#( I know what thunder feels like ↳ character study. ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keepswingin · 3 months ago

Text

⸻ LEFT BEHIND ⸻

pairing: caleb x reader

genre: angst, romance, hurt/comfort, canon compliant, caleb character study

w/c: 6.7k

summary: finally catching up, ever decides to take what they believe has always been theirs. caleb refuses to lose her again.

cw: kidnapping, scenes of violence, character death (not of main characters), mentions of past trauma, implied torture, implied medical experimentation

a/n: this has been finished for so long i was just stalling because i didn't feel like editing but then i figured i should post it so that it doesn't end up in the rotting wip pile xD hopefully everyone enjoys!

Ever takes you.

It's less climatic than it should be - an off night, a thundering sky, a wrong turn down an alley you've taken too many times before. Easy to track down, really, because you've gotten comfortable. It's a rule you know above all else, to always be on guard, to never stay in one spot for too long, especially now, when you're poking around in places you shouldn't be, when Caleb is the one you can't quite let go.

But a storm swirls overhead and you turn down that same alley. You watch your shadow flicker over the bricks, listen to the sound of your footsteps, one after another. You think about how it's odd that the association has been so quiet lately, when it very much seems like it shouldn't be, with everything happening at once, with everyone trying to get their hands on aether cores no one will ever truly understand.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the world around you.

You blink. Glance up at the sky. Watch grey clouds move fast above you, promising rain. When you look in front of you, you notice more shadows than before, growing closer. Thick coats bundled around black face masks and leather gloves, eyes that shine under the quickly fading sun. More than you can handle, even as your hand inches towards your waistband, where your gun awaits.

Panic doesn't push you into action quite yet, but there is a part of you that thinks you should bring your hunter watch to life, that if you ping your location someone would probably be there in minutes to investigate. But was it worth the risk of putting someone else in danger? Was it worth -

Something sharp pricks at your neck and all at once your world tilts on its side.

A strangled sound escapes you as you stumble forward a step, and then fall, unable to hold yourself upright. Your knees scrape the pavement as your vision wavers and then wanes, your heartbeat thudding hard in your ears. The figures in front of you grow closer and then blur into a mass of darkness and you have no choice but to close your eyes, unable to make a sound, unable to move.

A cold hand roughly grabs your chin and turns your head, holding it for a long moment before letting go. Thunder rumbles from above. You can barely think. "We've been looking for you," a voice whispers, close to your ear. "Finally found you."

As everything around you finally begins to fade, you can't help but think about Caleb.

You wonder if he'll miss you like you'll miss him.

Caleb sits in the living room of a house that feels far too big and watches as rain slides down the window. His phone sits abandoned on the coffee table in front of him, silent and dark. He wonders if she had forgotten they had dinner plans, but there's a part of him that thinks she would never forget.

The storm is bad. The wind is dangerous, and the lightning is deadly. Storms are always worse in Skyhaven, but it's something he's learned to weather, though it was easier still when she was by his side, or tucked under the blankets in a bed that was no longer his. He reaches for the phone and brings up his messages with her, staring at the unread words.

He types out another message. Clicks send.

The storm rages on.

"Something wrong, Colonel?"

Caleb startles, looking away from the window. He doesn't remember the last time he hadn't heard someone approach, and the thought itself isn't something he wants to dwell on. He straightens and turns towards the voice, facing an older man with various medals decorating the crest of his suit. Caleb pauses for a moment and stares, brows knitting together. He doesn't remember his man's face, doesn't remember ever seeing him before. It wasn't odd for Ever to throw in new recruits when they felt like it, but he could usually pick them out of a crowd like the sore thumbs they were. Whenever they dared to add researchers to the mix, or people who had been around since Ever's start, Caleb was usually able to pick them out too.

This man...this man is an oddity.

"Did you need something?" Caleb asks, voice firm, eyes giving a quick scan to the rest of the room. It's only the two of them, the rest of the control room empty. Today's a training day for most of the Fleet. He doesn't usually need to be here for days like this one, but he didn't have anywhere else to go.

He had called her earlier. He had called her last night. He had sent more texts than he would like to admit, and still, there was nothing but silence in return. Paranoia was starting to creep in from the edges of his mind. He was minutes away from making his way over to her apartment.

The older man doesn't bother to stand at attention. It bothers Caleb, makes him think of the man more as an insurgent than a fellow comrade. If he was from Ever, he must've been a newer model, one that didn't have to go through the same rigorous training as the rest. "No," the man drawls, eyes flickering up to Caleb's face. "Just checking in with you, sir."

Caleb bristles and turns back around. "Don't bother me with such trivial matters again." There's another storm brewing on the horizon. It's been days. He doesn't know how much longer he can wait. Anxiety curls at his insides like a snake around his ribcage. What if she's hurt? What if he's failing her by waiting?

"As you wish, Colonel," the man replies, eerily even.

When Caleb doesn't hear him move, he uses his Evol to throw the door open. Wood splitters as the handle pushes through the wall. He hopes the man flinches. A few seconds later, he listens to the man's fading footsteps.

Alone again, Caleb releases a shaky exhale. One hand comes up and runs through his hair.

What if it was his fault she was missing?

Caleb stands in the middle of her apartment and looks around at a place stuck in a moment of serenity.

The door is broken at the hinges and everything is perfectly in place. There are no signs of struggle, no signs that she's been home anytime recently. There is no takeout in the trash, no dishes in the sink, no laundry piled by the washer, no blankets askew on her bed. There is no signs of life, no signs that someone has lived within this apartment, and Caleb feels his shoulders begin to shake, his heart beating faster.

Nothing is packed away in suitcases. She didn't decide willingly to leave him. But there hasn't been any contact, and his calls go straight to voicemail, and his messages are delivered but unread so someone is looking at her phone, or too sentimental to destroy it. Or maybe that's apart of evidence of her grisly murder and Caleb is already far too late and she's already gone and he's done nothing but waste time because he was trying to better and it didn't get him anywhere -

Caleb collapses to the floor, chest heaving, vision blurring. He - He needs to calm down. If he doesn't calm down the chip, the chip will make him - he can't forget, not now, not ever, not when he's already wasted so much time. He needs to calm down, he needs...he needs her. He needs her because he doesn't quite have himself anymore.

His breath catches in his throat. He can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't just sit here and let the chip -

Pain in his chest. Pain in his head, pain shooting through an arm far from human.

It hurts. Everything hurts and the world blurs.

No, he begs, anything but this, anything but now -

Caleb awakens in the middle of the floor of an apartment he doesn't truly remember.

Slowly, he pulls himself upright, a dull ache deep in his chest, a headache forming in the crevices of his mind. He looks blearily around the room, takes in the furniture, the color palette that isn't as dark and dreary as his own home. There's a stuffed animal from a claw machine sitting between the couch pillows, just out of reach.

Caleb carefully climbs to his feet and makes his way over to the stuffed animal, picking it up and holding it close. It looks like it's supposed to be a fluffy white dog, but it's missing the right fluff. A stray thought enters his head, that it would look cuter with a colored collar around its neck, and then he freezes.

I got a collar with a bell. I put it on the cat.

His fingers curl tighter around the plushie.

If I had that kind of bell right now, I should make you wear it, right?

"Fuck," he whispers, bits and pieces coming back to him. It slips through his fingers like sand, even as he desperately tries to hold onto something. He could forget everything else, but he could never forget her. He was...he was wasting time, wasn't he? He was...in her apartment and here for a reason. He needed to -

He walks towards her bedroom, stuffed dog still clutched in hand and places it carefully on top of her pillows. Then he bends down and reaches under her bed, fingers gazing across the box he's looking for. He tugs it out and pops it open, digging carefully through old and new memories alike. When he reaches the bottom, he finds what he's looking for and pulls it free.

She would never leave without it. Even if she hated him to the ends of the world, he knows she still wouldn't leave it. It's a small ring fit for a child, crafted out of fraying string and beads. He had given it to her before they were old enough to know what promise rings meant, and he thinks that's what it was always meant to be.

Tucking the ring away and pushing the box back under the bed, next he moves to her closet, picking through the clothes hanging there. Every outfit is in place besides her hunter uniform, and a quick glance at her dresser tells him she was in a hurry to leave last time she was here, makeup sprawled across the desk.

This...it's a start. He can do something with a start.

"I'm going to find you," he whispers, a promise to himself and the empty home around him.

The Hunters Association is only helpful after he threatens further action through the Fleet.

He thinks he would feel bad about it any other time but he doesn't, not when it's nearing a week and he still has no trace of her. They offer him everything they know and it gives him her last mission, and her possible last location. Her last mission had something to do with abandoned research labs out on the outskirts of Linkon, though it didn't turn up anything new and she had returned to the base empty handed.

She was dismissed by six o'clock that night. Security cameras show her walking out the front doors of the association five minutes after. She decides to walk home and takes a left down the street. One of her co-workers tells him that's the path she usually takes. Caleb rewatches the footage three times, trying to find anything abnormal but there's nothing and he is still left with more questions than answers.

He thanks them for the cooperation and tells them to call him - not the Fleet, him - if they hear anything about her or from her. He feels the distrusting eyes of her Captain burn into his back as he leaves, but he doesn't really care about that either. All he cares about is finding her.

He retraces her steps, forwards, backwards, until his feet hurt and his body aches.

When he finds no evidence the hard way, he returns to the Fleet and checks the cameras. The Fleet has access to nearly all the public cameras in Linkon, though not everyone in the city needs to know that. He's able to find her on one camera after she leaves the association, closer to her apartment, but he loses her when she ducks into an alleyway off the beaten path.

The cameras on either end of the alley have no footage, disabled from within.

Caleb digs deeper, searching the access files. If cameras are shut down it's usually for construction or security of a political figure, not for some random hunter choosing to walk down an alley. It's suspicious and makes him uneasy, the further he searches, the less files he finds. It's like the system has been wiped from the inside out. He stares at an empty file screen, where logs of usernames are supposed to be, and finds only his name staring back at him.

He deletes himself from the system and makes a copy of the footage to a spare flash drive before deleting that too.

Not for the first time, he wonders if she was taken because of him, because he dragged her too close to the sun. He tried to keep her out of it, tried to make her keep her distance, but she was stubborn and he was helpless to stop her when she made up her mind, unless he took extreme measures.

Maybe they weren't extreme enough.

He tucks the flash drive in his pocket and turns to leave, only to be met by the face of the older man from earlier in the week standing in the doorway. He's missing some medals, ones Caleb saw pinned to his suit last time, and his suit isn't as prim and proper as it should be. There's something dark in his eyes that Caleb can see even from across the room.

"Colonel," the man says happily, taking a step forward. "I've been looking for you."

"Have you?" Caleb asks, crossing his arms. "Because I haven't seen you anywhere."

The man laughs, raspy echoes bouncing off the walls around them. "I think we both know why," he responds, shooting Caleb a crooked smile. "Missions come and go."

He shifts, and his uniform moves with him. Caleb's eyes catch the symbol sitting branded against the cusp of his collarbone. Things begin to fall into place as soon as he starts lining things up. He had tried to protect her and all he did was put her right in the line of fire. There was no telling if she was even still alive if...if they were the ones who took her, finally, after all this time.

"Were you sent to keep an eye on me?" Caleb asks, and it's hard to keep his voice steady when so many different emotions are shooting through him all at once. It's hard to keep focused when he's worried about her, the chip, the deceiving man in front of him, the organization responsible for plucking him for death and giving him a second chance as something much different. "You've done a shit job," he continues, meeting the man's eyes defiantly.

"But I've done my job," the man whispers. "She's long gone by now - "

The man chokes. He reaches up to his throat, scratching his fingernails against his skin desperately.

Caleb doesn't release him. He only steps forward, and with each step he takes, the harder it is for the man to breathe. "Where. Is. She?" Caleb demands, squeezing tighter and tighter. The man's lips are nearly blue by the time he reaches him, eyes holding a deadly intent. "I have no problem killing you," he spits dangerously. "It's up to you if you want to ever breathe again."

He watches as the man's widen and a horrible sound escapes him, as if he's trying to speak. Caleb scoffs and releases him, taking pleasure in the way the man's body crumples pathetically to the floor, He struggles to breathe in as much oxygen as his body will allow. Caleb crouches down and waits a moment before using his Evol again, grabbing the man by the chin and jerking his head so that he faces him.

"Where is she?"

"I - I don't know!" he rasps, still struggling to breathe. "They - They didn't tell me!"

Caleb chuckles darkly. "Don't lie to me." His Evol tightens. The man cries out in pain. Bloodied marks begin to peel at his chin.

"Wait, wait, wait! I'm - I swear I'm not lying, I'm not lying! They - They sent me here to keep an eye on you, to - to make sure you wouldn't do anything they didn't account for! They were afraid of - "

"Afraid of what?" he whispers, sick of the man's blubbering already. He tightens his grip even more, sick of the games. He'll kill him even without getting the answers he's looking for, he doesn't mind, not when he has a feeling this man is omitting more than he needs to be, especially with his life on the line.

The man reaches out and grabs at Caleb's wrist, fingernails digging into the seam of his suit. Caleb goes to shake him off, disgust rolling in his gut, but before he can a strangled sob spilts from the man's battered throat. He pauses, arm hovering in the air. A tear slips from the man's eye. He doubts it's because he's suddenly grown a conscious, especially not if he's part of their -

"You," he cries, pain straining the tone of his voice. "They're afraid of you."

Caleb leans back and releases him.

The man falls to the floor once more, curling around himself, gasping. The noises he makes are unfitting of one from Ever, and he can't help but wonder if they've stopped paying attention to the newer ones because they finally have her. Guilt begins to claw its way up his throat, nearly weighing him down. He tried to protect her, he told them she wasn't worth the time, that he was better, that he would always be better. He tried to stop them, to keep them from ever being able to reach her.

And now they were sending unfinished soldiers out to the frontline.

Maybe they were right to be scared of him.

"Did they say anything else?" Caleb's voice is deceptively calm. He returns to his full height and readjusts his glove, straightening out the wrinkles. The man coughs and sniffles, barely turning his head in the other's direction.

"No, nothing. Nothing, I swear on my life."

Caleb is still and silent for a long moment. "That's not much to swear on."

The man doesn't have time to react as the bullet is lodged between his eyes, and smoke swirls from the end of Caleb's pistol as he returns it back to his side. He reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against the flash drive, answers just out of reach.

It's a bad idea.

A horrible idea, if Caleb stops and actually thinks about it, but it's the best way for him to get answers, even if he has to play dumb to get them. The door ahead of him tugs open, revealing a face he knows all too well. Something close to fear shivers down his spine.

The Professor stares back at him, eyes crinkling at the corners once he realizes who it is standing in front of him. "Caleb," he says, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here at this hour?" Caleb keeps his hands locked behind his back, a picture of posture, even if his insides say otherwise. It takes everything within in to keep a steady, uncaring tone to his voice.

"I was curious about when the next round of testing was going to start."

The Professor regards Caleb with a cautious stare, shifting. "Is there a reason why you're so eager to begin?" he asks carefully, eyes flicking across Caleb as though they're trying to find something strange or out of place.

Caleb plays the part well as he flexes his arm slowly, rolling his wrist. "My arm has been a bit slow on the uptake. I was hoping we could make some adjustments alongside everything else."

It's the right thing to say. Immediately, Caleb can see the Professor relax, like he's provided a suitable enough reason to be poking around about future Ever projects, especially when this isn't a place Caleb enjoys visiting. The Professor allows his lips to almost twitch into a small smile.

"Unfortunately, the next round has been momentarily delayed. A few of our scientists have been redirected to a different project."

"Oh?" Caleb hums, acting clueless. "Did they finally figure out a better resource?"

There's a gleam in the Professor's eye that Caleb doesn't like. "Something like that. I'll let you know as soon as we're able to begin the next stages. For now, just keep things running smoothly, Caleb."

Caleb gives a short nod and a quick duck of his head as the Professor bids him goodnight, the door shutting quietly behind him. Caleb can't get out of the place fast enough, heart thumping hard as he makes it across the street and down the first alley he sees. He stops and allows himself to lean his forehead against the cold brick, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

At the very least, he confirmed what he thought.

Ever did have her and they were already pushing other projects back because they knew she was the key to the lock that they were looking for. At least the Professor told him what he needed to know, even if he didn't realize it.

He talked specifically about the scientists that worked with Caleb, which meant he knew which places to check.

Four weeks.

Four weeks since he's last seen her face, heard her voice, held her close.

He craved her touch like a man would water in a desert, and he didn't know how to combat that feeling. Instead, he resorts to the one thing he knows he can do. He hits the research labs he knows best, and when those turn up empty, he begins going for the ones Ever tries to hide. When he runs out of those that he knows, he interrogates the next scientist he comes across.

Blood sticking to his palms, he heads for the next round of labs.

Night bleeds into the horizon.

He's so close. He knows he is.

He didn't know this lab existed.

The building is small and tucked behind some other abandoned buildings, nearly trespassing into the N109 Zone, windows broken and brick decaying into dust. It was the last lab on the list and so far Caleb was doubtful there was anything inside besides the hollow remains of what used to be, but he makes his way into the building anyway, using the force of his weight to push through the front door.

It cracks and falls apart as he steps over the threshold. The room before him is bare and covered in discarded papers, weathered with age, some shredded into tiny pieces. Plaster peels from the walls and there's a hallway tucked behind a fallen bookshelf towards the back of the room that he steps over.

Following the hallway brings him to a second room, this one smaller than the first. Furniture sits askew, wood splintering and cushions thrown to the corner, ripped in two. Thick layers of dust cover empty picture frames barely hanging onto their hooks. There's no signs of life, no signs of anyone having touched this house in years and Caleb's hopes fall deep into the pit of his stomach.

Did the scientist lie to him? Broken and bleeding and alie slips from between his split lips?

Anger is a close second to the disappointment, the cocktail of emotions beginning to stir deep within him. He's failed again. He can't do anything worthwhile, he never has, and now she's probably dead and gone and he couldn't even protect her when it mattered the most. What was the point of him coming back if nothing changed? If he was still just as useless as he was all those years ago, ignored and thrown aside as they reached for her every single time -

Caleb's eyes abruptly catch on the far wall.

There's dust everywhere. There is not dust on the corner of a larger picture frame that sits awkwardly towards the bottom of the wall, just enough to be out of place.

He walks over to the frame and stares at it for a long moment, and it's then that he sees the traces of fingerprints, sticking to the remains of the frame. There's a small indent within the wood.

Ever was smart. Caleb always tried to be smarter.

The smell of antiseptic burns his nose the further into the lab he gets, the sound of his boots echoing throughout the empty rooms ahead of him. It's too bright, and the sounds of different machines whirring and clicking sets him on edge. He hasn't seen a single person in this place that grows larger and larger after every step he takes, and yet his heart tells him he's in the right place.

She's here. He knows she's here.

There's tables with restraints in most of the rooms. Equipment, clipboards, computers. Needles awaiting their hosts in one, scalpels and hard cloth in another. He quickens his pace, heart pounding. If he thinks too much about this, about where he is and where he has been, the chip will take control. He can't allow that to happen, not now, and he tries his best to keep his breathing steady as he finally makes it to the end of the hallway, only to be met by an eye reader beside the door.

It's barely a sound decision to break it, bits of metal and glass shattering to the ground but the door opens as he does, spitting broken error codes in an calm voice as he pushes his way through. Several shocked eyes turn to face him as he sees the massive room before him, wires curling from the ceiling down to troves of different devices, to empty tables awaiting test subjects, to -

To her, lying on a lone table in the middle of the room.

Caleb's world freezes once he sees her. He thinks his heart stops.

She's restrained by metal around her wrists, ankles, and forehead, keeping her from looking around. Her chest heaves with frantic breaths and a scientist stands above her with a scalpel in hand, blood dripping from the blade. There's needle marks trailing alongside her neck, cuts across her arm, a gash along the curve of muscle in her leg, poorly healing, wrapped in bruising of purple and yellow. She's still in her hunter outfit, though it barely hangs onto her body, already so malnourished and small and if Caleb didn't know her like another side to his heart, he wouldn't know who he was looking at.

There's six scientists in room. The one standing above her goes to speak but Caleb throws him back with his Evol before he can get any words out, his back hitting the far wall with a loud crack of bone. He doesn't have a chance to scream but one of the other scientists does, scrambling to run, the others attempting to follow.

Caleb pulls out his pistol and takes aim, exhaling.

He blinks away what he thinks might be tears before holding the far door they all run to in place with his Evol, listening to the growing sound of their distraught cries as they look back at him.

Before everything, before this, maybe he would have felt something. Guilt, horror, disgust. But he is what they all fear, and this is clear in a way it has never been before as he sees the way they pull at the door like they can make it move, like they can change the outcome that's already been foretold. As they look at him like a monster, Caleb knows there was never a chance that he wasn't, not when it came to those he loved.

He shoots them one by one in quick succession before lowering his gun. Their bodies are piled on top of each other, motionless and silent, a scene out of a horror movie neither of them could ever finish when they were younger.

He pockets his weapon and turns back to where she's been abandoned, running over to her side.

It's worse up close. An Evol suppressor sits locked around her neck, skin underneath rubbed raw from struggling. Her chest is a mess of open wounds, some festering and others still bleeding, her skin mangled and messy. Caleb struggles to keep the chip from taking him away right then and there, heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears. His eyes drag back up to meet her own, taking in her sunken cheeks, her pained eyes, the small cut below her lip.

With a shaking hand he reaches down and wipes his thumb across the cut, wiping the blood away. She flinches with the motion, even as her eyes stay locked with his, and he freezes, unsure what to do next. He wants nothing more than to hold her and never let go, to take all her pain and make it his, to stitch up the wounds and drag the needle along his own skin instead - anything to make it so that she doesn't look how she does now, like the life's been drained out of her, frail and scared and tiny even though she's always been anything but.

His lips almost tremble. He tries to say her name, to whisper it like a prayer that was never answered, but he finds that nothing comes out, that he is stuck standing over her with his hands half raised and useless when she needs him most. He couldn't protect her then, so how could he protect her now? Offer her comfort when his touch was something she couldn't even bear, broken and bleeding and all his fault?

He keeps his gaze on her as he uses his Evol to carefully dislodge the restraints before leaning over and removing them one by one. She flinches with every movement, each clatter of the metal as he throws it aside, fingers shaking by the time he reaches the suppressor. He's overly careful to keep space between them as he leans in further, not wanting to box her in, unable to get a good enough look and wanting to be sure of the angle before he gently pulls it from around her neck, the device beeping as it's deactivated.

It drops the floor unceremoniously. A part of him wants to use his Evol to snap it to pieces and another part of him wants to rip everything in this lab apart, to take whatever data they've gathered and destroy it once and for all, but no part of him wants to leave her.

He swallows and inches closer to her, one hand gingerly slipping under the curve of her back. He tries not to react to her flinch, but he's sure his face doesn't hide the emotions he feels well. "You're safe now," he whispers, nearly desperate. "I'm going to help you sit up. One, two - "

He pulls her up as gently as possible, other hand coming to a rest on the side of her waist, one of the only uninjured parts of her. His touch lingers as she cries out and squeezes her eyes shut from what he's sure is pure agony on her wounds, and wants nothing more than to take the sound away and replace it with something else.

He knows he should let go of her. He knows he should. But he can't.

He's so lost in thought that he doesn't notice as she slowly lifts her hand up and then rests it on his cheek. He grows still, eyes flickering back to her own. A tear slips down her cheek. And then another. "Caleb?" she whispers, and he - he remembers the last time she sounded like this, broken and tiny and crying and nothing but a failed experiment to everyone around them and - and -

Caleb nearly breaks himself when her other hand grapples for him, fingers tangling around the chain of his necklace. She looks down at the necklace and then back up at him, squeezing the pendant in a tightly closed fist full of new scars, and Caleb can't take it any longer.

He surges forward, arms wrapping around her, closing the distance between them until they're breathing the same air, feeling the beat of each other's heartbeats. A sob rattles deep in Caleb's chest when she starts to cry, and he squeezes her tighter, her arms sliding around him, his fingers knotting in her hair.

"This is my fault," she whispers unbidden, words muffled into the cusp of his shoulder. Caleb tucks himself closer, pressing soft kisses to the skin he can reach, shaking his head.

"No," Caleb murmurs, voice choking on another sob. "Not your fault." He's barely able to form sentences, let alone words, body shuddering with the force of emotions he struggles to keep under control. "Never your fault." A tear breaks free, slipping against her skin. "I'm sorry."

She hiccups, sniffles. He thinks maybe it could've been a laugh, if only they were somewhere else.

"You found me, Caleb," she says. "You found me."

"Always," he breathes, kissing her again. Her fingers dig into the cloth of his jacket, desperate to find skin and hold on tight. Caleb shifts slightly, nearly pulling her off of the table and into his arms but stopping when her breath hitches. Another kiss and he's tugging at her again, waiting until he feels her hold grow tighter before attempting to pick her up, her arms wrapped around him like it's where she's always belonged. He slides a careful hand down her back before settling his hold on her waist, the other under her knees, tight, secure. Safe. "Let's go home," he says, voice nearly catching and breaking.

He feels her nod against him.

And he finally takes her home.

You find that you like sleeping with the lights on, after.

You know it's stupid, really, when there's so many worse things than the dark, but it scares you in a way it never did before, fear curling around your insides until it was the only emotion you knew. You hated it, hated feeling so weak, hated feeling so stupid walking over to the light on the far side of the living room and flicking it on like clockwork every night at six o'clock sharp, always before the sun disappeared under the horizon.

Tonight is the same as any other, your finger pressing against the light switch before you breathe a small sigh of relief and return to the couch, watching idly as the weatherman tells you that it's going to storm all week, another thing you didn't fare too well with anymore.

It made it hard to be in Skyhaven, the storms. They were so, so loud up there, closer to the clouds. It reminded you of that lab, of the echo every single instrument made, of the way some machines made you scream and others made you beg. It's all just too much and for a long moment, you're back there, and there's thunder outside and you are trapped on a table with a scalpel above you and no way out -

The front door opens and closes.

Footsteps echo, growing closer and closer to you. You barely notice, trying to bring yourself back from a place you never want to revisit, and then there's a hand sliding across your back, squeezing tightly at your shoulder. Warm breath ghosts across your ear. "Missed you, pipsqueak," Caleb whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek and lingering for a long second before pulling away, ruffling your hair as he goes. "I'll start dinner."

You wait for his footsteps to fade before turning and watching as he starts opening cabinets and pulling out ingredients, stacking them in a neat pile on the counter, followed by pans and lids. He fills a pot with water and places it on the farthest burner, flicking on the stove. When he turns again, his eyes catch your own and he slows to a stop, watching you.

He's still in uniform. His hat is pristine and perfectly in place. He's preparing to make you dinner, as though he knows that your head isn't in the right place tonight. He looks at you like he already knows everything you could say. He's hard lines to soft edges that never quite disappeared, and you find yourself moving off the couch and towards him.

He waits until you're close enough before opening his arms and wrapping you into a hug, reading your mind once more. You exhale and the sound shudders through you. The twisting of your gut and shadows of your mind go with it.

Caleb presses a kiss to your hair. He waits for you to speak first and for a long moment you simply follow the rise and fall of his chest. Words swell in your chest before they finally decide to spill from you, whispering across the silence between you.

"I think I love you."

The water in the pot begins to boil, soft pops echoing from the stove. A soft chuckle rumbles through Caleb's chest. One of his hands intertwines with your own. "Popping the question so soon, pipsqueak?" he jokes quietly, and you can't help but roll your eyes, gently shoving him with your shoulder. He holds onto you tighter in retaliation.

"I'm serious," you say.

"So am I," he returns, and when you turn your head to look at him, he's smiling down at you like you're the sun. "I've always wanted to spend the rest of my life with you." A pause. His eyes, staring right through you. "I love you too."

You feel something inside you start to mend with his words. The sounds of the past are eased away with the sound of his voice, the bitter cold biting at you washed away by warmth. His words settle deep in your chest and easily make a home where you thought only an empty chasm remained.

You close the distance between you, your lips meeting his. He sinks into you, smiling, and you pull him closer, kiss him deeper. You think this is what love must feel like, what it must taste like, what it must look like. You think this is what devotion is, what your hopes and dreams are, what you've been missing for what feels like your entire life.

You think this is home, and that it's never once been a place, because it's always been a person.

It's always been him.

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #lads caleb #lads x reader #lads caleb x mc #lads caleb x reader #lnds #caleb love and deepspace #caleb angst #lads mc #lnds caleb #lads angst #love and deepsace fanfic #lads fanfic #keepswingin writes #mine

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captain-joongz · 4 months ago

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Prove your heart; Dragonheart ch.3

Pairing: OT7 dragon!BTS x knightess!reader

Genre: dragon rider AU, high fantasy, soulmate adjacent, slight enemies to lovers (if you squint), angst, fluff and humour, eventual smut

Chapter summary: The ceremony happens, and since then it just seems like one crisis after another. How much can one human possibly bear?

Word count: cca 26.7k words

Warnings: angsttttt, i'd say near death experience adjacent, drowning, violence, huge emotional turmoil, some hostility and mistrust, the emperor being a weirdo, forced proximity kinda??, i hope that's all

Series masterlist | Previous Part | Next part

Lore | Dictionary | Character studies

A/N: welcome!! it's been a while, i know, but i bring a whole new beast of a chapter! this just kept getting longer and longer haha, hope you enjoy <3 pace is about to pick up from here on out!

If Jungkook wasn’t nervously fidgeting right beside me, I’d feel a lot more embarrassed for the way my fingers endlessly toyed with the silk fabric of my uniform, stretching and smoothing it out, shifting the belt around or righting the jade beads as they swung about my hip. I felt the wild thrum of my heartbeat in my ribcage, the palms of my hands growing clammy as the distant buzz of a banquet roared in the background.

I looked to the young dragon again, and for all his nerves and shifting from foot to foot, the moment he sensed my eyes on him he smiled wide, warmness around him that calmed me a little.

The room behind the wall quietened before a loud chorus of “greetings to our empire” sounded through so fiercely I almost felt the ground shake with the echo. My heart slowed before jumping up into even a faster beat, and I locked my knees to keep me standing upright.

The emperor has arrived. The ritual would soon begin.

The murmurs of other first-years and their chosen bonds caught up to me and I was suddenly aware of Hwa-young’s cheery voice and the quiet rumble of her dragoness Yong, an answering giggle from Siwoo who came in with a tall muscled dragon that didn’t speak much, but had a gentle aura around him. The other three stood a little away from us, stone-faced and firm, their own chosen dragons standing next to them stiffly.

For all of them, life would change tonight, with the ceremony taking place.

The few days before went by almost a little too quickly, almost like it was merely hours since I left the dragons’ house after sitting through an awkward and chillingly quiet meal, the unfriendly gazes drilling into me every time I chose to speak or to stay silent, as if I could never make the right choice. Jungkook either felt oblivious to the tension or naively thought it would pass, because he never floundered by my side, channelling warm energy almost as if pretending everything was okay between the eight of us. As if I wasn’t sitting right next to him, wishing I was anywhere else. Or anyone else.

Maybe it wouldn’t make it a smooth ride, but it would definitely be easier.

The thunder has been quiet, keeping out of our way when I arrived to the banquet hall, but knowing they were present put even more stress onto my shoulders, and I tried to not dig too deeply into how they must be feeling and what they possibly thought of this. Actually, I might even take a page from their book and avoid looking to them all-together, lest I buckle under the strength of the dislike displayed there.

The rush of noise from the hall signalled that the emperor has most likely just finished whatever dreary nonsense he was going on about. From what I remembered from the ceremonies I witnessed before, now they would feast and wait for us to get ready for the ritual.

The bonding ceremony had to take place under the naked sky, on a full moon when there was a spike in the natural magickal energy in the air. Dragons, as beings of nature, drew their life-force and their magick from their connection to such phenomena – whether lunar or solar, whether sea or winds, those forces could be harnessed and turned to their own.

Bonding occurrences, whether platonic or romantic, often took place during such important spikes in the natural flow of energy and this one was no exception – even though now it happened under the imperial supervision and not as organically as it used to, with only the elders and Authorities around to bless the union.

There was a sanctuary for these occurrences, it was built as soon as the need for empire sanctioned bondings arose – it was a little roofless gazebo, all white stone and spindly spires covered in carved vines and blooms, as white and cold as the stone, with a little altar right at the centre. It stood right at the edge of the black cliff in one corner of the royal gardens, hanging over the wild sea beneath the castle and overlooking the dark horizon, almost as an omen more than a sacred place.

I wasn’t very well versed in the old dragon lore, and humans weren’t privy to information about such intimate rituals, therefore I didn’t have much of an idea about how the old ceremony used to look like, though I was pretty sure it wasn’t as pompous or procedural as it was today.

