Prompt list here by @themand0lorian 💜 adapted from @ flufftober2021’s prompt list here
Pairing: Pero Tovar x GN!Reader
Themes: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, yearning
Warnings: none, but will update if anything is pointed out to me!
Word Count: ~1690
A/N: I’m way off track with Flufftober but better late than never! I have several ideas that I intend to complete. I’m pretty proud of this one. 🥰 Thank you @acrossthesestars for the beta reading and hype. ♥️
Song I had on loop while writing: “Maria Elena” by Los Indios Tabajaras
Pero gif by @ pedrohub (ugh he is so pretty I cry 😭)
Pero carefully wrapped the letters to protect them from the elements and any damage. He debated whether to place them in the saddlebag or closer to his chest. He chose the latter, his layers keeping the letters that much safer near his heart. And what better place than where they affected him most? His sturdy fingers had worn the paper thin in places from holding tightly as he pored over your script. The flow of your hand was staccatoed with dashes and harsh strokes, the occasional smudge of ink in the corner. Rough sketches of scenes he longed to have seen you create or witness with you in person. William had sent word of their intended return a couple days before their departure. If Pero had his way, they would not have left in the first place. But a job was a job, and they finished it.
You busied yourself with every task from cleaning to chopping firewood to preserving vegetables. You assumed hands occupied with chores meant your thoughts would be focused on the tasks as well. But that wasn’t the case. Sarah received a letter one morning from William and hurried to you to share the news. He and Pero were returning. You put on a pleasant face and delighted in the update, just like you had each time Sarah informed you about previous letters from William. Each time she brought a humble token for you: ribbon, seeds, a stone pendant that you threaded with leather to make a necklace, and others. Sarah was quick to reassure that Pero was thinking of you. Her attempts to comfort you were appreciated, but not enough to quell your doubts.
Inside your small cottage. no letters awaited you to dig into or reread in waiting for the next to arrive. No storied accounts from Pero of wild landscapes and the creatures that called them home. Had he thought about you? Missed you? Was he closer to the stars — longing for you as the moon went through her phases? There was no way of knowing. Your mind ruminated on these questions and their implications — turning them over and twisting them into assumptions— meanwhile your hands would be stilled mid twist over the washbasin, soapy water gone cold.
You had sent several letters to Pero in his absence, each contained a small momento. A sketch, a pressed flower, a lock of hair tied with a ribbon. The same ribbon Sarah had given you, in fact. In quieter moments, while Toby laid at your feet or the morning sun found you through the window, your hand would drift to the gap where that lock once was to run your thumb over the shortened strands. However, enough time passed for new growth to blend into the rest.
True to William’s word, he and Pero returned within the month. Pero turned his horse off the main road to trail along the path that wound its way to your home. He guessed correctly that you would be in your garden. Your back was turned to the road but stiffened at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Toby only barked twice. He tended to incessantly bark at everyone. But never at Pero. Rather, you could have mistaken the big oaf for a puppy based on the eager whines and yips. Had it been years ago, Toby would have met Pero in the saddle, leaping up in a single bound for him to catch. Yet another sign of time’s continuous passing.
Wiping your hands on your breeches, you stood up to greet him. Just in time to see Toby plow over a dismounted Pero. Were the circumstances different, you would have laughed heartily before saving Pero from a slobbery demise. But at this point in time, you weren’t sure how to feel. Despite your uncertainties, you held out your hand to help him off the ground.
Pero’s grin faltered at your somber expression, concern clouded over the twinkle in his eyes. He looked at your hand and grasped, standing upright. He wanted to wrap you in his embrace well before he was in sight of you, but second guessed himself. He lead his horse to the pen and slung the tack onto the fence to be dealt with later. Toby looked up at you, tilting his head and raising those white, wiry eyebrows. Back when Toby was a pup who hadn’t grown into those eyebrows yet, Pero compared him to a crazed wizard and called him el mago when he didn’t think you could hear him.
“You must be tired after your journey,” you said quietly when Pero approached you again. You took a few strides to the cottage, then stopped abruptly when you didn’t hear him and Toby following. Pero stood firmly in place, eyeing you with mild caution, your implied invitation having the opposite effect — rendering him suddenly uncertain of his place with you.
Focusing on worrying a divot into the path with the toe of your boot, so you didn’t have to meet his gaze, you felt bold enough to broach the subject.
“I must confess, your return surprises me.”
You flicked your eyes up to see him shrug his shoulders, his expression unchanged. “It was a simple mission that paid well, a silly lord of no consequence who worried for his safety over nothing. We were in no danger. William sent word before we left.”
“I meant your return to me,” you looked down, repeating to the dirt, “to me.”
Pero’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why-“ he started.
“You didn’t answer any of my letters,” you spoke up, gathering the courage to look him in the eye. “I sent you several.”
The hurt on his face seemingly matched the intensity of yours, but why he would feel hurt you couldn’t fathom.
Pero tentatively stepped forward to reach for the leather necklace that laid on your chest. You held your breath while he briefly rubbed his thumb over the small stone pendant. He returned it to its place then nodded towards the garden. “The seeds seem to have arrived safely.”
You grasped the stone, the sudden chill that started with your demeanor then traveled from your hands wicked away the warmth Pero and your time in the sun had given it. “What do you mean? Sarah gave these to me.”
“Because I sent them with William’s letters to send to you,” Pero defended himself then continued fondly, “They are hollyhocks. The lord’s garden was filled with them. But,” he grasped your other hand, “I am enjoying them much more knowing they grew under your care.”
Sarah’s visits rapidly replayed in your mind. The seeds, the ribbon, the pendant you held, and more. She had brought small items over the course of many visits but, you belatedly realized, only when she had news from William. And she had told you every time that Pero was thinking of you.
“I- I’m sorry I did not realize. Thank you for the lovely gifts, Pero. But why… why didn’t you tell me plainly? With no word from you, how was I to know they were from you or if you still…” you trailed off. Pero knew what you were implying because he frowned and refused to meet your pleading gaze. He took his turn shuffling his boot back and forth over the same spot in the path.
“I apologize that I made you feel ignored.I knew it would not be enough, but I never imagined I would hurt you. Please believe me, I thought of you every moment, day and night. I sent my love for you the only way I know how.”
The air stilled in silence. How many heartbeats passed, neither of you kept count. Ultimately, Pero took a deep breath and spoke.
“I cannot read or write in your language, and my skills in my mother tongue are not what they were when I was younger. William is a trusted friend, but I have kept this and your letters to myself. I kept them close to me always.”
You yearned to touch him to convey comfort and understanding. He shared himself openly and honestly with you for years, but never before was he so candid, so vulnerable. For fear of spooking him, you gestured for him to sit beside you up against the house, letting him decide how close he wanted to be. Toby waited for Pero to take his seat then curled up on his left side. His tail wagged as Pero gently stroked his bristly coat.
Pero reached between his layers, pulling out a bundle of letters you knew well. They looked a little worse for wear, but to a knowing heart it was clear they were well loved. He set them in his left hand and took yours with his right. You felt him place something in your palm.
The lock of hair you gifted him, tied with the ribbon he gifted you.
Pero leaned forward so he could look at you face to face.
“I have shown my love for you. Yet I return to find you feeling abandoned and uncertain of my intentions. I will not make you wonder ever again. I will not tell you I missed you.”
Your mouth opened, however he persisted.
“How could I miss you when you were always with me? I only have so many breaths left, I have more important things to say.”
He shifted towards you and rested his hand on your cheek, the affection was the long awaited break in the clouds.
“For every one of these letters,” he lifted them so they were in your sight, “I will show you - tell you - how I love you. My devotion to you runs deep and strong. Now, mi amor, read this letter to me. And then I will tell you how much I love you again. And again.”
“And when I have read all the letters?” You leaned into his touch, your gaze softened in clarity and relief as he looked upon you with fond reverence.
“Then I will tell you I love you once more. And always once more.”
Thank you for reading! 🥰♥️
El mago - wizard/magician
Mi amor - my love
Tagging: please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.
Line dividers by @ firefly-graphics
#pero tovar #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall fic #this is my writing alright
Summary: Senior year has arrived for our protagonists. And with that comes adulthood looming over the horizon...some might say it's the twilight of their adolescence. There are college applications to worry about, identities to form, and...werewolves to fight?
Tags: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - High School, Teen Vampire AU, Magic, Vampires, Witches, Werewolves, Friendship, Vampire Undeath, Teen Angst, Human/Vampire Relationship, Werewolf Bites, Action, Humor, Fluff, POV Multiple, POV David Rose, POV Patrick Brewer, POV Alexis Rose, POV Stevie Budd, POV Mutt Schitt, POV Jocelyn Schitt, Telekinesis, References to teenage sex, powerpoint presentation, Dysfunctional Family, Stevie Budd Backstory, References to Gilmore Girls, Halloween, Rocky Horror Picture Show References
Day seventeen Ectoberhaunt: Jump scare vs Found Footage
“We’re lost,” Danny sighed, frustrated.
Tucker looked over his shoulder at the map he’d been making. It was a bit of a jumbled mess, likely due to the constant confused circles and unknowingly retreading their steps. “I mean, that’s not exactly something new though,” he said, “We get lost every time we try to map this place.”
“I should have known Clockwork was being too accommodating when he offered to help me learn how ghost mapping worked.” Danny folded the map back up and put it away in one of his hoodie’s pockets. “We should have brought Sam, she’s good at this kind of stuff.”
“Sam had poetry night,” Tucker reminded him.
“Yeah, I know.”
He looked around. This area in general had been nothing but a mess to start with, every direction leading to obnoxiously similar lairs and doors, as if they'd been copy pasted into a pattern. It off-set Danny’s nerves, he’d walked into far too many traps in the comparatively short amount of time he’d spent mapping the Zone out. Maybe he’d be better at it if he had an Obsession like Dani’s?
It was time to give it up for a lost cause. Danny grabbed the homing medallion Clockwork had gifted him, ready to put it to use when he heard Tucker call him over.
“What are you doing over there?” he asked, floating over to the more rundown looking area Tucker had wandered off to.
Tucker just waved away his worries, excited about finding something new. “Dude Danny, I think this used to be some kind of coliseum? Or some fighting arena?” He lifted away some rubble, using the “phase proof” gloves Danny’s parents had gifted him so that he could interact normally with the environment of the zone without having to worry about concentrating. It was hard to get used to being intangible as a natural state, Danny could attest.
Under the rubble was a weapon, an old one with a unique shape to it. Danny picked it up, the very edge had a slight green sheen to it, as if it had built up slowly over time despite the rest of the blade’s excellent shape, which showed it had likely been kept meticulously in its use. Danny didn’t like that something like this had been left abandoned in a pile of rubble.
