#saintknights

[glimoon]

@saintknights . . . liked for a starter. ↬ for bow .

she promised him mere minutes ago that she would try and get some sleep. a long day of meetings and queenly appearances leaves her fatigued, a sparkly mess of limbs cuddled as close to him as possible. glimmer knows she's kept him up long enough with idle chatter . . . but her mind can't keep itself from racing. or her mouth from moving, apparently. ❛   —   okay, wait, one more thing, ❜ she rolls over onto her stomach, arm propped against bow's chest so she can get a good look at his face. ❛   — and then we can actually go to sleep, i promise.  ❜

earlier today, a young girl had pushed herself through a crowd to stand at her beloved queen's side. with a dreamy look in her eyes, she gazed up at glimmer and asked when she and bow were going to get married. and that was enough to send her into a small, totally not all - consuming spiral that she definitely hasn't been waiting to bring up all day.

❛   so. we're together. ❜ she says as if it's news to him. suddenly, looking him in the eye gets considerably more difficult. the word king vacates her vocabulary entirely. ❛    have you ever thought about . . . what that really means ? like, for your future ? in bright moon ?  ❜

[gunontherun]

@saintknights

“Don’t call me pops, brat - you should have more respect when speaking to your elders. Then again, you get what you give, which explains why no one around here, like that hayner kid, seem to have any respect for you.”

[aldereign]

the stars look different from this world. not because they burn any brighter, no, leia has spent her life among them, felt the hum of hyperspace in her veins like blood, watched whole galaxies spin and fall and rebuild in her wake. she knows stars. she’s danced with them. argued beneath them. kissed a man goodbye under the threat of one. but here, in the strange silver silence of the western lands, the stars feel... quieter. not silent but just ancient. restrained. as if even the constellations are aware they are being watched by something older, colder, sharper than light. [ sesshomaru is not what the galaxy would call a man. she knows this. he is too still. too silent. his power hums like a blade just drawn but never swung — an endless promise of violence she has only seen once, when a demon dared threaten her life and she blinked, and it was dead, and sesshōmaru was already walking away. she had called him arrogant. he had not disagreed. ]

now, there is a ring on her finger. not the kind given in alderaanian custom, braided with crystal from the caves beneath her mother’s mountains, but a thin circlet of pure gold, engraved with a dialect no protocol droid could translate. he had not proposed. he had declared it. she had argued, of course. yelled, paced, demanded time. he had waited, eyes like ice forged in storm, until she returned, and said yes. would she ever had said anything different?

not because he was beautiful (though he is, terrifyingly so). not because he saved her. but because — for the first time since the empire died, since luke had whispered he needed to go — leia had been chosen without hesitation. it almost felt like home again. he looks at her as if he knows she will never bow. and still, he wants her. the palace is always quiet. no droids. no echo of tactical briefings or rebel boots. just the wind in the trees, the distant roar of a beast slain in the forest, and sometimes, only sometimes, the brush of his sleeve beside her own as they walk. ❝ you avoid me, ❞ she tells him, hands taking his. ❝ only in council have i truly heard your voice. what is it you fear? ❞

[ he is not hers. not yet. not really. but he is something like a mirror. something sharp enough to cut through the lie of peace she’s worn for too long. ] & so she stays. and the stars, for now, stay quiet too.

@seisshomaru / @saintknights

[lorulaen]

❛ this, is a story of gods. ❜ from sasuke!

“ even gods fade, if the telling is soft enough. ” hilda has long since lost her trust and belief in the gods. they were the ones responsible for the destruction of her lands, a natural catastrophe, the sages would say. nothing they can do to prevent it, just accept the fate the gods have bestowed upon them. nothing and no one in this mortal world could stand a chance against their powers. a funny thing to say to a nonbeliever. where were those sages and clerics now? were they burning in the deepest depths of hell, waiting for their gods to save them, or had they accepted the fate their gods had bestowed upon them? “ what i have done, i have done for my people, not to be presented as a god to them. gods mean nothing when forgotten. ”

she shifts, the warmth of the sun now stinging her skin. even beautiful things hurt in the end. it was the late hours of the afternoon, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the town. if one believed in the gods, they would thank them for this magnificent view. suddenly curious, hilda turns her attention to her company, his eyes cast on the horizon and their tea long forgotten on the table. “ do you believe in them? the gods? ”

[glimoon]

it's okay. you're safe now. ― ( ACCEPTING! ) ↬ @saintknights . . . from bow.

the worst of what lingers after the war always has something to do with horde prime. the months she spent on his ship felt like centuries, and glimmer fears it will take twice as long to move past it. even now, the palace hallway she's standing in grows just a little too long, becomes just a little too cavernous. her mother's grand mural melts away, and she feels herself transported back to that wretched, sterile place.

his hand, so often sat upon her shoulder, makes her jump. a beam of light simmers behind her closed fist. her gut tells her its a horde clone come to drag her back to her cell . . . but every other part of her body knows damn well it's bow. glimmer deflates, shoulders sagging, and lets out a deep breath.

❛   — sorry. i didn't even hear you coming.   ❜ he's giving her that look ! that i'm worried about you look she both loves and hates so much. ❛   i'm fine ! really.   ❜

stars, trying to lie to him about stuff like this is such a waste of time. glimmer relents, knowing she doesn't have to be a picture - perfect queen when it's just the two of them. sparkle - dusted cheek comes to rest upon his shoulder, her eyes returning to the artwork of her mother watching them.

❛    it's just — ? it's like my brain is still there sometimes.   ❜ so she focuses on what she can feel rather than what she can think. his armor is cool to the touch, but his skin is warm. ❛   but i feel better now than i did, like . . . well, two or so minutes ago.  ❜

[goldenzel]

☀︎ the land outside. the world is impossibly wide, and so was his smile. she hadn’t meant to fall so fast : wasn’t that how all the stories began? a bookmark in the fairy tales once gifted by her mother. but there he was, in the flesh — wild in a way that made her laugh, rogue in the way of forgotten princes, and like the tale of a story brought to life. [ something so kind of him. so very kind. ] how he never called her silly for staring at the stars, never flinched when she cried over lanterns or the softness of grass beneath her bare feet. he'd tease, of course [ always ] but he never seemed to stray far from her. as the sky lit up with floating lights, rapunzel leaned closer, her voice hushed in awe. “ they’re even more beautiful than I imagined," she whispers, her fingers clasping around the edge of his. then, quieter, leaned in: “thank you… for bringing me here.” | @saintknights

[saintplanet-old]

The hall was cool despite the Dornish warmth that clung to her like a second skin. Stone walls and northern banners never quite belonged to her, not like the sun-drenched courtyards of Sunspear. And yet she sat there, spine upright and voice smooth, watching the prince with silver in his hair and prophecy in his bones. Rhaegar Targaryen. [ The realm's tragedy-in-waiting. ] And hers, for a little while. ❛ You don’t smile much, do you? ❜ she asked, tilting her head as if that could shift the weight he carried. ❛ I suppose it would be difficult, with the fate of the world resting so precariously on your shoulders. ❜ Her tone was light, but her eyes—dark and sharp as dusk—searched his face for something human. ❛ You speak like a song no one dares to sing aloud. ❜ He said nothing for a moment. He never did, not quickly. Always thinking, always dreaming. And she wondered then if he even truly saw her, or just the idea of her—a match, a duty, a Dornish answer to a crown's whispering needs. She reached across the marble table, fingers brushing his knuckles. ❛ — Perhaps I just wish to know you. Before we're wed. ❜ That was her truth. And she wondered if he'd ever know how rare that was—for a princess to ask not for love, but for intention. @saintknights