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annabawritersdream · 19 days ago

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TOLKIEN OC WEEK- Day 4

Prompt: Gaps and Ghosts

Title: A Daughter's Plea.

Canon Characters: (King) Aragorn Elessar; Crown Prince Eldarion (mentioned)

Original Characters=> Princess Gilraen of the Reunited Kingdom

Estella (Gilraen's governess)

Imrolas (Lord Chancellor/Aragorn's private secretary)

Lord Daerion (Eldarion's tutor),

Lady "Aunt" Mörwen (Aragorn's cousin; mentioned)

CW: Mature themes, arranged marriage, somewhat graphic description of attempted s***ide.

Synopsys: King Elessar has decided his eldest (for now only) daughter, Princess Gilraen, is ready for marriage. Unfortunately, the young royal is not at all pleased with her betrothed.

Word Count: (AO3 stats=> 9,776 words)

Also posted on AO3! (Chapter 2; day 4)

It contains major spoilers for my main WIP The Lady of Ithilien (link to be found in my general masterlist)

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

To know more about my OCs, please check my character profiles on Tumblr. (@annabawritersdream)

More information on Gilraen:

She is the second child of High King Aragorn Elessar and Queen Arwen. Born in FoA 3, she has one older brother (Eldarion, born FoA 1) and two younger sisters, Lóthuil (born FoA 16) and Meleril (born FoA 19).

GLOSSARY (SINDARIN)

Guren vell: (my) sweetheart

Ada: dad

A Daughter's Plea

Minas Tirith, FoA 15.

“What do you think, Estella?”

“I daresay you look splendid, Madam. Absolutely ravishing.”

Gilraen stood in front of the mirror and improvised a twirl.

“If I am not mistaken, that was also your opinion concerning all the other dresses that were brought in.”

“Forgive me, Madam, but there is no denying that they are all exquisite and befitting of the only daughter of our gracious King Elessar. Though I must say that, out of all the dresses the Lady Mörwen has gifted you, this may probably be that which I would be most inclined to wear. It is a magnificent creation, but I would expect no less from the clothiers of Dol Amroth. Their skill is said to be unparalleled. If I may, Madam, I also would like to remark on the dress’ subtle, understated details. I usually do not find golden motives to be aesthetically pleasing as I often find them redundant and inelegant, yet the embroideries along the cuffs are admittedly flawless.”

“It truly is beautiful. Yet I do not think I shall wear it on a regular occurrence.”

“Why is that?”

“As magnificent as it is, I do not feel comfortable in it. It is much too elaborate for my taste.”

“What would you wear then, Madam?”

“I think my blue dress will do.”

Estella sighed and rolled her eyes. “My lady…”

“What is wrong with it? It was also a gift from aunt Mörwen and there is no denying that…”

“It is old and tattered, Madam. Surely you would not want to appear before your Lord Father and your Lady Mother in those rags.”

“Do you think my mother and father would even notice? My brother is all they think about. He is all they care about. Their precious firstborn child, the heir to the House of Telcontar. They barely acknowledge my presence these days, Estella. I always knew I never mattered and, though it hurts me deeply, I am glad they finally came to terms with it. No more lying, no more hypocrisy on their part. No more pretending.”

“Madam, if I may…”

“No, Estella. I know exactly what you are about to say, and it is simply not true. My mother never loved me. One would think that the daughter of the bearer of Vilya, the last descendant of a long line of mighty Elven lords and powerful ladies, the Evenstar of her people and the most beautiful maiden to currently walk the earth would be wise not to favor one child above the other.”

“Your Lord Father…”

“The King still thinks of me as a child. He does not value my opinions, nor does he ever asks for them. To him, I am merely a pawn, a thing of no value.”

“Do not say that I pray you. The Allfather knows our King loves you very much, Madam.”

“Would he constantly dismiss my feelings if he did? Would he avoid speaking to me?”

“Perhaps he fails to show it properly, but he does care for you.”

“That day…the day I took an arrow which was clearly meant for him…all I wanted was…”

She sighed as her voice trailed off. “When the arrow hit me and my father held me in his arms, I...”

She gulped. “I was overjoyed that he had finally acknowledged me, that he had seen me. Though my vision was fading, I mustered all my remaining strength and proudly looked upon him…”

“My lady…”

“Tears were streaming down his face. I remember thinking that maybe I had finally accomplished something worth of my status as a princess. I had succeeded in protecting him; something at which the guards of the Grey Company had failed. All of those guards clad in the most magnificent armor, war-hardened soldiers trained by excellent sword masters to protect and defend their Liege-Lord. Yet, none of them had noticed the arrow coming toward the procession. No one noticed it but me. A girl who was not even supposed to be there. Eldarion did not see it, Captain Halboron was not able to spot it either. I did and I jumped before him. I was told it was a Haradrim dart.”

“Haradrim? From Harad?”

“It was laced with poison.”

Estella hugged the princess tightly. “I still cannot fathom you could have died. What would I do without you? My sweet lady, my beautiful little girl. I hope you will pardon my impudence, but…I happen to care for you as if you were one of my own. I had two wonderful boys once. Two boys and a little girl who looked like you. Though no Elven blood ran through her veins, she did indeed have a fair complexion and bright gray eyes similar to yours.”

“Did she…”

“She died of illness as an infant.” She sighed and a rueful smile appeared on her face as she caressed the princess’ cheek. “My boys died too, though the circumstances of their early demise were fairly different.”

“Do you feel comfortable enough to tell me about their deaths? I would never wish to cause you unnecessary pain and I would like to apologize in advance for shamelessly asking you to share such personal details. I have now just realized that I know very little about you. For instance, I was not aware you were married. Is your husband…”

“Sadly, it has been many years since my husband traveled beyond the Circles of the World. Shattered by our daughter’s untimely passing, he resorted to alcohol to numb his pain. The man I had married, the man I had loved with every fiber of my being slowly wasted away, drowning his sorrow in ale and wine. So much wine. He would refuse to eat, and he would not sleep, neglecting his marital duties. He was no longer interested in his craft, in his sculptures, in his books, in his children. All that that he had enjoyed prior to our baby girl’s demise had suddenly lost its appeal. I watched him wither and shrink, the spark in his eyes replaced by thick veil of despair none of us seemed to be able to pierce. His now perennially glazed eyes had turned imperious and cold, his face unrecognizable. Though he had showered my boys with a copious amount of affection, the love he felt for his daughter was unparalleled. He was perhaps the only man within the walls of this city to value a girl over his male heirs.”

“The world is in dire need of such people, I reckon,” the princess replied as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Though I do not think I am more valuable than my brother, I certainly do believe I am no less important than him. I wish my mother and father would agree.”

She held onto Estella. “I am so sorry for your loss. Though we fail to communicate most of the time, I know I could not bear it if either one of my parents died. Though I cannot stand him on most occasions, I would be devastated if something happened to my brother. Were I on my deathbed, I suppose he would not shed a single tear.”

“You may not believe it, Madam, but he was rather shaken following the accident.”

“Of course he was. Although Father was the main target, he too could have been hit. You know how much of a coward my brother is. Young children are braver than he is. I am surprised he did not have someone help him escape as soon as the arrow was released.”

“He is the Crown Prince and your father’s only heir. His survival is vital to the kingdom and I have no doubt that some people at court—influential nobles holding grudges against your father for whatever reason—who may be plotting his downfall as we speak. They have already tried killing the King, how do you know they will not attempt at your brother’s life as well? I am sure he, too, knows that it is a very likely outcome. He has a right to be scared.”

“I am certain no one from Gondor is to blame. As long as he does not leave the capital—or the kingdom for that matter—he is safe.”

“Is he?”

“No one would dare attack the Prince.”

“You prevented your father’s assassination.”

“I did indeed.”

She glanced at Estella. “No one in Gondor would purposely hurt my brother. Our people would never do such a thing. Are you perhaps trying to suggest otherwise?”

“I do not know, Madam. I thought the King could not be harmed. If you had not…”

“Please do not speak of it. We all know what could have happened and we should be thankful it did not come to pass. The mere thought of attending my father’s funeral…”

She cleared her throat as she pushed back tears. “Eldarion is much too young to ascend the throne now. He cannot sit on it, Estella. He would run the Reunited Kingdom into the ground and destroy the legacy of our House. He has no supporters, no one to guide him, no one to advise him. Those Haradrim traitors would certainly seize an opportunity and attack the city at once. Minas Tirith and its people would be annihilated. Our heritage, our culture, the traditions of our mighty ancestors…all would be lost. Gondor would cease to exist and with it the remnants of the greatest civilization of Middle-earth too would fall into oblivion.” She gulped and nervously rubbed her fingers. “I love my brother dearly, but he must not be permitted to rule until he shows he has acquired some wisdom and common sense.”

“He is still so very young, Madam. He has got time still.”

“His behavior is deeply concerning. Mother and Father refuse to acknowledge it simply because he is the heir to the House of Telcontar. He is immature, entitled…and vicious. I pity the woman he will marry.”

“I beg to differ. The lady Elenna seems quite content with the arrangement.”

“The Lady Elenna…”

The princess sighed and shook her head. “She is scared, Estella. I can see it in her eyes. That poor girl has never been happy. I have seen how my brother treats her…his attitude towards her…”

“Our prince certainly would not harm her, Madam.”

“He would. He would and he already did. I saw him. He slapped her because she would not give in to his demands.”

“Are you certain, Madam? Perhaps the Lady Elenna was talking to somebody else; someone that you mistook for your brother.”

“Do you not believe me, Estella?”

“I have never said that, my lady. But I find it hard to…”

“You do not believe me. Do you think I would purposely lie and slander the Crown Prince? Do you think I would speak if I was not beyond certain of what I saw and heard?”

“If I ever implied it, then I apologize.”

“I firmly believe the people would never harm him. They cherish him, but that is only because they are unaware of his true character. I am afraid they will indeed try and hurt him once they find out who he really is, how he acts behind closed doors. They seem to adore him and how could I blame them? He is handsome, the fairest prince of Men to ever walk Middle-earth since the Elder Days. He knows how to approach people; he is gallant and kind when the situation requires it. He is a charmer. He possesses good qualities, and it is undeniable that he knows how to use them to his advantage. He has mastered the art of deception.”

“I do understand your concerns, Madam, and I partly agree with you, yet…it seems to me you are trying to portray your bother as sort of Dark Lord.”

“Is it not accurate though? He knows how to manipulate people. Whatever he wants, he takes. No one questions him. He believes he is control of his actions, but he does not realize others are pulling the strings behind his back, namely that horrid tutor of his.”

“Lord Daerion? He is always so courteous and…”

“He is hiding something, Estella. I can feel it. He should not be allowed to be around my brother. His whereabouts are unknown, he has no family, no friends…we do not even know where he lives. How can we trust such a secretive individual? How has he been allowed to become the Crown Prince’s only confidant? A man with no position…”

“He did serve under Lord Denethor, Madam. The late Steward took him in when he was allegedly abandoned by his parents as a young child. He was then raised as a proper lord.”

“From all accounts, the deceased Steward was a repulsive excuse of a ruler and an abhorrent father to Lord Faramir. I have no doubt that Daerion is more of the same. I was right to distrust him.”

“I do not doubt your intuition, but, if I may, I have a suggestion I should like you to consider.”

“What is it?”

“Let go of prejudice.”

The princess frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It seems to me you are blinded by preconceived notions. The Lord Denethor was indeed a troubled individual, but he did have a difficult past and was forced to endure a great deal of pain. Perhaps doting on Lord Daerion was a way to reconnect with his old self, with the man he had been before he was struck by pain and tragedy. He saved an innocent child from misfortune and showered him with love and attention. What would have been of Lord Daerion had the late Steward not provided him with an adequate livelihood? He most certainly would have perished.”

“Could he not show the same love and care to his son?”

“You speak of things you do not know, my lady.”

“Many contemporaries of the Lord Denethor still dwell within these halls, Estella. Even his staunchest supporters and closest allies have confirmed that our current Steward was treated less than favorably by his sire. Some of those lords immediately swore fealty to the Prince of Ithilien following my father’s accession as they were outraged by the unfair treatment previously suffered by Lord Faramir. They wished to make amends for not protecting him when they should have. They knelt before him and begged for mercy, which was granted to them.” She sighed. “I admire Lord Faramir. He is knowledgeable and quick-witted. I wish my brother had turned to him for counsel. It would have benefited him greatly and he would now be maturing into the valiant prince he tricked the people into thinking he is. As far as I know, Lord Faramir had offered to tutor my brother, but Eldarion turned him down for Daerion.”

She paused. “It is not hard to imagine why he would do such a thing. It is no secret that my bother loves being coddled. Only Eru knows what that vile snake told him. My brother may be able to manipulate others, but he is manipulated just as easily. He is persuaded that Daerion cares for him, but it is apparent that Daerion is only interested in his reputation. That is all he cares about. I am certain he has spies and informants lingering about. He craves power, I can see it in his eyes. He craves power and would do anything to…”

She exhaled.” It is inevitable for me not to think ill of someone who was reared by a heartless madman.”

“Do you know him well enough? I think not. You should not be making assumptions, my lady. It is impolite and, if he truly is the sort of man, you are so adamantly describing, it could very dangerous if your words were overheard.”

“The Prince and the King must be protected.”

“They have the best protection available in all the lands of Men, as it is their right. The Grey Company…”

“The Grey Company failed to ensure their safety. My father only survived because of me.”

Her eyes rested on her governess’ face.

“Estella.”

“What is it, Madam?”

“I think…”

She pursed her lips. “I believe you were right. It all makes sense.”

“Madam, I am not following.”

“You said it before. You said it yourself, remember?”

“I beg your pardon, my lady, but I do not know what you are talking about. Perhaps if you would be so kind to provide some context…”

“You mentioned how there were no Haradrim at the parade.”

“That is correct. I did say that.”

“It only means the attacker was a Gondorian. You were right. Of course you were. No Rohirrim and no Haradrim attended the parade, after all.”

“Perhaps someone from Harad infiltrated the crowd and managed to…”

“They would have been caught, Estella. People from Harad have somewhat of a…distinctive appearance. They would never wear Gondorian garments, which makes them easily detectable.”

“We cannot know whether…”

“Why are you retracting your statement? I understand that you probably did not mean it. Perhaps you intended it to be a joke, a careless remark. But it is an entirely possible scenario, if not the most likely to have occurred.”

“You truly believe that…”

“It is my opinion that someone dwelling within our borders orchestrated an assassination attempt on my father. Perhaps they were also planning to murder my brother.”

“And I suppose you firmly believe that someone to be Lord Daerion, is that right?”

“I do.”

“It is not my place to argue with you, Madam, but…”

“Why are you defending him? Why are you trying to make excuses for him? Are you one of his mistresses?”

“Of course not!”

“You said it yourself, Estella. How can you not understand? Someone from Gondor was behind the attempt on my father’s life,” the Princess insisted. “Someone who knows our family well, someone who has access to my father’s inner circle. Someone my father trusts.”

“Your father has surrounded himself with many capable statesmen. Why are so you keen on accusing Lord Daerion? He’s your brother’s tutor and confidant. Why would he harm the King? He cares for Prince Eldarion as if he were his own son and every little thing he does is for his happiness and better comfort.”

“You are so blinded, Estella. For Eru’s sake, WAKE UP! You had an affair with him, there is no other explanation.”

“Madam, I…”

Estella was interrupted by a loud bang followed by a thud. A young man was on the floor, the wooden tray he has been carrying also on the ground. Estella frowned and rolled her eyes.

“Imrolas.”

He immediately stood up, picking up the tray. “Forgive me. I did not mean to barge in this unseemly fashion. I tripped and…”

“To what do we owe the grand entrance?”

“I…”

“We do not have all day, Imrolas! Place the tray anywhere you like and bow to the Princess. And do clean up this mess! Whatever was in the cup that so very unceremoniously shattered on the floor happened to spill all over the rug!”

“I had boiled some milk for the Princess…”

“She is no longer five years old! Why would you do such a thing?”

“She usually has it with sugar and vanilla extract…it is her favorite drink…”

“Do you have anything to say? Or have you come here just to be a bother?”

Imrolas bowed his head. “I was sent by King Elessar. He wishes to speak to his daughter at once.”

“You could have said it much earlier. I suppose the cleaning can be postponed. Has our gracious King mentioned…”

Imrolas turned to the Princess. “He has decided to marry you off, Madam. He is waiting for you in his study.”

He glanced at Estella. “I was not going to clean it anyway. You may do it yourself. You are the head of the Princess’ household, and it is one of your many duties. I shall tend to mine. I may be clumsy, and I may be carefree, but I deserve to be valued and respected. You cannot talk to me that way. I do not answer to you and I owe you nothing. I was sent here to deliver a message, and I thought the Princess might enjoy a glass of milk. That is all.”

He placed the tray on a nearby table and bowed to the Princess. She was staring at him in anguish. “Marry? I have to…. marry?” she asked. “It cannot be, Imrolas. Why would my father…”

“It is the King’s decision, my lady. I am only his secretary, there is nothing I can do about it. I was tasked with bringing you the news and I had to comply.”

“NO! I do not want this!”

“If you please, Madam, I shall escort you to…”

“NO!” she cried. “Estella…say something. Speak to him. Speak to the King, I don’t want to marry. I am not ready, I don’t…”

“Who am I do so, my lady? Perhaps you will grow to love your husband. Maybe it will be love at first sight. I am sure…”

“I do not want to be wed, Estella! Why is no one listening to me!?”

The Princess rushed to Imrolas and hugged him. “Who am I marrying? You have seen him, am I right? You have, Imrolas, I know you have! Please tell me…”

“I am not allowed to say anything.”

“Imrolas, please. I don’t trust my father on such matters. I love him dearly, but I…”

“Come, my lady. We should not have him wait.”

She clung to him. “I have a bad feeling, Imrolas. I am scared. I would rather stay here.”

“You must not be afraid.”

“Why do I see pity in your eyes? What is going on? Who is my betrothed? Tell me his name. I am certain that my father told you who I am marrying. He informed you about it. Please, Imrolas. I beg you…do tell me. Say it.”

“Come with me. You shall see for yourself once he joins you and your gracious father.”

Estella and Imrolas had to forcibly drag her out of her chambers, the young royal protesting and hollering for an explanation.

“Behave, my lady.”

“Behave? Are you seriously asking me to…behave?”

“I am, my lady. Your screams will be heard by the whole court. Is this what you want?”

“If you think I am interested in the opinion of servile courtiers and in that of silly ladies whose only purpose is…”

“You will follow us and…”

“I do not intend to leave my chambers.”

Imrolas glanced at her. “My Princess, I beg you…”

“I will not change my mind. I am staying here.”

“Please, my lady, do not…”

Imrolas trailed off and gasped as Estella and picked up the Princess, tossing her unceremoniously over her shoulder and placing a hand over her mouth. “I have not done this since you were a toddler,” she complained. “Albeit disgraceful, it is somehow more dignified than the horrid spectacle you are currently making of yourself.”

All the Princess could do was mumble and stare at Imrolas, who was himself bewildered.

“What are you doing, Mistress Estella? Is this the proper way to treat a princess?”

“If she insists on acting like a spoiled toddler who will not listen to reason, then yes, my Lord Secretary of the King. It is.”

“And you truly believe that carrying her as if she were a potato bag will be helpful in bringing her back to her senses about a marriage to which she clearly does not consent?

“I raised her myself, Imrolas.”

“I understand, Estella. Yet I fail to see…”

“I know what I am doing.”

“I think you could try and persuade the King to reconsider his decision. Is it not what the Princess asked of you?”

“Why do you not do it, Master Secretary? You may have a better chance of succeeding. Our Liege trusts you and confides in you. You spend more time with him than anybody in this court. Surely putting in a word would not be too difficult for you, would it?”

“I am only a secretary. It is not my place to criticize our Liege-lord.”

“It is not mine either. I am only the Princess’ governess.”

“Well, what can we do then?”

“We are servants, Imrolas. Servants obey and keep their opinions to themselves. They keep quiet and do as their lord commands. That means there is virtually nothing we can do.”

“I thought that maybe you…”

“I oversaw the Princess’ education, that is true. I taught her how to walk and how to dress. I devoted myself to her upbringing. That does not mean I can change the King’s mind. No one can.”

“Perhaps we could speak to the Queen…”

“Be reasonable, Imrolas. Be reasonable.”

“I simply suggested…”

“It is a foolish suggestion! Do you seriously think we could go to the Queen and ask her to intercede on our behalf? Have you become a complete half-wit?”

“What would happen? We could ask for an audience…”

“And say what?! Our esteemed Princess does not wish to wed?”

“Y…yes? Is that not the truth?”

He glanced at her. “She does not seem at all pleased with it.”

“That is only because I am carrying her as if she were a potato bag as you rightly pointed out.”

“You could at least take your hand off her mouth.”

“Oh no, that would be most unwise.”

“How so?”

“She would embarrass herself and we must prevent it, especially within these halls. Do you not know it is said that even walls have ears? The Princess’ reputation would be ruined.”

“I am starting to properly loathe that word.”

“You would be surprised to learn how many things I loathe.”

Imrolas raised an eyebrow and Estella scoffed. “I must confess I deeply envy those who do not live here. Though serving the realm is my most sacred franchise, I…”

“You wish you were not the Princess’ governess.”

“I love our Princess as if she were my own child. As a matter of fact, she reminds me of my daughter; my beautiful girl whom I lost so many years ago. Yet…”

“Yet?”

“I truly wish we could help her. She does not deserve to be married off so young.”

Imrolas glanced at the Princess. “Are you comfortable up there, Madam?”

The Princess released a grunt and kicked Imrolas in the shoulder. The latter wheezed. “I suppose not.”

“She need not worry, for I will soon free her. That is, if she acts as befitting her station.”

“I do hope you will release her.” He leaned in. “Mind your tongue, my lady. She is the King’s daughter. A bold choice of words may cost you your pretty head.”

“Nonsense. The Princess would never harm me. Perhaps it is you, after all. You are eager to get rid of me.”

“Oh, not at all my fair lady,” he quipped. “You may not believe me, but I very much enjoy being around you when you are not insulting me.”

“You take delight in annoying me, Imrolas. I reckon that to be far more likely.”

“Perhaps.” He sighed. “Would you mind putting the Princess down? Watching her flail her arms makes me uncomfortable.”

“Oh, my poor, sensitive Imrolas,” the governess mocked him. “I suppose you have never been to battle. It would serve you well. At least you would learn to be less impressionable.”

“And you have, my lady? How many enemies have you slaughtered with your beautiful dress and headpieces? How many experienced warriors have you faced?”

“It is not a fair comparison, my Lord Secretary.”

“Women can participate in war if they so wish. Take the late Lady Éowyn for instance. She joined the army led by Théoden King and Éomer King and killed the Lord of the Nazgûl at the Pelennor Fields. She was only twenty-four years of age when she did that. I think it is impressive.”

“Not all women are like the Lady Éowyn. Be careful not to speak of her.”

“How come? She should be hailed as one of the greatest figures of this past age. She saved us all. Minas Tirith would have fallen, had she not slain that foul beast and its accursed rider.”

“I am aware of it. I know it all too well. Yet, you should refrain from mentioning her deeds. Members of this court may be quick to judge you and, as far as I know, most of them despise you already. You had better not give them any more reasons to hate you.”

“Do they really despise me?”

“If the persistent rumors I have heard have some truth to them…I suppose that…”

“Why would they though? I have never offended or disrespected anyone. I have never even spoken to them, Estella. I barely talk to anyone except you and King Elessar. I am his secretary, the Lord Chancellor as some would say. I manage his correspondence, and I am in charge of his seal. It is my responsibility to keep track of his private expenses, and it is also my duty to collect taxes. I spend my days in an office with a balcony overlooking the Citadel and I rarely leave my quarters whenever the King does not require my assistance. I am only trying to serve the realm to the best of my ability. I may not have been the most qualified candidate to…”

“There. That is precisely the reason why others loathe the sight of you.”

“They think I am unfit to serve as Lord Chancellor, do they not?”

“You said so yourself. You mentioned how clumsy and clueless you are several times since I met you and remarked on it earlier.”

“No, I…I did not…I meant…I…”

“Calm down, Imrolas.”

“Do you agree with them?”

“Imrolas…”

“It is a simple question. The answer should not require much thought, as it is fairly straightforward. Do you agree or not?”

Estella glanced at him. “No. No, I don’t.” Her lips curved into a meek smile, an amused twinkle in her eye. “Although you could try and be slightly more…organized. I have seen your study, and I think you should thank the Valar the King is not interested in visiting you.”

“He does not have time to visit me. He has many issues to take care of and so have I.”

“You should be grateful and pray that the One keeps him busy.”

“It is not funny, Estella. I take my duties seriously and…”

“I know that, my friend. I just thought I could land you a helping hand.”

“What for? I mean, I am flattered. I…what would I need help with? I cannot think of a single thing that needs fixing or…”

“When was the last time that study was cleaned, for instance?”

The secretary instantly paled. “Ugh…I…well, I…”

“That is what I thought.”

“What…what do you intend to do about it?”

“Dust it? Clean it? Sweep the floors, add some color to it? Add some flowers, a few pillows here and there? One may as well find more cheer in the Houses of the Dead.”

“I am very meticulous when it comes to…”

“Oh, do keep your tongue behind your teeth, Imrolas! You cannot fool me.”

“I am not trying to, I…”

“Here we are,” the governess cut him off. “Madam?”

Gilraen let out a grunt and tried to sound out some words, Estella’s hand still on her mouth.

“May Eru be blessed, you are alive. You have been awfully quiet; I was starting to worry.”

The Princess’ mumbling prompted Estella to set her free. She put her down gently and fixed her hair. “We are approaching the King’s study. Please, Madam, do not cause a scene.”

“I have no desire to marry.”

“You will have to. Your father…”

“He cannot force me.”

“You are the King’s daughter, and you are expected to...”

“I will not marry anyone. Not for a long time.”

“I have no wish to gag you again, but if you keep arguing and interrupting me when I am attempting to…”

“What about you? Have you ever considered taking another husband? You could wed Imrolas. I heard you talk, and you quarrel like an old married couple. What do you think, Imrolas?”

“Madam, now it is not an appropriate time to jest. Your father is waiting for you. You should go.”

“Will you two not accompany me?”

The secretary and the governess exchanged a glance. “Would you like us to?”

“Yes. I do not think I can do it alone.”