Mating bonds were a whole another thing, and those involved much more… intimate affairs, though by the logic we knew of old dragon rituals, even those took place out in the nature, where the moon or the sun could grace the union with its light.

A thunderous clap broke me out of my zoning out just as someone was tugging on my uniform, pulling me away from the little corner where I was having my little spiral.

Hwa-young’s smile appeared light, though I could see the slight strain on her face. Her own nerves must have been eating her from the inside, the weight of carrying a forbidden surname and yet participating in such a public display was no ordinary feat. Yet, she carried herself no less cheerful, and I had to admire the strength of her spirit for that. In my own little awkward gesture of support I patted her shoulder lightly. Her smile melted slightly, showing a tad more relief, and then she was off towards her dragoness friend.

Wordlessly I followed after her, feeling Jungkook trailing behind me just from the sheer aura he exuded. We had a very different path to follow – whereas the emperor and the attendees dined and drank wine before slowly making their way over to the ceremonial place, we had to cleanse ourselves before the bonding.

When I walked out the little side-room, a woman was standing there. I recognised her immediately upon seeing her face, and how could I not – when she was one of the most recognisable faces of this unit, and one of the most vocal supporters of the empire (though you really couldn’t be anything else, if you wanted to be of high standing). Or at least she appeared so – I highly doubted my father truly cared for the empire or the man running it either, but the violence served his own goals too well not to keep his cushy place at the top.

At the castle one never knew whether they spoke to someone opportunistic or just truly brain-washed – that’s why I hated it here so much. It all felt like one never-ending charade.

General Yan was truly no different. It was hard to see what she thought and what opinions she truly held, but everyone knew of the appetite for blood this woman held. And her dragoness was just as brutal.

Their cruelty was a tale that spread far and wide, and drew distaste even from other supporters of the emperor who found them needlessly barbaric. I myself was a witness to how other lords and madams reacted to their savagery and boundless support of any war.

As long as they could slaughter indiscriminately, they were in favour. The emperor loved her, in a way a cruel master does a particularly rabid dog.

Now standing face to face with her, with her attention drawn to us as her new disciples, I got the chance to take a proper look at her.

She was an older woman, maybe in her late fifties – I imagined she must have been around the same age as my father, maybe they could have even attended the Academy in the same year (it would certainly explain their strong dislike of each other). Her hair was very dark grey, as if the black pigment simply refused to give in to time. She was also quite small and a little stout, though her muscle and strength were visible.

Tonight she stood in front of us without her dragoness, but she was no doubt at the banquet drinking with others and waiting for the ceremony to happen.

The general didn’t speak for quite a while, only looked down on us, even with us all taller than her, her appraising gaze sharp and judging. I saw a spark of true joy as she took in Peacock, and I knew those two would simply love each other. They had the disposition for each other.

“Follow me,” were her first words, her voice brittle and cold, and then she was walking away without a single glance back.

I let the other five pairs go first, wanting to put distance between me and the woman, and not wanting to get myself into the way of some other more ambitious students eager to win her approval as soon out of the gates as possible. Though minutely I did wonder how exactly my father planned on pushing me through when the very woman who led this unit seemed to be affiliated with his opposition.

That would be amusing to watch yet.

Jungkook kept quiet by my side, which was somewhat unusual for him, but I couldn’t blame him, not with the oppressive aura that hung over us. He too must have been out of his element here, with his age, getting his first rider, and with his hyungs all away from him in another room, this was as unknown to him as it was to us. Though I imagined he probably got the rundown of the ritual from his other more experienced mates, unlike me.

All I knew was that my body and soul would come out different, connected to my dragon in a way that would make me a little more than simply human. Altered senses, heightened perception and the ability to speak telepathically with your dragon were some I was sure of, but the full extent, the full scope – that continued to escape me.

We walked in silence for a little while, climbing down staircases lower and lower until smooth bricks turned into hard black stone only roughly chiselled into shapes of walls. I’ve never been this deep into the castle, but seeing all that dark and damp, it wasn’t much to desire.

The room where we were led ended up being a high-ceilinged cave-like space with a single stone basin filled to the brim with water. The floor was smoothed over, carved into the resemblance of stone tiles, and the basin stood perfectly in the middle, a few steps above the room.

To my surprise, the general’s dragoness stood there next to it, expressionless but every bit regal and proud, as always.

Ha-rin was one of the dragons that found joy and purpose in serving the empire – after all, every race had their fair share of bloodthirsty and cruel beasts, and dragons were no exception. She was a born warrior, and her poisonous smoke and acidic vomit made her a formidable and nigh unbeatable force. She was one of those dragons that posed considerable risk even to her own kin, which made her just as power-hungry and conceited as humans could get, which in turn served to raise her higher and higher until she climbed to the very top of the dragon food chain.

I imagined that had she been free, she’d have most probably gone against her own brothers and sisters anyway. She’d have probably gone against anyone, to be perfectly honest. She just had that feel about her.

I wondered how such a prideful woman wasn’t torn up about being a slave to a lesser being like humans were (in some dragons’ eyes anyway). Those two must have been incredibly in sync for this to not have been a problem.

General Yan swiftly walked up those few marble stairs and stood next to her partner, both of them standing by the stone basin filled to the brim. We naturally lined up underneath it, all silent and holding our breaths, waiting for the woman to start addressing us, to give us instructions.

Her eyes once again slid across all of us, cold stare taking us in and calculating, wondering. Then she sighed, which didn’t seem very good.

“You are here to cleanse yourselves,” she spoke suddenly, gesturing towards the water, “these waters are blessed by the High Priest, and with his blessing comes the blessing of the Moon herself.”

The water sparkled as if littered with countless tiny stars, one moment deep blue, one moment black, one moment almost silver, ever changing and never the same – and my treacherous mind escaped to Jimin, to his slick hair and his face littered with silvery shimmering scales, the way his movements were as fluid and smooth as the surface of the blessed water when disturbed by the general’s hands. As the sight transfixed me, I could almost see the elegant swing of his arms and hands, the shimmer of his smooth golden skin- I wondered if I’d ever be able to see the graceful arch of his all-powerful wings.

“Once cleansed, you will don ceremonial robes and the time will come to go take the vows,” her sharp voice broke me out of the sudden forbidden turn I took, and with a bit of a start I banished the thoughts of the dragon that had no business floating around my head from my mind.

Emperor’s ominous words from when he summoned me that morning to ask whether I was looking forward to the ceremony also still floated around my mind, the “things will change now for you” spoken in an almost mischievously teasing voice, until I could taste the appetite for suffering in him and shuddered.

First pair begun climbing the stairs towards the General. I felt Jungkook’s hand nervously sneaking in to clutch onto my sleeve.

I watched breathless as the dark-haired young man whose name I haven’t learnt yet reached the stone tub, and for the first time I saw his face turn with the evident traces of uncertainty and unease. The older woman gestured for him to kneel down with a swift movement of her two fingers, and as soon as he was chest level with the water, her hand slowly made its way into his dark suede hair. I only had a split second to register the way she gripped before his head was yanked down, pushed into the little basin chest deep.

There were several gasps of shock between us, but none dared to move, so we all just stood there and watched as he started to struggle, body jerking and arms wildly pushing at the stone, attempting to force his head back up.

The woman standing over him remained expressionless, but I saw the little pleased curl to her lips as she chided him to stay still.

“The less you struggle, the sooner it will be over,” her cold words rang another distinct pang of pure horror through our hearts, the statement just ambiguous and ominous enough to have any kind of meaning.

To the struggling boy it made no difference, she could have just as been speaking in tongues. His body struggled, jerked around with mighty force, but the older woman held stead-fast, not even breaking sweat over his frenzied movements.

As it kept going, slowly his resistance begun losing its strength, and with creeping dread I watched as his hands helplessly slipped around on the polished stone, wet with all the water splashing around. His fingers flexed on the rim, then unflexed again, and then slowly started going slack.

I chanced a look around and saw Hwa-young’s and Siwoo’s face painted with something very similar to what I felt. Jungkook seemed just as disturbed as well, clammy fingers slipping on the silk of my black sleeve. The other dragons watched on with a solemn kind of resolution, and I realised they had likely gone through this before, most probably even several times.

Peacock and the blonde man stood to the side, and this was the most relaxed I’d seen them since we walked into that little back-room and waited for the banquet to start, even though they kept their faces carefully in check.

Finally the hold the general had on the black-haired boy’s head slackened and his chest swung upwards, head fighting to break the surface and take in a long shuddering breath. His weakened form leaned on the stone, open mouth gaping to get in as much air as possible.

He didn’t get much time to catch his bearings though, as the general already gestured for his chosen dragoness to kneel, and with cold eyes pierced the man until he got the hint and moved away, making space for the other person.

I caught a glimpse of the basin as they changed positions, and to my surprise the water was once more filled to the brim, as if a person hasn’t almost drowned there just moments ago, the surface once more calm and almost inviting. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost call the waters expecting.

Once the dragoness was in position, this time Ha-rin took it upon herself to ‘cleanse’ her, roughly gripping her hair and pushing her down with almost reckless abandon. I dreaded the moment she’d get a go at Jungkook, and by the nervous inhale by my side, the dragon was most likely thinking much the same.

Unlike her knight, the dragoness stayed perfectly still, only her hands tensing up into fists and unfurling again, knuckles white as her shoulders twitched with suppressing the survival instinct begging her to fight for some air.

Ha-rin pushed her around a little, her face pinched tight into a displeased frown – clearly disappointed there wasn’t more struggle, but it seemed that this dragoness has gone through this before. Her rider stood by and watched on with barely concealed terror written onto his red and still wet face, the darkness in his eyes reflecting just how shaken he was after his sudden brush with death.

Once the dragoness stayed stubbornly still and Ha-rin released her not long after, a sour expression on her face, it became quite clear that the earlier line about not struggling too much wasn’t for any ceremonial reasons – quite simply, if you didn’t struggle, it wasn’t fun for them.

I felt disgust coil around the tightly woven fear in my stomach, the unpleasant concoction of emotions making my hands tremble and shaking me through with uneven breaths.

The first duo was quickly sent off their way, the once cocky man now staring off onto the floor, eyes wild and unseeing. I saw the shakiness of his own hands, and I couldn’t blame him, even through the visceral dislike I held towards him.

The next two pairs were over in a flash it seemed – the blonde held steadily, though even he couldn’t stop himself from gripping the rim of the tub, as if to remind himself to give over easily and go with the motion of the waters as they splashed around him.

When it came to be Peacock’s turn, to all of our surprise, his head got barely held down, and he emerged cool and smirking, like this whole thing was barely an inconvenience to him. I held back my expression of pure repulsion, but thankfully Hwa-young didn’t feel the need to grant him such politeness, and the glare he got from her was enough to turn his face back to steel, though a note of self-assuredness stayed.

I filed the information away for later – one never knew when it could become useful, after all.

As soon as Peacock and his dragon were out of the way, Siwoo dutifully stepped up. Though he looked back towards us with fearful eyes, he held better than anyone yet, not even twitching under the pressure of the general’s hand, fingers balled into a fist and no doubt biting into the skin of his palms. I saw as she momentarily pushed harder, swaying the boy and dunking him further in, but he never broke.

When he emerged, it was with a glint of pride, and I had to respect him for the twitch of General’s face when she gazed upon him to send him away.

But then Hwa-young was next and the queasy feeling returned – because if she’d feel entitled to torture someone, it would be her. And I really didn’t want to witness that.

She climbed the stairs confident enough, and didn’t dignify the older woman with much anything – walked by quickly and knelt before the general had the chance to gesture for her – and I could see already Yan didn’t like that one bit.

Seeing Hwa get ‘cleansed’ was an actual ordeal of will and self-control. She tried her best to not panic, but it was obvious the moment she got submerged that the force of the hand surprised her and sent her into frenzy. I watched on as she desperately tried to keep her cool, but the longer she stayed, the more it took of her until her hands were desperately pushing against cold stone. Her back was tense and her knees locked on the hard ground, but she held on.

Just when I thought I couldn’t handle watching anymore, she was let go and emerged quickly, taking in quick loud breaths in between wracking coughs that sent her entire body jerking. And then Yong was there, holding a warm supporting hand to her shoulder and letting her lean onto her hip.

I felt myself untense as well, as soon as I saw how Hwa leant into the touch, how her muscles immediately gave up the fight for life and recognised safety again, leaving the girl hanging on limply and balancing on shaky beat-up knees.

She didn’t stand again for Yong’s turn, instead kneeling by the basin as well and watching how her dragoness took the humiliation with grace, holding so perfectly still you’d think she wasn’t even constricted under the water. It was obvious Ha-rin lost interest in her rather quickly and released her, and Yong broke the surface of the water like she was simply taking a shower, not even breaking the metaphorical sweat, and I marvelled at her briefly. And wondered – what exactly were Yong’s powers? Was this by chance related to them?

But then time for pondering was over, because Hwa was giving me an encouraging smile tinged with a taste of fear as she left the platform, and I felt the resolute tug of Jungkook setting on his way up the marble stairs.

Woodenly I followed after him, barely paying attention to anything else in the room except for the thrumming beat of my own heart. The walk up was terrifyingly short – the three steps were over in a flash, and before I knew I was faced with General Yan and her cruel smirk. She hasn’t looked this pleased until now, and a bad feeling sat into the pit of my stomach.

I knelt almost on instinct, after seeing the others do it so many times it just felt like the natural progression once I got to the top of the platform. I felt the tug on my sleeve as Jungkook’s fingers slipped free with my movement and he shifted to the side, but I knew his gaze was still firmly planted onto me.

I wanted to look towards him as well, but the calm waters welcomed me, the translucence drawing me in and overwhelming me with that strange eagerness, as if they couldn’t wait to have me choking on them and drowning in them. It sent a shiver through me and I instinctively tried to pull away, yet found myself frozen to the spot.

When rough fingers tangled into my hair, I almost startled at the suddenness, losing sight of the woman and not keeping up with her movements. I took a deep breath in just as the pain of someone yanking my hair spread through me and the world tilted, and then there was nothing but wet all-consuming darkness and a distinct lack of air.

It was hard to keep track of time down here, but I thought quite well of myself in those first few moments. I felt the need to fight and run rush through my body, felt my limbs jerk as the moment of panic took over, but then I willed myself calm and focused on counting the seconds.

But even as I desperately tried to keep count, the time slipped away and melted all into one long string, and when air started running out, suddenly everything felt both too slow and too fast, taking too long and going by too quickly, and I wanted to scream – scream out how it’s already been just as long as the others, that I deserved to get pulled out – but nothing but more darkness greeted me and for the first time I opened my eyes.

There was nothing to see in that dark cold basin – no light penetrated there, as if I was at the bottom of the ocean – and the water did kind of feel endless. It certainly was quite all-encompassing, in a way that left my throat tight with panic as its needy little fingers tried to pry my lips apart to steal the last of the air I had in my lungs.

The realisation that I ran out of breath kicked me like a horse, and I jerked – fully jerked, with my whole body, even as I tried to rationalise that I’d be pulled out soon.

Just as the thought managed to calm my beating heart slightly, I felt the yank on my hair dragging my head up. Filling my heart with hope. Right before I got plunged even deeper, until I felt the edge of the stone tub cutting into my ribs painfully. That was when panic truly took over.

I pushed against the hand, but felt it flex as its grip hardened, and fighting against it was almost like trying to break a wall with your bare hands. Blindly and in panic I felt along the smooth stone, trying to find anything to hold on to so that I could get a bit of leverage.

My body revolted, moving in a one big wave and trying to jerk away from the emotionless appendage, but my heels slipped on the damp marble and I just ended up bashing against the side of the tub, hurting myself even more and gasping out the last of the dying breath I held.

Water rushed in immediately and everything in me was overridden with pure fear of death so strong I could physically feel the adrenaline pump through my veins, but every twitch, every hopeless attempt brought me closer to the edge of my consciousness.

I tried to cry out, but everything was drowned out in the darkness and I barely saw anything. Something in me shouted that I was about to lose my life, my lungs screaming in pain about to burst, the punishing migraine destroying any sane thought I had until nothing but fear was left and the pure unadulterated hopelessness of the endeavour, until it was burned into my aching bones and I knew there was no coming out of this tub and – and then, a caress.

Like flipping a switch, the hungry devouring beast the water was suddenly changed into soft hands and fingers, pushing around and against my skin and cooling the heat of panic down. The fight drained from me, and I suddenly understood – the very first rider that went through this, I understood the moment his fingers slackened, the moment he lost the grip on the tub and gave in – I understood.

‘Water isn’t your enemy, child. You have been blessed by a creature of the sea. Trust it. Trust it.’

The soft feminine murmurs floated around my head, simultaneously coming in from the outside and sounding out from the inside, meshing together, and for the second time that evening Jimin’s face surfaced in the mirror of my mind and calm washed over me.

I was just about to open my mouth to speak back when suddenly I was dragged back up and instead of water air suddenly choked me and sent me into a fit of wheezing coughs. The freezing cold liquid streamed out of my mouth, pushed out of my lungs when I took a first breath in what felt like forever. Everything was hazy and my head spun, staticky fuzz crackling at the edges of my vision while I tried to make sense of where I was.

Slowly everything came back to me, and I realised I was being held by a panicking Jungkook who was desperately trying to get my attention – I registered his and Hwa-young’s voices all the way in the back of my mind while everything was still consumed by hum of blood rushing through my ears. With my hands still weak and uncoordinated, all I managed to do was pat at his shoulder to signal that I was okay, and reluctantly he let me sink down to the floor as I still attempted to fully catch my breath.

I was soaked from head to toe, most probably from the way I thrashed around, and the platform was all wet too. I laid there in the puddle and watched Jungkook gaze at me with fear, all the while the general’s dragoness kept repeating something with an angry expression on her face. I couldn’t hear, I barely even saw, but I figured she probably wanted Jungkook to take the spot to go through the cleansing too.

With the last threads of strength I found in myself I heaved myself up to my knees and shuffled to the side, leaving a nice spot for Jungkook to situate himself in. He was already on his knees from when he dived down to catch me, so he only hesitantly moved a few steps, eyes flicking between my half-dead form and the cruel being about to drown him in sacred waters.

When his head got submerged, I saw the way he jerked, just like I did from the shock of the rough movement, and without thinking I reached for his hand. I squeezed, hard enough to hurt, until I felt him squeeze back and his form relaxed slightly. I leant down on the tub, half lying on it with my hair grazing the water, and waited for him to come up.

And just like the general attempted to do to me, I saw Ha-rin slightly pull him up before plunging him even harder and deeper, just when he’d be about to run out of breath – but Jungkook was different. His hand left mine and quickly grabbed onto the edge of the tub, and when he braced and pushed up – I saw how Ha-rin’s arm clearly buckled, the self-assured expression slipping to a moment of shock and alarm, before she let go and Jungkook emerged with a fiery glint in his eyes.

I almost didn’t recognise him like that – with his wet hair slicked back his face looked much sharper, and the glistening sheen gave him an ethereal glow. Instead of the easy-going smile or a mischievous grin I was used to, his face was tight in a stormy expression, thick eyebrows drawn close and mouth twitching into a scowl. His eyes were dark, and I couldn’t fight back a shiver at seeing the growing anger in them.

That wasn’t the almost adorable and a little clumsy Jungkook, a young man that joked around with me – that was a dragon, centuries old, proud and strong and ready to fight anyone that posed a threat to him.

Ha-rin watched him with an expression I haven’t seen on her face yet that entire evening – and even though she tried to hide it, the trickle of unease and fear was visible in the cracks of her confident mask, and neither she could conceal the way her instincts pushed her to take a step back from the kneeling man.

General Yan watched their exchange in worry before she finally gestured for us to leave and barked a few orders for everyone to change into the prepared robes, all before both her and her bonded stalked off to a corner of the room.

Jungkook helped me stand, and when I looked at him, his face was back to normal. The anger melted away and left behind a kind smile as he wrapped me into a gentle embrace – one arm coiled around my waist held tightly while he helped me down the three steps.

At first I wanted to protest, tell him that I could walk on my own well, but the moment I rose to my shaky legs I realised that my knees wouldn’t be able to support me on the way down, as they were already buckling under the strain of my weight.

Everyone watched us, even when they pretended they weren’t, and I felt their eyes on our forms, the knowledge of them witnessing such a tender moment and seeing my weakness sending unease crawling up my skin. Jungkook didn’t seem to care though, not with how he immediately sat me down the moment we reached the floor and started tugging at my robes to take them off.

I only had a few seconds to register what he was doing to get flustered beyond belief before Hwa-young ran over and knelt next to me.

“Gods, are you okay?” she whispered and frantically looked me over, as if I could be hiding any injuries from her, “For a moment you truly looked dead. You just slumped over and didn’t move at all. Even Yan freaked out before she pulled you up.” I barely listened to her, instead my attention was snatched by trying to fight Jungkook’s hands still stubbornly undoing my robes, but he wouldn’t budge and wouldn’t let me do it myself, so our hands just endlessly bumped into each other while I tried to push them off with burning cheeks.

“I didn’t even lose consciousness,” I told her absent-mindedly, “I think it just looked bad because I panicked right before she spoke to me.” Jungkook’s hands paused momentarily before he resumed, but even before I registered it Hwa-young already spoke again.

“Spoke to you?” she asked, completely confused. Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, a high whistle shot through the room, startling us into twirling around.

“Change! We don’t have the whole night!” Yan’s strong voice berated us, and everyone scurried off to get themselves into the ceremonial robes. I noticed the young knightess’ curious worried glances, but at that moment chose to channel my attention into pushing Jungkook’s hands away – until I finally succeeded and motioned for him to worry about his own clothes.

Everyone worked is silence, the room filled with sounds of rustling fabrics and clinking armour, only soft murmurs carrying through from where Siwoo was whispering about something with his dragon.

Jungkook was watching me like a hawk, like if he let me out of his sight for just a moment I might die, which greatly staggered his own changing speed – an action he seemed to do almost absent-mindedly as his gaze burned into me, and brought both embarrassment and confusion to the fore-front of my mind.

I attempted to ignore him and stripped down to my undergarments, now suddenly noticing others in similar state of undress messing with the robes all flustered and unsure – not one of them had donned them yet, and I woodenly turned to look towards the general.

She was watching us with disdain in her eyes, like we were all a bunch of bumbling idiots, before she gestured for us to strip – completely. A hush fell over the room as we eyed each other, some flustered and embarrassed, some mistrustful and disgusted. I fell somewhere in-between those two categories, depending on who my eye was on at the moment.

Peacock was also watching me quite closely after the cleansing incident, and my skin was crawling with the idea of him watching my naked body, no matter how his gaze reflected nothing but scorn and arrogance. I definitely wasn’t about to strip right in front of him, and especially not with how Jungkook suddenly seemed much more ruffled and started shuffling to situate himself between me and the rest of the room.

Pointedly I didn’t look at him, willing my wildly beating heart to calm down at the dark look in his eyes – telling myself this is nothing more than instincts – instincts that were triggered by him panicking about my safety that now pushed him into a much more protective stance over his chosen rider. Dragons were like that, and that was all that was happening, nothing more.

“Go on, strip,” the general’s grating voice once again rose in the silence, a sound which I already hated with burning passion, “you’re one unit, soldiers need to learn to share everything – nudity shouldn’t be an issue for you. You’ll have bigger problems to tackle.” Her statement was vaguely ominous, but it was right – when it came to life or death, nudity truly was the least of our problems. Changing, shitting, fucking – once on the battlefield, all illusion of privacy was gone and you’d quickly learn to ignore and accept it.

With that in mind, I decided that getting it over with was the only option here and ripped off the band-aid – almost literally, with how forcefully I tore the undergarments off my body, shocking a little noise out of Jungkook’s throat.

With burning cheeks I quickly put the white robe on, and only turned around once it was safely fastened into place. The dragon was watching me with wide eyes, cheeks similarly red. His hair glistened with the wetness, and it really brought out the purple metallic sheen to it, throwing off little pinkish reflections that danced across the grey marble floor. He was shirtless, hands frozen on the knot fastening his trousers, naked feet standing on the freezing floor without a single sign of feeling the biting cold.

As if woken up from trance, Jungkook suddenly turned back into motion, resuming the action of undressing. He didn’t turn away from me, in fact his eyes didn’t even leave mine, as I saw the split second the garment gave way and started slipping before I shot my gaze up, settling on watching the rough stone ceiling right above his shoulder. I couldn’t see into the room around him, but by the sound it was safe to assume everyone was getting on with the task as well.

After that it didn’t take long before we were all standing around in our white robes, some more cocky and some more unsure, but all stepping around like a bunch of lost children.

Yan let us be for a little bit, let the tension and the unease build in the atmosphere. The only ones who were calm were the older dragons – out of the six of them, I could see another one that must have been young enough to not know what was coming, while the other four stood comfortably by their bonded’s sides.

Jungkook was slipping back into his more jittery self, a little smile playing on his face out of nervousness, though I was sure he knew more about what was to come than me – after all, his thunder would surely tell him what to expect. I wished I had the courage to turn to him and ask, wished I had the chance to speak to him before this all happened so he could share his knowledge.

Wished I could have asked his thunder and have them prepare me too. I wanted to know how it felt – I was scared, foolishly so.

Yan finally had enough, or maybe the time just became right for us to move, but she suddenly launched into a march, motioning us into following her with a single gesture thrown over her shoulder. Somehow we’d ended up at the front, with Hwa and Yong right behind us, as we trudged back up those stairs and down winding hallways in this behemoth of a castle.

As we passed by the banquet hall, it was empty – only scattered chairs and tables full of food and drinks left there, as if everyone disappeared within a blink of an eye and this was all that was left of their presence – and for a split second I found myself wishing that was true.

The truth was that they were already waiting outside, gathered around the sanctuary in silence as we walked barefoot on the cold ground, dirt staining our soles and stones digging into them painfully.

I felt myself shiver, the cold wind whipping around us as we walked around the top of the rocks, and the deafening hum of waves crashing against the cliffs under us almost drowned out everything else. Mixed together with the low murmurs of the townsfolk gathered, it was hard to hear anything else.

The way towards the ceremonial sanctuary was lined with flowers, and had I more time and was in the correct headspace, I’d probably name them all. Currently I was too nervous to even pay too much attention to them.

I never thought I’d say that, but I was so grateful for getting the opportunity to meet the emperor before this, because I couldn’t imagine this being my introduction to him. He stood proudly in the little gazebo, dressed in golden ceremonial robes, face tight and regal and eyes almost burning. If I didn’t know any better, with the backdrop of the stormy darkened skies and the wind whipping around his face, I’d almost say he was magick.

Against my better judgement, a shudder ran through me at the image, a semblance of fear gripping me lightly before I shook it off.

He spoke, but his words didn’t quite reach me – lost to the endless whirlwind of noise around us, though I could hear his voice carrying above the elements. His arm rose, beckoning, fiery gaze locking straight onto me before an ugly grin split his face.

There was a push to my back, and suddenly I realised we still stood at the very front of the procession and therefore were the first in line.

Jungkook was already moving, proudly holding his chin high as he set out towards our fate, and I scrambled to follow after him and to keep up. As the distance shortened, my nerves mounted – not in any particularly bad way, but the anticipation of what this meant coursed through me and made my heart beat out of my chest.

I struggled to read the dragon’s face – I wouldn’t say he was expressionless, but the kind smile he wore every time he looked to me was still plastered to his face as he turned to check I was with him. Jungkook looked no different than he always did. Unbothered, unburdened. I let that anchor me as I jogged to catch up to him.

The emperor’s figure was steadily approaching us, the intricate details of his golden embroidered robe became more visible, much as the expression on his face. It was hard to say what it looked like to others, how much attention they were even paying to him, but something deeply unsettled me about the fire burning in his eyes.

Hungry and expectant. Excited, even.

He watched us with the craze of a proud artist looking at his greatest piece. Like an arsonist gazes at a fire.

I didn’t like it.

My gaze shifted and instead I caught the eye of my father who stood near the front, turned so he could watch me walk. His glare was full of warning, disapprovingly jumping between me and the tenderly smiling Jungkook, and I knew exactly what he’d tell me. It was better to not imagine it.

Thus I pulled my focus back and poured it all into Jungkook. There was an innate pull inside of me to reach for his hand again, yearning for that brief but intense contact, but I hesitated to do so in front of so many people.

It wasn’t unusual to fuck your dragons, but affection? That was deemed beneath us.

As I was going through my internal crisis, I didn’t even notice when we crossed the entire distance until I felt the cold ground under my feet transform into the freezing stone. A shudder ran through me, shocking a little gasp out of my mouth, and immediately Jungkook reeled in on the sound. I could see that his instincts were going into overdrive again, eyes darkening like I could be deathly threatened by stone. The wind was whipping his curly hair around and as usual it was all tangled up into his little horns.

Not wanting a repeat of the cave, I ignored him and instead reluctantly looked to the emperor hoping he’d give us instructions on how to proceed.

The gazebo inside felt a lot smaller than it looked from the outside. There really wasn’t much space to move around, especially not with Jungkook’s mass at my side and the emperor’s wide shoulders at the other, but I guess there wasn’t really much reason to have a lot of space. Exactly in the centre of the circular space stood another basin with water, this one tall and thin with a single leg and a small bowl at the top. The altar.

At least no one could drown me in this one, small victories.

I could tell Jungkook was having the same thoughts, his hard stare boring into the side of it like it was a weapon of mass destruction.

But then my attention was once again snatched by the ruler, who slowly walked around us, to stand in the middle and look out into the yard. Me and Jungkook ended up on either side of the little bowl, looking to each other and hoping for any kind of solace offered with soft smiles on unsure lips.

Suddenly Jungkook was holding his hands above the water, fingers twitching and beckoning me to take them. I hesitated a little, the same thought from before shortly surfacing in my mind, but then I realised this was a part of the ritual. The several bonding ceremonies I witnessed before shuffled through my memory, but I could barely remember anything with how my nerves ate me from inside.

I grasped the dragon’s hands quickly, not wanting to be seen stalling to touch him, especially not when I couldn’t explain myself properly, and he gripped me tightly. There was a lot of reassurance in it, but there wasn’t any time to dwell on it.

The emperor draped a thin long strip of embroidered fabric over our joined hands, reminding me of old marriage ceremonies – and though that was a type of bonding too, it still brought a blush to my face. I kept my gaze pointed down, taking in the practiced graceful movements on the man’s golden hands, getting so lost in the showman gestures I jerked when suddenly his voice boomed right by our side.

“Under the vigilant eyes of the Moon Goddess,” the man spoke with a performative lilt to his voice, letting his head fall back as his arms rose up to the sky dramatically, “we humbly ask for a blessing of this sacred bond.”

A shiver wracked through me, strong enough to have me almost stumbling where I stood, and I felt Jungkook do the same. A string of silver moonlight fell through the roof to right where our hands touched, hidden beneath the ceremonial cloth, and it seemed to heat up – almost like we gave off energy just by being touched by it. The fire spread through my veins, and it was just as pleasant as concerning, always on the edge of pain and pouring through my body so quick it didn’t give me time to catch up.

I gasped for a breath, saw Jungkook’s wild eyes jump to me at the sound, and the moment our eyes met everything went fuzzy. Light was dancing over his skin, running in mesmerising patterns and bringing out the honey tone. His hand twitched, almost crushing my own fingers – and then a wave suddenly rose in me – and I realised the light was manifestation of magick.

“Mind to mind, soul to soul,” the emperor’s voice rose with every word, and I wanted to flinch away from him – because it felt like everything was suddenly amplified, grating at my nerves every time his voice boomed in my already sensitive ringing ears.

“Dagger to fang, sword to claw!” the man was screaming now, the winds beating around us and the crashes of the waves below us creating a cacophony that made me want scream too, and I found myself unable to even open my mouth under the strain of the strange energy flowing through me to Jungkook and back.

I felt him under my skin, felt him flowing through my veins. The scent of a smoky wood, maybe sandalwood or cedar, with a metallic iron-like undertone flooded my senses – I could almost taste gunpowder on my tongue with its fiery heaviness. I didn’t know it yet, but it was the scent I would come to know as Jungkook from then on – as my perception heightened.

“Unite them! Unite them under your divine light!” shouted the man, and light burst in front of my eyes.

For a few moments after that I couldn’t feel anything else than the thrum of Jungkook’s blood while his hands crushed mine in a steel grip as the frantic magickal frenzy circulating through our bodies reached its crescendo. Static hummed in my ears, a high whistling sound cutting through and biting painfully into my already hurting head. Then as soon as it started it was over, like an aftermath of a tornado tearing through your house – when the winds started to settle and all that was left was the wreckage. My sight slowly started coming back – and my breath got caught in my throat.

