#I first read about this is one of the Tales of the City books | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hanniewho · 2 months ago

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────୨You're The Warmth In My Cold World ৎ────

⋆˚࿔ Summary: Vi found a letter from her younger self and realized how broken she had become, leaving you to make her feel loved and human again.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I actually wrote this yesterday during family dinner, and it's a bit rushed, so I apologize for that 😭

𐙚˙✧˖° Words: 6.1k

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Soft dom Vi, Fingering, Body worshipping, Comfort sex, Nipple play, Squirting, Multiple orgasm, Crying after sex.

⋆✦ Pairings: Pitfighter! Vi x Afab reader

The snowfall outside was a stark contrast to the warm, candlelit room where Vi sat, her eyes glued to the pages of an old, worn-out book. It was a tale of valor and passion, battles won and lost. She felt a peculiar kinship to the characters, their struggles mirroring her own, but in a world of magic and grandeur rather than the gritty streets of Zaun. The fireplace crackled, casting a gentle glow over the worn leather armchair that had become her sanctuary amidst the city's hustle.

Her mind wandered to the pit fights she had once dominated, the roar of the crowd now replaced by the distant sound of carolers. The Yuletide season had brought a strange sort of peace to the city that she hadn't felt in a long time. The scent of pine and cinnamon filled the air, and she found herself missing the simple joys she had long ago forsaken.

As she turned a page, a letter slipped out from between the book's aged sheets. It was addressed to her, the handwriting unmistakably hers. She hadn't written it. With a furrowed brow, she unfolded the parchment, revealing a note from her younger self. It spoke of dreams and aspirations, of a life beyond the steel cage. She had forgotten about the girl who had once hoped for something more, lost in the haze of blood and sweat that had become her existence.

In a warm, candlelit room, Vi finds a mysterious letter from her past in a book. It stirs feelings of nostalgia and forgotten aspirations, juxtaposed with the peaceful Christmas ambiance outside.

The words stung, a stark reminder of what she had become. Vi's heart felt a pang of regret, a feeling she had buried deep beneath the layers of her hardened exterior. The scent of the book's ink and the crackle of the fire brought back memories of her youth, a time when the world was a canvas of possibilities rather than a battleground of survival. Her eyes grew wet, blurring the ink on the page as she read the innocent dreams she had scribbled down so long ago.

Suddenly, she felt your arms wrapped around her from behind. A warm embrace that was as surprising as it was comforting. Her body tensed at first, instinctively bracing for a blow that never came. Instead, she felt a gentle squeeze, and the soft whisper of your breath against her neck, "You're not alone in this, Vi."

Her heart skipped a beat. She had never allowed anyone to get this close to her, not since she had left the safety of her old life behind. The walls she had built around herself trembled at the touch, unsure how to respond to the tender gesture. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of your embrace seep into her. The room grew quiet, save for the crackling fire and the soft patter of snowflakes outside the window.

Touched by the letter from her past, Vi is surprised by your comforting embrace, which brings back feelings of vulnerability and a sense of companionship she thought she had lost.

Your hands rested on her shoulders, gently rubbing the tension that had knotted there. Vi leaned back into your chest.She felt your breath on the nape of her neck, a sensation that sent shivers down her spine. It was a feeling she had almost forgotten, one that didn't come with the bite of a knife or the crunch of bones. Your presence was gentle, soothing, and she found herself letting go of the pain that had held her hostage for so long.

The warmth of your body against hers brought a blush to her cheeks, and she swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in her throat. She hadn't allowed herself to be vulnerable like this in years, not since she had become the feared pitfighter of the underground. Your touch was a promise of something different, something she hadn't dared to hope for. It was as if your arms had cracked open the heavy door to a room she had locked away, filled with the warmth of Christmas past.

Vi took a deep breath, the scent of your perfume mixing with the aroma of the pine and cinnamon, creating an intoxicating blend that seemed to melt the ice around her heart. She could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against her back, a gentle reminder that she wasn't the only one in the room. The words from the letter echoed in her mind, and she wondered if perhaps you had seen the same dreams she had once had.

Vi experiences a rare moment of vulnerability and comfort in your embrace, feeling a connection she had long forgotten. The warmth and tenderness of your touch opens a door to her past, suggesting a shared understanding of her once-innocent dreams.

Her body began to relax, muscles uncoiling from their defensive stance. She allowed herself to be drawn into your embrace, leaning back into the comfort you offered. The warmth of your touch spread through her, reaching places that had been cold and empty for so long. It was as if you had lit a candle in the dark caverns of her soul, casting shadows on forgotten desires. Your hands continued to move in soothing circles, working out the knots of tension and pain that had become a part of her.

With a tentative hand, Vi reached up and placed it on your forearm, the warmth of your skin searing against her own. She felt your pulse quicken, a response to her touch, and she took it as a silent acknowledgment of the connection forming between you. Your arms tightened around her slightly, and she felt the firm press of your lips against the top of her head, a gesture that seemed to hold more meaning than words could convey.

For a moment, she was lost in the feeling of your embrace, the warmth of your breath on her neck, the steady beat of your heart. The words from the letter swam in her mind, and she found herself whispering, "I didn't know I could still want... this."

Vi's body relaxes as she accepts your comforting touch, allowing the warmth of your embrace to fill her. The connection strengthens as she reaches out to you, feeling your pulse and the gentle kiss on her forehead, hinting at deeper feelings and shared longings.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, and she could see the understanding in your gaze. Without a word, you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss that seemed to carry all the unspoken promises of the season. The taste of you was like the first sip of hot cocoa on a cold winter's day, sweet and comforting, filling her with a warmth she hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull away. As your kiss deepened, she felt the thawing of something within her, an emotion she had long thought lost to the frost of her life.

The room grew warmer, the crackle of the fireplace now a distant backdrop to the symphony of your breathing mingling with hers. Your hands moved from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her closer, and she didn't resist. The leather armchair creaked under the sudden shift in weight, but neither of you cared. The chill of the winter outside was forgotten as you both found solace in the warmth of each other's embrace.

A silent understanding passes between you and Vi as you share a comforting kiss. She feels the warmth of human connection, her frozen emotions beginning to thaw as she touches your heartbeat. The room's ambiance intensifies as your intimacy deepens, leaving the cold outside world forgotten.

Vi's eyes remained closed, savoring the sensation of your arms around her. It had been so long since she had felt anything other than pain and fear that this sudden affection overwhelmed her. She leaned back into you, her head nestling into the crook of your neck a sensation that was both foreign and comforting.

Your hands began to trace patterns along her arms, sending sparks of electricity through her body. She hadn't been touched with such gentleness in what felt like a lifetime. The weight of your embrace was a stark contrast to the bruising grips she was accustomed to in the fighting pits. Each caress felt like a gentle promise, a whisper that she could let go of the burdens she carried. Her breathing grew shallow, matching the rhythm of your own as your kiss grew more insistent.

The fire cast a warm, flickering light over your entwined forms, painting your skin in shades of gold and amber. The room grew hazy with the heat of your shared passion, the candles casting shadows that danced along the walls as if in celebration. Vi felt her body responding to your touch, the years of solitude and pain momentarily forgotten in the face of this newfound connection. Your kiss grew deeper, your tongue exploring the recesses of her mouth as if seeking the essence of her very soul.

Overwhelmed by your affection, Vi relaxes into your gentle embrace. Your tender caresses contrast with her harsh past, offering her a brief reprieve from pain and fear. The warmth and safety of the moment ignite a passionate response within her, hinting at a potential future of healing and love.

Her own hands grew bold, sliding up to tangle in your hair, the soft strands a stark contrast to the roughened calluses on her palms. The scent of your perfume grew stronger, mingling with the sweetness of her own arousal as she felt her body begin to arch into yours. The armchair groaned in protest, but neither of you paid it any mind. Your hands roamed lower, caressing the curve of her waist, the firmness of her hips, and she gasped against your mouth.

You broke the kiss, your eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. Finding none, you leaned in and kissed along her jaw, down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in your wake. Vi shivered, her breath hitching as you reached the sensitive spot just above her collarbone. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet she didn't want you to stop.

Your hands moved up to cup her breasts, feeling the soft mounds through the fabric of her shirt. Her nipples pebbled under your touch, and she couldn't hold back a soft moan. You took it as an invitation, your thumbs brushing against the peaks, eliciting a gasp from her parted lips. The sound was like music to your ears, a sweet symphony of desire that you hadn't heard in far too long.

As passion ignites, Vi's hands explore your hair while your gentle touches continue to evoke a sense of safety and yearning. Your kisses travel down her neck, eliciting moans of pleasure. Her body reacts to your intimate caresses, revealing a side of her that has long been hidden beneath the armor of her past.

With a deft move, you pulled the fabric over her head, revealing her nakedness to the flickering firelight. Her breasts were full and round, the dark areolae a stark contrast to her pale skin. "You're so fucking gorgeous." You said before took one of her breasts in your mouth, sucking gently as she arched back with a cry of pleasure. Your hands slid down to her waist, unbuckling her belt with a practiced ease that spoke of countless similar moments.

Her hand traveled up the back of your shirt and pull it off, her fingertips tracing the contours of your spine. You shivered at the sensation, your own body responding to her touch. With a sudden urgency, she reached around and unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air. The sight of them, heavy and full, made Vi's breath hitch in her throat.

Her own hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as she stood, the armchair abandoned behind her. You took a step back, allowing her to guide you towards the soft, inviting bed that stood in the corner of the room. The mattress dipped as you sat down, Vi's eyes never leaving yours as she stepped out of her boots and pants, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor.

The candles cast a soft, flickering glow over your bodies as you stood before each other, both naked and exposed. The flames danced in her eyes, a mix of hunger and something softer, something she hadn't seen in a very long time. Your skin was like silk under her touch, and she marveled at the difference from the rough, scarred flesh she was accustomed to feeling in the pits.

With trembling hands, she reached out and traced the outline of your breasts, feeling the weight of them in her palms. Your nipples were like pebbles, hard and eager, begging for attention. Vi leaned down and took one into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. You moaned, the sound echoing in the room, and she felt a thrill of power at being the cause of such pleasure.

Her teeth grazed the tender flesh, and you gasped, your hand shooting up to grab the back of her head, pressing her closer. The taste of you was like a drug, a sweet elixir that she hadn't known she craved. Her hands slid down to your hips, her nails digging into the soft skin as she felt your legs part, inviting her closer.

The bed whispered a sweet lullaby as you lay back, pulling Vi with you. The weight of her body was a welcome pressure, the heat of her skin a stark contrast to the coldness of the world outside. Your legs entwined around hers, pulling her in tight as if afraid she might disappear if you let go.

Her kisses grew more fervent, moving from your neck to your chest, her tongue tracing the delicate line of your collarbone. She took a nipple in her mouth, and the sensation was like lightning, shooting straight to your core. You arched your back, your hips bucking involuntarily as she bit down gently, eliciting a cry of pleasure from your lips.

Her hand trailed down your stomach, the softness of your skin giving way to the damp heat between your thighs. She found your clit, already swollen and begging for her touch. With a deft flick, she sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making your eyes roll back in your head. Your legs tightened around her, your body a symphony of want and need.

Vi's own desire was a living thing, pulsing and demanding. She straddled you, her thighs pressing against yours, feeling the wetness of her own arousal.The sight of your flushed face, the way your body responded to her touch, it was a heady feeling that she never wanted to end. Her hand slid lower, one finger dipping into your slick heat, making you gasp.

Your hips rose to meet her, and she began to move her hand in a slow, rhythmic motion that made your breath catch. Your hands roamed her back, pulling her closer, as if you could absorb her very essence. The sensation was overwhelming, a crescendo of pleasure that grew with each passing moment.

Her eyes locked onto yours, a silent question hanging between you. With a nod, she leaned down and captured your mouth in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender. Her hand never ceased its movement, and you could feel the tension coiling within you, a tight spring threatening to snap at any moment.

The world outside the window was lost to the swirling snow, but in here, in this warm cocoon of desire, there was nothing but the two of you. Her hand moved with increasing urgency, her fingers dancing over your clit, teasing and stroking until you were on the edge of the precipice. Your nails dug into her shoulders, your body arching off the bed as the first waves of orgasm washed over you.

The room was alive with the sounds of your muffled cries and the slick wetness of skin on skin. Vi felt your body tighten around her, the muscles in your thighs clenching as you came, your hips grinding against her hand. The intensity of your climax was like a punch to her gut, a reminder of what she had been missing in the cold, lonely world of the pits.

Her own need grew more urgent, her clit throbbing in time with your heartbeat. She slid a second finger into you, feeling the walls of your pussy tighten around her. The sensation was intoxicating, a potent mix of power and vulnerability that made her head swim. Your eyes closed, your mouth open in a silent scream, your body lost to the rapture she had brought forth.

Vi watched you, drinking in the sight of your pleasure, feeling it resonate deep within her own core. Her thumb found your clit again, pressing down as she began to fuck you with her hand, her own arousal growing with each of your whimpers. The candlelight danced across your skin, casting shadows that played over the contours of your body, making you seem almost ethereal.

Your eyes flew open, locking onto hers as a second, more powerful orgasm ripped through you. Your nails raked down her back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She felt the wetness of your release, the warmth of it coating her hand, and she groaned into your mouth, the sound lost in the symphony of your cries.

Vi felt a primal urge to claim you, to show you the depth of her need. She pulled away from your embrace, her eyes dark with desire as she pushed you onto your back. Your legs fell open, welcoming her in, and she took a moment to appreciate the beauty laid out before her. Your skin was flushed, your chest heaving, and your eyes were glazed with passion.

With a growl that was more animal than human, she bent down and took your other nipple in her mouth, teasing it with her teeth as her hand returned to your wetness. Your body responded immediately, your hips lifting off the bed, silently begging for more. She chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through your body and sending another shiver of pleasure through you.

Then she lowered herself so that both of your pussies met, the warm, slick flesh pressing together in a dance of desire. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, a perfect melding of passion and need. Your hands moved to her ass, urging her closer as she began to grind against you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your core.

The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the scent of arousal. Your hips moved in tandem, a silent choreography of want as your bodies sought out the perfect rhythm. The slickness of your skin made it easy for her to slide against you, the sound of your wetness echoing through the room. It was a symphony of need, each movement a crescendo that built upon the last.

Her eyes never left yours, the fire in them burning brighter with every stroke. Your breaths grew ragged, matching the tempo of your hearts as your bodies moved in a slow, sensual grind. The friction grew, a delicious pressure building at the apex of your connection. It was as if you were two flints striking together, sparks flying as you sought the sweet release that only this union could provide.

The feeling of your wetness sliding against hers was a revelation to VI. It was a dance of desire she had never known, a gentle battle of passion that was as intoxicating as any fight she'd ever had. Her movements grew more urgent, hips rolling in a steady rhythm that made your toes curl. The warmth of your skin, the softness of your folds, it was a stark contrast to the cold steel she'd become accustomed to.

Your legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her in closer, as if trying to become one. The sensation of your bodies moving together was a silent symphony, each gasp and whimper a note in a melody of lust. Vi felt the walls of her own desire crumbling, the dam of her control threatening to break under the relentless pressure of your need.

Her own hips began to buck against yours, the friction between your folds growing more intense with each movement. The feeling of your wetness coating her, the softness of your skin, was a revelation. Her thumb found your clit, circling it with a fierce determination that matched the rhythm of her hips. Your eyes grew wide, your mouth opening in silent plea, and she knew you were close.

With a growl, she increased her pace, her body moving against yours in a symphony of passion. Your legs tightened around her waist, pulling her in even closer, and she could feel your heat building, the tension coiling like a spring ready to snap. The room was filled with the sound of your breaths, the slickness of your skin, the gentle slap of flesh against flesh.

Her eyes never left yours, the fire in them burning brighter with every stroke. You could feel the climax building, a crescendo that threatened to overwhelm you both. Your nails dug into her back, leaving red trails on her skin, a silent plea for more. The friction grew, a delicious pressure that built between your legs, a storm brewing in the center of your being.

Vi's movements grew more urgent, her hips grinding against yours, the heat between you like a living, breathing entity. You felt the first tremors of orgasm, a delicate tremble that grew into a quake of pleasure. Your legs tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, your body begging for the release she promised.

The sensation of her wetness sliding against yours was unlike anything you had ever experienced. It was a symphony of sensation, a dance of desire that seemed to resonate in every nerve ending. Her hand remained between your legs, the pad of her thumb pressing insistently against your clit as she watched the passion play out on your face.

Your eyes grew glazed, the candlelight flickering in them like stars in a night sky. "Vi," you murmured, your voice thick with need, "I want this, I want you, forever." The words slurred together in your mouth, a testament to the intoxicating effect she had on you.

Her own eyes searched yours, a mix of surprise and something deeper, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. Her movements grew more deliberate, her body grinding against yours with a fierce tenderness that spoke of a hunger that mirrored your own. The room spun, the candles a kaleidoscope of color and light, as you both lost yourself in the moment.

Your breaths grew ragged, the words you had spoken echoing in the air, a declaration of something that felt so right it was terrifying. Vi felt your legs tighten around her waist, the heat of your pussy against hers a siren's call she couldn't resist. She whispered back, "You're mine, forever," the words a promise that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the room.

Her movements grew more urgent, the slickness of your arousal making it easy to glide against you. Your hips met hers, the friction setting off sparks that seemed to ignite every nerve in your bodies. The room was a whirlwind of sensation, the only anchor being the fiery gaze that held yours. The candle flames danced in your eyes, a reflection of the passion that burned between you.

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, Vi felt your body tighten around hers. A sudden, unexpected rush of liquid warmth coated her lower abdomen and the tops of her thighs as she came down from her high. You had squirted, the force of your climax painting a picture of ecstasy on her skin. The sensation was shocking, a reminder of how intimately connected you were in this moment.

Instantly, you felt your cheeks flush with heat, and your hands shot up to cover your face in an adorable display of embarrassment. Vi, caught in the aftermath of her own orgasm, froze for a moment, unsure of how to react. Then she chuckled, the sound rich and warm in the quiet room. "Don't be shy," she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. "It's a sign of how much you enjoyed it."

Her own laugh was a gentle rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Slowly, you lowered your hands, your eyes meeting hers again. There was something in her gaze that made your heart flutter, something that went beyond the physical connection you'd just shared. It was as if you had bared your soul to her in that one moment of vulnerability.

Vi reached up, her thumb gently brushing away a tear that had escaped your eye. "Don't be embarrassed," she murmured, her voice softer than you had ever heard it before. "This is what happens when two people connect on a deeper level."

You felt your cheeks heat up even more, but the warmth in her gaze was reassuring. With trembling hands, you reached out to touch her, your fingers tracing the contours of her face. "I've never felt anything like this," you admitted, your voice a whisper that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

Vi's expression softened, the fiery desire in her eyes giving way to something much softer. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, the gesture filled with a tenderness that was almost painful in its beauty. "You're not alone in this," she murmured against your skin. "We're in this together." She said as she laid down beside you.

The words seemed to resonate through you, unlocking something deep within your heart that you had long kept hidden. Suddenly, you felt the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over. Your face grew hot, and you buried it in your hands, trying to hide the tears that had started to fall. The warmth of your own embarrassment was a stark contrast to the coolness of your skin, the reality of your vulnerability crashing over you like a wave.

Vi, sensing your distress, pulled you closer, her strong arms encircling you in a gentle embrace. "Hey," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm to your soul. "It's okay. You don't have to hide from me." Her words were a gentle coaxing, a promise of safety in a world that had shown you so little of it.

Your body trembled as you let yourself be held, the dam of your emotions giving way to the warmth of her touch. The tears fell freely now, soaking into the pillow beneath your cheek. You felt her kiss the top of your head, a sweet benediction that seemed to soothe the rawest parts of you. Her hand stroked your back, a gentle rhythm that mirrored the beat of her heart.

"Shh," she whispered, her voice a soft lullaby in the candlelit room. "You're safe with me. I'll always protect you." Her words were a balm to the bruised parts of your soul, a promise that seemed too good to be true. But in this moment, with her arms around you, it was easy to believe.

You felt your body relax into her embrace, the tension of the day, of your life, seeping out of you like water through a sieve. The warmth of her skin against yours was like a warm summer's day, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh world outside. Your tears slowed, the sobs subsiding into quiet hiccups.

Vi's hand moved from your back to your cheek, her thumb wiping away the last traces of your tears. "Look at me," she said softly. You lifted your gaze to hers, the candlelight playing in her eyes, making them twinkle like distant stars. "You are not alone. I am here."

Her words seemed to echo in the quiet room, resonating in the very air you breathed. You searched her gaze, looking for any hint of deceit or insincerity, but all you found was warmth and a fierce determination that made your heart swell. "Vi," you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion. "Thank you."

Vi's expression softened further, and she leaned down to press her lips against yours in a kiss that was as gentle as it was passionate. The taste of your tears mingled with hers, a bittersweet symphony of pain and comfort, of fear and hope. Your arms wrapped around her neck, holding her close as if you could pull her into the very core of your being.

As your kiss deepened, she felt the last vestiges of your fear melt away, leaving only a smoldering ember of desire in its place. Your legs entwined with hers, your bodies fitting together like two halves of a whole. The candlelight painted shadows across the room, flickering over your skin like a lover's caress.

With a mischievous smile, Vi pulled away, her eyes shimmering with a warmth that seemed to belie the harshness of her past. She leaned in and booped the tip of your nose with the pad of her finger, a playful gesture that made you giggle despite the intensity of the moment. The sound was like a bell in the quiet room, a reminder of the joy that could be found even in the darkest of places.

The sudden playfulness was a welcome reprieve from the passionate intensity that had just passed between you. Her finger lingered on your nose for a brief moment before she leaned in to press her lips to yours again, the kiss a sweet blend of laughter and love. The warmth of her smile was a beacon of light in the candlelit darkness, a promise of happiness to come.

Vi pulled you closer, her strong arms wrapping around your shoulders and her legs entwined with yours. She began to pepper your face with feather-light kisses, each one a tender declaration of her affection. Your cheeks, your eyelids, the tip of your nose – no part of your face was spared from her adoration. The feeling was overwhelming, a gentle reminder that there could be sweetness in the world, even for someone as damaged as her.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into her touch, your breaths mingling with hers. Each kiss was like a gentle summer rain, soothing your soul and nurturing the fragile blossom of hope that had begun to grow within you. Her lips danced across your skin, a silent ballet of love and comfort that seemed to melt away the years of pain and solitude you had endured.

When she finally pulled away, the warmth of her smile was like the first light of dawn breaking over the horizon of a new day. You felt reborn in the softness of her embrace, your heart pounding in your chest like the drums of a triumphant army. "Merry Christmas," she murmured against your ear, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

You leaned back into her, your heart feeling as if it might burst from your chest. Her hand stroked your hair, her touch soothing and gentle. "Merry Christmas, Vi," you whispered back, the words filled with a warmth that seemed to warm the very air around you.

Her fingers traced the line of your jaw, her thumb brushing against your lower lip. "You know," she said, her voice a low purr, "I've never had anyone to share Christmas with before." There was a hint of wonder in her eyes, as if she couldn't quite believe that she had found someone who could see beyond the scars and the armor she wore.

You nodded, snuggling closer into her embrace. "Neither have I, not like this." Your voice was soft, filled with the contentment that only came from being truly seen and accepted by someone else. "It's been... amazing."

Vi's hand continued to stroke your hair, the gentle rhythm lulling you into a state of pure bliss. Her thumb traced the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I didn't know it could be like this," she murmured, her voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of your bones. "So... good."

You nodded, nuzzling closer to her chest. The steady beat of her heart was a comforting lullaby that seemed to sync with your own erratic pulse. Her warmth was a stark contrast to the cold you had known for so long, a reminder that there was more to life than pain and fear. "Neither did I," you admitted, your voice a soft whisper that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

Vi's arms tightened around you, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took. You could feel the warmth of her skin seeping into yours, chasing away the last remnants of the cold that had once been your constant companion. Her hand continued to stroke your hair, the gentle motion a silent promise that she would never let you go.

The candles flickered in the quiet room, casting a soft glow over your intertwined bodies. The shadows they painted on the walls danced in time with the crackling fireplace, creating a serene, intimate atmosphere that seemed to envelop you both. The scent of your mingled arousal lingered in the air, a testament to the passion that had just transpired between you.

Vi's gaze was fixed on you, her eyes shimmering with a warmth that seemed to belie the harshness of her past. She whispered, her voice barely above a breath, "You're the warmth in my cold world." The words hung in the air like a gentle embrace, wrapping around your heart and filling you with a warmth that seemed to spread through your very soul.

Her declaration was a stark contrast to the cold, hard steel that had been her armor for so long. Yet, here she was, laying bare her most vulnerable truth in the candlelit sanctity of your shared space. The flickering flames cast an intimate glow over the two of you, a visual metaphor for the fire that had been ignited between you.

Her eyes searched yours, the depth of her words reflected in their emerald pools. The warmth of her gaze was a stark contrast to the frigidness of the blizzard raging outside, a beacon of hope that pierced through the shadows of your own fears and insecurities. You felt your heart swell in response, the warmth of her words filling you with a sense of belonging that you had never known before.

The room grew quiet, save for the crackling of the fireplace and the soft sounds of your breathing. You reached up to cup her cheek, feeling the roughness of her skin under your palm. "And you're the light in my darkness," you murmured back, the truth of your words resonating in the very core of your being.

Her eyes searched yours, a silent question lingering in their depths. "What are you saying?" she asked, her voice a low, sultry rumble that seemed to vibrate through you. You swallowed hard, your heart racing. "I'm saying that I want to be with you, Vi. Not just tonight, but always."

Vi's expression grew serious, her eyes searching your face for any hint of doubt. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice tinged with a vulnerability that was rare for her. "I'm not like other people. I'm... broken."

You shook your head, your voice firm. "You're not broken, Vi. You're strong. You're the warmth in my cold world." The words slipped from your lips like a warm embrace, wrapping around her heart and filling her with a sense of belonging that she hadn't felt in years.

Her eyes searched yours, the candlelight casting a warm glow over the room. "I never knew it could be like this," she murmured, her voice a soft rumble that seemed to echo the tumultuous emotions swirling within her. "To have someone who... who sees me."

You nodded, your own eyes filled with a soft understanding that seemed to pierce the very armor that had protected her heart for so long. "I see you, Vi," you whispered, your voice a gentle caress. "All of you."

Her breath caught in her throat, the words striking a chord deep within her. For a moment, she said nothing, the weight of your declaration hanging in the air like a warm embrace. Then, she leaned in, her mouth brushing against yours in a kiss that was as gentle as it was fierce. "And you're the warmth in my cold world," she murmured against your lips.

#arcane smut #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x you #vi smut #arcane x reader #arcane x you #ᯓᡣ𐭩han

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felassan · 16 days ago

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Thread: Sylvia Feketekuty on the influences of Emmrich and the Mourn Watch

The rest of this post is under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

Sylvia Feketekuty: "I think I've gotten to most people’s questions, and I promised I'd talk about influences on Emmrich and the Mourn Watch before wrapping this up. So here we go! It took me while to figure out Emmrich's character voice. I'm happy with where I landed, but he was a tough one. A few books helped me out. MR James' Collected Ghost Stories (1890-1930) My favourite ghost stories of all time. James excels at building dread, at writing people finding strange things in books, or around the corner, or in the old lane at night."

"He was also an antiquarian and a scholar at Cambridge. I wanted Emmrich and the Watchers to feel formal, but not like they were from another epoch. James’ language, polished by a rich academic career, was an excellent benchmark for 'older, but not ancient'. E.g.: if using contractions was appropriate for James' time, it was appropriate for Emmrich. It freed me up, mentally speaking, to deploy them whenever they improved cadence or flow. Thomas Ligotti's Songs of a Dead Dreamer Fellow Ligotti fans may already be thinking Emmrich doesn't really share the philosophy underpinning Ligotti's work, and they’re right. However!"

