rise-to-the-throne

Not yours.

There’s an explination of the fanfic at the end, because this idea is a bit strange… 

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When the team became part of Voltron, something happened to Lance. He was not the same boy he once was. Yes, he was still loud and funny, but he avoid the others by foccusing on training and spending most of his time inside Blue not letting anyone else in. 

It was fine at first, really. Shiro thought Lance was dealing with the changes on his own way. He knew this whole ‘you are now protectors of the Universe and must defeat the Galra’ stuff was hard to swallow. So he, like everyone else, gave him space. 

Of course, Shiro still visited him at nights just to talk a little. Sometimes, Hunk and Pidge were there. Sometimes, it was Keith. Sometimes, it was only the two of them. 

Shiro quickly noticed that even when Lance was really loud and open about many things, he was a very secretive person. He was always working inside Blue and doing researches in the castle’s library. Nobody knew what Lance was actually doing, but somehow, they were all fine with it. 

Hunk, unlike Shiro and the others, was not surprised at all. When Hunk met Lance, the boy had no friends at all. He liked to talk a lot in classes, made funny jokes, etc. But he never hang out with anyone. He used to spend all day in his room working on his assignments and sometimes, working in things not related to school. Whenever Hunk asked Lance what he was doing, he always told him he was only studying or doing something important. This never bothered Hunk, he just accepted Lance the way he was. 

Now that Lance was back to his old-self, ‘thanks to the stress’ Hunk thought, they had no other option than wait for his friend to feel comfortable again to go back to his happy-self. 

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After rescuing Slav, Lance started avoiding him. The both of them shared some weird glances, but never talked. Lance looked wary, and Slav was… Strange as always. Nobody truly noticed except for Pidge.

She was worried about but everytime she tried to interfire to see if she could help, Slav gave her only more stupid information about other realities and Lance just plained ignored her.

It was frustating, but she couldn’t do much thanks to the little fact that they are fighting a war and need to focus on other matters.

After defeating Zarkon and Shiro’s disappearance, Pidge finds Slav and Lance talking in Blue’s hangar. Lance hands him some papers while holding a little screen displaying some data with his other hand. They seem to be discussing something serious, and before she can get closer to listen what they are talking about, they walk inside Blue.

It’s weird and she doesn’t truly knows what going on, but she can’t truly complain when hours after that Lance starts acting like his happy-self again.

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Lotor appears. He’s smart, he’s wicked, and he’s always a step ahead of them. 

The Galra tricks them, steals the comet and makes a powerful ship with it. Before leaving without leaving a trace, he stuns and hacks the lions, leaving them useless and taking the information they had inside.

For some reason, Lance is not worried about it and he only starts training harder than ever.

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Everything happens in a blur. 

Shiro’s back. Black rejects him. Everyone keeps fighting and trying to find a new balance.

They find Matt in a strange planet as the new leader of a strong group of rebels that has been giving the Galra Empire a hard time. Pidge is happy and everyone is in tears by the beautiful moment. 

They all take a moment to relax and let Pidge, Matt and Shiro to catch up. 

Lance looks anxious, Keith is confused by this.

Then Lotor finds them and attacks them by surprise.

Most of the rebels escape thanks to Voltron, but before the paladins can retreat they get captured. Suddenly, they are now in some high security galra prison locked in diffenrent cells. 

Life doesn’t look bright for the defenders of the universe anymore. 

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The guards puts some cuffs on the paladins and guides them to the arena (not as warriors but spectators). Shiro is clearly scared, and Keith is trying to give him his support by standing close to him. Hunk is looking everywhere nervously and Pidge is trying to come up with a plan. 

Lance is nowhere to be seen. 

Lotor walks in and sits in a throne, his generals behind him.

“Greetings paladins.” 

“Where is Lance?” Hunk asks and Lotor laughs. 

“Hush, the show is about to begin.”

The gates of the arena open, and some galra soldiers brings Lance and Matt to the center. Pidge screams his name and the others just gasp in surprise. The boys are no longer in their armors, but a tight black suit. 

“Matthew Holt, leader of the Rebellion. I must admit you have proven to be quite a nuisance in my plans, but you are still a great warrior. I respect you, and that is why I’ll offer you a deal. I will free you and your friends, if you tell me everything about your little organization. Their plans, where are they hiding, everything. What do you say?”

Matt looks over where his sister and friends are a lets out a heavy sigh. 

“… No.”

“What did you say?” 

“I said, no. I won’t put the Rebellion at risk. I can’t.” 

“Well, what if i offer you something different. If you prove yourself in the Arena and become my new Champion–”

“NO!” Shiro screams and Pidge looks like she’s about to cry.

“Do you want me to kill for you, Lotor? Do you really think I would agree to something like that?” Lotor doesn’t answer, he only smiles. “No, I will never become your puppet. No matter what you offer to us, we will never bow to you.”

“Oh, really?” The Prince rises from his throne. He has a strange look on his face. “Are you sure you are speaking for all of you?” 

“… I am sure.” Matt says, and Lotor starts laughing, startling everyone. 

“Well, well. I apologise, but you are not the only one I offered something. I actually had a chat earlier with the Blue Paladin, and let me tell you, he was quite eager. I think, he’s really happy with our deal. Aren’t you, Lance?” 

Everyone is now staring at Lance with wide eyes. Keith feels angry, Hunk doesn’t know what to believe, Shiro and Pidge doesn’t understand what’s happening. Lance doesn’t react, he only gives Lotor an angry glare. 

“Bring Matthew here. I want him and the paladins to enjoy the show. Please, someone get his opponent, we are about to begin. Lance, dear, choose your weapon.” 

The soldiers free the boy and steps aside. In the box in front of him there are no long range weapons, so he chooses a sword. When he turns around, instead of a warrior Lance sees a small alien tied to a chair. He raises an eyebrown. 

“What is this?” 

“Your first task is to kill that man over there. He is innocent, he hasn’t commited any crimes in his life. He’s a nobody, really.”

“Then why would you want me to kill him?”

“I want to see if you are capable of doing what’s necessary to become my Champion.” 

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.

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Lance takes a deep breath and walks towards his victim.

The team starts screaming his name, begging not to do it.

He shares a glance with the alien, they are looking at him with wide eyes filled with tears and fear. 

“Please, don’t–!”

“… I have no choice.”

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.

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Silence from the crowd.

There’s a purple blood dripping from his sword.

Lotro smiles and they bring another prisoner, the real fight starts this time.

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Lance fights. 

He amazing, he’s ruthless, he’s terrifying and the paladins feels at lost. 

He kills all of his opponents. No matter how big or strong they are, Lance’s wins everytime. 

Never showing any mercy or doubt. 

A month passes. Lance is officially the new Champion, and he’s better than Shiro was. 

It’s terrible and they don’t’ know what to think of their friend. They don’t know what Lotor offered to Lance, but they know it’s really important if Lance is willing to kill in cold blood anyone who steps in his way. 

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Lotor makes Matt face Lance in the Arena. 

Matt tries to talk to Lance and make him see reason. For a few moments, Lance seems to listen. But then Lotor reminds the boy they have a deal, and just like that, the former Blue Paladin returns to the fight and without hesitation he takes his sword and aims for the heart. 

Matt is not fast enough. 

They fall together to the ground. 

Pidge screams. 

Everyone looks pale. 

The crowd is cheering. 

Matt opens his eyes and looks down. Lance holds the hilt of his weapon, but there is no sword. His armor is glowing blue, like an energy shield around him and everything falls into place. 

“It was a trick.” Lance said after a few seconds. 

“Of course it was, Lancey dear. Do you truly think I would let you kill him? He’s important, I need him alive. But you’ve done and incredible job.”

“You just wanted to see if I was capable of killing one of them.

“Yes, and you passed the test.”

.

.

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Nobody can look at Lance the same way anymore.  

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.

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The Princess and the Blade of Marmora finds them. They escape, and even when Lance has the chance to go with them, he stays. None of them, not even Hunk, makes the attempt to convice to go. 

Time passes. Matt becomes the new Blue Paladin, but not truly. He and Allura shares the Blue Lion. She accepts the both of them, but she still doesn’t seems happy to choose a new paladin. They know the one that she wants is Lance, but… Everything is complicated now. 

They keep fighting. 

One month passes, then two, then six.

Lotor has mastered the quintessence. He’s strong, he’s dangerous, and he can travel through realities now. 

It’s tough. It doesn’t seem real. But they are able to neutralize Lotor. It’s not forever, but thanks to the aid of others they are able to stop the Galra Prince at least for a bit. 

His ship is heavily damaged, and they sneak in while the Blade and Rebels fights the Generals.

They are ready to face Lotor now. He’s alone in his quarters, they have him trapped. They are about to get inside when they hear a familiar voice.

“You promised to me!”

“I will give you your prize after you kill the paladins.”

“… I won’t.” 

“Really? Well, then I guess you and I have no deal.”

“You son of a–!"  There’s screaming, and even when none of the paladins can see what’s going on they can guess the both of them are fighting. Then a strange silence arrives, and carefully, they enter the room. 

They gasp. 

Lotor is dead, and there, holding the decapitated head of the Galra Prince with one hand, covered in blood, panting hard, with a lost look in his eyes… Is Lance. 

“I should’ve done this since the beggining.” Lance whispered, mostly to himself. 

“Lance?” Hunk asks with tremor in his voice. The boy jumps and looks at the paladins with surprise. 

“Guys…” 

“…Lance, why don’t you… Leave the sword and…  Come with us–”

“Are you crazy, Shiro?! He tried to kill Matt! And look what he did here!”

“Pidge is right! After everything he has done–!” 

CLANK!

Lance’s sword hits the floor. 

“It’s ok, I don’t need it anymore. I only need this.” He says, refering to the head and before anyone can ask him anything there’s a big explosion and everything goes black. 

Lance takes this moment to run away. 

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He lifts the head to the monitor wich scans Lotor’s face. Some gates to a strange laboratory opens and Lance runs inside. In the middle of the room there’s something similar to a cryopod with a person inside. 

Lance takes a big breath and puts his hand over his mouth. 

It’s him. 

He touches the panel of the pod with hesitation, and aftter a few second the pod opens, letting a man fall to the ground. Lance walks towards him and kneels. He caress his cheek with the back of his hand. There are tears falling from his eyes now. 

“I found you, I finally found you.” He whispers.

The man stars coughing and opens his eyes just to close them again, trying to adjust to the light. 

“Where I am?… I-Isamu? Is that you?” Lance smiles and tenderly kisses the man’s hairline. “H-how?” 

“Shh, it’s ok. You’re with me now, Sven. Don’t worry. I got you, buddy.” 

He spent several years looking for him, and now, he wasn’t to let him go. 

….

Let me explain, Lance is not Lance, he is Isamu. And he never got over Sven’s death, his lover. Then, he finds out he wasn’t truly dead but lost in another reality… So, after defeating the Galra in his own reality, he starts traveling others in hopes to find his lost lover. Unfortunately he gets stuck in one, the vld-reality where he changes his name to Lance. 

He finds that the in the reality he’s stuck in, according to a certain alien who knows he doesn’t belong there, he has a 97% chance to find his lover! But the thing is, Isamu makes mistakes, and those mistakes reduces or incresees his chances. Now, you must understand here that Isamu is trapped in a loop. He’s bound to repeat that reality over and over again until he finds Sven. 

So, what does he do? He makes research, he starts working hard to see what path should he take next and this rises his chances of fiding Sven. 

