicine. Having lost her parents in the "Wrath of God," she became king at a young age. She transforms into KamakiriOhger. She loves beautiful and cute things, and will always get what she likes by any means necessary. However, on the other hand, she's also a passionate doctor who has no hesitation in "saving someone's life."

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" I'd be happy if many people were "saved" by Hymeno's strength!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" It's episode 28, where the kings swap bodies! In any case, we had fun and I think we saw the depth of each other's roles!

"Murakami Erica's "confidential episode" that she can only talk about now!" I brought my own bento to maintain my health and stay in shape, and yet……the famous tokusatsu "popeye onigiri," I never got to try it!!! (laughs)

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone who supported King-Ohger in all the regions around the country! Let's have lots of fun together 💛

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" Thank you for your support of King-Ohger over the past year! Even though the broadcast is over, I hope that this production will live on in everyone's hearts. Take care~💛💛💛

Hirakawa Yuzuki (Rita Kaniska/PapillonOhger) "Remain immovable"

The king of Gokkan, the country of ice and snow. They also serve as the Chief Judge of the International Court of Justice, which protects the neutrality of the world. Because of their position, not only do they always keep their facial expressions hidden, they rarely show emotion, but when they're at a loss, they sometimes makes strange noises. They're of few words, and never speak in public about anything unnecessary. The only thing they can make an exception for is their plushie of the animated character "Moffun." They transform into PapillonOhger.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" It was difficult, but it was really fun to perform!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" It's episode 5, "The King of Winter is Coming." It was my first trial scene, and it was a very important part of the story, so I clearly remember being very nervous during filming. It was really embarrassing when I said "death penalty" to Gira in the scene where I should've said "not guilty"……It's a fond memory now (laughs).

"Hirakawa Yuzuki's "confidential episode" that she can only talk about now!" To be honest, I'm not good with early mornings, I'm always in high spirits, but in the morning I'm about 2 beats behind in my reactions…(laughs).

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" I'd like to express my gratitude to everyone who's supported King-Ohger!! Definitely look forward to it :) I'm also looking forward to meeting everyone! I also want to eat lots of tasty food~! (laughs).

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" To everyone who's supported Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger over the past year, thank you so much. Everyone's messages of support and the power you gave me at these events kept me going until the end. I'd be very happy if this production remains in everyone's hearts even after the broadcast is over. King-Ohger is the best!! Thank you!!!

Kaku So (Kaguragi Dybowski/HachiOhger) "By any means necessary!"

The lord of Toufu, the country of agriculture. He transforms into HachiOhger. He's always humble and polite in tone, but the theatrics of his words and actions tend to stick out, so he's what you'd call a "trickster." He's "two faced" and will lie with ease in order to achieve his goals, but he's also willing to take the initiative to sweat and dirty his hands by "tainting them pitch black" in order to protect the lives of his people.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" You're so cool Kaguragi! Just like you, I'll live big so that I can protect what's important to me!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" It's episode 37!! Interacting with the former lord Iroki was fun to perform, and it was cool as Kaguragi too!!

"Kaku So's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" Around the time the script was being finished, I avoided doing muscle training because I figured Kaguragi would be more of a brainy character, but then I thought a powerful character would be more interesting, and so I enjoyed my muscle training life.

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" At last, the final stage! We'll all do our best to bring out the charm of King-Ohger without fail. Please enjoy it until the very last moment!

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" Thank you very much for your support so far. Without everyone's warm support, I wouldn't have been able to make it through this past year at full power! There's no doubt, King-Ohger has become an irreplaceable and important work in my life! I hope this production will remain in everyone's hearts for a long time!

Ikeda Masashi (Jeramie Brasieri/Spider Kumonos) "I rule over all and decide the fate of the world."

A man born between his father, the sixth hero that saved mankind 2,000 years ago, and his mother Nephila, a Bugnarak. His real name is Jeramie Idmonarak Ne Brasieri. He transforms into Spider Kumonos. As a "storyteller," he has long passed down the history of Chikyu, but finally realized his purpose when he showed up to stop the war between humans and Bugnarak.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" I'm happy that I encountered Jeramie, and that he was loved and accepted.

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" The first six person Royal Arms transformation. It's the best part about Sentai heroes, and I remember getting goosebumps the moment I saw the image of those six.

"Ikeda Masashi's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" I spilled coffee on my pure white costume.

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" We'll do our best to make it enjoyable for everyone.

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" King-Ohger wouldn't have been possible without everyone who has supported us. Thank you for all the love! May it continue to remain in everyone's memories. Thank you for the past year!!

Yano Masato (Racules Husty/OhkuwagataOhger) "May the blessings of the Shugod's be upon these warriors!"

The former king of Shugoddam. He inherited the throne from his father, Causus Husty. He believed that it wouldn't be easy to protect Chikyu from the threat of the Uchu King Dagded, and while acting like a selfish and reckless tyrant himself, his intent was to earn Dagded's trust and patiently wait for his chance to prevail. He transforms into OhkuwagataOhger. He joins forces with the Royal Sentai in the final battle.

"Looking back, say a few words for the character you spent a year playing!" I'm happy that I was able to play Racules!

"Out of all 50 episodes, which one was the most memorable?" For me, I have memories from every episode, including the ones I didn't appear in, but I'll never forget (the performance of) Sakai-kun fighting during filming of the first episode.

"Yano Masato's "confidential episode" that he can only talk about now!" Starting from the second chapter, my body had gotten so big that my costume became abit too tight (laughs).

"Please show us your enthusiasm for the Final Live Tour!" We'll do our very best to entertain everyone!

"A message to the fans who have supported you over the past year!" King-Ohger was really deep, huh? ^_^ I was very happy to be involved in this production! I think I made it through this past year due to everyone's support. From now on, it would make me happy if it continues to live on in everyone's hearts forever!

Friends of the King-Ohgers

Shugoddam Douga: He was the retainer and right hand man for Racules, and was in charge of Shugoddam's "military" affairs. Although he tried to find employment in the other countries, he eventually returned to Shugoddam and became the retainer to the new king, Gira. His personality is always serious. Kogane & Boone: A young girl and boy who love Gira, and who lived with Gira in an orphanage in Shugoddam's castle town. Goroge: In a way, he's a prominent figure, who for better or for worse, is someone who expresses his honest thoughts through words and actions when a major incident occurs.

N'kosopa Shiokara: Yanma's retainer who has deep respect for him. Originally a criminal in an organization that circulated counterfeit money in N'kosopa, he was reformed after meeting Yanma. He took on a supportive position for Yanma, who believes that technology can change the future. Akka, Usuba & Mayuta: These three are citizens of N'kosopa, who along with Shiokara, were once involved in the circulation of counterfeit money. After meeting Yanma, they were reformed like Shiokara. Their relationship with Shiokara hasn't changed since then.

Ishabana Sebastian: Hymeno's retainer. He's actually 25 years old, but when he became Hymeno's butler, he was given special makeup to give him an older appearance, and his name was changed from his real name, Romane Dearborn. Originally, he was the heir to a ducal family that has existed in Ishabana for 1,000 years. Elegance Moun: The chief physician of Ishabana. As her name suggests, she has an elegant appearance, but shows no compromise in her work (medical care), and acts with a strong will and sound judgment. Hymeno also places deep trust in her. Cleo Urbanus: The head maid who serves Hymeno…..which she is, but she has great physical strength and is also good at martial arts. In order to save Hymeno and the others, she once confronted a group of Sanagim and fought them off. In the final battle, she fought bravely alongside Kuroda and the others.

Gokkan Morphonia: Rita's retainer. She's a lazy person, and would rather not work if she can help it, but she does her job well. She's also the person who best understands the pain of loneliness that Rita carries. As a "child of criminals," she has mixed feelings about her position as a candidate to succeed Rita.

Toufu Kuroda: Kaguragi's retainer. Because of his position, he's usually quiet, but when he speaks, he has a smooth voice. His appearance is that of a so called "Kuroko," but the cloth that covers his face has a smile drawn on it. There are other Kuroko's who work at Takitate Castle, but Kuroda is thought to be their leader. Suzume Dybowski: Kaguragi's younger sister whom he dotes on. She calls him "big brother." She was in poor health as a child. She lived in Shugoddam as a "hostage" for the reconstruction of Toufu, but when she realized Racules's "objective," she chose to live as his willing accomplice.

Earth Empire Bugnarak An evil kingdom ruled by Desnarak VIII. After the overthrow of Desnarak VIII, it was reborn as the "Inbetween Land Bugnarak." Although it was once destroyed by the Uchu King Dagded, efforts to rebuild were continued in secret with Jeramie at the forefront.

Desnarak VIII: Ruler of the Bugnarak. Possessing the characteristics of an earthworm, he obtains nutrients from the soil and transforms them into his own energy. He met his end after being betrayed by Prime Minister Kamejim, but emerged from the Land of Death in the final battle. He worked together with the Royal Sentai and sent Kamejim to the Land of the Dead. Kamejim: Although he was the Prime Minister who served Desnarak VIII, he was actually the mastermind behind the battle between humans and Bugnarak, and was "Kamejim of Vanity" of the Uchu Five Jesters, who infiltrated Chikyu under the orders of Dagded. After that, he resumed his activities as Kamejim Unka. Daigorg: General of the Bugnarak who possesses the characteristics of a horned dung beetle. A hero to the Bugnarak, he contributed greatly to the unification of the underground world. He was revived through the technology of Shugoddam, but was defeated in a fierce battle with King Caucasuskabuto. Gerojim: A monster possessing the characteristics of a mayfly. By applying light refraction, he can mimic the appearance of a human. After being saved by Jeramie, he became loyal to him, and soon after was active as Jeramie's retainer, who had become the king of the "Inbetween Land Bugnarak."

Uchu Five Jesters A group of aliens led by the Uchu King Dagded. Up until now, they've led different species on numerous planets to conflict and destruction. With their sights set on Chikyu as their next target, they first attacked the Inbetween Land Bugnarak, and then launched a full scale attack to destroy all living beings on Chikyu.

Dagded Dujardin: The creator of all insect life forms. He has an invulnerable body that's immune to all attacks, and because of this, he always has time to speak and act in a way that belittles his opponents. For him, the destruction of other life forms is merely a form of "tidying up." Goma Rosalia: One of the Uchu Five Jesters known as "Goma of Suspicion." He possesses the characteristics of a longhorn beetle. He has the ability to swap any concept, from human minds to matter, and has swapped the bodies of the kings of six kingdoms. He unexpectedly died in battle after being brainwashed by Hilbill. Hilbil Leech: One of the Uchu Five Jesters known as "Hilbill of Enticement." She brainwashed the king's retainers and citizens, turning the human race on Chikyu into mobs. Finally, she brainwashed (it's implied) herself to become a giant in order to corner the King-Ohgers, but was ultimately defeated. Minongan Moth: One of the Uchu Five Jesters known as "Minongan of Concealment." Just as he looks, he's a "power fighter," with high offensive and defensive power. Angered by the defeat of Hilbil, he challenged the Royal Sentai to a battle in order to give him what he craved, but was defeated by the combined power of Kaguragi and Rita's "King's Proof." Grodie Leucodium: One of the Uchu Five Jesters known as "Grodie of Tranquility" He's the one responsible for causing the "Wrath of God." In order to defeat this "living corpse," the Royal Sentai implemented a strategy to bring him back to life. Grodie tried to bring upon the "Wrath of God" again, but was dealt the final blow.

"Thank you for your support over the past year"

Main Screenwriter Takano Minato Interview

"By the time this article is published, Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger's broadcast will have already finished airing. At this point (at the time of this interview), the writing process of the script may still be fresh in your mind, but how do you feel after writing a year long drama series?"

Takano: I'm clumsy by nature, so all I've been thinking about for the past year was "King-Ohger." I was just concentrating on the production. It's not an exaggeration to say that I was risking my life. That's why I feel so much attachment to it. In reality, I had to immediately start working on "King-Ohger VS Donbrothers" right after I finished the script for the final episode, so I didn't feel a sense of freedom (laughs), but I did feel a sense of accomplishment that I had made it to the end.

"So far, you've participated in the Kamen Rider series as one offs, but King-Ohger was the first time you participated in the Super Sentai series. Furthermore, it was the position of Main Writer……"

Takano: Toei's Producer Omori Takahito, who I worked with on "Kamen Rider Ex-Aid" and "Kamen Rider Zero-One," called me through his office, where I remember immediately saying, "I'll do it!" (laughs). For me, the most significant thing I had done before King-Ohger was the hour long drama "Shinhannin Flag," which ran for two quarters (half a year). That production was an original project for TV, it wasn't an adaptation, and one hour a month for half a year is about the same as 30 minutes a month over one year, right? I think I was lucky in terms of timing, as I was able to build such a track record.

"There were many challenging factors to the production of King-Ohger."

Takano: The first thing Omori-san told me was the concept of the project, "Everyone is part of the Royal Sentai. Furthermore, all of them are the strongest." Then, a switch was flipped and I thought, "Interesting!" We decided to have a brainstorming session, and on that day, I had created and submitted a complete set of ideas for the worldview of King-Ohger, the image for each country, character settings, and the overall series structure. At that point, I had already included the story surrounding the Uchu King and Racules. Looking back, it was like I had put everything I liked and had accumulated since childhood into it. For the main characters, with the exception of Gira, everything I wrote at the time went almost unchanged.

"What do you mean when you say accumulated?"

Takano: In the household I grew up in, TV and video games were prohibited when I was young, but because of my parents work, I was surrounded by children's literature, picture books, and the shonen manga that my father loved. I grew up devouring a variety of stories, so I was lucky to come across a project that allowed me to make use of that. I think that's why I was able to make it through the past year even though it was my first challenge in the Super Sentai series.

"You've created a magnificent worldview, but how did you feel when you first saw the completed footage?"

Takano: I was surprised. This was the first time for Toei to introduce virtual production in full, so I started writing the script early on, but then Omori-san told me, "You've written so much, but it may be impossible (to visualize it as imagined)." Here too I was like, "Well, you may be right……" And to be honest, I was also worried about how it would turn out. Over time, I wondered if he would eventually say something like, "We can't do this anymore, so let's stop." But, then I saw the footage, and those worries were blown away. Rather, I thought this would allow me to further expand my image. The CG assets (background materials) from each country were also excellent, which further increased my motivation.

"We were told by Director Kamihoriuchi Kazuya, who was the Main Director of the show, that the more Takano-san pushes himself, the better the script gets."

Takano: (laughs). He'd say things like……"Takamina, you only start scratching your head when you're getting serious." When I'm worried, I seem to scratch unconsciously. I think the first time I became numb to that person (Director Kamihoriuchi) was when we were finalizing the script for episodes 1 and 2, and there was a moment when the meeting stalled. At such times, because of my position, the Screenwriter often plays the role of communicator or someone who summarizes everyone's opinions, but when I tried to do so, he firmly said, "No, let's just think about making it interesting right now." That attitude had remained constant throughout. He's very particular about "creating interesting productions." When it comes to scripts, I stick to every last line until the very last minute before the submission deadline. Instead of motivating me, he just lets me write it until the end. It wasn't an easy task, but I could feel that it had become more interesting as I was revising it, and the Director was able to add the finishing touches to make it even better. I think that his uncompromising attitude had a great impact on the production. Just once, I'd like to see the Director make a movie with a budget of atleast 10 billion. I think he could make something amazing.

"Takano-san also visited the filming set as much as possible."

Takano: I myself used to have a theater company, and I just love the current state of creative production. I would look at the set with a feeling of respect, but it was also beyond my imagination. No one ever really talks about it, but everyone's passionate about it, they're all passionate about making something as "interesting as possible." Everything was so ingenious down to the finest detail, that it makes you think, "They'd really go this far?" So, no matter which episode you watch, it's already multiple times more interesting than the draft of the script. It was truly a rewarding job as a Screenwriter. It's not exactly Jeramie, but I included some "between the lines" in the script to think about. There was never a time when I thought, "This is wrong!" when looking at the footage created by those on set. It was more like, "Eh? You picked up on this here too?" I thought they were an amazing team, and I was again reminded of the beauty of "working together to create a work of art." I'll never forget the many warm words of encouragement I received from the staff on site.

"What do you think of the cast? Despite the large number of characters that appeared, we think that all of them became very lovable."

Takano: They were wonderful. What can be said in general is that everyone loved and nurtured their roles above all else. This is true not only for the main six, but also for Racules's Yano-san, and for everyone else who played a part as the retainers……It's all thanks to the cast that the roles expanded beyond what I originally had in mind. I used to do theater, so by getting to know them, I wanted to write scripts that brought out the best in the people performing them. So, when I went to the set, I actively talked to the cast. To give an example, when I asked Watanabe Aoto-kun, who plays Yanma, "Do you have any stories you want to do?," he said, "I've got alot" and he offered lots of ideas. Among them was a story about Yanma giving up everything for Shiokara, and I thought, "That might be good!" I expanded on it and wrote episode 35, "Don't Cry Slack Jawed Tanuki." Another thing was Rita's Hirakawa Yuzuki-chan, who said she wanted to "show her face," so I thought I'd write something with that.

"The enemy was changed from the Earth Empire Bugnarak in the first half, to the Uchu Five Jesters in the second half."

Takano: I also love villains, and even when I watch "Batman," I get emotionally invested with the Joker, so I was very particular about the evil setting. As for the Uchu King Dagded, I wanted him to be absolutely evil, so I decided not to explore any positive aspects of him. The Bugnarak arc was calculated backward from the Uchu Five Jesters arc, but I didn't want it to be a predictable development, so I put alot of thought into the order in which the monsters (Kaijim) would appear. It makes sense that Iragajim (episode 22) and Zarigajim (episode 24) appear at the end of the Bugnarak arc. Since Iragajim can steal Shugod Souls from the Shugods, which Bugnarak need to become gigantic, it was necessary to have him. And since Zarigajim was sent for the plan to destroy Chikyu, his appearance was timed that way. After that, there's the Uchu Five Jesters arc, and once again, all my favorite voice actors were cast (laughs), so I didn't want them to say anything meaningless, even if it was just one line of dialogue…..I was really happy because my favorite elements were included here as well (laughs).

"Please tell us how the final episode was created."

Takano: One climax was the story of Racules (episodes 42 and 43). There has always been some debate about how to conclude Racules, and one possible direction was to have him die, but if he died, he would become a hero. I felt that Racules, as a criminal, needed to pay for his past crimes, which is why it took the form you've all seen. In the following episodes, I again thought, "I'm not sure what I should write," but I decided to work on what I hadn't written yet by that point, and carefully complete them one by one. And so, episode 45 was about Kaguragi and Rita. I originally conceived Kaguragi and Rita as paired characters, but I wanted to rework that part of the story and include the issue of successors, which is inevitable in a story about kings. Then, episode 46 was about Hymeno and Jeramie. While also telling the story of their parents, I dealt with the issue of "life," as it's something those two have in common. Then, episode 47 is the reckoning of the "Wrath of God." The remaining three scripts were episode 48 to the final episode, which of course will be the story of defeating Dagded, but when it came time to decide what to do after that, Director Kamihoriuchi said, "Let's bring out everyone."

"Especially around episodes 49 and 50 (the final episode), the "Characters" section of the script was amazing."

Takano: The last three scripts were written as a way of "giving back" to various people. Even if it was just one word, I tried to write dialogue that would make all the cast members think, "I'm really glad to have been apart of this production." I felt the same way about the viewers, and I wanted to make them feel happy and enjoy watching King-Ohger all the way through to the end. It felt like I was writing a letter of gratitude to all of them.

"Being in charge of a one year drama series for the first time, especially a Sunday morning children's program, was there anything that you were careful about or anything you noticed?"

Takano: Since I don't have a family yet, I did some research with family members I know, but it seems that in reality, it's not easy to have the whole family sitting calmly in front of the TV the whole time during Sunday mornings. However, on the other hand, Toei's Super Sentai series and Kamen Rider series are among the few programs today that are mainly for children, but are also watched by their parents, so the idea was to create something that would be "interesting" to all audiences. So, of course I worked really hard on the aspect of it being a serial drama, but I also tried to include elements that could be enjoyed even if you watch only that episode during the weekly broadcasts. It was difficult to find a balance between it being worth watching as a serial drama and being interesting as a stand alone drama. The range of what I want to show is infinite, but that doesn't mean I should settle for the greatest common denominator, and I wanted to deliver something that was by no means mediocre. That's something I've always been aware of.

"Especially in the second half, we feel that this goal became more apparent. Dagded and the Five Jesters are so unique……(laughs). Normally, when a strong enemy appears, the story tends to go in a more serious and dark direction, but because the main enemy is a guy like that, the visuals of the strategies that are carried out can become funny. We're sure it would be easier to adjust the overall "taste" though."

Takano: I thought it was important to make a topic of conversation in that way, such as "the episode where the characters swap bodies" or, "the episode when the kings become children." No matter how exciting the main story may be, it's difficult to attract new viewers if it becomes contained, right? In recent years, I often see headlines like, "XX and XX have finally teamed up, and XX has been activated!" in online news articles, but for those who haven't seen it yet, It's just a bunch of words they don't understand (laughs). Instead, for example, using words like "trial by combat" or chosing a generic expression such as "sibling confrontation"……I was also particular about that. Then, as I mentioned earlier, there's the awareness of the target audience, which is family. Depending on their age, some children will enjoy different parts from their parents, so I was hoping that they would atleast find a character that they liked or that they could empathize with. If such a character exists, it's a reason to continue watching the show. I thought about this too, but I don't think it would have worked without the efforts of each of the cast members. For example, Douga-san was in a position where it was difficult to make him seem human, but I was inspired by Morioka Yutaka-san's performance, and later ended up writing the story about him looking for a job (laughs). Really, if I talk about each of these things one by one there is no end to it, and I feel that King-Ohger was a production that everyone worked on with a positive and pure passion.