Jungkook was looking at me with wide eager eyes, the magick still crackling around him with little fizzles of light that made his skin glow golden and his hair look like a black lit halo. I felt myself zero in on the young dragon, a pull so strong I felt it jerk me closer to him and I made a little confused sound. That made him jerk closer in return, and we both barrelled into the stone basin.

Later, when my mind was clear, I’d be embarrassed of that little display we put on, but at the moment I couldn’t comprehend or care about anything beyond the way emotions spilled into me – emotions that weren’t mine, but that screamed excitement and hope and pure bottomless love for everything so strong I stumbled under the force of that.

Then Jungkook was side-stepping the altar and gathering me into his arms, effortlessly pulling me off my feet and marching confidently into the castle leaving a shocked silence behind us.

My mind hurt under the extension of the second soul, and every Jungkook’s thought that jumped into my mind just muddled my brain further. I felt the beat of his heart underlining mine, the pattern of his breaths in my own lungs, everywhere we touched was lit on fire and I burned.

I was dizzy. And the dragon was an excited ball of endless chatter – I’ll help you, I’ll care for you, my bonded, I feel you, I see you, my human, mine, mine, mine – all spilling over into me, and I groaned.

An undetermined amount of time later I was set down on a comfortable sofa, and I immediately lied down. Seconds and minutes spilt into each other, and I wasn’t capable of saying how much time passed, or even how fast it was currently passing. The nausea pulled me to the ground and all my limbs jerked and twitched under the current of energy and magick. I’ve never been subjected to raw power like that before, and I had no idea about the kind of effect bonding souls could have on you. Shouldn’t it have been a happy occasion? Why did I feel like a drunk after a particularly wild all-night bender?

Someone was speaking, but all I could hear was Jungkook’s stuttered breathing, his heartbeat quickening in worry and the sick feeling of his fear poured over onto me. I jerked once, then heaved, then jerked again.

Warm glove-clad hands clasped firmly at my shoulders and I was pulled on my back. Someone ran their hand over my forehead, gathering the wet hair (whether from the cleansing or sweat, I had no idea, and I didn’t particularly care) and giving my cheek a soft caress. The tender gesture was unfamiliar to me, but I found myself sinking into that gentle hand, too instinct driven to worry about propriety.

“Jungkook, calm down,” a deep stable voice said, my attention immediately pulled at the mention of my bonded’s name, “You need to keep your emotions stable, you’re making her sick.” A pained whine was an answer, and I jerked in that tender embrace with the instinct to go and help him put the hurt away. Whoever was holding me though didn’t let me move an inch and firmly pushed me back into the furnishing.

My stomach started rolling again and I was suddenly very aware that a steady current of tears was leaking out of my closed eyes. A soft hush, a hum, and then those tears were being wiped away with a warm cloth, and I untensed.

I could still feel Jungkook’s tumultuous emotions warring in him, I could almost see his tense figure standing over me and watching me with those dark intense eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually look with how everything spun the last time I tried.

Shuffling was heard, more soft whispers that I couldn’t discern and then a burningly hot hand clasped around my naked ankle, sending a wave of electricity through my nervous system. The moment I felt Jungkook’s touch it was like everything bad in me quietened.

“…the strength of the connection… the bond is… they will be very heightened… very, very strong it seems…” words floated in and out of my mind, Namjoon’s deep calming drawl working like magick on me and putting me more at ease, though I could barely comprehend what he was saying. Jungkook was responding with little eager chirps and hums, and that was all I cared about in that moment.

Just as I was about to completely wind down, the doors flew open so hard they hit the wall. Chillingly familiar footsteps marched in, and I didn’t even have to open my eyes to see who it was – I’d recognise that fury anywhere. My father’s booming voice sounded through the room, but I couldn’t discern the words through the new over-powering wave of fear and nausea that hit me, this time fully my own.

Not even those firm hands could hold me down as I jerked to the side and threw up all over the floor. Instead they kept me steady and patted my back, and for the first time in long painful years I felt cared for.

Funny what a little benign touch can do to you, really.

The general’s footsteps walked closer again and then a loud hostile growl sounded through the room, making everyone freeze. Jungkook.

“Keep the mutt in his place, dragon,” the human man said, with such disdain in his voice I felt embarrassed on his behalf.

With considerable effort I pulled my eyes open, and though I was still a little dizzy and looked through a haze of pained tears, at least the world stood still over me. Those firm warm hands turned out to be Hoseok’s, and really I should have known with the ease that came to them when handling a sick person, though the dragon himself was watching me with a deeply troubled expression – a huge contrast to the gentle touch.

Seokjin’s face floated above mine, worry etched into it quite openly to my great surprise, as his gloved hands held a little handkerchief clutched in them. Taehyung was also in my field of vision, the second youngest dragon bending over the backrest of the sofa to look closer at me with deep soulful eyes. I shuddered at the look of boundless empathy in them, and turned quickly to locate my bonded.

Jungkook sat crumpled on the floor by my feet, one hand still firmly clasped over my ankle and looking very unapologetic even as Namjoon’s huge hand gripped the back of his neck and kept him immobile. The thunder leader was kneeling right by him, and he must have previously been trying to comfort him so he wouldn’t make me sicker, but now his attention was fully on my father, and he was not happy.

For some reason my instincts called me to locate the last two dragons of the thunder, and I strained my eyes to search for them before I addressed the elephant in the room. It didn’t take me long, thankfully, since both of them stood just a little away from the scene, closer to the corner of the room (which, I didn’t even recognise where we were in the castle, and I really hoped Jungkook didn’t just blindly run into the first lounge he saw). Jimin stood there with fear written in his eyes, and worry too, but they were trained on Jungkook – as if he was completely oblivious to anything else that was happening in the room. His hands were trembling where he held them, and he was a picture of pure despair. Yoongi looked deceptively calm, but I could see the storm brewing under his skin like little shadows dancing – and for once I wasn’t the one his ire was directed at.

My father stood there in the middle of it all, angry and full of hate, gaze burning into me. I knew he had a lot to say, and I knew he wouldn’t wait to let me hear it. And I knew the dragons wouldn’t leave now, not when Jungkook seemed to be in some sort of instinct driven haze, so I just resigned myself to this happening right now in front of everyone.

“What was that about!?” the general hissed out, shaking with barely contained rage and pointing towards Jungkook who already had a beginning of a scowl on his face before Namjoon grabbed his mouth and covered it with his second hand so that nothing else slipped out. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

I just blinked at the man and wordlessly tried to push myself into a sitting position even though everything in me protested the notion – especially when it dislodged Jungkook’s hold on me and the dragon jerked and chased any kind of contact. Hoseok didn’t lessen his hold on me, and even pulled my feet closer to him to prevent me from stepping into my own vomit, for which I was endlessly grateful cause I almost managed to hit square into the middle of the puddle.

“Nobody else fucking even blinked! And you make a whole scene?!” the general continued, completely lost in his own world and with face so red he’d blend in perfectly into that awful sitting room the emperor loved so much. “Running out hand in hand like a pair of giggling lovers?! Do you truly wish so hard to embarrass me?! I thought we were over this!”

I pursed my lips and sat there with my head hung low, biding my time knowing well he wasn’t done yet. The dragons seemed to be frozen, casting curious worried glances between me and everyone else in the room, but none of them moved a single inch like they were trying to escape the man’s attention and trick him into forgetting they were there.

From someone who grew up with him – it was a pretty decent strategy when it came to the general’s tantrums.

“I sat there through all other five ceremonies, and everyone walked away on their own two feet! You should have seen the way people snickered and whispered at you! How am I supposed to show my face in the council tomorrow!?”

Then the man started agitatedly walking around the room, hand pressed into his red heated forehead, eyes wild and unseeing. In the moment of silence that followed everyone’s eyes turned to me, curious for my turn.

“How did I wind up with a child like you?” the man muttered suddenly, so vicious I saw Jungkook tremble, and I hoped he wasn’t reacting to the war of emotions currently boiling in my chest.

“Father,” I cut through the tense atmosphere, sensing my opportunity there. I quickly rose to my feet, fighting to stay upright and not lean on Hoseok’s shoulder when a wave of dizziness hit me. The white robe I put on before did nothing to hide me from cold now that all adrenaline drained out of my body, and I started shivering. My father’s eyes speared me right through, and under their careful watch I walked into the middle of the room, still looking only at him.

“Don’t you understand?” I asked softly, not wishing to antagonise him, but trying to play genuineness as long as I could get away with it. I desperately wracked my brain for anything to offer him when the words spoken by Namjoon earlier slammed into me in a quick and sudden revelation, now putting two and two together with my mind clearer and survival instincts pushing to the front. I hated the way my stomach rolled when I realised what I had to do.

“The way me and Jungkook reacted to each other means our bond is exceptionally strong.”

Nervously my eyes shifted to the thunder sitting and standing around the room. All of them cautiously monitored the situation, eyes flitting between me and the volatile angry man still pacing back and forth, looking like a caged tiger about to attack. I saw as Namjoon’s eyes slowly darkened as he caught on what I was saying, and I looked away before it could tear my heart apart.

I swallowed my pride, swallowed my feelings, swallowed the rising bile that my revolting stomach pushed out once more, swallowed my expectations, swallowed my hope, and stood closer to the man to tempt him with the only thing he couldn’t refuse. Power.

“Imagine the potential, father,” I whispered to him, like a siren calling onto his desires, “Imagine the power I will wield with him. I can soar to such heights, father. Gain the emperor’s favour, maybe I could even marry him.” That had the man stopping dead in his tracks.

I knew those words would work on him, because I knew the outlook he held on marriages. I protested against mentions of any arrangements every chance I got, but thankfully with focusing on my military career it wasn’t a topic that was pressing or brought up too often. Insinuating that I would want to marry the emperor though, on my own without him pushing me, those were promises that sounded so sweet to the greedy man. He’d fall for them every time.

In a few steps he was in front of me, firm hand grabbing onto my cheek as he grinned savagely. His touch was meant to serve the same purpose as Hoseok’s earlier, and yet it didn’t hold any of the warmth or tenderness the dragon granted me. His hand was rough with years of labour and fighting, hardened by wielding a sword for most of his life, and it scratched along my face in a way that was deeply unpleasant.

The general’s eyes looked right through me. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head, calculating, planning, counting his gains, and for a moment I felt a biting pang of hurt shoot through my chest knowing that even now, even when I offered him what he wanted from me the most – for our descendants to be of royal blood – he wasn’t really proud of me, not in the way that a parent should. Instead, he thought of himself, always and till the end. I’d always be an afterthought.

Maybe it was because the situation was so volatile, maybe it was because my emotions and my heart felt especially vulnerable after the ceremony and were already running wild, but more than ever I saw how he never thought of us with an ounce of affection, always wielding us like weapons in his chase for power and riches. I always knew, I swore I did. I thought I’d long since passed the days when I hoped for a smile or kind words, that I’ve long given up on caring about his opinions of me – and yet I always found new ways to surprise myself and break my own heart.

Tears sprung up in my eyes as I smiled back at him. I did desperately try to blink them away but my lips still curled in a way so savage and hurt – and he didn’t see me at all.

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, Y/N,” the man said finally, completely turning the page from his earlier outburst, “I expected nothing less of you than utter greatness.” It’s like he never remembered his earlier words, or maybe cared so little he didn’t understand why they’d sting – always just walking away and leaving you standing there with your heart burnt to crisp. And today was no exception. Without any further words he turned on his heel and without sparing anyone a single glance marched out, so pleased with himself it was hard to watch.

I stood there, in the utter silence he left behind, head hung low in shame as I broke apart for the countless time. I couldn’t bear to see what was written on the dragon’s faces, couldn’t bear to see to lose even the last threads of worry they might have shown me. I couldn’t bear the disappointment, and I couldn’t bear the weight of Jungkook’s wide-eye stare.

My chest burned, but I could barely feel any emotion from his side. I wondered what he felt from me. I hoped nothing.

The fresh, sour adrenaline fizzled out of my system and before I knew it, it was like strings on a marionette were cut and I was stumbling, my knees buckling as if my body abruptly realised it couldn’t operate right now. Just as suddenly the whole world dimmed before my eyes and everything caught up to me, the weight of the emotional toll pulling me to the ground. A sharp zap of pain travelled through me, turning everything to static, and then I was falling as my consciousness slowly slipped away at the edges.

I still hoped, but there was no one to break my fall.

I woke up in the infirmary. The place was mostly unfamiliar to me, but it was unmistakable – if not by the surroundings, then by the heavily herbal scent that clung onto the air and permeated everywhere.

It took a moment for reality to catch up to me as I laid there with cotton-filled head and bleary eyes still glued together by the remnants of sleep. My ears seemingly caught up first because all I could focus on were two nurses whispering gossip to each other in the corner of the room, and I was maybe two minutes into listening about her sister’s cheating husband when I realised I shouldn’t even be able to hear them talk.

That had waking me up pretty quickly, my body freezing over in shock – and the realisation that I heard things no human should be able to hear – like the chatter of four knights under the closed windows, or the slow methodical clinking of someone stirring something in a ceramic cup at the other side of the room. Or the steady breathing of someone sitting right by my side.

When I turned my head to the side to look at the visitor, Jungkook’s eyes were already trained on me – and yes, of course, he would have felt me wake up. He must have been waiting for me to become more aware.

The young dragon sat awkwardly straight in his little wooden chair, looking like there was whole books worth of what he wanted to say, but something prevented him from opening his mouth and talking.

My eyes zeroed in on him, and it was like I was seeing him properly for the first time. I could discern the individual lovably messy strands of his purplish black hair, I could see the little imperfections on his skin, I could see that his eyes actually had little specks of silver in them. He was wringing his hands in his lap, and as soon as my gaze dropped down to his tattooed forearms, I was blown away by the detail and the vivid colouring that I’ve never quite seen like that.

Trying to centre myself and pull my attention back, I closed my eyes without saying anything and instead focused on the warm little ball in my chest that I came to recognise as Jungkook’s side of the bond. Briefly I wondered whether he felt the bond the same way I did. How did it manifest for him?

In my mind I gently caressed that fuzzy happy bundle, and in return I was flooded with the young dragon’s careful enthusiasm and worry. He was keeping himself in check, most probably because he didn’t want to overwhelm me with his emotions again, but there was no trace of the anger, betrayal or mistrust I was fearing.

Opening my eyes again I took one long look at his face and then said: “I hear everything, like… absolutely everything. And I see better too.” Jungkook smiled and eagerly shuffled the chair closer to me to lean in like we were trading secrets.

“After the bond takes hold, your senses sharpen slightly to match the dragon’s,” he explained in a cheery voice, winking quickly when he caught my eye, “at least that’s what Namjoon hyung said.”

I vaguely remembered knowing that and thinking about it earlier, but now the information struggled to come up when I reached for it. After waking up with the bond it felt like everything in my brain got scrambled and reshuffled into different places.

It was like I was someone completely new.

“Which reminds me,” Jungkook jumped back into his cheerful little monologue, tearing me out of my confused musings, “that the hyungs are waiting outside. I should let them know you’re up.” At those words icy cold fear poured through my whole body and I jerked with the panic taking a hold in my heart.

“Jungkook, wait-“ I only got a few words out before I heard the door quietly creak open, two pairs of strong footsteps confidently walking in. My bonded sat on the chair and watched me with increasingly more worry when he started clocking in my state of terror, and I cursed how easy it would be for him to read me now.

The man reached for my hand with an apologetic expression just as Hoseok and Namjoon walked into view and moved straight towards us. My frantic eyes flew over their postures and expressions, but I couldn’t read anything from them – they held themselves perfectly collected – perfectly detached just the right amount.

Hoseok only slightly inclined his head in a greeting and went immediately to the side unoccupied by Jungkook to check on my status. When his gloved hands made contact with my skin, I held my breath nervously. He wasn’t rough by any means, but any warmth those magickal hands held before was now all gone, and it hurt me enough to almost make me cry. Jungkook squeezed my wrist gently but didn’t say anything, and I stayed quiet too. Instead I told myself that this sudden emotional attachment simply came with the bond too and pushed it all away.

The nature dragon worked quickly, skilled fingers flying over my forehead, checking my pulse and hovering over my chest to make sure everything was in working order. After a few minutes of tense silence as we all watched him, he finally stepped back and wordlessly nodded at Namjoon before he turned to me with a strained smile.

“Young Miss Kang,” Namjoon then spoke, taking the first chance he could to draw my attention and say his piece, “there’s been some changes in arrangements.” That sentence alone was enough to scare the absolute shit out of me, and paired with the solemn firm expression on the dragon’s face I was fully expecting him to tell me I was no longer welcome to bond Jungkook.

Namjoon’s next words shocked me though.

“I’ve spoken to your father while you were unconscious. He’s met with the emperor and they decided it would be for the best for you to not move into the barracks like others, but instead stay closer to Jungkook,” he got all out in one breath, like he was trying to prevent me from jumping in. I had a lot of experience with staying silent while others were speaking though, so I just looked at him expectantly whether there was more.

The tall man watched me for a few moments, inquisitive eyes burning through me curiously, before he stepped a little closer to Jungkook to put a hand on his shoulder. The younger dragon immediately relaxed and leaned into his thunder leader, though his hand never left mine, even as I felt his heart stutter with love through my own chest.

God, this was starting to weird me out a little.

“We will be able to vacate you a spot in our house,” Namjoon continued after a moment, considerably slower now that he saw I was willing to just listen quietly, “It’s a bit further away from the castle than your house, but the emperor wishes for you to be as close to the thunder as possible.” Much displeasure flickered through his face, and I frowned.

Why would the emperor insist on something like that? I would understand it if it was just Jungkook, but the whole thunder? I couldn’t even make the case that he didn’t want to separate the youngling from his mated pack, because that would be too considerate of the man and he wasn’t capable of such silly things like empathy.

I watched the three dragons with a heavy heart and quickly realised why the two were being so polite and standoffish. They thought I was under full protection of the emperor and any unkindness that would happen to me would be reported and punished. I sighed deeply and looked towards the tall dragon.

“Autho- I mean, Namjoon-ssi,” I stumbled through the words, throat a little drier and sorer than before the men stepped inside the room, “I couldn’t possibly trespass into your thunder’s house, but I thank you for the invitation. I will personally speak with the emperor and petition for a different solution, so your pack can keep their space uninvaded.” I realised that my words definitely didn’t help my case, but when the relationship between me and the rest of the Bangtan thunder was already so rocky, I couldn’t imagine moving onto their property would make it any better.

The Authority gave me a weary look, suddenly looking way more tired and worn down than I’ve ever seen him, with how the power seemed to sap out of him and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“There’s no need to go through the trouble, Young Miss Kang,” he spoke quietly and gave me a resigned smile, though there was nothing friendly about it – quite the opposite it seemed, actually, “The emperor is set on this, and your father readily agrees. With the strength of the bond, they both want you two close so it can solidify.”

Shame and guilt hit me like a whole mountain fell on me, and I froze with my gaze glued to my lap. There it was, those words. The anger. And because I was a coward, I couldn’t bring myself to raise my eyes and look at the man. Instead I stayed curled in on myself, like the spineless rat they probably thought me to be.

I saw Hoseok’s form squirming to my left and Jungkook sitting still to my right, looking to his leader with a soft disapproving expression, and it was so foreign to his face I wanted to kick myself for putting it there. I shouldn’t be putting him into a position where stood against his thunder.

“Very well then,” I whispered finally, deciding it might be best to just go along and hope for the best, “I’ll need to go gather my things and pack up the essentials, but I could meet you by your house in a few hours.”

“There’s no need,” Namjoon’s rumbly voice spoke up the second I closed my mouth, “Your room at your house has already been packed up and moved by your servants. All of your things are waiting for you in our sitting room.”

My gaze flew up in surprise, and I barely clocked the displeased frown residing on the dragon’s face as he spoke to me. “How long have I slept?”

I turned to Jungkook with the question, but it was Hoseok who chimed in with “a little over two days”. It was the first time I heard his voice in what felt like weeks, so the moment I recognised it I was turning to him with surprise written all over my face. Something flickered in my chest, my mind very unhelpfully supplying the memory of his gentle caress, and I shut that down quickly before Jungkook sniffed it out. Then the words sunk in.

“What?!” I yelped out, jumping to sit upright and scaring the absolute shit out of the nature dragon standing by my side, “More than two days!? I thought it was maybe a few hours!” Namjoon was watching the red-headed dragon clutch his chest and calm down with a soft look, while Jungkook turned to me with his sparkling puppy eyes.

“Hobi-hyung said it’s normal,” he told me, and I could see he was now way prouder that he could go back to taking care of me, which brought a slight blush onto my face.

“No, I said it was understandable for the situation,” Hoseok corrected him when he turned back to the two of us, faced also a little flushed, “Usually when the bond is so heavy when settling down, it requires a lot of peace and care for the person to come out well. It was a really stressful situation, so her body shut down to recalibrate on its own.” He gave me an awkward half-smile and then mumbled something about medicine and high-tailed it out of there, leaving us to our uncomfortable little corner.

As he sped away, there was a clinking sound floating around him, and I realised that he had several charms and beads woven around his antler-like horns that created cheerful little sounds as he moved around, quite literally making music out of the tempo and rhythm of his walk. I found that it fit him very well.

“Peace and care,” I mumbled under my breath as my attention turned back to the conversation. My eyes fell on the silent Jungkook watching me something a little sad in his gaze, and it was so obvious he felt everything I did those two days ago in that cursed little lounge I had to avert my eyes in the face of it.

That at least explained why the dragons had suddenly shown me such gentleness. They were trying to make me well because they knew I needed to calm down.

Ignoring the fact that Jungkook now knew more than I was willing to admit to anyone, I looked towards Namjoon and nodded firmly.

“Okay, I’m ready to go.”

The walk from the castle grounds to the dragons’ townhouse was understandably an incredibly awkward affair. Hoseok silently joined us as we were walking down one of the many hallways, hand clutching a satchel containing something in glass bottles, based on how it rang with every movement. The man paid it no mind though, a faraway look in his eyes while he was clearly lost in thought.

Jungkook refused to let go of me, and because I couldn’t bear the weight of holding hands I let him loosely hold onto my wrist, which he did delicately with three of his fingers wrapped around the bony part (the better option, really, because he was capable of trying to persuade me to let him carry me). Namjoon walked in front, unapologetic and firm, not sparing us a single glance. He knew we would follow him.

Now having much more time to look around than the last time I visited, this time I truly took the house in. It was a fairly nice one, though definitely felt too small for seven adult men. There was a little courtyard beyond the gates that lead towards the main entrance inside, and another square courtyard sat inside as the heart of the house. There was a tiny one-room house a little ways away from the main building, sitting alone in a corner. Usually servants would inhabit it, but here it surely wasn’t more than a storage room, or a garden shed.

There were three bedrooms in the house – one bigger one, and two considerably smaller. Namjoon, now joined by Jin by his side, led me to the big room and waved me inside. Even as tidy as it was, it still felt completely stuffed with all kinds of things and trinkets and gadgets and columns of books, not even speaking of the clothes that were popping out of any closet space and any chest they had there. It was painfully small to hold everything in.

“This is my, Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s room,” the oldest dragon spoke, surprisingly gently considering his expression was very neutral, “it might take a few hours, but we’ll have it ready for you by the evening, so you can sleep here.” I was opening my mouth before I even fully processed what he just told me.

“Absolutely not,” it came out of my mouth a little harsher than intended in my haste to disagree, and I felt Namjoon’s disapproving gaze even without seeing him, “I mean- This is the biggest room in the house, and three of you live here. I can’t push you out. I’ll think of something, and I can sleep in the sitting room or even the dining area. I won’t force you out of your bedroom.” My words were met with a tense silence, but at least they weren’t protesting – clearly they were against it too, but felt strong-armed into coddling me out of fear I was a spoilt little brat.

Without waiting for them to speak, I turned and walked back down the stairs taking everything in carefully. The other dragons were home too and I could sense them watching me from every corner of the house, but I was too busy trying to find a little corner where I could hide myself away and not throw their whole household into a disarray. Just because my father felt the need to showcase his power and his standing. What a stupid fucking reason to break apart someone’s life for.

As I was walking towards the main entrance again, I passed by the little backyard – and saw the servant house again.

Footsteps shuffled across the floor and then there was a warm presence by my side, so assuming it was Jungkook I asked without turning: “Do you have anything in there?”

“Hobi-hyung has his gardening things there, but otherwise it’s pretty empty.” The deep honey-like voice shocked me to my core, and I swung around only to come face to face with Taehyung and his blueish grey curious eyes. His curly locks fell around his head in what I would call perfect manner, giving him a crown of dark dark crimson around his perfectly sculpted expressionless face.

The dragon’s aura pressed into me full force from all sides as he tilted his head to continue taking me in, and I blushed with having so much of his attention on me. There was something about him that just pulled you in, and no matter how hard you tried it was almost impossible to tear your gaze away from his eyes. Gentle floral scent pushed into my senses and as soon as I noticed it, it was like my muscles turned to soup and I barely stood on my own two feet.

I felt that if he asked, I’d do anything for him.

Then he was shifting away and the pull suddenly lessened, and I realised – it must have been something related to his magick. A cold current of fear ran through me, but I pushed down the need to shudder because I didn’t want to offend him.

Or anyone else, because by that time the whole thunder was gathered around and watching the interaction. I forced myself to ignore their gazes and turned straight to Hoseok.

“Hoseok-ssi, do you think you’d be able to clear it out for me?” The man watched me for a few more seconds before it seemingly caught up to him that I asked him a question, and then he was quickly nodding, already moving towards the garden before Jin’s hand stopped him.

“Absolutely not,” Jin repeated my earlier words, and I’d almost call the expression on his face cheeky if not for the fact that we were everything except people who teased each other fondly. He was about to speak more, but Namjoon jumped in with a very troubled expression.

“That is absolutely not possible, Young Mistress Kang,” he said seriously, voice firm and not inviting any kind of protests, “that would be incredibly inappropriate. We cannot house a young knight and a daughter from a prominent family in an old servant dwelling. The implications-“

“I know, Authority, but it is the least invasive option,” I jumped into his speech, not wanting to let him spiral unnecessarily, “I will explain it to the emperor if I have to. I will tell him it was my choice and that this is the most appropriate way for me to live here. After all, taking away all else, I am an unmarried woman in a house full of young men, those implications aren’t exactly flattering to the general public either.”

Not that I cared about that, but it definitely came in handy during situations like these.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jungkook and Jimin standing side by side blushing at my words, but my attention was quickly snatched by a very disgruntled Namjoon sporting a stormy expression on his face.

“I do not think you understand, Young Mistress,” he spoke with quiet fierceness, and it was the first time I was on the receiving end of such a tone from him, “I don’t think anything you say to the emperor will change much for us.”

Those words did have me stopping in my tracks as they sunk in. I looked to Namjoon again and this time properly took him in – the storm in his eyes, it spoke of experience. Experience of the sovereign’s unfavourable reactions. Experience that no matter what, they will still likely find a reason to punish the thunder.

For the first time I fully realised just what I was playing with here – and what ramifications my behaviour could have for the dragons, even when they didn’t know of my plans. No matter how much I hated my family name and despised my father, I still walked through life with a shield – a shield that would deflect all the shit from me, but splatter it at those around.

There in that moment I felt like such a child, way in over my head. Juggling with others’ lives without understanding how my game could mess them up.

I swiped my hand over my face, sighing deeply into it as it reached my mouth. I walked around the room a little, needing to push all the sudden adrenaline and nervousness somewhere – because I needed to come up with a way to do it as safely as possible for the dragons, and I needed to do it now. Because whether they liked it or not, this thunder’s well-being was now my concern. At least as long as they were unaware of my ulterior motives and couldn’t decide whether they’d like to take the risk or not.

All the seven dragons present watched me aimlessly float through the room, but I felt Namjoon’s gaze especially – my eyes being drawn to him the moment I thought of the Authority. His expression was still pinched, but he seemed to be waiting on me to speak again.

And pathetically the only thing that I could think of was beating the emperor to the punch. Doing what he’d expect and playing him anyway.

“What if I go there right now? Before I move anywhere,” I threw the suggestion into the room, carefully searching for any kind of negative reactions. When none came, I continued. “He’ll want me to come see him anyway. He always asks about everything. I’ll tell him I came straight from the hospital to thank him for his thoughtfulness.” I wasn’t sure if my voice betrayed anything deeper about what I thought of the man on the throne, but I hoped they at least didn’t think I was actually infatuated with him. Though, I’m sure it wouldn’t be that unusual for people to fake their way into the emperor’s favour.

The dragons stood around for a moment, sharing some glances – most probably communicating through their mind link, before Jin turned to me and simply nodded.

“It could work,” the thunder leader admitted quietly, “but you’ll have to mention it as an off-hand comment. That you moved in there because you think it more appropriate.” I didn’t let it show when I solemnly nodded to his words, but I was definitely surprised at the words of advice. Though he most likely did extend them to me only to make sure his loved ones caught the least amount of flack.

I moved towards the main door immediately, feeling Jungkook step right behind me like he was pulled by an invisible string to wherever I moved. On instinct I checked on the still tender and a little strange manifestation of his bond that dwelled deep in my chest, but all I could detect was worry with a pinch of careful joy.

It seemed that Jungkook was also way more nervous than he let on, so I let a pulse of gratefulness through and basked in the explosion of happiness coming from him.

Not paying attention to anything else than the playful feeling of Jungkook’s beating heart, I almost walked straight into a very unimpressed Namjoon who stood and waited by the main entrance already, looking at me in a manner that I’d definitely call disapproving. Realising I must have been just walking blindly smiling to myself like an idiot, I thought that was probably fair and let it go with slightly pink embarrassed cheeks.

Jungkook was suddenly acting like he turned into an adhesive, always plastered to me or standing just mere centimetres to me, so the moment we stepped out and begun our walk straight back to the castle for the second time that day, his warmth boring into my side was a constant reminder of his presence, together with the pulses of the never silent bond.

Namjoon didn’t look very happy, but even after I searched through my mind, I couldn’t recall a time I saw him calm or truly neutral – he was always tinged with something more, something not very positive, always on the edge of some sort of an abyss that only he knew of and understood. He worried me a lot – because how does one win the trust of a dragon like that? He probably knew all the reasons why he shouldn’t let a human near his thunder, after all that was definitely why Yoongi refused to spare a single glance in my direction too.

‘There’s no reason to worry, I’ll be there with you’. The voice burst in seemingly from inside me, echoing through my mind like a wayward thought, and I flinched in surprise. If I immediately didn’t recognise it as Jungkook’s sweet mellow voice, I’d have thought I had really gone crazy. Instead I outwardly stuttered a little, instinctively wanting to reply with words, which drew Namjoon’s attention. He didn’t turn to me, as he walked in front, but I saw his shoulders move in a slow roll signalling he was now listening to what was happening behind.

I sent a few thoughts out, hoping any of them would reach across the little string tying us together (like throwing mud at a stone wall and hoping that it sticks, more like), but when there continued to be no response, I realised none of them landed.

I turned as much of my attention to it as I could and focused hard, imagining the string as a rope instead – holding onto it as tight as possible and sending a sentence across like a little bird.

‘Stop spying on me’. I had meant to chastise him, but that definitely sounded a lot whinier than I anticipated, which was confirmed when little melodious giggles bounced around my mind in response. I felt my tense muscles ease at the sound, a smile unconsciously tugging at my lips too.

‘Stop being a walking cloud of doom, then’, came Jungkook’s words – and even though he meant them in joke, I still couldn’t help the painful tug at my heart that elicited. Immediately the bitter taste of guilt and regret flooded me, smelling like burnt wood and damp stone. I grew dizzy for a moment and stumbled gently, righting myself almost instantly. The constant up and down of someone else’s emotions was draining me – not to mention my own seemed to uncharacteristically volatile too, and suddenly I found myself dragging my feet more than before, feeling a heavy weight set into my shoulders.

This whole matter was turning more difficult with each day, and so far I’ve actually only been awake for a couple of hours.

Something must have given us away, because it finally caught Namjoon’s attention enough to intervene, and the golden eyed dragon slowed down to walk next to his youngest mate, grasping his shoulder so softly with such care it tanked my mood even further. The onslaught of negative emotions lessened, and only then I caught onto the fact that he was monitoring our interaction through Jungkook this whole time exactly to help out with situations like this.

I felt like a hormonal teenager, every minute going through a different emotion and trying to stabilise myself while everything constantly turned and danced around me, making me dizzy. The cloud of shame and sadness hung over me, and I desperately tried to reel it in as to not drag my bonded down with me, further making me feel like I was losing my mind.

In the split second a wild thought slipped through – that maybe this was all wrong, maybe trying to be closer to Jungkook was a bad idea, because in that moment I wanted nothing more than to turn around and run away from his tender open heart, nothing more than to shut it all out and not feel anything anymore, to tear that bond out of my chest and walk away.