He turned to Tucker, he’d gone even further ahead into the ruin and Danny had to catch back up to him before he could ask his question. “What makes you think its a fighting arena? A lot of ghosts have weapons-” Danny faltered. Oh. That’s why.
In the middle of the ruins was what looked like a long abandoned coliseum, just like the one in Rome Danny’s seen countless pictures of. Danny slowly looked around, taking it all in before fishing out the half finished map and inking the new location into it. Once the ink dried a single sentence spilled out around it in Clockwork’s familiar handwriting.
The Spider Fights Arena.
His mouth went dry. This couldn’t be a coincidence right? This was starting to look like a theme. He needed to get Tucker out of here.
“I’m right here,” Tucker said from right beside him, almost startling Danny enough to drop his pen. “Look what I found.”
He was holding up an old camcorder. An old mortal realm camcorder, the type that Walker would be arresting people left and right for even thinking of having in their possession. It was old though, and clearly lost in the race against time.
“So what?” Danny asked, this place was only making him more nervous. He didn’t know what it was, the name, Spider Fights, the fact that it’s the only ruin in what otherwise amounted to a Ghost Zone suburb, or the general feeling of the place. The feeling that something bad happened here, and that even Tucker, a human who by all rights was intangible to almost anything in the Zone if he wanted to be, wouldn’t be safe here.
Tucker grabbed his face by the chin, smushing his cheeks, and pointed it more directly at the camcorder. “Danny, it has your family’s name on it.”
His eyes refocused, sure enough, scratched into the side of the device was a messy ‘Fenton Family’ almost faded from time. Danny’s eyes went wide. This was old, like, before he was born old. His parents hadn’t made a working portal by then. Well, there was the one that hurt Vlad. But it hadn’t actually worked as far as Danny knew.
He shook his head, he was probably overthinking this. Natural portals existed before his parents ripped a hole in the fabric of the universe, just because they were more common now doesn’t mean they weren’t around.
Or maybe it had fallen into a time-port. Those were all over the place and could certainly explain why the camcorder looked so old. Maybe it had some home made movies on it from when Jazz was a baby? He grabbed it from Tucker and quickly stuffed it in his pocket next to the map.
They could watch the footage later, surely there won’t be anything too bad on it right? Just some missing memories?
“Let’s get out of here Tuck, this place gives me the creeps.” Tucker was reluctant, wanting to head deeper inside, do some more ‘urban exploration’ or whatever but Danny grabbed him by his arm and took out Clockwork’s homing medallion.
They were going home first, then they could check out the footage they might have found.
you remind kakucho of a lot of things. of warm embraces and home-cooked meals, hearty laughter and late night talks, long walks and cafe dates. you remind kakucho of love.
but most of all, you remind kakucho of the ghastly cut that runs across the upper half of his face. a wound that left its mark. you remind kakucho of pain.
he supposes it's his fault. he doesn't blame you for what happened. he never could. couldn't expect you to put up with his neglect, couldn't expect you to take whatever he dished out without suffering any damage. it's like he'd forgotten that you loved him. that you weren't out to get him. that him being a part of a gang meant there'd always be collateral damage.
and so when he lies in bed at night, begging for sleep to come over him, he thinks of the scar that cuts through his heart. he thinks of you. a wound that left its mark.
Whiskey’s exterior made him appear as a traditional macho man––one that likes to always be in control during sex to keep his masculinity. In reality whiskey was an adventurous man willing to try everything once so long as the partner was willing. Even if those things require submission, like right now, as you scratch your nails up and down his back, “everything good Jack?”
He shudders, groaning a little and clenching around the strap on, “Yes, good.”
Jack had taken everything so well so far, first expressing an interest to see what it would feel like to have that certain spot inside him stimulated. You had been careful that first night, taking him into your mouth and adjusting him to having his hole touched before allowing your finger to enter. He said it felt weird at first as you stroked his walls until you found something that felt like a walnut and he groaned at the feeling. His groans only increased as you continued to finger at it, eventually coming the hardest he’s ever orgasmed ever. Jack decided he enjoyed having himself fingered.
You upgraded from one finger to two and then finally three. Sometimes he wouldn’t even have to touch his cock to make him come, something that made you feel powerful. From there both of you decided the next best option might be using toys on him. You didn’t go straight to pegging, deciding to first buy an anal hook like device when browsing the sex store. It was good––great even and got Jack used to feeling something un-human like in there.
But you now knew it was time to upgrade. You both had spent a lot of time in the sex store picking out which harness was the best and which size wasn’t intimidating.
In the end you settled with a soft fabric harness and a good sized dildo that fit into its place. Not at all the same size as his but you don’t think he’d be able to handle something of his size—You could barely most of the time.
You took an extra long time prepping him today, edging him by slipping your fingers out before he had the chance to come and then putting them back in to tease him again and again. He was eventually begging for you to finally fuck him with the strap on showing just how much he wanted this––to truly be fucked by you.
You had positioned him on his hands and knees saying it would be easier for him to take the strap that way. Making sure he was comfortable with pillows propping him up and towels below him, causing him to huff about the fact he usually does this for you. You playfully swat his ass at that, making him yelp and give you a dirty look that makes you giggle. But the tone shifts from goofy to serious when you begin to line yourself up with him, slowly entering him causing him to groan.
Now here you are fully seated in him, waiting for him to give you a signal and tell you to move, scratching up and down his back to soothe him and get him to untense. Jack seems to calm down after a while, his breathing evening out and muscles untensing becoming use to being penetrated like this, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” He mumbled against your sheets, moving his head to look back at you, “please move.”
You take it slow, thrusting your hips back until just the tip is in before entering him again fully, causing a moan to erupt from his throat., “good?”
You try to set a slow pace at first, but Jack demands to be fucked hard with the sound of skin slapping against each other coupled with his moans. He is abashed like this, hands scratching against the cotton sheets and mouth a gape, unable to stop the deep groans that come every time you strike against his g-spot. His skin is blushed red, especially around his neck and face and you know that if you could properly see his face you would be able to see his eyes a little teary eyed from pleasure.
You're a little rickety with the motions, not used to thrusting into something to create pleasure. But based on his reactions you know that he is enjoying it. Especially by the way his muscles start tensing up and his groans and moans become high pitched whines, leaning into the idea that he is about to come. You smile, encouraging him, “are you going to come Jack?”
He nods into the sheets and you chuckle, “come on baby use your words.”
“Yes,” He whines out hands splaying out on the bed to brace himself trying to focus on getting himself to that height. Giving him some sort of mercy asking him, “do you want me to give you some help? Or do you want to come just like this?”
“Please help me,” the moment he says it you oblige reaching below him to grab at his lube covered dick and begin to slowly jerk his cock, matching the strokes with your own thrusts. The noise Jack makes is deep and painful and his blunt nails dig into the sheets as he comes, spraying his seed onto one of the towels you put in place earlier. He keeps going for a while––a long load due to your direct attack on his prostate that makes it seem neverending for him. But it does end and it leaves him boneless forcing him to fall forward, probably resting in some of his own seeds.
You release his dick as soon as the last drop comes out and he shakes from overstimulation, rubbing up and down his sides to cool him down. You're careful when you move to exit him, not wanting to cause more strain to the hole that you abused. You give his back a kiss before entering aftercare mode, taking off the harness and dildo, and then going to get a wet flag. You take good care to to flip him over and clean him up, wiping the lube from between his legs and wiping the cum off of his stomach and dick shushing him when he groans from overstimulation.
After everything is taken care of, dirty towels and toys deposited where they should be, you place a cup of water on the bedside table and join Jack in the bed. You pull him into your arms, head pressed into your boobs and you scratch his scalp trying to lull him to sleep when he mutters into your skin, “pegging definitely stays.”
I got a cards against humanity card today that said getting pegged, so get pegged whiskey.
“P-please mommy! Please let me cum. Please I promise i’ll be good!!”
You simply smirked as you continued to bounce slowly on Seonghwa’s cock, way slower than what you were doing earlier. You were taking in all the pitiful whines that Seonghwa was letting out, he was begging and pleading for you to move faster. You had his hands pinned down on either side of his head, watching as he helplessly trying to thrust up to get some type of faster pace.
Smirking, you stop completely and sit up, letting go of Seonghwa’s arms watching as his hands flew to your hips to grip them. “W-wait! Why did you stopp~” He whined, his face was a bright pink but the makeup he had applied just for you was messed up, lips smudged and eyeshadow was smudged as well. You leaned down to his face and gripped his face slightly with a small teasing smile on your features.”Because..I don’t think my naughty little boy deserves to~” You say which makes Seonghwa struggle to conjure up his words. “No mommy, I'm sorry!-” “Shh~ are you sure? The way you looked so cute on stage~ then you come home to me and show me absolutely no love and affection.” You teased tracing your hand down his face and down his chest.
Seonghwa bit his lip as he tried to put on an adorable face, hoping you’d take mercy on him. “B-but mommy, I’m here now! Plz just let me cum, I’ll make it up to you.” He begged and you couldn’t help but giggle at his begging. You smirked as your hand went up to the pretty pink collar that was around your boyfriends neck. “Aww.. since my baby asked politely i’m going to.” You say as you raise your hips and slam yourself down on your boyfriends cock earning a loud moan from him as he looked up at you with a shocked expression.
“Since you wanna, i’m going to make sure you cum so much that you won’t even remember your own name~”
The gang had just finished up a mission. It wasn’t too challenging but it was more long and tedious, it was a fair workout. Plus, it was a rare occurrence that everyone was together. Leorio and Kurapika had helped you three.
They were all heading back to the nearest town but decided to stop for the night. Currently everyone was settling down to slumber in the middle of the woods. They all unpacked and turned in for the night. Amora was already sleeping after everyone found their spot.
Gon, Killua and Amora layed closet to one another. Kurapika and Leorio sat close to each other. Gon and Killua lie next to each other with Amora next to Gon. Gon started to doze off but Killua showed no signs of drowsiness as the two chatted before bed.
“Everyone is so strong! We’re a pretty amazin’ squad.”
“Mmm, well I dont know about Leorio. We seem to always have to watch his ass to make sure he doesn’t bite it every time we go on a mission with him.”
Gon laughed a nervous laugh.
“he’s... uh strong in his ow- oh?”
Killua tilted his head at him when noticed Gon’s jerk in his sleeping bag. He didn’t particularly smell anything different.
“What is it, Gon?”