"And finally, the story that'll be performed at the Final Live Tour is also written by Takano-san. We heard that the actual writing is still in the works….."

Takano: Since it's a stage play, It feels abit like I've returned home (laughs). However, since then, I've had the opportunity to write many scripts for movies and TV dramas and gained alot of experience, so I'd like to write what I can write because of who I am now, and what I write is because I'm in the world of King-Ohger. One thing I intentionally avoided in the TV series is that because they're kings, I basically didn't let them make choices like doing something in exchange for their lives. However, now that the kings have bonded with each other, I wonder if such a story is possible. Also, since it's a special stage performance, I'm thinking of ways to involve the audience as well. I hope that visitors who come to the venue will also become residents of "Chikyu" and participate in the story……Some completely different ideas are being thrown around, so I don't know what will happen yet (laughs), but I'll do my best to make sure you enjoy the stage version of King-Ohger as well!

Staff Comments on episodes Main Writer Takano, Producer Kuji Producer Omori, Assistant Producer Takahashi Main Director Kamihoriuchi

Episode 1 Racules's favorite Takano-san's comment: Gira's a character who uses villainous language. I was really worried at whether he'd be liked or not. And then, what Director Kamihoriuchi and Sakai-kun created was that 30 seconds of silence. I was sure that it would be an impactful moment. I could feel the care and passion of all the people involved from every corner of the picture, and I was shaking with happiness knowing that I was going to work with such wonderful people on this production for a year.

Episode 2 Yanma's favorite

Episode 3 Takano-san's comment: A beautiful and glittering princess, and a strong and noble queen. Cute and cool coexisting. There was no need to give up on either. She won't flatter anyone. Still, she wants to protect and be protected, love and be loved. She'll make it all happen. Living selfishly. The character of Hymeno-sama was also the "prayer" for the girls who watched the show.

Episode 5 Rita's favorite Takano-san's comment: It was an unexpected challenge to put judgment in a children's program, but I remember how relieved I felt when we received the positive response. It was also a pleasant miscalculation to find that Rita-sama stuck with adults who have gone through the hardships of society.

Episode 10 Takano-san's comment: I really wrote this with the intention of it being the final episode. I wrote the opening remarks for Legend King-Ohgers descent first, and then wrote everything backwards from there. Thankfully, the response I received was good, but at the same time, I was cursed to go all out on writing opening remarks each time.

Episode 12 Takano-san's comment: It was reeeeeeally tough! Jeramie was difficult! We were all trying to figure out what to and what not to do, but Director Kamihoriuchi turned it all around in the end, and we ended up with the best Jeramie and story! We had to revise the entire script, which I had written up to about 20 episodes at that point, but it was alright!

Kuji-san's comment: The composition, dialogue, action and music…it's a good feeling to feel the bold yet subtle professionalism in every scene. Even reading between the lines was enjoyable, and I become excited no matter how many times I watch it.

Episode 14 Jeramie's favorite

Episode 19 Takano-san's comment: When the relentless and coldhearted Producer Omori said to me, "I want the words Ohsama Sentai to have significance," a "Huh?" flew out of my lips. It took me a whole day to get to the point where I could read "kotozama" (strange) as "kotosama." As a result, I'm really glad I went through all that trouble.

Episode 26 Takano-san's comment: I've loved villains since I was a kid. The true value of a villain is at the end of their life. I loved Desnarak-sama so much that I cried while writing it. It made me really happy when Producer Omori, who shows almost no emotion said, "I cried when I read your script."

Episode 27 Takano-san's comment: Even though it had been decided from the beginning that Dagded would appear, to the viewers, it was the sudden appearance of an unknown character. Furthermore, I had been begging with "Ishida Akira-san will work best," so when it really happened, I wrote the story as if I was put my life on the line. Thanks to the overwhelming visuals and great work done by Director Kamihoriuchi and the CG team, this was an appropriate opening for the new chapter.

Episode 29 Omori-san's comment: With the start of the second chapter, I think the arrangement of this episode, after the completely serious episode 27, and episode 28, which ignored everything and was comical, was actually key for the second half of the series. The unique coolness of Jeramie and his bond with the other kings was shown through a perfect balance of script and direction.

Episode 30 Hymeno's favorite

Episode 32-33 Omori-san's comment: I won't hide it, Ryusei-san was the first one to be given the OK for his appearance. These episodes were made possible because he was already scheduled to appear in the V-Cinext, so I think that's why everyone else also appeared.

Episode 33 Kuji-san's comment: The power of the Great and Mighty Lizards (Kyoryugers), whose bravery has increased over the past 10 years was amazing, but I realized that the charm of the kings is brought out even more when there are strong characters next to them. In any case, it was an extravagant episode.

Episode 35 Takano-san's comment: Aoto-kun said to me, "I want to do a story where I have to give up everything to protect just one person, Shiokara!" This episode was made possible thanks to Chiwata-kun's efforts to develop his character of Shiokara on set and his increasing popularity. I thought this was the best part of working together to create a long story. The last scene made me cry so much that it took me a while to write it.

Episode 37 Kaguragi's favorite Takano-san's comment: It's under the pretense of…a surprise performance by a married couple, but it was a profound human drama, and a dialogue heavy one. Honestly speaking, I thought it is insane to attempt through acting. It wouldn't have been possible if Kaku-san wasn't Kaguragi. I think this is one of those episodes that pushed the limits of morning tokusatsu programs for children.

Episode 38 Takano-san's comment: "I want to do something silly" is what I used to say when writing King-Ohger. It was also a phrase to keep my sanity in check, because if I was too serious, I'd lose sight of its essence as a children's show. This was the culmination of that. The argument of, "Why idols?" was one of the most serious topics that Producer Omori and Director Kamihoriuchi had ever had. Being silly must be taken seriously.

Episode 39 Takahashi-san's comment: The high level action was something that only King-Ohger can create. I think the action scene against Goma was an unprecedented challenge for a Japanese live action drama. I rewatched the 1 minute and 10 seconds of action countless times.

Episode 40 Omori-san's comment: This is the episode where we find out that Gira was born from the Uchu King. You may not have noticed it much, but even when depicting heavier themes, I made it a rule to "always end with a victory or them standing." Even if there's a wall, kings are the ones who always stand up.

Episode 41 Takahashi-san's comment: This is the episode where Racules shows his "real face" for the first time. The line from Racules became the subtitle of the episode. It's not an exaggeration to say that 40 episodes had been accumulated for this single line, so it was the ultimate "catharsis" for me when I heard it. Yano-san's performance was also wonderful.

Episode 42 Takano-san's comment: Although the truth about Racules had been decided before I wrote the first episode, the most important thing I kept thinking about was how to reveal it. I was on a walk while I was thinking about episode 8, when it came to me and I cried. I was absolutely determined that I would not die until I wrote this episode.

Episode 49 Gira's favorite Kamihoriuchi's comment: This is the "culmination" episode of King-Ohger, where the staff and cast were giving it their all.

Episode 50 Takano-san's comment: Episodes 48-50, those three episodes were written as a long final episode. It's a conclusion that couldn't have been written without a buildup, so I wrote this as a gift of gratitude to the cast, staff and viewers. I worked on the manuscript with Producer Omori and Director Kamihoriuchi until morning, and the selfie I took with the big smile on my face while shouting, "I did it!" is my treasure.

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger: Ancient Alphabetical Reference Table

#ohsama sentai kingohger #kingohger #super sentai #gira husty #yanma gast #hymeno ran #himeno ran #rita kaniska #kaguragi dybowski #jeramie brasieri #racules husty #racles husty #my scans #my translation #tokusatsu #toku cast #kingohger cast #kingoh flt #ohsama sentai king ohger #king ohger #takamina-san 😭🥺 #the restocked items I also got only just shipped out #this came thursday so maybe this week they'll arrive

[nonbinaryspy]

Meta: Timerra and Tellius

Timerra’s (belated) birthday gives me an excuse to talk about one of my favorite Engage topics: the parallels between her and various Tellius characters.

(Spoilers for FE9/10 and FE17.)

The obvious place to start is Ike. As Timerra’s personal Emblem, his build and paralogue in Engage focus on turning defense into offense to endure and protect others. This synergizes with Timerra’s Sandstorm ability as well as her priorities as Solm’s future queen.

Compared to other Emblem summonings in the game, the scene where Ike is summoned is quick and to-the-point. The Solm royals are highly competent, with a wide spy network, and already had a plan in place for when Alear shows up. They have a healthy wariness they don’t immediately display, as they welcome Alear with open arms while secretly testing if they are the true Divine Dragon. By the time Timerra meets Alear, their identity has been confirmed and bandits are already attacking, so she jumps straight into action to get Ike’s help and protect the village.

I’m sure Ike would approve of her no-nonsense approach and her focus on keeping people safe, especially after all of his own bandit fights. He has no patience for bureaucracy or noble trappings, but he understands the need for discretion when danger and politics are involved (see: his own ‘sometimes you have to fool your allies’ maneuver in RD part 2), so I think he would appreciate how the Solm royals handle this.

But you don’t have to take my word for that. Between Timerra and Seforia saying they always wanted to meet him, Timerra calling him family, Ike telling Fogado that Solm castle reminded him of being with the mercenaries, and his first Somniel dialogue saying that he already misses Solm, I think it’s safe to say there’s a lot of natural fondness between Ike and the Solm royals. Is there any wonder, when one of Solm’s main norms is accepting people regardless of their origins, possibly Ike’s defining ideal?

My favorite example of this is when Alear’s origins are revealed, and Timerra and Fogado have some of the most affirming reactions:

[ID: Four screencaps with the following dialogue toward Alear: Timerra: What matters to me isn’t how you were born. It’s what you do with the life you’re given. Timerra: If you choose to live as a Divine Dragon, then that’s what you are! Timerra: Nothing’s changed as far as I’m concerned. The you that’s in front of me—that’s all I need. Fogado: The people of Solm don’t care about origins. We care about the you NOW. And you are amazing.]

This aspect of Timerra shines throughout her supports, most notably in her relationships with Merrin and Panette. Their love and loyalty toward her stems from a time before they even knew she was a princess. They both see her as a beacon in their lives, as they wished to escape the confines of their pasts and find new futures for themselves. Timerra saw them for their ideal versions of themselves—Merrin as a chivalrous knight, Panette as someone who isn’t caught in a destructive cycle—rather than the situations they came from. Her acceptance helped them create those realities for themselves.

Anyway, unrelated to the above, just a completely random pair of images that don’t make me cry at all:

[ID: In a screencap from Engage, Timerra is saying, “No matter what’s happened, you’re still you. Let’s go save the world, Ike!” In a screencap from Path of Radiance, Ike is telling Soren, “No. It doesn’t change anything. You’re still you, Soren!”]

Another example is Timerra’s attitude toward Veyle. In the main plot, she’s one of the few main characters to express distrust toward Veyle even after the truth is revealed. However, once Veyle has proven herself as an ally, Timerra is extremely friendly toward her in their supports, with Veyle appreciating how Timerra treats her like any other friend rather than a Fell Dragon’s daughter. Again, this is reminiscent of Ike’s blend of skepticism and treating everyone the same.

I think it’s also interesting that Timerra struggles with conflicting desires for freedom vs. connection, as shown in her S support. Despite Ike’s love for people, he doesn’t always deal well with the responsibilities and expectations that get placed on him, and his ending shows he shares some of her wanderlust.

Timerra: When we connect with people─you know, really bond with them─those bonds make us stronger. Timerra: I mean, our closest allies help us do things we could never do all by ourselves. Timerra: That’s powerful stuff. But those bonds─those friendships─can feel like obligations too.

Finally, one of my favorite parallels between Ike and Timerra is a shared charm point: the fact that they live as they please, regardless of what others think, while also acting like everything they do is super obvious. An extremely ‘have your cake and eat it too’ mentality that I can only respect. 

Alear: Still, you never cease to amaze. You take it upon yourself to help root out bandits… Timerra: What, is that not normal? Timerra: I’m just protecting my people. I thought that’s what royalty was supposed to do. Alear: You say something completely radical like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Timerra: Hahaha! That’s my charm!

Ranulf: Well…a little crazy, yeah! I’ve never worked for a leader who’s as blunt and straightforward as you. It’s pretty shocking to have a commander who doesn’t care what anyone thinks, no matter how powerful they are. Ike: Well, that’s just my style. I don’t have to be like someone else, do I? Ranulf: Why are you so confident? I don’t get it. Normal beorc just do what people tell them and try not to make a fuss. But not you. I heard you even yelled at the apostle! Ike: Yeah, that wasn’t my brightest moment. Ranulf: Then again, worrying about a beorc like this is definitely not normal laguz behavior. I guess I’m a fish out of water myself… Wait, did I just call myself a fish? Ike: Wha–? Ha ha! You’re a cat, remember!? I thought you ate fish. Ha ha ha!

Okay, that last bit isn’t relevant, but I just want to highlight that while Timerra and Fogado talk about how serious Ike is compared to them, they would definitely enjoy his secret love of bad puns. Here’s a bit of Timerra’s own sardonic humor that brings Ike to mind:

Alear: What?! How do you eat that much?! Timerra: Oh, you know. Open my mouth, bite, chew. I won’t bore you with all the details.

Of course I have to mention their love of meat, even if I don’t find that to be an important part of Ike’s character. What I will say is that Ike is shown in his supports with Oscar to have a genuine appreciation for artful cooking, so I think it’s neat that Timerra is one of the best cooks in the army. It’s also endearing that she feels bad for cooking around Ike when he can’t eat, though he tells Fogado the smell is enough.

Next, I want to talk about a couple of characters who aren’t in Engage: Mist and Elincia. I adore that the focus on Timerra protecting Ike flips his dynamic with both of these ladies on its head. Speaking of protection…I believe that Mist and Ike’s relationship mirrors Timerra and Fogado’s, with their fond, casual banter. It makes sense, since both duos are close in age.

Interestingly, despite Timerra being Fogado’s older sister, he is as protective of her as Ike is toward Mist. In Fogado’s case, he seems to almost see himself as Timerra’s retainer, given that he will one day be her advisor. He travels around to prepare himself for this role. Timerra, however, doesn’t always like this, as she wishes they could hang out more and that he would be more candid with her. While they’re clearly close, the distance still leaves her lonely.

Though it’s a different situation, Greil’s death puts Ike in the role of Mist’s protector at the same time that he gains dangerous responsibilities. He also takes it upon himself to get revenge on their father’s killer. She stresses that she does not want him to do these things if it means she’ll lose him, too, and as the game goes on, they lose some of the lighthearted dynamic they had at the game’s start. Having already lost her parents, it’s easy to assume Mist feels lonely in this circumstance. She even has her own protective streak toward Ike, such as in her battle conversations with the Black Knight and Ashnard. Like Timerra, Mist wants to stay close to her loved ones and protect them, and she joins the fighting to that end, even learning swordplay despite being a healer.

Despite their troubles, Mist and Timerra share a bubbly personality. They tend toward optimism and try to hide their cares them. Their sunniness gets them and others through tough situations. However, those around them still want to be able to support them even when struggle with being vulnerable.

In my opinion, some of Mist’s designs evoke Timerra’s, such as in the colors and flowing accessories. While the clothes aren’t super similar, I think the two of them would definitely enjoy going clothes shopping together. I also think they’d like to sing together. Timerra’s silly songs may be a far cry from the galdr that Mist and Elena safeguard, but that would suit Mist just fine.  

Possibly my favorite character to compare Timerra to, though, is Elincia. Timerra’s bangs and the fact that her hair is tied up even follow in the character design traditions of Elincia and other characters in her archetype, such as Nyna and Guinevere. Granted, Timerra’s ponytail is a lot looser than those other characters, which is an excellent design choice as she has a much more free-spirited personality.

Still, Elincia once upon a time was not so different. She grew up in secret, frolicking in the countryside with no expectation of becoming queen. As a result, she did many things most princesses didn’t do, such as chores, horseback riding, and sword fighting. It’s commented many times that due to cultural differences as well as Timerra’s own personality, her lifestyle and activities are often at odds with what others expect from a princess. While their allies might find both princesses strange at times, they end up trusting and supporting them due to their approachable natures.

Elincia is shown to have a playful streak in PoR when she is reunited with her retainers, around whom she feels comfortable enough to drop her more stately personality. On the flip side, while Timerra is more frequently playful, she never forgets her role. Even her more casual supports show this, such as when she susses out Ivy’s weakness during a camping trip, or interrupts a training session with Diamant to ask if he believes peace is possible. Many of her exploration quotes show this as well, with her referencing the other nations’ politics and even in her response if her allies die.

“My brother, my stewards…gone. It’s so cruel. But as the future queen, I will not crumble!”

Elincia and Timerra’s upbringings contrast with each other, since Timerra has always known she would be queen. Her free-spirited nature stems from Solm’s ideals and the role of its government. After Daein invades, Elincia has to travel incognito, giving her a chance to learn about the world. She develops a strong desire to protect her people. The endpoint of her character development in PoR is where Timerra is already at when we are introduced to her—Timerra has been training and traveling incognito and is ready to defend her country. Regardless of where they start, Elincia’s compassion and resolve are reflected in Timerra, who only wants to make her people happy and believes the best way to do that is to get to know them, so she can better understand and protect them.

The games’ plots present challenges that test both characters’ resolve. While Elincia has to make a variety of decisions, the one I want to highlight comes at the end of RD part 2, when Lucia is taken hostage. Elincia is told that Lucia will die unless she gives up the throne to a usurper. However, she refuses. Despite the sacrifice of someone dear to her, she will never give up on protecting Crimea. In the end, both Lucia and Crimea are safe, but it has nonetheless been demonstrated what Elincia would do under that pressure.  

I thought of this when I got to one of my favorite moments in Engage, when Timerra and co. have to take back the palace from the Elusians. Hortensia holds her mother hostage, assuming Timerra will bend and hand over the Emblem rings. However, doing so would doom Solm along with the rest of the world. Timerra refuses to back down, and she saves her family along with her country.

[ID: Five screencaps alternating between RD and Engage. Elincia and Timerra look resolved, while Lucia and Seforia as hostages look on proudly. Elincia: But I will see Crimea through this trial. I will give my people the future they deserve, no matter the cost. Timerra: So threaten us all you want. Take my whole family hostage, if it makes you happy. Timerra: But I stand for Solm, and I always will. Lucia: People of Crimea... Behold a true queen! YOUR queen! Long live Queen Elincia! Seforia: There she is, the future queen of Solm. And her ally, the Divine Dragon.]

Back to characters who are in Engage: the other Tellius Emblems. As with Elincia, Micaiah is presented with a series of trolley problems throughout RD. There’s a big focus in the Tellius games on making decisions for personal vs. political reasons, and whether to prioritize a loved one/a situation that is right in front of you over the bigger picture, and I think this is most complex with Micaiah’s story. This is highlighted when Sothe is held hostage and she is told to stand down to save him. This recalls the situation I already discussed with Timerra.

Like Timerra, Micaiah is a tactical thinker who has to foresee long-term plans as well as use strategic approaches in situations where she’s outnumbered. Micaiah ends RD as Daein’s queen, despite not being brought up for that role and having traveled in disguise, getting to know and love Daein’s people. Again, this fits with Timerra traveling around incognito and being passionate about protecting Solm.

Timerra expresses that Solm didn’t reach out for help when Sombron returned because they’d have to return other nations’ support when it was taking all of their efforts just to keep Solm safe. This brings to mind Micaiah’s conflicts, as she has to make difficult decisions to protect Daein from Begnion’s occupation and the blood pact, which sometimes involves rejecting outside help when a situation is too complicated, such as in her 3-13 battle talk with Ike.

Unfortunately, Emblem bond supports don’t have the scope for these sorts of complexities. However, I was tickled by the fact that Timerra invites Micaiah to sing with her, as a reference again to the Galdrs.

Speaking of bond supports…I don’t have anything deep to say about Timerra and Soren, but just look at how precious they are:

[ID: Two Emblem Bond screencaps. Soren is bowing with his hand over his heart, and he and Timerra are smiling at each other. Soren: You’re the princess of Solm, is that right? I thank you for protecting Ike. Timerra: He’s told me so much about you. I expect big things from you, talented advisor!]

Her careful approach to protecting Ike’s ring won the trust of someone with deep trust issues and a protective streak toward Ike, aww. They’re friends in my files every time. It’s also sweet that she wants to understand him and Ike better by learning about the mercenaries. I know she loves her moodier Emblem pals, but I’m sure she’d feel right at home with the whole rambunctious crew, like how Ike felt at home in Solm.

While this post is long enough without going into depth on Yunaka, as Micaiah’s guardian she also has a combination of Tellius influences, between her obvious parallels to Yune and Sothe as well as some of the themes of Micaiah’s character. Micaiah’s introduction, with her calling out to Yunaka, even mirrors Micaiah hearing Yune’s voice. For these reasons, I really wish she and Timerra had talked. I think Timerra’s simultaneous hidden wariness and acceptance of people regardless of their backgrounds would definitely play well with Yunaka’s arc. Fogado, as someone who shares Timerra’s ideals, certainly had a positive influence on Yunaka in their supports with his compassion. Plus, can you imagine the silly phrases Timerra and Yunaka would invent together?

