lady-marion

young Lady Marion and Lord Lochan-Throne of glass by Sarah J Maas




(Thanks to all for like and comments<3 you are so sweet guys <3) 

anonymous asked:

Hello, I know you said you don't like receiving praises, but your art is truly fantastic! You really make the Obitine pairing "come to life". All the history-inspired art is great, too. Could you draw a Robin Hood/Lady Marion themed Satine & Obi-Wan?

Oh dear, I guess I do sound ungrateful, don’t I? Very sorry, sweet anon, thank you for your kind words, and please know that I am always happy that you like my art.

Also I am a big nerd about Robin Hood myth (Paul Creswick’s novel from 1917 with the Wyeth illustrations is my favorite version), so this was a pleasure:

Elorcan Fan-fic; angst and slight smut

Elide stood quietly in the ballroom, the stained glass windows bathed the room in hues of green. Victory was bittersweet, the war against Erawan and Mave was hard won and the road to normalcy would be difficult, the court had much to reconstruct for Terrasan and for themselves. She sucked in a sharp breath to steady herself. Would things be easier if she had the guiding hand of her mother? Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, what would her mother say today; the day of her daughter’s coronation? The wooden double doors of the ballroom swung open wildly, the Queen of Terrasan marched hastily towards Elide. She nearly jumped out of her skin, the grin on the Queen’s face was as wicked and beautiful as she was. It had taken weeks for the court to fully recover, King Rowan insisted that Aelin remain in bed resting. At first, it very clearly did not befit Aelin, but after much yelling from both parties she consigned. “Majesty! Be careful with your woun- “. Aelin took Elide into her arms, “Cut the ‘Majesty’ bull. Today is your special day! There is just simply, no way I am going to stay in bed.” The Queen beamed, the light that glowed from her Queen nearly made Elide want to cry, the sacrifice her mother made all too much sense.  Aelin’s face fell, “Elide, why are you crying? “Elide stepped out of her arms shaking her head and giggling, “You are absolutely right Aelin, this would not be a true celebration without your extraordinary taste.” The Queen grinned and took Elide by the arm, “Come I’ve made arrangements for the maids to draw you a bath and primp you for the ceremony. Everything else consider it done. The only thing you need to worry about is having fun.”

A sick panic welled up in Elide’s abdomen, suddenly everything was too fast. She was whisked away from her Queen’s side by the maids. They made quick work of undressing her and unbounding her hair from the tight knot it had sat upon her head. Steam swallowed the bathing room, a sweet smell of vanilla and elderberries peppered the air. Elide sunk into the bath with a groan, the muscles on her shoulders slumped as the knots melted off. These weeks had consumed her mind with worry so thoroughly she could not recall the last time she had a restful night of sleep. A night where nightmares were not there to shake her from her slumber. One of the misses combed Elide’s long black hair with cinnamon and elderberry oils, lathering it into her roots and massaging her scalp. The maids washed the oils from her dark locks and left the warm water running as they exited the room allowing Elide a moment to herself.

Silence was not always the best company for a racing mind. She brought her knees towards her chest and rested her cheek a top her knees. For a moment she closed her eyes and submerged her face in the warmth of the water. Dark eyes stared at her nakedness, unforgiving and calculating. But when they turned to her face they softened, his words caressed her ribs, beneath her breast, and her hips. Goosebumps speckled her skin as he moved towards her a sadness churned in his eyes, “I am sorry Elide. Please forgive me.” The roughness in his hands was tender as he stroked her shoulders making lazy circles, the heat of his breath on the crook of her neck made her knees wobble. Lorcan kissed a gently path down her collarbone as Elide tipped her chin higher lust filled hunger and heat flickered her stomach a small sigh escaped her lips. Pulling away from her neck Lorcan ravaged her with his onyx eyes as he drank in her peaked breast and shallow breath; until he gripped her wrist, tears welled in his eyes; “Please, Elide.” Pain seared her arms as he twisted harder the angular face melted into a familiar face older and sinister, a voice like venom dripped from thin lips and Vernon screamed with laughter.

Elide shot up from the bath heaving, nausea filled her. She looked around hastily; no Vernon was dead; he would never escape Hellas. At the thought of the God a certain demi-fae also crossed her mind. She shook her head furiously, Absolutely not. Lorcan was a traitor regardless of the help he provided in the war, if she never saw him again it would be too soon.