Gon shifted and turned in his bag and blanket to look over at Amora. She was cocooned with her bag and multiple soft looking blankets.
“I just felt Mori shaking.”
He stated plainly.
Killuas brow raised.
“Shaking? What, is she having a bad dream? She’s obviously warm.”
Gon made a sound of affirmation looking down at her frightened face. Her face was partially obscured by her many blankets but the stress within her was stitched all over face. Black fluffy ears were plastered on the sides of her face by
“Mm, I think its a nightmare. She doesn’t look too good...”
Gon frowned, brushing his fingers lightly across her cheek, her ear shivered. Killua smirked a cats smile and said.
“Hohh, are you worried about her.”
He looked at the back of Gon’s head propping up his own head with the palm of his hand.
Gon turned to face him with a smile. His hand was still on Amora.
Killua made a face, rolling his eyes.
“You’re no fun to mess with.”
Gon’s response was just a laugh. He turned back to face Amora. She was shaking just a bit less. She smelled like vanilla.
Despite Gon’s words, he was undeterred and tried again. His smirk reappearing.
“Why dont you hold her hand then.”
Oh! That’s a good idea! She stopped shaking a bit when his hand touched her cheek. Killua was smart even if he wanted to embarrass him. Maybe Killua did want him to help her.
“That’s a good idea Killua!”
Gon turned to face him again. He knew he’d have to convince Killua to go along with him so he faced him directly.
“But we should both hold her hands.”
As expected, Killua jolted in surprise and opposition.
“Ah! Huh? Why do- Why do i have to to?? That doesn’t make any sense. You’re right next to her and wont that be uncomfortable for her to hold both our hands all night??”
Killua made another face at him. This didn’t make much sense, wasnt one of them enough? Besides, Gon was a lot better with this kind of stuff. Killua didn’t know much of anything about pleasant skin contact.
Gon pouted at Killua and said.
“Of course it makes sense! She needs both of us!”
Killuas brow twitched at his nonsense, not looking too convinced. He sighed thinking of a way to wiggle his way out of this. He shouldn’t have said that!A breeze carrying the sent of wood passed by and rustled their hair. He was just looking at them with those stupid pleading eyes. Killua ran his hands through his tight dense cloud of curls before rubbing the back of his head.
“and how do you know that?”
Gon looked happy to answer.
“I heard her say it in her sleep! Both our names!”
That gave Killua stop.
“You- You heard... “
Hold on, does Gon often hear Amora when she sleeps? Because she definitely wasn’t sleep talking tonight. We’ve been near each other the whole time.
“Wait you…you’re not as innocent as you look are you?”
Gon suppressed his own snide smile with the twitch of the corner of his lip. Gon didnt let Killua get to him and pressed Killua further.
“Killua look focus! While we’re arguing, Mori is suffering by herself!”
Before he could say anything else, Gon squirmed to sit up and crawled over Amora to the opposite side of her. Killua was going to press Gon further but Killua got a better look at her without Gon in the middle of his view.
He realized what Gon was talking about. Amora was trembling with her eyebrows drawn together, her body tense. She buried herself in her covers as if like protection from whatever horrors she saw in her mind’s eye. He let out a small,
“You see? She needs both of us!”
Gon was ready to set his example. He snuggled up and got comfortable with Amora and slid his hand down her arm to find her hand. (He wanted this to be smooth to not spook her, but finding her hand under all the blankets. It was only a little easier than finding a needle in a hay stack.) When he took her hand he understood why she usually slept with more blankets than the rest of the group.
Her tension eased but... she still looked quite stressed.
Killua sighed looking at the two. Amora trying to get a good nights rest but in distress plagued my nightmares. Gon giving him such puppy dog eyes he may as well have been wagging an invisible tail but he knew Gon was just worried about her.
Well, Killua supposed this was bound to happen hanging out with these two. They were both so…freely affectionate. Before he met these two he usually didnt care much about leaving his comfort zone. In fact, he didnt even know he had one until the Hunter exam.
He guessed he’d stalled long enough. He supposed he should just...? Killua scotted closer to her and awkwardly positioned himself to search for her hand under their blankets. He’d found her hand tucked into her body and eased it away from her warmth. Gon tried to keep in his giggling as Amora seemed to pout. Killua couldn’t blame her as as soon as her torso wasn’t warming her hand it began to cool. He decidedly used his own hand to warm hers.
Even in his previous reluctance, when he took her hand, she finally relaxed even breathing a sigh of relief. He looked at her face as the seemingly small effect of his hand melted her stress from her body. It made him feel…okay for some reason.
“I guess... This isn’t so bad.”
Killua muttered, Gon giggled lightly. The two began to whisper since they were so close to her now.
“Of course it’s not bad, it’s helping us too!”
Killua made a hum between amusement and satisfaction.
Killua shuffled to get more comfortable and closer to her. Now that he thought about it, he was actually starting to feel sleepy. Although at this point, he hadn’t slept in a day but usually that shouldn’t have mattered. Everything right now felt right, immeasurably so. He looked at Amora and Gon. Gon looked right back at him, seeming to get drowsy again. It felt good in a way he’d never felt before. He was certain if he never met them, he would have never gotten to experience this feeling. Killua closed his eyes since he felt the start to water. Gons arm moved to hold the both of them. Killuas free hand held Gon’s. This was surprisingly comfortable.
As they slept in the night, Leorio and Kuripika could be heard whispering back and forth to one another about what just happened. They didn’t seem to notice them quiet down and listen during their exchange.
The two hadn’t seen the three in a bit but apparently they didn’t have anything to worry about. They seemed to start to realize their feelings for one another. Kurapika spoke to Leorio about how he was actually afraid that there would be conflict. All three of them had trauma and adding all of these romantic feelings might have been explosive, but it seemed their friendship was strong enough to carry them through into a new relationship.
Notes: I wholeheartedly believe Gon acts dumb so he can mess with Killua back Killua knows.😌Killua gets a lot of love from the fandom but i love them both and want to explore Gon’s inner world too.
Also i think i want to keep everyone in their 20s with my writing, even with the sfw stuff This fandom scares me sometimes. Killua and Gon are 22 Amora is 21. Killua is Albino black Gon is Black and Mexican so my descriptions of them will fit that. Amora is black, she’s a sheep girl! She currently has sheep ears and a sheep tail
#fanfic#fanfiction#my fanfiction #killua x gon #killua x reader #killua x gon x reader #gon x reader #gon x killua #gon x killua x reader #gon x reader x killua #hunter x hunter fic #hunter x hunter fluff #hunter x hunter fanfiction #hunter x hunter imagines
Went ahead and made a Wattpad. I’m 98% sure I had one before but I can’t find it for the life of me so. Also my work is on AO3 under QueenUndertheBloodyMountain and iOnlyDateSuperheroes but neither of those fit in the username requirements so I’m SantaCarlaLostGirl on Wattpad 🖤 I’ll be transferring all my AO3 stories to there as well for anyone who prefers it.
You sighed as you pulled up to Bobby’s, pulled back in that same spot with the Impala as you’d left it a few hours before. You were quick to turn off the headlights and cut the engine, hoping to keep things as quiet as possible, hoping to draw as little attention to the fact that you’d gone and taken the Impala to go hunt down that werewolf at half past midnight.
You’d done it yourself, you tracked down fangs with a little extra research that was fueled by a little spite for the older Winchester. He wanted to bench you, he wanted you to stay back, it’s for your own good or so he says. He wanted you to hang back and sit it out for reasons that it’s too dangerous, its too risky given the fact that you were supposed to be recovering from the last hunt that left you worse for wear.
But you were stubborn, you were stubborn as hell and wanted to push yourself to the limit. It was a busted ankle that’d you’d felt as though you’d recuperated from enough the past couple of weeks. You were itching to get back on a hunt. You hated feeling weak and you hated being benched, it was killing you not to get out there and do what you do best, to not get out there and do your job.
Though Dean was just as stubborn, if not more, especially when it came to you. You argued, you bickered and you argued till you were blue in the face about something Dean wouldn’t change his mind on. He knew you were a capable hunter, he knew you could kick just about any monster’s ass without hesitation and without fail. He knew you were a damn good hunter who was brave enough to face any supernatural threat that was thrown at you, and that thought alone scared him. It scared the hell out of him.
So, he argued. He fought with you on the subject because fighting with you was better than losing you and he hoped you’d just see things the way he did. He didn’t want you getting hurt but expressing vulnerability doesn’t come all too easily to the older Winchester, his worries and biggest fears having been expressed through a temper and huffs and puffs, to pushing people away. He had to go and push your buttons.
That werewolf was nasty, one of the more aggressive ones he’d seen in a while. He’d spent half an hour duking it out with you in an argument of huffs and puffs and sarcastic words. He’d spent half an hour skirting around the simple fact that he was terrified of something happening to you this time, he’s terrified every time but this was a little different.
He was scared but all you saw was furrowed brows and pursed lips, all you saw was frustration. He’d much rather push your buttons if it meant it’d put you off from tagging along on this hunt just this once.
But now here you were, sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, tired and worse for wear at three o’clock in the morning. You’ve got a cut on the bridge of your nose and one to match it on your cheek. Your knuckles were busted and scraped, hands shaking from the residual adrenaline that coursed through you.
There you sat, eyes glossed over with tears that spilled over your heated cheeks, tears you were just as quick to wipe away.
You went out there on your own out of spite, you went out and took the risk of hunting that werewolf all by yourself knowing damn well it was riskier than you’d thought at the time. It was stupid, you knew it was. You were scared to be by yourself despite the stubborn independence that drove you to make that decision. You were scared to go out and hunt by yourself despite the fact that you’d never admit it, not a chance, not in a million years.
It didn’t matter now, not really. It didn’t matter because that werewolf was dead and gone and you were still here, sitting in front of Bobby’s house with a wobbly lip and a stomach full of regret and anger that sat heavy in it. You were still here, with a little more bumps and bruises than you’d hoped to get, but you were here.
You were quiet as you got out, leaving your duffel in the car because you didn’t need it anymore, the hunt was taken care of. And you were quiet as you could be as you walked up those creaky wooden porch steps, sticking your tattered old key in an equally old front door before slipping inside and locking it once more behind you.
Everything was quiet, the lights having been turned off the way Bobby routinely does at night. Everything was just how you left it two hours earlier, the dead of night settling over the house.
You stuffed the set of car keys in the pocket of Dean’s jacket that lay slung over the back of the couch, running your fingers over the tattered and roughed up leather with a soft sigh. The single chime of the clock on the wall to signal the next half hour made you jump, your heart rate spiking before you calmed after a moment.