I’ll end this before it strays too far from the main point, but I hope someone else enjoys these observations! Timerra is my favorite Engage character, and since Tellius is so dear to me, noticing these connections definitely made her character even more special.

#fire emblem #fe17 #fe: engage #tellius #path of radiance #radiant dawn #timerra #timerra fire emblem #ike fire emblem #elincia ridell crimea #mist fire emblem #micaiah #soren fire emblem #yunaka #fogado #fe9 #fe10 #fire emblem engage

[primofate]

The Ruthless Prince (Part 19) Scaramouche x fem!reader [Genshin Royal AU]

Summary: When Prince Scaramouche picks you out of a random group of commoners to marry, your life is turned upside down. He’s mean, snarky, condescending and he doesn’t act like a proper husband or prince at all. However, when Prince Tartaglia from the neighbouring kingdom takes an interest in you, Prince Scaramouche finds himself even more annoyed than usual. This is the story of him and you navigating this roller coaster of a relationship.

Warnings: heavy angst on Scaramouche’s part, severely injured reader with heavy thoughts of death

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary and a recap on the Royal AU plots are here.

Read other parts: (Ruthless Prince Masterlist)

“You did well, son,”

Two days after the incident, the king and queen, Scaramouche’s mother and father, arrived back from their long tour and journey of traversing other kingdoms and building alliances. It was a necessary thing to do, if they wanted their own kingdom to thrive. 

Already, as soon as the king arrived he had made several arrangements for repair work. It looked as if their tour was successful, as he noted that several other countries and kingdoms were willing to supply them with some resources that they lacked. 

To Scaramouche, though, that help came all too late, but he said nothing about it. Nothing he said now would change anything of the past.

“Scaramouche,” his mother, while his father had gone off to take care of the mess, embraced her son and mumbled. “The messenger told us everything, you must be exhausted,” 

He was a grown man, but in front of his mother, he was just a boy. She pulls away to give him a sympathetic gaze, one that he didn’t meet as he just looked at the ground. Defeated.

The words you did well meant nothing to him. With Kuni dead and Y/N gone, the gnosis missing, casualties within the knights left and right “You did well” seemed hardly the right assessment of things. 

Mother, with hair that reached to her mid-back, wavy in the right places yet not overly so, reached out for her son’s hand and walked with him. Her orchid-coloured hair swayed with her, she was graceful in a lot of ways, but the crinkles in her eyes showed her age. Despite that, she was beautiful, and one could hardly call her ‘old’ since her beauty trumped it. “I’ll run some tea, and have them make a lavender melon pie for old time’s sake and we can talk, alright, dear?”

His father, Scaramouche respected, but his mother… He didn’t mean to pick favourites, but it was inevitable when his father was so busy and his mother was so doting. Scaramouche was powerless in front of his mother, she was comfort when everything else fell apart around him. He only nodded in response. That, and she had a hidden talent of being intimidating when she wanted to, just as all mothers did, even more so than his father.

Mother opted to walk with him to his study and Scaramouche only realized it when they were already in front of his study door. He stops, his hand pulling back almost automatically, and he winces, like he didn’t mean for that kind of reaction. His mother turns back, questioning gaze in her eyes as she was just about to open his study door. “...Do you not prefer to sit and talk in your study, son?” 

Scaramouche felt a lump in his throat, but he swallowed it down hard, the memories of the past two days haunting him. 

When he got back to the castle on horseback it had already been morning. He hadn’t slept, trekking that river up and down three, four, five times before he finally gave up and told himself he’ll look for you again tomorrow. No matter how many times he looked at the ring on his finger, it was just a cold silver metal pressed on his skin now, there was no colour that indicated that you were still alive. 

He still remembered he had other duties to attend to back in the castle, mainly Kuni and the other casualties. So without any sleep in his veins he proceeded to oversee the clean up of the castle, the captain of the knights had reported back to him, telling him how many men had fallen. He moved to the infirmary at some point and asked the head healer how everything looked, and she gave him numbers. 

There was a certain procedure when someone died fighting for the kingdom, there were special rewards for their immediate family as well as a special resting place for them. None of that could ever cover up for the grief of losing a beloved, of course, but it was how things were, working for the royal family. 

A team was dispatched to tell the bereaved, and Scaramouche wanted to be in charge of Kuni’s procedures…mostly because Kuni didn’t have any family. He had literally spent all his life serving the royal family, and had no connections whatsoever to the outside world. Scaramouche didn’t know how to feel about that fact, as he watched their funeral director go over Kuni’s body, cleaning it up for the next step. Kuni may not have had family outside of the castle, but Scaramouche realizes now that everyone inside the castle had probably treated him as some type of guide and mentor, a father figure. That included Scaramouche himself. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. In his mind he had said thank you and farewell to the old man already, in reality he just couldn’t take another second of looking at the mistake he could have avoided. He took one last look at Kuni’s body before leaving the funeral director to do his job. Perhaps he would have more courage to say the actual words of thanks out loud at Kuni’s funeral…but at that moment all Scaramouche could think about was how he wished you were here.

You would understand. You would be just as angry and just as downcast as him, and you wouldn’t judge him for it. You probably would have blamed yourself the same way he was doing now. At least he wished there was someone he could share this agony with, but there was no one except more agony waiting for him in his bedroom, seeing as it was empty, and it would be for a long time until he found you. 

As much as he wanted to collapse in bed, his attire was still dirty and bloody, so he proceeded to the shower instead. He stripped off all his clothes, but it wasn’t enough to lift the overbearing weight on his shoulders, he still felt as if he had his armor on him, still felt as if he was on horseback, still felt as if he was brushing Kuni’s eyelids close. 

The shower turned on and the pitter patter of it against the tiles soothed him in some way. He stood there bare and unable to even understand what he had to do now. Showering seemed like such a difficult task all of a sudden. Not wanting to think or do anything for the time being, he let himself shuffle forward, his forehead lightly hitting the shower wall as he let the water rain down on him. Hoping that it would wash away dirt, but also hoping that regret would be washed away with it. 

He didn’t know how long he spent in there, but it was noon when he emerged in his sleep attire, though he was dripping wet and didn’t even bother to dry himself off completely. He fell face first into the bed, and he immediately knew sleep wouldn’t visit him anytime soon. 

It was so… large. This bed. He could spread both arms out and every part of him still fit in it. 

He hated it. 

When you were here, he had to keep his arms to himself for months, mostly because the two of you were not comfortable with skinship but also because he hadn’t felt anything for you those first few weeks. 

You were just an insufferable pretend wife that he needed. 

And now? 

He grits his teeth remembering the first time he really kissed you. Not the wedding, that was not even comparable to the first night, the only night the two of you spent wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

That was just yesterday…what happened…? 

He thought to himself. Closing his eyes didn’t help with trying to block out all the times he saw you smile, or all the times you looked so pissed at him–he honestly thought that was your best facial expression–or all the times you bantered back with him. 

That was another problem. 

It was quiet. 

Yet his mind was full of noises, your voice hovering over each other, your incredulous scoff when he said something unbelievable, things that you’ve said that he just suddenly remembered.

“…You didn’t have to punch him, you know,” in response to that time he had punched Tartaglia in public.

“I just don’t want to spin out of control or…or something,” the first time you practice a dance with him, and him, replying with all the confidence in the world, hand around your waist,  “You won’t,”

“I vow to always be by your side…” he remembers how cold your hands were when you restate your wedding vows during his birthday, was that out of nervousness? “…To be your shelter, your strength…and your bride,” 

He jolts up from the bed, swinging his legs over the edge and planting his elbows on his knees, palms yet again covering and digging into the dips of his eyes, willing himself to stop thinking about it, but it doesn’t help one bit. 

He stands and almost runs away from the room, he can’t stay there right now. The pillows smell like you but it doesn’t give him any comfort. He opts to go to his study, maybe do some reading or paperwork and just…fall asleep on the table. You hadn’t spent a lot of time in his study, there would be no trace of you there, maybe that would help. 

Perhaps it was all the happenings of the past two days that makes him forget your painting is hanging up on his study wall. He entered his study with a little bit of ease in his mind, but when he sat on his chair he came face to face with the serene painting of him hanging next to the door. 

Scaramouche froze on his seat, back tense and arms stiff at the sight of the watercolours melding into a perfect–yet not so perfect with that grey blotch on the side–painting of him drinking tea. It’s just as he saw it the first time. A side profile of him, lifting a teacup to his lips in his prince garb, eyes looking off to somewhere far away, plate of biscuits on the coffee table in front of him.

It was night and day, the difference between him in that painting and the him sitting in his study right now. The tones of purple and yellow on the painting were bright, you could tell that light was pouring through from the window in your rendition of him, but now he sat here in the dark and he was sure that his expression was nothing like it was in the painting. 

The sound of his chair scraping on the floor woke him to the fact that he was walking towards the painting without thinking. 

This was the only piece of you that he had left. 

The only proof that you were not just some type of dream or illusion that graced his life for a few months. 

This was proof that you were real, and you were right there with him. That you accepted him despite his fucked up past and the assholish things that he had done. It was then that he realized how much you really had to go through to enter the royal family, to be betrothed to him, and yet, you were stronger than what he had anticipated.

His hand lifted and touched the words on the bottom of the painting: Happy Birthday. From: Y/N

A soft scoff escaped from his lips at the memory of him forcing you to write your name on it. You were upset that he had ruined the painting, and in classic Scaramouche-Y/N manner the two of you had still quarreled and argued over it despite it being his birthday present. He never did apologize out loud for ruining it. 

It’s strange, the sudden tremble he feels on his lips when he remembers bits of annoying yet tender memories of you. Maybe this was his chance to say “...Sorry, Y/N,” he breathes it out like a secret, lays his forehead on the painted version of him that he knew was happy, simply indulging in the tea you brewed and the biscuits you picked out. 

He pictured in his mind what kind of reaction you would have, if you heard him utter a real apology to you. The pretend conversation in his mind plays out, with your wide awestruck gaze on him “You’re saying sorry to me?” and him probably just glaring in response, but there’s still amusement in your eyes when you smile and laugh a little. “The world must be ending,” 

That doesn’t help. That made the lump in his throat bigger and made the tremble in his lips stronger. He tethered himself to reality by holding onto the frame of the painting. It hurt more because it was all just in his mind now, it was not real, he was making conversations up, just to keep a bigger piece of you, and when that hit him his legs grew weak and he fell to his knees in front of the painting, head dipped down and angry, frustrated tears threatening to spill over.

His throat was burning, trying his hardest not to cry because he didn’t do that. That was not him at all yet it was so, so difficult in this cold world all by himself. “It feels like that, Y/N,” he whispers to himself, in his mind still continuing the pretend conversation in his own world with you still in it, “It feels like the world is ending,” 

And the first few tears fell. The amount of failure that he had accumulated in one day manifesting in salty droplets running down his cheeks: Kuni, the gnosis, his kingdom, his knights, and the unexpected biggest share of his grief, came from the fact that he would go through every day without your presence anymore. 

“Scaramouche, dear?” His mother’s voice pulls him back to the current reality, and he felt like he had been gone for a while. Scaramouche’s face hardens, eyes darting over to the study door, knowing that the painting was there, waiting for him. He pulls his hand away from his mother’s and shook his head. “...There’s…a better place…” 

Scaramouche turns without asking his mother to follow, he still had his gruff attitude even around her, but he looked back to check if she was following, and indeed she was. He doesn’t know what compels him to travel towards your Art room. There were too many memories of you in there and yet for some reason he wanted to see it. Perhaps because that room was also another piece of you to remember by, and he had just wanted to stamp it in his memory. 

When he arrives, he’s a little nervous at the door, but he pushes it open and steps in. The smell of paint, oil pastel and tea attacks his nose. It’s such a strange combination, but it was comforting to him. 

His mother stepped in behind him and instinctively took a walk around the room. She saw the papers strewn around on the large table, an easel standing near the window, shelves of paint and art materials lined up. Her eyes drag over to the other side. A coffee table and comfy chairs, instead of art materials, cans of tea lined the shelves on the other side. A peculiar combination, his mother thought.

“...This is a new room, have you picked up a new hobby dear?” His mother asked, smiling lightly and looking at his son who was absentmindedly staring at the easel near the large windows. He looked to be in his own world again, seeing a ghost of someone painting, wrist moving up and down in strokes and head tilting to inspect if she had done her illustration properly.

Scaramouche once again pried his eyes off the illusion of you, eyes darting towards his mother. “Uh… No,” he finally answered. “It’s just… Y/N’s Art room,” He turned away and walked towards the shelf of tea leaves, not knowing what he was looking for, just browsing for a distraction, but he had missed the astonished look on his mother’s face. 

“...You had a room constructed for her?” Mother asked and Scaramouche lifted a hand up over a high shelf, fingers brushing over a tin can that said “Chamomile Tea Leaves”. He read that it helped with sleep, and he hadn’t had a good wink ever since the war. 

“...The room was already constructed…It was just a sitting room back then, I just… had it renovated,” Scaramouche explained, moving the tin can forward so that it landed safely in his hand, grasping it carefully and walking over to the coffee table in the room. He sat on the chair that he was sitting on in the painting, but stopped himself from thinking of it too much before he spiraled down another hole of regret.

His mother approached him, an ever present smile on her face and putting a hand out for the tin can. Scaramouche passed it over to her. “...You seem to have grown a lot more attached to her since the last time I checked, dear,” and he could say nothing to his mother’s observation. 

“Attached” wasn’t quite the word for it. He didn’t know what word to describe this lost feeling in his chest, nor the nights that tortured him cause every time he looked at your side of the bed, he thought you would be there, but you weren’t. “Attached” was a little of an understatement. 

“Mm,” He could only let out, eyes wandering away from her, landing on the ring on his finger once again. He would look at it every so often, hoping that there would be some inkling of a colour, some sort of clue, some direction in this pathless chase after you. 

“...Scaramouche,” his mother’s voice had a sense of firmness in it for the first time, his face automatically obeys and turns to finally meet his mother’s eyes for the first time that day. Her gaze was serious. “It’s not time to give up yet, don’t you think so?”

He sighed, his thumb was absentmindedly touching the ring, just feeling the metal of it. “...The ring hasn’t given me any clue that she’s still alive… I’ve looked for her. I don’t know where she is. I’ve asked Kokomi to help, along with her subordinates and yet…” His mother’s soft chuckle threw him off, he looked back at her with a questioning gaze, wondering what exactly she found funny.

“Your father and I have long abandoned those rings, do you know that?” She went around her son, over to the nearest armchair next to him. “Well, of course, when we were younger it was like a guide, but the older we got the more we realized it was better to trust our instincts instead of what the ring showed us,” She reached over to place a hand on Scaramouche’s shoulder. “There are a lot of things that could have happened, son. It could have been damaged, lost while she fled, malfunctioned…The ring is just a tool, not a prophecy,” There was a scolding tone to her voice, and yet a gentle look on her face. “What truly matters is what YOU think in your heart, my dear. Do you think she’s still out there somewhere?”

Scaramouche let his mother’s word sink in, though they were sinking slowly, he addressed her last question and let it weave in and out of his mind. With a small huff, and a hint of hope in his demeanor he answered begrudgingly, “I think she’s too damn stubborn to die so easily,”

Mother laughed, and patted her son’s shoulder. She’s amused at the slight resemblance to his father, but also relieved that Scaramouche had found something worth fighting for. 

“Well then, hold on to that tightly and we’ll keep looking,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is she alright?” 

In a rather large bungalow out in the outskirts of Higi Village, Finnian crouched over your limp body, assessing the way your face flushed a dangerous shade of pink, breathing heavy, damp cloth on your forehead.

Finnian was a real village man, large and burly, face covered with a coffee coloured beard and hands calloused with work. In the large bungalow, he lived with his wife Serena: the picture of hardworking. Her ash toned braided hair fraying at places because of the work she had to do for the day. She used to be a doctor back when they still lived inside the main city. Out here, she was but a humble owner of an apple orchard. Together with her husband, they did quite well for themselves, supplying apples to markets and different merchants. 

“I’m not sure, her fever isn’t breaking,” Serena mumbled while covering her mouth in worry. “She’s been out for four days on and off… I… I don’t think she’ll make it at this rate,” Serena was distraught over the thought that someone was about to die under her watch. Her hand instinctively goes towards her belly, thinking that this stress was definitely not good for her pregnancy, but they couldn’t just leave the young lady dying out there in the banks of the river. 

Finnian plants a hand on his wife’s shoulder, and brings her in for a tender kiss on the forehead. “We’ll see, love. You’ve done what you can, alright? It’s all just up to her now…” On the side of the room were the belongings that managed to survive on the rough ride down the river with you, neatly piled atop each other already. 

The day that they found you, they were sure that all they had to do was bury you in a quiet resting place. They had no idea who you were, there was not a lot of clues as to what your identity was. To their surprise, despite the severely broken arm and various bruises on your body, you had held on with a very faint pulse, and that was all it took for the couple to bring you back to their orchard home. Monitoring you as much as they could.

The days passed, and though your body started to repair itself, cuts healing and bruises clearing, mentally, it seemed that you were not ready to awaken yet. There were occasional times where Serena would find you awake, and yet you were so out of it that you had passed out again in the next few seconds. There was not a time where she found you really, consciously awake. 

Serena actually thought that your episodes of waking and staring into nothingness was your way of coming to terms with death, that it was trying to take you, and that you were silently accepting it. But you seemed to keep running away from death, living yet again into another day. 

It was exactly six days after, when your eyes opened and your brain started to connect the dots. You were alone in the room when it happened and your whole being ached. It ached like never before, and you could feel the trauma creep up all around you. 

The first thing you did was cry. 

You cried because everything hurt, cried because dying might have been easier than this, cried because you remembered spots of your memory and how scared you had been. Cried because you could not move a single inch of your muscle without it tearing you into pieces. 

Your sniffling was answered by a loud gasp as Serena entered the room, the shock on her face didn’t disappear as she tried to soothe you. “Shhh… It’s okay, you’re fine,” 

You only cried harder. Being told that everything was fine when it felt like it wasn’t was a sort of crippling relief. You weren’t alone and left for dead, at least, and you knew that you would be forever grateful to whoever this woman was. 

You couldn’t speak, but your sniffles dwindled down and she waited for your tears to lessen before attempting to pull away–you hadn’t noticed that she was rubbing circles on the back of your hand–and when she tried to release your hand, you held on to her tightly instead, fear communicated in your eyes, your head shaking as best as it could from left to right.

She understood immediately.

“It’s okay, I’m just getting you some water, I’ll be back quick,” she promised and you had no choice but to let her go. She came back just as she said, and had a cup in her hands. Serena stared at you for a moment, wondering how she might ask you to sit up and drink some water in your state. Your broken arm was already in a proper sling, but she remembered the bruises on your back and how much those might ache the moment you so much as twitched. 

“Can…Can you sit up?” She held your elbow to support you but you were too scared to even try. Breathing was already hard enough, your chest was tight and the rise and fall of it stung but you had no idea why. You shook your head lightly, your eyelids suddenly getting droopy once again. It dawns on Serena then that you had already exerted all the effort you had for today, and sure enough your eyes close, bringing you back into a peaceful slumber within seconds. 

Serena sighs, a hand on her heart trying to calm the rush of pitter patters against her chest. She didn’t know why, but she had been so panicked to see you awake and coherent. It was a good thing, but your tears were heartbreaking, because she knew that it must have hurt, looking at your condition. 

She gently patted your hand. Even though she didn’t know you, it must have been her new, maternal instincts kicking in. With a baby in her belly, she would’ve hated to think what would happen if her own son or daughter was in the same state, and no one bothered to help.

She was only doing what she hoped other people would do, from the goodness of her heart. 

Seeing that you had no way to drink water, Serena had been dripping it into your mouth by lightly tapping a damp cloth on your lips and occasionally squeezing water into your mouth, if Finnian was around. She settled on sitting down next to the bed and doing the same thing today. The body could survive without food for weeks, but water was another thing. 

Serena was not a particularly religious person, but the state you were in could probably make even the devil kneel in prayer for your recovery. The physical damage was worrying, but Serena was now more worried about the brief desperation in your eyes as you cried:

It’s as if you had wanted it to end instead of fighting it. 

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#the ruthless prince #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche fanfiction #scaramouche royal au #genshin royal au #genshin impact fanfiction #scaramouche angst #scaramouche fluff

[echoing-locations]

Ok so more of prince Ambrosius au cuz I think it’s neat

(Also thank you to @goldenheart-supremacy for all your amazing ideas ❤️❤️🥰)

Now I’m this au I’m thinking that Ambrosius is the type of prince who was constantly sneaking away from his guards and he became so good at it that only one was able to keep tabs on him at all times (that being Ballister)

I would say Ambrosius and his parents have a good relationship, they’re just busy cuz their basically running a country

Ambrosius is a master at manipulating the media, he’s been doing practically since he was born, he nows how to be seen by the media only when he wants to be seen

That didn’t stop the media tho, they were convinced the prince was a open book, Ambrosius’s favourite headline being ‘is the prince secretly married!? His guards tell the story!’

