and look at his arms twisting his sword

anonymous asked:

I could totally see Ignis' and his S/O's child going back in time so Ignis actually has a chance to see them before he gets injured. And angst and fluff and all that goodness.

It has been requested! 

Alright, hold on to your seats, kiddos. This one may arguably hurt more than the last. I have a request to do Gladio as well. If there’s any Prompto lovers out there, speak up now or forever hold your peace!

You can read Noctis HERE


{2,237 words}



When you meet him it’s of less than ideal circumstances, but you suppose that was the point.

It’s during the heat of a nasty battle, an impromptu ambush, but deadly all the same. Three MT units had swooped down from above in the dead of night above your campsite. Gladio had been the first to notice, bellowing a rousing warning to the rest of you, but it still didn’t ensure you all were on you’re A game’s. It was a ‘relax and recovery’ kind of night— one that was spent mending wounds from the fort you had infiltrated the day before.

None of you had been ready for the backlash.

MT assassins are swinging left and right with their mechanical arms and harsh robotic swipes. Dozens of blades cut through the air, creating an echo of turbulence all around you that’s so inorganic, you feel as though you’re in a hazy dream. One glance around you shows that everyone is struggling to hold their own, for each MT that’s cut down, there’s another to replace it.

Keep reading

Burn Your Fears Away

“You can fight me and watch your friends die,” Valentine said.

Alec tasted blood.

He watched Jace’s eyes flit from him to Clary to Isabelle, all around the room the Circle members had dragged them to. The seraph blade’s medal pressed a dangerous chill to his neck and Alec saw Jace stare at it.

Magnus shifted beside him. “Ah, just as dramatic as I remember,” he said.

All eyes turned to the warlock. Alec’s burned as he tried to get a good look at him, trying to warn him to stop even as he bit back the words on his tongue.

Valentine’s cold eyes swept over Magnus’s face before he shifted his stance, resting his blade in front of him with his hands folded over the hilt. He smiled.

“Magnus Bane,” Valentine said. “It has been a while.”

Magnus tilted his head to the side just so, racking his eyes over Valentine’s body. “It doesn’t feel that long ago to me,” he said, “but it must to you. You did always look quite like a potato, but I must say you haven’t aged well.”

Isabelle made a choked sound, Simon’s jaw all but hit the ground. Jace’s mismatched eyes grew three times their size and Clary ducked her chin towards the Circle members arm, hiding a smile.

The Circle member that held his blade to Magnus’ throat jerked him roughly, pressing the sword even closer.

“Mag –” Alec hissed, but Magnus twisted slightly, sending him a warning look.

Valentine let out a little laugh, taking a step forward. “And you look ever the same,” he sneered. “How’s the wound I gave you last time we met? Healing well? I know even you foul warlocks have a hard time fixing damage done by seraph blades.”

Keep reading

a salty teens au (2/?)

part one

Jon woke the next morning determined. To talk to Sansa; apologize for his actions the day previous; to make a concerted effort to get to know her in the week before they would be tied together as husband and wife, for the rest of his – their – days.

Of course, it was easy to want to do all those things. It was easy to look out his window and scheme and plan and consider all the ways to win Sansa Stark’s favor well and truly. Instead, he found himself doing everything but enacting his hastily drawn redemption plan, biding his time in the training yards and far, far away from the pristine passageways where his betrothed roamed.

Keep reading

xionroxas  asked:

Okay, okay, I've read a lot, I mean it, A LOT of scenarios, headcannons, stories, etc., about chocobros x reader and stuff like that, so... What if... The s/o confesses their feelings for a chocobro, he rejectes them, and then other chocobro developes, confesses or whatever, his feelings for them, maybe even a little fight or argument due to how the first chocobro could reject them. Am I expressing correctly??? PD. I like your writing so much!!! And... I love Prompto!!!

Okay, so this is round 2 and I really hope this is more of what you had in mind. I do seriously love me some sweet Prompto but I also love me some badass Prompto. So…idk I did both. Anyways, I hope you like this! 

Word Count: 2146


Keep reading

Ubbe Ragnarsson X Reader

Ivar was following you. He kept on crawling after you and at the beginning you’d acknowledge him and talk to him. But now you couldn’t be bothered. You knew he was behind you it you didn’t turn around, as you purposely took the most difficult routes through the forest.

“Y/n, I will just keep on following you.” Ivar laughed, still close behind you.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone Ivar? You know I’m with Ubbe.” You glanced back at him and he smiled.

“Because I want you.” He said simply and you groaned. Catching sight of the Ragnarsson’s training up ahead. “Just in time for a sword fight. Bet you’ll be looking a my skill.”

“I bet I’d beat you. I’ve been to war and fought but you have never been off this island.” You snarled.

“Someone’s a bit angry today!” Ivar announced. “Am I mistaken in asking if it is your time of the month.”

Keep reading

Rewritten, Chapter 13: Link Alone

Read this on or Ao3  ➜

He was dreaming. A divine golden light, glittering but out of reach, sat in his mind. And a voice, so familiar but completely strange, piercing through the deep, heavy silence.

“Open your eyes.”

The voice repeated a couple times. He slowly lifted his eyelids.

“Wake up, Link.”

Keep reading

How To Win A Duel (Edmund x Reader)

I hope y'all enjoy this imagine! Send me an ask to let me know! I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors.


(Y/N)’s long dagger fell to the floor. Breathing heavily, she glared at the person who had disarmed her for the ninth time. Edmund smirked.

She and Edmund had been practicing for a good two hours now. It started off with Edmund showing her a few new moves, which quickly turned into a dueling competition. Edmund, not surprisingly, was winning.

It’s not that (Y/N) was bad at sword fighting-she was actually quite good at it-it’s just that she was trying to beat the best swordsman of the age. And happened to be failing at it.

It also didn’t help that Edmund had taught her everything she knew about sword fighting. Nor did it help that he was ambidextrous and could fight with two swords (something that caused (Y/N) to say he had to fight with just one sword after he beat her the third time).

She hasn’t learned to use two simultaneously the way Edmund does, but she’s learned how fight with her left hand. Although, she is still stronger when using her right hand.

But Edmund was still better. Still winning. And that made (Y/N) mad.

“Okay, (Y/N).” Edmund said panting, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. The front of his tunic was drenched in sweat and his now wet hair was sticking to his forehead. “I think that’s enough.”

“What?” (Y/N) asked breathing just as heavily and looking just as disheveled as they walked back to a table containing towels and water, “You want to stop? Too tired? Or too scared that I’ll win the next one?”

Edmund let out laugh as he wiped his face with a towel. “You’re not going to win, (Y/N). Not yet at least.”

(Y/N) huffed. She never liked it when someone said she couldn’t do something. Yes, she knew she couldn’t beat him because he was simply better and more experienced at it than she was, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

What she needed was a move he hadn’t taught her, a new move, something unexpected. Then a thought came to her.

She blushed the minute she thought of it and was glad that her face was already red from the exercise.

She grabbed a glass of water and drank it while discreetly looking at Edmund over the rim.

She has liked him for some time now. She used to convince herself that it was simply the way siblings love each other; the way she felt for all the Pevensies. But she realized it was something more when the princesses from other countries began to come seeking Edmund’s love. Making (Y/N) want to grow her nails long simply to claw their eyes out.

But she didn’t know if Edmund felt the same. Sure, Lucy would tease her by saying Edmund liked her but that didn’t mean anything.

What it would have benefitted (Y/N) to know is that Edmund did, in fact, like her. Loved her even. He discovered just how strong his feelings were when a Duke made a move on (Y/N).

He had felt a bubbling sensation in his chest, one he later realized was jealousy, when the Duke began to slip his arm around her waist. Followed by a great sense of relief when (Y/N) turned and punched him when he refused to leave her alone.

But (Y/N) didn’t know this. She never saw the looks he gave her. The special smile he had just for her. (Y/N) was too busy worrying that they were simply friends and nothing more.

But, if she did use this move she would definitely win the next fight. And maybe walk out of here with a boyfriend.

Or with no friend.

Still, she had to try.

Steeling her nerves she turned to Edmund and said, “One more duel. That’ll make and even ten that we’ve done and gives me one last chance to win.”

“Fine,” Edmund sighed, setting his cup back down.

They walked back to the middle of the floor. Both stood in their starting positions until Edmund made the first move.

