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laurenairay · 1 year ago

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I need your hands on me, sweet relief - Q. Hughes

Summary: After another disappointing season, Quinn Hughes needs a change of scenery. Renée Moreau is just trying to figure her life out.

Also known as, the Summer in Provence.

Words: 12k

Warnings: angst, fluff, self-doubt, some bad language, hinted intimacy

A/N: Quinn has really sunk his hooks into me this off-season so I knew I had to write something for him! Provence is on my list of places to visit, so this research was really fun to do.

Title from Pretty Please, by Dua Lipa

~~~

Quinn was tired. No, he was exhausted. Every year it had been the same thing – play so hard all season, push his body to the limits, his team forcing themselves to breaking point, only to never make it into the playoffs. With the Canucks not reaching the playoffs for eight years in a row now, despite him only being on the team for half of that, the pressure was starting to take its toll.

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Something needed to change, anything, before the repeated devastation broke him entirely. It felt stupid being only 23 years old and feeling so weary, but he had to do something. He had to do something to break himself out of this cycle, mentally if nothing else. If nothing changed within him, how could he expect anything to change for the team?

By the time locker clean-out day came around, Quinn was at the end of his tether. It wasn’t uncharacteristic of him to stay quiet, he knew that, so he escaped from half-hearted conversation with a promise to attend one last team event, a goodbye barbecue, before everyone went their own ways for the summer. By the time he’d driven himself home to shower off the stink of failure, Quinn had formed a vague plan for what he wanted to do.

He was going to go on vacation. By himself. For at least two weeks.

It was completely out of his comfort zone, completely different to his usual summer routine, but the more he thought about it as he scrubbed the shampoo out of his hair, the more he was convinced. He needed a break. He needed a holiday. Now, he just needed to figure out where.

Somewhere in Canada? No, that was the last thing he needed after the crash of the season. Again. Somewhere in the US? Even more of a no, with the playoffs in full swing. So somewhere abroad? Maybe…somewhere in Europe? The continent was big enough for him to hide in for a couple of weeks right?

The only thing he could think of to do was to pull up a map of Europe on his laptop the moment he got out the shower, close his eyes and have a pointed finger land on a country. Surely he could narrow it down from there, even as dumb as he felt picking a destination this way in the first place. At this point he couldn’t back out though, the desperation fuelling him, so Quinn followed his ridiculous plan – he pulled up the map, closed his eyes, took a deep breath…and placed his finger on the screen.

France.

Okay, France was good. It was a good option, plenty of different cities all across the country. One of them would work for him to unwind in, right? Somehow, he already felt lighter, just from knowing he had a vague destination. Was it really this easy? Why had he not done this before?

Before he knew it, he was spiralling down a rabbit hole of articles - ‘places to visit in France��, ‘3 months backpacking across Europe – must-see sights’, ‘gap year in France’ to name a few – and his eyes kept catching on a name. Provence. And the more he looked into the region, the more he fell in love with its beauty; it had everything from wine tasting to lavender fields to historical towns, and he could almost guarantee that no-one would know who he was. Perfect. Narrowing things down from Europe to France to Provence...and he eventually settled on an ancient medieval town right on the river Rhône, called Avignon. It looked so idyllic, and full of things to do (as well as close distance to plenty of other things to do). Something in his bones was telling him this was the place. This was it, the place where he could disappear to for two weeks to reset and refresh from the season.

And it wasn’t hard to get to either – it almost felt a little too easy. Quinn wasn’t used to things just falling into his lap like this, like it was too good to be true. A 13-hour flight from Detroit to Lyon, and then an hour by train from Lyon to Avignon? And a pretty little apartment in the centre of Avignon for far less than he’d been expecting? It was all there in front of him, timings and pricings included – could he really just book it and disappear for a couple of weeks?

What was holding him back?

Before he could chicken out, Quinn filled in his payment details for the flights, clicking through all the submission pages until a booking confirmation was in front of him, and he let out a shaky breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. There was no going back now. He quickly booked the apartment too, making sure the dates and timings lined up, and once he had that confirmation page in front of him, he found himself laughing a little incredulously.

He'd done it. He’d really done it. He was going to Avignon in Provence, France, for the first two weeks of May and there was nothing that was going to stop him.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Quinn felt free.

~~~

It took Quinn all of his willpower not to spill his plans to his family while he waited out the month before his trip arrived, not telling any of the Canucks either at the end of season barbecue. It helped that Jack (and his team) were in the first round of the playoffs and thriving, easy to pour his focus into supporting his brother there, his family’s full attention on his little brother just as he deserved.

There was just something in his gut telling him to keep quiet. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to distract from Jack’s playoffs, but he knew deep down that he just didn’t want anyone to worry. Because they would. Taking a trip so far away just to change things up? No-one would understand. They’d just fuss and stress and make Quinn feel worse than he already did – so he just didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a little selfish, but he didn’t care.

After a hockey season like he’d had, he just didn’t care.

It was easy enough to pack a suitcase without anyone noticing either, easy enough to have it waiting by his bedroom door with his passport tucked into a rucksack along with a couple of books he’d been meaning to read for a while, easy enough to call a taxi to take him to Detroit airport early in the morning before anyone in the house was awake.

It wasn’t until that he’d checked in and dropped off his suitcase, until he’d walked through security and gotten himself a much-needed coffee, that he pulled out his phone and opened up his family group chat.

From: Quinn Just wanted to let you all know that I’m heading off to France for a vacation. I’ll be gone for two weeks. Best of luck in the second round of the playoffs Jacky!

From: Luke Wait, what? Tell me you’re joking. Mom did you know?

With that, he put his phone on airplane mode, not daring to wait for any more messages to come through. The fact that Luke was awake this early was bad enough. It was the coward’s way out, he knew that, but at least he told them all, right?

With a sigh, Quinn tucked his phone into his rucksack, alongside the travel adapter for his charging cable he’d had to buy moments ago, and pulled out one of his books, sinking deeper into his chair. Only 30 minutes until his flight would be called – the sooner the better.

The rest of Quinn’s journey faded into a blur. Going to the gate. Boarding the plane. Taking off. Eating. Watching a movie. Eating again. Reading his book. Taking a nap. One final snack before landing. Waiting for his suitcase. The train journey to Avignon. The taxi to his apartment, not being awake enough to do anything other than show the driver the address he’d saved on his phone.

By the time Quinn collected the key from the dropbox and stumbled into the apartment, it was all he could do to dump his suitcase in the living room and kick off his clothes ahead of faceplanting into the bed, jet lag dragging him down into a deep sleep with a smile on his face.

He’d made it to France. Provence. Avignon. He could finally rest.

~~~

Renée Moreau felt like she was at a standstill. She’d followed all the steps in the playbook – worked hard in high school, gone to college, graduated with a degree in Communications from the University of Ottawa – but now she was at a loss. There was no rulebook for what to do when you reach adulthood, other than the societal expectations to get a job, settle down, get married, have a family. But she was only 23 years old and single as hell – there would be no marriage and babies happening any time soon, of that she was certain, and as for getting a job? She just didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know what would make her happy.

She was at a standstill. She was lost.

Sure, Renée had worked a couple of odd temp jobs after coming home to Montreal but nothing that resonated with her, much to her parents’ dismay. She loved them – truly she did – but their expectations for her future didn’t line up with her own in her current stage in life, and she knew that seeing her get more and more run down with each job that didn’t feel right only made things harder. It got to the point, after 9 months, where her parents suggested that they could pay for her to take a three-month travel break to Europe on the condition that she would work for her father’s company when she returned. It felt like an easy way out, something she’d desperately tried to avoid…but after the past 9 months, she knew she needed to do something.

So she’d agreed, much to her parents’ elation.

Renée decided on France, in the end. It was her first language after all, having grown up in Ville-Marie in Montreal, and after a bit of serious research with her parents she’d made a rough plan, starting with Paris.

Her parents paid for her 90-day Schengen visa, bought her plane tickets and paid for all her accommodation as belated graduation presents and her birthday present combined, but she would pay for all food and excursions & activities out of her savings from the various jobs she’d worked since graduating. She knew she was privileged, more so than a lot of her friends, let alone the strangers she’d met on her travels, so she knew she couldn’t take her time away for granted.

Like most things, it turned out her parents were right. The trip away, travelling around France, was exactly what she needed.

For her first month, March, she travelled around exclusively by trains. Her first full week was spent in Paris, the perfect start to her trip to soak in all the culture and history, and then after that she went to Rennes for five days, then Poitiers for five days, then Saint-Jean for five days, and finally Bordeaux for a full week.

In the last few days of March, Renée hired a car to drive to Lyon, staying there for a full week to take her into April, and then on to Toulouse for five days. Next, she drove down to the southern coast, visiting Narbonne for three days, Beziers for three days, Montpellier for five days, Marseille for five days, and Nice for five days, before finally heading to Avignon. Within her first two days there, she’d quickly fallen in love with the medieval town, so had decided to stay for her entire last month. Her parents found her an apartment that would let her stay for the full 30 days, so while she was based in Avignon, she kept that hire car and planned to travel around to different places within Provence, to get the full experience.

It was hard to believe she only had one month left before she had to head home to Montreal.

Still, she knew there was something different about Avignon, something that drew her in, something that was telling her to spend her time there – so she was following her gut, just waiting for the universe to give her a sign.

And on the first of May, everything changed.

Renée was on her way back up to her apartment after picking up a few breakfast items from the local bakery, the old lady Vivienne who ran the place having given her a couple extra croissants with a sweet smile, only to see a stranger walking down the corridor towards her. He was tall, maybe 5ft 10, with fairly broad shoulders and toned arms. His dark hair was fluffy and unkempt, his pale skin a little unnatural with its purple bags under his eyes, and he barely looked conscious. Out of instinct, she held her bag a little tighter to her chest, even though he looked a little lost rather than intimidating. But still…she simply smiled politely, hoping that this wouldn’t end badly.

“Good morning. Are you new to the building?”

The man blinked sleepily at her, silent for a moment, before he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak much French. Do you speak English?”

She huffed out a laugh, her nerves fading a little. American. She could recognise the accent easily, different from her own French-Canadian, even if he was slightly slurred with sleep. “I do speak English. Are you…lost?”

He looked confused for a moment. “No?”

“I originally asked if you are new to the building,” she added.

“Oh, yes, I rented out that apartment for two weeks. Only arrived last night and I am super jetlagged, so I’m sorry if I’m a little loopy?” he said, smiling sheepishly.

Bless his heart. That explained a lot.

“I’m Renée, I’m staying in the apartment next door,” she said, holding her hand out.

He smiled warmly at her as he shook her offered hand, a sweetness that sent unexpected butterflies roaring through her stomach.

“Quinn. Sorry if I startled you. I promise I’m not this weird when I’m fully functioning,” he said, still smiling.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his self-deprecation, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry about it. I just want to check though…are you heading out to get breakfast?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning on it – why?” he asked, confused.

“Not a lot of stores in Avignon speak a lot of English, at least not near us right now, so you might want to wait to venture out until you’re properly awake,” she teased.

Quinn blushed slightly, even as he groaned.

“Ah shit, I didn’t think of that,” he admitted, his smile shifting to a wry one.

She hesitated for a moment, before steeling herself. If her trip across France in the past two months had told her anything, it was to follow her gut instincts.

“Do you want to come into my apartment for breakfast? I have extra croissants, a bunch of different jams, and plenty of orange juice?” she offered.

His lips parted in surprise before his cheeks coloured again. Interesting. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she mused, nodding, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t, and we’re going to be neighbours for a little while at least, right?”

“Right.”

Renée opened her front door, Quinn following her in, closing the door behind himself gently. She smiled to herself as he curiously took in the apartment, probably no different than his other than the positioning of furniture, so she left him to look around while she unloaded four croissants from the bag and pulled out a few options of jam as well as the fresh butter in the butter dish she’d bought (that was definitely coming home with her). She gestured wordlessly for Quinn to sit at the breakfast island as she started loading the counter space in front of him, pulling out two plates, a butter knife as well as a few jam knives, and then finally the orange juice and a couple of glasses. It wasn’t much, nor had she entertained anyone other than herself in the couple days she’d been in Avignon, but it was perfect for her.

“Please dig in. It’s humble but it’s tasty, I promise,” Renée said, smiling.

Quinn just nodded shyly, reaching for a croissant. She tried not to watch him as she prepared her own breakfast, but it was hard not to enjoy the pure joy on his face at his face bite of buttery croissant, her smile catching his attention.

“Sorry, it’s just so good,” he mumbled.

“Definitely don’t apologise,” she laughed, shaking her head, “I’m sure I made the same face when I had my first croissant here. And if you think this is good – wait until you try the fresh bread. You’ll never eat processed cut loaves back home again.”

Quinn just groaned, taking another bite, making her laugh softly. She could appreciate a guy who appreciated good food.

“I think I’m going to really enjoy staying here for two weeks,” he finally said, after he’d eaten one half of his croissant.

“Two weeks huh? That’s a pretty decent amount of time to spend. What’s brought you out here then?” she asked.

Sue her, but she was curious. The exhaustion wasn’t just showing in his body – it was in his eyes too. Was he running from something?

“It’s just been a really hard year. With work, mostly. I haven’t had a proper break and I really needed one, so I pointed to a map, chose France, and spiralled down an internet rabbit hole until I settled on Avignon. It seemed like a good place to unwind and rest, at least for a couple of weeks. One of my best friends is getting married in July, so I wanted to be in a better place, mentally at least, before then,” he explained.

That definitely wasn’t the whole story, she could tell, but it was more than enough to explain the basics at least. She could understand wanting to get away from everything to reset at least.

“I’m sorry that everything’s been really difficult, but I promise you that Avignon is a great place for a vacation break. I haven’t been here long but I’m already feeling great,” she said firmly.

“Well if it’s any different than Vancouver, then I’ll be happy,” he mused.

Vancouver?

She could’ve sworn his accent was American.

Oh wait.

Oh.

Quinn.

Vancouver.

The year had been really hard for him.

You can take a girl out of Canada but you can’t take Canada out of the girl. She knew exactly who he was – Quinn Hughes, star defenceman of the Vancouver Canucks. How could she not have realised who he was?

But clearly, he was in Avignon to escape everything, to take a break from his real life and rest. She couldn’t tell him that she knew who he was, at least not right now. He deserved a little time at least to recover from the Canucks terrible season, and she could absolutely give that to him.

“Do you want me to show you around Avignon today and tomorrow? Show you the basics of our little neighbourhood like groceries and coffee shops and restaurants, as well as the tourist sites?”

“Oh I couldn’t impose,” he said quickly.

“Quinn, I’m offering because I’m happy to, I promise. Besides, you said you don’t speak much French and you might need the help, at least for the local parts,” she said, teasing a little at the end.

He blushed lightly before huffing out a laugh. “Alright, if you’re sure. I would love the guide help.”

“Great, it’s a plan! Now, please have another croissant and try another jam flavour. You won’t regret it.”

~~~

For the rest of his first day in Avignon, Quinn blearily followed Renée around, letting her help him pick up basic groceries to get him started as well as heading to a coffee shop to clear some of the fuzziness out of his head. They sat and talked for hours at the coffee shop, sitting outside on the edge of a square, just letting the sights and sounds flow over him, listening to Renée’s interesting stories about the neighbourhood.

He didn’t know if it was still the jetlag or not, but the fact that a girl as beautiful as her was paying attention to him was exactly what he needed in that moment. Her blonde curls were bouncy and shined like liquid gold in the midday sun. Her big brown eyes were almost doll-like, captivating and full of emotion. Her smile was entrancing, her laugh was like music to his ears, and she had curves for days that were simply mouthwatering. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had captured his attention like this, especially not this quickly, but after all this season had been, to have this girl willing to spend time with him? It was everything.

Quinn was still suffering with jetlag pretty badly though, which Renée noticed and clearly took pity on him for, because she kept the rest of their day pretty light, mostly just walking him around the neighbourhood, showing him roughly where the main sights were ahead of a bigger day tomorrow. Which…she still wanted to spend time with him after a day of him being pretty useless other than happily basking in her conversation? Mind blowing.

The little local restaurant that she’d taken him to that night was just the cherry on top of an incredible first day.

Just like she’d promised, Renée had ramped up activities for his second day in Avignon. He’d put up a token protest at first, not wanting her to waste time with him when she had her own vacation to enjoy, but she’d insisted that she wanted to do the touristy things too. That, and he could ‘pay her back’ for translating everything by taking some cute photos of her rather than her having to rely on selfies to send to her family.

He'd blushed, obviously, but agreed quickly. It was hardly a hardship to take a few photos of her, especially when they would all be cute.

Renée ended up taking the two of them on a basic tour of some of the main sights on Avignon. The first being the Palais des Papes fortress, which he’d read about before his trip and was actually excited to explore, even more so when Renée told him that on summer evenings there was an impressive light show there that explained the history of Avignon (which the two of them ended up attending that very evening after dinner in the little local restaurant again, with a flask of spiked hot chocolate). She’d also taken him to the Pont d’Avignon, a beautiful medieval bridge where only four arches survived. After stopping for lunch in a little café, the two of them had wandered around the flower market and farmer’s market at Place des Carmes – not buying anything but just taking in the sights and people watching, soaking in the atmosphere.

In the afternoon, she’d driven the two of them 30 minutes away to visit the Roman Pont du Gard – a UNESCO World Heritage site for a beautiful ancient Roman aqueduct bridge, where he’d taken way too many photos…and Renée had even taken a couple of him in various poses.

For the memories, she’d insisted.

How could he refuse?

Day three found them a little more chilled out. Renée liked to keep a balance, apparently, of chilled days and packing in touristy activities, which Quinn was more than happy to indulge in if it meant spending more time with her. It felt a little silly to be focusing his time around someone he’d only just met, but there was just something about her. Something that made him want to spend time with her rather than isolating himself. And it wasn’t like he’d set out with much of a plan other than getting away from everything back home.

The main thing they did on his third day was walking around the flea market in Place des Carmes, the same place that the flower and farmer’s markets were in the day before, before sitting in the square afterwards in coffee shop to watch the world go by. It was exactly what he needed after the intense day that yesterday had been, and it just gave him more of an excuse to get to know her a little better, even volunteering a little information about himself as well. Not much, but still a little, enough to make her smile at least.

On their way back to their apartments, Renée had insisted on picking up groceries for dinner, promising to cook for him (which he was never going to say no to), as well as taking him in a couple of little trinket stores she’d found on her own first day, some of which he knew he’d be returning to for gifts to take back home. But that wasn’t something he was letting himself think about right now – home. Right now, all he wanted to do was focus on the beautiful girl next to him, so full of joy and wonder and excitement, soaking in her energy.

She’d cooked him a grilled fish dish, paired with sautéed vegetables and potatoes, inspired by one of the restaurants she’d eaten at in Marseille. It was incredible, the best fish he’d ever eaten and he wasn’t even exaggerating – she blushed all the same when he complimented her cooking though, brushing herself off as amateur. If he could pick up even a little of her sense of adventure, he knew he’d be all the better for it.

When they were sitting on her sofa, dishes rinsed and in the sink, both sipping on a glass of wine, Quinn felt like he’d been transported to another world. Finding peace and comfort this quickly on a trip that he’d booked on a whim? It was the last thing he’d been expecting.

“You know, you already look a little lighter,” Renée said, breaking their comfortable silence.

“I feel it. My…job really can be so stressful. I hadn’t realised it was this bad though,” he admitted.

Renée seemed to hesitate slightly before smiling. “I can imagine the hockey season is draining.”

The hockey season. She knew. Oh fuck, she knew who he was? He found himself freezing, no idea what his face was doing but it was enough for Renée to wince.

“I’m not French. At least, I’m not from France. I’m from Montreal, born and raised,” she admitted, nerves all over her face now, “I swear I’m not going to post on social media about you or even tell anyone about you. Your reasons for taking a break are yours and yours alone.”

Quinn let out a shaky breath, trying to smile but he clearly failed because Renée pulled out her phone with a determined look.

“Here, my Instagram. And I can show you facebook too. I don’t have whatever the hell twitter is now and I never have done. I haven’t posted about you and I won’t, I promise. I’m not lying,” she said firmly.

Quinn took the offered phone, scrolling a little through her Instagram posts, noting that there hadn’t been anything posted since they’d met three days ago. He still felt a little shaky but the fact that she went out of her way to prove to him, to reassure him…it helped, a little.

“Thank you for your honesty,” he murmured.

“I didn’t realise straight away. Not until you mentioned Vancouver,” she added.

Well that was something at least.

“I was so sure that no-one would recognise me this far away from home,” he said softly.

She winced again, before smiling sadly.

“If you want, we can go our separate ways and you don’t have to see me again for the whole two weeks you’re here. I don’t want to ruin your time away. That’s literally the last thing I want.”

The full two weeks without seeing her? Something about that sat badly in his stomach, sinking like a stone, and he found himself shaking his head.