Ambrosius and Ballister laughed their asses off at this considering it took place when they were both 16 and Ballister being Ambrosius’s only guard at the time

Ok now back to some main plot things!! Nimona still finds ballister in the tower and still forcefully becomes his sidekick

Although this time Ballister didn’t have any leads on who messed with his armour, so it took him longer to come out of hiding, but it did give him and Nimona time to get to know each other and build that trust

He would probably be on the run and in hiding for like 2 months at least,

Meanwhile the Director woke up at least a day after she was shot, the queen come to visit her and she goes and a rant about “oh how grateful I am that it was me to get hurt and not you or the prince!”

Another meanwhile, Ambrosius begged his father to let him be involved in the search for Ballister. He told his father “this gives me a chance to show my leadership abilities!” The head knight was then told to report to Ambrosius with anything having to do with the search

What Ambrosius really wanted to say to his father is “look I love this man and I would rather not see him with a sword in his chest or a arrow between his eyes, so please let me be in charge!!”

After a bit ballister decided to sneak into the institute to check the security cameras of the armoury and of course Nimona tagged along

They then find the video of the director taking Ballister’s forearm piece and replacing it with the weapon one, they download it to post later

They don’t leave the institute right away because ballister wants to find his armour pice just to be sure, so they sneak into the director’s office and Bal does find the pice

Then the director walks in, Nimona shifts into Todd (cuz yes) and Ballister ducks under her desk

“Sureblade what are you doing here?” “Well..uuhh— I thought heard some one in here and wanted to uhh um- punch them..?” *continuous looks to ballister👀* “Surebalde what are you looking at?”

After the final look to Ballister is made the real Todd walks in to say he lost the prince again and for a second it’s the Spider-Man pointing meme until Ballister jumps over the desk grabbing Nimona and booking it out the door

After running from the kinghts they both hop the wall to the Institute, thinking it’s the one facing the city, when in reality they just hopped the wall to the castle

(I like to think the castle and institute are right beside each other)

“Oh fuck” “wrong wall 😐”

Ballister knows where they are and knows a way out (Ambrosius wasn’t the only one who knew how to sneak away)

On the way out they run into the Prince in one of the more private gardens in the palace.

Ambrosius stands there in shock for a minute, “Ambrosius I uh- please-” “UHHH BOSS I DON’T THINK WE HAVE TIME FOR CHIT CHAT!!!”

And they don’t palace security is approaching fast.

Ballister runs to Ambrosius to give him a ‘hug’ when in reality it’s to give him the armour piece “please believe me, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I didn’t mea-” “OK BOSS TIME ITS TO SKEDADDLE!! LOVELY MEETING YOU!!!”

And Nimona grabs Ballister and runs

Ok that’s what i got for now, again feel free to add your own little additions and such I’d be happy to read them!!

#ambrosius goldenloin #ballister boldheart #nimona #prince ambrosius au #ballister x ambrosius #text post #royal au #this took me like 3 days to write

[tetsupeach]

All Must Descend

prince bakugou x f!reader

summary - you pass an eventful night in the dungeon as bakugou reckons with what your appearance means for stability at court. sir kirishima shows his hand.

cws - game of thrones au, same tone as the show. murder, violence, political intrigue, smut, magic, old gods, new gods, choking, true love, lore, allusions to torture, prophecy, reader has brown eyes. dom!bakugou. sub!reader.

chapter 1 | chapter 2 - updates on fridays

please have an age in your bio and be 18+ before interacting with this fic. reblogs/comments appreciated, and encouraged.

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Prince Bakugou kicks the dusty path in the garden, frowning so hard that deep caverns are forged in his brow, when Kirishima finds him.

“That bad?” He asks quietly.

“I don’t even recognize her.” Bakugou says in a low growl. “She says it won’t rain until we have the churches blessing, and we can’t get gods grace without Amathar’s heir, without her true power my power is fuckin’ useless apparently.” Kirishima nods. “She just repeats it over and over again, Gods Grace,” he mutters, “It’s every fuckin’ word out of her mouth. Maybe my whole family’s crazy, maybe the stories are true, that every leader who sits on the throne of Yuuei is destined for goddamn madness.”

He kicks the gravel path again, the dust gathering at the bottom of his more court appropriate clothing, simple for a prince, but still obviously made of the finest materials, a pair of dark brown trousers, a loose white shirt and leather boots. There's a ceremonial jeweled sword at his hip that he doesn’t take his hand off of while he paces.

“You aren’t.” Kirishima says fiercely. “I’d stake my life on it. And your power is more than enough, you’re unmatched on the battlefield, even when you’re not wielding holy fire.” Bakugou shrugs off the praise, not meeting his friend’s eyes.

“What does it say that I don’t want to walk around my own fuckin’ castle without bein’ armed,” he looks up at the sky, dappled with diamond twinkling stars. Kirishima sighs.

“Court’s dangerous, right now, but not for you, Bakugou-”

“I’m not worried about me,” he says, pain creeping into his voice like ivy up a wall, “I’m worried about you, about the people I love, and the people,” he gestures to the city, “The people out there. They’re starvin’ and the only thing I can get the Queen to say about it is that when we find Amathar’s bastard things will get better.” Bakugou spits on the ground. “And now I gotta face that girl, from today. My men killed her family. What the fuck am I supposed to say to her about that?”

“All you can do is tell the truth.” Kirishima reaches out and touches his friend's upper arm. “All you can do is tell her you’re sorry, which you are, and that you’ll do what you can for her.”

“How is she?” Bakugou asks and Kirishima thinks again of the sound of your aching dry sobs, bouncing off the walls of the dungeon.

“Afraid.” Kirishima says quietly. “She’s terrified.”

“My mother wants to meet her.” Bakugou says very quietly. “I convinced her to wait until we’d conducted the ritual to see if she’s a descendent of Nahelenia.”

“I talked to her,” Kirishima says, “I don’t think she’s a spy, or anything at all even. She was probably just lashing out at us because she’s afraid.” Bakugou nods, a hand coming to rest over his heart.

“I can still feel the way she was holdin’ onto me as we rode into the city. I can’t,” He presses his lips together, “I can’t, I don’t know what to say to her. Of course she fuckin’ hates me, but I, I feel like I owe it to her to make sure she lives through this.” He looks out across the moonlight garden, white flowers practically growing in the blue light.

“Well, you do.” Kirishima shrugs. “She’s just not making it easy. I’ll take her down to see what might await her, if she doesn’t behave, and that’ll help. But you could always try being,” Kirishima searches for the right words. “Being kind, to her.” Bakugou groans.

“I can’t accommodate her mouth,” He shakes his head, “Or it’ll get her killed. I gotta break her for her own safety.”

“Well and,” Kirishima grins, “As far as problems go, at least she’s one with a pretty face huh?”

“Don’t wanna hear shit about it,” Bakugou starts and Kirishima flashes his palms.

“I’m just saying, maybe once she understands her place here, she’ll be able to show you a little gratitude-” Bakugou swats at his friend. “Bakugou, forgive me, but I’ve never seen a woman ride on your horse.”

“I’m not talkin’ about her.” Bakugou snaps. “I didn’t want her holdin’ your sorry ass at knifepoint again, speakin’ of, if you think we’re not gonna talk about how some peasant girl got the drop on you you’re out of your goddamn mind.” Kirishima blushes.

“I,” he thinks about it, “No there’s not way around it I uh, I underestimated them. None of the women have ever resisted us before. I wonder where she learned to fight.” He pauses, surveying the gardens, attempting to change the subject. “It’s so green here in the palace , it’s easy to forget the troubles of the outside.” Bakugou nods, then an a cloud crosses his face.

“None of the guards touched her?” He asks, and Kirishima nods, teasing smile back on his face.

“She’s not a virgin though, said she’s a widow. Not that you’ve ever shown a preference for virgins, as long as a woman is well behaved.” Bakugou spins on his heels, eyes ablaze with anger and Kirishima flashes his palms, “My king.”

“Yeah that’s right,” The prince snaps, “Remember your goddamn place just in the nick of time.” Kirishima giggles. “S’not funny, you tease me about that shit in front of Queen Mitsuki and she’ll order me to behead you right there.” Kirishima shakes his head, shivering.

“I never speak in front of the Queen.”

“Probably a good move these days.” He stretches a little. “Prophecy said no children, didn’t mention virgin. But uh, I think-”

“Prince Bakugou,” a cool voice breathes, cutting through the silence, Kirishima jumps but Bakugou contains his surprise at being snuck up upon.

“Primogen Tobita.” Bakugou says gruffly, and the older man bows to the Prince and nods to his knight. “Not very priestly of you to be eavesdroppin’.” Kirishima keeps his face neutral, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, but the tall, grey haired man just laughs warmly.

“I’m far too old to be overhearing conversation that isn’t happening right in front of my eyes.” He’s a tall man, though both Bakugou and Kirishima have a few inches on him. His long grey hair is parted down the middle, and despite his claims of age his eyes sparkle with the youth and mischief of a young man. “Though I did hear you had quite an adventure today.” He presses. “I’d love to meet the young woman you liked so much she earned a spot on your saddle.”

“She was trouble.” Bakugou growls. “I needed to keep an eye on her.”

“Well either way, you caught me on my way to the dungeon to pay her a visit.” Bakugou and Kirishima exchange a glance.

“I’ll accompany you.” Kirishima offers. “Someone of your age shouldn’t be wandering the maze of the dungeons, you’ll need an escort.”

“Certainly you’re not worried,” he touches his chest, “About the intentions of a man of the church, who the gods have chosen, are you?”

“I can assure you his only concern was for your safety.” Bakugou says, practically spitting the words. “How fares my mother, Primogen?” The primogen sighs theatrically.

“Overtaken by visions and headaches. Hopefully we’ll find Amathar’s heir soon.” He clasps his hand together. “Perhaps it will be the girl you found today. Excuse me.” He pushes past the group and Bakugou sighs deeply, gesturing to the redhead.

“Follow him.” Kirishima nods, and slips into the darkness. Bakugou re enters the castle, servants scurrying out of his way, determined to see his mother in private. The throne room is filled with the usual lords and ladies, post dinner they’re dancing and drinking to tinkling music, warbling out from a drunken flute player. His mother is in the thick of them, long blond hair braided down her back, cup of wine in her right hand, eyes glassy and far off as she sits on her throne, ignoring the nobles speaking to her. She waves them away at the sight of her son.

“Katuski,” she breathes, reaching for him, “I’ve had the most horrible dream,” he nods, allowing her to hold him close as she stands, leaning heavily against his solid form, “About snakes,” she whispers, “First the wells will dry and then there will be snakes, if we cannot bring peace between our nations. We must find Amathars daughter, please, Katsuki, promise me you won’t stop looking.” He glances around, there are several fountains spitting clear cool water in just the throne room alone, but he couldn’t help but remember how dusty and dry the city had been while riding through it earlier. He nods.

“Of course.”

“And the girl, the girl from today?” She asks, “When can she be tested?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Bakugou replies. “She’s in the dungeon for tonight.” His mother shudders, taking another sip of wine. “I could get you some water?’ He offers gruffly, but she shakes her head, sitting back on the throne, nearly falling asleep immediately.

“I want to meet her.” She says absentmindedly. Bakugou nods again.

“Tomorrow.” He turns abruptly and leaves, not wanting to witness his mother passing out, drunk on her throne.

The moon is high in the night sky when the Primogen makes his way down the steps to the dungeon, moving deep within stone hallways. You’re finally completely dry and asleep against the wall, breathing softly, when the clang of your cell door opening wakes you.

“Hello, there.” Primogen Tobita greets you, and you cower, remembering the Knight’s warnings. He’s tall, about the same height as the prince, with grey hair slicked back from his face, and cool dark eyes. His facial hair is neat, trimmed into a tiny little moustache and just a bit of beard at the end of his chin. His robes are dark and billowing, completely obscuring his silhouette. “No need to be afraid.” He says smoothly. “My name is Primogen Tobita, heretic.” You avert your eyes instinctively. “I understand that you may not want to be disrespectful,” he says, “But I would prefer you look at me.” You lift your head to him, and his breath catches in his throat, your dark eyes clearly visible in the torchlight. “That,” he mutters, to himself, “Is concerning.”

“Sir?” You say quietly, picking the honorific you think is least likely to get you in trouble. You scoot away from him, pressing your back against the stone wall.

“Do you have a name?” You nod. “You have my permission to speak.” He says and you shrug.

“I do have a name.” You answer instinctively and he reaches down and slaps you hard across the face, his rings scratching your skin as stars bloom behind your eyes.

“Try again.” he says, still completely composed.

“F/n.” You choke out, now completely crumpled in the corner. “Please I-” You stop yourself, noticing how he wipes his hand after touching you, your blood on his white handkerchief.

“A follower of the sea goddess.” He mutters. “I should have known, they don’t train their women properly.”

“Do not touch her again.” A voice from behind him makes you both jump, as Kirishima strides into the cell. “You could have just struck royalty, Primogen.” He kneels next to you with a clean rag, dabbing at the blood on your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in your chest.

“I’m simply wondering what kind of witchcraft she used to bewitch the prince!” Primogen Tobita stutters, his pert nose crinkling. “I’ve never seen Prince Bakugou so, distracted, in court today when I suggested she be put to death for threatening your life he was,” he pauses, dramatically resting a hand over his heart, “Beside himself. He’s clearly besotted.”

“Prince Bakugou was troubled by the violence our soldiers demonstrated against the townspeople of her small village.” Kirishima says, an edge to his voice, “He knows this kingdom owes her a debt.” There’s a brief pause as he stands facing the Primogen.

You’re struck again by how large he is, the wide span of his shoulders might at a different angle completely obscure Primogen Tobita from your view.

“Thing is, Sir Shinsou spoke with some of the soldiers, who have been regularly attending the masses you lead for the common people.” He takes a step forward, but Primogen Tobita doesn’t step back, “And they told him that you’ve been encouraging soldiers to grant heretics salvation,” he says, his voice now low and threatening, “At the end of their swords.” Primogen Tobita doesn’t miss a beat.

“Clearly, it was a metaphor.” He says, crossing his arms, “For rebirth in death, in the light of the gods.”

“Clearly,” Kirishima takes another step towards him, and this time the older man has the grace to scoot backwards an inch across the stone floor, “That metaphor cost many lives. I trust you will correct this this weekend at service.” The Primogen swallows. “Or,” Kirishima’s fist closes around the hilt of his sword. “I will correct it, for you.”

“Are you threatening me, Sir Kirishima Eijirou?” Primogen Tobita gathers his robes, performatively scandalized, but the knight just chuckles, a slow grin spreading across his handsome face.

“I am, Primogen. I thought you were educated enough to understand that without explanation.” There’s an awkward pause.

“You forget yourself, Sir Kirishima.” Tobita leans forward. “Aeds good favor, once lost, is difficult to regain.”

“I think me and my sword will do just fine.” At that the Primogen sweeps off in a huff and as soon as his back is turned Kirishima looks back at you.

“Was that smart?” You whisper. “Threatening him?”

“It would take a hundred men to take me alive, and more to kill me.” Kirishima says grimly, inspecting you. “I was gonna do this tomorrow, but I need you to understand what can happen to you if you mouth off to men like him.” You swallow, mouth pressing into a tight line.

“I’m not afraid of death.” You whisper, and he frees one of your wrists, handing you his skein of water. You drink quickly, and he helps you to your feet.

“There are things,” he says, leading you out of the cell, “Worse than death.” He offers you his arm, and you take it, your feet bare on the cool stone. He leads you deeper in the dungeon. “I’m not asking for your cooperation anymore.” He says, as you turn a corner, a note of desperation in his voice. “I’m demanding it.” He pushes open a heavy door before you can respond, and the smell of blood and smoke fills your nose. It’s a torture chamber, odd twisting metal, heavy leather whips, a wheel with leather straps on it, turning slowly over a fire. It’s unoccupied. He lets you step forward, your eyes like saucers as you inspect the space, running your hands over the metal spikes that come away with flakes of red dried blood. “I wouldn’t touch anything.” You nod, withdrawing your hands back into your body, genuine fear returning to you.

“You want to help me?” You ask, your voice soft.

“I’m in your debt.” He says simply, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “No harm should have come to your family.” You swallow nervously.

“I would like to, avoid this.” You step back towards him. “I’ll work on um, my demeanor, I can cooperate, if it keeps me from this room.” He notices your hands trembling, and it tugs at him.

“My lady,” he says, reaching for you, pulling you into his chest and rubbing comforting circles in your back, feeling you tremble. “We will protect you, alright if you just-”

“You shouldn’t be alone with her like this.” The purple haired knight from earlier steps into the room from a side door, sending your heart into a sprint.

“I’m not-” Kirishima sputters, “Shinsou you know I wouldn’t-” He grins, waving away the protests.

“You’re trouble.” Shinsou says, inspecting you with a clinical air. His eyes match his hair, and they flick from your waist to your chest, and then back to Kirishima, without stopping at your face. “You didn’t put her with the others, did you?”

“She didn’t have a group so I locked her up alone in the overnight cell.” Kirishima says defensively. “Bakugou likes her, he wouldn’t want her to-”

“So bring her to his bed,” Shinsou interrupts him. “Or follow orders. You’re too soft on them.” You open your mouth, remember the room you're standing in, and close it. Shinsou breaks into a wide smile, “Oooh did he scare you into submission?” You don’t respond, skin prickling with goosebumps in the cool of the dungeon. “Poor little mouse,” he growls, “First time in a trap?”

“Don’t play with her.” Kirishima pushes himself in front of you, he’s got a few inches on Shinsou, and he squares his shoulders, “She’s not either of ours.”

‘That’s right.” Shinsou counters. “So I’m going to take her up to where the other women were held, rather than the comfortable overnight cell.” He rolls his neck. “Get out of my way.” Kirishima flashes his palms and steps aside, letting Shinsou take you roughly by your upper arm, leading you out of the torture chamber, back the way you came. You try biting them back but you can’t stop the words that flow from your lips,

“If that wasn’t supposed to be where I was being held, then how did that priest find me?” Both men freeze, and turn to you.

“A guard showed him where you were, right?” Kirishima says, “I had to keep my distance, so I didn’t see but,”

“No.” You confirm. “He came alone.” Shinsou laughs darkly.

“Trouble.” He half whispers, half sings. “Shall we check on her cell?” Kirishima nods, and the two men draw their swords. They walk in a defensive formation, Shinsou’s eyes narrowed, Kirishima’s jaw set. He rounds the corner before your cell and you hear the clang of metal against metal. Kirishima’s sword collides with another man’s blade, leaping behind Shinsou, hiding your face in his back. Kirishima quickly disarms the assailant, who is dressed fully in black.

“What is the meaning of this?” Primogen Tobita strolls out of your cell, “Unhand that man, the gods have chosen him for a purpose!’”

“What might that be, Primogen?” Shinsou asks casually, leaning against the stone.

“I had a dream,” he says, gesturing with his jewel encrusted hand, “Nahelenia herself came to me, and said I must speak with that woman,” he points at you, “Alone, that she had a secret to tell.”

“So you sent someone with,” Shinsou glances down at the man on the ground, clutching a dark blade, “A poisoned dagger, to speak with her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The Primogen huffs. “And I’ll speak with the maiden now.” He holds out a hand, but you don’t take it. “Are you going to defy an order of the church?” He purrs, and you look up at Kirishima, asking for help, but it’s Shinsou that comes to your rescue.

“Actually, we’re here to take her to the castle. Royal Order.” His voice is a low gravel. “You may speak with her tomorrow, after the ritual.” The Primogen scowls.

“If Prince Bakugou requires company, there are a number of courtesans-”

“Actually,” Shinsou cuts him off. “It’s the Queen who asked to speak with her.” If the Primogen is surprised, he doesn’t show it, simply bowing deeply. “And if you’re lucky, I won’t tell her what you said about her son, and,” his lips curl into a sneer, “Courtesans.” He turns to you, offering you his arm. You take it, avoiding eye contact with the Primogen and his man. When you get out of the dungeon, into the night, Kirishima lets out a long breath.

“Fuck,” he says, “Holy fucking shit.”

“You're welcome.” Shinsou sheaths his sword, shaking his head at the other Knight. “One of these days you’re going to have to learn how to play politics.” He says to the redhead who looks sheepish, leading you up the stairs out of the dungeon. Shinsou walks behind you, one hand tightly enclosed around your upper arm.

“I just,” Kirishima sighs, “I get nervous, about church stuff.”

“Was that man going to kill me?” you cut in, eyes wide, and the two knights look at you.

“Almost certainly.” Shinsou says, as if it was stupid that you asked. You nod slowly, and Kirishima opens the door, letting you out into the garden. It’s so early in the morning that the sky is lightening in the east.

“Do we need to take her to the Queen?” Kirishima asks, and Shinsou snorts.

“Queen’s passed out drunk. Just get her ready for the ritual.” He stretches a little. “If the church is worried, maybe she’s the one?” Kirishima nods, looking you over again. “You sure you know who your father is?” You consider, teeth closing on your lower lip.

“Fairly sure, Sir.”

“Sir,” Shinsou cackles, repeating you. “Credit where credit is due, Kirishima, seems like you did a good job scaring the girl. Kirishima rolls his eyes.

“Give her here,” He says, and Shinsou releases you, letting you walk, bare feet in the dirt, over to Kirishima. “We’re headed there.” He points to a tower, “It’s important that you don’t speak to anyone who doesn’t speak to you, alright?” You nod emphatically, and Shinsou scrutinizes you.

