hi, this is a beginning chapter of my very first fanfic i wrote and honestly it’s been on draft for months, i wasn’t sure to post it, but i had technical problems with an account where i store all my drafts so ig im just gonna post it now. hope you enjoy reading this! (if there’s any writing corrections kindly tell me, i’d like some feedback)
The sun in Intacia was always merciless; sharp, stinging, as if to remind its people they were born to endure. Life here began before dawn and burned through the day with unrelenting fervor. The streets never emptied of voices; the rhythm of conversation pulsed like a second heartbeat. Rest was a foreign indulgence. There was always something to celebrate even the sheer act of waking up. This was not a land built on inheritance but one carved out through defiance, shaped by those who had fought for every grain of soil they called home. Unlike their Imperial neighbors, who wrapped themselves in ancestral titles and worship their bloodlines as divine, the Intacians placed their loyalty in one another. Brotherhood, not lineage, defined them. And should harm come to their own, they would not hesitate to spill blood in return. From this scorched earth and steel-bound kinship rose the most feared warrior the southern front had ever known during the Empire’s invasion: Castin Hammer.
His name echoed through every corner of Intacia, spoken with reverence, fear, or awe, depending on who uttered it. Castin Hammer hadn’t inherited his place through blood or the dreams of ambitious parents. There was no prophecy behind his rise. He had been a nobody in his home village, unnoticed, uncelebrated. It was the army that gave him shape, and war that carved his name into legend. Victory by victory, he carved out a reputation: brutal to his enemies, exacting in strategy, relentless in command. In the war’s darkest, most brutal years, as chaos consumed the border front, Castin rose again and again through the ranks, stepping into command after every fallen captain, never faltering. Until at last the defense of Intacia’s final front was placed in his hands. Under his command, the tide turned. What had once been a centuries-long invasion became a pushback. And in that final chapter, it was he who stood at the edge of ruin and carved the path toward the reclamation of their homeland.
Now pulled back to the capital in the aftermath of the union and peace treaty, he stood not just as a soldier but as the face of Intacia’s enduring might, the embodiment of everything the nation revered: raw spirit, battlefield genius, and the unyielding will to survive. There was something about him. some spell of war-forged magnetism, that turned the fear he once commanded into a disquieting charm. Men respected him without question. Women lingered in his shadow. Elite families paraded their daughters in hopes of becoming his consort. Children pretend to wield weapons in alleyway games, dreaming they might one day rise like he did. His name fills both tents and taverns with stories; some exaggerated, many earned. The kind of stories that make Intacian women lean in closer and Imperial nobles flinched in their chairs, not just for the blood he had spilled, but because he refused to fit their mold. He is everything they once sought to erase from history: the barbaric, unpolished, wild blood of the South. Yet now, they cannot silence him. No amount of etiquette or courtly sneers could erase what he was. Castin is myth made flesh, the most feared commander of the war, the most brutal in battle, and still, every whispered tale of his ruthlessness is chased by another of his impossible allure. And he wears that contradiction like armor. Lives it, breathes it. As if, in the quiet after war, his legend must shout louder than cannons. And in every corner of the capital, his name is louder still spoken with admiration, resentment, lust, fear. He knows it. Thrives in it. Proud to be the man who could bring armies to heel and still have their wives bend for him.
His reputation never dimmed in the rest of war, only blazed brighters. And in its wake, he chose to celebrate not in palaces, but in the taverns he'd never had time to enter before—some only just reopened in the ruins of a rebuilding capital. Living and proving the fairytales that are told about him. Castin Hammer, villager turned soldier, a backbone of unity and peace to the coastal shore and Intacia.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: One arrow, one assassin, and the world you knew disappears. You awaken to a life without memory of Castin, the man who has held your heart.
You wake to the warmth of his chest under your cheek, the steady beat of his heart like a drum.
Your fingers trace lazy patterns across his chest while his fingers move along your back, mapping the familiar terrain of your skin. For a moment, the world beyond the bedroom ceases to exist.
There is only the rhythm of breath, the quiet press of bodies, the intimacy of skin and memory.
You lift your eyes to him, curious, playful, yet serious all at once.
“I believe that our blood holds memories,” you murmur, voice soft.
“What makes you think so, Babe?”
His fingers pause, tracing the delicate line of your spine, his tone teasing, but filled with genuine interest.
“I think our blood carries everything within us. Our past, our present, and eventually, our future. It flows through our every moment. Because of this, I believe we bleed during our important moments. At birth, during life, and even in death. As we lose our blood, we lose our memories. And what is a human without their memories? Nothing. So, we die.”
He smiles, a slow, indulgent curve of his lips, brushing off your speech as a whimsical thought.
“That’s… very interesting,” he says.
You catch the faintest amusement in his eyes, but he lets it pass without further comment, returning your fingers to his chest with that easy, affectionate patience only he can muster.
You don’t know, at that moment, how right you are.
The day of the attack comes soon after.
You had been walking through the corridor, thoughts consumed with the morning’s reports, the subtle tension of the council, and Castin’s absence from the field. Then, a hiss, the whisper of a bowstring, the sudden and undeniable sting of metal against flesh.
You jerk forward instinctively, thrown across the stone floor. One arrow, aimed at him, finds you instead. Hot pain blossoms in your chest.
You scream, the sound echoing down the corridor.
He is there in an instant, senses honed sharper than any blade, and fury ignites within him. The world narrows to you, crumpled on the ground, bleeding, vulnerable.
The assassin meets his eyes, a fatal mistake.
Castin moves with brutal precision, his hands and blades an extension of his wrath, and the man who dared harm you dies before he even draws breath.
You don’t know how long you drift between consciousness and darkness. You only know the pain, the cold, the warmth of your own blood.