“No. No I don’t want that. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, not judging me for being a hot mess, and I believe you when you say that you won’t tell anyone I’m here. My parents and brothers know I’m in France but that’s literally it. Anyone else that wants to know where I am can ask them,” Quinn explained, “I’m enjoying spending time with you, if you don’t mind spending it with me.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. Because I’m definitely enjoying spending time with you,” she said, her smile a little shy now.

For some reason, her shyness made his breath hitch in his chest, enough for him to need to cough it away.

“I’m sure. I’m pretty sure my French isn’t up to the task anyway,” he said, trying to shift the tone of conversation a little, to ease the tension he felt creeping up his neck.

Renée just laughed, making him blush slightly. That was better, even if it was at his expense.

“Your bakery order this morning wasn’t half bad! You’ll get there,” she teased, “Was there anything in particular that you wanted to see or do while you’re here?”

“The only thing I’d really read about that we haven’t seen is the lavender fields?” he suggested.

Renée grinned and nodded, making him smile. “There’s beautiful lavender fields in Sault that I was hoping to go to. Maybe we could go together?”

Quinn nodded in response, his body sinking into the sofa, releasing tension he hadn’t realised he was holding. She knew who he was...and the world hadn’t ended. She still wanted to spend time with him. He still got to spend time with her. Was this a dream? It felt like a dream.

“I definitely want to do a wine tour of some kind. There’s so many vineyards around here it would be silly not to. And I kind of wanted to do a day trip to Arles, maybe another to Aix-en-Provence, but there’s also the Musée de Petit Palais here in Avignon that I haven’t been to yet which is meant to be beautiful? It’s another UNESCO World Heritage Site, and I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy it too?”

Quinn just took another sip of his wine, allowing her enthusiastic words to wash over him. Whatever she wanted to do, he was here for it. And he couldn’t wait.

~~~

Renée felt like she was floating through a dream. She’d honestly expected Quinn to want nothing to do with her after she admitted knowing who he was, but the fact that he was still willing to spend time with her? To indulge her in all the things she wanted to visit just because he didn’t really have much of a plan himself? Well she was absolutely going to take advantage of that, if it meant spending a little more time with the cutest boy she’d ever met.

For day four of Quinn’s trip, she took him on a Rhône Valley wine tour, just as she’d promised, the two of the tasting all different wines including Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Rasteau, Gigondas, Vacqueyras, Cairanne, Tavel, Lirac, Visan, Sablet and Séguret, across four leading wine estates. It was a long day, long and so much fun, with only two couples joining them on the tour, so they’d had plenty of private time together to enjoy the day as well as pick up a couple of bottles to bring back to the apartment as well as a couple of bottles for home. The two of them had stumbled back to his apartment, barely remembering to pick up some bread and cheese to soak up some of the alcohol, which they’d decimated before passing out on his sofa.

Waking up on day five snuggled into Quinn’s side had been worth the hangover.

The two of them had agreed to keep the day as a quiet one, Renée having volunteered to go out to pick them up fresh bread and fruit and coffee after they’d both showered, spending most the morning reading in a comfortable silence before they ventured out for coffee in the same square as their first day, getting to know each other even more now that he could be more open with her. The two of them traed stories of ridiculous friends and hangovers of time past, before heading back to the little local restaurant they’d been to a couple of times already for dinner again, not wanting to break the happy chilled vibe they’d managed to curate over the day.

On day six, Quinn had surprised her with a trip out to the village of Gordes (with her driving, of course), to a spa day in the Airelles Spa. He’d apparently already booked all their treatments, paying the moment they arrived, and considering how fancy the place was, Renée couldn’t even imagine how much money he’d spent on her. But he’d stayed firm in his decision, a streak of confidence that sent her heartbeat fluttering just that little bit faster. It was a side of him she hadn’t seen before, but if he wanted to treat her to a day of relaxation, she wasn’t going to complain.

Alongside the typical swimming pool and steam room, both of them had a neck, shoulders and scalp massage, followed by a thermal mud mineral wrap, and finishing off with a ‘golden glow’ facial. It was honestly the most relaxed Renée had ever felt, but the fact that she did all of this alongside Quinn? With him looking like years of stress had been lifted off of him? She barely had the words to describe it. It didn’t help that he spent the day in bathing shorts and her in a one-piece swimming costume – his toned torso was distracting enough. The spa itself wasn’t that busy at all, so the two of them had essentially the whole place to themselves most the time, and Renée felt like she’d grown closer to him throughout the day more than she ever had to any friend, let alone any guy. It was a personal intimacy, to spend such time in platonic closeness, leaving her a bit overwhelmed with the whole situation, if she was being honest.

Quinn’s pleased smile while they had an early dinner in the village of Gordes kept her quiet though. If he was happy, she was happy.

It was on day seven that everything changed.

The two of them had strolled along the Rhône river in the morning with a cup of coffee each, taking in the scenery and taking their time, heading to the jardin du Rocher des Doms for a picnic. Quinn had brought along one of their bottles of wine from their wine tour, and they’d picked up a second bottle alongside some water, fresh bread, sharp cheese, grapes and strawberries, as well as a couple of chocolate studded pastries from the bakery, all carefully placed into Quinn’s rucksack with a blanket from Renée’s sofa. The two of them settled on a vacant patch of grass away from most other groups, giving them the illusion of privacy, Quinn pouring them a glass of their wine before raising his glass in a toast.

“To the most amazing holiday of my life. To meeting an amazing new friend. To another week of this bliss.”

Renée blushed lightly but clinked her glass against his, taking a sip of the wine that instantly sent her back to the day of their tour with its smooth taste. She cleared her throat, shaking her head to bring her back to the present, smiling at Quinn’s confused look.

“It’s nothing. Shall we eat?”

And the two of them did, a bite at a time, soft bread with sharp cheese with refreshing grapes, saving the strawberries and pastries for dessert, talking for the several hours it took them to finish all the food while they basked in the sunshine and light breeze, long enough to finish both bottles of wine as well. Long enough that Renée felt a little light-headed from the alcohol and the company, Quinn’s soft sweet eyes making her head swirl.

She must’ve stayed silent, caught in his gaze, for long enough that Quinn stopped talking too, staring at her eyes in confusion before his gaze flicked down to her mouth. Her breath hitched in her throat, Quinn’s lips parting in a shaky breath…before he leaned over and kissed her, a gentle hand cupping her face.

And then he quickly pulled away, eyes wide in a panic.

“Fuck, Renée, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…well, I did, but-”

Renée pressed a finger to his lips to stop his rambling, let out a shaky breath of her own. Quinn just froze, eyes still wide in panic, not daring to move.

“You kissed me. Why?” she managed to say, before removing her finger, feeling the phantom presence of his lips on her skin.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he huffed out a laugh.

“Because I wanted to? Because you’re beautiful and hilarious and so cool and it seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Oh wow. That…wasn’t what she was expecting. He thought she was beautiful?

“You think I’m beautiful?” she murmured.

“Yeah, I do.”

It was all Renée could do to lean forward and kiss him again. Quinn made a soft noise of surprise but didn’t hesitate to kiss her back, his hand sliding across her cheek to cup her cheek again. The kisses stayed soft and slow and sweet, only a hint of tongue, but they sent electricity thrumming through Renée’s veins all the same. Never had such an innocent embrace set her heart racing like this. Never. Never had such a sweet boy kissed her so sweetly.

She didn’t know how long they spent kissing, time losing all meaning as she lost herself in his lips, both of them breathless by the time she pulled away.

“Wow,” was all she could murmur, Quinn’s lips looking as swollen as hers felt.

Quinn just laughed, breathless and carefree, making her dart forward to press one last lingering kiss to his lips, earning a soft moan of protest from him when she sat backwards.

“We could, um…”

She trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. He just smiled softly at her.

“We could what?” he prompted.

Her cheeks flushed with a light blush, feeling bold with her thoughts.

“I really liked kissing you. And I know we’ve only known each other a week…but we could fool around no strings for your last week here? There’s no harm in it, right? A little summer vacation fling?”

The moment the words left her lips, she felt mortified. She’d never even thought about doing something like this before, let alone suggesting it, and the fact that Quinn looked stunned didn’t help her feel any better about acting like a floozy.

“Yes.”

His breathy confirmation brought her out of her thoughts, and a smile spread across her face before she could stop herself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Quinn nodded, smiling back at her. “You’re right, there’s no harm in it. I really liked kissing you too.”

Well that was all she needed to hear. Renée leaned forward again, sliding her hand into his hair this time, letting the feeling of his curls between her fingers ground her as she kissed him slowly, unable to stop herself smiling as Quinn kissed her back with a happy sigh.

And that was how they spent the rest of their afternoon, shifting between slow kisses and sweet conversation, sipping the water they’d brought along too, before they eventually headed back to their apartments, changing quickly before heading out to dinner in the little local restaurant they’d been to most nights now, holding hands the entire walk. It felt a little surreal, if she was being honest, that a guy as cute as Quinn was happy to fool around with her when he could have anyone else he wanted. But there was no way she was taking back her crazy proposition now, not if she could have just a little bit of him before he left in seven days.

Spending a couple of hours making out on his sofa before she went back to her own apartment to sleep was the perfect way to end a perfect day.

~~~

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Not when she left his apartment last night after they made out for hours on his sofa, soft and sweet shifting to heated and intense. Not when he tried to sleep but couldn’t get the thought of the way her body felt straddling his waist, his hands desperate to move from where he’d planted them on her waist. Not when he woke up hard as a rock, needing no more than a few moments and a gasp of her name before he was dizzy all over again.

The moment that Renée’s surprising suggestion had reached his ears, he’d felt like he was in an alternative dimension. Things like this didn’t happen to him. Not in real life. Not to him.

And yet here he was, sitting beside her while she drove them out to Arles for a day trip, lips still buzzing where she’d kissed him good morning and passed him a cup of fresh coffee.

But it wasn’t just the physical aspects of it all that was consuming him, as incredible as it all was. He was falling for her, fast. He wasn’t stupid, as much as the hockey player stereotype usually proved. He knew enough about himself to know that Renée was exactly his type – beautiful, funny, smart, and so full of a genuine happy energy. Loved trying new things. Found the little stories of everything fascinating. Had excellent taste in wine. Was an amazing cook. Had a laugh that made his heartbeat race. It was insane how much he already liked her, and it felt stupid the more he thought about because he’d only known her a week. Just one week, seven days, and she had him caught hook, line, and sinker. He still wasn’t sure how he was lucky enough that she was even interested in fooling around with him but he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity, as much as it was probably going to break his heart when he went back home.

But if this morning’s kiss was anything to go by, with the way that he was still floating on air right now, maybe it was exactly what he needed after all.

It only took 45 minutes for them to drive to Arles, Renée finding parking easily with the mid-week calm.

They headed straight to the Arènes d'Arles, the Roman amphitheatre, taking a tour of the incredible two tier structure as well as taking a bunch of photo of each other – as well as a couple of selfies for their own personal stashes. Unfortunately there wasn’t a concert that night – which, if he’d known there were concerts here, he would’ve planned better – and the bullfighting wasn’t on either, but it was still incredible to wander about the 2,500 year history.

The two of them also headed on the Van Gogh walk, Quinn having no idea that the artist had actually lived in Arles for 16 months in the late 19th century. What was incredibly endearing was Renée’s enthusiasm for spotting the locations referenced in his art work, including the Quai du Rhône for the starry night, and Lamartine Square for the yellow house. The walk took them several hours but by the time they’d reached the end of it, Renée was practically giddy, and that alone was worth it for Quinn.

After a lunch stop, the two of them headed to the Cloître Saint-Trophime, another incredible UNESCO World Heritage Site, exploring the cathedral and grounds at their usual easy pace, snapping a few photos – until an older lady approached them with a smile.

“Vous êtes un beau couple. Tu veux que je prenne une photo?”

Renée immediately blushed but nodded, handing her phone over. Quinn just looked at her, curiously.

“She says we’re a beautiful couple and asked if we would like a photo.”

Oh wow. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, sliding his arm over Renée’s shoulders as she wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into his body as the lady snapped a couple of photos of them. She returned Renée’s phone with an indulgent smile, Renée murmuring a soft merci beaucoup in thanks, and Quinn wasted no time in throwing an arm over her shoulder again to see her phone screen.

The first photo took his breath away, with how easy they looked together. The old lady was right – they did look like a beautiful couple.

“You look so happy,” Renée said softly, smiling up at him.

“I am happy,” he said honestly.

Her cheeks flushed and she quickly looked back down at her phone, but he knew that she was smiling.

“I promise not to post it anywhere,” she said quickly.

Because there was no denying that this wasn’t just friendship in that photo.

“Okay, sure. Can you still send it to me though?” he asked hopefully.

She giggled but nodded, sending the photo by airdrop before leaning up to give him a quick kiss. As she pulled away, Quinn felt just as breathless as he did the first time he kissed her. It was getting harder and harder to deny his feelings, that was for sure.

The two of them spent a little more time in Arles before driving back to Avignon, going to their separate apartments to freshen up before heading out for dinner. Typically, they headed out to their little local restaurant – hell, they were practically regulars at this point – and their usual waitress showed them to a table in the corner.

The waitress murmured something to Renée after she handed them their menus, making Renée blush deeply and laugh as she walked away, to which Quinn just looked at her curiously.

“Maude was teasing us. Said it’s about that that we admitted our romance,” Renée admitted.

Well damn. First the old lady in Arles and now their waitress? Did they really look that natural together?

“Alors.”

Quinn startled slightly at Maude’s voice, but let out a huff of laughter as she presented a bottle of ruby red wine. The waitress rattled off a stream of fast French, to which Renée laughed again, shaking her head.

“She said the wine is free for new lovers.”

Now it was Quinn’s turn to blush, earning laughter from both women.

“Merci pour le vin,” he stumbled out, his translation hesitant.

But Maude just beamed, patting his shoulder.

“Bien!”

He slumped back in his chair, letting Renée order for them both, knowing that she could see he was a little overwhelmed and also knowing the food he liked by now. It was easy. Too easy. Why was he getting himself so worked up about this?

“Cheers, Quinn.”

Renée’s soft words brought him out of his thoughts, seeing her raising a glass of the wine to him and that she’d already poured him a glass too, so he quickly lifted his glass with a smile and clinked it gently against hers.

It was very good wine.

True to form, the two of them spent a couple of hours eating, talking, and drinking, just basking in each other’s company, and Quinn tried not to let himself overthink things. No strings, easy fun. He could roll with this.

It was late when the two of them ended up back in his apartment, kissing the moment that Quinn shut the door behind them, and they stumbled over to the sofa without breaking apart. It was consuming, heated, passionate like never before, and Quinn found himself sliding his hands under her clothes, helping her undress as she helped him undress too. It wasn’t until they were down to their underwear that Quinn pulled away to take a ragged breath, eyes roving over her tanned skin bathed in the moonlight that streamed in through the windows.

“Bed?” he asked, more than a little breathless as his hands clutched at her bare waist.

“Yes, take me to bed Quinn,” she murmured.

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

~~~

The next few days felt like they flew by. Renée tried to hold onto each moment, to savour each memory, but when each moment was just as happy as the last, it was hard to distinguish them. Throughout days nine, ten, eleven, and twelve of Quinn’s trip, Renée tried hard to make sure that he experienced as many local things as well as a couple of more exciting trips, to keep his vacation as full as possible.

In Avignon, the two of them visited the Musée de Petit Palais, another UNESCO World Heritage Site, home to an incredible collection of paintings from the 13th to the 15th century. They also went to the Cathédrale Notre-Dame-des-Doms. It was right next to the Palais des Papes, where they’d visited earlier in their trip, and well worth the visit – the frescoes, marble statues and golden statue of the Virgin Mary in the interior were incredible, and another moment for a few photos of the two of them.

Those were mostly for Renée’s memories at this point. She wasn’t going to lie to herself.

As a fun activity, Renée booked them on a lunchtime cruise along The Rhône, listening to the tour guide give them a fascinating description from the water’s edge, murmuring the translation into Quinn’s ear as they went – a perfect excuse to sit practically in his lap, although she didn’t think he minded with the way he had his arm wrapped tight around her waist.

They also took a day trip to Aix-en-Provence, just as she’d asked for. It took them just over an hour to drive, easy in the morning traffic, and she felt lost in the incredible art history, grateful to Quinn for indulging her yet again. They visited the art studio of Cezanne, as well as his works displayed in the Granet Museum. The museum also displayed works by Picasso, Rembrandt, and Ingres, all of which Quinn listened to her ramble about with avid attention. They had an extended coffee break in Cours Mirabeau, visited the beautiful Vendôme Pavilion, before eating a romantic candlelit dinner looking over a busy square, all light up with twinkling lights.

Her favourite day though? A trip to the local farmer’s market again, when they’d eaten fresh peaches and kissed the slick juice off each other’s lips.

All of this mixed with intense incredible sex every single day only led Renée to one conclusion. She was falling in love with him, slowly but surely, and she felt so damn stupid when she realised it, lying naked in his arms while Quinn snored quietly next to her. How could she not feel stupid? He was leaving soon – he only had two days left in Avignon – and there was nothing she could do about it. She was the one that suggested no strings fun after all, although she should’ve known that would’ve come back around to bite her in the ass.

Nothing good could come from this realisation. Nothing at all.

But she would be damned if she wasn’t going to live these final two days with him to the fullest.

~~~

Quinn woke up on his penultimate day with a heavy heart. Not because of the beautiful woman lying naked in his arms, no. Well…no, not really. It wasn’t her fault, after all, that he was falling in love with her. She’d never asked for that, nothing more than fooling around, but here he was thinking like a fool anyway.

That didn’t stop him from kissing the sleepy smile off her face when she woke up, happily making her cry out his name with his face between her thighs too.

After the two of them had showered separately in their own apartments, because he knew damn well that he couldn’t keep his hands off her at this point, they headed out to central Avignon for their final day trip. Today, they were heading to Sault, to the lavender fields, as part of a half day trip with a private guide. Apparently the trips were for a maximum of eight people in a minibus, but there was only one other couple booked in for their trip today, so Quinn was buzzing about having more private time with Renée.

The ride from Avignon only took one hour, but before they got to the fields, they made a stop at the lavender distillery Arôma Plantes. Alongside a little museum, where they learnt about lavender oil production, there was a little store, where Quinn happily bought a ton of gifts for his family to take home with him, and Renée bought her own fair share too. When they finally arrived at the fields though, Quinn had to admit he was a little breathtaken with the vast beauty. The bright colours alone were stunning, and he made sure to take a ton of candid photos of Renée as well as a couple of posed shots, letting her do the same for him before the tour guide took a few photos of them together, getting all the angles in to make them laugh.

The laughing photos ended up being his favourite of the whole selection, if he was being honest.

They visited three fields in total for about 15-20 minutes each, before heading to the village of Sault for a lunch stop, sharing a bottle of wine between them (with the other couple doing the same). By the time they headed back to Avignon, Quinn had a steady buzz from the wine as well as the rush of the day, and it was easy to fall back into his bed with Renée for the afternoon, only leaving to shower separately when his stomach rumbled with hunger.

They changed apartments for dinner, Renée having a better kitchen set-up than he did. He watched her cook for them in a comfortable silence, sipping water to clear his head as much as was possible, smiling at her every time she caught him watching her.

“I’m really going to miss you.”

There it was. He’d blurted it out without meaning to, cringing at the raw honesty in his voice. Renée looked more than a little stunned, turning the stop top burner to low before looking at him properly.

“You’re going to miss me?” she said hesitantly, “Or you’re going to miss this time in Provence?”

“You. Both. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense when I say it out loud, but I can’t believe how quickly these past two weeks have flown by? If I could live in a bubble with you here in Avignon, time standing still and nothing changing, then I would,” he said, laughing a little incredulously.

Renée smiled sadly. “The time has flown by. Avignon with you will always hold a place in my heart. I’m going to miss it too.”

“You’re leaving Avignon?” he asked, confused.

She seemed to hesitate slightly, maybe a little confused, before she nodded.

“I’m leaving France entirely soon – I’m due to head home myself. My Schengen 90 day visa runs out at the end of May.”

Her whole trip was ending?

She was heading home too?

She was heading back to Canada, back to Montreal?

Why hadn’t she said anything these past few days? Why had they only focused on him, only spoken about his trip ending?

While he got lost in his thoughts, Renée finished off cooking, and the two of them sat down to eat in silence. As always, the food was incredible, and he made sure to let her know that, earning the usual modest blush, and they finished off a bottle of wine on the sofa, ending the evening with the slow, sweet kisses that had gotten him lost in her nearly a week ago.

But rather than falling into bed together like they had done all week, Quinn had left for his own apartment with a goodnight kiss, admitting he hadn’t yet packed his suitcase at all, and he didn’t want to rush that tomorrow.

Renée had laughed at him, teasing smile making him blush, but she waved him off with another kiss that left him conflicted. Because while it was true he had yet to pack his suitcase, he also wanted to think.

She lied about leaving Avignon. Why?

No, not lied. Just omitted. He knew she was over on a visa, but it hadn’t occurred to him the timings of her trip and she hadn’t stated it. Why?

Maybe she just was protecting herself. But why?

