Copg: " his crown "

"His crown"

"He gifted her with a weapon infused with his essence. Since this day, Elpis was wondering what she could gift her beloved with to express her gratitude. She spent a couple of months thinking about what she wanted to do until it hit her. She already spoke of a gift she wanted to give him: A crown. His crown. It would not be just any piece of gold or precious metal. It would actually be a crown infused with her own essence, something that will be everlasting and powerful enough to withstand any type of attack. It would be a unique gift, something Pride wouldn't find anywhere else. On top of it, it would be something she made for him, a token of her affection imbued with her love for him. It would be a powerful artifact, something that would empower him whenever he would need that energy. 

The goddess didn't know how to forge, however, she knew how to build. His crown would be made of pure Light, a piece of her essence she would willingly give him. The thought made her smile and she could feel the butterflies in her stomach. The execution, however, was far more difficult than she had anticipated and required intense and careful work that lasted months. Elpis couldn't manifest her full aura, no matter the ancient spells Pride had cast all to protect their hideouts. Her energy signature was far too powerful to go unnoticed if she unleashed all of it for a long period of time. So she did it slowly, bit by bit.  On top of the foreseeable fatigue that comes with giving one's essence into an object, came the pain from doing so. It hurt more than she had anticipated and with the pain mixed with fatigue, forging this crown took her several months. 

Finally, after all that hard work, Elpis was finally done with her endeavor. The crown was beautiful, so beautiful that it took a magic box and a spell of hers to hide its energy signature. She was excited about it and was hoping she would be able to give it to her beloved. She wanted to see his face when he would open the box and see the present she got him. it was exciting for the goddess who could barely hide her joy. It would come in time when he would be ready to receive her gift. Until then, she would keep it safe and hidden."

GoT: -A passion for dancing- (regular)

"Princess Bäahal used to be an entertainer a while ago. Unfortunately for her, she was too pretty to remain a field slave, too pretty to just be a house slave, too regal to become a lady's maiden.  Princess Bäahal was taught to become an entertainer. She danced and sang to her masters and their guests. She looked so pretty and so innocent in her early days as a dancer. "The Jewel of Astapor" was the title they gave her, to justify the incredible price they would sell her for the night. She would dance and sing, let the adult slaves take the brunt of the sexual desires of those men. That lasted until she became old enough and the desire those men had was unbearable to hold back. She was taught another style of dance, one that didn't need her to make many efforts. They would take whatever shreds of innocence she had and would leave her alone on the bed. Disposable. she learned she was nothing but an object to play with and toss when they were done. There were little to no more dances but the more they used her, the sharper her skills became until the day she managed to kill a "client". 

Death became her ticket for more freedom. She became an assassin and had to accept the blood she had on her hands, but at least they weren't using her body anymore, they weren't breaking her spirit anymore. She was in control. The more she took some lives, the more she regained control of her life and her desires. The secret dream of her mother lived on and soon enough, she set herself free with one last murder -her master's- Death became the dance she was the most familiar with and one she didn't want to part ways with. It ensured her survival, it ensured the victory of the only family she had left: Daenerys. Death became necessary but slowly and surely, the hardened skin started to soften and she regained her first love: Dancing. she remembered the moves, she remembered the songs and with or without an orchestra, the young woman was able to return to her peak. She danced for her siblings and for her friends. She even danced for Ser Jaime once, allowing him to see the true beauty of her mother's legacy.  These days, dancing became a refuge for the princess, a way for her to express herself when words were not enough. Life had strange ways but she embraced them altogether."

Klasma : What a strange mix

 "What a strange mix:" 

"Mystic Falls... How many times had Elijah been there throughout the centuries? He couldn't count, but it definitely was a place he had visited more than once. It attracted supernatural creatures like catnip did to cats. How strange! However, the Original didn't really care about this though. He discarded it quite fast because he was worried about his witch and his brother. Klaus had a nasty habit of leaving his family and going on a rampage somewhere else. He was a hybrid, a danger to himself and a danger to his family. Elijah was concerned about his little brother and wanted to find him. Klaus was self-destructive, and despite his words and short-lived disappointment the original could have towards his brother, he was worried about him. He knew Klaus was in pain because of a curse he didn't ask for. He knew his brother was in a complicated mental state, bouncing from something good for him, to something really bad. This attitude fell onto the family and they had to fight Klaus' enemies more than once.

It could have been happening again. Elijah wasn't sure. He did tail him though and noticed the number of dead witches who had struck an alliance with Elijah to protect his family in the last couple of years. He had kept tabs on Asma and knew she had settled at Mystic Falls where Klaus had headed and had feared that his hot-headed brother had found her and killed her. Asma would have been hard to kill but it wouldn't be impossible to do so. Especially if one knew her weaknesses. She was a witch and was as fragile as a human, but she also was vulnerable to silver and Vervain. It was one of the reasons she never drank anything she hadn't made herself and was careful to protect herself from being in contact with pure silver. Perhaps Klaus had found out, perhaps she was dead! Elijah felt he had to hurry and headed to Mystic Falls as soon as he could. 

What a relief that was, to discover that Asma was still alive and that Klaus had been in town. What bothered the Original, however, was to discover his witch had contacts with Klaus and was behaving in a very strange and hostile way. She was angry at him for reasons he couldn't place and was starting to suspect that his brother told her something. She was guarded, secretive, and to make things worst, she was very distant with him. He noticed that she was bolder, more assertive and that she spoke of her attempt to find Klaus because she wanted to make sure he was alright. What a strange mix! An original and a very old cursed Witch. They couldn't be together, Elijah thought to herself, still brushing off the idea that there was anything between the two of them. He simply mused at the idea and knew that if the two of them got together, mayhem would ensue. 