He swung at her from the right, which (Y/N) quickly blocked before taking a jab at him from the center. Edmund swung his sword back down, quickly blocking her blow and twisting his sword so as to flick (Y/N)’s dagger out of her hand. (Y/N) blocked and made another jab.

This continued for another minute or so when (Y/N) decided to try her next move.

With a quick flick of her wrist, (Y/N) acted as if she would try to twist the sword out of his arm from the side-a move that would bring them chest to chest.

When Edmund expertly blocked it (typical), (Y/N) quickly turned her head and placed her lips on his.

Edmund froze. (Y/N) quickly used his shock as an opportunity to flick his sword out of his hand. She stepped back, breathing heavily, searching his eyes for something, anything, that would reveal what he though of what she’d done. Her expression wasn’t boastful. There was no triumphant smile. Her face shone with fear.

Edmund continued to look at the ground with an expression both confused and curious. Did she kiss him because she liked him? Or simply because she wanted to win? If the later, would she kiss any random guy just to win in a duel? He couldn’t have that. Whether she had kissed him out of love or out of the desire to win, he wouldn’t be able to live with (Y/N) going around kissing random boys simply to win fights. He loved her too much to let her do that.

Edmund cleared his throat and said, “Please tell me you won’t go around kissing random guys just to win duels.”

(Y/N) lowered her head. She didn’t hear the worry in his voice, the fear that she hadn’t kissed him out of love, she mistook it for rejection.

“Sorry,” she mumbled before dropping her dagger then turning and jogging towards the door. She had to get out of there.

And Edmund had to know why she kissed him. He quickly went after her, grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him, not paying attention to how close this brought them.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Ed, I said I was sorry. Now please, just let me go.” (Y/N) mumbled looking at the ground.

“(Y/N), I need to know. Why did you kiss me?”

“Why do you think?” (Y/N) asked, glaring up at him. Was he trying to humiliate her?

“Look, either you kissed me only because you wanted to win or-” Edmund paused, looking at the ground, unable to withstand the anger he saw in her eyes.

“Do you really think I’d go around kissing random guys just to win a duel?” (Y/N) retorted, angry now. “That really hurts, Ed, that you would even consider it. Of course the reason I kissed you then was to actually beat you in a duel but I wouldn’t have considered that as an option if I didn’t love you! Damn it, Ed! I’ve wanted to kiss you for awhile now, I just finally had the courage to do it! Oh, and don’t worry, it won’t happen ever again. Now, let go of me so-”

(Y/N) never got to finish her sentence. The hand that had been holding her arm was now cupping her face; Edmund’s lips were now pressed to her own.

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. Edmund wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her into him until they were pressed together.

The tension that the first kiss created quickly evaporated. All the feelings the couple had kept hidden were let out; each clinging to the other like there was nothing else in the world to hold onto.

After what felt like an eternity, Edmund pulled away, both of them breathing heavily, and looked into (Y/N)’s eyes.

(Y/N) smiled at him. “I win,” she said.

He smiled and said, “I’m glad you’re so competitive. Otherwise we might not be doing this right now.”

(Y/N) let out a small laugh and glanced down. “I thought you were mad when I kissed you.”

Edmund laughed. “Mad? Surprised more like it. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to kiss you for months now and here you make the first move. I wasn’t mad, I was worried you had only done it because you wanted to win.”

(Y/N) frowned slightly. “So what you said about me going around kissing everybody…?”

Edmund hung his head. “That was the fear talking. I mean, what was I supposed to think? Someone like you loving some like me seemed impossible.”

“It seamed more impossible from my standpoint, believe me.” (Y/N) replied smirking.

Edmund looked back up at her, a huge grin spreading across his face. “So we’re good?”

(Y/N) snorted. “I let you kiss me, didn’t I?”

Edmund smirked and tightened his arms around her. “So does that mean I’m free to kiss you again?”

(Y/N) tilted her head up at him smiling. “That means you get to kiss me whenever you want. On the condition that I also get to kiss you whenever I want.”

“Can’t argue with that arrangement, now can I?”

“No you can’t” (Y/N) said before Edmund pressed his lips to hers again.

“Wait till Lucy hears.” (Y/N) said smiling when they pulled away.

“More like wait until Peter and Susan hear! It’s about time!”

*Lucy could hardly tell Peter and Susan once she found them. She was too out of breath from running away from two lovebirds screaming bloody murder.*

anonymous asked:

Ichiruki. "Meet me in the aftermath"

Thanks for the prompt! I went with a historical AU with this one ^^; so here you go!


Rukia’s fingers ran down the sides of her armour, made sure it was properly fastened. Her hand came to rest on the hilt of the sword secured on her hip.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to empty her mind.

She didn’t know how long she stood there like that, attempting to quiet her thoughts; her helmet tucked under one arm, her thumb idly running over the familiar silk cording wrapped around her sword hilt.

At the scuffle of feet, her chin rose, her eyes opened.

Ichigo was walking towards her, his back straight, scowling as he always was.

She smiled at him – a small, tight twist of lips.

His scowl only deepened.

Keep reading

Nightmare x Cross 9

(I feel like this has a bunch of angst in it, Cross gets kidnapped and he comes back, *sarcastically* WHAT CAN GO HORRIBLE WRONG? *Puts on a thinking face* Possibly everything, welp enjoy the story!)

Nightmare pov.

We began our journey and I was getting annoyed with the triplets, they kept whispering such dirty things to me,”You wanna touch Cross’s booty, don’cha?” They wiggled their eyebrows at me, I blushed and I began strangling them,”Keep saying that and I will end you!” I yelled at them, Cross looked back and he glared at the triplets,”Stop harassing Nightmare guys!” He called to them, they just groaned and ran behind their sister, braiding her hair while walking,”They really love their sister.” I looked to see Cross standing beside me, smiling. I blushed as I looked at him, he was smiling and his eyes bright and beautiful, before I knew it, I asked Cross,”Cross?” “What is Nightmare?” He stared at me curiously,I blushed as I looked into his eyes.”Can we talk…Alone?” He seemed to blush a bit and was confused, but he said,”Sure Nightmare.”

Cross Pov.

Nightmare told everyone to go on ahead and me and him stayed behind,”I need to tell you something.” He said, blushing, he stared me in the eye and he took my hands and he brought me closer to him, I blushed as I could feel his breath near my face,”Cross, I need to tell you something, I know we have gone through bad times with each other, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about your eyes, your kind smile, but more so, the closeness we share with each other, Cross what I am saying is that I love you so much, I want you to stay by my side… As my lover.” I blushed at this cheesiness, but it was so melty and I felt myself staring in his eyes, I leaned in forward, he did too, I wrapped my arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist as our eyes closed. The space was completely gone as we kissed each other with passion and love, Nightmare kissed me more deeply and I did the same, we wanted it to last forever, but we soon had to part because of the lack of oxygen. We stared at each other and we stared lovingly at each other.”Nightmare, I love you too.” I whispered to him, He looked me in the eyes with joy and love in his eyes,”I’m glad I fell in love with you Cross.” He said sweetly.

Nightmare pov.

For the first time in the longest years I’ve been like this, I felt loved and joy, Cross stared at me with so much emotion in his eyes, I kissed his forehead gently.”So you did kiss my forehead before.” He had a smile on his face, I blushed at the memory and looked away,”I love you Nightmare.” He said as he pecked my ‘lips’, I smiled at him and nuzzled his face,”Me too Cross.”

Normal pov.

“CRIGHTMOSS IS REAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Cross and Nightmare quickly looked to see everyone staring at them giggling and whistling, Hidou and Killer were recording the whole thing and screaming Crightmoss.”What the h*ll are all you doing!?” Nightmare’s tentacles were thrashing around violently, Cross was blushing and looking away from everyone’s stare,”Akumhei said you guys were kissing, so we came and sure enough you were, I like these kids already.” Killer pat Hidou’s head, Tenma snickered,but Akumhei shouted to Cross.”What happened to our ice cream?!” Nightmare was about to chase everyone, but then a something splattered on his face, he looked to Cross, his eyes went wide, Cross had a sword right where his soul was, Cross stared down at the sword and he then coughed out some blood and collapsed.

Triplets pov.