The more he thought about it, the more overwhelmed he felt, until he was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. Why did he care so much? Why had he let her get into his head like this? Why had he allowed her to consume his heart like this?

Because that what it was, wasn’t it? He was falling in love with her, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, and now there was a slightest fraction of a chance that this didn’t have to end because they would be in the same country for most of the year.

It was the tiniest sliver of a chance but as soon as he thought of it, his greedy heart clutched onto the hope with all of its strength.

This season had been one of the hardest, both physically and mentally, and he’d taken this trip to make a change in his life. A change he had so desperately needed. Was Renée this change? Had she changed him? Meeting her was the first thing that made him feel good in a long time. He was damn sure that he wouldn’t have had nearly as good a time in Avignon if it hadn’t been for her. He knew that, down to his bones.

He had to tell her how he felt. It would be stupid not to, with him leaving tomorrow. At least that way he would know for certain. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, right? He needed to take this shot, for his own heart’s sake.

Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning he would tell her, and he could only hope for the best.

~~~

Renée woke up to the sound of a series of rapid knocks on her front door, jolting her from her sleep and her empty bed. Going to bed had been strange last night, without Quinn by her side as she’d had all week, but she knew that was stupid to hold onto. He was leaving today, after all, so she needed to let go of him. She wouldn’t survive otherwise.

Still the knocking continued, so she got up with a yawn, shuffling to open the door, only to reveal Quinn standing there far earlier than normal. He was fully dressed, holding two coffees in a holder with a bag of pastries under one arm…and a bouquet of flowers?

The most beautiful colourful fresh flowers that she’d ever seen too.

“Are these for me?”

Damn her lack of caffeine.

Quinn huffed out a laugh, smiling fondly down at her, making traitorous butterflies swirl in her stomach.

“Yes, they are. Can I come in?” he asked.

She just nodded, still a little stunned at the beautiful bouquet, Quinn heading straight for the kitchen to put them in a vase, leaving the coffees and pastries on the kitchen island as he did so.

“Quinn…” she murmured, prompting as he put the flowers on the island next to them.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly, before he moved to stand next to her and cleared his throat.

“I’m leaving today. I’m leaving and I can’t change it, so I need to tell you before I regret not saying anything,” he said softly.

“Tell me what?” she asked, dangerous hope starting to seep into her heart.

“That I’m falling in love with you.”

Her lips parted in surprise as her heart felt like it skipped beat. He was falling in love with her?

“Renée Moreau…you’ve made me feel alive for the first time in a long time. Every time I look at you my heart wants to sing and I don’t want that to end. These two weeks have been the most amazing weeks of my life, especially this past week, and I had to tell you how I feel before I burst. Is there even the slightest chance that you feel the same for me too?”

His words washed over her in an emotional wave that she had not been expecting. It was the last thing she’d been expecting, if she was being honest, never daring to hope that he was falling for her like she was falling for him. She felt stunned, shocked into silence as pure giddiness rushed through her. He felt the same? He didn’t want this to end either?

Just as Quinn’s face started to shutter in her silence, Renée lurched forward and kissed him, cupping his face with both hands. Quinn moaned softly, kissing her back with an intensity that left her breathless, but she didn’t dare pull away from him until she started to feel dizzy, resting her forehead against his shoulder with shaky breaths. This was real. He was falling in love with her too. She wasn’t dreaming.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Renée. I admire your free spirit, and your courage, so much. Just going out into the world to figure out what it is that you want rather than coasting along in repetitive nothingness? You’re inspiring, and you make me want to live life to its fullest, every day.”

She choked out a sob against his shirt, lifting her head to look up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I don’t feel brave. In fact sometimes I feel like I’m free falling because I have no destination, and it's terrifying. But you…you’re dedicated to your career, to your family, to everything you love. You commit, wholeheartedly, and you inspire me, Quinn Hughes. You make me want to set roots and figure out what settling down means. You’re special, in every single way, and I really hope I can make you see exactly how special you are.”

It was Quinn’s turn to have tears spring to his eyes, and he shook his head a little incredulously, like he couldn’t believe his good fortune, before he just leant down to kiss her again, the kiss staying slow and warm, toe-curling in its sweetness before he pulled away once more.

“I don’t know what the future will hold. I don’t know how we’ll make it work between Vancouver and Montreal. But I want to figure it out, if you want to too?”

“I do, I really do,” she said, smiling through happy tears.

After spending the rest of Quinn’s last day in bed together, Renée drove him to the train station that evening. He was going to take a taxi, same as his way into Avignon, but Renée insisted, needing that last kiss goodbye. As she watched him wheel his suitcase into the station, ready to head to Lyon and then back to Detroit, her heart was aching dreadfully.

But she would see him again, she knew it.

~~~

The beginning of August felt like the beginning of a new chapter for Quinn. Not just because his off-season training had left him feeling strong, ready for the new upcoming season, but because Renée was arriving today to spend two weeks with him at his family’s house in Michigan. She was coming to meet his family, to finally see them in person, and he was so excited and nervous that he felt like he was going to burst.

The two of them had video called every single day since he arrived home, when she was still in Avignon as well as when she arrived home in Montreal, him meeting her parents over video call and her talking to his parents and Jack and Luke on the calls too – but now they would actually be meeting her in person. It was different. It was real. He wanted to scream and shout and throw up and pass out, all at once, all in the best possible way.

From the moment he woke up, despite his mom encouraging him to keep on track with his morning work-out at the rink with Jack and Luke, he felt like he’d been waiting hours for her to arrive. And sure, his brothers had been ruthlessly teasing him for essentially sitting in the front bay window, but his mom ushered them away as best as she could. He didn’t care though, they could tease him all they wanted – he had the most amazing girl who actually liked him coming to visit. Soon enough, a car pulled up outside the house. Renée had insisted on getting a taxi from the airport, insisting she needed the time to pull herself together – but that didn’t mean Quinn couldn’t rush out of the house to greet her away from his family.

“Hey, you’re here,” he murmured, clutching her hands.

“I’m here,” she grinned.

Quinn wasted no time in kissing her, just a few short soft kisses that he needed, before pulling her tightly into a hug, Renée burying her face in his neck, the two of them keeping that embrace for a few seconds before pulling back with shaky smiles.

“Ready to meet my family?” he asked, picking up her suitcase.

“I think so?” she said.

Her tone of voice made him pause slightly, before he caught her gaze over his shoulder, and there pressed against the window were his brothers, gawking at them like lions at a zoo. Quinn just rolled his eyes, tangling his fingers with hers as they walked towards the house. He couldn’t apologise for Jack and Luke enough, he knew that much.

Meeting his parents went smoothly, his mom immediately pulling her into a firm hug while his dad just looked proud. Jack and Luke were a little more chaotic, but his mom (and thank god for her) broke up the intensity by letting them head upstairs to get Renée settled while she finished off putting lunch together, dragging his brothers out with her to set the table.

He’d cleared a little space for her in his drawers and wardrobe, allowing her to unpack fully with a shy pleased smile, and Renée didn’t take long putting everything away, Quinn watching her from his bed with a soft smile.

She was really here.

She was in his room, she’d met his family, she was staying for two weeks.

Renée was really here.

“So…”

She straddled his lap as she spoke, Quinn instinctively wrapping his arms around her waist as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“So…” he repeated, teasing.

Renée laughed, kissing him slowly, sweetly, just enough tongue to send his head swirling as she pulled away.

“Remember how one of the conditions of my parents paying for me to go to France for three months was that I would work for my dad’s company when I got back?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah, I remember. What about it?” he asked, still a little stunned from the kiss.

“This is where I tell you that my dad has approved for me to run the social media accounts and minor marketing from a remote location,” she said, a little hesitant.

From a remote location.

Quinn inhaled sharply, lips parting slightly. “Does that mean…” he trailed off, eyes wide.

They’d talked about it, what the long distance between Vancouver and Montreal would mean, how difficult it would be. What possibilities they had. What the future could be.

Renée bit her bottom lip before nodding. “It means I can move to Vancouver with you. It means that my dad really likes you, and trusts that I can build a life with you while still doing my job. You know, if you still want me around.”

She would be coming to Vancouver with him. This was more than he could have hoped for after he’d met her, let alone after how last season ended. Was he dreaming? He didn’t think he was dreaming.

“Of course I do, are you kidding me? This is amazing!” Quinn grinned.

Renée laughed in delight as he pressed kisses all over her face, still giggling as he kissed her full on the lips, easily melting into the kiss as he slid a hand deep into her blonde curls, holding her tight to him. But then she broke away, resting her forehead against his for a breath or two before lifting her head to look into his eyes.

“You don’t think it’s too soon? We’ve only known each other twelve weeks! And we’ve only had two of those in each other’s company!” she said, hesitant.

No, he couldn’t have her hesitant. That was the last thing he wanted.

“My mom always says when you know, you know. And I know with you, Renée. Yeah, maybe it’s a little crazy, but it’s a good crazy? I don’t want to waste my life regretting something that has the potential to be amazing, just because it's not conventional,” he said seriously, smiling softly before that smile shifted to a frown, “You’re not having second thoughts, right?”

A lump rose in his throat at the passion in his own words, tears springing to his eyes as she shook her head.

“No second thoughts here at all. I just wanted to make sure – I had to say it. Because I know other people will be thinking it, even if they don’t say it too,” Renée said simply, smiling sadly at him.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks. You make me want to be brave, Renée, and I can’t wait to see where the future takes us,” Quinn said firmly, “Bring on the crazy and bring on these next two weeks.”

She just laughed, nodding again as a couple of tears escaped her eyes. Quinn’s smile softened as he wiped his thumb across a stray tear, before he leaned in to kiss her again. This was everything, right here. The girl of his dreams and the future he’d always hoped for.

“Hey lovebirds, sorry to break up the reunion, but mom wants to feed your girlfriend, Q.”

Quinn groaned as he pulled away, thunking his head on her collarbone.

“Thank you Luke, we’ll be down in just a moment,” Renée called out, laughing.

“Don’t let Quinn keep you locked away – Jack’s up next and he has a water pistol ready to go.”

Renée just laughed harder as Quinn’s face shifted in a light scowl.

“Bye Luke!” he said firmly, listening to his little brother laugh with annoyance, waiting until he heard footsteps to look back at Renée. “Little brothers are the worst.”

“I don’t know, seems like they love you a lot,” she grinned.

His heart melted a little at her sweet words. Not a lot of people understood the dynamics between him and his brothers, how intense they were, how close they were, but just the fact that Renée accepted their crazy without question?

Well, it said a lot about how well she was going to fit into his family, maybe even forever. But that was something for the future. Baby steps first.

“Ready to head down for lunch?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