"Songs of a Dead Dreamer is filled with fantastical imagery that’s a bit lusher than that found in Ligotti's later works. It was really good at bringing to mind the kind of moody, expansive dreamscapes I think our necromancer mentally occupies. It’s from a different book (Noctuary), but Ligotti’s “The Spectral Estate” also merits a mention. If you plunked it down in front of Emmrich to read, he’d know exactly what it was on about. The Romantic poets (or any poetry on similar themes: overpowering swells of emotion, the grandeur and awe of nature, love and loss and grief.) Palgrave's Golden Treasury was usually in reach."

"If I was in a jam, or psyching myself up for a scene, sometimes I’d read a few poems to get into the proper head space. Or just for the pleasure of it. Poems are great! Please take a link to Shelley's "A Dream of the Unknown", one of my favourites. [link] I also read a few books by morticians and funerary directors. A friend lent me Smoke Gets in your Eyes and From Here to Eternity by Caitlin Doughty (probably the most famous mortician on the internet?) I also checked out Nine Years Under: Coming of Age in an Inner-city Funeral Home by Sheri Booker."

"These books were full of lessons about how people react to death, how different cultures treat it, how anger and grieving express differently but come from the same wellspring. Very humane looks at how we deal with loss and other people. Moving on to non-books: My First Cadaver, a podcast of stories from medical students and medical professionals."

"I listened to a few episodes My First Cadaver, and there were some incredible tales in there. Gross (I could never be a doctor) but incredible. And I was struck by was how much students working on donated cadavers got attached to them. I can’t remember if it was in MFC or not, but there was one story about a medical student introducing his date to the cadaver he was working on like she was a beloved aunt. It was very sweet! Peter Cushing in Horror of Dracula (1958) and The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) These films are filled with handsome costumes, ominous sets, and the oversized passions I associate with gothic melodrama. Cushing's perfect in them."

"His portrayals of Van Helsing and Baron Frankenstein are brisk, determined, obsessive, and brimming with energy; they’re scholars who are experts in their field, yet still men of action. They felt like natural touchstones for a professor suddenly called to grand adventure. I also ended up reading Cushing's memoirs. In a bit of strange synchronicity, there were similarities between his life and traits I'd already decided to give Emmrich. Cushing came from a working-class family, had an intense phobia (his was of the dark), was vegetarian, and so on. I'd had no idea."

"(Humans tend to pattern-match, but it was a little eerie.) A side note: I've seen people speculate Emmrich was based off of Vincent Price. There’s a bit of the good Mr. Price in there, but Cushing got to play more heroic roles than he did. He felt more right to me. A second side note: did you know Vincent Price was a gourmand who loved to entertain? He and his wife Mary put out a beautiful cooking book, A Treasury of Great Recipes, filled with warm and charming commentary. If you're interested in that kind thing, highly recommended!"

"One influence when I was pitching the Memorial Gardens to the rest of the team was Swan Point cemetery in Rhode Island. It's where Lovecraft was buried, and like many a Weird Tales nerd before me, I was curious and wanted to see it."

"I wasn't prepared for was how lush the plants and flowers were, and how beautifully landscaped everything there is. Swan Point is a historical burial place, and also a carefully tended garden and arboretum. It stunned me. I'd never been in a cemetery like it. Emmrich complains about Hezenkoss making him play complicated wargames when they were students, and that one in particular had three separate rulebooks."

"I've seen people guess whether I was referencing D&D or Warhammer 40K. D&D was formative, and I know a frankly embarrassing amount about WH40K at this point (No regrets. Necrons and Admech 4-ever.*) But the origin is even sillier. *Why yes, Mechanicus 2 IS my most anticipated upcoming game. I used to own the first edition of a board game called Mansions of Madness, and was supposed to learn the rules so I could lead my friends through it. But come the day, I’d procrastinated, and was running short on time."

"Fantasy Flight's previous game in the same vein was Arkham Horror, and AH is not a simple game. But I remember being hopeful, as I peeled the shrinkwrap off, that maybe MoM would be easier to learn than AH. Have streamlined rules, or fewer things to remember. Then the top popped off, and three separate rulebooks fell out and slithered to the floor. (The DAV game’s not meant to be MoM, but the absurdity of that moment stuck with me.) (It's not the game's fault, by any means, that I was unprepared, and the session went as well as it could have with me flipping through the books going "Okay wait...hold on...I think that was here...no, wait.") The Nevarran hazelnut torte recipe is actually a family recipe from my grandmother, on my father's side. I’m beyond delighted people have actually made it. (Our recipe uses metric measurements, but the DA style guide uses imperial, so I was worried about the conversion. Looks like it went okay.)"

"On my mother's side of the family: my grandmother cooked and cleaned for a living, and my grandfather was a butcher. He passed away before I was born, and my grandmother when I was very young. So I gave Emmrich’s parents those professions as a little nod to the grandmother I only knew very little, and the grandfather I never met at all. I would’ve liked time with them both. And to end on a lighter note, "Ever thought of becoming a hat person?" is an extremely oblique reference to a line spoken to one of gaming's greatest characters: Murray, the demon skull from Curse of Monkey Island. (Curse is the first Monkey Island game I ever played, and therefore my favourite.)"

"Small bonus: here’s the music I listened to most while working on Emmrich and the Watchers. Some of it probably only makes sense to me, some of it seems thematically obvious. (I don’t have Spotify so best I can do is an itunes screenshot.)"

"Not on the screenshot because I changed PCs halfway through, but I also listened to a lot of music from Cryo Chamber, a great dark ambient label. [link] And their sister label, Cryo Crypt, which does "Dark Fantasy Dungeon Synth." [link] And also Allicorn IS on the screenshot but I think I've listened to his stuff on every game I've worked on by now. [link]"

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Bonus: follow-up comments and exchanges -

User: "I KNEW the torte was somebody’s family recipe!!" // Sylvia: "My only regret is that the icing was originally a stove-boiled icing made with eggs and chocolate and butter emulsified together. I couldn't get it working, however, these past few years. I think we lost some crucial part of the steps when trying to write out a clean copy. So I went with ganache for the game, because I didn't want to print something that didn't work, and I've used ganache myself. It's good! But I'm going to try to replicate the original again one day." [source, two] // User: "I noticed that sometimes, ingredients doesn't react the way they used to and part of that is probably due to some "industrial" changes in the recipe for ingredients like chocolate or butter to cut the cost of making them, imho. It's sad because it means we lost a very specific way to do things..." // Sylvia: "Yeah, that was the first thing a friend who bakes a lot suggested. I wonder if I was a victim of "Buttergate" when Canadian cows were being fed so much palm oil butter was harder to spread as a result. After a long search, I found a local place that makes butter that actually tastes good, which is an incredibly sad sentence to have to type out." [source, two]

Sylvia, re: Vincent Price being a gourmand and his cooking book: "It's extremely cool. My library had a copy and I remember it being pretty big, too." [source]

User: "I was following this thread and I'm delighted about all of these facts and information. Thank you for sharing!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you! And thanks for reading, it was nice to unpack all the stuff kicking around my mental attic." [source]

User, re: MFC: "Sorry to post again but this one got me- my mom is a doc, and i remember her telling me stories of the cadaver she worked on (evidence of different surgeries she had, the cancer she had, etc), and mom always ended her stories saying how thankful she was to her. It really does stick around." // Sylvia: "No need to apologize, I liked hearing about your mom's reaction! It's exactly what I kept hearing and reading about, a sense of reverence for the gift." [source]

Sylvia: ""The irony that I had to convert the measurements back to metric" Haha. I tried to get as close as I could. Here's the written down metric version of the cake batter. It's an older recipe so I had to try to guess what a "knife tip" ended up as." [source]

A user on the torte being a family recipe: "Oh my gosh 🥹 that makes it all even lovelier!" // Sylvia: "Thanks! I was really excited to share the family recipe, it's a bit of work but it's one of my favorites." [source]

A user under the post about MR James' Collected Ghost Stories: "So you're probably the one behind the mysterious bronze whistle, I take it?" // Sylvia: "Haha, guilty. Cameron Harris, our editor, helped me figure out a phonetic guide to the latin. (If it fails anywhere it's very likely my fault.)" [source]

User: "As an avid Emmrich lover & someone trying to write some Emmrich POVs in my Emrook fanfictions, I can not thank you ENOUGH for this wealth of info / music inspo to go off of" // Sylvia: "Thank you! (Seriously though some of those songs probably only make sense to me, they're not all thematically on point, but some are. Hope you enjoy!)" [source]

User: "As another "needs a million hours of droning ambient music to write" writer I appreciate these greatly" // Sylvia: "We both have good taste! 🎶" [source]

User: "Thank you for writing out this list!! Peter Cushing makes so much sense as an influence. I love the variety of media here, it gives me so much new stuff to check out!" // Sylvia: "Thank you for reading! If you do check out some of this stuff, hope you enjoy!" [source]

Sylvia: "thanks so much, and for reading the thread! It was fun to write." [source]

User: "Thank you for sharing these books!I was looking for a good ghost book" // Sylvia: "Thanks! Hope you enjoy James. "Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad" was the first story of his I read and I'll never forget that experience." [source] // Sylvia: "I just love the mood James could create, so much." [source]

User: "ELECTRIC SIX MENTION" // Sylvia: "My greatest favorites, now and forever." [source]

Sylvia: "Please archive away, I am intent on deleting the account eventually but it'd be nice to know people could look this stuff up later if they're curious. (Future generations need to know which Atrium Carceri tracks I listened to!)" [source]

User: "Amongst many things, not the least of which is the gratitude and delight of having your fantastic insight into the writing process of Emmrich, my grandmother’s hazelnut torte is fantastically close to the Nevarran version which was a delightful discovery." // Sylvia: "Ah now nice. I assume she was also central/eastern European then? I suspect it was a popular recipe at a certain time." [source]

User: "As an ex-mortician turned game writer, this was a FASCINATING read!" // Sylvia: "Haha, I definitely took inspiration from morticians! (Thank you for checking it out, that thread got long)" [source]

User: "ATRIUM CARCERI - Such a perfect band for the Mourn Watch!" // Sylvia: "I stumbled on Atrium Carceri when I was a student, and there's happily so much dark ambient available now, but Simon Heath's particular vibe can't be beat." [source]

User: "Rockefeller Street is just like that, man. It's sticky." // Sylvia: "Yes! It's so good, it just hits a certain mood dead center." [source]

Sylvia: "Ginkys of BlueSky has created a Spotify list of the music I listened to when writing Emmrich and the Watchers! Almost everything's on there. Thank you Ginkys. (FYI: Not everything I listened to matches the MW vibe, sometimes it was just a song that got stuck in my head for a few weeks.) - [link]" [source]

User: "I appreciate Replay being on here so muuuuch" // Sylvia: "My favorite song on the album! Though 911 was also real solid." [source]

User: "Love that there's Lady Gaga" // Sylvia: "Friend just sent me Abracadabra, I'm excited for the Gothic Camp here." [source]

Sylvia, about the torte recipe: "If it's useful, here's the full thing in metric. WARNING: Last two times I tried this cooked icing, it failed. I'm not sure whether I miscopy a crucial step, or if changes to local butter were the culprit. Either way, proceed with caution. A ganache is way safer, and very similar." [source]

^ User: "Thank you! That's helpful. I haven't baked many cakes before so I'll do some research about icing/ganache before trying. Hopefully looking at local (Swedish) recipes will give me a hint of what to be careful with." // Sylvia: "Ganache is SUPER simple (you basically heat cream and pour it over chopped chocolate), so I lean even more towards recommending you go with that instead of the cooked icing. Hope you the baking." [source]

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#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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helenazbmrskai · 11 months ago

Text

Guide on how to not marry the Northern Duke. [1/2]

Title [Guide on how to not marry the Northern Duke.]

Pairing [Northen Duke! Yoongi x Reincarnated! Reader]

Genre [Fantasy Romance, Reincarnation, World in a novel AU, future smut and angst]

Summary [You need to make an elaborate plan so you can avoid your impending death at the hands of your favourite character so you can’t just sit around and wait for something to happen – no matter how distraught you wake up one day in an unfamiliar bed.]

Words [11,5k ; part 1 out of 2]

Warnings [mistreatment and negligence, period drama, slow burn, mention of blood and drugs, tiny sexual tension]

Rating [+18 overall but this part is a tame +14]

A/N: Guess who’s back again? ME. I’ve been working on this for a lot and I know I already have a similar story on going but I just couldn’t get over this idea in my head. So enjoy! And as always excuse me for the typos.

Masterlist // part 2 (end) // I don't do tag lists anymore I'm sorry!

Every story needs a good start, and this one starts now with an old tale, much older than you.

There’s an ancient fairytale that tells you about the funding of the Empire and it all starts when God left.

Tired of human foolishness and deeply rooted malice he left the world he created to turn around its axis and burn down on its own; famine started to scavenge the continent as war broke out in every corner of the human world. Each kingdom perished one by one until only one was left.

It seemed like humanity would be wiped out permanently in no time but then just when they all thought there was no turning back, a saintess appeared among the rest and divided the continent into four regions with the help of the received divine power. That’s the birth of the empire’s central city where the empress Hyeri ruled over the four divided territories.

To prevent war from breaking out again the saintess turned to the heavens and pleaded while crying out to their maker and hearing her prayers the God who left decided to give them one last chance at redemption seeing the pure heart in front of him.

That’s when the holy prophecy was made.

Each chosen duke was granted unique powers to rule over their territories. However great powers come with great responsibilities. In the end, there’s always a price to pay but that’s the tale of another story.

This is how peace finally settled over the world once more. In exchange for the powers, the dukes wrote a blood oath that prevented them from stealing each other’s powers or waging unnecessary war. However just like every pact it wasn’t perfect. Loopholes could be taken advantage of but momentarily peace was forged.

This is the short version of the founding tale of the originated Kingdom that was taught to the people of the empire throughout generations. You particularly remember these starting lines from the novel you read in your previous life. The introduction is something you often skip through but thankfully you didn’t do that with this one.

The four families who inherited great power were Kim, Jung, Min and Jeon. When you first read the story introduction you thought that it’s quite lame and generic to base the family's attributes on the four seasons. However, seeing one of the duke’s illustrations you decided to read it all.

When choosing a book to read you only pay attention to the hotties. In this case, it wasn’t any different either.

A mysterious and cold duke of the north is something that a girl cannot ignore to save her life.

Each duke possesses an artefact which comes in the form of a ring and different precious gemstones that fit into the depression are named after the four seasons using a dead language.

Nix - means snow, which makes the wearer the lord of winter. The most handsome guy throughout the entire book in your opinion. Next, Saltus - translates to forest which is the symbol of spring. Umbra is shade and Calor is heat. The last remaining ones are autumn and summer. Each duke is the epitome of beauty, and their descendants are no exception.

This is a fantasy romance novel you read before you died in a sudden hit and run accident.

The original story is about an orphan girl Hyo who is the lost daughter of the king. After she’s found – the plot starts as she meets the four archdukes at the annual imperial ball and falls in love with the lord of Spring. Kim Taehyung. A handsome man with good manners and unmatched beauty as he’s described in the book. She’s captured by one look of the male lead’s brown eyes and shiny blond curly hair. Despite their fairytale-like first meeting, their love is not exempt from hardships. Their first obstacle is the villainess Kim Y/N who falls in love with Taehyung at first sight at the same ball and sets her eyes on marrying him but in the end, she fails to murder Hyo and gets beheaded by the second male lead Min Yoongi as an imperial order.

Hyo and Taehyung then live happily ever after and the novel ‘Flowers bloom in the heart of the Lost Princess’ ends there.

You see, dying a second time is not an option even if the one you possessed is Y/N.

You need to make an elaborate plan so you can avoid your impending death by the hands of your favourite character so you can’t just sit around and wait for something to happen – no matter how distraught you wake up one day in an unfamiliar bed.

Even though there’s no chance you will fall in love with the Duke of Spring like in the original novel – things can still go wrong if you make changes in the natural flow of the story, so you need to think this through carefully. You need to think about the plot holes and that the characters you see can be different from what you read in the book as that only tells you one side of the story.

The first thing you need to change gradually is the way the servants and the Duke see you.

The first week when you reincarnated as Y/N you spent your days with a high fever bedridden, you’re not sure if the pain came from the strain of absorbing the real Y/N’s memories or if something else is behind it. Your health is very poor as your medical history suggested, but you get accustomed to the villainess' body step by step. After another week your probation ended so you were able to leave the estate freely again. There were days when sudden headaches interrupted your day and, in the morning, you often coughed up blood.

You ignored it at first because the symptoms seemed to get better with time, and you had no way of knowing if it was normal. You didn’t ask in case someone found it suspicious. The most important thing right now is that you need to focus on staying alive and avoiding your death at the end of this novel – this is what you thought without knowing anything at that time.

As the plot thickens when you least expect it.

It’s not just your weird health conditions your head hurts just from thinking about the actions of the real owner of this body.

You just can’t grasp why a beautiful woman like Y/N would do those cruel things when she has everything she could’ve asked for. She’s a rich girl born with a golden spoon in her mouth, and she gets crazy just because she can’t have a man. It feels unnatural. If someone asks you to choose between life and a man you would choose life without hesitation.

You can have another man but not another life. Er, well – in your case, you do get another one thought but that’s beside the point.

Even before that incident happened with the female lead, she had a terrible reputation among the nobles.

Well – you can’t do anything if you’re not well rested so you will just think about this a bit later. You can’t possibly pull another all-nighter to study how this novel works. You close your eyes to finally get some shut eye when some woman barges into your room without knocking forcefully parting your curtains to let the early rays of sunshine in. The sound of her voice makes you freeze. This uncomfortable feeling suddenly ripped through your body as if a pile of rocks were sitting on your chest not letting you breathe. While you gained some of Y/N’s memories there are still holes in those fragments that you’re unsure of. However, her feelings are so intense sometimes that your body reacts like clockwork.

What you feel after hearing her voice is sheer terror. Who is this woman that even a villainess like Y/N is even afraid of? You can’t open your eyes as if your body is doing it unconsciously, unmoving like a doll to protect itself. Someone is coming closer.

You feel a prick on your forearm and your eyes fly open due to the pain. Her name appears in your mind as soon as you see her face and some of Y/N’s memories flood your head regarding that nasty woman. She triggers something dark in your eyes to appear.

Your nanny, Biwon.

“Wake up. Are you planning to sleep till the afternoon?” Biwon lets out a fake troubled sigh and her eyes are full of arrogance when you meet them you freeze completely at the sight.

“I’m sorry nanny.” Your mouth moves on its own like a broken record. It feels like this is not the first time she wakes Y/N up with a prick of a needle and the apology comes to her like second nature. Y/N’s attitude shows all kinds of trauma of being abused. How is it that this was never mentioned in the novel? While not much was mentioned about how she grew up you would think this is a piece of important information to have.

“Wash your face the duke requested to have breakfast with you for some reason.” She left without giving you any kind of assistance like a maid should do. At last, the water in the basin is ice cold to the touch and murky it manages to wake you up completely from shock.

You’re not just imagining it. Biwon has complete power over Y/N even though she’s the lady of the house.

You knew that the other maids avoided Y/N because of her temperament but to think that she’s been through manipulation and abuse by someone so close to her. Because Biwon is the one who spent the most time next to Y/N ever since she was a child everyone buys her lies. No one pays attention to Y/N, not her father or her brother.

She has no one to rely on in this household.

Biwon deliberately made her isolated in her own home so she could control and exploit her. Her malicious plan is clear to you after observing the situation objectively. What else is there that was not mentioned in the novel? Things might be more complicated than you thought.

However, this is not the time to ponder over this. You need to get ready alone. It didn’t take you long to realise Biwon forbids the maids from helping you so you can embarrass yourself in front of your family. While the real Y/N would have problems with getting dressed and being presentable without help as she’s a noble – there’s one tiny fault in your nanny’s plan – that she has no idea that you’re a modern woman who can wear her own fucking dress and get ready all by herself. She has a lot of extravagant dresses, so you had a hard time choosing but then something caught your eye. This dress has been buried deep in your wardrobe, a solid light cream-coloured dress with an elegant bow in the front. This is the perfect dress.

You do light makeup to match the dress and leave your long hair down after brushing it. While you were getting dressed you saw the countless bruises on your skin and your right arm was full of holes from the needle your nanny used to stab you with to wake you up. It’s good that the dress is long-sleeved. There’s no way the maids don’t know about your abuse since they bathe you. So, your guess is they are either the nanny’s people or they just simply don’t care enough to tell the duke. It’s clear the duke doesn’t care about Y/N so it wouldn’t benefit them to tell him when they could face the wrath of your nanny if she finds out. They think he wouldn’t do anything about it, and you think so too.

You feel compassion for Y/N. She was made to be a villain even if it doesn’t excuse her actions in the end. It’s only been two weeks for you, but she had to endure this for a lifetime.

You’re determined to change her future even more now that you know the truth. You’re going to live for her as well.

Opening the door to your room you find a maid waiting for you to lead you to the dining room as per the duke’s request. She looks taken aback by your neat appearance but doesn’t say anything and just shows you the way.

She dares to walk ahead of you. Even if you want to give her a piece of your mind you hold yourself back, you can’t afford to create a ruckus and be sent back to probation. It’s not that you care about who walks in front of you it’s the meaning of this action that angers you.

You hold back by creating a fist the pain of your nails digging into your palms in half-moon shapes keeps your head clear and controls your bubbling rage. You’re going to show everyone how Y/N won’t bow down anymore. You’re not a doormat that everyone can just walk over.

You’re not going to let everyone disrespect you ever again but to achieve that you need to make a plan and be more patient.

First thing first you need to make the duke care about you to an extent so he will listen to you. Good thing that you know the novel. You might be able to use that information to get what you want. You’re not going to make him like you, you just need to be useful for him to look at you. You’re not sure he would be even capable of liking you in the first place – not that you would want that after he neglected Y/N like that. Talk about loving family, this is just another example of being blood-related sometimes does not matter.

It's not like he’s your real dad anyway.

The dining room is just as fancy as the rest of the mansion. By the time you arrive the duke and your brother are already seated and chatting. The duke is sitting at the head of the table and Seokjin is sitting on his right.

Your tableware is set away from them probably a scheme made by your nanny to keep you isolated.

She must be afraid of why the duke suddenly wanted to dine with you when he usually never bothers to see you. You can’t let this golden opportunity pass like that. You’re going to make the most of it.

“Good morning, Father, Brother. Sorry for being late.” You give them a little courtesy. You’re careful to get your posture nice and graceful like you read in the etiquette book. The nanny purposefully discouraged the young Y/N to skip classes and remain a dumb doll for her to exploit but you’re not going to let her continue to do that.

While your posture is not perfect this will at least show that you’re trying to be as polite as possible.

You stayed up all night for an entire week to study about this new world’s etiquette and history to play your part more convincingly who knew that your knowledge would come in handy in a situation like this? You’re thankful that you decided to study even before you realised the nanny’s schemes.

You school your features to remain passive as you look at the grand duke’s and your brother’s dumb expressive faces. It looks like they are seeing a ghost. Even though you’re annoyed to be bent like that you keep the position until you receive the acknowledgement like a lady should. How annoying that you must bow like that until you are recognised by a man.

“It’s alright. Sit down, Y/N.” The duke gives you a curt nod seemingly flustered that he stared at you for so long. You remind him of his late wife a lot dressed like that. To everyone’s biggest surprise, you take a seat directly on his left side facing your brother.

You remain silent in your seat knowing that the duke’s pride will take a hit if he doesn’t correct the mistake that he didn’t even notice until you sat down. Usually, they wouldn’t care if you sit far away, they would probably think that you were the one who wanted the seat away from them in the first place as a sign of defiance but they can’t deny that you’re the lady of the house so to assume you would sit far away is an arrogant mistake on the servants part.

“What are you waiting for give my daughter a set and bring the food.” Thankfully the duke is just like you expected. He looks annoyed at the servants. His authority is absolute so the maids scurry to bring you some new tableware and bring out the food. The lonely set is forgotten at the rear end of the table. This is the first time you see something so mouthwatering in a while since you were forced to eat in your room and the food, they brought you was not even close to this. Now that you think about it, it was probably some leftover from the kitchen. No wonder Y/N is this thin.

It probably wasn’t even part of her punishment so someone must be stealing the food that is made for Y/N.

It’s hard to control your expression or your body language that is burned into your body by nature. You’re feeling uncomfortable all over that you can’t enjoy the food at all. It’s sad to see how rigid you are in the presence of your supposed family members. You don’t have any appetite even though you feel like you’re starving.

“How are things with Gold Wing? Did you manage to get them to agree with our terms?”

The Gold Wing is under the jurisdiction of the House of Summer. The old man Jung Jeyhun is a greedy man who keeps delaying his son’s succession because he wants to keep his title as an archduke. He’s the hidden boss of this novel. Y/N can’t compare with an evil villain like him. There’s probably no one else who knows he’s backing that trading company. You’re an exception only because you read the novel and know everything about how he wants to be the sole ruler of the Empire. He’s behind many unfortunate events that happen in the novel that no one finds out about until it’s too late.

“No. They’re trying to sell their stones for double the price. Knowing that none of the other companies have that much supply since they bought the rights to the mines.” Your brother looks irritated as if he recalls the meeting with the head of the company vividly.

No wonder they are cocky, they have the backing of House Summer, and they cheated the other rival companies out of the right to produce this type of stone that’s particularly high priced in the first section of the book. This stone is called Stelar which is steel but it’s a novel, so they had to give it a fancy name. Swords here are mainly made from two important ingredients iron or steel, but steel has a longer durability and is easy to craft to different shapes, so they tend to use that instead of iron which is way cheaper because of this fact. The knights used swords made with Stelar but because of the high price, it was hard to come by after the Gold Wing trading company monopolized the rights.

Their goal is to weaken the other three houses’ military power by selling the stones at a high price and getting funds for their territory but it’s not the only reason. The swords they sell are not simply made of Stelar. Steel is an alloy of iron. Iron needs to be mixed with carbon to make steel. They use some steel and put more iron to degrade the quality of the sword which breaks more easily than it should. You remember learning of it in school in your previous life, but these people don’t know of it because the novel has plot holes here and there. Since the novel focuses on the main characters things that are not related to them too much have more freedom to change, and things may differ as the author cannot mention every little thing. This could be what you need to make changes.

The truth that they tempered with the swords that got imported only comes to light when Yoongi investigates the company when he almost loses the battle with the barbarians but that battle only happens when you reach nearly half of the novel. He could tell that there was a difference in quality when he saw the sword break too easily. He made an assumption just by that and the fact that the new sword became heavier due to the added mass of iron.

Even if you feel bad for taking credit for his discovery you need to use that information, he finds out later so you can survive in this household.

“May I speak up, father?” You heard enough to grasp the current situation. You need to speak up before you lose your courage.

“What can you even contribute to this conversation?” Your brother looks angry that he got interrupted. In your eyes he’s not scary he’s just a big child throwing a tantrum when things don’t go his way. You decide to calmly face him even if you have to hide your nervousness by clasping your hands together under the table for comfort. Still can’t control the original Y/N’s physical reactions.

“I don’t think I asked brother.”

The duke raises his hand to silence Jin before he can spit out angrier remarks. The moment you appeared and gracefully bowed wearing your mother’s dress the duke could tell that something about you just became different. The air around you is filled with determination.

He got reports of you acting unusually tame so he asked you to dine together and see it for himself.

Your eyes that only reflected the world around it suddenly became full of will to live.

He’s curious to hear what you have to say. Usually, you wouldn’t speak unless you were spoken to. “Do you perhaps have a good idea of how to deal with them?” He proposes fully giving you his attention.

“The problem is that we don’t have Stelar to make swords for the knights, right? I suggest we find a mine suitable to harvest the stones we need that way we don’t have to depend on the trading company.”

“Are you a fool? Do you think if we could produce it, we would continue to make this ridiculous deal work?” You’re getting tired of your brother always cutting in. You can’t get angry though. The first thing you need to change is how people see you and you can’t get angry because the people around you will call you a temperamental child even if your anger is justified. They wouldn’t care either way they just want to belittle you. You just need to not allow them to do so.

“We have a place like that in our territory that could be suitable. I can mark it on a map if you’d like.” Even though the duke might be suspicious of how you know of a place like that he will investigate either way. This deal is too good to pass up on.