You were light on your feet as you walked up those stairs, wincing at each and every creak despite part of you being too tired to care about that. Part of you thinking is too trivial to care about.
You got to the landing and headed right for the bathroom, cleaning yourself up. It wasn’t so bad, not as bad as it felt like. It wasn’t ideal either, something that would have Dean tensing his jaw the way he does when he’s less than thrilled with even so much as a scratch. He always hated it when you got hurt, always has and always will. It wouldn’t be any different this time.
Truthfully, you thought maybe you’d gone unnoticed. You thought maybe you slipped out of there without being detected because you’d gone and took the space you so desperately needed after that argument. You’d gone and took up residence in the other room Bobby has, the one he turned into a bedroom because he found he didn’t need that room for storage anymore.
In a perfect world, you would have gone unnoticed. But Dean Winchester absolutely saw it. It took him all but two hours for him to get his head on straight. He hated fighting with you, more than anything in the world he hated it. It took him two hours before he’d gone and looked for you. He looked in every room of that house, he looked and looked until he swung open that front door and saw the empty spot that his car was sitting in who knows how long ago.
That anger came back, it simmered to a boil in the pit of his stomach. The first thing he’d done was call you, a phone call that’d gone straight to voicemail and it had his worries heightened. You were stubborn as anything and he knew that, he always knew that, but damn did he wish you wouldn’t be for just this once.
But he was angry, angry as he wound up in that salvage yard and left behind a rusted old car that was much worse for wear after he’d relieved some of that anger. But it never went away.
Sam had to convince him you just went to cool off, and it took a whole lot of effort to talk some sense into his brother, to cool that temper of his. It took a whole lot of those Stanford law skills to talk Dean Winchester out of turning the town upside down looking for you. He was a nervous wreck but there’s not a chance in hell he’d ever admit that. Not to Sam, not to Bobby, not to you, not even to himself.
He took Sam’s words with a grain of salt and convinced himself to believe them, spouting off a string of angry words and curses, running his hands through his hair and dragging them down his face.
You sigh as you splash over your face with cold water, blotting around the angry red cut on your cheek till those crimson splotches wiped away, leaving a clearer, sore scratch to run along it. The closure strips helped conceal it some, helped it look a little better than when you first set foot in that bathroom. It would suffice in the dark of the night but it’d be more than obvious once daylight rolled around.
You did the same for the one across your nose, effectively covering that one up with ease. You hated patching yourself up, hated the way your hands shook when you even tried. Dean always did it. That man could be gruffer than gruff with anyone in the world but no one will ever be more gentle than the way he is when he’s got to patch you up. No matter how angry or frustrated he’d been, frustrated that you’d put yourself in harm’s way for the sake of getting the job done nine times out of ten, he’ll always take care of you gingerly.
He’ll always take care of you attentively because you meant more to him than some anger that’d dissipate eventually.
But you sucked it up this time as you dropped the dirtied towel in the hamper.
You went to that spare room, your duffel full of clothes still sitting where you had tossed it a couple hours earlier. You sighed as you slipped off your muddied boots, setting them by the bed’s edge as you pulled off your socks. You were sore, you ached all over as the fatigue really set in, the task of tugging down your jeans and pulling off your shirt in favor of one of Dean’s and a pair of shorts proving to tire you out the rest of the way.
But you gave that room a once over, gave that room a tired glance as you tense your jaw and swallowed back your tears. It took a moment or two to mull things over but that’s all you let yourself have.
You bypassed that room in favor of slipping out into the hall and soon finding yourself standing before the old wooden door of the room you were supposed to stay in, the room you should have been in all this time rather than out taking on a monster by yourself. You knew you couldn’t stay in that other room in your own company, the thought alone made your stomach twist and churn.
You were tired of being angry, you hated that feeling almost as much as you hated being at odds with the older Winchester. Being apart from him.
You were quiet as you twisted the door knob, poking your head in the room. You saw him huddled on his side, laying on his side of the bed despite having the entirety of it to himself. The softness of his snores could be heard but he didn’t get a single ounce of restful sleep, not this whole time, not at all.
You were quiet as you stepped in the room, closing the door behind you with care not to be too loud. You don’t say a word as you pad over to the bed, lifting the covers to slip under and get comfortable. You didn’t want to move around too much, didn’t want to wake him, but that was quickly becoming unavoidable.
But you don’t say anything as you wrap your arms around him, not at first.
He stirs, the feeling of you tucked into him having been habitual, the instincts he’s got to tug you in close having taken hold. He’s got those few seconds of bliss at having woken up just now, before that argument came flooding back to his mind at full force. But that doesn’t change anything, he still holds you close if not closer, the fabric of the shirt of his that you’re wearing having been crinkled in his palms with the way he gripped it.
He tried not to think of the way his heart raced in his chest, or the way that angered fear simmered within him. He knows for a fact you’d gone out and took a shot at that damn werewolf, he knows you did because he knows you like the back of his hand. If he thinks about it for too long it’ll make him sick to his stomach, it’ll make him burst at the seams.
So he stays quiet, doesn’t say anything as you tangle your legs with his. He was pissed, he was scared, he was worried with everything he’s got. He was wondering if you’d walk through that door or not. He couldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you, if his own stubbornness would have gone and done the same damage as if he’d let you go on that hunt in the first place.
He was angry, but he didn’t want to talk about that right now, it could wait. He could huff and puff and make a day of it tomorrow but right now, right now he’s got his sweetheart in his arms.
The regret pooled in your stomach as you lay there, head spinning and mind looping with the events that’d taken place that night. It was risky, you knew that, you very well could have found yourself in a situation where you’d have met your fate all by yourself. It was as simple as that. You easily could have had your last moments with Dean be some argument over a hunt that wouldn’t matter a week from now.
It could have been it for you, all because of some stubborn spite that had you running out to face a werewolf by yourself just to prove a point that didn’t need to be proven.
Dean wasn’t stupid, you knew he figured out where you’d gone, you knew he noticed that you’d left. He knew, and you don’t have a doubt in your mind that he did. It had that feeling swirling around in the pit of your stomach and you absolutely hated it. You hated it and you didn’t want to face this argument again. Not for a long while if you could help it.
You tipped your head back then, enough to see him as you bit the inside of your cheek. You met his sleepy gaze, you saw the way it bounced over your face. There wasn’t much light in the room save for the moon streaming in, but even then it wasn’t too terribly much. But it was enough, it was enough for him to see the bandages pressed to your skin and holding you together. It was enough.
That feeling he had only intensified, rippling through him in waves as his jaw tenses. But you simply lean up and press a kiss to the dimple in his chin, the sweetest damn kiss he’s ever seen in his life and it’s something that dissolves a lot of that anger as he tugs you closer. There wasn’t much room left to even do so but he did it anyway.
His jaw is still tense under your fingertips, the feeling ebbing away as your thumb brushes over the stubble on his jaw. It’s then that you meet his gaze once more, his brows furrowed ever so slightly as he looks down at you with an expression that speaks louder than words. But he dips down, his lips brushing against yours in a lingering kiss, one he’s not too quick to part from. It’s soft and telling of everything he’s feeling, of the relief he’s got.
The fistfuls he’s got of that shirt of his you’re wearing tighten just a little more as he tucks you in close again, his lips pursing as he stares ahead. He knows he won’t sleep, not really, but that fact is a little less suffocating now that you’re in his arms. Now that you’re safe with him.
“‘M sorry,” you whisper softly.
You feel the press of his lips against your forehead, feel the scratch of his stubble against your skin.
You don’t say anything after that, just tighten your grip around his waist. You’re sure there’ll be plenty to talk about in the morning, you know it, but neither of you want to talk about it right now.
You two had all day to worry over mistakes you made in the heat of the moment, but you’re content where you are.
Relationship: Sarutobi Asuma/Yuuhi Kurenai
Word Count: 547 (Complete)
Entry for @asumaweek2021
Day 1 / October 18: Shikamaru
The title comes from this quote by Heraclitus:
If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail.
Chōji sighs as he slams his fist into the ground, barely missing Ino's head.
He's tired and frustrated. They've been at this all morning and Ino barely has half of her attention on him. Instead, she's mostly been keeping an eye on Shikamaru. It's a nice change from all the ranting that she was doing yesterday about her utter failure to seduce sensei, but it's going to be awful when Shikamaru wins their bet.
And Shikamaru will, he was too confident to fail.
It's not fair, but Chōji will bet on him over Ino any day of the month.
Which is why he's not surprised when Ino jumps onto his shoulders and hisses for him to be quiet.
Hey guys! How´s it going? Mun´s here! Sorry for my absence and for not answering the askbox. These two months have been busy and stressful. But guess what, I had the inspiration for writing my first Hetalia fanfic! It´s going to be about my Mexico OC and I´m going to publish it on AO3, and perhaps on Fanfiction.net. And... it´s going to be written in spanish, my mother language ... Yeah. But I think there will be not problem if you activate the translators on your devices, even though these don´t always work the right way.
Anyway, I already have some planned chapters, and the prologue and first chapter are almost complete. I´ll send you the link when it´s already published, and I hope you can give it a chance. I promise you that, based on my headcanons, this is going to be a completely different story from what you have already read or seen. See you later guys! ❤️
Hola gente! Cómo han estado? Siento mucho mi ausencia y por no haber respondido a las preguntas del askbox. Han sido dos mes ocupados y estresantes. Pero adivinen qué. He tenido la inspiración para escribir mi primer fanfic de Hetalia! Se va a tratar de mi OC de México, y lo voy a publicar en AO3, y quizá en Fanfiction.net. Y va a estar escrito en español! Ya tengo algunos capítulos planeados y el prólogo y el primer capítulo ya están casi listos. Les enviaré el enlace cuando estén publicados, y espero que le den una oportunidad. Les prometo que, basado en mis headcanons, ésta va a ser una historia completamente diferente a lo que ya han leído o visto. Nos vemos pronto! ❤️
This little mini-scene just got cut from my WIP so I thought I'd share it here as a little orphaned fic nugget.
Minako went straight for Mamoru’s music collection. Of course, he had a record player and extensive record collection. She flipped through each album cover, most of which featured pianos, orchestras, and violins. But right there sandwiched between Glenn Gould and Michiru Kaiou was an Incubus record. With a cry of achievement that broke the silence of the room she lifted the needle on Mamoru’s record player, pointedly ignoring the panicked look he shot her way, and gently placed the vinyl on the turntable and slowly lowered the needle.