Klaus was self-destructive and Asma was very sensitive. Both of them had been through a lot, but Asma did suffer the most from being forced to isolate herself from the others. She had to kill, she had to run away and hide, she didn't have any outlet to let her frustration out except for Elijah who half-listened to her stories. Asma was sensitive yet powerful and Klaus was explosive and the two of them would only have a toxic relationship. Elijah refused to take his chances and eventually let his brother hurt himself or deprive the family of a powerful asset. What a strange mix, these two...what to do?"

Doya - Tangled

" Tangled": 

"  They didn't believe in words to express their deepest emotions. Oya and Dean knew they were in love with each other and they knew they chose each other to be their partner until death did them apart. It was a tacit agreement not to speak of words because they tended to hide the truth. Both of them had bad experiences with love declarations, especially when those relationships turned sour. Oya saved those words for when it was important. She said them when she was about to die at the hands of Pluto. It was special, and even to this day, she associated the words with painful memories. 

They didn't believe in words to express their deepest emotions but they found plenty of other ways to show the other they were their world. Their favorite moment had to be when they were sleeping next to each other, tangled on the mattress. Dean always made sure to kiss her arms before they could fall asleep, showing her that he loved her as she was, scars or not. He would let her run her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp while she would tell him something sweet or silly. They laughed a lot together, especially before falling asleep. It was a ritual, somehow, a way to protect them from the evil of the outside world. They would hug each other, so Oya would have fewer nightmares at night. 

They didn't believe in words to express their deepest emotions, but they made sure the others knew just how important they were to them. Oya left scratches on Dean's back, she made him bleed a little every time they made love because she wanted him to remember her the next day. She enjoyed seeing her work, of course, but more than the primal instinct that drove her to mark him, it was her very specific way to tell him they belonged together. He would return the favor with cooking for them any chance he would get. Feeding her was an affectionate gesture, a testament to his love for her. It wasn't just because Oya sucked when it came to cooking, it was because he prepared something for the both of them, something that would put a smile on her face and something that would spare her from hunger. It was symbolic, it was true."

Rebellion

Here comes a moment when you have enough. The suffocation reached a critical point and it has to stop.

There is nothing left inside of you, at least, no more energy to keep enduring the situation. It has to stop!

You turn the idea around in your head, you try to stop yourself from breaking the routine, you are afraid.

You can't possibly run away and leave everything behind. You can't possibly break their heart, right? 

You can't possibly be the villain in their story. How could you, after all, they had done for you? 

So you hold back, you hold back and you pray for your body to hold on until they change their behavior. 

But your mind is screaming in agony, your mind is begging you to leave, to put an end to your misery.

It has to stop! It has to stop! 

Here comes a moment when you can't continue. Your energy is depleted, the love inside you is dead. 

Your body is aching because you keep sacrificing yourself for them. You give them time, love, attention.

You give so much that there is nothing left of you. You give so much that you forgot who you are. Why?

Why would you hurt yourself that much for ungrateful souls who would never give back to you? 

Why do you accept their argument about blood being thicker than water and some fallacious statements?

How could you buy into their bullshit, willingly forsaking your mental and physical health? Why?

Is it because you feel that you owe them your life? Is it because they smothered you throughout the years?

It has to stop! It has to stop! 

And you can do it! 

Here comes a moment when your mind is breaking down. Your brain explodes, your heart beats faster.

You become afraid of their very shadow, and listening to their names feels like being stabbed in the soul.

They have become a recurring nightmare for you, something you can't seem to be able to escape from.

They share your blood but that's the only thing they share with you. They don't love you. They don't care.

They would see you as something convenient, something to use, something to play with and destroy. 

They would see you as pawns or perhaps wonderful little helpers who would help them live a better life. 

Tools...Maybe even just devices. They put you on Earth to do their bidding and fulfill their dreams.

Nothing less, nothing more, you realize that there is no love, no warmth, no concern about your safety.

It has to stop! It has to stop! 

For decades, they tried to mold you into someone you weren't. They tried to dictate you your personality.

They tried to shape you into puppets who would do, as they say, think as they wish and never refuse.

What they didn't know is that rebellion was rushing in your veins! Your spirit wasn't crushed! It lives on! 

What they didn't know is that you would put an end to their tyranny, you would make a life for yourself.

And no matter how many times they try to destroy you, they would never succeed because you're stronger.

You will survive this ordeal, you will remain determined and loving, they won't succeed in destroying you.

They don't know you, they don't care about you, they are too blinded by their power to see through you.

Let them underestimate you, let them look down on you because, in the end, you'll have the last laugh.

You'll make it stop!

And you will do it! 

GoT (modern): "Something sweet"

 A/N: Can't really forget about these two, now can I? 

XXXX

Jaime couldn't sleep that night. He was too busy trying to sort out his emotions. After Bäahal was assaulted, the Lannister was restless. She saw a side of him he wasn't really proud of. Jaime was a hot-head. He was impulsive, he was ready to do anything to protect those he loved, which could always lead to a fight. She saw his anger on the night he picked her up from the party, his eyes were burning with rage but he made sure to put her to safety first. That night, Jaime watched as the young woman slept in his bed. He couldn't sleep, so he opted to pull an all-nighter. His phone buzzed all night from the tabloids fighting to be the first to publish details about the incident. He saw her bloody face, the sheer terror in her eyes right after she had kicked her assailant in the groin. He saw how lonely she felt despite being surrounded by the guests of the party. The pictures were awful and it made his guts churn. 

Jaime was attached to the young woman. It would be lying to say that he didn't care about her. The "Highgarden Incident" as she called him bothered him to a level he had not anticipated. He was angry at Daenerys for forcing her sister into such a situation. He was angry that he wasn't there to protect Bäahal. He was angrier at Bronn for calling him and talking about all the nasty things he wanted to do to /his/ Bäahal. Just the thought of another man touching her, teasing her, fucking her was enough for the Golden Lion to lose his mind to blind rage. He felt it in his chest, the burning desire to protect what was his...who belonged with him. The primal possessivity of his only crept out when he was genuinely into someone. He was into Bäahal, that was the moment he realized he was. 