“I’m ready.”

~~~

Tagging a few people who might be interested in reading: @wyattjohnston @matthewtkachuk @senditcolton @fallinallincurls @cellythefloshie @sorryjustafangirl @jostyriggslover96 @typical-simplelove @ghostyjosty

#my writing #quinn hughes fic #summer in provence #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine

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milkywayan · 1 year ago

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Do you have any recommendations for books about the everyday lives of medieval people? The last two that I’ve read were just disappointing, leaning far more into sensationalism than anything, and not taking into account the changes in worldview and society between then and now. I love everyday history of how people went about their lives, from how they made breakfast and what they wore, to the games they’d play to pass time and what they thought of their place in the universe. I love your historical posting and was curious if you had any recommendations for non-disappointing books to read! (I read better in English than German, but either would be appreciated!)

Cool to hear you are interested in 'domestic history' as it is often called!

I read these kinds of books mostly in german as I am interested in central european medieval times, as most english books are about britain and france. So I am sorry, most of this stuff is German.

Personally I was very, very happy with 'Wien in Mittelalter' by Peter Csendes & Ferdinand Opll, which is as the title says about Vienna in medieval times (from ~900 until 1529, which is the date set as the end of the medieval times in austria). First half is a timetable for each year, based on documents found in the archives to state what happened. Not only what kings and dukes did, but also e.g. 'Frenz sued his neighbour because his window is built wrong'. Tells you a lot about things people cared about. Second half describes in detail how e.g. the city was divided, how it was governed, how people lived etc. I really, really liked it, but it is mostly about Vienna and its Bürger and thus does not go into detail of the world beyond.

In addition to that, speaking of Vienna, there is the Geschichte Wien Wiki, which is one of the best history wikis in the world! So much details and also images of a lot of maps and stuff, it is great!

Another book I am currently reading (and loving) is also German, called 'Unerhörte Frauen' by Henrike Lähnemann and Eva Schlotheuber, and is about medieval nuns, mostly of the late 15th century in Germany. It discusses diaries of nuns and also explains how they lived, how the cloister was set up, how their education looked like, etc. It is really nice and it is very well researched, putting attention to often ignored women!

When it comes to food I generally read the actual recipe books from the time, as it is the best representation for it. There are also a lot of blogs from reenactors talking about it. For example this blog where some of my friends are involved, focused in 14th century cooking (also german).

I also recommend this blog by an Austrian reenactment group, where they talk about a lot of cool medieval topics. They are very passionate and have a lot of references (also German but have some posts also in english)

Going more specific and maybe boring there is this 7 book set about the finds of excavations in London. I have two of them by now, and it is quite cool to see what people used, how it looked like, what was common, what stuff was made of. But it is very thechnical/academic, so maybe not what you may be looking for. My reenactment friends and I love these books because it helps a lot in recreating stuff authentically.

Otherwise I read not that many books about medieval life, I mostly read research stuff and read medieval literature (I made a long post about it a while back) and talk with my nerdy friends about it

I hope this is useful!

Any of my followers, feel free to add if you know cool books and stuff :)

#personal #medieval #medievalcore #ask #anon

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useless-catalanfacts · 9 months ago

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Hi. A question in relation to your response a few asks ago. As a leftist foreigner, I have always thought Catalonia and its independence movement have a cemented leftist core, but is that just me simply being an essentialist and simplifying the dynamics since the war? Of course, I understand that most Catalans, like most people, are just normal people living their lives and wanting health and happiness and not hard-core extremists either way. I'm half Palestinian and boy, am I tired of people painting us as inherently political when all we want to do is, you know, stay alive. But, I've always just imagined Catalonia as a stronghold for socialist and anarchist vibes. Is that off? And if it's not off, how come one Spanish narrative is that Catalans are bourgeois and capitalist has been so prominent? Like, what are they basing that on? The fact that Catalonia is a somewhat wealthy region? And how do leftists respond to that? Sorry for sensitive questions I'm just really intrigued by this. Sending all the love from one occupied people to another.

First of all, my most sincere best wishes for liberation and solidarity to you and all the Palestinian people 🇵🇸❤️

You are right, Catalonia is a stronghold of leftism. It can be seen easily in maps of election results every time there are Spanish elections, or polls, etc. Catalonia and Euskadi always stand out. This is so prominent that there's even a Twitter account called The F*ck*ing Same Map Again making fun of this, lol. And within the independence movement even more so, too. Historically, the Catalan independence movement has been very linked to communism, with presence of social democrats as well. Since around 2010, many more social democrats and liberals have joined, too. This is not to say that no other profile exists, as you pointed out you can't expect a whole country to have the same ideology, but it's overwhelmingly the case.

The reason why the Spanish left likes to stereotype Catalans as bourgeois (at the same time as, when it's more convenient to them, they also stereotype Catalan people and language as a poor rural farmers' language) comes from the fact that Catalonia (and to a lesser extent also the Basque Country) were the only places of the state of Spain that were industrialized during the Industrial Revolution and for most of the 20th century. This created a very prominent Catalan working class —for your ask, I assume you know about the CNT, the collectivizations, etc. To give an overview, in 1919 about ⅕ of ALL of Catalonia's population was affiliated to the CNT anarchist union, that is not counting people in the rural areas affiliated to unions for rural workers like Unió de Rabassaires that also sympatized with CNT in many matters but was more focused on agricultural workers. More than ⅕ of the whole country's population being a paying member of the anarchist union!— But, of course, industrialization also produced a muuuuuuuch smaller amount of bourgeoisie. While most Southern and Central Spain was still ruled by the aristocracy that owned most of the land and hired agricultural workers on a daily basis (jornaleros), in Catalonia there were bourgeois factory owners.

In the 1920s, many people came from rural areas of Spain to Barcelona and other urban areas of Catalonia (the population of Catalonia tripled with their arrival), and in the 1960s again the same (this migration tripled again Catalonia's population). In many places, the people who were arriving lived side by side with the people who were already there, usually learned Catalan and mixed with the population. But in some places around Barcelona, because there wasn't enough housing in the city for all the huge amount of people who were arriving, the regime (this was still under Franco's dictatorship) built "dormitory suburbs" where previously there was no town nor suburb. Areas that used to be fields suddenly were all built into cheap housing for the arriving Spanish workers, often with very bad conditions when it comes to public services. Thus, there were pockets of the newly-arrived population that lived in areas only created for them and only inhabited by people who had arrived at the same time as them. The result is that these workers only ever knew other Spanish immigrants, and the only Catalan people they ever met would be at their jobs when they commuted out of their dormitory suburbs into Barcelona's centre. This way, in these pockets of the population (which, of course, did not come free of Catalanophobia) the idea that everyday people spoke Spanish and the bosses and managers spoke Catalan was cemented.

(Obviously, I don't mean to say that everyone in those neighborhoods thought this, only that it was an idea that developed and spread to many people there. There were also people who did not see all the Catalan people as enemies and kept a good class analysis and allied with the Catalan working class and the Catalan people as an oppressed group. A famous example is the writer Paco Candel who lived in one of these new working class neighbourhoods and was an activist for the working class and also for Catalan language, cultural and political rights. I don't think it's been translated to English, but if anyone reading this wants to get a very good view of what the situation was like, the must-read is Paco Candel's 1964 book Els altres catalans).

The idea that "people like us" speak Spanish and bosses speak Catalan is, of course, objectively false. Since in every place capitalism needs more workers than bosses, the first proletariat of the state of Spain was Catalan, and the overwhelming majority of Catalans were and are working class. And the poorest areas of Catalonia are also the ones where Catalan is most spoken and Spanish is rarely heard (all of them in Terres de l'Ebre, a largely agricultural area). At the same time, Spanish has always remained the language of power, the only one spoken by the police, the army, the government, the public administration, etc and the one that rich people want to be heard speaking for prestige reasons. Even more so back then, when Catalan was prohibited and legally persecuted in many sectors. But despite being an overall false picture, it was the experience of these people day after day. The mix of already-present Catalanophobia with the "confirmation" of Catalan people being their enemies in the workplace created this very weird and very out-of-touch mentality of Catalan people being bourgeois in a small part of the Spanish speaking people, while for the vast majority the idea of still that speaking Catalan is for extremist antifascists and that it was a thread for the fascist state and for the very existence of Spain and thus needed to be erradicated. With time, after the dictatorship ended and the democracy period started (1978), the Spanish left was legalized (Catalan independentist parties would take a while yet, because it was said that "Catalan separatists are more dangerous than the communists", but in some time ended up legalized as well, except for some Basque parties that have been illegal until the 21st century) and a part of the Spanish left instrumentalized Catalanophobia to gain votes in some circles, so they used this rhetoric and it spread more, because it gave them a justification that used the right words to sound vaguely leftist and they don't have to question their beliefs nor prejudices.

I hope this answers your question. Thank you very much for your interest and your solidarity, it's greatly appreciated.

#ask #anonymous #catalunya #història

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 2 years ago

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Summer | JJK

Hello Darlings!!!

Pairing: royal guard!Jungkook x princess!Reader, prince!Jimin x princess!Reader (ft. Yoongi & Hoseok)

Summary: In which you, princess of the Gyeongdong Dynasty, were in the middle of wedding plans. An arranged marriage that would guarantee your father's bloodline to stay on the throne.

Or in which you are assigned a new royal guard that swore to protect you with his life. Jeon Jungkook. That's his name. A name you could never forget. A name that, slowly but surely got engraved not only on your memories but also in your heart.

Love, politics, betrayal and desire. All in ancient history. A love that never should have happened, two souls that wouldn't be allowed to be together.

Warnings: angst, fluff, talks of arranged marriage, eating, love, historical au, forbidden love, betrayal, royal au, more angst (prepare yourself for it), ancient traditions. (I think that's all, if I forgot to mention something and you consider I should put it here, please let me know!)

Word Count: 9.4k

*A/N Hello everyone, thank you for giving this story a chance. This is my first time posting for Jungkook in here so I really hope you'll like this first chapter of my four-chaptered series. If you liked this, please let me know in the comments!! I'd also like to know your thoughts for the next part :)

*Banner made by me.

The sun was shining outside the big halls of the palace, the golden rays kissed the freshly cut grass and illuminated the place beautifully. How you wished you could go out there and sit under a tree, enjoy the warmth of the season and live without a care in the world.

However, you found yourself only wishing to do those things as your eyes stared out of one of the many opened windows of the palace, watching how the guards paced from place to place while the maids carried important things.

"Your highness, which silk would you like for your wedding dress?"

That brought you out of your thoughts, turning your gaze down to where one of the maids was presenting you with different kinds of silk but to you, they all looked the same. It was getting tiring having to decide so many things for a wedding that would be celebrated up until winter.

There was so much to do in such little time. And it was stressing you out not only because of the time but you weren't enjoying the preparations at all. This wasn't what you wanted, you didn't even know who your husband was going to be and that just wasn't right. If your father arranged your marriage the least he could offer was to know who your soon-to-be husband was going to be and get to know him as best as possible.

"I can't decide. I'll leave it to your professional opinion."

You said to the royal seamstress, she bowed at you and said, her eyes glued on the floor as you stood up from where you were sitting.

"I'm honoured, your highness."

A small smile graced your lips before you made your way out of the room, your dress trailing behind you as you left the place without another word.

A sigh escaped your lips once you were outside of your room, the sun kissed your skin delicately as you kept your gaze forward, admiring the beautiful gardens of the palace.

You still couldn't grasp the fact that you were going to get married in a couple of months. It was just way too sudden that your brain hadn't processed the information yet.

Every week, you were allowed to leave the palace for a day followed by guards and only able to walk around certain parts of the city. The people welcomed you with smiles and open arms each and every time you visited the city. You, the princess of Gyeongdong, were loved by the people and they couldn't wait for you to be their queen.

But since your engagement was announced, you leaving the palace was out of the map now. Your father couldn't risk something happening to you when the wedding was so close, furthermore, you were his only daughter after your mother passed away after giving birth to you, your father's princess as well as the kingdom's next ruler.

"Princess!"

You turned around at the sound of the voice of one of your closest people in the palace. The royal counsellor's son and a dear friend of yours, Jung Hoseok.

When he arrived next to you a smile was painted over his lips, he bowed down at you making you frown a bit.

"Stop it, I've told you many times before that you don't have to bow in front of me."

He chuckled, his hands behind his back as he straightened back up.

"Yes, I have. There are so many guards and court ladies that could see and that wouldn't be good for me, princess."

You sighed at his answer. He had said it time and time again but you just wanted to have a normal friendship, was that too much to ask? Maybe it was. At least for now.

"I'm sorry, you are right. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble because me."

Hoseok smiled and that made a small smile paint over your own lips. That was a power only he had, he would smile and it would make you smile too.

"It's alright, I can be sneaky when I want. Especially to the kitchen. They never know when I was there."

That made you let out a snort before laughing completely. Forgetting about proper manners or who could be watching you at the moment, you just lived that fragment of time. Enjoy it how it should be enjoyed.

"Speaking of..."

He continued, bringing his hands in front of him only for you to notice the small package covered with white fabric. You smiled widely at him.

"...I managed to sneak out some fish-shaped pastries."

You let out a squeal while Hoseok unwrapped the package and opened the lid for you to see he had bought your favourite dessert.

"Thank you, Hobi! I've been craving this since last week!"

With that, you took one and immediately began eating it, savouring the sweet flavour inside your mouth as you closed your eyes for a moment.

"Why didn't you just order for the maids to bring some pastries to your room, your highness?"

You sighed, swallowing the sweet treat only for then to say, your joyous face turning slightly sombre when the bubble of happiness was suddenly popped with reality.

"I am not allowed to eat anything like this, at least not until my wedding day. King's orders."

Hoseok's eyes widened in surprise at your words. Panic flared through his features as he came to the sudden realisation that he was disobeying the king's direct order. He looked around frantically, searching for people nearby that had witnessed him giving you the pastries while you continued to munch on another bite of the sweet treat.

The next thing he did, however, made your eyes widen as the remainder of the fish-shaped sweet was taken from your hand rather abruptly only for Hoseok to throw it in his mouth at the end. It all happened too fast you were left staring at your best with a dumbfounded face.

"Yah! Why did you d-"

You cut your sentence when you spotted one of the court ladies followed by a group of maids appearing in your peripheral vision. You quickly straightened your back while Hoseok hid the package he was holding behind his back, swallowing the remains of the pastry he took from your hands.

The court lady bowed when she stood in front of you, the other maids mirroring her actions. When she stood back up, she said, her voice cold and her attitude as strict as always.

"My Lady, His Majesty; The King, has requested your presence at the main hall."

You curtsided softly, a soft smile on your face.

"Thank you, I shall go there immediately."

And with that, you turned around and began walking along the large gardens with Hobi following you at a proper distance. When you rounded a corner and were out of the court lady's sight, you sighed. Hoseok caught up to you and you smiled at him.

"Thanks, Hobi."

Those whispered words made him smile, he looked back before saying.

"I should probably go back, I'll see you later, princess."

You nodded at him with a soft smile over your beautiful features and he bowed slightly at you only for then to fast-walk to the opposite direction from where you stood. You were left alone again and took a deep breath before you continued on your way to the throne room where your presence was requested.

"Her highness, princess Lee (y/n), has entered the main hall!"

The eunuch announced, you walked towards the throne with your hands clasped in front of you, your head low as you made your way across the place.

"You wished to see me, Your Majesty?"

You said, you gaze glued to the floor after you bowed at your father. He chuckled a bit, before saying.

"Princess (y/n), your fiancé, Prince of the Park family will be visiting us this autumn, the wedding will be held here, in the royal palace. I expect you to behave accordingly, dearest."

You bowed to him, not surprised at all with the news as you were already aware that the man you were going to marry was coming to stay at the palace, thanks to one of the maids who eavesdropped a conversation between two of the court ladies.

"I will do as you wish, Your Majesty."

He nodded, allowing you to retreat back to your room. The moment you were out of the main hall you let out a deep sigh. This was it. You were really getting married by the end of the year. You just hoped that the Prince of the Park family would be a nice person and would treat you right. Perhaps there would be no love in that marriage, you didn't expect it at all but the least you could get was the rightful place as his wife and Queen of Gyeongdong.

It was unfair, yes. Had you hoped to meet your only true love while being a child, of course but that wasn't your story anymore. You weren't a princess that needed to be rescued by a charming man only for then to fall in love. You had a duty with the kingdom, with your father and with yourself.

This marriage had to happen, even if you didn't totally approve of it. It was something that had to be done and there was no turning back.

"The Princess is getting married this winter."

The announcement made the royal guards look towards their superior as he stood at the doorway of the place they were having dinner.

"Her Highness is so lucky."

"She is marrying a Prince."

"Obviously, she is really beautiful."

"I wish I could get someone as beautiful as the Princess."

These and more murmurs could be heard in the room where all the guards enjoyed their warm food. But then, their superior, Captain Min Yoongi said, his voice back to its commanding tone.

"Yah! I didn't tell you all this for you to fantasise about your non-existent love life. This is important, the Princess needs to be guarded with more attention now that the wedding is close to the agreed date. Now, finish all your dinner and we will begin with the night's patrol in a couple of minutes."

With that, the captain left the place. Going back to his own personal quarters until it was time for the patrolling.

Meanwhile, at the guard's dinner table, the murmurs and comments didn't stop.

"They say Her Highness is marrying the Prince of the Park family."

"No, no, no, you heard it wrong. She is marrying the Kim's family first born. I heard they are the wealthiest family after the royal family in all of Gyeongdong."

You paced back and forth in your room. Tomorrow was the day that you usually went down to the city and left the confinement of the palace. But now, you were prohibited from leaving the royal grounds. The hot summer air entered through the opened windows and you stopped pacing. It would be of no use if you tried to convince the head court lady to let you go out.

She would immediately tell your father and that wouldn't do any good. Right now, you don't need any more prohibitions, what you needed was to get out of the place, just for a day. Clear your head from all the wedding plans and stuff that was forced into you.

You sat down with a huff, your skirts puffing out with your action. There was no-one that would take you out of the place tomorrow as they'd all fear the consequences if they got caught.

Perhaps I can beg father one last time. I'll beg on my knees if I have to.

With that thought in mind, you stood up from your crouching position and grabbed one of the lanterns in your room before you left the comfortable place and walked along the gardens, the lantern illuminating your path as you made your way to the King's palace.

"Your Majesty, Princess (y/n) has requested an audience with you. She said it was urgent."

Said the king's personal royal guard. He then told him after taking a sip from his cup of tea.

"Let her in."

The guard bowed and walked towards the closed doors, he opened the entrance way and you entered your father's room. Your head hung low. When you found yourself standing in front of him with the table with his dinner being the only thing between you both, you commented in a soft voice.

"Your Majesty, forgive me for coming here late at night but I have a request to make you."

The king sighed, putting his small cup on the table and giving you his complete attention.

"Go on."

You gulped, preparing the words you were about to say. It was now or never.

"I... I wish to go down to the city tomorrow."

You heard him take a deep breath and you screwed your eyes shut. Had you been, perhaps, too direct with your petition?

"We have already discussed this. I will not let you leave this place until you are married. Go back to your room."

His words made you feel hopeless, trapped in a cage. A golden cage. A lump began forming in your throat due to his harsh tone but you wouldn't back away that easily. Your father's eyes widened when you sank down on your knees, your eyes leaving the ground only to lock them with the man who raised you.

"Please. I beg you. I'm not asking you this as the Princess and future Queen of Gyeongdong but as your daughter. I feel trapped here, it's suffocating. I promise I'll behave completely when the Prince and his family come to the palace but I plead to you to let me enjoy the little time I have as an unmarried woman.

I promise I won't disappoint you, father. Please, don't keep me here like a trophy. Please just let me go out once a week. That's all I'm asking."

There was silence after you finished, a silence that was beginning to feel asphyxiating. There was no noise that could be heard, not even the rustling of the wind outside and you could swear that you'd be able to hear a drop of ink landing on the ground with how silent the atmosphere had suddenly gone.

"Go back to your room, (y/n). I don't want to discuss this any further."

You let out a defeated sigh, blinking back the tears that had gathered in your (e/c) eyes. Standing up, you bowed at your father and said before leaving the room.

"Goodnight, Your Majesty."

When you found yourself back in your room was when you finally let your tears go. The lantern you were carrying was left abandoned near the entrance way as you made your way to your bed setting. You didn't even bother to change from your dress and laid down over the soft covers.

You already knew that once you got married you wouldn't be able to leave the palace unless it was some kind of political matter that would require your presence otherwise you'd stay in the palace grounds forever.

And now, when you had the chance of enjoying the last remains of your time alone, your father prohibited it. The tears rolled down your cheeks as you curled yourself under the blankets, the tears were a reflection of your anger and sadness but mostly a feeling of hopelessness that had settled in your heart since the news of your engagement was announced.

You didn't know when exactly you fell asleep but when you opened your eyes again, you were met with your room illuminated by the early sun rays. You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, when you stood up you heard one of your personal damsels say from the outside of your room.

"Your Highness, your new clothes are ready."

Walking towards the entrance way, you opened the door and let the maid as well as two more women who always assisted her in dressing you inside the place you had slept last night.

One of the three women inside began arranging your bed setting while another one displayed your clothes for the day. You had to admit it was a beautiful dress with a deep blue purple and puffy skirt and a white top which had details in light blue. The silk of the dress seemed soft at the touch and you could swear it was as all your dresses were made with the best fabrics of Gyeongdong.

"My Lady, can we assist you in getting ready for today?"

The maid who had spoken not even five minutes ago outside of your room asked, her voice was gentle and she kept her gaze lowered. Her words triggered something inside you. What was the point in getting ready if no-one was going to see such fine clothes? No-one, other than the people at the palace saw you walk around the gardens so, was it really worth it using these clothes when all you did was stay inside all day?

No.

That was what you answered to yourself. It wasn't fair, it wasn't needed. It wasn't worth it. You were deep in thought as you let the three maids dress you up with the beautiful dress that was, indeed, very soft to the touch.