The weeks with Anna being gone, the Palace has been monotonous. It's different without her here. I don't have much to do. I have spent most of my time on desk duty, monitoring cameras and roaming around the Palace. I've done a few Royal things at the request of my mother in law, all it entailed was signing letters on behalf of Anastasia. Some of the letters she has received are pretty sweet and endearing. I have wasted hours on the letters, mainly because I had nothing else better to do at the request of my mother in law. She doesn't request much of me. If I'm honest, all she demands is that I treat her daughter well and love her. Surprisingly, my mother in law is not high maintenance or bothersome. She may request that I'm on her service for specific outings, but she tends to leave me alone for the most part. She doesn't tell me what to do or attempt to change me or mould me into a King. Willow doesn't seem to give a damn about what I do when Anna is away. Half the time, I am unaware of what Willow does. I am not her assigned guard, it raises flags, but I am not digging into that hole for right now.
"I want a title, Harry," Pippa instructs upon entry to my office as her greeting.
I glare at her and raise a brow at her demand. It has been peaceful without her showing up at the Palace. I'm fact, I have loved not hearing her name or her voice while Anna has been gone. It has been a dream come true. Without Pippa around, the Palace has been quiet and less chaotic. I had the time to hear myself think. "And I want to banish your existence, but you're still here," I mutter with a sigh, gesturing to the space she is filling.
This ought to be good. She never enters a room lightly and without a demand of some sort.
"You have the power to grant me a title; I suggest you do so, or you have Anna do it."
I shake my head, "I suggest you get out of my office because I am not in the mood for your shit." I warn the woman who is likely to be the death of me. Pippa is on my last nerve, and there is nothing I can do about it.
"I know what you did," Pippa comments, "I know about Victoria, and I know you and Matthew don't want the true story to leak." But… "Could you imagine if they found out the palace had these deep dark secrets?"
I shake my head, "You know nothing." My voice is stern as I speak.
I will call her bluff. Pippa knows nothing. She thinks she knows things. Pippa is calculating and manipulative.
"You moved her body and hid the story. So, I'll be granted my title when Anna gets back, correct?"
I clench my jaw and fight the urge to lose my mind on her. Instead, I go with a more peaceful route, and I stand to my feet, "I know what you did," I use her words against her, "I know you strangled Henry. What was it that he knew that you didn't want anyone to find out?" I question, catching her off guard.
Pippa holds her robust stance and doesn't bat an eye at her response, "I did no such thing. I'm appalled you think I'd do that. I'm the prime minister. You forget who you're talking to."
"Pippa," I begin, shaking my head, "I'm appalled you think you got away with it. Just because I haven't addressed it, it doesn't mean I do not know. Before you leave a murder scene, make sure not to leave any evidence."
"You're absurd, Harry. I'm starting to wonder if you're the one who is insane and shouldn't be near the throne."
"I am no expert by any means, but I would make sure you don't leave any lipstick on the next person you strangle." I point out the exact shade she is wearing, nor is the same shade found on Henry. "How did you manage that? Were you lovers, too?"
"You have no proof. It's all speculation. You're as bad as Anna."
"Mhm," I hum, "So which title would you prefer? I will dub you Priminister of sin and murder."
"This isn't a game, Harry."
"You've met your match, and you don't like it. So what are you going to do? Strangle me?" I curiously question, purposely taunting her. I don't know what Pippa is capable of, but I know she doesn't do dirty work herself if I do know anything. I am sure she has other people do it for her to look like the pristine prime minister. "I know more than you think."
I know about Anna's extended family, a secret Pippa would hate to be revealed.
"Give me a Royal title; otherwise, everyone will find out about Victoria, and it'll ruin Anastasia's credibility as Queen."
"You're a royal pain in my ass," I smile, "Unlike some. I have work to do, excuse me." I walk past her.
"I'll get rid of all the members who have seats in Parliament, you and Anna can overthrow them, and I'll agree to it. That's what she needs, my approval."
I stop in my tracks and turn to face her, "How so? You and I both know half of them are after her. Fuck, you probably are too."
"I want what's best for this country; I work closely with Anna to keep the people happy. The members of Parliament who hold seats will not plot against Anna if I'm the one who starts the petition to overthrow them further."
"Why should I trust you?" I question.
I don't think Pippa can be trusted. I think she's with the rest of the clowns making my life a bit difficult. She will double-cross us.
"Because getting rid of them means you're one step closer to having the monarch you want."
"Getting rid of them is also a deal with the devil. You killed Henry, nothing saying you won't do the same to Anna or me."
Pippa shakes her head, "Believe it or not; I need the two of you in the monarchy for it to succeed."
I don't know what the fuck I have to do with anything. I'm just her husband. Whether I live or die, it doesn't affect the monarch.
"I'm not sure what your intentions are or why you want a title, but you can never be Queen. I will figure out your motive."
"I believe you probably will, perhaps when it's too late," Pippa shrugs her shoulders before chuckling, "No motive, Harry, just doing what's best for the country, something your wife is trying to do. She and I will make a great team when she stops fighting me."
"The Prime Minister has the power to appoint Ministers to the Crown as well. You probably started the evil in Parliament," I remind Pippa of her power.
"If Anna dissolves, I will back her up."
"Goodbye, Pippa. Oliver, escort her out," I gesture towards Pippa as Oliver walks in. He gives me a bewildered look but nods his head, promptly escorting Pippa out.
I wait on the steps of the Palace, impatiently awaiting the arrival of Anastasia, shifting my weight from foot to foot. It has been two weeks since I came back from Italy after visiting for a few days and it has been a rather dull two weeks. Eleanor and a few lady's maids stand beside me, along with Anastasia's assistant, who came home early. So I think it is safe to say the arrival of Anastasia is much appreciated by more than just myself.
Any minute now, the gates will open, and the cars will make their way to the Palace where I will greet my wife. The lady's maids glance over at me and chuckle, noticing my anticipation. I smile at them, "Don't ever speak of this moment," I chuckle, "I have a hardass reputation to uphold," I continue, and they nod their heads.
I place my hands behind my back. I recognise the gates open, and I speak into my earpiece, letting the rest of the team know that they need to standby just in case.
The car halts, and I exercise down the stone steps. My hand caresses the door handle, and I open the door. Anastasia swings her legs out and stands up, giving me a broad smile as I carefully bring her in for a hug. "Hi," I breathe out, holding her as close as I can while wearing my sling.
"I missed you," Anastasia informs me as she pulls away from the hug, and I kiss her lips benevolently.
"Feelings are mutual," I wink. My attention falls to Matthew as he gets out and closes the door behind him.
"Thought I trained you better than not to open my door, geez," Matthew jokes before we shake hands.
"Haven't missed the smartass comments," I playfully reply, and Matthew rolls his eyes at me. "I'll get that," I take a duffel bag from Matthew. The least I can do is hold his bag and take it inside. I am sure he is exhausted from the tour, just like everyone else, "Is there anything else?" I question, looking between Anastasia and Matthew.
Matthew shakes his head, "Thank you, Harry."
"What have I missed?" Anastasia beams, beginning to walk beside myself and Matthew.
"Not too much; the Palace is still standing; it has been rather quiet. Your mother decided to repaint her suite. There's a new dinner menu, Madeleine and Louis are roaming around, and we need to talk."
"Pippa," I respond.
Anastasia heavily sighs, "I've been home for two minutes."
"Mhm," I hum, "I hate to spring it on you, but if she doesn't get dubbed a title, she's telling everyone about Victoria, and they won't be a good look for you, so we are going to have to give her a title." So I inform Anastasia, deciding not to beat around the bush when it comes to things. Tiptoeing around the issues will only result in it blowing up on me.
Anastasia heavily sighs, "Fine, what else does she want? My blood?"
"I think that was next on her list of requests," I joke, "She's going to sacrifice you on the next full moon." I chuckle, amusing myself with the comment. Of course, I shouldn't joke about such a thing. There is a chance Pippa is crazy enough to sacrifice my wife at the next full moon. There is no telling what this woman will do to get what she wants.
"I wouldn't be surprised. May as well give her the title. I'm dissolving Parliament."
"She also agreed to help with that," I inform Anastasia.
"I have to open Parliament before May ends. Then, I'll have a meeting with Pippa."
"So, you're going ahead and dissolving?"
Anastasia nods her head effortlessly and without thinking twice, "Yes. The longer they're around, the longer the monarch fails. World leaders will back out away from us if I do not. Everyone sees how corrupt they are."
"Well," I begin, surprised by her sudden change of heart, I thought we were going to take them down slowly, but she's going full force and taking aim. "Whatever you decide, I am on board."
"We need to figure out why Pippa wants a title and what it is she wants with the monarch since she's not in this for good."
"I think she's a murderer, but nobody wants to hear that conversation."
"Harry!" Anastasia scolds, "You can't say that out loud."
I roll my eyes, "Clearly, someone is, and nobody can figure out who."
"All things done in the dark come to light," Anastasia comments, "Estelle," Anna waves down her assistant, "Meet me in my office in ten minutes," Anastasia instructs. "Harry, I want to know about your conversation with the president," Anna demands, giving me no room to protest.
Here we go.
"There are so many other things we could be doing," I wink, closing the door behind us as Anna walks towards her bed and falls face first.
"Perhaps after you tell me the details I need, we can consider those other things," Elise responds. "What do I need to know?"
"If you needed to know about that conversation, I would have told you, Anna."
"I beg to differ," Anastasia responds, rolling onto her back, so she looks over at me at ease.
I run my fingers through my hair, unable to argue with her. Anna is right. I can't deny that sometimes I don't tell her things even if she should know them. However, I have learned that keeping my mouth shut can save her more heartache than anything. There are some things that she doesn't need to deal with. "I was gathering information about your Father's death, that is all."
"What did you find out?"
"Darling, you know I hate having to do this."
"Not as much as I hate having to live through this, so please, enlighten me."
I shake my head and sigh. I am not sure how to wiggle my way out of this one. I was hoping she would forget by the time her tour ended. "My shoulder is hurting; I think I am going to go."
"Don't," Elise sits up, her eyes becoming daggers as she glares at me. "Don't walk out the fucking door."
"Harry," Anna presses, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know something you don't."
"No, you don't. I think you forget I am security,"
"I think you forget I am Queen with my own set of ways to get information."
I cock my head to the side, unable to tell whether she is bluffing or not. "What do you know?"
Anna shakes her head, "You first."
"You have jackshit," I chuckle, "I think we ought to have a rule that if it is better left unsaid, we don't push for it."
Anastasia sighs and lays back down on her bed, growing quiet. I step closer to the bed and carefully lay beside her, laying on my good shoulder as I prop myself up beside her. "Baby, some things are better left unsaid. I am not doing this to be a dick." I lean over and push a few strands of hair away from her face, "I genuinely love you, and I do this for your benefit, not mine."
