#juleia

[altheia-featherstone]

Julian and Altheia in this picrew.

[lunastarhawk]

My Valentines

Julian and Altheia

Of course I wasn't going to let valentines day go past without some Juleia posting.

Commission by ladywarlock03 that I've been using as the cover art for Tides of Memories :)

The 'courtship' was long(ish) when Theia was Julian's apprentice. Much shorter in the Arcana's route timeline (she really did pin him down that night at Maz's place). And even shorter the very first time they met. They do be horny.

Fics

(all 18+)

Between the Deep Blue Sea and the Devil - Rewrites of some of my favourite scenes from Julian's route, mostly for the smut.

Past the Midnight Sun - A few little one-shot somethings, a bit of smut and a bit of fluff.

Tides of Memories - Julian and Altheia's post-route saga.

Playlist

Picrews

[talesofgracelesstexts]

[lunastarhawk]

Julian and Altheia have had four first kisses.

[lunastarhawk]

"To the beach!" (Iykyk)

Gacha Club sillies

[lunastarhawk]

You can just have it

“You don’t need to earn affection, Julian.  You can just… have it.”

I tripped and 2300 words of fluff fell out, oops.

Part of the Between the Deep Blue Sea and the Devil collection of Altheia-flavoured rewrites of particular scenes in Julian's route. This is the scene at Portia's cottage in Book VIII chapter 3. Wasn't sure whether to post it as it feels personal to me but the collection wouldn't be complete without it, so here it is.

Important note! This is angst-scented fluff but the full collection on AO3 contains scenes that are very 18+, please don't go there if you're a minor.

For a while, as Altheia had sat with Julian and Portia, listening to Julian’s tales of adventure and Portia’s childhood stories, the light-hearted bickering between the siblings, and tentative thoughts of the future, she almost forgot why they were there.  That they’d had to escape from the library after nearly being caught there by the Countess; that Julian had a key in his pocket that he couldn’t remember but which he knew was important somehow ; that he was a fugitive, on the run for murder.  That she, hired by the Countess to bring Julian to justice, was instead helping him; and if they were caught, she could hang on the gallows alongside him.  

But here, sitting on benches outside Portia’s cottage, laughing and eating in the warm evening air, that all seemed distant.  They were family.  They were home.  And Julian was happy .  With every smile, every laugh, every pantomimed offence taken at Portia’s stories, and every theatrical gesture accompanying his stories, the fondness and affection that Altheia felt for him grew, her heart swelled.

Eventually, Portia left them and went to bed.  Altheia looked over at Julian.  Leaning back against the wall of the cottage, the soft light of the fireflies dancing over his features, his hand running idly over Pepi, Portia’s cat, curled up on his lap.  The corners of his mouth were slightly lifted in a smile of contentment as he, too, just for a moment, forgot the truth of their situation.  The auburn curls of the forelock of his hair drifted down over his right eye, his eyelids were dark and heavy, the breeze ruffling the collar of his shirt against his long, pale neck.

He was beautiful.

With a sigh, he turned to look at her, the back of his head still against the wall.  He looked into her eyes for a moment, contemplatively, and then he lifted his arm towards her in tentative invitation.  Pepi stretched and jumped off his lap as Altheia sat beside him, he draped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her close, and she slipped her hand inside the open front of his shirt, spreading her fingers through the soft hairs, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the strong and steady beat of his heart.  She felt his nose brush along the centre part of her hair, his lips press a kiss there.

“This is nice,” she said eventually.

“Mmm.  It is.”  His hand moved to her thigh, and a heat rose up in her.  But that heat was quenched as quickly as it had risen when he said, “Shame it can’t last.”

“Can’t it?”

“Can it?”

Altheia pushed back from him, rest a hand on his cheek and turned him to face her.  A shadow of sorrow had passed over his countenance, and she sighed softly as his gaze dropped.

She slid slightly along the bench away from him, then patted her lap.

“Come here.  Lie back.”

