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restlessmaknae · 4 months

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came the light // lee byounggon [bx]

As a princess in exile with a bad reputation, you can't understand why Byounggon would want to spend time with you, but there's no stopping him, let alone the feelings that he evokes in you.

➳ Characters: magical medic!Byounggon x princess!reader/you

➳ Genre: romance, fantasy, magical realism, kingdom au, angst, fluff

➳ Words: 10.2k

➳ Warning: mentions of fire, having a fever, arranged marriages, a prince grabs reader by the wrist without permission

➳ Spotify playlist (title is taken from 'Here For You' by CIX)

➳ A/N: This story had the third most votes in my recent poll, so I hope it lives up to your expectations. 🥰 It can be read on its own or with Seunghun's or Jinyoung's stories which also take place in this universe. ❤️

➳ CIX taglist: @wccycc, @dat-town, @tsunchani, @s00buwu

You were 18 years old when your parents first tried to wed you off to a prince, but his timid self stood no chance against someone like you - someone whose words were like knives aimed perfectly at his heart, cutting into his insecurities and weaknesses. The wedding proposal was called off right after your first encounter with him.

You were 20 years old when your parents tried to wed you off to a prince from a different kingdom, hoping that the rumours about you that had spread over the years died down enough to not scare his family away. You might have spoken with knives, but Prince Sangdo didn’t obey any rules, he overruled them. Even if you asked him to keep his distance - to respect your privacy -, he didn’t listen to you. A week before the wedding was supposed to happen, he visited the palace, he visited you in your chambers uninvited, and what happened afterwards put an end to this wedding as well.

You didn’t regret it one bit - in fact, you wished Prince Sangdo could have rotted in a faraway place -, but it was you who was sent far away from your kingdom, from the cages of the palace where you had grown up. You were sent to Medicalia - the kingdom where some people possessed magical healing powers. Magical medicine was mostly used on the members of the Medicalia royal court including the royal family and the royal army, plus magical creatures that lived in the woods or in the mountains - such as fairies, unicorns and werewolves - or serving the kingdom - such as dragons guarding the palace. Magical medicine was also extremely rare since only magic practitioners could deal with it because they were the ones born with the ability to tame magic, but even they needed thorough practice and extensive training to be able to make use of their abilities to their full potential.

At least, that’s what you were told when you were ordered to pack up and leave after an exchange of letters between the two kingdoms. The magic in your kingdom - Animalia - lied in the ability to tame and speak to animals, and that’s exactly why most kingdoms were always indebted to you. You sent people to other kingdoms to tame their animals - such as the dragons guarding the royal palaces and the unicorns that had an excellent smell to detect magical plants - you shared your magic with them whereas it was extremely rare for other kingdoms to share their magic with others. For instance, Medicalia reserved their magical medics for the royal court while Naturalia boosted the magic of nature, and the trading of their magical plants was limited to their kingdom only.

That’s why it was ridiculously easy to send you into exile in another kingdom, and the only thing your father - the King - said before leaving was to not make more trouble. You were sent off in a carriage with a coachman and a servant, not even a royal guard was sent with you. Then again, what could they possibly guard? You weren’t worth their protection, for sure. You didn’t need to be told that you were only one mistake away from being disowned by your own parents since you were an asset, nothing else. A strategic move, the key to a strengthened connection between kingdoms and a woman forced into producing heirs.

The carriage suddenly came to a halt, but since the curtains were closed, you couldn’t peek outside. Based on the coachman’s muffled conversation from outside, you had a feeling that you were about to go through the gates of Medicalia’s royal court as it was around time you arrived.

A few minutes later, the carriage stopped again, but this time, there was a thud as the coachman got off the carriage and opened the door. He reached his hand out to help you down before doing the same for the servant girl they sent with you.

“They have sent word that we arrived, so they will be here soon to guide you to your… new home,” the elderly man laughed nervously after he stumbled upon the word. Indeed, what could he call it? Home? Runaway hideout? Prison?

You could feel the curious eyes on you as you stood there with the coachman and the servant girl in front of the carriage with your kingdom’s symbol painted over it, waiting for someone to show you to your place. Even though it was kept secret why you were coming here in the first place, you knew that these things didn’t stay a secret for long - at least, not in your kingdom.

“Is she the princess from Animalia?”

“She looks younger than I thought.”

“Is it true that she nearly killed a prince?”

You looked the woman in the eye who asked the last question, and she immediately sealed her lips, grabbing the arm of the woman beside her and turning around to go in the opposite direction. Your gaze didn’t waver, you looked straight into the wandering eyes of the strangers - court ladies, soldiers and servants passing by - with your chin up high. You only seemed weak when you let it show, and you didn’t let it show.

Most, if not all, people looked away when you caught their eyes, and it was almost amusing how they scampered away when they realised that you heard them. So naive of them to assume that you shut not just your ears but your eyes to the rumours around you.

There was one particular boy - a young man probably around your age - who stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of you, squinting his eyes at you. You looked back at him, taking in the messy midnight locks that stuck to his forehead, his sharp jawline that was in contrast to the bright, gentle edge to his almond-shaped eyes, his plump lips that failed to curl into a disapproving line like most people’s who caught your eyes. He wore a burgundy-black tunic that seemed to match the ones others were wearing around you, but it seemed more practical with its bat-wing sleeves than elegant, so you had a feeling that he wasn’t of royalty.

You tilted your head, still keeping the eye-contact, and that’s when he looked away as if he was suddenly reminded of why he was passing by, and started running again. You furrowed your eyebrows in question. What was that about?

You shook your head as a court lady came up to you to assist you with your baggage and show you to your place. You had a medium-sized room to yourself in the court with a bathroom attached to it, the rooms on your end still unoccupied and waiting for possible future guests, except for the one that they reserved for the servant girl who came with you. You were told that the Queen would welcome you the following day, and the same court lady who escorted you would bring you breakfast, lunch and dinner from the royal court kitchen, you wouldn’t need to fetch it yourself.

You thanked the young woman with a bow and a polite smile, and you saw surprise flash across her orbs as she let you settle into your new room. You didn’t ponder over the change in her expression for long, you were used to it after all. The cautious glances in your direction, the nasty gossip behind your back, and the sugarcoated words to coax you into a favour.

Too bad you weren’t one to play the dumb and ignore it all, you stood up for yourself, but that’s exactly what your parents disapproved of, that’s exactly why you were here.

Days passed by, and you seemed to fall into a routine in the meantime. In the morning, you would go for a walk in the garden of the royal court, sitting by the pond as the sun rose on the horizon, breaking the plain surface of the water into many different colours of ripe orange, rose-gold and wild apple-red. The court was tranquil at this time around, and that’s exactly what you needed. Apart from the kitchen staff who woke up early to prepare breakfast, others weren’t up around this time, so you didn’t need to bear more curious glances and more nasty accusations.

After your morning stroll, you would head back to your room, have breakfast, then read until lunchtime. Afternoon was served for whatever purpose the palace had for you: the day after you arrived, you met the Queen, after that, you met Princess Jinhee, on the third day, you were shown to the library of the court (a smaller version of what the royal family had at the palace, but nevertheless as impressive), and today, you were on your way to meet with the ladies who took care of handiwork including embroidery, sewing and tailoring.

The Queen said that these first few days will be about showing you around the court, so you knew whom to ask in need of assistance, and so that the court members could become familiar with you. You didn’t ask whether it was to dissuade their gossip or not, but you didn’t need to know that. After all, it was a wise suggestion on her part, and it wasn’t something you had complaints about. Here, you could freely roam around (with your servants following you if needed), you could spend time reading and painting in your room, and no one would ask you why. Here, you could bathe and clean yourself, you could choose and put on your clothes yourself, you didn’t need others to do it for you. Here, you could eat whatever they offered you, your meals didn’t go through your mother’s restricting wishes.

This day too, you were followed by Huisoo - the servant girl who came from Animalia with you - and Sieun showed the way - the servant girl who was appointed to you in Medicalia - as always, but as you turned a corner, the young man with the squinted eyes from last time halted beside you, his mouth forming a big ‘O’ as he caught sight of you.

“Are you the princess from Animalia?” He asked enthusiastically, and if you didn’t know any better, you would assume that he had heard only good things about you before.

When you nodded, still cautiously watching out for the change in his body language, his lips curled into a smile, the kind that made his eyes disappear. Then, he put his hands on his abdomen before bowing in a 90 degree angle towards you.

“My name is Lee Byounggon. I work as a magical medic for the royal family, so if you need any assistance magical medicine-wise, do not hesitate to ask for me,” he introduced himself when he straightened his back, the smile not fading from his lips. Despite his otherwise sharp and cold features from the day you had gotten here, he seemed gentle and warm now. The way he approached you also showed that he wasn’t one of those court members who passed by you as quickly as possible, he introduced himself head-on. He was the first one to do so which made you question:

“Aren’t you scared of me? You must have heard the rumours.”

Byounggon either didn’t seem fazed by your question or he was prepared for it because his facial expressions didn’t change. He was also really easy to read, something that you had not been so used to since so many in the royal circles put on facades to hide behind including you.

“You know… I have a special ability,” the magical medic took one tiny step towards you as if he was about to tell a secret. “I can see into people’s souls through their eyes,” he added with a smile, but you merely rolled your eyes. Even though you were not born and raised here, you knew that such magic didn’t exist here or anywhere else for that matter.

Byounggon also sensed that you didn’t believe him in the slightest because he burst into laughter in the next second, and only when he composed himself, did he continue.

“I’m just kidding, but really… you don’t look like you wanted to hurt that prince, not on purpose for sure,” he explained rather candidly, and you didn’t feel like he was lying. Lies could be covered up with smiles, laughs, sarcasm, diverting the topic or simply escaping the situation, but he… he didn’t look like he was telling a fib.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you pointed out rather coldly nevertheless, your tone intended to lash out at him.

“That’s exactly why I don’t believe the rumours. Why should I judge you when I don’t know you?”

You weren’t one to get surprised, but this did take you aback. The way he said it so unwaveringly was new, unfamiliar. You weren’t used to it, especially not after what had happened to Prince Sangdo. Byounggon didn’t seem like he had ulterior motives to be trusting you like that, but you couldn’t let your guard down over one supportive line.

So you excused yourself, explaining to the magical medic that you were on your way to the handiwork ladies, and told the servants that you could go on. The young man seemed saddened by your sudden announcement, but he did let you go, waving in your way as you were walking away from him.

You were sitting by the pond as always, watching the sunrise a few days later. It would be another day you spent away from Animalia, and you had this pang in your chest that you couldn’t explain. You didn’t miss how you used to live in that palace, you didn’t miss the bravado you had to put on to seem like an obedient, perfect little daughter, you didn’t miss the way you were mocked for not having magic in your veins when both your parents - your mother could tame fire because she was from Elementalia and your father could talk to animals because he was from Animalia - and your sister did. Until the day your magic had surfaced, at least. Afterwards, you were a curse, the mistake in the carefully crafted plans, the wrong in all the rights and the flaw in the flawless family.

You didn’t miss any of it, and yet… you couldn’t quite get used to the freedom that you had here. Despite the fact that you were in exile, you didn’t feel like a prisoner here. Sure, you weren’t invited to Prince Jinyoung and Princess Yunkyeong’s wedding because so many other royal families would be there, and it was your parents’ wish not to be seen at such events, but otherwise, you could be free. You were no one special here, and you liked it that way.

“Oh, I see someone else is also an early riser!”

A cheerful voice disrupted your silent pondering, and you snapped your head back at the sudden visitor. You let out a sigh when you locked eyes with the not so unfamiliar stranger, and turned back to the pond in front of you instead.

“You must have been deep in thought, you didn’t even see me walking towards you,” Byounggon continued despite your attempt at ignoring him, and he only halted when he reached you. You could feel his gaze on you, curious yet tentative, but you didn’t respond to it, you continued looking ahead.

“I was, and it’s because I’ve never met anyone here at this time of the day before.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky today,” the medic blabbered cheerily, and without thinking twice, he sat down on the bench beside you. When you finally looked at him - deeming his action rather brazen -, he was already looking at you, and when you locked eyes, he flashed you a dimpled smile. Why he was grinning at someone like you - a princess from a far away kingdom with a bad reputation, someone who had supposedly almost killed her husband-to-be - was beyond you. Did he have no care in the world? Did he have no fear? Was he merely naive?

“Are you that bored, or are you just set on annoying me?”

“Annoying you?” Byounggon’s smile faltered, his bright features darkening. He looked so hurt suddenly, you almost felt bad for implying something like that. “Am I really annoying you?” He inquired, blinking rapidly with his ocean-deep, jet-black orbs, swimming in genuine care. When you looked him in the eye, you felt like looking into something rare, something precious: like a gemstone containing unknown magic, hidden away from the world for its power. And you… you were probably the last person who was worthy of seeing such a treasure.

You cleared your throat and averted your eyes to the pond, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

“I’m not used to company around here, and I didn’t expect anyone today either,” you blurted out honestly, feeling exposed for what your words might indicate. Maybe the magical medic also felt the weight of it for he seemed compromising instead of butthurt or overly nosy.

“Well, I can leave if you want me to,” he suggested right away, and he got to his feet even before you could tell him to stop. However, when you did confess that he didn’t have to leave, you could feel the grin spreading on his face even without turning his way. Gosh, why did he have to smile so brightly all the time? It was so… unusual for you.

Instead, you asked him to tell you something that he felt like sharing. Like an arrow that was fired, the boy’s words came on suddenly and flew like a river. He didn’t seem to be able to stop from the moment he started talking about his best friend, Seunghun, who was a soldier here, and with whom he had a special connection. When he said that it was a secret why, you rolled your eyes, assuming that he was joking yet again.

However, after he shared with you that he had actually saved Seunghun’s life, you thought that maybe he wasn’t lying about it. Seunghun’s parents had died when their house had caught on fire, and he would have died with them too, but Byounggon - who had been a little boy back then just like Seunghun himself and who had been living close to Seunghun’s home - had noticed the fire and dragged the boy out while risking his own life. His magic had barely resurfaced before the incident, but it had come out in full-force while he had been trying to save Seunghun’s life.