In hopes of discovering a new mine, he will even accept the flimsy lie of you just discovered it by reading some book and looking at maps.

“Alright. I will instruct the knights to check it out. If what you said is true, I will reward you.” You nod your head pleased with the outcome of this uncomfortable breakfast.

In the novel the imperial prince comes across the mine in your territory when he’s running away from assassins and due to his discovery, he gets praised by the king for solving a big problem. However, if you find the mine first that puts you in a favourable position with the other houses and even the king if you give the stones at a lower price making the Gold Wing trading company lose its base customers by making better deals.

Thankfully that painful breakfast comes to an end soon as father’s aid whispers something into his ear. He leaves in a hurry which makes you think it’s about something important and work-related.

Your brother leaves without saying a word so you can finally enjoy your food alone.

Ever since you came to this place you’ve never been this full before, it puts you in a fairly good mood. You even managed to grab the duke’s attention and for once got something more filling than stale bread.

All you need to do is wait until the mine is discovered and now that one thing is out of the way you need to start with disciplining your maids and get your nanny kicked out. Biwon had a good life here up to this point because now that you’re here you will make it a living hell for her, and that’s a promise.

“What did you talk about with the duke?” You’re not surprised to find your nanny in your room when you get back. She looks anxious you can see how her nails are bitten and she slightly thumps her foot. You got back early so if you tell her some half-truths, she won’t suspect you that much.

“He didn’t talk to me at all. He only talked with my brother about work that I don’t understand. I don’t know why they keep ignoring me. You’re the only one who cares about me, nanny.” Good thing that the maids left after serving the meal, you would be in trouble if someone overheard you and you were caught lying. You bury your head in her apron to conceal your disgusted expression when she caresses your head.

You need to act like usual, so she won’t suspect a thing. If her guard is down, it will be easier for you to make your move.

You can easily produce some fake tears for the greater good.

“That’s right, only I care about you. Who else would love a useless child like you.” You bite your tongue to hold back when Biwon hugs you. You agree with her even if you want to break her arms that hugs you like a shameless person.

Biwon doesn’t use needles on you again to erase her marks since you started to dine with the duke. Thankfully she doesn’t realise what you’re planning.

The mine you talked about last time turned out to be true and the duke was very happy to get back at the Gold Wing trading company. He started to make a profit thanks to you, and he even listened to your suggestion of lowering the price to sell it to the other houses. Developing the mining ground consumes a lot of money at the moment but the profit will be greater than ever if it’s finished. You asked to have dinner with them every day as a reward which made him look surprised. He reluctantly agreed when you asked to make your contribution a secret for now you can’t let your nanny hear about it just yet. The duke probably thought he would buy you some clothes and accessories and you will be all set. Unfortunately for them, you don’t care about luxuries especially if it comes from them.

While you would prefer to not eat with them you need to show the staff that you’re indeed the lady of the house. Now they are giving you the bare minimum of respect after the maid got scolded by your father after the tableware incident.

You didn’t think Jin would come after you excused yourself from the meal. Right when you leave the dining room your brother appears halting you in your step and grabbing your hand forcefully to stop you in your tracks.

“Where are you going in a hurry so dressed up?” Your wrist throbs in his hold. That bastard how could he grab the hand of his sister so hard? Compared to him your body is so small you look like a child next to him. You’re not surprised since you were malnourished before. You’re sure it will bruise badly but you refuse to show him that he’s hurting you.

“I believe it’s none of my brother’s business where I go in my free time.” You look into his eyes with confidence. Y/N was always longing for her brother’s love but you’re not the real Y/N and you will never consider him your brother, so his attitude doesn’t bother you at all emotionally. He simply became a person you’re forced to live with and tolerate for now.

If everything is over you will cut ties with them for good.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since your probation. If this is your way of seeking attention from father or I, that will never happen no matter what you’re scheming.”

Using the moment of his surprise you get out of his hold and get farther away from him. Your smile says it all. ‘I don’t consider you a brother so go to hell’. You’re getting angry but you refuse to show him any reaction even if you can’t exactly control the fire in your eyes.

“You don’t have to be afraid of that. I don’t consider people who neglect and belittle me my family at all. I don’t need your love or attention anymore.” You show him your back confidently as you walk away from his frozen form.

“Gaon prepare some indigestion medicine for me. Is the carriage ready?” Jin catches your voice talking to your maid still frozen on the spot you left him.

Your eyes looked different. When you were young you used to beg for his affection always clinging to him but now. Why does it look like you despise him and why does it bother him?

He never felt anything for you for a very long time.

“Yes, my lady everything is like you instructed.” You nod satisfied by the way things progress.

Now there’s only one thing left to do.

You’re on your way to meet with the head of the blacks information guild. The only one who could top the Gold Wing trading company by power would be them. The blacks is one of the largest information-selling guilds – trading only to deceive people and hide the fact that they know everything that can be known throughout the empire.

They have men everywhere. The head is conveniently the second young master of house Autumn who currently stays in House Summer territory. Jeon Jungkook is clever enough to know that information is the most important thing to have the upper hand this is how he was able to survive the battle for succession.

It will be probably dangerous to meet him but you will have to take this gamble on if you want things to work out you need the backing of the most powerful guild in the empire.

Convenient that the duke doesn’t care about Y/N’s safety so you don’t need to play hide and seek with the guards you can do your business without getting interrupted. If you say you don’t need an escort, they back off immediately and let you leave.

Following the novel’s description, you look for a house with a red chimney and a black door away from the main streets. Once you find it you have to knock two then three times until someone asks, “Are you lost?” and you have to reply with “Yes can you tell me where can I find black paint?” - and you’re in.

It’s only a select few that know about this code so Jungkook will be suspicious of how a lady with a bad reputation knows about it, but you came to make a deal that he can’t refuse. You can talk around the fact of how you know about their secret entrance.

As you expected Jungkook came himself to greet you, you could recognise that brown hair and emerald eyes anywhere.

“Please have a seat. I prepared some tea.” His smile is pleasant but calculating. His intentions are clear unlike when you talk to your blood relatives, so you’re surprisingly relaxed in his presence. Jungkook is intrigued by your body language. Usually, people are distrustful of him because of his mask. Your eyes tell him that you know more than you look.

“I have a request to make. I would like to know what this liquid is and any information that you can get on it or the bottle.” Jungkook is said to like straightforward people, so you try to be confident.

Jungkook laughs seeing your confidence. You exceed his expectations he heard that you’re stupid and extravagant with a bad temper, but it seems like his information is outdated. That needs to change he smirks.

He gives you credit for realising he wields information. Usually, people come to his guild to do business. Not many know that the purpose of the blacks is different.

“How much will you pay me for the information?”

“I heard I can pay with information for information. I have something important to tell you anyway.”

“Oh.” People rarely have any information that he doesn’t already know but you look so confident that he has to humour you. “Please enlighten me.” Taking a relaxed laid-back pose he awaits your answer.

“The head of the Gold Wing trading company is the current Duke of House Summer and he has a spy in your guild.” The only reason the blacks are not at the top is because of the upper hand they gain from the spy. No one would suspect that Jungkook’s right-hand man is a spy. He causes the guild’s destruction near the end of the novel. Heartbroken from the betrayal Jungkook is stabbed by him in the end.

Jungkook grips the side of the sofa after hearing your daring words until the wood slightly splits. He doesn’t usually trust people so to think that someone betrayed him feels impossible.

“I’m not saying that without evidence. There’s a tree in the back looking directly at the alleyway if you dig the dirt near the roots, you will find a letter with a coded message it was placed there this afternoon so you have to look for it before sunrise. I swear on my life that if I lie to you, you have the right to kill me.” The only way he will believe you is if you match the sacrifice for your accusation. Your life is on the line, but you know you’re right.

Or that you hope it’s the same as in the novel.

Jungkook instructs one of his men to look for the tree. He visibly pales when he sees the man come back with a dirty envelope. He reads the letter with a face of indifference, but you know he is furious deep inside and somewhat sad. Trust is not easily given away by him.

“Who— ” Jungkook closes his eyes to compose himself. “Who is the spy?” He appears distraught which is normal considering the fact you just dumped on him suddenly.

You hesitate for a moment. You know this information will hurt him, but he is entitled to the truth – and you do this to save his life in the end. “It’s Sam.”

You can tell it hit him hard but you don’t think he doesn’t believe you. He might get angry and it’s really not your place to intervene. However, you know this feeling very well. Being betrayed by someone you trusted. If nothing else you can sympathise with that feeling.

“Please excuse my rudeness.” You tell before you impulsively side-hug him. He’s so surprised by your embrace that he doesn’t try to push you away immediately. You’re so warm and your hand is comforting on his back. He doesn’t know you, but it feels like you understand him to some extent.

He closes his eyes and lets this moment pass by. Hidden from prying eyes it’s just – you and him for this moment.

At last, he composes himself and accepts your request. He even gives you a pendant that’s only given to the highest-ranking customers saying that your information is worth that much.

It’s a pretty pendant with a black snake on it. Looks like a masterpiece.

Thankfully nothing out of the ordinary happened while you were out. You were able to enjoy some snacks when you got back in peace as your nanny was on vacation.

You need to make your move while Biwon is away your plan needs to be done by the time she gets back. Thanks to the blacks information guild – you were able to identify the liquid your nanny made you drink every day — you only had to wait two days to hear from them.

Your discovery is enraging and liberating at the same time.

It helped you put the pieces together and even gave you an advantage to work with. To finally know the full truth of what happened to Kim Y/N. This could be a good explanation for why you couldn’t access all her memories or why some things become hazy the longer you thought about it.

Life was way too cruel for a girl like Y/N.

Now that you’ve set up the stage you just need to wait for the protagonists to arrive.

Biwon seems relaxed after her vacation; she probably enjoyed a luxurious life out of the jewellery she stole from you. You’re getting sick just from seeing her smile. It must have felt good to be able to look down on a noble lady and make Y/N cater to her all this time, exploiting a poor young lady. To think that all those rumours come from her to isolate and degrade her. She should smile while she can you think smirking through the rim of your cup.

Now’s showtime.

The taste of tea is familiar in your mouth. Due to double the dose of the liquid she made you drink each morning the symptoms came earlier than you anticipated. Suddenly getting on the drug after you stopped taking it is a huge risk, but you need to prove her involvement in the crime.

You didn’t think it would hurt this much though. Your head clouded over soon, and your body collapsed on the floor in tremor.

Gaon called the doctor immediately as you instructed and while you were getting examined your other trusted maid planted the evidence in your nanny’s room. It didn’t take long to see Biwon try to escape your trap, but it was too late when the knights found the medicine bottle.

She had nowhere to run to.

You regained consciousness but it was hard for you to open your eyes yet. The pain you felt in your abdomen felt unbearable, but you need to see this through till the end.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice this. To tell the truth, the lady came to me often to ask for headache medicine.” You could feel the worry in the doctor’s voice. You feel bad for suspecting him at first. He might be the only one to actually care for Y/N in this forsaken house.

“This drug is called blackroot it’s made from a rare flower that was used in a war experiment in the past. The characteristic of the flower is that it can manipulate the mind – it makes the user unable to control their temper and creates hazy thoughts. While it works as a brainwashing technique it has all kinds of side effects such as explosive temper, haziness, headaches, loss of appetite and memory loss. The longer someone takes it the more fragile that person will become.”

No wonder Y/N is this thin. When you first heard about this drug you felt incredibly furious to make her take such a dangerous drug just because Biwon was greedy for things she couldn’t have.

Once the dizziness subsided you were able to open your eyes it seemed like the medicine the doctor gave you had some effect. The pain is still there but your head is clearer.

“I- didn’t do this! I was framed!” Biwon begs on her knees in front of the duke and young master but seeing their reactions no one actually buys that half-hearted accusation. Serves her right.

You made sure to get solid evidence of her crime.

You’re able to sit up thanks to Gaon’s help and you look down upon your nanny with a hard expression.

You cannot believe this is finally over.

Now no one will dare to take advantage of you after this incident comes to light. It won’t make your reputation restored to how it was before but at least it will provide you with a good opportunity to show the people around you that you’re different without having to fear someone figuring out you’re not the real Y/N.

“Have the witnesses come forward.” The maid who is questioned is shaking like a leaf in front of the duke.

“Who served Y/N tea?” Jin comes forward to interrogate the maids. For some reason, he looks livid. It’s probably because of their pride. How dare they manipulate the duke’s daughter a mere maid. – they probably think like that.

“The nanny always prepares the tea for the lady in the morning. No one was allowed to touch it I swear I didn’t know that the lady’s tea had blackroot in it.”

“That’s right, we were never allowed to serve her tea or be present when she made it we would be only called when the lady was about to get dressed.” If they were present at all you think for yourself as you roll your eyes.

“N- No! That…” Biwon looks around like a cornered animal. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through. No, you promised the real Y/N that you would not let her go so easily.

“I’ve heard enough. Drag her to the underground dungeon.” After hearing the duke’s command, the knights drag Biwon out of the room. Finally, some quiet. Your head is killing you.

“Everyone leave, now. My daughter needs to rest.” As if seeing it on you that you’re nearly at your limits the grand duke instructs everyone to let you be.

Everyone leaves except for one person. Jin looks torn as he contemplates what to say to his sister.

You know the reason why Jin treated Y/N with contempt is because of that incident in the past. Y/N mad because of withdrawal symptoms from the drug called him a monster. She told him that because of him their mother died, and she even threw a teacup in his face that made him bleed. In reality, she partially blamed him for being forgotten and emotionally abused. After that Jin ignored her altogether. While saying those things are hash and not justified because of the drugs the behaviour of her brother is not something that you can overlook either. There’s no clear line to determine what’s right or wrong. You can’t simply judge if someone deserves forgiveness as it entirely depends on the person who’s granting it.

There are no right or wrong answers.

Their relationship was probably a bad fate. You’re not his sister so you have no intention of making up with him even though he’s wearing that pitiful expression. You feel bad for Y/N but you’re not going to live as her shadow forever. Once this story ends you will leave this kingdom and live as yourself. To make that happen you need to keep your relationship with Y/N’s family distant just like before so you could leave without problems in the future.

“How are you feeling?” Y/N has memories of when her brother spoke to her softly like this. Too bad it’s too late for Y/N to see this. You pull your hand away when he tries to hold it.

“This doesn’t change a thing between you and me. I would appreciate it if you could ignore me like before.” You turn away not inclined to see that pitiful expression on his face anymore.

Thankfully he leaves without a fuss this time.

Things are only growing more awkward as time passes. You made the suggestion of dining with them every day to avoid being punished by Biwon, but it comes back to bite you in the ass now that she’s gone, and no one dares to bother you anymore. You ignore the looks of pity you receive from the staff. They were the ones who ignored and badmouthed you. They have no right to take pity on you at all.

Those who did not try to see the truth don’t deserve to feel regretful.

It's annoying to see the duke and your brother try to get closer to you. They have no idea what Y/N had to go through while they were living in their blissful ignorance.

You wonder if things would have been different if she had been born as a boy in this period. Women are often ill-fated. How tragic.

“Your birthday is coming up in a few months. Do you have something in mind about how you want the celebration banquette?” Your fork freezes in the air when the duke calls you.

While you don’t want a party it would be good to build your reputation. You have no choice but to have one.

“I’ll prepare for it. Thank you for your concern.” You keep your eyes on the food. After taking that double dose your appetite seems to be worse than before. You need to gain some weight, you’re too thin as it is.

“Don’t worry about the budget just prepare how you like.” You’re getting dizzy this is getting bad you overestimated and thought some rest was all you needed. You need to take better care of yourself if you want to beat the final boss of the story. This is about time you meet with your favourite character as well. You need to look your best even if he only glances at you for a second. You’re getting excited just thinking about him.

“Alright. Excuse me I’m full.” You step away from the table to leave and prepare for the upcoming events when you lose your sight for a moment. Thankfully the head butler catches you in time that you’re not faceplanting the floor this moment.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You push the old man away with reddened ears. This is so embarrassing.

“I’ll carry you to your room.” Your hand automatically holds onto your brother when he suddenly picks you up, to keep your balance. Now you’re really getting tired of their sudden act of affection.

“I said. I’m fine.” You pursue your lips in a frown when he keeps ignoring you to let you down.

“You can hate me all you want. I deserve it but I’m not letting you down.” You’re speechless. At least he knows. It doesn’t matter if he has regrets now that you solved everything.

If it weren’t for your effort and sacrifice things would have been left alone and you would be still suffering without anyone to rely on at the hands of your greedy nanny.

They can feel guilty all they want; it doesn’t change a thing. If anything, you’re feeling angrier about how they think they have the right to make things right after everything that has happened.

It’s bothersome.

“It won’t change anything. No matter how hard you try I’ll never consider you as family again. Not after you and father abandoned me. You don’t know anything about me or how much I suffered. If you didn’t care then don’t care now.” It’s probably hard to hear and somewhat you feel guilty for saying that since you don’t know what Y/N would have wanted but this is how you feel.

You’re torn about what you should do.

This is supposed to be your home when you feel the safest.

However, you can’t remember a single good memory or a time when you felt relaxed in this place. It just makes you sad.

“I understand.” His hand around you tightens just a tiny bit before he relaxes his posture and the hands that hold you gently. At least he’s not trying to come up with excuses. He knows fully well that what you told him was the truth. They have no idea how much you had to suffer since they kept ignoring you. His heart is getting heavy when he realises how light his sister feels in his arms. A woman in her twenties should weight a lot more than this. He’s carrying you with care and gently places you on top of your bed. You have no intention of getting closer to him, but it’s been bothering you for a while ever since you saw that memory. You feel like they don’t deserve your kindness. You wonder if Y/N would be forgiving. If she would be able to embrace them and trust them again. You know you can’t.

“You’re not a monster and I’m sorry for saying that so stop thinking about useless things.” You impulsively grab his hand before he can leave. This is all you can give him as an apology – you know Y/N probably would have wanted him to hear that at least. Something wavers in his eyes. You didn’t think such a small gesture would make him cry. Now that you think about it probably no one said such words to him before. His biggest fear. From an early age, he always heard that his mother died because of him. It shouldn’t be a small child’s fault. It makes you feel like this whole family is just unfortunate.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Jin holds your hand with shaking fingers. You can clearly feel his tears fall as he pushes his face into your palm seeking some comfort. You don’t know how but you can feel that this apology is sincere. You don’t have the heart to push him away this time.

Just this once you will allow it.

“The captain of the imperial guards shouldn’t cry like this.” You pat his head while he cries. Seeing such a powerful figure crying into your skirt on his knees feels weird.

He hadn’t left for a while and even when he did, he looked reluctant. You could tell what he was thinking without having to hear him say it. He’s afraid that the next time you see him you will push him away and avoid him. Your hand on his head and your words comforted him. He’s the one who did wrong but, in the end, you helped him instead deal with his biggest fear a little better.

He realises that he doesn’t deserve such a good sister as you.

His sudden resolve and earnest eyes make you bite your lips in worry. You know it won’t be good when he suddenly turns around with fiery passion. “I, Kim Seokjin give my oath to Kim Y/N that I will protect you for as long as I live. If I break my promise, I’m willing to die a miserable death.” This is your first time seeing someone give their knight’s oath. His hands are elegantly placed over his heart in a kneeling position and his eyes are fierce and honest. Stupid brother, you’re not the one he should give his oath to!

That was not your intention to make him so motivated. You should really learn how to ignore things in the future if you want to avoid bothersome situations like this. It’s not like you can reject him now either.

After he finally left because of work called you collapsed on your bed.

You can’t believe he gives you the knight’s oath instead of the female lead. He’s supposed to fall in love with her and be the miserable second male lead. You expect that things will be different if you change your destiny, but such drastic changes make you anxious for the future development of the plot.

Thankfully your favourite character was not caught up in the love triangle since his territory is the farthest away from the capital. He doesn’t frequent gatherings because of his inability to fully control his powers, and he has a bad reputation overall because of his war achievements and fearful power. Throughout the novel, he is described as someone who doesn’t care about women and is only fixed to find a way to control his abilities.

Min Yoongi you can’t wait to see him at the upcoming hunting festival.

Everything becomes normal and quiet.

Your daily life is better except for the torturous dinners with your family. Thankfully Jin is busy with imperial work and your father manages his new business and duties as a duke, so you don’t have to run into them too much inside the house.

In two or three days you make a trip to see Jungkook and get useful information and sometimes chat over some tea.

What’s next on your list is to gather personal intel on people who will attend the hunting festival. The fact that this is organised by the Duke of Summer is making you anxious. You remember some crazy shit happen around that time and his main target will be your favourite character. Min Yoongi.

Trying not to look too obsessed with a man you’ve never met before you decided to look over his information last.

There’s not much that could be gathered on him (even by a professional information broker as the North keeps their gates locked skin-tight) in the first place the info that your eyes skim through is less than you expected even with the additional stuff that you know because of the novel is limited mostly to his childhood and main events which is not much at all.

He wasn’t present in all the episodes but when he’s involved – well, things were never good.

You don’t know all the archduke’s special abilities which is a concern. You know Min Yoongi can read minds. The limitation to his power is that he has to touch the person to hear all the thoughts but with malicious intent, it doesn’t even need that.

It makes him the second most powerful ability user since he can detect lies and see one’s true self. Someone has to be well aware of his ability to hide something from him.

His special skill is to tell what the other person is thinking good or bad but that means that he could hardly hear his own thoughts. The world is never silent for his ears and that has its consequences. What little is known of them in the outside world is that all the Min descendants had gone mad at some point in their lives and chose to kill themselves when there was another person that could take over the Ducey or their son became of age if they were lucky to hold on until then. Min Yoongi’s tragic childhood is summarised in a few sad lines in the novel it was not overly detailed, but you remember feeling sad.

Whilst your survival is the priority you want to change Yoongi’s fate as well if it’s possible. Even if he’s not going to madly fall in love with you. You want him to have a happy life and not end as tragically as in the novel. You liked his character a lot. Even when he was faced with such hardships, he never gave up he would never succumb to the same fate as his father, and he held on until the last moment of his life.

You admired his determination to live.

You want to do the same with your second chance and hold on until the last moment trying to change your fate.

Who knows maybe you could overcome it together.

So many scenarios run through your head imagining how you will greet him when you finally meet him, what you will say to him. All of those restless nights couldn’t have been wrong when you’re finally faced with him. None of them could get you ready for that hard cold stare that he shows you.

You practically burst open the carriage door after the chaperone states that you’ve arrived.

Being in the same space as your brother and father acting all cute and considerate for almost four full hours made you want to let the ground swallow you whole and never want to see the sun again.

This is when you first make eye contact with him – or so you think. His eyes visibly slip over your face as if he’s not even seeing you just looking through you like you’re one tree of the dozens curving the landscape. It hurts your pride a lot to be invisible to your favourite character, but you gulp it down and hold your head high when you exit the carriage.

You knew it well that he was that type of person, but it didn’t mean it still did not hurt you to see it with your own eyes. There’s one thing to say he’s not interested in women but in reality, it felt like he’s not into humans – not just women. Hearing everyone’s thoughts might be a reason why he would be so over humans that he doesn’t even want to acknowledge them but damn.

Now that you see him and not just read about him you can tell two things already. One, he’s crazy handsome. The lines that describe how good-looking he is does not give him justice. Two, the lines in the novel are too tame to describe how much he loathes to see and interact with anyone. It’s almost comical how disgust is written all over his face when he has to shake hands with nobles or greet the young ladies.

That face still has many admirers even when his expression is a permanent frown all the time. Most likely to his greatest disapproval, he’s very popular with the ladies despite his bad reputation.

You can imagine how annoying it must be for him. Forgetting how you felt hurt before you even started to feel bad for him. His circumstances are unique and, in fact, no one knows what he has to deal with every single day. Even though you know you don’t really know what it feels like.

You’re contemplating how to approach him to not get immediately shut down or seem too suspicious when some of the ladies have you locked in a circle. Seeing their arrogant expressions, you could already tell what would happen when they finally opened their mouths.

“What a surprise to see you attend this year. Are you even allowed to be outside yet?”

You grit your teeth and smile at them.

It’s a waste to argue with them and you’re not here to let them bully you. You came here to see your favourite character and they are already dampening your mood.

“The ladies might need to check their eyesight soon. I arrived here with my brother and father so if you have complaints about me being here you could always go to them.” You speak with a permanent smile but there’s nothing friendly in your expression as you cross them leaving the circle of hyenas behind you.

They’re lesser nobles of course they wouldn’t dare complain to them. Your family is powerful after all one of the four most powerful people in the kingdom is your father. They targeted you specifically because you were an easy target so far too dumb to attack them with words like they do, and Y/N's violent temper just served the right purpose to belittle her and make her the most hated woman in high society. You’re not going to give them the chance to humiliate you anymore. They are just extras in a novel.

The thought alone makes you smile. Right. You’re the main villain in this novel but you’re going to turn it into your story so that you can be the main character in your life.

Something that you always wanted to try.

The first day goes by without incident. After the second day of the hunting festival starts the hunting begins and activities for both the ladies and men begin slowly but surely following the original plot of the novel.

Until there’s a big error occurring in the middle. You don’t remember any banquet happening to welcome the most influential families. This could mean that it wasn’t relevant to the main plot to mention, or things changed somehow and now there’s a sudden dinner plan made by someone.

There’s a banquet held for the four archdukes and their families and while you’re thrilled that you’re seated right across from your favourite character you were not expecting him to death glare you right in front of your salad.

To your best knowledge you haven’t even greeted him yet so why does he look like he wants to murder your entire family? You’re unsure.

At some point, you stop avoiding him and look him in the eye but still, you can’t read his expression at all.

You feel like you don’t have to emphasise that you couldn’t eat a single thing at that dinner in peace.

You jump when a man approaches you in the empty hallway and when you look at him something clicks in your mind, now that you think about it you can recognise this man from anywhere. He’s Namjoon his right-hand man the only person that he tolerates.

“You scared the living shit out of me.” You’re so surprised that you don’t check your language before it’s already out in the open. Your eyes are wide as you look at the man probably thinking that you’re a weird person. Shit. Now you’ve done it. You tried so hard until now to remain in character and not use slang words or bad language.

Which is hard on their own as you breathe and live with words that end in fuck most likely than not.

The struggles of a modern woman. Haah.

“I mean you should not hide in the shadows like an assassin ready to strike Mr. You scared me.” You try to put the blame on him entirely so he would forget your previous words and it seems to work as he’s quick to apologise and state his business.

“Duke Min would like to speak with you. If you could please follow me, I will lead you to him.” You narrow your eyes after Namjoon finishes his sentence. Him wanting to see you is very weird.

Why?

“Does this have to do with him glaring at me throughout dinner?” You take a step back narrowing your eyes suspiciously at the man. Even though he’s just the messenger you can’t help but ask. You and him being alone after you witnessed his personality might not be the best idea even if he’s still your favourite character. You don’t want to die by his hands either.

“He.. the duke has a difficult personality but he’s not a bad person. I’m sure he’s just interested in the lady.” You can tell that Namjoon really believes that but for some reason you can’t picture him being interested in you. Y/N might be pretty but the duke is not that kind of person to be captivated by something so shallow as that. That has to be a different reason why he wants to talk with you in private and while you’re anxious.

You decide its best to see what he wants.

Also, he’s not someone that anyone can just say no to. He will most likely force you to meet him. It might be your best option to get this over with and see where this conversation goes. If it even goes anywhere. He’s a practical person like that.

You’re anxious and excited at the same time as you follow Namjoon just a step behind.

“Who are you?” You’re perplexed to meet with this type of question. He cornered you without warning, both his hands were caging your hip, your backside digging into the edge of the table.

You’re scared and strangely excited to be this close. Your heart is beating heavily trying to break out from your ribcage.

“Kim Y/N.” You reply dumbly while still trying to process this sudden change in his behaviour and his closeness to you.

You were greeting him first and suddenly you’re completely caged in.

“Kim? Is Duke Kim your father?” You would find his furrowing brows adorable if you weren’t so close to witnessing it. His scent is overpowering your senses, and your faces are just a hair's breadth away from touching – your favourite character makes it hard for you to think straight. Air is caught in your lungs when he holds you by your chin tilting your head up to meet with his eyes.