I shunned it as quickly as it appeared, but the damage was done it seemed.

A pang of hurt shot through me hard enough to almost make me keel over – I grunted and fought to bring back my balance – and then there was nothing. Suddenly in the absence of the constant hum of another soul, I felt so terrifyingly empty I almost cried out.

When I realised what happened, I just pushed myself to continue walking and shut it out, ignoring everything in me that screamed to check on the dragon – even as I found myself strangely off kilter, like I suddenly lost a limb.

This was a damn mess, and all I really wanted in that moment was to pass out again and sleep for a whole month.

The rest of the walk was quiet and awkward, the two dragons keeping to themselves a few steps behind me while I trudged on feeling like an exposed nerve, a bleeding open wound, and the biggest piece of shit on this side of the continent.

Never thought I’d see the emperor’s lounge and let out a huge sigh of relief, but by the moment I realised we were almost by the ruby saloon I was so ready for it to be done I basically sprinted towards it. It was a bit of a gamble, just showing up here and hoping for the best, but the two times I saw the sovereign, it was always here so I figured it might be my best bet.

The stripes guarding the door took a single look at our group and one immediately slipped inside with a gentle knock. That was a good sign. The second guard didn’t really spare us any more attention, so we just stood there and waited to be let it, shuffling on our feet nervously.

Like it so often happened, my thoughts started racing around my head the instant I was left with no outward impulse to focus on, speeding around my brain and painfully bouncing off the walls. The whole scene during the bonding, especially my father screaming at me in front of the whole thunder, the feeling of embarrassment at being seen that way, the hurt and betrayal of his lack of care, the fact that the dragons now likely thought I was as much of an enemy as possible, the weight of the new bond and the wildness of my own emotions for the past few hours (days?), the emperor’s expectations and fearing the kind of game he wanted to play with me and the thunder, it all crashed into me in one moment of anxiety and despair. My heart quivered, and my knees and hands shook. All I could do was to force myself to stand there quietly instead of nervously pacing around like a madman.

I was terrified. I wanted to talk to someone, but I couldn’t – those who would understand still thought me an enemy, and those who were friendly didn’t have to understand.

Desperately I wanted to curl into a ball and hide away, I wanted to stand tall and I wanted to crumble, I wanted to fight and I wanted to run. I was closer to the hazy unpolished idea of rebellion I thought of when I was still a stubborn child, and yet I felt weaker and more incompetent than ever.

Everything that could go wrong weighted on me, all I still had to do and accomplish weighted on me, my own shortcomings and faults weighted on me. It was too much.

But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t give up, even if I died. I had to try.

The door opened very suddenly and tore me out of my troubled thoughts, the knight stepping out and wordlessly gesturing for me to come in. I took one last deep breath to stabilise myself and moved to enter when the guard abruptly shifted forward and threw out an arm.

“No dragons,” he said in a monotone, expression not changing an inch, and I turned around to see both their figures frozen mid step. The awkwardness that hung between us hit me full force again, and I only offered them a tight-lipped smile with a nod before I disappeared inside.

Perhaps not realising how late in the evening it was, I was shocked to see the emperor sitting alone in a completely empty room. Unlike the first time I was brought here with my father, the man was sitting leisurely on his golden red sofa and his eyes were already boring into me with a burning curiosity.

Kicking myself to remember all the proper pleasantries, I stepped to the edge of the carpet and went down to kneel, touching my head to the floor in the politest bow one could make. Squirming under his attention, I swallowed everything down and played my part.

“Greetings, our empire,” my voice was slightly muffled by being bent over like this and I spoke more into the ground than to the man, but I didn’t doubt he heard me – and even if he didn’t, he must have been greeted this way million times by now, “thank you for accepting my humble request for an audience.”

When I straightened again, there was that sleazy smile on the young man’s face I’ve seen a couple times before. I forced down the shudder of disgust that desperately wanted to run through me and took my time to curl my lips into a smile instead. To my boundless shock, instead of sending me to sit at one of the lower set sofas, the man gestured for me to join him on his little platform.

That… felt like a test. A test that could possibly have terrible consequences.

Standing up to my feet, I hesitated. I tried to guess what he wanted me to do from his face, but his expression was frozen in that same cunning grin. When maybe a minute of tense silence sped by, I finally took the step up towards him, and his smile melted into a satisfied smirk. I hated that so much.

Hesitantly and as slowly as I could I walked over to the other end of the sofa he currently occupied and sat down, watching his body language the whole time and trying to discern when I pushed a limit or crossed a line. Nothing happened though, and the young sovereign instead leant forward to offer me a cup of tea.

I took it wordlessly, almost on instinct, still too shocked to really comprehend what was happening here.

“Y/N, I am very pleased with your visit,” he started in a silken smooth voice. I imagined it worked quite well on people, especially women desperate to be noticed by the most powerful man in the empire, but I just felt my skin crawl with disgust. “I was hoping you’d come speak to me about how the situation is going forward.” I plastered a hopefully grateful smile on my face, pretended to be a little shy to avoid looking at him directly. He unsettled me, a lot. But if he wanted to do it this way, I’d match his energy word for word.

“I came to thank you, your majesty,” I spoke softly, just like a polite well-mannered noble daughter would, “I am very grateful for your special request to accommodate me.” I was thinking what more to say, but the man was already opening his mouth to speak more, so I let him. He clearly liked the sound of his own voice, so why ruin it for him?

“A bond like yours deserves special attention,” the honey in his voice was grating on my nerves, so I just played with my cup of tea and timidly sipped on it to stop myself from scowling, “It doesn’t happen very often. I admit, at first I found your behaviour during the ceremony very strange, but when General Kang and the fire dragon came to explain it I thought it was the most exciting news.”

The man fully turned to me and I was forced to look at him, since he clearly commanded my attention. The flickering light of the magick lamps brought out the shadows in his eyes, making him seem like an eager predator when he leant towards me with a sharp smile full of teeth.

“I’d like you to keep me updated on how your relationship with the thunder goes,” his voice turned almost too sweetly and tender, confirming he thought me to be an empty-headed young girl yearning for his approval, so I took it in stride. At least I didn’t really have to fear of going too far with him, he must have been used to people trying to sleaze their way into his favour.

Coyly I tucked some of my unruly hair behind my ear, trying my best to gaze at him with eyes full of stars. My stomach rolled, and my heart beat so fast I was worried I might throw up right into his lap, but I held myself together with the last pieces of sanity I had left.

“It would be my honour, your majesty,” it was all pointless pandering, but the emperor seemed to buy I was genuinely doing that – his expression stayed the same, it didn’t flicker with annoyance or disgust, it didn’t light up, he watched me with the same calculative eyes. I hoped he didn’t see the same mirrored in mine. Or if he did, I hoped he thought I was after a ring on my finger and nothing more.

What else could a woman want, after all.

His strange obsession over me getting closer to the whole thunder also wasn’t lost on me, and as unusual as that was, I had an inkling he’d soon start revealing more of his cards. He clearly had a goal in mind – I saw it all there in him, in the way he watched me. He wouldn’t wait forever for it to be realised, he’d hint at what he expected me to do sooner rather than later.

“As you granted me, I have already moved into the house,” I spoke again after a momentary lull in conversation, keeping my voice sweet and soft, “I took the old servant dwelling, as it of course isn’t appropriate for a young unmarried woman to live with a group of male dragons.” Making sure to put the emphasis on the words young and unmarried, I kept an eye on his reaction, almost holding my breath.

Come on, buy it, don’t ask questions please!!

A shadow passed over his eyes momentarily, but then he was politely chuckling along. “Well, of course, I didn’t even think of that,” he said smoothly, and something in his posture just didn’t seem quite right to me, “How very silly of me, of course a young noblewoman shouldn’t be sharing living quarters with such unruly characters. Dragons cannot be trusted in these matters, after all – they’re wild beasts.”

The smile I kept on my face with sheer force of will twitched at those words, but I immediately leant in to agree, thanking him of thinking of my virtue. For the first time since I walked in the man seemed a little off, and as I watched him he almost looked upset about me not living closer to them. Like he was fully expecting me to just move straight into Jungkook’s room.

Wait a minute.

Every thought in my head screeched to a halt. Could it be that people truly believed we were entangled as more than just a rider and his dragon? Did he think he was doing me a favour with this? We’ve known each other for barely a little over a week, and almost three of those days I lay unconscious in the infirmary!

This time when the sovereign smiled at me, I didn’t even have to fake being a blushing mess, because what the actual fuck. God, what a mess.

“The others have already reported to your superior at the Academy, so I suggest you do that first thing tomorrow morning,” he continued talking, not caring for my embarrassed silence at all, “This year’s novices are in the care of General Wang, so seek him out in the barracks. He’ll give you your uniform and show you around. Tell him they’re my orders, special for the youngest Kang.” A sly grin made itself home on his thin lips, and I felt the hair at the back of my neck rise. He wanted me to swoon, but I couldn’t force myself to sell that properly.

Bowing as much as I could while sitting, I told him in response: “Once again, I offer my humble thanks, your majesty.”

A hand suddenly grasped mine, making me flinch slightly. The emperor chuckled at my reaction, chalking it up to being shy around him, and his grip on me tightened as he leant forward, until all I saw was his beautiful cold face and fiery cruel eyes.

“No need for such formalities between the two of us, please do call me by my name when it’s just us,” the words were whispered almost coquettishly, and for few terrifying moments I feared he might actually be interested in fucking me to get something out of keeping me loyal, “Not many have the honour to do that.”

Keeping my eyes lowered, I felt the pressure behind them, lips almost twisting in a grimace as I simply whispered back “if your majesty insists…”. His hand was still tightly holding mine, and he was so close that when he chuckled this time I felt it hitting my skin.

“Not your majesty,” he playfully chided me, and his skin on mine felt both scalding hot and freezing cold, making me shudder. The instinct to tear out of his hold and put space between us almost made me jerk away. With deep breaths I grounded myself and went along. It was revolting, truly revolting – his touch felt like the worst kind of a brand.

“Yes, K-Kangdae-ssi…” it was hard to get the name through my lips, like every cell in my body knew it was forbidden, but the man let out a pleased hum and finally pulled away. The moment his oppressing aura shifted back, it was like a boulder fell off my shoulders and I straightened in relief.

Yi Kangdae. It was a name everyone in the country knew, but no one said out loud. It was etched into murals around the castle, written into history books and documents, carved into despair and calamities, branded onto his loyal followers. It was left behind in bloody wounds of fallen soldiers and cried out in prayers of grieving mothers and wives. Just like the names of his father, and his father before, and his father before.

It carried a weight with it that had nothing to do with his position of power, and it tasted like ash on my tongue.

The man himself sat unbothered on his half of the sofa we shared and watched me with a sort of lazy satisfaction, like someone that knew whatever they wanted they would get.

“Isn’t that much more comfortable, Y/N-ssi?” he taunts again, darkness spilling into his gaze as if he was subtly warning me, so I quickly bent to his will. Nodding and smiling, playing, acting, selling.

“We’ll see each other a lot anyway,” were his final words, an order hidden between them. Bow to me, worship me, obey me. So I did.

When his hand gestured that I was free to go, I stood up and bowed to him again, keeping myself at ninety degrees for a few moments before I rose again. An acidic lump sat at the bottom of my stomach, searing through the sensitive tissue.

In a daze I walked back, only to be stopped by his voice once I was by the door.

“Y/N. Call in the fire dragon, I want to speak with him.” I half turned with an unsure smile on my face, doing a quick bow once more before walking out.

My stomach was boiling with nervosity as I saw the two dragons leaning on a windowsill directly across the door. Both of them had sombre expressions on their faces and both of them jerked in my direction when they heard the door open and close. Jungkook’s youthful face wasn’t made for the frown that resided on it currently. It felt wrong for him to be anything but his usual happy self, and I couldn’t help myself and beat myself up once again for being so harsh earlier.

His bond was still dead and quiet in my chest, and now that I saw him again I was poignantly aware of the missing piece – of the black empty hole consuming me from the inside.

Before either of the dragons could say anything, I gestured to the door with a troubled look on my face.

“Namjoon-ssi, his majesty wishes to speak to you..” I surprised myself that the words weren’t spoken in a whisper, but they came out wobbly nonetheless – not that the dragon commented on that. He simply nodded and without a word walked to the door, disappearing inside instantly.

When I was left standing there alone with Jungkook, only the stripes guards tensely standing by the entrance into the lounge, I found myself squirming and shuffling from foot to foot. The young dragon’s gaze was trained on me, almost sheepish, as if he feared I wouldn’t take kindly to his attention. Unsure of where he stood now, after what he must have perceived as a sort of a rejection. Giving myself one last mental slap I walked towards him, slinking in like a misbehaving dog.

I felt the questions in his gaze when I leant on the cold stone closer to him than necessary, ignoring all that empty space left behind by the huge fire dragon. I came as close as I could without brushing our arms together, but it was enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him. I found myself enveloped in a heavy scent of burning wood and stone and metal, for the first time taking the time to realise that it was Jungkook’s natural smell – something I had no chance of catching onto before the bonding, but now so aware of it I felt singed with it. He smelt like smoky sandalwood, iron and gunpowder – powerful and heavy, but with a calming tone. It rushed through my lungs like opium smoke, pulling me into a haze like I’ve never felt before.

The gravity of the discovery instinctively pulled me closer until my nose almost bumped into the bewildered dragon’s shoulder so I could take a closer sniff, and with embarrassment colouring my cheeks red I jerked back.

Clearing my throat, I sat straight and kneaded my hands on my thighs to get rid of the sweaty clammy feel.

“Sorry,” I muttered quietly, taking the chance to send an apologetic smile to the dragon, and catching his shy but sparkling eyes. He still hesitated on whether to get close or not, lips pulled down at the corners with emotion only he felt, now that his side of the bond shut down.

“Don’t worry about it,” came his hushed response, though more eager than mine, “your scent is heightened too, now.”

“Oh,” well, that certainly caught my attention, and I turned to him fully, “and what do I smell like?”

He pursed his lips for a moment, the cogs in his head turning so obviously I almost laughed at him as he attempted to come up with a good analogy.

“I don’t really know, haven’t figured it out yet,” the dragon finally admitted, “it changes a lot, but it’s really earthy with a hint of flowers. Maybe like a freshly dug flower bed?”

That was… peculiar. Dirt and flowers? I guess it was quite fitting, but still – not very a ladylike scent, was it?

“Wait… what do you mean it changes? Do I smell differently each day?” I inquired more, trying to subtly take a whiff of my own body odour, but I didn’t really smell anything special. I smelled like the hospital I woke up in, and there was a residue of a sharp tang of magick on me that smelled vaguely like damp moss. That must have been Hoseok. My clothes smelled clean but slept in. Nothing more.

“You can’t really smell your own scent, not like this at least,” Jungkook chuckled as he watched me, “and technically yes, scent changes – but not drastically. It’s usually about the emotions. The heavier the emotion, the heavier the scent. Usually.” I blushed and stopped sniffing my own arms like a maniac, and instead leant in to Jungkook again.

And he was right – this time his scent was much more mellow, more like sandalwood incense with sharp metallic undertones. It was a fascinating mix, so much so that the red hue on my cheeks was now solely due to that.

“When can you smell your own scent?” I tried to distract both of us from my own flustered state, so I inquired more. Jungkook still giggled at me though, and mischief glinted in his eyes – and they were so alive, it robbed me of my breath.

“Uh… well- certain emotions are bigger and stronger than others,” the young dragon started talking, hand on his chin like he was a philosopher, eyebrows pinched together as he seemed to be deliberating on how to present this information to me, though everything about him felt a touch too whimsical to take seriously, “you know, like anger. You can smell your anger, because your scent starts like… soaking into the air around you, I guess? It becomes really heavy and tangible for everyone, basically.”

I hummed in answer, nodding along as what he told me slowly sunk in. We both leant back into the cold stone windowsill, now more comfortable than before – like the ice has been broken with this simple small talk. Jungkook was too forgiving, truly. With my heart squeezing painfully in my chest, I thought to myself that if I didn’t mention the earlier upset, he’d probably just let it go and act normally when I did too.

And that was absolutely unacceptable.

Namjoon was still inside with the emperor, though to us it no doubt felt much longer than it truly was, and the hallway was empty – safe for those two guards. I’d feel too uncomfortable trying to talk this out with him in front of others, not only because I didn’t like the idea of them hearing me discuss such a vulnerable thing with someone, but also because gossip spread like fire and I didn’t want people to start talking even more about the friendship I’d like to start building with him. It wasn’t really customary for humans to be so sweet with dragons, and it drew too much attention when someone broke that unspoken rule. There were already too many eyes on us due to my family’s name, the Bangtan name and the emperor’s involvement, and for now it’d be easier and safer to try and fly under the radar (no pun intended).

So with that in mind I squirmed on my spot to dispel the unpleasant feeling of cold stone seeping into my robes, and reached out to the link binding us together again. It was still too quiet inside me, and no matter how Jungkook’s constant chatter of emotions and thought overwhelmed me at times, in those few hours I’ve had the bond it already sunk its roots into the deepest parts of me.

Now that I knew what rhythm Jungkook’s heart beat to, the absence was even more obviously felt.

The string hummed and quivered under my careful attention, a bit of hopeful warmth spreading in. The dragon shuffled in surprise, but other than turning to me to give me a shy smile he didn’t acknowledge me reaching out to him.

‘Jungkook’. The thought was so loud and clear in my mind, that I’d never doubt it’s ability to cross over, but the slight blush on the man’s face was a nice sign too. ‘I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for before’.

I was given a beautiful blinding smile in return, so bright I felt like I was standing in that gazebo soaking in the moon’s blessed light again. In a swirl the full force of the bond swooped in, million thoughts going around our minds as we shared a conspiratory smile.

‘There’s nothing to apologise for’, came Jungkook’s response, the thought beating to the forefront with the tenacity of his strong heart. I was just about to shake my head when he continued. ‘The hyungs keep telling me I’m overwhelming you, I should be the one saying sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in your mind without a warning’.

My heart squeezed at his earnestness, and I couldn’t quite stop myself from reaching out and grabbing onto his arm gently.

‘No, Jungkook. It’s just… It will take time for me to get used to someone else sensing all of my thoughts and emotions. I’ve never been this open to anyone. I was just… scared’. And Jungkook, as open and easy-going as always, accepted what I offered with no questions asked. It was almost scary how eager he was when it came to any kind of love and affection, and for the first time I fully understood the thunder’s desperate need to shelter him away from all of this. From me, and from the emperor.

‘I don’t even remember what it’s like to not hear and feel my mates, but I understand it’s new to you. Don’t worry Y/N, we’ll get through this together – us, with the thunder.’ I hoped I managed to hide away the note of sourness that tinged my emotions at his boundless optimism, but I had the inkling that he wouldn’t care either way.

Jungkook just seemed like a person that willed things into existence – he expected them to happen a certain way, so of course they would. In the time I’ve known him (and it felt like ages already), he hasn’t expressed a single doubt about any of his ideas not realising in the end.

He wanted me and the thunder to be friendly, a big family, so it would end up coming true – wouldn’t it?

It was quite charming, to tell the truth. He had a way of swaying you into believing it too, like his enthusiasm was irresistibly contagious.

When I failed to respond to him, the dragon took it as a sign to continue soothing my frayed nerves. ‘You’ll come to enjoy the feeling of having the bond with you. And I promise – I never want to pry into you, nor make you uncomfortable, but the bond is there so we can rely on each other. Rely on me. Trust our instincts.’

Our instincts. There was something so incredibly straightforward and simple about that. Us. For me, there’s never been an us. Maybe when I was younger, but that was long gone.

Jungkook had no reason to manipulate me or betray me, but his presence in the deepest parts of my psyche still unnerved me. I’ve never realised the bond would be quite so encompassing – not to the point where I almost felt his life force running through my veins and my chest ached when I couldn’t sense him. And it was just mere hours!

‘Okay. But you need to teach me how to keep my bond under control too. I must be wrecking you too.’

To that Jungkook gave me a toothy grin and bumped our shoulders together. The amicable contact sent a flurry of embers through my body, something heavy flickering in and out of existence in my chest before all at once a soothing calm settled over me.

“W-What is that?” I stuttered out in surprise, cheeks a soft pink colour. The shock of the pleasant sensation pushed me out of our telepathic communication and pushed the words straight out of my mouth.

At least Jungkook was looking similarly flushed, grin lopsided and cheeky but with a bit of shyness. “Hyungs mentioned…,” he started, squirming in his place a little bit, “physical contact helps settle the bond.”

Just like before my interest was piqued – after all, I didn’t know much about the inner workings of the bonds, but just as I was about to open my mouth and fire more questions out, the ruby saloon’s door opened and Namjoon walked out. He looked tired, holding himself straight but with a heavy weight on his shoulders, constantly pulling him down. He took one single look at the two of us sitting close, cheeks rosy, and a very brief flash of something pained crossed his eyes.

I jerked under the load of that, but even then I couldn’t find it in myself to unstick from the young dragon – like everything in me was protesting even the mere idea of being separated from my bonded.

The fire dragon only sighed and slowly trudged towards us before gesturing with his chin to leave. So we did.

Namjoon went first, as he always did, and me and Jungkook fell into a comfortable pace behind him, arms linked at our elbows. The little fuzzy warm ball of light was serenely floating around inside me, almost like a napping lounging cat lazing in the afternoon sun. When I reached in to lightly caress it, it responded with a burst of peaceful hum – the bond hasn’t been this calm in my chest since I woke up – even since it took hold in me.

I still felt Jungkook’s consciousness gently probing along the edges of mind, and even though I could sense my metaphorical hackles of discomfort rising in alarm, our cores buzzed in harmony and felt too tranquil for me to panic too much about it.

‘Jungkook.’ The dragon looked to me questioningly, but inclined his head to signal he was listening.

‘Please promise me, that whatever you feel or see inside me, you won’t ask questions.’

‘Why?’ His gaze was warm and curious, gently inquisitive – youthful. But then it melted away into understanding. ‘I’ll promise not to ask, if you promise you’ll tell me when it’s time to know.’

Namjoon’s tense form moved steadily forward in front of us, shoulders almost all the way up to his ears, and I wondered whether he was monitoring Jungkook’s emotions again. And if he did, I wondered how he felt about the amusement that flooded me when he heard my soft snickering.

‘Fine, that’s unfortunately fair.’

The moment I looked to the side my good spirits evaporated within a moment though. Jungkook immediately pulled me closer to himself, and I could imagine his vigilant gaze tracking across our surroundings, ready to pinpoint any kind of danger I could be reacting to.

That wasn’t what had me on pins and needles though.

We’ve walked over to the side of the castle that left behind dark towering halls and corridors, and opened up into more stone and flower decorated courtyards with roofed walkways. This part was closer to the barracks and the Academy grounds, and scholars and councilmen gave way to uniform-clad knights.

And there, as we were passing by towards the castle gates closer to the dragons’ house, a group of Academy students was walking through the courtyard on the opposite side to us. Their affiliation was very clear even without any other clues – their dark cheolliks embroidered with the likeness of a dragon beast and tied with greenish blue sashes – but I still wouldn’t be able to not recognise the ever so smug smirking man by one of the knights’ sides.

Fucking Peacock.

I didn’t recognise the rest of the students, but they sure did recognise me. The moment they saw me and Jungkook walking arm in arm with Namjoon leading the way, their faces scrunched up in a rich variable of emotions. I saw distaste and envy. I saw mockery. The usual mixture.

My classmate was speaking to a knightess I’ve never seen before, but based on their uniforms they must have been some of the upperclassmen. Those two were leaning close together, their shiny hostile eyes trained onto our moving forms, lips curled into snide smirks.

I’ve long since realised that the only way to get through situations like this was to ignore everything, so I just turned back to my companions ready to leave this behind us. What other people thought of me and what rumours they spread around about me was of no concern to me, and I didn’t care one bit about it.

The dragons seemed to have a different idea though. When I looked back towards them, I saw that even Namjoon’s gaze was locked on the now snickering students as they kept walking away from us. As I could have predicted, Jungkook’s face was coloured with anger and displeasure, but why Namjoon looked so disgruntled was beyond me.

The golden dragon’s ears were twitching, like he was used to them having a different shape, and I realised he most likely heard their conversation.

Which meant… there was a chance I could hear them too.

I wasn’t fully sure what to do – I did remember having heightened senses overwhelmed me slightly in the infirmary, but since then it was like everything went back to normal. Thankfully, our pace slowed down considerably due to the distraction, so I had the mental capacity to really lean into it and focus as hard as I could on trying to catch their venomous whispers.

“…riding too seriously…” A bout of giggles disrupted the sentence and I got lost again. With how quickly they were heading in the other direction, it was harder to listen in.

“…daddy gets his princess what she wants…” There was more laughter, and I rolled my eyes. As if I haven’t heard that one thousand times before. If they only fucking knew what my father was like.

“Didn’t expect her to spread her legs for the whole thunder-“ And with that they rounded the corner and disappeared deeper into the gardens, presumably in the direction of either the barracks or the training grounds.

I looked towards Namjoon with flaming cheeks, but the dragon just seemed very displeased. Even Jungkook looked more angry than embarrassed, which I wasn’t expecting.

For the rest of the journey back to the house no one said anything. I wondered whether Namjoon, now freshly discovering this very unpleasant side-effect of being associated with our family, regretted everything even more. I wondered what Jungkook thought of such rumours being spread around about his loved ones, but he himself gave me no more signs of anything being wrong – didn’t let go of my arm, didn’t shut off his bond again, and didn’t let through even a sliver of displeasure.

The second dinner I’ve had at the dragons’ house was no less uncomfortable and tense than the first one, but it did seem that some of them were a bit more positively minded towards me.

The moment we returned to the townhouse, me and Jungkook jumped into moving my things into the servant’s house with the help of Hoseok – and surprisingly Taehyung, who insisted on assisting us with anything we’d need.

Somewhere along the way Jungkook wormed his way back into my mind, speaking to me constantly in an eager chirp, chatting off about anything that came to mind. I felt a bit bad for the other two dragons who had to watch us as we silently talked about horses and vegetables and whatever else that came to Jungkook’s mind, but they were likely doing the same thing through their own bond. And, unexpectedly, both of them wore quite genuine smiles on their faces as they hauled boxes and chests filled with my essentials.

I don’t know how exactly it happened, but in the time it took us to settle me into that little room, Jungkook managed to persuade me into tagging along with him in some old forgotten tradition his hyungs told him about long time ago. Understandably, I was quite hesitant at first – the thunder leader still winced whenever ‘Authority’ fell out of my mouth, though he tried to hide it, so I wasn’t quite sure it would exactly be appreciated.

But Jungkook was nothing if not excited and impossible to reject, so I ended up caving in just in time for the dinner to start. Damn his beautiful, wet, sparkling eyes.

Just walk in by my side and kneel to Namjoon hyung, he said as he ran off to help Seokjin with dishes. He’ll welcome you into the thunder. Right.

Yeah, well, easier said than done, now that I was actually walking into the room with the jittery excited Jungkook basically vibrating next to me, seeing the whole thunder sitting around the dinner table on their pillows, in the same order as last time. Their gazes were on us, some confused and questioning, some calm and expecting.

When Jungkook kneeled, it was met with soft and fond looks. When I followed him down, the room suddenly felt colder.

Jin sat straight in his spot, a neutral expression on his face. He didn’t seem neither displeased not appeased. Yoongi on the other hand turned his head away from the display as soon as he realised what we were doing. That one stung. But not as much as Namjoon, who was desperately trying to look anywhere but us without making it immediately obvious to the excited Jungkook. When our eyes met, it almost seemed like it hurt him to even see me.

After that I didn’t gather enough courage to look at the others and instead hung my head down low in a proper bow. A few more moments of silence went by, and judging by Jungkook’s warm purring happiness spilling everywhere out of his core, he didn’t interpret the atmosphere to be quite as tense as I did.

“Thank you, sihe,” finally Namjoon’s voice cut through the room, putting everyone involved out of their misery, “Come take a seat at the table and eat.” The word was unfamiliar to me, though there was no doubt it was draconic. It rolled off the dragon’s tongue smoothly, in his deep voice it almost sounded like a purr, and I could see that Jungkook especially liked to hear his leader call me such; so assuming it wasn’t anything bad, I didn’t pry more.

The young dragon rose from his position to sit at the table, chest puffed out and cheeks rosy with some emotion I couldn’t fully discern. I followed after him, significantly more sluggish and ready to call it a day.

This time around when I sat down next to Taehyung, there was no trace of his previous apprehension. When I looked to him, he smiled and gestured towards the spread of food that smelled absolutely delicious. Seokjin also gave me a polite but warm smile and began eating.

When I reached back towards the memory of the first dinner I spent here, merely a week ago, I couldn’t even remember what it was we ate. Tonight a pot full of hearty stew sat in the middle of the table, and I didn’t even know how much I needed it until the first spoonful hit me and spread the pleasant kind of heavy warmth through my being. By the time I ate a whole bowl, I was ready to curl up and fall asleep right there on the floor by the table.

The dragons kept up a sparse but polite chatter, but unlike the last time I didn’t join in. No one spoke to me, and just for that evening I basked in their insistence on ignoring me. For once I found a bit of relief in not getting their attention – because then it meant I wasn’t actively pissing them off either, and I figured all of us needed a break after everything that’s been happening.

When it was all over, I was just about ready to slink off into my little house and sleep for a whole century. Trying to disappear as inconspicuously as possible, I was promptly stopped by Seokjin’s voice calling my name. He said it so softly I almost missed it, but when I whipped around in surprise the pink-haired man was already gesturing for me to follow after him.

Jungkook was running after Namjoon basically as soon as his spoon dropped from his hand, something proud and eager glinting in his eyes, so I rather left them to it and quietly jogged after the eldest dragon. Seokjin swiftly made his way over into the kitchen, which was still covered in mess from when he cooked – utensils and dishes were laid out everywhere, cutoffs from vegetables were sitting in a bowl on a table, the remaining stew sat in a pot in the middle of the room. A few magickal lanterns were fighting to keep the room alight, the shadows flickering around the room with the dying strands of their energy.

Seokjin danced into the room like a storm, immediately grabbing a basket and strutting right out, leaving me stood there in the middle of the room gaping. Just seconds later Taehyung leisurely walked in, taking slow deliberate steps and watching me with deep icy blue eyes.

I thought back to earlier that afternoon, how his gaze locked me into place and penetrated deep into my soul. How I felt drawn to him, and how I almost choked on his flowery scent. As my gaze slid across the man (much like he did to me), I couldn’t help but ponder what exactly his powers entailed.

Unlike the other dragons, I couldn’t outwardly see any draconic features – except for his blueish grey eyes and ethereal beauty. He didn’t have any scales anywhere like Jimin, didn’t have horns like Hoseok, Jungkook or Yoongi, his eyes didn’t even flash silver or glow like Namjoon’s golden ones did. His gaze was always inquisitive and he didn’t speak much, but somehow had an aura of someone who always knew what you were thinking deep down. Or like you’d want to tell him anyway, no matter what – as long as he wanted it.

It was unsettling. Taehyung was putting me kind of on edge, but he was also one of the two dragons who seemed to want to be friendly with me, so whatever it was I was grateful to him anyway.

Even if it seemed slightly sinister.

Taehyung’s stare felt just as weighted on me as the dragon circled around the room seemingly inconspicuously before his neutral cold exterior melted into a cheeky smile and he took a seat by one of the sliding doors leading out into the yard.

I didn’t really even have the chance to feel the thickness of the silence when the pink dragon waltzed back in, basket now full of dirty dishes. Jimin trailed in behind him, pot of uneaten stew in hands. The water dragon didn’t spare me much but an unsure glance, set the stew down on the floor and with a quick snap of his fingers a wooden basin that Seokjin suddenly pulled out of nowhere started filling with water.

For a split second I got pulled into that dark glistening surface – the darkness and calm I felt during that cleansing, the voice speaking to me, the water filling my lungs and constricting my throat, and Jimin there, looking back at me in the mirror of my mind – and then I pulled back again. I wasn’t insane enough to think the Moon Goddess was going to talk to me through the kitchen dish washing tub. Yet.

But I did discreetly shuffle further away from it with my shaking hands seeking support at one of the wooden tables – not that anyone cared. Taehyung has found himself a bag of potatoes and was peeling them all by himself in his corner, not paying attention to anything else. I heard Seokjin’s half-hearted grumbled complaints with which he was teasing the already walking away Jimin. The tub sat on the floor, the water looking at me with a hungry spark.