He blinked at her in surprise, then smiled and twisted around, pulling up his legs to rest booted feet on the bench and laying on his back, resting his head in her lap and wriggling in until he was comfortable, one leg bent up, the other dangling off the edge of the bench.  Altheia returned her hand to his chest, the other in the thick waves of his hair.  Silence fell between them, as Altheia slowly ran his hair between her fingers, lightly scraped his scalp with her short nails, looking down fondly as his eyelids slid shut.

“If I was a cat, I’d purr,” he murmured sleepily.  And then, despite not being a cat, he made a sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth that did sound remarkably like a purr, and Altheia laughed.

After a few minutes, he quietly said,

“I wish it could.”

“Hmm?”

“Last.  I wish it could last.  I wish… I wish I was a better man.  Someone who deserved it.”

A lump of sorrow rose to Altheia’s throat, and she brushed Julian’s hair back from his forehead.  She ran her forefinger along the top edge of his eye patch, eyebrows raised questioningly when he looked at her.  He nodded with an uncertain smile, and she gently removed the patch.  Julian blinked and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand as it adjusted to the light.  Now, when he looked back at her, she could see the depths of both of his eyes, the crimson sclera that many feared or found shocking but which she saw as a scar of a battle he’d fought and won, of his strength.

“What do you want?” she asked.  “When this is all over, when we’ve found the truth, proved that you didn’t kill the Count, proven to you that you didn’t do the bad things that you think you did.  What then?”

“What do I want?  What does it matter what I want?”

Altheia ran her finger down Julian’s jaw, along his bottom lip.  “You’ll have to do something .  Go somewhere.  Be someone.”

A faint frown touched his brow.  “I uh.  I don’t know.  I've never thought about it.  I was sure I'd hang , and there's not much of a future after your neck snaps, you know.”

Altheia tutted disapprovingly.  And then waited, her fingers lightly tracking the sharp contours of his face, watching the thoughts running behind Julian’s eyes as he looked up at the stars.

Eventually, he tentatively started,

“Do you think…”  He shook his head as if frustrated with himself.  “No, I couldn’t.  No.  I can’t think like that.”

“Humour me.”

“Hmm?”  He looked up at her, puzzled.

“Pretend that you think you can .  What do you want?”

“This.”  His voice was very small, strained, as if he didn’t dare to hope.  “I want this.  With you, and… and what Pasha has.  A…  a home.”

He closed his eyes, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. 

Altheia smiled gently, resting her palm over his cheek.  He sighed and nuzzled into it.  Her heart pounded with a kind of excitement, a surge of nervous happiness that he’d said he wanted her .  Almost without thinking, so self-absorbed that he hadn’t even realised the effect his words could have on her.

“Why can’t you have it?”

“I don’t deserve it.  I’ve done nothing to earn your… your affection, your feelings, for me, whatever they may be.”

“You don’t need to earn affection, Julian.  You can just… have it.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a small, sad smile.  “Is that so.”

It wasn’t a question, not really.  It was a statement that she was wrong, that it wasn’t so, that he couldn’t just have affection.  Altheia looked down at him, at his head cradled in her lap.  His gaze drifted, breath exhaled in a soft sigh through his nose.

“Yes, Julian.  It’s so.”

He turned his eyes back up to her with a slight shake of his head, almost as if pitying her naivety.  The fingertips of his left hand brushed over the backs of her knuckles, of the hand resting on his chest.  There was a wistfulness to his tone as he quietly said,

“My dear, everything has to be earned one way or another.”

Her heart ached for him.  She turned her hand over and curled her fingers around his.  Only then did she realise how rare it was for one or other of them to not be wearing gloves.  Of course, his were to cover the murderer’s brand on the back of his left hand; but he didn’t need to hide it from her.  Now, she ran her fingertips in slow circles around his large, cool palm, tracing the lines, creases and callouses of a life lived.  With another faint sigh, he brought her hand to his lips.  Seizing the moment, with one eyebrow raised, she said,

“Do I have to earn it?”

Julian froze with his lips against her knuckles, eyes wide as he looked up at her.

“N-no?  No!  No of course you don’t.”  His lips moved against her skin.  “You deserve it, unconditionally.  And… from someone better than me.”

