...:D?
I HAVE DONE IT.
That is, written Black Jewels Trilogy fanfiction. Just one so far but there is one in the bowels of my notebook that needs typing up. Mimi, I swear that your Crowley/Aziraphale will be coming soon.
This is totally substanceless fluff, yay.
Lucivar was sitting on a wall, swinging his heels against the bricks and sulking. Of course, he wouldn’t put it that way, but that’s what it was all the same. Daemon was sprawled ungracefully on the ground nearby, examining a flower intently and very much ignoring his brother’s exaggerated sighs.
“I don’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it,” Lucivar said, finally.
“Mmhmm,” Daemon said noncommittally, tugging experimentally on a petal and examining it when it came off.
“It’s not like anything actually happened.”
Daemon glanced upwards at his brother and raised an eyebrow. “Mmhmm.”
Lucivar scowls at his brother’s skeptical expression. “And we’ve done worse than that before.”
Daemon just stares at him and Lucivar frowns. “We have! Don’t look at me like that. Don’t you think he’s overreacting?”
Daemon was silent for a long moment. Finally, he glanced down at the flower, over to the distant house, and back at Lucivar. Then back at the flower. And at Lucivar.
Lucivar fidgets and jumps off the wall, rustling small wings. “Daemon, come on. Aren’t you going to agree with me?”
“No.”
Lucivar turned around and gave Daemon his fiercest glare. “Why not?”
“Because it was a stupid idea in the first place.”
The Eyrien boy puffed up his chest, looking infuriated. “Was not! You went along with it!”
Daemon shrugged. “Well, I guess that makes me stupid too.”
Lucivar stared at his brother, open-mouthed.
“What?”
“I said, I guess that makes me stupid, too. For going along with it.”
Lucivar blinked once or twice. “You’re making fun of me,” he said accusingly. Daemon shook his head, his face almost completely expressionless.
“What kind of older brother would I be if I made fun of you, Lucy?”
Lucivar spread his wings to their full (admittedly rather uninspiring) wingspan. “Daemon, I told you not to call me that!” he said peevishly.
Daemon’s mouth didn’t twitch once as he intoned, “I’m very sorry. I’ll be sure to remember that next time, Lucy.”
Lucivar howled at Daemon and launched himself at his brother. Daemon rolled over and got to his feet and seized the prostrate Lucivar by the neck and proceeded in giving his brother a very thorough noogie as Lucivar continued to flail at Daemon and bellowed threats in a rather unimpressively shrill voice, wings flapping and arms flailing ineffectually. Finally, Lucivar managed to get himself free enough to throw himself on Daemon and they enjoyed a good tussle in the wet grass until Daemon raised his hands and cried, “Surrender, surrender. Lucivar it is.”
Lucivar got up and stalked a little ways away from his brother. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said firmly. Daemon’s mouth twitched a little, but he didn’t laugh, fortunately.
“Okay, Lucivar. You were right that he’s overreacting a little.”
“Told you so.”
“Stop right there or you don’t get any more out of me. But, little brother?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s true. Anyway, Lucivar?”
Lucivar turned around and gave Daemon his fiercest glare. “What?”
“Next time you’re planning on going over a waterfall on a handmade raft? Let me know, first. I’m going to be sore for days.”
Lucivar scowled. “I’m not sorry. You deserved it.”
Daemon laughed. “Well. Now we’ve been effectively kicked out of the house, what are we planning on doing for the next few hours until Manny forgives us?”
“I don’t know,” the offended Eyrien grumbled. “Why don’t you come up with a bright idea for once?”
Daemon’s face splits into a very wide, very wicked grin. “I hoped you were going to say that.”
FIN.
More coming in das editzorz, I hope?
ETA: Yay, more!
Daemon was sitting straight up in bed, shivering, black nails clenched against bare upper arms. The window was wide open and it was pitch black outside, a soft wind blowing and whispering through the leaves. A distant howl bark was answered by another, the wolf pack out for a hunt. The house was utterly silent, the moonlight reflecting off the stone floor in Jaenelle’s room.
Jaenelle. He looked down at her, lying curled on the mattress, a small smile on her lips, her hair tangled and strewn in a golden halo around her head. He felt a strange chill run through him. He knew he should lay back down beside her and close his eyes, go back to sleep. But the very thought of it made him tremble with fear.
He reached out a hand, hesitantly, half wanting to wake her, wanting to understand the half-felt fear lingering from what might have been a dream. But even as he pulled his hand back, not wanting to disturb her, her eyes snapped open and she stared right at him.