“Have you never washed the dishes?” Seokjin’s question came at me half serious, half teasing – I mean, even if he did want to play around, in his mind the chances I ever did anything with my own two hands must have been pretty low. I jerked, whipping my eyes into his warm greyish silver ones. His leathery wings were twitching behind his back, probably dying to spread out more, but the man kept them firmly pressed to himself. “You’re watching it like it’s about to eat you.”

Now I felt Taehyung’s curious eyes on me too, though I still heard him as he worked on the vegetables. In two strides I reached the older dragon’s side and grabbed the washing sponge and lavender smelling soap.

“I did,” I answered him simply, shooting him a quick smile, “Even if I missed it at home – which I didn’t – I went through military.” Seokjin pulled two low wooden stools towards us with a quick flick of his wrist, the furniture flying through air with an elegant arch and landing right under me.

“What, they let the general’s daughter dirty her hands?” the pink dragon teased more, a mischievous smile pulling at his lips. He sat down while I still processed the quick magick he showcased, before I slowly slid down and started on the ceramic bowls. Normally jabs like that were the quickest way to anger me, but for some reason I didn’t mind Seokjin’s light joking tone.

He didn’t seem malicious, just interested. And after the fiasco at the dinner, that was better than I was hoping for.

“Well, everybody has to help around the barracks, though you can buy your way around it,” I admitted freely, knowing there’s no reason to lie about such things (my father would never waste money on me like that anyway, so it’s not like I was ever exempt), “but it’s mostly just a popular way to punish someone for minor misdeeds, as were most of the cleaning duties. I spent a lot of time mopping the floors while on the mother base.” A wry smile made its way on my face, the tenseness in my shoulders melting away as we fell into a rhythm.

“A trouble-maker, huh? No wonder you bonded our Kookie,” Seokjin muttered softly in response, eyes locked on his hands. I honestly wasn’t sure if he expected me to respond – if those words were even aimed at me, but the dragon quickly shook the melancholic expression off and smirked again.

“Had my bouts of misbehaving,” I grumbled back, cheeks pink as the older dragon’s eyes glinted with humour. But then he suddenly turned serious, and all my peace was thrown right out the window Taehyung was sitting by.

“The bowing ceremony, tiichir,” the draconic word rolled off Seokjin’s tongue in a similar purr-like hiss like Namjoon did before, and once again I found myself quite enthralled at the language that was so rarely heard anymore. So enthralled in fact, that I almost forgot to shit bricks at the mention of the ceremony. “Did your teacher teach you that as well?”

“Uhh- no, actually,” the confused answer spilled out of me almost unconsciously. Seokjin’s demeanour was so tranquil, the tone of his voice so conversational, and I realised too late it was most likely on purpose so that I felt comfortable talking to him about things he truly wanted to know. I sighed in disappointment a little, but really – what was there to do?

At least he was nice about it.

“Actually, Jungkook told me about it. He said he knows it from your stories and always wanted to do it with his bonded too.” Seokjin’s eyebrow twitched, but otherwise he stayed perfectly inviting. From the corner the sounds of Taehyung peeling vegetables were the only reminders of his presence.

“I see, so he did.” The older dragon’s tone was almost too kindly, and I had a feeling Jungkook would get a huge dressing down later. Though, good luck trying to scold him when he’s looking at you with those begging eyes and talking about how much he loved it. I fell in the same trap and look where it got me.

“Y/N,” the sudden appearance of my name out of Seokjin’s mouth startled me enough to flinch in my spot, “I will come clean, as I dislike not being straightforward. I have to admit, I’m very curious about your teacher – because I’m very curious about the kind of dragon that spends his summers teaching a random human child olden dragon customs. Are you sure his name is Hwan?”

I just stared at him, hands frozen in my spot, clutching onto a half-washed fork. Based on his body language, he didn’t seem to be angry – he looked quite relaxed actually, and there was an open expression on his face. But something about the way he worded the sentence just rubbed me wrong. Maybe it was because I already got Hwan into trouble once by being a tattle-mouth, but I struggled to let go of my fear that there was still a way I could bring ire on his head, even though I didn’t even know where he currently was. Or if he even lived.

“Based on what he taught you, he could have been a zriha once upon a time, but that would make him quite old,” the pink-haired dragon continued, hands still diligently working in the sudd covered tub not caring at all that mine stopped.

“I-I have no idea what that word means,” I absent-mindedly stuttered out in response, clutching onto the first straw I could catch. A sharp grin that sent goosebumps down my back split the handsome man’s face, and it was the first time I saw him look a touch less polite and friendly.

“It’s not yours to know,” a clear warning laced his cheery voice, so I immediately left it alone.

I looked at him for a moment, at his expectant gaze. At the wings stretching and folding continuously behind his back as he tried to make himself comfortable on the little stool. He was a little too tall for it, I belatedly realised. His wide shoulders almost hid Taehyung from me at this angle, but I still saw the way his eyes turned to me every few seconds, waiting.

“He said his name was Hwan. That’s what he went by and that’s how he introduced himself to me,” I said finally, sighing and forcing my hands back into motion. There weren’t many dishes left and I reached for one of the last plates. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Taehyung frowning, gaze clouded with deep thought.

Seokjin sat still for a few seconds, watching me patiently, and I forced myself to look back until he stared his fill and felt satisfied with my answer. Then he nodded and smiled, his usual kindly way, and got up to start putting away the clean wet dishes.

Even though I squirmed in discomfort in my seat, the atmosphere didn’t change after our conversation. There was no heavy tense silence, no mistrustful or hostile glances. Just Seokjin humming to himself while he flitted around the room, wings fluttering with the movement, and Taehyung staring straight down into my soul with wide interested eyes.

Maybe they knew – that I was lying to them. At that point in time, it didn’t really matter.

Once I was let free of the cleaning duty, I ran away from the room as fast as I could get away without actually sprinting out. The ground floor and the courtyard seemed to be quiet and empty, and I aimlessly wandered around for a few moments, unseeing eyes staring off into space.

Seokjin didn’t seem to be the type to just let things go easily, and seeing as he already brought up Hwan twice, it was safe to assume he’d try it again – until he got an answer that satisfied him. The problem was, I didn’t even know what kind of thing was Hwan embroiled in. It was almost twenty years ago, but even my child eyes could see that he and his bonded were running away from Wuyun as fast as they could.

Seokjin was in the capital at the time. For him it probably felt a lot shorter than two decades, and whatever went down here to make a dragon and his knight run away, he’d probably remember it.

But on the other hand – I chose Bangtan for a reason. I chose them knowing I’d have to come to a point where I’d trust them with anything. And Seokjin did seem like a trustworthy choice. But he also could be hiding an anger at his kin – for indulging an enemy too much, teaching them things they had no business knowing. None of the dragons seemed especially thrilled about me having such knowledge, and I did have to wonder whether Hwan broke some unspoken rule by teaching me things dragons didn’t want humans to know.

Until I was sure of where Seokjin’s curiosity came from, I’d hold onto the information just for a little longer.

I looked back towards the kitchen somewhat wistfully. Maybe I was approaching this whole thing from the wrong angle – maybe Seokjin was the answer when it came to my teacher. He must know details of his exile, he might even know where he fled. He might tell me.

But then I thought back to their pained angry eyes when I kneeled with Jungkook, and the memory stopped me.

All in due time. I swore to rely on Jungkook – and I hoped that would be the first step towards stable ground.

Taehyung found many things interesting. He’s always been like that – for as long as he knew Seokjin hyung, he always called him his curious cub. The hyungs always fed his curiosities with books and trinkets, and stories too. He also knew people found him strange.

Taehyung never chose to speak too much in front of others. His mates knew what he thought and felt through their soulties, and no one else really mattered. No one else had to be privy to what he was doing, or what he was thinking. People tended to believe that an absence of words meant absence of thought, but in reality Taehyung was just tired of constantly explaining himself to people who didn’t really care.

And it’s been centuries since he last found something as interesting as Jungkook’s young bonded.

There used to be times when Taehyung hated his gifts. The hearts and souls of living beings rarely showed anything worth seeing, and more often than not pushed the dragon away. Greed, anger, spite, violence. Walking through the banquets and halls and streets, Taehyung sensed all different mixtures of all different unpleasant things. It made him nauseous. It was all too much.

Jinnie-hyung always told him that he had too much of a gentle heart for this world, but Tae wasn’t sure if that was true. Gentle creatures couldn’t toy with others’ minds the way he could.

Though there were uses for his magick, ones that he learnt to appreciate.

And the moment he saw Jungkook’s bonded, he sensed that there was something different about her soul. Brought up by one of the cruellest men Taehyung’s had the displeasure of meeting, moulded into a soldier since a young age, she should have been steeped in the bitter taste of evil.

And she was, in a way. There was an air of violence around her, but just as much suffering.

Taehyung sensed every lie she told, and yet every time he looked at her, she shined with genuineness. She was shifty and suspicious, and yet every fibre of his being told him he could trust her. He’s never before met such an interesting contradiction.

He understood, of course he did, why his hyungs were so worried about everything, but he knew this human woman was right for Jungkook the moment he sensed her bleeding weeping heart breaking after the ceremony with her father.

And when he looked to the young dragon, he knew that Kookie felt the same way. And Jinnie was beginning to grasp it too.

Taehyung spent several days in fear before he met her for the first time. Everyone around him was so shaken, and their turbulent emotions pressed in on him in a way that suffocated him until he choked on the thick rivulets of their dread. During that time he tried consulting the Moon several times, but no visions of her future came to him, and that only spiralled him further.

When She refused him guidance, that’s how Taehyung knew something serious was unfolding right before his eyes. His Wol had humour like that, always gently tugging him along a trail of breadcrumbs but never revealing too much. She liked to see him try.

Taehyung had come to see it as having to prove himself worthy of his gifts – after all, she did bless him with magick heavy and dangerous. It was of utmost importance that he kept his sight clear.

And the first time he did see her, it truly was like everything in his inner eye cleared up. The human that everyone feared – a scared girl with a shining heart. No, there wasn’t a reason for the way Hobi hyung’s chest burned with acidic worry, or the way nauseating disgust rolled off of Yoongi hyung.

Minnie came to him four nights in a row, asking whether he’d already seen something, but then he stopped.

Taehyung didn’t tell him that his first vision came in during the night Jungkook spent with his heart quivering sitting next to an unconscious Y/N in the infirmary, and he woke up with such clarity he saw Hobi hyung watching him with a suspicious gaze for the rest of the day.

She would do something glorious, and the Moon wanted him to trust her.

Namjoon sat down in the study with a heavy sigh, looking at the table buried under mountains of papers, scrolls and old books and wanting nothing more than to bash his head right into it. Yoongi-hyung slinked into the room behind him, but so far the older dragon kept his silence, eyes hazy and far-away.

They ended up sitting there in gloomy silence until Jin-hyung walked in, hands all wrinkly from water, but expression surprisingly relaxed.

“It was Kookie who told her about tiichir, the poor cub was so excited about it he talked her into it,” he said immediately as the door shut behind him and leant against one of the sturdy bookcases.

The two other occupants pursed their lips, but the budding storm died off in their bloodstreams. Namjoon smelled the way Yoongi’s scent evened out, the electric tang dissipating from the room and making it easier to breathe in.

Jungkook had spoken to him just an half hour ago, running after him straight off the dinner table with pride puffing up his chest. Namjoon knew how important it was for the dragon to have a bond with all the proper proceedings, he always hung off of their every word when they spoke of how things used to work before the empire, but he wasn’t sure this was the right person to realise his fantasies with. He just wished the young man was a bit more careful and a bit less trusting.

Namjoon’s protective instincts were flaring up almost constantly these past few days which always left him on edge, pushing him to collect his youngest and pull him away from his foolishness, but the fire dragon himself was quite flabbergasted with Kookie’s behaviour.

Yes, he was someone that approached world and people with the same indiscriminate way of thought. He was friendly, sometimes a little too much. He wanted to trust the best in people, and tended to get a little naïve with certain dragons and young knights. But he’s never been foolish.

Jungkook was the one dragon in the thunder that rivalled Yoongi-hyung’s protectiveness and possessiveness. Those two could get kind of intense when triggered, and they had troubles letting anyone closer to their mates. Jungkook was fiercely competitive, and protected his hoard with almost crazed devotion. He once even bit Taehyung’s leg until it was bleeding because the red dragon thought it would be funny to mess with his gems.

So Namjoon just couldn’t comprehend how he could be so blindly chasing after this bond, completely unquestioningly assimilating this person into their midst and being so happy and satisfied about it. It just didn’t make sense for him.

He caught him almost scenting her outside the emperor’s lounge. That was no light matter.

The dragon sighed again, and this time he did lay his head down forehead first on the hard surface of the dark wood. Yoongi was still eerily quiet, but his heart spoke for him where it wreaked havoc in Namjoon’s own chest.

“The emperor wants us to train her,” Namjoon ended up mumbling. The dark-haired dragon’s head suddenly snapped towards him, as if those were the magic words to bring him out of his stupor.

“What do you mean? Isn’t the Academy there to do that?” Jin-hyung’s remark cut through the stagnant air, “All those teachers and generals there.” The pink-haired man scoffed and leaned back into the furniture.

“She is to attend general classes, but he wants the brunt of her training to be our responsibility,” the thunder leader reiterated, repeating the words he heard earlier that evening from the sovereign himself.

“Why in the hell is he isolating her with us so much?” Yoongi’s question was a valid one, but unfortunately Namjoon didn’t have an answer for it – even though he had an inkling. He only knew that the man was invested in her Qing Long career, and he’d be monitoring their lives very closely.

“Control,” Seokjin ended up biting out bitterly, “It’s about control. We can’t do anything if there’s a human attached to our every step, telling him everything we do.” And yes, Namjoon has been going towards that conclusion too.

“It’s most likely,” the fire dragon admitted, “We have to be very careful about what we do and say from now on. At least where she can see or hear.” Yoongi sighed, but as resigned as the sound was, Namjoon still could see the way his fingers jerked and cramped with barely concealed fury.

“It’s been a long time coming,” Jin-hyung muttered, as if that was supposed to help them calm down, “you know Kangdae has been very snippy lately about us not being monitored enough with the lack of riders in our thunder.” Namjoon looked to his oldest hyung and felt his heart thaw a little. Contrary to what the maknaes believed, he wasn’t fearless – in actuality he was afraid of most of everything, but it always was the light dragon that stood by his side and supported him when he needed it the most. He was no one without his Jin-hyung, and he’d gladly spend the rest of eternity loving the dragon.

But now, here in this room, none of them looked too happy about the circumstances (though nothing could rival the fury in the black-haired dragon’s eyes).

Jin-hyung, on the other hand, seemed to be almost a little too serene. Namjoon knew that concentrated look on his face. There was something brewing in him, something he knew he’d have to wait for the older dragon to share on his own terms.

But he noticed how inclined he seemed to be towards the human now. Same as Taehyung, who seemed to just accept everything that was happening and took it in stride almost terrifyingly easily.

Their safety lay on Namjoon’s shoulders – and he’d tear himself apart to make sure they stayed out of harm's way.

“Well,” finally Yoongi spoke, voice level but strained, “Nothing left for us but to play along. For now. When the opportunity strikes, if it’s necessary – I’ll deal with her.”

Series masterlist | Previous Part | Next part

Taglist pt. 1 (open): @stxrrielle @hobicakess @comicnerd557 @11thenightwemet11 @socksfirst1

@dachshunddame @channiespup @danielle143 @borahaetelevision @kingofbodyrolls

@jungshaking @futuristicenemychaos @ah2002 @tadomikiku @ambsv

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@authorpj @anjoellamorte @ami7-12bts @foreverddaeng @silscintilla

@canarystwin @ldysmfrst @nikkiordonez12 @mysteriousgeminizone @i-like-puppy-mg

@ttttt1re @xthefuckerysquaredx @crispynutella @asillyduck15 @icouldntcareless22

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notetakers-blog-of-holding · 4 months ago

Text

Adding Texture Into Your Campaign

What is Texture?

I'm talking about all of the little details that add up to create a complete description. Texture is the color of a sword's hilt, the sound of distant rumbling thunder, or the smell of baked pies as one passes through a village. It's knowing the reason why the villain is so villainous, and hinting at secrets that are never revealed. Everything that makes the world feel like a place where people live, rather than just an exercise in problem-solving.

Chances are, you already have some texture in your game. If you are running a pre-published adventure or world, there are almost certainly many little details that you normally don't see in your homebrew adventures. The goal is to add enough texture into your game so that your players won't notice the difference between a store-bought adventure and a homebrew.

I use the word "texture" for these details because for me, they are the difference between a flat, predictable description and one that is alive and vibrant. When adding details to your game, your goal should be to have enough volume so that the descriptions blur together into a patina of verbal imagery.

Texture cannot exist in a vacuum; if one part of an image has texture and the remainder does not, it will be obvious. Players should not be able to pick out what is important to their plot based on the level of detail in your description. For example, pretend your DM gave you the following description:

You enter the wizard's study. There are some bookcases, a desk, and a chair. There are books all over the place, and a single red quill pen, eight inches in length, stands in a brass pot of ink on the desk.

Nine out of ten players will go immediately for the pen. Why? Because it was the only item in the room truly given texture. The rest of the area was painted in only in the broadest of strokes. If the DM was trying to set that quill up as a clue of some kind, he has now robbed the players of the opportunity to discover that on their own. Now, consider the following alternative:

You enter the wizard's study. A musty smell fills the air, and swirls of dust follow you as you move. A pair of oak bookcases sit on opposite sides of the room, each filled with leather-bound tomes in assorted shades of brown. On the left bookcase, one shelf has broken, spilling its contents over the shelf below and onto the floor. A massive desk, at least seven feet in length, fills the center of the room, with dozens of tiny brass-handled drawers. A large book lies open on the desk, near a single red quill pen, eight inches in length, standing in a brass pot of ink.

The DM has given the exact same description of the pen, but has instead hidden its importance by giving detailed accounts of the room's furnishings. He knows that the only important clue in the room is the pen, but the players do not. Their actions will thus deal with the entirety of the room rather than the metagame thinking that would lead them to the pen. One might decide to check out the broken bookshelf, another might want to check the desk drawers. If they eventually look at the pen and discover its relevance, they will feel that much more of a sense of accomplishment.

This example also illustrates one of the key features of texture: it is most often irrelevant. In other words, if the players have a mission to accomplish, most of the texture you put into your descriptions will have no direct bearing on that mission. But that's the point; if I go to mail my phone bill, the fact that I pass a parked police car on the way to the mailbox isn't important. It does, however, tell me something about the immediate area and what might be going on there. This is why adding texture to your game creates the illusion of reality; you are basically giving players proof that the world is turning with or without them.

Here are 5 simple ways you can add texture to a room or character description:

Color: People spend a lot of energy making sure the things they own are a pleasing color. Anywhere intelligent beings live, there is the opportunity for changing the color of the walls, the doors, the furniture, the upholstery, the curtains, etc. Of course, natural settings can also have a bewildering variety of unexpected color. Why talk about a tree when you can talk about an ancient, grey-barked tree with green mossy overgrowth climbing its branches?

Brokenness: Things break, often. Whether they have been repaired or not is a good indicator to the players about the level of attention a room receives. How well they are fixed might also be a clue; if the bookshelf was propped up with another book but generally left broken, it says that the owner doesn't care too much.

Juryrigging: Spaces are often not used in the manner for which they were designed. People tend to adapt a room or object to the purpose they require, rather than the crafter's intent. This is especially true of dungeons, where the current inhabitants almost certainly did not build the place. Think about how they may have altered the room's purpose, and what changes they might have made as a result.

Bodily Functions: Living creatures need to eat, sleep, eliminate, and possibly mate. If you set up a monster's lair in a location where the occupant cannot realistically achieve all of these needs, it will be far less believable. Likewise, NPCs also need to fulfill these functions, and often at the worst possible time.

Scars: Creatures who are surviving in the wild or who fight regularly should be scarred, especially if they do not have access to healing magic. Scars hint at a story that the player's don't know; they imply that the creature has lived an entire life up to the point when it appears "on screen". An Owlbear with a jagged scar across its beak is more memorable, and perhaps more fearsome, than one without.

Those are just my opening thoughts on the subject. I'll be posting more examples of Campaign Texture in the future. In the meantime, dm me! I'd love to hear about descriptions from your campaign of which you are particularly proud of!

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revelboo · 9 months ago

Note

Heels(Starscream) always had a special place in my heart, but more as a comedy relief character, but damn, your writing has actually made me feel bad for/love that dude. XD

I was the same way at first, but then I kept wondering why he acts the way he does and, well, you can see what I made of his character in the end.

Everything is Alright Pt 31

Starscream x Reader-lost

• This is the right thing. It hurts too much to be anything else. Your little hands shift on his palms, as he keeps you caged. More so he doesn’t have to look at you than any worry of you falling. If you start asking questions his resolve is going to shatter. It’s already so thin it’s fraying at the edges, but that dream has dug its claws into him and won’t let go. Not a possible outcome, a maybe, but an inevitable one that he can’t allow and it’s tearing at his spark. One good thing just for him alone, but he isn’t even allowed that.

• He’s quiet except for the faint sound of his wings shifting in little fits and starts, that little tell giving away that as silent as he is, his mind is busy as you peek through the servos caging you. It’s the frown on his lips that snags you, though. Not like he’s displeased, but something else you can’t put your finger on. Something is bothering him. He was like this when he left for the day, and now that he’s back, his mood is even darker as he carries you. He’d brought you outside again, but not for stargazing and that sense of something being off pulls at you. “Star?”

• That affectionate, little nickname rings through him and he almost shutters his optics. Because that just makes this so much harder. Servos flexing against you as he studies the overcast sky before dropping his attention to you as the breeze stirs your hair when he opens his hands. In the distance, thunder rolls. “Quiet,” he says, trying to keep his tone all ice when he’s anything but. It’s still not too late to turn back. Carry you back home where you belong. Be selfish again, because he needs you. Your little hands shift on his servos as he moves out of the woods and up onto a road.

• Isn’t he afraid of being seen if someone drives this way? You look around at the empty stretch of road, feeling an uneasy sense of familiarity. You know exactly where you are. Your car’s gone, probably towed away, but this is where you went off the road. Your fingers lift to that healed gash as your heart begins to race. The tree branches overhanging the road are broken and ragged where his wings had clipped them, the road surface pocked from weapons fire. It seems like a lifetime ago. Why bring you back here? “Starscream, what’s going on?”

• You cling to his servos as he bends and lowers you to your feet, holding on as he pulls his hand away. He can’t look at you, not while you’re staring up at him in alarm. Like you don’t understand, even though you must. Wings lifting stiffly, he forces his expression to empty, reaching for that cold indifference that’s been his armor so long. “Go home, human.”

• Your throat goes dry as you look up at those icy optics staring down at you. There’s no contempt in that stare, no bemusement. Nothing at all. It’s utterly empty and that cuts you clean to the bone, because he doesn’t care at all. He’d finally gotten tired of you? It’s what you wanted, right? A chance to escape, but you just feel lost. And as he turns and walks away without a look back, you can’t move. He leaps, transforming into that jet and it’s beautiful to watch even as panic paralyzes you. A rain drop lands on your cheek, the thunder lost to the scream of his turbines, your own cry too late. “Star?"

Previous Next

#starscream x reader #idw starscream #transformers x reader

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majinbangus · 9 months ago

Text

"Sunshine, where you goin'?"

You're three steps out of the bar when you hear him calling over the light pitter patter of the rain. You turn around to see him standing in the threshold, keeping the door open with the low light of the bar streaming out behind him. He looks ethereal. Like some type of incorporeal vision as the background chatter of the bar leaks out, creating an asmr-esque buzz.

You're unworthy to be in his presence. Wet and cold. Miserable and pitiful. A background character no one ever pays attention to. Yet he's here talking to you.

"I'm going back to the barracks." You shift uncomfortably between your feet. "I'm tired."

Maybe it's the way the shadows play across his face, but he looks disappointed for a split second.

"Oh, but you just got here? I wanted to..." He trails off, frowning and clenching his fists for a moment before letting the tension drop with a sigh, "Never mind. Lemme walk you back."

"You don't have to do that-"

"No, but I want to."

He's already stepping your way, leaving little room for argument. The bar doors shut, and suddenly, it's just you and him. Still, you try to give him an out.

"But what about that lady you were talking to?"

The one you saw start a conversation with him before you left. The one in the pretty dress. The one who looked like she would be his perfect match.

"Only lady I wanna be talking to is you, Sunshine."

It's a funny joke, so you laugh. "Be serious."

"I am, Sun." He says it like it's true, and because he's got you stunned, he takes the opportunity to grab your hand and place it on his chest, holding you there.

He's warm. A stark contrast to the coldness that runs through your body. And despite the layers of clothing, you can feel the faint beating of his heart under your palm. Strong. Steady. Alive.

Your fingers twitch, curling into his chest. There's something calming about feeling that heavy beat against your palm.

"I was gonna tell you this inside where it's warm and dry, but I guess now's a good a time as any."

You look up from where you were watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. "What?"

"I wanted to tell you how I feel, Sun. Ask you out proper and take you out on a date," He confesses, hand pressing against yours a tad tighter, heart beating just a little harder. "If you'd let me."

It somehow doesn't feel real. Like you're having an out of body experience or dreaming something impossible. And yet... And yet, the way his heart beats so clearly tells you everything you need to know. Everything you ever hoped for. You would be a fool to reject him, even if this all turns out to be some cruel hallucination.

"I'd really like that."

The grin he rewards you with is heavenly.

"Yeah?" He steps a little closer, his musk filling the air you breathe, amplified by the misty rainstorm. You're surrounded by him. Encapsulated in his presence. It'd be a crime if you stepped away now. "You mean that?"

"Yeah, so... Guess there's nothing left to do but kiss in the rain, huh?" You shoot him a tentative smile, hand trembling nervously against his chest. "Take advantage of the crappy weather and all."

The amused huff he exhales lets you know you said the right thing, and the bashfulness you feel is replaced with anticipated glee at the sight of his lips slashing into a smirk. He uses his other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you flush against him. You lick your lips when his eyes dart down to study them, breath stuttering as he leans in, murmuring in that low, resonating timbre you love so much, "Guess so."

And then he presses his lips against yours with the beat of his heart thundering wildly under your palm.

Inspired by this:

Bruno Mars, Anderson .Paak, Silk Sonic- Leave The Door Open (Live from the iHeartRadio Music Awards) @ 2:35

#soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soapy thoughts :]#f!reader

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teddy06writes · 6 months ago

Text

Take Care of You

Fiyero Tigelaar x gn!reader

Prompt(s): "I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need your help, and I definitely don’t need your pity. Fuck off.” / "You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.”

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, general descriptions of sickness, stress, something in readers background makes them not want to depend on people, out of character fiyero? (idk man I've only seen the movie and read a lot of gilyeraba fics}

Summary: You and Fiyero have been going out for a few weeks, but you're still hesitant to let yourself get too near him. When you come down with the mysterious illness that's been working its way through Shiz, Fiyero's determined to nurse you through it, despite your reservations.

The harder you tried to focus on the words before you, the more your head swam. The library was quiet, and the lights were dim, so there shouldn't have been any chances of your headache getting worse. Yet pain still thundered at your temples.

Of course, after dodging this sickness for weeks, you caught it just in time for Dr. Dillamond to assign a very important project. It was just your luck.

You dropped your pen to the side, letting your head drop down onto your arms, heaving in a deep breath. No matter what you took or how much you tried to shake it, you could lose the bone tiredness that had been plaguing you for days now.

"You alright, darling? How long have you been holed up in here for?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Fiyero's voice, dragging your head up so quickly you swore you saw spots, "Uh-"

"Woah, hey," He quickly sat down in the chair next to you, reaching out like he needed to steady you, "What's going on?"

You blinked, trying to clear your vision, "Sorry- sorry, I'm just- tired."

"No need to apologize, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

Clearing your throat, you nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just have a bit of a headache."

Fiyero frowned, glancing at the textbook in front of you, "Well how long have you been working? Maybe it's time for a break."

"Only an hour. I'm fine."

He watched you with concern as you turned back to your work. You could practically feel him watching you, surely taking stock of the dark bags under your eyes, the unusual paleness of your skin, the way you suddenly couldn't seem to warm up.

"Have you taken medicine-"

"Yes. I do know how to take care of myself, Fiyero." There's a sharpness to your voice even you don't expect.

Even out of the corner of your eye you can see him frown, "I know that, darling, I know. You just don't look too good."

You let out a sigh, starting turn toward him again, "Fiyero-"

Before you could stop him, he was reaching out to press the back of his hand to your forehead, his frown deepening, "Darling, your burning up, what on earth are you doing studying?"

"The new assignment from Dr. Dillamond-"

"Isn't due for a week and a half! I mean honestly- Darling you should be resting-"

You stood up abruptly, even as it made stars dance in your vision, "I've been taking care of myself for a long time. I don't need your help, and I certainly don't need your pity, so please, fuck off."

Fiyero had stood and managed to catch your wrist before you could even make it three steps away, pulling you to turn back to him with a strange, desperate look on his face, "Who said this was pity?"

"Fiyero--"

"Who said this was pity?" He repeated, letting go of your wrist only to cup your cheek, his voice dropping, "I happen to genuinely care about your wellbeing, because believe it or not, I care about you, darling."

You closed your eyes for a long moment, trying desperately to turn away, "Fiyero..."

"You don't have to go through this, or anything else alone. Not anymore, not while I'm here," His hand drifted back to the back of your neck, gently turning your face back to him, "I'm right here if you'll just let me in."

Just like that, something in you seemed to break, and you were suddenly trying to blink away tears.

"Oh- Darling-"

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry-"

Fiyero began gently wiping away he few tears that had escaped and were trailing down your cheeks, "Hey, hey, don't apologize..."

"I'm just so tired- I can't shake this no matter what I do."

"Well, forcing yourself to be out and about certainly isn't helping," Fiyero turned, beginning to gather up your books and tuck everything away into your bag, "Come on, let's get you back to your dorm so you can get some rest."

When he took your hand, you didn't fight it, instead allowing yourself to be led along, out of the library. Outside, the cool air only seemed to worsen your chill, and Fiyero was quick to shrug off his jacket, tucking it around your shoulders.

The walk back to the dorms felt twice as long as your original journey to the library had taken, but eventually, you'd made it. Fiyero had coaxed you to lie down, and after all but forcing you to take another dose of medicine, tucked you into bed as if it were his life's mission.

You managed to catch hold of his hand as he turned to leave, whispering hoarsely, "Thank you, 'yero."

"Of course, darling," He smiled softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead, "I'll come by and check on you in the morning, yeah?"