“Y-Yes.” You’re unsure what he wants to hear from you. From the moment you stepped into his office, he kept questioning you without answering any of yours in return.

“Am I interrupting something?” Both of your gazes turn to face a surprised Kim Namjoon standing by the door. He looks exactly like he just got here and witnessed something weird happening. You can’t blame him for it, you’re surprised as well. Min Yoongi keeps acting weird. He looks somewhat bewitched as he keeps looking between you and Namjoon almost bordering to look crazy in your eyes for a moment.

As if he’s in a deep thought about something mind breaking discovery.

Yoongi didn’t hear his right hand man coming at all but what’s even weirder than that is he can’t hear his thoughts at all.

It all started when he tried to read this woman’s mind throughout the dinner celebration but failed while everyone’s else mind spoke to him clearly. He found it strange for her to be the only exception. As if she has a shield around her mind that doesn’t allow his power to penetrate. The Kim family’s power is to neutralize other powers (everyone is aware of it as the family never tried to hide it) but that can’t be the answer since he could hear their thoughts all the same as you have to be aware of the power you’re trying to block but no one knows that he can read minds.

But now upon making contact with her, he can’t even hear what others are thinking. Which could mean her power is even more rare compared to her family. Everything is quite like it was never before. It’s unsettling but on the other hand, it’s quiet and peaceful.

A realisation draws on him that Kim Y/N might be the key to finally learning to control this power of his that has been plaguing his generation of heirs and forcing them to live a miserable life until they either take their lives or become insane. Her power acts like a tranquillizer almost. Tasting this peaceful silence Yoongi’s hand curves around her waist more protectively. Protective of this silence he’s experiencing for the first time in his life.

He will do anything to keep this woman by his side from now on. He comes to a firm resolution on the spot.

“Be my wife.” To say you feel shocked after hearing that would be an understatement. This is not your usual love confession, and you know it. There’s nothing tender in his words or expression if anything it feels like a business transaction to you.

It’s clear he’s proposing an arranged marriage kind of deal where you both get something out of it but you’re not fond of the idea. In your previous life, you never had a real boyfriend whilst you dated here and there. Someone you could say is the love of your life you never once experienced that feeling, and you don’t want a marriage in your second life without love. You decided to do anything you wanted from now on.

“I’m sorry but I have to refuse your proposal. I won’t marry a man I know is not in love with me and I don’t love him either. This is not something I want.” Too shocked to reply you use that time to get out of his hold and get away before he regains his senses after getting rejected. He probably didn’t think anyone would dare to say no to him as he was aware to be popular with the ladies. This just makes you even more unique as it was anyone else, they would have said yes immediately to an offer like that. Namjoon gets out of your way as you leave, his mouth hanging open still trying to process that the man who notoriously hates women suddenly asked for a lady’s hand in marriage and getting brutally rejected by one at the same time.

The door shuts behind you abruptly and Yoongi massages his temple with his hands trying to figure out what he did wrong for you to storm out like that. Was his proposal not to your liking? What does it even mean to marry the person you love is beyond his comprehension.

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x you #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts fluff #btsghostie #ksmutclub

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kabr0ztrousers · 14 days ago

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fem reader finds a mysterious book that summons different monsters or creatures that takes care of human needs and reader chooses to summon the demon and they have sex and make out thats all-

ima be butterfly anon 🦋 so you know that it's me as I will be requesting more in the future.

You can absolutely claim 🦋 if you like, and I do love an opportunity to make another demon. Now without further ado, here's

Kabr0z Writes Episode 33: The book

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Excessive cum; demon summoning; long preamble; monstrous genitalia; butt stuff

A/N: This is the last ask at time of writing, so if you have an idea for something you wanna see, or just want to call me a perv, please reach out! I feed on engagement, after all

##################################

Antiques filled your flat. Mostly worthless tchotchkes, the odd chair or end table missing the rest of some hypothetical set, one particular lamp constructed mostly from a taxidermised heron. You loved them all, but most of all your carefully climate-controlled bookshelf. Your collection wasn't particularly valuable; there weren't many first editions amongst the ranks and what you had were in pretty uniformly terrible condition. The spoils of estate auctions and charity shops.

This time was different. You weren't going to be in Bristol long, so decided to stroll down the alleys of the older parts of the city, far from the university students and the train stations. This shop was barely a hole in the wall. It was only about twice as wide as its own doorway, but it went deeper than made sense. Crowded on all sides with stacks and shelves of books, mostly well-thumbed paperbacks with peeling spines or the odd book of fairy stories from the 60s or 70s, more penguins than you could shake a stick at. One in particular caught your eye. Leather bound, stained a deep royal purple, and with an embossed sigil on the spine. 'The Book of Creatures and Calling' You hadn't heard of this work, and couldn't find any author or attributions on the first few pages. It looked handwritten, a flowing looping hand filling the work in neat, dense rows of text and painstakingly drawn diagrams.

You put it atop the pile of volumes you carried and bought your haul. Vintage copies of Grimm's Fairy Stories, Robin Hood, Tales of Arabian Nights, and that book.

You got home and put away your haul, minus the oddball. That you set about reading, googling passages from it and trying to get some inkling on who wrote it, was it published, or did you just wind up with a random manuscript?

The internet, predictably, produced nothing of use. The book seems never to have been published, or at least nobody had put any parts of it on the web. It was fascinating at any rate. Step by step directions for calling forth all manner of creatures, even organised by difficulty with simpler rituals at the start, and the more daunting ones near the end.

You opted for a simple one to start. A brownie. You drew the circle and left out offerings and a worn-out pair of shoes then went to bed.

When you checked the ritual in the morning, the offerings were gone, and the shoes were as good as new. Better, in fact.

You realised what you had. An honest-to-god grimoire. And you've successfully summoned a faerie.

You checked the book again, making sure to read and re-read every sentence. The compact was simple, the offerings were to pay the faerie back for coming and fixing a broken thing. You didn't owe it anything more, and a pair of shoes was specifically recommended as an example of 'a broken thing'. You sighed in relief. The last thing you needed was to owe something a debt.

Over the next few weeks you tried tougher summons, and got more confident in your abilities. You called forth a dryad who gave you some fruit in return for a song, a walking broom who cleaned your flat, even a golden goose once, though it didn't lay anything for you.

The day you really found the potential of the book came later. You'd been drinking pretty heavily, your boyfriend had just walked out on you. Wine and ice cream wasn't cutting it, you needed something more substantial. You reached for the book and turned to the last summon. An incubus. For the low, low price of a sliver of your soul, you could get the best fuck of your life. You shrugged and finished your wine. Worth it.

The ritual was much more complex. Carefully tracing sigils within sigils, lighting candles and incense, making sure that the protection and binding spells were perfect (It would be disastrous if they failed) before using a kitchen knife to cut a slit into your fingertip.

A single drop of blood welled up from your finger, then lifted off it, drifting to the centre of the ritual. A smell of iron joined the sweet incense and paraffin in the air. The candles flickered for a moment, and he appeared.

He was tall, brass-skinned, and well dressed. He wore a pair of tight black leather trousers and a black silk waistcoat, covered in brocade embroidered in fine gold thread. His feet, each toe tipped with a knifelike black claw, were bare and in a pointe stance about an inch above the floor. The burnished metallic skin of his arms and face reflected the soft candlelight, sending fluid reflections across your walls as he took in his surroundings. Atop his head were a pair of black horns, twisting out, then in, then straight up. His hair was the same metal as his face, a coif of impossibly thin brass wire. His eyes were the only part of him that wasn't polished metal or charred bone, black scleras surrounded glowing red irises and horizontally slitted pupils.

"A professional job, well done young summoner" His features twisted to a smile, revealing silver teeth and a forked silver tongue "I can see you know your craft"

The book had warned you about this, that he would try to beguile you, twist you into agreeing to something you didn't want. You wordlessly proferred a scroll to him. A contract. It was carefully worded: no verbal contracts would be binding for the rest of his time with you, he would give you an evening of carnal delight, and in return he would get a sliver of your soul equivalent to an hour at the end of your lifespan.

The demon read the document, and laughed "I'm not used to you people being so well prepared. Very well. An hour of your life, taken from the very end, in return for my services for the evening. This ought to be fun." He bowed deeply "I am Kamilik, lesser demon in service to Simizel and denizen of the Ashen Pit"

You told him your name, being careful to phrase it as how he could address you, which only made him chuckle further.

Once you had both signed the document, you led him to your bedroom. Your hands shook as you started to undress for the creature you had invited in to your home. He touched your waist, and stroked your hair. He must've been able to smell the wine on your breath as he pulled you towards him, easing off your top and expertly unfastening your bra, casting the garments into the corner of the room. He sat on the bed and pulled you on top of him, one clawed hand on your back, the other cupping your face before he drew you into a kiss.

His breath smelled of metal, and his skin was hot, but his lips were soft as you melted into his arms. Sat on his lap, eyes closed and running your hands through each others hair, feeling one another's bodies. You unfastened his waistcoat and he pulled it off, keeping one hand on you, then the other, never breaking the kiss.

It was like making out with a radiator, if the radiator was soft and receptive to the touch. You pushed your tongue into his mouth and he gently sucked on it, the heat even more intense, but never painful. Then his tongue entered your mouth, the forked muscle flitting in, tasting like how a 9-volt feels. You gasped with surprise at the sensation, but relaxed into it as his needle-sharp claws drew intricate patterns on your back. You pressed yourself against him, feeling your tits flatten on his burnished chest and enjoying the warm wetness spreading between your legs.

You pulled away, and knelt off the side of the bed. You yanked his waistband down, before he cut a slit down his trousers and they burned away, leaving him nude on the bed in front of you. His cock was fleshy and vascular, red veins criss-crossed pale flesh, coming to a gentle point at the end. You admired it for a moment, before taking it in one hand and jerking it. You heard him sigh as your hand pumped his shaft, even more so when you started to lick and suck on his balls. You felt a drop of precum start to leak from him, getting on your hand. You pressed a fingertip against his brass asshole, intending to gently work it in, but his eager butt swallowed it up to your knuckle with no resistance. You curled it up and touched his prostate.

You heard him groan and felt his cock pulse in your hand. He was cumming already. You felt drops of hot liquid on your face and pulled away, watching him pump a fountain of golden cum into the air. Eventually the pulsing stopped, your hand was coated in the hot, sticky gold liquid. He wasn't going soft

"I'm a demon. We're done when you say we are"

You smiled, this is going to be fun. You reached into your bedside drawer and produced a toy, long and curved, designed to seek out a man's prostate and press against it mercilessly. You pushed it up the demon. As soon as it found its mark, he started spurting again. This time you were ready.

You pushed the cock into your mouth, gripping his pulsating balls in one hand and rattling the toy inside him with the other. He filled your mouth almost immediately, and you gulped him down.

Your cunt was starting to tingle in anticipation, but you wanted to indulge yourself a little more like this. You bobbed your head, taking in the warming cum and the demon's moans and gasps as pleasure turned to pain and back to pleasure. Every few dips you'd push his tip into your throat, causing him to spurt harder and cry out louder.

You eased up on the toy, the flow slowed but didn't stop as you pulled his cock, twitching and leaking, out of your mouth. The demon was already lying flat on his back, hands either side of him, clenching his fists against the shaking. You straddled his cock and started rocking back and forth on it, adding his cum to the lubrication on your pussy before pushing him in.

He felt bigger on the inside, the pulsing mass of flesh pumping cum into you already. You started to ride him. Every rock of your hips spilled cum out of you. You leant forwards to work his frenulum inside you. His face screwed up as he grabbed you. The sharp nails on his hands marking your skin, but not cutting. You couldn't reach the toy pressed against his orgasm button, but that wasn't stopping him now. Every thrust into you, every roll of your hips, every touch of your hands on his skin made him spurt more and more into you until it was flowing out of you and onto the bedsheets. You pushed a hand between your distended belly and his twitching one, pressing against your clit for only a moment before you gasped and realised your oen climax.

You bucked harder against him, your abs pushing and pussy clenching. He came even harder, cum squirting out of you. He released you and you leant back. His cock was against your g-spot now and still spraying that hot cum into you. You grabbed the toy and fucked his ass with it. He screamed as you punished his rear, riding his cock into you and you orgasmic clenching redoubled as you came again. Your belly bounced on him almost comically, full of the golden semen he seemed to have an endless supply of.

You pulled out the toy and slumped forwards onto him, spent.

He kissed your lips again, and you kissed him back.

You grinned "Give me ten minutes, then round 2?"

He chucked "Whatever you want"

#####################################

Post script: Once again, my ask box runneth dry! Please, oh reader, toss an idea to your Kabr0z and something will likely come of it!

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janeyshivers · 1 month ago

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i think a big part of the reason why, even when Pratchett was alive, it was always Rowling who was held up as the gold standard of a modern British fantasy author, is that Pratchett was above all else just far more honest about like, The English writ large.

a lot of ink has been spilled on the saccharine nostalgia of Harry Potter books, particularly as they went on, that longing for the WW2 Blitz spirit that Rowling herself didn't actually live through, but is lionised in our culture and was subsequently regurgitated uncritically by her, on account of her being an unimaginative hack. "keep calm and carry on" is the core aesthetic of the later books, while the earlier ones are far more of the sort of irritating, faux-charming, brilliant baffling bouncing Britishness that captured the hearts of teaboos who knew no better around the world, and also presented a highly self-flattering image to the people who have to actually live on this shithole island. this was especially true of cultural institutions such as schools, libararies, etc, who found it germaine to push these middling children's books relentlessly on kids, while massive multimillion dollar movie projects were cranked out, because they were deeply, painfully in love with a cutesy mirage of England that we like to project to the world to cover for the fact that this place is the husk of a dead empire, inhabited by tiny islands of obscene hoarded wealth in an increasingly desperate sea of insane deprivation and poverty.

and on a certain surface-level reading, you could almost accuse Pratchett of doing the same thing. after all, he also wrote whimsical fantasy tales largely set in a transparently England-ish setting (that is, Ankh-Morpork and the surrounding countryside areas on the Discworld). they even feature lots of witches and wizards! his books are full of bumbling, good-natured Englishmen doffing their caps to the lord, scenic countryside vistas, dirty and yet charming city streets, bustling fairs, rascally pickpockets, and generally a lot of the same aesthetic signifiers of Rowling's earlier work especially.

but.

read any amount of Pratchett's stuff and you realise very quickly that he understands that there is a persistent, genuinely violent nastiness underpinning a lot of this stuff. I Shall Wear Midnight is a good example, as the honest, hard-working country folk of the Chalk never even acknowledge the shameful mob killing of the old toothless woman who Tiffany has had to bury. these charming communities are places where well-known cases of domestic violence go unaddressed until a pregnant girl is beaten so badly she has a miscarriage, and they are places where miserable, curtain-twitching sneaks spread lies and rumours with impunity. Guards, Guards! fits here as well, a book about how the not-insincere love of the people of Ankh Morpork for their new king is insane and destructive and ends up getting quite a lot of innocent people killed.

what i appreciate most about how Pratchett talks about this stuff is that neither the nastiness nor the more charming elements are artifice. while they seem to exist as a contradiction at first glance, a core feature of English culture from Pratchett's perspective is that these impulses exist in a tense balance at all times. Mr Petty hits his daughter until she miscarries, and also stings his hands gathering nettles to make a little grave for the poor kid before trying to hang himself. that doesn't make what he did ok, but it does mean grappling with the fact that people are complicated and don't make sense, culture doesn't entirely cohere, and that the things you might like about "Englishness" are part and parcel of some genuinely horrifying shit.

obviously i'm not going to sit here and pretend that Pratchett was some plucky underdog compared to Rowling, the dude had a knighthood, and there are even a few movies based on his stuff (I'm rather partial to the 2008 The Colour of Magic adaptation myself), although nothing on the scale of the Potter movies. but at a glance, it does seem strange that Rowling was our nation's marquis literary export in the 2000s, considering that Pratchett was more established, working in the same genre, and also a significantly more technically skilled and insightful writer than her. but, that's the thing, he was insightful enough that his writing didn't make for decent cultural slop like Rowling's did. Harry Potter is vapid enough for corporate interests and cultural institutions to build a multinational media empire on, not through some insidious conspiracy to poison the minds of a generation of irritating millenials, but because it was there and it was popular enough and it was easy to use, because it's not very complicated or challenging. Discworld is not perfect by any means, and i have my personal disagreements with Pratchett's (relatively) rosy perspective on humans as being fundamentally very decent. but the stories make you think, they encourage you to engage with the world critically, and they are written with a degree of empathy and kindness that clash with any earnest attempt to shore up "English values".

#“english” chosen quite deliberately here btw #not using it interchangably w british #discworld #i shall wear midnight #guards! guards!#terry pratchett #fuck harry potter #fuck jkr #long shiverposting

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neil-gaiman · 1 year ago

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Not an ask, just a thank you. Really enjoyed spending time with you yesterday at NJPAC. It was an early Christmas present for my husband and he didn't know where we were going until we got in the car yesterday morning (we live in South Jersey across from Philadelphia). He was so excited when I showed him the tickets on my phone. The sincere and often hilarious way you answered our questions and the thoughtful selections of the stories you read (Donna will live with me forever) made for a wonderful afternoon. My favorite story was about the dinner party and Armistead Maupin, it was so cool to hear a new favorite author (yes, my husband Jim and I are late comers to the magic - though I did read Good Omens way back in the day - but we're making up for lost time) speak so lovingly of an all time favorite author (I worked in book shops for about a decade and Tales of the City was always the first book I suggested to the baby gays venturing into the world of queer literature). Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. It as been a tough year for us, perhaps the worst in our 38 years together, as I was forced out of my job of 20 years last fall and 60 is a tough age to find work (I just got a new job a couple weeks ago thanks to a dear friend) so to hear Jim say twice yesterday that it was "one of the happiest days of my life" really brought joy to my soul. You are henceforth my Angel of Joy, Neil. Peace, joy, and long life to you and yours. Mike Kiley-Zufelt

That means a lot. And I'd recommend Armistead Maupin to everyone.

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uglypastels · 8 months ago

Text

Ridlington Park | II | Eddie Munson regency!au

Dear reader, my sincerest apologies for the delay in the upcoming chapter. It seems that there had been some technical problems at the printer's shop and some terrible time management on this writer's part. Before we resume this tale of love, however, I would also like to thank all who have read the first chapter and shared their thoughts on it with not only me but others. Know that your support does not go unnoticed, and I cherish it with all my heart.

Word Count: 8.1k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. family disputes. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works.

The Ridlington Park Collection | Correspondence | Join the Taglist - Read Chapter 1 here -

Chapter Two: A Time for Scandal

“At a private ball, no lady will refuse an introduction to a gentleman. It is an insult to her hostess, implying that her guests are not gentlemen. It is optional with the lady whether to continue to drop the acquaintance after the ball is over, but for that evening, however disagreeable, etiquette requires her to accept him for one dance, if she is disengaged, and her hostess requests it.” - The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, 1873

The Royal family's return to London brings a new life to the city each year as its elite congregates fervently for all possible occasions. The notable number of balls, soirees, and other social gatherings mark a particularly eventful point in the year that no eager lady or gentleman would want to miss. And whilst the matchmakings occupy most thoughts, this motivation somewhat overshadows the mere social aspect of the season. The parties offer the perfect meeting ground for all ton members, as they can indulge in all the niceties the hosts provide. Whether it be the music, magnificent foods and drinks, or simply pleasant conversation. To miss a social event, especially for a debutante such as yourself, Dear Reader, is to miss an opportunity to present oneself to her suitors and the entire town. It is to miss the happenings that drive the whole court forward.

Thus, you were obligated to accept every single invitation presented to you and your family. And as spectacular as they all were, weariness settled deep in your bones with each new event. No matter how lavish, it all began to blur together into one repetitive pattern.

Each time, you would find yourself atop a grand staircase, your family trailing behind, as the earlier arrivals looked up in awe and envy. With a shaky breath and a tremble to the hand holding your skirt, you descended the steps onto the dancefloor, where a wonderful yet pesky gentleman awaited to greet you. If fortune were in their favour, they would even gather in a pack, making you the bearer of choice who to greet first, whose offer for refreshment to accept, and whose signature to claim on your dance card in which order. Meanwhile, your mother gawked in a nearby distance with a smile stretching for miles, already planning what cakes to ask the chef about for the next morning’s calling hour.

The lights around you sparkled wonderfully, and you could not deny that Lord and Lady Parsnell had outdone themselves for their annual ball. Theirs was a particularly beautiful ballroom, with windows covering the entirety of the large west wall. It overlooked the gardens illuminated with lanterns of all colours, and the room was in an everlasting golden glow. The music played from the far right corner, where the musicians were located on their platform, all dressed in elaborate costumes and wigs, completely painted in bronze to imitate the likeness of statues and as the bypassing guests were gawking up at them, you felt a twinge of a connection between yourself and the talent across the room.

‘Would you care to dance, miss?’ one of the gentlemen asked, and as you could not find a single polite response in your entire vocabulary, you opted for a kind smile as you extended your hand in agreement.

As with all the others, this was making itself out to be a long and dreadful evening.

On your way to the centre of the floor to join all the other couples, you caught a glimpse of your oldest brother, Nicholas. To no one’s surprise, he had found himself in deep conversation with a young lady dressed in a gorgeous sea-blue dress, a fan to match fluttering purposefully over her bosom. For the entirety of the dance, you kept your eyes on the two of them. No matter how lacking intellectual stimulation your brother’s endeavours may be, they forever remained more fascinating than anything your dance partner had to offer. You only turned your attention to the man at the harsh sound of his laugh. It appeared he had been entertaining himself with his jokes for the duration of the waltz. This and how he slurred you around the room, practically dragging your limbs behind him, made you doubt you were very needed at that moment.

Finally, the music slowed, and you were released from Lord Bramley's harsh hold on your hands. You bid him farewell with a respectable curtsy and walked away before the man could utter another word, let alone request another dance. As you walked off the floor, a most horrid apparition revealed itself in the corner of your eye in the shape of another available man in conversation with your mama. Too occupied by the gentleman, she had not noticed you to have finished your dance, and so you saw the opportunity to make yourself scarce in the crowd, at least for the moment.

‘You cannot hide forever.’ A hum more irritating than a critter tickled at your ear as your second brother, Christopher, appeared by your side at the confectionery table.

‘I certainly can try, can I not?’ you grinned, tasting the icing on a strawberry cake.

‘Because we know how well that turned out for you the last time,’ he reminded you. All you could do was grin at him maliciously as you thought back to the day when—

❀❀❀

Your mother had lovingly retrieved you from the stables as you had attempted to escape one of your family’s countless matchmaking attempts. And while the man you had met, Mr Steve Harrington, had turned out to be quite pleasant, you still struggled to relive the embarrassment of being hunted down by your mother through the garden. Not to mention the judgment of your siblings the very next day at breakfast as you learned they had been told all of what had occurred the day prior.

You walked into the room with an appetite that disappeared as soon as you saw the amusement on your family’s faces and heard the hushed tones with which they spoke as you found your seat. Perhaps if they had been more straightforward, you could have endured it, but they all remained silent as they watched you take your pick of the food, portioning it onto your plate at your own pace. Only as you took your first bite did the first words erupt, nearly leading you to choke.

‘Your lunch with Harrington went well, I take it?’ Nicholas asked, much to his amusement.

‘What makes you say that?’ you asked, answering with your own question, with no intention of looking your family in the eye as you did.

‘Mother has just caught us up with the events of yesterday afternoon,’ your brother stated, his enthusiasm in stark contrast to your discomfort at the moment.

‘I cannot see how there was much to speak of.’ You tore off another piece of the toast with your teeth. ‘It was dreadful.’

‘Dreadful, you say,’ Christopher snickered, barging into the conversation, as unwelcome as the rest, ‘it is not the word I would use, given what we have heard.’

‘Please enlighten me, then, brother? What do you deem an appropriate summary given what I can only assume was mother’s thoroughly accurate recount of what happened?’ You could imagine that she had embellished aspects of the day to fit her narrative; one that most definitely would not suit your future objectives in any way. Truly, since when had the breakfast meal also become the time for your entire family to torture you? It seemed that any moment you all found yourselves in one place, it was deemed the designated time for inquiries regarding your prospects.

‘I had only told them that you seemed to have rather enjoyed yourself with Mr Harrington,' your mother said nonchalantly as if she had not just struck you with a verbal mallet over the head.

‘Mother!’ you said with a frozen-in-shock expression, but your mother only blinked slowly in bewilderment. You blinked slowly as well. ‘How could you?’

‘Is that an offence to say these days?’ She replied, chuckling, underestimating the damage she had caused with that simple phrase. You had rather enjoyed yourself with Mr Harrington. The string of simple words opened the floodgates that until then kept back the unwanted commentary of your siblings, in particular, the vaunting of Nicholas, who had pridefully acclaimed the matchmaking between you and Mr Harrington to himself and would not let anyone forget that for the rest of the meal or the hours, even days, after—

❀❀❀

But you were happy to put all this far behind you. No matter how keen your siblings or parents were to return to that day, you were not one to dwell in the past. You looked forward. More specifically, right ahead of you, where there seemed to be a clear exit route in the form of a pair of large oaken doors—like a gleaming, delicious yet forbidden fruit tormenting you from a distance. You shook the silly thought out of your mind, returning your attention to Christopher, who indulged himself in a puff pastry delicacy.

‘Can you blame me, brother, for acting out after having endured an entire day of the most monotonous, unspirited, and, dare I say, upright dull conversation a man has to offer?’ You watched Christopher pick up a glass of wine, quickly grabbing it out of his hands to consume the drink yourself, leaving him, in turn, in a slightly shocked state of confusion.

He blinked slowly and sighed. ‘You do not have to explain yourself to me, and I hope you do recognise that,’ he said as he watched you finish the last drops of his wine. ‘I am merely suggesting that if you know what is good for you, you will open yourself up to these opportunities, as by defying, you will only end up causing yourself more harm.’

Now it was your turn to heave out a heavy and tired breath. You put the glass down, perhaps a bit too harshly, as the thud against the table spurred on a few looks from the ladies around you, but you were too occupied with your brother’s words. He was right, of course, on both accounts. Of all your siblings, Christopher was most like yourself, never entirely understanding the need for marriage. Of course, as a male and a second-born son, he had no such obligation or needs to fulfil. It was perfectly well for him to remain a bachelor for as long as he pleased, not to mention pursue any interests he might have.

Meanwhile, all of these “opportunities” you had that he spoke of were in matters of either matchmaking or to enhance your appeal for such exact situations. Yes, you had a more than fortunate education. You spoke various languages, understood maths and geography, could play the pianoforte prettily, perform any dance in your sleep, and occupy yourself with perfectly fine needlework. But it was disheartening, as at the end of the day, all these accomplishments were meant as nothing more than to advertise yourself to men who could not care one bit for any of it as long as your face and body were adequate for their tastes.

But you also knew, through your assumptions and fair warnings from others, that if you were not to find a husband yourself, someone else would do so for you, and a last resort comes to be just that for apparent reasons but ones you would rather not familiarise yourself with.

‘Do not tell me I have managed actually to silence you and put a stop to your wit.’ Christopher chuckled.

‘You wish,’ you responded, possibly proving his point. Meanwhile, another song began to play as more couples took to the floor. Your eyes immediately examined the room for any threats of men reaching for your hand for a dance, particularly a certain Mr Bridgerton, who you read to have claimed a spot on your dance card.

‘Rules are rules,’ Christopher sang teasingly as he saw you check the card tied around your wrist. ‘You cannot deny a gentleman’s—’ but he never entirely managed to finish his sentence as he watched you tug at the ribbon connecting you to the list of men waiting for a dance. The material tightened, most likely leaving a nasty red line across your arm as you pulled and pulled until—snap—you broke free. The piece of paper fell to the floor.

‘Oh my!’ You covered your mouth in faux-wide-eyed perplexity as you kicked the discarded card behind a large potted plant, far into the forgotten shadows of the room. ‘How can I remember the gentlemen’s names whom I have promised a dance now?’

Against his better judgement, your brother cracked a smile, ‘I can tell you now, you will regret doing that.’