His first reaction was to ignore her for a while. He didn't reply to her texts, didn't take her calls, basically ghosting her to the point that she rushed to his place to have a word with him. His first reaction betrayed his emotions for the young woman. He missed her, cursed himself for his impulsive behavior, and wished she would come to their secret lair uninvited like she so often did. With her not coming, he was starting to feel that something was missing and his house felt lonelier. He was used to spending time with her by now. He was used to hearing her laugh, to see her smile, and to cooking together. He was used to sleeping next to her warm cuddly body. He was used to her gentle touch, her hands running over his sensitive skin, massaging his bearded chin, his scalp, and the rest of his body as she pleased. He was used to her soft voice whispering lovely nothings. And for a while, he didn't have it and realized that he was craving it. He was craving her.

However, since the party incident, things took a turn to the worst for Jaime. He knew he was hooked on her because on top of the righteous anger he had when he saw her bruised face, there was also the dire need to protect her from harm anyway he could. He had thought about asking her to come to settle with him but was stopped in his thoughts by the cruel reality of their lives. They were heirs to the two richest families to ever grace the world. They were "enemies" by birth, automatically taking upon their parents' beef. Well, in theory, because in reality, they didn't care about their last names or the family history. They didn't care at all but their siblings did. Aerys II might have died, there still was his father Tywin Lannister and this man would do anything in his power to ruin this relationship if he could. 

Relationship... Jaime caught himself smiling softly at the idea. They were seeing each other, yes, and there was a connection he couldn't quite define but could we talk about a relationship so soon? She seemed to be on board with it, but he wasn't sure. She kept holding back her words, picking carefully what she was about to say (but only when it came to the true nature of her feelings for him). It felt as if they danced around the elephant in the room. They loved each other. They were genuinely into one another and they were slowly but surely building a life together. Yet, they danced around it and avoided talking about their feelings. They avoided talking about what Jaime did out of fear that it could ruin things. She wasn't happy he hurt that man, not because she cared about the man but because she didn't want Jaime to be consumed with rage. They didn't see eye to eye about it, but he understood her concerns. 

"I am happy with you." -She finally whispered, rolling on her side as she was half-awake. Jaime turned his head to look at her.-

"What?"

"I said...I am happy with you, Jaime Lannister. Regardless of what happened recently.. regardless of our family's historical beef... I am happy with you."

He turned around and gently laid on his flat, so he could look at her face. Some silver strands had fallen on her face, so he slowly put them behind her ear. A tired smile crept on her lips and she gently cupped his cheek. Her beautiful purple eyes stared into his emerald ones and she nodded quietly. She was content because she knew that Jaime cared for her. She trusted him and believed his words. Her love for him was so blatant that even a blind person would have seen it. Jaime did. Bäahal did, but she still chose to tread carefully. After all, they weren't safe out there. She sighed but smiled at him. 

"It's good to know. I'm happy with you too. You've made this place something sweet, Bäahal."

"Something sweet?" -She lifted a brow and chuckled softly.- "You mean, that it's also a little bit my place now, right? I left a few things here..."

"You settled nicely. I like to see your things at our house."

"Our...Jaime... This is /your/ house, I'm a guest here." -She gently said, smiling at him warmly. He gently leaned his forehead to hers and shook his head.

"It's ours...If you want to." His voice was laced with emotion and barely audible, which had Bäahal open her purple eyes widely. 

"I do. You said it yourself, this place has turned into something sweet and I want to try it for as long as I can. As long as you want me to be here." -She gently pressed her lips to his and wrapped her arm around his chest, pulling him into an embrace- "Don't let go of me, please..." -she whispered in her soon-to-fall-asleep tone.-

"I don't intend to." 

He reassured her, his hand now stroking her silver hair. How could he do such a thing? How could he let her go? She made his life better, just by being there. She soothed his heart and cleared the bad thoughts from his mind. He wanted to have her in his life, and even more at home. That was something he'd rarely felt for someone but Bäahal wasn't your regular person. She was something more, something sweet.

-TBC-

TVD- Witchy Hour: Unleashed

 A/N: I miss them. I also wanted to show what could happen if Asma let her anger out and why she’s desperately trying to reign in her anger. 

Xxxxx

Mystic Falls, Saturday night, 9 pm

Asma was playing with her glass of wine, twirling the glass as if she didn't care if it spilled over the table she was drinking at or not. As a matter of fact, the witch didn't care. She was too busy thinking about Klaus' whereabouts and the motives that had him come back to Mystic Falls. She had a clue, given how popular this place with supernatural creatures, was. Her time there had her meet with the resident trouble-makers and danger-magnet: Elena Gilbert and her best friends, the Salvatore brothers who happened to have caused a lot of damages since they became vampires. Klaus stated that he wanted to find his enemies and end them before they could hurt him and his family. She could understand. She would have done the same. As much as she hated that side of hers, the cursed witch had a strong survival instinct. She had not told him yet about what she did centuries ago. She had not confessed her bloodlust to him that was still taunting her. Hell, she even buried the memories she had when she was unleashed. Asma hated losing control, she hated it because she relished in it.

That night, she chose to drown her sorrow with alcohol, thinking that it would spare her the shame that threatened to burst out of the neat bubble she put it in. Shame... why would she feel shame for protecting herself? why would she feel shame for wanting to live? Her forefinger tapped against the half-full glass of wine and she pursed her lips into a pout. It was different and she knew it. There was a thin line between self-defense and straight-up murder. No matter how she called it, what she did to those witch-hunters, that was murder. She hunted her hunters and when the cursed witch found them, she was merciless. A frown crept on her face, causing a small crease in between her eyebrows. Why did she go on a rampage again? How did she do it?  Asma started to think. She searched through her memories, trying to unlock what she'd been avoiding for decades. Yes! Decades! Her last rampage was only a couple decades ago, during the '70s. 