“She’s gonna get herself executed in less than a week.” He turns his back on the two of you, “Try not to go down with her.” You swallow a bitter taste, your stomach growling, and let Kirishima lead you through another big pair of double doors, through what must be servants' quarters, people are just starting to wake up. He takes you up a back staircase, it’s narrow and rickety, you nearly trip over the hem of your dress a few times, but he just catches you, large hands closing around your waist and lifting your body into an upright position. You’re tired, your head is buzzing, your stomach aching but you can only assume the lack of food has been intentional. He pushes through a door, and there are squeals.

“Kirishima!” A woman with long dark hair, dressed head to toe in white, “Out, out out,”

“I’ve got the next girl, though!” He protests, “And this isn’t your room, it’s just the tower's antechamber.” You step out from behind him and find yourself engulfed in a warm hug. The woman smells like cedar and patchouli. She takes you by the shoulders, ignoring him.

“I heard you had to bathe in the knights quarters,” She shudders, “How positively dreadful.” Kirishima rolls his eyes.

“It was fine. But ah, if you could be nice to her, that would be excellent.” He says, “I’m afraid she’s only seen the worst of Yuuei so far.” The woman nods, still inspecting you.

“So, girl, singular?” She raises her eyebrows. Kirishima presses his lips together, considering.

“Yeah, you know what Momo,” His fist closes around your upper arm hard enough to bruise. “Can you do what you’re gonna do with her bound?” Momo frowns, blinking a few times. Clearly she woke up only a few minutes ago, there’s still the glassy look of dreaming in her dark eyes. You look around, taking in your surroundings while she considers. The room in the tower is light and airy, large windows allow for the shards of sunlight to paint the oak wood floors with warm golden patterns of sunrise. It seems a uniquely feminine space.

"I don't know," Momo looks troubled, "Is she dangerous?"

“I’ll be good,” you interrupt, looking up at him, “Sir.” Kirishima still looks troubled.

“They’re priestesses of Aed,” he explains, turning to you, “They’re not warriors.” He rubs his chin. “You’ll behave?” You nod emphatically and Momo’s dark arching brows knit together.

“What did she do?” She asks, and a grin blooms across Kirishima’s face, he runs his fingers through his coarse red locks.

“Oh, held me at knifepoint, among other things.”

“That’s it!” You squeak, turning around to look at him, “That’s really the only thing I’ve-”

“She’s committed verbal treason and blasphemed about every five minutes, don’t listen to her.” Kirishima says, thinking, but to your surprise, Momo giggles.

“I can understand a little treason. Prince Bakugou is,” a little smile plays on her lips, “He takes some getting used to but he’s a good man.” Kirishima winces, and Momo watches the joy drop from your face as you give a little shake of her head.

“I won’t,” your teeth close on your lower lip. “I don't think-”

“There was an unfortunate incident yesterday.” Kirishima says quietly. “Some of his soldiers burned down her village. Her father is dead.” You bite back your immediate responses, an unfortunate incident, your father wasn’t dead, he was murdered. Murdered. Killed. Taken from you. Momo's shoot open, understanding immediately.

“You’re powerless here,” she says quietly, and the change in her tone takes you by surprise. She inspects you again, your unkempt appearence, the pain she can see deep in your eyes. “You and I have that in common. You’re a smart woman.” You realize it’s one of the first times you haven’t been called a girl, despite being well past your twentieth winter. “I can’t do anything for you. You won’t be able to escape the castle by hurting me, or any of the other priestesses. You know this.” You nod. “No need to bind her.” Momo says smoothly. “Now get out. Men aren’t allowed in our tower, not that the Kingsguard doesn't flaunt our rules at every opportunity.”

Kirishima ducks back through the door way apologetically, waviing a farewell and Momo sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You’re powerless?” You ask, interrupting her annoyance with the Knight. She nods.

“Priestesses of Aed surrender their lives to the god of flame.” She says. “I’ve given up my entire future to be here, to serve him and the old magic of Yuuei.” You swallow. “It means I’ll never have to marry, I can refuse summons to court, I can travel, it comes with a measure of freedom. But no power, politically speaking.” You nod and she leads you further into the tower, into a room lined with fragrant cedar. There’s a tub, she turns a spigot and it starts to fill with water. “I’ll give you some oils and whatnot, you can take a bath in there,” she gestures over her shoulder, “And I’ll give you a ceremonial dress.”

“One powerless person to another, then,” you ask. “What happens after the ceremony, if I’m not royalty?” Momo looks pained.

“Right now the women are being held in the tower after we determine that they aren’t King Amathar’s daughter. I understand you spent the night in our overnight cell, it’s not um,” she opens a door, “The tower is a touch less comfortable. But not so bad!” You nod and she opens a cabinet, handing you a glass bottle. You unscrew the lid, it smells of freesia and lavender. “Clean yourself to the best of your ability and then some of the priestesses of Aed will be by to style your hair. She leaves then, closing the door behind her, you hear it lock.

You wiggle out of the dress Kirishima gave you and step into the warm water, luxuriating in it. The bath is soft and pleasant, and lying in the warm water is the most comfortable you’ve been in days. You clean yourself until the water gets tepid. Then you cover your body with your hands and knock of the door.

The rest of the preistesses, Jirou and Mina, wrap a clean linen dress around your body and work a comb through your tangled hair, styling it and braiding flowers that you recognize from the garden on the grounds into the braids. The flowers themselves smell soapy and clean and between that and the bath you imagine you must be thoroughly perfumed. The preistesses speak around you for the most part, talking about court gossip, about a few vassals who were late on their taxes, a few wives cheating on their husbands, a few mistresses, what the newest clothing trends were.

“What about you,” Mina asks cheerfully, and it takes you a second to realize that she’s speaking to you. “Did you have a sweetheart, or lover, in your village?” You clear your throat.

“I’m a widow.” You say quietly, and her kind dark eyes fill with concern. “It’s ah, it’s alright.” You say quickly. “I didn’t love him. But, I,” you sigh, “I’ve never been in love, I suppose.”

“Why did you marry him, then?” Mina chirps, and Jirou looks at her reproachfully. “What, arranged marriages aren’t common among peasants, no offense.” You swallow, flashing back to your wedding, the white dress in the drafty chapel, to the smell of ale on your husbands breath.

“It was an uncommon situation. But yes, it was pre arranged.”

“Maybe you’ll come out of this ritual engaged to Prince Bakugou!” Mina says, with a little laugh. You shudder and there’s an awkward silence. “That’s not so bad,” Mina protests and Jirou speaks for the first time.

“She’s going to end up in the tower, Mina, so if you could not-”

“What’s so bad, about the tower?” You ask, more sharply than you mean to.

“It’s just crowded.” Jirou says quickly. “We’re not supposed to talk about it. And,” She looks at Mina, “We’re not supposed to talk to the women at all.” Mina sighs.

“I’m bored, though, this is boring.”

“Can I ask,” you try to capitalize on this silence, “Can I ask how women become preistesses in Yuuei?”

“Women in Yuuei can’t refuse an engagement.” Jirou explains. “But we can choose the church over marriage.” She adjusts a flower in your hair. “It wouldn’t be an option for you, regardless of the outcome of the ritual, because you arent a citizen.” You nod, and

Jirou helps you into a deep red dress, that dips between your breasts. When you see yourself, in the ceremonial gown, in a crown of red roses and white gardenias, in front of the first mirror you’ve ever seen, you hardly recognize yourself. You bare only a passing resemblance to the girl whos face looked back at you from her pail of well water just a scant few days ago. There’s a soft knock at the doors.

“Oi.” They hear, and scramble get up, “Lemme talk to her.”

“Prince Bakugou,” Momo cries loudly, striding in from another room at the sound of the Prince’s irate voice, “Men aren’t supposed-”

“Really?” He cuts her off, raising his voice. “When my mother dies, I’ll be king. You don’t say no to me.” She blanches, and unlocks the door. He pushes it open and then does a double take. There’s something about the life of the flowers in your hair that matches the expression on your face, his heart beats in a strange new rhythm. “Get out.” He says and the women scatter, darting deeper into the set of rooms. “Kirishima told me an attempt was made on your life.” You shrug.

“Yes, sir.” It’s a pity he’s an oaf, you decide, because Prince Bakugou Katsuki is decidedly handsome, cutting a sharp silhouette, an elegant profile. A pity, that he was cruel, a pity, then, that he was stupid. You eye the sword at his hip, wishing you could drive it into his ribs. “I came to see,” he looks frustrated, dressed in simple clean clothes, hair parted to one side. “I came to make sure you were alright.”

“You feel badly for me.” You move towards him, slowly, trying not to ruin the complex hairstyle and perfectly laid gown. The prince rubs his eyes, the sun is directly behind you in the window, it hurts to look at you too long.

“I feel responsible for you.” He says, shading his red brown eyes with his hand, blinking the the brilliance of the sun. You sigh deeply.

“You know, in the books, Princes have honor.” Your mouth sets in a hard line. “They’re chivalrous, they care for their people.” He looks away. “What are you doing, for the people of your country, out there?” He shrugs, brows knitting together.

“I’m doing what I can. The fuck is it to you?” Annoyance colors his response. You shrug.

“I’d like to know what kind of man I’m at the mercy of,” you say softly. He reaches for you and you instinctively flinch just before his hand brushes your jaw. He traces the outline of a bruise from where you’d been shoved onto the ground the day before.

“I'm not the kind of man who hits a woman unless he's really gotta. I don't do that shit cause I'm angry, or for fun. Don't flinch away from me, and I won't give you a reason to be afraid of me.” He orders and you do your best, trembling under his touch, remembering that his men had said he was descended from a god. “Kiri really scared the shit outta ya, huh?” He rumbles and you turn your head to meet his gaze, realizing how close his face is to yours. He takes the end of your chin, tipping your face up towards his.

“What’s going to happen to me?” You whisper.

“I can’t tell you anything about today.” He holds your gaze.

"What about after?" You breathe, and in the golden light of the early morning you are so breathtakingly beautiful that all words fly from his mind, he opens his mouth to respond and no words come out.

“Excuse me,” It’s Momo, peeking her head back in, saving him. “You have to take her down in a few minutes, and so help me Aed, Prince Bakugou if you’ve undone our careful work-”

“Calm down,” The prince rolls his eyes. “She’s fine”

“I’m, um, I'm sorry,” you chirp, and both of them look at you, “Wait I’m, I apologize, what do I call you? Not sir?” He smirks.

“Your highness, your grace, your majesty,” he shrugs, “Pick. My full title’s pretty long, you’ll hear it when we get down there.” You take his hand and he impulsively pulls you into his body. Standing like that, pressed up against him, it’s a reminder of how physically intimidating he is. You can feel the muscles on his chest through his shirt, and you get the sense that once he’s wrapped a thick, tanned arm around your waist that you wouldn’t possess the strength to free yourself. He crushes a few of the flowers in your hair with his rough movements and Momo scowls.

“Enough manhandling her.” Momo says, shooing him away.

“No,” He turns to Momo angrily, “I'll do what I want with her, she belongs to me-”

“I belong to you?” You retort instinctually, “You think you’re entitled to my body, because your men murdered my family-” You stop yourself, realizing that everyone is staring at you, that Momo looks terrified, that Bakugou looks aghast. “Y-your grace.” You finish, looking down at your hands as he releases you.

“I told you,” and the pain cuts through his bravado, tipping the tone of his pitch higher, “I feel fuckin' awful,” he takes a shuddering breath clearly steadying himself. “It wasn’t on my orders, but it was on my watch so I, I'm sorry.” He mutters. “I won’t be able to make it up to you.” There’s a pause. “Momo stop shakin' like that, I’m not gonna cut ‘er fuckin’ head off in front of ya.” She lets out a long breath and he watches your bravery dissolve into fear.

“Sorry, I,” you bow your head. “I’m sorry, your grace, I just, it’s been difficult, and I'm sorry.” The tears that you’ve been fighting for days prick at your eyes and you wipe them away, “I’m sorry,” you say again. “I'm just alone now, and I'm afraid.” You lift your eyes to him, the last word comes out like more of a whispered plea than an apology. “You can, you can have whatever you want, obviously,” you babble, “You’re royalty, you can take-” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, scowling and speaking sharply, in a timbre you recognize as a direct order.

“You gotta keep your mouth shut or it’ll get you killed. I'm bein' patient because I owe ya one. But anyone else at this castle woulda seen you whipped for talkin' to them like that, and bein' common.” You bow your head and he softens. “We’ll head down if uh,” Momo hands you a handkerchief and you dab at your eyes.

“Thanks.” He offers you his hand for a second time and you take it. This time he gives you your space, letting the gown drag behind you as you both walk down the stairs from the priestesses tower into the main body of the castle. There’s a few minutes of silence.

“Why did you let me on your horse?” You ask, the curiosity burning away at you. He doesn't look at you. “You could have thrown me on the wagon with the things you,” you stop yourself from saying stole, “Acquired.” He lets out a heavy breath.

“I didn’t want any of the soldiers to touch you. I needed to make it clear that you were mine. Or they would have taken you when I wasn’t around.”

"Taken me?" You start, and that gets his attention, the honest surprise in your voice.

"You uh," He takes in your face, reading the genuine surprise. "You ever get out of that village before this?" You shake your head.

"Not often. But I, I'm always shocked by the cruelty humanity is capable of. No matter how many times the fates try and teach me, I never learn." He nods at this, understanding.

"Well, I had ta let 'em know you were mine."

“I’m yours?” You repeat, voice echoing down an empty hallway. The castle is nearly deserted but for a few servants. You can hear what sounds like a large gathering of people ahead of you. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I decided when you held a knife up to my best friend's throat.” He clears his throat. “So when the ritual today is over, you’ll be mine. The other women in the tower will stumble their way back to what’s left of their villages when we find the descendent of Amathar, which we will eventually or my mother will die and I can abandon this useless crusade. But s’not like you have a home to go back to.” He watches pain well in your eyes and kicks himself.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “It hurts, to think about, having nowhere,” the pitch of your voice rises, “Nowhere to go back to.” You stop walking, and lean against the stone wall, closing your eyes. It’s cool against your back.

“No I,” he searches for words, for a phrase, some kind of incantation meant to soothe, but he doesn’t have access to such things, it’s an unwieldy weapon he’s not trained in yet, heavy in clumsy hands. Instead he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead. One of his large hands rests on your waist, rubbing a comforting pattern. He can feel your pulse racing beneath your skin. “It won’t be too bad, bein’ here.” He says in his low rasp, and it might be his imagination but you seem to soften at his touch.

“What’s gonna happen when I go in there, your grace?” He starts to lead you down the hallway again and you follow. He looks away from you before speaking again. 

“When nothin’ happens, they’ll be some kinda uproar, they’ll take ya to the tower with the others, and I’ll come getcha.” He glances at your trembling hands. “What, marauders in your village no problem, but a little fake ass magic bullshit and you're scared?”

“I was willing to die,” you explain, “To free the others from you, but for myself, now I think I’d like to live, if that’s an option.” He chuckles, catching you as you stumble on the hem of your gown.

“Well don’t try anything that stupid here and you just might live to see winter.” He pulls you through a door into a large main passageway in the castle. The hallway has vaulted ceilings and it’s lit by torches. There are detailed tapestries hanging on the wall, and it must be well ventilated, because you can smell the sweet summer air, the fresh cut grass of the lawn. Your feet are still bare against against the sweet hay scattered on the grey stone. Bakugou’s footsteps echo here, his sword hanging at his hip. He puts one hand on a heavy wooden door, carved with the insignia of his house, a knight carrying a torch. “Don’t say anything.” He growls and you nod. In one fluid movement he opens the door. You jump a mile when trumpets blare, and someone calls loudly.

“Crown Prince Bakugou Katsuki, born under the shattered star, Son of Queen Mitsuki, The Unkneeling, The Great Phoenix, The Dragon Knight, The Lightbringer, your lips twitch as you fight off a smirk at the sheer length of his titles, and he squeezes your hand, a warning. “And F/n L/n, from the village of Damona.” There are chuckles, but you barely hear them. The throne room is huge, arching ceilings hundreds of feet in the air, candles burning, flickering gold and yellow off of the grey stone and the jewels of the gathered courtiers, making every shadow in the room dance. 

The throne itself is carved from the mountain's stone, glittering cool grey. The queen is the spitting image of her son, blonde hair threatening to burst loose from her long braid, in a deep red dress, adorned with gold and silver. The crown on her head is heavy and gleaming, with fiery rubies that catch the low light of the flames. The kingdom of Yuuei’s house symbols were everywhere, the knight is on banners and hangings, embroidered onto dresses, woven into the carpet that serves as a pathway to an altar at the center of the great hall. It’s nubby on your bare feet. You can read their house words on a banner over her perch. House Bakugou, From The Ashes, we rise.

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#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader

[nitewrighter]

Cindy Part 12

As always, for previous chapters, please refer to the masterpost.

Posting this because the epilogue got too honkin’ big!! Have some ‘Meet the Parents!’ 

---

Cinderella’s arrival at the castle is very quiet. Like, mostly, everyone is aware how volatile a situation like, “Hey whoever fits this shoe is going to marry the prince” is. So it’s like… 4 gardeners, 3 maids, and the butler see an absolutely filthy girl sleepily slump out of the royal carriage with the prince supporting her in her descent, and they carry about their business. If there’s an announcement, they’ll hear about it later. This is just a perfectly normal instance of some weirdly dirty rando showing up the castle in the company of the captain of the royal guard, the royal valet, and an almost-equally dirty footman who is certainly not the prince in disguise, no sir! Still, a royal messenger is discreetly sent to the king and queen, and they both hurry to the foyer just in time to catch the prince and the supposed shoe-fitter quietly trying to make their way through. In their company is, of course, Gabe the Valet and Guard Captain Brad.

“Chaz?” The queen calls out.

Both the prince and Cindy look up.

“Oh—Mom, Dad, this is Cindy. Cindy, these are my parents.”

“Hi,” Cinderella gives a small wave, “I mean—” she’s been a little thrown off by the whole ‘these are my parents’ thing and remembers this is the literal fucking king and queen and she quickly curtsies, “Your majesties.” She stands up straight again and brushes her hands down her skirts, sending a dusting of ash onto the palace floor. “I—um—“ she stuffs her hand into a fold in her skirts—oh it’s a pocket—and pulls out the slipper, “I have the shoe. The other shoe.”

“Ah,” the queen blinks and she gives a glance over towards the king, who like, he’s not upset, but you can definitely kind of hear the laptop fans whirring on him seeing this girl. Like… Is that a rat? On her head?

“Darling,” the queen places a hand the king’s shoulder, “Do say something.”  

“Right—” the word stumbles out of the king, “So… the shoe fits then?”

“The shoe fits,” the Prince says.

“Here—I can—” Cindy slings an arm around the prince’s shoulders as she stubs her heel out of the shoe and puts the slipper on again, once again extending her leg, though this time it’s less of a toe-pointed ‘ta-daaaa’ gesture and more of a foot-flexed can-can kick.

“I… see,” the King says slowly.

“You can try it on other feet if you need to,” Cindy pipes up.

“Seeing as the other shoe…” Gabe starts and isn’t really sure how to finish that sentence.

“You know what?” The queen clasps her hands together in front of herself, “I know this whole slipper search has been an ordeal, so we’ll have some apartments made up for—for our most distinguished guest, and you can tell us all about it once you’re a bit more…settled.”

“Just so, Dearest,” the King agrees, desperately thankful for an opportunity to compose himself a bit more but now eying the old-as-balls dog sitting on its haunches just behind Cindy.

“You will have my report on the events that transpired surrounding the shoe, sire,” Gabe dutifully places his hand over his heart.

“And my debriefing as well, your majesties,” Brad bows from the hips.

“Good—good…” the king says blankly.

—-

So that night, both the king and the queen are in bed, and the king is wearing a fancy, kingly little nightcap and the queen is reading in bed next to him.

“I’m glad he found her,” the king says firmly, as if trying just as hard to convince himself as he is the queen.

“Mm-hmm,” the Queen turns a page.

“And she seems very nice and it’s clear he’s quite taken with her and—and you know him! He’s odd! He’s picky!”

“Mm-hmm,” the queen nods.

“But the state of them both—”

“Darling, they hardly looked any worse than we did when we first met,” the queen glances up from her book to lovingly brush her thumb over his sideburns.

“Well that was different! When we met, they were asking me which finger I would prefer they cut off to send to my parents, and that was—” he catches himself, “My god, you don’t think he found her in such a state?”

The queen thinks for a few moments. “No… no, I don’t think so. But there is a lot we don’t know about the situation.”

“I know, I know—there’s the reports and the debriefs—and I’ll be doing my own research as well.”

“Oh I know you will. That’s where Chaz gets it, you know,” the queen kisses the king on the temple.

“Mm,” the king responds.

“That’s an ‘I’m turning off the light’ kiss,” says the queen, turning off the lamp next to the bed.

“Mm,” the king murmurs again.

There’s the soft settling of pillows and sheets as the queen snuggles in for the night.

“…the rats are a bit of a hard-sell,” the king says after a few long beats.

“The rats are a little weird,” the queen concedes.

——

“I don’t think they like me.”