We all stared at Cross, his soul was pierced with Vesuna’s sword,”Triplets when we said watch the prisoner, we didn’t mean take them out of their cell to graze in the sun.” we looked up to see Vesuna, her eyes blazed with fury and anger,”CROSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Nightmare screamed with despair and tears began to roll down his cheeks as he clutched his Cross in his arms, Cross’s face was twisted with pain and he was trying to keep his eyes open, Vesuna just cackled as she looked them with a mocking sad look.”Oh no, your love is about to die, too bad you guys only confessed your love today.” She said with fake sadness, We then stared at Vesuna and we ran towards Cross as we tore his soul out, everyone stared at us in horror as we put it in a container, we stared back at Nightmare and Cross, Nightmare and the others were trying to stop the bleeding but Cross was slowly vanishing.”Cross, stay with me!” Nightmare was crying and trying so hard to stop the bleeding,”N-Nightmare, I’m sorry…Hello Ginger…Have you came for me?” “NO! DON’T LEAVE ME CROSS!!!” Nightmare was panicking and was crying more.”I love you Nightmare, I’ll see you in my next life…” Cross gently kissed Nightmare,”Good-bye, my love.” Cross then turned to dust, Nightmare stayed silent for a minute, he then began bawling and screaming Cross, Me and everyone tried to comfort him, but he kept crying and We watched as our Otp die, we cried a bit as we got back and the moment we did,”Can we have ice cream?”

Nico's Confession


The voice skimmed over Jason’s head like a bullet. When he turned, there was no one

You have come to claim the sceptre.

Nico had positioned himself behind him, and for the first time, Jason was glad to have the boy’s company.

“Cupid,” called Jason. “Where are you?”

The voice laughed. It definitely did not sound like a cute little angel. It was deep and melodious, but also threatening - like a tremor before a major earthquake.

Where you least expect it, replied Cupid. As love always is.

Something hit Jason, hurling him across the street. He fell down some steps and sprawled on the floor of an excavated Roman basement.

I thought you knew that, Jason Grace. Cupid’s voice swirled around him. You found true love, after all. Or do you doubt yourself?

Nico was running down the steps.

“Are you okay?”

Jason accepted the outstretched hand and stood up.

“I am. I was just made a fool of.”

Ah, you expected me to be fair? Cupid laughed. I am the god of love. I’m never fair.

At that point, Jason was on high alert. He felt the air rippling and an arrow materialized, shot in the direction of Nico’s chest.

Jason intercepted it with his sword and turned to the side.The next arrow hit the wall and exploded, peppering them with shards of limestone.

They climbed the stairs. Jason pulled Nico out of the way when another gust of wind toppled a column that would have crushed them.

"Is this guy Love or Death?” Jason growled.

Ask your friends, Cupid said. Frank, Hazel, and Percy met my antagonist, Thanatos. We are not so different. Sometime death is kinder.

“All we want is the sceptre!” Nico shouted. “We’re trying to stop Gaia. Are you on the side of the Gods or not?”

A second arrow struck the ground between the Nico’s feet, glowing brightly. He staggered backwards when the arrow burst into a pillar of flame.

Love is all around, said Cupid. And on the side of no one. Do not ask what love can do for you.

"Excellent,” said Jason. “Now he’s reciting cheesy songs.”

There was movement behind him, and Jason turned, striking the air with his sword. The blade hit something solid. He heard a grunt and attacked again, but the invisible god was no longer behind them. On the stones of the floor, shone a trail of golden ichor - the blood of the gods.

Very good, Jason, said Cupid. At least you can feel my presence. A mere glimpse of true love is more than most heroes get.

“Then, will you give us the sceptre?” asked Jason.

Cupid laughed.

Unfortunately, you could not control it. Only a child of the Underworld could summon the dead legions. And only a Roman officer could lead them.


Jason hesitated. He was an officer. He was praetor. Then remembered his doubts as to whether he belonged. In New Rome, his position had been given to Percy Jackson. Would that make him unfit to lead a legion of Roman ghosts?

Jason decided to tackle the problem when the time came.

“We decided,” he said “Nico can summon…”

A third arrow whizzed over Jason’s shoulder. He couldn’t stop it. Nico gasped when the projectile hit him in his sword arm.


The son of Hades staggered. The arrow dissolved, leaving no visible blood or injury, but the demigod’s face was twisted in anger and pain.

“This is a joke!” Nico shouted. “Show yourself”

It is complicated to look at the face of true love, Cupid said.

Another column fell. Jason jumped aside.

My wife, Psyche, learned this lesson, Cupid continued. She was brought to me eons ago, when my palace was here. We were in the dark. She was warned to never look at me, and yet she could not bear the mystery. She feared I was a monster. One night, she lit one candle and saw my face while I was sleeping.

“Were you too ugly?”

Jason had located Cupid’s voice at the edge of the amphitheater, about twenty feet away, but he wanted to be sure.

The god laughed.

I think I was too beautiful. A mortal can not contemplate the true form of a god without suffering the consequences. My mother, Aphrodite cursed my Psyche for her distrust. My poor lover was tortured, forced into exile and had to perform terrible tasks to prove her worthiness. She was sent to the Underworld on a mission to prove her dedication. She got back to my side, but suffered greatly.

Now I’ve got it, thought Jason.

He pointed his sword to the sky and thunder shook the valley. Lightning opened a crater in the spot where the voice had come from.

Silence. Jason was already thinking: man, this actually worked, when an invisible force knocked him down. His sword across to the other side of the street.

Nice try, Cupid said, his voice already distant, but love can not be detected so easily.

Beside him, a wall collapsed. Jason managed to roll to the side.

"Stop it!” Nico shouted. “Do what you want to me. Leave him alone!”

Jason ears buzzed. He was dizzy from being thrown. His mouth tasted of limestone powder. He didn’t understand why Nico thought he was the main target, but Cupid seemed to agree.

Poor Nico di Angelo. The god’s voice was full of deception. You do not know what you want, let alone what I want. My beloved Psyche risked everything in the name of love.It was the only way to atone for her lack of faith. And you, what have you risked in my name?

“I went to Tartarus and returned,” Nico growled. “You do not scare me.”

I scare you very much. Look at me. Be honest.

Jason stood up.

The ground around Nico shook. The grass withered and the stones cracked like something was moving under the ground, trying to make its way to the surface.

“We want the sceptre of Diocletian,” Nico said. “We have no time for jokes.”

Jokes? Cupid struck Nico, throwing him aside against a granite pedestal. Love is not a joke! It is not the softness of flowers! It is hard work, a quest that never ends. It requires all of you, especially the truth. Only then will it give you rewards.

Jason retrieved his sword. If the invisible guy was Love, Jason was starting to think that Love was something overestimated. He liked the version of Piper: thoughtful, gentle and beautiful. Aphrodite he could understand. But Cupid seemed more like a bandit, an oppressor.

“Nico, what does this guy want from you?”

Tell him, Nico di Angelo, replied Cupid, Tell him that you are a coward, afraid of yourself and your feelings. Tell him the real reason you fled Camp Half-Blood, and why you are always alone.

Nico uttered a guttural scream. The floor at his feet opened and skeletons dragged themselves out: dead Romans without hands, with sunken skulls, broken ribs and jaws loose. Some were dressed in the remains of their togas. Others brought brilliant pieces of armor hanging on their chests.

Will you hide among the dead, as you always do? Cupid taunted.

Waves of darkness emanated from the son of Hades. When Jason reached him, he almost fainted, overwhelmed by hatred, fear, shame …

Images crossed his mind. He saw Nico and his sister on a snowy cliff; in Maine, Percy Jackson is protecting them from a manticore. Percy’s sword glowed in the dark. He was the first demigod Nico saw in action. *

Later at Camp Half-Blood, Percy took Nico’s arm and promised to keep his sister, Bianca, safe. Nico believed him. He looked into his sea-green eyes and thought: he can not fail. He is a true hero. Percy was Nico’s favourite game, Mythomagic, brought to reality.

Jason saw when he came back and told Nico that Bianca died. The boy cried and called him a liar. He felt betrayed, but still … when the skeleton warriors attacked, he could not let them hurt Percy. Nico invoked the earth to swallow them, and then he fled, terrified by his own powers, by his own emotions.

Jason saw another dozen scenes like this from the point of view of Nico… they left him stunned, unable to move or talk.

