like beasts

anna greyrooke || 32 || fauna || queen of arella ( x )

aoife ó corra || 31 || fauna || brothel owner ( x )

audrhildr svanhild || 21 || beast folk || warrior-in-training ( x )

eir kjellsdóttir || 29 || fauna || thief/robin hood ( x )

“mara, darling,” aoife starts as she practically bursts into the room.  she know she likely looks a mess- hair flying everywhere, cheeks flushed, and breathless- but also knows her love wouldn’t mind.  young ragnar has been running her absolutely ragged today.

                          don’t adventures ever have an end? i suppose not. someone else always has to carry on the story.

✧･ﾟ: * ( cis woman / she/her / emilia clarke ) — welcome, [ AOIFE Ó CORRA ] of [ ETILLE ]. when the doom hit, you were [ BLESSED ] to be a [ FAUNA ]. now that the doom is over, you are [ THIRTY ONE ] and working as a [ BROTHEL OWNER ]. rumors have been whispered around court that you are [ SWEET ] and [ EASILY UPSET ].

TW: EMOTIONAL ABUSE

“WOULD YOU LIKE HELP?” he asked out of the kindness of his heart, a hulking, gentle giant. then again, how could one help being giant with the queen?

“I AM STEN. STEN LUND. I’M A HUNTER. OFTEN TRAVELING. OFTEN WANDERING. THOUGH, I AM CHOOSING TO STAY IN ARELLA FOR THE TIME BEING.” he reaches for the loaves of bread, and he begins to hand out to the people surrounding the queen. 

“YOU’VE… A BEAUTY ABOUT YOU. COULD KNOCK A MAN OFF HIS FEET. IF I MAY BE SO BOLD.”

“oh!  help would be lovely, thank you,” she replies, handing over some loaves for him to hand out with her.  there’s something about him that reminds her of faust, when they first met, and anna smiles to herself.  maybe the two should meet...after she cures her husband of what haunts him.

he gently taps her chin and kisses the top of her head. “DON’T APOLOGIZE. I CAN GET MORE BRANDY, DEAR.”

as his hands unbraid her hair, he picks dirty and larger pieces out of her hair. “I WAS. FOR A WHILE. I GOT OVER IT WHEN YOU ACTUALLY LEFT, AND I WAS SITTING HERE ALONE, WISHING YOU AND GWYN WERE HERE. IF I WERE A STRONGER MAN, I WOULD NOT BE ON THE BRINK OF TEARS,” he whispers. his voice wavers now, uncertain and soft. “IF I WERE STRONGER, I WOULD BE ABLE TO WITHSTAND THE FEAR THAT GRIPPED ME.”

he reaches to still her hands and turns her face towards his. his eyes are misty as he kisses her forehead. “I AM HAPPY YOU AND GWYN ARE HOME.”

she’s not sure what words she can put to the feeling that overtakes her when he kisses the top of her head.  her mother...well, her mother had never been particularly gentle.  even less so if she’d broken or spilled something fancy, on the very rare occasions her mother had given her anything.  you have to learn how to deal without nice things, she’d been told.  nothing nice lasts for very long.  

and even as his voice wavers with uncertainty, audr struggles to believe him.  the care grigor is giving her, the worry, the gentle touch of his hands as he stills hers and the (dare she say it?) fatherly kiss to her forehead, all of it, it’s- it’s so foreign, and yet her heart aches for it.  is this what it is to have a father?

“acorns are best shared with friends- eat it!” she insisted, pushing the bowl even further towards him. “it is warm and tasty and full of good nutrients.” she’d overheard the inn keeper claiming their stew was full of nutrients and even though she wasn’t a hundred percent sure what it meant, she was certain her stew was full of it. “and you are not broken- i see all your limbs and they move and you breathe. so not broken. maybe too skinny, but…” she made an exaggerated expression as she nodded to the bowl. “ah- i am tove!”

he watches her as she takes the glass. her sip is bigger than he expected her to take, and when she coughs it up, he pats her back and drinks his own with his other hand. he tries not to laugh too hard, but he does, still.