It’s late in the afternoon and early in the evening the next day. Cinderella is fidgeting with her fingers as she and the prince are walking through the garden. She’s wearing one of her nicer Frankenstein gowns, still too nervous to take any of the beautiful dresses in the wardrobe within her apartments. The prince just watched her plant the hazelnut she took from her family estate in a bare, quiet patch of the royal gardens.

“They��ll like you! They will! Just… things need a bit more time to get settled, that’s all,” the prince is holding Chauncey’s leash. This dog is old as balls so they’re both stuck walking very, very slowly, “Everything came together so fast…” he trails off briefly. “And.. I have a lot of questions, but I don’t know how to ask them, and I don’t know if asking them will undo everything—”

“What do you mean ‘Undo everything?’”

“Well… there’s the shoe. I know the shoe isn’t a normal shoe because I wanted to have glassmakers create a hundred replicas of it to expedite the shoe-fitting process but they couldn’t come up with any consistent measurements or fittings and—”

Cinderella pressed a single finger to his lips then, quieting him.

“It’s not a normal shoe,” she confirms, “But… I’m not really in a position to tell you more about it. All I can tell you is that the shoes, the dress, the carriage, everything, were lended to me by a very dear friend, and I had to give them back at midnight. And I’m not in a position to discuss this friend’s identity or resources—only that… they were acting out of a kindness that… is very rare in the world, and even if they’re a little snippy, they mean the best. Do you understand that?”

Her finger still pressed to his lips, the prince nods.

“But also, like you, I’m scared of kicking a hornet’s nest I can’t really see, so… I’m just going to take the good. And you’re the good. And I just hope I’m the good, too.” She withdraws her finger from his lips.

“You are,” he says quietly. He glances off for a second. "I—look, I should say this—about the ‘intended bride’ thing…” they pause under the willow near the reflecting pool that the prince threw himself into a few days earlier. There’s a little bench there and Chauncey takes the opportunity of this slight pause to lower his bad dog hips to the ground and lay down. “I—” the prince glances down and looks at her, “You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to do the thing. The marriage thing,” the prince offers a hand to Cindy so that she can sit down on the stone bench beneath the willow, “I mean, you can if you want, but I know it’s a lot. I know they’re a lot. And I know I’m a lot. And—“

“You’re not a lot.”

“I’m not?”

“You know, you seemed a lot more cocky at the ball.”

“I was a jerk at the ball. Everyone was… pulling out all the stops for me, doing all this stuff, and it wasn’t even about me, it was about their families! Their livelihoods! But all I could think about was how uncomfortable I was and…”

“Well you’re not livestock!” Cindy throws her hands up.

“I mean, yeah but—“ the prince’s jaw tenses, “Just… it was nice that there was someone who… didn’t see me as… that? For just a little while? But that’s not how things are, and it’s not fair to pull you into things just because I like you—I mean, I really like you—but it seems like you care about lots of things so—”

“I’m not the same person you thought I was at the ball either!” Cindy blurts out, “I do care, I do, I’m just… I’m scared, all the time. I’m horribly, awfully scared that everything’s going to collapse on me at every second, and I cry a frankly unreasonable amount, and—and—the only reason why I acted the way I did was… I figured everyone would forget about me… Like they’ve always done.” She blinks a few times and it kind of hits her that she actually hadn’t thought that much about the impact she would have on people after the ball—that her initial concern was about being recognized.

“How could anyone ever forget you?” The question comes out of the prince, incredulous, as he bends to look at her. Literally every staff member or guest at the ball remembered her for some good deed or kind word or the impossible speed with which she could scarf down celeriac tarte tatin. He’s almost looking for an indicator that that was a joke, but he studies Cindy’s face for a few seconds and he realizes that no, it’s not a joke. His eyes flick downward. “Cindy?” He says, not making eye contact.

“Yes?”

“Everything I’ve gone through these past few days to find you has been… the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done in my life. And I know that’s stupid—I know it’s nothing because you and everyone else is working so hard all the time while I’ve been off… fucking reading! Or horseback riding! Why am I better with horses than people? They’re the most fucking paranoid animals on the planet!”

“It’s not nothing—” Cindy starts.

“But I’d do it all over and over and over again a thousand times over or however many times it takes if it meant making sure you have a home with people who love you and value you.” The prince has been bent over the bench, but now his back is starting to hurt, so he drops down to one knee to maintain eye contact with her.

“Is.. is that here?” Cinderella’s voice is brittle.

“If you want it to be,” the prince glances off, “This… was also supposed to be a conversation where I give you an out. In case.. I don’t know… you have way cooler things going on. There’s so much I still don’t know about you, so much I want to ask but I’m… honestly scared to ask.”

“I know,” Cindy interlaces her fingers in her lap, “But… I don’t know how much I can tell you about it right now without sounding completely mad or without making things very complicated for the friend who helped me. But as soon as I can—if I can—I will. I promise. And—and I don’t have anything cooler going on. I do want to stay here. Very much so.”

“I mean, of course you could still stay at the palace—like… just… as an advisor. I can deal with it. I can be cool about it. I swear. But like, I mean as far as official titled jobs go, I think… you’re.. really… well… qualified for um. For the whole ‘princess consort’ thing?”

“So you’re giving me an out but this is also… a proposal…” Cindy says slowly.

“Well, yeah if you want to get really intense about it—” the prince huffs a little then realizes he’s on one knee, “I mean… Yes. Yes it is.”

Cindy snorts hard.

The prince presses his lips together. “I mean there are people out there— I can see that now—I… I can be with people, and I can be okay—”

“Prince—” Cindy starts.

“And I know that sounds stupid and completely removed and selfish of me, but… you’re the person who really made me see that. I mean, also people made me see that because that’s the whole point—”

“Prince…” Cindy starts, a bit more softly and affectionately this time.

“And I really do like all your ideas! I really think we can hammer some stuff out that can make things so much better for—”

“Prince!” Cindy suddenly cups his face in her hands.

“Yes?” His cheeks are a little smushed with the gesture.

“I get it,” Cindy smiles.

“Oh. Good. That’s good,” says the prince. A pause passes. “Is this a ‘Yes?’”

“Yeah, it’s a yes.”

The prince’s hand comes up and clasps around one of hers, still on his cheek, holding it tight to him. He squints his eyes shut for a few moments, just feeling the warmth of it. He seems to catch himself and his eyes flick open,

“In case it wasn’t already abundantly clear, I’m not nearly as cool as I was at the ball,” the Prince is staring into her eyes.

“Neither am I,” she says before kissing him.

——

The king has been poring over numerous documents pertaining to the estate where the prince’s soot-covered partner emerged from as the queen looks out the window with a chilled glass of white wine in her hand. She’s watching the whole ‘whoops-it’s-a-proposal’ unfold in the garden below, and like—this is really nice wine that you do want to take your time with (Is it new? When did they get wine this nice??)—but she does take a slightly larger gulp at seeing her precious baby boy who is just as deranged as his father get down on one knee to a girl who was covered in soot and rats just yesterday. Like, yes, she knows she and the king had their own very unique situation, but it’s like, there’s you, and then there’s your kid, you know? You want things to be better for your kid and you don’t really know what this whole deal is yet so she’s counting on the King’s nerd ass to figure this mess out.

She glances back at the King who is still flipping through different documents at his desk alongside Gabe.

“Well?” The word comes out of the queen a bit thick. It’s not clear if the king heard her. “Darling?” She turns away from the window.

“Mm?” The king blinks several times as if breaking out of a trance.

“What were you able to find?” The queen clarifies.

“Oh…” and the king seems to get distant for a few seconds, “Do you remember a Lord Ashcroft?”

The queen thinks for a second. “Oh!” She says after a beat, “It’s been a very long time but—yes. Charming fellow. Hammered out some amazing textiles deal with the east a long while back, didn’t he?”

“Yes! And we sent him that bottle of port when his daughter was born!” The king perks up with the memory.

“Oh yes—such an adorable, chubby little girl—and of course Chaz was fussing and miserable throughout the whole christening—” the queen’s face drops, “Oh god—don’t tell me that’s—”

“It’s… her,” and that distant look settles back on the king’s face.

“But surely she would have been announced at the ball!” The queen briskly approaches the king’s desk, “Her father—”

“Died,” the word comes out of the king as a flinch, “When she was 12. Only a few months after he remarried.”

Something dark flickers over the queen’s face and the King blurts out, “Appendicitis! Appendicitis! The doctors ruled it as appendicitis! And grief, probably? Heart and gut.. couldn’t take it…”

“Grief,” the queen repeats, unconvinced.

“Dearest—”

“I know—I know…” the queen lets out a shaking exhale and then does this calming, pincer-like gesture with her fingers with another steadying breath, “Just… instincts and cultural differences…”

“I know,” the king touches her arm.

“So this… remarriage…” the queen starts hesitantly.

“Well… on paper it seems respectable enough—but then there’s fact that they didn’t even pay for an obituary—for Lord Ashcroft! I would say that’s a bit suspect. And I had Gabe look into some expense records registered for that estate with the local merchants and bankers… all these heirlooms sold immediately after his death compared to the actual costs of the funeral… I suppose we all grieve in our own way, and its difficult keeping the things of a lost loved one around after they’ve gone but one would think they’d at least keep the some of the objects on here for his daughter’s sake—”

“But as a young girl, she wouldn’t have a say in it,” the queen’s voice is brittle.

“Not with the stepmother being the acting executor of the estate…” the king rubs his brow, “Granted, there’s still a lot we don’t know."

“Chaz said the poor girl was locked in a basement. I don’t think we need to extend a lot of the benefit of the doubt here, darling,” the queen’s voice is terrifyingly icy.

“There were murmurings at the ball about that family as well…” the king muses.

“I need to talk to her,” the queen says firmly, “This situation requires a woman’s touch.”

The king kind of gives her a look then.

“What?”

“Are you saying ‘This requires a woman’s touch’ as in you’re going to kill someone or—”

“No! No, of course not! Probably not!”

“Probably—?”

“I can be sensitive! I’m sensitive!”

“Of course, dearest.”

——

Cinderella’s been at the palace for a few days now. Honestly between the tour of the grounds and the ins and outs of her own proper quartering and getting to know the staff, it’s all been a bit of a blur.

“You can come in, dear,” the Queen is squeezing some lemon into her own tea before leaning back in her seat.

Cindy edges into the room. She’s been scrubbed head to toe and has been laced into maybe the first new, not-made-by-herself, not-made-of-magic dress she’s ever worn since she was 12.

“…would you like to sit down?”

Cinderella shuffles over to the couch and sits down a bit stiffly.

“Here,” the queen pours another cup of tea, “Sugar? Cream? Lemon? Honey?”

Cinderella’s eyes flick across the tea set like it’s a bomb she needs to defuse.

“No wrong answers,” the queen settles back into her seat.

Cinderella gingerly spoons a little bit of honey into her tea and the smallest  splash of cream. The queen watches her hands, the scuffs on the knuckles, the brittle nails clipped to the quick, before Cinderella raises the teacup to her mouth and sips.

“It’s delicious, thank you.”

“Mm,” the queen nods, and there’s a few beats of silence.

“It’s… it’s an honor to be here,” Cinderella says, forcing herself to make eye-contact, “I—I promise I’ll learn everything I can to be a good princess consort. I’ll read more, and—um—I know I’ve been throwing the servants off, but I really am used to making my own bed! It’s not because I don’t think they can do it, it’s just… I’ll figure things out. I promise. I—“

“It’s all right. Breathe, dear,” The queen is refilling her own teacup, squeezing more lemon. “Do you know the story of how the King and I married?”

And Cinderella blanches for a second like ‘Oh shit I didn’t know there was going to be a quiz.’ She really doesn’t know how the king and the queen came together. She’s read what she could, and she’s decently smart because her stepsisters would sometimes make her do the homework that their tutor gave them and she would be forced to learn what they hadn’t been bothered to paid attention to in one fourth of the time, but these were mostly subjects tailored to the running of a house and the cultural refinement of a lady, like etiquette, poetry, a little bit of law, and some arithmetic with a focus on finance and expenses. History and science? Not so much. But the queen is just swirling her tea in its cup, not quite looking at her.

“The royal historians downplayed a lot of the… ugliness that came before it,” the queen says, and Cindy eases up in her seat a bit thinking ‘oh thank god it was a rhetorical question.’

“You see…” the Queen gently sets her teacup and saucer down on the table and primly folds her hands in her lap, “The country I grew up in—that is, technically, it wasn’t quite a country as I was growing up—but it was… oh, how to put this politely? A flaming death pit full of murderous power-hungry petty tyrants all with delusions of grandeur and no care as to how many soldier and peasant lives they needed to ruin or end to gain one more acre of land.”

Cinderella blinks at that, and doesn’t really know how to respond to it so she just sips her tea while maintaining eye contact.

“I grew up the daughter of one of these petty tyrants, then as a political hostage, to secure my father’s alliance with a neighboring lord,” the queen’s gaze has trailed to the window, now, “And then my father and brothers were killed, in one of many stupid, pointless battles, for this bridge or that mountain pass or some other such nonsense…From there I saw two clear paths laid out for me: Either my foster-lord would have me killed so he could snatch up my father’s lands, or, more likely and far less pleasant, he’d marry me to one of his brutish sons who were at least twice my age to, again, secure my father’s lands. I was lucky enough to have a handful of retainers from my father’s house to help smuggle me back to my own family estate where I could regroup and see of my own forces and resources but…” she sighed, “From there…It all kind of blurs, to be honest. A part of me became just as merciless as everyone I fought against, but at the same time I hated them so much, so I hated me so much—I couldn’t bear the thought of just… becoming one more of them. And looking among the people that were my responsibility to protect…” she trailed off, “I wanted a better life for me. For them. For all of us. But I didn’t know what that looked like. I was terribly stubborn about the idea of marriage, you understand. I imagined myself having some… passionate torrid affair with some battle-scarred Samson, and then naming whatever bastard came of that my heir to continue the fight when I inevitably died in one more stupid battle for this bridge or that mountain pass.”

Cinderella is kind of thrown off by the bastard thing, like ‘You can do that? That’s allowed?’ But then Cindy has the reasonable assumption that probably no one told the queen she couldn’t do that, and if she had done it, no one would really try to tell her after the fact.

"But then I met the king,” the queen goes on, “He was just a prince himself, then. The poor fool was traveling through our lands as part of some… diplomatic mission when he was captured by one of my remaining enemies. I didn’t even know he was in that keep, I was just… there to take down one more scourge. And I took them out right before I found him.” Her eyes get a little distant then. “I must have looked monstrous the first time he saw me…” she’s quiet for a few beats, then she seems to catch herself and she smiles a little, "Once I found out who he was, I more or less bullied him into our match. I was of high enough birth, after all. I thought he was so agreeable because he was afraid. But… I soon came to learn that there are many different kinds of bravery. Which… brings me to my point, dear,” the queen leans forward from her own seat, “Between what I saw of the king, and what I saw of my own people… I know what it means to have to be brave far longer than anyone should have to be. Something happens in the eyes…” the queen extends a hand and Cinderella unconsciously shrinks back in her own seat. Cindy’s mouth opens to apologize on reflex, but the queen is drawing her own hand back, fingers curling in. “What… I want to tell you is that… we want this place to be a home for you. I know what it feels like when your home… isn’t your home. When what remains of your family—” she catches herself again. “I’m sorry. I’m overstepping. This all must be so much on its own—“

“It’s— it’s fine—“ Cinderella is still tense in her seat, “It’s—it wasn’t nearly as bad as you think it is—I—I was never in a war—”

“It doesn’t have to be a war,” the queen says gently.

“Well, yes, but my stepsisters calling me stupid and ugly and saying I smelled bad all the time isn’t a war—”

“They called you stupid and ugly and told you that you smelled bad all the time?”

“But I did smell bad because I was cleaning out the chicken coops or the stable, or shoveling from the compost heap, or hauling laundry around, or because I had smoke pouring over me from the hearth and I got ugly muscles in my legs from going up and down the stairs all day—”

“They were making you do all that and they weren’t helping?”

“But that isn’t a war!”

“But you’re afraid of them,” the queen says softly and Cinderella flinches at the word ‘afraid.’ “Even now, even here, you’re afraid they can still make you hurt like all the times they hurt you before.”

“I—I—” CInderella stammers.

“Am I scaring you now?” The queen asks, not accusing, but genuinely concerned.

Cinderella’s knuckles are white around the handle of her little teacup. She’s gone deer-in-the-headlights again.

“It’s so hard to turn off…” the queen says softly, and Cindy isn’t sure if she’s talking to her or to herself. “And when you can turn it off you just feel so silly for thinking that way, but then something happens and it comes back all the worse…”

Cinderella’s half-come out of what would be called ‘tharn’ in Watership Down enough to sip her tea a little bit. The teacup rattles a bit in its saucer as she sets it down.

The queen gestures at the little tiered cookie trays. “Um… macaron?”

Cindy takes one and munches it down in barely a bite and a half, eager for the gap in conversation chewing affords her.

The queen huffs and slumps back in her seat. “Chaz was right about you. One really does feel like they can tell you anything and you don’t know if you’ve made a fool of yourself until after you’ve said it.”

“Is that… good?” Cinderella is picking up her teacup again.

“I think it’s good,” the queen says, taking a cookie herself and taking a bite out of it, “People are cynical, you know. It means a lot to inspire that kind of confidence. You managed to make quite the impression on a number of the palace staff the first night you came here.”

“Because I crashed the party…”

“Because you were kind. And helping seemed to be your first instinct about, well, anything. So this is what I’m saying—with regard to.. your previous living conditions, regardless of the abuse put upon you, there is only a limited degree to which the crown can respond. But I can assure you we will find every means we can to—”

“I don’t want to punish them,” Cindy blurts out, tense in her seat.

The queen’s gaze flicks up to her.

“What they did to me…” Cindy starts, but then stops and glances off, “I don’t think hurting them further than how they already are will help. I don’t know what will help them. But all I know is that I don’t want them anywhere near me. And I don’t think they need to hurt to know that.”

“…exile, then?” The queen munches a macaron and Cindy blanches.

“No,” Cinderella says quietly, “That doesn’t feel right either.”

“Well… we have a whole library and dozens of legal experts at your disposal, dear,” the queen smiles, “I trust you to be a far more merciful person than I’ve ever been.”

Cindy stills in her seat, full deer-in-the-headlights mode.

“…that’s good,” the queen says, reaching forward and putting a hand on Cinderella’s knee.

“Oh!” Cinderella eases up, “Th-thank you.”

And so, over the next few days and with much discussion with many royal lawyers, the first restraining order was invented. Granted, if you look up legal history as we know it, the modern restraining order popped up in like, the 1970’s, which is… really fucked up and you’d think it would pop up sooner. But also people are terrible so it makes sense that it would take that long. But we’ll just assume this was kind of like the whole ‘sometimes people act like Don Quijote was the first novel and not Lady Murasaki’s Tale of the Genji just because Don Quijote saw wider distribution,” and also an instance where something was so unusual for its time we wouldn’t really see its implementation until a long-ass time later situation. And also I made up the country they’re all in so fuck it. They invented restraining orders. Which is what Cindy deserves.

Oh god. like, I would hate being in the presence of the stepfam in any situation, but what I wouldn’t give to be in the room when the royal messenger shows up at the stepmother’s doorstep. Like the stepmother would totally think she’s receiving a ‘guest of honor’ invitation for the royal wedding despite the Prince’s absolutely harrowing look at her, and she’s like ‘Finally that little rat of a girl is proving herself useful.’ And there’s the royal messenger on the doorstep like, “Good afternoon ma’am, I have the distinct honor of issuing to you this royal decree that you and your daughters are not to come within 800 paces of the Princess Consort-to-be. As well as this fruit basket.” (The palace had never issued a restraining order before and as such wasn’t really sure the proper means of delivering it, and the fruit basket was Cindy’s idea so that they might ‘part on good terms.’ Cindy’s never issued a restraining order before either, and she also has a very inflated opinion of the power of gifts and fine food, so go easy on her.)

“…I suppose… the seating for the wedding will accommodate?” The stepmother says a bit blankly.

“Oh—Madam, unfortunately, I have no invitation for this household. But! You will observe that this fruit basket does indeed have a pineapple! So let that be a symbol of the crown extending all the hospitality it can extend in line with this decree.”

“Ah. Yes. A… a pineapple,” the stepmother says, blinking several times.

“Oh, yes, and also this sack of gold to cover any additional medical expenses with regard to the…” the palace messenger clears his throat, “Toe incident.” The messenger unceremoniously plops a roughly coconut-sized sack of gold onto the fruit basket. “Ladies,” he says, tipping his hat before leaving.

The stepmother snatches the gold sack up right quick but then she and the stepsisters are stuck staring at this pineapple for three days in utter befuddlement. Both the pineapple and the gold are enough to take their minds off of the increasingly large groups of starlings gathering in the hazel tree on the side of the house… for a while at least.