“Daemon.” Her voice was soft, and there was a world of meaning in that one word. Relief surged through Daemon and he felt himself slump, letting go of tensions he didn’t even know he’d harbored.
“Jaenelle?”
She sat up and put her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Her body felt warm and safe and secure and alive. Daemon clung to her desperately. “I think I had a dream about you,” he murmured softly. “But I don’t - remember -“
She brushed a hand against his forehead, tenderly. “Daemon,” she murmured in a warning voice.
He took a shuddering breath, feeling the fear return. “I was holding you as tight as I could,” he whispered. “I was, I was, you have to believe me.”
“I do.”
“But you were slipping away - and I begged you to stay but you wouldn’t, and then you were gone and I couldn’t see you anymore.” He looked down. He didn’t want her to see the raw fear in his eyes.
She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “You tried, Daemon. You really did try. I know that.”
He turned his head to look her in the eyes. “But it wasn’t enough.”
Her eyes darkened, just slightly, and he saw the whisper of Witch. “Is it ever?” she murmurs.
He cupped her chin in his hands. “Jaenelle, are you planning something? Something about the war?” He asked her, urgently, searching her face.
The slightest flicker of doubt crossed her eyes, and chasing that, a little bit of sadness. She pulled his hands down and smoothed the sheets, avoiding his face. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
She was silent. “Daemon, I - I can’t tell you. Really, I can’t. I wish I could, but -“
He looked away. She won’t trust him. “Jaenelle, can I ask you one thing?”
She seemed to sense his hurt and he could see her flinch. “If I may answer it.”
“Do you love me?”
She turned her head and gave him a long look. The mask fell from her eyes, and he was staring into deep, dark sapphire depths swirling with sorrow and just the slightest touch of fear. Of him? Oh, Darkness, no. Not of him. And nearer, lighter, acceptance and love.
“Yes, Daemon. I love you.”
“And you promise you won’t leave me?”
A longer hesitation, and when she replied, her eyes were inscrutable. “I won’t leave you alone, Daemon. I promise.”
Daemon stared at her, his stomach turning over nervously. Something was wrong.
She reached out and kissed his lips lightly. “Please, Daemon. Don’t worry. Trust me.”
He gave her a weak smile. “All right, love. I’ll try.”
Jaenelle’s answering smile was warm, and then she laid back down and curled against him, head on his chest. She’s a warm, light weight, her dark presence soothing and safe. She’s safe. She said to trust her. And for now, he will trust her. He will trust his Queen.
~
I should have known, Daemon thought bitterly, staring at the statue in the fountain, and the beast-man crouched over her. I should have known.
And he buried his face in his hands, and cried.
And yes, one more?
The door banged open and Marian heard the stamping of feet on the wooden floor. “Mother Night but it is cold out there,” Lucivar yelled from the outside room. “Don’t go outside, Marian. You’ll freeze in less than a second.”
Marian struggled not to look amused, though of course he couldn’t see her to begin with. “I wasn’t planning on it,” she remarked dryly, looking out the window. Nothing was visible through the sheets of white. She had told her husband that it wasn’t really necessary to go out and get that last loaf of bread - that she really didn’t need the extra pound of flour - or that block of cheese, that really wasn’t a requirement - but he was Lucivar, so of course, he went.
“You said you wanted the groceries,” said a warm voice next to her ear, sounding a little disgruntled, and she looked up at him and gave him a bright smile.
“I did say that. And only a really brave, and strong and wonderful husband would brave a blizzard to get them.”
Lucivar didn’t look convinced, but he called in the flour, the cheese, and the bread, and dropped it on the counter. “That had better last. I think we’re going to be shut in for a bit.”
She examined the flour, then looked over at her husband and looked him up and down, giving him a slightly suggestive smile. “There’s something I don’t mind about this weather.”
Lucivar very nearly blushed. “I brought you a surprise,” he muttered. “But if you’re going to be that way -“
She threw her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. “Oh, Lucivar. Don’t be silly. We’ll get you warmed up, have a nice dinner, and spend a long night getting cozy. It’s not that bad, is it?”
He gave her a wry sideways look. “That depends on which one gets the most time.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m sure I can stretch out the meal, Lucivar.”
He laughed, a low, rich chuckle, and embraced her back. Then, keeping one arm around her, he pulled a large, beribboned box from behind his back and handed it to her with a bow.
She took one look at it and gasped. “Lucivar! You didn’t.” He gave her a broad grin.
She tore the ribbon off the box and tugged it open, looking with wide, bright eyes at a brand new sewing set - and beneath it, a box of rich, dark chocolates. Her eyes welling up, she set the box carefully aside and hugged Lucivar again, giving him a kiss on the cheek, then murmured in his ear.