They walked to her father’s study silently, Imrolas and Estella slowing their pace so that the Princess could take the lead. They were servants and, as such, it was forbidden for them to trudge by her side. They turned a corner and saw full-armored guards stationed on both sides of the corridor, the winged crown of Gondor and the scepter of Annúminas intertwined in an elaborate coat of arms that was plastered on their tabards as well as on their helms. They bowed as she hesitantly trudged along, their heads as low as hers. She stopped before a carved oak door. She turned back and sighed as Estella and Imrolas each gave her an encouraging nod. Then they both bowed and took their leave of her. She stood still for a few more minutes before the guard standing closest to her opened the door, careful not to meet her eye. She pursed her lips and prayed to Eru. All will be well, she told herself. Whatever happens, do not lose hope. For lost is the faithless when the road darkens.

“Gilraen, guren vell. Do come in.”

She entered the room and curtsied. Elessar stood and walked up to her, hugging her tightly. “My beautiful girl. You must be wondering why I called you here.”

He kissed her brow and the light in his eyes dimmed as he glanced into hers. “What is it, my child?”

“I…I was told…”

“Oh, you already know about it, then.” He kissed her cheek. “I am so proud of you, my sweet girl. Are you alright?”

Her lips curved into an understated smile as she bowed her head.

“Gilraen?”

“I am, my lord. I am fine. You seem to be in good health as well.”

“It is because of you that I still live, my daughter.” He ran a hand through her hair. “I need you to promise me something.”

“You only need ask. I am yours to command.”

“Never try and save my life again.”

“Father…”

“Should I perish, whether it be in combat or…”

“Please don’t…”

“You’re right. You probably do not wish to hear unpleasant things on such a joyful occasion. I have summoned you here to discuss another matter. I apologize for not telling you sooner, but, as it happens, my mind was set on your full recovery.”

“I know. Though I was unconscious most of the time, I knew you were by my side. I felt your presence, and, for that, I am grateful. You worked tirelessly to ensure my survival.”

Elessar caressed her face. “My sweet girl…forgive me for not being a better father to you. Eru knows that I have made mistakes. I have neglected you and disregarded you, but I believe I have found a way to mend our relationship. I know how tedious life at court is to you. Which is why I have decided to allow you to spend a few months away from the capital.”

Gilraen’s eyes widened. “My liege, I…”

“Father. Please do not use titles with me. I am your father, Gilraen.”

“I...do not know what to say.”

“It is not what you have always wished for?”

“I…”

“You are trembling. Are you certain you’re alright?”

“I…”

“Gilraen?”

His tone was full of concern. “My child, look at me. If you don’t feel well…”

“I am fine. I am just…confused.”

“How so?”

“You were never in favor of me leaving Minas Tirith. You always called me back whenever I left to visit Aunt Mörwen and you know how safe her mansion is. Why would you send me away when you always insisted that I stay here?”

“You are not going back to Dol Amroth. Forget about Aunt Mörwen.”

She frowned. “What do you mean? Am I no longer allowed to…”

“You will be escorted to Lossarnach as soon as possible.”

“Why? What am I to do there?”

“It is my personal thank you to you, my child. A wedding gift which I hope shall be well received.”

“Wedding gift?”

“Are you not glad?”

“I…”

“Gilraen?”

“Should I be?”

“It is for you to tell me. Though I must confess I did expect quite a different reaction. Usually, ladies cannot contain their excitement hearing such news. That is my experience, at least.”

“To whom am I to be married? Imrolas would not speak about it. Why am I being sent to Lossarnach? There is nothing for me to do there.”

“Your betrothed has been granted lordship over the region and you, as his bride, are entitled to the title of lady of Lossarnach. The Prince of Umbar was briefly considered as a viable alternative, but you never seemed comfortable with the idea of crossing the border.”

“That is not true. I have only been to Dol Amroth, and you always called me back here nearly as soon as you learned of my departure. I would like to travel to Rohan and I should also enjoy to visit my uncles and see my Lady Mother’s childhood home for myself. Rivendell must be so beautiful and…”

“That is enough, Gilraen.”

“But…”

“I must tell you that the grandson of the current lord of Lebennin was also considered. I have met with the boy on a number of occasions and, though he would be an excellent husband, he suffers from a variety of ailments which can hardly be treated. I feel for the boy, truly. He would be the perfect husband for you, but I doubt he would be able to fulfill his marital duties. Our House is young, and it needs heirs in order to leave a lasting legacy.

“I am twelve years old…”

“I know, my child, I know. Your brother is fourteen and so is his own betrothed. Such is nature of unions among the nobility, whether we approve of it or we do not. I understand such a commitment may be cause of worry and distress, which is why I recommend that you spend some time with the lady Elenna. After all, she is your brother’s intended, and she also happens to be well-advised on several…”

“I will never be like the Lady Elenna nor do I wish to. I admire her but I pity her. I pity her and I would rescue her if I could. I would save her from the dark pit in which she is trapped.

“Trapped?”

“Have you not noticed how miserable she is?”

Elessar sighed. “She did indeed endure some unpleasant…”

“Do you think forcing an arranged marriage upon her will be at all helpful? The poor girl is unwell and no one seems to care. If she really must marry, at least have her choose her own husband. I have seen how Eldarion treats her, Father. I witnessed some of his brutality. He has no regard for her honor and…”

“I will not let you slander your brother. While it is understandable that you may not see eye to eye on certain...”

“Father, Eldarion is...”

“Do not interrupt me, my child,” he admonished her. “While I do agree that there are many at court who do not wish the Lady Elenna well—many of whom I have known for several years—I am beyond convinced your brother is not one of them. He may not be in love with her as of now, but he would never mistreat her.”

“Do you understand that a great deal of her pain and suffering are to be attributed to none other than my very own brother, to the Crown Prince you so revere? What has Eldarion done to deserve the constant praise you and Mother seem to be so keen on lavishing upon him? What has he done to deserve such boundless love? What has he achieved that I have not accomplished as well?”

“You both are distinguished members of House Telcontar. The future of the Reunited Kingdom rests in your hands.”

“You have not answered my question, Father,” Gilraen insisted. “What has Eldarion done that is so deserving of merit and attention?”

Elessar sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “It is true then. I hoped your brother’s worries were futile and unfounded. At last, it turns out he was correct.”

“Of what do you speak? What are you referring to?”

“Sadly, your brother is aware of the blatant disdain in which you hold him and is disconcerted by your cold demeanor and arrogant manners, which, I admit, I had not noticed until he pointed them out to me. He stressed how some of the rather grievous incidents in which you were recently involved and the issues that followed may have been exacerbated by your condescending attitude.”

“He accused me of being condescending?”

She scoffed. “I am so very pleased to know that my irreprehensible brother is now fit to lecture me on morals. If I may say so, Father, I think he ought to strive to better his own behavior and focus on his duties. As the Crown Prince, he is expected to uphold to the values of our forefathers.”

“Of course he is. And so are you.”

“I am trying to my best to act according to my conscience. I have always done so, and I stand firm on this proposition of mine. I am not one to be easily swayed.”

“Of that, I am glad,” he replied dryly. “Though I still fail to understand what you were trying to imply.”

“I find it odd that a man of your wisdom and acumen was unable to grasp the hidden meaning behind my previous statement.”

“Fret not, I did pick up on the subtleties.” Elessar glanced at his daughter, his gray eyes cold and stern. “However, I should very much like you to detail Eldarion’s misdeeds. They must be grave indeed to warrant such a harsh reaction.”

“Eldarion is not the boy you believe him to be, my liege.”

“It was your brother who brought it to my attention. We discussed the matter at great length, and it may be due to a poorly concealed feeling of jealousy on your part. While I dismissed his claim at the time our conversation about the matter took place, I see now that I should have heeded his words.”

“I never once thought my beloved father would favor one of his children beyond measure while completely disregarding the other, but it is apparent that the Crown Prince succeeded in poisoning you against me.” Her lip quivered. “What happened to you? Tell me, Ada. I…I need to know. What happened to us? Has your love for me utterly faded? Why will you not believe me, why will you not listen to me? Why will you not even look me in the eye?”

“Now it is not the time to address such…”

“You will not dismiss me again,” she chimed in. “I will not allow it.”

“Very well. Do speak, Gilraen.”

“Have you truly not noticed anything odd in Eldarion’s behavior? Is she such a good pretender that you would believe him if he told you that the Valar came among us?”

“Say what you must and make haste, I pray you. I did not summon you here so that you could slander your brother with unfounded accusations. Your intended is joining us shortly in order to discuss the terms of your betrothal as well as his plans for the betterment of Lossarnach.”

“You will not listen to me, will you? I have to yet say a word and…”

“Gilraen.”

“I must beg my liege to call off the Crown Prince’s betrothal to the Lady Elenna of Ithilien.”

Elessar frowned. “Why? I doubt that the Lady Elenna has behaved improperly.”

Gilraen clenched her jaw. “Must it always be the Lady Elenna or any other woman? Why can it not be Eldarion? Is it because he is a boy? Is it because he is a male?”

“You know very well that is not what I meant.”

“Is it because he is your coveted heir, the high and mighty Crown Prince of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor? Is that why you cannot fathom the concept of him ever making a mistake? That is it, is it not?”

“Your brother is a kind and thoughtful young man.”

“That is what he wants you and Mother to believe. Although he is excellent at making it seem so, he is not who he pretends to be.”

“Gilraen…”

“He beats her, Father. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your precious son. My brother. Eldarion.”

Elessar stared at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “What about him?”

“Do you not understand? He is the sole responsible for her troubles.” She sighed. “You care deeply about her, do you not?”

“Of course I do. She is a blessing to our family and will be a wonderful Crown Princess and an excellent Queen in due time. The realm will flourish under her guide and protection.”

“She will not be the Crown Princess, Father. For her own sake, she cannot be. Eldarion should not be permitted to wed until he matures and learns how to treat others.”

Confusion and bewilderment were etched on the King’s features. “My son would never disrespect anyone. He was not raised that way. I made sure of it.”

“I know,” the Princess quipped. “Unfortunately, my brother appears to have forgotten the values you and my Lady Mother tried to instill in him as a child. He strayed from the rightful path you set him on long ago and sought refuge in the counsel of another.”

She paused. “I suppose you are aware of his fondness for his tutor.”

Elessar nodded. “Lord Daeron is a trusted member of his household and a valuable ally to the Crown. He is a core member of my Council and has served me faithfully since I reclaimed the throne that was mine by right. He recently further proved his worth and his loyalty to the realm by saving your life. You, my daughter, stand before me because of him and, for that, I am forever in his debt. A debt which, I fear, shall never be fully paid. Though an attempt was made and an agreement between us was indeed reached, I fear it will not suffice.”

Gilraen ignored him. “What if he was to blame for Eldarion’s misbehavior? His influence on him is growing stronger by the day.”

“Lord Daeron oversees his scholarly education, that is all. Your brother has no other reason to see him, and, to my knowledge, he does not interact with him unless he has queries about his daily assignments. They speak of history, grammar and politics.”

“I presume Eldarion himself told you so.”

“You are correct.”

“I assume you do not know about his many concubines then.”

“What are you saying, Gilraen? You enjoy spreading lies and deceit to tarnish his reputation, do you not? What is it that you hope to gain from your scheming? Do you seek to win the people’s favor?” He looked at her gravely. “Are you plotting to overthrow me? Do you want to be queen? Tell me, Gilraen. You wish to rule, is that right?”

Her eyes widened. “Father, how can you…?”

“What will you do? Speak. Tell me all about it. Will you have your brother killed? Are you hoping the people will murder him so that you can ascend the throne? Will you get rid of me as well? Will you have me executed? What about your mother? Is she going to be exiled?”

“How quickly did you forget that I saved you,” she replied, her tone low. “How quickly. I took an arrow that was meant for you, I bled for you, I nearly died for you, and this is what you think? Do you truly believe I would usurp your throne and murder my family in cold blood? I care nothing for that stupid chair. Yes, Father, that is all that it is. A stupid chair. A stupid, meaningless chair that could as well be destroyed by a flood or a natural disaster of any sort. Do you think I would choose a chair over my parents?”

“I did not…”

“I am trying to have a conversation with you, I am attempting to reason with you. I am only asking for a few minutes of your time. I am only asking you to listen. Can you do that? Can you listen to your own daughter? Is it too much to…”

Her voice trailed off and tears welled up in her gray eyes. “You need to save her. Save the Lady Elenna from my brother. Call off their betrothal. Marry her to somebody else, someone who will take care of her. I may not know her all that well, but she is struggling, Father. That much is clear for all to see. She is suffering and it is my wish to help her.”

“I had suggested that you spend some time with her. It will benefit you greatly. As I mentioned earlier, she is the epitome of…”

“Are you in denial or just plain cruel? She is suffering and we must do something to aid her. We must intervene before she…”

She noticed how her father had stiffened, his eyes suddenly vacant. “Are you alright?”

He did not reply and Gilraen raised an eyebrow. “Father?”

He gulped and took a deep breath before he sat. “I did intervene. Had I waited one more instant, she…”

“What did she do?”

“I…”

“Did my brother do something to her?”

“Gilraen…”

“Did the Prince force himself on her? I know he slaps her and pushes her around when she does not give in to his whims. I caught a glimpse of several bruises on her arms, and I may have inquired about a visible split lip but…even I cannot picture my brother...”

She held her breath and exhaled loudly. “He would not do that, would he? She is to be his wife. He cannot…please tell me that he…”

“She has taken up to wearing a tight collar around her throat, has she not?”

Gilraen blinked, confused. “I thought it was necklace at first, but…yes, she…she does wear one. Other ladies wear jewelry of the same fashion. Why do you ask?”

“She…she was attacked by two of your mother’s attendants. She would not say their names even though I begged her multiple times. She was trembling. They injured her with scissors and punched her repeatedly in the face. Poor child was so scared. They attacked her out of envy. That is what she told me. She said they harmed her because they were jealous of her future status as Crown Princess. She said they claimed to have slept with your brother. I did not believe it; I still do not believe it. I did not raise my son that way. My Eldarion would never do that. I warned the Lady Elenna about the remote possibility of him taking a mistress, but…”

“You knew…”

“I would have warned anyone. Infidelity is rampant in Gondor; it always has been. I simply wished to warn her as I would have done with any other lady. What matters is…I did not believe her. I got angry and said things I should not have. She blamed her late mother for her misfortune and…asked me to return to Emyn Arnen. She said she only wanted to be happy, and she doubted she could find respite here at court. She pleaded again and again…she cried out that she only wished to go home. I refused. I did not give her my permission to return to Ithilien. Then…”

He smothered a sob. “She grabbed her silver dagger, the one I gave her as a birthday present a few years ago. She held it tightly, pressed it against her throat and…”

Gilraen was fuming. “Why would you not allow her to leave? She attempted to kill herself…she tried to…”

The tears she had been holding back were now freely trickling down her pale cheeks. “You are to blame for this. It is your fault. You truly are cruel. Why would you…”

She was shaking in anger. “I am to be married to Daerion, am I not? You gave my hand in marriage to that depraved, disgusting, utterly foul specimen of a Secondborn. That was the agreement you reached, was it not?”

“He is a good man. He saved you when I could not.”

“I wish I had died.”

“GILRAEN!”

“I wish I had died before I learned what you did to an innocent girl who just wanted to see her home again. I wish I had died before I learned what sort of despicable individual you are.”

“I did not…”

“I am leaving. I am going back to Dol Amroth. Aunt Mörwen will attend on me so that I will not have to see you again.”

She turned and walked to the door. Elessar immediately rose to his feet. “I will not allow it, Gilraen.”

“I presumed you would say it. I hoped you would.”

“You are not permitted to leave this room until your betrothed arrives.”

“You can speak his name.”

A page suddenly entered the room and bowed. “I beg your pardon my liege,” he said sheepishly. “Lord Daerion is here. He says he was summoned to discuss a matter of the utmost importance.”

Elessar stood up. “He was.” He composed himself. “Let him in.”

The page bowed once more. “My King.”

He furthered opened the door and a tall, distinguished man who could have easily passed for a gentleman made his way in. Gilraen stumbled as he stepped closer to her. “My Princess,” he saluted her before bowing to Elessar. “My liege. You honor me beyond words.”

“Come, my lord.”

Gilraen shivered as her brother’s tutor walked by her. She sighed and held her breath, trying to control her shaking hands. She stood still, her ears deaf to most of the conversation between her father and her—she nearly fainted as she allowed herself to reflect on it—future husband. She could not move, her feet unable to sustain her weight. She fell to her knees without a sound, her mind blank. She no longer knew who she was, she did not know where she was, and it did not matter to her. She had died. She was reminded of the Lady Elenna and of her pain. A pain she had only now begun to understand.

She was pulled up by a pair of arms, but she could not feel her father’s embrace. She heard his voice call her name, but she found she was unable to talk.

She blinked as she realized she was lying on her bed. She was in her chambers, her governess watching over her.

“Madam?”

Gilraen whimpered. “Estella?”

She stirred. “My head hurts.”

“I was so worried when I saw your father carrying you…”

“Why was I brought here? What happened? I cannot seem to remember.”

“I am not quite sure.”

“Did I faint?”

“I would not say so, Madam. You were…catatonic. Lord Daerion mentioned how concerned he was and…”

Gilraen jerked as her mind cleared. Being of Elven descent certainly had its own perks. “I need to leave. Tomorrow. I am going back to Dol Amroth. Tell the maids to prepare all that is needed. We are going and the Lady Elenna is coming with us.”

“Madam, I am afraid it is not possible. The King…”

“He is marrying me off to him, Estella. I did not even want to be wed, and he is entrusting me to that old creep. What have I done to deserve it? Why me, Estella, why me!?”

“Madam, I am sure there is an explanation. You need to calm down. Your father would never endanger you. You need to speak to him so that he can…”

“We are leaving, Estella. We are leaving. The three of us.”

The governess looked puzzled. “The third person being…?”

“Why, the Lady Elenna, of course! Have someone—anyone—from my household send her a message. Urge them to do as I command at once. We cannot afford to waste time. We are leaving at dawn tomorrow.”

“Madam…you need plenty of rest and…”

“I need to see Aunt Mörwen. Both my life and that of the Lady of Ithilien depend on it, do you understand?”

“Madam, you need to calm down. Perhaps if the physician examined you…”

“I need you to listen to me. I need you to do as I say. Please, Estella. We both need to go. Aunt Mörwen will help us.”

“I…”

“That is, unless you want me to kidnap the Lady Elenna and run off with her as soon as the sun sets. I have done it before, and you know I would be capable of doing it again.” She chuckled. “I did not kidnap anyone last time though. Do you think it would be an easy feat to accomplish?”

Estella glared at her but the Princess ignore her disapproving looks. “So, what is it going to be?”

The governess pursed her lips. “I will have someone send the Steward’s daughter a message.”

“I knew I could trust you. I am not marrying Daerion, and she is not marrying my brother.”

“Is this why…”

“Yes. I will not let it happen. We will both be free.”

“I do not think the King and Lord Faramir will…”

“Go, Estella. Please. Please, do as I ask.”

The governess curtsied and left, a crease on her forehead. Young Gilraen smiled and soon her smile tuned into a smirk. She would be free. Soon, they would both be free. And happy.

Yes. They would be happy. The Lady Elenna would smile too at last.

She deserves it, Gilraen thought, she deserves it more than anyone. May the Valar protect us both. I do not know her all that well, but I want her to be happy.

She blew the candle on her night table and closed her eyes. Estella was right, she did need to rest. A long journey awaited her. A long, somewhat expected journey.

Canon Character Faceclaims:

Henry Cavill as Eldarion

Original Character Faceclaims

Kaya Scodelario as Gilraen

Burcu Gül Kazbek as Estella, Gilraen's governess

Daniel Portman as Imrolas

Aidan Gillen as Daerion

Selen Öztürk as Mörwen

Tags:

@tolkienocweek

@lucifers-legions

@emmanuellececchi

@saurongorthaur9

12 notes · View notes

im-a-wonderling · 1 year ago

Text

White Moves First, Part 3 ~ Edmund Pevensie

Massive thanks to @writing-on-the-wahl for all her help. I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?

Warnings: Rabadash continuing to be sleazy and a horrible understanding of how chess works lol

Word count: 4.8k

White Moves First Masterlist | Main masterlist

Typically, the morning after a ball, most of the court to stayed in bed until noon, including most of the advisors on my father’s council, which meant when I awoke, there would be no council meeting to listen in on for hours.

My curated beauty had done its part last night, so when I awoke, I dressed in my simplest dress: a green gown with dark laces on the front instead of on the back, which allowed me to put it on with no assistance. With no council meeting to eavesdrop on until later, I stole some breakfast from the kitchens and made my way to the gardens with scissors and a basket. In summertime, I loved to pick a bouquet for my rooms, and if I was going to be occupying myself for the morning, this was the best way to do it.

The herbs and vegetables used by the kitchens were grown behind the castle, in the space between the castle and the wall surrounding Anvard, so the castle gardens were purely for enjoyment.

Blooms of every kind blossomed, some hidden by the tall hedges, others raised so they could be seen from anywhere. From what others told me, my mother’s favorite pastime was to walk amongst the flowers of every shape and color. Apparently nothing had been planted here without my mother’s approval, and since she passed, my father liked to keep everything exactly the way she’d liked it.

A ring of large trees had been planted around the garden, offering me enough of a shield to keep me from being spotted, but I still ventured deep into the garden. After being watched by the entire court last night, I craved the privacy to think and feel anything I wanted.

Breathing in the fresh smells surrounding me, I stopped in front of a bush of white roses, reaching out to brush a rose that hadn’t quite bloomed yet with my finger.

“Y/N!”

I glanced up to see Edmund walking towards me, the new sun behind him highlighting bits of his brown hair and making it seem like he wore a shining crown. As he drew nearer, I noticed his clothing was not that befitting his station, but a plain green tunic with brown trousers. In contrast to his relaxed attire was the sword strapped to his waist.

Why was he here? Had he been on his way to spar and then noticed me? That can’t be right, I thought to myself. If he’d been simply walking past the garden on the way to the barracks, he wouldn’t have seen me.

“Good morning!” I called brightly, using my scissors to clip the young rose and setting it into my basket.

Edmund merely nodded, coming to a stop in front of me.

“Were you trying to match me?” I asked with a sly smile, motioning to his outfit and then mine.

He didn’t reply. He merely stood there, studying my face with something unidentifiable in his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?”

He hesitated and then nodded again. “Did you?”

I snipped another rose. “As well as I could after spending an evening with Prince Rabadash.” Out of the corner of my eye, Edmund tensed, his grip on his sword tightening. “Only time will tell if my father got the clarity he wanted.”

Edmund rolled his shoulders a couple times, as if the muscles were sore. “There’s going to be another council meeting after lunch. We can meet in the drawing room after, and I’ll tell you about it.”

“I would like that.”

Silence fell between us as heavy as a baby elephant and not half as adorable. The dark-haired king’s gaze fell to his feet, as if he were checking to make sure he wasn’t too close to the edge of a cliff.

“What’s wrong?”

Edmund jerked his head up. “Wrong? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

I shot him a rare, reproachful look. “Don’t pretend. Not with me.” Edmund sucked his lips into his mouth, looking more upset than he had before. “What’s going–”

“You danced with Rabadash nine times last night.”

I could do nothing but blink. Was there some significance about nine dances? And why had he counted in the first place? “And?”

“And you danced with me once.”

Oh.

“Edmund, you can’t read into–”

“You said that you didn’t like him. That he was an…” Edmund’s cheeks colored, and I nearly laughed at his inability to repeat what I’d called Prince Rabadash. “Yet you danced with him.” He shuffled his feet, not meeting my eyes.

Was he upset? Did he somehow think that I preferred that worm to him?

The very idea was laughable.

And yet the sadness on Edmund’s face was so deeply etched, I could feel it emitting from him like a harsh wind.

I dropped the scissors, brushing off my hands. “My father asked me to.”

Edmund’s eyes shot to my face, eyebrows drawn together. “He asked you to dance with Rabadash?”

“He asked me to…” I sighed, folding my arms across my chest to combat the creeping feeling slinking across my skin. “To stay close to him, I guess?”

Edmund’s frown was leagues darker than I’d ever seen. “How close?”

“Close enough to convince him not to attack Archenland.” I bent down to retrieve my scissors. “Unfortunately, I think he was focusing more on me than Archenland.”

“Did he make you uncomfortable?” Edmund asked with great alarm.

I ran my finger across the edge of the scissors, stalling as I neared the rosebush. “He didn’t do anything improper.”

I prepared to cut another rose, but suddenly a shadow fell on me. I glanced up to see Edmund standing close enough to block out the sun. “That’s not what I asked.”

My voice failed me.

I didn’t get much satisfaction out of lying to people in general, but this was Edmund. Beyond being a man of great integrity who genuinely cared about my wellbeing, he was my best friend. Out of everyone I knew, he would most understand the deep-seated unease I felt around the Calormen prince.

But as I met Edmund’s gaze, I knew I didn’t have to say a word. An understanding passed between us, quicker than lightning. Edmund stepped back, once again creating a respectful amount of space between us. “After last night, he should have no reason to get close to you ever again.”

That we know of.

I almost voiced the thought, but shook it off. It was a beautiful morning, and I was in a beautiful place with one of my favorite people. Negativity had no place here. “The roses will bloom any day now,” I said, cutting another rose and dropping it into my basket.

“They are…very nice.”

I shot Edmund a look. “Very nice? Is that the extent of your complimentary vocabulary?”

He chuckled, holding up his hands. “I’m afraid unless the roses are armed and trying to duel, I have nothing much to say.”

“Is that what you’re going to say to your wife on your wedding day? That she looks very nice?”

“Well, only if she asks.”

I laughed, much too loudly for a proper lady, but Edmund looked pleased. Picking up my basket, I shaded my eyes from the sun. “Perhaps then we should take a turn about the other parts of the garden. Maybe you’ll get lucky and the marigolds will launch an attack.”

Edmund guffawed. “Well then, milady, will you allow me to escort you?” He offered me his arm, his eyes twinkling. “For protection, of course.”

“If you insist.” I loftily looped my arm with his, causing both of us to chuckle before walking down the garden path. As we ambled along, my gratitude for the man beside me grew and grew. Of course I was thankful he’d let the topic of conversation switch to something other than Rabadash, but it was more than that.

It bothered Edmund to see me with the Calormen prince, and I was glad of it. Yet even that didn’t stand in the way of the camaraderie we shared. He made me feel at ease, simply by being himself.

I paused to cut some carnations. “Was Lucy terribly disappointed about not coming to Anvard?”

Edmund laughed, glancing down at his feet. “Oh, practically inconsolable until I promised that you’d come to Narnia for a visit.”

Tendrils of longing curled in my chest, making it hard to breathe for a few moments. Oh, to visit Narnia would be a dream. Hopefully that dream was closer to fruition than many of my other dreams. “And how’s your brother doing?” I managed to ask around the self-pity.

“Oh, same as he always is.” Edmund leaned against a nearby cherry tree in full bloom. “Making great, kingly proclamations and pretending he doesn’t know half of the women in this world are in love with him.”

I snorted as I moved on to clip a few stems of lavender. “He’s a blond, what do you expect?” I lifted a sprig to my nose, breathing in the calming scent.

Edmund chuckled. “I suppose that’s fair.”

I held out a sprig. “Do you like lavender?”

His eyes settled the plant. “It’s purple.”

“Yes.”

“Am I supposed to like or dislike the color purple?”

I rolled my eyes. “I mean, do you like the smell?”

He tilted his head, looking confused.

“Honestly Edmund,” I said with a sigh, bounding up to him. “You can be so uncivilized.”

He opened his mouth, looking mightily offended, but I held out the lavender right beneath his nose. He closed his eyes and mouth before breathing in the calming smell, his chest rising considerably. Then his exhale sent air skimming across my fingers. Edmund’s eyes fluttered open. “It smells wonderful,” he said softly.

The wind picked up, blowing my hair into my face and filling the air with pink petals drifting this way and that.

Before I could react, Edmund lifted his hand to my hair, tucking it behind my ear. It was quick, easy action, like his hand had acted without permission from his mind. “You have flowers in your hair,” he murmured as his fingers drifted from my ear to the top of my head, gently picking them out.

I stood rock still, gazing up at Edmund’s intent face. It was the same face he made while studying the chessboard halfway through a game as he tried to puzzle out all the potential interactions between the pieces.

I liked that face.

I liked his face.

His fingers were still at work in my hair, but his eyes darted down for a moment.

Something he saw there must’ve caught his attention, for his fingers paused in their work. His sharp eyes, trained on my face, held no delight, and his lips held no smile, and yet...

Yet.

I felt a shift, like the ground underneath my feet was giving way. The longer he stood still within arms reach, looking down at me, the more my heart started to race.

Why is he looking for so long? my head asked with great apprehension.

Why has he never looked for this long before? my heart whispered back.

“Princess.”

Edmund and I leapt apart to see Prince Rabadash, casually leaning against a tree.

“Prince Rabadash,” I said, quickly walking over to my basket, dropping the lavender into it. “I hope you slept well.”

When I didn’t get a response, I straightened to see the two men staring at each other. Edmund’s nostrils were flared, but Rabadash was smiling.

“I slept marvelously,” the prince said, his attention shifting to me. “You know, being so worn out from so much dancing last night.”

Edmund shifted.

I managed a smile. “My father will be pleased to hear that.”

“Did you enjoy last night as much as I did?” Rabadash asked, an easygoing smile upon his face.

My cringe nearly broke through my carefully crafted expression, so it took me a few moments to work out a response. “Last night was certainly noteworthy.”

Rabadash didn’t respond with anything other than a smile, but that smile spoke volumes. The excessive pride radiated from him like the stench from the stables. Whatever game he was playing, he certainly thought he was winning.

“Have you had breakfast yet, Your Highness?” I asked, hoping that he hadn’t and that he’d go find some.

“I was actually hoping we could eat together.”

Edmund stepped forward. “I’m sorry, but the princess has work to do in these gardens. You’ll have to go find some breakfast on your own.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate.” Rabadash clasped his hands together. “I shall have to go find your father instead.” He gave a little bow and turned back towards the castle.

Edmund and I watched him go.

“Ass,” Edmund muttered under his breath once Rabadash was out of sight, and I chuckled.

“Am I rubbing off on you, Your Majesty?” When Edmund didn’t respond to the quip, I sidled up to him. “Hey.” I waited until Edmund looked at me. “Soon enough, he’ll be back in his own country, and we can deal with him from afar.”

“Can’t come soon enough.” He sighed. “I’d better go get changed before the council meeting later.”

“Ahh, yes, you have important things to do,” I said with a smile, ignoring the pang of wishing I could be involved in those important things too. “Well, thanks for protecting me from the marigolds.”

Edmund didn’t laugh. “Believe me,” he assured, “I would much rather spend the day protecting you from marigolds than going to meetings.” Before I could comment, he brought my hand to his lips, kissing it lightly. With a wink, he walked in the opposite direction as Rabadash.

Suddenly the pleasant morning temperature felt a bit hot.

After clipping a few more flowers of various colors, I left the gardens and entered the castle, heading for the kitchens to get a vase and water for my bouquet.

I crossed the main hall, about to break off for the servant staircase when I caught sight of my father and Rabadash at the end of the hall. Quickly, I ducked behind a column, peeking around the corner at them. Being too far away to hear them, I could only see their facial expressions.

Rabadash looked as slimy as he always did, but my father rubbed the side of his neck, looking thoughtful.

My stomach dropped.

If my father was considering whatever Rabadash was saying…that meant there was something to consider.

Nearly forgetting my basket, I scurried in the other direction, headed straight for the councilroom. Whatever the two of them were discussing, my father would bring it up with the council as soon as he could, which meant I needed to get into place before they arrived.

Once I turned the corner, I hiked up my skirts and ran as fast as my legs would take me, ducking underneath the tapestry with no hesitation.

When the tapestry settled into place, I stood there, clenching the handle of my basket, breathing heavy while my mind raced.

Surely Prince Rabadash wouldn’t be so foolish as to declare war while he was still a guest at the castle? That would make it all too easy for him to be subdued or captured before going home. But would he lower his pride enough to ask for peace?

Never.

So what else could he possibly be asking for?

A loud bang sounded, making me drop my basket as a wave of raised voices reached my ears. I quickly bent to collect the flowers that had scattered through the alcove.

“Father, are you out of your mind?!” The voice belonged to one of my brothers, most likely Corin, since Cor never raised his voice. “What are you–”

“Silence!” my father thundered. “I will not have you question me.”

“But—”

“We have found a way towards peace! Someday, you will understand that peace is what matters most.”

The room went quiet.

“Your Majesty,” I heard an advisor ask, “what do you speak of?”

Someone let out a large sigh as my father answered. “Rabadash has approached me.”

I stopped breathing, waiting for him to continue as tension coiled in my chest like a snake trying to squeeze the life out of my lungs.

“What’s going on in here?” Edmund’s voice asked from a little farther away, and hearing it made me suck in a breath. Even though I couldn’t see him and he had no idea I was here, knowing he was there made the knot in my chest loosen slightly.

“King Edmund, Queen Susan, you got my message.” My father’s voice had considerably lowered, sounding far more respectful. “Please come in.”

There was some shuffling, and, judging by the scraping sounds, someone moved a chair.

“King Loon,” said Susan, “you’re making me nervous.”

Someone cleared their throat. “The prince was very taken by my daughter last night, as we all saw from how many times they danced together.” I strained my ears, wishing my father would talk faster. “Rabadash has approached me and offered to settle things in the old way.”

No.

My body revolted as I sank to the floor of the alcove, bracing a hand on the rock wall.

Anything but that.

“You mean–” Edmund started.

Someone slammed something down on the table, and my heart raced as I wished I could see through the tapestry to see who did it and why. “He means to marry off our sister to that arseworm!” Corin shouted.

“Boy, do not shout at me,” my father warned.

“Father–” said Corin, but he didn’t continue, clearly cut off by some nonverbal cue.

“I will draw up the terms of peace, and as soon as it is done, Prince Rabadash will sign and leave for Tashbaan.”

“With the princess?” a voice I didn’t recognize asked.

“With the princess,” my father confirmed. “They will wed back in Tashbaan.”

Silence fell in the room.

Then, it exploded, everyone talking over each other with such different volumes and emotions, I couldn’t pick any of it apart from the voices screaming in my own head.

Narnia and Archenland had battled Rabadash together in order to keep Susan away from Prince Rabadash’s clutches—and now my father was handing me to him on a silver platter?

Yes, Susan was a queen, and I was merely a princess, but I knew with certainty that if I were part of the Narnian royal family, many would be prepared to die before handing me to the Calormen prince like cattle.

“King Edmund,” my father asked, causing the room to go silent and bringing me out of my thoughts, “what is your counsel?”

I could picture my brothers, Queen Susan, the advisors, everyone turning to look at Edmund. Edmund conducted himself with such authority in the last meeting, it was hardly a surprise that my father wanted to hear from him. I waited with bated breath, wondering what my friend would possibly say in response to this.

But the room remained quiet.

“Edmund?” Queen Susan said. “Is everything alright?”

“Has Y/N agreed to this?” Edmund asked evenly.

Silence fell again.

“I see,” Edmund said. “How long ago did you discuss this with Prince Rabadash?”

“Not twenty minutes ago,” one of my brothers cut in.

“King Loon,” Edmund began, “Prince Rabadash is crafty. It is entirely possible that he has other motives for asking for the princess’s hand. For instance, he might be looking for a hostage by saying he’ll marry the princess once they arrive in Calormen.”

“So perhaps we should negotiate for the wedding to happen here, in Archenland,” my father mused. My heart leapt to hear my father taking advice from Edmund. My knight in black, acting in defense, just like always. Surely the Just King of all people would be able to convince my father away from this plan.

“This marriage could be Rabadash’s attempt for us to let our guard down, making it easier to get to my sister.”

I shut my eyes.

Of course.

It was foolish and sentimental of me to think that I was Edmund’s concern instead of his own flesh and blood.

“Narnia has spies in Calormen court,” Edmund continued. “Give us the chance to reach out to them and see if the prince has discussed the marriage with the Tisroc. That will help us gauge how serious Rabadash is about this marriage.”

No one spoke for a few moments.

“Very well,” my father said. “I will ask Rabadash for more time.” A few murmurs reached my ear. “But,” my father said sharply, “if he has discussed it with the Tisroc and is willing for them to be wed here, I am going to give him my daughter.”

Somewhere in the distant recesses of my mind, a gavel banged as my future went up in smoke.

I swallowed hard.

To hear my father talk of this without remorse or doubt…

I was my father’s only daughter, and yet he was willing to sell me for peace. Only Corin had spoken out against it, and he hadn’t even asked our father to inform me about the decision.

Still reeling, it took a long moment for me to realize that the room was completely silent. I slipped out from behind the tapestry. I stumbled through the halls like a woman in a dream, my thoughts whirling around like a spinning top. I barely realized where I was headed until my fist was banging on the door of the fanciest guest suite in the castle.

Prince Rabadash opened the door, and I didn’t even wait for an invitation before storming in. “Why do you want to marry me?” I demanded. There was no point in obeying my father’s request to be honey now, for apparently his intention was never for me to be kind for posterity’s sake.

“Hello to you as well,” Prince Rabadash said, turning to look at me and leaning his head against the still-open door.

“Please answer my question.”

Prince Rabadash smiled, shutting the door. “Why wouldn’t I want to marry you? You’re a princess, a very beautiful one I might add, and we had lovely conversations last night and this morning.”

“Don’t waste our time with insincere praise.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m asking you to tell me the truth.”

“I am not lying to you. You’re, by far, the most beautiful princess I’ve come across, and last night, I got to see the grace with which you handle yourself, even beyond the dance floor.” He licked his lips.

Despite the disgusting action, I knew he meant what he said. Still... “I don’t believe that’s the only reason why.”

“Isn’t it?” Prince Rabadash folded his arms, looking to all the world as if he enjoyed this. As if it were some kind of game.

Well, two could play. “Queen Susan is just as beautiful and graceful as I.”

A scowl broke through the prince’s easy-going expression. I felt a thrill of satisfaction. For even if he quickly smoothed over his expression, I’d struck a nerve.

My bishop takes his pawn.

“I believe you sell yourself short,” Rabadash said breezily.

“There’s a reason you’ve chosen me instead of continuing to fight for her.” I straightened my posture. “What is it?”

“I thought you wanted peace?” he said, coming forward.

I stood my ground, meeting his gaze without a care for what was proper. “I do. But if you truly wanted war, I don’t believe you’re the type to be swayed by a pretty face.”

“Not even a face as pretty as yours?” The prince gently caressed my jaw.

I smacked his hand away, anger rising. “If you’ve been paying half as much attention as you pretend, you would know your compliments mean nothing to me!”

Prince Rabadash inhaled deeply, as if there was some pleasant smell in the room. “There you are. You’ve finally come out from behind all this etiquette, all this courtesy.” He grinned, lifting a hand to run his finger over the delicate knot of my laces just above my waist. “It’s outrageously attractive.”

His knight takes my bishop.

It took all my strength not to stagger away from him, to stand my ground. “Why do you want to marry me?”

To my relief, the prince took a step back, dropping his hand. “Maybe I just want a guarantee that my country won’t be attacked.”

“Us? Attack you?” I folded my arms. “You’re the one who nearly took over my country!”

“And it makes perfect sense that there would be a retaliation.”

“You won’t get one from Archenland.” The words left my mouth before I realized that I had no authority to make that promise. But as desperate as I was, I didn’t care.

Rabadash lifted an eyebrow, leaning closer. “You’re willing to make that promise on Archenland’s behalf?”

I didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

My pawn takes his knight.

“Then what about the kings and queens of Narnia?”

I blinked. Why would he ask me such a thing? “That is yours to sort out with them as you will,” I said shortly. “I can’t speak for them.”

“Ahh, but there is only one reason they would promise me anything.”

What was he getting at? I silently wracked my brain for any possible explanation as I suspiciously regarded him.

That was a mistake.

Prince Rabadash nearly preened at the attention. “Oh, darling, don’t you understand?” he finally asked.

I nearly got distracted by my disgust at the pet name. “What don’t I understand?”

The prince moved forward, dipping his head close to my head so his lips were positioned right beside my ear. “You are my reason.”

I careened away from him, angry both at his proximity and at his evasive and confusing comments. “That makes no sense!”

“It makes sense to anyone who's seen the way the Narnian king interacts with you,” the prince replied, without moving from his spot.

His queen takes my pawn.

“Edmund?” I laughed, but the sound was too hysterical to sound genuine.

My queen moves behind my knight.

“He’d never do anything to put you in harm’s way, even if it meant peace with Calormen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Judging by the way he looks at you?” The prince cocked his head. “He would never do anything that could potentially put your life at risk.”

He could’ve hit me round the head, and I still would’ve been less confused. King Loon was willing to put my life at risk for peace. Why on earth would Rabadash think Edmund cared any more than my own father? “You’re staking the fate of countries on the way the king looks at me?” I spluttered.

“A look is all it takes to know when a man is in love.”

In love?

Edmund?

With me?

All I could do was blink at the prince, who looked pleased with himself for the bomb he’d dropped.

“I guessed as much last night, but it was clear as a bell this morning.”

His rook takes my queen. Check.

I opened my mouth.

“Don’t waste your breath denying it,” he said. “King Edmund wants you.” Heat crept up my neck as I tried not to think about Prince Rabadash’s implications. From the sly curve of his mouth, he knew the crudeness of what he was implying and enjoyed it. He sauntered forward. “The Narnian king cares for you. If you were in Calormen, he wouldn’t dream of attacking it. So the best way for me to protect my country is to make you one of my wives.”

My eyes widened. Wives? Plural?

“They will know that Calormen isn’t to be trifled with.” He lifted a hand to touch my face, and I was too focused on not passing out to shy away. “And you’ll be a beautiful addition to my harem.”

The world slammed into focus so violently, I jerked away from him. “I will never marry you,” I spat. “You are a hateful and revolting man.” I flounced towards the door, but Rabadash’s hand shot out and wrapped around my upper arm, pulling me back to him.

“You’ll have to find a way to get over your scruples,” he said, his grip tightening. “Because you’d better believe, if I don’t return to Tashbaan with you beside me, there will be no peace.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I growled back.

My bishop shifts, checking his king.

Wrong move.

His hold grew painful, enough that I cried out, as he brought his face right to mine. “You don’t.”

And with that brutal truth, my hopes died.

When he let go, all that was left for me to do was run.

Checkmate.

Part 4

White Moves First tag list:

@thelifeofsecretpenguins

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

#narnia #chronicles of narnia #edmund #edmund fanfic #edmund fanfiction #king edmund #king edmund the just #jealous #jealousy #arranged marriage #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #friends to lovers #chess

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kaerinio · 2 months ago

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daenerys' first language is high valyrian. when she was a baby, viserys would coo at her exclusively in valyrian, and ser willem darry ensured that her nurses and early tutors also interacted with her in both valyrian and the common tongue. her first words were valyrian, and as a girl, she would often converse with the servants at darry's estate and viserys in valyrian, including the various dialects of the free cities! typically, the only common tongue she would really use was with ser darry. and, following his death, valyrian remained her main form of communication; however, this changes, when viserys transforms into the beggar king. shortly after selling rhaella's crown, the final physical attachment to their targaryen identity, he begins to speak to dany only in the common tongue. you see, to him, he is a westerosi king, and in order to be westerosi, he decides that he (and dany) must speak the language of westeros: the common tongue, which is, as he would claim, "the language of civilized man." when dany attempts to speak valyrian with him in those initial days, she is met with hostility and harm, including viserys admonishing her valyrian, claiming that it is diminished, berating her accent, and telling her to speak in a way befitting of a targaryen princess (interesting). so, dany stops speaking valyrian with viserys altogether, and instead, she whispers this language, tasting of the house with the red door and what feels like home to her, with other children in bazaars and vendors and servants in the homes of could-be allies.

i should write a separate thing for this because i am incredibly fascinated by language and connection, and dany is certainly very attune with language, connection, and intimacy through communication !!! and i will but! as queen of meereen, dany speaks high valyrian, particularly a ghiscari dialect constructed of old ghiscari and valyrian, while conducting court and communicating with her subjects. during council meetings, she primarily communicates in high valyrian, as it is spoken and understood by all her councillors. with barristan, belwas, her bloodriders, and handmaids, she typically speaks the common tongue. among the dothraki (and when it is just her, her bloodriders, and handmaids), she speaks dothraki. when it comes to her dragons, she croons at them in high valyrian.

#abuse tw #;; smth smth viserys clinging to 'i am the dragon' because in truth he is more andal 👀👀👀#;; whereas dany finds comfort in her valyrian identity! in essos!#;; also??? viserys is a heavy adopter of respectability politics and language prejudice. he is also just *prejudiced* as we see during his #;; time among the dothraki which dany DESPISES about him #;; but anyways smth smth 'my speech may be tyroshi' ... one of dany's early nurses BEING TYROSHI #;; dany picking up her speech and viserys constantly telling her to quote-on-quote 'speak properly'#;; because as we can see . . . viserys *obsesses* over appearing like a westerosi prince and he projects it all onto dany as well oBSESSING #;; OVER HOW SHE APPEARS. HOW SHE SPEAKS. HOW SHE *PRESENTS* HERSELF . . . WHICH! DANY'S! PRESENTATION! IS! DEEPLY ESSOSI!!!!!#♕░░ a living fire to lighten the darkness ( HEADCANONS )

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labonaires · 2 years ago

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"duly noted." the werewolf replies with an awkward smile, turning to leave him alone to his thoughts. it seemed everyone in this city had an aversion to talking to people. "before i go, did i do something to piss you off?"

noticing memes. || @labonaires

"I thought I'd find you here."

"i come here to think, usually because i want to be undisturbed." which apparently doesn’t work. nevertheless, he decided to remain polite and did not ask what she wants.

#⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ writings. ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ howling into the abyss; bathed in moonlight.#⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ main. ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ a crown befitting a princess; bloodied maw of a she wolf.#deceptivemorals.#she's like....okay then !

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wisteriashouse · 2 years ago

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the crowned jewel.

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: royalty au; romance;

word count: 16021

a/n: this fic took me tf out lmao i hope you like it @hinokami-s

The renowned Sumiyuri Palace, crown jewel of the Sumihana Empire, is a breathtaking piece of art, an architectural marvel. Every pillar is carved of the finest marble from the Stonemount Duchy, accents crafted from solid gold and precious metal, expansive grounds covered by rare flowers and shrubs brought in by foreign dignitaries from across the oceans — the palace truly is befitting of its role as the official residence of the ruling family.

And yet, Archduke Rengoku Kyoujurou thinks to himself as he continues his long walk across these very expansive grounds, they could not think to construct the crown princess’ quarters a little closer to the main palace?

The Violet Lily Palace is located near the Southern wing of the palace grounds, furthest from the main gates. The Empress had said that the palace was constructed with the intention of allowing the frail Crown Princess more privacy, but Kyoujurou knows the truth.

Not aloud, of course. The Empress has eyes and ears everywhere in the palace.

Kyoujurou gives the knights standing station at the doors an affable smile as they greet him with firm bows, handing them his sword. He feels oddly vulnerable without its familiar weight at his side as he steps into the cool shade of the Violet Lily Palace, but it is proper etiquette that he must follow. To bear a weapon into a room with a royal would constitute treason of the highest order.

“Archduke Rengoku.” Kyoujurou looks up to see a familiar red headed figure descending the stairs, hair, shirt and trousers all impeccably straightened out and neat, as usual. “Her Ladyship did not mention that you would be coming by to visit today. If I had known you were coming, I would have made sure that the place was properly prepared to receive a guest.” His tone is cool, the corner of his mouth pulled down in an imperceptible sneer.

It’s clear that he did not expect and does not want the Archduke there, but Kyoujurou only laughs, the sound loud and strong in the quiet guest hall. “I am sure that the royal lodgings of Her Highness are more than fit to welcome a simple Archduke such as myself,” he says, making sure to keep his voice light. “There is no need for you to go out of your way to accommodate me, Hirata.”

The head butler’s amber eyes flick over him with what Kyoujurou can only describe as well concealed annoyance. “You are far too humble, Archduke.” After a moment, he relents and turns, gesturing for Kyoujurou with a gloved hand. “I will bring you to the drawing room and have refreshments prepared. The servants have already gone ahead to inform Her Highness of your arrival.”

“You have my gratitude.” Kyoujurou follows the man through the many grand hallways, glancing over the state of the place as he goes. Before he had started making these surprise visits to the Crown Princess’ estate, the condition of the Violet Lily Palace had shown a severe lack of housekeeping, not at all befitting a member of the royal family. It seems now that the servants are far more wary, Kyoujurou observes.

The two of them stop outside an arched mahogany door decorated with painted lilies of the valley. “Her Ladyship is already inside,” Hirata tells him, before he turns to knock lightly at the door with his knuckles. “Your Highness, Archduke Rengoku has arrived.”

“Send him in.”

The Crown Princess is seated at a lace covered table when Kyoujurou steps into the drawing room, half gazing out over the gardens with a porcelain teacup in one elegant hand. With the late morning sunlight filtering in through the massive, arched windows, Her Highness Sumiyuri Hayami indeed shines as the most beautiful jewel of the empire.

“Your Highness,” Kyoujurou puts a hand over his chest and bows, smiling slightly. “It’s a pleasure to see you. You look as beautiful as ever on this fine morning.”

The Crown Princess’ mouth lifts at the corners demurely, but that simple expression is enough to change her face from merely lovely to as radiant as the crimson dawn. At times such as this, she truly resembles her mother.

“You flatter me, Archduke.” She turns to her butler, who has been standing unobtrusively next to the door. “Hirata, you may leave now.”

“Your Highness, Her Imperial Majesty commanded me to attend to your every need—”

“Silence.” She quiets him with a cold stare. The quiet clink of porcelain on porcelain as she sets her teacup down speaks enough. “I would like to receive my visitor properly, and you are refusing your master’s orders, disgracing the royal family in front of one of the most noble Archdukes in the kingdom with your shameful behaviour.”

Hirata bows his head, mouth pulled into a thin line. “Apologies for my over-excessive enthusiasm, Your Highness. As per your command, I will take my leave now.”

It is only a few, long moments after the door has clicked shut that Kyoujurou turns to the Crown Princess, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “For a moment there, I truly thought you resembled the Empress, your Highness.”

“Don’t even make that joke.” The Crown Princess of the Sumihana Empire groans aloud, slumping over in the chair that she’s sitting at and the fingers of one hand pressed to her temples. “He’s been following me around for days now, unwilling to let me out of his sight. Why, if you had come only one day later, I think I might have gone properly insane.”

“Then it is fortunate that I chose to drop by today,” Kyoujurou laughs, amused by how fast she’d dropped the prim and proper act. Rarely is it that Kyoujurou gets to witness her whine and complain like a child. The fifteen year old child that she is supposed to be, he has to remind himself.

If her mother were to hear about her unbecoming behaviour, she would surely be whisked away faster than the blink of an eye.

Sumiyuri Hayami is fortunate that Kyoujurou has no love for the Empress of the Sumihana Empire. Or for any member of the ruling family, for that matter.

“And if I have to deal with those traitorous maids one more time, I think I might hurl in their faces myself.” It seems that the crown princess is not yet done with her little tirade. Archduke Rengoku Kyoujurou simply smiles, both hands clasped behind his back, mildly amused by this display.

“While it is better to let these feelings out rather than keep them in, it is not proper for a lady of your station to use such language, princess,” he reminds her, his deep chuckle reverberating in the spacious expanse of her drawing room.

Hayami curses, a vulgar word slipping between her lips before she catches herself with both hands clapped over her mouth. “Shit, sorry— what I mean to say is, apologies, Archduke Rengoku, I beg that you forgive my coarse language.” She lets out a bone weary sigh that makes Kyoujurou tired just listening to it. “It seems that I have yet to completely put ‘Hayato’ behind me.”

Sumiyui Hayato, the Crown Prince of the Sumihana Empire, the male twin of the princess sitting before him at this moment and the declared successor to the throne. Not only is he a swordsman renowned throughout the land, best known for his contributions in defending the Empire’s borders against the Demon Moon Kingdom, Sumiyuri Hayato also has a reputation for being notoriously elusive. It is said that it is easier to spot a ghost wandering the palace halls than to catch a glimpse of the Crown Prince.

Kyoujurou wonders just how the people, nobles and commoners alike, would react to the knowledge that their frail and sickly crown princess is also that very crown prince they gossip so much about.

Their frail and sickly crown princess who only attends tea parties and balls when she manages to put together the strength to leave her bed is the crown prince with the ability to cut through ten dark mages in one swing of his sword. Quite a mad deduction to make, Kyoujurou thinks.

And yet, he turned out to have stumbled across one of the biggest secrets of their Empire.

“I understand you, princess. There is no need to worry about offending me,” Kyoujurou reassures her, making sure to keep the tone of his voice kind and amicable. Princess Hayami often second guesses herself when it comes to recognising a joke or a teasing remark — a byproduct of her mother’s gaslighting for majority of her childhood, he supposes. “Still, it would be in your best interest to remember proper decorum. I would hate for you to make a mistake in the presence of the Empress.”

At his words, Hayami straightens up in the plush, velvet seat of the armchair she was reclining in, shifting uncomfortably as she does so. “But you do understand, do you not, Kyoujurou?”

Ah, his first name. The Crown Princess continues, sounding more desperate now. “I’ve told you of my mother’s plans to force me into the role of the Crown Prince for the rest of my life. My eighteenth birthday is but three years from present, and if my parents cannot find an orphan to assume Hayato’s identity, I will have no choice but to masquerade as a man for the rest of my life.”

She’s at the end of her rope, and Kyoujurou can’t help the pang of concern that runs through him. He’s watched her grow up since she was just a child, from a young princess to a graceful lady to a commander wielding a blood stained sword on the battlefield. He does not want to see the light in her eyes fade even more than they already have.

The spell to change her appearance to that of a man is no easy feat, and it is one that takes a heavy toll on her body. A simple glamour would often do the trick, but the Empress’ paranoia runs deeper than the waters of the Stillwater Dukedom. Every time Hayami leaves the castle for the battlefield, a team of imperial mages sworn to secrecy are called in to transfigure her completely with complicated, secret magicks. Voice, build, height, hair — it’s virtually impossible to tell that she is a woman after the spell is cast.

The physical transformation is painful, but the Empress spares no expense to keep her secrets, especially when she is not the one who has to bear the price. Still, to entertain the idea of using transfiguration magic for the rest of one’s life… Kyoujurou wasn’t sure that the Empress could stoop much lower than she already had, but well, she always manages to surprise him every time.

“I understand,” Kyoujurou repeats, letting his voice become more firm. “However, as powerful as my position as Archduke might be, it is not quite influential enough for me to help you the way you wish.”

“I am not asking you to rebel against my parents,” Hayami insists, her face crumpling like wet paper at his words. “I merely require some… assistance. I am not so selfish as to ask you to put your duchy on the line for my sake.” Rengoku’s brows pull together at that.

“A moment, princess.” He allows his magic to spill from his form, where it is usually contained with iron discipline, spreading it out around the two of them like a heavy blanket. It reaches every corner of the drawing room, through the curtains and the walls and windows, all the way out to the grounds of the building.

Hayami flinches when the heat of his magic rolls over her in waves, but otherwise keeps still. When he detects no other magical signature other than his own and the princess’, he allows the spell to dissipate, turning to Hayami.

“You should be more careful,” Rengoku warns, although not unkindly, “about speaking such words aloud so casually. You are already aware of your ladies’ loyalty to the Empress. A little more caution would do you good.”

The Crown Princess swallows, sinking deeper into the softness of her chair. “You have the mind and foresight of a war general both inside and outside the battlefield, Archduke,” she mutters with a shake of the head. “I would do well to learn that from you. Apologies for my foolishness.”

She looks trapped, suffocated. Kyoujurou does not like it.

“You do not need to apologise to me,” he repeats. Looking at the empty seat opposite her for a moment, Kyoujurou eventually sighs deeply before seating himself there, so that he can look the crown princess in the eye.

Hayami’s eyes widen as he does. This sort of behaviour is commonplace between the two when they are on the front lines, sitting side by side at the campfire and sitting close together to preserve warmth and body heat, but she is not used to this sort of behaviour as… herself. “Your Highness, what you must do is make up your mind instead of waiting for fate to make your choices for you. Whether you decide to rise to the throne as the Crown Princess or flee the palace, this is a choice that you yourself need to make, and your time is running out.”

The Archduke is right, as usual. Hayami knows that, and yet she has hesitated for so long already, blindly hoping that things might just somehow take a miraculous turn for the better. Neither choice she makes will be an easy one, of course. But as Rengoku had said, she must be the one to make a choice and act on it—

— or else, fate will be the one to decide it for her.

“I will take your words to heart.” Hayami pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. The more she thinks about this, the more her headache grows. Wanting to steer the topic to something else, she turns to Rengoku. “What about the matter we discussed the last time we conferred?”

At that, the Archduke’s face hardens slightly, but there’s an apologetic look in his eyes when he finally answers. “Senjurou is a hardworking child, but he has no talent with a blade and dealing with political opponents. To ask him to serve in the palace even knowing this… as his older brother, I cannot do such a thing.”

Hayami understands, but she also wants to put her hands in her face and scream. Instead, she busies herself with nibbling at the corner of a jam filled pastry. The sweetness of the treat manages to settle her nerves just a little.

Opposite her, Rengoku picks up a pastry, giving it a cursory glance before popping it into his mouth. “Delicious!” he declares.

Senjuru is a lovely, kind boy, and having him as her closest aide and confidant would remove a massive burden from her mind. Still, Rengoku is right once again, unfortunately this time. To bring that softhearted child into a pit crawling with vipers and snakes…

Only years of propriety ingrained into her help her resist the urge to run her fingers through her hair in frustration.

“However,” Rengoku begins, and Hayami’s head turns so quickly that she’s almost overcome by dizziness for a moment, “I would like to propose an… alternative, if you are willing to listen to it.”

“Of course.” Any sort of help at this point couldn’t hurt.

“I might be unwilling to send Senjurou into the palace, but I am able to adopt some children more suitable to palace life — children of good and suitable character — and place them under my care. With my position as the Archduke of the Flameheart Duchy, they would have enough status to enter the palace to support your position.”

Hayami considers this for a long moment, before a gasp escapes her. “That— that is a wonderful idea, Archduke! I never even considered adoption, but…” Her eyes are practically sparkling now, and Kyoujurou thinks that this might be the first time in a long while he’s seen her so excited about something. Truly, no powder or rouge could rival the beauty that hope brings to a person’s face. “With the backing of the Rengoku family, none of the other nobles, not even my mother, would be able to question their entrance into the palace. Rengoku, you’re amazing!”

The Archduke merely smiles, bowing his head. “Your humble subordinate is simply doing his job. There is no need for gratitude, your highness.” He rises to his feet, groaning lightly under his breath when the old injury at his side throbs with a phantom ache. “Then, your Highness, I’ll be heading off to find a child of suitable character.”

“You make it sound as though you’re going to search for apples at the town market,” Hayami smiles, but there’s a familiar furrow between her brows. Worry. “How do you intend to… determine a person of suitable character?”

Of course she would be concerned about this, and she has every right to be. The one who Rengoku brings into the palace will become the person who remains closest by Hayami’s side, her staunchest supporter and her greatest ally. It must feel terribly helpless, having to trust someone else’s judgement regarding something as important as this.

Still…

“This is something that you’ll have to trust me on, princess.” Rengoku glances back at her, an amused smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “Have I ever been wrong regarding such matters?”

That seems to be enough to allay her fears, because a quiet laugh escapes the crown princess. “I suppose not,” she says, her eyes softening when she looks at him. “Then, Kyoujurou, I’ll put this matter in your hands.”

The Archduke bows. “As you command, your Highness.”

At midday, the capital of the Sumihana Empire is buzzing with activity.

Merchants on horse drawn carts make their way down the cobblestone roads, a steady stream of traffic flowing towards the town centre. Shopkeepers and customers alike call out to one another, their voices stirring up the air with a lively atmosphere. And tucked in a quiet avenue of the town stands a little bakery with humble red shingled roofs, a sign bearing the words “Kamado Bakery” hanging outside its door…

“Nezuko, pass me that bag of powdered sugar, would you?” Kamado Tanjirou, possibly the youngest bakery owner in Sumihana and currently covered head to toe in flour, calls over his shoulder. “And please take the raspberry muffins out of the oven! I think they might turn black if they stay inside much longer!”

His younger sister sets a brown paper bag next to him before rushing over to one of the many iron ovens stacked up against the far wall. Heavy, clunky rectangles of metal that belch out smoke and glow red with heat from all the fired coal, these ovens have been in use ever since his great-great-grandfather first opened this bakery.

They’re named “Breath of the Fire God”, his father had told him jokingly, back when Tanjirou had first stepped into the kitchens and immediately shied away from the heat of the flames. If you eat enough baked pastries, you’ll be able to withstand the heat of the flames forever.

His father had then demonstrated the validity of this claim by immediately sticking both bare hands into the oven to pull out a baked treat, something that had caused young Tanjirou to burst into tears and his mother to smack her husband over the head with rebuke.

Don’t go putting any silly ideas into the children’s heads now. He still remembers the sound of his mother’s voice as though she had only spoken the words yesterday. More than the sound of her voice, he recalls the scent of her, of cinnamon and sweet jam and charcoal.

And the smell of blood, that seems to follow wherever tragedy strikes.

“Brother!” Tanjirou is startled out of his thoughts to see Nezuko looking at him, one hand cocked on her hip and the other busily dusting the flour from her apron. “Brother, what are you spacing out for? We need to get these orders ready before that secret lady’s maid comes to get them.”

“Right, right.” There is no time to dwell on these memories, especially not when there’s such a large order to be completed. Rushing over to the tray that Nezuko had just pulled out of the oven, he begins spreading a thick glaze over the tops with a brush. “She seems to have quite the penchant for round sweets, doesn’t she? Donuts the week before and now muffins. She even requested for her sandwiches to be cut into circles if possible.”

Nezuko snorts as she begins to measure out cups of blueberries. “I can only hope that she doesn’t eat all of these on her own,” she says honestly. “While they’re great business for the bakery, this amount of sugar would probably be enough to give a grown man a heart attack.”

This esteemed customer has been their mysterious benefactor for the past three years, whole purchases alone tided them over the painful period when the two siblings were still coming to terms with the deaths of their family. While other patrons had chosen to try out other bakeries instead, this patron had been adamant on only a specific desert from their bakery.

The knowledge that this patron simply would not relent had gotten Tanjirou to his feet and driven him to fire up the ovens once more. And three years later, well, here they are with the business bigger than it had ever been during the time of their parents.

Till this day, every week or other, a well dressed maid arrives at their bakery to place an order for sweets, and another comes by later in the day to pick them up. Tanjirou might not recognise the tailoring of their clothes (he’s friendly with almost every shop owner in the town), but he’s able to tell that the clothes are of fine make. The one behind these purchases must be a considerably wealthy person.

Although they have never come by in person before, he knows their tastes and preferences by heart now — they have a massive sweet tooth, enjoy flavours that lean towards fruity or floral, and have a strange penchant for circle shaped foods. It’s a little bit of an oddity, but Tanjirou finds it endearing, in a fond sort of way.

“Brother, we don’t have enough blueberries for the fruit jam,” Nezuko calls with a frown. Tanjirou glances over at the bowl, gauging the amount already inside — and Nezuko is right, of course. Her eyes are far better at estimation than his are.

“Old Man Saburo should have some blueberries that he can spare us,” Tanjirou says, beginning to pull off his apron. “He owes me a favour since I helped carry his goods up a hill this week.”

Nezuko gives him a dubious look as she scoops some sugar into the mixing bowl. “And you also dropped some of his eggs while doing it.”

Unfortunately, his younger sister is right. “He probably won’t be too cross if I explain the situation to him.” The elderly town grocer is infamous for his awful temper, lives alone about two streets down from the bakery and treats them as though they are his own grandchildren. His actual children and grandchildren had died in the same dark mage attack that had killed Tanjirou’s family. He’ll likely still throw a slipper at Tanjirou for cracking his eggs, anyhow. “I’ll go over to his shop right away. Watch the shop for me, alright?”

All in a day’s work, he supposes. Tanjirou is halfway out of the kitchens when Nezuko cries out after him.

“Brother, change out of your clothes first! You’re still covered in flour!”

He looks down at the front of his trousers in surprise.

“Ah.”

As most plans go, things are usually far easier said than done — things such as searching the empire for a child of both good and suitable character. While there are many children in the Sumihana Empire who are kind hearted, compassionate and empathetic, that is not enough for one to survive being thrust into the palace.

And Kyoujurou does not want to put such a burden upon someone who must struggle in the palace. He wants to find someone who can thrive among the wolves.

“Do you have something on your mind, Archduke?” Rengoku turns to look at the man next to him. Murata’s eyes meet his, frowning slightly as he adjusts his grip on the reins, his body swaying slightly with the movement of his steed. “You looked as though you were, uh, lost in your thoughts.”

Rengoku considers him for a moment. Murata is a good natured boy, decently talented with a blade and willing to work hard. Still, he has a tendency to be a little cowardly and freeze up in times of crisis, which makes him unsuitable for accompanying Hayami to the front lines as her guard. A low sigh escapes him as he shakes his head.

“Archduke?”

“It’s no significant matter.” He squeezes his thighs together, spurring his horse into a leisurely trot. The steed’s hooves clip clop rhythmically on the cobblestones, adding to the sounds of the bustling town. Murata frowns, clearly not convinced, but knows better than to press his superior for the issue. “Come, let us finish our patrol for the day and meet up with the rest of the men. It’s been a long day.”

“Yes, Archduke.”

The two of them continue on their patrol route through the town, nodding and greeting the townspeople as they go. Things had been tense in other regions after the recent dark mage attacks, but it seems that the mood in here remains relatively undisturbed, which is a strong indicator of how far fear of the Demon Moon Empire has progressed. It’s good that things are peaceful…

“Help!” Kyoujurou feels the waves of fear rolling through the air just seconds before the shrill, panicked cry breaks through the bustle. “Someone help!”

“Murata, on me.” He’s already turning his steed in the direction of the commotion as his subordinate scrambles to grab the reins. The horses (and the very recognisable Archduke) part the forming crowd easily, and Kyoujurou soon arrives at the scene with Murata right behind him.

He takes stock of the situation with a single glance. A young woman is on the ground, holding what seems to be a fresh bruise on her cheek with wet eyes, a woven basket and its contents spilled over the ground at her side. It must have been her cry that he heard.

In front of her, two men tussle on the ground. The one below is barking curses and flailing wildly, but the man — no, boy — straddling him has him firmly pinned to the ground by the hips. And he seems to be… lecturing him? “You can’t just attack women in broad daylight,” his voice is firm, his brows furrowed as the man under him continues to struggle. “If she’s turned down your advances, the proper thing for any decent man to do is to respect her wishes.”

Kyoujurou hides his snort of amusement with a polite cough. For a man to be pinned down and lectured by a boy probably half his age, in public no less… It must be humiliating. . He doesn't think this is quite the situation or time for a scolding, but the boy surely has caught his eye now.

The man under the boy snarls and starts to thrash more violently now, and Kyoujurou can see the boy straining to keep him under control. He begins to dismount, but at that moment, the violent man manages to break free from the boy’s grip.

Kyoujurou raises his hand, heat already flooding through his fingers, but before he can intervene, the boy only sighs in exasperation, before he leans back…

…and headbutts the man, hard.

The sound of two foreheads colliding rings out through the air, and Kyoujurou blinks, astounded, as the man slumps back to the ground, completely knocked out. Behind him, he hears Murata babbling, sounding just as surprised as he is.

“Did you just hear— oh, heavens above, how is that boy’s head not broken after a stunt like that?” Kyoujurou watches as the boy gets off the unconscious man without an ounce of shock, as though headbutting violent men twice his age is something he does on a regular basis, before moving over to return the fallen items to the basket and helping the woman up gently. She sniffs and thanks him profusely, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “His skull must be as thick as a rock, really—”

“Murata.” His subordinate cuts off his rambling at once, snapping to attention. “Have the man arrested and brought back to cells for harassment of citizens and disrupting the peace.”

“Yes, Archduke.” Murata is about to dismount when Kyoujurou adds on. “Do not mention that you are here with me. I’d like to have words with the young man.”

“The criminal, sir?”

“No, the boy, Murata.” Kyoujurou lets out a laugh of amusement and claps his subordinate on the shoulder, hurrying him along. As he’d thought, Murata would probably be eaten alive if he were to enter the palace. “Really…”

He watches unobtrusively from behind as Murata steps through the crowd, the crest on his uniform on proud display. A pair of magic cuffs around his wrists, and a stream of water summoned from a washerwoman’s tub nearby to lift the unconscious man into the air. “Everything is under control,” Murata announces loudly to the onlookers. “There is no need for any worry or panic.”

With the dramatics over, the crowd slowly begins to disperse. Kyoujurou, on the other hand, runs a hand along his horse’s mane and casts a cloaking spell over the two of them — a complex magic that completely diverts any attention in their direction away from them. Spell in place, Kyoujurou nudges his steed, who sets off at a calm trot.

The boy escorts the young woman back to what Kyoujurou deduces is her house, smiling brightly and waving before he sets off once more. Kyoujurou follows him from a distance the rest of the way, down the winding streets to one of the quieter avenues, where he steps through the door of one of the shophouses.

Kyoujurou gives the shophouse a cursory glance. The sign hanging above the door says “Kamado Bakery”.

When the boy does not exit after a few moments, Kyoujurou directs his magic into his ears, sharpening his hearing and tuning out all surrounding noise.

“... and there was this man who was trying to get a lady to go out with him, but he got all violent and angry when she refused!” The boy’s voice is surrounded by heat and flames — some sort of stove or oven, perhaps? — and he seems to be talking to someone else. “So I headbutted him.”

“You are so reckless, brother…” Another voice, distinctively female and sounding amused, replies. “And you still forgot to bring back the blueberries for the order!”

A pause, before he picks up a slight hint of embarrassment radiating outwards from within the shop. Kyoujurou dismounts his steed, brushing off his pants before striding over to the door. “Right, it completely slipped my mind. I’ll go get them right away—”

“No, no, I’ll go. Knowing you, you’ll probably forget them again playing hero or something to another victim in distress��”

Kyoujurou knocks at the door lightly.

“—a customer?”

“I’ll go and check it out—”

The door swings open.

The Archduke can’t be standing outside their door.

It must be another man with flaming red and yellow hair, a sword hanging from his hip and those blazing amber eyes who’s at the entrance of their humble bakery, because there is no way that that man is the Archduke of the Flameheart Duchy.

The Flameheart Duchy is one of the five major archduchies in the Sumihana Empire, alongside the Stillwater, Thunderclap, Stonemount and Whirlwind Duchies. A prominent bloodline in the Empire that has endured for generations, the Rengokus are second in authority and prestige only to the royal family. For its Archduke, of all people, to be here…

Yes, hallucination seems far more likely. She’s been inhaling too much fumes from the ovens, and needs a long extended vacation to the Stillwater Duchy — she’s heard many things about its beautiful, calming lakes.

Nezuko opens her mouth, closes it, stares at the door handle she’s holding — wondering if shutting the door would cause the hallucination to disappear, when the hallucination speaks.

“A pleasant day to you, young lady.” Even his voice sounds refined and polished, rich as mahogany and solid as cedar. “Might you be the owner of this bakery?”

A choked noise escapes Nezuko. The Archduke mercifully does not seem to mind her unintelligible response, instead smiling slightly down at her. “I’d like to purchase some bread, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Wouldn’t mind? If she wouldn’t mind? Who is she to mind?

“Of, uh, of course not.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and Nezuko craves the sweet release of death. Fortunately, she at least remembers to bow low when she ushers the Archduke in. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Make yourself at home? In the bakery? Before she can beat herself up over her choice of words, the Archduke has already stepped inside, glancing over the pastries on display. She cannot understand why the archduke of the Flameheart Duchy would choose to come to their humble bakery when there are so many more bigger, reputable bakeries in the capital. Their family bakery has the best baked goods in Nezuko’s completely unbiased, objective opinion, but their primary customers are the local townspeople, not archdukes!

She trails behind the Archduke wordlessly, as timid as a mouse. The tall man glances over the many breads, looking over the selection thoughtfully before he moves over to the pastry section.

He stops suddenly, and Nezuko’s heart drops into her stomach, nerves making her stomach go funny. “Do you make these yourself?” he asks, pointing at… a tray of round jam-filled pastries.

“N-no,” she manages to say, staring at the tray and wondering just why he had pointed that specific pastry out. Is there something that he finds unsatisfactory with the quality? Will the archduke report them to the authorities? Are they going to have to close the bakery? “My older brother bakes the sweets and desserts — I’m better with bread.”

“Ah, of course,” the Archduke smiles pleasantly at her. So they’re not in trouble after all? “It’s a beautiful bakery that you have here. Does it belong to your parents?”

“The rest of my family died in the dark mage attack three years ago.” The words drop from Nezuko’s mouth like stones. “It’s just my brother and I now.”

The Archduke’s gaze turns sympathetic. “I am very sorry to hear that. My apologies for bringing up painful memories.”

“No, no,” Nezuko shakes her head vigorously. “It’s nothing that you need to feel sorry about, your Grace—”

“Nezuko, what’s taking you so long?” Her brother calls from the kitchen, sounding completely unaware of just who he’s interrupting outside. “If you don’t get the blueberries now, we won’t be able to complete the order in time.”

The Archduke turns in the direction of the voice, before glancing at Nezuko with a smile. “Would you do me the favour of asking your brother to come here? I’d like to exchange some words with him, if he’s not too busy.”

Brother’s dead. The Archduke is going to cut off his head for interrupting him, and then she’ll have to figure out how to bake sweets on her own if she wants to keep the place running. Luckily, her older brother saves her from having to send him to his death… by walking to it of his own accord. “Nezuko, really, what are you doing that’s taking so long—”

He freezes upon seeing the Archduke in their bakery.

“A pleasant day to you,” the Archduke says lightly. Her brother stares at the man before him, hands frozen on the whisk and mixing bowl in his hands. Behind the Archduke, Nezuko flails her arms wildly in an attempt to catch her brother’s attention. Bow! Bow right now, he’s the Archduke, you absolute clown!

Her brother’s attention is not caught. Instead, he continues to gape at the Archduke until the man speaks again, smiling. He must be used to people going tongue tied around him. “What are your names, young man?”

Tanjirou fumbles to reply. “Kamado Tanjiru— I mean, Tanjirou, your Grace.” He gestures awkwardly at Nezuko. “That’s my younger sister, Nezuko.”

The Archduke nods thoughtfully at that, folding his arms across his chest. “Tanjirou, Nezuko,” he repeats, before he turns to Tanjirou. “Young Tanjirou, would you like to become the sole heir to the Flameheart Archduchy?”

The bowl in Tanjirou’s hands nearly goes clattering to the ground, but the Archduke catches it right before it can make a mess, setting the bowl on the counter before turning back to the two of them. Nezuko can’t help but think that this is all really just one big hallucination. “What do you think?”

“I uh, I’m, uhh…” Tanjirou manages, sounding as though his mind is somewhere far, far away, “but I err… need to buy blueberries. For this order. It’s a, uhh, really big order.”

The Archduke laughs, a warmth, rich sound that makes Nezuko’s gut turn in confusion. He doesn’t sound… upset, or as though he’s laughing in contempt at them for their response to his joke. Because this has to be… some sort of joke among the nobles, right?

“I will have the finest blueberries in the capital sent over from the palace in a moment to make up for your lost time,” Archduke Rengoku reassures, still smiling pleasantly. “About my proposition, however… would you be willing to consider it?”

“I, uh. Sure.” Tanjirou sets the whisk aside before he can drop that too. “But uh, if your Grace doesn’t mind me asking… why?”

The Archduke hesitates for a moment, the first expression of unsurety that Nezuko has seen him wear ever since he stepped into their bakery. “Well,” he begins slowly, careful not to mention the Crown Princess, “a very good friend of mine in the palace needs a person of good and reliable character that they can trust to serve as their aide. Due to most of the people within the palace already bearing existing loyalties, I came here to find such a person.”

“And you decided on me,” Nezuko’s brother says slowly, as though he’s still trying to wrap his head around all of this. “But if I may, uhh, ask, your Grace, I don’t see what this has to do with me becoming the sole heir of the Flameheart Duchy. I’m just a commoner.”

“Not if my father, Rengoku Shinjuro, adopts you,” the Archduke says very seriously. Rengoku Shinjuro, the previous Archduke of the Flameheart Duchy, adopting Tanjirou? “With that, you would be qualified to enter the palace and stand at Her H— my friend’s side.”

Tanjirou licks his lips, eyes darting left to right until they meet Nezuko’s. She tries to convey the idea that he should be jumping at the opportunity right now. If the Archduke is speaking the truth, this offer would be a chance like no other. When else would an archduke come to a humble bakery and offer to adopt a commoner?

Guessing from the hesitant, uneasy look on her brother’s face, however, Nezuko has the feeling that he’s about to do something stupid, which he does.

“I’m afraid that I have to refuse, your Grace,” he says, slow yet straightforward. “As the older brother, I have to stay and take care of my sister.”

Nezuko puts her head in her hands. What is he talking about? She can take perfectly good care of herself, thank you very much! The Archduke seems to share the sentiment that he is saying something ridiculous, because he laughs.

“Worry not,” Archduke Rengoku then says. “Of course I would not separate two such close knitted siblings. Nezuko will be adopted as well, educated as any of the other noble ladies, and a title will be conferred upon her. Should you agree to my proposition, of course.”

Nezuko’s eyes go wide at that. Educated as a noble lady… does that mean she will be able to wear the pretty dresses she’s only been able to read about in her novels, walk about in a luxurious estate, and attend romantic balls?

“I must warn the two of you, however,” the Archduke continues, “that the life in the palace is nothing like the fairy tales depict it. Political strife and underhanded sabotage tactics are common among some of the nobles, and you will need to learn to deal with such incidents. The training will be difficult, but I believe that the two of you will be able to overcome the challenges.”

Tanjirou hesitates, before he manages a firm nod. “Since you’ve chosen the two of us,” he says slowly, “I assume that you think that we are suitable. I’ll believe in your judgement, Your Grace.”

The Archduke smiles at that, before turning to Nezuko. “And if you do well in your training,” Archduke Rengoku adds, as though he can read her mind, “you will be able to enter the palace as well, as a lady-in-waiting.”

Nezuko turns to look at her older brother, eyes sparkling and her hands clasped. “Brother.”

Upon seeing the look on his sister’s face, Tanjirou holds back a smile, turning to the Archduke hesitantly. “Well then, if your Grace would be so kind…” The Archduke, however, holds up a hand to stop him. Nezuko and Tanjirou both look at him, immediately cautious. Is there some sort of twist to this offer?

“Since you will be my adopted siblings very soon, the two of you should get used to calling me older brother,” the Archduke — no, Kyoujurou — says, a lighthearted glint in his amber eyes as he gives Tanjirou a friendly clap on the shoulder.

Tanjirou splutters at that, while Nezuko beams in delight. “Older brother!” she says instantly. Kyoujurou laughs, amused by her eagerness.

“I see that you are a quick study,” he remarks, and Nezuko practically glows at the praise. “I’m sure that you’ll fit right into nobility in a matter of months.”

Tanjirou watches all this with a tentative smile on his face.

This is the beginning of a new life for them both.

More than a year passes before the Flameheart Archduke — no, Older Brother — declares Tanjirou and Nezuko finally ready to enter the palace.

For the entire duration of their training period, Kyoujurou had kept them completely hidden away in the confines of the Duchy. “I’d prefer for certain… people to keep their noses out of my Duchy’s business,” Kyoujurou had explained to Tanjirou when he’d asked.

His older brother has not yet revealed to him just who it was that he was adopted to protect, but there are only so many people in the palace who are of higher rank than an Archduke. Tanjirou feels butterflies fluttering in his stomach whenever he thinks about being the personal guard to a royal, but today, the butterflies feel more like a hive of angry hornets.

Today is the day that he is to be formally introduced into noble society, after all.

Tanjirou stands before the full length mirror in his chambers, tying, unfastening and then retying the silk cravat at his neck. He’s lost track of just how much time he’s spent going through the same motions, only to end up unsatisfied with the result. His favourite silk cravat is a misbehaving thing today, refusing to fall or fold in a satisfactory way.

He is going to meet his master for the first time today. Tanjirou cannot allow himself to give them a less than satisfactory impression, under any circumstance.

“Brother, if you delay any longer we’ll be late for our visit to the palace!” The doors to his chambers suddenly burst open, Nezuko striding inside in a flurry of pink and white skirts. “Don’t tell me that you’re getting cold feet now!”

“Don’t be silly, Nezuko,” Tanjirou sighs, studying the cravat at his neck once more. He’d pulled the knot a little too far to the left, and if he adjusts it now, the black and green squares that decorate the silk will not be aligned properly. His younger sister steps up next to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

The little strings of crystals twisted into her hair catch the light of the chandelier, her neck and ears adorned with perfectly round freshwater pearls. A gift delivered by the Stillwater Duchy’s Archduke Tomioka, upon hearing of Kyoujurou’s plans to introduce the two of them today. Tanjirou’s own gift sits at his hip, a beautifully crafted and lacquered scabbard furnished with mother-of-pearl lining.

“We’ll never make it to the palace if you keep on sighing like that,” Nezuko chides, and before he can answer, she plucks the cravat from his hand. Her fingers are quick and deft as they secure the green silk in place, and gentle when they tug to tighten the knot. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Tanjirou glances in the mirror again. For some reason, the cravat doesn’t look the least bit out of place now. Then again, Nezuko was always better at decorating the cakes in the bakery than he was.

He manages a smile, turning to Nezuko, who’s smiling brightly at him. “Thank you,” he says, reaching over to pick up his outer coat and shrug it on. The ironed and pressed fabric falls down to his knees, the cut of the dark green wool giving him a refined silhouette. It’s strange, looking at his own reflection like this. “Who would have ever thought that we would be dressed like this?”

Nezuko laughs behind him. “Surely not I, for one.” Reaching out, she tugs at his wrist, pulling her along with him. “Come now, this isn’t the time for nostalgia! It’s a wonderful and exciting day, so let’s get going!”

The two siblings make their way to the grand hall where the Archduke is waiting for them. Kyoujurou grins widely when he sees Tanjirou. “Why, you were taking so long that I thought that you had decided to run away!”

“That thought never even crossed my mind,” Tanjirou answers, knowing full well that the Flameheart Archduke is teasing him. The Archduke’s eyes run over the two of them standing side by side, then nods, looking pleased.

“The two of you would blend perfectly into high society right now,” he says approvingly, before his tone turns more professional. “Let us head for the palace.”

The carriage ride takes up the better part of the morning. Still, the distance feels too short when Tanjirou steps out of the carriage, nearly forgetting to help Nezuko out after him with how his nerves are thrumming with anticipation.

Two servants immediately rush up to greet them as Kyoujurou makes his way into the Sumihana Palace, Nezuko and Tanjirou flanking him. The luxury of the Flameheart Estate might have taken Tanjirou by surprise when he’d first stepped through its doors, but the opulence of the royal palace steals the air from his lungs. It nearly takes every ounce of self control in him to avoid craning his head around like a curious owl as they make their way through the palace.

At the end of yet another long, finely decorated hallway, they meet a young woman with striking pink hair the colour of Nezuko’s dress. Tanjirou instantly recognises her, having seen her around the Flameheart Duchy on occasion despite never having actually spoken to her in person.

“Oh, Archduke Kyoujurou! You have no idea how long I’ve been anticipating your arrival today,” the young lady gushes, laced skirts swishing about her gracefully as she hurries over to them, her cheeks radiant and eyes sparkling with excitement. “These must be your charges! They look absolutely lovely!”

“Kanroji, meet Tanjirou and Nezuko,” Kyoujurou nods at them both with a proud smile, “Tanjirou and Nezuko, this is Lady Mitsuri of the Kanroji of the Kanroji Marquessate as well as one of Her Highness the Princess’ ladies in waiting.”

“Lady Mitsuri,” Tanjirou reaches out to take her hand, pressing his lips against her gloved hand. Behind him, Nezuko dips into a graceful curtsy, lowering her head.

“It is my deepest pleasure to meet you, Lady Mitsuri.”

The lady in question giggles after Tanjirou releases her hand, pulling out a lace fan to cool her blushing cheeks. “My, my, haven’t you taught them exceptionally well, Kyoujurou?” The Archduke simply laughs at that, waving it off.

“It was all Senjurou’s tutoring that is to be praised — I myself am far from exemplary at etiquette.” Kyoujurou turns to Nezuko. “Nezuko, Lady Mitsuri here will be introducing you to Her Highness the Princess now. You can trust that you’re in good hands with her.”

Tanjirou catches his sister swallow slightly, but other than that, she maintains all the poise expected of a born and bred noble lady, nodding demurely in response. “I understand, Older Brother.”

“Good.” Tanjirou watches as his younger sister is escorted away by Lady Mitsuri, the older woman already beginning to chatter about the earrings that she’s wearing. “There is no need to worry.”

Tanjirou glances up to see Kyoujurou looking meaningfully at him, arms crossed over his chest and his expression relaxed. “Lady Mitsuri is a lady of fine character and has a hospitable and welcoming nature, not to mention a friend that I have fought with side by side in the demon wars. Nezuko will be fine with her, I assure you.”

Tanjirou nods slowly, grateful for Kyoujurou’s perceptiveness. “Thank you, Older Brother.”

“There is nothing to thank me for.” The Archduke reaches out to squeeze Tanjirou’s shoulder before steering him in the opposite direction. “Now, let’s go take a look at the Royal Barracks before it’s your turn to meet Her Highness.”

Nezuko follows Lady Mitsuri through the palace grounds to the Violet Lily Palace, which Lady Mitsuri tells her is the residence of the Crown Princess Sumiyuri Hayami. The place is stunning beyond compare, decorated with floral motifs of a great and numerous variety, but Nezuko finds it difficult to push down the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

She’d only seen the sickly Crown Princess once a few years ago, on one of the rare occasions when her Highness had left the palace to welcome her twin brother back from fighting the demon wars. Even then, sitting in a carriage and half hidden behind a veil of white lace, the Crown Princess had taken her breath away with her beauty.

There have been ballads, poems and songs spread in the local taverns ever since then about the Crown Princess’ enchanting looks, calling her the greatest and fairest beauty in the land, surpassing even that of the Demon Moons’ Enchantress, Daki.

Still, Nezuko had never paid them much mind — most of what the minstrels sang tended to be heavily exaggerated for the sake of performance. Regardless of how beautiful the princess might look, all of it will be worth nothing if she has an awful personality.

“We’re here.” Lost in her thoughts, Nezuko snaps out of her own head to realise that the two of them are standing before a door. The swallows and flowers are etched into the wood with gold, and Nezuko knows at once that the princess is on the other side of it. “Her Highness is inside, waiting to meet you. Go on in!”

Wetting her dry lips, Nezuko reaches out tentatively to grip the gilded door handle, careful not to be too loud as she pushes it open. The door swings open silently and upon stepping through the doorway, Nezuko is immediately greeted by the soft, subtle fragrance of chamomile tea.

Seated at the table, dainty and elegant, is a young woman with long platinum hair that spills down her back and soft, regal features. She reminds Nezuko of the porcelain dolls that the toymaker along her street would make sometimes, with pretty pink lips and beautiful, elaborately embroidered dresses. The portraits of the Crown Princess don’t do her beauty justice at all, Nezuko thinks.

“Greetings, Your Highness.” Nezuko’s knees tremble a little when she does her curtsy, and she desperately hopes that the Crown Princess does not notice when she straightens up once more. “My name is Kamado Nezuko, ward of Archduke Rengoku. It’s my honour to meet you.”

“It’s my pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Nezuko.” Even her voice sounds like the tinkling of wind chimes in the breeze. “I heard that you are to become my newest lady in waiting. I’m honoured that you would avail yourself for this position.”

“I-I—” She is honoured? Why, Nezuko is the one who is honoured to be accepted as one of the Crown Princess’ ladies in waiting! “The honour is all mine, Your Highness. I, um, permission to speak, Your Highness?”

The Crown Princess raises an eyebrow over the rim of her teacup, surprised, but acquiesces with a nod. “You are my lady-in-waiting now,” she says, “of course you may speak freely around me. In fact, I’d much rather prefer it if you do.”

Nezuko glances at Lady Mitsuri standing by her side, who nods encouragingly. Well, if Older Brother Kyoujurou had said that she was to be trusted, then she would put her faith in him. Slowly, she opens her mouth.

“Your Highness, you are so, so pretty,” Nezuko gushes instantly, her eyes wide with awe. “I’ve seen portraits of you before, but none of the painters did you any justice — you’re really like a fairy princess come to life! And your skin is so nice and smooth — I’ve been trying to get my own that clear for ages now, but I just can’t seem to figure out how. How do you do it, your Highness?”

The Crown Princess blinks at her, looking surprised — Nezuko is almost worried that she might have spoken a little too much out of line — but then Her Highness suddenly laughs. She sounds amused.

“Oh, Archduke Rengoku was right — you truly are an endearing child,” Crown Princess Hayami says. Lady Mitsuri laughs, nodding in agreement. “Well, how about I let you try out my skincare routine? You can see what works for you.”

Nezuko gasps. “You’d really let me do that, Your Highness?”

“You are my lady-in-waiting now, so it is only expected that you should become intimately familiar with my daily routine to serve me better.” There’s a spark of amusement in the Crown Princess’ soft lilac eyes. “And what better way is there to do that but to experience it yourself?”

Nezuko flushes with excitement, trying her best to contain her smile. It seems that she and the Crown Princess will get along very well.

Tanjirou’s introduction to the Crown Princess goes just as smoothly.

“When His Highness the Crown Prince Hayato leaves the palace for the warfront, you are to accompany him to fight on the frontlines,” Kyoujurou had explained, when the Archduke had first taken him in. ��However, in the time that he returns to the palace, you are to assume position next to Her Highness the Crown Princess Hayami as her personal guard.”

Never in his life would Tanjirou have thought that he would ever meet the Crown Princess of the Empire face to face, much less become her guard. Her Highness is infamous throughout the country for her otherworldly beauty, inherited from her mother the Empress, as well as her frail, sickly constitution.

Outside the door to her Highness’ drawing room, the Archduke pauses to look over his shoulder at Tanjirou. “You ready, Tanjirou?”

“I don’t think I ever will be,” Tanjirou answers honestly, adjusting his cravat. With nothing left for him to occupy himself with, he takes a deep breath and nods. “Let us enter.”

The Crown Princess is seated at a tea table, helping herself to a jam filled pastry when Tanjirou and Kyoujurou walk into the room. She glances up, hand pausing halfway to her mouth as though instinctively guilty for being caught eating, before she realises who it is.

“Archduke Rengoku,” she says, holding out her hand so that Kyoujurou can kiss it, which he does with all the refinement of a seasoned gentleman. Her pale, lilac eyes slide over to rest on Tanjirou, and Tanjirou is overcome by the urge to avert his own, although he manages to resist it. That gaze feels as though it is peering into his very soul. “And this is…?”

“Your Highness, this is Kamado Tanjirou, one of the charges that I have taken into my house.” Kyoujurou clasps his shoulder firmly, urging him forward. “Tanjirou, this is Her Highness the Crown Princess, Sumiyuri Hayami.”

“An honour to meet you, Your Highness.” Tanjirou bows his head as he takes the princess’ hand, pressing his lips lightly against her silk glove. The subtle scent of fresh jasmine, rose and petrichor cling to her clothes and skin. Has she just been out in a flower garden?

“As it is mine.” Pleasantries exchanged, the two of them simply… look at each other for a moment before glancing away. Tanjirou’s heart is pounding just a little too hard in his chest. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

Ever the perceptive man, Kyoujurou glances between the two, and, sufficiently amused by their mutual awkwardness, decides to remove himself. “I’ll be heading out first, Your Highness,” he tells the crown princess, who nods somewhat reluctantly. “Pardon me.” With that, he’s gone, leaving nary a laugh behind him as he goes.

And then, the two of them are left alone.

Tanjirou glances at the princess out of the corner of his eye, too awkward to initiate a conversation. Her long, platinum hair falls all the way down to her hips, pulled back in a thick braid reminiscent of Lady Mitsuri’s — her handiwork, perhaps? — and styled with an amethyst clasp that sparkles in the sunlight, the precious stone the size of a babe’s fist.

Still, after meeting the Crown Princess face to face, Tanjirou does not quite understand what is so frail about Her Highness. He’d heard multiple times that Crown Princess Sumiyuri Hayami has a weak body and poor constitution, but the beautiful, radiant young lady before him does not seem frail in any sense of the word. In fact, she seems to be glowing with energy.

“You are to become my personal guard for as long as my brother is in the palace,” Tanjirou’s head snaps up at the Crown Princess’ softly spoken words, “is that right, Sir Tanjirou?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

At that, she smiles for the first time — at him — and Tanjirou fights the urge to duck his head down immediately once more. “Would you take a seat opposite me, then? I’d like to get to know the man who will be guarding my life properly, and we can start by having afternoon tea together.”

“Oh, there’s no need for your kind consideration, Your Highness,” Tanjirou rushes to reassure her. He and the Crown Princess of the Sumihana Empire sitting at the same table, having tea and snacks? His past self would have fainted upon hearing such a thing. “I am perfectly alright with remaining at a standing position by your side.”

“So you mean to tell me that you desire to refuse my order?”

Tanjirou nearly chokes. “No, of course not, Your Highness!” At his response, the Crown Princess lets out a laugh, raising a silk gloved hand to stifle the sound. Tanjirou thinks it’s a pity that high society demands for such reservedness. The Crown Princess’ laughter sounds like music to his ears. “If it would please you, then I would like nothing more than to join you.”

She smiles at him then. “It would please me.” And so, Tanjirou finds himself sitting at the table with the Crown Princess, three perfectly macarons placed on his china plate. “I hope you enjoy sweets, Sir Tanjirou.”

“I do.” Tanjirou can’t quite tell her that he used to be a baker, so he accepts them graciously. “Thank you, Your Highness.” The Crown Princess looks at him with a flash of amusement in her soft lilac eyes.

“You can tone it down with the formalities, Sir Tanjirou,” she tells him, a playful lilt to her voice. “Your Highness sounds so stifling… You can simply call me Princess Hayami, if you’d like.”

For the second time that day, Tanjirou nearly chokes on a bite of macaron. Coughing as the sweetness floods his mouth, he reaches for the napkin as he shakes his head desperately. “I couldn’t possibly, Your Highness,” he says in alarm. “Doing so would be terribly rude, especially from a lowly one such as myself—”

He pauses for a moment. Well, since the Archduke of the Flameheart Duchy did adopt them into his family, Tanjirou would technically be considered as a member of high nobility now.

“Truly?” The Crown Princess remarks, looking surprised. “Not even when you are one of the few men in this entire Empire with the status to ask for my hand in marriage?”

Tanjirou momentarily wonders if the Crown Princess dislikes him after all, because she seems to be trying to get rid of him today by getting him to choke. Mind painfully blank and his tongue thick in his mouth, Tanjirou reaches for the steaming pot straight off the brazier without thinking, intending to pour himself a cup of tea to calm his frazzled nerves.

“Oh, Sir Tanjirou, you must not touch the pot with your bare hands—” The Crown Princess begins to cry out, her voice sharp with concern, but her words trail off when she realises that Tanjirou is not at all affected by the heat. She pulls out a fan when she seats herself once again, looking embarrassed. “I did forget for a moment there that you are a member of the Flameheart Duchy.”

The Rengoku bloodline — and the Flameheart Duchy, by extension — are famed far and wide for producing the finest fire-wielding mages in the Empire, generation after generation. That had been one of the other reasons why the Archduke had decided to take him and Nezuko in, after realising that the two of them had innate talent for similar magic.

“I apologise for startling you, Your Highness,” Tanjirou says gently, setting the pot back down after filling his own cup. “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine, other than my pride.” She tugs at the end of her long braid, looking slightly awkward — her expression tugging at Tanjirou’s heartstrings, and he’s just met the Princess today! — before glancing to the side. “Well, I suppose that the two of us are getting to know each other, just as I’d hoped, so I cannot make a fuss about it.”

Tanjirou feels his heartbeat pick up at her words, but has to quickly remind himself that he is here to be her guard, and imagining anything more will do him no good. “I, too, am looking forward to knowing more about you, Your Highness.”

The Crown Princess smiles at him, and Tanjirou instantly knows that he is doomed for failure.

The Crown Princess loves the flower gardens, Tanjirou learns after a week in her service. Sometimes he worries that she might be too frail and run into some sort of mishap outside, but Her Highness hasn’t had such an incident yet. “Besides, taking walks outside and enjoying the sunlight would be better for me than being cooped up in my chambers all day,” she’d insisted, and well, who is Tanjirou to disobey the Crown Princess?

“Some of the flowers here are planted by my own hand,” she tells Tanjirou conspiratorially on one such walk through the rose gardens. “When I was younger, my mother wasn’t fond of me leaving my chambers, so I would have to sneak out to tend to the plants that I’d seeded. Look at these,” she points to a set of beautiful trellises leaning against the wall in the shape of honeycombs, “I told the head gardener that I wanted to grow some sweet peas so he had these made for me, but in truth I used it as a ladder to sneak out of my bedroom at night.”

Tanjirou stifles a laugh behind his hand. “You seem to have been quite the spirited rule breaker when you were younger, Your Highness.”

She’s dressed in a light, cream coloured dress today, her layered skirts floating about her ankles like the morning mist. Her hair is pulled up into a simple french twist today, kept in place by several gold hairpins with jewelled flowers. As he watches, the Crown Princess plucks a small white daisy from the grass and tucks it into her hair.

“I don’t deny that. I also used to sneak out of my chambers when my cousin’s tea parties were happening.” Princess Hayami continues to make her way through the gardens, Tanjirou following closely behind her. When they reach the red brick wall that makes up the perimeter of the Crown Princess’ residence, she reaches for one of the bushes lining the wall and tugs it away — revealing a cleverly concealed hole behind it. “If you go through this and follow the path on the other side, it would take you straight to the Water Lily Garden. I did this for ages until the head butler caught me with my muddy knees.”

Tanjirou is quiet for a moment. For all the childhood memories she’s described to him thus far, it seems that her direct family — father, mother and twin brother — are all absent from her life. The Emperor is negligent while the Empress never shows any concern, and her brother… The entire time Tanjirou has been by the Crown Princess’ side, Crown Prince Hayato has not visited his sister’s residence even once.

Tanjirou cannot imagine ever treating his own sister, Nezuko, this way.

“Sir Tanjirou?” The Crown Princess leans down to frown at him, confused by his sudden silence. “Sir Tanjirou, are you feeling unwell, perhaps?”

He immediately shakes his head. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you that I am alright, Your Highness.” At his answer, Princess Hayami hums contemplatively, twirling the stem of a flower between her slender fingers before she lights up visibly.

“Let us sneak through into the Water Lily Garden,” the Crown Princess suggests all of a sudden.

Tanjirou blinks at her, caught by surprise. “Your Highness, you are no longer restricted by Her Majesty the Empress — you are free to go anywhere you’d like in the palace. We can simply walk over to the Water Lily Garden if you’d like.” The princess shakes her head at him, a playful smile curling at the corner of her painted lips.

“It’s not about the destination, Sir Tanjirou, it’s about sneaking out,” she tells him, and before he can say anything else, is already squeezing herself through the small opening in the wall. Tanjirou stares in open mouthed shock as the Crown Princess of the Empire disappears from his sight, before a pale hand sticks itself back through the hole, gesturing for him to follow. “Hurry and come through! And make sure to cover the hole behind you!”

Unable to disobey his master’s orders, Tanjirou glances around, desperately hoping that no one is looking, before squeezing himself through the hole as well. The top of his head almost brushes the circumference of the hole and he nearly forgets to tug the false bush back into place after him, but he still manages to make it safely out on the other side.

“Follow me,” the Crown Princess says excitedly, taking Tanjirou by the sleeve of his coat. Together, the two of them make their way down a little dirt path that winds through walls of thick hedges. “This is a hedge maze near the Water Lily Garden,” she explains as she navigates them through the confusing paths. “I memorised the way out with how often I came through here. If we hurry, we might be able to catch one of my cousin’s tea parties happening right now.”

She does make one or two wrong turns, but always rectifies her error almost immediately — Tanjirou’s nose can already begin to pick up the scent of water lilies and high tea. All this time, her fingers remain tightly grasping onto his sleeve, as though worried that he might get lost if she lets go.

The two of them eventually emerge from the hedge maze, sparrows and butterflies fluttering about. A distance away, Tanjirou can see a high tea party ongoing, with several noble ladies seated at a gazebo situated in the middle of a crystal clear lake. The hum of their idle chatter drifts across its surface, dotted with pink water lilies, to reach the two of them.

“It’s as you said, Your Highness,” Tanjirou nods, brushing a stray leaf from his shoulder. “Lady Kagami is indeed having a tea party at the moment. Shall we head over to join them?”

The Crown Princess, however, only stares at the tea party happening on the lake — a picturesque scene straight out of a fairy tale, with beautiful ladies and laughter and tea and cakes all around — before she turns back to Tanjirou with a slight, more… bittersweet smile on her face. “This is enough,” she says quietly, still smiling. “This is what I used to do — watch from a distance. The Empress didn’t like me interacting with too many of the noble ladies from lesser houses, and I wouldn’t know what to do now even if I wanted to participate in one.”

Tanjirou frowns openly at that. “Nearly all of the houses in the Empire are beneath the Royal family. Does this mean that you’ve never had the opportunity to experience one?” The Crown Princess nods, before she turns away. “Come now, we should return to the Violet Lily Palace before Head Butler Hirata catches us. He’d be delighted to have any opportunity to report me to my mother.”

“Understood, Your Highness.” Tanjirou holds out his arm to Princess Hayami. She looks down at it with surprise, before it melts into a smile.

“Let us be on our way then, Sir Tanjirou,” she says, and the two of them make their way back through the hedge maze, through the little hole in the wall and up the honeycomb trellis — for nostalgia’s sake, the princess says. And when he waves her farewell from the garden, Tanjirou’s mind is already whirling with a hundred different ideas �� and only one mission that he must achieve.

A few days later, Tanjirou greets the Crown Princess in the late morning just as he always does, except this time, he extends his arm to her once more, just as he had that day in the hedge maze. “I am to escort you to the rose gardens, Your Highness.”

Hayami frowns, a little at a loss and vaguely confused. She does not remember having anything scheduled for today, but in the short time she has known Tanjirou, she has learnt that he is detailed and diligent and far less forgetful than she is — so she simply takes his arm and allows him to escort her down to the rose gardens.

“Remind me, Sir Tanjirou,” she phrases her question carefully, “who am I meeting again today?”

To her surprise, however, her usually-steadfast guard simply answers with “You’ll see soon, Your Highness.” Hayami doesn’t know just what he’s being so evasive for today, but it doesn’t make her feel any less nervous about this meeting. Is it Sir Agatsuma once again? There had been a period when he’d relentlessly tried to pursue her, but that time is long over — or at least, that’s what Hayami had thought.

She’s still fretting over this when the two of them reach the rose gardens. It’s a beautiful day to be out, the warmth of the late morning sun punctuated ever so often by a gentle breeze and jewel butterflies fluttering through the air.

One thing that stands out in the middle of her familiar rose gardens, however, is a small white tea table and a matching chair situated under the shade of a large oak tree. An assortment of baked treats sit atop the table — macarons, jam-filled pastries and little cupcakes — alongside a porcelain tea set, already steeping tea if the subtle jasmine scent in the air is anything to go by.

And there is no one there but the two of them.

Before Hayami can ask Sir Tanjirou what this is all about, her guard speaks up first. “I recalled that you mentioned not having attended a tea party before.” His voice is hesitant, as though not too sure whether she would be pleased with him for organising this. As if him going out of his way to create such a lovely experience for her could ever displease her! “So I procured some snacks suitable for an afternoon tea and had this set up—”

“It— It’s lovely, Tanjirou— words cannot express how much I love this. Thank you so much, truly.” Hayami cannot remember a time when someone other than Archduke Rengoku, her trusted ladies-in-waiting, or her cousin had done something like this for her. And the two of them have only known each other for less than a month. “If there’s anything that you’d like as a reward, anything at all—” But Sir Tanjirou shakes his head immediately.

“There would be no greater reward than for you to enjoy the snacks and tea that I have prepared,” he says, pulling out the chair and indicating for her to sit. “Your Highness.”

Hayami takes a seat, staring wide eyed at the spread of delicacies spread out over the table. All of them look delicious, absolutely appetising — and for some reason, oddly familiar. Picking up a blueberry jam pastry, she carefully places it in her mouth.

Both berry tartness and sugary sweetness burst across her tongue. The flaky pastry is buttery and light, just the way she likes it — and just the way she remembers it, from the bakery that her maids had always purchased her snacks from. Although she had never visited it in person, the pastries made there always somehow managed to convey the warmth of home, something Hayami could never quite find anywhere else. The establishment had closed down one year ago, much to Hayami’s dismay, about the same time that…

… about the same time that Hayami and Kyoujurou had their conversation about adoption.