#love at first sight exists #but only in the sense that I consider that part of skyrim where you watch farkas turn into a werewolf 'love at first sight' #POV: You've been taken captive and you watch the hunter from Bloodborne carve a bloody path through your captors #like how can your brain NOT go 'wife' in that context??? #what I'm saying is... Queen--it is fine he was absolutely INTO IT #cinderella #'also we've just tanked your entire social future but here's a pineapple byeeeeee' #Common sense: Hey you know you probably could make the epilogue one big chapter if you left out the queen's backstory #me: NO FUCK YOU I'M KEEPING IT

[esther-dot]

Lately I've been toying with the idea that Jon will indeed become king of the FF. It's the only reasonable ending for him, the only one that matches both Jon's show ending and Sansa's book foreshadowing (to marry a king, not a prince, not a king who had been). I think the show ending on such ambiguous (and bitter!) terms for Jon was decided because of the sequel. In other words, I'm considering the possibility that M. will transfer his 5year gap at the end, and we'll see them again at the end after some time will have lapsed and they'll be older and firmly in their positions. But, with this ending I'm afraid we'll only get hints of Jon and Sansa's romance on page, and nothing too explicit (although I guess that it might have a role in Daeny's death).

I think that, throughout the book, the famous "the FF don't kneel" is only meant to be subverted: they will kneel to Jon, after everything he has done for them, and he will probably settle them in the Gift(s). In my opinion, this ending is truly poetic. If ASoIaF is a fairytale, then the hidden prince does not become king because of his inheritance (which he has already foresaken just as he will reject the Targaryen inheritance: so vividly given as "I don't want it!" in the show, lol), but has forged a kingdom for himself, because he is truly worth it. I am not sure that he will go to the Wall because he will be punished, but regardless, he will become king of the FF. If it will be like this, then Jon's ending is the apotheosis of subversions.

And only as an equal will he be able to marry Sansa: when Sansa becomes queen, everybody will want her for her claim twice over, unless her husband is already king. I think this ending is foreshadowed in her ASOS, Sansa IV chapter: two castles in the sky, one black, one grey, become one in all the colors of spring. Note that this is something Sansa sees in the morning sky, meaning after dawn.

And with this explanation I've made peace with the disastrously ambiguous ending of GoT.

I wish you'll make your peace too, Esther!

(old anon btw, anxiously waiting for your posts for years, and now this darn thing made take a name. So be it).

It's so nice to finally "meet" you @justleaves!

I like that reading of book foreshadowing and the mess GoT gave us. You know I can't agree with most of the fandom that we can entirely or even mostly dismiss the show's ending. Too much of it gave me that, "it was always meant to be this way" feeling and since the ending of the show, Jonsas have turned up a lot of foreshadowing for Arya sailing away, King Bran, Dark Dany, Jaime and Cersei dying together...so many things were kinda-sorta right, just presented so horribly they felt wrong!

I've always felt very weird about Jon becoming King of the FF, most of us Jonsas reject that out of hand because it really rubs us the wrong way, but I had a series of anons critical of Martin's handling of aspects of Dany's POV some time ago, particularly how he characterized the Dothraki, and I did go back to read/re-watch some interviews, and I've accepted he doesn't share our sensibilities there, or on a handful of other issues. I hadn't even realized I was projecting when I dismissed the possibility of a kid from a different culture becoming the leader of an indigenous group. To me that is inherently negative. But of course, at the time when Martin began all this, it wasn't generally perceived that way, and we have Mance so...

Right after GoT ended some of us speculated that not including the Gift was why they had Jon ride off past the Wall with the FF, while in the books, he might be responsible for the Gift, so I really like how you've blended the two. I've written before about how it would make sense to me that Jon rejects the Stark/Northern claim and then rejects the Targaryen/Southern claim, and is rewarded in he end for those decisions, and I think it would be a more satisfying resolution to the bastard struggle if he is chosen as a leader because of who he is rather than who his "father" is (whether we mean Ned's son -> KitN or Rhaegar's son -> Targ heir). The way Jon is of the North, has such connections to the Starks (whether as Ned's bastard or Lyanna's boy post parentage reveal) as well as his time with the FF, the understanding he has and care he has for them which others do not, well, it certainly sets him up as a great bridge between the cultures. A person uniquely capable of creating a lasting peace.

I also really like your idea of the time-lapse because a) Sansa's age b) allowing all these revelations time to settle. I can't rationalize how the cast of characters would accept Jon as the legitimized son of Ned, only to turn around and accept that actually he's Lyanna's son, and how they'd be ok with a Jonsa marriage immediately thereafter. And that's not even dealing with how he'll be perceived/the rumors that will be swirling around him post rez and whatever his actions are immediately after. Love it in fics, but when I think about it in Martin's words, hard for me to imagine, so the idea that in a few years after Jon has established himself they'd be able to marry, that makes sense to me.

I think this ending is foreshadowed in her ASOS, Sansa IV chapter: two castles in the sky, one black, one grey, become one in all the colors of spring. Note that this is something Sansa sees in the morning sky, meaning after dawn.

That is a beautiful reading of the scene! I can easily see that being the idea! The other reading I've seen on this is that it's the Jon and Sansa competing claims being joined as the solution to the Northern succession crisis (that may be @agentrouka-blog's spec? I'm not successfully turning anything up atm). I had actually written into the margins in my copy "sounds like Winterfell" by the line about a castle in ruins, and later in ASOS, we have back to back Jon and Sansa chapters that talk about Winterfell and have a weird number of similarities (link). But, specifically, the ruins/rebuilding idea seems like it points to Jon and Sansa's stories converging and allowing them to restore Winterfell together:

The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell's muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins. (Jon XII, ASOS) The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. Some things were hard to remember, but most came back to her easily, as if she had been there only yesterday. The Library Tower, with the steep stonework stair twisting about its exterior. The gatehouse, two huge bulwarks, the arched gate between them, crenellations all along the top . . . (Sansa VII, ASOS)

So as always, I see the pros, I see the cons, I can't make up my mind, but I'm ok with that. I have no problem talking about GoT/my frustrations when I get an ask, but after I wrote my post canon fic Free, I just...wasn't angry anymore. D&D's choices will always baffle me, I'm disappointed we don't have TWOW yet, but I enjoy the different spec, fics, gifs, and art we have in the Jonsa fandom, so as long as we're all having fun, I'm happy.

I'd love to read any other observations you have about ASOIAF and fairytales, I think posts about parallels with other lit are fascinating!

#jonsa #jon's ending #dot chat #< for filtering

[arealphrooblem]

Terms of Surrender Part 2

synopsis: The queen of a doomed city makes the deal her husband refused to make with the conquering warlord outside her city's gates.

TW: mentions of suicide (the husband)

Words flew up to her lips and died, leaving them in strangely awkward silence.

“Shall we sit?” the warlord offered, gesturing at a pair of couches off to the side.

She nodded stiffly and followed him. Her hands began to shake and she gripped the silk cushion to hide it.

“My condolences for your husband,” he began. “I am disappointed that I won’t meet him on the battlefield tomorrow.”

His accent rolled musically of his tongue.

“My husband threw himself from the castle tower,” she told him, unable to keep the bitterness at bay. “There are no condolences needed.”

His face hardened. “Indeed. A coward’s way out. And he left you holding the reigns of a doomed city.”

She swallowed down the bile of despair. “Six weeks ago you had offered terms for a peaceful surrender. I have hope that we can revisit them.”

“You mean the terms your husband sent back with the heads of my diplomats.”

She winced. “What my husband did was cruel and stupid. He made reckless decisions with an arrogance that refused to consult anyone. Whatever his faults were, my people do not deserve to pay for them. They don’t understand war or politics, they are just trying to live their lives.”

The warlord looked at her, face passive and unmoved. She mustered up the last dregs of her pride and courage and looks him dead in the eye.

“You terms were generous. He was a fool to throw them away. I am not a fool. Would you please allow me and my city to reconsider them?”

Again that stare — somehow both blank and penetrating. The look of a man used to being underestimated and using that to his advantage. She could relate. It was dangerous to let your face show your true intentions. She leveled him with her own blank and penetrating stare.

You are his equal she reminded herself. Though her husband had tried his hardest to make her feel inferior, she never forgot that she had grown up in the palace, the only child of the emperor, and he had not.

“And what authority do you have to negotiate?” he asked finally, gently. As if afraid of disappointing her.

Pride surged in her, made her chin jut up defiantly. “I didn’t marry into the royal family — that was my husband. I am the last king’s only heir, not him. If anyone should have had authority over this city, it should have been me.”

His eyebrows rose at this new information. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

The hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. The lantern light glints in his dark eyes.

“Your city is the jewel of this continent. I used to dream about it at night. I am not conquering it for the sheer challenge of it, or to sate my bloodlust. I want to expand it’s potential. I offered your husband my terms because I do not want to rule over rubble and the broken spirit of your people. And so, I will grant your request.”

Hope fluttered in her chest, so fragile that it frightened her. But there nonetheless.

“You will?”

“Unlike your husband, I keep my word.”

Relief sapped her of all strength, her knees like jelly. She found herself slipping off the couch and onto the carpet, a pose of supplication, to thank God or the warlord she didn’t know. All she knew was the feeling of hope expanding painfully in her chest. Of Relief that made her want to sob.

“Thank you,” she whispers to the floor.

A hand reaches out and tips her chin up.

“You have too much dignity for this. Stand up.”

The hand flipped over, palm outstretched, and she took it. He lifted her effortlessly to her feet. Standing so close, she was surprised at his stature. Her husband had towered over her, tall and gaunt like a whip. The warlord stands only a few inches taller than her, his build lean but powerful, a heft to him that her husband never had.

“Do you even know what will happen to you?” he asked her, head cocking to the side.

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me,” she replied dismissively.

He looked contemplative at that.

If he wasn’t a fool — and he wasn’t — the warlord would execute her quickly and quietly after cementing his hold on the city. She could inspire too much loyalty to be left to her own devices, or held as a prisoner. The queen accepted such an outcome — it was not personal. Just the rules of succession. All she needed was a death quick and dignified, which she trusted him to give her.

“I will give your city two days to evacuate anyone who wants to leave. They will have safe passage so long as they do not attack. Your army must stay within the walls and give up their weapons. They will either join my ranks or imprisoned until execution. After a term of imprisonment, where I will judge and sort them, your court may join them. As for you . . . Stay away from the tower roof.”

That tiny twitch of a smile again.

“I will follow your terms,” she promised.

“I know. My spies will make sure you do. But I will say, for the sake of posterity, breaking my terms will result in the complete annihilation of your people. Make sure they understand that. Any idiot who wants to make themselves a hero is one thing. But an organized effort is another. You will not have my mercy a third time.”

She swallowed, suddenly dry mouthed. “I understand.”

The warlord led her to the entrance, where three guards and the general waited.

“My general will escort you back,” said the warlord, as the general stepped forward. “He’s very interested in finding the way you escaped.”

The secret of the tunnels was a fair price to pay, but she mourned it all the same.

He gave her one last heavy look. “I will see you in two days’ time.”

Part 3 Here

tagging: @cesspitoflove and @aprilraine

#my writing #not a prompt #hero x villain #heroine x villain #queen x warlord #fantasy/historical setting

[thatblondebitvh]

Fae Prince Draco & Healer Hermione

When Hermione found out her application for a Healer position at the Fae Royal Court was accepted, she thought it was a joke. In fact, she didn’t even reply until a second letter arrived—a silver envelope with an emerald seal that dissolved into thin air after she read it.

Apparently, the Fae King and Queen were so desperate to save their son from the curse tormenting the Prince that they didn’t mind a human working for them anymore. She was an outsider her whole life, and she doubted the Faerie Court would be much of a difference.

Besides, she wanted to help the Crown Prince—she wanted to be the one to break the curse for him. Not because she believed he would fall in love with her or that it would give her a happy ending worthy of a fairytale.  

No. She just wanted to do something good.

And there she was. Brought to the Wiltshire Castle by the largest carriage she has ever seen—so large it fit a bed, a round table for two and a small wardrobe. 

It seemed ridiculous and completely unnecessary for someone like her, but it also felt nice. She felt important. perhaps for the first time in her life.

The castle itself was magnificent, built of equal parts of stone and glass shimmering brightly even at night. The four towers looming above were each equipped with large clocks that told the time in each Fae realm: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

She has never seen a place like that and she doubted she ever would again. 

 “Miss Granger,” a soft voice beamed from behind, and when she turned around she suddenly faced to face with Queen Narcissa. “Welcome to Wiltshire.”

Before Hermione could reply curtsy, the Queen gently shoved her inside, into a small, plain room that seemed so out of place for a castle like this that she thought it to be a servant’s room. 

“My son will be here soon. You are aware of his condition, are you not?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said quietly. “If I could see the records the other Healers kept before we begin—” 

“I’m afraid there won’t be much to show you,” the Queen smiled sadly. “The previous Healers didn’t stay with us long enough to leave enough notes.”

She swallowed hard. She knew exactly what Narcissa meant by saying they didn’t stay. 

“That’s—”

“—dumb?” 

“Unfortunate,” Hermione offered with a grimace. “I was hoping they left some valuable research for me to read through if I can be honest.”

“Honesty is much appreciated here. But you will soon realise, Miss Granger, that Fae are extremely… arrogant and impatient, despite our long life span,” she said, her lips melting into a scowl. “They never took the curse seriously. And they all paid for that with their lives.”

Before she managed to come up with a response, a quiet knock interrupted her conversation with the Queen.

She knew who was on the other side from the way Narcissa smiled. It was a warm, loving smile, reserved for family only. 

This was it. 

She was going to meet the Prince.

“Come in,” the Queen said. “We’re ready.” 

The door opened with a loud creak and Hermione could swear her heart skipped a beat when the Fae Prince entered the room. 

He barely looked at her before his eyes immediately drifted back to his mother.  But she got an eyeful of him. 

To say he was handsome would be an understatement of the century. He was beyond handsome—beautiful would be a better word to describe him, and yet it still wouldn’t do him justice. Otherworldly beautiful. 

He was tall and lean, with chiselled muscles covering every inch of his body.

And he moved with such smoothness Hermione thought each step of his was an invitation to dance, gracious and elegant and flirtatious all at once. No immortal could achieve that, Hermione realised, not even with a lifetime of training.

The silk silver shirt with a high collar he wore clung to his chest, the fabric moving as his muscles flexed underneath.

She was gaping. She was most definitely, undeniably gaping at him. 

“Mother,” he greeted the Queen with a half-smile tugging at his pale lips. “Another one?” 

Narcissa sighed. “This is Miss Granger, my dear. She is—” 

“A human?” 

“A Healer.”

The Prince threw a quick glance her way, one that lasted less than a heartbeat, as if she wasn’t worth more of his attention. He stalked closer, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his forehead, glorious boredom painted all over his face. 

It was obvious he didn’t want her here. Luckily, she was used to being unwelcome. 

“Get on with it, then,” he drawled, leaning closer, though still keeping a respectful distance from her. “I have important matters to attend to.” 

“What matters, dear?” He ignored his mother, staring down at her instead. 

Was he talking to her before?  She quirked a brow, waiting for an explanation that never came. “Get on with what, exactly?” 

The Prince released an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. It began to curl at the ends, as though he forgot to cut it recently. Or as if he didn’t care.

“Well, you’re here to touch me, or maybe even kiss me, because for some reason my Mother is convinced you are my soulmate and can therefore break the terrible curse,” he said casually, inspecting his impeccable nails and the rings on his fingers. “Are you not?”

Hermione, with barely contained disguise, threw the Queen a nasty look, one she could probably hang for, and quickly returned her attention to the Prince. 

A wicked smirk spread across his face, his silver eyes dancing with mischief. “So, what is going to be? Do you want to kiss a Fae Prince, human?”

She rose to her feet, holding his repugnant gaze. She didn’t blame him for the loathing, not if that was how mother was trying to save him. 

“I can assure you, princeling,” Hermione seethed, “I have no intention of kissing you. I am here to heal you.”

The corners of his mouth twitched when she called him a princeling, and he slid his hands into the pockets of his black pants. “Interesting,” he purred. Silver petals fell off his snow-white hair, melting on his skin as if they were snow. “I’ll give you a week.” 

“A week?”

Narcissa clicked her tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous, my dear—” 

But the Prince wasn’t listening anymore, already storming out of the room. “You have a week to convince me that you can help me,” he winked at her, looking over his shoulder. “After that, I’ll kiss you myself, human.”

#dramione #draco x hermione #Draco Malfoy #drabble #Dramione fanfic #fae draco malfoy #prince draco malfoy #healer hermione granger

[the-sky-the-stars-the-sea]

So I’m again on my Once Upon A Time rewatch and I just finished watching season 4, and y’all, this season is sooooo chaotic. And so freaking funny.

Like:

Introducing Frozen but no one in Storybrooke knows anything about Frozen

Elsa almosts kills Emma in the ice castle and instantly feels bad about it

RUMPLE AND BELLE HAVE A BEAUTY AND THE BEAST MOMENT AND IT’S BEAUTIFUL

trying to find the author of a magical storybook

“I knew there was a good reason why you kept me locked in there for all those years, waiting for the time you needed me most.”

Regina puts Sydney back in the mirror

Anna meets Charming who has long hair

“I’m not bossy, I’m the queen.”

Basically any time Kristoff and Elsa are on screen together

The Snow Queen and Elsa coexisting AND ARE RELATED

Sooo many moments that are references to the original Frozen movie scattered throughout the Arendelle plot making it feel like one big inside joke that we are let it on

“You’re the mayor now.” “I am?”

“STOP SAYING LETTERS”

The stunned silence at Mary Margaret finally losing it

“Can I have ice cream, Mommy? REGINA let me get ice cream.”

Will Scarlet. Just. Will Scarlet.

“You seem like a decent sheriff. I trust you’re not the sort to shoot a man in the back.” “What…?” *starts running*

“TWO sheriffs?? That’s just bloody unfair.”

Belle frantically calling Emma because a drunk man passed out in her library and she has absolutely no context and is definitely freaked out by it

“I may be a thief, but I’m not a liar. Let me show you.” *immediately starts trying to break in* *fails to break in* *EMMA BREAKS IN INSTEAD* “Neal taught me a few things.”

ANNA BESTS RUMPLESTILTSKIN WHEN SO MANY OTHERS FAILED

The character arc of Hook’s left hand

Emma finding her parents waiting eagerly for her to return home + Mary Margaret who wants to hear EVERYTHING about Emma’s first date vs David who thinks that some details are okay to be left out

Mary Margaret finding Will Scarlet and thinking that David set it all up and Will being So Confused

“I’m the sheriff’s wife.” “You’re married to the blonde?” “No that’s my daughter. I’m married to the other one.” “What now?”

“So…the sheriff’s wife can pardon me?” “I’m also the mayor-” “He did it.”

“I’m an idiot.” “Finally, something we can agree on.”

“Regina, I was hoping we could talk.” “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about to storm an evil ice cream truck.”

“It’s bad enough that I’m stuck with you and Captain Guyliner making eyes at each other.” “We don’t make eyes.” “Ready love? 😃”

“Have I ever told you the story of how I met Marian?” “Only about 3 dozen times.” *starts recounting the story* “3 dozen and one.” *tell the story together*

“My whole life I have stuck to my code of honor.” “So why are you here…?” “Today is not one of those days.”

Mary Margaret telling Regina to button her shirt before she goes to check on Henry

“Wow you royals REALLY go through exhausting lengths to ignore your issues.”

Frozen Hans in the closet

“I think it’ll be easier to break into the library now since I’m not drunk and taking punches!” *Robin opens door with ease* *points to sign* “Open till ten.” “Well that’s generous.”

“Guess what! You’re my oldest friend!” *rips Hook’s heart out*

“Now it’s Elsa trying to find her sister that’s screwing us all!!” “…Coming from you that’s terrifying.”

“Kristoff!” “David!” “You cut your hair!” “So did you!”

Ingrid convincing Emma to stay in the foster home instead of running away by encouraging her to terrorize a kid with rubber spiders

THE SPELL OF SHATTERED SIGHT

…The spell of Shattered Sight, and all Snow and Charming do is roast each other

“I AM NOT HAPPY!! 😡😡😡”

“Sealed in My Own Vault?! UGH!!” *looks at outfit* “what the hell am I wearing??” -> the evil queen is back!!

“Emma, you’re prickly, but I don’t hate you.” “…I’m prickly??”

I’m sorry but Regina just has THE most comical face when she realizes Emma is coming, and any time she’s acting like the evil queen in this episode, all of it is just over the top and such a caricature and comical and I can’t take it

Poor Anna trying to make everyone feel love

*sing song-ish voice* “Snow White is a murderer. I killed the evil queen’s mother. And I said I was sorry when I wasn’t.” …Snow??? What???

“YOU said you could keep a secret!!” “I! Was!! TEN!!!!!!!”

Basically all of Snow’s and Regina’s sword fight

Plus David watching uselessly (except for when he teams up with Snow briefly to disarm Regina)

Henry making Hook trip on marbles when he enters the mayor’s office

Will wants another go at Hook, charges, misses, Hook knocks him into the wall, Will crumbles

Anna: *hits Kristoff over the head* *reads note* “*gasp* Kristoff! Do you have any idea what this is?! *pause* Oh, right, I knocked you out. *moves closer* wake up! We have to take this to Elsa. *kisses him* I love you! You’re amazing! …You’re unconscious. *gets up* I’ll be right back, okay? Stay there! I mean I know you’ll stay here but I’ll be back anyway!!”

Ingrid sacrificing herself and the music going on in the background at that point OH MY GOSH

WHEN THE SPELL IS UNDONE THEY LAUGH AND THEY HUG AND IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL 😭😭

*very confused* “…what am I wearing?”