When you came out of your thoughts, you were sitting on the floor as delicate fingers ran through your hair, combining it and styling it properly. Just as the maid was about to put a couple of pins in your hair, another one of the damsels suddenly said, making you look up from your lap.

"Princess, His Majesty is coming here!"

You stood up, dusting off your skirts only for then to go to the door. The three maids followed you. When you opened the entrance way and found yourself in the doorway of your own palace you saw how your father stood in the garden in front of your door. Captain Min stood at his right as four other guards stayed behind the King.

You bowed, your damsels mirroring your action until you spoke in a clear yet emotionless voice.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. What can I do for you this early in the morning?"

The king let out a deep breath, you lifted your head and looked at your father, your hands clasped together in front of you.

"I am assigning you a personal royal guard,"

That instantly caught your attention, the look in your eyes changing to one of hope upon hearing that sentence.

"only with him by your side are you allowed to leave the palace grounds."

You had to bite down on your bottom lip to suppress the smile that threatened to grow on your face.

"First Officer Jeon,"

Your father named out and one of the four guards stepped at the front, kneeling in front of his king. From your perspective, you could tell he was tall and well built, you stood in the doorway without moving, expecting your father's next words.

"you are to keep the princess safe until the day you die. Her safety is in your hands. You must accompany her to wherever she wishes to go and never let her out of your sight. That is your duty as the princess' personal royal guard."

The man you came to know his name was Officer Jeon then said, his voice low and certain of his next words.

"I swear no harm will ever fall upon Her Highness as long as my heart is beating. I'll protect her with my life."

You swallowed at his words, the severity of his vow downing on you.

"Very well, stand up Officer Jeon. Princess (y/n), you are now free to leave the palace just remember the rules, I don't want you going out everyday or staying out until late at night."

You bowed once more, a wide smile over your lips.

"I appreciate your generosity, Your Majesty. I promise to follow the rules to the fullest."

The king chuckled and you straightened up, a gleam of happiness in your eyes.

"Very well then, I shall take my leave."

You all bowed as the king left, Captain Min Yoongi and the other three guard following him as they began discussing some plans of safety for Gyeongdong but your mind couldn't care about their strategies at the moment as the happiness of going out once more clouded any other thought that could cross your mind.

First Officer Jeon turned around, facing you. You smiled at him before looking at one of the maids that were smiling among themselves.

"Bring me my outer robe and small handbag, please."

"Right away, Your Highness."

The damsel quickly went inside your room to fetch the items you just requested, in the meantime you turned towards the man whose duty was to protect you at all costs. He was looking across the garden, perhaps he hadn't been this much in this part of the palace. You thought to yourself.

The summer outer robe in white silk was placed over your shoulders and you grabbed the bag from the maid's hand. You thanked her before skipping along the small steps until your feet landed on the green grass that covered the outside territory of your palace.

"Shall we go, Officer Jeon?"

You walked down the first steps of the palace, the main gate opened and you felt like you could suddenly breathe again. A sigh escaped your lips as you ventured through the gate and out of the palace, a golden prison.

Your personal guard was trailing behind you, keeping a proper distance between you both. You watched him from the corner of your eyes, approaching the city as you two walked towards it.

"You can walk next to me, you know?"

First Officer Jeon looked at the back of your head upon hearing those words.

"That wouldn't be proper of me, Princess."

You pouted slightly before you turned to face him while still walking backwards to the city. His eyes widened a bit at your action and took in how care-free you looked.

"But what if someone attacks me and you are standing behind me? You should always walk by my side."

A soft smile was plastered over your features while still facing him. However, he ignored what you said and commented, his voice a bit more distant than before.

"You will trip if you walk like that."

It was a statement rather than a possibility and that had you frowning up at him. If he was going to be like this then your little trips to the city and nearby villages were going to be a bit dull, at least until you got to your desired destination.

"I won't! I don't lik-"

But your sentence got cut off when, just as he predicted, you tripped with a small rock. You gasped when you felt your body being pulled down to the ground by gravity, the heavy skirts of your dress not allowing you to gain back your footing.

It was only when you felt a firm hand grasping yours and a pull over your body when you were back on your feet.

"I told you you would trip over."

Officer Jeon said, his voice cold and distant but you were able to catch a tinge of humour behind his words. A soft blush painted your cheeks when you realised he was still holding your hand in his surprisingly warm one.

Out of a sudden you felt shy, retrieving your hand from his grasp and taking a couple of steps away from him as you hadn't noticed just how close the two of you were a mere second ago.

"That... that was- it wouldn't... aish. I don't like for people to walk behind me, I feel like I'm being followed. Just... just do me the favour, could you? Just walk next to me, I promise you won't get in trouble."

He sighed, looking around before agreeing with a silent nod.

"And, thanks by the way. For not letting me fall down."

He bowed slightly, the both of you continuing your path down to the city.

"I was just doing my work, Princess."

You had to bite down on your lip to keep the smile from shining all over your face. He indeed took that vow to heart. You thought. Looking up at him, you noticed just how handsome your personal guard was and a warm sensation spread all over your body.

"So... tell me. What's your name? How would you like me to call you?"

Your question made him look down at you for a split second but you continued to watch him with curiosity. If he was going to always be with you, at least you could be friends?

"I am the First Officer of the Royal Guards, Jeon Jungkook. You can call me as you please, My Lady."

Jeon Jungkook.

You had to admit the name suited him. You blinked at him and said with a smile, more of asked him though.

"Is it okay if I call you just by your first name?"

Jungkook kept his gaze straight forward as he answered your question.

"As I told you, Princess, you may call me as you please."

You smiled at him, some silence falling between you both. It was a comfortable one and you just knew that you and Jungkook would get along pretty well. You could feel it.

"It's the Princess!"

A villager exclaimed when he caught sight of you with your royal guard walking by your side.

"She's back!"

"Her Highness has arrived!"

This and more exclamations were heard among the people that were suddenly surrounding you and Jungkook. You gave a sweet smile to all the people who greeted you and bowed respectfully at you, their Princess.

Jungkook was alert, keeping an eye on you while checking the place. The crowd began getting bigger and bigger and to him, that only meant the risk of something happening that could put your safety on the line was increasing.

He had never seen the people from the city so enthusiastic about someone, however he could tell you were really loved by Gyeongdong's citizens.

With a smile, you received the little gifts from the people all while Jungkookk never left your side. You could feel how tense he was when there were too many people around you but, even if you had only met him that same morning, you felt safe with him.

You knew that as long as he was next to you, no harm would come over you. It was strange but for some reason, he radiated that sense of protection.

Later that day, you sat under a wide tree located in the middle of the village, Jungkook was standing at your left side, his eyes scanning the area like a hawk. You opened one of the bags you were gifted that a kind, older woman had given you. A smile was painted over your face when your eyes landed on the fish-shaped pastries you loved so much.

Jungkook looked down at you as you giggled softly and began eating the sweet treat.

"You can sit down, you know?"

You voiced out after having swallowed the pastry. When you looked up you found him already looking at you.

"And don't say "it's not proper" you can sit down and still keep me safe."

Jungkook sighed, of course it was not proper for him to sit next to you however, your care-free spirit slowly but surely got to him and he was about to crouch down on the floor next to you. But how could he? He was just your royal guard, people could misunderstand his actions for wanting something from you which wasn't true. He had one duty and that was to protect you at all costs but it seemed you were making it difficult with your soft aura and kind spirit and it was just the first day with this new job.

"No, Princess. I must stay here, I have a place next to you and that is as your royal guard."

Now it was your time to sigh, you knew he was right but was it really that harmful to just try to be friends with him? Perhaps he viewed it that way but you couldn't help it, you had been so alone your entire life that it was only natural for you to try and establish some kind of relationship in terms of friendship.

"I'm sorry. You are right."

With that, you stood up, not feeling in the mood to stay there any longer.

"You don't have to apologise, Princess. It is, after all, my job."

Another sigh escaped your lips as you began walking along the path that led to the palace. Jungkook following you from behind and he couldn't help but think how his action ruined the enthusiastic mood you were in some hours ago however, he knew it was necessary to set the boundaries since the very beginning otherwise something harmful could happen between him and you, the lonely princess who was destined to be queen and possessed a big heart.

When you were back at the palace, Jungkook made sure to escort you to your room but as you were about to enter the place, you turned to him and said, a soft smile over your lips though not as wide as when the both of you had parted from the royal grounds.

"Thank you for coming with me to the city."

He bowed down at you, not saying a word. When he straightened back up he was met with the sight of you holding a small bag towards him.

"You can have them, you looked like you wanted some of them. I won't be able to finish them all anyway."

Jungkook took the bag from your hand hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours for a split second before the contact was broken.

"I appreciate your generosity, Princess. Rest well."

You smiled a little wider at him, your hands clasping in front of you.

"You rest as well, Jungkook."

With that being said you entered your room, sliding the door shut. Only when Jungkook saw that you had closed the door did he begin walking back to his own room.

He let out a deep breath as he sat on the floor, the little bag you had given him before going back to your room was still in his hand and he couldn't help but open the small package. Surprised struck Jungkook when he saw the fish-shaped pastries inside. Had he been too obvious when he looked at you while you ate them? Maybe he was.

A soft smile adorned his handsome face as he took one out and began eating it. He had never before met you in person, he had never before been in your presence and certainly not that close as today but he couldn't deny that the Princess of Gyeongdong was a kind-hearted woman, blessed with her mother's beauty and her father's intelligence.

As he finished the pastry, he couldn't help but think that his words were a little harsh to you. You were only being friendly with him but he was afraid he could get you in trouble for such indecencies. But if you didn't mind him being that close to you, was it really a problem?

He recalled all the times he had seen you. From afar. And you always looked to be quite lonely for the future queen of Gyeongdong. You were always immersed in yourself and, even in those countable memories he had of you before he became your personal guard, your eyes seemed to sparkle when someone talked to you, when someone, anyone, brought you out of your little bubble of loneliness.

You had been extremely happy that morning when you got to know he was going to be accompanying you to the city and Jungkook couldn't describe the way your eyes had lit up when you found out he was going to be around you until you got married, maybe even after that.

Perhaps there was still time to change your perspective of him, maybe he could get you to open a bit to him. Yes, he was supposed to protect you but that didn't mean only physical harm but emotional pain too. If what you needed was some company afterall, he was more than capable of giving you that.

He would try, he had to. Jungkook couldn't picture you, the sweet Princess, not smiling at all. It was one of your many beautiful qualities. And maybe, he could be the person you needed to bring you out of your self-absorbed world.

Besides, he didn't intend to be involved with you, not even in friendship. So, was there a problem at all?

One Month Later

It was early in the morning when Jungkook found himself walking towards your room. His own bedroom was close to yours in case anything happened. Well, as close as it was proper for it to be. He made his way through a path he now knew by memory as every day, for the past month, he had waited for you outside of your room only to never leave your side throughout the day up until it was nighttime and the both of you had to part ways.

Jungkook could tell that you were now more relaxed in his presence than the beginning, even if you had seemed okay at first when he practically was glued to you, now it was so normal to you that you even felt strange in those rare moments when he wasn’t with you.

He also kept his own promise, he set the boundaries with you and the pair of you existed as just that, employer and employee. He was meant to protect, you were the one he needed to protect. That was it. Or at least that was what Jungkook told himself every night before going to sleep.

When he stopped by your room, he got surprised, nearly alarmed as you weren’t there and the door was opened. He cursed under his breath and turned around, already with some places in mind to search for you until he spotted one of the maids.

As he approached her, he noticed it was the woman who always helped you get dressed in the mornings, she also did your hair and makeup for the day.

"Excuse me, is Her Highness in the royal grounds? I just came here but she isn't in her room."

The damsel put down her basket that had in it clean, white sheets and replayed almost immediately as she could sense Jungkook's panic laced voice.

"She is in the practice grounds. Or at least that's what she commented this morning."

Jungkook thanked the kind maid before jogging off to the practice grounds of the palace.

The moment he arrived, he was met with a swishing sound across the air followed by a muttered curse. Peaking over through some bushes, Jungkook sighted you standing in the middle of the place, a bow in your left hand while the other held an arrow.

You were wearing a fine and beautiful dress with a white skirt and light pink top all made in expensive silk. Jungkook watched you shoot another arrow to the target mark, your eyes focused and you breathing even. Your posture could be improved but you had gotten the hang of it. He watched as you took a deep breath before letting go of the arrow and he couldn't help but watch not your actions but you.

He admired how beautiful you looked dressed in such fine clothes, with your hair styled to perfection and how you carried yourself. He watched how your left hand gripped the bow tightly up until your knuckles turned white, such delicate hands that he had seen holding unharmful items like a paintbrush or a book, were now holding a dangerous and powerful weapon, if used correctly.

As the arrow travelled through the air, time seemed to go in slow motion as he watched a couple of rebellious strands of hair fly slightly with the movement. But his trance was broken when the arrow landed a couple of feet away from the target mark, on the ground.

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you walked towards where other arrows rested. Ignoring the quantity of how many arrows you had already fired and now rested on the floor, you positioned the arrow in your bow and prepared yourself to fire it.

"You need to relax, Princess."

The sudden voice said from behind you startled you causing the arrow to fall on the ground before you even had the chance to fire it. A gasp escaped your lips as you turned around only to be met with Jungkook who approached your figure with calculated steps.

He was wearing his usual uniform in a deep shade of blue, a sword attached to a belt that hugged his waist but something about his presence that morning intrigued you.

"You scared me."

Was your statement once he stood at arms length. He looked down at you and you held his strong gaze.

"I apologise, Your Highness. I didn't mean to."

You relaxed and let out a defeated sigh.

"You have good skills but your posture can be improved."

At Jungkook's words you lifted your gaze, meeting his dark brown eyes with your own once more. He gestured towards your bow with his chin and asked, his voice gentle like a summer breeze.

"May I?"

You nodded, handing him your bow. The warmth of his fingers brushed yours and you had to bite back a smile. He crouched down and picked up the arrow that had fallen from your grasp a moment ago.

Jungkook positioned himself and you watched his every move.

"You are too tense while holding the bow, if your hold is firm but at the same time gentle it will give you stability."

You listened carefully to his explanations as your eyes were glued to him and for the first time since he became your personal guard were you able to admire him. Properly admire him.

Your gaze landed on his focused face, on how his eyes were put on the target mark and nothing else. Then, you travelled to his lips and marvelled on the way he was pulling back the arrow until it touched the corner of his lips softly. His jawline was defined as if it had been sculpted by the gods.

His broad shoulders carried years of training and you could see how his muscles could be traced even with more than one layer of clothing. His veiny hands held the bow and the arrow with expertise and you found yourself trapped in a trance in which only Jungkook existed.

He fired the arrow, hitting the target in its centre. You looked amazed at the clean shot he did and he commented, giving you back your bow.

"Would you like to try again, Princess?"

You nodded and took the bow. Jungkook walked where the rest of the arrows were and picked one up. He handed it to you and you took it softly from his grasp. You positioned the arrow and prepared yourself to shoot.

You silently gasped when you felt a large hand over your left one, the one holding the bow and it took you less than a second to realise it was Jungkook who was guiding you. You smelled his scent from behind you and felt the light pressure of his body at your back but it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary, you felt safe being this close to him. It was... Soothing, to say the least.

"You need to relax your hand a bit more."

Following his instructions, he smiled.

"Good, now take a deep breath. Straighten up a bit more and concentrate."

You did as you were told, closing your eyes and relishing in the comfort Jungkook provided. The warm feeling of his hand over yours was nearly overwhelming. The moment you opened your eyes again, the only thing you could focus on was on the target. Letting go of the arrow, it travelled through the air with a mute noise and landed directly on the mark.

A gasp left your lips and Jungkook let go of your hand just as you turned around and looked up at him. Your smile showed pure happiness, a happiness he was responsible for and for some reason, that settled a spark of proudness in his chest.

"I wasn't aware that you knew archery."

He lifted an eyebrow, almost in a teasing way.

"I am a royal guard, Princess. Of course I know how to shoot an arrow."

You laughed at his words. Stupid, of course he would know that. You scolded yourself inwardly, thoughts masked by a soft smile.

"Do you have any plans for today, My Lady?"

His question brought you out of your embarrassing state and you let out a sigh upon remembering what you had to do today.

"Not much really. I don't think I'll be able to visit the city today. The King ordered a seamstress to make a new dress for me, for my birthday ceremony."

Jungkook nodded, walking to a nearby bench only for then to sit down, all while keeping an eye on you as you practised your archery skills for a little more time.

"Isn't your birthday in autumn, Princess?"

You looked up at Jungkook while he kept his gaze glued to the front.

"Yes but the King prepares everything with so much anticipation as you may already know, the day I was born was when other events occurred at the same time like the Queen's passing and Gyeongdong's victory against the Jejin kingdom in the north."

He looked down at you only to lock his eyes with you and he was able to read the sadness behind your explanation. Jungkook couldn't imagine just how lonely your life had been, with your mother dying in childbirth and formally meeting your father when you were three when he returned from the war.

He knew you suffered as a child even when you were the Princess and had access to whatever you wanted at any time of the day. A lonely girl with a planned future. He knew you were to become Queen in winter, the ceremony occurring the same day as your wedding day was scheduled.

"Have you ever met him?"

His question made you blink, parting your gaze from his penetrating brown orbs.

"No. I've never met the Prince I was promised in marriage. But I guess that's how arranged marriages work, don't they?"

A humourless chuckle followed your words and Jungkook could easily tell that you didn't want to get married, at least not in this way.

When the both of you arrived to where the seamstress was waiting for you, Jungkook stood in the farthest corner of the room making himself invisible as the kind lady began taking your measurements and explained to you what kind of fabrics you were allowed to wear for your wedding day.

You picked everything with a dull expression, already tired of all the wedding preparations. Your eyes drifted here and there toward Jungkook, secretly hoping that he would also look at you but his gaze was lost in the place. He kept his head low and never did he make it for you both to lock eyes, even when he felt your gaze over him from time to time.

-ambience-

"Hobi, are you alright? I haven't seen you for nearly two weeks!"

You whispered-shouted at your best friend. It was early in the morning, so early that the sun wasn't out yet, the sky was still dark and silence drowned the palace. You stood outside of your room still wearing your sleeping clothes, your bare feet touching the fresh grass as Hoseok had woken you at such an hour saying that there was something important he needed to tell you.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me, Princess. There's something you need to know,"

Even in the darkness, with the only source of light being a small paper lantern he carried in his left hand, you could see the seriousness behind Hoseok's words, whatever he was about to tell you was, indeed, important.

You signalled him to continue and he said, his tone low, words carried with the hot summer breeze of the early hours.

"I've been away for sometime because I travelled with my father to the North. As you may know, the news of your wedding with the Prince of the Park family had reached every town of the country but suspicious activity was reported to His Majesty a month ago."

Now that was definitely urgent for you to know. There was someone that was organising something. Something bad.

"That's where Jejin was situated before my father conquered it, isn't it?"

Hobi nodded, his usually cheerful eyes now filled with worry. Worry for you, his best friend. For Gyeongdong and for his family. The possibility of war had increased and if the problem didn't get solved not only the royal family would be in danger but all the innocent citizens of Gyeongdong.

"His Majesty suspects that a rebellious group is taking Jejin's place, trying to take the throne which also means stopping your wedding, Princess. The King also believes that the group is being controlled by one of the Ministers."

Your eyes went wide when you heard the last sentence. Was truly a traitor sitting in front of the King in his own palace? You looked around you, suddenly feeling insecure about being in your own room. You realised then that Hobi had spoken of such secret information outside of your room, in the gardens. What if someone heard?

"Let's go inside, it's dangerous for you to be telling me this in the gardens."

Hoseok shook his head, his worried eyes never leaving your figure.

"No, Princess. That would look suspicious if anyone had their eyes on us right now. I only came here tonight to give you fish-shaped pastries."

His words were whispered, even when in the silence you feared they could be heard. The next thing you knew was that he was giving you a package covered by soft fabric, just like every other time he had given you sweets. A forced smile was latched onto his face, trying to make this look as normal as possible.

You eyes the package and slowly took it from his grasp.

"Smile, Princess. I just gave you your favourite treat. Smile and go back to your room and keep smiling until you close the door."

His instructions were said between clenched teeth and airy words, all while keeping the gentle look on his face. You did as instructed though Hobi could tell you were scared, it was reflected in your eyes.

"Thank you for the pastries, you know how much I like them."

With that said, you turned around and walked to your room, your smile never leaving your face. Once in the privacy of your quarters, you sat down on the floor while processing everything Hoseok just said to you.

A traitor.

A traitor in the court.

Marriage.

Jejin.

Traitor.

Danger.

Possibility of war

A traitor.

Your mind kept swirling around those words, not grasping the fact that there was someone who didn't want you to become Queen, who didn't want your father's bloodline to stay on the throne.

You looked at the package Hobi gave you, something inside you telling you that what was inside it were not fish-shaped pastries. You untied the fabric and pulled out the box only to find a letter there. Without giving it much thought, you unfolded it and quickly recognised Hoseok's handwriting.

Princess, there wasn't enough time for me to tell you this but you need to be careful. Captain Yoongi informed me that you now have a personal royal guard to keep you safe, that's good. You can trust him, he is a good man.

You need to stay alert, don't trust anyone other than His Majesty, Captain Yoongi, my father, me and of course Jungkook. He'll keep you safe.

I wish I could tell you everything's going to be alright but I can't be sure, at least not now. You cannot be alone now, please. Stay close to Jungkook, it's for your own safety.

Hobi.

That letter was the last piece of information you needed for realisation to fall upon you. Whatever was happening was dangerous and it threatened your safety.

You felt a sudden urge to go to Jungkook, be near him. He made you feel safe and now, when things could get difficult, for some reason he grounded you from your own thoughts and fears. You could trust him, you knew that since day one. He was going to protect you and that night, you slept with the vow he made to your father about keeping you safe. You were aware that no harm would ever fall over you as long as he was with you.

However, little did you know someone had seen your entire interaction with Hoseok in the gardens. Someone hiding behind the bushes in the darkness of the early morning.

Jungkook rowed the small boat to cross the lake. You sat opposite him, your expression bored as you leaned over one of the edges, your arm supporting your head while your eyes were glued to the crystalline water.

