#'why do you think the inner palace has walls around it

[ericlovessharks]

the crown princess scandal is so good

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 延禧攻略/Story of Yanxi Palace.

Story of Yanxi Palace is a high-budget 2018 Chinese harem drama about the historical-accuracy-adjacent antics of an extremely baller young woman who gets a job working in the Forbidden City in an attempt to discover the reasons behind her sister's death.

Imagine Nirvana in Fire, but only the scenes that take place inside the Inner Palace. So there's still schemes aplenty, but now these schemes are happening among a cast that's 90% women, all locked inside a walled city with rigid rules, excruciatingly strict hierarchies, and a very limited number of ways of getting out alive.

This show was huge in China. The English-language fandom is almost nonexistent. I'm betting most of you reading this have never even heard of it, and if you have, you have only the vaguest idea of what this 70-episode palace drama is about.

I enjoyed this show a whole hell of a lot. I also had some major issues with the show, to the point where I very nearly did not write this rec. But I'm doing it because I think the good parts of the show are worth seeing, and because I think the problem parts of the show are worth thinking about. Interested? Then follow me through these five reasons (and a few anti-reasons) I think you should watch it.

1. The Real Housewives of the Forbidden City

Tired of c-drama sausage fests? Want to see a bunch of incredibly talented ladies act their faces off? Then this is the show for you.

The vast majority of characters in the show are absolute bitches to one another. They are locked in a cutthroat game of power and manners where the stakes are literally life and death, so they spend their whole lives either plotting to take someone else down or counterplotting so the person trying to take them down gets taken down instead. They all know they can't trust one another, but they also sometimes can't not trust one another. They keep their friends close, and their enemies closer.

Unlike most other schemes-based shows, which are all about one big mystery, Story of Yanxi Palace has several smaller arcs. Remember the sister-murder I mentioned at the start? I was prepared for that to take the whole runtime of the show to solve; it actually gets (mostly) concluded around episode twenty-something. Antagonists arise and fall. Situations happen and resolve. Think of it less like a movie's single narrative, and more like a video game's multiple levels. Hooray, we finished Garden World! Now we get to go back to Palace World, but with way more EXP and powerups than we had before!

I know that looks like a bunch of lovely, high-class ladies in that shot, but it's not. It's a pit of vipers. Any woman in that lineup would straight-up shank pretty much any other woman in that lineup without hesitation or remorse. Every woman there knows exactly where she fits in the hierarchy and has a detailed plan for how to take out every woman above her to get to the top -- except for the one in black, who already did take out every woman above her to get to the top, and that's why everyone has to ostentatiously defer to her now.

If you are a fan of TV shows where folk scheme their way to success, this is really a can't-miss property for you.

This is also a show about how smart women have to become to survive being at the mercy of stupid men. Not only are the women being vicious to one another, they're doing so while simultaneousy having to pretend that they are pretty, delicate, vapid ornaments whose only thoughts are how they want the best for their precious emperor and his beloved mommy. It's all about the exercise of soft power, how to hide your knives behind silk sleeves and a sweet smile.

So okay, it's not quite as trashy as reality TV, but it's still bitchy as hell and incredibly fun to watch.

2. You love to hate her (and her, and him, and her)

Now if you've read pretty much any one of my previous recs, you know I like a good baddie, and this is a show with some good baddies. As I said in the last point, this is a show about bad people doing bad things entertainingly.

However, I am not going to tell you who most of the show's love-to-hate characters are, because the vast majority of them do not start out hateable. If the show introduces a female character and you like her, or a eunuch character and you like him, there is like an 85% chance they're going to do a heel turn. (And then sometimes do a face turn after? Look, schemes are complicated.)

But I will tell you about one bitch who's rotten from her first moment to her last: Noble Consort Gao.

Noble Consort Gao is the scenery-chewing, shit-stirring, absolute meanest mean girl in the palace, and it is so fucking entertaining. She's your major antagonist for the first half of the show. She's strategically mean, but she's also recreationally mean. She does the anime villainess laugh for real. Her actor, Tan Zhuo, has set her bitch dial to 11 and isn't even bothering to chew the scenery -- she's shredding it with those incredible metal claw-nails she wears.

Noble Consort Gao is a good starting antagonist because she's so blatantly evil -- and yet somehow still unstoppable. She's a good example of how you can get away with being pretty much openly sinister if you also manage to mind your manners. The reason she gets away with being so damn awful to everyone else is that she's still playing by all the rules. She's managed to weaponize every convention about propriety to lord her power over everyone else. She's like a fucking HOA.

And you'll notice I'm speaking about her with such fondness because she's delightfully awful. In fact, pretty much everyone in this show is delightfully awful. There are exceptions, but on the whole, you want to see them go down, yet you're also going to be a little sad when they go. Even Noble Consort, by the end, you get where she's coming from, and you feel a little bad for her on the way out.

Do you like vengeance? Because we've got some vengeance for you here. Many, many people in this show have been wronged, often by the people they trusted most. And of course they all respond to this in a healthy manner, seeking justice for themselves and for their loved ones through proper channels and reasonable means.

Ha ha, just kidding, everybody here is completely unhinged! The primary difference between a good guy and a bad guy in this show is how many innocent people they wind up taking down with the guilty party. It's messy as hell and we are making popcorn about it.

This is a show full of villains. In fact, this cast is pretty much entirely bad guys, semi-bad guys, potential bad guys, and good people who had to do bad things to survive. There are maybe two non-child characters who are Just Plain Good that don't get nuked almost immediately. Everyone else is some shade of grey. Even our hero (and we'll get to her in a minute) is pretty yikes-inducing cruel when she needs to be.

Going to say this as clearly as I can: This is not a show for people who cannot tolerate moral ambiguity. This is a show for people who love to watch clever bastards work. And pretty much nobody's more of a bastard than Noble Consort Gao.

Ladies and gentlemen, the cunt is served.

3. No, seriously, this is actually what it all looked like

If you are at all interested in this actual time period, you owe it to yourself to see this dedicated work of historical recreation.

The amount of research and detail that went into this production is honestly mind-blowing. Because this show is set in the 18th century, we actually have some pretty great documentation about the places, objects, and people involved in this story -- including some (slightly later, obviously) photographs! The production went all out in its attempts to replicate the setting, including using period-appropriate techniques to create various accessories and objects.

The outfits are amazing -- and excruciatingly accurate in several aspects. I've seen more than a couple people say that their first reaction to the costumes was, ho hum, kind of boring. Well, yeah, compared to some of the absolutely bugfuck-complicated wearable works of art from earlier periods, these are a little understated. But then you start paying attention to the million little details: the embroidery, the hair ornaments, the layers, the fabrics. A whole team of people clearly put a huge amount of work into these outfits.

Nearly every royal character in the show is a real person. You could spoil yourself for several major plot beats just by going to Wikipedia. In fact, I accidentally did this, because I was reading the show's DramaWiki page and thought, oh, that's interesting; I understand why the actor names are links (because it takes you to the actors' pages), but why are so many of the character names also links? Turns out: Wikipedia! So, uh, careful where you click.

One of the great things about the show is how utterly claustrophobic it is. Most of it takes place within the heavily guarded walls of the Forbidden Palace; on the very few occasion it goes somewhere else, you're just traveling to other walled manors and villas. There's one brief scene in a forest, and the psychological difference is enormous. You see a few trees and you're immediately like, oh, so that's why these women are going crazy in their gilded cages.

The drama even shows how some of the least glamorous parts of the Forbidden Palace work: the chamber pots, the coal for furnaces, the mopping, the weeding, the laundry, the fire brigades. It's an enormous production, keeping what is basically a 178-acre city-state running to imperial standards. It's nice to see a drama that acknowledges that while rich people may want to see only clean walkways and fresh sheets, those things don't happen by magic.

If anything, knowing about all this detailed research makes the unintentionally funniest scene in the entire show -- the one with the eunuchs playing Western instruments -- ten times funnier. You had artisans spending months doing exact recreations of historical hairpins, and you couldn't spend thirty seconds asking the internet "when were saxophones invented?" or "does an accordion make noises like a string quartet?" Perfect. No notes.

Trust me when I say you'll get used to the queue haircuts on the dudes. It helps that most of the time, they're facing the camera so they just look like they've got their heads fully shaved, and most of them have heads that look very good shaved! ...Most.

4. The kind of girl who'd make Mei Changsu say damn

The show has a strong ensemble cast, but the woman at the core of all the action is the tough-as-nails protagonist, Wei Yingluo.

The details we have on the actual Lady Wei are sparse. She doesn't really exist as a person in the historical record, to the point where we don't even know her given name (if she even had one) or when she showed up to the palace. We mostly know when she got given her titles, how many kids she gave birth to, some of what she did later in life, and when she died. The show takes these historical gaps and just runs with them, weaving into the silences a narrative that, while implausible, could have happened!

The show starts when Wei Yingluo enters the Forbidden City, not as a royal lady concubine, but as a regular little maid. She's got an agenda, though -- as mentioned earlier, her sister has died tragically, and she wants to figure out why. The stakes get higher as it becomes clear just how much people don't want this question answered, for their sakes as much as for hers.

She very quickly realizes that she can't just live a quiet life and snoop around casually. Too many people are out to get her, and if she's going to survive, she's got to fuck with them before they fuck with her. And they are wholly unprepared for the self-destructive lengths to which she will go to to fuck with them.

Wu Jinyan deserves all the accolades for turning in a great performance. She has to be completely all over the board emotionally and energy-wise for seventy whole episodes, and she brings it. She's very funny and physical when the show calls for her to be! She's willing to flail around and stuff her face and ugly-cry. Then she turns on the don't-mess-with-me stare and the temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Did she get some award for this? [checks her DramaWiki page] Okay, she got several awards for this, good. Even in a huge cast this talented, she's an absolute standout. I can't wait to see her in the Double, which is definitely on my to-watch list.

I'm not going to call Wei Yingluo a Mary Sue, because that's not accurate, but this girl does have some serious plot armor on. You never get the sense that she hasn't earned it, though. She's smart, capable, and more than a little completely fucking crazy. The show makes you believe that the reason she survives most of the shit she pulls off is that everyone is just so baffled that anyone would try it at all that they don't even know how to respond.

I thought about starting out this rec post with Wei Yingluo -- putting her above the cut, in fact, because she really is that compelling. She's back here, though, because it's with Wei Yingluo that we start to slide into my points of critique. Too often, female protagonists are here to solve the problem with their cuteness and quirkiness and extra-special perfectness that shows up all the other girls and captures the heart of whatever boy she needs to save the day. And no matter how this show starts off wanting to make her something different, it ultimately can't conceive of a female lead who isn't at her core just like that.

The writers can never decide how much Wei Yingluo's Manic Pixie Dream Girl act is an act, and how much she means it. The show introduces her as a stone-cold psychopath who is capable of feigning being a carefree brainless uwu smol bean. Later it decides, actually, she's really at her core a spunky, soft-hearted creature who likes to goof off and is just capable of switching on Scheming Bitch Mode when she needs it! And it's like, are you kidding? You just spent like forty episodes telling me that it's all a big trick when she does this, and now you're saying it's not anymore?

It's like they made a character capable of decieving men, and then got decieved by her, which you have to respect. Any fictional character can fool another fictional character; only true legends fool their creators.

sidebar: fuck that dude

The show can never fully commit to this bit, because he's supposed to be our big heroic love interest, but the emperor fucking sucks.

Hands-down the show's biggest moral is that All Emperors Are Bastards -- yes, even the ones in relationships we're supposed to find cute; yes, even the ones whose lifestyles we're supposed to envy; yes, even the ones played superbly by the devastatingly handsome Nie Yuan. While watching we repeatedly invoked this tweet:

Being a billionaire must be insane. You can buy new teeth, new skin. All your chairs cost 20,000 dollars and weigh 2,000 pounds. Your life is just a series of your own preferences. In terms of cognitive impairment it's probably like being kicked in the head by a horse every day

He is the dumbest, most easily played motherfucker in China. Getting horny makes him stupid, and he's horny all the time. He has absolute power over the lives of everyone in the empire, and you can distract him with the mere suggestion of a vagina. He has taken a full You Girls Fight It Out Amongst Yourselves stance toward his scheming harem. This will not go well for anyone.

And speaking of those wives, no matter how many times they loudly profess their undying devotion to him, I have a rough time imagining these women feel anything for the Emperor beyond exhausted contempt. Well, okay, maybe the Empress who married him before he took the throne, since she had a chance to get to know him before he was in full Emperor Mode. But none of the other women should ever stop dunking on this guy like the gullible shitbag he is. If you (like me!) are already skeptical about any given heterosexual romance in fiction, be prepared to roll your eyes through the Big True Love Story this one tries to sell you.

5. Right on the cusp of a fascinating feminist conclusion!

I may be on this one for a while; skip ahead if you like.

Okay, so: What little English-language buzz I've seen about this show has used the word "feminist" about it -- mostly in conjunction with how the show's popularity made the CCP sour on its failure to portray appropriate communist values (???). So I went into it expecting feminism! And I got a show with a whole bunch of female characters in it! And hoo boy, are those two things not necessarily the same!

This show is a great example of how merely passing the Bechdel-Wallace Test doesn't make something feminist. Sure, it's mostly about a single woman who, through her plucky nature, rises in the ranks of power. But that is feminist only by the shallowest, most girlboss, Lean-In-ass definition of the word.

At the beginning, you can kinda tell this was written, produced, and directed by men. By the time you get to the end, you can absolutely tell that the production team was dudes from top to bottom. This, to me, is the big tell: that the show cannot conceive that anything these women are doing could be interesting unless it's trying to stab another woman in the back. There is a time jump very near the end, where the few female characters still standing agree to stop being shitty to one another -- and then fast-forward a decade, because why would we care about seeing what their lives are like when they're not being shitty to one another?

The show is incredibly constrained by Actual History. At the end of the day, it's a Cinderella story, and as such, we have to cheer for the social and legal mechanisms that make it possible -- even when they're grotesquely misogynistic. The show lets its female characters pay lip service to how awful it is that women are little more than breeding stock, but it doesn't let them do anything about it. Mothers can be obliquely sad that their daughters are being fed to the same patriarchy machine that fucked them up, but talking is the most they can accomplish ... because those daughters were real people who were actually fed into the patriarchy machine. We know this. We have documentation. China is very good at keeping receipts.

Wei Yingluo starts out as a servant, and throughout the first half of the show, she moves up and down in the servant ranks -- and all the while it makes the point that being a servant fucking sucks. Maybe it's better when you get to work directly under someone you really like, but the actual job sucks shit and puts you at the mercy of everyone above you in the palace hierarchy. Your life is not your own. You're barely a person. You can easily get executed for merely working in the same household as someone who broke the rules.

The feminist answer to this dilemma is to notice that the system is bad and either a) refuse to participate in it, or b) use your power to mitigate its badness. The show, however, clearly thinks that the real problem with this whole setup is that the people we like aren't at the top of it. Somebody has to take the abuse; you just don't want that somebody to be you. Once Wei Yingluo gets to a place of real power in the palace hierarchy, she starts behaving very much like the people who used to be shitty to her and takes no steps to prevent the early-show damage she suffered from happening to other people.

Now: You can make the argument that if she'd done all those radical things, she would've been dead meat -- and I think you'd be correct! But the show never indicates that it gives a second thought to how abusive and unfair this all is. Survival in this system means exploiting the people below you. There's not a neutral option. And this show expects you to cheer for exploiting the "right" people.

The show never quite seems to internalize what the stakes are -- at least, not for more than a moment or two at a time. I made the Real Housewives joke because the show more or less treats the consort-on-consort schemes as fun catfights by mean girls wanting to be the prom queen. It almost gets to the point of realizing that a woman's place in the harem is literal life-and-death shit for her, and that if she can't produce a son and work him into a powerful position, she's fucked. It always bunts when it gets there, though, choosing to play up vanity and petty grievances instead of the absolute desperation these women must be feeling.

It gets so close with Consort Shun to a real discussion about how awful it is that the men in their lives see them as pretty objects to be bartered for favor and power with other men. But it can't fully go there, because that would undermine the structures propping up this Cinderella story, and then we couldn't feel good about the Cinderella story. And we want to feel good about the Cinderella story. We will burn every other female character in the show if we get to feel good about the Cinderella story.

I've made a lot of jokes about lesbians in this show, but the truth is, it is chronically deficient in lesbianism. Lesbian sex would have improved the lives of at least half the characters here, if not more. Unlike a lot of other historical c-drama shows, Yanxi Palace acknowledges the reality and possibility both male and female same-sex sexual desire -- but it does so in order to say that both are bad. (I legitimately cannot tell if the production is doing this to show how regrettably anti-gay the past was or to play on the audience's expected homophobic disgust. I suspect the latter, but I genuinely don't know.) While it does the fascinating thing of showing desire and coupled relationships between women and eunuchs, it has no idea how queer those setups are, nor does it acknowledge the possibility for same-sex pairings to fill that same positive dynamic.

So why on earth would I list this whole mess of problematic attitudes as a reason for, and not against, watching the show?

Because it is fascinating to think about. Look, I've burned a lot of time and brainpower here writing several paragraphs that no one is ever going to read about how interesting the show's moves are. It has the weird problem where it understands what happens when you lock a bunch of women together in a high-pressure situation keyed to a brutal hierarchy -- but it doesn't ever appear to quite get why. At least, not beyond the sense that people will claw their way to the top of any hierarchy they have access to, just because it's there. (Watch how it treats the few exceptions to this, the rare nonambitious characters. See how long they stay nonambitious.)

As I said when I labeled this point, the show is just on the edge of a smart conclusion, and that smart conclusion has to do with how awful it is that women are both the people who suffer most under heteropatriarchy and the people who work the hardest to uphold it.

Yes, the world into which these women have been thrust is awful. But they make it ten times more awful because they're all semi-voluntarily engaged in a vicious, Highlander-esque zero-sum competition. They could cut one another some slack, but they're more invested in continuing the cycle of abuse to maintain an intense, repressive order. The ones that try to be kind about it get repeatedly fucked by the ones who have no interest in kindness. They all have to engage in performative rituals that mimic sincerity without actually producing a single genuine emotion toward one another. It's horrifying and paranoia-inducing in the extreme. And they're doing most of it to themselves.

If it were really feminist, the moral of the Story of Yanxi Palace would be it does't have to be like this. This dynamic is not inevitable; this is a choice perpetuated by generations of people who benefit from it just enough not to question its correctness.

Sadly, there's still enough promise in patriarchy that being a Good Girl will save you from the shit we put the Bad Girls through -- so don't you want to be a Good Girl? All we need you to do is throw all those icky Bad Girls under the bus. It's their fault for being Bad Girls anyway. But you? You don't have to be afraid. We're not going to hurt you. You deserve all the good things we're giving you. You're not like all the other girls. You're different. You're special.

Just don't forget to watch your back.

If anything, I think the CCP is terribly wrong: This show is an excellent demonstration of communist values, in that if these women had just joined together in solidarity, all their lives would have been so much better! The Emperor should have been posting helplessly on Reddit like "My (55M) consorts (40F, 36F, 31F, 28F, 22F, 19F) have unionized" so the entire internet could come for his ass.

Care to watch?

This is another of those shows you can find in a whole bunch of places! Here's the ones I know about:

YouTube

TVBAnywhere

Viki

Tubi

iQiyi

I know seventy episodes is a commitment. I know eighteenth-century palace drama is a lot. I know that last selling point of mine seemed to go on for-fucking-ever and you probably didn't read any of it. But this show is a beautiful work that I think more people should see, warts and all. Besides, if all we ever consume is ideologically "pure" media, how do we learn to think critically about anything?

True story: My Chinese colleague, knowing I was watching this show, taught me slang for "lesbian." It's 拉拉 (lala). Very useful.

[loremaster-lavellan]

The Snow Prince - Part 3

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

At eight years old, Ydhedhor has little patience for mundane things like arithmetic and poetry. Even the lessons which take him outdoors don’t satisfy the urge to move and play – much better to climb a tree than memorize the alchemical properties of its bark and leaves. His tutors lay blame on Jedwe whose buoyant personality – and plain dislike of academics – proves disruptive to the prince’s studious habits. When left to their own devices, which is frequently, the siblings seek Ydhedhor and join in his activities, dull or not. At least Girwith, the tutors agree, makes relevant comments. Sympathy is high among the tutors today, and the prince does try to mind them, so they free the children to pursue other activities.

“We should go to the Chantry,” Girwith suggests.

Jedwe makes a face. “Why?”

“I wanna see what Father’s doing.”

“He said he’s cleaning.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Did too.”