Then, Seunghun ended up at the palace with Byounggon and Byounggon’s father - who was a magical medic himself -, and they had been friends ever since. The two of them with Prince Jinyoung used to play hide and seek in this very garden before, and while he was talking about his childhood days, his eyes twinkled in a different light.

“Have you had friends like that, too?” He posed the question in his good-willed innocence when you were at the topic, but you could merely scoff.

“No. I had no friends at the palace. I couldn’t even consider my sister my friend even though she is only two years older than me,” you confessed, your words loaded with bitter poison. You had always been pitted against each other with your sister, and even though you had tried to make her see you as more than just an enemy, your sister had never let you. So gone was the naive little girl who had believed that she could make everything right if she had given her share of the cake to her sister or to give her the brand new doll you had gotten for your birthday, and it was replaced with the girl who was too mature and wise for her age, nevertheless all too pessimistic.

“It must have been lonely,” Byounggon broke the silence suddenly, shattering your flashbacks into tiny little pieces. Reality struck you hard, his words even more so, and for a moment, you felt like you were about to cry. So you pressed your lips tight and dug your nails into your skin, holding it in.

The medic might have sensed your discomfort or he merely wanted to fill the silence. Nevertheless, he started talking about the upcoming Festival of Day and Light to change the subject, the usual yearly festival for the fall equinox, and why it was special for them. Supposedly, they commemorated the gift of light while also appreciating the fact that darkness was needed for light to exist, so they lit candles while thinking of their loved ones, wishing them a bright year. The best way to light candles was to put them in lanterns and to place them on the little boats that were waiting for them by the riverside, and to watch them float away.

“You should definitely come celebrate it with us. There’s always a fun celebration outside of the court, and there are all kinds of delicacies and music and…”

“Why would I go? It’s not my tradition to celebrate,” you cut off his enthusiastic chatter, but he just shrugged his shoulders, his casual way of handling your harsh words resurfacing yet again.

“I wasn’t notified that the fall equinox was created just for our kingdom,” he counter-attacked playfully, and even though you were about to open your mouth to go against him, you realised that you couldn’t. He was right.

Hence, you bit your tongue, and didn’t say anything, just let him talk about whatever came to his mind until you were called for breakfast by Huisoo who seemed quite surprised to see you talking to the medic by the pond. What could you say though? You were surprised, too.

Two weeks later, when you finally managed to fall asleep after tossing and turning in bed for hours, shivers running up and down your spine, you dreamed of a fire.

You were standing inside the fire, the flames dancing around you, and whenever you tried to move, they followed you as if they were your shadow. You looked left and right when you heard a cry on the other side of the fire, and even though you should have felt scorching hot, you could only feel icy numbness taking hold of your legs, unable to move. The cry grew louder and louder until you had to put your hands on your ears to block the frantic sound out. Then, someone called your name, and when you tried to block it out too, invisible arms started shaking you. You fought back, tears pricking your ears, but the arms just wouldn’t let go.

Your eyes bolted open at that moment, but you didn’t feel any better. In fact, you felt even hotter than in that fire, and when you looked at the figure standing above you, his arms holding onto your shoulders, you realised that the part about being shaken must have been real. So had been the part about someone calling your name.

“Princess Y/N, it’s me. Huisoo told me that you weren’t feeling well last night, and you didn’t show up at the pond today, so I came by to see if I could help,” Byounggon explained slowly, gently, as if talking to a child. Then, when he caught sight of you staring at his arms on your shoulder, he let go of you, albeit a bit embarrassed.

You just blinked at him, trying to focus on his face instead of letting the nightmares take hold of you again, but it was difficult when all you wanted to do was to close your eyes and lie in bed. Your head was throbbing, your whole body was quivering, and the last thing you wanted to do was to have a conversation with Byounggon even though he seemed genuinely concerned about you.

“Where does it hurt? How long have you been having a fever?” He asked seriously once you regained more consciousness, and even though you were reluctant to tell him because you didn’t want his help, you were too run down to care.

So you told him that your joints had been hurting since last night, just before dinner, and you had a fever since midnight or dawn, you couldn’t tell because you had been drifting out of dreams (or more like nightmares) for the most part. Byounggon insisted on helping you after hearing about your symptoms, but you declined, saying that you had been used to dealing with such things on your own in your kingdom.

“Does it mean that I have to watch you suffer just because that’s what you’ve been used to?” The medic exclaimed, rather desperate, and even though you knew all too well what he was referring to, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Wasn’t that what you were doing now? Suffering on your own, like the strong daughter and the perfect princess you had needed to become, just because you had never been treated otherwise? Because you could never show any sign of weakness, let alone accept someone’s assistance when they were willingly giving it to you?

“Fine. Do as you wish,” you gave in after defeating the voices in your head telling you not to let him help you. You were so tired, your body felt like it was twice its weight, and your eyes were heavy with sleep and the last remains of the terrifying nightmare you had, the last thing you felt like doing was arguing.

Byounggon immediately broke into a relieved smile, and as he was getting ready, he started talking about what he was about to do. Supposedly, one’s centre of energy was around their abdomen, so he needed to put his hand on your stomach to be able to heal your energy centre. If you had been in your right mind, you would have probably backed down on your word at this part, but you were still half-conscious, so you didn’t care, even when he touched you. He touched you so gently though, you could barely feel his featherlike touch.

He closed his eyes while he was working with his magic on healing you, and his lips sometimes twitched, probably from concentration. May it be because of his magic working or because you could look at him more closely like this as he was crouching down by your mattress, but you realised that there were dark circles under his eyes. You were reminded of what Sieun had told you a few days ago, that the magical medic had asked her about your daily schedule, especially about when you usually went to the pond. Sieun had told you that she didn’t know why he was asking, but you had a feeling why.

Byounggon must have been waking up earlier to talk with you by the pond, and the fact that he got worried because you had not been there this morning as you had done so for the past two weeks made you feel delirious, as if he was a poison you had a sweet taste of, but you couldn’t let yourself have more.

“It’s done,” the medic announced, dragging you out of your thoughts, and as your head cleared, you realised that your body felt light again. You put your hand to your forehead, but it didn’t feel hot. You pushed yourself up to a sitting position, and indeed, you didn’t feel feverish anymore. It was as if you had just woken from a good night’s sleep.

“Wow, princess, take it easy! You should still rest, you don’t want this illness to come back,” he advised, eyebrows furrowed in worry, and now that you had the energy to smile, you directed a friendly one at him.

“It’s alright. I feel good thanks to you,” you pointed out, and you saw how he tried to hide the grin that was creeping onto his lips. He failed though, alongside the pink that was tinting his cheeks, and the way he needed to clear his throat before he spoke up again.

“Well, it was nothing, really,” he shrugged off your compliment, averting his eyes elsewhere but your face. You were about to ask him to tell you how his magic worked when he caught sight of your paintings, the canvases resting by the wall.

“Did you paint them?” He inquired, a pure kind of curiosity lighting up in his eyes, and you didn’t have the heart to lie to him. So you told him the truth: that it was you, and that you had been painting for some time though your mother had never approved of it since she didn’t deem it appropriate for a princess who should have been learning how to engage in polite conversations and seducing princes instead of doing art.

“Seducing princes? Do you really learn that?” Byounggon asked, rather surprised, but there was a playful smile hiding in the corner of his lips. It seemed that even the medic himself couldn’t decide how much to believe your words.

“Well, she wanted me to. We had books on them in the library, and there was a teacher giving lessons on courting, but he only succeeded in teaching my sister. I made him give up after two lessons,” you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly.

“Wow, you are so…”

“So?” You quirked an eyebrow challengingly when he seemed to search for the right words. Usually, when you gave people this look, they backtracked, and started babbling or changed the topic, but the medic didn’t.

“Admirable,” he decided on it a few seconds later, and your features softened. It was as if someone had offered you some quiet after the cacophony of the royal events you were forced to attend: you felt comforted, and your heavy heart felt a bit less tight. “I applaud you for how you speak your mind. I find it refreshing.”

You found his approachable personality refreshing too, but you couldn’t tell him that. After all, what good could that lead to? You had already let down your walls around him enough times, you were afraid that if he kept going, he would see behind that admirable facade, and see you as you were: terrified of history repeating itself and being far from perfect when it came to reciprocating other’s kindness. You didn’t deserve his care, you didn’t deserve his kindness.

Instead of commenting on his words, you asked if he had any duties he needed to attend to, and now that you reminded him, he realised that he should go to the palace indeed. However, before he could leave, you thanked him for healing you, and if anything, he gifted you with the widest smile you had seen on him.

“Anytime.”

Coming from him, accompanied by the comet of affection travelling through the galaxy of his jet-black orbs, somehow, you didn’t want to question the sincerity of his words.

The court was in a frenzy because of the upcoming wedding, but those who had some spare time still decided to go to the yearly Festival of Day and Light. You had contemplated not going, but when you asked Sieun about the festival, her whole face lit up, and you had a feeling that she would want to go.

So you told Sieun and Huisoo that you would head out to check out the festivities, but they could go their separate ways afterwards if they wanted to. The girls both objected fervently, but it was only until Huisoo was ever so obviously swept up by a handsome young man with shoulder-length hair at a flower stall, and the other met someone she had known before because then, both of them excused themselves. Which left you alone with the sugarcoated apple in your hand that you had bought for yourself - and one for either servant girl -, strolling around the main market square where the festival took place.

There were all kinds of games for kids who ran around without a care in the world while their parents were running after them or cheering them on. Beside the games, stalls of delicacies - ranging from sugared fruit to freshly-baked bread and dried figs coated in cinnamon - were lined up like tiny little stars dotted on the canvas of cobblestones. Beside the riverside, people either lit up candles or placed them on the little boats that waited by the sides just like Byounggon had told you so. The whole festival was full of cheers, laughter and life, topped by white and yellow decorations in the shape of the Sun, the Moon and the stars.

Despite being an outsider, you could feel the kingdom pulsing with the energy of its people, bright and cheerful. When you had been living in Animalia, you had visited the festivities outside of the palace maybe once or twice as a kid, so to be able to see how ordinary people celebrated such a meaningful time here warmed your heart. Suddenly, you felt like you were being surrounded by a community instead of being left alone in the vastness of the icy, jarring unknown.

Maybe it was because of the sentiment or because of the eager ladies by the riverside handing out candles, but you found yourself lighting up one of them when you found a part of the riverside that wasn’t as crowded as others.

“You do know that you need to make a wish when you light a candle. Otherwise, it will be pretty but less meaningful,” a familiar voice spoke up from behind you, and you hid the smile that was creeping onto your lips with a frown.

“You do know that you seem to spend an awful lot of time with me these days,” you pointed out when Byounggon halted beside you, and flashed you a wide smile, the kind that turned his eyes into little crescents resembling the moon above you.

“I am just keeping an eye on you. I wouldn’t want a princess to be sick again or to be sick of boredom,” he retorted cheekily, and you bit your cheek to not smile back at him as brightly as you could. He kept his eyes on you, and the way the moonlight reflected in his orbs and cupped his features in a magnificent halo mesmerised you for a moment. He didn’t need light to shine, he was so bright, so full of life either way, but under the crafted lines of the moon, you wondered what it would be like to make a painting of him one day - and whether you could capture his features as gracefully as your eyes did now.

Byounggon did develop a habit of accompanying you on your morning stroll. Sometimes he was early, more often he was late, but he did show up every day without fail. When you questioned if he had nothing better to do, he said no, and that he was actually looking for company for his morning walks, too. If you hadn’t heard from Sieun that the medic had specifically asked her about your morning visits to the court garden, you might have believed him, but since the servant girl’s remark, you couldn’t have fought the seed of hope that was blooming in your chest.

You let him join you, and you let him talk. You got to know all kinds of stories regarding court life here, and childhood stories of his soldier friend, Seunghun, and Prince Jinyoung, more or less funny ones that cracked up the medic, too. You also got to know about current affairs of the kingdom, and how Prince Jinyoung’s heart was someone else’s, but he couldn’t love her fully because he was going to marry a princess for a favourable trade deal. When you inquired if the wedding could be called off because of the prince’s feelings, Byounggon shook his head, a bitter smile tinting his lips - something that you had ever so scarcely seen on him. You hadn’t been in Prince Jinyoung’s shoes because you had never wanted to sacrifice an arranged marriage for a genuine love, but you could understand why it was difficult for him to marry for convenience.

You liked when Byounggon was talking because you could get to know about how things worked in the kingdom, but you could also get to know about him and his (adorably) gullible personality and his (precious) big heart. Once you realised that his intentions were truly pure, you let yourself be comfortable around him, including this day.

“So you came here to make a wish?” You quirked an eyebrow when you caught sight of a candle in his hands. The medic let out a deep, joyous laughter before answering.

“Well, I came here because I saw you, but yes, I also have a wish,” he flashed you a wide grin, and as he crouched down to put his candle into a lantern, you couldn’t help but ask:

“What are you wishing for?”

“It’s a secret,” he winked at you playfully. If he had been someone else, you would have probably felt offended by the gesture. However, it was him, and you knew him well enough by now, so you merely rolled your eyes at his antics.

“Fine. I won’t tell you mine either,” you retorted with a huff as you followed suit, and lit your own candle. He helped you put yours into a lantern, and placed them beside his own on a nearby boat. You waited a few minutes until the boat was filled up with lanterns and a man pushed the boat off the railing to let it float, to let it get further away from you while you were making a wish.

You watched it go with a sentimental smile, thinking of how much had changed in the last few months, so that you could be a part of a festival like this and wish to have many more moments like this - when you forgot about who you were, and let yourself be, let yourself rest after carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“You seem to be happy now,” Byounggon remarked gently, quietly, no hint of playfulness in his voice after a few moments of utter silence. You looked at him, humming a yes, and let out a long sigh. When you inhaled, it felt like breathing in a whole new flavour of air.