“With all those chocolates, I’ll have to work extra hard to keep my waistline trim these days inside.”
“Maybe that’s why I got them,” he purred into her ear, teeth just brushing her neck. She lingered for a moment before shoving him back in a chair.
“Sit, you,” she told him sternly. “I’m getting some hot water, and we’ll work on defrosting some Eyrien male. After all,” she said mischievously. “I don’t want you having cold feet tonight.”
Lucivar grumbled, but she could see the gleam in his eyes as he began to work shoes off of his feet. By the time she returned with the hot water, he had both boots and socks off and was leaning back in the chair, eyes closed, looking as if he were napping.
She tapped his shoulder. “Eyes open, sleepy-head, and get that shirt off while you put your feet in the tub. You’re going to get a first class warming by stimulation.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Are you sure that’s not some sort of clever euphemism for slapping me repeatedly or something?”
“Would I do that to my husband?” She asked sweetly.
“Yes.”
She pretended to pout. “Would not. I promise. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Get the shirt off and feet in the water. Grumbling, Lucivar obeyed, and she could feel him shudder as his feet hit the burning hot water. She took his moment of distraction to vanish his shirt and kiss the back of his neck before settling down on a stool and working some warmth back into his shoulders.
“I didn’t know you gave massages.”
“I don’t advertise it. It would be all I did.”
“Mmmm. Probably. Oh - right there.”
She hesitated over a knot of tense muscle, lowering her mouth to kiss the junction of his shoulder and his neck. “Nope, still freezing,” she murmured, and moved her hands up again to run over his back and down his chest with just a slight warming spell on them. She felt the shiver run through his body as he arched his back into her. She moved her hands over his shoulders and onto his chest, drawing him back into her, following every touch with a kiss, on his neck, his shoulders, his face.
Lucivar made a soft noise, his hands twitching slightly at his side, golden eyes closed. Marian moved her hands lower, over his ribcage, down to his abdomen, tracing the contours of stomach muscles with one finger. A soft snarl issues from his slightly open mouth and suddenly he flipped over and pulled her into a fierce, hungry kiss.
When he let her go, she’s panting breathlessly and can’t take her eyes from his warm, golden ones. “What do you say,” he murmured softly, his eyes intent, “That we skip the dinner?”
She barely had the chance to nod before he scooped her up and carried her off to bed.
That is, written Black Jewels Trilogy fanfiction. Just one so far but there is one in the bowels of my notebook that needs typing up. Mimi, I swear that your Crowley/Aziraphale will be coming soon.
This is totally substanceless fluff, yay.
Lucivar was sitting on a wall, swinging his heels against the bricks and sulking. Of course, he wouldn’t put it that way, but that’s what it was all the same. Daemon was sprawled ungracefully on the ground nearby, examining a flower intently and very much ignoring his brother’s exaggerated sighs.
“I don’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it,” Lucivar said, finally.
“Mmhmm,” Daemon said noncommittally, tugging experimentally on a petal and examining it when it came off.
“It’s not like anything actually happened.”
Daemon glanced upwards at his brother and raised an eyebrow. “Mmhmm.”
Lucivar scowls at his brother’s skeptical expression. “And we’ve done worse than that before.”
Daemon just stares at him and Lucivar frowns. “We have! Don’t look at me like that. Don’t you think he’s overreacting?”
Daemon was silent for a long moment. Finally, he glanced down at the flower, over to the distant house, and back at Lucivar. Then back at the flower. And at Lucivar.
Lucivar fidgets and jumps off the wall, rustling small wings. “Daemon, come on. Aren’t you going to agree with me?”
“No.”
Lucivar turned around and gave Daemon his fiercest glare. “Why not?”
“Because it was a stupid idea in the first place.”
The Eyrien boy puffed up his chest, looking infuriated. “Was not! You went along with it!”
Daemon shrugged. “Well, I guess that makes me stupid too.”
Lucivar stared at his brother, open-mouthed.
“What?”
“I said, I guess that makes me stupid, too. For going along with it.”
Lucivar blinked once or twice. “You’re making fun of me,” he said accusingly. Daemon shook his head, his face almost completely expressionless.
“What kind of older brother would I be if I made fun of you, Lucy?”
Lucivar spread his wings to their full (admittedly rather uninspiring) wingspan. “Daemon, I told you not to call me that!” he said peevishly.
Daemon’s mouth didn’t twitch once as he intoned, “I’m very sorry. I’ll be sure to remember that next time, Lucy.”