You had barely talked since he went to your room that morning, the usual spark in your eyes was gone, leaving empty yet still beautiful (e/c) orbs behind. You didn't smile as brightly as before, your smile carried a sadness with it, a sorrow.

He wanted to ask you what was wrong, he wanted to know. A part of him needed to know. Jungkook didn't know why he was having such strong needs, such emotions. He was only meant to protect you, to keep you away from harm and that included any type of harm.

Suddenly, he stopped rowing but that didn't make you look up from your lost gaze in the waters.

"Princess,"

You hummed when you heard Jungkook speak to you though you didn't look at him, your eyes continuing to gaze down at the waters below.

"may I ask you a question?"

"You already did."

Was your response. It was dull, something in it ached in between the words. It wasn't normal of you, for as long as Jungkook himself could tell. He sighed, before speaking again.

"Are you alright?"

You blinked when he asked that as you rose yourself from your leaning position over the edge to finally look at your personal guard. Your eyes carried something he had never seen before.

Worry.

It was crystal clear, at least to Jungkook. You were worried about something and, for some strange reason, a reason he didn't know, it worried him too to see you like this. It physically pained him to see you, the care-free and sweet Princess in such a sour mood. Carrying such heavy weights over your shoulders.

You didn't say anything, you couldn't. You were scared, you were worried for the kingdom, for your father, for Hobi, for yourself, for your life. It was too much. Too much to process in a single morning. Too much information that it overwhelmed you to the point of tears watering your eyes.

"Is it something about what the counsellor's son told you this morning?"

You gasped at his statement. Jungkook wasn't going to deny it. Yes, he had seen your interaction with Hoseok that very morning, he had seen the way you smiled when he gave you a small package, even when the gardens were drowning in the darkness of the early hours of the day, he could tell you were smiling thanks to the small source of light that was Hoseok's lantern.

"You didn't have the right to do that. You are my royal guard but you can't invade my privacy like that!"

The way you raised your voice at the end made him mentally curse himself. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that.

"I'm sorry, Princess. It was an accident. I didn't mean to spy on you."

You narrowed your eyes at him, somehow deep within you, you knew he was telling the truth but you didn't want to believe him, you didn't want to slide it off. He had invaded your privacy and that was out of the line.

"He went there to give me my pastries. You know I'm not allowed to eat them until my wedding day. Hoseok is my best friend but of course I don't have to give you any explanation of my decisions. You are meant to do a job so just... just do it. Stop trying to always make me happy, life is not like that! Stop it, just... stop it. Please."

Your words crushed his heart, not because of what you said to him but because they only proved his beliefs, something had happened, something that was hurting you.

"You only have to do what you were told to do. You don´t have to care for me, not in this way. You are asking if I'm alright and as you can see, I'm not physically hurt so stop caring so much, you don't have to do it."

The look he gave you the next second was enough for you to know that your words, even though they were cruel, had gotten to him. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes and you did your utmost to blink them back. Jungkook stared at you, his jaw clenched and you felt like he wanted to say so many things to you but he was refraining himself.

His eyes bored themselves into yours and in that moment you wished the water would swallow you completely so that you wouldn't face him.

That's good. You have to stay away. You have to stay away from me so that you can't get hurt. Please, Jungkook. Just back off.

You thought to yourself as you continued to watch each other. The atmosphere tensing.

"But... what if I care?"

A tear rolled down your cheek slowly. No, please don't say that. Please... He ran a hand through his hair and looked back at you.

"I care for you, Princess."

You closed your eyes, letting the tears freely fall down your cheeks.

"You can't."

Whispered words reached his ears. Making his heart shake with the need to hold you, promise you that it was going to be alright.

"But I do."

You opened your eyes, looking at Jungkook through blurry vision. His eyes were filled with tears and you felt an ache in your heart at the sight of his tears.

"You weren't supposed to. You were only meant to protect me, Jungkook. That's it, nothing else."

He sighed, his eyes lowering to your trembling hands resting on your lap. He had a sudden urge to hold them. To hold you. To comfort you.

"I know. Love is blind, Princess. No-one gets to choose."

You took a shaky breath, calming yourself a bit only for him to continue.

"I'm sorry, this is all my fault. I'll... I'll accept the punishment for my actions, Your Highness."

He lowered his head, ready to accept whatever consequences there were for his actions. In that moment, Jungkook realised you were untouchable, the forbidden fruit he had come to desire, an expensive and beautiful jewel he could never have.

"No."

At that, he lifted his gaze and looked at you who gazed at him with such hurt in your eyes it forced him to swallow the lump in his throat.

"You are not getting punished for this. No-one should. It... It just happened and I couldn't... I wouldn't be able to see you go."

A tear left his eye, rolling down his cheek while leaving a wet trail over his honey skin.

"I care for you too, Jungkook."

That was the moment the seasons changed. The warm days were over and both you and Jungkook knew that. It was forbidden, it was socially unacceptable, a disgrace.

You were engaged, the Princess who was going to become Queen while he was only your personal guard. Meant to protect you of any harm. But he was just that, a royal guard. A handsome middle-class man caring way more than needed for you, King Lee's only daughter.

He, as well as you, were aware that colder days were to come soon. And just like that, with simple words that revealed each other's heart, the summer days were over.

Four Seasons Taglist: @seokout

May 28/2023

Likes, Reblogs & Comments are really appreciated!!!

~Masterpost

185 notes · View notes

jazlynriddle · 18 days ago

Text

Welcome to your life - Pt 3:

It's My Own Design Ch 18:

Summary:

Ominis fought to control his expression, to keep his hands from trembling. Five years. Five years since he'd seen his parents, and this. This was the reason they'd given him the honour of their time? This was the reason they'd sought him out at Hogwarts?

The bitterness welling up within him was thick enough to gag on.

New year, new allies, new responsibilities, new avenues of revenue, and new aspects of their own Ancient Magic to explore. As the Keeper and their partners enter their last year at Hogwarts, it remains to be seen if the new school year will bring with it new problems or adversaries, but they are confident in the strength of their relationship with Sebastian and Ominis. The three of them would endure, no matter what befell them.

And if they were wrong?

What a joke, they would suffer no alternative.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Depictions of death and poor living conditions, and a very very very unreliable narrator that uses a lot of slurs and vulgarities x’)

Almost 10.7k words, good lord, it's supposed to be going down not up! TvT

I'm sure, last chapter, the emotional drama took the front seat strongly enough to overshadow Tobbs’ owner being put up on the chopping block, but I hope ya'll were excited for some torture of the man responsible for what was probably the darkest quest after Sebastian's Shadow questline.

Also, I know the Romani people were referred to during the 1890s with the slur “gypsies”, due to the misconception that they were from Egypt, but there’s already going to be a lot of very disgusting sexist slurs in this chapter too, (I deeply apologise for that in advance OTL) so I didn’t use the word gypsy. Please forgive the historical inaccuracy there, but I feel really gross after writing so many slurs and I didn’t want to put one into the Keeper’s mouth too.

Also, this chapter's end notes are monstrously long.

Now, I usually say you can skip my notes, but for this chapter and the next, please read the end notes. I do not want these two chapters misunderstood.

Aaand I'm about to be absolutely swamped so I'll need to skip an upload again. My next two weeks are completely full- x’) So, the next chapter will go up in 4 weeks time! Sorry!

“If I'm reading this right, we should take that path a mile further.” Sebastian lowered the map that he'd been scrutinising and gestured towards a rather dark and dirty alley, just off to the side of the road.

Nodding, the Keeper turned their gaze from the rather beautifully designed, snow coated park in the middle of the bustling city and led Sebastian down into the alley. So far, what they'd seen of Edinburgh's Princes Street Gardens had been quite lovely, but from the looks of this alleyway, the Rogue guild was situated within the Old Town, in other words, the slums.

Unsurprising in all honesty, their line of work did best in the shadows and in the wake of suffering.

The Old Town slums themselves were... not so different from what the Keeper was used to, back in London. While the buildings were much older, taller and a bit less disorganised than the haphazardly scattered houses in their hometown, the atmosphere was remarkably nostalgic in the worst possible way.

The black sludge of sticky ash mudded snow clung to their boots and dragged at the hems of their cloak, visible even under the late afternoon light. While it was some mercy that the cloud of smoke in these slums wasn't quite as suffocating as London's, each breath still came with the burning remnants of open fires, and they could hear Sebastian coughing every so often.

Between the accompanying stench of rotting dung, flesh and water, and streets littered with the ill and the poor, the Keeper was quite glad to have placed a sticking charm on their satchel, to keep it attached to their side. They would hate to drop it into the filthy muck or have it stolen or pickpocketed.

As they walked, Sebastian seemed to become increasingly horrified by the conditions, and his steps soon halted, staring at what appeared to be the frozen corpses of four children tucked in an alcove between two buildings.

Noticing this, the Keeper backtracked to stand by him. “Sebastian?”

“Is no one going to...” Sebastian murmured, casting his incredulous gaze about the street, watching as a hazy eyed man stumbled past with a bottle in hand, not even blinking at the sight.

“Love.” The Keeper placed a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, drawing his gaze as they spoke. “We shouldn't linger. Not in a place like this.”

Sebastian's eyes were dark and almost haunted as he stared at them, and it was easy to guess what was on his mind.

“Don't think about that.” The Keeper shook their head. “I'm alive, I'm here.”

“...you lived like this... for fourteen years.” Sebastian's jaw was tight, and his brow furrowed.

“And I'd rather forget it.” The Keeper chuckled wryly.

“Can you?”

“I can try.” They shrugged. “Come on.”

The Keeper continued down the path but had only taken a few steps when a woman with heavy makeup, and far too little clothing for this weather, sidled up to Sebastian's side, cooing sweetly. “Left on your lonesome, handsome? I know how to take care of a young gent like you.”

Sebastian stood stiffly, as her shoulder brushed up against his, a look of consternation on his face, and the Keeper huffed irritably, vultures the lot of them, though this presented a fine opportunity.

“I-” Sebastian stepped away from her with a guilty expression.

“Am taken.” The Keeper finished for him, approaching the prostitute. “But I have a counteroffer for you. Have you seen this man ‘round these parts?”

The Keeper presented her with the photo of Frederick Taylor that their contractor had provided, having already folded the picture to hide the house elf.

The prostitute squinted at the frozen image for a thoughtful moment. “Think so, looks rather familiar. Might have seen the bloke entering that odd pub down the road a time or two.”

“The Rowdy Rogue?” The Keeper asked as they tucked the picture away.

She nodded. “Aye, tha'd be the one.”

“My thanks, here's a small token of appreciation.” Nodding, the Keeper fished a handful of muggle pennies out of their satchel, that they'd prepared for information gathering, and dropped them in her hand. That should be enough to pay for a few meals and perhaps even a coat.

Taking the money with a delighted smile, she winked. “Should you be wantin’ anythin’ else, don't be a stranger, love.”

With that, the prostitute sashayed past the Keeper, running a hand down their arm meaningfully as she left.

Snorting, they returned their attention to Sebastian, who still looked troubled. “What is it, Sebastian?”

“You-” His voice cracked. “Did you have to do that too?”

“Proposition strangers?” They asked and he gave them a discomforted nod. “Not quite, I was already...”

A bitter smile stretched across their face.

“...property when I started that, well, line of work.”

The look of pain on his face caught them off guard, and in the next moment, the Keeper found themselves in his firm embrace. They could feel his hands tremble, gripped tight around their shoulders, his chest warm against theirs and his breath shaky by their ear, warming their cheek and rising in a plume of white.

Was it anger? Sorrow? Fear? They wondered what he was feeling, stroked a hand over his hair soothingly, while he clutched at them as though they too would dissipate like vapour if he let go.

Several minutes passed this way, before his grip finally loosened and they touched his cheek gently. “Feeling better?”

He nodded mutely, before his gaze returned to the bodies of the children. “I know we have work to do, but can we do something for them?”

The Keeper gave him a fond, if bewildered smile, what a strange thing to say. The children were dead, what could the living possibly do for those that were no longer here?

“I don't see why not, but what have you in mind?” They asked, when they failed to think of anything.

Sebastian cast his eyes about with an uncertain frown. “...it's cold out here.”

Cold? They were dea- ah, I see. Understanding, the Keeper nodded. “Of course. I don't think we can bury them in the middle of the city, but I can spare them the indignity.”

When he nodded, they glanced about to make sure no one was watching, before taking a sip of energy from their armlet and, drawing their wand, the Keeper cast a high-powered Evanesco at the bodies of the children, vanishing them in a flash of red.

“Were that we could do more.” Sebastian murmured grimly as they holstered their wand again.

“Some problems can be alleviated by the kindness of the privileged and the common people, but such on this scale can only truly be resolved by kings. Alas, we are neither kings nor kingmakers.” The Keeper shook their head and took Sebastian's hand in theirs. “Come, it does little to carry the burdens of others, when doing so doesn't lighten it for them.”

Nodding again, Sebastian allowed them to pull him from that place, as the snow began to fall, covering the empty spaces with a fresh layer of white.

Their walk continued in subdued silence for several minutes more, before they arrived at a rather respectable looking establishment. No surprise, considering that its clientele were wizardkind, rather than the impoverished muggles that populated this part of the city.

The note Alasdair had given them listed the Rowdy Rogue's opening hours from ten in the night till six in the morning, but the Keeper was, again unsurprised, that it was open anyway, since it likely had a regular business outside guild hours. Much like how the Phantom's Flask was an inn during the day.

They'd originally intended to just scope out the place before coming back in the night, but if the target conveniently frequented the bar, they might as well ask around.

So, they pushed open the rustic door and slipped inside with Sebastian, finding said inside to be just as rustic in decor. Not unappealing, but they much preferred the Phantom's sleek design. Their chosen chair squeaked as they took a seat, and the Keeper wondered why so many of them looked new, while the rest of the furniture appeared as old as the building.

And why were the tables bolted to the floor?

“Hey.” Sebastian tugged on their sleeve. “Well, would you look at that.”

He gestured across the sparsely populated pub, to the waitress, a woman who looked incredibly familiar, frowning intently down at a notepad. None other than the woman who'd survived her stint as a guest of Dìon. The first, and likely, last.

The Keeper chuckled. “Well, I'll be damned. Who would've thought we'd meet her here, of all places.”

“And isn't that the man who found her?” Sebastian nodded at the middle-aged bartender as he poked the woman in the arm, startling her out of her focus and nudging her towards the Keeper's table encouragingly.

“Looks like.” The Keeper agreed, wondering if the bartender was guildmaster Gilfred, as the familiar waitress came to their table.

“...hi, it's um, been a while since we've had someone new here, w- what can I get you? Butterbeers or- or perhaps something to eat?” The waitress asked with a nervous smile, an earnest air about her that made her look younger than they'd ever seen, or perhaps simply more innocent.

“Butterbeers would be sufficient, we're looking for someone actually. Frederick Taylor, I have something to pass to him.” The Keeper answered. “He mentioned coming here when last we spoke, so I was hoping we'd be able to find him if we dropped by.”

“Fred? Yeah, he's a regular, comes by for dinner and drinks sometimes. If you stop by around five tomorrow, he'll probably show up.” The woman nodded absently, before scurrying back to the bar counter without another word.

She spoke with the bartender, who gave her a fond smile and said a few words, before passing her a pair of full mugs.

Returning to Sebastian and the Keeper, with their drinks, she gave them another nervous smile. “You sure I can't tempt you with something to eat? James makes the best fish and chips south of Nor Loch.”

“James?” Sebastian echoed, a wry and bemused smile on his face as he and the Keeper accepted their mugs.

“Yes, the, erm, bartender, he sort of owns this establishment.” The woman gestured vaguely towards the bartender and the Keeper hummed thoughtfully. They supposed that while Alasdair was both owner of the Phantom's Flask and guildmaster of the Phantoms, that wasn't necessarily the case elsewhere.

It might not be a bad idea to hang around a little longer, even if it was already six. Sebastian could probably use a break from the bleak setting outside the pub, and they'd already acquired a means of finding their target, they might as well ask some questions and see what they could find out.

Besides, they were admittedly a tad curious what the woman was doing with her second life.

“Why not, we can share a plate. How long have you been working here?” The Keeper asked, taking a sip from their mug. They were well aware how long she'd been here, but it felt like a reasonable question for a stranger to ask.

“Not very long.” She answered, her eyes soft and a more natural smile forming on her face, and it felt rather surreal to see such a pleasant expression on the previously sour-faced woman. “I started working for James here about a year ago, he helped me out ‘n took me in when I was at my lowest in... well, I suppose, in memory.”

The Keeper just barely managed to avoid inhaling their butterbeer, but Sebastian was less lucky and spent the next few moments coughing.

“Everything alright here, Eliza?” Came a deep voice from behind the woman, and the bartender, who the Keeper could have sworn was at the bar a moment ago, appeared, giving her a concerned smile.

“I- yes, um.” The woman, who it seemed had taken on the name Eliza, shifted awkwardly on the spot and a blush crept up her neck.

“We were just curious about the pub and my boyfriend swallowed down the wrong pipe.” The Keeper chuckled, and now Sebastian was going red too.

James gave them an amused smile. “Happens to the best of us, if you'd like some water, just let us know. As for the pub, it's been in the family for years. My younger brother, Gilfred, handles the place during the night.”

So, the guildmaster was a younger sibling, interesting. The Keeper had thought it normally the case for the eldest to inherit family trades, though they supposed the brothers could have had different interests, and their parents had respected that. It was always kind of nice to see people who had nice families, assuming that was the case.

“I think some water would be appreciated.” The Keeper nodded. “Eliza was just telling us about your renowned fish and chips, and I think we can share a plate.”

“Wonderful! I assure you that you won't regret it!” James beamed, placing a gentle hand on Eliza's shoulder and whispering in her ear. “Nice work.”

“T- thank you...” She lowered her head till he'd turned away, and watched him with an adoring smile as he returned to the bar counter, before she seemed to remember herself and returned her attention to their table. “Um, I'll go get some water.”

Eliza scurried off again and Sebastian let out a sigh, drawing a curious glance from the Keeper. “Alright there, love?”

“Yes, it just- it feels rather silly. She's got a second chance, and she isn't just going for it.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Life's too short to be dancing around when he seems to like her too.”

“Says the one who pined after Ominis for three whole years.” The Keeper snorted and his face went red again. “Besides, she was a recluse, raised alone in the woods. Even after her memory got wiped, I doubt it'd magically make her good with people.”

“Well, Ominis is different-” Sebastian paused as Eliza returned with a cup of water for him as well as a plate of freshly fried fish and potato strips, before continuing when she'd left. “I mean, I didn't want to push, he was really awkward at first. Like her I guess... and he did say he fell in love earlier than me.”

Sebastian's expression became thoughtful, and he took a drink of water to flush his throat before continuing. “I wonder why he didn't turn out all surly like she did. It's not like his family was good. In contrast Eliza seems to have loved her father a lot, so I doubt he was a shit dad.”

“There's probably more than just nurture and environment that play a role in determining a person's personality as they grow up. Nature has an impact too.” The Keeper murmured as they set to cutting up the fish. “His blindness is a sensory experience that his family doesn't inherently understand, so unless they care enough to try, communicating with him would be more difficult.”

“Making brainwashing him harder.” Sebastian nodded, popping a chip into his mouth. “I guess it would have the same effect if the parents were just too busy to guide the kid, maybe that's what went wrong with Eliza, her dad was her only caregiver after all.”

“Seeing bad things happen to good people can make a person bitter too. As would seeing people continuously get away with evil deeds.” The Keeper gave a wry smile as they speared a piece of fish on their fork and offered it to him.

At his curious tilt of the head, they elaborated. “Eliza might have become disillusioned and ceased to believe that there are reasons to be good or kind. While Ominis, powerless as he was and regretful of his casting of the Cruciatus, longed to believe that there is an inherent universal law that actions always have consequences. That his family would also come to regret what they'd done. That there is a justice that comes about naturally.”

Sebastian accepted the bite as they spoke, enjoying the crunchiness of the fried batter and the rich flavour as he thought back to Ominis’ behaviour yesterday.

“And that's why he believes in things people ‘should’ and ‘shouldn't’, and justice but never actually does anything to bring said justice about. He thinks it'll just happen on its own, like a force of nature that ought to be.” Sebastian paused. “I think there's a word for that, Amit called it ‘karma’.”

“Is that so... Well, yes, and that's also why Ominis doesn't want the people he loves to do bad things.” The Keeper added, taking a bite of the fish as well. “After all, karma will fuck you up if you do ‘bad shit’.”

Sebastian sighed. “So, he'll never really do anything about injustice, because he thinks he can’t make any difference even if he tried, but still be anxious about those he loves doing ‘bad’ things.”

“Indeed, and such anxiety piles up, till he can’t help but lash out towards said loved ones and hurt them. Though I'm not entirely certain where his confidence in karma comes from. Normally one would instead think the opposite, after seeing his family get away with so much use of dark magic.” The Keeper gave him an amused smile when Sebastian opened his mouth in demand for more food. “Perhaps his idea of good and bad might be influenced by his aunt Noctua's beliefs - whatever they were - since she was the one who was kindest to him.”

Happily accepting another bite, Sebastian nodded absently. “Could be, I wonder if that's why he seemed to open up to Anne. She was always rather outspoken for a Slytherin, kind of like Natty.”

“Oh?” The Keeper's head tilted to the side curiously, wondering as they continued to eat and feed him occasionally, if Sebastian knew that she was supposed to have been a Gryffindor.

“Yeah, it was a month after school started, a bunch of our older housemates were bullying a half-blood and goading Ominis to join them. Anne charged over to stop them.” Sebastian explained with a grin, recalling the moment fondly.

Come on, surely the heir of Slytherin knows some good curses!

Show us what you've got, Gaunt!

...I'd really rather not...

Hey! You three, cut that out or I'll tell Professor Sharp!

Ha! A first-year wench wants to fight us?

How cute... heh heh...

Oi! Touch my sister, and I'll put you lot in the infirmary!

“Though, a prefect came along and somehow or other, we all got a detention for fighting. We served it with Ominis, and he became our friend after that.” Sebastian chuckled, recalling how offended the shy and quiet Ominis had looked, at Sebastian’s first thoughtless comment.

I'm surprised you didn't go along with them, didn't think you'd have the balls for that.

...I find that type of thing abhorrent...

Ah- what I mean is, I- well, I thought it was pretty brave. Not letting them push you around.

...brave? Me?

Y- yeah, you're normally so quiet. Not- not that that's bad, it's, well-

It's nice to have someone else in this house who hates bullying! I'm Anne, and this bumbling oaf is my twin brother, Sebastian.

...Ominis...

“He was so pretty and shy, it was all I could do to not trip on my tongue when we first started hanging out.” Sebastian laughed, accepting another bite from the Keeper before continuing. “Anne had to do most of the work getting him to relax around us at the start.”

“How'd he end up staying with you in Feldcroft?” The Keeper asked curiously, having wondered about that for quite a while.

“It was a bit of an accident. We were waiting for Anne to join us, and he just seemed so depressed about going home for the winter holidays, I kind of blurted out an invitation before I could think it through.” Sebastian grinned sheepishly. “Anne chewed me out for doing that before getting permission from Solomon.”

Sebastian! You can't just say that, what if Uncle Solomon says no?

Well, he can suck a-

Sebastian!

...it's fine, Sebastian, I don't want you to get in trouble for me...

You're worth it.

...!

I'll do whatever Uncle Solomon wants if he'll let Ominis stay.

Ugh, I'm not helping you if Uncle gets mad that you went over his head again.

“I got my uncle to agree in the end, after a long lecture about who owns the bloody cottage. Had to agree to do all the yard work for the entire holiday.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Probably helped that Ominis was quiet and obedient, and his parents sent him more money than he needed, so Solomon never had to pay for him, even when Ominis finally decided that he was never going back."

...Sebastian, could you- could you read the letter for me?

Er, you sure, Ominis? Al- alright...