“Is it because of me?”

Now Byounggon was teasing, his lips quirked up, but you had a feeling that he was doing it on purpose because he was way too pleased with himself when you laughed at the sudden change of the mood.

“Do you think it’s because of you?” You asked back, equally as curious as challenging. You knew that the medic would answer no matter your tone because he always did, and you liked that about him: that he was willing to speak his mind, even if it meant that he embarrassed himself because of his silly antics or that he made your heart flutter with a genuine compliment of his.

“I would like to think that, at least partly, it’s because of me,” Byounggon played along, theatrically placing a hand above his heart. He tried to remain serious, his features unwavering, but his lips twitched slightly, and his whole demeanour changed when he heard music coming from the main market square. They started playing a song - unknown to you, of course - on the drums and there was probably a little bit of guitar as well, and some instrument that you couldn’t quite put a finger on. Byounggon’s face immediately lit up hearing the melody, and it only took a few seconds until he bolted off, exclaiming that you should join him dancing while he was running off.

You followed him swiftly, and watched as he joined the circle of people who started dancing to the music. There were older people, younger ones, even little children, men and women alike, and the different colour and design of their clothes indicated that they were from different classes. You caught sight of Huisoo and the pretty boy from the flower stall in the crowd, and something in you twisted when you looked at them - so carefree, so joyful, so present in the given moment.

Then, Byounggon suddenly showed up by your side, and reached his hand out to you when the music stopped. You looked down at the boy’s hand, then up at him, into his almond-shaped eyes, and your first instinct was to shake your head and tell him no. The medic’s smile didn’t falter despite your hesitation, and maybe that’s what prompted you to take his hand and join him.

No one threw you a nasty glance, no one judged you for being there, no one cared, and honestly, that was the most reassured you felt for a long time. With your hand in Byounggon’s and in a little girl’s on your other side, you followed their lead and mimicked their dance moves. One after another, one after another, and then you lost count of the steps as you got swept up in the stomping footsteps and the echoing melodies.

You didn’t know how much time passed by - it could have been minutes or hours, you couldn’t tell -, but when the dance was over, and Byounggon inquired if you wanted to head back to the court together, you immediately said yes. It was only after a few seconds that you realised that the medic still didn’t let go of your hand, and you watched him take it away with a coy smile and a scratch of his neck.

And that’s when you realised that he was actually right: that he was a part of why you were happy here.

Prince Jinyoung and Princess Yunkyoung’s wedding took place as planned, and since Sieun was obligated to join because she was a part of the royal court here, you told Huisoo that she could spend this day however she wanted, you would be fine on your own. You didn’t like asking them for favours either way; since your mother’s watching eyes weren’t on you, you enjoyed that you could cater for yourself, and didn’t require their services as much. Both girls objected at first, saying that you were too generous, that’s why you started asking them to accompany you when they could break free from their role a bit - like at the festival when they could join the crowd or when you started going to the court kitchen to eat together with others instead of having your meals delivered to your room -, and you had a feeling that Huisoo would take the opportunity to meet up with the pretty flower stall boy from the festival.

That left you with much free time on your hands, preferably spent alone in your room, so you couldn’t bump into your mother who would attend the wedding and be reprimanded for being in the public’s eye. You spent the morning working on a painting of the riverside on the day of the festival, illuminated by the mysterious moon, and you spent the afternoon reading a book on the many magical creatures of the kingdom. You did have quite a few of them at Animalia too, but Medicalia boosted a high number of creatures that you had only heard of before, yet never seen them - such as phoenixes, kitsunes and caladriuses which supposedly had healing powers.

You were in the middle of reading a chapter about phoenixes when you heard a knock on your door. Expecting it to be one of the servants, you told them that they could come inside, but the knocking persisted. Hence, you rose to your feet from your crouching posture, and stepped up to the door to open it. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who was behind it.

“Mother!” You breathed out in shock, not expecting her to pay a visit to you after the wedding ceremony. She was all dolled up for the event, but the evident frown on her face ruined the innocence of the swan-white outfit she put on.

She walked into the room with much disgust in her eyes, and only after you closed the door, did she turn around to face you. You could already tell that she was frustrated, her feelings shown in the tight lines of her lips and the way she squinted her eyes at you. Not to mention her thundering voice when she spoke up.

“Didn’t I tell you not to cause trouble here? Didn’t I specifically ask you to not use your powers here?” She spat the questions like venom, her words sending a bullet through your heart one after another.

“I do not understand, Mother,” you answered, your heart wrenching at the thought that she could assume something like this when you had nothing to be ashamed of. You had not caused any trouble here, and you had never used your powers ever since you had entered Animalia. Even though it had been tempting because you had wanted to see what you could do with it if you had put effort into practising, but you had to bury the thought as soon as it was born.

“Oh, come on, you’re not a child anymore! Don’t play the innocent kid with me,” your mother striked again, and took a step closer to you, looking straight into your eyes when she continued. “There was a fire a few days ago in the palace’s kitchen. I’ve heard that they haven’t found what caused it yet, though it could have been simply out of negligence. With you being here, I don’t think it was accidental.”

For a moment, you had no idea what to say. Then, you felt your blood rise as you balled your hands into fists. Just how could she assume something like that on her own when you were totally innocent? Just how low could she stoop to make you play the bad guy when the fire in your room at the Animalia palace wouldn’t have broken out if it hadn’t been for Prince Sangdo’s lack of manners? Not to mention who was to blame for your powers? Wasn’t it your mother who came from Elementalia and had the power to tame fire?

“Do you really think I visit the palace each and every day, just to burn something there? Do you really think of me so lowly? I have not even set foot in the palace for a month, let alone create a fire in the kitchen, but if you want to blame someone, sure, blame me. That does not mean I am guilty,” you objected fervently, but before she could open her mouth to say something more, you continued. “I wish you would have made a scene like this when Prince Sangdo had come into my room and grabbed my wrist when I had asked him not to touch me that night. If I was guilty then, you would have had your reason to blame it on me now. But I was innocent and I am innocent now, it is only your perception of me that always makes me the bad one in your eyes. The child that does not sit back and watch injustice without speaking up about it, the daughter that would choose painting over marrying a prince, and the girl who did not seem to inherit your powers until she did, and then, you wished she hadn’t.”

Your words flew like the river during a storm - waves crushing violently, heavy winds catching the surface ever so indignantly -, and it felt like there was a thunderstorm in your heart. You wanted to fight, to punch the walls, to knock over the shelves around you - anything to make your mother go away, alas, you could only fight back with your words, and they even didn’t seem to reach her. If anything, they made her even angrier, no sign of remorse in her eyes.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! A princess knows where to draw the line, but you… you are out of your mind, and being away from Animalia didn’t seem to help either. And I thought-”

Your mother’s words were interrupted by a few rhythmic knocks on the door, and you both snapped your head towards the sound.

“Princess Y/N, it’s time for your lesson,” a familiar voice called, and despite the fact that you had no lesson, let alone with him, you didn’t want to object. Your mother didn’t seem to think it through either, instead, she let out an offended huff and murmured into your ears before leaving:

“Don’t think that you can come back anytime soon with that attitude.”

You gulped down the knot in your throat as you watched her leave, and turned around to be with your back to the door, so that Byounggon wouldn’t see the way your hands were shaking when he came inside your room. You heard him close the door behind him, and fumble with something before he dared to ask:

“Are you okay?”

“How much did you hear?” You retorted back, standing by the walls with your back to him. You tried your best to hold back your tears, but you weren’t sure that you were doing a good job because you could feel your eyes watering despite your best efforts.

“Uhmm… I think everything,” Byounggon admitted after a long pause. You closed your eyes for a moment, the first teardrop rolling down your cheeks, leaving a cold streak behind on your warm cheeks. “I saw your mother leaving the ceremony, and I had a feeling that she would come to you, but I wasn’t sure. So I followed her here. I know it sounds very bad, but I was afraid that she would… do something to upset you or hurt you because you told me that she was the one who wanted to send you away, and I don’t know what exactly happened, at least I didn’t know until now, but I knew you didn’t deserve it, and it really seems you didn’t. And I just… I wanted to protect you from her. I’m sorry I was late,” he rambled incredibly fast, and the more he talked, the more heavily your tears were following.

You couldn’t understand how someone who had never met you could trust you and believe in your innocence even before you had met for the first time. On the contrary, your mother had blamed you for everything, and she had known the full story. How could someone be so pure to you? How could Byounggon care about you so genuinely, so selflessly? He didn’t have anything to gain from caring about you, yet he did so, and it just broke your heart even more.

You heard the medic take a few steps towards you, and when he halted beside you in a safe distance, he immediately caught sight of your silent sobbing. You looked at him from behind the curtain of your tears, watching how he was trying to gesture with his hands, but was unable to decide what to do. So you decided instead of Byounggon himself, and stepped up to him to embrace him.

“Thank you,” you croaked out, your voice coming out a lot more strained and fragile than you wanted to.

You could feel him loosen up, and slowly, gently, he put his arms around your frame, patting your back while you cried against his chest. He was warm, he was warmth itself, and you wanted to get lost in his touch, in his arms, in his voice.

“It’s okay. You can cry with me,” he murmured into your hair, his voice rid of any playfulness or teasing.

Tears like pearls fell onto the silk of his shirt, leaving behind more than just wet stains - leaving behind the last walls that you had been keeping up around yourself to protect yourself, all crumbled down now, and the stories he had never heard before, neither had you shared with anyone else since leaving your kingdom.

The following days, you were cautious about meeting Byounggon, secretly terrified that he would see you as a horrible person, that he wouldn’t understand your pain, and you would end up feeling lonelier than ever before. You had never opened up to someone like on the day of the wedding, and you were afraid that you would need to rebuild your walls, and never let anyone in, ever again.

On the other hand, Byounggon acted the same way, if not more protective over you. He highlighted how much people liked you here in the court, especially since the festival when you had gone out to celebrate with ordinary people, and how your own kingdom didn’t deserve you if they turned their back on you when you had wanted to protect yourself. What’s more, he pointed out that he would have been delighted to meet someone like you when he had been a child because taming fire would have meant that you could have helped save Seunghun’s parents when he had managed to save Seunghun only. Sure, power might come with great responsibility, but it wasn’t your fault that your power had surfaced at a time like that. It merely showed that you had been desperate back then, and no one had paid attention to that part of the story, they had been too quick to send you away.

You felt yourself becoming softer and softer towards the medic afterwards because he was everything you had never had the chance to have - the shoulder to cry on, the one who understood your body language even when words failed you, the boy who always asked for your permission when he wanted to come closer to you or hold your hand, and the one who would fight for you through thick and thin. You had never met a more considerate, more gentle soul, and even his goofy self was endearing to you.

Even when he claimed that he didn’t steal a flower (that allegedly resembled you in his eyes) from the court garden (“because it wasn’t considered stealing if he was on good terms with the gardeners”); even when he managed to fall into the pond when he got scared by a bee during one of your morning strolls, and even when he ran all the way from the palace to you because he thought that you were the one who came down with something in the court, sweating bucks because running wasn’t his forte, your feelings towards him grew stronger and stronger.

Not to mention the time he shared with you the secret he had been keeping about his friend, Seunghun. When he had first talked about the soldier, you had assumed that he had been joking when he had claimed that the reason their relationship was special was a secret. However, when he let you know that by saving Seunghun, he managed to keep him alive as a phoenix, it all made more sense. You could also understand why he was keeping it a secret because phoenixes didn’t have human forms, at least not ones that the books knew of.

You knew the part of the story that Seunghun’s parents had died when their house had caught on fire, and he would have died with them too, but Byounggon had noticed the fire and dragged the boy out while risking his own life. His magic had barely resurfaced back then, but it had come out in full-force as he had been trying to save Seunghun’s life. Since he hadn’t known at first just how much he could have helped the almost burned boy, he had also applied fireflower on his wounds - the flower that was born after fires, so interestingly so, it was almost like a phoenix, born after turning to ashes.

In a way, Byounggon tied himself to Seunghun by saving him because his magic continued to live inside his friend’s body, and whenever the soldier was hurt, it was only Byounggon who could heal him completely. At least, until Seunghun was saved by a girl, and her magic saved him just like the medic’s magic had saved him when they had been young. Ever since then, their magical bond might have faded, but their friendship stayed the same.

You even met the so-called soldier friend and his girlfriend at the court, and after a while, it became a habit of yours to have dinner with them alongside Huisoo, Sieun and the medic himself. You felt light whenever you were around them, that’s why you didn’t take it to heart when they started teasing you or Byounggon who was clumsily trying to get closer to you. Bit by bit, you let him get closer, but you needed to be the one to take the final step nevertheless.

“Byounggon, we need to talk,” you told him one morning, sitting by the pond while the sun was just rising on the horizon.

“T-talk?” He stuttered, extremely nervous for someone who was usually so chatty, but maybe he sensed the serious edge to your words, and he was scared by what was to come.

All was well though, so he was scared for nothing. Your parents had previously sent a letter to the royal family of Medicalia, telling them to take care of you for at least a year more until your sister could settle down with her husband, and you had a feeling that meant that you would never be welcomed in Animalia again. Hence, you had the permission to stay here longer, and you tried to be useful by applying to become an arts teacher in the court. You had your first lessons with the cousins of Prince Jinyoung and Princess Jinhee not too long ago, and it proved to be a success, so that was taken care of.

Nevertheless, you had a feeling that the boy might have thought that you would need to go back to Animalia or worse, marry a prince from a far-away kingdom. Thankfully, neither of them were likely to happen anytime soon, but it warmed your heart how worried he got.

“Yes. I want to talk about you and me,” you broke it down to him, but if anything, that just made him appear more appalled. He visibly gulped, but his eyes were still on you, intent and curious.

“Suuure. Go ahead,” he prompted semi-confidently, and you reached out to put your hand on his, to soothe his nerves. You could tell that it had its effect on him because his lips immediately curved upwards, and he squeezed your hand to hold onto you more tightly.

