#with the misty and dotted or dabbed on look

[goabrakadoodle]

Simple Acrylic Painting Tips For Beginners

Acrylic paint was first developed in Latin America in the 1920s when artists demanded paint for their outdoor murals. The paint had to dry quickly and be resistant to changing weather conditions.

It was however left to “artists and scientists to work closely together to perfect the paint and in the mid-1950s, an American company launched the first commercially produced, water-based Acrylic Paint called Liquitex Soft Body.”

The great thing about acrylic paint is that, unlike watercolours, acrylic paint can be used on most surfaces — paper, glass, metal as well as wood — and comes in handy when it comes to craft projects.

Acrylic paint is a perfect choice for beginners as it has many of the strengths of oil paint in terms of colour translucency, opacity and body, but without using toxic solvents for mixing and cleaning. It is fun, affordable, and versatile.

Acrylic Paint is water-based and can be thinned with water but, once dry, it turns water-proof. As a result, it is perfect for use by children for painting and for craft projects. Just keep one thing in mind though, acrylic paints are permanent, so once dry they don’t wash off.

Here are some unique ways and techniques of acrylic painting to stimulate your child’s imagination. Feel free to experiment. There are no rules to follow because the process is always more important than the end product.

Also, keep exposing your child to a variety of art materials, and use different tools and paints to ensure different sensory enriching experiences. Even if your child’s paintings look like a mess to you – remember it’s her creation. Celebrate it!

Dry brush effect:

Simply apply the acrylic paint straight onto the surface of choice with a dry brush. Especially when you want a highly pigmented thick stroke of colour with rough, scratchy unrefined edges. This gives a more natural look to landscapes in elements such as grass, trees, and even clouds.Creating a wash

The wash technique is an easy way to create a watercolour effect for your painting’s background. Just like when you use watercolours, a wash of acrylic paint will make colours blend together and more translucent.

The purpose may be to help create the effect of a misty sky, a vibrant sunset or to give your painting a more abstract feel, or to quickly cover the canvas with a base layer of colour.

If you like working with watercolours, you’ll most probably come to love working with acrylic washes. The big difference to remember is the acrylic paint will set quickly and permanently.

Get started by taking a generous scoop of acrylic paint onto your palette. Dip your brush in water and dribble the brush into the paint. Stir. Apply this scoop of paint onto the canvas, covering the whole surface if you are doing a background. You will end up with a light, nearly-transparent layer of colour.

You can create intriguing special effects by adding a little more water or adding more colour. Experiment. Apply multiple layers on the top of the canvas and fewer as you move down for an ombre effect, or combine different brush strokes to create textures. Use your imagination!

Stippling with a toothbrush:

For intricate painting styles, stippling is a popular technique. It is essentially forming an abstract image without using long, smooth brush strokes, but by a collection of small dots and circles. You can use a paintbrush with stiff bristles or a discarded toothbrush to try this out. This painting technique is energetic, unpredictable and a whole lot of fun.

When using a stiff paintbrush, apply paint on the paper surface or canvas with a repetitive dabbing motion to create the effect. Or use a toothbrush dipped in paint and send a stream of droplets by gently sliding your thumb across the bristles of the brush over the painting surface. The stream of tiny droplets creates shapes that prompt several interpretations and is more abstract. Stippling is similar to but not exactly pointillism, where the shapes formed are more precisely defined.

Pouring a perfect abstract:

Some techniques are more common and easier, while others need more practice and time. Techniques for beginners are easy, quick to learn and need a few additional supplies. Simple to execute and allows you to create stunning works of abstract art.

A pouring medium is what makes the magic happen, without it you cannot get the paint to flow. Basically, the pouring medium is an additive that you add to your acrylic paint to increase its fluidity. It also keeps the colours vibrant and helps you create intricate patterns. You can get the pouring acrylic paint ready-made or DIY.

To get started, premix the acrylic colour in individual cups with the pouring medium. Pour each colour separately onto the canvas making lines or circles, taking any direction and going to places you’d like to go. Then tilt the canvas and enjoy the pattern that emerges. And it is done!

Of all the pouring techniques you can choose, the Dutch Pour technique is a little difficult but is an absolute winner. The results are usually spectacular and easy, and the best part, even a beginner can experience the magic of pouring. Each new creation is bound to be one-of-a-kind and amazingly different.

Splattering is freedom to express:

Splattering is a great way to experiment with less precise acrylic painting techniques. It is fun because there are no lines to restrict your creativity! This technique is about freedom, a play with colours, and want to express the chaotic nature of life.

The technique is achieved by wetting your brush in water, before dipping it into an acrylic paint of your choice before flicking the soaked brush to splash colour onto the canvas. Creating a real abstract piece of spontaneous art, as well as roughing up an already created precise artwork.

All you need is a canvas, a range of acrylic paints, and an open mind for a disorder to create bespoke masterpieces!

Layering for contrast & tonal values:

Among the most effective acrylic painting techniques is the one called layering which has resulted in some of the most well-known and desirable works of art in the world. Layering colours on top of one another creates an illusion of depth. Building contrast and tonal values.

This makes you look through one or more colours to see the layers below. This technique tricks the eye into seeing different depths between each layer, creating an impression that one shape is in front of, or behind another.

The technique has a huge impact on the overall feel of a painting. Brightening areas that would otherwise be flat and uninteresting.

Acrylic painting ideasHere are a few intriguing and practical acrylic painting activities for kids at home. These can simulate the imagination of toddlers and young children alike. Remember to begin the journey together with your child, and share the endless joys of painting. The selected art themes will help create experiences that can never bore anyone, least of all children. They never let go or hold back!Paint tulips in a jiffy!

Your favourite flower may be tulips and the favourite craft activity for toddlers and preschool children is playing with colours. So put the two together, and have a blast.

Remember, painting with anything other than a paintbrush is always fun for young children. Using an ordinary fork, instead of a paintbrush, to paint will be a great start. It’s quick, easy, and pretty mess-free.

Squeeze various colours of acrylic paint onto a paper plate. Start with less and add more if needed. Dip the backside of a fork in the paint, and press down on the paper to make an impression of the tulip. Wipe the fork clean with a paper towel and repeat using different colours.

Use a paintbrush to add in stems and leaves. Then use the fork again to make grass and sun. And lo, your tulip masterpiece is ready in no time!

Strawberry rocks:

Normally we tend to use larger-sized rocks when it comes to doing rock painting. But why not try using smaller stones and create a set of extraordinarily tempting and real-looking, rock-painted strawberries?! Needless to say, this will be an exciting and easy-to-do project over the weekend. You can add a little bit of drama to the whole exercise so that your toddler will enthusiastically participate and stay engaged.

Hand your child a small hamper to carry and take her for a stroll in the park. Help her collect a bunch of smooth, triangular-shaped rocks — the sizes can vary from ½ an inch to 1½ of an inch. Explain to your child what you are going to do with them. Inspire her and stimulate her senses while you are at it.

Collect as many pebbles and small rocks as you can and bring them home. Soak them in a tray containing a little detergent and water and give them a quick scrub. Wipe clean and allow to dry.

Using a flat brush, paint the entire surface of the small stones bright red. Ask your child to do the same with the other stones. It is essential to involve your child by showing her how it is done.

Using the tip of a toothpick, dip it in black acrylic paint and apply small dashes all over the painted red stones. Repeat with yellow paint, covering a portion of the black dashes with yellow ones.

And lastly, add two different shades of green to the tops of each of the painted rocks. Your painted strawberry rocks would by now be dry and are ready for display.

Pineapple finger painting:

Almost every child loves to paint. Pineapple finger painting projects are super simple and always have a big surprise in store for you at the end. Each painting will look different!

As a matter of fact, even when children are well into their teens, they don’t lose that urge because it is still fun to paint with fingers. This explains why pineapple finger painting can be so much fun for both toddlers and adults alike!

Use a paper plate as a palette to hold the acrylic paints. It really doesn’t matter which colours you choose, but be sure to squeeze out a generous blob of each colour. The colours can be contrasting, complementary or totally unique to each other.

After laying out the colour blobs, pick up the paper palette and tilt the plate back and forth, but make sure the acrylic paints don’t mix into each other. They just need to touch each other around the edges. You are now ready to start your finger painting!

Show your child how to dip her thumb in the colour blob and press it firmly on the paper surface. Create a pattern in the shape of a pineapple by making three thumbprints in the first row, follow this up with four thumbprints in the following two rows, and end it with a row of three thumbprints again.

Remember to vary the colours of each thumbprint. Bear in mind, that the more the variety of colours you manage to get in a single thumbprint, the more surprising will be the outcome. So don’t hesitate, because this is what makes Pineapple Finger Painting so exciting and fun!

The final step involves getting the lush green leaves on top of the pineapple right. Use a thumb dipped in green paint again and press it just above the first row of thumbprints, and slide it across at an angle to form short strokes of a green cluster of leaves. That’s it!

Cherry blossoms in bloom:

Children find painting without using a paintbrush fun as this can produce amazing effects. Painting a cherry blossom tree for instance is a beginner-friendly idea. It is also a perfect first canvas project for young children as it increases their confidence levels in painting with acrylic paints.

Start by drawing a bare shape of a cherry blossom tree with a brush dipped in black or brown acrylic paint. While you are at it, you can help your child learn to mix paints. Teach your child how she can create various shades and tints of red/pink that will help create an extra dimension to the cherry blossoms. It is easy to mix colours, start with simple colour mixes like adding red to white and you get pink! It is as simple as that.

Next, bundle together 3-4 Q-tips using an elastic band. Dip the tips in pink acrylic paint and dab away to make your blossoms. Just relax and enjoy the dabbing. Try this Q-tip technique as it can help create many cherry blossoms quickly and makes painting them very easy for everyone.

A never-ending journey of joy:

These acrylic painting ideas for beginners will set your child on a journey filled with plenty of beautiful experiences and moments that she truly enjoys. Encourage and stimulate her, but be gentle with your child and allow her to experiment and add her own twist and character to this journey.

When you approach painting like a series of mini-experiments, each building on one another — you’ll together help create something unique and interesting. What is important is not the outcome but the journey of learning together. This way she’ll enjoy the whole process that much more.

Always remember: painting (and learning a new skill) is a process. With each new thing your child learns and each new painting she makes, your child is on her way to becoming a better thinker, problem solver and budding artist!

About Abrakadoodle:

This is the kind of Process Art learning experience that inspires children to think different, be innovative, and devise ways that teach interesting things found in the real world. Changing the way they discover and imagine. Igniting their minds to think, play and learn like never before.