“Well I’m going.” Girwith turns resolutely and walks away, one hand hoisting her bound leg to move faster. Moments later, Jedwe follows, grumbling, and Ydhedhor, just happy to be in the company of friends, follows with less disdain.

There is only one path to the Chantry. Exiting the palace, it joins with the road from the city and becomes a long, arched bridge crossing a river currently swollen with springtime meltwater. Past the bridge, twin staircases ascend around a towering statue of Auri-El and meet at the foot of two grand, bronze doors that always makes Ydhedhor think of feathers. Into soaring walls of curves and points are cut trios of tall, narrow windows filled with colorful glass.

Over the course of this journey, any gripes between them are replaced with the spontaneous games of eight-year-old boys. They play hopscotch on the stones, drop sticks into the river, and by the time they reach the Chantry’s doors, they’re lost in a game that involves long stretches of silence before one falls into the other and both burst into giggles. At the door, Girwith shushes them.

Beyond the doors are three wide rooms connected by pointed archways. On their walls are relief carvings telling the story of their ancestors’ arrival to Pin Darre and the construction of their kingdom. Hallways branch off the rooms, all decorated with other stories of the Snow Elf people. Visitors and pilgrims wander quietly. Some are kneeling, too lost in their prayers to notice the children passing by.

Past the third room, separated by another set of feather doors, is the Inner Sanctum. The whole room is a dome of marbled glass tempered to keep out the weather and crafted to always reflect light. White marble makes the floor, and in the center of the floor, three steps form a hexagonal ring around a stone dome. A bronze sunburst sits atop the dome’s point, its edges catching the noon sun through the glass roof.

Prelate Sikaris stands before the dome, his back to the door, and in a low voice he finishes a prayer. Then he waves his hand, and a mote of light flies from his palm to the sunburst and vanishes. With quiet footsteps, the siblings trot over to him.

Girwith slips her hand into her father’s. “Jedwe said you’re cleaning, but I said you’re not,” she informs him in a whisper. Not even the siblings dare disturb the peace of the Sanctum with raised voices.

Jedwe defends himself. “You said you had to clean the wayshrine!”

Sikaris looks at his eldest and blinks slowly. “I said I had to sanctify the wayshrine.”

“What’s ‘sanctify’ mean?”

“It means I’m preparing the wayshrine for special use by performing a ceremonial . . . cleansing ritual.”

“Yeah! Cleaning!”

The Prelate’s mouth forms a thin line. “Is there a reason for your being here?”

“What’s a wayshrine?” asks Ydhedhor.

Seeing him, Sikaris bows. “It’s a doorway, my Prince.”

“Where does it go?”

“To the other islands.” Arch-Curate Sidazius enters the Inner Sanctum. He’s an old man, but none could call him feeble, and the white and gold robes hung upon still and straight shoulders command a respect that Ydhedhor only remembers his mother getting. The prince thinks him strange. Jedwe and Girwith fall silent. Sikaris bows deeply. Sidazius regards the children with his hands clasped behind his back and continues, “There is one in each Chantry and each site which holds great significance to our people, all connected by magic. Hasn’t your father told you about them?”

Ydhedhor shakes his head.

“A shame. It’s good for the soul to embark on a pilgrimage from time to time. I know your mother looked forward to taking you.” Nodding sympathetically, Sidazius directs his attention towards the siblings. “In any case, it’s good to see our youth in the Chantry. Do they express interest in our work?”

“More or less,” answers Sikaris.

Sidazius looks down at Girwith. “Are you still saying your prayers?”

“Yes, Sir.” Girwith doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Good girl. Show your devotion, and perhaps Auri-El will lift the curse he placed upon your leg.”

Ydhedhor furrows his eyebrows. “Why would Auri-El do that?” he wonders.

The Arch-Curate turns back to the prince. “The machinations of Auri-El are varied and complex. However, many things are known to those who communicate with him.”

“Do you?” Even as he says it, Ydhedhor isn’t sure if it’s a question or . . . something else. He doesn’t know the words to explain it, but he knows he doesn’t like the way the Arch-Curate speaks to his friend.

If Sidazius has a reply, it’s interrupted by the arrival of Vyrre whose entrance prompts a third bow from Sikaris and a first from the Arch-Curate. Acknowledging both, the Prince-Regent stops behind his son and puts his hands firmly on his shoulders.

“Is the wayshrine prepared?”

“Yes, Regent.” Sikaris motions to the dome. “The Gardeners have been notified, and I shall speak the invocation at your command.”

Vyrre nods permissively, and Sikaris turns to the dome. The Prelate utters a phrase in an unfamiliar language and raises his hand palm-out to the dome, and as he does, a sound like a small bell echoes in the Inner Sanctum. The bell is followed by a grinding noise, and the dome rises up from the floor until the wayshrine is entirely visible. Through the only open side, Ydhedhor watches one of the stone walls within warp and shift to show the wobbly scene of a forest. Fascinated, the eight-year-old leaves his father’s side and runs around the wayshrine, looking for the image on the outside, and finding nothing but stone goes back to the opening and peers at it from the inside.

The boy looks to his father. “What is that?”

“Would you like to find out?”

“Yes!”

PART 4

[goodhealthyshiningcara]

Ok I'm going to weigh in on this (always a bad idea) because I think it's strawmanning allistic eye rolling (new sentence never before said).

The up and down flick (↕️), the complete roll(🔄), and, unmentioned, the DIAGONAL flick (henceforth ↗️), are all DISTINCT MOVES, with DISTINCT PURPOSES.

Preface: Im not going to say something like "nice try autists, but you've fallen for my biggest trick yet: unwritten social cues!" To justify why the phenomena I'm describing are distinct, so please also do me the courtesy of acknowledging that even allistics are not always 100% masters of social cues (and I am certainly not 100% of either!) so maybe the people ↕️ing around you are mere babes, children not yet grown, who do truly mean to 🔄, but whose unsteady motions betray them. But I think not.

Preface the second: ↕️ and 🔄 exist on a spectrum, and up then to the side, i.e a mix of the two, tends to be be the accepted implementation, since ↕️ actually has non-🔄 uses. 🔄 Is a subset of ↕️ in other words.

Also, one more nitpick: an up and down motion is still rolling back and forwards, and thus is still Technically an eye roll. It rolls backwards (up) then it rolls forwards (down), like, you know, a rolling pin? (Checkmate, autists) You didn't interpret things more literally, you just interpreted them less flexibly. Also, I don't want anyone to say the words pitch or yaw in the notes, those are not words that people know or use.

Ok. Eye rolling.

🔄 is a highly exclusive maneuver, in particular because it's very exaggerated, too much so for everyday use. It is used for emphasis, when a "normal" eye roll (↕️ or ↗️) would be insufficient. In a normal eye roll, there is an implication that you are looking for something (like a 4th wall break, or a higher power, or inner strength etc). With 🔄, that implication is exaggerated to make a point (I'm looking ANYWHERE for a possible reason to respect what I just heard), but it's all for show because actually, rolling your eyes like that doesn't let you see anything; it's purely for drama. It's also a bit combative, imo, because a less exaggerated version exists (↕️) for when faux-annoyance is called for.

↕️: This is the most common eye roll, and it is meant to communicate exasperation, with the implications described above, but also "I am containing my rage/annoyance by not looking at your dumb face for one second, for even such a brief reprieve will save me relative aeons of torment". Similarly "If I look up here, I can pretend I didn't see what you just said". It's also a way of saying "sigh, this shit again." This is what people tend to use because it's easier and less dramatic, and conveys everything 🔄 does. It is still some amount of dramatic however, and not something to be used with a stranger/within a professional relationship unless you want to seem hostile/rude. Importantly, you can roll your eyes in agreement with someone, and that's fine to do, and actually very sympathetic if you pull it off.

↗️: now I posit that this exists as actually a more thoughtful version of ↕️, almost like 🤔. It's like, hm, I have to mentally track and analyze what you just said because it's somewhat confusing or complicated. In this case, you're looking away not because you are fucking tired of someone's clown -looking mug, but because you need to think and are trying to NOT receive more information from them. You are saying "timeout, wtf are the implications of that". Your eyes are leaving the spatial plane occupied by your co-conversator to linger in the middle distance so your brain can catch up. ↘️ Works for this too. You may instead be putting important information in your memory palace for later, in a diagonal location. Like ok, I am remembering what was just told to me. Typically this is something you just "pepper in" to a conversation so as not to interrupt your conversation partner, and it may require you to say "ok, noted, got it" etc afterwards. Can be used to tease by doing it ironically of course.

In summary:

They are all eye rolls, they occupy specific body-language niches, your art has failed you, and you were insufficiently literal.

[softly-potter]

Still Friends | Chapter 13: Backstabber

Summary: After a chance encounter at a party, Wanda and Bucky find they have more in common than they realized.

This fic is heavily inspired by 'Friends' by my lovely friend Poppy. She is aware of this fic and I've been given permission for this marvel-version retelling! If you haven't read her dramione fic 'Friends', I HIGHLY suggest it. I fell in love with the story and couldn't help but wonder, what if it was Wanda and Bucky instead of Hermione and Draco? Thus "Still Friends" was born. Enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky X Wanda

Word Count: 33,068

Warning: smut, drug use, depression

A/N: Find the rest of the chapters here; Chapter 1: Greetings | Chapter 2: Unloading | Chapter 3: Cherries | Chapter 4: Worth the Wait | Chapter 5: Books | Chapter 6: Grief | Chapter 7: Unlikely | Chapter 8: Happy Birthday, Solider | Chapter 9: A Christmas Moment | Chapter 10: The Best Holiday | Chapter 11: Permission | Chapter 12: Revitalize | Chapter 14: Luck of the Dead | Chapter 15: Pain Reliever | Chapter 16: Apologize | Chapter 17: Specially Gifted | Chapter 18: New Day

-

It’s like being punched through the chest; that's the only way he can think of describing it. His heart thrums in his ears as he tears from the lab, eyes searching the corridors widely. Numbers are labeled above each door, and he runs past them, taking in the numbers.

B3

B2

B1

A12

A11

It’s becoming increasingly hard to breathe, but his mind has converted to mission mode. He’s afraid he’ll never lose that, the inability to differentiate real life from a mission.

But Wanda is his mission; his only mission.

A10

A9

Bucky racks his brain, trying to find any excuse, any reason as to why she’s doing this. How her ex-husband is alive. Bucky pales because he realizes Vision isn’t her ex-husband. He’s just her husband, alive again

A8

He needs to hear her say it. Admit that she doesn’t have any fucking friends, that she left him to come here. But why? But how?

He reads the letters A7 above the doorway and something snaps in Bucky. He kicks open the door, the hinges breaking partially. Wanda whips around, her face hard in frustration until she realizes who it is.

Please, not tonight. I just need you.

May I give you a hug?

Anyway’s Love loves Joe, even though she finds out some dark stuff about him. She loves him no matter what.

More, more, please more.

I love you, James.

Liar.

She could have messed around with anyone she wanted, but she’d chosen him that night on Wilson's steps. Did she always plan on doing this, going back to Vision?

She’s holding her hands out now, saying words that Bucky can’t register. Brows knitted together, she stands slowly, arms extended. Behind her, Vision is still on his haunches, eyes starring blankly ahead.

Bucky’s face feels electric, his rage bubbling to the surface. Her lips are moving, but he still can’t hear her, anger ringing through his ears.

But he can see that her lips are swollen, damp.

Like she’s been freshly kissed.

The realization comes over him like a wave, and his heart aches, pounding in his chest as his eyes begin to water. He wants to scream, grab her and shake her, demand for her to explain what the fuck was going on.

Instead, his eyes begin to water. He feels his inner walls beginning to crack, the little palace he’d built for himself that protected him, kept him focused, kept him breathing, was beginning to fall apart.

Wandas shaking her head, face flicking between his and Visions. Vision blinks at her, nods slowly, his head lulling to the side, and Bucky cannot fathom how Visions is able to understand what’s happening but he can’t. His mind is fuzzy, heart beating way too fast to be considered normal.

She’s supposed to be mine now. You had your time with her.

“Bucky.”

He blinks, finally being able to comprehend her words. “Bucky, I promise I can -“

He opens his mouth, but no words come out, not one. He doesn’t know what to say.

And then Vision looks up, blinks once before saying. “Who’s this, my love?"

Bucky had many ideas of how he’d get his heartbroken, but this had never been one of them. He just hadn’t thought she was capable of inflicting this much pain.

He felt his world slowly becoming black and white again, the colors fading to near shades.

Tears cloud his eyes.

“Honey,” she’s standing close now, her hand pressing on his chest. Her touch is light, but its normal soothing reaction is gone. “Can w-we talk outside?”

Her eyes are wide, tears spilling as he feels her hand shake against him. He can hear her words loud and clear now, can understand she’s speaking to him, but the rage currently coursing through his veins is nothing short of a fire.

Wandas pushes him slightly towards the door, glancing at Vision and tosses him a watery smile before turning back to Bucky, urging him.

Her face is a painting of sorrow and she looks so regretful, so hurt. If it hurts so badly why did she come here in the first place?

Why did she lie?

Why couldn’t she stay with him?

But as his heart threatens to explode from his chest, he knows why.

Suddenly she’s kissing him, arms wrapped around his neck and her lips are filled with quiet mummers of I'm sorry and damp tears. He doesn’t kiss her back, arms dangling at his sides, legs stiff in the hallway.

When her tongue swipes against his mouth tentatively, it's like he’s been plugged in and charged up; he springs to life, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and wrenching her away. She sobs as he takes a step back away from her, and his breathing is ragged.

Her cheeks are slightly pink, brows furrowed as her green eyes fill with tears and her heartbreak is clearly showing.

Why is her heart breaking? She did this, she chose this.

“Is it him?” It’s a shattered whisper, but it’s all he can do without crying. She opens her mouth to answer, but he interjects. “Don’t fucking lie to me."

She’d done enough of that already.

“I- please..” She says, and she’s visibly shaking.

Bucky's eyes flick to the door, wondering if Vision is listening. If he’s worried about his wife.

“I can explain.” Wanda sobs, wiping at her eyes. She takes a step towards him and he flinches. Shutting his eyes, Bucky turns away from her, gritting his teeth so hard he thinks they’ll break.

He needs answers, but he isn’t sure he can handle them.

One foot after the other, he strides away from her, from Vision, from the confusion that is the entire damn building. She calls after him, her footsteps echoing as she jogs to keep up with his strides.

“Bucky please,” Wanda cries, gripping onto his forearm. He pauses, and lets her turn him around. “Let me explain, please.”

Seeing her act as if this all isn’t because of her, because she chose this, makes his anger only burn hotter. She cries harder, squeezes his hand to listen to her.

“In Westview, I had made a Vision. I-i don’t know, I just…missed him, and kept getting knocked down over and over and he just, appeared.” She sobs, explaining with her hand pressed to her chest. “He was there and we were in the 50’s and I finally had what I wanted. And just as quickly, it was over, this beautiful, magnificent life. It was just gone.” She’s rambling, hoping the truth will forgive her sins. “i couldn’t just let it go.”

He doesn’t say anything, lets her hold his hand to her, lets her say her piece. “They brought him back, his body at least. And somehow, my Vision returned. We’ve been working on it for so long and then he just-”

“How long have you been trying to resurrect your dead husband?” He spits the words, and she jerks back like he’s hit her.

If you love someone, you forgive them, knowing that everyone makes a mistake.

But this wasn’t a mistake; this had been purposeful.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry.” She tries to sooth him, tries to apologize, but he’s learning her tricks, and sees right through her.

“Tell me what you’ve been doing.” His voice is calm, quiet, but his blood is loud in his ears. “Tell me how long.”

“Bucky,” she sobs, wiping at her eyes again. She searches his face, still holding his hand. He glances where they’re joined, and it just hurts. “I couldn’t just leave him.”

His chest is burning, and he yanks his hand away.

“He was already gone!” He cries, and his throat aches. “Why did you tell me you love me then? Why did you do any of this?”

She puts her closed fist on her chest, her knees wobbling, and he hates seeing her like this, hates when she isn’t smiling.

His resolve is slowly crumbling, he couldn’t stay angry. Not with her. No matter how badly she was killing him.

“Tell me, Wanda.” He says, can feel his eyes swimming. “Just tell me.”

Her chin wobbles, and the wave of anger begins to collapse. He takes a step towards her, hand brushing the ends of her elbow. She lets out a sob.

“I love you,” her voice cracks as she looks down at his hand on her arm. “But…Vision..”

“Don’t give me the whole story, just tell me what you were planning.” He says lowly, cupping her other elbow. “What was the end result?”

He has a feeling he knows. It’s an answer he’s been dreading their whole relationship; if you could even call it that at this point.

A relationship is doubled sided. This wasn’t.

“Bucky, it’s always going to be him,” she chokes out, closing the space between them and pressing her forehead to his chest. “I am so sorry.”

He feels the tear fall down his cheek before he realizes it, and it drops to her hair. His hand shakes as he places it on her head gently, lightly stroking. Bleeding internally means you die slower than you realize. He’s pretty sure that's what’s happening.

“Why not me?"

She heaves, and her whole body is shaking. No matter how badly he’s hurting, no matter the circumstances he will always hate when she cries; she’s too pretty to cry.

Glancing up, her eyes are red, cheeks puffy as she tries to answer. Her pain is everywhere, etched into every part of her skin.

He thinks he should apologize.

“We - we never established anything, we were just…fucking.” Her eyes are rimmed red, her mouth set. “We aren’t together.”

Her words ring in his ears. After everything, every kiss, every nightmare, every single moment that they’d gone through. None of it was real; and he couldn’t fathom it.

“So what the fuck were we, Wanda?” He says, voice sounding stronger than he feels. “Fucking friends?"

“I don’t - I don’t know,” she nods. “You’re my best friend, still my best friend, my rock. You’re a miracle, Bucky.”

“And what is he?” He demands, but can’t find it in himself to push her away. She ducks her head, presses her cheek to his chest as she cries.

For a moment he thinks she won’t answer, that she doesn’t have an answer. Squeezing him around the middle, he feels her heart thumping wildly. “He’s everything."

The words physically hit him, the pain so harsh its like acid has been thrown on him. He cannot handle this; he cannot breath. His only thought as he listened to her cry, is that this could have all been avoided.

“Get away from me,” he whispers after a few moments, dropping his arms from around her shoulders but she doesn’t let go, just holds him tighter. “Get off.”

Grip loose, she takes a small step back. He grips her face in one hand, his fingers splaying across her lovely cheeks and her watery eyes grow wide.

“When?” He demands. “How long have you been doing this behind my back?”

“Since Westview,” she replies, not even avoiding the question. She knows she can’t anymore. “I’m sorry.”

Two years; since the beginning. Since their beginning.

His legs threaten to buckle, they’re unable to hold up this much grief, and he realizes he’s about to break. So he turns, and begins to walk the way he had come. Tears stream down his face, hands shaking without his consent.

Two. Fucking. Years.

His head is ringing with her claim.

All the times that she’d comforted him, kissed him, made love to him; it was all void. Her body had been with him, but her heart?

It would always be Visions.

Bucky enters the partially destroyed lab, glass crunching as he stomps past Clint and Laura, flinging open the door so hard the knob cracks into the wall.

With the night sky approaching, he shuts his eyes as he stands outside the front doors, taking in a breath. It’s silent aside from the wind, aside from his broken heart that's still beating.

He wished it would stop.

Glancing around he opts to walk, hands dug in his pockets, before Wanda bursts through the exit, her eyes and hands rimmed with red magic. She was still crying, and he wished he could console her, could take her in his arms and kiss the pain away, even if she was the one who caused it.

“I love you, I do,” she gasps, eyes rapid. “Don’t do this.”

“Stop lying to me,” he had lost any restraint, his patience thinning. “You couldn’t have loved me while this whole time, you were still trying to find him.”

It all makes sense now, when he thinks about it. The late nights, the sudden group of friends and work meetings and ‘girls nights’. She didn’t have friends, she was too busy for them; she was only around him if they were intimate. He thinks back to the times when they were just spending time together, having dinner or watching a show. She had always ended up on top of him, tongue in his mouth or sighing beneath him. Was that all he’d been to her? A warm body to make her feel something?

He’s so angry, so fucking confused.

Wanda looks at him, and he realizes she’s still crying. Why is she still crying? Her husband is back.

Setting his jaw, Bucky takes her in one more time, before turning around and starting the walk back to his home, the small box heavy in his pocket.

[raewritez]

for the want of the sun | chapter thirteen: flower crowns and goodbyes

masterlist

It’s evening when Zuko returns, the last beams of light clinging to the bristles of trees and the swell of the clouds. I’ve been holed up in this cave for hours, back against the mossy stone, watching the sky roll by with little entertainment except for my imagination. I see a bird rise from the ground, its feathers a sunset sort of orange, and I can pretend for a moment that I fly away with it.  Iroh’s here, too, but he’s quieter than usual. Not less cheery, but I think traveling has been taking a toll on him. He sits in the shadows tending to a pot of soup, humming a cheerful melody.