Elide sat still has the maids brushed her face with cosmetics and braided her hair into a crown on top of her head. Kohl was swept above her lashes forming a cat eye, her lashes curled and darkened, and her lips painted ruby red. Surprise danced in her eyes as she looked at the woman in the mirror. The olive of her skin was polished bringing out the light of her onyx eyes, she appeared older perhaps this façade was better fit to be Lady of Perranth then she felt. “My lady, you have a visitor.” She arched a groomed brow when the maid stepped away from the frame of the open door to reveal a different body. Elide bristled like a cat as Lorcan stood at the door with a dozen white roses in his arms. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”, she gritted through her teeth her eyes narrowing. Lorcan cleared his throat, “Today is your corona-”” I gods damn know what day it is. I want to know what made you think you were invited.”, Elide spat. She uncoiled to her feet and approached Lorcan, taking the flowers from his arms, “You can shove these right up yo-” The chambermaid cleared her throat and made a hasty exit, Elide pressed her lips into a hard line and turned towards her bed lying the bouquet sloppily on the bed. Lorcan concealed a grin behind a hand. She turned back to the chair facing the mirrored vanity and mumbled, “Insufferable bastard.”

He was towering in the, suddenly, small room and roguishly handsome in the elegant white tunic, his black hair pulled into a low pony tail. But she could not deny herself a chance to exam the thunderous rolls of muscles on his body in the mirror; she gulped. Lorcan prowled closer to Elide, she tipped her chin up in disgust, “You look lovely. Perranth will have a beautiful lady.” Her lower spine tingled as he stood behind her, so close but yet she hated the space that still separated them. Hated herself for ever admitting she wanted him closer. No, instead she rose from the chair and turned to the male with an icy smile a crude remark on her lips until, “My lady, it is time.” Mika announced. Elide allowed herself to exam his body openly, convincing herself it was to belittle him, but the predatory smile on the male’s lips told her Lorcan was not convinced with her act, something on his face was different, not quite right perhaps gaunt from whatever nightmares haunted him; she stepped around him to reach Mika.  

The gown was made with heavy silk, draped taffeta on the skirt, the bodice tight charmeuse like a second skin with a bateau neckline; oh but it was the color of the gown a deep shade of jade.  Elide wore slippers instead of the traditional heeled shoe to ease the pain in her ruined ankle. The orchestra played a playful twinkling piece as she walked with ease towards the temple grounds of the Three-Faced Goddess. A woman in an abysmal red dress stood off to the side her long silver hair whipping in the wind her yellow sharp eyes lined with silver alight with pride; Manon; Elide’s eyes watered but she held her head high. Beside the wing leader was the King of Adarlan both dressed in red although the King bore his crown. The priestess in the temple quietly sang hymns to Elide, hymns of powerful futures for Terrasan, for Aelin’s court, the hymns told of the magic that simmered quietly in Elide’s veins, and finally; the last hymn spoke of being the blessed of Anneith and ever favored object of Hellas. Her face warmed at the mention of the Goddesses’ consort but the resumption of the orchestra told Elide it would be time to for her crowning.

Elide held her breath as a silvered box marched toward her, the bearer was Chaol Westfall, the King of Adarlan’s right hand man. His brown eyes shown with pride as well, the war had brought about an unlikely friendship between the two. A silvered parure with green opals was revealed and Elide bowed as deeply as her ankle would allow her. The parure heavy with jewels and responsibility; she felt the weight of her people on her heart. When Elide coiled to her feet in front of her stood Queen Aelin and King Rowan in meek finery. “Rise, Lady of Perranth and welcome home.” Tears shone in the Queen’s eyes and both of the monarch’s bowed as she straightened to her feet. Turning to face the crowd the entire procession erupted into thunderous applause. Elide smiled a warm gentle hand squeezed her exposed shoulder and whispered into her ear, “Lady Marion would be so proud.” She swallowed the want to explode into tears and instead straightened her back; she will be strong for Perranth, like her mother was strong for her.

After the ceremony Elide strolled into the garden for a moment alone with her thoughts. She hadn’t spotted Lorcan with the other cadre during the ceremony, perhaps the weight of her words did cause the demi-fae to disappear like some genteel warrior. A knot formed on her chest, and Elide shook her head against that feeling as her eyes stung from the emotions building behind them, No, it didn’t matter she didn’t want him there to begin with not after what he had done to her queen. “I made a promise to protect you. I will not break it, Elide.” “I will always find you,” he swore to her. A sob built in her throat, naive and stupid that’s what those thoughts placed her in the shoes of a little girl.

“Elide?”, a female voice sounded from behind her and Elide straightened her spin at the cool command of the voice. Impulsively, she wiped the tears flowing down her cheeks but too late Manon turned her around and concern wrinkled her beautiful features, “What’s the matter, witchling?” Elide quivered, “Nothing, Lorcan, he … I did not…” She halted her sentence at the sight of Manon’s expression of anguish, “Oh, Elide. Lorcan he didn’t… Remember in the war he.” Elide’s world tilted,

oh yes

, a hole punched through her chest. Pain, the likes of which she had never endured, gaped below her like a sinkhole. Her soul guttered, her frame shuddered viciously.

The court had lost so many, Mave, she did not die without someone to take with her into the darkness.

Lorcan couldn’t be dead he had been in her room; by the Gods he had delivered roses!

Unrelenting screams rattled from Elide’s throat at the sight of Lorcan burning from his powers. Magic sucking the life from him, but strong hands held her fast; Choal shuddered against her thrashing.

Elide stared beyond Manon to see her court there, lips pursed, eye avoidant, and faces sullen.

“Please no, Lorcan!”

, she had screamed until she was hoarse. She had held him as the healers attempt to save him from that darkness. Tears stained her dirty face. Her nails broken and bleeding as she held him. His frame too big for her to completely engulf him with her warmth.

They had heard her conversation with Lorcan, no, the conversation she thought was Lorcan in her chamber but it had been Manon. The tears lining her eyes was not only for pride, no it was also from the pain.

Her body rattled from holding him against her, she had kissed his cold lips over and over. Not again, not another person to rip away from her. “I think… I think I loved you.” She whispered to him but he was impossibly cold, she would not release him.

No one moved for a long moment and Elide strained to still her feverish fluttering heart. She was going to combust, her bones melted as she sank to her knees. The beautiful skirt of the emerald dress puffed around her. Rowan approached her slowly, as if she were some prey but she could not find the strength to fight against the horror that washed her world.

“I wanted to go to Perranth with you.”,

they had been close to death once and he had whispered that to her. “I wanted you to come with me, to Perranth.”, Elide whispered as she bowed her head, a pray on her lips as she sent that message to Hellas himself.

iwantjoshandjenlove  asked:

Hi, my birthday is 1th of February! I would really like everlark! Robin Hood! With p as robin and k as lady Marion! Thank you so much!

Originally posted by an-unconventional-lady

Happiest of birthdays!!! The always delightful @andthisisthewonder has crafted this beautiful story, just for you! We hope you enjoy!


Mobs & Nonbelievers

Rated T

A/N: Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoy this story, and I hope you have a wonderful day!


Katniss glanced over her shoulder one last time before she turned the corner, and the lone torch went out of sight. The thin candle in her hand cast just enough light to keep her from bumping into the damp stone wall or wandering too close to the cells. There was only darkness behind the bars, but she could hear the labored breathing of the men locked down here. While she doubted they could see her clearly, she yanked the hood of her green cloak down further to cover her face.

The smell of piss and sweat followed her through the narrow corridor. Thick and overpowering, it forced her to breathe through her mouth. She kept her head down, her eyes glued to her feet. She knew conditions in the dungeon were poor, but she had never expected this. While she was sure there were some dangerous criminals down here, murderers and rapists that threatened the safety of the kingdom, she knew there were others guilty of much less serious crimes. Men who had stolen in an attempt to provide for their family or expressed their poor opinion of the king to the wrong person.

Men who refused to live with injustice, who had taken matters into their own hands.

Men who would die for the people they loved.

Men like Peeta.

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Pianoforte

I found this again recently - it was the first thing I wrote after finishing Empire of Storms, and at about 3am in a hotel room. It’s post ToG6/7, directly after the war, and Aelin just wants to play piano again. I’m just going to put this out there now before I possibly disappear for the next three weeks due to exams.


Aelin had finally found herself a pianoforte. Now that everything was well, over, she supposed she wanted to play. She’d done everything she could for her people and wanted a little time for herself, even if she’d had long enough alone in that rutting coffin. But this was different. She wanted to be here, alone for a while.

She didn’t tell anyone where she was going, or when she’d be back, because Aelin wanted a little time alone - to find herself again. Because in the war and the turmoil she was afraid she couldn’t find the essence that made her Aelin anymore.

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