If you like to enrol your child in our children’s art classes or participate in cognitive learning activities, give Abrakadoodle a call. Or better still, make an appointment with the head of a centre near you.

Get hands-on exposure to an experience that will make you see art in a way that adds value to a child’s life.

Please note: Abrakadoodle classrooms are thoroughly sanitized every day — the tables, the chairs, the children’s activity stations and everything else the child might touch is made safe and clean. They also wear a mask, wash their hands frequently, and practice social distancing.

This post originally published at Abrakadoodle Blog.

#children art program #children art classes #early child development #kids art classes #creative art classes #creative problem-solving skills #Creative thinking activities for kindergarten

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 20- Always A Hero Comes Home

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 8612

Warnings: Awkwardness from these two at the end.

AN: Another Long ass chapter. Sorry for making your eyes hurt!

19- Ragnarok

...

"Hold still." Hvitserk grunts, tilting his waterskin over the torn flesh of Artemis's ear. She hisses, fighting to slap away his probing hands. The red liquid spills down her neck and onto her clothing, and when she snatches the waterskin to sniff its contents, a familiar smell invades her nostrils.

Wine.

She takes a large swig of it without hesitation, the familiar bitterness coating her taste buds. It spills down her chin, her thirst completely taking over. She'd missed the taste of wine after only drinking bitter ale for about a year.

"Hey! If I'd known you'd drink it all I would've never used it on you." Hvitserk laughs, snatching back the waterskin and pouring the remainder over her wounded ear again.

"I thought I'd never taste it again." She pants against the pain, slapping Hvitserk's hand away to no avail.

"I stole it from Bjorn- stop it!" He reprimands, pushing her hair aside to inspect her ear. A chunk of flesh was torn away, leaving Artemis's ear badly disfigured. It would heal in time but if left untreated by a proper healer, it would surely fester.

She sighs, shifting uncomfortably upon a boulder that was making her backside sore. She lets Hvitserk work, watching as he pulls at her left leg. He removed her trousers from her boot and ripped off the edge of the fabric to place over her still bleeding wound.

As he works, her eyes scan the area to keep her mind busy. The camp was utterly destroyed, the yellow tarps that were once tents turned into ashes, littering the field and mixing into the soil as if no fire had occurred in the first place. Her eyes absentmindedly searched for Freydis's body, but she knew it had been engulfed by the flames, her ashes scattered in the wind.

The smell of smoke lingered through the misty showers, mingling with the stench of rapidly decomposing bodies just over the hill. But the destruction of the camp was nothing compared to the victory of Ivar's men over Lagertha's. They rejoiced, howling cries shouted into the skies in delight.

In the distance, wails of pain could be heard, the screams of a warrior getting an arm amputated just a few feet away. There were others hurt too, much worse than a wounded ear.

"Other warrior's need attention,” She grunts, “An ear is nothing compared to an arm." Another blood curdling scream made her jump, causing Hvitserk to suck his teeth.

"Hold still. Ivar would have a fit if I neglected you. I have the duty now of protecting you when he can't." Artemis blinks up at him, not knowing whether to thank him or roll her eyes.

"Where is Ivar?" She asks instead.

"Somewhere. Scouting the battlefield with Heahmund."

"Heahmund survived?" Hvitserk snorts.

"Did you not want him to?"

"I just...I didn't know if he would. Said this was his duty to God," Artemis swallows thickly, rubbing her eyes hard enough to see black dots in her vision. Hvitserk shrugs, still dabbing the torn fabric against the missing shell of her ear. After a moment, he nods to himself but frowns. The wound was still bleeding.

"I've done what I could but you need to see a healer," He steps back to inspect his work, a hand on his chin in thought, "You look like shit by the way."

"Because you look so much better." Artemis snaps back with a roll of her eyes. Leave it to Hvitserk to have a sense of humor after fighting a war. He belts out a laugh, and she drops her head with a sigh. After a few moments, the sound of a galloping horse was heard in the distance.

"Artemis!" Ivar's voice, though exhausted, was unmistakable. Her head shot up immediately despite the throbbing pain, and her eyes met his instantly.

His chariot had always given him a majestic appearance, but now, as he looked at her with such intensity, a lopsided grin stretching slowly over his lips, blood and dirt covering him from head to toe, her only thoughts were on how beautiful he looked.

"So...are you both just going to stare at each other?" Hvitserk comments after a few moments with a huff, and it was enough for her to jump off the boulder, ignoring the protestation of her sore limbs. She rushes to him and throws herself into Ivar's waiting arms, the force almost knocking them both over. He chuckles, an arm snaking around her while the other shoots out to stabilize the chariot before she sends them tumbling.

Artemis wasted no time in kissing him, tasting the salty sweat and iron on his lips without much care.

But it was electrifying. She felt the spark throughout her entire body, and it was everything she could have asked for. Ivar held her close, placing repeated kisses over her face, her nose, her cheeks, her eyes, her brow, and then finally back to her lips, another spark attacking them in waves and sending that fluttering feeling to their stomachs like lovesick children.

Grabbing her into a tight embrace, he cradling her head to his chest, but when she lets out a hiss and slightly pushes him away, he lets go immediately. He pulls back his hand and sees small smears of blood on his fingers.

"Her ear is wounded! You've gone and festered it." Hviterk sucks his teeth, tossing his younger brother the already bloodied cloth, "The blood won't clot yet."

"It's fine, I'm fine." Artemis says, still breathless from their kiss. Ivar gently pulls her messy hair back to reveal the torn flesh of her ear and the drying blood on her neck.

"How did this happen? Hvitserk, where the hell were you?!" Ivar presses the scrap of cloth over her ear as gently as he could, irrationally glaring at his brother.

"Me? I was the one who found her here in a state of panic!" Hvistserk throws his hands up in exasperation, "Where were you, hmm?"

"Winning this war!"

"Oh I see, because you fought this war all on your own?"

"Hvitserk, if you don't shut the fu-"

"Stop it! Both of you!" Artemis yells out, forcing herself out of Ivar's embrace despite his whine of protest.

"There was nothing either of you could have done, alright? Lagertha's men attacked the camp, and one of them had better aim with a bow than the others." With a tired sigh, she collapses back onto Ivar again, and he welcomes her back into his arms gratefully.

"How many men?"

"Five."

"Wait, how did you manage to escape five men?" Hvitserk asks, crossing his arms in disbelief. She wasn’t in any mood to answer so many questions. She just wanted to sleep, preferably with Ivar beside her.

"I almost didn't," Her voice was muffled by Ivar's leather chest, "But they are dead, or at least I know one of them is." She pulls the hammer that she used from her belt to show them both. Luckily she was able to find it after her fall.

The large iron mass was covered in dried blood and tissue, the wooden handle coated with bloody handprints. She should have been disgusted, that should have been a normal reaction, but at that point, she had no sensitivity toward it anymore. She was just tired.

"Baby bird killed a man?" Ivar murmurs, his lips on her hair as he continues to absentmindedly kiss the top of it. He feels her nod against him, her arms squeezing him tight around his waist.

"Can you show us?"

...

"You did this?"

Hvitserk knelt down on a knee, his eyes raking over the man with no face. It was beaten into a bloody pulp. The man was unrecognizable, only the blue cloth wrapped around his armored bicep gave him away. He turns to look over his shoulder, a large grin on his face. Somehow, Hvitserk found it highly amusing.

"Artemis, you killed him?" The question was asked in disbelief, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he kicks at the lifeless body buried within the tall grass.

She nods silently, her eyes lingering over the corpse. Her hands grip the hammer tighter at the memory, knuckles white with pressure. She only just realized that the fires never reached far into the clearing, the blaze only scorching the edges of the forest.

"I assume they killed the guards that were left behind. They killed Freydis."

"What?" Ivar asks, eyebrows shooting up towards his messy twists. So many emotions seemed to flash across his eyes. Was it for the death of his previous lover?

Well, that was hardly fair, they weren’t much of anything really, but it still left her wondering. She couldn't tell at first, but once Ivar looks down at her with that signiture lopsided grin of his, she knew there was little sympathy for Freydis. He was impressed she managed to escape.

The edges of his eyes crinkled as he lets out a laugh. He grips her shoulders, planting a kiss over her matted hair comically before hopping off the chariot with a grunt.

His crutch forgotten in the chariot, Ivar crawls over the damp grass towards the body like the snake he was. He was smiling proudly, his eyes raking over the dead man.

After a minimal amount of searching, he finds the other four bodies in the distance. There were no physical injuries, at least none that Ivar could see. They appeared asleep, as if dreaming, but when he crawled over and placed two fingers on one man's throat, there was no pulse. Confused, Ivar looks over at Hvitserk then at Artemis, who was extremely silent, her eyes seemingly distant.

"How is this possible?" Ivar comments, hands roaming over the leather covered corpse in search of any clues. Artemis drops the hammer gently onto the chariot before walking toward the lifeless bodies.

She stared at every man, each sprawled out across the grass, not a drop of blood nor indication of any wounds. She remembered how she felt, the adrenaline in her veins, the raven and the look in its beady eyes.

She remembered the old man.

Odin.

She takes a deep breath, kneeling beside Ivar. The next words that tumbled from her lips made a shiver run down her spine.

"Ivar," She begins, clearing her throat, "The stories you have told me of Odin..." Artemis stops, not knowing how to continue. Her hands begin to tremble slightly at the thought of speaking against her own beliefs.

"What is it?" He urges.

"I think..." She shakes her head, "I know I saw him. He helped me. He helped you." Ivar blinks stupidly. For a moment he wonders how she was given such a privilege to witness something as incredible as Odin himself. Though he was a firm believer in his gods, the privilege was never given to him despite his mother’s abilities in all things spiritual. It just never happened. Naturally, he was a bit put off, perhaps a bit...envious? No, he’d never admit to envy, but he wouldn’t call her a liar either. The look on her face and the emotions pouring from her eyes told him that perhaps there was truth to her words.

Isn’t that what he was waiting for? For her to feel a complete connection with him and his beliefs? Yes, that was exactly what he wanted, and the more he looked into her deep colored eyes, the more he realized the great need he had for her, strong like the winds against the sails at sea.

"What?" Hvitserk cuts in, filling in the space of his brother’s silence, "What are you talking about?"

"Do you not see, brother?” Ivar finally finds his voice, the words oddly gentle. He lifts his hand to pass a knuckle over Artemis’s dirty cheek, “She is blessed by the All Father." His eyes bore into hers with a deep admiration swimming in its blue depths.

