#‘I will NOT accept this judgement of my princely actions’

[thatgaywizardoverthere]

Arthur keeping tabs on Merlin day 1 so they can “accidentally” run into each other at the market

[vhagarys]

forgive me

aemond x wife!reader

summary: his lady wife summons him to the throne room. the last thing he expected was you sat atop the iron throne.

warnings: as this is a fic written by yours truly, SMUT, oral, masturbation, defiling of iron throne, exhibitionism

MDNI

“well, what do we have here, hm?” aemond couldn’t believe the sight before him.

his deep green riding jacket smothered your small figure. he knew you had on only your sheer, beige night slip underneath. but no, it’s where you sat that directed his attention.

your luscious silver curls and soft features were a stark contrast to the menacing, iron chair you seated yourself.

his wife possessed a teasing nature. it’s one of the reasons he adored you. he always indulged in your jests, delighting in your efforts to provoke a laugh from him.

though, you’d certainly outdone yourself on this night.

the act of anyone besides the king sitting on the throne was highly inappropriate, borderline treasonous.

following his brothers tragic accident, aemond had accepted role as prince regent. he was quite taken with his newfound role as ruler of the realm. the power, the authority he so desperately craved was now in the palm of his hand.

though, such authority didn’t seem to extend to his lady wife.

“warming my seat for me, are you ābrazȳrys?,” (wife) he teased, a smile etched on his face as he admired you from the bottom of the steps.

“pay mind to how you address me, my lord,” your eyes filled with mischief.

you felt his eyes drink in your appearance and you briefly felt a bit sheepish under his scrutiny.

suddenly feeling too exposed, you attempted to subtely adjust his jacket to cover your legs, the action not going unnoticed by your lord husband.

“forgive me, your grace,” he played along, bowing his head as he stood at the foot of the iron throne.

you cleared your throat, determined to maintain your regal persona. “i required your presence immediately. you have committed grave offenses this evening which cannot go unpunished.”

the feeling of sitting atop the icy chair sent a chill up your spine. the heady sensation of claiming yourself on the most coveted seat in the realm clouded your mind.

i can see why he enjoys this, you mused to yourself.

“may I ask which crime I am to answer for, your holiness?” aemond cocked his head, barely containing his smirk.

his bold little wife never failed to keep him on his toes.

“you arrived quite tardy to supper. even more so, you failed to greet me with a proper kiss upon your arrival. tsk, I believe I could have your head for this my lord.”

you felt yourself become more submerged in your role, any trepidations for your actions long gone.

with a bolt of confidence, you held his gaze while you slowly uncrossed your legs, revealing your bare center to him.

his eyes darkened at the sight of you, he could practically smell your arousal from where he stood.

so this is how we’re playing tonight, aemond felt himself stiffen in his breeches as he ascended a step toward you.

you may have started this game, but you both knew he would finish it.

“i’m deeply sorry, your grace. allow me to beg forgiveness for my wrong doings. anything you require.” his mind swirled with thoughts of taking you, perching you on his lap and filling your womb with seed on the throne.

you reveled in the predatory, lustful gaze of your husband. the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms at your mercy. or so you thought.

“i suppose there is a way to repent your crimes,” you reached for the first button and began to slowly release them one by one, revealing your hardened buds poking through your slip.

you might have been worried of someone else entering, but the euphoria of witnessing the effect you had on your husband clouded your better judgement.

unfastening the remaining button, you stood gracefully and let the fabric pool at your feet.

you were no targaryen. however aemond knew the fiery blood of the dragon coursed through your veins. no other lady of the court would play this dangerous game, would speak to him with such boldness.

he craved to taste you. he craved to grab at your soft flesh and indulge in the nectar between your legs.

the coolness of the metal seeped though your thin nightgown as you reclaimed your spot on the throne. your legs spread just wide enough you knew he could see the wetness seeping from your core.

daringly, your fingers floated down to your center. you began to rub circles on your clit, your lips parted as arousal fueled your fingers to continue.

he knew what you wanted, and was more than happy to oblige.

slowly and methodically, aemond approached you. meeting his lustful gaze, you watched as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“may I, your grace?” he whispered, you could do nothing but nod as his fingers slowly ran up your exposed leg. his touch searing into your skin, you unconsciously spread your legs wider.

large hands roughly gripped the back of your knees, a low growl was all you heard before he dragged his warm, wet muscle through your dripping folds.

“gods,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt more arousal drip from your center and onto his devilish tongue.

“fuck you taste heavenly,” he drawled, suckling at your entrance, you gasped.

he set an unforgiving rhythm devouring your cunt.

lost in the throes of pleasure, your hands found purchase in his silver strands, tugging desperately whenever he applied pressure to your pearl.

if you weren’t disoriented by the assault on your cunny, you may have reddened at how quickly you could feel the coil in your belly about to snap.

“p-please my love. i’m close,” you begged, long forgetting the domineering facade you fabricated earlier.

fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg, his member hardened painfully watching your eyes fill with tears.

only sparing a moment away from your cunt, he commanded, “such a good girl for asking. go on, make a mess for me.”

with a final flick of his tongue, you cried out as you came undone. your body spasmed as the waves of your peak flowed through you.

soon, your body went limp and were close to falling back onto the swords behind you before you were scooped up by your husband.

draping his jacket over your frame, he quickly brought you to your shared chambers, making sure no eyes were present in the corridors.

lowering your body onto the bed, you were instantly met with fluffy blankets and you sighed in content.

expecting your husband to join you, you opened your eyes only to find him completely bare, looming over the bed. seeing him in all of his glory always seemed to stir something within you.

“i hope I am forgiven for my misdeeds from earlier?” you nodded.

he grinned and looked down to trace the patterns on the bed sheet, “do you think we are through, little wife? you didn’t think I would punish you for that little stunt you pulled?”

he grabbed your ankle and swiftly dragged you to the foot of the bed.

stunned by his sudden roughness, words escaped you as he grasped you by the chin and whispered “va ry izula, sir.”

(on all fours,now)

another mind dump of aemond, surprise surprise ;)

- alice

[nalyra-dreaming]

i dont know if this is already asked, if so just ignore the ask! I love both Lestats from show and books. But I feel they have quite different personalities. Many times it feels like a very different character. Maybe its just me? I know in the books there is a big shift between the first book and the rest in that regard, but I think show Lestat doesnt match IWTV book nor the rest in terms of his personality.

I know a big part of it its because S01 and S02 is a distorted tale. And real Lestat will be different S03 forward. Thats not my concern. The question is, do you think Lestat personality will match book Lestat from now on? Will he feel like its the same impulsive funny naive child-like full of love brat prince ? Or are they creating another version of Lestat that is different from the books and also different from S01 and S02? ( In the sense, the POV will change sure, but it still not /quite/ like the books? )

I think Sam will make very sure we will get the ... let's say "correct" Lestat as soon as we get the real Lestat.

Remember, at SDCC 2024 he said that we had NOT seen the real Lestat yet.

But... nonny, forgive me, but Lestat isn't "funny naive child-like full of love" throughout the chronicles??

He battles severe depression and body dysmorphia, fights for his agency, often, reframes the abuse he experiences as love. He tries to convince himself he's evil because his existence just does not make sense, the guilt is eating him alive, he hides his pain behind a deliberately superficial behavior pattern at times. He is impulsive, yes, but naive? Hardly. He loves, deeply, defiantly, but he has PTSD from his turning up to the last books. Throughout the chronicles he fights what happened to him, namely that he was

"Chosen for his looks, raped into darkness, abandoned right after, forever and desperately trying to get past that superficial and harrowing judgement."

I'm putting this into quotation marks, because I said this before, 1,5 years ago. He was chosen for his looks, and the event he himself calls the "cosmic error".

I don't know which books you've read, or which circles of mutuals you are in.

I know the fandom likes to joke about how dumb Lestat acts at times, or his (supposed) illiteracy... As someone who was kept from knowledge myself and had to fight to get to it I find that hardly funny, especially since Lestat is actually highly clever and reads a lot, and can also speak a lot of languages. Oh, and of course he is the author of most of the VC 💀 And I don't find his wildly flailing depression-fueled actions dumb either.

But I guess that is a matter of taste and interpretation.

(I'm not saying that you think that, I'm just saying I do not.)

Lestat is a brat (at times, and I mean, that title was given by Marius, right), and he is capricious, and full of love, yes. He is also full of pain, and guilt, and battling it constantly. And hiding it constantly, too.

That is why I keep saying that I am thankful for Anne for writing those last three books.

Because at the end, in Blood Communion - they (not only Lestat) do find some peace and acceptance. And themselves.

As for the show, as said at the start - I trust Sam to deliver Lestat, even more than I trust Rolin etc to write him. See the monologue in episode 6, for example, where he made sure of it being clear he was forced. Etc.

He will give us "Lestat".

I'm not sure it will be the one you will be expecting?^^

But that will remain to be seen/shown.

[readychilledwine]

do you ever feel awkward writing for Eris? I saw your poll about doing an SJM bad guys week, so I'm guessing not.

Warning - This is going to become SJM critical. Please know I am not anti any of these characters. I am, however, critical of SJM as a long-time fantasy reader.

You answered your own question in your ask there, friend.

I do not have issues writing for Eris. The main issue the fandom has with him is the situation with Mor, and here's my stance on that:

We have an issue with the timeline around this incident, so I will make my judgement call when SJM does her eventual retcon and fixes it.

We know Eris is younger than Mor and Rhys, who are around the same age. Mor was sold to Autumn as Eris's bride at the tender age of 17. When Helion is giving us his gorgeous monolog talking about his love for Momma Autumn, we find out that she and Beron were married young and had barely been married for two decades around the start of the first war. Meaning Eris was around 19 at the time.

This passage from Rhys is a little hazy and unclear, but from how I and several other people took it, he was around 28 at the start of that war, meaning Mor was also around 27 to 28. That makes Mor at least 8 to 9 years older than Eris. Meaning, he potentially was a LITERAL child when he and Mor were engaged. He would have been around the age of 7 to 9 and already had the mindset to fear Beron.

This where I am going to look SJM critical. She is great at a few things, creating plotholes by retconing, and fucking up timelines due to her retconing.

Let's say she retcons to correct that issue. We still know Eris is younger than Mor by a year or two. So, let's say he was 15 to 16. At 15 to 16 years old, I want you to think about what you would have done in this situation:

You are a young prince or princess. Your father is a known abuser and racist. You all have just found out your betrothed has sullied themselves with a person your father considers below all of you, and you know it was done to get out of a marriage she did not want to be in. You and your men find her on the border of your father's court, beaten and with a nail in her womb. Here are your options:

1. You take her back to your father, the known racist and abuser. Thus making her, in reality, his problem. You have witnessed how your father likes to handle his problems. You also know he's angry and embarrassed this female made the choice to sleep with a lesser born bastard Illyrian over marry his high fae princeling.

2. You cannot risk touching her, so leave her somewhere her friends can find her without risking her or them having to enter Autumn. This will allow her to go home, where she is safe, and heal.

In both scenarios, Eris could not win. He either took Mor to his father and risked her death and was blamed for that, or he left her knowing her friends were more than likely coming and be blamed for that as well. He was now the villain in Mor's story regardless of what actions he took, and he was that villain as a teen. A literal child. As a child he picked to allow Morrigan life. To allow her to live without being trapped the way he and his mother are.

Eris, in theory, made a selfless choice. He made the choice to damn himself and his reputation for the sake of Mor and as he says, it cost him..

As for me being willing to write other SJM bad guys-

It is perfectly normal and acceptable in every other fandom to be attracted to the bad guys and to write dark fanfiction about them. You see it all time in Tolkien, Harry Potter, and (grossly since they are all children) it has resurged in the Percy Jackson fandom. Please have several seats and let me, and the several other people who are excited for it, enjoy my little story about Pollux, my reader, and his heavy cock that sways to and fro.

It's also, as someone pumping out the amount of content I am right now, really nice to get to write a dark fic with a villain here and there for a change of pace, so thank you to everyone who is supportive and open to me doing that.

[bookstoreaders]

*Spoilers for both of these books*

I had found out about CS Pacat while searching for art work inspiration for my own story and that's how I found the Captive Prince Series and then I saw Dark Rise in books a million and I was instantly caught by the cover. I love any story with darker morally complex (not gray: I could and will make a post on that) characters.

I put off reading it for while because I'm very much a mood reader and this past week I decided you know what let's dive in.

So I'm going to go through each character and what I think of them because I am 100% a character reader. This will be for both books Dark Rise and Dark Heir (also please note i did audio book so I may spell things wrong)

Let's start with our main boy:

Will:

I find Will so interesting and complex. It's hard to tell if what he is doing is because he truly doesn't want to be like Sacien or if this is all apart of Sacien's "will". I find it very interesting that Will's name is well, Will. At the same time it's seems to me that Will is trying so hard to NOT be who he was in his past life. At the end of Dark Heir when he gets outed and he thinks James is the one person who actually accepts him and finds out he has the collar on (I have thoughts on that but I will get to theories later on) it's devastating. I think for both Will and James they want to not be judged for the choices their past selves made.

On that note James:

James is probably my favorite character.

He is snarky and smart and brave and everyone treats him terribly except for Will. He is either treated like a wh***, a weapon (though Will is guilty of this), or a traitor. He's something to be owned, to be possessed. He is paying for the actions of a past he can't even remember (until the very end) when the collar was put back on him i was so upset, but knew it wouldn't work the way St. Claire wanted.

Violet:

I liked Violet more in book one. Im.curious about her inpending "fight" with Tom and if and when that will go down. I was hoping she would be the one to stick behind Will and not judge him. (Though i feel she's going to be the first to go back, if Will really is trying to be "good")

Cyprian:

Cyp Cyp... I really didn't like him.at first. But.now I do. However, I find him complex as well. I love his dedication to his believes and his loyalty and obvious love for Violet. I hate his judgement of James, that he blames him for Marcus and the other Stewart's and doesn't think about why James might have left. (Their father tried to kill him when they found out he was a reborn) ... on a different note him drinking from the cup, wrestling the shadow, jumping down that whole and breaking the "staff" and dragging Will back up like he was a sack was pretty bad ass.