“I want to thank you for waiting for me,” you started sincerely, but the talkative person he was, he couldn’t help himself, but to interrupt you.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? I’m not like that horrible prince who deserves the absolute worst, he deserves to-” He started getting riled up again, something that he always did when you mentioned some injustice you had encountered at the Animalia palace or he thought of Prince Sangdo. You were sure that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back if he were to ever encounter the said prince, but thankfully, there was little to no chance of that happening.

“I love you, Byounggon,” you announced, loud and proud, and the medic’s mouth stayed open, probably because he was in the middle of his monologue, but also because he was surprised by your sudden confession. Then, he closed his mouth, his features softening, and he immediately threw his arms around you.

“I love you, too. Gosh, I love you so much!” He shrieked excitedly like a little kid, and hugged you tighter than ever before. You smiled to yourself while he was holding you, amused (and bewitched) at the way he kept saying ‘I love you’ like he would never want to stop.

He couldn’t stop even when Sieun and Huisoo walked by, and they tried to sniffle their giggles while watching you two embrace each other in the middle of the blooming garden, bathed in the rays of the sunrise.

“I’ve told you he liked her when he asked about her morning strolls,” Huisoo told Sieun as they were heading towards the kitchen while the other girl just let out an amused laugh.

“Sure, Miss Matchmaker. What about your flower boy though? What was his name again? Leewoo? Leehan?” Sieun teased her and smacked the girl in the side, playful as ever.

“Ssshh,” Huisoo shushed her, pretending to stay nonchalant about the topic, but she couldn’t help a smile creeping onto her lips as she said: “Well, love might be in the air for everyone.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think in the comments or as reblogs. I always read them and react to them. 🥰

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for CIX or for other bands, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! *-*

#cix scenarios #cix imagines #cix x you #cix x reader #cix fluff #cix angst #bx scenarios #bx imagines #bx x you #bx x reader #bx fluff #bx angst #lee byounggon x reader #lee byounggon x you #lee byounggon scenarios #lee byounggon imagines #lee byounggon fluff #lee byounggon angst

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onehundredandeleventropicalfish · 2 years

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also. i think for the most part the netflix adaptation vastly improved on the comics, and even where it didn't, i understand from a scriptwriting perspective why those decisions were made

but as a whump fan. i need show only fans to know how the original imperfect hosts went, because dear god dream was having A Time

like, the show kinda goes alex nightmare -> briefly unconscious -> lucienne finds him and they go check on the palace. he's struggling to get back to full strength but he still seems mostly okay, physically

comic dream, however...

first up, cursing alex took power. power that he did not at all have to spare, he was already hugely weakened from [overture spoilers] even before the cage, and the hundred years did not help. he's that committed to his revenge he's burning up his final reserves here

which means (and this probably happened in show canon we just didn't see it), when dream tries to travel back home, he can only just barely make it to the edge of his realm, where it's just storms and nightmares and sand. and he spends hours just trying to make it to the gates, but even that's too much

which in the show, after who knows how long, is where lucienne finds him

it's gregory that does, in the comics. and like, lucienne definitely a more personal connection, i prefer that way round. but god i wish we'd gotten these lines, because i think that might be the only time dream has ever asked for help from someone who isn't family

(also like. he says in the panel above he doesn't remember anything in between passing out and waking up in the bed in cain's house, which means he was out of it enough he does not remember asking for help)

and that's not the only memory issue here! this line hits me really hard, because with the combination of the hundred year isolation and how tired/hurt he is, for a moment he doesn't remember who abel is

he knows he should recognise him! cain and abel were the first non dream beings to come live in the dreaming, they should be more familiar than anyone. but he can't place it. and god, that's gotta be terrifying for anyone, but especially someone like dream. both in that he's already failed at his duty in such a devastating way, for someone who values responsibility so much anything that continues to keep him from doing his job is horrifying, but also that if he can't rely on his own mind (which i would not be surprised if he was already struggling to, after over a century in a cage), he truly has nothing left

and i'm kinda doing these panels in reverse order, but lastly, this one

like. show dream is having a hard enough time with the fact that he can't instantly restore everything (though he tried as hard as he possibly could)

comic dream? before all this you could create whole worlds by barely more than thinking it. now, it's dark, and you don't know where you are, and you're really not feeling well. and all that power is gone. to the point where you need to rely on someone else's actions just to see.

here in the darkness, and all that

but like - creating light is the tiniest of magics, in the past you did it without even thinking. it barely qualifies as magic. right now, though, even that's beyond you. you've never been more powerless in your life, and you have no idea when or if you'll get those powers back

neil gaiman really said just fuck this guy up

#don't worry when i get up to this in my calliope fic it's going back in #dream of the endless #preludes #mine #meta

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purplebass · 1 year

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More Analysis on Kell and Lila's development in Threads

Threads of Power SPOILERS in this post.

I might be boring but... more analysis of Kell and Lila's relationship development in ToP because I like talking about this topic. lol. This post is loooong and I don't know if I have said all I wanted to say about the topic because it still seems I forget to address something every time. You can tell Kell and Lila messed up with my brain a lot 😳🤭 but I love them for giving me topics to analyze and discuss.

Kell and Lila are the embodiment of how two people with the same magical threads (Antari) lived different lives and had a different upbringing, thus the way they use their power and how they face life in both the practical and emotional aspect is different.

Lila as the ship: Kell's fear of the unpredictable, unsteady, uncontrollable

For example, we see how Lila is at ease at sea while Kell feels like precious cargo on the Barron, but then he adapts and feels more adjusted as the years go by. And this is also thanks to Lila, who tries to help him in the ways she can: by teaching him to fight or simply by giving him space when he's in a mood, because that's what she thinks he needs. That's her love language. She also makes sure to come back to him all the times so he'll know she's safe, because Kell knows he can't control her but it's in his nature to be overprotective and she wants to make sure he knows she is there. Lila is unpredictable, just like a ship in the open sea that is potentially open to wreckage or attacks. It never stays put like a palace, and this makes Kell a little uneasy, but he holds on because Lila is there with him. Lila tries to make the ship a safe space for Kell.

Kell as the palace: Lila's fear of routine, stillness, control

Similarly, Lila doesn't really like staying at the palace, in fact she stays mostly out of it. The palace represents for her a still life that goes on every day in the same manner, with no excitement, no thrill, no adventure. Boring. Royals are also expected to behave in a certain way and Lila doesn't like being told what to do nor how to behave. The first night back in Red London, she goes back to the room at the tavern to sleep, but Kell isn't there. She tries to sleep alone but the bed is just too empty without Kell, so she goes back to the palace because he is there. Lila stays at the palace for Kell and we see how fast she falls asleep next to him. Kell is her safe harbor, to use a sea metaphor (lol). Being a safe harbor means "being safe for a ship" and we can say that Kell is the only reason she is willing to stay at the palace (Alucard might be her friend but he wouldn't be reason enough for her to stay there, I think). Kell is the only reason "worth staying put", to use something Alucard tells her.

My lady, my prince

At the palace, she also hates being called mas arna/my lady because she feels like that term diminishes her status as Antari and captain, the statuses she mostly identifies with. See how her crew on the ship calls her captain because they respect her status. Alucard also often calls her by surname and treats her like an equal captain like him. Kell also dislikes being called mas vares/my prince but we see how, after his power is broken, it seems like he clings to the status of prince more because that's what is left of his identity at that moment (even though it hurts all the same and he feels like the red coat doesn't fit him). He also took on the role of Kay the privateer on the ship, a role that he seems to like sometimes, mostly in intimate situations, because it probably helps his carefree/passionate side to come out, just like Lila enjoys wearing the black mask to pretend to be someone else (it's not surprising Kay also wears a mask - Kay is like the privateer version of Kamerov, Kell's royal magician alter ego).

Independent, but connected

Kell and Lila are independent, and they are comfortable being close and alone, and at the end of the day they always come back to and for each other. At the end of the day, it's each other's face they want to see before they fall asleep. Lila doesn't like being called "the prince's promised lady" and is annoyed at the queen for even touching the subject of children and family, topics that are triggering for her and that I'm not sure she even touched with Kell himself. Their attachment style wavers from disorganized to secure (more the former than the latter, but they're headed the secure way). Lila doesn't want to lose her identity in the relationship, doesn't want to be just an accessory or a vessel to have Kell's babies to test a theory. She already considers Kell family, that's progress. For all we know, she may even consider expanding their family, but I have no clue if this will ever be discussed or not.

Lean on me

Lila finds it hard to rely on Kell not because he doesn't deliver or she doesn't trust him; on the other hand, Kell is such a caring partner, over caring even. And gentle. Unlike Kell, who lived as a prince and had everything he wanted except for freedom, which is the only thing Lila had, Lila's needs weren't met as a child thus she only accepts to lean on Kell when her bluff and "I can handle myself" façade don't match what she does. Like for example after he saves her from the Emery estate and she's too hurt to even speak or walk. Lila herself always tries to check on Kell and be there behind him whenever he is hurt. The moment Kell lends her his power with the golden ring and he is broken and unwell, Lila's first reaction is to cry (this scene is a parallel with Lila being hurt in Rosenal in ACOL). When Lila asks Tes to fix Kell, even she can tell that Lila's aggressive act is fake from the way she caresses Ren Maresh's hair gentler than usual or she doesn't bat an eyelash when Tes tells her she needs a thread of her magic to fix Kell. This is a woman who would die to keep the man she loves alive. Even the thing she whispers into Kell's ear: "There is nowhere you go that I cannot follow," speaks volumes. She's basically telling Kell that she's going to follow him anywhere he went to take him back. Or maybe she's hinting at the fact that now part of her magic will be in him - she also lent him her magic, her magic will "follow" him wherever he goes.

The threads that bind: ship ring/gold ring The ship ring and the gold power-stealing ring are an interesting way to see the way Kell and Lila developed personally and romantically throughout the book. Kell never saw the ship ring as a bonding ring the way Lila saw it. To him, the ring was a token to stay connected and to help each other in times of danger. To her, the ring meant commitment, engagement. In the end, Lila truly needs help and Kell comes to her rescue. The reaction Lila has is the same she has in ADSOM when Holland uses her as bait to lure Kell to him: she's surprised and relieved he came for her. She probably thought he would think the ring had a glitch, but Kell used his magic even it hurt him to go to her. Even so, the outcome is positive because the rings were made for a good reason. Later on, when they need to close the door to nowhere, Kell suggests they use the gold ring that steals a person's power so he can lend his to her. Again, Lila doesn't want to risk it, in fact it's Kell who literally shoves the ring on her finger and the other band on his wrist, and his power breaks down even more. This is also a bond, and it doesn't surprise me that the bands are gold like the ones that are used during the vows in a Red London royal wedding. Except in this case, even though Lila knows how to handle Kell's power, the outcome is negative.

It doesn't surprise me Kell's power is fixed thanks to one of Lila's magical threads and that in the end, Lila is wearing the ship ring proudly as if that was truly an engagement ring. This is a new step into their relationship and personal experience and it's character development, and I can't wait what's in store now that Kell is back to being his magical self.

#threads of power #kell maresh #lila bard #kellila #kell x lila #adsom #shades of magic #a darker shade of magic #a gathering of shadows #a conjuring of light #the fragile threads of power #my posts 3

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dailycharacteroption · 7 months

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Instinctive Metaphysicist (Starfinder Archetype)

(art by dendysetiady on DeviantArt)

When Pathfinder tapped into a few disparate elements of D&D 3.5’s Psychic Handbook in order to bring psychic magic into their setting, they mostly took the names of certain classic spells and pretty much dropped the rest, eschewing the crystals and pseudoscience in favor of actual historic looks into mentalism and claims of psychic phenomena.

One of the things they brought up was mindscapes, metaphorical psychic landscapes that translate the inner workings of a living mind into a form that the mortal mind can understand, and more importantly, can be described in exciting ways for the players.

Now, while the binary mindscapes associated with psychic duels had pretty clearly laid out rules for how they work, the more in-depth personal mindscapes are rather… rules-lite, shall we say? On the one hand this is good because it means that the GM has leeway to do whatever here. On the other, it’s extremely frustrating since the mindscape chapter did a poor job of inspiring what you MIGHT do with such things. Healing someone’s mind by fighting painful memories or outside influence, extracting information with a literal mind-heist, or damaging a mental construct representing some psychic power in an enemy are all fine and dandy ideas. It’s a pity that the game doesn’t really give you an upper limit on what you can actually do to a person with a single casting of mindscape door.

In essence, exactly what you can do with mindscapes is left wholly in the GM’s hands, making someone’s mind into basically a weird sort of dungeon where you often have to get in and find a way out of someone’s mind, especially if they know you’re digging around. This also means that your GM is going to be in a lot of pain if you cast that spell a lot on people that are not who you’re meant to dive into in the story.

So with that in mind, I had hoped that the Starfinder delve into mindscapes would be a bit more detailed, but instead I was disappointed still, partially because of today’s subject.

Now with that preamble out of the way, I present our subject, the Instinctive Metaphysicist!

As the name suggests, this archetype refers to a person who, due to exposure to them, knows their way around mindscapes in ways that many others do not. They may not even be particularly potent psychics, but they have a knack for navigating and utilizing mindscapes in their work, though some of the more powerful can manifest constructs of their imagination into reality.

Despite my dislike of how some abilities of this archetype are handled, this archetype has a sort of… ancient mystic vibe to it which I do appreciate, like some wizened elder who was never formally trained but has a deeply insightful understanding of the mind from decades of practice.

It’s also notable that this archetype is heavily associated with (but not exclusive to) uplifted bears due to their psychic abilities and yearning for a cultural identity, which has given rise to the “Endless Forest”, which is either a collective mindscape of their people, or perhaps a recurring framing device for personal mind palaces that they create, depending on how you look at it.

When taking a longer rest, these psychonauts can retreat into themselves to recover much faster than others, and even use this reclusion to fight off mental effects, though they become insensate while their thoughts are deep within their own heads.