As much as she loves those particular soft looks he gives her, his words were not enough to settle her mind. She frowns, reaching under the neckline of her dirty tunic to reveal both pendants of the cross and Mjölnir. Yanking the threadings from about her neck, she tosses them both onto the dampening earth.

"Why did you do that?" Ivar asks her frantically, brows arched in worry as if the gods were watching this very encounter. She doesn’t give him an answer, her silence always speaking louder to him than any words could.

Hvitserk watches their exchange before moving to pick up the pendants, turning them over in his hand before squeezing them in his palm. “She didn’t mean it,” He seemed to announce, as if the action would seek forgiveness to whichever gods were out there listening, "She is conflicted. She doesn't understand what she's seen," Hvitserk crouches down to offer her the pendants back, "You will come to find the truth for yourself, in time."

"I don't want them." Was her stubborn reply. She swallowed thickly, licking her lips as she eyes both pendants in his large hand. The cross and hammer both seemed to glitter despite the droplets of mist landing on their surface. It was as if they were mocking her. Quickly, she curls Hvitserk’s fingers over the religious trinkets, pushing his hand away.

With a sigh, Ivar shifts to look directly into her watery eyes and confusion was indeed all he saw in them. "Artemis," He takes that gentle tone with her again, "Can't you see Odin has protected you?" She shakes her head.

"I don't know what to believe anymore." Everything she had been raised to believe, everything that she thought was true, had come crumbling down the moment that raven touched her.

The tense air was interrupted as more shouts were heard over the hill. More of their men were found alive. Hvitserk glances over to a battle torn Heahmund and Harald, the latter not physically ruined, but his mind gone.

"Ivar, it is best if we leave. We have no provisions and the men are wounded." Ivar grunts in agreement, turning his back to Artemis. He brings her long braided hair over her shoulder, pushing stray locks of hair away from her face before trailing his fingers down her cheek to gently grip her chin. He smiles at her.

"Let us go home."

...

Anyone walking into Kattegat could not miss the decapitated head of its former queen impaled on a tall spike and placed on the fortifications she had worked so diligently on. Her blue lifeless eyes stared down most hauntingly, her equally blue mouth open as if to speak the tales of her demise. The ravens made a feast of her cheeks and the insects a home in her hair.

Ivar sighs, leaning his dirty cheek against Artemis’s standing form as his chariot led the procession of warriors back to his home. He should be angry- no, he should be furious! Bjorn had managed to escape along with Ubbe and his new whore. They slipped right through his fingers. With that lot running loosely about, there was always a chance of another battle, of a rebellion against his rule once he established himself as king of Kattegat. But for now, he was satiated with the outcome.

Lagertha was dead, and Ivar had given the orders for her head to be placed on a spear and paraded into Kattegat as proof of his sovereignty before his arrival. With that bitch finally gone, he had succeeded in his revenge. Would mother be proud? Certainly. Would father? Perhaps not. But that didn't matter, the gods were on his side as was the pensive woman beside him.

She summed up a courage unknown to him, and when he saw her form upon the hill top, bloody from her own battles, he knew that she must have been destined for greater things. He couldn't call her a weak baby bird anymore, she had proven that nickname wrong, but it was still endearing to him.

Artemis finds herself gazing up at the dead woman, and once they enter Kattegat, she kept turning back to look. She was something brutal to glance at, an example of the consequences a usurper faced.

Lagertha had been beautiful. She painted herself as a just queen and powerful shieldmaiden. Artemis didn't know how far her influence had reached, but if she had to guess, Lagertha must have been successful. Ivar had taken back a flourishing village that was becoming a city in it's own right.

"I have never met the woman, but in battle, she was beautiful." Heahmund comments softly, walking beside the chariot, his eyes stuck on Kattegat's former queen.

"Indeed she was." Artemis remarks, turning one last time to catch sight of the matted yellow hair.

"Beautiful or not, she is dead now," Ivar hisses, tightening his hold on her, "Such a joyous day, why must we continue to speak of her? I will hear no more of it." Artemis sighs, offering him the smallest hint of a smile before leaning to place a kiss on Ivar's brow.

"You are now king, it is as you say." That was more than enough to lift his spirits.

Many of the villagers were outside their homes and businesses, watching quietly at the arrival of their new king. No one rejoiced as fervently than Ivar himself, though. The new king had won the battle, an old generation against a new one, and rode from the battlefield to the city that had always been his home.

Ivar had left a boy, and now returned triumphantly as a man. The people stared, their eyes gazing at the young crippled leader, no longer the weak boy that crawled about on their muddy planes, but now a figure of authority that walked, a symbol of a new Kattegat.

Long live the king.

Ivar led the procession of his remaining warriors to the Great Hall, the home he had grown up in. Harald sent his men and officials to report back to Vestfold, and many of Lagertha's men that survived had decided to join Ivar and accept him as their king.

The hall was just as Artemis remembered, the same colors and warmth, but it was stripped of its wealth, probably Bjorn's doing. The only thing that remained was Lagertha's banners and her owl, perched in its usual spot by the throne. It had an ominous look, as if the creature understood the circumstances.

"Well Ivar," Harald says tiredly, "You've done it." She had only now noticed his long braided hair had been abandoned for a shorter look. The older king looked exhausted, his eyes distant.

"Do not forget our agreement." He continues, and Ivar rolls his eyes.

"I haven't forgotten, do you wish to discuss the terms now?"

"Settle it now? Yes." Harald grunts, rubbing a dirty hand down his equally dirty face.

"Very well," Ivar sighs tiredly, his fatigue showing with every step taken. He was in pain, and had been for hours. Ignoring the eyes on them, Artemis steps close to him, tugging gently at his sleeve to get his attention.

"Are you well enough to continue? You all just fought in a war." She whispers, gazing up at him. He smiles at her, bending to rest his brow against hers before speaking.

"I will be fine. It is nothing I cannot handle," Ivar takes another look at her ear, "Hvitserk will take you to the healer."

"But-"

"Go see a healer, I will meet with you later." He pecks her cheek, motioning for his men to follow him. Harald offers Artemis a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, before following Ivar with Heahmund and the other men in tow.

"Well," Hvitserk says with a sigh, "Shall we pay the healers a visit?"

"I remember the way," She says, "Join their meeting." He shakes his head, stepping out of the hall and into the warmth of the outside.

"I already know the details, I don't need to sit around and hear more. Come on, let's go."

...

A feast was organized upon arrival, chickens, goats, and sheep slaughtered to fill the hungry bellies of the people. The fire pit in the center of the hall was made ablaze, the smell of the roasting animal flesh wafting about. Ale was served, a cup given to every empty hand that could hold it. The hall was decorated accordingly, expelling any memory of Lagertha, the owl set free into the forest. Ivar's banners, the circle of gold and black swirls against rich red, was displayed around his throne, exactly where his father once sat.

Day quickly fell into night, and although Ivar was distracted with the celebrations, he noticed the absence of his baby bird. His eyes searched for her through the crowd of his supporters, his father's throne now feeling uncomfortable and rather lonely. The throne beside him, empty and collecting dust, lacked a presence he thought should be filled soon if he were to be viewed as a legitimate ruler.

He glances below, looking down at his older brother who sat on the steps leading to the throne, his attention entirely on Harland . The old king was mourning, drinking away in his misery as his brother, wife, and unborn child were gone in a matter of hours. Ivar didn't blame the grieving man, but he did not care all that much either, a side effect of being, well, Ivar.

Heahmund stood brooding behind Ivar like his shadow, his cropped hair now long enough to fall over his eyes. He has now sworn allegiance to his new king, and has sworn to protect him if need be. Ivar was surrounded by those he believed were his most trusted men, yet he felt like something was missing.

Ivar places his drinking horn to his lips, gulping the bitter liquid down as he drums his fingers lightly on the armrest of his throne. A fight broke out in the center of the hall, whether it was deliberate or for amusement, it didn't matter so long as the crowd was pleased. He stayed silent for a few minutes until his fingers began to twitch in annoyance and he couldn't help but ask.

"Hvitserk, where's Artemis?"

His brothers attention was now taken up by the fight, a grin stretching across his face like a child playing with a toy. Ignoring Ivar at first, he cheers for the fighter with the advantage, the men rolling about like pigs on the floor.

"Hvitserk!"

"How am I to know?! Is she not your woman?"

"I left her in your care!"

"She wanted to take a walk, clear her mind, perhaps speak to the gods, I don't know." The older brother shrugs, "You know how her mind wanders, Ivar, and Bjorn had given her unsettling news that she is most likely pondering."

"What?"

"Her home has been invaded by foreigners." Ivar's brow furrows, and a frown forms on his lips.

"She's probably worried about her father." Ivar says quietly, but then his eyes turn back to his brother, "And how do you know all this?" He questions.

"Bjorn told us both." Hvitserk says with a roll of his eyes. Ivar grumbles, sipping his ale, but a hint of worry begins to bloom in his chest. How long did she intend to wander around on her own? He knows her to be extremely pensive, and her own thoughts would be the death of her.

Their relationship was no secret. The people knew that Ivar the Boneless had given a bit of his heart to his former slave he had freed. There was nothing wrong with the people knowing, but Ivar knew his enemies could use Artemis as leverage. Lagertha did, sending men to destroy the camp and kill her, hoping it would affect him. It would have, if the situation played out differently but he tried not to think of it lest his mind be plagued as Artemis’s often was. She had defended herself, the man with the unrecognizable face was a testament to that, but she was no warrior, and Ivar had as many enemies as he did supporters. He worried for her more than for himself.

He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.

"She will be alright," Heahmund says to him in that apathetic tone he often spoke in, "The girl is far from meek. Is that not why you favor her so much?"

"Shut up." Ivar mutters from behind his horn. Heahmund's norse was improving, but he was far more irritating that way. Ivar continued brooding as much as Heahmund did, annoyed with himself for being unsociable and displeased on a night he should be celebrating his success.

But then, he spotted her.

The large oak doors crack open enough to let her slim form slip through. His blue orbs followed her as she slinked into the rowdy crowd, dodging the intoxicated men and women in her way. She thought she could sneak in, and to the drunken crowd she did, but she did not go unnoticed by him.

She was back in a simple dress, free of those ugly trousers he didn't care for. Ivar took his time to admire the way it hugged her in all the right places. She had taken the time to bathe, he could tell by her glowing skin and how tamed her hair was, two simple braids pulled back just enough to reveal her pretty eyes. Her long locks were brushed over her left shoulder, no doubt in a failed attempt to conceal her wounded ear.

