Rolling_Storm

The realm seen before new and unsullied eyes could be one of wonder and spectacle, with stories of knights and dragons.  Wolves taller than stones and stones greater than a castle or sept, it could truly be the world of wonders and dreams, as if gods and magic had made this land of golden fibres, seas of lapis, and emerald trees.  And alone in the Giant's palm, where the emeralds parted, and the sun spun of gold beamed down into the clearing below, peace could be found.

Blades of grass laughed as the wind blew fast and crisp, the dirt and rock piling higher still- in clumps and mounds, and the love of two echoed and filled the clearing with complexity.  

“This is how it should be…” 

One voice insisted as the wind carried on the others, “We could make it this way.” 

“We will.”

And as if the realm were alive with life, a quiet gurgle came from the wind, the dirt hardened and smoothed, the grass curled and coiled, and with the kiss of the sun turned gold.  The small held breath of the forest took its first ever one, tiny hands and louder laughs filled the Giant's palm, and for once, the realm was gifted again.  

The Day Valarr comes to you, he is not himself.

The sky smells of flame and the ground of blood and tears as the hands of dying men extend to the sky in hopes of something greater, or perhaps the mercy of something worse to come.  You stand amongst them, in damaged armour and a helm half gone.  A sword in hand, as your other flexed in readiness for another round, as the boy ahead steadied himself.  His horse is fleeing, and your brown mare is looming elsewhere on the ash-burnt field.  

“A small skirmish barely worth the time,” his grandfather told him.  “Good experience”, his brother said without much care.

Now standing amongst dying men and a man not keen on dying, Valarr gripped his shield tighter despite the pain in his side.  A true pain that made the blood rush to his ears and his heart beat with a steady fear.  That tunnelled his vision into a fury of disfoucs that none thought the diplomatic prince possessed.

The helm of his opponent may have been in pieces, but the blood on his? Face was nothing compared to the wound he? had inflicted upon him.  Upon him by his own sword.  

No one could say who reengaged first, as both forms charged ahead at each other and clashed in the middle.  Sword and Shield in a lock and determined fury.  With each swing of Valyrian steel you brought down, it was met with equal shield.  Unrelenting and growing as each stroke brought the boy back, knees buckling and arms tiring with each downward strike.  His guard was breaking, but the shield met each blow.  

Screams of fury and wild eyes.

Coiled hair and a bloodied face as the final pieces of your helm fell away, splattered and moved with you.  A visage of strength.

And with each glimpse of you from behind his shield, your face burned.  Burned into the Prince’s memory.  How you screamed with each strike, teeth bared, and eyes focused.  How the sword, too heavy for a normal woman, seemed like a small needle in your hands.  

Valarr wouldn’t forget it.  He wouldn’t forget you.

In the shaking nights, he arose from slumber with your face in his dreams, the shriek of his horse when it startled, nor the healing puncture in his side.  He was reminded of you constantly.

What would he say when the Maesters hurried over his weary form? What would he tell his father of Great Brickepear as he cried over his son's medicine bed?

Each time another battle came, or another small clash came about, the prince would ask, ask of a knight in smaller armour, or if a woman with coiled hair was seen nearby after each conflict.  Ignoring the eyes of his family and the curious eyes of council men.  

The moons that followed his recovery, Valarr did not dare don his armour nor wield his sword again.  The blood still dried upon it, and the brand of your hands still fresh on the hilt as he stared at it.  Ghosting his fingers were it pierced his flesh, then the handle, which he should have held tighter.  

“Was it really a woman?” Breakspear whispered from his place on the couch of his son’s chambers.  Deceptively relaxed with a leaned back posture.  Though the growing grey hairs, tear-stained eyes, and roating of one of his rings betrayed his otherwise outwardly calm demeanour.  

“I’m certain of it.”

The prince replayed the dark day every night in his sleep and could still see your face clear as day.  How the dark sky parted for just a moment behind your head to illuminate you as if the halo of life grew behind you.  And how it guided your will down with each crushing blow.  He could not forget you.

“I see her every night,” voice still weary and weak from night terrors as Valarr stared harder at his sword.  “I feel her even now…”

Even with the wound healed and closed.

Baelor looked at his son.  At his first babe, who now seemed smaller than that.  And how he, with the power of the realm and men, could do nothing to aid his boy, his baby.