Asma had found a shelter in France, a place that was far more welcoming than America at the time -or so she thought- She didn't feel like an alien anymore, instead she belonged. Asma managed to become a musician. She would play piano at night, complimenting the voice of the Jazz singers who wanted to try their luck on stage. She could enjoy the city life, she could blend in. The witch always made sure to hide her eyes with a pair of sunglasses, pretending to be blind so people wouldn't ask her to remove them and wouldn't be too curious about her. her hair at the time was still natural, a beautiful jet-black color that framed a perfect face. The woman was gorgeous, and her curse enhanced that beauty to extraordinary levels. She had to admit that it took her some time to recognize herself in the mirror, to dominate her fear of the odd color of her eyes. It took a while to see the impact her newfound beauty caused others. It would attract people whether she wanted it or not. It would make them curious, envious, jealous, and violent. It would increase the probability of incidents and she was proven right. 

She could trust no one. Humans, Witches, Vampires, and Lycans were meant to hunt her down. France was the first place she encountered witch-hunters and realized that her legend was still going strong. Witches kept the memory of what she did alive and some decided to take matters into their own hands. One of the musicians at the bar she was playing, told her that two women were looking for her. He described them to Asma as well as the tablecloth one of them used to doodle on. Asma recognized them as witchcraft symbols. She thanked the man and started her own investigation, using the tablecloth to cast a spell and find the witches. Her memory became foggy again. She couldn't remember very well what happened after she learned witches were looking for her. It was blurry but she could remember bits and pieces, especially how she was feeling. 

She felt like a trapped animal, determined to kill those who wanted to kill her. She remembered the anger at the whole situation, how unfair it was that she was denied a normal life and how that anger turned into a blind rage. She remembered the screams of pure terror from the witches, the blood that splattered all over her frame. Asma didn't know how long she stayed with the two witches, but she did remember taking her time killing them. She gave them a slow and painful death, throwing at them her frustrations, her pain, and her anger all at once. The memory almost made the witch throw up and she put her glass on the counter. It was awful, as a matter of fact, she did catch a glimpse of the gruesome scenes before her and the nasty satisfaction she felt upon seeing her carnage. 

They deserved it! All of them! They didn't know how it felt to have her curse! they didn't know how awful the solitude was, the betrayal, the constant fear of being exposed and hunted down. Asma had always looked behind her shoulders, always covered her tracks -or at least, tried to but her enemies proved to be relentless. she learned the hard way to always be cautious, especially in a monster hub like Mystic Falls. Still, she was sick to her stomach upon her memories. It felt as if she could smell and taste the blood that was on her face. It felt as if she could hear the pleas and screams of agony and her whole body was shaking from the inside. Shame should have been the emotion she would be feeling right now. When she was in her right mind, Asma felt ashamed for her past deeds...for her bloodlust and for the sadistic joy she had when she avenged herself on those who wanted to kill her. 

A tit for tat, after all, wasn't it? A tit for... she frantically searched for her money and threw it on the counter before she ran away from the bar. Her heart started to beat faster as she was uncomfortable and it was so overwhelming that she didn't notice when she bumped against Stefan. The Salvatore brother furrowed his brows and put his large hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asked, concerned about the witch. He instantly recognized her, mostly because not so many people in the small town of Mystic Falls had this type of hair color. There weren't many who would wear sunglasses at night either, so he recognized Asma. "Asma?"

"Stefan... I... I'm alright. Don't worry about me. I was just in a hurry."

"Anything I can help you with?" -He genuinely asked. She looked panicked as if she was running away from something. Since she was a witch, he suspected it was either a vampire or a werewolf but Asma was still shielding herself from Elena's friends and loved ones. He felt the reluctance of the witch to answer and released her shoulder. "If you need anything, Asma, you can come to our manor. You've always been helpful to Elena, Caroline and Bonnie. You also have helped my brother on several occasions. I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything. I chose to help, and I am glad it worked. I... Stefan... I have to go." -She begged him. her voice was shaking and he noticed her shivers and goosebumps. She was terrified, yet, he moved away so she could leave. 

"I insist. If you need help, please call me." -He said as she started to brisk walk away.- "Think about it!" -He said a little bit louder before he turned around and kept walking- 

She heard him loud and clear. She knew Stefan was actually a good soul trying to do the right thing and make amends for the days he was the Ripper. He didn't know her but he knew she was helping those he loved and that was enough for him. She heard him loud and clear and yet, her memories screamed louder than his voice. Her worries about Klaus' unfinished business forced her to consider what he was trying to do. His absence was stressful to her, mostly because she didn't know where he was and when he would be back. 

If he would be back. 

-    TBC-

GoT: regular "A fighter"

A/N: I miss them. I miss regular GoT as well but here is a little glimpse of the princess' thoughts.

XXXX

The Red Keep was strangely quiet at night. Bäahal enjoyed the quasi-silence that had settled in the empty hallways of the castle. She took a liking to walk for a couple hours at night, visiting places she already knew like the Throne room or the War room. Those long walks allowed for the princess to think her life through and enjoy the silence of the place to reflect on the most recent decisions she had to make or would have to make in the near future. the princess had accepted that she would have to hide in the Red Keep and make sure that very few people saw her alive, in order to keep the rumors of her supposed Death still running. She accepted that she would have to let Jaime leave the Red Keep to investigate a Lord she suspected was responsible for her attack. She had accepted that there was a chance, Daenerys didn't accept her union to the knight and even if she did, plenty of people would not. Loving Jaime was not a walk-in garden. It wasn't going to be easy. The Lannisters (especially Jaime), had the bad habit of making enemies out of everyone and the whole seven kingdoms had someone vindictive enough to try and kill the Knight and those around him. Anyone, Jaime included, told her that it would be risky for her to enter an official relationship... let alone have his children. But she was stubborn. She persisted. She loved him. 