Artemis is greeted by a red headed thrall, the one belonging to Jarl Erik, if Ivar remembered correctly. The thrall throws her pale freckled arms around Artemis's form, causing both the girls to stumble in laughter.

Ivar continues to watch their short lived interaction until her familiar eyes meet with his own. He beckons her forward silently, his eyes doing all the talking, and she understands, moving towards him without hesitation.

"My king." She addresses him with his new title, much kinder than all the times she had ever addressed him as a prince. She bows her head in respect before politely greeting the men around him. Ivar swells with pride at the greeting, smiling as he holds out a hand for her to take.

"Baby bird," He smiles at the unamused look twisting her features, motioning for her to take the seat beside him.

“He gets quite indecent when you are not around.” Hvitserk mutters, chuckling when he hears Ivar’s annoyed mutter behind him.

"I've been waiting for you. Sit." Ivar ignores his brother, motioning again to the throne.

"I cannot sit there." Artemis hesitates.

"I don’t see why not."

"I am not a queen."

"It is merely a chair."

"A symbol of authority. The people will not have it." She retorts, ending their back and forth. She quickly moves out of the way as another fight breaks out.

"Do you Christian's always take such formalities to extremes?" Hvitserk chimes in, patting a space for her to sit beside him.

"Only a king and queen are allowed to sit in their respective thrones. It is a symbol of their authority. That has always been the way," Heahmund stood rigid as always, but for once, he made no claims against her.

"Us Northerners care little for such formalities. The people know who rules over them." Ivar hands his horn over to Artemis, offering her a drink. She tired of ale, especially after having a taste of the glorious wine from earlier, but she took it gratefully, making sure to take extra care in glancing over Ivar's form.

He was well dressed, abandoning the usual leather and wool he sported for a silky tunic in a nice earthy color. His hair was neatly braided and tied at the nape of his neck, and the bottom was left loose to flow freely. Even his trousers were swapped for one of much finer quality, the iron braces caging his legs as always. Ivar was a handsome sight, and as kingly as any northerner could be. His golden arm ring shone in the light of the fire as he took back his horn from her grip.

Oblivious to her staring, he took his hand to push away her hair, and a white gauze with a bloody undertone was visible, placed directed over her ear. He gently grips her chin to turn her face towards him. A few scratches and slight bruising, all minor wounds that would heal in time. Her eyes were shining, burning like the fire in the center of the hall. After all this time, he still couldn't fathom how passionate her eyes were.

"I hear you have caused quite the damage, Artemis." Harald comments, interrupting their tender moment.

The older king looks out towards the drunken sea of people. He was borderline drunk, but still able to carry conversation. Artemis couldn't blame his lack of sobriety, she'd heard what happened, and the news had probably reached Vestfold by now. Halfdan would not be joining him in his hall, and he was now without a queen. Although Astrid did not seem to care for him, he somehow cared for her a great deal.

"I'd hardly call it damage." She says, suddenly timid.

"You destroyed a man's face with a hammer," Hvitserk scoffs, "And now you have a battle scar to boast about."

"Far from meek." Heahmund repeats to Ivar, who had stars in his eyes. He appeared lovestruck.

Artemis puts a hand to her ear out of habit now. It was a terrible battle scar, nothing to boast about. When she looked at her reflection in the bowl of water the healer used to clean her wound properly, she froze. The flesh had an ugly form to it, and would heal awkwardly.

"You are more skilled with a bow than I thought," Ivar interrupts her thoughts, "Do you know how far you were to have aimed that well? The arrow went straight through Lagertha's wrist."

"I didn't realize, I just...did it, I suppose." She shrugs. Her memory of that particular moment was blurred.

"My lessons have made a difference," He states proudly, reaching down to grab her hand, placing his lips over her knuckles. She smelled of lavender oils.

"I've given her plenty of lessons as well, Ivar, you cannot possibly take all the credit." Hvitserk reminds his younger brother with a scoff, eyebrows raised, but with no true heat behind his words. He was having fun, everyone was.

"Mm, I'm speaking of our private lessons, brother." Ivar grins at the red that flushes over her cheeks, and the roll of his eyes. Heahmund let's out a grunt of disapproval, as if he were the celibate man he wished he was.

"Ivar." Artemis warns, her heated glare doing nothing for his mischievous smile to falter.

"What?" He questions innocently, chuckling at the way her lips pouted. He draws closer to her, smirking when she shivers at his close proximity, "I think it's time for a private lesson."

...

Kattegat was beautiful in the summer, from the green pastures to the wild flowers. But the pastures were slowly withering away and the wild flowers were beginning to die out. The autumn season was but a few weeks away, and already the weather was revealing itself at night. Artemis remembered the brutality of the cold season in the north, and how merciless the snow was. She would be spending another winter in Kattegat, which was how she remembered it the most, in an everlasting cold.

Things started falling into a routine now that Ivar was king. Much of it was the same as before with business starting early in the morning and ceasing in the evenings. The fortifications were being worked on again, tweaked to perfection for any future threats.

Ivar sent Heahmund along with a few scouts daily in search of his brothers. Bjorn, Ubbe, and Torvi had escaped successfully, much to Ivar's displeasure. They left behind Margrethe, now a mad woman. Ivar was hoping to extract something from her, any information he could find useful, but she had proven rather useless. She was left to her own devices, until she disappeared.

The new king was as paranoid as he had been at York, his worst fear being a potential rebellion, and so, it was advised to him that it was time he found himself a wife to establish his allies.

Artemis knew this. Of course she did, but she absolutely detested it. Who did she think she was? A future queen? The thought always made her laugh bitterly.

She was a foreigner and a recently freed slave with nothing to offer a king, not that she ever wanted to be a queen. While most young girls dreamt of being princesses and being married off to rich husbands, she only wanted a life she could call her own. Falling for someone of royal lineage was not part of the plan.

She had nothing to offer to a peasant, least of all a prince, newly crowned king. No lands, no titles, no alliances or wealth. Only her craft and her heart, which she stupidly guarded less the more she yearned for Ivar.

Ivar spared no expense despite her humble ways, treating her like treasure that had been lost to him for a millennia. He had grown to become someone better than he was before, maturing like the sweetest of fruits, ripe and ready to eat. Such was the duty of a king. Both loved and feared by the people, Ivar had the world at his feet and yet, he was beyond that.

Ivar the Boneless had become to her something she never imagined, the sweetest taste on her lips at night, and a bitter flavor on her tongue when he left in the mornings. His touch felt like fire upon her skin, calloused fingers leaving traces of heat all over.

But how could something like that last?

Eligible women of high status flocked from different kingdoms in Scandinavia in the hopes of gaining a young king as a husband. Most were beautiful, with flowing hair and bright eyes, and always adorned in the most expensive fabrics and precious jewels. They offered everything a ruler could hope for when establishing an alliance through marriage.

More feasts were thrown to entertain the visiting families, where they paraded their daughters under Ivar's nose. Artemis would hide away in the only place she could ever feel in her element, in a haven among the hammers and heat of the forge. She always liked to keep her hands busy, and if her hands were busy, then her mind wouldn't wander.

She had no desire to witness any interaction between him and his suitors lest she feel jealousy rear its ugly head again. Instead, she reflected such ill feelings into her work, helping Arvid's father, Master Hagen, with the whatever he could not do himself.

But before every feast would end, Ivar would sneak out the hall to come and drag her back to his chambers.

And suddenly, the entertainments were brought down to a minimum, until the feasts were stopped entirely. Ivar feasted less and held private council more with potential allies. One by one, he’d send the high born women and their families home with an attempt at a polite smile and successful business conducted with their fathers. In the end, Ivar got the alliances he needed for Kattegat to increase its wealth, but he still lacked a queen, and he had one in mind.

"I knew I'd find you here." Ivar's voice was so gentle, that Artemis was surprised she'd heard it over the roaring of the fire. She looks up from her work, eyes squinting against the daylight that blinded her vision before focusing entirely on Ivar's smiling face.

He sets his crutch down against the table she worked on, slowly lowering himself onto a stool beside her with a grunt. His legs didn't pain him as much as they usually did, she could tell by his uplifting mood. His spirits made her smile, her own brightening at the mere sight of him.

"You know me well." She says, removing her gloves and grasping the object she was polishing to show him. It was a small golden ring, the very ones that young boys received when they came of age. It gleamed brightly, the wolf head at each end baring their shiny little teeth.

"The fisherman requested it for his son. He will be of age soon.”

Ivar takes the golden band, running his thumb over the groves of the textured gold, welded in a rope like fashion. She quickly learned to replicate the northern style, yet somehow she had incorporated the delicate curves and swirls from her homeland. It was a simple trinket, but most beautiful.

"Beautiful." Ivar murmurs, directing it towards her as he lifts his eyes to meet hers, causing the color to rise on her cheeks and a smile to creep up on her lips. That was enough to give him the confidence to move on with his plan. She leans over to peck his cheek innocently before standing and wiping her damp hands on her apron.

"You're now a busy man, Ivar. How did you manage to escape your nobles?"

"I always have time for you, baby bird." He states, pulling at her skirts to bring her closer. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he gazes up at her with his big blue eyes. She swore the sky itself dwelled within his irises.

"Even with those pretty noble ladies running around vying for your attention?" She wraps her arms around his broad shoulders, smirking as he rolls his eyes.

"Formalities." He says.

"It comes with being king." She nods, her nails scratching at the hairs on the nape of his neck. She learned how much he liked that.

"Come, take a walk with me." He tells her with the enthusiasm of a small child.

"Only if you are in no pain."

"I am fine," He insists, "Let us go down towards the river."

Dropping off the golden trinket to the fisherman and recieving payment, the pair head towards the forests that encircled Kattegat. The familiar river was beginning to change that time of year. Its gentle waters in summer were now a rushing flow with the increase of the northern winds. It was where Artemis once did a spoiled Ivar's laundry before the colder months would hit.

"It was here when I noticed your boney little fingers making a mess of my tunics." Ivar pointed towards the edge of the river with a smirk. Artemis scoffs, pinching his stubbled cheek in retaliation, earning a scowl from him.

"You were severely unpleasant then." When they walked down slowly towards the edge, Ivar abandoned his crutch, sliding down the trunk of a tree to sit comfortably on the grass.

"I still am," Ivar points out, "Only the gods know what you saw in a cripple." She smiles, sitting beside him and grasping his calloused hand in her own.