The more powerful among them can flex their minds to bring forth objects or illusions from their minds into reality for a short while, ranging from small physical objects to complex illusions and later even full illusionary environments.

Finally, they can also attempt to pull a foe into a binary mindscape to duel them, allowing them to fight directly with the foe in the landscape of the mind. However, the rules for this are much less robust than Pathfinder’s psychic duels, and is confusingly worded.

While the rest of the archetype is fine, the fact that the final ability is basically instigate psychic duel, a 1st level spell in Pathfinder, is annoying to me, especially since this is the only officially printed way for characters to do so in Starfinder without conversion or homebrewing. Beyond that, however, the archetype is simple enough, and being able to create illusionary terrain or temporary objects can be useful in the right situations. As such, you can mostly build your character as normal with these abilities to supplement it. I can see both spellcasters with a psychic bent taking it, as well as those of a less mystical persuasion having a knack for mindscapes.

Even without having any abilities that directly affect mindscapes, this archetype does make for an intriguing ability set. One has to imagine that these characters often contemplate what the nature of reality and imagination are. Some may seek to understand the cosmos more, while others may dream of being the masters of their own mental reality.

What began as an exercise in meditation and autohypnosis has warped into something stranger as ascetic guru Palani’s “Rock by the Sea” has evolved into a collective mindscape of his many fans and followers. Completely out of his depth, the charlatan seeks to develop this into a cult, but in truth, he is not the real cause of this psychic construct, and he certainly isn’t its master.

Kogress of the 40th battalion will never pick up a doshko again, not after the horrors he witnessed. The old vesk would love nothing more than to move on from those times, but those horrors will not let him be, or rather, his subconcious mind will not, projecting the memories of that battlefield into a hellscape that surrounds him whenever he grows stressed.

The xararians, a human-like species ruled by a mageocracy that fears religion and technology as threats to their absolute power, have long held the wider galaxy in grim contempt as they try to keep their people isolated. However, a new threat to the regime grows from within, as more and more people are touched by what could be called a contagious dream, one that offers freedom and equality.

#starfinder #archetype #instinctive metaphysicist #vesk #uplifted bear #xararian #starfinder 23 Hive of Minds

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wyvernquill · 2 years

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I am BEGGING for more anastasia au. I need Dream to realize what Hob has done for him twice over and reckon with the fact he sent Hob away so coldly! So cruelly! I wanna grab him by his scrawny shoulders and give him a good rattling to get that brain working!!

Soooo this was HIGHLY requested, Dream Finding Out, and while I did write up the Bad Ending version of that already over here, now it's time for the proper scene! All 3k words of it. It got long. Hope you enjoy, everyone!

I also set up a masterpost for the AU here, which I've pinned and will update as I post new parts!

(Tag list: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-kingdom and finally @acedragontype too because of the ask answer included here.)

Dream is given a room.

It is strange and uncomfortable, to live with his siblings, and in such a humble abode. Part of him misses his palace, the endless expanse of the Dreaming, and another part thinks this is far too grand a place for a man who had spent the past few years mostly sleeping rough.

(And yet another part thinks longingly of modest little inns or ship cabins or train compartments, of uncomfortable train station benches barely wide enough for two but now fitting three, his head on Hob's shoulder as they are both dozing off - but he does not pay much heed to that part.

It was a temporary delusion. A lovely dream.

It's over now.)

Still, he is glad for it. In an exhausted, melancholy way, perhaps, but still he is glad. Before… before Murphy, he had thought he would never see any member of his family again (except, perhaps, Death, at the end), would never walk free, would never regain even a fraction of the powers humanity has robbed him of - this is a gift. This little magical refuge-space for what remains of the Endless, the scraps of magic he feels flickering in his ruby, Matthew faithful by his side - it is more than cruel and greedy humans would have wanted him to have, so he is glad.

Though it is not so easy, some days, to remind himself of that.

"Dream?"

"Dear sister." Dream raises his head from a collection of plays he has found in the House's modest library, and gestures to invite Death into the room. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You weren't at dinner, I wanted to check up on you. See if you were alright. And…" Death holds up a plate. "...also to bring you some sandwiches."

"That is kind of you." Dream avoids her gaze. "I merely felt unfit for company tonight. And require no sustenance, in any case."

"Don't you?" Death sets the plate down on the low table next to Dream's armchair, and pulls another up opposite him. "Destiny does, now. Desire too, I think, though of course they don’t like to admit it. Despair feels heat and cold - you've seen her in her new knitwear, haven't you - and Delirium has a human's sense of balance. Very frustrating for her, as I'm sure you can imagine."

Dream glances up, frowning.

"We have been weakened, Dream. Damaged." Death points out, carefully, gently, with a sad smile. "All of us. We are Endless, still, of course, and we will rebuild, recover our realms and tools and powers eventually - but, for now, perhaps for a long while yet, we aren't as we were. New requirements, new struggles. We don't have daily dinners the way we used to have "family dinners" - our brother and sibling need to eat and drink, and we eat with them to show we care and are there for them in their time of need."

"Ah." Dream swallows. "I will… make efforts to attend. From now on."

"Good." Death smiles, approving. "You were missed, Dream. Dearly missed. We are all ever so glad to have you back."

"Even Desire?"

"Especially Desire."

A moment of silence.

Death nudges the plate of sandwiches closer, and Dream takes one, tearing off bits to feed to Matthew on his shoulder - and, when Death raises an eyebrow, to nibble at himself.

(Sharing all his food with his birds was ever Murphy’s habit, and Dream finds it hard to shake, the pattern of feeding Matthew first and foremost.)

"What of you?" He asks, after a tiny bite.

"Hm?" Death blinks.

"What new painfully human need do you suffer from, sister?"

Death grimaces, a little awkwardly.

"...I need to sleep. Every night." She finally admits. "And I was glad for it."

She leans out of her armchair, putting her hand on his knee.

"It made me feel just a little closer to my lost brother."

Dream regards her hand - and then moves his own from the armrest, covering hers with it.

(Murphy used to scoff at Death of the Endless, offering up immortality for the safe return of her brother. Had thought it foolish, to offer so much for a wisp of hope, to potentially give immortal life to someone cruel and undeserving.

He understands better, now, he remembers - Death loves him, and he loves her, and there is nothing else that could possibly matter.)

"Are… are you okay?" Death asks, softly, concern seeping through the gentle lines of her face. "Be honest, now, Dream. Please. I worry, and if there is anything we can help you with-"

“I am well, my sister.” Dream says. And then, for the sake of honesty, “or as well as one can be, under the circumstances.”

Death keeps watching him with something imploring in her gaze, so he continues, haltingly.

“I… I am ill-used to these circumstances, still, which are a great improvement over my time as… my absence, and are yet much worse than what I was accustomed to before.” Dream confesses, slowly. “My people have been greatly diminished, and I grieve for them. I grieve for my home, my realm - as all of us Endless do. I thank you for your concern, sister, but there is no aid you could render me that I do not already receive.”

“I can at least listen and be there.” A last squeeze to his hand, before she leans back into her seat. “And assure you that your people are much better for having you returned to them. They were flocking here even before, and… to be honest, none of us were entirely sure what to do with them.”

“Lucienne has told me as much.” Dream inclines his head in acknowledgement. “And I shall see what can and must be done. More nightmares have survived and returned than dreams, so I must make some anew to restore the balance - or change nightmares to dreams. Gault has already volunteered, and I shall grant her request as soon as I have strength enough in me to attempt it.”

(In the past, he might have refused - but his years as Murphy have taught Dream many things about the self, about change… and about the discomfort of existing as one thing when part of you yearns to be another. He will not change any against their will, as the Magus attempted and half-succeeded to do to Dream - but this is Gault’s earnest wish, and they have all lost so much, must all arrange themselves with these new circumstances.

He should like to gift her a little happiness, where he can.)

“Good. I’m happy for her.” Death smiles. "Speaking of your Major Arcana - Gilbert is somewhat anxious that you're going to unmake him. Or at least I assume as much, from him asking some rather philosophical questions about whether dreams die the same way living things do."

Dream knows, and Dream knows he should. With his powers reduced so, he cannot risk keeping a Dreaming creature close who might be… convinced to scheme against him and his. Fiddler's Green was equally complicit in the plot to trick the Endless, just as guilty as Hob. And yet…

"I cannot find it in my heart to punish him for his transgression." Dream half-sighs, fondly. Dear, foolhearted Gilbert. "It is in his nature to mean well, that is how I made him. He is not greedy and cruel as humans are."

"Humans aren't 'as greedy and cruel as humans are', Dream." Death points out, frowning lightly. "Some are, yes. I can't and won't deny that. Others are kind and generous and loving in ways we Endless can hardly fathom. Would you say all dreams are horrid things designed to frighten only because nightmares exist?"

"That is not the same."

"Isn't it?"

Another moment of quiet.

And then Death says, knowingly, “it’s not about humanity as a whole at all, is it? You’re angry with Hob Gadling in particular.”

Dream tenses at the name.

“Aren’t you?” He shoots back. “It is you he swindled and schemed against.”

“Who is talking of swindling? What schemes?” Death shrugs. “I asked for my brother back. He delivered. Impeccable service is what I’d call that.”

“Pure happenstance.” Dream would have spat out the words, if that sort of behaviour wasn’t so beneath one of the Endless. “He is a man of good fortune, not of sound morals. I despise him for it.”

“I don’t. I won’t.” His sister insists, unwavering. “He protected you, Dream, he saved your life many times over, and without him, I wouldn’t be sitting here now, talking to my little brother, seeing him alive and well. I’m going to be grateful to Hob Gadling until the heat death of the universe, and perhaps, who knows, in whatever comes afterwards, too.”

Dream swallows a scoff.

"Well. I cannot deny that he fought fiercely… to protect his chance at your boon." He mutters bitterly. "That I represented it was but coincidence. Even now, with his assurance that he will eliminate the assassin who has been pursuing us, I am sure he does so only out of self-interest."

"...what," says Death.

"Did he not tell you? There was a man attempting to kill me - I did not recognise him at the time, though I suspect I might recall him now - and Hob Gadling intends to do away with him." Another scoff that Dream cannot suppress, this time. "I should not trust him with it, but he has offered - and with his newfound immortality, he is quite ideal for the task."

"His immorta-" There is something strange and stricken in his sister's face now. "Dream. Do you think- has he not told you?"

It is Dream's turn now, to say "what", a strange sense of foreboding settling in his chest. Death is fixing him with the sort of expression he recalls from accompanying her on her daily business, tender and compassionate and apologetic, on the brink of imparting the worst of news - though there is a private horror in the depth of her eyes.

"Oh, Dream," she whispers, reaching for his hand again. "Dream."

"My sister, what is it that I do not know?" Dream feels himself teeter on the brink of panic, gripping her fingers tightly. "What has Hob Gadling done?"

"He refused the reward, Dream." Death tells him, with grief and condolences echoing in her voice. "He's as mortal as any man."

"No," says Dream.

"No!" he snarls, tearing his hand from Death's, rising so abruptly that Matthew squawks and flutters off his shoulder. "You lie! He would have- he would have said-"

"Lie? I would never lie to you!" Death rises too, anger sparking in her eyes. "I thought you knew! Lucienne said he spoke to you!"

"Not about this!" Dream thunders, pacing back and forth, robe swirling dark and angrily around his form. He has fallen now, right off of the cliff, into an abyss of terror, and feels himself drowning. "Why would he- impossible! He must be- what if he tricked you-!"

Something bounces off of the side of his head. Death has thrown one of the sandwiches at him.

"Give me some credit here!" She snaps. "I'm Death of the bloody Endless, I know if I've given a guy immortal life or not! And I haven't! Because he said he does not deserve a reward for trying to trick us!"

("I would give you another boon," Death had offered, frowning, after Hob's polite and apologetic - and insincere, he had wanted immortality still and was forcefully and reluctantly denying himself - refusal. "Whatever you wish for. You have given me back my brother, I would see you rewarded for it."

"Unfortunately," Hob had sighed, his eyes sad and yearning and wistful, "I want only two things, first and foremost. One is immortality, which I have not earned. And the other is something you cannot give me, kind lady, and without which immortality would not be half as sweet besides." A bitter laugh. "I am sure I needn't say more."

He had not. Death understood.)

Dream blinks at Death once, twice - and then turns away, pressing his bony palms hard against his eyes (they burn and yet leak fluid both at the same time), breaths coming in short gasps.

He does not normally need to breathe, he doesn't think, but he needs it now, the hollow star-cavern of his chest tight and constricted as if it held human lungs, a human heart - which it does not. It cannot. Not anymore.

“Dream-” He hears Death behind him, Matthew’s worried and imploring caw - but all he can think of is wiping Hob Gadling’s precious life’s blood from his injured cheek, and sharing a breath (nearly more) for one slow, tender second. Of strong hands holding him close, of smiles and winks, of that final exchange and the tears in Hob’s eyes.

Farewell forever, indeed! Hob certainly intended it to be, that accursed man, intended to go and die and leave Dream-

“Do it now!” Dream bursts out - and how shameful it is that he loses control of himself so in his frantic desperation, no better than he was as a human - and whirls around to face Death again. “Sister, you must do it now - give him his immortality, he is a fool, he knows not what he rejects! Ignore his foolish protests, he has served you well, has placed himself in great peril for me, give him his reward!”

“I-” Death begins, but Dream does not let her speak. He swears he can feel a heart thudding a panicked beat in his chest, and it hurts.

“My sister, please!” He grasps her hands, his own shaking. “Whoever pursued us is no match for a mortal man, he is throwing his life away, I know it! Do not let him die, do not take him from me-”

“Dream!” Death’s voice is sharp enough to cause him to falter. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Dream wavers, shivers, and Death gentles, though her face remains lined with worry and frustration.

“The reach of my powers isn’t what it once was, I don’t have that level of control over life and death anymore. I could make him immortal if he stood in front of me, but not… not like this.” Dream can tell it isn’t easy for her to admit this, to not be the supportive, steadfast older sister she has been to her siblings through this disaster. “By the Creator, Dream, why couldn’t you have talked all of this out with him sooner!? Now look at the mess we’ve gotten ourselves in!”