When Zuko arrives he pulls a sack from his back, the contents spilling onto the floor. I raise my eyebrows at the quantity of food, the pots and pans, and a new tea set. “Where’d you get this?” I ask, reaching for a lychee nut and rolling it between my fingers.

Zuko doesn’t look at me. “Shopping,” he grunts.

Iroh glances up at his nephew. “But where did you get the money?”

Zuko doesn’t answer, walking next to me and leaning lazily against the wall of the cave. “Do you like your new teapot?”

Iroh smiles, face weary. “To be honest, the best tea tastes delicious whether it comes in a porcelain pot or a tin cup.” He walks over to us, clasping Zuko’s shoulder. His eyes are kind. “I know we’ve had some difficult times lately. We’ve had to struggle just to get by. But it is nothing to be ashamed of. There is a simple honor in poverty.”

Zuko scoffs, “There’s no honor for me without the Avatar.”

“Zuko,” Iroh sighs. “Even if you did capture the Avatar, I’m not so sure it would solve our problems. Not now.”

Zuko shrugs his hand off roughly, stepping away. “Then there’s no hope at all.” I keep quiet, not wanting to intrude on their conversation. Zuko’s princely troubles are ones I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fully understand, no matter how much I care. I don’t have the responsibility he does.

When Zuko turns to leave, Iroh pulls him back. “No, Zuko! You must never give into despair. Allow yourself to slip down that road and you surrender to your lowest instincts. In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength.” Zuko only glares, pulling away from his hand. He storms off, and Iroh sighs sadly.

I stand to meet him, putting an arm around his shoulder in a loose hug. I look down at him - when did I become the taller one? I remember holding on to his leg when I was little, Zuko on the other, to keep him from leaving. My memories often feel more like dreams, something I came up with to pass the time in the lonely halls of the palace. I have to convince myself, sometimes, that it was true, that it was real. I offer him a smile. “He’ll be okay, he just needs some time.”

Iroh nods, patting my hand with warm fingers. “He struggles to see the good. He always has, ever since he was banished.”

I nod, staring off into the field where he disappeared. “Yeah, I know. That’s the good thing about being a servant, I guess. When your life has never been all that great, you can never really be disappointed. Not too much, anyway.”

He turns his head to look at me, smile lines shadowed in the sunlight. “Why don’t you go talk to him? I know you can help.”

I almost chuckle, glancing down at the ground. “I can barely get Zuko to listen to me most of the time.”

“Perhaps, but he cares for you, even if he has trouble showing it. He values what you have to say.”

“You sure about that?”

“I am.” He stares at me, then, and his eyes are warm. A sensation fills me - a ghost of a feeling. As if it was the phantom whispers of something I’d lost. “Go to him,” he smiles. “If he doesn’t listen, you can always come back. I’ll be here when you return.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

I find Zuko in the field, haloed by thistles and spring buds. The grass crunches under my feet and he perks up, eyes falling on me. When they register he rolls his eyes, falling back down to the earth.

“I don’t want to talk right now, Y/n.”

I keep walking until I reach him, plopping down next to him on the ground. “Okay.” I reach for a flower growing by his head, plucking the stem from the dirt. It’s white and lovely, the petals soft under my fingers. I fiddle with it for a moment, and Zuko turns his head at the silence.

“So, what, you’re just not gonna talk?”

I smile a bit, examining the flower in my hands. “You didn’t want me to.”

His head thuds against the ground, and he reaches his hands to push his hair away from his face. “Yeah, but you usually do anyway.”

“Do you want me to?”

“...No.”

“Okay.” I reach for another flower, red, by my feet. The petals are glossy, as if someone had poured candle wax over them. I twist its stem with the other, tying a loose knot. I can feel Zuko’s eyes on me, curious and annoyed, tracing the movement of my fingers. The stems come together, the flowers winding around each other in the front. I look at Zuko and place the crown atop his head. He sends me a weird look, hand lifting to trace it with his fingers. He doesn’t take it off, though.

I sigh. “Your Uncle is worried about you.”

He scoffs. “So you did come to talk.”

“Yeah.”

Zuko sighs, pale skin dusted in lavender as the moon starts to rise in the clearing. “There’s no point.”

“No point in what?”

“In anything. There’s nothing out here for me. Nobody’s waiting for me. My whole life is back in the Fire Nation, and if I can’t capture the Avatar and return home, what’s the point?” He was agitated now, words coming in choppy bursts of breath and brow furrowed atop his darkened eyes.

“There’s always a point, Zuko.”

His eyes cut to me, and he rolls them. He shakes his head, like an adult talking to a child. “You wouldn’t understand.”

All lightness falls from my face, and I clench my jaw. It’s my turn to scoff, now. “Wouldn’t understand? Really?” He looks back at me, eyes gleaming with surprise. “I’m an orphan, Zuko. I’m a servant. I think I know a thing or two about not having anyone waiting for me.” I see his face soften, an apology crawling its way up his throat. “My life has never had a point. The only point, according to all of you in the Fire Nation, was to serve people who happened to be born with a higher status than me. To sit still, and be quiet, and to only exist when it benefits other people. Otherwise, I was supposed to disappear. I’m just an inconvenience, right? My life has never had a point, so I’ve had to make my own. And I’m sorry you’re struggling right now, but that’s not a reason to give everything up!”

Zuko stares at me for a moment, mouth parted. The flower crown hangs lopsided on his head, and it makes him look silly. But I can’t bring myself to laugh right now, or even look at him. Sometimes even I can’t believe how frustrating he can be. So instead I stand up, brushing the dirt from my pants, and I walk away. My breath comes shallowly, and I bring my hands to my face, trying to ground myself again. The orange bird from earlier swoops by, chirping, and I feel like crying.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It’s a few hours until Zuko comes back, and when he does I don’t look up. I’ve been sitting in the cave, tracing the stone with my fingertips. It's cool to touch, and the scratches on the wall look like inscriptions if I squint hard enough. Iroh hasn’t talked to me since I returned, I think he knows that my chat with Zuko didn’t go too well. I feel Zuko brush past me, the warmth from his body sweeping over me like a breeze.

“Uncle,” he says, “I thought a lot about what you said.”

Iroh’s face lights up with a smile. “You did? Good, good.”

“It helped me realize something.” Zuko takes a breath. “We no longer have anything to gain by traveling together. I need to find my own way.”

Iroh’s expression falls, and I tense up. A pit quickly makes its way to my stomach.

Zuko’s shadow casts across the wall, and I see him approaching. He stands behind me, still, and I don’t look back. After a moment he steps beside me, and I think he might speak, but he doesn’t. He bends down and places the flower crown in front of me, and walks away. The petals look wilted already.

Iroh rises to his feet. “Zuko, wait!” I hear him run off, and I hear the jostling of the reins that the ostrich horse is wearing. Quiet words are exchanged - I cannot hear them, and I don’t try to. The sound of hoofsteps grows softer, and I know that he’s gone. I lay down against the cool floor of the cave, and try to get some sleep.

///

taglist: @aquaamethyst96

[drwcn]

NEW!

《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 11 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

Other snippets and storyboards can be found on [Master List]

Lan Wangji knew his Uncle and the imperial court and the elders of the royal family were never going to be okay with him making Wei Wuxian one of his concubines. The servant status is one thing, but that's not the crux of the issue. The issue is that there's already a rumour circulating about how WWX is a wily fox whose sole purpose in life is to seduce and befuddle the prince. Xue Yang: quite a reputation you've cultivated for yourself. WWX: *kuzo's meme*.........ah yes, everything is all coming together now.

Lan Wangji is a smart boy though. He knows how to get what he wants. As Wei Ying inched towards full recovery from his whipping, the autumn hunt is upon them.

The autumn hunt in the royal hunts ground was a competition. Anyone invited could compete if they chose to, and of Lan Wangji's household, Jin Ziyan, Luo Qingyang and himself were in attendance. Mianmian, being his concubine and a woman, had two escorts/chaperones accompanying her for propriety, but flashed him dazzling smiles of gratitude upon her horse.

"I'm very grateful, dianxia, for your allowing this indulgence." "Of course," replied Lan Wangji from his saddle. "My Luo-furen should have what she wants." "Dianxia, ce-wangfu." Qin Su approached them and curtsied in proper form. "I wish you all best of luck in the hunt." Then to Mianmian, she said quietly, "Be careful, Qingyang." Jin Ziyan paid the two women no mind, but Lan Wangji saw the hand Qin Su had clandestinely wrapped around one of Mianmian's booted ankles. Oh...well, this is certainly a positive development.

The rest of the noble women not participating in the hunt rested in their tented pavilions, with Meng Yao as their hostess. They drank tea and ate sweets and enjoyed their free time to themselves. Meng Yao noted Wei Wuxian's absence from Jiang Yanli's side, as did several other noble women, but Jiang Yanli only smiled and said, "A-Xian has been living at my father's manor for several years and is an excellent marksman. Dianxia thought it a waste if he were kept from participating."

The truth of the matter is like this: when Wei Wuxian cheated and lied his way into Jiang-fu, he'd told Jiang Fengmian and his family that he'd lived most of his life by the charity of a hunter's family, and so had trained to hunt game in the wild. After the hunter's family died of some infectious illness that plagued the region, Wei Wuxian had supposed made his way into the city and found employment as a shop boy. He couldn't reveal that he'd been trained in martial arts, but there is no need to hide his skill as an archer. At first, it was so he could use archery as a common interest to get close to Jiang Fengmian's son Jiang Cheng, but Wei Wuxian soon realized that it could also be used as a way for Lan Wangji to cultivate further interest.

"Lan Zhan..." Wei Wuxian stroked the snout of Lan Wangji's beloved ferghana horse and grinned. "You really want me to ride him?" "Mn." "You...won't be mad then, if I win?" Wei Wuxian's grin turned slightly wicked. "If I beat you?" Lan Wangji's brow twitched with interest, "Not at all. That's rather what I'm counting on." "Yeah? And why is that?" "Because while I can claim victory with the sword -" "- Very modest, you." Wei Wuxian teased, grinning, which earned him a subtle little glare. "- amongst my cousins, my marksmanship is not unrivalled. You may have a greater chance of winning with him. Huangxiong promised that whoever wins today's hunt will be granted one wish." A wish? Wei Wuxian mulled over this information. His own mission turned and circled in his mind. If I could but gain access to... ... Of course, Wei Wuxian glanced at the prince and the saw the light in his eyes. Lan Wangji is probably thinking of something entirely different.

And so it was inevitable that went the count of the hunt came in, Wei Wuxian's name was at the top. Lan Qiren's little mustache just about flew off his face the way he scrunched it up in displeasure.

Gentries, nobles, dukes and princes watched with envy and shock as a servant came forth to accept the Emperor's reward.

"Jiang-xiong," Nie Huaisang leaned close to Jiang Cheng while they watched from the sidelines as Wei Wuxian bowed before the Emperor. "Why do you look so smug?" Jiang Cheng played with the end of an arrow with an air of mock innocence, "I don't know what you're talking about?" Nie Huaisang pulled at the leather of his riding attire in discomfort - this was so not his style - and tsked, "I know you, Jiang-xiong, you're not subtle. What did you do?" "I was the one who told Lan Wangi that Wei Wuxian is an excellent archer when I went to visit Hanguang-fu." Nie Huaisang understood instantly, "Oh....oh I see..." "What? Don't judge me! You know what they did to him. String up like some unruly animal and whipped. I never agreed with my mother's plan to send him along with my sister anyway. Wei Wuxian may be lowborn but..." Jiang Cheng scowled. "He's too good for them. For Lan Wangji. He's clearly not going to do right by Wei Wuxian. I won't stand to see a perfectly good man wasted as some prissy prince's concubine instead of being where he could put his real skills to use." "Shhhhh, ancestors, Jiang-xiong, keep your voice down! Words like that are a great dishonor against bixia, you'll lose your head!" Jiang Cheng shrugged.

Xue Yang *at a later times*: so lemme get this straight, you won the Hunt, and then Lan Xichen asked you what you want as reward - WWX - as a good little servant I said "I want for nothing that wangye and Jiang-zhuzi hasn't already provided me" - XY *rolls his eyes* Right. And then Jiang Wanyin came out of nowhere and said - "陛下，魏婴乃微臣之家生子，是前管家魏长泽 的独子， 因幼年时父母过世一直遗留市井。上天庇佑，几年前父亲将他巡回。魏婴为人端正淳厚，虽未上过学堂，但头脑机智。陛下也看到了，他弓发出众， 是。。。如能加强训练，以后必会为我姑苏所用 - " Bixia, Wei Ying is this subject's home-born servant, the only son of our previous head of staff Wei Changze. Due to the unfortunate passing of his parents in his youth, he has been getting by doing odd jobs in the capital. Heavens be willing, Father was able to find him after these many years and brought him home. Wei Ying is kind and righteous; though never have been taught by scholars, he is sharp of mind. As bixia has seen, he is a great marksmanship, is ... If he could be granted proper training, he would be a great asset for Gusu in the future. - And what a waste it would be if you were left to twindle away within the confines of a harem. I bet Lan Wangji just loved that. The balls on Jiang Wangyin - I do love his style. WWX You're the only one. Jiang-shushu just about had a heart attack when Jiang Cheng dissed Lan Wangji in public. Madam Yu nearly popped a vein too. XY: Yeah well, he's got a point. You may be Jiang Yanli's companion, but you're not Lan Wangji's concubine, you're just a servant with a skill. Honestly why shouldn't they put you to better use than waiting to maybe spread your legs for a prince who might just as easily toss you aside after the newness fades. WWX *slaps him up the head* Rascal! I'm your shixiong. Don't be so rude. Anyways, Lan Zhan, he - he was willing to let me go. I think he loves me you know - XY: He what now - WWX: He said - Lan Wangji came to kneel beside Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin and bowed to his royal brother, "Huangxiong, Wei Ying is the peijia of my Jiang-furen, a servant of my manor. I... I long knew he is an excellent marksman and should have submitted his candidacy for the ranks but -" Lan Wangji looked at him then, eyes huge with something unreadable. "Jiang-xiao-jiangjun is right. Wei Ying is good, his mind is bright. He would be more suited to militia than...than within the walls of the inner court." "Wangye, have you....have you grown tired of Wei Ying -" "Wei Ying, no -" XY: Oh barf. So please tell me you chose to go to bingbu (ministry of war). WWX: Going to bingbu was never the assignment. If yifu wanted me in the ministry of war, I would've infiltrated them from the start. I refused. And it had the intended effect. "No?" Lan Xichen leaned forward curiously. "Joining the ranks will elevate your rank to that of a subject of the imperial government, and if you are truly as skilled and talented as my brother and Jiang-xiao-jiangjun say, you may rise yet to stand in my court as an officer of the imperial military. You will have your own commission, your own manor, marry, have children - all things which will be forbidden to you if you remain as you are now. As you are male, you cannot provide for Hanguang-fu any offspring, and your low-born status has precluded you from the position of consort or even vice-consort. Have you considered your options carefully? " "I understand bixia, and my decision is made. Nothing would please me more than to stay by wangye's side. I regret nothing." XY: >_> And A this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact you're increasingly horny for Lan Wangji? WWX: Of course not. Because of Lan Qiren, I couldn't advance in Hanguang-fu. But now that Lan Xichen had given me his royal decree, I am Lan Wangji's sanctioned mianshou. XY: *insert eye emoji* So...y'all fucked? WWX *wistful, thinking about the night he spent at the autumn palace after the hunt* : We did, you pervert. Ya happy now? *WWX sighed* But I know who we are and what I must do. Yifu needs me by Lan Wangji's side, for what reasons I do not yet know. No matter how he and I are now... one day it will

all end. XY: *stares into the camera like he's on the office*

Note: yifu = Wen Ruohan, WWX's adoptive father.

[six-magnitude-girl]

The Dawn of the New Ackerman

Summary: Mikasa desperately wanted things to stay the same but Eren thinks the future couldn’t come sooner. 

Chapter: 3/5

Tags: Pseudo-Incest, Alternate Universe - Medieval Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Found Family, Possessive Behavior, Eventual Explicit Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, no beta we die like Kuchel, this is what happens when you write with Goblet of Fire playing on loop, this is off the mark tbh, my self indulgent saccharine concoction

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so mistakes were made.  

Note: Italics are either a dream sequence or inner voice/thoughts. 

“Ackerman, how long are you going to keep this up?” Jean never took anyone's side regardless of him being more of Armin's friend than Eren and he ain't going to start now but he's at the end of his rope. 

Armin and Eren have the best symbiotic relationship that just works in every way. They were so close but they haven’t spoken since the graduation party. 

Jean who is partners in business with them is over it. Was the profit good? Yes. Does he want to continue doing business with them? Yes. But his work has doubled because Eren avoids speaking to Armin entirely. Lately, Jean feels that he's nothing more than a glorified messenger pigeon or an owl! 

Because of it, he was mostly stuck with Connie who was the most agreeable regardless of his behavior, often pointing towards hedonism more times than not.  

Jean misses his best friend but his friend has clear ambitions from the very beginning. Marco has always wanted to serve the royal family for the greater good. He is now working in the palace and is on his way to becoming a full-fledged aide of the crown prince, Urklyn Reiss.

“What do you think about expanding our business to Marley?” Eren ignored his question. 

“You’re serious about that?”   

“An investor would invest half of what we need with the condition that we expand to Marley.” That was all Jean needed to know to make it happen and he was off to Marley, dragging Armin with him.

***

Mikasa, Sasha, and Ymir are the only ones in their batch not going through with becoming a priestess. They were encouraged by their peers to just see it through since life serving the goddess wouldn't be so bad. 

They didn’t try to stop Sasha that much because it was an open secret how she constantly steals food. 

Ymir was an orphan and had the same name as their goddess so nobody could understand why she didn’t want to dedicate her life to serving her namesake. 

It was especially bad with Mikasa since she was at the top of her class; her talents and healing abilities are unparalleled. 

The three of them talked about what they would do after getting off the island. 

They weren't so surprised when Ymir revealed she was going to be with her lover. 

Mikasa has become quite close to Sasha over the years they’ve spent together. At their impending departure, when she found out that the brunette is looking for a job because she was not keen on going back to her hometown, Mikasa was quite eager to offer her a job after getting Eren’s blessing to do so. Sasha readily accepted to be one of the Ackerman estate’s veterinarians right away.  

The day of their departure came sooner rather than later and Mikasa was summoned by Founder Ymir before leaving.  

As she’s walking toward Founder Ymir’s chambers, Mikasa feels melancholic. She'd be leaving the clear blue waters that might have separated her from the rest of the world but protected her. It dawned on her that once she gets off the island, she can never go back again. 

The temple has been her home for the past nine years. She purposely walked slower and admired the shiny cream-marbled walls that contain the historical Titan Age. When she looked around, she realized that she quite liked the temple’s layout. The big nine columns that are consistently present in every building on the island were both symbolic and functional. The vegetable garden and the ocean breeze are nice too… 

Mikasa’s life inside the temple has been peaceful but evenso, she was determined to go home because staying here didn’t feel right to her. She didn’t ponder on her reasoning that much despite the temple being everything that she dreamed of. 

When she arrived, Mikasa bowed but her eyes were looking at the grand staircase leading down to the ocean.  

The goddess never speaks and her thin white veil conceals her eyes but she can convey her thoughts to her priestesses. 

It was only just the two of them and Mikasa wondered for a moment how she was going to communicate with the goddess. 

Mikasa was still on her knees, bowing as Founder Ymir slowly approached her. She was puzzled and found herself darting her eyes upward to see the goddess smiling down at her. 

Mikasa was dumbfounded as the blonde goddess kissed her forehead three times. 

“Come to me when you encounter a problem with him.”��

When Mikasa heard the voice inside her head, she felt a paralyzing shockwave inside her brain. She couldn’t even move as it felt like she was buried under the wet sand of the ocean. It was like the Earth was pulled underneath her and she was floating in a black sea. 

She felt a beating on her head as she unconsciously clutched it in an attempt to soothe the sharp pain. 

"Go home, my child."

Mikasa thanked the goddess. 

Despite her wavering vision, she managed to stumble her way out of the door, into the hallway, before crumpling like a ragdoll. 

***

Eren's standing by his office window. He’s unblinkingly looking at the mountain road. He’s sweating a lot and was annoyed because of it.  

He momentarily stopped breathing when he saw the carriage with the Ackerman crest on it. Eren marched downstairs with as much dignity as he could muster as if he hadn’t been waiting all day. 