"Only the gods know." She agrees, causing him to raise a brow. That was something very unlike her to say. They haven't spoken of the gods thoroughly, as Artemis was uncomfortable with the topic. He knew it was an internal battle for her and he let her be until she was ready to address her faith. Perhaps she chose not to believe in anything.

He holds onto her hand in a comfortable grip, deciding to speak of other matters.

"Crete," He begins, getting her attention immediately, "You have yet to tell me it was invaded." He watches her intently and after a moment she sighs looking away, removing her hand from his grasp in favor of fiddling with the ends of her hair.

"Hvitserk told you?"

"Mhm."

"I...didn't know how to talk about it." She struggled to say. Her eyes were sad now, and when she brought them to Ivar's, he could practically read off all her emotions with that one look.

The stories of Bjorn's adventures with Halfdan seemed like the stuff of legends, and the more the stories spread, the more the people became interested in the Mediterranean. Aria even gave into the chatter, wondering if the Mediterranean was as the people whispered, a land of sun and cities of gold. That made Artemis laugh. There might not have been cities of gold, but the sun was in abundance.

She chose to avoid speaking of her home, and put it out of her mind constantly, the memory of her father haunting her. Crete was a lost cause, and if Ivar were to keep his word and travel there, then he'd need to assemble a fighting force as he did in England if he planned to go up against the Andalusian's.

"I have no desire to think or speak of my home." She says after a while, dropping her hands to her lap.

"Do you not wish for me to take you back?" Ivar asks her cautiously.

"I'm afraid there would be nothing to take me back to. I've heard stories. They are fierce." Ivar snorts, picking up small stones at the river's edge and tactfully gliding them across the water.

"Surely, they cannot compare to how my people wage war." She shrugs, but offers him a smile, something he found accomplishing.

"I promised I would take you back if only to find your father, and it shall be done." His determination was admirable, but she believed it was too late to even be speaking about her father. The safest thing for her to do was to accept that he might be gone. It hurt far less than being hopeful.

Immediately noting the frown forming of her lips again, Ivar changes topic. He carefully grasps her hand again before speaking.

"I am in need of a wife," He begin, and that only succeeded in deepening her frown.

Bad topic change.

Artemis wastes no time in snatching her hand away, despite how cold it felt now. She knew what this was about. Perhaps he finally found a suitable woman. The thought made her heartache something terrible, and she looks away in fear of revealing herself. She knew this would come sooner than later.

"I am well aware of that, Ivar." She finally replies, though the words were extremely bitter.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his brows knitting in confusion. He couldn't be that dense. She ignores his questions and asks her own.

"When will you marry?"

"Before the first snowfall, if all goes well," So soon. They both remain very quiet after that. She distracts herself with the singing of the birds but that did nothing to ease her. What a cruel joke to think she could live a life of simplicity with Ivar, and what a fool she was to believe it.

Her hands. She needed to do something with her hands. She fiddles with her skirts, arranging and rearranging them, telling herself Ivar would go away if she ignored him, that the whole situation would disappear if she just ignored it. But nothing was that easy, especially with matters of the heart.

"My love..."

"Why do you call me that?" She rages, stubbornly refusing to look at him. If she had just looked over, she would have seen the smirk forming on his lips.

"You're bothered."

"Your new wife would not take kindly to me," She announces suddenly, "It is best if I leave and find accommodations elsewhere." This causes a severe eye roll from him, the worst of them yet.

It seemed they were both incredibly stupid.

"Now why would I want you to leave my bed?"

"I will not be the king's mistress."

"Who said you would be my mistress?"

"Ivar, stop this foolishness." He sucks his teeth with a shake of his head, opting to just go on and say it.

"I wish for you to be my wife."

Her rage stops, and she finally brings her eyes to meet his. His chest was heaving as if he crawled up the tallest mountain, eyes wild and filled with uncertainty.

Artemis wasn't sure what had shocked her more, the marriage proposal, or the language he said it in. The Greek rolled off his tongue so perfectly, that she would have mistaken him for a native speaker.

Ivar's cheeks blazed and his brows furrowed in embarrassment at her silence.

"Did I say it wrong?" He mutters to himself, his mind going over the words he had practiced for weeks before summing up the courage to actually say them. "Fucking Heahmund." He growls the bishop's name in blame, lowering his head in defeat.

"No...you said it perfectly." Artemis chokes out, the fluttering feeling returning as it always did when she felt particularly shy. To say she was at a loss for words was an understatement. They both stared at each other for quite some time, eyes at war until Ivar shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

"Normally, an answer is given by now." He says, feeling the beginning sting of rejection.

"I...uh, you want me...as your wife?" She stumbles stupidly with her words, feeling quite incompetent, the Norse falling from her lips just like it did when she was first learning it.

"I would not have asked you if I didn't want you to be." He said, worrying his lip between his pointy teeth. The longer she took to respond, the more embarrassed he became and the anger began to rise.

"The choice is yours, but an answer would be nice." He growls out, his hands forming tight fists at his sides, shaking with the want to punch something, preferably the tree trunk he leaned against.

Leave it to Artemis to make him feel this way, completely vulnerable and open. He put his emotions at risk, and he should've known better than to just simply ask, as if everything could just fall into place. But that's exactly what he had been hoping for. With Artemis, things seemed to always fall into place, like they were always meant to be that way.

Naturally, a marriage proposal felt right. It was not a decision that he had come up with over night, no, he had deliberated it over and over and over again in his mind until he was sure that it was what he wanted.

And it was what he wanted.

Of course, he kept in mind the daughters of the visiting nobles. As king, it was his priority to sustain Kattegat and keep it flourishing as a trading capital, and a marriage alliance from a powerful family could increase the chances of gaining more power. It was until Ivar realized he didn't need to marry some girl who would never love him, for more power.

He had power.

Ivar was no simpleton. He was incredibly intelligent, blessed with the ability to strategize and understand the concept of running a kingdom. His charm and vivacious words were enough to have any potential ally join forces with him, and it could all be done without marriage.

His few advisors were against a non political marriage. Even Heahmund, his loyal shadow, agreed it would not work. Artemis was a foreigner, and a woman of a different faith. For a Christian to marry a heathen was unheard of, and as much as Heahmund had detested Artemis at first, he now presented himself as a brotherly figure to her. Heahmund disapproved.

But Ivar didn't care for any of that. Artemis was more than her views on divine beings. To him, she was perfect, a woman who overlooked his deformity; a talented craftsman with a fiery soul.

Fuck. He did truly love her.

And what could he do now but let those feelings overwhelm him, waiting for her to yes even though it seemed the answer was far from it.

The silence was killing him. She knew how to torture him in the worst way. His eyes began to sting uncomfortably, and he blinked rapidly, willing the wetness that pooled to go away. The rejection hurt. It hurt more than his stupid legs ever could.

He stares angrily at the river, rubbing at his eyes furiously, contemplating whether to crawl away and nurse his wounded pride.

"Ivar..." She says his name so softly that it seemed to be swept away by the gentle waters. His gaze lands on her, her features revealing uncertainty and fear, but in her eyes there was a spark of something that glimmered, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers.

She moves to face him, her hand tracing the angular shape of his jaw, now clenched tightly in frustration. Taking hold of his face gently in her hands, she places the sweetest kiss on his lips that had his eyes fluttering shut to revel in the moment. It was almost intoxicating, and could have escalated, but that kiss was meant to remain sweet and innocent.

She pulls away, much to Ivar's displeasure, earning a grunt from him. She stifles a laugh, placing her brow against his and taking in his scent. Pine leaves.

"Do you truly wish for me to be your wife?" She asks softly, moving back slightly at Ivar's gentle push so that he may gaze at her through half lid eyes.

"Only if you'll have me." He responds just as gently.

"I have nothing to offer you."

"You give me enough,"

"I've no dowry." Ivar sighs, running his fingers over the paths between his braids in irritation. Artemis was a master at conjuring excuses.

"I don't need it. And I don't need lands either, I have had enough meetings for a lifetime to settle alliances." He raises an eyebrow at her, waiting for another excuse.

"I am not a northerner."

"If I understand correctly, the kings of the south marry foreign women all the time. Why should this be any different?" Ivar was beginning to grow weary with her answers, turning his head away as if to keep her excuses at bay. "If you do not wish to marry me, then just say so." He spits out, ready to push her away from him and crawl away in defeat, but she was quicker than him.

She pushes him back against the tree with a hard thud before straddling him. He freezes, her bold movements having him intake a sharp breath. She quickly grabs his face again, pressing her lips to his with much more urgency than before. This time, there was nothing sweet about it, just a hunger that needed to be satiated, and Ivar complied, fisting his hand into her hair and kissing back with such intensity, that they were both gasping for air when they pulled away.

She laughs in between huffs, and Ivar grins, his own chest heaving. Placing his fingers under her chin to grab her attention, he poses the question again.

"Do you wish to be my wife?"

There was no more room for questions or excuses, or fear and hesitation, and finally, she smiles, answering with a gentle nod.

"I wish to hear you say it." He pleads, not able to hide the smile that lit up his features. His hands fall to her hips, squeezing her tightly, desperate for the words to leave her lips.

She rests her brow against his again, wrapping her arms around his neck, knowing he would pull her closer. She kisses him again, almost lazily, feeling his breath fanning over her. It drove her crazy. Pecking his lips once more, she pulls away just enough to whisper the words over his lips.

"I wish to be your wife."

...

@heavenly1927​ @didiintheblog​ @inforapound​ @ostra814​

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#ivar #ivar imagine #ivarxofc #ivarfanfiction #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings ivar #alex hogh andersen

[okageshadowkingfannovel]

Book 1: Chapter 2

The next night finds Ari and his curious family standing together in the living room. Framed ancestors peer down upon their descendants with haughty seriousness. A fire dances and crackles in the fireplace, driving away the chill seeping through the house’s bones and playing a snappy percussion to the family’s musings.

“Hmmm … the crest is … I think … hmmmm,” says Ari’s father, furiously rubbing his chin to redness in thought.

The family stands around the mysterious, moaning, moldy, still quite unopened bottle. The purple clashes violently with the swirling beige pattern of the antique rug and it starts to give Ari a headache. Ari’s mother giggles.

“You’re obsessed with that bottle, dear. You always did love antiques.”

Ari’s mother is too right. The whole family - mother, Ari, Annie, and even grandmother and grandfather - have been called into the living room to try and puzzle out the bottle with the unbudgeable cork. They have been standing there for at least an hour and a half.