Well? What did his parents say, Seb?

Um... well, they say that, if he's not coming home... to at least dress as fitting for one of the noble House of Gaunt... so as not to bring shame to the family name...

Are you serious, Sebastian? That's all they said? Ominis refuses to go home and that's all they have to say? What awful parents! How could they!? Terrible people! Aaaarrgh! Don't they care about him!?

...

It's fine, isn't it? You don't need them, Ominis. You have us. Anne and I, we're your family now.

...!

He still remembered how Ominis had felt, tiny fists in his shirt, tears in those beautiful pale eyes, trembling in his arms. Almost seven years ago and again yesterday morning. The more things changed, the more they also stayed the same, it seemed.

I- Sebastian... thank you.

The Keeper gave him a wry smile, inviting Ominis without permission and just barrelling through everything in his way, how very like Sebastian. “I imagine spending time around your uncle probably cemented Ominis’ simplistic ideas of right and wrong.”

Sebastian snorted, his voice slightly bitter. “No kidding, I guess Anne did too.”

“You certainly didn't, any ideas why that might be?” The Keeper asked curiously.

Sebastian wore a thoughtful expression for a few moments. “Maybe it's because I read our parents’ books.”

“Books?”

“Yeah, they were professors, and they published a few research journals on the origins of magic before the accident.” Sebastian beamed proudly, before it became sad. “We were eight when they died... Anne found their books too difficult and painful to read, but I wanted to understand them better.”

“So you studied so that you could appreciate their lives’ work.” The Keeper chuckled, that explained a lot.

“I suppose you could put it that way.” He grinned. “They were convinced that all magic was born from the same source, and it was the will of wizardkind that shaped it.”

“Sounds reasonable, Fig said something similar too. Magic is no different from any power, what matters is the one who wields it.” The Keeper mused as they fed him the last chip. “That's why it matters who is given power, more than the power itself.”

“Exactly.” Sebastian nodded, chasing the strip of potato with the rest of his butterbeer. “Uncle Solomon didn't agree though, he fought with dad a lot over that. Heard them arguing once when I couldn't sleep, something about their research being useful to the Aurors. I don't really remember why, but I think dad didn't want to give it to them.”

“Considering how shit the ministry is, I'm not particularly surprised.” The Keeper snorted as they finished their mug too. “Your parents sound like they were wise and brilliant people.”

They smiled when his face lit up. “Like you.”

Cheeks flushed with happiness, Sebastian grinned. “Never thought anyone would ever call me wise.”

“Wisdom comes with growth, and I think you've done a lot of it in the last few years.” The Keeper chuckled, waving Eliza over to pay for the meal. “Thank you for the recommendation, Eliza, the food was lovely.”

The woman wore a delighted smile as she accepted the coins and waved the two off. “Hope to see you again!”

The windows of the Rowdy Rogue were closed and there was no indication that the establishment was even open, aside from the occasional rugged looking individual entering or leaving. Under their hood, the Keeper glanced about the dimly lit street, the few lamps barely illuminating the dirty floor beneath their feet.

Slipping their Phantoms mask over their face, the Keeper entered the building and was immediately struck by how loud it was. Unlike the Phantom's Flask, the tavern was brightly lit, and in place of low murmurs were shouts, full-belly laughs and the occasional cheers as patrons exchanged bets over a pair, arm wrestling at one of the tables.

Rowdy indeed.

To their confusion, the bartender was an elderly looking lady with the darker olive skin of the Romani population, and long white hair in a loose braid, probably not guildmaster Gilfred then. Lowering their hood, the Keeper made their way to the bar, dodging the blind swings of several arms as the patrons gestured animatedly in their conversations.

When they finally made it to the bar, the Keeper spared a glance at the man sitting at it, his head resting on the counter, before asking the bartender. “Lookin’ for guildmaster Gilfred.”

The bartender gave them a lopsided grin and she promptly smacked the sleeping man on the back of the head. “Git up, son.”

“Wha-” The red-faced man with equally olive skin and rusty brown hair blinked a few times, before blinking blearily at the Keeper. “An’ whadda ya want?”

The Keeper was speechless for a moment, this was the guildmaster? Well, they could see the resemblance to his brother James, though he'd clearly inherited more of his mother's looks and speech.

“Ugh, ‘ang on. I needa drink.” The young man groaned. “Ma, gimmie a pint.”

The elderly woman rolled her eyes, but got him a large mug anyway, which he downed fast enough that even Faun would likely be impressed.

“Ah! Much bet'er.” He slammed the mug on the counter with a satisfied sigh, before turning to the Keeper and slurring. “Now whaddya want kid? Ol’ Al bet’er not've sent ya ta ask a fav'or.”

The Keeper snorted, well, if nobody was even trying to put on airs here, they'd stand out more if they did.

“Nothin’ o’ the sort.” It almost felt weird to slip back into speaking this way after all these years. “Just wanted ta give ya a ‘eads up. I'll be doin’ some business in these ‘ere parts.”

“O’ yea?” Gilfred hiccupped, giving them a lopsided grin that looked just like his mother's. “Whacha doin’? An’ hit piece?”

“A disappearin’.” The Keeper answered with an amused shrug, what a strange guildmaster. “Nothin’ more, like’as not.”

“Ha!” Gilfred barked a laugh. “Wel- hic, who's da poor sod?”

The Keeper was about to answer, when the shouting from behind them became angry and far louder than before. Both they, and the guildmaster, turned to see what looked like a fight breaking out between two tables, a blond man punching another to the floor to loud cheers from the rest of the pub.

To the Keeper’s surprise, the guildmaster made no move to break it up, simply watching with mild interest. At least until the blond man drew his wand, and then Gilfred was suddenly beside the man, plucking said wand from his hand almost too quickly to even see.

The Keeper blinked in surprise, had he apparated? They hadn't heard a sound though.

“Now now, dere'll be no magic if yer fightin’ in ‘ere. Ya know da rulez.” Gilfred slurred with a broad grin, swaying tipsily on the spot, the blond man's wand dangling in a loose pinch between his fingers.

“Oh, sod off, ‘e deserves it!” The blond man shouted, flushed red with anger and probably a little too much alcohol, making a grab for his wand as the other patrons jeered at him.

His grin unfaltering, Gilfred laughed, stepping back clumsily out of his range and overbalancing, the back of the guildmaster's knees hit a chair and he tumbled over it, his foot coming up as he fell over and slamming squarely into the blond man's gut.

Wind knocked out of him, the blond man stumbled back into a table before using it to push himself back towards the guildmaster.

Grabbing the chair that Gilfred had fallen over, the man threw it at the collapsed guildmaster, only for Gilfred to catch the chair's legs with his ankles, pushing on the floor with his hands, and flipping with the chair's momentum till it landed upright on its legs. Perching lazily on it with a smirk as the pub patrons cheered, the occasional glint of brass knuckles gleaming on the raised fists of the crowd.

Enraged, the blond grabbed another chair and swung it at him. With a grin, the guildmaster rolled onto his feet and the two wooden chairs were smashed into pieces against each other.

So, that's why the chairs were all newer than the building, the Keeper remarked to themselves absently.

They supposed there was only so many times one could reparo a piece of furniture before it was too worn, and they watched curiously as the guildmaster drunkenly stumbled to his feet. He certainly seemed drunk, yet somehow not a single blow managed to land on him and his flailing limbs would repeatedly hit the blond attacker as he wobbled through the tavern.

With a sleepy yawn, Gilfred stretched, taking the blond man's wand out of his reach and teetering to the side sluggishly. The man lunged for his wand, only to trip over Gilfred's leg, falling onto the bar counter, just a few paces away from the Keeper.

Without missing a beat, the bartender dropped her hand down on the man's neck and he went limp.

“Whew! Tha’ waz fun.” Gilfred chuckled, stumbling over to shove the blond's wand into the man's pocket, and the Keeper watched incredulously as the guildmaster rummaged through the man's coat for a moment, before pulling out a coin pouch and raising it in the air. “A round o’ drinkz on da bloke!”

The pub erupted into cheers and the Keeper winced at the volume, yeah, they much preferred the Phantom's. Though they imagined Sebastian would find this place more exciting.

“Zo.” The guildmaster tossed the pouch at his mother behind the counter and sat down beside the Keeper again. “Whut wure we talkin’ bout?”

“Frederick Taylor, bloke’ll be missin’ soon.” The Keeper answered, eyeing the mug of pale liquid that the elderly bartender had placed in front of them.

“Tis strawberry milk.” She smiled wryly, flicking her wand and sending several mugs of gold liquid flying off the counter to the tables. “I know Alasdair ‘ands those out fer recruits. That blasted snake, ‘iring kids ta fight.”

“Sayz da one what sent me ta ‘im fer trainin’.” Gilfred snorted, snatching one of the mugs out of the air and taking a generous swig.

“I sent ye ta ‘im to getcha sobered up.” The bartender flicked a bottle cork at him, and it hit him square in the forehead, leaving a red mark and almost knocking him off his stool. “Didn't wantcha drivin’ me guild inta the ground.”

As Gilfred scrambled to save his brew from the floor, the Keeper's eyebrows rose, so she used to be the old guildmaster. Perhaps not so surprising, they mused, taking a drink of milk from their mug, old as she was, Gilfred's mother looked like she could crack a skull with a single footstep.

Glaring at the bartender through hazy eyes, the wasted guildmaster grumbled under his breath that the only reason Alasdair had a doorman was because the posh man thought kicking out rowdy people beneath him. Before rather pointedly guzzling the rest of his drink, and tossing the empty mug into the sink behind the counter, where the dishes were washing themselves.

“Weell, kid, dunno whut yer've been ‘ired ta nab ‘im fer, me bruther's gonna whine bout snipin’ ‘is patrons, but dere ain't no problems ‘ere.” Gilfred slurred and slumped on the table again, looking quite ready to go back to sleep.

“Glad ta ‘ear it.” The Keeper gave an amused huff, even they were having a hard time understanding what the man was saying.

At least there wouldn't be any problems with their job, they continued to drink their milk, it wasn't as good as Alasdair’s but hey, it was free. Be a shame to waste a free drink.

“Kid, gimmie yer ‘and.” The bartender raised her hand, and the Keeper raised an eyebrow in response. Well, she was the previous guildmaster and Alasdair, they hoped, would have warned them if they couldn't trust her.

Extending their hand, and cautiously placing it in hers, the Keeper watched as she simply held it, her eyes closed for several long moments, and they felt a tingling sensation creep slowly up along their arm.

Until, finally, she lifted her eyes to meet theirs, and her amber orbs felt like they were seeing into their soul, leaving them ever so slightly unsettled.

“Well, you're somethin’ unique, aren't ya. So young, yet so ancient.” She murmured and the Keeper stiffened. “Be careful, people like ya ‘ave been disappearin’.”

They frowned as she released their hand. “What's that ‘sposed ta mean?”

“Zactly what I said.” The bartender gave them a tight smile. “Places like these draw them odds ‘n ends, misfits ‘n the like. Had our fair share ‘o strange folk with strange powers, lot of ‘em ‘ave gone missin’ ov'r the years.”

“That so?” The Keeper murmured, flexing their hand absently. “Any ideas what mighta ‘appened to ‘em?”

She shook her head. “Not a clue, but most of ‘em ain't the type that'd up ‘n leave with nary a word.”

Well, that wasn't much to go on, and they were fairly cautious already, so the Keeper asked instead. “What'd you do just there?”

“Just gettin’ a feel fer ya.” The bartender gave them a cryptic smile. “If ol’ Alasdair hadn't snatched ye up, I might’ve ‘ad me boy do it.”

Before the Keeper could even formulate a response, there came a loud thud beside them and, looking down, they found said ‘boy’ sprawled out on the floor snoring loudly.

Heaving a sigh and grumbling under her breath, the bartender wiped her hands and set down her towel. “That boy... ‘ang on.”

“Take yer time.” The Keeper chuckled, tossing the collapsed guildmaster an amused glance as his mother walked around the counter to drag his ass onto a bench.

It was plain to see that, despite her complaints and general atmosphere of disapproval, the woman loved the odd young man quite deeply.

Somehow, it reminded them of the way Ominis was with Sebastian. Even though neither boy had particularly good examples to follow, and were very clumsy about it, Ominis and Sebastian still managed to discover love, and stumble through expressing it to each other.

Some things were just natural, if you love someone, you can't bear to make them feel worse when they're already feeling bad, right? You want them to be happy and safe, warm and wearing a smile. It didn't matter what they'd done or your own ego or what you expected of them. You'd never just toss them aside, disown them like Solomon did Sebastian.

That's how the Keeper felt at least, and they knew both boys did too.

Sebastian had seen, even if he hadn't understood, how much it hurt Ominis to join him in the Scriptorium. That it wasn't that Ominis didn't want to help him, but that helping was hurting him. So, Sebastian had tried to leave Ominis out of saving Anne, without making Ominis feel guilty about not helping.

Sure, it was lying by omission, but the Keeper had understood the love in that act, and it had been quite inspirational to them. In his own way, Ominis had shown it too, trying to stop Sebastian in fear that Sebastian, who had already been dealt a dreadful blow by Anne's curse, would only suffer more as he struggled against fate.

Even if Ominis’ words and actions, in the spirit of love, had ended up hurting Sebastian too, he'd been torn between stopping Sebastian for his own good and knowing that Sebastian needed to do this to be happy. Ominis had been easy to sway because he understood that Sebastian would never be able to forgive himself if he stopped, something he loved and hated about his best friend, and a part of him had hoped that Sebastian would succeed.

Considering Ominis’ own mental state, they could respect that internal struggle and knew that that too came from love. The Keeper was still struggling with it themselves. Trying to do the right thing for Sebastian and Ominis, when they didn't have anyone to teach them.

It had been terrifying yesterday, hearing Ominis speak like he wanted to die. They'd seen it many times, the ones who... decided that their lot wasn't worth suffering through. The ones who'd sat down and waited for death.

...I'm tired... we... we were never meant to be born.

They'd spent years wondering why they were still fighting even though they knew that the best they could hope for was a dignified death. That nothing short of a miracle would improve their situation. Well, they'd gotten their miracle, and Sebastian and Ominis had made all those years of fighting worth it.

The thought that they might have unintentionally pushed their precious Ominis to the point of wishing he'd never been born, even though they needed him so much, had been a punch to the gut.

They still felt bad about slapping him, but they'd needed to snap him out of it, perhaps even more for themselves than for him. He and Sebastian, being a part of what those two boys had, being loved, was the Keeper's prize after a lifetime's worth of suffering, and they wouldn't relinquish that. Ever.

As they watched the elderly lady tuck her son in with a blanket, struggling to pry his arms from where they were wrapped around hers like it were his bolster. A clear mix of fondness and exasperation on her features, and a part of them felt some relief to see their own feelings reflected in her eyes and actions.

That maybe, even if they didn't know what they were doing or how things would turn out in the end, there were some things that everyone could get right.

When there was love.

The wind was biting as it grazed the skin under their hood and the Keeper spared Sebastian a fond smile as he grumbled, turning onto his side to catch the little light peering through the clouds on the pages of his book, only to almost fall off the sloped roof that they were precariously perched upon.

“Gah!” Sebastian yelped, catching the book as the Keeper pulled him back to safety, and he grinned sheepishly up at them from their lap. “Thanks.”

“Careful darling.” They chuckled, before returning their magically enhanced gaze to the street below.

The Eagle's Eye Elixir was probably one of the most useful NEWT-level potions they'd learnt so far and they'd put it to good use, watching the Rowdy Rogue for their target from a safe vantage away. It was certainly far preferable to casting the disillusionment charm on themselves and hiding near the establishment while the spell drained their magic for who knows how long.

“You know.” Sebastian mused, watching them from their lap. “Keeping you company while waiting for hours, following a guy around, drinking polyjuice. Not exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help you on your next job.”

“Regretting?” The Keeper asked absently with an amused smile.

“More like impressed that you're not bored out of your mind.” Sebastian commented, following their eyes down to the people hustling back and forth.

“I like people watching.” The Keeper replied, brushing their fingers through his hair idly. “There was little else to do, outside of gang fights, learning to read the Bible, and my... work. You can learn a lot just from watching peopl-”

The Keeper froze when a familiar man entered their view, and thereafter, the pub. Anger throbbed through their veins, that scum, walking about, free of all cares even after what he'd done to Tobbs. He deserved nothing less than a hole in the ground, him and all the others like him.

“There he is.” They hissed.

Sebastian sighed. “Great. Now we have to wait for him to finish his dinner, track him back to his house and then come back again tomorrow to nab him on the way home.”

“Yup.” The Keeper chuckled, patting him on the head. “It's the least we can do...”

A vicious smirk stretched across the Keeper's face.

“...to let him enjoy his last day as a free man.”

The road was dark as Frederick Taylor left Edinburgh, crunching through the snow with a bottle in hand, heading home after a long day’s work at the city's potions’ emporium. His ears still ringing from the scathing rebukes he'd gotten from the surly old owner of the shop.

Damn woman, it wasn't his fault her workshop was so fucking messy, eventually someone was going to mix up the bottle of Rosewoods oil drops and essence of Essenwood. They were the same colour!

It still pissed him off that he was now an employee, when he'd once owned his own potions shop in London. Now, he had to work for someone else, and he cursed the useless elf that'd disappeared from the cave he'd left it in two years ago.

The very reminder was enough for him to take another swig from the bottle he'd taken with him when James kicked him out of the pub. His tongue had gone numb to its flavour since he'd finished his second, but its buzz was probably the only reason he wasn't crying like a baby.

His Vanessa, that beautiful fucking whore. How could she leave him? With nothing but a bloody note! She'd said she loved him, he'd bought her everything she wanted, he'd given her lots of love and sex too, which he was quite good at! His wife had gotten pregnant twice, after all. He'd heard some guys couldn't even do that. Weak plebs.

Vanessa probably would have gotten pregnant after being together so long, if she wanted to, but the bitch took contraceptive potions every time, saying she wanted him to leave his wife first. That cunt had probably been planning to leave the whole time, maybe he should have swapped her potion so she would get pregnant, maybe she would've stayed then.

His wife had. She'd married him after he knocked her up, her prissy parents hadn't wanted her to have a kid out of wedlock and he'd agreed. Why wouldn't he? They were rich. Compared to his adoptive parents, at least.

Frederick slipped on a patch of ice and cursed, pausing to spit at it before continuing on his way.

Then again, he wasn't sure he wanted another kid. He never knew what to do with them, his stupid wife had thrown such a hissy fit when he'd pulled out his belt the first time their baby started screaming. She'd looked so horrified, pretty blue eyes staring at him in shock as she stood between him and the kid.

It'd started then, those beautiful eyes, staring at him like he was some sort of monster. Like she didn't know him. He'd backed off from then on, whenever it came to the kids. What was that look for? That's what you did with noisy brats. Her method took forever for the kid to shut up, but he'd decided to be gracious and let her get her way, maybe then she'd stop looking at him like that.

Those eyes haunted him, the change that had come over them, the way she looked at him, like there was something wrong with him. It drove him mad, even just remembering it.

He raised the bottle to his lips again, and it only got worse over the years. It wasn't his fault. He never wanted to hit her, it just- Every time he got some drinks with his friends, she would look at him with those eyes, like those fucking muggles did, like he was a beggar on the streets.

It wasn't his fault she was always so annoying while he was just trying to enjoy the buzz. Babbling incessantly about how he shouldn't drink, and how she needed the money for her parents’ medical bills, ridiculous considering how rich they were. The wizarding healers weren't like muggle doctors, they could do so much insane stuff, surely those bills couldn't be that much of a problem. Did she think he was stupid? She was probably hiding all that money just so he'd drink less.

Was it too much to ask? To let him have even this one thing to look forward to. If she just minded her own business and stopped trying to control him, everything would be fine.

She was always on his case about spending more time with the brats too, and it wasn't as if he didn't want to, it wasn't his fault that the kids liked her more. They were always so happy with her, even if also annoyingly loud, but with him, they were quiet and stiff. He was trying, alright!? He wanted the kids to like him too, goddammit, but all they wanted was their ma.

The older one had started giving him the same look she did, since he began Hogwarts. Frederick was willing to bet the last of his coin that his petty, childish, and selfish wife was poisoning the boy against him. Turning his own sons against him, what a vindictive bitch.

God, it pissed him off so bad, why had she changed? What happened to the sweet girl he'd met in Hogwarts? He'd thought her so beautiful when he'd first met her, gentle and ladylike, the prettiest Hufflepuff in their year. He'd been the envy of the other Gryffindor boys when she agreed to go out with him in fifth year and he'd been grateful to his adoptive parents. They'd given him the money to impress her and supported his pursuit of her.

Now he wished they hadn't. It was just his luck, to be deceived by his first girl, ensnared by the falsehood that she would always be the loving and gentle person she'd pretended to be, only to change after their marriage.

He supposed he had been somewhat lucky, once. His parents had died two years before he'd gotten his letter, and going to the magical school had gotten him adopted in his first year, by a couple in Hogsmeade, so he hadn't had to go back to the filthy orphanage over the summers.

The couple had mostly used him as a second house elf, but it was so much better than the workhouse, that he'd taken it without complaint. Their elf though, he'd hated it so much. It was small, ugly, stupid, and worst of all, better at magic than Frederick. Even though he was human, he was a wizard! He wasn't a weird little freak like the muggle orphanage hands called him, compared to that wrinkly creature with no pride.

At least he'd been good at potions, and they'd bought a shop with his wife's money, the ungrateful bitch never appreciated that it was Frederick's talent that made the shop successful. That if it weren't for him, her parents’ money would be sitting uselessly in the bank, like the money he knew she was hiding from him now.

All she did was smile and laugh and gossip with the customers about pointless things like how their families were doing. Who fucking cares? They were just here to buy his potions, they probably found his brainless wife annoying too and were too polite to tell her off. He'd told her to cut it out and stop wasting time when she could be working, but she never listened.

Ironic since the bitch was always whining that he never listened to her, never spent time with her. Well, she never wanted to have sex either, she was always “too tired”. As if she had anything difficult to do, their elf handled the chores and heavy lifting, so all she had to do was take care of their brats and manage their potions, keep things organised and other brain work shit. Far less work than a muggle bitch who had to do all of that and actually tiring chores by hand. The cunt was so entitled and lazy.

She just didn't care about his needs, so it wasn't his fault for scratching that itch elsewhere. Why should he be honest? She was keeping secrets too. Keeping the fortune she'd inherited from her rich parents hidden away somewhere, just so she could continue pestering him to quit drinking with the excuse of running out of money.

Vanessa had reminded him of her, of how she'd looked, back during their Hogwarts days. Pretty blue eyes, soft face, not like all the lines that had appeared on his wife's brow over the years, the skin under Vanessa's eyes was light, not like the ugly dark stains that were under his wife's or the red puffiness that came after he’d had some drinks. Even Jesus and fucking Saint Aidan would lose his temper with that woman.

Served his shit wife right anyway, the bitch was always so whiny whenever they did have sex, never just lying down with him and letting him enjoy the afterglow afterwards. Always running off quickly to do something with the children or the shop, she always had to ruin things every time he made an effort to rekindle their romance from back in Hogwarts.

Things only got worse after the damn elf disappeared, she still insisted that she didn't have any money left from her parents. Like he would buy such an obvious lie, everybody lies, he already knew that. After all, he was doing it too, hiding Vanessa from her, but he never thought his wife would hate him so much that she'd continue hiding her money till they lost the shop.

Crying crocodile tears while spitefully forcing him into the humiliating corner of having to work as an employee. His luck was terrible too, all his bosses were shit fucks that fired him after mere weeks, he bet his whore of a wife was fucking her boss, that's why she got a well-paying job so quickly.

Yet she still kept nagging him to get a job, whining all the time that they needed to make more money, that their debt was incurring interest faster than she could keep up with, while paying for everything. As if it was his fault nobody appreciated his talents. As if she couldn't just stop hiding her money and fucking pay it off.

He wasn't stupid, her job's pay was good, but not good enough to keep up. She was just taking her hidden money out slowly instead of using it to fix their problems. Weren't those problems bad enough for her to drop her petty grudge against him and do the right thing, even if Frederick would benefit from that money too? Even he felt bad when their sons had to drop out of Hogwarts.

Maybe if he left, she'd finally be willing to take the money out and at least use it for the kids. He'd been fighting with her one morning, and she'd had the audacity to suggest selling his real muggle birth parents’ gold wedding rings and his mother’s pearl necklace, all he’d had left of them when they died. He'd buried those treasures when they died and only went back for them after he'd graduated, and his wife was talking about selling them!?