She shook her head, lips curving in a slight smile as she combed her free hand through his thick hair.

“Better?  Who would be ‘better’?”

His eyes dropped, his expression melancholy.  “Anyone.”

“I don’t want ‘anyone’.”  It was her turn now to raise his hand to her lips.  She couldn’t convince him that there wasn’t anyone better , not for her.  But she wanted to make him see that she saw all the things that he perceived as his flaws and imperfections, and she didn’t just want him in spite of them, but because of them, because there were many other facets to him, many things that were perfections , and every little part of him, the good and the bad, were what made him, him .  There was no shadow without light.

His gaze turned up to hers again, surprised, confused, but… hopeful .  

“You… you want…”

Altheia smiled, nodded.  There were probably words she should say, something affirming, reassuring.  But instead, she placed his hand over her heart, and placed her hand over his heart, feeling its pace pick up in sync with hers.  A kind of wonder came to Julian’s grey eyes, and Altheia bent and brushed her lips over his, feeling his shuddering breath.  

“Yes, Julian.”  Her voice was low, velvety.  “I want you to have my affection.  All of it.  And the only thing I ask in return…”  She pressed her lips more firmly against his.  “... is yours. ”

“You have it,” he said on a gasp, his voice and eyes earnest in their promise.  He seemed to choke a little, and then repeated her words back to her.  “All of it.  All of… of me .”

His hand hooked around the back of her neck as she bent down the rest of the way to kiss him with as much affection as she could manage.  His body trembled beneath hers, small noises escaped his lips and tripped over her tongue as she swept it gently over his.

Eventually she pulled up, looking down into dusk-grey eyes as her thumb stroked his cheekbone.  She was suffused with warmth, a feeling that they’d ignited something , committed themselves.  

A lump rose to her throat as Julian held onto her hand over his heart, as if he thought that if he let her go, he’d lose her.  

“I’m not going to leave you,” she told him with a warm, reassuring smile.  “I…”

I love you .

The thought came to her from a pulse of her heart that flooded every part of her with a warmth and certainty that the embers burning between them since they’d met, had ignited into something more, but that it wasn’t new .  It was right .  It was a coming home after a long journey.  It was waking up in strong arms after a nightmare.  It was a love that had always been, and always would be.

But she couldn’t say it.  It was too much, when Julian had only just accepted affection , to expect him to believe that she loved him.  More, she couldn’t expect him to return her feelings.

So all she said was,

“I want to be with you.  I haven’t felt myself for three years.  And I don’t know who I was before.  But what I do know is that this…”  She laced her fingers with his, their hands over his chest, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart.  “This is right .  There was something between us before.  I don’t know what it was, and I don’t know why we can’t remember it.  But I think… I belong with you.  I did then.  And I do now.  If you’ll have me.”

Julian looked as if he wanted to speak, taking a deep breath but letting it out soundlessly.  He bit his lip, his eyes shimmered.  Suddenly he sat up, and Altheia panicked that she’d said too much, that he’d push her away, repeat his assertion of the night before, that he was a terrible person who’d only hurt her.

“I’m sorry…” she said hastily.

But Julian only shifted so he sat beside her, his hip and thigh pressing against hers, and his arm wrapped around her front, gently tugging her to twist at the waist to face him.  He was still trembling, little whimpers and fragments of words escaping him, and the fingers of his left hand entangled in her hair and held her as his mouth moved against hers.  She leaned into him, one hand snaking up into his hair, the other around his back, pulling him close.  His right hand rested in the curve of her waist, slender fingertips pressing against her flesh and making a spark of pleasure ripple through her.

“Altheia…”  His voice was a hoarse, shuddering whisper against her lips as he pulled back just an inch, just enough that his eyes could meet hers.  “I’m yours.”

She felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks, couldn’t stop a delighted smile.  

“And I’m yours.”  She laughed softly.  “And you’re mine?”

“Yes.”  Julian’s smile was unreserved, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  “I’m yours, and… and you’re mine.”