“I still say we just smash it open,” Ari’s grandfather pipes up from the couch.

“Uh huh, uh huh, that’s right, honey.”

“No, no, Dad, this is no ordinary bottle. It’s special, so you have to open it in a special way.”

Ari’s father doesn’t see the dramatic eye roll making its way around the room.

“Oh! You know what?” Ari’s mother suddenly exclaims, “I just remembered. The circus is in the field tonight.”

“Hmmm, the circus,” muses Ari’s grandfather, “you know, I was in a circus before we got married. But back then, we were in true love. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Uh huh, uh huh, that’s right, honey.”

“Yes, yes, Dad, very romantic,” says Ari’s mother, “but Ari, Annie, why don’t you go and have fun?”

“Alright, Ma, see ya!”

With a whip of her perfectly set pigtails, Annie turns to run off.

“Oh! Annie! You shouldn’t go out alone at night. Go with your brother.”

As if waiting for this opportune moment, Annie looks over her shoulder and gives a triumphant smirk to her mother.

“It’s ok. Chad is picking me up. I’m going out on a date tonight.”

The words ‘Chad’ and ‘date’ wash over Ari’s mother like some divine tidal wave. She looks at her daughter, her eyes sparkling with joy and pride.

“Oh Annie! You’re going on a date! You’ve grown up! I’m so happy for you!”

But Annie is gone before the praises can even reach her. Ari’s mother collects herself with a few sniffles and a dab or two at her eyes with the end of her sleeve.

Ari turns to leave as well, but is stopped by his father.

“Ari, my son! Let’s talk for a while, boy!”

The phrase is saturated with paternal sentiment and Ari gets a brick like feeling in his stomach that this will take much, much longer than just ‘a while.’ Like the dutiful son that he is, Ari about faces and returns to his spot before the bottle, by his father’s side.

“Ahem, this bottle … this bottle,” his father begins.

“It’s pretty awesome,” says Ari half-heartedly, “I mean, the color … purple is so cool.”

“Oh! You can tell! Good! Listen, this crest on the bottle.” His father gestures vaguely at the tangled design. “If my theory is correct, this crest is in the shape of the tail of the Rainbow Rat that only comes out by moonlight, namely …”

“Oh, um, and?”

His father carries on, speaking quickly and unleashing all the excitement that has been building ever since he found the ridiculous bottle with the long back story. To his credit, Ari sincerely tries to understand his father’s retelling of the bottle saga, but he can only catch and fathom every fifth sentence or so.

“… Among those ancient rituals is …”

“… and the curve of the handle is …”

“… foretold by the shoelace weaver …”

“… with the proper harmonics …”

“… all you need is a little garlic …”

“… at 200 degrees for an hour …”

“… No, wait, let me see …”

“… Then, yes! No … no …”

“Then, it’s simple quantum physics.”

Some time later, the question “do you understand, son?” reaches Ari and it takes the boy a minute to realize he’s actually meant to respond to something.

Ari glances at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace.

Two hours have passed.

The rest of the family has disappeared and the fire has shrunk to embers.

“Oh, th-the circus …” leaves Ari’s mouth.

“Huh? Circus? Oh, the circus! Yes, the circus was tonight, I remember. Well, don’t just stand there. Go and have some fun, boy! We can talk more about this tomorrow.”

“Thanks, dad,” Ari says quickly before launching himself out of the living room.

He throws himself out the front door into a dark, cool night. The moon is full and golden yellow, hanging high in a star filled sky. It’s all quiet save for crickets and the breeze rustling the trees and Ari’s harsh panting as he runs. Ari leaps down the stone path to the front gate, hoping he hasn’t missed it. Maybe he can catch the grand finale. That’s always the best part anyway. Maybe he’ll be able to find Julia.

Following the pale moonlit path, he comes to the crossroads and turns towards Tenel Field. There’s a clearing off to the right from the path, tucked away in Tenel Forest. Usually, all that sits there is an old stone circle with a massive pillar sticking up out of the middle. It’s ancient and harmless and it doesn’t take up a great amount of space. Tonight, it would be joined by a massive tent and loads of people and the sounds of an amazing performance.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who’s there?”

Ari stops and suddenly notices the sentry standing guard. He must’ve gone too far and missed the clearing.

“Geez,you scared me, kid,” says the man on sentry duty. He’s a skinny, pale young man that looks barely able to stop a squirrel, let alone a ghost.

“Sorry,” Ari wheezes.

“Anyway, it’s dangerous to go out there at night,” he says, gesturing behind him, “man, I can’t believe I got this shift tonight when the circus is in town.”

“Right, sorry.”

Ari turns and runs back to where the clearing should be. Somehow, he had run right past the banner hovering ghost-like over the smaller pathway leading into the clearing. As he draws closer to the hulking black silhouette of the circus tent, it strikes Ari how quiet it is. There is no laughter or cheering or the thunder of applause. There’s not even the babble of chitchat as people spill out into the night and head home. Ari’s heart sinks.

Before the yawning entrance to the darkened circus tent stand Levi, Julia, and, off to the side, a short, portly man with a thick black mustache and a tall top hat. Assuredly the ringmaster, he looks incredibly tired and drained. Ari trots to a defeated halt in front of his friends.

“Oh, Ari,” starts Julia, distracted by the sound of Ari’s exhausted panting, “good evening.”

“Hey Ari, what’s going on? The circus is over.” It can’t be seen in the dark, but the smugness on Levi’s face drips into his words. “Ha ha ha! You’re such a loser! You always miss out!”

Ari looks at Julia and tries to make out the expression on her face in the dark, dark night, but he finds it unreadable. She doesn’t say a word.

“Anyway, come on, Julia. I know a place with a great view. Let’s take a walk. We’ll see you later, Ari.”

“Um … bye, Ari,” Julia whispers as she and Levi circle round him to stroll on down the path.

For a moment, Ari watches their figures disappear into the dark. He wonders if he should have said something. But then, if so, what could he have said. He sighs, his lungs still aching from his race to the clearing.

“Ah, nothing beats a drink after work!”

Ari looks to see the pudgy ringmaster tilting his head back and raising an ambiguous looking bottle to give himself a long drink. After a long and fairly impressive moment, the ringmaster finally lowers the bottle and punctuates with a hiccup, a burp, and a satisfied sigh. Then, the ringmaster turns a bit.

“Huh? Hey kiddo, circus is already over,” says the ringmaster in a not unkind manner.

“Yeah, I figured,” says Ari gloomily.

“By the way, …” The ringmaster takes a few steps closer.

Ari can suddenly detect the smell of popcorn, peanuts, sweat, and high proof drink clouding off of the ringmaster’s person. By the light of the moon, he can suddenly see the polka dots on the man’s tie and vest and a strange haunted look in the man’s large, round eyes.

“Kid, did you know that your spirit seems a bit … I dunno, overshadowed?”

Ari gives an exasperated huff. “Yeah, I guess.” The social tragedy of tonight weighs heavily on him, and Ari is not really in the mood.

“Everybody tells you that, huh?” The ringmaster fidgets the bottle in his hand, making the liquid inside slosh and swirl.

“Yeah, thanks for bringing it up.”

“Ha ha ha, calm down, kid. I don’t mean to rattle your chain.” The ringmaster’s demeanor suddenly takes on an air of concern. “But, watch yourself. Stay strong, kiddo. Heh heh heh.”

The ringmaster ends with a hearty chuckle and another long swig from his bottle.

“Right,” says Ari as he turns to walk back up the path, “have a good night, sir.”

“Will do, boy, heh heh,” calls the ringmaster, “take care!”

With hands in pockets, Ari slowly makes his way back to the main path and heads towards the crossroads. As he walks, his mind fills and drowns with all the ‘overshadowed’ business that always seems to buzz around him. Heck, even the ringmaster, a complete stranger, picked it off him in barely the blink of an eye. Is he really so ordinary, so unmemorable, so unnoticeable?

Overshadowed?

What a crappy night.

“Omigod!”

Ari looks up from his shoes. The cry came from just up ahead at the crossroads. It sounded like Annie’s voice.

He breaks into a run. Just in front of the directional sign, Ari catches two human figures - one standing and one lying on the ground. And then, looming over them …

“Oh no! It’s-it’s-it’s a ghost! It’s a ghost!”

A huge misty white cloud with glowing yellow eyes bobs up and down over the couple like a drunken fish.

“Somebody! Help!”

The standing figure suddenly goes running back towards town, leaving the other still lying motionless on the ground, at the mercy of the wandering specter. The realization punches Ari in the stomach and he feels the blood drain from his face. That’s Annie lying on the ground.

Without thinking, he charges the ghost, a guttural yell ripping from his throat.

To his surprise, this actually works.

The yellow eyes fall on the screaming boy and widen in what might be surprise. Mid-bob, it spins round fast and drifts off into the trees, fading away into the night air and the dark.

“Ari?” Suddenly, his father is running down the path from the house. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Unable to get the words out, Ari crashes to his knees beside his sister. He puts out his hands, but is afraid to touch her.

“Annie? Oh god, Annie!”

His father gets down beside him and gently touches the girl’s small shoulders.

“Annie? Can you hear me? This is your father. Annie! Open your eyes!”

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 • Chapter 10 • Chapter 11 • Chapter 12 • Chapter 13 • Chapter 14 • Chapter 15 • Chapter 16 - Finale

NOTE: Okage Shadow King is owned by Sony Computer Entertainment and Zener Works. This novelization is purely a fan-work and the writer claims no ownership over the characters, general plot line(s), etc.

#okage shadow king #osk #boku to maō #playstation 2 #novelization #video games #writing #fiction #fanfiction

[searchingwardrobes]

Until the Day Breaks and the Shadows Flee: 1/8

Here it is, my second contribution to the @cssns! I am really excited about this one because the story of Cupid and Psyche is my favorite myth, and I’ve been contemplating this fic since we first heard of the Underworld arc. Since CS spends all their time in the dark and in bed, this ended up being the steamiest story I’ve ever written. It’s not smut (that’s what my beta and I concluded, anyway), but it goes right up to the line. I must warn you, however, that you’ll have to endure a few chapters of slow burn first. I hope you all enjoy it!

A thousand thank yous to my beta @snowbellewells who is graciously still doing her thing even though she just had to go back to work at her teaching job because I last minute decided to make this an MC. And thanks also to @hollyethecurious for the gorgeous artwork that really sums up this story so well!