The servants are already lined up at the entrance for their young mistress's return. 

Eren stood waiting at the same place they said their goodbyes years ago to welcome her back. 

It was a perfect sunny day, fitting for Mikasa’s homecoming after being away for nine years. 

When the carriage door opened, Eren was the first one Mikasa saw. 

Eren inwardly swallowed when he saw how Mikasa's eyes sparkled in pure happiness when their eyes met. He felt like the most special creature in the world with the way she looked at him. 

In a few quick steps, he was in front of the carriage steps. 

She beamed at him when he offered his hand to assist her down the carriage and all of a sudden the world slowed down. 

The world stopped turning for him. 

For a split second, Eren saw the two of them celebrating their birthdays together underneath their tree until they grew old. 

Eren blinked and he was back in the present.

There’s this spark that sent chills in their stomachs when their hands made contact but both of them ignored it, dismissing it as nervousness. 

Mikasa introduced Sasha to Eren and he motioned for the butler to assist her. 

After Sasha left with the butler to get settled, Eren offered his arm ready to escort Mikasa as she insisted on taking a walk.  

***

Mikasa overestimated herself as she's clearly still feeling drained after her encounter with Founder Ymir. 

Not even halfway up the seemingly endless stone stairs of the Astronomy Tower, she's already heaving. 

The shots of energy that she felt because of the adrenaline of finally making it back home are wearing off. Mikasa's legs are wobbling and each step that she takes up the stairs is made with great difficulty. Mikasa reminds herself that she loves her home. She loves the Astronomy Tower… even if it does have a lot of stairs. 

She unknowingly gripped Eren's arm as additional support to take another step up. 

Mikasa looks tired and worn out. It didn't discount her loveliness in Eren's opinion but he definitely noticed her struggle when they started walking up the stairs. 

Eren made an effort to walk slowly to let her set their pace. He doesn't want to hurry her and exhaust her even further but that doesn't even seem to help. He's waiting for her to say something but true to her character, Mikasa continues to suffer in silence. 

He stopped moving and lightly removed Mikasa's hand from his arm. It was way too fast. Eren placed an arm on her back and the bend of her knees, effortlessly picking her up like she weighed nothing. It's a fact that worries him because of her well-being and strokes his ego at the same time as he still has a complex about not being able to lift her up in their dance practices in the past. 

"Eren, what are you doing?!" she yelped, struggling to be let down but even her attempts were laughable at best because she was so drained. 

"I am heavy. You'll get tired." Eren scoffed at that. He gave her a look to let her know he won't put her down. 

Mikasa sighed "Let me down when you get tired." 

She gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders for added support, not that he needed any. 

Having Mikasa so close to him again, Eren could fully feel her lithe figure. 

She looked delicate in her gauzy white gown that is way too revealing in his opinion with its cutouts and slits… Mikasa's smaller and thinner than Eren remembered… 

Is she not eating? Is the temple not feeding her properly? He remembered the treats she constantly sent to him. Is she sending all of her extra food to him? He was mortified by his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Mikasa's fully nestled in his arms now. Her eyes darted up to him as he carried her up the stairs. She noticed how he squinted his eyes when the sunlight hit his face so she held out her hand at the side of his head to shield him from the sun. 

Eren pursed his lips, maintaining a collected expression on his face. He walked faster and didn't look at her. He only looked straight ahead which allowed her to stare at him even more. 

She realized that he was not the same bony kid that she first met years ago. 

"You grew out your hair." That got his attention.

"...does it not suit me?" Mikasa was glad that some things remained the same. She shook her head. 

"You look good it's just that–" They arrived at the lower dome of the tower and she was instantly assaulted by the familiar smells of new parchment, and sandalwood, "–you look different. You've grown." and Eren. 

To Mikasa, Eren smells like home. 

Eren slowly lowered his arm that was holding Mikasa's legs, slightly bending down to safely place her feet back onto solid ground. 

After standing upright, her arms slowly moved away from him but he kept a hand on the small of her back to guide her to the terrace that they often frequented years ago. 

Once they were out, Mikasa faced him and slowly reached for his hand. "Thank you for carrying me, Eren." 

They caught eyes and she smiled at him. Her gray eyes are changing into their cool metal blue as direct light hits them. He quickly looked away to look at their linked hands and inwardly swallowed. He only squeezed her hand but didn't say anything. 

There's always a story or a topic to talk about in their letters. Whenever they read and authored those long intimate letters to each other, it didn't seem to be enough.  

They settled on a comfortable silence but it was strange to them how they have been constantly corresponding and never ran out of things to talk about for years but now felt a bit lost for words that they've finally reunited. 

Mikasa remembered the early stages of her relationship with Eren when he refused to speak with her. She wasn't good with any sort of communication but what she learned –at least with Eren– is that you can never go wrong with being a good listener and being honest. 

"I'm home, Eren." 

They are standing side by side, looking at each other with the setting sun and the endless horizon above their heads. 

Hands still linked he squeezed them back.

"Welcome home, Mikasa." 

She walked a step closer to him and his heart skipped a beat.

"You must be glad that you listened to me when I told you to eat your vegetables," she whispered as if telling him her greatest secret. Mikasa laughed seeing Eren frown at the callback.  

"Don't be mad." she reached for him and brushed his hair away from his eyes. "After all, I am somewhat upset that you're taller than me now and I can't easily do this to you anymore.'' She tiptoed and pats his head. 

Eren lets her pat him to her heart's content even though it incessantly annoys him. It reminded him of how she constantly treated him like a little kid. 

It was hard for him to be mad or upset about anything when she was looking at him with those signature gray Ackerman eyes again. 

Giving it one last squeeze, she let go of his hand and faced forward. Mikasa puts both hands in the tower's sturdy iron railings and hovers over it as far as she can, closing her eyes to inhale the familiar air. 

Eren never took his eyes off of her while she took in the surroundings. 

The sky is slowly losing light and the wind is getting stronger. He silently took his coat off to wrap it around her shoulders. 

She looked up at him by her side. "Thank you, Eren."

***

Eren stopped talking midway because he noticed that Mikasa wasn't eating much. "Is the food not to your liking?" 

Mikasa shook her head. "I like it, why?" 

"Then why are you not eating?" he blinked in confusion.

"We mostly eat vegetables as we don't eat meat on the island so I'm not used to eating much anymore," she explained. 

"You are home now and you need meat to regain your strength." Mikasa only smiled when Eren added more food to her plate. 

***

Unlike before, Eren has more responsibilities and duties that occupy his time so even though she's back, they can't spend the whole day together. As that is the case, Mikasa often visits his study to bring him food. 

Noticing the permanent circles in his eyes, Mikasa decided to investigate and visited his study late at night. Sure enough, he was still working. 

"It's already late, why are you still working?"

"I can't sleep anyway so I figured I'll finish some work." It's not that Eren couldn't sleep, he just feels restless thinking about all the work that he leaves unfinished when he retires for bed. 

"You can't sleep?" Eren felt guilty worrying Mikasa but habit made it difficult to turn away from work. Especially when he's almost done. 

"I am almost done and I'll retire shortly after that." she didn't look convinced and she headed for the chaise to wait for him. 

"Suit yourself." He knows there's no changing her mind if she's in her mother hen mode so he went back to the document he was working on. The sooner he finishes, the better. 

Mikasa laid on the chaise with her eyes never leaving Eren. She finds the familiar furrow of his feathery eyebrows amusing as he stares at the documents on his desk for the last fifteen minutes. 

Eren could feel her watching him but he pretended not to notice, not once did he look at her. He pretended that he was alone.

His neck was starting to strain as he refused to look up for fear of seeing Mikasa and getting distracted. He feels his face getting hot with the thought of her staring at him. 

Eren face palmed as his worries were all for naught because when he looked up, Mikasa's eyes were tightly closed. 

Before he knows it he's walking towards her, staring at her intently. 

Eren knows from the first moment he laid eyes on Mikasa that she's beautiful. But this? This is breathtaking. 

Mikasa's laying on her side, accentuating her curves. 

Her legs are bent, her left leg more extended than the other, leaving her legs half exposed because of the slit of the white gauzy dress that she wears now out of habit. 

Eren cautiously tried to cover her exposed leg but quickly withdrew his hand away as if he was burned when he accidentally made contact with her skin. His whole body felt pulsing hot. 

He crouched down in front of her now. Why is she so defenseless? He gently pushed her hair away from her face and let it fall onto her back. He didn't know what he was doing. All he knows is that her hair was obstructing… so he needs to get it out of the way. 

With Mikasa's long silky hair out of the way, the shorter ones at the front delicately framed her face now but didn't cover her chest that was pressed together with her arm in front of her. 

Eren aches but doesn't know what was wrong. In a trance, he took Mikasa's hand that was hanging out with the intent to put it in his crotch area. 

"Eren?" She blinked in rapid succession trying to fight sleepiness.   

He quickly dropped her hand and felt mortified with what he was intending to do. With the strength he didn't know he possessed, he acted as if nothing happened. "I'm done with my work, let's go to bed." His voice was mechanical and cold. 

Mikasa didn't miss Eren's shakiness. "Eren, are you okay?" he turned away from her, feeling that his eyes would betray him. 

"I'm just tired. I'll escort you to your room," he said in a tone that leaves no room for argument. 

She was perplexed but nodded although he had his back on her.

Mikasa tried to make sense of the awkwardness between them. She oddly felt like she did something wrong. Maybe she disturbed his work by snoring? She couldn't tell for sure.

They reached her bedroom door in no time and Eren was in a hurry to leave but she stopped him "If there is anything I can do to help–" she tried reaching for him but he flinched away from her as if her touch would kill him. 

"I'm not a kid." he cut her off. "If you have time to worry about me, you should get new clothes." 

She blinked and rested her hands on her lap that was hanging mid-touch. "Why?" 

Even in their letters, Mikasa has always understood Eren but now she was genuinely struggling to understand his motivations about her wardrobe. 

He made the mistake of meeting her eyes. Seeing how lost she looked, he softened against his will. "You look…" ravishing "...cold." 

Mikasa smiled, finally understanding that Eren was just worried about her. "I wore these during my stay at the temple so I know I won't catch a cold." 

Eren felt frustrated because she was brushing him off when he was doing this for her own good. "You are not at the temple anymore and there are men in here." 

"It's just us here and I don't go out much anyway." She shrugged off his argumentative tone as she was mostly pleased with how sensible he is. 

Eren, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes. Does she not see him as a man?

He quickly closed the distance between them but it didn't wipe the satisfied expression on her face and it nagged on him. 

"Be that as it may, there are still male servants here." he hinted. 

Eren gave her a one-over and freely ran his hand on Mikasa's collarbone, his fingers snaking down before her hand instinctively grasped his at the edge of her cleavage to halt it from moving further.

"See?" Mikasa almost jerked back when their eyes met. 

"What?" Eren was satisfied that Mikasa wasn't so naive but he mostly felt disrupted if anything. It was like he decided to go up a hill and go back down halfway. 

To appease himself, he inserts an inch of his thumb inside her cleavage. "You could see my fingers through the fabric of your gown." The back of his thumb lingered while he inspected the fabric. It would take just one pull, is at the tip of his tongue. 

"Oh..." She looked at Eren and shook her head. "I understand. I'll go dress shopping tomorrow." 

His feeling of satisfaction was instantly wiped off at the thought of her leaving the Ackerman estate even just for a few hours. 

"No need for you to make a trip to the city. I'll have someone come to the estate."

Mikasa contemplated a little bit before agreeing. "You're still so sweet to me, Eren." she thought about how lucky she is to be cared for by Eren. 

"Good night." she turned her head to give him a sweet smile before entering her room. 

Mikasa closed her bedroom door and Eren was left alone to simmer with his conflicting strong feelings in the dark hallway. He went back to his room and lightly pressed his forehead on his door when he closed it. 

"Eren" She came into his room while he was sleeping. He was still sleepy so instead of opening his eyes, he pulled her down. 

She felt so right in his arms. 

"Eren," she pleaded. Somehow he knew what she wanted and he unclothed her. Eager as he is, his sweet girl helped him remove his clothes. 

She's laying naked underneath him. 

"Eren" he kissed her forehead and made love to her. 

He felt something build up and went faster. 

"Mikasa…" Eren opened his eyes mid cum. He woke up with wet, sticky bottoms. It was a lot. He knew what it was and died a little inside because of shame. He quickly wiped the evidence to the best of his abilities. 

It felt real. It felt good… More than good. 

He groaned because it was still dark outside. 

Eren has always thought he was better than this, that he was above this… He never once acted out of line, succumbed, or was beguiled by women accosting him. It wasn't even a contest, he just wasn't interested. He has better things to do. 

Jean gifted him sex books, portraits, and other similar materials throughout the years as a way of mocking him. 

Eren has always thought sex was overrated, a sign of weakness, and his history lessons with Mikasa support his sentiments. Just how many people died because some fucker decided to think with his cock? 

He read and kept those books as a power move, to send a message to Jean that he couldn't hold this against him. He loathed to admit it but it was also out of curiosity. Never in a thousand years would he think that he would find himself in this situation. 

Eren headed to his study to do some light reading but he found himself furiously pumping his cock staring at the chaise, imagining Mikasa laying there just as she had yesterday. 

"Mikasa!" 

After finishing on a cloth he procured, an overwhelming shame engulfed him of defiling Mikasa in his mind. 

He went to the training room to work up some sweat. A good workout is what he needs to get past this because he wasn't ready to deal with how much of a fucking pervert he turned out to be. 

***

Eren couldn't sleep. He made sure never to stay out too late in his study again so he was in his bedroom reading a history book. 

He has avoided Mikasa and has barely looked at her for the past few days. He doesn't think he deserves to even look at her with what he was imagining doing to her. How stupid of him not to realize that the faceless black-haired girl he always imagined on the occasion that he touched himself has always been Mikasa.

Someone knocked on the door and his heart knew who it was. 

It was Mikasa. 

He was planning on making her leave but she looked so happy when he opened the door; Eren realized that Mikasa is the only one ever happy to see him. 

She holds out a tray that has a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and two mugs of warm milk. 

While Eren was busy scrutinizing the light green color of the milk, Mikasa laid everything on the table to pull out her surprise underneath the tray. 

"Close your eyes, Eren." 

He closed his eyes just to get it over with. 

"You can open your eyes now." She was giddy with excitement. She can't believe that Eren didn't even tell her. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw a framed picture of an article praising his revolutionary innovative business and its contributions to the Empire. 

"You did well, Eren." 

"...Isn't this a bit too much?" he scratched his nape. 

"Too much? No! We'll hang it on your study–" 

"No. I would feel egotistical doing that." he quickly shut her down.

Mikasa slightly pouted."I'll hang it in my study then!" 

"Aren't you a bit too worked up over an article written by some stranger?" He tried to downplay it and was looking at anything but her. Once again, he tried to think why the milk was light green but couldn't bring himself to care anymore; not when Mikasa's full attention was on him. 

"It's not nothing. Big or small I’ll always be proud of your achievements.” There's a quick twitch on his fingertips and his ears turned red at the praise. 

"Isn't it a bit too late for a snack?" He changed the topic to stop himself from combusting on the spot. 

“You mentioned that you have a hard time sleeping so I brewed you some sleep aid.” Mikasa couldn't understand the awkwardness between them so she continued to ramble about the herb that she added to the milk. 

"It makes you a bit hungry but don't worry I was told that I am the best at synthesizing this herb so aside from feeling relaxed there would be no other side effects." Eren continued to just stare at her without interrupting her and in the end, she caved. "You've been busy lately and I didn’t want to disturb you so I figured this could be the only time we could celebrate." 

Eren felt more guilt. He wanted to touch her but stopped himself midair. “Next time just come to me. I’ll tell you myself if I’m busy.” 

She thankfully didn't notice his attempt and only nodded. 

They felt like mischievous little children eating cookies and drinking milk in Eren's bed. They have been talking for several hours about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Despite Eren’s recent descent to madness due to his awakening raking on him, he still found ease in being at Mikasa’s side. They felt natural together.  

“I used to do this with the girls at the temple.” That confirmed it in Eren's mind,  Mikasa doesn't see him as a man at all. To her, he's no different than the Potato girl and the Namesake girl. 

Setting that aside, it wasn't his most pressing concern. He realizes as she tells him about her life in the temple, that it wasn't bad. She belonged and was happy there… 

“Do you regret leaving the temple?” 

It was something he has always been afraid of. If a priestess dies –even if she was of noble birth– her remains weren't sent home to the family crypts. Once you sign up to be a priestess, your life belongs to Founder Ymir. Dead or alive. 

Mikasa thought about it. “It was everything I have dreamed of.” he felt knots on his stomach upon hearing her admit it and elaborate on how beautiful the no man's island is. She gushed about the herbs that were native to the island and how she was given space in the greenhouse to plant whatever it is that she wanted. 

"They even allowed me to take some seeds with me!" Her pupils are dilated with giddiness but Eren didn't reciprocate her excitement and instead made a mental note to make a grander greenhouse for her at the estate. 

Mikasa stretched and lay on her side of the bed. “It was wonderful but I don’t think I’ll ever regret not seeing it through.”

”Why?” He laid down on his side as well to face her. 

In truth, it was something Mikasa doesn't want to think about too much. Her anxiety about the future is deeply rooted within her. It was a fear that motivated most, if not all of her long-time plans and she's not comfortable ever admitting that. So saying that her decision to go home didn't shake her would be an outright lie. 

But one thing she realized is that she doesn't want her fear to define her. 

Being there for someone and receiving the same care and attention, was what she wanted. It was everything to her. 

With Eren around, someone's waiting for her at home, someone wants her around and Mikasa doesn't intend to ever let him down.

“You made me realize that through thick and thin, I want to be there for my family. I would have lived peacefully on that island away from everything just as I have always wanted but I am greedy, Eren. I wouldn’t have been satisfied without-” she tried so hard to keep her eyes open but it was inevitable as the sleep aid has always worked too well for her. “-you.” she trailed off before immediately falling into a deep sleep. 

Eren feels like he was submerged underwater and was in so deep that he can't see which way is up or down anymore. 

The more he spends time with Mikasa, the more he is sure no one would ever make him feel like she does. 

He knows that the deeper that he sinks, the harder it is for him to get out. He should probably stop. Maybe he knew all this time that it was too late for him. There's no way out and he can only give in to these feelings. 

Eren wasn't blind nor stupid. He knows that Mikasa loves him and every time she shows that to him, he just goes crazy inside because it wasn't the same. 

Mikasa doesn't love him the way that he does. 

Eren touches her cold cheeks and feels helpless that the moment she closes her eyes, he's already touching her. "Why are you so defenseless around me?" he murmured. 

He scooched closer to her, their noses almost touching, and observed her. 

Mikasa looked the same as she did years ago. She's lovelier, yes. But she didn't grow taller or look older unlike him who changed in every way. It's almost as if she was resistant to any sort of change. Eren knew that he just ought to be content with what he have with Mikasa. But he wants more. Eren wants more of Mikasa. 

He removed his hand from her cheek as it was no longer possible for him to touch her innocently. 

"I'm sorry, Mikasa. I don't think we can ever go back." Eren kisses Mikasa's forehead, vowing that even if things change, he would always be by her side. 

Now and forever. 

***

After Jean and Armin's recent business trip to Marley, they headed straight to the Ackerman estate to finalize some things. 

Jean and Connie agreed that if they are going to continue with the business, it's imperative that the rift between Eren and Armin needs to be fixed especially since the business has been expanding. So far, they have no solutions in sight. The only thing they can do is force the two to share air and hope the problem would fix itself. 

"What do you know about this investor?" Jean sipped his tea and dived into the heart of the matter.

Eren is burning holes in the documents at his desk. "The investor requested to remain anonymous until our project is over." 

Armin, who is leaning at the bookshelf of Eren's personal collection, looked up from the book he was mindlessly flipping through. "That is a big thing to ask especially... Are we sure the investor is going to follow through?" 

"See for yourselves." Jean and Armin walked to his desk to see the documents that he tossed out. 

"It’s already paid in full..." They have no idea who would shell out a ridiculously high amount of money when they barely have anything to show for it. They wanted to ask more questions but upon seeing its authenticity, they had no choice but to back down. This needed to be enough for now. 

Despite Eren’s cold-bloodedness, they deemed him trustworthy. He would never stab anyone in the back, he would do it front and center in a barely legal way. 

Armin knew that about Eren but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. 

After graduation, Armin had a lot of thinking to do. Jean was frequently checking on Armin at his workshop. If it was apparent that he was burying himself in his work, Jean didn’t comment on it and for that he was thankful. So when Jean made up some excuse to bring him along for official business in Marley, he obliged. 