She also liked going downstairs, where she could find what once was considered the remains of the last great dragon.  There she could mourn for a while her fallen dragon. She could remember the moments spent together and the bond these two shared. He did choose her and the two of them bonded in a way no other could do. She would talk to the gigantic skull about the life she managed to live without him. She would talk about the death of the Night King and the Victory of his mother on Cersei. She would talk about her growing feelings for Jaime Lannister and the fact she became an Ambassador for Daenerys once she was crowned a queen. She opened her heart about the joy she felt upon finding Jaime alive months later and the heartbreak he gave him when he rejected her feelings for him. She spoke of the betrayal of those she considered her friends and the siege that followed which nearly took her life. She spoke of Jaime confessing his love to her and their first night sleeping next to each other. She spoke of the heartbreak and fear of having her sister reject her union to the knight and her pleas to the gods. Vyserion knew everything, despite not being alive anymore. It soothed the princess' heart to talk to her best friend, to let him know that she was doing alright, and to let him know that her life didn't stop at his death. If anything, it helped her life even more. Yes, he did!

Oh, by the seven gods! that was quite a life. Bäahal realized that she'd been through a lot in her life. From the circumstances of her birth to the death of her mother. From the years as a slave and the abuse at the hands of her masters, to become Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. From an orphan without a family left, to someone who had a nephew and a sister still alive. She had lost a lot but managed to maintain a soft heart. She had lost a lot... yet she was alive, more than ever. She fought so hard to survive and protect those she loved. She learned to take on responsibilities she had no idea of and managed to do it with grace, poise, and success (relative success). With the whirlwind that had been her life lately, the princess had no time to think of her mother, until that quiet night. Would she be proud of her? Bäahal chose to think so. Her mother Sunni, always told her daughter that there was pride in fighting for one's life. It might be a losing fight, but the heart would be at peace knowing it had tried everything in its power to be set free. That was why she didn't beg for pardon when she was caught trying to smuggle her daughter out of slavery. That was why she told her daughter that she was at peace and content because she had tried everything to get her out of this miserable life. That was why, she wasn't ashamed of her scars or branding, because she knew that she fought hard against those who tortured her.  Bäahal did the same. Bäahal was a fighter. She realized as she spoke to the skull, that she always fought for her life and today was no different than before.

Today she was free. Today she was a princess. Today she was an accomplished warrior who not only participated but also won two major wars but who also was the champion of the people she defended during the siege. Today, she was finally in love with another man, trusting him enough to give him her heart to protect. She would -If the gods were favoring her- know what it was like to make love to a man. She would know what true pleasure was and how love was transformative. Today, she was a kind woman, despite all the traumatic experiences she's been through, despite the anger, the pain, the loss, Bäahal was able to keep a kind and loving heart. She was able to try and perpetuate her mother's teachings. In a way, Today was proof that her mind had not been broken by those who tried to tear it apart. Her masters lost in more than one way. Her masters didn't snuff the light inside her, instead, it burned brighter. Her mother... Oh... Her mother would probably encourage her. She would be proud of her choices, regardless of how controversial those might be. She would have approved of Jaime because she would judge him on the content of his heart and his heart was... His heart was the heart of a man who was ready and willing to do anything for those he loved. 

-TBC-

Chronicles of the Primeval gods: Life of Elpis - Praises

 A/N: It had been a while since I heard from them. Here you are. 

XXXX

"Beloved..."

Her voice was a whisper. A soft voice pierced through the silence of the hotel room. He watched from afar, enjoying the sight before him, sat on his leather chair with a glass of bourbon in his hand. She was minding her own business, getting herself ready for bed, and arranging her massive pink curtain of silky hair into a loose high-bun. The night had been exquisite, with them teasing each other like in Vancouver, using humans as pawns dedicated to their entertainment. It was a night full of debauchery and blood. It was a night like he loved them, where his Light was behaving without restraints. How glorious that was, to watch her explore her powers without the limitations imposed by her family! How arousing it was for the sin, to witness such chaos created by their mixed influence on those puny humans! Her joy was contagious and her curiosity was even more rewarding for the King of the Underworld, especially when it came to the weapon he had forged for her. 

"Speak, my Light." -He encouraged her before taking another sip of his drink.-

"I have no worries to speak of, beloved. However, I do have praises."

Oh! Praises! Pride loved compliments. He loved being worshipped and loved even more when he was being praised. She always knew what to say and the way she said those words could either make him smile or turn him on. He let his blue eyes travel from her face to the curve of her ass and a smirk crept on his lips as he appreciated the sight before him. Her body was wrapped in a silky blue bathrobe that clung to her curves. he could guess she had nothing underneath the fabric, which let his eyes flicker from blue to purple. She turned on her seat and his eyes followed the curve of her gracile neck. her golden irises stared at him, glowing slightly as she was excited to say her piece.  she studied his face, looking for a sign of approval from the Sin before she could continue. 

"Go ahead, Elpis. I am all ears." -He grunted and bent a little forward, this time his attention was focused on her perfect face. He put his glass of bourbon on the little desk next to him and laid his forearms on his lap. That made the goddess slightly bite her bottom lip and clear her throat with a light cough.-

"You're making it difficult, beloved..." -Elpis teased him before she shrugged and smiled at him- "I will start with the obvious. Tonight was excellent! I could have never imagined it before I got cursed. It was intense, playful, gruesome. humans were nothing but putty in our hands and we orchestrated something chaotic yet meaningful." -She nodded at her own words as if to drive home the excitement she felt over their game of influence over humans.-

"Oh yeah?" -Bingo! she chose the perfect words, as always. He couldn't help but wanted to hear more from her. His eyes were still flickering between blue and purple but his aura was slowly invading the space and increasing the pressure on the goddess. Elpis felt it, she always felt when her Sin was feeling intensely something. She felt and responded in kind. She knew he was pleased, and the intensity of him was slowly starting to arouse her too-

"Yes, beloved. Meaningful. We were meant to each other. I am light and you are darkness. I am Hope incarnate, and you are Despair. I am Heaven and you are Hell! Perfection together. Don't you think so?" -Rhetorical question. He nodded, allowing her to continue.- "I feel connected with you in ways I couldn't imagine before. I am happy to see we do understand each other and we do complement each other. I feel like myself, I feel free." -She grinned and turned around so she could completely face him.- "I grew more powerful thanks to you and your influence. I can feel it right now, your aura, your essence, pressuring me...overwhelming me." -She rolled her head and massaged her neck.- "I have always been drawn to it. your power... your class.. your perfection." 