‘Somehow, I rather doubt that,’ you twirled your wrist, enjoying how freeing it felt not to be tied up any longer.

‘The second that mother finds you without that silly little thing around your hand, you will sing a different tune, sister.’ He finally took another glass of wine, cheering you on, ‘And do not come crying to me about it when that happens.’ The large chug he took was anything but galant. Still, it was his final act before he bid you farewell and left you at the confectionary table to fend for yourself. You had not expected the doubt to settle as quickly as it did, but perhaps the lack of a big brother-shaped guard dog by your side made you feel abnormally self-conscious. For a moment, you considered running after Christopher, but from what you could see through the crowd, he had quickly crossed the room and was already entertaining his friends—each of them a gentleman you were attempting to ignore.

Things only seemed to be taking a turn for the worse when you picked up a foreign accent which deafened all others around you.

Harrington.

You cursed to yourself, quickly turning around to face the tables. What on earth was this man doing here? The Parsnell family was ever the charitable one, but never in the matters of their parties. You could not imagine what would make them want to invite some foreign merchant’s son.

Well, the answer was simple. It was the same as any other question regarding Steve Harrington and his actions towards you. It must have been your eldest brother’s doing, of course. It was all Nicholas from the very beginning, and he would not let you forget it ever since that breakfast the day after you met with the American—-

❀❀❀

‘I knew it from the moment I met the good man; you would make a perfect pair.’ He said as he sat across from you in the drawing room, feet hanging over the couch’s armrest.

‘And how, pray tell, could you predict this exactly?’ You rolled your eyes. While most often, it was Nicholas who attempted to drown out your voice through the words on a page, it was your turn that day to try to ignore his rambling.

‘As much as you would like to think better of yourself,’ Nicholas leaned forward, more than happy to keep talking about the subject, mainly if it covered a topic that could humble you: ‘the truth is that you are as shallow as the rest of us, sister, not to mention as easy to read on the subject of these matters as everyone else.’

‘Even if I had such biases, I would not share them with you,’ you scoffed, flipping an unread page.

‘There was no need for that explicitly, I have conducted my research and come to the right conclusions, have I not?’ It was impossible to wipe the smug smile off his face; you knew that by now, and yet…

‘If you do not shut your mouth this instant, I swear, I will throw this book at you,’ you threatened, putting the book you had occupied yourself with over your head.

‘You are only this upset because you know I am right.’ Nicholas gloated, but you were happy to see him tense up in the shoulders as you began aiming the book in his direction. Not that you would actually throw it… just yet. A lady can do heinous things if pushed far enough, and you felt yourself standing on the edge.

‘I know that you are being completely maddening.’ You dropped the book in your lap. ‘And must be mad if you think I am in love with this man. He was a pleasant conversation partner, that is all. I assume mother has been deprived of social engagements for far too long, if she thinks me laughing at this man’s jests is enough for there to be an engagement already.’ Harrington’s jokes had been funny, you had to admit, but it must have been a joke from the powers above that sent the following footman into the room in that instance, announcing a gift had been left for you at the door.

Before you could say anything, Nicholas requested it to be brought into the room. From the irrepressible smirk on his face, he seemed to have an edge of knowledge on you on what was about to be presented through that door in the following moments.

And indeed, not much later, the man returned holding an oversized vase filled with flowers—a bouquet of colours combined into a lovely smell overpowering your senses.

You said nothing as you walked up to the table where the heavy gift was set, but your lips could not help but part in surprise. You noticed the paper sticking out from between the buds and gently pulled it out.

See these flowers as a token of my appreciation for thy hospitality and benignity.

Sincerest greetings,

S.H.

You groaned out, reading the words. ‘You are despicable, brother!’ Nicholas, who had been reading along with you from behind your shoulder, quickly stepped aside as you turned his way, ‘You set him up to do this.’ the accusation came out of your mouth like venom.

‘I did no such thing.’ But his smile remained easy to read. Although… was it a remnant of his earlier pride, or did he see the flowers as yet another gratification for his unbearable attitude?

‘But you did! It has your grimy hands written all over it.’ You flicked the paper in his face. How many times had you seen your brother write notes to the ladies he attempted to court or send out servants to pick flowers from the garden? ‘Did you scheme this whole thing out on the boat on your way home?’ You could already see it all so clearly. The two of them standing in a corner of the ship, your brother acting like a snake charmer, teaching Harrington everything for him to win you over. It all left a rather sour taste in your mouth.

‘I promise you, I had nothing to do with this.’ He glanced at the flowers, ‘but you must admit that the man has a great taste.’

‘Yes, I am sure his servant has great botanical knowledge. Do you think me to be so dense that I would expect the man to do this all by himself?’

‘You cannot make me believe you were not impressed for even a moment?’ Nicholas argued. You glared at him, eyes formed into narrow poisonous slits, but in the end, all you could emanate from your mouth was another angry groan. Feeling hopeless, you let your body guide you back to the chaise across the drawing room. The smell of the flowers seemed to linger on despite your effort to distance yourself.

‘So you are to say that you have no feelings for Harrington? What so ever?’ Nicholas trotted behind you, taking the seat next to you.

‘No more than I have for you at the moment,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Ah, so you do love him!’

‘Ugh,’ you exclaimed—

❀❀❀

Much as you did when you suddenly felt a presence behind you calling your name. To compose yourself in the crowd and avoid further embarrassment for anyone, you quickly turned back around to face the man approaching you. However, by doing so, your sudden movement caused a chain reaction in the glass you had just reached for, spilling all its content on your person.

‘Mr Harrington!’ You gasped. However, any possible enthusiasm you might have felt for the man’s presence was overtaken by the shock as your bodice soaked in the cold beverage, knowing that the material of your dress was gaining more damage with each passing second. Of course, a handful of people nearby stopped what they were doing to gawk at what surely must be a rather embarrassing moment between a young lady and a suitor she was attempting to seduce.

‘Miss Byrnwick,’ Harrington jumped into action, ‘let me find you a maid.’ Within another second, he had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to cry in shame at your brother’s side—your brother, Nicholas, who did not seem one ounce affected by your dramatics.

‘Have you no shame?’ he asked between tight lips, leaning in your direction to avoid the eager ears of the nearby audience.

‘Oh, brother, I have only begun.’ You smiled with a whisper before taking a step back, and another, until your back was met with the soft texture of the cake placed directly behind you. How ridiculous of you to have forgotten.

You cried out.

‘There there, sister,’ Nicholas failed to find a single sincere vocal cord from what it seemed. ‘Let us get you cleaned up.’ He reached for your arm, smiling at a hoard of ladies standing a few feet away, but you quickly pulled away.

‘Do not be ridiculous, my dress is in ruins!’ You did anything but shout. Anyone paying attention, and by this point, this had included the majority of the gathering, would be no fool to expect your eyes to be on the verge of tears as you attempted to cover yourself up to no avail. Why, after this fiasco, no one could blame you for making a swift departure out of the ballroom.

That is nearly nobody, for your mother caught you just as you were about to exit.

‘Dearest, what has happened to your dress?’ Her face showed an awkward smile filled with concern, but you knew that not that deep inside, she was raging with fury as she took in your state.

‘It was an accident, mama.’ You sniffed, wiping at your dry cheeks. ‘Now, will you excuse me? I would like to go home, please.’

In this instance, with more and more people collecting around you to look at and their whispered words making their rounds around the room faster than the country dance performed just moments ago, there was very little your mother could do. After a final look around the room in hopes of finding a suitable reason for you to stay, yet failing to do so, she had no choice but to let you go.

‘Let me at least find one of your brothers to escort you,’ your mother sighed in defeat.

‘I am perfectly capable of going home by myself, mother.’ You resumed taking steps toward the doors, their appeal practically pulling at your feet eagerly. ‘And besides, I will not be alone. I will have the carriage driver for company.’ This did not make your mother any more confident in the situation, but both your brothers also appeared to have vanished into thin air, and the gossip was only growing more potent the longer you stood there in your stained ensemble.

‘Alright then,’ Mother gave in, ‘just… be careful.’

‘Of course.’ You reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. ‘Thank you.’ With this farewell, you ran out of the room as politely as it was possible in good society. There had not been many occasions in which you had visited Lord Parsnell’s estate, so it took a moment before you found the main entrance.

‘Everything alright, miss?’ a footman standing by the door called out, clearly having noticed your distress.

‘Perfectly well,’ you caught your breath. I simply require my carriage.’ To this, the man nodded and disappeared into a corridor to call for your transport. The music seeped through the main hallway from across the other side of the large house. Mindlessly, you let your body move in sync with the violins. You took small but correct steps over the marble flooring until the man returned, announcing your carriage would be ready momentarily.

‘I shall wait outside,’ you explained, and just like that, the grand doors opened to reveal the late night. Crickets chirped across the fields nearby as the moon and stars illuminated the gravel at the entrance. With nobody around and the cool night air pleasing to your heated skin, you took a deep breath and let your legs give in.

‘Danced too hard, miss?’ a familiar voice called over the sound of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels rolling. ‘You look like you have just walked through a storm.’

‘Balls have that effect on a lady.’

‘They sure do,’ Eddie chuckled, for a reason unclear to you.

‘Did I say something funny?’

‘No, it’s nothing,’ he shook his head, changing the subject, ‘Will your family be long?’

‘They shall take the second carriage. I will be making my return alone.’ With your numbers, one carriage would have called for a relatively tight, possibly hazardous fit. So you and your brothers had taken the larger coach—steered by your family’s coachmen—whilst your parents drove in the smaller hansom that Mr Munson had kindly offered to operate for the other regular driver had coincidentally fallen ill.

Thus, now that you were returning alone, you had the smaller carriage all to yourself.

‘No chaperone?’ Eddie asked, somewhat apprehensively.

‘I have you, have I not?’ you said as you hiked up your dress to climb aboard. The footman that had so generously opened the coach door looked reasonably stunned as, instead, you took your seat next to Eddie in the driver’s seat. He looked at you with just as much surprise. ‘I’d like to enjoy the mid-night air, if that is alright with you,’ you explained.

‘You won’t hear me complain, miss,’ he smiled, pulling the reigns and setting the horses into motion. As you drove off, you dared to take a peak behind you. The footman remained confused in his place, trying to comprehend what exactly he had just witnessed and whether or not to call it a scandal or not. But, in your modest opinion, you could not find anything scandalous in a young lady who was seeking comfort from one of her family’s employees and one you had, above all, learned to trust a great deal in the last weeks.

As you know, you have always found comfort in the gardens surrounding your house, yet after your first meeting with Mr Munson, you found yourself seeking refuge on the grounds even more often than before. Especially as the arguments regarding your prospects grew more heated and the tensions between you and your family became more tiresome by the day. It became an almost daily routine for someone to shout out obscenities and slam a door in protest, and nearly every fight ended in you needing to catch a breath amongst the flora. And more often than not, you wandered around until you found yourself at the stables. But unlike in your childhood when it was the horses’ company you were looking for, it was now a person’s attention you were hoping to catch—

❀❀❀

You certainly had no intentions of returning to the stables the first time you did so. Initially, you had planned to visit the orangery, but the gardeners were currently occupying it, and in your need for solitude, it did not feel like the right place to be, which is why you surprised yourself as you called out into the empty aisle.

‘Hello?’

No response came. Nobody was around except the stallions and mares, who were comfortably munching away at their hay, unaware of anything happening outside the building.

You stood in front of the entrance, looking ahead of you, unsure of what to do next and still not entirely certain why you had come here in the first place. You listened to the soft, unbothered noises of the horses and fiddled with the fabric of your dress for a moment or two until the silence became unbearable. It could not have been longer than a minute that you stood there, but to you, it felt like an eternity, and with each passing second and no plan on what to do next, you only felt sillier and sillier. You had to leave here before someone caught you standing and waiting like a statue. And as you turned around, you slammed into the arms of the one person you had hoped would not catch you this way.

‘We must stop meeting this way,’ Eddie smiled, but the grin quickly disappeared as he caught a glimpse of your expression. ‘Everything alright, ma’am?’

‘Yes, of course,’ you wiped the folds in your dress nervously. Something about his gaze made it impossible for you to return it. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘You look as if you’d just seen a ghost.’

‘Well, you did just scare me half to death, Mr Munson.’ It was true. You felt your heart leap up into your throat as your bodies collided. ‘You are far too stealthy, you know.’

‘Apologies. I have learned to be quiet around the horses so as not to startle them—’

‘Which has the exact opposite effect on humans, does it not? ' you said, pushing the corners of your mouth into a smile.

‘It appears so, miss.’ He returned the gesture.

It took far too long for you to realise that, according to the general rules of conversation, you were expected to say something next; however, before you could remedy that misstep, Eddie spoke up once more.

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

‘Yes,’ you shook your head, ‘perfectly so. Is the weather not lovely?’ You looked up, just anywhere but at him, to see the cloudless sky. ‘I er— I thought of taking Barley Sugar out for a ride.’ Suddenly, your intentions of finding yourself in front of the stableman were perfectly clear.

‘Of course, ma’am. Which horse will your chaperone be taking?’ The question stumped you, which must have been clear to the man looking so intently at you, for he quickly asked: ‘You do have a chaperone, do you not?’

‘I do not. I am more than capable of riding the horse on my own, thank you. I have been doing so since I was 5 years old.’

Eddie hovered over his words briefly. ‘I did not intend to question your skills, ma’am; it is only that it had been made clear to me upon my employment that you are required to have someone accompany you when you leave the residence—for the horse’s safety, if anything.’ He quickly added, sensing that it might soften the blow of your horse-riding chastising.

‘I did not think you to be such a stickler for the rules, Mr Munson,’ you found yourself to tease the man. Where the nerve to do so came from, you did not know, but it looked to be appreciated. Eddie shook his head, possibly already regretting his following words.

‘May I at least ask where you will be headed then?’

‘I have not thought of that yet,’ you responded honestly. ‘I might just see where Barley takes me.’ At this, however, the stableman visibly winced. You raised a brow. ‘Is something the matter?’

Eddie shook his head in disappointment. ‘I only wish you had not said that, miss. I cannot, in good conscience, let Barley Sugar go out unprepared like that. The old thing could get lost or, even worse, hurt. To even think of such a thing happening—’ he looked away, reminding you of how the actors moved in the many plays you had visited at the theatre. ‘Well, it is simply too painful even to consider.’

‘I am sure Barley can manage such a venture… and she is certainly not old.’

‘Of course,’ he corrected, ‘But we must consider the risks and wouldn’t want anything to happen to Barley, now, would we?’ As he spoke, you made the grave mistake of finding his eyes and the stare he greeted you with, while warm, was intense and rather dizzying.

You cleared your throat, suppressing a smile, ‘Well, perhaps, if you insist, you should be the one to accompany me on this ride… for Barley’s sake.’

‘For Barley’s sake.’ He echoed your words softer, and just like that, any protocol that should have been considered was thrown out the window. As a newly acquired help, Eddie had no right to accompany you on outings as a chaperone, not without senior permission, at the least. And yet, it was not even ten minutes later that you were both seated on your horses— you upon Barley Sugar and Eddie on the back of a dark brown stallion named Marzipan—and briskly making your way out of the enclosed grounds of the estate.

Ever since, as if by a magnet, you felt yourself pulled towards that particular side of the garden at the sight of any inconvenience. You knew that there was not only an ear always eager to listen but a voice happy to speak to you freely and happily. And though most days, there would be the excuse of a horse or carriage ride for your visit, other times, you would plainly sit by as Eddie worked, chatting away for hours on end or however much time you had to offer.

‘Are you quite sure that it is alright for you to be here, miss?’ Eddie asked after a week’s worth of your visits. You watched him pick up a large sack of feed as if it weighed nothing at all and put it across the stable room. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing that however strainless the carrying of the weight might seem, he had certainly put his muscles to work.

‘I may not own this house directly,’ you answered, ‘but I am the lord’s daughter, and I am free to do as I please… to a certain extent.’ No one could tell you not to roam through the grounds or converse with the groom in your free time, but total freedom you had not.

‘Well, with risk or not,’ Eddie threw another sack on top of the previous, ‘I consider it a great honour to be the recipient of your company.’

‘I am surprised none of the gentlemen have attempted to use such a phrase to charm me.’ You could not help but roll your eyes. ‘And besides, Mr Munson, the honour is all mine. It is rare for me to find a person that finds me agreeable enough to talk to me at such length as you do.’ And one I find as agreeable too, you considered adding but decided against it.

That smile peeked out over his lips again as he walked up to you. ‘Well, I have hardly any choice, I mean, when you come here to my place of work, it’s not like I can just walk away.’

‘Oh, you,’ you pushed at him lightly. But with him having squatted down to meet you at eye level, the slight push was enough to topple him over onto the ground. And to think I wanted to ask you to escort me on another horse ride.’

‘In these clothes?’ Eddie looked at the both of you, him covered in mud and dust, and your dress was much the same. ‘What will people think?’

You got off your makeshift seat to help him back on his feet.

‘Then let us hope there will be no one to see us.’

❀❀❀

The carriage wobbled over the uneven ground as you distanced yourselves from the Parsnell estate, and the quiet of the night was filled with your retelling of the evening.

‘So I am to understand that this,’ Eddie cocked his head your way, referring to your dress, ‘was your own doing?’

‘I thought it quite ingenious,’ you shrugged.

‘And what of this Mr… Harrington? He must still be looking for you with that maid of his I imagine.’

‘No.’ But the image of a disappointed Mr Harrington walking through the room, a maid in tow, with you nowhere to be seen, did sting at your heart a little with guilt. ‘Do you really think he is still looking for me?’ A giggle burst through against your better judgment despite your attempts to suppress it with the hand you covered your mouth with. ‘I am quite cruel, aren’t I?’

‘Absolutely wicked,’ Eddie commented with a weirdly proud smile. As the road went on straight, he took his eyes off it from time to time to glance your way—just briefly and only a handful of times, but enough for you to notice. You could only hope he was not as observant towards your actions.

‘What is it?’ you asked after several more glances directed towards you as a sweet silence fell between you.

‘It is nothing,’ Eddie smiled it off.

‘Which means it is certainly something. Go on, enlighten me.’

He shook his head. ‘I suppose it is just that, from how you described the night, I do not see what must be so awful about it— you speak of delicious food, drinking and dancing. I don’t necessarily see a problem in this.’

‘Because that is not the problem. It is not the dancing, it is who I am to dance with.’ You sighed. ‘Night after night, it is an endless rotation of the same men I am as uninterested in as the very first day I met them. They corner me to ask me a million questions, each shallower than the last, only to then try and coax me into a dance where they will surely trample my feet.’

‘I see,’ Eddie nodded, but perhaps it was only the vibrations caused by the carriage’s movement that made him agree with your ramblings.

‘I apologise. I do not mean to talk of my problems constantly.’ Indeed, the man must have his own issues, and ones that most likely outweighed your marital prospects severely.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, miss. I am happy to listen,’ he said earnestly.

‘Very well,’ you contemplated your words for a moment until you quickly blurted out with curiosity, ‘but how was your evening?’

‘Mine?’ To your surprise, your question had caused Eddie to chuckle.

‘Yes. I assume you must have done something to fulfil the last hours. Or do carriage drivers freeze up when unattended, only to thaw at their master’s command?’

‘I would say that is partly true.’ He quickly looked your way with a smile before explaining himself. ‘For the most part, when on duty, you have to keep your mind on the job, so I cannot exactly indulge in things and have to be ready in case a lady’s dress is ruined and she is in dire need of her getaway carriage.’ Your eyes met briefly. ‘But that does not mean that I am to sit still in an empty room until you come to call, no.’

‘So? What is it that you do in the meantime?’

‘Card games, for the most part.’ He shrugged, not seeing your interest in the topic, too focused on the road ahead to notice how you eagerly looked at him, awaiting his following words.

You had to admit, until that night, you had never put much thought behind the private lives of those who waited on you. Yes, you understood that not all their day revolved around you or your family, but you also never considered it to be any of your business to follow theirs. You listened whenever your maid, Claire, told you stories about her family, storing the basic information of the names and so on in the back of your mind, but at the end of the day, these were nothing more than anecdotes amid polite conversation. Yet, with Eddie, you were eager to know everything about him. The longer you spoke, the more questions filled your mind, and the less adequate you felt to ask them. You were, after all, friendly, or so you hoped, but you knew there was a thick line in society when it came to friendships such as this one, and you were not sure where that line would be crossed and if to be scared of what would happen once it happened. But now and then, curiosity got the better of you, and you managed to trickle in a question for Eddie to open up to you.

‘What er– kind of card games?’ You nudged on in your questioning.

‘The regular kind, the ones nobody mentions by name, but everyone simply knows the rules of.’

‘I do not think I am familiar with any of such kind,’ you admitted. In the meantime, the carriage drew to a slow halt at the crossing of two roads. ‘You take the left here,’ you told Eddie, who looked at you in surprise.

‘I cannot say my navigational skills are perfect,’ you said, ‘but I pay attention, and I remember going past the large boulder on our way to the party. There.’ You pointed towards the rock some meters away from the crossing in the left direction.

‘You are quite observant, I’ll give you that.’ He brought the horses back to action, and the rattling of hooves and wheels on the uneven ground resumed. As you passed the large boulder once more, Eddie then resumed your conversation. ‘You do not play any card games, then?’

‘I will admit, I prefer chess, but I do often play Cribbage with my siblings—or Brag. My brother Nicholas is also very fond of Piquet, and as I am the only one in the house that can stand his unsportsmanlike antics, he often forces me to play it with him.’

‘Very well,’ Eddie listened, then asked, ‘Do you know Trischaken?’

‘Pardon?’ you barely understood what he had said.

‘Trischaken. It’s a Prussian card game, or perhaps Austrian; you’ll have to excuse my awful memory for geography.’ At this, you both laughed politely,

‘No, I do not think I have heard of it.’

‘Oh, it’s great, I must teach how to play one day.’ Only once his enthusiasm unfogged his mind a second later did Eddie pull back the excitement of his invitation to a polite suggestion, ‘If that is something that would interest you… ma’am.’

‘I would like that very much.’ You smiled, showing a bigger and more authentic smile than you had the entirety of the passing night. And barely did that smile fade for the remaining hours as you drove back home and listened to Eddie talk, trying to explain the rules of the intricate foreign game or tell you about his life outside of work.

‘I did not take you for a music fanatic.’ You admitted as you approached the vicinity of Ridlington Park, its gates already glowing from the lights around it in the near distance.

‘It must be a very sour sort of man that does not enjoy music. Are there really such types?’

‘And he is more common than you’d imagine, I am afraid, and it seems to be the type that my parents see me to marry one day.’

‘I am beginning to understand your problem,’ Eddie said, ‘but yes, music has always had a special place in my heart. My father had taught me how to play when I was a young boy and since then, it’s always brought me a great comfort. It was actually one of the very few things I brought with me from America.’

‘Is it hard? being so far away from your family?’ You asked softly, unable to imagine how you would feel if you were to leave everything and everyone you had ever known to work in some foreign land on the opposite side of the world.

‘There are many things that I am still growing accustomed to, but I cherish the change.’

‘That is a very diplomatic mindset. I for one could not bear a day without the possibility of seeing my family, I think, no matter how meddlesome they are.’

Eddie’s eyes shimmered with kindness for your words. ‘I suppose I have grown used to it. I have been travelling for years now and have not seen my family for an even longer time, so it is actually the lack of independence and presence of…. this closeness of others that I am attempting to grow used to now.’

‘Ah.’ You blinked, not having expected that kind of response. Immediately, as the door of Eddie’s past unlocked, even if just for a moment, a mountain of questions spilt inside you, but you pushed those urges back. ‘I see. Well, if you ever require solitude and wish me to leave you alone, please be not afraid to just tell me so. I shall respect your wishes.’ Had you been too eager to sit beside him for the entirety of the ride, talking his ear off? Or all those other days when you bothered him at work. Oh, the embarrassment. If it was not for the fact that you were already coming through the Ridlington Park gates, you would have jumped off the carriage and walked the rest of the way home.

‘No, I did not mean it like that.’ Eddie quickly recovered his words. ‘Please, do not think I do not greatly appreciate and enjoy our conversations. They— they have been the highlight of my days.’

‘Really?’ Your proud smile was too strong to keep at bay.

‘Yes, really.’ Eddie’s words pushed out a breathy laugh. ‘I see it as a welcome escape from the work.’

‘So do I,’ you noticed the wrong fit of your phrasing, ‘I mean, I enjoy our conversations as well.’ Would it be too much to call them an escape from reality? To him, perhaps. The entire night had already been a far breach of that line of what is proper or not for a lady to do. You knew you were awaiting a scolding the second your mother returned from the Parsnell ball. Now, the territory your and Eddie’s exchange was heading into felt anxiously foreign, somewhere you realised you had never gone to with any of your friends or acquaintances. Your heart picked up its pace as the carriage slowed down for the final time that night, arriving at its destination.

Before you could do or say anything, Eddie had jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran across the back of the hansom to assist your exit. He extended his hand for you to take, and the moment your fingertips met, you knew it had been a mistake. Your hold tightened around his hand as you took the steps onto the ground, and though you found your footing perfectly well, you did not find the power to let go of Eddie.

And neither did he of you.

The two of you stood in front of each other, eyes locked into a deep gaze, only broken by his glances to the point where you were connected. Your hand was in his and burning like a fire between you; for the brief seconds as they pulled you closer together, your fingertips felt like the centre of the entire universe.

A fire that surely would burn and scar if you were to touch it.

It was dangerous. You knew it.

But what was life without a bit of risk?

‘My apologies,’ Eddie cleared his throat, taking a step back, letting your hand fall through the cold air.

‘There is no need for that.’ You shook your head out of all thoughts, or at least attempted to do so. ‘It is I who should apologise. If you will excuse me, I must change into something less… cakey. Good night, Mr Munson.’ You looked down at your dress, which was still, very much, covered in remnants of wine and cake. You were to leave, but Eddie quickly called to you, almost as if the words were faster than his mouth.

‘How many times must I ask you just to call me Eddie?’ His eyes were those of a pleading man, pleading for something you did not quite comprehend, but at the same time, you knew the consequences of giving in to his request.

You looked back at the windows of Ridlington Park. The building was enveloped in darkness, as no one was there to occupy the rooms or to see you. All you could do was remind yourself that there was nothing wrong with you being alone with a carriage driver or any other member of staff, but it certainly did not feel that way. There was undoubtedly something dangerous going on in that instance.

You took a deep breath as he held it in. The line you were scared to cross was getting thinner, and you grasped for something to hold onto as you felt your feet slip away.

‘Good night, Eddie.’

And just like that, with only the hope there was no one around to see it, you both fell.

To be continued...

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message. And don't forget to join the taglist if you want to be kept up to date on the chapters [yes, I promise, more will be coming]

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #fanfiction #fanfic #regeny au #bridgerton au

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 2 months ago

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Hi! It's been about a year since I've read any Klaine fic so I'm hoping y'all can recommend some of your favorite fics from this past year or any that you're currently reading. I hope y'all have had a great holiday season. Thanks!

There's about 260 entries for finished works for Klaine on A03 for 2024!, if you want to look at the full list.

I'll give you a list of some I've read and enjoyed. (One fic per author!). I haven't included the fics from the Christmas events.

Swords and sands by @exquisitetragicthing

Ancient Rome AU, 73 years BC.

Blaine and Kurt are enslaved in the same grand villa in Capua, 125 miles south of Rome. Blaine is a renowned gladiator known for his unmatched skill in the arena. Kurt is their master’s treasured body slave and performer. In a time where their love could be as dangerous as the sword, they find themselves instantly and irrevocably drawn to each other.

~~~~~

Twelve Strikes And You're Perfect by @sarkyblueeyes

Kurt has been in a friendly ten-pin bowling rivalry with his dad for 7 years, but his winning streak hits a snag when a gorgeous employee starts working at the bowling alley. Blaine has an ass that could roll a strike every time, and a terrible habit of bending over at inconvenient times. As well-meaning but hapless acquaintances conspire to push them together, will Kurt finally pluck up the courage to ask out his summer crush?