Lucivar howled at Daemon and launched himself at his brother. Daemon rolled over and got to his feet and seized the prostrate Lucivar by the neck and proceeded in giving his brother a very thorough noogie as Lucivar continued to flail at Daemon and bellowed threats in a rather unimpressively shrill voice, wings flapping and arms flailing ineffectually. Finally, Lucivar managed to get himself free enough to throw himself on Daemon and they enjoyed a good tussle in the wet grass until Daemon raised his hands and cried, “Surrender, surrender. Lucivar it is.”
Lucivar got up and stalked a little ways away from his brother. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said firmly. Daemon’s mouth twitched a little, but he didn’t laugh, fortunately.
“Okay, Lucivar. You were right that he’s overreacting a little.”
“Told you so.”
“Stop right there or you don’t get any more out of me. But, little brother?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s true. Anyway, Lucivar?”
Lucivar turned around and gave Daemon his fiercest glare. “What?”
“Next time you’re planning on going over a waterfall on a handmade raft? Let me know, first. I’m going to be sore for days.”
Lucivar scowled. “I’m not sorry. You deserved it.”
Daemon laughed. “Well. Now we’ve been effectively kicked out of the house, what are we planning on doing for the next few hours until Manny forgives us?”
“I don’t know,” the offended Eyrien grumbled. “Why don’t you come up with a bright idea for once?”
Daemon’s face splits into a very wide, very wicked grin. “I hoped you were going to say that.”
FIN.
More coming in das editzorz, I hope?
ETA: Yay, more!
Daemon was sitting straight up in bed, shivering, black nails clenched against bare upper arms. The window was wide open and it was pitch black outside, a soft wind blowing and whispering through the leaves. A distant howl bark was answered by another, the wolf pack out for a hunt. The house was utterly silent, the moonlight reflecting off the stone floor in Jaenelle’s room.
Jaenelle. He looked down at her, lying curled on the mattress, a small smile on her lips, her hair tangled and strewn in a golden halo around her head. He felt a strange chill run through him. He knew he should lay back down beside her and close his eyes, go back to sleep. But the very thought of it made him tremble with fear.
He reached out a hand, hesitantly, half wanting to wake her, wanting to understand the half-felt fear lingering from what might have been a dream. But even as he pulled his hand back, not wanting to disturb her, her eyes snapped open and she stared right at him.
“Daemon.” Her voice was soft, and there was a world of meaning in that one word. Relief surged through Daemon and he felt himself slump, letting go of tensions he didn’t even know he’d harbored.
“Jaenelle?”
She sat up and put her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Her body felt warm and safe and secure and alive. Daemon clung to her desperately. “I think I had a dream about you,” he murmured softly. “But I don’t - remember -“
She brushed a hand against his forehead, tenderly. “Daemon,” she murmured in a warning voice.
He took a shuddering breath, feeling the fear return. “I was holding you as tight as I could,” he whispered. “I was, I was, you have to believe me.”
“I do.”
“But you were slipping away - and I begged you to stay but you wouldn’t, and then you were gone and I couldn’t see you anymore.” He looked down. He didn’t want her to see the raw fear in his eyes.
She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “You tried, Daemon. You really did try. I know that.”
He turned his head to look her in the eyes. “But it wasn’t enough.”
Her eyes darkened, just slightly, and he saw the whisper of Witch. “Is it ever?” she murmurs.
He cupped her chin in his hands. “Jaenelle, are you planning something? Something about the war?” He asked her, urgently, searching her face.
The slightest flicker of doubt crossed her eyes, and chasing that, a little bit of sadness. She pulled his hands down and smoothed the sheets, avoiding his face. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
She was silent. “Daemon, I - I can’t tell you. Really, I can’t. I wish I could, but -“
He looked away. She won’t trust him. “Jaenelle, can I ask you one thing?”
She seemed to sense his hurt and he could see her flinch. “If I may answer it.”
“Do you love me?”
She turned her head and gave him a long look. The mask fell from her eyes, and he was staring into deep, dark sapphire depths swirling with sorrow and just the slightest touch of fear. Of him? Oh, Darkness, no. Not of him. And nearer, lighter, acceptance and love.
“Yes, Daemon. I love you.”
“And you promise you won’t leave me?”
A longer hesitation, and when she replied, her eyes were inscrutable. “I won’t leave you alone, Daemon. I promise.”
Daemon stared at her, his stomach turning over nervously. Something was wrong.
She reached out and kissed his lips lightly. “Please, Daemon. Don’t worry. Trust me.”
He gave her a weak smile. “All right, love. I’ll try.”
Jaenelle’s answering smile was warm, and then she laid back down and curled against him, head on his chest. She’s a warm, light weight, her dark presence soothing and safe. She’s safe. She said to trust her. And for now, he will trust her. He will trust his Queen.