Regina, David, and Mary Margaret laughing, like,, authentically laughing, like so much that it almost looks to me like they’re Lana and Josh and Ginnifer just having fun, and they’re all falling over laughing too, and it’s almost a blooper reel

“I’m sorry I tried to kill you.” “With a cross bow! You tried to kill me with a crossbow!”

“The door to Arendelle must be around here. It’s just a matter of finding it.” *magic broomstick finds it instantly* *silence* “…there it is.”

Maleficent, Ursula, and Cruella DeVil’s first entrance like wowie that is cool and ahhhh they look so good

BELLE STANDING UP FOR HERSELF AND COMMANDING RUMPLESTILTSKIN TO GET OUT OF STORYBROOKE LIKE YEAH THAT WAS PAINFUL BUT HOOO ALSO WELL DESERVED AND IT WAS DEFINITELY BOUND TO HAPPEN AT SOME POINT

They just. Released Chernabog. From the hat. Freaking Chernabog was just. In the hat.

Regina and Emma’s phone call with Ursula and Cruella

*Chernabog turns to Maleficent* “I knew it.”

“I hope you choke on my bones.” THAT IS SUCH A RAW LINE WHAT THE HECK ASFJJJGJDS

“The Chernabog was looking for the heart with the greatest potential for darkness…but it was not looking for Regina. It was after Emma Swan.” AHHHH CHILLSSSSSS

“If you say a word about this to anyone, especially Emma, you won’t have to worry about Regina. I’ll rip out your hearts myself.” …SNOW??? WHAT??? DUDE??? HUH???

Snow finding out she and Maleficent will both be mothers and she’s straight up like “nah, I don’t wanna work with you. I won’t darken myself by associating with you.” And Maleficient is like “you…wouldn’t want to make a better world for our children…just because you don’t like me??”

Regina crushing the glass after taking the shot as if it was a heart, like. What. Regina how did that prove you are villain it just proves you have a strong grip (you’re lucky you were wearing gloves or else your hand would be pretty messed up)

“First one to save us loses.”

Basically Regina is trying to join a gang

“I said we needed to meet covertly! You brought the whole Charming Softball Team and their pirate mascot??”

*Regina without warning possesses Mary Margaret to communicate where she is and what she’s doing*

Robin Hood stealing a horse in New York

Actually right before that as the camera is panning into the scene you can hear someone shout “I’m walkin’ here! I’M WALKIN’ ‘ERE!”

…I don’t even wanna get into the Zelena is Marian plot because that’s a really icky part of the plot

Ariel: *sees Hook* *immediately slaps him*

The Apprentice putting Isaac in the book without warning

Pinocchio being turned back into August

August being wood and then being a person again but then his nose grows

“We have a lot of questions.” “I bet you do.” *brings down curtain ONTO A WOUNDED MAN and runs away*

It looks like Cruella is going to get a heartbreaking traumatic backstory to show why she is how she is…but really she’s just a bad person

Emma and Regina go on a road trip

The wolf making them crash, giving everyone watching déjà vu to season one (including Emma)

“You know me from the diner, right? Smile and hold my hand and walk around the block for a little bit and you get free burgers for a week.”

*teen Emma is depressed on the bench waiting for a bus* Lily: “heyyyyy 😁😁”

The Apprentice thinking it’s just Okay to sit next to a teen girl and address her by a name she didn’t tell you. Like. My guy. I know YOU mean no harm but you REALLY gotta think about what it looks like to HER

Lily’s conspiracy board

Lily steals Emma’s bug -> Emma grabs a wrench, smashes a car window, and steals a car

Regina looking freaked out when Emma starts talking like she herself would

Regina holding on for dear life when Emma is angrily chasing Lily

*spreads arms out* “go on. Kill me. Put me out of my misery. Put an end to this.”

“There have been many authors, from the first cave painter […] to a man named Walt.” *1966* “Our last author…he passed away recently.”

Rumplestiltskin almost dying (again) (you know, just his seasonal near death experience even though he’s immortal)

Seeing Isaac write “Once upon a time…”

THE LAST TWO EPISODES OH MY GOSH I COULD WRITE A WHOLE POST JUST ABOUT THE CHAOS OF EPISODES 4x22 AND 4x23

Henry standing up to Isaac

Rumplestiltskin the light one.

RUMPLESTILTSKIN THE LIGHT ONE.

“This does not come with a price!” THAT FREAKING BROKE ME

EVIL SNOW

Charming saying “I will always find you” but it sounds Wrong

The dwarves do in fact whistle…but it is Unsettling

Regina is the outlaw with a bow and arrow instead of Snow White…and she’s aiming at Henry

“My name is Henry. I’m your son.”

Regina and Robin’s meet cute that is just like the first time they met and AHHHHH I LOVE IT

Zelena is Robin’s … fiancée

Episode 22 ending with Emma locked in the tower

HOOK BEING A TIMID LITTLE MAN

Henry breaking into the castle using a Star Wars reference

“Why isn’t it rum?” “Rum? I’m allergic to that stuff.” “Of course you are.”

Hook is jealous of himself AGAIN

“Now you’re down to six. Would you like to make it five?”

Regina and Emma meeting again

“What does your heart say? I know what my heart says. But what if his doesn’t say the same thing?” “Isn’t that a risk you’re willing to take?”

Emma confronting her parents with such a brilliant speech and amazing expression…but if you watch in the background you see Hook holding the sword above his head, pointy end going being him, gritting his teeth, bouncing forward and backward, trying to look brave but actually just looks like a scared doofus (in the most endearing way)

Hook sacrifices himself for Emma

They all go to crash a wedding

REGINA SACRIFICES HERSELF FOR HENRY EVEN WITHOUT FULLY KNOWING WHAT HE MEANS TO HER

Henry becoming the author

Hook scaring Emma because he’s not where they left him

Henry breaks the Author’s pen

Rumplestiltskin isn’t doing so hot

Belle storms into the shop yelling at Rumple but is immediately concerned when he falls to the ground

The Darkness overtaking the Apprentice

Regina is about to be taken by the darkness

Emma becomes the Dark One.

I’m pretty sure I’m missing a few things too.

Anyways, like said, this season is chaotic as HECK.

#once upon a time #ouat #ouat s4 #i love this show

[hotxcheeto]

━ 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐄

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Vi  x Fem!Princess!Magic!Reader 

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, mentions of a skinned knee

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - Here is part four after over a month of waiting! hope you enjoy lovelies!

𝗔𝗨 - Royalty !

☼ ROYALTY MASTERLIST ☼ | | REBLOGS ARE EXTREMELY APPRECIATED

"Are you sure this looks good?" You showed her your short dress that she'd gotten just for today, doing a little twirl for her.

Vi smiled and ushered for you to walk over to her, running up into her arms. Hands resting just above your butt.

"You look amazing." "Thank you again, for taking me." She smiled and pressed a little kiss to your forehead. "M'glad you wanna meet them." "Well they're your family, I want them to like me." Vi caressed your hips, staring at your face while you looked off and out the window.

"Do you think they'll like me? What if they don't?" "They will, especially my sister. She's gonna love you." You played with her hair as you thought, moving it from her greyish blue eyes, staring into them with worry. "Really?" Vi nodded. "Really. She's already excited."

You smiled at this, backing up and doing a bit of an excited jump.

"Then let's go! C'mon!" You grabbed her hand and dragged her up from the bed hurrying her to the door. "We have to be careful though, momster is lurking around here."

She laughed at this, watching you cautiously open the door before running out.

"Hurry up!" "Alright, alright!" She followed after you as you happily ran down the large hall to the back stairs. The stairs only the staff of the castle used, and they had already figured out about your secret guest who'd come through there with you once in a while.

If anything, they enjoyed watching you run around while the Queen had not clue. She wasn't exactly the nicest to them, or anyone for that fact.

You both ran out into the courtyard, taking off towards the little gate on the side and running down the hill the castle sat on.

"You've gotta learn to slow down princess, you're gonna give me a heart attack." She grabbed you by the waist, spinning you around while you laughed. "Vi! Pu–put me down!" You cried. "You're gonna ruin my dress!" "Or make it better." She kissed your cheek as you were set back down in the grass, intertwining your hand with hers.

"C'mon, it's getting late!" You could hear the sounds of the music from the town square, the lights illuminating everyone down below as the sun set blow the horizon.

"Alright, alright princess. No need to rush it." "I'm excited!"

Vi couldn't stop staring at you as you walked down below, entering the little path that opened up into the village. Houses in the area covered the the layers of trees that hid most of that.

You entered a brick street, people going back and forth past you. No one paying any mind as you both walked hand in hand down the road.

You couldn't believe it, entering the lit up square, fairy lights strung everywhere from the festival just a few days prior.

People were dancing around a man playing music, others talking and holding things they'd bought. Sharing tips and memories back and forth.

Children laughing and playing little games with each other as you walked past.

"Welcome to the normal life princess." You glanced around, stepping a bit closer to her.

Everyone seemed to natural, laughing and talking without a care in the world who was watching. Swinging their dance partners around or throwing their rocks as far as possible only to race to get them.

"Is this her?" You heard a voice come from behind you, turning around to see a girl with long blue braids and a grin on her face. "Yeah, Y/n this is Ji–" She threw you into a hug, wrapped her arms around you and squeezing. "Name's Jinx! It's a pleasure to meet ya!" "Y/n." You smiled as she pulled away.

"You look so cool!" She took reached up to your hair and touched it, letting it run over her hand before grabbing your face. "You're so pretty! Vi was right. My sister usually has terrible taste in, like, everything." You looked over to a blushing Vi, avoiding your eyes as a few others walked over.

"I'm Mylo, this is Claggor."

You reached out and shook his hand.

Mylo taking it and kissing the back, with a smile. "It's amazing to meet a princess." "You as well."

"It's a pleasure to meet you princess." Claggor bowed as you smiled. "You're very sweet, but no need to be so formal."

"Did you hear that Mylo she said I was sweet!" He whispered while Vi rolled her eyes and took your hand once more. "You guys know where Vander is?" "With Benzo and Ekko. He said he'd meet up with us."

She nodded while they walked off with Jinx who began to talk their ear off, Claggor excitedly replying as she went on.

"Vanders your dad, right?" "Practically." She responded, turning to look at you. "Sorry if they came off too strong." "I love them already." You grinned, jumping a little as you excitedly looked around.

"There's a good dessert shop right around here." "But I don't have any money on me–" "So? Let's go." She tugged you along as you stared at her confused, entering a pink colored shop to see an older woman inside with a smile.

"Violet!" She smiled, pushing up her glasses. "Hey Riesa." The woman's face then turned to one of surprise, staring at you with a smile. "Well haven't you grown up." "Hi." You spoke shyly with a small wave.

"I remember you when you were a little one, you came through with your father." "Yeah, on Common Day." She nodded. "When you were just a little lady with a sweet tooth." You giggled, the woman handing you a cone of ice cream. "I don't remember you, I'm sorry." "Oh don't be, I remember everyone. It's my job." she winked making you and Vi smile.

"Riesa remembers faces, she's good at it too." "Always, especially when they owe me money." Vi gave her a small, nervous laugh and smiled. "Tomorrow, swear." She shook her head giving Vi a cone. "You better, or I'm hunting you down and shoving that cone where the sun don't shine."

You laughed, tapping Vi's shoulder as she nodded.

"Yes ma'am." "Yeah, now get out there and show this girl how to have fun." And Vi did just that, taking you out into the street once more as you waved goodbye to the shop owner. Telling her you'd visit again.

"I really like it down here." You said quietly, leaning against Vi's arm. "It seems like it likes you too."

You stared at the now slightly melted ice cream.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't born up there. I could've been like you guys." "You still can, just with more responsibilities and better fashion sense." You glared at her. "I'm gonna be Queen, I won't be able to..." "Who says? You're literally gonna be fucking Queen."

You smacked her arm making her huff.

"Language. And being Queen has a lot of responsibility and work, it's not all fun and games with a title attached." She looked down at the ground. "Sorry." "Don't be. I dont believe a sewer rat like you'd understand anyway." "Sewer rat?" She all but yelled while you laughed, turning away from her.

Suddenly beside you a little boy tripped and fell, a gasp leaving your lips as you hurriedly crouched down.

"Are you alright?" "Y–yeah." He said, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "Oh sweetie, don't cry." "My kn–knee hurts." You looked down at his scraped knee, just a few layers of skin having been affected.

"Well it's not bleeding so that's good." "Will it go away?" "In a few days, but for now have this, to make you feel better."

Vi watched as you handed the little boy your ice cream that you had yet to eat. The little boy smiling through his rosey cheeks and tears.

"Tha–thank you miss." "No need, now go home and put something cold on that knee. And make sure you rest it, okay?" He nodded, taking off while you stood up.

Vi stared at you with an unreadable expression, turning to see her. Softly watching you come to take a lick of her ice cream.

"I'm gonna go dance, wait for me?" "Yeah." "Sorry for calling you a sewer rat, you are a very cute rat, actually." She snorted.

"Wow, so much better." "Right? I love you Violet."

You moved to kiss her cheek, giving her a smile before you ran off to join the small group dancing to a man strumming away on his instrument.

Jinx grabbing your hands as you both spun around to the music, laughing along as you skipped around.

"Sorry I'm late." A voice appeared from behind Vi. Vander confusingly staring at the melted ice cream in her hand, then the dazed look on her face.

He followed her eyes to the circle of kids and teens dancing, seeing her watching a familiar face in the crowd. Jinx spinning you around and pulling you in for a hug.

"So that's the Princess, huh?" "Yeah." He laughed to himself looking down at his kid with a starstruck face.

"I like her already, she shuts you up nicely." "Hey!"

#arcane vi #vi x yn #vi x reader #vi arcane #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #vi imagine #nevy writes

[peaches2217]

Aquamarine

AO3 link!

~~

Aquamarine, from the Latin and later Italian word for seawater, is also considered to be the "stone of courage and preparedness" and is believed to help maintain balance and order. Aquamarine is often used as a "good luck" stone, thought to bring feelings of peace, love, joy, and happiness.

~~~

"Everything will be alright."

Mario’s head snapped up. Surely he’d misheard her.

But Peach, meeting his gaze evenly, repeated herself: “Everything is going to be alright, Mario. This will pass, however painfully, and then we can rest, rebuild, and return to life as we know it. I have faith in that.”

Mario knew better. An all-out war raged around them, and they were both being pulled into the fray, in opposite directions. People were dying. They very well could die too. He knew she was scared. And he was almost certain that she knew he was scared, too. How could she say something so… so foolish, so false, now, of all times? It wasn’t like her.

Yet the resolve in her voice was unwavering, and determination burned red-hot in her eyes, and as quickly as he’d been confused, he understood. Acknowledging what might happen — what was probably going to happen, if either was permitting full honesty within themselves — was counterproductive. They could agonize over their circumstances, over the many outcomes, over the plenitude of things they wished they’d said and done if only they had known there might not be another opportunity. But where would that lead them? 

Falling into despair would only guarantee their demise. Hope would give them a chance. No matter how miniscule that chance or how false that hope, they had to take what they could get. She understood that, and now she was inviting Mario to join her in reclaiming what might be their last prospect of victory, or at least survival.

How often he wished he could be as strong as her.

But before he could accept that invitation and return her assurances, something in Peach’s expression flickered… and it was gone just as quickly, squashed down and set alight with an internal force that only a goddess could possibly possess. Her fingers fumbled with the brooch on her chest for a few seconds before she freed it from her dress and pressed it into Mario’s hand.

“This jewel has been in my family for at least a hundred and fifty years,” she said, guiding his right hand with her left so that the brooch sat exposed in his open palm. “My mother had entire outfits designed around it; it’s my sole reminder of her. So it is, without a doubt, my most valuable possession.” 

Mario regarded it as well as he could in the dull light. He recalled seeing it on past queens in the old paintings lining the castle’s entrance hallway, but it certainly didn’t show its age. The aquamarine gem matched her eyes in color and almost matched them in intensity, exploding into fragments of light whenever the sun caught it just so. He’d always thought it suited her.

Carefully, she folded his fingers over the brooch, resting her small hands gently over his. “I absolutely can’t lose it,” she added, quietly. “No matter what.”

He heard the intent all too clearly. He was being trusted to guard her most prized accessory. Therefore, he had an obligation to return to her.

I can't lose you, she said in all but words.

“I… I’ll keep it safe,” he promised, and the few seconds he pulled away from her to pocket the valuable were torturous. Taking her hands in his made everything feel right again, gave him the boldness he needed to match her resolve. “And once this is all over, I’ll give it right back. I’ll even have it polished so it looks good as new! You have my word, Princess.”

The cacophony outside grew louder. They were running out of time.

“Good. I’ll make all sorts of pastries as thanks,” Peach said, and her smile looked truly heartening for the first time since all of this nonsense began. “We’ll stuff ourselves on tiny cakes and endless tea and coffee and talk all day and all night. Or at least until Toadsworth comes to complain about having a visitor over so late and shoos you off.”

Mario couldn’t help but laugh. She was right; Toadsworth became more strict past ten or so at night, flustering himself over the princess’ wellbeing because a proper princess simply must remain well-rested, Your Highness! Maybe they could pull the “We just survived a catastrophic war” card, or at least get Toadette to cover for them so they could sneak out after hours (which would hardly be the first time).

Those thoughts slowed to a halt as Peach joined in, giggling quietly. The sound echoed off the barren walls hiding them away, delicate and pure; she blushed a sweet shade of pink, and her whole face glowed so achingly softly. It was as beautiful as it was haunting.

She truly believed what they were saying. And for a moment, Mario had believed it too.

I can’t lose you.

“Run,” Peach finally urged, a beacon of stability in the madness encroaching upon them. “Run, and hurry back to me. There’s still so many things I want to tell you, Mario, so don’t keep me waiting too long, alright?”

Mario’s breath caught in his throat.

I can’t lose you.

A rush of impulse surged through his blood, and he didn’t have the strength to fight it off.

“Ti amo,” he whispered, pulling himself into their conjoined hands. “Ti amo tantissimo, Principessa.” He bowed his head over her knuckles and screwed his eyes shut, trying and failing to control the trembling that overtook him — he wanted so desperately to remove their gloves, feel the imperfections of her skin against his, or kiss the silk separating them, kiss her, tighten his grip and run with her until all of the mayhem was far behind them or they were cut down where they stood. He didn’t care, so long as he didn’t have to leave her side.

“Mario…”

He stiffened.

“...What does that mean?”

For a fleeting moment, there was no war. Looking up didn’t reveal any fearsome resolve or half-suppressed fear or dread within her eyes. All he could see was affection, tinged dark with sadness.

This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. He would ensure that or die trying.

“It means…” Squeezing her hands one final time, he forced himself to smile. “...I will see you soon.”

He let go before he could register how painful it was, and he turned and ran, until a dozen doors and countless layers of stone separated him from her, until he stepped into the fray and acrid smoke filled his lungs.

Pausing in the final doorway, he snaked his hand into his right pocket, his fingers caressing the aquamarine brooch tucked safely within.

Images of tiny cakes and golden hair and clear afternoons full of laughter and sunlight flickered through his mind. He let them pass, he took a breath, and then he charged ahead.

#mario bros #super mario bros #smb #mario #princess peach #princess toadstool #mareach #mario x peach #fanfic #this started life as a “Hey imagine this!” text post and then I kinda... got carried away #What's the war all about? Why do they have to go their separate ways? What specifically threatens to kill them? And where the hell is Luigi #hell if I know #sometimes bare-bones angst is just what the doctor ordered #shoutout to Caged Unbroken by MetaBlade #it absolutely destroys me every time I reread it and the base idea here is inspired by it #read it immediately. This is a threat #peaches' fancy fics

[aita-blorbos]

Am I the Asshole for trying to do what’s best for my daughter?

I have two daughters, Z and R. I abandoned Z (R’s half sister) when she was a baby and never met her while I was alive. After death, we did meet once and reconcile, but that’s not very relevant. I care much more about R. I’ve done everything in my life to ensure she can get a good life. The life I never got.

I grew up as a miller’s daughter and in poverty, so I did everything I could to ensure that my dear R wouldn’t have to go through anything like that. I even learned magic to improve our family’s social standing.

When she was 18, I orchestrated a situation where she saved the life of a 10 year old girl. My daughter didn’t know that I was involved in that or who that girl was, so I was delighted to tell her later that that girl was the princess! And the king came to visit our estate because of how grateful he was to R. It was a bit funny to see the king there, since I almost married him when we were younger. Probably in part due to that, I was able to marry R off to the king! She could become the queen and that little princess would have a mother again. Wouldn’t that be great?

For some reason, R was not happy that I said yes on her behalf to the king’s proposal. I thinks he should’ve been grateful that I got her such an opportunity.

A bit later, I found out from that princess that R didn’t want to marry the king, because R was already in love with someone else. As soon as I convinced that princess to tell me who that was, I ripped out his heart. I told my daughter that love is weakness, but for some reason she was still unhappy.

Fortunately, now she didn’t have a reason to not marry the king anymore! She officially became the queen and could live in the castle and all that. :)

Over the years, I did many such things for my dear R. Obviously I only ever wanted the best for her.

Another great example would be a couple years later, when I framed R for murder to show her that her friends don’t actually trust her. And I was right, they all fell for my ruse! Ah, I’m such a great mother.

Anyway, R never liked the things I did for her for some reason and at some point, she even pushed me through a magical mirror and banished me to another realm. I don’t understand why. So, AITA for trying to give my daughter a better life than I had?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #child abuse