Moons had passed and the seasons changed with them, but the haunting did not stop.  Even as Valarr physically healed, Baelor watched him stagnate.  Quieter and more weary with sleep, as dark circles gained more hoops.

How many more nights will he find his eldest curled in the bed with his youngest when the night became to dark?  Darkness brought him here to keep the boy company again as they stayed up late to avoid the terror of the dream.  

“There is a story of a man who gave his life to find peace in vengeance,”  Baelor began as he rose from the couch and walked over to his son.

Side by side, he looked to the small boy whose eyes bore into the cold steel, “Only to realise his death had already begun and happened the moment he chose it.”

With firm hands, Baelor brought his son to face him, jewelled fingers wiping away any stray tears that fell from brown and lavender eyes.  Holding his soft face with an uncertain hold that, if too tight, could hurt or cause his babe to disappear entirely from his world.

Those tear-filled eyes did not meet their giver’s own as Valarr stared at the floor instead.

With a deep breath, the elder heir searched for what to say, what to reveal, and what to shudder away.

“The hauntings never stop, never go away, nor fully yield.  But with time, they become less and less powerful till they only bother when your mind remembers them, if ever at all.”

Looking to the sword, Baelor gave a weary frown before turning his gaze back to the smaller heir.

Valarr’s eyes focused on him this time, “I don’t think I’ll ever forget her…”

The night continued slowly and quietly from there on and further on afterwards until Valarr stopped needing anyone else altogether.  Baelor need not keep him company when sleep ran from him, nor Matarys to help soothe him to sleep when awoken in shakes and sweats.

Maybe it had been an additional year and six moons, when spring was in full bloom with the rainy showers to help the world grow.  A knight, hopefully, soon.  His named on the lists as a tourney was thrown in addition to the spring festival.  He was stronger now and in far better spirits as the time passed.  Ever busy, but the spring festival was a welcome work distraction as he fixed his armour quietly.  

A deep inhale, then a slow exhale.  Again, again, and again till his nerves calmed to a more comfortable pace.

He’d be jousting in the final round after hours of work and effort; it’d be over.  Having beaten his cousin Aerion earlier in the day, there was only one other person who seemed to be of interest.  An unnamed boy who rode in modest armour and gave no other element to the crowd.  Even if Valarr spent his time resting and not competing, the mysterious newcomer was an intrigued favourite as the horn bellowed at the start of a round.  Valarr could hear the way the crowd cheered for him, but settled upon his horse, the prince felt nothing but a cold dread.  

Staring at the brown mare, Valarr lost his voice at the sight of the creature.  The black hooves and tightly braided mane and tail, the scar on the horse’s mouth and the little cluster on its leg.  He’d seen it, that same horse, once before.

The horn sounded, and thoughts of what could be faded as he charged forward.

Forward and forward again until the crowd held with uncertainty as each round passed and passed again.  As if the world held its breath as each rider remained mounted despite dented armour and certainly bruised bodies.

Four times it had been, and despite the pain, you felt your breath remain calm and focused, still ahead on what was to come.  Twirling the long lance as the new round was being prepared, the crowd was quiet, and spectators were on the edge of their seats.  Even the highborn lords and ladies watched intently, the royal family following suit.

The horns sounded, and the crowd leaned forward further till a gasp erupted from them and then cheers.  Alive with life and chatter, with a few sighs of relief from the royal box.

Picking yourself up from the ground with a grunt, you looked towards the crowd as strings of flowers were thrown, a few still in your direction, but the wave thrown towards the winner.  Valarr didn’t look to the flowers and loud cheers; he looked to you and then stood with you.  

Taking your hand with a firm shake as you stood amongst the growing pile of cheers and flowers.

When the crowds left, and the armour came from his skin, Valarr searched quickly amongst the stalls.  Taking in the stock of your brown mare and in quick search of the mysterious challenger.  With all the candles quiet and the tourney cleared, the prince had nearly given up hope, his legs tiring as they carried him further and further still.

Until the small flicker of light farther from the other tents caught his attention.  Pulling him closer and closer still till he stood just outside.  A nervous sweat on his brow and a lump in his throat as he heard the clanking of armour inside.  

Peering through the slit in the fabric till you came into view.  Tiny slivers of your coiled hair and plain shirt as you worked to pack your gear.  

Valarr stood there. Stood for however long before a shriek came from him at the feeling of a cold nose on his skin.  Stumbling back into a brown mare and then to the ground as the tent flap was thrown open.