~
I should have known, Daemon thought bitterly, staring at the statue in the fountain, and the beast-man crouched over her. I should have known.
And he buried his face in his hands, and cried.
And yes, one more?
The door banged open and Marian heard the stamping of feet on the wooden floor. “Mother Night but it is cold out there,” Lucivar yelled from the outside room. “Don’t go outside, Marian. You’ll freeze in less than a second.”
Marian struggled not to look amused, though of course he couldn’t see her to begin with. “I wasn’t planning on it,” she remarked dryly, looking out the window. Nothing was visible through the sheets of white. She had told her husband that it wasn’t really necessary to go out and get that last loaf of bread - that she really didn’t need the extra pound of flour - or that block of cheese, that really wasn’t a requirement - but he was Lucivar, so of course, he went.
“You said you wanted the groceries,” said a warm voice next to her ear, sounding a little disgruntled, and she looked up at him and gave him a bright smile.
“I did say that. And only a really brave, and strong and wonderful husband would brave a blizzard to get them.”
Lucivar didn’t look convinced, but he called in the flour, the cheese, and the bread, and dropped it on the counter. “That had better last. I think we’re going to be shut in for a bit.”
She examined the flour, then looked over at her husband and looked him up and down, giving him a slightly suggestive smile. “There’s something I don’t mind about this weather.”
Lucivar very nearly blushed. “I brought you a surprise,” he muttered. “But if you’re going to be that way -“
She threw her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. “Oh, Lucivar. Don’t be silly. We’ll get you warmed up, have a nice dinner, and spend a long night getting cozy. It’s not that bad, is it?”
He gave her a wry sideways look. “That depends on which one gets the most time.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m sure I can stretch out the meal, Lucivar.”
He laughed, a low, rich chuckle, and embraced her back. Then, keeping one arm around her, he pulled a large, beribboned box from behind his back and handed it to her with a bow.
She took one look at it and gasped. “Lucivar! You didn’t.” He gave her a broad grin.
She tore the ribbon off the box and tugged it open, looking with wide, bright eyes at a brand new sewing set - and beneath it, a box of rich, dark chocolates. Her eyes welling up, she set the box carefully aside and hugged Lucivar again, giving him a kiss on the cheek, then murmured in his ear.
“With all those chocolates, I’ll have to work extra hard to keep my waistline trim these days inside.”
“Maybe that’s why I got them,” he purred into her ear, teeth just brushing her neck. She lingered for a moment before shoving him back in a chair.
“Sit, you,” she told him sternly. “I’m getting some hot water, and we’ll work on defrosting some Eyrien male. After all,” she said mischievously. “I don’t want you having cold feet tonight.”
Lucivar grumbled, but she could see the gleam in his eyes as he began to work shoes off of his feet. By the time she returned with the hot water, he had both boots and socks off and was leaning back in the chair, eyes closed, looking as if he were napping.
She tapped his shoulder. “Eyes open, sleepy-head, and get that shirt off while you put your feet in the tub. You’re going to get a first class warming by stimulation.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Are you sure that’s not some sort of clever euphemism for slapping me repeatedly or something?”
“Would I do that to my husband?” She asked sweetly.
“Yes.”
She pretended to pout. “Would not. I promise. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Get the shirt off and feet in the water. Grumbling, Lucivar obeyed, and she could feel him shudder as his feet hit the burning hot water. She took his moment of distraction to vanish his shirt and kiss the back of his neck before settling down on a stool and working some warmth back into his shoulders.
“I didn’t know you gave massages.”
“I don’t advertise it. It would be all I did.”
“Mmmm. Probably. Oh - right there.”
She hesitated over a knot of tense muscle, lowering her mouth to kiss the junction of his shoulder and his neck. “Nope, still freezing,” she murmured, and moved her hands up again to run over his back and down his chest with just a slight warming spell on them. She felt the shiver run through his body as he arched his back into her. She moved her hands over his shoulders and onto his chest, drawing him back into her, following every touch with a kiss, on his neck, his shoulders, his face.
Lucivar made a soft noise, his hands twitching slightly at his side, golden eyes closed. Marian moved her hands lower, over his ribcage, down to his abdomen, tracing the contours of stomach muscles with one finger. A soft snarl issues from his slightly open mouth and suddenly he flipped over and pulled her into a fierce, hungry kiss.
When he let her go, she’s panting breathlessly and can’t take her eyes from his warm, golden ones. “What do you say,” he murmured softly, his eyes intent, “That we skip the dinner?”
She barely had the chance to nod before he scooped her up and carried her off to bed.