Katherine/Visander

Let's start with Katherine: I wish we'd had more time with her. I didn't feel very connected to her so when she died i wasnt that upset. Visander seems so one sided in his goals and thoughts. It's like has blinders on. He doesn't think that maybe Devon has changed in 1000+ years or that things might have changed. He is stuck in the past. His relationship with Philip is interesting especially with him being in Katherine's body (which is very weird and im not sure how I feel about it)

Elizabeth: she can be annoying but she is.also 10 years old. For her age she is a very smart and brave young lady and im excited to see where her story goes.

Tom:

I feel like I am grappling at straws for more information on Tom. I want more. How much does he truely know? Is he niave? What does being a "lion" mean. He clearly loves Violet

Devon: he interests me more than anyone. His story is tragic and sad. Hunted and having his horn cut off... they say it was by humans but I have thoughts (theories later) and then living through all those years alone. It's pretty tragic. He seems to have a very loving and trusting relationship with Tom from what I can tell (I do hope I'm reading that correctly)

So thoughts and theories and all that and there's no Rhyme or Reason to any of this:

I am starting to wonder who the real bad guys are: I don't think it was really Sacien. I wonder if it might actually be the Sun King or whatever he's called. I wonder in book 3 of with James remembering the past if we won't learn the truth. Because something is up.

I despise Will's mother. She raises this child, ties him to beds, tries to kill him. All for the supposed mistakes of a past life he can't recall... yeah f**ck her.

I think the Stewart's are sus. Did they hunt down Devon and saw off his horn? If not how did they end up it?

What exactly is the white death and if it's evil how did Visander come back if he is good?

What's up with Grace?

I'm firmly convinced that Sacien/Anharian Will/James is like a "You have to have shadows with light" James is the Light and Will is the Shadow they are supposed to compliment each other. I think someone fucked with history but we will see.

Basically, I really enjoyed these two books, and I am desperate for any news on book 3

[httpsoftbunni]

Comprehensive and In-Depth Lecture on Metatron and Metatron's Cube

Hello all, and welcome to my specially crafted deep dive into Metatron, a key figure in Jewish mysticism, Kabbalistic tradition, and sacred geometry, as well as the symbolism of Metatron's Cube. In this lecture, I will discuss Metatron's origins, his transformation, his roles as described in the ancient and mystical texts, and how the Cube ties into the understanding of creation and divine order.

[Please note, the information given here does not reflect my personal ideas or beliefs in any way, shape, or form. I simply enjoy studying different topics from different angles. I will be doing a counter post for this, explaining how Metatron can be a deceptive figure and lure for forbidden knowledge. Please keep this in mind as we progress with these studies.]

Post 1 - Who Is Metatron?

Metatron is an angel of the highest rank in Jewish mystical traditions, though he is not explicitly named in the canonical Bible. His character emerges through the Talmud, Sefer HaHechalot, and Kabbalistic writings, where he is instilled with profound significance as an intermediary between humanity and the divine. Let's take a closer look at his origins, role, and the meaning behind his name and other symbolism.

Enoch's Transformation into Metatron:

Enoch, a figure mentioned in Genesis 5:24, is described as having "walked with God" and was then taken by God. The Bible does not elaborate on what happened next, but Jewish mystical writings, particularly the Book of Enoch, elaborate that Enoch was transformed into the archangel Metatron after being taken up to heaven.

The Book of Enoch, one of the key apocryphal texts, is central to understanding Metatron's identity This text describes Enoch's ascension as a direct transformation: he is granted eternal life and changed into a being of light, wisdom, and divine knowledge. He is granted immense power and an exalted role in heaven as Metatron, the Heavenly Scribe.

Enoch's transformation represents more than just spiritual ascension; it embodies the possibility for human beings to transcend earthly limitations and approach the divine realm. The transformation from Enoch to Metatron symbolises spiritual purification, the cultivation of divine wisdom, and the ultimate union with God.

The Meaning of the Name Metatron:

The name Metatron itself has sparked various interpretations and theories. One of the most widely accepted explanations comes from the Greek meta-thronos, which means "beyond the throne" or "serving at the throne of God." This is a fitting description given Metatron's role as one of the highest angels, constantly in the presence of God and serving as a bridge between the divine and earthly realms.

Another possible origin for the name comes from the Hebrew root "matara", which means "measure," signifying Metatron's role in measuring the actions and events of the world as the recorder of divine deeds.It's also been suggested that Metatron's name could derive from "matar", meaning "guide" or "instructor", highlighting his role as a spiritual guide for those who seek divine knowledge.

Metatron's association with the Throne of God also highlights his unique role within the angelic hierarchy. In Jewish mysticism, he is sometimes referred to as the "Prince of the Countenance", which emphasise his closeness to God, as he is said to stand directly before the divine countenance, radiating God's light and wisdom.

Metatron's Role and Titles:

One of Metatron's most important roles is as the divine scribe who records everything in the Book of Life. This book is said to contain the deeds of all human beings, and Metatron meticulously records every action, ensuring that all divine justice is meted out according to the law. This aligns with ideas in the Bible where God's judgement is recorded, such as Exodus 32:32-33: "But now, please forgive their sin–but if not now, then blot me out of the book you have written."

In some traditions, Metatron is referred to as the Voice of God or the Lesser YHVH. This is because he is often depicted as the one who conveys God's will to humanity. His role as intermediary mirrors the roles of other biblical figures such as Moses, who communicated directly with God, or the prophets who received and delivered God's messages. However, Metatron's role is unique because of his direct proximity to God's throne.

Metatron is also seen as a spiritual guide, as mentioned above. He is entrusted with the knowledge of all things in the cosmos and serves to teach and instruct humanity on how to align with divine wisdom. His wisdom is said to encompass al secrets of creation, time, and the universe, making him a master of cosmic order and harmony.

The ascension of Enoch into Metatron also represents the potential for mortal spiritual transformation. Just as Enoch was taken into heaven and transformed into an angel, humans, through spiritual growth, can also transcend their earthly limitations and reach a higher state of being, closer to the divine. This theme is reflected in the concept of spiritual ascent, which appears across many mystical and religious traditions.

[snilys]

I think it’s fair game to criticise Lily’s moral inconsistencies, and I don’t think it’s quite right to be labelling people who do as ‘misogynists’ so long as they’re not blaming the character for Severus going down the dark path.

Of course everyone should remember to contextualise her reactions in light of the political circumstances and cut her some slack, because her stance is perfectly understandable for a marginalised teenager. But ‘violence is fine if it’s directed at bad people’ is a principle I vehemently disagree with, and the Harry Potter books are particularly terrible for this (Harry casting a torture spell is lionised as gallant! James commits sexual assault, never apologises, is treated by the narrative as a hero!) so Lily’s position rankles far more for me personally than it might have done otherwise because it’s a position the book actually endorses. I also think part of it is the reaction to the tendency - again perpetuating from the books! - to make Lily a flawless beacon of light. Every questionable action she takes is in fact justified, every moral judgement she casts on another character correct. I just don’t think this is very interesting. I think it’s more misogynistic to let her be flattened to the arbiter of two boys’ moral worth than exploring her own self with corresponding mistakes and misjudgements. What is there to even discuss about her if we don’t dig into those? James is thoroughly defined by his friends. JKR only gave Lily one, who idealises her through guilt.

I don’t think it’s misogynistic to query whether she loved Severus either. JKR says yes, so as long as we all accept that was the author’s intent, but there’s room for reasonable debate there. Which is again JKR’s doing, because there isn’t a single scene included in The Prince’s Tale where Lily enjoys Severus’ company without getting mad at him. JKR never shows *why* Lily considers them best friends when she assumes the worst of him even when they’re kids and then has evidence when they get to school that he harbours beliefs that are dangerous to her, and JKR failing to show this leaves room for speculation. Sorry for the very long anon. There just hasn’t been much room for the interpretation that ‘Lily was not a good friend - this doesn’t mean she wasn’t a good person’ around here recently, without accusations of being a pick me girl or having internalised misogyny being thrown around

if this is about that post going around that makes light of lily's comment about dark magic, i never said anything about internalized misogyny or pick me behavior, so this feels like it's a subject that has been bothering you and you projected it on my comment, in which i was just pointing out most avid severus fans struggle with putting themselves in lily's shoes about her situation, not severus'.

now, you don't know me, and my comment did not cover up my entire viewpoint of characters like james or situations where violence was discussed or employed with "bad people", but rowling has stated - regarding precisely the torturing spell - that she never intended for harry to be perfect or an example of goodness, and i don't really like james, but i disagree with this idea that rowling was solely intending for james to be seen in a positive light. he was meant to be seen as layered the moment harry realized he was an imbecile as a teenager, and it briefly tarnished the image he had of him, so if you believe she was endorsing this sort of behavior, that has more to do with your own perspective of the books.

and i don't believe lily was meant to be seen as "perfect" either, very much just like a teenage girl. and again, you don't really know how i view her aside from my defense of her choices, but it's also abundantly clear in the narrative of the prince's tale who was going to be inevitably wrong in the end. if voldemort did not exist in this story, if this was a case of lily dating her best friend's bully "just because", i would perhaps feel inclined to impart judgement about her actions, but voldemort existed, and many people claim there was no indication she was trying hard enough for him or showing any sort of care, and to me that's just not reading into the subtext of the narrative.

it's literally stated she was being questioned about her friendship with snape, and she kept defending him of her friends AND in front of james, and severus made her every attempt difficult by still engaging with people that hated her kind and found her inferior. the death eaters were already committing crimes by that time, regulus kept record of said documented crimes on a collage, so lily was fully, completely aware of WHO severus was going to become if he kept hanging around blood supremacists. and he proved her right in the end, her concerns were not unfounded.

"Lily was not a good friend - this doesn’t mean she wasn’t a good person"

and i disagree. i don't believe she was a bad friend either, because then again, by reading into the subtext of the situation, she was trying for severus, and stuck around until his beliefs turned on her, and even if she wasn't "graceful" in the way she lashed out in response, she was entitled to do so. she said herself severus was starting to treat everyone of her similar upbringing as "mudbloods", but she stuck around either way, TRIED to keep their friendship either way, until she couldn't, and that's fine.

now the relationship with james is an entirely different topic, as i said in those comments, i do not believe lily was justifying james and his little friends' idiotic ways by saying that at least they not using dark magic, she called him a toerag in the same scene, so she was definitely bothered by the violence and the bullying, but given the context and the raising power of voldemort, dark magic, specially dark magic that came from death eaters on the making, was worse (and once again, a right assumption in the end about the people surrounding severus).

i think, if you're keen enough, the narrative is aimed to make the reader feel empathy towards severus during swm and the prince's tale. rowling stated herself in the very chapter that he ended up blurting mudblood out of "anger and humiliation", so you can tell even SHE empathized with severus, i know i do, but nothing will ever make me believe a girl with the concerns lily held had to do "more" for severus or be read as more "coddling" towards him in those memories. with the subtext and with what's said by rowling one is supposed to work out what was left unsaid. you can read between lines how severus' friendship with these prejudiced boys hurt her, that she didn't feel her welfare prioritized by his own friend, therefore her "you chose your path" comment.

lastly, i personally don't think rowling failed to convey the idea that severus had someone valuable and his own choices drove her away. it wasn't read as perfect because lily had her own conflicts in her life at first that made it difficult for her to feel fully comfortable with her identity as a witch (her entire relationship with her sister) and then the person who introduced her to magic also started straying from her, i think that needing more explicit details on a friendship that makes severus' entire life is like wanting to be spoonfed and remain unwilling to understand a reality that wasn't severus', but lily's. if there's anything you wish to discuss further about it, write me off anon.

[verseandrhyme]

It did not elicit three strikes, it necessitated them. Because Ferdinand was so out, he was off the mountain on which the monastery was built entirely.

The glare with which she had fixed him with morphs into something far more flat and unimpressed as he fumbles his way through an attempted apology. She is so used to the princes of Hoshido, both down to earth and boyish and charming. This pathetic attempt at mimicking that which comes naturally to others is all the more pathetic to watch in comparison.

"If there is no need for me to accept any apology of yours, I do wish you would have spared us both the trouble by keeping your words to yourself and allowing this to end with our mutual embarrassment."

Instead, the tongue ran freely, and so called into question the matter of intention vs. impact. Perhaps she would have given him a more lenient judgement if the impacts were not still ongoing.

"Do the actions of its star pupils not reflect the character of the house? Are you, a noble of Fodlan, not meant to be a shining example of the expectations of what a student of the Eagles can be?" Mitama scoffs. "How fortunate for you that these standards stop the moment you fumble. Should I dismiss every misstep, simply because it exists? Does the next blunder you make not count, simply because you did not mean it?"

Would she have preferred a kiss? Not necessarily. But she would have liked to be asked! Was it not a practice of nobles, constantly grabbing at hands and kissing them? Surely that would have sufficed?

"Oh, so you know my name! What a tragedy for such preparation to have lead to such a disappointing first encounter." She remembers his name starts with an F. She is not about to embarrass herself by misnaming him now.

Especially not as her cheeks go red again. She recoils. "Kindly keep your tongue where it belongs, thank you. Better yet, still it and spare us all from further oversteps."

hold on!? and in what world would that elicit THREE strikes, dear narrator!?

he imagined a different reaction! had he been wrong? are fair maidens not intent on reserving their lips to people they love? okay. no, he was aware that some would approach this more liberally, but— he was shoved quite harshly off of her, hands immediately shooting up like the knights of Seiros had caught him midway through some heinous crime.

but he wasn't naughty, he swore on it!

would she have preferred something else? would she have preferred a kiss? but— (did she even know his name!?) it mattered not what he could have done, because he had slighted her by way of omission. "I'm sorry, no truly I am." he was. which was the worst part of this affair. "please, you are in no need to accept my apology, but know that I simply had no intention to wrong yo—"

he was left aghast, as she dragged the Black Eagles into the mud. oh Edelgard would have his head on a pike.