The healers swarm, hands working desperately to staunch it, yet even their skill cannot undo the damage. With each passing moment, your memories slip through the cracks.
Life, love, laughter, everything tied to him, drains away with the blood spilling from you.
When you wake, the world is unfamiliar.
Your eyes open to a ceiling, a ceiling that doesn’t feel like home.
Panic rises, sharp and immediate, as the room spins.
Voices murmur around you, but their words do not reach the part of your mind that knows. You do not recognise the warmth of the hand brushing yours. You do not know the man kneeling at your bedside with worry etched into every line of his face.
“Babe… can you hear me?” Castin’s voice cracks, desperate.
You look at him, eyes wide and cold, brimming with a fear you do not understand.
There is no recognition, no warmth, only confusion and fear.
The love that once flowed freely between you is gone, stolen by blood and circumstance.
Castin feels his chest constrict, the sight of your unfamiliar fear feels like a blade twisting endlessly in him.
Every ounce of him turns toward one mission, to make you remember, to make you love him once more.
The days that follow are a delicate, agonising dance.
He speaks of light topics, your injury, the fact that you are married, small details to ground you without overwhelming you.
He avoids the “before” entirely, knowing that the weight of your lost memories is already heavy enough.
Every touch is measured, deliberate, and designed to remind you of comfort and trust.
And you respond kindly, without knowing why his presence soothes, why your pulse leaps at the sight of him, why your chest tightens whenever he nears.
There is attraction, yes, though you cannot name it, there is trust, yes, though you do not know its origin.
Slowly, carefully, he begins to reconstruct the foundation of your love.
Evenings are spent in proximity, sharing meals, walking the estate, brushing fingers along the garden walls. You laugh at his teasing without understanding the history behind it, but the sound warms him in a way he had thought impossible after your injury.
Each shared smile, each shared touch, draws you closer without forcing the past upon you.
Then comes the garden.
The roses you planted bloom under the sun.
Their fragrance fills the air, thick and intoxicating, and for a moment, the world shrinks to this single space, this single heartbeat.
You turn to him, impulsive, driven by a feeling you do not know yet, and press your lips to his. The kiss is electric, a spark setting off a chain reaction through every fibre of both your beings.
Castin nearly cries, the brutal, unyielding commander undone by the raw force of your love.
When he pulls back slightly, breathless, he meets your eyes, and his voice is low, trembling with awe and desire.
“You know, you once told me about your belief regarding blood. How it holds memories, how it carries our past.”
He bites his lip, drawing the tiniest trace of blood, and then kisses you again, deeper, hungrier.
The world tilts, air stolen, heart racing, until the torrent of your memories crashes back in. The arrow, the fear, the terror, the love, the life you shared with him, all returned with the taste of iron and the heat of passion.
Your mind floods with recollection. You remember everything, yet you are changed. You are not the same as you were before the attack but the love remains, deeper, fiercer.
Among the red roses, your bodies entwined, hearts beating in rhythm, you become one again.
Fingers trace familiar paths, lips brush and collide, and your soul recognises the other as its own.
Fate, it seems, is stronger than any weapon, stronger than any wound, stronger than any arrow that might attempt to separate you.
Castin’s laughter, rough and joyful, echoes through the garden as he holds you close. You cling to him, shaking with the intensity of what has been lost and found. Your love has survived blood, fear, and memory itself.
And in that perfect, suffused moment, with roses blooming around you and the warmth of each other as your sanctuary, you know one thing for sure, nothing can undo the bond that was always yours.
Your lips part from his, yet the heat between you does not disappear.
His hands move along the length of your back, memorising curves, angles, and the soft rise and fall of your body as if committing every detail to memory.
You press closer, chest to chest, heartbeats colliding in a rhythm that feels like it could shake the very earth beneath your feet.
“Babe…” he breathes against your lips, voice rough with need and awe. “I’ve waited… for this. For you. For us.”
You shiver at the sound, instinctively pressing into him, nails grazing the back of his neck, feeling the tension there release under your touch. Every rough edge, every strength-honed muscle, quivers underneath your fingertips as if responding to a memory that your mind cannot yet name, but your body remembers.
He lifts you gently, arms strong and unyielding, until your legs wrap around his waist, anchoring yourself to him.
The kiss deepens, teeth grazing, tongues brushing in a way that sparks heat straight through your core. His grip tightens at your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, the press of his hardness against you a promise you cannot resist.
Your hands wander over his chest, down his sides, tracing the fine lines of muscle, the small scars that speak of battles fought and won. You know them instinctively, and though you do not remember the exact moments, your body remembers their meaning.
Every touch is electric, sending pulses through your nerves, reminding you, insisting you remember.
“Do you feel it? This… us?”
“Yes. Every part of me. I-”
He silences you with a rough, desperate kiss, teeth catching the corner of your lip, tongue pressing urgently into your mouth. Your body arches instinctively into his, craving the heat of him, the strength, the control tempered with devotion.
He lowers you carefully onto the soft grass next to the roses, petals brushing against your skin, the fragrance intoxicating.
Every inch of you is exposed to him, yet you feel no fear, only desire, only the pull of connection that refuses to be broken.
He hovers above you, lips tracing your jawline, his hands moving with reverence and hunger, learning the new paths your body now takes without the memory of past familiarity, yet still yearning for him instinctively.
“Goddess…” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing your collarbone. “You’re mine. All of you.”
Your breath hitches as he kisses lower, teeth grazing your sensitive skin, tongue tracing the line of your neck.
You arch into him, hands running through his hair, tugging gently, urging him closer, deeper. He groans at your touch, hips grinding against yours, the friction an exquisite torment.
Every kiss, every touch, every whisper of his lips across your skin reminds you, reminds your body and your soul, of the life you’ve shared.
Your fingers clutch at him, nails pressing into his back as waves of pleasure roll through you.