He watched intently now, barely breathing as he didn't want to miss a bit of her display. Pride had picked up the arousal in her words. he could feel the electricity in the air, the heat from between her legs, and his eyes traveled from her tempting curves to the perfection of her face. Those eyes, her eyes were glowing a little harder and that was the cue he needed to fully turn his eyes purple. Her ebony hands were running over the bright silky fabric of her bathrobe, as she was rubbing her shoulders and collarbones. her skin was covered in goosebumps, for she enjoyed when his full attention was on her. She knew her words had an impact on him and she could tell his arousal was growing more and more intense. After all, she was playing with her neck and she knew just how much both had loved this little power play between them. his fingers twitched as he imagined them run over the soft skin of her gracile neck and that made him moisten his lips. 

"And that power grew over the millennia. You are now a king. The king of the Underworld. You have grown even more powerful than an actual god.. what was the saying again? you are what comes after the Gods, what should be worshipped and feared even more than the gods." 

She slowly spread her legs, keeping her modesty covered with the silky bathrobe and with her hands ingeniously placed in between her legs, pinning the fabric to the chair. Pride could feel his blood boil and his essence burn. she was rubbing him the right way, stroking his ego with his words and eliciting a groan from the sheer pleasure hearing her words gave him. she looked delicious from where he sat. flirting with him, turning him on with her words, looking like a feast. Any creature would have given into the goddess, but Pride was forcing himself to hold on a little more because he wanted to hear more from her. His little greed and ego demanded to be satisfied first before he could reward her as she deserved. 

"you remember it well. I /am/ what comes after the Gods. I am to be feared, and to be worshipped all the same." -He said, finally standing up, too impatient to wait until he could put his hands on her. The goddess grinned and straightened a little bit on the chair, allowing for the bathrobe to drop on her arms, exposing more of her neck, collarbone, and cleavage. 

"How could I forget, beloved? How could I, when your power leaves me in awe, in fear, in arousal? How could I, when I get to witness your glory in the mortal realm?" -He had reached out to her seat and allowed his hand to slowly stroke her soft cheek. the goddess smiled and leaned into his touch, her plump pink lips slightly opened and inviting. 

"You can't."

"I can't." -she repeated, shivering at his touch. his thumb brushed over her lips and avoided her attempts at capturing his digit between her lips.- "I don't want to. I enjoyed today with you. I enjoyed seeing you smile, seeing your eyes turn a deep shade of purple. I enjoyed seeing humans try to reach out to you, to seduce you, to beg you. I enjoyed seeing you covered in blood and guts. I enjoyed our combined energies working together, to push these creatures to their limits..."

"Do you want more?" -He asked in a whisper, his thumb finally allowed to be sucked by the goddess whose eyes were now turned into golden pools. She nodded, her voice muffled by his thumb-  "Good girl. You will have more. you will have all you desire, Elpis. I will give you this, the world, and much more. I will give you the universe." 

And he would give her the Universe. 

-TBC- 

Devotion

Devotion, exhaustion, Destruction.

She sucked the life out of me, begging, manipulating, crying, and forcing her way into my brain.

I couldn't think for myself, I had become a slave to her desires and decisions. I had become empty.

I didn't have the strength to fight her nor to find myself again. It became easier for me to give into her.

It became easier for me to let her walk me through the fire, tear my limbs apart, devour me. 

She devoured me, swallowed me whole, and threw me into an endless fall or dare I say, Limbos. 

Devotion, Exhaustion, Annihilation.

She considered us as commodities. I was nothing but a tool used to satisfy her ego.

I was nothing but a means for her to get what she wanted, what she truly desired.

She wanted to be free of us. She wanted to be free of me. She wanted a different life.

I swear I believe that if she could not have had me, she wouldn't have gotten pregnant.

If she could have given us for adoption, she would have done it. She wasn't meant for motherhood.

She wasn't meant for having a family because she was unable to give. She was unable to love. 

Devotion, Exhaustion, Transformation

She wanted to be the most important person in the whole world, she hated competition.

Yet, she still compared herself to others, even to her own children, even to me. 

She couldn't accept that we grew to become the people we wanted to be, with our dreams and desires.

She wanted dolls, puppets she could manipulate to do her bidding, not people! Not children.

She refused to change and refused to see what she did wrong and what she could change.

I transformed, we transformed and we set ourselves free from her, or at least we tried to do so.

We tried and we succeed but there would always be that part of us she could reach out to.

I guess that's how it is. How I hate it! 

She tried to swallow me whole. She tried to suffocate me with her overbearing ways and failed.

I told her that we break cycles and we no longer want to repeat what she did or has been through.

I told her that I would never be like her, and she said she would pray to never become like me.

I told her that I would never be HER! 

And I don't want to be. I don't want to be. I want to break free! 

And I will be! 

Doya: "Of All people."