"hold on!? are we talking about the same house? please, i beg you spare my house your blanket opinions and simply lay judgement upon me." pleading, he folded his hands together as if to pray.

"should I assume that you would have preferred a kiss?" BZZZT. "would that have been less humiliating?" BZZZT. BZZZZT. "Mitama, please…"

presumptuous!

it was the first time he used her name, given that he had yet to formally introduce himself. wonderful. splendid. the holidays were not supposed to be some sordid affair, but he had walked into a scene with his gloves painted red.

"i assure you, if i overstepped your boundaries, i'd also have to offer up my tongue!"

[yandere--stuck]

(This is the anon about ur zagreus fic! sorry for sending this as an ask, your submission box is closed as far as i can tell,, either way, enjoy <3)

You’d seen the Prince of the Underworld, for the first time, on the day you set foot here.

Dying was a lot to take in, to no one’s surprise. One moment you were merely falling asleep, the next you were clawing your way to the surface of a crimson river. You were sore all over, legs trembling as you walked. (No, gods, did you even really have legs anymore? Were you walking or floating?) It all went by in a haze. The person (shade, man, god?) listing your cause of death after startling awake, and having you take your place in the line.

Your mind drifting to better times became much more difficult when you’re faced with the near obliterating gaze of Lord Hades, looking straight through you for his judgement. Maybe you wouldn’t be as eager to sink through the floor if he hadn’t shown his displeasure with the person in front of you for an ‘ignorant request’. Was it possible for shades to cry? You supposed you were about to find out.

Then, a flash of red made you jump, cutting in front of you as you were about to take another step forward. You blinked, and there was now a man. His skin gray and hair dark, he had a striking resemblance to Hades on his throne. Even the wreath matched. But his actions couldn’t be more of a stark opposite with the stern god in front of you. He cooed at the dog, the exact words he was saying lost on you, and it leaned toward him. It was such a ridiculous sight, the gigantic Cerberus sticking its tongue out and wagging his tail, craning its head for more scratches underneath its chin, that it broke you from your panic and made you muffle a laugh.

Not even Lord Hades snapping at, what you assume to be, his son to cease bothering the dog, got you nearly as scared again. You never got the chance to, in one way or another, thank him. Despite being dead, you were certain you would’ve never lived it down if you burst into tears at the moment of your judgement. Your sentence was given, and received.

Elysium is beautiful.

It’s a privilege to be here, of course you’re aware. To share these hallowed grounds with the greatest heroes of history, ones you’d only heard wild tales about, and to roam these fields of endless green is a wish for many. The reward you received for a lifetime of servitude as one of Artemis’ hunting attendants, and never falling out of your goddesses' grace while doing so. But, even in a gorgeous place such as this one, there are still things left to mull over. Besides regrets made during your life, you sometimes think back to your first day here, and to the prince that saved you from humiliation, without being aware. You had made your mind up to, if you ever encountered a second time, to pay your dues.

There are few things for the dead to indulge in. Rumours are one of them, especially ones as grand as the supposed escape attempt of the prince, Zagreus. The whispers among the shades spoke of an upcoming battle between him, Theseus and Asterius. You’re sure everyone is welcome to watch as Theseus enjoys fighting in front of as large of an audience as possible. The thought makes you giddy, too. Not only do you get to see the prince again, you can show him your appreciation in such a direct way, too. You’d used flowers for the red of your banner, at first. It took ages and wasn’t bright enough for your liking. With enough travelling through the fields however, you came across more and more puddles of dried blood. Whose it used to be, you don’t know, but you used some. They wouldn’t be needing it anymore, would they? Your clothes were still dyed with flowers, though.

When the rumours turn out true, you’re one of the first in the line. You’d expected most of the visitors to be in support of the minotaur or his friend, but you weren’t anticipating being the sole person cheering for Zagreus. There’s no time to care for it. Your shame died along with you. Either way, you’re much more enthralled by the scene unfolding in front of you. The movements are so quick they’re hard to keep track of, a flurry of attempted hits, the prince dashing around as he shoots a flurry of arrows. (You swear he catches your eyes one, and as selfish as the thought is, you think you made him smile.) A spear pierces his chest, and his body falls to the ground.

He returns, dies, returns, returns and dies. You are there for every battle. At one point, you pick up the habit of waving at him as soon as he enters the battlefield, and he returns the gesture. During the fight, you call out his name, your voice lost in the ocean of cheers. (Once again, it’s a self indulgent thought, but Zagreus always moves towards the part of the arena opposite of you, glancing in what you think might be your general direction.) To soften the ache in your heart every time he is forced to sink to his knees, you observe. He lasts longer every time, gets better at dodging, manages to hit more, and then- No longer is he the one forced to accept his losses. Just like during his fights, it’s impossible to tear your eyes away from him.

“I dedicate this victory to you, my Good Shade!” And yet, it still comes as a surprise. To have him staring up at you, smiling widely, as if you aren’t merely one dead among many, on an entirely different, lower level than his. In your journey to show your appreciation for him, you’ve only gained his in return. (Though you’re certain that this is the most personal interaction you’ll have with him; two very separate existences, only interacting for a moment.) You lean over the railing of the arena, and give a smile of your own.

~~~

some noootes…! like i said this was inspired by your yandere!zagreus post,, i wanted to write a little something from reader’s perspective <3!! i added the attendant of artemis detail out of self indulgence,,, they wouldve been sworn to have no relationships during their life so they might not immediately realise how out of the ordinary zagreus is acting later on :P and them using zagreus’ blood for their banner for him was just ironic to me lmao,, hope u enjoyed it <33!!! thanks for ur writing <3

OH MY GOD ANON THIS SO AMAZING!!!!!!!! YOU'RE SUCH A TALENTED WRITER OMG!!!!! I love your prose and the way you write out actions! This is so creative and, using Zag's own blood for the banner?? UGH. I can't get over it. This drabble my beloved.....

I love this sm and I can't thank you enough for submitting this, this is just. Incredible!!!!! :DDDD

[northernmariette]

Marshal Ney’s trial: Superstar attorneys, reluctant judges (Part 1)

This section is a bit long, so I’m posting it in two parts. The original French text can be found here:

https://www.senat.fr/evenement/archives/D26/le_proces/lincompetence_du_conseil_de_guerre.html

In my previous post translating the Senat’s file about Marshal Ney (Marshal Ney’s Trial: “It will hurt us more than his treason in March”), authorities were not sure which instance ought to be assigned the responsibility of the prosecuting him. 

On August 14, 1815, the matter was settled. Marshal Gouvion-Saint-Cyr, Minister of War, decided to bring Marshal Ney before a court-martial, which he considered less unfavourable to Ney than the Royalist majority in the Chamber of Peers. 

The composition of the tribunal was difficult. Marshal Moncey refused to preside over it, which earned him three months in prison. In a letter addressed to the King, he wrote: "Placed in the cruel alternative of disobeying Your Majesty or of failing my conscience, I must explain myself. [...] Was it the Allies who demanded that France sacrifice its most illustrious citizens? [...] Who am I to judge the fate of Marshal Ney? Sire, allow me to ask Your Majesty where the accusers were while Ney was marching through the battlefields? Oh, while Russia and the Allies may not be able to forgive the Prince of Moskowa, can France forget the hero of the Beresina? [...] "

The court-martial was ultimately presided over by Marshal Jourdan, and composed of three other Marshals (Masséna, Augereau and Mortier) who had served the Emperor on his return from Elba, and three generals rather favorable to the Empire (Claparède, Villate and Gazan). A commissioner of the executive power was also present, including during the deliberations.

With regard to the selection of the attorneys, Ney's brother-in-law, Monsieur Gamot, asked Nicolas-François Bellart, then a lawyer, to defend Ney, which was refused indignantly because of Ney's defection. [...] However, he did counsel Ney to accept being brought before the court-martial, since it was made up of military personnel who would have been better able to understand his actions and their context, and the genuine difficulties he had faced in the fulfilment of his mission.

Finally, the attorneys selected were Pierre-Nicolas Berryer, 

(known as Berryer père), assisted by his son Pierre-Antoine, and André-Jean-Jacques Dupin (known as Dupin aîné). 

Berryer, chosen because his reputation and his Monarchist opinions were expected to please King Louis XVIII, was in charge of the pleading, while Dupin did the research and writing. They decided to accept Marshal Ney's decision to decline the jurisdiction of the court-martial, perhaps because they lacked the necessary objectivity and perseverance in light of the Marshal's personality.

Considering how things went for Ney in the Chamber of Peers, it seems that his counsel was perhaps naive, yes. Even the attorney who indignantly refused to represent Ney advised him to stick with the court-martial; but if Ney had planned to paint a bull’s eye on his chest, he could not have done better than to reject judgement in front of his fellow Marshals, as we shall see. But all six Marshals mentioned here had served in Spain, and Massena had actually dismissed Ney because of his insubordination; did this play a part in Ney’s decision? On the other hand, he had to be aware of Moncey’s stance.

I intend to post something about Moncey’s refusal to judge Ney in the future. Definitely gutsy. 

Ney’s attorneys were legal stars of their time. The Senat file provides short biographies of them, which I haven’t translated, to be found here 

https://www.senat.fr/fileadmin/Fichiers/Images/archives/D26/Le_proces/Acteur_Le_procureur_general_Bellart.pdf

https://www.senat.fr/fileadmin/Fichiers/Images/archives/D26/Le_proces/Acteur_L_avocat_Berryer.pdf

https://www.senat.fr/fileadmin/Fichiers/Images/archives/D26/Le_proces/Acteur_L_avocat_Dupin.pdf

Dupin was only 32 when he defended Ney. He went on to represent the Ney family for decades in its efforts to rehabilitate the Marshal. According to the Senat file, he and Berryer’s son (also part of the defense team) went on to become two of the pre-eminent lawyers of the nineteenth century.

[mabeysomeclasspecting]

[💡✒] Hello, if you are still accepting classpecting requests, I would appreciate your insight.

1. What are your interests/hobbies?

I tend towards more introverted hobbies like reading and writing, which I leads me down many rabbit holes while researching. I suppose that I collect data as a hobby as well.

2. How do you see yourself?

Average? Perhaps too much of a general question for me without being able to be objective in answering. It's possible I hold too much bias.

Relatively intelligent, I like to think I have enough common sense opposite many I've been around. Utilitarian. Creative.

Although, I will also admit I do not necessary see myself in the best ways.

3. How do you think others see you?

I've been called analytical, intelligent, supportive, kind. I've also been called ruthless and judgemental, prideful and stubborn. Utilitarian. Hermit.

4. How do you interact with your friends?

I've few friends to care for. I believe one must be careful even with those close to you. I am perhaps wary of everyone. I prefer not having social interactions.

5. What's important to you?

It depends on the definition of importance.

I don't find myself important, I have a role that can be replaced, but my actions are what makes the role and those are important.

Basic needs are important, video games and other entertainment medias are not. Health is important, but overtly worrying about others and their perceptions of an individual are not.

Friends can be important, but in-group drama is not.

Knowing and being in control of a situation is important to me.

6. Describe the ideal you, what kind of person do you strive to be?

There is no ideal; however, I suppose I can say that my ideal is only the best. The best one could ever be, peak physical health, a high constitution and incredible will power, adaptable, capable of surviving anything. Only the best.

Hi!

I'd say you're p solidly a Mage of Light! But if that doesn't feel right, maybe consider Prince of Heart

Hope that helps :)

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh wow WOW cuties LOL i was not expecting this fic idea to keep me up in my sleep and occupy all my waking thoughts BUT thank you so so  much for you words of support!! hehe well....here we goooo i hope that ya’ll are ready teehee--also tags will be added as they come! You can read part one here

Two 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, jeongin in this fic is my bb and i will protect him, sexy and smart jeongin tho still hehe 

CWs: mentions of death, people dying/killing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of getting drunk, hungover, and vomiting, a bombing. 

Word count: 5.2k 

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE

The road was long and winding, pitch black, desolate, quiet and foreign. In the backseat of the car, Chan had slumped his head over on Jeongin’s shoulder and bobbed with the motions of the road. His nose would twitch in his sleep, and he would make little grunts of nonsense words. He had worked himself up after the banquet, and actually hadn’t stopped his “love confessions” until you told him to shut up or you would shut him up. 

Your partner’s glasses were illuminated from the screen of his laptop which he tapped quietly away at. You too felt drowsy, but sleep would be for later once you had properly arrived at the safe house, or safe hotel, or safe hole in the ground...whatever it was. 

“You hear anything from Carroll?” You slung your arm over the seat and lowered your voice. 

“Nothing yet.” His eyes flicked around the screen. “It’s almost like it’s too quiet. I’ve already told her that we have the prince and that he’s safe, but..nothing.” 

“You don’t think...they got targeted too?” 

Chan snored lightly on his bodyguard’s shoulder, and he didn’t dare to move an inch. 

“I sure as hell hope not. But...that would explain why things have been so quiet. If this was a larger scale attack...I don’t know what this could mean then.” 

From the darkness of the outside world in the car windows, you passed a forest of pines and oher types of stoic trees making up the mountainside. 

“Well, I think that we should be optimistic for the time being.” 

Jeongin nodded. He looked to be a mess: blood had splattered at his white shirt collar and in specks on his neck. His cracked lenses however, didn’t keep him from his work. He had pulled his tie loosely around his neck, and had also provided his jacket as a pseudo-blanket of sorts for the prince. The prince, had offered his own jacket to you seeing as you only had your dress, but you had been managing just fine. You accepted it, but only because it could soothe his chivalrous ego. He had a hard night already, so you saw it best. 

“Two, where are you taking us?” You called to the mysterious driver. 

Ever since meeting him at the hotel, he had been nearly silent the whole ride. 

The man cleared his throat, “As far away from here as I can. I don’t know of any safe houses so...I’m just trying to remove us.” 

“I can find one for us if Carroll doesn’t get back to me....which she should...” 

Jeongin was not one for speaking of his mother as anything other than his boss. Since he had been assigned to be your partner a few months ago, he had never referred to her as his mother, nor did he ever seem to harbor any emotion for the stern woman. Both of them had been a bit allusive to you, but that was simply how it was in this line of work. You didn’t know things about the people around you, and you didn’t need to ask. You had wondered if he had worried about her, or thought about her when you were on missions. The young man had trained rigorously, and had passed each exam from the academy with flying colors. After considering it for a while, you figured what immense pressure he must've been under: son of the woman in charge, a master at infiltration, espionage, manipulation, cybersecurity, and a million more things; he had to prove himself and more. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but you almost did wish that you had known more. 

Two fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that played some kind of country-western type music. 

“What’s your specialty Two? How’d you end up a part of this shitshow?” 

The driver laughed, then hummed along with the music for a moment. “This has been my gig for few years, but I’ve never been a part of this unit before. Carroll always saw it best for my services to be used in other places.” 

“You have a specialty?” Jeongin asked while still typing furiously. 

Two scratched the back of his head. “I do a little bit of everything. But...let’s just say that I’m good at making friends. That’s why Carroll likes me.” 

“--You know her personally?” Your partner quipped, but the edge to his voice didn’t sound like judgement, but rather caution. 

“We’ve had a few meetings.” 

“Hm.” 

You kicked off your heals to massage your aching toes. If only they had attacked at a time when you had the proper footwear. 

“You said we could also call you J?” You sprawled over the back seat in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. Still, the plastic seatbelt buckles poked into your back. 

“Yes. You can call me J.” 

And that was that. No “What’s J stand for”, or “where are you from”, “where’s your home base,” “how did you rank at the academy?” You added questions to the list of things that weren’t allowed as well. 

Jeongin tore off his glasses with an exasperated sigh to rub at his tired eyes. Chan made a happy little noise, presumably because he had found a cozier spot on Jeongin’s shoulder. He had now gotten the chance to sleep off his drunken stupor that may or may not had contributed to his sudden confession, and the reason behind the two pitstops you had taken for him to retch on the side of the road. 

If he was a prince, he might’ve also been one mess of a prince. In all of his grace and confidence, the pleasures that he partook in would often get the best of him at times too. 

You gave up on trying to get some sleep, but rather sat up to watch that paradoxically handsome and misshapen prince. Just like this: sleeping, vulnerable, with some kind of lopsided smirk on his face, he was much less than the regal figure that you had painted him to be in your mind. For maintaining appearances the whole day long, you hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him like this before. His façade faded, and you surmised that maybe he really was different from the way that he let on. 

“I’m so fucking tired.” Jeongin yawned. 

“Get some sleep then. I’ll stay up to watch things.” 

“That’s just it. I can’t sleep even if I tried.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Can you pass me some hand sanitizer or something? There’s...blood on my hands.” 

Your partner’s voice cracked slightly. It was then when you realized that this had been the first time that he had fired at real people. 

“I’ve got a water bottle? Is that enough?” 

“Yeah. It’s fine.” 

He splashed the liquids around while wiping his hands away, then flicked the remnants of water away. 

“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“How do you mean?” 

Chan’s coat draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it in closer around your arms. The night had been cool, and the AC blasting in the car didn’t make it much better. 

Jeongin licked his lips. “Nothing was supposed to happen tonight. We made sure of it. No one was suspicious, we ran background checks, we checked the whole area...” 

“Hey,” You attempted to turn your tone softer, “We couldn’t have seen it coming. They just rolled up out of nowhere, there was no way that we could’ve stopped it--” 

“--Innocent people died tonight. If they were out for the prince, or maybe they weren’t, why so much collateral damage?” 

“Obviously they don’t care.” 

“Bastards.” Jeongin took the last bits of water to slug. “We’re gonna fucking find out why they did all of this.” 

Two shifted in his seat, “Any word? Hate to mention it, but I’m getting kinda tired. It’s past three already.”  

“Fox?” 

He clicked around, then shook his head. “Still nothing.” 

Chan snorted a bit in his sleep: an action which woke him up. 

“Wha-what? Where are we? Are the there yet? What time is it? Fuck...my head feels like it’s splitting...” 

“We’re finding somewhere, your Highness. We’ll be there soon.” Your partner motioned for you to hand him another water to give to the disorientated prince. 

Chan nodded while he rubbed his temples. “Shit. Please tell me that I just made this all up. That it’s some kind of fucked up nightmare...” 

You threw Chan’s coat back to him. “Unfortunately, no. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can.” 

“Who the hell were those guys?” Water dripped down his neck in a way that you pretended not to notice. “They were wearing crests. I couldn’t tell, but weren’t they red?” 

“Very observant, your Highness. F?” 

The younger man bit his lip, “I’ve already tried finding where the crest is from, but I can’t find anything that resembles it within our database. I was able to see one up close. It looked like a heart or something like that, and a diamond. I’m guessing that it could’ve been maybe a spade? Like the kind that you see on playing cards? Still, since we’ve never seen it before, we can only assume that they must be a new group.” 

Chan nodded, but anyone could tell that the information had flown right over his head. He licked at his wet lips, then sighed. 

“Bee, You okay? Fox? I suppose that I should ask you both.” 

“I’m...fine.” His sudden concern came as a surprise, and your partner looked just as shocked. 

“I-I’m fine too. No holes in me or anything.” Jeongin suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not, your Highness. How much did you have to drink?” 

“Oh...enough. I guess that I lost track at some point. Those kind of things are boring anyway.” 

“Fox? You’ve got that locale?” Two clicked the turn signal. 

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one. Sorry, It’s about an hour from here.” 

“Locale?” Chan cocked his head. 

“A safe house. Or something like that. We need to lie low while we wait for instructions.” 

“No one has said anything...? Not even...my father?” 

Jeongin shook his head gravely. “No.” 

The young prince fell silent, and you watched as worry fell over his clouded eyes that were lined with bags. Normally his expression was anything but strained, but in this moment, you saw doubt sweep over him like the darkness on the road ahead. You leaned the farthest you could from your seat to grab at his hand behind you. 

“You’re safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you.” 

His hand was warm, maybe a little clammy, but it was soft, like that of a prince, naturally. Still, it was strong and veined. Chan’s thumb rubbed soft little circles into your own skin, muttering, “Thank you.” For once, his eyes which would normally devour you like some kind of rare dish held you earnestly. I trust you, they said. 

“Two. Let’s switch.” Jeongin slammed his laptop closed. “I’ve got it from here.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was quiet. As most of them where. It was even a bit stereotypical: a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods on nearly all sides. It had a little overgrown garden, and a shed that looked like it held either all kinds of gardening equipment, or the real thing that sheds were meant for in your business: ammo. It had a white painted porch with cracking paint, as well as porch swing with rusting chains. In the early morning the windows were are black, but still faintly reflected the massive array of sparking stars above your heads. The only thing less antique about the home was the touch keypad on the front door. It beeped with a little tune, then flashed the insignia of the agency: a ticking clock. 

“Two, can you find a generator or something? Get the electricity up and going?” 

“Can do,” He said, then disappeared. 

Two was mostly a quiet man, a feature that gave you both reasons to trust him and to be suspicious. Besides him being a bit smaller in stature with thin legs and characteristically round cheeks, there was something different about him that you couldn’t place; something unexpected. You wished once again that questions weren’t on the list of things that weren’t allowed. 

“There should be clothes around here somewhere.” Jeongin padded his way through the dark rooms. “You shower first your Highness.” 

Chan tripped over his feet as he spread out his arms to find his way. You giggled lightly at the action. A man really was stripped down of any and all sense of composure when his life had been threatened and he had to have his bodyguards pat his back while he had gotten sick after one too many royal drinks. 

The lights flashed on, flickering at first with the sound of the lightbulbs waking up after a long sleep. The interior design of the place was exactly as you had expected: it was a family home with a fireplace and several chairs and couches covered in dust. Bookshelves were full with the strangest assortment of reading material and board games there held a thin layer of grey dust too. The kitchen was small and cozy: it had all the necessities. A stained glass chandelier hung over the wooden table for eight, and was decorated with glass hummingbirds and pink flowers. In odd corners of the house, children’s toys had been sitting untouched. A family must’ve been living there, and you wondered what must’ve become of them. 

Two returned with spiderwebs caught on his dress coat. “Water should be hot in about thirty minutes or so I think.” 

Your partner crossed the room, raking a hand through his snowy white hair. “I’m gonna try and make the calls again. See if I get anything. If not, we’ll have to...begin Operation Cheshire.” 

It was the phrase that you had hoped neither you nor your partner would have to say. 

Chan slumped down in one of the upholstered chairs, throwing dust into the air as he did. Compared to the rest of the room, him and his designer clothes seemed comically out of place. “Wha-what’s that?” 

Two pinched between his eyes, and your chest shook with an unsure inhale. 

“It means that we assume the worst. HQ got taken over and we’re all at risk. Information about us could be accessible to anyone. Essentially, we go into sleeper mode until we can reconvene with other agents...if there are any more. We dissapear. Next, we work on getting you back home, no matter what it takes.” 

“HQ?” What are you talking about?” Chan toyed with his diamond set cufflinks. “HQ? Like whoever manages the bodyguards??” 

“Your Highness...” You and your partner exchanged knowing glances. “We’re more than bodyguards.” 

“What?!” 

“We’re operatives. Agents. We work for an intelligence agency that specializes in a bunch of different things...protecting royalty if needed.” 

“What the fuck?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Chan slapped his leg. “Fuck! No one tells me anything!!! I get that I’m a fucking prince but I’m not fucking useless!” 

The memory of the confidential file reemerged in your memory: the promise that you had made to His Majesty The King after he had requested a “special hire” to watch over his son. The file itself had contained a several thousand words or so that you hadn’t bothered to read, but rather skimmed till you got to the signature part. Carroll had simply nodded before you put your pen to the paper. 

“It was for your saf--” 

“--My father did this, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Some kind of sick way to keep tabs on me? See what I’m doing?? God! The man never trusts me. If the thinks that I’m that much of a disappointment...this is just--” 

“Your Highness, it’s been a long day, you’ve been through a lot, just take a shower and get some rest. Alright? We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Two stepped forward with his hands folded in front of him. His interjection was unlike his previously quiet presence. 

The prince sighed, tapping his tragically expensive shoe on the hardwood. 

“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

Chan’s eyes grew dark with an authoritative air that you had seen before. His façade had slipped over him like a cloak. He rose, buttoning his jacket, then tweaking his sliver brooches decorating his neck. 

“Fox. Bee. Two. Thank you. Good evening.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Chan knew that it was you at the door when you would knock two times, then pause, and knock twice more. In your hands, you held a cup of warm milk. For a prince, even he couldn’t reject the beverage to help him fall asleep at night. You had seen him order it at hotels on more than one occasion. Jeongin had found a nearby store to get food for the morning. The two of you had suddenly found yourselves as now both his bodyguards and his servants. While you waited, you hoped to God that Carroll would compensate you for the extra work. 

The door creaked open, revealing your prince modestly dressed in plaid flannel, hair dripping slightly in wet strands. You had never seen him as simple as this before: no princely persona or cold exterior to upkeep. He looked...normal. 

“What is it Bee?” 

“I thought you might like some...well, this.” You provided him with the cup. “I know that it’s nearly morning, but you should still try to sleep in. We’ll take care of things. 

He took the ceramic mug from your hands, fingers barely brushing against yours for mere moments. 

“Thank you.” He hushed with a thankful smile. “Would you like to come in? We could...just kind of...sit for a minute.” 

Behind him, sun peaked at the horizon, a splitting of red piercing the navy deep of the night. The colors muddled, blurred, a bit like the color of blood fading into the deep fabric of one’s formal wear. It was desolate, but still beautiful. 

“To be honest,” His eyes fell, “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

You had saved the biggest room for him. It smelled of mothballs and other old things like sheets that had rested in a dark room for much too long. Still, there was a kind of familiarity to it all and the way that the matted rugs and brass vintage lamps lit the room with a soft yellow light. The full sized bed creaked once you had sat down. In his golden halo, Chan’s brown strands appeared to be softer, and not as prim and staged. 

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realized that there are things that are out of my control. You know more than I do, and I accept that. I trust you...a-and Fox.” 

You rubbed your hands into the jeans you had found in the cupboard. They had dirt and grass stains from work in the garden you presumed. 

“It’s okay. I understand that you would be scared. It’s okay to be. I...get scared sometimes too. I know that it might look like it, but I fear...for my life too. So does Jeong--Fox.” 

Chan’s voice cracked. “Is someone out to kill me?” 

You sighed, sensing his hesitation. “I don’t know. But we will know soon.” 

The prince stared down at the white bubbles in his milk, then swirled around the liquid to watch the way that that it moved. 

“I don’t think I’d like to die. Would be pretty unfortunate, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve got so many other things to do. A kingdom to manage, people to govern, much more bottles of Scotch to drink, parties to attend...” 

His eyes met yours, and you could see the very fragility of the life that he spoke of right in them. He was right in that dumb speech of his. He really was just a person. 

“...I like to think that I’ll get married someday to someone that I love. I actually would really like to do that.” He chuckled. “Lame, right? Someone like me who always bounces around. Wouldn’t take me for one?” 

“Mm. No. I think that from what I’ve observed of you, and I’m trained to observe, I think that bouncing around...means you’re looking for the right thing. And, I guess that it’s fun too.” 

Chan chuckled, “You’re good at observing.” 

You paused, remembering Lee Minho from earlier. 

“Were you looking when you were talking to that man at the banquet? He was very handsome.” 

The prince placed the cup down. “He was. I don’t know. He just seemed kind of interesting. The kind of mystery that only a stranger has. I would’ve liked to have talked to him more now that I think about it. Maybe it would’ve been worth my time.” Chan twisted his back to crack it. “I don’t know if you saw but he had some really nice fucking thighs.” 

“Ahhh. Nice thighs. Didn’t know that you cared for that.” 

The two of you laughed together a bit like old friends. It felt nice. 

“...Bee. I should also probably apologize for how I acted back before we got in the car. I was...drunk, scared. I said some things--” 

“--That you were in love with me?” 

“Yeah...that. I realized that...I’ve been...unfair to you. You don’t deserve the ridicule. You’ve only ever been helpful to me and--” 

“--Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” You shrugged. You had met hundreds of guys like him before, at least you thought. 

Chan sighed as if he was gathering himself. “Bee. I did mean what I said.” 

“What? Ch-your Highness, you don’t mean that.” 

He laughed, “It’s alright. You can call me Chan. And...yes. I did. You’ve got a kind of mystery to you too. Frankly, I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“This...this is inappropriate.” You shifted, the rising off the bed. Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t know why. Maybe he was just too damn charming. But, he was like that with everyone. 

He rose too, hastily following you on your way to the door. “Bee, wait.” 

“Chan, you can’t do this. It makes things...complicated.” 

He advanced, slowly, closing the space between you. “It’s only complicated if you feel the same.” 

“I-I don’t.” 

The prince’s hand carefully rose to cup your face, a gesture so gentle that you shied from the feeling. Even this close still he smelled of white roses. 

“Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?” Your breath hitched. 

Chan grinned, “There you go making this complicated again.” 

A wandering hand of yours acting on its own reached to tug hold of his shirt. 

The prince leaned in closer, nearly close enough to breech the gap between his plush lips and yours. 

“What if I don’t mind making things...” He whispered the word, grazing his mouth over yours, “...complicated?” 

“Ch--” 

He pressed his weight fully into you, a smashing of lips met with incessant heat and your back shoved into the door. His tongue easily twisted around yours, and his soft gasps filled up your mouth. It had taken you a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and to decide what to do with yourself. His mouth was blazing, it was as if he was weaving a spell, or perhaps you had made it up for yourself. He kissed you with vitality; like he had never tasted anything like you before and was starving for you. You realized, perhaps you had wondered what it would’ve felt like. One hand squeezed tighter to his shirt, and you kissed back, meeting his heat. 

Jeongin’s voice called down the hall, “Bee? Bee, are you there?” The sound of your bedroom door shut. 

You pushed Chan off you with flat hands on his chest and an amazed smile on his face. 

“This...this doesn’t mean anything.” You gasped, reaching for the knob after a moments pause. 

Chan snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Goodnight your Highness.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

For a man so young Jeongin liked his coffee black, and drank it like an old man too with his nose buried in a newspaper while it fogged up his glasses--or what was left of them. 

“I finally got correspondence from Carroll this morning. She said that HQ experienced some kind of blackout and all the systems went offline. It wasn’t safe for her to contact us on a regular line. They got everything back up and running and everything seems fine, or so they think.” 

Your partner had already made himself comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee with slippers. You never would’ve guessed that he was a trained assassin on the side. 

Two returned huffing in the door from his morning run. He was one of those people. 

“Any word?” He rubbed his face off with a dishtowel. 

“Disgusting.” You sneered at the crude action. 

“Well, we’ve got thousands of miles between us and the kingdom and what seems like a hell of a lot of guys on our tail, but, after I sent Carroll the info about the red crest, she wants us to do some digging. 

“With the prince in tow?” You lowered your voice lest the sleeping royal heard you. “I don’t think so.” 

“It sounds like she’s convinced that the person behind all of this could be someone who attended the charity ball. And, I don’t really disagree. They must be good at keeping secrets if they evaded us.” 

“Hm. You’re right. A high profile event like that, even though its for a good cause it’s always a competition with those snobs. I just don’t know who could order something so cruel...all those people in the same place...” 

“Since it’s a new group, they must still be underground. So, to see who lives underground, you’ve got to go there yourself to find out. Or, in our case, find someone who knows the rabbit hole.” 

Two grabbed a chair, ruffling his deep brown soaked hair. “What does that mean?” 

Jeongin flipped his laptop around. “This is the man that we need to go see. Codename White Rabbit. Or as he calls himself--” 

“--Bun.” You cut in. “Yeah, I know him.” 

Both of the men chimed, “You do?” 

“Yeah, he’s undercover ops for the agency. He’s sort of a jack of all trades. He owns some kind of front out in Egypt. It’s called The Tea Party. Bar up front, but in the back he provides all kinds of information--for both sides. His cut is that for any information he gives to the agency he gets cash compensation. If anyone would know about anything underground, it would be him. As I’m sure Carroll told you, he’s a stickler for meeting in person. He’s one of us. I think.” 

“You think?” 

“He also does...other deviant things. I heard that these days he’s had a couple dealings in some...substances. Black market stuff. Carroll also provides safety for his business in return for his information.” 

“That...sounds illegal. Immoral even.” Jeongin’s eyes widened upon hearing the news about his mother. 

“You’ve got to pay to play you know.” 

“So Egypt then?” Two wiped off the back of his neck with the dishtowel, stretching out one of his toned arms. “I’ve always wanted to go there.” 

“Oh--one more thing.” Jeongin took a rather long sip from his cup. “The King’s counsel reached out to me too this morning. They asked me if the Prince was safe and where we were. I have them loose details of both. They seemed somewhat relieved.” 

Chan sauntered down the steps with a massive yawn, stretching up his arms and shirt to reveal an inkling of his abs. You also pretended not to notice it. 

“Gooood morning everyone. Fox. Two.” He dished out a wink. “Bee.” 

“Morning your Highness.” Jeongin nodded, and crossed his legs. “Feeling well?” 

“Ahhh much better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, staring out the little window over the sink, then took an indulgent sip. “It’s peaceful here. I kind of like that.” 

“Your Highness, we’ve received word--” 

Chan rose his hand to shush your partner, then languidly took another sip. “I’m still enjoying my drink F.” 

A light buzzing resonated somewhere in the house, a bit like the sound of a dryer, and the home started vibrating. Your water glass on the table rippled. 

“Two, did you notice if there was anything strange about the house?” 

The buzzing grew nearer. 

Two looked puzzled, “No, why?” 

The vibrating grew more violent, and your glass shuddered off the wooden table, shattering on the ground upon impact. 

Chan squinted out the window, “Is that a--” 

“CHAN GET DOWN!” You shrieked. 

Within milliseconds the whistling of a bomb screeched through the air, then crashed into the rickety ceiling, splintering wood everywhere and demolishing the furniture. 

You had seconds to act while the matte black bomb hissed with a steam releasing from some seam and ticked. You sprinted to grab Chan’s arm as hard as you possibly good, all in a blur, pummeling your bodies against one of the shattered windows, and hurling yourself out to the morning dew. You had no time to see if Jeongin or Two had made their exit, but looked out, towing the prince so hard you must’ve done some damage to his shoulder. You stumbled to your feet, tripping, and grunting until the bomb diffused, and exploded the cottage altogether. You covered Chan’s head and most of his body with your own as a shield and the shards of wood, metal, and brick came flying. 

“Ar-are you okay?” You patted the prince down in his shock, who stared blankly with empty eyes. 

The prince’s flannel had been torn to shreds with glass, and blood oozed onto the fabric on his arms. 

“Yeah...yeah...I’m...fine.” 

“BEE! Y/N!” Jeongin screamed over the flames to find you. 

“OVER HERE!” You bellowed back, and your partner came running with Two behind him with terrible cuts on his face. 

“They knew. They FUCKING knew.” He panted after reaching you. 

“We have to get out of here.” Two gasped, and blood ran down his face, nearly into his eye. “If they know where we are now, they’ll come to check to see if the damage is done. We have to move.”  

The sky filled with an angry smoke, and the once peaceful forest filled with the colors of orange and red. 

“The car?” 

“Broken windows from the blast but I should be able to get it going. There’s spare parts in the shed. And ammo. A fuck ton of it.” 

“We’ll need it.” 

You pulled the prince to his feet as he blinked wildly at you and your team. 

“Fuck.” Was all the could manage. 

In your complete surprise, Chan’s bloodied and cracked hands pulled your face into his, kissing you with lips that tasted of the salt of blood. 

“I fucking love you Bee. I’ve decided.” 

Jeongin’s jaw dropped in the corner of your eye, so you promptly slapped the prince upside the face. 

“You’re in shock. We need to get out of here.” 

A wrinkled smile danced on the royal’s face, and you might’ve thought that it was a bit charming. 

“Admit it. You love me too Bee.” 

~🌹~ 

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket,Se03, Ep 9 (part 1)

“ppl & feelings can’t be bound down”~

What an ep for my girl tohru! She completed her growth thanks to kyo’s rejection. really, It was so hard, cruel, understandable but above all so necessary for her to reach a logical realistic conclusion that “I can love/want things from the bottom of my heart, but at the end I can’t force or bound them to me, I won’t regret loving/wanting them, but I’ll move forward regardless, no more standing still”.

-The fear of being alone:

Aren’t we all? We’re scared to face the word after breaking bonds, changing, not getting what we want, having to start over. Such feelings run deeper into us all. Both tohru & akito were scared to face the word without the old comfortable bond that they got used to:

Tohru realized today, that she cant keep talking to a cold photo, can’t live according to her mom’s expectations, to fulfill her mom’s wishes, can’t narrate her daily life to her mom & fill her life with other ppl’s own issues to distract her self from facing her own loneliness & from looking deeper into what should she do with her life. As she fell in love with kyo, tohru started talking to him! forgetting to inform her mom abt her life’s details, thinking abt what will she do “after graduation?”. As kyo asked in se02, ep2. Graduating highschool is ur mom’s wish, What would u wanna do after?” Tohru didnt have a response of “an after”cuz her mom wasnt there to tell her! Tohru has to choose “the after” herself!!!! “The after” was being with kyo & starting life together! figuring what to do next together! She no longer alone! she found her most precious person!

Except: he cant be with her. Again tohru is scared. What to do now! she wanted a bond but is forced to leave it. Loving kyo was stage 1 to be free from her grief. Moving forward without kyo is stage 2 to learn not to repeat the painful journey again! She didnt let go of her mom & kyo easily. It was hard, scary but she must do it. You must respect their wishes & move on. As scared as she is, there will be sadness & happiness ahead.

Akito realized she cant keep an empty box, cant keep fulfilling her dad’s wishes to “be loved & special” cant bound the zodiacs to her for good. They may love her or not, it doesn't matter, if they wish to leave for whatever reason, she cant force them to stay.

Except now that the zodiacs are leaving, what does she have to live for? who will be with her? she isnt good with strangers? she never met anyone who wasnt forced to obey her & be grateful for her. Strangers cant be forced to love her! what will she do now? stretch you hand for a greeting. Tohru told her, make a friend, they might refuse you, but hey might accept u too, I’ll make it easy, Hi, I;m tohru, whats ur name?

The power of true love: ( reality vs fiction)

In fairy tales, the princess fix the prince. the prince save the princess. The prince kiss the princess, she wakes up & they be happy ever after. Except real life has no prince & princess, You cant always be saved, you cant always save others, pure intense true love cant always be the answer!

Yuki was first when tohru needed physical saving. he saved her twice! Yuki’s nickname in school ”the prince”. Yuki is always cool, thoughtful & kind. Yuki always knew what to say & do! he deserves tohru’s romantic love more than kyo, right? But “ppl & feelings can’t be bound down”~ . Yuki didn't feel this way towards tohru, granted no one (excepts kakeru) knows the reason why he loves her fondly (she’s his mom figure). The official” prince isnt the one for her. Real life isn’t a fairy tale. Yuki has someone who sees he isn’t cool, perfect or a prince “ granted no one knows abt machi, yet! ) XD

In tohru monologue: she didnt think abt saving, that's not why she loves kyo. She stated normal, silly, mundane things! a shy smile, awkward kindness & the likes. Stuff ppl love abt each other in real life. You dont say, I love my husband cuz he saved me from a burning building in the 7th floor! lol. But fiction is so full of this. Princes saving princesses.

Tohru didnt fix kyo, too! as much as her love helped him greatly to find hope, the best writing choice is that tohru’s love also brought despair to kyo! To him, she’s the symbol of hope, peace & comfort! she’s also, the symbol of despair, torment & unease! EPIC! The kyo who’s stuck in the past cant be with her, the kyo who will move beyond trauma, abuse & broken soul will be with her. The duality is all on kyo’s shoulder: what will he choose? Can he choose in his state now?

In fairy tales the princess wakes up after the kiss. In real life, we don't. Tohru didn’t. Regardless if she fainted during or after the kiss. The kiss fixed nothing. Kyo’s despair in seeing near-dead tohru in a not-so-subtle mimic to his nightmare, has manifested itself into the sweetest kiss upon seeing her conscious & talking. Kyo isnt good with words, his actions are his words. When he’s scared, sad, in trauma: running away. when he’s  fond of her, grateful for her existence: head knock, head pats, hand holding & a kiss. Still the kiss fixed nothing. Kyo is still traumatized more than ever now. Tohru still feels rejected “even if I’m not with you, plz live”.

Talking fixes everything. It didn’t here, kyo & tohru talked & showed their most vulnerable side to the other, but still didn’t meet half ways, regardless of all the love. That’s cuz they keep missing each other’s best timing. Kyo is stuck in the past while tohru has moved forward. even if in her mind she’s the one who stood & he moved. this shows they aren’t on the same wave yet. Before meeting each other again, kyo must learn from his mistake like tohru did. He must face his ultimate demon: his dad. The one who created the current broken kyo.

Rebelling against parents: ( sign of growth & freedom of choice):

Rebelling against parents  is a sign of a desire to choose one’s path, decide one’s own future. Away to express an oppressed desire.

Yuki rebelled against his mom in se02. he told her I’m not going to the college you chose. I’ll chose my path. I’m not staying away from Ayame. My bro is good in my book. I chose who I want to be with. He told her what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.

Tohru rebelled against her mom today. told her I’m not wasting myself doing only what you I think you’ll approve off. You might bot forhet kyo, thats ur choice, But I DO. I love him even if you might not approve of him, Even if he rejected me, my feelings wont change, but I’ll move forward from the grief & pain. mother. She told her what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.

Kyo WILL rebelled against his disgusting dad. He MUST. It is his turn now. He’ll tell him I’m not wasting myself being locked in a cage. I have a future! I’m not a monster. I am LOVED! I might not 100% sure why I’m loved, but the truth cant be hidden. I have ppl who love me! cheer for me! I want to live! enough of death! mom & kyoko died, tohru nearly did, but I’m not gonna die! I’m not killing ME! I’‘ll do what MOM didnt do! I’ll do what YOU couldn't do! I’ll live! He’ll tell him what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.  I cant wait! I’m in tears just thinking abt it! Kyo was punished enough! time for happiness!

Side Notes:

While I’m impressed with tohru’s growth, as they did her justice in this ep, this doesn’t erase that the buildup for tohru’s own journey & trauma was mediocre. There is a reason ppl commented ” omg tohru, you can love your mom AND kyo!. ” Grief is illogical, long process & it sucks that we weren’t allowed to experience tohru’s grief & her mom’s role in tohru’s abandonment issues. Huge lost opportunity that a good conclusion ep cant erase! but like tohru, I’m moving on ~

The path of growth for kyo will start by rejecting the demon: his dad. No. other. option. Hold abusers accountable for their crimes. Stop their madness. Tell them off.

We know kyo is baka! that’s his trade mark, the endearing baka! a lot of characters in the show think so! I love it, but I’m craving baka-yuki! XD! really, yuki is cool, level-headed & smart, but let him be baka too! this only shows up in tiny microscopic doses, but they’re my fave doses of yuki! it humanizes the “perfect prince”, the “gifted high status rat”! Thus him not seeing kyo running the other side, is my fave look on him! XD.

I appreciate that kyo & yuki put their differences aside when they’re with tohru. You cant tell yuki is hella pissed off with kyo, but he restrained himself. His gaze while full of anger is also full of sympathy as he heard/saw kyo’s panic upon the thought of loosing tohru. He understand they both only mean the best for each other, but also tried they both keep missing each other & not meeting half way! Also, yuki being the only one in the hospital is realistic & endearing. No need for them all to be there & yuki lives with her & is so close to her.

kyo not being the hospital is fantastic! thank you writer-San! why would kyo go to the hospital after thinking his nightmare came true? kyoko /his mom warned him, you’ll hurt another person.. he did.. he didn't cause her fall... but caused her sadness & hurt.

Momiji’s reprimanding gaze is my fave look on him! Also, the best response to what akito did. Akito isnt used to such judgemental gaze. Kureno grabbed her cheeks, gently told her you shouldn't do that, the old maid told her you are right, Dr. Hatori erased her mistakes from ppl heads & bodies, shigure being either cold or kissing her ass, coxing her to yet torment another zodiac in his grand scheme to break the curse as happened in the beach arc.

You bet hana & arisa will be there next ep! Arisa will meet kureno & akito for sure. To path the way for their romance as seen in the ED.

Shigure’s “remorse” is a whole can of worms. Playing with ppl’s hearts & feelings to gain someone’s affection is no laughing matter. Each time blood is shed, he contributed somehow. he didnt force anyone to hurt the other, but he played with matches & never got hurt.

Shigure must be glad akito stabbed kureno. Not cuz he’s sadistic or bad person. He isn’t, but cuz akito stabbing kureno is akito cutting her bond with him. Go shigure, your girl removed her lover with blood. Kureno is punished for sleeping with ur girl by blood! so, when is ur punishment for sleeping with ur lover’s mom? none? ok.

The animation is good. They didnt villinize akito by drawing extra manic features like se02. Kyo’s broken & tormented face once again epicly drawn. However, akito’s slaps on tohru’s face were comedic, unnecessary & such bad taste! Stop using violence for extra drama, furuba!

Also, tohru, I love you, I understand you are broken but charging at a person, who has a history of violence & physical abuse & holding a knife, is stupid. No other description. I’m glad she didnt accidentally kill you in her initial rage.

Everything akito’s redemption, kureno & shigure are part 2 in my review.

[hajimariwaquartet]

Izumi blinks when Sakuya pauses in his movements, glancing at the script in his hand. Hesitation and fear is visible on his face. "Sakuya, what's wrong?"

"Um..." His hands drops to his side, and he doesn't meet her eyes. Juza blinks, not expecting the sudden stop.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"I'm a bit scared of the next scene... and I don't know why," Sakuya admits, clutching the front of his jacket anxiously. "I mean, I've rehearsed on my own but letting other people hear this part... scares me."

Izumi skims that part of the script, and she grimaces. That hit too close to home. No wonder he was uncomfortable with it. She looks up with her lips set in a line. They are almost at the end, and the first rehearsal has been going well. But, she certainly wasn't going to force him if he's uncomfortable. "We can ask Tsuzuru to rewrite this scene if you want. Should I call Tsuzuru over?"

Sakuya glances at the script in his hand, at Izumi, Juza, and the other cast to the side. His eyes flicker back to Izumi, and he smiles a bit. He shakes his head. "How about we try one run first though? I can't let Tsuzuru's hard work go to waste."

Izumi sees the desperation mixed in with determination in his eyes. She hesitates. Would there be worth in letting him play this scene? Though, she could definitely see why Tsuzuru casted him for lead this time. Besides, he requested this particular role, after all. She nods. "Of course. You're the lead actor this time so I trust in your judgement. But, tell us if you're okay with this scene."

"Okay then..." Sakuya turns to Juza, with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Please start the scene then, Juza."

Juza doesn't say anything, still eyeing him. But after a while, he silently nods, closing his eyes to get into character. He opens his eyes after a few seconds, lips set into a scowl and eyebrows furrowed. Juza is gone, and Arthur, heir of the Pluvian Throne, stands in his place instead.

"You've been lying to me all this time! You said that we'd be back home by this time, and yet we're still on this god-forsaken sea!" Arthur turns away with practiced grace, crossing his arms petulantly. This scene is supposed to be both Arthur and Martin's turning point. "All of you pirates are the same type of scum that should be persecuted. I ought to put out a decree against you when I get to the throne."

Izumi glances at Sakuya, and she's a bit worried when he doesn't respond immediately. His head is bowed down and his fists are clenched so tightly that they're turning white. The atmosphere is tense—as the scene should be—yet it feels off.

Martin lifts his head, expression furious yet close to crying. Izumi doesn't ever recall seeing an expression like that on him before, and it squeezed her heart a bit. She doesn't need to take a look at Itaru, Masumi, Taichi, nor Azami to see their shock either. He walks up to Arthur, giving off the aura of a Pirate King—instead of his usually good-natured and lighthearted atmosphere.

"Shut up." He hisses through gritted teeth. "No one—I repeat—no one understands what I go through... yet I still choose to be a kind person, regardless of what people think of me. I've been nice to you and even treated you like a friend, just because you're a person too."

The script tells them that Martin was supposed to turn away at this point, but he doesn't. To his credit, Arthur stands his ground, still looking incredibly pissed.

"Why do I always get nothing in return for all the kindness I show everyone?! Is it not enough for me to get nothing in return? Do I have to get... betrayal on top of it?" Martin's voice cracks at the end, and tears begin rolling down his cheeks. Juza's face finally breaks from his expression to an expression of panic. Everyone else in the room is frozen as well, and not even Izumi could speak up. The emotions simmering in the room are just so overwhelming.

"Still... why do I get nothing in return? I've always fought against the odds when all I wanted was to—" Martin sniffles, yet despite his tears, he continues. His voice falls to a whisper. He turns away from Juza, a sleeve over his eyes. "I just wanted for people to accept me. I always get turned away no matter how much of myself I give away..."

Sakuya hiccups as he tries to wipe his tears, but they don't stop. Juza reaches out for him, but before he could tap his shoulder, Sakuya runs out of the room. He stumbles and almost hits the doorway on the way out.

Only Juza hears Sakuya's whispered "I'm sorry." His hand falls to his side.

Izumi feels her own eyes water. Hearing that from Sakuya—regardless if it was still in the script or not—hurt so much. Izumi doesn't know how much Sakuya was keeping down, and that was what pierced her heart the most.

Would no one have known about Sakuya's bottled up thoughts if not for this script?

this is a wip that i've been trying to complete, but to no avail :( writing fake plays/event stories are absolute hell, so i'll probably never finish this.

this is a haruaki mixed play (fusion of action elements with drama), with sakuya lead and juza co-lead!! the basic premise is that sakuya plays an infamous pirate king in this (martin), while juza plays a bratty prince (arthur). arthur gets caught up in stuff that lands him with in martin's pirate crew, and they have to work together to find the treasure that will get the bounty off martin's head and also prove that arthur is the true heir.

the event story is sakuya trying to act the scene above without his emotions getting in the way, and he does this basically talking out his bottled up feelings over the years (with juza and the rest of the cast's help ofc!)

[malfoymanortings]

somebody else PT 1

SUMMARY: Mae has been in love with Draco Malfoy since her first year at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy fell in love with Mae in their fourth year, and then promptly fell into Pansy’s bed instead. All the while, Mae clings to the hope that Draco will change. That is, until, Ron Weasley takes his chance.

PAIRINGS: toxic!Draco x OC, Ron x OC, Ginny x Luna

!a sprinkle of smut in this chapter! 

TRIGGERS: suicidal idealization for a brief moment.

"What do you feel?" Draco asked her, a smirk on his devilishly handsome face.

"I don't feel anything." she replied emotionlessly, staring blankly at his uncaring eyes.

"Why's that?" he inquired, the smirk not leaving. He asked her this all the time. Every time, she gave him the same reply.

"Because you always do this."

"So leave." Draco snarled, a disgusted look on his face.

"I can't leave you, because I love you." the words hurt, and she briefly shut her eyes as he caressed her jaw with his hand, gently placing his thumb on her full lips, his family ring cool against her skin.

"But I don't." he said the words cruelly, harshly dragging his thumb down her lip and then placing his hand on her throat.

"I know." she acknowledged his cruel words. It was nothing new to her.

He roughly shoved her away from him, his hand jostling her collarbone harshly. He laughed as she flinched, turning away from her. She knew he would turn before he left the door, and he did, coming back to her and pushing her against the wall. He gripped her neck tightly, the metal from his rings pressing painfully on her throat, placing his lips to her ear.

"You would do anything for me." he breathed out, his teeth grazing her lobe.

Draco roughly took her robes off, and she unbuttoned her shirt. He pushed her down onto his bed, their lips mashing together as he roughly gripped her hips, leaving his fingerprints behind. He trailed his lips down her neck, to her breasts where he quickly undid her bra, leaving her exposed as he groped at her skin. She moaned at his touch, which seemed to make him go faster as he quickly slid down her skirt and pumped two of his long fingers deep into her pussy. 

Before she was ready, he thrusted his dick inside her, making her gasp at the pain. He had his arms propped up on either side of her head, leaning down to leave marks on her neck as he pumped in and out of her. She moaned loudly as the pain subsided and pleasure took its place. 

"You like that, don't you?" Draco muttered breathlessly. "Fifthly little slut."

His breathing became ragged, and with one final hard thrust, he pulled out of her and rolled off the bed. She lay there, regulating her breathing, and shutting her eyes so he didn't see her cry. As usual, it was over as quickly as it had began, and she knew that was because he got all his foreplay done with Pansy fucking Parkinson.

"D'you want me to go now?" she asked quietly, sliding her skirt back on and retrieving her bra.

"Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle will be back soon, so you'll probably want to be gone." Draco shrugged, putting his clothes back on and fixing his hair.

"Or are you just going to invite Pansy up here later?" she couldn't stop the sarcastic comment from coming out, sliding her shirt on and tucking it into her skirt.

Draco smirked at her. "Maybe."

She felt the tears prick again, and she quickly left his dorm without saying goodbye. After all this time, surely she would have gotten used to the feeling. Surely, she would have stopped caring.

But caring was the only thing she knew how to do. And Draco knew that. Draco was well aware of that.

It had started last year during their third year. She had always had a crush on Draco, and as it had turned out, he had known the whole time. He had love for her at one point, she assured herself, but she just couldn't figure out when the love had faded. Maybe it was last year at the Yule Ball when Pansy's dress sparkled more than hers and Pansy's tits were on full display in her low cut gown.

Maybe it was when they had grown comfortable enough that it could have been mistaken as losing feelings. She had started to see the tender look he would give her fade after the Yule Ball. That was when he began making excuses for why he couldn't study with her, why he wasn't sitting with her at meal times, until eventually she found Draco and Pansy wrapped together on the common room couch.

Perhaps if she hadn't forgiven Draco so quickly, if she hadn't assured Draco that she understood why he cheated, maybe he wouldn't have done it again. She would never forget that glimmer of cocky triumph in his eye when he realized she had forgiven him without a fight.

Sitting on the edge of the balcony in the astronomy tower, she tilted her head to the sky, staring out at the vast spattering of stars. Her dark brown hair tangled in the wind around her, and she couldn't find it in herself to care.

As she thought of that first time she had caught Draco, she laughed bitterly as she recalled he hadn't even apologized. He had simply stared warily at her, gauging her reaction, and when she immediately said she wasn't upset, he had relaxed. Throughout it all, she had been the one to apologize. She had been the one to ask what she could change in order for this to never happen again. She had been the one to promise to do better. All the while he had sat there and planned out the next time he was going to see Pansy.

She knew people were shocked when she and Draco had started dating. It seemed unlikely, the bullying Slytherin prince paired with the unusually kind Slytherin outcast. Before Draco, she hadn't had many friends in her house. She had most of her friends in the other houses, Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley being her best ones. Luna had accepted Draco as her boyfriend, while Ginny was thoroughly against it. For a while, they had stopped being friends, only to pick back up after an awkward month of Luna finding the strangest reasons to bring them together. Luna couldn't stand the thought of her best friend and her crush no longer being friends. Through it all, Luna was the only one who knew just how many times Draco had cheated on her.

"My cousin must have an infestation of the nittlebigs," Luna had said loftily, holding her as she cried. "I don't understand why else he would hurt someone as beautiful and kind as you."

Luna never pressured her to break up with Draco, and that was part of why they were so close. She knew that regardless of what she told Luna, Luna would listen and offer judgement free advice. A rather large part of her wanted to carry a mini Luna around in her pocket so that when she was feeling down, Luna would have something rather kind to say or something so odd that it would distract her from her personal woes.

She longed for Luna now, desperately wishing she had a distraction from her mind.

Just jump.. the voice whispered in her head. jump, and you'll no longer feel anything.

The voice was so.. alluring. It was true, if she jumped, she wouldn't have to feel anything. It wasn't that she wanted to die, she just… no longer wanted to feel the constant heavy weight in her chest. The only time she got a reprieve was when Draco would walk in the room on a good day, and give her a smile that reminded her of the boy she fell in love with. The boy she had watched Hermione Granger punch in their third year, the boy who had been full of such cocky and pompous attitude that had ran away crying when someone had actually shown him action instead of talk. Draco was always all talk. Just like when he used to promise her he would be faithful. He no longer did that.

The wind grew stronger as she hoisted herself up on the ledge of the railing. She began walking along it like a balance beam, her arms spread out to keep her balance. The urge to jump became stronger than before, and she focused on keeping her balance so that her intrusive thoughts wouldn't overcome her.

Tears slipped down her cheeks a hole caved through her chest. All she wanted was to be loved.

There were footsteps coming from inside the astronomy tower. She carefully got down from the railing, wiping her cheeks as Ginny Weasley burst through the door with a haggard look on her face.

"Mae, what the bloody hell are you doing here this late at night?" Ginny demanded, her eyes narrowing as she took in her hollow look and wet eyes.

"I could ask you the same." she responded, twirling her wand between her fingers.

"Ron told me they saw you up here," Ginny paused, her frown creasing her forehead. "Figured I would check on you. What the hell happened?"

"Draco and I.. got in a little argument."

"Over what?"

Mae bit her lip. She hadn't wanted to tell Ginny, as she knew that it would be harder for her to keep things together if Ginny knew.

Tell her, the voice whispered. Tell her, because it will be easier.

"He was, erm," she cleared her voice. "Cheating on me with Pansy again."

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously, and her voice was hard and flat. "Again? How many times has he done this?"

She shrugged. There was no way she would tell Ginny she had kept track of each thirty seven times Draco had cheated on her. "Dunno."

"I'll kill him," said Ginny decisively. "I'll kill the prat."

"No, Ginny please," Mae pleaded, reaching out to grip the Gryffindor's robes. "I'm handling it! I just need to be better."

Ginny's mouth dropped open, and she gave Mae an incredulous look. "Mae, you're not the one at fault here. The slimy git bastard is the one who I should be hexing."

Mae shook her head furiously, tears sliding out. "No, you don't understand, I just need to change. I'm too soft, and he's just doing this so I'll be stronger for whatever is coming next-"

"Don't tell me you believe that rubbish!" Ginny shouted, this time gripping Mae's robes. "You are beautiful, you are smart, you are kind to a bloody fault, you are an amazing friend and I would never say that about any other Slytherin!"

"That doesn't mean I'm perfect!" Mae argued hotly, her frustration and sadness growing. "I may be all of those things, but at the end of it all I love him and I won't ever be good enough for him!"

She ended her shouting with a muttered cry, slumping into Ginny's open arms. "Why am I not good enough?"

"You are good enough, Mae," Ginny rubbed her back consolingly. "It's him who's not."

"That's the problem though, isn't it?" whispered Mae into Ginny's robes. "Everyone thinks he has no good, but me. I know he's good. He just needs to find himself again."

"You can't save everyone," replied Ginny softly, pulling away and cupping Mae's face with her hands. "You will wake up one day, and realize you've had enough. You're too young to have your life tied together with someone who will never see your worth."

Mae shrugged. This was why she was hesitant to tell Ginny. She knew that the wise witch would say something so absolutely truthful and clever that it would make her think of her situation in a different light.

"I think I need to sleep now."

Together they walked back through the castle, splitting apart for Mae to head downstairs to the Slytherin common room. She trudged her feet along, taking her time as she entered the thick door. Upon entering, she headed straight to her room she shared with Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, and Marissa Blackwoods. The other girls were fast asleep, Daphne's loud snoring filling the air, and Mae found it easy to settle in her bed. What she found difficult was attempting to sleep

Ginny's words kept spinning around her head. You'll wake up one day, and realize you've had enough. The only problem was, Mae couldn't imagine her life without Draco. Sure, he made her upset and made her not like her life. But he was comforting in the sense that he was familiar, she had spent nearly three years with him. That was such a long time, could she really give all that up just on the off chance that she would be happier without him?

One day, you'll realize you've had enough.

Part two

Part three

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 17

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A FEW MINUTES LATER

BJORNHEIMR

Sigurd dragged his feet across the uneven terrain, slogging through the dead woods that now served as Dag’s tomb. His hand shone vividly with a bright layer of red due to the blood that clung onto his skin, and his ears still buzzed with the echoes of his friend’s final cries.

As for Eivor, the jarl’s son appeared to be equally as harrowed as his companion. His eyes mirrored the frozen desolation of the bleak landscape sitting before him, and his face remained expressionless much like the corpses that now rested at Bjornheimr’s temple.

Both of them traversed the world like a pair of hollow shells, wandering through the dark in search of any light to hold onto. A black haze had blotted out the beam that once twinkled in their eyes, and it seemed as if the fire that once burned in them had been completely snuffed out.

Eivor just prayed this would be the end of their grief. It wouldn’t be long before they got the information they needed from Gorm, and the young man imagined they would soon be braving the seas again in search of the wretch’s father.

It was an endeavor that would only lead to more war, no doubt. There was a high chance that more people would die during their pursuit, and Eivor could no longer guarantee that even he would survive a second battle against Kjotve.

But after everything that had happened, he refused to shy away from this fight. Kjotve’s death wouldn’t bring Ulfar or Thora back from the dead, that much was true. But even then, Eivor hoped that -- at least -- it would serve as a balm to ease the pain now wracking his heart. 

He didn’t even care about reclaiming his honor anymore. All he wanted was to bring this horrid war to an end. Far too many people had been lost to Kjotve’s barbarity, and Eivor’s only desire now was to deliver peace unto those who had suffered for so long.

It was something he was willing to die for at this point, and a part of him suspected that he would.

“Wait,” Sigurd said as they entered the village. He stopped in his tracks and gazed in the distance, looking towards the docks. “Is that Randvi’s ship?”

Eivor followed his line of sight, nodding in response. “Yes. Randvi and her men returned not too long ago. They arrived whilst you were dealing with Dag.” He paused briefly, giving the prince a grim face. “...I’ve already told her about Thora and Ulfar. She’s at the temple now with my father and Ingrida. They’re preparing for tomorrow’s funeral.”

“...How is she?”

“How do you think? She knew Thora and Ulfar even longer than I did. She... she’s beyond devastated.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, hanging his head low in regret. “...Damn it. I should’ve killed Dag weeks ago. I should’ve confronted him from the start. He had been acting so strange ever since we came to Bjornheimr. I shouldn’t have waited this long to do something about it. Perhaps none of this would’ve happened then.”

Eivor took a few steps closer to him, speaking softly. “You are not to blame, Sigurd. You had no way of knowing Dag was the traitor.”

The prince wasn’t swayed. “On the contrary, I was the only one who could’ve known. I was the closest one with Dag out of anybody in our clan. I should’ve been paying more attention. I shouldn’t have let my love for him blind my judgement.”

Sigurd shut his eyes for a moment and let out a breath, clearly exhausted from the day’s events. “...I’m sorry, Eivor. I know you don’t fault me for what’s happened, but even then, I still carry some of the blame on my shoulders. I must be more vigilant from now on. I can’t allow anything like this to occur again, and I won’t. You have my word.”

Walking away before the other man could respond, Sigurd left Eivor behind and simply pushed forward into the village, emerging from the forest like a shadow slipping out of the night. The despair that once dimmed his expression had been replaced with the flickering embers of a growing rage, and the Wolf-Kissed could almost see sparks igniting in his eyes.

As for the young man himself, he simply followed the prince from a distance and trailed along quietly, unsure of what else he could do to comfort his lover. A few of the villagers -- including Styrbjorn -- had turned their heads upon Sigurd’s anticipated return, and immediately brought their attention to the blood now staining his hand.

The color faded from the king’s flesh as soon as he noticed the striking pigment. He didn’t seem to understand what had transpired just yet, but the dreary cloud hanging over his son was enough to imply that something terrible had unraveled.

Styrbjorn approached the two of them, carrying a look of concern.

“My son...!” He called out, keeping his tone hushed. “Where have you been? What’s happened to you? Whose... whose blood is that?”

Sigurd exchanged glances with his companion, hesitant to answer. He didn’t appear to be any calmer than when Eivor first found him in the woods, and the younger man feared that it wouldn’t take much more to send him into a storm. 

“It’s... Dag’s.” The prince admitted. “...I killed him.”

The older man fell into silence, taken aback by his son’s actions.

“You did what?”

“I had to,” Sigurd justified, steeling his voice. “Dag was the traitor. I had to get rid of him before he did anything else. I couldn’t allow him to harm more people.”

“A traitor?” Styrbjorn repeated in disbelief. “Are you positive? What makes you so certain he betrayed us? Did you find any evidence?”

“He confessed his crimes, father. He told me everything. Dag was the one assisting Kjotve. He was the one who informed him of our alliance. Ulfar was right.”

The king didn’t seem convinced. “I see. And was there anyone else around to hear Dag’s confession?”

“...No. It was just me and him.”

Styrbjorn shook his head in disapproval. “Then how can we be so sure that you killed the right man?”

Sigurd stared at his father in bewilderment, finally catching on to the man’s concerns. “...You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, son. But other people may not -- and for good reason, I might add. You just killed one of our own clan members because of a confession that nobody was around to hear. Nobody except for you. How can I accept that as evidence? How am I going to explain Dag’s death to our people? How can I convince them that what you did was not, in fact, murder?”

Sadly, Sigurd was in no state to process things rationally. The king’s doubt only added more fuel to the anguish that was already festering inside him, and his temper quickly took over like a hurricane commanding the seas.

“You can explain to them that I just killed the man responsible for Thora’s death! I killed the man who would’ve thrown the rest of us to the wolves. Had it not been for that rat, this village would still be in one piece. Thora would still be alive. I killed him because it was necessary.”

Styrbjorn was quiet in response, urging Sigurd to fill the silence.

“You think I murdered him out of indulgence? You know how much I loved him, father. He was my brother! I didn’t want to see him dead. But I did what was required to keep our clan safe. I finished what Ulfar started.”

But the king had nothing else to offer other than criticism. “You acted carelessly, Sigurd. There is no honor in slaying a man who cannot defend himself. You know this. If you truly believed Dag was the traitor, you should’ve brought him to me -- not slaughtered him in the woods. I could’ve held a trial to determine his judgement. His crimes would’ve been brought to light.”

“You think we have the time for something like that? Dag may have been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool. If there really was any evidence to find of his collusion with Kjotve, he would’ve destroyed it. We’d be investigating for weeks, if not months!”

“And what if there is evidence? What if we discover that Dag was not the only traitor in our midst? What will we do then, hm?”

Sigurd grew irritated. “We’ll deal with it. Just like I dealt with Dag.”

Styrbjorn sighed in defeat. “You rely too much on impulse, my son. You cannot take matters into your own hands like this. If you are to wear the crown someday, you must learn to respect the ways of our kingdom. A good leader enforces the law with a firm hand, but is never above it.”

The prince didn’t take kindly to that. “You are the last person to dictate what makes a good leader. While I’ve been fighting alongside our warriors on the battlefield, risking my life, you’ve been idling with a bottle in your hand, watching everything unfold! You say I’m reckless, but who else is going to defend your kingdom if not you?”

The older man turned away in shame, causing his son to descend even further into his tirade.

“Killing Dag was the only way to proceed, father. I wouldn’t have done it if I had any other options, but we are at a dead-end here. You don’t want me to act like this? Then you can swing the axe yourself next time!”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Sigurd cut himself off and took a moment to glance at his surroundings, suddenly realizing just how much attention he had drawn to their argument. Everywhere around him, men and women alike gawked at their altercation with a blatant sense of fear in their eyes, alarmed by everything they just heard. Not a single word was uttered amongst the small crowd that had gathered around them, and yet, it felt as if their very thoughts lingered in the air.

Looking at his father, Sigurd stepped away from the other man and slunk to Eivor’s side, backing down as if he were shocked by his own behavior. He appeared to be even more devoid of life now that he had argued with Styrbjorn, and within moments, he was desperately searching for a way out.

“I... I need to be alone.”

In the blink of an eye, Sigurd removed himself from the vicinity and retreated to the longhouse, aching for the solitude of his chambers. He left Styrbjorn and Eivor with nothing more than the company of their own thoughts, and disappeared as if he were smoke being whisked away by the wind.

In the meantime, the two men simply watched the prince vanish in the distance as the crowd began to disperse, granting them the luxury of privacy they so fervently desired. A portion of them already felt somewhat sheepish due to announcing their troubles to the public, and frankly, the only thing Eivor wanted was to lock himself in his room.

Unfortunately for the young man though, Styrbjorn didn’t seem ready to let him go just yet.

“Oh, Sigurd...” the king muttered to himself. “When will that boy learn...?”

Eivor approached the conflicted man, attempting to calm his nerves.

“Forgive him, my lord.” He pleaded. “Grief has befallen Sigurd. He made a great sacrifice for us today, cutting down his own friend like that. It will take him a long time to recover from this.”

Styrbjorn pinched the bridge of his nose out of stress, pacing back and forth in the snow.

“I understand that my son was only trying to protect our clan, but I must ensure he’s prepared to inherit the throne. We are at war, Eivor. There’s no guarantee I’ll be around by the time Kjotve is vanquished. The dawn of Sigurd’s reign could arrive sooner than he expects. He must be ready.”

“He is ready,” The Wolf-Kissed reassured. “He just needs time to heal.”

The king halted in his tracks and glanced at the younger man, inquiring about one other matter.

“Listen, Eivor. I hate to ask you of this considering everything that’s going on, but could you speak to Sigurd for me? I’d feel better knowing he wasn’t dealing with this alone.”

Eivor raised a brow. “Me? Why not you?”

“You’ve witnessed firsthand the animosity that stands between me and my son. Very rarely does Sigurd ever greet me with a smile. Whenever we’re together, it always feels like he’s angry at me, or frustrated. And the worst part is... I can’t even say he’s completely unjustified.”

“What do you mean?”

Styrbjorn sighed regretfully, dropping his gaze to the ground. There was a clear rein of hesitancy holding him back, but he knew that in order to help his son the best, he’d need to offer his full candor. 

“Perhaps he’s already told you this, but... ever since Sigurd’s mother passed away, I’ve found myself continuously drawn to the allure of drink. It’s something that’s haunted me for years now. I’ve tried many times to put down the bottle, but in the end, it always ends up trapping me in its clutches. I’m not proud to admit it, but it’s the truth.”

Eivor nodded in remembrance. “Sigurd has told me about this, yes.”

“I’m not surprised. He often speaks fondly of you. It’s clear you’ve gained my son’s unwavering trust. Unfortunately however, I cannot say the same for myself. My relationship with Sigurd has suffered due to my addiction. I have not always been the father he deserves, nor given him the guidance that he needed.”

The king’s stone facade faltered briefly. “It breaks my heart to consider it, but I fear that my own son views me as a nuisance more than anything. A lingering shackle that keeps holding him back. Sometimes I even wonder if the boy hates me.”

The young man’s expression softened with sympathy. “...No, Styrbjorn. No. He  doesn’t hate you. Even Sigurd himself has told me that he loves you. He just feels ignored.”

That caught Styrbjorn’s attention. “Ignored?”

“Yes. The last time he and I spoke about this issue, he expressed that he often feels like you don’t heed his advice; that his words tend to fall on deaf ears. Sigurd wants to help you overcome this, but he says you won’t let him.”

“It’s... true that I haven’t always kept my promises. I cannot deny that. But this battle is not so easily won.”

Eivor gave him an understanding look. “And Sigurd is aware of that. He knows you won’t be able to discard this overnight. But he just needs to see that you’re making some kind of effort. That will be more than enough for him. Trust me.”

Styrbjorn took the man’s advice to heart and quietly thought to himself for a moment, evidently shaken by this revelation. It was clear that a part of him drowned in guilt due to the discovery of Sigurd’s frustrations, but a hint of relief also twinkled in his eye now that he knew the boy still loved him.

“...I see.” The king said sincerely, gazing at the young man with an immense amount of gratitude. “Thank you for telling me this, Eivor. The path to reconciliation will be one laden with difficulties, but at least I can see where I must go. I will think on what you’ve said, and I’ll speak to Sigurd when the moment is right. In the meantime, could you talk to him for now? I fear that my presence would only amplify his anger.”

“Of course,” Eivor said with a firm nod. “I’ll check on him for you.”

“I appreciate it. Stay safe, my boy. Our struggles are far from over. I pray that the gods will extend their mercy to you from now on, and that you recover quickly from today’s tragedies. Peace is a distant reality for us at the moment, but not unreachable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE LONGHOUSE

SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Wandering through the longhouse’s dimly lit halls, Eivor followed the trail of torches as he made his way to Sigurd’s chambers, overwhelmed by the looming silence that was broken only by his footsteps.

The adamant walls of the building had blocked out any intrusive sounds --  including that of the howling wind -- and as a result, nothing but the low crackling of fire was present to accompany the thoughts screaming in Eivor’s head.

He just didn’t know how to feel anymore. When he first discovered Thora’s body, the agony that overcame him was so fierce it almost crippled him entirely. He felt like the gods had ripped a hole in the very fabric of the world, and the impact of Ulfar’s death only pressed harder on the weight that was already resting on his shoulders.

Still, he couldn’t imagine what Sigurd was experiencing. Even though Eivor was no stranger to the atrocities of war, he had never been cursed with the responsibility of striking down his own brother. The mere idea of putting himself in the same position with Randvi was enough to crush him, and he worried that the guilt would twist the prince’s spirit into something much darker. He just hoped he could help the man before it was too late.

“...Sigurd?” The Wolf-Kissed said gently, knocking on the surface of his door. “It’s me, Eivor. Can I come in?”

A soft rustle emitted from the inside, followed up by the muffled thuds of Sigurd’s boots. The door swung open after a few moments, and standing in front of him, Eivor saw the prince, looking somber as ever.

“Eivor...?” He whispered, still afflicted by the ordeal with Dag. “You’re here?”

“Yes. I know you said you wished to be alone, but... I was worried. You disappeared from our sight before we could even get a word in. I wanted to check on you. I hope I’m not intruding.” The younger man paused for a second. “...How are you feeling now?”

Sigurd’s gaze fell to the floor. “I... I don’t know, Eivor.” His posture slouched in remorse. “...I’m not doing well.”

“Of course not,” Eivor said in understanding. “Dag was like a brother to you. No one could do what you did and come out unscathed.”

The prince scoffed. “No one except for my father, apparently.” He turned away from the door and stepped aside, allowing Eivor to come in as he spoke. “Can you believe that man? We are this close to winning the war against Kjotve, and he’s more concerned about due process.”

Eivor followed Sigurd into his chambers, closing the door behind them.

“Your father just wants to make sure you’re ready to rule the kingdom.”

“Well, there won’t be a kingdom to rule if we don’t catch Kjotve soon enough. My father says I’m careless in my behavior, but I don’t recall the last time I saw him lifting a sword. What else does he expect me to do?” 

Sigurd took a seat on the edge of his bed and sighed, completely drained of all vigor. “...I know I’m not perfect, Eivor. I know I still have much to learn. But everything I do is for the betterment of this clan. Why can’t my father see that?”

Eivor sat beside his lover, placing a comforting hand on his back. “He does see it. He may not be the best at getting his message across, but trust me when I say your father knows you have good intentions. He just worries that you’ll act with too much haste.”

The prince’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “Is that so? And what makes you so certain of that?”

“He and I talked after you left,” the younger man admitted. “He wanted to speak with you personally, but he thought that his company would only aggravate you more.” Eivor frowned in empathy. “...Your father thinks you hate him, Sigurd.”

Sigurd’s entire mood seemed to shift at the response, and for a split-second, it almost looked like he had completely forgotten about the rage he harbored. 

“He does...?”

“Well, he suspects it,” Eivor clarified, “but he said that things are always tense between you two. There never seems to be a moment of peace whenever you’re together.”

The prince shook his head, eager to dispel his beliefs.

“...No,” he said softly. “No. I don’t hate him. I love my father, in fact. I just hate the things he does sometimes.” Sigurd leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I want to keep him safe like I promised my mother I would. It brings me no joy to see him endure any pain or hardship, but...” he let out a breath of frustration, “...he never listens to me! Whenever I try to help him, he only pushes me away. Once, I even dumped all our ale into the river to stop him from drinking, and he broke into a fury unlike anything I’d ever seen.”

A grip of fear took hold of Sigurd’s voice. “...That stuff is poison, Eivor. It’s going to kill him someday. The last thing I want is to see my father step into an early grave, but how am I supposed to help him when he won’t even help himself?”

Eivor brought his partner into a hug, allowing his chin to sit on the man’s shoulder.

“You need to be more patient, Sigurd,” he advised. “Ultimately, your father’s recovery is his own responsibility, but a hostile relationship won’t do anything for either of you. He’s still trying to move on from your mother’s death. Just like you’re trying to move on from Dag’s. Give him time.”

The prince let out a sigh and warmed up to Eivor’s embrace, finally cooling off from the heat of his argument with Styrbjorn.

“I... I suppose you’re right.” He conceded, turning to face the younger man. “...Okay, Eivor. I’ll try to make things right. Not just for my father, but also for you. I promise.”

Eivor smiled at that. “Good. It won’t be easy, I know. But it’ll be worth it.”

Sigurd sat up from his position and laid a hand on the Wolf-Kissed’s lap, diverting the focus of their conversation elsewhere.

“Anyway, enough about me. How are you doing, my love? I’m... so sorry about Thora and Ulfar.”

Eivor separated their hug and stared bleakly at the floor, trying to keep himself together.

“...I still can’t believe they’re gone,” he said. “I thought I’d be used to losing people like this after what happened to my parents, but it hurts just as much as it did all those years ago. Only this time, I feel like I could’ve done something. I wish I did.”

A tinge of regret blanketed Sigurd’s face. “Are you angry that I held you back during the holmgang?”

“No,” Eivor answered truthfully. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. You were only trying to preserve Ulfar’s honor, and to be honest, I’m grateful that you did. As much as I wish I could’ve saved that man, I’d feel even worse if he never reached Valhalla. I’m going to miss him more than words can describe, but at least I know he’s at peace now. At least I know he’s reunited with his wife.” A cloud of sorrow fogged the young man’s eyes. “...I just wish I could say the same for Thora.”

Sigurd’s nose crinkled at the memory of discovering Thora’s body. “Gorm is even more of a coward than his father. It’s a shame what he did to her. He will get the punishment he deserves, Eivor. I won’t let him get away with it.”

The Wolf-Kissed found some solace in the prince’s reassurance. “Thank you. I know there’s nothing I can do to bring Thora back, but it seems only fitting that the man who murdered her joins her side in Helheim.”

“And he will. One way or another.”

Standing up from the bed, Eivor straightened his tunic and inched towards the door, preparing to take his leave. He didn’t want to abandon Sigurd’s side just yet, but he also wanted to see how his family was coping before the day came to an end.

“Anyway, I’ll give you some space, Sigurd.” He said, pressing a hand against the door’s surface. “I imagine you probably want to be alone right now, and there are some things I need to take care of before the funeral starts.”

Contrary to his belief however, the prince didn’t seem to share his sentiments. “Actually, I’d like you to stick around a little longer. If you’re willing to stay, that is.”

Eivor halted mid-action, unable to hide his interest. “You would?”

“Your company is one of the few things that offers me peace nowadays, Eivor. If you want to take this conversation further, you’re more than welcome here.”

The blonde viking took a hesitant glance outside the door, still carrying the same concerns he had lugged around for the past two weeks.

“But what if someone finds us? Don’t you think it’ll strike them as odd that I’ve been with you for so long?”

Sigurd let out a fatigued breath, slowly rising from his bed. “...I don’t care anymore. All this death sitting on our doorstep has shown me just how precious life truly is. I have no idea if I’ll even survive this war, Eivor. I’m not going to spend what could possibly be my final days pretending that I don’t feel anything for you.”

He walked up to his companion, leaving no more than a few inches between them. “I love you, Eivor. And I’m not ashamed to say it.”

Eivor froze at the confession and simply stared at Sigurd in silence, entirely at a loss for words. It wasn’t too long ago that the prince nearly tore himself apart trying to keep their affair a secret, and yet, he was practically declaring his love from the top of the world now. He no longer cared about the rumors that would spread, or the judgmental glances he’d receive. He was finally done hiding, and Eivor wondered if it was time he felt the same.

“Forgive me,” the younger man replied, “I... I don’t know what to say. I just never expected to hear you say those words.”

Sigurd chuckled. “Neither did I. I used to berate myself without pause when I first realized I was growing attached to you. I tried so desperately to shift my attention to Randvi for the sake of this alliance, but... it never worked. Things only deteriorated for me, and as a result, my life turned into a never-ending battle. I was miserable.”

Eivor smirked affectionately. “And now?”

Sigurd returned the grin. “Now, I know what I want at last. I can finally see why the gods led me here, and I’m done pushing against this fate that the Nornir have woven for me. I’m done with living a lie. My only question is... do you feel the same?”

The Wolf-Kissed let his hand drop from the door and focused completely on the man in front of him, peering fondly into his eyes.

“Of course I do. You’ve always been there for me ever since you first arrived at Bjornheimr. The circumstances under which we had to meet will forever leave a scar on this clan, but I can say for certain that our encounter was a blessing.” Eivor beamed brightly at the prince, holding his cheek in his palm. “I love you too, Sigurd. And nothing will ever change that.”

Sigurd’s expression radiated with a vibrant joy upon hearing that, and he pulled Eivor even closer to him, gently pushing him against the wall. He pecked a small kiss on the younger man’s neck and held him securely by the waist, allowing himself to forget about his troubles for just a brief moment.

“Then let us cast away the burdens of our struggles for tonight, and cherish our final hours of peace together. The stability of this war is precarious enough as it is. If anything happens to us, I don’t want to leave this world with regrets. Freya gave you to me as a gift the day we met, and I don’t intend to waste it.”

Eivor closed his eyes in bliss and linked his arms around Sigurd, caressing him in his embrace. The prince’s touch soothed his skin like ice on a fresh burn, and for the first time in a while, he was able to let his mind roam free from its continuous torment. The bond they shared was something that provided Eivor with a tranquility unlike anything else, and he silently begged the gods to keep his lover safe.

“From here to Valhalla,” Eivor whispered warmly, “I’ll always be at your side, Sigurd.”