Nobody saw it coming because of Jean’s volatile personality but he was the glue that held the group together in the wake of the fallout of Eren and Armin’s rift. 

Armin vividly remembered his encounter with a lady that he met by the docks of Marley. One of their topics of conversation is the recent unrest because of Marley’s shaky economy. 

He just realized that if they are successful in adding Marley to their routes –for better or worse– it would change everything for the people there. There are a lot of variables running through Armin’s mind. Businesses directly affiliated with the royal family in Marley would take a direct hit, "Eren–" 

"Is that Marco?" 

Upon hearing his best friend's name, Jean rushed by the window where Connie was. 

Sure enough, he saw Marco talking to the butler.   

They all went out to receive Marco. 

"What are you doing here, Marco?" Jean clapped Marco on the back. 

The butler whispered something to the maid and the maid's eyes widened. She was flushed and hastily bowed to Eren and his guests before scrambling upstairs taking the two other maids with her. 

"I am here for an official royal business." Eren's eyes darted between the butler and Marco. "I think it would be best to wait for Lady Mikasa." Eren's eyes hardened at that. 

Tea and pastries are served in the receiving area. It's like they are back in the academy again. The conversation flowed easily despite everyone strangely ignoring the elephant in the room. 

It wasn't long before Mikasa arrived. 

Because of the time constraint, her hair was in a simple uncomplicated updo. She's wearing a plain dark blue dress with matching sapphire earrings that highlight her eyes. The neckline is higher than what was deemed fashionable but the back is dipped low and it perfectly accentuates her assets. 

They all stood up when she arrived but only silently stared at her so she took the initiative to speak first, breaking whatever spell they were in upon seeing her. 

She apologized for making everyone wait, recounting, and thanked everyone again for their help at the graduation ceremony last year. 

Mikasa sat beside Eren who reserved a seat for her. 

There's something about Mikasa's composure that unsettled Eren. 

"What do we owe the surprise, Mr. Bodt?"

Mikasa felt like she was doused in cold water when Marco presented the letter with the Reiss family crest on it. It was a royal summon which was meant to be read in front of the palace messenger. She had an inkling of what it contained and wanted to throw the letter in the fireplace. 

Sure enough, it was a proposal of marriage from the Crown Prince, Urklyn Reiss. Her hands slowly fell into her lap. 

Eren takes the letter from her cold, numb hands to read it. 

It took everything in her not to stomp her feet, bury her face into the pillow and start spouting profanities. "I am but an old maid, I didn't even attend the academy... Surely there are other more suitable ladies for his highness?" 

Ladies in all kingdoms would kill to be in Mikasa's position but she immediately informed everyone what she was lacking, when in peerage and deportment, she was second to none. Marco smiled at Mikasa's humility and thought what a great queen she would make.

"Prince Urklyn was greatly besotted and intrigued with the way you dedicated your life to piety and charity. He couldn't think of a better queen to be than Lady Mikasa." 

They had an audience in the room and unlike the unchanging expressions of the Ackermans, their faces reflected surprise with congratulations at the tip of their tongues. They felt like they were witnessing the beginning of a fairytale.

"When would be the most convenient time for you to move into the palace? Prince Urklyn would like to get to know you as a future spouse and spend time with you." 

Everything was spinning in slow motion for Mikasa. She was getting nauseous but had no way of stopping the wheels from turning round and round. All Mikasa could think about at the moment is how predictable the royal family is. The Ackermans might have been keeping to themselves in their territory but it doesn’t change the fact that they are a powerful ducal house that is only second to the royal family. They are trivializing that fact and are basically ordering her to be tied through marriage. 

Mikasa instinctively turned to look at Eren and was surprised to see his eyes already on hers. It was then that she felt the world returning back to its axis. 

Eren turned his head forward, eyes darting back at her as if promising that he'd take care of the matter for her. 

"Why would Mikasa ever leave her home?" Eren’s voice is flat but Mikasa notices his veins popping out. 

"Don't put a damper on the mood, you should be happy for Lady Mikasa." Connie smiled at Mikasa whose eyes darted back in her lap, devoid of any sort of emotion. He wrote it off as nervousness, especially with the way Eren was acting. 

"When people get married, they live with their spouse, not their siblings." If looks could kill, Jean would already be dead with the way Eren glared at him. 

"Ackerman, I know you care for your older sister but this is for her own good. She'll need ample time to start with the queen's education." Marco explained with as much empathy as he could. 

Eren felt like the only sane person in the room. Who are they to just take someone from their home? 

“I don't need the crown prince's lapdog to tell me how to care for-" 

"Gentlemen!" Armin stops Eren from talking before he loses his head for blasphemy against the royal family. 

“You are way out of line and you have no say in this,” Marco said quietly. He felt stung by Eren’s callousness. 

But Eren is not backing down. “She never said yes to anyone’s proposal.” 

Marco looked at Mikasa who didn't refute Eren's statement and was dumbfounded. Why would she pass up the opportunity to be a queen? He admits that maybe it was an oversight on their end to just assume but what lady wouldn’t be happy or at least flattered if a prince proposes to them? 

"As acting lord of the Ackerman house, Mikasa is my responsibility and she's not going anywhere." chills ran down their spines at those words. 

Mikasa recognized the look on Eren's face and knew there was more coming so she quickly put a stop to it by grasping Eren's hand which made him turn to her. 

A moment of silence passed as the two of them shut everyone out of their world. 

Mikasa didn't let go of his hand and they communicated with their eyes.

Eren's expression softened and he broke eye contact, giving in to Mikasa’s pleas for him to calm down. He held her hand tight and kept his head low. 

Their exchange didn't go unnoticed. 

Armin was unblinkingly staring at Eren's hand on top of Mikasa's. 

Eren touching someone of his own accord is one thing but they have never seen or ever thought he was capable of ever backing down. Until now. 

Mikasa took the diplomatic approach to put an end to it. “My father isn’t available at the moment so allow me to write a letter to my father and ask him what he thinks about this before setting anything in stone.” 

Marco could only nod because this is not how he thought things would go. Prince Ukrlyn wanted a grandiose event but King Rod wanted them wed post haste so everyone –including him– was already covertly preparing for the wedding… Marco observes Mikasa, to deduce if she was leaning towards acceptance or rejection. 

Eren’s hold on Mikasa’s hand tightened. 

***

"Why didn't you reject the marriage proposal?" He demanded as if she was betraying him. Eren still hasn't let go of Mikasa's hand even after all the visitors have left. 

"I'm writing a letter to father," Mikasa answered quietly. 

Eren knew deep down that Kevan had no reason to refuse a marriage between Mikasa and Prince Urklyn so he doubts writing a letter would make a difference. If anything, Eren just knew that Dina would encourage the match.

Mikasa didn't outwardly reject the proposal but Eren could tell that she didn't want it. 

Does he even have the right to do this? Suddenly, Eren felt uncertain as he might be ruining things for Mikasa. 

"You were too reckless earlier. I'll talk to them alone next time." She sounds tired and her hands are ice cold. 

Eren put both of Mikasa's hands together and engulfed them with his larger ones, warming them, brushing his fingers on her knuckles in an attempt to relax her. 

"I won't let them–" 

"Have you read the books in the Astronomy tower?" she cuts him off.

Eren was confused and shook his head. He wondered if he was missing something. 

Mikasa stared at their hands together and looked away. "The royal family has always been afraid of the Ackermans since the Titan Age. You will do well to remember that because you are an Ackerman." 

Slowly untangling her hands from his, she continued, her voice softer. "You're doing great, Eren. Just keep doing what you've been doing." 

Mikasa sighed when she had to press a palm on his shoulder to stop him from moving closer to her. She could feel his disagreement even as he let her slowly push him away, putting a considerable distance between them. 

"I have this under control." 

Her words didn't reassure him, not even one bit. On the contrary, it made him more worried. 

Time seems to slow down for Eren as he watches Mikasa go up the grand staircase with the sun shining down on her, like an angel ascending back to heaven… because no mortal will ever be worthy of her. 

[neon-sunsets]

some thoughts about rayfa - major spoilers for spirit of justice

you are born and you are brought up for one purpose. you knew love, unconditional, but you cannot remember it at all and so you go on with it because you are young and you don’t know anything else; your father loves you something close to partially conditional and your mother loves you as long as you play your part but it’s fine because you’re good, you’re a perfect child, and from a young age you can do as you’re told. you watch the innocent die on repeat because it is how you serve your country; everyone has a role, your mother says, and this is yours; and you watch kids your age playing in the streets of the bazaar and know that you are missing something that you have never had and will never know, but some people are just meant for different things than playing and so you go to bed with ghosts in the wings of your chambers and you pretend that you do not see them. khura’in is a haunted place, your father said once, and so the ghosts fade to the background with the prayer flags and the rites and the flames

when you are eight or so your mother brings you to a trial where the prosecutor is unfamiliar to you and somehow very known. you think perhaps that he is one of your ghosts reincarnated and brush off the fact that he seems too old for that. his eyes, emerald and piercing, reflect your own, but he is — afraid, no, that can’t be right, he reminds you of the murals on the palace walls and they are never afraid, always serene — and then his face is marble, and the trial continues. 

you see him more often, after that. once you think you hear your mother speaking with him in a hallway, think you see her clamp her hand around his arm — but you have always seen ghosts and you think perhaps you always will, so you keep walking

you grow and you grow and you find that as you do there are fewer and fewer challenges to your word. your mother tells you that you speak the truth, that your are a voice for the Holy Mother and for the state, that you must stand as tall as you can for the leader you will someday be, for the line of queens whose blood you bear. you become gold and the people love you. you are barely a girl, not at all a woman, and yet you have power like a child with dolls. nayna, ever-faithful, tries to impart wisdom that you will not remember until you have already made the mistake. sometimes you steal away to feel the chill of mountain wind on your face and know not why you do it, sometimes you visit graves just to see the people who lurk in the corners. the ghosts are everywhere, always, and you feel comfort in the chill of their goodnight wishes instead of the fear you once did

and then you are fourteen, still seeing ghosts, and a foreign man shows up in your courtroom. it is the first time someone challenges an insight that came from your vocal cords instead of your mother’s, and you flush and sputter because you cannot remember the last time someone other than your mother told you that were wrong

for the first time since before you were born, the state loses a trial

and you were wrong. you did not speak the truth. the ghosts don’t trust you anymore — they follow you more closely, keep a more watchful eye, add to the gazes resting on you as you shake under your mother’s judgement

and he does it again, and you are wrong again, and you watch him take down prosecutor sahdmadhi, someone you know to be godlike and untouchable, with a truth your mother privately condemns as the inner workings of an unclean mind

except. except you, you thought it made sense —

and then your father, dead, the master of a coup,

and your mother — no, aunt — who loved the fire more than you,

and the devil, your real father who died for you and your state-traitor brother, from whose arms your mother-aunt drew blood, took a gun to his back for you 

and nayna — no, amara, your mother — 

and perhaps it is not that the ghosts don’t trust you anymore but in fact that they knew from the beginning, that they only felt closeness was possible at the first spark of deviance from your mother’s spider-silk grip. perhaps the truth is only a knife in the wrong hands, perhaps your duty is not found in absolution but instead in conversation

but at the end of it all you are still a fourteen year old girl with the blood of the people on your hands

even for you, your mother’s emblem of all that was holy and good — even for you, that is a heavy burden to bear

[thatsshowbizbby]

ishq sufiyana

pairing: steve rogers x desi!reader

summary: your weapon of choice is a blade. his is a shield. both were made to clash with one another.

warnings: mention of blood and violence (slight). tension, angsty-ish? the wrath and the dawn, arranged marriage vibes. enemies to lovers-ish.

author's note: this is my first thing lol pls be nice. this isn't a full story but just an idea i had in my head. i believe this is called a headcannon (?) also my second time posting bc tumblr drafts/editing is killing my vibe

you are royalty - raised in a palace made of white marble, and clear, blue waters all around - handcrafted clothing and magnificent jewels at your disposal.

and your beauty. talk of your beauty attracts suitors from the farthest ends of the earth, coming to prove whether that talk is just mere gossip.

it’s not.

but that's not what got steve's attention when he first laid his eyes on you. it was the sword in your hand. a talwar.

your movement mimicked the flow of the water surrounding your palace - a fight style disguised as delicate. but to the trained eye, steve's eyes, it was anything but. it was dangerous. you were dangerous.

and you made sure to let steve know that you were far from a damsel in distress, waiting stupidly for her knight in shining armor.

"i don't know you, nor do i care for you. as far as im concerned, you're just another candidate waiting for my rejection. and trust me, it's coming soon but i'll let you enjoy your time here for a couple more weeks.”

steve scoffs because of course you would have an attitude. you were a spoiled princess. a beautiful, fierce one whom he was beginning to respect, but he would never admit that to you. not anymore. your arrogance trumped your beauty.

"oh sweetheart, what makes you think i want you at all?"

you two continue to bicker and roll your eyes at each other and make snarky remarks when crossing paths inside the palace walls for the remainder of steve’s visit.

“what’s wrong, princess? too scared to go up against me?” he would tease, sitting in on your sparring practices.

“believe me, rogers. you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if i were up against you.”

so when your father offers your hand to the nuisance a few days prior to his departure, you’re dumbfounded.

“beta, you two will get along. trust me.”

“i will only agree if he can defeat me.” you both knew full well that no one has ever been able to.

with that, you and steve prepare for a fight. you with your sword and dagger. him with his shield. how pathetic.

you got a few good hits in, starting off strong - cutting through his suit, hitting him in the face with the hilt of your sword, blocking his punches - he really only chose a shield? out of the entire palace armory, he chose his stupid, little shield.

but all that inner shit-talk came to a full stop when he disarmed you in one swift motion. your sword was on the floor, as were you, with your hidden dagger pressed against your throat and steve on top of you. how did he find that?

his breath fanned over your face. “always know your enemy, princess.”

___________________________

as you sat in your chambers, heart racing for the wedding tomorrow morning, you looked over your mehndi (henna). it had gotten so dark.

“deeper the color becomes, deeper the love. and your groom’s love for you must be competing with the darkest parts of the ocean,” one of your ladies said to you.

yeah right.

you pull yourself out of your thoughts and make your way to the room of your unenthusiastic betrothed. you’re careful to not be seen by any palace guards or maids. visiting your soon-to-be-husband in the middle of the night? the rumors would spread like wildfire.

you knock on the door and hear a “come in.”

steve turns around in nothing but a pair of sleepwear bottoms. oh boy. at this point, you’ve become extremely aware of your own appearance. long brown hair flowing freely, a smaller nath (nose ring) than your usual daytime wear, an almost sheer nightgown, and small shawl that barely covered your upper body. steve’s breath hitches in his throat from across the room.

you look at the cuts and bruises healing from your spar a few days ago. but the satisfaction of those memories, of the times you got him, were interrupted by the sight of a much darker bruise running along his broad shoulder. then you see his face. more bruises. more cuts. and bowl of water and rag in his hand.

“what happened?” you rush over, concern overcoming you.

“nothing, nothing. don’t worry about it,” he tries to brush off, but you’re not having it. you grab his chin and direct his face towards your own to get a good look. busted lip, busted jaw, swollen cheek. full lips. chiseled face. gorgeous blue ey- snap out of it.

“well if you’re going to look like this for tomorrow morning, i’d like to know what the hell happened.”

“there was a boy running from a couple of bandits in the market. i saw and helped him. the bandits didn’t like that,” he laughs, “it was ten against one.”

“and you got out with only a few scratches here and there? you’d think the damage would be worse,” you say, trying to hide your respect and admiration.

“yeah, you’d think.” there were those eyes again, this time burning into your own.

you take the rag from his hand. “sit,” gesturing to the embroidered armchair.

you soak the piece of cloth in the bowl of water, wring it out, and begin to clean the wounds on his face. he winces when you get to his jaw.

“sorry.”

trying to get a better angle, you step in between his open legs and take a seat on his thigh. gently holding his face, so gentle he could barely feel it, you wipe away the dried blood.

steve’s eyes rake over your face. the talk was not mere gossip. beautiful.

he was so immersed in his thoughts of you that he did not notice you were done. but still sitting on his lap. his face in your hands. it was your turn to stare intently at him.

your noses almost touching, as you instinctively run your hand through his hair. he sighs in content and relaxes into your touch. you feel your heart skip a bit at the response.

“try not to take another beating while you’re here, rogers. or better yet, why don’t you learn a few tricks? your swordsmanship could be better” you joke, as you get up and walk away.

but he grabs your hand, getting up from the armchair, and slightly pulls you towards him.

“i recall winning every fight i’ve been in. or did you already forget how we got here in the first place?” his eyes held a playful look, as if letting you know that he was not challenging you this time. he was merely….joking, alongside with you.

a smile tugs at your lips as you pull your hand away. “yes, well you still need to work on your swordsmanship.”

“only if you’ll teach me, princess.”

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: Nirvana in Fire, Episode 04

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)

Warning! Spoilers for all 54 episodes!

Schemes in Progress:

Mu Nihuang’s Marriage//Martial Arts Competition: Mei Changsu has a foolproof plan for defeating the lead contender, Baili Qi, who is the only contender who can actually beat Nihuang to win her hand. His plan appears to involve having small children beat the mighty warrior. In fact his plan is way simpler and more delightful than that, but I’ll discuss the specifics in a later post. It’s politically important to defeat Baili Qi, not just personally, because he represents a potential enemy state. 

Mu Nihuang’s Marriage//Sima Lei: The Crown Prince and his mom, Consort Yue, want to force Nihuang to marry their dude Sima Lei. The plan is to use Roofie Wine on her. Consort Jing gets wind of this plan and gets a counter-plan rolling. 

Getting Tingsheng Out Of The Palace: Mei Changsu uses the anxiety caused by Baili Qi’s badassery to get the Emperor to agree to his ridiculous kid-training plan, and then makes sure Tingsheng, the secret son of the late Prince Qi, is one of the kids he gets to train. 

Put Jingyan on the Throne: This scheme gets rolling, with a general pattern of Mei Changsu & team doing whatever they can to sink the leading contenders for the throne, which gives Jingyan an opportunity to rise up. The leading contenders tend to cooperate in their own sinking because they are ruthlessly ambitious, and Mei Changsu designs his plans to take advantage of that. 

Banquet Battle

After thoroughly disarming and whomping Jingrui, Baili Qi finishes by flinging Jingrui’s sword into the floor right in front of him. 

Jingrui, who hoped to literally cripple Baili Qi in this fight, has the nerve to be affronted by this. 

(More behind the cut!)

Baili Qi shows his impeccable barbarian manners, giving the Emperor a nice gesture of respect that is presumably local to Northern Yan. Meanwhile, Mei Changsu and Nihuang are snarking quietly at their table like a couple of high schoolers.

Mei Changsu pretends to be embarrassed when the Emperor tells them to share their joke with the whole class, but of course it’s always a scheme, with him. 

He and Nihuang explain to everyone that they were just chatting about how Baili Qi is great and all, but that Mei Changsu could train some small amateur children to beat his bitch ass, given a couple of days to teach them to run in a circle. 

The emperor thinks this is a good plan, and gets right on board with it. 

This is not actually because the emperor is an idiot, however, although Prince Yu clearly thinks so. 

The emperor IS an idiot, but on this occasion I think he has correctly deduced that Mei Changsu has some kind of shady plan in mind, and he is 100% in favor of shady plans, if they work to his benefit. 

Consort Bestie

Jingyan’s mom Consort Jing is hanging out in the palace, and meets up with her girlfriend bestie, Imperial Concubine Hui. Historically, the Emperor’s collection of women was divided into ranks; how many ranks was different for different periods. In NIF, Consort Jing and I.C. Hua belong to the “outer palace” and the Empress and Consort Yue belong to the “inner palace” because they rank higher. The Empress likes to pick on  IC Hua, and has sent her to light a bunch of candles in a haunted palace.

Consort Jing goes with her because they are girlfriends besties, and because she is a consistently nice person who deserves all the good things in the world. Spoiler: Both of these women survive, they stay friends, things work out well for both of them and for their sons. Go ahead and root for them! 

Because the haunted palace belongs to the late Empress, mother of the Emperor and of Grand Princess Liyang, these BFFs are ideally placed to overhear some important scheming, involving some drugged wine that’s been sitting around in this part of the compound for like 30 years. 

They realize that someone is planning to sexually assault a woman by using this drugged wine, and Nihuang is the obvious candidate, since her marriage plans are all anyone’s talking about now. Consort Jing tells Concubine Hua to forget all about this and not get involved in palace drama, but she immediately gets to work intervening in the situation herself. 