And there you stood with sword in hand and eyes flickering wild over the landscape before landing on the stumbling prince before you.

And while he struggled with apologies and to stop slipping under his own feet, you stood and just stared as he resigned himself to the ground.  “Sorry, I was, I didn’t mean to shout,” he stuttered out as an embarrassed flush ran up to his face.

Rambling on until your hand extended to him with a soft smile.  

“You fought well, too,” you congratulated as you helped him to his feet, slightly taller than him now, standing so close.  “You’ll make a good knight one day”, taking a step back towards your tent. 

You cut and filled in the awkwardness that Valarr would have surely continued if not otherwise done, “thank you, it means a lot considering how tough the competition was”.

A beat passed before he clapped his hands together, then rubbed the dirt from his hands.  “You fell on purpose. I wanted to say you did not need to,” his voice steadier and voice cleared with a cough.  “Then you know there is at least one person truly able to best you,” your voice light despite the edge that perhaps could’ve been there.  

Valarr knew it, could sense it in the unsaid.  If it were in full truth, he had always known, since the day you bested him those years ago.  There was always you.  And in the frame of friendly competition and a gentle private congratulations, you seemed nearly human.  Not the figure from his nightmares that seemed to swallow him, the occasional sorrow.  Not the wound that throbbed and ached from its early days.  

You seemed just an air closer to something less horrifying than you could and have been before.

“How is your belly?” your voice plain as you motioned to him with your free hand, your mare sniffing at his hair in turn.  

“Better than how it used to be, itches when the rain comes ive noticed”, the prince said with a boyish grin as he tossed his hands with a used-to shrug.  “How's your head?” he asked, in kind noticing there to be no fully apparent marker of injury. With a relaxed shrug, you gave a grin as well, “better than how it used to be, felt the world would never stop spinning.” 

And for once, the memory was light.  The two of you chuckling about it now as if it hadn’t reigned a terror over hearts.  Like a silly squabble that seemed only so small now when truly face-to-face.  

The laughter subsided, and light air remained between you two for the seconds that passed, him looking to you and you back to him.  And with a breath, you looked back to your tent and then to the prince again, “Would you like tea?” a simple invitation that had his eyes widen just a hair.  

Standing up straighter despite his hair now licked and styled out of place by the horse's tongue as your mare licked at him, Valarr agreed, “I would like that, miss?”

“Miss ___” you replied hodling the flap open as you entered back into your tent.  Valarr repeated your name as he followed you inside and found it sounded perfect.  “I am Valarr”, he would introduce himself as he stood amongst your temporary home.  And as you moved to gather and prepare the tea, you too tested his name, “Valarr”, you said, “…nice to meet you”, and to him it sounded as if it were meant to be said.

Not by crowds or advisors.

But by you.  

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A/N: this is the first GOT/AKOSK fic ive ever done and first fic ive written in YEARSSSS so sorry its so shite. anyways love Valarr im delulu and was inspired by God of war Laufey soooo.

It took everything to keep yourself in the good graces of hawking eyes that loomed from stone perches.  How’d it always been when kneeling to pick up a wandering spider, spindly legs creeping over your fingers until crossing the bridge to hers.

The two of you more focused on caring for the bugs and birds that crossed kingslanding to find you.  “She’s an idiot” Aegon would grumble to his younger bother, both still watching the two of you below.

They’d always be watching.  As the years passed and bodies grew to carry smaller ones.  Your hands smoothing over the fabric of Helaena’s gown and the rounded curve of her belly.  Always there and lingering while Aegon slithered away to brothels and Aemond sadly departed for classes.

You would remain with her, even while her siblings grew to hate yours.  “I could never hate you…” her voice soft in your imagination, eyes dancing over the written words of her most recent letter to you.

It the early day when no light from the sun reached the tower you wrote back to her.  Scribbling down on the pages and waiting for the ink to dry before sealing the letter shut.  Packing a bag with toys and gifts to bring and shower the twins with.

Arms open as the small bundles of white hair jumped to you.  “Hello my darlings !” Strong arms hoisting the twins up as they squealed in excitement.  Excitement Helaena could only join as she crept closer in.  The privacy of the woods allowing the soft press of your lips to hers, foreheads pressed close and tired eyes able to rest.