A/N: I miss them

XXXX

Of all people they could have asked help from, Crowley was the last on Oya's list. She never liked him -Not only because he was the king of Hell.... but mostly because he was a conniving backstabbing bitch.- She still was scared of Demons and Hell and still had an irrational fear of them she couldn't overcome just yet.  She hated the whole situation with Pluto and couldn't hide it. Crowley was amused yet intrigued by this new companion of his "favorite" hunters. He was more focused on planning a potential escape in case Team Free Will's plan didn't work.

Of all people they could have asked help from, Rowena was just above Crowley. The hunter had a really hard time accepting that she would have to spend time with the mother of the king of Hell. Rowena could not be trusted and Oya was still salty over the witch's betrayal. She felt like a fool, for having trusted her in the first place and realizing that she should have known better. Dean convinced her that it was the right thing to do and come to think of it, Oya knew he was right. Pluto was no ordinary pagan god. He was calculating, collected, and far more patient than any of the other gods they have encountered in the past.

They couldn't do otherwise. They had to take their chances and gather all the allies they could have. Oya was still upset about the situation, so much so that she couldn't sleep well. she dreaded a potential betrayal and wanted to prepare herself the best she could. Dean watched her as she paced around in their motel room. He watched as she was restless and decided to stop her from going further down the rabbit hole. He stood up from his chair and put both hands on her shoulders, forcing Oya to look up to his face. 

"Now is the time you talk to me."

"I can't... Not now.." -She refused to speak and shook her head. Her massive black hair cascaded over her shoulders and onto the small of her back and she stared at his beautiful Emerald eyes.- "What? I said I couldn't talk about it now... Give me some time."- But he didn't listen. Instead, he cupped both cheeks of the smaller hunter and stroked her soft skin with his thumbs. She sighed and put both of her hands on his wrists-

"O. I know you're not doing alright. Something's on your chest." -She wanted to speak but he insisted- "Spit it out, Oya. I'm here." -That made her sigh and she dropped her head, looking at his chest instead of his face-

"....'" She nipped at her bottom lip and knitted her brows together. He could feel her hands hold onto his- "Dean... It's the same old same old... Do you really want us to talk about it?"

"Yeah, I do." -His jaw was tightly clenched and Oya could feel his gentle hold becoming a little stronger. He wanted her to look at him, so she looked up at his face. Her hazel eyes were bright, wet even from the unshed tears of frustration that had pooled there- "C'mon. Talk to me."

"Of all people, Dean... Of all people, we had to go and ask for Their help!" -She rolled her eyes and leaned her head against his right hand.- "It's driving me crazy to know we have to deal with those snakes. I don't trust them one bit. I know you don't either and you're prepared for their shit but... Of all people? They are the best we could have found?"

"The best we actually know of." -He wasn't judgemental. Instead, Dean was understanding. He knew that Oya was terrified. He knew what was at stake and he knew that she would come around if given the proper amount of time. They weren't going to experience annihilation simply because pagan gods were dependent on worship to exist. What they could lose, however, would be their freedom and the countless lives of sacrificial lambs.- "They're not perfect. We aren't perfect. We work with what we have and what we know. Rowena is the most powerful witch there is. She knows her ways around spells. She is vital in our plan to sever the ties between human worshippers and Pluto." -She rolled her eyes and sucked at her bottom lip before a shrug went through her spine. "O. Oya, look at me."

"Dean...I know for sure, that we can't trust Rowena or Crowley. It's not even a matter of ego. I can feel it, I know they are cooking something up. They could either work alone or together and we are blindsided." -She sighed and yanked her head back, looking once more at her partner's face. "It just feels as if we cut one head and another grows right back up. Can we even rest at this point?"

"You know we can't." -He smiled at her, bringing her frame against his taut one for a hug.- "You know damn well that we can't. That's the job, right? we fight monsters, we save people..."-He let his fingers run through her massive black locks and rested his chin against the top of her head.- "I know you don't agree with what we're doing but I need you to trust me on that."

"I trust /you/ I just don't trust / them./!! How could I, after all, we've been through? How could I, uh?" -She asked, her voice a little bit broken. She sighed again and wrapped her arms around Dean tighter. "I just want him dead. I just need him dead." She stroked his back. 

"I want that son of a bitch dead too, O. He shook you to the core, nearly took you from me and I can't forgive that. Bonus point, he's an asshole, so it's even easier this time."

"...... Of All people, Dean! Of all people!" -She shook her head in disbelief.-

 Yet, he had a point. There was a saying that said it was better to work with the devil you knew rather than one you didn't know.  They knew Rowena and Crowley and expected their betrayal. This time, she wouldn't be surprised, she would be ready. He chuckled lightly. They had unusual friends and unusual enemies. They couldn't expect anything less than outside the ordinary. Heck! Dean was Michael's vessel. So a chuckle escaped his lips and had the hunter look at him and chuckle with him. He kept laughing and she rolled her eyes and gently hit his chest. It was good. A burst of laughter was good all things considered. He gently pressed a kiss to her forehead and walked back to the bed. She followed him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She would be alright. 

-TBC-

Chronicles of the primeval gods: Life of Elpis - The greatest come back.

 (Elpis) 

How ironic it is that after they betrayed you, they now ask for forgiveness. They think they can destroy your very core, wipe you out of the collective memory and pretend that you never existed. How ironic it is that your own flesh and blood tried to ruin you, all because you refused to compromise and to obey. 

I lived bitch.

I survived and I am back in full force now. I couldn’t ve silenced, the whole universe remembers me now. The whole universe is aware of me now. The real me! The goddess who shed her old skin. The goddess who embraced herself, one that wasn’t manipulated into being submissive. One that wasn’t sealed and prevented from using her real potential. I got access to my untapped power and I am true! I am real! I am ME! 

Isn’t it funny, really, when no matter how hard your enemies try to shut you down, you keep coming back stronger, better, harder!

Witchy Hour: My Hybrid

 (Witchy hour) 

He tasted like bourbon and blood, mine.

He smelled like danger, he sounded like bliss.

He made me feel weak in the knee every time.

How I love when he calls me his witch. 

How I love when he growls those words. 

They carry little weight because of passion.

Those words were whispered at night,

Interspersed with pants, moans, and groans.

He doesn’t think when he says so, 

He doesn’t mean it, not when deep inside me.

However, I love it all the same. He sees me.

For someone who had been deprived of touch,

Oh, this feels like I won the jackpot. His witch! 

His witch! His delicious little witch! 

His powerful little witch changed things.

He tasted like power and anger, my Hybrid. 

My hybrid.

GoT 'regular': "I have many names"

 "I have so many names and titles: Princess of the Seven Kingdom, Sister of Daenerys I Targaryen. They call me Bäahal the Brave, Bäahal the Saint, Bäahal the Stubborn, Bäahal the Hidden, The Jewel of Astapor, The hero of the Long Night, The Champion of the Last War, The saint of the Small Town Siege...So many titles that certainly mean something. 

They certainly meant something to those calling me all these names. I was true, a thing to my masters, a beautiful jewel to possess and to use at their will. I wasn't even a person. I lost my mother because she tried to help me escape this Hell. I lost my friends because they tried to dream of a better life and tried to run away. I bought my time, killing instead of being violated. I spilled the blood of other people instead of bleeding myself. I broke free but I felt empty. 

They certainly meant something to those who witnessed my victories. I found my long-lost sister, found a family... found my freedom and dignity. I was made whole again. I was walking towards a better life and for me, I was just myself. I was just Bäahal.  I learned more about myself ever since I became a princess. I realized I was far more sentimental than I expected. I am a storm of emotions, the definition of stubborn, loyal and loving. I am just a woman, a multi-faceted one who has a strong appetite for life. 

And I love you, Jaime. And All of this, all of who I am loves all of who you are. With your mistakes, your good judgment, your wits, the good things you did, and the loss you suffered. I love you and I want you to know that I will always fight for you. I will always fight for us."

GoT: Longing lover

 "I am enjoying life in ways I never thought I would. You made me a believer again. 

I want to show you the world. I want to share your life. I just...It just feels so right to be by your side. 

I might be asking too much. Perhaps it's not the right moment. Perhaps it would never be. I am just hoping for a day where we would see each other in the light. I long for the day where we would have "our time" at "our place". 

I long for a life with you. I fell head over heels for you. Bite me! it's just the truth and I am dying to tell you."

DOya : Exhaustion

 

DOya : Exhaustion

 

A/N : Sometimes a girl just has enough of her job. Sometimes she’s just exhausted.

 

Xxxx

 

Oya looked at her phone. Since they arrived at the motel, she hadn’t had a restful night. The investigation was taking longer than she first expected and despite the excitement over the case, something wasn’t right. Something didn’t feel right, and she couldn’t put her finger on what. Instead, Oya had been cranky all day, to Dean’s annoyance. She was focused on the job, but she wasn’t there. There was a dread he couldn’t explain that was lingering in her head. She was sitting on the chair of the motel room, arms wrapped around her left knee. Her hair was loosely braided and tossed to the side. She was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. Her eyes were tired, she was tired, and her body bore the marks of exhaustion.

 

Her gaze averted from the phone to Dean who was looking through the pages of the newspapers he bought that day. He furrowed his brows, feeling an intense gaze upon him. He stopped reading a looked at Oya who was sitting in silence. Oya wasn’t the silent type. Dean knew her long enough to notice when something was up. He had an idea of what could possibly upset his girl. It was either the collaboration with Rowena and Crowley to stop Pluto, or Pluto himself, or eventually the fact Joshua had been crippled by his last case. Dean knew that Oya was dreading facing the old god again. He knew she was scared of losing him because he would be reckless and he knew that on top of everything else, she was missing her family.

 

It could have been this, or that or everything at once for all he knew, but Dean didn’t need to push Oya to talk. She wouldn’t talk unless she chose to. Now was the moment for simple comfort. He  put the newspaper on the table and cleared his throat, forcing Oya to focus her attention on him. He moved his fingers, asking her to come closer and she did without complaint. She stood up and walked towards him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and slowly sat on his lap. He didn’t know it yet, but later on she would tell him. She would tell him about her bruises. She would tell him about the bad performances during this case. She would tell him that she had to think of after. That her near-death brought her age and how wore down her body was after all these years. She simply was exhausted of everything, including the hunt.

 

But she wasn’t tired of him.

Never ever would be.

 

-TBC-

DOYA: His girl

 "He calls me cutie. He calls me shorty. He knows I'm cheeky. He knows I kick ass. I guess he doesn't mind his girl having all the flavours otherwise we wouldn't even be a thing. He knows this life is THAT BITCH SHOW (me, I'm the bitch here! self-proclaimed!) and I run it as I see fit.

He calls me cutie. He calls me O. He calls me Bitch just like I call him Dickhead. He says I'm his and the scratches on his back say He's mine. I guess that's what it is. It's ride or die. I guess he doedsn't mind having a girl with all the flavours. He understands me, I understand him, you see? it's ride or die.

Our business is hunting monsters, saving people. We put our lives on the line every single day and except for the victims, nobody knows. Ungrateful work. Dreadful task... it's a burden but also a calling. We chose it. we live through it. We bleed for the World in order to keep it safe.

He calls me softie. I call him goofy. We're both nerdy, we're both needy. we watch each other's back. We save each other's ass. We make sure we're satisfied and happy when we go to bed together. I'm hooked! I'm obsessed! I'm in love. We don't say the words in this house! we don't believe in them. we show it instead and it works for me. Chuck knows it does.

He calls me cutie. I call him handsome.

He means the world to me. He literally makes it worth saving.

And in all this dark and gloom, there is us. There is life.

I devour it as if it was my last meal. I live my life. I fuck my life.

I fuck him too. I love him too. I need him too. I'm his.

yes! I'm his! Periodt!"