Training 

Over at the Xie guesthouse, Mei Changsu is training the kiddies in a special sword formation designed to beat Baili Qi. They sure do have pretty sword forms for a bunch of kids who have never held a sword. Also, someone’s chalk skills are off the chain.

Mei Changsu tells Fe Liu that they have to be faster, so Fe Liu tells them “go faster” and they do, which is apparently the essence of learning martial arts. 

Mu Nihuang shows up and sees right through all of this, making it clear she needs a miracle to get her out of this unwanted marriage. Mei Changsu tells her that he’s got it covered. She says that she believes him, although she’s not sure why. 

Then they stand there gazing heatedly at each other, like you do when you are two random people who have never met until recently, and definitely have never gotten each other off even a little bit. 

Embroidery Flexing

Meanwhile, Consort Jing sets out to save Nihuang from the wine/marriage plot, through the power of embroidery. 

In order to do this she has to make embroidered scent sachets for the Dowager Empress, the Empress, the Grand Princess, and Consort Yue, which she does before going to bed for the night, apparently. Consort Jing kicks ass. 

She makes sure that the Dowager Empress, who is a sweetheart, will be pleased enough with her sachet that she will invite Consort Jing into the room, which will give her an opportunity to present the actually important sachet to Grand Princess Liyang. 

Communication was complicated, before cell phones. 

Once they’re alone, Consort Jing tells Grand Princess Liyang about the plot to force Nihuang to marry Sima Lei. She tells her in the most round-about, triggery way possible, because she needs Liyang to have a flashback, I guess? Otherwise we wouldn’t get to watch her own Mom drugging her to force her to marry Xie Yu. 

Thanks, Mom, I’d be happy to drink this cup of obvious poison. Mom is terrible but her crown is awesome. 

Anyway, once Liyang knows what’s up, she’s on board with team Save Nihuang From Having To Marry A Creep Like My Own Husband.

Clean-shaven Xie Yu: even creepier than regular Xie Yu and also very shiny. Beautiful costume, though. Why are they dressing the flashback villains so nicely? 

Side note: presumably Liyang and her mom didn’t know she was already pregnant when they brought Xie Yu into the mix? Because if they had known, she would probably have been fine with just, like, consenting to marry someone or other, to keep her reputation intact. Anyway it’s worth noting that this whole situation is about appearances, not about whether anyone is actually a literal virgin. 

The Laughing Prince

Jingyan comes for a visit to see how the training is going, and he and Mei Changsu have a sitdown. Mei Changsu tells him that he’s come to town to make sure that the two main contenders for the throne don’t get it, and that he’s going to work to make Jingyan the next emperor. 

Then they stand there gazing at each other, like strangers who definitely have never gotten each other off even a little bit. 

Then Jingyan laughs at him

Jingyan thinks it’s impossible that he would ever be emperor, but he’s happy to go along with Mei Changsu’s plans if it will keep his jerk brothers from winning. 

Building Team Jingyan

Late at night, Meng Zhi drops by to look at Tingsheng and say that he resembles Prince Qi, which he totally doesn’t, but Chinese dramas really don’t worry about casting people who resemble each other to play twins or whatever, so we can take Meng Zhi’s word for it. 

They talk about the Make-Prince-Jing-The-Emperor plan, with Meng Zhi wanting to help out, and Mei Changsu wanting to make sure that only his own hands get dirty with all the schemey stuff he’s planning. 

Hu Ge is really good at talking directly to the camera without looking into the lens. It’s a good technique for intense moments and because he doesn’t look straight into the lens, it doesn’t break the fourth wall. 

Building Team Nihuang

Liyang has spent the day trying to warn Nihuang about the roofie wine situation, but can’t reach her due to a lack of cell phones and/or embroidery skills. 

So she takes the daring step of going to Mei Changsu’s guest house--on her own dang property--which is such a high risk endeavor she has to wear a fancy cloak and cary a super obvious fancy lantern.  God forbid a woman walk around her own house at night.  Anyway, she’s able to pass the warning to Mei Changsu, and asks him to pass it to Nihuang. 

Of course that’s when her husband comes knocking, presumably looking for some affection--he actually is a nice husband who genuinely loves his wife, within the context of a society in which rape is perfectly fine, anyway. 

Her junior servants are freaked out, because visiting a man, even your own houseguest, alone at night is not perfectly fine, so if he catches her, they’re all dead, basically. But the elder servant tells them to chill and just watch how she handles it. 

She politely tells Xie Yu that his wife was reminded of their first date, and so maybe he should leave her and her feelings and her sharp hairpins and whatnot alone for a while. (I’m inferring the hairpins.) He looks slightly terrified and immediately withdraws. 

[helnjk]

In a Crowd of Thousands - Part 1 // F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: You never really forget your childhood love. For Princess Y/N of Diagon, hers came in the form of a boy whose dream it was to start a business and support his family. As it goes, life–and her duty to her kingdom–had gotten in the way. She longed to see him again, to see the success she was sure he had achieved. Luckily, fate was on her side.

Warnings: food mention

A/N: yay she’s finally here ! i hope you enjoy part 1, i’d love to hear what you think ! xx 

Prologue

At seven years old, Princess Y/N of Diagon loved how limitless the castle seemed to be. In fact, most of what she knew about the world she lived in came from the different parts of the castle. 

Flowing dresses and shining jewels belonged in the ballrooms, where many adults often mingled to the soft music of a four piece orchestra. Table manners were strictly followed in the grand dining hall, where the difference of a utensil came in the form of its placement beside the plate. Lessons on etiquette and too many sweets from Minnie were taken in the library, where afternoons were spent basking in the sunlight that filtered through the high windows and highlighted the dust that floated around the room. 

But what Y/N loved most about the place she lived and grew up in was that it was limitless in its hiding places. 

Today, she had taken a trip to the lower floors of the castle and was immediately taken by the hustle and bustle going on around her. What garnered her interest the most, though, was the tantalizing smell wafting through the hallways. Stumbling through the many bodies that littered the busy space, Y/N made her way towards where she assumed the smell was coming from. 

She could feel the curious–and somewhat concerned–gaze of the servants she passed, but there were more important things keeping her attention. 

“Bill, love, I’m going to need you to go out and chop some wood for the fires, the stock is cutting a little bit low today. Charlie, you need to go gather some more eggs from the chickens today,” a strong voice called out from one of the rooms. 

Y/N’s head peeked through the doorframe to see the organized chaos that she assumed was the kitchens. At the center of it all was a woman with fiercely red hair all tied up on top of her head and an apron wrapped around her waist, giving out orders left and right. 

The princess nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized that the woman had stopped talking and was looking in her direction with a raised eyebrow. 

“Hello there, darling,” she smiled softly, “You’ve wandered a little far from your afternoon lessons, haven’t you?” 

Y/N felt the tips of her ears heat up at being caught, but nonetheless she stepped into the kitchen and said, “I’m sorry. It just smells so good in here, I couldn’t help it.” 

The lady beamed with pride at the compliment and beckoned the princess over, “Come, you can help me cook this afternoon. I have reason to believe that I’m making the princess’ favorite meal today.” 

Throughout her stay at the kitchens, Princess Y/N learned quite a few things. One, Molly Weasley was quite possibly the best cook in the whole kingdom. Two, she knew that the red hair and pale skin seemed so familiar, and now she could finally put a face to the name whenever Fred would mention his mother. And three, the kitchens would always be a sanctuary for the young princess if she so desired to skip her lessons with Minerva. 

Speaking of Y/N’s lovely governess, she appeared at the lower floors of the castle just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. 

“Y/N!” Minerva chastised as she crossed the threshold into the kitchens. 

Her young ward froze up at the sound of her voice and she slowly turned around to face the older woman, “Oh, hello Minnie!” 

Molly looked on at the interaction with amusement shining in her eyes, but did not interfere. Instead, she continued on with plating the dishes she and Y/N had made, humming a soft tune under her breath. 

“Dear child, you have no idea what has been going on in your absence,” Minnie sighed, pulling the young princess into her arms and Y/N thought she heard a tinge of relief in her voice, “The Queen almost sent out a search party for you!” 

“Well that would’ve been awfully silly of them to do,” Y/N mused, “Why would I ever leave the castle if it’s full of nice people and good food?” 

“Yes, well, that’s exactly what I told her.” 

An amused sound escaped Molly’s otherwise unbothered facade and both the princess and her governess turned to look at her. 

“I can see now why my dear Freddie’s taken quite a liking to you, princess,” the cook explained, a small smile gracing her gentle face. 

“Yes, she is quite a character, isn’t she?” Minnie rolled her eyes playfully. 

–

At nine years old, Princess Y/N thought she had a good grasp on the inner workings of her home. 

With the help of her best friend and favorite redhead, she discovered secrets and passages in the royal grounds that she never dreamt of finding. Because of her unlikely friendship with him, she knew her way around most of the places she wasn’t really supposed to be making her rounds in.

The morning she was up before her chambermaid arrived, she had the crack in the curtains to thank. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Y/N went to shut the drapes closed just so that she could get some more sleep in, but the sight of outside her window gave her pause. The misty fog that shrouded the grounds and the slowly rising sun peeking through the clouds created such a beautiful sight that the young princess couldn’t help but want to be a part of the beauty. 

Making a snap decision, Y/N threw on one of her coats over her nightgown and donned a pair of her sturdier boots before slipping out of her room. 

If the palace grounds looked stunning from her bedroom window two floors up, it was even more magical up close. As she trudged through the perfectly trimmed grass and moved between the manicured flower bushes, she admired how the fog seemed to glide with her. 

Eventually, she found herself unconsciously walking towards the stables. Ever since her friendship with Fred Weasley began there, it had held a special place in her heart. That morning was no different. 

“Hello gorgeous,” she whispered to one of the chestnut haired mares, stroking her nose gently. The creature gave a soft huff as if in reply and the young girl grinned widely. 

Some shuffling towards the end of the stables caught her attention and she made her way down the stalls. A smile immediately made its way onto Y/N’s face when she spotted the familiar head of red hair. Fred’s back faced her as he worked on stacking the piles of hay. 

“Freddie!” she exclaimed, her feet rushing up to meet him, “I can’t believe you’re up this early! Well, I can’t believe I’m up this early but–”

At the sound of her voice, Fred had spun around quickly to face her. His expression was that of someone who had just been caught misbehaving and it confused the princess. Fred’s eyes looked her up and down and he visibly gulped. 

“P-princess!” he stammered. He bent down into a low bow–something Y/N had never seen him do before–and said, “To what do I owe the honor of speaking with you this morning?”

“The honor?” Y/N laughed, “Freddie are you alright? You’re acting weird. You’ve never bowed to me before, you don’t need to! It’s just me.” 

“Mother always said to bow in the presence of royalty,” he shrugged. 

Before Y/N could reply, Fred simply went back to methodically stacking the bales of hay. She could see the tension in his shoulders as he did so, though, and she was left absolutely puzzled. She tried to think of anything she had done recently for him to be this frigid around her, but her mind came up blank. 

“Fred?” she asked tentatively, stepping toward him slowly, “Are you alright? Did I do something?” 

“Everything is alright, princess.” He sent a tentative smile over his shoulder. 

With a huff, Y/N turned on her heel and made the decision to just spend some more time with the horses. At least they had the courtesy of acting like they enjoyed her company. Granted, she gave them carrots to snack on and they naturally drifted towards food, but that wasn’t the point. 

By the time the sun was fully up in the sky and leaking through the small cracks in the walls, Y/N knew it was time to trudge back up into the castle. They were surely looking for her by now. Sighing, she clutched her coat tighter around herself and made one last glance at the redheaded boy who was supposed to be her best friend. 

“I’m going now, Freddie,” she called out, hoping to get some sort of reaction from him, “Minnie’ll be looking for me soon and I can’t miss this morning’s lessons.” 

“Leaving so soon? When I just got here?” 

The shriek that left the princess’ mouth when she saw Fred standing right behind her, by the entrance and simultaneously near the stacks of hay, made him jump. Her head whipped back and forth between the identical redheads at either ends of the stables. 

“What in the world is going on?” she demanded. 

“Well, it looks like you just met my twin,” Fred shrugged nonchalantly, “His name’s George and I don’t think he’s quite used to being in the presence of a royal.” 

“And it never crossed your mind to tell me that you had an identical twin?” Y/N asked, exasperated, “Here I thought you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.” 

The cheeky grin Fred sent her nearly made her roll her eyes, but he draped an arm around her shoulders, squeezed lightly and said, “Maybe I just wanted to be your favorite redhead in the whole kingdom. Didn’t know if I could take sharing you with my less-handsome twin.” 

With a playful shove, Y/N replied, “Well too bad for you because Molly is definitely my favorite redhead in the whole kingdom.” 

That reply got a reaction from George, who snorted while trying to keep the piles from falling down on him and the princess grinned. She knew he was of a good sort and she would crack his shell eventually. 

–

At 11 years old, Princess Y/N had never been so nervous in her life. 

She felt as if her feet were physically glued to her place in the middle of the grand hallway as she stared at the doors that led to the library. 

There wasn’t anything particularly terrifying about the library. No, the library was a place for her lessons with Minnie and for spending afternoons getting lost in a good book. However, what the princess was about to do was definitely something that sparked a little fear and trepidation in her. 

Still, she was going to be late for her morning lessons if she wasted anymore time dawdling in the hallway. With a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped inside. 

Minnie was already seated at one of the center tables, a few pieces of paper spread out in front of her. Her eyes met with Y/N’s and she gave a nod of acknowledgement. 

“Good morning, Princess,” she said. 

“Morning Minnie.” 

Lessons went about as usual, if not slightly tense from the younger girl’s perspective. By the time they had finished for the morning, Y/N was practically shaking in her seat. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s been keeping you preoccupied this morning?” Minerva quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” the princess admitted. 

“Now dear, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. I think I can tell when something’s on your mind.” 

Y/N thought of the way she and Fred had planned everything out meticulously, how decided on exactly what to say to Minnie so that she would say yes. Still, her mind ended up blanking and she silently cursed herself. 

“Oh, out with it, Y/N.” 

“Please could I go horseback riding with Fred this afternoon,” she said in one breath. Before Minerva could open her mouth to reply, the princess continued, “I’ve been really good with my lessons this week and Fred’s already checked that no one’s riding the horses this afternoon and he said he was going to teach me how to ride without being on side-saddle!” 

“Okay dear, take a breath,” her governess chuckled, “As long as you finish your coursework before the sun sets, I’m sure you could go riding with Mr. Weasley.” 

At her statement, Minerva was rewarded with a beaming smile and a multitude of ‘thank yous’. 

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Y/N was a bundle of excited nerves. Being a princess, she had been taught how to ride horses on side saddle, as it was the proper thing to do, but that meant she couldn’t go any faster than a trot. The idea of being able to go racing, feeling the cool breeze on her face and her hair whipping around her, it brought about a giddiness she couldn’t explain. 

Fred was already at the stables by the time she arrived, panting and resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. 

“Well don’t you look excited,” he teased as he fiddled with the saddle of one of the smaller horses. 

“Came here as fast as I could, the moment Minnie said I was free to go,” she said breathily. 

He replied with a grin and patted the horse after he was finished saddling up, “Well you’re in luck because Poseidon here is all geared up for you. Whenever you’re ready, Princess.” 

It took a few tries, but when Y/N was successfully on the horse, she beamed. 

Fred stepped back for a moment and she could see his arms were far from relaxed, almost as if he was anticipating an accident. He raised an eyebrow, “Are you alright there or do you need me to stay nearby in case you fall?”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much,” she rolled her eyes, “Just get on your own horse.” 

The redhead sent her a mock salute and skillfully mounted his own horse– a chestnut brown stallion that stood tall and proud. The pair of them began a slow trot around the paddock just so that the princess could get used to things before Fred sent her a wink then nudged his horse to pick up the speed.

Fred often sent her words of encouragement and advice, making sure that she was comfortable with the speed that they were going and that her horse was alright. It warmed her heart to see him so careful and protective. It didn’t take long for her to get the hang of things and convince him that she was fine. 

Soon, Y/N was letting out laughs of delight, adrenaline pumping through her veins as Poseidon galloped gracefully through the vast expanse of the estate. Fred let out whoops out joy every once in a while beside her and she felt as if she was on top of the world. 

Time passed by in the blink of an eye and soon the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. The orange hue that it left in its wake was stunning and it highlighted the gorgeous curves and dips of the landscape.

They spent a moment appreciating the view, horses side by side. It was the cherry on top of a perfect day, Y/N thought. 

–

At 13 years old, Princess Y/N of Diagon truly felt like her world was crashing down around her. 

Her hands shook as she sat on the front steps of the palace, elbows pressed against her knees. Eyes locked ahead, she tried to take steadying breaths but all she could focus on was the small dot on the horizon that became increasingly larger as it approached. 

A pair of carriages were coming to pick up the Weasleys. Arthur had been offered a baronship–a feat that would provide the family enough funds to live comfortably for the rest of their lives–and today was the day they chose to make the move. The entire family stood at the bottom of the stairs, a line of fiery red hair and excited energy, complete all except for one. 

Fred Weasley sat beside his princess, silent and contemplative. 

They both knew this moment was coming, and Fred had tried his best to spend the remaining time he had with her. They had spent hours upon hours doing things that they loved to do together. 

Afternoons were spent out riding, feeling the sun warm their skin and the breeze cool them again. Late nights were for nicking food from the kitchens and right under Molly’s nose. Minnie had even lessened the amount of time she and the princess had with their lessons, knowing fully well that Y/N needed it. 

Still, knowing something was going to happen and actually experiencing it are two separate things. The knowledge that Fred was going to leave her all alone didn’t quell the tightness in Y/N’s chest when the day finally came. 

The moment the carriages passed through the gates to the castle, her lip trembled and her breaths shortened. 

“Y/N,” Fred mumbled, turning his entire body to face her. 

A choked sob escaped the princess and she shook her head. 

Before she could reply, the young girl felt the familiar arms of her best friend wrap around her. His scent enveloped her and suddenly her tears were freely falling. 

They stayed in that position for a long moment; the princess sniffling and attempting to gather herself while Fred held her. Strong and steady. 

“You know how much this means to my family and me,” he whispered, his hands rubbing up and down her back, “I’ll be able to go to school, to finally do what I’ve always dreamed of doing.” 

“You’re not allowed to forget about me, alright?” she choked out as her palms went to swipe at the wetness on her cheeks, “When you’re a successful businessman and you’ve travelled the world, you have to remember little old me.” 

With a slightly skeptical shake of the head, Fred cracked a small smile and said, “How could I ever forget my favorite princess?” 

“Just making sure,” she whispered. 

“Now, you have to promise me that you’re going to make your dreams come true too,” he said, looking into her eyes. 

“I promise.” 

Y/N took a deep breath, eyes closed. She savored the last few moments she had with her best friend, and she squeezed him tightly before moving out of his grasp. 

“I love you loads, Freddie,” she said. 

“You know I love you too, Princess,” he grinned back at her. 

It wasn’t long before Molly was calling for Fred. 

With one last squeeze of the hand, Fred stood. “We’ll find each other again, Y/N. I’ll make sure of it.” 

All the Weasleys turned to face their Princess, some sending radiant smiles and others waving enthusiastically at her. She couldn’t help but smile and wave back, her eyes drifting towards her favorite redhead as he descended the steps. 

As the family began to sort themselves into the carriages, Fred looked back at his best friend one last time and sent her his signature charming smile. She gave him a small wave and then he was out of her sight. 

Y/N’s eyes stayed locked on the pair of carriages until they disappeared past the horizon. She remained seated on the steps of the palace until the sun had set and someone had come to tell her that supper was ready. 

That night, Y/N fell asleep with the feeling of dried tears on her skin and Minnie’s hands brushing through her hair. 

Series Taglist: @prismarts​ @snoopydoop1​ @the-romanian-is-bae​ @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @manuosorioh​​

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[genshin-impacted]

empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (1)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy. 

Notes: female!reader, eventual mutual pining, fake political maneuvers, mentions of death (yes, this is a set up to a harem drama, but Zhongli is focused in this), Zhongli POV

[Next]

hello welcome to the AU I made up; hope I finish this someday :)

“You are unfit to lead this country.”

Not two weeks after a tragedy that hits the royal family, leaving you the sole heir to the throne, that is what has been said to you over and over again. The royal court adjourns without delay, placing you in the middle of it-- though you could care less.

You hold whatever you have been able to salvage from the fire: a necklace momento from your father, the dress that your mother had woven herself. And in your hands, you hold in an urn the ashes of what remains of your family. 

There is nothing else on your mind except for the fact that you are alone as the lone heir to the throne, the only living princess of the royal bloodline, and soon-to-be Empress of a nation that you are not prepared to lead.