Summary: Every night, she traces the contours of his body as Killian whispers words of love against her skin. But can Princess Emma ever be fully happy with a husband who only comes to her in utter darkness? A Captain Swan AU of the Roman myth of Cupid and Psyche.

** I’m also curious if anyone knows where the fic and chapter titles come from. Drop me and ask if you have a guess!**

Rating: M for sexual situations

Words: about 3,000 in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list): @kday426 @jennjenn615 @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @kmomof4 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @shireness-says @wellhellotragic @distant-rose @mythologicalmango @optomisticgirl @xhookswenchx @branlovestowrite @ultraluckycatnd @vvbooklady1256 @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @ohmakemeahercules @gingerchangeling @nikkiemms @revanmeetra87 @cocohook38

Chapter One: On the Rugged Mountain

The procession making its way down the streets of Misthaven was beautiful in a macabre sort of way. It was led by chanting priests in black hooded robes swinging orbs of burning incense. Behind them, Queen Snow and King David rode in an open carriage draped in black satin and drawn by a team of chestnut horses. They were both decked in mourning clothes of black, the queen’s face covered by a lace veil. Behind them was another carriage, this one drawn by two white horses. This one was closed, dark curtains pulled shut. Yet everyone knew who was inside, dressed in the wedding gown that should have been worn in celebration. The townspeople lowered their heads as it passed, some dabbing silently at their tears. Bringing up the rear of the procession were the ladies of the court, also dressed in garments of mourning. The only sounds apart from the clip-clop of the horses and the creaking of the carriage wheels came from them: deep wails of grief accompanied at times by the warbly singing of an old folk song about a maiden wed to death himself.

At the village gates, the priests and mourning maidens abandoned the procession, standing before a throng of villagers. The silence that had fallen amongst the people remained until the royal carriages crested a hill and were no longer in sight.

On these two carriages traveled, cloaked in silence. Even the king and queen were at a loss for words to comfort one another, and their daughter had requested to be left alone for the journey.

Finally, the carriages rumbled to a stop at the top of a misty hill. It was rumored to be filled with monsters and lesser gods and goddesses whose constant turmoil created the rumblings of thunder and flashes of lightning upon its peak.

King David helped his wife down from the carriage, then went to assist his daughter. Yet the door opened before he could lend his hand, and Emma alighted on her own, her face pale yet determined, her back straight.

“Emma,” her mother said, a sob rising in her throat, “you don’t have to do this.”

The princess’s stony expression softened slightly at her mother’s tears. “Yes, I do. What is my life compared to that of our entire kingdom?”

Snow let her tears go then, clasping her daughter in a desperate embrace. David enveloped both his girls, his hand coming up to cup the back of his daughter’s head. It seemed only yesterday he was rocking her to sleep after a midnight feeding. He kissed the top of her forehead before releasing her with a trembling smile, his eyes awash with tears.

Emma clasped the pure white fabric of her gown in both fists. “You know what the oracle said. You must leave me here alone.”

Snow practically collapsed in her husband’s arms as he led her away. Emma watched both royal carriages rumble back down the hill, her courage fleeing with them. Once they were out of sight completely, she fell in a heap upon the ground. She was surprised, however, when tears didn’t come. She supposed she’d had time to accept her fate.

The mist turned to a thick fog, and she wondered if she would die quickly before seeing the monster approach. She closed her eyes and awaited her “groom.” A virginal sacrifice to sate the hunger of a beast and save a kingdom. It was an old story, wasn’t it?

***************************************************

Emma had imagined many gruesome scenarios since she learned that she was destined to be the “bride” of a hideous creature. Yet in none of those tableaus had she imagined that she would get bored waiting for the damn thing to show up. Yet here she was, going out of her mind wondering how much time had passed. She curled up on the ground, using the long train of her dress as a makeshift pillow. She didn’t expect to sleep, but suddenly she was jolted awake by the hot sun on her face.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, amazed to see the green hill, dotted with the most beautiful roses she had ever seen, and the sky bright and blue above her. The fog was rolling away, revealing such amazing beauty as it went. Then the fog revealed something even more unbelievable, and Emma’s jaw dropped.

Right before her was a huge, glittering castle. It was of white stone, with angels on every buttress and turret instead of gargoyles. Every bit of filigree and trim around its windows and doors was done in gold. Emma scrambled to her feet, in complete awe. As if the castle itself knew she was awake, its gates swung open. Emma hesitated for a moment, part of her wondering if she were still sleeping, and another part worrying that it was a trick, but a tug in her core seemed to pull her towards the castle.

She went through the open gates, marveling further at the beauty that surrounded her. A path of white marble cut through a garden filled with flowers of every hue. They seemed more vibrant than any Emma had ever seen, and butterflies and hummingbirds flitted around them by the dozens.

Just like the gates, the doors of the castle swung open of their own accord. Emma made her way up steps also of pure white marble. The marble extended into the foyer of the castle, yet as the door gently closed behind her, the feeling enveloping her was one of warmth. Despite the cool stone beneath her feet, the wooden banister of the spiral staircase was a comforting mahogany, and the plush furnishings made her long to curl up and take a nap.

“Hello?” she called out tentatively.

In response, Emma heard giggling and childlike chatter.

“You were supposed to greet her at the door!”

“Well, you were supposed to be watching from the second floor balcony.”

“Hush, both of you, you’ll scare her!”

At first, Emma couldn’t figure out where the voices were coming from. Then she noticed glittering balls of colored light bouncing and floating all around her. If the accompanying voices hadn’t sounded so delightful, she might have been frightened.

The orbs began to grow and lengthen, and Emma could make out three distinct colors: green, purple, and red. Then she was able to see wings, then the tiny creatures attached to them.

“Fairies!” Emma exclaimed with a smile.

The orbs faded, and then three young women were delicately landing upon the marble floor in front of her. The first had blonde hair like Emma’s, pulled into a loose bun on the top of her head. Her dress looked as if it were made of green leaves.

“I’m Tinkerbell,” she said with a curtsy, “and I take care of the flowers in the garden and will also be your cook.”

The second fairy had long dark hair plaited in two braids, an olive colored complexion, and large brown eyes. Her dress was made of soft deerskin dyed with indigo and decorated with intricate beading.

“I’m Tiger Lily, and we all take care of the flowers, Tink.”

Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing at the dark haired fairy’s obvious irritation with the blonde.

The red-head giggled fondly at her fellow fairies, then addressed Emma. “I am Ariel, and I am to be your chambermaid.” Then she gasped and lowered into a deep curtsy. “I mean, your majesty.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open in surprise as the other two fairies curtsied as well. “I, I don’t understand -”

“We are here to wait upon you,” Tiger Lily explained, “at our master’s command.”

“Your . . . master?”

“Of course!” Tink exclaimed, clapping her hands merrily, “You are his bride, after all.”

Dread flooded through Emma’s veins. Being sacrificed to a monster was one thing, actually being married to one was quite another. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

“And . . . who is your master?”

Ariel giggled, and Emma was suddenly weary of the blonde and redhead’s exuberance. At least Tiger Lily seemed more sedate.

“We can’t tell you that!” Ariel exclaimed, as if it were a silly question.

Tiger Lily reached out and grasped Emma’s hands. “You are home now, m’lady, that is all you need know. All will be provided for you; anything and everything your heart desires.”

“But,” she bit upon her lower lip, “when will I meet my . . . husband?” She tried not to choke on the word.

For the first time, Tink looked solemn. “You won’t see him much, I’m afraid. He has many responsibilities. He is away from the castle now, and he gave no word of when he would be back.”

Emma frowned and pulled her hands out of Tiger Lily’s grip. “What kind of being is he? A cyclops? A chimera? What?”

All three fairies burst into giggles - apparently Tiger Lily could be silly too - and without answering, they transformed back into pixies. They dipped and swirled as they darted around Emma’s head in a most annoying fashion.

“Whatever you wish to eat will be served in the dining hall,” Tink’s voice called out.

Emma sighed as the fairies disappeared. She hugged her middle and did a cautious turn, taking in her ornate, exquisitely lovely surroundings. Well, she was hungry, and pork chops with gravy and roasted potatoes would really hit the spot . . .

Scarcely were the thoughts formed when she smelled something delicious down the hallway at the east end of the castle. She followed it, easily finding the dining hall, spread with a feast of all her favorite foods. She wondered for a moment if it could be poisoned, but her growling stomach won out in the end and she sat down to pile her plate high.

Even captive Princesses forced into marriages with beasts had to eat, after all.

************************************************************************

Ariel chattered excitedly as she showed Emma around her new chambers. They were gorgeous, Emma had to admit, with a large, ornate bed surrounded by exquisite tapestries. Emma longed to draw them around her and sink into the inviting bed piled high with soft pillows.

“Now this,” Ariel said, flitting across the room, “is the master’s favorite part.”

She flung open the French doors that lead out onto a spacious balcony, but Emma latched onto a single word. Her heart plummeted, and the last thing she cared about was a balcony with a view.

“The master’s? This . . . these are his chambers?”

Ariel turned to face her, head tilted innocently. “Of course. I mean . . . they are yours now, too. Yours and his. The . . . marital suite?”

The fairy was wringing her hands now, her face slightly pale. She turned to shut the French doors and pulled yet another tapestry across it. Avoiding Emma’s gaze, she went about the room lighting several candelabra. Then she opened the wardrobe, pulled out a long satin gown and laid it out on the bed.

“So the master will be sleeping here as well? That’s what you’re saying?” Emma demanded, stepping close to Ariel.

Her maid turned slowly to face her. “Yes. I mean, he is your husband after all.”

Emma clasped her hands together as they began to shake and took in a deep breath. She would not succumb to fear now, not when her kingdom was in danger. She released the air in her lungs and tried to force her pulse to slow.

“And when shall he return?”

Ariel shook her head, a look of apology upon her face. “I’m sorry, but one can never tell.” She bit her lip for a moment, then smiled encouragingly at Emma as she grasped her hands. “You have nothing to fear, Princess, I promise you.”

Easy for a fairy to say, Emma thought dryly. She wasn’t sharing a bed with . . . whatever the master was.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Ariel asked.

“No. I just wish to be alone.”

As soon as Ariel’s footsteps faded out into the hallway, Emma sank onto the bed, finding it just as soft and inviting as she had imagined. She lay sideways, curled in on herself, eyeing the satin gown disdainfully. The cloth looked light as air and far more comfortable than the wedding gown she still wore, yet it had thin ribbons for straps and a plunging neckline, clearly a garment meant for seduction. She simply wouldn’t wear it.