"I know, but I don't like to be left in the dark."
"Believe me, being in the dark is sometimes better," I assure her.
Anastasia groans and rolls onto her stomach, resting her head on the pillow and looking at me, "I'm a bit hungry."
"Thought you'd be sweet and tell me how much you love me and missed me," I chuckle, running my hands through her soft hair.
"I love you, darling. Missed you a lot," Anna confesses.
I hum, "What do you want to eat, baby?"
"I just want a snack until dinner. Yoghurt and fruit would be nice."
"I'll go get you some fruit and yoghurt, any specific fruit?" I ask, sitting up on the bed and pulling myself to my feet, "Palace just got a delivery of fresh fruit, so we have it all."
Anastasia smiles at me, "Mango," she sleepily responds, "Why are you going? We have staff."
"I know," I respond, "Don't mind getting it for you. I'll be back," I continue, walking out of her room and closing the door behind me.
I step outside of the room and see Oliver and Matthew standing beside the door, "Not sure I like the two of you together," I point out, "What are you concocting?"
Matthew laughs and shakes his head, "Nothing. I'm on Anna's service for another hour until Oliver takes over."
"And I guess you're with me, Eaglette?" I raise a brow.
Oliver nods his head, "Yes, Sir. I was waiting on you."
"Come on, follow me," I gesture with my hand, beginning to walk down the hallway.
"Are we going to start doing archery yet?" Oliver questions, and I laugh.
"We are going to get my wife yoghurt. As for archery, you'll have to talk to Matthew about that training. I cannot train you. I don't have enough use of my shoulder." I inform him, "But, bow and arrows are fun. Dangerous but fun," I smile, remembering the training I went through with Matthew.
We are trained to use different devices and structures for safety. I don't think there will come a time where I'll need to use a bow and arrow to defend Anastasia or her mother, but if there's any time that I have to, I can happily announce that I'm a good aim. I'm not sure I have a steady arm now, but when Matthew was training with me, I had a steady arm, a good eye, and could hit a bullseye every time. Matthew would get irritated with me. We can laugh about it now, but back then, Matthew would smack me on the side of the head each time. Him hitting me is a sign of his love and support, I think. Most people give high fives or pets on the back, Matthew smacks me.
"Anna is going to ask about my talk with the Italian President. You tell her nothing, understand," I strictly inform Oliver. I know my wife. She can be like a dog with a bone. When Anastasia wants to know something, she rarely stops until she has it. "Keep all files and notes in the safes, don't let her into the security chambers unless I am there. She can be sneaky."
Oliver nods his head. "Yes, sir. Why are we getting fruit?"
"My wife wants yoghurt."
"Do you not have staff for that?"
I heavily sigh and roll my eyes. What is it with people relying on the staff?
I shift on the heavy door into the kitchen, "Indeed, but I finally have an excuse to take a look at a few things."
"You're not doing this out of love?" Oliver questions, following me into the kitchen as I glance around, looking around to see if there is anything out of place. I know the kitchen is pristinely kept. There is never anything out of order at any given moment.
I shake my head, "I love Anna and will happily bring her food, but I have ulterior motives."
"Here is a training lesson for you. Oliver, what day do we get flower deliveries?" I ask, spreading my hand over the stainless steel bench, welcoming the coldness under my touch.
Oliver grows reserved for a moment, "I am not sure."
I roll my eyes, continuing to wander the kitchen, "Okay, do you know when we get food deliveries?" I ask, turning around to face Oliver for a brief moment.
Oliver lifts his shoulders into a shrug, "Uhm… Wednesdays?"
"Sometimes, I question whether or not I have taught you well," I groan, shaking my head disapprovingly. "Flower deliveries are on Monday's, and food deliveries are on Wednesdays."
"I am not sure where you are going with this."
"Today is Friday, these flowers," I take one of the clusters from the vase, "Are freshly cut, the stem was cut today," I throw the flower stem to Oliver, "And food was delivered Wednesday."
Oliver glances at the flower, running his hand over the petals, "So, they're fresh? What's the big deal?"
"Oliver," I begin, my eyes casting themselves on a crystal bowl that customarily houses the most recent fruits. "Every time we get fruit, Grace immediately fills that bowl," I point, "The bowl is empty. Grace hasn't been in the kitchen yet."
"I'm still not following."
"Jesus Christ… Oliver, the deliveries are a setup. Pippa had me occupied while we had deliveries."
"You think she had something to do with this?" Oliver questions, starting to roam the kitchen, catching onto what I am attempting to get at.
The kid may be good with a gun, but he lacks the swiftness to put a puzzle together.
"I think someone entered the Palace and used these as ploys," I walk towards four wooden crates loaded with fruit. "You're on duty, call it in to have them thrown out, tell Ryan to check the security footage of the last two hours and make sure nobody unknown is in the Palace," I instruct, manoeuvring around the kitchen to attain the glass bowls.
"Why are you not doing it?" Oliver curiously asks.
"I am making a bowl of yoghurt. You're the leader on this one," I respond, giving him the go-ahead to take control. Matthew and I won't be around forever to always be in charge. Oliver needs to step up here and there. I need to know that on the days Matthew and I are not in the Palace, Oliver knows how to handle situations. I cannot trust Pippa or the government not to pull something shady while we are gone.
Oliver does as I instruct while I make Anna the bowl of fruit and yoghurt she had requested.
There is no way Pippa works alone, I don't think she killed Henry on her own, and I don't think she has the power to act independently either. She is not the mastermind of the unfortunate events that have occurred over the last year or so. I don't know what Pippa's motive is. She wants the monarchy to stay intact, but I am not entirely sure of why.
If the monarchy dissolves, what dissolves with it that has Pippa and other's going to extreme measures?
I tap my fingers on the stainless steel bench before I take a bite of the yoghurt, my eyes staring down at my reflection intently.
Whoever decided to deliver the fruits and flowers know the scheduled times we accept deliveries, and when the guards change, they have a Palace itinerary. "Oliver, have the itineraries changed and all deliveries put on hold," I instruct, hitting my fingers furthermore onto the bench, my brain moving at one-hundred miles a minute…
"Contracts… Contracts," I whisper. Anna had mentioned contracts before, but I thought nothing of it. Somewhere there is a paper trail. There has to be. I also remember the King discussing contracts and signing a few when I was on his service; however, he always made sure to be secretive— he knew what he was doing.
"What?" Oliver takes my attention.
I stare up at him, "Everyone is under contracts. I just need to find them. I need to take this to Anna and go into the King's Quarters."
"I can pick a lock," I respond, "And if I can't pick it, Anna has the key… somewhere," I mutter. "You handle this," I gesture around the kitchen, "Make sure to check who the fuck signed off on the deliveries," I instruct as I make my way towards the exit, on a mission to find the contracts that might be the pieces to the puzzle I am missing.
I wander into the Throne room, where I perceive Anastasia resting on the throne with one of the Royal swords on her lap. Her hand travels down the edges of the cover while the men of Parliament watch, all standing in proper suits. I glance towards Matthew, and he shrugs his shoulders subtly, indicating he has no clue what's going on. I step closer to him, my eyes focused on Anastasia. Anastasia takes the sword from its case and caresses her finger to the tip of the blade, gazing at the polished piece effortlessly and holding more power than I ever imagined attainable. Anastasia cocks her head to the side and smiles at the men, "I assume you're wondering why you're all gathered here today?" Anastasia questions, and the men all nod their heads, a few grunts escaping while a few shoes shuffle against the flooring.
I'm not sure whether this is good or bad, something inside me tells me I need to stop her, but I cannot.
This is her power. Not mine. On the other hand, I’m mildly turned on by this.
"You all know about the history of this sword, right?"… "We know it isn't The Sword of Mercy since this isn't the coronation of the British monarch." Anastasia begins, "This one holds so much history. I can only imagine how many people saw the wrong end of this," Anastasia stops glancing at the sword. She glances towards the parliament members, "In fact, in 1852, this very sword was used by King Aldrich, who slashed the arms of all the men who did him wrong. Legend has it, all men who were slashed three times and managed to fight off infection were cursed for the rest of their pitiful lives."
"Oh, God," I mutter under my breath, "Matthew, do you see this?"
"Shh, I want to hear the rest," Matthew responds, overseeing each man. "If you're not taking your throne beside her, shut up." Matthew presses, giving me his stern stare. He means business. I have no intentions of taking the seat beside her. I don't believe it is my place or my throne. I roll my eyes and swallow my thoughts; instead, I shut my mouth and watch.
The men all have bewildered expressions on their faces, and a few seem to move their weight from foot to foot nervously. "Princess—"
"It's Queen, and I'm not done speaking," Anastasia corrects one of the men, causing me to chuckle to myself. Damn.
Anastasia clears her throat and stands from her position on the throne, "As I was saying before, I was rudely interrupted by a man who seemingly is ready to use his male influence in an attempt to degrade me… This sword has a lot of history," Anastasia waves it around, "Don't be alarmed, I don't plan to use it just yet… But you're all banished. You're no longer my parliament members; I hereby dissolve you," Anastasia proclaims, gesturing the tip of the sword between the gathering of men.
"Her Majesty," one begins, "You can't get rid of all of us."
"Oh, I can… But if you wish to redeem yourself, you're more than welcome to bow and repent." Anastasia gestures towards the small space at the bottom of the steps.
"Have you lost your mind?" George, the man who was at the hospital when the King died, declares, unquestionably flabbergasted.
"I think you have if you think speaking to the Queen with that tone is acceptable."
"You're not Queen! You don't have power. You have a crown, which means Jack shit when you can't rule a country. You're unfit. The sovereign's powers are those of her government." Geroge's face is crimson red, and his hands are folding into a fist.
I hold my breath, not savouring his tone of voice but deciding to give Anastasia a chance to stand up for herself as Queen.
"And my government has evil ties."
"I declare she is forced to abdicate, and she cannot have the crown."
"The final call doesn't belong to you, sir," Anastasia responds, "And if the other members of Parliament don't have the balls to back you, I think it's safe to say that I, the Queen, have dissolved you."… "Of course, with the backing of Pippa, right, Pippa?" Anastasia looks towards Pippa, who is ostentatiously in the corner, doing her best to be inconspicuous.
Pippa nods her head. "I back the Queen with her decision. George and others have no means to repent. You cannot run in politics; your contracts from the King are up," Pippa speaks.