“If he stood in front of you? You could shield him then?” Dream repeats, seizing on those words like a cat on an unsuspecting mouse, grasping at them like a lifeline. “I shall bring him before you, then, if that is what it takes.” A breath, shuddering, not as unnecessary as it by all rights ought to be. “Yes, I shall do that. Lucienne!”

He begins pacing again, as Lucienne slips into the room, her eyes flickering only briefly from Death’s harried expression of concern to Dream’s agitation, stopping only briefly at the thrown sandwich now on the floor - before a mask of professionalism slides over her face.

“I am at your service, my Lord.” She produces a quill and book from thin air. “Your orders?”

Ah, Lucienne. He has missed her, even when he didn’t know who or what he was missing, missed her clipped, practical nature, and unwavering support. She will serve him well, in this matter and any other.

(Sometimes, as Murphy, he stole books he liked the look of, hoarded them with vague plans of giving them to… someone or other, he’d never known who.

Those books are long gone, now. Sold, when the hunger and the cold became too much to bear, taken by police constables who’d caught wise of his thievery, or simply lost to the elements. But he knows who they were for, now. At least that.)

“Gather any suitable dream-creatures and tell them they are to find Hob Gadling and bring him here.” Dream instructs her, hoping the sharpness of his voice will disguise the tremor in it. “He cannot have gotten far - concentrate the search on this city, and impress on them that speed is of the utmost importance. Whoever finds him may name their reward, whatever is in my power they may have, I care not - only bring him here.”

A minute uptick of Lucienne’s brows as she notes this down, but she clearly knows better than to question Dream’s sudden change of policy in the matter of Hob Gadling. He will explain it to her - but not now, when time is of the essence.

“And, Lucienne?” Dream calls after her as she is already slipping out of the room again. “Hob is to be brought to me alive, and of sound body and mind. He is to be handled with care.”

“...alive?” She repeats, gaze once more flickering over to Death, brows drawing together. “Pardon me, but I was under the impression that he-”

“He’s not.” Death shakes her head, as grimly as Dream has ever seen her.

“Oh.” Lucienne blinks - and then says “oh!” again, eyes widening as understanding dawns in them. “...I see.”

A curt bow to Dream, to Death - and then she is gone. Dream has every trust that she will organise the search with all due haste and utmost efficiency, particularly now that she has… some inkling, of what has prompted Dream’s sudden concern for Hob Gadling’s person.

“You as well, Matthew.” Dream runs a finger over the raven’s wing. “Go and find him for me. Call on all the birds in the sky, have them aid us in this search.”

Matthew ducks his head, caws his agreement - and with a beat of his wings, passes through the border of this tucked-away in-between space into the human world, leaving nothing but a few feathers behind.

And then it is only Dream and Death.

For a moment, they stand together in silence.

And then Death walks up to him, and wraps him in her arms, wordlessly, a silent reassurance - silent, because they both know that she cannot in good faith promise him that all will be well, that Hob will be safe.

She has no control over it, and neither does Dream.

Dream turns his face into her hair, and understands, now, how she felt for near a decade; waiting, and fearing, and hoping, always hoping, for the safe return of one she loved.

#WyWrites #WyAnswers #dreamling #the sandman #anastasia dreamling au #can you tell that i love death (the character)?#she gets to throw a sandwich at her brother as a treat #thank you everyone for these asks!#i can tell everyone is aching for the resolution #but i might go back and fill in some of the blanks at the start next #the first meeting maybe i've got some ideas for that #i do so love dream experiencing panic though #and feeling so much more human for it #lucienne must have been so confused though #dream went from 'i do not care about hob gadling he is nothing to me'#to 'i will promise anything in my power for his safe return'#in the span of one (1) conversation with his sister #his priorities have been rapidly rearranged there #no time to deny you love the man if he might well be about to die for you

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sumakha · 1 year

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another NEW OC (but not really i made this guy 3 years ago) ALERT!!! everyone please welcome surissesh. or dont because he sucks (read below the cut to find out why!)

surissesh is the royal advisor for king iunekitann of annoshik, and part of the story i mentioned here. currently hes... kind of a one-note character, just some megalomaniac who wants power for power's sake and double-crosses everyone he works with in order to ascend to the throne. i will probably add more Meat to him character-wise later on though, since he is the main villain.

however he is not the only new character here as you can see. on the left scene in the second pic we have keyopha, the leader of iuraph. she recruited surissesh to assassinate king iunekitann, then manipulate his son kontekitann into giving control of gnemmia to iuraph. gnemmia has a lot of fertile land and a mountain range with a LOT of magic crystals growing inside it, so the three major powers of sumakha (annoshik, iuraph, and janggok) all want control over it. she gave surissesh the magic weapon he's brandishing in the first pic in order to kill the king and threaten the rest of the royal family/staff into compliance, while also having one of her own men follow surissesh to make sure that if he used the weapon for his own gain, he would be killed on the spot. unfortunately for her, surissesh isn't an idiot, and by the time he Does start using the weapon for himself, keyopha's men are already dealt with.

gnemmia is a highly sought-after territory... with people already living there, who don't like being occupied. the rebel group (whose individual members don't have names yet bc these are even OLDER ocs that i rebooted so they need to be reworked) were mostly dedicated to taking out annoshiki outposts in gnemmia one-by-one until they started working with surisessh. their plan was to have surisessh help them get into the palace to assassinate the king, then kill him immediately and occupy the palace themselves as part of freeing gnemmia. right when their assassin (the ketvidae in the pic) has finished killing the king, he turns his blade on surissesh, but surissesh reveals keyopha's weapon and completely blasts his head off. while the rebels did plan for surissesh fighting back, they hadn't planned for him having a weapon of this caliber, leaving them scrambling for a new strategy.

while surissesh could have likely risen to power just through intimidation, he justifies his uprising by claiming to be an agent of kennemikannosh, the patron deity of annoshik. i will probably make a different lore post about kennemikannosh in the future, but for now, all you need to know is that it looks like this ⬇️ and that annoshik is a divine monarchy, so surissesh's claim of being a prophet is taken seriously.

OKAY that's all the lore i really want to write out today. after finals (or as a break from studying for them LOL) i will finally do a bullet point outline of this story so its not all in my brain. and i'll see if i can actually figure out a name for it. also shoutout to my flight rising dragon ghirahim (and also the original ghirahim from loz skyward sword) he was a big inspiration for surissesh's design :-)

#art #furry #fantasy #surissesh #keyopha #(rebels will be added to tags once i figure out their names)#pemadae #homidae #bumidae #atridae #ketvidae #untitled eki story

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faefum · 3 days

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haha jumpscare, a nerve exploded and then i had the idea to like revamp my twst OCs in a major and minor way, if there are typos I'm not sorry

I WANT ENGAGEMENT PLEASE SHARE TO ME YOUR OCS AND HOW THEY MIGHT INTERACT WITH MINE IM BEGGING

CHANGES:

- Carmin's a girl now (for nearly two years, i kept on switching between the character being a boy, girl, or straight up just being non-binary or genderfluid. after thinking about how i would want her character + story to develop as similarly as i can to Eilonwy's arc, i left her as a girl)

- Thora's still the same (i really should give him more attention bruh)

- their looks idk man

Thora Griffith (left) 🛡️

Erinne Pelagic (right) 🌘

Erinne Pelagic

Clothed in white, continuously shining, and the glowing pride of the Moonbrine, Erinne has no shortage of power that she uses well to her people's needs. Mostly the judge, but often the executioner.

BIRTHDAY: March 3rd (Pisces)

AGE: 18

HEIGHT: 179 cm (5'10" ft)

DOMINANT HAND: Left

HOMELAND: Moonbrine

SCHOOL: (was homeschooled, still)

HOBBIES: Signing documents

PET PEEVES: Mistreatment

FAVORITE FOOD: Aberffraw biscuits

LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Escargot

TALENT: Bargaining

BASED ON: Eilonwy (The Black Cauldron, Chronicles of Prydain)

PERSONALITY

She is a level-headed, graceful, and stern individual who will not spend a single moment second-guessing her every move. As the Princess of the Moonbrine, Erinne is responsible for a shockingly vast majority of the kingdom's local and overseas politics, showing herself off as a worthy member of any court. Despite her rather daunting titles and positions—however vague those could often be, Erinne never lets the status get through her head, remaining humble yet mindful of what her mere presence could offer.

Knowledgeable of both traditions and laws, she is quick to correct those who break them but provide second chances when necessary. Erinne is open-minded to change and latter perspectives, acknowledging faults and differences in her or others' decisions and/or plans. Having been taught personally by the enigmatic Moonbrine Queen herself, Erinne is well-educated in nearly all matters of life. With this knowledge, she spoils her friends. "Not my money," she says. Technically.

But despite her amiable yet regal, external persona, Erinne is no doormat. Her hair looks like fire for a reason and controlled inside her head is an anger that very rarely explodes. While her patience often puts her as a saint, one might see a tiny slip in her expression—a twitch of the eye or a falter of her smile, and could only hope that the room has enough escape routes. Stay enough for longer, and one might even hear her curse. And also yell. Make sure to get a lobotomy right after for privacy's sake. Another part of her is that no matter how she is kept in the palace with duties and such, she makes time to roam around in the wilderness nearby. Often barefoot. It's a habit and a way of relaxation she still hasn't lost and wouldn't dream of losing it. Because who cares.

To whoever read the last post about these two with my Yuu in it, I mentioned something about the aunt—the name I haven't decided yet—not being an actual family member. Erinne is mighty suspicious of this but despite her own status, cannot do much about it because the queen is currently untouchable. Think of that as you will.

UNIQUE MAGIC - 'Luster Revelation'

Luster Revelation summons a glowing, golden bauble that Erinne could either hold or set flying in the air—she can control its direction. Whatever the light of the bauble touches reveals what she yearns to know; magical traces and their owners (who - the true name, what - the spell casted, when - the date).

It takes a bit of mana, but it's nothing Erinne can't handle.

TLDR: Erinne makes a floating scanner and fact checks you live. May or may not cause mental damage.

Thora Griffith

The stalwart vice-president of Royal Sword Academy's Fencing Club and a diligent second-year of the school. He co-leads his club and his class with a mild demeanor, a deadpanned expression, and a mysterious past. Mostly the executioner, but often the jury.

BIRTHDAY: October 27th (Scorpio)

AGE: 17

HEIGHT: 189 cm (6'2" ft)

DOMINANT HAND: Right

HOMELAND: Moonbrine

SCHOOL: Royal Sword Academy (Sophomore)

HOBBIES: Fencing

PET PEEVES: Laziness

FAVORITE FOOD: Pot roast

LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Charred food

TALENT: Blastcycling

BASED ON: Taran (The Black Cauldron, Chronicles of Prydain)

PERSONALITY

Thora is as stoic as he looks, a well-put young man with a glare that could either send comfort or send folks running. To both teachers and peers alike, he is a responsible and reliable student who puts studies first and indulgences later. Saying that, he crams because he's often too busy playing with his cat. In the classroom, he'd be the type to let you sleep but wake you up when anything happens because, well, you're still in class. In the sparring field, he'd beat you ruthlessly and help patch up your wounds afterwards.

I would like to add that a lot of his personality, with a few add-ons and changes, he got from Erinne from basically sticking with her during their childhood. Their relationship is that they're both close childhood friends with sometimes way too much time on their hands that they end up making calls late at night just to trash other people. Thora's personality definitely helped simmer Erinne, but in turn she ignited a few un-gentlemanly parts of himself. For one, he is actually petty. Overall, Thora is a good person who would hold himself to his promises (he'd die if he won't /j), and respects and honors even his opponents. But by the Seven, you do something that even inconveniences him in the slightest, he'll do something about it. Hate is one thing but annoyance is another, and Thora's usually so easy-going that it's hard to get him to actually hate people. He can be mean, but make sure that it never happens. Thora feels low-key ashamed of it but he still acts like a hater.

He could be quite grateful to whoever helps him out and vows to be with them in their trying time, like Silver except if Silver had a mean bone in his body. Thora is fiercely loyal. He'd be an aggressive supporter and would definitely kill for his loved ones. Great! This goes the same for animals. Since he was a stable boy in the past, he would rather die than harm an animal, especially if they're fuzzy.

Thora doesn't talk much about his past, not that there's anything worth talking about, but because he just doesn't know the extent of his lore (and I'm still figuring it out). All he knows is that he was found as a baby, adopted, and goes to RSA. No information about his birth parents or anything. His adoptive father deflects his queries and Thora has learned to let it go, but of course, he still thinks about it.

UNIQUE MAGIC - 'Bladed Ambition'

Emitting bright energy from his person, Thora summons a massive white sword that he could control with a wave of his arm. The sword stays at a constant size of a two story building and destroys the space around it to make room for itself (when summoned). It lasts for roughly a minute before it dissipates, leaving only rubble. Rather simple.

Takes a HUGE amount of mana, so he's wary about using it because of the blot.

TLDR: Thora makes a giant blade Raiden Shogun style, and deletes your world.

TRIVIA

A few of Thora's close friends assume he has, like, a long-distance girlfriend or something. Thora only rolls his eyes but he thinks it's rather funny.

They're both very strong mages, like, very. In their lore, Thora mostly got his tutoring from Erinne herself who was getting tutored by the queen all the while (sharing the hack, basically). They learned both swordsmanship and magical techniques. Thora excelled more with swordsmanship and hand-to-hand, while Erinne excelled with magic. Ironically, Thora's UM is more destructive than hers.

Mentioned in the previous post some time before but I wanted to expand on this, Thora secretly keeps a small kitten within his dorm room, of which he shares the secret with his roommate. How he got the thing into his dorm was the most frazzled he got; Thora was nearly caught by his own housewarden when he snuck it in. Luckily, he's a swift runner. (I placed him in the hypothetical Alice dormitory until there's confirmation of the dorms in RSA.) More about the above, his housewarden eventually found out but didn't care enough to do anything about it just as long as the kitten was fine (and just as long as he could pet it when he wants). Erinne knows about this.