Try as she might, however, she couldn’t get comfortable in her cumbersome gown. Frustrated, she leapt up and stomped over to the wardrobe. Inside, she found a collection of beautiful gowns, and in the back, a collection of nightgowns. She grumbled when she found that they were all in the same style, simply in different colors. Black, red, and pink didn’t seem any better than white, so she returned to the bed and began removing her dress. As she struggled with the corset, she wished she had asked Ariel for her help after all, but eventually she was slipping the simple satin garment over her head. It slid against her bare skin deliciously, and Emma sighed in contentment. She crossed over to the vanity and removed the crown of flowers pinned in her hair, running her fingers through her long locks.

A shiver ran down her spine as she crawled into the giant bed, pulling three of the four tapestries closed. On the open side, she kept the last candelabra burning, the encroaching darkness causing panic to crawl across her skin. She slipped beneath the covers, hoping against hope that the master wouldn’t be returning for their “wedding night.”

He didn’t even bother to see me in my wedding dress, Emma thought sarcastically to herself. She started to laugh bitterly, but then an image rose in her brain of being chased through the halls of the castle by a lust-enraged dragon or minotaur, and it turned into a hysterical half-sob.Then the blood froze in her veins at a creaking sound on the other side of the closed tapestries. Did someone just enter through the balcony doors?

The lights in the candelabra by her bed burned lower in an unnatural way, and Emma’s pulse quickened. She scrambled to the head of the bed, fisting the sheets and blankets at her chin. Was this when the monster would come? Had he been toying with her all this time?

A rush of air blew through the room, extinguishing all the light. The tapestries around the bed, which had seemed so luxurious when she first entered the chamber, now felt like heavy walls trapping her in. She held her breath, straining to hear, but it was useless against the pounding of her heart. She sensed his presence more than anything when he reached the bed, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Not that it made a difference in the pitch-black room.

“I won’t lay a hand on you.” His voice was deep, yet gentle.

Emma opened her eyes but still didn’t relax her posture. “I find that difficult to believe considering this,” she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “is our wedding night.”

She felt the bed dip and pulled her feet up hastily.

“Believe it or not, I speak the truth. You can trust me.”

Emma squinted in the darkness, trying to see his face.

“You won’t be able to see me,” he told her calmly.

“Then how can you expect me to trust you?” she shot back, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.

He surprised her by chuckling in a low, warm tone.

She licked her dry lips. “What kind of monster are you?”

“I’m not a monster,” he answered simply.

She eased forward hesitantly. “Then you’re human?”

“I . . . didn’t say that either.” She heard him pull in a deep breath. “Listen, all you need know is that you are safe and the plague that was ravishing your kingdom is over.”

Emma bit her lower lip. “But you expect something in return?”

“The only thing I ask is what you are willing to give.”

Emma fell back on her pillows in exasperation. “You speak in riddles just like the oracle!”

There was that chuckle again. “They do like to be mysterious, don’t they?”

Now that she was lounging upon her pillows, Emma released the sheets from her grip as well. “So what are we doing, exactly? You say you won’t touch me, so why are you here?”

“You are still my bride, that much is true, and like any groom, I wish to get to know you.”

“Most grooms do that before the wedding.”

He laughed again, and the sound was actually becoming relaxing. She wriggled down beneath the covers and attempted to stifle a yawn.

“You’ve had a long day,” he said gently. “How about tomorrow night you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Emma hesitated, her body tensing involuntarily. As if he could see her reaction, he hastily spoke again.

“Rest assured, I will not touch you without your consent. Ever.”

Emma swallowed, wanting to believe him, but unsure if she should. “Okay, I suppose tomorrow night we can talk. On one condition?”

He hesitated, and it sounded as if he were clearing his throat. “Within reason. That’s all I can promise you.”

“Tell me your name.”

She could literally hear his body sag in relief. And was it possible to hear someone smile?

“That is easy, love. Please call me Killian.”

“Killian,” she repeated, almost testing it on her tongue. “I like it.”

“I rather fancy it myself.” Yes, he was definitely smiling.

A pleasant breeze blew through the tapestries, and then the candles flickered back to life. Her new husband was gone.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2019 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs au #cupid and psyche au #myth #enchanted forest au #slow burn

[mysticsparklewings]

One in Billions

I mentioned in the description of Sparkle by the Sea that I'd been lacking in artistic motivation since NaPoWriMo ended. Fortunately, I think that drive to create has finally come back...unfortunately about the time it came back, the internet exploded once again and reminded me, even more, of why I hate social media, and thus I withdrew again for the sake of my mental health, in case you were wondering what happened to me. I sincerely hope this time I can come back and stay back for a while, but we'll see I guess. In fact, this is not the first piece of art I've made since vanishing into thin air (in fact it's currently the last), and it's not my first re-introduction to acrylics since Fly By the Moon either. Granted, that doesn't mean I've been acrylic painting nonstop or anything, I just thought it was worth mentioning for the sake of clarity. But regardless, I wanted to have this one posted before the end of the month, and just like last time I'm just barely squeezing it in. (I believe the monthly challenge for June is Junicorn or something like that? That's part of why, though not the only reason.) To be quite honest, there's not a whole lot to describe about the process of making this, as it was fairly simple a straightforward. (How unusual for me, no? ) I started by foolishly using my lightbox to transfer my unicorn sketch that was based on a wooden Christmas ornament (though I did change a few details, most notably the tail--I changed it to be more like the style from The Last Unicorn) to one of the 8"x10" canvases I've had lying around for some time. I say foolishly because I really should have known it would be completely gone by the time I finished blending my color scheme of choice--black, gray/silver, white, and purple--on top into a galaxy-ish fashion. (Feel free to guess what the significance of the color scheme is supposed to be ) Fortunately, I prepared for that ahead of time by transferring my sketch also onto a smaller piece of paper I could scribble with a Faber Castell gelato on the back of to transfer the design back on top of the paint and using some tape to align it with my original placement on a funny little tape-hinge I could fold behind the canvas while I wasn't using it. Which, as tedious of a process as it was to arrange the hinge, if I remember I'll try to use that method going forward, especially for paintings where I might need to re-apply the design more than one. (I struggled with this a bit on a painting I haven't posted yet.) The painting part went like this: Put paint on, blend it out, put more paint on, wonder why it's not blending out the way I want, add water and/or dab at it with a napkin to help blend, put paint on, blend it out, repeat. And then at one point, I had to stop and carefully paint over a couple of spots where I'd been so heavy-handed with my blending that I'd actually stripped a few small holes into the paint and there was just naked canvas poking through. Then I had to blend on top of those spots once they dried because I couldn't color match exactly.   Many hours of blending paint out and waiting for it to dry later, I was finally happy with what I accomplished and thus it was time to move on to the unicorn. As I alluded to, I used the faux-transfer paper method that I've used before with a gelato, and then I used a white acrylic marker (a tool I will talk about in greater detail some other time) to make the outline and constellation-thingy inside the lines bolder. Then I filled it in with some cheaper white acrylic paint that's more transparent...Mostly because I have plenty of said white paint and I really didn't feel like having to cover the whole thing with pastel to give it the foggy/misty appearance I was looking for. I waited for that to dry, then went back over the lines with my white gel pen to make them pop a bit more. Then I went to splatter-town with some white gouache. (So far I have the best luck using gouache for such things. And in this case, it has the added benefit that I could wipe it off with water if I got too much since the acrylic underneath is waterproof, which I took full advantage of.) My next step was to add some pointed stars via the white gel pen, as per usual. Originally, that was going to be the end, but I was a little sad at how much of the purple in the background I'd ended up obscuring in some way. So, after learning that manually dotting in some more purple with a gel pen was a laughable idea, I made a mask for the unicorn to keep her as white/pure/whatever as possible, and then splattered away with some purple gouache, too. The mask wasn't quite a perfect match, so I did have to go back in with gel pen to the lines one more time. But that's alright because I remembered I wanted to try using PanPasteel for a bit of a glow effect. Which sort of worked, but it's hard to tell on the final version because I wanted it to blend out as smoothly as possible, which means I ended up blending/wiping a lot of it clean off.   Still, I'm very happy with how the final product came out. Now I just need to find a place to display it, because that was something I had in mind when I started making it. It's a bit different for me, this painting format, but it worked out and there's a good chance I'll be making another one in a similar style as a gift for a friend sometime in the future, which I'm looking forward to. It also just feels good to have finished this, as (though you guys haven't seen) it feels like I've been working on a lot of projects either not for me, or not just because I genuinely want to make them lately. This is just a little something for me and me alone at its core. As I said at the top of the description and as I'll continue to say until something changes, I'm hoping I'll be getting back to posting a little more consistently and being more consistently present now, but I can't make any promises. At the very least, I can promise you I do have some fun art waiting in the wings for when that does happen. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram 

#junicorn

[markerpop]

New Post has been published on MarkerPOP Blog

New Post has been published on http://blog.markerpop.com/2017/09/08/boo-3/

Boo....

Happy Friday everyone… Who’s ready for the weekend? Today I have a Cute Halloween card using the Boo set from Waffleflower Crafts. This is another Big Bear and Bird collaboration and they have the sweetest images.

I created a background with some Wilted Violet Distress Oxide inks and the Cloud Border stencil from My Favorite Things on a piece of Tim Holtz Distress Watercolor paper. I die cut a post it note to create a circle template and created the cloud with some Hickory Smoke Distress Ink. I added some water splatters to the background and dabbed the excess with a paper towel creating the distressed look. Once it was dry I used the retired Blueprints #15 Die-namics from MFT to die cut it the panel.

I stamped all of the images onto some Bristol smooth cardstock using Ranger Archival Black ink and the Mini Misti. Then I colored the images in with Distress Markers in the following colors: Black Soot, Hickory Smoke, Tea Dye, Wilted Violet, Vintage Photo, Scattered Straw, Carved Pumpkin & Spun Sugar. I moved the color around with the Nuvo Aqua Flow Water brushes. I used the coordinating Boo dies to cut the images out and adhered them to the panel with some foam tape.

I stamped the sentiment in the lower corner with some Black ink and adhered the panel to a Black A2 size card base. I wanted a little bit of sparkle so I added some Nuvo drops in White Blizzard to the hat, Bat wings and Ghost cheeks. When using the drops as an accent rather than creating dots, you want to spread it around so it’s just a thin layer and it will dry flat.

You can find more details on how I created this card in the video below!

Thanks for stopping by today.. Have a great weekend!