"Michael and James, you two may stay. The rest of you, unless repenting, may leave. And just as a reminder," Anastasia brings the tip of the sword to her finger yet again, "Don't forget sovereign's powers are those of her government and the world leaders behind her," Anastasia dismisses the men who instantly start quarrelling, their booming voices bouncing off the marble flooring.
I shake my head and stare at Matthew, "This is either going to be good or fucking bad." I murmur before making my way to Anna. I push through the men and climb the few steps where I stand before her while she sits on her throne. "Anna," I begin, unsure what I'm meant to say. I'm not sure if I'm meant to be proud or concerned. The repercussions of this could be grave and impact us horribly.
"That sword won't protect you from a storm of angry men," I comment, just heavy enough for the two of us to understand.
"They're too busy fighting amongst themselves," Anastasia shrugs, "Dissolving was the right thing to do."
I know she is correct, but this will open a can of worms that we don't want to deal with. Security will have to be heightened further.
"Live by the sword, die by the sword, Anna. I hope you know what you're doing." I am concerned she is holding a power that she can't keep a grasp of.
Anastasia peers at me and shrugs, "Guess I better make it worth dying for," she responds, "You don't have to agree with me."
"I'm concerned for your safety when it comes to dissolving these pricks. They could rebel and burn down the place."
"They don't have torches and pitchforks," Anastasia stands from her position and hands me the sword before kissing my cheek, "Keep this close, my darling."
I regard as Anastasia steps away from me, and I glare towards Matthew before scanning the room. Then, finally, I shake my head and follow Anastasia, trailing her away from the hostile parliament fellows and settling into a peaceful space. "Anna, what contracts was Pippa referring to?" I challenge, taking Anna by surprise as she spins on her heels. "Again, you need to be aware of your surroundings," I comment, aware she was not paying attention to the fact I followed her in here.
"Don't try to make me doubt my decision. I don't tell you how to do your job."
"Contrary to belief, you do," I shake my head, "But that isn't what I was asking. I am asking as your husband."
"My father had signed contracts; those men blackmailed dad and forced him into contracts to make sure they're a part of Parliament. But, of course, they didn't count on me finding out. Their contract ended the minute Dad passed. I assume that's why Georgie was at the hospital, determined to crown Henry as King so that George would have a solid position still."
"How did you know about the contracts?"
Anastasia shrugs her shoulders, "I too have my ways. I tried to tell you earlier, but you wouldn’t tell me your secrets. Pippa has a contract too, but she doesn't know that I know…. I'm not quite sure whether she's on our side or not."
"I'm telling you, I think she's with the bunch of clowns out there."
"Harry, I'm not quite sure," Anna shakes her head, "Why are you asking about the contracts?"
I grow quiet for a moment and shake my head, "I am going back to work."
"Harry," Anna stops me as I turn to walk away. I stop in my tracks and heavily sigh as I turn back around to face Anastasia. "You worked so closely with my father. How did you not know?"
"Anna, I need to go to work."
"You knew, didn't you?" Anastasia asks, her eyes narrowing down on me, and she steps closer to me.
"I knew there were contracts but did not have names. Your father was selective with who he spoke to. I am trying to find them all."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I clear my throat and adjust the sling around my neck to buy a few moments. But, unfortunately, I do not know how to tell Anna that her mother is also under a contract. Upon my casual breaking into the King’s Quarters, I found files hidden in the flooring. I do not know what the contract entails, but I know her name is written in cursive on a contract like the parliament men. As for when her contract ends, I do not know. The late King didn't give me much information, he made my job very hard, but I saw and overheard things but kept my mouth shut. Part of my job is keeping the King's integrity intact and keeping his secrets unless necessary to speak of. There are some things I will take to my grave about the late King out of respect for him. He was a brilliant King and a brilliant man. But, unfortunately, the evil of the world got the better of him and forced his hands.
Anastasia crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for my answer, "Have you come up with a good excuse to spin me or do you need more time?" Anastasia questions.
"Anna, be careful before you dig up something you don't want to dig up."
"What do you know that I don't?" Anastasia questions.
"Please don't make me tell you. I am begging." I breathe out, desperately not wanting to explain anything. I don't want to be the one to tell her about her mother's contract. I don't know what it entails, and I do not want to know. I am sure Anastasia's mother will kill me if I were to tell Anna. But as her husband, I don't know what to do.
Anastasia stands in front of me, cocking her head to the side as her beautiful eyes burn into me. With each moment that passes, I feel like I am on trial for murder and being examined intently, judged if you will. "Is it you?"
I instantly shake my head, "No, baby, it isn't me."
Anastasia nods her head and lets out a breath, "Some things are better left unknown, right?"
"In this case, yes," I nod my head, "Try not to stab anyone while I am working," I instruct, kissing her lips quickly.
Anastasia smiles and chuckles before shrugging her shoulders, "I cannot promise anything. You taught me how to use a knife well."
I shake my head, "Am I going to regret that?" Then, I question, "Because I am going to need a heads up if I need to move and hide another body."
Anna relocates her hair from around her face and shifts it behind her shoulders to fall down her back. "I'll ask Pippa for help; you seem to think she is good at it."
"Oh, God," I mutter, "Goodbye, Anna, I will see you later," I chuckle, stepping away from her and walking out of the quiet room. I enter into the hallway of bustling staff, almost getting knocked over by one. "Watch it," I warn, letting out a breath, my heart racing at the idea of someone ramming into my shoulder.
The man glares at me, and I raise a brow as he shuffles past me and continues on his journey. I shake my head disapprovingly but shrug it off. It isn't my place to tell the staff what to do, but I expect they don't run around like chickens with their heads cut off, running into everyone.
I make my way down the hallway, listening to the in-ear as Oliver and Matthew debate who is meant to be on surveillance in the security chambers. I roll my eyes at the two of them, chuckling to myself before I peer into each office, trying to find Anna's mother, Wilhelmina.
I encounter her at a desk and knock on the door out of respect, waiting for her to send me off. Instead, Wilhelmina gestures at me, and I close the door behind me. "Must be private if you're closing the door," she laughs.
I nod my head and step closer to her desk. "You're serious," she presses, and I nodded again.
"Your highness," I begin, but she graciously cuts me off.
"For the love of God, call me Willow or Mum, you decide. You are not my servant or security. You are my daughter's husband."
I clear my throat, "Sorry, Willow," I correct myself, feeling weird to have her name leave my lips. "I need to inform you that Anna knows about the contracts."
Willow stares at me and puts her pen down, "I did not tell her, but she is likely to start digging. So I am giving you a warning. She is my wife, and I do not want to see her hurt any more than she is," I inform Willow, "I do not know what is in your contract, and I do not care to find out, but I don't want her getting hurt. So I believe we have an understanding?" I question, taking the silence of Willow to be an agreement that we are on the same page.
Willow nods her head, "How much does she know?"
"About as much as I do, now. All Anna knows is there are contracts, but she does not know one is yours. She has found out about parliaments. That is why there is a mob of angry men in the throne room." I place the sword on Willow’s desk,
"Oh, yes. I figured Anna was up to something when she asked where the sword was."
"And you gave it to her?" I curiously ask.
Anastasia's mother shrugs her shoulders and picks her pen up between her fingers, "Harry, her killing those men would be the least of my problems; they have it coming."
"What is it with you women on a killing spree today?" I question lightly.
Willow doesn't respond; instead, she continues to write on her paper. I can only assume she is replying to a letter of some sort, "Parlament is not my problem, my concern is the Aces, and who all they entail."
"Well, two are dead," I inform her, "As you know, both tragic palace incidents. As for Henry's father, I can't trace him. My private investigator is trying. We don't know what this man even looks like." ... " Can you not give me a description to work with?"
"I would if I could, but the man changes his appearance like a bloody chameleon. The man is an utter mystery. All I know is that he is very dangerous and cunning. He is like the Joker card in a pack of cards, and you never want to fucking play with it." Willow informs me.
Often, the Joker is a wild card and thereby allowed to represent other existing cards. This man, who remains a mystery, changes his appearance to express what he is trying to desire. Not having a description of him makes it harder to find him. I guess this is what makes him so powerful; nobody sees him coming. He is probably the mastermind behind absolutely everything, including Victoria and Henry's death.
Willow seals an envelope and stamps it before hovering it over her desk, gesturing for me to take it. I accept the vanilla envelope and look at her, "Will you make sure this is sent off?" she questions, and I nod my head. I am unsure why she is asking me to deliver her mail; she has an assistant who does that, but who am I to tell her no? "Also, how is the shoulder?"
"Uh, fine," I respond, looking down at the envelope that seems awfully familiar. I blink at it a few times, flashing back to being at my mother’s house when I got back from the Netherlands, accompanying Matthew and the King.
I am not sure how to explain the mail. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first letter I have received in the last month or so, I don’t think it will be the last, but I do know that it seems like whoever is sending these letters knows my every move. Nobody knows that we are here beside her parents, and Matthew, the new guy, doesn’t even know. Matthew put him on paid leave until we need him. The only thing I can think of is someone within the palace staff has managed to figure things out and is trying to leak information… I highly doubt her parents would be behind the letters, although that would be a plot twist, I can’t say that it wouldn’t be something that could happen. After all, nothing seems to be off the table. It is time I tell Matthew about the mail I have been receiving, and it is time for us to come up with a plan to figure out who is behind it all. At first, I didn’t think much of it all, but now with them sending things to my mother’s house, it shows they are watching me- they’re watching Anna.
I pick up the envelope with Anastasia’s name on the front of it, and I open it, holding my breath with every inch of the paper that rips between my fingers. Then, finally, I take the piece of paper out, slowly unfolding it before I read the ink scribbled on the paper.
“I know about you and Harry… It will all be revealed soon. Stay alert, Princess. You’re next.”
I fold the letter back up, and I place it in the envelope, not wanting even to see what the other one says. I believe these are empty threats by someone bored and lonely, probably an ordinary civilian, but at the same time, a part of me is concerned it is one of the people who Is after her father. They’re not going to stop until the Ace’s get what they want, and the King refuses to give up his power and money to them. He has paid his dues, and that isn’t enough for that money-hungry family.
It could be Henry, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he is the one behind this, but I have this feeling the reasons for his previous behaviours weren’t based on his logical thinking but more so his mothers. I think his mother was behind a lot of his erratic and psychotic behaviour. I think his mother is the true evil one. I am not remorseful that she is no longer living. Quite honestly, it was just a matter of time before she did more damage to Anastasia’s family. Anna doesn’t know this, but I have been watching Victoria since I met her at the Garden party. On my off days, I would do my best to follow her in an attempt to figure her out, she didn’t do many things out of the ordinary, but there were a few red flags that I did take note of, none of which were enough to build too much against her in such a short time. Matthew did his best to keep track of Henry and Victoria, and the one thing we can’t seem to figure out is… Who is Henry’s father?
There is no name attached to the man the King was talking to. There was never a man around at the Garden event that introduced himself as Henry’s father. I have tried to look up birth certificates, but I can’t find Henry’s. I can’t even find Victoria’s marriage certificate.
End of Flashback
I run my finger over the envelope, and I come to terms with the fact that this exact stationery is oddly similar to the ones I used to receive, the same letters that suddenly stopped out of nowhere once we got married and the King died.
Was the King sending me letters?
Was the Queen sending me the letters?
Willow takes me away from my thoughts, "Anastasia is right. You are a bad liar."
I bow my head and hide my smirk before I make eye contact with Willow, "Quite painful, but it's normal. I just hope I gain movement back."
"As expected. You don't have to work. You can take it easy."
"All due respect, being on bed rest drives me crazy. But, on the other hand, I usually know when it's time to rest." ... "I will mail this for you; anything else?"
"No, that is all."
“I have another question if you have time? I have two.”
“My time is valuable, son. Make it worth it,” Willow smiles towards me, and I chuckle.
I thought for a moment, debating whether I want to ask the question or not. I know this may be crossing the line, but I need answers, and Willow is my source right now. “Does anyone else have access to your stationery?” I curiously question.
“Are you fascinated with my stationery?”
“Yes, I would love my own set,” I sarcastically respond.
Willow raises a brow before rolling her eyes, “Yes, the stationary is throughout the palace, Pippa uses it, Matthew has used it, really anyone,” Willow informs me, not helping me at all.
I hum, "Can you tell me about the hidden trust?"
Willow grows quiet for a moment before glancing around, "What do you want to know?"
"Everything," I respond bluntly. I don’t want half-assed answers. I need to know everything to stop whatever shitshow is going on. I will give Anastasia and this palace the peace they deserve. We all deserve a smooth palace without having to look over our shoulders and wonder what will happen next.
"I don't know everything… The trust is set up so that if the monarchy fails or is abolished, everything in that trust dissolves."
"What's in it?"
"A lot, Harry. It holds the most valuable parts and most of the money.”
“No wonder Pippa doesn’t want the monarch to dissolve.”... “How is it accessed?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I do,” I nod, “I am trying to keep everyone safe and figure things out.”
“Through you,” Willow comments, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. “You might want to sit down,” Willow gestures towards the chair, and I take her up on her offer.
I sit down in the chair and stare at her, unable to figure out what the fuck to ask next.
My head is swirling with thoughts, mainly how the hell I managed to get this deep into things.
Willow leans into her desk and pulls out a glass before she ever so carefully pours a golden liquid from a decanter into the crystal glass. Willow slides the glass to me, “You’ll need that,” Willow gestures towards the unknown liquor. Whatever it is, I hope it is fucking intense. “Harry, when you married Anna, you got more than you ever bargained for. Her father had an idea that you two were together. He tried to convince me on many nights that you two were in love. I thought he was reading too much into things. He was right, however. So when he tried to set Henry up with Anna, he knew that there was a high chance the two of you would come up with a plan to work around the situation. Granted, towards the end, he was frustrated with things. But, he knew that you wouldn’t let Anna marry Henry or anyone else if it wasn’t for love, so he bound the contracts so that when he died, whoever was Anna’s husband or boyfriend by love would become reigning King until she was fit to be Queen.”
I nod my head, unable to find my words as Willow continues to speak. “As you became King, her father also made sure that the second trust would be in your care. It is the most powerful. Anastasia rules this monarch, but you are the heir of everything— they will never figure out that it is yours, so god forbid, if anything happens to Anna, they don’t get everything in that trust. It’s yours.”
“So, what you’re saying is, they’re trying to get to her over a trust that is tied to me?”
“So, I am tied to something that is going to get me killed, eventually? Great.”
“Even if you die, they can’t access the trust. So instead, it gets handed to your heir.”
“I do not have one,” I comment.
“Well, at any given time, you can change who gets the trust. You can do what you want with it. Hell, you can spend it all if you want. It’s full of estates, money, jewels, and many things people don’t know about, it has deeds to towns, ownership of beaches, you name it… What is in that trust can be used to control much more power than you think. We hold that power to stop evil from getting their hands on it and taking over and destroying this country.”
“I assume that is what Pippa wants?”
Willow nods her head, “It is what they all want, Pippa, Parlament, Henry’s father, and God knows who else. They just don’t know how to get it. As long as one of us royals stays alive, they can’t access the trust.”
“So, when Pippa told me, she needed the monarch to succeed, and for me and Anna to stay alive, she meant that she needed the monarch not to be abolished because then the trust would also become void?”
“Yep, if the monarchy ends, so does everything in that trust.”
“Can we just end it? Please?” I ask with a plea.
I am not sure how much more of this I can handle.
“You can’t,” Willow shakes her head, “Not until there is an heir.”
“I will find a way to end this shit before an heir.”
Willow shrugs her shoulders, “There’s a sword, use it,” Willow comments, referencing the sword Anna used today that I placed on the desk, “I know you also have an array of weapons, and there is enough space in the gardens to bury them. I am sure I can find some beautiful flowers to plant over them.”
“Bit morbid,” I comment.
While they all seem to be trying to kill the royals, Willow is trying to convince me to kill them. It’s one big cat and mouse game on who can stay alive the longest it seems.
“There is more than one way to skin a cat, Harry. Why do you think my garden is so beautiful? I don’t let snakes slither in it.”
“I don’t even want to know,” I shake my head, a chuckle escaping my lips, “I need to get back to work before angry men storm the Palace.” Then, finally, I dismiss myself and the conversation, stepping out of the room and back into the bustling hallway that seems to be a traffic spot.
I stand in the hallway and watch as the staff go back and forth, all of them not stopping for a second to breathe. I shake my head, yet again, brushing it all off and continuing with my duties.
Out of nowhere, it hits me. The gardens, the snake, the references, it all suddenly clicks.
My eyes grow wide, and my shoes start hammering the flooring as I begin to hurry down the hallway, excusing myself as I pass the staff, eager to find Matthew. “Harry,” Anastasia calls my name as I get closer to her. I stop for a second and press my hands on her hips, “Baby, I need to go, I love you,” the words hurry from my lips, and I kiss her forehead, wasting no time with leaving her and continuing with my pace.
I find Mathew in the throne room. His arms are crossed over his chest as he shakes his head at the last two men bickering in the large area. “Matthew,” I breathe out.
“The fuck did you do? Run a marathon?”
“I know who killed Victoria and Henry.”
“Who?” He whispers, pulling me out of the throne room and shoving me into a secret room, “You know better than to open your mouth like that in public. I trained you better. If it weren’t for your shoulder, I’d punch the shit out of your arm.” Matthew threatens, not pleased that I stepped out of line and spoken when I should not have.
“Sorry,” I breathe out, “But it was Willow.”
“How much morphine have you had today?”
“This isn’t funny, Matthew.” I shake my head, “When we had to move Victoria, one of the possibilities for her was to bury her out in ‘the island within the lake'. The dangerous part of the gardens that are forbidden that Willow suggested.”
“Willow just commented to me, long story short, she referenced me killing parliament, stating there’s more than one way to skin a cat—“
“Harry, mate, I think you need to rest.”
“Matthew,” I shake my head, “Why do you think my garden is so beautiful? I don’t let snakes slither in it.” I repeat word for word what Willow said. “Matthew, Victoria died from a snake bike according to the coroner report, but you and I both know that wasn’t the case. She was strangled and then bitten, just like Henry was strangled in the same manner and left to be found. And guess where Henry is? At the bottom of the fucking lake, never to be found on the request of Willow” … “Willow killed both of them but was smart enough not to leave a trail. She doesn’t want to be found out, but she doesn’t want us to keep looking into it. That’s why she keeps telling us to stick to the prior King’s assassin.”
“Do you think it was her who killed the King?”
I shake my head, “I don’t know. But while I made that discovery, I was also told about the second trust. Did you know about it?”
“The trust that holds fortunes?”
“Yeah, did you happen to know it goes to the king, me? Because I sure as fuck had no clue how much I was tied down to this monarch.”
Matthew shakes his head, “Nope. No clue. You’re going to have a lot of people after you.”
“Thanks,” I roll my eyes, “I’ll make sure to sleep peacefully,” I mutter, stepping out of the confines of the secret room and walking into the hallways of the palace.
We all have motives to kill Victoria and Henry, we are all suspects, including myself. However, for all attacks, I have an alibi. With Victoria’s death, I was recovering from my surgery, doped up on morphine, barely managing to stay awake for more than an hour. The King kept me hidden in one of the rooms of Windsor. I don’t remember much besides the fact I woke up to him on a phone call talking to someone who I can only assume was Henry’s father. I was in no position to even think about killing Victoria. It could have been the King or the Queen, for all I know. As for Henry’s death, I had spoken to him in the bathroom and told him to keep his mouth shut. He insisted on expressing that it was Pippa who killed the King and parliament. After that dinner, I took Anna to her room, and I started to work. I patrolled the grounds of Windsor, walking around the bottom floor with Oliver, testing him with a few questions in regards to our job, making sure he is still in training and up to par.
If it wasn’t me who made the kills, and it wasn’t Matthew or Oliver, it leaves: Pippa, Anna, Willow, parliament, a possible unknown outsider and Henry’s Father. I don’t foresee Mr.Ace killing his wife and son, but it is assumed that Mr.Ace truly is the father and husband of the two. Unfortunately, there are no records of this man. I cannot find a marriage certificate or a birth certificate. As far as I know, this man could have changed his identity many times. After all, Willow has stated that he changes his appearance like a chameleon.
Years ago, it was known for the Royal men to have affairs and multiple wives and women; perhaps there’s a scandal I have yet to uncover, something nobody wants to be dug up beside the killers of the king. Nevertheless, I will get to the bottom of everything, one way or another.
I have many theories running through my mind, many things that I need to be answered. As innocent and sweet as willow is, I can’t help but wonder if she plays a graver part in everything. I believe my mother in law loved her husband, but nothing makes sense anymore.
If the Aces saved her life, why are they determined to make Anna’s life hell?
Why can I not figure out who the fuck Henry’s father is?
Why is there nobody in line to take the throne? Not even a distant relative stands. It all ends with Anastasia.
What’s Pippa's motive for wanting a title? She can’t do much with it— she’ll never be Queen.