Meanwhile, Nico’s Roman skeletons advanced and grabbed something invisible. Cupid fought, pushing the dead, breaking ribs and skulls, but they continued to emerge, holding the arms of the god.

Interesting! said Cupid. You have the strength, after all?

“I left Camp Half-Blood for love,” said Nico. “Annabeth … she …”

Still hiding, said Cupid, leaving another skeleton in pieces.You do not have the strength.

“Nico,” Jason managed to say. “Everything is fine. I understand.”

Nico stared at him with pain and affliction stamped on his face.

“No,” he said. “You couldn’t understand.”

And so you turn to flee, rebuked Cupid. From your friends, from yourself.

“I have no friends,” Nico shouted. “I left Camp Half-Blood because I didn’t belong in that place! I never belonged!”

The skeletons had Cupid immobilised, but the invisible God laughed so cruelly that Jason wanted to bring down another bolt of lightning. Unfortunately, he doubted that he had the strength..

“Leave him alone, Cupid,” Jason complained. “This isn’t…”

His voice failed. He meant to say that it was not the god’s problem, but then he realized that it was exactly the matchmaker’s problem. Something Favonio had said buzzed in his ears: are you shocked? **

The story of Psyche finally made ​​sense to him: he understood why the girl had felt that deadly fear. Why she had run the risk of disobeying the rules to look upon the face of the god of love, fearing that he could be a monster.

Psyche was right. Cupid was a monster. Love was the wildest of all monsters.

Nico’s voice sounded pained.

“I-I wasn’t in love with Annabeth.”

“You were jealous of her,” said Jason. “And you didn’t want to be near her. Especially not when she was with… him. It explains everything.”

All of Nico’s fight seemed to fade at the same time. Darkness fell. The dead Romans turned into piles of dust.

“I hated myself,” said Nico. “I hated Percy Jackson.”

Cupid became visible - a young lean muscular man with wings as white as snow, straight black hair, wearing a simple white tunic and jeans. The bow and arrows hanging on his shoulder were not toys. They were weapons of war. His eyes were as red as blood, as if all the hearts of Valentine’s Day and been squeezed and distilled into a poisonous mixture. His face was beautiful, but as hard to look at as a spotlight. He watched Nico with satisfaction as if he had identified the exact spot which would guarantee a clean kill with his arrow.

“I had a crush on Percy,” said Nico. “That’s it. That’s the big secret.”

He looked at Cupid.

“Happy now?”

For the first time, Cupid’s look turned sympathetic.

“I wouldn’t say Love always makes you happy.” His voice sounded smaller, more human. “Sometimes it makes you incredibly sad. But at least you’ve faced it now. And that is the only way to beat me.”

Cupid dissolved into the air.

On the ground, in the place where he has stood, was a an ivory staff one metre in length, with a dark globe of polished marble the size of a baseball on top, nestled on the shoulders of three Roman gold eagles. The sceptre of Diocletian.

Nico knelt and picked up the sceptre. Jason looked up, as if expecting an attack.

“If the others find out…”

“If the others find out,” Jason said, “you will have more people to support you, and release the fury of the gods against people who give you trouble.”

Nico grimaced. Jason could feel anger and resentment emanating from him.

“But the decision is yours,” Jason added. “The decision whether to share it or not. That’s all I can say.”

“I don’t feel that way any more,” muttered Nico. “I mean… I gave up on Percy. I was young and impressionable, and I, I don’t…”

His voice failed, and Jason saw that the boy was about to cry. Whether Nico had actually given up on Percy or not, Jason couldn’t imagine how he’d spent all those years, keeping a secret which would have been unthinkable to share in the 1940s, denying who he was, feeling completely alone - even more isolated than the other Demigods.

“Nico,” he said gently, “I’ve seen a lot of acts of courage. But what you did: that might be the bravest of them all.”

Nico raised his head, uncertain.

“We have to return to the ship.”

“We can fly…”

“No,” Nico snapped. “This time we shadow travel. I want to stay away from the wind for a long time.”


“I’m never going to get it.” you protest, looking down at the sword held loosely in your hands. It’s blade glints in the sunlight shining into the clearing you and Fili are using to practice in.

“Of course you will. No one gets it on only the third week. Even I didn’t.” Fili replies, lifting your chin so you look into his soft blue eyes. You immediately relax at his touch. “Think of it this way. If you stop trying, then uncle won’t let you come with us on the journey to the mountain.”

“That’s what I don’t understand. I’m perfectly skilled with a dagger. Why do I need to know the sword also?” you protest, (e/c) eyes narrowing.

“Because although a dagger is useful, it isn’t as helpful in a large fight. Swords are your best option.” he says, smiling at your stubbornness. “If you give up now, then it will be pretty difficult for me to court you from thousands of miles away.”

You smile and look up, blue eyes meeting (e/c) ones. The blonde prince pulls you in for a soft kiss, hand placed softly on the back of your neck. When you pull away, you smile at each other.

“You ready for another go?” he asks, stepping back and raising his sword.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” you reply, imitating Kili’s stance.

“Alright, remember. To disarm, it’s all in the-”

“Wrist. I know, Fili,” you cut him off. He smiles at you, raising the tip of his sword a tad higher. You do the same.

The silence of the forest is deafening as you wait for his signal. Then the peace is broken by the sharp bark of a word: “Go!”

Fili brings his sword down, and you block it with your own. The once still air is alive with the clanging of metal on metal. Sword fighting has begun to come naturally to you, the twists and parries all part of a rhythmic dance you have been learning for weeks now.

Although you were no where close to as skilled as the prince, he never let up on you. He believed that to learn, you had to learn with how it will actually be.

You block another strike of his when you see the opening. Thrusting your sword forward, you twist your wrist quickly to the right. Fili’s sword flies out of his hands and into a nearby tree.

The blonde prince stands shocked, as you step forward and place the tip of your sword in his throat, making him smile. Grinning, you drop your sword and throw your arms around him, laughing. He returns the gesture, his beard tickling the side of your neck.

You pull away, keeping your face close to his, arms wrapped around his neck. He pulls you impossibly closer, strong arms tightening around your waist. “Well, (y/n), it looks like I’m a few weeks you might be packing for a journey.”

Fili pulls you into a passionate kiss, all thoughts of sword fighting lost.

Chapter 7: The Dead Are Coming

Originally posted by rosieofhousestark

Your life with the Starks is great, it’s more than you ever imagined. You and Jon Snow have a beloved little secret, but will that change all very soon? What will happen to Jon and especially you as new series of events start to stir causing a plethora of mishaps and sinister evil beings try to plot against the Starks, what will you do to play your part in the Game of Thrones?

Chapter 5  Chapter 6 Chapter 8

*This is one of my favorite chapters due to the action involved in it. Enjoy!*

I guess you have to put warnings incase of a trigger? But I mean if you watch or read GOT you know what you’re in for. But…

Warning: Mentions of rape and actually murder happens. 

Today is the day they finally finish making Bran’s saddle. Robb, Theon and I sit on a log that was in near the woods of Winterfell. We hear Bran yelling joyfully as he is riding faster and faster on his horse Dancer. “Not too fast!” Robb yells then smiles at me and Theon.

“Come on, Dancer!” Bran whoops again as he rides faster.

“He’s too excited my Lord Stark.” I say. Robb looks over to me and gives me a soft smile. “Let the little lord enjoy it for now.” Robb understands and nods his head.

Keep reading

Not a Child Anymore: Ch. 1

Info: OUAT | Peter Pan

She gripped the sword in her hand as if her life depended on it. She swung it confidently, forcefully, moving her feet deftly as she circled around her opponent. He simply jumped back swiftly, laughing a little, his own sword casually held in his right hand. He recovered from her attack, stepping in rhythm with her, his magnificently green eyes piercing hers, never wavering. She sucked in a breath before raising her sword to meet his, and again, and again, and again. She twisted her body as she turned into him to knock the sword out of his hand. The boy simply grabbed hold of her waist, flipping her over his shoulder. She landed on the ground, her back thudding and stinging in sudden pain. The wind was knocked right out of her, and she gasped to regain her breath.

Just as the boy began to lower himself onto her to hold her down, she lunged towards her sword and kicked herself back up. She turned back to him, glaring thunderously, a growl deep in her throat. “That’s the last time you’ll be doing that,” she snarled, leaning forward, sword pointing straight as an arrow.