But the only response he got was the sound of your soft snores. Chuckling to himself, Fiyero pressed another kiss to your forehead, before backing out of your room.

~~~

Enjoyed this fic? Help me buy textbooks :)

#teddy06 writes #teddy06 #teddy 06 #teddy06writes #wicked x reader #wicked x gn!reader #fiyero x reader #fiyero x gn!reader #fiyero tigelaar x reader #fiyero tigelaar x gn!reader

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axie-lot · 9 months ago

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Pyro, Hydro, Cyro

Characters: Kaeya and Diluc Warning: Male characters, Angst with no comfort, sibling dynamics, purely platonic Theme: Fluffy and Angsty

This work was originally written by me in Portuguese, and I translated it using Google Translator, so I apologize for any translation errors

Summary: What if Crepus had adopted two sons instead of one? This story tells of the life shared by three brothers who were inseparable in their younger years, only to be torn apart by an unforeseen tragedy...

[Masterlist]

Childhood

Do you know that feeling of wanting to go back in time?

When life was simpler?

That's the feeling [Name] has had since that day...

[Name] was adopted by Crepus when he went on a business trip to Fontaine. That was the initial idea, but by chance, he found an abandoned child on the way. Feeling pity for the child, he decided to adopt him.

Imagine the surprise of his sons, Diluc and Kaeya, seeing their father, who had gone on a business trip, returning with an unknown child, a few years younger than them.

Young Diluc was very excited when his father introduced the new family member and quickly introduced himself to the little boy, who was hiding behind his father's legs.

Kaeya, on the other hand, was a little hesitant to speak to [Name], but after some time, with Crepus and Diluc's help, he went to talk to the new family member.

From then on, the three of you became inseparable.

Diluc, being the oldest of the three, naturally took on the role of leader among you, becoming the most responsible one.

Even though he was the most responsible and serious, he still had his childish side, which would sometimes appear when you were having fun together.

Diluc was the one to scold [Name] and Kaeya for pulling pranks, but he also participated in some of those pranks.

"[Name], I can see you hiding there, trying to scare me," said the red-haired boy, lifting his eyes from his notebook where he had been studying, looking at his younger brother sneaking between the furniture, trying to frighten him.

"Kaeya, you can't practice your sword skills inside the house. You’ll end up breaking a vase, and Dad or Adelinde will get upset," said Diluc as he entered a room where a young boy with blue hair was training with his sword.

"Dad's going to kill us when he finds out we're sneaking out in the middle of the night for an adventure," said the redhead while being dragged by his two younger brothers on an adventure. (Diluc would never admit that he only agreed to go to ensure his younger brothers' safety).

As a child, Diluc was very protective of his younger brothers and cared deeply for them.

[Name] and Kaeya respected Diluc a lot, even though they would often tease him.

Diluc was the brother you and Kaeya would go to for comfort.

Thunder could be heard through the halls of the Dawn Winery. In one of the rooms, a young red-haired boy slept peacefully, despite the storm outside the mansion. But his sleep ended when he heard the door to his room open and felt someone snuggle up to him. Opening his eyes, he saw his younger brother, tears in his eyes, cuddling against him. Seeing this, Diluc began to gently stroke his head to comfort him.

"Shh... it's okay, [Name]... calm down, you're safe... I'm here with you," whispered Diluc, trying to soothe his brother.

"I hate thunder... I really hate it," the younger one said, his voice trembling.

A little while later, [Name] fell asleep. Diluc was about to drift off when he heard the door open again. Looking over, he saw his other brother entering the room.

"I was awake... I heard footsteps, so I went to check, and I saw [Name] going into your room, and since I'm curious, I decided to see what was going on," said Kaeya, scratching the back of his neck.

Diluc, understanding what was happening since he was used to situations like these and Kaeya's excuses, made room on the bed for his brother. Without saying a word, Kaeya lay down next to his brothers, and the three of them slept through the night.

The next morning, when Crepus came to wake up his eldest son, he found this scene. He simply smiled and left the room, letting his children sleep a little longer.

Diluc is the brother who always has the right words to calm his siblings.

Diluc dreams of joining the Knights of Favonius, so he spends a lot of time studying.

[Name] and Kaeya always support Diluc, sometimes jokingly bowing to him and responding with "Yes, sir."

Diluc has a pet turtle, and sometimes when he's looking for it, he finds the turtle and [Name] having a long staring contest (the turtle always wins).

Kaeya is the middle child, a mix of responsible and mischievous, but much more mischievous than responsible. In short, he's the balance between the two.

Kaeya often influences [Name] to be mischievous, always giving [Name] ideas for pranks.

Kaeya is the one who always manages to escape punishment by blaming one of his siblings.

But when the punishment turns into a real consequence, he always finds a way to cheer his siblings up.

Kaeya has a talent for sneaking up on people and giving them a good scare.

Kaeya has that sibling energy where only he can tease his brothers, and if anyone else tries, he'll make that person regret it.

Kaeya LOVES to provoke his dear brothers.

"Well, well~~~ what do we have here... a little thief raiding the kitchen... or should I say I found a little mouse~~~?" said Kaeya, sneaking up behind [Name] as they rummaged through the mansion's kitchen.

"What would Dad think... of me finding the great heir sleeping during his studies?" Kaeya teased, grinning at his red-haired brother, who had fallen asleep over a book.

Kaeya teaches [Name] to swear, much to Diluc's dismay.

Kaeya loves to gossip with his brothers, as he has a knack for uncovering other people's secrets. When he finds something out, he immediately tells his brothers. [Name] and Diluc are certain that Kaeya knows everyone's secrets in Mondstadt.

Oh, Barbatos, please protect [Name] and Diluc when Kaeya discovers they have a crush, for he will have a new way to tease his brothers about it.

Kaeya is the brother who steals food and sweets from his siblings when they're distracted.

Kaeya sometimes has strange moments...

[Name] was hungry, so he decided to sneak into the kitchen to find something to eat, making as little noise as possible. As he made his way there, he noticed that a door in the hallway was open. Thinking it was his father, he decided to peek inside. But what he saw was his brother Kaeya silently staring out the window. Spooked, [Name] quickly returned to his bed, hiding under the covers, thinking, "Barbatos, help me, my brother is possessed!"

Sometimes, Kaeya sneaks into his siblings' rooms for comfort, though he never says why.

Kaeya often enjoys strolling through the streets of Mondstadt with his siblings, and even with Crepus.

Kaeya loves practicing swordsmanship with his brothers.

[Name] is the youngest sibling.

[Name] has an adventurous spirit and loves exploring with his older brothers.

[Name], Diluc, and Kaeya train together.

Diluc taught him more attack stances, while Kaeya focused on defensive moves and how to dodge.

Each brother ended up with a different fighting style.

[Name] adopted a mix of both of his brothers' fighting styles.

[Name] once saw someone kicking their weapon during a fight and wanted to imitate it, but it resulted in [Name] being scolded by Diluc for it being too dangerous, while Kaeya laughed in the background, finding it hilarious because kicking a weapon was a stupid idea.

[Name] doesn’t remember much of his past, but sometimes has nightmares about it.

[Name] doesn’t like being alone.

[Name] enjoys being in the company of his brothers, even when they are doing something else. [Name] just likes being around them.

Diluc was in his room studying, as he often did. He felt the responsibility of being his family's heir and wanted to make his father proud. While studying, he glanced away from his book to look at his younger brother [Name], who was sitting in the corner of the room drawing on a piece of paper. Diluc couldn’t help but smile before returning his focus to his book.

In the fields near the Dawn Winery, Kaeya was practicing his swordsmanship while his younger brother [Name] watched. The older brother couldn’t resist showing off a little in front of his younger sibling, and [Name] excitedly clapped with enthusiasm.

The three brothers were always seen together, wandering the streets of Mondstadt, having fun and playing.

They were always each other's support... Adolescence

Diluc joined the Knights of Favonius, but not just as an ordinary knight—he became the Cavalry Captain.

[Name] and Kaeya also joined the Knights of Favonius. Even though neither of them holds a position as high as Diluc, they don’t feel jealous because they know he’s there because he earned it.

[Name] also helps the Adventurers' Guild in his free time because he loves to go on adventures.

Diluc is increasingly involved in helping Crepus with the family business, but of course, his two younger brothers help out however they can.

Kaeya still pulls pranks like sneaking some wine, often dragging his two brothers along, but it usually ends with all three of them being punished.

One night at Dawn Winery, you could see the three sons of the owner huddled together in a corner, planning something.

“Why do I have to be the one to distract Adelinde??” – the eldest asked, casting a questioning look at his younger brothers. –

“You’re the oldest.” “And [Name] and I are the fastest,” – his two younger brothers replied one after the other. –

The redhead looked at the other two with a tired expression, sighed, nodded, and went off to distract Adelinde. After that, Kaeya and [Name] exchanged smiles, already knowing what to do now that they had convinced Diluc to help them. They waited for a bit, taking advantage of the darkness of the night to sneak into the wine cellar of the mansion. Kaeya signaled for [Name] to go ahead and open the door, but as [Name] opened it, both boys froze. Inside the dark cellar, there was a figure with crossed arms, their red hair illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the small windows of the room. That figure was none other than their adoptive father. The two boys knew at that moment they had been caught, but they didn’t give up easily. They began to step back in hopes of escaping, only to bump into Adelinde, standing there with a guilty-looking Diluc by her side.

“You should’ve known that Diluc is a terrible liar,” Adelinde said with a look of reproach towards the three boys.

“My sons… maybe one day you’ll manage to steal some wine without us noticing, but that day is not today,” their father said with an amused tone. “But for now, since you’ve been caught, you’ll have to clean the wine barrels.” After Crepus spoke, all that could be heard were the boys’ sounds of protest.

[Name] and Kaeya often bother Diluc in his office while he’s working.

When [Name] is gone for long periods on Adventurers' Guild missions, his brothers worry about him a lot.

This could have lasted forever…

A happy family…

A family that loved each other…

Everything comes to an end…

A tragic end…

Crepus was dead, the boys' father was dead. [Name] was the only one who wasn’t there at the time.

The youngest of the three brothers was on patrol that day when he spotted one of the mansion's maids running towards him, her expression tearful. [Name] immediately grew concerned, but then he heard those words—his father, Crepus, was dead. At that moment, [Name]’s world shattered. The man who had taken care of him, the one who gave him a home when he had no one, was gone. [Name] felt like a child again, and he just cried—he cried a lot…

[Name] wanted to see his older brothers, to find comfort in them, so after recovering from his crying fit, he went to look for them. But when he found them, things didn’t go as he expected.

Everything happened so fast. [Name] found his brothers, but something was wrong—both were injured as if they had fought each other. Kaeya had a guilty look on his face, though he quickly masked it with a cold expression. Diluc, on the other hand, had nothing but burning rage in his eyes. Confused, [Name] called out to them.

“Diluc?… Kaeya? What happened? Why are you hurt?…” – [Name] asked in a weak, worried voice.

But all he got in return was silence. Neither of his brothers looked at him, completely ignoring their younger sibling’s presence. [Name] could tell that whatever had happened here wasn’t good. After a long silence, Diluc finally gave Kaeya one last look and spoke.

“We’re done here… I never want to see your face again,” – Diluc said, and began to walk away.

[Name], still not understanding anything and still in pain from their father’s death, was confused and panicking. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, so he did the only thing he could think of—he ran after his brother and grabbed his arm.

“Diluc… brother… please—” – [Name] was cut off as Diluc pushed him away.

“DON’T CALL ME BROTHER! WE’RE NOT BROTHERS! I HAVE NO BROTHER!”

For the first time in his life, Diluc shouted at [Name], and the younger boy stepped back, afraid of his older brother. Diluc’s gaze seemed to waver slightly at seeing his brother’s fear, but it quickly vanished as he turned his back on [Name] and walked away.

In desperation, [Name] turned to Kaeya, but he was met with Kaeya averting his gaze and walking off as well.

And so, [Name] was left alone in that place, feeling nothing but pain—a deep, overwhelming pain. He couldn’t believe that on the same day he lost his beloved father, he also lost his two older brothers, and worst of all, he didn’t even know why they fought.

[Name] didn’t return to the mansion that night. Instead, he wandered aimlessly across the lands of Mondstadt. That night was the one he cried the most in his life, and the worst part was, he had no one to comfort him.

The next day, he returned to the mansion, only to be greeted by Adelinde, who informed him that both Kaeya and Diluc had left. So, [Name] made the decision to leave as well, no longer feeling welcome in the house he had grown up in, the house that now felt empty.

[Name] then packed his things to leave, but while putting his belongings in his backpack, he noticed an object he was sure he didn’t have before. That object was a Vision…

A Hydro Vision…

Part 2?

#diluc x sibling reader #kaeya x brother reader #kaeya x male reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya x sibilng reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x male reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin x male reader #genshin x reader

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karasu4life · 7 months ago

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Pic creds: floreaii on Pinterest

Sae Itoshi x Spanish reader, I guess... It's kinda short, not a full story but more like a little self indulgent

I can do a second part hehehehehehehbwhehedbd if y'all like slowburn

Not proofread... At all... 1.3k (eugh I need a word counter instead of a character counter)

First post

Sae was finally getting comfortable in this new country, after being alone for so long. Without his parents, his little brother, or anyone to keep him company during the endless stretches of free time that had slowly dwindled into nothing. Sae dedicated his entire life to football. Football, and only football. To be the best... Striker? He wasn’t even sure anymore. He should know. He was Japan's prodigy, after all.

Every day was a relentless pursuit of improvement, every second accounted for. So the fact that studying was mandatory in Spain—something he couldn't escape—was like a thorn in his side.

He had arrived at thirteen, just in time to be thrust into "primero de la ESO," the first year of high school. Now, at fifteen, he was in tercero. The years blurred together, marked only by training and the occasional match. Classes? They were background noise.

Sae glanced at his grades, printed neatly on the paper he held. Around him, his classmates were a cacophony of shouts—some celebrating, others wailing in despair.

Ah. PE.

It was the only subject where his scores shone. The rest? A mix of pity passes and resigned teachers. He folded the paper, tucked it into his backpack, and waited for the bell. Recess, or recreo, meant thirty minutes of freedom. Normally, he would spend it playing football, but today, he didn’t feel like it.

When the bell finally rang, the classroom erupted into chaos. Chairs screeched, voices overlapped, and footsteps thundered toward the door. Everyone scattered, eager for their break—everyone except one person.

You.

You were fumbling with your backpack, struggling to fix your hair while trying to retrieve your lunch. Sae watched as you sighed, frustration evident on your face.

"Me han gastado la misma broma… otra vez." Your voice was quiet, resigned.

You stood up, leaving your things behind. It wasn’t the first time Sae had seen this. The so-called friends you surrounded yourself with were more like hyenas, always pulling these "jokes." Was that considered bullying or just friendly bantering? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to label it. All he knew was that you didn’t deserve it at all.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was already on his feet, moving towards you. His body acted on instinct, though his mind questioned why. Sae wasn’t one to meddle. He didn’t really care for people. Yet here he was, holding out his lunchbox in your direction.

You blinked, startled, your eyes flicking from the lunchbox to his face.

"Eh?"

"Yo puedo quedarme con… contigo en el, how do you say it, recreo." His Spanish was stilted, awkward, and the furrow in his brow deepened as he stumbled over the words.

A giggle unintentionally escaped your lips before you could stop it. His frown deepened even more, and you quickly cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself.

"Ah, ¡claro! Uh, I mean… I'll put my English classes to good use. Of course you can stay with me! Or, eh, I can stay with you…"

Sae gave a curt nod and turned toward the door. You scrambled to grab your things, trailing after him like a lost puppy.

He didn’t say much as you walked, his expression unreadable. But you didn’t mind.

You never found the perfect wave of words to describe this boy, man, guy, dude, whatever. He was someone admirable to say less. You would always go to his matches, sneaking out of your group of friends just to see him play. You could call them your comfort space, a place where there was no one except you, your thoughts and Sae. The fact that he was someone cold attracted you, making you too curious for your own good. You wanted to get to know him without being brushed off like the rest of people who tried to talk with him.

Qué sorpresa.

Sae found the perfect wave of words to describe you. Someone annoying, very much talkative, sometimes wanting to look cool but failing miserably to the point where you don't even try anymore and just start being yourself. The fact that you took the time to try to fit in, even if you were from this same country, made him want to know more about you. Why would you do that? He couldn’t understand why you bothered pretending to do so when you were clearly better off alone. But maybe that’s what made you different from him. Maybe you weren't afraid of trying, even if it meant failing. Sae didn't try. He didn't let himself fail. He wanted to know why you did.

How surprising.

You found a spot under the shade of a tree, just far enough from the chaos of the football field. The moment you sat down, a ball went flying towards your head.

You saw your whole life flash by in 5 seconds, which was how long it took Sae to react by stopping the ball with his foot and sending it back into the field, startling the group of boys who had sent it flying in the first place.

"¿Seriously?" Sae muttered, his tone dripping with irritation as he sat down and opened his lunchbox.

You stared at him, still processing what had just happened.

"Do you attract bad luck, by any chance?" he asked, his gaze flicking to you briefly before focusing on his food.

"As far as I know… no?" You frowned, though his question made you think. Were you really a magnet for bad luck? Then something caught your eye: his lunch.

"You didn’t bring un bocata!"

Sae looked up, confused. “Un what?”

"¡Bocata!" you repeated.

"…Bocado?"

"No, bocata. Like… sandwich? Bocadillo?" You gestured dramatically, as if miming the shape of a sandwich would help him understand.

"Ah. Right. That." He looked down at his neatly packed lunch—rice, chicken, and vegetables arranged with military precision. "No."

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest as if he had offended the entire nation.

"¿Cómo que no?"

"¿Cómo que sí?" he shot back, his tone flat but carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

"That sentence doesn't even make sense!"—you retorted—"Do you do anything else except playing football?"

"Do you do anything else except watching people playing football?" Your jaw dropped. So, he had noticed. All those times you thought you’d been sneaky, hiding in the bleachers or at the edge of the field—he’d known.

Maybe you were too bored, didn't you have a home?

You were startled. Shutting up and fixing your hair again, uselessly putting some strands behind your ear that decided to go to their initial position. You struggled opening your backpack, Sae was interested.

What was today's prank?

"They put glue on the, this," you pointed at the zipper with a slight frown "the cremallera. Eh, zip-zip."

"Maybe you should do something about it." the boy in front of you took the backpack, forcing it open. It broke the zipper but at least you had your maravilloso bocata.

"Gracias! Eh, ah, quiero decir, no, wait, I mean thank you!"

You both smiled, even though his was almost unnoticeable... Heh... You could say you were special.

It didn't last a bit, too.

Sae had noticed many stupid habits you had. Fixing your hair when you were nervous, hiding every time the teacher asked something because you didn't like being picked, how you only put effort into the things that interested you... That's something both of you had in common.

But, the stupidest one by far was how you didn't face your so-called friends when they did things like this.

"You should report them." said the redhead, bringing a munch of rice to his mouth. "Are these really just jokes?"

"Bueno... I mean, well. It's not that bad. The worst thing they've done to me is when I decided to get too silly in a call where they took 12 screenshots to make them stickers."

You took a big bite off your bocata, looking at Sae. Sae stared back.

...

"I want to feel sorry for you but you make it impossible."

Pspspsps is it ooc

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cheynovak · 9 months ago

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Bound by Fear - Teaser

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character

Summary:Y/N’s life with The Boys has been one of constant fear, especially when Soldier Boy joins their ranks. She knows his dark history, and just being in the same room with him makes her blood run cold. But when a final showdown spirals out of control, and her friends are moments from death, Y/N steps forward, putting herself between Soldier Boy and The Boys. Terrified but determined, she offers him an escape—an out that might save everyone, even if it means sacrificing herself to the supe she fears most.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Some spice scene further in the series.

English is not my first language

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

I can still feel my heart hammering, louder than the chaos that unfolds around me. The Boys are ganging up on Soldier Boy, Ben, and it's not looking good. Every blow, every clash between them reverberates like thunder, and I know… he's not going to back down. He never does. They’re going to get themselves killed. Or maybe he’ll kill them, because he can.

The fear I’ve always had around him swells, but so does a sharper instinct—to stop this. My voice is shaking as I step forward, yelling, “Ben, wait!” The others barely register my words, but he does. His head snaps toward me, confusion narrowing his gaze.

“Run away with me,” I say, not knowing where the words come from. “You don’t have to do this. We can go somewhere else. Start over.”

He laughs softly, almost a scoff, and I know he doesn’t believe it, and I can’t blame him. How many times has he seen me freeze or flinch in his presence? How many times have I buried my horror at his past under a facade of polite distance? Yet here I am, forcing myself to stand still as he steps closer, his gaze locked on mine.

He’s silent for a long moment, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. His touch is gentle, though there’s a hard look in his eyes, as if he's trying to see through me. “You’re scared of me," he murmurs, the words cold but oddly intimate. “You don’t want this.”

I swallow, trying to steady my breathing. “Yes, I do,” I whisper. “Please, Ben. Come with me.”

His grip moves ever so slightly, his fingers lingering near my neck, his thumb following the beat of my heart under my skin, as he studies me, like he’s weighing the honesty in my words. For a moment, I almost feel the warmth flickering in him, a hesitation.

But then Ben’s hand moves up, his fingers wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer to him, just firm enough to hold me in place, to remind me exactly who he is. I try to steady myself, but the fear is thick in my throat, and despite everything, a tear slips free, tracing down my cheek. I see his gaze drop to it, his jaw clenching as if he’s fighting something within himself.

"You're terrified of me," he murmurs, his voice low, a mixture of frustration and something deeper I can’t quite place.

I try to speak, to hold steady against the intensity in his eyes, but my voice is a whisper. “I’m not—I’m not afraid. I want this, Ben. I want you to come with me. Please, let’s just go.” I say holding my hands around his wrist.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, his grip still firm, his gaze unwavering as if trying to understand what on earth I’m doing, why I’m standing here in the way I am. Then, after what feels like an eternity, his hand drops from my neck, and I exhale, feeling the lingering touch even as he lets go.

I turn just as MM steps closer, the sedative ready in his hands, his eyes hard, determined. I know what he’s about to do, what they’re all about to do. Without thinking, I step forward, my arms outstretched, blocking him from Ben. “Don’t!” I say, my voice breaking. My back is to Ben, shielding him, and I can feel the weight of everyone’s stares—the disbelief, the confusion.

MM’s voice is tense, frustrated. “Y/N, move. He’s not worth it, he’ll kill you the second he gets the chance.”

But I shake my head. “No. This isn’t the way, MM. He’s…let us go, please."

I can feel Ben’s gaze on me, that hard intensity still lingering, but it’s different now, softened somehow, like he’s caught off guard. Annie grabs my arm, her voice a soft, urgent plea, “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Think about it. You don’t have to protect him.”

But I pull my arm free, looking straight at Ben. “Yes, I do.”

For a moment, it’s as if the whole world pauses, like this decision is hanging in the air, impossible to ignore.

Then Ben steps back, his shoulders relaxing, a flicker of something like understanding in his eyes. And without another word, he turns to leave, and I follow, feeling the weight of every gaze behind me.

There’s no going back now.

Taglist:

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma

@ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27

@globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99

#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #fluff #jensen fucking ackles #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys soldier boy #enemies to lovers

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eevees-hobbies · 1 year ago

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Kyojuro's Penchant for Mirror Foreplay - NSFW

Author’s Note: I swear that I am obsessed with other characters that aren’t Kyojuro Rengoku! I like OTHER anime! He’s just…perfect. Like they really made the perfect man and then stole him from us!

Content Warnings: Female Reader X Kyojuro Rengoku Smut. Foreplay only.

Word Count: 1.1K

Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated! Minors and ageless blogs, please don’t interact.

---------

Kyojuro Rengoku loves the sight of you, which means you better either share the same sentiment or get comfortable with this reality. The Flame Hashira could ravish you anywhere—and he does—but he has a special place in his heart for taking you in front of a mirror, your bodies smacking thunderously against one another, your breasts bouncing wildly, and your face smashed against the cool surface of the mirror as he takes you from behind. Yeah, he has a real penchant for mirrors.

One of his favorite things to do is sit you both down in front of a full-length mirror, your back pressed against his firm chest, his bent legs draped over yours in a way that pins them firmly in place in case you even think about trying to squirm your way out of his grasp.

He’ll begin by peppering soft kisses against your shoulders, a low growl emitting from his throat as he takes in your natural scent. He especially relishes in the smell of you if you’ve been participating in activities that made you sweat throughout the day.

While kissing each tender spot on your neck—spots that Kyo knows so well because he’s studied and committed every spot that elicits a groan, tremble, and whimper to memory. His deft fingers sliding your kimono off, your naked frame shivering at the coolness in the air causing goose bumps to raise your skin. As quickly as he tosses the fabric over your heads, his large hands cup your breasts in his palms. He lets out a soft moan against your neck, his mouth latching onto the skin and sucking, leaving a trail of bright, red hickeys.

“I find myself just as enraptured by you as the day we first met, my flame. Gods, you’re so…”

His voice trails off as he pinches your nipples between his calloused fingers, groaning as they harden and pucker just for him.

“Just look at you. I can drink you in all day.” Your eyes look up to your reflections, and you shiver as his hungry, piercing eyes are locked in on yours.

“K-kyo, stop staring!”

“Please don’t ask me to do the impossible, my flame.”

You feel his strong legs tense against yours as he uses them to spread your outstretched limbs wider, your glistening sex now reflected at you both. Your face grows hot being so open and exposed—even if this is the umpteenth time he’s placed you in this exact same predicament.

“I love every inch of you,” he mutters against your skin. You feel his heart pounding against your back and something firmer and slick pressing against the top of your ass.

His hands travel downwards, raking through your pubic hair, two of his fingers pressing gently against your labia and spreading them apart, exposing the fleshy inside of your pussy, your opening already drooling in anticipation for his touch.

“Look at how ready she is, my love.”

He dips a middle finger into your sex and brings it up to his mouth, tongue flicking past his lips and tasting you like a starving man.

“F-fuck, you’re delicious,” he lets out a low groan; his now saliva-slicked finger travels back down to your aching cunt, and gingerly strokes your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves feeling vulnerable and wanting.

Your head falls back to rest on Kyojuro’s shoulder, but his other free hand, which was previously fondling your breast, grips your jaw, pulling it back down so that your eyes are back onto your reflection in the mirror.

“I need you to see what I’m doing to you. I need you to see how beautiful you are.”

His hot breath stirs the tips of your hair that frame your face and tickles your ear. Suddenly, your body feels hotter, and you realize that it’s not only your arousal that’s creating a sheen of sweat on your chest but his too. As his eyes roam over your body, but especially over your cunt, his body temperature shoots up, and precum drips down the length of his pulsating tip.

He now has two fingers against your clit, rubbing them in swift circular motions, his grip on your jaw unrelenting, forcing you to watch him and how he pleasures your body.

You dig your heels into the floor, your hips bucking up as the burning in your lower abdomen intensifies.

Kyo’s thighs clamp down onto yours now—the weight and power of them so very apparent, keeping you in place—which would feel torturous and cruel if it were anyone else succumbing you to the immense pressure shooting through your veins.

Every muscle in your body is telling you to get away from the intense orgasm you feel building inside of you. You jerk your hips upward in desperation, but Kyojuro revels in you coming undone, even if that means he leaves you a trembling mess.

“Hmm, where could you possibly think you’re going, my flame,” his tongue licks at your earlobe, his typically resonant voice deep and husky in your ear.

Your words catch in your throat, barely able to sputter your pleas, “I c-can’t t-take…!”

“But you will take it. Endure it, my love,” he dips his fingers into your cunt; you both moan, you, because his fingers make you feel full, and him because your sex desperately squeezes at his fingers, and he can only imagine that same sensation on his cock.

His fingers plunge into your gushing pussy, rubbing every inch of your velvety walls, the motions of his fingers making lewd squelching sounds.

“Touch your needy clit for me,” he commands as the tips of his fingers massage the soft, spongey spot deep in you.

You whimper as you bring a shakey hand to your clit, the pressure of your fingers against your twitching flesh and Kyojuro’s fingers inside of you, making your moans louder until they’re ringing in both your ears.

Your eyes find his half-lidded ones in the mirror once again, and you let out a squeak as his piercing and prying eyes make you cum.

Kyojuro lets you ride the wave on his fingers, cooing words of appraisal in your ear, “that’s my girl.”

He removes his fingers again and brings them up to his hungry mouth, and sucks your wetness clean from every inch. Once satisfied, he places soft kisses against the knuckles of your hand.

“Hmm,” he growls softly, “you always set me ablaze.”

As you tremble mercilessly against him, the effects of the orgasm still rupturing through your body, you realize that his grip on you hasn’t lessened; in fact, it feels firmer. As he slides his hand back down to your quivering hole and pulls your face toward his so your mouths connect, you realize that Kyojuro fully intends to have you both placed in front of the mirror for quite some time.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro x reader #kny #rengoku kyojuro smut #kny reader insert #rengoku kyojuro

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lady-quen · 5 months ago

Text

Hounds to Hamartia

"...Do you really want this, Commander? You wouldn't have gotten so far if not for your hunger." "...A hunger to succeed. To be recognized. To have power. You greedy creature, always reaching for more than you can swallow until the God of Flames finally made you choke on it. And yet, you'd return? To do it all over again? Don't you see how far you've already fallen - from a bright eyed Valiant to a wolf gripping tight the reins of all those who would dare question and oppose you? You're a killer, you know, right? You're never satisfied. And no matter what you do and how much you achieve, it will never be enough. You can drink til you're sick but never til you're satisfied. You will lose your Dream but your Hunt shall never end. Is this what you want?" "To save her. Yes. I will do anything." "Will you be anything?" "Yes."

[The Departing soft rewrite as applicable to my canon. 15k words. Tws for major character death, major character undeath, blood, gore, unreality, fantasy racism, swearing. The study of ambition as a fatal flaw, ironic destiny, as well as what it means to become a monster to stop an arrogant god. The Commander's encore.]

The arid Elonian air strained his lungs. That, and all that smoke from the Forged that insisted on barricading his path every step of the way.

The Knight ducked, deftly avoiding a blow from a massive Cannonade - deathly green magic snaking around the tip of Caladbolg as he angled it upward. With a shink! the Thorn slotted neatly between the plates of the construct's armor, severing the strands that bound the soul battery within. The flame fizzled out, and the colossus fell to its knees.

That... was the last of them. Maelmordha sighed, wiping a stray bead of sweat from silver skin. Sun-dried, his leaves and bark had practically lost all color. The sylvari took a short break in his climb, leaning against one of the rocky pillars that offered him some shade. Idly, his unaltered hand played with the settings of his communicator. He had already tried to enter the channel before, but the duststorms coming in from around Kesho had rendered the effort moot. Once again, the device returned nothing but static. Just like the buzz of sand in his ears when he braved the vast desert.

The necromancer pocketed the contraption, vinetooth arm adjusting Caladbolg's weight upon his shoulder. Not too long, now, he thought to himself. As he walked, the top of the Spire finally came into view - the meeting place he had arranged for the Dragon's Watch to pick him up. In theory, the altitude should allow for his communicator to work even despite the chaotic weather.

In practice, however, he really didn't like the dark clouds looming in the distance.

„Taimi, come in.” He stopped in the middle of the plateau. The only thing that answered him was yet more static, causing the Knight to let out an exasperated huff. The airship should have been visible by now. Did they get stuck in the storm? Worst case scenario, he could wait however long it took - he'd much rather spend a few extra rations than have the Watch crash somewhere far from civilization, thrown to the mercy of Elona's fickle weather and scorching sun. Spirits of this land only knew just how much of a scorned mistress it could really be, but he was beginning to get an idea. And that idea was that the sky was darkening much too quickly to be natural.

Something stirred in the pit of his stomach. Gold eyes narrowed, scanning the area around him. His stronger arm rested on the hilt of the Thorn, feeling the fuzz on his neck stand up as though seized by crackling static.

A sound. Like thunder.

The Commander leapt back, just narrowly avoiding the fiery meteor that crash landed in the middle of the Spire. What in the fucking Hydras..?! No, this wasn't a meteor -

„Balthazar!” His lips moved on their own. Fuck.

The God seemed to drink in the shock and fear betrayed by the necromancer's features. Grizzled features contorting in a self-satisfied smirk beneath a crown of obsidian horns. His gaze was oppressive, even when his voice seemed almost eerily playful. „Expecting someone else?”