You just want to mourn.

.

.

.

Zhongli has lived long enough to understand that politics will always be the determining factor in which his life will be led. It does not matter what he dreams of doing or what he desires. As the only born son to one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the nation, his life has never been his own-- though he supposed no one born of royalty has ever been truly in control of their path.

Still, Zhongli finds ways to play what cards he has. He earns praises for his wide array of knowledge in tradition, politics, and culture alike, but it is easy to know something if you are interested in it. He remembers vividly when Guizhong teased him, calling him an old soul when he delved personally into the traditions of tea ceremony, of calligraphy and poetry, out of his own volition because he enjoyed learning. His skills in the polearm-- also passed down in his lineage-- have also not been neglected, for he finds that it is similar to dancing, an elegant and respectful pastime that he often admires in operas and shows that he indulges himself in. If he could do anything with his life, Zhongli thinks he would be a writer or a teacher, or possibly even a historian.

("Old man," Guizhong had said to him affectionately for the last time before she left the compound to serve her duty as a princess, like many others. "One day you'll find yourself someone who listens to you and you'll talk their ear off."

"I doubt anyone would listen to what I have to say willingly," he had said, and his friend had only given him a soft look and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

"I don't," she said.)

It has been years since he has entertained the idea of living a quiet life writing his knowledge onto paper and even longer still since had long last seen his childhood friend. Zhongli finds himself in the fray of politics that he knows so much of and has no choice but to delve into when he is invited to the royal capital.

"It is a great honor," his father had said to him, hands behind his back, "to be meeting the Princess of the royal family. Make a good impression; this is of the utmost importance."

Political maneuver, Zhongli thinks immediately, not doubting the intention of an invitation coming from the palace, especially after the incident he has been told of. A fire of great destruction, the burning of a whole wing with the royal family trapped inside-- one would think it was a plot to overthrow the Emperor, but if anyone were to stage a coup, they would have burned the inner walls of the palace where the man resides, bedridden. A great coincidence to have the royal family unable to escape, but it almost seems too malicious to call it that. Gross neglect? Bad luck? Karma? Truly, a tragedy as the death of many could not be described worse than as an accident. 

Zhongli thinks it is much too early to be moving the chess pieces so soon after half the board has been razed to the ground, but he supposed the world has never been that kind.

With a trained expression, Zhongli picks up the tea that had been brewed and takes a sip (too bitter, stepped too long, he thinks, wincing slightly, and putting the cup down). "I understand, father." He pauses for a moment and considers his words. "Is there a particular reason for this invitation?"

"The Princess is in need of education due to her lack of preparation as an heir," he says, "though I also hear she is in need of a husband as well."

The tea leaves in the cup trembles for a moment before sinking. "Father?"

"This is an opportunity of a lifetime, son."

And Zhongli thinks about his role, his abandoned journal, and books yet to be read and nods. "I understand," he says, wondering why, even though he expects where his life has been leading, he feels disappointed by the outcome anyway. "I will bring honor to our family."

"I expect nothing less," is what is said to him, and Zhongli swallows the bitterness of the tea down.

.

.

When Zhongli arrives at the palace, he is welcomed with all the excitement that is to be expected from the arrival of a son whose family holds prestige. Maids of many numbers cater to his every whim, and the few court officials who seem to favor him welcome him to the royal palace, which is broad and grand just as history would describe them. 

Briefly, he wonders if it is professionalism or greed that maintains the palace’s daily businesses after an evident tragedy.

"I would like to extend my greetings and gratitude to the princess for allowing me in her castle," Zhongli says carefully, his voice even and words like silk-- just as he was taught as an educated man-- and watches in confusion as the nobleman who had barely kept his pleasure at his presence suddenly deflate. 

"Ah, yes, of course, you would like to see the Princess," he says, a nervous lilt to his voice. "But I'm afraid she is preoccupied with another commitment at the moment. My apologies."

Invitation from the Princess, he remembers reading from the telegram, thinking it strange that someone would invite someone without intentions of welcoming them. It's easy to come to the conclusion that the Princess had not sent the message-- and the thought that she may not even know of his arrival also comes following after. Instead of speaking, Zhongli nods, much to the noble's relief as he continues to parade and provide him the tour that he has not asked for but appreciates nevertheless.

His room is two halls down the main chambers where you live. If the location and proximity to royalty were not enough, the room itself was also vast and much too big for one person, but he supposes luxury and decadence can be shown in empty space as well as it can with beautiful trinkets and trophies. Zhongli has always admired such things, as he does with the ornate statue sitting on top of his vanity and wonders when, if he ever does, he will be able to explore the castle in between whatever responsibilities the court deems him in need for.

"Maid," Zhongli says gently, but the young maid startles anyway when he addresses her. 

"Yes, sir?"

"Would I be allowed to stroll the gardens of the west side of the palace?" He says, "The moon is to be full tonight and I wish to view it."

She flushes, for reasons that Zhongli knows not for. "I-I believe so. The guards should be patrolling at the moment, but you are a recognized guest of the palace, so all should be well."

When Zhongli steps out onto the carefully maintained rock garden, he spots a few men walking down and up the inner walls of the castle. He briefly thinks about the number of them but thinks no further, for now. Instead, he thinks the moon is best viewed when its reflection is in the water, clouds are nowhere in sight, and all is quiet. He comes close to the perimeter of the garden inner castle, expecting to see no one. 

Zhongli steps into the moonlight and watches as you sit onto the grass and lean your head against the lone lantern post.

Perhaps you are here to moon-gaze as well, he thinks and goes to alert you with his presence by clearing his throat. He doesn't know why his earnest attempts to be unalarming go unwell, but he startles you into turning around. 

Zhongli does not know what the Princess looks like, nor has he had anyone describe you to him. But Zhongli knows who you are if not solely from the emblem you carry on your headpiece and the way you hold a funeral urn in your lap like it is the only thing tethering you. As such, he expects the caustic demands of his name and stature, as expected of a Princess, but he is surprised to find that you look at him instead like a deer in headlights, arms tense around the urn.

"My apologies for startling you, my lady," Zhongli begins, "that was not my intention."

"Oh, no, it's okay," you stammer, and he has to blink for a moment at the manner in which you speak. "I should have probably noticed you coming. I was distracted."

Princesses and princes of the royal family are taught three things from birth: power, manners, and tradition. Nothing says more about your status than the way you hold yourself and the way you speak, especially if you are of royalty, and so every word that one must speak seems carefully crafted and intricately woven with elegance. A tad bit obnoxious, if anyone could say, but it is a mark of the elite, regardless of the former. 

But you, who hold possibly one, if not the most, powerful title in the country, speak casually and without bothering with a mask of neutrality, as though you are unused to the burdens of sovereignty.

Your eyes are gentle, almost excessively so, and the way you hold yourself as though you want to be unnoticed are both strange but corroborating evidence of your peculiarities of a noblewoman. Though Zhongli has yet to understand why this is so, the instructions his father listed and his role in the castle has become clearer.

Zhongli has many questions, too many to ask about to a person who has no idea who he is. 

Decorum takes him before his curiosity overwhelms him, and he lowers his head in deep respect. "My name is Zhongli, Princess. Thank you for allowing me to stay as a guest within the palace.”

"Oh," he hears you breathe out, "you're the one that came today." You turn your head toward the koi pond that beautifully reflects the moon. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you," you say mechanically, trained.

"No, that's quite alright," Zhongli says mildly, glancing down at the urn still in your hands. "I'm sure greeting a stranger would be the least of your concerns at the moment."

At this, you smile at him. It is not a happy smile, but rather a pained one that strains your lips and pinches your eyes. Zhongli thinks back on his first lesson to maintain his expression, to keep composure, and almost marvels at the emotions clear on your face for him to see. 

(He thinks this may make your life harder for you, to wear your heart on your sleeves. But he finds himself selfishly wanting you to stay as you are.)

"I've been told one week is all I should be given to mourn, as typical of a funeral ceremony. My parents' ashes should be released but…" You glance up at the night sky dim with stars. "I know in my heart this is not the place for them."

"Then what is the place?" Zhongli echoes and holds his breath when the smile you give him is gentle beyond measure.

"Some place where the wind blows," you say, "where the earth is clean and the ocean is near. That way, my parents can choose freely where to find rest." You laugh. "That must be a pretty tall order, isn't it?"

"You are a Princess," Zhongli finds himself saying, and you turn back to him. "I believe you are allowed to demand only the very best, for yourself and your loved ones."

"I believe," he continues, when he sees your eyes mist over, "that I am here to tutor you in the ways the court deems fit. I have been praised to have a wealth of knowledge and the privilege of history in my family as well as the power of my lineage; I will guide you as best as you need me to." He pauses. "And… if you require a geographical lesson on the highest peaks, the widest oceans, and the most open plains, for reasons beyond academic, I will be available to you."

.

.

.

Zhongli returns to his room (two halls away, he reminds himself, from you), and it is only then he realizes that he has not looked at the moon at all. Not directly, he thinks, but he supposes he did see a glimpse of it, as it stands behind you as a backdrop to frame the smile you gave him that was as bright as starlight.

[muertawrites]

Fireside (Zuko x Reader)

Word Count: 1,775

Author’s Note: I am so deeply sorry this took so long to post. I don’t know what happened but after Thanksgiving the creative part of my brain completely shut down and all I could do was lay in bed and play video games. But it’s back now so 🎉🎉🎉 happy new year to all of us! 

I got this request a WHILE ago and had written something else for it but after reconsidering, I totally hated it, so this is the rewrite for some cozy, wintery goodness. I also love this idea because I’m constantly cold - my feet and hands are always freezing and even in summer I’ll wear sweaters and hoodies because aircon can get pretty chilly when you have the body temp of your average vampire. 

Now for a little update: in the new year, I’ll be focusing more on original works than fanfiction. I’m still going to finish Two Halves, and I’ll still write fanfiction (because it’s still super fun) but I have so many ideas for original works that are taking over my brain that it seems only fitting to shift that direction. If you’re on my subscriber list and would like to only receive alerts for fanfic, let me know and I’ll add you to a separate list. 

I hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday, taking time to relax and spend time with loved ones, and generally just glad to have survived this shithole of a year. Here’s hoping that 2021 goes better - 2020 set the bar pretty low so it shouldn’t be too hard. 🥂

Snow was a rare occurrence in the Fire Nation. Summers typically scorched, followed by peaceful autumns and mild winters; a little rainfall was all one typically expected during the colder months in the Imperial City. 

This year, however, was much different. The mountains that bordered the villages and towns throughout the island were white capped under gray skies; streets were slickened by thick layers of ice that settled between cobblestones and creased the panes of windows; bracing breezes swept through landscapes unaccustomed to such unforgiving weather, carrying flurries of snow that bit at cheeks and cloaked the world in a dull ivory veil. Winter came to the Fire Nation seeking a cruel, unwarranted vengeance.

You woke in the middle of the night to find the fire beside your bed had died, leaving your borrowed room in a state of bitter, slicing cold. It wasn't the first time the Firelord’s palace had left you uncomfortably chilled since your arrival for his New Year’s celebrations, as the building was never meant to withstand this type of climate - sweeping ceilings, open breezeways, and tall windows with thin shutters ensured that the cold had its way. Being from the Northern Earth Kingdom, used to sturdy wooden lodges with massive fire pits that could burn an entire tree trunk with one lighting, this strange change of the typical season made you ache for home. 

Knowing there were no matches beside the hearth (given the sheer amount of fire benders that resided in the palace), you gathered up your courage and begrudgingly rolled from your mattress, taking the blankets with and wrapping them tightly around yourself. The walls around you creaked, shifting under the push of moaning winds, as you slipped into the hallway in search of your host. 

You were thankful that Zuko decided to keep his personal wing of the palace confined to a space that was mostly enclosed; the only breezeways in this part of the sprawling estate surrounded its courtyards and gardens, and were blocked by sets of heavy wood doors that shielded the inner parts of the building from being overcome by the elements. As you walked, traipsing through the corridor under your mound of blankets like some sort of shadowy, death-bringing phantom, you passed one of the windows that overlooked the gardens, and found it frosted under heavy white tufts of snow; puffy, clumped flakes whirled down from the sky, falling haphazardly as they escaped the grip of the whipping wind. Even in the relative warmth of the palace, your body shivered thinking of how frigid the air outside must be. 

Because of the abnormal cold, Zuko moved his mattress out of his bedroom and into his sitting room, where a large, decorative fireplace stood nestled into the far wall. You approached his sleeping form with gentle, quiet steps, being careful not to startle him; you lay a hand on his shoulder and he jolted awake, drawing a sharp breath in as he twisted to face you, blinking blearily to make out your features in the dark. 

“What are you doing?” he muttered. 

“I'm cold,” you whispered in response. “My fire went out.” 

Zuko sighed, fixing you with an irked, exhausted expression. 

“Seriously?” he groaned. “This is the third time this week.” 

“It's not my fault nobody has any friggin matches in this place,” you quipped. “And besides, why bring a servant all the way up here when I have one of the world’s greatest fire benders down the hall?”

Zuko huffed, then rolled back over in an attempt to shove you off. 

“There should be more blankets in your closet,” he grumbled. 

“I'm wearing all of them,” you retorted. 

You stood above him, waiting, but got no response. Shivering, and with an exasperated sigh, you pulled back the blankets around him, shuffling between them and nestling into his back; he snapped his head around once more, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“... Isn’t this a little uncomfortable?” he wondered. 

“Not really,” you replied. “We used to do this all the time when we were teenagers.” 

“We haven't done this since we were teenagers.”

You hummed, recalling your time together during the war. Even on the hottest days, your body was cold, your fingers always reasonably corpselike to anyone who happened to touch them - Zuko was one of those unfortunate people, and the lack of circulation in your limbs came as quite a worry to him. Throughout the day, he would take one of your hands in his, heating his palm until your skin took on a more lively temperature. When he noticed how much you layered at night when the air became cooler, he started sleeping nearer to you, eventually curling up around you to keep you warm. After the war, when he got into the habit of visiting you around the winter holidays, you still found yourself seeking him for warmth, tucking your hands into the sleeves of his robes or curling his palm around your icy fingers, finding sanctuary in the way he heated his skin to appease you. While it was true you hadn't slept together since you were younger, you hadn't ever needed to - desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“I should have remembered that you get so grumpy when you're tired,” you teased him, rubbing your feet against his; he hissed, but didn't pull away. 

“You're freezing,” he commented. “I should have remembered you're dead on the inside.” 

You giggled, sighing happily as the familiar heat of his skin warming like a furnace chased the chill from your toes. You slid your feet up along his ankles, causing him to shiver; his body tensed for a moment, then eased into your touch, quickly finding comfort in its familiarity. 

“Aang used to assume we were a couple because of this,” Zuko mumbled. “He still does.” 

“You're just a good friend,” you replied. You nuzzled your face into the broad, solid expanse of his back, breathing in his scent of scorched wood and sea salt. He felt like home. “Good friends don't let their friends freeze to death.” 

Zuko chuckled, taking hold of your hands that lay on his waist and cupping them within his own; he held your knuckles up to his mouth and huffed warm, smokey air onto them, heating them until they no longer felt cold. He tucked them beneath the fabric of his tunic, keeping them tepid between the fabric of his undershirt. 

“Uncle says the same thing,” he mused. “He says we treat each other like lovers, whether we realize it or not.” 

“My neighbors have asked me what my husband does that takes him away for so long out of the year...” you commented, eliciting another breathy laugh from your companion. “But I think I'd know if you were in love with me.” 

Zuko rolled over, turning to face you; his arm latched at your waist, his chest almost pressed to you and your noses grazing each other in the small space of his mattress. You blushed, the color blending with the soft, balmy glow of the low hearth behind him. 

“What makes you think I'm not in love with you?” he wondered. 

You paused, watching the flames flicker over the angular features of his face. Though he was silhouetted, and so close he seemed to envelop all of you, you could make out a tender gleam in his eye; could feel the flutter in his chest as he split it open, tentatively revealing his heart to you. 

“... I'd like to think you would have mentioned it,” you answered after a moment, “but I know you better than that.” 

Zuko grinned; you watched the curve of his cheek as it swelled with the action. 

“I might have mentioned it,” he murmured, his voice lilting with a gentle mirth. “Just not to you.”

“Of course not,” you teased. You mirrored his smile, easing into him as his foot began to stroke against your ankle once more. “Either way, I know you don't love me.” 

“And why is that?” Zuko whispered. 

“Well… you never write to me about anything exciting,” you replied. “You always seem so content to write to me about your thoughts, or what plays you've seen recently, or your conversations with Iroh. You never tell me about the impressive, world-altering Firelord stuff or your incredible exploits as a warrior.” 

Zuko smirked, raising a hand to brush some hair away from your face. His fingers were calloused and lukewarm, tracing over your temple with consideration and care. 

“Why else?” 

“You've never tried to kiss me,” you noted, “or touch me like a lover. You never try to push our boundaries past anything that's comfortable for us. Even right now - I'm laying in your bed, but you refuse to touch me in a way you're unsure of.” 

“Then you don't love me, either,” Zuko added. His body had gravitated flush to yours, your legs braided together under the pile of blankets you'd buried him in. “You only want to sleep with me when you're cold. You could just as easily call a servant for help.” 

“And you only want to keep me warm out of obligation,” you agreed. “It wouldn’t make you look very good if I died of hypothermia on your watch.” 

For a long moment, Zuko gazed at you. You basked in his silence, the easiness of his form so close to yours, the native feeling of his arm around your waist and his breath tickling your cheeks. The fire snapped quietly in its hearth, its flames rising and falling in time with his inhales and exhales. 

“I’ve missed this,” Zuko admitted in a whisper. “Laying with you. I wish we could do it more often.” 

“I’ve missed it, too,” you affirm. “I always used to sleep better with you.” 

“And that’s it?” Zuko teased. 

“That’s it,” you giggled back. 

He chanced a kiss to your forehead, pressing his lips between your brows and letting them linger there, savoring the coolness of your skin. You shut your eyes, giving yourself entirely to his touch. 

“In the new year… do you think we could be lovers?” he asked as he pulled away. 

“... I think your uncle is right,” you murmured. “I think we already are.” 

With a faint, bashful smile, Zuko pulled you closer (if the act were even possible), hugging you tightly to him; you held him close, pressing the whole of your body to his and soaking in his steady, comforting warmth. As the wind howled outside, shaking the flimsy wooden eaves of the feeble shelter around you, you fell asleep in the heat of his fireside, safe in the knowledge that his arms held you. 