Despite not seeming like it, both use chronically online terms whenever they're chatting or alone together.

Erinne, when she was four, tried eating a snail and probably would have died if she hadn't slipped on the mud instead. She never shares this vivid memory to anyone.

Erinne is NOT a crowned princess.

I got tired of RSA's uniforms and decided to branch out entirely, barely keeping a few motifs but Thora's attire looks entirely new and might resemble RSA if you look hard enough.

Regarding Erinne's character history, she had many names starting with the oldest that I could remember; Elowyn, Elvira, Eiran, Eryl, Elias, Elissa, Adhika, Enlli, and Carmin. Each rendition alternated between boy and girl, the blue eyes staying consistent (with the exception of Carmin) while the hair ranged from being a light orange, blonde, black, white, pink, red, and red-golden. Her earliest concept was a Royal Sword Academy second-year with long, light orange hair.

About their hobbies; Thora is based on Taran, whose name might be based on the Celtic God of Thunder, Taranis, who was associated with the wheel. I decided to make the genius decision to have Thora be an absolute demon in doing crazy stunts with his blastcycle. He's a biker, basically. For Erinne, signing important things gives her a sense of power-tripping and it makes her feel happy and terrible at the same time.

A bit more of Thora's lore, Hen Wen from the movie and the books was supposed to be his adopted sister in her TWST form. That, or she is an orphan Yuu and the rest will meet during the Halloween event I'm still writing. This, or she becomes both Thora and Erinne's unofficial little sister who kicks off the events.

Erinne knows how to use a bow. She sucks at it, actually.

If in-game, Thora commonly uses fire attacks while Erinne does water ones. Both are heavy damage dealers.

In the original stories of both my sources (lol, click off if you haven't watched The Black Cauldron or read the Chronicles of Prydain and don't want spoilers), Taran and Eilonwy get together and even marry in the pentalogy.

#twisted wonderland #twst #artfum #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twst original character #rsa oc #original character #oc #oc art #twisted wonderland original character #royal sword academy

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moodymelanist · 2 years

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Where The Light Won't Find You Chapter Six

Happy New Year, everyone! I'm super excited to be coming back to this story and I hope you are too. The feedback has been so wonderful so far, and that makes me even more inspired to write it. I have the next chapter mostly done, so hopefully that will be coming next week! Until then, please enjoy :-)

Read on AO3 here!

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Cassian

Cassian was rooted to the spot for a few long moments before he came back to his senses. Lucien was long gone, and his family would be demanding answers soon. He needed to come up with something plausible, because explaining he’d had a feeling wouldn’t be sufficient justification for letting Lucien escape.

Just in case, he performed a quick search of Nesta’s old apartment. Other than whatever Lucien had done, the apartment seemed to be undisturbed, but it was just as decrepit as ever. Cassian didn’t think he’d ever understand how she’d ever been able to stomach living here — she deserved palaces and estates, not a place that only got hot water on a good day.

Cassian took one last look around and sighed heavily before leaving. He slowly began making his way to the river house, having decided to walk instead of fly so he’d have more time to clear his head. Lucien’s words had struck him right to the core, and he couldn’t show up to face his family like that.

The last thing he needed was Rhys to see right through him without listening to a single thought.

Cassian just couldn’t get over how Lucien had known every button to press, every shoved-down feeling to drag back up to the surface kicking and screaming. Now that he was gone, Cassian would readily admit that Lucien had been right — Cassian truly didn’t know how he’d been able to stand it. He knew that his family was going to count this against Nesta, even though Lucien hadn’t even really confirmed if he’d taken Elain, let alone why.

You’d really risk her life? he’d asked Cassian. You know what they’ll do to her.

The worst part was that Cassian knew exactly what they wanted to do. Mor had already been talking about acts of aggression and war, and that was before Cassian had let Lucien slip through his fingers. If Lucien’s allegiances had changed, it would only be a matter of time before Rhys decided to take matters into his own hands. Rhys had been the one to pressure Feyre into intervening with Nesta’s life in the first place, and he’d probably do the same when he decided enough was enough.

Nesta was powerful, yes, but she’d barely trained her magic while she’d been in Velaris. How could she be a match for Rhys, who’d had centuries to hone his skills? Against someone like Azriel, who had mastered hiding in the shadows in wait? Hell, even Mor could strike Nesta down with a well-timed blow — could all the raw power in the world really keep Nesta alive if his family decided to strike?

At that gods-awful thought, Cassian had to stop and lean against the nearest building to force himself to breathe. His chest was so tight that it was a miracle he could get in any air at all, and his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears he could barely take in his surroundings. The idea of Nesta being struck down was so repulsive to him, so gut-wrenchingly wrong, that his body couldn’t physically handle it. How could he be expected to stand by and allow them to do that to her? Just thinking about all the awful things that could happen to her made him desperate to throw himself in front of her, to protect her with his own flesh and blood when nothing else could.

Eventually, he managed to catch his breath and calm himself enough to start walking toward the river house again. If nothing else, he needed to be there as the voice of reason, to hopefully keep his family in check so he could keep Nesta as safe as he could.

When Cassian arrived at the house, he realized he was the last person to come back. Everyone was already assembled in the study to wait for him, and he refused to falter under the weight of all those combined gazes. “Sorry for being late to the party.”

“I guess you saw Lucien,” Rhys said once he noticed the state of Cassian’s shirt. “What happened?”

“He got away,” Cassian answered, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lied to his family, especially over something this serious, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to justify why he’d let Lucien go. If he wanted to keep Nesta as safe as he could, this was the best course of action. “He blasted me and winnowed out before I could stop him.”

His brother’s violet eyes lingered on him for a moment before he nodded. “He’s not called the fox for nothing.”

“He had to have known we’d be looking for him,” Feyre said with a disappointed shake of her head. “Did he say anything to you before he attacked you?”

Cassian supposed he could mix in some truths to his answers. “He wouldn’t give me a straight answer about whether he’d taken Elain, but I didn’t notice her scent on him.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved,” Mor pointed out. “Where did you end up seeing him?”

“Outside Nesta’s old apartment building, actually,” he answered without looking at her. “I don’t know what he took, but he had something in his hands when I got there.”

“She could’ve sent him to retrieve something for her,” Azriel suggested quietly. “We just packed the obvious things when we moved her — clothes, shoes, books that she left out. She easily could’ve hidden something that we missed.”

They lapsed into silence for a few moments before Feyre broke it. “So… what should we do now?”

“We don’t know what she’s planning,” Azriel answered, his voice still deathly soft. “It would be premature to move before we know what her end goal is.”

“She killed my father and slaughtered all his advisors,” Mor snapped. “She stole my birthright. What else do we need to wait for?”

“I’m sure Azriel is just as aware of that as the rest of us,” Feyre intervened, pinning Mor with a warning look. “We just don’t want to be too hasty. Or make any unnecessary mistakes.”

“You’re right,” Mor replied. She made a show of calming down, pasting a sunny smile over her features in a poor attempt to hide the anger simmering underneath. “What do you have in mind, then?”

“I think we should try to reason with her before we jump to answering with aggression,” Feyre responded diplomatically. “I know she’s done some terrible things, and I know you want retribution. But I don’t want to jump to violence if we don’t have to.”

“And if she doesn’t give up this farce?” Mor pressed. “What then, Feyre? Maybe you’re fine with turning a blind eye, but I won’t stand—”

“Morrigan,” Rhys thundered, night-kissed power leaking from him as he rounded on his cousin. “That is enough. I won’t let you disrespect my mate in my presence. Do you understand me?”

Brown met violet in a tense staredown, and Cassian watched with bated breath for Mor to stand down. Like he knew she would, she blinked first and apologized for her behavior, and Feyre nodded tightly before accepting it.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before a strange expression flitted over Rhys, Feyre, Mor, and Amren’s faces. Azriel’s shadows darkened around him a split second later, and even Cassian’s siphons rumbled in response to whatever they were all reacting to.

“What the hell was that?” Cassian asked, frowning. He hadn’t felt something like that since Hybern attacked the city, and he prayed to Enalius that they weren’t about to be attacked again.

“Did we all just feel that?” Feyre asked. Her palms erupted into flame before she reeled her power back in, but she wasn’t the only one leaking magic. Mor’s form was shimmering gold, a stark contrast to Rhys’ glittering, dark magic, and even Amren’s eyes were glowing silver.

“Yes,” Amren replied through gritted teeth. “Someone’s altered the wards.”

“What?” Mor asked, shocked. She summoned a gleaming, golden sword that reminded Cassian of the one she’d wielded in the Hewn City. “Can you sense which ones? Is Velaris in danger?”

Rhys took in a slow breath, his eyes going vacant as he searched for the answer with his magic. “No.”

“Velaris isn’t in danger, girl,” Amren added before Mor could get another word in. “Put that sword away. It’s the moonstone palace.”

Feyre spoke up next once she got her magic under control. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nesta’s finally claimed it for herself,” Azriel answered. His shadows were practically bouncing off each other, they were so agitated, but he merely waved a hand and they calmed themselves slightly. “She must have had someone re-key the wards around the palace — likely Lucien. He’s very proficient with them.”

Cassian nearly bit his tongue off trying to hold back surprised laughter. It was like Nesta had plucked the thought right out of his mind and made it happen. Part of him couldn’t help but be proud of her, even though he knew this would only continue to spell disaster.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Mor hissed under her breath. The sword she’d put away at Amren’s insistence thankfully didn’t make another appearance, but even Cassian could tell how badly she wanted to summon it again. “My birthright wasn’t enough for that greedy, conniving little bitch—”

Cassian moved without thought at that word, his wings flaring wide as he stalked toward Mor. Any amusement he’d felt at the situation had been rapidly replaced by anger burning so hot inside his veins it was a miracle his hands weren’t shaking. “Don’t you ever insult her like that again.”

“She doesn’t want you, Cassian,” Mor sneered, refusing to be cowed by the way he towered over her. “She’s not going to fuck you because you defended her nonexistent honor.”

“Take a walk,” Azriel interrupted before Cassian could get another word in, using his shadows to shove Cassian back a few steps. “Now, Cassian.”

“I’m not going anywhere until she apologizes,” Cassian snapped, his patience dangerously thin. His own magic shoved back at Azriel’s shadows, the darkness mixing with his red to produce a color that reminded him of dried blood. “This whole situation is her fucking fault and she knows it—”

“I never made her do any of this,” Mor snapped back. “I thought she’d come back a little humbled, not go on a fucking killing spree and usurp the throne!”

“You thought she needed to be humbled?” Cassian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d lost the ability to be surprised about Mor whenever Nesta was the topic of conversation, but she still managed to disappoint him all the same. “You honestly thought a twenty-five-year-old female needed to be humbled so badly that you’d willingly send her to the people who abused you? Are you hearing yourself?”

Mor shoved at him with her magic, but he refused to be moved by the golden blast. “She asked me to take her!”

“And you shouldn’t have listened to her!” Cassian yelled.

“And done what instead?” Mor sneered. “Gone to you? What part of she doesn’t want you is so hard to understand?”

“Hey!” Feyre roared, effectively ending the conversation. “That is enough. Both of you, get the fuck out. This meeting is adjourned until you both cool off.”

Mor’s eyes slid toward Rhys for confirmation, which only served to make the atmosphere in the room even tenser.

“Your High Lady gave you an order,” Rhys answered the unasked question, sliding his hands into his pockets with forced nonchalance. “I suggest you both follow it before one of us makes you.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. His blood was roaring so loudly in his ears that he knew it was for the best that he left, but it didn’t stop him from throwing one last glare in Mor’s direction before storming out of the study.

He was so pissed he barely thought about where he was going, snapping his wings out again and again as he flew as hard and fast as he could. The early autumn air had some bite to it, especially this high up, and he felt every sharp wind like a slap to the face. Flying without conjuring a shield would leave his eyes watering and his body cold, but he didn’t trust himself to call his magic any closer to the surface.

By the time he made it to the top of one of the mountains surrounding Velaris, he was still spitting mad and more than ready to take it out on something. The air was even colder this high up, but it barely even registered in the face of his rage. He landed hard against the solid earth, the impact jarring his knees, and he yanked his wings in close so they wouldn’t get snagged on any of the nearby trees.

Cassian barely spared a thought to protect his hands, reaching into one of his pockets to grab his gloves and shoving them on before he hit the nearest tree. He knew it was stupid, that he should’ve gone down to the House and used all the training equipment designed for this very purpose, but he didn’t want to risk running into anyone if he didn’t have to. He knew it wouldn’t stop his family from finding him if they really wanted to, but it felt better to be physically isolated.

The shock of the hit against his hands felt good too, even with how painful it was. His gloves weren’t as thick as they should be for this kind of exercise, and he could already feel the pain from his knuckles as he hit the bark over and over again. With every smack of his hands against the unyielding trunk, he poured more and more of his anger into his hits, his hands protesting every time they connected.

“Fuck,” Cassian snapped as he continued to pummel whatever was left of the tree in front of him. He knew the trees here had some kind of magic in their roots from how long he’d been coming up here, but for the first time in a long while he wished the enchantment would break just so he could snap something for real. What was wrong with him? Letting Lucien get away, lying to his family — he knew something was off, but he didn’t know how to explain it.

He knew the answer even though he didn’t want to admit it. Nesta was what was wrong with him, and between Lucien’s words and Mor’s insults, he could hardly bear to think about what it meant that they could rile him up so quickly at the mere mention of her name.

He didn’t want to think about it, so he just kept hitting.

Eventually, he stopped punching and just stood there breathing heavily. It had started raining, and he realized he was soaked and shivering from the chill of the unexpected storm. The next sense to come back was the pain in his hands; once he’d stopped punching, it was easy to notice how the dull pain had turned into sharp throbbing.