Shit. This wasn't winnable.

The Commander forced a smile, even when he could already feel his skin shedding water at the sheer heat emanating from the God of Fire. His mask would do no good here - Balthazar knew all too well he held the upper hand. Still, if the Dragon's Watch were to come - how did the human God even know they were meeting here?!

Think, Mael, think..!

„Oh? Can't a man go sightseeing in peace?” He blurted out with a nervous laugh, Caladbolg poised and ready for combat. He could hear the rush of sap in his ears, heart pounding to the rhythm of alarm bells ringing in his skull. Gold eyes scanned the plateau. As if on cue, walls of fire, summoned with a snap of the rogue deity's fingers. Cutting off his escape route. Like a wolf smoked out of its den and ensnared in a ring of burning forest.

This was the end of the road. Knowing running was no longer an option, the sylvari's gaze focused on Balthazar, eyes wide and instinctive smirk turning into a wicked-looking grin. It wasn't a smile, anymore. He was a cornered beast, all bared teeth and feet ready to spring. The god chuckled. „Good. Just like that. I want your eyes on me, now, Commander.”

His title was a mockery, upon Balthazar's tongue. Like playing pretend with a child who wished he could be king. In the end, mortal rulers were but fleeting autumn leaves, falling soundless before eternal Gods. Not even a requiem, only the desert winds.

Fuck that. He was not going to think that way. He would not give this man the satisfaction. Maelmordha grinned, the sharpened tips of his fangs but polished wood before the hulking giant of flame and metal. So, too, was Caladbolg - but the Thorn had slain strange things before. And he laughed, a brazen sound to challenge Balthazar's own. If he were to fall, he would not go quietly.

„Bring it, then. Just us.”

No one was coming. Good. He would not suffer Balthazar to hurt his guild.

His attitude seemed to humor the God. An enormous blade of lupine decor and crackling hellfire rose at the fiery monarch's whim, carried solely by the strength of his will. Mael prepared himself to dodge - ducking swiftly under a wide swing that would have surely cleaved him in twain where he stood. Like a hot knife through butter. Still the red-hot bottom of the sword singed his foliage, adding a dusting of black to once pure-white leaves.

He sprang back to his feet, rolling deftly around the God's shin. Caladbolg struck viciously - a resounding clang as divine wood struck divine metal, repelled by the sheer force of magic clashing against magic. Shit. Balthazar was not only armored from head to toe - he was his armor, inhabited by flame like the lanterns in the Grove holding fireflies.

Unbothered, the God of War extended a palm - his war machine of a sword moving of its own accord and raking the ground where Mael had stood but moments prior. Lazy, like a cat swatting a toy mouse. Knowing its plaything won't run away. Catching a gaze of twin funeral pyres, the necromancer extended a hand of his own. There was no flesh nor blood here, but a necromancer of his caliber could make do.

„Rise!” He commanded, and the bleached bone of Elona's past answered his call. Skeletal warriors, rapidly assembling, with sand-worn equipment clutched in desiccated digits. Not like these could do much against the living embodiment of volcanic fury dressed in fortress walls, but they could be a distraction.

„Oh? What's this? Playing with toys? Feeling lonely?” Balthazar teased, a swing of his sword turning one of his minions into bone dust. Too shattered to return, a jigsaw with a million pieces. „...Have your friends abandoned you?”

He wasn't going to let Balthazar's teasing get to him. He only grinned in response, brows furrowed over sharp, golden orbs. Good, he wanted to say. Good, only I pay the price for my foolishness - no, don't think like that.

...You can salvage this. He's arrogant. An enemy so sure of their superiority won't be as ready for the tables to turn.

He ducked and weaved, striking with Caladbolg where he was able. Hissing as the fire burned his skin by mere proximity, retreating into a Shroud of shadows. Each step of this dance was a brush with death - against a predator who could crush him in a single blow.

„What do you say we take things a little more slowly this time?” The deity rumbled contentedly - reveling in his opponent's fleeting strength.

„I'm surprised a God can derive this much enjoyment from fighting one mortal.” Maelmordha quipped back. „Picking on prey your own size didn't go well, last time?”

„It seems you need a lesson in humility.”

He provoked him. Good.

Having baited Balthazar into advancing, the Commander leapt back. As soon as the God's boot touched the polished stone floor where he had stood but seconds prior, runic patterns alight with a green hue began their work.

An explosion, followed by another, and another. Sizzling poison accompanied by bitter frost, Death's own essence wrapped around the fallen God's form to sap his strength. The necromancer felt some of his burns heal from the sheer amount of magic taken through this gambit. Revitalized, a glimmer of hope surfaced within his mind that maybe, he could last long enough to devise a proper plan.

...And yet, even that amount of magic only seemed equal to plucking a single hair off the back of a rampaging boar. Balthazar didn't even seem to feel it.

He closed the gap faster than Mael could have ever anticipated such a behemoth to move. A motion of a fiery hand prompting his greatsword to thrust forward at unprecedented speed, and the Pact Commander could only respond so well.

A massive claw of pure darkness rose from the ground to intercept the blade, hardening quickly into solid shadow. But the flame only burned brighter. Parting the dark like a lantern, phasing right through his spell before he was fully ready to dodge.

He felt the blade brush against his side. It almost felt painless - before the scream caught in his throat.

He fell to his right, clutching his cleaved side. Golden blood gushed from the gruesome wound, Caladbolg clattering to the ground without fanfare. A howl of agony burst through clenched lips before he could ever choke it down. Shaking, he pushed down on crimson fabric, knowing no bandage could stem the flow of the sap that stickied his fingers.

Like a tree taking an axe to the trunk only to topple over. Even with all these years, he really was no more than a sapling.

No, no..! Get up. This isn't the end. Is it..?

He fought so hard to not let the terror show in his eyes. Even so much as meeting Balthazar's gaze was a monumental task. But he did. He blinked against the twin suns that threatened to steal his vision, and the Lord of Flames smirked. Satisfaction, mockery, faux pity, he couldn't even tell what it was, if not all of it at once.

„Feeling mortal yet?” He thundered, even the softest whisper of his voice an earthquake in its own right. „Do you recall the lesson? No? Let me repeat it for you: never defy a god.”

Through the haze of pain and building panic, the necromancer did the only thing appropriate. He laughed. His vinetooth arm reached for the fallen Thorn. Using the sword as a crutch, he pulled himself up to his feet. Even if his knees trembled. Even if the warmth spreading across his side sent waves of nausea through his guts.

And he felt it again. That magic he had absorbed previously. Except - no - this magic was.. was Balthazar directly feeding a sliver of his magic to him, right in that very moment? Was he going crazy from blood loss? And if so, why did he suddenly feel so much better?

Good enough to stand. Good enough to swing a sword - even with just one arm, and the other possibly the only barrier stopping his insides from sightseeing the outside world. He was still bleeding, but this... he had time. He had time.

Time. Time. Just... a little more time. What are you holding out for, Valiant? You know help isn't coming.

Tick, tock.

He bit back a groan of pain. I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

Every second he wrestled from this dire hourglass was a testament to his resilience. Every long second that counted down towards his death was a testament to Balthazar's pride. Panting, mortal breath mixed with immortal, singing fire and the roar of a sword two times his height or more slamming against the ground like a thunder drum.

A terrible symphony, for none to behold but themselves.

Tick, tock. He dodged. Tick, tock. The Thorn glanced off of impenetrable armor. Tick, tock. He slipped on his blood. Balthazar seemed almost disappointed at the lack of banter.

He couldn't move fast enough. His right hand joined the left in gripping the hilt of Caladbolg when he prepared to parry. Blinding light strained his eyes as the telekinetic strike came his way, and he angled the Thorn to minimize damage.

A sickening crunch. He skid back several meters, fresh pain seizing control of his senses. His right arm refused his control, and the tip of Caladbolg fell heavy against the floor in a pitiful attempt to stop him from falling. His breath came in ragged gasps as he beheld what had become of his uncorrupted arm - mangled at the elbow, splinters of wood tearing through vine. Fresh sap streaming down his sleeve, dripping from unresponsive fingers. It hurt. Oh, by the Tree it hurt so much. A low whine of agony escaped heaving lungs, tears flowing freely down silver cheeks. He couldn't even find the energy to meet the God's gaze, then. And he wasn't sure he even wanted to. Reality's weight was settling in, like dull ache in the bones.

If he looked at him now, what would he find? What was this sadism? How long would this last..?

Tick.

Tock.

Another blow. There wasn't even any time for him to breathe. If he were to fall, he would not go quietly. Like a ragdoll, he was practically thrown across the arena, a new slash in his shoulder rendering his right side almost completely useless. His mangled form finally came to a halt when it crashed against a pillar, rupturing something inside. A pained hiss, then desperate roar of hatred and sheer anguish. With his sole working hand, he slowly dragged himself, yet again, towards his sword.

„Suffer a little more loudly. Cry out!” The God raved in glee. „Let everyone hear!”

...Who...? There was no one here... Was there? It was getting dark. Maybe the shadows dancing at the edges of his vision were people, after all.

So he did the only thing he felt he could still do. Eyes numb to the pain. He got... up. Up to his knees, for his body refused to climb any higher. Up, as though clawing for a shred of dignity. At this point, the liquid pooling in his mouth tasted all the sweeter when he considered it signaled his coming release. And he knew how Trahearne had felt. Yes, the darkness suddenly seemed so... appealing. Even if the quiet scared him.

He didn't want it to be so... quiet.

„I do enjoy these little get-togethers. You're proving to be quite useful.” What in the fuck was Balthazar rambling on about? He struggled to focus on the words. He let out a wheezy „what” and spat anothet mouthful of sap. M-maybe if he tried to talk, Balthazar would converse rather than slowly pull him apart. Alas, his inquiry was ignored.

But something else answered. At first, he didn't know what it was.

The God of Fire walked towards him at a leisurely pace, before finally stopping mere centimeters away from the Knight - forcing him to look practically straight up. He could no longer make out Balthazar's features, privy only to a hazy outline of horns and two burning eyes.

„Listen...” Maelmorda rasped. Even that much took an unbelievable amount of effort. A long pause, just to collect enough breath to form words. „I never... even... wanted... to kill you....”

The true threat to Tyria were the Dragons. And they could not be killed without catastrophe following. He supposed all his dreams and lofty ambitions were but delusions of a madman. In a sense, Braham was right. Who gave him the right to kill Dragons, anyway? And who made him believe he could ever stand against a God? Hubris, all the way down. His very own hamartia.

„You won't.” The deity of Fire and War answered, matter-of-factly. The clock was winding down. Sleep. Please. „...How sad for you to die so far from home.” Please. No more magic moving his strings. No more teetering on the brink of oblivion.

No more. He let out a harsh gasp and fell backwards. Balthazar seemed satisfied. He supposed he could die knowing he gave a God some exercise.

There was a light in the sky. Huh, so this is how....

He blinked. This was no star, nor an opening of the heavens. It moved. It was... blue. And he felt a tiny mind hold the hand of his own. Filling his silence with song just to keep him afloat. And he knew. And oh, he knew.

„Ah, the scion... come here to defend her Champion.”

„Aurene, no...” He cried out, sole working hand reaching out in her general direction. His mind begging her to run. Grasping at the air with twitching fingers, as though he could in any way stop the God from taking her like he took all he ever wanted. Just another conquest.

She whined like a battered pup. Tiny yelps that communicated more than language ever could. Her magic cradling his weary soul even as he felt every thread that tied him to existence snap one by one. Begging her to stop. Holding her mind's hand when she refused, for he knew all too well the pain of letting go. But Balthazar had already claimed what he came for. Played him like the fool he was. So he decided to claim one last thing, just out of spite. I want your eyes on me, now.

Aurene was whisked away from the reach of his vision, fading sight filled completely by his killer. And the sword that lingered, a stake, above his heart. „And now, you die.”

...Aurene, I'm so -

In an instant, she felt the connection sever.

What am I? Who am I?

It saw a barren sky, shorn of stars. Its eyes never blinked. It did not know what a sky was. Only that it filled its sight, the very first ephemeral memory, ever since „existence” became a concept that it knew.

But besides that, it also knew one other, much more intimate thing - an idea that existed before it did. The idea it needed to be somewhere else.

It rose. Spectral fingers digging into grass, without feeling. Chest falling and rising without breath, as though in a hazy recollection of having once carried that rhythm.

The ground was cold. What was... cold? Everything that heat wasn't. It did not know why, but it brought it comfort. The idea of being something else than cold terrified it. And so it wandered. It was the only thing it could really do. It was almost familiar, like a dreamscape that it once existed in before existence became a concept that gave it meaning.

Occasionally, it passed another spark. Heard questions, and discovered it could speak.

What is my name? Something inquired. I don't know, it answered.

What is a... name? And why does everything hurt?

In the distance, an object. It moved towards it. Beside it, stood a spark, asking questions. Inside it, stood another. Different. Almost like it did not... belong. The very moment it moved closer, it was addressed directly.

„You there! Come here. Over here. We can help each other. What is your name?”

Ah, again... that word.

„I don't even know who I am. Or where I am... Or how I got here.” It only spoke the truth. It had no concept of anything else - at least at the time. The stranger, however, seemed well versed.

„You died - it happens.” It shrugged. Seemingly unbothered at the notion of whatever death was, even though it certainly raged at the predicament of being restrained within an object. „Welcome to the Domain of the Lost. I am, of course, King Palawa Joko.”

Huh, it thought, and its mind regained a little clarity. Was „Palawa Joko” a name?

„King Joko..? I'm sorry. I don't know that name,” it gently responded. Wide, curious, trusting gold, like the eyes of a a freshly blossomed hound. Ah, yes... it missed them. Why weren't there more hounds? It felt like there were, last time. When was... last time?

Its inability to recall the name sent the stranger into a fit of anger. The spark could only tilt its head inquisitively, attempting to understand the many terms that rapidly spilled forth from chapped lips. Ah, yes... it had... a body. It was not a spark - a spirit. Like it. Why was it different?

So it asked. And received another name in response - Balthazar. It felt... familiar. But it did not feel cold, and that scared it more than anything.

It seemed this Balthazar was a liar, then. A deceiver. And it understood what it meant to lie and deceive, and some of the light left its eyes. It knew that it, too, had lied and deceived in life. But... why? Why would someone do that? A concept of a headache was something that became known right after. And yet, that gnawing, anxious sensation persisted. This was no place for it. It needed to be somewhere, but not here.

And it realized it, too, had been a he. Like Balthazar. Was he.. Balthazar? No. He can't have been, right? He had half a mind to ask Joko about it, but the amount of confusion he was already suffering was enough for the time. Such as, what the difference between „God” and „King” even was, if there was any.

He imagined that, had he really been Balthazar, King - God..? Joko would have had more to say about it. He let out a spectral sigh as he watched the other spark argue with the stranger on the proper definition of godhood. He was not sure what “Genuflect, peasant” was supposed to mean, but apparently, the Domain of the Lost was where such debates commonly took place.

„Come, gentle spirit. You must take the next steps, and I've heard enough of Joko's blasphemies.” Its - her..? voice pried him from his thoughts. She had evidently grown bored with the stranger within the object, and decided to debate him next. Oh, Mother. Wait, who was Mother? But more importantly...

„...Who is the Judge..?” He asked the fellow spark, following closely in tow. The landscape was strange and the anxiety was not going away. Even existing was difficult, like every body part was ill-fitting. Uncomfortable, like his very self was a lie.

She turned her head, coal brown meeting gold. She had a soothing air around her, like the remnants of a gentle sun. Warm. But not... scary. Not in the sense that Balthazar was.

„He is a loyal servant of Grenth. Charged with sending all the spirits who come through here to their appointed place.”

„But I don't know who I am. I don't know where I should be.” He mused sadly, as though afraid to admit he had no frame of reference. Everything simply fell away the moment he arrived here. If he even did arrive. Or had he always been here..? And yet, if so, why did it feel so wrong?

They walked the haunted plain, passing many other sparks. Some tall, some diminutive, some with beaks and fangs and tails. So many shapes to exist in that he had never fathomed. So, he looked at his hands. Compared his silver skin to that of the spark walking beside him. Bronze, soft, kissed by the sun. His was... harsher, pale, cold like snow.

Eventually, his senses were filled with the presence of something far greater than mere sparks. She beckoned for him to step forward, coaxing him gently towards the being. He was... massive. Hooded, with a skull mask for a face. He absentmindedly touched his own.

„Come, spirit. Do not be afraid.”

„I'm not sure why I'm here, or even who I am.” He confessed, resolving not to lie. In truth, he wasn't even sure.. how to, at least not at the time, but if being wretched had condemned him to that place, then nothing good could ever come of it.

The creature seemed to recognize his turmoil, and spoke in a soothing baritone. „That's because most spirits find their own way to their fate when they die.” He explained. „But those whose deaths are too traumatic often forget who they were or how they perished.”

„These spirits, like you and me, end up here in the Domain of the Lost.” The spark beside him added. Again, that name. This place. So.. wrong. Traumatic. Perished..? Right. He died. King Joko told him that.

„But I can't be here.” He tried to reason in the only words he knew. He didn't know why, nor where else he was possibly meant to be - he just knew it wasn't there. Like... warm. Too warm. Like fire.

Walls closing in from every direction, every angle, and he needed to get out. He needed to call for help, but also... he needed it to stay away. He was not to be helped. Why? There was a shadow in here with him. One other being. The only one. He felt like it had all happened before, and was the reason everything hurt. Why his skin felt like a lie, and his gaze darted around corners.

„You will reach your rightful place in time.” The grand being reassured, standing ever tall. He had to look up just to meet his gaze, and his chest moved faster.

„First, you must recover your name to know who you were and how you lived. Then, you must learn your purpose, to understand the choices you made and why you lived as you did.” The Judge continued, his bright green orbs a familiar hue. „Once you know your name and your purpose, only then can I determine your final destination.”

„...But how do I do that?” He asked. Confusion and fear swirled in gold eyes, as though the walls were already getting closer. Soon, he may be stuck here forever. A cage. Let him out. Let him out. He needs to see her.

Who?

„Nenah has traveled the path you now face. She can assist you.” The servant of Grenth clarified, an armored hand signaling in the direction of the sunlit spark. He met her eyes, and understood her name. ”...For though they may have belonged to you in life, once your name and purpose enter this domain, they are yours no longer. And you will have to fight to reclaim your name.” The creature's next words rang out with a heavy finality. „Now, arm yourself.”

And he was gone, dissolving into the shadows from whence he had come. Though he still had more questions than answers, this... was a starting point.

„Nenah... So you discovered your name? How do I reclaim mine?” The cold spark mused, unsure where to even begin. He did not want to fight other spirits for something he wasn't even sure was his. What if he ended up with the wrong name? What if he stole someone else's only hope to leave this place? Was this a price he was willing to pay? A spectral hand massaged the bridge of his nose, as though the habit had helped him process similar predicaments in life. Not that... he really even knew what „life” was - just that it wasn't „here.”

And if it wasn't here, maybe he needed to be alive.

„I learned my name from the spirit of my old mentor. But only after besting him at a challenge of riddles.” Nenah smiled sadly in recollection, letting the words linger on her tongue. ”I discovered my purpose hidden in an old diary I had written as a child. I was a teacher.”

A mentor, then. How fitting. Guiding others in life, and now again in death. A luminary in a land of darkness. „Is it that simple?” He raised his brows, hesitant to believe things could ever go so smoothly. Somehow, he had an inkling that bad luck was destined to follow him wherever he went. Call it a hunch, but... his hunches tended to be correct.

„It's different for everyone. The judge said you must fight to recover your name, so you clearly weren't a teacher.” Nenah pondered aloud, taking in his form from head to toe. His gaze followed hers, and he found himself clad in crimson fabric. Comfortable, but form-fitting clothes, accentuating his graceful shape. His shoulders, adorned with metal pauldrons - and knees guarded in a similar manner. Chainmail beneath his vest, little interwoven loops of steel. „A soldier, perhaps?”

„I... I don't know.” Despite everything, he truly did not know. The world was bleeding back in very slowly. Who's to say he was a fighter? Maybe he was a scholar? A performer? His knuckle idly moved across his lip, but he excavated nothing else from the chasm that was his memory.

Nenah sighed. „Well, if you are to fight, you must first arm yourself.”

„With what?” He asked, incredulous. For whatever reason, he had an instinct to pat himself over for hidden weapons. The woman raised a ghostly eyebrow.

„Spirits must abandon their possessions before they may move on.” She set off towards some distant yonder, and once again he followed.

„I'll look around. Maybe I will.. find something.” He sifted through foliage and rubble, even when the geometry of the place didn't make much sense. For weapons, he would usually go to... a blacksmith. A mystic forge, maybe. Mother?

„You know, I.. remember. I had a sword.” He recounted, searching for a familiar outline on the floor. Sliding across stone. Reaching for the hilt. He only had bits and pieces, but he instinctively looked low. „I think.. Mother gave me it.”

„Your mother?” Nenah chatted. „Was she a warrior, then? Was the sword a family heirloom?”

„I don't... think she was, no. But I think others have owned that blade before me. I think it... had seen the blood of its wielders.”

„Too much blood spilled everywhere, I tell you...” The fellow spark sighed. „I know all about it, gentle spirit. Though with your recent revelations, I suppose gentle may not be so fitting.”

„...Why do you think so?”

She did not answer.

It took them a long time to get anywhere with the search. He supposed time lost meaning in a place such as this - with no frame of reference, who's to say what was day and what was night? If death had already come, there was nothing to count down towards. Sifting through mud, he wondered whether eternity was always supposed to be so dull.

Here and there, other sparks. Shaped like many things - the best approximations of themselves in life that they could muster. And yet, there were also those formless. Like clouds, and their voices sounded like rain mixed with lightning static. Nenah warned him away from those. He supposed that was what awaited if one did not reclaim their name.

And then some who spoke in nonsense and riddles. Cryptic warnings, issued from behind trembling hands, as though covering one's face rendered them invisible. It's coming, they whispered. What, he asked.

„...The Beast. And It will get you too.”

Before he could ask any additional questions, the spark... evaporated. Pure magic in the air, and then nothing. Wherever they had gone, he hoped they had at least escaped It.

„...Is it Balthazar?”

„Who?” The teacher turned to face him as he sifted through a pile of sand.

„The Beast. It's the worst thing I have heard spoken of, here. It feels like it matches with that name.” He had no better ideas, anyway. Each step into the unknown unlocked something - not always useful, but he was determined to connect the dots. Even when he grasped at straws.

„Oh, Balthazar? No, no. He's one of the Human Gods. The Six. And he betrayed them.”

„He betrayed them? He lied and deceived them? Why?”

„No one knows. One day, he just... did. And the Beast has been here ever since.”

The sand moved with a gust of wind. A shine caught his eye, and he moved closer.

And there it was, halfway buried, as though attempting to take root. A ghostly image of his sword - slotting neatly into his hand. Like it was meant to be there. Like it had been, for a long, long time.

„Huh.” Nenah gave Caladbolg a good lookover, before coal eyes met honey gold.

„I know now. I was a soldier.” There was conviction in the spark's voice. A newfound confidence, even when facing his truths came at a cost. His words gradually turned quiet. „I... don't think I was a good man. I lied and deceived. I think I wanted something very much.”

Nenah lingered in silence. A hand of sun-kissed bronze rested upon one of the cold spark's shoulders, feeling metal. A reassurance, perhaps. Or simply an acknowledgement. Whatever it was, her smile gave him the strength to keep going.

„Look. Over here.” She suddenly yanked him, pulling him behind a cover of trees. And then, himself.

Red cloth, bronze tinted metal. Stealing fervent glances, as though afraid of every shadow. That expression of prey-animal terror did not suit his features.

„That spirit... it looks just like me.”

„We should follow. Hurry!” They ran after it, and it broke into a sprint. It weaved inbetween rocks and trees, heading for a cave shrouded in webs. A dead end. His gold eyes met their own reflection, and his mirror image screamed.

The Thorn moved like second nature, and the dagger fell out of their hand. And so, the illusion shattered - a small creature huddled, weeping, where his warped self had been. „I yield!” It screeched. „I yield. Take it! It's yours.”

He still held the Thorn - a show of power, though he did not intend to strike down the thief. „Why did you steal my name?” Gone was the mellow calm with which he arrived. The timbre of his voice changed - and so too did the look in his eyes. No longer honey, but liquid gold. „Answer me.”

And the creature wept, for it did not know any better. But he still did not remember. Why he fought, why he lied, why he killed.

„Keep looking.” The same guiding hand rested once again upon his shoulder. Though steady, her tone was filled with urgency. „If you don't reclaim your name quickly, you could lose it forever.”

And so, he fought - like the soldier he was. And as each spark begged for his mercy, doubt surfaced in his spirit.

„What if it was.. an evil name? What if finding who I am will make me worse?” He questioned, feeling the heat radiating from his bark. Pain. The sword in his hand was singed and black. It hurt. He did not remember, but the pain was growing. „What if where I am meant to go is even...”

„That's not for you to dwell on. Your task here is merely to find it. There is nothing more for ones such as we.”

„Nothing more..?”

„Your name and your purpose are all there is. And since more than one have claimed your name, it means it must be a prestigious one. Now, ask yourself. If yours were an evil name, then would they still seek to make it theirs?”

„...Do they know who I was? And if so, then why don't I..?”

„You will. All things in time. So fight, noble spirit.”

And he fought. Until the tide of shadows finally stopped coming. And the dam holding back his tears broke.

„I remember.” He lifted his clawed hand, watching his digits tremble with each new memory that surfaced in his hollowed mind. „My life... was filled with conflict.” Always war. Always killing. „Victory... and loss. I was a leader - a commander. I was...”

A Dreamer. A Valiant. A son. A Knight. A Commander. A Champion. A Dragonkiller. A Lichslayer.

„...Maelmordha. Yes. This is who I was.” A name, of his own. Something that felt right and not like a lie - even if the pain never went away.

Umber eyes lit up with the gentlest smile. „I could tell, Maelmordha. You wielded that weapon like a true fighter.”

„But I don't know why I fought... what I strove for, or against.” The sylvari spirit looked down, amber orbs filled with indescribable longing. It was all so very tiring, and he felt bad for relying on Nenah's guidance so extensively. Didn't she have a place to be..?

Didn't she, too, feel like she had to be somewhere else?

„Next is your purpose. What drove you forward... and what ultimately led to your death. The answer is here, somewhere in the Domain of the Lost.”

„...I just have to find it.” He finished her thought. She smiled, and nodded. He returned the gesture. „But how will I know it? Where will I find it?”

The words that came next were nothing but cryptic - as his guide slowly made her way onward, as though knowing exactly where to go. „If you truly desire it... your purpose will find you. I'd start with the bird.”

„A bird..?” The fallen necromancer questioned. And then he saw it: a raven of brilliant white. Its feathers alight with a sheen that reminded him of home - like Mother's petals. And he remembered Her, and each lullaby She used to sing. „Come! I need to -”

He tripped over a stray root, and realized it was moving. The ground itself shook and parted beneath his feet, tendrils slithering like snakes as a beast - a Dragon - rose in the distance. Grand, like a monument of leaf and vine, and in front of it - a pair of lights. Caithe, one of the Firstborn. And himself. Images of the eldest Knight of Thorn, Riannoc, his blade of alabaster bark glowing with the light of hope. Caladbolg itself, which now rested in his care. And on the other end, a lich, his skeletal hands commanding death like a putrid orchestra - drowning the First Knight in a sea of corpses.

Fear not this night, you will not go astray.

The raven flew ever onward, unfurling a sea of memories. And he ran after it, hand outstretched, mouth forming a silent call.

Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way.

It weaved through the darkness like a lone bolt of lightning through blackened storm clouds. He took Nenah's hand, pulling her along - afraid to let go, but infinitely more scared to lose track of the light. And they ran. „My eyes are - they're open, Nenah!”

„Good! Let yourself feel it, and let it wash over you. He who follows his purpose will never truly lose it!”

Awaken from a quiet sleep, hear the whispering of the wind. Awaken as the silence grows in a solitude of the night.

From the dark, twisting shapes. The stench of rot and clattering of bone as a tide of Zhaitan's legions marched against the army of the Pact. Mazdak, the Accursed, fallen at last at his hand – his first Hunt fulfilled. Sieran's parting words as the gates closed. The Sunless' advance and the fall of Claw Island. The tears shed that day, and the promises made to live on in spite of them. And then, in the end, their banners, raised high upon the towers - him and Trahearne, side by side.

Darkness spreads through all the land and your weary eyes open silently

Sunsets have forsaken all, the most far off horizons.

And again, they charged. Roar of gunfire and steel. Wyld Hunts that seemed all but impossible, keeping steadfast hand in hand. And the heart of it all, cleansed and beating again, as he remembered holding him for the first time. And laughing.

Nightmares come when shadows grow. Eyes close and heartbeats slow.

The assault on Arah. The thundering of war engines and the roar of airships. Destiny's Edge standing united, and him leading the final push. Zhaitan's death throes shattering the mountain, sending the Dragon itself crashing from blighted heavens towards the shoreline. Victory, and the first kiss shared in the dim light of a study. Why was he crying? Like he was already aware what came next.

Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way.

„Mordremoth!”

It all unfolded in quick succession. Ceara's fall; Scarlet Briar. The assault on Lion's Arch. Aurene's egg and Caithe's betrayal. The disaster of Maguuma, all that death and then - past the horror of it all - holding his dear's broken, dying body as the foul magic bled out of his system in rivers of gold. The Thorn trembled in his hands, but he knew not to let it go. The day his eyes turned cold. He felt Nenah's hand squeeze his own.

And you can always be strong. Lift your voice with the first light of dawn.

His hatred. His bitterness. And Her light, which saved him.

The founding of Dragon's Watch. The awakening of Primordus and Jormag. Braham's burden and the wrath in his words as he snapped. A bridge, burned to ashes - a wound that they would no longer have the chance to mend.

And Her, coming into the world at last. Caithe's words, and her vow. To lay down her life for -

„Aurene.” He found himself repeating his own words. „Her name is Aurene.”

Dawn's just a heartbeat away. Hope's just a sunrise away.

The rise of Lazarus. A mystery of the great deceiver. Climbing the spire as everything around them began to burn, and yet they knew the only way was up. He knew the only was was up.

It had always been like that, hmm, Commander?

The raven disappeared into the smoke, and he dove after it. Coughing, as though his lungs remembered the feeling. White leaves singed black and then he lost her in the fire. „Nenah! Where are you!” He could no longer feel her hand. His fellow spark had disappeared, and only Balthazar's pyre remained. The planks behind him crackled and crumbled as burning heat cut off the way back. So he climbed. Following each white feather. Humming Mother’s lullaby.

„...Have your friends abandoned you?” He could hear the God's mockery in his ears. His oppression, his glee, the sadistic pleasure he took in prolonging his every breath. And then, Aurene. Reaching for him. Damning herself just for a chance to save him.

And still, in the end, she was taken, and he died with no one to hold him. His last words frozen in his throat. But now, he screamed. He screamed and wept and his eyes shot open only to find his fellow spirit clutching his hand tightly within hers. And he looked into coal orbs and in his tormented mind, they seemed to flash crimson, shadowed by a crown of horns.

„...Balthazaaaaar!!” He howled like an animal, thrashing. A hand pushed down on his chest, keeping him on his back, before pulling his head into her lap. „Shh. Shh. There, there. Just breathe. Like you remember. Even like this, it helps.”

Tears streamed freely down silver skin as he wept in terror, clawed hand outstretched towards the sky. But there was no Aurene. No dark clouds cutting him off from the world. No Balthazar, staring down at him like yet another broken toy, balancing his blade over his heart. So, he did the only thing he could. He cried, allowing the mentor spirit to gently pet back his leaves, quelling the sobs that shook his body.

„...I remember. I remember.” He repeated, the most quiet of whimpers. Wet, haunted gold found umber again as he spoke. „Balthazar - he wants revenge on the other gods, and he's going to use Aurene to get it. I... I have to convince the Judge to send me back.”

„Rest, silver tongue. Death is not something to outwit.”

„You don't understand.” He gathered himself enough to stand and walk, even as his knees shook with every step. „That bastard will destroy Tyria. All of it. This isn't about me and my ego, for fuck's sake!” The Commander broke into a sprint. Moving as fast as his legs would carry him, causing the Elonian spirit to struggle to keep up. „He wants the strength of the Elder Dragons for himself, and doesn't care that killing them now will doom the world!”

„I see.” Nenah responded. There was deep concern upon her face, now, as the true weight of all that had transpired took the time to fully settle and click into place. „...He has ravaged this place. Stolen spirits and used them to bolster his army. He has let something horrible into this place, something beyond even Grenth's jurisdiction.”

Maelmordha paused, stern gold meeting her gaze. „The Beast. Come. We need to move!”

As soon as they arrived in the Judging Ground, the grand spirit rose again from the shadows, a visage of skull and green fire ready to welcome them both. Recognizing Nenah and sensing the distress within her companion, he turned his full attention to Maelmordha.

„Grenth welcomes all, noble spirit. Step forward, and I will send you to your appointed place.”

But the necromancer had other ideas. He took exactly one step in the Judge's direction, setting his boot down with absolute conviction. „You must let me go back.”

For a moment, there was absolute silence. If the Judge could produce an expression, he would surely have frowned. A spectral sigh laced his words when he next spoke, weighting them carefully. „...I see you clearly now, Commander. Balthazar killed you, but you would face him again?

„Yes.” The sylvari replied immediately, filled with fervent - perhaps even crazed - determination. Yes, a thousand times yes. Even when it hurt. He couldn't just let her... He grit his teeth, releasing a quivering breath.