While always loyal to your family the burden of the war grew heavy on weary shoulders.  Declaring for Aegon only if it meant the safety of Everyone for what your mind planned.  Even in the dead of night with another letter being written the sound of thundering feet filled the halls.  The guards at your door ushering you awake as a great commotion filled the castle.  

“What- what has happened !?” Came quickly from you as Helaena came into view.  Jaehaera pressed tightly to her chest as you pushed past the worrying ladies, “they killed the boy…” was all the words she could muster.  Eyes glassy and distant even when meeting your own.  

The night didn’t go much better on as emotions quickly ran high and far higher.  Spending it soothing Jaehaera while Aegon came and quickly broke down.  Perhaps hearing your own screams didn’t come easy as the still room made a mockery of you both.  

Hand in hand, looking over at the blood drenched cradle while Jaehaera slept cradled in your arms.  “We should go” was all that you managed to whisper holding her hand tighter.  

The sack in her free hand almost non existent as quietly the dragon pit was relieved of Dreamfyre.  

This had been going on for a few nights now.  Hidden under the eclipse darkness at first were the lingering glances and wandering eyes.  Those crystal blue eyes were not dragging down your back, over wave strengthened arms, or over a strong divers chest.  She walked past you with poise and not her usual longing…

Ronal is a beautiful woman that no na’vi or human could deny that and nor could Tonowari.  Even now as she was rounded with pregnancy you still desired her.  A woven top in golden strands sits atop her chest, adorned with mother pearls. It stops and hangs just after the apex of her now- swollen breasts.  Her waist rounded with the warmth of your first child with her belly protruding beautifully.   She looked every bit desirable as she did before and you awed in marvel.  You had managed to win the woman’s heart and had been happily mated ever since, nothing but bliss and endless nights of love and days of endless happiness.  

But something about the way she looked to your clueless brother lit a small fire of jealousy in your chest.  It wasn’t uncommon for others to look upon her knowing she was mated but it was different if she returned those looks.  And this had been going on for a little while now.

Those beautiful lips smiling at him and not you was heartbreaking.  Durning dinner she’d happily take the fish offered to her instead of taking the larger one you presented.  And Tonowari for all his glory was just a stupid as a hollow coconut.  It wasn’t his fault his sister in law lusted over him so plainly, happily laughing along without noticing your withering looks.

But the end reared it’s ugly head when you found your mate with said coconut brother.  His hands caressing her tummy and listening to the stirring of the baby in her womb.  To anyone else it may have been a sweet gesture but it was maddening to you. She was only five or so months along and you were still ever protective.  Despite your busy schedule you always managed to spend lunch and dinner with her.  Massaging her back and shoulders and braiding her hair when she felt too tired to do so.  “I love you…” she’d mumble curled up in your arms as the two of you settled in for the night.

But this would not be that kind of night.  

You didn’t understand how you got over there or how you managed to pull her away, in the snap of an you muttered a quick “excuse me” and you both were off.  Your much larger hand wrapped around her arm with each furious step you took closer to your home.

She says nothing the whole way practically silent until they were stood in the privacy of each other.  

“What was that?” You grumbled looking down at her.  Even in your anger she still looked just as gorgeous, her much smaller form easily stoping at the swell of your chest.  Bright blue green eyes looked up to you from fluttering eye lashes, “nothing my love…” her voice soft and shy.  “Looked like a lot to me” you would say lowly, her ears folding down at your change of tone.  

Her smaller hands came up to your chest gentle palms running along the strong muscle. “You find my brother much more appealing” you continued  taking her hands into your own.  Raising them to your lips to kiss the soft knuckles and skin, the action did not ease her even with your gentle hold.  

“I could never” 

“Then let me ensure it.”

On the sponge of your bed,  you waste no time attacking her lips. Her plush one connecting so beautifully as you kissed her breathless, tongues hungrily lapping at one another as she sucked on yours.  Gasping for breath as you pushed her down onto her back, trapped between your strong arms and her arms coiled around your neck.  

Her arms are everywhere.  Scratching down your back and grabbing at strong forearms, so much smaller and frailer especially now with a belly so rounded.  Even when you separate her blue lips kissed swollen as you take in her beautiful form.  Legs spread around you, breasts heavy with milk, pupils blown wide as she looks at you with the same wanting.

You can smell her arousal from here, eyes wandering down to her ruined loins. She’s nearly mewling with your larger finger pressing on her clit.  Lazily pushing the cloth to the side just feel her heat, coating your fingers in her sweet nectar before bringing them to your lips for a taste.  

“Darling” she breathes watching your fingers dive back down to her core.  Prodding and coating as she grinds against your digits, but you just pull away each time.  Slow and torturous as you watch her tremble beneath you, leaving her clit untouched and pussy empty.  Her breath heavy as she looked up at you, reaching to grasp your shoulders to further pull you along.  “Please, more please” she whined holding your hand still.  Dragging her clit down your wrist, hips rolling and dragging as she searched for some kind of friction.

Her begging like music to your ears.  And for a moment you feel a bit bad for her, with a crack of composure you remove her loins.  Tossing the garment to the side and even removing her top to throw it off as well.

Your cock his throbbing almost painfully but you resist.  Kissing at her neck and traveling the length of her torso.  Kissing each swollen breasts and taking each purple nipple into your mouth.  Running the sensitive bud over your tongue as she pulls on your hair, practically weeping at the sensitivity.

She holds on but you don’t linger long.  Kissing down her rounded belly and caressing the stretched skin.  “Comfortable?” You whispered not wanting to put her in any unnecessary discomfort.  With a simple nod you continued your journey downwards lips hungrily wrapping around her swollen clit. Face Burying in her dripping sex as your tongue pushed through her glistening folds.  

Her legs shaking around your head until you grip the soft flesh and hold her still.  She’s utterly wrecked with her hands pulling at your hair, bucking her hips further into your tongue as you devour her.

She’s crying above you as you sneak a glance, her breasts heaving and face to the sky as her eyes roll.  Your practically ready to cum at the sight of her, cock strained and leaking from its confinements.  Practically falling out of your modesty as your length pushes out from the fabric.  So heavy and thick down your leg as precum drools from the angry head, balls filled with unspent cum as she cums around your tongue.  

Almost surprising you as she squirts over your tongue.  Chin dripping with her fluids as she gasps and struggles just ahead of you.  

“Now be a good girl from now on…”

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A/N: I actually wrote this months ago and just finished today. I might have to do a part two… but I’ve actually never written for a female character or anything like this.

so any tips or suggestions are encouraged and requests are open!

Two words… SLOW BURN, first and foremost both are still deeply hurt and grieving.  Tyr is fresh from being imprisoned and Kratos still reeling after Ragnarok.

Kratos is quite weary of the former god as he brings Mimir to speak with him.  If anything the two don’t truly interact without outside help. 

Awkward to the outside eye as they sit in an ominous silence around a camp fire.

The two find common ground when it comes to god hood and what it means.  Learning from one another and finding solace in their differences and similarities.

Their relationship is a very slow but meaningful one in my opinion.

Occasional trips to other realms or taking time to hunt together.  Quiet storytelling or quick “hello’s” when in passing.

There is no big gesture or ask the two simply just fall into place at each other’s side.

Tyr is the more openly romantic one of the two with physical touch and words of affirmation being big things for him.  

After being locked away for so long tho he’s very hesitant about opening up to another.

Kratos doesn’t mind and often finds the gentle touches and closeness to be perfect.  More meaningful than some swooning kiss could ever be.

“May I?” Would come his lover’s quiet voice as they walked together.  And without fail Kratos would offer his hand to him.

Tyr’s larger one wrapped ever so delicately around his own as they continued on their walk.

One thing about this pair is communication and proper boundaries are a must.  Very tentative and careful with one another no matter the occasion.

“Is this alright?” Kratos would mutter running his fingers through the giant’s soft hair.  A soft hum of approval and he’d continue on twirling the soft locs through his fingers.

And in the morning when those larger hands massaged at Kratos’ waist, and soft lips pressed against his shoulder all it took was quiet “continue” and they’d be all over each other.

On his back Kratos looked through hooded lids as Tyr loomed over him.  Legs spread wide and held up at his lover sunk deeper into him.

“So beautiful…” watching as his cock nestled deeper inside, kratos’ hole speared and puffy with glistening silk with every filling inch.

Tyr is so much bigger and it drives the both of them mad with lust.  Kratos is a pillow princess and Tyr’s only cowgirl and the god can’t get enough.

Losing himself as he plows into the smaller man with each bed rattling thrusts. hands on his hips, pulling Kratos back and pushing into him over and over. 