Their oldest had slammed his hands on the table, shouting, “Shut up, da! Everything would be better if you just fucked off!”

Frederick had been so shocked, his children had never taken that tone or language with him before. He'd been furious at his wife, what was the woman teaching their children!?

He'd gone for his wand, intending to cast a Silencing Charm on the impudent brat.

Only for her to fucking grab the two kids and run from the house, as though he were a monster chasing them. Embarrassing him, when his shouting and their fleeing made the neighbours, and everyone on the street, look at him like a madman. Cheeks flushed with humiliation, he'd stormed back into the house and began packing his things.

Why the hell not. He'd leave, and he'd take whatever he could find. His bitch wife could keep the children that she'd poisoned against him, he didn't need them, he didn't need any of them. He still had his mother’s necklace and his father’s ring, and a handful of galleons. He would start over with Vanessa, maybe then he'd have children who loved him.

Frederick tilted the bottle further back and groaned in disappointment when he had to accept that it was empty. Furious that it hadn't been enough to get his brain to stop working, he threw the bottle into the treeline, wobbling on the spot as it shattered against a trunk.

He choked out a sob and slumped against a dying tree on the other side of the road. Its barren branches loomed over his head, dry and empty, save the snow gathering along the length of its bough, weighing it down to graze the tips of his hair with bony cold fingers.

He never wanted any of this. He just wanted a beautiful loving wife, and children who would smile at him, look at him like he was the world to them. Instead, he'd gotten an ungrateful bitch, children who loved her more than him, and a lying cunt who left him with no more than a note of farewell.

What had he left now? The pearl necklace around his neck, a gold ring, five galleons and a small, rented room in Musselburgh. No parents, no family, no friends. All alone in the world. Unbidden, his sons’ faces came to mind.

He could still remember his boys when they were still babies. They'd become annoying as they grew older, but he still remembered the moment he'd held his firstborn, little soft thing with big blue eyes. None of the anger that'd begun showing up in those eyes. The younger one still hadn't had that happen... yet.

So, it was good. It was good to have left. Before that happened. His wife had a job, she was good with numbers and words, she could keep things tidy, and she was still kind of pretty. She'd be fine. They'd be fine without him.

...

Fuck, he missed them.

It was so fucking weird, but those boys, his bitch wife. Now that he was crying on the side of an empty dirt road surrounded by dying trees and freezing his balls off, he kinda wished he was back home. How were the kids? His wife? Were they really better off since he'd left six months ago?

Frederick shook his head, of course they were.

Of course they were. He closed his eyes. His kids were cuddled with his bitch wife in front of the fireplace, celebrating Christmas, all warm an-

“...lp!”

Frederick blinked, turning his head towards the faint sound, had he imagined it? Struggling to focus through the haze in his mind, he looked up, the road was bathed in pitch black, and the light of the night sky had been covered by thick clouds.

The sound of a twig snapping just off to his left made him jump and his eyes peered through the treeline, the cold air quickly sobering him as he raised his wand. “Lumos!”

A circle of light bloomed around him, straining to push back against the darkness, but he could see no further than a few steps.

“Is someone there?” Frederick called out, straining his ears to catch the slightest sound.

But nothing came.

The silence of the empty winter road, the graveyard of dead trees devoid of life or motion, suddenly felt too quiet. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and the inside of his skull ringing between his hollow ears.

The darkness of the path lay like a gaping void at his feet, the eerie stillness burning the last of the alcohol's buzz from his mind.

“Help! Help me!”

Frederick stiffened when he recognised that voice. No, it couldn't be. The boy was supposed to be at home, with his wife-

A deep growl and a shriek of terror cut through the air, the clouds parted, and the moon's light pierced the darkness. Through the scattering of trees, Frederick was struck with horror when he spotted a small dark figure running through the trees, pursued by a large wolf.

“Help! Dad!” The boy's panicked voice stabbed the man, sharp painful spikes of dread embedding themselves in his chest.

“Andrew!” Frederick shouted. Clenching his teeth, he took off after the figures, heart pounding as he ran, stumbling over tree roots and bushes.

Not his boy, not the one that still hadn't learned to hate him yet. Andrew was supposed to be at home with his fucking wife, what the fuck was wrong with the useless fucking bitch!? Couldn't even get this right!? Couldn't even keep their kids safe!?

Just ahead of him, the wolf had caught up to his son and was crouched over the fallen boy.

Fear and anger boiling in his veins, Frederick swung his wand at the wolf, shouting. “Diffindo!”

The wolf leapt out of the way and his spell slammed into a tree, cutting deep into its bark, as the wolf turned its golden gaze on him.

Fear chilled him to the bone, as it bared its teeth at Frederick, sharp fangs gleaming in the light of his wand, and in that moment, he saw in its eyes, his own death staring him in the face.

Behind the wolf, was his son, the boy lying on the floor, his boy, his child. The desire to save his son clenched tight within his heart, but the fear seeping through his pores was turning his flesh numb with its chill.

He had to save Andrew...

The wolf's jaw spread wide.

He had to save...

The great beast raised its haunches.

He had to...

It sprang forward at him.

...had to...

Run. Turning on the spot and diving out of the wolf's path, Frederick ran back the way he'd come. His heart screamed at him in pain, but his body was numb with fear.

He could always have another kid, everything would be over if he died. This wasn't his fault. It was hers. Andrew shouldn't even be here, all alone. She'd abandoned him first. It wasn't his fault. He didn't deserve to die for her mistake.

He glanced behind him as he ran, but to his surprise, instead of a wolf, he caught a glimpse of what looked like a person, as a red hued spell slammed into him, throwing him through the air.

As his vision darkened, the last terrifying thing that he saw...

Was a shadowy figure standing over him with blood red eyes.

Sebastian brushed the snow from his pant legs with tiny hands as he stood, cheeks flushed pink and heart still racing. Fuuuuuck, having the Keeper looming over him, pinning him to the floor in their Animagus form, their large heavy paws dipping into the snow, heat radiating from their fur and sharp fangs showing.

He wondered if it was because of his own Animagus form's instinct, Sebastian felt like if he were as a dog, he'd have rolled onto his back and bared his neck. Was it just a result of the adrenaline? It'd been a long time since he'd been a boy around the age of the kid he'd polyjuiced into, and he couldn't quite remember how easy it had been to end up having a... well, tent in the pant.

He watched as the Keeper flicked their wand and conjured ropes to bind the unconscious man lying in the snow, taking his wand and searching him for any portkeys or valuables and probably his keys. What a coward, Sebastian sneered at the bound man.

Hiccupping, Sebastian drew his wand and cast a resizing charm on his clothes, loosening them in advance as he felt the polyjuice begin to wear off. At least the man had cared enough about his kid to be lured off the road, the thought was quickly ejected from his brain however, and Sebastian doubled over, pain rippling across his body as his skin stretched, bones elongating and thickening.

Until he was himself again, kneeling on the ground, his hands braced against the cold snow, heaving for breath as the sound of footsteps approached.

“Alright there, love?” The Keeper asked.

“Ugh, that was worse than I expected.” Sebastian groaned.

“Probably hurt more because of the age difference. Growing pains.” The Keeper grinned and Sebastian chuckled weakly.

A swirl of golden light later, he felt warm fur against his chest as the Keeper slipped under his arms, supporting his weight and allowing him to drape over their large wolf form. Offering themselves as support while he recovered, so that his hands needn't rest on the cold snow, and Sebastian's cheeks warmed yet again when he felt their powerful muscles flexing under the fluffy fur.

Reminded of how it'd felt to have them crouched over him mere moments ago.

When he felt well enough, Sebastian gave the Keeper's head a grateful pat, and slowly peeled himself from their back to stand. As he did so, the Keeper quickly transformed back into human form to support him when he wobbled on the spot, slipping their arms around his waist.

As he leaned against them, he felt their warm breath by his ear, and they murmured. “You smell much better as yourself.”

Going even redder, Sebastian blanched. “You were sniffing me?”

He could hear the broad grin in their voice as they chuckled and purred. “Hard not to when you smell so aroused.”

Sebastian wasn't sure how he felt about them knowing that he'd been turned on by the sheer danger wafting off them a few minutes ago. Embarrassed? More aroused?

Scrambling for a response, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Oh yeah? And how's that smell?”

The Keeper pressed their nose to his nape and murmured. “Delicious.”

Sebastian gave a nervous laugh. “Planning on eating me?”

That probably shouldn't sound as good to him as it did.

“Maybe when we’re home and cleaned up. Job's not done yet.” The Keeper chuckled and released him, waving their wand. “Accio.”

The spell dragged Frederick's unconscious body across the ground and the Keeper plucked a strand of hair from his head. Dropping it into a vial of muddy brown polyjuice potion, it quickly turned into a nauseating lumpy sludge of yellow and green, and the Keeper grimaced at it.

“Bring him back to Dìon for me while I ransack his house.” Despite the wording, the Keeper's tone came out more like a question than an instruction.

“Sure.” Sebastian nodded, taking his broom from his pocket and enlarging it, before tying the man to the end and casting a levitation charm at him. “I'll see you back home.”

Mounting his broom with some discomfort, look it’s hard to have wood between the legs when you have wood between the legs, Sebastian flashed them a grin, calling back as he took off. “Then we can let him cook while you have me for dessert.”

The Keeper's laughter followed him out of the treeline and anticipation tightened Sebastian’s grip on the broom handle. Maybe if they were lucky, Ominis might be in the mood to provide some... accompanying refreshments too.

Notes:

Just a few trivial notes to get out of the way;

I made a small change to Part 2 chapter 19, because I didn't realise Edinburgh was actually a big city back when I first wrote that bit, (look, I ain't from around there and I picked Edinburgh cos the name sounded cool) so I made it a bit more specific, the Obliviated woman was dropped off by a small town “Musselburgh, just east of Edinburgh” and James owns “a bar in the city”.

And, in Harry Potter lore, the more powerful someone is, the more quiet they are when apparating, just sayin' x3

After added research, I've also changed the name of the Keeper's orphanage to Nazareth Houses in Part 1 chapter 6.

Has anyone even recognised the reference to Persona 5 with the guild being called the Phantoms and the Keeper wearing a half-face mask for their work? There's a TMNT Fast Forward reference and a subtle Undertale reference in there too hehe

Also, I love the idea of Sebastian accidentally making 11 year old Ominis fall in love with him by just being honest and not thinking before he speaks. I know people characterise him as flirty but I think in game, that was really just him sucking up to MC and prodding for information because he needed and admired them, I think he's the type that stumbles into his actual flirting without thinking much.

And that's the trivial notes done, please pay attention from this point on!

“When your friends are roasting on the spit, you're the one who feels the fire.” That's a quote from the first How To Train Your Dragons TV series (God, I love Dreamworks Dragons and Race to the Edge so much-)

In my humble opinion, the one commonality between every single type of love, platonic, romantic, familial, friendship and camaraderie and everything in-between, is “I don't want this person to suffer.” Now, the one stumbling block that a lot of people trip over is that the “suffer” should not be your own definition of “suffering”, it should be their definition of “suffering”.

The problems arise when you try to protect someone from what you personally think is the “worst suffering”, and put them through their “worst suffering” in the process. That's what Ominis and, to a more extreme extent, Solomon did with Sebastian, and we all know how that turned out.

So, key takeaway is, find out what your loved ones’ “worst suffering” is, and try to remember to protect them from their “worst suffering” and not your own when you naturally, as a result of love, try to protect them from suffering.

Next, I want to contrast the Keeper’s addiction vs Frederick's here. The key difference between them is that the Keeper had acknowledged the terrifying reality that they were addicted, accepted the fact that they couldn't handle it alone, and took responsibility for their actions as a result of their addiction. The appropriate response here is to support them, assure them that while they do bear that responsibility, their actions were understandable.

Frederick however, neither acknowledges his addiction, nor does he accept assistance with it and flees from responsibility. Blaming everyone around him and pushing them away. Sure, we are a product of our environment, but that doesn't mean you don't need to put in effort to change as well when presented with evidence that your interpretation of the world is wrong.

Unlike Sebastian, who does accept that he had fucked up (even if he had considerable personal justification) at the end of his questline. Takes two hands to clap and all that.

Now, all that being said, we should never shame addiction, even when it's a Frederick case, that's not what I'm trying to do here.

Addiction forms as a coping mechanism and everybody on planet Earth has suffered and to each and every one, your own suffering is the worst suffering on Earth. The hardest to deal with. We are all vulnerable to getting addicted to a specific thing that allows us to cope. Everyone is likely already addicted to something, it's just a question of how harmful it is and how well it's managed.

It's a different weak point for each person, the common ones are drugs, gambling, alcohol, porn, scrolling social media, but there are less obviously bad addictions too. People can be addicted to the dopamine hit they get when they make someone else happy, or the adrenaline rush that comes from hurting other people’s feelings or comparing themselves to others and stroking their own ego with how much “better” they are, whether that be in material ways or moral.

People that are addicted to things with negative effects on both themselves and others, need support to wean off them and adopt healthy coping mechanisms to manage said addictions.

However, that necessitates that the addicted person be aware that an uncontrolled addiction is inherently negative. Even if, “feeling good by making other people happy” seems like a good thing, if uncontrolled, a person might end up neglecting their own needs, chasing that dopamine hit, making them vulnerable to abuse. (The healthy solution for that one is simple, get a good partner and tell them you have a praise kink.)

Moderation is the key to success.

I know, corny, I'm sorry- but it's true, many people delude themselves into thinking that their addictions are not addictions, they're just “things I like doing” but, like someone I spent a week arguing with on YouTube's comments, a girl (according to her, which is odd since she also says she's graduated from University, most would use the word ‘woman’ by that age but okay).

She said and I quote, “Sebastian is a bad manipulative person, because if a person does a bad thing it means they were a bad person from the start and they're beyond saving and no amount of remorse can make up for it”, along with, “I got bullied but I never fought back or took drugs or stuff, so I'm stronger than people like Sebastian who caved under abuse from his uncle”.

That right there, is an addiction to the dopamine hit that comes when comparing yourself to someone else and going “wow, look how much better I am than that person”.

This same person also said that “even if you are poor, there are legal ways of making money, so if you break the law, even to save a family member, you are a bad person”. In other words, poor people are poor because they don't want to work, and by extension, homeless people should just buy a home. She also said that people with family members with cancer should just let them die because fighting cancer looks painful to her. Guess my aunt should have died rather than successfully fight off cancer and live another 20 years and counting. /s

I was genuinely at a loss for words with this person. She said she graduated from the free University, paid for by her government (wow, I wanna live there) where she studied “history” ...just history apparently. All the history, I guess. Of what? Of everything. But, somehow took a week to realise that laws are different in different countries and that having a country with laws that don't protect the people, would affect a person's morality and motivation to obey the law.

...okay, great, you made the first step, now please go to the next logical conclusion. Have you considered how shit the Ministry of Magic is? What makes you compare Sebastian to people in a first world country in 2024? Slavery and racism are LEGAL and rampant in Wizarding Britain, there’s no Childcare Protection Service, no lawyers, and there's a literal war with goblins going on. Even Hogwarts’ Headmaster Black is openly corrupt and engages in open favouritism and house elf abuse, this ain't a Dumbledore-run school at the moment! Such a trust-less society and environment is gonna affect Sebastian's morals too, that doesn’t make him evil!

She even cited Oliver Twist to compare Sebastian against like, “See, Oliver remained a good person despite everything he went through, so Sebastian caving to circumstances and using the unforgivables means he was always evil.” Completely missing the fact that Dickens wrote Oliver Twist to increase understanding of unfortunate people and challenge the idea that impoverished and desperate people are inherently morally evil, but instead teach that they're shaped by their environments. Even Oliver himself never judges his fellow impoverished negatively for being cruel to him.

Which is weird because this person was also defending how “good” of a person Ominis was, when he objectively failed her bar. I mean, he caved to his parents’ abuse and cast the Cruciatus curse on defenceless muggles. How is that different? Even Ominis himself is aware of this! The whole point of that was to show that this is a harmful mentality to have, even for the person having it, look at how much Ominis hates himself for failing that absurd expectation of perfection from humans.

(Plus, Sebastian cast all the unforgivables in defence so, with that plus being a minor, any juvenile court would show him leniency. Oh, did I mention that this person says 15-year-olds are not children? I was deeply concerned.)

I got several strokes arguing with this person that good people can make mistakes and do things they regret. Wow, so shocking, I know. And that “understandable” and “acceptable” are not the same thing. We can understand and empathise with the reasons a person does something, without condoning it.

The Just World Fallacy is a terrible and categorically delusional place to live in. I invite you to look up the term, it's an absurdly common cognitive bias in many people, my abusive father included. Not gonna lie, Fredrick takes a fair amount of inspiration from him.

These are the people that I write to convince, but man, if they can read friggin’ Oliver Twist and come away thinking that the book's message is to shame other unfortunate people for not being as good as Oliver, it makes me really scared to write. And that's why my notes are always so long-

Imagine, writing books where you try to teach people to be more understanding of why people shouldn't be blamed, hated, and punished for being desperate enough to resort to criminality. Only for someone to use your writing to shame other unfortunate people for not being as perfect as Oliver. Hurk- Pain- Dickens must be rolling in his grave.

She even called my "ideas" childish, like, I'm childish when you are literally not understanding basic human rights laws. Really?

Right, anyway, the point of this whole segue, is that people with Just World Fallacy (like that girl I argued with) actively creates people like Frederick. He's an incredibly unreliable narrator, except for one point. Frederick does, in fact, legitimately not know what he did wrong when he tried to belt whip a baby for crying.

If his wife had explained why that was an inappropriate response to him patiently, (yes, he would have resisted, scoffed at it too, but don't just quit gurl, change isn't easy) if she had taken the effort to teach him the correct way to handle a baby rather than level at him empty judgement, if she hadn't judged him as an evil man immediately upon being shocked by his “surprising vile action”, if she'd asked him why he thought that whipping a baby was correct. Encouraged him to open up about his childhood trauma from being an orphan in the 1890s.

Maybe he would've gotten better, maybe he could have learned. The reality is that judging other people as evil and beyond saving, and not trying to correct it, helps nobody. If you think something is wrong with the way he thinks or behaves, try to understand why he is the way he is and work on it with him. If you can't do anything about it or figure it out, or he resists very strongly, get help from others.

(There's also an important balance to strike with teaching or giving advice. See, you want to say, “you should do this”, but if you don't also say “it's okay to fail”, then you are actively discouraging a person from trying.

But if you say, “it's okay to fail”, you better fucking mean it. If the person trying fails after you said it's okay to fail and you immediately scold and shame them for failing, now they are probably never going to try again. Failing already feels bad, you don't need to make it worse.

Now, that's not to say the person shouldn't have to accept the consequences of the failure. They should, that's how you learn, but don't ADD shaming the person for it to the mix. Failure doesn't say anything inherent about a person. It doesn't make them stupid or evil, and it doesn't mean they weren't trying.

You can't read their mind, how do you know they “weren't trying”? Not all effort is visible, and some people have reasons to struggle more at things you think aren't that hard. People always need a reason to continue trying, something to strive for, otherwise they won't try.

This is why not turning Sebastian in is the correct choice, we see that after hitting the bad results of his actions, unlike Frederick, Sebastian was not arrogant and understood that forgiveness and mercy was something he could only beg for. He didn't blame Solomon (even though he'd have some grounds there if he did), he didn't blame Anne, or MC and Ominis for not stopping him. He expressed regret for his actions and his hope for grace.

He was willing to accept that he's made wrong decisions, acknowledging that, “you all believed in me, and I let you all down.” By showing him mercy, he takes responsibility for his actions and resolves to earn the second chance he was granted, saying “I know I can't change what I've done, but I can try every day to make up for it.”

It helps that Sebastian is still a child too, at 15 years of age, boys are still developing mentally and physically, and he has much room to grow. All this is 200% harder with an adult, especially one over 26, when the mind is already mostly made up. But, harder doesn’t mean impossible, my mom managed at 50+!)

Now, not everyone is in the position to help other people, of course. Not everyone has access to guidance and education (like the Keeper, and possibly Fredrick's wife) and your own safety comes first, you can't help others if you’re dead. His wife’s fear of Fredrick was legitimate and well founded, her belief that he was going to hurt her kids when he went for his wand was very reasonable and she was right to take her kids and flee the house, even if he hadn't intended to do harm. God, wands are terrible World Building, a gun, a pen, a knife, and a dishwasher all in one-

Basically, don't burn yourself to keep others warm, safety first. But also, don't write people off because it's easier and makes you feel good, makes you feel better than others. Gotta walk that thin boundary carefully.

I said, in parting to the girl on YouTube, and I will say it here.

I believe in rehabilitation. I believe in redemption and remorse. There is no point too far to turn back, no apology I will not accept. Life is a series of compromises with each other, with reality and with ourselves. The bar and the lines are different for everyone, sometimes we clash, and it’s nobody’s fault.

Is it scarier to live this way? Yes. One can never know if the second chance you give will be for nought and your effort will be wasted, and it's important to give second chances in a way that doesn't endanger yourself, and to use empiricism and pattern recognition to evaluate when to give out your second chances. Don't just dole it out blindly either, that's bad too, for both you and the recipient. Seek advice and guidance from professionals and those wiser when uncertain.

But whenever I can, I will always be willing to give forgiveness and second chances.

Because I know how important forgiveness is when you need it.

Also, Frederick's anger towards Vanessa isn't unfounded, in my opinion. Not because of being with a married man, (though come on, don't make it easy for them to cheat), Frederick is the one who made a vow to his wife, it's mostly on him for cheating. But because she used him for money and then discarded him. Sure, Frederick is awful but that doesn't make it okay to scam him. If you're gonna encourage him to leave his wife for you, you've made your bed, at least lie in it.

In the words of Dan Olson in his incredible video, This Is Financial Advice:

“It can be difficult to have empathy for apes (people like Frederick) because, frankly, a lot of them suck... It's tempting to look at them and think, ‘you know what, they brought this on themselves.’ But no-one deserves to be exploited... No-one deserves to have their ego and security ground down to the point that there’s no escape, no reason to step back and admit defeat, no reason to reflect.”

I think the reason I hate how things go if we turn Sebastian in, is because that's exactly what we do to him by choosing to send him to Azkaban. We give him no reason to step back, no reason to admit defeat and reflect. So he just gets angrier, at both goblins and dark wizards. His anger... no. We would have turned Sebastian into Frederick.

Everyone can be crushed, everyone has a breaking point, even someone as earnest, hardworking, determined, and committed to learning, as Sebastian. And I never want to be responsible for breaking someone else.

And, yes, these notes are extra-long because that argument on YouTube made me paranoid and anxious that people will misinterpret my work. My cope method is clearly over-explaining.

And this lesson continues in the next chapter, so... brace for more long notes, though I don’t think they’ll be quite as long x'D

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #gender neutral mc #mc x sebastian sallow #mc x ominis gaunt #sebastian x ominis #sebastian x ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #fanfic #jazlr welcome to your life #jazlr #lgbtqia #nonbinary

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