„Balthazar has done great harm here.” Grenth's right hand confirmed what Nenah had already told him. „The magic he uses to hijack spirits shakes the foundation of the Domain of the Lost. But I... cannot help you.”

No..! No, this wasn't going to end this way. He would not let it. By the Tree, he had to bargain.

Mael took another step, lacing fingers together as though in prayer and slowly shaking his hands with every word. „If I could only get back... if I could defeat him, it might undo the damage he's done in both our worlds.” There. He was officially bargaining with Death himself. Or, rather, his right hand, but the point still stood.

The Judge sighed painfully, sending ripples through the aether. „It is too late. No life remains in your body. Unless...”

Unless? Fucking hell, he was actually getting somewhere.

„When Balthazar left, a fearsome beast, the Eater of Souls, rose to prey on the waning life energy of the spirits here....”

Nenah moved closer. „That's got to be the screams I heard in the distance. So, it is true, after all.”

„...If you were to defeat the beast and claim its power, that life energy might be strong enough to reanimate your body.” The Judge continued. „Allowing you to go back. But, if you were to fail, the beast would consume your entirety. I could grant you no final reward or punishment. Your spirit would simply cease to be. Do you.. really want this, Commander? You will be changed. There is no other way. As a necromancer, you know what this entails.”

He did. Oh, he did. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sound froze in his throat.

Riannoc...! He tried to shake the memory from the Dream. Lose the ghost of the man whose Wyld Hunt he once bore. No, this was bigger than him. Bigger than all of them. That bastard had Aurene, and if she...

Maelmordha clenched his fists. Gaze downturned, shrouded in white leaves. His shoulders shook with the weight of the choice placed in front of him. With the phantom of his people's very first nightmare. Did he... have the right? To do this? And if so, who gave him it? Who allowed this man to play God in his own right?

He supposed the answer was standing right in front of him. Gazing with green orbs, waiting patiently for his reply. „Grenth does not take kindly to those who defy his domain. But he is willing to forgive this one transgression, in the name of both our worlds. You will become something different, and if you ever go astray, you will no longer be entitled to your final reward.”

„Diabolistic magic...” He muttered under his breath. His fellow spark looked on with worry. Softly, her hand once again found his shoulder, resting upon it with comforting weight. „Whatever you decide, I will help you see it through til the end. So, think - for what does your purpose call?”

Did it call for him to fall this low? And yet... if it was the only way to save Aurene - to save Tyria, then did he ever really have a choice at all? He took a breath, and his golden gaze rose anew, finding ghastly green.

„...I accept that risk. I have to go back to finish what I started.”

Clawed gauntlets rose into the air, the Judge's mask angled towards the jade-hued skies. „Then in Grenth's name, o blessed sinner, conquer the Eater of Souls and live again! Remind Balthazar that none escape judgement.”

With a snap of the servant's fingers, crimson fabric set on viridian fire, and in an instant, his body was framed in darksteel. A long, black cape extended from beneath the upturned spikes of his new pauldrons, ornate gauntlets wrapping around his forearms and tall, metal greaves fitting upon his legs. A disc of magic flared to life over his sternum, like an eye of Death itself.

He took a moment to inspect his new armor, finding it a perfect fit. „...Thank you.” He gasped, unsure at first what to make of the gift. And yet he could feel no ill magics from it - nothing meant to limit or control him, only accentuate his existing power.

„Let this be proof of Grenth's favor. An exceptional honor, in exchange for your willing sacrifice. Go, blessed sinner, and may your soul remain your own through this dire tribulation.”

„It will. You have my word.” And he turned around, features dark and the Thorn on his back ready.

After all, he who bore Caladbolg would not fall, so long as his desire was pure. Funny how that turned out. Did the sword's apparent curse carry on in death? He'd have to find out.

„Allow me to lead you, Maelmordha. The Beast stalks the deepest shadows of this land. Those spirits we've met earlier...”

„...It may already be too late for them.” He finished the teacher's thought. „I'm sorry, Nenah. But I cannot allow you to go with me, this time.” If he were to be devoured... ah, would it not simply be due payment for his hubris...? But her? She had done nothing but help him. „This is a journey I must take alone.”

„Even when dying alone was your greatest fear?” She retorted, causing the necromancer to seize up. He did not look at her, simply continuing to walk forth into the darkness. „...Thank you, Nenah. But I will take this from here.”

„As you wish, blessed sinner.” And just like that, her footsteps no longer accompanied his.

And in the deepest depths where even the raven did not delve, he found it. A hideous demon of blue fire, contorting into whatever fears his mind held to finally settle on the form of a Mouth of Zhaitan. Towering, with rows of fangs ready to snatch him up where he stood. How did one fight hunger incarnate..? He drew the Thorn, and charged.

The same rules did not apply here as in the waking world. This was not only a fight of tooth against thorn, but a dance of nightmare. Like every worst part of him, reflected right back in his face. The shadows had been nothing, compared to this. They only wanted his name, after all.

Oh, the Beast? It wanted everything. To strip his soul, down to the marrow. And in the end, it had been decided all along. To conquer the Mouth was to embrace its hunger. To take for himself another name. Even if he had to become a worse version of himself, he would do it in every life. His right hand's fingers traced a symbol on his heart. Chanting an ancient curse, the same forbidden verse he spent his first five years researching. The Commander's spirit ignited in black smoke, Caladbolg a Reaper's scythe.

...Do you really want this, Commander?

You wouldn't have gotten so far if not for your hunger.

...A hunger to succeed. To be recognized. To have power. You greedy creature, always reaching for more than you can swallow until the God of Flames finally made you choke on it. And yet, you'd return? To do it all over again? Don't you see how far you've already fallen - from a bright eyed Valiant to a wolf gripping tight the reins of all those who would dare question and oppose you? You're a killer, you know, right? You're never satisfied. And no matter what you do and how much you achieve, it will never be enough.

You can drink til you're sick but never til you're satisfied. You will lose your Dream but your Hunt shall never end. Is this what you want?

To save her. Yes. I will do anything.

Will you be anything?

Yes.

Waken then, Fell Wolf, and hunt.

Kill Balthazar, and devour.

The monstrous body before him fell, dissolving into shadow. His scythe still lodged in its burning core, he felt the cold flicker climb up his weapon and touch ground with his skin.

The demon's magic flooded his senses. The world swirled in front of his eyes, a gaze of spectral gold darting around in terror. He saw the lost sparks return, freed from the beast's belly, as they all moved in unison towards Judgement. The Domain breathed a sight of relief - and then he felt his chest rip open.

And he screamed. By the Pale Tree he fucking screamed. Feeling every second of the blade digging into and parting his flesh, crushing organs and searing his insides. Except now, the blackness offered no relief. There was no merciful veil of Death to take the pain away, to ease his body's last gasp as embers took his lungs. And the flames did not burn his throat and steal his voice. At some point, the agonal screech turned into a howl, and his eyes wept spectral light.

Seizing, he fell to his knees. His armor glowed a deep cerulean - and more metal enveloped the Commander's form. He scarcely registered it, even when links of chain snaked round his heaving chest and hooked into the gaping cavity of his wound.

It was almost a mockery. Almost a voice, sneering into his ear. This is what you are. Do you regret it yet?

„Aaaargghh!” His own voice burst forth in strained cries. Calling names as though their owners could ever help him. „Pale Mother! Aurene! Grenth!”

No one will save you now, either. You chose this. Maelmordha, you poor, poor fool.

It felt like ages but the pain relented just enough to leave the fallen Knight gasping and wheezing in a ghastly approximation of life. Collecting his stolen breath, registering a familiar sensation upon his cheeks before he ever realized he was crying. Again. And only then did he get to truly, wholly gaze upon his form - the warped image of his own demise, seared forever into his soul.

Trembling fingers probed at the edges of his wound - the very one that killed him - and found fangs. Rows of umbral teeth, licked by flickering tongues of blue fire. This had to be... was this real? Absently, he reached inside, half expecting the slick wetness of entrails. Instead, he found only cold nothingness, and a pulse at the core of it all. A rhythmic thrum of magic where his heart had been, just barely out of reach, yet begging for his touch.

Focus, the magic whispered. The Alchemy bends to your whim. Death's defector, defiler of Nature. So he did. And the dark became corporeal.

Transfixed, he pulled on the object, and out emerged a sword of midnight. Blue veins running along its surface, magic pulsing to the beat of the orb that lay at its center; Connecting the hilt and the blade. And he felt his new heartbeat, bare within his hand. Bound to his maw with chain like some eldritch stem, bridging the gap between man and demon. The first fang of the bound Wolf, and then the second - Dromi and Lædingr.

They slotted into his grip as though he had never been meant to hold anything else. Extensions of his ambition and his sin. These blades, they felt nothing like Caladbolg. Where the Mother's Thorn tasted of light and grief, these weapons? They were forged of naught but gnawing hunger, pulled straight from the pit of his stomach.

„I'm...” He was almost afraid to have a witness. But he did. And slowly, he lifted his gaze again, finding his fellow spirit staring back with what could only be described as somber pity. „...Nenah, why did you come... I'm...”

What am I?

A Dreamer. A Valiant. A son. A Knight. A Commander. A Champion. A Dragonkiller. A Lichslayer. A... his sight was blurry.

„I'm... so...”

Static enveloped his mind. Ghastly blue light burned within his eyes.

„I'm... so... hurrggh....”

He was ravenous. He - it - the Soul Eater.

Someone called out. Their words but white noise in the void of his thoughts.

Slowly, he walked. Tips of his swords dragging against the ground and gouging the earth. The magic inside him pulsed like the want that moved his jaws. The desire that now held together his spirit. This unholy, aberrant, ugly spirit. Pounding in his split-open chest, the war-drum of instinct drowning out every alarm bell in his mind.

Devour. This is what you are. This is what you chose. Didn't you?

„...Remember...”

A voice. Did it matter? They all screamed at the precipice between worlds. Their words made no difference.

„...Remember who you are...! Remember why you did this..!”

Aurene? No, she was...

Who - whose name was this? What was a name?

„Blessed sinner..!”

Who?

There was the sensation of weight wrapping around his wrists. He growled, lips twitching. And in that moment, his mind surfaced - searching for something, anything, to keep itself afloat.

„Remember your name! Maelmordha..!”

And he snapped back. Blue eyes back to yellow, swords dissolving and chest stitching shut. A gasp, as though his soul yet remembered the rush of air in his lungs. And he found dark eyes, holding the gaze of his own - a lifeline for a dead man.

The eyes of a woman who never knew him. A woman who had nothing to gain from this, and everything to lose.

„...Why..?” He mouthed. Utter silence in his mind aside from that singular question. „...Why did you risk your li - your existence? I could have -” Mael scowled, bringing gloved hands before his face. His digits shook with the strain of keeping himself together.

He could have eaten her. Erased her. Even now she caused this beast's mouth to water. A soul - a light - pure magic. He knew now how Dragons felt, and if the hunger hurt so much, then were they ever truly to blame..?

There was conviction in Nenah's eyes as she once again took hold of the sylvari's wrists, pulling them down as to force the fallen Commander to meet her gaze. „This isn't about... what you could have done to me. Nor what could happen to you. This world is falling apart at the seams because of Balthazar. I believe... I'm here, because Kormir wanted me to help you.”

„Kormir..?”

The Goddess of Truth who could only smile sadly as she departed. No actions taken, only words of hollow solace - as she abandoned them all. Abandoned her people. He wasn't human, but witnessing the heartbreak on Kasmeer's face? He might as well have been. „Kormir left us. Left Tyria behind. The Gods have relinquished all claim to this realm -”

„And yet you're here. And you'll live again. With Grenth's own blessing. So who's to say they really left us? Who's to say they abandoned us when they still guide us?”

Mael closed his mouth. The teacher was right. This was an angle he hadn't truly stopped to consider - and what right did he have to stomp down on the hope that still remained for the people? Living or dead, they all needed a light to lead the way. Gods and spirits for men, Dream for sylvari. Heroes and concepts to hold onto - invariably, no one ever wanted to go alone into the dark.

To trudge on, not knowing what awaits on the other side. The necromancer's voice came in a soft whisper.

„...You're right. I'm sorry. And... thank you.” Maelmordha swallowed, desperately pushing down his racing thoughts. He forced an apologetic smile, a last look at the fellow spirit who had accompanied him for so long. „So... I guess this is goodbye.”

„So it is.” She returned a smile of her own. In that moment, the humble teacher truly looked like the Goddess she so loved. And he could see that love burn bright. It would be the beacon that lit her way to her final reward, far, far away from the war that took her and those she mentored. A war he'd return to, damned as he was - to make sure it took no one else. Perhaps it was a fool's notion, but a chuckle broke through the silence nonetheless.

„Good luck wherever you're going, and... Pray for me, would you?”

„I will, Commander. Trust in Grenth. And know that everything happens for a reason.” She let go, a final nod offered his way before she turned around, heading towards the Judge.

And so, Maelmordha turned his gaze towards the precipice of worlds, knowing he now possessed the strength to bridge them. But one more voice vied for his attention - someone he unfortunately recognized. Once again demanding to be the center of the world, now with the added bonus of kissing ass. A smirk crept onto the Commander's features.

„Look who's groveling. Genuflect, Your Majesty.”

And so began the worst lich feud in Tyrian history, but that was a tale for another time.

”Gods, I... I can't even bear to look at him.” The mesmer's body shook with stifled sobs. Tears charting dark lines down pale skin - washing away the paint from her lids.

Tribune Brimstone could only frown, jaws parting to offer some form of solace just before he remembered he was never any good with words. And so, lips fell over fangs again, safekeeping solemn silence. „Yeah... yeah.”

He always did make everything worse, didn't he...? Green orbs wandered back to the proof of his failure. The haphazard veil that covered the worst of the Commander's wounds was soaked in sap. Empty eyes now resting closed, the poor bastard looked almost eerily peaceful. Almost as though he were merely resting. It didn't suit him to be so dark in the evening, though. That ruby light was gone and the soldier in Rytlock - all he had ever been - knew better than to dwell on death as humans did. It wasn't sleep. No gods to kiss it all better. And all that blood and gore couldn't be dressed in words in a way that made it pretty.

„He's done so much and I can't... I can't even look...”

Kas was still crying. Rytlock winced. Clawed hand hovered over her form, as though debating whether his touch could offer any superficial semblance of comfort. Ultimately, it retreated, and his tail flicked uncomfortably. With a deep rumble, he excavated his voice.

„...He wouldn't have wanted you to.” There was no point. He was gone anyway, so it didn't matter. At least he wasn't in pain anymore. And, well, Commander never did want anyone else to have to suffer for no reason. „Shit, how we gonna break this to Taimi...”

„That's what I'm worried about. Kid won't take this too well.” Canach sighed, raising himself up from his kneeling position. „Aren't you the Watch's second? Should I call you Commander, yet?”

„Shut it, weed.” The snarl came on its own before he ever had the chance to reel in his anger. A growl seeped past the Blood Tribune's teeth, and he pinched the bridge of his snout. „Look, just - just let me think. Or make the call yourself if you have so much yapping left in you.”

Uncharacteristically, Canach merely sat quietly away to the side, closer to the body. For a brief moment, the Secondborn's stern gaze met that of the charr, before both men promptly looked away. It was clear the former convict had no interest in petty arguments at the time - whatever words he did have locked firm behind his teeth.

„I'll do it.” A meek voice picked up from the back. Rytlock's head turned, only for green orbs to meet dim blues. Lady Meade looked positively pathetic. And yet, though her eyes were framed by streaks of runny makeup, her expression was one of tired determination. Rytlock chuffed.

„You sure? You aren't looking too-”

„I said I'd do it. So, let me.”

Silence. Kasmeer raised her hand to her ear to dial on the device, and the comms crackled to life. One last shaky breath, and a tiny voice came through.

„Yes? Hello? Guys, is everything alright?” The small prodigy chirped in a fervent tone. Her voice cracked towards the end and Kasmeer Meade could feel her heart crack in tandem. „...Please tell me everything's alright.”

„Oh, Taimi. Baby, I'm so sorry.”

„Kas? Kas - I - Kas tell me what's - No no no please don't tell me he's -”

Despite the fresh tears tugging at her waterline, the mesmer knew she had to say it. „Shhh, I'm so sorry. Mael's gone, Taimi.”

It was as though the full weight of it only really sank in at that moment. Rytlock's glare seemed to actively want to bury itself in the dirt, while Canach turned away to gaze silently off into the distance. Even Kasmeer felt a fresh knot twist within her gut only to release, all that horrible, horrible tension burning like living fire the very second she heard Taimi's voice quiver on the other end of the line.

„No.. no, no.. Kas this isn't funny...” She sniffled, and the mage of Lyssa could oh so easily visualize the little girl shaking her head over in her lab. Just like when she argued with Phlunt, or any other scientist. Always so very confident in herself, and what she believed in.

„No, this isn't FUNNY, don't LIE to me, he's FINE! He's the Commander - he's - he's FINE - go check! Do the light test on his eyes - t-take his pulse - s-sylvari don't have easily accessible carotids b-but -”

„Taimi...”

Another click, and Canach joined the line. „Taimi, there wasn't even a need to check.”

„Canach!” Kasmeer could only gasp at the swordsman's blunt intrusion. „Canach, I swear on the Six -”

„Make that Five. He's dead, kid. That's a whole God that got him. Could tell the moment we looked.”

„Fucking burn me, have some tact!” Rytlock snapped, earning a scornful glance from the sylvari. The tension could very well be cut with a knife.

„Or what? Thorns, sometimes you have to be direct. Grow some spine, you people!”

„That's a CHILD!”

„...I'm still on the line. I-I’m not a child! I can hear you all. I'm sorry. I j-just -” Taimi's voice broke again, dissolving into a series of wheezy sobs. Kas's heart dropped. She was having an episode. The mesmer wasted no time in briefly disconnecting her communicator.

„Shut UP! Both of you!” The outburst was so out of character that both Rytlock and Canach promptly fell silent. Having achieved her immediate goal, the mesmer tapped the device again. „Talk to me, Taimi.” Walk her through this, Kasmeer, just like Mael used to. Don't let him down, now. This is the least you can do.

„I'm - I-I'm just... I'm so sorry I screamed.” The teenager sniffled, interrupting herself with a hiccup. „I-I knew the odds were bad... I just didn't want it to be true...”

Lady Meade smiled painfully, mustering up every bit of comfort in her voice. Oh, how she wished she could be there with her - lay her hand gently upon the asura's head and pet her hair. Just like he always did.

„It's alright. Everyone reacts in their own way. It isn't your fault. Shh. Shh. It's okay...”

„If I - I-if I weren't taking a break at the time I could have noticed the energy readings were shifting and he - B-Balthazar - was changing course - and we could have warned him before the storm set in and comms died -”

„...You know this isn't true. You can't always work. If you had overworked yourself, you could have missed something else, baby. We may all have been dead. You could have gotten hurt from overdoing it.” The only thing she could do now was speak and listen. Between herself and the Dawnborn, she wasn't ever really sure who was better at talking people down. „...He wouldn't have wanted this, alright? Commander - Mael - wouldn't have wanted you to aggravate your condition. None of us do.”

„H-he was the first person who really, truly took me seriously!” Taimi was spiraling. „What I do is my choice! And I could have saved him! I could have... Alchemy...”

Her tired body was giving out, too drained to argue in vain with herself. Deep down, she knew. She knew that she had been powerless to stop it. That even the Dragonslayer had no hope to kill a God, and it was a childish thought to even entertain. That deep down, Mael himself knew he was marching to his death, but his Wyld Hunt drove him onward anyway.

Just like shackles and chain. Being pulled ever towards the gallows, with no ability to run. And yet, he shouldered his fate with a smile.

Even when she watched him grow bitter and jaded he always found it in himself to smile for her.

„...You did your best. That is more than enough.” Kas' lids fell shut, forcing out the last tear that still lingered in the corner of her vision. „He's proud of you. I know.”

Wherever he was. If he was... anywhere. She didn't have the heart nor the stomach to consider the full implications of Grenth leaving. When she next opened her eyes, her vision was swimming - and not because of the desert heat, which had long since given way to a brisk evening chill. Taimi seemed to have calmed down, and only the occasional quiet sniffle still registered on their shared frequency. The Meade sat down on a rock, fearing her own legs too feeble to keep her upright for long.

„...So, what do we do?” It was Rytlock who next broke the silence. „It's late and there may still be some Forged in the area. Wouldn't exactly want a bullet through the skull and an early ticket back to the Mists. Would hate to disappoint Commander like that.”

Again, he thought to add. He bit his tongue.

„...I'll stay here and get a breath of fresh air.” Canach sighed, the usual edge to his tone replaced by bitter, cold apathy. „If you want to go back to the ship, then go. I need to collect my thoughts.”

„I'll cloak us, just to be safe. Let Fidus know to post sentries and be on a lookout for trouble.” Exhaustion was not going to stop Kasmeer from being cautious, and this was simple magic, anyway. With a wave of her hand and reality rippling beneath her force, the top of the Spire was encased in an invisible bubble. Reflecting sight, just like a one way mirror. If anyone else wandered inside, she'd know.

In the end, none of them had it in themselves to go back - not yet. A quiet vigil for the fallen. For a leader. For a friend

It felt like several hours had passed. The night was silent and uneventful, an air of tranquility fallen over where tragedy had struck. Ash and dust long since scattered to the wind, there was scarcely a trace of the battle. Only charred foliage, cooled armor strewn about here and there, and three broken people trying to decide where to go from there. But the night, though quiet, held danger nonetheless. Teasing fate was a fool's errand in these lands.

„It's high time we move. I'll... get the body. Set a course for Amnoon.” The revenant spoke, and the airship's crew began preparations for takeoff. Kasmeer and Canach wordlessly nodded, their gazes following Rytlock as he walked up once again towards the center of the Spire.

...The very last thing Kasmeer Meade expected was to hear Rytlock holler her name with borderline panic in his voice.

„Uh, Kas?!”

„What is it?!” Both her and Canach were already running from the deck back to the plateau, weapons drawn and half prepared to find Forged come to hunt them down and finish what Balthazar started.

But Forged did not have blue eyes. Whatever stared back at them from the very center of the Spire was no soldier of Fire. A figure shrouded in shadow, darkness itself gathering where it stood to leave its features obscured and nigh unrecognizable. Stark blue eyes seemingly lost interest in gazing into Rytlock's own in favor of inspecting the sheet of gold-soaked cloth held in one hand.

„Get back!” The charr ignited Sohothin, wide arc of his sword a warning to both sides. „Where is the bo - where is he?!”

The stranger's head turned, shifting shadows offering a glimpse of white hair. Aether warped their words, like the Mists themselves speaking. „Rytlock...”

And yet, the sound of his name in their - in his lips was recognizeable beyond all doubt. „Kasmeer! What in the hells! Is this one of yours or am I going mad?!”

„What do you mean mine - you can't be - since when do I -” The mesmer was tripping over her words, staff clutched tightly. She could smell necromancy anywhere. Jory, and Mael - she's spent so long around them, but this felt familiar and different at the very same time. A darkness she knew well, but somehow wrong. A twisted image of Grenth's magic that sent alarms going off in her brain and overwhelmed her thoughts. That aura was oppressive.

„Is that...” Canach mouthed, incredulous.

„No. It's not.” Brimstone bared his fangs, tail lashing wildly against the ground. „I've been there. I know what lurks there. This isn't him. It's a demon.”

The figure's eyes seemed almost sad. He dismissed the notion.

„Grrraaaahh!!” With a mighty leap, he charged, fury burning in his eyes - challenging the reflection of the ghost fire that razed Ascalon. If this beast thought he'd let it defile the Commander's body, it was dead fucking wrong.

Split seconds before Sohothin could sink its fangs into a gap in darksteel armor, the stranger's chest opened. A jagged maw of teeth.

„Pale Mother!” Canach gasped, and Kasmeer covered her mouth. Taimi came online and hurled a hundred questions over the comms.

Their swords met with a spectral chime. Like a rung bell, living flame against one cold and dead. That strength. How did so much power fit in such a small, feeble sylvari body? The charr grit his teeth, air hissing past his brandished fangs. A deadlock.

„Rytlock! Stand down!” The stranger repeated, forcibly. The Tribune's mind flashed back to their last fight. Pain and rage seethed in jade orbs, muscles pushing with all their might against the single sword that halted his advance. „...No. I won't let you. You don't deceive me!”

Blue eyes that gazed from where gold had once been narrowed. „I thought I had made myself clear before, Tribune. I won't take no for an answer.”

A pulse of dark magic repelled Sohothin, forcing Rytlock back. His weight shifted dangerously, hind claws struggling to find purchase. Green orbs shot wide open - he was exposed, and the dark blade was more than capable of ending him right then and there.

So he focused, a last ditch-effort; With a mighty beat, crystalline wings sprouted from his back - the Dragon Prophet's own visage bursting from the Mists to lend him her strength.

And then she just... stopped. The Commander - the stranger's free hand was outstretched, and he felt every nerve in his body refuse to listen. „What in the...” Some blasted chains - wrapped around him, wrapped around even Glint before her fleeting facet dissipated.

He felt familiar magic swallow him in rosy light and he was yanked back, appearing in a portal next to Kasmeer. Her and Canach had both stepped forward to shield him with their bodies, but made no move to advance. Hesitating? Now, of all times..?! He was about to tell them off before he noticed that very same spell binding them in place, every fibre of their bodies frozen and helpless to the fates.

„Burn me! Rrraahh!!” He raged against his restraints, soul reaching out through the Mists to call for aid. Any aid. What was a charr to do to get some fucking reinforcements around these parts?! Glint, Jalis, even the blasted Shiro Tagachi or Mallyx, it made no difference. The voices in his head fell silent, unwilling or unable to manifest his magic. He was stuck, and this monster was going to kill them all.

Balthazar didn't even have to get his hands any dirtier and come finish the job. Some random fucking demon was all it took. I'm sorry, Commander. It seems I can't stop messing up.

But the killing blow did not come. The blade that emerged out of the portal mouth upon the bastard's chest simply went right back in like his body was some twisted scabbard. Split open by a God's wrath and this demon was hell-bent on making a mockery of even the Commander's death. What a joke.

„...Rytlock...”

„Stop it. Just, get it over with. I've some dignity to keep.” His fur stood on end, hearing that voice when he knew it wasn't real.

„If I wanted to, I would have done so already. Pale fucking Mother, Rytlock.”

The Shroud relented, and the shadows fell away. And so, they got a chance to see him, really see him, for themselves. No anger nor malice contorted his features. Only sadness. A deep, profound sadness in haunted eyes that extinguished the blue flame within to once again welcome gold. Those eyes that had once fallen dim and unseeing weren't fully dead. There was no light inside, not anymore, but... there was a spark, nonetheless. A sliver of cerulean that danced inside his pupils - just like the color of his glow, a stark contrast against the crimson they had come to know. And above all, he just looked so... tired.

„What's going on?!” Taimi was almost going into hysteria on the channel.

The chain magic dissolved, sending Rytlock stumbling a few steps forward. Some animalistic side begged him to charge again, but the desolate look within the Commander's eyes gave him pause. Similarly, Kasmeer and Canach made no move, staring with fear and worry at the scene unfolding before them. Mael - no, he couldn't let it deceive - was he..? - opened his arms, palms facing the starlit sky. Exposing his chest. Clad in some strange, new armor, seemingly spawned from the Mists just like the one worn by the Blood Tribune. A circle of magic spun slowly upon his sternum, remnants of blue fire easing into necromantic green.

„ ...That's Grenth's regalia. Like those given to the Seven Reapers.” Kas observed.

„It's Grenth who let me go back.” Maelmordha nodded at the mesmer, gratitude in amber orbs. His voice somber, but so unmistakably his. „Even in this state.”

The asura finally managed to shove herself back into the center of attention. Her words shot forth like machine gun fire inbetween panicked breaths. „Wait, w-wait wait wait - I DEMAND an explanation right now! If this is some sick prank I- I...”

Mael reached for his own device. Luckily, it was still in one piece. His tired smile was evident in his tone. „Hi, Taimi.”

„...Hi, Taimi? You almost DIE and „hi, Taimi” is all I get?! What's going on! You all said the Commander was dead! I flipping told you! I told you to check you - you -”

„I... I was dead, Taimi. But now I'm back.”

„Yeah, but that's not how „dead” works.”

„She makes a good point. You don't just go back to being alive like you go back to being your usual cranky self after a night of drinking. Kind of defeats the definition of „dead”, if anyone wants my opinion.” Canach interjected, sword lowered but not holstered. Skepticism in a gaze of violet framed by thorns. But also hope, try as he might to hide it. „...We checked, Commander, and you were very much no longer with us.”

„Here's the catch. I'm not alive.” The Commander let out a forlorn sigh, arms crossed over his back as he turned back around and slowly walked over to where his veil lay. He bent, once again taking it in a gloved hand - feeling the weight of his lifeblood.

„You're not?” The Secondborn raised a ridged brow. „I'm getting confused here. Is this some sort of last visitation to collect the money I owe you? ...Do you still need the money?”

„You're not?” Taimi repeated. „B-but... but.. buh...”

„Oh no...” Kasmeer seemed to realize the implications first.

„Listen.” The necromancer was back to doing what he did best. The party fell silent and focused on his words. „...I'm... still me. I've got this. I'm still the Commander. Still -”

That's right. Remember your name. It may well be the last thing that remains of you. He shivered.

„...Still Maelmordha.” The sylvari finally discarded the bloodied cloth from his grasp.

„Those damn teeth dare to disagree.” Rytlock growled, frustration bleeding through his words. Had he no fur to hide them, his knuckles would have been white with how tightly he gripped Sohothin. And yet, despite the anger, all the chaos within him, he silently prayed to legends and gods he did not believe in. „...What are you, really?”

„A lich.” With revulsion in his tone, the Commander answered. Even now, he felt the true weight of it all was lost on him. Too much to process all at once, too little time - this was a wound which would open later.

He stepped forward, eyes trained on Rytlock with such intensity the charr seemed to shrink back, uncertain. With one finger, the sylvari lifted the very tip of Sohothin. Angling its blazing spikes to face his sternum, as though knowing it would not strike him. „Which means killing me isn't going to stick. And the fire that took my life? Don't plan to let it burn me twice.”

„A lich..? Like Palawa Joko...? That makes no sense.” Kasmeer spoke up, hesitant and afraid. Had Maelmordha still a heart of his own, it would have shattered against the terror in her words. „Grenth doesn't approve of breaking the balance of Death. He wouldn't have -”

„There's one thing Grenth approves of even less than me breaking his and my own moral code, and that is Balthazar ravaging the Mists and ripping the souls of the dead right out to fill his Forged quota.” The Commander's voice was laced with venom. Before the Watch could blather on in circles for even longer, the fallen necromancer growled. „Listen! The bastard has Aurene.”

„We know...” Kasmeer replied, gaze somber. „He was taking her south toward Kralkatorrik when we arrived. We tried to stop him, but there were too many Forged.” The sheer wall of steel and fire cordoning off passage into the Desolation prevented the slightest notion of following the fallen God. Otherwise, they would have already done so.

„And I hate being the bearer of bad news, but it appears that Balthazar has managed to build up quite a formidable army.” Canach added, swordwhip crackling as though on cue at his side. So eager for violence, but its owner was not as hasty to a grave of his own.

„He does seem to make 'em faster than we can break 'em.” Rytlock bared his fangs, fist hitting the palm of his opposite paw.

„That's why we need an army of our own.” His trademark smirk was back, a devilish spark already dancing in his eyes. „I met someone in the Domain of the Lost who told me where I can borrow one.”

„Borrow”... an army?”

„Domain of the Lost?” The elder sylvari questioned, knowing he would likely not get an answer. „My, my, Commander, back from the dead and already scheming. It really is you.”

The occasional sniffling on the channel gave way to a happy giggle. „Yay, we have a plan!”

„Kas, have you got anything that can change our appearances?” Mael continued casually, as though he hadn't just suggested the most ridiculous idea known to Tyria.

„Yes, but nothing that can make the four of us look like an army.” Naturally, she was skeptical, and yet only waiting to hear just what kind of deranged plot they were pulling off next.

„It doesn't have to.” The Commander gave the verbal equivalent of a shrug. „It just needs to disguise us as someone else... after I secure our cover story.”

„Okay. I'll be standing by.” Setting her doubts aside, Lady Meade took a breath - getting ready to place her trust in this new version of her guildmaster. She wiped off her makeup-stained face, making room for a small smile. Blue orbs met gold, and she could feel his relief and gratitude. The necromancer offered a nod, and the mesmer returned it. Finally, things were going somewhere.

„And I'll be at the casino in Amnoon. If you can come back from the dead, I want to double my wager on you.” Canach smirked, that same sly look on his face he so often shared with his Commander. Mael simply nodded again, and the elder headed for the airship.

„Fine. I'll get word to you all when the time is right. For now, let's get the ship moving somewhere safe.” A brief scowl shadowed his features when he considered having a repeat of the prior conversation with Fidus and his crew. A man was scarcely allowed to come back without being asked questions, after all.

For the last time, he went back to where he had fallen - collecting the singed Thorn. Its bark was charred, leaves burnt - but even now, the Mother's holy magic was regenerating it steadily. He felt it recoil at his touch. The last vestige of the Dream inside his thoughts, all because the sword had simply become a part of him in its own, strange way. I'm so sorry, Caladbolg. How dirty he felt, but he forced himself to focus on Aurene. Visualize. Think. Remember. Even now, Nenah's words were fresh inside his mind. Remember why you did this. For whom.

Blue flickered in his gaze, and a single covert tear fell upon the Thorn's cracked surface. He rose from his knees, greatsword in hand.

A gravelly grumble finally pried him from his thoughts. Rytlock cast a side glance in his direction - meeting his gaze - before groaning and looking away in an almost sheepish manner. If not for the circumstances, he might have considered it cute.

„Oh, hey, Commander...” The charr mumbled, scratching the back of his mane. „Good to have you back.”

Maelmordha only smiled in response. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but his comrade wasn't paying heed.

#finally the wretched rewrite! enjoy if you'd like haha #guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fanfic #gw2 fanfiction #gw2 fic #guild wars 2 fanfiction #gw2 pof #gw2 path of fire #pof spoilers #gw2 balthazar #gw2 commander #About the Commander #Maelmordha #Hounds to Hamartia #gw2 the departing

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