“You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

They laughed together then, eyes closing, foreheads resting against each other, arms wrapped around them, shirts gliding over skin beneath restless hands.  Altheia didn’t know how long it would take to solve the Count’s murder.  She didn’t know exactly what their future looked like.  Much was uncertain.  But she did know that her feelings ran deep, she believed that Julian’s did, too, and that their future, whatever and wherever it may be, would be together .  Even if he didn’t quite believe it yet, she knew it.  

She loved him.

[lunastarhawk]

WiP (or proof of life) Wednesday

Summer was not conducive to finding time to write, but I'm nearly done with Tides 27 😊

This is essentially one loooonnnnggg rewrite of the epilogue scene from Julian's route. Here's some of it.

They’d already moved some home comforts onto their ship over the past few days, so there wasn’t much to take besides a few changes of clothes. Julian took one last look at the map laid out on the desk; it was the one that he’d once marked the places he wanted to visit, to pick up original pieces of treasures and trinkets he’d once had a collection of copies of. They’d plotted this Nevivon trip upon it, marking the port towns they’d stop off at - including Altheia’s apparent hometown of Port Tremaire.

But that wasn’t their reason for taking the map, and Julian’s lips curved into a soft smile to himself as he carefully rolled it up and placed it in his knapsack. They’d be travelling with Mazelinka, and she certainly didn’t need a map to guide her between ports. They were taking Julian’s map - their map - as a symbol.

It was the same reason that Altheia carefully wrapped Julian’s model ship, which looked remarkably like The Southern Cross, in a sheet of fabric and placed it in a box padded with balls of tissue. A symbol.

The same reason that they had packed Julian’s old coat, black and weather-beaten and oversized, that they’d discovered had been bought by Altheia once upon a time.

A thin folio containing the reports they’d found in Julian’s dungeon office, written in Altheia’s hand, from her time as his apprentice, forgotten.

A small glass jar of bath salts - Nevivon’s finest, scented with vanilla, bergamot and sea salt, a decorative blue ribbon around its neck.

Altheia’s favourite seashells, collected from the beach where they’d spent so much time together, then and now.

Void quartz, the purest quality that Selina could find, a key component in a medicine they’d formulated together that eased the suffering of plague victims.

The gently glowing jade weed, still in its simple pot that Julian had planted it in all those years ago for Altheia, a forgotten gift.

Symbols, all of them. To be used in a ritual to restore Julian’s memories. All packed away in a sea chest, made of varnished mahogany with their initials painted in gold on its lid - A. F. in her neat cursive, J D in his best effort.

One thing remained. Altheia’s hand trembled as she opened the desk drawer and took out the rolled scroll, tied with a red ribbon. On the back of it, something as mundane as a shopping list, one that even Julian himself couldn’t read. But hidden within its tightly spiralling sheet of yellowed notepaper, a promise. Written playfully, signed as a commitment, it seemed. Forgotten, yet fulfilled even so. And since added to.

Altheia was reluctant to unroll it, worried that it might spark Julian’s pain as it had before. But as she turned her eyes to him, she knew she didn’t need to. They both knew what it said, what it meant. It would take on its role as a symbol, a component in a ritual. And Julian would remember it.

Altheia didn’t know if she would ever remember any of these things. But Julian would. These symbols of the life she’d taken from him would give those memories back.

[lunastarhawk]

Beautiful Hands

! NSFW !

If you're under 18 you shouldn't be looking at this because I already flagged it as not being for you, I'm sorry bye bye.

A Julian x Altheia (my oc) NSFW one-shot. Explicit use of Julian's beautiful hands as summed up in emoji reacts in a chat with @rhaella-rhavelli when it was a wip.

Summary

“My hand?” Julian seemed confused, then his eyes widened as he suddenly understood. “My whole hand?”

Yeah. That's the story. Sometimes a girl's gotta take a break from the longfic plot she should be writing, to scribble some self-indulgent uncomplicated porn between two horny people who love each other and their hands very much. I'm back on ToM part 22 now though 😊

Beautiful Hands is on AO3. I posted it together with a softer piece I put on here a few months back.