Cassian cursed at the sight of his knuckles once he pulled the gloves off, bloody and bruised in a way they hadn’t been in months. Even the sudden rain wouldn’t be enough to wash away all the blood, and he might have to go see Madja if he’d fucked up his hands as badly as he suspected.

What was it about Nesta that made him want to be so violent? He would tear the world apart for her, let everything burn just to bring her warmth, even when he knew she wouldn’t even look his way. He would lie for her, steal for her, demand retribution for her — even kill for her if she asked him to. Even if she didn’t ask him to. He didn’t want to know what he would do the next time someone insulted her in his presence, family ties or not. It was pure instinct to defend her in a way he’d only felt for her and only her.

Cassian’s entire body yearned to be by Nesta’s side in a way he’d never felt before. She’d always been close at hand, even when she wanted nothing to do with him, and he’d never had to wonder about her immediate safety the way he did now. Even when she’d been chasing her pleasure in the seediest parts of Velaris, they both knew he’d never been far away if she’d ever truly needed him.

But now… now, things were so different. If his family decided to strike and Cassian wasn’t there to protect her, he’d never be able to forgive himself. He’d already failed her so many times — too many times — but he couldn’t stand for this. Wouldn’t stand for this, not when her life could truly be in danger.

“Are you done sulking in the rain like a youngling?” Azriel suddenly asked from behind him.

Cassian whirled to see his brother standing before him, his siphons creating a blue shield to protect him from the worst of the rain. Once he realized Cassian was drenched in rain himself, Azriel let the magic go and let himself get just as soaked, but he didn’t seem nearly as bothered by it as Cassian did. “Well?”

“I’m not sulking,” Cassian responded, breathing hard. Whatever he’d just done, it had been far too angry to be called that. “I was just blowing off some steam.”

“If you say so.” Azriel’s wings shifted, reflexively shaking off some of the water. “We need to talk about what happened earlier.”

“Do we?” Cassian replied flatly. “You were there. You saw what happened for yourself.”

“Just because I saw what happened doesn’t mean I know why,” Azriel responded coolly.

Cassian laughed, the sound cold and ugly and without a shred of humor in it. “You know exactly why that happened, Az. Don’t be an idiot.”

Everyone knew, but they’d been dancing around it for weeks. Months and years, really, but none of that mattered when the female in question didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m not trying to be an idiot,” Azriel told him. “You’ve got that taken care of.”

“I’m not trying to—” Cassian began, but Azriel was faster.

“You’ve always been a shitty liar, Cassian,” Azriel said, shaking his head. “You’re lucky today went how it did.”

“I’m lucky?” Cassian exclaimed.

“Yes,” Azriel snapped, his cool exterior giving way to the icy rage that glittered underneath. “Lucien slipping away without much of a fight? You’re lucky Mor made you lose your temper when she did. It was only a matter of time until Feyre or Rhys started asking questions.”

“Who said anything about Lucien getting away without a fight?”

“There isn’t a single defensive wound on you. You don’t need to be a spymaster to come to the likely conclusion.”

“And what conclusion would that be?”

“That whatever he said made you think twice about hurting him, and you decided to let him go instead of doing what you were told.”

Cassian turned away, a muscle in his jaw working as Azriel hit his mark without much effort. “I was never going to hurt him. I just wanted him to tell the truth.”

“If he’d really taken Elain, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to show his face in Velaris without proof of an accepted mating bond,” Azriel replied, a tinge of annoyance coloring his words. “Lucien hasn’t stayed alive this long to start making foolish mistakes now. Someone else is pulling those strings.”

“So you let us run around on a pointless mission because…?” Cassian trailed off.

Azriel remained silent for a few moments before speaking again, his shadows growing agitated around his hands. “Because I don’t think what they’re doing is right.”

“What do you mean?” Cassian asked. His brother could’ve been referring to a lot of things, but something like hope sparked in Cassian’s chest anyway.

“It was a mistake to lock Nesta away in the first place,” Azriel eventually answered. “And to punish her for making changes in the Court of Nightmares when no one else bothered to seems… cruel.”

“You don’t think she usurped the throne?” Cassian questioned curiously. He knew how strongly Azriel felt for Mor; he wondered if that held any sway over his brother’s opinions. “That she stole Mor’s birthright?”

“Can she truly call it a birthright when she’s been content with the way things were all these years?” Azriel quietly pushed back. “When we’ve all — Mor and Rhys included — turned a blind eye to the suffering there?”

“Have you spoken to her?” Cassian asked suddenly. He’d had no idea Azriel felt this way and couldn’t help but think about the possible reasons why. “To Nesta?”

Azriel snorted. “Relax, Cassian. I haven’t spoken to her since she was here in Velaris.”

“Oh.” Cassian couldn’t hide the disappointment. He hasn’t spoken to Nesta since he’d seen her that day covered in blood and wearing a crown of bones, and he suddenly ached at the separation. Even if it was only to hurl a well-placed insult his way, he’d grown used to speaking to her every day. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Do you really think speaking to her would make a difference?” Azriel asked after a moment. He took a few steps closer to Cassian and resummoned his blue shield to protect them from the rain once he noticed Cassian shoving his hair out of his face. “Do you think she would even listen to anything you have to say?”

“I don’t know,” Cassian admitted. He knew there was a very real chance Nesta could make good on her threats, but a large part of him hoped he’d have a chance to make things right. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest without at least offering himself up. “But I have to at least try. I couldn’t live with myself if she got hurt and I did nothing. Or worse, if I helped.”

“If you go down there, you won’t be coming back the same way you left,” Azriel replied. “You might not even come back at all. Do you really want to risk that?”

Cassian set his jaw. “Yes. She’s worth it.”

“I know,” Azriel told him simply. “But I at least had to try and convince you otherwise first.”

“What?” Cassian replied, caught off-guard. “You’re not…?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Azriel cut him off with a look. “You’re my brother. If this is something you have to do, I certainly won’t stand in your way.”

“And if Rhys asks?” Cassian dared to question. He didn’t want to force Azriel into an impossible position, but Nesta’s safety was more important than that.

“I’ll deal with it,” Azriel answered with a shrug. “He needs me too much to do much, anyway.”

It was true. Shadowsingers were rare in Prythian, and having one in your court was far too valuable to throw away over a potential disagreement. Still, it was no small thing for Azriel to just brush aside, and Cassian hoped Azriel knew just how grateful he was.

“Thank you,” Cassian said emphatically.

Azriel nodded. “I know you’d do it for me.”

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Azriel made Cassian promise to at least sleep on his decision before they did anything serious about it, and so Cassian found himself flying back to the House of Wind to try and get some rest. He doubted he would get much sleep, but at minimum, he needed to do something so his hands healed right.

Instead of calling for Madja, Cassian decided to go about things the old-fashioned way. He hissed as he ran his hands under some cool water, doing his best to pick any errant pieces of bark out from between his bruised and bloody knuckles, and eventually was able to apply a salve before wrapping them gently. With any luck, the damage would be healed enough tomorrow that he wouldn’t have to walk into Nesta’s court with any visible bandages.

As he wrapped his hands, his mind traveled back to that day on the battlefield where Nesta had been the only one to notice he was injured. Gods, he’d been stupid then. How could he have turned away from her, especially after noticing the hurt look on her face? He’d give anything to go back to that moment and keep holding her hand.

There was nothing to be done about it now, though. He could only keep moving forward and keep praying that she could find it within herself to forgive him rather than put his head on a spike.

The next morning, Cassian found Azriel waiting for him at the dining table. A second, steaming plate of eggs and sausages was waiting across the table, and Cassian dutifully took his seat across from his brother.

“Well?” Azriel said after a few moments.

“I’m still going,” Cassian answered quickly. “It’s… hard being away from her.”

“I’ll take you tonight,” Azriel told him. He fixed Cassian with a flat, serious look before adding, “Assuming you actually manage to keep your head, you’ll owe me a favor.”

“Whatever you need,” Cassian agreed quickly. Owing someone a favor could be dangerous in their line of work, but he trusted Azriel with his life. He wouldn’t lord it over Cassian the way other fae might. “Thank you.”

“Remember your gratitude when I ask you for it,” Azriel replied. His tone didn’t invite a reply.

Cassian nodded and tucked into his food, though he was suddenly so nervous that he could barely hold down the food. He would be seeing Nesta tonight, and it was all he could do to stay focused on the tasks before him. He wondered how she’d changed the Hewn City, but more importantly, he wanted to know how she’d changed herself.

The day passed in a blur. Cassian did his best to behave normally as he put the males through their paces in Windhaven, but even Devlon was eyeing him strangely once training was over. Cassian didn’t let himself dwell on it; they could speculate all they liked about what was going on with him. Enalius knew they talked about him enough behind closed doors.

By the time Cassian touched back down in Velaris, he was almost too wired to think straight. Azriel hadn’t specified what time they would be meeting, but Cassian figured it wouldn’t be so late in the evening that they risked Nesta having retired for the evening. To keep himself busy, he paced around his bedroom for several minutes, agonizing over whether to pack anything, whether to bring Nesta anything, but ultimately decided he would come as himself.

He forced himself to take a bath, doing his best to scrub away the day’s grime. Thankfully, his hands had healed enough that he could remove the bandages, and although he knew Nesta would undoubtedly notice the injuries, he hoped his presence would be enough of a distraction that she wouldn’t call him out on it right away.

Once he was satisfied with his cleanliness, Cassian hauled himself out of the bath and dried off. He didn’t want to make Nesta doubt he respected her – especially not in her capacity as a ruler – so he reached for the nicest pair of leathers that he had with him. He didn’t have his ceremonial leathers with him, so these would have to do.

Eventually, Azriel came to find him. He didn’t say anything about the way Cassian was furiously polishing his siphons, but his pointed look was a comment in and of itself. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Cassian answered. He stood and took one last look around the room before following Azriel out to the balcony,

They flew to the top of the same mountain they’d talked on last night, the sky thankfully much clearer now. It was the perfect evening, with the full moon shining down from above them and the stars glittering against the dark night sky.

“I’ll winnow you as close as I can,” Azriel told him once they’d both landed. “I like my head attached to my body, so I won’t risk winnowing you inside.”

“That’s fine,” Cassian replied. “You’re saving me a lot of time as it is.”

Azriel nodded before offering Cassian one of his scarred hands. Cassian took it without hesitation, and the two of them faded into the night. Cassian much preferred his brother’s way of travel to winnowing, the shadows warm and familiar against his face, and before long the darkness disappeared in favor of the familiar gray mountains surrounding the Court of Nightmares. True to his word, Azriel had taken them as close as he could to the entrance without arousing suspicion, and Cassian looked around for a few moments before realizing they were on a plateau overlooking the entrance at the bottom of the mountain.

“Best I could do,” Azriel said with a wry smile.

“Better than me, that’s for sure,” Cassian responded with a wry smile of his own. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” Azriel answered. He extended his forearm toward Cassian and Cassian immediately reached out to grip it, both of them squeezing tightly for a few moments before letting go. “Good luck, Cass. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I won’t,” Cassian promised.

Azriel studied him quietly for a few moments before he was apparently satisfied. With a final, tense nod, he disappeared with his shadows, leaving Cassian standing alone outside the entrance to the Hewn City. He spread his wings and launched himself into the air, easily maneuvering himself down toward the mountain’s entrance, and landed on soft feet after a short flight.

Cassian swallowed hard as he eventually made his way inside the mountain, immediately wary when the wards let him in without issue. They felt stronger since the last time he’d been here — probably Lucien’s doing — but they were certainly more than enough to keep him out if Nesta wanted.

The optimistic side of him was hoping it was because she wanted to see him. The other, more logical side was screaming that this could be a trap, that she could be luring him inside just to kill him as soon as he got close.

There was only one way to find out.

As Cassian walked through the cavernous halls of the Hewn City, he was shocked to see so many fae wandering about. Normally when he paid visits down here, everyone was already gathered in the throne room, but instead, he got a glimpse of what life looked like under Nesta’s rule. The servants he passed didn’t seem terrified to make eye contact, and he even passed a bright corridor where some youths were roughhousing playfully. He of course attracted his fair share of stares as he wandered, but no one paid him any mind beyond a few moments of initial interest.

Not until he stumbled across one of the guards that Nesta hadn’t killed in her hostile takeover, at least. “You there! Halt!”

“Yes?” Cassian asked, pausing mid-stride. He’d be more than able to overpower the young male, but he didn’t want to make Nesta hate him any more than she possibly did.

“Her Grace wishes to see you, my lord,” came the swift reply. “Come with me.”

Cassian didn’t bother questioning how he’d been found out so quickly. He just nodded and let the guard lead the way, their footsteps echoing off the smooth stone surrounding them.

They eventually reached the large stone doors Cassian knew led to the throne room. The male leading him exchanged a few quick words with the few guards standing at attention, and suddenly the massive doors were groaning open to reveal the throne room.

“The Lord Commander of Illyria,” someone announced as he walked in. The room was mostly empty, with only a few servants and guards milling around, but it didn’t make the walk to the throne feel any shorter.

Cassian’s heart was pounding so loud in his chest that he didn’t bristle at the title, far too concerned with Nesta’s reaction at seeing him again. His eyes took in all the changes she’d made to the room — most noticeably replacing Rhysand’s throne with one of her own carved with emerald-eyed snakes — before settling on Nesta herself sitting on her throne.

Cassian couldn’t breathe as he looked at her. She was so beautiful that it was difficult to stare at her for too long, like she was his own personal sun and he was blessed to orbit around her. She’d traded the crown of bones for one of glittering black spikes adorned with emeralds, nestled safely within her braided coronet. The crown perfectly matched the bodice of her dress, and she looked so stunning and powerful at the same time that Cassian had to force himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Cassian,” Nesta eventually said, tilting her head as she continued to study him. She’d put on some more weight since the last time he’d seen her, and even when she was staring at him like that, he couldn’t help but be thankful that she’d regained some of the color back in her cheeks. “Tell me. Have you come to bend the knee? Or did you want to die by my hand?”

Read Chapter Seven here!

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