~~~~~

Leaps and dives by @annepi-blog

As the 2024 Paris Olympics unfold, gymnast Blaine Anderson and diver Kurt Hummel find themselves navigating more than just their athletic dreams. Blaine, focused on his second chance at Olympic glory, crosses paths with Kurt, a newcomer to the world of professional diving with extraordinary talent. What begins as a chance encounter blossoms into something neither of them expected.

~~~~~

fire island follies @bitbybitwrites

From a Tumblr Friday Ficlet prompt from bowtiesandboatshoes : "We're going to Fire Island. It's like gay Disney World."

Title is from an actual burlesque/cabaret show: The Fire Island Follies

~~~~~

Took a sugar cookie from his heart by wavingthroughawindow @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

Anon Prompt: what about single dads!klaine whose first "date" happens when they schedule a playdate for their two preschool aged kids?? just something cute and fluffy at one of their homes or a park or something?

Kurt Hummel's daughter has a playdate with Blaine Anderson's son and Things blooms unexpectedly between the single dads.

~~~~~

Seven by @scatter-the-stars

How far would you go for someone you love? For Kurt, that means doing the unimaginable. But if it means saving his dad, he's willing to take that risk. A risk that has him leaving his home to go states away to spend a week with the last person he ever expected to meet. Over the course of the next seven days, things don't go as planned, or thought.

Can seven days change everything?

~~~~~~

Undiscovered by @heartsmadeofbooks

All Blaine Anderson needs is a little help to put himself through school. That’s all. But he’s going to get so much more than he hoped for when he meets Kurt Hummel, the successful, sexy workaholic who in turn needs someone to make the loneliness disappear. ~~~~~

Annotations of the heart by @gleefulpoppet

Amid a period of healing solitude, Blaine crosses paths with Kurt, an inquisitive journalist. What begins as a casual conversation over an annotated book in a café becomes a blazing fire between their hearts. As the layers of their connection deepen, they learn to navigate the complexities of love, loss, and identity, unraveling a poignant tale that transcends the unexpected boundaries of their pasts.

~~~~

Unexpected By @kurtsascot

Blaine’s infatuated with his TA from last semester.

He also spills hot coffee on him.