“Tell me what you need,” he rasps, voice low, hoarse with want. “I’ll give it to you. All of it.”
You arch into him, breath coming in gasps.
“You… I need you. Here. Now. I need… you, Castin.”
And he is relentless.
Hands, lips, and body worship you.
Every touch, every kiss, every heated press is an echo of love, both remembered and rediscovered.
The garden becomes a sanctuary, a stage, a witness to your bond, the rekindling of desire, the reawakening of passion.
You feel him, deep and warm, and shiver as pleasure curls tightly in your stomach, rising with every stroke, every shiver, every whispered name. Your bodies move as one, instinctive, urgent, perfectly synchronised.
You cry out, his name, your release, the memories flooding back with every shiver.
He holds you close as the world narrows to your shared heat and the scent of roses.
Lips pressed together, bodies entwined, hearts racing in a rhythm older than memory, older than blood itself. You gasp, shudder, and find him again, until finally you collapse against him, breathless, overwhelmed, utterly consumed by the force of your reunited love.
“I… I love you,” he whispers against your temple, voice breaking, tears hot against your skin. “I never… ever want to be without you again.”
You bury your face against him, heart still pounding, and realize: you love him too. Not as you remembered, not exactly as before, but deeper, fiercer, a bond forged in pain, loss, and more.
The sun sets behind the rosebushes, painting the garden in gold, as you both lie there, bodies tangled.
And in that moment, you know with certainty, nothing, neither blood, arrow, nor memory can ever separate you again.
-
Note: The above picture is from Pinterest! I do not claim it as mine.
"Watch your step," Castin yelped, his hand guarding her lower back protectively as they carefully made their way down the steps. The Baroness had announced her pregnancy to him a month ago, and since then, Castin had "baby-proofed" the entire manor.
"I haven't even made it halfway down," the Baroness sighed, glancing up at him. Castin scoffed playfully in disbelief.
"And? Anything can happen! One minute you're sitting pretty next to me, and the next, you've fallen over." He shivered at the thought, a surge of anxiety coursing through him violently.
The Baroness took another step down the stairs, and Castin's hands slid down her sides to steady her for the next step. Their servants, who had been busily attending to the evening's routines, slowed their steps as they observed their lord and lady bickering at the top of the staircase.
With a proud smile, Castin watched as his wife finally reached the bottom floor. His hands rubbed reassuringly along the small of her back, adding unnecessary support. The Baroness grumbled as Castin beamed, a smug smile spreading across his handsome face as he guided her forward.
So um rate my performance and give me tips of characters and overall since this is my first time writing about castin x baroness...
Summary: Months had passed since that night, the night of reunion and hurt that neither of them could forget. They thought the worst had ticked by…they couldn’t have been more wrong.
Pairing: Castin Hammer x f!reader
A/N: I told ya’ll I’d post again 😋. Found this is my drafts and decided to finish and post it since you all seemed to like my last one. This one isn’t actually like a part two to my other Castin fic, but it’s another hurt-comfort situation because apparently I can’t write anything without hurting my own feelings?? Idk. But anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as you liked the other one! Enjoy!
Castin jolts awake with a choked gasp, immediately raising himself to sit up as his eyes dart around the moonlight illuminated bedroom. His vision blurry and disorienting as he tries to control his ragged breaths, soon failing as his mind thinks back to his very vivid feeling dream.
Baroness, his wife, struggling to hang onto the glimpse of life as blood squirts out from the sword impaled in her abdomen. Castins there, hands shaking as her desperately applies pressure to the wound, knowing damn well there’s nothing that can heal the every bleeding injury. He takes in shuddering breaths as he struggles to hold back his tears, the heaviness behind his eyes only increasing as he hears her own breathing become more and more shallow. As she takes in one last, staggering breath, she lets out a quiet “I love you.” His eyes widen as he lets out a wet “oh my god,” as he watches the life drain from his wife’s eyes. Looking up at the sky in hopes of a miracle, a sign that she’s living, but alas none come. He shuts his eyelids tightly, wanting to wake up, to feel her once beating heart against his own, to feel the known warmness of her now cold body. But he knows, goddess does he know the look of a dead, pleading soul by heart all too well.
Trying to decipher what’s real and what’s not, his desperate eyes soon make focus on a little bead of candle light coming from the library. As his mind switches to autopilot, his shaking hands roughly rip the sheets from his sweaty body, his stiff feet soon making contact with the cold floor, causing his body to involuntarily shiver at the feeling.
His body tries to stand in its own, not realizing its own weak state, legs and knees giving out as he grabs onto the bedside table to support himself, his quivering arms and hands knocking over glass and whatever else lays upon the table, his ringing ears not detecting the crashing and shattering of the bottles. Eyes shutting tensely when his vision blurs once again, noticing the slight sting in his palms from the shards that lay on the table and ground.
A room away the Baroness hears the commotion, looking up from her book at a source for the sound, finding nothing in her line of sight. Figuring it was her clumsy husband, she shuts her book quickly before walking over slowly to their shared bedroom, peaking over the corner, not expecting the right before her.
She sees her husband, hunched over their bedside table, shoulders shaking and head moving from side to side, his breathing erratic and quick . Taking notice in the broken bottles on the floor, she carefully starts making her way towards him, feet tapping on the floor quietly.
“Castin?” She whispers out, soon met with an uncomfortable silence. As if being pulled from a trance, her husbands head perks up, jerking to face her, but the glazed over look in his eyes makes her queasy.
“Baby,” he rasps out, voice nearly breaking. With two left feet, he tries to make his way over, as does she. But his knees soon buckle and his body falls forward, the baroness catching his heavy body in her much smaller arms. With a grunt, she tries as gently as she can to set them both on the floor, being held up by their knees. As she does, his arms frantically curl around her as if she’d disappear, face snuggling against her neck hurriedly.