The boy leisurely stepped towards her, sword hanging loosely by his side. “Oh yeah?” he raised his eyebrow. Could he be any more cocky? she thought angrily. He smirked and faked lunging towards her, but withdrew. She jumped back instinctively, annoyed that he was just trying to get her to jump in a fright and make her look foolish. She played right into his hands. Frustrated and worked up, she was slow to react when he lunged again, this time nicking her arm by flicking his sword upward. It stung, but she refused to wince. Without sparing her arm a glance, she took advantage of his overconfidence, and swung her sword with so much force and speed it knocked his right out of his hand, earning a look of surprise out of him. She twisted her sword in her hand, taking hold of the hilt with one and the tip with the other, driving it under her opponent’s chin. She forced him back into a tree, holding the sword against his neck, pushing just enough for it to hurt him, but not cut him.

“You shouldn’t let your guard down so easily, Pan” she quipped triumphantly.

“And neither should you yours,” Pan laughed, sweeping his foot against her, causing her legs to buckle and her to lose her balance. She stumbled, lowering her sword, giving him enough time to push himself off the tree, grab her shoulders, and swing her around so this time she was pinned against the tree. He looked at her with such fierce intensity, eyes blazing, but she lifted her chin stubbornly. She pointed her sword against his chest this time.

“Deadlocked,” Pan conceded.

“No. My sword is pointed at you, and…” she looked around with exaggerated mockery. “You have — hmm — you don’t even have a sword at all. You have no weapon, I win.”

Peter rolled his eyes with a mix of anger and admiration. No one had ever bested him before. He considered giving in, but he so wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off her face. So he roughly grabbed her wrist suddenly, wresting the sword out of her grasp and into his, using his other hand to keep her firmly planted against the course bark scraping her back. He tossed the sword aside, and returned his gaze back onto her, planting each of his hands by her head.

“Peter Pan never fails. I win.” His face was dangerously close to hers, and she could feel his chest rising up and down, his breathing hot and heavy, and his voice low. She glanced away timidly, rather surprised at his close proximity and the intensity of his gaze, which was so full of victory. Before she could wrest herself free, he pushed his hands off the tree and turned away.

She took a step forward, annoyed he beat her once again. Expecting him to gloat, she clenched her teeth and braced herself. He surprised her yet again.

“How did you get to be so good at sword-fighting anyway?” Pan chuckled, turning her way.

She looked at him surprisedly, before simply shrugging. “My father is a pirate… He’s hardly at home, and it’s just me and my mum, so he taught me how to defend myself. I’ve held a sword in my hand for as long as I have quills.”

Peter raised his eyebrow again, amused. “How thoughtful of him,” he mused. She knew Pan’s history with pirates, and it wasn’t a good one.

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Not really. He wasn’t doing it out of kindness,” she paused and then added, “Though I know you don’t think pirates capable of kindness anyway. But don’t think I’m defending him. He didn’t give a crap about me or my mom. He did nothing for us, nothing,” she spat bitterly, shocking herself with how much hatred she still held in her heart for him.

She suddenly began to breathe heavily, as images of her careless drunk of a father swarmed in her mind. She kept herself up by clumsily placing her hand against the tree, as her body shook and her vision blurred and her mind clouded.

She woke up shaking.


Peter Pan lurched out of bed, flinging his covers off of himself. He shot up, anxiously beginning to pace around his treehouse. “Cece?” he whispered.


Cecily shook in her bed, drawing her blankets up to her shoulders and wrapping them around her in an attempt to keep out the biting cold. She felt the wind blow mercilessly into her room, causing papers to rustle, the drawings on her wall gently swaying. Shivering, Cecily jumped out of bed in a rush to close the window — she paused. I don’t remember opening this window in the first place… she thought. She never opened the window, not unless she wanted to sit on the roof. Then, she would open the window and crawl out onto the roof; she often sat there when her mother was wailing to herself, and when she was younger, when her parents were fighting. It was on the roof she escaped… the roof and —

Suddenly, another gust of wind shook Cecily, pulling her out of her thoughts. She hugged herself and leaned forward to close the window, when a hand shot out and held the window back. At first, Cecily stubbornly pushed back on the window, oblivious to the hand holding it in place. But when she looked closely, and saw a figure standing on her roof, she yelped and jumped back in fright. She backed away, staring, transfixed, as the hand pushed the window back open and the face of a boy popped in, one elbow propped up against the window, the other resting on the sill. 

“Miss me?”

Cecily gaped.


Word Count: 1,157 // This is the first writing piece I’ve posted so far! I write a lot and try to do it quite frequently, so this definitely is not my first time writing. However, it’s my first time writing anything Peter Pan related. I’m trying to stay away from the clichés and OUAT quotes unless requested… just to keep it original and unexpected and fun. (: I’d LOVE to hear feedback. Interested in a chapter two? Let me know!

Imagine Kili and Legolas fighting over who gets to court you


imagine || fic request || Averil of Fairlea || Song inspiration

A/N: To fit the setting, I made some slight modifications to the imagine & request. And also…no Tauriel. Story broken up into sections.


The monstrous spiders were dead - not you or any other member of Thorin Oakenshield’s company. Excellent.

But now there was another problem: you were on your way to a Mirkwood prison cell. Not so good.

What a way to spend your birthday.

To top things off, the Elf called Legolas kept looking back at you, as if he knew something about you – or liked something about you.

After several minutes, Legolas let another guard up front take the Dwarves he’d captured, including Thorin and his sword Orcrist. Legolas fell back and gently took your arm from another Elf.

“Get your mitts off her!” Kili snapped from the very back of the line. He had also seen how Legolas looked at you.

“Kili, we’re about to be locked up,” you called. “He’s not going to carry me to the cell!”

Legolas flashed his eyes at you.

“I could carry you, Gilgalad.

You didn’t know what “gilgalad” meant but now it was obvious that the handsome Elf liked you. You blushed, your eyes wide.

Kili started twisting in the grip of the guard who had him by the arm.


Legolas stopped and just stared at Kili for a moment. The guard who had the Dwarf also stood still, and Kili settled down, returning Legolas’ stare. All the other Dwarves and guards continued walking.

Gilgalad,” Legolas repeated.

“WHAT?! If anyone’s a ‘gilded lad,’ it’s you, blondie!”

“Oh Kili…” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Gil-ga-lad. It means starlight.” Legolas glanced at the five-pointed diamond pendant on a gold chain peeking from the top of your shirt. You were impressed: no one ever noticed the heirloom, more dear to you than any other possession.

Legolas began walking again. Kili felt like a fool and bit his lip as the guard pulled on him to keep going.

 Then Kili had an idea.

                               “The Better Archer”

“Hey, Gilded Lad! It’s the lady’s birthday. I think she deserves a special dinner with a special companion, despite the circumstances.”

You turned around and narrowed your eyes at Kili, wondering where he was going with this.

“And who do you think this ‘special companion’ should be, pray tell?” Legolas asked.

“The better archer.”

You threw your head back for several seconds and looked at the canopy above, not believing Kili’s audacity - but loving him for it, too.

When you refocused on Legolas, he had a hint of smugness in his eye. In Sindarin, he ordered Kili’s guard to return to Mirkwood’s halls.

The three of you were now alone. Legolas retrieved his knife from its sheath on his hip and pointed it at Kili so the Dwarf wouldn’t try any funny business while he talked to you.

“A birthday dinner for you and a companion of your choosing, beautiful lady, can be secretly arranged,” Legolas said, “but is this your desire, or his?”

“My desire is that you let my friends and me go.”

Legolas slowly shook his head. That wish obviously wasn’t going to come true.

An archery contest? This is so stupid, you thought. But you had to admit, it was a bit flattering, and entertaining, to have two gorgeous fellows compete for your company - and on your birthday, no less.

“Fine,” you said. “I’ll set the rules.”

You took a quick look around the landscape, immediately noticing a curved row of four pine trees, amply spaced. The last one in the line was nearly a half a kilometer away.

“Shoot each of these trunks - no missing, no flubbing.” You pointed to the tree line. “Start with the furthest, and…”

Your directions were cut off by both Legolas’ and Kili’s muffled laughter.

“Too easy,” Kili mumbled. “I’ll have roast beef for my dinner, please.”