~~~~~~

Tumblr ask box prompts by @cryscendo

Kisses - various one shots - mostly Klaine!

~~~~~

The cute guy from the bar By @caramelcoffeeaddict Coffeeaddict80

A few days after moving to New York, Kurt decided to explore the city but ended up getting lost. He doesn't know anyone else in the city, so when he sees the name "Cute Guy From The Bar" in his phone, Kurt calls him for help. Luckily, Blaine is more than willing to be Kurt's personal tour guide around New York.

Enjoy! Jen

#klaine fanfiction #fic finder #2024 fics #various authors #round up

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libraryofgage · 1 year ago

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Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Part Three

Part One | Part Two

I got side-lined by the Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins fic for a hot minute (that big boi is at, like, 73k; he hefty), but here's the next part!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

In the port city of Socotra, past the first big plaza and down a few side streets, is a small two-story shop with a sign that reads "C. C. Elixirs and Solutions." The shop is owned by a very nice young witch named Chrissy Cunningham who, currently, is doing her absolute best to not laugh in Eddie's face as he spins his tale of accidentally entering into courtship with a merman.

"Anyway," Eddie says, pacing in front of the counter with his hands splayed and his hair a mess, "I was wondering if you'd have anything that could help me."

Chrissy covers her mouth, swallowing down the bursts of laughter threatening to bubble up her throat. After a moment, she asks, "With what, exactly?"

Eddie turns to look at her, gesturing to the shop as a whole. "C’mon, Chrissy, you gotta have something here for me, right? Like, I don't know, a fucking manual or whatever."

"Of course I don't have a...," Chrissy trails off, frowning slightly as she looks at the storeroom door behind her. She's getting a very familiar feeling. It settles at the top of her spine like a shiver that's just waiting and waiting to happen but never does. Usually, this means something.

"Give me a second," she says, barely hearing Eddie's agreement before she heads into the back.

Her storeroom is a chaotic mess that only makes sense to Chrissy. Precarious stacks of books are randomly scattered across the floor, some of them holding plants or knickknacks on top. A few tables are filled with potion ingredients, magical artifacts that still need cataloging, half-filled notebooks, and dozens of pens. A few bookcases line the walls, and Chrissy wanders over to one of them.

She scans the spines, passing over books about fae marriage customs, common selkie family traditions, and in-depth essays analyzing Phoenix mating dances. Finally, her gaze lands on a thin, unassuming book. Its cover is made of sea-foam green leather, with waves etched into the spine instead of words. When Chrissy pulls it off the shelf, the front cover is blank. She doesn't remember getting this book, but this can happen in magic shops. Sometimes items just appear where they know they'll be needed.

Chrissy flips the book open, landing on the front page and grinning at the dedication that reads, "To all the hapless fools in love with a sea dragon's descendant. Here's to hoping you don't royally fuck it up."

Yeah, that's perfect.

She heads back to the front of the shop, immediately noticing that Eddie has placed trinkets and rocks on the counter. She recognizes a few of her protection charms (made of genuine silver, she'd like to add), some quartz of varying colors, and a ring set with a prismatic shard. Chrissy stares at the items before looking up at Eddie with a raised eyebrow.

"Stevie would love all of these," Eddie says, shrugging with absolutely no remorse or shame as he drops a coin purse onto the counter.

Chrissy sighs and digs a few coins out, ensuring they're all gold and all real by biting them before nodding. "You know, land-based magical items don't actually work on merfolk," she says, pushing the purse back to Eddie as she places the book on the counter as well. "So those protection charms and that prismatic ring won't do anything for him."

"Yeah, but they're pretty. He'll like them," Eddie insists. He then notices the book, and his eyes light up hopefully. "Did you find something?"

"Yep, seems to be exactly what you need," she says, sliding it closer to him and watching as he opens it to a random page.

"A common practice among merfolk is to collect trinkets during their pod's travels. Some trinkets won't be personally interesting to the merperson, but can be later used as courting gifts if they're relevant to the intended mate's interests or likes," Eddie reads, tilting his head slightly with a genuine interest that Chrissy usually only sees when he discusses new songs he's learned during his travels.

"Consider that one on the house. But I expect to meet this merman once you've finished your honeymoon phase," Chrissy says, pulling out a small velvet bag and placing the other items inside.

She gives it to Eddie, smiling once more when he nods, digs into his pockets, and drops another small pouch onto the counter. "Almost forgot. Here's some of that 500 year old ginseng you mentioned before," he says.

Chrissy blinks, staring at the pouch. Before she can say anything (like, for example, demanding to know how Eddie got his hands on so much of such a rare ingredient that only the most qualified of practitioners can even dream about seeing), Eddie has gathered his things and practically run out of the shop with a hurried goodbye thrown over his shoulder.

Excerpt from "The Lovelorn Fool's Guide to Merfolk Courtship"

The most important thing to know about courting merfolk is the levels of courtship, of which there are three. In order, they are:

Gift-giving: merfolk collect various trinkets throughout their life, including items they personally do not find interesting. Upon finding a potential mate, they will go through their collection and gift items they think the potential mate will like. To learn more about trinket collection, refer to Part II.

Harmonizing: unsurprisingly, singing is important to merfolk. In addition to being an enjoyable pastime, singing is another mode of communication. The ability to harmonize with a potential mate is vital, as it proves the two are well-matched. To learn more about song types, refer to Part III.

Pod Introduction: the final stage of merfolk courtship, pod introduction is the most important. Pods are sacred, and introducing a potential mate to the pod is an incredible show of trust and commitment. To learn more about pods and their structure, refer to Part IV.

Of these levels, gift-giving often takes the longest. Some merfolk give hundreds of gifts before moving to harmonizing, and others give one. Be patient and try to return each gift you receive.

While these are the levels of courtship, the actual establishment of mateship (consider this the merfolk equivalent of marriage, only it's far more permanent), involves the gifting of scales.

You can find more on this in Part V.

----

Steve stares longingly at the small window in Eddie's cabin, tracking the clouds and lingering on birds that soar by. He knows he can't be on the deck when they've docked, but scales, he's bored.

Are his guppies bored, too? Do they still play games, or are they too worried about Steve to sweep through the waters? Has Robin lost a few scales from exhaustion and stress? How quickly after hugging him is she going to kill him for being away for so long?

With a sigh, Steve drags his eyes away from the window and looks at his tail. Kelp is still wrapped around the wound, but he knows it's almost healed. He can flick his fins without hurting, and the wound has mostly scabbed over, fresh scales beginning to creep over the cut. Maybe a few more nights, and Steve will be ready to jump back into the ocean and find his pod and guppies again.

But that would mean leaving Eddie behind, and...Steve really doesn't want to do that. Because Eddie is the closest Steve has ever actually come to finding a potential mate.

He starts to sink into the water to submerge his head beneath the surface so his disgruntled and stressed air bubbles can rise from his gills. Before he can fully slide under the surface, though, Steve hears the familiar sound of Eddie's excited, hurried footsteps.

Steve perks up, gripping the edge of the tub as Eddie slams into the door, cursing at the pain as he opens it and stumbles inside. He looks at Steve immediately, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide and a grin tugging at his lips to reveal dimples. He's carrying a small pouch in one hand and a book with a sea-foam green cover in the other.

"Stevie!" he says, kicking the door closed and walking over to the tub, "I got you stuff."

With that, Eddie crouches in front of the tub and holds the pouch out to Steve. He doesn't seem to notice how Steve's gills flutter, air pushing out in an excited, flustered pattern that would have made Robin tease him. Eddie doesn't know that, though, so Steve tries to ignore his gills and takes the pouch.

He opens it carefully, his gaze immediately caught on a ring set with a rainbow-colored stone. Steve's eyes widen, his mind swirling around the pretty color and how well it matches his tail and how it looks to be the perfect size and how it would still glitter even when Steve is deeper than the sun can reach.

He pulls the ring out, turning it over a few times before sliding it onto his left ring finger. He was right; it fits perfectly. It has a strange but ultimately harmless magic attached to it. Steve grins brightly, a small, barely noticeable hum bubbling from his throat as he looks back into the bag.

He pulls out each rock, studies them intently, and approves of their color and shimmer. With a nod, Steve places them carefully in the tub, clustering them on the left side of his tail, the side further from the door, for protection.

Finally, Steve pulls out a few of the protection charms. They're small and made of a material Steve immediately recognizes as something that tarnishes in water. He really likes them, though, and it would be a shame to not use them for something.

"Eddie," he says, looking up to see Eddie staring at him, his excited smile turning dopey.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" he asks, leaning forward and resting his arms on the tub.

Steve leans forward, taking a lock of Eddie's hair and studying it carefully. After a few seconds, he decides it's good enough. "Turn around?" he asks, his gills fluttering again when Eddie does so without question. After taking a second to calm himself, Steve asks, "Can I do your hair?"

Eddie hums, leaning his neck on the rim of the tub, giving Steve full access to his hair, the ends of which are dipping into the water. "Of course, Stevie. Whatcha wanna do?" he asks.

"It's a surprise," Steve tells him, moving some until he's partially sitting on his tail so he can properly face Eddie's hair. He places the pouch on the edge of the tub, letting it precariously balance, before running his fingers through Eddie's hair.

He's done this enough times for Max to know how to fix tangles without pulling. As he works, Steve relaxes, falling into a familiar rhythm, and starts to hum softly. It's a lullaby, one that he doesn't get to sing the guppies to sleep with anymore, but they tolerate it when he's caring for wounds or helping them scrub their tails or braiding their hair.

Steve divides Eddie's hair into sections and starts braiding. Every other inch, Steve takes one of the charms from the pouch and braids it into Eddie's hair. By the time he's done, the braid is decorated with silver charms, standing out nicely against Eddie's brown hair.

"Okay," he says, using a thin piece of kelp to tie off the braid, "It looks good."

Eddie hums, reaching back and carefully running his fingers over the braid. Steve watches, suppressing the urge to grab Eddie's hand. "Did you not like them?" Eddie asks, dropping his hand and turning around. The charms clink against each other, creating a quiet song that makes Steve's heart light and happy.

"I liked them," Steve says, pushing the pouch on the edge of the tub into Eddie's lap. "They tarnish in water, though. And their magic felt too strange. They look better on you."

"So, you gave me a gift?" Eddie asks, his smile hopeful and his eyes bright. Steve can't help returning the smile with a nod. In response, Eddie leans forward even further, like he's acting on impulse more than anything else, and presses his lips to Steve's cheek.

Steve's eyes widen, his gills burst, and his ear fins flare in response. To the untrained (human) eye, his reaction is similar to a cat puffing and bristling when faced with a threat. To the trained eye (Robin. And other merfolk, but mostly Robin), Steve's reaction is entirely common for especially flustered merfolk.

It's never happened to Steve before, and that just makes him feel more flustered. He doesn't want Eddie to see his flared fins, so he does the first thing he thinks of; Steve pushes forward and wraps his arms around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him tightly so he can't pull away. "Thanks," he mumbles, "for the gifts, I mean."

He hears Eddie laugh and feels Eddie's hands slide across his side and to his back to return the hug. "Of course, Stevie," Eddie replies, his breath warm against Steve's gills and sending a subtle shiver down Steve's spine. "I'm glad you like them."

Steve is gone. He can't imagine being away from Eddie. He can already see Eddie and the guppies meeting, and he can see Robin fucking with Eddie just to see how he reacts. Steve can see Eddie in the water with him, grinning as his hair floats around them. Steve can see Eddie and him lying together on a beach, warm on the sand and basking in the sun.

Most of all, Steve can imagine giving Eddie a necklace or bracelet of his scales. Maybe that should scare or worry him, but all Steve can feel is excited and warm, and he's more than happy to bask in that feeling for a while.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

#steddie #steddie fic #high seas steddie #merman steve harrington #pirate eddie munson #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #chrissy cunningham #platonic hellcheer #in the first half tho but maybe more to come? kinda winging it ngl

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hyodyton · 2 months ago

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i like reading Sydney Carton as a queer character, and seeing his sacrifice in a similarly one-sided way

I read A Tale of Two Cities quite a while ago, and I can't say I have any particular feelings about it. But i like the individual elements, plots and characters. (And I don't have a very heartfelt affinity for France) Was reminded of this book today, and after a while I remember it more fondly than when I first finished reading it

Quite a curious work on the topic I've just raised, I can't say I agree with everything, but there are many interesting and deep thoughts https://w.ncgsjournal.com/issue82/krueger.html

It was also logical and nice to mention my favourite Holly Furneaux - Queer Dickens: Erotics, Families, Masculinities

#my art #fanart #sydney carton #charles darnay #a tale of two cities #one side sydney x charles yes

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marsborne · 2 months ago

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Do they know where do unicorns go? - Pinocchio x Reader

After a long day, P just wants to spend time with his favorite person, and what better activity is there than reading? - warnings: subtle spoilers (?) for The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle - word count: 1.5k

Another day drifts into twilight in the fallen city of Krat. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows as you search for something—anything, to occupy yourself while waiting for a certain puppet, so dear to you, to return in one piece.

You retreat to your room, the temporary haven you’ve claimed in the grand hotel, and decide to clear your head with some organizing. The shelves catch your eye, cluttered with a collection of books. Classics, biology texts, histories, sciences, and your favorite, fairy tales.

Time slips by unnoticed as you work through the rows of well loved volumes, their spines familiar to your touch. Then, as you rearrange a particularly crowded shelf, you find a book hidden at the back, forgotten and face down. Its cover stirs something deep in your memory, and you reach for it, your breath catching as recognition blooms.

But before you can delve further, the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps fills the hall outside. There’s only one person who walks like that.

Your heart leaps as you hear a knock at the door, a rhythm you both agreed upon, a little code to ensure it’s only the two of you. These shared moments, these quiet sanctuaries of connection, mean the world to you both.

"Come in," you call, your voice just loud enough. You know he can hear.

The door opens with care, and there he is. Pinocchio. His blue eyes find you immediately, and you greet him with a soft smile. He mirrors it, stepping inside and closing the door behind him with that quiet grace he carries.

"Well, hello there," you say, your tone light, almost teasing, a grin playing on your lips. "Has this day been treating you well?"

Pinocchio isn’t a boy of many words, not since arriving at the hotel. Yet, out of everyone here, he speaks to you the most. Not to Sophia, not to Antonia, not even to Venigni—or his father. You. Always you. And his voice, when he does speak, is a gentle thing, soft and steady, like a balm to a weary soul.

He smiles at your greeting, nodding as he crosses the room to you. You settle into the loveseat near the window, gazing out at the sprawling ruins of Krat beyond. He joins you without hesitation, sitting close but never crowding you. It’s clear he’s worn out—another long day of fighting puppets and whatever else this cursed city throws at him. But here, beside you, he can be at ease. He can simply be.

"How have you been today?" he asks, his tone as gentle as ever.

You tell him about your day, the restless antics of Spring, your conversations with Antonia, who treasures your company more than she ever says aloud. But as you speak, you notice him glancing at your lap, his gaze flickering there before darting away, quick and subtle.

You know him too well to miss it.

In your hands is the book you’d rediscovered—a treasured piece of your childhood, The Last Unicorn.

"I’ve been organizing shelves, doing some cleaning," you explain, brushing your fingers over the cover's familiar design. "I just happened to stumble upon this. It’s my favorite book. I thought I’d lost it when I was packing."

His curiosity sparks at your words, lighting up his expression. He’s always eager to learn more about you, to uncover the little details that make you who you are. It was you who introduced him to books and stories not long after you first met. You were the one who read to him, who showed him the magic of words.

The first story you shared with him was a tale the whole of Krat knows well—a story of a mischievous wooden puppet. And in that moment, his love for stories was born. Since then, he’s read voraciously, bringing back books from the outside to share with you. He’s learned of mythical creatures. Vampires, phoenixes, fauns, and, of course, unicorns.

"Could you read it to me?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turn to meet his gaze, his blue eyes shining with quiet hope, his dark hair framing his freckled face.

You chuckle, looking down at the book. "Of course. You know I’d read anything to you."

You mean it, but a flicker of hesitation creeps into your tone. You don’t want him to feel obligated, as if he has to share in your loves simply because they’re yours. "Though… didn’t you start reading that one book the other day? You seemed really interested in it. I wouldn’t want to burden you with something so silly—"

Before you can finish, his human hand finds yours, cool to the touch yet grounding. He lifts it to his lips, brushing a feather light kiss against your knuckles before pressing your hand to his cheek.

"You, out of all people, could never burden me," he murmurs, his voice steady and sure. "You’ve always been here for me. Nothing brings me more joy than listening to your voice, hearing you speak about the things you love. So, please."

You’re stunned. He’s always had a way of disarming you, of cutting straight through your defenses with those earnest blue eyes of his. Your ears burn as you cough lightly, trying to gather yourself.

"Well, if you insist," you reply, a soft smile curving your lips.

That’s all he needs. In a heartbeat, he’s curled up beside you, his arms draped carefully around you as if you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever held. His head rests where it always does—half on your chest, half in the crook of your neck, his ear tilted just enough to catch the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You open the book, your voice carrying the first words of a story he already knows he’ll love, simply because it’s yours.

"The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night…"

The evening stretches on, and soon the night wraps around the hotel like a soft, comforting blanket. Your voice fills the quiet, weaving through the room with every word you read. The only other sound is the gentle ticking of Pinocchio’s springs and gears, steady and rhythmic, grounding the two of you in this serene moment.

His eyes never leave the book in your hands, following the story with rapt attention. He looks so content, so at peace, as if nothing else in the world matters but this. But eventually, as all good things do, your reading session comes to an end. When you close the book softly, his quiet devastation is clear in the way his shoulders slump ever so slightly.

The promise of picking up the story tomorrow, after lunch, brightens his expression just enough to make you smile. It’s a rare day—Geppetto hasn’t called him away, hasn’t sent him out into the city, and you’re grateful for the uninterrupted time together.

When the next evening comes, you’ve finally reached the end of the book. For you, the story feels like an old friend, bringing with it waves of nostalgia. For him, it’s something new, something meaningful, and you can see it written all over his face as you read the final line.

As you gently close the book, Pinocchio lifts his head from where it had rested on your shoulder, his gaze fixed on the cover.

"So?" you ask with a curious smile. "What do you think?"

He pauses, clearly searching for the right words. His expression is thoughtful, his eyes soft as he processes his emotions. Finally, he speaks.

"I'm happy she got what she wanted," he says quietly, "though she, in a way, reminds me of you."

That catches you off guard. Your brows lift in curiosity as you turn to face him fully. "Me? How so?"

"She never gave up on what she wanted," he begins, his tone steady but warm. "Just like you never gave up on showing me all the beautiful things in this world, however small they might be. Or how you never gave up on me…in general."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, overwhelming in their sincerity. This boy—this puppet, who was becoming so much more—had no idea the effect he had on you. For a moment, you simply stare at him, your heart full, processing the depth of his affection in his own quiet, earnest way.

Without thinking, you lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. When you pull back, there’s a soft, loving smile on your lips.

"Well, well, pal. Since when did you become so cheesy, huh?"

The sudden voice of Gemini cuts through the tender moment. You glance over, realizing the cricket had been there the whole time, forgotten on Pinocchio's belt.

Pinocchio stiffens, his peaceful moment shattered. It’s clear he’s contemplating how far he could throw Gemini out the window, though you know he never actually would. Annoying as Gemini can be, he’s still Pinocchio’s closest friend and maybe, on rare occasions, his voice of reason.

You cover your mouth, trying to stifle a laugh, though the mirth in your eyes betrays you.

Pinocchio isn’t complaining, his mind is entirely consumed by a single thought, as if the words are etched before him.

Your heart is pounding.

It's 2am but I had to get this done idc idc

I rewatched the last unicorn yesterday and ohmygodohmygod

Yes I know this book was released in 1968 but shhhh

I don't know where I was going with this but I actually like how it turned out

#lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p x reader #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #x reader #reblog #lies of p game #oneshot #the last unicorn #lies of p headcanon #headcanon #p x reader #lop #i love him #fluff #lies of p fanfic #fanfic

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yoonia · 7 months ago

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the bedroom hymns ● chapter xx

⟶ Chapter summary | Once the gate of secrets about your mother has been opened, it seems that magic is slowly guiding you to follow the traces your mother’s left behind in this realm. As if her shadows still remain, and you are now tasked to find every piece of her still left behind.

Author's note | I never expected that the break I took between this chapter and the last would go so long. I'm so sorry for the long wait. I hope the longer chapter makes up for the lack of update

chapter xx. traces

The scent of the forest hangs heavily in the air—the remnants of rain, the rich fragrance of earth, and the slightly humid, yet strongly pine-scented breeze.

As you walk between the trees, a thick white mist rises from the ground around you, making it somewhat hard to look at what you are stepping on or where you are going. This place is dark, even if there are still some streaks of light visibly falling from the sky. But those lights don’t seem strong enough to pierce through the thick foliage, nor can they penetrate through the dense fog moving together with you. Not enough to illuminate your surroundings so you can see better. Only enough to show you the unmoving shadows that are present around you and helping to stop you from crashing into trees or stumbling against a boulder hiding beneath the undergrowth.

Still, the darkness cannot stop you from searching through the woods to find out where you are.

You hadn’t exactly expected to be in the depths of a forest like this when you first stepped through the magic door. Perhaps you should have expected that your secret exploit would be a peculiar one tonight, given the circumstances leading you here.

The silver door that you had chosen for this evening’s adventure was completely different from the ones you went through before, after all.

Hidden at the end of the hallway where the treasure rooms are located, the door looked more like a sculpted wall ornament, sunk deeply into the stone walls with nothing more but a small alcove marking its existence and floral embellishments carved on its surface. You may have walked past it many times before, yet never once had you ever paid much attention to it, thinking that it was merely a decorated wall to grace the treasure rooms’ hall.

It wasn’t until early this evening that things ended differently—when you walked past the hall after leaving the library much later than usual. You were carrying with you the book which had caught your interest while spending your free time reading in the library—the Encyclopaedia of Ancient Monsters and Magic Beasts—barely even thinking of anything other than to quickly bring it back to your bedchamber so you could continue reading through the pages. You had every intention to later compare everything you learned from that book with the texts written in the ancient spell book you acquired during your trip to the Mage City of Aeris. What better way to do so than to be in your private quarters, lest to have your tutors questioning your new book had they saw it in the library.

You had your arms wrapped around the book when you turned the corner where the magic door was hidden, clutching it against your chest while picturing the images you saw from it. You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost believed you were imagining things when the plain embellishments on the wall suddenly began shimmering.

As if the carvings on the wall were reacting to your presence.

Perhaps something else had caused it? Something that had been in your possession for the first time as you travelled down that hall this time, maybe?

You cannot help but wonder as you reach down, gently tapping the sling bag hanging to your side where the book is now being kept secure. Thinking about it now, you remember that the glimmer of light coming from the carvings had not been all that had drawn you toward the hidden door.

While you were still struggling to make sense of what was happening, your necklace was also beginning to show a reaction. It felt subtle at first, yet the warmth pressing on your skin from the back of your ruby amulet was hard to ignore. It reminded you of how your necklace showed some peculiar reactions during your last trip, when it seemed to respond to the magic found in Aeris.

As you came to a halt, the warmth coming from the gemstone started growing stronger. Your eyes flew to the alcove as the magic essence of the portal began to emerge, revealing to you that the sculpted embellishments had been something more than just a wall ornament.

The whisperings of the magic came to you next, enchanting you to come closer, compelling you to reach into your pocket and pull out the silver key. At first, you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to do. Looking at the carved wall in front of you, there was no possible guide telling you how you were going to use your magic key on a piece of carved ornament.

But then the carvings on the wall began to change form. The plain grey shades painted on the carvings slowly turned into silver plates right before your eyes. The linings beneath the alcove shifted into what appeared to be a doorframe, and then a keyhole emerged between the carvings of a pair of wings on the side which you have never noticed before.

A baffled laughter climbed up your throat as you watched in disbelief. “A door? This was a door this whole time?” you wondered loudly as the silver door took its final form right at the center of the dark wall.

You could barely process what was happening even as the scene was unfolding right before your eyes. The door seemed to have enchanted you with its charm, drawing you closer towards it as the silver carvings magically glimmered brightly like the moonlight.

Reaching deep into your pocket, you keep your eyes on the door as you pull out the magic key. Your heartbeat skipped a beat as you carefully inserted the key and turned until a resounding click echoed through the empty hall. There was no handle emerging from the door, yet it opened on its own, bringing in a strong cold breeze that felt nothing like anything you ever had encountered before as it slowly widened right in front of you.

Another peculiarity happened as the magic portal was activated. As you pushed the door wider, the usual sight of the dark blue void wasn’t what appeared in the opened doorway. Instead, you saw the sight of a dark forest, as if it had been hidden right on the other side of the wall instead of across the realm—wherever your new destination might be.

To be able to see the new world that you were about to step into was a new experience. You wondered if you should be wary about stepping in. But this was unlike your previous excursions, where you had to go blindly into the portal without having any clue where you were going to end up next. What laid before you seemed like a challenge, and at the same time, a promise.

A promise of a new and exciting adventure that you would regret never getting into. A new world to learn.

So you gathered yourself together, not even bothering to think about how you were going to miss supper by stepping out of the castle so late. After quickly grabbing your coat and a sling bag to carry your magic books along with you, you stepped through the door and began your journey across the realm.

So far, everything about this new adventure of yours has been out of the ordinary, just as much as how it began.

As if the events leading you to open the portal hadn’t been peculiar enough, the magic portal had sent you emerging at the center of a dark forest. The portal, which had appeared as a part of an alcove which was built into a wall, opened up on what seemed to be the mouth of a small cave once you got to the other side of it.

“Magic is a very peculiar thing,” was the only thing you could say as you looked back at the portal which had manifested between the alcove forming the cavern’s entrance. Unlike the other portals, you were able to see the dark hallway that you had just stepped out of. Only you were made to feel as if you were looking at it through a tinted-blue glass as the void manifested around the opening like a protective shield.

It still baffles you even now to think about it, as you are trudging through the thick woods, continuing your journey without even knowing if you are going in the right direction.

Only fates know how long it has been since you came to this place. With nothing but the night sky above and trees in a myriad of shapes and sizes surrounding you, it is hard to tell how much time has passed.

The white mist keeps growing thicker as you keep going, covering the ground beneath. You can barely see your own legs as every step you take going forward seems to be engulfed in the peculiar mist as you get deeper into the forest. This has been going on for a while, and you are beginning to wonder if you will ever find a way to get out of these thickets.

At least you have reached the part of the forest where the trees are no longer as dense as before. Yet, despite being no longer close-packed together, their sizes seem to grow significantly larger that they still fill the forest with their presence. Their thick boughs spread wider here to make up for the thinning foliage above, leaving nothing more but fractured streaks of moonlight streaming down from the night sky. Still, it barely helps you see your way through, as the white mist continues to gather thickly around your legs and is slowly climbing higher, as high as your elbows.

The forest is also quiet.

The sound of gravel, fallen branches, and dry leaves crunching beneath your boots becomes your only company. Thick bushes and tall wildflowers growing as far up to your waist are spread between the thick trees. One too many times, the tips of your boots would get tangled in them, if not coming in contact with sharp rocks that are hidden under the mist.

While none of these obstacles would be enough to tip you over, they are still enough to make you grow more cautious. To be wary of where you are stepping your foot next.

The shadows around you are still, adding the eeriness which makes you feel as if you are being swallowed by the darkness around you. The temperature is slightly colder than the darkest hallways of Stargrave. Colder than the damp alleyways of the slum area back in Smotia.

But the air also feels like a comforting embrace here that you barely feel the urge to tighten your cloak to protect yourself. How odd, indeed, you wonder to yourself as you continue to walk deeper into the forest while feeling like you are walking in a dream.

A dream that is more peculiar than the one that you have been getting lately.

Even the trees growing around you appear like parts of an eerie dream as you look closer. The trunks are thick and massive, twisted and bent in sinister shapes and appear as if they are decaying as they grow in various shades of grey. The same thing appears on the sweeping branches that seem to grow out of those giant trunks like twisted hands reaching into the darkness.

Yet those limbs don’t appear bare. Not all of them. Some of the thicker ones are full of leaves, growing in dark teal that appear almost black, yet are glowing like jewels under the night sky. The ones that are bare without leaves almost look like giant fingers, pointing out through the darkness as if they are trying to reach out to you as you walk underneath them.

Below, the undergrowth begins to grow denser. With more bushes and rough hedges thickly covering the ground, high grass reaching almost to your knees and small tree buds popping from between the giant ones. The flower beds grow more scarce around here that the forest now appears to your eyes in monochrome colours of grey and deep teal.

A rustling sound coming from somewhere nearby catches your attention—sounding almost like a clear snap against the silence that has befriended you—and you come to a sudden halt. The sudden shift of movements brings your sling bag swinging forward, knocking against the back of your calves. The weight of the books inside the bag adds an extra punch as it swings along your body, while the weight of your cloak tries to drag you sideways with it when it falls around you.

“Ouch,” you hiss at the sudden impact while adjusting your sling bag and straightening up before gravity has the chance to bring you down.

The rustling sound continues, causing you to grow more alert this time. Spinning, you search for the sound. Scanning through the trees around you isn’t helping much, however. The foliage is still too dense, the space around you is still too dark, and it is making it hard for you to determine where the sound is coming from. So you wait, all while doing your best to grasp the change in the air and force yourself to listen to any other noises that may follow.

A gust of wind bursting through the foliage makes you realise that the sounds may not be coming from anywhere around you. Nowhere close, for sure, as you see no movement in the dark even when the wind breezes across once more.

It’s coming from above.

The thought soon registers in your mind just as a blip of darkness steals away the barely-there moonlight penetrating through the thick foliage from above. You look up, drawn by your curiosity when another rustle of leaves, followed by a burst of cold breeze, lures your attention to the night sky.

And that is when you see it as it happens right before your eyes.

Beyond the top of the trees reaching so far up high to the night sky, something massive passes above you. Flapping its giant wings with leisure, it glides across the starry sky, covering the ground below with its shadow before it disappears from sight as it continues its journey.

It isn’t until another passes by with the same motion, and then another, drifting in the air so gracefully that it almost feels like you are still dreaming when you begin to understand what you are seeing.

Dragons.

A wave of cold shivers runs through your body. Before you realise what you are doing, you are already moving. Your legs are unsteady, yet they still carry you forward, even if your steps may be a little too haste. Navigating through the thick woods will surely be a hassle, particularly in this unfamiliar darkness and while you are trying to catch up with the movements of the dragons flying above.

But you refuse to give up.

You refuse to let go of any chance to get a better look at these magnificent beasts that you had only seen pictures of in the books you have read—more significantly, in the book that you are carrying now inside your bag—and you wish to see more of the place where these giant beasts truly exist.

With one hand clutching tightly on the sling of your bag and the other wrapped firmly around the handle of the golden dagger that you keep hanging on your hip, you march forward, following the cold trail of wind left behind by the flying dragons.

You keep your gaze forward, with only short glances to the sky above to look as a few more dragons come flying by. Some are much smaller than the ones you saw before, a few more that look to be average in size, and then the last and largest one glides across the sky, shaking the trees around you with each flap of its giant wings.

So you begin to run.

Racing through the twisted and bent trees, you try to keep up with those dragons before you lose sight of them The snapping sounds of your rapid footsteps crossing through the undergrowth coming in your way follow you, yet they are barely noticeable when the air is filled with the sounds of their flights—the flaps of their wings, the gentle swish of their tails, and their staggering roars and high-pitched calls as they get further away from the woods.

You ignore the slight pain you feel as bare, low-hanging branches reach out to you like bony fingers—snagging your cloak and hair, snapping and nicking at your skin. Yet not once do you falter, not even allowing yourself to slow down when running out of breath. And you continue to run until you finally reach the end of the woods.

The trees open up to a spread of high grass which ends with a wall of low boulders merely several feet away, right where the levelled land ends before it drops into what appears to be a ravine.

You look up, following the movements of the last dragons as they glide above the wide length of the chasm, heading towards the tall mountain on the other end. Right atop that mountain, you see the sight of an old castle appearing in the darkness, its walls rising in dark stones that glimmer under the stars and the moonlight shining from above. Built to look like it serves as the crown of the mountain, the castle seems to blend into the rocky cliff below.

Much like the Stargrave Castle.

The only difference is that your new home doesn’t have giant dragons of all sizes, shapes, and colours flying around it in a circular motion as if they are worshipping it. As if they are protecting their home.

Gaping at the astonishing sight before you, your breath is caught. You can hear the sound of your heartbeat getting louder as you watch the last dragon you followed joining the others circling the castle on the rocky mountain. The sounds of their calls echo through the night. Like a birdsong.

Speechless, you can only admire this sight in silence with goosebumps rising on your skin. You simply cannot believe it.

You know exactly where you are.

E'l Alora.

The dragons’ lair.

The place that you had just learned and read about from the book that is now weighing down your sling bag—the Encyclopaedia of Ancient Monsters and Magic Beasts. The book which tells you about the monsters of the night that you are now seeing right before your eyes.

This place is real, you muse, finding yourself moving forward before realising it as if you are drawn by the sight of dragons—real dragons—flying so elegantly in the dark sky.

You stop by the boulders, and a cold shiver rushes through your body as you get a closer look at the ravine before you. The widespread of chasm that looks like a dark void, separating you from the mountain and its glimmering black castle standing on its crown.

But as you lean forward to take a good look down below, you are caught by surprise at what you find hidden down there. Instead of seeing a massive fall of rocky walls ending into an abyss, you can see that there is life. Life other than the dragons.

A civilization growing on the walls.

Houses and buildings are built into the rocky mountain wall, levelling from the highest part of the wall to the lowest section down below, with long-winding streets and ramps connecting one to the other. A shadow of a bridge appears in the darkest part of the ravine, crossing between the town on the wall to the foot of the cliff far beneath the dragons’ castle.

And just like how the rocky mountain across the ravine is now lively with those giant dragons floating in the sky, the town below you is wide awake. There are lights everywhere, illuminating the town as they are set alight from the buildings and homes, and there are streetlights standing on the edge of the road, allowing you to see everything from up high.

You can see the people from the town moving in and out of those buildings, strolling up and down the streets, with carriages and carts led by massive horses driving on the streets like what you see in any regular towns. And they all seem to be going about their evening as if it is just any normal night.

As if having giant dragons flying in the sky is a normal occurrence to have in their everyday lives.

Drawn by your curiosity, you follow the path from the top of the hill which you are stranded in that leads you towards the bustling town below. With the hood of your cloak pulled up neatly back in place, your hands clutching the sling of your bag and your dagger sheathed nicely against your hip, you ready yourself to continue your adventure.

To get a closer look at this odd town, to meet the residents you see finishing their nightly activities, and hopefully, learn more about how they are able to live peacefully alongside the magnificent beasts gathering close by, with nothing more but the deep chasm separating them from one another.

The human town of E’l Alora was already a breathtaking sight to look at from the top of the cliff. But nothing beats being at the center of it where you can have a closer look at everything.

Houses, apartments, shops, and other buildings built with dark-coloured stones reflecting the moonlight seem to be blending into the rocky walls. They appear as if they manifested from the cliff walls on the side of the ravine instead of being built against it. Some buildings are several stories high, with open staircases and balconies made up of muted grey-coloured stones, allowing the darker facade of the building to stand out more. Some houses are built low enough that they seem to sink into the rocky walls, with rocks carved in slates to form structures and roofs framing each house.

The stone-covered road looks sturdy, smoothed nicely to follow each dent and curve of the ravine walls as it connects each house and building. As you walk down the road and finally get a good look at it from up close, you notice that some of the stones seem to sparkle and glitter, as if there are broken pieces of diamonds or gemstones implanted into the stones.

Being in the town means you are not only getting the first look at the townspeople—most of whom are still doing their routines and working even as the night is growing late and the sky darker—but you are also getting a closer look at the flying dragons above. You can even feel the hard whoosh coming down between the draft of wind each time a dragon flaps its giant wing.

It amazes you to see that while you are marvelling at this new experience with wonder, the townspeople you come across seem to be more nonchalant about the presence of these giant beasts. Even when the dragons are so close, flying right above their town, sometimes gliding lower than the others as if to have a closer look at the town and their neighbours.

Strange how they can simply carry on with their evening, with only a small few of them who would occasionally glance up with fond smiles on their faces as they watch the dragons gliding closer.

To say that you are completely stunned to be able to witness this seems like an understatement. A glorious shudder runs through you when you realise how privileged you are to be experiencing something like this.

Something that you would have never come across had you not been gifted the chance through your father’s magic.

Sighing deeply, you lean back in your seat, your eyes never wandering away from the open window beside you as you continue to look out and enjoy the scenery. You had continued walking until you reached the town square before you finally stumbled into this place; a three-story building divided into three different functions—a small tavern on the ground level, rented rooms on the second floor, and a private apartment on the top floor.

You have found the tavern as the perfect place to find shelter, while earning you the front seat of what is currently unfolding in this town. This part of the town is built on a section of the wall which extends toward the center of the ravine, getting you a bit closer to the foot of the mountain where the castle is built.

Staring out at the dark castle standing atop the mountain, with your book about dragons lying on your lap, your mind wanders to the one person you cannot help but wish to accompany you right now.

You wonder what it would have been like if only Yoongi had been here, sitting in this dimly lit room together with you, his sharp eyes watching every movement coming from the dragons. You wonder what kind of stories he would be sharing with you, or what type of jokes he would be throwing at you had he seen you looking flabbergasted the first time you arrived in this place.

It is really hard not to think about Yoongi at times like this, although you cannot say that you understand the reason why. It’s not like you have known him for your entire life and so deeply that he would be the first to come to your mind while you are travelling across realms.

Yet he haunts your mind in every second that you breathe. Always coming into your thoughts either when you are feeling lonely or when you find yourself lost in a strange place.

The way Yoongi constantly preoccupies your mind makes you believe that you are seeing his shadows everywhere you look. Never missing the trails left behind to show you that he may have stepped foot in the places that you are visiting.

It happened to you back in Aeris, when you saw the crest of The Brotherhood of Jorn stamped in various places you came across—on the bulletin boards, on the streetlight poles, and some on the walls of the back alleys. You have been seeing the same thing here ever since you first entered the human town of E’l Alora, when you caught sight of the same crest stamped and painted on the gates and announcement boards that the townspeople use to put up the local news, even on the walls of a few of the establishments that you walked pass by while heading to this place.

Even here, right in this tavern, you can see the same crest marked on the wall across the room, where a long table is set as if it was prepared specifically to hold a group meeting.

“We leave our crests in places where we often use as our rendezvous spots. Places for us to recoup, gather information, find work, or have a little downtime between our expeditions. The crest is a mark of our trail, showing our gratitude for the people who welcome us, and the people that we owe our strength to. It also lets them know that they can rely on the brotherhood whenever they need us.”

Yoongi shared this when you talked about seeing his crest everywhere you went. You can almost picture it now in your head, the mercenaries wearing various armours and disguises gathering on that same table, Yoongi amongst them, boasting about their journeys while sharing drinks and hot meals as they gather at that long table.

As always, thinking of Yoongi makes you smile. Even better when you imagine listening to him speak. You love how deeply he often speaks about the things that he brings up in your conversations, even when he is discussing something as benign as the weather. Often with a smug smile on his face when he talks about all the things you have no knowledge of.

You wonder what he would say if you had the chance to share the things that you have been learning for the past week—how much you have advanced in controlling your energy and mana and making use of it in exchange for your locked magic. You wonder how he would react if you share with him what you have recently learned from Lord Gordan—about the true nature of your skills that you may have inherited from your mother.

Would he somehow recognise the skill, or maybe he would be able to reveal who you are based on this peculiar skill alone?

Knowing how knowledgeable he is about magic and everything else related to this realm, you wouldn’t be too surprised if he ever learned about your mother. There is a sense of unease when you think about it, however, to think of the possibility that he may know more about your mother and your heritage than you do.

Thinking of Yoongi takes you back to the day before, when you came to the city of Aeris. Your findings of the Mage City and its spectacular perks seem to be pushed to the sidelines whenever the cloaked figure you saw that day comes to mind.

Looking back, you wonder if your desire to see Yoongi again has grown so strong that it is taking over your sanity. You were quite sure that the figure had spent a brief moment standing right outside of the magic shop. His presence a lurking shadow in the bright city, watching your movements while you were in the shop.

Chasing him was an instinct that you couldn’t resist to follow. Drawn entirely by your curiosity, and perhaps the dire need to see if it had been the one you desired to see the most, only to be led into a futile chase through the city.

Regret still follows you to this day, only because losing his trail in the bustling city square had left you with no answer. Nothing to stop you from wondering why that figure had felt so familiar to your eyes.

At least your trip hadn’t ended with you coming home from the Mage City completely empty-handed.

The shopkeeper of l'Équinoxe had been kind enough to wait for your return. She asked no questions when you came back to the shop, simply welcoming you back with a smile before helping you purchase the spell book which she had gone to fetch for you. The same spell book which had later taken away a few hours you had late in the night as you spent it reading the pages.