“C-Castin? What-Are you alright what happened-“ Her thoughts were cut off by a small sob coming out of her husband’s mouth. It surprises her, to say the least. To hear her husband get choked up. His usual stoic and masculine self being broken down to nothing but one of a weeping child. She feels his tears soak into her sheer silk nightgown before she speaks up again, more gentle this time, much like a soothing mother.
“Castin? Oh my poor dear, what happened?” She coos, her soft hands pull his face away from her, feeling a sense of dread as she sees the absolutely heartbreaking look in his eyes. His eyes are wide, unfocused, fat tears threatening to fall down his roughed up face, eyebrows furrowed tightly as his lip quivers sadly. Surprisingly, he speaks up.
“I—I lost you..you…” he chokes up on his own words before continuing, “Oh god, you-you were bleeding ou-out e-everywhere…so..so much blood I-..” he tries to continue his thoughts but a fresh batch of tears stop him from doing so. Her hands come back up to wipe them away as they gush out. As he babbles out incoherently, she starts pressing soft kisses onto his tear soaked face as a way of grounding his scrambled mind. As if it was some kind of cure, his eyes flutter closed at the contact, piecing together the fragment of memories slowly.
Her delicate hands trace gentle circles along his rigid arms, feeling as they release the tension that lies beneath. Continuing her ministrations, she feels his body succumb to the tension and finally give out, almost collapsing on top of her if it wasn’t for her grabbing his shoulders to steady him, they both would have ended up with an even worse injury.
“Are you with me, my love? Can you feel me now?” She asks softly, one hand coming free to caress his chiseled face. It takes him a moment to compel himself to nod gently on her hold. Smiling in slight relief, her hand rests against his cheek as she watches his eyes open slowly. The moonlight catches them perfectly, the glazed over look her once held now replaced with one of a tired worker, droopy eyes meet her own sheepishly.
“My love?” He starts, voice rough and gravely, rightfully so. She nods, a sad smile coming across her features.
“Are you alright now? Whatever happened to cause that?” She questions, thumb stroking his cheek lovingly. His eyes trail down to the floor before taking a deep breath before starting.
“A..a nightmare, a very vivid one at that. I….i thought it was so real, you were…” he takes in a shuddering breath before continuing, “You were bleeding out, right in front of me. A sword straight to the stomach…I…I couldn’t stop it and…” his voice becomes watery along with his eyes once again as she shushes him gently, both hands now coming to caress his face lovingly.
“I’m right here, my love. Alive and very well, very healthy. Breathing and speaking if you wish. It was all just a dream, a figment of your imagination, none of it was real, alright?” He nods against her, hands coming to cup her own against his face, feeling the warmth of them, relishing in the fact that he can feel the pulse within. “You can feel it, no? My pulse, my heartbeat, my warmness, *thats* all real. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere any time soon.” He smiles, eyes still casted down to the soft fabric of which she wears, thanking the stars there’s no blood or weapon penetrating her porcelain skin.
“I feel you, baby, all of you.” He adds, taking in the small smile that makes its way across her face. With a loving glance, he slowly leans forward to interlock their lips, the weight of the world falling off his shoulders as he once again feels the heat radiating off her onto him.
Pulling away gently, his eyes meet her own, blinking sluggishly. His hands moving from hers to wrap around her midsection, face once again moving to her neck.
“I don’t think there’s anything in this world that can make me stop loving you, wife.”
“Likewise, husband.”
I love finding old writing from months ago that I just completely gave up on lmao. Idkw but the idea of Castin being like..so comfort starved triggers something in my brain. I love it when warrior men get all emotionalllll. Oh, this also don’t proofread either, I don’t think any of my stuff will actually be 💀. Am I gonna reuse the same Desmond image for every Castin fic??..perhaps
I hope you guys enjoyed this one too! I’ve been trying to post more but life is life and it literally stops for no one so I might just be scattering around random writes here and there lol. As always, comment about what you liked and what you didn’t like, or leave me a request in my inbox! I love ur guy’s ideas and seeing people request stuff makes me heart so happy ❤️❤️
(P.S. does anyone know how to make a master list?? I rlly wanna make one but I’ve got no clue how to work this😭. I’m doing all this on my phone so uh, help it wanted)
“a soul that’s born in cold and rain- knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight”
Castin x Baroness! (Desmond Asmr)
TW: Scars, cause it’s Castin. A tiny bit suggestive, cause once again, it’s Castin.
Prompt: tracing scars
Summary: When Castin wakes up one morning, he isn’t faced with the empty bed he’s grown accustomed to many times before, due to his wife’s busy schedule. Instead, his wife is there; and awake already. She’s quietly tracing the scars on his chest and arms, ones from all the battles he’s been in. How will Castin react to this morning surprise?
Tags: @themonotonysyndrome thank you so much for all your kind words, discussing Castin and all that has been so much fun!! You’re truly an inspiration.
As Castin’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was sunlight. The rays of morning light filtered in through the windows of his room, casting a warm glow on all the rooms items. He let out a long sigh, mentally preparing himself for another long day of training. But for a moment, he relished in the quiet ambience of the morning. Birds cooed and chirps outside of his bedroom window, a light breeze rustled trees outside, he could even hear some of his men training already in a field a ways off.
A part of him wished his wife, the Baroness, could be here with him. He desperately wanted more time with her- as he always did. But at the same time, he knew how important the work she was doing would be to the growth of, well, everything.
A lazy smile crossed his face as he pictured his wife. He knew she was probably nose deep in a pile of work at this point. Over the past few months, he’d tried to pop in to check on her once in a while. Often, he was shooed out, with her fussing about needing to work and that he had things he needed to attend to as well. But occasionally, she’d let him stay. When this rare event happened, he would lounge on one of the chairs in her office, mentally grumbling about how uncomfortable it was, and would pick something to focus on. Sometimes it was a book that the Baroness had long finished, other times it was a map that had been marked up. But what the Baroness was unaware of, was that the items Castin would choose were merely things for his hands to fidget with. When he was in her presence in those times, his focus would always be on her. He loved watching the way her dress would sway as she bustled around the room, the way her nimble fingers would race over her paperwork, the way her eyes focused when she read the work. One of the things he loved most was the way he could practically see the wheels in her head turning as she thought long and hard.
As much as he loved these moments, he also missed having more quiet ones. Relaxed ones, with just the two of them.
His eyes opened again as he realized he’d begun to drift off as he thought. He blinked a few times, trying to keep himself awake. Only in doing so, as his senses finally awoke, he realized there was a hand laying on his arm. Not just a hand, fingers too.
His head shot to the side, eyes wide and expectant. His gaze softened as he saw his wife there, bathed in the golden glow of sunshine.
“Sweetheart- what? Shouldn’t you be working right now? You’ve literally never once slept in, do I need to call the doctor, babe?” he asked, his full attention on you. A slight smile tugged at the sides of his lips but there was a look of worry in his eyes as he scanned your face for any answer.
“No, Castin, I didn’t sleep in,” the Baroness replied with a roll of her eyes and a chuckle emitting softly from her throat, “I cleared my schedule for today. I’m going to spend it with my husband,”
Castin just blinked, taking in the calm smile that coated his wife’s face. She was serious.
“You’re joking, right, babe?” he asked.
He paused for a moment, taking in the sight in front of him, trying to comprehend that: yes, his wife really had made the time to spend the day with him. He took a second to take her in. The way the light was shining off her hair, the way the golden glow of the morning looked on her skin, how the sheets of their bed looked pressed against her.
He let out a hearty, happy chuckle.
“Well, if that’s the view I get to see all day then,” he made a whistling sound while he exhaled, eyes raking over your body, “Then by all means,” he leaned closer to you, a mischievous smile planting itself on his face, “Count me in,”
“Castin!” the Baroness laughed lightly and gently pushed Castin away, ignoring his playfulness. “I was enjoying relaxing with you, to be honest.”
Castin looked at his wife with a tender expression. And the two settled into a comfortable silence. The Baroness moved closer to him, and Castin took this as his cue to lift his arm up, allowing the Baroness to move closer, draping an arm across his chest.
The pair laid like this for a while, enjoying the happiness of the morning. Castin was unsure if his wife had fallen back asleep, but a question was persistent in his mind.
“Sweetheart?” he asked. He felt the Baroness’s head lift slightly against the crook of his arm.
“Hmm?” she hummed lazily, a quietness in her voice he hadn’t often heard. Her eyes were still closed, looking as if she was drifting on the brink of sleep. Her eyelashes rested softly on her cheek. She looked beautiful.
“What did you do before I woke up?”
The Baroness propped herself up lightly, looking up at her husband while blinking away her lingering drowsiness.
“This,” she said, as she rested her head on one of her hands, and began tracing a faint scar on Castin’s chest.
Castin looked at her- confused- for a good second before he understood what she was doing with her finger on his chest.
“Oh..,” he said eyes widening, “Why..why are you doing that, babe?”
A nervous laugh accompanied his words. Upon hearing his hesitant tone, her hand retracted.
“I’m sorry, I was-“ she began, feeling confused and a bit embarrassed. She had never been the best at expressing affection, and when she had awoken, and seen the scars that decorated his skin, she had felt a strange urge to trace those lines of his past. But as she spoke, she was cut off abruptly.
“No- no. You’re good. You’re good. I just-,” his hand rose and ruffled his dark hair, his eyes crossed the room as he took a breath, “No one’s done that before. It…it hit pretty close to home.”
His hand gently rose from his side, placing her hand back on his chest softly. His wife’s finger reached for one of the scars, and she looked up at him, waiting patiently for an unspoken permission. Castin looked at his wife tenderly and gave a nod, a love struck smile beginning to creep on his face. Seeing the gentle look in his eyes, and looking down at how the light from the rising sun shone on his chest, her finger landed softly on one of the scars.
“Yeah, go ahead, babe. I’m all yours,” he said with a relaxed breath.
The Baronesses finger started to move along the faint light line on his skin, from what she assumed was a strike of a sword. After she had traced the mark multiple times, her finger quickly found another one. This one was more obvious.
“If you don’t mind my asking, Castin, how did you get this one?” she said quietly. Castin’s head tilted slightly in response to her question, thinking.
“One of my first training days, actually. Yeah, me and the rest of the men got pretty banged up. No sweat though, it’s all good now sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he replied, kissing the top of the Baronesses head lovingly.
The Baroness continued, gently pressing kisses to some of them. Castin laid there, exposed in what felt like more ways than one. Yes, his body was sprawled on the bed, basking in the warmth of the morning; but there was a vulnerability and an intimacy to what the Baroness was doing. One that he hadn’t felt before. Yes, he’d been with women. But none of them had done this. None of them had gazed lovingly at his scarred body, tracing her fingers lightly upon them with a gentleness and comfort that it felt like it could only be a gift from the Goddess herself. None of them had pressed their sweet lips to the marks of his past, tracing the lines as if she could relieve him of all past pain. All while she too was lying on their shared bed, body intertwined with his. He knew his wife was a busy woman. That wasn’t hard to figure out. But in these moments, moments where she too let down her guard and in the process just brought his down more, he felt truly whole. Being without her would be the greatest wound he could ever receive now. Not any battle injury, not any training mistake, nothing. He had seen ugliness in the world, hell, he’d witnessed it first hand. He’d been a part of bloody and dangerous battles, gone on spine-chilling missions, seen people die and his own friends die with them. His mother had been killed by war.
Yet in this moment, despite the cold and rain that had been his life, he could only feel sunshine. A content joy, rays of sunlight filtering through clouds, like the beams that covered him and his wife at that very moment.
“How did you get this one, dear?” his wife asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. He adjusted to turn towards her more, smiling to himself. In the Baronesses eyes, it was one that rivaled the sun itself. He was the sun in her world too.
“Well, it was one of my first battles..,” and Castin continued on, telling her the tale of how he had earned that one. His tales continued all throughout the morning. Laughter and tears would follow, filling the walls of the room with the rest of the light from the sun as it finally finished rising.
In the midst of all the dark of the world, the two had found each other, exposed each other’s scars, and made sunlight out of their lives.
“A soul that’s born in cold and rain- knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight” -Sunlight by Hozier
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anyway, this one's more recent. I read one of Lady Monotone's fanfictions (btw check them on ao3, their amazing) where baroness (their oc) wore a pink dress and I couldn't leave the image in my head. The dress looks nothing like the one in the ff but I think I still gotta mention my source of inspiration 😅
An umbrella that relates to stories passed down through generations, forests, feather quills, cardigans, potted plants on windowsills, sun shining on lakes, and the feeling of melancholy ! Any type of term can fall under this umbrella, including gender, orientation, presentation, etc.!
castian - a castilancha person.
castilinity - the equivalent of femininity/masculinity/etc.
castilane - the equivalent of feminine/masculine/etc.
CASTIN - castilancha-in-nature.
transcastilin - transitioning to castilinity
please tag us if you make anything under this umbrella!!
(This picture reminds me of how I envisioned Omorose’s eye color to look like. If that makes sense)
It’s been weeks since the Baroness accepted the low effort proposal and since then the planning of the wedding has commenced! King Rhett had hired planners, cooks,bakers, florists, tailors and dress makers for the occasion. Omorose signed off on the colors, the flowers, the cake and the design of her wedding gown! Any other notes and thoughts the planner thought were needed was addressed by either Aurelia or Nina when the Baroness was simply to busy with matters she actually cared for.
With her proposal and notes stored away in a leather folder tucked safely under her arm Omorose navigated her way towards Rhett’s office. She had already run her idea through Aurelia who encouraged her to take it to Rhett, seeming hopeful of the idea working. Heels ‘clicking!’ Echoing through the halls as she got closer to the office door alerting those who lounged and waited outside of Rhett’s door . All focus going to her as she gracefully maneuvered her way between the crowded makeshift waiting room.
A soft “Excuse me.” And a polite smile making it’s way to her lips.
“If it isn’t the Commander’s Bride!” A gruff voice hummed to close in the Baroness’s ear. Cringing Omorose took a step back “Please refer to me as The Baroness-”
“We don’t do titles here, Imperial!” Another spoke up in disgust.
Biting her tongue The Baroness nods in understanding. “Then refer to me by my name.”
“Omorose…Rolls off the tongue real nice and sweet.” The gruff voice snickers leaning against the wall beside King Rhett’s office door.
“Our commander is a lucky man! Am I right?!”
A Symphony of voices agreed sizing Omorose up in the wine colored dress she wore. She rolled her eyes feeling their gaze study the way the material hugged her body like a glove.
“Never seen a beautiful woman before?” She teased hiding her annoyance as she knocked on the King’s door.
“We have! They just don’t look like you.” The man with the gruff voice smirked flirtatiously.
“I’m flattered!” Omorose sarcastically replied just as Castin opened the door.
“Sweetheart,” he greeted peering down at her, copying what his soldiers were just doing “Looking stunning as always.” He compliments blocking the entry way. His charming smile would’ve had others cheering and turning red but Omorose ill feelings towards Castin blocked those cues.
“I’m flattered.” Omorose repeated in a tone that lacked any emotion, avoiding all eye contact with the Commander. Since that day where she tried to play that game Rhett suggested to her to get to know Castin better she felt it was useless to waste any energy and time on Castin. He made attempts at conversation and trying to have lunch or dinner with her but she coldly shut down each not in the mood for any crude jokes and sexual advances she was sure he would make.
“Excuse me. I’ve requested King Rhett’s audience.” She states standing patiently until Castin moved aside after studying her face for a few seconds.
“Right this way Sweetheart,” Castin ushered her in dramatically “It’ll just be a few more minutes and then we’ll head out to breakfast,” Castin told his soldiers closing the door.
Rhett stood up welcoming Omorose into his office. “Please take a seat!” He encourage pointing to the empty one next to the one Castin took occupancy in.
“I rather stand-”
Castin couldn’t help but, to snort at the refusal, feeling anything but insulted. “Think I have cooties?” He asked snickering. His eyes never leaving her standing form, obnoxiously admiring her curves, something Rhett glared at him for.
“Here is my the proposal of the program I’m sure Queen Aurelia has told you about.” Omorose continued ignoring Castin as if he wasn’t a short step away.
“Oh yes! I’ve been intrigued since she told me a bit about it. Children are more Capable than adults in certain situations and I believe this is a situation where they will succeed better than us,” Rhett held out his hand for the folder.
“What program?” Castin demanded finally taking his gaze off Omorose to set it on Rhett.
“The Baroness thinks it’s best if both Imperial and Intacian children have a space to learn both of our cultures and histories-”
“With out sugar coating any of it! It’s important not to hide anything or coddle anyone.” Omorose stressed to Rhett.
“If we get the right teachers and willing parents and children we can ensure that the future you’re trying to secure between Intacia and the Empire can happen. The only way we can move forward is to learn and be open minded. If the adults can’t do it maybe the children can inspire them.”
Castin sat silently watching and listening to Rhett and Omorose go over the Program she wanted to start. It was clear she was very intelligent and not blind to the history between their countries. Her actively wanting to be hands on in the process of change was a side he never really expected to witness. Sure Aurelia mentioned Omorose funding aid but he thought she did it as a lazy attempt to look like a good person.
‘She’s serious about this.’ He thought taking in the determination and passion she had in her eyes. The raw emotion behind her eyes stirred something in him yet again.Something he has yet to understand but it keeps gnawing at him. It was like air was knocked out of him but at the same time he felt like air was filling him and making him weightless. It was too weird for him to put in words.
‘There’s no way Rhett could say no.’ He thought casting an admiring gaze at her proud smile.
“Commander!” A following knock made a frown appear on the Baroness’s lips the words she was in the middle of saying getting cut off rudely.
“Right! Breakfast. I have to go before they decide to break down your door next Rhett,” Castin joked standing from his seat. His muscles stretching aching from pushing his soldiers and himself more this morning.
Rhett waved him off dismissively knowing he would see the man later that day“Enjoy breakfast.” He tells him reading over the budget Omorose had set.
Before leaving he bids a farewell to Omorose which fell on deaf ears. Rolling his eyes Castin opened the door leaving without another word. Normally Castin wouldn’t bother after being ignored once by a woman but there was just something about Omorose. Despite her treating him as if he wasn’t there in her presence he still wanted her attention
“Y’all are like hangry ducks!” Castin huffs leading the group off towards where the carriages were.
“You said you were paying! It’s not our fault you were trying to skip out on us to hang out with your fiancée.”
Appalled at what was said Castin scoffs “Trust me she’s no fun! Girls like her are too reserved and a tight ass-”
“Oh but I thought the Commander enjoyed a tight ass.” Joked a female soldier in the group.
“Ha ha! Raven!” Castin sarcastically replied with a laugh at the clever input.
“I don’t know Castin, if my woman looked anything like yours I would be canceling at the drop of a hat.”admitted Dutton biting his lips as he relieved the moment he saw Omorose in the red dress she wore.
“The way that dress was hugging her I would’ve been stuck to her like flies are stuck in honey- and those eyes!” Dutton whistled. Castin stopped turning to Dutton as the rest of the group looked on waiting to see their Comander’s reaction.
“Could make a man-”
“And woman!” Raven cuts in leading to Dutton to tilt his head in acknowledgment
“Could make us fall to our knees!” He finish. The rest of the group mumbled in agreement making Castin raise an eyebrow.
The group felt mighty free to just causally explain their attraction to the Baroness. Sure Castin was nice and saw them as friends but was boundaries not common like sense.
“She’s got y’all under her spell, huh?” He asked crossing his arms over his chest.
“Those lips!-”
“Don’t push it, Kayce.” Castin warned pointing a stern finger his way. Kayce smirked at the fact he easily gotten his Commander riled up. He held up his hands in mock defense. “I’m just saying! I would yeet myself into a body of water if it meant she would have to be the one to give me CPR.” Kayce laughs
“I get it guys she’s beautiful!” Castin says as he starts to lead the group to the transportation he requested. “But telling me-her soon to be Husband might I remind you- all of this is level 9 audacity.” Castin laughs.
“Apologies-”
“No need! I can’t blame you,” Castin began nudging Dutton playfully “She’s been blessed by the Goddess.”
The bright midday sun made the sea of colorful flowers look more vibrant. So perfect it was almost like someone took time to paint each flower petal perfectly. The gorgeous garden quickly came to be Omorose’s favorite place to get a moment’s peace of fresh air as she read her book. She enjoyed the gentle fragrance of the combining scents each plant contributed but, her favorite by far was the Peonies. Their beauty was something she had admired since she was little.
With the program approved by King Rhett and Aurelia and Nina handling the little things for the upcoming wedding Omorose found the opportunity to sneak off when no one needed her.
Her current book ‘Myths and Legends of Greece’ in her hands as she fawned over each word of the story ‘Perseus and Andromeda’ her mind painted a picture of a winged horse, a woman with snakes for hair and a hunting deadly gaze, a beautiful princess being sacrificed to a sea monster and a Demi god coming to rescue her after falling in love with her instantly. Her vivid imagination creating a whole new world around her she could’ve sworn she could hear the sea monsters body turn to stone. The squeals and crackling is settling stone so clear she didn’t notice she was being watched from a far. The words Rhett were saying floated in the air as Castin starred at the Baroness reading her book.He snorts a smile grazing his lips. He found it cute how she found joy in something so simple as books. From what he noticed from afar, from all of his attempts at trying to get to know her is that he could tell when she got to the good parts of the book. The way her eyes light up and her lips curl into a tiny almost nonexistent smile you could only catch if you truly paid attention was a dead giveaway each time. Something he also noticed was that she go through books quickly. He’s seen her with like 3 different books in a span of 2 weeks.
“Do you understand me, Brother?” Rhett demands noticing how Castin turned his attention towards his intended.
Rhett slouched his shoulders a sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head “It’s a shame.” The older man begin ‘tsking’ knocking his left shoulder against Castin’s right.
“Huh?”
“I think this is your first crush you had since you were that 17 year old new recruit.” Rhett hummed amused no longer caring about the topic he brought up prior.
“Crush? Rhett I’m a 27 year old man. I don’t do crushes.”
“So why are you starring down the Baroness?”
“She’s intriguing? Whenever you see her there’s a book in her hand! I can’t imagine anyone enjoying reading that much.”
“I once knew of a little boy who spent his days reading-”
“I was a child.” Castin huffed annoyed instantly when Rhett brought up the past.
“Maybe you need to rekindle your childhood love for reading. Maybe then you and the Baroness can be cordial-”
“I’m making the effort! It’s not my fault she’s ignoring me-”
“I too would ignore the person that humiliated and disrespected me twice. Have you even genuinely apologized for the lingerie and your inappropriate advances?”
Castin looked down remembering the time he apologized to the Baroness. It was just before the sunset. He was making his way towards the kitchen to see what the cooks were preparing for dinner when he felt a strong yank of his ear. He lost his footing before he easily removed the hand of who ever was bold enough to grab him like that. That’s when he met Nina’s cold gaze. His mouth screwed shut, the look in Nina’s eyes reminding him of his mother’s when she was furious at him.
Foul words and insults that would’ve made a sailor blush flew from Nina’s mouth so eloquently Castin thought she was a poet. The tongue lashing he received over the whole lingerie gift was brutal and had Castin feeling like a little boy who couldn’t do anything but listen and sulk. “You’re going to apologize to Omorose, or so help me, Goddess! I’ll make you wish you could climb back into your mother’s womb.”
“Oh I apologized! Nina made sure of it!” Castin grimaced.
“Rosie!”
“Rosie!”
The sound of two children caught the adult’s attention. A 10 year old boy and his 6 year old sister following just behind with a bundle of wild flowers heading straight towards the Baroness. Castin raised an eyebrow silently wondering why Intacian children were so eager to see his fiancée.
The scene before him made his heart melt. Omorose closed her book with a gentle smile as bright as the sun as she welcomed the two to join her. She accepted their hugs and gushed over their gift. Her reaction making the two Intacian children ecstatic. He couldn’t hear what was being said but he could tell it was kind words the way the children smiled at her. And then the boy curiously picked up the book Omorose was reading his head tilting in wonder. The way Omorose looked at him keenly before she encouraged him to take a seat next to her.
“See Brother! She’s nothing like the other Imperials.” Rhett pointed out as he too watched as Omorose plopped the little girl on the other side of her. With an excited smile Omorose opened her book and began reading to them happily. Glad she could encourage their love for books.
“So you were right!” Castin admitted, taking in the boy’s look of fascination. It reminded Castin of when he was that age, head stuck in a book as the words morphed into live scenes. It made him long for it back.
“Maybe now you’ll actually try to get to know her instead of getting under her dress.”
A few more months had passed and the days were spent with Castin trying to get in Omorose’s circle.
Under the guise of ‘to keep an appearance up’ he sat through lunches and little social gatherings where he tried to join in the conversation but was ignored and silenced. A mighty warrior suddenly felt small like the little boy he used to be who couldn’t fit in outside of his own small circle.
He had to admit Omorose was more than he thought her to be. Not only was she beautiful and intelligent she was also kind, and warm and he wanted so badly to experience her kindness and warmth. Something he hasn’t received from a woman in a long time other than Lilia. Because of his reputation women automatically try and succeeded in getting him physically but, as the wedding neared closer he realized he didn’t want just sex. Nina’s lashing words finally made sense to him. “Do you think it’s an honor to only be wanted for your body when you have so much more to offer? She’s seen people countlessly lusting after her! Be kind enough to show her something other than lust.”
He wanted more than just sex and he wanted it with the only woman who wasn’t swayed by his looks and Charm but luck seemed to passed him by because she keeps shutting him out.
He craved her attention, everytime he saw her looking so vibrantly beautiful he wanted to embrace her. He wanted to be let in like a lonely stray who longed for a home.
Castin didn’t know what he could do. He apologized months ago she couldn’t still be angry over that. Could she? And in his own way he has been kind. It was like Omorose was determined to be the object of his desires, desires he could never obtain because of how far away they were.
In mere hours he was going to be her husband and he has yet to even get her to smile at him. It was crazy how he has women falling to his feet and now he was pining for the Baroness so much so he was so close to falling on his knees at her feet.
Nina stepped back her tear filled eyes in awe as she gazed at Omorose in her wedding dress.
“We’ve talked about this moment and now it’s finally happening. You look stunning.” She gushed guiding Omorose to a mirror.
The Baroness’s breath was caught in her own throat at the sight of herself.
“It’s really happening…” she spoke to herself. “You’re going to be a wife.”
Silence fell over the room for a short moment and then with tears welled up in her eyes the Baroness cried “This is a mistake! I can’t do this! I’m going to end up just like them-”
“The bride is getting cold feet!” Aurelia announced rushing over to her friend with a tissue.
“If you want to run I’ll be right by your side-”
“I doubt there would be any running! All those Intacian Soldiers out there look very ready for anything.” Anree cuts Nina off rolling her eyes. “But if we have to fight our way out of here I’m all in.” She grins downing the Champagne Rhett bad gifted to the Bridal Party.
“End up like who?” Lilia questioned from the vanity she sat behind.
“Like her parents! They were the worse with and without each other.” Anree stated casually causing Lana to harshly nudge her “Not helping”she hissed.
“I was so blinded by wanting to help change things I didn’t realize I offered myself up to my worse fear to do it.”
“No! Don’t cry.” Nina cooed soaking the end of a tissue with Omorose’s tears that gathered at her waterline.
Frowning Lilia states “I know you and Castin got off on a bad start but once you get to know him he’s very kind-”
“Sure-”
“He is!” Lilia glared at Anree who snorted in return.
“Sure whatever you say…”
“Look Baroness, I don’t know how your parents marriage was and how they treated each other but, if you were to give Castin another chance I promise you won’t regret it.” Lilia urged. She noticed the change Castin had over the months when it came to the Baroness. She could tell that the man she grew up with was in love.
“I understand that you’re scared but it’s a little too late to back out now! Both kingdoms are relying on this marriage.” Aurelia reminded frowning at the wild look of panic in Omorose’s eyes.
“We need unite our kingdoms before another war breaks out.”
“Okay.” The Baroness breathes out.
“Okay?” Aurelia asked wanting a confrontation. Omorose nodded “yes! For the kingdoms!”