“WHAT A WASTE OF GOOD BRANDY.” he reaches up to run his fingers through her hair, sitting his brandy down to begin and unbraid the white gold locks. “LET’S TAKE THESE OUT. THEY’LL MAT IF WE’RE NOT CAREFUL.” it’ll help when she bathes too. “I ALWAYS WISHED I’D HAD A DAUGHTER TOO. WHEN YEVA, MY EX WIFE, TOLD ME SHE WAS WITH CHILD, I LEARNED HOW TO BRAID HAIR JUST IN CASE THEY WERE A GIRL. STILL CAME IN HANDY SINCE GWYN HAS ALWAYS LIKED HIS HAIR LONG.” he snorts.

“STILL, IT’S GOOD TO KNOW MY SKILLS CAN BE PUT TO USE NOW.”

her cheeks flush in embarrassment at the good-natured teasing, but the joking is making her feel a little more human.  a little more herself.  his hand is warm as he pats her back, and she finds herself swaying a little towards him again.

“sorry,” she mumbles, even as she takes another sip.  smaller this time, of course.  it went down easier that way.  

“TIME. YOU’LL SEE IT FOR SOME TIME, BUT EVENTUALLY, THE VISIONS WILL LESSEN. YOU’LL BE ABLE TO SLEEP SOON. FOR NOW, I’LL WATCH OVER YOU. ME AND GWYN. I PROMISE.”

he lets her cling, instinct to protect her making him angry about the war gain. it was senseless, this fighting. someone ought to do something about it. 

then again, he was in the business of dealing war. would he give up his wealth to protect those he cared for?

yes. yes, he would. 

“I’M HERE FOR YOU. NO MATTER WHAT. COME. BRANDY AND A BATH.” he calls one of the servants he’d hired while they had been away to make a bath. she responds quickly, and he smiles before guiding her to his study where he pours them both a big glass of alcohol. it’s stout, but it’ll help.

“HERE. DRINK THIS. SLOWLY AT FIRST AND THEN ALL AT ONCE”

her lips tremble at the thought of seeing for however long, eyes burning.  the only thing that comforts her is the idea that he and gwyn- and surely even llyr, lucia, the sad bard...with them she is safe.  safe.  safe.  she’s so tired.  

she follows his guidance to the study, taking the glass and looking up at him a little nervously.  a quick sniff makes her eyes water, but surely grigor wouldn’t poison her?  slowly, and then all at once.  audr raises the glass to her lips, closing her eyes before taking a big sip.

he had already hugged gwyn when he’d returned, the affection genuine between the father and son. now, it was for her. audr. the girl who’d grown on him like a tumor. the way she rasps out her words makes him want to weep for the girl. he’d sworn he’d be cold upon her return. and yet.

“YOU ARE,” he replies. “YOU SURVIVED. YOU CAME BACK, AND YOU ARE SAFE NOW.” he kisses the top of her head, affectionate with the girl that had become like a daughter to him. “LET US GET YOU A NICE BATH RUNNING. I WILL MAKE YOU TEA. OR A BRANDY MIGHT BE THE BETTER OPTION.” best to start her drinking now. war was no child’s matter.

“i am?” she repeats, words feeling like she had to reach deep into her core and drag them free with clawed, desperate hands.  she closes her eyes when he kisses the top of her head.  there’s a flash of bone and blood and war and death.  her breath catches, and she opens her eyes again.  

the opening of the tent captures magnus’ attention and he cocks a brow, looking up through long eyelashes at the man who enters. he had a vague idea of what to expect seeing as he’s met many bards and merry men in his time, but for some reason this one seems different. blithering and awkward, an innocent charm about him which is unlike the usual cocky demeanour he was expecting. it’s probably for the best, if they were both as egotistical as one another the tent would not be large enough to fit their heads.

magnus chuckles at the way the bard blushes, sitting up to swing his legs over the side of the cot. “i would not have asked you to join me if i wanted you to leave, would i?” he asks, bemused. “they say your name is milosz. so tell me milosz,” he stands to approach the bard, large hands running through his messy curls. “do you always come so readily on demand?” oh how he loves to make the weak ones squirm.

damn him, miłosz can’t tear his eyes away from magnus’ broad, well-muscled chest as the man moves.  before he realizes, the other man is standing, moving towards him, and it’s a struggle to keep from scrambling in the most ungainly way to keep space between them.  he shouldn’t be reacting like this, damn it- he’s a bard.  he’s expected to be smooth.  suave.  “well, n- no, but i-” he stammers, closing his mouth and looking up at magnus with what some had called his doe eyes.

          “i mean- not really? i don’t know you.” she shrugged and held out the bowl. “and i’m not sick, i just ate a rock when i was a kid and now my voice is just scratchy.” she still had the milk teeth that had fallen out hanging from the leather thong around her neck to prove it. “and its good soup! its got acorns that munin brought me,” she gave the crow in question a little scratch under the chin. “and mushrooms that i found behind that tavern, and these little herbs that i gathered while traveling- and some mushed up beetles that are really good protein. i even added some of my rock salt. figured since im in the big city, i can find salt more easy.” she clicked her tongue, pride coloring every word. “some of my best work.”

he stayed in her arms, the darkness he’d felt earlier tingling under his skin. he looked into her eyes as she cupped his cheeks. fear gripped him. it gripped him tight.

“WE’LL SORT THIS. OR… OR I’LL SORT THIS,” he breathed, fully aware of what he meant. he knew if he could not control himself, he would have to find a way to stop whatever darkness gripped him.

he leans into her touch, wrapping his arms around her as he can. he squeezes her tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tried to comprehend what had happened. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT WAS. SOMETHING IS TERRIBLY WRONG, ANNA.”

he wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he was sure if whatever it was had harmed anna, it was no good. “IT STARTED AFTER I KILLED THE HILAKI GENERAL. I THINK IT’S… I THINK SOMETHING’S IN ME.” 

he wasn’t sure how else to say it, but he looked up at her and cupped her cheeks. “I AM SO SORRY. I HURT YOU, AND YOU DO NOT HAVE TO FORGIVE ME ANY TIME SOON.”

he does not let up, his face going red from the effort to kill her. whatever has control of faustus will not let go. her nails dig into his skin, but he ignores the pain, shouting as his rage and anger darkened the room. 

as the vines wrapped around his body, the parts that touched him turned black from faust’s own dark magic. he released her throat, ripping the vines off of his body, but they only multiplied and wrapped around him until his eyes began to clear. anna’s magic began to brighten the tone of his pale skin. 

he went limp in the vines, and he sank to his knees. “GODS, WHAT HAVE I DONE?” he whispers, hands trembling as he looks up at anna who stands against the wall, bruised and appearing frightened of him. gods, he had hurt her. his body had hurt her. it had been his hands hurting her.

“ANNA, GODS. GODS FORGIVE ME, I— I DON’T KNOW WHAT CAME OVER ME. IT WAS LIKE… IT WAS LIKE I WAS COVERED IN A CLOUD OF DARKNESS.”

she can’t tell if its his magic darkening the room or if her vision is fading as he yells, still cutting off her air.  for a brief moment that feels far too long, his magic clashes with her, almost overwhelming her as her connection to the vines burns and sparks with pain.  she cannot scream, not with his hand gripping her throat, so all she can do is continue to use the vines to pull at him.

anna barely gets a breath in before he’s tearing at the vines, and she has to sever her connection with them after a while, knees threatening to buckle as she fights to remember he’s not tearing her apart.  the sudden absence of pain echoes through her body and makes her stomach churn, but through her tears she can see her husband fall to his knees.  through her gasps for air she can hear him begging for forgiveness.  and even though he’d just hurt her so deeply, she can’t help but fall to her knees in front of him and fall into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as she sobs.  “you scared me,” she cries, hiding her face in his neck.  he’d always been her rock.  her husband.  reaching to him was a habit now, ingrained in her too deeply to break free from.