Cold breeze flows through the open window, pulling your wandering mind back to present. It pushes against the void that has been growing in your chest from Yoongi’s absence, causing your entire body to tremble.

As you reach out to grab your discarded cloak to find some semblance of warmth, a large cup of hot steaming drink manifests in front of your eyes. It lands with a soft thud when placed on the table before you. The scent of fresh herbs mixed with spice and rum fills your senses, warming your chest before you even have a taste.

“Here you go. This should help warm you up. It’s a specialty of ours in this town,” says the tavern keeper as he stands to the side of your table.

Lord Merryl—as he introduced himself to you earlier when he first approached you to offer you shelter—is a tall and built man who is only slightly taller than Lord Gordan, with greying hair that grows as long as his shoulders and a thin dark beard dusted in grey covering his sharp jaw.

Thinking about how you met previously warms your cheeks. You must have seemed like a lost puppy when you walked past the tavern earlier, your eyes wandering around as you tried to take everything in while figuring out where to go. When Lord Merryl first came to you and invited you into his establishment, he did so in the most gentle way that one would do to offer a safe shelter for a stray getting lost in a strange town.

Looking back at it now, you realise that he wasn’t the only one who had given you a friendly welcome.

When you first walked into the town, you had expected that the magic inside your necklace would take effect, shielding you from others. Yet, aside from the soft hum still following you through the vibrating ruby amulet, nothing else happened. Bereft of the usual warmth of its protective spell, it simply clung onto you with its lightweight pressing on your skin.

It didn’t seem to matter, however, when instead of gaining accusing stares and cold shoulders from the townspeople that you met, you only received warm smiles and kind greetings. There were even some who came up to you, giving you directions and showing you where to go, until you finally reached the town square where Lord Merryl found you.

It makes you smile just thinking about it. To realise how good it feels not to be invisible.

Murmuring your gratitude, you pick up the cup and take a dainty sip. A voluntary hum slips out of you as the warmth spreads through your body, instantly calming your senses and washing away your weariness. “This is lovely.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lord Merryl’s lips rise to a smile of pride. “I meant it when I said I would have the perfect ale to soothe your mind.”

You cannot help but laugh as you recall him saying those words when he first came to you earlier. “Yes,” you nod, “I suppose you’ve only proven your words to be true.”

Releasing a deep sigh, you embrace the warmth now coursing through your body. Turning back to look out the window, you can feel your body relaxing as you continue taking in the view and doing some more people—and dragon—watching.

The town indeed feels lively with the townspeople walking up and down the street, some lingering in the town square to enjoy their downtime while others are still working in their shops and the open establishments that are visible from where you are sitting. The sounds of their muted chatters and faint laughter fill the night as they greet each other upon passing by. You can see small groups of people sharing friendly conversations on the side of the street, and there is a faint sound of musical strings echoing from somewhere down the road.

Street musicians, you wonder with a smile. A town really couldn’t go without one present.

At one glance, this place does seem like any other town you’ve been to. And it would’ve been that way if not for the fact that there are dozens or more dragons flying above their heads right now, their high trills and calls echoing through the ravine, causing your chest to tremble along with the noises they are making.

“Quite a remarkable view to see, isn’t it? Sometimes one can forget how uncommon our lives are because we’ve gotten so used to this, until we remember that not all in this realm can experience living in a place like our home,” Lord Merryl muses as he notices how you keep following the dragons’ movements with your gaze.

You simply cannot help it, after all. Unable to look away from the mythical beings that you have always believed to be a part of a myth, or Ancient creatures that should no longer exist in this more modern time.

And they are quite a sight to look at.

Most of the dragons have stopped circling around the dark castle a while ago, leaving only a couple of the larger ones flying up there as if keeping a close watch of their territory. You can see the shadows of the ones who are now perched on the towers and the rise of the wall around the castle from afar, while you see some of the smaller ones now flying close to the human town, floating in and out of the ravine, allowing you to have a clearer view whenever they glide right over the town square.

You are beginning to understand the reason why Lord Merryl had given you the seat by the window when you first came in. The place in his establishment which allows you to have the perfect view of the town and its special perks. He must have noticed how mesmerised you were with the sight of the dragons, unable to resist glancing back up at them while you were walking down the street, making you look vulnerable, lost, and—quite understandably—disoriented.

“I’ve learned quite a bit about E’l Alora and its dragons, yet the book that I’ve read so far had insinuated that this place was a sacred land which only existed in Ancient times. So please excuse my disbelief and ignorance which you may have seen for yourself when I first arrived here,” you share with him while pasting a smile, leaving out the fact that you have only been reading the book today.

It wouldn’t matter if you had spent all afternoon studying all the facts and myths about this place from your book, getting lost in the tales and the history of dragons. You had only stopped when the untranslated texts at the end pages caught your eyes, leading you to carry the book out of the library to study them more despite having been forbidden to do so.

What little information written in the textbook about this place hadn’t been enough to prepare you for what you have found so far. Which means that there are bound to be more secrets about this place waiting to be unveiled.

“It was already a pleasant surprise to find that this place exists, much less to find out that even the dragons still live here, right where their home castle still stands. Still so marvellous and grand.” Your body shivers, feeling the excitement building up as you think about what other things you may find simply by being here.

“But what’s more surprising for me to find is that there are mortals living here, in a town that looks like it had manifested from the mountain, and that there is a peaceful life shared here between the mortals and these magnificent dragons.”

There is a pride smile on the tavern keeper’s face when you look at him again. “This is the life that we’ve all known for centuries,” Lord Merryl claims as he takes the seat at the table, right across from you. “The dragons protect us, and we protect the dragons.”

Eyes widening, you straighten up in your seat, intrigued to hear more. Seeing firsthand the way the townspeople and dragons together has already shown you how special and different E’l Alora is compared to many other places you have been to. But to hear about how directly connected they truly are as they share the same land to live in is quite an intriguing fact for you to learn.

“Most of the people who live in this town are miners and artisans, but there are also knights and fighters—” He stops and looks over his shoulder as a small dragon floats by. You can see through the window the people who stop on the street to wave. At first glance, you think for a moment that they are waving at the midnight-coloured dragon who seems to be making a show as it circles back and makes another pass, until you see a shadow riding on its back, just as Lord Merryl gently adds, “—and riders.”

You take a double look at the dragon as it shoots back up, flying higher up the mountain, carrying the rider—wearing all black from head to toe—along with it. “You—ride those dragons?” you ask with a soft gasp, which has the Lord chuckling softly.

“Only the chosen ones do,” he says with a grin. “Every mortal living in this town, men and women, train their whole lives to ride and fight alongside the dragons to protect this land. When they officially come of age, those who are trained will be tested, and those who pass the test will be bonded with the dragon so they can become the dragons’ riders.”

“Tested? By whom?”

Lord Merryl’s eyes crease a little on each corner when he smiles. “The dragons themselves, of course. They choose their riders.”

“H-how? How do the dragons choose their partners?”

“The Dragon King and his court rule the land to this day, and they set up the rules which made bonding between a human and dragon possible to happen. The Dragon King rules from his home castle. Together with his court, he leads the ceremony where a rider is chosen by inviting the chosen ones to the King’s castle,” he explains with a slight nod towards the castle above.

Tilting your head, you try to picture a whole court testing out the chosen townspeople to find the right person to ride a certain dragon. Throwing a quick glance at the dark castle above, you are beginning to understand why the dragons seem to consider the property as their home.

“When a dragon requires a rider, whether it is because the dragon itself has come to age or if their previous rider has passed their time—be it from old age or if they have passed on—the King’s court will summon a few selected candidates for a new rider and have them tested, both physically and mentally, in front of the court and the dragon that is to become their partner.”

Leaning back, you can feel your jaw setting into a hard line, something that you have to do to keep your mouth from gaping in awe. “Sounds like a rigorous process. And you said that the riders have many years of training?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lord Merryl nods again. “You are correct. Becoming a rider of the dragons is an important task for us. It gives us a purpose in life and a privilege to care for our land.”

You cannot help but smile, because it does sound like a privilege to bond with these Ancient beings. To be trusted enough to work alongside them.

“And what happens when one isn’t chosen? Or does that not happen, since you said everyone had to be prepared for it?”

“The rest of us run the town,” he says, nodding out the window where you can see the people lounging around the small patch of garden at the center of the town square. You only notice now upon closer observation that each person wears proper attire showing their roles in this town—shopkeepers, waitresses, and a few people who look like physicians and scholars.

“Sometimes, we even get work in the castle to serve the Dragon King as he is very, very old,” he says with his grin deepening when he takes in your reaction, “or they can serve the Ancient Gods and the Moon as the priests and priestesses, even though not many of us pray at the temples nowadays.”

“What about you? Are you also a rider?”

“I used to,” he answers with a gentle voice. The pride you see in his eyes seems genuine. Only this time, there is a hint of longing in them. A reminiscence of the past that he misses the most. “I was for a long time, and then I retired once I was too old to be up there in the sky, and Alastair, my dragon, chose my oldest son to replace me.”

Unable to hide your astonishment, you let your smile grow as you picture him up there, flying with his dragon. “Does that happen a lot—to have someone who is your kin to replace your position?”

“Only with the ones who are deeply bonded with their riders, and I’ve become bonded with Alastair after riding with him for a long time. I was only eighteen when I was chosen, so it felt like I grew into adulthood with him by my side.” He briefly looks out the window with a faraway look in his eyes, as if he is looking into the past that has been engraved in his memory.

“But it didn’t mean that my son had it easy,” he continues with a chuckle. “He still had to go through the same tests to earn Alastair’s trust. Alastair is quite an old dragon himself. Winning his trust was a hard feat and my son had to prove his worth in front of the court until Alastair was pleased enough to bond with him.”

Just then, two dragons glide across the ravine. One has scales in the shade of purplish-black and the other dark tan. The latter looks slightly smaller than the other. Neither has a rider on them, yet the bigger one has something similar to a horse saddle attached on its back, almost blending into their scales.

Another question sparks through your mind as your curiosity grows. “But where do you ride these dragons to?”

“The knights will journey with the dragons to patrol around the mountains, keeping this place and its castle safe from harm. Some will go flying across the nearby lands that are still under E’l Alora’s territory in search of resources, while others fly with them down there,” Lord Merryl replies, tilting his head towards the ravine.

Your brows immediately rise. “What—down into the ravine?”

Lord Merryl seems to enjoy seeing your expression when you are left in shock and he chuckles deeply. “Inside that dark ravine are mines—lots of them. Most of the ones who are chosen to ride the dragons are miners, while some others become knights who serve to protect our land and its people,” he explains.

”The dragons who work alongside the miners will fly us down there and lend us their powers to open up the mines, dig through the rough terrains, fly our workers into the deep to gain the resources found deep within the mountains, and then bring our quarries back to the surface.”

While your mouth drops open, he continues, “These mines were discovered many centuries ago by our ancestors—mages and elves who built their homes here in the mountains. The same ancestors who first built a deep connection with the dragons. They taught us how to maintain the mines without ruining the mountains and communicate with the dragons so we can nurture this land and the mountains together for both our gains.”

“Mines?” You try to picture it in your mind, an elaborate mining system hidden in the depth of the chasm. Something which your book has failed to mention. “And what do you gain from these mines?

Lord Merryl leans forward onto the table just then, waving out the window as an open carriage passes by down the street. Its driver, sitting on the front bunk with his hands on the horse’s rein waves back. His gloves are tainted in black—a similar shade to the pile of minerals filling the back of the carriage to the brim.

“Minerals, like iron ores and other metals that are then made into weapons and armours. Stones to build our homes and the streets we have here in town. And various kinds of gemstones.” He settles back in his seat, his gaze falling onto the ruby amulet hanging from your neck. “Just like the one you are wearing now.”

Startled, your hand comes up to your necklace. The ruby amulet hasn’t been giving you any obvious reaction since you got into town, yet it seems to shimmer under the soft lights illuminating the tavern.

“These mines are the reason why this town exists. It shapes the lives of the people here. Those not chosen as riders will also work to develop the quarries we gain from the mines and make a business out of selling the raw materials and the goods that come out of them. We have blacksmiths working on the iron and metals, builders processing the stones, and artisans working on the gemstones. We often trade goods with other cities, so that might be where you had gotten your stone from.”

Your mind travels back to Aeris, remembering how you have found different kinds of goods which were made of materials that you have never seen before. Weapons and armouries made of irons that are unbreakable and highly resistant to flame and magic attacks. Leather goods which appeared almost as if they were made of materials similar to the skin of the flying dragons. Amulets made with gemstones and metals that the shopkeepers claimed to have been ‘acquired from esteemed sources’ which would be able to be imbued with any kind of magic and spells.

Running the tips of your fingers across your necklace, your mind travels back to the shopkeeper of l'Équinoxe, reminding you of what she said to you about the necklace.

“Seems like your necklace was crafted many years ago, and the ruby is a specific kind of gemstone that is rarely found nowadays in modern cities like ours.”

Clearing your throat, you cannot help but ask, “How old do these dragons get, if I may ask?”

“They live a very long age. The Dragon King has lived almost as old as the Ancient beings you read in your books. Alastair was born around the same time my great-great-grandfather came to this world,” he fondly speaks about his former partner. “There are older dragons that are still around, and young ones—as young as my youngest. More dragons are still being born in the present day, even though they are born a few years or decades in between.”

It would have been hard to imagine if you hadn’t seen them with your own eyes—the different sizes that the dragons appear in seem to determine their ages, which are also so clearly discernible from the lines and ridges of the skin and the sizes of their horns.

“That’s truly remarkable.”

Your gaze meets with one of the locals who is walking past by the window looking in. Wearing a thin, dark-coloured chest armour marks him as one of the knights that Lord Merryl had mentioned. He greets you with a short nod which you return with a smile.

“You said that you haven’t gotten a lot of visitors lately. Don’t travellers often come by here?” you ask Lord Merryl, even if deep down, you can already guess what his answer would be.

It would have been hard for a place like E’l Alora to be kept secret, forgotten, except for the stories and myths that have been written in the books. Not when they are still producing matters and goods that are spread within this realm. “What happens when you need to trade your goods? Your products? How do you provide for the people?”

Lord Merryl grows silent, but it appears that your question had amused him dearly, judging from the glint you see in your eyes. “I’ve had a feeling that you aren’t just any regular traveller,” he surmises with a smile. “You seem to know more about what it takes to manage your people.”

This is quite unexpected. It’s not often that you are made to feel like you are being stripped down, of being forced to reveal the truth behind your disguise as an anonymous traveller. The only times you ever felt this way were during those moments you came face to face with Yoongi, when he seemed to be able to look through your facade. For him to look deep enough that you felt seen.

“Sometimes one can learn so much through the experiences and the people they encounter in their journey,” you find yourself answering.

Which isn’t a complete lie. Throughout the weeks you spent exploring new places through the portals, you have learned much more than what you are taught under your tutors’ guidance.

“That is the reason why I travel to different places in the first place,” you continue to admit, both to yourself and your kind host, “You can say that I’ve been going to places in search of knowledge. Anything that I can bring home and make use to guide me through life.”

“Speaking like a true intellectual.” Lord Merryl lets out a deep chuckle. “You have earned my most respect, young, mysterious scholar.”

Having no idea what to say to that, you simply laugh it off.

“It has been long since outsiders come to visit us. For leisure, that is,” Lord Merryl continues after a beat of silence passes. “A long, long time ago, this used to be a prosperous land. E’l Alora was highly regarded not only as the dragons’ lair, but a small kingdom ruled by the Dragon King, notorious for his powers, magic, and old wisdom left behind by the Ancient beings who created the realm. His knowledge, together with the treasures hidden in the mountains, were all parts of the legacy left behind by our ancestors.”

“What happened?”

Lord Merryl lets out a sigh. “Have you learned about the war?”

Your back stiffens as your mind works hard to file through everything you have learned so far.

It wouldn’t be wrong for you to assume that he is talking about a war happening in this fairy-tale realm, a topic that you are still learning from your tutors. But for some reason, those lessons aren’t the ones running through your thoughts right now. What comes to mind instead is the only story of the war that you spent your entire teenage years learning back at the Citadel.

The history behind the rise of Nythelean Empire.

You recall the story which spoke of how your father survived the fall of his previous empire, how he managed to move his family, his army, and his people to safety. How he found shelter beyond the Elcester Forest—which you have learned to be one of the few hidden passageways connecting both realms—and under the protection of Mount Orrum, to later use the rough terrain of the mountains to defeat his enemies.

A narrow victory which left a deep wound in your father’s soul as it came with a price—losing his home and the one person he loved the most.

You are beginning to suspect that the old war may have something to do with this magical place, knowing what you know now, that Stargrave is still a part of Nythelean’s territory. There are still so many things that you have yet to learn, so many to unravel if you truly want to know more about your true home and your legacy, but so little time has been given for you to catch up with what you have missed.

“Not much of what was left from the old times, I’m afraid,” you admit while wondering inwardly, especially nothing about the wars happening in this realm. “Nothing more than what I’ve read in the books, which I’m sure has been made distorted enough through the years that followed.”

A nod. He doesn’t question you further before finally sharing his story. A small part of history still unbeknownst to you.

“It was many decades ago when the war erupted in this part of the realm, affecting only the sacred lands and kingdoms that worshipped the moon and its magic. The war was known to be the Great Siege, when a small kingdom suddenly grew strong enough to rise into an empire, and challenged other—older—empires to kneel before them. They came to siege many sacred lands, places built by the Ancient beings that we all know to be our ancestors, to take and conquer as much land as they could.”

Lord Merryl’s eyes are filled with grief and sorrow that you feel guilty for making him talk about the past. But at the same time, you want to take this chance to learn more about this place. And perhaps, you can learn more about the history that you have never studied before.

“Must I assume the war reached this land also?”

Lord Merryl nods. “Indeed,” he says. “At first, we had no reason to join the war, as we never had any direct connection or alliance with other kingdoms, until they came pushing at our borders, demanding us to submit to their king.” He grits his jaw tightly with anger as he speaks of their old enemy, and you can feel the pure rage coming out of him.

“The Dragon King refused to stand down, and neither did the people living here, so we defended our land the best we could. Many dragons had fallen during that war, so did the humans who fought alongside the dragons to protect this land.”

Just then, his expression seems to shift. The deep, sorrowful grief is still there, but there is a hint of pride and longing in his eyes as he talks about those moments during the war. You had seen this same look before, when your father talked about your mother and the old days he spent together with you and your mother when life was peaceful and free.

“We fought our best, and while we didn’t come out as victors, once the war ceased, any direct connection we had with the outer world was severed at the hands of the Dragon King and his court,” Lord Merryl continues, “it was his way of protecting his homeland, what was left of his kingdom, and the dragons and the people surviving the war.”

As you continue to listen, something about what he just said tickles your brain, making you wonder what it is about his story which puts you in such unease. Something about it felt quite familiar, yet you cannot seem to put your finger to remember how.

“Ever since then, E’l Alora became nothing more but a myth. The dragons who fought the war and the surviving ones you see now are known as mythical beasts that only exist in your history books and old scriptures, believed to have been extinct after the war.”

Just like how it was portrayed in the book, you bitterly wonder, as your fingers curl around the hardcover of the book that you have on your lap, while Lord Merryl’s eyes glimmer in anguish. “When in reality, they still exist, surviving, protecting their home and their people, keeping themselves in this dark, secluded place for as long as they need to be.”

His voice then shifts into a more hopeful tone as he carries on. “We do whatever we can to survive through the shift of time, just as you expected we would, for us to sustain our way of living,” Lord Merryl says with a teasing tone, drawing a smile to your face. “Our farms aren’t as vast or as prosperous as others, but we make what we do with the limited resources that are hidden beyond these mountains.”

As Lord Merryl nods towards the rocky mountains across the ravine, you finally understand what he meant earlier when he spoke about the dragons and their riders going around the land beyond the mountains. You picture them exploring beyond those rocky peaks to a land of green that is hidden from view, filled with crops and other sustenance for the townspeople of E’l Alora.

“We also have our local merchants who would travel in and out of the territory through a hidden route that only the townspeople know about as they make trades of our products with goods from other places beyond the borders. Most of our remaining neighbours and alliances are loyal when it comes to keeping us hidden, making sure our trade wouldn’t risk our secret from spreading out. That is how we are surviving today.”

With another nod, he points at the crest that you kept on looking at earlier. The insignia left behind by The Brotherhood of Jorn. “The only outsiders that we have ever welcomed so far are the mercenaries. We have some of our former knights and dragon-riders-to-be who decided to join the mercenary army to travel to different places while helping us to keep up with what has been going on in the realm. They also act as the middlemen between us and the outer world, allowing us to keep our home hidden from any sort of threat from outside our borders.”

Looking at the crest, you are beginning to see them in a new light. The stories and rumours that you have once heard from your father’s men continue to echo through your head whenever you look at them. But now, it feels like you are looking at a different side of the mercenary group which many others may not have been able to see.

“Aside from these trusted people, the townspeople aren’t exactly easy to trust strangers. Even those who knew anything about this place and dared enough to travel this far wouldn’t be so bold to enter a territory filled with cautious townspeople, much less living dragons.”

“I—but I didn’t see all of that when I first got here,” you admit to him as you recall the way they had all treated you when you first entered the town. “The townspeople I’ve come across with have been quite friendly. Even though I did catch some who seemed wary of my presence and kept their distance, there weren’t so many that would have made me feel unsafe or uncomfortable.”

Chuckling softly, the man nods his head. “That’s just how our people are, perhaps. Most of us still retain the same hospitality we had in the past, or perhaps the long period of time we spent living in solitude has made us long to have a connection to the outer world which we’ve lost.”

In a way, you can see it. Your own experience of living in constant hiding, years spent in a life similar to being hidden in a shroud, has made you long for something similar. Had that been the reason why you felt so connected with Yoongi since the first time you met him? Because you were so lonely that his presence instantly filled the void that you harboured inside?

“But most of us are adequate judges of characters. So do the dragons, in fact. If anyone sensed that you came bringing danger with you, then you wouldn’t have been welcomed with such hospitality.” A pause, and his gaze suddenly drifts down, stopping at your necklace. “Your necklace may have also turned to your favour in finding your way to our homeland. Just as I mentioned, the gemstone looks like one acquired from our mines. For us, it would be easy to recognise something that was obtained from our land.”

On instinct, your hand moves to grab onto your amulet. Its glow reflecting on Lord Merryl’s face, which seems to be the reason why his attention keeps being drawn to it. “You think that the necklace guided me here?”

He slowly nods. “I’d like to believe that there may be forces leading you to find a way to this place. For what reason, that is yet to be determined,” he says with a gentle smile, while your mind wanders back to how you found the magic door the first time.

Looking back to it now, you realise that there is no such thing as a coincidence that the door revealed its true form when you passed by the hall earlier. You wonder what kind of force played a hand in you finding this place, to be following the trail that leads you to where your magic necklace seems to have come from.

The same way you did when you found your way to Aeris.

Lord Merryl’s gaze lingers on your necklace while you are in deep thought. His voice draws you back to him when he muses, “That necklace—must have been something special for you.”

Twisting the ruby amulet between your fingers, a tiny wave of grief washes over you. “It’s—it was handed down to me by my mother.” The only thing of hers that you get to keep, you realise as sadness fills the cavity in your chest. “I was made to promise to keep it in my person every time I am to leave home. It was said that the necklace is meant to protect me.”

Looking up, you are surprised to see a slight change happening in Lord Merryl’s gaze. There is something there for a moment. A look which reminds you of the way Lord Gordan looked the last time you talked to him about your mother—recognition, longing, mixed with a hint of sorrow.

“Perhaps protection isn’t the only thing that has been ingrained in your necklace,” he says, just as that ineffable look in his eyes fades before you get to find the meaning behind it. “Some amulets can serve as a guide, showing you which directions to take and helping you to find what it is that you are searching for in need be.”

“That is possible,” you whisper. “That’s right. In this realm, anything is possible.”

Even the impossible, you wonder, as you marvel at how peculiar your life has been ever since you crossed the realm.

Silence falls between you for a brief moment, until a movement catches your attention and your eyes drift towards the open window again. Just as the old, largest dragon that had guided you here earlier suddenly appears, gliding gracefully across the chasm at a slow, leisurely pace.

From this close distance, you get to see the details of its midnight-black scale and the row of pointed horns framing its head, going back to its spine and then disappearing across its long swishing tail. Its crimson eyes are widely opened, almost as if it has sensed your presence and is now trying to find you among the mortals living in this town.

But when the dragon circles back and slows down almost to a halt right in front of the tavern, its gaze flickering to where Lord Merryl is sitting, your lips tip up to a smile.

“Alastair?”

Lord Merryl chuckles softly as he nods, greeting the giant dragon who responds to his former rider with a deep, long trill before he then takes flight. The flap of his wings sends a wave of thick dust across the town square and onto the tavern’s walls, drawing a series of laughter from the people who are lounging outside.

“He got curious and came by to say hello,” Lord Merryl says with a deep chuckle while sounding like he is talking about an old friend that he dearly respects and cares for the most. His smile widens when you softly laugh along with him. It makes you feel giddy on the inside, completely amused that the mighty dragon has chosen to acknowledge your presence in his home.

Last night, your dream brought you to a different place.

Instead of finding yourself standing on the top of a cliff, looking down at a thriving land of greens with crystal-like rivers and posh structures in white, you saw yourself walking up a hill covered with a widespread of green grass.

Perched gracefully atop the verdant hill is a temple that appeared almost twice as high as the local churches you had often seen in the capital city of Smotia. With structures built from bone-coloured stones, the temple appeared like a sculpture of light under the cerulean sky.

In your dream, you were as barefoot as always as you walked the winding path leading towards the entrance of the temple. Flanked by whispering trees and blooming wildflowers, their vibrant hues appeared as muted as the sunlight warming your skin.

Approaching the temple, you were greeted by the grand staircase covered in the same bone-coloured stones which formed the temple’s structure. Each step of stairs felt both cold and smooth under your feet as you slowly made your way up. As you came to the entrance foyer, you were welcomed by majestic columns of white lining up the halls, rising to support the roof that seemed to touch the heavens. The massive entrance door stood at the center of a stone wall adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes from myth and legends—most of them you have seen depicted in your history books.

Upon entering through the threshold, you were greeted by the cool, tranquil interior and a faint scent of waning incense. The temple was empty, aside from the flickering candlelights that aligned the low dais built on each side of the walls within the grand hall.

It felt like you were drawn by an unseen force as you walked toward the center of the hall, stopping where lights filtered through from above. Looking up, you caught the sight of the dome ceiling above, made up of a thick glass that looked more like clear crystal, it allowed some sunlight to penetrate into the grand hall.

At the heart of the temple stood a grand altar draped in a layer of golden silk and adorned with garlands of fresh flowers. A marble statue of an Ancient stood at the center, surrounded by unlit candles, golden bowls filled with red wine, and golden plates filled with offerings of fruit, bread, and fragrant oils that were laid at its feet.

The walls at the far back of the hall were just as pale as the rest, yet the entire surface was covered in tapestries. Banners made of silk in pale ivory colours, each one with the symbol of the moon painted in gold in the center, insinuating that this place was where worshippers come to pray to the moon.

You tried to take another step forward, wishing to have a good look at the Ancient standing at the altar—a tall figure with long silky hair wearing the attire of a hunter, with swords attached onto either side of its hips and a set of bow and arrows hanging on its back—when a strong breeze came rushing in. It came so suddenly that you were forced to close your eyes, shutting you off from this peculiar place until the breeze faded.

Barely a minute passed as you kept your eyes closed, yet you could feel it when the world you saw slowly began to shift.

The temperature rapidly dipped. The cold breeze carried with it the same menacing scent of decay which always followed you each time these dreams ended, causing your blood to run winter-cold which had you refraining from opening your eyes.

But you rarely ever had any control of yourself—of anything at all—while you were in a dream. There was nothing stopping you from opening your eyes, to witness what had unfolded in the mere seconds that passed.

Everything that you saw previously—all the vibrant colours, the elegance that was part of this temple, and the alluring beauty which captivated you—had withered. The temple was no longer whole.

The stone pillars were now damaged and fractured in places. So did the artistic stone walls which were now filled with splinters and covered in soot. Parts of the roof were now gone, with the crystal dome partly shattered, leaving not much barrier between you and the dull-grey sky above.

The floor that had been clear and bright-coloured was now covered with dirt and dried blood, with a thin layer of fog crawling around your feet. The grandeur you saw at the altar had wilted to ruins—the flowers had dried out, the draperies and banners were charred and singed, candles were fully burned and melted, and the offerings all scattered and spilled on the floor, the bowls and plates all toppled and broken in pieces around the broken statue. The striking figure of the Ancient depicted by the statue had become shapeless, with its face chipped in multiple places and gaping fractures soiling its upper body to leave it almost completely disjointed.

Once again, you were made to witness how quick and easy it was for life to wither and wane, the unseen beauty of this unknown world fading right before your eyes, merely moments before you were pulled away to wake.

Sleep felt like nothing more but broken fragments as exhaustion weighed on you all morning since you woke up.

Not even your busy, daily routine could help get your mind out of your eerie dream when it kept returning to you whenever your mind was idle.

Fragments of last night’s dream kept coming back while Lady Laurel had you reading different passages of the books that were part of her lesson—Ancestors Of Magic, Languages Of The East, Ancients And Emperors—that would have usually piqued your interest.

Not even the etiquette and ballroom dance lessons with Lady Abigail could do much to distract you from the grim visuals of the broken temple. As someone who has known you her whole life, she didn’t miss the lack of focus that you put in her lesson that she finally gave in and sent you back to your bedchamber with her scolding,

“Rest and clear your idle mind before you hurt yourself.”

And when Lord Gordan wasn’t there for your afternoon lesson to help take your mind off of the haunting shadows of your dream, you chose not to remain in your bedchamber as advised by your governess. Instead, you stripped out of your day dress and slipped into a different attire—a pair of dark breeches and boots, with a loose tunic as your top to make it easier to move around—and marched towards the royal courtyard with your shortsword in hand, searching for a way to keep your mind from becoming idle.

Anything to keep your body and mind busy. To get the images out of your head and tire yourself out just enough so you wouldn’t dream again in the night.

Even if it meant challenging a knight or a royal guard in the middle of their sword training to have a spar with.

“You have quite an outstanding form, Your Highness,” Sir Stephan, the tan-skinned royal guard who had volunteered to be your sparring partner exclaims as he watches you return to your position after blocking his strike. “That wasn’t an easy feat to follow.”

“I told you to not underestimate me, knight,” you retort back with a smile, enjoying the adrenaline rushing through your body. It has been a while since you felt so alive, to be able to move this freely and use your entire body to its full potential the way you did when you had to practice your sword fighting with your father and his knights.

Amused, the guard’s lips twist to a smirk. “I must do well to remember not to show you such disrespect,” he says as he swings his sword back into position, showing you that he is serious.

Not that he has been taking things easy from the start.

While your arrival at the south courtyard earlier had sparked confusion and shock from the royal guards, he was the only one who didn’t look at you as if you were completely out of your mind. He was also the first to step up and volunteer when you openly asked to have a sparring session.

“I wouldn’t dare shame the royal knighthood nor Her Highness by not doing this seriously,” was his promise when you told him not to hold back, and it pleases you to see him making good on his words to you. For you to not be treated like you were made out of glass, like how other royal guards have been treating you.

Through your sparring, getting a closer look at your opponent, it didn’t take much to understand why.

At first, you recognised him as one of the royal guards who has specifically been assigned to guard you during your evening routines. With a closer look at his face and the way he swings his broadsword against your shorter one, you finally remember him as one of the guards escorting you the night you departed from the Citadel.

The same guard who slipped away from the line of escorts to fight off the unidentified figures pursuing your carriage into the Elcester Forest that night.

Your fight continues, and as he still keeps the same fortitude as he would had he been sparring against his fellow guards, you return it with all that you have.

His strikes are strong, with each clash and contact making it obvious that your sword is much lighter than the one he uses. But it doesn’t mean that you are going to make it easy for him to bring you down.

The hilt of the shortsword feels good in your hand. There is a welcomed weight in your hold as you swing it against your opponent. A presence that you hadn’t expected to be something that you have been missing the most. When you strike, your eyes are focused and your hand is firm, and you catch him by surprise when you make a quick work on your feet and make a clean swipe against him, coming close to nicking at his sharp chin before he deflects your attack with one quick swing of his sword.

A series of cheers echo from all around you as the guards witness him stumbling back. Only slightly, but enough to show that your attack is enough to rattle him.

You can tell that your sparring has gained some more audience, with the guards putting their training on hold to watch you fight one of their strongest fighters. Their voices are loud across the courtyard as they encourage the fight while taunting their comrade. It should make you feel self-conscious if only you are not too immersed in giving a good fight against the guard.

“Be careful, Stevie. Don’t want to see you lose a chance for promotion if you hurt the Princess,” you hear the captain of the guards speak from the side.

“I have a feeling that I should be the one to worry about getting hurt,” Sir Stephan jokes back to his comrade between each strike of his sword, his voice drowning under the loud clangs of the swords coming upon contact as you keep blocking his attacks.

As he slows down while responding to his comrades’ taunting laughter, you take the chance to make another move. Taking advantage of his lack of focus, you thrust your sword toward him. He blocks you with one swing and you shoot forward, spinning on your heel and swinging your hand back, slamming the hilt of your sword against his stomach. Sir Stephan recoils with a grunt upon impact.

“Oh, Fates,” he curses with a cough. A rough chuckle comes from his lips as he recovers to shout at his friends laughing at him, “Told ya.”

You quickly step away from him while everyone whistles, cheering for your move. “Stay focused, Sir Stephan. Don’t want you to actually get hurt,” you playfully taunt him as you move into position, ready to continue.

Seeing this prompts Stephan to strike first, swinging his broadsword down to your side, which you block using the back of your sword. The sound of the deep grunt escaping his lips draws more taunting from the other guards.

“Already getting tired, Stevie?”

Letting out a heavy laugh, your opponent cleverly responds without missing a beat. “I think the Princess is just a bit too tough for me to handle, that’s what.”

“Good thing you volunteered in our place since if you lose this fight, there’s no way any of us could defeat Her Highness.”

“Maybe we should recommend your early retirement, old man. Her Highness can always take your place.”

“Right on. The Princess isn’t even sweating and yet there you are trembling. Even your form isn’t right.”

Their compliments please you, even if some of it is far from the truth. You can feel sweat coming down between your brows and in between your breasts. Your breath is growing shallow, and if only any of the guards weren’t so preoccupied with keeping a close watch on each strike of sword clashing through the sparring, they would have noticed the way your legs are beginning to quiver as you block another strike from Sir Stephan’s broadsword.

As your exhaustion sinks in, what comes into your nearly idle mind is not a part of the dream that you wished so badly to forget, but the words of a wise man who has followed you home ever since your visit to E’l Alora.

“Before you go, I must be honest and admit something. Lest I regret it in case we never meet again,” was what Lord Merryl said to you last night before you left E’l Alora to return home. The look that he was giving you then stayed in your mind until you came back to the castle. “You remind me of someone.”

“Someone you knew?”

His lips twitched to a soft smile. “Long ago, before the war, before this land became as secluded as the way it is now, we used to have travellers coming through our town, often staying with us for a time to experience life here as our guests. There was one who Alastair and I had the privilege to get acquainted with during that time. A female traveller who claimed to be a scholar and was travelling through sacred lands in search of knowledge about the Ancients, much like you.” Once again, you saw a glimpse of longing in his eyes as he spoke. “She looked quite like you, and I am quite sure she was around your age when she frequently came to visit us.”

Then his longing gaze fell on your necklace for one last time. “And she was wearing a necklace similar to yours.”

Sir Stephan’s sudden strike snaps you back to the present. His move isn’t as fast as his previous offences, but the blow of his sword rattles your entire arm the moment it makes contact with yours. You barely manage to deflect his attack, the clash between swords and the force that he uses pushing you back a step. Yet you are still capable of cutting his blow, even if it comes with a cost.

Your knees buckle as you pull your sword back. Snapping your sword down, you stab its tip onto the ground to keep you from falling on your knees.

“Your Highness, is everything all right?” Sir Stephan calls out gently, sounding concerned. Yet he makes no move to approach you, something which you respect coming from him.

Laughing nervously, you straighten up and shake your head. “Seems like I was right all along. I’m quite out of practice.”

The guard looks relieved to hear this. His lips twist into something which resembles a pride smile. “For the record, you are still much better than some of the guards here,” he compliments you as he slowly lowers his sword. “And in a much better shape as well, seeing that you are still standing on your two feet.”

“I take it as a compliment.” Sheathing your sword, you bow your head slightly towards him. “Thank you for lending me your time. We should do this again next time.”

Lifting his sword and crossing it against his chest, Sir Stephan greets you with a formal bow. “I’ll be ready to spar with you again, Your Highness. If ever you need to.”

You turn to greet the other guards with a slight bow before turning away to leave. Behind you, the captain of the royal guards begins rounding up his men to resume their sword training. The sounds of them shuffling back into their position and the clanging of swords follow your departure.

Except for Sir Stephan.

Even without looking over your shoulder, you can feel the heat of his gaze pressing on your back. It shouldn’t bother you so much to have him watching you go, as he is simply doing his duty as your guard ever since the Citadel. Yet it suddenly feels unsettling how familiar his presence feels for you, even as you put distance between you.

He reminds you of someone. Of a moment in time that is lost in your memory. Yet your mind is too exhausted and you are too weary to figure out how.

You try not to dwell on it as you make your way around the small rising leading to the West Tower. Avoiding the side corridor where the entrance of the tower is located, you choose to walk a bit further towards the door hidden behind the hill.

At this time of the day, this side of the tower is quiet. Only the palace maids use this access door, yet you have learned enough to know that none would be passing here during the time they are finishing most of their late afternoon duties.

Crossing the threshold, you arrive in a small hall connected to the long winding stairwell going up to the upper floors. Amongst them is the corridor leading towards your bedchamber, where you can finally rest—both your mind and body—for the day.

Your mind is once again idle as you begin to ascend the stairs. Idle due to exhaustion, yet still enough to silence all thoughts and wonders.

For a moment, you feel hopeful about dragging yourself towards your bed, even if your legs still tremble while you climb up the stairs. The shortsword feels as if it has gained weight as it keeps bumping against your thigh in your journey back to your quarters.

Yet in that comforting silence, your senses are on high alert. Sharpened enough to feel a peculiar sensation rising within that stairwell.

A feeling that is quite similar to what you have often felt whenever you come across any silver doors hiding your father’s magic portals.

Curious, you begin to proceed cautiously. The logical part of your mind is telling you that it might just be in your head. There is nothing up there other than the long corridors of the west wing of Stargrave, where your bedchamber is placed.

As you continue going up the stairs, there is really no mistaking it—the soft hum of magic reverberating through the air, beckoning you to come close.

With one hand wrapped around the hilt of your sword, and the other reaching up to touch the silver key hanging on your necklace—placed together alongside your ruby amulet to make sure that you would keep it close to you at all times—you continue to proceed.

Right before you reach the floor connecting you to your private quarters, you arrive at a landing.

There, right to your left, appears a small archway that seems to have been built into the wall. Similar to the door which took you to E’l Alora, it appears like nothing more but a wall ornament. It seems impossible for it to serve as a door. Not at this part of the tower, when the small windows placed on either side of it are showing you a massive fall towards the shoreline below.

At the center of the archway, what seems to be a carved wall ornament appears to be a plate made up of old wood. It has silver hinges on one side—the only sign allowing you to identify it as a door—and floral embellishments pressed across the surface. The silver embellishments are marred by patches of reddish-brown rust, hiding the silver shine under the uneven, flaky crust spreading on its surface.

Standing before it, you realise that the humming spell is more muted here compared to the ones you have heard and felt from the other magic doors. Yet the sensation you feel all through your body is just the same.

Your racing heartbeat. The pulse of warmth surging through your skin. Even the way your necklace is vibrating against your skin feels just the same.

Cautiously, you slip the key off of your necklace. With a deep breath, and your curiosity rising, you silently pray that the door truly opens to another magic portal instead of sending you plunging into the rough sea below.

The key fits perfectly in the keyhole and it opens with one click, immediately opening as if there is an unseen force helping you to reveal what is hidden beneath. The ripple of magic which appear in the form of a blue mirror manifests right before your eyes, opening the way for your next adventure.

“I suppose there is no rest for today”—you sigh—“yet. Here we go.”

The flow of magic engulfs you as you take a step into the portal. It clings onto your body like a cold glove, causing tingles on your skin while your heart palpitates as your own mana reacts to it. This time, the humming spell sounds more like chants of prayers. Still spoken in a language that you are unable to comprehend.

Your journey across lasts only for a blink of an eye before the heels of your boots land on solid ground. A cold breeze washes over you, filled with the scents of moss and petrichor. Not in the kind which you would often find in the countryside, but more at places that are mostly deserted—like castle ruins or abandoned churches, perhaps unexplored caves in the wild.

Releasing a deep exhale of breath, you open your eyes, only to have the rest of it getting knocked right out of your chest. As if reality comes crashing on you with a hard punch as you realise where you are.

You have emerged right in the heart of an old temple.

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