That’s why he joins Voltron.
That’s why the Blue Lion loves him so much (him and Sven. No matter the reality, she still recognize him as her pilot) 
That’s why he avoids Slav at first, because he knows the alien can feel he doesn’t belong there. 
That’s why he lets Lotor take away his information. Because the Prince has the ways to find his lover for him. Because he knows if he doesn’t let Lotor take the comet and everything else, he won’t Sven. He let Voltron have the comet in one reality, and it reduced the chances of finding his lover to 0.
That’s why he joins the arena.
That’s why he stabs Pidge’s brother. He already knows that Lotor wasn’t going to let him kill him. 
That’s why he stays, and does everything the Prince says. 
But he kills Lotor because he’s tired. He never did it before, that was new. And that, was the final step he needed to get his lover. 

I had more in my mind, about the team fiding the truth. About seeing Sven and his relationship to Lance and learning how he was never Lance, but Isamu, a paladin from another reality. But you know, I’m tired of writing and i’m still writing the 5th part of in reverse so… Let me guys know what you think about this crazy idea i had. 

anonymous asked:

Can you give us some book recommendations?

Okay book recs. Oh my god I have so many. I have a question after this that say’s POC book recs, so I’m going to keep this post to book recs that arent poc to keep these separated just for the sake of the anon’s that asked. 

Red Rising by Pierce Brown (Trilogy with a new book - a ‘spin off series’ coming out next year) - I will fucking promote this book series until I die. This is hands down, one of the best books I have EVER read. Honestly, for me it sort of beats out Harry Potter (Which if you know me, I’m obsessed with. I mean, I had a Harry Potter Sweet 16. [I’m from Long Island. Everyone there has a Sweet 16]) Not only is Red Rising extremely diverse and beautifully written,  but the storyline is incredible and the characters literally jump off the page. I dont think I’ve ever read a more human character than Darrow. Honestly PICK UP THIS BOOK. IT NEEDS MORE FUCKING ATTENTION. 

^^^^bolded it so people know that this is the best book ever and needs the read. 

Abarat by Clive Barker (Four books so far) - Now, this may not be everyones cup of tea. Maybe because I’m a painter, I appreciate him more. But his books are wonderfully illustrated with his paintings that follow along with the beautiful storyline. I recommend this book to the fucking stars. Its a fantastic story with amazing paintings. (Clive Barker, for those who don’t know, also created Hellraiser [Pin Head] and Midnight Meat Train along with a plethora of other stories. It’s worth the read.)

Song of Achilles (novel) - I mean, If you want to fucking CRY  then this is the book for you. It’s so fucking depressing but so FUCKING GOOD. I mean, if you know the story of Achilles, then you know why its depressing. But that doesnt take away from the beautiful story between Achilles and Patroclus. Definitely recommend this book. 

Along with that last book, a book that I feel goes hand in hand with it:

Captive Prince by C. S. Pacat (trilogy) - Now. A lot of people have a problem with this trilogy. I personally, as a (mixed, black) poc, have no problem with this book. It’s about two kingdoms, one of poc, Greek-like, and the other of boujee af french-like, white kingdom. In short, the Prince from the Greece inspired Kingdom is framed and shipped away to the french kingdom as a slave. Now, he becomes a slave (as a dark skinned man) to a white prince. There are a lot of things that happen like he gets whipped and other horrible shit. People have a problem with the book because of the dynamic between the two. They find it racist and insensitive. Here’s a great post as to why people don’t like the post, and the second comment is why I read it. I honestly find it to be a beautiful story that develops amazingly over time. I definitely recommend it. 

Kids of Appetite by David Arnold (novel) - I’ve just recently read this book and I absolutely fucking loved it. It’s an extremely diverse, beautiful story. Personally, I found the story sad, funny, heart warming, and inclusive. They brush upon the difficulties that black men specifically, have with the judicial system, by having an African man whom is loving and kind, constantly blamed for crimes that he did not commit. Again, it’s a really lovely book and this stuck with me for a very long time. I really recommend it. 

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness (novel) - If you don’t want to fucking SOB then don’t read it. If you want a beautiful story, I recommend this book to the stars. Honestly, I went into the book not knowing shit about it, just that people loved it. Then I realized that it was about fucking cancer and I was about to throw my god damned book because I don’t fend well with sad things. THEN I found out that it’s also now a movie with Liam Neeson. Ugh. I havent seen the movie yet, but damn was this book magical and heart breaking and wow… Read it. I personally fucking loved it. 

Fangirl  by Rainbow Rowell (novel) - I mean, I feel like this book actually summed up my early college experience lol! I was writing fanfiction, roleplaying, cooping myself up in my room - the only difference was, I didnt have a quirky, beautiful, sweet man to hold me as I read outloud to him (if you read the book, then you know what I’m talking about). Honestly, this was a fucking amazing book and I loved it so much. it was feel good and extremely nostalgic for people of my generation (’94-’96 specifically) really well. If you loved Harry Potter, grew up with it, went to the midnight book releases and movie screenings, submerged yourself in the fanfiction, then you will love this book. I thought it was fantastic. 

which leads me to this rec. 

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell (novel) - Ugh. So in fangirl, there’s a fanfiction that the main character is writing. I know that this book is not the fanfiction, but it is named the same thing - so thats a nice connection. Again, if you love Harry Potter, if you love shipping Drarry (i dont because I find it problematic. But I feel if you like Drarry) then youd love this. I mean honestly, if you just like a cute story, with ridiculous spells, and adorable love, then read it. If you love Harry Potter ESPECIALLY READ THIS BOOK. 

Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor (Trilogy) - Okay. Honestly, I havent seen many people promote this book series, but it is amazing and arguably, one of the most beautifully written trilogies that I have ever read (besides Red Rising. Ahem. Read it). It’s a wonderful story that comes together beautifully and is such a different book from your usual YA. 

The Archived by Victoria Schwab (Series of two) - So, if Victoria Schwab sounds familiar, that’s because she also goes under V.E. Schwab okay. Listen. I know that everyone loves A Darker Shade of Magic. I havent finished that book yet and I bet it’s amazing. However, we cannot forget the other amazing books she has written. The Archived is such a lovely, creative story that deserves more credit. Honestly, I’ve never read a book like it before and it stuck with me for an extremely long time. Apparently there is a third book coming out that I have actually been waiting for forever. I’m not going to say much about it, but these books are wonderful and deserve the read. 

Speaking of V.E. Schwab

Vicious by V.E. Schwab - This book deserves more recognition. Not only is the cover absolutely AMAZING, but the story is fuckign awesome. If you like Brandon Sanderson books, if you like superheros or Marvel and DC, read this fucking book. It’s fantastically written and needs to be read more. Get on it people. 

I mean, these are just some books. I purposely stayed away from some YA  series because I feel like a lot of people know about them. But I mean, some YA series that are well known that I like are:

Obviously Throne of Glass by Sarah J Maas

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas

The Darkest Minds  by Alexandra Bracken

The 5th Wave by Rick Yancy (ONLY THE FIRST FUCKING BOOK. THE REST OF THE SERIES IS SHIT AND IF YOU WANT TO JUST READ THE FIRST BOOK THATS COOL. COME TO ME AND I’LL TELL YOU THE REST BECAUSE THAT SHIT WAS RIDICULOUS. IT HAD SO MUCH POTENTIAL, IF ONLY RICK YANCY DIDN’T SHIT THE BED. ALSO THE MOVIE WAS SHIT)


So anyway.. i think this is all I’ve got right now haha. I’ll put my favourite books written by poc in the anon above this!  

Viserys x Female Reader

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Imagine being Viserys’s wife and queen of the Seven Kingdoms where you are known for your feisty yet caring nature.

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\ Request from anonymous /

You have no idea how much I’ve missed your imagines!! I was wondering if you could do an AU plot where Viserys is Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and the reader is ruling with him as his Queen? ♥ Hope you’re having a wonderful week and thanks in advance, darling~!

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Cold Hearted (Prince AU) Part 6

Originally posted by sugaglos

Requests are closed!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8,  Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Word Count: 6559

Warnings: Blood, Smut (in later parts)

Jaebum sat on his bed and untied his boots. He pulled off his jacket and undid the cuff links of his shirt, going through the simplistic motions of getting ready for bed as he did every night.

He wasn’t used to these feelings. He didn’t consider himself as very emotional, war tended to favour the more stoic man; someone who did not get shaken by death or get jerked around by feelings.

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Imagine a sterek Merlin AU where Stiles is a young warlock with incredible magic powers that he must keep secret from the world. Seeking guidance from the court physician, Deaton - a druid who keeps his magic a secret - Stiles moves out of his small home town in the country and into the glorious town that surrounds the castle: Beacon Hills.

Originally posted by dylanobrienbr

When he gets there, he gets in trouble with a young abrasive man who turns out to be the crowned prince, Derek Hale.

Originally posted by sterek

Later that evening, Deaton has to attend a court dinner and Stiles has to join him becasue Deaton refuses to let him out of his sight or else he’ll get into trouble. While at the castle, Stiles uncovers the plot of a witch who is going to make an attempt on Derek’s life. Stiles stops her but has offended the court with accusations of an attempt to poison the crowned prince. Peter, the king, orders him to drink from the chalice; if he is so sure it is poisoned then he will save Derek’s life, if it is not then he he shall live to apologise.
Derek stands up for Stiles, saying it’s absurd and tells Stiles he doesn’t have to; he can just apologise. But Stiles is certain. He drinks from the chalice and collapses; poisoned and now dying.
Deaton rushes to Stiles’ side, but there isn’t anything he can do.

Derek, out of gratitude, seeks to find the one thing that could save Stiles’ life: a little yellow flower that only grows in one place and blooms for only one night a year. But little does he know that the witch who poisoned the chalice has followed him and intends to kill him and leave Stiles to die.
But Derek is not alone either; all the time, Stiles is unknowingly casting magic from his deathbed.

Originally posted by wseagull9

Derek completes the quest and saves Stiles’ life and, when he recovers, Stiles is taken in as Derek’s personal servant. 

Stiles half expects Derek to make his life miserable and he refuses to be treated like a servant, but he soon finds that, behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, Derek is someone completely different: he’s an orphaned child who was taken in by his uncle and who grieves the death of his parents and his sisters. Stiles finds himself looking at a reflection of himself when he lost his mother.

Derek is secretive at first but he eventually opens up to Stiles and the two become close friends. Stiles now has to keep his powers secret, which is becoming increasingly difficult with the number of magic-based attacks that fall upon the city and the many attempts made against Prince Derek’s life and Derek’s attempts at being heroic by saving Stiles from those who try to kill him.

Slowly, the two grow closer until they’re more than friends.

Originally posted by alina-horanx3

Stiles slowly grows into a confident, powerful warlock, helping Derek rise to the throne and rule the kingdom; building a legend.

Originally posted by mrshirlings

(and I just wanted to add this gif becasue it’s pretty)

anonymous asked:

are there any bottom tony fics you can recommend?

All right, Bottom Tony fans, buckle up, ‘cause here we go!  These range from fluffy, happy sex to much darker, so heed the warnings.  They are mostly fics that are porn without much plot, though there are a lot of great fics that have actual plot and feature bottom!Tony.  Check out my Stony Fic Rec Masterpost for other recs.  

Please feel free to add you own suggestions or self-rec!  

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Yes, you have told me over and over again, in a hundred different ways, but I am slow, Anaïs, slow perhaps because it is such delicious torture. It is like waiting to see you rise from your throne.
—  Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin featured in A Literate Passion: Letters Of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller (1932 - 1953)

DEVILISH INTENTIONS 

by: @kylo-renne​ + @kyloholic

Summary: Kylo Ren is cursed to live his life alone, that is until an angel catches his eye. 


There was a faint sound of child crying that disrupted the peace and quiet around you. No, it was a baby… An infant. You could hear its wails as if it was hollowed out by a wall beside you. Lifting your head up as you could sense—and feel the distress—your heart ached. “Y/N, your time has come.” A heavenly voice spoke behind you. “You are ready to protect and watch over your first soul.”

Turning in your spot, you took in a deep breath and nodded. You had waited an eternity for this, to become a guardian angel. It was your sacred duty to watch over those who needed it the most. Those weak and fragile, young and oblivious… Even those who were unaware of the dangers the path they had been taking. And your first soul: a new born child.

As if within a blink of an eye, you found yourself in a hospital. Although the nurses surrounding the mother at the bed couldn’t see you, you could see them. You could feel the despair that filled the air. The mother was dying and the child was going to be left alone. No father, no sibling, no family. No one. And it was now your job to protect the child and find it a proper home.

Turning your attention away from the mother as you could feel her life slip away from her body, you shut your eyes for a moment before turning to the infant. Seeing it rest in the small cradle. Although it’s mother had been dying, the child was fast asleep. You knew you had to act quick, it wasn’t long before the child awoken.

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2

STAR WARS >> A Song of Ice and Fire AU

Mad King Sidious still sits the Iron Throne.

It’s been twenty years since Lord Qui-Gon Jinn of Winterfell, Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Eyrie, and Lord Bail Organa of Storm’s End flew their banners against the Mad King, and lost.

It’s been twenty years since Prince Anakin vanished — presumed dead, defeated by his friend-turned-enemy, Lord Kenobi.

It’s been twenty years since Princess Ahsoka fled across the Narrow Sea, to faraway lands, to self-exile, fearing her father’s wrath after pledging her support to the failed rebellion.

No one knows what, precisely, triggered the rebellion. No one knows what occurred between Lord Kenobi and Prince Anakin to make them enemies. No one knows what happened to Lady Padmé of Highgarden. Under the Mad King’s rule, no one dares to ask.

Though protected by his loyal Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Vader (whose face none have laid eyes on), and staunchly supported by Lord Tarkin of Casterly Rock, Sidious’ legacy is meaningless without heirs.

Lord Bail Organa understands this and bides his time. He readies his men to someday rise again. He can wait. When Lady Mothma of Highgarden steps into her father’s role, he senses a shift in the winds. Mothma no longer supports the ruler in King’s Landing as her father once did, and Bail knows she hopes to avenge her beloved sister, Padmé. Behind the flowered walls of the well-renowned garden, Mothma enlists the help of Ser Draven and begins to raise an army.

To put a final end to murmurs of rebellion, Sidious greenlights a plan guaranteed to keep the Seven Kingdoms under his thumb. Lord Tarkin both funds the project and tasks his maester, Orson Krennic, to oversee it. Facing a dead end, Maester Krennic seeks his former peer, Galen Erso, who left the Citadel years ago to marry Lady Lyra of Riverrun. When Galen refuses, Krennic convinces Tarkin to lay siege to Riverrun. In the ensuing battle, Lady Lyra is killed, Galen is captured, and their missing daughter presumed dead.

Lord Bail’s time to revolt finally comes years later, when a sailor flees Lannisport bearing a grave message. Upon hearing of it, Lady Mothma and Ser Draven send his best knight, Ser Cassian Andor, to locate the message. Taken in by the volatile Saw Gerrera and his Brotherhood Without Banners, the sailor is unreachable — until Ser Cassian tracks down the long-lost Lady Jyn of Riverrun and convinces her to help. The rebellion is then horrified to learn of Sidious’ devastating secret: a seemingly infinite store of weaponised wildfire. Lady Jyn and Ser Cassian lead a mission to infiltrate Casterly Rock and steal the schematics for this weapon in hopes of uncovering a way to combat it.

Hiding in a small boat in Lannisport harbor, Lady Leia of Storm’s End is ready to retrieve the plans. Her attempt to flee Tarkin’s ships forces her north, and a terrible storm carries her even further adrift, until she finds herself far beyond the Neck, further North than she’s ever imagined. With no other choice, Leia heads to the Wall, to Castle Black, where her father has promised her she can find his old friend, Lord Kenobi.

Far away, beyond the Narrow Sea, the Dothraki Sea, and the Red Waste, another force rises. The wind carries whispers: Princess Ahsoka lives and plots to depose her father once and for all. Rumors burn hotter than wildfire: the princess has tamed three dragons, and she’s finally set her sights on Westeros. Whether she’ll ally with Bail’s rebellion remains to be seen.

Luke Snow knows little of the political machinations playing out in the lands far south of his home. All he knows is the hardship of winter on his aunt and uncle’s farm outside Winterfell. He longs to take the black and join his friends on the Wall; the Night’s Watch is said to be the most noble of callings. Yet his aunt and uncle refuse. “Your father was defeated in combat,” they tell him. “Farming is safer.” “Just till the end of the season.” All too soon, his wishes are realized. Though the Night’s Watch meets few of his expectations, he finds a mentor in the Lord Commander Ben Kenobi, who discovers an even greater evil than Mad King Sidious festering far beyond the Wall.

When the cold winds of the North fling rumors of both Leia and Ahsoka at his door, piling like drifting snow, Ben Kenobi must face a harsh truth: the prophecy Prince Anakin believed in is true, and now his sister and his children must rise above the game of thrones and meet their destiny in a song of ice and fire.

A new hope is coming.

anonymous asked:

Hello sabre :) I am in love with your CN fic and I was wondering if you can make fic recs for us, with Stony age difference but where Steve is the older and Tony is the younger one in the relationship. Just like your CN fic! Pretty please?

Sorry it took me so long to reply.  I had to dig a bit.  I honestly don’t read a whole lot of age difference fics with Tony as the younger one.  I tend to like it the other way for some reason.  But, there are a few that I would definitely recommend and if other people have ideas they want to add, please comment!

Hard Rock Swing by copperbadge:   It turns out, in the 21st century, Steve’s best friend is an eighteen-year-old genius named Tony Stark. This might be trouble.

Teenage Dream by Etharei:   “That,” says Tony, tone unmistakably smug despite his split lip, “is Captain America. Who, by the way, happens to be my godfather.”

Full Disclosure Not Required (But Appreciated) by @potrix-the-queerschlaeger: The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well.Almost never, anyway.

 We Are Far Too Young and Clever by @laudatenium:  In his head, he knew Tony was still a kid. Suffering from shell shock and whatever emotional abuse Howard had managed to put him through.But even with that, Tony somehow rose above it all to become extraordinary.He was a teammate, a genius, and a friend. He was terribly mature for his age. Tony was Iron Man, not Iron Boy.Despite everything, there still stood an age difference of ten or seventy-six years, depending on your calculation.But his heart was telling him not to listen.—-AU where Tony becomes Iron Man at 16, an Avenger at 17, and Steve’s … infatuation at 18.

Claiming a Fallen Prince by AgentC:   Steve rises up to take the throne after winning against Stane’s Regency. However, as custom dictates, he must claim someone of the old regime in order to fully gain his rightful place. His eyes are set on only one–the fallen prince, Tony.  (Note that this is like a DARK version of CN in some ways and you should definitely mind the tags on this one, so it might not be what you are looking for, but this is one of those fics that always stuck with me)

The Longing and the Yearning by @sineala:   The year is 1963, and Colonel Steve Rogers has been the Iron Man since 1940. His recent brush with death in a fight against the Hulk has left him scarred, broken, and – unwillingly – in retirement. He’ll never wear the armor again. Tony Stark, the new owner of Stark Industries, is young, brilliant, ambitious, and he has a few ideas of his own about the next Iron Man. But when Tony shows up at Steve’s door one evening, the conversation quickly turns to matters other than business. Tony is smart, gorgeous, half Steve’s age, and he’s definitely not offering what Steve and his lonely fantasies wish he were offering. And even if he were, Steve should definitely not take him up on it.

And I hope you have all you dreamed of by Kairin16:  The world Steve wakes up to from ice has no need for Captain America anymore. Looking for his place in the new world, Steve gets hired as a bodyguard to the heir to Stark Industries, seventeen years old Tony Stark. Turns out it was both the worst and the best thing that could happen to him.

In the Eyes of a Boy by stonyinspirationwriter:  Based on a prompt where Steve Rogers never crashed the plane, nor was he ever frozen., but a major side of effect of the Super Soldier serum proves to be the inability to age. After suffering a personal loss, the birth of Steve Roger’s Godson, Anthony Edward Stark, turns out to double as his own rebirth. What begun as a father-son type relationship turns into an attraction once Tony becomes an adult. Steve is now forced to deal with his crippling guilt from last night’s actions.

Please remember to leave comments and a kudos for the author!

The King

Summery: The crowned prince, Adrien Agreste, makes a run for it after being accused of killing his mother, the Queen. So he leaves his life of luxury, saying goodbye to a broken hearted king and a broken hearted Marinette. Soon, he meets a pair who teach him how to forget the past. But the Kingdom soon falls into chaos. It’s rumored that the King has gone mad. Will Adrien return to take back the crown?

Prologue

Once there was a King and a Queen who were loved throughout the lands.  They had a son, prince Adrien, who everyone adored.  There kingdom was ruled in perfect harmony and everything seem just as it should be.  But there were shadows lurking in the castle, waiting for their opportunity to rise up and claim the throne.  

“Your highness, please!  You mustn’t go there—not before dinner!”  Adrien’s Nanny, Nathalie, chased after him.

He giggled as he ran through the halls, “I promise, I’ll only have a little bit!  Mother and Father won’t even notice,” he tried to bargain, taking a sharp turn and going down another hallway.  He could hear Nathalie running closely behind him, continuing to tell him to stop—but she was too late.  Adrien creaked open an old wooden door, stepping inside to the most wonderful smells.

The bakery.

But no one was inside, Adrien noticed.  He knew Nathalie would be close behind him, so he hurried to the table and tried to reach up to grab something—anything—so long as it was sweet.

“H-hey!” A small voice peeps up behind him.  Adrien goes ridged, freezing in his spot as he slowly turns his head towards the voice.  “You’re not suppose to be in here, and hands off my papa’s muffins!”  Before he could even respond, she ran towards him and pinned him to the ground.

Adrien’s eyes blew open wide.  She was a little girl, probably the same age as him, with raven hair and big blue-bell eyes.  And had she not looked so angry, Adrien may even consider her cute.  Well, that and the whole tackling him to the ground part.  

“A-ah, sorry,” he stared blankly at her.  So close, he thought.  “I wasn’t going to take them, I promise!” he defends himself, “At least, not all of them,” he mumbles.  “And could you please, get off?”

She huffed, but listened and stood up, releasing her grip on him.  “My papa won’t be happy if his muffins get stolen, they’re for the King and Queen tonight,” she told him, her chin pointed upwards.

“The King and Queen?” he echoed, “W-well, I’m suppose to take it to them!” He blurted out.  The perfect excuse, he grinned.  At the tender age of seven, Adrien thought he was pretty smart.

The girl peered at him, “Really?” She asked, seemingly not believing him.  “Then why were you being so sneaky about it?” She questioned him.

Suddenly the door slammed open, revealing Nathalie.  Her eyes landed on Adrien and then flicked towards the little girl.  “Lady Marinette,” Nathalie addressed the girl.

Adrien’s head whipped back towards the girl, “You’re a lady?” He asked, surprised.

Marinette almost looked offended.  “Of course I’m a lady,” he crossed her arms.  

“But why are you in the bakery?  And your father’s a baker, isn’t he?” Adrien looked sideways at her.

“My father’s a very successful man, I’ll have you know, he just enjoys baking,” Marinette’s cheeks grew red with indignation.

“Oh… okay,” Adrien nodded.  Suddenly remembering the other person in the room, he desperately tries to get himself out of this situation.  “M-miss Nathalie, I-I promise I didn’t take anything.”

“Ha!  So you weren’t going to bring them to the King and Queen!” Marinette pointed, but Adrien seemed to ignore her.

“Young highness, you mustn’t be getting treats before supper,” Nathalie scolded him.

“I didn’t have one, I swear!  A-ask her!” Adrien pointed to Marinette to find a look of shock on her face.

“Y-y-your h-highn-ness?” She stuttered out as a wave of nerves rushed over her.  Suddenly she bowed her head and bent her knees, giving a formal curtsy and greeting.  “M-my sincerest apologies, y-your highness… For earlier, had I known…” the sentence fell from her lips as she whispered in a high and small voice.

“Come on, we must be going.  Supper will begin any moment now,” Nathalie opened the door behind her and motioned for Adrien to leave with her.

Suddenly discouraged, he nodded.  But, looking behind him, he smiled, “It was nice to meet you, m’lady,” he grinned.

Whatever embarrassment had washed over Marinette before seemed to disappear, although Adrien could still see a tinge of red dusted across her cheeks.  “D-don’t say things like that you—you—you… mangy tom-cat!”  

And the door closed.


So, I’d like to make a story heavily influenced by The Lion King, but with slightly different plot points and obviously some different characters.  So, I decided to make this little short to hopefully introduce my new story, King.  So, as I said above, since it’ll be influenced by The Lion King, I figured I’d say what song inspired which chapter as I write more.  (Obviously this chapter didn’t have one since I’m just introducing it…)

So, imagine Plagg playing the roll of Timon, Nino as Pumbaa, and Adrien as Simba, (Hey, spoiler alert, since Mufasa dies in The Lion King, there’s gonna be a death in the next few chapter and I’m sure you’ll figure out who it’ll be… rip) so when Adrien runs away from the castle, he meets Nino and Plagg.  And I’m not gonna reveal much more of my ideas from there.  (Besides that Marinette and Adrien will eventually get together :3c)

Anyway, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Lines of Love and War

Here is the first chapter of the Mulan inspired Nessian fic! It takes place in the ACOTAR realm, but with slight variations to fit the storyline. Nesta meets with the town’s matchmaker and discovers that her potential husband is tied in with a war that is about to unfold against Hybern. It is up to Nesta to join the ranks of fae and human alike to save not only her sister, but all of Prythian. 

Lines of Love and War : Chapter 1

The twittering of maids about the drawing room put Nesta in a state of disinterest that shifted to annoyance. One of the maids was brushing her hair in an attempt to control the golden brown locks. The regal and untamable air Nesta held about her made many compare her to a lioness with a personality to match as well.

A sharp tug of the brush made Nesta almost emit a snarl. Her inner wildcat itched to be free from this conventional ritual of preparing her for a visit to the town’s matchmaker.

The very thought of it made Nesta sick with worry. Not because she was anxious that she wouldn’t find a match. No, she feared that the matchmaker would pair her with one of the men in town.

More like savage brutes. Nesta thought as she glared at herself in the mirror.

Her makeup was done in an attempt to make her look more warm and welcoming. Nesta almost laughed at the maid’s efforts. No amount of makeup could ever take away her cold and serious demeanor. Her blue-grey eyes were a brewing storm beneath rose gold eye shadow and a thin line of kohl.

The makeup was better suited for sweet Elain. Of course all this primping and glamouring was all for the sake of her little sister. Nesta had already lost one sister. She couldn’t bear to lose Elain either. If Nesta could secure a marriage then Elain would be free to not be forced into one.

“It is time,” Mrs. Laurent said. The older woman stood waiting in the doorway with Elain looking on with a smile lighting her face.

“You look so beautiful Nesta!” Elain took in the efforts that the maids put forth.

Nesta stood from her chair. A queen rising from a throne. Her lavender gown trailed the floorboards with sheer folds that resembled smoke following her every step. Her hair was undone except for a few intricate braids that were pulled up to resemble a bun.

“There’s just one thing missing,” Elain trailed off and brought forth a gold bracelet inlaid with one small diamond. It was their mother’s bracelet. Elain delicately slipped the bracelet on her elder sister’s wrist.

It felt like a shackle to Nesta. The thin gold band mocked her in the gleaming morning light that streamed in the window. It seemed as though Nesta would be forever caged to duty and suffocation of the customs expected of her.

“Thank you Elain,” Nesta murmured for what else could she offer her sister. Her slight breathless tone not caused by awe of the gift, but by how tight her corset fitted her body. Still Elain’s actions were good in intent. Nesta could not fault her sister in that regard.

“Let’s not dally any longer,” Mrs. Laurent broke in rather abruptly. “We must head to town immediately. With any luck you will be matched with a husband by the end of the day.”

As they walked out the doorway Nesta heard one of the maids whisper that they had all better pray to the gods if they ever hoped that Nesta Archeron would tempt a husband.

Nesta held back a string of words. She was not one to take gossip and insults at face value. So long as the people she loved most truly understood her, then that was all that mattered. And Nesta could not care less for meddling maids.

Nesta, Elain and Mrs. Laurent boarded a carriage that took them to the matchmaker’s home. Nesta stepped out of the carriage with a ceremonial candle that must remain lit during the procession ladies conducted outside of the matchmaker’s home.

It was ridiculous in Nesta’s mind how a woman seeking a match would have to wait another month if her candle flickered out during the turn about the property. A gust of wind could blow out the flame as anyone walked the path leading to the doors of the home.

She was half tempted to blow out the candle herself, but after having done so three times already in the previous ceremonies was starting to bring shame to her family. If she couldn’t even handle keeping a tiny flame from going out how was she to be expected to take care of a husband and household? 

Townspeople already spread rumors about Nesta. She couldn’t care less, but then those rumors turned toward her family. That was the moment when Nesta decided to see this day through without a problem. Or at the very least try. Still she felt that she was going to need a lot more assistance to get through this day that would test her patience.

Gods hear my plea. Nesta thought silently. I ask only one thing. Please protect my family. Whether it’s at the cost of my happiness or my chance to be free.

She would give anything so long as her family was safe. No matter the price she would pay it.

And so it began. Nesta followed a line of girls making her the fifth and last to walk down the cobbled path toward their destination. The townspeople followed not far behind. Elain and Mrs. Laurent watched from within the crowd with their hopes set high for a good match for the eldest Archeron sister.

Elain could only hope that her sister found a suitable partner that would truly love Nesta.

The flame of Nesta’s candle danced as she treaded down the stones. It was amusing to watch. It seemingly begged for attention and its small warmth was the only comfort on Nesta’s walk. Her lips revealed the smallest of smiles at the small glowing fire.

Too soon the group arrived at the doors of the matchmaker. They kneeled on the small colorful rugs laid out for them so that their dresses would not get dirty. No sooner had they reached the ground the doors clamored opened revealing a woman holding a notebook and quill pen.

“Nesta Archeron,” The matchmaker called with her quill poised on paper.

Nesta rose and in a neutral tone announced her presence.

The matchmaker made a noise of disappointment and marked something in the notebook. “Speaking without permission…”

Annoyance flared in Nesta as she trudged up the steps to follow the matchmaker inside. The doors banged shut behind her.

“Have a seat,” the woman directed to a small table with two chairs and tea set.

Nesta sat down in front of the matchmaker and placed the still lit candle on the table. She found her gaze occasionally straying to the flame during the questions and tasks that the matchmaker asked her.

Pour the tea. Speak only when first spoken too. Use a demure tone of voice.

The matchmaker paused in making her notes after drinking a bit of tea Nesta had poured for her. From the disappointed look on the matchmaker’s face Nesta could only assume that her marks were not satisfactory.

“Let us presume with the readings,” the matchmaker unfurled Nesta’s birth chart with circles, numbers and symbols. Her fingers began skimming the paper. Pausing on certain marks and making notes to the side of the paper.

Nesta watched intently. She wondered how a suitable partner could be found with such charts. Apparently readers could determine many things based on these symbols and overlapping patterns that Nesta could not understand.

“Oh my…” the reader stopped and looked back and forth between three symbols.

“Am I to forever be a spinster,” Nesta joked lazily. “Or maybe it says I am to meet my end while walking down the steps to my home.”

The matchmaker looked up at Nesta. Panic seizing her eyes before blinking to contain her concern.

“Your chart mostly consists of lines that overlap so closely together that they almost form one joined path, which itself is quite rare. Those lines denote inner power of control and the ability to shroud your intentions, but they are such thick lines that it represents a vast amount of strength.”

Nesta didn’t say anything. Many knew she was closed off and was not a person who formed many friendships. Still…the woman’s claim was too close to the truth. The truth that she and her sisters descended from a mother who was fae. And that Nesta’s ability did involve a form of a mental shroud from those who would seek to read her thoughts or alter her perception of the mind.

The matchmaker paused. “Your family line meets with two lines…one of love and the other of war…and those two lines actually brush against each other.” She pointed at the pink and red lines that did indeed touch, but never crossed.

“They are not overlapping yet they still connect,” the matchmaker explained a bit perplexed. “This means that you will meet your husband due to some event related to your family from some sort of battle. Whether that be internal or external is impossible to decide.”

“So that means my husband is a soldier perhaps?” Nesta quirked a brow. There was talk of an impending war. The fae and human lands knew that Hybern was becoming a threat they could no longer dismiss. Maybe a regiment would come through town and Nesta would be proposed to by some poor soul who was going to war to face monsters that could only be dreamed up in nightmares.

“Your line of love and war directly connects your birth sign with a sign across the chart,” the matchmaker pointed out Nesta’s swirl shaped birth symbol linked with one resembled a sun with a dot in the middle. “That sign,” the matchmaker tapped the sun, “is your…significant other.”

On the table the candle’s flame flared brightly and swayed back and forth excitedly. Yet no wind stirred in the home.

Nesta and the matchmaker watched the flame in awe and shock. Nesta personally felt spell bounded by the display. Too soon the flame calmed, but the smell of earth, sweat and spice filled the air. Distantly Nesta thought she heard a clang of metal along with a deep laugh.

“Strange,” muttered the matchmaker toward the flame. “Although this would make sense considering your potential husband is a fire sign.”

“Great,” Nesta said sarcastically. “That means he’s more than likely loud, rambunctious and out of control.”

The matchmaker shrugged slightly as if it wasn’t her problem before turning back to the chart. “There is another line though that grabs my attention.”

“You say it as if it means something terrible,” Nesta pointed out the nervous halting words the matchmaker spoke.

“That is because I see that your line of death crosses the ones of war and love,” the matchmaker admitted cautiously. “And it is tethered between the start of your war and love lines leading through the section of ascendance and between two birth symbols.”

“Which means?” Nesta implored.

“Death can mean many things beside the literal term, but either way your path to it starts the same time that you will begin the path of love and war. With it running into the ascendance that means sacrifice on your part. And the catalyst of your death is strangely pointing directly in the middle between two signs. So your death could be the cause of two people or –”

The matchmaker sucked in a breath. As if a fright overtook her.

Nesta sat at the edge of her seat. The hairs on her neck rose. Foreboding filled the air.

“Or what?” Nesta breathed.

The matchmaker looked up at Nesta. Fear clear in her eyes.

“Or something inhuman. Something that is best to be avoided.” The matchmaker stood up suddenly. “I believe you should leave at once. Your session is over.”

“Can you not tell me more?” Nesta questioned. Something about her chart set her on edge. She wasn’t one to believe in such things, but her feelings did not sit well at the moment after the latest reveal.

“No,” the matchmaker began pushing Nesta to the door. “And do not ask me again.”

“But –” Nesta tried to question the woman more, but the doors opened and the matchmaker all but tossed her out.

“Do not return!” The matchmaker wildly exclaimed. Loud enough that the townspeople heard and gasped in shock at the sight before them. The doors closed and Nesta was standing there perplexed beyond anything until the whispering of the townspeople stirred her to move.

She walked pass them all with her head held high. Elain weaved through the crowd and clutched her elbow.

“Nesta?” Elain worriedly looked up at her eldest sister. Confused at the matchmaker’s apparent distressed actions.

Mrs. Laurent stepped in front of them before Nesta could say anything. “To the carriage. Now.” Her face was unhappy and disappointed. It was obvious that a match had not been made for Nesta to be married.

Nesta didn’t argue and neither did Elain. Soon they boarded their carriage back to the manor. It’s green roof and gardens planted by Elain gave Nesta a sense of ease. But she knew something was coming. A storm brewed violently and Nesta knew she had to act.

When they arrived home Nesta went to her room to remove the makeup and hairpins. No sooner had she pulled out the last pin a maid knocked on her door and entered at Nesta’s reply to enter.

“Miss there is a…fae man outside requesting an audience with the head of household,” the maid wrung her hands nervously.

Since Nesta’s father was away on trade business in a neighboring country that left Nesta in charge.

“I will be down momentarily,” Nesta replied still seated on the vanity seat and removing the last piece of jewelry from her body. The maid left to go back downstairs to notify the fae of Nesta’s soon arrival.

It was a matter of importance that Nesta rid the fae from their property. Enough fae folk had ruined the Archerons. She did not intend for any to linger and cause more trouble for her family.

Just thinking about the time when Feyre was stolen away by the High Lord of Spring made Nesta clench her fists into her dress. It had been months since Nesta had last seen Feyre. She was a changed being. Literally.

But so too was Nesta and Elain after all these years. The three Archeron sisters gifted with fae powers.

Nesta glided down the stairs and toward the front entrance. Outside there was indeed a thin looking fae male. He wore glasses and dressed more like a scholar compared to the two fae guards that accompanied him.

“I presume you are the eldest Archeron?” The male asked.

Nesta stood firm just outside the doorway. She closed the door so that the conversation was private from the ears of the prying staff.

“I am,” Nesta replied. “What business do you have with us?”

The male pulled out a parchment. “We seek soldiers for the upcoming war with Hybern. It was agreed between both the human queens and the high lords and ladies of the fae lands that each family must have one member volunteer for the armies.”

“But my father is away on business and my sister and I are the only ones here,” Nesta supplied. “Do you expect families to offer soldiers when no member is suited for battle? What of the families with younger children? Would you take their fathers from them for this war?”

“If we do not have soldiers then those children will have much more to worry about then being fatherless,” the male admitted. He handed her the rolled up parchment. “You or your sister must join the ranks. If not then the paper will enact a curse upon your household and randomly select one of you to be chosen.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Nesta growled clenching the paper tight. “I will die before letting Elain anywhere near a battlefield.”

“Then I suggest you make your decision by nightfall,” the male pointed toward the paper. “Use your blood and thumbprint as a signature on the contract. Once that is completed you will be magically transported to one of Prythian’s forces where you will be trained.”

“Which army will I be selected for?” Nesta knew Prythian had seven courts. Each had an army of it’s own.

“The magic will take you to the one that you are destined for,” the male eerily replied.

Nesta stared the male down. Hating the fae even more for jeopardizing Elain. They had already taken Feyre from them. She wasn’t about to lose another sister.

“If there is nothing else for you to say then our business is done,” Nesta concluded stonily. A clear sign the fae were to leave at once.

The three males didn’t say farewell as they walked back down the road from which they came. Nesta imagined that once they hit the tree line they would whisk away with magic.

Upon returning inside Nesta met Elain as she walked in from the dining room.

“Who was at the door?” Elain asked with a tray of tea in hand.

The war contract felt heavy in Nesta’s hand. Discreetly she stuffed the paper into the folds of her dress making it impossible for Elain to see.

“Men who had lost their way and needed directions,” Nesta lied. “They have left now so we need not worry about them.”

“Oh.” Elain cocked her head to the side. “Well I suppose we could have tea together in the study perhaps? I’m sure you want to finish the book you’re reading right now. And maybe we can talk about what happened in the matchmaker’s home?”

Nesta would tell Elain that her potential husband was a fire sign, but the other details would have to be left out. She wouldn’t worry Elain about the death and war lines that were crossed.

Instead Nesta put on a rare smile solely reserved for her sister. One in which she removed her indifferent mask and revealed a more gentler side that few had ever seen.

“I wish you could have seen the matchmaker’s face when she saw my love line,” Nesta said. “Or the horrid fact that it connects with someone with a fire sign.”

Elain giggled. “Only someone of fire could handle you Nesta. It will be exciting to finally meet him! Especially after you broke off the courtship with Thomas.”

Nesta’s throat lodged at the mention of Thomas. That monster had left horrible memories. The sound of her dress ripping. His fingers gripping her wrist so tightly that bruises marked her skin. Luckily she escaped before it went any further, but the fear of his name still lingered.

The sisters entered the study with Elain softly humming a tune that was secretly known to help flowers blossom. The roses on the small table proved that point when their color turned a more vibrant healthy shade of red.

Perhaps one day Elain could live in a place where she didn’t need to hide her abilities. A haven where she could flourish like the plants she helped thrive. Nesta too wondered if there would be a place for her as well. But her powers brought destruction. Not life like her sister.

Even Feyre had shown promise in her abilities before being taken by the High Lord of Spring. But it was too late to change the past. And now Nesta focused on ensuring a safer future for Elain.

Hours later the Archeron estate was silent in the middle of the night. A thunderstorm could be heard rumbling in the distance. Nesta sat alone in her room in front of the unlit fireplace using the light of the moon to read the papers that would bind her as a soldier in the war against Hybern.

She read over each line carefully. Scrutinizing the words until she could practically recite them back from memorization. Then the noises of the night quieted. Dead silence filled the air and Nesta looked up from the paper.

“Hello human,” a voice spoke out from the room’s shadows. Nesta startled. She rose from her chair and snatched a letter opener from the table.

“No need for that,” the voice said. It sounded old and young, beautiful and grotesque. “Your meager weapon would be no match against my kind.”

My kind.

“What are you,” Nesta questioned in a ragged breath wondering what sort of monster lurked in her room.

“You’re not asking the right questions.” Click, click, click. Its fingernails tapped against something in the dark.

“What are you,” Nesta demanded again.

Quiet. Then a scratchy release of breath that reminded Nesta of an annoyed sigh.

“I am a creature of no Court and older than the bones of this world.”

Nesta’s heart pounded in her chest. “Then you’re a fae from Prythian?”

A rasping laugh from the darkness sent Nesta’s skin crawling.

“My kind are called Suriel, but I had expected that the eldest Archeron would ask better inquiries. It’s no fun if you don’t play.”

“You think this is a game,” Nesta took a step forward brandishing the letter opener. “I have read about your species. Do not think you can toy with me and give riddles for answers.”

“So you are smart for a human,” the Suriel said. “But then again you’re not entirely human.”

Nesta froze. She stared deep into the obscured corner of the room where the Suriel waited. Slowly the shadows of the room stretched out. But those were not shadows. Dark tattered robes moved into the moonlight. A tall, thin veiled figure appeared with spindly arms sticking out from the sleeves.

The urge to run flooded Nesta. Flee and warn Elain to escape from this frightening faerie. Run and keep running and never look back.

“Now,” a lipless mouth spoke around too-long teeth. “Ask me the question.” Milky white eyes of death and sickness watched Nesta deliberate the statement she just heard.

“Why are you here?” Nesta asked quietly.

“To assist you on your journey,” the Suriel replied. “For you have potential.”

“You speak about the war.” It was not a question. What other journey would Nesta dare to take with the threat of her sister being taken in her place if she didn’t? “And how do you propose that a wraith should be beneficial?”

The Suriel placed a long yellowed nail to the corner of its mouth. It tsked in disappointment. “Have we not established I am a Suriel? It would seem obvious what I can offer in times where you are confused and in need of answers.”

“So you’ll just come at my beck and call?” Nesta snorted in disbelief. “I very much doubt that and I don’t intend to have a debt hanging over my shoulder for your assistance.”

“My presence will come forth when I choose so and a form of payment will be made upon my answers given to your questions,” the Suriel agreed. “Most of the time I prefer coats, but lately I’ve been desiring socks.”

Nesta considered the words. Having the Suriel as an ally would be an incredible asset. “Fine. But I leave tonight for war.”

The Suriel gave one nod with a sharp smile. “But of course. I already knew that.”

Without a second thought Nesta tossed one of her crocheted scarves at the creature. “That is your payment for tonight. Next time I expect clear-cut answers. No toying around with words. And no damned answers with hidden meanings.”

“Oh, but we shouldn’t make promises that can’t be kept,” the Suriel sprung across the floor in a flash and darted out the open window. It was all but a dark blur in the moonlight as it escaped to the Wall bordering human and fae lands.

Nesta heaved a sigh of relief and closed the window. Her gaze returned to the parchment on her writing desk. It would be midnight soon. Her time to be spirited away to one of the Courts was drawing nearer.

With her remaining time left Nesta wrote a letter. One that explained to Elain that she was going to be away to help the fae and humans fight against Prythian. She asked Elain not to follow her, but instead look to safety in case the war did not end in their favor. She apologized to her sister. Wishing things were more peaceful and that their home was whole and full of love that had been taken from them years ago.

A shuddering choked sob caught in Nesta’s throat as she signed her name along with her hope to see Elain in the future again. Softly Nesta crept out of her room and down the hall to Elain’s room where she placed the note and their mother’s bracelet on the bedside table.

As the final hour of the day was about to draw to a close, Nesta used her sharpened letter opener to make a small cut on her thumb. The blood welled on the skin before enough had been drawn out.  Steadily Nesta brought her thumb down on the paper. Immediately she felt magic thrumming after she had sealed her life to battle.

Her own magic swelled from within the deep trenches she kept it buried. It coursed through her veins in a matter of seconds before suddenly the ground disappeared beneath her. Nesta tumbled in darkness. Panic rushing in her stomach as she fell into nothingness.

Then her body collided on something hard and cold. Nesta sucked in air with a gasp as she stared up into darkness. No. There was something bright shining above her in a sea of darkness.

Stars.

Nesta was alive looking at a night sky filled with stars. She sat up and rubbed her back which took the brunt of her landing.

“Damn fae magic,” Nesta grumbled thinking it was quite a ridiculous way to transport people to and fro. She couldn’t imagine how the humans dealt with such an abrupt method of travel.

She turned her body around at the sound of deep laughter and male voices in the near distance. A camp of sorts was set-up a little over 100 yards from her. Large fires pits illuminated the area filled with crude tents that were constructed a safe distance around the burning flames. Along the tree line a dozen buildings of gray mountain stone stood tall as smoke puffed from the chimneys.

Nesta shivered in her attire. She had worn a long nightdress to bed with boots for her journey, but this cold seeped deep into her bones. Wind howled like wolves across the bare rock and mud that Nesta walked on. Her feet carried her closer to the camp. Each step closing the distance between her and a fate that danced with war and love.

And Nesta’s gait did not falter in the face of what was to come.

Next Chapter

✯  Masterlist of Chapters

Kingdom of Cards AU

{Palette’s backstory}

Dream was a village healer, not many excitement happened in his life. Until after a war…He was recruited by the King too help any wounded soldier. Granted…Dream thought the job was a huge deal so he took it willingly, but ended up getting sick from lack of sleep. Ink…or the original King of Hearts saw this and felt slightly bad, so he took Dream and took care of him back in the castle. A few months had passed, Ink and Dream had become very close. Ink wanted Dream to become the Queen…Dream then accepted in some shock. Even more months passed and the Kingdom kept growing, new people going in and out, a thriving market, everything was beautiful, and when word got out the Kind and Queen were going to have a child…Well the whole kingdom was overjoyed! And so the day came, the baby was born with the mark of a ruler. When a King or a Queen has a child, if the child is to carry on the throne it takes the mark of a kingdom. The young boy or “Palette” as he was named was born with a heart to replace one of his star shaped eyes. Ink was proud that the legacy would continue; Dream was just happy in general! Growing up the kingdoms positivity gave Palette a cheery disposition, he would most commonly be found helping out with anything he can in the main village. Years had passed and the time had come for Palette to rise to the throne, however it was very quick as Ink was stuck in a battle with the “Demon of Mischief” *cough cough Error cough* Nevertheless Palette was thrilled and took the Kingdom into his own hands both proudly and carefully. A few months then passed and everyone was happy except for the royal family…Ink was gone, taken prisoner and no one dared to go after him. Dream was trying his best not to grieve. However Palette was bothered by the fact he had to find a wife…it bored him. Until a meeting of the 4 Kingdoms…2 out of the 4 Kingdoms were always closed off to the public. But Palette couldn’t help but stare in awe at one of the new leaders…

{Goth’s backstory}

Geno was the original King of Clubs, the kingdom was quiet and never involved in much which made it perfect for him. However another leader had his eyes (or lack there of idk) on Geno for quite awhile. Death…the King of Spades would always tease the other leaders after Kingdom meetings, almost never stopping especially not when it came to the Kingdom of Clubs. Geno mostly would ignore Death but then the comments started to become flattering. Now Geno never thought ANYONE could actually like him…A few years after, Geno and Death had gotten friendly…too friendly XD. Death wanted Geno to become his Queen but he knew Geno had his own Kingdom. But Death asked anyways…and Geno accepted. A new ruler rose to the throne in the Club Kingdom, then closing the boarders for good. The Kingdom of Spades was dull, the citizens were rude and judgmental, not to mention didn’t seem to like the royal family. Eventually a prince was born. He was born with the mark of a ruler…however it was a club not a spade. Death felt some what enraged but decided not to show it; Geno was worried as this meant the deal he may with the other Kingdom would break perhaps leading into a war. Goth as the prince was named grew up lonely, hiding his marked eye from any outside of the castle. The Kingdom grew to know him as ‘The Isolated Prince.’ Therefore when his parents mysteriously disappeared one night, Goth was forced to take the throne at a fairly young age. Many citizens questioned his rule as no one had seen his eye, which led him to close the borders to any other kingdoms or people, he did this to avoid suspicion. Years passed, Goths parents had not returned and he’d been pestered by the thought of finding a loving partner. He knew no one would be able to put up with him, no one could match his personality or his attitude…Months passed and he finally had to leave and go to a Kingdom meeting, but he couldn’t concentrate with a certain leader staring him down…

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Wow…this took forever!!! Oh well designs will be out later!!

KoC AU - Me and @pwnage101

Goth - @nekophy

Palette- @angexci

FE8 Paired Endings, English vs. Japanese

For the most part, the English endings were pretty faithful to the Japanese versions, but I found some interesting points that were either lost or ambiguous in the English version. Because of the way the languages work, the Japanese version can fit more info than the English version can. So most of the paired ending changes amount to having an extra sentence or so.

Tana and Cormag - The Japanese version has an added detail that Cormag quickly became Tana’s close aide after he was knighted into Frelia’s service, and she placed an enormous amount of trust in him.

Joshua and Natasha - JP version states that the reason why the nomadic Joshua stayed put was because he had a beloved wife at home. But nothing changed his gambling addiction.

Joshua and Gerik - In terms of the ending, it’s not much different. But it details that in Jehanna’s prosperous years after Joshua’s rise to the throne, Gerik was always by his side.

Eirika and Seth - Their ending in the JP version makes a bit more sense than the English one, given the context of their A-Support. Seth was opposed to the marriage between a royal and her vassal, but with Ephraim’s matchmaking and Eirika’s strong will, he decided not to suppress his feelings anymore and agreed to marry her.

Franz and Amelia - It details that their daughter had Franz’s faithfulness and Amelia’s cheerfulness. Also, it’s implicit in the English version but the JP version explicitly says that their daughter served in Renais’ army.

Vanessa and Innes - Vanessa and Innes became lovers and were never married (English version just says that she moved into Castle Frelia, JP version explicitly says she moved there to be Innes’ 愛人, which means mistress/lover). When they had a child together, nobody kicked up a fuss and their child was regarded as a blessing to all, so possibly Innes never married to begin with (or Frelia has no stigma against these things).

Garcia and Ross - Ross’ son’s favorite phrase was “I want to be manlier than even dad and grandpa!”

Kyle and Lute - The biggest change I’ve seen so far. The “and Kyle dedicated himself to his [son’s] upbringing” doesn’t exist in the Japanese version at all. Instead, it takes the “Lute studied their son’s baffling habits” line that’s also in the Artur-Lute ending.

L’Arachel and Innes - Like Seth-Eirika, this pairing makes more sense in the JP version. It explains that because of their constant attempts to outdo one another, sea trade between their countries flourished like never before. And then they fell in love.

Gerik and Tethys - Details that the two were perfect partners, and they lived happily ever after. (This “lived happily ever after” appears a lot in the JP FE8 paired endings.)

Myrrh and Saleh - At first, the villagers wanted to worship her from a distance, which made her withdraw from them. Saleh served as a mediator and communicated her feelings to the villagers.

Ross and Amelia - Also ends with Ross’ son’s favorite phrase, but without the grandpa part.

Innes and Eirika - The feeling of the ending is a bit different. Unlike the English version where she “acknowledges” her feelings for him, the JP version uses the same language as with Seth in his ending with Eirika; she couldn’t hide her feelings for him anymore or she realized just how much she liked him.

Eirika and Saleh - While the English version says that Eirika and Saleh married, the Japanese version only says that they lived together in Caer Pelyn.

Seth and Natasha - The English version says that “The reconstruction of Renais kept them busy,” while the JP version details that Seth was so busy that he couldn’t even afford the time to sleep, and Natasha helped him to the best of her ability.

8

Bound By Duty

Jaime marries Ned Stark’s daughter upon the king’s command. Lyarra is a capable lady of the Westerlands and a dutiful wife, but when war breaks out between the Starks and the Lannisters and her family is left broken and divided, the little wolf of Casterly Rock becomes the she-wolf of Winterfell. In a war between wolves and lions, the Queen in the North will rise. Jaime/OC

Jealousy Pt. 4

Robb

Robb watched as Arya got into a fight with one of Aegon Targaryen’s men. He couldn’t hear what the two had been talking about, so he didn’t know what had started the fight, though he had a fairly good idea. All Robb knew was that Arya had thrown the first punch. Now she was rolling around on the ground, straddling the man and landing punches where she could. At first, the man didn’t seem to want to hit her back and settled on defending himself, but when Arya hit his nose so hard it started bleeding, the man’s face contorted in rage, and he lashed out.

When the fight had first begun, Robb had been amused. But then he’d met his lady mother’s eyes, and she had mouthed at him desperately to go intervene.

Robb was halfway across the hall when another figure was swiftly accosting Arya. The next moment Gendry was clutching a struggling Arya in his arms while the man cursed at her from where he lay sprawled on the ground, blood pulsing from his now crooked nose.

One cold, threatening look from Gendry later, the man shut up, though he continued glaring daggers Arya’s way. Gendry half-dragged, half-carried Arya away and back toward the high table, toward Robb. She was still struggling, even against Gendry’s arms.

“He was calling you a bastard and a liar and a craven,” Arya snarled over her shoulder at Gendry as they neared Robb.

“Who cares? He’s just sore because I beat him and his little friends in the practice yard.” Gendry tried to reassure her.

As they approached him, Robb grinned. “You gave him a good beating, little sister. Best hope it doesn’t reach the prince’s ears. He won’t be happy to hear you bloodied one of his men.”

Arya’s eyes flashed. “Best hope he doesn’t reach me or he’s next.” Arya snapped. “He’s the one going around telling everyone Gendry didn’t really fight in the war. And he’s saying all Gendry did back then was dishonor me.”

Robb’s cheeks pinked at the implication about his sister, but it was Gendry who responded.

“He’s another one who’s just sore ‘cause he lost to me.” Gendry chuckled to the girl half gathered in his arms. Robb knew he wasn’t referring to the practice yard either.

Robb fell into step with the smith as they headed toward the high table and away from the ruckus.

“Put me down,” Arya finally stopped struggling and just grasped at Gendry’s hands wrapped tight around her middle.

Gendry stopped there in the middle of the hall then. “Only if you promise not to go back and finish him off.” Gendry’s voice was firm, though it hid a laugh.

Arya glared over her shoulder at him. “You’re right,” she finally relented, “he’s not worth it.”

Gendry relaxed his arms around Robb’s little sister, and she slid down to her feet, still leaning against the smith.

“You don’t believe anything they’re saying, do you?” Gendry was leaning down to murmur into her ear.

Arya spun around and punched the smith so hard in the shoulder that he flinched. “Of course not, you stupid!”

“Arya,” Robb warned. “Mother is watching.”

Gendry had caught Arya’s wrists in one hand. “Then what does it matter what they say? As long as you know what’s true.”

Arya groaned in frustration. Heeding Robb’s words, her eyes on the high table, she let her arms drop.

Robb turned to see Catelyn staring sternly at Arya. Catelyn’s eyes met Robb’s. She jerked her head towards Arya, and Robb knew his mother wanted him to escort Arya away before she got into more trouble. When Robb turned back to do so, however, the smith was, as always, ten steps ahead. He had Arya’s elbow in one hand and was leading her out of the hall.

Another pang of impatience colored Robb’s insides. Robb was glad the smith had been close at hand to stop Arya fighting, especially before the other man had managed to retaliate in kind, but he also felt a pinprick of irritation. He’d been on his way to carry his sister off and would have gotten there in enough time. He hadn’t needed Gendry’s interference. Robb shrugged the feeling away. It was good Gendry had been there.

The smith usually was though, before anyone else. Just the week before, Arya had climbed halfway up the broken tower to rescue an injured crow that perched on a broken brick that jutted out and away from the tower. Robb had run with a long rope, up to the castle parapet and along it until he came to the broken tower. He had planned to drop the rope to her so she could tie it around her waist in case she fell. When Robb had gotten to the tower window, the smith had already climbed the tower behind Arya. Gendry had held the injured bird delicately in one hand and climbed down slowly below Arya to catch her in case she fell.

Another time, Arya had gotten into a fist fight with Elmar Frey, one of the hostages that Robb’s lord father Eddard had demanded of the Freys for the assurance that they would not rise against the throne. The man was larger than her and managed to throw in a few good punches that left Arya bruised. Then Gendry had been there, had tugged Arya away from the fray before replacing her fists with his own. Aegon’s man today had only been lucky because he hadn’t had the time to hit Arya back. The Frey boy had been bedridden for weeks. Robb’s father had forgiven the infraction only because Gendry had been coming to Arya’s defense, as much as Arya insisted she hadn’t needed the help.

To put it mildly, when it came to his littlest sister, Robb felt misplaced these days. Ever since she’d finally come back. The Starks had all been so happy to see her, the last of them missing. Arya was alive. That was enough. No one wanted to make her do anything she didn’t want to do lest she run away or disappear again somehow. Be a lady. Be polite, even. Wear a dress. No one made her stay away from the smith either. Soon, before they realized what that really meant, it was too late. Now, Gendry went wherever Arya went, and she didn’t need her big brothers anymore. Like the rest of them, Robb had been surprised that, out of all the Starks, Arya had been the one to come away from the war with a true match.

The next morning, Robb rode out with Gendry, Arya and Rickon, along with a handful of his lord father’s guard, to the wolfswood to ride and hunt. Ned Dayne and Aegon insisted on tagging along. Despite Arya’s obvious proclamation of a choice of suitor on her name day, along with his brother’s legitimization of Gendry, Dayne and the prince both did not seem to be getting the hint. At least not enough to stop pursuing his sister.

Gendry and Rickon led the column side-by-side, followed by Robb and Arya, the rest of them trailing behind. Arya wore her brand new sword, from Gendry, proudly on her hip. Her name day gift from Robb, the bow and arrows, she wore slung over her shoulder.

To Dayne’s obvious pleasure, Arya rode her new sand steed; from where he rode behind them in the column, the boy kept reminding Arya of her promise to race him on the horse.

“A sand steed,” Aegon snorted. “I’ll bet you a hundred gold dragons my courser can beat yours at any race.” The prince challenged the Dayne boy haughtily.

Dayne watched Arya as he spoke. With a chuckle, he said, “I’ll take that wager, but you may as well hand the gold over now.”

Meanwhile, Arya was laughing at something Gendry had just told Rickon and was not paying the slightest attention to the men behind her. Rickon had taken almost as well to the smith as Arya had. Most like because of his experience with Arya, Gendry was good at anticipating Rickon’s wild tantrums or outbursts. Nothing the boy said, no matter how bloody or shocking fazed the smith.

“A stag!” The younger boy shouted excitedly. With that, he bounded off across the open field, digging his heels into his own horse, a spear, one of his only remnants remaining from Skagos, clutched tightly in his right hand.

Gendry turned swiftly toward Arya, as if for permission. “Go,” she urged, and Gendry trotted off after the younger boy.

Robb laughed along with Arya, watching the bull chase the wild wolf. Gendry was still not perfectly accustomed to sitting a horse, and his large size made him look awkward in the saddle.

“When is the wedding, little wolf?” Robb teased Arya so as not to be overheard.

She turned a bright red. “Shut up!”

“Lady Stark and Lord Baratheon.”

“Don’t!” Arya threw a chestnut at him now from her saddlebag. It bounced off his leg. “It’s just Arya. And Gendry. Or stupid, if you want.”

Robb laughed. “I can’t be calling my lady sister stupid.” He protested in jest.

“I meant him,” Arya growled, but started to laugh along with her brother all the same.

“They’re off to kill a stag, and he is a stag.” Robb nodded towards the retreating backs of Gendry and Rickon.

“He’s not a stag. He’s a bull.” Arya protested. “A stupid, stubborn one.”

Robb laughed again. “Aye, that’s more fitting. You’ll be needing a new sigil then.”

Another chestnut got Robb in the side of the head, and he laughed as Arya argued, “I’m still a wolf. Don’t make me prove it.”

“Well, then, little sister. You going to make him take your name and sigil then?”

“And why not?” Arya challenged him, then scoffed. “Who says we have to get married anyway? Mother?”

Robb was almost taken aback. “Don’t you want to?”

Arya was, in turn, taken aback. “What’s the difference? Whether we marry or not, he’s mine.”

Robb laughed now. “Might be the only way to get rid of these buggers.” Robb tossed his head backwards to indicate he meant the prince and Dayne.

Arya spared a moment to frown their way. “We’ll see.” She shot back.

“Ready to race?” She asked the two behind them bluntly.

Both boys rushed forward on their horses.

“Will you give me your favor, my lady?” Dayne winked at Arya, and Robb had to hold back a groan.

Arya just grinned wickedly. “My favor will be not throwing you off your horse, Dayne.”

“To the lake.” Arya commanded.

Robb completed the count. At ten, the three were off, their horses kicking up clots of dirt and grass in their wake.

Robb and his father’s men trotted behind them at a distance. From where he was, Robb could see that Arya had quickly gained the lead. It wasn’t simply that Arya was lighter or knew the terrain better than the other two. She was a true horse woman of the north. She’d been riding since before she could walk.

Slowly, Dayne was gaining on Arya, and Aegon on Dayne. A light mist began then. The morning had been cloudy and the sky had threatened thunder and rain. Arya nearly stood now in her stirrups. She disappeared over a knoll, Dayne and Aegon as well seconds after. Robb raced ahead now, somehow uneasy. Nymeria, Grey Wind and Shaggydog had disappeared to hunt almost immediately after they had left the gates of Winterfell. Robb didn’t like losing sight of his sisters outside of Winterfell. He usually didn’t mind, as long as Gendry or Jon were with her. But Jon was far away in King’s Landing and Gendry had run off after Rickon.

Robb finally crowned the same knoll, to see that Arya and Dayne were neck and neck, Aegon trailing a yard behind.

Suddenly a chill ran down Robb’s back. He felt the shadow approach before he actually saw it. Looking overhead as he rode forward, he saw the unmistakable shape of a large flying beast, obscured by the clouds. Viserion. Ahead, Aegon, looking unconcerned, was slowing his horse to a trot. As the dragon descended, Aegon stood nimbly in his saddle. The dragon neared the three riders. Arya only just then noticed, swiveling sideways in her seat. Her face was one of pure annoyance. Obviously Aegon thought he was being clever; if he managed to mount the dragon, he’d arrive to the lake before the other two with long moments to spare.

Suddenly, as Viserion fanned his wings out to their full width in order to reach the height of Aegon’s horse, Arya’s steed reared. With her eyes still behind her on Viserion, Arya hadn’t been expecting it. She fell sideways in her saddle, losing the reins. She would have tumbled off completely, except her left foot was caught in the stirrup. She hung off the side, her face and hands dragging along the rough terrain until she hoisted herself up as high above it as she could. Robb choked back a breath and spurred his own horse, already foaming at the mouth, forward that he might catch her before she was dragged again or thrown off completely.

Ahead was pure confusion. Aegon didn’t seem to have realized that Arya was in danger. He was swinging himself precariously onto Viserion’s back. Dayne was spurring his own steed, so as to catch up to Arya’s. Dayne was gaining, but on the wrong side of the horse. Were Arya to fall at that moment, Dayne’s steed would trample her. Robb’s own horse began to rear as it got closer to Viserion, who was again beginning to ascend. Aegon, it seemed, had only begun to grasp the consequences he had wrought with his stunt.

Robb kept a tight hold on the reins of his horse, urging it forward. Standing in his own stirrups and leaning forward, he found himself catching up to Arya and Ned Dayne. Dayne was attempting to lean off his own horse and pull Arya back up. Instead, he should have been trying to get control of the horse. Arya was yelling something unintelligible at Ned while, at the same time, trying to lift herself up with only the strength of her middle. Her face was red and scratched from where it had dragged along the tree roots and stones before managing to lift herself up. Her face was pale and twisted in pain, and Robb could now see that her leg was twisted at an unnatural angle.

Worry and anxiety rose in him like an overflowing fountain. If Dayne had not sidled up so close, Arya would have been able to twist back up into her saddle and gain control of the steed. The steed. Robb cursed out loud. He shouldn’t have let Arya race on a horse she was unfamiliar with. This was the first time she’d ridden the beast, so it could not know her, and she could not know the horse.

Dayne finally seemed to have gotten the message and was falling back to swing around Arya’s horse. But Robb had finally gotten there first. He swung his own courser around Arya’s steed and rode side-by-side the steed, leaning over unsteadily until he caught the reins in his gloved hands. Slowly, Robb eased the horse to a trot and then to a stop. Ignoring Dayne’s pleas and request of Arya’s well-being, Robb hoped lithely off his horse, throwing the reins at Jory Cassel, who had been on his heels the entire ride.

“Arya.” Robb’s hoarse voice begged.

She was groaning in pain, hanging directly down off the side of the horse now. “Get. Me. Off.” Arya said through clenched teeth.

Robb circled around her and lifted her torso up. She hissed in pain at the way that movement jostled her leg.

“I’m sorry, love.” He held her close, as Jory untangled her leg from the saddle and stirrups. Arya cursed the entire time, and to his own pain, Robb saw tears streaking her dirt ridden face.

Dayne was at his side now and helped Robb drag Arya down off the horse and to the floor. Arya cried out loudly when her leg hit the floor.

Suddenly, before Robb could stop her, Arya had reached her left arm out and smacked Dayne stingingly across the face. He stepped back in shock, holding one palm up to his red-tinged face. Robb crouched down next to her and held her hand. She squeezed his own hand painfully.

“I told you to get away,” Arya was sobbing and clenching at her knee, toward her ankle, with her right hand. Several of the cuts on her face were bleeding freely, her blood mingling with the salt of her tears and running down her face. “I needed the space to sit up and grab the reins.” She cried out again when she moved her own leg accidentally by shifting where she lay.

“I’m sorry, m’la-.”

“What’s going on?” To his credit, Aegon’s voice was genuinely worried.

“You!” Arya snarled through tears. Though it caused her great pain, Arya wrenched her hand out of Robb’s, reached over her shoulder and nocked an arrow to her bow, quicker than Robb could stop her.

Aegon’s mouth was an ‘o’ of surprise, and he lifted his hands slowly in surrender. Thankfully, he’d left the dragon far behind, else they might all be charred by now.

“What made you think,” Arya said through clenched teeth, “it was a good idea to bring a dragon down on horses?”

“Arya,” Robb said carefully in a low voice. “That’s your prince you’re aiming at. The king wouldn’t be pleased to know it.”

“Jon would do the same,” Arya argued with a glare, but she lowered the bow all the same.

Robb couldn’t say she was wrong.

“I thought you were supposed to be clever.” Arya told Aegon coldly, then looked away as if neither Dayne nor Aegon had ever been there.

“We have to get you back to Maester Luwin, Arya,” Robb urged.

Arya’s eyes were closed now, and fresh tears, from pain more than anything, came pouring from her eyes. She nodded slightly, but when they tried to lift her, so she could ride on Robb’s horse with him, she cried out and clung to the ground.

Robb stared down at her worriedly. “Is it broken or…” He looked anxiously at Jory.

“-dree.” Arya cried incoherently.

Robb crouched quickly down next to his sister, putting an arm comfortingly around her shoulders. “What was that, love?” He grasped her hand again, letting her squeeze it painfully.

“Gendry.” She pleaded. “I want Gendry.” Arya’s face was pale, her teeth clamped down hard, her jaw set.

Robb’s heart stuttered. He kept her hand clasped and stood, looking out across the fields for the smith. How far had he been? Would he have heard the commotion?

“Where’s Gendry?” Arya squeezed Robb’s hand ever harder.

Robb’s brow furrowed and he took a knee again by his sister. “He’s not here, love, and we have to get you back to the castle. It’s going to hurt like hell, but you just squeeze my hand as hard as you have to. Maester Luwin will have milk of the poppy for you as soon as we get there, and all the pain will go away.” Robb tried to comfort her, but knew somehow, it was not enough.

Arya leaned into Robb, but she shook her head. “Gendry.” She repeated. “I need Gendry.”

Suddenly, a racket of noise exploded from deep within the woods behind them. Jory and his men began to unsheathe their swords, but soon three large direwolves were darting out of the thicket. Then, thankfully, Robb saw two more riders barreling through the trees, one his little brother, the other the smith.

Gendry’s eyes were surprised at the sight of them at first, then fearful when he caught sight of Arya cradled in Robb’s arms. The smith was off the horse before it had even stopped galloping; the horse ran off on its own, stopping nearer the middle of the field to graze.

The smith, meanwhile, landed heavily, but was not deterred. He rushed to Arya’s right side and when she saw him, she sighed his name in relief. Robb felt her leave his grasp and curl into Gendry’s.

When he spoke, Gendry’s voice scorched. “What happened?” Gendry held Arya’s head to his chest and his fingers trickled lightly down her leg toward her ankle.

In a low voice, Robb quickly explained why and how Arya had been dragged through an acre or two of land. Without moving, which would have made Arya uncomfortable from pain, Gendry looked up at both the prince and the lord of Starfall with a look that told them he would kill them both if he could. His blue eyes looked afire with fury, and his mouth twitched in anger.

Then Gendry looked back down at the girl in his arms, and his eyes softened. He used the back of his hand to wipe blood that was trickling down Arya’s forehead and towards her eyes.

“You’ll be alright,” he promised her.

“Stupid bull,” Arya muttered into the smith’s jerkin. “Where have you been?”

Gendry chuckled, stroking Arya’s hair. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you go and get yourself nearly killed.”

“My lord,” Jory Cassel spoke, “we should get my lady back to the castle.”

Gendry looked startled when he realized Jory was speaking to him and not Robb. “Can I pick you up?” He asked Arya softly.

Hesitantly, Arya nodded her head.

“Fear cuts deeper than swords,” Gendry murmured softly into her hair. Arya’s lips, previously twisted in pain, tilted into a weak smile.

From beyond, Aegon called out, “I can take her back on Viserion. It’s the quickest way.”

Both Arya and Gendry ignored him, though Robb sent him an appreciative smile.

“If he speaks one more time-.” Arya started.

Gendry silenced her with a kiss to the top of her head. “What will it be, m’lady, dragon or horse?”

“A bull.” She grunted in pain, as he began to lift her up. Robb gently adjusted her leg in Gendry’s arms so it would be more comfortable.

Gendry chuckled. “Dragon it is.”

“Not with him,” Arya moaned into Gendry’s neck.

“Viserion.” Gendry called loudly.

Across the way, the prince flinched. He didn’t like it when Gendry addressed his dragon directly. Nor when Gendry rode either of the other dragons. Nor indeed that all three dragons had taken easily to Gendry and had developed a fondness for him that hardly any others inspired in their reptilian hearts.

A gust of wind blew across them as Viserion floated down from above to land in their midst. The horses all about reared, and Jory and the others struggled to keep them under control. Carrying Arya, Gendry walked gingerly toward the dragon. Aegon appeared at the smith’s side.

“If you hand her up to me, I can-.”

“Gendry’s taking me.” Arya snapped, her voice muffled from where she hid her face in the gap between Gendry’s neck and shoulder.

“As m’lady commands, coz.” Gendry shrugged nonchalantly at Aegon who only had a defeated set of eyes for the woman in the smith’s arms. Though he referred to Aegon as his cousin only to annoy him, there was truth to it, as they were distantly related through Gendry’s great grandmother.

Viserion, who seemed to understand Arya’s precarious condition, crouched low to the ground. With Robb’s help, Gendry clambered over Viserion’s wing and settled Arya into Aegon’s saddle. Robb and Gendry secured Arya’s leg against Viserion’s side so it wouldn’t shift while up in the air. Gendry settled into the saddle behind her and wrapped one arm around her.

As Robb turned to go, Arya grasped his hand tightly. “No.” She mumbled. “You too, Robb. Please.”

Robb was surprised at the plea, though it also warmed him to know his sister still needed him sometimes. “Of course, little one.”

Robb glanced at Gendry who blinked a smile at him. “It’ll be safer to have you in front, so she don’t move around a lot too.” Gendry agreed.

Robb gave orders for Jory and the other men to take his, Arya’s and Gendry’s horses back to Winterfell with them. He argued for a few moments with Rickon who wanted to ride with them desperately and refused to get back on his horse until he could; it wasn’t until Aegon promised to take Rickon flying on Viserion once they got back that the younger boy sullenly agreed to get back on his horse, though Shaggydog’s hackles were raised by then.

Robb once more ensured that Arya and her smith were secure in the saddle before picking up the dragon’s heavy reins.

Sōvēs.” Gendry uttered from behind. The Valyrian word for fly, Robb knew. He’d seen both Jon and Dany fly often enough to remember.

Soon they were soaring, and Robb could see the towers of Winterfell’s castle in the close distance. His belly swooped when he looked down, Viserion’s wings jarring him as the dragon turned toward the castle. His sister’s small hands gripped the top of his cloak. Robb reached one hand up to his shoulder and covered her warm hand with his.

Soon, they were landing in the castle courtyard. Robb helped Gendry lift Arya from the saddle, gingerly so as not to jostle her leg. Even then, she flinched and cursed several times. Finally, they made it up to Maester Luwin’s tower where the maester tutted at them and muttered under his breath about Arya’s recklessness.

Robb clapped the maester on the back. “No more reckless than Jon and me at her age.”

Maester Luwin scoffed. “Much more.” As he gathered herbs to make a poultice for the pain, he went on to recount the last several times, all in the past week, that he’d healed Arya in some way.

Across the room, Gendry was slowly coaxing Arya into drinking the small cup of milk of the poppy Luwin had thrust into his hands. Robb helped the maester gather what he needed, helped him grind the herbs into the paste. Now Gendry was using a cool, wet cloth to wipe the dirt and blood from Arya’s face. She was smiling somewhat now, if still a bit pained.

Only moments later, Luwin was shooing both Gendry and Robb out of his chambers. He gave them two large bowls to fill with the snow that refused to melt outside of the castle gates.

Robb followed Gendry down the tower steps, both of them taking the stairs two at a time in the rush to get the ice to soothe Arya’s ankle.

As they walked side-by-side across the courtyard, Robb glanced at Gendry only to see him looking uncertain, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

“She’ll be alright.” Robb assured him.

Gendry glanced Robb’s way as if surprised he’d said anything. “Thank you.” His voice was gruff when he spoke.

It was Robb’s turn to be surprised. “For what?” He blurted.

“I mean…” With the hand that was not holding the bowl, Gendry clutched the back of his neck almost nervously. “For saving her. You stopped her horse.”

Robb almost bit back that of course he’d saved her, she was his little sister, but knew Gendry hadn’t meant it that way. Gendry also looked incredibly pained when he said, “She could have been killed.”

Robb felt pity for the haunted look in Gendry’s eyes. “Aye, but it’d take a lot more than a stupid Dornishman and a dragon to finish her off.”

Gendry couldn’t help but chuckle. “I hope so.” He responded, but his eyes darkened again. “I should have been there. She should’ve known better than to race a horse she’s never ridden before.”

Robb silently agreed on that last point, but out loud, he said. “It’s not your fault, Gendry. Once she puts her mind to something, it’s impossible to talk her out of it.”

As they crossed over the moat and towards the forest, a handful of his father’s guards shadowed them. Under his father’s orders, none of the Starks were to leave the castle grounds without protection.

Gendry had that stubborn look on his face that he got when Arya was arguing with him about something particularly stupid. “It’s still my fault.” His face was twisted almost in confusion. He hesitated before saying, “If I hadn’t waited this long to ask for her hand…” He glanced sideways at Robb almost worriedly as he spoke. “These bloody buggers would have cleared off by now.”

Robb snorted with laughter. Gendry joined in.

Using the cups Luwin had given them along with the bowls, Gendry and Robb shoveled snow into the bowls silently for a few moments.

Robb thought hard before he spoke. “Is it marriage for a certainty then?”

Gendry got that pained look again. “If she’ll have me.” The smith paused in his shoveling, hesitating again before speaking. “I wanted everyone’s blessing first…”

Robb blinked at him, as he packed the snow down into the bowl so he could fit more.

Gendry spoke again before he could. “I mean, I’d ask your father first, but…what I mean to say is…I’d want all of your blessings. I think it would mean a lot to her.” Gendry finally looked away, scooping more snow into his cup.

Robb looked away too. He was conflicted, one part happy for his sister and the smith, another part apprehensive. “Will you move her to Storm’s End with you?” He said suddenly. Though it had been a few years now, it still felt as if he’d only just gotten his sister back.

Gendry gawked at him. “St- Storm’s End?” Gendry looked genuinely concerned now. “Will your father make us go there if we marry?”

“Of course not.” Robb now felt one part confused, one part amused and another part relieved. He laughed. “Don’t you want to claim your land?”

Gendry shook his head vehemently. “It’s Edric who knows the land, the castle and the people, not me. It should go to him. If he ever comes back.” Gendry looked apprehensive now as they stood to deliver the snow back to Luwin. “I’d go if Arya wanted to, but she never would. The North is her home. I could never take that away from her. Not for a whole kingdom.”

Robb smiled brightly. It had been the right thing to say. “Well, then, Gendry. You have my blessing.” Robb paused, unsure if he should go on. Then, “You’re a good man, Gendry. I’m glad my sister found you.”

Gendry looked self-conscious. “And I, her.”

Robb grinned sideways at the smith. “When will you ask her?”

“Tonight, if it means the bloody prince and Dayne will leave right away.”

They shared a laugh as said prince and lord trotted up the Kingsroad towards them and the castle, both looking the worse for wear and completely downtrodden.

“What are you two smiling about?” Arya asked suspiciously when they re-entered the maester’s chambers, snow in hand.

“At the beating you’re going to give those two idiots later when you’re better,” Robb said, making Gendry and Arya laugh. Even the maester cracked a smile as he scattered snow delicately over Arya’s ankle so as to bring down the swelling.

“Who says I’m going to wait?” Arya growled.

They laughed again, but Gendry said, “I do,” as he smoothed her hair back away from her face and took her hand in his, hoping to distract her from the pain Luwin was causing by probing her ankle.

As Robb went to inform his mother of Arya’s injury, he watched the two interact. Arya’s eyes softened almost every time she looked at the smith, unless he was the cause of her ire. And the smith, in kind, looked at the girl as if she was the only thing that existed. Yes, Robb was glad Gendry had come into her life. He wondered if he should warn the rest of his family the smith would be visiting them very soon with a surprising request. No, he smiled, he’d let them find out on their own.

Bullet the Blue Sky - Live at Jimmy Fallon 8/9/2017

Suit and tie comes up to me 
Face orange as a rose on a thorn bush 
Skin as thin as orange crush 
And he’s peeling off those dollar bills 
Slapping them down 
One hundred 
Two hundred 
I can see those fighter planes 
I can see those fighter planes 
WMD in their veins 
Ground shakes but the children can’t weep
Vaporized in a single tweet 
The emperor rises from his golden throne
Never knowing, never BEING known 
The lights are on the presidents home
Oh my god I’ve never felt so alone
Outside its America
Outside its America
In a far off palace in a far-fetched land 
Another baby plays a baby grand
Fingers on the keys of a siren song
Finger on the button of oblivion
And all I can think of is my son

All I can think of is my son
He misses his ma, misses his da
And he runs 
And he runs 
And he runs 
Into the arms of america

(U2.com)