“These trees were my target practice 600 years ago,” Legolas said, looking pitifully at Kili. “I was practically still in diapers when I pierced them.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” you said. “You must be blindfolded, and your feet fixed in the same position for each target. The one to hit all the trees, following all the rules, wins.”

The laughing stopped.


“You expect me to let prisoners blindfold me?” Legolas asked you skeptically. He tucked away his blade and stepped up to you both, preparing to grab your arms. “Sorry, this contest is canceled.”

“Here!” You reached behind your neck, unfastened your cherished necklace, and offered it to Legolas. “This is the only worldly possession I have. It’s been in my family forever. Keep it as my vow not to harm you. And Dwarves keep their word! Neither of us will hurt you, right Kili?”

Kili shrugged and said “sure.” Legolas took the necklace in his hand, admiring its subtle beauty.

“Agreed,” the Elf said, slipping the chain in his boot.

You pulled your long tattered scarf from your waist as Legolas painstakingly chose the best position to stand in. Once he secured his footing, you handed him the scarf.

“Don’t try anything,” he warned. You placed your hand over your heart, but he was really talking to Kili, who just stood there, arms folded, smirking.

Legolas tied the scarf around his eyes, lifted his bow and pulled an arrow from the quiver.

Ping!  The first arrow hit the furthest target with ease.

He grabbed another arrow, rotated at his waist, and shot:


Third arrow:




Legolas hit the closest tree, but it bounced off the tough bark and met the ground.

He yanked the blindfold off and let it slip from his fingers as he gazed, crestfallen, at the projectile lying in the leaves as if it had betrayed him.

Kili sauntered over and picked it up.

“Here you go,” Kili sang, tucking the arrow back in Legolas’ quiver.

The Elf stepped aside and tried to hide his embarrassment and disappointment.

                                  “A Deal is a Deal”

Kili reached for the crumpled scarf, fumbled with the knot in it, then tied it around his eyes. Without much consideration, he nailed a spot to stand in.

He picked up his bow, set his first arrow, and loosed it.

Hit. Slight pivot at waist. Release. Hit.

Each arrow seemed to speak, taunting Legolas:

I Like!

My Roast Beef!



Kili slid the scarf down to his neck and spread his lips into a wide grin. You couldn’t help it; you smiled, too.

“Shall I retrieve the arrows?” Kili started walking toward the trees.

“I’ll do it! Don’t move!” Legolas snarled.

Legolas stomped to each tree and ripped the arrows from the trunks. Kili pulled away the scarf and wrapped it back around your waist, smiling up at you cunningly.

When Legolas returned, he practically threw the arrows belonging to Kili in the Dwarf’s face.

After everyone’s arrows were back where they belonged, Legolas got between you and Kili, took you both by the upper arm and began walking toward the Mirkwood halls.

“A deal is a deal,” Legolas muttered after a few minutes of silence. “I’ll make the arrangements for dinner, but if a word of this gets out…”

“It won’t,” you promised, looking past him at a very, very proud Kili. “Thank you.”

Legolas abruptly stopped, remembering something. He let go of you and Kili and reached down into his boot. He pulled out the necklace, then stood behind you and secured it around your neck.

He offered you a genuinely friendly smile.

“Happy birthday, Gilgalad.”

We’re Okay

A twenty-something Stiles wakes Scott from a nightmare about the nogitsune twisting the katana into him. He’s horrified to think about how often Scott might have these dreams… 

[dedicated to velociraptervevo]

“No- no, please-”

Stiles rolls over in bed, rubbing his eyes as he tries to focus on Scott in the darkness.

“Scotty?” he mumbles, hardly awake enough to wake someone else.

“Please, please don’t-”

“Scotty, you’re having a bad dream,” he says, louder this time, sitting up.

He notices Scott’s gripping the sheets with clawed hands, and carefully keeps away from them. He almost feels bad, waking Scott—even though his nightmares are far less frequent than Stiles’, he’s always embarrassed by them. Something to do with his need to protect people, Stiles supposes. He feels like he can’t show weakness, even in his sleep.

“Please, Stiles, don’t.”

Stiles’ blood runs cold.

No. No, it could be anything. It doesn’t have to be that. Stiles could be dying in the dream, for all he knows.

But no, he’s heard that tone of voice before.

You okay?

Please, don’t. Stop.

It’s okay.

He remembers it all too well. How small and scared Scott’s voice had gotten on the word ‘stop’, making him sound so unlike himself. The little gasping hitch of breath. The screams of agony as Stiles twisted the sword in his gut.

Does it hurt? Look at me.

Stiles has the sudden urge to vomit. Selfishly, he almost doesn’t want to wake Scott, doesn’t want to see the moment of fear in his eyes when he sees his nightmare sitting over him.

“Scotty!” he repeats, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it before he can let himself chicken out. “You’re having a nightmare. Wake up, Scott.”

Scott sits up, gasping, and almost smashes his head into Stiles’.

“Hey, hey,” Stiles says, forcing his voice to be soothing as he pets his hands over Scott’s arms. “It’s fine. You’re fine. Just a bad dream. It’s alright.”

Thankfully, there’s no panic attack.

“Oh,” Scott breathes. When Stiles tries to lock eyes with him, Scott’s dart away, and something heavy settles in Stiles’ stomach. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Yeah, no biggie though. Your eyes are still red, by the way. Claws are out too. Try to breathe a little, okay?”

He rubs a gentle hand up Scott’s back to try to help get him started, and Scott flinches.

That’s the spot where the sword went through him, Stiles realizes, feeling sick as he yanks his hand back.

Scott immediately flushes, and they come to an unspoken decision to act like it didn’t happen. Then, being the fucking amazing person he is—too good for Stiles, Stiles who was weak, Stiles who let himself be possessed, Stiles who is still screwing up—Scott takes his hand and sets it there again.

He takes deep, slow breaths as Stiles rubs his back, and eventually his eyes fade back to their warm brown.  

“Thanks,” he murmurs, running a de-clawed hand through his hair.

“You wanna talk about it?”

No matter how much he hates it, Scott always feels better after talking things over. Stiles can’t deny him that, even if it’ll be awful for himself.

“It’s fine,” Scott says, too quickly. “I should probably get back to bed. I’ve got that 8:30 class tomorrow.”

“That’s on Thursday.”  


“Scott, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

He can’t imagine how long Scott’s been keeping this bottled up. Doesn’t want to imagine how long it’s been giving him nightmares.

“Yeah, of course,” Scott says, eyes finally flitting to Stiles’. “It’s just not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”  

“It was about me, wasn’t it?” he asks tentatively. He doesn’t want to pry, to make Scott talk about things he doesn’t want to, but he’s pretty sure it’s much more a matter of Scott thinking he doesn’t want to talk about it. “You kind of… said my name.”

Scott swallows hard, and that’s really all the answer Stiles needs.

Keep reading

Four Against One

anonymous asked: fili teaching his son to sword fight and his wife winds up showing fili to sword fight

Words: 780 || Characters: Fili, Wife!Reader, children Kayleigh, Fili II, Kasi & Filippa || Genre: Much fluff, humor || Author’s Note: I altered the request a little to fit with my head canon that Fili has triplets as well as a newborn (he and his wife have been quite busy since surviving BOTFA)

Keep reading

gattacats  asked:

What do you think are the main differences between book!Arya and show!Arya? What do you think about them? (i don't know if you have written anything on this topic, if you already did i'm sorry)

Hi ! Sorry, I’m late to answer. But it was a question I had to give a lot of thoughts.

For me, THE main difference between show!Arya and book!Arya is the taste for revenge. The two of them have a relation with death (particulary killing) that is very different.

Book!Arya always kills when she has no other choice, whether it’s to protect (herself or other) or because she is forced to. Her killings are mostly driven by fear, not premeditation.

« Everything Syrio Forel had ever taught her vanished in a heartbeat. In that instant of sudden terror, the only lesson Arya could remember was the one Jon Snow had given her, the very first.

She stuck him with the pointy end, driving the blade upward with a wild, hysterical strenght. » Arya, AGOT

« Hot Pie dropped his shortsword when he tried to unsheath it. Arya shoved the blade back into his hand. ”I don’t know how to swordfight,” he said, white-eyed.

”It’s easy,” Arya said, but the lie died in her throat as a hand grasped the top of the parapet. (…) Fear cuts deeper than swords, she remembered as the top of a pothelm loomed up behind the hand.

She slashed down hard, and Needle’s castle-forged steel bit into the grasping fingers between the knuckles. » Arya, ACOK

« She could see the gleam of steel under the fur, and she did not know if she was strong enough to drive the point of the dagger through chainmail. His throat, it must be his throat, but he’s too tall, I’ll never reach it. For a moment she did not know what to say. For a moment she was a little girl again, and scared, and the rain on her face felt like tears. » Arya, ACOK

« The look [the Tickler] gave her was cold with promise. Is there gold hidden in the village ? She could hear him ask. The stupid squire was clutching the edge of a table and pulling himself to his knees. Arya could taste the beginnings of panic in the back of her throat. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper… (…) ”Are you the puppy’s puppy ?” [The squire] had his sword in his right hand and her arm in his left, but her own hands were free, so she jerked his knife from its sheath and sheathed it again in his belly, twisting. (…) The Tickler backed away. Arya could smell his fear. The shortsword in his hand suddenly seemed almost a toy against the long blade the Hound was holding, and he wasn’t armored either. He moved swiftly, light on his feet, never taking off Sandor Clegane. It was the easiest thing in the world for Arya to step up behind him and stab him. » Arya, ASOS

These are all the deaths Arya has been responsible of so far (in the same timeline than the show, because there is other after but they aren’t relevant for this meta, as they didn’t happen yet – besides, they’re a little different), and where she initially had no intention to harm or kill. All of them are necessity, her last resort. She is terrified but she has to kill, because it’s either them or her. It’s self-defense.

But she doesn’t draw any joy nor satisfaction from it.

« Gendry’s sword shattered on the man’s helm, tearing it off his head. Underneath he was bald and scared-looking, with missing teeth and a speckly grey beard, but even as she was feeling sorry for him, she was killing him, shouting ”Winterfell ! Winterfell !” while Hot Pie screamed ”Hot Pie !” beside her as he hacked at the man’s scrawny neck. » Arya, ACOK

« Arya told of Yoren and their escape from King’s Landing as well, and much that had happened since, but she left out the stableboy she’d stabbed with Needle, and the guard whose throat she’d cut to get out of Harrenhal. Telling Harwin would be almost like telling her father, and there were some things that she could not bear having her father know. » Arya, ASOS

Actually, killing is for her a shameful thing, that she is not supposed to do. She worries a lot about it, she thinks she is wicked to have done it, to the point she thinks her mother and brother won’t get her back because of it.

« Arya didn’t know how much Robb would pay for her, tough. He was a king now, not the boy she’d left at Winterfell with snow melting in his hair. And if he knew the things she’d done, the stableboy and the guard at Harrenhall and all. ”What if my brother doesn’t want to ransom me ?” » Arya, ASOS

« Maybe I should go to the Wall instead of Riverrun. Jon wouldn’t care who I killed or whether I brushed my hair. » Arya, ASOS

It’s a little different with the people on her list, but not so much. Yes, she does feel relief when she can cross one off. But I think this has more to do with the fact they are all terrible people, and the world is a better place without them. After all, she began to do this list when she was in Harrenhal, watching countless people being tortured/killed/put to slavery, and she wasn’t able to protect or do anything about it.

« By the time they marched, Arya knew she was no water dancer. Syrio Forel would never have let them knock him down and take his sword away, nor stood by when they killed Lommy Greenhands. Syrio would never have sat silent in that storehouse nor shuffled along meekly among the other captives. The direwolf was the sigil of the Starks, but Arya felt more a lamb, surrounded by a herd of other sheep. She hated the villagers for their sheepishness, almost as much as she hated herself. » Arya, ACOK

« Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave ? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. » Arya, ACOK

This is a stark contrast with the little girl that didn’t hesitate to hit the crown prince to protect her lowborn friend. Here she is powerless, and she hates it. Her list comes as a way of defense, to give her the illusion of control : « Now you’re giving me hell, but one day I’ll make you pay. » It’s her mean to struggle against her lack of agency, as she can do nothing to protect herself and others.

Her list thus gathers the people that hurt her/her family/her friends/others. They’re all terrible persons (with some reservations for the Hound). Does she wish them dead ? Yes, of course. Does she draw satisfaction from it ? Yes, in a way. If they’re dead, they can’t harm others right ?

But she doesn’t actually wish to kill them herself (note by the way that almost every guy on her list that are now dead have been killed by other people, safe for the Tickler). Her main concern is to get back to her family, not find every people on her list. They are dead ? Good. They’re not ? Well, that’s something she’ll have to deal with later. Right now she only wants to find her family.

« I want to go north, to the Wall. Here, I can pay.” She gave him the purse. ”The Night’s Watch has a castle on the sea.” » Arya,ASOS

« I know where we could go,” Arya said. She still had one brother left. Jon will want me, even if no one else does. He’ll call me “little sister” and muss my hair. It was a long way, though, and she didn’t think she could get there by herself. She hadn’t even been able to reach Riverrun. ”We could go to the Wall.”

Sandor’s laugh was half a growl. ”The little wolf bitch wants to join the Night’s Watch, does she?”

”My brother’s on the Wall,” she said stubbornly. » Arya, ASOS

Her will to get back to her mother and brother(s) is more important than avenge the dead. Well, it’s still important but she would rather have her whole family alive than having all the people that caused her harm dead.

«King Joffrey’s dead, you know,” he added. ”Poisoned at his own wedding feast.”

Arya edged farther into the room. Joffrey’s dead. She could almost see him, with his blond curls and his mean smile and his fat soft lips. Joffrey’s dead ! She knew it ought to make her happy, but somehow she still felt empty inside. Joffrey was dead, but if Robb was dead too, what did it matter ? » Arya, ASOS

Her arc doesn’t revolve around revenge but survival, and while I think it will matter more later, now she only wants to be safe and happy.

(P.S : I didn’t include the deaths she gave to Jaqen, because technically she isn’t the one to kill them ; but her motivations are the same. She gives the names because she is terrified, and in Weese’s case directly threatened. He beats her so much and is such a sadistic asshole that she knows he’s gonna kill her one day. Again, it’s protection. And Chiswyck is the man she heard tell how he and his comrades gang-raped a poor thirteen years-old girl, laugh about it, and she was so terrified she didn’t dare ask him what Weese wanted.)

However, in show!Arya… Well, sometimes I ask myself. She is definitively more prone to do so than her counterpart, especially now she is « grown » (they do tried to kept her from killing in the second season). Two killings especially stand out for me : the Frey guard after the Red Wedding and Polliver in the inn. Both are obviously in replacement of the Tickler (there are characteristics of his death in both), but as neither of them is him, it hasn’t the same impact.

The Frey guard happens after the Red Wedding. Arya is confused, desperate, horrified and more. But where book!Arya deals with it with denial and depression

« She could feel the hole inside her every morning when she woke. (…) Some mornings Arya did not want to wake at all. »

« We should have gone into the castle. They didn’t really know that her mother was dead, or Robb either. It wasn’t like they’d seen them die or anything. Maybe Lord Frey had just taken them captive. Maybe they were chained up in his dungeon, or maybe the Freys were taking them to King’s Landing so Joffrey could chop their heads off. They didn’t know. ”We should go back to the Twins and get my mother. She can’t be dead. We have to help her.” » Arya, ASOS

show!Arya deals with it with violence. After all, contrary to book!Arya the Frey guard didn’t threatened her, he was just sitting and eating (and mocking Robb ? I don’t remember very well). It’s Arya when she sees him that makes the conscious decision to kill him. It’s at the last minute but also premeditated (the trick with the coin shows she had thought about how to kill him – it’s actually the same trick book!Arya used to kill the guard in Harrenhal, and there she clearly premeditated his death). She doesn’t kill to protect, she kills to exteriorise her anger and despair at her mother and brother’s slaughter.

The way she kills him also isn’t the same than with the Tickler. Oh, they both stab him repeatedly but in book!Arya, it exteriorise all the fear he provokes in her and her frustration of being powerless while he was torturing people. As the Frey guard means nothing to her, his death doesn’t have the same meaning. It’s only raw violence.