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[sasaranomiya]

Koukyuu no Karasu Volume 1 Chapter 1 - The Jade Earring (Part 4)

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“A-Are we really going there, Niangniang?” Jiujiu said as she followed Jusetsu, on the verge of crying. “I’ve said so from the beginning. And refrain from calling me ‘Niangniang.’ I am currently a palace lady, so speak normally.” “But…” Jiujiu lowered her eyebrows as if troubled. She seemed to be at a loss as to how to maintain a distance from Jusetsu. The two girls were heading to the southwest of the inner palace. As they crossed a vermillion-lacquered bridge over a creek, Jiujiu suddenly cast her face down and hid behind Jusetsu. Just as Jusetsu wondered what was going on, she saw a palace lady on the other side of the willow trees planted near the creek. It was the Palace Secretarial Bureau palace lady who high-handedly ordered Jiujiu to mend her clothes. She seemed to be hurrying towards Hien Palace. She didn’t notice them. “——She has left.” Jusetsu told her. Jiujiu nervously raised her face. After checking the opposite bank, she let out a sigh of relief. “Was that the palace lady who was exchanging letters with a eunuch of Hien Palace? She seems to be quite eager to visit it frequently. Even though she has her own work to do.” “Yes, however, she denies it. She said that there was no way she would ever be involved with the likes of a eunuch, and that she was only doing it as a favor for someone. She also told me to stay quiet about the correspondence.” “As a favor for someone?” “Apparently, another palace lady from the Palace Secretarial Bureau asked her to deliver letters on her behalf. But then, that palace lady would have done it herself, wouldn’t she? I think she’s hiding her embarrassment, though.” Oh? Jusetsu tilted her head. Certainly, it seemed unlike that that palace lady would be so kind as to assist in the exchanging of letters. They started walking again and crossed the bridge. They passed through several gardens, progressed through a walkway with earthen walls, and passed by palace buildings. The scenery around them soon became desolate. There were no beautiful gardens to be seen, and the buildings were simple and plain. These were the dormitories of the servants. Sen’e House was located on the outskirts of the inner palace. Large and small canals ran through the palace, but the land was low and poorly drained in the outskirts of the inner palace. That was why it was always damp and the buildings covered in mold and moss. Because it was a place of banishment within the inner palace, the surrounding area was a cesspool of ill-natured low-ranking eunuchs and palace ladies, and the law and order there was bad. As one approached, the spots with collapsed walls became more and more noticeable. Roof tiles were falling off. The path was no longer gravel, weeds were growing out of the unplowed ground, and rocks littered the ground. There were eunuchs, red-faced and possibly drunk on cheap alcohol in the daytime, leaning against the walls and sleeping, and eunuchs scrutinizing Jusetsu and Jiujiu as though evaluating them. Jiujiu clung to Jusetsu’s back in fear. “No need to be afraid,” Jusetsu told her. They wouldn’t attack them thoughtlessly, and it wouldn’t be a big deal even if they did. It would be different if they came at them with killing intent—— However, it seemed that that “different thing” was happening. The two eunuchs staring at them staggered towards them. Jusetsu put herself on guard, and then another pair of eunuchs appeared from behind a collapsed wall. They were all dressed in the robes of low-ranking eunuchs, but their eyes were sharp. Just when she realized that they weren’t simple rogue eunuchs, they pulled out daggers from their breasts, and Jiujiu let out a hoarse scream. They quickly surrounded the two girls. “What is it that you lot want? We do not have any money.” They didn’t answer her and, without saying a word, slowly closing the distance. This might be problematic, Jusetsu tensed. Jusetsu brought her hand to the back of her head—but she recalled that since she was currently dressed as a palace lady, she didn’t have her flowers. Clicking her tongue, she dropped her hand and turned her palm upwards. Heat gathered in her palm. The air wavered, and when one thought a heat haze had been produced, light pink petals appeared on her palm. The petals appeared in succession, linked together, and gradually became a peony flower. The eunuchs, upon seeing this, stopped in their tracks, shaken. They looked at each other in bewilderment, trying to see what the other would do. You should retreat if you are scared, Jusetsu had a sliver of hope, but it seemed it was all for naught. Letting out a yell, one of the eunuchs rushed forward. Jusetsu blew on the peony. Upon doing so, the peony became a gust of wind and assailed the eunuchs. They cried out at the sharp blades of wind. Taking that opportunity, Jusetsu took Jiujiu’s hand and tried to slip between them. “Kyaaah!” However, a eunuch grabbed Jiujiu’s collar. “Jiujiu!” Jusetsu tried to use her arts again at the eunuch who raised his dagger overhead, but she couldn’t make it in time. Right when she kicked off the ground and was about to put herself between Jiujiu and the blade, the eunuch fell sideways. “What are you all doing!” A eunuch had tackled him from the side. He looked to be in his thirties, with drooping eyes and good-natured features. “Why are you mugging two helpless palace ladies?” The eunuch shouted angrily. He hung over the fallen eunuch and tried to take away the knife. The fallen eunuch kicked the other eunuch in the stomach and got up with the knife in his hand. Just as he was about to point the blade at the eunuch who came to help, a stone came flying in from somewhere and hit his hand cleanly. A groan came from somewhere else. Looking in that direction, a young eunuch who came out of nowhere was twisting the arm of a eunuch who was holding a knife and pressing him against the ground. That wasn’t all. The other eunuchs were also groaning, clutching his arms and legs. ——It seemed that in an instant, this young eunuch had disarmed them completely. “Get out of here!” The eunuchs attempted to flee as though they had lost their heads. The young eunuch released the arms of the eunuch pressed against the ground. He also frantically stood up and fell over himself as he chased after his escaped associates. “Are you hurt, Niangniang?” The eunuch turned back to Jusetsu. It was an unfamiliar face. He had a beautiful face and looked to be just before twenty years old. His long, single-lidded eyes were especially beautiful. Even the straight scar running down his cheek looked like an ornament. “Attendant Ei has ordered me to guard you. I am Onkei. I have been following you in the shadows. Please forgive me for my discourtesy.” Onkei, with his well-proportioned and slender body, bowed gracefully with his hands clasped. “I see, Ei Sei…” He was a shrewd man. “You saved us. You have my gratitude. ——Who were those men? They do not seem like simple muggers.” “I don’t know. However, they are most likely subordinates from the emperor dowager’s faction.” “The empress dowager…?” Wasn’t she supposed to be confined? And why were they attacking Jusetsu now? “…Come to think of it,” Jusetsu looked around. She was searching for the eunuch who helped them first, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Was that eunuch not Ei Sei’s subordinate?” “I don’t know. I presumed he was just coincidentally passing by.” If she remembered correctly, that man was dressed like a low-ranking eunuch with dark gray robes and a black cap. He must have been a very chivalrous person, if he was only passing by and plunged into the middle of a group of ruffians with knives. If she had the chance to meet him again, she would have to thank him. “Jiujiu, are you unhurt…” Jusetsu asked, turning around, but Jiujiu’s legs had collapsed beneath her, and she was on the verge of tears. It was understandable. “Are you alright?” When she held out her hand, Jiujiu clung to Jusetsu and began to cry. “I’m sorry. I involved you in danger. You should go back to Yamei Palace.” She raised her head to tell Onkei to escort her back, but Jiujiu shook her head and let go of Jusetsu. “No, I shall accompany you, Niangniang,” she said and wiped her tears. “But…” “You tried to save me, didn’t you?” She was referring to when Jusetsu tried to step between her and the eunuch’s knife. “I will accompany you.” Saying only those words, Jiujiu sniffled. “…Thank you.” Somehow, an itchy feeling tickled her chest. It was the first time she had ever felt this way.

---

Flanked by Jiujiu and Onkei on both sides, Jusetsu stood in front of Sen’e House. The entrance was half-collapsed and tilting, and the gateposts were on the verge of rotting away. When they passed through it, they saw palace ladies in earth-colored dresses washing clothes in washbasins with tired expressions. All had pale faces, and some of them were elderly. They didn’t raise their heads even when Jusetsu and the others passed by them. Jiujiu stood close to Jusetsu’s arm and looked around fearfully. ——This place was called the palace ladies’ graveyard. As soon as they stepped into the building with mossy roof tiles, a musty smell assailed their noses. The walls were covered in mold. The eunuch in charge of this place led them to a room in the back. “This is So Kougyou’s room. ——However, I think it would be a waste of time trying to ask her anything,” the eunuch said over his shoulder, not even turning his lifeless eyes towards Jusetsu and the others. “Why is that?” “You’ll know once you see her.” Well then. The eunuch left. There was no door at the entrance, only a slightly dirty curtain. Onkei stood guard in front of it, and Jusetsu entered the room. A simple bed was set up by the window of the cramped room, and a woman was lying on top of it. The eunuch told them that she had been lying in bed since yesterday with a fever. Sen’e House took in many of those who could no longer move from illness. The woman’s hair was thin and half-greying, and both her face and body were emaciated. At first glance, she looked like an old woman because of her dull skin and deep wrinkles, but upon closer look, she didn’t seem that old. “…Sou Kougyou?” Jusetsu asked, bending over the bed. The woman half-opened her eyes and looked up at Jusetsu. Her gaze wandered, but she made no answer. Jusetsu was about to ask again when the woman opened her mouth. She involuntarily startled and drew her body back. There was no tongue in the woman’s mouth. The woman’s gaze chased Jusetsu and she uttered a few sounds that didn’t sound like words. Jusetsu thought that she probably meant “Yes.” ——Now I understand what that eunuch said it would be a waste of time asking her anything. There was no way for her to answer any questions. She had heard that in the inner palace, cutting out the tongues of palace ladies was a rare punishment, but she hadn’t thought it would be a real thing. It was atrocious. ——I can only ask her questions where she can answer by nodding her head yes or shaking her head no. “…I am the Raven Consort. I live in Yamei Palace. I came here to question you about some things.” Jusetsu took out the earring from underneath her sash. “Do you know this——” Earring? She was about to finish, but before that happened, Kougyou’s expression clearly changed. Her eyes widened, and her face was a mixture of fear and shock. She was eagerly trying to say something, but only moans and drool came out of her mouth. “Does this belong to Han-oujo?” She nodded her head many times. And then, she eagerly moved her mouth and gestured with her hands like she was writing something. “…You wish to communicate by writing?” When she asked that, Kougyou nodded vigorously. Jusetsu turned to Jiujiu. “Borrow a writing brush and paper from that eunuch.” Jiujiu went out, but returned after a few moments with a troubled face. “He said that there are no such things here. He also said that she can’t write, so it’s no use communicating with writing…” Jusetsu turned her eyes to Kougyou, who shook her head and stared intently back at her. She was different from her lifeless self when she was lying down; her gaze was strong. “——Then we shall take her to Yamei Palace. Onkei, carry her.” After wrapping Kougyou in the thin bedding, Onkei lifted her in his arms. When they were about to take her outside, the eunuch rushed up to them. “You can’t just take her out of here.” “I am the Raven Consort. I am taking this person under my authority. If anyone complains, tell them to come to Yamei Palace.” Hearing the words Raven Consort, the eunuch backed away in shock. The Raven Consort was rumored to specialize in curses and killing curses. Even the eunuchs in charge of lighting the lanterns didn’t dare go near Yamei Palace. After leaving Sen’e House with Kougyou, Jusetsu hurried back to Yamei Palace. Yamei Palace didn’t employ any palace ladies, so there were plenty of empty rooms. They placed Kougyou in one of them, and Jusetsu prepared some hemp paper and a brush. Jiujiu grinded ink in an inkstone and placed it on the stand next to the bed. Kougyou sat up and took the brush. “A palace lady at Sen’e House taught me how to write.” Kougyou wrote in clumsy handwriting. “But if they knew I could write, they will surely kill me. That’s why I pretended I couldn’t write.” Jusetsu furrowed her brows at the word “kill.” “The servant was killed. However, killing an attendant would have been too conspicuous, so they cut out my tongue so I couldn’t speak.” By servant, she probably meant her own maidservant. It was written in the register that she had died from illness, but she was actually murdered? “I was made the attendant of another consort, and then they deliberately made up a charge for me and cut out my tongue as punishment.” Kougyou’s words were messy, as though her desire to write was rushing forward. She bit her lips, a frustrated look on her face. “…Who did such an act to you? Who exactly is going to kill you?” Kougyou’s hands were shaking. She took in a deep breath, and then continued writing. “The empress dowager.”

---

The empress dowager poisoned the Magpie Consort, Kougyou wrote. The Magpie Consort—the third-ranked consort. She was a young consort who was the daughter of a chief vassal. Apparently, she was pregnant at the time of her death. That incident was framed on Han-oujo. “It was because the Magpie Consort was pregnant. Her father wasn’t in the empress dowager’s faction. Han-oujo was charged with that crime. My maidservant was talked into it with money, and they had her plant euphorbia in the chest. I saw it happen. However,” Kougyou stopped her brush there. The tip of the brush wandered about in the air several times, but Kougyou bit her lip and lowered the brush. “I also did what the eunuch told me to do. He told me that they would kill my family. I let Han-oujo die without doing anything to help her.” Kougyou’s shoulders shook, and she stopped her brush again. “I learned to write so that I can at least let the truth be known one day. Since you have that earring, you must be Lady Han’s ally.” “Eh?” Kougyou raised her head. “Am I wrong?” Jusetsu didn’t know why she thought she was Han-oujo’s ally, but she explained that Koushun was the one who found the earring in the inner palace, and that a ghost was possessing it. Kougyou paled at the word “ghost.” “Is it Lady Han’s ghost?” “If this earring belonged to her, then that would be the case,” Jusetsu held out the earring in her hand. “The earring did belong to Lady Han. I remember it very well. At any rate, she only had one.” “Only one?” “Yes. There was only one, but even so, Niangniang always wore it.” Niangniang probably referred to Han-oujo. Kougyou had a distant look in her eyes as she remembered. “She told me about it once. She said that she gave the other earring to her betrothed back in her hometown.” “Betrothed…?” “Niangniang has been engaged to him since they were children, but her father, who was a civil official, forced her to enter the inner palace. Niangniang gave the earring to her betrothed and enter the palace. When she touched that earring, she seemed to recalling her betrothed. “Niangniang was not a bright and cheerful person, but she was kind. I was the daughter of a small noodle shop, but I was chosen to be a palace lady and entered the inner palace. Almost all the other palace ladies were the daughters of respectable families, but it was a difficult place for me to live because I was unable to read and write well, and I had no refinement. Unable to just watch, Niangniang made me her attendant. And yet…” Kougyou’s hand stopped. However, she seemed to have collected herself and continued to write. “One day, she gave the earring away to someone else.” “Gave it away?” “When she returned from the courtyard, she was no longer wearing the earring, so I thought she dropped it and asked her about it in shock. She laughed and said she gave it away to a crying child. Perhaps they had a difficult time in the inner palace. I’m sure that child knows Niangniang’s kindness. That she would never poison anyone. “That is why I thought that since you have that earring, you must have been that child or someone who knew her. If that’s the case, then you must be an ally who knows that Niangniang is innocent.” Kougyou put down the brush and let out a breath. Jusetsu placed her hand on her forehead. It was hot. Her fever might be going up. “Understood. Rest for the time being.” However, Kougyou took the brush again and hurriedly wrote something down. “Niangniang wasn’t only falsely accused. She was murdered. She was killed by eunuchs. Please punish them. I shall receive punishment as well.” After writing that, Kougyou lost consciousness. Jusetsu laid her down on the bed, wrote down “bupleurum root,” “goldthread,” and “crow dipper” on a leftover piece of paper, and then gave it to Onkei. “Tell the medical office to prepare only these herbs.” With the paper in hand, Onkei immediately exited the room. She had Jiujiu look after Kougyou and returned to her own room. She placed the earring on a table and stared at it. ——On top of being falsely accused, she was murdered… Was that why Han-oujo became a ghost and possessed that earring? Who was the person she gave her earring to? They were probably the one who dropped it. If they dropped it in the inner palace, that meant they were still here. Perhaps a long-serving palace lady or eunuch who had been here since the reign of the previous emperor——? Jusetsu pressed her hand to her temple. What should she do? In any case, she should tell Koushun immediately. Jusetsu stroked the jade of the earring. If she dispelled Han-oujo’s regrets, would she be satisfied and saved? Conversely, unless she did so, even a repose ceremony wouldn’t be able to save her soul. Jusetsu took the earring in her hand and shook it before her eyes.

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[lairofdragonagelore]

Western Approach: The Still Ruins,  Viridis Walk and Inner Sanctum

Tevinter researchers performed a magical experiment in this palace a long time ago. Their objective was to tap into the essence of the Fade, but in doing so, they created a breach through which demons started pouring out. A fail-safe built into their experiment was triggered and froze time within the place.

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

Viridis Walk

In Viridis Walk [meaning green walk] we can see a bit the structure of the Gallows from Kirkwall as a style: Main stairs, golems at the sides of the stairs, and iconography all around to cause some impact in the moral [I suspect many items around this place are for religious purposes, so their impact on the soul is more positive than the statues of tortured slaves in Kirkwall, after all this place was meant for Tevinter mages, not for slaves]. In fact, this place looks like a garden showing with pride the rich culture of Tevinter.

The garden has many statues and devices spread all over the place: the stone lid of Razikale Ceremony, the Horned warrior holding a sword, those diapason-like claw-like devices, golems, etc.

All of them have a symmetrical configuration in this garden. It must have been beautiful to see, green surrounded with these metallic and stone sculptures.  I think it would have looked similar to Razikale Reach.

On the chamber of the Inner Sanctum, we see once more two Ferelden Wyverns.

The Inner Sanctum is an isolated chamber which decoration has two strange things in addition to the Ferelden Wyverns:  it’s door is elven [it’s an Elven Ancient Shard-based door], as the ones we saw being used by Alexius in the future, or the Ancient Temples in Frostback Mountains or Forbidden Oasis. They can only be opened with shards. This means that this Still Ruin was built around an ancient elven temple or they just brought the door from an ancient temple they may have ransacked.

The second details is at the top the door frame: there is a Tevinter symbol hiding another: a sun that belongs to Free Marches design. So far I’ve noticed, we only see it when we use the Free Marches decoration in Skyhold.

This looks to me like a choice. Why would you bother to put an element of this nature when you can do your work easier by not putting it?

Anyway, so in this garden we have Non-Tevinter elements: a hidden Free Marches Sun, a pair of Ferelden Wyvern, and an Elven Ancient Shard-based door.

The elven door prevents us from entering immediately, so we need to collect the shards first.

By exploring the small rooms around Viridis Walk, we get more insight of the experiment that was performed centuries ago.  Research Notes explains how Helladius thinks that they can draw energy from the Fade, even though it may causes Breaches. The power in this manipulation seems to be important. We are also informed that this experiment uses blood “of six strong” ones. Sarpedon, opposed to this experiment, keeps casting doubts about it, and trying to delay it.

When we see the shape of the shards, we realise they are of the same nature than the ones we have been collecting to open the temple in the Forbidden Oasis. 

In another room of Viridis Walk, we find more elements of research, Tevinter paintings on the wall [exactly, the six-headed snake that seems to be related to the representation of Tevinter arcane research], and the Skull bud with sword. The reason why I think this statue belongs to Tevinter culture is because this place: Still Ruin shows all Tevinter design everywhere, and the only two statues that seem to be strange in this place are the Griffons at the entrance of the Hall of Silence and this one. We know the Venatori are the only group who had explored this ruin, but I don’t think they may have brought statues into it.  So these statues may have been here from the pre-blight time. It’s the strongest argument I have to connect this statue with Tevinter, sadly.

Once all shards are collected, we open the door of the chamber in the middle of Viridis Walk: The Inner Sanctum.

Inner Sanctum

Once we enter, we see the main chamber with a hole in the space and blood floating around it.

If we look down before approaching, we find a rug that belongs to Orlais. A rug with the symbol of the De Montfort family, also called the Montfort dynasty, a noble family from Orlais with ties to Empress Celene I. This family is not that old, so it’s strange to find this symbol here. A mere reuse of assets? If it were DA2 I would not doubt it, but in DAI they have a lot of items to use in all environments, and this ruin is in particular very detailed since there is a lot of Concept Art for this and Coravacus placed with a lot of care. To place this rug carelessly in the most important part of this ruin, in the moment of “truth”, seems unlikely. There is some intention in this.

The room is decorated with less conflicting elements: All Tevinter artefacts. These are presented in the Fade as “Temple of Dumat”, another artefact we can’t guess its function but it’s related to experiments that open access to the Fade.

There are some kind of vessels, that resembles the design of the urns used in DAO for many purposes, and one of them was to carry Andraste’s ashes.

For more details check Haven and the Temple of Andraste.

And finally, we reach to the object that has stopped the breach: this hole in space and time; clearly blood magic. I like to highlight that there are tendrils of blackness spreading out of the hole. They are floating as much as the blood around it. The artefact which is causing the time stop is this staff which has a skull. We also see a person lying dead at its base, the man who triggered this fail-safe when the experiment went out of control: Sarpedon. Behind all this, there is a Veilfile rune, which is not strange; we know Tevinters knew this art already.

At the hole’s base, beside the body, we find the note  Journal on Certain Experiments, in which we read Sarpedon, the only person who seems to have been against this experiment since the beginning, activates the security measure to preserve the Western Approach from the Breach, in a time when there were no ways to seal it.

Once we take the staff, the time-stop effect is cancelled and the bodies that have been kept in time disappear [probably as Ameridan said in the DLC, you can delay the pass of time but not escape it].  Rubble falls, bodies dies, and the breach, which has been frost in time, returns to its activity pouring new demons into the place.

When heading back to deal with the Breach, we find a desk almost covered in rubble where we can read a curious codex: Responsible Blood Magic , which dates from before the fifth Blight. I assume it must be something from the Venatori since the Still Ruin has been closed until now. It tells us about the dangers of blood magic from a Magister point of view, questioning how much good it has when it requires the death of good people. Not the usual opinion you read among Tevinters. This shows in -game what Dorian told us once: there have been always a group of magisters who were against blood magic from old times.

In one of the corners that usually are ignored, we find some minor loot and a rug with Templar symbols. I don’t know what to think about it. The most reasonable explanation is that this is where the Venatori were working or resting so they introduced several non-Tevinter elements to the scene [I assume this too because there is a sacrificial altar behind the rubble, a very Venatori element in most of their camps]. Because otherwise, it’s hard to explain this unless we reduce it to re-usage of assets, and I try to avoid it simply because in Art of Inquisition they keep telling us, over and over, that everything in this game has been thought and has a meaning and a tale behind it, so... I will go with that.

As we make our way back to the Breach, and seal it for good, we can see the effects of time returning to its normal way: there are no bodies, they all turned into ashes like Ameridan, and everything is in calm again. A ruin lost to time and decay from now on.

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore ]