The Shadows Will Fall, Part One (Gen/Attolia, PG)
I wasn't able to finish my fic for letsgetitdone (though to be fair, I hadn't expected a hurricane to move me out of my home for five weeks beforehand??) and I know that I haven't written anything in fandom in forever but I do still have a Spuffy fic on the backburner! Don't lose hope in me yet! :D
This one's a Queen's Thief fic, going AU near the ( Read more... )
This one's a Queen's Thief fic, going AU near the ( Read more... )
Her Thief is patient in his art but impatient with her attentions, and she needs only wait an extra moment to acknowledge him before he surrenders the calm that unnerves her more than anything else the boy she’d snatched from prison can do to her.
THESE TWO. FROM THE BEGINNING.
Always Your Majesty, never My Queen, and she thinks that that must be the first reason why she still distrusts him, why she is certain that he still serves another. He never speaks of Eddis or other duties, has not made a move to leave her palace even once, yet she remains watchful.
YES YES YES.
Eddis might doom her country, if forced into marriage with Sounis, and there’s a petty part of her that takes savage pleasure in the idea of Eddis, so spoiled by her people’s love, finally trapped in her once-easy royalty. But Attolia would be an overly ambitious Sounis’s final target, and that the Queen cannot permit.
Oh, Attolia. The 'spoiled by her people's love' KILLED ME.
she sets it aside for a moment to inspect the ruby earrings now sitting inconspicuously in the case that holds her headband. “Eugenides,” she says aloud, her eyes narrowed and her spine rigid again.
*dancing with delight*
GEN IN THE TREE LAUGHING DOWN AND THEN GONE YES PLEASE.
He’s below her, not worth her while, and the moment she treats him as an equal, she loses the game.
It’s tricky work, stealing a thief.
UUUUGH LOVE.
She’s momentarily staggered speechless, and he ducks his head and glances up at her through dark lashes. It’s absurd, ridiculous to take it at face value, but then she remembers the earrings that sit in their own box beside her headband’s case. It’s a sham, and he’s a liar, but now his face has steeled into something hard and defiant and she can’t stifle the laugh that his lies have summoned forth.
WHERE DO HIS LIES END AND THE TRUTH BEGIN?
HIS LITTLE PRESENTS OH GEN.
He serves the Queen, not Attolia, and he's a phantom visitor of the night now, creeping through Attolia on her orders with none the wiser.
A shadow thief for the shadow queen.
MY BEAUTIFUL OTP!
She's turned them into weapons, into an expression of ownership when she has no others to tie to him, and there's a part of her that's vaguely uneasy about doing so with him.
Oh, yes!
though she suspects that she notices only because he wants her to, and because he knows that it'll amuse her. He steals from Nahuseresh with savage satisfaction, snatching baubles from his pockets mere moments before the Mede attempts to present them to her, taking his pocket watch and his papers when he'd leave them unattended; and once she'd nearly laughed when Nahuseresh had arrived with a full beard and apologetically informed her that an accident had destroyed all his flasks of hair oil.
GEN YOU CHILD YOU. The youngness of this just kills mead dead I love it so!
until she grabs him by the scruff of his collar and demands to know what amuses him so.
Attolia getting rough with Gen = HOT
She’s cultivated too strong an image, too ruthless for anyone to love her. Men don’t need a queen they can love- they need a queen they would fear, they would tremble from, they would never dare to question.
Her Thief is still staring at her. “You can’t possibly believe that.”
OH IRENE. ♥♥♥
IN HER BEDROOM. AT NIGHT. WHILE SHE SLEEPS. CALLING HER BY HER FIRST NAME.
and Attolia is stricken with a flash of passion so ferocious and invidious that she seizes the arms of her chair, her throat sealed and words powerless to slip through
HELLS YES.
His hand is softer than she’d have imagined, not the fineness of royalty but the gently calloused hands of a master of his craft, and only the white scars at his wrists are any indication of what casualties he’s accrued over the years.
THIS IS SO PERFECT.
“My Queen.” The words skitter out of him so roughly that she can’t imagine that they had been intended, even as she trembles from the power behind them. She should be exultant, a victory at last, her Thief finally half stolen.
I DIED.
I LOVE THIS. THE END.
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