Kratos isn’t a loud man but with Tyr he’s a growling mess.  Low moans filling the room to mingle with slapping skin and creaking bed frame.

These two have so much stamina it’s almost unreal how long they can go.  “So good for me…” Tyr would whisper finally as he buried his cock fully, Kratos holding onto with dear life as he was folded like a pretzel.

cum dripping from his hole as and down his thighs. Eyes rolled to the back of his skull choking on a breathless moan as he too reached a mind numbing climax.

Tyr is very much a service top and lives to make sure his love is satisfied.  Slowly pulling out and peppering Kratos with soft kisses.  Lips pressed together in a soft kiss as hands grasp and caress the other.

Aftercare and just taking care of one another is simply a must as well.  Relaxing in the bath some time later or cuddling up after a previously prepared meal.

These two are honesty just goals in my eyes.  Very sweet and slow in a way that’s just perfect…

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A/N; WELL I finally wrote something!! Honestly I really do like this ship and maybe I’ll write more for em.

Thor embraces his affections for you with each fiber of his being. You are his ultimate strength and carry his heart with the gentle touch he lacked from his own family. The family you’d built together was loved and cherished as Sif covered for you, happily allowing the two of you to live without the dumpster fire that could’ve possibly been started.

He had been far off on an assignment for the allfather when he’d heard a rumor about “a woman made from clay.” carved and made in the image of Jörð, Goddess of the Earth. And as the young Thor watched from his place on the river bank he could only marvel in your beauty. The rumors, no matter how descriptive, failed to truly capture a fraction of your golden figure. In this world lightning could strike twice. But for you, the God would make the skies shout their praises without falter. He’d make the clouds part and shower your warm skin with their soothing rain, the water pure and healing for you alone.

You had been wading in the water washing your coiled hair when he’d happened upon you. Melanated skin glimmering under the golden rays of the sun and plump lips parted slightly as you breathed Thor’s stolen air.

His eyes only widened the longer he looked for he’d never seen such beauty in all his long life. From all the realms he’s seen and every type of creature, you were in a league all your own.

“Um excuse me?” his voice was sharp and cracked much to his own personal embarrassment. But you turned to him with the most beautiful smile and when he got closer he could only marvel. Your eyes fluttered beautifully behind long curled lashes as he struggled to find the proper words to say.

Looking back on it Thor could only cover his face in embarrassment as you retold the story to your two boys. Magni and Modi were only little ones when they first heard the tale, the only true story they’d hear about you that they could recall in such detail. Magni looked more like you than anything, his caramel skin and long coiled hair made him your mini me. Modi looked just like Magni minus his shorter, more red hair like Thor’s who adored resting in his father’s strong arms.

But while Magni was your twin he took on Thor’s more adventurous personality, Modi much preferred your more calm and serene aurora and held that same for himself.

Safe in the little corner of the realm the little family could live quietly away from the gaze of the allfather. Where the boys could remove their glamor and reveal their true selves, where Thor could wake up and see his beautiful wife and children safe and happy.

The years went by and the small bubble began to burst. The influence of the allfather spoiling your sons and husband and the rest of the family. Sif told you everything, the verbal abuse, alcoholism, and just overall terrible trajectory things were on.

When Magni came to you one cold afternoon, quieter and solemn you knew something had been terribly wrong. His arms bruised and hair matted with sweat as you held him in your arms. His quiet sobs loud in your ear as hot tears poured from his eyes. Then Modi came crawling to you just days later and hid under your dress until Thor had to practically pull him from you. “Mama! Mother please!” His eyes were bloodshot and teary as he held onto your hand.

That was the last time you saw your boys alive. Modi craving his father’s strength while Magni craved yours.

But it was Thrúd who needed the strength of all of midgard when she traveled home to find you after Thor had fallen off the wagon. The door to your cottage eerily stood alone as a dark crater bruised the earth behind it. The rubble of stones and metal lingering as she took in the awful sight.

When she did find you her shock could only be imagined as she looked upon your awful state. Limply floating in the river amongst the cracked earth and scorched area, the water stained a crimson red as your bloodied form lay amongst the rocks. A long spear skewered through your rounded belly as two crows looked upon you with glowing eyes…

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A/N: I gave up lowkey Writing this its been months since ive wrote anything ive got 4% on this computer- Im gonna just post all my drafts.

ANYWAY dont foret ur umbrella <3