I know it’s a way to make them « pay », but personally I prefer Arya to stay as far as she can of killings…

The death of Polliver also bothered me. I was relieved the fight didn’t include her (at that point, I was worried they would make her fight alongside the Hound, but she stayed behind and that’s good), but how she kills him at the end disturbed me. It’s very methodical, cold, very far from how book!Arya kills. Worse, she seems to feel pleasure when she sinks Needle in his throat, and I don’t like it very much because Arya doesn’t like to kill.

So while I will fight tooth and nail those who claim book!Arya is a cold-blooded killer, sometimes I hardly blame the show watchers (especially those who didn’t read the books). Show!Arya seeks revenge, that’s plain enough. Even her list : for book!Arya it represents hope, the idea that one day she will be strong enough to kill them if she wants to and not be as powerless and weak as she was in Harrenhal. It’s a list of people she wants dead, but not necessarily by her hand. For show!Arya, it’s the promise she’ll kill them later.

« Arya : Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin Lannister, the Red Woman. I can’t sleep until I say the names.

Sandor : The names of every lads in Westeros.

Arya : Only the ones I’m going to kill. » GOT, season 4, episode 1

Warning : even in the show, Arya still isn’t a psychopath or a sociopath. At several moments she stands out to protect or protest against unecessary harm. She only has less hesitation to kill than her book counterpart.

Alongside with that, I also find show!Arya a little bit colder. She is very focused on her survival, which is normal but there is little else. I’ll be forever sad they took off most of Gendry and Arya’s interactions, not only because I ship them but also because they have some sweet moments where they joke and bicker and flirt.

« By midday Hot Pie had begun to complain. His arse was sore, he told them, and the saddle was rubbing him raw inside his legs, and besides he had to get some sleep. ”I’m so tired I’m going to fall off the horse.”

Arya looked at Gendry. ”If he falls off, who do you think will find him first, the wolves or the Mummers ?

”The wolves,” said Gendry. ”Better noses.” » Arya, ASOS

« Behind them, Gendry groaned. ”Lords and ladies,” he proclaimed in a disgusted tone. Arya plucked a withered crabapple off a passing branch and whipped it at him, bouncing it off his thick bull head. » Arya, ASOS

« Gendry reached out with the tongs as if to pinch her face, but Arya swatted them away. (…) Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm. She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy. He was very strong, but she was quicker. Everytime he tried to hold her still she wriggled free and punched him. Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad. He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free. Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress. ”I bet I don’t look so nice now,” she shouted. » Arya, ASOS (I couldn’t resist adding this one =D)

We also see little of her compassion. Arya is actually very caring towards people, and ASOIAF is sprinkled with moments where she shows it (when she gives water to the dying northerners (they gave this scene to Dany, the bastards), whereas she knew they raped and plundered and killed villagers, Weasel, when she refuses to abandon Lommy and Hot Pie when they clearly slow them down and she doesn’t even like them that much, Weasel, Ned Dayne that she entertains « to take his mind from his misery », and did I mention Weasel ?)

Infortunately, we see very few of them in the show, either it’s because there isn’t enough time or because they don’t deem them important (which I find unfortunate because they show that Arya is still a little girl deep down, and it’s a breath of fresh air after all the terrible things she went through). I’m afraid they’re trying to make Arya a cold emotionless assassin (especially with what awaits her after), and that would be terrible because she is definitively not that. But it’s only an assumption from me. We’ll have to wait and see.

A last thing that bothers me is how they erased Arya’s insecurities. I know they are difficult to transcribe on screen because they’re mostly thought, but I’m not comfortable with the fact they made them completly disappear. Her insecurities (towards her sister, her mother, her looks, her lack of skills in ladylike activities, the society in a whole) and how she always felt like an outcast shape a big part of her personality. They’re the reason why she is so close to Jon.

« They had always been close. Jon had their father’s face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles, and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her. » Arya, AGOT

« Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had » Jon, AGOT

They’re one of the reasons she cares so much about people of lower class (why she doesn’t care about class at all), because she never felt she really belonged to highborns.

They’re one of the main issues with her sister.

And they are deeply rooted in Arya’s mind. As far as ADWD, we find vestiges of it.

« Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. To her sister and sister’s friends and all the rest, she had just been Arya Horseface. » Arya, ADWD

This is something inherent to her, like Tyrion’s handicap (and the reactions about it) made him kinder, or more prone to empathy than the other Lannisters. Arya’s insecurities made her more prone to empathize with others (like Jon).

Show!Arya is way more confident. She hasn’t had to go through the same remonstances, or at least in a lesser scale (i.e in the very first episode, when Arya shows off demonstrates her skills at archery, and everybody laugh – even her mother. In the books she certainly wouldn’t be very happy. Or the fact we never saw Arya envy Sansa for her skills, whereas in the books she does it quite a lot). And while I obviously want Arya to be happy and confident and feel good about herself, I don’t think ignoring them is doing her a favor because they are so intrinsically linked to her, it kind of make her less complex (in my opinion of course).

Show!Arya, without them, has also more chances to fall in the easy trope of the tomboy. Book!Arya avoids it because

  1. her main issue with ladylike activities is she isn’t good at it. She doesn’t hate them (there are some she likes more than the others, like everybody) but failing everytime is quite discouraging. Whereas she is much more skilled in activities attributed to boys (riding, playing with sticks,…) so it’s normal she likes them more. But she doesn’t reject them because they are ”girly”.

  2. She doesn’t hate girls. I often see this argument when it comes to Arya, and it is so not true. She actually really likes them, especially strong women. Her heroines are Nymeria and Wenda the Fawn and (probably) Visenya. She often expresses feminist ideas (« ”The Lannisters are proud,” Jon observed. ”You’d think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother’s House equal in honor to the king’s.” ”The woman is important too !” Arya protested. » Arya, AGOT). She admires her mother and even Sansa. She always protests when she is called a boy instead of a girl, even if it’s internal, even when it could get her in trouble (when she first meet the BWB, she corrects them when she doesn’t even know if they’re rapists. Turned out they are good guys =) ). She is a girl and proud to be, and firmly asserts it.

  3. Her issues with feminity aren’t actually about feminity, but the fact she can’t conform to its typical constraints. And it’s a real problem to her, she feels really bad about it. She suffers to not be like « any other girl », like Sansa. If she could she would (and it would make her life easier), but she can’t.

  4. And if there’s one thing Arya rebels against when it comes to feminity, it’s the terrible constraints the patriarchy decreeded. Arya firmly (and rightly) believes that a woman can do as good as a man, that she isn’t only a womb and she has the right to express herself and her ideas. This is also one of the reasons why she has such troubles to mold herself into a perfect lady, because she doesn’t agree with what a lady is supposed to be.

I don’t find all these struggles in show!Arya. I get it that it’s hard to make thoughts pass on screen, but it’s not impossible. She conforms to the tomboy stereotype way more. Not being a lady is a choice, and infortunately I feel it’s based on her dislike of « girly things » more than her inadequacy to be one. (I still can’t forgive them for the « Most girls are idiot. » line. It’s scornful and so not Arya.)

So. I guess this is all. There probably are more differences but for me these are the bigger and the ones that harm Arya’s character the most. This is not to say show!Arya is lame, but for me she’s different and honestly less complex than book!Arya.

bite your tongue (swallow the blood)

NOTES — sorry followers now y’all know how deeply i’ve been sucked into solavellan hell. i just want some peace in my life, i promise, but that peace ain’t coming soon. also on ao3: []

INSPIRATION — [] by nanananananablr​, and the prompt “Forceful Kiss” by an anon. Send me kisses!

SUMMARY —  If Thedas survived, the people of the new world would spit on her name. She had the chance to save us, they would say. And she did not. Her heart was too weak to kill what it loved most.

The Veil was tearing above her, a fizzing green circle in the sky that burned wider with every heartbeat. Demons were pouring out of the opening in the Fade, and the screams of both the spirits as they twisted into something much more malicious and the forces fighting below rang in her ears.

Damn her fool heart, but she had followed him. Cassandra and Dorian and Cole had covered her as best they could as she scrambled up the rocky path he had fled, and then the Veil’s pulses as it ripped apart had sucked Cole into its invisible vortex. He had dropped his daggers and fallen to his knees and, screaming, twisted into Despair.

She had turned, her heart seizing, but Dorian had pushed her away. Go—if you can find Solas, you can stop this, before it’s too late!

And now she stood on a cliffside, broken but victorious, with him at her mercy.

Keep reading