“Oh,” Hayami says suddenly, realising too many things at once. “Oh.”

Sir Tanjirou glances up from where he’s carefully pouring her a cup of tea. “Your Highness?”

“No, the pastries are just really, really good.” She nods, taking another bite. “Where did you get these, Sir Tanjirou?”

He looks a little awkward at that question, shifting on his feet. “Well, Your Highness, I hope that you don’t tell anyone but… I have a secret hobby of baking. I apologise if they might not compare to the standards of the royal baker or confectioner.”

“So you made all these treats by yourself?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Hayami laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. Kyoujurou had told her that he’d adopted peasant children into his family, but the topic of what they had been doing before that adoption had never come up in conversation. She feels as though she has found her runaway baker at last. This sweet man with steady hands and a warm heart that took care of her so gently — perhaps, it wouldn’t be too bad to be married to someone like him?

“I’ll keep your secret on one condition,” she hums, pretending to consider it. “If you allow me to taste your sweets whenever you happen to make them.”

Sir Tanjirou looks at her, surprised, before he smiles slightly. “Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”

One week later, Tanjirou accompanies Hayami to a fitting done by the Royal Tailor, who flits around waving all sorts of fabrics, ribbons and sashes everywhere while commanding a small army of assistants. From the sidelines, Tanjirou thinks all of them resemble ants scurrying over a hot surface — chaotic yet organised, in an artistic sort of way.

The Crown Princess stands in the middle of this whirlwind, perfectly still and poised as a life sized mannequin even when the tailors poke and prod her. There is a ball coming up in a few days to celebrate the Empire’s recent victories against the Demon Moon Kingdom, and as the Crown Princess, his master must of course attend.

Her twin brother, on the other hand, had sent word that he would be too busy training — and so had deigned not to attend. Now, Tanjirou has yet to meet the man that he would fighting side by side on the front lines with, and neither does he like to form impressions of people before he’s met them personally, but at the moment, he has quite some choice words that he’d like to convey to Crown Prince Sumiyuri Hayato, one day.

“Oh, I cannot tell whether the lilac silk or burgundy satin will look better on you, Your Highness,” the tailor frets, shaking her head. The spectacles that she had been wearing earlier now sit on top of her head, lopsided. She looks extremely frazzled. “Deeper colours have been in the trend lately, but lilac suits your skin so well…”

“I’ll try on both,” the Crown Princess says. Almost immediately she is whisked away behind the changing curtains, and Tanjirou awkwardly averts his gaze as he’s left alone in the fitting room. Even when he had accompanied Nezuko to get dresses made, he doesn’t remember them being this exhausting.

“Sir Tanjirou?”

Tanjirou is roused from his own musings when he hears the Crown Princess call for him. When he lifts his head, he sees her step out from behind the changing curtain, adjusting the satin sash cinching in her waist. The pale lilac silk has a light, silvery sheen much like her striking hair, and under the light of the chandelier she very nearly glows with a gentle sheen. She gives him a smile, one that threatens to steal the air from his very lungs. “How does this look on me?”

“It’s—” You are— “beautiful—” breathtaking— “Your Highness,” he manages to make out without tripping over his own words. As lacking as his words are, his master seems pleased by his answer.

“Let’s go with lilac,” the Crown Princess decides quickly, and then there are a flurry of other options such as sashes, adornments and accessories. By the time her Highness has picked out the right hairpins, earrings and gloves, the sun outside the window is already starting to set.

He brings her a glazed donut when she finally slumps onto the velvet couch, completely drained. Tanjirou barely has the chance to say “You must be hungry—” before she’s already reaching out for it.

He stifles a laugh and hands it over obediently. “I’ll get you a cup of tea as well, Your Highness.”

“No, no,” the princess shakes her head as she chews on her donut, looking blissed out at the taste. “You need to go for your fitting now.”

Tanjirou looks confused. “Your Highness, I’m not particularly in the habit of wearing ball gowns—” She laughs at that.

“Not ball gowns, silly. A suit. A tailored one, specifically.” She tilts her head to the side to look at him, long platinum hair slipping over her shoulder. “Did you forget that you would be attending this ball by my side? You are my personal guard now, after all.”

He had forgotten completely about that, unfortunately. “Of course not. But surely I wouldn’t need a new suit as a guard? All the attention should be on you, Your Highness.”

Princess Hayami sighs, leaning against the velvet seat. “You could be the most handsome man in the entire Empire and still far too much attention would be on me,” she laments with a shake of the head. “Besides, you must have a tailored suit, at the very least to look presentable for the opening dance.”

“Opening dance?” Tanjirou feels awfully silly with all his questions. “Will I be participating in the opening dance?”

The Crown Princess looks at him with a frown. “Does Sir Tanjirou not like the idea of sharing a dance with me?” So he was supposed to dance with the Crown Princess at the celebratory ball? Older Brother Kyoujurou hadn’t mentioned this to him at all!

“Of course not, Your Highness,” he says quickly, trying to remedy this. “I would love to dance with you, it would be a great honour.”

The Crown Princess’ frown vanishes in an instant, replaced by a playful smile that throws Tanjirou completely off guard. “Is that so? Then perhaps you should ask me for a dance, Sir Tanjirou.”

Wait, so he wasn’t meant to dance with the Crown Princess? He looks at her, finding himself at a loss, and watches her stifle a giggle behind her hand. “You are having fun at my expense, Your Highness.”

“Apologies,” she says, but she can’t quite keep the amused tone out of her voice. “Still, I was being serious earlier. Do you wish to dance with me? I have no desire to force you to do something you do not want to.”

“That’s not it at all,” Tanjirou insists. “I would be honoured to dance with you.” He takes a deep breath, before bowing his head to her. “Would you give me the honour of being able to dance with you at the celebratory ball, Your Highness?”

She looks very pleased at that. “Of course I would. You can’t back out now, Sir Tanjirou.”

The rest of the fitting goes without a hitch, with the Crown Princess making him model what had seemed to be the entire menswear collection the tailor had on hand. She does personally pick out a sleek linen olive green suit for him and matching cufflinks after all that, and from the happy smile on her face, she seems to have enjoyed herself thoroughly.

The Royal Tailor bows to the Crown Princess on her way out. “Year after year, you grow lovelier and lovelier, Your Highness,” she says approvingly. “I’m sure that you will be the fairest in the Empire soon — you resemble the younger Empress so much already, you’ll surely look more like her when you grow older.”

The change in Princess Hayami’s expression is almost inscrutable, but Tanjirou catches the way her smile turns ever so slightly brittle, like pottery on the verge of shattering. “Thank you for such a lovely compliment, Royal Tailor,” she says, “ but I’m afraid I will never surpass my mother in terms of beauty. She’s far too beautiful.”

Tanjirou catches her staring into one of the floor length mirrors when he returns from escorting the Royal Tailor out, prodding lightly at her face and tugging at her hair. She’s used a spare clip from the fitting room to pin her hair up, so that the silvery platinum strands frame her face the same way Her Majesty the Empress’ does — and from the expression on her face, she doesn’t seem to like the results.

“Your Highness?” Tanjirou calls gently, careful not to agitate her. “We can leave now for dinner, if you’d like—”

“Sir Tanjirou,” the princess interrupts, sounding uncharacteristically serious, still staring at her own reflection in the mirror, “do you think that I look like my mother?”

His mouth goes a little dry at that. As someone who’s had the privilege of remaining by the Crown Princess’ side for the past month, it’s easy to see that there’s no love lost between mother and daughter. Besides, from the little bits and pieces he’s picked up from the interactions between Older Brother Kyoujurou and the Crown Princess, it’s clear that neither of them think very highly of the Empress.

Still, Tanjirou does not want to lie to Her Highness — she would be able to tell, either way.

“Your hair and features strongly resembles Her Majesty the Empress,” Tanjirou says slowly — and catches sight of the Crown Princess’ brows pinching together in a frown. She looks… troubled. “Still, I think that the two of you are very different in many ways, if people know where to look.”

The princess turns to look at him. “Different? In what ways?”

Tanjirou licks his lips nervously. “Well, first of all, Your Highness’ eyes are a lot softer than Her Majesty the Empress’. Her brows are often arched and sharp and her expression… stern, while the Crown Princess has a gentle but firm gaze.”

The Crown Princess nods slowly at that, considering his words carefully. “Go on.”

“Secondly, Her Majesty the Empress has thinner lips that tend to be pulled into a line. Your Highness has softer and fuller lips that curve upwards slightly, even when you are trying not to smile.”

Her lips pull into that very smile that he was just describing, a cupid’s bow loosening an arrow that goes straight to. “You’ve been spending a great deal of time paying attention to my lips, haven’t you, Sir Tanjirou?”

“I—” He begins to protest, then promptly gives up trying to explain himself. “Yes, I have, Your Highness. As your guard, it is my responsibility to notice everything about you.”

Her mouth curls into a proper smile now. “And you always do your job to the utmost standard,” she hums lightly. Turning back to glance in the mirror, she sighs before pulling the clip from her hair, allowing the long platinum strands to tumble down her back in a long, silvery waterfall. “Truly, Sir Tanjirou… I like to think that in my heart, I am a damsel in distress in need of a Prince Charming to come save me, but when I look in the mirror, all I can see is an evil queen who is unworthy of true love and genuine kindness. I would… I do not like to be compared to my mother. Ever. In any way at all.”

Tanjirou remains quiet for a while. “I cannot… provide you with a Prince Charming on a white steed, like the fairytales describe,” he says honestly, when he speaks at last. “But I think that Your Highness will be able to change the way people view her, as well as the way she views herself, with her own efforts and merits. And this lowly guard will be by your side all the way, should you desire it.”

The Crown Princess takes a moment to ruminate over his words. And then suddenly she smiles, dazzling, as bright as the sunrise, and for the first time, Tanjirou feels his heart twist in his chest — not a simple skip, nor just a quickening of its beat — but a physical ache that he doesn’t quite recognise nor know how to handle.

All he does know, however, is that he has made a vow — and that he would gladly lay down his life for the woman before him.

They don’t make it to the ball.

About one week before the celebratory ball is to happen, the Crown Princess gets poisoned — in her own palace, in her own drawing room. During teatime, the head maid Rin Sunada delivers a tray of snacks and tea, which Tanjirou would watch Her Highness eat as the two of them talk of the garden’s flowers and the latest gossip Tanjirou has picked up from the palace grounds. It’s a simple, ordinary routine that Tanjirou has long gotten used to, enjoying her company and the snacks she occasionally manages to convince him to try — which might explain why he’s stunned into stillness when he catches sight of crimson dotting the corner of the Crown Princess’ mouth.

“Your Highness!” He says urgently, and when she does not respond immediately, a cold tendril of fear wraps itself around his heart and yanks hard, constricting the air in his lungs. Instead, she presses a delicate hand to her chest — the hand that he’d just kissed this morning in greeting — and coughs, a choking, breathless, wheezing sound.

And blood spills from her mouth.

“Your Highness!”

Only his trained reflexes allow him to catch the Crown Princess falling from her seat before she can hit the floor. She lies in his arms like a broken doll, unresponsive, eyes half lidded and lips stained red. “Your Highness, please respond! Your Highness! Hayami!”

Still she does not respond, and Tanjirou shouts himself hoarse for a physician. The servants tell him that it will take some time for the physicians to arrive, so he snaps for them to move aside, puts the Crown Princess on his back, and promptly runs all the way to the medical wing.

The entire situation feels like a dream of some sort, his mind covered by a thick fog and his memories of the incident blurry, but when he finally connects with reality once more he’s standing next to Her Highness’ bed with an aching throat and his hands balled into tight fists. There’s a heavy, reassuring warmth on his shoulder, and when he glances up, Older Brother Kyoujurou is standing next to him, eyes hard as he looks down at the bed the Crown Princess is resting in.

“Who did it?” Tanjirou barely recognises his voice with how sharp and flat it is. The room is empty aside from the two of them. Nezuko had been in here earlier with the Princess’ other ladies in waiting, but had to be escorted out with how badly she was crying from the fright. “You must have some clue as to who the culprit is.”

“I do,” Older Brother Kyoujurou says, an answer so straightforward that Tanjirou is taken by surprise. “I know exactly who did it, and so does the Crown Princess.”

Tanjirou frowns at that. “Then why are we not taking action immediately, Older Brother? With an enemy who could slip poison into the palace and past all of the Crown Princess’ maids… surely she will continue to be in danger if we don’t eliminate such a large threat.”

The Archduke sighs, rubbing his temples before shaking his head. “You will not bring this matter up outside of this room, Tanjirou,” he says sternly. When Tanjirou begins to protest, he cuts in sharply. “I’m sure that you already know that this isn’t an uncommon occurrence for Her Highness.”

“Of course,” Tanjirou hesitates, turning back to the bed that the princess is lying in. Her eyes are closed, her breathing slow, and her skin so pale it almost appears translucent — for a moment, she truly seemed more akin to a porcelain doll than a live human. “Both she and you explained to me that she had many enemies… but surely eliminating one is still beneficial towards her safety?”

His adopted brother glances over his shoulder, and Tanjirou immediately feels the slightest burst of heat erupting from the Archduke’s form — so subtle it can barely be detected, even for someone who is intimately familiar with the man’s magical signature. The silencing spell spreads over the walls of the room, sealing off all conversation inside the room.

“Listen here, Tanjirou,” the Archduke says at last, turning to face Tanjirou so that he can look into his eyes. Kyoujurou’s flaming amber eyes are serious as grave when their gazes meet. “The culprit of the Crown Princess’ poisoning attempt, and most, if not all, the assassination attempts on her life, were orchestrated by the Empress in some sort of way.”

Kyoujurou says the word Empress as though it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but Tanjirou is stunned beyond belief at such a reveal. The matriarch of the Empire, attempting to poison her own daughter? Even if he knows that the two don’t particularly share a good relationship, no mother should ever do such a thing to their own child!

“The Empress has long used such poisoning attempts as an excuse to get rid of dissenting members of the Imperial Council,” the Archduke continues. “And the princess has been training to resist poison in this manner ever since she was a child. This is not something out of the ordinary, Tanjirou.”

Tanjirou does not know what to say. He recalls his own mother, how unwavering she had been in raising and feeding her children, waking up even before the crack of dawn every morning to knead bread and make sure that they had enough to eat. If not for her, Tanjirou is sure that neither he nor Nezuko would be even half of the people they were. To hear that the Empress of Sumihana would stoop so low, he almost can’t believe his own ears.

For a moment, he almost wants to ask what the Emperor’s stance — but quickly realises that it is simply not possible for the highest person in the country to be completely unaware of the happenings in his own palace. He knows, but simply cannot — or chooses not to — interfere with his wife’s actions. And that too, in Tanjirou’s eyes, is just as unpardonable.

“I know this is asking the sun and the moon of you,” Kyoujurou says at last. “But this is the reason I had you and Nezuko brought into the palace, so that you could stand by the Crown Princess’ side and support her. I am not… asking you to protect her from every storm and gale that might come her way, but even then… I’d like to know that there’s someone who will stand by her side no matter the enemy she faces.”

“Even if that enemy is the ruling family of this empire,” Tanjirou finishes for him, quietly.

The two of them stand over the Crown Princess’ sickbed in silence for a while, before Kyoujurou steps away. “I should get going first to explain things to the rest of the Archdukes and the Imperial Council,” he says, squeezing Tanjirou’s shoulder firmly. “I’ll leave Her Highness in your hands.” With that, he steps out of the room, taking his warmth with him as he goes — leaving Tanjirou all alone with the sleeping princess.

After the door swings shut with a soft click, Tanjirou stands next to the princess, quiet, observing, forlorn. Just yesterday, she’d been laughing with him when he’d described a young nobleman’s affections and efforts to pursue his younger sister, regaling him with tales of entertaining incidents that had occurred in the palace before his arrival.

And now…

“Wake up quickly, Your Highness,” Tanjirou murmurs quietly, his voice vanishing like smoke in the silence of the Crown Princess’ chambers. “I know that I am no Crown Prince, and that no kiss of mine can wake you from this slumber, but still…”

She continues to sleep. The royal physicians had declared that she was in no real danger — the poison, while deadly, was something that the Crown Princess had been building resistance to ever since she was a toddler. The thought of the bright and cheerful princess, being fed poison as a child… there is a bitter taste in Tanjirou’s mouth.

Standing over her bed, looking at her sleeping face, Tanjirou speaks aloud a pledge — a vow.

“I, Kamado Tanjirou, from this day on, pledge to dedicate my sword, my life, and my heart to Her Highness the Crown Princess Sumiyuri Hayami.” Tucked in her blankets and eyes still closed, the princess doesn’t even stir. “Typically, these sorts of vows are sealed with a kiss to the hand, but…” he glances down at her hand, which is covered in gauze — a broken piece of pottery had sliced open the skin there. “Apologies for my insolence, Your Highness. You can chide me all you’d like after you wake up.”

Gently, he presses his lips to the Crown Princess’ brow.

#demon slayer #demon slayer fanfiction #demom slayer kamado tanjirou #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjiro x reader

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labonaires · 2 years ago

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"did you just call me a pup? i am not a pup, don't call me that ever again. and as for your big plan of trauma and fun: what kind of wild stuff are we talking about here? i feel like your definition might be completely different to mine."

@labonaires asked: why in the shit would we do that?

"Ah, that's the wrong question, pup! Instead you should be asking: why in the shit WOULDN'T we do that? and the answer is there's no reason we wouldn't do it, so we should do it! go wild, have a little fun, maybe traumatize some college frat boys while we're at it!"

#⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ writings. ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ howling into the abyss; bathed in moonlight.#⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ main. ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ a crown befitting a princess; bloodied maw of a she wolf.#storywolf.#dfghyfdfg she's so offended

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labonaires · 2 years ago

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@little-elena continued from here.

"no, i'm not the type to get cold easily." clara replies with a reassuring smile, trying to distract herself from what they had all just witnessed. the werewolf had just wanted some time to have fun at a party, but instead became aware of the existence of literal hybrids. "it's nice to meet you, elena. i'm clara."

#⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ writings. ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ howling into the abyss; bathed in moonlight.#⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ main. ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ a crown befitting a princess; bloodied maw of a she wolf.#little-elena.

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akakeiiji · 4 years ago

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-`,✎ Meteor Showers and Milk Bread — Oikawa Tooru

→ synopsis: when tooru sneaks out of the palace in secret, wanting to explore and experience the city for himself, he doesn’t expect to spend the entirety of his evening with an odd, brash, and frankly rude mage but he wasn’t complaining

→ pairing: prince!oikawa tooru x fem!reader

→ genre: royalty au, fluff, angst if you squint enough

→ warnings: none (i think)

→ word count: 6.2k

→ taglist: open (just message/send me an ask!)

[ part two coming soon ]

If you’re wondering what “Planus” is, please go to google translate: Latin to English. I just thought that it was very befitting for our precious little birthday boy.

I wasn’t planning to make this a two-parter but I wasn’t able to finish this in time before Tooru’s birthday so here we are. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to finish the second part but I’ll try my best to get it out soon.

Anyway, happy birthday Tooru, I love you so much even if I do bully you a lot ♥︎

Even after all these years, it still never ceases to both amaze and perplex Tooru how unfailingly consistent the royal guards are. When he was younger, he mistook them as a hindrance to his schemes but now he was older, smarter, and eternally grateful to their unnatural punctuality and constancy, that of which turned out to make his life a whole lot easier.

He keeps his eye on the small, practically invisible peephole, peering into the dark—yet still grand—corridors from behind the large oaken doors of his bedroom. His left hand—uncharacteristically bare, devoid of any of his usual rings and other flashy accessories—was held firmly on the golden door handles, his other clenching a small, equally gold, pocket watch.

He stands in silence, the slow, monotonous ticking of his watch being the only sound filling the bedroom.

And then, just like the intricate clockwork of his watch, a pair of armor-clad guards appear from the around the corner of the hallway just as the clock struck twelve. Tooru grins at the sight, “Just on time.” He chuckles as he carelessly stuffs the watch into his cloak.

He waits not-so-patiently as he watches the guards march rigidly through the corridor. Could they be any slower? Tooru thinks to himself, his foot tapping rapidly.

Finally, after what seemed like a millennium, the guards pass by Tooru’s quarters—their eyes trained on the grand entrance to the room—unaware that he was watching them carefully.

Tooru definitely didn’t regret secretly installing the peephole. He worried about it being cursed, the witch who sold it to him seemed odd, but in the end, the trade proved to be worth it. Whether it was cursed or not was still up for discussion though.

Tooru waits for a few more seconds after the guards marched out of sight around the other end of the corridor, ensuring that they were out of earshot before beginning to twist the door handle open in a painstakingly slow pace, wincing slightly at the loud click it emitted. He opened it just enough so that he could barely squeeze through and took one last look into his bedroom.

He hoped the pile of pillows he arranged underneath his covers was enough to trick any unwanted visitors throughout the night. Though Tooru knows only one person would have the gall to suddenly barge into his quarters at such an hour and he doubts this would be enough to deceive his ever so perceptive personal attendant.

Speaking of Iwaizumi—or rather, Iwa-chan—his clothes are frankly much too large on Tooru. It must have been the result of his relentless training with the other swordsmen and guards in the palace.

He didn’t want to have to borrow (read: steal) Iwa’s clothes like this, but nothing in Tooru’s large, ever-expanding wardrobe would be inconspicuous enough to suit his needs for that night. He needed to keep a low-profile, to remain hidden and unnoticable. The complete opposite of his usual self.

After all, the Prince of Seijoh can’t be out and about meandering around the city all on his lonesome. It simply isn’t safe, it isn’t ethical, it just isn’t allowed for His Royal Highness.

Tooru can’t help but roll his eyes at the thought. He could clearly imagine all the royal advisors, attendants, and anyone of high position really, telling him all this if he gets caught during one of his many escapades to the city. He could already feel the long, drawling lecture from his parents and the cold stare of his sister who would be upset not over the fact that Tooru snuck out of the palace but because he didn’t take her with him.

No, it was one thing for the prince to sneak out but for the crown princess to so much as step foot outside the palace grounds without her cavalry of guards and mages? It was simply unimaginable.

Tooru reaches the end of the hallway. Careful to only step on the soft velvet carpet lining the marble floors as to not make any sounds, he edges towards the wall and peers around the corner. As usual, guards were stationed at every alcove of the corridor, ready to attack any and all intruders, trained to jump and pounce at any sound they hear. Which was fair, they were protecting the royal family after all. Which of whom would be fast asleep by now if they were the obedient little royal they ought to be, if they weren’t Oikawa Tooru.

It was a good thing Tooru memorized the palace as if it were the back of his hand. There was no need to bother with the guards lining the main entrance of the royal chambers when he could just use the servants' passageways.

He palms the wall blindly until he finds the one brick he had to press to reveal a small entryway on the once bare wall. He slips in before the entryway conceals itself once more.

It was admittedly an oversight made by the countless architects and engineers that designed the palace. Or maybe they just didn’t think that a royal such as Tooru would know that such passageways existed. Regardless, he didn’t care, what mattered was that he could now maneuver freely around the castle without worrying about the myriad of guards stationed all over the main hallways.

Palace surveillance was light in the servants’ quarters and areas. As Tooru nears the foot of the stairs from the maze of passageways in the castle, he could already hear the rowdy laughs and rambunctious voices of the numerous other inhabitants of the castle. It was at this hour where chambermaids, cooks, out of duty guards, and the like would be able to rest and relax, free from their usual day to day responsibilities in the castle. Tooru loved it here.

He wished he could stay but he pulls the hood of his cloak over his head and steps out from the stairwell, trying to seem as casual as he could.

Of course, nobody pays him any mind. There are hundreds of people coming and going in this area of the castle every day, Tooru was only one of very, very many. He snatches an apple from a farmer’s basket as he skips out through the back gates of the castle, one exclusively for the castles many servants and workers, a triumphant smile on his face.

When one thinks of Prince Tooru, they think grandeur, they think regalia, and such. The people of Seijoh know about his brains, his charms, and his wicked good looks, but not many have actually had the pleasure of seeing the prince with their own eyes. At least, not without knowing it was him.

No one would have expected that the boy wandering around the streets—the one with a look of pure, childlike wonder in his eyes—clad in an oversized tunic, loose pants, and a ratty cloak would be the infamous prince. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Despite the late hour, the city was still bright and bustling, shops were still open, lanterns were still lit and the streets were still lined with people, for it was the night the Planus meteor showers would grace the skies.

Tooru had been waiting for this day for years, the minute he read about them from his absurd collection of astronomy books, he knew he just had to see them for himself, only to find out that they occurred once every fifteen years. He was barely three years old the last time they appeared. Just his luck.

He had absolutely no clue why the castle wasn’t hosting a grand ball or banquet of sorts right now. There should be a celebration of some kind for such an event but no, they’d rather celebrate the birthday of some old, long deceased great-great-uncle of theirs—which was hands down, one of the dullest balls Tooru had ever attended in his life—than celebrate this.

At least the people of the city had their priorities in order; there was a three-day festival all for the meteor showers. Tooru made a mental note to tell his sister to create that day a kingdom-wide holiday when she becomes queen.

A part of Tooru is glad that there wasn’t any form of an event held that night though. It would have been virtually impossible to slip away unnoticed if that were the case and he’d never be able to witness the city in such a state.

Large golden lanterns were strung across the roads, tied to the street lights, basking the city in a warm, orange glow. Food stalls were set up in every corner selling snacks ranging from traditional sweets of the kingdom to eccentric fruits and drinks from far away countries. Jesters and wizards were performing acts and magic tricks in front of starstruck children. Crowds were gathered in the city square, where loud music was playing and people were dancing around the statue of Tooru’s great-great-grandparents, the crowd clapping along with the beat of the music—which Tooru noticed was coming from a group of instruments playing themselves, obviously the work of a skilled mage.

Tooru was clapping along with the crowd, watching the dancing couples flit gracefully around the square when a familiar scent meets his nose. His eyes tear away from the scene in front of him and finds himself staring at a small bakery, more specifically at the familiar pastries set on display by the open windows.

He bought three milk bread buns that night. Two more than he probably needed but he didn’t care. They weren’t like the ones served at the palace; the buns were smaller, denser, and not uniform in size or shape. The ones usually served at breakfast were always unnaturally consistent and identical to one another. Each one was the same size, the same shape. They were all meticulously scored giving the buns intricate designs yet even those were uniform as well.

The commoner buns were better.

Perhaps the choice of analogy could be better but Tooru thinks about how the two milk bread buns perfectly described the way he felt about the members of nobility and commoners.

Though plain, though unrefined and rudimentary, in the end, the simple milk bread buns from that little bakery down the street could beat the seemingly perfect ones at the royal palace, the ones prepared by the cavalry of specially trained cooks and staff.

Unlike the ones served at the palace, the ones he had in his hands right now were more filled with life and personality—if that even made any sense. He could tell that they were made with love, with care from the elderly couple that ran the bakery. It didn’t matter that it was flawed, not as intricately designed or made with expensive ingredients, these were loads better than any other bread the palace could have served him.

This was probably why Tooru loved being out in the city so much, devoid of his usual riches and regalia. This was also the reason why his best friend was his personal attendant instead of some other prince or noble. They were far more real than any other royal he’s met before.

Tooru is suddenly pulled away from his thoughts at the sound of yelling from afar. He follows the crowd of people who too were drawn towards the person, trying to get close enough to understand what he was trying to announce to everyone.

“—Make way! It’s starting! Everyone make way!—”

Tooru only manages to catch these words because suddenly, like a deafening canon, everyone around him starts cheering and whooping excitedly. He barely has time to react when people start clearing the middle of the roads, pushing themselves onto the sides of the brick sidewalks in a matter of a few seconds, squishing Tooru between a wall and the backs of the still cheering crowd.

Everyone was facing the cleared out road in front of them, their eyes trained at the end of the street evidently waiting for something to appear.

Tooru struggles out from in between the wall of people and the actual wall he was stuck in and walks along the streets, behind the lines of people.

“Erm—excuse me?” Tooru starts, tapping the shoulder of the nicest looking person he could spot. “What’s happening?”

The man shoots him an incredulous look, one that asked are you serious? “What’s happening? How could you not know what’s happening?”

Once it was evident that Tooru really was serious, the man chuckles and pats him on the shoulder. “Not from around here, huh?”

Tooru laughs sheepishly, subconsciously tugging his hood down even more. “You could say that.”

The man goes to explain but his and Tooru’s attention were torn away when loud music began playing from the end of the street. Tooru was glad he was tall because he was able to see even from behind the crowds of people.

It was a parade. Of course, it was, how had Tooru not realized? He internally smacked himself for his momentary stupidity.

He stands on his tiptoes, trying to get a better view of the gargantuan floats coming nearer and nearer. The first one was the size of two carriages stacked on top of one another and it was designed to look like meteors were on top of them. It obviously had some sort of magic imbued in them since they were glowing brightly, basking the street with blues and purples.

Tooru has never seen anything like this before. His brown eyes are wide with amazement as he follows the floats with them, his mouth agape. He could imagine his teachers scolding him for doing so, saying it was unsightly to hang his mouth open like that.

Commoners never fail to amaze him.

The other floats were similar to the first one, though they featured different things such as jesters, mages, centaurs, and pegasi. His personal favorite was the one of a giant griffin, its wings were charmed to flap and spread out as it rolled by, blowing wind into the faces of the crowd. Tooru’s hood was blown back but he didn’t notice nor care. He could barely hear the music from the band of players marching by the floats over the screaming and oohing of the crowd but Tooru was able to catch a few words from a pair of girls in front of him.

“—Mina look! It’s the royal float!” She points her finger out to a white float from afar. Her friend giggles, trying to get a better view. “I know! The man playing Prince Tooru is so handsome.”

The what playing the what now?

Tooru follows the girl’s finger and finds himself staring at a float of the royal palace. It showed the facade of the castle, it even had the same flags perched on the rooftops, but what caught Tooru’s attention however were the four figures standing on the turrets of the float, waving at the crowd.

There were people playing as the royal family. They were dressed in luxurious robes: fur-lined cloaks, epaulettes, and gowns—though Tooru suspected that they weren’t actually made of the same material as the real ones back at home.

He saw a couple playing as his mother and father, waving politely to the crowd. They didn’t look exactly like his parents of course but they were able to find actors that looked sort of like them, which makes sense, the king and queen have made frequent public appearances in the city.

However, what really caught Tooru’s eye were the ones playing him and his sister, who unlike their parents, have never been seen by the public.

His sister was played by a woman in her twenties, dressed in a lavish pink gown his actual sister would never have even looked at, waving enthusiastically at the crowd, sending flying kisses and throwing petals towards them.

He would have laughed if he had not seen the man playing himself.

He was probably around fifteen, years younger than he was. He was smiling devilishly at everyone, winking and shooting looks at all the girls in the crowd. He had an air of pompousness around him, especially with the way he ran his hands through his curly blonde hair.

Yes, blonde. They hadn’t even gotten his hair right.

Asides from that he was waving a sword around at the sky, yelling about how he’s vanquished dozens of dragons—which Tooru has never and, frankly, will never do.

Tooru scrunches his face in disgust as he listened to this child make a fool of himself—which in turn made a fool of Tooru. He could admit, it was childish to feel so offended by this but he couldn’t help it.

He starts walking in the direction the floats were headed at, his eyes still trained at the “royal” float, wanting to hear more despite knowing how it would just irk him even more.

Tooru was even more horrified when the boy pulled out a rose and started announcing his love to a princess from Niiyama. Tooru would rather eat a toad than marry the frankly terrifying princesses of Niiyama who intimidate him to no end.

“HEY WATCH IT!”

Tooru really should have been paying attention to where he was going because before he knows it, he’s laying on the sidewalk. His hands were flat on the ground, bleeding slightly after the impact of the fall.

“Ow—ow—ow.” Tooru hisses as he stares at them. He didn’t know how he was going to explain this to Iwa tomorrow. He suddenly sees a sight much worse than his scraped hands.

“My milk bread!” Tooru cries out, staring at the two remaining buns which were tucked safely in his bag, now trampled and squashed on the street. Tooru could feel a piece of his heart breaking off at the sight.

His attention is torn away though by you, the person he ever so gracefully crashed into.

You, however, paid no mind to Tooru or the tragic loss of his milk bread. You were too busy examining a large telescope you seemed to be carrying earlier, not even caring that you were laying in the middle of the dirty street as you searched for any sign of damage on the instrument in your hands.

“Oh thank god.” You sigh in relief, realizing that it was fine and only sustained a few scratches.

“Are you alright?” Tooru asks, holding his hand out to place it on your shoulder.

You whip your head towards Tooru, the relieved expression on your face turning to one of annoyance as you glared at him. Tooru freezes.

“Yeah and no thanks to you.” You huff as you clutch the telescope protectively to your chest, veering away from his hand. Your eyes then fall on your papers and books which were now littered all over the brick sidewalk and you gasp. “My notes! Great, thanks a lot pretty boy.”

Pretty boy? Tooru retracts his hand, his bottom lip jutting out slightly, and instead goes to help you pick up the rest of your papers. He couldn’t help but stop and stare at one of the papers he grabbed. It was a star chart, not unlike the ones he sees in his astronomy books, but this one was covered in scribbles and writings. Tooru realizes that these are runes, the same one he sees the mages employed at the palace read and write.

“Hey, here are your—” Tooru says as he heaves himself up only to find you gone, the space where you were just laying on empty. He twirls around to find you running around a corner, your cloak billowing behind you.

“—notes.” He trails off, staring at the thick leatherback book and pieces of parchment in his hands. As much as Tooru wanted to just leave them on the side of the road and go buy more milk bread to replace the ones he just lost, he knew he had to return the important looking papers back to you.

Curse him and his morals.

He runs after you, turning the same corner you did to find himself staring at a small street that had stone stairs leading up along it. You only had a few seconds headstart but somehow you already made your way to the top of the stairs, turning another corner towards another street, paying no notice to Tooru’s calls.

“Good god.” Tooru sighs as he runs up the stone steps after you, beginning to question his life choices.

He continues to follow you through the winding, labyrinth-like streets of the city. The farther you two went from the city square, the fewer people there were, and the darker it became. Tooru was beginning to think he’d lose you when he suddenly turns the corner and finds himself staring at a massive, open field.

You two were at the edge of the city, on top of a large hill. Trees surrounded the field which was covered in flowers filling the area with a sweet scent.

You rush over to a patch of grass that didn’t have flowers growing all over, gingerly placing the telescope beside you and then throwing everything else to the ground with no disregard. Tooru watches from behind you, bent down, and clutching his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

You two essentially ran up dozens of flights of stairs and roads that were all uphill but you didn’t seem affected at all whilst Tooru was basically dying from exertion.

Again, curse him and his morals.

“Where is it?” You cry out as you sort through the pile of papers and books on the ground. You take out your bag and begin sifting through it, praying that you’d find that specific volume of astronomy 101 you needed for your study, but alas, it had vanished.

Your mind flashes back to the time you fell in the streets, dropping all your things and you slap your forehead in frustration. “Pretty boy!” You wailed in realization.

Perhaps you still had time, maybe you could run back and find it back at the square. Hopefully, no one had taken it and it was still there.

“Looking for something?” You whip your head back to find none other than Pretty Boy and, more importantly, your textbook in his hands.

“Did you follow me?” You gasp, getting up from your spot and walking over to Tooru, who was still heaving. You grab the book and papers from his hand and flip it open; It really was your missing textbook. You sighed in relief, placing the book against your chest.

“I’m pretty sure a thank you is in order.” Tooru quips, shooting you a look as he straightens himself. He was much taller than he seemed at first glance.

“Well, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you were actually paying attention to your surroundings.” You state as you lightly poke his chest and you turn to march back to your little spot in the field. Just like earlier, Tooru’s bottom lip juts out, one eyebrow raised.

“But thank you—I guess.” You say stiffly, looking over your shoulder a bit. Tooru’s expression immediately lights up at these words.

Much to your surprise—and annoyance—he follows after you, matching your pace so he was walking by your side, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You’re a mage, aren’t you?” He declares this more than asks really, a knowing smile resting on his lips. “No—a mage’s apprentice.” He adds quickly, correcting himself.

You glare at him, ignoring his question, as you flop back on your spot beside your books and papers. “And why are you still here, exactly?”

Tooru looks back at the city behind you two sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Multiple reasons.”

“Do tell.” You voice, setting up your telescope in front of you. “I’m ever so interested.”

Tooru ignores your blatant sarcasm and takes a seat beside you, also ignoring your groans at this action. “First things first, I have no idea how to get back to the square, I’d probably just get lost and spend the rest of the evening wandering around aimlessly.”

“Secondly,” Tooru stretches his arm up over his head and leans back onto the soft grass, his forearms cushioning his head. “I’m exhausted.”

“We didn’t even go that far.” You comment, raising an eyebrow at the male who was staring up at the sky. He gasps dramatically and turns his head towards you. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never ran so much in my entire life, I feel like I just scaled a mountain.” He lifts a hand, his pointer finger thumb just barely touching. “My legs are this close from snapping off.”

You snort, turning your attention back to your telescope. Tooru beams, pride swelling at his chest at the fact that he made you laugh—well, sort of laugh. He turns his entire body towards you so that he’s laying on his side, his right arm extended over his head, his cheek resting on his palm.

“You never answered my question.” He starts, staring at your pile of papers and books. “You are a mage, right?”

“Well you aren’t wrong but you also aren’t right.” You respond, purposefully cryptic. Tooru rolls his eyes, deciding to just drop the subject. “Fine, don’t tell me, whatever.”

His attention is turned towards your telescope when you let out a satisfied hum as you finally finished setting it up, his eyes brightening at the instrument. He’s never used a telescope, the royal mages at the palace had them but they never allowed Tooru to use them before.

“Can I try?” You smack his hand away from the instrument, Tooru huffs rubbing the spot where you hit him. “Absolutely not, you’ll just break it.”

Tooru’s pout returns as he groans. “No, I won’t, come on I’ll be careful, just this once, please.”

“After what happened just earlier, you don’t exactly have the best track record for being careful.” You chide, pointing at the base of the telescope. “Look, it’s scratched now.”

Tooru puffs his cheeks as he stares back at you and back at the telescope again, mulling over what to say.

“Well, you aren’t the only one that was affected by the fall earlier.” Tooru begins, sighing dolefully. “I lost my precious milk bread.”

You let out the same snort from earlier. “Yeah, because milk bread is just of equal worth as a telescope.”

An indignant gasp escapes from Tooru’s lips, “Don’t belittle my milk bread.” A hand rests on his chest as he speaks. “I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.”

A silence falls between you two before you both start chuckling at the absurdity of his words. This was rare for Tooru, letting out an actually genuine laugh with a person that wasn’t Iwa or his sister.

He surprisingly feels way more at ease than he thought he would. He’s always been guarded towards strangers, always polite to them as to not offend and inflict the wrath of his advisors and personal attendant but never nice enough to blossom new friendships. He was perfectly satisfied with the people he had in his life now, he didn’t need any more than necessary.

But somehow, he found himself drawn to you and your brash attitude and sarcasm. He knew you didn’t have the slightest clue that he was the prince of the kingdom but it was still odd to be treated in such a way. The vast majority of the people at the castle would freeze and stiffen when he was near, their eyes always trained at the ground as if eye contact with him was forbidden, which it certainly was not. They’d avoid having to speak to him if they could, and if they couldn't they’d always regard him as “Your royal highness” or “Prince Tooru”.

They’d probably faint at the mere idea of calling him Pretty Boy.

This was another reason why Tooru was so close to Iwaizumi. He wasn’t afraid of him. Yes, he was the prince but he was first and foremost a person, and Iwa knew this and never walked around eggshells with him. He wished more people were like him. More like you.

Tooru watches as you peer into your telescope, scribbling rapidly on a spare piece of parchment, taking note of something Tooru couldn’t see. He whines loudly.

“Just let me try. I’ll be careful, I swear!” He pouts at you once more as he inches closer to you, shooting you his infamous puppy dog eyes but you were unperturbed. You flick his forehead causing him to fall back to his previous position, groaning in defeat.

“You’re just like the mages at the palace, they never let me—”

“Palace?”

Tooru freezes, you freeze too, shooting him a quizzical look, your quill now lax in your hand.

“As in the palace? That royal palace?” You ask, pointing at the aforementioned building which was visible even from where you two were. Tooru’s really done it now this time.

“No! I mean, yeah—I, erm—work there.” He stammers, avoiding eye contact, his thumbs fiddling around each other nervously but you pay no notice to this as you stare in awe at the glowing building. “Woah, that’s cool.”

“Not really, it’s not as great as it seems.”

“Are the royal family snobs?” You tilt your head to the side. “I don't know, I just assume they are. Most of them are.”

“All royals are snobs.” Tooru says wistfully.

You bite the inside of your cheek, you may not know him but you could tell that this was a sensitive subject for him. You decide to just drop the subject.

You instead throw yourself to your work, continuing on writing down the names of stars and movements of certain planets and such. Tooru continues on pestering you, asking you questions about what you were doing and commenting on certain things he saw in your textbooks—you gave up on telling him off for touching your stuff. He surprisingly knew a lot more than you expected for someone who wasn’t a mage.

“—which is why I believe that there is life outside of Earth. Perhaps in some other planet or something.” Tooru finishes off, he had been rambling about extraterrestrial lifeforms for the past ten minutes. “Don’t you think so too?”

You shoot him a look, ignoring his question. “Do you ever shut up, Pretty Boy?” You jeer halfheartedly, he chuckles. “Only when I want to.”

You roll your eyes as you close your book. Finally done with your assignment. All you had to do now was wait for the meteor shower. You lift your arms up, stretching after staying in one position for such a long time. Your eyes fall on the man beside you, who was staring longingly at your telescope as he bit his lip apprehensively.

He opens his mouth, no doubt ready to beg once more but you cut him off before he could. “Fine, but if you break it, I will curse you into oblivion.”

Tooru’s face lights up instantaneously, jumping up from his position in the grass and crawling to the telescope, he gingerly takes the instruments in his hands before he gives you a look which asked are you sure?

“I said it’s fine, go on before I change my mind.” You urge, waving a hand. Tooru lets out a wide grin, his eyes brimming with excitement before he peers into the telescope.

Every so often, he’d let out a small gasp or “Woah!” as he observed the night sky. Just like earlier, he’d ask you a few questions about unfamiliar stars of constellations. He reminded you of a child being in a toy store for the first time.

After some time, Tooru straightens and turns to you, a satisfied smile gracing his features. “That was amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” You lightly punch Tooru’s arm. “But don’t think I forgot about earlier. Telescopes are expensive, you know. I doubt you’d be able to afford a replacement.”

Tooru’s small smile doesn’t leave his lips even as he rubs his arm. How funny, a commoner telling him, a prince, that he couldn’t afford something. He remains silent though.

“Hey, what’s that on your hand?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you scooted closer to him, staring at his hands. Tooru turns it over so that his palm was face up and stares at the scapes on them with a look at that say oh I forgot about that.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” But you were already digging through your satchel, ignoring his protests. You pull out a small vial that was full of a thick red concoction.

“Okay, what is that?” Tooru says suspiciously, instinctively veering away from the potion. You roll your eyes, opening the vial. “It isn’t poison, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You hold out your free hand towards Tooru. “Just trust me, okay?” You ignored the fact that you were a total stranger and pushed on.

You hadn’t the slightest clue why you were even doing this, using an invaluable healing potion for some stranger’s minor scrapes but here you were anyway.

Tooru reluctantly slides his hand over yours and you pour a few drops of the potion onto his palms. You put the vial down beside you and begin spreading the substance over his wounds. His hand was oddly soft, as if it hadn’t done a single day of work in its life but you chose not to comment on this.

Tooru winces, the potion stinging at first before a cooling sensation instantaneously spreads on his hand. He sighs at the feeling.

“Okay, other hand.” You instruct, letting go of his right hand. Tooru follows obediently.

He stares, not at his hand on top of yours, but at your face. At your concentrated expression and the way you bit your lip as you worked, something you must do when you were focused since he saw you do it often as you worked earlier. He may or may not have been watching you.

Then he realizes it. He doesn’t even know your name.

“I never asked, what’s your—”

“Oh my god! Pretty Boy look! It’s starting!” You jump up from your seat rushing to your pile of notes, looking for a blank piece of parchment. You pull one out and stare up at the sky, writing down your observations as you did so.

Tooru whips his head around and watches the bright lights whoosh through the night sky as it basks everything in a myriad of colors, mixes of purples, blues, and greens. His eyes are as wide as saucers, his lips forming an “o” shape as he stared at the sky in awe.

He’s never seen anything as beautiful as this before in his entire life.

He turns to you, ready to jabber excitedly, only to find you frozen in place, quill and parchment forgotten on your lap as you marvel at the sight before you. Tooru decides to stay silent, not wanting to ruin the moment.

He can’t help but sneak glances towards you every now and then as the meteors flew by. He could admit, you were actually pretty when you weren’t getting annoyed at him. Okay, fine, you were actually beautiful. Especially with the way the flurry of lights shining over you, the meteors reflected on your eyes, making it seem like they were glowing in the dark.

“I have to admit something,” Tooru says when the last meteor flew past the two of you. “I lied earlier.”

“About what?”

“Well, I told you that I couldn’t go back to the square because I’d get lost,” Tooru explains, grinning slightly. “That was just an excuse, I really just wanted to stay because you seemed interesting.”

You flushed but you hoped it wasn’t obvious in the dark. You smacked him on the arm once more out of reflex. “That’s so creepy.”

A comfortable silence falls between you two as you stare at the sky, unaware that Tooru’s remained fixed towards you.

“Hey, I just realized that I don’t know your name—”

“SHITTYKAWA!”

You and Tooru jump like frightened cats at the booming voice. Thunderous stomps approach you two and before the both of you know it, Tooru was lifted onto his feet by the collar, being dragged away back to the streets by a man around your age who was yelling angrily the entire time.

You couldn’t catch everything he was saying though you caught a few phrases such as “—YOU’RE SUCH AN IDIOT—” and “—I’VE BEEN SCOURING THE STREETS FOR HOURS—”

Tooru struggled against Iwa’s grip but he wasn’t strong enough to rival his strength, he still tried though as he pleaded with Iwaizumi to let him go for a moment but it was all for naught.

When Iwa finally caved in to his best friend’s whining and pleading and let him go, he ran back up the street to the flower field to find the spot where you once were empty. The pile of books and papers, the telescope so carefully set up, and most importantly, you, had vanished in a matter of seconds.

Tooru furrowed his eyebrows together, staring at the empty field in dismay before Iwa ran back up to him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away.

“We have to go.”

“But—”

“No, Oikawa, we have to go now.”

“But I never got her name.”

taglist: @sugarkou (hi dork, ily)

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winterbites · 4 years ago

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Yashahime is out! Spoiler warning

Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon is out! First episode was about as I expected: quick overview of the original InuYasha series, the inclusion of the Since Then extra manga chapter plus a show of the three main warriors (Towa, Setsuna and Moroha) scripted to kick ass in this long awaited sequel.

Now, let me get straight to the point and SPOILER Towa was the one called the half-demon princess, not Moroha. I didn't expect Moroha to be the princess, it's easy to tell that she's a riot just like her parents and I think she's more akin to a quarter-demon rather than a half-demon (if such a thing is feasible within Japanese folklore).

What I DIDN'T expect was for one of Sesshomaru's daughters to be called the half-demon princess. Why? Firstly, Towa is said to be quite the riot herself (I can't remember where but I read that she wears men's clothing just to make fighting easier). Royalty tends to be very poised in InuYasha, so a rough pup like Towa doesn't exactly fit the bill on that front. Secondly, and more importantly, I have my doubts that Sesshomaru would fuck a human; if there's one thing he hates more than half-demons, then it would be humans (excluding Rin and Kohaku).

Honestly, I thought the whole Princess Half-Demon thing would be kinda like Legend of Zelda: the franchise is named after a secondary protagonist rather than the main protagonist. What I mean is that, although we've got our three young, badass ladies, perhaps the half-demon princess isn't one of them but rather a future character yet to be revealed.

Now, Towa didn't outright deny that she's the half-demon princess nor did she say that they're thinking of someone else (kinda like the way Kagome would when she was called Kikyo even though they're technically the same person), so here are a few things that I think is happening.

Firstly, Towa could be in the same situation as Kagome. When Kagome was traveling through the Feudal Era, she kept getting called priestess despite the fact that she looked NOTHING like one. There were reasons for this but that doesn't change the fact that she obviously wasn't a priestess or even one in training. How does that apply to Towa? Well, she's a demon but she was raised by humans (more specifically, Kagome's little brother Sota), hence the half-demon part. As for the princess piece, since Towa obviously isn't a princess (once again, this is why I thought that the princess might be a character we've yet to see), Towa could be called that simply for being from "another land" (aka the Modern Era). Kagome might've been called a princess too but she probably wasn't due to being a descendant of Kikyo (main reason for being titled a priestess). Plus, Towa's clothes look a lot more regal than Kagome's school uniform (the cloak Towa had on at the beginning of the episode reminded me a lot of the clothes Akago, Naraku's little freak baby, used to wear).

The other possible reason why she was called the princess half-demon is because maybe Sesshomaru DID fuck a human, as unbelievable as it seems. The mother could be royalty and, thus, her children would be as well OR Towa and Setsuna gained royal titles from their father. That's right, I'm talking about daddy Sess. How? Toga (aka Inu no Taisho aka Sesshomaru's and InuYasha's pappy) was a powerful man deemed Lord of the Land. Correct me if I'm wrong, but, basically, the way royalty comes about is like this: person is rich and mighty + conquers a lot of land through military efforts and/or buys territory = crowned royalty. Very simplistic but this is tumblr and the only thing I want to go in depth about is anime. Anyway, Toga very clearly applied that equation to real life and worked that shit since he was LORD of the Land, not protector or whatever other title would befit that glorious slab of meat. So Towa and Setsuna royalty by bloodline? Very probable. It does bring up the question of why Setsuna isn't called a princess as well but she has amnesia and, for all anyone knows, is just another demon hunter.

Just as a sidenote, InuYasha is technically royalty from his mother's side. Izayoi is canonically a princess so that would make InuYasha a prince. Granted he's a bastard (both figuratively, 'cause he's an asshole, and literally 'cause of the definition of the word) but, by all means, if he found Izayoi's homeland and excerised his birthright, given that there are no others of the bloodline, he could totally be a lord himself. Why would he do that? He probably wouldn't, but he totally could. Anyway, thanks for coming to my tedtalk, let me know what y'all are thinking.

#yashahime: princess half demon #hanyou no yashahime: sengoku otogizoushi #kohaku inuyasha #rin inuyasha #inuyasha #kagome higurashi #sota higurashi #sesshomaru #towa higurashi #setsuna #moroha #inu no taishou #izayoi

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histoireettralala · 4 years ago

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Henri III deserves better than his reputation.

@microcosme11 who was interested in knowing more about Henri III.

***

Henri III was the last Valois king of France (19/09/1551-02/08/1589) and certainly among the kings whose reputation was the most tarnished. You could say it was trashed by the black legend his enemies quickly wove around him: weak, effeminate, cowardly, treacherous, immoral... This is how he was depicted for centuries. For decades now, however, historians have worked to rediscover a misjudged king and rehabilitated a complex personality who was at odds, in many ways, with the expectations of his century. Henri III had above all a high idea of royal authority, and a modern conception of the state. In particularly difficult circumstances, he managed to avoid the wreck of the monarchy.

This post will try to be a quick summary of the circumstances of his reign, of his real qualities and personality, of the origin of the "black legend", and of his legacy as a king.

When the future Henri III was born, he wasn't destined for a crown. He was indeed the fourth son of Henri II and Catherine de Medici. Titled Duke of Anjou, he was given a thorough and refined education, as befitted a true prince of the Renaissance. His master Amyot, the most reputed of his time, was able to cultivate qualities that would make Henri a brilliant and eloquent prince " one of the best speakers of his era."

Henri was also Catherine's favorite child. He was good looking, smart, fashionable, an excellent swordsman. Aged only 16, he became Lieutenant General of the Kingdom, and he would soon prove his valor in the battlefield in Jarnac and Moncontour. Elected King of Poland and Grand Duke of Lituania under the name Henryk Walezy, his reign wouldn't last long - his brother Charles IX died without an heir and Henri immediately left Poland for France.

He was crowned on February 13, 1575, and two days later married the beautiful and smart Louise de Vaudémont, a princess of Lorraine, close to the famous and very influent House of Guise.

France was then in a very difficult situation. The Kingdom was divided and devastated by the wars of Religion. The warring parties were backed by foreign powers and France's political and economical condition suffered.

In the late XVIth century, the great lords of the Kingdom still acted like sovereigns of their own in many ways - the feudal order hadn't yet given way to the future absolutism (which would be the later creation of Richelieu and Louis XIII IMHO, in reaction precisely to the Great Lords' excessive capacity for nuisance). Henri III couldn't afford to overtly dismiss or displease them.

He had to stand up to three main parties: the Malcontents, the Protestants (leader: Henri, King of Navarre, his distant cousin), and the Catholics (led by the House of Guise). He knew that the restoration of peace and concord meant he had to get into everybody's good graces- a perilous proposition in such times. His whole life, Henri would have to find a balance. Nobody would be grateful for that. Mindful of his duty and his role as a mediator in the kingdom, he worked to establish the royal authority as effectively sovereign.

He would find enemies everywhere.

He was well spoken, soft spoken, elegant and well mannered: he would be mocked as weak and effeminate. He was clever and always favored diplomacy over shows of brute force: he would be despised for it and depicted as an immoral, cowardly prince. He wasn't as easily accessible as his predecessors: the Great lords didn't like that. When he got closer to the Guise, to appease the most radical Catholics, the Protestants rebelled. When he leaned towards Henri de Navarre, the League reacted violently. The balancing act harmed his reputation.

With the help of his ever present mother Catherine, he initiated a rapprochement with Henri de Navarre while supporting his brother's (François, Duke of Alençon) plans in the Spanish Netherlands: Protestants and Catholics coming together to face a common enemy (the Habsburgs) ? Excellent. That's a lesson Henri IV would remember.

Henri III was, in spite of his rather frail health, a hard worker. In 1584, after seven years of relative peace, strenghtening of the royal authority, and an intense legislative work, he was still childless - and his brother and heir François d'Alençon died of tuberculosis.

This was a great upset in the game.

Because the new heir was Henri de Navarre - leader of the Protestant party. Which of course was unacceptable for the Catholic opinion. Paris, who chose the Ligue, was dangerously agitated.

What a stroke of luck for Henri de Guise!

What was named then "La Guerre des Trois Henri" opposed three parties, not two. Although he was apparently allied to the ultra Catholics Guise, Henri III took care not to burn his bridges with the Protestants. The Habsburg support of Henri de Guise wasn't to his taste, and he didn't like the ambitious Duke. And if Navarre (whom he esteemed) was to lose entirely, Guise would become too powerful.

Guise was the first to move; exasperated by the King's caution, the Duke entered Paris in open defiance of the King, with the population cheering him on. Fearing a coup d'Etat, the King sent his own troops to Paris, and what happened was the famous "Journée des Barricades" (Barricade Day), on 13 May 1588.

What happened next ? Henri III took a terrible decision: for the peace of the Kingdom, for France to subsist as a State, for his authority to be maintained, Henri de Guise was to disappear. And there was a way to lure him: afraid that the King would sign peace with Navarre, Henri de Guise went to negotiate with Henri III in Blois. On December 23, Henri III had Henri de Guise assassinated by his own Guard, as well as his brother the Cardinal de Lorraine.

Was the King's opinion and attitude unclear before ? That's cleared now. But as for peace ? Never. The powerful Ligue lashed out in rage . The hatred was open. There were outloud calls of Death to the Tyrant.

Henri III would never see the Ligue destroyed: on the 1st August 1589, a fanatic monk by the name of Jacques Clément would stab him to death.

"This King was a good prince, if he'd met a better century", would write the chronicler Pierre de l'Estoile upon his death. In spite of his peculiar personality and the outburst of hatred he aroused, Henri also showed his qualities.

He had been raised in a humanist background and would protect the world of literature (Montaigne, Du Perron, Desportes); he was rather to be found working in his office with his ministers rather than on the battlefield. Although, when he had to, he was steadfast and brave in battle.

He was smart and usually able of compassion towards his adversaries.

He had faith, and his misfortunes made him find a refuge there. We know he even went on a spiritual retreat into a monastery for a while.

His contemporaries described him as a man who loved women - which was overlooked because he never granted any of his lovers a title of official mistress. He had for Marie de Clèves, Princess of Condé, a platonic, but deep passion, and the depth of his mourning after she brutally passed away in 1574, stunned the Court.

He married Louise de Vaudémont for her charm and her wit rather than for politics.

But in spite of this, the image we've had of him for centuries is indissociable from his "mignons" - effeminate youths clad in excentric outfits and wasting their time in frivolous games. He was painted as homosexual (and therefore despicable) based on pamphlets written by radical leaguers, radical calvinists, Malcontents. The high nobility didn't appreciate his "new ways", the refining of clothes and manners, the new court practices. The Ligue used against him a virulent propaganda, along with calls to rebellion and real campaigns of calumnies. And when he died, the change of dynasty didn't allow for a better, more impartial image to be offered. Queen Louise and the Duchess of Angoulême tried in vain to dispell this ambiguous image. The real culprits were'nt even be punished (Jacques Clément however perished).

And yet. He was the one who wanted concord and national unity in a country torn by wars of religion (he lived four of them). His long and unthanked political action allowed Henri IV to end half a century of cruel civil war.

Was he weak ? It is true he bowed to the many pressures of the Great lords. But he always took back control.

Cowardly ? He wasn't vainglorious. And he proved his personal courage, in the battlefields of his youth as well as at the time of his death (he fought off his killer).

Frivolous and immoral ? He loved pleasures, arts, and feasts. But he also was anxious about his soul and salute.

In the difficulties he had to face, he managed to rule and to leave France a considerable legislative body of work (Code Henri III).

What are some positive aspects of his reign ?

He launched loans to stabilize finances, he reduced the taille (tax), ensured the protection of cities, created offices, taxed luxury, taxed the clergy, revived the textile industry, revised farm leases, created fines for fraudsters, created a body of health officers and an assistance service for the needy and the orphans; he undertook the administrative reorganization of the kingdom, maintained the unity of France by overcoming the worst of wars, both civil and religious, and retained royal legitimacy through a regular transmission of power to Henri IV.

He held on his principle of royal authority and modern conception of the State. He maintained.

I agree with Pierre de l’Estoile.

“Décrié”: condemned, castigated, reviled.

Sources:

Wikipedia

https///www.histoire-pour-tous.fr/histoire-de-france/1481-henri-iii-le-dernier-des-valois.html

Pierre Chevallier: Henri III, roi shakespearien, 1985

Michel Pernot : Henri III, le roi décrié, 2017

Jean-François Solnon: Henri III: un désir de majesté, 2001

#my posts #xvi #henri iii #i'm not a historian #of course i'm far from telling everything this is just a quick defense of a man who deserves better than this sordid notoriety #i'm not saying he was flawless either #but for once he can get some credit #thanks @microcosme11

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flakandforay · 5 years ago

Text

MMA and MAMA 2019 Theory

welcome back loves to another theory with me!!! so it really has been a while since I have done any theory, mainly because homegirl is stuck in uni and is dying in it with useless group mates but anyway, i finally got back to doing another ever since I watched the MMA and MAMA 2019 ones and wow, there is so much to unpack.

also, a huge congratulations to our 4-Daesang winners aka BTS who not only swept all of the Daesangs in MAMA but MMA in 2019. honestly, still shocking considering how we all know how the industry is like lmao. but anyway, let’s begin.

if you want to support my ko-fi, feel free to do so

⇝ theory masterlist

theory: if I were to compare their MMA and MAMA VCRs, I believe there’s more to analyse for the MAMA ones because of the length and also because MMA’s one, I believe the hints are more centred around the individual performances and set ups.

So starting off with MMA, looking at the VCR. I am putting it out there is literally I Need U all over again. The camera pans out to Namjoon, Seokjin, Jimin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung and lastly Jungkook. For some reason, this has me thinking of the HYYH the Notes pairings that I keep mentioning throughout the theories about them. (read here) These were similar to that of Wings, but I guess Namjoon and Seokjin’s pairing was the one of the BST JP and instead of Taehyung being that Omelas boy, though some may say it’s Jungkook (because of how he is the youngest and he is affected by all and in this theory, Taehyung is the trigger), maybe could explain why the camera pans out to Jungkook last.

do you not think that the setting reminds me of of HYYH? the whole light, couches thing etc

But moving on, if you see at 0:49, you see the shadows of the boys walking behind them at the back but somehow settling behind each respective member which I find extremely creepy and somehow reinforces that the next instalment is Shadow but at 1:05 it shows the lighter.

One could recall it being one of Yoongi’s key charcateristics as he smokes and across the HYYH the Reel, or in the I Need U MV, but at the same time, common with Jungkook’s Little Matchstick Girl story and of course not to forget, just like here In the VCR, how Namjoon worked at the gas station and somehow dropped the lollipop on a cash but it caught fire etc which somehow related to his death in one of the theories.

We had Namjoon’s strong Persona intro and you could see at the back, the words ‘shadow’, ‘ego’, ‘what am I to you’ etc, scribbled behind though repeatedly. The words ‘shadow’ and ‘ego’ should be signifying the next two releases for bangtan’s map of the soul trilogy series based on jung’s map of the soul book which focused heavily on persona, shadow and ego along with many other theorists who believed that the other two instalments of the series to be called ‘shadow’ and ‘ego’. Other identified scribbles include ‘Im Not What’ ‘Happen to Me’, ‘No More Dream’, ‘Who are you, Who Am I’, ‘Dream, Love, Happiness’ etc. But anyway, after the Persona stage, the intro of ‘What am I to you’ is played and I swear it was Dark and Wild all over again before it went on to ‘Boy in Luv’ and parallelly, they moved on to ‘Boy With Luv’ such a stark contrast but shows their diversity. Afterwards, a short VCR with the truth untold instrumentals playing in the background before somehow they decided to crush my heart and played mikrokosmos and hearing Namjoon’s words is making me feel things.

Anyway, moving on, after that stage ended, the VCR played again with how Jungkook woke up and this idea of trying to figure out who he is, as he watches various screens of himself across the years with eg Save Me, No More Dream , fake love playing, danger, the lines ‘I’m still looking for who I used to be, who I am now., before Namjoon hugs him (note the Wings pairing) before the rest comes together in this formation. Yoongi, Jimin, Namjoon, Jungkook, Jin, Hoseok and Taehyung; Taehyung was the last one.

similar to this

this reminds me of this open room in fake love as well for Seokjin.

Then somehow in the midst of this, they show how the boys ‘appearing’, Jungkook forming from the clouds, Namjoon from the leaves, Jimin from smoke, Hoseok from the ‘fake love coloured setup’, Taehyung from ‘the spray can’ (he even had the sound effect of the spray can, Yoongi from fire and Jin from what seems to be in a room full of mirrors..? it seems oddly familiar but I can’t pinpoint as to where this is from. And yet after all this, as they all gaze into the screens, somehow only Taehyung is the one looking unsettled, at most a really really small smile, not sure if it was on purpose or just coincidental,

Jungkook’s ment cntinues ‘who I will be in the future’. At 18L47, it focused on Jungkok’s eyes to expand and show the milky way galaxy. Then it moved on to the start of the Dionysus stage but somehow we are surprised to find 7 individual stages.

But moving on, apart form bangtan’s group stages, there is a need to pay close attention to the individual stages of each member. i bet bangtan’s main goal for these year end shows is to somehow showcase their humble beginnings with their underrated songs hence why they performed n.o., we are bulletproof pt.2 and boy in luv at both year end shows across, asides from promoting their later songs such as mikrokosmos, or boy with luv.

Notice the transitions among each individual stages. It’s literally their whole discography, more focus was on here rather than showing a vcr ,though the vcr they played was of the I need u feels and you cannot tell me otherwise once I placed the references here. One for their similar outfits and the I need u sofa cut scene in the MV with this MMA VCR. Not to mention it kind of reminds me of the HYH Epilogue VCR when they were taking a family portrait.

Anyway, the individual stages started off with Taehyung, with no more dream but the level of sophistication and performance was amazing but also quite heavy considering the no. of back dancers yet somehow they’re in this gladiator outfit/warrior outfits with the skirts. Also, the 4 people hanging from the hoops at the top, it casually reminded of te Olympics but that’s just my opinion and in no relation to this. Do take note of how altered the sound is to sound more like it’s fit for a battle scene, those loud hits of the drums etc and the resounding ‘la la la’ a sa battle cry or possibly an anthem. Note the scenes at the back to be mostly of the Greek/Roman kind of architecture.

Next, it transitioned to Seokjin whose song was Danger and interestingly, this kind of Greek/Roman concept continued on, as now they leveraged more on Seokjin’s looks for this stage with lesser dancing in comparison and made him stand on top of this makeshift Trojan horse. Take note of how the music for Danger instead of the hard hitting kind of song, it becomes a little bit more majestic, royal even but with power. Though Seokjin relatively dances way lesser, his stage presence and looks was enough to dominate the stage, like my god, just look at him??? Also, the back up dancers outfits seem to continue on with this. And when he really took the reins and let it whip to have this yellow horse run as though he whipped it, it ran across the screens (satisfying really), it changed to something more melodic.

Here, you hear the acoustic version of I Need U which was actually played before unlike the other 2 versions of the songs (and actually the rest of the members’ as well), it was played at one of the year end show sin 2015 in which Yoongi actually played the piano and Jungkook was dancing, they were promoting Run at that time. But oh how this is so befitting for Jimin and his contemporary movies, it’s really so graceful, ethereal and wow. But they made this I Need U version more melodramatic with the use of strings such as violins and cello, listen to that rendition and melodies as well as the triangle I think (I literally forgot the name of that instrument) but then it moved on to Fire with Yoongi.

Honestly, I don’t think anyone knew it was Fire until it started because of the really really hard hitting bass that really became outright rock and loud cries of ‘La, La, La’ and what sounded like ‘Jin’ although I am pretty sure it’s not but you get my point here. Honestly, thought the fire in the screens looked like a dead giveaway but with how hard the beat is hitting that became rock, it almost sounded like a mantra not to mention how loud and how great the drums sound here. Also note how Yoongi isn’t doing much, just minimal dance moves like a body roll.

I must say the transition from Yoongi to Jungkook is quite abrupt because of the sharp contrast in the transition between their stages; from rock to something more pop? It’s a bit hard to adjust to, also the version for Save Me is so so different but yet so nice, it’s much more synthesized here and the choreography is centred to how the beats are in the music. To think this was done by Jungkook as well.

At 25:54, we are seeing 7 lights to represent 7 stars, which apparently, this constellation represents Corona Borealis. It represents the crown the Princess wore on her wedding day when she married Dionysus. (see where we are going with this). You could see that throughout all of the stages, an additional light to represent a star was added after each performance and at the end with Namjoon, the Corona Borealis was completed.

Now, going back to Hoseok’s part with Fake Love but a much more EDM version to showcase his popping and then finally, we have this version of Dionysus, but look at that intro with the chorus singing and it showcases Namjoon. Although he is walking, it reminds me when he changed his jacket in 2017 for another year-end performance as he walked across the stage but now it’s for the staff. Literally, Namjoon is not doing anything but walking, but look at his stage presence?????

And this was how Dionysus began but again with the 7 constellations, they really brought the 2 tiger balloons that they used at the concerts with them here at the MMA, with the foreign women throwing flowers which coincidentally was a Greek tradition.

Yet again, before they start their performance, we have the same guy sounding the horn. But now we have guys in fedora hats which I am still confused as to why they are there. Well I did some research and turns out the use of fedora hats originated from a popular Russian play but the word originated from the Greeks themselves.

The name Fedora is derived from the Greek word theodoros, which literally means "gift of God." -History of Fedora

I will like to sidetrack now to talk about the guy in the veil. so someone speculated on Twitter about the use of the veil in Greek culture and so this is how i went down to do my research etc and reading a paper on it. I have highlighted the necessary parts.

after reading this, one could say that the veil is a form of expression for anger. but mainly anger, then emotional pain and lastly grief. it can also be seen as ‘a form of retaliation, the victim’s way of punishing the offender’s breach of the rules of interaction’. you may consider seeing it as being petty, in a way of giving the silent treatment or just not giving one’s full attention but again, this goes deeper than on surface value. kinda interested to see how this would pan out in the future.

However, enough of the hat and veil talk and its history, now going back to the performance. They even brought out the horses so honestly tell me what is going on. So doing more research, I dug out some. The reason why I am focused on the symbolism of these things inn Greece is due to the consistent Greek culture that is being cultivated, perhaps prior to the Dionysus one but it seems to be well incorporated in the various stages as well such as the Trojan horse in Jin’s stage which was used to invade and win the war in Troy. But going back to the history of the horses, they symbolize wealth and status. The horse was often affiliated with heroes and Gods hence seeming to be far ‘important’ to the native Greeks. Not to mention the gladiators as well. Though gladiators were common with the Romans, the Greeks had them too but not as prevalent as the Romans. Interestingly, the Greeks refer them as ‘barbarians’.

For the Greeks, the gladiators were more of sacrifices to the Gods and those who emerged victorious during the Olympic games were blessed by Zeus and offered Zeus praise. In a way, if I were to put it in a different context, Zeus could be seen as a power play figure in terms of Big Brother (read 1984 theory here). Not entirely the same, but similarities are present.

What is the link of Dionysus in all of this? Well apart from the song of Dionysus by the boys, as well as inclusion of the iconic grapes for wine-making and thyrsus, I found something interesting that could explain the use of Dionysus in all of this.

As we all know, Dionysus was the god of wine, grape harvest and in some others fertility as well. He was known later on to be ‘androgynous youth’; not exactly a man but a ‘man-womanish’. With his long history, ‘Dionysus had crossed boundary between life and death, and he was often portrayed as the god who crossed the boundary between the civilized and uncivilized and the known and the unknown.’. Somehow this makes me think that perhaps Seokjin is Dionysus, the idea that he is the one conscious enough throughout the HYYH universe that time is rewinding itself back to the fateful day where one by one, the boys kill themselves and he is the one trying to save them all. Not to mention, I still think the theory still holds that somehow Seokjin could also be seen in purgatory where he tries to give them back their innocence through using the lilies (read I Need U JP theory here).

Interesting fact was that Dionysus was ‘born of fire and nursed by rain’. Opposites that link Yoongi and Jimin as well.

Based on here, apart from the fact that Dionysus was actually half mortal, he had the power to raise people from the dead, which was how he raised his mortal mother, Semele, from the dead.

Some others speculated about the whole Gods concept in which they claim BTS to represent of the 12 and basing it on their performance. This is what they came up with.

RM – Dionysus Jin – Athena Yoongi – Hephaestus Jimin – Artemis Taehyung – Apollo Hoseok – Zeus Jungkook – Poisedon

If we based it on this now, this could explain the certain dance breaks together here. Hoseok and Jungkook, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Taehyung then lastly Yoongi by himself. Yoongi is the only one being independent in a way. I guess also why they did the N.O. break was because they did not perform anything from that era (that + YNWA, BST, DNA and Answer) but then again, we are blessed by their whole discography.

so first of all, their VCR especially for MAMA was heavily reliant on time periods.

Basically, what was relayed in the video is as such. The calling; future.

It started with the damn hourglass again, when will it stop??

They showed in the VCR these 7 white-veiled guys who I assumed would be them and is them but is also a carry over from the MMA scene in which during Tae’s stage and before Jin’s one, you see the white veiled guy next to the horses.

The VCR had very interesting transitions which reminded me of the Wings short stories with the various symbols, not to mention the fact it was heavily focused on Hoseok’s eyes which was similar to his short film of MAMA. The transition in and out of it. Past meets future. I will bet that this was Hoseok’s eye just by seeing the shape and also here’s a reference from MAMA.

The VCR had very interesting transitions and glitches, literally throwback to the 2017 MAMA VCR. That barren one person scene reminded me of DNA.

DNA

MAMA VCR Screenshots

The last picture reminds me a bit of BST, like the part where Yoongi plays the organ. Here’s a reference photo.

More VCR screenshots just giving me the vibes of BST.

MAMA VCR Screenshots

BST MV screenshots

Then the VCR stopped and BTS performed N.O. a really throwback song followed by We are Bulletproof Pt. 2. Notice how the VCR changed to intro them performing N.O. the whole scratches reminds me of MAMA for some reason, MAMA being Hoseok’s short film. Honestly, I thought it was great because they showed everyone that this was their origins to their success and they never forgot about it despite being how big they are and how they got their popularity through other genres and not the original Hip-Hop kind that they were promoting back then. They had the iconic hands again.

After this, VCR continued to show the past meets the present. They showed the boys during backstage of the concert, during it and think about it as the way it was edited to be like Burn the Stage and Bring the Soul movies. Those kinds. They showed the Mnet debut showcase. ‘We doubted ourselves all the time, we tried to overcome the fear we encountered. They showed their first win on the music show with ‘I Need U’. ‘Dreams are our realities from now on.’ This was said by Namjoon. Now showing all of the Daesangs that they achieved throughout the years starting with 2016 and how Yoongi cried. ‘We are no longer sad or pain’.

Past meets present: World.

The Vcr showed the 7-veiled guys and this was their arrangement, Tae, Suga, Jin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok.

Do you not think this positioning of the veiled guys remind you of the fake love cloak stands. So from a clothes stand to a veiled person.

They then performed Boy with Luv and Mikrokosmos. During Mikrokosmos, they had stairs shown behind them before they pan out to the VCR again that started off with an hourglass. For some reason those veiled guys appear again and to be exact there are 7 of them. Not to mention the hourglass glitching giving me the BST JP. Vibes. When the phrase ‘all our time’ came out, they really had some collisions much like DNA.

cue the fake love MV with the smeraldo flower.

Look at the stairs behind them. I went to check and do some research etc. Based on this, the ladder is most commonly known to be the connection between heaven and earth. Notice how it’s heaven and not hell. There is no mention of the underworld or hell. But if we were to look at this, I did some more research about the symbolism of stairs in Greek mythology.

A lot of the references is that the ladders/stairs are to be the connector between heaven and earth; there was no mention again of the underworld. But another closer research showed this.

In the temples that have them, it seems likely that one stair was intended for ascending, the other for descending.

Here it talks about well, it’s a one-way kind of stairs, it’s not one where you can use the stairs for both up and down but rather a separate one. Also, these stairs were commonly found in temples of Zeus, Apollo, Aphrodite, Athena, Hera etc which if referred on top, are some of the Gods that the boys were speculating to be.

Yet, looking inside the article, they talked about ‘epiphany windows’ and my brain suddenly malfunctioned because epiphany windows????? E P I P H A N Y???

Epiphany provided an inherent sacredness and enhanced the-role of the temple in expressing sanctity.36 Even without actual "windows" forrestaging or framing events, epiphanies could be expected in and around temples.

An epiphany (from the ancient Greek ἐπιφάνεια, epiphanea, "manifestation, striking appearance") is an experience of a sudden and striking realization.

Reference

so again i did more research, epiphany in Greece is like the ‘festival of light’.

On Epiphany, the Greek Orthodox Church performs   the ‘Great Blessing of the Waters’.  This ceremony is usually performed twice, once on the eve of Epiphany which is performed in the church, and then again on the actual day outdoors with priests blessing large bodies of water, sea, rivers, lakes etc.

This reminded me of Jungkook with his performance with the water. But anywa, about epiphanies, I might just do another theory for that sometime later.

Now moving on,

Future meets present: Calling

Past meets present: World

They reiterated these two concepts back again at the end of the VCR.

Present meets future: Eternal Journey

Eventually they were all of the veiled guys but particularly Jimin was the first one.

All our time.

The VCR then showed the boys with props/items.

Hoseok -> Frame Yoongi -> Hourglass Jimin -> Polaroid Camera (Retro) Namjoon -> Mic Jungkook -> Recording Camera (Retro) Taehyung -> Violin Jin -> Opera spectacles

Interestingly, these items as seen from this Twitter are considered to be retro, they still remain relevant despite them looking old. However, if you were to think of it in relation to the HYYH universe, Hoseok’s frame that he held reminds me of the MAMA portrait that was shown in the short film of his called MAMA but at the same time it reminds me the link between Hoseok and Jimin as they both stare at the same picture

Yoongi’s hourglass does not hit much of resemblance upfront but if you were to consider the meaning of the hourglass which is to tell time, specifically how much time left. You would think of the pairing between Yoongi and Jungkook; in a way Jungkook was running out of time to save Yoongi. In some alternate universe, Jungkook failed to save Yoongi hence the I Need MV, and if you read based on the notes, the incidents between Yoongi and Jungkook do not happen all on the same day, but relatively near to each other. However in the Euphoria MV, it could be seen that Jungkook managed to save Yoongi, even in the webtoon series, Jin managed to save Yoongi as he found out what time was he going to die and which motel, but though Yoongi did not want to be alive.

Jimin’s retro polaroid camera, similar to Jungkook’s retro recording camera, they do not have much resemblance to the HYYH universe but rather their true personalities in which both Jimin and Jungkook engage in these kind of hobbies. Rather these things, coincidentally are more prominently found with Jin throughout the HYYH universe. In the HYYH Prologue and later on, Jin was the one known to have both a polaroid camera and a recording camera that he uses to capture the moments with the boys hence the idea of whether or not Seokjin was reliving the moments or not. (read Prologue theory here).

Before their last stage of Dionysus, the camera panned out and you see various animals as constellations eg goat, dolphin, lion, cheetah, goblet etc. Interestingly, if you look at here and here, it seemed as though Dionysus had the power to also transform into a lion or a bull and the latter shows that his symbols were leopard skin, panther and cheetah.

But the main one was the snake eg anaconda but the backup dancers were the ones in fedoras just like in MMA. thought that was an interesting edition.

anyway, throughout these 2 award shows, one could say they are riding on the whole Greek theology and concepts without ever culture appropriating it. i am sure they have been doing their own research and I can’t wait to see what else is in store for them.

References

JOURNAL ARTICLEINTERIOR STAIRCASES IN WESTERN GREEK TEMPLESMargaret M. MilesMemoirs of the American Academy in RomeVol. 43/44 (1998/1999), pp. 1-26Published by: University of Michigan Press for the American Academy in RomeDOI: 10.2307/4238755https://www.jstor.org/stable/4238755Page Count: 26 JOURNAL ARTICLEAnger and the Veil in Ancient Greek CultureD. L. CairnsGreece & RomeVol. 48, No. 1 (Apr., 2001), pp. 18-32Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of The Classical Associationhttps://www.jstor.org/stable/826867Page Count: 15

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